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Squib Tales Chapter 11
🕑 Added 2023-03-15 15:57:54 +0000 UTCChapter 11: Study Buddies
“So! Nice weather we’re having?”
I cringed as soon as I uttered the awkward greeting.
At least Harry was just as nervous and uncomfortable as I was, as he shifted about in his seat and avoided making eye contact with me.
“Um, yeah. I guess. Kinda nippy, though,” he eventually murmured when he realized I was waiting for him to respond.
“Mm-hmm. It’s the fall, after all,” I hummed, before shooting him a look, taking in his hand-me-down clothes. “Do you have a coat? Or perhaps a sweater for when the weather turns?”
“I do,” Harry nodded, before giving me a concerned look of his own. “Err, why am I here?”
“I’ve been assigned as your student mentor, sort of like a tutor,” I admitted. “I wanted to get to know you before we get down to studying.”
“Is it because of my grades?” he asked nervously.
“From what they’ve told me, it’s one of the reasons,” I replied. “Like the time you climbed onto the roof and the fire department had to come and get you back down.”
“I was trying to hide from Dudley,” Harry said, shrinking in on himself at the reminder of what he’d done last year.
“Look, it’s fine, I thought it was hilarious, and we got to leave school early,” I claimed. “But I do have a question for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you deliberately tanking your own grades?” I asked, causing Harry to blink at me in shock.
“N-no,” he stammered, but his eyes betrayed him.
“Hmm. Let me guess, your cousin also wrecks your homework and assignments,” I mused, and that caused him to shiver.
“You’re a bad liar, kid, I can tell,” I said, holding up a hand to forestall his denials.
“I, I don’t…” Harry stammered.
“You don’t have to tell me a thing,” I replied, before offering a suggestion. “Tell you what! We can work on your homework together after school. Then, I will hang onto it for you until you have to turn it in. We meet up before school starts, probably here in the library, and that way your cousin won’t be able to wreck your stuff.”
Harry just stared at me, as if he couldn’t believe I was being so helpful.
“Why?” he asked after a moment.
“Because I don’t like bullies,” I replied simply.
Harry looked down at the table, and said nothing. For a minute, nothing happened, and I took the chance to take out a few items from my backpack.
“Let’s go over setting up a schedule,” I suggested. “I’m pretty much free after school for, like, at least an hour every day. Same for weekends if that’s easier. I don’t like getting up too early, but if you want to meet up before school, that’s fine with me. Do you live nearby?”
“I live in Privet Drive,” he replied, still sounding dazed as if he wasn’t sure this was all a dream. “In Surrey.”
“Hmm. Pretty close, then. That’s, what, a twenty-five-minute walk to the school?”
“Fifteen if you cut through the old playground off Mulberry Street,” he revealed.
“Nice. I walk to school, too,” I said. “So, what do you want to do?”
“You’re asking me?” Harry uttered, and he sounded completely taken aback that anyone would ask his opinion of anything.
“Of course,” I replied, and he look at the books I’d put on the table, before nodding.
“Um, before school works best for me,” he admitted. “I have chores in the afternoon.”
“I see,” I muttered, making a note of it in my day planner. “Alright, then. If that’s what you want, we can meet up before school starts in the morning.”
I pretended not to notice the surprised and happy look Harry sported at that.
{&&&&&}
“I’m back, Inky,” I said, greeting the House Elf as I walked into my apartment. “Ooof, what a day!”
“Welcome back, Young Master Eddie!” Inky said cheerfully from the kitchenette. He was standing on a stool, stirring a batch of Wiggenweld Potion in a copper cauldron. This was how I managed to get so much of the stuff; my loyal friend and caretaker helped me brew the potion.
“How’s the potion brewing coming along?” I inquired, taking a peek at what he was doing. The contents of the cauldron was a beautiful blue color, meaning it was another perfectly made potion.
As a House Elf, Inky was just as magical as a witch or wizard, and could handle tasks like brewing potions, though from what he told me, it was rare that that was ever asked of them. Apparently, wizarding folk believed that having a House Elf brew a potion made it weaker, or spoiled it. Sorta like how the ancient Fay had curdled milk and done other tricks. Before they vanished mysteriously one day and were replaced by House Elves. What a curious coincidence.
However, as far as I could tell by testing the potions Inky made versus the ones made by myself, there was no evidence for that claim.
‘Probably relates to the rule that states non-humans can’t have wands,’ I thought bitterly. ‘God, what a backwards society!’
“Inky is just finishing up the latest batch,” the House Elf informed me. “Inky has also put in the order for new ingredients. We were running low on dittany, aloe oil, and wiggentree bark.”
“Excellent!” I said. “When the potion has cooled and you’ve finished mixing in the aloe vera oil, can you put it into jars for me? And how many Wiggenweld Creams will I have when you’re done?”
