The Dursleys fell silent. Harry listened to a jingle about Fruit 'n' Bran breakfast cereal while he watched Mrs Figg, a batty cat-loving old lady from nearby Wisteria Walk, amble slowly past. She was frowning and muttering to herself. Harry was very pleased he was concealed behind the bush, as Mrs Figg had recently taken to asking him round for tea whenever she met him in the street. She had rounded the corner and vanished from view before Uncle Vernon's voice floated out of the window again.
Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry bent down
to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up, but then he heard loud,
running footsteps behind him. Instinctively raising his wand again, he span
on his heel to face the newcomer.
Mrs Figg, their batty old neighbour, came panting into sight. Her grizzled grey hair was escaping from its hairnet, a clanking string shopping bag was swinging from her wrist and her feet were halfway out of her tartan carpet slippers. Harry made to stow his wand hurriedly out of sight, but -
'Don't put it away idiot boy!' she shrieked. 'What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!'
'What?' said Harry blankly.
'He left!' said Mrs Figg, wringing her hands. 'Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went, and now look! Dementors! It's just lucky I put Mr Tibbies on the case! But we haven't got time to stand around! Hurry, now, we've got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will kill him!'
'But -' The revelation that his batty old cat-obsessed neighbour knew what Dementors were was almost as big a shock to Harry as meeting two of them down the alleyway. 'You're - you're a witch?'
'I'm a Squib, as Mundungus knows full well, so how on earth was I supposed to help you fight off Dementors? He left you completely without cover when I'd warned him -'
'This Mundungus has been following me? Hang on - it was him! He Disapparated from the front of my house!'
'Yes, yes, yes, but luckily I'd stationed Mr Tibbies under a car just in case, and Mr Tibbies came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you'd gone - and now - oh, what's Dumbledore going to say? You!' she shrieked at Dudley, still supine on the alley floor. 'Get your fat bottom off the ground, quick!'
'You know Dumbledore?' said Harry, staring at her.
'Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn't know Dumbledore? But come on - I'll be no help if they come back, I've never so much as Transfigured a teabag.'
She stooped down, seized one of Dudley's massive arms in her wizened hands and tugged.
'Get up, you useless lump, get up!'
But Dudley either could not or would not move. He remained on the ground, trembling and ashen-faced, his mouth shut very tight.
'I'll do it.' Harry took hold of Dudley's arm and heaved. With an enormous effort he managed to hoist him to his feet. Dudley seemed to be on the point of fainting. His small eyes were rolling in their sockets and sweat was beading his face; the moment Harry let go of him he swayed dangerously.
'Hurry up!' said Mrs Figg hysterically.
Harry pulled one of Dudley's massive arms around his own shoulders and dragged him towards the road, sagging slightly under the weight. Mrs Figg tottered along in front of them, peering anxiously around the corner.
'Keep your wand out,' she told Harry, as they entered Wisteria Walk. 'Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery… this was exactly what Dumbledore was afraid of - What's that at the end of the street? Oh, it's just Mr Prentice… don't put your wand away, boy, don't 1 keep telling you I'm no use?'
It was not easy to hold a wand steady and haul Dudley along at the same time. Harry gave his cousin an impatient dig in the ribs, but Dudley seemed to have lost all desire for independent movement. He was slumped on Harry's shoulder, his large feet dragging along the ground.
'Why didn't you tell me you're a Squib, Mrs Figg?' asked Harry, panting with the effort to keep walking. 'All those times I came round your house - why didn't you say anything?'
'Dumbledore's orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I'm sorry I gave you such a miserable time, Harry, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they'd thought you enjoyed it. It wasn't easy, you know… but oh my word,' she said tragically, wringing her hands once more, 'when Dumbledore hears about this - how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight - where is he? How am I going to tell Duumbledore what's happened? I can't Apparate.'
'I've got an owl, you can borrow her.' Harry groaned, wondering whether his spine was going to snap under Dudleys weight.
'Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore will need to act as quickly as possible, the Ministry have their own ways of detecting underage magic, they'll know already, you mark my words.'
'But I was getting rid of Dementors, I had to use magic - they're going to be more worried aboutt what Dementors were doing floating around Wisteria Walk, surely?'
'Oh, my dear, I wish it were so, but I'm afraid - MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!'
There was a loud crack and a strong smell of drink mingled with stale tobacco filled the air as a squat, unshaven man in a tattered overcoat materialised right in front of them. He had short, bandy legs, long straggly ginger hair and bloodshot, baggy eyes that gave him the doleful look of a basset hound. He was also clutching a silvery bundle that Harry recognised at once as an Invisibility Cloak.
