This, you see, was exactly why Dudley loved spending time with Harry at Mrs. Figg's house—because she had so many of those furry little creatures. In his previous life, Dudley had been completely smitten with cats and owned several of them himself. Unfortunately, in this life, Uncle Vernon was allergic to cat hair, or Dudley would have absolutely filled the house with the fluffy darlings.
"Dudley, I think you'd better put Cherie down. Look, she's had enough of you," Mrs. Figg said with a gentle laugh.
"Mrs. Figg, I've always loved Cherie! I was the one who fed her goat's milk when she was a kitten. It would be utterly heartless of her to be sick of me," Dudley said, nuzzling the cat's belly again.
With Dudley's immense size and his soft actions, he looked a bit like 'a brave tiger sniffing a rose.' But in truth, Cherie, the silver tabby in his arms, seemed to be enjoying it. Despite her expression of utter disgust, she wasn't putting up a fight at all, and a low purr rumbled in her throat.
Cats aren't like dogs, you know. When a person nuzzles their belly—a vulnerable spot—they usually see it as an attack. If Dudley and Cherie's relationship had been even remotely strained, he would have been met with a swipe or a full-blown scratching frenzy.
"Well, it's your own fault for not coming to see us for so long," Mrs. Figg said, a hint of scolding in her voice. "Cherie, Tibbles, Mr. Paws, and Snowy are all starting to forget you."
There were four cats in all: Tibbles, Cherie, Mr. Paws, and Snowy, all belonging to Mrs. Figg. Judging by the conversation, Dudley had known Mrs. Figg for a while, which made sense. Dudley loved cats, and Mrs. Figg was the only person for streets around who had them. Though she hadn't liked the Dursleys much at first, her opinion changed the first time Harry was left in her care.
"School has been so demanding, Mrs. Figg," Dudley said. "I have to keep up with my studies, win medals for the school, and go to all these exchange events…it's exhausting! I barely have time to train anymore."
Dudley finally put Cherie down, but the cat didn't want to leave, meowing at him nonstop. He took a handful of dried fish from his pocket and fed them to her one by one.
"You really shouldn't give her too much," Mrs. Figg said with a smile, shaking her head. "She'll never eat her proper food." Then, she looked at Dudley's muscular frame and added in admiration, "You're the strongest boy I've ever seen." She added a silent thought to herself: 'Perhaps only that one person is stronger than you.'
The other cats, attracted by the smell of the treats, poked their heads out of the other rooms. They swarmed Dudley's feet, rubbing against him with gusto. Partly, they were after the dried fish he held. But mostly, they were trying to leave their scent on him.
Harry, meanwhile, stood by the door, watching the two of them chat. He felt a little invisible, but he also secretly envied Dudley's ability to get along with anyone.
"Oh, Harry, dear," Mrs. Figg said, finally noticing him. "I imagine you two are hungry. I'll go rustle up something to eat for you."
Mrs. Figg was a good cook, and her fried sausages, stewed cabbage, and mashed potatoes were superb. But Dudley didn't want any of that today. Petunia could make those things too, just not quite as well as Mrs. Figg. Even the best food gets boring if you eat it every day, especially with a cookbook as thin as theirs.
"Mrs. Figg, let me do it," Dudley said, tossing the rest of the dried fish to the cats and dusting his hands. "I'll show you what I can do today."
Mrs. Figg's eyes widened. "Little Dudley can cook?" She had thought it was a miracle the Dursleys had raised him to be so well-behaved, but a chef?
"He's a great cook!" Harry said, licking his lips as he remembered the last time he'd tried Dudley's food. "D-Man makes the best stuff."
Hearing Harry's endorsement, Mrs. Figg, still a bit skeptical, allowed Dudley into the kitchen. He chopped tofu into small cubes and blanched it. In a hot wok with cold oil, he sautéed minced ginger, scallions, and garlic until fragrant, then added ground pork and stirred until it changed color. The rich aroma filled the room as he stirred...
Dudley, the master chef, whipped up a feast: Twice-Cooked Pork, Red-Braised Pork Belly, Mapo Tofu, and Lion's Head Meatballs, along with a simple tomato and egg-drop soup. The four dishes and one soup, when placed on the table, sent an incredible aroma wafting through the house. One taste was all it took to completely win over Mrs. Figg and Harry.
"This is amazing," Harry said, his mouth full of food. Aunt Petunia's cooking was good, but her repertoire was so small. The difference between her cooking and Dudley's was immense.
"It's just simple home cooking," Dudley said, polishing off a bowl of rice. "If you like it, I can cook for you every day while we're here." At his own house, Petunia would never allow Dudley in the kitchen; if he wanted to cook, he could only do it when no one was home.
The cats, who had just finished their own meal, were attracted by the tantalizing smells. They jumped onto the table, sniffing the food on the plates. Unfortunately, their first choice was the Mapo Tofu. The spicy, numbing scent of chili and Sichuan peppercorns was not to a cat's liking, and they quickly hopped back down.
"Now, now, children," Mrs. Figg said to them, "the kitchen is my domain. Your job is to study..." Harry's face fell, but then Mrs. Figg winked. "...but just for today, it's alright to take a break."
Harry cheered, happily raising his spoon.
The next few days were calm. Dudley and Harry went to school as usual, came home, and trained on the lawn.
Until one day...
Harry had to stay late for a school activity, so Dudley got home first. He found Mrs. Figg had gone out and hadn't returned yet.
"Meow!" As soon as he was inside, before he even had time to change, Cherie raced over from the other side of the room, meowing at him anxiously.
"What's wrong, Cherie?" Dudley asked, confused. He loved cats, but he certainly couldn't understand them.
"Meow!" Seeing that Dudley didn't get it, Cherie bit down on his trouser leg and yanked hard. Then she ran to the other side of the hallway, even extending a paw to scratch at a closed door.
Dudley finally understood. She wanted him to follow her. He had to admit, Mrs. Figg's cats were a lot more clever than most. He even wondered if they thought like people. The hallway led to a locked wooden door. But from behind the door, Dudley could hear rustling and the distinct sound of things being turned over.
Could it be a thief?
That was Dudley's first thought. He balled his hands into fists. Stealing from his house? He'd have to give them a lesson they'd never forget. Dudley, the enforcer, was back in business. A simple wooden door was no match for him. With a gentle push, it swung open.
But the moment the door opened, Dudley didn't see a thief. Instead, he saw a book. To be precise, a book that was moving on its own. It even had teeth and eyes. And it was chasing Mr. Paws and Snowy all over the room.