#saw a woman in town today with a similar haircut to me (brown hair and shirt back and sides) wearing a black t shirt and short black shorts

[mightydyke]

The thing about being butch/masc/gnc/whatever is sometimes you see a woman who is also butch/masc/etc and she looks so much like me or has such similar style to me it's like the worlds best jumpscare

[theazkabandreamer]

The Lucky Birthday

A belated Happy Birthday to Harry Potter. Can also be read here.

___

Birthdays were supposed to be fun- At least that’s what Harry Potter was supposed to believe. But his birthdays were never fun.

To him, a birthday was just another day when he was chased by Dudley and shouted at by Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. This year for his birthday, he was stuck at batty Mrs Figg’s house for a week whilst the Dursley’s were holidaying in Spain.

Mrs Figg’s house was crawling with cats. Everywhere Harry turned, he would be greeted by the sight of one. He found them in the flowerbeds, hiding in saucepans and he got a shock many years ago when he accidentally sat on a cat that was hiding under the sofa cushions.

But Harry didn’t have time to relax; Mrs Figg made Harry clean the floors, empty the litter boxes and when he had nothing to do, Mrs Figg made him look at the photos of every cat she had owned.

Mrs Figg had a new cat called Winnie. Harry thought that Winnie was the strangest cat that Mrs Figg had owned. Far stranger than Tibbles, Snowy, Mr Paws and Tufty.  

Winnie would be constantly watching Harry as he did his chores for Mrs Figg. He had an impression that he had seen the cat before, but he couldn’t remember where.

Even though he was bored to death, at least he was able to watch what he wanted on the telly and the food wasn’t too bad. It may be slightly overcooked and the cabbage unbearable to eat, but at least he didn’t have Dudley nicking everything.

_____

On the morning of his birthday, he woke to the smell of cooking. He got up and made sure that there wasn’t a cat hiding underneath his camp bed and entered Mrs Figg’s kitchen to see her at the cooker.

Three cats were sitting on the counter, sniffing the air as Harry sat at the table.  

“Oh, good, you’re up,” Mrs Figg said briskly, tipping the contents of the pan onto a large plate. “You’ve got a busy day today. Eat up.”

She put the plate on the kitchen table and Harry looked to see something swimming in gravy. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.

“What’s that?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“Liver and bacon,” Mrs Figg said at once and Harry’s stomach did a summersault.

“I’d rather have eggs,” Harry said, pushing the plate back.

“Nonsense,” Mrs Figg snapped. “A skinny thing like you needs a hearty meal to start the day.”

“I like being skinny,” Harry said reproachfully.

Being the smallest and skinniest of his class, Harry found he had a manoeuvrability advantage which he used to get away from Dudley and his gang. It had been months since Dudley had punched him on the nose.

“If you’re not going to eat it, I’ll feed it to the cats and you can go without,” Mrs Figg said.

Several cats peered around the doorway and a fat ginger cat stuck its head from out of a flower pot. Harry groaned, admitting defeat. He couldn’t go a whole day without having any breakfast so he grabbed the plate and began eating.

It didn’t taste as bad as Harry feared, but he wouldn’t have it again. Dudley certainly wouldn’t have it- He would’ve screamed and knocked over the table.

After he had eaten all he could, he fed the leftover pieces of liver to the cats and jumped down from the table, but Mrs Figg called him back.

“Your Aunt has a birthday present for you,” she said, holding a rectangular package wrapped in brown paper. “I believe you’re seven today. You’re almost a big boy.”

Harry wasn’t particularly excited about his presents. Unlike Dudley-who was lavished with lots of presents- Harry’s presents always turned out to be disappointing.

Last year, the Dursleys got him a coat hanger for his birthday as Aunt Petunia was fed up of him leaving his clothes around the house.

As expected, Harry’s present turned out to be disappointing. It was a tube of toothpaste.

“At least they’re thinking of your teeth,” Mrs Figg said, looking at the scowl on Harry’s face. “Now, I want you washed and dressed. I have something I want you to do for me.”

Harry proceeded to Mrs Figg’s tiny bathroom full of dread. Whatever Mrs Figg wanted him to do, it wasn’t going to be fun.

Once Harry was washed and dressed, he entered the kitchen to find Mrs Figg present him with a shopping list and some money. He was told to get a bus into town and get the things on the list.

