Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Hello everyone, and thank you so much for the wonderful reviews. I really do appreciate them so much. It's really awesome to know what you think.

Yes, I agree that there are many problems with the wizarding world. I see things now that I never saw as a kid. I hope that this story will be different from any other story with this theme. Boy, do I have a lot of plans for it.

I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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Harry usually loved the summer; it was his favorite time of year. He didn't hate school whatsoever, but there was just something about the air during the summer, and the way he could relax the days away and spend time with Dudley and his friends. They would often frequent each other's houses, or go to the park. If they were lucky, they would get to go out to a restaurant to eat, or get some ice cream from the local store. Both Harry and Dudley were huge fans of the chocolate ice cream they could get there.

But now, it seemed as though all the enjoyment had been sapped out of him. He usually liked being proven right, but not this time. Aunt Petunia had warned him, and he had taken her warnings to heart. And indeed, what he had dreaded had come to pass. The wizarding world had reared its ugly head in the form of that grandfatherly old man with the snowy white beard and twinkling eyes. But Harry knew he was nothing but a manipulative old fool. The way he'd tried to coax Harry, to deceive him, to make him feel as though he'd be missing something great if he didn't enter that hypocritical world, made him sick to his stomach.

That old man had a lot of nerve, barging into the house when specifically asked not to, and then transfiguring Dudley's chair to show his oh-so-wonderful magical prowess. What right did he have to come and poke his nose into their lives? Were all wizards that inconsiderate? Harry and Dudley had been taught at an early age not to touch other people's things without permission. Did wizards never learn that lesson?

And then, Dumbledore had the unmitigated gall to use Harry's parents' sacrifice against him. It made him want to scream and yell and throw things. It was as though he looked straight into Harry's soul and saw his insecurities laid bare. It took all the self-control he had not to do something rash to that nosy, pathetic old man.

But the thing that honestly scared him, which kept him wide awake for the rest of the night after Dumbledore had left, was what might happen with his accidental magic. He'd feared the consequences of this before, but now Dumbledore's words sent chills down Harry's spine. What if he really hurt someone with it? The incident with Harry's classmate, Rick, who had bullied Dudley, had been laughed off, and earlier incidents had been chalked up to imagination. But if it got worse, people wouldn't be able to brush it off anymore. How was he going to control this? Even the thought of learning just a tidbit of magic made his heart race with revulsion. Under no circumstances was he going to get sucked into the wizarding world.

The day after Dumbledore's visit, Harry spoke with Aunt Petunia. They sat in the kitchen, both looking exhausted. Dudley and Vernon were still in bed, and Harry was glad he was alone with Petunia for this conversation. "What am I going to do?" he had asked her, his voice full of fear.

Aunt Petunia had suggested doing meditation exercises every day to try to keep himself calm. If he didn't lose his temper, hopefully his magic wouldn't manifest. Harry wrinkled his nose; he didn't like the thought of sitting quietly in his room and taking deep breaths. He'd always thought of that as something older teenagers and adults did, not ten-year-olds. "That's not always true," Aunt Petunia had said, "and as much as you don't like it, it might be what you have to do in order for the magic to stay inside you."

Harry, knowing she was probably right, did not argue further. If it was a choice between meditating or accidentally doing something irreversible with his magic, he'd pick the former. He would make time for it every day, once when he woke up in the morning and once when he went to bed at night. He'd try it for ten minutes apiece, and he desperately hoped it would help.

His first go at it was Sunday night, and he found it very difficult to empty his mind. But he vowed to keep trying; he wanted to keep living as he had done since he came to the Dursleys' residence. No one from the magical world was going to get him to change his mind. Dumbledore could send whoever he wanted, but it wouldn't work. Harry refused to be a "symbol to the people". Those fools could solve their own problems. Harry was not about to be their scapegoat, their punching bag.

On Monday, he and Dudley spent an enjoyable day with their friends. Even though it was summer, both boys had woken up early - it seemed Dudley only liked to sleep in on weekends, and Harry had always woken up early as far back as he could remember. So they headed to Cliff's early, and their other friends met them there. They hung around the park in the morning, and went back to Cliff's for the afternoon. In the evening, they converged on Matthew's and swam in his pool. Harry was quite a good swimmer, but most of the time he just enjoyed playing around in the water, joking around with his friends.

