Harry Potter and the Secret Prophecy

Harry Potter
and the
Secret Prophecy

Alternate Universe Remix
fanfiction by Fox in the Stars

Chapter Two
Aunt Petunia's Heel

"It's ‘Miss,' Dear," she said.

"Huh?" Harry blinked at her in the dim light.

"It's ‘Miss Figg,' not ‘Mrs.' Vernon and Petunia don't think it respectable to be an old maid, but that's what I properly am."

Harry couldn't say that he was surprised to hear it. For as long as he'd known Miss Figg, she had always been dressed just as she was now: in a housecoat, hairnet, and tartan carpet slippers. Tins of catfood clanked in the bag on her arm. The butterscotch tabby cat he'd seen earlier was back, rubbing itself against her ankles. All these years she had lived two streets away, had been his dreaded babysitter, and now it turned out... "You've been a witch all along??"

"I'm sorry I had to make such nuisance of myself," she said. "You know I wouldn't have gotten to babysit you if you had enjoyed my company, and if Vernon and Petunia knew about me, well..."

Harry's mind was still turning. So when she had whispered to him about seeing a great black dog, she had been trying to clue him in that she was on his side, that she was Sirius's friend! He had just been too used to thinking of her as the batty old cat lady to realise that she might be something more. Now that he thought of it, he remembered Dumbledore talking about "the old crowd" and mentioning "Arabella Figg"...

"Could you lend a hand here, Harry dear?" She was tugging at Dudley's arm, but he seemed to want to stay curled up on the ground. Harry took the other arm over his shoulders, and he and Miss Figg at last hauled Dudley upright. They both staggered under his immense weight, but nonetheless they started off toward the Dursley house with him shuffling his feet along between them.

"What's going on!?" Harry asked. "What were those Dementors doing here!?"

"I haven't the foggiest. Dear me, they must have finally gone over, but I never would have expected them to pop up like this! Thank heavens Tibbles caught scent of them in time to raise me."

The tabby cat had run a little further down the sidewalk and meowed back at them.

"Yes, you. You're my hero," Miss Figg told it.

"But Vol---"

"Harry, not here!"

"You-Know-Who," Harry corrected himself, "what's he been doing?"

"Nothing... nothing straight out," she said. "The Order's been taking care of it."

"'The Order'?"

"The Order of the Phoenix, the Old Crowd," Miss Figg whispered, huffing and puffing as she helped lug Dudley. "He started up the Death Eaters again, so Albus started up the Order again, too. Somebody's got to do something."

"Yeah..." There was so much Harry wanted to talk about and ask her about, he wished he had hours to do it, but already he could make out the Dursley house in the distance. He hardly knew where to begin, and besides, pulling his cousin along took most of the breath he would need to talk. He didn't think of a first thing to say until they were bringing Dudley up the drive and Miss Figg made straight for the Dursleys' front door. "Can't we just sneak in?" he whispered.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, it's better this way," she said. "Poor Dudley needs his parents, and better to have it out with Vernon and Petunia and be done with it..."

Harry's stomach sank. He looked around as she reached for the doorbell --- was that a little light he saw in the living room window? Did he hear a cry and see it jump when the bell rang? He must have, because Aunt Petunia opened the door only seconds later. She was in her own housecoat, had her hair up in curlers, and was holding a penlight in her teeth. "Thudley!" she cried; the penlight got in the way of the D sound before falling from her mouth.

"Good evening, Petunia," Miss Figg said, snapping back into her usual character as she shoved Dudley through the door. "I'm afraid your boys had quite a bad scare. Almost run down by a bus, poor darlings; I don't know where they find those mad drivers..."

Harry switched on the living room light as Miss Figg led Dudley toward the dining room table and Aunt Petunia followed along with an arm around him fretting "Oh, Duddy Dumpling!" In the light, Harry saw that one of the couch-cushions was crooked, and a corner of pulp-paper poked out from under it. The bits of large type sticking out were the ends of two lines: "-INISTRY," "-ATES," and below that a fragment of moving picture: a white-gloved hand smoothed a man's hair, then replaced a lime green bowler hat atop it. Harry took a step and accidentally put his sneaker down on the penlight. Aunt Petunia snuck down here to read my Daily Prophet!?

"Harry!" Miss Figg called shrilly.

As he ran into the dining room, he heard Uncle Vernon's footsteps thundering down the stairs. "WHAT IN BLAZES IS GOING ON DOWN THERE!?"

