Chapter Five
Harry's POV
I can't stop thinking about it. Even though I am dead tired after being up with Sev these two last nights, I can't sleep. And it is all because what he said to me. Arabella Figg – Mrs. Figg. Donal, his son whom was lost as a baby. Giving up hope, disappearing off the face of the earth. And hadn't Mrs Figg once mentioned that she had an adopted son?
As I feel the sun rise, I give up on my much-needed sleep. Knowing that Sev is a light sleeper, I can't stay in my room, so I silently sneak out of it, inching past Sev's door. He needs his sleep even if I can't get mine.
When I get to the staircase, I whisper 'the living room' and do what I learnt how to do after the first days here if I didn't want to be heard by everyone within a three miles circumference due to the very loud creaks – slide down the banisters. This way, I get to the bottom floor relatively silently and sneak away into Sev's office. I know he has an owl here, in case he has to send letters (Hedwig I left at Hogwarts when I thought I was going to the Dursleys) and I had decided to send Mrs Figg a letter. If she is the Figg Sev talked about, she will know what to do with the owl. If not, well, nothing's lost here.
I sit down by Sev's desk and look around for parchment and a quill. As the neat freak he is with his work, he has hidden it away somewhere. After some snooping around, I manage to find what I need put away on a shelf behind a silver green drape on the wall. Sigh. One would think he would've stored it on the desk, close to use, but no. He puts it in on a shelf behind a drape.
Still a little annoyed, I sit down and start to brush off my best letter writing skills.
"Mrs Arabella Figg!
It has come to my attention that you held an important part in an event many years ago. As this event concerns a dear friend of mine, I write to ask of you a meeting to discuss this event. I would greatly appreciate if you could take some of your precious time to send a response to me by owl at your earliest convenience.
Most reverent, Harry Potter."
I stare at the letter. Not the best ever written, but it would have to do. Nervously, I stare at the huge eagle owl sitting at its perch, watching me unnervingly.
"Can you take this to Mrs Figg at Privet Drive in Surrey?" I ask, not sure what to expect from the unusually big bird.
But it seems to be non-violent, because it just chirps and hold out its leg for me. I exhale, relieved, and attach the letter. Then I silently watch as the owl flies away, only to be attacked by a very noisy little Honey.
"Calm down!" I whisper furiously at her. "Sev's asleep you know!"
"Not anymore."
I whirl around, finding myself eye to eye with a bleary-eyed, very annoyed Severus Snape.
"Sev!" I exclaim. "You're awake!"
"How clever of you to notice the obvious" his voice is still sarcastic, but his face softened remarkably at the name 'Sev'. "Now, may I ask why you're still up?"
I hang my head.
"I can't sleep," I admit. "So much has happened today. I decided to just write Ron to get my mind cleared up."
Sev smiles at me and put his arm around my free shoulder.
"Then let's try now" he says. "Because I'm sure you are tired. I know I am. If you still can't sleep, you should know how to make a sleeping potion by now."
I nod and let my newly acquired dad lead me up the stairs to my room. Because I know I will sleep now when I've done what I can to find Donal.
*****
The owl arrives three days later when I am busy picking herbs for my potions in the forest. It is a small tawny owl and so, the bright red parchment it carries stands out well. Landing on my shoulder, it nips my ear as it waits for me to take my letter.
Obeying, I put down my basket and unattach it, intending to seat myself on a nearby sunny stone, but the crystal Sev gave me immediately starts to tell me to look out for vipers. Apparently, he has forgotten to tell it I'm a parselmouth. So, mostly to get it to stop talking, I hiss to any potential snake to keep away. Then I open my letter.
"Harry!
Why so formal? I've known you since you were a toddler after all. You sound like some old buffer who went to Oxford or something. Write normally the next time.
About your friend, of course we can meet. Just write and tell me where to find you and I'll Apparate there within an hour. My owl Copper here is bred especially for fast delivery.
