Chapter 2: Reveal

The rat looked up at the window of 4 Privet Drive and watched as the dark haired boy gazed out into the distance. The small black eyes swivelled around to look at the area around the house; there was no obvious protection, like the slight shimmer of light that indicated some sort of charm or ward. The rat crept out of the bushes and towards 4 Privet drive, it made sure it kept to the shadows for the risk of being noticed.

If he could get Potter to his master, he would receive the highest honour; no one would dare demean him again for risk of his master's wrath. Certain people would be laughing on the other side of their faces when they saw him walk up to his Lord with the Potter boy squirming in his arms – people that included a contemptuous, blond, stormy eyed man. His teeth chattered in excitement as he thought of the look that would pass over Malfoy's face.

Not a creature stirred to watch the rat, if they had they would have seen the creature's ears twitch as thoughts of its future glory swam around in its head, filling it with a happy bubbling in its gut.

His paws pattered along the ground silently, and as thoughts consumed him, he became distracted by them. He did not feel the ward until it pulled on him; it wasn't the sort of pull from physical contact, it was a pull from deep inside, a tugging that stopped him going any further. He felt like his limbs were being held in an invisible iron grip.

He should have known not to underestimate how far the boy's protector's would go to keep him safe, he should have known that some one who wished Potter harm would not be able to just walk through the door and take him. He should have known he would never have been able to carry out the plan he had mapped out in his small brain. But this rat was so overcome by what he would of achieved had he got what he wanted, that he never considered the consequences if he was caught.

As the tugging from inside got more intense, the rat struggled against it and pushed violently backwards, as soon as it was free it fled away from the house. The filthy creature darted in the gutter and down a drain, following the other rats and running towards its Master. It heard a desperate shout behind it but just kept on running.

If the street hadn't been deadly silent at that moment, Harry might have missed the sound of rustling bushes on a windless night.

He looked down sharply, feeling his blood pumping faster than it should. His eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, but when they did he saw a rat standing a few yards from the front door. It seemed to be struggling a few inches from the grounds, writhing against some invisible cords. As it turned on its side Harry found the light shining down from the street lamps reflected something unnatural about the rat.

It had a silver paw.

Time slowed down to a complete halt in that second.

The room spun in front of Harry's eyes. His heart rate sped up immediately, the pounding in his ears was deafening and the banging in his chest was almost painful. He knew that it was Pettigrew, he knew it, he wanted to jump up and kill him right there. But Harry couldn't do anything, his feet were frozen to the ground, and images were speeding through his mind, images of the third task, images of the shrieking shack. But, strangely, it was the last image that put Harry into action.

His parent's wedding picture.

In a second Harry had grabbed the wand from his holder and shot out the bedroom door, jumped down the stairs six at a time, threw open the front door and was sprinting down Privet drive faster then he had ever run in his life.

By that point the rat had managed to slink away from the ward, and was running towards the gutter with a few rats alongside him.

Harry shot the first spell that came into his head.

"Accio"

The rat came hurtling towards him at great speed, shrieking indignantly and writhing as it hit his outstretched hand.

Harry's heart plummeted to the floor.

It was just a regular rat. No silver paw. Another two or three ran into the drain, none of them were Pettigrew. Harry dropped it and watched as it followed the others. He knew that the one he had seen was Pettigrew, he saw with his own eyes. The thought of the disgusting traitor returning to his master infuriated Harry to the point he could hardly see straight. Pettigrew was the one who had been with his father in the Forbidden Forest, knowing all along that he was going to be his downfall. Pettigrew had killed his parents, Cedric, and had broken Sirius to the point of no return.

Harry felt pure hatred course through his veins, causing him to shake violently. He wanted to kill Pettigrew, he wanted to kill Lucius Malfoy, and most of all; Voldemort, he was the source of it all.

The hate inside him completely took over; it rose from a small burning in his gut and grew till it was a huge, roaring fire.

He violently kicked one of the small trees on the road, picturing the faces of the people who had done this to him. It made him feel better, so he did it again and again. All he could think was of all the hurt his loved ones had felt, all the hurt he had caused, and the fact that that rat had just slipped through his fingers.

