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Harry Potter Squib Tales Chapter 19
🕑 Added 2023-09-04 17:12:34 +0000 UTCChapter 19: Down the Alley (Part 2)
Saturday morning dawned nice and bright, a perfect day to go out and stroll through a magical wonderland. I sighed into my coffee, drained it dry in a single gulp, and got ready to go pick up Harry.
I put on two rings, including the one I’d been working on when Harry showed up. It was one of my more ambitious rune projects. The ring itself was a complicated piece of work as well, and not just the rune sequence I’d spent months studying. It was actually two pieces of metal careful put together that I could twist, so that the runes on both sides would align, creating a powerful runic sequence that would temporarily give me enhanced perception and reaction time. Basically, I made a ring that let me do bullet time.
It put a large strain on the body, though, so I could only use it for ten real world seconds at a time, though it felt like it was closer to a minute based on my altered perception.
This whole study was part of my desire to figure out a way to manipulate time itself with runes. As much as I wanted a Time Turner, I didn’t have the desire to deal with temporal paradoxes and time loops, which were basically built into the Time Turner itself. You couldn’t go back more than a day, and you couldn’t change the past at all. Essentially, once used you were created a stable time loop that refused to decay no matter what you did. Very clever, but useless for me since I’d have to constantly keep track of all my loops to avoid going mad.
My ultimate goal was to create a Hyperbolic Time Chamber, similar to one used in Dragon Ball, but I was very, very far off from it.
“Inky, keep watch over the house, the potions, and Duncan, please,” I requested as I put on my shoes. “And don’t forget to tell my mother I’ll be stopping by tomorrow to visit her and the Weasleys.”
“Yes, Young Master Eddy!” Inky said cheerfully, sounding rather spry for such an old elf.
I left the apartment and caught the bus to Privet Drive, where I picked up Harry without a fuss. He was waiting for me on the doorstep, and for a moment I was worried his aunt or uncle had kicked him out or something, but no, he was just excited to go shopping again and meet other soon-to-be students.
“Easy there, Harry,” I said with a laugh as I watched him vibrate in place on the bus bench. “You won’t miss ‘em, we’ll be there in time.”
“But… other kids!” he said eagerly. “I can actually have friends my own age!”
“And you will, just don’t go bananas,” I told him. “And act like yourself. You know, like the goofy boy who hates math that I know.”
“I don’t hate it, I just find it hard,” Harry pouted, which was adorable, and I told him so. He just blushed and refused to look at me for the rest of the trip.
“So, how’s Hedwig?” I asked as we got off and headed to the Leaky Cauldron.
“She’s great! Not very happy about being in her cage all the time, though,” Harry said. “I let her out at night so she can hunt!”
“That’s a good idea. Let her stretch her wings a bit,” I nodded. “And speaking of stretching, how’s your new room?”
Harry shuffled his feet a bit. “I don’t know what to do with all the space,” he admitted. “But I like the window. It’s nice to just look outside whenever I want.”
I nodded calmly, but clenched my hands into fists. A moment later, I blinked and left my anger behind as I noticed Harry wasn’t wearing his hat.
“Um, should I have?” he asked nervously when I pointed it out.
“No, no. You’ll just get to experience what it’s like to be famous sooner than I thought you would,” I replied with an amused grin. He frowned at that, but then perked up when he saw a familiar head of bushy brown hair.
“Hermione! Hi!” he said, hurrying over to her, where she and her mother were standing in front of the disguised pub.
“Harry!” she squealed excitedly. “It’s so good to see you!” she gave him a hug, and I shared a smile with Mrs. Granger.
“Morning, Doctor Granger,” I said politely in greeting. “And hello again, Hermione.”
“Hello, sir!” she said, giving me a polite nod, her response a bit distant compare to Harry’s greeting. I didn’t mind at all, since she didn’t me all that well. I was closer to an adult than a kid in her mind.
“Hello, Mr. Rose,” Dr. Granger said. “We’re trying to find the Leaky Cauldron. The teacher’s directions said to meet here, but…”
“Ah, yes, I see the problem,” I said, chuckling to myself. “You can’t see it due to some spells protecting the area. Only Harry, Hermione, and I, can see it. Just hold your daughter’s hand and you should be fine, though.”
She blinked in surprise when, after taking my advice and held Hermione’s hand, the dingy looking building seemed to materialize out of nowhere between the two stores to the side of it.
