When Harry entered, the familiar scent of cabbage met his nose. He quickly
scanned the room. Mrs. Figg was leading Sirius into a back room. Surprised,
Harry said, "Where are you going?" No one answered him. Mrs. Figg closed
the door with a snap. Harry stood there for a few seconds, confused. Then
he crept up to the door and pressed his ear against it. He was surprised to
hear a snipping noise. Mrs. Figg must be cutting Sirius's hair…but why?
Harry was shocked when he suddenly heard Sirius's voice! He cupped his
hands around his ear and strained to hear even better He heard a few names
and phrases such as "Peter Pettigrew," and "Dumbledore," "Voldemort…I
thought you should know…" Harry sat there astounded.
Footsteps were coming to the door. He darted back to the sofa and sat down. Mrs. Figg cam into the room, followed by the black dog that was Sirius. "Hello dear," she said, "You can take your dog home now." Harry frowned…if he had heard wrong, this was going to sound stupid. "Were…were you talking to him?" "Talking? Of course not. Don't be ridiculous." Harry apologized for the cat incident and he and Sirius left. On the way out, he noticed Mrs. Figg's broom lying on the porch. Written clearly across the handle was Silver Arrow. This confirmed Harry's suspicions.
When they got home, Harry and Sirius crept silently up the stairs, not noticed by the Dursley family who were busy watching TV. Harry closed the door and wasted no time. The minute Sirius changed back into a man, he said, "Sirius what was that all about! Is Mrs. Figg a witch? I heard you talking and….who cut your hair?" Sirius's hair was no longer shoulder length, and his face had been cleanly shaved. He looked extremely uncomfortable. "You shouldn't have been listening to our conversation!" he snapped. Then he turned into a talk, turned around three times, and fell asleep, his back to Harry. Harry watched him for a few more moments. He didn't dare repeat the questions that were buzzing in his head.
The next morning, Harry didn't bother to wake Sirius. He went down stairs alone, tired and miserable. He couldn't sleep that night; he had been having another bad dream. He had been having the same one lately, it was about Voldemort and himself dueling, and Harry losing. This dream, however, had included a large Hungarian Horntail and lots of fire. There had been more, but Harry didn't feel like trying to remember at the moment.
Harry didn't like having Sirius mad at him, and the Dursleys were no comfort. Harry spread some jam on a slice of toast. Uncle Vernon was busying himself with the Daily paper, Aunt Petunia was sipping hot tea, and Dudley was laughing jovially at the morning cartoons. Harry could hear footsteps upstairs. He froze. Sirius was up. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Sirius Black came into the kitchen, yawning. He cast a sleepy eye around the table, and lied down on the floor, just like he always did. Except that he forgot to turn into a dog.
Footsteps were coming to the door. He darted back to the sofa and sat down. Mrs. Figg cam into the room, followed by the black dog that was Sirius. "Hello dear," she said, "You can take your dog home now." Harry frowned…if he had heard wrong, this was going to sound stupid. "Were…were you talking to him?" "Talking? Of course not. Don't be ridiculous." Harry apologized for the cat incident and he and Sirius left. On the way out, he noticed Mrs. Figg's broom lying on the porch. Written clearly across the handle was Silver Arrow. This confirmed Harry's suspicions.
When they got home, Harry and Sirius crept silently up the stairs, not noticed by the Dursley family who were busy watching TV. Harry closed the door and wasted no time. The minute Sirius changed back into a man, he said, "Sirius what was that all about! Is Mrs. Figg a witch? I heard you talking and….who cut your hair?" Sirius's hair was no longer shoulder length, and his face had been cleanly shaved. He looked extremely uncomfortable. "You shouldn't have been listening to our conversation!" he snapped. Then he turned into a talk, turned around three times, and fell asleep, his back to Harry. Harry watched him for a few more moments. He didn't dare repeat the questions that were buzzing in his head.
The next morning, Harry didn't bother to wake Sirius. He went down stairs alone, tired and miserable. He couldn't sleep that night; he had been having another bad dream. He had been having the same one lately, it was about Voldemort and himself dueling, and Harry losing. This dream, however, had included a large Hungarian Horntail and lots of fire. There had been more, but Harry didn't feel like trying to remember at the moment.
Harry didn't like having Sirius mad at him, and the Dursleys were no comfort. Harry spread some jam on a slice of toast. Uncle Vernon was busying himself with the Daily paper, Aunt Petunia was sipping hot tea, and Dudley was laughing jovially at the morning cartoons. Harry could hear footsteps upstairs. He froze. Sirius was up. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Sirius Black came into the kitchen, yawning. He cast a sleepy eye around the table, and lied down on the floor, just like he always did. Except that he forgot to turn into a dog.