There was a loud smashing, and before Harry knew what had happened, pieces of glass from smashed milk bottles came hurtling at the unfortunate tree; they came at such a speed that they wedged deep inside it.

He sank to his knees, the realisation of what had just happened over coming him. He hadn't used that amount of energy since the end of last term - he was emotionally and physically exhausted. The lack of food, the shock, the energy he had used, and lack of sleep caused Harry to feel sickeningly dizzy, the floor moved around him, and he fell into nothingness before his head hit the floor.

. . . . . . . . x. . . . . . . .

A weight on his chest was what he noticed first, then a voice.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, seeing only a blue blur in front of him; he reached to his bedside table for his glasses and panicked when he couldn't find them – them or the table.

The voice over him became clearer.

"Oh good, you're awake," he recognised that voice, it was female, sort of soft, kind…old.

The feeling of his glasses being place in his hands made him feel more relaxed and he put them on as quick as his body would allow – he felt heavy.

"There you go, you just lie back and relax and everything will be fine."

Now that Harry had awoken completely, he took note of his surroundings, and his company.

He was in a white painted living room, lying on a navy blue sofa. The carpet was dark blue, and there was a crackling, warm fire just opposite where he was lying. There was an armchair on his left facing the fire, which was also blue.

Mrs. Figg was the one who had spoken, and she was currently sitting in the armchair surveying him with kind eyes.

Harry opened his mouth to ask how and when he had been put on her sofa, but instead a low gurgling sort of sound came out.

"Hush, hush, don't try to talk, you just be quiet now and I will do all the talking. All right?"

Harry nodded, groaning inwardly.

"You got yourself in quite a state didn't you? Found you lying on the grass outside my house. So, I brought you in here, laid you down on the sofa, lit a fire and kept you warm with those blankets – I'm very surprised you didn't catch your death out there."

She paused and gave him a look that said: 'now you're here I'm going to fuss over you till your blue in the face and shower you with pictures of my cats.'

If Harry hadn't been feeling as bad as he did, he would have jumped out the window and made a run for it.

"How would you like some cocoa?"

He nodded again, frustrated with his inability to find his tongue.

As Mrs. Figg walked out of the room and into the kitchen, Harry paid attention to the weight that was on his chest – a cat. It reminded him of Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, it had the same intelligent, knowing eyes, but this cat was a rather fat tabby.

"Ah, I see you've met Bianca, she wouldn't leave your side the whole time you've been here, she's a very affectionate cat."

She handed Harry his cocoa, and he took it with both hands, sitting up as he did so.

He sipped it carefully; his hands were shaking so he had to be careful not to let it spill everywhere. It ran down his throat, warming him inside, his throat soothed and his stomach stopped aching, it was warm on his chapped lips and after a sip he notice that they were once again smooth.

"Feel better?" asked Mrs. Figg.

"Yes, thanks" his voice still wasn't back to normal, it was slightly croaky.

She winked at him, "Good, good, I knew that would do the trick."

"Mrs. Figg, I really feel much better; I should probably get back to my Aunt's."

He went to rise, but she placed a firm hand on his chest, and pushed him back down gently.

"Oh no you don't, you're not getting away from me that easily. You may feel better, but that doesn't mean your body's ready to get up and go, no, you'll stay here until your legs feel like moving again."

Please no.

Mrs. Figg sat down in the large armchair by the fire, picked up what looked like a remote control, and pressed a button. Harry jumped as the TV turned on; he hadn't even noticed there was one in the room – it was at the end of the sofa by his feet facing the armchair and sofa.

"I hope you don't mind Harry dear, I like a bit of six o'clock news."

Six o'clock?!

The sound of a reporter talking reached Harry's ears.

"……….a truly horrific crime. The police are saying that this could be the work of devil worshippers who have already committed a total of four shocking crimes, all with similar endings. Forensics were not able to recognise the bodies of George, Sarah and their son Matthew Crew. They had to identify them from dental records; it looks as though they were stabbed to death, then used as a sacrifice for some sort of ritual. Another body was found nearby, savaged by dogs…………"

A horrible feeling rolled around Harry's gut, it must have been them, last night. His throat closed up, and he looked away from the television, the rolling in his stomach continued.

