Chapter One
"The Terrible Mr. Tiddles"

Page One

"Get your ruddy bottom out of that bed," came the shrill voice of Aunt Petunia through Harry's bedroom door.

Harry groaned and turned over on his side. He was dreading the coming day. It was late June and it was the day for the Dursley family outing. Of course, this event didn't include Harry. Harry was to go to the home of Mrs. Figg, an old insane woman who lived in the neighborhood. Harry had managed to stay away from her house for the past three years completely due to luck, but this year he wasn't quite so lucky. The Dursleys made sure that when they made their plans to go to Majorca for the weekend Mrs. Figg would be able to keep Harry. When Harry was 11, on Dudley's birthday, Harry just managed to steer clear of another visit with Mrs. Figg because she had tripped over one of her many cats, breaking her leg. He spent three happy summer holidays away from Mrs. Figg, her house that smelled of rotten cabbages and her many cats. Now his luck had run out.

Harry slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and flopped onto the floor, leaving a trail of sheets spilling over the side of his mattress.

Another rap was heard at the door. "Listen, Boy!" bellowed Uncle Vernon. "You won't be spoiling our trip by making us late! Hurry yourself or I'll have to come in and hurry you myself and I know that you know you don't want me to have to do that!"

"Okay, okay," moaned Harry, climbing up to his feet.

"Good," said Uncle Vernon through the door. "Now make the bed, clean your room, come make my bed and Dudley's and scrub the bathrooms. Your Aunt Petunia doesn't want to leave a dirty house."

"Ugh," grunted Harry. He pulled his sheets back up on the bed, which were torn and battered. The Dursleys wouldn't let him use the newer clean sheets ("You'll only set them on fire or something," claimed Aunt Petunia).

Harry pulled on his clothes and then he started tidying his room. Which of course only took him a minute, since he didn't have any toys or excess clothes to lay about the room, thus meaning that his room was almost always spotless.

After his room was clean he went into Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's room, made their bed and then went to Dudley's room. Harry knocked on the door, which was plastered with signs and posters proudly proclaiming the room "Dudley's Hideout".

"What is it?" came the snotty reply of Dudley from within the room.

"Your dad told me to make your bed," called Harry through the door.

"Alright then," said Dudley. "Come in, but don't, you know, don't do anything."

Harry pushed the door open to find Dudley sitting on his bed, reading a comic book and munching on a Mondo Munchies nougat bar. Clothes, toys and comic books were thrown all over the room.

"What happened in here?" asked Harry incredulously. "A tornado?"

"Keep your wise cracks to yourself, weirdo," said Dudley. "Now do as your told, clean my room and make my bed."

Harry eyed Dudley blankly for a moment. Dudley looked up at Harry. "Well?" he said in a nasty rhetorical tone. "Why aren't you busying yourself? Get on with it!"

Harry bent down and began picking up the mess in Dudley's room. When, half an hour later, Harry had finally finished, he turned to Dudley who was still sitting on the bed, eating his tenth Mondo Munchie bar.

"I need to make your bed now," said Harry blandly.

"Yeah, so get on with it," replied Dudley.

"I can't very well make your bed with your rump on it, can I?" retorted Harry.

Dudley looked up at Harry. He rolled his eyes and removed himself from the room brushing by Harry, nearly knocking Harry to the floor.

Harry made Dudley's bed and threw out the candy bar wrappers. He left the room, went down the hall and traipsed down the stairs.

"What took you so long?" barked Uncle Vernon, spraying bits of toast crumbs from his mouth.

"Dudley made me clean up his room," said Harry, casting a look at Dudley that made Dudley sink in his chair.

"Nonsense," mumbled Uncle Vernon. "You were just too slow. No breakfast will be given to poor workers. Now go mow the lawn and then pack your bags in the car. You need to be over to Mrs. Figg's within the hour."

Harry was standing open mouthed, shocked that he would have to go without breakfast.

Aunt Petunia came over and slapped Harry on the back with a wet towel. "Go on! Do as you're told!"

Harry stormed out the back door, rubbing his back.

"We need to teach that boy some discipline," snorted Uncle Vernon.

"You're quite right as always dear," cooed Aunt Petunia.

"I still say we should send him to Stonewall High instead of sending him to that vial school of you-know-what," Uncle Vernon stuffed another piece of toast in his mouth, smacking loudly.

"Maybe Stonewall would still take him," said Aunt Petunia optimistically.

