Disclaimer: Even though it is so obvious that I don't own HP, I must still write this silly thing. Okay...here it goes...I don't own HP! WOW, that was a shocker!
Quote: "When we remember that we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained." Mark Twain, Mark Twain's Notebook, 1935
Chapter 1
A five-year-old little boy with messy black hair was sitting in his room, which happened to be a cupboard under the stairs, and staring at the door with apprehension. His uncle was taking his wife and son on a week- long trip to visit with his sister, and leaving Harry with a neighbor.
This was the first time Harry was to stay with this neighbor, Ms. Figg. He had seen her from a distance and she seemed kinda scary to a five-year-old boy.
His uncle had thrown Harry into his cupboard with instructions to stay there until they were finished packing. Harry had no packing to do since his aunt had already thrown his essentials into a plastic bag that morning after breakfast. So Harry sat perched on the end of his bed and wondered what Ms. Figg would be like.
He was roused unceremoniously from his ponderings by a sharp tap on the door. With trembling hands, he gathered his bag and walked to join his relatives at the front door. His uncle gripped him tightly around his shoulders and brought Harry to his face.
"Look at me boy!" his uncle roared, "I don't what to hear about anything funny happening while you're with Ms. Figg. Any word from her about anything and I'll beat you black and blue and make sure you never leave your cupboard ever again! Do you understand me?"
Harry managed a small nod. His uncle stared at him for a moment before dropping him on the ground.
"Now pick up your bag and follow me," his uncle demanded. Harry grabbed his bag and dashed over to follow behind his long-strided uncle. When they arrived at Ms. Figg's house, Harry had to take deep breaths to calm his rapidly beating heart. He was nervous and out of breathe from their brisk walk.
Uncle Vernon adjusted his tie and knocked very business like on the door. Through the door could be heard the sounds of several cats meowing at their presence. Soon the batty looking women stuck her head out the door.
"Oh, it's you Vernon. And I suppose this must be the orphan." Uncle Vernon smiled at the last comment. He agreed with Petunia that Ms. Figg would do a good job of looking after Harry. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck and dragged him forward.
"Yes, this is him. Petunia and I are greatly in your debt for letting the brat stay with you. Feel free to treat him as we would. We will be back in a week."
And with that, he shoved Harry into the foreign house and left. Harry stayed where he was for a moment and looked around the house. There were cats everywhere! Ms. Figg cleared her throat causing Harry to snap his attention towards his temporary caretaker. She regarded him for a minute while Harry squirmed under her watchful eyes.
"Follow me and I'll show you where you'll be staying for this week." Harry meekly followed her into a small room, which was still bigger than his cupboard, which was sparsely decorated but had a comfy-looking bed.
"You can put your things in those drawers later, but first I suppose I should feed you lunch." With that she walked out of the bedroom. Harry carefully put his bag on the floor, lest she get mad at him for making a mess, and quickly followed the batty old woman. Harry didn't think she was quite as bad as the Dursleys, but he couldn't be sure that she wouldn't turn on him. Deciding to not give her an excuse to turn on him, Harry did everything he was told.
Entering the kitchen, Harry's nose was immediately attacked by the smell of his lunch. He had never smelled anything like it in his five years. Thinking about it he decided that the smell wasn't bad, just different.
Hearing Harry sniff, Ms. Figg turned around and ordered him to sit. Harry immediately sat with all the obedience of a dog. Ms. Figg ladled some of the soup for the boy and then gave herself some. Taking a bite, Harry discovered that it didn't taste to bad and that the horrible aftertaste quickly disappeared. Harry was fast to finish his portion. Noticing this, Ms. Figg grunted but gave him seconds. Harry was a little awed. The Dursleys never let him have seconds. Maybe Ms. Figg wouldn't be so bad after all.
After lunch, Ms. Figg sat on the couch and showed Harry a picture of every cat she had ever owned, which was many. This ritual took a few hours to little Harry's dismay since like every five year old he had a problem with sitting still for that long.
Afterwards, Ms. Figg seemed at a loss as to what to do with this child. At least until she saw his brilliant green eyes flutter and his head start to fall to his chest. "Come on Harry," she told the sleepy child, "You can take a nap while I read my new book."
"I'm not sleepy!" stated Harry as his little fists rubbed his eyes."
