Chapter One: Origins

Harry Potter sat on his cot in his room under the stairs. It was nearly midnight, and Harry was about to turn 10 years old. Double digits. Finally. He reckoned that even though no one else cared that he was turning 10, it didn't mean he couldn't celebrate in his own way. The Dursleys, his relatives with whom he lived, certainly weren't going to make a fuss about it, if they mentioned it at all. No, his aunt, uncle, and cousin were more likely to make things worse if they did remember by giving him extra chores. Harry was content to remain quiet and be happy for himself rather than risk ruining the day by bringing it up. He imagined that had his parents been alive, they would have planned a huge blowout for his reaching 10 years of age. It didn't do to dwell on what could be, he reminded himself. It was truly up to him to make the most of his life.

Harry grinned to himself. He'd been planning what he was going to do for his birthday all week, and it was time to get started. He reached above the door and grabbed a hairpin from his stash of 'lockpicks'. Harry had taken to collecting items that could help him break out of his room whenever he needed. Hairpins were the go-to for simple locks. They were easy to come by and easy to hide. If anyone found one in his room, they'd assume it had made its way there by mistake. He pushed the illuminate button on his watch and checked the time. It was 12:00 AM, and everyone was surely asleep by now. He jimmied the hairpin into the lock, twisted, and pushed until he undid it.

The door creaked open, and Harry could hear the dulled sounds of Dudley's TV playing upstairs. His cousin often fell asleep with his TV on, so it was safe to assume he was asleep. He gently closed his door and made his way to the kitchen, not bothering to turn any lights on. He knew the layout by heart, having spent so much time cleaning and cooking for his relatives. He walked to the refrigerator and opened the door to claim his prize.

While he did most of the cooking, his aunt always chose the menu. Far be it from Harry to make something he actually liked. No, he had to be smart about it. Harry loved treacle tart. It was his absolute favorite—always had been. He had worked hard all week to leave subtle hints here and there to help influence his aunt's decisions for meals. He started by fishing through her recipe book and making sure the page with treacle tart on it was a little loose. That way, whenever she opened the book, she'd see the treacle tart. Then, when he'd gone shopping for his aunt, he'd made sure to slip in the ingredients needed to make it. It had worked. This very night, his aunt had decided that treacle tart was on the menu for dinner. He made sure to sigh heavily when she told him.

He wasn't allowed to have any at dinner, of course. No, dessert was never offered to Harry. But today was his birthday, and as a gift to himself, he was going to help himself to some in the middle of the night while everyone else was asleep. Harry hummed "Happy Birthday" to himself while he ate.

Once he was done, he very carefully put the leftovers back in the fridge exactly as they had been before. He washed his dishes quietly and put them back. No one would be able to tell that he'd been there at all.

"Time for part two," Harry whispered to himself. This next part was far riskier than sneaking into the kitchen for a midnight snack. Harry crouched low and very carefully walked out of the kitchen toward the front door. He was a bit nervous about sneaking out that way. He could take the back door, but then he'd have to deal with the gate, which was directly below his aunt and uncle's bedroom window. Since it was summer, it was likely their window was open. No… risky as it was, it was safer to use the front door. He steeled himself and quietly walked through the front door, gently shutting it behind him. He hesitated slightly and paused to listen for any indication he'd been heard. When it was clear to him that he hadn't been detected, he started to walk.

Harry walked up Privet Drive, basking in the quiet darkness that the night provided. He was in his element, able to remove the mask he wore during the daytime. His relatives had tried so hard to make his life hell. For a long time, no one trusted or liked him, thanks to his aunt gossiping about what a lazy, no-good troublemaker he was. Whenever Harry was out in public or at school, he was treated with disdain. If something went wrong, Harry was the first to be blamed, even if there was no evidence whatsoever that it had, in fact, been him.

This had bothered Harry a lot. He cared very much about his reputation and hated that everyone thought poorly of him. This drove him to always be on his best behavior when people were around. He had to be above reproach at all times, so he worked hard to keep his hands clean. He had mastered the art of staying out of trouble. He became a model citizen and student. Soon, his aunt's words were no longer enough; people no longer thought of him as a delinquent, thanks to the polite and studious demeanor he wore. It frustrated his aunt, but there wasn't much she could do about it in public.

But the night provided anonymity, and he could walk freely. He was very sneaky and could navigate the shadows in such a way that he might as well be invisible. It was like magic to Harry. If he didn't want to be seen or heard in the dark, then he went unnoticed by those around him. And in the darkness, Harry was free to be himself. And he was anything but a model citizen.