Dudley just sat in his chair, stuffing his face with sausages and listening intently to every word his parents were saying. His favorite hobby was planning ways to torture Harry, but a close second for his favorite was watching his parents enacting horrible plans to ensure Harry would be uncomfortable and miserable.

"I'll have to ring Stonewall and find out," said Uncle Vernon, standing up from the table. "I'm going to go do that right now in fact. No sense in wasting time."

"Good idea, darling," Aunt Petunia picked up Uncle Vernon's plate and placed it in the sink. "You were always the clever one."

Harry was in the back shed, trying to extract the lawn mower from underneath a pile of camping gear that Dudley had gotten for his birthday. (Of course, it had not been used and it looked like it would be in that shed for a very long time.)

When Harry had finally gotten the lawnmower out after straining both his arms and his back, he brought it out to the back lawn and began to mow.

Forty-five minutes later, sweat running down his face, Harry was finished. He put the mower back in the shed and marched up to the back door and walked into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was sitting in the living room, flipping through a magazine.

"You're all filthy, Boy!" she exclaimed, "Go soak your head and then take that luggage out to the car." She pointed to a very large pile of gigantic, flowery suitcases that looked as if they were about to explode because of all the things that had been crammed into them.

Harry went upstairs and quickly hopped in the shower and hopped right back out. He didn't want to miss lunch because Uncle Vernon usually thought that Harry was playing in the tub, wasting time.

Harry dressed himself in clean clothes, grabbed his suitcases and went back down the stairs. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were sitting at the kitchen table, eating thick sandwiches, piled high with turkey, ham, lettuce and sumptuous bacon. Uncle Vernon called from the kitchen, "After you're finished with those satchels you can have some crackers and cheese that Petunia left out for you."

Harry moaned to himself and started to put the suitcases in the car. After much hoisting, pulling and cramming of various bags, he managed to shove all of them into the Dursley family car. Harry would have to hold his own suitcase on his lap because Dudley's computer was taking up all of the extra room. Why any child needed to lug a large computer around while going on holiday was beyond Harry's comprehension. Although, anything Dudley did was usually beyond Harry's comprehension so he didn't let it bother him as he continued to cram as much as he could into the back of the car.

Harry walked back in the house and into the kitchen. He sat at the table and Aunt Petunia shoved a paper plate of saltine crackers in front of him. "There's some squeeze-cheese in the fridge, get it yourself."

As hungry as he was, the idea of squeeze-able cheese smeared on crackers wasn't in the least an appetizing thought, so he ate what was in front of him quickly and silently.

Uncle Vernon looked at his watch and then got up from the table. "Well," he said. "It's time to go. Everyone in the car, Majorca here we come!"

"Yippee!" exclaimed Dudley, who bolted from the table.

Aunt Petunia came to the table and cleared the dishes. She put the towel she had been using to clean the other dishes on the counter and left the kitchen.

Harry quickly threw his plate away and ran after the Dursleys. He grabbed his bag of clothes and raced out into the car. He just managed to get in the car before Uncle Vernon drove out of the driveway.

"Don't forget to drop Harry off at Mrs. Figg's, Vernon dear," Aunt Petunia mentioned while shuffling through her handbag.

"Yeah, right," muttered Uncle Vernon.

The car went through the neighborhood until they came to a house that looked overgrown and old. Uncle Vernon stopped the car and barked, "Out, Harry!"

Harry grabbed the door handle and jumped out of the car, his bag of clothes held tightly in his hand.

An old woman who looked distinctly disheveled came out of the house, waving at the Dursleys.

"Hullo, Mrs. Figg!" called Uncle Vernon from his open car window.

"Good day, Mr. Dursley," said Mrs. Figg.

"Thanks for taking him for so long, Mrs. Figg," said Uncle Vernon.

So long? Thought Harry, They're only going to be gone for the weekend.

"It's not a problem, sir," replied Mrs. Figg. "Mr. Tiddles has been lonely lately, he will enjoy the company."

"Who's Mr. Tiddles?" whispered Dudley to his mother.

"That's one of her cats," replied Aunt Petunia quietly. Dudley started laughing so hard that he fell over, flat on the back seat.

"I'm sure he will," said Uncle Vernon. "Good day, Mrs. Figg."

"Cheerio, Mr. Dursley! See you later!" called Mrs. Figg, waving at the Dursley's car, which was now speeding down the street.

"Well, Mr. Potter," said Mrs. Figg, "Let's go inside and I'll introduce you to my newest tenants."

Harry picked up his bag, not saying a word and followed Mrs. Figg into her house.

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