'S'up, Figgy?' he said, staring from Mrs Figg to Harry and Dudley. 'What 'appened to staying undercover?'
Til give you undercover]' cried Mrs Figg. 'Dementors, you useless, skiving sneak thief!'
'Dementors?' repeated Mundungus, aghast. 'Dementors, 'ere?'
'Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here!' shrieked Mrs Figg. 'Dementors attacking the boy on your watch!'
'Blimey,' said Mundungus weakly, looking from Mrs Figg to Harry, and back again. 'Blimey, I -'
'And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn't I tell you not to go? Didn't IT
'I - well, I -' Mundungus looked deeply uncomfortable. 'It - it was a very good business opportunity, see -'
Mrs Figg raised the arm from which her string bag dangled and whacked Mundungus around the face and neck with it; judging by the clanking noise it made it was full of cat food.
'Ouch - gerroff - gerroff, you mad old bat! Someone's gotta tell Dumbledore!'
'Yes - they - have!' yelled Mrs Figg, swinging the bag of cat food at every bit of Mundungus she could reach. 'And - it - had
- better - be - you - and - you - can - tell - him - why - you -weren't - there - to - help!'
'Keep your 'airnet on!' said Mundungus, his arms over his head, cowering. 'I'm going, I'm going!'
And with another loud crack, he vanished.
'I hope Dumbledore murders him!' said Mrs Figg furiously. 'Now come on, Harry, what are you waiting for?'
Harry decided not to waste his remaining breath on pointing out that he could barely walk under Dudley's bulk. He gave the semi-conscious Dudley a heave and staggered onwards.
'I'll take you to the door,' said Mrs Figg, as they turned into Privet Drive. 'Just in case there are more of them around… oh my word, what a catastrophe… and you had to fight them off yourself… and Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs… well, it's no good crying over spilt potion, 1 suppose… but the cat's among the pixies now.'
'So,' Harry panted, 'Dumbledore's… been having… me followed?'
'Of course he has,' said Mrs Figg impatiently. 'Did you expect him to let you wander around on your own after what happened in June? Good Lord, boy, they told me you were intelligent… right… get inside and stay there,' she said, as they reached number four. 'I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough.'
'What are you going to do?' asked Harry quickly.
'I'm going straight home,' said Mrs Figg, staring around the dark street and shuddering. 'I'll need to wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house. Goodnight.'
'Hang on, don't go yet! I want to know -
But Mrs Figg had already set off at a trot, carpet slippers flopping, string bag clanking.
'Wait!' Harry shouted after her. He had a million questions
to ask anyone who was in contact with Dumbledore; but within seconds Mrs
Figg was swallowed by the darkness. Scowling, Harry readjusted Dudley on
his shoulder and made his slow, painful way up number four's garden path.
Two seconds of ringing silence followed these words before Aunt Petunia
clapped her hand over her mouth as though she had let slip a disgusting
swear word. Uncle Vernon was goggling at her. Harrys brain reeled. Mrs Figg
was one thing - but Aunt Petunia'?
But Harry was already pulling a roll of parchment from the owl's leg. He
was so convinced that this letter had to be from Dumbledore, explaining
everything - the Dementors, Mrs Figg, what the Ministry was up to, how he,
Dumbledore, intended to sort everything out - that for the first time in
his life he was disappointed to see Sirius's handwriting. Ignoring Uncle
Vernon's ongoing rant about owls, and narrowing his eyes against a second
cloud of dust as the most recent owl look off back up the chimney, Harry
read Sirius's message.
It felt very strange to be standing here in Aunt Petunia's surgically clean
kitchen, beside the top-of-the-range fridge and the wide-screen television,
talking calmly of Lord Voldemort to Uncle Vernon. The arrival of the Dementors
in Little Whinging seemed to have breached the great, invisible wall that
divided the relentlessly non-magical world of Privet Drive and the world
beyond, Harry's two lives had somehow become fused and everything had been
turned upside-down; the Dursleys were asking for details about the magical
world, and Mrs Figg knew Albus Dumbledore; Dementors were soaring around
Little Whinging, and he might never return to Hogwarts. Harry's head throbbed
more painfully.
Up and down he paced, consumed with anger and frustration, grinding his
teeth and clenching his fists, casting angry looks out at the empty, star-strewn
sky every time he passed the window. Dementors sent to get him, Mrs Figg
and Mundungus Fletcher tailing him in secret, then suspension fromHogwarts
and a hearing at the Ministry of Magic - and still no one was telling him
what was going on.
