Year 3
I can recall my first memory easily, if someone were to ask about it.
It is of my brother and I, out in the garden and it must have been during the summer, because all the flowers are in full bloom and vibrant. First memories are never about yourself. I was sitting contently in the grass, running my fingers along the ground. A particularly green glade catches my eye so I reach across and tear it from the earth with my tiny fist, bringing it up to my face for a better look. Then my brother, Noah, six years old at the time, comes dashing beside me.
"'Elo, Libs" He slurs as most little kids do, staring at me with wide grey eyes.
In the memory I feel like I should know this person, they are familiar, and without even thinking about it a word pops out from my mouth. "'Oah!" His name, simplified and correct in a tiny human's mind.
This pleases him, a wide grin spreads on his tiny face. With the emotion comes twinkles of light, sparks, that fall all around us. We are both amazed at this, he is especially excited. I let the glade fall from my fist,forgotten, as I instead reach up to grab one of the sparkles. They all dissolve before I could ever get a hold of them. To a three year old this did not seem strange or out of the ordinary at all, if anything the light seemed to fit perfectly among the flowers. It turns out I had also become forgotten in Noah's excitement, as he runs off to some mystery destination.
Quickly he comes back out, this time trailed by two adults that I adore, though yet again, in the memory, I'm not sure why. As they come closer the same thing happens as it did with Noah "Ma, Da!" I had shouted in an eager little voice, giggling under a canopy of twinkles. They seem incredibly happy by the dots of light too but that had already left my little mind. I think, in the memory, that their happiness comes from seeing me. Wiggling my arms as they come closer, I expect that they will come and pick me up as they draw closer.
But they don't. Not immediately. They stare, above my head, transfixed by the tiny lights still falling like brilliantly sparkling snow. My smile falls when I realize that they are not paying much attention to me. They speak in an excited voice to Noah, mum hugging him around the shoulders and dad has a hand on his back, patting encouragingly.
"You did it" Dad says, still staring above me.
At the time I had no idea what he was talking about. What did the little one do that was so amazing, that deserved so much praise? I couldn't articulate it that way at the time either, but those feelings were etched into my heart. Finally I am given a thought, dad picks me up in his arms and points out the lights to me, from this height it is a little hard to make out the glowing stuff from the pale blue sky. He leans into my head, warm, jaw rough with a bit of a beard.
"Soon you'll get to do that too, Libby dear," He whispers lovingly. Still I don't know what he could possibly be talking about. As far as I had been concerned the sparkles had happened by themselves, with no need for human prompting.
My first memory had been about magic.
Year 6
My brother Noah is magic.
Sometimes he accidentally floats cups into the air when he's bored and when he gets very mad he might hex without thinking. Or, at least, that's what he says. Mummy told me that he was magic, and that's why he can do those things. Mummy and daddy are also magic, they told Noah that they would teach him how to fly on a broom this year. They already bought him a broom from a place they called Diagon Alley, but Noah and I aren't allowed to go until we're older.
Mummy also says that I will be able to use magic, too, she says I'm probably going to develop it at a more normal time than Noah did and that's why nothing spectacular happens when I show a lot of emotion. Then she says how daddy was a very late-bloomer, so I should not worry about Noah's teasing. Then she laughs and daddy looks annoyed but I never understand why, mummy is just being funny.
Noah will be going to Hogwarts in two years, and he simply cannot wait. Neither can I really, it makes me mad that he will be there for three years before I get to. Daddy says his time at Hogwarts had been some of the best years of his life, and that it was where he met mummy. He says he was put into Ravenclaw, the most clever house, while mummy had been put into Gryffindor, the bravest house of all. There's also Hufflepuff and Slytherin, but Noah and I don't care for those because mummy and daddy weren't in them. When mummy and daddy aren't around Noah tells me not to talk about Hogwarts or houses or that I would like to be in Gryffindor too, because I won't ever go to Hogwarts. That I am not magical, and that Hogwarts doesn't want any muggles.
I always tell him that that is silly, because I cannot be a muggle, I cannot be non-magical. If mummy and daddy and Noah are magical, than I must be too. I always remind him what mummy said about normal times and late-bloomers, but then he just tells me that she only says that to make me feel better. Then I say how wrong and dim he must be, because daddy was a late-bloomer and he turned out to be great at magic, so ha! But then Noah would tell me that they were lying and daddy could always use magic since he was very little, but I don't believe him. They would never lie to me about that. Noah just wants all the attention, he always has.
"You can't do magic, Libs," He says to me one night after dinner, once we are tucked into our own beds in our shared room. "It just isn't in you,"
I frown. "Shh, Noah, we must go to bed. Daddy is teaching you how to fly, tomorrow. Maybe he'll let me onto the broom for a little, too, if I am very good."
