Argus Fudge hugged his knees. He was hiding in his family’s garret and was hoping no one would find him. Argus spent a lot of time hiding upstairs in the garret; it was nice to be alone and have somewhere to think. Argus had quite a bit of thinking to do. Next month would be his eighth birthday. Most boys his age would be excited at the prospect of their upcoming birthday, but Argus was terrified. His parents had decided to take him to a Healer if he didn’t show some magic by the time he turned eight
Most young wizards had their first signs of magic before they were seven. Archibald Fudge, Argus’ father, had tried all sorts of ways to ‘force’ the magic out of him. His mother insisted, somewhat desperately, that Argus was just a late bloomer and simply needed time. After her husband had nearly killed Argus with his attempts, Lydia had put her foot down. She had declared that Argus would see a Healer when he was eight, hoping that this compromise would keep Argus safe from any more life or death situations.
Matters had not been helped when Cornelius, Argus’ younger brother, had turned Argus purple in one of their arguments. Archibald had proudly taken Cornelius out for ice cream, leaving Lydia to try to turn Argus back to normal.
Now Argus was running out of time. He’d spent the past hour trying to concentrate hard enough on an old hat in order to make it levitate, or burst into flame, or sing, or do anything at all that was even slightly magical. However, the hat continued to sit there, gathering dust. There was nothing remotely magical about it.
Argus could hear his mother calling for him to come down for dinner. With a sigh he got up, brushed himself off and hurried downstairs. During dinner Cornelius proudly announced that he had managed to make their next door neighbour’s cat meow like a train whistle. Archibald proudly clapped him on the back. Argus became extremely interested in moving the vegetables around on his plate. Lydia smiled at Cornelius and then muttered something about how she’d better fix the cat before Mrs Smith noticed.
After dinner, Lydia asked Argus to help her with the dishes. Once they were all washed and dried, she told him that she was going to Diagon Alley the next day and that he could come along if he liked. Argus was quite eager to get out of the house, away from his abundantly magical brother and happily agreed.
Argus spent the rest of the evening back up in the garret desperately trying to perform even the weakest magic. By now he was nearly certain that he must be a Squib. He’d heard the things his father said about Squibs, how they were dirty and a disgrace to their families. Archibald already loved Cornelius more than Argus but he at least still liked his older son. Argus knew his father would hate him if he dishonoured the family by being a Squib. He knew his mother would try to make the best of things but she’d still be terribly disappointed in him. Tears of frustration leaked down his cheeks, there had to be something he could do, perhaps if he tried harder… Maybe he just needed more time… Argus eventually fell asleep and spent the night having troubled dreams.
The next day, Lydia gave Argus a few Galleons. “Here you go, Dear. Buy yourself something nice and maybe get a snack, but don’t spoil your supper. And don’t forget to meet me back here at two,” she reminded him.
Argus happily set off to explore Diagon Alley while his mother headed for the Apothecary. He suspected she was only being so nice to him because she felt sorry for him, but it was still a welcome change.
He wandered about looking at Quidditch supplies, stopped in at Flourish and Blott’s and then proceeded to the Leaky Cauldron. Once inside, he decided to go out and look at some of the Muggle shops. He’d only walked a few blocks when a storefront sign caught his attention: Black Magic. Intrigued, Argus wandered inside.
The shop was like none he had ever seen before. There were decks of cards, silk hats, wands that didn’t seem to be made of wood, and an assortment of many other things. Before Argus had had a chance to properly examine most of it, a gentleman appeared behind the counter. “How may I help you, Sir?”
“Er… erm, I was just looking,” replied the boy.
“Was there any particular magic trick that you were looking for?” asked the man.
“M-magic trick?”
“Why yes! Black Magic caters to budding magicians such as yourself, you can impress your friends and family with astounding feats of magic!”
Argus wasn’t sure he understood. “You mean I can buy stuff here that’ll let me do magic?”
The man looked at him oddly, leaned over and said in a low voice, “Well, it will look like magic.”
