I have news for you. Possibly unwelcome, but not actually bad. -S
Petunia happened to be in the bedroom putting away laundry when she heard the unmistakable rustle of Severus' journal. When she saw the message, she wrote back immediately. I'm here. What is it? -P
Albus Dumbledore has a plant in your neighborhood, Ms. Arabella Figg. -S
What? I thought you said there were no other magical folk around and that the plan was to keep it that way? -P Severus was wrong. So far as Petunia was concerned, this was terrible news.
I thought that was the plan too. Technically, it still is. Arabella is not a witch. She is a squib. -S
You realize I have no idea what that's supposed to mean? -P
I'm getting to it. A squib is one whose parents are both magical but lack any magical ability themselves. Sort of like the opposite of Lily. I do understand Albus' reasoning in this case. Arabella's wizarding family all perished in the war, and our government keep no records of squibs at all if they choose to leave our society. In that way, her cover is perfect. -S
Petunia reread the explanation a few times. He was right, she supposed. It actually wasn't that bad. Petunia had certainly never guessed Arabella had anything to do with the magical community the few times they had met. Still, it rankled. She's been living here for more than a year at this point, Severus. I would have liked to know sooner. -P
I understand. I did not know of her either, or I would have informed you. -S
From that, she assumed the oh-so-wonderful Albus Dumbledore had never intended for her to know at all. Condescending old bat probably remembered the stupid letter she had written him when she was thirteen and hadn't considered she might have matured since then. It's not actually reassuring to have multiple parties from your world spying on us. -P
If it's any consolation, she doesn't seem to be much of a spy. Albus had no idea you were having trouble with the boys fighting, that you had been in hiding for all of the first year, nor that I was involved until I told him. -S
Really? I've run into her with the boys multiple times, and I'm sure she must have heard about 'my brother' by now, with the frequency Harry brings you up. He's not a subtle conversationalist. Not to mention the local gossips as well. -P She supposed she could charitably consider this evidence Severus' cover identity was a good one though.
I suppose she never looked into your family history further. Why does Harry talk about me frequently? -S
Petunia smiled softly then. Severus wouldn't know about that, because she hadn't told him yet. Harry had talked about Severus on and off ever since meeting him for the first time, and even more since his birthday. This weekend, with Marge also bringing Severus up with embarrassing frequency, the commentary was virtually non-stop. God knows. He likes you, I guess. He always points out when he's wearing one of 'Uncle Sev's shirts.' He even told the psychologist about you at our first appointment when he was drawing pictures of the family. She thought you might be a stand-in for his missing parents in his mind, but one that actually comes back, unlike Lily and James. Or maybe he senses the magic in you somehow? Can he do that? -P
Severus' answer was long in coming. It is possible for wizards to sense magic, yes, although the sensation is ordinarily rather vague, and few do the work to train that into a useful skill. If Harry is reacting to my own magic, he won't understand why. He will only know I cause him a different feeling than others. -S
Petunia smirked as she realized Severus probably wouldn't have thought of that possibility if she had not suggested it. What would Lily think of her motherly intuition when it came to weird mumbo-jumbo, hmm? On the other hand, Harry's interest in Severus could still just as easily be what the psychologist had said, and the reason didn't really matter much. Well, that's one mystery solved. Not a bad thing, I guess. Back on the subject of Arabella, I'm not sure what the point of her being here is if she's not even very good at spying on us. -P Rachel and Petunia were both much better gossipmongers.
Well, you don't need a spy, after all. Think of her as my back up. If you ever cannot get in touch with me in a crisis, she will still have ways of engaging with Albus or others in the magical world if needed. -S
She's offered to babysit before. I've never taken her or anyone else up on it for fear of Harry having an 'accident,' but I guess she would be prepared for that. -P
You might as well let her try her hand, particularly if you ever need to go or take Dudley someplace that might be risky for Harry. -S
That was an excellent point, actually. She and Vernon had asked Severus his opinion on possible family vacation destinations before, wanting to make sure they did not accidentally camp next door to some wizarding family. Severus had reassured them the chance of that was pretty low. When they had asked about the capital, though, with hopes of visiting Vernon's parents, Severus had written, London has a lot of us, as well as the offices for the Ministry for Magic. Obviously the city is huge, and he'd likely never be noticed in the crowds, but the address you've written happens to be quite close to Diagon Alley, I'm afraid. -S Diagon Alley was a place Petunia had heard much about from Lily, though never herself seen. Initially, that was their parents' decision, but later, it was her own stubbornness. And then her own fear when Lily told her in whispers carefully hidden from their mother about the increasing violence in the magical world during her last years at Hogwarts.
