“Darius said Tiberius got his Hogwarts letter yesterday,” Cornelius informed the family.
Argus nearly choked on his toast. He hadn’t thought what to do about a Hogwarts letter. Lydia noticed the worried look on Argus’s face and tried to reassure him, “Don’t worry, Honey, I’m sure the owl is just a bit late. It should be here by tomorrow.”
Her words did nothing to reassure Argus who was quite certain that no Hogwarts letter would be arriving. He still hadn’t done any real magic and simply hadn’t worried about it for over three years. He had never thought about the now glaringly obvious problem of school. Perhaps he could pretend he got a letter and then pretend to go away to school… but then he would really have to go somewhere and he hadn’t the slightest idea where. Before Argus got much further with this doomed plan, his father’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I’ll take Argus over to Hogwarts after work today and we’ll sort the whole thing out then.”
This was not the least bit reassuring. Argus tried to protest but before he could find the right words, his father had Disapparated. Lydia misread Argus’s look of panic and told him, “Don’t worry, I’m sure your father will sort the whole thing out. I still think the owl just got lost but it would be good to have your school list. We’ll go to Diagon Alley and get your school things tomorrow.”
Argus was miserably looking at his scrambled eggs and didn’t even notice Cornelius’s look of envy. Argus had been Archibald’s favourite ever since he’d produced the rabbit and Cornelius would have jumped at the chance to see Hogwarts.
“Can I go too, Mum?” pleaded Cornelius.
Lydia ruffled Cornelius’s hair and told him, “No, Sweetheart. You’re not old enough yet and Argus is only going because his letter’s been misplaced. You can go too when you’re eleven.”
Argus excused himself from the table as Cornelius loudly complained, “It’s not fair! Argus gets to do everything! And he has Whiskers! Why can’t I have a pet?”
Just before lunch, Lydia knocked on Argus’s door but he told her he wasn’t feeling well. She had just agreed to buy Cornelius a pet owl. She was worried that Cornelius would be lonely once Argus was gone to school and hoped the owl would help keep a connection between the two brothers.
At five o’clock the grandfather clock in the front hall began to chime, sounding Argus’s doom. Should he tell his father the truth? Perhaps he could convince Hogwarts that there really was a mistake and he could still go to school. Clinging to this last desperate hope, Argus took his father’s hand as they Apparated just outside the school’s gates.
Archibald had contacted the school in advance and Mr Pringle, the caretaker was waiting for them at the gates. Mr Pringle gave Argus a look of deepest loathing and Argus could hardly help but return the look. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen such an ill-tempered person. As the three made their way up to the school, Argus couldn’t help but wonder why Mr Pringle had taken a job at Hogwarts when he so obviously hated children. The whole way up the drive Mr Pringle complained to Mr Fudge about how messy children were, how they didn’t appreciate his hard work and how they lacked proper discipline. Mr Fudge didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Mr Pringle’s complaints as he was too busy showing Argus the lake with the giant squid, the Quidditch pitch and the castle. Argus was amazed and could barely take it all in. Before he knew it, they had arrived in front of an office door. Mr Pringle rapped on the door a few times and a voice inside answered, “Come in.”
A man with long auburn hair and a matching beard was sitting at a desk. He stood up and greeted them. “Good evening, I’m Professor Dumbledore, deputy headmaster. How can I help you?”
“I thought I made the appointment with Headmaster Dippet,” replied Archibald Fudge.
Neither Dumbledore, nor Argus missed the slight emphasis on ‘headmaster’. Argus winced but Professor Dumbledore smiled broadly. “Yes, but as deputy headmaster, I am the one in charge of sending out the Hogwarts acceptance letters, so Headmaster Dippet suggested I meet with you instead. May I interest you in a sherbet lemon?”
Argus happily accepted and mumbled, “Thanks.”
Before Professor Dumbledore could tell him that he was welcome, Archibald cut him off saying, “A what lemon?”
Dumbledore politely turned to him and explained, “A sherbet lemon. It’s a type of Muggle candy. They’re quite good.”
