Harry Potter and The Soul Guide

Chapter-2

Even though it was mid-summer, there was still a cool breeze floating through the air. The mist was so heavy, that he wondered if he was going to be able to get to Mrs. Figg’s house okay. Quickly, he put on his invisibility cloak and walked down the street to the house where he would be flooing to the Burrow.

Finally, he reached the house, and quickly knocked on the door. An old woman peeked out from behind it, and whispered, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me Mrs. Figg, now please let me in, it’s chili out here,” Harry answered, as the cold breeze sent a chill up his spine. The mist looked like it was getting heavier, and he knew why. The mist was actually the breeding of dementors, and they could probably sense his presence.

“First let me ask you a question,” she responded, not noticing the annoyance on his face.

“Fine, but make it quick.” He was starting to get worried that there were dementors nearby, who were just waiting for him to pull off his invisibility cloak.

“What were you and Dumbledore doing the night Hogwarts was attacked?” she asked, in hopes she would get an answer.

“Mrs. Figg-,” he started. He should have known. Everyone he knew, besides Ron and Hermione, of course, had been trying to get him to answer that question for almost a month now.

“- Oh alright, alright,” she interrupted. “What are you training to be, for after you leave Hogwarts?”

“I’m training to be an auror,” he responded. “Now please let me in.”

She opened the door for him, and said, “Alright, come in, come in.”

“Thank you.” Harry entered the house that he had been in many times before, taking in the usual smell of cabbage. He put his cloak back in his trunk, and started to walk over to the fireplace, when Mrs. Figg said, “Not yet, boy. Come here and have a quick cup of tea.”

He set his trunk down and walked into the kitchen, where Mrs. Figg was brewing up a pot of tea. As he stepped into the light of the kitchen, she gasped.

“What’s happened to you?” she asked him, as she looked at him closely for the first time. He was really pale, and had circles under his eyes. Normally, he looked kind of thin, but now he looked like he hadn’t eaten anything in about a week. His eyes, which usually held spark within, looked sad and empty.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded.

“This is really hitting you hard, isn’t it,” she said, with concern in her eyes.

“What is?” he asked, knowing what the answer was.

“Dumbledore’s death.”

“Well, I suppose it’s hitting everyone hard, isn’t it,” he responded.

“Yes, well, you know, everyone is very curious as to what Dumbledore was doing the night he was killed,” she said. “It would be nice if you would just te-”

“Mrs. Figg, all will be revealed in time, but right now it is better to keep it a secret,” he replied. “And would you mind if we changed the subject, that topic is something that I don’t wish to discuss at the moment.”

“Yes, yes, fine,” she said, in an irritated sort of voice. As she handed him the cup of tea, she asked, “Are you excited about your last year at Hogwarts?”

“So it’s re-opened then?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, the governors thought it best to train the young ones, due to the current situation.”

“Yes, well, all I can say is, it’s going to be an interesting year,” he responded to her question.

“You know,” she said, “rumors are that you are the only one who can defeat You-Know-Who. The ‘Chosen One’ they’re calling you now. Silly really.”

At these last two words, she eyed him carefully, hoping to find a sign that this was true. But he refused to show any emotion, and quickly gulped down the rest of his tea.

“Yes, just silly, stupid rumors,” he replied. “Well, it’s been a nice chat, but I really think I should go now.”

Her face fell. “Of course. Get your trunk, and step into the fire.”

Quickly, he grabbed his trunk and dragged it to the fireplace. He wanted nothing more than to leave this place, and the questions that came with it.

But before he stepped into the fire, a hand grabbed his arm.

“Now you listen here, boy,” she said, “I don’t know if the ‘Chosen One’ theories are true or not, but promise me you’ll keep safe.”

“Mrs. Figg-,” he started, but she cut him off.

“Now listen, Harry, you may think people don’t care about you, but you are wrong,” she interrupted. “The whole Order is worried that you’re going to do something reckless, and I have to say, I don’t blame them. Just remember something. Your mother and father, two of the sweetest people known to wizard kind, gave their lives for you, as did Sirius and probably Dumbledore. Don’t risk their sacrafices.”

Harry just stared at her. He never knew she cared so much. After a moments silence, he responded, “I promise.”

“And you’d better keep it,” she replied. “You know what I do to people who don’t keep their promises.”

She smiled at him, and, as he remembered the way she handled Mundungus Fletcher after he left to steal some cauldrons, while he should have been keeping an eye on Harry, he couldn’t help but smile back.

“Oh... come here, boy,” she said, and she gave him a small hug. This put him in a state of shock, for she’d never shown any liking for him ever, and yet here she was, showing concern and hugging him. When he pulled away, he stepped into the fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and said, “The Burrow.”

The last thing he saw, before he left the house, was Mrs. Figg picking up her cat, and waving one of its paws, while saying, “Say goodbye, Mr. Tibbles.”