~3~
Harry couldn't believe his ears, but he eventually realized that she had said muggle. A thousand questions surfaced in his brain all at once, but all that came from his mouth was silence. She kept her smile on her face and continued walking as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Figg looked eventually stopped walking, looked at him and giggled. He couldn't talk, he couldn't even think. Standing there smiling only lasted until the sound of thunder crashed so hard that they both felt it vibrate through their rib cages. The once sunny sky was quickly being covered by dark gray clouds rumbling in.
"We'll talk later. We should pick up the pace and get to my house, quickly," her smile quickly vanished and her facial expression was replaced by a worried, solemn look. Harry just did as he was told.
It began raining on them. The rain smacked their cheeks and dripped down their necks. Once they were inside Mrs. Figg's house their clothes were drenched and their cheeks rose red. She whipped out her wand and magicked her fireplace on, Harry's things upstairs, and their clothes dry.
"Don't look at me like that Harry, dear, you surely must have known Dumbledore wouldn't leave you here in the muggle world with only the Dursleys," the thought had crossed Harry's mind a few times, but it never occurred to him that poor old Mrs. Figg could be a witch. Now, he wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed it. Strangers were the only ones nice to him, and they were obviously witches and wizards, them and Mrs. Figg. "Take a seat, it'll come to you. I'll go get some snacks, I'm sure those Dursleys don't feed you well, hmmm?" She whisked off into the kitchen, now with a younger, more confident stride. She walked a way Harry had never seen her walk before.
He sat down in the plush, red velvet seat. It was very comfortable, and warm, since it was positioned right next to the fire. The fire she had in her room filled with antique, beautiful things was like none other he had ever seen. The tips squeaked each time they licked the air. He put his head closer and something jumped out and flew into the air with a zzziiiippp sound. Harry pulled his head back quickly. Mrs. Figg walked into the room.
"Fire demons, the name doesn't suit them, they're the sweetest little things," she placed the tray on a table between Harry's and her chair.
"So, you've been here to...protect me from Voldemort... or other Dark Wizards since I was young? Dumbledore sent you?" she laughed politely at his curiosity.
"Yes, yes, not so much Voldemort, but just evil in general. You're a very special boy, Harry. We have to keep you safe," Harry helped himself to some milk, sweet chewy mints, and ginger snap cookies as he looked at her with admiration. She was one of the few people he had ever known to say Voldemort's name.
Harry couldn't believe his ears, but he eventually realized that she had said muggle. A thousand questions surfaced in his brain all at once, but all that came from his mouth was silence. She kept her smile on her face and continued walking as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Figg looked eventually stopped walking, looked at him and giggled. He couldn't talk, he couldn't even think. Standing there smiling only lasted until the sound of thunder crashed so hard that they both felt it vibrate through their rib cages. The once sunny sky was quickly being covered by dark gray clouds rumbling in.
"We'll talk later. We should pick up the pace and get to my house, quickly," her smile quickly vanished and her facial expression was replaced by a worried, solemn look. Harry just did as he was told.
It began raining on them. The rain smacked their cheeks and dripped down their necks. Once they were inside Mrs. Figg's house their clothes were drenched and their cheeks rose red. She whipped out her wand and magicked her fireplace on, Harry's things upstairs, and their clothes dry.
"Don't look at me like that Harry, dear, you surely must have known Dumbledore wouldn't leave you here in the muggle world with only the Dursleys," the thought had crossed Harry's mind a few times, but it never occurred to him that poor old Mrs. Figg could be a witch. Now, he wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed it. Strangers were the only ones nice to him, and they were obviously witches and wizards, them and Mrs. Figg. "Take a seat, it'll come to you. I'll go get some snacks, I'm sure those Dursleys don't feed you well, hmmm?" She whisked off into the kitchen, now with a younger, more confident stride. She walked a way Harry had never seen her walk before.
He sat down in the plush, red velvet seat. It was very comfortable, and warm, since it was positioned right next to the fire. The fire she had in her room filled with antique, beautiful things was like none other he had ever seen. The tips squeaked each time they licked the air. He put his head closer and something jumped out and flew into the air with a zzziiiippp sound. Harry pulled his head back quickly. Mrs. Figg walked into the room.
"Fire demons, the name doesn't suit them, they're the sweetest little things," she placed the tray on a table between Harry's and her chair.
"So, you've been here to...protect me from Voldemort... or other Dark Wizards since I was young? Dumbledore sent you?" she laughed politely at his curiosity.
"Yes, yes, not so much Voldemort, but just evil in general. You're a very special boy, Harry. We have to keep you safe," Harry helped himself to some milk, sweet chewy mints, and ginger snap cookies as he looked at her with admiration. She was one of the few people he had ever known to say Voldemort's name.