As Harry sat on the dining table, he carried on finishing the bread. Strangely, the tabby cat had followed him and sat on the opposite chair, intently observing him.
As he chewed on the bread, he looked at the cat and then at the bread in his hand. He then tore a piece off his bread and tried to feed it to the cat. The cat just looked at him in disgust and kept its mouth shut.
"You're a proud one, eh? No matter!" He tried to scratch the cat, "Here's a good pussy-cat," he said, smiling cheekily. The cat just slid back and turned its face away.
"Boy! Language! Where do you learn such garbage from?" chided Mrs. Figg as she took a seat at the table.
"I didn't say a single word though. What could you be talking about?" he said blankly. She just huffed in annoyance. The boy was going to be the death of her.
"But you've got a real strange cat, Mrs. Figg. This cat doesn't blink, lick its paws, or even meow for a change! Merlin's beard, she doesn't even feel like a cat!" he said, getting strangely excited.
But both Mrs. Figg and the cat froze at his words. The cat swiftly looked at Mrs. Figg and continued to stare.
"Harry! Where did you learn to say those words!" asked Mrs. Figg, shaken.
"Hmm? Oh, that? I saw it in the 'Conversations between Barnacle the Bumpkin and Master Potious,' in History of Magic. Gotta say, Mrs. Figg, that book is weird but interesting!" said Harry, intently looking at her.
She was dumbfounded that the boy could remember so much. But seeing him looking at her so intently, she knew what he meant or what he wanted. And that made her heart sink. She covertly looked at the feline sitting and shook her head at Harry to convey something.
But Harry, in his excitement, blatantly ignored her gestures and exclaimed, "I wanna know who Beedle is!"
She sighed. Oh well, she was in trouble anyway. She avoided looking at the cat and went out to the closet to get the book. She came back and handed the book to Harry. He excitedly took it and opened the book. Looking at him, all excited, she smiled softly.
She never could openly help him, lest he got attached to her. Her heart ached whenever she saw him. The boy never could completely let his guard down. With her too, he had been the one to wear her down. He had stuck around, helped her, ever so hopeful that she would let him stay.
How could she refuse? Even though famous, here in an unknown world, he was just a boy who had gotten the short end of the stick since the beginning. How could she say 'no' when this boy had vanquished the tyrant over her head years ago? When they were treated as vermin, the lowliest of the low?
She knew she was risking it when letting him read these strange books. But she believed he was sensible. It was foolish, but it was done.
Time passed as Harry read the book, and she accompanied him. She made them tea and served his favorite cake. She winced when the cat quietly hissed at her. It was another thing that turned out to be a 'beautiful' mistake. She had added some potions to the cake that made the consumer averse by making them remember their least favorite food.
As it was nearing lunchtime, Harry closed the book with a sigh. He glumly looked at the book and gently pushed it away. He looked downcast and frowned.
"What's the matter?" she asked, noticing his expression.
He looked up at her and said, "Magic is so troublesome, huh?"
She stilled. And the cat loudly meowed. Harry was startled and looked at the cat in surprise. She looked at him intently and asked him, "Why—Why do you think that, Harry?"
He mulled it over and said, "Hmm… Well, this Beedle wrote such bad stories. I mean, in stories like Cinderella, magic is so simple and it helped her! And—and in other stories I've read, magic always helps! Take Beauty and the Beast! The curse helped him be a better person! But these stories always look so much trouble! It's no Aesop's Fables, I'll say."
She was perplexed, "But don't you think that the stories teach us something? To use magic carefully. To be responsible and not cause others harm? Not that it's real," she said hurriedly, side-eyeing the tabby.
He frowned, stood up, and said, "But isn't that supposed to be like that? Magic to only those who want to help people? It's always used to defeat the bad guys in stories!"
She smiled at that and sighed. She again, side-eyed the cat and nodded at him. After some idle time and talking, she shooed him away. She sternly reminded him not to wander off and meet some other of his kind. Merlin knows he had told her of the strange people who spoke like the ones he read in books.
As she closed the door and turned around, the tabby cat with strange markings around its eyes was gone. Instead, a tall, black-haired woman in gray robes sat on the chair, polishing her glasses. Her expression was stern, and her lips were pressed in a thin line.
"Sorry for that, Mrs. McGonagall. He comes around during weekends and holidays. Finds—finds unbearable staying there all day," Mrs. Figg answered nervously, twisting her hands.
McGonagall nodded but didn't say anything. Mrs. Figg fidgeted and paced, but ultimately sat on the opposite chair. She was nervous meeting this stern woman.
'Damn it, Dumbledore! Diggle would've been fine as usual! Why send her?!' she thought.
Though it was better than that Snape. He was cold, never uttered a word, and hardly acknowledged her presence. He had only come around once, and it was apparent he hated every second of it.
"Arabella," said McGonagall. Arabella—Mrs. Figg jerked in surprise.
"Ye—yeah?" she stuttered. Minerva McGonagall made her really nervous.
Minerva looked up at her, now the glasses perched on her nose and a severe expression on her face. "Why in Merlin's name would you give him those books!? What if he said something out to those Muggles? Or—" and thus started the scolding. Oh, it was painful. But she could endure. It made her sympathize with Harry, who would, in some years, may face the same fate.
All sorts of questions were asked, Arabella pleaded and explained her side. She explained Harry's curious and cheeky nature. She noted his persistence. She gave all the reasons she could muster, and it seemed to register and resonate with the stern woman.
"Yes. He is indeed a troublemaker it seems," sighed Minerva, remembering the way he talked to a cat. Apparently, being manhandled in a cat form hadn't sat well with the her.
"Any specific reason for the visit this time?" asked Arabella, after a bout of silence.
"Nothing particular. The usual check-up Dumbledore does. I volunteered this time. I wanted to see the boy. I had seen him last when he was six years old," replied Minerva.
"But Dumbledore is going to know about this, Arabella. What you did is risky. I'm sure you've seen how the Muggles in that house are!" she said again, a little heatedly.
Arabella meekly nodded. It was fair. "But why do we even keep him in that place? The boy and those people hate each other. Hardly a place for a boy to grow." she asked, looking to satiate her long-standing curiosity.
Minerva exhaled heavily. She leaned back on the chair. "It is another mystery I'm not privy to, Arabella. Albus says it is for his safety…" but she slowly shook her head.
Arabella gaped. "But that's just bollocks!" she exclaimed, and Minerva shot her a glare. She lowered her tone but still said, "But what good does it do letting him stay there? The boy isn't wanted, looked after, or even fed properly! If not for his own cheeky mouth, the people there would've starved him!"
Minerva closed her eyes and said, "I know, Arabella. But if it is for the good… I don't like it, but Albus insists it protects him." The excuse felt weak. But Dumbledore's mind was a vault that even the goblins would envy.
Arabella fell silent at that. Albus Dumbledore was a man who had stood against that tyrant for years. He had united the people against him… And if he thinks that Harry Potter is in danger, she was willing to believe him. She had to, otherwise what would be the point?
After some silence, Minerva stood up. She took her hat out of her pouch and perched it on her head. She then took out a stick—a wand. She turned towards Arabella and said, "I shall be going. Any other thing of concern I should know?"
Arabella thought for a moment and said, "Harry is a very curious child. It would be beneficial for him to read and know… more."
Looking at the stony expression building on Minerva's face, she hurriedly said, "I mean—we could excuse it as 'silly' books I found. It was just a thought."
Minerva just nodded silently. She raised her wand and vanished with a snap.
Arabella stood blankly and then collapsed on a chair. 'Magic is convenient,' she sighed to herself.
Oh, the irony.