Course Correction

Mrs Maxwell managed to secure a last-minute tour at each of the schools Gideon had expressed an interest in. Actually, Taunton Preparatory School's Admissions Office had been quite insistent that the cut-off date for the new school year had passed. However, with some persuasion, in the form of the auditory suggestion Charm Mrs Maxwell cast on herself, the lady on the other end of the Magiphone was able to accommodate them, after all.

Middling Academy, on the other hand, had no problems making room in their schedule. As a matter of fact, upon hearing the family surname, they were only too happy to make the arrangements and promised that the headmaster would be available to meet with them personally.

The following Tuesday, Mrs Maxwell and Gideon were in the foyer pulling on their coats, which had been retrieved from the cloakroom by Tilly and Tolly, when Gideon's grandmother appeared on the landing. She descended the staircase, barely using her crystal-topped cane, wearing a smart, dark-grey dress coat over a long, black skirt, instead of her usual witch's garb.

Upon reaching the ground floor, she began to put on a smart pair of black suede gloves but stopped in her tracks, doing a double take upon noticing the dumbfounded expressions of her daughter-in-law and grandson. 'Yes?' she asked them irritably.

'You're coming with us, Gran?' Gideon asked in surprise.

'Of course,' she replied. 'We can't have you going to just any school, can we? Someone needs to make sure they don't try to pull the wool over your eyes.'

Gideon's mother rolled her eyes but politely said, 'You're welcome to join us, Annabeth, but just so you know, we're taking the car.'

'Oh, not that blasted contraption,' she protested. 'Why can't we Apparate or use Floo powder?'

'We will this afternoon for the second school, but first up is the Muggle school,' Mrs Maxwell explained. 'Besides, Gideon and I wanted to listen to music on the way.'

'Very well, very well,' she said impatiently, and strode out to the car, 'but I shan't be sitting in the back!'

Gideon and his mother exchanged knowing looks before smiling and following her out. 'We'll be back for a quick lunch around one o'clock, Tilly,' Mrs Maxwell called to the elf as she departed.

'Yes, Mistress,' Tilly responded with a bow before heaving the large door closed.

The journey to Taunton Preparatory School wasn't as enjoyable as Gideon had hoped. He was worried at first when his mother had trouble getting the radio to work again, but his grandmother drew her hidden wand from the end of her cane and rapped it furiously on the old radio until Moonlight MM finally kicked in.

'There we are,' she said in a self-satisfied tone while giving Gideon what seemed like a questioning glance in the mirror of the passenger seat sun visor. However, Annabeth Maxwell did not share the same taste in music as her grandson. Whenever a song he liked began to play, she would quickly change the station. When he and his mother objected, she would simply list the various woes of modern music.

They ended up listening to an awful lot of Celestina Warbeck until Mrs Maxwell finally turned the radio off and feigned wanting to talk to her mother-in-law. Gideon enjoyed the breeze from the slightly open window hitting his face while watching the sun-drenched countryside whizz by. Distracted so, he only faintly listened to their conversation.

'How do you think Marcus is doing lately, Sarah?' said Annabeth Maxwell. 'I do worry about him, he works so hard, you know.'

'Oh, I think he's fine, Annabeth,' Sarah Maxwell replied. 'It's just a difficult time with all the changes the Minister is asking for, but it's nothing Marcus can't handle.'

'Yes, I suppose that's it, and you're right that he can handle it,' she said of her son proudly. 'Of course, things would be less stressful had he been in the job longer, as he always should have been. All those years running the Investigation Department while you-know-who was heading the Auror Office.'

'I'm not sure it's appropriate to refer to Harry Potter as "you-know-who"!'

'Yes, well the boy was always a capable Auror, but he never should have been heading the department, let alone been given another promotion! To think that that's the only reason Marcus finally got his chance to progress—and that he's still his superior...'

'It couldn't be helped. He was the one who defeated the real You-Know-Who, after all. Anyway, Marcus always took it on the chin, and he's been doing well since the promotion.'

'He should be in the running for Minister by now! His father always wanted that for him.'

'I'm not sure Marcus wants that, though, Annabeth,' Mrs Maxwell suggested. 'Ah, I think this might be it!'