“Oh. Oh my,” she murmured.
Hermione shot her mother a smug smile, a soft "I told you so!" escaping her.
“Come on in,” I said, opening the door for them like a gentleman. They entered, and found the interior to be slightly more crowded than it’d been yesterday. And with more children, too.
There were three other First Years with their parents, waiting for the Hogwarts teacher.
Dean Thomas, a dark-skinned Half-blood whose father had been murdered before he was born for refusing to join the Death Eaters. As such, to all intents and purposes, he was Muggleborn, having no real interaction with magic until now. He stood beside his mother, both of them looking around nervously, unsettled by their surroundings, and trying to keep a pair of little girls in line. Since one of them shared Dean and his mother's complexion, it was clear she was related. A sister, perhaps?
Then there was Justin Finch-Fletchley, a rich Muggleborn kid with well-connected parents who’d ended up in Hufflepuff in canon. I recognized him by his and his mother’s fancy clothing.
And lastly, a red-haired girl I didn’t recognize immediately, and quickly assumed she was one of the unnamed First Years who never really got mentioned in the book. She had both her parents with her, and a younger brother and sister, the latter of which was playing with Dean's sibling. Her parents were chatting with Justin’s mother, leaving Hermione and Harry to immediately attract attention from the other kids.
“Morning,” I said in greeting, to the other adults and to the pub in general.
“Morning,” several of the people inside the Leaky Cauldron replied.
“I’m Edward, and this little rascal’s guardian for the day,” I said, mussing up Harry’s hair, though it didn’t do that much to his already wild mane.
“Hi,” Harry said, echoed by Hermione a moment later.
Introductions were given, and the kids all drifted off to speak with each other while the parents conversed.
I was drawn into the adult side of the conversation, and exchanged small talk with the others, while also taking the chance to pass out business cards with my company’s name and info on it. It was very nice card stock with the glossy Omega cauldron symbol emblazoned boldly in the center, the name ‘Cauldron Cosmetics’ beneath it in neat black lettering.
“…and it was such a relief when that professor came to explain why our son was always causing things to float around,” Mrs. Finch-Fletchley said.
“My daughter kept teleporting books over to her, or would teleport to the tops of the bookshelf when we weren’t looking,” Mrs. Granger sighed.
“Hey, could be worse! At least none of yours burnt down a tree,” I chuckled, recalling the time Harry hit a tree with a lightning bolt.
“Not for lack of trying,” Mrs. Thomas said with a smile, some of her nervousness fading.
“Sally-Anne was so happy to learn that unicorns are real,” the other girl’s father, Mr. Perks, said with a shake of his head. “I was less than enthused when I learned dragons were real, too.”
“Don’t worry, the Dragon Reservations are top-notch and completely safe. There hasn’t been a dragon escape in over a decade,” I assured him, feeling a bond with him being the only other man in the group.
As we chatted, one of the floos expelled a gout of green flames, disgorging a stout middle-aged woman with grey hair in a black robe and pointy hat. Her face lit up when she saw the children and she bustled over.
“Hello, everyone! My name is Pomona Sprout, Herbology Professor and Head of the Hufflepuff House at Hogwarts,” she said with a grin, greeting the group.
Greetings were given, as well as introductions. To my relief, Harry’s was the last one, though the portly professor’s eyes had widened comically when she saw him, recognizing his scar instantly.
“My word!” she gasped out before Harry could speak. “Harry Potter?!”
“Damn it,” I sighed, slapping my face as heads all turned in her direction. The parents all looked at me, and then at Harry, confused.
Poor Harry was swarmed by the witches and wizards in the pub a mere moment later, shaking hands and receiving tearful greetings and thanks.
“Professor Sprout, could you please explain to the people here, while we head for the Alley, why Harry’s name drew so much attention?” I requested, sidling over to her. She’d made the mess, she’d have to clean it up.
She nodded, looking embarrassed at her outburst, and hastily explained a heavily abridged explanation of Voldemort, the war, and Harry’s role in ending both.
Naturally, the parents were horrified. At what, I wasn’t entirely sure, but the idea of a madman running around unchecked for years, murdering left and right, only to be stopped by an orphan he’d created? Not all that great, or a glowing endorsement of the wizarding world as a whole.
As for the kids? They were surprised they now knew a celebrity, and didn’t fully understand the heavy burden Harry bore on his shoulders, just seeing him as someone cool and interesting. Which was probably better than the hero worship or hate he’d get from the magical children at Hogwarts.
