Disclaimer: Nope, still not owning it. Gee, thanks for reminding me!

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Author's Notes: As I promised, I'm posting two chapters this week. This one posted today and the next one will be posted tomorrow. Last week was a very stressful week. The flu was traveling around the school while auditions for the musical took place. Swimming is still wrapping up and our show choir show is approaching.

I took a class A piece to Solo and Ensemble (music competition) and got a I. It's ranked one to five, one being the best and five being the worst. I was really proud of my score; the class A pieces are rather hard. I also accompanied my friend Laura on her violin solo. She would have gotten a I but she forgot to number the measure her music score for the judges so she got a two (so unfair). Laura, Gary, and I also played in a violin trio and got a I (it was the most ugly Haydn song in existence. I want to gag every time we play it).

Sectionals were this past Saturday and I qualified for the 200 freestyle for districts : ) I was just a little upset because I just missed the qualifying cut for the 100 Breastroke. Oh well, I have two more years of high school swimming to make it. The top 32 from all sectionals go to districts and then the top 24 from the three districts in the state go on to states.

Parts for the musical won't be posted until February 25 at the earliest. I only tried out for the chorus or for some dancing role. This is my first year of theatre, I've done backstage work and played piano in the pit before but I always wanted to perform on the stage.

I actually got time to type up two chapters due to the snow. We had a two hour delay Tuesday and no school today. Yay! So, here it is….

Last Time: Harry recalls how much he hated school now that his classmates blamed him for causing Danielle to leave school and for freeing the class pets from their cage. Poor Harry!

Onto the Story…!

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Chapter Seven: Mrs. Figg

Christmas time is supposed to be the very best time of year, correct?

Surrey wasn't one of the places that received feet of snow every winter. It normally snowed just enough to cover the tall tips of the now dead looking brownish grass.

On this year's Christmas day, however, a good six to eight inches packed the ground and the roads, resulting in school delays and closings. All school children were ecstatic to miss school and spend all day outside building snow men and sledding with their friends.

Harry really didn't know what he liked more, spending a day with the apathetic Dursleys or with his hateful filled classroom.

It's been well over two months since the picnic day disaster and still no one had forgiven Harry. He was hoping that someone would start talking to him sometime by now. If only they all knew how much it hurt to be picked last for teams on kickball.

FT was the first person who Harry expected to forgive him. They had a lot in common actually. Dudley was a common enemy and a boogeyman to both. Instead, the sandy-haired boy avoided Harry just as much as Dudley, as if expecting the small boy to push his head into the sandbox.

Carol and Che would have forgiven him easily, being girls and all. But they were good friends with Danielle still hated Harry for what he's done.

Frank often expressed his feeling for Harry with his fists. He was always the kid who acted tough, but was made of marshmallow. But even marshmallows can hurt someone as tiny and underweight as Harry.

Mark, the closest guy he had to a friend, treated Harry just like everyone else. Only, he had tried once or twice to offer his licorice sticks to Harry at lunch, only to stop due to everyone else's traitorous glares.

Nina, the quieter of the girls, hasn't said anything to Harry since. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Uncle Vernon had offered Ms. McKenna to buy the class a new pet at his expense. Upon telling the class, rumors of what type of animal spread like wildfire. Scott didn't stop telling other classmates on the playground that Mr. Dursley was going to buy them a string ray.

"Who wants a sting ray anyways?" asked a short blonde girl from the class next door. "What if they sting you? Would you die?"

"Of course not!" Scott exclaimed. "Only fish like jelly fish sting you."

"No they don't!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

Scott wasn't the only kid who imagined an exotic pet inhabiting their classroom. Nina of all people was the one who was so convinced that Mr. Dursley was going to buy a monkey that she got her mother to buy some bananas at the store and packed them in her lunch.

Dudley was the only kid on the block who really knew what his father was planning on buying, and he wasn't telling. Half of the recess time was spent with kids trying to get the oversized blimp-like kid to spill. Frank even offered his chocolate pudding snack at lunch. Dudley still wouldn't tell anyone, enjoying all the attention. Harry did notice him eyeing Frank's pudding snacks at lunch the next day though.

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. A new routine took over Harry's life as he went to school and came back with the same amount of detest.

It was the last of day of school before winter break when something out of the ordinary took place, much to the annoyance to those in Little Whinging.

Harry was walking back home from school like he did everyday. What was different was when he got to Number Four, he didn't Uncle Vernon's mini van parked in the drive like it always does.

'I didn't beat them home, did I?' was what Harry thought at first. He looked up and down the street for any sign of the blue car. He then walked down to the end of the block and looked down the next street, Wisteria Walk, when he spotted it.

Uncle Vernon's mini van was parked sideways. The back bumper was sticking out in the street while the front looked smaller, as if squished.

