Harry woke to the sound of birdsong and the distant clatter of teacups. At first, he wasn't sure where he was. Everything was bright, too bright. And the air smelled like mint and antiseptic. His vision blurred, swimming in soft light, until shapes resolved into the tall, arched windows of the Hogwarts hospital wing.
He lay beneath crisp white sheets. His chest ached when he breathed too deeply, and his right arm tingled as if he strained it. His glasses rested neatly on the nightstand beside him, next to a bottle of Wiggenweld potion and a strip of chocolate from Madam Pomfrey. A small enchanted plant on the windowsill leaned toward the sunlight, its petals slowly opening and closing like it was asleep.
The ceiling above him was painted with soft charms to mimic the weather outside. Today, it showed a warm spring sky streaked with drifting clouds.
Harry blinked again, suddenly remembering what happened. His thoughts went immediately to Lynne. He sat up too quickly and a wave of dizziness crashed through him, dropping him back onto the bed.
"Ahh. Easy there, my boy." came the calm and unmistakable voice of Professor Dumbledore beside him.
Harry turned his head to find the Headmaster standing up beside his bed, with robes of exotic colours, his hands clasped over his glasses and a small book. His blue eyes twinkled behind the spectacles, though there was a weight in them today, probably concerned for him or what happened.
"You've had quite the adventure, Harry." Dumbledore said softly. "You don't mind if I Take a bit of candy, don't you, my boy?" He said pointing at an arrangement of boxes sitting at the end of the bed.
Harry looked surprised at the amount of magical candy left there.
"Tokens, from your admirers."
"Admirers? Wait. Lynne." Harry croaked. "Where is she? Is she alright?"
"She is alive, if you can consider her as such." Dumbledore answered. Picking a small bean from one of the boxes. "Resting. Her injuries were… considerable. But she's recovering. Thanks, I imagine, to her own nature more than anything else."
Harry slumped back, allowing that to sink in. The sharp edges of memories were starting to return to him. The Stone, Quirrell, the cold shadow that passed through them, that unbearable weight in his chest. And now the feeling that Voldemort was not truly gone.
"The Stone." Harry said. "What happened to it?"
Dumbledore's gaze turned toward the window for a moment, as if weighing how much truth to give.
"He was not able to take it. The Mirror of Erised served its purpose exactly as it was meant to. Only someone who wanted to find the Stone, but not use it, could retrieve it. I already called for my friend Nicholas to come pick it up, for safekeeping."
Harry then looked down, relaxing a bit for the first time since he woke up.
"I couldn't stop him. He-he was already there. And Lynne… she-"
"You did stop him, Harry." Dumbledore said firmly. "You and miss Volant both. Professor Quirrell is gone though, and what possessed him has fled, set back for now."
Harry swallowed. "It was Voldemort, wasn't it?"
"Yes." Dumbledore said simply.
The word hung in the air, like a crack in the ceiling no one could fix. Dumbledore stood and walked slowly to the foot of Harry's bed.
"What happened in that chamber between you and Quirell is a secret, so naturally, the whole castle knows." he said with a jesting tone.
Harry processed that in silence. Rumours had not been kind this year.
"And Lynne?" he asked again, softer now. "Will she be alright?"
Dumbledore's face softened. "That is a question I cannot fully answer. She is unique, carrying more than most students ever should." There was a feeling of regret in his voice.
"She asked for you as soon as she woke up." Dumbledore added. "But I believe you will see her for the end of term feast."
Harry nodded slowly, his thoughts turning inward. He had so many questions and doubts, having been told the dark lord was not gone and probably looking to murder him in the future was heavy enough weight in his mind.
"Professor." he said after a long pause. "Why me? And why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"
Dumbledore paused, contemplating "It was because of your mother. She sacrificed herself for you, and that kind of act leaves a mark. It is embedded in your very skin. That is why, Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you. The short answer is love, Harry."
