Of Werewolves and Wanderers

Thanks so much to anyone who review my story on ff.net in its early stages. I love you all! And special kudos to Caddie, my beta and Gianna my... well, how would I describe Gianna? In any case, she was the one who told me when it all sounded to stupid to post and to go back and edit. Thanks Gianna. Hey... look what I can do.

 

Chapter 01 - Of Werewolves and Wanderers

 

Mrs. Figg lived at number twelve, Privet Drive. She was a very old woman who lived in a spotless house with her four cats. Mrs. Figg was so old that she had quite forgotten how old she really was. She guessed she was somewhere between the ages of ninety-five and one hundred and five, but she could never be quite sure. For such an old woman, she was remarkably healthy. She had outlived both her son and her daughter-in-law and her only living relation was her granddaughter, Arabella. Arabella's father, Mrs. Figg's son, and Mrs. Figg had never gotten on very well. Mrs. Figg was very practical and had a no-nonsense view on most things. She had never believed in fairy tales or magic, and had scoffed those who did.

Her son, on the other hand, had a very relaxed view on life. It didn't help matters that he was a wizard. When Mrs. Figg first learned of this, she thought it was another of her son's jokes, strangely enough, it was very much the truth. After seven years spent studying at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the finest wizarding school in all of England, Mrs. Figg's son had become a very powerful wizard, and Mrs. Figg had moved to the other side of the country. She never quite forgave her son for being a wizard, even though, as he had tried to explain countless times that he didn't really have a choice.

Now, both her son and his wife were dead, and Arabella was a grownup practicing Wizardry as well. Mrs. Figg hadn't heard from her granddaughter in more than a year, until one evening when a large, tawny owl flew in though the window. Mrs. Figg, who had become, if not accepting, used to this method of delivering messages in the wizarding world, gingerly reached up and grabbed the letter from the beak of the owl, who, mission completed, soared once around the room and settled on the top of a chest of drawers. Slowly, Mrs. Figg opened the envelope and a thick piece of parchment fell to the floor. Reaching down, and unfolding it, she read;

Dear Grandma,

I know we have not really been on speaking terms, and we have not seen each other in many years, but I need to visit that part of the country to make some calls on some old friends. I was wondering if I might be able to stay with you for a week or two? Please send your reply with my owl. I will arrive on Tuesday, August 5th.

Thanks Very Much,

Arabella Figg

Mrs. Figg thought to herself. It would be nice to have some company, and she hadn't seen her granddaughter in a long time, but all the same, what would the neighbors think if Arabella suddenly appeared in the street in her horrible black robes and holding a magic wand? Mrs. Figg thought a few more moments, and, decidedly, turned the parchment over and wrote;

Arabella,

You may stay with me for two weeks, but make sure you arrive in a normal fashion, in decent clothes. I will be expecting you on the 5th.

Mrs. Figg

Mrs. Figg smiled to herself. That seemed to get the point across, and after all, she really did want to see her granddaughter again. She stuffed the parchment back into the envelope and handed it to the owl, who grabbed it in his beak and flew, once again out the window. As she was watching the owl fly out the window, she suddenly remembered something odd she had seen down the street. The same snowy owl, night after night, seemed to fly right out of number Four's window, and would return in the morning. At first Mrs. Figg had assumed that the owl had nested in the rafters of number Four's attic, but then she realized that snowy owls were not even common to this part of the country. Was it possible that number Four held a wizard too? But that couldn't be. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were even more practical that Mrs. Figg and if they had ever willingly taken part in anything strange or mysterious, Mrs. Figg would have eaten her cats. And she doubted that their horrible son Dudley had the sense to practice magic at all. "No," thought Mrs. Figg, "no one at number four could be a wizard. The snowy owl must just have been my imagination."

But Mrs. Figg was wrong, and there was indeed a snowy owl, who's name happened to be Hedwig, who right now was on her way back to Privet drive, ready to deliver a message to her owner, who was indeed a wizard. Mrs. Figg had forgotten that someone else lived at number four as well, and that someone's name was Harry Potter.

Harry Potter was a short, skinny 15-year-old boy, with a scar shaped like a bolt of lightning across his forehead, and at the moment, he was fast asleep. As Hedwig flew in through the window, she clucked distastefully at her sleeping owner, soared over to his bed, and pecked daintily at his nose. Harry woke with a start, his wand in his hand.