And squished it was indeed. The front bumper of the bar was crunched and dented. Next to the slightly demolished car was a mailbox. But instead of it being perpendicular to the ground, it was lying face down in the snow.

Wondering what happened, Harry's slow trot towards the car soon turned into a fast sprint as he ran off to find Uncle Vernon and Dudley. Images of a bloodied Dudley with his arm twisted funnily and an unmoving Uncle Vernon unnerved him.

But instead, he found the two standing at the porch of the house who owned the once wholesome mailbox. Uncle Vernon's hat was in his hands while he twisted it round and round as he discussed matters with the person at the door. Dudley looked bored as he sat on the front steps, drawing figures in the snow.

"-terribly sorry… you see, Dudders and I were just on our way home from school when we drove over an icy part of the road. I sort of lost control of the car and we swerved right into your mailbox…" Harry heard Uncle Vernon explain to the person at the door.

"It was a really frightening experience, wasn't it son?" Dudley turned around upon hearing his name, putting on a dramatic face.

"I-It was so unreal," he exhaustingly, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. "I thought we were goners! I thought I was gonna die…!"

"Oh you poor little dear," came the soft voice of the woman at the door. She held out her arms to him as his took his cue and ran into her embrace, heaving fake sobs of fear.

"I'll, of course, take care of the charges and damage," Uncle Vernon continued very businesslike. "I'll make sure you'll get a new mailbox and-"

"Oh no, deary," the older woman said. "It was an accident. You will already have to pay lots to fix the car. I can manage the mailbox; I don't receive mail through it much anyways…."

"no really, I must concur…"

"Don't worry about it, Vernon," she told him. "Just get Dustin-"

"Dudley," Dudley interjected automatically before continuing to bawl into the elder woman's apron.

"-Dudley home safely," she corrected. "I still think he looks a little peaky."

It was then when the woman noticed Harry at the end of the walkway. "Why hello there!"

Harry stiffened as he joined his uncle and cousin at the doorstep. The older woman was quite a sight to see, with her tartan carpet slippers and checkered apron. Through the slightly opened door, Harry could smell the odor of cat litter.

"There's no need to be shy, Harry," she said gently. "I'm Mrs. Figg. Were you also in the car with your cousin?"

Before Harry opened his mouth to say no, Uncle Vernon stuttered out, "yes, of course he was, he just was too shy to- to- to come up to the house with us." He looked awfully flustered. Uncle Vernon hated it when people noticed the unfair treatment he has for the two boys.

"He screamed like a girl," Dudley added with a malicious grin before burrowing his face back into Mrs. Figg's apron, his shoulders heaving.

"I'm sure Harry wasn't the only one scared, Dewey-"

"Dudley!"

"-Dudley," she corrected again with a sigh. "I'm just glad you're all alright."

"Then I think it's about time we headed home," Uncle Vernon said hastily, checking his watch. "How's that sound, boys?" He asked uncharacteristically.

"Yay!" Dudley cheered as he let go of Mrs. Figg and tore off towards the car. Harry started after him, looking back every couple steps as if wondering if Uncle Vernon would stop him before he got any closer to his now wrecked car.

"At least let me dispose the mail box for you," Uncle Vernon offered politely, placing his hat back onto his fat head. "It's the least I can do."

"That would be lovely, Vernon," Mrs. Figg said. "What two lovely boys you have. If you ever need a babysitter, I'm more than happy to help."

"Are you?" Uncle Vernon asked. "Why, thank you, I'll give you a call sometime then, good day."

"Take care," Mrs. Figg said before closing the door, muttering words to herself under her breath.

Uncle Vernon loaded the mailbox into the back compartment of the van before carefully backing out and heading home. Dudley was very pleased with himself, catching the old lady's affections to avoid trouble; he's his father's son alright. Harry was just confused altogether. Who was Mrs. Figg and how did she know his name?

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Harry was dreaming.

It was Christmas day and he was sitting in his mother's lap with she rocked in the rocking chair. A magnificent tree was illuminated in front of them while presents littered the floor before it.

"Harry first Christmas, Harry," came his mother's soothing voice as she ran a hand through his baby thin black hair.

Harry tried to crawl out of his mother's grasp and toward the stack of presents, mostly for him. He was within reach of pulling off one of its ribbons when a set of hands picked him up.

"Not until everyone's here, love," his mother cooed, as she carried him back to the rocking chair.

"Anxious, isn't he?" came the laughing voice of a dark haired male entered. He had on a red sweater with a print of an animal on it. It looked much like a reindeer.

"Not until everyone's here," his mother repeated, this time scolding her husband.

