Harry Potter and The Silly Name
By Rob Morris
WISTERIA WALK, LITTLE WHINGING, SUMMER OF 1988, HOME OF ARABELLA FIGG
Mrs. Figg's houseguest became excited.
"There's a car outside, and it's – it's FLYING!"
He was supposed to be bored out of his mind. He was supposed to always be bored out of his mind so that his sadistic relatives would be pleased to place him with her. She worked to make it so boring, she herself wanted to scream. Now, though, she wanted to scream for vastly different reasons.
"Feebs, of all times – now?"
"Mrs. Figg, what's going on out there? How is there a car that flies – like it was a witch's broom?"
Arabella pointed harshly at the boy.
"There are no such things as wizards or their brooms!"
"I said witches."
"Those too! Now calm yourself, Harry Potter. The car must have approached from an odd angle and the streetlights outside fooled your vision, which as we know, is not perfect. Now sit down."
The boy felt the excitement drain away, and this was not a new feeling at all.
"Yes Ma'am."
The knock at the door was of course, small, polite and timed to never be obnoxious.
"Perfect as always, Feebs. Ever as always."
Gathering herself, and eyeing Harry to keep seated, Arabella opened her front door. The woman on the other side was still as beautiful as the last time she saw her, her ageing of course slowed considerably by 'the family talent' – a talent Arabella was once again reminded that she did not have, and never would.
"Hello, hello – big sister."
Despite some old wounds opening, Arabella tried to smile at the untimely visitor.
"Hello, hello – little sister. It's been an age, Phoebe. Please come in. Just be mindful of what you say around my impressionable young houseguest – Harry Potter."
Phoebe Figalily's eyes went wide as saucers.
"You mean that's the boy who-"
Arabella cut her off.
"Yes, the boy who lives over on Privet Drive. I must have mentioned him in my letters. Very impressionable, as I said. Just swore he saw a flying car, of all things."
Phoebe walked past her sister and looked at the boy.
"You mean to say, he doesn't even know who he really is?"
She turned back to look at Arabella.
"Bad enough you shortened your surname to Figg, but you deny this boy his heritage?"
"I was under instructions to keep a close eye on him and report to the headmaster – his family is the one who has never told him and I was told not to change that. He's three years away from his letter, and then he will know."
The boy whose sight was not so good had perfectly good hearing.
"Who are you reporting on me to? Is it Uncle Vernon? What heritage – my poor eyesight – I –"
Phoebe raised her hand in front of Harry's face.
"Harry, I am sorry. But you will no longer recall this part of the conversation until my sister tells you it's alright to – entirely her choice."
Some part of Harry seemed to be fighting against this.
"May I see the car?"
Phoebe smiled.
"In fact, you can sit inside it – just don't try to drive it."
"I wouldn't know how."
Harry got up to seat himself inside the Model A Convertible Roadster. When he was away and out of earshot, Figg let loose on her sister.
"No wand? It must be nice to be part of The Coven Of Ancients. How dare you place the most vital resource our parents' world has in jeopardy by blurting out things like that?"
Phoebe doffed her small cape but stood her ground.
"So he's a resource? Looks like a child to me. I should know, I have three of them, all now in and out of colleges. Honestly, I know Dumbledore can be a bit of a schemer, bless him, but to ensure bad guardians keep him locked in misery – unless – are they blood? Yes, that would keep The Dark Lord – if he still exists – away, and would at least mitigate the efforts of any who strike in his name – do they still exist?"
Arabella shot back.
"What do you think? That sort existed long before he gained a single recruit – I should know – you recall, 'Arabumponalog'?"
Phoebe grew sharper in tone.
"I picked fights with anyone who called you such names, and mother and father never tolerated anyone to use such language inside our home!"
Figg wasn't having it.
"No, to them I was Poor Dear Ara, with 'if only' nearly being my middle name. Not only did the talent skip by me, but in you, it flowered so strongly you were taken into an exclusive order – and then you left for America just as the Order here could have really used someone of your talents."
Phoebe looked down.
"That was hard. But Aunt Henrietta told me to obey the Coven, and aiding those three children to their destinies was vital to a better world yet to be. I still believe that, but at times I still feel like a deserter. The hardest part has been keeping my touch in matters subtle – especially hard recently."
Arabella turned back to look at her sister, and realized what must have occurred.
"Harold?"
Phoebe shrugged.