Argus was intrigued and spent a good hour in the shop. The owner happily showed him all sorts of interesting things. The man was very helpful and Argus placed a rather large order with him. The owner promised most of it would arrive at the post office within three days. Argus was so excited at the prospect of buying himself more time that he didn’t even wonder why the man accepted Galleons. Neither did he notice the sympathetic look on the man’s face as he left.
It was several minutes before Argus realized that he was lost. He couldn’t find the sign for the Leaky Cauldron. After nearly an hour of searching, he sat down on the sidewalk hoping his mother would be able to find him.
It was nearly half past three when Lydia found her son. She’d been desperately searching for him and had finally met someone who’d remembered seeing a boy about his age leave the Leaky Cauldron. By the time she found Argus sitting by himself on the verge of tears, she’d long since been angry. Argus had explained that he couldn’t find his way back to the Leaky Cauldron. Lydia hugged him and took him home by side-along Apparition. She was too relieved at having found her son to worry over the fact that he had been sitting less than a block from the Leaky Cauldron and hadn’t been able to find it. She told herself that he must have simply been frightened at being lost and hadn’t noticed it. Still, she told Argus not to mention the incident to his father. There was no point worrying Archibald unnecessarily.
Argus went to bed that night so excited he could hardly sleep. In two days time the solution to his problems would arrive. He just had to walk down to the Muggle post office to collect it. Then his parents would love him as much as Cornelius again. For the first time in weeks, Argus had a good night’s sleep.
Lydia didn’t ask Argus where he was disappearing to each morning. She hoped the trip to Diagon Alley had cheered him up enough that he had gone back to playing with his friends; Tiberius and Barty. She knew he’d been avoiding them for weeks, going off to hide somewhere.
Argus wasn’t playing with his friends though. He had been walking three miles each morning to the Muggle post office in order to collect his magic tricks. He needed them to arrive soon as the owner of Black Magic had advised him to practice the tricks before showing anyone. The shop owner had even been helpful enough to show Argus a few ‘magic’ tricks and how they worked. Argus was planning on starting with something relatively simple and had already begun practicing upstairs in the garret. He’d also realized that it might be a very long time before he could go back to the magic shop, so he had ordered a good bit. It wouldn’t all arrive at once though; his white bunny would take about three weeks to arrive since it needed a proper cage and special delivery.
The third morning, Argus was delighted that a brown paper package had arrived for him. He nearly skipped the three miles back home and then snuck his treasure into the attic. He carefully removed the string and paper and opened the package to find a book, a wand, a top hat, some silk handkerchiefs and an assortment of other things.
Argus spent the whole afternoon practicing in front of a cracked old mirror in the garret. By dinner time, he still didn’t have it quite right and decided he’d have to hold off on doing it until the next day.
Lydia was delighted to see a broad grin on Argus’ face and was equally pleased to note that his appetite had finally returned. Archibald didn’t seem to notice; he was busy discussing Quidditch teams and the upcoming World Cup with Cornelius. Argus didn’t join in the discussion much, but he didn’t have the same defensive posture he’d been using for the past month.
The next day Argus was back up in the garret practicing in front of the old mirror again. After a few more hours he decided that he knew the trick flawlessly enough that he could risk an audience. He went out to the woods behind the house and picked a small bouquet of wildflowers. He knew daisies were his mother’s favourite so he was sure to pick plenty of those.
One last practice in front of the mirror and he was ready for his grand debut. He waited eagerly in the garret, watching out the window for his father to Apparate at the gate. Within minutes Archibald popped into view and made his way up the walk. Argus hurried downstairs to the kitchen. His mother had been baking cookies.
“Mum, may I please have a cookie?” Argus asked.
“Of course you can, Dear,” Lydia answered. She looked at her son somewhat suspiciously. He was normally polite, but not quite that polite.
Just as Archibald entered the room, Argus replied, “Thank you, Mum.” He then produced the bouquet of wildflowers from thin air. Argus had carefully practiced his look of astonishment in the mirror and pulled the trick off flawlessly. The shop owner would have been proud, but not nearly as proud as Archibald and Lydia were.