Petunia deliberately set that thought aside. Proximity to Diagon Alley was a danger to Harry, not to herself. Random wizards did not know Petunia Dursley from any other non-magical stranger. She wrote back, It would be wonderful to visit Vernon's parents together for a change. If you think it a good idea, maybe I will see how Harry gets along with Arabella. I don't want him to feel completely abandoned while the rest of us go somewhere. -P
If it helps, I may be able to coordinate a visit while he's at Arabella's house if you'd be away for more than a day, assuming she (and therefore Albus) would agree to that. Might also be a useful trial run before packing them off to preschool. -S
If we can even find a preschool with openings! But that's another good point. I'll talk to Vernon about it. If nothing else, maybe the two of us can finally have a date night again. -P They hadn't been willing to leave the children in someone else's care for more than an hour at a time, and only then if one or both were settling down for naps.
Petunia's happy imagination stilled at Severus' next message. I should also let you know my availability may become... less reliable. My mother took a turn for the worse. I got the news right after getting back from the party on Friday. -S
Oh, dear. I'm sorry to hear that! -P
Yes ...Anyway, I never take the journal with me to the hospital. Too risky. I'll most likely be spending even more of my weekend time there, for the foreseeable future. -S
How bad is it? You said once before- Petunia stopped writing without finishing the sentence, holding her pen in the air. She never knew how much she should ask, with him. She had a feeling that she probably should press more, though, for his sake as much as anything else.
I said before that she was dying. I can say it with more confidence now. Realistically speaking, she will not recover. I just don't know when the end will come. -S
Good God, the man was so clinical about this, even considering it was in writing rather than spoken word. I'm sorry. I wish there were something I could do. -P
Just keep writing me stories about the children. Those are almost always the highlight of my day. Much more charming and entertaining than what the teenagers here get up to. -S
You only say that because you don't live here. 'Grass is always greener.' But I will do that. -P
There was nothing more, and Petunia closed and locked the book thoughtfully. She should talk to Vernon later, and not just about Arabella Figg. They had made the gradual decision to make Severus a small part of their family. She knew what it was like to lose a parent and have no one to talk to about it, but at least she had had Vernon. She had a strong suspicion that Severus didn't have anyone else that he wanted to talk to about this, or possibly that he didn't have any close friends now that Lily was gone. Why else would he have shown up in tears on her doorstep a year later, particularly in light of the previous estrangement? Why else would he spontaneously tell her he thought his mother was dying several months ago before it was even certain, and then immediately change the subject? She knew his father was dead too, had seen the obituary a few months before Lily's when she was visiting her mum back in Cokeworth, but she also knew Severus' feelings about his father's death were probably much more mixed. Everyone in the neighborhood had known Tobias Snape beat his son black and blue on a regular basis. Severus' losing his mother to whatever wasting illness she apparently had would be different.
Petunia had a feel for this kind of thing, and while other people thought that meant she was "nosy," that was really just a matter of perspective, and a matter of what she did with the information she found. In this case, what she wanted to do... was help a friend get through one of the hardest parts of life.
It felt much longer than three hours for Vernon to return that evening. By the time he did, Petunia had had plenty of time to think of what she wanted to say to one Arabella Figg. "I've already fed the boys. There's a plate for you in the oven, dear. I need to go out for a few minutes."
Vernon kissed her cheek. "Boys acting up today? Keep you from getting to the shops? You should call me at work next time and have me pick things up."
"No, it's something else. I'll tell you when I get back, I just don't want to leave this for too late. Eat without me."
