Disclaimer: Mrs. Rowling and Warner Bros. have the rights to the Harry Potter universe. I own my characters (the people whom you will not recognize, unless they bear a distinct resemblance to a real person, at which point I will insist that any resemblance to a real person is completely accidental and unintentional), my plot (which works its way through any loopholes J.K. Rowling has left for hopeful young fan-fiction writers), and anything else you've never heard of (which you know for a fact does not exist in any other book).
Chapter 1: Hogwarts Summer
I think it started way back when I was eleven. It was the year that Hogwarts sent out all of the letters of acceptance, and I was pining away for mine. Ravenclaw was my life. Mum and Dad had gone there, Uncle Jeff had been a beater on the team, and my big brother Raymond had been sorted into the house two years ago. I had even knitted my own scarves in the official Ravenclaw colours – my obsession ran to the extent of begging Raymond to bring home a piece of the common room. It was the first of many requests that he did not oblige.
It was late June – the beginning of Hogwarts Summer, as Mum called it. I could vaguely remember Hogwarts Summer from two years before. Raymond had received his letter by owl post. We had all expected it. My big brother had been cursing the garden gnomes since he could hold a wand. Ray was sure to become a Ministry wizard; perhaps even the Minister himself. Or a professor. But I didn't want Ray to become a professor. My reasoning was that if he worked his way into the Ministry of Magic, he could get me free samples from Zonko's and first-rate seats for the Quidditch World Cups.
So on this breezy June afternoon, I was sitting in the garden, nursing a mug of iced tea. For weeks I had been reading up all of Dad's old spell-books and trying to turn a geranium into a spotted fig, but I hadn't quite managed it yet. I believe I was attempted something called Transfiguration. Mum came out into the garden with a tray of cookies and more iced tea. As I glanced up from my book to make some remark of welcome, her foot caught on the garden hose and she tripped.
I leapt up from my chair and stretched out my hand towards her. For a split second, it felt like time paused and we both stared into each other's eyes. If there was a time that my magic would appear, this was it, and we both knew it. A funny tickle ran down the back of my neck, and time unfroze.
Mum crashed to the ground and I stood there, staring at her. The iced tea came flying down next, and then the cookies, one by one. Last came the tray, which bounced off the side of her head. Mum fainted, although I'm not sure whether it was the tray or my lack of visible aid. I immediately rushed inside the house and got Dad, who contacted the Wizarding Emergency Service. Mum was diagnosed with shock and a mild concussion. My earliest doubts began to appear that day. I think Mum realized it as well.
To be fair, she never told Dad what had really happened – about me standing there and not being able to help her. But my time of hiding was nearly up – Raymond was due to come back, and I had no idea of the significance of his return.
We all trooped down to meet him at King's Cross. The station was packed with squealing tots and anxious mothers. Quite a few younger siblings like myself were there too. I remember spotting Midgie MacClellan, a neighbour and friend of mine.
"Midgie!" I yelled, waving her over. She ran up to us, a huge grin across her face.
"Elinor!" she yelled back. I covered my ears. "How're you doing?" she added, in a slightly milder tone of voice.
"Good," I answered. "You?"
"Well as well can be," she
answered cheerily. "Guess what?" she said, starting to dance about on the tiled
platform floor.
"What?" I asked.
"Guess," she insisted, twirling her long and curly brown hair in one hand.
"Mab" – her cat – "had kittens?" I suggested.
"Nope," said Midgie. "Guess again."
"Mab got sick?" I asked.
"Nope," said Midgie. "Guess a – "
"Just tell me!" I cried, annoyed. Midgie always had this awful habit of keeping me guessing forever.
"I've been accepted into Hogwarts," Midgie sang, prancing about like a delusional kitten.
"Good," I said, trying to muster up a smile. It really hurt that I hadn't been accepted – of course, my magic hadn't shown up yet, but chances were good. My entire family was wizarding stuff, although we lived in the Muggle world. Being educated in Muggle had been proven not to be detrimental to being a witch or wizard.
"Aren't you glad!" she grinned. "I hope we get the same house!"
"Me too," I said hopelessly. I stared at the floor, and noticed that my shoelaces were untied. Fortunately for me, the Hogwarts Express chose to arrive at that moment, so we were both engulfed in a thick fog of steam. I used the steam as an excuse to hurry back to my parents.
Soon enough, Raymond's head poked through the steam and he dashed over to us, waving madly. "Mum! Dad! Elinor!" he shouted.
Most unfortunately, Raymond knocked one of the owl cages off a trolley that was being pushed towards him. The young owner of the owl screamed and Raymond scrambled to retrieve the cage. But even more unfortunately, the trolley wheel caught on the cage and released the latch. The owl came barreling out of the cage, straight at… me.
I also screamed as the owl clawed at my face, and in my struggle to rid myself of the maddened creature, I lunged forward in the vague direction of my brother.
Had I been a normal wizarding child, none of the following would have happened. I would have been perfectly safe. Instead, my shoelaces – I always neglected to tie them – got caught in the wheels of another trolley. The confusion caused several more trolleys to crash, which sent me dangerously and unwittingly close to the edge of the platform. The owl screeched some more, and I did not see or hear the trolley coming at me. It slammed into my stomach and I tipped backwards onto the rails.
I heard a clunk, which may have been my own head smashing onto the metal rails, and then something very heavy and sharp landed on top of me. The next thing I remember is waking up in a large, white room.
"Elinor?" asked a gentle voice. "Elinor?"
I opened my eyes onto a very blurry world, which slowly came into focus. The woman leaning over me looked rather like my mother. She was wearing a large purple blur, and there was a small brown blur that looked suspiciously like a table to her left.
"Mum?" I asked, out of habit.
"Oh, Elinor!" the woman sighed, and the worried look on her face was replaced by a smile.
"Where am I, Mum?" I asked weakly.
"St. Mungo's, darling," she told me.
I pushed that to the back of my mind and tried to remember what had happened. A pressing question suddenly came to my attention.
"Mum, can I still go to Hogwarts?" I asked. I still wasn't thinking in chronological order.
The worried look returned. "Well…" she said hesitantly. "You've been in a coma, darling. The nurses had to use expert magic to put the pieces – to patch you up, I mean."
"Has my letter come yet?" I asked, more insistently. I was worried too. The fall from the platform was slowly coming back to me. Expert magic meant that my own magic hadn't worked, and for someone who had never used magic before, life and death experiences always stimulated it. I was very worried indeed.
I managed to turn my head and dizzily glance at the night-table next to Mum. There were no white envelopes with red seals sitting on it.
"It's November 26th, now, dear," said my mother very kindly.
I closed my eyes and tried not to cry. Despite my efforts, a tear squeezed out.
I was a Squib.