A/N: I've had a few people review my Marius fics and request a continuance of them. As such, I've decided to finally attempt to sit down and put all my headcanons into a multi-chapter. I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 1107

Part One

Marius' eyes are fixed upon the clock. Five minutes until midnight. Five minutes until he's eleven.

He needs a miracle.

The small boy paces nervously. Pollux and Cassiopeia are a proper wizard and witch. Even Dorea, at eight years old, has shown signs of magic.

So what's wrong with him? Why is he so broken and defective?

Marius sniffles, trying to ignore the pressure behind his eyes. He wipes his face furiously with his sleeve, hating each and every traitorous teardrop that falls.

"Please," he whispers, but he isn't sure who he's talking to. No one is around who can hear him; even if someone was listening, it's not like they could fix whatever is wrong with him and make magic pulse through his veins. "Please… I don't want to be a Squib."

He's heard horror stories from other families. Squibs never have happy endings. They are sent away, never to be heard from again. Some are murdered, and their families insist that it's a tragic accident.

Marius doesn't know what to expect. The older he's grown, the meaner his father has gotten. Each year that has passed without any signs of magic have earned him harsher punishments and colder neglect. He only hopes his father will have some mercy. He's just a boy; surely his father won't actually kill him.

The clock chimes midnight. Marius searches within himself. There has to be a way to make something happen. If he just tries or wishes really hard, it has to work.

But it doesn't.

Nothing happens.

He is eleven years old and most definitely a Squib.

…

There is no plate set for him at breakfast in the morning. Only Dorea greets him with a bright smile. She doesn't know any better. One day, she'll learn to hate him too.

Out of everything, that's the thing that hurts the most. Dorea has been his best friend since she was old enough to walk. She doesn't care that he isn't like her and their family. But one day, she will care. Her father will tell her stories about Marius Black, the filthy Squib, the blight on their family's name.

Their father steps into his path before he can even try to reach the table. Marius swallows dryly, trying to be brave. He isn't. Blacks have never been Gryffindors. He may never see Hogwarts, but he knows there's no way in hell he'd ever end up in a house known for bravery. Just a look from his father causes him to tremble, and the tears begin to fall.

"No letter," his father says. "I guess it's true."

Marius wipes his tears away, shaking his head. He wants to plead with his father, insist that there's been a mistake. Can he lie and find a way to stay here for just a little longer? He doubts it. His father is too cruel to offer him even a shred of pity.

"Out."

"Father, please…"

"I'm not your father, boy. No son of mine could ever be so useless."

"Please…"

Rough hands grip his shoulders. Marius can feel the bruises already forming on his skin.

"Father!" Dorea cries, rushing forward. "Don't hurt Mari!"

Their mother holds her back, brushing her fingers through Dorea's messy hair. "It has to be done, my love. He isn't your brother anymore."

"Is!" Dorea insists, stamping her foot. "He's always gonna be my brother!"

"You've upset her," his father snarls, dragging Marius along.

He can't see Dorea anymore, but he can still hear her crying in the dining room. She screams his name over and over again, and it gives Marius strength. He pulls away from his father's grip. It's a stupid thing to do, but he wants to say goodbye. He owes his sister that.

He kneels beside her, kissing her cheek before their mother can pull her out of his reach. "I'll write you, Dor," he says. "I promise!"

His father grabs him roughly, pulling away. Dorea still reaches out to him, and Marius wants nothing more than to grab her and take her with him. But he doesn't; he can't. Maybe their family isn't the best, but she'll be safe there. What can he offer her? Absolutely nothing.

With a wave of his wand, his father opens the door and tosses Marius roughly onto the street. Marius winces as the ground scrapes his exposed arms, and he can see droplets of blood beading over the abrasions. He looks up, but the door is already closed. It will never again open for him.

…

Marius waits. He knows it's pointless. His father isn't going to just change his mind and suddenly decide that Marius can stay. Still, he waits outside, staring up at that big house that he had once called home.

As the sun sets, he sees a little face peek out through a window upstairs. Dorea waves at him, and Marius waves back, feeling a little flutter in his stomach. A moment later, Dorea is snatched away, and her face is replaced by his mother's. She glares down at him for just a moment before turning away, yanking the curtains closed.

Marius swallows dryly, looking around. It's nearly dark, and he doesn't know what to do. He wants his bed and blankets. He wants to curl up with a book until he drifts off to sleep.

But that isn't an option anymore. He no longer has a home or those little luxuries he has known for years.

Without anything else to do, Marius begins to walk. He doesn't know where he's going. His parents have always forbidden him from walking these streets. Muggles are dangerous, and there are too many of them around.

Marius shivers. He's practically a Muggle too. What will that mean for him? Will they somehow know that he is one of them? Will he be safe among these strange creatures he's always been warned against?

His stomach growls, and he whimpers. How will he eat without house-elves to prepare his meals? Where will he sleep?

There are too many questions in his mind, and he doesn't know how to find the answers. Each new question that forms brings him a new wave of anxiety.

Alone and afraid with nowhere to go, he lets his legs carry him along. Somehow, he'll figure things out. Or he'll die. Marius hopes for the former.

He doesn't know where he's going or what he's going to do. He walks until the moon is in the sky. He walks until his eyes are too heavy to keep open any longer. He walks and hopes that things will be better in the morning.