____

Ten minutes later, Harry found himself at the bus stop. It was a hot day and the sun glared down on him. He also had a funny feeling that he was being watched.

Once the bus arrived, Harry found himself sat between some irritable woman at the front and loud teenagers at the back.

The teenagers were ignoring him but the irritable women kept shooting him dirty looks and muttering under their breath about him.

“Who in their right mind would send a child on the bus all on his own?”

“Some women shouldn’t be mothers,”

“She could’ve at least dressed him properly. The state of his clothes!”

“The state of his hair! He needs to get down to the barbers and get himself a haircut!”

Harry ignored them and spent the journey looking out of the window, watching as the bus drove past his and Dudley’s school.

Harry watched the grim Victorian building with its red bricks, high windows and iron railings go past and he miserably reminded himself that he would see it again in September.

_____

There was a market taking place and the town was packed. Harry went from shop to shop getting the items on Mrs Figg’s list. He got the lamb hearts and liver from the butchers, the tins of cat food from the supermarket, the tuna from the fishmongers and the bread from the bakers.

After he got the items from the shopping list, he ticked them off.

At each shop he went to, he was met with stares and he heard people whispering about him and making similar comments to the women on the bus.  

As Harry headed to the greengrocers for the last items, he had a funny feeling that he was being followed. He looked up and down the street but it was full of people going about their business.

Maybe he was imagining it. It was a hot day and the heat did funny things to the mind.

He spotted Dudley’s friend, Piers Polkiss in the greengrocers and he hid behind the grapefruits in case Piers spotted him.

But Piers was too busy being embarrassed by his mother who was loudly telling her friend about the Polkiss’s summer holiday plans.

Harry was hidden for fifteen minutes and bored senseless as Mrs Polkiss gave her friend a complete itinerary of their travel plans. He wished the Polkiss’s would hurry up and fly to Paris- He was going to be late!

It happened suddenly; a pigeon flew into the greengrocers and Mrs Polkiss let out an almighty shriek as it landed on her head. Her friend fainted as Mrs Polkiss fell sideways, sending the coconuts rolling around the shop and causing people to trip over.

Piers jumped back knocking over the stand of raspberries and sending them flying. The pigeon flapped around the shop and the manager grabbed a broom and chased it out.

Harry- who was trying not to laugh- spotted a cat running into the shop, looking around for the pigeon.

It took him a moment to realise that the cat belonged to Mrs Figg. It was her new cat, Winnie. Was it Winnie who was following him all this time? Harry knew she was an odd one.

Not willing to explain to Mrs Figg why her cat was missing, Harry ducked out from his hiding place and approached the cat who was looking for something.

“Winnie,” he hissed, trying not to attract attention.

The cat gave Harry a sharp look and turned around and to Harry’s confusion, trotted out of the shop.

With his arms numb with pins and needles, Harry followed Winnie who stopped and looked back at him expectantly.

“You- you want me to follow you?” Harry muttered.

The cat sat down, eyeing Harry with a look reminiscent of a stern schoolmistress.

Harry headed out of the shop, past Mrs Polkiss who was giving the manager of the shop a piece of her mind and gesturing to Piers who was drenched in raspberry juice and looking thoroughly embarrassed.

Harry stifled a laugh behind his hand as he left the shop and followed Winnie up the street.

“Mrs Figg will be looking for you,” Harry said to Winnie who stopped and sat down again, staring at him. “We need to get you home.”

The cat continued to stare at him as Harry made his way to the bus stop. Harry could feel its eyes bore into the back of his head like one of Uncle Vernon’s drills.

“Why are you just sitting there?” Harry asked exasperatedly, turning around to face the cat. “We’ve got to go back to Mrs Figg.”

But the cat just sat there, staring at him expectantly. Harry had a funny feeling that he had forgotten something.

“But I’ve got everything,” he said out loud, attracting some funny looks from some passers-by.

Harry pulled out the shopping list that Mrs Figg gave him and looked at it. He seemed to have ticked off everything on the list:

He had got Mrs Figg her cat food, her bread, her lambs’ hearts and liver. He had gone into the fishmongers for some tuna. He had just come from the greengrocers with her fruit and cabbage. What could he be missing?

Then it hit him.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry exclaimed. “I’ve forgotten the eggs!”

The cat ran off at once and Harry had to run to catch up with it. He soon found himself outside a newsagent. He went in and bought the eggs.

