The Watcher

Chapter 9-An Unfit Guardian

By Magoo

Immediately following Jane's first Remembrance Day, Arabella fell into something of a funk.  It was growing progressively harder to understand that for the next ten years, she would have to stay quiet about her true identity.  There had been a public memorial for Jane, and she had chosen, of her own volition, to stay well clear of it.  Facing people wasn't something that she was, so far, prepared to do.  Instead, she needed to concentrate on this new identity.  Become Old Mrs. Figg.  Adapt to this life, whether she wanted to or not.

The sound of the doorbell ringing caused Arabella to drop her spoon into her porridge.  Who could be there at eight in the bloody morning?  It wasn't one of her days to be with Harry, and she wasn't even close to being overdue on her current Ministry assignment…

It rang again.  Whoever it was seemed to be growing more and more impatient as the frequency of rings increased.

Grumbling, Arabella stood up and walked to the door.

"Mrs. Dursley," she gasped.  "What are you doing here at such an early hour.  And with baby Harry at that?"

"Oh Mrs. Figg," Petunia wailed.  "It's dreadful.  My precious Duddy-Doo has caught Harry's cold.  I must get my Duddy to the doctor immediately.  So, could you be a lifesaver and watch the boy for me?"

Arabella didn't even have to think about it.  "Of course Petunia dear, I'd be glad to help you out any way that I can."

"Wonderful!" Petunia exclaimed.  She placed Harry on a chair.  "I'll come back for him after I'm sure that my dear Duddy-kins is all better.  Such a burden an ill child is, but of course my Duddy-poo will receive only the best of care."

She left the house without so much as looking back to make sure Harry was all right.

Arabella stared at Petunia's retreating back in disgust.  How could anyone care so little for their own blood?  Regardless of what Petunia would choose to believe, Harry was still her nephew, still her family.  Yet this woman had been left in charge of Harry's fate?

Sighing, Arabella lifted Harry out of the chair.  Even though he was just over twenty-one months, he was almost…well, stunted.  As if he had stopped growing once he had been taken out of a loving household.  From what she remembered from Lily's discussions on the matter, he should be walking, and speaking a lot more than he was.  Yet he was so withdrawn, so frail. He shouldn't be like this.  He should be active, smiling, talking and walking… Getting ready to be toilet trained.  Going through the terrible twos.  Being, well, active.  And he wasn't.

All I had to do was watch their son, Arabella thought furiously.  Make sure that he grew up right.  And its only been a few months, and I've already failed.

"Come on Harry," Arabella muttered.  "Please pull through this."

His response, a flurry of tears, was not exactly encouraging.

"It's all Petunia's fault," she informed him bitterly.  "She is your legal guardian after all.  But, her precious Dud has to come first, just because he has a…"

Arabella trailed off, as she remembered exactly why Dudley had got sick.  He'd caught Harry's cold.  Placing a hand on his forehead, she turned pale.

"You're burning up!" she informed the whimpering baby.  "You've been sick for how long, and Petunia didn't do anything? We, we have to do something!"

Do something Ari! a nasty voice in the back of her head asked.  You barely know anything about children.  Listening to Lily talk about babies doesn't count.   You were lucky before.  You didn't have to do anything but watch him.  Now what are you going to do? 

"Poppy," Arabella muttered.  "Must call Poppy."

Inwardly, Arabella was cursing herself.  She should know how to take care of a child better than this.  Particularly since she was this one's watcher.  Placing Harry in a playpen, she quickly lit a fire in the fireplace.  Reaching for the jar next to the fireplace, she threw some of the sparkling powder into the flames.

"Madam Pomfrey!" she called desperately.  "I need you."

Madam Pomfrey's head soon appeared in the flames.  She stared at Arabella, obviously not recognizing her.

"Can I help you Miss?" she inquired.  "Obviously, you must need some assistance, since you have a direct line to Hogwarts, but I'm afraid I don't recognize you…"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake Madam Pomfrey, it's me, Arabella," came the reply, as Arabella shifted back into her natural form.  "Sorry, I forgot about my pendant."

"Arabella!" Madam Pomfrey said in surprise.  "I wasn't expecting to see you again, well, not for a while anyway."

"I know," Arabella sighed.  "I hadn't exactly intended to remain around after…"

Madam Pomfrey stared at Arabella, her eyes filled with sympathy.  "Yet you're here now," she said.  "And you seemed to need my help.  So, what can I do for you?" she asked, once again reverting to her famous businesslike manner.

"It's Harry Potter," Arabella whispered.  "He's ill."

"Harry?  Harry Potter?" she asked in amazement.  At Arabella's nod, she continued, "But, how could you know this? Unless… you are the guardian Albus appointed?"

"Yes," Arabella said quickly.  "I am.  And Harry is ill.  And I just don't know what to do!"