"Harry, you've gone very pale, is everything all right?"

Once again, the images rolled through his mind, the child's screams echoed through his head, he put his hands over his ears to block out the sound.

"Harry?"

"Harry?"

He opened his eyes and Mrs. Figg's concerned face swam into his vision.

"Oh Harry," she whispered.

Arms wrapped around him for a short moment, but they were gone as soon as they had reached out. Mrs. Figg got up again and walked into the kitchen, and Harry could hear her sniffling.

I need to get out of here, he thought, putting his hand over his wand holder.

He visibly jolted when he felt the empty holder.

Oh no.

Harry practically jumped off the sofa, his body screaming in protest, his legs shaking as he tried to move. He walked as quietly as he could through the hall passing the kitchen, and saw Mrs. Figg pouring tea into a kettle. He heard soft paws padding along behind him, and looked around to see Bianca following him closely, her eyes surveying him curiously.

Harry made furious hand movements trying desperately to shoo her away, but she merely swished her tail from side to side, opened her small mouth and…

"No don't!" Harry whispered.

MEOOOW, she let out a long, loud howl.

Stupid cat.

"Bianca?" Mrs. Figg came out of the kitchen, looked at the cat, then looked up at Harry.

"Harry what are you doing? Come on dear, let's get you back on the sofa."

"Erm, Mrs. Figg, the thing is, I…errr…. must of dropped something when I was outside…. it's quite important. I won't be long."

She walked back into the kitchen and came back out holding a long, shiny piece of wood. Harry stared wide eyed, and had to clench his fingers to stop himself running forward and snatching it from her.

"Is this what you wanted?" The old, creaky sound of her voice slipped away, it was quite clear.

"I must say Harry; I'm surprised you let this out of your sight for a second, in your situation you can't afford to be apart from it."

His mouth fell open and he shut his eyes for a few seconds, but when he opened them again there was no difference to the scene.

"I can tell by the completely astonished look on your face that you understand my meaning, yes Harry; I a witch. Now, get back on that sofa."

Harry took his wand from her, stumbled back into the living room and all but fell onto the sofa. Mrs. Figg followed him in.

"I know you want an explanation, Harry. Merlin knows you deserve it."

She sat down on her armchair, and tucked her feet beneath her, staring into space for a few minutes, occasionally taking a sip from her tea.

Harry started to get impatient and fidgeted nervously, he was about to say something but she broke the silence for him.

"I suppose you should really meet me for who I am if you're going to understand this."

She stood once more, and pulled her wand…Harry swallowed hard at the sight of it…from a pocket that seemed way too small for what it held. She then turned it on herself and said loudly:

"Acclaro!"

The light around her shimmered for a few seconds, then starting from her feet, her body began to change.

The skinny short legs became longer and shapelier, her waist got smaller, the back straightened, her wrinkly hands smoothed out, as did her fingers - then her face started to transform.

The thinned, pale lips became fuller and red, her cheeks lost the wrinkles and the lines around her eyes became less obvious. Her nose became smaller and slightly up turned at the end, the grey hair that was tied up in a bun at the back of her head fell out, and short, dark blond, curly hair fell onto her shoulders. The only things that did not change were her eyes; they remained the soft brown that they had been before.

Her clothes had also changed. She had been wearing a long flowery dress, with a blue cardigan, but now she wore a pair of jeans and a baggy white T-shirt with a picture of a scruffy black dog on the front.

Harry stared. And stared… and stared. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates and he could feel his mouth hanging open.

"Harry, I'm still Mrs. Figg, well, technically I'm Miss. Figg, but I'm still the same person."

Harry stared.

Her voice had also changed, the old, creaky, kind voice it once was, was now clear, light and soft.

"Can you please tell me what is going on?" asked Harry faintly.

"Of course, but Harry please do sit back, your making me nervous."

He knew that a revelation like the one that had just unfolded was worthy of a long explanation, so he sat back and let the fire warm him.

. . . . . . . . x. . . . . . . .

