Chapter Text
We all know the story: Harry Potter has no idea he’s a wizard until his eleventh birthday.
But what if Mrs Figg were more than just a babysitter? What if she acted on the abuse she knew was going on? What if she decided that Harry wouldn’t go to Hogwarts without first understanding where he came from? Suppose she still had her old study parchments from her tutoring days, from before she learnt she’d never be getting a letter of her own. What if she decided that Lily and James deserved to be remembered properly?
What if?
This version of the story begins when Harry is five. Mrs Figg sees him do magic for the first time while she’s looking after him, and immediately reassures the frightened boy that he isn’t a freak and he’s not in trouble. Instead, she tells him he’s a strong and special lad. She warns him not to tell his family, explaining they’d only be jealous. She would have told him not to tell his friends either, but he says he hasn’t got any — his cousin hurts anyone who tries to be nice to him.
Mrs Figg then arranges for Harry to be taken out of school so she can tutor him at home. The Dursleys are quick to agree, since his teachers have already started asking questions about his “odd” behaviour. She offers to collect Harry each morning at eight — the same time Petunia Dursley heads off to drop the kids at school — and to keep him until bedtime so he’s not underfoot. She also promises to feed him three meals a day at no cost.
The Dursleys are thrilled. They can keep collecting government money for his care without spending a penny of it on him. They can keep dressing him in Dudley’s old clothes, lock him in the cupboard under the stairs, and not have to feed him at their own table. Mrs Figg even asks if Harry can help her on weekends, which means he’ll be out of their way even more. The Dursleys are quite content: they’ve got their benefits, they don’t have to deal with “freakishness,” and they hardly have to see the boy at all.
Mrs Figg’s next step is to contact her family’s healer, Mrs Warrington. The older Mrs Warrington tells her that her daughter has taken over the practice now, but she’s sure the girl can visit Wisteria Walk that weekend. While she waits, Arabella goes through her old photographs from the first Order of the Phoenix meeting — pictures of Harry’s parents and their friends — to see who might still be alive. She knows Sirius Black is locked up, Frank and Alice Longbottom are at St Mungo’s, Peter Pettigrew and the Potters are dead, and the Prewett brothers are gone. Alastor Moody would terrify the poor boy, and both Minerva McGonagall and Hagrid would be sure to run straight to Dumbledore.
Out of everyone in the photos, the only one she trusts not to go behind her back is Remus Lupin — who’s already been asking about Harry, and who might actually be able to tell him something about his parents. She writes to him, inviting him to visit for his annual check-in — the one where she used to make sure he was still looking after himself.
Although she’s a Squib, Mrs Figg still has solid ties in the wizarding world — ties Dumbledore tends to forget. She reaches out to one of her old contacts, now a Wizengamot juror, to ask about the Potters’ will. In all the years she’s lived on Wisteria Walk, no one from the wizarding world has ever checked in on young Harry — and that can’t be right. Surely the most famous orphan in magical Britain would have had some kind of official visit?
Who was named as his guardian or tutor? Did James and Lily mean for him to go to a Muggle school, or had they preferred private education?
If it were possible, Arabella would take Harry away from the Dursleys altogether — but if they’re the only blood family he’s got, she won’t cut that tie. She just wants to keep him safe. If that means paying for a private healer to see him each month until he starts at Hogwarts, so be it. If it means hiring a tutor, she’ll make sure the lessons reflect what his parents would have wanted. And if it means staying nearby so she can keep an eye on him, then she’s willing to do that too.
She remembers something her mother once told her: that children are the future and must be protected at all costs. As a well-known Kneazle breeder, Arabella sees it as her duty to make sure Harry grows up knowing who he is and where he came from — just as she does when she lets one of her kittens go to a new home. To that end, she’s ready to take on the financial burden herself, without hesitation. The money’s just sitting in her Gringotts vault otherwise.
For now, she starts small — teaching him handwriting with a pencil. Once her letters are done, she plans to explain the magical world to him, and let him know that he won’t be going back to school. Instead, he’ll spend his days at her house, where he can learn safely.
She also gets in touch with the local council to ask what subjects are right for his age, and to set up regular assessments so she can track his progress. That way, if he’s got any special educational needs, she can get him the support he deserves.
And more than anything, she hopes that by mixing magical and non-magical lessons, Harry might carry on with his Muggle education in his spare time at Hogwarts — instead of vanishing from that world entirely at eleven, like so many Muggle-raised children do.
Once she’s got everything in place, she plans to take him to the local bookshop and buy stationery just for him: notebooks and workbooks for every subject, to help him build good learning habits before he gets to Hogwarts. She also plans to pick up some educational toys like the ones found in schools — so he can play and learn in peace, with no risk of Dudley nicking or smashing his things.
Finally, she buys a small set of uniforms — white polo shirts, plain black trousers, smart shoes, and a grey jumper like the ones worn at St Gregory’s — so that he won’t stand out when they go out among other schoolchildren. She doesn’t get too much yet — she’s expecting the healer might predict a growth spurt. And if not, she can always buy more later, replacing them each summer like any ordinary child.