Harry didn't quite understand, but he nodded anyway. As Professor Dumbledore exited the hospital wing he briefly thought on his words. His mother probably used some risky magic in order to keep him safe in her last moments.
Harry leaned back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted again. The spring sun warmed the sheets. As he began to drift back to sleep, his thoughts turned to Hermione as well, hopefully she was alright.
----0000----
Madam Pomfrey had insisted on keeping him until his sleep was no longer "full of twitching and muttering." but he had argued that he was fine and he was let go earlier.
The first person to greet him outside the infirmary was Lynne, who hugged him tighter than he expected and somehow had recovered faster than him, her limbs reattached or fixed, he wasn't sure. He was not used to her giving those acts of affection but it was comforting at least. Then she checked him over, and once she was sure he was fine, she smiled at him.
"I'm glad you are alright, Harry." she said simply.
He was about to ask her about her recovery when Hermione appeared round the corner and lunged pulling him into a crushing hug. Her bushy hair smashing at his face as he laughed.
"You look awful." she said, which was her way of saying I'm glad you're alive.
"I'm sure I look Dashing." He teased.
He looked around, remembering what he had meant to ask but Lynne was looking somewhere else, staring at something in the distance. For him, she looked a bit lost in the moment and hesitated. He was brought back from his thoughts by an anxious Hermione.
"We still have the last week of classes." Hermione said. "I'm still nervous about my exams."
Harry chuckled. "Of course, that's what you are worried about."
She glared at him and he laughed harder.
The rhythm had returned to Hogwarts, they had a few classes where they were handed their marksheets. He had done well, and only in History of Magic he didn't have an Outstanding, Binns probably didn't know his name so he was skeptical of his mark. It was still a passing grade so in the end he didn't really care and one hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons was not really important in the long run.
He had done well with the charms exams, attributing animation to an inanimate object was not hard for him and turning a mouse into a snuff box for Transfiguration had been just as easy.
In Potions admittedly he got help from Lynne by using the pocket watch and he was sure he made the forgetfulness potion perfectly, but he was still surprised Professor Snape actually marked him with an O.
Students whispered about their own marks, sharing them with one another. The Quidditch cup was somehow won by Slytherin because even though Ravenclaw won their last match, it was not by the difference in points that they needed. The castle was brimming with rumours about him as well, and the disappearance of Professor Quirrell.
Something that stood out was that Lynne was silent almost the entire week, and she still had that lost look from time to time which was unnerving.
"She's back in the dorms," Hermione said quietly. "But she… hasn't really been speaking to anyone. Not even the Ravenclaws."
"I know." replied Harry.
They walked the halls together, watching students carry armfuls of books and broomsticks, laughing about house points and year-end pranks. His thoughts still with his friend.
That evening, Dumbledore stood at the front of the Great Hall. The long tables were decked in house banners, the candlelight soft above their heads. The usual Hogwarts ceremony atmosphere hung in the air, similar to the welcoming or Halloween feasts. A speech followed congratulating everyone for another year gone by.
Then came the Awards. Ravenclaw had the most house points, followed very closely by Slytherin with only 5 points difference, the closest in history, having won the Quidditch cup they almost got first place.
"This year, Ravenclaw has won the House Cup, with intellect, discipline, and resilience." Dumbledore said.
A quiet ripple of applause followed, the Ravenclaw table clapping politely but proudly. He turned toward the students seated at that long table, eyes lingering on Lynne for only the briefest moment.
"For services rendered in the protection of this school." he said, "I would also like to acknowledge four students: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Virgil Fowler..." A pause. "And Lynne Volant."
Harry smiled awkwardly at people looking at him, he glanced down the table at her. Lynne sat still, her arms folded, her head bowed slightly, her food untouched, gaze lost.
The room clapped, not as loud as it could have been, although Dumbledore had said that everyone knew what happened, he saw that many were not aware of why they were being awarded with mentions at his speech.