Dudley was huddled silently in a chair; Petunia jumped, but Miss Figg went right on chattering. "---Or any hot cocoa maybe? Not the diet kind, I mean good hot cocoa. Goodness knows no boy needs to be on a diet when he's been through such a thing, poor little Dudley dear..." To Harry's amazement, she shuffled over and started banging around the Dursleys' kitchen, setting a saucepan on the stove and getting the milk out of the refridgerator before rummaging through the cabinets. "Oh, you have marshmallows, that's good..."

Petunia seemed to just realise what Miss Figg was doing and dashed over to stop her as Vernon burst in, red in the face, and caught sight of Harry. "YOU!"

"Vernon, dear, you like hot cocoa, don't you?"

He whipped around in shock to find Miss Figg standing there. "Well, yes, I... What are you---?"

"Poor Dudley and Harry almost got hit in the street..."

Harry's uncle shot a venomous glance that told him he was still a suspect.

"They've had a bad scare, but you give them some chocolate and biscuits and send them to bed and they'll be just fine," Miss Figg said.

"Yes, we'll do that," Vernon said. He took Miss Figg by the arm and started dragging her toward the door. Petunia had taken over in the kitchen and was stirring the saucepan.

"You mind what I tell you now," Miss Figg insisted. "Those boys need sweets: good chocolates, home-made nummies..."

"Yes, yes..."

Harry watched in horror as Vernon pushed her out the door and struggled to take leave of her. He was up against all three of the Dursleys at once, his only friend against them was being snatched away before his eyes, and he didn't dare say a thing...

After spitting out "Good night, Mrs. Figg!" no less than four times in a row, Vernon at last slammed the door behind her and stormed back to the table. He fixed Harry with a murderous, scarlet-faced glare. "What happened, you little monster!? WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON!?"

"Nothing!" Harry insisted. "It wasn't me! We were attacked!"

"LIAR!"

"I couldn't do that!" he shouted back, pointing at Dudley's hunched, shivering form. "We were attacked by Dementors!"

Aunt Petunia gasped; her stirring spoon rang against the kitchen's white tile floor.

"WHAT IN THE RUDDY HELL IS A DEMENTOR!?" Vernon bellowed.

"They guard the wizard pris---" Harry began.

But Aunt Petunia interrupted, seeming not to have even heard him. "They kill happiness," she said into her hand. "They eat people's souls."

Harry and Uncle Vernon both turned to stare at her. In a second she remembered herself, ran for another spoon, and went back to stirring the saucepan. She hunched over and stared into it as if nothing else in the world existed.

"That is what they do," Harry said. "They're supposed to be prison guards; they're not supposed to be here."

"Oh, so now you're on the run from the magical coppers, are you!?"

"No, I..." He trailed off. Could the Dementors have been chasing Sirius? They had appeared just after Dudley shouted his name out to the whole world! Surely Miss Figg would have said something... wouldn't she? Or would she have wanted to spare him thinking Sirius was in trouble...?

"Then you tell me what's---AAARGH!!"

Uncle Vernon gave a scream of vexation as an owl swooped in from the living room and wheeled once around the ceiling, dropping an envelope onto the table before flying out again. He slammed his hand down on the envelope before Harry could reach it, but the corner Harry could see between his Uncle's fingers was enough to make his insides go cold. It was from the Ministry's Improper Use of Magic Office.

Vernon tore the envelope open so savagely that he took a chunk out of the enclosed parchment and read over it, his eyes switching wildly from side to side. "You're telling me it wasn't you!? Well, your Ministry says otherwise," he shouted, waving the letter in Harry's face. "They say you were casting spells out there tonight!!"

"I didn't!" Harry started, grabbing for the parchment. All he'd done was try the Patronus Charm --- try to help --- and it hadn't worked. Were those little silver whisps enough for the Ministry to...? "Let me see that!"

"Fine!" Vernon threw the parchment at him.

Harry snatched it. He couldn't bear to read the whole thing, only skimmed over it, his eyes catching on the words that would tell him what it meant.

". . . Patronus Charm . . . second offense . . . in accordance with . . . must inform you that you are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. . . ."

He slumped in his chair. Uncle Vernon was still shouting at him, but he didn't bother to listen; it didn't matter. If he was expelled from Hogwarts, nothing mattered. He let his head fall onto his hand and seized a fistful of his hair.

"So you admit it, do you!?" Uncle Vernon demanded.

Harry barely noticed Aunt Petunia setting mugs of hot cocoa on the table --- even one next to Harry --- and coaxing Dudley to drink some. "I was... I was trying to help..."

"Trying to help my son into an early grave is more like it, you---!!"

"Fine!" Harry shouted suddenly, springing to his feet. He wadded the letter from the Ministry in his fist and threw it violently across the table, but it bounced off Uncle Vernon's balding head so lightly that it only frustrated him more. "Fine! If that's what you want to think!"

