Harry Potter and the Power Behind the Door

Harry Potter and

the Power Behind the Door

Chapter 1 - Figg tea

It was a bright and starry night...the night Harry Potter awoke drenched in cold sweat and on the verge of tears. Looking around his room, his thoughts wandered to what he had just dreamt. Sirius had been lying on the floor, blood trickling down from his forehead, Voldemort standing over him, laughing hysterically. Sirius seemed to be pleading with Harry's nemesis, but Harry could not understand what he was saying. Voldemort looked down and said the one thing that made Harry cringe. I told you he would come, risking the lives of his friends just for a dream. Harry opened his eyes, a few tears making tracks on his face. He'd been having this dream ever since he had returned from Hogwarts. No matter how much he tried to empty himself of emotions before going to sleep each night, he could not forget the stunned look on his godfather's face as he fell through the archway. Harry knew it wasn't right to dwell on this, but when there was nothing else to keep his mind occupied, he couldn't help but think back on that night almost a month ago.

He dried the tears from his face and headed for his window, searching for something to distract him. He immediately found that something when a large gray owl slammed into the window with a great THUD. There was rustling as Errol slid down the window, and all Harry could do was watch. There was another thud, and Harry covered his face in disgust. How could he tell the Weasleys that their owl was dead? Hoping not to wake anyone, Harry quickly opened the window and leaned outside the house, trying to catch a glimpse of the bird. All he could see were Errol's wings sticking out of Aunt Petunia's begonias. Harry withdrew from the window, searching frantically for a way to retrieve the fallen bird. Remembering that the Dursleys never locked their door, he looked out again to tell Errol that he would be right there. He abandoned any attempt at reassuring the bird when he realized he was talking to a stuffed feather duster, instead crossing his room in two strides and throwing open the door. He was down the stairs and out into the lawn in less time than it would have taken a Niffler to find a stack of galleons in an empty room. Running around to the back of the house, he found the bird still sprawled in the flowers, limp, as if dead. He rushed to its side and picked up the lump of feathers, searching for a head. When he found it, he stared down at it and found that it was staring back, eyes wide in shock. Despite his earlier admonition that it was useless to talk to the bird, he kept asking it if it would be alright. Harry was shocked when Errol winked at him, as if answering his question. Still holding the owl, Harry crept back to his room as silently as possible, not wanting to wake the other inhabitants of the house. Once there, he placed the molten gray feather duster in Hedwig's cage while taking the parchment off its leg. Placing it on his desk, he turned around to check on Errol and decided he was in no need of help, as he was already lapping up water from Hedwig's dish. Having seen to that, he returned to his desk and tore open the letter, revealing Ron's untidy scrawl:

Hey Harry,

Hope the Muggles are treating you good. I would have written earlier but Pig's completely fascinated with the ghoul in the attic, and he won't let me catch him. It's kind of annoying. As soon as the ghoul finally gets quiet, Pig dives down on him and he starts up the ruckus again. I think he finds it entertaining. Mom finally insisted that I use Errol instead. Said he needed the exercise.

Anyway, a couple of us are coming your way to pick you up in a week or so. Dung said he'd get us a car, so mom's refusing to go, but she said that since it was for you, she wouldn't turn him in for thievery.

Speaking of mom, Percy wrote the other day. Listen to this, mate: I would like to present my sincerest apologies. It seems the Ministry was led to error on the confirmation of Voldemort's return, and now that the truth has come to light, my involvement with our family can resume. How bogus is that! Just a month ago, he was denying all of us, and now that his precious minister's acknowledged us, we're family again. That just makes me want to go over there and smash his head into a standardized cauldron bottom.

Well, gotta go now, see you in a week, mate.

Ron

Harry put the letter back unto his desk, chuckling at Ron's anger. He could see Ron's point of view, and knew Percy was a git, but he was glad that all of the Weasley family was intact again.

There was a swoop at the window and out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw his owl Hedwig entering the room. He was delighted to see her, since she had been gone for nearly a day now. She flew over and landed on his shoulder.

"Hi Hedwig," he said, stroking her soft feathers. "Where have you been?"

She hooted and looked down at her leg, where there was a scroll closed off with a seal he didn't recognize. It was the face of a phoenix over the initials A.D. Harry retrieved the letter and broke the seal, taking out a scarlet piece of parchment with gold ink. He unfolded it and began to read.

