A Squib’s Journey

"Thanks for the great time today," I said, giving a smile to the seven redheads who'd been there for me all day. The sun was starting to set, dusk brushing itself over the hills and dales of rural England.

"No problem, Eddy," Fred (or maybe it was George?) said, slapping my shoulder.

"Yeah. We'll be sure to try and get mom to use some manner of tact when she approaches your family tomorrow," George (or maybe Fred?) assured me. I flinched, a grimace crinkling across my face, and the Weasleys all gave my sympathetic looks. Not because of my dead dad, but because they too knew how overbearing Hurricane Molly could be.

In a way, that was a comfort all of its own, and as we went back to our homes, I felt confident in tackling whatever came in the future.

As I got closer to Lumpkin's Patch, I saw a light on in the window that connected to the living room. The curtains were drawn, but I could see shadows moving about within.

'Seems like mom brought home a guest,' I guessed when I saw a pair of adult silhouettes pass by.

I steeled myself, and went to the front door. It opened at my touch, the magic within the doorknob sensing my bloodline, and I called out, "I'm home!" to announce my return.

As expected, mother rushed into the front hall, her expression tired but welcoming.

"Edward! You're back!" she crooned, giving me a hug. "Did you… did you have a good day?"

"I did. I played with the Weasleys," I informed her. "Uh, heads up, Mrs. Weasley may be coming over with sympathy pies tomorrow."

Her smile faltered a bit at that tidbit, but she rallied and nodded at my warning her about Hurricane Molly's imminent approach.

"Edward, I'd like you to meet someone," she said, ushering me into the living room. My guess was confirmed, there was indeed another man in there, standing in the middle of the room, waiting for us.

He was a short gentleman, with a bit of a paunch, and a head of greying brown hair. His green eyes looked me up and down, and he nodded to himself after a moment.

"Hello there. Edward, was it? My name is Archibald Tarsworth, attorney at law. And, a Squib, like yourself."

"Hello there, sir," I greeted politely, giving him a hand to shake. He took it, and gave me a firm squeeze before letting go.

"Strong grip. Excellent," he said with a pleased nod. "Now, I'm sure you are wondering why I am here."

"Not really," I said with a shrug. "Father is dead, I assume there is some need for a lawyer or legal representative to handle the will and so on."

"Hmm, that is correct, but sadly I do not practice magical law, rather, my office deals with Muggle law. The reason I came by is because I heard on the grapevine from one of my family members – who is, in fact, handling your father's passing – that your mother is looking for a way to get you set up in London as a Muggle."

"That was fast," I muttered under my breath.

"Ever since it was known I was a Squib, I've made it something of a duty of mine to help people in similar situations as my own," Archibald informed me. "My family is old and well established in the magical side of things, and they pass along certain tidbits of information to me. In this case, they let me know whenever someone is looking to set up a young Squib in the Muggle world."

"Well, I guess that means you're going to help me do that," I hummed, to which Archibald nodded.

"Yes. It's not exactly an easy thing, though. If there is one thing our governments share, it's a love of paperwork. I can help there, but there are some things not even I can make happen. Birth certificates? ID's and passports? Simple enough. But you are a bit younger than most Squibs I've helped before, and while I could fake a degree or two, legally, as a Muggle, you'd have to go to school."

I grimaced at that thought. The idea of going out and having to learn in school all over again sounded like a pain in my rear, but if that was the price to pay, I'd do it.

"Fine," I groaned. "I can do that."