Uncle Vernon stood up from his chair as well, just in time for another owl streaking into the kitchen to collide with the back of his head and hurtle headlong onto the table. "BLASTED---RUDDY---BIRDS!!! DAMNED---!!!"

As Vernon rubbed his head and continued choking out swear words, Harry recognised Errol, the Weasleys' broken down old family owl. Harry picked him up, wondering if he was hurt, but Errol only stuck out his claw with the letter, and when Harry took it, he shook himself off and flew away again, if a bit unsteadily. The envelope was addressed to Harry, from Arthur Weasley --- Ron's Father, who worked at the Ministry.

Dear Harry,
Dumbledore is sorting things out. You won't be expelled,
trust me. I don't think you will, anyway. Do not leave
your Aunt and Uncle's house. This is the most important
thing. We're taking care of it.
If anyone from the Ministry comes demanding your wand,
don't give it up. Insist on a hearing.
Whatever you do, do not leave the house!
~Arthur Weasley

Easy for you to say, Mr. Weasley...

Harry looked up from the letter as Dudley moaned pitifully. Aunt Petunia lifted the mug from his mouth. "Duddykins? Are you all right?"

"Was so cold..." he mumbled.

"What was it?" his father asked him gruffly. "Boy, what happened?"

Dudley began to raise his head; when he caught sight of Harry, his eyes widened. "He did something... He was... He was in my head..."

"So it wasn't you, eh!?"

As Uncle Vernon turned on him again, Harry knew there was no way he could make them believe the truth---that he'd had a flash into Dudley's mind not meaning to and still not knowing how, and then the Dementors had come, that they and not he had done the real damage, but even after Mr. Weasley's letter, he was still so angry and numb that he didn't care, and he stood his ground with fiery stubbornness as his Uncle came around the table.

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia cried.

Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him forward; Harry's hand found his mug of hot cocoa and he took the handle --- he was going to smash it against his Uncle's red, puffed up face, even as Vernon was drawing back a fist; Petunia was reaching for his elbow ---

Vernon instantly jumped clear of Harry and looked around as if he had heard gunshots go off, but they were only knocks on the door. He stood frozen for a moment and just stared toward them until they sounded again --- Knock! Knock! Knock! Petunia clutched her chest and collapsed into a chair as Uncle Vernon nervously crept across the living room and the knocks kept coming in polite threes and fours.

Very cautiously, he opened the door --- it was Miss Figg! "Vernon, dear, I realised I had just the thing," she announced officiously, sweeping into the house. She had a brown paper sack in her arms along with the clanking bag of catfood. Vernon was too surprised to stop her. "I had all these Easter chocolates left over that we didn't use at the church ladies' sewing circle and I thought, ‘wouldn't that be just the thing'..." she said as she shovelled fistfulls of foil-wrapped chocolate rabbits onto the table and pressed several into Dudley's pudgy hands. Harry could only stare at her; he realized he was still gripping the hot-chocolate mug that he had intended to use as a weapon, and he put it down carefully.

"Oh, Harry, such a face! Here," she said, pressing him to take some candies, then she rolled the top of the sack and handed it to a speechless Aunt Petunia. "And I had kept forgetting I was going to give you some of my zucchini, it just made so pretty this year..."

"Ah... thank... you," Petunia mumbled.

"Now, now, Mrs. Figg, it's very late of you to nice, er, come..." Vernon stammered. "We should really be tucking the boys into the door so let me show you to---AUGH!" He was just reaching for Miss Figg's arm again when two more owls zipped in through the door that was still hanging open. He clapped his hands over the old lady's eyes, turned her by that grip on her head, and started pushing her toward the door. "Petunia had, ah, your Christmas present! Yes, she'd just gotten it out and you mustn't see it..."

"Oh, isn't she a treasure! You're a lucky man, Vernon, bless your heart. You kids have a good night!" Miss Figg called back as he led her away.

As Harry took the latest envelopes from the owls, Aunt Petunia carefully unrolled the top of the paper sack as if afraid it might contain a bomb. Harry couldn't help wondering what ‘zucchini' was anyway and leaned over to look; it turned out to be a kind of dark green squash.

The owls swished past Uncle Vernon's head and out into the night as he was again trying to get the old lady out the door. "Good night, Mrs. Figg... Good night, Mrs. Figg --- just GET OUT! ---Er, ‘red... spout.' To grow those, vegetable, things, I bet your... spout... to water them, you know, must be very... Good night. Yes..."

