Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin

Harry stopped pushing the mower and wiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve. He took off his glasses and wiped them, too. They weren't dirty, but he didn't need much of an excuse to take a break from mowing the backyard of Number Four, Privet Drive. He replaced his glasses and stared into the cloudless blue sky. A perfect July day. Even the fact that he'd been ordered to mow the lawn didn't ruin his mood.

This summer may have been the best--so far--that Harry had ever had. Of course, that wasn't saying much, as his summers were usually miserable. Still, cousin Dudley was still on his diet, though it didn't seem to be working, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were so busy enforcing it that they scarcely had time to berate Harry. Harry just kept out of the way mostly, and tried to work on his summer schoolwork whenever he got the time.

Harry glanced around, suddenly realizing that he'd been staring into space for going on five minutes. If Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia caught him, he'd be polishing silver all afternoon for sure, and he wanted to finish the backyard so he could start on his Astronomy homework. He was just about to resume pushing the mower when something caught his eye- something white, getting larger in the brilliant blue sky.

Harry's heart leapt. Hedwig! She'd been gone for two days, carrying a letter to Harry's best friend, Ron. Harry had been corresponding with his schoolfriends for three weeks, since their last term at Hogwarts had ended. Though Harry very much enjoyed hearing from Ron and Hermione, it was always with some trepidation that he opened their letters. Last term, the most powerful Dark wizard in the world had regained his body, his powers, and his followers. Being cut off from all news of the wizarding world, Harry was perpetually anxious to find out whether any attacks on Muggles, or killings of wizards opposed to Voldemort, had been reported in the Daily Prophet. But strangely, nothing of the kind had come to Ron's or Hermione's attention, though both were diligently watching for news. The Daily Prophet didn't even seem to know that Voldemort had returned to power; Harry supposed that Cornelius Fudge and the Ministry of Magic had seen to that.

Hedwig alighted on Harry's shoulder and clicked her beak, obviously proud that she had performed her mission successfully.

"Hi, Hedwig!" Harry said affectionately. "Listen, I'm glad to see you, too, but you've got to fly into the upstairs window--I can't carry you through the house without being seen." He removed the envelope that was attached to her leg. She hooted disdainfully. Clearly feeling unappreciated, she disappeared around the side of the house and, Harry hoped, flew into the window of his bedroom to her waiting cage. Looking around to make sure he wasn't being watched, Harry tore open the envelope and read Ron's letter. It ran over two pages of parchment, which was rather long for Ron:

Dear Harry,

Thanks for the birthday list, very helpful. "I don't know" is always a popular item though, I'm not sure I'll be able to get it for you. Anyway, we'll talk about that later, I've got news now that's much more important!

Harry shuddered. Had there been an attack? Had Voldemort surfaced?

Harry, you'll never believe it. Percy's getting married! You remember his girlfriend from school, right, that curly haired Ravenclaw girl? Penelope Clearwater? Well, it turns out they've been sending letters and seeing each other ever since they left Hogwarts, and he's just proposed--and she said yes! Imagine that, would you, someone wanting to marry Percy? She must be mad. Anyway, they've already set the date--August 29.

August 29? That didn't seem like much time to plan a wedding.

Dad says you'll think it's a bit of a short engagement, but to tell you that wizards have shorter engagements than Muggles--weddings being much quicker and easier to arrange when you can use magic.

Harry remembered the ornate decorations for the Yule Ball last Christmas at Hogwarts, and tried to imagine what a wizard wedding would look like.

Anyway, you're invited, of course. More than invited--I think if you say no, Percy is likely to Apparate in your room and kidnap you ... he's been telling everyone that Harry Potter's going to be a guest. Hermione's invited, too, and I've just sent a letter to her.

Harry, you've got to come, it'll be a great party. Fred and George are beside themselves trying to invent a spectacular practical joke that will hopefully ruin the ceremony and get them in loads of trouble. Mum's going crazy trying to keep them in line.

Oh, and we met the Clearwaters last night, they had a little engagement party at their house. Bill and Charlie are home on holiday, and they were there too. Mr. And Mrs. Clearwater are nice enough. But Harry, get this: Penelope's sister is an Auror! I think her name's Persephone ... or something. It was brilliant, all through dinner she was telling us stories about tracking down Dark wizards, and comparing scars and burns with Charlie. I think she had him beat--he had more scars, but her stories were much more interesting. Once you've heard one dragon burn story, you've heard them all.