After the meal, students filed out toward their dormitories. Harry, Hermione, and Virgil hung back a little longer near the courtyard arch, watching the twilight creep in through the stained-glass windows.
"She hasn't been the same since. I'm worried." Virgil said, quietly.
Harry looked at him.
Virgil glanced toward the far end of the Hall, where Lynne had just slipped out the side door alone. "She smiles too much. And then not at all. It's like watching someone stuck between dreams."
Hermione frowned. "Maybe she's… recovering."
"From what you told me, having to fight for her life might have shocked her." Virgil replied. "So you might be right."
Harry didn't argue, although he also had a few nightmares that week. He didn't want to feel guilty, but having killed someone with his hand hadn't settled in his mind yet.
That night, at the Ravenclaw tower, Harry saw Lynne standing by the window alone, staring out across the grounds. The Quidditch pitch was empty now, the banners taken down.
Only the moon cast its light in stripes across the floor. Behind her, her trunk sat already packed.
----0000----
The platform at Hogsmeade Station was buzzing with its usual end-of-term chaos.
Trunks clattered, owls hooted from their cages, and Prefects shouted instructions to first years trying to wrestle their bags into position. The scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express hissed as it readied for departure, clouds of white steam curling around students' legs like fog.
Harry stood near the rear of the train, clutching Hedwig's cage in one hand and his trunk handle in the other. Lynne without saying a word, had cast a charm that made it light-weight.
Hermione was already on board, waving from a window. Virgil had disappeared into one of the forward carriages, muttering something about avoiding loud compartments. And Lynne wasn't boarding yet.
He spotted her standing a few steps back from the train, half-lost in the crowd, her butterfly circling around her hair. She wore her coat despite the warmth, the sleeves long enough to conceal her metal arms entirely. Her eyes were fixed on the engine, like she wasn't sure whether it was a train or a threat.
Harry approached her carefully. "You coming?"
She blinked, slowly, and turned to him. Her expression was calm, but wrong. It was almost a fully detached look. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes looked dead.
"I was waiting." she said softly.
"For what?"
"For my mentor to help me."
He frowned. "Isn't he supposed to come pick you up when we arrive?"
"Yes, he will probably be waiting for me when we arrive." she said, and then, after a pause, "Do you need help?"
Harry shook his head and slowly placed his hands on her back, guiding her into the train, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to ask. She climbed on without looking back.
They found a quiet space at the back of the train, near the window, with no other students around. Hermione joined them a few minutes later, bringing cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties she had bartered for.
It should have felt like before, their usual banter, the easy comfort of friends riding home after a long school year. But it didn't.
Harry watched Lynne out of the corner of his eye. She sat with her chin propped on her hand, watching the countryside slide by. Sometimes she smiled, not at anything in particular. Just smiled. Then stopped.
She laughed when Harry joked about the Slytherin team losing every match next year, but then she went quiet and stared at the wall for five straight minutes afterward, completely still.
They talked about what they would do during summer vacations. Harry was not too keen on staying with his relatives. When Hermione asked what she'd be doing over the summer, Lynne answered.
"I'll wait. My mentor will either give me a new Mission or I will follow my current one."
Hermione frowned. "Mission?"
She didn't answer her and just stared at her. Harry tried to smooth it over. "She means staying safe, from what I know." Lynne didn't correct him.
Outside, the landscape rolled past in fields of green and gold, the sun drifting west. Harry leaned his forehead against the window and let the rhythm of the tracks calm his nerves.
"You know, I could visit." she offered suddenly.
Harry blinked. "My aunt and uncle won't like it, I'm not sure."
Lynne didn't seem deterred though. She just nodded. "I will visit anyway. If I'm still functional."
Harry blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I'm losing functionality because I used a lot of myself in the fight." she said. "I'm in need of recalibration to ensure that I'm fully functional."
