Chapter 237
"What?" Harry said in astonishment.
Mrs. Figg waved her hand dismissively. "He's gone… gone to meet someone about a shipment of cauldrons that fell off a flying broomstick. I told him I'd skin him alive if he left, and look what happened! Dementors!! We're lucky I had Mr. Tibbles keeping watch, but we haven't got time to stand around — hurry, I've got to get you back. There'll be terrible trouble because of this… I'll kill him!"
But discovering that this batty, cat-obsessed neighbor knew about Dementors was a massive shock.
"Are… are you a witch?"
"I'm a Squib," said Mrs. Figg, "as Mundungus knows perfectly well. How in heaven's name was I supposed to help you fight Dementors? He left me with no cover at all, and I warned him…"
Harry interrupted, "Was this Mundungus person following me? Wait… it was him! He disappeared using magic right outside my house!"
"Yes, yes, yes, but luckily I'd put Mr. Tibbles under a car just in case, and he came to warn me. But by the time I got to your house, you'd disappeared… and now… oh dear, what will Dumbledore say?"
After a pause she shouted at Dudley, "You — get your fat backside off the ground, quickly!"
Harry stared at her. "You know Dumbledore?"
"Of course I know Dumbledore. Who doesn't know Dumbledore? But come on… I won't be able to help you if they come back. I've never even Transfigured a teacup in my life."
She bent down, grabbed Dudley's thick arm in her thin hand, and pulled. "Get up, you useless lump of lard, get up!"
But Dudley either couldn't or wouldn't move. He remained where he was, trembling, his face pale as dust, his mouth tightly shut.
"I'll get him up," Harry said, taking Dudley's hand and pulling him to his feet.
With enormous effort he managed it. Dudley looked close to fainting; his tiny eyes rolled in their sockets and sweat poured down his face. For a moment Harry let go of him, and Dudley swayed dangerously.
"Hurry!" Mrs. Figg cried hysterically.
Harry threw one of Dudley's huge arms over his shoulders and dragged him across the road, staggering under his weight. Mrs. Figg hurried ahead, nervously glancing toward the end of the street.
As they entered Wisteria Walk she said, "Keep your wand out… and don't worry about the Statute of Secrecy now. The wizarding world will be in uproar over this — they might even hang us. What's that at the end of the street? Ah… it's Mr. Prentice… don't put your wand away, boy, didn't I tell you I'm no use?"
It wasn't easy holding his wand steady while dragging Dudley at the same time. Harry jabbed his cousin sharply in the ribs, but Dudley showed no desire to move on his own.
He was practically hanging off Harry's shoulder, his enormous feet dragging along the ground.
Harry asked between breaths, "Why didn't you tell me you were a Squib? Every time I came to your house… why didn't you tell me anything?"
"Because Dumbledore ordered me not to. I was supposed to keep an eye on you without telling you anything. You were too young. I'm sorry you had such a miserable time at my place, Harry, but the Dursleys never would have let you come if they'd known you enjoyed yourself… It wasn't easy, you know… but dear me…"
She flung her hands dramatically into the air again.
"When Dumbledore hears about this… how could Mundungus leave me alone? How? He was supposed to stay on watch until midnight! How am I supposed to tell Dumbledore what happened? I can't even Apparate!"
Harry groaned under Dudley's weight. "I've got an owl. You can borrow her."
"Harry, you don't understand… Dumbledore has to act immediately. The Ministry has ways of detecting underage magic, and I guarantee they already know what happened… trust me."
"But I was getting rid of the Dementors," Harry said tensely. "I had to use magic… Surely they'll be more interested in why Dementors were in Wisteria Walk, won't they?"
"Oh, my dear… I hope so, but I'm afraid… Mundungus Fletcher! I'll kill you!"
A loud crack sounded, accompanied by the smell of alcohol and stale tobacco, as an unshaven man appeared suddenly before them.
He had short bowed legs, long tangled brown hair, and bloodshot drooping eyes, giving him the appearance of a scruffy old dog. In his hand he held a silvery bundle that Harry immediately recognized as an Invisibility Cloak.
The man looked from Mrs. Figg to Harry and Dudley.
"What's going on, Figg? What happened that made you blow your cover?"
"I'll blow your cover apart surgically!" Mrs. Figg shrieked. "Dementors came, you worthless thieving idiot!"
"Dementors?" Mundungus repeated in horror. "Dementors here?!"
"Yes, here, you bat-dropping heap of rubbish! Dementors attacked the boy you were supposed to be guarding — during your shift!"
Mundungus looked shaken. "Impossible… impossible… I just…"
"And you went off to buy stolen cauldrons after I told you not to!"