Arabella's fear had to be evident on her face.  If Poppy was unable to help Harry, she honestly had no idea what she would do.

"Let me through your fire," Poppy said sharply.  "And I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Arabella said, breathing a sigh of relief. Stepping back from the fire, she waited for Poppy to Floo through the grate.

Poppy brushed the ashes off her robes and strode out of the fireplace.

"Well?" she inquired, in her usual businesslike manner.  "Where is he?"

Leading Poppy into the sitting room, she gestured to her young charge.  "Poppy, can you do anything?"

Poppy didn't answer her, she just went straight to work checking over Harry.  A few tense moments later, she turned towards Arabella and said through gritted teeth, "Exactly WHAT have you been doing to this poor child, Ari?  He's malnourished, barely responsive, has a very high fever, and looks like he hasn't even been washed in nearly a week!  You have no business raising a child.  What on earth do you think you are doing?"

Arabella flinched under the torrent of verbal abuse coming from Madam Pomfrey.

"Madam Pom-" she began, but soon realized she was unable to get a word in edgewise.  Madam Pomfrey had already made up her mind about who was responsible for the abuse Harry had undergone.

"Of all the irresponsible, outrageous behavior I have ever seen in my entire life, this has to be the worst," Poppy snapped, continuing the tongue-lashing.  "I knew people were talking, but I didn't believe them.  I figured that it was all gossip and lies.  That you couldn't have been in league with that…that… traitor that you were dating, but to torture their son like this… why, I should have you arrested, like the Death Eater you –"

"Stop that!" Arabella shrieked.  "You don't know what you're talking about Poppy.  I'm not the one with custody of Harry.  The Ministry wouldn't give him to me.  The Headmaster wouldn't give him to me.  Petunia, Lily's sister has him.  This is the first time I've seen him all week."

Poppy's face softened just a bit, yet suspicion was still evident in her eyes.  "But, you said…."

"I said that I'm his guardian, yes, but not in the legal sense," Arabella said glumly.  It was taking all her effort not to burst into tears.  Between Poppy's words and Arabella's own sense of guilt, she wasn't going to be able to handle this.

"They wouldn't give him to me Poppy," she said quietly.  "Because of the same reasons you've just given me.  Nobody believes me.  I didn't know.  None of us did.  Not even Lily or James."

Arabella rubbed her eyes, and continued, "This is the first time I've seen Harry all week.  I'd taken off for Jane's Remembrance."

"Odd," Poppy said, "I didn't see you at the formal ceremony."

"I never was one for big crowds," Arabella said.  At Poppy's stare, she managed a slight smile.  "Okay, that's a lie.  I used to like crowds, and being the center.  But not anymore.  Not the way that people look at me now.  They'd have all thought the same things that you did.  That somehow I was involved.  And I wasn't Poppy, I swear!"

Poppy softened, but not much.  Arabella noticed the hesitation.

"You don't believe me either," she said with a sigh.  "That's all right.  Nobody does."

The sheer despair that Arabella was radiating must have got to Poppy, who visibly softened.

"Let me see if I can do anything for Harry," she said, smiling kindly.  "And then I'll see what I can do for you."

As Poppy returned to looking after Harry, Arabella managed a faint smile.  Poppy was on her side now.  Poppy had always been one of the most stubborn people at Hogwarts, but once Poppy had pledged her loyalty to someone, it was nearly impossible for her to have her change her mind about a person.  Poppy's loyalty to Remus had been legendary.  She had always done her best to protect him and shield him during their time at Hogwarts.  This loyalty had extended to the rest of the Marauders as well.  HAD.  Yet this had shaken Poppy's trust in them.

"Have you heard from Remus?" Arabella blurted out. 

"Yes," Poppy said quietly.  "His transformation immediately after Halloween… it wasn't a good one."

Arabella winced.  Yet another way she had betrayed Remus.  She hadn't been there for him.  But at least he and Poppy were still on good terms. Poppy still believed in him.

Now it was up to Arabella to re-earn that trust.

Poppy suddenly sighed in frustration.  "There isn't really anything that I can do.  You'll have to take him to St. Mungo's.

"Of course Poppy," Arabella said, nodding her head.  It would be best to agree with Poppy's assessments for now.  Maybe later…

"I should have thought of that myself, after all St. Mungo's is the best hospital for magical maladies in England."  But something in that statement didn't make sense to Arabella.  St. Mungo's specialized in magical maladies.  For the common cold, a healer would do.  So why couldn't Poppy do anything?

Arabella looked up at Poppy, her eyes questioning.

Poppy stared at her.  "You honestly don't understand?" she asked in surprise.  "Harry isn't growing.  He seems stunted emotionally.  I remember him being much more active than he is now. 

"The mediwizards need to have a look at him.  See if they can counteract the damage that has already been done.  If nothing is done soon, he'll never reach his full height.  Even worse, he may never grow into his powers.