"Hedwig!" Harry whispered reproachfully. "It's 3 o'clock in the morning!"

Hedwig cooed gently and dropped a letter on Harry's head and flew out the window again. Harry stared at the retreating owl, and then, bent down to pick up the letter. As he looked at it, he recognized the handwriting of his godfather, Sirius Black. Eagerly, he tore the envelope open, and heard a loud cough. Harry's Uncle had woken up.

Harry heard a thundering down the hall and a moment later, his door burst open. Bright red and mustached, Vernon Dursley stared, horrified, around the room, his beady little eyes stopping on Harry, with a ripped piece of paper in one hand, and a wand in the other.

"Ah ha!" roared Mr. Dursley. "Caught you red-handed! I knew it!" Mr. Dursley was yelling himself hoarse by now.

"I wasn't doing anything!" Harry screamed back.

"Oh don't you lie to me boy," growled Mr. Dursley, fuming. "I know what those wands are for!" A loud noise came from the door and both Harry and Mr. Dursley turned. They had been joined by Mrs. Dursley and Dudley, who was stifling a yawn. Dudley, whose attempted diet from the summer before had apparently failed, filled the entire doorway, not quite able to enter Harry's room, but eager to see the fun none the less.

"What in heaven's name is going on?" a bonny face topped by a pink nightcap came into view over the massive Dudley.

"I caught him red handed! This boy was about to do... About to do... He was holding his wand in his hand and he was about to do magic!" Both Mrs. Dursley and Dudley stared at Mr. Dursley in horror. Even Mr. Dursley seemed surprised at is own daring.

"Dad said the 'M' word!" gapped Dudley, plainly horrified. Mr. Dursley bolted from the room, with Mrs. Dursley and Dudley close behind.

Harry sat down on his bed and sighed. He had lived with the Dursley for 10 horrible years. Then, only 4 years ago, he found out that he was a wizard, and he had escaped to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and since that day, he had only been force to spend his summers at number four Privet Drive. It was only when he had found out that he was a wizard, that he found the truth of why he had a scar on his forehead, and why he was an orphan living with his aunt and uncle. The scar was not, as the Dursleys had pretended for so long, the souvenir of a car crash that had killed his parents, but the mark of an evil curse. For his parents had been killed, not by an accident, but by the most evil wizard in over 100 years. This wizard's name was Voldemort, but so feared was he by the rest of the wizarding community, that he was known only as you-know-who. When Voldemort had finished Harry's mother and father, and tried to place the killing curse on Harry, it failed, and instead, rebounded on the owner. Voldemort, barely alive, had fled.

But Voldemort had not vanished for good and only the year before, had Harry had another chilling encounter with Lord Voldemort himself. Harry had been forced to witness the murder of a fellow student and the rebirth of Voldemort. Only after another miraculous escape, was Harry able to realize that Voldemort's return to power endangered the entire world. With the help of Albus Dumbledore, who was know for being the only person Voldemort ever feared, some other teachers, and some other powerful witches and wizards, Harry began to plan for the future.

Now, back with the Dursleys for the summer, Harry longed for fall when he would be returning to Hogwarts. He missed the dark castle with its moving, talking paintings, and walking coats of armor. He missed the classes and his teachers, and hallways full of ghosts. He missed fire lit rooms in the evening and exciting games of Quidditch, the wizard sport played on flying broomsticks high in the air. But most of all, he missed his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He wished he might escape the horrible Dursleys and stay with Ron, as he had done the summer before, but Dumbledore had told both Harry and Mrs. Weasley that Harry was to stay with the Dursleys this summer, and Harry knew better that to disobey any rules that Dumbledore had set for him, for he trusted Dumbledore more than any other person alive.

Harry, suddenly exhausted, flopped down on his bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow, the letter in his hand forgotten.

* * * * *

Fifty miles away, in a small, tumbledown shack on the edge of a secluded wood, two men sat by the fire. They had obviously been in a heated argument.

"Remus Lupin, I don't care what you say, the boy is safer with me. Harry's aunt and uncle wouldn't give a second thought to the matter if Voldemort came right into their house and carried Harry off. By the way they act, they'd be happy to get rid of him!"

"But Sirius, I thought you understood! Dumbledore placed Harry under a charm that will keep him safe from Voldemort, as long as he is in his aunt and uncle's care. By taking Harry to live with you, no matter how good your intentions may be, you are putting him in even more danger."