"I… I… it's just… there was a fantastic deal going…" he muttered weakly.
Mrs. Figg swung the shopping bag hanging from her arm and smacked him across the face and neck. Judging by the metallic clanking, the bag was full of cat food tins.
"Ow! Stop it — get away from me, you old bat! We need to tell Dumbledore!"
"Yes!" Mrs. Figg shouted, continuing to beat him with the bag. "And it had better be you who tells him you weren't here to help us!"
"Get that bag away from me! I'm going, I'm going!" Mundungus cried, shielding his head with his arms.
"I hope Dumbledore kills you," Mrs. Figg snapped. "Now come on, Harry, what are you waiting for?"
Harry decided not to waste his remaining breath explaining that he could barely walk under Dudley's weight. He shifted Dudley higher onto his shoulder and staggered onward.
As they turned into Privet Drive, Mrs. Figg said, "I'll take you to the door… they might still be around… what a disaster… and you fought them alone… Dumbledore told us to keep you from using magic at any cost… no use crying over spilled potion now, the cat's among the pixies already…"
"So Dumbledore had me watched?" Harry panted.
"Of course he had you watched!" said Mrs. Figg impatiently. "Did you think he'd leave you wandering around alone after what happened last June? Honestly… they told me you were clever, boy… here we are. Get inside and stay there. I expect someone will contact you very soon."
"What are you going to do?" Harry asked quickly.
"I'm going home… and waiting for instructions. You stay inside. Good night."
"Wait — don't go! I want to know what—!"
But Mrs. Figg hurried away, her flat shoes and rattling cat-food tins echoing in the night.
"Wait!" Harry shouted after her.
He had a million questions for anyone connected to Dumbledore, but within seconds the darkness swallowed Mrs. Figg completely. Frowning, Harry adjusted Dudley's weight again and painfully crossed the front garden of Number Four.
The lights in the living room were on. Harry shoved his wand into the waistband of his jeans and rang the bell, watching Aunt Petunia's shadow grow larger behind the distorted glass.
"Duddykins, you're back just in time. I was beginning to wor— Duddy? What's wrong?"
Harry glanced sideways at Dudley and slipped out from under his arm just in time. Dudley swayed, his face greenish pale, then suddenly opened his mouth and vomited all over the front step.
"DIDDY! My precious boy, what happened?! Vernon! Vernon!"
Uncle Vernon came charging from the living room, his walrus mustache quivering violently. He rushed forward to help Aunt Petunia lift Dudley, trying not to step in the puddle of vomit.
"What's happened to you, son? Did Mrs. Polkiss give you something bad to eat?"
"Why are you so filthy, sweetheart? Did you fall down? Wait… did muggers attack you?"
"Call the police, Vernon!" Aunt Petunia shrieked. "Call the police! Diddy, answer Mummy! What did they do to you, my darling?"
Amid all the chaos, nobody seemed to notice Harry, which suited him perfectly. He slipped into the house before Uncle Vernon shut the door and quietly headed for the stairs while his aunt and uncle noisily fussed over Dudley in the kitchen.
"Who did this to you, son? Give me their names — I'll get them for you!"
"Shh… he's trying to speak," Petunia said anxiously. "What is it, Diddy? Tell Mummy."
Harry had one foot on the staircase when Dudley finally managed to croak:
"Him."
Harry froze, his foot still on the step, face tense, waiting for the explosion.
"Boy… get in here."
Feeling both dread and anger, Harry turned back toward the Dursleys.
The kitchen looked unnaturally bright and spotless compared to the darkness outside.
Aunt Petunia sat Dudley down on a chair. He still looked pale green and weak. Uncle Vernon stood in front of the sink, glaring at Harry with narrowed eyes.
"What did you do to our son?" he growled threateningly.
"Nothing," Harry said, certain Uncle Vernon would never believe him.
"What did he do to you, Diddy?" Aunt Petunia asked in a trembling voice while wiping vomit off Dudley's chest with a sponge. "Did he use… you know… that thing on you, darling? Did he use that strange stuff?"
Slowly and fearfully, Dudley nodded.
"I didn't!" Harry snapped as Aunt Petunia wailed and Uncle Vernon raised his fists. "I didn't do anything to him — it wasn't me — it was the—"
But at that moment, a terrified owl shot through the kitchen window, barely missing Uncle Vernon's head. It circled the kitchen once and dropped a roll of parchment at Harry's feet before soaring gracefully back outside.
"OWLS!" Uncle Vernon roared as the vein on his forehead throbbed furiously. He slammed the kitchen window shut and bellowed, "No more owls in my house!"
But Harry had already opened the parchment, his heart pounding wildly.
"Dear Mr. Potter,
We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle.
To be continued