Oh boy, there was some sudden inspiration for this one, but let's see how it turns out.
Chapter Five:
Mrs. Figg's Worst Nightmare
She loved cats. There was just no other way to describe Mrs. Figg, an elderly squib woman who lived next door to Harry Potter by order of Professor Dumbledore. Of course now Dumbledore was dead (may he rest in peace, mind you!) and Harry Potter was practically a grown man having just defeated You-Know-Who about a month ago. So now she was living a quiet life for the first time in over a decade with little news at all coming from the Wizarding World.
It was on another blessedly silent day when her favorite neighbors, the Dursleys, arrived home from being in hiding for almost a year. After much surprise from the casino they had cleared out the excitement and the mess, and Privet Drive returned to normal. That was until the Dursleys found what was living in the cupboard under the stairs. With a loud scream Mrs. Dursley broadcasted to the entire neighborhood what the issue was. "VERNON! THERE IS A CAT LIVING IN OUR HOUSE UNDER THE STAIRS! OH THE FILTH!"
Mrs. Figg was tending to her garden patch upon this discovery, and as Mr. Dursley was preparing a bucket of water to drown the creature she stopped him from his intended purpose. "Mr. Dursley! Please do not harm that poor creature!"
"Well, what should I do with that-that disgusting little doormat then, Mrs. Figg?! There is no way that thing is living in my house!" sputtered Mr. Dursley.
"Let me take the poor dear! I have plenty of room!" she begged. Well, the last statement was not entirely true…
"Fine! Take it! You can have the decrepit thing!" stated Mr. Dursley seeming glad that he wouldn't have to get his hands dirty. He went into the house and about five minutes later emerged with a scrawny, furless ivory-colored sphinx cat between a set of kitchen tongs. He held the cat out at an arms length and soon she had scooped the cat out of his metal grip and rushed him back inside her house.
She stepped over Mr. Fluffypants lying on the doorstep, under Mr. Pussyboots hanging on a doorframe, around Mr. Bigglesworth sleeping on a knocked over chair, and between Patsy and her eighty-five kittens scattered across the floor. Upon reaching the kitchen she placed the newest addition to her family of felines on the table and preceded to fetch him, for she had discovered the cat was a he, a dish of milk. The cat looked at her in a condescending manner and refused to drink from the dish.
"You're a stubborn fellow, aren't you? Well perhaps that will change after awhile. Right now what you need is a name. How about… Elvendork?" The cat looked utterly horrified, but Mrs. Figg continued. "Yes, Elvendork would suit you just fine. Welcome to the family, Elvendork." Elvendork hissed and marched out of the room.
OoO
Mrs. Figg began to receive some very disturbing news within the next week from the Wizarding community. One day the headline for the Daily Prophet read: Former Order member Mundungus Fletcher found dead; legs bit off. It was a sad loss for the Order, for even though Fletcher could be a pain he had still helped them in many cases dealing with underground sources. Unfortunately, he was not the last.
Several Ministry officials began to suffer the same fate leaving a gory trail through the Wizarding World. The worst part was that no one seemed to know who was behind all of these exploits or even why. Some former Death Eaters were beginning to fall as well every single one of them having lost some sort of appendage to the fiendish murderer. The Ministry of Magic of course being flustered by the case was calling this a state of emergency. Mrs. Figg was reluctant to leave the house and her hands shook whenever her darling furry family drew close to the door.
Elvendork was having a bit of a problem adjusting to being part of the darling furry family, however. Whenever she placed Mr. Chuffy's Cat Food in his bowl, he'd turn his nose up and strut away to seethe on her favorite armchair. He'd hiss whenever the milkman came every morning and sleep through most of the day. Probably the oddest incident so far had been the day she came home from the market and found him lounging on the open phone directory.
The kittens seemed terrified of Elvendork and he wasn't particularly warm in response. Elvendork had command of the sitting room window ledge, so the kittens often hid in her bedroom or followed her around the house mournfully. She supposed that it was because Elvendork was, well to put it simply, hideous. He never cleaned his fur right, his little purple polka-dotted bow tie was torn and crooked, and his facial figures made him look like a wingless bat. She reminded herself that if she ever adopted another cat by choice, the chosen feline would not be another sphinx cat.
One day a family a few houses up the street named Peters put up a for sale sign due to the fact that they had received a vicious series of prank calls. Now, Mr. Peters was not the nicest man: he was known for yelling at children whenever they stepped on his freshly swept walkway. He made sure to clean every window on his house and scream at every 'hooligan' before departing from Privet Drive. He was not sorely missed.
So it came to one fateful night when the full moon was hidden behind the clouds that Arabella Figg awoke in the middle of the night. As she looked up at the opaque clouds in the sky she noticed the front door of the Dursley's hanging open on its hinges. The Dursleys had left earlier in the day to take Dudley off to his senior year at whatever the name of his horrid muggle school was, and they would not be returning until late tomorrow. She reached for her phone to call the police, but then she heard her babies meowing. Rushing down the stairs, she found her family huddled around the sitting room window that was now broken: a perfect circle was carved into the glass and punched out. She gasped and began counting heads; only one cat was missing and of course that cat was Elvendork. Mrs. Figg looked at the direction the window was facing and noticed it was perpendicular to that of the kitchen window on Number Four. Shoving her arms into the sleeves of her coat, she grabbed a shovel from outside and ventured into the unknown dungeon of the Dursley residence.
The house had an appearance of being normally clean, but now there were broken plates and picture frames littering the floor. She stepped on the well-gnawed door to what looked like a cabinet. Mrs. Figg felt chills run down her spine thinking about what the Dursley's would do to poor hideous Elvendork once they found their abode torn apart like this. It was instances like this that made her wish that she were not a squib. Peering in the hallway, she saw the door to a cupboard wide open and light poured out from this little hovel under the stairs. She was just about to charge upon the cabinet when she heard a voice.
"I just don't understand!" it hissed furiously. Terrified, Mrs. Figg pressed herself against the wall and began inching towards the front door. But wait! She had not found sweet, bad-tempered Elvendork, and he had been found in that cupboard. She imagined him concealing himself inside a box of old feather dusters too afraid to sneeze. Her heart went out to him, so pulling herself together Mrs. Figg inched back towards the cupboard, shovel poised for the assault.
"They said he lived here," grumbled the voice and the owner began pacing back and forth, his shoes clicking like tiny claws. Bracing herself, Mrs. Figg moved into sight. She couldn't believe her eyes. Pacing there and mumbling was Elvendork the cat. It took him a moment to notice her.
"What are you doing here, Muggle-Minion-of-the-Stinky-Food? I thought you were asleep!" he barked.
"You can talk!" she breathed out.
"Of course I can talk! Who do you think I am?" he raged.
"You're a cat!"
"I know I'm a cat. And it's terrible! When Dumbledore said there was something worse than death he was not mistaken," sneered Elvendork whilst in the process of coughing up a fur ball.
"B-but, who are you?" she questioned, tightening her hold on the shovel.
"You do not know who I am! But everyone fears me! I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!"
She couldn't believe it. She staggered back into the kitchen as her world spinned and finally began to turn black. Falling to the floor, Mrs. Figg heard Elvendork the cat who was really Lord Voldemort trapped in the body and paying for his crimes during his human life sneer, "Stupid Do-Gooder-Chicken-Minion."