My name is Ruben, and I am the station master at Platform 9 ¾. I love what I do. Sure, it's a bit boring and far from interpersonal, but it was one of the few careers that allowed me to remain in the wizarding world, close to my sister, close to the world I wished I was a part of.
My father Obadiah was the product of a full blown Muggle and a half-blood witch and my mother Tanya was a witch born into a family of pure Muggles. I suppose it only makes sense that I am a Squib. I am more Muggle than I am magical. Regardless, I was a disappointment to them both.
The summer of my eleventh year was my own personal hell. I do not think I moved from my kitchen table the entire week leading up to the thirty-first of July. I hardly ate, I didn't sleep if I could help it. I stayed there late into the night of the thirty-first, not willing to believe the reality that was shaping before me.
"Come on, you must go to bed," my sister Minnie reasoned with me. She was one year my senior and going into her second year at Hogwarts as a Gryffindor. She had received her letter four days ago.
"No." I said fiercely. "The letter might be coming yet." I looked hopefully at the clock. It read 11:53. I closed my eyes tightly, banishing the tears.
"Well, would you like me to sit with you, then?" Minnie asked me in an attempt at kindness. I shook my head sadly.
"You should go to bed. You have a trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow," I said, my voice hitching in my chest. My wand. I would never be in possession of a wand. I hardly waited until my sister was in her room to break into sobs. I was a failure, a dark spot on the family tree. I tried to recall all the Squib rules that my sister had taunted me with at the beginning of the summer, before she had considered that I might have been a Squib myself.
1. Squibs may not possess wands- This in itself was almost too much to bear. I would never cast a spell, I would never conjure up an item out of thin air like Minnie could.
2. Squibs may not fly on broomsticks, nor play Quidditch- My dreams of becoming a professional Quidditch player were smashed. I couldn't so much as toss a quaffle.
3. Squibs may not obtain careers at the Ministry of Magic, as they are not magical- Now I was a reasonable boy, smart enough to know that while this didn't affect me as an eleven year old, it would be painful to confront in the future.
4. Squibs may not attend schools for witches and wizards- This was the thing that hurt the most. I was an outcast. I wasn't accepted by these people, even my parents were ashamed.
I decided that night, as I trudged up to bed around three in the morning on August first, that a mistake had been made. I was Minnie's little brother, they must have sent my acceptance letter elsewhere. I should expect it in the morning.
Of course, I woke up to more disappointment. My parents were firstly and most prominently sympathetic to my case, but they didn't look as emotionally involved as they would have been on any given day. Any contact they made with me was hesitant and brief. As if being a Squib were catching. Only Minnie remained my constant friend and sympathetic ear. She fought hard for me to accompany the family to Diagon Alley, but it was a futile struggle. I heard my father telling Minnie sternly that I was an embarrassment and he couldn't have me out and about talking to other wizards about my condition. He said it like that. Like I had some disgusting illness. I was ashamed.
I was left at home that day with my two Muggle grandparents. They were the only one who treated me no differently since they'd found I was a Squib. It was then that I appealed to them. I wanted to live with them out in Kent. My parents obliged immediately on my request. I think they were glad to have me out of the house, even if it wasn't in the way they'd wanted.
I spent all my years in secondary school in Kent. I'd come home sometimes in the summer, just to visit Minnie. It was awful. The person in my home who cared most for me was the one who was unintentionally inflicting the most pain upon me.
When she graduated, my parents strictly forbid me from going to the ceremony, but Minnie came back to see me and she spent some time out in Kent with our grandparents as well, so I wouldn't have to see my parents.
"Ruben, I've talked to the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore," Minnie told me one night. "I asked him if there was any place in the wizarding world for my brother whom I loved so dearly, who was unfortunately a Squib." I liked the way she always phrased it when she talked about me being a Squib. She didn't act like it was a disease or a self-inflicted thing. Just like it was an unfortunate occurrence, it was something completely out of my control.
"Did he say he'd help me?" I asked. "I still have two more years of secondary school, you know."
"He's found you a job, if you'll have it." Minnie said hesitantly.
"And?" I asked. I warned myself it would not be glamorous.
"You can be the station master." She told me, her eyes wide behind her newly acquired glasses.
"The what?" I asked, fully aware of what a station master was.
"The station master at Platform 9 ¾. You know, the place where the train departs from Hogwarts." Minnie said her face serene.
"Would I get to see you ever?" I asked.
"Well, probably not much. You see, Professor Dumbledore says that if I go to a specialized school in Wales for the next four years, I can come back and begin teaching there. At Hogwarts," Minnie answered. Her eyes were alight with the possibilities. She was so happy.
"What would you teach?" I asked.
"Transfiguration, probably. I'm best in my class at Transfiguration. At the school in Wales, I'll get to learn how to become an Animagus, Ruben. I'll be able to transform into an animal whenever I like." Minnie beamed at me. I nodded solemnly, suppressing the jealousy I felt. I looked up at her and sighed. I couldn't turn her down, not when she was so happy like this.
"Of course I'd love to be the station master. But only under the condition that someday, you take me to see Hogwarts." I said seriously, holding out my hand for her to shake. She took it with equal gravity.
"I promise you, my brother, Ruben Lysander McGonagall, that I, Minerva Artemis McGonagall, will someday take you to see Hogwarts." And we shook on it.
Some years have passed since that handshake when I was sixteen. I am no young boy anymore, and Minnie is now the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. I couldn't be prouder. I still haven't seen Hogwarts yet, but I get the pleasure of seeing the children who attend there every fall. I suppose I should be content with simply living vicariously through these children, as Minnie seems to have forgotten our deal. I brought it up to her once in conversation.
"Do you remember what you told me when you first offered me the job?"
"I can't say I do. Why? Was it important?" She asked. I waved her off, dismissing the fact. I will never see Hogwarts, I believe. And this saddens me greatly.
My name is Ruben McGonagall and I am the station master at Platform 9 ¾. I wished as much as you, dear reader, that I was part of this fantastical world. But alas, some things can never be.
I'll be writing several more oneshots like this from the point of view of extremely minor characters or characters I make myself! Cheers!