"Aw, where's the fun in that?" the male replied as if scooped Harry up with one arm and swung him around. "How's my little man today?"

"Almost five months old and I could have sworn he was crawling the other day," his mother stated proudly. His father held him close, their noses almost touching.

"That's my boy," he smiled before swinging Harry around like a plane, much to the boys delight.

"Maybe this time next year, I'll be teaching you how to fly. How's that sound, Harry?" His mother cleared her throat.

"You can't be serious, dear-"

"She's right, you can't, because I'm Sirius," came a new voice of a handsome man in the door way. "Happy Christmas everyone! Is that my little Pronglet?" He asked, his eyes spotting Harry.

His father put him down to allow Harry crawl over to the dark haired man's feet, soon to be picked up.

"Whoa, he's huge! What have you been feeding h-hi-h-A-Choo" he sneezed loudly into his elbow.

"You're not sick, are you?" Harry's mother asked.

"Either that or I'm allergic to your kid."

"It's nothing too serious, is it?" Harry's mum asked, returning to mother-mode. The handsome man opened his mouth to reply- "and don't say anything funny that has to do with your name. Do you have any clue how old those jokes are?"

"Gosh, I love you too, Lils," the man exclaimed, "and no, it's nothing –serious!" He giggled to himself for a moment while the woman before him rolled her eyes. "Just the sniff-sniff-ahs-A-CHOO!" He sneezed again. "The snuffles."

"Don't you mean sniffles?" Harry's father asked.

"That's what I said."

"If you say so," Harry's dad teased slightly.

"Hello? Is anyone home" came another new voice. A ragged man came into the room, polite enough to remove his coat and shoes. His face was still young, yet slightly scarred. His light brown hair was dull and slightly grey at the roots.

"Moony! Moony, good boy, it's been too long," Harry's father exclaimed as he approached his long term friend to shake his hand, but deciding to give him a hug instead. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah," the slightly graying man said exhaustingly. "I know the full moon was just two nights ago but I wouldn't miss this for the world. Harry's first Christmas… wow, how time flies…."

"Have you heard anything from Peter later," Harry's mother asked. The man shook his head.

"Last time I owled him, he said his mother is really sick and needs care, but that was a week ago." Moony looked up at everyone nervously. "You don't think-?"

"I'm sure Pete's fine," the handsome dark haired man exclaimed quickly, not wanting to ruin the already happy Christmas spirit. "I wouldn't be surprised if he got lost again on his way here."

A long silence drifted over the group. "Then-then should we start opening gifts?" Harry's mother asked, causing all three men in the room to crack smiles, the awkward pause long forgotten.

"Harry gets to open mine first," the handsome man called out, searching for his gift under the tree. "Now where did I put that thing…?"

"Now, that's no fair, Padfoot," the graying man complained. "You always get to go first."

"Yeah, because I always call dibs first."

"Not on Lily-flower you didn't, Prongs did," Moony explained before clamping his mouth shut with his hand. "Opps!"

"Is that so," came Harry's mother's voice threatening. She sounded menacing, but Harry still can't make out his parents faces.

"Only because I love you the mostest," Harry's father tried to explain quickly. He laughed nervously before sighing and turning to face his wife.

"Mostest isn't a word," she lectured at him, "but I know what you're trying to say. Your head is just to inflated to let it out in actual English." She leaned over to give him a kiss.

"Hey, not in front of the kid you two," Padfoot exclaimed, keeping one hand in front of Harry's face in the other in front of his own eyes. "You can get all smoochy later, but Pronglet here has been waiting, rather patiently if I may add…."

Harry's parents then sat down on the couch in front of the tree to watch their son open his first Christmas gifts. Padfoot sat Harry in his lap while he instructed him how to rip off the paper.

"Just grab the paper here and pull," he said, helping the small boy unwrap the gift. "Quite the fast learner, this one is," he exclaimed after hearing a satisfying rip of wrapping paper.

Under all the tissue paper and ribbons lied a stuffed plush dog, its fur as dark as night. Harry picked it up in his small hands, a wide smile on his face while baby babbling escaped his lips.

"Aw, it's so cute, Paddy, I almost want one," Harry's mother exclaimed excitingly from the couch.

"What are you going to name it?" Moony asked from where he was sitting in the vacant rocking chair.

"How's about Snuffles?" Harry's dad teased.

"Don't make me go over there."

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That was all Harry remembered before he woke up on Christmas day, feeling torn between happiness and sadness. He was glad to dream more of his parents, he had spent the last couple of nights thinking of them and praying of a short chance of seeing them in his dreams. It was saddening at the same time; it depressed it to wake up remembering that they died, that he was stuck at the Dursleys.

As much as he hated it, the Dursleys were his family. Perhaps, they were his only family left. He often had to wonder though, did he have any grandparents out there, any other aunts and uncles that weren't named Vernon and Petunia…?

