I do not own Harry Potter except for my OC
Chapter 1: An Unexpected Reunion
The office is bare and white except for plaques of degrees from Oxford and pictures of various English armed forces logos and promotional pictures of patriotism. In the middle of the room is a wooden desk with two men sitting across from one another and a bronze nameplate that says 'Dr. Harris.' One in a blue buttoned shirt and khakis with glasses and the other in a dark green canvas jacket, black shirt and jeans.
"So, Ed. How is your job going? Have there been any issues recently?"
'Ed' or Edward is a rather broad individual at around 6 ft. with short cut black hair, gray eyes, and a short beard growing in on his face.
He shrugs, scratching his facial hair. "It's fine. Well now that I think about it, just a few days ago I had a patron threatening to have me sacked just for throwing him out of the pub for punching someone over a dart game. But other than that, not really."
The shrink responds tiredly. "I'm not talking about issues within your job. I'm talking about your issues at work."
Edward glowers downwards for a moment but comes up chuckling. "What, my 'episodes'? I told you, I have them under control."
"Are you sure about that? Because your employer contacted me and told me that you threw him in the ground and started to throw punches to his head."
Edward looks down in shame, recoiling at the memory. After that guy threw that punch to his friend and got onto him, Edward saw this and all he can remember was his training and the many brutal skirmishes he was in that ended up in blood soaked close quarter combat. Next thing he knew he grabbed his shoulders from the back, threw him into the hardwood floor and went on top of him with a forearm on his neck, knee on his gut, and connected a single strike into his temple, but thankfully he was taken off and he came back to reality.
He looks at Edward with empathy. "It's been over a year since you got back to civilian life Ed. You knew and still know that it would be very hard to adjust." He continues, "These scars that you've collected over the years in the service and especially in the gulf will take a really long time to heal. And in order to do that you have to be honest with me as well as yourself."
Edward pauses for almost 10 seconds in silence before responding while grinning.
"Who knows, maybe after that display, tales will be spread among the customers of my exploits so they'll know not to piss off me or any of the other door supervisors there."
"Edward, this is serious. You could have lost your job."
He retorts back. "Yeah, but I didn't though, and besides I don't have to worry about hurting someone in the kitchens or storage."
"Maybe so." The doctor replies, "But that doesn't change the fact that you still have trauma to work through."
Edward is now starting to get irritated.
"Hey, that wasn't trauma, just a muscle reflex, okay?!" He snaps, "Any idiot in the royal armed forces, and especially a bloody commando would have done that if someone was hurting someone!"
Dr. Harris knows that he is trying to downplay this and as much as he wants to press this, he knows that he can't force it.
He looks at his watch and sees his hour is up.
"Alright Ed, times up."
The veteran quickly stands up and turns around, opening the door. But before he can leave he hears his doctor tell him, "I know you think that you don't need these sessions, but know that I and others will always be here to help you. And know that as a fellow royal, I'll always understand you."
Ed looks back and opens his mouth, stops and looks down before saying, "Okay."
He shuts the door.
The therapist sighs in exhaustion while stacking papers and notes into a caramel folder and closes it before putting it in the metal file cabinet.
On the tag of the folder it says 'Edward A. Black.'
Edward Arcturus Black, a 29 year old Royal Marine veteran is currently roaring and maneuvering his way through the masses of cars on his bike. The bike is a custom black and green 1989 GB500 with a small United Kingdom flag painted on one of the sides.
This was by far one of, if not the best purchases he ever made, as well as his pride next to being a proud "bootneck". He always wondered what his big brother's reaction would have been to see such a piece of machinery remembering all the posters of mean machinery he had in his room. He still remembers what he thought when he first acquired it.
'Jokes on him, the bastard will never see this.'
Head clad in a black helmet he is weaving through passing blurs of cars on the streets of Bristol. The loud blaring of the engine rattling around in his ears is sharing the space with the recent words that his shrink told him.
"Know that I and others will always be there for you."
That's a very nice sentiment but the only person he truly knows outside of Harris is one of his brother's friends but the last time he heard from him was an old Christmas card from a few years back and far longer since he saw him so there's gonna be a problem with that.
