Different is bad.

This fact was undeniable to every member of the Blishwick family. In fact, being different was practically a death sentence if you a were a Blishwick. The last family member to stray from the trodden road, cousin Alexis, worked as a clerk in Diagon Alley and hadn't spoken to any of the family since he'd finished school.

So, of course, when Sable Blishwick started noticing something different about herself, she stayed in denial about it. When her cousins would ask with a wink a grin how her magic had shown itself, she'd just shrug and mumble something about being a late bloomer. When her parents would whisper their fears, she'd pretend they went unheard and unnoticed. When her elders would look at her family with disapproval shooting Sable's way, she'd duck her head and act unbothered.

Because, while no one dared say anything aloud, there was always that nagging voice insisting that there was something fundamentally different about young Sable Rose Blishwick. It wasn't anything in her demeanor or looks. In fact, she was a particularly polite and lovely young girl. Her tutors always reported that her skills in math and reading and history were above average and she could solve problems remarkably well, while guests always praised her charm and way with words.

No, it was nothing measurable like that. The fact of the matter was that she simply showed no signs of magical ability at all. When she walked into a room, a heavy curtain seemed to drop over the place. The white elephant was a single word that everyone constantly thought, but no one ever said aloud: Squib.

"She's just a late bloomer," her parents would assure people. "Or has very good control over her emotions. It happens differently for everyone." But, everyone knew those were all lies. Comforting lies, but lies none the less.

Sable tried not to let it bother her, the rumors flying around about her ability. 'I'm a witch,'she'd say in her head over and over. 'I'm Sable the witch. I'll be a Quidditch champion, a medic, a member of the ministry. My name will go down in history as one of the most powerful witches that ever was. And won't it be funny when people discover that people suspected I may have been a Squib.

However, when nighttime rolled around and she laid in her large, cannopied bed, the thoughts were quite different. She'd squint her eyes closed as tight as she could and focus as hard as she could in hopes that maybe that was all it would take to unleash a bit of uncontrolled, young power that all of her friends had already discovered. But, no matter how hard she tried, it just didn't happen.

As the summer of her tenth year came perilously close to a close, a shadow hung over the house. Anxiety was rapid and tensions were high. Everyday when the owl came, bearing the mail, the household anxiously hovered, hoping beyond hope to see one little white envelope emblazoned with the letter "H."

"Mum?" Sable asked one day over breakfast.

"Yes, dear?"

"Do squibs go to Hogwarts? Even just to learn some basics? It doesn't seem quite fair to not allow them any education," Sable said, outwardly calm, as though she'd been asking an innocent question. Her ever composed mother coughed, choking on her pancake and her father gave her a shocked look.

"Sable, that isn't appropriate to bring up-" her father began, his voice harsh.

"Why? I'm just curious about squibs."

"You know very well why. Squibs are not appropriate dinner table conversation."

Sable bit her lip and looked down at her pancakes and pumpkin juice, no longer feel like eating. In fact, crying seemed like the far better thing to do at the moment and she couldn't help the slow tears the dripped from her face and onto her food. Even the mere word squib disgusted her parents. She could see the look of horror that overcame her mother's face and hear the revulsion in her father's voice and words. It wouldn't bother her, except she was terrified that she was a Squib

"Sable! Stop your blubbering and eat."

"I don't want to," she said. "I'm not hungry father."

"Eat. I won't see you wasting your food. You need to eat."

Sable sighed and picked at the food Mitzy, their houseelf, had prepared. The topic wasn't revisited.

"They have to let her in-"

"I know, I know. I've send them money, though, and there's not a lot we can do beyond that. We've financially supported quite a bit of the school."

"What if they reject her still though? You know how that headmaster is."

"Well, if he doesn't accept it, surely someone can talk sense into him. That school needs us too much right now to let us go."

"Sable!" Mrs Blishwick yelled one day. "Sable come down here! There's mail for you!"

'Mail?' Sable wondered, confused. She never received mail. 'Unless... My Hogwarts Letter!' Trying to not let herself hope too much, Sable rushed down the stairs and into the dining area, where her mother held the envelope she'd been hoping to receive for so long now. With anxious hands she grabbed and opened the letter, tearing into it and praying for the words to say what she hoped they would.

"Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms Blishwick,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..."

She rapidly skimmed through the rest, not really taking in anymore information. A large grin was plastered over her face. She'd grown to believe in the past weeks that she simply wouldn't be able to go to Hogwarts. But, surely this letter meant she was no Squib. She was a witch like her mother and her mother before that.

"Dad we need to go to Diagon Alley!" she called out in excitement. She was in a state of awe. Her parents shared a knowing, yet relieved, look over her head.

"Yeah, I guess we do," Mr Blishwick said, skimming over her letter and supplies. "Next week," he said. "We'll go and get you your robes and cauldron and owl. I don't want you having to use the school owls."

"And my wand!"

Her dad grimaced, an expression that crossed his face so briefly Sable couldn't help but wander if she'd imagined it. "Sure. Yeah, of course. That, too."

End Note:

This has not yet been fully edited, so I apologize the awkward phrasing, uncaught grammar errors, and typos. I do need to go and fix that and I will soon. I'll have the next chapter up in the next couple of days and it should be longer and, hopefully, better :)