Harry had a secret. Not a single soul knew about it other than him. For as long as he could remember, Harry loved to steal things. Small things, big things, common things, expensive things—it didn't matter. The only rule he had was that the person he stole from had to deserve it. Bullies were his favorite target. The more power they had, the better.

And tonight, on his birthday, as another gift to himself, he was going to pull off the greatest heist that his 10-year-old mind could come up with. He was going to break into the school and get back at the biggest bully he knew of: his teacher. Mrs. Violet was a bully, plain and simple. Why she had chosen to be a teacher when she clearly hated children was beyond Harry's comprehension. She picked on the students relentlessly, called them stupid when they answered incorrectly, and was the only teacher that Harry couldn't seem to win over. But tonight wasn't about that. No, it was about something much worse in Harry's mind.

Her most recent crime had nothing to do with Harry but involved another girl named Prity. She had refused to give a hall pass to Prity when she very clearly needed to use the restroom. And when Prity peed herself, rather than apologize for the mistake, Mrs. Violet made her stand in front of the class in her wet clothes and write lines. Harry couldn't fathom dealing with the humiliation of such an act. He shuddered at the memory.

Lost in his thoughts of revenge, he didn't realize he had almost made it to the park. He needed to stop there before heading to the school.

Surrounding the south and west sides of the park was a small wooded area in the space between the neighborhood and the park. From an outsider's perspective, there was nothing noteworthy about the place. It was as mundane as the surrounding neighborhood. But Harry knew better. He walked into the treeline and toward a small cove of trees, stopping seemingly at random. He leaned down and pulled open a trapdoor. Harry had discovered this place by accident a couple of summers ago. He'd been running from Dudley and his gang when he suddenly fell into a hole in the ground. Harry figured that a negligent developer had failed to fill in this area properly, and after some time, the roof weakened enough for him to fall through. Dudley and his gang never found him, and after a lot of effort, Harry climbed out of the hole. He returned later with some supplies and hollowed out the hole even further. He'd used fallen tree limbs from the surrounding trees to line the dirt walls and ceiling and built himself a nice little ladder. He'd covered the hole with some scrap plywood and put a bunch of leaves and dirt over it so it blended in with the surrounding area. No one ever came back here, really. Harry was one of the few kids that spent time outdoors.

Harry climbed down the ladder, leaving the door open since he wasn't staying, and surveyed his hideout. It looked the same as it always did, but… he couldn't put his finger on it. Something just felt off. All of his stuff was here, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone other than him had been down here recently. Unable to find anything out of place or missing, Harry shrugged and grabbed what he'd come for in the first place: his fanny pack theft kit and some keys.

He'd gotten the keys one Monday morning a few weeks ago before the end of the school year. Harry had been walking down the hall after using the restroom and had heard snoring coming from a supply closet. He'd opened the door and found the janitor laying there with his hat covering his eyes. He could still remember the foul smell of alcohol coming off the guy, who was probably sleeping off a hangover. It was too easy, and Harry couldn't help but take advantage of his luck. He grabbed the keys and gingerly placed them in his backpack, careful not to let them jingle. He didn't need the keys at the time, but the janitor was a grouchy old man who yelled at the kids. He deserved to be one of his victims, Harry had decided.

The fanny pack he'd nicked from Dudley's second bedroom was a discarded gift. He'd filled it with hairpins, some tape, a flashlight, and other odds and ends from the shed, then taken it to his hideout to store until he needed it.

Harry climbed back up the ladder and closed the door. He checked his watch. It was only 12:20 AM. He'd only been out of the house for a few minutes, but it felt much longer. He still had plenty of time to pull off his heist. He might even get a little bit of sleep tonight.

He walked back through the park and to the street. The school wasn't far from there. Harry had been going to this school for four years now and knew it like the back of his hand. He walked around the school and toward the loading dock, where trucks dropped off food and supplies. It was a well-covered area, and he didn't need to worry about being seen from one of the homes in the neighborhood. He fished out the keys and tried them one by one until one opened the door. The door creaked loudly, and he flinched. He didn't think anyone would be there to hear it, but he wasn't sure. He decided that speed was probably more important than stealth at this point. In and out as soon as possible.

Mrs. Violet's classroom wasn't far from the cafeteria, and Harry soon found himself just outside the classroom. He hoped this trip would be fruitful. It was summer, after all, and Mrs. Violet could have taken her belongings home until the next school year. He gingerly opened the door and slid inside before shutting it behind him. He walked toward his teacher's desk, where he knew she kept one of her most prized possessions. On the desk, he gazed at his prize, relieved.

