A Window Away

Harry Potter sat in the corner, staring at the wall. He had almost made friends with the corner, and if the walls could talk, he imagined that they'd be very tired of his company. His aunt Petunia was rewarding his cousin Dudley for a picture he had drawn. Dudley had in fact stolen all of Harry's crayons to make the picture. Then, he had broken and smashed every crayon in the box in front of Harry's face.

To make matters worse, he had grabbed Harry and told him in an evil whisper, "If you dare tell anyone about this, I'll break you just like this." Dudley picked up a remaining crayon piece, then crushed it under his foot. Dudley smiled as a look of horror crossed Harry's face. Then, he flung Harry against a wall and stomped away.

Harry was cleaning up the crushed crayons when Petunia walked in the room. "How dare you!" She cried, wrenching his fists open. She threw the bits aside. "What have you done, you ungrateful little wretch!" she squealed.

"Aunt Petunia, I can explain!"

"Enough! I've had too many of your excuses. Your Uncle Vernon was right; we've been too soft on you."

"But-"

"No buts!" she interrupted. "You've ruined every single one of the crayons your Aunt Marge bought for you. She's never seen fit to buy crayons for Dudley; it was a very special treat. But nothing is sacred to you! Go to the corner! I swear, boy! If you put one toe out of line, we'll send you away to an ORPHANAGE!!!"

The word still hung in the air. Harry privately imagined that whatever happened here could not possibly be as bad as an orphanage. But without his aunt and uncle, Harry would have nowhere else to go. His parents had been killed when he was barely a year old. Now, eight years later, he was living in a cupboard under the stairs. Every day was terse and heated with Dudley sneering and taunting him. Every night he did hours of chores, barely having time to do any of the homework his teachers assigned him. His teachers all thought he was a hopeless case. Those that thought he might be worth something all looked at him with pity in their eyes, making clucking sounds and shaking their heads. Those that didn't like him at all made his life miserable by giving him multiple detentions.

Harry had come to relish cleaning the chalkboards inside of Miss Havisham's classroom. Three walls in her classroom had chalkboards. She would leave him alone to clean them each to a dust-free slate, then clap out all the erasers. It was the only time of day that he was completely alone, free to think his own thoughts and not be the victim of Dudley's vicious games. He thought of her classroom now; it was the happiest memory he could recall.

Petunia walked over to him as he turned his thoughts inwards. He looked up at her, hoping she would go away. She was just about to open her mouth, when a scuffle at the window drew her attention away. Her pupils dilated; fear replaced the look of fury upon her pinched and unloving face. Harry peered towards the window, wondering what had changed her mood so rapidly. There in the window sat the largest gray tabby cat that Harry had ever seen. It was looking deeply into Petunia's eyes. It shook its head from side to side, and pointed its paw at her, then at Harry. Harry was astonished.

"Aunt Petunia...that cat..."Harry stuttered.

Petunia looked down at Harry, horrorstruck. "What did you say?" she whispered.

"That cat! It just...just pointed at you!"

Petunia continued looking frightened. "What cat?" she asked in a squeaky voice.

Harry looked at the window again, but the cat was gone.

"I swear! There was a cat! In that window! He just pointed at you, then at me!"

"LIAR!!!" yelled Petunia. She grabbed Harry in a fury, pulling him toward her. "First you lie about the crayons! Then you lie about some stupid cat in the window! I came over here so you could apologize to me for lying to me the first time. But now, now..." she took a deep, shaking breath. "Now you can go to your room with no dinner."

Harry was frightened, but he was also angry. He hadn't lied about the crayons, and he hadn't lied about the cat either. His mouth became set in a little straight line, and stomped off to his cupboard. He heard the familiar sounds of locks sliding home in the bolt outside the door as he crumpled himself down, his stomach growling loudly.

* * *

"Miserable lot, those Muggles," Arabella Figg mumbled, stroking her cat. "Why, if Dumbledore could see them treating Harry that way..."

She shook her head slowly, looking at the chest beneath the large doily and porcelain cats in the corner. If only there was something in that chest that she could use... But she turned from it, looking back out the window from her overstuffed, dilapidated old chair.

She went back to reading Gilderoy Lockhart's latest book, wishing again that she could be more like the bold hero Lockhart. If only she had the power to turn the tides of battle, if only she could make a difference, if only she wasn't a failed witch.

She sighed, put down the book and her cat, and went into the kitchen. The house elf Dottie was desperately trying to clean the dishes without breaking them. Arabella shook her head again and looked away. In a way, it was fitting that she and Dottie would be paired together. After all, it would follow that she, the only Squib in the family, would have the only failed house elf. Dottie tried her best, but Arabella knew that Dottie's magic had slowly faded after living in the Muggle world for a few years. As a result, Arabella's house was a shambles. Arabella had never learned to clean house in the Muggle way, always having a loyal house elf or two to do the chores. If only she had been a proper witch, she wouldn't have left the wizarding world and banished herself to a lifetime of sadness. If it hadn't been for Gilderoy's books and the occasional messages from Dumbledore, she probably would have gone completely mad. As it was, she was getting a little batty and she knew it.

Dottie smiled sadly up at Arabella from the small stepstool where she stood, her hands filled with soap suds. Arabella smiled back, and patted her head softly.

* * *

Arthur Weasley was knee-deep in the case of the dog-shaving kennels when he was called into Cornelius Fudge's office. Arthur shook his head; it had been a long time since any pranks against Muggles went so far. His mind was spinning with visions of that poor poodle. It was one thing to have a trim; that had been too far. He wondered if Muggle Relations was having as bad a time with this business as he had been.

His head spun as he pushed the button and the golden gates of the lift. He looked warily upwards, hoping that the Interoffice Owls weren't recently fed. A few hovered dangerously closely, and he wondered if he should go back to grab that Muggle artifact he had just found - what was it called? - oh yes, an umbrella. He just remembered the name when the gates slammed closed and negated the idea.

He waited impatiently for the right floor, narrowly missing an owl dropping as he made his way down the hall to Fudge's office. Fudge's secretary was talking into a Scriptoscry, pressing buttons that magically connected the blinking, beeping crystal ball to the incoming urgent wizard messages. For the hundredth time that day, Arthur wished everyone at the Ministry of Magic had a Scriptoscry. It would remove Interoffice Owls, messages would be received faster, he could let Molly know if he were going to be late, and a thousand other uses crossed his mind. He rolled his eyes; Fudge always had his eye on the Galleon.

The secretary pressed a large green button, and all of the beeping stopped and the blinking lights flashed orange. "Name, please?"

"Arthur Weasley."

"Appointment?"

"None."

"I'm sorry sir; Mr. Fudge cannot be interrupted at the moment."

Arthur sighed. "He sent for me personally."

The secretary eyed Arthur as if she didn't believe him, and then said, "One moment, please."

She pressed a button on the Scriptoscry, and talked into the headpiece.

"There's an Arthur Weasley here to see you, sir. Yes sir. Absolutely sir. Thank you sir. Right away sir."

The secretary pressed the button again, and straightened up in her chair.

"Minister Fudge will see you now sir. Go right in."

"Thank you."

Arthur took a deep breath, then opened the double doors to the office. Fudge was sitting, his eyes looking out on the magical windows into pretend weather. It looked cheery outside, with the sky a bright azure blue. Outside, it was really a rainy and cold London autumn day.

Arthur cleared his throat as he came in.

"Ah! Weasley. Good."

"Yes sir."

"Dumbledore contacted me today, and - "

Arthur's head spun quickly, and he interrupted the Minister without thinking.

"Oh God, not Fred and George. Not their first year! They can't be expelled from Hogwarts already!"

Arthur knew by Fudge's face that he had spoken too soon.

"Fred? George? Hmm...Dumbledore didn't mention anything about them. Oh, but he did say Percy was fitting in quite well after all, whatever that means. But that's not why he contacted me. Here, Weasley. Take a seat."

Arthur sat down reluctantly, hoping he hadn't said too much.

"Weasley, do you remember a while back when I sent you to monitor Harry Potter?"

Arthur remembered. The Boy Who Lived was a legend in his own time. He was the only one who had repelled Lord Voldemort's - You Know Who's - death curse. More remarkable was that Harry Potter had only been an infant at the time. Arthur had been sent by Fudge to watch over Harry when he began showing the first signs of magic. After all, the rest of the people in Harry's household were Muggles, and didn't know the first thing about magic. That Arthur had been chosen to watch over The Harry Potter had been a great honor; he wondered nervously if maybe his job hadn't been completed satisfactorily.

Arthur gulped. "Yes, sir."

"Well, it seems as though his guardians aren't treating him quite as well as Dumbledore had hoped. It's for this reason that he believes that Harry might be at risk for the usage of unintentional magic."

Arthur could understand that; any wizard or witch that felt threatened would accidentally bend reality with a bit of magic to get out of a situation.

"Naturally," continued Fudge, "we can't have that happening. We want you to establish contact with Arabella Figg, a Squib who lives nearby Harry Potter's residence, in order to prevent any unintentional magic. Mrs. Figg will be designated to monitor Harry's magical activities for a long-term basis. But I want you to watch him for a few weeks to determine any patterns for magical misuse. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, but why me? Why not someone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or the Auror Headquarters?"

Fudge knew this question was coming, and was prepared. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, was not about to admit to Arthur Weasley that the reason he was being sent on this mission was because of Dumbledore's advisement.

"For one, you know Muggles and their ways better than anyone on that floor. For another, you already have previously observed Harry Potter in his place of residence. And of course, this is not urgent enough to warrant an Auror. After all, even if he is The Boy Who Lived, he is still just a boy wizard, and you have plenty of wizard boys in your family. I'm sure he won't do anything worse than one of yours has done."

Recalling his slip about Fred and George, Arthur nodded.

"Of course, sir."

* * *

Arabella Figg was standing on her front lawn, lovingly tending the climbing roses that were just beginning to turn brown. She had managed to keep them blooming all summer, but they were now fading away. She wished that she had been as capable in tending magical plants as she had been in tending non-magical plants. All of her tomatoes grew twice the size of her neighbors', her grass was green nine months of the year, her snap peas were sweet and plump, and her dandelion wine was silky and rich. But alas, she had failed in Herbology as miserably as she had failed in Potions. Flying, the only subject she had been halfway decent at, had been stripped from her when she failed her O.W.L.S. Still, the fragrance of bygone roses filled her nostrils as she tended her garden. She was bent over, smelling the dying petals when Arthur Weasley Apparated onto her porch.

Arabella knew that sound. The resounding crack that accompanied apparation filled the air briefly. She whipped her head around to see who had appeared, dropping her gardening shears into the earth as she did so.

"Arabella Figg?" inquired Arthur. He held out a letter.

Mrs. Figg looked nervously around to see if any of the residents of Privet Drive had seen him suddenly appear on her porch. When all she saw was the early morning sprinklers sprinkling and the mailman mailing, she nodded cautiously. She took off her gardening gloves and took the letter.

Mrs. Arabella Doreen Figg -

Please note that Mr. Weasley is at your home by my order. It is my request that you cooperate with him in whatever way necessary.

Yours,

Mr. Cornelius Fudge

Minister of Magic

Nervously, she led him inside. Her house smelled like a wet dirty cat, and Arthur wrinkled his nose at the smell. Arabella pretended not to notice.

"Ah! Gilderoy Lockhart." Arthur spotted the book on Arabella's armchair, and chuckled. "My wife Molly loves his work."

