***

Dumbledore sighed as he read over the letter for a second time. It was not the response he had hoped for. Hagrid and Madame Maxime had managed to contact a few giants, but they had not managed to gain much sympathy. Most of the giants did not want Voldemort in power, but they did not care enough to act. The matter of humans was of great unimportance to them, and from the sounds of Hagrid’s letter the giants were about as accepting of Hagrid’s human half as most people were of Hagrid’s giant half.

Dumbledore sighed again. Not a habit to foster, he chided himself as he stood up. No use worrying about problems, best to move forward and do something about them. But there were so many worries even he was somewhat confused what step to take next. Pondering his options Dumbledore paced the floor in front of the fire. The floor there was worn. Many times had Dumbledore paced this spot, and before him many headmasters had paced there also. It was as if the energy of the room was slightly more concrete there, and each headmaster in his own time had been drawn there to pace, back and forth, whenever they were troubled.

Hagrid has been trying his best, Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore himself had set up every anti-dementor protection possible, Sirius had collected Remus, they were getting the old gang together and would be ready for action soon, and Professor SnapeY Well, Dumbledore admitted, Severus was bothering him most. He could not expect to hear from his potions master very often, but it had been a full six weeks since his last communication, and the last one had been on the grim side.

Dumbledore pulled his thoughts back again. The best thing to do now was to come up with a new strategy for Hagrid. He simply could not fail to win over the giants. With this new purpose, Dumbledore stopped pacing and sat back down at his desk, took out a new piece of parchment and a quill and began to write.

Scarcely had he finished when he heard movement outside his office. Alert, he moved silently over to the door, and listened. To his relief there was a knock, and a familiar voice.

“Professor Dumbledore sir,” the voice said, “it’s me, Arabella.” Dumbledore opened the door smiling broadly.

“Ms. Figg, please come in, I was not expecting you until tomorrow at least.” “I know sir, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait. I exploded at Sirius and Remus when I found out they waited a week before coming to get me. Not that they had much choice of course, with the moon and all.” Her voice faded as she looked at him sheepishly with her big brown eyes.

Dumbledore smiled even harder. Arabella had probably given them quite a tongue lashing. She had always been like that, so quick to anger. But she always felt bad afterwards, and it embarrassed her to admit one of her tantrums, so he did not linger on the subject. “How much did the pair decide to tell you?” he asked. It was the wrong question.

Her smile faded into a snarl and the color in her cheeks flushed. “Not bloody much.” She barked at him. “You’d think,” she said, her voice getting louder which each word. “You would THINK, that after all these years showing up at my door, Remus and SIRIUS, an escaped CRIMINAL!”

She had really worked herself up now, her fists were clenched tightly and her teeth were bared “Even WITH your letter I was a little unsure, but I didn’t have much choice really, you know. I mean who else would know about mum!”

At this point she stopped abruptly and looked up at Dumbledore, who had quietly retreated behind his desk, ginning at her.

“Sorry.” She apologized for the second time that night. “I guess it has been rather stressful these last few days, I don’t mean to yell at you.” She looked unsure into Dumbledore’s eyes.

He had the insane desire to hug her. She was so passionate, but she had never quite gotten control over her temper. She had never been as close to him as some other of her friends, but he had, for many reasons, always thought of her as his grandchild. He could never tell her though, she was not an outgoing woman (he could see she was no longer a child) and her confidences were few, and hard earned.

“My dear, I do not mind at all, I assume they told you nothing.”

“Only that Voldemort had returned, and that you needed to see me as soon as possible.” She seemed to have regained control because she said this calmly as if they were taking about the weather. “I saw your letter was dated so long ago, I came as quickly as I couldY I hope I didn’t come too late.”

The worry was written plainly on her face, and on closer inspection Dumbledore noted that there were bags under her eyes, and her robes were quite dirty and torn.

“There is no need to worry, if those two trouble makers had taken the time to explain, you would know that there was no emergency.” He caught a flicker of guilt in her face.

“They might have mentioned the fact.” She practically whispered.

“Hmm” Dumbledore said thoughtfully, quickly looking down. He fussed with the papers on his desk, trying to hide the amused smile. She had not changed these 11 years. “Well,” he said clearing his throat “I assume you have many questions, but it is too late for you to start my inquisition tonight. May I request a few hours of rest before you begin?”