It was a very nice pen set. Not something he would normally care about, but he knew it was important to her and probably quite valuable. She had bragged to the students and staff that some renowned professor had given it to her himself. Harry didn't know who the professor was, but all the teachers were impressed when Mrs. Violet told them. He placed the pen set in his fanny pack and grinned at the dust line left behind at the now-missing object. It was one of the simplest things, but it brought him so much happiness to see evidence of the vacant object.

Harry was on his way back toward the classroom door when he heard a man walking by with a flashlight. 'It must be the security officer,' Harry thought before quickly ducking and leaning against the wall near the door. He saw the man shine the flashlight through the small window in the door and held his breath. The beam of light shone right where Harry had been standing seconds before. A few moments later, the man was back on his way down the hall. 'That was too close,' he thought to himself as he exhaled. His heart was racing. He loved this. It was exhilarating.

Harry waited a few more seconds before opening the door. He could hear the man walking away around the corner. He ran as fast as he could back toward the cafeteria while still being quiet. He made it outside without issue. Harry took a deep breath and smiled to himself. Another successful heist.

Harry walked back toward his hideout in the park, reminiscing about past heists he'd pulled off. He had been planning this particular 'job' for weeks and was so glad to have it pay off. Nearly being caught actually made it even more fun for Harry. It was thrilling. His heart was still racing when he walked past the playground, a smile plastered on his face.

He walked over to his hideout, opened the trapdoor, climbed down the ladder, turned around, and ran into something… no, someone! He stumbled backward until his back was up against the ladder. Harry could see the outline of the person as they reached toward the small tree table and turned on the lantern. Harry's eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden light. He blinked a few times and found himself looking at the familiar face of…

"Mrs. Figg?" Harry asked. "What are you doing down here?" He could hear the confusion and frustration in his voice. He'd worked so hard to maintain a certain image, and all of that was now at risk. He didn't understand why 'Old Mrs. Figg' was standing here in his hideout with a smile on her face. Why was she smiling?

"Can you think of no reason for me to be down here, Harry?" she asked him.

Harry paused, thinking. Then he remembered. Just last Friday, he had been over at Mrs. Figg's house helping her with some errands. He had taken something of hers. He couldn't help it; it was like the small figurine was calling to him, and he broke his rule. Harry's shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch before he pulled on his cool exterior. The momentary shock he had felt was replaced by resolve.

"Thinking of lying to me, laddie?" Mrs. Figg asked him.

'How did she know?' he wondered. Harry had, in fact, been working on a cover at that moment.

Mrs. Figg walked over toward one of Harry's makeshift shelves and opened one of his many containers. Harry wanted to stop her but couldn't see any way out of this. He'd have to ride this out and see where it went. She seemed more amused than angry, he reckoned. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. He watched as she reached her hand in and took out a small porcelain figurine of a cat with its paw raised and a gold coin in its mouth. "This," she said with a steely voice, "is mine, and I'd thank you to not swipe my things in the future."

Harry watched as she walked toward him. He noticed that she had a small smirk and was looking at him with her head tilted to the side as if she were studying him. The silence continued as they stared at one another.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, she said, "I'll forgive you this time, laddie, but it will require a favor and a promise to never steal something of mine again."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and asked, "What kind of favor, Mrs. Figg?" He couldn't believe his luck. She was willing to let it go? She wasn't going to turn him in? He very much wanted to know how she knew that he'd taken it and how she had found his hideout, but he held his tongue. For now.

"Straight to the point, just like your mother," Mrs. Figg said.

Harry flinched. "You knew my mother?" he asked. He was strangely happy to be compared to her, even though he never knew her. He was suddenly very glad that he'd staved off asking his other questions.

"Indeed I did," she replied. "And if you do this favor properly, I'll happily tell you all about it."

Harry couldn't believe his luck. Not only was he not in trouble, but now Mrs. Figg had revealed that she knew his mother. No one was ever willing to talk to him about his parents, and he was starved for any information that wasn't tarnished by Aunt Petunia's obvious jealousy. It all seemed to rely on this favor, though… He hoped it wasn't something terribly difficult or distasteful.

"What do you need me to do?" he said.

