Chapter 14

The sun was a dying, orange semi-circle as it sank slowly into the horizon, turning the sea a deep shade of indigo. Darkness would soon be upon us. A glance over my shoulder told me I was the last one to return home, as I swooped low and landed, causing some yearlings to flutter out of my way to avoid being squashed. I stalked to my usual sleeping spot and fell asleep to the sound of human weeping.

I shot upright, panting, drenched in a cold sweat. Only a nightmare, I told myself, just a bad dream. Or was it? A plan started to form in my mind as I took in the sight of Professor Flip's sitting room. Empty bottles of Firewhiskey cluttered the floor and half eaten packets of Chocolate Frogs were scattered around the room. Hedgely had taken the information I had found in Professor Flip's file surprisingly well and we had spent the rest of the night celebrating our narrow escape from the Ministry. I had eventually fallen asleep in a reclining armchair, while Hedgely lay sprawled on the sofa, his mouth hanging open.

"Hedgely," I called, "Hedgely!"

When he remained unresponsive, I dug out a pillow from behind my head and threw it at him. He jerked awake with a start.

"Dudley! What did you do that for? I almost had a heart attack!"

"I have an idea," I took a deep breath; "I think I know how we can defeat the invisibilis monstrum."

Hedgely's eyes widened and he sat up straight, his face lost all trace of humour and became serious.

"Well, I had another nightmare," I explained, "but, from it, I think that all of the monsters return to that island by sunset. So at night, they're all there, in one place, sound asleep..."

Hedgely gasped.

"Are you suggesting we murder them while they're vulnerable?"

I paused.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Hedgely grinned.

"Dudley, you're an evil genius! Do you know how many are on the island? I didn't get a chance to look the last time I was there and had to flee for my life."

"Quite a lot. More than a hundred, but less than two hundred, I would say."

Hedgely frowned.

"Oh. That's more than I expected. For this to work we're going to need back-up, but everybody is already preoccupied with Death Eaters and the Dark Lord..."

Silence hung in the air like a bad smell, as we both struggled to find a solution to our seemingly unsolvable problem.

"Hedgely," I said after a lengthy thought process.

"Dudley."

"How do you feel about teaching?"

"What do you mean?"

"What would you say about teaching Squibs how to kill invisible monsters?"

Hedgely blinked.

"You mean, like, build a Squib army?"

"Yes, I suppose so. Is it possible?"

"I think so. We'll need a plan, a well thought out strategy. And we'd need Squibs to agree to fight with us."

Hedgely left the room and returned with a bulging, spiral-bound address book. After flicking through it, he said,

"Professor Flip knew lots of people. Hopefully they are all still live at these addresses, so I can visit and ask them for help."

"Can't Squids use the Floo network?" I asked.

"Yes," Hedgely replied, "but I think asking them to risk their lives fighting monsters calls for a face to face chat, don't you?"

"Fair enough."

I spent the next half hour pacing around the room like a caged animal, desperate to get going and do something, while Hedgely compiled a list of Squib names and addresses on a separate sheet of paper so he didn't have to haul a book around all day.

"Right," he said, eons later, "I think we're ready to go!"

"What shall I do while you're describing the honour and glory of monster slaying?"

"Well," Hedgely looked sheepish, "there's someone I want you to talk to. On your own."

I raised my eyebrows.

"I don't think anyone will want to talk to me, I'm a Muggle, remember? I don't know anything about magic; I'm not exactly qualified to ask them to sacrifice their lives for it."

"Oh, I think this particular person would rather speak with you than with me."

"Who is this idiot?"

Hedgely unfolded the list and read,

"Arabella Figg of Little Whinging, Surrey."

My jaw hit the floor.

"Mrs Figg? My neighbour Mrs Figg? Mrs Figg, whom I have known for seventeen years and has always appeared normal, if you overlook her obsession with cats and inability to buy proper shoes, is a Squib?"

"Yes."

"And you want me to ask her to come and fight with us?"

"Yes."

"Even though she's like eighty and doesn't have magic?"

"She just turned fifty-four, and nobody else, except me, will have magic either."

I was still protesting about recruiting poor old Mrs Figg when the tug of Disapparation shut me up. When we arrived in Little Whinging the first thing I noticed was how out of place Hedgely, in his crumpled robes he had worn yesterday, looked among the identical houses and perfectly clipped lawns. I then remembered that I was still wearing his old robes, which meant I probably looked equally out of place in my home town, where I had lived my entire life, up until I was uprooted by wizards.

"I'll come back for you later!"