"I know you're doing your best Ari," she continued.  For the first time, Arabella wasn't bothered by the use of her old nickname.  To Poppy, it was still a term of endearment.  "Albus would never have appointed you if you were incompetent.  And I can see how worried you are," she paused for emphasis, "and I can tell that you love him."

"He's my godson Poppy, of course I love him.  He's all I have left."

Taking Harry into her arms, Arabella motioned towards the fireplace.  "Thank you so much," she said quietly.

"No problem dear," Poppy replied, flashing her a quick smile.  She quickly resumed her usual businesslike manner.  "Well, hurry up.  You haven't got all day."

Taking some Floo powder of her own, Poppy stepped into the fire and disappeared in a flash of green flames.

"Well Harry," Arabella said, looking at the sleeping child in her arms.  "Here we go."

Throwing some Floo Powder into the fire, she stepped into the flamed and shouted, "St. Mungo's!"

~*~

Holding Harry tightly, Arabella stepped out of the fireplace and into the hospital.  She was nearly blinded by the extreme glare coming from the walls.  Everything around her was a stark white, and the lights were extremely bright.  The glare was such that Arabella didn't even notice the young man coming from the opposite direction until she'd walked straight into him.

Squinting in an attempt to get through the glowing lights, Arabella smiled as she recognized him.

"Dungbomb!" she exclaimed happily.  "It's so good to see you."

Mundungus "Dungbomb" Fletcher had been a few years ahead of her at Hogwarts, and prior to Sirius breaking it, had held the record for most Dungbombs set off at a single event.

He stared at her for a moment.  "Arabella?  Arabella Figg?  Is it really you?"  He stared at her.  "What's with the kid?"

"He's my charge Dungbomb.  And he needs to see a mediwizard.  Why are you here?"

"I came to check on my partner.  I don't know if you heard, but some Death Eaters… they attacked Frank and his family a few months ago.  All three of them, well, it's bad.  They don't know if Frank or Carol will ever wake up.  Neville is, well, he's recovering.  They had to wipe his memories.  But, he isn't quite back to where he was before.  They don't think he ever will be.  The sheer trauma from it all…" he trailed off.

"Oh Dungbomb, I'm so-"

"Mundungus," he interrupted.  "My name is Mundungus."

Arabella smiled in sympathy.  "Believe it or not, I understand perfectly."

An errant thought occurred to her.  "Who is watching Neville then?  Do you have custody?"

"No," Mundungus sighed.  "Aletheia Longbottom, Frank's mother, has custody.  And she isn't too fond of me, or anyone else, getting near her family.  She doesn't trust me, or anyone else, around them anymore.

"With Frank and Carol basically, well, gone, I don't have anything.  I lost my family in the war.  And most of my friends were killed as well.  I have nothing now, except for well… you'll think it's silly."

"Neville?" Arabella said, venturing a guess.

He nodded.  "I promised Frank when we became partners that if anything happened to him, I'd watch his family.  I don't even have a job anymore.  Crouch is cutting down on Aurors.  I have nothing, except for my promise."

"At least you still have your good name," Arabella replied sarcastically.  "I don't even have that."

"I have to go," Mundungus said abruptly.  "I need to see if I can see Neville.  They're bringing him in for another exam.  Trying to work out how much damage there is.  They're afraid that he'll never be able to adequately use magic.  That the Memory Charm was too powerful for such a young kid.  We'll finish this another time Ari?  It's nice to have someone I can actually talk to…."

"Of course Mundungus," Arabella said, smiling.  "I have to go as well.  Need to see the mediwizard."

Walking off, Arabella approached the help desk.  A harried looking witch sat there, rapidly processing various forms and not paying much attention to Arabella.

"Excuse me," Arabella began.

The witch looked up.  "Yes, how can I help you?  We're quite busy today."

"My godson needs to see a mediwizard.  Poppy Pomfrey sent us."

For the first time, the receptionist looked up.  "And Poppy sent you why?"

"It's my godson here.  He has a cold, and Poppy is concerned about his health."

"Room 87, on the left," came the curt reply.

Sitting down in the aforementioned room, Arabella held Harry tightly in her arms.  He was sniffling again from the cold.

"Shh, sweetie," she whispered. "It'll be okay."

Only Harry's cries answered her.

~*~

Arabella returned home, discouraged over what she had been told at St. Mungo's.  Harry's recovery process would be difficult.  His cold would be easy to cure, but the damage inflicted upon him by the Dursleys' lack of caring would not be.  Yet she would do her best, and just pray that her best would be good enough.

Author's note-thanks to Dr C for naming Neville's Gran, and thanks to Sweeney for coming up with the same name (albeit with a different spelling) two seconds later, thus proving I had to use it.  This chapter is dedicated to my sisters, for being the most amazing women on the planet, and to the wonderful QoHG, for encouraging me, no matter what.