Chapter 9 Meow Meow Meow Meow
Square-shaped, covered in fur, with four round bright golden-yellow eyes and a row of sharp teeth showing from its gums.
Rather than a book, it looked more like some kind of monster.
Still, Dudley recognized at once that it was a book.
On its body were large embossed golden letters—"The Monster Book of Monsters."
Although he had long known that Harry Potter possessed mysterious magic, and he himself longed for that wondrous world, this was the first time he had witnessed such a sight. Or rather, it was the first magical encounter Dudley had experienced since coming to this world.
If one counted Matou Shinji's magus constitution, then this would be the second time.
While Dudley stared in shock, the monster book seemed to notice him. Abandoning its chase of the cats, it bared its teeth and hurled itself at him.
Snowy's fur bristled in alarm, her body puffing up as she hissed and let out a sharp cry.
She was warning the monster book.
Unfortunately, her threat had no effect. The book flapped straight toward Dudley.
Though Snowy was afraid, she stayed at Dudley's side, claws sliding out from her soft pads, ready to fight to the death.
"Hey, how am I supposed to deal with this? Cast a spell? But I don't know any."
Dudley tried to think of a solution, but out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the cats lying motionless on the ground.
It was the fourth cat—Tiki.
Was Tiki injured, or dead?
Either way, it had to be the monster book's doing.
Dudley had always liked cats. After spending time with these four, he had grown even more attached.
Rage welled up inside him.
"Forget it, I'll use my own way." He rolled up his sleeves.
As the monster book closed in, Dudley stepped forward and threw a punch.
In the blink of an eye, his fist landed squarely on the book.
The heavy thud echoed like a hammer smashing the floor, making the entire room tremble slightly.
And then, silence.
This was the same kind of punch Dudley had once used to instantly defeat the self-proclaimed strongest high school boxer in England.
He slowly withdrew his fist from the book's cover. The monster book lay motionless on the ground.
"Still want to act fierce? Let's see." Dudley grabbed its spine with one hand and shook it.
Now the book had become meek, limp and weak, a pair of ribbon-like tongues hanging from its mouth—if they were tongues at all.
"Did I kill it with one punch?" Dudley wondered.
"I held back at least thirty percent of my strength."
"If this thing is dead, how do I explain it?"
Just then, a cry came from outside.
"Oh, Merlin! What on earth happened here?"
Mrs. Figg, clutching a basket of groceries, rushed in. Seeing the chaotic room as if a burglar had ransacked it, her expression shifted as she turned to Dudley.
"Dudley, what exactly happened?"
Her tone carried more doubt than anger.
Truthfully, Mrs. Figg was already being lenient. Imagine if you had trusted a neighbor enough to leave your house key with them, only to return and find their child inside your locked room, with everything a mess.
At the very least, if it had been Vernon, he would not have been so calm.
"Mrs. Figg, I thought there was a burglar." Dudley shook the monster book in his hand. "This thing killed Tiki."
Mrs. Figg pointed at a cat that was "coincidentally passing by." "Isn't Tiki right there, safe and sound?"
Her pupils had shrunk the moment she saw the Monster Book of Monsters, her heartbeat quickening.
'Damn, Tiki was only pretending to be dead.'
Dudley, flustered, struggled to explain. At that moment, Snowy trotted gracefully to Mrs. Figg's side.
"Me-me-meow-meow-meow-mew," she called, her voice shifting in tones Dudley had never heard before.
To his astonishment, Mrs. Figg nodded from time to time as if she understood.
"I see, Snowy."
Then she turned to Dudley with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, child. I wronged you. Thank you for helping them."
Dudley did not care about the apology. What mattered was—
"Mrs. Figg can understand Snowy?"
"Cat language?"
"Could Mrs. Figg be a witch?"
Dudley's eyes lit up. He drew a deep breath, trying to calm himself, then asked with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, "Mrs. Figg, are you the same as Harry?"
"My parents always call Harry a monster boy. Sometimes he does things no ordinary person can do. I once heard them call it… magic."
His words surprised Mrs. Figg, though she quickly understood. Growing up alongside a natural-born wizard, it was inevitable he had witnessed inexplicable phenomena more than once. Every young wizard experienced magical surges, and Dudley was clever enough to notice.
"You are very perceptive, child," she said after a pause.
"Is magic real?"
"Can you teach me? I… want to learn magic too."
Dudley sounded just like any child who had just discovered the existence of magic—filled with wonder and longing.
"I'm sorry, child. I cannot."
Mrs. Figg shook her head with regret. "But telling you doesn't matter. You'll know sooner or later, since you are that boy's brother."
She drew a deep breath and said gravely, "I am like Harry, and yet not the same."
For the first time, someone explained to Dudley the truths of this magical world. Through her words, fragments of knowledge slowly unfolded before him.
A world that stirred the heart with its allure.
In the world of Harry Potter, people could broadly be divided into three kinds: wizards, Muggles, and Squibs.
Wizards needed no explanation—they were spellcasters, like the famous Harry Potter.
Muggles were those with no connection to magic. The original Dudley Dursley was one of them.
Squibs, however, were born to wizarding families but unable to perform magic. Mrs. Figg was one such Squib, neither wizard nor Muggle.
Yet unlike true Muggles, Squibs possessed unique qualities.
Mrs. Figg's ability to communicate with cats was one of them, an ability some wizards did not even have.
(End of this chapter)