Chapter Three
Chapter Three: April 1985
"Here, Petunia!" Vernon announced. He gestured toward the cupboard under their stairs, which, until recently, had been filled with junk. "I cleared it all out."
"I'm impressed with your cleanliness, but I'm not sure why you cleaned it out, Verny," Petunia said slowly.
"Petunia, I have found the solution we've been searching for!" Vernon exclaimed. "We can keep Harry in here!"
Petunia paled. "What do you mean?"
"This can be his new bedroom! After that show of...that...freak show the other day, we can't possibly keep Harry in the room next to Dudley! What if he somehow managed to hurt our boy? We have no way of knowing what that Potter boy is capable of!"
Petunia felt herself begin to tremble. A few days ago, Dudley had taken one of Harry's toys out of his hands. Harry had started crying, and somehow, suddenly, Dudley had floated into the air. Dudley had been airborne for eight minutes before Petunia and Vernon could get Dudley down.
Vernon believed that they had finally worn Harry down, but Petunia knew better.
Because of Lily, Petunia knew enough of magic to know when it wasn't intentional. She knew that Harry, likely angry with his cousin for taking his toy, had accidentally sent Dudley for a time-out in the sky. Petunia also knew that Dudley had floated back down to the floor once she had given Harry his toy back, and he was happy again. It had absolutely nothing to do with Vernon's ability to defeat magic, or whatever her husband had called it.
But, if she told Vernon that, there was a good chance he would send Harry away—to somewhere much, much farther than the cupboard he was currently offering.
"Verny," Petunia said carefully, "this was the first time that has ever happened. I don't think we need to worry too much. I think it'll be fine for Harry to keep living upstairs. We can keep him in his room and feed him there. We don't need to let the boy out when Dudley is down here playing!"
"We can't have him sleep in the room beside Dudley!" Vernon snapped. "What if the magic infects our boy somehow? Rots his brain?"
"I can't have Harry live under the stairs, Vernon!" Petunia countered. "He's my sister's child!"
"He's magical, Petunia!" Vernon snarled. "He's one of them. I allowed you to take him in and raise him under our roof because you told me there was a chance he wouldn't possess these unnatural abilities!"
"I had hoped he wouldn't have them," Petunia whispered. "There are some children that don't have any powers...I think they're called Squibs. There was a chance that Harry could have been normal, like us."
"Do you really expect me to expose Dudley to these powers?" Vernon asked. He sighed and tapped his foot impatiently. "Really, Petunia. That nephew of yours wanted his toy and sent our son into the air. What happens if Potter disobeys? Will he send one of us shooting through a wall?"
"Harry was fussing," Petunia protested feebly. "Children fuss. And he's your nephew, too."
Vernon shook his head. "He's not my blood, Petunia, and thank goodness for that. Do you think I haven't considered that Dudley may be exposed to magic because of the blood you share with your sister?"
Petunia blanched. "I'm not...I'm not sure it works like that, Verny. I don't think magical abilities would just pass me and end up with Duddy."
"Do you know that?" Vernon asked, not unfairly. "Clearly, your sister ended up with magic somehow. We have no idea how that happened, now do we?"
"No, I suppose not." Petunia bit her lip. "What if we asked one of Lily's magical contacts? Maybe they could explain it to us."
"We are not inviting another magical person into this household!" Vernon hissed. "I'm not getting any more exposure to magic than is absolutely necessary. Besides, how would you know who to contact, anyway? Do you still have contact with one of them, Tuney?"
Petunia thought about the letter that she had found with Harry on their doorstep that fateful morning. She had known who Albus Dumbledore was, of course, but he had given her explicit instructions on how to contact him. Petunia had not sent a letter to the man after he had rebuffed her attempts to enter Hogwarts, and she sure as hell didn't intend to recommence contact now.
"No," Petunia responded finally. "No, I don't."
Vernon released a sigh in evident relief. "Good, because the extra exposure would not be good for our boy. I see no other option here, Petunia. Your nephew is going in the cupboard, and that's that!"
"I didn't think you'd be quite so cruel," Petunia whispered. "He's a child."
"I know what he is. I've taken him in, haven't I? I have housed him, fed him, and done what I could to give him a good life. We will still feed him and house him and do what we can to ensure he has a decent upbringing. But, Petunia, we've deluded ourselves into thinking the boy could perhaps be normal. He clearly isn't, and our duty is to Dudley."
