Harry swore he'd never felt this strong before.
Dudley, that big fat lump, was practically draped over half his body, putting all his weight on him—Harry's teeth were chattering from the strain.
He didn't like Dudley, sure, but not to the extent of just watching him die.
That creepy black thread from earlier had made his whole body feel off—like it was pulling him into an endless abyss.
A fear that came straight from the soul surged through him, and it was unbearable.
Just then, heavy footsteps came thundering toward them.
Startled, Harry instinctively raised his wand, spinning to face the direction of the sound.
The motion jerked Dudley upright, who promptly landed on his backside with a thud.
Harry thought the person from the shadows was coming out—but the reality was far more unexpected.
It was Mrs. Figg, the eccentric old neighbor.
She appeared before them, gasping for breath, her salt-and-pepper hair spilling out of a hairnet, and a mesh bag clinking loudly from her wrist.
Harry instinctively tried to hide his wand.
"Don't bother hiding it, you silly boy!" Mrs. Figg screeched. "What if there are more of them nearby? Oh, I swear I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"
"What?" Harry asked in confusion—he had no idea who Mundungus Fletcher even was.
If he'd ever been to Knockturn Alley, then maybe he would've known.
That guy who'd haggle over a single Knut.
"He left!" Mrs. Figg said furiously. "He said he felt a gaze that scared him. That coward ran off from just a hunch! Unbelievable."
"And now, Dementors! Good thing I had Tibbles keep watch and report to me. Oh, we don't have time to stand around, Harry—we've got to get you back right away. I swear I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"
"But…" Harry trailed off. The strange cat-loving Mrs. Figg knowing about Dementors? That surprised him almost as much as the Dementors themselves. "You're a witch?"
Harry suddenly remembered the black threads from before. With suspicion, he asked, "Was that you just now?"
"I'm a Squib. Mundungus knows all about this stuff—how could I possibly help chase off Dementors?" Mrs. Figg shook her head. "He ran off on his own, left you completely unprotected. I even warned him beforehand!"
"So this Mundungus has been following me all this time? Wait, Apparition?" Harry recalled the loud bang from earlier and immediately connected the dots.
"Exactly! Thank goodness I had Tibbles hiding under a car. And thank Merlin John Wick didn't fatten him up too much," Mrs. Figg screeched. "But by the time I got to your house, you'd already gone! Oh, what's Dumbledore going to say?"
She grumbled as she turned to tell Dudley to get up already.
"You know Dumbledore?"
Harry hadn't expected Mrs. Figg to know Dumbledore. In his shock, he instinctively glossed over the mention of John.
"Of course I know Dumbledore—who doesn't know Dumbledore?" Mrs. Figg said. "Now hurry up and get moving. If they come back, there's nothing I can do."
She urged Harry to leave quickly.
Harry was still spooked by those black threads. Dragging Dudley along, he hurried back toward Privet Drive.
On the way, Mrs. Figg kept telling him not to put his wand away.
Forget the Statute of Secrecy—they'd already used magic, so punishment was probably coming anyway. The most important thing now was staying alive.
Harry couldn't help being curious about Mrs. Figg. Out of breath, he asked, "Why didn't you ever tell me you're a Squib? I came to your house so many times. Why didn't you say anything?"
He felt like he didn't know anything—not even that his neighbor was a Squib.
How much else was he still in the dark about?
Mrs. Figg actually felt quite sorry for Harry. But Dumbledore had made it clear—just keep an eye on him, say nothing more.
She even had to pretend to dislike Harry, afraid the Dursleys wouldn't let him visit her otherwise.
By the end, she was ranting again about Mundungus. "That coward! He promised Dumbledore he'd be on watch duty. Where the blazes did he run off to? How am I supposed to explain this to Dumbledore?"
She couldn't Apparate, and now she was panicking over how to report this.
Harry offered to let her use his owl to send word.
And at the same time, he knew for sure—those black threads weren't Mrs. Figg's doing. They weren't from that Mundungus guy either.
So then… who?
Just as Harry was thinking about it, a sharp crack split the air—Mundungus had finally dared to come back.