Mrs Figg (Arabella)"
I've gotten the right lady. No use of denying that. Arabella Figg has always been very frank. Scribbling down my answer with a conveniently attached quill, I send Copper away again, then resume my herb collecting, keeping close to the ruins Sev calls 'the Gingerbread House', as it were the location I had given her.
I am just carefully digging up the roots of some sort of orchid when I hear a well-known voice calling my name.
"Harry, where are you?"
I look up in the general direction of the ruins, but can't see her because of the great pine next to me.
"I'm here, behind the big pine!" I yell back as I reach for the brush I use to get rid of the dirt.
Soon, I hear soft steps coming towards me, and within minutes, I can see the slim and fitted Mrs Figg weave her way towards me through the thick vegetation. I look up briefly from my work and smile at her.
"I'll just finish this," I tell her.
Mrs Figg grins at me, studying the herbs I have already collected.
"What in the world are you making?" she wonderingly asks. "I can't remember making any potion with these herbs ever in school."
"You shouldn't have" I reply, carefully picking the thin threads off the main root to the newly picked orchid. "I think it's advanced extra study for 7th years. I'm not sure though, Sev just gives me the recipe, goes over it with me and then leaves me to be. This one's supposed to heal you – not like the normal healing potions though, but by mixing with your blood stream, speeding up your heart for a few seconds and heal all damaged tissue it passes by congealing and becoming a part of your body. It's just specifically for damage made by extensive amounts of the Cruciatus. This is the first time I've picked the ingredients myself, but I've done the potion so many times I can do it blindfolded."
Mrs Figg is staring at me, a pensive look on her face.
"You're living with Severus," she states.
I rise after putting down my root in the basket and look squarely at her.
"Yes" I calmly admit. "He told me of his life. From that, you should see the reason you're here by yourself."
Mrs Figg sighs and sits down on a stone, a very weary look on her face.
"Donal" she simply says. "You know where I was, differently from Severus."
I nod.
"Why didn't you answer his owls?" I gently wonder, sitting down in the sun-dried moss, looking at her.
She shook her head.
"I wasn't sure about which side he belonged to," she slowly says. "Sure, I heard rumours that he was now a spy for our side from my good friend Minerva McGonagall, but I had no way of making sure of it. And I won't leave Donal with a Death Eater. As I haven't been able to keep updated with the wizard's world."
It is explainable. Knowing the inhabitants of Privet Drive, it isn't hard to see that she wouldn't have been trusted the way she had if owls had been circling her house every day.
"How can I convince you?" I simply say.
The old lady shakes her head.
"No need to "she tells me. "I know Dumbledore wouldn't trust you to anyone questionable in any way."
I smile inwardly at that. That sentence certainly is wrong in some ways. The Dursleys isn't exactly what you would call an exemplary foster family. If you weren't a supporter of slavery of course.
"Does he know about his father?"
A very important question. I, if anyone, should know that. And Mrs Figg nods.
"I've told him everything," she admits. "And even though he can't remember Severus, he wants to meet the man who fathered him so he can have a chance to be with his birth family. He seems to understand that the Severus who murdered his mother and sister wasn't really his father. He is far trustier than I am, already when Severus started teaching again, he wanted to meet him. I held him back though."
Maybe if she hadn't, a lot would've been different now. But then again, maybe not for good. You shall not play with history. One of the main things I've learned about tampering with time.
"He's eighteen now, isn't he?" I casually ask, even if I am terribly curious about the boy Sev had fathered. "Is he a wizard, has he gone to any wizard school?"
Mrs Figg chuckles at my sudden outburst of questions.
"Yes, he's eighteen" she tells me. "And he graduated from Durmstrang this spring."
I raise my eyebrows. Durmstrang? The poor guy had to be half frozen to death. But then again, Durmstrang is famous for its successful DADA teaching (or rather the opposite) and it is understandable as his father had been a Death Eater.
"That's good," I simply say. "He should know how to take care of himself that way."
I move to take my basket.