"Alright, Pet." He moved past her towards the parlor. "Daddy's home! Where's Dudders? Oh! Who is that under the blanket? Is it... Ah! Dudders and Harry!"
Petunia smiled at Dudley's excited clamor and Harry's giggling, shrugged into her jacket, put a torch in her pocket since the sun was setting, and headed out the door. It was a short, brisk walk up Privet Drive, past Clematis Street and Ivy Street, and left onto Wisteria Walk. She strode straight up to Ms. Figg's house and knocked on the door rather than politely ringing the doorbell. She wrinkled her nose at the distinct odor of cats lingering on the doormat even outside. After a few seconds, she knocked again, sharply, to make her ire plain before a word was ever spoken. The door opened moments later.
Petunia looked down her nose at Arabella, who was a rather short old woman. She was currently wearing a dressing gown and slippers rather than day clothes. A long-haired, squash-faced cat poked his head around her legs. Petunia frowned at it, then back at Arabella. "You and I need to talk," she said crisply.
Arabella squinted up at her uncertainly. "We do? Is it urgent, Petunia dear?"
"Urgent enough."
"Er, then come on in, of course." She stepped back to allow Petunia passage. The front room was the living room, with a sofa, armchair, coffee table, and television. All perfectly normal except for the unpleasant amount of cat hair covering everything. And cats. The cats were all of them staring at her. "Have a seat. Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you." Ms. Figg stiffened. It was rude to refuse a cup of tea. Petunia knew that just as Arabella did, and Petunia had not even bothered to make her tone polite. She was here to be rude, quite intentionally. Petunia sat in the very middle of the couch, posture upright, ankles crossed, gaze fixed on her host, who duly, and quietly, sat in the flower-print armchair opposite.
"What is this about, Petunia?"
"I have it on good authority that you, Ms. Figg, moved to this neighborhood at the behest of Albus Dumbledore. To spy. On me. And my family. I am displeased."
Arabella's eyes widened. "How did you-"
"I have friends. Ones who are willing and able to keep me informed when something comes to their attention pertinent to me and my family."
The older woman's eyes narrowed. "Who are-"
"If your employer wants you to know, I'm sure he will tell you."
Arabella sighed. "When did you find out?"
"Today."
"Did I do anything to give it away?"
Petunia hesitated for a moment before answering, "No."
"Well, that's a relief at least. Look, I understand why you're upset, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"Are you?" Petunia asked skeptically.
Arabella ducked her head. "Mostly sorry you found out. Albus didn't want you to know I was here. He thought it was more secure that way."
"Well, cat's out of the bag," Petunia said unsympathetically. "I don't appreciate being spied on."
Arabella chuckled briefly. "But Petunia, isn't that what you do? What all the women around here do? Anytime I stop to talk to a neighbor, it's all gossip."
Petunia treated her to a withering glare. "Gossip amongst neighbors is not the same as what you're doing. Albus Dumbledore is an outsider. I don't mind if Rachel Hanson sees what kind of knickers I've got drying on the line. I do mind if it's a strange old man who lives in a castle in Scotland! He doesn't have the right to nose about around here, especially behind my back."
Rather than looking offended, Arabella actually looked thoughtful. "I see where you're coming from," she conceded. "It is different. It's taken me awhile to get used to how things work here. Suburbs, I mean. I grew up out in the country, but I've lived in downtown Manchester for thirty years. In cities, and in the wizarding world for that matter, your friend group may be insular, but the gossip rings aren't arranged geographically. I hardly knew most of the people living in my building. This place is more like the country village than the city, in that respect. Right, how angry are you and Vernon, and how can I make this better so we can work past this? I'm not moving away. I'm here to keep an eye on Harry, for safety reasons. I don't have to be your friend to do that."
"And if we moved, you'd follow," Petunia grumbled.
"Probably," Arabella admitted. "Plus, Albus explained to me that you ideally shouldn't move, at least not while Harry's a child."
"Why?" Petunia asked, despite herself.