After the explanation, Professor Sprout hastily bustled us out into Diagon Alley, earning a “Whoa!” from Dean and Justin and Sally-Anne’s sister, and the rest were less vocal but still had impressed looks.
“First stop! Gringotts for galleons!” Professor Sprout said, leading the group to the bank.
I quietly whispered some information to the parents about the bank, its exchange rates, and a bit of history about the goblins. It was dry, but they appreciated it.
Meanwhile, Professor Sprout was entertaining the children with fanciful tales and less academic information about Gringotts, like how there were dragons guarding the vaults.
Pounds sterling were exchanged for galleons, and they left without incident. The next stop was the luggage store for enchanted backpacks. It was actually my idea, as I didn’t think the kids would be able to carry everything they needed without it.
From there, we went to the book store for books, quills, and writing supplies, the potion shop for beginner sets, some other places for things like astronomy equipment, herbology gear, and Madam Malkins for robes.
Last but not least was the visit to Olivanders, the highlight of the day, since it was where they got their wands.
“Seven galleons for a stick?” Mrs. Thomas uttered in disbelief when she heard the price of the wands. “That’s thirty-five pounds!”
“Actually, that’s a pretty hefty discount,” I said. “Replacement wands cost a bit more, at seventy galleons.”
Dean Thomas’ mother winced at that.
“Yeah, the ingredients to make them aren’t cheap. A wizard’s first wand is discounted by a Ministry tax write off for Mr. Olivander here, since they are an essential tool, but replacements are much more expensive,” I revealed. “Try not to break ‘em.”
“Oh, he will be very careful with his,” she said with a frown, giving Dean a warning look. He nodded rapidly in agreement.
“Just remember that students are not permitted to perform magic outside of school,” Professor Sprout spoke up. “Underaged uses of magic are heavily penalized!”
I wanted to bring up the point that this rule only applied to non-magicals, as the Trace on the students was shoddy work, as it couldn’t differentiate between sources of magic. Accidental magic or wand magic registered the same as House Elf or someone else’s magic to the Trace, hence why Dobby was able to get Harry in trouble in his Second Year, but were still able to tell when he cast accidental magic in his Third Year and the Patronus in his Fifth. As a result, magical families were expected to operate on the honor system, but only a few of them actually bothered to follow the rule.
I decided not to bring it up for the moment. No need to bring down the mood with the systematic unfairness of the magical community.
"Now, for a very important stop: Lunch time!” Professor Sprout said happily. She led the group to a family-style restaurant on the intersection of Vertical Alley and Diagon to show off some of the foods the magical world had to offer.
“What is this obsession with pumpkin?” Mrs. Finch-Fletchley asked under her breath as she squinted into her cup of pumpkin juice, while her son ate a pumpkin goulash. The restaurant’s menu had been rather pumpkin heavy, too, though with a name like the Golden Gourd, it was to be expected.
“Pumpkin and squash are actually very magically resistant plants,” I explained helpfully. “You normally can’t grow plants with magic or it ruins them and messes ‘em up, but pumpkins and squash? You can accelerate their growth, harvest them, even alter their size and taste with magic and not have to worry about magical contamination. It’s why they’re so popular in all kinds of dishes.”
I took a sip of my own pumpkin juice as the adults and children absorbed my info dump. I actually kinda liked it. It was like one of the V8 vegetable juices. Healthy, too!
Professor Sprout however looked tickled pink to have someone explain it. “Why, yes, that’s absolutely correct! We usually don’t go over that particular fact until Third Year, but indeed, most mundane plants do poorly if subjected to too much magic. In fact, many native New World plants, such as cacao beans, corn, tomatoes, and tobacco can be grown using magic without much issue, whereas Old World plants need more careful care.”
She grinned at me. “You know, I thought I knew every student at Hogwarts, but for some reason I’m drawing a blank.”
“I didn’t attend Hogwarts,” I replied simply.
“Oh, I see. Perhaps Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny, then?” the Herbology professor inquired.
“Woolingsby, actually,” I said with a thin smile. Professor Sprout clearly didn’t recognize it, but nodded all the same, perhaps thinking it was a small magical school elsewhere, and I didn’t feel like correcting her. It’d bring down the mood.
“You two have lovely daughters,” Mrs. Thomas praised as she watched them chat with the other children at another table.