Anyway, you've got to come, Harry. Mum says you can come to the Burrow a few days early and go to the rehearsal with us. Ask the Muggles and let me know as soon as you can.

Ron

Percy Weasley was getting married! Harry had never been to a wedding before ... At least, not that he could remember. He knew he had attended the wedding of a cousin of Uncle Vernon's once when he was three, but for some reason the Dursleys never talked about it. Whenever the subject came up, Uncle Vernon started mumbling something like, "flowers changing colors, blinking ... flying all around the church ... never in my life ... couldn't prove it had anything to do with us, at any rate ..."

So Harry's experience with Muggle weddings was limited, and his only exposure to a wizard wedding was his parents' wedding picture in the photo album that Hagrid had put together for him at the end of Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Harry visualized the picture in his mind: his father's proud look, his mother's smile. It seemed like a normal wedding picture, to Harry ... except, of course, that everyone pictured was moving and waving. A wizard wedding must be just like a Muggle wedding, Harry reasoned. Still, he was rather anxious to attend one, and immediately began thinking of ways to convince the Dursleys to let him go.

"Taking a little break, are we?" a voice called from the back door. It was Uncle Vernon, wearing a nasty expression of proud spitefulness.

Harry quickly looked up from the letter and realized he'd been staring at it absent-mindedly for several minutes. He chided himself for being so stupid.

"Uh, yeah," he called back nonchalantly. "It's getting hot, you know."

Uncle Vernon snorted. "What's that in your hand?" he asked maliciously. Before Harry could think of a proper response, Uncle Vernon had bounded over to him and ripped the letter away.

"Hey! That's my letter!" exclaimed Harry, but Uncle Vernon had already begun to read it, and clearly didn't intend on giving it back.

Harry watched and waited for the color changes in Uncle Vernon's face, which always signaled when he was going into a rage: red, then pale white, then, if he was really angry, purple. But to Harry's surprise, Uncle Vernon finished reading the letter calmly and then promptly doubled over with laughter.

"Wha ... What's so funny?" Harry asked, unnerved. Uncle Vernon's peals of laughter sounded like a cross between the high-pitched call of a hyena and the snort of a horse.

Uncle Vernon composed himself and handed back the letter. "Invited to a wedding, eh? Think you're going to a party?" That horrid laughter began again, and Harry waited patiently for him to dry his eyes and continue. "Afraid not. No, I don't think that will work out at all. You see," he spoke in a tone of mock-sympathy, "Marge has just invited us on a trip to Tuscany this August. The THREE of us, mind." His expression suddenly turned serious, as though he could no longer risk having Harry misunderstand his meaning. "Petunia, Dudley, and I are leaving next Monday, and we won't be back until August thirtieth. So, you see, it will be rather inconvenient for me to allow you to attend this ... wedding." He said the word with an unmistakable air of contempt, as though he thought wizards incapable of performing a wedding ceremony in the proper fashion.

"Oh, but that's perfect!" Harry interjected. "I can just stay with my friend Ron, I'll send him an owl this aftern--"

"I DON'T THINK SO!" bellowed Uncle Vernon. Hearing the word "owl" was too much for him. "You see, we have already made arrangements for ... you. Mrs. Figg has agreed to watch you until we return."

Harry groaned. An entire month with Mrs. Figg! A month of looking through her photo album filled with mangy cats ... A month of eating stale cake, when he could be enjoying Mrs. Weasley's cooking and playing Exploding Snap with Ron. It was almost too much to take.

"Oh, but ... Please, can't I just stay with Ron? It won't make any difference to you, you won't be here!"

"Be that as it may,"--a sinister smile began playing about Uncle Vernon's lips, making Harry's stomach lurch--"the arrangements have been made." Uncle Vernon was openly smiling now. Harry thought of the previous summer, when he had convinced Uncle Vernon to let him go to the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys. Uncle Vernon had been glad to be rid of Harry for a couple of weeks, but it had pained him to let Harry do something that made him happy. And now, Uncle Vernon was clearly trying to make up for his lost opportunity to make Harry suffer. He turned on his heel and walked back inside, so pleased with the turn of events that he forgot to assign Harry extra chores.

****

The next Monday morning came around much too quickly for Harry. He was leaving the open contempt of the Dursleys, but only to gain the mind-numbing boredom of Mrs. Figg's. Never had he wished he were back at Hogwarts so hard.

"Hurry up, boy! We've got to meet Marge at the airport in an hour!"