She smiled inwardly; he had always been like that, joking. If Albus Dumbledore was ever serious when it was not absolutely necessary she would eat herself. “Yes of course Professor, sir.” She replied formally to him out of habit.

“Arabella, you must call me Albus,” he said kindly, walking over to a door that she had not even noticed. She probably was not supposed to have noticed it she realized. The most obvious things in the wizarding world are the ones most often missed. He opened the door and motioned her through to a small cozy room with a friendly fireplace with an armchair in front, a wardrobe, a small table with two chairs, and a single bed. Her few hastily packed things had been brought up by the house elves.

“It’s not much, but there is a bathroom through that door, and it is safe.” He said, watching for her reaction.

To his surprise her face lit up with a large smile. She walked over to him and placed her hand delicately on his shoulder.

“Thank you Albus, you know how much this means to me.”

“Goodnight my dear, it is wonderful to have you back,” and he slipped quietly out the door, shutting it behind him.

Well, at least one thing had gone right tonight. Sirius and Remus had made it as far Arabella’s house without mishap. With any luck he would be getting an owl from Fletcher, as well as Sirius and Remus in person. Dumbledore added a quick P.S. on his letter to Hagrid and tied the letter to the owl, which had been perching quietly in the corner. Not even a minute passed from when the owl carrying Hagrid’s letter left, that a new owl flew into the room and took up the place on the perch. Quickly cleaning up his quill and ink Dumbledore yawned. He had not been sleeping very well, but tonight he may finally get some rest. With a final glance around the office, making sure everything was in place he turned to the portrait of a sleeping lord. “Truffle cream,” he said, and the lord opened one eye lazily as the portrait swung open.

“Another late night,” Lord Dennis asked as Dumbledore began to shut the portrait.

“Yes,” he answered, “but it seems as if things are finally looking up”

Lord Dennis did not answer; he had already fallen back asleep.

***

Miles away Harry Potter stirred uneasily in his bed. He had been tossing and turning ever since he had lain down to sleep. It’s not as if he wasn’t tired. After a week full of Dudley’s new exercise program Harry was exhausted. The diet Dudley had been put on last summer had not quite done the trick, and the school nurse had written a threatening note along with a new exercise program that, unfortunately for Harry, involved Dudley waking up very early in the morning for a ‘light jog’.

To Harry’s surprise Aunt Petunia had not insisted that Harry jog as well, but Harry soon realized that, like it or not, if Dudley was suffering he would be suffering too. Each morning at five a small earthquake woke Harry as Petunia wrestled Dudley out of bed. The screaming he might learn to ignore, but accompanied with the shaking of the entire house as Dudley threw his temper tantrum, Harry was never able to sleep past five.

At first Harry had enjoyed Dudley’s early morning excursions. The sight of his bony Aunt and his marshmallow cousin in matching gray jogging suits was too much for Harry to handle. But at some point the novelty had worn off. Harry, forced to stay up late finishing his homework for school and then waking up to a mini earthquake everyday, was starting to feel a bit sleep deprived. So tonight he had decided to skip the homework and get a full night’s sleep.

Unfortunately for Harry, he tossed in his bed all night. He felt chills running up and down his spine as if someone was watching him. Finally unable to lie still he got up out of his bed and walked to the window overlooking Privet drive. It was quiet, nothing was moving. Harry turned away from the window, but stopped as something caught his eye. For a split second he had thought he saw someone in the shadows.

Harry looked piercingly into the shadow, but he saw nothing. He must have imagined it. Shivering again he sat back down on his bed and grabbed his book “Flying with the Cannons” to take his mind off of the dark image. After five minutes of turning the pages blankly Harry decided he might as well use his time wisely. He got out his History of Magic book, lay back on his bed, and started reading about the Goblin rebellions of 1823. He fell asleep within 2 minutes.

