4 Mrs. Figg

Vernon didn't agree to take Harry along when the Dursleys went to the cinema, to amusement parks or just day trips. At those times, Harry was left with Mrs. Figg, an older lady who was raising cats in her house.

Harry didn't mind too much. While some of these outings could be nice, spending them with Dudley and Vernon was not nice at all. Instead, he spent his time watching children's programs on television, another thing that Vernon didn't allow, or just reading some books. Mrs. Figg had some very interesting books that he could not find in the library. Most of the stories there had wizards and witches as main characters and they acted as if magic was normal to them.

At first, Mrs. Figg only let him read books for small children. When he insisted that he was no longer a small child, she allowed him to read some more of her books. After reading a few more books, Harry got a feeling that these were written by people who had magic and used it, people like him. Was Mrs. Figg also magical? He wasn't sure. Well, he could test it in a way.

The next time he was left with Mrs. Figg, it was a nice sunny day. "May I sit outside, in the garden? I see you have some very nice flowers."

She smiled at him. "Of course, dear. You should enjoy the good weather."

He had already tried his Mum's trick with flowers. He sat close to a cluster of flowers that he'd already managed to make respond to him. Mrs. Figg came out a bit later, carrying a tray with some juice for him, a cup of tea for her and some biscuits.

"When spending time in the sun, one should drink more," she said, handing him his glass.

She sat at his side. "Do you like this book?" She pointed at the book that he left open on the bench.

"It's interesting, and very different from most books I see elsewhere. Those books tell about nothing with magic or, in some cases, only one hero who uses magic. In this book, everybody uses magic. Can they be for real?" he asked innocently.

He noticed that she tensed at his question before she answered, her tone quite cautious. "Most people don't believe that Magic exists. They consider any story with magic to be mere fantasy. Yet some think otherwise. They believe that Magic exists and that a small minority of people can even use it, just like in these books."

Harry knew that he shouldn't ask more. His uncle had drilled it in him since Harry could barely talk. Instead, he crouched near a flower and used his magic to make the petals close when he touched one side of the stem and open when he touched the other. He made sure that Mrs. Figg could see it.

She gasped for a moment and then asked, barely keeping her voice under control, "What are you doing?"

He shrugged. "I turn my mind to the flower and ask it to close or open, depending on where I touch."

"Do you know what it is you're doing?" she asked.

He turned an innocent glance at her. "It can't be magic, can it? I think some call it…" He stumbled a bit with the long word, "…te-le-ki-ne-sis. I read this word means moving things by thought."

She shook her head as if clearing it. "Harry, that's magic. You have magic in you. You are a wizard." She paused and then added. "It was actually expected, considering your parents."

"Did you know my parents?" He didn't need to fake his interest this time.

She shook her head sadly. "No, dear. I only heard of them, but I know they loved you above all and that they were very talented. Both were very powerful magically. It's only natural that their son would also be a wizard."

"Are you a wizardess?" he asked. He knew this was probably the wrong term but he wasn't sure about the right one.

"No, dear. Unfortunately, I have no magic. Besides, a woman who has magic is called a witch, not a wizardess."

He frowned. "I thought that witches are old and ugly. At least they are in children's books."

She shook her head and smiled. "Witches are just women who have magic, no more. Your mother was a young and beautiful witch, as far as I know. Just like all people, some witches are young and some are old, some are beautiful and some are ugly, some are good and, unfortunately, some are bad. It was a very bad and evil wizard who killed your parents and gave you that scar."

Harry's hand moved almost automatically to his forehead, where the ugly scar still looked raw, as if he'd gotten it only a few days earlier. "I wish I could get rid of it…" he said.

Mrs. Figg gave it some thought, mumbling to herself. "A curse scar… goblins… could they?… must check… why not, really? He wouldn't like that, but…" She seemed to reach a decision. "I need to ask at some places, but I may be able to find somebody to get rid of your scar. Do you think your aunt will oppose it?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I think even Uncle Vernon would like to get rid of this scar. It only attracts unwanted attention to me, you know."

"Then, I'll start checking. It may take some time and I'm not sure if I'll find anything, but I'll let you know when I find out one way or another," she promised.

Harry smiled thankfully. "Thank you. I don't think anybody cared for me enough to even check. I'm really grateful to you."

She smiled at the child. "That's no problem and I'm happy to help whenever I can."

–..–

Harry wasn't too surprised to find that Mrs Figg let him read some other books when he next stayed with her. "My late husband used them," she told him.

He found them fascinating. All were books intended for first-year magical students. Since he was already in his second year at school, he thought he should be able to cope with them, He couldn't practice potions, of course, nor astronomy, but he could read about the history of the magical world and try some spells. He had no wand, of course, but he could use a straight stick instead, couldn't he?