Finally he got the door shut behind her, locked every chain and bolt, and leaned against it, clutching his chest and catching his breath.

Harry tore open the two letters; the first was from Sirius --- that meant he was all right! He'd signed it with the canine nickname he had told Harry to use when talking about him in public.

Harry - We're doing everything we can here, but
DO NOT leave the house again. I'll get something
better worked out ASAP, but until then the Dursley
house is the safest place.
You HAVE TO STAY THERE for now.
More soon. - Snuffles

The second letter was another one from the Improper Use of Magic Office, and again he only skimmed it. The room had been silent for a long moment, and he didn't know how much longer it could last...

". . . Brought to our attention that the previous letter you recieved may have been sent in error . . . Expulsion is suspended pending further investigation . . . Hearing to be held---"

"Get out."

Harry looked up. Uncle Vernon had recovered at last and was coming toward him, again fixing him with a vicious glare, but this time stopped several feet from Harry and just stood there facing off with him, making no further move to touch him or attack him. "You. Get out of my house."

For Harry, those words had no sting. All he had to lose was fourteen years of hateful memories. "You want me to leave?" he said calmly.

"Yes. Now. For good and all," Vernon declared. "I've had my fill of those ruddy owls, and ‘Lamentors,' or whatever-they-are --- I've had my fill of you and your whole... Your kind! Now you collect up your hocus-pocus garbage and get out of my house and don't come back, do you hear me!?"

Harry nodded slowly; he squeezed Sirius and Mr. Weasley's letters in his fist --- they had told him to stay here... But they don't understand. They had never lived in the Dursley house. As far as he knew they were both pureblooded wizards; how could they know what it meant to be locked up with a family like this?? They'd been keeping him in the dark all summer! Was that what they thought best? Was that what they thought safest?? They can't possibly understand... All right, Uncle Vernon. I'll go and start packing. He opened his mouth to say it...

"No!"

Harry and Uncle Vernon both whipped around at the sound of Aunt Petunia's voice. Dudley didn't seem to hear; he had begun mechanically stuffing chocolate rabbits into his mouth.

Uncle Vernon gaped at his wife. "What... What did you...?"

"I said ‘no'," she repeated, slowly rising from her chair.

"Petunia, he's got to go!" Vernon insisted. "Just look what happened to our Dud---"

"NO!" Aunt Petunia stamped her heel against the floor; the rubber sole of her slipper made a squeak. "We can lock him in his room. We can brick over the window! You never have to see him, but we're not throwing him out!"

"Petunia!?"

"Not now!" she cried. "I hate it all!! I hate it just as much as you do, but I'm not going to throw my sister's child out there to... Out there to get killed!" By the last word she was screaming and clutching at her face; she looked on the verge of tears.

Uncle Vernon said nothing, but clearly he had relented. He carefully took Petunia by the arms and held her as she began sobbing.

Harry's mouth fell open at the sight. Aunt Petunia crying, Uncle Vernon holding her, even gently. In all these years he had never seen such a thing happen in the Dursley house. More amazing still, Aunt Petunia had stood up for him. He and Miss Figg had caught her sneaking a look at the Daily Prophets Harry threw out --- had she seen that story early in the holiday, where they admitted that Dumbledore had announced Voldemort's return? Did Aunt Petunia know what that meant, as she had known about Dementors? Had she been keeping Harry locked in his room trying to protect him? He could scarcely believe that all of this was real!

Aunt Petunia turned her tightly-wrung face toward him. "GET UP TO YOUR ROOM!" she shrieked angrily. "STAY THERE THIS TIME LIKE I TOLD YOU!!!"

These were really the Dursleys after all, and they didn't have to tell Harry twice. He leapt up the stairs two at a time and breathed a sigh of relief to close his door behind him and again be in his room, his own space, surrounded by his own Magic things...

When he looked up, he found that the window was closed and the drapes were pulled, where he had left them standing wide open. What's more, he had left his Firebolt and Invisibility Cloak under the lilac bush, and now they both lay neatly on his bed. Beside them was another folded brown paper sack; this one had "For Harry" written on it with a quill. He put away the broomstick and cloak, then sat down on his bed with the sack, opened it up, and took out a folded note.

Sorry again for the way I've acted
all these years. Next time you come
I'll show you my basement. I've
got some older photo albums down there
that I think you'll like, and I'll make
you biscuits from my own recipes.
~Arabella

In the bottom of the bag, he found a dozen or more Chocolate Frogs and a bottle of Butterbeer. As he flopped down on the bed, he wholeheartedly took back every bad thing he had ever thought about the batty old cat lady who lived two streets over.

to be continued in...
Chapter Three: A Tap on the Glass