Chapter 1
With Mrs. Figg
Harry Potter was a most unusual boy, living in a drearily normal house, with a very boring, yet what most people would deem a very normal family.
Most residents of Surrey would awake on this hot July day and have themselves a pleasant normal day. However, this was anything but the case at Number 4, Privet Drive, where the day had begun as anything but normal.
Harry Potter, now sixteen years old, lying upon his bed in his room, was startled as he heard three booming resounding crashes in the hallway. He shrugged, dismissing the racket. Probably just Dudley throwing his suitcases down the stairs again, Harry thought. Harry's guess was confirmed moments later, when he heard Dudley whine most unconvincingly to his mother that his suitcases were far too heavy for him to carry down the steps. Harry was not at all surprised when he heard his Aunt Petunia beg her portly son to take a break from his morning's labor. Honestly, thought Harry in disgust.
Harry stayed in his room as long as he could, making sure that he wouldn't have to cart Dudley's luggage down for him. But, when his stomach began to rumble, he decided to make his way to the kitchen.
"You're late," Aunt Petunia growled, staring down her long thin nose at him. "And, as such, there'll be no food for you."
Harry grinned, which a surprising response to his Aunt's comment. "Now, really, Aunt Petunia," Harry began in a quiet dramatic voice. "I hardly think you'd want Professor Moody, Professor Lupin, or my friend Tonks to know that you're starving me now, would you? Of course, it has been a while since they last visited so..."
Aunt Petunia only shivered, and moved away from the refrigerator, her face now pale.
So it was that Harry made his way out to the Dursley's sedan eating a big and tasty red apple. Harry knew that the Dursleys had won a vacation to the island of Mallorca, and as that were the case, Harry was going to stay with Mrs. Figg until his school year started. Harry looked forward to having a good time this stay, since last year he had found out that Mrs. Figg was in reality a Squib. The problem was that he had to convince the Dursleys that he still hated the idea.
Mrs. Figg was waiting outside for the Dursleys and Harry to meet with her. Harry saw Mrs. Figg make a sour-looking face at him, so that the Dursleys didn't expect anything. While the Dursley's spoke loudly to Mrs. Figg about their upcoming trip, she made her way over to Harry to speak privately with him a moment.
"Welcome, Harry dear," she said quietly. "Go on, now, inside with you. Be sure to wipe your feet on the rug, and then put your things in your room, upstairs, first door on your right. Oh, and don't you DARE touch a thing while I'm talking with your Aunt and Uncle, you hear?"
Harry stood there feeling a bit confused. Either Mrs. Figg was a very good actress, or she had clearly forgotten everything that happened last year. With a weary shrug, Harry did as Mrs. Figg had bade him to do, and went into the living room. There, he saw all of Mrs. Figg's cats lounging about or playing. Much to his surprise, he also noticed she had a new cat, one he'd never seen before. This particular cat was a svelte striped grey tabby cat. Harry watched the new cat, then frowned as he could of sworn he recognized it peculiar markings around its eyes.
Harry grinned. "Good morning, Professor McGonnagal," he said by way of greeting. The cat sat down on her haunches a moment, and smiled at him. Right before his eyes the small grey tabby tranfigured itself into the familiar shape of his Transfigurations teacher, Professor Minerva McGonnagal.
"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she returned with a polite nod of her proud head.
"I see that the Order is still keeping an eye on me then, eh?" Harry asked, peering at her through his round spectacles.
"Actually, no, Potter. Not really," Professor McGonnagal replied. "I am here as both Professor Dumbledore and Poppy have instructed me to take a rest. Goodness me, it's not like I've never been stunned before, you know. The way those two talk they'll next be telling me I cannot resume my duties at Hogwarts." The strict yet kindly Professor's thin lips nearly disappeared in her displeasure at that particular thought.
"But, Professor...you do still work at Hogwarts, don´t you?" Harry asked, just a bit worried.
"Silly boy, of course I do," McGonnagal chided him.
Their conversation was interrupted by the return of Mrs. Figg, who looked a bit peaked when she came back inside. "A bit of a change in plans, Harry dear," she informed him. "I've been summoned to a Squib conference in Norway, so I'm afraid that I cannot take care of you this summer.
"So it would probably be best, I think, for you to ask one of your school friends if you may stay with them for the summer."
"Well, okay. In that case, I'll need Hedwig," Harry declared, somewhat at a loss. He turned and headed up to his room to fetch his majestic white snowy owl. "I suppose I could ask Ron," he said upon his return.
"Just Mr. Weasley?" McGonnagal asked, arching one eyebrow at him. "What of Ms. Granger?"
"Hmm, I guess you're right, Professor. I'll write to Hermione as well." Harry copied the letter he prepared for Ron to send with Hedwig to Hermione. "Well, Arabella, I suppose I should be going," McGonnagal said. "I've a few things I still have to do before the summer's end." She got to her feet in preparation to leaving.
"Wait one minute, Minerva," Mrs. Figg demanded suddenly, though kindly.
Professor MacGonnagal turned around, sighing.
"I think you´ll be needing this," Mrs. Figg said, holding out the cane Harry had seen Professor MacGonnagal use before when she came home from St. Mungo's.
"Do you really still need that, Professor?" Harry asked.
"Regretfully, yes, Mr. Potter. Though, I may stop using it when the school begins again," McGonnagal informed him, then she nodded, and left. "Good day to you both," the irritated Professor declared, then there a distinctive bang that occurred when a wizard or witch disapperated.
Mrs. Figg then looked over at Harry. "You've got the day ahead of you, Harry. Though it is still rather early. You should try to get some sleep, Harry," Mrs. Figg suggested. Harry nodded in agreement, and headed up the stairs to bed.
