CHAPTER 5

The next day was Saturday. It dawned early over the whole country, the sun shining brightly from first light. Privet Drive was no different. The summer so far had been stiflingly hot by British standards and the fierce heat was showing no sign of abating. Vernon Dursley woke at the crack of dawn, as he had been doing for most of the summer. The trouble was that he simply did not do well in the heat, his vast size was largely to blame for this - due to the amount of excess weight he was lugging around with him everywhere he found it very difficult to remain cool and was forced to spend most of the day indoors, even then, uncomfortably hot. Needless to say, this did little to calm his temper, which was irritable at the best of times. He always made life a misery for the people around him but in these weather conditions, he surpassed himself…. He had had his wife Petunia running ragged for weeks on end and yesterday he had given his son Dudley a good thrashing when he found him stealing a cake from the fridge. Coughing irritably, Vernon turned over in bed, thumping the pillow with his fist and trying to get more comfortable. From outside, he could hear birds chirping cheerfully… most people would have enjoyed listening to the happy sound…. Vernon Dursley however, was not most people. Bloody birds, he muttered to himself, bloody disgrace… menace to society…. Should all be shot, he murmured irrationally. The bird-song annoyed him more than usual this morning. This was largely due to the fact that it served as a painful reminder that at this very moment, a large snowy owl was sitting caged in his garden shed. He was very unsure how to deal with this bird; he had been giving the problem much consideration since the previous evening, when they had returned home without Harry. True to his word, Uncle Vernon had zoomed off in the car immediately on discovering that Harry was not there when they returned to the car park after their shopping trip. On the way home, he had treated Petunia and Dudley to a long, boring lecture about time-wasters and people who couldn't be punctual. Vernon was suddenly interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of his wife shifting position in bed beside him.

"Vernon?" She hissed in her nasal voice. "Are you awake?"

"Yes." He grunted, feeling very irritable.

Petunia sighed. "What do you think has happened to the boy?" She said, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.

Vernon scoffed. "Didn't think you'd be worrying about him Petunia… he's nothing but a bloody nuisance…. I'll be glad if he never comes back."

"But Vernon… what if the, the… social services find out? We'll be fined…. Put in jail…. Who knows what else?"

Her husband scoffed again, louder this time. "Load of old tosh…. Social services won't come bothering the likes of us Petunia, don't you worry yourself… that boy has given us nothing but grief for the past God knows how long…. No, if you ask me… we're well shot of him. You know what they're like anyway…. His kind…. He'll likely have found someone to take him in… they all band together you know…. Load of weirdo's…. We'll keep well away from them."

Petunia nodded her agreement emphatically, sensing that her husband was near to getting carried away…. It was best to stop him when this happened, if at all possible. They lay in amicable silence for a few moments before Petunia spoke up again anxiously.

"But Vernon…. What about that…that thing in the garage? What are you going to do with it? I won't have it here a day longer you know…. I'm sure it gives me funny looks when I go to hang the washing out, and it won't shut up half the damned time."

Vernon looked aggrieved. "Maybe I'll…. Take it down to the Police station; say I found it…. No…no, I'll just take it somewhere and… set it free, you know, give it it's freedom… it'll probably be glad to be away from those kind of folk you know, probably be doing it a favour." He said, trying to sound convincing.

"But… what if one of the neighbours sees you? That nosy old devil at number 8 never misses a trick, disgraceful I call it, spying on us like that." This was very rich coming from Petunia Dursley, who considered the day a failure if she didn't know every detail of her neighbour's day-to-day lives, right down to what newspaper they read and which supermarket they visited.

Vernon shuddered. He wasn't too keen on the idea of taking the blasted owl anywhere…. He was still sweating when he thought of the reaction he had got when they drew up in the car the previous evening, there had been a considerable amount of curtain twitching going on all down Privet drive when the residents saw Vernon Dursley – a possible contender for the most conservative man in Britain – carrying a full grown, caged snowy owl down his garden path. Vernon had needed a very large whiskey when he got indoors and he had not been able to face going near the rest of his nephew's belongings…. They were still in the back of the car and were likely to remain there for quite some time.

