The next Monday morning came around much too quickly for Harry. He
was leaving the open contempt of the Dursleys, but only to gain the mind
numbing boredom of Mrs. Figg's. Never had he wished he were back at
Hogwarts so hard.
"Hurry up, boy! We've got to meet Marge at the airport in an hour!"
Harry finished scribbling an apologetic note to Ron, and tied it to
Hedwig's leg. "Ron will send you back to me when I get home. Until then,
stay with him, okay?" Hedwig nipped his fingertip affectionately, as
though she sympathized with him, and then flew out the window. Harry
picked up his bags and sloped downstairs, finding an anxious Uncle Vernon
at the foot of the steps.
"I'll take those," Uncle Vernon snarled. Harry just stared at him,
nonplussed. "I hope you didn't think you'd do a bit of homework at Mrs.
Figg's," Uncle Vernon snorted by way of explanation. He reached into
Harry's backpack "I won't have her finding out about your --
AAAAUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH!" He pulled out his hand and stared at his red,
swollen index finger. "Something bit me!"
Harry had to try hard not to laugh. "It's just my book. It's about Magi-
um, creatures ... it's about animals." He stifled a giggle. "I thought I'd
tied it up tight, but apparently it got loose."
"YOU ARE NOT TAKING YOUR SCHOOLTHINGS TO MRS. FIGG'S! GIVE ME
THAT BAG! GET IN THE CAR!" Harry rushed past Uncle Vernon, shaking
with laughter, stowed his two bags of clothes in the trunk, and sat down
in the backseat next to Dudley, who was craning his neck to see what his
father was yelling about. Maybe Harry wouldn't get to finish his
homework at Mrs. Figg's house, but the expression on Uncle Vernon's face
was worth any detention. A couple minutes later, Uncle Vernon brought
out Harry's backpack, considerably lighter than when it had left Harry's
bedroom. He chucked it onto Harry's lap.
"Blasted thing ... Nearly drew blood ... Locked it away in the cupboard-
that'll teach it!" he muttered. A startled Aunt Petunia looked over at him
from the front passenger seat. He took a deep breath. "Right," he finally
mumbled. "Let's go."
***
"Thank you for watching him, Mrs. Figg. It really is so sweet of you. We would take him with us, you know, but the silly child gets airsick. A
shame, really," Aunt Petunia looked at Harry with feigned compassion. He
thought he was going to be nauseous.
"It's quite alright, dear. Harry and I are going to have a good time until
you get back--won't we, Harry?" Mrs. Figg reached down and pinched both
his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw Aunt
Petunia smile.
Petunia said a polite goodbye and hurried out the door. Harry watched
the Dursleys pull out of Mrs. Figg's driveway. He wondered what Tuscany
must be like this time of year.
"Care for a cupcake, dear? Cucumber sandwich?" Harry turned around. Mrs. Figg was holding out a plateful of obviously stale sandwiches and
some cupcakes that looked as hard as any substance on earth, possibly
aside from Hagrid's own rock cakes.
"Um, no thanks, I just ate." Harry didn't like lying to Mrs. Figg, but felt
he had no option. He moved to pick up his bags. "I'll just put these away." He turned and made his way down the hall, toward the guest bedroom.
"Alright dear." Mrs. Figg went and set the plate down on the kitchen
table. "But I do hope you brought your dress robes."
Harry stopped dead. He thought his ears must be playing tricks--surely
he hadn't just heard what he thought he'd heard. He slowly spun around in
his tracks and faced her. "Excuse ... me?" he whispered.
Mrs. Figg looked up from the plate. "I said, I hope you brought your
dress robes." She paused, taking in his astonishment amusedly. "That's
what you're expected to wear to a wizard wedding, you know. Dress
robes."
Harry's jaw dropped. "But how ... You knew? How did you know? Who-
?"
"Harry." Mrs. Figg's voice had changed. It was lower, not the sweet
Mrs.-Figg voice Harry was used to, but a matter-of-fact tone that told him
she knew a great deal more about him than she had ever let on. She
focused on him, and stared at him in a way that made him feel as though
she were looking right through him. "Surely you knew. Albus told me he'd
mentioned me by name last term. He thought you'd realized, Harry."
He still couldn't quite take it in. "You." He closed his eyes and took a
deep breath. "You're a witch?" She knew Dumbledore, and she knew about
Percy's wedding. There was no other explanation.
Mrs. Figg nodded. "Yes, Harry. I never told you, and I had my reasons. There's a great deal to be explained. But first things first; I've been given an order by Professor Dumbledore to take you to Percy Weasley's wedding. And I want to know: did you, or did you not, bring your dress robes?"
***
Harry sat at Mrs. Figg's kitchen table and tried to collect his thoughts. It was all still so new. He had known Mrs. Figg all his life, and never had
he suspected that she was a witch, or that she knew that he was a wizard.
