Only a few hours after he got home from his heists, Harry groggily awoke to the sound of his Aunt's nails drumming on the door to his cupboard. Harry sighed, he felt like he'd just closed his eyes seconds before. A moment later, his cupboard door opened and his aunt's ugly mug was framed by the doorway. "Get up you lazy good for nothing boy!" She yelled. "It's time to make breakfast. I'll not have you lazing about all summer." She backed out of the doorway, straightened with a huff, and walked towards the kitchen.
Harry sighed. It was going to be one of those days, wasn't it. Some days were worse than others. On a good day, his relatives operated as if he didn't exist except to do a few chores here and there. On a bad day, like this one seemed to be, they belittled him and gave him more to do than he had time. He guessed it was too much to hope that his birthday would land on a good day.
His aunt continued to berate him as he made breakfast but let up when his uncle and cousin entered the room. Harry kept his head down and served his relatives breakfast. He was simply too tired to put up any pretense of a fight. He couldn't win anyways. No, on days like today, it was best to simply mitigate the problem by becoming as invisible as possible.
Sure enough, his uncle and cousin left, and his aunt gave him a list of chores to do before also walking away. Harry read the list. It was a lot, but not the most he'd ever had to do in one day. He reckoned he could be done by lunch.
Harry distracted himself as he worked by thinking up scenarios of how 'Old Mrs Figg' could possibly have known his mother. His favorite idea so far was that his Mom and Mrs Figg were secret agents of MI6 even though he knew it was pretty far-fetched. Maybe they were part of a criminal syndicate or maybe they were simply co-workers. Harry figured the latter was the most likely. People were seldom part of anything remotely exciting. Harry shrugged. He had no way of knowing. His aunt never talked about his mother except to complain that she'd been irresponsible and it wasn't fair that her and uncle Vernon had been stuck with another mouth to feed.
He was outside pulling weeds in the back garden just before lunch when he heard the phone ring through the open window. He heard his aunt's heels on the kitchen tile as she walked to the phone.
"Hello, Mrs Dursley speaking," he heard his aunt say. "Oh, hello Mrs Figg." His aunt's tone shifted slightly to a less friendly one. There was a somewhat long pause before he heard his aunt speak again. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said, and then a little bit later he heard her say, "Yes, I supposed I could send Harry over to your house later today, but not until he finishes his chores."
Mrs Figg worked quickly. Harry was lost in thought for a while, thinking of all the things he was going to learn from Mrs Figg about his mother. He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard his aunt say, "Yes, I suppose we could work something out so long as we're… I mean, the boy is compensated."
Harry wondered what they were talking about now. It sounded to him as if he was being sold for labor. Harry shuddered. It was just the type of thing the Dursley's would do. He grimaced. I'm not their property. They have no right. Harry continued to seethe quietly out of view as he listened in on the one sided conversation. Nothing of note was said though… just some niceties.
Harry resumed working on his chores. In his anger, he misjudged his hand placement and ended up cutting his middle finger on a thorn. "Ouch!" he exclaimed out loud and then promptly stuck his finger in his mouth trying to dull the pain. Mumbling to himself, he shifted and then resumed working. He was almost done. He'd just have to wait to see what his aunt and Mrs Figg had worked out.
A few hours later, his aunt called him into the kitchen. He walked through the backdoor and stood at the end of the table. "Get yourself showered and dressed in some different clothes," she said with a crinkled nose. Her upper lip drawn up in disgust.
Harry did as he was told. He walked up the stairs and into the bathroom. He stared at himself for a moment in the mirror before starting the shower.
Once showered and dressed, Harry made his way back down to the kitchen. When he got there, his Aunt was sitting at the table, just as before, and there were two sandwiches on plates set. One in front of her and the other in the space next to her. She gestured for him to have a seat. He sat with a frown. In any other family, the gesture would be perfectly normal. In the Dursley household, Harry only saw red flags.
His Aunt said, "Go ahead and eat, boy."
'Boy', Harry thought. All they ever did was call him 'boy'. As if he didn't have a name. He grabbed the sandwich and took a bite.
"Mrs Figg called earlier and she's had a bit of an accident. Tripped over one of her cats I suppose," she said. "She's asked for some help around her house for the rest of the summer and I've told her to expect you sometime today. You'll be staying with her in her house since she can't seem to get around much."
Harry stopped chewing. The rest of the summer? A whole month Dursley free it sounded like. He began looking for the inevitable downside that he was sure must be there somewhere. Then he remembered the compensation he'd heard them talk about over the phone. He probably wouldn't see a pence of it.
