"Could you please repeat that, Mrs. Figg?"
Harry twisted his fingers under the table unconsciously. His tea was forgotten as he tried to meet his old employer's eyes. Was it said in jest? Where was the compassion? Did he do something wrong? But since he had met her for the first time when he was only five, he could never tell where her eyes were located in her literal cabbage head.
"I'm very sorry, dear. An inspector already flagged the café. I know it's hard but as much as I would like to keep you working here with my cats, I can't risk violating the age restriction for employed minors again and be forced to close up the shop! I hope you understand, dear." She's one of the very few adults kind enough towards him but the pat on his shoulder did not reassure him as it did before.
"But I'm already sixteen."
"Oh, dear. Haven't you heard the news? A new law has been passed a few days ago." At the boy's confused gaze, Mrs. Figg realized her mistake.
"Oh, right. It's not right that the Dursleys wouldn't even provide you with any tech. Not right at all! How will you learn anything about the world if you're not connected?" She shook her leafy cabbage head and stood up to get her tablet from the charging port on the counter. Mr. Tibbles, the café's star, jumped on the vacated chair and hissed at Harry before grooming himself that made the room smell like lemons.
Harry looked down at his cup with dozens of yellow smiley prints that he always used. The only one from the older tea sets that survived when the cupboard crashed from a villain attack last month. He did have an outdated smartphone last year but it was 'accidentally' smashed beyond repair by his whale cousin. Getting a replacement wasn't his priority at the moment. Financial aid for people like him will stop once he reaches the age of seventeen. Without the monthly stipend from the government, the Dursleys will no doubt kick him out of the house. His meager savings were enough for school projects and everyday meals but definitely not enough for a bed space.
"Here we are, dear." The old lady sat on the other available chair next to Harry and placed her faulty tablet beside the plate of biscuits, instead of shooing Mr. Tibbles away. A couple of taps and swipes to close the hundreds of open applications later, the tablet finally stopped freezing up.
The hologram opened up with the Daily Prophet's logo then transitioned immediately to the latest news article written by Rita Skeeter, complete with a large high quality looped moving photo of the Prime Minister waving and smiling at the camera.
LEGAL MINIMUM WORKING AGE FOR UNDERAGE QUIRKLESS CITIZENS HAD BEEN PUSHED TO NINETEEN YEARS OLD
The recent unsolved murders of the quirkless children in Britain, had compelled the ministry to take action to protect our helpless citizens. Prime Minister Cornelius Fudge had been disappointed with the lack of progress from the pro hero side, and was rightfully infuriated by the endless excuses given by the former Head of Professional Hero Association and the current Headmaster of Hogwarts University, Albus Dumbledore, at a press conference a week ago. Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge had proposed that the-
"Mr. Tibbles! Oh, you naughty naughty boy." Mrs. Figg cried and her cat meowed back. The hologram was deactivated by his paws. Mr. Tibbles must be hungry again because the lemon scent had switched to baked apples. The old lady tried to carry him off the table but the cat would just wriggle out of her arms.
"Don't worry, Harry. I'll bring it right back up-"
"It's alright, Mrs. Figg. I've read enough." The boy stood up to leave. His heart was racing. His fingers were tingling. Reading an article won't change a thing and he can't do anything about it.
"I've already transferred your last paycheck to your account." The old lady gave up wrestling the cat and wrapped her arms around Harry instead. "You're always welcome here, dear. Don't you forget that."
Harry's lips twitched and forced his face to give the old lady a smile when she let him go. The boy wasn't successful judging from Mrs. Figg's expression. All that Harry knew was that the room was too stuffy and he was getting dizzy. He wanted to get out fast.
The café door banged open and Harry ran. Out of Privet Drive. Out of Little Whinging. Out of Surrey. He was afraid of what will happen if he ever stopped running.