"Because he'd have to move all the protective enchantments with you. He said they're finicky, and he would need advanced notice if you ever did need to move. He even said if there was anyone or anything in the neighborhood you particularly didn't get on with, I should give them a nudge myself so as not to inconvenience you, just in case."
Petunia stared at her. "That is creepy."
"Albus is...unconventional."
"Well. You're to do nothing manipulative behind my back. If we decide we want to move, we'll bloody well move! Your precious Albus can complain to me and convince me that his opinions are valid."
"Done."
..."I was expecting you to argue."
Arabella shrugged. "And I was expecting to fly under your radar for years. Albus didn't give me instructions as to what I should do if you unexpectedly found out I was here on his behalf." She grinned. "Probably because he's still drafting the letter. That means tonight is most likely your only chance to negotiate with me as a somewhat free agent. I tend to take Albus advice, but he won't force me to renege on promises I make to you. He's a bit barmy, but he's not like that."
Petunia huffed. "Why are you so loyal to him?" she asked curiously.
"He saved my life, and a lot of other folk like me during the war."
"Squibs?" Petunia asked, remembering the word Severus had used.
Arabella nodded, looking faintly surprised. "A lot of wizard folk don't care much for people like me who can't do magic even though our parents could. Or people like your sister who could do magic even though her parents couldn't, for that matter. Albus cares. He respects us. He fought for us. That's worth my loyalty."
Petunia couldn't really argue with that. She slowly allowed her rigid posture to relax slightly. "I'm willing to forgive you, if you're willing to make some concessions to me."
"Such as?"
"First, how do you make your reports?"
"I write a letter every two weeks and give it to that tomcat there." She pointed at a particularly ugly, tabby fellow. "He's three-quarters kneazle. That's a kind of preternaturally intelligent magical cat, but being a crossbreed with a regular housecat, he doesn't show up if anyone's looking for magical signals in the area. He takes it up the tree in the backyard, and gives it to an owl at night. The owl gets it to Albus, although I think it might change birds partway there or something to make it harder to track."
Well, that was absurdly inefficient compared to Severus' lovely journal. Petunia wasn't about to point that out though. "Alright. You can report anything you want about neighborhood 'security.' You do not report the routine comings and goings of my family, not even Harry. You do not report gossip. You do not speculate about us. You do not report things concerned with our private lives as a family. If you're not sure whether something you think is pertinent should go into the report, ask me."
Arabella considered this but finally nodded. "That sounds reasonable to me. If Albus complains, I'll tell him to talk to you."
"I'd also like to see the next report, before you send it."
"That also sounds reasonable, as a gesture of good faith. It's mostly done, actually. I can show it to you now if you want."
"I'll read it after you've updated it with this lovely little chat."
"Good point. Oh, before I forget, I've also got an emergency portkey Albus enchanted for me upstairs in a lockbox, in case there was ever a big emergency and someone needed to get out fast. It would work for your whole family in a pinch." She shrugged. "Not that it looks like we'll ever be needing it at this point, but I figured you'd like to know, while we're on the subject of my covert connections with the magical world."
Petunia's eyes narrowed. "What's a portkey?"
"Well, this one's a stick, but there's a spell on it so that if you break off the little twig on the end, anyone who's touching it will be rapidly transported to a safehouse...down in Devon, I think."
Petunia's heart skipped a beat, just at the concept that such an escape route had been planned. She hated these odd reminders of potential danger. She did not let her discomfort show, though. "Hmm. I hope you were planning to keep that thing very secure in its lockbox if ever I consented to let you babysit Harry and Dudley at some point."
Arabella actually laughed. "Oh, of course! Toddlers, they do get into everything, eh? Magical ones can be even worse. No, I keep it where even a determined little Harry nosing after a whiff of magic wouldn't be able to ferret it out. Were you actually interested in the babysitting idea, though?"
Petunia shrugged. "Maybe. I always refused before because of the risk of a babysitter seeing Harry do something unusual."
"Mm. Does he have accidents often? My nephews weren't all that noticeable until they were a little older than Harry is, but every once in a while they'd do something that made me awfully glad my sister's next-door neighbors were also witches."
"You'll find out if and when Vernon and I decide that's information you deserve to know."