"You're to be on your best behavior. You'll do as you're told and not talk back," she said while wagging her finger at him. "If I hear that you've been anything but a gentleman, you'll have the belt!"
Harry shuddered at the memory of the last time he'd been whipped with a belt. He'd healed quickly, luckily, but the welts… oh the welts. He hadn't been able to sleep properly for days. He'd rather avoid that.
"And you better not go telling her about how you're treated here, understand?" she said. "No one will believe you anyways.
Harry nodded as he swallowed the last of his sandwich. He couldn't believe his luck. A whole month away from the Dursleys. A whole month to learn from Mrs Figg about his mum and hopefully learn how she'd known he'd stolen from her. He understood now why his Aunt was mostly being nice to him even if she was threatening him. He'd tried telling teachers about how he was treated by the Dursley's but they didn't believe him. His Aunt's gossip about him had spread too far. It wouldn't matter. Nothing would change.
"Good," she said. "Go on then, Mrs Figg is waiting for you."
Harry stopped at his cupboard to grab his hairpins and the fanny pack he hadn't had time to put away in his hideout the night before. He then made his way out the front door and started walking to Mrs Figg's house. He just managed to contain his excitement in case his Aunt was still watching him. As he rounded the corner, he saw Piers Polkiss and Dudley heading his way.
Before they could see him, he crept back and hid between a garbage bin and the fence. It would be safer to let them walk past him unnoticed. They weren't likely to let Harry go on his own way without any trouble. They came into view a moment later and he could see they were each wearing headphones. Harry was going to just let them walk by but then he saw a wad of cash hanging out of Piers' back pocket. It was hard to pass up the chance to pickpocket one of his greatest enemies, even in broad daylight. He crept up on Piers, matching his footsteps so he wouldn't be noticed by the oblivious boy. He reached out and deftly swiped the wad of cash and then crept back to his hiding spot near the garbage bins. He waited until they were fully out of view before he continued walking towards Mrs Figg's house.
Harry unfolded the wad of cash and began counting. 'There is nearly 100 quid here!', he thought. He wondered if Piers and Dudley were planning on shopping this afternoon. He laughed out loud and practically skipped the rest of the way. His birthday was going better than he could have anticipated. He slid the money into his fanny pack, which was now covered by his baggy shirt.
Harry knocked on Mrs Figg's door and waited. A few seconds later, Mrs Figg shouted for him to come on in. He opened the door with a bit of trepidation, remembering the last time they'd talked, and walked in cautiously. "Harry!" he heard as he cleared the doorway, "Come in, come in!"
Mrs Figg had a big smile on her face that put him at ease instantly.
"You did an excellent job last night. I'm so happy to have my kitten back. The money, laddie, I wasn't expecting. I have been watching you but you seem to be full of surprises," she said to him.
Harry paused. What did she mean? He'd only gotten the kitten last night…
Mrs Figg laughed and said in a pleased voice, "Don't tell me it was an accident!"
Harry caught up. The bag. Harry had completely forgotten about the bag. He'd only grabbed it so he could safely store the kitten.
"You must have the gods on your side if you grabbed the bag of cash on accident!" she said. "There was nearly 1000 quid tucked away in there with the kitten. It seems Mrs Koshkov could have afforded to pay me full price and was withholding it out of spite."
Harry couldn't believe it. 1000 quid in the bag just laying there in the Kitchen. That amount of money was unfathomable to him. And he'd just nicked it by chance. Mrs Koshkov ought to have been keeping that amount of money somewhere safer. He was a bit miffed that he'd just handed the money over to Mrs Figg, but he smiled at her. It didn't hurt to have her in a good mood and he hoped she'd forgiven him for stealing her figurine.
"Here, come say hi to the kitten you rescued. He's just in the kitchen," she said. Harry followed her into the next room. Mrs Figg's kitchen was night and day different from Aunt Petunia's. It wasn't overly messy but it was very well lived in. Her counters were covered with appliances and food instead of put away out of sight. Her cupboards were painted green and she had floral wallpaper throughout the room. It felt very welcoming.
On the floor next to the kitchen table was the kitten he'd rescued the night before. Harry hadn't had the chance to get a good look at him as he rushed out of the house last night. He was black as night with amber eyes. The kitten meowed loudly at him. He crouched down and the kitten walked over and headbutted his hand, purring.
"He likes you." Mrs Figg said simply. Harry smiled at the kitten as he scratched his ears. "You should name him", she said. "I haven't been able to come up with anything for him." Harry thought for a second. Names were important and he wanted to do right by his new friend. Harry thought for a while, looking at his black fur. There wasn't a spot of any other color on him. Just jet black fur similar to Harry's hair. His amber eyes shined brightly in contrast and seemed strangely intelligent.
