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Reborn As A Squib In Harry potter

Many dream of a second chance in another world, but not every dream unfolds the way you’d hope. Reborn into the Harry Potter universe as a squib, Edward begins at the lowest rung in a society that looks down on non-magical individuals. Yet, Edward is determined not to be defined by this. Refusing to stay powerless, he sets out to prove that magic is more than just a wand's wave.

Mystic_Verse · Derivados de obras
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42 Chs

Edward’s New Life Begins

"Well, it's a bit small, but I suppose I could put a few expansion charms here and there, make some of the storage spaces bigger," Wisteria Hunch mused as she looked at the place we had chosen for my new living spot.

It wasn't a fancy place. In fact, there were stains in the corner, a smidge of mold on the ceiling, and the old, threadbare carpet had been poorly laid so it bunched up in odd places. But it was a cheap apartment unit close enough to a decent school, and that was what mattered the most to our family right now. Well, it mattered to mother. I didn't particularly care, and Rudy was still avoiding me like the plague.

Anyways, the apartment building had one and a half bedrooms (one master, one room that could hold another bed or be something), one bathroom, a very small kitchenette, a few closets, and no living room. It was on the first floor, and had bars over the windows, which was a bit concerning. The apartment complex itself was squished right in between London's cityscape and its outskirts, where Urban sprawl spilled out into the suburbs.

The town's name was Bendcroft. It also happened to be in Berkshire County, west of London. Which was next door to Surrey County. And you know what else was nearby, a mere mile or so away from the apartment complex? Little Whinging, the town where Harry Potter lived!

That was apparently one of the other reasons Wisteria had wanted to purchase the apartment out here. Arabella Figg, a fellow Squib, lived nearby, and it seemed like Archibald knew of the old cat-loving lady as well and considered her a decent enough woman. I'd not met her, but Archibald assured me Mrs. Figg would look out for me if I was in the area.

'Squibs gotta Squib together, I suppose,' I thought to myself, trying to keep the jitters down as I looked around the apartment some more. Knowing I was so close to the Boy Who Lived was nerve-wracking, but it also seemed like no one else was aware, which fit with what I knew. Old Lady Figg only knew because Dumbledore asked her to spy on him.

'And that raises some questions of my own. Did she move in nearby to do the spying, or was it luck that a Squib had already been living at Privet Drive when it was time for Harry to go there?' I mused to myself, tuning out mother talking to herself about sprucing the place up. If she wanted to liven up the place, she was free to do so. I had no skill in home décor. All I'd needed in my last life was a bed, a desk, a comfy swivel chair, and a laptop to survive on my own. Everything else had been optional.

"What do you think, Edward?"

"Huh? Oh, sure, go ahead, whatever you think is fine," I mumbled, waving a hand nonchalantly.

'Ooo! This area could make a good lab for when I start my experiments!' I thought eagerly as I peered into a wide, walk-in closet in the master bedroom.

"Hmm, alright then," mother hummed, and I had suspicions she knew I hadn't been listening. Still, she clapped her hands and called out for Inky, and the House Elf appeared with a crackle-pop.

"Inky, be a dear and give this place a quick cleaning before you start moving all of Edward's things in here," she instructed.

"Yes, mistress," the elderly House Elf said, bowing and vanishing with another pop.

"Come, Edward, let's leave Inky to his work," Wisteria said. "We are going to visit Mrs. Arabella Figg at a restaurant near here."

"Sure, mom," I agreed, and we left the apartment in Inky's capable – if creepy – little hands.

We left the building and headed to the meet up with Mrs. Figg. We got to the restaurant ten minutes later, and went inside.

Upon seeing her, I had to hide a frown. She resembled the actress that had played her in the movies back on my world, at least superficially. Her hair was greyer (though still wrapped up under that odd, transparent bonnet) and she wore a leopard print shawl over her greyish-white blouse and skirt.

'I guess it isn't just magicals that have a terrible sense of fashion,' I thought, hiding a grimace at the sight of what she was wearing.

A faint odor of cat and cabbage linger on her, which, given she had at least four half-kneazles in her home, along with who knows how many house cats, made sense. Except the cabbage part. I vaguely recalled that being a thing from the books as well.

"Mrs. Hunch?" Mrs. Figg inquired when we approached the table she was sitting at.

"Yes, hello, Mrs. Figg," Wisteria Hunch replied. She then nudged me with her elbow. "Say hello, Edward."

"Hello, Mrs. Figg," I greeted politely. "I'm Edward Rose."

"Rose? Oh, yes, that's right, Archie said you'd changed your last name," Mrs. Figg hummed. "Please, sit, I've order tea. Earl Grey alright with you?"

"Yes, that's wonderful, thank you," my mother said with a grateful nod. We both sat down, and Mrs. Figg looked us over, eyeing our clothing.

"You're dressed better than I expected," she said after a moment. "Most witches and wizards don't realize how important it is to stay under the radar when out and about, and wearing robes and outlandish garb doesn't do that."

"It was mostly thanks to Mr. Tarsworth and Edward here. My boy saw how Muggles dressed when visiting London and helped me out," mother admitted. "I've had a couple days to get used to this new style, due to having to sign paperwork for the apartment and school."

"Hmm. You're attending Woolingsby, correct?" Mrs. Figg inquired of me, and I nodded.

"Yes, Mrs. It's close to the apartment, and is supposed to be decent," I replied.

"Good. If you ever have any problems, or need help, you can contact me," she said. She took out a pen from a purse, and wrote down a phone number.

Mother took it, a bit perplexed by what it was, and Mrs. Figg seemed to notice if the amusement in her eyes was a clue.

"Just give that to Archie. He'll know what to do with it," she assured my mother, who nodded slowly and tucked the note away.

....

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