"I swear," growled Sirius. "I swear, if those Dursleys do anything to Harry, they'll regret it for the rest of their lives!"

Remus stared at his greatest friend alive, and marveled at how much he had changed since he had escaped from Azkaban, the wizard prison, where he had been locked away for twelve years for a crime he did not commit. His godchild, Harry Potter, brought out a new, paternal side of Sirius that Remus had never seen before in his friend.

"Now don't do anything that will land you back in Azkaban. Remember, you haven't been cleared for that first crime yet," said Remus lightly.

Sirius growled again, and stood up. "At least Arabella is coming. We can always use another Auror around at times like these."

"Yes. It will be good to see Arabella again," Remus smiled for the first time all evening, remembering his childhood friend. "Old Arabella, she would never turn down a dare. Do you remember when..."

"Quiet!" Sirius hissed suddenly.

Both Remus and Sirius turned to face the door, their wands in their hands. There was a tentative knock on the door.

"Who's there?" asked Remus sharply.

"It's me! Come on Remus Lupin, let me in," A cheerful voice came through the door. Remus, grinning, threw open the door and, pulling the stranger inside, said, "Mundungus Fletcher, it's great to see you again!"

"And Sirius Black! Well if it isn't our escaped convict! This old werewolf running you down yet?" Mundungus Fletcher was positively beaming.

"Just stay away from him on the full moon," Sirius grinned back. It was easy to forget that Remus, their light, kind, and easygoing friend was a werewolf.

Remus Lupin waved Mundungus to a chair, and then sat down himself.

"Now, we're only waiting for Arabella, and then we can get some work done."

* * * * *

Arabella Figg was used to traveling by non-magical methods. He job forced her to do it all the time. "But really," she thought to herself, as she climbed onto the train, "Would it do so much harm to apparate into Grandma's house?"

Still, Arabella knew how her grandmother felt about magic, and she didn't want to upset her grandmother on her first meeting with her after 27 years.

"Ticket, please," a tall, lanky, and rather harassed looking young man tapped her on the shoulder, waking her from her thoughts. Hastily, she dug in her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. The man snatched the ticket, examined it, put it in his pouch, and moved on.

Arabella smiled after the poor Muggle, the name wizards had given to all non-magic people, and wondered, as she did so often, how did they survive without magic?

Her thoughts turned to the place she would be going after she reached her grandmother's house. At least she could apparate there. Her friends from school, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black, had called her to join them in preparing for the rise of the dark lord's power. Could it really be true that he had regained his power again? She had spent most of her life fighting him and his death eaters, the name Voldemort's followers had given to themselves, and now, to be thrown back into her job after 12 years...

Arabella sighed inwardly, and decided not to think about it right now. She tried to get comfortable in her hard plastic seat, and suddenly, there was a horrible lurch and the sound of glass shattering.

* * * * *

Harry awoke the next morning, and, remembering the events of the night before, braced himself as he walked down the stairs to breakfast. The Dursleys didn't even notice him. They were all staring at the TV screen, where the Newscaster was reporting the top story of the day;

"And a bit of tragedy to start our morning off," the newscaster had started in a cheery voice. "Early this morning, a train bound for Kings Cross Station from Aberdeen crashed, killing 12 of the passengers, and injuring almost 100 more. So far, experts have found no reason for the train to crash, as everything on board was working properly, and there is no evidence of any obstacle except for a whole lot of glass, which seemed to come from nowhere! Now Jim takes you live to the scene."

The picture changed from the bright newsroom to a dark wooded spot. Medical trucks and helicopters were valiantly trying to care for the injured passengers, but were having trouble due to the floods of newscasters and their crews.

"Well Ted, looks like a pretty hectic scene here. Like you said, there is no evidence of any malfunction on board, and from the looks of it, the train crashed into a glass wall! Take a look at this mess. Now if anyone would like to explain the glass wall in the middle of the woods, please give us a call!" Jim chuckled, and continued, "We'll keep you posted with more information. Now back to you in London."

Mrs. Dursley stared intently at the screen which was now showing lists of those injured in the crash, who were now being flown to the London Hospital.

"Vernon, do we know an Arabella Figg? That name sounds very familiar."

"I don't think so, dear," Mr. Dursley replied.