Mrs. Figg nearly went for his throat right then and there.
Mundungus had a miserable look on his face and shouted, "You have no idea how terrifying that person is! If he saw me, he'd have killed me!"
"Dementors! Harry ran into Dementors, you useless coward!" Mrs. Figg's net bag, filled with tins of cat food, slammed into Mundungus with a loud clatter, making him yelp in pain.
"Eh?" He stared in disbelief. "Dementors? What the hell were they doing here?!"
Shielding his head with his arms, he said, "Well, good thing Harry's okay. You took care of them?"
"No… it wasn't me," Harry said, eyeing this newcomer—so this was Mundungus, then. He added gloomily, "There was someone there. I don't know who."
That stopped Mrs. Figg in her tracks. She didn't even have the energy to keep hitting him.
She urged Harry to head back quickly. Mundungus, pale-faced, bolted off to report to Dumbledore.
When they reached Privet Drive, Mrs. Figg didn't follow Harry any further. She had to wait for further instructions, so she returned home.
That left Harry, dragging Dudley, to trudge slowly toward the Dursley house.
He didn't notice that, up in the unlit attic of the Wick residence, a pair of eyes was watching him silently.
...
"Truly a treasure," a voice muttered.
John stood by the window, his expression calm and distant.
Dumbledore really had gone all out for Harry—practically charting out every step of his life from beginning to end.
A life like that—hard to say whether it was enviable or just plain pitiful.
"That self-important old man… does he really think he can control everything?"
John glanced toward the direction Mundungus had fled, a cold smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Mundungus… I've treated you well."
He had always turned a blind eye to Mundungus's antics.
Back then, it was just to keep Dumbledore feeling reassured.
But now? John had no intention of letting someone plant a nail in Johnny Silverhand's Specialty Shop.
Over the past while, he'd already had others quietly take over much of Mundungus's responsibilities, systematically cutting him out.
Mundungus still thought he was being favored—he even started acting like a hands-off boss, with time to spare for Dumbledore's errands.
Little did he know, he was standing just a step away from the edge of the cliff, the next gust of wind ready to send him tumbling out of Johnny Silverhand's Specialty Shop for good.
"I treated you well… it's a pity you don't know how to be grateful."
John really didn't understand—if Dumbledore truly cared about Mundungus, then before John came along, why had he been scraping by in poverty?
With Dumbledore's influence and reputation, giving Mundungus a decent job would've been the easiest thing in the world… or maybe Mundungus just didn't like working?
John was the one who had given him everything—a comfortable house, endless Galleons, and a position of swaggering authority.
All that, and it still couldn't buy Mundungus's loyalty?
Humans really are pathetic—eagerly accepting kindness, only to go scurrying back the moment Dumbledore so much as beckons.
"If he doesn't want it, then fine. Let him go."
John watched as an owl flew toward the Dursley house—it seemed like things were about to get interesting.
Harry had used quite a bit of magic outside of school. John was quite curious to see how Dumbledore planned to protect him this time.
With a flicker of thought, John's figure gradually faded.
He had cast a Disillusionment Charm, intent on witnessing the commotion at the Dursleys' firsthand.
…
At the Dursley residence—
When the couple saw their son looking so sickly and weak, they were immediately thrown into a panic.
Vernon's usual attempt at good temper snapped. He roared furiously at Harry.
"What did you do to my son?!"
After all that groveling, he thought things had finally settled down—only for Harry to end up hurting Dudley.
"I didn't do anything," Harry replied, looking at his now-unmasked Uncle Vernon.
The two of them quickly fell into another argument—and right in the middle of it, an owl swooped in through the air.
It dropped a large parchment envelope at Harry's feet, then turned with graceful indifference and flew away.
Harry tore open the envelope, and when he read the letter inside, he froze completely.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We have received intelligence that at 9:23 this evening, in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle, you performed a Patronus Charm.
This constitutes a serious breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, and as such, you have been expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
A representative from the Ministry of Magic will soon arrive at your residence to destroy your wand.
___________
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