Dear Harry,

I'm writing to inform you that a blue car will arrive at your house Saturday at six twenty-three in the evening to escort you back to the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. Lupin and Tonks will be assisting you, along with Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. I would come myself, but I'm afraid I have pressing matters to attend.

Yours Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry's spirits were lifting by the minute. First he had received a letter from his best friend informing him that he would soon get to leave, and now, Dumbledore was trying to get him out of there, unlike last year, when he was trapped at the Dursleys for what felt like an eternity. Not that the Dursleys had been bad this year. In fact, it was quite the opposite. They had been almost pleasant. Uncle Vernon had so far ignored Harry, only glancing at him at mealtimes. Aunt Petunia, on the other hand, had complimented him on his yard work, and had given him the first share at every mealtime. They even told Harry he didn't have to do his normal chores, but he insisted in an effort to keep his mind off Sirius. He hadn't seen Dudley much, so he simply assumed he was out beating a defenseless ten-year-old to a pulp with his friends Pierce, Malcolm, Gordon, and Dennis. When Dudley was home, he could only be found in the kitchen watching television as he ate, or in his room playing video games. This was an immense improvement on their earlier attitude, and Harry wondered why they couldn't have been threatened years ago. Looking up at his clock, he found that it was three thirty, and since he was going to have a full day today visiting Mrs. Figg, he laid back down and tried to clear his mind. Before he knew it, he was lost in the oblivion of sleep.

* * *

Harry awoke the next morning to a room flooded with light and the ruckus of hooting owls. Errol was sitting on his bedside table making more noise than Harry thought was possible for a half dead bundle of feathers.

"What is it you ruddy owl?" Harry asked, probing the bedside table for his glasses. As if answering the question, Errol stuck out his leg and let out another screech.

"Fine, fine," replied Harry, removing himself from his warm comfortable bed and crossing his room to sit on his desk chair. Pulling out a salmon colored piece of parchment, he scribbled a note to Ron and tied it to Errol's foot before heading down to breakfast.

Upon entering the kitchen, he found Aunt Petunia bustling around making eggs and bacon, and Dudley sitting nonchalantly in his chair, as if in a reflective mood, which seemed exceptionally unusual to Harry, since Dudley had never been known to think for himself much. As soon as he noticed his cousin's entrance, the well-endowed boy snapped back to the real world, slightly squirming in his seat.

"I was wondering when you'd get up," Aunt Petunia said, though her back was still turned to him.

"Where's Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked in return, not seeing the usual signs of his presence.

"He left an hour ago. He's got an important meeting with an executive from a rival company who's been talking about merging for the past few weeks," she said, proud that her husband was considered influential enough to act as representative of Grunnings. Aunt Petunia turned and placed a dish of bacon and eggs on the table before putting mounds of each on both the boys' plates.

"Aunt Petunia," Harry asked after taking a bite of bacon, "Will it be ok if I go over to Mrs. Figg's house today?"

"Why would you want to go over there?" Dudley asked, orange juice dribbling down his chins. "Her house always smells of something dreadful."

"She asked me if I could come help her out with some yard work," Harry instantly replied, unwilling to explain his real reasons. Mrs. Figg had actually invited him to come by and have tea with her today at two, but he saw no reason for the Dursleys to know that. It would give him a chance to finally talk to someone with real sense.

"Of course you can," Aunt Petunia interjected, something obviously on her mind. "Dudley and I were going to London today anyway. We're meeting Vernon for lunch, and we still have to get my Dudleykins his new tailored school uniforms."

Dudley rolled his eyes, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else at that moment.

"About what time should I expect you home?" Harry asked expectantly, hoping to get the house to himself after his visit with Mrs. Figg.

"I'll be home in time to make supper and for Dudley to watch boxing at his friends house."

Harry knew very well that Dudley did not watch boxing, as he'd much rather practice it on anyone unlucky enough to be at the park when he made his arrival. No matter, the longer he was away, the better.

After breakfast was over, Harry excused himself from the table and headed back upstairs where he showered and found some better fitting clothes. After getting dressed, he walked to Mrs. Figg's house two streets away. Stepping up to the porch, he rang the doorbell and waited for the door to be opened. Mrs. Figg, though very old, still had a glint to her eyes, as if she had seen many things and experienced numerous joys in her life. In Harry's opinion, she was very much like the female Albus Dumbledore. Upon seeing it was Harry, Mrs. Figg's face broke into a smile, and she beckoned him in.

