Bargaining
A vein was throbbing in Archibald’s jaw as he left Hogwarts with Argus. They used side-along Apparation to return home where Archibad yelled about the incompetent deputy headmaster and the senile headmaster of Hogwarts for a good half hour.
Lydia, being somewhat more sensible, suggested they take Argus to Saint Mungo’s to see a Healer. She pointed out that he was obviously magical and that all they needed was a note from the Healers of St Mungo’s to confirm this. Then Hogwarts would have to accept him.
Argus was in shock. He’d told his secret to that Dumbledore man and if he hadn’t he might still have been able to sneak into Hogwarts. He would simply have had to fool the Healers. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. After all, Professor Dumbledore had promised not to tell so if he could trick the Healers…
As it turned out, Healer Nutcombe wasn’t the least bit interested in seeing Argus perform magic. He was mainly interested in poking and prodding and saying “Hmmm” and “Interesting.” Argus began to suspect that Healer Nutcombe was about as much of a real Healer as Argus was a real wizard. Lydia’s impression of Healer Nutcombe wasn’t much higher than Argus’s. Within the week she’d had him referred to see Healer Greengrass instead.
Healer Greengrass had a long list of ideas of why Argus’s magic was ‘repressed’. He had Argus drink funny tea and encouraged him to recount his earliest memories. It was during the interpretive dance which was to stimulate the flow of magic that Lydia decided it was time for another referral.
Healer Jenkins asked Lydia to recount as many of the events of Argus performing magic that she could recall. She was taking a good deal of notes and Argus noticed her raise her eyebrows upon hearing about Whiskers. She turned to him and gave him a penetrating stare.
“You made a white rabbit appear out of a hat?”
Argus nodded his head, fully expecting her to write him a note telling Professor Dippet to accept him to Hogwarts at once. Instead, she turned to Lydia and informed her, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your son is a Squib.”
“But.. but the rabbit…” Lydia faltered.
Healer Jenkins sighed. “It’s a Muggle magic trick. It’s not really magic. It’s sleight of hand and the ability to distract the audience. Your son is apparently quite gifted at it but I sincerely doubt he can perform any real magic.”
Argus had never seen his mother look so hurt. Suddenly he wished very much that he had confided in her instead of Professor Dumbledore. Lydia had tears in her eyes and her voice was choked. “So… the flowers, the vanishing and… and everything… none of it was real?”
She looked at Argus almost pleadingly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I… I was afraid you wouldn’t love me anymore,” cried Argus.
Lydia looked stricken. She rushed across the room and hugged her firstborn tightly. “Argus, I’ll love you no matter what.”
Healer Jenkins coughed. She was not a woman taken to overly emotional displays and had a busy schedule to keep.
“We still have the problem of what is to be done about Argus.”
“What do you mean?” asked Lydia.
“Well, the boy is an eleven year old Squib. He can’t go to Hogwarts and because he’s escaped detection for the past four years and grown up in a wizarding household I doubt we can put him in Muggle school either.”
Lydia clutched Argus’s shoulders protectively. “Well he has to get some sort of an education! Surely, he could catch up enough to get into a Muggle school… He’d just have to be careful not to mention anything about our world.”
Healer Jenkins looked at the Fudges skeptically and turned to Argus. “Do you know how to operate a toaster?”
“Er… I don’t know what a toaster is, Ma’am,” replied Argus, deciding honesty would be a good policy with this annoyingly perceptive woman.
“I think that safely rules out a Muggle education,” replied Healer Jenkins, making a note on her clipboard. Lydia didn’t protest as she hadn’t the slightest notion what a toaster was either.
Healer Jenkins made a few other notes on her clipboard. “I think the best possible solution would be for Argus to apprentice in a Muggle magic shop. He obviously has an aptitude for it and I think I know just the place.”
She withdrew a business card and handed it to Lydia, telling her, “Inform the owner that I sent you. I expect he’ll be quite helpful.”
With that, Lydia and Argus understood themselves to be dismissed. Just as they were about to go inside, Lydia told Argus that it would probably be best if she broke the news to Archibald. Argus was only too glad to not be the one to tell his father. He hurried up to his room, ignoring the hooting of Twitters, Cornelius’s owl.
It wasn’t long before Archibald’s shouting resounded throughout the house. Argus couldn’t hear what his mother was saying in reply and decided to creep over to the staircase in hopes of overhearing.
“HE’S BEEN LYING ALL THIS TIME?!”
“Well, he thought he had to…”
“I WON’T HAVE A SQUIB SULLY THE REPUTATION OF THIS FAMILY!”
“Well you’re going to learn to live with it!”
“OH NO I’M NOT! THIS IS YOUR FAULT!”
