Harry Potter and the Missing Memories

Chapter 3

Clauderweb

Harry sat speechless in the armchair in Mrs Figg's lounge, unable to think of anything to say. He looked at the innocuous little old lady sitting in front of him, sipping her tea. She looked so eminently forgettable, so ordinary, that Harry could hardly believe that he had interpreted the situation correctly. Harry now distinctly remembered the conversations in the hospital wing a month ago, and Dumbledore had definitely mentioned the name 'Arabella Figg' as one of the 'old crowd'. And he could only assume that her response to his question meant she understood the significance of it.

He cast his mind back over the many days he had spent at Mrs Figg's house when he was younger and the Dursleys had wanted him out of the way. He tried to think of any occasions that could have made him suspect sooner that she was not the ordinary, but slightly eccentric old lady that everyone took her for, but he found none. The thought that all these years Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been trying to keep Harry from anything 'abnormal' in their eyes, and yet had unwittingly left him in the care of a witch many times astounded him. And not just any old witch, but a friend of Albus Dumbledore's, one of the old crowd. Harry's head was buzzing with so many questions that he just didn't know where to start: Was she really a witch? Why hadn't she told him who she was before? Why did she live as a Muggle? Had she known about Harry all along? Was she still in contact with Dumbledore? The list seemed endless.

It was Arabella Figg who eventually broke the silence. "Harry, my dear," she said in a slow kindly tone, her light blue eyes watching him steadily over the rim of her teacup. "I realise that this must come as a bit of a surprise to you, and I'm sure you have many unanswered questions you will wish to ask me. Albus told me you have an inquiring mind, and he thinks it's time for me to tell you some of what I know. But we have plenty of time for that, don't we? I think our first priority is to get you back to full health."

So she had been speaking to Professor Dumbledore. And she had some answers for him. Harry felt the excitement welling up inside him in anticipation of what she might tell him. "But I'm OK, honestly," he said, eager to find out more.

Arabella Figg's eyes narrowed slightly as she looked him up and down again. "You haven't been sleeping much, have you?" she said in a slightly brusquer tone. "Still getting nightmares about the Third Task, aren't you? Albus told me all about it," she added quickly, as Harry's mouth opened to ask how she knew. Harry nodded reluctantly. "And it doesn't help matters, the way Petunia and Vernon treat you either. Harry, I'm afraid your questions will have to wait until tomorrow. Right now you need to get some sleep, to get some strength back."

"But Mrs Figg, I can't sleep for long because of the nightmares. And anyway, it's only eleven-o'-clock. If I go to sleep now, I'll be awake all night," Harry protested. But even as he spoke, he could feel his eyes smarting from weeks of accumulated tiredness.

"Call me Arabella," she replied, standing up and taking Harry's empty mug from him. "Albus gave me some Dreamless Sleep potion for you. I believe you've had some before?"

"Yes I have," Harry answered, watching her take the cups back into the kitchen. "Mrs... um, Arabella...did Professor Dumbledore arrange for me to stay with you?"

"Well, he sent me straight back here when he heard that your aunt and uncle were going to Rome. It wouldn't have been safe for you to go to your friend Ron's house at the moment. Let's just say we engineered the situation slightly to our advantage," Arabella said, a twinkle in her eye. "Now, I'd better show you to your room. Follow me. Oh, and bring Hedwig with you, she will like it much better upstairs."

Harry carefully picked up the owl's cage and followed her back into the hall and up the shabby staircase. Arabella Figg led him into a room at the back of the house, overlooking the back garden. It was very different to the dark, old-fashioned lounge downstairs. Instead it was a bright, airy room, painted gold, with rich red curtains and carpet. Gryffindor colours, Harry thought to himself. There was a modern pine wardrobe in the corner, a single bed, a chair, and a sink and mirror to the left of the window. A very comfortable room, and certainly much nicer than his room at Privet Drive.

Arabella opened the wardrobe door and pulled out a long brass pole with a large, circular base and which was curved over at the top, ending in a hook. It was adorned with intricate carvings of birds along its whole length.