Hermione set down her book, suddenly pale. "I never wanted to ask because it seemed rude, but are you actually a robot?"
"What is a robot?" Lynne asked.
"Like... a machine, not human."
"I'm not a machine. But you don't have to worry about it, I'll be fine."
Harry leaned forward. "Are you sure?"
"I am." Lynne said. "He told me so."
The silence that followed was dense questions none of them dared to ask. The train rolled on.
When the conductor called for final preparations, Hermione reached out and squeezed Lynne's hand, metal and warm under her palm.
The train had been moving for hours. Outside the windows, the countryside passed in lazy streaks of green and gold. The occasional field blurred into woodland, and beyond that, hills rolled like sleeping giants under a soft sky. Inside the compartment, the heat had settled into a quiet warmth. Harry had stopped tracking time.
Hermione had dozed off with her head against the glass, a book forgotten on her lap. The soft sound of the train on the rails was rhythmic, almost soothing.
Harry kept glancing across the seat at Lynne. She was still. Perfectly still. Elbows resting on the windowsill, gaze unfocused, metal fingers curled slightly in her lap like clockwork between pulses.
Then without warning, she turned to him, her eyes lit up.
"Isn't it lovely?" she said brightly, her voice several degrees higher than usual. "The train, the sky, the smell of sugar from the trolley. I want candy."
Harry stared. She leaned toward him like someone gossiping about a crush.
"I saw a bird fly alongside the train earlier, it was red, with little speckles. I think it winked at me. Do birds wink?"
She laughed. Am actual real laugh, even if it sounded coerced and rough, it felt light and fluttery.
"I…" Harry hesitated. "I don't think so?"
"Hmm!" she said, then clapped her hands, a metal ring clinked against her wrist and she giggled again. "Oh, I hope we have a layover! I want to find a sweets cart and get those purple licorice things. What are they called?"
Harry was frozen. Hermione stirred slightly and mumbled something, then fell back asleep.
Lynne didn't seem to notice. She stood up suddenly and leaned into the corridor, humming a song Harry didn't recognize, she looked almost childish. She was smiling, but the smile didn't fit, it was even more strange coming from her.
"Lynne?" he asked quietly.
She turned toward him, beaming. "Yes?"
"What… are you doing?"
"Just stretching my legs, silly. You have to stretch after sitting for too long or you'll go stiff. I also want candy..."
She paused. Frowned and the smile dropped. She blinked once, twice, and sat down again, slowly, like something rewinding inside her. She stared at her hands. Her metal fingers. Then looked at Harry.
"What's wrong?"
He said nothing at first.
"You… were acting strange." he asked gently.
"Oh. I don't remember what I was just doing." she said. "I got up, did I?"
"You did." Harry said carefully. "You were… different."
Lynne's eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion, but in concentration.
"I've been having more gaps." she said. "Pieces missing and things out of order."
Her hand went to her temple.
Harry leaned forward. "Do you know what it is?"
"I think it's her again." she whispered.
She looked scared. That terrified Harry more than anything.
After a moment, her calm gaze returned. "My mentor surely knows how to handle it. I will be fine." Lynne added.
The moment stretched. Outside, the wind shifted, rustling the curtains ever so slightly. Then her hands curled tightly in her lap again, and she returned to staring out the window.
Will there be a time where I will understand what is going on with her? Harry wondered.
---0000----
The platform at King's Cross was loud and sun-soaked, bustling with parents calling names and trunks wheeling every which way. Steam curled from the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express, drifting like a farewell between the crowd.
Harry stepped off the train, Hedwig's cage in one hand and his schoolbag slung over his shoulder.
Hermione gave him a quick hug, whispering, "Write to me the moment anything happens. I will tell you about my summer when I can."
He nodded, though he wasn't sure he would be able to. Lynne had bolted the moment the train had stopped, she had said goodbye and gave them a nod. She wasn't on the platform right now so he assumed she met her mentor already.