"I was wondering when you'd stop by," she said, as she showed him to a seat. "Wait here while I get the tea."

Harry sat in the moth eaten chair and started looking around the house as Mrs. Figg made her way to the kitchen, her cats obediently making a path for her. He hadn't noticed it before, but there were many magical items in the older woman's living room. There was a mirror above her mantle piece that he now recognized as a foe glass, a small jar filled with what could only be floo powder, and what looked like a kwikspell book laying on her table.

"Does kwikspell really work?" Harry asked without thinking as Mrs. Figg came back into the room carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

"No, you really must have at least an ounce of magical power to work it. In my opinion, it's all a big fraud. I should have known better than to try it, but you know, the whims of a young girl..." she said in response, smiling faintly. "Mr. Figg and I tried many different 'foolproof solutions' to try and get back into the magical world, but none of them ever worked."

Harry, who had never heard Mr. Figg spoken of before, took this opportunity to learn more of the woman who had been spying on him for so many years.

"Hope you don't take offense for my asking, but, what happened to him?" Harry asked, wanting answers, but in no way meaning to offend the only neighbor who was friendly with him.

"He was killed," she said blankly. Looking Harry straight in the eye, she added, "Killed by Voldemort in an attack on Muggle London. You know, I used to live right next door to the Leaky Cauldron. Naturally, when he heard all the commotion, Charles went out to see if he could help."

"Was he a wizard?" Harry cut in.

"As I said last year, I thought you were supposed to be smart. I told you earlier that we tried many ways to gain powers, so it only makes sense that he was not already blessed with the ability. Anyhow, once he was out in the open, he was the perfect victim for Voldemort, who had no qualms about taking advantage of that."

Harry was amazed at how unflinchingly easy it was for her to mention Voldemort's name. "How come you can say his name?"

"It's only a name boy. Besides, after he murdered my husband, he couldn't do much worse. I was completely devastated after it happened, but luckily I knew Dumbledore well, and he kept me occupied."

"How could you know Dumbledore if you're a squib?" asked Harry, now completely forgetting his manners.

"He's Professor Dumbledore to you. His brother had married my sister a few years earlier, so naturally, we were almost like family. After Charles died, I had nothing left to lose, so it was no problem to get me involved in the Order of the Phoenix. Until you came along and got rid of Voldemort for us, I spent much of my time trying to help medically. I may not be able to do magic, but that didn't keep me from brewing the more time taking potions. I was also a good source of moral support for members of the order. I still brew up the occasional potion or two..."

"So is that why you're house smelled like an apothecary last time I was over here?" asked Harry, his interest building more and more as he discovered new things about this woman.

"That's right Potter. I guess you do have some brains after all," said Mrs. Figg, looking at Harry approvingly. "Anyhow, when you ruined Voldemort nearly fifteen years ago, Dumbledore came to me and asked if I could keep a watch on you here. It seemed like an easy enough job, so it gave me the opportunity to retire and begin my cat colony." As she said this, one of her smaller cats walked to her and nudged her ankle, purring contentedly. Mrs. Figg bent over slowly and put it on her lap, stroking it behind the ears.

As if on cue, cats began purring from all around Harry. Looking about, he noticed that nearly all of Mrs. Figg's pets had settled around her chair, like little children awaiting a bedtime story. It was strange watching them sit, as if they understood what was going on, and his mind was playing with the idea that perhaps they did when his train of thoughts was broken by an interruption from Mrs. Figg.

"Would you like a cookie, Harry? I see you haven't touched any of them since I set them down," she said, giving him a look as if to tell him that they weren't poisonous.

Harry and Mrs. Figg's conversation continued for a little bit as they had tea and cookies, which turned out to be better than the stale cake he had had the last time he was there. They talked about many trivial things, but most of all, Mrs. Figg found interest in his opinion of Hogwarts and how he was spending his time there. Before they knew it, it was nearly four o'clock, and Harry announced regretfully that he would have to leave if he planned on getting any homework done while the Dursleys were out. With a parting wave, he bid her goodbye and headed home.