***

The next morning Harry was awakened by a thundering so loud he jumped out of bed. Just Dudley, he thought to himself, no need to get so jumpy. But he had good reason to be on edge, Voldemort was back. Harry had been witness to Voldemort’s rebirth only a few months ago, and he waited impatiently for news between owls from his friends. It seems as if everything was fine so far. Not a single bad thing had happened between the end of the school year and now, but Harry knew something was coming. It was only a matter of time.

Oh well, it was like Hagrid said; you just have to wait for what will come.

Now fully awake Harry decided he might as well get up. Going over to his dresser he pulled out one of Dudley’s old sweatshirts, rolled up the sleeves, and headed downstairs. Harry could still hear Aunt Petunia in Dudley’s room; it seemed as if Dudley was being particularly stubborn this morning.

Smiling to himself in the kitchen as he buttered a piece of toast, Harry watched the picture on the wall swing ominously. A few days after Harry had arrived home the Dursleys received an owl from Sirius. In no uncertain terms he had demanded that they treat his Godson nicely, and if he had reason to believe they were not well, Sirius had not mentioned anything specific, but the hints were bad enough.

The Dursleys had agreed to let Harry off of Dudley’s diet, provided that Harry would not eat in front of Dudley. This had been good for both Harry and his Aunt and Uncle, as both parties felt the less time spent together the better.

It was starting to get rather lonely now though. He didn’t mind not seeing the Dursleys- he did mind not seeing anyone at all. The days blended together with every other day, and the summer inched its way forward. At least once every week he would send an owl to Ron asking if he could come and stay with him the rest of the summer. And at least once a week Ron would send back an owl that his father promised Harry could come soon.

Finally Harry heard Aunt Petunia and Dudley start out the front door. Dudley was already breathing hard from the fight he had put up. To Harry’s dismay the door to the kitchen opened.

“Morning” Uncle Vernon grunted, or something like it anyway.

“Good morning Uncle Vernon,” Harry replied as he started picking up what was left of his breakfast hastily. He could see the look in Vernon’s eyes, and he knew it would be dangerous to stick around. ‘Well, see you then.’ Harry added as he grabbed his food and made quickly for the door.

“wait,” Vernon grunted again. Harry stopped, collected himself, and turned around.

Vernon was looking at Harry as if he was something a very bad dog had left behind.

“You will have to pack today” Uncle Vernon stated.

“Pack!” Harry exclaimed “Why should I pack, where are we going!” This was NOT going to be good, there was no place he could think of going with the Dursleys that would be any fun.

“WE are not going anywhere,” Vernon growled distastefully. “I am taking Petunia and Dudley on my business trip to the south of France. YOU are staying with Mrs. Figg”. Vernon watched with a malicious glint in his eye, knowing very well what Harry’s reaction would be.

“What!” Harry exclaimed in spite of himself. “For how long!”

Vernon was outright smirking now, seeing the astonishment on Harry’s face. “At least a month,” He relished. “Now, get up to your room before Dudley comes back or you’ll be eating carrots for dinner, boy.”

Harry fled the kitchen and slammed the door to his room just as Dudley came wheezing in the front door. He couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t that he would miss the Dursleys, but he definitely could not imagine lasting a whole month with Mrs. Figg, the old lady down the street with all the cats. Mrs. Figg was nice to Harry, but her house smelled funny, and she made Harry look through albums full of pictures of her cats. A whole month Harry thought, his head spinning. He had to write Ron, Mr. Weasley HAD to let Harry stay with them, he couldn’t take an entire month.

Harry quickly scrawled out a letter to Ron explaining the situation, begging for Ron to let him come. He went over to Hedwig’s cage, where she was sleeping.

“Come on girl” he cooed, stroking her gently. AWake up, this is important.@ Hedwig opened her eyes and ruffled her feathers. She held out her leg to Harry and let him attach the letter. “Bring back an answer as soon as you can, if I’m not here I’ll be at Mrs. Figg’s house, but I don’t know how you will be able to get me a letter there.” Harry said, the panic he felt showing in his voice.

Hedwig gave him a reassuring nip on his finger and flew silently out the window.

Resigned, Harry began to pack up the few items he owned. It didn’t take long before he lay on his bed in his empty room, dreaming longingly of the days he had spent with the Weasleys at the Burrow. If only they would let him come stay with them. But Voldemort was back now. Harry was pondering how he could be safer with Mrs. Figg than with the Weasleys when he fell into a restless sleep.