"Fine."
Vernon softened ever so slightly. "I'll move his bed and some of his things down here—the clothes and toys that will fit, at any rate. Once that's done, why don't you bring the boy here and explain the situation?"
Petunia nodded and watched silently as Vernon arranged the furniture in the cupboard. The children were in the living room, and she could see them clearly from where she stood. Harry didn't look harmful.
If only Vernon could see that.
"There, it's done," Vernon said eventually, red-faced and panting. "I'll take our boy up to bed. Why don't you help Harry to his new abode?"
"All right," Petunia agreed. She watched as Vernon led Dudley toward her. Harry trailed behind the pair. "Good night, Duddy," she added, as Dudley followed Vernon up the stairs.
"Bedtime?" Harry asked her.
"Yes, but we're staying down here. Follow me."
"Aunt Tuney, where are we going?" Harry asked. He reached for Petunia's hand, but she snatched it away at the last minute.
"Your new bedroom," Petunia said, "is under the stairs." She gestured at the open door, knowing all the while that the little boy would never understand.
Harry's little face scrunched into a frown. "Why?"
"Because we need to protect you and Dudley," Petunia fibbed. "We need you to stay apart."
"But why?"
Harry stared at her with a face that looked so familiar that Petunia found herself murmuring, "Just like Lily." She sighed. "It's just what makes sense, Harry. Now, go in there. Your pyjamas are on your bed. I'll shut the door, and you can stay there until morning."
"Okay," Harry said in a small voice, and he walked into the tiny room. "Is this where I'll live now?"
Petunia swallowed guiltily as she locked eyes with Harry's—Lily's—eyes through the small doorway. "Yes, that's where you'll be living. You can still come out to eat and play, but you'll spend most of your time in here now."
She felt sick as she watched Harry look around the cupboard, but Petunia didn't know what else she could do. If she protested, Vernon would insist on giving the boy up, and Petunia knew she couldn't do that. Harry was her sister's child, for better or worse, and Petunia had loved Lily, even when she hadn't liked her.
Petunia had hoped—beyond reason, she knew—that Harry wouldn't have magic. She had wanted to believe that they could raise him normally without ever revealing his magical heritage. But, then his magic had surfaced, threatening Petunia's relationship with her son and her husband, just as Lily's magic had caused a rift between sisters.
So, as much as she had loved Lily, Petunia certainly didn't enjoy the distance that Harry's magic was creating between herself and her husband.
"Just like Lily," Petunia murmured again, looking at Harry's eyes as she closed the door for the night.
This time, there was a hint of malice in her tone.
Minerva bid Albus goodbye from the Manor and Apparated to Privet Drive.
She and Albus were home for Easter and enjoying a lovely holiday alone. It was wonderful to spend uninterrupted time with Albus, but half of Minerva's heart resided at Privet Drive with Harry. She hadn't seen her grandson since the beginning of March. Minerva never liked to go this long without at least a quick visit, but sometimes, her role at Hogwarts didn't give her much of a say in the matter.
Upon arriving at and sneaking into the house, Minerva looked around what she had come to call Harry's room and immediately frowned. Gone were the already-sparse books and toys. The blankets, cot, and his clothes also seemed to have disappeared.
Instantly, Minerva felt her heart quicken.
She crept back toward Dudley's room in case she had somehow missed Harry. Perhaps he had moved in there? Maybe Dudley and Harry were friends now that they were older. Minerva had a sinking feeling that wasn't true, but she needed to check.
When she didn't see any evidence of Harry's existence in Dudley's room, Minerva slipped through the door. She padded through the house and took care to keep to the shadows.
She could hear a child as she crept down the stairs.
Maybe they just moved Harry downstairs, Minerva thought.
She turned and saw a light emanating from a crack under a door that appeared to lead to a crawl space under the stairs.
"Boom!" a child's voice exclaimed. "Boom, Luke wins!"
Minerva felt her worry transform into rage.
She clawed at the base of the door, no longer caring about how much noise she made.
What could have changed since my last visit? Minerva thought anxiously. She had last visited Harry five weeks ago; at that point, he had still slept in the second room upstairs.
Suddenly, the door opened.
"Kitty!" Harry whispered in awe, dropping his toys. "Quick!"
Minerva let her grandson pick her up and carry her into the strange cupboard under the stairs.