The first spell he tried was one intended to only light the tip of his wand – Lumos. He wasn't sure how to pronounce it correctly, but one of the first pages in that book stated that the intent was the main part of magic. He made his intent very clear and then pointed his stick forward and said "Lumos!"

The first few times, nothing seemed to happen. He thought that the tip of his stick seemed a bit lighter in colour, but he couldn't be sure when in daylight. He was starting to get frustrated, shoving the stick forward more forcefully each time. It then flew out of his hand, yet his finger started shining nicely.

Harry was so startled, that he only looked at it for a while before ending the spell with "Nox!"

He tried some more. By just thinking of it, he could eventually make each finger emit light. Or any combination of fingers, if he so chose. He then tried to use his stick again. After lighting his fingers, this seemed an easy variation. By the time he returned to the Dursley residence, he could light the stick (or any other, for that matter) or his fingers at will. Mrs. Figg enjoyed watching his achievements. He knew that his aunt might also enjoy it, maybe not as much, and Uncle Vernon should better not know anything about it, nor Dudley, for that matter.

During his following visits with the old lady, Harry managed to learn the unlocking charm and then a locking one and one to levitate objects. He found that he could easily do them without his stick and only thinking of what he wanted, but holding that stick made it feel like he was actually doing something, even if it was just for show. He wondered if the wands and the movements were anything but show. After all, some magicians whom he had seen on television while visiting Mrs. Figg used all kinds of props to make the show more interesting. Maybe wizards did the same.

He wasn't as successful in Transfiguration, he thought. Oh, he managed to turn a match into a needle and back just by thought, but the chant and the wand movements were just too complex to do them right with his stick, and the explanations in the book weren't clear enough. He just enjoyed reading about the various transfigurations and trying them using thought only. Most worked for him that way.

Well, he didn't try to transfigure a mouse into a teacup. No mouse dared to come near that house that was full of cats. He could probably try it with one of the smaller cats, but he didn't think any would appreciate it, and he liked staying friendly with them all.

–..–

It was already summer by the time Mrs. Figg finally found a way to have Harry's scar healed. She came to visit with Aunt Petunia one morning, soon after Uncle Vernon left for work.

"I've noticed that Harry's scar attracts attention wherever he goes. He tries to hide it with his bangs, but that doesn't help too much. I'm sure you also don't like the attention it attracts to him," Mrs. Figg told his aunt.

"Of course. It would have been much better if it could be removed, but no doctor I tried could do anything for that. Only Plastic Surgery may be helpful, but it's not done to small children and it's too expensive for Vernon to agree, even if it was available."

"I have some connections at odd places and I think I found a way to remove it without surgery. The treatment is not widely known and I've been asked to keep it secret, but they agreed to check Harry and see if they could help. Would you like to try it?"

Petunia looked surprised. "Of course, I'd like to! The poor boy doesn't need a constant reminder of the event in which he lost his parents."

Mrs. Figg looked more confident. "I can take him there on Monday, if you like. I'll need your written approval for the check-up and any medical treatment needed after it. I'm not sure how long it may take, though. The exact treatment is highly dependant on what they find in the initial tests."

Petunia nodded. She had her suspicions about the woman's connections but she didn't need to say anything about them. "I'll make sure he's ready Monday morning, soon after Vernon leaves. I'm not yet sure what I can tell Vernon in case you return late."

Mrs. Figg smiled. "Say you loaned him to me for some chores. As an old woman, I sometimes need a muscular young man to help me." Both knew it was just a form of speech. Harry wasn't yet a young man and not very muscular, even for his age.

–..–

Harry was waiting for her when she came. A short taxi ride, followed by a much longer train ride and then a Tube ride brought them close enough to their destination. Harry didn't mind how long it took. As far as he knew, this was the first time he rode any of these. He wasn't sure, but he thought that it would have been Dudley's first too, had he joined them. He enjoyed watching the landscape passing by the windows, the various buildings, fields, forests and whatnot. Everything was new, exciting and interesting for him.

"We're in London now," Mrs. Figg told him. "We now need to walk a bit to reach a place called Gringotts. Its main entrance is somewhere that you wouldn't like to be seen with that scar, so I asked to use a hidden entrance. Hold my hand tightly, as London is quite a busy place."

It didn't take long for them to reach a door that showed a large "W. Gold" nameplate. Mrs. Figg pressed the bell button and waited.

The door was opened by someone who wasn't even as tall as Harry, although he seemed to be an adult. "May I help you?" he asked in a tone that sounded more menacing than welcoming.

"We have an appointment with your healers. I'm Arabella Figg and this young man is Harry Potter."

The person looked at some note he held in hand and nodded. "Follow me!" he said and started walking at a fast pace.

Harry found it quite tasking to keep pace and he thought that Mrs. Figg was also breathing quite heavily by the time they reached a room where their escort said, "Wait here!" before leaving.