After crossing the hidden barrier, he scanned the crowd, already bracing himself.
He sighed when he saw the barrel shape of Vernon Dursley, red-faced and impatient, checking his watch like Harry had missed an appointment. Behind him, Petunia stood as stiff as ever, squinting disapprovingly into the sea of wizard robes.
He frowned and looked again but she was nowhere to be seen. The Dursleys turned to leave and Harry had to follow. As he was entering the car however he saw her staring at him for just a second before she turned invisible. He blinked, searching for her again.
"Get a move on, boy!"
The ride to Privet Drive was annoying. Vernon grunted at him once, trying to make him feel guilty of having to come fetch him and ruining a family moment while Petunia offered him cold chicken in Tupperware like nothing had happened while Dudley snored like a pig.
Still, Harry said nothing. His thoughts were on Lynne and the strange moment on the station. He wondered where she had gone or why she had crossed to the Muggle side.
The Dursley house was just as he remembered it. Small, too beige, and too quiet. The moment they stepped inside, Vernon launched into his usual speech about rules, no talking about anything freakish, no doing any magic at all, and absolutely no owl noises at night.
Harry didn't hear half of it. Ignoring him was not the best course of action it seemed, Vernon got angry fast. His face turned into a different shade of red. As soon as Vernon closed the front door with a sharp click, he grabbed him by his collar and slammed him against the side of the staircase.
"You will listen to what I say or-"
A knock on the front door interrupted him. They all froze as the knock came again. Then a third time, much louder. Petunia stepped back and Dudley whimpered as the door burst open with a loud crack. The hinges cracked, the frame splintered, and Lynne stepped into the hall like a ghost made of metal and steam.
She wasn't wearing her cloak now. Her arms gleamed in the fluorescent kitchen light, her eyes were fixed on Vernon and his arm grabbing Harry.
"What is it with you freaks and breaking my door?!"
Her face was calm, but all of a sudden it turned into an uncharacteristic scowl and anger shined through, which made Vernon start fuming.
"Step away from Harry." she said, her voice rough and threatening. "Now."
Vernon was now clearly boiling inside. "Who do you think you-"
"Noo." Harry said quickly. "Please don't hurt them!"
But the plea was too late. She moved and Harry could only hope she would restrain herself. In one terrifying blur, she stepped forward and grabbed Vernon's arm, twisting it and freeing Harry. Vernon's scream was short-lived.
As Harry recovered from being manhandled he saw Vernon clutching his stomach, breathing heavily. She then grabbed him by his collar lifting him with both her arms and threw him across the kitchen, knocking the table. He hit the wall with a sound like a dropped bag of flour, wind knocked out of him. Petunia screamed. Dudley bolted into the living room looking for a place to hide.
Lynne stared at Vernon panting, sobbing and wheezing on the floor.
"Try." she said quietly. "Try laying a hand on him again." then her composure relaxed which gave his aunt room to voice her opinion.
"You freaks should stay away, get out of my house!" Petunia's voice came shrill.
Lynne tilted her head, her anger seemingly gone. Her blank face having returned gave no emotions. She blinked as if not understanding the situation completely.
"I'm Harry's friend and I'm here to protect him."
She turned to Harry.
"I'll stay here. Until it's safe. Where is your room?"
Harry was stunned, still in disbelief. "U-upstairs." he finally said.
And just like that, she grabbed his trunk and started climbing the stairs. He quickly regained his senses and while Petunia was trying to help a collapsed Vernon he quickly followed her. His relatives didn't dare to say a word.
"Harry, I think it would be best if your relatives never touch you again, I lost control for a second again."
---0000----
Lynne had explained that his mentor was not able to come for her at the train station. She had hinted at receiving orders to continue her mission until he could give her a safe location. What mission that was, he had no clue. Harry didn't mind, he was actually quite glad she had butted into his summer plans.
