Friends and Foes

The square houses still stood on Privet Drive, but they were not viewed by Harry with his usual apathy or resentment; he had indeed resented his aunt and uncle's home here, and he supposed he still did. But now, a stronger feeling was in the front of his mind as he looked at the shiny cars and well kempt lawns: worry. Worry and even a little pity. Voldemort and his supporters could be hiding behind any of the wooden fences or even in one of the mailboxes, like the one Harry had just slowly opened to get the mail. He pitied the inhabitants of Privet Drive because they did not even know of the danger that was out in the world right now. Harry worried for them because he knew that they might be hurt if Voldemort came for Harry.

Dumbledore had said that Harry would be safe here, but Harry's confidence in Dumbledore was waning. Every year there was something new that Harry learned Dumbledore had been keeping secret from Harry, something about his past, about who Harry was. And, every year Voldemort was able to infiltrate Hogwarts somehow in an attempt to get to Harry. Harry was afraid that this year's attack, like the last year's, would not be quarantined within the walls of Hogwarts. He also doubted that Voldemort would stay idle during the summer, but at least he wasn't as cut off from the magical world as last summer. The Dursleys let him have his subscription to The Daily Prophet, and more importantly they let Hedwig respond to Ron and Hermione's many letters, which were chock full of interesting things.

Harry walked down Privet Drive with slumped shoulders and kicked some pebbles on the sidewalk; he missed his friends; plus, he wanted to make sure everyone in the neighborhood knew exactly how frustrated he was at having to visit Mrs. Figg again. She was asking to have tea with him now almost every other day. And, of course the Dursleys were more than happy to get rid of him. He turned down the driveway to Mrs. Figg's house separated from the other houses by large hedges. There was an old birdbath on her front lawn in which no bird was ever seen to bathe. Stopping at the front porch to give the neighborhood one last look, Harry sighed heavily and then knocked on the door.

The door shot open immediately. Harry jumped back and reached for his wand before he realized it was just Mrs. Figg.

Mrs. Figg was a scary sight on her own. Wearing a windbreaker jump suit of vibrant greens and purples, she peered down at Harry through glasses much too big for her.

"Well, isn't my little delinquent jumpy this afternoon," Mrs. Figg asked, squinting her eyes at Harry. "Got a guilty conscience?"

But before Harry could respond, she pinched his cheek and went on in that mushy tone of voice, like she was talking to a child.

"Aw, I bet you haven't done anything of the sort; you're such a good kid. I was just teasing you. Now, come in have some tea." And Harry was dragged into the rundown confines of Mrs. Figg's home.