Mrs. Figg smiled wickedly. "You aren't the only person to have stolen something from me in the last couple of days, it turns out. Normally, I'd handle this myself, but I find myself curious about you. This is a perfect chance for me to learn more." She looked around his hideout and gestured to his trophies before continuing, "I'm impressed, Harry. I'm not going to lie. I had no idea that you were… anything other than what you portray to everyone else. That is…" she paused, "not until you made the mistake of stealing from me." Harry could see an angry glint in her eye, and he swallowed. Apparently, he wasn't the only person wearing a mask on Privet Drive.

"Who are you?" he asked her before he could stop himself. He was at least proud that his voice didn't tremble from his nerves.

Mrs. Figg laughed, and much of her frustration and hardness seemed to evaporate away. "I'm 'Old Mrs. Figg,' laddie. The neighborhood crazy cat lady who can't manage anything on her own and needs to ask for help constantly." Harry smiled. That was almost exactly how his aunt and uncle talked about her at home.

"Play your cards right, and I might just tell you more, Harry," she said. "But right now, I'm still a bit peeved at you for stealing from me. You need to earn my forgiveness before we go any further."

Harry paused. She had so easily put him at ease and then back on edge within seconds. She reminded him of a cat. If he had to use a word to describe her at this moment, it was capricious. She was playing with him like a mouse. He would need to be careful not to find himself caught in her trap in the future.

"Right," he said. "What do you need me to do?"

"As I was saying," she said, "you aren't the only person to have stolen from me recently." She sneered in disbelief before continuing, "I want you to steal it back. I've had my eye on you tonight, and I think this is within your skill level to handle."

Harry couldn't believe it. How had she been watching him? He hadn't seen any sign of her at all. All of these revelations about Mrs. Figg were maddening, and he knew at that moment that he hadn't been nearly as careful as he thought. He needed to know how she had been watching him if he was going to do better in the future. At this point, he'd do just about anything to be in her good graces. Maybe then she would let him know just how she had discovered his secrets.

Mrs. Figg continued, oblivious to his racing thoughts, "The neighbor down the street, Miss Koshkov, bought one of my kittens a couple of days ago. She was supposed to pay me 500 pounds, but she only paid me 200. I've been trying to get it from her, but she says she won't pay any more than that." She paused, collecting her bearings before continuing, "I suppose she figures that poor 'old Mrs. Figg' can't or won't do anything about it, but she's wrong!"

Harry's eyes widened. This was not the 'Old Mrs. Figg' he knew. This woman was scary. He was impressed at how she had fooled everyone around her.

"I want you to sneak into her house and get the kitten back," she said.

Harry smiled and said simply, "I'd love to." He glanced at his watch. It was still only 2:00 AM. He wondered if he could squeeze this in tonight. He was feeling rather impatient and wanted to know more about how Mrs. Figg had known he had stolen the figurine and how she knew his mother. He didn't know which he wanted to know more. He wasn't likely to get much sleep tonight after all of these revelations.

Mrs. Figg smiled at him. "You really are so much like your mother. She didn't mince words, that one. So very clever and capable. She'd be proud of who you've become so far, and you're only 10 years old." She shook her head solemnly. "Happy birthday, by the way."

Harry was shocked that she knew it was his birthday. He was tempted to ask her for more but decided against it. There would be time for that later. Instead, he just said, "I'll get your kitten, Mrs. Figg. I'll meet you at your house shortly."

Mrs. Figg nodded, handed him the container that he'd used to store the cat figurine, and climbed the ladder. Harry took the container and placed it back on the shelf. He shook his head in disbelief once again and then climbed the ladder out. When he cleared the trapdoor, Mrs. Figg was nowhere in sight. 'Good thing I know where Miss Koshkov's house is,' he thought to himself. He closed the door and made sure it blended into the surroundings. Satisfied, he walked toward Magnolia Road. It was opposite the way he'd entered the park. Miss Koshkov lived on the opposite end of the neighborhood from his relatives, and he needed to hurry if he was going to make it in time.

Harry clung to the shadows and avoided the lamp posts that lined the street. He was on high alert after Mrs. Figg had discovered him tonight. He was determined that there would be no more surprises. Soon enough, he found himself in front of Miss Koshkov's house.

All the lights were out. The good thing about this neighborhood was that almost all of the houses had the same layout with only very small variations. He knew where the master bedroom was and all the easy ways in and out of the house. This should be fairly easy as long as one of the windows or doors was unlocked.

Harry decided to try the back door first. He didn't want to be seen on the front porch. He made his way to the side gate and tried the latch. No lock. Great! He opened the gate without a creak. Harry sighed in relief and made his way to the back door. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. He wasn't surprised. The door wasn't the only way in. Harry looked up and scanned the windows. The Dursleys left some of their windows open all night in the summer, and he reckoned that Miss Koshkov did the same.