There is light movement from his side, he turns to me and I can see his face just a bit. He shakes his head. "No, daddy would never, you're too small and you'd just fall off. That or you wouldn't be able to make it off the ground,"
"Be quiet Noah, you are the meanest boy on earth!" I say, my voice coming out garbled as tears fill my eyes.
Quickly I roll as far away from him as possible, because he is the meanest boy on earth. Secretly I hope that my first bit of magic will be jinxing him off his broom tomorrow. But when he slips out of his bed and crawls over to mine, coming under the covers into my bed, there is nothing I can do to stop him. He nudges over so he is right next to me, then pokes my sides. After I don't respond he puts a hand on my shoulder, like daddy would probably do, and shakes gently.
"Hey," He speaks softly. "Sorry Libby ears, that wasn't very nice. I just really like magic is all, and if you get some than it feels like I'm sharing,"
"Mummy says sharing is good," I whisper.
For awhile he doesn't say anything, and I expect that whatever he tells me next will be awful. "I suppose she's right. Night Libby ears," He says, kissing my ear, then he slides out from my bed and tiptoes over to his own. Before I drift off to sleep I imagine myself tomorrow, being able to lift the broom at least an inch off the ground.
We live in a wizard community on the English country side. Mummy told me once, and I remember very well because I like how it sounds when I say it. Also, I have a very good memory which I am very proud of, because it's even better than Noah's. Sometimes when daddy is oddly forgetful I will remind him of things he may have been missing. It is very good for basic home schooling, Noah and I learn the same things because we're close enough in age, though that makes me ahead of a lot of other six year old's. I'm also better in school than Noah which he gets mad about, and mummy tells me always with a smile that I could make a perfect Ravenclaw. Whenever she tells me I begin to think that maybe being in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor wouldn't be so bad.
Because we live on the countryside with only other wizards around, it is very easy for daddy to take us out to the field to learn how to use a broom without having to be worried about a muggle spotting us. So today that is exactly where he takes us. As we got up this morning I thought Noah might forget all about his apology and complain about how I am coming along, but he never says a word about it. Daddy brings two brooms with us, one for himself and one for Noah. Daddy says that I don't have one because I'm not old enough to learn yet, and this makes sense to me because Noah only got one this year. It's not because he's more special than me. It's not.
Leaving his own broom off to the side daddy steps in front of Noah, dropping my brother's broom between them. Noah stares down at it while daddy stares directly at Noah. The broom is very strange compared to others, with the weird hair-like things attached to it a shocking green while the handle is gold and shiny. Bringing out a hand daddy says "Up!" and the broom instantly places itself in daddy's grasp without him ever even taking a peek at it. Noah's eyes follow like he's in a trance, then stares at daddy.
"Now, Noah," Daddy begins, and I listen very carefully in case anything he says might help me. "When it comes to picking up a broom like I just did, you cannot just stare at it and expect things to happen. You are in total control, but it must be natural. It is not a question of whether the broom might come to you, because it will come to you. Just like how the sun comes up every morning or the weather changes, but this time it is up to you and what you want, nothing else. No ifs, and's or buts. All you have to do is say up,"
He drops the broom again, it doesn't make much of a noise as it hits the ground. "You can try now," He tells Noah.
For a few minutes that's what Noah does, trying a few different techniques. At first he tries being like daddy, not really looking at the broom but rather at everything else with his hand held over it and repeatedly saying up. It seems to come to him that that would be too advanced for him, so he stares, too intensely, at the broom, apparently willing it to lift from the earth. Daddy doesn't give him any word of advice, just watches next to me. Noah grows more irritated as his nose bunches up and he gets a sort of mad look on his face but never does he whine or say anything to daddy. The whole thing seems odd to me, Noah should be asking daddy for help like he does with homework but he doesn't. Eventually the broom, very, very slowly wobbles off the ground, coming up as fast as a turtle. Noah is very proud of this as a huge grin takes place on his face, but just as quickly it falls to the ground again. So does Noah's grin.
"Good start, lad." Daddy congratulates, though Noah still doesn't seem to think so. "We can go back now, if you've had enough for today."
All of a sudden Noah gets an angry look again. "No! I can do it! I will do it! I already have, that means I can do it again! The broom must comeup," He yells.
The broom is now for the first time in his hand through his own magic, too fast for me to have seen. Daddy also notices, but for a moment Noah is still unaware. His angry look gets mixed with confusion. "What're you two staring at?"