They arrived at Taunton Preparatory School, and once again the old red car looked quite out of place. The handsome school and its grounds were obviously very well looked after. Gideon could immediately imagine himself reading a good book on the manicured lawns. They parked the car and made their way to the reception area, where they were greeted by a suited man in his fifties.

'Mrs Maxwell?' the man enquired, offering a handshake. 'And this must be Gideon,' he said as she returned it, 'I'm Joseph Gordon.'

'Ah, you must be the headmaster?' said Annabeth Maxwell.

'I teach History here,' said Mr Gordon.

'Isn't the headmaster going to greet us?' Gideon's grandmother asked in consternation.

'I'm afraid it's just me, Madam,' he said, trying to maintain his happy disposition.

'That's quite alright, Mr Gordon,' Mrs Maxwell interjected, giving her mother-in-law a look. 'Please continue.'

Mr Gordon proceeded to give the Maxwell's a tour. For Gideon, it was hard not to be impressed by the facilities. The idea of being away from home was still a little daunting for him, but Taunton Preparatory School was definitely an elite school. Gideon's grandmother, however, seemed to find fault with everything.

When they viewed the dormitories, she asked how often the maid service came, only to be shocked to learn the students looked after their own rooms. She was equally dismayed to hear the catering facilities were self-service, that there were only two tennis courts, that there was no astronomy elective, and that lessons ended for the day as early as three thirty PM.

Mr Gordon took her comments in his stride, but Mrs Maxwell was clearly embarrassed by her mother-in-law's behaviour. Gideon could tell that she was getting cross, so he tried to contain his amusement with his grandmother's odd comments about non-existent dust, and how the Muggle technology in the classrooms "did nothing for the decor".

After an hour or so, they returned to the reception, where they said goodbye to a slightly frazzled Mr Gordon, and headed to the car. Gideon's grandmother continued to complain endlessly about the school's questionable standards as they set off for home.

'Just what is the matter with you, Annabeth?' Mrs Maxwell blurted out.

'I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Sarah!' she answered.

'That school was beautiful, well-kept and modern. The facilities were excellent, and the teachers sound wonderful. Why have you been nit-picking over the silliest details?'

'So, ensuring my grandson has a quality education is "nit-picking" now, is it?'

'You're trying to influence Gideon's decision and I want to know why?'

'I'm doing nothing of the sort!'

'If I'd known you were going to act like this, I wouldn't have invited you.'

'My dear, I think you'll find I invited myself, and a good thing, too, or else there wouldn't have been anyone to ask the hard questions.'

'"The hard questions"? Well, as much as I'm sure Gideon's quite cut up to hear about the shortage of tennis courts, I wanted him to get all the facts for himself and make up his own mind.'

'Perhaps then if you would let the boy speak...'

'Me, let him speak?' Gideon's mother exclaimed. She refused to let her mother-in-law bait her any further. She bit her bottom lip and took a few minutes to regain her composure before asking her son, 'So, Gideon. What did you think of the school?'

His mother and grandmother's eyes were both watching him from the visor and rear-view mirrors respectively, clearly waiting to see who Gideon would side with.

'Err, I'm not sure yet,' he said diplomatically.

However, there was truth in that. Had Gideon known nothing of the magical world, he would almost certainly have jumped at the chance to attend a school like "Taunton Prep", as Mr Gordon referred to it. He would also be lucky to do so, given his family's wealth and the private school's fees. On top of that, the entry requirements wouldn't be a problem with his grades. Still, something was holding him back.

'Well, maybe this other school will be a better fit?' suggested his grandmother.

'Annabeth,' Mrs Maxwell threatened politely through bared teeth.

'Oh, Sarah!' the older woman snapped, thumping her cane on the floor of the car, 'I'm sure that place was a fair establishment for Muggle children, but don't you want your son to get a proper education? A wizardingeducation?'

'That,' she replied very clearly, 'is for Gideon to decide!'

'Gideon has already spent long enough in a Muggle school! Now it's time for him to learn about his heritage! One day things might change, and he'll be even more oblivious to what he is—'

'ANNABETH!' Shouted Gideon's mother, causing him to jump in his seat as the car jerked slightly. 'Enough! I won't hear any more of this!'

