Harry Potter and the Guardian of Lost Souls

Chapter 2:

The headache that awoke Harry the following morning was tremendous. Indeed, he felt that a pack of blast-ended skrewts had taken up residence in his head trampling along and making any thought very painful.

The feeling was not pleasant.

Harry squinted his eyes at the sunlight streaming through his window as he crawled out of bed. Sunlight should be made illegal, was his first thought of the day, as he went over to look in his trunk mirror. A skinny fifteen-year-old looked back at him, puffy-eyed from the night´s sleep and yet, exhaustion etched into his every feature. He sighed as he reached up a hand and pulled back his bangs already knowing what he would see.

His scar showed, livid, on his forehead, and Harry knew why. He remembered last night´s dream vividly, but he wished he could forget it. Usually his dreams faded away after Harry had woken up, and the only thing Harry wished was that that had been the case with this one. But no. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the writhing of the tortured death eater, the dark wind that had carried him. He could still feel the strange feeling he´d gotten when he´d pressed his hands to it. He could see the mad glint in Voldemort´s eyes right before he muttered to himself... "You lose old man." And he could still see, quite clearly, the bodies of the twenty death eaters that he had slaughtered mercilessly.

Harry opened his eyes. He didn´t want to think about it. But he couldn´t stop himself. He´d lifted one of their hoods to find Cedric staring out at him. That, he was certain, had been only a nightmare and not a vision, but the rest...

Harry sighed once again and began to get dressed.

~*~

"Vernon, I´m so worried! Look at our precious Duddykums! He´s practically wasted away!" Aunt Petunia wailed at Harry´s Uncle Vernon. Harry rolled his eyes at his aunt´s cries as he put the last rind of bacon (which was, needless to say, burnt to a crisp) on his plate, not that he was all that hungry...

His aunt and uncle had been in shock when Dudley had come home for the summer. Their son had lost no less than 22.5 kg during his school year. Evidently, the school nurse had had enough and had put him on an even more severe diet than he´d been on the summer before. Not that Dudley really looked that different. He was still the fattest boy Harry had ever known, just not the fattest boy on Earth...

His relatives had been outraged and had complained to anyone they could. How dare they starve their son! Why, he was skin and bones! That entire episode had actually done Harry good. He´d been able to forget, at least for a few minutes, the events of that year, as his uncle screamed himself hoarse on the telephone and his aunt sobbed while clutching her only son as if he might blow away in the wind. It had even brought a smile to his face.

But now, the whole thing was beginning to get rather old. Harry woke up every morning to his aunt's incessant wailing and his uncle's annoying comments, as they both stuffed Dudley with as much food as he could eat (which was still quite a bit...).

Harry sighed as his cousin went into another of his raging fits about how he was still hungry and how he'd barely managed to survive all year, which sent his mother into a new torrent of tears.

Harry sat and pondered darkly to himself. Dudley was a brat, he knew, but he wondered what Vernon and Petunia would have done had their son gone through the same things Harry had that year. Harry sighed. But even as much as he hated the lot of them, he couldn't help but wish that he'd had a family that had made such a fuss over him. He'd trade all the fame in the world for parents who worried about him and cared. Sure, he had his godfather, Sirius, but it could never compare to the real thing. When he'd seen his parents come out of Voldemort´s wand the year before, it had started a different kind of ache inside him, other than any feelings of guilt or fear. He´d finally truly realized what he'd lost. He'd never known his parents, so he had never really missed them as much as Neville Longbottom did, whose parents had been tortured when he was younger. But after that fateful night, he felt as if a part of him were missing. A space in his heart, which should have been filled with love, was empty and void. And it hurt, it hurt ever so much.

He brought his attention back to the breakfast table when his uncle called his name.

"Harry!"

"What, what?" he started.

His uncle turned to his aunt and grumbled, "You see what I mean. They're all loony, every one of them. Mind´s off wandering, who knows where?" His beefy relative turned back to Harry with disgust in his eyes. "Go get your things, I said. We're going to take Dudley into London for some new clothes because that damn school hasn't got the sense to feed the students like they should!" At this, Vernon pounded a fist on the table, making the dishes clatter. "We will be staying there for a few days and YOU," he pointed a finger at Harry, "are going to stay with Mrs. Figg. And you're going to BEHAVE YOURSELF!" Once again, he slammed his fist on the table, this time causing a glass to topple off and crash onto the floor.