She finished making the tea and sat down opposite him. She gave him a
sympathetic smile and handed him a cup.
"That's alright, dear," she spoke warmly. "It will be easy enough for
me to fetch your things from the Dursleys'. You be wanting me to bring
back your schoolbooks, too, I suppose. That way you can get some work
done while you're here ..."
"I'm not thinking about that," Harry replied. "Oh, thank you," he said as
he noticed the cup of hot tea.
"Of course you weren't. You were trying to get your mind around the
fact that boring old Mrs. Figg is an Auror!"
"You're WHAT?" Harry exclaimed, nearly dropping his teacup. "You're
an ... an Auror?!" He might be able to picture Mrs. Figg stirring a cauldron,
or taking care of magical creatures, even. But fighting Dark wizards?
Mrs. Figg laughed out loud. "Yes, of course! But I'm confusing you now. I reckon I should start from the beginning, eh?" She threw her head back
and closed her eyes, as if she were trying to recall events that had taken
place long ago. She opened her eyes again and directed them at Harry. "I
have been friends with Albus Dumbledore ever since our school days. He
trusted me, and he trusted my late husband. That's why he came to me
when Voldemort disappeared." She noted Harry's expression of surprise at
her use of the name, but she continued. "I never knew your parents, Harry,
though of course I knew of them. They were very well-known in the
wizarding community. Anyway, when they were killed, I was tracking
Dark wizards in Wales. Those were such difficult times at the Ministry." She shook her head. "We got word that a couple of Death Eaters in Wales
were planning an attack on some Muggles, and I was sent out to stop them,
but they got away. Anyway, I was just getting ready to return to Surrey
when who should Apparate right in front of me but Albus? Tells me a wild
story about a Killing curse that backfired, and a baby with a scar," she
smiled as she glanced at the lightning-shape scar on Harry's forehead. "Then in flies that Rubeus Hagrid fellow on a flying motorcycle! And to
top it all, he was carrying something--the baby. You."
Mrs. Figg paused, obviously thinking hard. "Now, we've kept this from
you for some time, but I suppose you're old enough to know it all now. Right then and there, in that rooming house in Wales where I'd been
staying, Albus Dumbledore made me your Secret-Keeper; he performed the
Fidelius charm. Now, normally the subject--that would be you--must hold
his Secret-Keeper in mind while the charm is performed. But Albus
devised a way to appoint a Secret-Keeper for you, since you were only an
infant. The only limitation was that the charm would only work as long as
you resided with your next of kin."
It made sense, Harry thought. He remembered the end of last term,
when Mrs. Weasley had asked to have Harry stay at the Burrow all summer,
and how Professor Dumbledore had told her that Harry must stay at the
Dursleys', "at least for a while". Mrs. Figg saw the comprehension
dawning on his face.
"Yes, that's right," she replied, as though he had spoken his thoughts
out loud. "You had a godfather, and anyone in the wizarding world would
have gladly taken you in. But Professor Dumbledore was forced to leave
you with the Dursleys. And, truth be told, I think he preferred it that way. Better that you not know everything until you were old enough to
understand it, he used to say."
"So, there you were, and Albus asked me to move in here to watch over
you in case any Dark wizards tried to find you. Though he needn't have
bothered. No one did. Voldemort was smart enough to try to get to you
where you were unprotected by the Fidelius charm--at Hogwarts. Though I
daresay he didn't succeed!" She looked down, chuckling merrily to herself. "Three times, Harry! Three times you defeated him." She stopped laughing
at looked at him affectionately. "I'm sure your father would have been
very proud."
Harry gazed at Mrs. Figg with a new respect. The simple old woman
who he had hardly given a thought had spent fourteen years of her life
watching over him. He didn't know what to say.
"You're welcome," she said warmly. She stood up and placed her teacup
in the sink. "Now, I think I'll Apparate over to the Dursleys' and collect
your dress robes. If you tell me which books and school things you want,
I'll be happy to get them for you. Oh, and why don't you use my owl to send
a note to your friend Ron?" She produced a piece of parchment and a quill
from a kitchen drawer and handed them over. She whistled, and a dark
screech owl flew in from one of the back bedrooms, landed on the table,
and surveyed Harry curiously. "Tell him we'll both be attending that
wedding."
Harry lay awake in the guest bed that night, too excited to sleep. Mrs.
Figg would take him to Diagon Alley a week before school started on
September 1. There he would meet the Weasleys and buy all his school
supplies for the year. He would go back to the Burrow with them, and stay
there until he, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George left for Hogwarts together. Harry smiled, closed his eyes, and pictured a sunburned Dudley whining for
more lasagna. He had never been so glad to be left behind by the Dursleys.