Hedgely waved at me as he disappeared again. I stood at the bottom of Mrs Figg's worn tarmac driveway, steeling myself to go and bang the cat head knocker.

One, two, three, go!

I forced my leaden legs into action, moving forwards at a snail's pace that was faster than I wanted it to be. My hands were shaking so much that when I finally arrived at my destination I could barely knock.

"Dudley!" Mrs Figg exclaimed as she opened the door. I was forced to take a step backwards at the overwhelming smell of cabbage that wafted over the threshold.

"Uh, hello, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute?" I mumbled.

"Of course," Mrs Figg smiled, exposing a pair of pearly white dentures, "come in! It isn't often I get a visitor from these parts!"

I wonder why, I thought to myself, as I moved past her into a small hallway and almost tripped over a fat ginger cat that hissed indignantly at me. Mrs Figg closed the door, a barrier between me and fresh air that I sorely missed two seconds into our separation, and ushered me into the living room. I was careful to breathe through my mouth as I entered the living room, where yet another cat sat beside a small girl wearing an ugly tartan dress and knee socks. She was knitting a long puke-coloured scarf that flowed to the floor and coiled around her feet. She looked up, surprised, as I came in.

"This is my granddaughter, Doris!" Mrs Figg cooed, "I'll put the kettle on. Make yourself at home Dudley!"

"I was, um, hoping to speak with you... in private," I said, hoping I didn't sound rude.

"Oh, Doris and I are exactly the same, anything you say to me, you can say to her," Mrs Figg winked at me as she left the room, as if she already knew what I had to ask her. Was that her way of telling me that Doris was a Squib too? I smiled at her as I perched on the edge brown armchair that had springs escaping from the bottom of it. She blinked at me from behind a large pair of glasses that magnified her muddy brown eyes to the size of saucers. Her hair was pulled back in two braids, and tied with ribbons that matched her dress. Her knitting needles clacked together, making me feel even more nervous than I already was.

"That's a nice scarf," I lied, in an attempt to make conversation. Without taking her oversized eyes off me, she set her knitting down on the floor and shoved the cat off the sofa, patting the place it had sat beside her. When I remained unresponsive, the patting became more insistent.

"Oh, you- you want me to sit next to you?" I stammered.

Doris nodded, her plaits bobbing. I didn't want to refuse and upset the granddaughter of the woman from whom I needed a favour, so I obliged and gingerly took the seat beside her, hyperaware that it was warm from where the cat had sat. Doris shuffled closer to me, so that her entire short leg was pressed against my thigh. I could feel my face turning scarlet as she leaned closer, her pointy elbow jabbing into my forearm. I scooted away from her. This was inappropriate. She couldn't have been more than thirteen.

She moved over, closing the distance I had put between us, creepily staring at me the entire time. Where was Mrs Figg when her silent granddaughter was harassing me? How long did it take to make tea?

I leapt off the sofa and moved to stand by the window, hoping that Hedgely had come back early. The door banged open and Mrs Figg came in, carrying just one cup of tea, that was tinged an odd green colour. She sat down in the brown armchair, seemingly unaware that there were no springs left to hold up her weight. Taking a sip of tea, she said,

"Sit on the sofa, Dudley; you look awkward hovering over there."

Something flashed in Doris's eyes.

"Uh, no, I'm fine standing, thanks."

Mrs Figg shrugged.

"Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

I inhaled sharply, and struggled not to gag on the foul smell that neither Mrs Figg nor Doris seemed to notice.

"I don't know where to start..."

"How about at the beginning?" Mrs Figg suggested.

Somehow I managed to stutter out the whole story about seeing the invisibilis monstrum and Professor Flip and our plan to defeat them. I could feel Doris's unwavering stare on me while I talked and made a conscious effort to not look in her direction. When I had finished, Mrs Figg drained her suspicious green concoction and said,

"Of course we'll help you, both of us will!"

"Really?" I was surprised that Mrs Figg was so willing to lay her life on the line, Doris's life I was not so surprised about.

"Of course, we'll do our bit for the war effort. We'll come back to Professor Flip's house with you later."

"That's great!"

I wasn't sure if I should be pleased I had done what I came here to do, or if I was worried about having to spend more time with Doris. I looked out the window again, hoping Hedgely would be there, but the street was empty, apart from a plump woman who was pruning her rose garden.

"I know what to do while we wait!" I turned to find Mrs Figg standing behind me, an enormous photo album under her arm, "We can show you the pictures Doris and I took when we went on a trip to the National Cat Museum!"