"You found me!" Harry said happily. "I was scared after my bed and I came here. I wanted you to find us!"
Minerva looked around the little cupboard and immediately wanted to scratch the Dursleys' eyes out. The small space fit a bed that looked to be rather too tall for Harry, and the blankets seemed worn and threadbare. He had a few toys and books to keep him occupied, but other than that, Harry's new living quarters appeared to be small, spare, and dusty.
She'd be using magic on the place, that was for damn sure.
Furious, Minerva waited until Harry turned around to transform back into her human self. She was squished for space, certainly, but she placed her palm on Harry's forehead and sent him to sleep.
"There, baby," Minerva murmured. She placed him under the excuse of a comforter on his bed, and looked around the space. She wanted to do something that Petunia and Vernon would never catch on to. Eventually, Minerva settled on comfort spells that she could disguise with Notice-Me-Not charms.
She charmed Harry's blankets to become fuller and warmer, going so far as to include a spell that adjusted the temperature based on the weather. Buckets of toys and books were added to the tiny shelf behind her boy's head. Minerva also rid the space of the cobwebs and various insects that had inhabited it. Finally, she fixed the lightbulb so it, like the blankets, would self-adjust based on the time of day.
"Oh, Harry," Minerva sighed, watching as he slept. Warding the door, she took the rare opportunity to hug Harry whilst in her human form. She allowed herself to cuddle him and breathe in his scent.
Despite being asleep, Harry rolled over and tucked his head under Minerva's chin.
Minerva gave herself a few minutes to cry before withdrawing herself carefully from his grasp.
"Sweet dreams, Harry," Minerva whispered. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. Quietly, she left the small space, closed the door, transformed back into a cat, and slipped out an open window.
She was so infuriated that she didn't bother to leave the Dursley's yard before Apparating back to the Manor.
Upon her arrival, Minerva ran to the house, flung the door open, and screamed, "Albus! Albus, come quickly!"
Albus appeared from the entry to the library. "Minerva, what's wrong?"
"It's Harry!" She looked at him fiercely. "Albus, they quarantined him away! He's living in a cupboard under the stairs!"
Albus looked at her with a pondering look on his face. "That's odd."
"Odd?" Minerva asked incredulously. "You think it's odd? How about abusive, Al? Personally, that's the word that came to mind."
"What kind of cupboard under the stairs is it?"
"Does it matter? It's a bloody cupboard under the stairs!" Minerva yelled. "I wasn't aware there was a variety!"
"For all I know, the Dursleys have a very grand staircase."
"You know very well they do not."
Albus knew the conversation his wife wanted to have, and he sighed. "Minerva, Harry is fine where he is."
"You have to let me take him!" Minerva snarled. She threw her coat on the ground and stormed over to him. "While he was being well cared for, I was willing to let the issue of his guardianship slide. Now? I'm not letting my grandson live under a staircase, for God's sake!"
"Minerva, I told you that it's safer for him to be with the Dursleys than to remain with us."
"Even if he's abused? Tell me, Albus, how will he be prepared to fight against these dark forces you fear if he's malnourished?"
"Is he malnourished?"
Minerva faltered. "He didn't particularly look malnourished, but Albus, if they're willing to sequester him under the goddamned stairs—"
"What, you wouldn't put abuse past Petunia and Vernon?"
"No, Albus," Minerva said coldly. She crossed her arms. "No, I wouldn't put it past them."
"Minerva, I have explained my rationale to you time and time again. I have demonstrated to you that—"
"To be frank, Albus, you have demonstrated nothing. You have told me how you believe him to be in danger. I believe you; I can sense your fear. I understand that Harry is in danger. I understand that Lily's—Athena's—blood has something to do with it. I understand that my blood connection is too small to risk Harry's safety. Albus, apart from the very beginning, when they"—here she swallowed roughly—"died, I have done nothing to try and take Harry back.
"But now? Now, he is clearly at risk, and I cannot in good conscience leave my grandson in that situation. Harry will be safer with us—and you do share Athena's blood, which means the blood protection would work, Al! How can you justify keeping him at the Dursleys? You promised me that, one day, you would give me the full reason for your decision. Given what I have discovered today, I would like that reason now."
Albus squeezed his eyes shut. "You know that intent matters in spells, Minerva. You know that better than most." He eyed her carefully, willing her to remember their failed attempts to sever their soul bond. "If Lily didn't know that she was really Athena—and therefore my daughter—she wouldn't have been able to pass the blood protection to me, even subconsciously."