As he left, he saw the cat eating someone’s discarded fish supper. Once the cat had finished, it licked its lips and followed him up the street.

_____

It was mid-afternoon and Harry was starting to get hungry. The liver and bacon seemed like a lifetime ago. Harry headed to the market with Winnie the cat following him. Mrs Figg had given him a lot of money and he still had some left.

As it was his birthday, he thought he could at least buy himself a present. He couldn’t buy anything that he could keep forever- Dudley would have it off him faster than you could blink. But it didn’t mean that he couldn’t have something tasty to eat.

There were cheese stalls, fish stalls, meat stalls and stalls that sold the beer that Uncle Vernon would dismiss as ‘foreign muck’.

The cat gave Harry a dirty look as he passed the beer stall.

“I can’t buy a beer, I’m too young,” Harry told it, feeling as if he had been told off. The cat sped up forcing Harry to jog to keep up with it.

Harry held his nose as he went past the olive stall and saw a stand selling fresh doughnuts. Harry’s mouth watered; The Dursleys never allowed him to eat doughnuts despite allowing Dudley to do so.

A minute later, he was sitting on a bench eating a large sugared doughnut and it was the most delicious thing he had tasted. It was even better than cake!

Harry sat on the bench, watching what was happening. Little Whinging was busy as people rushed about the shops in a constant state of hurry.

He always felt as if he didn’t belong here. People always looked down their noses at him as if he were a piece of dirt. But it wasn’t like he could get away from the place- He was stuck here.

Winnie the cat was sitting at a short distance from him and Harry had a distinct impression that the cat was guarding him. He could see the cat looking up and down the street as it was expecting something to swoop down and attack Harry.

_____

It was getting late and Harry looked at his watch, certain that Mrs Figg was wondering where he was. He got up from the bench and went to the bus stop. The cat followed him there and once he got on the bus, he looked out of the window to see that the cat had vanished.

Harry felt his spirits sink. He had no idea how he was going to explain to Mrs Figg that he had somehow lost her cat when it had followed him to town.

Harry spent the bus journey in a bad mood and stepped miserably off the bus, not noticing Winnie following him back to Mrs Figg’s house.

When he walked up to Mrs Figg’s front door, it burst open and he had to jump out of the way as seven cats came scurrying out of the front door. Harry gulped as he came face to face with a furious Mrs Figg.

“What sort of time do you call this, boy?” she snapped. “If you had been any longer, I would’ve reported you missing! Have you got my shopping?”

With shaking hands, Harry handed her the bags and she checked her list.

“I see you’re not as useless as your Aunt says you are,” she said. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come in and help me put the shopping away.”

“Mrs Figg, your cat,” Harry said panickedly. “Winnie followed me into town and when I got back on the bus, it disappeared. I swear I didn’t do anything to it, I promise!

“Calm down, boy!” Mrs Figg said sharply. “You don’t need to worry about Winnie. She’s always wandering off on her own. Here she is now.”

Harry was both shocked and relieved to see Winnie the cat sitting on the kitchen table, looking at Harry with those stern eyes.

The cat continued to watch Harry as he put the shopping away for Mrs Figg which wasn’t easy. Every cupboard he opened, a cat was hiding behind it. He got a shock when he opened the fridge to see a fluffy white cat tucking into Mrs Figg’s ham.

By the time he was finished, Harry was exhausted; His arms were aching from carrying the shopping and his legs ached from all that walking.

“Well, that’s everything,” Mrs Figg said. “I’m going to start preparing dinner. You can go and make yourself scarce. Have a look at what’s on the telly.”

“We’re not having liver again, are we?” Harry asked dubiously.

“I’ll think about it,” Mrs Figg said brusquely. “Now run along.”

Before Harry could move, Winnie the cat moved towards him, nuzzling her head on Harry’s arm. Harry scratched the cat’s head and it closed its eyes lazily, enjoying the fuss. The cat then looked to the kitchen doorway as if it was dismissing Harry.

 Harry headed to Mrs Figg’s cluttered living room, where he checked for any cats hiding in the sofa cushions before sitting down and turning on the telly.

After his busy trip, his body ached with tiredness. Today had turned out rather well. He managed to get everything on Mrs Figg’s list, saw Piers Polkiss completely humiliated and didn’t get punished for losing Mrs Figg’s cat.

Out of all of his birthdays, Harry had to admit that this was the best one. Maybe seven was a lucky number after all. With those comforting thoughts, Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep straight away.

