Reborn As A Squib In Harry potter

I shuddered at the warring emotions within me, and the red-heads seemed to realize they were making me uncomfortable because Ginny was the first to come up and give me a gentle, non-tackle-based hug.

"Thank you," was all I was able to say.

"Mom said she was going to bake you guys some food and stuff," Ron helpfully supplied, and I grimaced.

"Tell her thank you, but she shouldn't bother taking anything over today," I said. "Mom went out to deal with the paperwork and visit the morgue. It's just me and Rudy right now. But, uh, tell her thanks, and maybe bring it over tomorrow?"

Bill and Charlie both nodded in understanding, the former walking off to no doubt pass my message on before their mother did too much pity baking.

I sighed in relief. One disaster averted. 'I have no idea if Mom or I would have been able to deal with her so soon after father's death,' I thought to myself in distaste.

Molly Weasley was a disturbingly unpleasant woman. The few times I'd met her, I'd gotten an eerie sense of uncanny valley from her. She was nice enough, I suppose, but the matriarch of the Weasley Clan (the proper term for a Pureblood family who were not nobles) was definitely the epitome of how backwards the Wizarding World truly was. She could bake a nice batch of cookies or a pie or whatever, and then spout the most bigoted and racist things with a smile, as if she had no idea what she'd just uttered was backwards by modern standards.

She might not have been a Death Eater, but Mrs. Weasley was without a doubt a Conservative, and displayed all the tiny evils of a person raised in an environment that was behind the times.

For instance, she thought that Veela were all homewrecking harlots, that if there wasn't a spell or magical equivalent of something, than it wasn't worth it, and that Muggles were useful only for providing 'new blood' into the Wizarding World, while their inventions and achievements were looked down upon in a very patronizing, 'that's nice dear,' sort of way. The sort of way you'd condescendingly praise a toddler for drawing on the wall in crayon.

She believed that children should be seen and not heard, and that a woman's place was in a household, and while they could work, it was either because it was part of the family business, or as a means to find a husband. Oh, and any woman past thirty who hadn't married yet was a failure as a female.

And this was not seen as a problem. If anything, Molly Weasley was the perfect example of a witch who'd been raised in the magical world all her life. Her opinions – that she vocally espoused almost constantly – were simply the norm.

It made me sick. So, I was quite glad when Mrs. Molly 'Holier Than Thou' Weasley started snubbing my family for its 'dark inclinations' and 'unsavory past' a couple years ago.

Since I was the same age as Percy Weasley, and one of the few other magical kids in the whole town – the others being Cedric Diggory, Sarah Fawcett, Luna Lovegood and my little brother – we ended up playing together more often than not.

And when Molly heard the rumors of me being a Squib, she'd gotten very patronizing, and encouraged her children to play with me 'despite my disability.' And yes, she used that word. Disability. As if I was lesser, somehow.

So, yeah, Neither Wisteria or I were up for a visit from Howling Molly, as she was known in town. We'd have to put up with her eventually, but her visit was staved off for now.

"Want to go throw gnomes into the river?" I asked, breaking the depressing silence, and everyone nodded, eager to do something.

"Is it true you didn't get your letter?" Ron asked as we walked towards a nearby field to root around for gnomes to toss.

"Ron!" Charlie hissed, and Percy and the twins shook their heads at their little brother's words.

"No, it's fine," I said, waving it off when Ron tried to apologize. "It's true. I'm officially a Squib."

Winces and sympathetic frowns adorned the Weasleys faces.

"What will you be doing, then?" Percy inquired.

"Muggle schools start around the same time as Hogwarts," I replied with a shrug.

"That's… far," Fred – Or was it George? – commented. "I don't even know where the nearest Muggle town is!"

"I don't even know if I'll be staying in the area," I admitted, revealing a sliver of my ultimate plan. "There might be plans for me to move out and live in London, or some other area to be closer to the Muggle schools."

"You're moving?" Ginny said sadly, and I winced at her tone.

"Yeah. Maybe," I said.

"I'll miss you," she declared.

"Me too," I replied. "But hey, if you really get lonely, you and your brothers can always write, and I can still use the Floo, even if I can't use a wand."

"True," Percy said with a nod. "And we know you can brew potions just fine. So, you can still make a living somehow."

The Weasleys all nodded, and once more I was struck by how they simply didn't even consider the chance I might try and ditch the magical world behind and make money in the Muggle world.

I wondered briefly what they'd think of my plans for the future, and stifled a chuckle. The twins would, at the very least, appreciate the chaos.

"Found some gnomes!" one of the twins called out, hoisting a stubby brown potato with arms and legs in the air.

"Great! Let get a few more for chucking!" Charlie suggested, and we rifled through the field for more deformed dirt-babies. We all got disgustingly filthy before lunch time rolled around, but we all had wide grins. It was a good day.

And, in the back of my mind, I dared hope the peace and happiness would last.