"So, what you said before was a lie?" Minerva crossed her arms. "When you originally offered for Aberforth to take Harry—was that a lie?"
"Not a lie." Albus shook his head. "It was a potential option, but again, there would have been no way to know if the blood protection extended to him."
"Why would you risk it with Aberforth and not yourself? Not with us?"
"Because I couldn't give you Harry and then take him away from you," Albus replied quietly. His cheeks were wet. "Would it have been easier to have Harry for—I don't know, a month? A year?—and then have to give him to the Dursleys?"
"No," Minerva whispered, "I suppose not. Merlin, I hate this." She was crying, too. "Do you promise me that he is truly safer there?"
"I firmly believe that it is the only way to protect him from Tom."
Minerva's head flew up from where she had been cradling it in her hands. "What the hell do you mean, Tom?"
"I am not completely convinced that we have seen the last of Tom Riddle," Albus revealed quietly. "And, if he returns, Harry will be in more danger than ever before. It is imperative that he has more protection than ever."
Minerva had an intellect to rival that of her husband. "Lily's sacrifice saved him, which protects Harry from Riddle so long as the blood protection is in place. Do I have that right?"
"That's what I believe to be the case, yes."
"I hate him," Minerva wailed, her voice full of anguish. "Merlin, why did he have to choose our family?"
She sunk to the ground, no longer able to hold herself up. Albus scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs and into their bed.
"Al, please tell me this is some horrible, horrible nightmare," Minerva sobbed into his chest. "Please, tell me you're wrong. Please tell me we can say to hell with it and take our baby boy anyway. Please, Al!"
Albus rubbed her head until his robes were soaked through. An idea struck him as she began to sniffle.
"What if I pay for a guardian?" he asked quietly. "Hmmm? Would that improve the situation?"
"What do you mean?" Minerva asked tiredly. "Al, you just said we couldn't take him. You'd rather pay someone to watch your grandson than do it yourself?"
Albus clenched his jaw, but kept his response civil. "I know someone. Someone we—I—could easily pay to live near Harry, and watch over him. That way, if he were malnourished or abused in any way, we would know."
"You don't think of him living under the stairs as being abused, Albus?"
Albus hesitated. "Not inherently, no. For all we know, Minerva, Harry wanted to spend a few nights under the stairs."
"Then why would all his things be moved into that tiny prison?"
"I can't claim to know the reason for that, Minerva."
He could practically feel her eyes roll. "No, you would have to visit once every few years to have an idea of the situation."
Albus had to stop himself from raising his voice, willing himself to stick to the facts. His wife was hurting, and a large part of that hurt was his fault. "The person of whom I'm thinking is also a cat breeder. She would be able to provide a good cover for you. If Harry were to spend a lot of time with her, he could also spend some of that time with you. As a cat, of course, but that is similar to what you do now."
"Who is this cat breeder?"
"Her name is Arabella. She wanted to join the Order whilst Tom was still at large, but I was unable to find a suitable role for her at the time. She would see this as a mission of great importance—as would I."
"Would we tell her who Harry is to us?" Minerva challenged. She finally lifted her head off his chest. "If I'm going to be visiting Harry at her home—as a cat—then we'll likely need to explain my relationship to Harry."
Albus exhaled and stared into Minerva's eyes. After a few moments, he said, "Yes, I suppose we'll have to explain that you're his grandmother. I will simply say that I am helping a friend and the saviour of our world simultaneously."
"Stop saying he's the saviour," Minerva snapped. "He's a child, for the love of Merlin."
"Yes, he is a child. A child who has managed to give this world some peace again. You and I may simply think of him as Harry, but to everyone else, he will always be Harry Potter: the boy who lived."
Minerva sighed. "I suppose you have a point."
Albus smiled sadly. "I would take his notoriety away if I could, but that is one thing that is out of my control."
"How do you know this Arabella?" Minerva asked quietly. She had her suspicions as to who Albus would keep away from war; after all, he had practically stopped Minerva herself from fighting. If this woman turned out to be Albus' ex-lover, she knew she'd scream. She wouldn't stand for her husband's former paramour helping to raise their grandson.
"I know what you're thinking," Albus said, a slight smile on his face, "but Arabella was never my lover. She was Aberforth's."
