Chapter 14
The Order of the Phoenix was revived about an hour after Voldemort returned. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, and Minerva McGonagall all gathered a at the table. The mood was dark and foreboding. No one spoke, no one dared to believe that it was true.
Albus Dumbledore swept into the room, followed by an angry looking Severus Snape. Sirius was first to speak.
“What is he doing here?” He snapped, breaking the silence.
Dumbledore glared at him.
“Severus will be essential for what must be done.” Dumbledore said.
“But he’s one of them!”
“This discussion is over.” Dumbledore said coldly, as he swept into the room. The residents of the room stared. None had ever seen Dumbledore in such a malevolent mood.
He sat down at the end of the table and turned.
“I have just spoken with Lord Voldemort.” He said. “He has chosen to rebirth himself as Tom Forger, the second child of the Forger family.”
“No!” Minerva said, her face going pale. “Not Anya Forger’s family?”
“The very same.” Dumbledore said. “Although still just a newborn, his powers and intelligence remain completely intact. So much so that it is very much possible he could re-organize the Death Eaters once he gains the ability to talk. Considering his powers, I expect that to be within the next year or even earlier.”
Sirius leaned in.
“The Forgers… we have to warn them!”
“We cannot.” Dumbledore said, his voice heavy. “Her Father, Loid Forger has connections with the government of Westalis. He deals with international espionage in the muggle world. If we were to tell him, all of Westalis, and by extension Ostania, would be made aware of the Wizarding community. Informing him would destroy our culture and way of life.”
“Anya Forger knows.” McGonagall argued.
“Anya is a very capable young girl.” Sirius agreed. “Dumbledore, Anya already knows about the wizarding community… she’s trustworthy, and really cares about Harry.” His eyes narrowed. “Does she know?”
“She does.” Dumbledore said. “The shock has been quite a lot for her.”
Sirius clenched his fists.
“Damn…”
“What will we do, Albus?”
“The child for all intents and purposes is Lord Voldemort.” Dumbledore said, his voice heavy. “It is not unlikely that the child’s soul still survives… but Voldemort seems to have suppressed it. It would be irresponsible of us to allow that family to suffer attempting to raise him like an ordinary child.”
“What are you saying?” McGonagall asked, her voice timid.
“My view.” Dumbledore said. “Is that we need to kill Lord Voldemort.”
…
Yor Forger was exhausted. Little Tom Forger had been quite a handful. He seemed oddly quiet for a baby, but would often refuse to eat anything, and would put up a fight when it was time to change his diapers. She had had more than once to force him to stay still, and was beginning to worry that she would hurt him.
"I need a nap." She thought to herself. And so she decided it was time to call for help.
“Hello, Mrs. Figg? Yes, the baby is doing well… I was wondering if you could come by and watch him for an hour or so? I could really use a nap… thank you so much!”
She hung up the phone with a smile, casting one last longing look at the bed before heading downstairs. Tom had broken his toys again, and she was busy trying to put them back together when Mrs. Figg came up to the door.
“Oh, thank you so much for coming by.” Yor said cheerfully, as she let Mrs. Figg into the house, shutting the door behind her. “Can I… get you anything?”
“No, no thank you.” Mrs. Figg said, a little bit too quickly. “Is the baby doing well?”
“Yes, he’s been fed.” Yor assured her, as she led her into the nursery. Tom had already destroyed his toys again. “I’m just…” She yawned. “So tired…”
“Go get some rest.” Mrs. Figg encouraged. “Take as much time as you need.”
Tom looked up, his eyes narrowed, as Yor thanked the woman and made her way up to her bedroom, yawning uproariously. Mrs. Figg watched her go, and once she was sure that she was out of earshot made her way over to Tom.
"Hello, Tom.” Mrs. Figg said pleasantly, as the baby stared up at her, completely expressionless. “Are you afraid to die?”
She reached into her dress and pulled out a large tommy gun. She raised it, pointing it straight at Tom’s forehead. He stared at her, his eyes narrowed.
Behind her, the click of the hammer of a handgun filled the room.
“Are you?” Anya Forger asked coldly, her gun pointed squarely at Mrs. Figg’s back.
Mrs. Figg turned her head.
“Ah, Anya.” She said, her voice pleasant. “I was warned that you might try to stop me. This baby is not what he seems.”
“He’s exactly what he seems.” Anya said. “He’s my baby brother.”
“In another life he killed hundreds of people. Including the parents of your boyfriend.”
“Yes.” Anya said. “In another life.”
“That does not absolve him of his crimes.” Figg said, her voice on edge. “Think about what you saying, Forger.”
“I have thought about it.” Anya said. “Quite a lot, actually. Get out of my house.”
Mrs. Figg straightened her back, and then she whirled on her.
Anya Forger had known that Arabella Figg was an assassin for years. She was a muggle that abused her status as being beneath the Ministry of Magic’s notice to kill high profile magical targets.
The machine fired off multiple shots as Anya fired her own weapon, diving out of the way. She fired her own weapon, catching Figg in the chest. To her horror, however, the fabric that made up her coat seemed to be enchanted to be impenetrable. The bullet simply bounced off.