“MY FAULT?” screamed Lydia. Her voice went down in volume but sounded deadly. “Do you think I want to live with the shame of being the mother of a Squib? Do you think I wanted any of this? How dare you say this is my fault?”
Tears blurred Argus’s vision. He hurried back to his room where he at least couldn’t hear his mother’s voice. Neither of his parents heard the footsteps overhead. Cornelius who had also been hiding in the shadows was the only one who knew what his brother had overheard.
Lydia and Archibald fought well into the night. Archibald had never been out-shouted before. In fact, he couldn’t recall Lydia ever having raised her voice to him. She had won and he had agreed to learn to live with having a Squib for a son. He hadn’t agreed to like it though.
A few days later when Twitters the owl killed Whiskers the rabbit, Archibald simply told Argus that these things happen. Argus ended up burying Whiskers by himself. Cornelius had offered to help but Argus was still angry with him and had threatened to punch him. Lydia had offered to help and even gave Argus her nicest tea towel to wrap Whiskers in. Argus thanked her for the towel but insisted on burying his pet alone.
Lydia was unaware that Argus had overheard what she’d said when fighting with her husband. The day after Whiskers’ funeral she took Argus to the place that Healer Jenkins had recommended.
Argus’s jaw dropped in shock upon seeing the name Black Magic. Working here wouldn’t be nearly as fun as being able to do real magic at Hogwarts, but it was the next best thing. Lydia nervously walked into the store and asked to speak with the owner.
“That would be me,” answered a friendly voice, “Pleased to meet you, I’m Marius Black.”
Lydia seemed slightly surprised but offered her hand and introduced herself and Argus, explaining, “We were sent here by Healer Jenkins… she thought perhaps Argus could apprentice with you.”
Marius looked at him skeptically and asked, “Can you show me a few tricks?”
Both Lydia and Marius were sufficiently impressed with the show Argus was able to put on for them. Marius told Lydia that Argus could come by for a few hours every day and apprentice with him. The pay wouldn’t be much, but it was better than nothing.
Lydia asked rather timidly, “When should he start?”
“Tomorrow’s fine,” answered Marius, “Sometime in the morning.”
Lydia thanked him and took Argus back home. Argus went through the woods, hoping to play with Tiberius and Barty but they still weren’t speaking to him. Argus wasn’t sure if it was because they were mad that he’d lied to them or because their mothers wouldn’t let them play with a Squib.
At dinner, Archibald completely ignored Argus, only speaking to Cornelius and Lydia. Lydia and even Cornelius tried to include Argus in the conversation but he didn’t really feel like talking anyway. His friends and his father were treating him like he was unclean and he was feeling quite sorry for himself.
The next day Marius showed him some of the newer stock at the magic shop. He couldn’t help but notice Argus’s lack of cheer and asked him what was wrong. Argus blurted out, “I’m a Squib! I’m disgusting and filthy, no one wants to be around me.”
Marius looked at him sternly and said, “Being a Squib is nothing to be ashamed of. Squibs are neither disgusting nor filthy and there are some more enlightened people who don’t mind spending time with a Squib.”
“How would you know?” asked Argus, sulkily.
“Because I’m a Squib too.”
Argus’s jaw dropped. He didn’t know what to say.
Marius ignored the look of disbelief on Argus’s face and continued, “I was born into the “Most Ancient and Noble family of Black”, my ancestry is as pure as anyone’s can be. When I was seven my mother realized that there wasn’t an ounce of magic in me and put me up for Muggle adoption. I completed a Muggle education and then opened a magic shop. We also sell some rather rare apothecary supplies in the backroom.”
Over the next few weeks Argus became more and more familiar with Black Magic and Marius Black. Marius was a skilled ‘magician’, a word that was new to Argus and which he greatly preferred to Squib. Every few weeks Marius would go off to do a magic show, performing his tricks and handing out business cards. Previously, he’d closed up shop during his shows but now Argus was left in charge of running Black Magic. It had taken Marius some time to explain to Argus how Muggle currency worked. Black Magic accepted both Muggle and wizard money, but they had to be certain to give back change in the same currency.
“The last thing we want is the Ministry snooping about in the shop,” explained Marius, gesturing to the backroom. The backroom contained a good deal of Class A Non-Tradeable Goods. This had initially worried Argus until Marius had explained that, technically, it wasn’t illegal.
“We’re Squibs, which are a special type of Muggle, therefore Wizarding Law doesn’t directly apply to us. Still, if they found out about it, they’d confiscate the whole lot of it and possibly try to modify our memories.”
“If you had a choice between being a wizard or a Squib, which would you choose?” asked Argus.
“Wizard, no doubt about it,” replied Marius. “But I don’t have a choice, I am a Squib and I plan to make the most of it.”
This hadn’t been the answer Argus was expecting, but after thinking it over a while, he decided that perhaps he should adopt a similar attitude.