Sure enough, Harry found his way in on the second floor on the side of the house. There was no easy way up, however. Undeterred, Harry made his way to the back of the house. He saw a shed. Maybe there was a ladder in there. He made his way to the door, and sure enough, it was unlocked. He couldn't see inside for the life of him, though, and had to fish out his flashlight from his fanny pack. He turned it on and scanned the room quickly. He found a ladder laying on the ground against the wall opposite him. He very quietly snuck it out of the shed and set it up just beneath the open window on the side of the house. If Miss Koshkov's house was the same floor plan as the Dursleys', then this would be the bathroom window. He climbed the ladder, flinching as each step made a sound.

Sure enough, it was in fact a bathroom window. Harry prayed to the gods that he wouldn't be discovered and climbed through. The window was right next to the toilet, and luckily for him—unluckily for Mrs. Koshkov—she had terrible taste in decorating and had one of those ugly toilet seat covers with frilly fabric. It cushioned the sound as Harry used it to climb down from the window. Harry stopped and listened for any indication he'd been heard. After a long pause and no sign that anyone was awake, he moved out of the bathroom and into the hall.

Where would he be if he were a kitten? he wondered to himself. Harry had spent enough time at Mrs. Figg's to know that she only sold cats once they were old enough to be house-trained and weaned off their mother's milk, so he guessed that the cat box was likely downstairs, either in with the laundry or another closet. He snuck down the stairs, flinching when he made a creak on one of the steps. It was impossible to know which steps would creak in each house. Harry vowed to discover a way to climb stairs without making noise.

Harry found himself in the kitchen and couldn't believe his luck. Right on the floor, surrounded by baby gates, was the kitten and a cat box. Mrs. Figg must have sold this one a little earlier than normal, he thought. The kitten looked up at him and meowed quietly. "Who's a good kitty?" he said as he leaned down and scooped the kitten up. He continued to make silly noises to the kitten to help it remain calm.

Harry scanned the kitchen and noticed a rather large purse on the kitchen table. It would be perfect for carrying the kitten down the ladder. He contemplated leaving out the front door, but he wanted to remove any signs of how he got in. Leave no trace and all that. He put the purse over his shoulder and then placed the kitten inside gently. The kitten meowed loudly. Panicked, Harry scanned the kitchen again and made his way to the garbage. He removed the lid and found a can of cat food. There was still a bit of food left in it, so he snatched it up and put it in the bag with the kitten. The meowing stopped as the kitten began to eat the food.

There wasn't much food in the can, so Harry needed to hurry. He slipped back up the stairs, careful to avoid the step that creaked last time. He went through the bathroom and climbed back out the window. It was much more difficult with the bag, but he managed. Once back on the ground, he quickly put the ladder back in the shed. Outside of the shed, he took a breath and scanned the yard. There was no indication he'd been here at all. Happy with his work, he made his way to the side gate and crept out of the backyard the same way he came in.

It took almost no time for him to make it down Magnolia Road, and he was soon turning onto Wisteria Walk. Luckily, Mrs. Figg lived on this street, on the end closest to Privet Drive, so it was on his way home anyway. Harry opened the bag to check on the kitten. To his delight, he discovered it had snuggled in and was sleeping contentedly. He walked the rest of the way down the street in the dark. He checked his watch on the way. It was 2:30 AM, and no one in the neighborhood was likely to be awake. Still, Harry remained vigilant as he made his way to Mrs. Figg's house. When he got to the front door, he raised his hand to knock quietly, but it opened before he could knock his first knock. Mrs. Figg's hand reached out from the barely open doorway and held out her hand expectantly. Harry chuckled at her antics, shrugged off the bag, and placed the strap in her hand.

It didn't seem to be what she was expecting. Her hand jerked at the contact of the leather strap, but she recovered and pulled it inside. Harry heard her say, "I'll be in contact soon," before she shut the door.

His job done, he quickly walked the rest of the way back to his relatives' home and walked back in through the front door. He carefully set the lock.

He crept back into his room, exhausted, and lay on his cot with a smile on his face. His birthday was a success. He couldn't imagine anything could ruin it. No one was going to prevent him from getting what he wanted. Even with the cards stacked against him, and even if he had to work harder than anyone else, Harry always got what he wanted eventually.

A/N - cleaned up 11/11/24