A Magical Muggle

The Fifth Chapter

The end of my third year saw me, for the first time ever excited to go back to the orphanage - to visit Victoria for the last time becasue she would be starting Hogwarts next year, I was so completely sure of it. I'd already deduced she would be a Slytherin alongside me - I'd tell her on the train how Slytherin was the best house, but all the Black family had been in Slytherin and I didn't think she was any different. My friends, my classmates, those I surrounded myself with said their goodbyes to me, promised to write - which they would though I never replied and I was dragging my trunk to where I would meet the driver.

I travelled between the Orphanage and train station by a town car provided, I'd been told by the driver, by the school governers, and I made short work of pulling the trunk from the back of the car and dragging it through the gate of the orphanage, up the front steps and into the dingy hall.

Mrs Cole was in her office. She didn't look up as she called a welcome home. "Victoria is in her room." She told me, correctly assuming I wanted to see the girl, and I knew she wanted to see me and I left my trunk in my own room on the way to see her.

The metal braces were no longer on her legs, nor were they in their place besides the bed, I knew she would be better once she discovered she was magical too. She smiled at me from where she was sitting on her bed. I assumed just as excited to share her news as I was to hear it.

"Hello Tom." Victoria said softly, though she was pleased. I smiled at her.

"Did you get a letter?" I asked her. She looked surprised.

"Did you write me?" She asked, "It musn't have come yet."

"No, no, for your birthday, come on Victoria Smith I want to see your letter." I insisted, barely containing my excitement now. She looked confused, and that then confused me becasue the emotion was genuine.

"Victoria," I said slowly, "You're parents were the Blacks, you're a witch, you should have gotten a letter; your Hogwarts letter; your eleventh birthday."

She shook her head, and I saw something I'd never ever seen before. She was angry with me. "Thats not your business, Tom, it's my secret and you shouldn't know that." She spat, I was taken aback by her tone, she'd never used a tone like that before, least of all with me.

"Its who you are, you're a Black, Victoria-"

"No, no I am not Tom, I haven't been a Black for a long time, before my parents left me here, even." She said shortly, now she was upset, and I felt as though maybe I should apologise to her, but I dismissed the thought - I'd done nothing wrong. I was about to argue more, tell her that it doesn't change her being a witch but the bells for dinnertime rang, I made to leave though she called to me, despite her anger, which was deflating. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, I shouldn't keep secrets from my best friend. You understand that I will though, like you keep secrets from me."

Worded like a question though it wasn't one, I smiled so she new she was forgiven. I waited for her now, we would go to dinner together. "Could you help me, Tom please?" She asked, she was pointing across the room to an odd contraption, metal and fabric, I passed the large square to her and she pulled it, but wasn't strong enough. There were two handles and I pulled them apart. A seat folded out, a wheel either side. She crawled into the chair, using her arms to place her legs on the steps.

"No." I muttered frowning at her, even weaker than before. "No, no Victoria stand up!" I demanded. She flinched at the order.

"Tom, I can't" She said gently. I breathed in a ragged breath, I felt as though I couldn't get enough air, I wiped an itch in the corner of my eye and my fingers came away wet. "I'm sorry Tom, don't cry, please." She begged me but I felt I couldn't stay around her any longer and ran from the room.

I don't know how she got up and down the stairs for dinner, I don't know how she did it with a plate for me but she did. After dinner she was there, wheeling into my little bedroom with a plate of rationed food on her knees.

"You knew I was sick." She said, passing me the food. I'd been crying, but had stopped now and wouldn't cry about it again, crying made me feel weak, and I could not be weak.

"You're a witch, though. Witches aren't so weak."

"I'm a squib." She corrected, I frowned at the unfamilliar word. "It means I was born with no magic, Tom why did you think my parents would leave me here?"

"I didn't know." I said, and indeed every theory I'd come up with the sweet little girl had dispelled within two weeks of my knowing her. She grabed my hand and held it. I didn't know what to think of the contact. "How... how long?" I asked, meaning how long had she been in the wheelchair - I showed her I meant this by pointing to the damned contraption.

"A few weeks." She said, "I've been in and out of it before then though. Miss Murdock wanted me to get used to it." She was still holding my hand. "I hate it." She admitted softly. "And I'm scared."

I didn't know what to make of this, if anything, scared of what? The wheelchair? I was still reeling from her defining herself as a squib. And my own dissapointment at knowing I wouldn't have her at Hogwarts with me from now on.

"Tom?" She asked, and I looked at her.

"Don't be scared," I said, "I'll protect you."