"Nonsense," retorted Ms. Figg, "All little boys and girls take naps. Now go to your room."
Harry muttered to himself as he went to his temporary bedroom. "I'll show her. I'll just sit on the bed until she gives up and lets me leave." Satisfied, Harry crawled onto the bed and sat there with his arms crossed. Soon though his head began to feel heavy so he decided to lie across the bed. All to soon, little Harry was fast asleep.
He woke up a few hours later, and for the briefest of moments he had no idea where he was. Recognition came in a rush as he remembered that Ms. Figg was watching him. Not knowing what to do, he got off the bed and looked around for Ms. Figg. He found her in the living room reading a book. Upon hearing Harry enter, she laid down her book and beckoned Harry to come closer.
"Ah, good. I was wondering when you would wake up. Now, Harry, I would like you to work in my garden while I get dinner made. Have you ever weeded before?" Harry sighed but nodded his head. "Good, then I would like my garden weed free by dinner."
Harry left the room with a heavy heart. Maybe Ms. Figg really was as bad as the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia always made him weed the garden. As Harry entered the garden, his heart sank even further. The whole place was covered in weeds. This would take him forever. Blinking rapidly to discourage any tears, he started his looming task. By the time dinner was ready, Harry didn't even feel like he had made a dent in the weeds. With trembling limbs he made his way into the house.
"Ms. F...Figg," he stuttered, "I...I wasn't a...able to ...to finish."
Ms. Figg huffed and walked towards him. Harry cringed expecting to be beaten for his incompetence. Instead she just grabbed his hands and told him to wash before dinner. Again, Harry was left puzzled by this strange turn of events. He didn't know what to expect anymore.
Dinner was just like lunch; strange but good. Actually feeling full, which was a new one for Harry, he curled up against his chair. Noticing this, Ms. Figg looked at him with a strange expression in her eyes.
"Harry, you look tired how about you go on to bed." Harry tried to argue again, but Ms. Figg wouldn't hear it. "Now, Harry." She said in strict voice.
Knowing he had lost the argument before it had even started, he grumbled in protest but made his way slowly into the borrowed bedroom. Snuggling under the blankets, Harry was soon fast asleep.
In the middle of the night, Harry woke to a tummy ache. Clutching his belly, He curled onto his side. After a few moments though, the pain intensified. Knowing that he had to find a bathroom soon, Harry jumped out of bed and ran into the nearest bathroom. Grabbing the toilet, he heaved up the contents of his belly.
A little later he stopped and was able to take a breath. His tiny body started to tremble uncontrollably and tears began to fall down his flushed face. He just sat there crying and feeling miserable as another wave of nausea washed over him. Weakly grabbing the toilet, he again heaved up more of the first good meals he had ever had.
While he was throwing up for the second time, he felt a hand smooth back his trademark messy hair and he heard soft cooing. When he finished he felt the hand draw him into the lap of Ms. Figg.
"You poor boy. My neighbor was just complaining about a stomach virus that was going around, infecting all the neighborhood kids."
Harry just snuggled against the soft body while still trembling, too sick to realize how nice she was being to him. She gently set the boy down again and picked up a rag. While she was wetting it, Harry once again vomited into the toilet. Repeating her performance, she smoothed Harry while he was sick. After he finished, she again drew him beside her and wiped the wet rag across his face.
Feeling his forehead, she was amazed by the heat the boy was radiating. "Harry, dear, does your tummy fell any better?"
The trembling boy slowly shook his head while keeping his eyes shut and still leaning heavily against Ms. Figg.
"Well does it feel good enough to leave the bathroom?" Harry was still for a moment but slowly nodded his head. Gathering Harry into her arms, Ms.Figg slowly stood up and carried Harry out of the bathroom, grabbing the trashcan on her way. She gently laid Harry down on the couch and wrapped the child in a thick blanket. Harry whimpered slightly when he was set down, but for the most part stayed quiet. The only way to tell that he was awake was by the stream of tears that fell from his tightly closed eyes.
Staring at the pitiful creature before her, Ms. Figg felt her heart wrenched out. She knew she was really not to show the boy any kindness, but she just couldn't leave the poor boy. Eventually her heart won out and she cuddled the boy against her and rocked him to sleep.