"My husband's heart was large – too large, it seems – and his pipe habit didn't help matters. The children dealt with it better than I have – and in this time, I needed to see my big sister. I'm so sorry I came without notice, and upset your mission – though meeting Harry Potter was almost worth it. Wait'll I tell Prudence. She has the talent."
Arabella held and hugged her baby sister hard.
"You poor thing – and I chastised you over childhood nonsense. How have you gotten through?"
Phoebe smiled anew.
"Just as you taught me – with a little bit of faith and love. With those about, fantastic things always keep happening."
Arabella was in tears.
"At least since the day you arrived, Feebs. Oh, I do see our aunts and uncles on occasion – when they need a Kneazle or care for one – we should check on Harry."
"Don't worry – the car has several wards, including against those bearing the dark mark. Can never be too careful. Let me have tea with my big sissy. I have to pop into Stonehenge before I head back to settle Harold's affairs and clean out his office."
Harry was invited back inside, and seemed so happy, Arabella feared she'd have to triple down on boring him to erase that look of ease and comfort – or just have her sister do it. That seemed safest.
"It's such a lovely car – and it seemed, I dunno – friendly? What is it called?"
Phoebe corrected the neutral pronoun.
"She is a Model A Ford Convertible Roadster – and her name is Arabella."
Figg nodded.
"You named her for Auntie."
Phoebe shook her head.
"I named her for you. Because being around her, I never feel overwhelmed or sad – or like an overachieving freak. I named her after one of the things I love the most in the world. Now Harry – I place the recall of that car and the lovely time you just had behind the same wall as that earlier conversation. But one day, you will remember, as you venture out – to make the impossible happen."
Phoebe left after tea, taking care to be well out of sight before her making her lovely car perform up to her true specs. Harry looked out after it as both the car, its driver and the memory receded.
"What does your sister do?"
Arabella hated the necessity of the fading, but it was a necessity, no doubt.
"Well, she was a Nanny once – but you could say she became married to her work – literally."
Harry shook his head.
"Figalily?"
Arabella watched him fade further.
"I shortened it when I moved out on my own – business reasons."
Harry turned to go to his still-better-than-a-cupboard room and go to bed.
"I can see why. She's a lovely person – but that is a silly name."
Which Arabella met with a glare – even if she technically agreed with him.
HOGWARTS, 1999
The Aurors' substation inside the former Chamber Of Secrets was nearly done, and Harry had Kingsley's promise that he could finally see field work with the biggest nests of Potter-hating dark wizards taken to account. But that work was on hold for this day.
"Will your friend arrive soon? I've just found another compartment of Dumbledore's notes on – a flying car?"
Hermione saw Harry smile.
"She's fully authorized. The passengers requested that you be here with me when they arrived."
Hermione marveled at the site.
"Model A? They replaced the Model T – and it's absolutely lovely."
Harry corrected as the car landed on the grass in front of them, drawing many spectators. Two women exited, wearing small hoods with small capes. The older of the two – still looking smashing – embraced Harry.
"Good to know Ara relented. Harry, you've done us all proud. The Coven Of Ancients wished me to present you with this – Pru?"
Prudence Everett opened a small box containing a jewel on a pendant.
"Our Coven acknowledges the steadfast amongst us, and one who held on in the face of the unspeakable – The True Master Of The Three."
Harry took it and nodded in appreciation.
"The one who held on had a boatload of help and support in doing so – meet most of that all in one person, Hermione Granger."
Phoebe looked at Hermione.
"My dear, The Coven Of Ancients has need of a most able archivist – and my old friend Harry Potter has been about enthusiastically recommending one. Will you accept?"
Prudence added her two cents.
"Be honest with you – it's a lot like an endless wave of homework."
Hermione grabbed and kissed Harry's cheek, and held him for dear life while blushing beet red.
"Stupid people keep asking me if anything went on while we hid out in the woods – and I tell them it couldn't have – because how could I love you any more?!"
Hermione then looked at her guests, particularly the elder.
"I'm a fool. I never even asked for your names."
Pru took it in stride.
"We must be fools as well, since we never gave ours. Prudence Everett."
Hermione shook her hand and Phoebe went next.
"Phoebe Everett – though for Coven purposes, I still go by my birth name, Phoebe Figalily. You likely know my sister, Arabella Figg."
Hermione stopped. Despite knowing many a wizarding clan's name and the naming structures, something didn't flow right to her.
"Figalily – that's a si –"
Harry hurriedly whispered.
"Don't say it."