Daddy must have given him some look, just after having locked his grey eyes on him Noah looks to his own side, at the golden handle resting there. His entire face lights up and I think for a moment that twinkles are going to pop out of him but they don't, he's been getting better at that. He lifts it before himself like it was some newly discovered object and does some high pitched screaming at his own brilliance.
"Before long you'll be playing quidditch with the best of them," Daddy says, smiling happily. Daddy had been on his own team when he was younger, but I'm not really sure what exactly quidditch is. They tried explaining it to me once but there were too many details, Noah understands it and now talks about all the famous teams whenever he can. Daddy says when I'm Noah's age I'll be able to picture it better, whatever that means. All I can imagine is a lot of people throwing a lot of balls at each other while flying on brooms, and it seems rather silly. Still, daddy's smart and likes quidditch so there must be something to it.
"Alright, now that really is enough for today. I wasn't sure if you'd be able to do much today but you've done more than enough. We'll start flying tomorrow,"
"Daddy?" I ask, tugging on his jacket. He looks down at me curiously.
"Yes, lovely Libby?"
"Could I try to lift the broom, just a little? I won't ride, I-"
He shakes his head, a bit sadly, but I don't care. All I see is the rejection. "No, Elizabeth, we can't have you starting now or you might fly away some day."
You wouldn't be able to make it off the ground.
Year 8
Noah got his letter today. He is eleven years old now, an owl came in bright and early to drop the parcel, with a wax seal and all. He waves it around all throughout the house, jumping and shouting in delight. Mum and dad -I started calling them this when Noah did- are watching with a silent joy. I am also somewhat elated, the mood rubbing off on me.
"Oh I can't wait! Just a few more months and I'll get into a house, than I can try out for quidditch-"
Dad calls after him "They might not accept you on the team since you're a first year, but if you do very well during try-outs they'll keep an eye on you for next year,"
I understand quidditch very well now, as I have picked up on what exactly bludgers and chasers and all those sorts are. Still I am not all that interested in the game, not as eager as dad or Noah, but at least I don't get that look from Noah anymore about it. The look that tells me I have no place. Once he begins to finally calm down he comes back to the staircase where we all are, waiting. Looking up he spots me and I give him a small smile of approval, because I hope that when my time comes he will be just as happy about it. He makes his way to me, the letter floating in his fingers, and presents it to me.
"Here Libs, have a look see,"
Carefully I take the paper in my hands, addressed to Noah. It sounds flowery with welcoming Noah to school then goes on to list all the supplies he'll need and a separate list for what pet he is allowed to have there. An owl is on the list, but I cannot imagine Noah with an animal. He would probably ignore any poor pet he brought with him. I hand it back to his still smiling face, pretending to be more impressed than I really am. It's only a letter, one all wizards and witches in Britain get at eleven years old. In three years, I will have one too.
"You'll need an owl, for getting our letters," Mum says.
"You'll be getting all your things when school gets closer, at Diagon Alley," I wonder who will be babysitting me. "Of course all of us will be going."
Diagon Alley.
A month and a half later we use Floo powder to get there, sparkling green grains. One by one we get into the fire pit, mum tells me when it's my turn to just think of the name, only the name and I'll get there. Dad goes first, then Noah. When it's my turn mum draws out the pouch of powder and holds it out in front of me, I take a handful.
"Remember, Diagon Alley," She says, very serious.
How could I ever forget?
Throwing the powder beneath my feet the room changes and shifts and I feel a little sick but when things come together again I can make out Noah and dad, so it must have worked. I walk out into a new world, the real wizarding world and not the old community I live in where everyone keeps to themselves, where people are so afraid of he-who-shall-not-be-named returning that they lock all their doors and close their blinds. Everyone here at the Leaky Cauldron lets magic flow, they do not hide in their pointy hats and long robes. Dad reaches his hand out for me and I take it, even with the amazingness of it all I am still a little afraid, I still want dad. Noah apparently does not, he is impatient and jittery beside us as we wait on mum.
She comes through not much long after and joins us. The three of us stay close together as we walk out into the streets but Noah has grown the need to run off to look at things in stores. Diagon Alley is cramped and close-spaced, you can only see the sky if you look directly up at it. But there are too many interesting things to see at eye level, so I don't bother with that for very long. It is a very fun day, after getting all the mandatory things for Noah, like quills and a new cauldron, we go to Ollivander's where a bunch of funny things happen to Noah with the wands, like cause rain clouds to go over his head and his pants to fly down revealing boxers and turning him pink. Then while he is holding one some of those infamous bulbs of light show up again, and the wand he holds turns out to be the one. After all that we take a break.