“With this next batch you will have one-hundred jars worth,” Inky dutifully informed me.
“Hmm, that’s good for a week’s work, but that will be sold out within half a month. Assuming we don’t get any new customers. We’ll need to find a way to brew it faster and in larger quantities,” I mused to myself. “I need to come up with a better, catchier name for my product, too. Can’t call it a Wiggenweld Cream forever.”
“Why?” Inky asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Partly because I don’t want anyone from the magical side of things to know what I’m doing,” I admitted. “Can’t sell magical stuff to muggles. Not legally, at least. Even if they know about magic in the first place, which is a load of hooey.”
It was a risk if a muggleborn or muggle-savvy half-blood came across my product and recognized the name as a reference to a magical potion.
“Hmm, what about Yggdrasil, or something like that?” I wondered. “The World Tree is an ash tree, and wiggentrees are technically a magical sub-species of rowans, which are ashes.”
“Actually, now that I think of it, using the Yggdrasil would be a great idea for a product logo,” I realized. “Yeah… yeah! That could work!”
“Is everything alright, young master?” Inky inquired as I began to pace around the apartment’s living room area, muttering to myself.
“Huh? What do you mean?” I uttered, glancing over at the floppy-eared creature.
“Young master only mutters and paces when he is thinking hard about sad things,” Inky replied. “What bothers the young master?”
“You know me too well,” I sighed. “I just… Inky, what if I met someone, and they were in trouble? But getting involved with them could cause me trouble as well?”
“Young Master Eddie is a kind man,” Inky claimed. “Only a good person would worry about not helping someone.”
He hopped down from the stool, the cauldron stirrer still mixing itself independently with the elf’s magic. “Do what you can. I and Mistress Wissy will also help you if you ask.”
“Alright,” I muttered. “You’re right, as always, Inky. Thank you.”
I’d tried to shove it to the back of my mind, but it was impossible to ignore. Harry Potter was real. He was a real person and he was suffering. Could I really just sit back and let his relatives hurt him? Could I abandon someone in harm, knowing I could make a difference?
No. No I could not. I might not be the most morally upright person in the world, but I damn well wasn’t someone who’d sit back and watch someone I knew suffer when I had the means to help them. So come hell or high water, and against my better judgement, I was getting involved in Harry Potter’s life.
And from what I’d seen so far, he was going to need a lot of help.
The next morning, I got up a couple minutes early so I could help Harry with his homework and other issues. We would meet up in the library, like we’d done yesterday, and I would help him as best I could with his various problems.
Helping the Boy-Who-Lived with his academic stuff was only a small part of what I hoped to do for him. I planned on getting him bulked up somewhat because he was far too skinny for his own good. And maybe a bit of help with social interactions. I only had a year to work with him, but I was going to do the best I could with the time I had.
“Morning, Harry,” I said, greeting the younger boy as I stepped into Woolingsby’s library. He looked up, a flicker of apprehension in his gaze, but he wasn’t flinching like yesterday, so I took it as a win.
“Morning,” he said slowly.
“So! Let’s look over your math homework first, shall we?” I suggested, and he nodded, pulling out his worksheets.
I glanced over them, my Occlumency helping me read them faster than normal, and I pulled out a pencil and delicately marked down spots where he’d gotten some stuff wrong.
“Alright, you did pretty good. Math is mostly just remembering the rules, so once you have that down, you’ll be on the right track,” I said.
As we worked, I heard a loud grumble come from Harry’s stomach, and I frowned, giving him a concerned look.
“Are you hungry?” I asked him, and he shook his head quickly.
“I’m fine!” he responded. “I ate breakfast today!”
“The way you said that makes me think you don’t eat breakfast every day,” I replied shortly, which made him hunch over and curl up in on himself.
“Hope you like bologna, cheddar, and mayo,” I said, making a snap decision, and reached into my backpack, extracting the sandwich Inky had made for my lunch. “Eat. Go on, do it. I don’t care if we’re in the library right now, you’re not going to class hungry, and I can always buy my lunch from the cafeteria.”
Harry recoiled, taken aback that someone was taking such an interest in him and his wellbeing, and hesitantly took the offered sandwich. Despite his best efforts to resist, it smelled good, and he scarfed it down in less than a minute.
‘Okay, definitely telling Inky to make me two lunches from now on. And an extra breakfast,’ I thought to myself as I watched him eat like a starving person. Which, come to think of it, he just might have been. I also brought out the bottle of water, apple, and bag of chips I’d brought with me to accompany my lunch, and slid them over to where Harry was sitting.
I quietly held back my anger at the Dursleys and Dumbledore, and instead pretended like I wasn’t watching him eat as I went over his history homework.
My feelings of concern over my decision to get involved with Harry dwindled even further.
