Have you ever wondered how you would i with a Harry Potter character to get to know them?To do this, you would already have to mao meet one.Wizards and witches hide from muggles, making the task even more difficult.Unlike you, I be from three advantages here.First, although she hides her true identity, I have already met the person who will ect me to the world of magic.

  Sed, my name is Boy.

  (Or Harry Potter if you don't listen to my aunt or uncle).

  Third, I remember everything that has happeo me siober 31, 1981, until today.

  How my father sacrificed himself to dey him.

  How my mother refused to fight back, choosing to die in my pce.

  How the fateful green light of his spell touched my forehead and marked me as the saviour of Magic Britain.

  I saw that lich flee and I know he will return.

  I don't pn to stay idle waiting for him.

  Hence my pn for today.

  Arabel Figg has been living at Privet Drive for a few years now, and the Dursleys have gotten into the habit of abusing her kindness into watg me when they leave the house to have fun, go to the fair, the movies, the zoo, or anywhere else they would never want to have to put up with me.

  This happened a lot more than in the ical world because I purposely pined about her. I hope she won't be mad at me; it was the best way to be sent to her house, who knows why...

  So, there's no question of putting up with me, especially not on the sacred day of Duddlism.

  Before finding myself in this world, I never realized how strange and fusing this practice was. (Disgusting too but far be it from me to want to influenyone's opinion).

  To represent this practice to you, I would first ask you to imagihe unnatural union of a jealous and snderous giraffe with a proud and braying hippopotamus.

  At adulthood, the homunculus thus obtained will have the ability to have a brain smaller than that of an ostrich, to exceed its progenitor by two (human) heads, and to be heavier thaer by a good hundred kilos, if ernal intervention es to hihis said practice which will then have risen to the rank of cult.

  Having only three official and reized members, this movement would fortunately disappear with the death of the homunculus, either from a heart attack, iable given his deplorable state of health, or from the fruits of his own snder and nuisances on his enviro and the octs of it. Please hat the practitioners of the cult will never reize the faults of their object of worship and that any attempt to discuss this subject is doomed to failure.

  On this June 28, the most sacred day of Duddlism, my uncle and my aunt took their favourite homunculus, (they liked to call him "son”, “Dudleykins ?, or simply “Duddley") for a ride in the suburbs of the capital, in order to make him try all the rides to which he was entitled (after he had started to whine and his mother had tried in vain to influence, bribe or intimidate managers) among the many attras present at the fair this summer.

  Far from their pce of fun and capricious howling, I was seated quietly having tea with biscuits.

  “You’re a squib.”

  "Pardon?" Mrs. Figg replied, surprise evident on her fabsp;

  "You're a squib. But it doesn't matter if you don't have magic. The important thing is to be o everyone."

  "Who told you about magic, Harry?"

  "Mom and Dad used to do magic. But we shouldn't do it in front of muggles like Uncle Vernon and Auunia because it scares them."

  I said this with the air of pure innoce that a child have when he proudly recites one of the lessons that his parents taught him at length and patiently, before taking a cake, as if my revetion was the most obvious thing in the world.

  Mrs. Figg was stunned. Since Professor Dumbledore had assigned her this mission, she had never imagihat her cover would be exposed in this way. I khat Professor had warned her of the dangerousness of her mission, especially for a person like her g magibsp;

  When he had recruited her, she had uood that she would have to watch over me but also, if possible, protect me against Death Eaters or their supporters. She had several artifacts in her small house inteo help her save time. If only so that she could grab hold of me and activate the emergency portkey that the Professor himself had prepared.

  (No, I don't have a system or the special "observation" ability so dear to gamers, I'm simply moving forward a little by using information for this description that will be revealed to me ter).

  A thousand questions raced through her mind, she wondered if the Dursleys had expined certain things to me about my family, if she had the right to admit what I had just said or not? The most important above all, did I reveal to my uncle and my aunt that she had a link with the much-heralded world of magic.

  "Hav’. Have you ever talked about this with them?"

  "No, you definitely shouldn't talk to them about magic. Afterwards they turn red and swell until they explode."

  She remained silent in front of me for several long mihinking.

  Finally, she asked me.

  "Harry. you go py in front of the house with Mr Paw for a moment? I have to make a call for a moment."

  Mr Paws.

  It was the name of one of her cats.

  I k was a cat-Kneazle cross, like the future or current Crookshanks. (Please be kind to me about its age, even though the dy Hermione bought it from didn't know how old it was at the time of sale).

  I followed her reendations a into the garden. Mr Paws showed off his abilities ied from his kneazle side. He ook his eyes off me, like a silent guardian.

  Meanwhile Mrs. Figg was making her call while she corrected her makeup in front of a small powder pact pced in front of her oable. You will have uood, it was undoubtedly the same brand of mirror as the ohat Sirius and James used when they were younger.

  (I saw her through the window).

  I also uood why Professor Dumbledore had givehis role of long-term sleeper agent. No wizard could have pyed this role to perfe like she did.