The Dursleys didn't speak to him. Not once. Surprisingly they didn't even try to call the police. They didn't even use her name.
After Lynne had joined him for breakfast the next day, even though she didn't need to eat, Vernon had shuffled into the living room, pale and sweat-drenched. He would stay there for the rest of the day scared of even looking at her.
Petunia moved through the house like a ghost, only speaking in thin mutters to herself about "Freak agents" and "unregistered monsters." Dudley refused to leave his room. Harry had never seen the house so quiet.
At one point Vernon had enough of her and tried to threaten her with his gun, but it ended with him on the floor again and the gun broke down and bent into a ball. From there they tried their best to avoid her again, although Harry knew the situation would explode at some point out of desperation.
She dismantled a broken toaster her second morning there, reassembled it better, and left it on the counter without comment. He was reminded that Lynne didn't need sleep as she would often stay in his room at night, sitting on the floor reading or writing in her journal. A few days ago he found her exiting the small cupboard under the stairs.
Harry sat at the desk in Dudley's second bedroom, fingers idly tapping the wood. Hedwig dozed in her cage beside the window, her feathers fluffed against the early chill.
He turned toward the glass and looked up at the sky. No owls. Not one in the past two weeks. Not even from Hermione.
He wasn't worried, not in the panicked way he might have been a year ago. He wasn't locked in his cupboard, he wasn't counting the cracks in the ceiling. This time, he had Lynne. Still, it lingered at the edge of his mind.
He thought for sure Hermione would've written by now. She always had something to say, even if it was a correction or a fact he didn't ask for. Padma might've sent a short note. Even Terry could've scrawled something snarky on the back of a Chocolate Frog card. He didn't know Anthony that much but he said he would write from time to time.
But there had been nothing. Maybe they were still busy with their families. He didn't know exactly how a caring family worked, so maybe they would spend days together catching up on the time they missed. Maybe they were giving him space they themselves wanted, after months of staying all together at the castle. Or maybe, he thought briefly, they didn't know what to say after what happened and the rumours.
Lynne had barely spoken that morning. She was sitting in the corner of the room now, methodically tightening a metal plate in her forearm with a tool she must have built herself. She looked fine, mostly, although at times she would look lost for a few seconds, even while spending time with him.
"Hermione hasn't written." he said, not really expecting a reply. "Neither has anyone from Ravenclaw."
Lynne didn't look up. "They haven't written to me either."
He nodded slowly. "So maybe it's normal for them to wait a bit?."
She tightened something with a soft click. Harry stared at the window again.
"I don't mind it that much with you here to be honest." he added. "It's just, I'm worried they are distancing themselves after what happened."
He didn't say he missed them. He wasn't sure he did, not yet, but he wanted to stay friends with everyone. He was used to something different now. Not having them around, not even exchanging a letter, felt strange.
Lynne finished adjusting the panel and flexed her fingers with a whirred sound.
"Why don't you write them and ask?" she questioned.
"Yeah, I can do that, it will give Hedwig something to do." Now that he could actually take her out of her cage, he could do so.
Harry found her seated at the kitchen table one night, sharpening one of her arm joints with a silver hex-tool that definitely hadn't been packed in her school trunk.
He poured himself a glass of water. "You don't have to stay in the cupboard, you know."
Lynne shrugged. "It's small. I fit."
Harry snorted. He thought she sounded like something a cat would say just now.
"You can use the guest room. I don't mind your company."
She smiled faintly. "My mentor told me everyone needs their privacy from time to time."
Harry smiled a little, then watched her quietly. She was different now, not openly, not constantly, but in the tension in her fingers, the way she tilted her head too far to the side, like a tic or a bad habit.
"You've been… having the same issue you had on the train. More frequently now." he said carefully.
"Yes. I couldn't find my mentor to fix it obviously and I don't know how."
She reached into her coat and pulled out a crumpled small note. She flattened it on the table, stared at the fine print for a few seconds.