We stop be a candy store and I get some chocolate frogs and Bertie's Every Flavour Beans, the ones I don't like dad takes away and eats them no matter how bad they taste. Noah and I giggle every time we know it's a particularly gross one, but dad never gives it away. We then move on to get Noah his own owl, a big brown barn owl with yellow eyes and a huge beak, stored in a proper cage. Noah get's fitted into some standard robes for Hogwarts and then we're back in the Leaky Cauldron and I have another handful of Floo powder cupped in my hand, thinking about how much more spectacular it will be when a future trip to Diagon Alley will be for me.
Noah has been gone for about a month now. We dropped him off at King's Cross Station and I got to run through a brick wall to platform 9 and 3/4 where we all saw him off. The house is quieter and more peaceful I suppose. I don't think it's a very good environment for me to use magic accidentally. There are no kids in my village to play with, just a lot of old people. Mum told me this was because a lot of people were afraid to have kids when you-know-who was still around and really powerful. Mum wanted to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix when she was younger to help stop him, but grandma wouldn't let her. She did what she could and hid mudbloods in her attic, one time they almost got caught for having one.
It has been rather dull lately.
Noah has sent a letter already. He got into Ravenclaw, which he seemed fine with. Dad makes a comment that it's because of the extra time they've spent on honing what they could without a wand when really Noah should have came into Hogwarts with little practice. Dad told Noah not to tell anyone about it because even though kids under eleven are exempt from the underage magic rule, it's still expected that parents try and keep a better handle and would only make dad look bad in the community. He went on to tell Noah to try and seem like he has less than basic use of magic just to be safe. Noah is making lots of friends like two boys named Michael Corner and Terry Boot, and he says that his favourite teacher is Professor Flitwick, though then goes on to say that he likes Care of Magical Creatures best because it's much more fresh to him than anything else, and he really is more clueless about it.
Dad says how Noah's curiosity proved all along that he was meant to be a Ravenclaw, then says to mum that her house might have better luck with me.
Mum says there is no chance in Godric's Hollow that either of her kids will be marked by red and gold.
The rest is rather boring as mum reads it through, describing the headmaster and some of the other staff like Hagrid who is a half giant and speaks in a strange way and a man named Mr. Filch who is a Squib, which I've never heard of before. Mum says Squibs are people who have magic parents but are not magic themselves, which really sounds awful. My mind flashes to Noah and the countless times he has said that I am not magical, and I shiver a bit at the thought.
Why would anyone like that want to always be surrounded by a bunch of people who could do things they could never have the power to do?
Mum reads the last of the letter, Noah sending his love and surprisingly he says that he cannot wait until my first year at Hogwarts, so that I can see everything too. I think perhaps he is trying to win some points with mum and dad. It seems to work as they think the personal message to me is sweet and very mature for Noah, that he must be changing already. Then mum starts to tear up for some reason and dad pats her back nicely, so he must understand what's wrong.
I get off my chair in the kitchen and quietly go upstairs to leave them alone.
Noah comes back from Hogwarts for Christmas break. It is like he has never left. Very easily I am brought back to a few months ago when he still lived with us, and it's strange to think that he'll be leaving again for some more months and then back again for a little while only to leave again. Like I only have a part-time brother. He brought lots of Ravenclaw stuff with him, like a new hat and scarf and mitts striped in blue and bronze. He even has a couple little rectangular flag things with him which he says he waves around during quidditch matches from the stands. He had tried out for the team like he said he would and the captain told him he had a lot of talent but as dad predicted was instructed to come try out again next year as it was very rare to take a first year into the group.
Another thing that he did not mention in his letters was that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, is in the same year as him. He was sorted into Gryffindor. The only way a witch or wizard couldn't know about Harry was if they had been living under a rock or in the muggle world for decades. Mum would tell us as a night time story that it was Harry Potter, only a tiny little baby at the time, around the same age as us, had the dark lord threaten to kill him. Then, through acts that no wizard truly knows about, he managed to defeat you-know-who and had only come out of the encounter with a scar whereas so many before had perished. Instantly everyone knew who he was.
A superstar.
"Really?" I shriek once he tells us over supper. Mum and dad don't seem surprised by this at all, but they probably knew about it to begin with. "What's he look like? Does he still have the scar?"
"Green eyes, messy dark hair, and yes he's still got the scar. Got glasses, too," Noah says before stuffing a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
"Oh... have you talked to him before?" I ask hopefully. Maybe he's said something wise to make my brother act less like a prat.
