Chapter 8 Dudley's Discovery
This was why Dudley wanted to stay at Mrs. Figg's with Harry—because her house was full of furry little ones.
In his past life, Dudley had loved animals dearly, keeping several of his own. In this life, Vernon's allergy to cat fur prevented it, otherwise Dudley would have filled the house with fluffy companions.
"Dudley, I think you'd better put Snowy down. Look, she's getting tired of you," Mrs. Figg said with a smile.
"Mrs. Figg, I've always loved Snowy. I even fed her goat's milk when she was a kitten. If she dislikes me now, that would be truly ungrateful." Dudley rubbed his face against Snowy's belly again as he spoke.
With his size and behavior, Dudley truly embodied the saying, "A fierce tiger within, yet gently smelling roses."
Though Snowy's silver-white furred face was full of disdain, she did not resist. Instead, she even purred softly.
Cats were not like dogs. Dudley was burying his face in her belly, a vulnerable spot. Normally, if their bond were weak, a swipe of claws or a wild scratch would have been the response.
"This is your fault for not visiting us for so long," Mrs. Figg chided gently. "Snowy, Tiki, Mr. Paws, and Fluffy hardly recognize you anymore."
Those four cats—Snowy, Tiki, Mr. Paws, and Fluffy—were all hers.
From their words, it was clear Dudley had known Mrs. Figg for some time. It made sense—he loved cats, and she was the only one in the neighborhood who kept them.
At first, Mrs. Figg had not been fond of Dudley, or the Dursleys at all, until the day Harry was first left in her care.
"Schoolwork is so overwhelming, Mrs. Figg," Dudley sighed.
"Besides regular classes, I have to win medals for the school and take part in exchange activities. It's exhausting—I barely even have time to train."
At last Dudley set Snowy down, but she clung to him, meowing incessantly.
Dudley dug into his pocket, pulling out a handful of dried fish snacks, and began feeding them to Snowy one by one.
"You shouldn't feed her too much," Mrs. Figg said with a chuckle, shaking her head. "She won't eat her meals properly later." She looked admiringly at Dudley's solid, well-built body. "You're the strongest boy I've ever seen."
And in her heart she silently added, "Perhaps only that man was stronger."
By now, the other cats had caught the scent and padded into the room, circling Dudley and rubbing against his legs. Partly for the snacks, partly to mark him with their scent.
Harry stood quietly at the doorway, invisible as always, watching the cheerful conversation. He envied Dudley's way with people—he could talk to anyone.
"Harry," Mrs. Figg suddenly remembered, "you must both be hungry. I'll fix you something to eat."
She was known for her fried sausages, stewed cabbage, and mashed potatoes.
But today Dudley had no appetite for them. Petunia could make those dishes too, though not quite as well. Even the best food grew dull if eaten every day—the menu was simply too thin.
"Mrs. Figg, let me cook instead," Dudley said, tossing the rest of the fish snacks to the cats and standing up. "I'll show you what I can do."
"You can cook, Dudley?" she asked in surprise. To raise a boy like him in the Dursley household was already remarkable; that he could cook was unexpected.
"Of course!" Harry, remembering the last time he had tasted Dudley's food, licked his lips as his mouth watered. "Big Dud's cooking is delicious."
Hearing Harry's words, Mrs. Figg, though doubtful, allowed Dudley into the kitchen.
He chopped tofu into cubes, blanched them, heated oil in a pan, and stir-fried chopped onion, ginger, and garlic. Then he added minced pork, frying until fragrant.
Before long, dishes emerged from his hands: twice-cooked pork, braised pork, mapo tofu, lion's head meatballs, and a simple tomato egg drop soup.
Four dishes and one soup, rich with aroma, were laid on the table.
One bite was enough to captivate both Mrs. Figg and Harry completely.
"So delicious." Harry's mouth glistened with oil as he praised.
Though Aunt Petunia's cooking was decent, her menu was too limited. Dudley's meals far outshone hers.
"Just simple home cooking," Dudley said, polishing off another bowl of rice. "If you like it, I'll cook every day while we're here."
At home, Petunia never allowed him into the kitchen. He could only sneak in when no one was around.
Even the cats, just fed, were drawn to the fragrant dishes, leaping onto the table and sniffing curiously.
But unfortunately, the first dish they chose was the mapo tofu. The spicy peppers and numbing Sichuan peppercorns were not to a cat's taste, so they quickly jumped back down.
"Hey, children, the kitchen is my domain. Your task now is to study hard," Mrs. Figg said.
Harry's face fell at first, until she suddenly winked and added, "But once in a while is fine."
"Yay!" Harry cheered, raising his spoon.
The next few days passed peacefully. Dudley and Harry went to school, returned home, and trained on the lawn as usual.
Until one day.
Because of a school activity, Harry stayed late, and Dudley returned home first. By chance, Mrs. Figg was out.
"Meow!" Snowy rushed toward Dudley the moment he stepped inside, tugging urgently at his trousers, then darting down the hallway and scratching at the far end.
"What is it, Snowy?" Dudley asked, puzzled.
He loved cats, but he could not understand their language.
It was clear Snowy wanted him to follow.
At the end of the hall was a locked wooden door. From inside came the sounds of chaos—objects being overturned.
'A burglar?' Dudley thought at once. If so, they had picked the wrong house. He clenched his fists, ready to deliver a lesson they would never forget.
The enforcer Dudley was about to return to action.
The wooden door was no obstacle. With one push, it swung open.
But instead of a thief, Dudley saw a book.
A book that moved on its own.
It even had teeth and eyes.
At that moment, it was chasing Mr. Paws and Fluffy wildly around the room.
(End of this chapter)