"You can hang Hedwig's cage on here," she said, putting the stand down near the open window, "then she can come and go as she pleases. I used to have an owl myself many years ago and that's why I still have this stand. But Harry, I must ask you not to send Hedwig out with any letters while you are here. It would compromise my position."

As he hung the cage on the exquisite stand and opened the cage door, Harry made a mental note to ask later what position it would compromise. Now didn't seem quite the right time to ask. Harry fetched his bag and unpacked his things into the empty wardrobe. Meanwhile Arabella bustled off and returned with a glass of water and a small vial of what Harry assumed must be the Dreamless Sleep potion. She asked him to change into his pyjamas, which he retired to the bathroom to do.

"Into bed with you," she said chirpily, as he returned and deposited his clothes on the chair. Harry dutifully climbed into bed between the crisp white sheets. "Now, one drop per hour." She unscrewed the lid on the vial and let 4 drops fall from the dropper into the glass of water. Immediately it hissed, frothed and turned a violent shade of purple. "You'll need to drink it all in one draught, Harry. I'll bring you some food up when you wake, then you'll need to have another dose."

Harry took the glass from Mrs Figg, took a deep breath, and then quickly drained it. It tasted just as sharp as the last time he'd had some at school. Arabella smiled, a warm friendly smile, took the empty glass from Harry's hands and left the room. Harry lay down and pulled up the covers as he felt the waves of drowsiness breaking over him. Yes, tomorrow could be a very interesting day...

*

Harry spent the rest of that day and night either in glorious, dreamless sleep or eating the trays of food that Mrs Figg appeared with shortly after he woke up each time. As soon as he'd eaten, she would hand him another glass of potion, and he'd drift off back to sleep again. He had to admit it was bliss to wake up feeling rested and refreshed for a change. He must have been more run down than he'd realised.

When Harry woke up after his fourth dose of potion and saw the rays of sunshine pouring in through the window, he knew it must be morning again. He sat up and looked around him. Hedwig's cage stood empty, but he noticed a bowl of water and some scraps of food in the bottom of the cage. Mrs Figg - Arabella - must have fed Hedwig while he was asleep.

The bedroom door opened, and Arabella Figg came in, carrying a breakfast tray. There was a large mug of tea and a plate piled high with bacon, eggs, sausages, toast, tomatoes and beans. To think he'd been worried that he might have to live on cabbage for four days!

"Here you go, Harry," she said, placing the tray on his lap. "I think you've had enough sleep for now. When you've finished this, you'd better get washed and dressed. I'll be out in the back garden. Would you mind bringing the tray back down to the kitchen when you're ready?"

Harry said that he would, and Arabella went downstairs again. He tucked into the pile of food enthusiastically. Arabella was a much better cook than he had imagined, and he hadn't had this much food in one go since the end of last term. Just then, Hedwig flew in through the open window and landed on the foot of Harry's bed. Harry picked up a piece of toast from his plate and offered it to her.

"Hello, Hedwig. Are you enjoying this as much as I am?" he asked. She hooted softly in reply, took the proffered toast and flew back into her cage to eat it. Then she settled on her perch and tucked her head under her wing.

When he had eaten every scrap of food on the plate, he got up and ran himself a bath. Lying in the hot, soothing water, his mind turned again to the strangeness of his situation. This must be the nearest thing to a holiday he'd ever had, Harry mused, ducking his head under the water and sending up a spout of water like a whale. Strange how holidays and the wizarding world didn't seem to go together easily in his mind - he couldn't really imagine Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall lying on a beach somewhere. And Snape, well he was so pale it looked like he spent all the holidays down in his dungeon as well as all term time. Even when the Weasleys had gone to Egypt a couple of years ago it had been to visit their son Bill, who worked as a curse-breaker for Gringotts Bank out there. No, it was much easier to think of them all as having a purpose, a task, even in their holidays. Which brought him back to his 'holiday' here and the remarkable Mrs Figg. The way she had spoken yesterday, it sounded as though she had quite an agenda for Harry's visit. He was dying to know what it was that Dumbledore thought she should explain to him.

