The Not-Vanishing Leg
Mrs. Figg was enjoying a nice quiet cup of tea when the proximity alarm started buzzing. She glared at the fluorescent yellow bell - it was supposed to alert her whenever somebody with hostile intent approached the area, but since Dudley had begun to hit puberty it was picking up an increasing number of false alerts. She sighed, looking longingly at her chocolate biscuits. It was barely 6pm and the summer breeze drifted through her window, making it hard to imagine a less dangerous atmosphere. Still, she pulled herself out of her chair - injury in her hip from the war complaining as always.
"What do you think, Nuzzles?" she asked the nearest cat. It flicked its tail once at her before closing its eyes and returning to its dose. Well - that was practically hysterical for Nuzzles, so it probably was worth checking out.
She stiffly walked out into the back garden, eyes squinting through her thick glasses. Mrs. Figg was fairly happy with her lot in life, but if she could have just one spell it would be nice to not have to rely on these bloody glasses the whole time. Distracted, she didn't notice the clocked figure until it was right behind her.
"Hey!" she shouted, turning to see it creeping up on her. She was about to remind the hapless lurker that this area was protected by one Albus Dumbledore when she noticed Mr. Dursley climbing out of his car next door. She improvised.
"Get off my bloody grass" she continued, with hardly a pause, "kids these days! No respect for your betters."
Luckily, this was one of the less determined attempts - probably a newly seventeen slytherin looking for something to boast to his mates about. He turned tail and ran, but not before casting a nasty (but luckily invisible) slicing curse at her, hitting her below her knee.
Trying to stay standing on increasingly unsteady legs, she nodded towards her neighbour, who nodded back, evidently impressed at her attitude, before heading inside to his family.
As soon as the door shut behind him Mrs. Figg pulled a portkey out from its covering handkerchief, and disappeared with a pop.
From an upstairs window next door a young boy saw her disappear leaving behind only the severed stump of her ankle and foot clad in sensible brown shoes. However, by ten-and-three-quaters he had already learned not to mention these things to his family. He accepted the "broken leg" explanation the next week when he heard it, even though he had seen a big grey cat pull the leg inside about twenty minutes after her disappearance. You didn't get much more broken than that, he told himself, and tried not to think about it again.
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Neville held the envelope in shaking hands, too afraid to look at his grandmother.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she demanded "open the bloody thing!"
He attempted to, stubby fingers scraping ineffectually at the seal. Eventually, an exasperated Augusta waved her wand and the letter flew open and into her hands. She read through once slowly, before looking up at the terrified boy with the stinging fingers, then reading it again.
"Well," she said, folding the letter and putting it into her pocket. Neville's eyes began to fill with tears. "I suppose we will have to stop buy Diagon Alley on the way home from St Mungo's next time we are in town," she continued, after a too-long pause. However this had the opposite effect than she had hoped, causing the young boy to burst into tears. Frantically she cast around for something else that might stop the messy torrent. "We can pick up your father's wand while we are there - I'm sure he'd be very proud to have you use it."
Neville flung himself at her and hugged her tightly around her knees (she was tall, he was short), his tears deteriorating into full-blown sobs. Mrs. Longbottom stared confusedly down at him before attempting a tap on the shoulder and ineffectual "there, there". It was unsuccessful.
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The arrival of four owls did not make the Weasley family breakfast much messier, noisier or more chaotic. However, the return of Merlin himself would probably have made the event less messy, noisy and chaotic so this isn't, perhaps, remarkable.
Fred and George both dived for the heaviest envelope as soon as the owls entered the open window, one crying out with pain when his successful grasp resulted in singed fingers. Percy pulled it from his reddened hand smugly, before reading the post script to them
"I took the precaution of cursing the envelope so the first person to touch it would be discourage. I trust this precaution is appreciated."
This was not met with the sigh of defeat and resignation that Percy was expecting. Instead, the twins appeared to find this the funniest thing that had ever occurred to them, before resuming their onslaught to steal his prefect's badge.
Ron's letter fell into the gravy and was rendered unreadable, but as nobody noticed this but Ron it did not dampen the mood of the meal.