"I don't understand what you're talking about." Mrs. Figg clutched the cat in her arms, staring blankly at the chain on the door as though she had been too frightened to react. "Get out, you hooligan, or I'll scream. The neighbors will come, and they'll have the police lock you in a tiny cell."
The young one-eyed man folded his arms and made no further move to harm her. He merely looked around with interest, as if inspecting the furnishings of the room, such as the curtains with their lace trim already falling off.
"Go ahead and scream. Even if you scream your throat raw—no, that wouldn't be quite appropriate. I should say, if you don't mind the neighbors learning Harry Potter's identity, then by all means shout as loudly as you like."
"I..." The old woman's face instantly turned deathly pale. She said nothing, but the rapid contraction of her pupils revealed her state of mind.
The young man brushed past her and strolled into the living room, where he sat down on an old, filthy sofa. He even picked up Snowy, the cat sleeping beside him, and began stroking its white fur with his large hand.
The cat, startled awake, tried to flee, as though the newcomer carried some terrifying aura. But when he produced a small box of catnip with a flick of his wrist, Snowy immediately defected to the enemy.
Cats were fickle little creatures, much like people.
"You don't need to say anything. I understand. The Fidelius Charm—the secret is stored within Dumbledore's soul." The young man watched the cat roll and wriggle in his arms with delight, smiling. "I know far more than you can imagine. That alone should prove I mean no harm. Otherwise, you simply couldn't bear the consequences of exposing these