Whatever the Weather
by Healer Pomfrey

All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.
I am not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes.

Eight-year-old Harry Potter pulled his small baby blanket firmly over his head, knowing that the snow storm was going to commence now any second.

Since he could remember, he had been able to control the weather. While he usually liked sunshine, even if he did not get to see much of it in his small cupboard, as soon as he became really upset about something or someone, he used to make it rain. At first, it had not even been intentionally, however, by now it had become his small revenge to make rain or wind come up around the Dursleys' garden after a bad scolding or even a light beating by the hands of his relatives.

HP

On this evening, Aunt Petunia had hit him on the head with the hot frying pan because he had accidentally burned the sausages for the Dursleys' dinner. It was not as if he would have gotten to eat at least one of the sausages himself, however, he was the one to cook them, as usual. When he ended up holding his hurting head instead of apologizing and somehow remedying the matter - something that according to his uncle a freak had to be able to do - Uncle Vernon had shoved him into his cupboard, not caring that the child had not received anything for dinner.

"Tomorrow morning, Dudley, Uncle Vernon and I are going to go on holidays for three weeks," his aunt had informed him before closing the cupboard door. "I'll leave a list with your chores on the table."

"Yes," Harry had replied in understanding, holding his head in pain.

HP

'They won't go on holidays in the morning,' he thought, grimly, when he heard the first thunder shake the house. Even if he could not see the snow from his cupboard, he knew that it was heavily snowing outside in spite of being the beginning of July. When he woke up in the morning, he could hear the sound of the neighbours shovelling snow.

Suddenly, Petunia stuck her head inside the cupboard. "Get up, lazybones, make breakfast and shovel snow. We're not going on holidays today, as the roads are completely snowed in," she informed him.

Efficiently managing to hide a grin, Harry obediently replied, "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

While Harry made breakfast for his relatives, the Dursleys gathered around the kitchen table, obviously in a bad mood.

"Why can't we go on holidays?" Dudley shouted in clear disappointment, banging his fork against the table.

"Because it's snowing a lot," Petunia replied, patiently, for the umpteenth time on this summer morning.

"I wonder why it's snowing now. It's supposed to be summer," Vernon roared.

Concentrating on moving the scrambled egg onto a plate, Harry was unable to hide a grin, causing his uncle to see red.

"Do you think that it's funny that we can't go on holidays?" he shouted, waving his fists at the small boy in front of him.

"No no Uncle Vernon," Harry hurried to assure the large man, anxiously placing the plate on the table.

"Boy," Petunia spoke up. "Go to Mrs. Figg and help her with the garden work today. Stay out of our way for the day."

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry replied, obediently, eyeing his aunt in surprise. 'How am I supposed to do garden work when it's snowing?' he wondered, however, knowing that he was not entitled to ask questions, he hurriedly left the house, glad to get away from his enraged uncle and cousin for a while. 'They even forgot that I was supposed to shovel snow,' he realised, and a small grin played on his lips as he crossed the street and knocked at Mrs. Figg's door.

HP

"Harry," the old 'cat lady' - as he used to call her - greeted him in apparent surprise. "How nice of you to visit me on this crazy morning."

"Aunt Petunia told me to visit you and help you with garden work," Harry replied, hesitantly. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

"Ah Harry, you never disturb me, you're always welcome to visit me, even if we can't do anything in the garden today," Mrs. Figg replied, gently.

"Shall I shovel the snow in front of your door?" Harry offered, causing the old lady to cast him a grateful look.

"That would be very kind of you if you don't mind," she replied, smiling.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was finished and gladly followed Mrs. Figg inside, realising that it was uncomfortably cold outside, especially without any coat or jacket whatsoever.

"Let's have some hot cocoa," Mrs. Figg suggested, and Harry happily agreed, knowing that he was always allowed to eat and drink whatever was on the table, when he visited the kind, old lady.

Harry spent the whole day at the cat lady's house. When she noticed that Harry seemed to be tired and not his usual self, she gave him a sharp look and asked, "Are you feeling all right, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry lied, knowing better than to complain.

"Why don't you sit here on the sofa and take some rest or read a book?" Mrs. Figg suggested and placed a very thick book in front of the boy: 'Hogwarts: A History'.

'A book for me to read?' Harry thought in disbelief. He loved to read, but at the Dursleys it was impossible for him to lay his hands on a book. Soon he was engrossed in his lecture, which turned out to be very interesting.

HP

During the following three weeks, Harry visited Mrs. Figg every day, feeling very reassured that the cat lady explicitly invited him to come back in the morning. To his great pleasure, she did not make him look at her photo albums of cats like she had done so often in the past, however, she allowed him to sit on the sofa and continue reading her book, as soon as he had finished shovelling snow. Unbeknownst to the boy, she was slightly concerned about him, realising that he seemed slightly unwell in spite of the fact that he denied it whenever she asked.

She was just pondering if she should ask Poppy Pomfrey to come over and take a look at the child, when Harry replied to her usual question, "I'll be all right. It'll be better next week."

Mrs. Figg gave the boy a surprised look. "How do you know that sweetie?" she enquired in a soft voice.

Harry shrugged. "I just know it. It's going to stop snowing, and school's going to begin next week," he replied, absentmindedly, his thoughts still lingering on the information that he had just read in the book.

