Ariadne's Thread ⭒ h. potter

Large Marge

After rubbing the soot out of her eyes, Ariadne was startled to see a frazzled older woman standing in front of her, one hand on her hip and the other holding tightly onto a raised frying pan. She watched Ariadne with narrow eyes, her cold and suspicious expression looking distinctly out of place when paired with her tattered, ankle-length nightgown.

Ariadne jerked her leg as she felt something small and soft at her foot, looking down to find a white cat pawing at her leg, with a tabby following close behind. There must be more nearby, she deduced, spotting four separate feeding trays in the corner. A large scratching post stood next to it, and photos of a vast variety of cats from seemingly different eras covered the walls. Ariadne tried not to shudder. She really did not care for cats.

"Hello," Ariadne said as politely as she possibly could while also coughing up leftover floo residue and attempting to hold back a grimace at the distinct scent in the air. Cats and... cabbage, maybe? "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt like this. Are you Mrs. Dursley?"

"Mrs. Dursley?" the old woman asked incredulously, though she dropped the arm with the frying pan back down to her side. She looked Ariadne up and down, taking her in now that the shock of her arrival had worn off. She must have looked particularly young, or perhaps particularly frightened, because the woman softened as she pieced Ariadne's presence together. "Are you looking for the Potter boy?"

"Yes!" Ariadne exclaimed, relieved that the woman at least knew who she was talking about. She'd been so stupid to have Flooed like that, without fully knowing where to go and in as much as a rush as she'd been in. Narcissa had taught her long ago that the first rule of Flooing was to be patient and precise. And she'd been neither.

But she could scold herself at a later time. She'd arrived in one piece, at a place where the person at least seemed to know Harry, and she'd not only escaped the wrath of Lucius Malfoy but the efforts of a team of Aurors. That deserved a pat on the back, at least, and she was truly so pleased to just be out of the Manor that anywhere else was a nice change of pace.

"Yes," Ariadne confirmed again, and she began moving towards the woman's front door. The cats followed. "I was trying to find Harry Potter. If you could just point me in his direction, I'll be out of your hair in a moment. Again, I'm terribly sorry – I had a bit of trouble at home, so I thought I'd try and reach Harry, but–"

"Hold on a moment," the woman said haltingly, and Ariadne froze where she stood. "Where do you think you're going? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Well, Ariadne didn't really. It had been almost nighttime when Madame Bones first arrived, but she'd no idea how long that visit had even lasted. She shook her head slowly, and the old woman scoffed.

"Of course you don't!" She nodded her head towards a small couch in front of a square television, indicating for Ariadne to sit, but Ariadne remained standing.

"I'm not going to kill you, girl," the woman said, batting her hand in the air in what was supposed to be a reassuring manner. "You look dead on your feet. I'll make us some tea and you can explain to me why you were trying to find Harry Potter. Call me Mrs. Figg, by the way. Mr. Tibbles, Snowy, come." The two cats left Ariadne's feet to follow the old woman into the kitchen where she put the kettle on the stove before moving out of sight. Begrudgingly impressed by the cats' ability to recognize their own names, Ariadne walked over to the couch and sat primly, placing her hands onto her knees.

"My name is Ariadne," she called back in return, deliberately keeping off her last name. She didn't want to give this poor woman any more reason to distrust her, besides breaking into her home and claiming to know Harry Potter.