With Mrs. Figg
Harry Potter was a most unusual boy, living in a drearily normal house, with a very boring, yet what most people would deem a very normal family.
Most residents of Surrey would awake on this hot July day and have themselves a pleasant normal day. However, this was anything but the case at Number 4, Privet Drive, where the day had begun as anything but normal.
Harry Potter, now sixteen years old, lying upon his bed in his room, was startled as he heard three booming resounding crashes in the hallway. He shrugged, dismissing the racket. Probably just Dudley throwing his suitcases down the stairs again, Harry thought. Harry's guess was confirmed moments later, when he heard Dudley whine most unconvincingly to his mother that his suitcases were far too heavy for him to carry down the steps. Harry was not at all surprised when he heard his Aunt Petunia beg her portly son to take a break from his morning's labor. Honestly, thought Harry in disgust.
Harry stayed in his room as long as he could, making sure that he wouldn't have to cart Dudley's luggage down for him. But, when his stomach began to rumble, he decided to make his way to the kitchen.
"You're late," Aunt Petunia growled, staring down her long thin nose at him. "And, as such, there'll be no food for you."
Harry grinned, which a surprising response to his Aunt's comment. "Now, really, Aunt Petunia," Harry began in a quiet dramatic voice. "I hardly think you'd want Professor Moody, Professor Lupin, or my friend Tonks to know that you're starving me now, would you? Of course, it has been a while since they last visited so..."
Aunt Petunia only shivered, and moved away from the refrigerator, her face now pale.
So it was that Harry made his way out to the Dursley's sedan eating a big and tasty red apple. Harry knew that the Dursleys had won a vacation to the island of Mallorca, and as that were the case, Harry was going to stay with Mrs. Figg until his school year started. Harry looked forward to having a good time this stay, since last year he had found out that Mrs. Figg was in reality a Squib. The problem was that he had to convince the Dursleys that he still hated the idea.
Mrs. Figg was waiting outside for the Dursleys and Harry to meet with her. Harry saw Mrs. Figg make a sour-looking face at him, so that the Dursleys didn't expect anything. While the Dursley's spoke loudly to Mrs. Figg about their upcoming trip, she made her way over to Harry to speak privately with him a moment.
"Welcome, Harry dear," she said quietly. "Go on, now, inside with you. Be sure to wipe your feet on the rug, and then put your things in your room, upstairs, first door on your right. Oh, and don't you DARE touch a thing while I'm talking with your Aunt and Uncle, you hear?"
Harry stood there feeling a bit confused. Either Mrs. Figg was a very good actress, or she had clearly forgotten everything that happened last year. With a weary shrug, Harry did as Mrs. Figg had bade him to do, and went into the living room. There, he saw all of Mrs. Figg's cats lounging about or playing. Much to his surprise, he also noticed she had a new cat, one he'd never seen before. This particular cat was a svelte striped grey tabby cat. Harry watched the new cat, then frowned as he could of sworn he recognized it peculiar markings around its eyes.
Harry grinned. "Good morning, Professor McGonnagal," he said by way of greeting. The cat sat down on her haunches a moment, and smiled at him. Right before his eyes the small grey tabby tranfigured itself into the familiar shape of his Transfigurations teacher, Professor Minerva McGonnagal.
"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she returned with a polite nod of her proud head.
"I see that the Order is still keeping an eye on me then, eh?" Harry asked, peering at her through his round spectacles.
"Actually, no, Potter. Not really," Professor McGonnagal replied. "I am here as both Professor Dumbledore and Poppy have instructed me to take a rest. Goodness me, it's not like I've never been stunned before, you know. The way those two talk they'll next be telling me I cannot resume my duties at Hogwarts." The strict yet kindly Professor's thin lips nearly disappeared in her displeasure at that particular thought.
"But, Professor...you do still work at Hogwarts, don´t you?" Harry asked, just a bit worried.
"Silly boy, of course I do," McGonnagal chided him.
Their conversation was interrupted by the return of Mrs. Figg, who looked a bit peaked when she came back inside. "A bit of a change in plans, Harry dear," she informed him. "I've been summoned to a Squib conference in Norway, so I'm afraid that I cannot take care of you this summer.
"So it would probably be best, I think, for you to ask one of your school friends if you may stay with them for the summer."
"Well, okay. In that case, I'll need Hedwig," Harry declared, somewhat at a loss. He turned and headed up to his room to fetch his majestic white snowy owl. "I suppose I could ask Ron," he said upon his return.
"Just Mr. Weasley?" McGonnagal asked, arching one eyebrow at him. "What of Ms. Granger?"
"Hmm, I guess you're right, Professor. I'll write to Hermione as well." Harry copied the letter he prepared for Ron to send with Hedwig to Hermione. "Well, Arabella, I suppose I should be going," McGonnagal said. "I've a few things I still have to do before the summer's end." She got to her feet in preparation to leaving.
"Wait one minute, Minerva," Mrs. Figg demanded suddenly, though kindly.
Professor MacGonnagal turned around, sighing.
"I think you´ll be needing this," Mrs. Figg said, holding out the cane Harry had seen Professor MacGonnagal use before when she came home from St. Mungo's.
"Do you really still need that, Professor?" Harry asked.
"Regretfully, yes, Mr. Potter. Though, I may stop using it when the school begins again," McGonnagal informed him, then she nodded, and left. "Good day to you both," the irritated Professor declared, then there a distinctive bang that occurred when a wizard or witch disapperated.
Mrs. Figg then looked over at Harry. "You've got the day ahead of you, Harry. Though it is still rather early. You should try to get some sleep, Harry," Mrs. Figg suggested. Harry nodded in agreement, and headed up the stairs to bed.