The two women shot each other furious looks, but it was Annabeth Maxwell who backed down first, then turned her attention to the passenger side window.

The argument left Gideon a little shaken. His mother and grandmother didn't agree on much, but they had always been civil toward one another, or at the very least, expressed their true feelings passive-aggressively. Hearing them shout like this was unpleasant.

They spent the journey home in silence. Gideon's grandmother sulked with her head turned to the window the whole way. Mrs Maxwell seemed thankful for the quiet, but Gideon did catch her checking on him in the mirror a few times. He gave her a weak smile when their eyes met once, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for himself. Once again, he had been the subject causing a rift in his family.

When they finally reached the house and entered the foyer, Gideon's grandmother turned to him and said rather louder than necessary, 'I don't think I'll be able to attend your afternoon visit, after all, dear. I could use a laydown.'

'Okay, Gran, thanks for comi—' Gideon started.

'Besides,' she continued loudly, turning to Mrs Maxwell, 'I know when I'm not welcome.'

Gideon's mother looked annoyed yet slightly embarrassed as she watched her mother-in-law ascend the staircase, before turning to her son.

'Well, at least that's ov—' Mrs Maxwell began.

'I'll take lunch upstairs, Tilly! And fetch my pills, would you? I'm feeling a little faint,' Annabeth Maxwell called down dramatically.

'At once, Mistress!' the elf responded in a panic-stricken tone, scurrying off to the kitchen.

Mrs Maxwell closed her eyes and bit her lip.

'Shouldn't we go after her?' Gideon asked.

His mother turned to make sure her mother-in-law had cleared the landing before answering him, 'No. It won't do any good right now. Just let her stew for a while. Come on, let's get a bite to eat!'

Gideon's siblings joined them for lunch in the dining room. They made quick work of Tilly and Tolly's ham and cheese toasted sandwiches and tomato soup. Anthony and Jennifer eagerly badgered their brother about Taunton Prep. Gideon suspected his mother had told them to do so, but he appreciated it anyway.

In telling them about the school, Gideon discovered his own feelings about it. He thought it really would be a nice place to go. Also, the children who went there would probably be more concerned with their education than most, meaning they might be less inclined to bullying.

Even so, his grandmother's comments were on his mind. She may not have expressed it in the best way, but she obviously had a strong opinion on the matter of his schooling. Was a wizarding education that different or important? Even for a Squib?

Would he really be depriving himself of something by turning away from his roots? Or was his grandmother asking too much of him? Gideon had been agonising over his predicament for some time now but had concluded that he could still make something of himself in the Muggle world. His knowledge of the magical community might even come to be of use somehow. He wasn't sure if the same could be said of the reverse.

'How long have you got until your other tour, Gid?' Anthony asked.

'It's at two o'clock, isn't it?' Gideon confirmed with his mother.

'Yes, so we should be off soon,' she said while gathering up the plates.

'Gran's not going with you this time?' Jennifer enquired.

'No. No, she isn't,' Mrs Maxwell sighed with relief as she entered the kitchen.

Jennifer and Anthony rounded on Gideon, and his sister asked, 'What was that about? What happened?'

'Nothing really, just Gran being Gran,' Gideon told them.

'Come on, Gid, give us the deets!' Anthony encouraged.

'Well,' Gideon began, 'Gran wouldn't shut up during the tour and Mum was getting really irritated—'

'Typical,' Jennifer commented.

'—and when we got back in the car she finally snapped. I thought that would be the end of it, but then they had a bit of a shouting match.'

'No?' said Anthony in disbelief. 'I wish I could have seen that!'

'What were they arguing over exactly?' Jennifer prodded.

'Seems like Gran doesn't want me to go to a Muggle school,' Gideon concluded.

'Well, that's understandable!' said Anthony without thinking. It was a swift blow to the gut, but Gideon tried to act as though it didn't mean anything. His brother had just assumed, as Gideon suspected most wizards and witches would, that a Muggle education was simply inferior.

'Ant!' Jennifer exclaimed, elbowing their tactless brother.

'What?' he asked her while nursing his arm, before realising his slip of the tongue. 'Oh, that's not what I meant, Gid!'

