I disembark from the train without a moments hesitation, though I will regret it afterwards. I wish I had paused a moment to appreciate my last moments in the wizarding world before arriving in the Muggle train station, but I didn't, I was too nervous, preoccupied by the feel of my new jeans, my muggle blazer –what was wrong with robes?!- and dragging my heavy nonmagical suitcase. I bit my lip and looked around, and someone stepped on the back of my foot and yelled at me to get a move on.
My name is Kenya Filch and like my father, I'm a squib. I have silver eyes and brown hair, which I've always kept short. When I was younger people used ot mistake me for a boy, but now at age 15 i've grown into a curvy, hourglass figure that would send boys running if my lack of magic didn't send them running the other way. Maybe that will change now that I'm a muggle.
Some squibs will live their lives in the wizarding world, taking odd jobs and surviving, as my father parents forced him to do. They refused to let a son of theirs enter the muggle world, so he ended up mopping up vomit in Hogwarts, like a common house elf, or so he complains. He gave me a different choice. So i now im standing in the muggle train station, set to go live with another squib my father knows, Arabella Figg, armed with muggle books and clothes and a single robe stuffed into the bottom of my bag. I haven't got a owl. I don't know how I'll write to my father, but maybe Mrs. Figg will have one.
"Kenya? Kenya!" I turn around. A sweet looking older woman in a sweater is waving at me and grinning cheerfully. I return the wave tentatively.
"Mrs. Figg?" I ask. She nods.
"That's me, dear! It's so nice to see you at last!"
I smile at her and drag my bag over. She gives me a warm hug and instructs me to follow her to her car. I do, gazing around and taking in the sights of the busy muggle train station.
Mrs. Figgs car is an old Beatle VW which I recognize from my obsessive cramming on muggle culture in the last two months. It's as adorable as it is old and bung up. I toss my suitcase into the back and climb into the passanger seat.
"It's great to have you here, dear" Mrs fig says cheerfully "I know it'll be a bit of an adjustment, but it'll be so nice to have another squib in the house at last"
"Yeah, I'm glad Father could find someone for me to live with… I wouldn't want to go live with muggles." I say. Mrs Figg is so cheerful that for a moment I've forgotten my nervousness, though I'm still not sure how I feel about wearing pants. Mrs Figg smiles at me and turns the car on.
On the way back to my new home, I stare out the window while Mrs. Figg chatters about her cats and her garden and the neighbor boy whom, she immediately shuts up and says she cant say anything else about him, but before I can ask what she means she starts talking about the book club she attends at the library and how they have the most interesting book their reading right now, and really I should just take a look at it it's a fascinating story! I smile, lulled by her chatter. It seems to take a long time in the muggle car to reach Pivet Drive, but finally around sunset we pull into a short driveway, lined with flowers, that leads up to a cute and cozy white house. A cat is sitting on the porch. It flicks its tail distainfully at me and rolls over.
Mrs. fig heads inside, and I drag my suitcase in behind her. The house smells of cat. She tells me that my room is down the hall, so I drag my suitcase down there and push open the door. This is the third room I've lived in. When I was younger, I lived with my father in Hogwarts. I helped him clean sometimes, but for the most poart I hung out in the kitchen and made friends with house elves. I stayed out of the way of the bigger children, but the teachers thougth that I was cute.
When I turned eleven, and I didn't get my letter, I returned to our small apartment one day to find that Father had packed up all of my belongings into a small trunk, and that my Aunt was already waiting in Hogsmede for me to move in. He said I wasn't to live the life he did, and that I needed a woman to raise me. I wasn't allowed to say goodbye to anyone, and an hour later I was on my way to Hogsmede.
I had grown up playing with the children of hogsmede, on weekends and summers, but when I was moving in, they were moving out. The children my age were now heading off to Hogwarts to learnt to be young witches and wizards, while I would spend my year working in my Aunts shop. I saw them sometimes, when they came to visit, but they didn't talk to me. I was homeschooled by my Aunt in wizarding things, and I found out that my Father had arranged for me to be sent muggle schoolbooks. i studied them, fascinated.
Now at fifteen, I was being given my first opportunity to live a normal life. My aunt had met a man named Arther Weasley, who was facintaed by muggle life, and told her all about it. He mentioned that he had a cousin who was a squid, and lived as a muggle, and somehow six months later, I ended up unpaking my suitcase in a small triangular room with paisley wallpaper and carpet of indeterminate color, stuffing my things into the closet while avoiding the tabby cat under my feet.
"Kenya! I've made cookies!" Mrs. Figg calls. I give the cat a gentle nudge with my foot and walk down the hall towards the living room. Mrs. Figg has set out a tray of warm chocolate chip cookies, and a blue chipped vase of daises.
"Thank you, they looks wonderful, Mrs. Figg." I say politely. She scoffs.
"Oh, it's nothing dear, but thanks anyway. And do call me Aunt Arabella! Remember I'm suppsed to be your great aunt you're coming to live with!" she chides me
"Right, sorry, thanks Aunt Arabella!" I say. I reach for one and am just about to eat it when the doorbell rings. If it is possible for a doorbell to sound impatient, this one sounds impatient.
"I'll get it." Mrs. Figg, or Aunt Arabella, says, standing up. I follow her anyway.
"I hear theres some new child living here." The woman at the dorr sniffs the moment Autn Arabella opens it. She is tall and thin and looks down her nose at us. "My name is Petunia dursley. I've brought you a casserole." she thrusts the casserole into Aunt Arabella's hands and stands there, craning her neck to get a look at me. I shrink under her judgemental stare.
"Thank you, petunia." Aunt Arabella says politely. "It smells wonderfull."