His aunt, uncle and cousin all glared at him as if it was his fault. Harry shook his head and went to retrieve the broom to sweep it up.

~*~

Mrs. Figg lived in a large two story house a couple of blocks away from the Dursleys. But though No. #32 Privet Drive was big, that certainly didn´t mean it was in one piece.

It had been a while since Harry had stayed there and he looked towards this visit with understandable trepidation. Mrs. Figg was not a person that one would call completely sane. In fact, she was a mad old woman with an uncanny fondness for cats. She ate boiled cabbage for dinner every night and walked around in tattered bedroom slippers and a flowered dressing gown that old Archie would have been dying to get his hands on. In addition, she smelled somewhat of old and cheap perfume- all the time...

He stood outside her door, trunk in hand (since he didn´t trust the Dursleys enough to leave anything behind), while Vernon Dursley rang the doorbell for the third time, beginning to get "slightly" annoyed. Finally, Harry heard faint footsteps coming down the hallway and then the door creaked open. Mrs. Figg in all her "splendor" stood before them with a pinched expression on her face. She looked like she´d just swallowed a lemon to be exact.

His uncle gave a sigh of relief and grabbed Harry by the arm. "Here." He said roughly and handed Harry over as if he was nothing more than the morning mail. He then walked away, without a backward glance.

Harry watched him go, torn between relief at being free of his repulsive relatives for a few days and uneasiness at the woman before him.

"Hi." He said in a small and nervous voice as he turned around to face her.

Mrs. Figg looked him up and down appraisingly. She pursed her lips in a way that reminded him remarkably of Professor McGonagall. Harry swallowed. "Well? What are you waiting for? Come in. And wipe your shoes on the mat!"

Harry did so hurriedly and walked inside. The house looked and smelled much like it always did; cats and cabbages. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and hurried down the hall after Mrs. Figg. At the end of the corridor was a flight of stairs which she proceeded to climb and once at the top, turned right down a new hallway until she reached the second door on the left. She hadn't said anything to him as she'd led him through her house but now she turned to him with something that looked strangely like kindness on her face.

"Here´s your room for the next few days. I hope you don´t mind a little bit of clutter." She said, somewhat apologetically.

Harry opened the door apprehensively. "A little bit of clutter" was probably the understatement of the century. There were boxes everywhere, filled with old newspapers, photo albums, articles of clothing and many other odds and ends. In the far corner of the room was a small bed, barely visible under the numerous winter cloaks stacked upon it. The walls were covered in faded beige wallpaper and a dusty desk and bookshelf stood opposite the minute bed. A closet stood in the far corner of the room. Harry walked over to it and opened the door. He jumped back with a cry when books, cookware and many unidentifiable objects came tumbling out.

Harry turned to look at Mrs. Figg. "It´s fine. Not cluttered at all." He lied.

Mrs. Figg smiled appreciatively and left him to straighten up his things.

~*~

For dinner that night, Mrs. Figg had decided to be daring. "I hope you like it." She said as she ladled some boiled cabbage onto Harry´s plate. Harry groaned inwardly.

She sat down opposite him and fixed him with a scrutinous stare. Harry shoveled some cabbage onto his fork and brought it to his mouth. He took a deep breath and-

"Mmmm. It´s very good."

"I´m so glad you like it dear." Mrs. Figg smiled and began on her food.

Harry thought he might choke.

They ate in silence for a few minutes; each immersed in their own thoughts. Harry was once again thinking about his dream the night before. His mind was once again filled with screams and flashes of green and he suddenly lost his appetite. He put his fork down, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. A pair of red eyes glared back at him. He opened his own again quickly and sighed, wondering if he'd ever manage to escape their gaze. He looked up to find Mrs. Figg watching him thoughtfully. She seemed to be fighting some inner battle with herself and then her face cleared as she came to some resolve and asked casually, "So, Harry. Tough year at Hogwarts?"

Harry sighed looking down at his plate, his food barely touched. "Yes. I-" He suddenly realized what she had asked him. He gaped at her. "Wha- What did you say?"

