Chapter 2
Harry stood on the doorstep for a few moments, at a loss for what to do. He raised his hand to knock. The door swung open suddenly. Harry blinked several times. Instead of Mrs. Figg, a girl had opened the door. She was about his age with black hair and blue eyes. She was very pretty. Not quite as pretty as Cho Chang, Harry's crush, but pretty all the same. She smiled at him. "You must be Harry," she said quickly.
"Um- yeah," Harry replied.
"They told Aunty you were coming this afternoon." Harry figured "they" were the Dursleys. "Would you like a hand?" she replied.
"No, I can manage," Harry insisted, but the girl had already grabbed one handle of the trunk, leaving Harry no choice but to grab the other.

Together they lugged it upstairs. "You'll be staying here," she said, opening the first door they came to. Harry looked around. It was quite a nice room actually. There was a large window on one side. Harry's bed was against the wall. There was a small bookshelf, filled with books except for one shelf, which was bare. There was a small wardrobe and even a desk.

"Thank you," he said, a little flabbergasted.
"Oh my! How rude I've been! I didn't even introduce myself! I'm Cassandra Figg- Mrs. Figg's niece," she said offering her hand.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Harry Potter," he replied, shaking her hand. Was Harry just imagining it or had her eyes automatically traveled to his forehead? People always did that when Harry gave his name, but those had been wizarding people. Ordinary people, or Muggles, hardly looked at his scar and had no idea what lay behind it.

"What's that from?" she asked, nodding toward his scar.
"I got it from the accident my parents died in," he replied quietly.
"Oh. What kind of accident- if you don't mind talking about it, of course?"
"A car crash," Harry lied. He wasn't about to tell a complete stranger that his scar was the result of spell the most powerful dark wizard in almost a century had tried to kill him with after killing his parents. That would ruin any chance he had of pretending to be normal.
"Oh," she said again. "Have you eaten?" Harry shook his head. "Good. Lunch will be ready when you've finished unpacking," she replied.

When she had gone, Harry began to unpack. He didn't have much- some of Dudley's old clothes, a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and some socks. Harry had tried to pack his schoolbooks, thinking he'd a least get some homework done, but Uncle Vernon had searched his trunk and removed anything that smacked of his abnormality. Harry thought longingly of his Firebolt, a present from his godfather, sighed, and went downstairs.

He found Cassandra and Mrs. Figg waiting for him in the dining room. Harry sniffed the air ever so slightly. The house smelled far less like cabbage then he remembered. Then he realized all the windows were open. "Sit down, Harry," invited Mrs. Figg.

Mrs. Figg, by Harry's estimate, was at least seventy. She looked very well for her age. The dark brown her hair had been when she was younger was still visible among the gray streaks in her hair now. Her eyes were a pale blue and always looked rather distant. She wore typical old lady dresses, the floral ones, with buttons down the front, but she wore them with leather boots. She had all kinds of boots: heeled boots, high boots, lace-up boots, zip-up boots, and she had them in all colors. Today she wore blue ankle boots to match her blue flowered dress.

Harry sat down. Something was different about Mrs. Figg's house, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "Sandwich?" Cassandra asked offering him a plate piled with them.
"Thank you," he said taking one. They ate in silence for awhile.

"How long are your aunt and uncle going to be out of town?" Mrs. Figg asked.
"I don't know," Harry replied truthfully.
"The longer the better. Maybe they'll get lost on the way back," Mrs. Figg sighed. Harry wasn't sure how to respond. He just sat and stared at her. She smiled at him. "Don't sit there with your mouth open, Harry. It's unsightly. Eat, dear."

By evening, Harry figured out what was different about Mrs. Figg's house. There weren't a dozen cats skulking about everywhere. Only Snowy roamed the house now. "Mrs. Figg, what happened to all your cats?" Harry asked timidly.
"They were getting old, Harry. Two of them became sick while you were at school and had to be put to sleep. Another one was run over by your mutton-headed uncle." Harry stifled a laugh. Cassandra looked up from a book she had been reading. Mrs. Figg smiled once more.

Harry, Cassandra, and Mrs. Figg stayed up late playing board games. Harry actually won several games. He had no idea Mrs. Figg could be this much fun. During one game she started muttered something under her breath. "Cheater!" Cassandra laughed. "No cheating this time, Auntie!" Mrs. Figg settled for telling jokes and funny stories. Harry laughed so hard his sides ached. He clambered into bed exhausted and looking forward to the weeks to come.