After Harry had finally got dressed, he carried the breakfast tray carefully down the stairs to the kitchen as he'd promised. From force of habit he cleared the scraps into the bin and washed up the plate, cup and cutlery.

Arabella popped her head round the back door. "Ah, there you are, Harry dear. You needn't have done the washing up. I could have done that later. Come on out into the garden, the weather's beautiful today."

Harry dried his hands and followed her out into the garden. She was right, it really was a lovely day. The sky was a bright blue, with just a few white, fluffy clouds drifting across it, and there was a light breeze that gently ruffled Harry's unruly hair. Arabella was wearing a pair of grubby black slacks, a loose, flowery blouse, a rather unflattering sunhat and the gaudiest gardening gloves Harry had ever seen. The back garden was just as overgrown as the front garden, except for the bit near the patio, where a selection of well-tended tubs of plants surrounding the plastic table and chairs were in full bloom. Judging from the bag of compost, the trowel and the pile of pots in one corner, Arabella had been re-potting some of the plants.

She pointed to the table, which already had two glasses of lemonade on it, and the familiar photo album he'd looked through so often before. "Let's sit down over here, Harry. I've done enough gardening for now, and I'm sure we have plenty to talk about, don't we?" she said, as she slowly walked over and sat down in one of the two chairs. Harry sat in the other, feeling a bit awkward, as if he were just about to sit an exam. "Where shall we start then?"

Harry thought quickly over the hundreds of questions that were now crowding his head again and decided.

"Arabella, when we first went up to my bedroom, you said I shouldn't send Hedwig out with any letters because it would compromise your position. What did you mean by that?"

Arabella's light blue eyes twinkled as she shifted in her chair, as if getting comfortable before a long story. "Quite simply because I need to appear to be a Muggle, even to any wizards or witches who might be looking on. The neighbours might attribute having owls that flew around with bits of paper on their legs to my usual dottiness, but anyone in the magical community would spot what it meant immediately. And that could be dangerous. I need to be incognito."

"But why do you need to be incognito? It's not anything to do with me, is it?" The questions were clamouring to burst out of Harry's mouth now, jostling and vying for attention. Just then Harry noticed Mrs Figg's neighbours coming out of their house into the garden. They waved cheerily to Mrs Figg, and she waved back. "Er, Arabella, do we need to go inside to talk if they're out in the garden?" he asked, motioning to the neighbours with his head.

"Not at all, dear," Arabella replied. "I've taken the liberty of securing the garden with a variation of the Silencing Charm. They cannot hear a thing we are saying. Instead they just hear us talking about mundane things like plants in the garden or the cats. That's why the album is out here. So, yes, why am I incognito..."

Harry listened intently as Arabella explained to him how she had lived in this house as a Muggle since the day after Harry had gone to live in Privet Drive, the day after Voldemort's downfall, on Dumbledore's instructions. (Harry was quite pleased to note that she used Voldemort's name without the slightest trace of apology or apprehension.) As she was Muggle-born herself, she had found no problem in acting and dressing inconspicuously. The house was apparently a Ministry Standard Muggle House Type 3 used for such operations by the Department of Mysteries and designed for the older person, and a few memories had been modified to ensure that her story of returning to her old home from a lengthy time abroad could be substantiated. Her remit was to watch over and protect Harry from any possible Death Eater attack. Apparently this had been what Dumbledore had feared most in the aftermath of Voldemort's downfall, that some of his followers might try a revenge attack on Harry.

"And there were a few attempts, all unsuccessful of course," Arabella remarked, pausing to sip her lemonade, "You've been very well protected, you know, and in more ways than even I know."

Harry pictured the tiny Mrs Figg in her brightly-coloured gardening gloves duelling huge Dark Wizards on the corner of Magnolia Crescent with her trowel and almost laughed at the thought.

"So what form does this protection take?" he asked, pushing the comical image from his mind.