"Are you able to look into the future?" Mrs. Figg asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

"No," Harry replied, shaking his head in confusion. "Excuse me Mrs. Figg," he hesitantly changed the topic, "could we speak about what's in this book please?"

"Of course sweetheart," Mrs. Figg replied, gently, before she said, thoughtfully, "You may speak with me about everything dear, however, maybe it's better if you don't tell the Dursleys about this book and about our conversations."

"I won't," Harry promised, smiling. "They don't speak with me anyway," he added as an afterthought.

"Do you have questions?" the cat lady asked, kindly.

"Yes," Harry replied, wondering how to ask. "Does magic exist?" he finally blurted out. "The Dursleys have told me that there is no such thing like magic, however, in the book..." He slowly trailed off, casting the old lady a questioning look.

"Magic is real, Harry, and you're a wizard, just like your parents were witches and wizards too," Mrs. Figg informed him in a quiet voice. Seeing Harry stare at her in disbelief, she added, "The Dursleys probably don't want you to know, either because they're scared of magic or because they're jealous."

"Oh all right," Harry said as understanding set in. 'They don't want me to realise what I could do to them if they hurt me,' he thought. "Is that why they call me a freak?"

"I think so," Mrs. Figg confirmed, nodding. "You're not a freak in any way though, Harry. You're a very fine boy, and one day, you'll be a powerful wizard."

Harry and his babysitter talked for hours, and the old lady told him everything that she knew about Voldemort, his Death Eaters, Harry's parents, Hogwarts and magic.

HP

Later the same day, it suddenly stopped snowing, to the great relief of the people all over the South of England, where it had snowed for the last three weeks of the summer holidays. Unbeknownst to harry, meteorologists all over the world wondered how it could snow in the South of England, although the North as well as Wales and Scotland were enjoying beautiful summer weather. Even the Ministry of Magic was enquiring about the matter; however, so far there was no hint that any wizard or witch had been involved in the matter.

HP

To Arabella Figg's surprise, the weather improved greatly and with it Harry's condition, making the old lady wonder if the small boy was indeed a seer.

Knowing that he was a wizard and not a freak made Harry feel much better and self worthy, no matter what the Dursleys told him. 'Being able to control the weather must be part of my being a wizard,' he realised and worked on carefully experimenting with his ability. During the following two years, he practised, for example, making lightning strike exactly where he wanted it. Not only once, but at least three times it happened that a near-by tree was set to fire by lightning, when Dudley and his friends played their favourite game of Harry hunting. To Harry's amusement, Dudley was too stupid to realise the connection between the lightning and his occupation at the time when it occurred.

HP

Neither did the Dursleys realise that it was their nephews fault that a tornado destroyed parts of the outer wall towards the garden and only ceased when he unobtrusively managed to grab one of the Hogwarts letters that were addressed to him.

He stole himself back into his cupboard, where he eagerly opened his letter and skimmed it with growing excitement. 'I'm going to get to go to Hogwarts,' he thought, happily. 'I can't wait to be able to go there. Oh wow, the letter is from Professor McGonagall,' he noticed. 'How cool is that?' By now he had read the book 'Hogwarts: A History' about ten times, and of course he knew everything about the Gryffindor head that was written in the book.

Pulling a pen and a piece of paper out of his school bag, he hurriedly scribbled a reply and resolved to ask Mrs. Figg, how he could send his letter and where to buy his school supplies. 'Maybe I could look for a holiday job to earn some money for the school things,' he thought.

However, Mrs. Figg reassured him that he possessed enough money at Gringotts for everything that he needed and promised to take him to Diagon Alley and help him buy what his school supplies.

"As soon as that awful storm stops, I'll take you there," she told him, causing Harry to smile broadly.

Harry stared at the window, seeing heavy clouds covering the sky, while the trees outside were shaking forwards and backwards in the strong wind. Feeling so safe and reassured at the cat lady's place, he did not even try to hide what he was doing but just smiled. All of a sudden, the clouds were driven away like by an invisible force. Blue sky appeared all over the South of England, and sunshine began to dry the overflooded gardens. Harry tiredly let himself sink onto the sofa.

"Harry?" Mrs. Figg asked, staring at him in disbelief.

"Can we go now?" Harry replied, questioningly, casting the old lady a comforting smile.

"Yes, in a minute," Mrs. Figg replied, absentmindedly, before she enquired, "Harry, are you able to influence the weather?"

"Yes," Harry replied, simply, noticing in surprise that the old lady stared at him with what seemed to be a combination of amazement and disbelief. "Why?" he queried. "Is that not normal for wizards and witches?"

"No Harry," Mrs. Figg informed him in determination. "It's not normal. You're probably the only person alive who can control the weather. This is amazing." In a slightly sterner voice, she continued, "However it seems to afford a lot of magic, and that makes you tired. You must be extremely careful to not use too much magic."

Harry cast the cat lady a frightened look. "Please don't tell anyone about it," he then said in a small voice.

"I won't," Mrs. Figg promised, soothingly. "Just take good care of yourself." Seeing Harry nod, she asked, "Now are you feeling well enough to go to Diagon Alley?"

"Yes," Harry said, excitedly jumping to his feet.

tbc... (if there is interest, otherwise it will only be posted on facebook)