Mrs. Figg laughed whole-heartedly, a sound that seemed to completely unbefit her."I said; How was your year at Hogwarts? That is where you go to school isn´t it?"

Harry´s mouth opened and closed wordlessly a couple of times like a goldfish out of water, before he found his tongue. "Yes, but how do you-"

"Of course, it´s the best school for witchcraft and wizardry there is. I went there myself, you know." Mrs. Figg seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

Harry looked at her in utter consternation and bewilderment.

"Oh, come now boy. Let´s clean up here and I´ll tell you everything you want to know." She chuckled and got up to take her plate to the kitchen.

~*~

"It all began 14 years ago I suppose."

They had finished cleaning up and Harry was now sitting on Mrs. Figg´s threadbare sofa, listening intently to all she was telling him as she sipped at a cup of coffee. Had he not been so focused on what she was saying, he would have thought she looked remarkably funny. It was quite comical to see such a strange loony old woman, bathrobe, haircurlers and all, looking completely serious and so pensive.

"You know of course what happened 14 years ago. Voldemort was defeated by the most unlikely being of all. You." For a moment, Mrs. Figg looked admiringly at Harry and he felt his cheeks go red. She continued. "People were ecstatic. There was celebration and euphoeria throughout the Wizarding world and everything looked like it was going to be alright. But they were wrong." Mrs. Figg sighed and looked ruefully out the window. "I was just as happy as everyone else was, if not more so..." A haunted look came into her eyes. "But then one night, I received an owl from Dumbledore. I still remember it by heart." She closed her eyes and recited:

" Arabella:

I´m sure you are celebrating along with the rest of the world, but I need you to come to Hogwarts at once. It´s an emergency, as you can quite imagine that I would not call you away at such a time otherwise. Your presence is required (very much...)

Thank you.

Your friend and comrade,

Albus Dumbledore. "

Mrs. Figg looked once again at Harry. "I couldn´t imagine what might have been so important as to call me away. My family had been affected so much during the Dark Lord´s rule, and when we heard that he´d been defeated, well, I can´t describe our joy. I-" Mrs. Figg´s eyes glistened over with tears and she stopped speaking for a moment. She took a deep breath and resumed.

"I immediately apparated to Hogsmeade and took a carriage to Hogwarts. Upon finally reaching my destination, I found a house-elf ready to lead me to Dumbledore´s office. I entered somewhat nervously as you can imagine." Harry nodded as he recalled the sensation every time he´d gone to the Headmaster. "Inside sat about twenty people. Mostly friends and people I´d known in school. I imagine you know Remus Lupin?" Harry´s face brightened considerabely upon hearing his old professor´s name mentioned. "Dumbledore came in to the room and began right away. He said he´d called us there because, contrare to what we might think, Voldemort was not completely defeated. I remember how we all sat in shock at his words. The silence that followed rang in my ears. He continued to say that his defeat was temporary and that there was a strong chance that he would return. And when he did, there was no question as to who he would go after first. Under all circumstances, Harry Potter must be protected."

Harry sat listening, open mouthed to all Mrs. Figg was telling him. Dumbledore had always suspected that Voldemort would return. He had known his defeat was temporary. And he had been protecting him from the start.

Harry suddenly felt very strange. People had been looking out for him since he was a baby. He hadn´t been forgotten and abandoned at the Dursleys. He had been placed there for his own protection, and people cared about him... really cared. He felt his throat tighten up as Mrs. Figg continued.

"So the opposition was formed. The Order of the Pheonix. Dumbledore placed all the possible shield wards on the Dursley´s home and in addition, decided someone should always be close by, just in case. I volunteered for the job. I felt indebted to you Harry. I´m muggle born, you see, and you know how the Dark Lord hates muggles..." The haunted look returned. "Hundreds of muggle families were tortured back then. My family was one of them." Mrs. Figg fell silent.

Harry looked at the old woman standing before him with complete understanding. He knew how she felt only too well. He knew so many people who were affected by Voldemort as she had been. And yet he admired her bravery and her capability to pull her life together, and he admired her for watching over some ungrateful kid for fourteen years, with no thanks from him all that time. All those years, he never knew who she really was. All those years he'd dreaded her. Well, now that he knew the truth, he was certainly grateful and meant to tell her so.