At about eight in the evening, Harry and Dudley started their walk home. Harry tried to fight the constant dread that had settled within him ever since his Hogwarts acceptance letter had arrived. He didn't know what was going to happen next, but he had a very bad feeling the wizarding world had not given up on him.

"Great day, wasn't it?" asked Dudley with a goofy smile. "It's great to be out of school, yeah?"

Dudley found school extremely boring, and never got as much out of it as Harry did. "Yeah," Harry answered honestly. He really did have fun today, and even though he did like school, taking a break was always nice. But now that the day was almost over, his worries came back to him. While with his friends, he felt like an everyday, normal boy.

Harry didn't say any more after that, and as they continued to walk, Dudley looked at his cousin with concern. "You okay?" he asked. He had been angry on his cousin's behalf, too, after the confrontation with Dumbledore.

"I'm fine," said Harry, and Dudley gave him a doubtful look. He didn't push the matter, however, to which Harry was grateful.

As they passed the houses on Wysteria Walk on their way home, they saw someone they knew well. Mrs. Figg, a rather strange and eccentric woman who owned a plethora of cats, was sitting in a chair on her front porch. "Hello, boys," she greeted, smiling at them.

Harry liked Mrs. Figg, but had always found her rather odd. She'd often babysat for him and Dudley when the Dursleys wanted to go out for the evening. She'd often invite the boys to her house, where she served them biscuits or cake. She'd let them watch TV in the living room while she'd go upstairs to her own room. She was a very quiet woman, but was always cordial to the boys and never did anything Petunia or Vernon found objectionable. She had come to live in the neighborhood shortly after Harry had become a part of the Dursley family.

"Good evening, Mrs. Figg," both boys replied, smiling back.

"Have you had a nice day?" the woman asked. "Another year of school is finished, eh?"

"Yep," Dudley said, grinning. "Thank goodness."

"Oh, come on, Dud. It's not that bad," Harry said with a laugh. "But yeah, we had a great day."

"Would you like to come in for a piece of cake?" asked Mrs. Figg. "It's been quite a while since I've seen you both."

As much as the boys liked her, they didn't particularly want to spend time at her house right now. They wanted to go home and play one of the computer games Dudley had received for his birthday not long ago. But the offer of cake was tempting, and they didn't want to be rude. "Okay," Harry agreed, and Dudley nodded. "We'll come in."

Mrs. Figg smiled as the boys made their way onto the porch. She opened the door, and both boys stepped inside the spacious house. The smell of cabbage permeated their nostrils, and Harry tried to keep his facial expression neutral. This was the one thing he hated about being in this house.

Mrs. Figg led them to the kitchen, where each boy sat down in a chair. Several cats followed her, one of them meowing insistently. "Be patient, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Figg told the fat black one sternly. "I'm going to feed you in a minute. I'm getting these boys their cake first."

Harry and Dudley looked at each other, trying hard not to laugh. Apparently, the cat Mrs. Figg was talking to was a new acquisition. She always called her cats interesting names, and Mr. Darcy was definitely unique. The cat looked as though he were king of the castle, staring at Mrs. Figg in a haughty sort of way.

"I can see those smirks on your faces, boys," said Mrs. Figg, but she didn't seem offended, just amused. Dudley couldn't help the snicker that escaped his lips, and Harry smiled.

Mrs. Figg chuckled a little as she prepared slices of chocolate cake for the two boys. She placed a plate on the table in front of each of them, and poured them a glass of milk. "Here you go," she said, preparing a slice for herself as well. "I think this is very good, even if I do say so myself," she said brightly.

"MEOW!" Mr. Darcy persisted, rubbing against Mrs. Figg's leg.

"Oh, for God's sake! You have no patience at all, do you?" Mrs. Figg said in exasperation. "Once I finish my cake, I'll feed you, you silly beast."