Archibald was beaming ear to ear and Lydia was hugging Argus and crying. “That’s my boy!” boomed Archibald.
He ruffled Argus’ hair and added, “I always knew that the magic was hiding in you somewhere.”
Lydia was smiling through her tears and barely speaking coherently. “…was so worried, thought that you might be… but no matter… ..can’t remember being so proud…”
Before Argus had a chance to feel bad for deceiving his mother, his father happily announced that this called for a celebration and he was taking the entire family to the Three Broomsticks for dinner. Argus was fairly in shock. Cornelius had only been taken for ice cream, but for him they were all going out for supper. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy as his father proudly carried him out the door on his shoulders
The wildflowers trick had worked so well that Argus continued to improve his repertoire. He cleaned up the garret and even polished the old mirror. All of his tricks were kept in a large trunk against the far wall. Argus was quite certain that no one would ever go looking there.
He had now ‘repaired’ his father’s torn newspaper, produced any number of handkerchiefs, made a few of Cornelius’ toys disappear, and reappear. Today he was quite excited, the white bunny had arrived the day before and he was nearly ready to produce it from a hat. He remembered what the man at the magic shop had told him and was careful not to hold the bunny by the ears. He didn’t want to hurt the bunny; he was hoping that if he impressed his father enough he’d be allowed to keep him as a pet. Today was Argus’ eighth birthday and what he wanted most was to be able to keep his pet bunny, who he’d named, Whiskers. A few weeks before the only thing Argus had wanted was to not be a Squib, now he had hopes and dreams again. He was back to playing with Barty and Tiberius, when he wasn’t practicing. It was as though being able to do something that looked like magic meant that he wasn’t a Squib after all. Argus hadn’t even begun to worry over the fact that he couldn’t keep pretending forever.
Early in the afternoon Argus scurried downstairs, keeping Whiskers well hidden. He’d carefully practiced and completely impressed his father with the appearance of the white rabbit.
“You’re magic is just taking off isn’t it, Son?” asked his father, beaming with pride. “You’ll be excellent at Transfiguration, just like I was and my father too. Transfiguration ability runs in the family.”
“May I keep the rabbit, Father?” asked Argus hopefully.
“Well, seeing as how it was a pretty impressive bit of magic and it is your birthday… I don’t see why not.”
Argus couldn’t help but beam as he held Whiskers. Before he ran upstairs his father called after him, “Oh, and Argus, try to keep the magic toned down a bit. We don’t want the Ministry here.”
Argus nodded, noting his father’s smile. It was a bit of a relief that he didn’t have to continue performing his magic tricks. He still planned to practice in the garret though. Argus took Whiskers with him to see his best friend, Tiberius. They hadn’t played much in the past few weeks but Tiberius was glad to see him.
“What do you have there?” asked Tiberius eagerly.
Argus proudly held up the bunny. “This is Whiskers.”
“Where’d you get him? Was he a birthday gift?” asked Tiberius enviously.
“I made him appear, accidental magic,” explained Argus, somewhat smugly.
“Can you get me one too?”
Argus hadn’t considered this problem. After a few moments he lied, “I don’t know how I did it, it just happened.”
Tiberius looked a bit disappointed. “Yeah, I still don’t know how to make myself float again. I’ve been trying for weeks and weeks. Mum would kill me if I made my corduroy trousers shrink again though.”
Argus sat next to Tiberius on the grass, still holding Whiskers. “Father asked me not to try to do magic for a while, so even if I knew how I couldn’t get another.”
He gently placed Whiskers into Tiberius’ lap and added, “But you can play with him too. Whiskers, this is my best mate, Tiberius. Tiberius, this is Whiskers, the bunny.”
“Pleased to meet you, Whiskers,” giggled Tiberius. Whiskers only wiggled his nose in reply.
The two friends spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the bunny on the hilltop. Argus felt like his troubles were finally over. It was several years before they caught up with him again.