'Whatever. Not like we were close anyway.', he thought.
He quickly glances down at his watch seeing that he needs to get to the pub soon so they can show him around the kitchens and storage areas for the afternoon and later tonight. He shifts into a new gear and speeds down the road to his destination.
Flynn's Irish Pub. A decently sized establishment located between a bookstore and a flower shop. He has been working here for over a year since getting out of the service, and he honestly cannot complain. Money is decent, and just enough to pay rent for his flat. Edward stops his bike and gets off walking towards the side entrance from the alleyway. Before he opens the door he hears a glass bottle fall over and looks behind him and looks down at a gray striped tabby cat that is sitting next to the fallen glass, looking up at him.
He smirks, and slowly makes his way towards it and kneels down and starts scratching its head and hears it purring in contempt. "What are you doing out here?" he says in a playful voice. Animals were always a soft spot for him and always made his day better.
"If you're still here tonight I'll try to give you some scraps to eat, how about that?" He gets up and walks up to the door swinging it open and steps inside unaware of the intelligent look the tabby is giving him.
Hours later, far after the sun fell, dressed in a tight black shirt, a hairnet, gloves, and black pants is Edward Black currently scraping down the grill in the back of the pub with force and eyes hardened with concentration. For hours he has been frying meat, cleaning dishes, and storing packages of food and alcohol in the fridge, pantry, and freezer.
While several people would belly ache and be bitter about the change of employment, Black doesn't mind at all. This also isn't the first time he had to work in a kitchen so he would rather take this than be thrown out and try to find work elsewhere. He learned that there is no shame in doing grunt work. Someone has to get it done, so best to just do it. Also it is a bonus that he doesn't really need to talk with a lot of people like he did being a doorman having to check ID's and make calls on whether or not someone would cause problems.
He is no stranger to making hard calls, after all he was in the military and a Sergeant at that. After a long while of doing that, it feels nice to do some menial labor again, cause it gets to a point where it is just stressful having to make decisions for everyone. For now he is just going to enjoy his solace in the back of the pub.
But very soon that will end.
"Oy, Ed!"
Edward stops what he is doing and looks to his side and sees the bartender/owner Reggie who is standing in the doorway separating the kitchen and the public area. He is a fairly large individual with a gray beard, bald, and has tattoos going down his arms. To Ed he is one of his favorite people to work with. He is a very jovial and generous man who isn't afraid to throw hands when patrons cause trouble. Think Santa but can kick someone's ass.
"Yeah?", said Edward.
"Some old codger is sitting at a table wanting to speak with you." Said the bartender pointing backwards.
What?
Edward removes his plastic gloves and walks towards him saying, "Okay? Why?"
"I don't know, but he was rather insistent to speak with you claiming to know you. And-" He glances back in the restaurant and looks back towards him and tries to be quiet and says, "This bloke is in his pajamas so he might be off his meds, mate."
This truly made Edward's eyebrow raised
"Uhh, okay. Just wait here, I'll see what he wants."
He walks out the kitchen and out of a small hallway makes it to the main seating area. It's a nice roomy environment with pictures, art, tables, booths, and a bar. The best thing about the place is a stage where live music can be performed. It's 2 o'clock in the morning and the place is empty except for one man sitting at a small two person table.
Edward walks near him until he stops, his breath hitching.
Reggie was right, the man did look odd. Wearing purple robes and a matching hat with fancy patterns. He also has a long white beard and hair with half moon glasses on his nose.
Albus Dumbledore.
The greatest wizard of all time both in knowledge and in skill, the headmaster of one of the best wizarding schools and receiver of the Order of Merlin First Class and Supreme Mugwump is sitting at his pub.
The wizard turns to Edward smiling at him with a twinkle in his eye and says, "It is really good to see you again, Arcturus."
About 4 minutes later after awkwardly telling Reggie to leave them be and pouring himself a pint of Guinness and at Dumbledore's request of one as well, the two of them are sitting together, the pub's doorman/stocker is currently on his second glass.
"How did you find me?" As stupid as it is to ask that to a wizard like him Edward needs to know how.