Harry finished scribbling an apologetic note to Ron, and tied it to Hedwig's leg. "Ron will send you back to me when I get home. Until then, stay with him, okay?" Hedwig nipped his fingertip affectionately, as though she sympathized with him, and then flew out the window. Harry picked up his bags and sloped downstairs, finding an anxious Uncle Vernon at the foot of the steps.

"I'll take those," Uncle Vernon snarled. Harry just stared at him, nonplussed. "I hope you didn't think you'd do a bit of homework at Mrs. Figg's," Uncle Vernon snorted by way of explanation. He reached into Harry's backpack "I won't have her finding out about your -- AAAAUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH!" He pulled out his hand and stared at his red, swollen index finger. "Something bit me!"

Harry had to try hard not to laugh. "It's just my book. It's about Magi--um, creatures ... it's about animals." He stifled a giggle. "I thought I'd tied it up tight, but apparently it got loose."

"YOU ARE NOT TAKING YOUR SCHOOLTHINGS TO MRS. FIGG'S! GIVE ME THAT BAG! GET IN THE CAR!" Harry rushed past Uncle Vernon, shaking with laughter, stowed his two bags of clothes in the trunk, and sat down in the backseat next to Dudley, who was craning his neck to see what his father was yelling about. Maybe Harry wouldn't get to finish his homework at Mrs. Figg's house, but the expression on Uncle Vernon's face was worth any detention. A couple minutes later, Uncle Vernon brought out Harry's backpack, considerably lighter than when it had left Harry's bedroom. He chucked it onto Harry's lap.

"Blasted thing ... Nearly drew blood ... Locked it away in the cupboard--that'll teach it!" he muttered. A startled Aunt Petunia looked over at him from the front passenger seat. He took a deep breath. "Right," he finally mumbled. "Let's go."

***

"Thank you for watching him, Mrs. Figg. It really is so sweet of you. We would take him with us, you know, but the silly child gets airsick. A shame, really," Aunt Petunia looked at Harry with feigned compassion. He thought he was going to be nauseous.

"It's quite alright, dear. Harry and I are going to have a good time until you get back--won't we, Harry?" Mrs. Figg reached down and pinched both his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw Aunt Petunia smile.

Petunia said a polite goodbye and hurried out the door. Harry watched the Dursleys pull out of Mrs. Figg's driveway. He wondered what Tuscany must be like this time of year.

"Care for a cupcake, dear? Cucumber sandwich?" Harry turned around. Mrs. Figg was holding out a plateful of obviously stale sandwiches and some cupcakes that looked as hard as any substance on earth, possibly aside from Hagrid's own rock cakes.

"Um, no thanks, I just ate." Harry didn't like lying to Mrs. Figg, but felt he had no option. He moved to pick up his bags. "I'll just put these away." He turned and made his way down the hall, toward the guest bedroom.

"Alright dear." Mrs. Figg went and set the plate down on the kitchen table. "But I do hope you brought your dress robes."

Harry stopped dead. He thought his ears must be playing tricks- surely he hadn't just heard what he thought he'd heard. He slowly spun around in his tracks and faced her. "Excuse ... me?" he whispered.

Mrs. Figg looked up from the plate. "I said, I hope you brought your dress robes." She paused, taking in his astonishment amusedly. "That's what you're expected to wear to a wizard wedding, you know. Dress robes."

Harry's jaw dropped. "But how ... You knew? How did you know? Who--?"

"Harry." Mrs. Figg's voice had changed. It was lower, not the sweet-Mrs.-Figg voice Harry was used to, but a matter-of-fact tone that told him she knew a great deal more about him than she had ever let on. She focused on him, and stared at him in a way that made him feel as though she were looking right through him. "Surely you knew. Albus told me he'd mentioned me by name last term. He thought you'd realized, Harry."

He still couldn't quite take it in. "You." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're a witch?" She knew Dumbledore, and she knew about Percy's wedding. There was no other explanation.

Mrs. Figg nodded. "Yes, Harry. I never told you, and I had my reasons. There's a great deal to be explained. But first things first; I've been given an order by Professor Dumbledore to take you to Percy Weasley's wedding. And I want to know: did you, or did you not, bring your dress robes?"

***

Harry sat at Mrs. Figg's kitchen table and tried to collect his thoughts. It was all still so new. He had known Mrs. Figg all his life, and never had he suspected that she was a witch, or that she knew that he was a wizard.

She finished making the tea and sat down opposite him. She gave him a sympathetic smile and handed him a cup.