It took Uncle Vernon a couple of days, but he found a good use for the run over mailbox. For being ramming into by a large mini van, it was surprisingly in tact. He decided to give it to his sister, Aunt Marge, for Christmas for her new summer home she was building. She's been writing more often, telling her brother, sister-in-law, and nephew all about this new dog she got, Ripper or something like that….

As for the car, all that damaged was the front bumper, which was easily covered by insurance. Uncle Vernon's drill company let the family borrow a company car for the time while it was in the shop.

Dudley of course made the small crash sound much worse than it really was. He often teased his cousin on how he managed to survive a dramatic head on collision car crash into a mailbox while Harry's parents died as a result of one. His mocking grin was almost punched off his face by Harry, who was so mad, he couldn't speak. Sadly, Dudley was a lot taller than him and by standing on his tipsy-toes, managed to avoid his cousin's angry fists.

It was times like these in which Harry wished he still had school. At least there, Dudley would be prosecuted when making rude comments like that.

Christmas at the Dursleys could have been mistake as any other day of the year. It's not that they didn't celebrate it or anything. Light fixtures of red and green and a green tree covered in tinsel decorated the sitting room. Christmas lights hugged the outside walls of the house and wreaths and candles could be found in every room. Though the decorations and atmosphere of the house may be different, the Dursleys still treated Harry with as much venom and hatred as they always do.

Some things never change.

Dudley sat at the table, his eyes glued on the television screen in the kitchen while he mindlessly ate away at the rather large portion of blueberry pancakes his mother made for him. Uncle Vernon sat at the table, his morning coffee and yesterdays paper in front of him. It saddened him that there was no paper today. Aunt Petunia worked around in the kitchen a little longer before joining her husband and son at the table.

And poor little Harry stayed in the cupboard like he did practically everyday of break so far.

But the Christmas spirit did seem to soak in through the creaks on the door of the cupboard to him. He would often hum 'Silver Belles' under his breath while he straightened his cupboard up, making his cot and taping his art pictures onto the ceiling so that he could see them when lying down. Also, Aunt Petunia would never see when she woke him up in the morning to make breakfast. He found it rather ingenious.

He had also swapped his long dead light bulb with a bulb from on of the lamps in the living room. Now, he could keep the shadows away from him, he found them rather scary.

The night before, Harry had sneaked out for a food rush only to return with some gram crackers and a small tube of icing he found in the back of the pantry, long forgotten. He spent all of Christmas sitting on his cot, coloring and eating the sweet crackers with frosting, this time not alone, but with Snuffles, his newly named stuffed dog.

Snuffles from his dream and from the actual stuffed dog in front of him are one in the same, no doubt. Apart from his slightly faded blanket, the toy was all he had left to remember his family by, his real family.

After his dream, him mind pondered over the other two men with his parents that Christmas. Were they related to his parents?

'Who are they, and where are they now?' Harry asked himself as he turned the stuffed dog in his hands, inspecting every part of it for a clue, an obvious answer. 'If they knew me now, would they love me still…?' Hot tears threatened to fall out of Harry's eyes while he used the back of his hand to wipe them away roughly.

Late at night, when the house was quiet apart from Dudley's loud snoring, Harry held Snuffles close and gave a small prayer to Father Christmas. He wished that no longer how long it took, he would find someone; some unknown relation who knew his parents and could whisk him away on a giant set of wings, never to return to the Dursleys again.

'Until then,' Harry thought, 'I'll just have to stand the Dursleys. It'll be hard, but I've done it before…' a strong euphoria of courage filled his heart.

"And I can do it again," he whispered triumphantly, his eager eyes landing on Snuffles.

Until then...

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Author's Note: I hope this is a good chapter, I wrote it in about two or so hours after swim practice last night.

As for posting the next couple of chapters, things will soon return to their once a week post. After swimming, it will be a lot easier on me. Only three more weeks until then… Yay!

Things will get better for Harry real soon, you'll see. Then, unfortunately, they will get bad again. But then it will get really good and stay good. : )

At the end of this story, I have a couple ideas for an separate Epilogue for this story. One of them has Harry and Aunt Petunia talking about why things played out the way they did. I may also have one with Harry and Sirius talking about the origin of Snuffles and how he had always dreamed of someone to take him away from the Dursleys. Just ideas right now, but I would love to really add them to the story arc.

I know that this chapter was called Mrs. Figg, but you'll get to see more of her in the next chapter.

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Next Chapter: Summer of 1986: Harry finishes kindergarten and can't wait for the summer. Around the same time as Dudley's sixth birthday, a new kid moves in. He's not much, just some kid named Piers….

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