Although it was just after 7 am, the heat in the bedroom was already unbearable – Petunia refused point-blank to have a window open as she was mortally afraid of bats, the fact that she had never even seen one being neither here nor there. Unable to take it anymore, Vernon heaved himself out of bed – not an easy task for a man who was nearing twenty stones in weight – and muttered irritably that he was going for a shower. Sighing heavily to herself, his wife turned over, threw off the duvet and headed out of the door, pulling her dressing gown around herself as she did so. She went downstairs and into the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast for her husband and son – no mean feat.

*

Some half-hour later, the entire Dursley family were seated around the table in the kitchen. Vernon and Dudley were tucking into large plates of bacon, eggs, tomatoes and fried bread – no matter how hot the weather got, it would not deter Vernon from his cooked breakfast. Petunia was sipping tea from a china cup and craning her neck out of the window, watching Mr Watson from across the street who was innocently mowing his front lawn.

"More bacon!" Dudley demanded loudly.

"Right you are Duddy." His mother replied adoringly. She leapt from her seat and snatched the frying pan from the cooker. She then proceeded to heap a generous helping of bacon onto her son's plate. Dudley started eating again, his table manners as atrocious as ever.

There was relative peace for a few minutes; Vernon and Dudley were always quiet when they were eating. The languid silence was punctuated only by Petunia's occasional comments about the disgraceful way that Mr Watson was mowing his lawn. The calm mood was short lived however as a demented hooting and squawking drifted in through the open kitchen door, disrupting the peace. Vernon leapt from his seat, knocking the remainder of his breakfast over as he did so. "That ruddy owl!" He bellowed, enraged. His mouth was full of fried egg and it sprayed unattractively over the table as he shouted.

Dashing out the door – or at least moving slightly faster than usual – he headed for the garden shed. Flinging the door open, he saw Hedwig inside, showing no sign of being quiet and flapping her wings frantically. She looked disgustedly at Vernon, clearly outraged at the shocking way he had been treating her for the past 12 hours.

"You… you…. You…." Vernon stammered, sounding slightly demented. "You shut up! This minute… that's an order!"

Hedwig paid him no attention whatsoever and continued making as much noise as possible. Vernon glared at her, out of his mind with rage but having no idea what to do. He gawped at the owl a few moments longer before spinning on his heel and heading back across the garden, slamming the shed door loudly behind him, as if he thought that would have some beneficial effect. Muttering to himself about phoning someone to complain (he had no idea who) he marched back into the kitchen, ready to complain more loudly than ever before to his long-suffering wife. He slammed the kitchen door too, hoping to drown out Hedwig's frantic hooting. Luckily for Petunia, before he could open his mouth the doorbell interrupted him.

"I'll just go and get that dear…. Why don't you have a nice brandy or something… steady your nerves a bit."

Despite the fact that it was still very early in the morning, Vernon took her advice. Sloshing some brandy into his mug (still half-full of tea) he took a long swig. Flinging himself down in his chair, his great purple face looking angrier than ever, he heard his wife's voice drifting down the hallway.

"Mrs Figg!" Petunia sounded surprised. "Why don't you come in?"

Vernon frowned. As if the day wasn't bad enough. Now he would have to put up with that demented old bat from down the road banging on for the next hour about how the price of baked beans had gone up two pence down at the corner shop or something equally tedious.

"Thank you my dear…. This won't take long." A second voice drifted down the corridor.

Dudley looked up from his place at the table where he had just started scoffing a large bowl of sugared cereal, heaped so full it was almost over-flowing.

"That didn't sound like Mrs Figg." He exclaimed, confused.

His father stared at him. "Idiot boy…. It was Mrs Figg if your mother said it was… don't say such stupid things, do you hear me?" With that he heaved himself down the hallway. His son had been right, much as he hated to admit it…. There had been something different about the old woman's voice… as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she didn't have to pretend about something anymore…. In spite of himself, he was curious.

Dudley sighed to himself and returned his attention to his cereal. Now that Harry was not here, his father had started picking on him much more… something he didn't like one bit. It would almost be worth having his cousin back if it meant that he wouldn't be the subject of his fathers' jibes anymore.

In the sitting room, Vernon saw his wife seated on the sofa and Mrs Figg perched on the edge of an armchair. Vernon stared at her curiously… she not only sounded different, she looked different somehow… nothing too noticeable but there was a definite twinkle in her eye that was not usually there. He sat down on the sofa beside his wife and snapped sharply at Mrs Figg.

"Well? What are you here for at this time of the morning? You'd better not be wanting to borrow some milk or anything… we haven't, haven't got any." He said, lying about the milk of course.