***

Mrs. Figg sat watching her television. She had never quite understood what it was muggles found so interesting about these moving pictures, but at the present she had little else to do. Just as she was starting to get into the show (a very funny one, she had to admit, there was a peculiar man doing silly walks) she felt a tug at her leg.

“Yes Trouble,” she said to the black and white blotched cat looking up at her.

“Merow” the cat answered, and Mrs. Figg raised her eye brows unbelievingly.

“An owl, here” she asked suspiciously. The cat glared back and stalked out of the room, its tail flicking.

Mrs. Figg followed Trouble into her small dining room where there was, indeed, a harassed looking owl with a letter tied to it’s leg, and five cats sitting around it. “Enough all of you” She reprimanded them, and they scattered hastily. Nevertheless, the second the letter had come off its leg the owl took off into the night.

Mrs. Figg trembled as she opened the letter; she had not gotten an owl for 11 years. Upon reading it she collapsed into one of the chairs and sobbed into the table. A pure white cat flew gingerly onto the table and nipped Mrs. Figg.

“Oh!” Mrs. Figg looked up, and to the cats seeming surprise she had a smile from ear to ear. “Scorn, it’s wonderful” She stroked the cat reassuringly. “My daughter is finally coming home!”

***

Harry sat up with a start.

He had not been asleep for long, but he had been troubled with images of red eyes. The nightmare was fading fast, however he could remember a lake, and the moon, and then there was a loud scream. It seemed very important that he get closer to the lake, but his feet had been stuck to the ground. Somehow he had to get to the lake.

Shaking himself Harry got up. It wasn=t like him to be so lazy, but today he just slumped around his room. He moved from the bed, to the floor, and back to the bed again, his mind moving desperately through ways to escape from Mrs. Figg.

***

The next morning Harry stood in front of the Mrs. Figg’s door. The Dursleys were already gone. They had only waited long enough for Harry to get out of the house before they locked the door, hopped in the car and left. No one looked back or waved goodbye, and Harry was left to haul the trunk by himself. It heavy, but even worse was the sense of dread filling him. This promised to be one of the worst months ever.

The door to Mrs. Figg’s house opened, and there standing in the doorway was Mrs. Figg.

She looked different though, younger, if that was possible. There was a sparkle in her eye Harry hadn’t seen before. Mrs. Figg smiled at Harry and helped him into the house, which smelled like bleach, not at all like cat.

Harry looked around the room. The windows were opened, and it every surface was sparkling. Harry looked around the room in shock, until his roaming eye focused on one object. Sitting on one of the coffee tables was a wand.

Mrs. Figg saw what Harry was looking at. “We have a lot to talk about dear.” She said. “But first, there is someone in the kitchen I would like you to meet. As well as some lovely chocolate cake.”

Harry let himself be shuffled into the kitchen. There was a chocolate cake already cut and sitting on the table. As well as a steaming mug of tea, and a person. She was short, only about 5’4” and had short dark brown hair with matching eyes. Her hair and eyes were both so dark they were almost black.

“Harry, this is my daughter, Arabella!” Mrs. Figg was beaming proudly at her daughter, who was also beaming at her mother.

“Hello Harry.” Arabella moved over to him, trying to wipe her hands covered in chocolate on her robes and giving him a hearty handshake. “It’s very nice to meet you at last, I’ve heard some wonderful things about you from Sirius and Remus.”

“Are they okay! Did you see them?” Harry exclaimed excitedly not even noticing the sticky chocolate on his hand.

“Relax Harry!” Arabella pleaded laughing. “They are fine, everything is fine. I talked with them before coming here, if all goes well they should be able to visit very soon!”

“Now,” Mrs. Figg interrupted Harry before he could start to speak again. “No more talking until you try this cake! It will be better than usual as Arabella made it, not me.”

Harry smiled and sat down at the table along with Arabella and Mrs. Figg and began to eat the cake. She was right, it was very good.

***

The next few days were wonderful. Harry was waited on hand and foot by Mrs. Figg, and Arabella turned out to be a brilliant cook.

