Chapter Text
On a chill November morning, mere days past the horror and joy of You Know Who’s downfall on the night of the 31st of October, 1981, two people sat in a muggle tea room, their table well-warded against magical eavesdroppers and prying eyes. The server, of course, wasn’t affected, ensuring that she was able to stop by and freshen their pot of tea as necessary.
“I don’t quite understand what you’re asking of me, Headmaster,” Arabella Figg said quietly, looking down, where her hands betrayed her nervousness as they fidgeted restlessly in her lap. “Could you explain, again?”
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of the internationally acclaimed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot of the British Isles, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, fought the urge to sigh. He detested wasting time. There were so many things to take care of that were clamoring for his attention! Why couldn’t the old squib have more consideration for him? “Really, Arabella. It’s quite simple.”
“But why would you want, well, someone like me, to watch over the Boy Who Lived? I can’t protect him! What if, if, You Know Who comes back? Or one of his Death Eaters? And they come attack the boy?” Arabella’s face twisted in anguish, and she wailed, “There’s nothing I could do!”
Albus called on all his reserves of patience. He needed her for this duty. Only a loyal squib would do. There was too much chance a wizard or witch would interfere with his plans. Unless… Hmmm… Argus, perhaps? Albus considered the idea for a moment. No, Argus wouldn’t do at all. He had reasons to keep Argus Filch at Hogwarts. Having the ill-tempered squib around taught the students empathy and tolerance. No, it simply must be Arabella watching over young Harry.
He marshaled his patience, forced a genial, grandfatherly smile, and, eyes twinkling, Albus explained again. “I merely need someone to keep an eye on the boy. Be my eyes and ears around the muggles. That’s all.”
Arabella still looked troubled. “But the danger—”
“Now, now. You can’t possibly think I’d leave you or the boy in danger, can you?” Albus chided gently, smirking inwardly as the squib abruptly fell all over herself to apologize for doubting him. He ignored her, sipping his tea regally until he felt she had been properly chastised. “Of course I forgive your doubting me, Arabella. I’ll know, of course, the moment any danger threatens Privet Drive. You simply need to send me reports on the lad’s progress. Take an occasional trip to Diagon Alley and send me an owl. You’ll have a small stipend. More than enough to cover a trip or two by Knight Bus.”
Arabella’s face squeezed into dismay at his mention of the Knight Bus, but, thankfully, she raised no more objections.
“Now,” Albus smoothed his beard, appearing to be deep in thought. “I do believe you like kneazles. I can ensure you have the correct licenses and paperwork from the ministry for a small business raising and selling the creatures in a muggle area.”
At that news, Arabella’s face lit up. “Oh, thank you, that would be perfect!”
Excellent. “I’ve already arranged for a dwelling to be purchased in your name, not far from young Harry’s home. You can move in today, if you like.” Albus paused, then beamed when she agreed as he had expected. “Wonderful. I’ll send you a couple of Hogwarts’ house elves to help you pack, and to transport your things to your new house.”
“Oh, thank you, Headmaster,” Arabella said softly, as she gathered her things to leave. “I’d better get going. Oh, there’s so much to do!”
“Quite. And Arabella,” Albus laid his hand on the squib’s arm for a moment as she went past. She stopped, looking at him with wide, anxious eyes. “Remember. You needn’t interfere with the way the boy’s family raises him. They’re his family. They love him.”
Arabella Figg sighed happily two days later as she sat on her comfortable old couch in her brand new home. It had taken a quite a bit of work, but at last everything was as it should be. It was a pity the Headmaster hadn’t been able to spare a house elf to assist with the unpacking as well as the packing. Still, she shouldn't complain. The Headmaster had done so much for her! She had a comfortably furnished house, and there were several rooms set up for the kneazles. They even had an exercise area, complete with climbing trees and cozy nooks, and an entire room set aside for mothers and their kittens. Everything was suitably private and warded against muggles, and she had all the paperwork the Ministry of Magic required for her new business. She even had magical ever clean litter boxes that were charmed to banish waste and remain always fresh. She knew those cost a pretty knut.