The look on Mr Fudge’s face clearly expressed that he was there to discuss more important matters than Muggles or their sweets, ignoring the offered candy he continued, “Now, about the letter you misplaced…”
“I’m sorry to say, it hasn’t been misplaced,” answered Professor Dumbledore somberly.
“What do you mean it hasn’t been misplaced? He hasn’t received it has he? So obviously you’ve made a mistake and lost it. Or your owl did. Either way, just write us out a list of school supplies and we’ll be on our way.”
Mr Fudge’s face had taken on a slight shade of purple. Argus knew this meant his father’s temper wouldn’t hold much longer, Professor Dumbledore seemed woefully ignorant of this fact.
“Sir, I’m sorry but the letter wasn’t misplaced because I never wrote nor sent it.”
“WELL WHY THE RUDDY HELL DIDN’T YOU SEND IT?!” yelled Mr Fudge.
Professor Dumbledore suggested that Argus be permitted to leave the room but Archibald Fudge would have none of it. “No! You can tell him to his face why you neglected your duty to send him his letter!”
Dumbledore looked at Argus sadly before turning to Mr Fudge and explaining in a gentle tone of voice, “I didn’t send Argus a letter because his name was not on our list. I’m fairly certain this means that Argus is a Squib.”
Even if Argus had been allowed to leave the room he wouldn’t have been able to get far enough away to avoid hearing his father’s reply of “HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE MY SON OF BEING A FILTHY SQUIB?!”
Dumbledore’s pleasant demeanor immediately vanished. Anger flashed in the previously twinkling eyes. He stood up from behind the desk and said in a firm yet dangerous voice, “Do not insult Squibs in my presence.”
Dumbledore turned to Argus who was trying to make himself small in a corner and told him, “Run along the corridor until you get to a picture of a bowl of fruit, tickle the pear and then go inside. I’m sure the house-elves would be delighted to serve you a snack. They’ve had precious little to do over the school holidays.”
Before Argus left he saw Professor Dumbledore throw some floo powder into his fire and inform Headmaster Dippet that matters were more complicated than expected. Argus followed Dumbledore’s instructions and found a gleaming kitchen filled with house-elves who were, as Dumbledore had indicated, only too happy to feed him. Argus found he had little appetite; he knew what his father thought of him now. He felt quite miserable being inside the wonderful school, knowing he wouldn’t be allowed to study there.
It was about a half hour later when Professor Dumbledore came back for Argus. As they walked along the corridor, Dumbledore explained, “We’ve run into a bit of a snag in convincing your father that we haven’t made a mistake. You see, we have a golden quill that inscribes the names of all magical babies upon their birth. I simply send letters to all the children’s names which were inscribed eleven years ago. However, your father insists, quite forcefully I might add, that he has seen you perform magic. Thus, I thought it would be best if you and I had a little chat in my office.”
Just as Professor Dumbledore finished telling Argus this, they had arrived at the office door. Dumbledore indicated that Argus could sit in one of the squishy purple chairs while he took the seat behind his desk.
Once Argus was seated Dumbledore looked at him with penetrating blue eyes and softly asked, “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
Argus wasn’t exactly sure why he told him but the words just came tumbling out. How he’d suspected he was a Squib, how he found the magic shop, the hours of practicing, his parents being pleased with him, everything. Argus was crying by the end of his story. Professor Dumbledore looked at him sadly and told him, “Your parents will eventually find out. I won’t tell them unless you want me to, but if I don’t they’ll still find out.”
Argus let out a sound somewhere between a sniffle and a yelp. “No! Don’t tell Father, he’ll hate me. You heard him, he doesn’t want a… a… one of those in the family.”
“Well, like it or not, you are what you are. Your father will still love you. There is no reason for you to be ashamed of being a Squib.”
Argus hung his head.
Dumbledore continued, “If you don’t tell him, I expect he’ll take you to Saint Mungo’s for testing. At most that will probably buy you another week or two, but as I promised, your secret is safe with me.”
Argus nodded, still studying the pattern of Dumbledore’s carpet.
“Oh, and before you go, could you perhaps show me one of your magic tricks?” asked Dumbledore, interest evident in his voice.
Argus couldn’t help but grin as he made a Galleon appear out of thin air.