Soon, a series of heavy knives were chopping meat and vegetables of their
own accord, supervised by Mr Weasley, while Mrs Weasley stirred a cauldron
dangling over the fire and the others took out plates, more goblets and
food from the pantry. Harry was left at the table with Sirius and Mundungus,
who was still blinking at him mournfully.
'Seen old Figgy since?' he asked.
'No,' said Harry, 'I haven't seen anyone.'
A moment later, Percy returned, followed by Mrs Figg. She looked scared
and more batty than ever. Harry wished she had thought to change out of
her carpet slippers.
Dumbledore stood up and gave Mrs Figg his chair, conjuring a second one for himself.
'Full name?' said Fudge loudly, when Mrs Figg had perched herself nervously on the very edge of her seal.
'Arabella Doreen Figg,' said Mrs Figg in her quavery voice.
'And who exactly are you?' said Fudge, in a bored and lofty voice.
'I'm a resident of Little Whinging, close to where Harry Potter lives,' said Mrs Figg.
'We have no record of any witch or wizard living in Little Whinging, other than Harry Potter,' said Madam Bones at once. That situation has always been closely monitored, given… given past events.'
'I'm a Squib,' said Mrs Figg. 'So you wouldn't have me registered, would you?'
'A Squib, eh?' said Fudge, eyeing her closely. 'We'll be checking that. You'll leave details of your parentage with my assistant Weasley. Incidentally, can Squibs see Dementors?' he added, looking left and right along the bench.
'Yes, we can!' said Mrs Figg indignantly.
Fudge looked back down at her, his eyebrows raised. 'Very well,' he said aloofly. 'What is your story?'
'I had gone out to buy cat food from the corner shop at the end of Wisteria Walk, around about nine o'clock, on the evening of the second of August,' gabbled Mrs Figg at once, as though she had learned what she was saying by heart, 'when I heard a disturbance down the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. On approaching the mouth of the alleyway I saw Dementors running -'
'Running?' said Madam Bones sharply. 'Dementors don't run, they glide.'
That's what 1 meant to say,' said Mrs Figg quickly, patches of pink appearing in her withered cheeks. 'Gliding along the alley towards what looked like two boys.'
'What did they look like?' said Madam Bones, narrowing her eyes so that the edge of the monocle disappeared into her flesh.
'Well, one was very large and the other one rather skinny -'
'No, no,' said Madam Bones impatiently. 'The Dementors… describe them.'
'Oh,' said Mrs Figg, the pink flush creeping up her neck now. They were big. Big and wearing cloaks.'
Harry felt a horrible sinking in the pit of his stomach. Whatever Mrs Figg might say, it sounded to him as though the most she had ever seen was a picture of a Dementor, and a picture could never convey the truth of what these beings were like: the eerie way they moved, hovering inches over the ground; or the rotting smell of them; or that terrible rattling noise they made as they sucked on the surrounding air…
In the second row, a dumpy wizard with a large black moustache leaned close to whisper in the ear of his neighbour, a frizzy-haired witch. She smirked and nodded.
'Big and wearing cloaks,' repeated Madam Bones coolly, while Fudge snorted derisively. 'I see. Anything else?'
'Yes,' said Mrs Figg. 'I felt them. Everything went cold, and this was a very warm summer's night, mark you. And I felt… as though all happiness had gone from the world… and I remembered… dreadful things…'
Her voice shook and died.
Madam Bones's eyes widened slightly. Harry could see red marks under her eyebrow where the monocle had dug into it.
'What did the Dementors do?' she asked, and Harry felt a rush of hope.
'They went for the boys,' said Mrs Figg, her voice stronger and more confident now, the pink flush ebbing away from her face. 'One of them had fallen. The other was backing away, trying to repel the Dementor. That was Harry. He tried twice and produced only silver vapour. On the third attempt, he produced a Patronus, which charged down the first Dementor and then, with his encouragement, chased the second one away from his cousin. And that that is what happened,' Mrs Figg finished, somewhat lamely.
Madam Bones looked down at Mrs Figg in silence. Fudge was not looking at her at all, but fidgeting with his papers. Finally, he raised his eyes and said, rather aggressively, That's what you saw, is it?'
That is what happened,' Mrs Figg repeated.
'Very well,' said Fudge. 'You may go.'
Mrs Figg cast a frightened look from Fudge to Dumbledore, then got up and shuffled otf towards the door. Harry heard it thud shut behind her.
'Not a very convincing witness,' said Fudge loftily.
'Oh, I don't know,' said Madam Bones, in her booming voice. 'She certainly described the effects of a Dementor attack very accurately. And I can't imagine why she would say they were there if they weren't.'