"Thank you." He whispered. He found he couldn´t use his voice, and tears welled in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away. He cleared his throat. "Thank you." He repeated more normally.

Mrs. Figg smiled at him genuinely. "Oh Harry." She sighed. "You were worth it."

Harry was stunned by this exclamation. He looked at Mrs. Figg wonderously and was quite touched.

"Oh, look at me, going all teary. Well! Don´t just sit there boy! Come give me a hug!" She cried and Harry did so, though a little embarassed. He wrinkled his nose. She still smelled like cheap and old perfume...

He sat back down on the moth eaten sofa. He had tons of questions.

"Uh, Mrs. Figg?" He asked.

"Oh, call me Arabella, all my friends do."

"Oh, ok. Arabella," the name felt strange on his tongue, "How did you manage all these years without magic?"

"Without magic? You silly boy, I´d go bonkers before I´d spend a day without magic! Do you think I´m mad?"

Harry wondered silently at this statement. He wasn't even quite sure about his own sanity anymore.

"No, I only play the crazy old lady when someone´s around. It´s amazing what an aging potion can do."

Harry´s eyes widened as the full meaning of her words settled in. "You mean, you´re not really-?"

"Old?" Arabella finished for him. "No. I´m not. I was at school with your parents, though I was in Ravenclaw. I´m actually about 30 years younger than I really look, though I won´t tell you just how old..." She winked at him.

Harry chuckled. "That´s incredible! Oh, and I guess you don´t really like cabbage that much, that´s good, because it´s horrible stuff."

Arabella looked hurt. "What? I thought you said you liked it. What´s wrong with cabbage?"

Harry had to clamp his mouth shut to keep it from dropping open. Oops... There was a very awkward silence and then... Arabella burst out laughing.

"Oh! You should see the look on your face. I´m sorry, I couldn´t resist but I do hate cabbage. I only eat the foul stuff when I have to! But really, you should have seen the look on your face!"

Harry sighed out in relief and laughed as well, though more in relief than that he found his own embarrassment funny in any way. This woman reminded him a bit too much of Fred and George when it came to it. He had a feeling she had been a grand practical joker at some time or other in her life. Maybe she still was...

Arabella sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Oh. I haven´t had such a good laugh in ages as you can imagine. I do get quite lonely here. But enough about me. What about you? How has life been getting on? I imagine it´s been rather difficult living with those monstrosities."

Harry looked down at the carpet. It was an ugly shade of light blue and stained in many places. He concentrated on it instead of letting his mind wander to how he was feeling. He didn´t give a damn about the bloody Dursleys. He´d leared to ignore them by now. It was the past year that had been weighing heavily upon his mind. He didn´t want talk about, didn´t want to relive it all. His guilt and fear were bad enough without talking about them and if he ignored them long enough, they almost went away for a little while. He knew it wasn't the best way to deal with his problems, but if he was expected to do everything the hard way, at least this small thing he was going to do the easy way...

"Harry?"

Harry looked up to find a very concerned Arabella lookind across at him from the opposite sofa. He sat in silence, not wanting to get into a discussion about his life. He found himself an unworthy topic. Why even protect him? He was a failure. That was all there was to it. Arabella didn´t say anything. She understood that something was wrong and didn´t press the matter. Harry was grateful.

After five minutes of silence, she got up and went towards the kitchen, taking her chipped coffee cup with her. She paused by Harry and ruffled his hair.

"If you ever feel like talking, I´m here. But I think I´ve got a better idea. I know who you´d probably really like to talk to."

Harry looked up at her puzzled.

Arabella had a strange look on her face, an almost wistful one. "Of course, I´d like to talk to him too, now that I know it´s all right." She paused and sighed. Harry was still nonplussed. "I´ll see what I can do." And with that, she left Harry to his own thoughts.

~*~

Harry awoke the next morning to bright sunshine streaming through the window. Of course, it was only bright outside. The window was rather dirty and the light that filtered through looked grey and unpromising. He was surprised how well he´d slept and even more surprised when he saw that the clock next to his bed read 12:30! The Dursleys had never let him sleep so late. He buried his face back in his pillow, not wanting to get out bed just yet. He was so comfortable! He sighed contentedly, his breath muffled in the pillow. He stretched luxuriously and sat up. He had to wake up, he was hungry. Ravenous, actually, was more like it. He walked over to his trunk, rumaged around and put a shirt on glancing in the mirror and trying unsuccessfully to straighten his hair. He shrugged his shoulders when his attempts went in vain and then proceeded to make his way down to the kitchen, from where the delicious smell of waffles and eggs was coming.