"I had a dream earlier... or a memory." she said suddenly. "I was brushing my hair but it was a lot longer than what I usually wear. But I've never had that in my life."
Harry's breath caught. "Do you remember anything else?"
"No. Just… warmth. A sort of smell. Vanilla and… the smell of books. And the feel of a soft bed. There was also the feeling of sunlight."
She looked up at him.
"I don't like the light. It makes me tired." He didn't know what to say to that.
The next morning, she knocked on Harry's door just past dawn. He opened it, still in pajamas. She stood in the hallway, coat buttoned and a small butterfly stuck on her hair.
"We are leaving." she said.
Harry's stomach dropped. "Where?"
"My guardian left instructions to find a house. It's hidden and safe. No one but us should know about it. I'm taking you with me."
"What?" he asked with hesitation.
"We can't stay here. This house is not really safe, the wards present are not hiding us." she said.
He nodded slowly, heart tightening. Lynne looked at him for a long time. Her eyes were clear, calm. Then, for a brief moment, they shimmered, looking conflicted.
Harry hesitated. "What about… what about the Dursleys?"
Lynne tilted her head slightly. "What about them?"
"No one will look for us?" he asked.
"They can try."
He nodded, still uncertain.
"Why are you not packing?"
Deciding that his summer would be terrible if he stayed he went up the stairs silently, he didn't need to pack much as he had been spending time with Lynne instead of doing anything with his school supplies. Fifteen minutes later, they slipped out into the gray-blue of early morning. No one saw them go. The street was empty.
---0000----
Arabella Figg stirred milk into her tea with a slow, deliberate rhythm, the morning paper folded neatly beside her on the counter. Her flat smelled faintly of cat hair and lavender liniment, but today the scent of overcooked cabbage and the soft purring of her kneazle-cross cats filled the air. Two of them purred around her ankles, half-dozing.
She glanced through the lace curtain, out the front window of her small house just across the street from Number Four, Privet Drive.
She set her tea down, a sense of unease creeping in. Arabella had been entrusted by Dumbledore to watch over Harry, a task she took seriously despite her lack of magical abilities. Her status as a Squib had often made her feel inadequate, but this responsibility gave her purpose.
She recalled the times she had to feign disinterest in Harry, ensuring the Dursleys would continue to allow her to babysit him. It pained her to treat him coldly, but it was necessary for his protection.
Now something felt off. It had been a very quiet two weeks. No sign of Petunia bustling with breakfast dishes. No Vernon wrestling with the car door. And no Harry.
Her gaze narrowed. Normally by now, the boy would have been weeding something, or hiding in the garden to avoid Dudley's latest torment. Nothing like that had happened yet, and she was sure they wouldn't punish the boy with more than a week indoors.
She leaned closer to the glass. Then frowned. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the telephone, a battered, rotary thing she rarely used. She paused.
"No." she whispered to herself. "Not yet. It could still be nothing." The cats stilled at her feet.
Across the road, Number Four remained still. Too still. Arabella Figg stared at it a moment longer, then slowly pulled the curtain shut.
In the morning she stepped outside, the morning air crisp against her skin. Crossing the street, she knocked on the Dursleys' door. No answer. She tried the handle; it was locked. Peering through the window, the house appeared empty.
The following day she thought she was being rewarded for her inaction as she saw finally the Dursley happy and outside for a change. Although there was still no sign of Harry.
The day after, Petunia knocked on her door to let her know that she wouldn't have to take care of Harry this summer with a happy smile and relaxed face. As soon as she was gone, she sat down heavily in her armchair, cats weaving around her ankles.
She needed to inform Dumbledore. But what would she say? That Harry had vanished under her watch? The weight of her perceived failure pressed down on her.
She sighed, reaching for the teacup, now cold. "Oh, Harry." she whispered, "Where have you gone?" She finally floo called the Headmaster. Something had gone very wrong, for sure.