Harry slowly got most of his questions answered, but some things Arabella and Mrs. Figg seemed rather vague about. He found out that Mrs. Figg had moved to Privet drive a few years before he was born, although she wouldn’t say why, and that she had spent the last 11 years cut off from the entire wizarding world, including her daughter.

Mrs. Figg obviously had missed her daughter, she was constantly bragging about her and telling Harry stories from Arabella’s childhood. “Her teachers complained that she was too quiet until the day she lost her temper and turned her transfiguration teacher into a footstool.” or “I remember I got an owl after the first day of school, she thought she would have no friends, poor dear.”

Arabella tried desperately to stop her mother, but ended up laughing with them. It was evident to Harry that Arabella had missed her mom too, but she didn’t show it in such an obvious way.

The strangest thing about Mrs. Figg was her cats. The first day Harry had seen no evidence that Mrs. Figg still had any cats, but since that day he had noticed cats coming and going at random times. Sometimes they had notes for Mrs. Figg, sometimes not. Mrs. Figg would exchange a few words with the cats, Harry supposed she must be able to understand them, and then the cats would leave again. When Harry asked Mrs. Figg what the cats where doing she changed the subject abruptly and Harry decided not to ask again.

Everyday Harry waited for news about his friends and Sirius and Remus. Arabella told him that owls could not be sent here because they would attract too much attention, however she seemed to be getting information another way. Finally one day she gave Harry the message he had been waiting for.

“Harry” Arabella came over to him smiling “I have good news, Sirius and Remus will be coming tomorrow.”

“Really!” Harry jumped up from the couch. “I’m so glad! I miss them so much, thank you Arabella!”

Harry thought he saw a fleeting emotion pass over Arabella’s face, but she controlled her self and smiled back at him. Maybe not so controlled. Looking into Arabella’s eyes Harry saw pain, well disguised and buried deep down, but still there nevertheless. Arabella looked at Harry curiously and looked away, as if she knew what he had seen.

“What do you think they would like for lunch tomorrow?” She asked “I want to have a big meal prepared, Sirius and Remus looked very thin when I saw them last.” She turned back to Harry, perhaps he had imagined that look. “I think that Remus was cooking for himself and Sirius, which means that they have probably been eating toast and sandwiches the whole summer.”

Harry laughed. “I=m sure anything you make would be an improvement”

Arabella looked at him thoughtfully. “I remember your mom gave me a recipe for chili. A recipe from her mother I believe. Would you like that Harry?”

“From my mum? You knew my mum?” Harry asked excitedly. “How come you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t know her very well Harry. We went to school together, but I didn’t get to know her until after we graduated.”

Harry was anxious to ask questions, but he could tell from Arabella’s tone of voice that it was not something she was ready to talk about.

“Chili would be great. Maybe you can make some of that cake for desert too.”

“I’ll make you a cake tonight.” Arabella shaking her head at him, amused. “I have a surprise for dessert tomorrow.”

Harry grinned and watched as Arabella went into the kitchen. Later, while Harry was trying to teach Mrs. Figg to play chess Arabella brought sandwiches and cake out on trays.

“Sorry guys” she said apologetically “It’s not much, but it’s a war zone in there, and I need to starve you enough so that you will be able to eat a lot tomorrow. Did I mention I’m cooking for twelve?”

With that she turned on her heel and went back into the kitchen. Harry caught a glimpse of the kitchen as she opened the door, she hadn’t been kidding when she had called it a war zone. The walls and floor were covered with food, and the table and counter was overflowing with dishes. Twelve? He thought confused. Were there more people coming? Sirius, Remus, Mrs. Figg, Arabella and himself made five.

“It’s okay dear, whenever she throws a big party she adds an extra person on to her group and then cooks twice of what she needs.@ Mrs. Figg said as if she had read Harry=s mind. “Checkmate” She relished.

Harry’s mind was jerked back to the game, there was no way…

“No Mrs. Figg,” Harry said, barely able to choke back the laughs. “You can’t move the knight diagonal, and you are trying to capture the KING, not the Queen.”

“Sexist game.” Mrs. Figg mumbled. “Oh well, I’m completely hopeless I expect. How about we eat some cake and skip the sandwiches.”

Harry couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore.