Chapter One – Grandmother Figg

Arabella looked at her calendar and shook her head sadly.  In a little less than two weeks, Harry, Ron and Hermione would be returning to Hogwarts.  Remus, too, for that matter, since he would be teaching again.  “Thank heavens for Sirius” she thought, glad that he would be staying on with her.  She was delighted, too, at being included in his plans.  Only last night, Sirius had at last shared with her his plans were for the immediate future.  He was going to re-build Godric’s Hollow.   He and Remus (when he could slip away from Hogwarts) felt equal to magical methods of construction, but were frankly a bit daunted by the prospect of decorating, furnishing, and trimming up the place.  Arabella, on the other hand, was perfectly able to finish the interiors tastefully and in a manner that would have pleased Lily and James. 

She smiled at the memory of the young Potters.  She had loved them both dearly and wondered what they would think of Harry.  Proud, of course – perhaps even amazed, not just at his accomplishments, but at who he had become.   Arabella was amazed herself at how much he had changed in just one summer.    He was taller and for once, hadn’t been deprived of food for the summer.  The combination of extra nutrition and hard training had changed his physique.  No longer was he the lanky, pale, adolescent that had come to Paravel at the beginning of the summer, now he was tall, well-muscled, and apparently permanently tanned from his brief experience as The Firebird of legend.  It wasn’t just his outward appearance that had changed.  He carried himself differently and spoke with more confidence and humor.  Sometimes his eyes appeared to be lit from within – but that was Hermione’s doing.

Hermione was another one who had blossomed over the summer.  Her already fine figure had been much improved by exercise, sun, and the coming of womanhood.  Distinctly feminine curves were cropping up in precisely the right places.  She too, moved differently, as though conscious of her changing body.  Away from Hogwarts, Hermione had been less bookish and much more playful – but that had been Harry’s doing.  Arabella smiled contentedly.  Things were working out nicely.

“Arabella?” said Harry, recalling her from her thoughts, “Could I have a word?”  She smiled and gestured toward a chair.  “Yesterday,” he began, “when Hermione and I were at Godric’s Hollow, Clio appeared briefly and left these” he pulled a dozen or so perfectly matched pearls from his pocket, “on our picnic blanket.”  He passed them to her.  “My word,” she said, “Clio has certainly taken a fancy to you two.”  She rolled the satiny pearls in her hands. “They are exquisite.  What are you going to do with them?” she asked.  “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.  Do you think they could used to make something special for Hermione?”  Arabella nodded enthusiastically, “What did you have in mind?”  “Well,” he said slowly, not a necklace because of the Cadeau Du Mer, but perhaps a bracelet?” he said, hopefully, searching her face for approval, “Something that would remind her of the time we’ve spent here together…”  Arabella was impressed.  “A bracelet – what a marvelous idea…I can visualize it perfectly.  Pearls strung on the same fine gold thread as the Cadeau Du Mer.  She’ll love it.”  Harry was glad Arabella hadn’t laughed.  He confided, “I thought I might give them to her the day we leave, but do you know how I might get them strung?”  “Where else?” she laughed, “Diagon Alley.  There’s marvelous little shop right at the end, just before you reach Knockturn Alley, called ‘Baubles and Bangles’.  They could do it for you.”  She looked at her watch.  Why don’t you and Remus nip and back before lunch.  He needs new robes before he goes back to Hogwarts anyway.  “Thanks, Arabella” he grinned, and set of to find Remus.  

 Harry found Remus and Sirius in the library leaning over an oversized roll of parchment that seemed to be covered with faint blue lines. "Good morning" Harry said, clearly taking them by surprise. Remus turned to face him, discretely screening the document from view. Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"I have to make a quick trip to Diagon Alley this morning. Would either of you care to chaperone?" he asked. "Gladly," said Remus, "I need a few things myself." He looked at his watch. "Meet me on the terrace in five minutes?" "Great," said Harry, leaving them to their secret. As he went back downstairs in search of Hermione, Harry reflected on whatever it was he had interrupted, "What were they up to?" he mused.

He found Hermione on the terrace sunbathing. She was stretched out on a lounge chair, face down, eyes closed. On a table nearby were her sunglasses and tanning oil. Harry slipped quietly behind her and poured a little of the oil into the palm of his hand.   He warmed it slightly between his fingers, and then applied it in slow circles to Hermione’s bare back and shoulders.  She gasped, then exhaled a long sweet sigh.  “Harry…..mmmmm…..that’s wonderful.”  She was melting under his fingers which had moved, seemingly of their own volition, to her legs and calves.  “And how are you this morning my pretty?” he said, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder.  She rolled over to face him.  “You know the answer to that better than anyone, don’t you?” she whispered.  “Put your suit on and join me. We can slip down to the beach before Sirius finds us and starts hammering away again.  Any moment now I expect him to shout, ‘Constant vigilance!’ or something very like it…” she said with half-smile, remembering the faux Professor Moody.

He sighed regretfully.  “There is nothing more tempting than you in a swimsuit, but I’m afraid I can’t.  I have a little errand to run in Diagon Alley, but I’ll be back before lunch.”  She rose, “Give me a minute.  I’ll dress and go with you.” she offered.  “And spoil this scene for me? he said, pretending to be shocked,  “Oh no, absolutely not. For you to so much as stir off of that lounge chair would be a crime.  While I’m in town, I want to be able to think of you here, draped sensuously across that chair waiting for me to come home.”   “All right,” she said, “I’ll be a good girl and stay here.  I won’t even ask any questions,” then added mischievously, “I’m sure I can talk Ron into going with me to the beach,” she picked up the bottle of tanning oil, “and if I need any more of this put on…”  “Then Hopkins can do it for you.” said Harry firmly, taking the bottle from her with a smile.  She burst out laughing.  ...

They were still laughing when Remus appeared on the terrace.  “Ready, Harry?” he asked in greeting.  Harry nodded, then kissed Hermione swiftly.  “Back in a flash” he whispered.  Then he and Remus were gone, having disappeared with the signature “pop” of apparition.  Hermione laughed softly to herself as she caught a glimpse of Ron strolling toward her with a large beach towel and oversized sunglasses.

Harry and Remus reappeared in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron.  Remus took out his wand and tapped the bricks that marked the entrance to Diagon Alley.  They began to move, neatly rearranging themselves to form and entryway.  Harry and Remus stepped through and into Diagon Alley.  “So,” said Remus, “where are you off to?”  “Baubles and Bangles” replied Harry, “all the way at the other end of the Alley.  How about you?”  “Gringotts, Madam Malkins, and then if there’s time, Flourish and Blotts” said Remus.  “Tell you what,” he proposed to Harry, “Let’s meet in Madam Malkins’ in twenty minutes or so.”  Harry nodded and they set off.

Diagon Alley was packed with Hogwarts students buying their school supplies.  Harry saw Lee Jordan and Dean Thomas peering through the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies.  He waved from across the street, but didn’t stop, anxious to get to Baubles and Bangles.  Harry found it easily, and the jeweler inside was quite helpful.  He marveled at the quality of the pearls and asked repeatedly where Harry had gotten them, seeming unsatisfied with Harry’s vague “they were a gift” as an answer.  At last the transaction was complete.  The jeweler thought they would be finished in a few days and promised to send them to Harry at Paravel by secure owl.  Feeling pleased with himself, Harry stepped back into the sunshine of Diagon Alley.

“Harry?” someone had shouted his name.  He looked around and saw an attractive girl waving at him from a few shops away.  It was Cho Chang, a sixth year girl and Seeker for the Ravenclaw House Team.   Normally, crossing paths with Cho meant that Harry’s stomach was liable to lurch slightly.  He had fancied her briefly when he thought Hermione was unreachable.  He had even gone so far as to ask her to the Yule Ball, but she had gone with Cedric Diggory instead. 

She began walking briskly through the sea of shoppers toward him.  He had only seconds to sort out his feelings before she arrived.  Mostly, he decided, he felt a little sorry for her.  She had loved Cedric, and Voldemort had killed him.  That had been a few short months ago.  Probably, at least in some sense, she was still grieving.  At least, that’s what Harry told himself.

She gave him a huge hug then asked with enthusiasm, “How are you, where have you been this summer?”  Her eyes sparkled at him, not in the least like someone who was in mourning.  “I’m fine, just fine.  I’ve been in Cornwall most of the summer.”  “It shows!” she said, “look at that tan, and where are your glasses?”  He had almost forgotten he had ever worn glasses.  “Hermione’s grandmother, Arabella Figg, corrected my vision for me as a sort of birthday present.”  He said.  Was it his imagination or had the flicker of a frown crossed her fact at the mention of Hermione?  “How is Hermione? Spent the whole summer with her nose in a book?” Cho asked.  “No,” said Harry, “not the whole summer.  I managed to get her to put the books away long enough to finally go out with me…”  “And?” she said, eyebrows arched, “how did it go?”  “It’s been, I mean to say it is, wonderful.  We’re both very happy.”  “Funny,” Cho said, “I always thought your red-headed friend, Ron, would end up with her.”  Harry shook his head, but didn’t answer.  At length, she said with much less enthusiasm, “Congratulations then.  Well done.”  “Thank you,” said Harry smoothly.  “I’ll be sure to tell Hermione you said, ‘Hello’.  I hate to do this, but I’ve got to run.  I’m supposed to meeting Professor Lupin right now.”  He turned and walked away.

Cho was left to her own thoughts, the first of which was, “I didn’t actually tell him to tell Hermione ‘Hello’, now did I?”  She felt very let down.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had believed that Harry had feelings for her and that whenever she was ready to begin dating again, he would have been top of the list.  She had taken it for granted that he would be there waiting when they got back to school.  She sniffed loudly.  “Hermione Granger! I mean, really.  She’s nice and of course smart, but not the least bit athletic and well….her hair!”  Cho considered the new Harry she had just seen – taller, tan, more muscular.  He was definitely out of “Miss Granger’s” league now. 

A significant revelation swept over Cho.  At that precise moment, she realized that she was reconciled to Cedric’s death, comfortable with his memory, and ready to date again.   “Maybe we’ll give Miss Granger a run for her money…” she thought to herself and began laying plans for what promised to be an interesting year.

Harry and Remus arrived at Madam Malkins’ at about the same time.  Remus sighed and said, “C’mon, let’s bite the bullet and get this over with…”  “Get what over with?” Harry asked, suspicious.   Remus gave him a twisted half smile. “How does that line go?  Arabella is always quoting it to me. Ah, yes, I remember,” he said, and then recited, “I shall meet you outside the railway station, and you shall know me by the cut of my clothes and the smell of my cologne”.  Harry looked blank.  Remus laughed, “The cut of my clothes, Harry.  Arabella says that now that I’m respectable again, I need to lose the tatty old robes I used to wear at Hogwarts and get something a bit smarter.”  Harry relaxed noticeably.

“Not so fast, young man,” Remus warned. “Arabella’s also tired of seeing you go around in Dudley’s cast offs.  I’ve been given strict instructions to outfit us both in dress and casual wear for the upcoming year.”  Harry protested, “But we’re supposed to be back for lunch!”  “You will be,” said and authoritative female voice belonging to none other than Madam Malkin herself.  “I’ve just received an owl from Arabella and I know exactly what you need.  I intend to turn both of you into men of fashion.”

Harry winced.  She might as well have said she intended to turn both of them into toads.  She put both hands on her hips and eyed them beadily.  “It won’t take long if you cooperate…” she growled.   They had been outmanned and outmaneuvered.  There was nothing to do, but give up and put themselves in Madam Malkins’ capable hands.   She was mercifully quick and in about forty-five minutes, they were back out on the street, their arms loaded with parcels. 

Harry’s various bundles were stacked so high that he was having difficulty seeing where he was going.  So much so, that he bumped squarely into someone who had paused to look in a shop window.  Parcels went everywhere.  Harry dived wildly trying to keep them from falling, but in the end, lost his balance and ended up in a heap among a nest of brown packages tied neatly with twine.  “Clumsy idiot!” growled the wizard that Harry had bumped, who stooped to gather his own packages.   Harry recognized the wizard’s silver-tipped walking stick immediately.  It belonged to Lucius Malfoy.  When the figure straightened, his hood fell away, revealing the wizard’s face.  It was indeed, the sneering face of Lucius Malfoy.  Just behind him, with an equally unpleasant expression, was Harry’s long-time enemy, Draco.   But Harry could hardly focus on Draco for staring at Lucius Malfoy’s face.  He was so changed!  There were dark circles under his eyes and his normally smooth hair was unkempt and balding in places.  At his collar, Harry could just make out a series of scratch marks.  If there had been any doubt, it was now removed.  Lucius Malfoy had become a werewolf.

Mr. Malfoy flushed slightly at the sight of Harry.  “Well if it isn’t Mr. Potter.  Tell, me, have you been enjoying a touching re-union with your pathetic godfather, Sirius Black?”  Harry said nothing, but eyed both Malfoys fiercely.  Remus cleared his throat and lowered his own packages.    “You!” hissed Mr. Malfoy, instantly enraged.  He lowered his voice, “You did this to me,” he gestured to his scars and his face, “I know it!”  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Remus answered in his mildest manner, helping Harry to his feet.  Mr. Malfoy was beginning to lose control, “You know perfectly well what I’m talking about…you bit me you foul creature…you werewolf!”  People were beginning to stare. 

Harry said evenly, “You must be mistaken, Mr. Malfoy.  Everyone knows Professor Lupin is no longer a werewolf.  It’s been in all the papers.  Surely you read Rita Skeeter.”   Lucius Malfoy was becoming quite deranged and pointed a shaking finger at Remus.  “You did this!”  Harry took a step toward Mr. Malfoy and said in a voice that was deadly calm, “As you once said to me, Mr. Malfoy - prove it.”  Harry and Remus began to walk past them, anxious to get away from the crowd that was forming.  “You’ll pay for this Lupin,” Malfoy called at them, “Mark my words.  I’ll make you regret the day you were born!”  Harry walked past him and straight to Draco, who he bumped hard with his shoulder saying menacingly as he passed, “And I’d better not catch you anywhere near Hermione Granger, or I’ll make YOU regret it.” 

The memory of Draco’s attempt to “soil” Hermione earlier that summer was suddenly fresh in Harry’s mind.  “This year,” Harry vowed to himself, “Draco gets away with nothing.” 

Harry and Remus flung themselves and their parcels at a table in the Leaky Cauldron.  They had just enough time for a butterbeer before returning to Paravel for lunch.  “Some morning, huh” Harry said with a frown.  “Well, it’s over with anyway.” said Remus, unconcerned.  “So you’re not worried about anything Mr. Malfoy might do?” Harry asked.   “Not exactly” Remus mused.  “I’ll tell Dumbledore about his little encounter, but beyond that, there’s not much to do except stay alert.”  Harry raised his bottle of butterbeer in a toast, “Constant vigilance!” he laughed.

Twenty minutes later, they were behind the Leaky Cauldron again, with their parcels carefully balanced for the trip home.  Harry and Remus touched down lightly on the terrace at Paravel to find Hermione precisely where they had left her.   Ron had joined her and had managed in less than two hours to turn his normally pale and freckly skin to the bright red of a lobster.  “It wouldn’t be so bad,” he said, exasperated, “but hard-hearted Hermione refused to put sunscreen on me.”  “I told you,” she said with a wink at Harry, “Hopkins would have been more than happy to…” but Ron waved a hand, not letting her finish. 

Ron and Hermione followed Harry upstairs to his room.  While he was putting away all his packages, he filled them in on his encounter with the Malfoys.  Ron was furious.  “I hope he does try something!  I hope he tries something while Remus is at Hogwarts right under Dumbledore’s nose.  We’re bound to catch him, then it’s off to Azkaban for Malfoy, Sr., and with any luck, Draco could go with him.”  “Ron,” Hermione said, exasperated, “Lucius Malfoy is a powerful wizard with a lot of political influence.  There’s no telling what he could do to Remus.”  “Nothing we can’t handle!”  Ron was still full of bravado from his encounter with Voldemort and the Death Eaters.  “I don’t WANT to handle anything! I’d like a break from handling things.” said Hermione.  “I just want to go back to school with nothing to deal with except studying for our O.W.L’s, and keeping up my duties as a prefect.”  She changed the subject abruptly. 

“Did you see anyone else from school, Harry?” she asked.  “Yeah, I saw Lee Jordan and Dean Thomas, let’s see, who else? Oh yeah, Cho Chang.” he tried to say it lightly and casually.  A small spasm crossed Hermione’s face.  “She said to tell you ‘hello’.”  Hermione was unmoved.  Harry plunged recklessly on.  “She asked about you and I told her we were dating.  She offered us her congratulations.”  “And I’ll bet they were heartfelt, too” thought Hermione to herself.  The gong sounded for lunch.  “Saved by the bell…” Harry breathed. 

Over the luncheon meal, dark clouds gathered ominously on the horizon. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The outdoor training Sirius had planned for the afternoon would have to be abandoned. Harry, Ron, and Hermione wandered to the sitting room, looking through the French doors at the wind that now tossed the tops of the old oaks in the park. They fell into comfortable chairs and, not unnaturally, their conversation turned to the upcoming school year. Ron was committed to trying out for the Gryffindor house quidditch team. There hadn’t been a team last year because of the tri-wizard tournament and now much of the team’s past leadership had graduated left Hogwarts. Oliver Wood had graduated two years ago, followed shortly by Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson. This left Ron’s older brothers, Fred and George, who would be in their seventh year and Katie Bell, also in her seventh year, and of course, Harry.

“So, we’ll need two more chasers and a keeper,” Harry said. “What position were you thinking about?” he asked Ron. “Keeper, definitely,” Ron said firmly. “Wonder who might fill the vacant chaser postions…” Harry mused. Privately, he thought Hermione would be excellent, but she would hear nothing of it. She was determined that they shouldn’t go around joined at the hip, but that each should have at least some interests of their own. “Besides,” she insisted, “I’d rather be able to keep and eye on you and Ron during matches. You’re such targets out there! I’ll stick to my usual role as bodyguard, thank you very much.”

“Let’s see, chasers…” Ron began, ‘Well there’s Tim Darcy – he’ll be in his fourth year, and I hear he’s top notch. And then there’s Emily Dashwood, she’ll be a third year, I think. She’s got a terrific reputation, but I’ve never seen her fly.” Harry hadn’t either. Harry added, “What about Buffy Bennett? I hear she has a Whiplash 360.” “Yeah,” said Ron, “but didn’t someone say she was only interested in playing as a beater?”

Eventually they decided that it might be necessary to form a reserve team, and fell into what Hermione feared might become and endless discussion of tactics and training. She rose suddenly, “I think I’ll just dash off a letter to my mom. I promised I’d write this summer and I haven’t sent her a good long letter in ages.” Harry grabbed one of her hands and kissed it as she walked past. He thought to her, “Mind if I come up in a bit and join you?” she sent him a sultry look and thought, “What do you think?” She strolled from the room.

Ron and Harry returned to their plans for the house Quidditch team. Ron was saying that Fred and George were the obvious choices for co-captains since they were the only 7^th years on the team. Harry was finding it hard to keep his mind on the game, so to speak. In spite of his love of everything quidditch, he found his thoughts turning frequently to the second floor, where Hermione sat composing a letter to her mother.

Hermione was struggling with her letter. So much had happened since she last wrote that she hardly knew where to begin. “I mean,” she thought to herself, “you can’t exactly say – Dear Mom, found out I’m a sorceress, defeated a dark wizard, learned to turn myself into a falcon, set a convicted murderer free, broke the curse of the werewolf, slept with Harry and oh yes, I’ve been made a prefect…”. It was just not the sort of think you sent a Muggle parent.

At length she decided to focus on their training, Harry’s birthday party, and the fact that Sirius had been set free. She mentioned the fact that she had been made a prefect in her post script. Hermione re-read the letter. It was fine, nothing too alarming and just chatty enough to keep her mother happy. Glad to have it finished, Hermione switched on Harry’s CD player (he had left it in her room the night before) and began the process of folding and addressing the thick parchment.

Downstairs in the sitting room, Harry noticed that Arabella’s large owl had flapped up to the French doors. He opened the doors for the bedraggled bird. It sailed in with a blast of wind and rain. Harry dove for the bird and Ron slammed the doors shut. Harry righted the owl and set it on a table. The owl, now its usual dignified self, held out a leg for Harry to remove a letter addressed to Arabella. “I’d better take this to her”, Harry began. “No problem,” said Ron, “I’m just going to make some notes about players for next year…”

Harry found Arabella in the small library. “This just came for you,” he said, presenting her with the letter. She looked up from her writing desk with a smile and an “Ah ha, I’ve been expecting this.” Harry turned to leave, but she stopped him. “No wait a moment,” she said, not looking at him, but pointing to a chair. She opened the envelope and scanned it quickly. “Good.” She said. “What’s good?” asked Harry. “I’ve asked Hermione’s parents to come for the weekend and they’ve accepted. I’m afraid my daughter has been feeling a little left out. You see, she didn’t really expect Hermione to spend the whole summer with me. I thought it would be a good idea to let them have a little time together before you all set off for school again.”

“I see,” said Harry, who liked the Grangers and wanted to get to know them better. “Does Hermione know you asked them?” Arabella shook her head. “I didn’t want to say anything until they had accepted.” “Is it to be a surprise then?” he asked. “No,” said Arabella, “run and tell her if you like.” Harry kissed her on the cheek. “This will mean a lot to Hermione, I think she’s wanted to share a great deal with her parents, but just couldn’t figure out how to work it into letters.”

“Good,” said Arabella, “off you go then.”

Harry walked briskly to the stairs and climbed them two at a time. He made his way down the carpeted corridor to Hermione’s room. The door was ajar. He could hear music playing. “The letter writing session must be over…” he thought to himself. Unexpectedly, Hermione’s figure whirled by the gap in the open door. Curious, Harry peered into the room, then grinned. She was dancing. She had the music up loud and had let her hair down. Hermione was completely lost in the song, mouthing the words and watching herself in the mirror.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. It was one of their special songs. He dashed across to his room, grabbed the Invisibility cloak, then stole back across the hall and into Hermione’s room. This was one show he didn’t intend to miss. He eased quietly into a chair just as the song was ending. Harry concentrated hard on the CD player. Instead of playing the next selection, it skipped to another of