"It all began when I was seven years old; when I first met your mother. She loved horse riding and that's how I first came to meet her. When I arrived at the stables, I was a complete novice, but your mother saw this and took me under her wing. She was only seven, bless her, but could ride very well. By the time she was ten, she had her own horse…Pilgrim, she called him, he was only young.

"We received our Hogwarts letters when she was at my house; we were both ecstatic about it, naturally. But when we got onto platform 9 ¾ we were absolutely terrifed! We got through it though and we were best friends throughout Hogwarts. Your mother and father didn't get along at first…well, alright…that's to put it mildly. Don't look at me like that Harry, they did of course eventually see the good in each other, and they fell deeply in love. When we graduated, your father and Sirius became Aurors.

"They married when they were 20, and had you a year later. Remember Harry; the time you were born was the time of Voldemort's 'reign of terror'. I was at the hospital when you were born, you were 2 weeks early, gave us all a bit of a shock. One minute we were all having dinner, the next, your mother was crying out that her waters had broke. Oh, James and Sirius' faces, if the time weren't so serious I would have been on the floor laughing. They both looked completely horrified, started running about like headless chickens. They were so enormously proud when you were born, Harry, you were such a beautiful baby. Well, you know what happened a year later, Voldemort fell and you were sent to your aunt and uncles."

"I was devastated when they died, devastated, and it got worse when Peter got killed by Black and he was sent to Azkaban…"

She went quiet for at least five minutes, staring into the crackling fire, the orange glow of it lit up her pale and dejected features. As for Harry, he let this new information sink in, Miss. Figg was his mother's best friend, she was the one who knew more about her than any one else. She obviously didn't know about Sirius' innocence, and Harry felt a stab of resentment towards Dumbledore, why had he never told her the truth?

"Miss. Figg?" he whispered.

She turned around and looked at Harry, seeming to have forgotten where she was and that she had company.

"Please Harry, call me Bella."

He nodded.

"Sorry. So, um, after Black got sent to Azkaban, I ran away to the muggle world for a while; I had to get away from everything. After that while I was called on by Professor Dumbledore, he had a request for me, a special request. You see Harry, when you were taken to your aunt's, you had to be completely cut off from the wizarding world and if I had gone to try and see you, Petunia would have recognised me immediately as her sister's best friend.

"The Headmaster requested that I disguise myself and move into a house near where you lived, so I could see you. That was not the only reason I was sent here though, I'm sure you have realised. I have been here, your whole life, watching over you, there are wards around your house that will alert me when anyone who wishes to harm you enters it. Every time your Aunt requested that I look after you, I was over the moon, but the only problem was I could not be myself around you, I had to keep my old, eccentric woman person about you. But Harry, there were so many times I just wanted to pick you up and cuddle you, you reminded me of happy times with both your parents, and I thank you for that."

She went silent. Harry knew that it was painful for her to talk about his parents' death to him, he was glad he had offered her comfort, even if he had not known he was doing so.

"Miss…I mean, Bella, do you know what happened last night?"

"I wasn't going to ask you about that, it seemed as though you didn't want to talk about it. You must have been angry though, to do that to that poor tree, you do realise that you performed magic outside school, don't you?"

Harry choked on the cocoa he was sipping and after a short coughing fit, he looked at Bella in a panic.

"I forgot! Will I be expelled?! Has a letter come?! What--"

"Harry, it's ok, I sent an owl to the Headmaster as soon as I realised you had left the house, and I talked to him earlier about the state I found you in. He's not going to expel you and I'm sure he'll sort things out with the ministry if they get wind of it, but he does want to talk to you when you feel better."

He slumped back in relief.

What should I do about my aunt and uncle? They're probably wondering why I'm not doing the chor – why I'm not in my room."

"Well, I suppose we could always try and convince them to let you stay here for the rest of the holidays, only if you want to of course?"

Harry's whole face lit up, finally, he could find out all about his parents. It would be the equivalent to spending the summer with Sirius.

"I'd love to."

He was not entirely confident in his aunt and uncles ability to do anything decent for him though…but, then again, they may think spending the summer with an eccentric old woman would not be good for him

There is some hope, he thought sarcastically.

Bella got up and walked into the kitchen, then came back out with two mugs.

"Here, drink this, it's a healing potion, it'll give you an energy boost to go over and see your aunt."