"Aberforth's?" Minerva repeated, astounded. "I don't think you've ever told me once about anyone your brother was seeing—let alone someone serious!"
Albus shrugged. "Aberforth and Arabella saw each other for six years in total, I believe. It was serious—well, as serious as a relationship can be with someone like Aberforth."
"Al, be kind."
Albus held his hands up in surrender. "From my understanding, it was an on-again, off-again relationship in the early to mid-seventies. My brother wasn't exactly forthcoming with all of the details."
Minerva snorted. "That doesn't surprise me. How did they meet? At Hogwarts, I presume?"
Albus hesitated. "No, Arabella is a Squib."
"Oh," Minerva said, surprised. "Then, if not at school...?"
"Arabella met Aberforth when she went to the Hog's Head one day for a drink. Somehow, she broke through Aberforth's defences, and they struck up a courtship."
"When did Aberforth tell you?" Despite the topic of their conversation, Minerva smiled. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Aberforth didn't tell me anything—Arabella told me. Through Abe, she heard about the Order of the Phoenix, and she wanted to help. As I said, I couldn't think of any way for her to help without putting her in immediate danger."
"Ah." Minerva inwardly chastised herself. "Because she's a Squib."
"Yes. Not," Albus added, "because I care for her romantically. Just to be clear."
Minerva smiled softly at her husband. "I wonder why their relationship ended."
"I highly doubt that that is something Aberforth will ever tell me." Albus looked at his wife with an assessing gaze. "Now, are you sure you are all right with Arabella?"
"It seems as good as I can hope for."
"And you are all right with the fact that she is a Squib?"
"I'm not prejudiced against Squibs, Albus. I hired Argus, didn't I?"
"Yes, but you were rather upset when I sent Hagrid to retrieve Harry from Lily and James' home in Godric's Hollow."
"I was upset at the time because we had no idea what Death Eaters were still out there, and you were willing to leave Harry without any magical protection!" Minerva inhaled deeply. "Now, the situation is obviously different."
"Should I arrange a meeting between you and Arabella? She's a bit odd, mind you, but she would be able to watch over Harry."
Minerva snorted. "Al, if she dated your brother, I would expect nothing less than odd. But yes, please set something up—quickly, if you can. And, if you could be there, I would appreciate that. You can use the excuse of being our intermediary."
Albus and Minerva met Arabella Figg in Albus' sitting room. Albus thought it was more personal than his office, and he wanted to prevent the portraits there from eavesdropping. Besides, Minerva didn't enjoy meeting people for the first time in her own private quarters, and she wanted to be able to focus on Arabella.
Arabella Figg looked kind, even if her attire was too close to Sybill Trelawney's for Minerva's taste.
"So, Albus," Arabella said, "you mentioned a mission?"
"Yes," Albus replied. "It involves Harry Potter, and requires the utmost secrecy."
"Well, I am intrigued." Arabella bit into a Ginger Newt. "What is it I'd need to do?"
"How would you feel about moving, Ms. Figg?" Minerva asked. "To Little Whinging?"
"To Little Whinging?" Arabella asked in disbelief. "Isn't that in Surrey?"
"Yes." Albus nodded. "I know it's a bit different than Edinburgh, but—"
"Albus, it's more than a bit different. It's a completely different culture."
"Forgive me, Arabella, but aren't you from Surrey?" Albus asked. "I thought Aberforth had mentioned that."
Arabella blushed. "Yes, I am from Surrey. That makes me qualified to say that it is, in fact, very different."
"A bad different?" Minerva asked anxiously. "I'm afraid the mission requires you to move there."
"Not necessarily, no." Arabella took another bite of her biscuit. "Why would I be moving to Little Whinging? Is that where Harry Potter is?"
Albus looked at Minerva before nodding. "Yes, that's where Mr. Potter is."
"Does he need protection?" Arabella narrowed her eyes. "You do remember that I'm a Squib, don't you, Albus?"
"Yes, we know," Minerva said quickly. "Albus told me—I hope that's all right. Harry does need protection, but not of the magical sort. You see, he is living there with his maternal aunt. She, along with her husband and son, are Muggles."
"You sent Harry Potter to live with Muggles? Interesting," Arabella mused. "No one will think to look for him there."
"Precisely," Albus said. He placed a comforting hand on Minerva's knee. "We take particular care in the welfare of young Harry."
