Hogwarts School - Summer

It was a lovely morning. Warm, but a slight breeze to keep it cool. She decided it was the perfect day for reading in the garden. The marvelous fountain in front of her, the tower and Notre Dame nearby, it nearly felt like the real thing.

The summer was halfway gone. The beginning had been nice, but the past few days had been a whirlwind. There was all that drama that had happened at the party for the twins, but she was sure not to get anywhere near it. Then the boy in the Infirmary, and Jeremiah getting upset, and the movie… She needed a day like today to just unwind from it all.

“Did you hear about the Fetterquip boy? Never got his letter. Deplorable, if you ask me,” I hear my mother say before pausing to sip her tea. “Not only that, but they're still proud of him.”

My mother is in the next room, having tea with her longtime friend, Mabel.

“There's some bad blood in them if you ask me. They say they're pureblood, but I doubt it. They just don't fit in,” I hear Mabel say. “Lord knows what I'd do if something like that happened to me.”

“I would never dare to have a squib in my house, family or not. Can you imagine what people would say?”

I'm in the other room, supposed to be playing. But, I can't help but overhear the two talking. I haven't shown any magical tendencies yet, unlike my brother, who has been been doing things since he was a baby. My birthday is coming up, and I'm worried I won't get my letter. My mother thinks squibs are no better than muggles, if not worse. They're social outcasts, and my mother won't let that happen to her. If  I don't get my letter, I won't have a home, a family, anything.

I start crying, but try to stifle my sobs. I'm too late, though.

“What is that--? Hold on, Mabel...”

My mother walks in the room, and looks agitated. “You're not hurt, you've no reason to cry.” Her voice is stern, yet quiet. “Now, get back to your playing.” I watch as she heads back to Mabel. My mother has always been stern with me, while babying Killian, my brother. Sometimes I wonder if she has the same suspicions I do about my magical ability.

I try not to listen or cry as the two ladies go on about how terrible squibs are, and boast about how great my brother is.

 “What about Olette?” I hear Mabel's voice in a loud whisper. I know she's trying to make sure I don't hear, but she doesn't have a quiet voice.

“Oh, she's fine. Her letter will come in February.” My mother's tone is rushed and she quickly changes the subject to Mabel's own children. She knows.