Dumbledore smirks almost mischievously and says, "I have a friend who you met tonight who told me."
Edward blinks a few times in confusion before narrowing in suspicion. "Who?"
He smirks in amusement. "Chances are you will see them again, Arcturus."
The veteran wants to press more but deep down he knows he'll just get riddles in return so doesn't bother.
"Listen, no disrespect but I thought I made it clear to you and the rest of the Order in that letter that I don't plan on interacting with the magical community ever again." He takes another sip and also says, "Also I don't go by that name anymore, it's Edward now."
Albus nods. "I know and I completely understand and respect your decision Edward, however recent events have happened that required me to seek you out." Dumbledore responds with a seriousness which is rather unlike him from what Edward remembers. Dumbledore was always the easy going and wise mentor that always knew what to say to someone and only a handful of times has he heard about or seen him enraged or completely serious.
"What is it then?"
"Harry Potter completed his first year of Hogwarts a month ago."
…
Harry Potter. He hasn't heard of that name in years. He still remembered the first time he saw him, which was about a week or so after he was born. He remembered Lily and James looking absolutely exhausted but also very happy now having a child in their lives. Unfortunately by next year on Halloween that happiness ended…
His thoughts started turning dark but fortunately he shook himself out of that well of thought. He looked up and saw the sympathy and sadness in Dumbledore's eyes. "I know, we all miss them too. But he finally learned of them and is now at a place that is truly home." he says.
Edward nods and says, "Okay, well good. He's finally gotten to a place that he can thrive and is getting a good education. What house did he end up in?"
The old man smiles. "Guess."
Black smirks. "Gryffindor?"
"Yes. Just like his parents."
"Ha! That's good to hear." Edward says while also thinking to himself in triumph, 'His parents would be turning in their grave if he ended up in Slytherin, so good.'
"Okay." Edward continues while taking a sip. "As pleasant as it is to hear about him doing alright, what does this have to do with me?"
Dumbledore sips his own stout before he answers with steel in his normally soft eyes. "Voldemort has resurfaced."
Edwards freezes in fear hearing that name. It's been around 12 years since he was destroyed but his name still carried power and terror. He still remembers stories of his followers killing wizards for even uttering his name. That war was especially difficult for Edward personally, knowing he was on his long shit list at the time, just for existing.
"W-what? H-how?" He stammers out.
The wizard looks down in defeat. "I wish I knew, I had my suspicions that he was somehow alive but unfortunately they were confirmed."
Edward leans forward. "Tell me everything."
For the next 30 minutes or so the headmaster tells him about last year with Nicholas Flamel's fabled Philosophers Stone being hidden and locked deep in Hogwarts castle, and Quirrell the squirly Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who allied himself with Voldemort and through dark magic and using Unicorns blood allowed him to share a body with the dark lord which disgusted Edward hearing about this. Quirrell and Voldemort tried to steal the stone at Gringotts, and later at Hogwarts for Voldemort's purposes of getting a new body. But he was thankfully stopped by Harry and his new friends, one of Arthur and Molly Weasley's sons, and a brilliant Muggle born.
"Thankfully, Harry was alright but was very close to dying. If I'd gotten there a few minutes later I'm afraid he would've lost his life."
Edward is stunned listening to all of this. He knew that there would be some opposition towards Harry but not this soon at the place that's supposed to be the most safe and secure in the wizarding world. He also can't help but feel nervous knowing that You Know Who is trying to get to his former strength and power. He also feels relieved knowing that nobody got killed that year. 'Except Quirrell that is.' He thinks to himself now knowing that he was a traitor. Back in the service, he was always taught that deserters and traitors are the lowest of the low and should be treated as such which he heartedly agrees. Those who betray and leave their friends and comrades shouldn't even be called the dignity of soldiers.
"Why are you coming to me about all this?"
Dumbledore looks at him with determination in his eyes. "Because after this I realized that I need all the help I can get both in and out of the school. I knew that Harry was going to face opposition in his seven years at Hogwarts but after this I now know he's gonna need all the help he can get. I need people I can trust in the school keeping an eye on him and helping him when the time comes. I need someone like you. I would like for you to come work at Hogwarts to help look after him."