"Well, there are layers of protection, and as I just said, I only know some of them. The biggest bit by far, and the one I am responsible for maintaining, is the Clauderweb..."

"The what?" Harry cut in.

"The Clauderweb. It's a form of exclusion zone around Privet Drive that no witch or wizard can enter unless they have prior authorisation to do so. It stretches for two streets in all directions from Privet Drive. Quite similar to the protections around Hogwarts, actually, though a bit more stringent. Unauthorised wizards cannot apparate inside the zone, nor enter by Floo, air or ground. If anyone who is not authorised tries to enter, they simply get bounced off the web and land some miles away. It's a bit unfair on any unsuspecting wizards who wander in, though. There was one instance, about seven years ago now, when a wizarding couple was driving a Muggle car down to the south coast and drove through Little Whinging. The Ramsdens, poor dears. They hit the web quite hard and were bounced, car and all, into a cabbage field about nine miles away. They never did manage to work out what had happened to them.

Until you went to Hogwarts, only Albus and I were authorised to enter. Since then we've had to authorise a few more to enter, without them knowing of course. Albus compiled a list of your closest friends for me toward the end of your first year. All of the Weasley family can enter, as can Hermione Granger and Rubeus Hagrid."

"There have been a few problems, of course. The Clauderweb is very good at excluding undesirable witches and wizards, but other magical creatures are unaffected. It caused me quite a panic a few years back when a house elf got through to you at Petunia and Vernon's."

"Dobby?" said Harry. "Could he have killed me if the Malfoys had commanded him to?"

"In that case, no," Arabella replied. "House elves can do many things, but killing is not in their repertoire. He could, however, have forced you outside the Clauderweb's protection for Lucius to deal with. I've tightened up security somewhat since then, so I'm glad to say you won't be getting any more visits from Dobby or any other house elf or magical creature at Privet Drive."

"You said there were layers of protection. What happens if I'm further away from Privet Drive, if I'm outside the Clauderweb?" Harry inquired further.

"There is a lesser form of the Clauderweb, a hex deflection device, in place when you are out of the webzone with Petunia and Vernon. It doesn't stop other members of the magical community being nearby, but it does protect you from any spells they may cast. And they are just the two I know about. I do know that Albus has other protections in place as well, in case mine fail. But all of them only work while you are in Petunia and Vernon's care. Once you step outside that, you are vulnerable.

A couple of years ago, when you ran away, you unwittingly left yourself open to attack. Sirius had tried a couple of times to get through the web to see you, but bounced off. At the time we thought he was trying to harm you. When you reached Magnolia Crescent and Sirius was there, the only thing I could think of was to summon the Knight Bus."

"You summoned the Knight Bus?" Harry exclaimed. "I thought I'd done that by accident!"

"Ah, that was what you were supposed to think," Arabella smiled and nodded. "Anyway, I think that's enough for you to take in right now." She stood up and grasped the empty lemonade glasses purposefully.

"Just one more question," said Harry, also standing up. "Why do I deserve all this? What's so important about me?"

Arabella paused. "Now I'm afraid that's something you'll have to ask Albus," she replied finally, carrying the glasses into the kitchen.

Harry turned and gazed thoughtfully out over the tall grass and the overgrown bushes and shrubs. There was so much going on around him that he hadn't been aware of, so many things he hadn't understood until now. And, it seemed, still so much that he wasn't being told. Arabella had explained the mechanics of some of the protection around him, but she had not really explained why it was necessary. In fact, she had purposely avoided that question. It was this that really irked Harry: why him? He could understand the need for some protection at first, until everyone was sure Voldemort had really gone, and he knew he should be grateful for it now that Voldemort had returned. But why had Professor Dumbledore deemed such a high level of protection necessary for all these years in between? Was there really something that important about him? Or was it just a PR exercise to make the Ministry look good, that they'd acted to protect the Boy Who Lived? Except nobody, or very few, knew about it. But one thing was certain: Arabella Figg still knew far more than she was letting on.