"How about… Midnight?" he asked the kitten. The cat purred but didn't indicate whether he liked it or not. "No, better be… Shadow?" The cat blinked in response. "You're right, much to common. Hmm…" Harry looked into the cat's eyes and detected a bit of mischief. And then it came to him. "How about Loki?" He asked the kitten. The kitten meowed in approval before headbutting his hand again. Harry laughed. "I think he likes it," he said to Mrs Figg.
"Aye, a good name. Names are important," she said. "You should keep him. Consider him a birthday present." Loki meowed in discontent and Harry understood why. He wasn't a thing to be given away. He was a living being. Mrs Figg continued unaware, "I doubt your aunt will let you take him home…" Harry snorted. No. She would absolutely not let him take him home. Uncle Vernon or Dudley would likely kill him. The thought soured his mood a bit and he shook away the thought. "Well," she said with a frown, "I suppose he could stay here. You've obviously already got a bond so I won't sell him to anybody. Wouldn't be right by either of you."
"Thanks, Mrs Figg," he said. Today was turning out to be the best birthday he'd ever had. "Does that mean that you've forgiven me for stealing from you?" he asked.
"You're forgiven for stealing from me, but don't do it again. Another bag of money won't save you from my wrath if you do me like that ever again." Harry looked her in her eyes and said, "I won't. I promise." And he meant it. Mrs Figg was a friend for life for what she was doing for him. He didn't know what compelled him to break his one rule in the first place.
"You really do have your mother's eyes, Harry, has anyone told you that?" She said.
Harry thought. He hardly knew anything about his mother. No one, not even his Aunt would tell him anything about her. "No," he said finally, "No one has ever told me that." He saw Mrs Figg frown.
"Not even your aunt?" she asked him. He shook his head no.
Harry could feel Mrs Figg assessing him. He tried not to shift in discomfort, but failed. She walked over to him as if seeing him for the first time. Harry stood still as she reached towards him and tugged on his baggy shirt sleeve. "The Dursley's don't treat you very well, do they laddie?" she asked him. Before he could answer she continued, "They told the whole neighborhood that you were a miscreant and a criminal and I figured they were just give you some tough love… but you're not, a miscreant, are you, laddie? Well… I mean… other than stealing from me," she said with a smile. "The other things they say about you, they're not true are they?"
Harry didn't say anything at first, but decided that Mrs Figg had earned his trust and opened up a little bit. He pet Loki's head and said, "I'm not a trouble maker, really, Mrs Figg. In fact I didn't even start stealing until everyone already assumed that I was a bad kid." He took a breath and decided to press forward in defense of his actions. "I don't just steal from anybody, normally. I don't know why I stole your figurine… it was just calling to me and I couldn't help it. Normally…" he paused trying to think of how best to phrase it. Loki was purring contentedly in his arms and that soothed him. "Normally, I don't just steal just because… Don't get me wrong, I do like stealing. I love the thrill of it and the challenge… but I have a rule now. I only steal from people that deserve it. I have to have a good reason."
Mrs Figg was watching him with interest. "I don't suppose that sometimes those reasons are a bit flexible, eh?" she asked him. Harry thought about her question for a minute. Did he sometimes stretch it and make up an excuse to make it okay? Sure. He tried not to push it too far though. He smiled. Mrs Figg seemed to understand him and she wasn't judging him. She continued, "So you steal to because you like it but to justify it, there has to be a reason?"
"Exactly!" he said. "Otherwise, I'm no better than the average bully and I hate bullies. Stealing feels good and is a thrill to me, but the greater thrill is providing justice in an otherwise unjust situation. If they don't know where the justice came from, all the better."
Mrs Figg was looking at a large gray cat on top of the refrigerator. Harry had been over here a couple times while Mrs Figg minded him when the Dursley's went on vacation but he'd never seen this particular cat before. The cat had purple intelligent eyes and the gray fur had a purple hew to it. If he didn't know any better, he'd guess they were having a conversation. Harry laughed at the thought. The cat jumped off the fridge and ran into the next room.
Harry yawned and remembered that he'd only gotten a few hours of sleep last night.
Mrs Figg seemed to remember as well and said, "Why don't you sit tight with Loki and I'll make us dinner?" Harry made to get up from his chair but Mrs Figg bade Harry to sit down. "I'll tell you a bit about your parents while I cook." Harry complied immediately, suddenly less tired.