Minerva swallowed and took a deep breath. "When Albus said this requires secrecy, he was being completely serious. Harry Potter is my grandson. I have had to leave him with his maternal relatives for his safety, but I would like to be involved in his childhood, if I can. Albus informed me that you breed cats. My Animagus form is a cat. I thought—we thought—that if you were to live near Harry, and carry out your work whilst befriending Harry's guardians, then perhaps I could come and visit sometimes. In cat form, of course."
"You would be very well compensated for your work," Albus added.
Minerva suppressed a smile. Most people believed that professors at Hogwarts weren't well paid. Albus and Minerva made extra money from their duties as Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress, but even still, they had more money than one might think. Albus had residuals pouring in from his work with Nicolas Flamel, as well as a generous yearly stipend from the Ministry—a condition of his Order of Merlin, First Class. He also received an allowance for being on the Wizengamot. In conjunction with his very reasonable salary as Headmaster, Albus was not wealthy, but well-off.
Minerva had never asked Albus for money; she had no need of it, not with her own scholarship residuals, salary, and Ross family inheritance. But when she had inquired as to how Albus planned to pay for someone to relocate their entire life, Albus had simply said that he was willing to spend his entire life savings on Arabella if it would ease Minerva's mind about Harry.
"Besides," Albus had said cheekily, "you provide us with a summer home and more than enough money to get by. What do I need my savings for?"
Minerva had rolled her eyes, but she had appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
"Do you think I care that much about money?" Arabella inquired sharply. "Honestly, you sound like your brother. He always thought I would want more than being a barkeep's wife, and that drove us apart."
Albus shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean any—"
"No, no, it's fine," Arabella said, sighing. "I wouldn't want to do this as a charity case, Albus. I wouldn't need extra money. Just enough to help me move and get set up with some cats down there. That's more than enough."
"You're willing to go?" Minerva breathed.
"Of course. It will be an adventure, and I meant what I told Albus when I said I wanted to help the Order. I can think of nothing more important than watching over Harry Potter." Arabella looked sadly at Minerva. "And, Minerva, if Harry is your grandson, and you've sent him to be with his maternal relatives, then I can only presume that James Potter was your child. I never met the Potters, but I am very sorry for your loss. They seemed like very good people."
"Thank you," Minerva choked. She smiled gratefully. "I appreciate that."
"I presume no one knows that you two are related?" Arabella confirmed. "Even Aberforth?"
"Aberforth does not know about my family," Minerva fibbed. "Albus knows about my relationship to Harry because he is my employer and a good friend. Luckily for me, he doesn't spread my secrets to his brother."
"Nor should he." Arabella relaxed against the back of her chair. "So no one knows?"
Minerva exchanged a glance with Albus. "Albus does, clearly. A few of my close friends know. There's one other person I'd like to tell—simply because they have a child Harry's age, and I presume they will end up at Hogwarts together."
"One of the Weasleys?" Arabella guessed. At Minerva's surprised face, Arabella added, "Honestly, Minerva, the Weasleys have more children than anyone else; they have for centuries. It's an educated guess, really."
"I'll keep their identity secret for now," Minerva replied, but she was smiling. "It really was a pleasure to meet you, Arabella. I can't thank you enough for doing this."
"It's no bother. I'm in need of a new adventure. Truth be told, it's far too easy to come up here from Edinburgh and try to talk some sense into Aberforth." She sighed. "If I'm far away, in England, he can come to me for once."
Albus chortled. "Oh, my brother has met his match in you."
"If only he would realize that," Arabella laughed. "Now, please let me know about timelines and the like. Also, give me a list of the things Harry's relatives enjoy. I'll do my best to befriend them and offer to babysit Harry now and again. Once I have some playdates with Harry, I'll send you an owl, Minerva. You can come and hang out with my cats."
"Thank you," Minerva said, and she stood to shake the woman's hand. "You have no idea what this means to me."
"Nor me," Albus added. "Do you need help getting home?"
"Pish, no. I'll just avail myself of your Floo, if I can." Albus nodded, so Arabella scooped a handful of Floo powder. Before she left, she turned back to face the couple.
"Oh, and once I'm settled, do tell Aberforth to pay me a visit," Arabella added. "I think getting him out of Hogsmeade would do him some good. And I know that I would do him a world of good, too."
Once Arabella had vanished in a puff of green smoke, Albus and Minerva shared a smile, and began to laugh.