 _______

Back in the kitchen, Mrs Figg gently closed the door. She was relieved that the boy came home in one piece. It was a good thing that she sent Winnie to watch over him. She glanced at the tabby who was still sitting on the table and approached it.

“It was a good thing that you were here today,” Mrs Figg said quietly. “I couldn’t have pulled it off it wasn’t for you, Professor McGonagall,”

Mrs Figg turned to look at the cat only to see that the cat had gone and a tall woman wearing emerald green robes stood next to the kitchen table.

She had a stern face, square spectacles and her hair was pulled up in a tight bun.

“No problem, Arabella,” Professor McGonagall said. “The boy was no trouble at all. It amazes me how he looks so much like James, but with Lily’s eyes.”

“I was startled by the resemblance myself,” Mrs Figg said. “Did he get anything for his birthday? I made sure to leave just enough money for him to buy a little something for himself.”

“All he was interested in was a doughnut,” Professor McGonagall said looking rather amused. “You should’ve seen his face, Arabella. I’ve never seen a child get so excited over a doughnut.”

“I don’t think his Aunt and Uncle allow him to have something like that,” Mrs Figg said thoughtfully. “They give him the bare minimum whilst letting that awful lump of a son stuff his face.”  

“I told Dumbledore that those Muggles were the worst sort imaginable, but he wouldn’t listen,” Professor McGonagall said disapprovingly.

“I don’t think I’m in a position to question Dumbledore, Minerva,” Mrs Figg said. “The best I can do is watch over the boy and make sure he’s safe.”

“I believe he gets bullied,” Professor McGonagall said sadly. “He was trying to avoid a boy his age in the greengrocers. He was a short boy, face like a rat.”

“Piers Polkiss?” Mrs Figg asked, frowning. “I believe that he’s friends with Dudley. I’ve seen them trying to chase Harry. That boy is a nasty piece of work. I never trusted him since ten pounds went missing from my purse. The boy said he didn’t do it, but Tibbles returned with the money. The Polkiss boy has been avoiding me ever since.”

“He was in there for such a long time, I had to cause a distraction,” Professor McGonagall said. “The Polkiss boy got drenched with raspberry juice in the process. Harry got a good laugh out of it though.”

“I would’ve liked to have seen that,” Mrs Figg said, smiling at the prospect of a happy Harry. “It’s about time that that thieving boy got his comeuppance. There are plenty of times when I wish I could give Harry a hug. I sometimes think I’ve been too hard on the boy, but I can’t break my cover. The best I can do is make sure the boy is safe.”

Mrs Figg’s voice cracked and Professor McGonagall whipped a tissue out from her robes.

“Have a tissue, Arabella,” Professor McGonagall said, patting Mrs Figg on the arm comfortingly. “I know it’s hard. I had to watch Dumbledore place the boy on his Aunt and Uncle’s doorstep that night.  It was a good suggestion of yours to get the boy out for his birthday. He’s very bright for his age.”

Mrs Figg blew her nose and gently opened the door and peeked her head in the living room to check up on Harry. She saw the boy sitting on the sofa fast asleep with three of her cats sleeping close to him. He looked as if all of his troubles had melted away.

Mrs Figg wished that he looked like that when he was awake, but orders were orders and Dumbledore trusted her to watch over him.

“How is he?” Professor McGonagall whispered.

“See for yourself,” Mrs Figg said and Professor McGonagall peered around the living room door.

Mrs Figg saw Professor McGonagall’s expression soften as she looked at Harry. She took a tissue from her robes and blew her nose.

“I’ll let him sleep for a while and then do his dinner,” Mrs Figg said. “The poor boy needs it.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Professor McGonagall said quietly. “And for heaven’s sake Arabella, don’t go giving the poor boy liver again. There would be an almighty riot if we served it for breakfast at Hogwarts. If he wants eggs then cook him some for his birthday. After all, it’s not every day that you’re seven.”

“Four years until he comes to you, Minerva,” Mrs Figg said.

“I look forward to it,” Professor McGonagall said, smiling at Mrs Figg. “The day Harry Potter returns to our world will be a day of great celebration. Give the boy a biscuit for me.”

With that, Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and opened the front door before turning into a cat again and trotting off down the road.

Mrs Figg stood there watching her leave, pleased that she had done her bit in keeping Harry Potter safe.