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Chapter 71 - Ch. 71

Suddenly it made sense.

James Potter she clearly recalled from her class, usually in the company of Sirius Black. They were always causing a disruption of some sort - sword fighting with haddocks, changing the color of their hair, growing antlers or tails - while his eventual wife, Lily Evans, was best known for rolling her eyes, telling them to be quiet, and hanging around the thin, pale little male friend of hers Minerva had always referred to as Lily's Shadow. Lily's sallow-skinned, hooked-nose, greasy-haired Slytherin shadow.

That's where Minerva knew him from. It was Severus Snape. How could she have missed it? Then again, a Slytherin being friends of any sort with one of her Gryffindors was just the latest in a long line of unthinkable things to be true tonight. "House differences" on the question of Blood Purity must have pulled them apart at some point, it usually did.

"You made me think he was some pampered little prince," Severus continued. "But he's the kind of prince no boy should have to be," he finished curiously.

"And I've always said that you saw only what you wished to see," Albus said in return, sounding as if he were speaking to a distraught child.

'Apparently we all did,' Minerva thought as she went down the spiral staircase. There was nothing more to say to Albus, nothing that'd make a difference anyway. The die had been cast. With goblins involved there'd be nothing they could do short of all-out war that'd stop them from tearing Hogwarts down brick-by-brick. She only wished Albus hadn't done anything else so colossally stupid.

It was only when she heard the stone gargoyle behind her move again Minerva realized she had spent the last several moments staring down at Hagrid's hut. Merlin alone knew what the man was feeling tonight. He treasured his friendship with Harry, to know he'd been some unwitting pawn in his abandonment - it'd be devastating.

She turned to see the shadow that was Severus Snape still standing at the opening to the Headmaster's Tower.

"What are we to do, Severus?" Minerva asked. "He's put Hogwarts itself at risk, and goblins do not stop."

"Some of us are more mired in it than others," he said cryptically. "And there is only one thing we can do: look after what is most important to us. That's the only chance we have."

...

Albus could have wept as he saw the Heads of two rival Houses part ways as the gargoyle closed again. What loyal and loving friends he had! Even after their disagreement, after taking the news the wrong way, they had so quickly realized their mistake and was even now moving to support him. Not that he needed the support, of course. He was Albus Dumbledore. He was always right, everyone would see that in time. And after all, what would they do without him? Surely the world would collapse around them.

...

Lester kept his eyes closed as he felt his head emerge from the flames. After a precautionary puff of air out of his nose, he blew small jets of air from his mouth towards his eyes to clear any trace of loose ash that might've accumulated on his face before he'd chance opening an eye. Some might complain about getting ash in their mouths but only because they'd never had an eyeful of the stuff. That was not a pleasant experience.

Whatever his plans, a soft padded pat on the nose had both eyes open at once and Lichfield suddenly found himself eye to eye with a very curious cat. Lester retaliated at the assault of cuddly cuteness by blowing a blast of air at it.

"Go away," Lester said before puffing out his cheeks to send another blast of air at the tiny creature. "Shoo."

The curious calico must've decided the mysterious head in the fire wasn't interesting enough to take the irritation to find out more because it sauntered off with its tail held high. Now free to take a look around, Lichfield noticed one thing right away: the old woman who lived here had no taste. This coming from someone whose apartment had plain white walls and almost no decoration whatsoever, Lichfield mentally revised it to bad taste rather than no taste.

The strangest thing about it was probably how anyone could stand to live in a place which smelled this strongly of cabbage. It might be one of the great mysteries of the ages.

"Hello?" Lichfield called. "Anyone home?"

The last thing he needed was an old biddy giving him the run around by constantly stepping out to get Mr. Whiskers and his eighty two offspring their own private dose of tuna every day.

"Just a moment!" a woman called from the other room.

Lichfield tried to wait patiently through the sound of feet shuffling, doors locking, and curtains being drawn. Just as the pain in his knees was about to have him damn the pretense the grey-haired old biddy in question appeared.

"Y-yes?" she asked.

"Sorry to interrupt," Lichfield smiled. "Are you Arabella Figg of Figg Leaf Breeding?"

"Oh, um - yes," the curious woman answered.

"Wonderful! Do you mind if I come through?" he asked.

"I suppose not," she said.

On wild impulse, Lester tried something he'd always been curious about. Feeling his body back at Gringotts, he kept his hand as close to his neck as possible and followed it towards his head until he was reaching into the flames. It was a curiously twisty sensation, but soon enough his hand and arm popped out of the fire next to his face. Repeating the process on the other side and with a couple self-shoves on both ends soon had the Figg fireplace giving birth to a very old and gnarled Lichfield.

"Sorry about that," Lester said, standing up and dusting himself off. "Didn't want to chance spooking some of them or treading on one of those cats," he explained, gesturing to the growing flock of fur balls around the room.

"That's - very thoughtful of you," the woman said uncertainly.

"Oh, where's my head?" Lichfield asked with a smile. "I'm Lester and I got your name from Gringotts. It seems you inquired about an investment opportunity and acquiring a few more Kneazles for your operation? I've always found getting to know the person behind the business to be the best way to go about things, don't you think?"

"Oh, of course!" the curious Mrs. Figg said now smiling. "Why don't you sit down and I'll make us a spot of tea?" she asked as she hustled him towards the small kitchen table and started bustling around the room.

"Curious to find an animal breeder in a muggle neighborhood, isn't it?" Lichfield asked.

"Oh, I don't mind muggles," Arabella said as she put the pot on to boil. "They love cats even more than we do, so there are plenty of toys they've come up with for the animals to play with. Plus, no one here bothers to look into the affairs of an old lady with a bunch of cats."

Lester found it amusing how the woman transitioned so smoothly from pretending to be a muggle to pretending to be a witch. It made him wonder how far a Squib could go with a bit of acting and a good deal of luck.

"So, you interested in breeding?" the old woman asked. "Cat breeding," she quickly corrected.

"I found the kneazle mixture to be interesting," Lester said. "But what intrigued me most was how close this house was to Privet Drive."

"P-Privet Drive?" the suddenly nervous woman asked as she removed the whistling teapot from the burner and added the tea. "What could possibly be of interest there? Just one muggle place after the next."

.....

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