Harry and Dudley devoured their cake as the numerous cats wandered around the room. "Er, how many cats do you have now, Mrs. Figg?" asked Dudley.

"I have six now," Mrs. Figg said, sounding very happy with that fact. "I rescued Mr. Darcy a few weeks ago. Poor thing, he was wandering around looking all forlorn. I'll give him back if I find out someone's looking for him. But for now, I'll keep him here with me. He deserves a good home."

Harry could never see himself owning so many animals. He and Dudley had never had a pet, but some of their friends did. Robert owned a dog who always liked to jump up on the boys whenever they visited, barking his enormous head off. Matthew owned three guinea pigs which were rather cute. They sat in their cage, squeaking in a contented manner as they walked around it. Harry and Dudley liked animals, but unlike many other children, they'd never begged the Dursleys to let them have a pet.

Once the boys and Mrs. Figg were finished with their cake, the woman cleared the plates away and put cat food in several different bowls, and made sure there was enough water for them to drink. Mr. Darcy instantly loped over, munching on the food.

Harry and Dudley were ready to say good night and thank you, but before they could, Mrs. Figg spoke. "Can you boys come in the living room for a moment?" she asked, and there was something in her voice which suddenly made Harry feel oddly uneasy. "There's something important I need to talk to you about."

"Er, sure," said Dudley, confused. Harry didn't know why, but butterflies appeared in his stomach. Mrs. Figg had never spoken like this before, and Harry didn't know what in the world to make of it.

Once they had all settled into the living room, Mrs. Figg cleared her throat, and spoke. "I hear you had a visitor the other day," she said, her voice businesslike.

"What?" said Harry dazedly. Had Mrs. Figg been spying on them? That wasn't like her, he thought, his mind trying to figure out where this conversation was going. "Er, yeah," he said lamely.

"I can see your confusion," said Mrs. Figg, "and no, I was not spying on you. I know this will come as a shock to both of you, and you just think of me as your odd, cat-obsessed babysitter. I planned to tell you when the time was right, but I fear you won't take it very well after what I've heard."

Harry felt the blood drain from his face as a horrible suspicion wormed its way into his mind.

"What do you mean?" Dudley demanded, his face stricken as well. "What are you saying?"

"Shortly after your parents died, Harry," Mrs. Figg said slowly, looking at Harry apologetically, "I moved into this neighborhood. I know you already know this, but you don't know that I was sent here."

"Sent by who?" Harry whispered, his dread mounting. He wanted desperately to jump off the sofa and run out of the house, but he was rooted to the spot, unable to think as the fight-or-flight response kicked in.

"Albus Dumbledore," the woman said softly. "I was given the task of watching over you to make sure you were okay with your relatives."

"So you WERE spying on us!" Dudley accused, his face turning red with anger. "And you're telling us that you did it for YEARS?"

"I'm terribly sorry, Dudley," said Mrs. Figg. "But it needed to be done. You don't disobey a man like Albus Dumbledore."

"How ... how could you?" asked Harry, his heart in his throat. "You ... you're one of them! You're a witch!"

"No, not quite," said Mrs. Figg, her voice remaining gentle and calm. "I'm a Squib." At Harry and Dudley's silence, she explained. "A Squib is someone who was born to magical parents, but somehow possesses no magical powers of their own. I grew up hearing of Hogwarts, and spent quite a bit of time in the wizarding world. Even though I couldn't perform magic, I was able to assist Professor Dumbledore with the war effort. I knew your parents quite well, Harry."

Harry was shaking with anger and betrayal. Mrs. Figg had been hiding her true identity for years, because that manipulative old man made her spy for him. Had Harry experienced any private moments at all? Didn't these witches and wizards have anything better to do than poke their big, fat noses in other people's business? "Let me guess," he snarled, his temper almost at the breaking point. "You're going to try and convince me to go to Hogwarts too."

Dudley stood up, looking at Mrs. Figg furiously as well. "I'm telling Mum and Dad what you've done!" he yelled, clenching his fists. "Why would you trick us like this?"