Most people would have been astonished and annoyed by this blatant display of rudeness but Mrs Figg merely chuckled and shook her head ruefully at him.

"You really must remember to control that temper Mr Dursley." She said with the utmost politeness. "It is no wonder Harry is always so unhappy here, no wonder at all."

Vernon narrowed his eyes angrily. His mood was not going to be improved by talking about his nephew.

"Just say what you've come to say and go Mrs Figg, if you don't mind… my nephew is of no consequence to you."

Mrs Figg chuckled again and Vernon felt infuriated.

"If only you knew… your nephew has been my reason for being for the past few years…. Do you have any idea how difficult it has been for me to watch him, stuck here with you? A family of the worst muggles I have ever laid eyes upon."

Vernon narrowed his eyes further, immediately suspicious. Muggle? He had heard that before somewhere and he knew he didn't like being called it one bit. It reminded him somehow of… well…. That kind of person. Then suddenly, awfully, realisation began to dawn on him. His mouth gaped, his shoulders sagged and beads of sweat began to pop out on his forehead as he turned on Mrs Figg.

"You…. You…. You…" Was all he could muster however, before flopping back on the sofa.

"Yes, I." Mrs Figg said calmly. "Am a witch. Albus Dumbledore has had me stay here for the past few years to ensure your nephews protection against dark magic. Let me tell you, it has been no great joy living near people such as yourself. Your stupidity yesterday could very easily have cost Harry his life and it is a great mercy that it did not. I am here to tell you that Harry will not be returning to you this summer. Professor Dumbledore has made provisions for him. I will also, if I may collect Harry's belongings. I believe you have been having some difficulty with an owl?" She looked amused.

Vernon stared. For once in his life he had no idea what to say. Petunia was still smiling benignly, as if she thought the whole thing was some sort of set-up. Vernon was not tongue-tied for long however, heaving himself to his feet, sweating profusely he pushed his great purple face right up to Mrs Figg.

"You disgust me, do you know that? Faffing about all day with magic tricks…. Leaving good, law-abiding citizens like me to do your dirty work?" He hissed, not seeming to be aware that he was making little or no sense.

Mrs Figg smiled and reaching into her pocket she drew out a wand. Calmly but firmly she pointed it at Vernon who backed away looking horrified. "I think you have said enough." She said quietly. "Do not make me do something I will highly regret." Petunia gave a small squeak before promptly fainting. Not seeing anything else for it, Vernon stumbled out of the door and returned some ten minutes later, lugging Harry's trunk behind him and carrying Hedwig's cage in his other hand.

"There." He said, dumping them both in front of Mrs Figg unceremoniously. "Take them, get out and NEVER and I mean NEVER darken my doorstep again." He continued, seething.

Mrs Figg smiled calmly once again and with a flick of her wand the lock on Hedwig's cage sprang open. Hedwig soared joyously out of the open window to the astonished cries of the neighbours. Vernon swayed dangerously and dragged the curtains shut quickly, shielding them from the curious stares of the neighbours. Pointing the wand at the trunk this time, Mrs Figg exclaimed "Reducio!" Promptly the trunk shrunk to the size of a postage stamp. Vernon felt his eyes bulge. "Well Mr Dursley." Mrs Figg said quietly. "I'm very glad to have got all that sorted out…. And so amicably too." A hint of sarcasm crept into her steady voice as she swept from the room. "Goodbye!"

Vernon waited to hear the front door click shut before he bellowed loudly. "DUDLEY! BRING ME THE BRANDY….. THE WHISKEY TOO!" With that he slumped back down onto the sofa, beside his still unconscious wife.

A/N: I was going to extend this chapter with the entrance of the Malfoy's but I couldn't resist giving a whole chapter to the ever delightful Dursley family, so The Malfoy's will be making their entrance at the start of the next chapter instead. Thank you as always for reading and reviewing.

Just a couple of notes for people, as before.

Sirius Black - Thank you for your positive comments and also for taking the time to have a look at my other fics. Please don't worry about not liking my fic 'The practicalities of potions, it was just an idea that refused to leave me alone so I typed it up and posted it. It has had quite a lot of positive reviews, which surprised me, but I fully appreciate that that sort of fic is not to everyone's tastes! Thank you again for reading and reviewing.

Nuts - Just wanted to say a big thank you to you for your lovely reviews!

Thanks again everyone.

PC