Harry would have normally suspected that Mrs. Dursley just wanted an excuse to call and get more information, so she would have more to gossip about, but strangely enough, Harry was almost sure he had heard that name somewhere before as well.

"I remember!" Mrs. Durlseys' shrill voice broke into Harry's thoughts. "That must be Mrs. Figg's granddaughter! The one who was coming to visit!" Mrs. Dursley made it her business to poke and pry until she had found out everything possible about her neighbor's private lives.

Harry had heard enough. He knew that was not where he had heard the name before, so he grabbed a piece of bacon and headed back up the stairs to think.

Harry had been doing a lot of thinking this summer. He was constantly being woken up by nightmares of his last encounter with Voldemort. He wished he could talk about it with his godfather Sirius, but he was now staying with Harry's old teacher, Professor Lupin. They would be reaching friends from all over the country to come and help with preparations for hard times ahead. As most of the wizarding world refused to believe that Voldemort had returned to power, they would need all the support they could get. Sirius was probably talking to his old school friends right now.

Suddenly, it hit him. He knew where he had heard the name Arabella Figg before, and it wasn't from old Mrs. Figg down the street. The year before, when Harry was waiting in the infirmary after his near death encounter with Voldemort, Professor Dumbledore was talking to Sirius about who should be immediately notified. Even though he had been half-asleep at the time, he heard Dumbledore's voice as clearly as if he was speaking now.

"Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mungundus Fletcher- the old crowd."

Harry had a sudden remembrance of old Mrs. Figg, her cabbage-smelling living room, her cats, and most of all, her stubborn character, and pitied the poor witch or wizard who had to grow up with her.

"Then again," he thought to himself, "she's much better than the Dursleys."

Just then, Hedwig flew in through the open window. Harry reached up to pat her, when he suddenly remembered that he had not read Sirius' letter from the night before. Thanking Hedwig, who affectionately nipped Harry's ear and flew over to her cage for a nap, Harry placed the new letter on the bed, to read later, and picked up Sirius' letter from the floor where it had dropped the night before.

Dear Harry,

How are you? Are the Dursleys treating you all right? Remember that you can always write to me, and I'll come set them straight. I know you had a pretty rough year last year, but I've made Dumbledore promise no more surprises.

Harry grinned to himself. No surprises at Hogwarts? Sirius must be kidding. Still smiling, Harry turned back to the letter.

I am staying with Remus Lupin, who sends his regards. We will be very busy for the next few months, so I doubt I will be able to see you until September. I'll write you a longer letter soon, but we have work to do. Take care, and don't worry.

Love,

Sirius

Harry wondered if Sirius really knew how worried Harry really was. The rise of the Voldemort put many of his friends in danger. Ron and his brothers and parents, his teachers, Sirius, Lupin, and hundreds more. Witches and wizards all over the country lived in constant fear of his return. Now, during the summer holidays, under the poor protection of the Dursleys, Harry knew he had every right to be just as afraid.

* * * * *

Lucius Malfoy slammed his fist down on the hard oak table in the living room of his manor, winced, and rubbed his hand ruefully. He turned to the fireplace in the stone wall and shouted, "I want her dead, not in a hospital! She's a witch, Goyle, what doesn't kill her outright most likely won't kill her at all."

"But, sir," a floating head in the fireplace replied. "I injured her pretty badly, and twelve muggles died..."

Mr. Malfoy cut him off. "I don't care about muggles!" He shouted again. "And I don't care how badly you hurt her! All you've done is get the attention of all of England." He turned away from the fireplace. Goyle's head, realizing the conversation was over, vanished with a pop. Mr. Malfoy sighed an put his head in his hands. What he wanted done, he would have to do himself. His job was to put Arabella Figg six feet under, and he wasn't going to stop until she was dead. The last meeting of the death eaters had taken place at the Malfoy mansion and the orders had been clear.

"Do not allow the Aurors who believe in the Dark Lord's return to unite."

"Narcissa!"

"Yes, dear?" A voice answered from the kitchen in the next room.

"I'm leaving. I have some business. I don't want anyone to enter this house until I get back. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," Lucius' wife replied icily. "Lucius, you just got home. You need to spend some time with your family!"

"Ha! Family. Don't talk to me about family. The Dark Lord and the death eaters are the only family we need and he won't let you forget it, even if you are my wife." And with that, Lucius storm from the room.