A thought came to Harry's mind - why hadn't Mrs. Figg sent Dudley home? The answer came to him in a second; it was so obvious. If she'd only asked for Harry to stay, both boys might have found it very suspicious and left the house. Both of them, Harry especially, were very wary of people acting strangely after the acceptance letter came. But with the way Mrs. Figg had handled the situation, there would be no getting out of this conversation.

"Harry, Dudley, please calm down," said Mrs. Figg. "I am very, very sorry, and I wish you would see it differently. Harry, you possess a great gift, and there is so much you could accomplish in that world." For a moment, she looked extremely wistful. "I have come to accept that I'm a Squib," she said quietly, "but for the longest time I would have given anything to have what you have. You have no idea how it felt to watch my old friends go to Hogwarts while I was left behind. You could do great things, Harry, and you should cherish what you've been given. I have watched you closely all these years, and I hate what Petunia and Vernon have done. It's true that magic killed your parents, and there are no words for the horror and destruction that You-Know-Who caused."

Dudley sneered. "You-Know-Who," he scoffed. "You magic people are so insane. You can't even say his name when the man's been gone for almost ten years!"

Harry wholeheartedly agreed. What, did she think Voldemort would appear in the house as soon as his name was uttered?

"Dudley, you truly don't understand the fear that monster caused in people," said Mrs. Figg. "That war went on for eleven years, and the celebrations when it finally ended were astronomical. But Harry, you have only ever been told a lopsided view of magic. There is so much more to it than what has been explained to you. From what I've heard, Hogwarts is a beautiful, spectacular place. The ceiling in the Great Hall is charmed to look like the sky, and the Astronomy Tower is breathtaking. Harry, you have no idea what you'll be missing if you don't take your place at Hogwarts."

"I think I do, thanks," said Harry fiercely, his heart racing. "And let me ask you this. How did people treat you in that world?"

Over the years, Harry had been told stories by Aunt Petunia of how certain people were treated in the magical world, especially Muggles. Learning about the way they were charmed to forget about magic if they saw any made him literally nauseated. How dare they mess with people's minds! The Statute of Secrecy was a bunch of bollocks, and for a split second, he imagined himself breaking it on purpose, doing magic in front of a huge crowd. It would be very difficult for the Obliviators to erase everyone's memories then, wouldn't it?

Mrs. Figg's face paled at Harry's question, and the boy felt a vindictive triumph come over him. "Right," he said, his green eyes blazing. "I thought so. Well, you can just go ahead and tell your master Dumbledore no. Again."

"How many times does it need to be said?" snapped Dudley. "The ANSWER IS NO!"

And with that, Harry's feet decided to start moving. He jumped up off the couch, Dudley following suit. They raced out of the living room, and made a beeline for the front door.

"Harry, please!" Mrs. Figg called after them, sounding very upset. "I'm sorry! I really wasn't trying to upset you!"

And then Harry felt his temper snap, and the front door proceeded to fly open all by itself. Horrified, Harry and Dudley ran outside, and the door slammed so hard that it was a wonder it hadn't flown off the hinges. Both boys ran until they got to Privet Drive.

They stopped a few houses away from theirs in order to catch their breath. To their relief, Mrs. Figg hadn't come after them. She's probably talking to Dumbledore now, and he's plotting his next move, thought Harry bitterly as he and Dudley stood, panting and gasping for breath, Harry holding a stitch in his side.

Oh no, he thought, panic gripping him. I did it again. I've been meditating, but I'm still having accidental magic incidents. What am I going to do?

His thoughts raced as the anger and betrayal he felt towards his babysitter pumped through him. Why couldn't Dumbledore leave him and his family alone? What else had he done to interfere in Harry's life? Would Harry get a moment's peace ever again?

"Let's go home, mate." Dudley quickly patted Harry's shoulder, his face displaying fear and sympathy at the same time. Harry gave Dudley one of the smallest smiles he had ever given, unable to voice how grateful he was for his cousin's support.

And so, they made their way home, Harry constantly looking over his shoulder. This, he thought as they arrived at Number Four, is no way to live. I want it to stop. Now.