She aimed her gun to try and catch Figg in the face, but she had already turned back to the crib. She let out a cry as blast of intense light came from the crib, and she stumbled backwards, flailing widely, the gun firing all over the place.
Anya half expected Yor to come charging back due to the noise, but a quick scan of the house revealed to her that she had already fallen fast asleep. She gritted her teeth and fired, aiming straight for Figg’s head.
She was staggering so wildly that the bullet went right past her, and slammed into the wall behind her. She could hear Bond let out a startled yelp.
“Go wake up Yor!” She shouted, as she fired again. Mrs. Figg, hearing the sound of her voice, whirled the gun around and fired.
Anya read her mind, and could see the general direction she was aiming. She leapt out of the way and slid across the floor, gun raised.
She could hear Bond barking wildly. She wasn’t sure how long it would be until Yor realized that something had gone horribly wrong. She raised the gun, intent on firing it again, but before she could the door blew off its hinges. It flew across the room and slammed into Mrs. Figg, sending her slamming into the wall.
Anya turned, and had to stop herself from screaming. She had rarely, if ever, been in the same room with her Mother whenever she showed her true colors. Gone was the ditzy, airheaded housewife, and in her place was an imposing, glowering woman with evil red eyes.
“Arabella Figg.” Yor said, her voice low and sultry, as Mrs. Figg tried to push the door off of her. “What, may I ask, are you doing with my children?”
Mrs. Figg, perhaps a little bit understandably, was completely taken aback.
“We were… playing.” She said, her voice lame.
“With real weapons?” Yor asked, as she strode into the room. She brought up her heel and brought it down on her wrist. Mrs. Figg let out a scream of pain as her wrist snapped into pieces. Anya had to stop herself from wincing.
She lowered the gun as Mrs. Figg tried vainly to reach for her smaller handgun, but Yor reached down and lifted her off the ground with a single hand by the neck. Mrs. Figg cried out as Yor violently shook her.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t end your life right now.” Yor said, her voice icy and cold.
Mrs. Figg trembled. She raised one hand to point a finger at Tom.
“That child…” She gasped. “Is evil!”
Yor’s grip on her neck tightened.
“You must let me kill him!” Arabella Figg said, her voice desperate. “If you do not… he will grow into a monster!”
Yor narrowed her eyes.
“Monster or not.” She said. “He will always be my son.”
Anya thought it was best to intervene before Yor killed her.
“That’s ridiculous.” She said, looking at Mrs. Figg with awestruck eyes. “My brother isn’t evil!”
Mrs. Figg cast a surprised look down at her. Yor, however, seemed to have not completely registered that Anya was in the room.
“Oh!” She said. The dark shadow over her face began to disappear as she began to assume her everyday persona. “Anya! What happened?”
“She attacked me!” Anya said, her eyes wide and innocent. “We should… call the police!”
She noticed that Mrs. FIgg’s first thoughts were rather smug. As a squib she had access to wizards who could help her escape from muggle custody with little effort. No… the police wouldn’t be able to get to the bottom of this situation…
“I should ask your father what he thinks.” Yor said. “Um. Anya, could you go call him please?” She had not relinquished her iron grip on Mrs. Figg’s neck.
Anya went to the other room, made the phone call, and within fifteen minutes Loid had returned home. He was completely taken aback by what had happened, and once he had gotten the general idea of the story from Yor and Anya he rounded on Mrs. Figg.
“Why?” He asked, his voice cold. “Why would you do this to us? Who put you up to this?”
Mrs. Figg stuck up her nose. “I cannot say.”
Anya, of course, could read her every thought. Before she could find a way of revealing the information to her parents, however, Loid leaned in closer to her.
“We have ways of making you talk.” He said.
“Oh?” Arabella asked. “So you will force the information out of me then?” She sounded extremely confident.
“Yes.” Loid said, his voice low. He turned to Yor.
“Yor, cook for this woman.”
The color in Mrs. Figg’s face drained almost immediately. Being a resident of the neighborhood, she had heard the legends of Yor’s cooking. Anya understood her fear: the mere thought of being her position made her nauseous.
“No.” She said. “You wouldn’t. I-I mean I’m not hungry.”
“Nonsense.” Yor said, as she got to her feet. “I’ll see what I can whip up.”
Loid and Anya stood in silence as Mrs. Figg, pale and sweaty, waited for Yor to finish cooking. Smoke was pouring from the kitchen in five minutes, and a small explosion followed in ten. A noxious, disgusting smell soon followed, and Anya felt herself growing faint.
In twenty minutes Yor came out of the kitchen, holding a plate full of-
“No, stop!” Mrs. Figg shouted, shifting about in her chair wildly. “I… I can’t eat that! That would kill me!”
“Open wide.” Yor said, her voice grim, as Loid forced her mouth open. She raised the spoon and insterted it into Mrs. Figg’s mouth.
She let out a scream of pain and disgust. In moments she was a blubbering mess.
“It was Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore! He made me do it! He wants your son dead! He’s a wizard! The Order of the Phoenix is coming to get you! DON’T MAKE ME EAT ANYMORE, PLEASE!”
The name of the Forger Family’s enemy was now known. The Order of the Phoenix wanted Tom Forger dead.