Noah tilts his head in thought. Strange, not that long ago he would have been begging for this kind of information on what they all considered a sort of superhero. " Once or twice, we don't have many classes together. He keeps to himself and these two other Gryffindors a lot, not one for socializing really. He's actually grown up in the muggle world and didn't know anything about what he did as a baby. Almost like it wasn't actually him at all,"
This just keeps getting more disappointing. The situation seems incredibly odd. "Well then he must at least be an amazing wizard,"
Noah shrugs. "Not really, pretty average if you ask me. That one friend of his, the girl, is much more talented. She picks up on things better,"
"That's enough about Harry Potter, isn't it Elizabeth? I'm sure Noah would like to talk about other things. How about your friends?" She changes the subject. Dinner goes on smoothly
During the break we went on a few quidditch practices, this time dad letting me try my hand at lifting the broom for a few minutes. It does absolutely nothing. Noah doesn't comment on this and dad doesn't seem upset, he tells me that it might be better if I learned how to fly at Hogwarts anyway. So instead of learning to fly dad lets me on the broom with him, myself in the back so I can hold on to him, and together, with Noah on his own broom, we sail many feet into the sky. It is a very fun two weeks and when New Year's day comes Noah tells me that means I only have another two more years to wait. When we see him off again at King's Cross he gives me a huge bear hug.
"Bye, Libby ears," He says right into my ears, and I get the feeling I am going to miss him.
"See you, Noah," I bid, hugging him back.
He lets go and mum and dad come to hug him as well, he seems to be a bit embarrassed by their sign of love. Brother's are weird; first he seems fine with hugging me but doesn't want mum and dad to do the same for him. Mum always says we're lucky how we have parents when a lot of children had been left orphaned or without one parent, Noah should know this best of all since he by now must have met at least a few of them. Harry Potter is one of them. Then again Noah might tell me to shut my big gob and that I listen to mum too much. Or maybe not, he seems to have gotten nicer.
We watch as he boards the train, getting into a car box and sitting down with some people he seems familiar with if chatting with them is any indication. It's all a bit fuzzy from our spot on the platform but he seems to see us well as he notices our watching eyes and waves at us. The train's whistle blows and the wheels start to turn, gas billows out from the machine and my brother is off to Hogwarts again.
Not once during the trip did he tell me that I cannot use magic.
Year 11
Today is my birthday, which means I should be getting my letter to Hogwarts. I have still never showed any signs of having magical capabilities. I'm not sure what to make of that.
The other day I heard mum and dad talking in their room, I don't think I was supposed to hear any of it but I did anyway. They were whispering to each other so I wasn't sure what they were saying at first, until I pressed my ear into the door and got into a comfortable sitting position, trying to be as quiet as possible. Their voices get louder, but just barely.
"Could be..."
"No, no, that's not...has it, so why not...?"
"We have to face..."
"Still, time..."
"Other ways... world would be..."
The response is a tad louder. It's mum. "No! Not acceptable..."
"...our hands. Genes...the way...so we have no right..."
"Should have...earlier..."
"Too late. Would have... no good...me,"
Their voices draw lower until their conversation slowly comes to a halt, leaving me with no more clues to go on. I can only guess at what they were talking about. Me, they are starting to have doubts about me. I was surprised that their doubts had only started recently, they must have never lied like Noah said on one occasion. Dad really was a late-bloomer, if I were him I would have started showing signs only a couple months ago.
But I am not, and so far there has been nothing.
Today is my birthday, and unless there is some really large mistake, if I do not get a letter, than that will be the deciding factor. I will never be magical. That outcome is something I never liked to think on too much because when I do my hands get all sweaty and I feel just wretched. Now the name Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker who every student at that magical school abhors, comes to mind.
I could be like him.
My future could be taking care of a school I never attended with only an old cat as company.
It is just as awful as when I first pictured it.
Immediately after getting out of bed I run to the front door still with a hop in my step because I could still turn out to be a witch and then mum and dad will regret everything they said the other night and in a couple weeks I could go to Diagon Alley and maybe get a cat, and then I would get to go to Hogwarts and be sorted into a house just like Noah though I probably wouldn't try out for quidditch. Dad would tell me to keep Noah's secret training between just us and I would get to decide which professors and classes I like best and if I ever came across Filch's cat during proper hours I would give her a treat for being a good friend to someone who needs it. Then I would come home for Christmas with new mitts and a hat and scarf and tell everyone about Harry Potter.
As I get to the door my feet slow, but my brain speeds up even more. I tiptoe to the mail box and shove my hand inside, feeling for a letter. I do not try to make out a wax seal or feel the texture of whatever I'm pulling out, afraid that they would tell me something I do not want to know. My hand comes out with a few letters in hand. None of them are for Hogwarts.