Arabella nodded. "He brings in a little of the old magic feeling to this place."

Arthur's eyes fell on the old chest beneath the doily. He suspected he knew what it was, but he didn't say anything about it.

Arabella cleared her throat. "Dottie!" she called. "Dottie, tea for me and my visitor. Mr. Weasley."

"Please, call me Arthur." Arthur smiled wanly.

"Tea for me and my new friend Arthur." She considered the word 'friend'. It sounded strange to her; it was a long time since she had had a friend.

Dottie emerged from the kitchen after several long moments with a kettle and service for two. Usually, Dottie had to hide in Arabella's bedroom if company came over. But then again, it was usually Muggles that came to Arabella's house. Dottie was pleased to be able to serve Arabella in this small but significant way. It made them both feel like they were part of the wizarding world once more.

Arthur was impressed. "A house elf! Well, how very comforting."

Dottie blushed with pleasure, but said nothing as she served Arabella and Arthur.

"So, what brings you here Arthur?" asked Arabella.

"It's a very delicate matter, Mrs. Figg."

"Please, call me Arabella, and speak as freely as you need."

Arthur smiled a bit, and sipped his tea. "Very well. Arabella, it's regarding Harry Potter. Dumbledore has contacted the Ministry about monitoring him for unintentional magic use."

"Understood," she replied. "He has been mistreated something awful, and I thought about talking to Dumbledore about it myself."

Arthur was glad that not much more need be said. "Yes, that's it exactly. I wasn't sure if you were aware of the situation or not. But I was sent to monitor his activity for a few weeks. It is my understanding that you might be asked to assist in monitoring him. Would that be something you would be willing to do?"

Asking Arabella to do something, anything useful for any witch or wizard would have been more than she would have ever expected. To actually watch over Harry Potter, to be considered capable of handling this job for Dumbledore...it was almost too much for her to bear. She sniffed, and hid the tears that were shining in her eyes. She nodded.

* * *

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. He was torn. He hoped, he really hoped that he was making the right choice. He didn't want to draw too much attention to Harry yet. Harry still had a couple of years until he could be enrolled in Hogwarts. But Petunia had threatened to place Harry in an orphanage. Dumbledore had, of course, sent Petunia a message, no matter how subtle, that her suggestion had not been taken lightly. He only hoped that the cat had been seen, and that Petunia would remember. He also hoped that Fudge would take his recommendation. Fudge hadn't been as amicable as he had been in the past. But if Harry could just stay out of too much trouble, and Petunia could be persuaded into keeping him long enough, the prophecy just might be fulfilled...

* * *

Harry practically washed Mrs. Havisham's chalkboards that day. He had been told that he had to clean every chalkboard twice, and he had taken her literally. He was reviewing the events of the last twelve hours, wondering what had happened.

Harry had actually managed to complete all of his homework the previous night. When Dudley had seen it, he copied all of Harry's papers and told the teachers that Harry had copied off of his work. The teachers had all punished Harry very severely, and he had narrowly missed suspension. Dudley bragged at lunchtime that he had copied all of Harry's work and got him into trouble. When Harry found out it was all Dudley's fault, he had thought it would be just wonderful if everyone knew what a liar Dudley was. As soon as he thought it, the word 'LIAR' appeared on Dudley's forehead. Everyone pointed and laughed at Dudley.

"What's so funny?" he bellowed.

"Your face!" Dudley's friend guffawed. "It says 'LIAR'!!!"

He howled, and everyone redoubled with laughter.

Harry remembered it with relish, remembered seeing Dudley's purple face and the word scrawled on his head. He knew that somehow, he had made it happen.