"That's alright, dear," she spoke warmly. "It will be easy enough for me to fetch your things from the Dursleys'. You be wanting me to bring back your schoolbooks, too, I suppose. That way you can get some work done while you're here ..."

"I'm not thinking about that," Harry replied. "Oh, thank you," he said as he noticed the cup of hot tea.

"Of course you weren't. You were trying to get your mind around the fact that boring old Mrs. Figg is an Auror!"

"You're WHAT?" Harry exclaimed, nearly dropping his teacup. "You're an ... an Auror?!" He might be able to picture Mrs. Figg stirring a cauldron, or taking care of magical creatures, even. But fighting Dark wizards?

Mrs. Figg laughed out loud. "Yes, of course! But I'm confusing you now. I reckon I should start from the beginning, eh?" She threw her head back and closed her eyes, as if she were trying to recall events that had taken place long ago. She opened her eyes again and directed them at Harry. "I have been friends with Albus Dumbledore ever since our school days. He trusted me, and he trusted my late husband. That's why he came to me when Voldemort disappeared." She noted Harry's expression of surprise at her use of the name, but she continued. "I never knew your parents, Harry, though of course I knew of them. They were very well-known in the wizarding community. Anyway, when they were killed, I was tracking Dark wizards in Wales. Those were such difficult times at the Ministry." She shook her head. "We got word that a couple of Death Eaters in Wales were planning an attack on some Muggles, and I was sent out to stop them, but they got away. Anyway, I was just getting ready to return to Surrey when who should Apparate right in front of me but Albus? Tells me a wild story about a Killing curse that backfired, and a baby with a scar," she smiled as she glanced at the lightning-shape scar on Harry's forehead. "Then in flies that Rubeus Hagrid fellow on a flying motorcycle! And to top it all, he was carrying something--the baby. You."

Mrs. Figg paused, obviously thinking hard. "Now, we've kept this from you for some time, but I suppose you're old enough to know it all now. Right then and there, in that rooming house in Wales where I'd been staying, Albus Dumbledore made me your Secret-Keeper; he performed the Fidelius charm. Now, normally the subject--that would be you--must hold his Secret-Keeper in mind while the charm is performed. But Albus devised a way to appoint a Secret-Keeper for you, since you were only an infant. The only limitation was that the charm would only work as long as you resided with your next of kin."

It made sense, Harry thought. He remembered the end of last term, when Mrs. Weasley had asked to have Harry stay at the Burrow all summer, and how Professor Dumbledore had told her that Harry must stay at the Dursleys', "at least for a while". Mrs. Figg saw the comprehension dawning on his face.

"Yes, that's right," she replied, as though he had spoken his thoughts out loud. "You had a godfather, and anyone in the wizarding world would have gladly taken you in. But Professor Dumbledore was forced to leave you with the Dursleys. And, truth be told, I think he preferred it that way. Better that you not know everything until you were old enough to understand it, he used to say."

"So, there you were, and Albus asked me to move in here to watch over you in case any Dark wizards tried to find you. Though he needn't have bothered. No one did. Voldemort was smart enough to try to get to you where you were unprotected by the Fidelius charm -at Hogwarts. Though I daresay he didn't succeed!" She looked down, chuckling merrily to herself. "Three times, Harry! Three times you defeated him." She stopped laughing at looked at him affectionately. "I'm sure your father would have been very proud."

Harry gazed at Mrs. Figg with a new respect. The simple old woman who he had hardly given a thought had spent fourteen years of her life watching over him. He didn't know what to say.

"You're welcome," she said warmly. She stood up and placed her teacup in the sink. "Now, I think I'll Apparate over to the Dursleys' and collect your dress robes. If you tell me which books and school things you want, I'll be happy to get them for you. Oh, and why don't you use my owl to send a note to your friend Ron?" She produced a piece of parchment and a quill from a kitchen drawer and handed them over. She whistled, and a dark screech owl flew in from one of the back bedrooms, landed on the table, and surveyed Harry curiously. "Tell him we'll both be attending that wedding."

Harry lay awake in the guest bed that night, too excited to sleep. Mrs. Figg would take him to Diagon Alley a week before school started on September 1. There he would meet the Weasleys and buy all his school supplies for the year. He would go back to the Burrow with them, and stay there until he, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George left for Hogwarts together. Harry smiled, closed his eyes, and pictured a sunburned Dudley whining for more lasagna. He had never been so glad to be left behind by the Dursleys.