Narcissa busied herself with a complex cheese soufflé dish that no one would be home to eat and turned he back to the door.

"Don't know how you can stand him," Mina, the young ghost maid said, popping out of the wall she had been eavesdropping from. "If it were me, I would have left him ages ago."

"Thanks for the compassion, Mina," Narcissa looked much older than her thirty-seven years.

"Why do you stay? Underneath the cold eyes and blonde hair, there is nothing there!"

"For Draco. I couldn't leave my only child. You know what would happen to the poor boy if I left, he'd be just as bad as his father in no time."

* * * * *

Mrs. Figg was quite an obstinate woman when she wanted to be. She was also obstinate when she had had no sleep the night before and her granddaughter was in critical care.

"I don't care what your bloody rules are! I want to see my granddaughter!" She stormed through the hospital halls scowling at anyone who seemed to be looking happy. She had been pacing, as well as she could with her cane, though the hospital waiting room for nearly three hours and had finally reached the end of her rope.

"I demand that you let me in to see my granddaughter this instant!" She said loudly to the most venerable and youngest looking doctor on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Madam," he stammered, clearly no used to dealing with angry old ladies swinging canes around. "But I'm afraid we can't..."

"You very well can! I have been waiting here for hours and I am not going to wait any longer."

The young doctor opened his mouth to speak again but Mrs. Figg raised her cane menacingly and he seemed to think better of it.

"If I let you in for ten minutes, will you leave?" he asked resignedly.

"Maybe I will," she answered very coldly.

The doctor sighed and said, "Follow me." He led her into a room filled with white. White walls reflected the bright white lights and the room was filled with doctors in white coats. Mrs. Figg found herself wishing she'd brought sunglasses. Then she caught sight of Arabella lying on the bed in the center of the room. The walked over to her granddaughter ignoring the other doctor's stares. One of them seemed about to come over and ask her just what she thought she was doing, but the young man who'd led her in stopped him. The young woman lying in the bed looked just as Mrs. Figg remembered even the last time she had seen her, Arabella had been 12 years old at the time. She was tall with long brown hair and a face lined from smiling. Her eyes were shut, but Mrs. Figg remembered them to be a deep blue mixed with gray, like the sea.

"Arabella," Mrs. Figg spoke quietly to the unmoving figure. Suddenly her granddaughter's eyes snapped open and her face broke into a smile.

"Grandma! I figured you get in."

"What's that supposed to mean? Didn't you parents teach you..." Arabella cut her grandmother off and said, "Grandma, do the doctors have my clothes? My jacket?"

Mrs. Figg turned and moved away from the bed. "She wants her jacket," she said, speaking to what looked like the man in charge. He stared at her strangely for a moment and his eyes flickered back to Arabella in the bed, who remained unmoving except for her eyes. He then walked over to one of the white cabinets and pulled out a neatly folded fleece jacket and handed it to Mrs. Figg. She had a fairly good idea of what her granddaughter would want but instead of searching though Arabella's jacket, she brought it over to her.

"In the inside pocket on the left, Grandma." Mrs. Figg reached into the jacket and pulled out the long skinny wand. Arabella lifted her arm and the look of concentration on her face made it seem a tremendous effort. She took the wand and Mrs. Figg, still holding the jacket, stepped back. There was a blinding flash of light and several of the doctors shouted. When the lights disappeared, Arabella stood, fully dressed and perfectly healthy by the bed. She then whispered a few words and a brilliant stream of light issued from the end of the wand directly at the doctors who jumped as if receiving an electric shock. Their eyes then went vacant and Mrs. Figg and her granddaughter walked side by side out of the hospital without saying a word.

* * * * *

A large black dog ran through the night with a newspaper held fast in his mouth. Branches of bushes and trees reached out but the dog raced on. After he had been running for nearly half an hour, he paused and sniffed the wind, abruptly changed direction and started running again. Finally, he reached the tumbledown shack at the edge of the wood and scratched on the door.

"Yes?" came Remus Lupin's voice from inside. The dog dropped the paper and made a whining sound that Lupin had never heard before from an animal or man. The door opened in an instant and standing on the doorstep was Sirius Black.

"Ah, you're finally back," Lupin said, looking relieved. He suddenly caught the look on Black's face and his heart stopped. "Oh my god," he whispered, "What happened to Arabella?"