I had not realized that my parents were present until they come up from behind me, wrapping their arms around me, as if they were trying to encase me from the outside world. From all of realities harsh truths. They must know this is too much to bear, my heart feels torn in half. There are tears growing in my eyes and blurring my vision but it doesn't seem to matter now.
Nothing seems to matter.
It had been the worst birthday of my life. There is no shouting around the house for me, mum doesn't tell me that I might need an owl and dad doesn't mention Diagon Alley. I suppose I could always get an owl and use Floo powder to visit Diagon Alley, anyone could do those things, but there would be no meaning to it. I would still be a useless Squib. No letter for me comes at all today, none addressing Elizabeth Lawson inviting her to Hogwarts.
At supper, mum says I can get whatever I want for my birthday, she would travel to any corner of the earth to retrieve it. I almost tell her that unless there is some secret hidden reservoir of magic in the world that could be transferred into someone, than there was nothing that I wanted. But mum doesn't deserve me being mean to her and I have never been the biting type like Noah so I don't say anything at all. Dad goes on to say that I could still go to a private boarding school if I'd like, with uniforms and dormitories and everything. He says it would be like the same experience, maybe I would have more interesting adventures than Noah. What adventures could muggles possibly get up to? He says that I could also continue on in home-schooling if I wanted, stay close to them.
I tell them that I am too tired to consider anything.
After supper mum comes up to tuck me in, she hasn't done that for months. I do not swat her away as she creeps forward, possibly expecting that I would get angry with her. When I don't she sits on the side of my bed, looking down at me with her grey eyes just like the ones Noah has. It reminds me a bit of what I don't. Mum flattens my hair a bit though it's already relatively straight and I think it might be more for her own sake than mine. She sighs and I only stare up at her, waiting for her to do something. Maybe hug me, or tell me that at least I'm not a muggle, anything at all.
"You're a special girl, Elizabeth," She says softly, it doesn't sound particularly loving, more like she's actually making a simple observation. "Always have been,"
I have no idea what she could be talking about. Everyone is more special than me, her and dad and Noah and everyone in this community. They all have the little bulbs of light that I do not, the lights that make life fantastic.
She seems to see the confusion on my face as her smile grows a bit. "It's true even if it doesn't seem like it. Normally when a witch and a wizard have a baby the baby is also magical, just like what happened with Noah. What's special about you is that you were not the regular old thing, maybe you weren't the first time it's happened but you were different. You had other plans, and now you can make yourself to be something whether it's in the muggle world or the wizard one. You can fit into both,"
"But why should that happen to me? Why don't I deserve to be a witch, too?" I ask, nearly crying again. Maybe I am being a big baby about it, but the more I think of life without magic the more tears form.
"It's not about who deserves what, love. You have life and you have the decisions that were made for you and the ones you get to make. I want you to think about something; do you hate muggles?"
I scrunch up my face at the absurdity of the question. "No! I have never even met one!"
"So then, what is wrong with being more like them and less like a witch?"
"Well, um... they don't get to be a part of the wizarding world,"
"And we don't get to be a part of theirs, not really. One is not better than the other, Libby. The good thing about you, the best, most special and magical thing, is that you get to choose. Not everyone gets that,"
"But I don't wanna be like Mr. Filch. No one likes him,"
Mum frowns. "Mr. Flich does his best, Libby, don't forget that. He wasn't left with being a caretaker if he chose to stay in the wizarding world and don't you forget that. Yes it might be harder to get a very good job in in the wizarding world if you're a Squib but there are still things to do if you like it better. You could own a shop or be an assistant to a Minister, there are so many things you can do darling girl. But most of all, Libby, know that you are loved,"
Could I really have a chance to be a part of their world still, even if I could never fully participate? Suddenly an image of Mr. Filch pops into my head even though I've never seen him, always complaining about students and their misconducts, having no one around to relate to at all. Allowing himself to be surrounded by people who probably only remind him of his failures and that he just wasn't good enough. Would everyone treat me like that, if I were to try and belong?
"Could I go to just regular state school, mum? Not home-school or a boarding school? If I won't be going to Hogwarts I don't want to try and re-create it, or pretend like nothings changed."
She nods, almost enthusiastically. I can see that something I must have said made her over the moon. "Yes, sweet Libs. Go to sleep now, okay? Don't worry about a thing,"
We start packing immediately the next day. I didn't think mum and dad would want to just gather all of our things and leave but before I even woke up they were already at it, putting some of our objects into boxes while tossing others away. When I get up groggily and come downstairs I notice the mayhem but in my dazed state can't imagine what is going on. Stepping down the stairs my mum looks over her shoulder and notices me, her short light brown hair tied back. She smiles at me.