He walked in to find a complete stranger making him breakfast.

He looked around, puzzled and completely non-plussed. Where was Arabella?

The strange woman turned around and smiled at him. Harry´s mouth fell open. He knew that smile...

"Mrs. Figg?!" he asked increduously. The woman before him was about 35 years old. She had dark, straight brown hair, no wrinkles, unless you counted the laugh lines around her eyes, and the most mischievous look about her that Harry had ever seen. Well, not more than Fred and George´s but quite close. All in all, a younger and more beautiful version of Arabella Figg stood before him!

"Good morning to you too." She walked to Harry, sat him down forcefully in a chair and piled fried eggs onto his plate.

For the second time since his visit, Arabella left him gaping like a goldfish.

"You know," she said, as she got syrup and butter out of the refridgerator that she kept despite her magic, "if I got a sickle every time you looked at me like that, I´d be richer than the Weird Sisters!" She laughed and Harry snapped out of his shocked trance.

"Sorry, I just didn´t expect to come down here and find you. I mean, really you, um-" Harry made a lot of hand gestures that meant absolutely nothing, trying to show what he meant causing Arabella to laugh even harder.

"Now I´m richer than Celestina Warbeck too!"

Harry decided it was time to shut up and eat his food.

When Arabella calmed down enough to breath properly she told Harry, "I didn´t take the aging potion today. We´re going out!"

"Oh?" Harry asked curiously. "Where to? Diagon Alley?"

Arabella shook her head. "Nope. It´s a surprise and I´m not telling you."

Harry was intrigued. Where else could he possibly go?

"Now, when you finish, go upstairs, get dressed and pack your things back up. You´ll need your trunk."

Now Harry was really confused. What in Gryffindor´s name did he need his trunk for? Who else could he possibly stay with? And why wasn´t he going to stay here anymore? Harry was miffed.

"Another sickle to me!" Arabella shouted with a chuckle putting 4 waffles on Harry´s plate. "Now eat!" Harry didn´t argue and within 6 ½ minutes his plate was completely clean.

Arabella looked at him approvingly. "That´s more like it. Eating like a healthy boy your age should! You really are much too skinny, you know. Now, go upstairs and I´ll be waiting for you in the living room in ten minutes." And that was that.

Ten minutes later, Harry was dragging his trunk down the stairs, still utterly in the dark as to where he might be going.

Arabella was waiting in the living room, a bag of Floo Powder in her hand.

"Ah! Here you are. Well, let´s go then." She took a pinch of the magical powder and threw it into the flames. The fire turned a bright shade of green and Arabella pulled Harry foreward. He groaned. He hated traveling by floo.

"Now now, none of that. Just hop in and call out `The Full Moon´ and you´ll be there before you know it!"

"The Full Moon? Where´s that?" But Arabella had already pushed him into the fire and he swallowed a lot of hot ash instead. Somehow, he always managed to do that...

"The Full Moon!" He choked out and immediately he was whirling in a fast circle. He remembered to tuck his elbows in and was just about to throw up when he fell forward, right into someone´s outstretched arms.

"Whoa there!" He heard a familiar voice cry out.

It couldn´t be!

"Sirius?! Is that you?!"

He quickly removed his glasses, wiped them on his t-shirt and put them back on. His godfather stood before him, looking better than he had in a long time.

"Harry! Good to see you." Harry was pulled into a bone-crushing hug. Apparently, he wasn´t the only one eating like a healthy growing boy should!

Harry pulled away from Sirius and looked up at him happily. "I still don´t know what I´m doing here, but I´m happy I´m here. Wherever here is that is..." Gee, he was being remarkably articulate this morning.

Sirius laughed and turned Harry around. He was in a very large study filled with bookcases, three sofas and extremely comfortable looking armchairs. And in the doorway stood none other than his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Remus Lupin.

"Harry, welcome to The Full Moon."