In the morning she would begin her new habit of walking the neighborhood. She had a smart new exercise suit she’d purchased especially for the endeavour. It was a good excuse to get out and meet people, and she wanted to make a good impression. Plus, it would be a good way to observe the Dursleys and young Harry. She was almost giddy with excitement at the thought. Imagine! Her! Arabella Figg, meeting the Boy Who Lived!
Mr. Tibbles jumped onto her lap, purring loudly as he settled in for attention. A half-kneazle, Tib was larger than a usual house cat, and quite intelligent. His coloring — a deep, reddish brown, with amber eyes — was striking, too. Just right for a founding stud of her new cattery.
Perhaps she’d put a harness on Tib and take him with her as she walked the neighborhood. Such a sight was sure to draw in young Harry and his aunt.
Aranella was right. She met so many of her new neighbours, all coincidentally out in their front gardens or walking themselves. The neighbourhood was filled with plenty of nosy, gossipy types. Normally she didn’t approve, but needs must. And, of course, she had a mission from the Headmaster.
Petunia was out, pushing her nephew in a stroller, and naturally she stopped and knelt next to the boy. “Look at the kitty, Diddums, do you see? Walking just like a doggy on a lead, yes it is!”
Tib, like the handsome gentleman he was, posed for the adoration of the masses.
The so-called Diddums — really Harry Potter, of course — gnawed on a teething ring. Poor boy, Arabella thought. Teething is so difficult on muggles… Maybe she could sneak him a pain potion? Or she could get him a magical teething ring to soothe his gums? She could make the purchases during a trip to Diagon, when she made her report to the Headmaster. Arabella smiled at the pair. “Hello, I’m your new neighbour. Would you like to come round for tea? I’d love to know more about the area.”
Petunia’s eyes lit up as she jumped at the chance to get to know the newcomer in the neighbourhood.
Later that evening Arabella sat at her kitchen table enjoying a lone glass of wine and a plate of nibbles. Of the kneazles, only Mr Tibbles and Miss Snow, a dainty half-kneazle with long, flowing, white hair, deigned to join her. “It’s odd, don’t you think, that Petunia disguised Harry Potter as her son, Dudley, rather than her nephew?”
Tib flicked the tip of his tail. Snowy crouched down into a loaf with her blue eyes half-closed.
“Yes,” Arabella said reluctantly. “I suppose you’re right. It makes sense if it throws off any Death Eaters lurking nearby.” She sipped her wine. A lovely red… “They would never suspect the Defeater of the Dark Lord to be disguised as the son of a muggle, would they?”
One of the full kneazles, the elegant Madam Sapphire, leapt onto the table, one of her half-grown kittens, Mr Paws, in tow. Paws was steel grey, like his mother, but he had an immaculate white bib and socks. Sapphire rubbed her head against Tib’s cheek. Snowy sat up and began grooming her paw, looking rather disgruntled at the kneazle’s arrival.
“The poor boy looked nothing like the way I thought the son of James and Lily Potter would look. Still, all babies look like lumps at that age, don’t they?” Arabella smiled at Paws. “He certainly didn’t have the Potter hair, did he? At least it was brown. But his eyes were brown, too. I thought the Potters usually had blue… Maybe he looks more like one of his grandparents. Genetics—” Arabella gave a superior sort of smile, for she knew about matters that wizarding-kind, especially those horrible Death eaters, couldn’t be arsed to pay attention to “—can certainly be tricky about heritable traits.”
Arabella watched Sapphire jump off the table followed by Tib. The two sauntered off. In search of some private time, no doubt, although she hadn't thought Sapphire was, erm, ready, at the moment. Still, they were a handsome pair, and had been the parents of a litter of gorgeous kittens before. Snowy turned up her nose at a hopeful look from Paws and sauntered off in the other direction. Paws, dejected, climbed into Arabella’s lap. She dutifully rubbed the rejected kit’s ears.
“Obviously, Paws, the Headmaster knew the Dursleys were calling Harry their son. He told me, didn’t he? Told me not to make a fuss about how the boy’s family raised him.” She took another sip of wine and listened to Paws purring. “It’s all right, though. I’m not planning to interfere.”
Arabella smiled. “I’m going to be his babysitter, Paws. I’ll make sure he knows all about his real parents, and about magic. He’ll know what a hero he is to the wizarding world.”
“That’s not interfering. That’s helping. The boy needs to know his heritage, after all.”