"Libby dear, you're up just in time! After grabbing something to eat you should go to your room and sort out what you would like to bring to the new house!"
"New house...?" I ask, voice slow.
She nods. "Yes, last night we looked into Birmingham and found a secondary and sixth-form college schools for you! And while we were on that we looked around the neighbourhood and just the perfect house was on the market so we couldn't just pass it up! Then-" She giggled at this. "don't tell your brother or anyone, but we used those muggle telephones to call the real estate agents, and bought it right there for the selling price! It even has three rooms, so you and Noah don't have to share when he visits!"
Dad comes into the living room in a t-shirt and jeans, which is the strangest thing I have yet to see this morning. Normally he is much more formally dressed, wizards usually are.
"Morning love," He says, going over to a stack of boxes and picking one up.
"Uh, morning, dad. How did you get to Birmingham? We don't have a car-"
Dad answers. "A cousin on your mum's side lives very close to the city, her house is connected to the Floo network too. From there it was only a fifteen minute walk, she even suggested the schools to us."
They seem way too happy about this. Leaving the magical English countryside for a muggle city just for me. "We don't have to do this, mum and dad, I don't know what I was thinking last night. I should just continue home-schooling, there's really no sense-"
"Pish!" Mum waves her hand. "We can visit Diagon Alley or any of our friends whenever we want, there's hardly a reason to stay on here if a change of scenery helps you. Besides, I've never got along with any of the old barmy's in this village."
So it happened just like that. We spent the entire weekend packing our things and bringing them over to Mrs. Cranks home, as she had been in possession of a vanishing cabinet for years. Our apparent relations near Birmingham had, according to my parents, brought the connecting cabinet to our new home. Dad had already had the fire pit in the new house temporarily connected to the Floo network to make the move easier, so while he is over there getting boxes from the vanishing cabinet mum and I are still here, piling them in every twenty or so minutes. Mum throws out practically anything that is charmed or connected to sorcery, neither of us make a note of her habit. Finally we are done, mum and I use the green powder to get to the new house and we are suddenly in Birmingham giving me an abrupt look at my new life, in a new home, a new city and nothing familiar left but my parents.
They will be the only magic I have.
A letter is sent to Noah about this. When he sends a response mum offers it to me so I can read it, but I refuse. I did not even want to look at his owl when she flew in through the open kitchen window. Averting my eyes all I can see anymore of anything to do with the bird is my mum giving her a few treats and cooing at her. When the barn owl leaves mum says I can get an animal of my own if I want, since Noah has one. I tell her about getting a kitten maybe and she smiles very warmly, agreeing with that plan. A week later a kitten is clutched in dad's hands and as soon as I see the cute little ragdoll kitten with its big blue eyes I giggle and pet his head. Dad gives him to me an I hold gently, as not to break the little darling.
I could not think of a name for him.
Dad suggested Phillip.
I liked it quite a lot.
During the summer Noah came for his visit. He was rather stiff as he came through. He's in his third year now, that means he got to go on a few trips to Hogsmeade for the first time. Then a few moments after he had stepped out of the fire pit I understand why. Another person appears into existence after him, a person that I do not at all recognize but also has on a grey sweater vest with blue and bronze outlines. Another young wizard from Hogwarts. Mum and dad seemed to have known about this and obviously they would, no matter how strong-headed Noah is he wouldn't bring someone here without telling them or against their wishes.
As soon as they see Noah they run up to hug him. Living apart from Noah for so long has given me a new appreciation for him as I sometimes forget how annoying he can be to live with, so normally I would have went to hug him too, but the boy standing less than a foot away from them keeps me at bay.
Noah steps back and looks at his friend. "Terry, these are my parents. Parents, this is my friend Terry," He introduces. I notice the crack in his voice from getting older, it sounds deeper than it used to with weird high pitched moments. Was it like that last year, too? "And this is my little sister Libby," He nods towards me, and I freeze. "She turned eleven in February,"
"Coming to Hogwarts then, next year?" Terry asks with a lopsided grin. He seems like one of those cool boys I watch on the telly sometimes. Now that I think of it I kind of actually like being allowed to use the telly, there are things in there Noah would never get to see. It's only in my room, too, because my parents aren't technically allowed to have one.
"We'll see," My dad says for me, and though his tone is friendly he is protective over me. It seems that Terry does not know that I am a Squib. He must know we live in Birmingham though, it's technically allowed for wizards to do so as long as we are careful about it. He must wonder why we would even live here, though.
"How come you're here?" I ask directly. Noah glares at me and mum gives me a 'now Libby' look and dad clears his throat to say something.