It tasted just like cocoa. "Is this what you gave me earlier?"

"What? Oh, yes, a combination of chocolate and healing potion will always make someone feel better."

She still had that other mug in her hand, she held her nose and threw the whole lot back in one, grimacing as she did so.

Once again she began to transform, but the other way round.

A few seconds later, there stood old Mrs. Figg.

"Can't you just---?"

"Do the spell again?" she finished for him, "I could, but ageing is more painful than becoming young again"

Harry's legs felt stronger, so he got off the sofa carefully, pins and needles took swamped his legs and feet, but he ignored it and concentrated on walking.

"All right Harry, ready to go?"

They walked down the road towards Number 4 Privet Drive, he saw the gutter that Pettigrew had ran down and felt a flare inside him again, then he saw the tree that he had wrecked. Bella must have fixed it; it stood there as normal as it always had done.

Bella, or Mrs. Figg, rang the doorbell to his aunt's house and his Uncle soon answered, Petunia was most probably out shopping with Dudley, as his uncle could never be bothered to move to open the door if Harry's aunt was on hand.

"BOY?! Where have you been?! You're supposed to be-- "

He noticed Mrs. Figg.

"Err, Harry, get in the house and go up to your room, you know your not allowed to go wandering at night," his voice lowered and he tried to sound almost…concerned.

Bella spoke up, using the most worn, ailing voice she could muster.

"Excuse me, Mr. Dursley, it is my fault, I fell over just up the road here, Harry saw me and helped me back to my house, and he very kindly looked after me. The thing is, I have not been feeling at all well recently, and Harry would be a great help to me, would you allow him to stay at my house for a few weeks?"

Harry knew it was a long shot, but his Uncle seemed to be thinking it over, he could let Harry go and be rid of his abnormality, but, if he did let him go, Mrs. Figg might find out about his abnormality then the whole street would know.

The latter won.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Figg, you don't want Harry looking after you, he's not much help. You know what these teenagers are like; completely selfish and arrogant, no, I'll send Dudley round for you every day, to see how you're feeling."

By the sound of his voice, anyone could tell that he really couldn't care less about the old lady's health.

Vernon closed the door in her face.

He turned on Harry, his face bright purple, his little eyes bulging and furious - he looked like a tomato.

"What do you think you were doing, you stupid, stupid boy?!" he said in a low hiss, he seemed too angry to even shout.

"Helping a sick old woman back to her house," Harry returned, he felt dismayed that the man in front of him could show such little concern for an old lady's health, and with that, he had the gall to slam the door in her face.

Vernon looked livid, "How dare you talk back to me?! You will never, ever go back outside for the rest of your time here, now go and do your chores, NOW!"

"I want to stay with Mrs. Figg," he was really pushing his luck now.

"TOUGH!!" his uncle roared.

"I want to stay with Mrs. Figg," he repeated – a vein started throbbing in Vernon's neck and forehead.

Vernon grabbed the front of his collar roughly and shoved him against the wall.

He put his face very close to his: his breath reeked of alcohol.

"Get back up to your room this second, there will be no meals for-for two weeks and you will do double your chores every day."

"Let. Go." Harry hissed through clenched teeth.

Vernon pushed him back again, his back banging painfully against the wall behind him.

"And you will respect me and my family, you should be grateful your parents are dead, the worthless pieces of filth wouldn't be able to give you half as good a life as you have here. That mother of yours was a filthy slag and your father--"

Even though Harry was physically weak and had had little food, at that moment he was able to throw off Vernon and punch him hard in the eye. His uncle bounced off the opposite wall and came right back at Harry, he pulled back his arm and attempted to punch him in the stomach; the alcohol won over and is fist rammed into the wall instead.

"AARGGHH," roared Vernon, he had got a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror and seen the beginnings of an angry red bruise.

His uncle managed to hit him across the head with the back of his hand; Harry reached for his wand desperately as Vernon raised his fist again, but when he looked up, his uncle was on the floor.

Confused, Harry looked around, the front door was open and Mrs. Figg was standing in the doorway, her wand pointed at the figure of his uncle on the ground.

She walked into the house, her wand still directed carefully on Vernon.