“Thank you! And is Hermione’s name a Shakespeare reference?” Sally-Anne’s mother, Mrs. Perks, asked Mrs. Granger.
“It was,” the dentist confirmed. “We wanted a special name for our special girl.”
“You know, we have plenty of respect for the Bard as well here in the magical world,” Professor Sprout said with a smile. “He was actually a Squib.”
She then had to explain what a ‘Squib’ was. Which of course led into a discussion over the blood status terminology, with emphasis on the word ‘Muggle’ itself.
Curiously enough, the term ‘Muggle’ was invented by none other than the Bard himself, William Shakespeare. The man was not a wizard, but many forget that, before the Statute of Secrecy was established, magical and mundane folk mingled, more or less. It wasn’t uncommon to see a witch sell basic potions and poultices to the public, and no king worth his crown would be caught dead without a court wizard to protect and advise him. The common folk knew of the existence of magic, but it rarely impacted their own lives, as even as far back as ancient Rome, magicals preferred to live closer to their own kind, away from the unwashed non-magical masses.
Heck, the Muggle Repelling Charm was invented shortly after Hogwarts was founded, showing that magical folk had been segregating themselves for a while, and wards to keep non-magical people out of certain areas had existed as far back as the ancient Sumerians.
Anyways, the term ‘muggle’ was first used in one of Shakespeare’s ‘lost’ plays. In that it was only lost to muggle audiences because it contained references to Hogwarts, and thus was censored when the Statute of Secrecy came into play in 1689. In the play, a group of four newly graduated Hogwarts students – one from each house – discussed with each other how odd the world seemed from their perspective, now that they were adults and going out to make their mark on it.
Shakespeare used the term in a sentence spoken by the Hufflepuff of the group to describe how non-magical people go about their day: “Look at how they muggle about, content to use but one rod in their lives.”
Yes, the ‘rod’ reference was about dicks, Shakespeare’s works were the low-brow everyman sort of entertainment instead of the high-brow deep art people like to believe they are today, get over it. But as for the word itself, ‘muggle’ had been meant to be used not as an insult, but a term of respect, and the speaker was trying to explain how he respected the regular people for doing their everyday jobs without complaining.
Unfortunately, like many things, the nuance behind the word was eventually lost. At first it was used in its original meaning, that is, a respectful term to denote a non-magical. It was easier to say ‘muggle’ than ‘non-magical’ after all, and had more pizazz than calling someone ‘mundane.’
But, less than a decade after the word was first introduced, it began to be twisted. Calling someone a muggle became an insult to describe an ignorant mundane person. Whenever a magical person had a poor encounter with a mundane, the mage would call them a muggle. Angry mobs and witch hunters were scornfully called ‘muggles’ by their magical neighbors. And then, in the years immediately preceding the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy, it had evolved into a sort of slur. Only decades after the Statute was fully in place did the word’s meaning carry less of a barb, though even today it was rarely said kindly or in a manner that relayed respect.
I, of course, happily shared these historical tidbits, and watched with amusement as Hermione, who’d been listening in to my explanation, eagerly asked her mother if they could go back to the bookstore to find a copy of the Bard’s wizarding world exclusive works.
“We will see,” Mrs. Granger said diplomatically, trying to resist the puppy dog eyes her daughter was giving her.
I felt that this whole thing had turned out to be a good time. Harry was happy and making new friends, and they were about to enter a magical new world.
A flicker of envy flared up within me, but I refused to let it sink its fangs into me and crushed it with my willpower.
I had come to terms with my own circumstances long ago. I would not begrudge these innocent souls the joy of new experiences. I would find my own way, just as they would theirs.
For now, though, lunch was over, and so was the tour and shopping trip. Harry and I bid everyone farewell, and then I took him back to Number 4 Privet Drive.
"Thank you, Ed," Harry said gratefully.
"Any time, Harry," I replied, patting his head and ruffling his hair, which earned me a pout. I just chuckled, then said goodbye and made my way back home.
It had been a good day. I'd made connections with some parents, helped Harry get some friends (hopefully), and generally had a good time. I was happy.
"Well, back to work," I muttered to myself as I stepped into my apartment. Potions weren't going to brew themselves! Not unless I bought a self-stirring cauldron or two!
"Things are going to change around here soon, Inky," I told my loyal House Elf, who nodded back from his spot in the kitchen.
Yes, things were definitely going my way!
