So Much for No Strings Attached

Chapter 95 Squib and Wand

 

Amelia pulled out a very knobbly wand that Harry instantly recognised as the wand once belonging to Albus Dumbledore. It had after all been pointing at him not that many days ago. Harry was about to open his mouth to say he wanted nothing to do with anything of Albus Dumbledore’s. However, his father was looking at it with interested eyes.

 

‘Thank you, Madam Bones, but I am sure that was not all you came to say.’

 

‘No,’ agreed Bones. ‘Have you ever heard of someone called Arabella Figg?’

 

‘She was my babysitter growing up,’ Harry replied. ‘Why? She wasn’t a witch, was she?’

 

‘A Squib by all accounts,’ Bones said grimly. ‘Her home in Wisteria Walk was bought by one Albus Dumbledore, and she has been receiving annual payments since 1981.’

 

Harry felt conflicting emotions – anger, betrayal, shock. Harry had … well not liked or trusted her, but she had been the kindest person in Privet Drive. Not that that was any sort of competition, but she didn’t seem to believe he was a hoodlum like the rest of the street did and didn’t hurt him like the Dursleys did.

 

There had been many times she had bandaged Harry’s various cuts and bruises or popped his dislocated bones back into place. She had even given him a bit of cake when he was eleven. Harry had thought she was going senile, and she was like him – alone in the world with no one to take care of her when she needed it most.

 

But all this time she had been being paid to spy on him for Dumbledore! It didn’t necessarily surprise him that Dumbledore would do something like that. She had seen what his life was like and did nothing to help!

 

Tom put a hand on Harry’s arm gently pulling Harry out of his thoughts a little. Harry took a calming breath clutching his father’s hand in his. But quickly let go when he realised Bones was watching them.

 

‘Given your upbringing I have to ask did Figg know you were being abused?’ asked Bones.

 

Lucius straightened up grey eyes becoming stormy as he heard the question. Harry’s father’s face wiped clean of all emotion, but Harry was sure he was thinking of every awful thing he could to Mrs Figg if she had known.

 

‘I don’t think I specifically told her,’ Harry admitted. ‘But she did often give me first aid when I was over at hers on the weekends. When I was eight, she even put my arm in a sling and told me not to use it, because she thought I had broken my arm.’