She laughed again. "Goodness, Petunia, I see your boys have themselves a mighty, and careful, defender."
"Do you blame me?"
"No. Of course not. And I think meeting you, actually meeting you, and having this honest conversation has made it clear to me that Albus was on the wrong track sending me here in secret. You're someone who does better with more information, aren't you?" Petunia wasn't sure how to answer that, but Arabella continued anyway. "I'll still be working for Albus, but I'm happy to be a resource for you too, now that we can see eye-to-eye. Little children are hard enough to take care of in and of themselves, let alone when they start making new trouble out of thin air."
"Did you ever have children?"
"No... and my marriage didn't last." She grinned, but it was mournful. "I was an idiot hoping to snag a wizard back in my beauty days. I didn't realize how unlikely that was for... decades."
"Why unlikely?"
"Well, almost every witch and wizard in the country goes to Hogwarts. Everyone knows everyone else who's anywhere near their own age from school. Half of them get married within a few years of graduation! It's hard enough as a squib to keep a foothold in the magical world at all, let alone find ways to meet new people when the community you're trying to break into is so tight-knit. Not to mention the posh pricks who wouldn't consider it because you're a squib." Seemed Petunia had hit a sore point. She decided to let the surprisingly chatty woman ramble, listening quietly as Arabella grumbled about the prejudice that so flavored the life of a squib in the magical world. She did not say so, but Petunia knew enough from Lily's old whispers and Severus' dark comments, she had the distinct feeling that prejudice had spilled over into actual violence during the war. It wouldn't be polite to ask about that this evening though. Eventually, Arabella shrugged. "I did meet a very nice muggle widower when I was forty, but I realized a few years after I married him that I was settling for a life I didn't really want. He didn't like cats much, and he really didn't like mine, since they're all part-kneazle and liked antagonizing him for fun. So we divorced. And then the war happened. And then I moved here. It's not actually that bad, living alone and under cover. At least no one complains about the cats."
"I would, if I were here every day," Petunia told her bluntly. "But it's your house, I suppose." She stood up. "It's late. I should be going."
"I can't decide if I should thank you for coming or not," Arabella mused as she climbed to her feet as well.
"I'll thank you. For listening well. And being reasonable. Not like your barmy boss."
"I might have to put that in the report. Give Albus a good chuckle. Why don't you come over for tea later this week, Petunia dear? We can talk some more, and I can show you the report. If you want to bring the boys, I do have a litter of kittens in the spare bedroom upstairs right now, and they're at a good age for children. Not so small they'll be easily hurt with un-gentle handling, not so large to have dangerous scratches or bites."
"I'll think about it and ring you tomorrow. I have your number from before."
"Good, good. That sounds lovely. Goodnight, then, Petunia."
"Goodnight, Arabella."
The two women shook hands, then Arabella escorted Petunia out, catching a would-be escaping cat by the tail before it could try to follow Petunia out the door. Night was falling fast. Petunia switched on her torch and stalked back down the footpath, headed for home. Overall, she was pleased with how that conversation had gone, and she was glad she had taken care of it without dithering overly much with either Severus or Vernon. Better for she and Arabella to come to a women's agreement and inform their menfolk rather than the other way around. Arabella was someone who was willing to respect Petunia's maternal authority. Unlike Albus Dumbledore.
Author's note: probably won't be seeing that much of Ms. Figg, but nice for Petunia to have an older woman to talk to even if it ends up mostly off-screen. One of Petunia's primary characteristics in the books is of course nosiness. My version of the character is just as nosy as the original, but as Petunia says, it's a matter of perspective whether this is a good or bad thing. In a tight-knit community, which is what my version of Little Whinging is, nosiness about your neighbors is pretty normal and accepted even if it is annoying, but equally normal is protectiveness of your neighbors from outside intrusion. And I'd argue the cannon wizarding community is the same way, with everyone knowing everybody and half the newspaper being gossip column. I honestly found it kind of weird when I moved away from my own small town into an apartment building and rarely saw most of my neighbors at all, yet Gossip River continued to run strong at work lol.
