Chapter 2: Snow Day Secrets

Winter had come to Little Whinging again. Snow had fallen for the past week, covering the little neighborhood in a blanket of white. Children were perpetually seen with rosy cheeks, runny noses, and bright smiles; they hadn't wasted any time to take advantage of the snow.

Tamisin had now been at Mrs. Figg's for a little over two years. She couldn't really believe it; it was strange to think about being away from the orphanage as long as she had been. It almost felt like she'd lived at Mrs. Figg's her entire life, as if she were made to live there.

The cats were the same as they always had been. Mrs. Figg brought home new ones once every month, which kept the two of them busy. A few of the older ones had passed on periodically, but Mrs. Figg assured Tamisin that it was their time. Still, it was hard to say goodbye; an old gray one called Victoria had been one of Tamisin's closest tea companions.

It also brought back the old fear of Mrs. Figg growing older. Although she had to be in her late sixties, and she was very healthy, Tamisin couldn't shake the awful feeling she had sometimes when she saw Mrs. Figg hobble along with her cane or slip slightly on a patch of ice. It was hard to think about.

Tamisin had been growing, according to her last appointment at the doctor. She had gained a full three inches, but her feet refused to grow along with her. The doctor had said that Tamisin had the smallest feet she'd ever seen, and that, at this rate, they weren't very likely to grow any bigger. Tamisin flushed at this; she could add that to the ever-growing list of why Dudley Dursley liked to pick on her.

She still hadn't made a single friend besides Harry. Dudley had made it clear early on that if you were friends with Harry, you were an outcast. But at this point, Tamisin didn't care if she didn't have any other friends. Harry was enough.

The two seven-year-olds found themselves in Tamisin's front yard, playing hide-and-seek with some of the younger cats. They loved to burrow into the snow banks, and then pop out like kangaroos; Tamisin still marveled at how they could stand being surrounded by so much cold.

"Gotcha!" Harry cried, catching a tabby as he sailed through the air. The two plopped back into the snow, scattering it above them. Tamisin giggled, watching the tiny flakes sparkle as they slowly floated back to the ground.

"I always like to think that the snow is magical," she suddenly said, "especially at night. It looks so pretty…it's almost as if we're in the middle of a fairy tale."

Harry looked at her, fascinated. "How can you gather all that from something as normal as snow?"

Tamisin shrugged. "The Brothers Grimm are like friends to me. I guess I tend to see things as prettier than they really are."

"No." Harry picked up a pile of snow in his mittened hand, studying the clean, dusty pile carefully. "You're right. Snow is like magic." He tossed it in the air, letting it gently fall around them.

"Do you ever think about your parents, Harry?" Tamisin asked suddenly.

Harry's eyes hardened behind his foggy glasses. "I think I do. It must be when I'm asleep…I don't remember what they look like."

"Oh."

"Why?"

Tamisin busied herself pulling up a cat from the snow. "No reason."

"Well, do you ever think about your parents?"

Tamisin nodded. "Yes. Sometimes. Miss Sayers, from the orphanage, told me my father left my mother when I was only a year old. He never said why or anything. He just left one day. And my mother couldn't take care of me."

"Do you think they're still alive?"

"I don't know." Tamisin looked at Harry. "Can you keep a secret?"

Harry nodded.

"Sometimes…sometimes I wish they really were dead." She looked down at her boots, ashamed.

Harry gasped. "Why?"

"I don't know! I think I do because then I wouldn't have to think about them anymore. And now I feel rotten for saying that to you."

They stood in silence, the cats sitting at their feet, waiting patiently for them to continue the game.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Tamisin whispered.

"It's okay," Harry said.

Another silence washed over them.

"Do you still…do things?" Harry asked after a moment.

Tamisin nodded. "You?"

"Yes. I'm trying not to do it on purpose, though. It really scares me if I do."

"Me, too."

"Do you think we should tell someone?"

Tamisin shrugged. "I've thought about telling Mrs. Figg, but…I'm afraid she'll say I have a disease."

"If we do, then I can't tell my aunt and uncle," Harry said, his eyes widening. "That would give them an excuse to lock me away in a hospital. Wait…maybe that's not a bad idea…"

That set them off in a fit of giggles. Their game shortly resumed, but Tamisin's mind was still on the conversation. It wasn't going to help if she and Harry kept this to themselves, and her parents weren't going to help her much.

She finally decided that tonight would be the night to talk to Mrs. Figg.

"Mrs. Figg?" Tamisin asked later that night over her mashed potatoes.

"Yes, Tamisin?"

"Can we adopt Harry?"

Mrs. Figg began to laugh. It was a nice sort of laugh, creaky yet full of life. "Oh, no, my dear. I don't think we could fit another child in this house."

"But he hates it at the Dursley's," Tamisin argued. "They're terrible to him."

"I know they are, but they're his family. We can't march over to Privet Drive and take him to live with us."

"Why not?"

Mrs. Figg gave Tamisin a sad smile. "Well, we would have to get the court involved, and I'm sure that no one would want that."

"I guess not."

"Trust me, my dear, if I had it my way, I would take Harry in, but as it stands, I'm unable to."

"But he told me that maybe it would be better to live here," Tamisin continued, bracing herself for the thing she was about to say.

"And why is that?"

"Because we're both sick."

"Sick?" Mrs. Figg asked, concerned. "Miss Sayers told me you had the chicken pox when you were four. And you've just gotten over a cold. How can you be sick?"

"It's a special kind of sickness," Tamisin said quietly. "Harry and I…make things happen."

Mrs. Figg grew silent. Tamisin took this as her cue to go on.

"When the Dursley's first came over, and the curtain rod fell on them…I think that was me. I wanted something to fall on them, because they were being so rude. And then it just happened. And Harry told me he can do similar things, too. And...we don't try to do it, but it just keeps happening. We're really scared. Are we sick?"

Mrs. Figg simply stared at Tamisin before breaking out into a smile. "Sick? My dear, you're far from sick! Oh, this is wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!" She got up from the table, picked up the nearest cat – an orange tabby named Jonathon – and began waltzing around the kitchen with him. Jonathon looked extremely displeased with this.

"Mrs. Figg? Why are you—"

"Oh, Tamisin! Do you know what this means?"

"No."

And, before Tamisin knew it, Mrs. Figg said six simple words that changed her life forever:

"Tamisin, my dear, you're a witch!"