"Yes, thank you!" I chime in, suddenly aware that I've been staring at the muggle woman. She gives me a nod.
"How old are you, anyway?" She asks
"Fifteen."
"I have a son around your age. I'll send him over to welcome you into the neibhood sometime. Arabella assures me that you are a nice, normal young lady." she says. i stare at her in bewilderment.
"she is." Aunt Arabella assures her firmly. "A nice, normal young lady. I'm sure you'll all get aloing with her just fine." Petunia dursley sniffs and gives me a look.
"Well, I should certainly hope so." With that, she turns on her heel and marches down the front driveway back to her house. Aunt Arabella rolls her eyes as she closes the door.
"Don't mind her, dear, Petunias always been a nosy one. The casserole does look lovely though. How about this for dinner?"
"Sure." I pause "Aunt Arabella, would you mind if I walked around the neighborhood a bit before dinner? I saw a nice park down there I wouldn't mind taking a look at."
"Of course, dear! Here, take these," Aunt Arabella grabs a cloth bag off the counter and scoops a dozen cookies into it before shoving it into my hands. "go have a nice time! It's been a long day."
"Thank you!" I scoot out the door with the cookies in my hand. Outside, it's quiet. The sun is setting and few people are outside, though the occasional muggle car drives through. I stroll down the sidewalk, chewing on a cookiw and trying to get my thoughts in order. Before long I arrive at the park, a small, trinangular oatch of green surrounded by tall oaks, with a set of rusty playground equipment in the center, painted bright primary colors over the rust.
I set down my cookies and take a look up one of the trees. I haven't climbed a tree in years: I used to climb the trees all the time in the forest by Hogwarts, but the few in hogsmede weren't big enough for any serious climbing.
well, always time to remedy that. i push up my sleeves, and, taking hold of a low branch, I stick my foot against the tree and pull myself up.
Halfway up the tree, I'm laughing. Theres sap in my hair and my jeans are too tight, I'd prefer a robe, cuts on my hands and I'm laughing because i haven't climbed a tree in years, when I grab a thin branch that turns out to be even thinner than i thought. With a crack, I find myself falling backwards towards the ground.
"Oomph!" I land in a pair of thick arms and the boy who caught me and I both fall to the ground, rolling over each other. I sit up, flushed red, but he seems to shrug it off. He climbs to his feet and offers me his hand to helo me up. I take it, still pink with embaressment. his hand is soft and broad and warm, and he is eating one of my cookies.
"I'm so sorry about-" I start to say. He waves it off.
"S'ok." He says through a mouthful of my cookie. "m'pretty tough. An'your pretty cute so it works out." I blush, no boys ever called me cute before. Oh, they've looked at me, and wolf whistled sometimes, but a squid isn't someone you take home to momma. The muggle boy grins at me.
"M'dudley. who're you?"
"I'm Kenya. I just moved down the street." I tell him. "Are you Petunias son? She said she had a son about my age."
"Thas'me." he finished the cookie and licks his fingers. "Nice cookies." I laugh.
"well, you did rescue me. I guess you're entiltled to some cookies." He picks up the bag and helps himself to another one, offering me one as well. I accept it, and we walk over towards the rusty playground equipment, where he sits down. I join him.
"You coming to our school this fall?" He asks after a moment of silence. I nod very quickly and realize i probably should have said something. Dudley doenst look like the talkative type, and fi I expect him to hold up this conversation i might as well take a vow of silience.
"Oh, yes!" I say "I've been someschooled before, so I'm a little nervous about starting a new school-" I barely managed to stop myself from saying "muggle school", I have to be more careful about that- "-but I hope it'll be nice."
"Where'r you going, then?"
"Saint adams Academy. It's suppsed to be qurite nice..."
"It oughta be!" Dudley looks offended that I've even questioned the inherent wonderfulness of Saint Adams Academy. "S'where i go!"
"Oh, really?" I blush again, dammit, why am I doing that? "Well, maybe i;ll see you there, then."
"M' on the wrestinling team." He informs me "M' the champion."
"Wow."
"Yea, 's pretty cool. Me 'n my crew, ya can hang out with us sometime, since yer new."
"Ok!" I say brightly. I've never really had many friends before: I'm not sure how muggles make friends, but I hope they'll like me.
"cool. " he doesn't say anything else for a moment, then: "It's eight olclock, my mum'll have dinner."
"Oh, my aunt oght to as well. I guess we should be getting back." I say. He nods, and stands up, brushing cookie crumbs off his pants. He reaches out and offers me his hand and helps me up. We walk back down the road, and he carries the now-epty cookie bag for me. at his house, he hands it back to me and waves, heading down his driveway.
"See you tomorrow!" I call, just as he shuts the door. There is a pause, then he opens the door back up a crack and peeks out, giving me a thumbs up. I giggle, and when I arrive back at Aunt arabellas house she goives me alook like im on drugs.
The rest of the evening passes in relative peace. I read my book, a muggle love story, and stroke a succsenion of cats that sit down beside me. Finally, I bid aunt arabella goodnight and head off to bed.
It's only as I'm drifting off to sleep that my thougths catch up to me.
Not once today has Mrs. Figg mentioned muggles, or magic. I wonder if she even notices. I wonder if I'll forget someday, if I'll think about book clubs and boyfriends and nosy neihbors and not wonder what Hogwarts house I would have been in any more. If one day I'll be cleaning out a closet with my muggle vacume cleaner and I'll come across an old black robe that I once stuffed in the corner of my suitcase, will I fold it up and put it back, or will I wonder why I even kept it, will I throw it away? Will I bother to tell my children of another world that they will never be allowed into?
I've had a good day, but I cry myself to sleep.