"Do I have your blessing then, to speak with Donal about reuniting with his father?"
Mrs Figg seems to be taken with my sudden use of formal language but ignore it.
"Of course, Harry" she says. "If you can floo to my house tomorrow, I'll see to you meet."
I nod and start to walk towards my summer home.
"See you tomorrow then"
*****
I talk to Sev this evening about it. Or rather I ask for permission to visit a wizard friend the next day over a magically created and disgustingly healthy dinner. I swear, Sev's trying to turn me into some athlete with all the health food, outdoors exercise and Quidditch training he's been giving me since I arrived.
Anyway, Sev gives his permission. I mean, why wouldn't he? Especially as he has to go to another meeting with Voldemort too. Now, that part, I don't like. It is tearing me up inside having to watch him return from those meetings with Voldemort as a wreck. Suddenly, I am very thankful that I have been out picking the ingredients for his healing potion.
Next morning, I can't help myself, but hug him before he leaves for the meeting. Because I know how hard this is for him. Especially as I've heard his story. So, I take my time to spend time with him before he leaves, trying to lend him some of my strength.
I'm standing by the open fire, groping around in the urn on the shelf next to the fire for some floo powder. Then I throw it into the fire, watching the flames flicker and change colour. And so, after taking a calming breath, I step into the fire.
"Arabella Figg's home, Privet Drive!" I call out as clearly as I can.
So, the nauseating and very bumpy ride begins. I close my eyes and try to think about something else. I truly hate travelling this way. Hate it, hate it, hate it… The floo powder kicks me out of the network, making me stumble into the cat smelling living room of Mrs Arabella Figg. And so, I find myself eye to eye to a tall, black-haired and green-eyed adolescent waiting for me on the couch. He doesn't look a bit like me though. His hair is longer, his eyes paler and his skin more golden. Then, there is the fact that he isn't as skinny as I am (even as the diet Sev has put me on is starting to show some results, I think). He rather looked like his father.
"Harry Potter"
His voice is not like Sev's though. It's more melodic. He doesn't hold the same ability to speak quietly and yet being heard through the highest screams his father has. Well, I have it too. Mainly because I'm a parselmouth. Snakes can't scream after all. They hiss.
"It's great to finally meet you"
He's smiling mischievously at me. And he's not staring at my scar. Which I'm very thankful for.
"Thank you" I smile back. "You must be Donal."
"Yes" Donal replies, a confused look on his face. "And thank you for what?"
That made me grin. It is hard for people to understand how it feels having everyone staring at you all the time.
"For not staring" I clarify. "It's very annoying. I can't see why everyone's trying to idolize me because of something I didn't even rule over."
He shrugs and grins.
"You're welcome then" he grins. "And I can see you point. Personally, I'm more impressed of how you manage to take everything life throws at you without getting snotty. And by the way you handle a broom. I saw you at the Triwizard's Championships. Viktor actually said you're as talented as he, maybe more."
I frown.
"Krum's one of your friends?" I ask. "He has to be one or two years older than you."
Donal nods.
"Yes" he answers. "I'm in the Quidditch team as well."
Quidditch. There's a word for sore eyes.
"Which position?" I curiously ask.
"Beater" he answers with a grin just as infatuated as mine. "I've been in the team since I was twelve."
"Eleven" I tell him. "Our deputy headmistress McGonagall caught me as I fetched a sphere a rival of mine, Draco Malfoy, had thrown away after taking it from a friend of mine on our first flying lesson."
Donal raise his eyebrows.
"You're lucky" he comments.
I shiver.
"I would rather not be," I tell him. "Maybe then, I'd stop running into trouble all the time."
¨Then I get serious.
"Maybe we should talk about what I came for now" I grimly suggests. "I have to be back in a few hours to start preparing a potion."
Donal nods, and I am very thankful for him not asking why I have to prepare a potion. I certainly shouldn't be the one to tell him about that. And as he leads me through the house to something I suspect is his rooms, I ponder where to start.
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