"Lets see… where to start…" Mrs Figg hummed to herself with her finger on her chin, deep in thought. Harry thought he heard her murmur something about a dumb door being upset with her. He looked down at Loki. The small kitten was curled up in his lap sleeping. "Alright, well there is nothing for it. I can't really tell you about your parents without telling you…" She broke off again seemingly trying to figure out how to tell him something.
"Have you ever done something out of the ordinary or had something happen around you that you couldn't explain?" she asked him. "It would most likely happened while you were stressed or really wanted something." Harry didn't know where she was going but she had such a serious look on her face that he decided to just think about it for a minute.
There was that time he got blamed for turning his substitute teacher's hair blue… but that was surely just someone else performing a prank. Harry thought it was a pretty good prank, actually, and would have appreciated it more if he hadn't been blamed for it.
Then there was the time he ended up on top of the school while he was running from Dudley and his gang… Harry always assumed he'd just disassociated or something because of stress. But everyone else made a big deal about it and Dudley didn't go near him for a whole week he was so scared.
Harry guessed there were odd things going on around him from time to time and he nodded in the affirmative. "Yeah, I suppose… Why do you ask?" Mrs Figg had a knowing smile on her face as she said, "I ask because they are signs of your magic reacting. When magical kids want something or are stressed, their magic reacts and things happen that no one can seem to explain. And you laddie are a magical, just like your dad and just like your mom."
Harry raised one eyebrow as if to ask if she really expected him to believe that.
Mrs Figg chuckled and said, "I'm being serious Harry. You are magical just like your parents. There's a whole society of witches and wizards all around the world. They have to hide from the non magicals to avoid persecution."
That made sense to Harry. After all, he wore a mask every day to avoid detection as at thief. Being a thief was who Harry really was. It was part of his identity. Did that mean that being magical was another part of his identity? He wondered which of the two he'd end up owning more of. Probably being a thief, he thought. He'd managed to be a decent thief without any magic, after all… but then he started to wonder if accidental magic had ever played a role in his success. There was no way for him to know, he reckoned, so why worry about it. Harry thought some more about some of the weird things that had happened around him and he decided it was crazy to believe anything other than what Mrs Figg was telling him. Besides, what did she have to gain by lying to him? Maybe, he should trust her for now until he could get proof.
"Mrs Figg, does that mean that you are magical as well?" he asked. He'd hoped maybe Mrs Figg could give him an example.
He saw her flinch and suddenly regretted his question.
"Ah, no, not exactly," she said. "I am what is known as a squib. A squib is someone with magical parents but no magical ability of their own. They are looked down on in magical society," she finished.
Harry frowned. It didn't seem fair that someone could either be born with or without magic. It didn't make any sense to him. To be born into the magical world but not be able to do any magic at all seemed a very cruel fate. He wondered if there was a way to give someone the ability. Could he steal magic from someone undeserving of it and give it to someone else? Probably not, he reckoned, otherwise Mrs Figg would have found a way to do just that. Still, the idea was planted in his head firmly and was now unwilling to move. He'd have to look into it.
Mrs Figg continued, "Your mom is an example of the opposite. In polite society, she's what is known as a first generation witch because no one else in her family had any magical ability. You should know that there are some people in magical society that look down on first generation magicals. They have cruel names for them, but I shan't tell you that now."
Harry was getting the idea, he thought, that magical society was just as fickle as regular society and that there were people trying to maintain superiority in any way they could. Regular people had money, politics, and even blood in certain circles in England. Magicals seemed to be just the same, but added magic into the mix.
Harry didn't think it was exactly fair to judge someone for something they couldn't control. He reckoned he could have just as easily been born in America or China and had no magic. It all came down to chance. He'd rather judge someone by their character and ability.
"Your father on the other hand was from an old pureblood family. The Potter family can trace back their magic several generations," she said. "It was quite a scandal when your father married your mother, though your grandparents were thrilled. They loved Lily and you."
"What happened to them?" he asked. He figured they weren't still around or else he'd be living with them instead of the Dursley's. He couldn't help but wonder what that would have been like. Definitely better than what he had now. Life was unfair like that sometimes he mused.
Mrs Figg crossed her arms and frowned. She seemed to be thinking what to tell him. "Unfortunately, they died during the last wizarding war, the same as your parents," she said with a sigh. Harry frowned. His parents had died in a war? He scoffed. He shouldn't be surprised that his aunt and uncle had lied when they said they'd died in a car crash.
"My aunt said that they died in a car crash. Her and Uncle Vernon always said that my parents were lazy, inconsiderate drunks with no jobs. I'm guessing that they weren't being honest about that part too?" he asked.
Mrs Figg had a sneer on her face at the revelation. "No!" she screamed. "Sorry. No." she said. She got up from her chair and started to make some tea. "No, your parents were very good people. Courageous people, in fact. Your father was an Auror, that's a person that catches dark wizards, like a detective. Dangerous work that. Takes a whole lot of skill, brains, and a certain level of bravery that not many wizards have these days."
"And my mother?" he asked. He wondered if his mom was the type to stay at home and raise kids or if she also had a career. He thought both were completely valid options and were better than what his aunt and uncle had said about them. He just wanted to know his parents better.
"Your mother was an expert at charms and potions and could have chosen a multitude of careers had she been born into a pureblood family. The fact that she was muggle born set her back a bit, but she was extremely gifted and intelligent. She worked with me, in fact, for an organization that didn't care about her origins."
Harry smiled. He was so happy to hear that his parents were good people and not the things he'd been told. He yawned again. Mrs Figg placed a steaming cup of herbal tea in front of him. "Drink up laddie, that ought to help you sleep tonight."
Harry and Mrs Figg drank their tea in silence, each thinking of the past.
After they finished their tea, Mrs Figg insisted that Harry try and get some sleep tonight and that she'd continue to answer his questions tomorrow. Harry wanted to protest but the yawns discredited anything he said. Mrs Figg helped him gather Loki's things and she took him upstairs to one of the spare rooms.
A few minutes later, he was fast asleep on the queen sized bed.
Harry woke suddenly to raised voices. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. Where was he? He definitely wasn't in his cupboard… moonlight was shining through a window in the room. Something stirred on his stomach and he looked down. Loki was stretching his front paws out and yawning. Harry must have woken him up. He remembered now that he was at Mrs Figg's place in the spare bedroom upstairs. He wondered who he'd heard yelling downstairs.
He lifted the covers off and stood at the edge of the bed. Worried that maybe Mrs Figg was in trouble, he walked to the door and opened it. He could hear Mrs Figg and another voice he wasn't familiar with from the stairs. He started to catch snippets of the conversation and instantly knew that they were talking about him.
"The lad arrived with nothing but the clothes on his back. His relatives sent him to stay here for a whole month with nothing else. I've watched him before and it's always the same and I've had enough. Things need to change around here. We need to do something to take care of the lad."
Another voice that belonged to a man said, "I promised the Dursley's that there would be no interference from the magical community when they took the boy in. Surely it's not as bad as you say. My wards would have notified me if there was serious trouble."
Mrs Figg continued, "Your wards are wrong. I can tell that something is not right at that house. They told him that his parents died in a car crash and that they were layabout drunks. He has no idea who he is. He has no friends. The Dursley's work him to the bone and I'm beginning to suspect that they treat him more like a house elf than a human!"
Harry heard a loud sigh but couldn't catch what the man said.
Mrs Figg responded in a lower voice. He'd have to get closer if he wanted to hear what was being said. He didn't want to eavesdrop on Mrs Figg though. She'd been kind to him to get him away from the Dursley's and was obviously trying to help him now. Harry decided to risk it. They were talking about him after all. He grabbed Loki and crept down the stairs a bit further. It seemed the voices were coming from the sitting room so he should be able to hear from the kitchen. He made his way down the stairs without a sound and put his ear to the door to the sitting room.
"I know you mean well, Professor, but if you were here you'd agree with me. The boy needs help. He's being neglected. Surely your wards aren't so important that the boy's health and well being should pay for them."
"My wards are all that is keeping him safe from witches and wizards that would see him harmed. Still, maybe there is a way we can help Harry without interfering with my promise."
"I'm a squib, surely I don't count as magical interference. Let me take the boy in and get him some clothes at least. It wouldn't have to be permanent. You said the wards needed to be recharged every year, but how much time do they need?"
The professor replied, "I'm not sure. I will need to come by and test them without the Dursley's knowing. Can you let me through? I might as well get this done now."
Harry didn't know what the man meant by letting him through. Surely Mrs Figg wasn't blocking his path. Either way it sounded like they'd be coming through the kitchen any moment and he'd better skedaddle. Harry hurried to the stairs and climbed them as quietly as he could. He decided to wait at the top of the stairs out of view. He figured he could sneak back into his bedroom if it seemed they were coming upstairs.
A few minutes later he heard them walk through the kitchen. He could hear them talking in hushed tones and wasn't able to understand any of it. He heard the front door open and shut and figured they had left the house. It wasn't worth checking though so he stayed put. What on earth was going on? It sounded like Mrs Figg was trying to get him away from the Dursley's for even longer than the rest of summer. He really hoped she succeeded in convincing the professor. He couldn't help but wonder why the professor had a say in what he did anyways. Who was he to tell Mrs Figg what she could and couldn't do? He sat at the top of the stairs and pet Loki. The kitten purred contentedly the whole time. Harry thought over the bits of conversation he'd heard. What was a house elf, he wondered? And the wards? Probably some type of protective or monitoring magic that the professor placed around the Dursley's house. The professor had mentioned them keeping him safe, but from what? Maybe his parents had had enemies. That would make sense if his dad was a… he sifted through his memory of earlier that night… an auror, he thought.
Harry was pulled from his thoughts when the front door opened back up and shut a little while later. He could hear the voices again but couldn't understand what was being said. Did he risk going back down to the kitchen? They weren't likely to go back to the sitting room if the professor was going to leave any time soon. He ultimately decided it was worth the risk. He'd apologize if he got caught and say he thought he'd heard something and it had woken him up.
He and Loki snuck down the stairs and into the kitchen. From the kitchen, he could hear the conversation a bit better. It seemed that neither the professor or Mrs Figg were angry any longer. Harry figured that was a good thing. He placed his ear to the door and listened.
"I can't believe how weak the wards are. If there was anything amiss going on in that house then I doubt that the warning would make it to me unless it was something extremely dark," the professor said and sighed heavily. "You said that Harry has only been here since this afternoon?" he checked.
Mrs Figg said, "Aye, just this afternoon. Not even 12 hours. Does that mean anything." There was a pause and then Harry heard the professor reply, "Based on the level of the wards, I'd guess that Harry hasn't felt very loved while he's been there… He probably doesn't think of the place as home. Wards alone are complicated and sometimes finicky, blood wards even more so. I had hoped that Lily's sacrifice transferred to the familial love of her only living relative would protect the boy… and they have, but only just."
"Do you think it's worth keeping him there? It's a miracle the lad isn't a psychopath or worse in those conditions. He needs love. He needs to be cared for or your 'savior' might end up turning to the dark, like Tom. Please, professor, let him stay with me… I knew his parents and I can be there for him."
"Ah, I think you're right, Mrs Figg," the voice said slowly. Harry could tell that the Professor was deeply sad. He thought he'd heard enough of them talking about him. He didn't understand everything they said but he understood the jist. It sounded like Mrs Figg had been able to convince the professor that he needed to be taken from the Dursley's. He expected the Dursley's would be thrilled except he wondered who'd be doing all the work around the house. The thought of Dudley doing gardening or cooking meals made Harry laugh out loud.
He made his way back up the stairs and into the bedroom. He looked at his watch and it was only a quarter to 3:00AM. He could get a few more hours of sleep hopefully. He put Loki down on the bed in the space next to him, pulled the covers over him and went back to sleep.
Downstairs, Mrs Figg and the professor worked out what to tell the Dursley's and worked through some other details. It wasn't until nearly 5:00AM that the professor left and Mrs Figg turned in for a couple hours of sleep.
When Harry woke up, it was just after sunrise. His routine at the Dursley's made it difficult to sleep in too long and he didn't really mind that. He got up and went to the bathroom to get ready for the day. After a fresh shower and brushing his teeth, he put on the same clothes from yesterday. He hoped he'd be able to get some clothes that fit him. Maybe some of that money he'd taken from Mrs Koshkov would go to good use.
In the kitchen, Harry inspected the contents of the fridge. There was everything he needed to make a decent breakfast for the two of them. He pulled out the bacon, eggs, and bread and got started on breakfast. He saw Hermes watching him from his spot on the top of the fridge. He could have sworn the cat winked at him at one point.
He wondered where Loki had gone off to… he was worried for a bit and then he reminded himself that Loki was a cat and was probably just off doing cat things elsewhere. He couldn't expect him to hang out by him all day, could he?
Breakfast done, he set the table and was contemplating on whether or not to wake Mrs Figg up or to leave her be. He decided to wait just a bit and sat down. The large gray cat that he'd seen last night jumped from his spot on the fridge and wondered off up the stairs.
Harry decided to start cleaning up the dishes in the meantime. A short while later, Mrs Figg came down the stairs in a robe. Her hair was a mess and she was rubbing her eyes, confused.
"Good morning Mrs Figg," he said as he put a fresh mug of tea on the table. "I made breakfast. I hope that's okay?
"Of course it's okay, Harry, but you didn't have to go through all the trouble," she said.
"No worries Mrs Figg, I like cooking well enough and I er…" How did he want to go about this. He could be up front and let her know that he'd heard a bit of the conversation or he could play dumb… but he figured Mrs Figg would likely figure it out eventually just like she'd figured out he'd stolen her cat figurine. No, best to be honest and start off on a good foot. He continued, "I know you were up late last night. I heard a bit of your conversation with the… professor, and I wanted to say thanks for standing up for me…" he finished kind of lamely, he thought.
He looked up and saw Mrs Figg staring with wide eyes. He tried not to smirk, pleased that he'd been sneaky enough to get one past her for once. Mrs Figg took a sip of her tea and Harry sat down opposite of her with a plate of food. He watched as Mrs Figg looked up at the large gray cat sitting on top of the fridge. It looked like they were having a conversation again, he thought.
A moment and a few silent bites of food later, Mrs Figg finally said something to break the silence. "Well, I was hoping to have some more time to organize my thoughts but I suppose you eavesdropping on the conversation makes things simpler. Tell me what you heard and I'll fill in the rest," she sighed.
So Harry summarized what he'd heard and then told her a bit about what it was like living at the Dursley's. He noticed her face get a bit stony when he told her about the cupboard under the stairs that was his bedroom. The large cat jumped back down off the fridge and then jumped onto her lap. Mrs Figg pet the large cat as Harry spoke about his treatment by the Dursley's. When he finally finished, Mrs Figgs mouth was a very thin line. She took another sip of tea and then said, "I'm sorry Harry. I've failed you. I could tell you weren't the happiest boy but I had no idea of the extent of your treatment in that house."
Harry went to say that it wasn't her fault but when he opened his mouth, Mrs Figg raised her hand to stop him.
"There is much to share with you, Harry, and then you can decide whether or not I'm worthy of your forgiveness."
Harry nodded and then took another sip of his tea. Mrs Figg's large gray cat jumped onto the table and laid down. Harry thought Mrs Figg was going to shew him away but she didn't. Harry's aunt would have a cow if an animal lounged on her kitchen table. Mrs Figg and the cat were staring at each other again. He couldn't take it any more. He had to ask.
"Are you two talking? Is that a thing too?" he asked bluntly. He wouldn't be surprised if she said yes at this point.
Mrs Figg laughed and said, "Usually we're a lot more subtle when we talk to each other but I guess the cat is out of the bag as they say." Despite his assurances to himself that he wouldn't be surprised, Harry felt his jaw drop at the revelation.
Mrs Figg continued, "It's not a thing for everyone. Hermes here is a Bakeneko and can speak telepathically to those he chooses to." At this revelation, Harry began to feel a presence brush across his consciousness. It felt like a feather being swept over his head. It tickled and he smiled.
Then he heard an unfamiliar deep voice in his thoughts say, "Hello Harry Potter, it is a pleasure to meet you formally. My name is Hermes." Harry shook his head. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable but it was definitely different than anything he'd ever experienced. Harry thought the 'voice' fit the large cat. He decided to try and reply back mentally instead of out loud. "Hello Hermes, it's nice to meet you as well," he said simply.
The cat bowed his head and then broke off contact, apparently done with the mental conversation.
"That was something else," he said to Mrs Figg. He was still smiling at the contact. Hermes deep voice could have come off frightening but it had been so calming to Harry. He hoped to be able to speak to him again at some point.
"Yes, it is a very special thing you just experienced. Bakeneko are tremendous judges of character and are very picky about who they talk to. Hermes is even more picky in my opinion, though he did enjoy your mother's company and spoke with her on a few occasions."
Harry was happy at the comparison.
"As I was saying, there is a lot to talk about and Hermes and I were simply discussing the merits of sharing with you our own little secret in addition. It is important I think, that you have the full story so you can decide whether or not I really am worthy of your forgiveness. What I'm about to tell you is a far bigger secret and must be kept in complete confidence. My life and Hermes life would be at risk if you were to tell the wrong person."
Harry nodded solemnly and promised not to say a word, even if he was angry afterwards. And he meant it. He guessed it was what his mom would have wanted of him. She was a part of this too, obviously.
"I can't tell you everything. Magical oaths limit what I can share but I will tell you what I can. Your mother, before she died, and I are members of a secret magical society known simply as the Guild these days. It's true name can only be given to those that have taken the steps to be initiated into it. The Guild operates across the world and considers itself separate from any one nation. It is governed by it's own creeds and regulations. It operates in the shadows of society, unseen and unheard."
Harry nodded, excited. It sounded like his kind of people.
"The Guild has spies all across the world in positions to gather intel and do things that the Guild determines are necessary for the good of people as a whole. That is the Guild's primary purpose. It was started in order to keep the people in power in check. Powerful people tend to not like that, so the Guild has to operate secretly."
This is soooo cool, Harry thought to himself. His mom was part of a secret organization!