'Don't worry about it,' Gideon assured him.

'Honestly, bro, I only meant... Well, I don't know what I meant, but I'm sorry!'

'It's fine!' Gideon said coolly. 'Anyway, I should get Mum, we've got to be going.'

Gideon left the table, angry again at how his "situation" was affecting everyone around him. He felt guilty that he had made his brother feel guilty. He felt humiliated that his sister felt the need to leap to his defence. He wondered how long things would be like this, and worried that it might just be part and parcel of life as a Squib.

Mrs Maxwell was already putting her pink coat back on in the foyer and had Gideon's on the bannister ready for him. 'Oh, there you are,' she said upon seeing him, 'what's the matter?'

'Nothing,' he lied, 'are we ready to go?'

Mrs Maxwell surveyed her son's face, evidently trying to figure out if the high pitch in his voice meant something, but the distant sound of the grandfather clock in the drawing room signalled that they needed to leave, so she abandoned her search for a deeper meaning behind Gideon's steely expression.

They headed towards the clock's chimes and into the antique-laden drawing room, which was only really used for entertaining guests and for its grand fireplace, through which the family occasionally travelled by Floo powder. Mrs Maxwell poured out powder for herself and her son from a china vase on the mantle. One after the other, they stepped onto the granite base, threw down the powder and commanded, 'Middling Academy!'

Gideon rather enjoyed travelling via the green flames of the Floo network. When he did so, he would imagine himself riding a roller coaster. His experience with real roller coasters was, of course, limited seeing as he was usually too short to ride the good ones and became ill after riding even the slowest. This ride, however, was over in a few seconds, not long enough to do any damage, and didn't have a height requirement.

Gideon arrived at the destination grate and stepped out into a small, mirrored alcove with a smile on his face. He couldn't help comparing the journey to the awful car rides of that morning. There certainly wasn't time for arguments this way. On noticing his reflection, he patted his fringe down out of habit.

He walked beyond the strange alcove and a set of sliding metal doors closed behind him. Apparently, there were five identical Middling Academy fireplaces, all cleverly disguised as Muggle lifts behind automatic sliding doors, or else they were real lifts and the fireplaces inside appeared only when in use.

Gideon was standing in an attractive, white-tiled lobby area. His mother ushered him towards the large reception desk directly opposite the wall of lifts. To his left, Gideon could see a glass double-doored street entrance where people were busily passing by.

Gideon figured that this must be the ground floor of an office building. It seemed rather impressive when he thought back to the plain brochure. They stopped in front of one of two receptionists, a curly-haired older woman, who greeted them with a genuinely happy expression on her round face, 'Welcome to Middling Academy! How can I help you today?'

'Hello there,' Mrs Maxwell said, 'we have an appointment to tour the school, with Mr Middling I believe? The name is Maxwell.'

'Oh, Mrs Maxwell, of course, I have it right here. Let me take you to the headmaster,' the lady said excitedly as she got up from her chair. She took a quick glance around and disappeared behind an invisible wall to the right of the desk. They followed her through it into a long, narrow corridor. Gideon got the impression from the names and titles on the door plaques they passed, that this area must be for the staff offices.

At the very end of the windowless corridor was a door marked:

Malcolm Middling

Headmaster

Gideon found himself nervous for some reason, certainly more than he had been at Taunton Prep. The receptionist knocked and entered after hearing a 'Come in!' from inside.

'I have the Maxwells here to see you, Headmaster!' she announced brightly.

A very tall and thin man in a pin-striped suit rose from behind an ornately carved wooden desk. 'Ah, lovely to meet you both. Would you like anything before we begin; tea, coffee, water?' he asked.

'Oh, we're fine, thank you,' said Mrs Maxwell.

'That will be all, then, Carol,' Mr Middling told the receptionist before she closed the door behind her.

'Well,' said Mr Middling, sitting back down in the handsome, brown leather chair of his reasonably large office, and gesturing for them to take the seats opposite, 'as you have no doubt gathered, my name is Malcolm Middling. I'm the headmaster and founder of Middling Academy, Order of Merlin Third Class, and Senior Advisor to the Ministry's Muggle Liaison Office. I am also a Squib!'