Luckily Terry does not seem bothered. "That's because, young miss, my parents so happen to be on vacation, travelling Asia for some reason or another," His light blue eyes twinkle when he speaks.
After a few more words with mum and dad they go upstairs with their luggage to Noah's room. We did the best we could to design his room like it used to be, posters of famous quidditch players on the wall, Ravenclaw flags pinned to the walls and texts placed nicely in book shelves. Of course when we packed his room those books had been strewn about the place, but mum said it would be untidy to just throw them around and he should take better care of them anyways.
"Libby, you know not to go and tell Terry about you being a Squib," Dad says.
"Why not?" It was not like I would forever be able to keep it a secret from every witch and wizard.
"Your brother didn't say anything, he might like to keep it that way,"
How is that any bit fair? Do I not even have control of who gets to know what I am? "That doesn't make any sense, Noah wouldn't have a right to tell anyone anyway! He's the one who gets to continue his life normally, why is everything always for his sake and never for mine?" I say loudly, not shouting so Terry won't hear.
Without waiting for an answer I dash up the stairs to my own room where Phillip and the telly are. He's not quite as small as he was when we first got him but he is still a kitty with tiny meows and a cute little fluffy head. Flicking the telly on I lay in front of it and Phillip comes to sit on my back, purring loudly and comfortingly. Mum and dad didn't follow me. I watch a few episodes of multiple programs I've never seen before and it slowly seeps in that I was a bit wrong about what I had said. Mum and dad ditched the magical world for me, in a matter of hours they built a new life for us in a world they had never been part of, unfamiliar with, so that I could feel better. Doing what they did for Noah was easy.
This isn't easy.
Still, I am upset that I'm a Squib, I'm upset that Noah gets to decide for me when he got all he ever wanted, and I'm upset that mum and dad just don't seem to understand that. How could they, when they were always magic? Maybe it would be better if I were a muggle, at least they don't know the wizarding world is real, they aren't jealous of anything. But I'm not jealous, I swear I'm not, I'm just so mad.
At supper, Terry and Noah talk about some bloke named Sirius Black. I'm not sure if I should care or not now that I'm without a doubt a Squib but when they mention how he's Harry's godfather I pay attention. Apparently he had been in Azkaban for years because everyone thought he had something to do with Harry's parents death. In the past year he had escaped and then made his way onto Hogwarts grounds, I didn't really know about this because I hadn't been keeping up with Noah's letters. Why does all this strange stuff keep happening at Hogwarts nowadays anyways? Last year Noah told us about how a giant snake awoke and was petrifying people, mum wanted him to stay home but dad convinced her Noah was going to be okay. Anyway Sirius had somehow made it out of Hogwarts and thankfully no one got harmed while he was there. It sounded a bit better than last year, at least. Still it's worrying how dangerous Hogwarts can be.
Mum said she didn't want to talk about those scandals because they make her too anxious so they started talking about other things instead. Noah offered to take me to the park the next day with Terry and they agreed, seeing as the boys are thirteen mum and dad suppose they can look after me well enough. I do not like being talked about as if I do not have a voice but I don't interrupt, because getting dad angry right now wouldn't do well for anybody especially since I'm not sure what he thinks of what I said earlier.
That night just before I go to bed, Noah stops me before I can enter my room. "Hey, Libs," He says in a soft way.
"What is it, Noah?" I ask nicely, a bit tired.
"I'm sorry I didn't want to share my magic with you,"
"Wah...?"
Just like that Noah plunged himself at me in a hug, dropping his head to rest against my shoulder and pulling me close. His shoulders shake a bit and my neck starts to feel a bit moist. He's crying right in my arms, and it's the first time I've seen him done so since he fell off his broom when he was ten and I was seven. I bring my hand up and brush my fingers through his hair, because I think he might like it and I know it's something mum would do.
"I'm so sorry..." He apologizes profusely, his voice wobbly.
"It's okay, it's fine Noah. I'm glad I couldn't hex you off your broom,"
A/N:
*updated* A guest review reminded me of something to do with Sirius so I changed the little bit that he was mentioned. I am bad at remembering canon. Anywho thankfully it doesn't really effect the story so the change isn't all that glaring :)
If you want more background on the Lawson family roots I suggest checking out Lawson: A Family History on my profile!
So this was going to be multi-chaptered (though a short story still) but now I kinda feel like this would be a lovely one-shot all it's own. If I get reviews telling me to continue or if I have the urge to I will. I think Muggles and Squibs can use portkeys and Floo powder just because those things are kinda magical objects themselves, and for passing through King's Cross I think Squibs might be able to and took artistic liberty with that since we're not really sure what Squibs can do differently from muggles. Cheers!