"Harry," her voice was tight with suppressed fury, "…go upstairs and get your things, everything."

He stepped over his uncle, tentatively touching his aching head, and climbed up the stairs.

As quickly as he could, he grabbed his birthday presents, Hedwig's cage and all his things, took one last look at the room he hated more than any other, and slammed the door shut. A feeling of a weight being lifted from his stomach took him as he heard the bedroom door click shut, not to be open for another year.

Walking down the stairs, a sight that he would savour forever greeted him. Bella, back to her original form, was standing over his now very awake uncle, with her wand pointed at his heart, and was telling him just what she thought of him.

Harry's foot creaking on the stairs got her attention and she looked up to grin at him. She then muttered something under her breath and his uncle transformed into a big, fat slug.

Harry guffawed. It was one of the most satisfying things he had ever seen, aside from the Malfoy-ferret incident.

"Well, that's something I've been wanting to do for 14 years, I'm glad I got that off my chest."

"Won't you get I trouble?" Harry asked, he couldn't help but hide his smirk, seeing his uncle slithering on the floor.

"It only lasts for about a hour, and it's not a pain inflicting hex, so it would probably just be a small fine, I think it's worth it though, don't you?"

"Oh yes."

. . . . . . . . X. . . . . . . .

Once they had got back to Bella's house, and Harry had put his things in his new room, they sat in the living room and Bella saw to Harry's injuries.

She once again sat in her armchair, Harry lying on the sofa. The only sound was the crackling fire, and Bianca's purrs as he scratched her soft ears.

"Has he ever done that before, hit you?" Bella asked suddenly.

"No. He shouts a lot, but he's never done anything like that before, I suppose I did provoke him, but he was insulting my parents again, he crossed the line."

"What, like your Aunt Marge did?"

Harry groaned, "Does the whole world know about that? I swear I'll never live that down."

She smiled, "No, you probably won't; any way, if she was insulting Lily and James, then she did deserve it."

They fell into silence, both staring at the fire. Harry watched the flames beat and lick at the logs, the yellow glow made the room seem more homely, a little like being back in the Gryffindor common room. He turned to watch Bella gazing into the fire. The soft light showed the smoothness of her face, and Harry tried to imagine her his age.

"Could you tell me about my parents?"

She looked at him and the sadness came back into her eyes, but it did not show in her voice.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything, I just want to know what they were like, I've never been told that much."

She thought for a few minutes before answering him.

"Your mother was the greatest person I ever knew, she was beautiful, kind, considerate, she had a wonderful, powerful presence…every one loved her. She did have one fiery temper on her, though; most of the boys at Hogwarts were too terrified of her to ask her out! That's why she and James didn't get on at first; they both had so much in common, but they didn't know that until later.

"She was very intelligent too, her and your father. They were always battling with each other to stay at the top of the class, she would be furious if James beat her at something, which tended to be Transfiguration, he was very good at that. I remember her saying to me once, "How does he manage to stay at the top, he never revises, he's always pulling pranks, he revises five minutes before a test or exam and he does his homework at the breakfast table!?" But I think them being Head Boy and Girl brought them together; they had to spend a lot of time together.

"Your father…well, Black would probably be able to tell you more about him than me, they had known each other since they were three. But, he was a great, great man, and a very powerful wizard too. Him and his friends had a group called the Marauders, they were the most popular boys in the school, they were handsome, intelligent, kind and above all – bad. Everyone likes a bad boy," she smiled wistfully, "James was a real joker, always playing well-deserved pranks on the Slytherin's. But when he left school, everything became deadly serious.

"Lord Voldemort killed his parents, your grandparents, in his fifth year, and he wanted revenge. James and Sirius became Aurors and saved many lives, caught many Death Eaters. But, of course Sirius wasn't a true Auror, he was a – well you know what I mean. Both your parents were well loved, Harry, by everyone who got the pleasure of meeting them. They were completely devoted to each other, and you."

When she had finished, Harry smiled and took a few moments to absorb every word she had said, creating a mental image of the parents he never had.

"I think," said a voice from the fireplace, "that now would be a good time for me to have a word with young Mr. Potter."