AN: Omg! I'm shocked at the response chapter 1 got. This is my first ff. Well as long as you don't count that horrible Hanson fanfiction I wrote when I was like 12...yeah let's forget that one. My chapters will be short. Hermione will be making an entrance soon I promise. She's being difficult at the moment lol.
Disclaimer: I'm not JKR and I'm not getting paid.
The next day, Greg awoke to a persistent tapping. He groaned as he picked his head up from the awkward angle it had fallen to and lifted his large frame up from the study chair. With no idea where his wand was, he was forced to shuffle slowly over to the window with bleary, half open eyes. His foot knocked over an empty Odgen's bottle as he pulled back the curtain and unlatched the window with one hand. Meanwhile, he braced himself against the dark paneling of the wall with the other hand for fear of falling over. Even so, the entire room looked to be spinning.
A large brown barn owl hooted impatiently as Greg fumbled with the parchment attached to the creature's outstretched leg, flying away with an angry squawk as soon as it was relieved of its burden. Greg winced and gently rested his head against the wall. "Izzy, a hangover potion please," Greg called out with a whispered rasp. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself off the wall and shuffled back to the chair. Just before he reached his destination, his foot found a different sort of object on the floor: a long, slim stick. As his bare foot rolled over the object, he uttered a string of curse words that were very unbecoming for a wizard of his status.
At least he'd found his wand.
Easing himself back into the black leather armchair, he closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the chair, waiting for his elf to bring the relief he so desperately needed. After his mother had left the previous evening, he had let his emotions flow. He had cried, cursed and raged before ultimately calling upon his two best friends, firewhisky and Theodore Nott.
Theo had suggested that Greg write to the only other person who could either protect Lena or order Irma Besenmacher Goyle to leave her in Greg's care: his uncle Gunther. The only problem was, the few times he had seen his mother's family from Germany, they had seemed cold and completely uninterested in him.
His grandmother, much like his mother, had always been ashamed of Greg's delayed display of magic and poor academic performance. She, therefore, gave him little attention, preferring to pretend that her only grandson did not exist. His grandfather didn't speak a word of English, but he didn't need to. If looks could avada, Greg would have been dead at age five when he had accidently spilled pumpkin juice all over himself. No, the only time his grandfather ever acknowledged him was to send glares in Greg's direction. Visits with the Besenmachers had been few and far in between when he was younger, but they had halted all together when it was discovered the Goyle daughter was a squib. Irma Goyle had shamed both the house of Besenmacher and the house of Goyle by birthing what they considered to be an abomination.
Shortly after going no-contact, an outbreak of Dragonpox in Germany took his grandparents' lives and left his Uncle Gunther head of the Besenmacher family. Since Irma was no longer married, she fell under his rule. If Gunther told Irma to leave Lena with Greg, she would have no choice but to obey. He doubted his uncle would take Lena in. Greg had met Gunther once a few Christmases ago, and he was almost the opposite of his parents and sister; he was good natured, cracked jokes, and even interacted with Greg without scolding or belittling. However, even he ignored the fact there was a second child at Goyle manor.
There was a soft pop.
"Master, here is your potion you wanted." The elf bowed so low his ears and pointy nose touched the ground, his hand outstretched with a vial of a pale blue liquid.
Greg took the vial, uncorked it, and downed it in one large gulp. He sighed in relief as it quickly took effect. The nausea and spinning sensation vanished, and Greg replaced the cork, handing the now-empty bottle back to Izzy. "Thank you. Where's Lena?"
"Miss is in the garden with Poppy. They are weeding the flower beds, Master," Izzy replied in a high squeak.
"And Theo?"
"Master, Nott also requested a potion. He is in the dining hall with Madame Nott. Izzy has made lunch for Master and his friends," the elf replied.
"Thank you, Izzy. Now, please get Lena cleaned up for lunch, and let the Notts know I will be down soon." Izzy bowed and popped away to do as she was told.
Greg looked at the letter in his hand. He closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer to any deity who would listen that his uncle would agree to help him. He opened his eyes and looked down at the seal. Two brooms crossed over a cauldron. Greg broke the black wax and opened the parchment.
An meinen Neffen Greg,
Greg sighed, leaning over to pluck his wand up off the floor before pointing it at the letter.
"Legit in anglicus voce."
In a quiet voice that only Greg could hear, the letter was now being translated and read aloud to him.
To my nephew Greg,
I am happy to hear from you, and am glad to know you are well. I am sorry for all that you have had to deal with over these past few years. If I can be of any help with learning house business, then I'd be more than happy to visit for a few days and see what we can do about the mess your father left. However, there is only so much you have control of.
That brings me to your request. Unfortunately, I am deeply sorry, but no, your sister cannot come here, and I do not think staying in the magical world is good for her or the family either. I want you to know that I do not agree with how squibs were disposed of in the past, nor do I shame your mother for having her or you for wanting the best for her. Irma takes after our mother, and I can only imagine how you have been raised. I am honestly surprised she is still allowed in the manor. I heard whispers that your father hoped she would be a late bloomer like you. Not for love of his daughter mind you, but in hopes of aligning with a wealthy family through an arranged marriage. I did catch a glimpse of her a few summers ago, and I think she will turn into a beauty like your mother. Hopefully with a sunnier personality.
You told me you think Irma will just leave her on the muggle street to fend for herself? Possibly. The most that I can do for you and Lena is to write to Irma and tell her that your sister should be left in a safe location. Somewhere she can be taken care of and not accidentally reveal her true heritage to the more soft-hearted "progressives" of the wizarding world. No doubt that would bring even more bad publicity to your family, publicity that your reputation cannot withstand.
I will have our solicitor look into possible options for your sister. You said that Irma would return in a week for her, so there is still time to find somewhere suitable. I will even set up an account for her expenses until she comes of age in the muggle world. However, I must ask that you permanently cut all ties with the girl. We do not belong in the muggle world, and she does not belong here. I'm sorry nephew, but those are my wishes. It is what is best for everyone involved.
With great affection, Uncle Gunther
P.S. Did your father ever arrange a bride for you? If not, I can put you in touch with several eligible German witches… or even a few widows, if that's more to your taste. Please advise.
Greg balled the letter up in his hand, pointed his wand at the empty fireplace and cast a vicious "Incendio!" with an angry jab, tossing his last hope of keeping his sister with him into the roaring flames.