…
…
Edward is speechless, his mouth flopping open like a fish trying to find water. The fact that Professor Dumbledore of all people came to HIM for help is unbelievable. He drinks the rest of his pint and he replies.
"I- I don't know what to say. Why me? You know full well of what I am."
"I know what you are. You are a man that I know is trustworthy, as well as capable for this task. You spent so many years being trained in combat that almost all wizards have no idea how to counteract."
Edward opens his mouth to retort but stops seeing that Dumbledore is still talking.
"Whether or not you are a squib should never dictate your value. You denied it for years but I knew you were far more than what you credit yourself for back during our war with Voldemort. So please, will you help me? help us?"
Squib.
He absolutely despises that word.
Even though Dumbledore used it as a general term like the average wizard, that word always carried contempt and prejudice wherever it went and he could still feel it from all the insults that were thrown his way in his early life, whether some random knob from the Leaky Cauldron, to the average blood purist, and even from his own family. He would rather be called a muggle than a squib.
He wanted to say no and request Dumbledore to leave but all he can think about is Lily and James. Their warm smiles, their love and kindness. They were among the few wizards of the both the wizarding world, and the order who never thought of him as a squib. Instead they saw him as a true member of the Order of the Phoenix and a friend.
When he heard that they were murdered and that Harry stopped You Know Who, while the rest of the world celebrated his demise, he as well as the rest of the order were deep in grief knowing they lost the best of them. Not long after his brother of all people killed little Peter while revealing himself to be the snake that he was and then Remus left after that. He had lost pretty much everyone who cared about him and knew that his time was done there and decided to move to the muggle world.
He cringes a bit thinking that James and Lily would have hated to see him questioning whether or not to look over their child. But meanwhile he thought about all the insults and contempt that were given to him almost all his life. Going back is something that makes him shudder.
Seeing the visible mental battle going on in his head Dumbledore stands up.
"Don't worry, I won't pressure you for an answer right now considering this is a huge thing. I'll give you some time to decide and if you need me, you can send me a letter to hogwarts."
Edward nods.
The professor gets up and looks down at him with a smile.
"Thank you for the stout, it was very good. You know, if I wasn't a professor or headmaster I would have traveled all over trying every kind of food imaginable."
He reaches the door and looks back smiling.
"Good night, Edward. It was really good to see you again."
He leaves.
Edward stays there seated in silence for a long while before he gets up and puts the glasses away and closes up the pub.
At about 4 in the morning he made it back to his small flat absolutely exhausted. He begins to shower and during this process he begins thinking about his old friends. 'Lily and James would want their child to be safe. Walking away from this would be the shittiest thing you would do. You owe it to them. And Voldemort needs to be stopped. Truly.'
He gets out and gets dressed in some loose junky clothes and brushes his teeth.
'But how? I can't do magic, I could easily get killed.'
He crawls into bed and turns off the light sitting while waiting for sleep to take hold. He lifts his left arm brushing his fingers on the underside where a tattoo is visible in the moonlight. The tattoo is one of the logos of the commandos. A knife with a banner that is around the handle that says 'Per Mare, Per Terram.' and the word 'Commandos' below the tip of the blade. The motto of the marines. The commandos.
By land, by sea.
He got it a week after he completed his training.
He was trained to take on any task, to complete whatever mission given to him no matter the cost or difficulty. He remembers the grueling runs, the shooting drills, the combat training. He remembers the strength he built over the years and remembers those he fought on the battlefield with all his strength and speed and came out victorious. The thrill he felt at feeling strong was so powerful.
Seeing all this made him fill up with pride and ignited a small flame that soon turned into a big fire.
He made his decision.
He laid his head down on the pillow.
'I'll show them.' He thought.
'I'll show them all what a squib is capable of.'
He then falls asleep.
I had this idea floating around in my head for a while and I had to write this and I hope this story turns out good. I feel like Squibs are totally underused in the Harry Potter world and I would love to show some insight to how a squib experiences the wizarding world and what they could truly do. If you have any thoughts or comments, throw them in the review link below. After this I'll continue with my Hazbin fic.
See you later,
Azrael-50