  About ten minutes had passed when Mr Paws started staring at a tabby cat who had just arrived at the same time as an old man dressed in a simple purple suit.

  Unlike his future appearances where he will retain his wizard's outfit in all circumstances, Professor Dumbledore here demonstrated a remarkable capacity for camoufge. Only his long grey beard could have made passers-by turn around.

  The cat who apanied him approached Mr Paws then sat down a few steps from him.

  "Hello Sir." I said to him, before turning to the sed perso.

  “Be careful, Mr Paws only pys with real cats. If you approach him, he will scratch you.”

  The cat and the old man looked at me open-mouthed, then, without there being any need for unicatioween them, separated. Oo kno the door which opened for him immediately, the other remained, at a good distance from Mr Paws, watg me itle garden which separated Mrs Figg's house from the street.

  "My godfather Padfoot isn't a real dog either. And Uncle Wormtail isn't a real rat either. Mom ofte me ride on Dad's back when he was a magic stag, but that was before the bad man came with Uncle Wormtail." I said to her in a sad tone.

  The cat, who had been staring at me until then, suddenly froze when she uood the meaning of what I had just told her.

  Three of her students at Hogwarts had achieved the feat of being animagi without anyone disc their secret.

  And if she had correctly uood the enormity of the st information I had just given, one of them had perhaps been locked up for almost four years for a crime he had not itted.

  Not more than five minutes had passed before Mrs. Figg's front door opened again. She invited Mr Paws, the new cat ao e in before closing it behind us directly.

  Professor Dumbledore was at the table, waiting for us.

  Mrs. Figg had just closed the door when the new cat gave way to a dy of severe demeanour, whose face showed the surprise that she had just learned.

  Professonagall approached Professor Dumbledore to whisper a few words in his ear. The old wizard's face twitched for just a split sed before refog on me.

  - Hello, Harry.

  - Hello, Professor Dumbledore.

  (Professonagall and Mrs. Figg were surprised again).

  - If you don't mind Harry, who told you, my name?

  - You already came to see mom and dad when we were pying hide and seek.

  - I see, who were you hiding from, Harry?

  - From the evil bald man.

  The professor couldn't suppress a small s the description of the man who had made Britain tremble for decades.

  - Professonagall told me that your father and his friends could transform themselves, you tell me what animals they did?

  Ah, “How to Question a Five-Year-Old Child Without Traumatizing Him,” by Professor Dumbledore, let’s go for the roundabout questions.

  - Godfather-Padfoot as a bck dog, Uncle-Wormtail as a rat, Daddy-Prongs as a big stag. Uncle-Moony is the only one who couldn’t show me his transformation, the moon makes him all crazy and mean, so he locks himself away all the time so as not to hurt people.

  A look of silent uanding passed between the adults present as each of them associated the niames I had just stated with the identities of the wizards they knew.

  - Professonagall also tells me that you saw someone e to your house with that evil bald man?

  (If you could see the faces of Professonagall and Mrs. Figg every time Professor Dumbledore used that niame, I regret not being able to take a photo of them. Oh yeah, we put a patent on names or not among wizards? I'll have to check).

  - Yes, Uncle-Wormtail, he called him his teacher when he was looking for him after the house went boom. He took his magid and the before Mr. Gentle Giant arrived.

  - Are you sure, Harry, that it was your uncle-Wormtail who arrived with this evil bald man? Did you see yodfather that evening?

  - Yes, it was Uncle-Wormtail, Godfather-Padfoot arrived after the gentle giant a him his flying motorcycle. It was the first time I rode on it; mom never allowed me to before.

  - Harry, I need you to try to do me a big favour. Will you help me, my boy?

  - Yes, sir. I said, nodding my head.

  - I would like you to think very hard about what happehat evening. I know it's a painful and difficult memory, but it might help us uand what happeo your parents. Do you want it?

  - I'll try, sir.

  I then closed my eyes and trated while waiting for him to act. It wasn't very difficult to uand what he was getting at and soon, I felt the tip of the elder ressing lightly against my temple. The tact didn't even st a sed before the professor spoke to me again.

  - Harry, you were very ceous, and I gratute you. We're going to leave you with Mrs. Figg, because I must go meet several people about what you told me today. If you o talk to us, let her know, she find us. Did you uand?

  - Yes, sir. Does that mean Godfather Padfoot and my uncles will be able to e see me now? If I don't tell my uncle and aunt, they won't be angry.

  A glint of sadhen passed into his eyes in front of my puppy eyes.

  - It will depend on a lot of things, my boy. But I promise you that you won't be alone anymore.

  The teachers left the room leavih Mrs. Figg, the old dy's feelings were visible, as she held me in her arms for the rest of the day.

  Although I artly ag for these adults, that didn't mean I didn't feel anything. I had love a for these parents who had been taken from me, this family which had been torn apart by betrayal.

  I would do anything to restore it.