* * *

Arthur Weasley had Transfigured himself to look like a large orange tomcat. The last time he had been sent to monitor Harry, he had slipped a Watch-o-lot around his neck. That was a magic device that allowed a wizard to keep watch on a child while the wizard was out of the room. The device had allowed Arthur to watch Harry at a distance, and monitor his movements. However, this time he didn't have a Watch-o-lot, and Ministry Funds had been so tight that he couldn't convince Mr. Fudge to buy a new one. So Arthur had been forced to watch Harry himself, keeping a relative distance and watching him in the shape of a cat.

Arthur had noticed that the Dursleys treated poor Harry even worse than they did when he was a little baby. Also, he noticed that he had no friends at school, and his studies were deplorable. Arthur thought Harry was in one of the worst situations that he had ever seen. Arthur shuddered a moment, and wondered what his wife Molly would do if she found out that he was treated this way.

It was on a particularly bad day that Dudley had finally gone too far with Harry. Dudley had stolen Harry's homework, and sabotaged Harry's chances of finally making decent marks. Then, Dudley had gloated about it publicly. It was too much for Harry, and suddenly the word 'LIAR' appeared on Dudley's forehead. It was obviously un-intentional magic, but it was magic nonetheless. Arthur saw it, and knew that he had to act quickly if he wanted to keep this quiet.

* * *

Mrs. Figg sat on her porch, and watched Harry Potter walk in his front door at Number 4, Privet Drive. She wondered idly what horror he had been made to endure today. She knew that Harry was treated badly; everyone on Privet Drive knew that much. Still, when Arthur told her in full detail just how bad his situation was, she was ashamed. She resolved to invite Harry over occasionally. She knew it would arouse the Dursley's suspicions if she was too kind, so she would have to make sure not to let on that she was watching him. After all, Dumbledore wanted it this way.

Arthur suddenly Apparated next to her. He was still Transfigured, so she picked him up and pretended like Arthur was just another one of her cats. It was a good ruse, and they had been using it while Arthur had been staying here. She took him inside, and called to Dottie for tea.

Arthur Transfigured back into his human self, and sat down.

"So, how was it today?" Arabella asked.

"Awful," replied Arthur. He recounted the events of the day, and then added, "But I have a plan."

Arabella squirmed with excitement. "You do?"

"Absolutely. I should have everything in place by this evening, and I imagine that I'll take my leave once it's all set."

"Oh," replied Arabella. She kind of hoped that Arthur would stay a little while longer. It was nice to have a friend again.

"Also, I spoke with Dumbledore," Arthur said. "He asks that you continue to watch over Harry even after I'm gone."

"I would be honored," Arabella said sincerely. Maybe she wasn't so useless after all. Maybe there would be advantages to being only a window away.

"Excellent. He should contact you soon with instructions."

Arabella brightened, and smiled. She looked at over at her Gilderoy Lockhart collection, and thought that maybe she was a bit of a hero herself.

* * *

"Well?" asked Fudge, his fingers drumming nervously on his desk.

"Well, it looks as though Harry will definitely qualify for Hogwarts in a few years. You were quite right to send someone out to monitor him. Harry does have patterns for magical misuse."

"Oh?" asked Fudge anxiously.

"Yes. And at exactly twelve thirteen p.m., this September 9^th, Harry Potter performed a serious display of unintentional magic. Over thirty Muggles were in attendance."

Fudge's eyes bulged out of his head.

"Good Lord!"

Arthur looked grim, and then nodded. "It's true. However, all of those Muggles were found, and a Memory Charm was used on every one of them."

"And what of Harry Potter himself?"

"He also had a Memory Charm placed upon him, and I used a Supression Charm to prevent him from further breaches of magic. According to Dumbledore, it should last until he's ready for admission to Hogwarts."

Fudge relaxed a trifle. "What of this Mrs. Figg?"

Arthur smiled. "She agreed to watch over Harry until he is of age. She will contact Dumbledore directly if she needs any assistance."

"Ah. Good. Then, I can assume this little matter is over?"

Arthur nodded. "For the time being."

Fudge considered, scratching his chin. "Yes. For the time being."