"As a member of the Guild, I was tasked with keeping tabs on the Potter's and their circle of allies. To that end, I was hired on as a housekeeper and tutor. There is little I can do as a squib, and the Potter's being the light sided progressive type that they are agreed to hire me instead of purchasing another house-elf. I had been with them for around 10 years when your father introduced Lily to the family."
Harry was engrossed in her story. It was so nice to get to learn more about who is parents were before they died.
"I ended up recommending to the Guild that Lily be recruited. She really was something, your mother. So smart and capable. It was such a shame that her blood status kept her from pursuing a career in the ministry. She would have been a force to be reckoned with. The guild had no qualms with hiring a first generation witch and saw her talent for what it was worth. After a couple years, she got her first big assignment, which was to infiltrate the "Order of the Phoenix". The Order of the Phoenix is Dumbledore's group of vigilantes."
Their purpose was to try and stop the dark wizard, Lord Voldemort, and his followers from taking over the ministry. The Guild had a vested interest in seeing Lord Voldemort destroyed as well so Lily began to support the Order and provide intel to the Guild."
Then, rather suddenly, your mother and father went into hiding and we lost contact with your mum. At the time, we had no idea what had happened. This is where everything went sideways very quickly. Up until Lord Voldemort's rise to power, the Guild was growing in number. It had spies in every major country and in countless businesses and organizations. We think that Voldemort must have had his own follower among our numbers because suddenly many of our missions began to fail and we began to lose members left and right. It was a very sad time and I lost a lot of friends."
Among the chaos and the huge losses the Guild was seeing in England, your mother seemed to slip through the cracks. Before they died, your grandparents admitted to me that your mum and dad had gone into hiding but they didn't know where. They also told me that your mom was pregnant with you. They were so happy to know they had a grandson."
"How did they die?" Harry asked then.
Mrs Figg sighed sadly and answered, "Voldemort had them killed when they refused to join him. He'd been recruiting pure-blood witches and wizards at that point. If you didn't agree to join, he'd have you killed."
Harry figured that was probably a simplified answer and that there was more to it, but didn't press.
Mrs Figg continued, "It seemed as though Lord Voldemort was going to win over Wizarding Britain. And then it happened. For some unknown reason, he went after your family. When he went to your home in Godric's Hollow he killed your mom and dad, but when he tried to kill you it backfired on him and he vanished."
Mrs Figg was crying now as she recounted the loss of her friends. Harry cried too. He couldn't believe that someone would go after his parents while they were in hiding. And to go after a baby… what a terrible thing to do.
"Why did he go after us?" Harry asked.
Mrs Figg blew her nose and said, "I'm still not sure, though I suspect that Dumbledore knows. The Guild hasn't been able to discern why Lord Voldermort targeted your parents. To be honest, even 10 years later, we're still recovering from the war and don't have the resources we had before."
In your mother's absence, and after the Potters had died, I was charged by the Guild to try and worm my way into Dumbledore's Order. I didn't have much to offer but I managed to convince Professor Dumbledore to take pity on the Potter's last remaining connection. He got me a job working for his brother at a pub. Dumbledore likes to trade in favors so I figured me owing him would eventually lead to something else and I was right."
"After your parents died, Dumbledore wanted to move you to your aunt's house to keep you safe from any lingering dark wizards seeking revenge. He figured the muggle world was the safest place for you and your mother being a very clever witch, had done some sort of blood magic before she died. Dumbledore suspects, and the Guild agrees, that your mother's sacrifice is what saved you that night. Her magic lives on in your blood and Dumbledore was able to tie that magic to wards around the Dursley's house. It was supposed to protect you from harm."
He eventually called in my favor and asked me to move into the neighborhood to keep an eye on things. Your aunt made him promise that there would be no interference from the magical world when she agreed to take you in. Since I'm a squib, he was able to keep a closer eye on you without breaking his promise to your aunt. And that is where I failed you. I should have paid more attention. I should have stepped in when I saw how unhappy you were. I was a fool and I'm sorry, Harry."
Harry thought over everything he'd learned from Mrs Figg. It was a lot to take in and he probably didn't fully understand everything that went on. He was only 10 after all. But he appreciated Mrs Figg treating him respectfully and telling it to him straight. Harry didn't blame Mrs Figg for not realizing that he was being abused. No one else noticed it either. He decided that Mrs Figg didn't have anything to be sorry for. It helped that she was taking steps to correct her mistake now that she realized how off things were.
"It's okay, Mrs Figg. I don't think my mom would want you to beat yourself up over this. And I appreciate you trying to make things right now," he said.
"I don't think I deserve it but I thank you for accepting my apology, Harry. I promise to try and make it up to you," she said.