Harry Potter Squib Tales Chapter 81: Rituals and Birthdays

Chapter 81: Rituals and Birthdays

“What do you think this is about?”

“Dunno. I was just told to come here.”

“Did you have to sign an NDA, too?”

“Of course.”

“Then it’s probably about magic.”

“Think it’s about whatever happened to Fetters?”

“Could be. Fetters can suddenly use runes and the talisman thingys without having to cut himself? Something is definitely up.”

“I hope it’s not about the company going under. This is the best job I’ve ever managed to get my hands on!”

“Yeah, I was barely getting by before I got hired. And I get to work with potions again, too, which is nice. I missed this after I was… thrown out.”

“Your parents tried to see if you could brew potions, but when you could barely do that they kicked you outta the house?”

“Yup.”

“Damn. Same.”

“I barely knew my parents. Ditched me on some orphanage’s doorsteps when I was just two. Got to say, I’m starting to think I was one of the lucky ones, not having to grow up around such bloody arses.”

“Oh, totally. Mum was a slag who married for money and never hid the fact I was a stain on the family for being born like I was. Almost relieved to be kicked out when I was fourteen.”

I lurked in the shadows, watching and listening as the seventy-nine people in the building chatted with each other, an anxious, nervous energy in the air.

All of them were Squibs that I’d hired, and who worked in the various businesses I owned. Thirty-four worked in the potion warehouses, eighteen were part of the recycling center crew, twenty were part of the Rune Department, the group that was working on applying runes to different objects and researching new ways to use them, and seven were part of the shipping company.

With Mark and myself, there were eighty-one Squibs in my employ, and that was, from what I’d been able to gather, a significant chunk of the Squibs in the country.

It didn’t seem like a lot, and really, there were maybe around three hundred more Squibs across the UK, but when you took into account the number of mages, it was a worrying number.

Nearly four hundred people were Squibs out of a population of ten thousand or so magicals. About four percent of the total magical population! That was utterly insane, especially considering that the numbers of Squibs being born to Purebloods was rising rapidly, and that the actual data was likely skewed because so many of us had been brutally murdered during Voldemort’s reign of terror. Wasn’t just Muggles he and his death-suckers had gone after.

I glanced at Mark, who was also listen with an amused smirk on his face. He shot me a thumbs up, and I rolled my eyes before taking the talisman on my chest and tearing it.

Immediately, the Notice-Me-Not charm I’d been under vanished, and I strode to the front of the room, people now able to see me.

Some jumped in surprise, others whispered even louder, but when I reached the podium and stepped up onto it, I smiled at the crowd.

“Hello, everyone. I’m glad to see everyone here today,” I said. Every one of the Squibs working for me had agreed to sign the contract and was here. It was insane, and I was touched by their trust in me.

‘Or perhaps it is their curiosity that drives them,’ I mused, before dismissing the thought. It didn’t matter. They were here, and that was the important part.

“Now, I’m well aware you all are wondering why you’re here. In fact, I’ve heard quite a few rumors about the reason,” I continued. “And I can confirm that it is indeed about Mark Fetter’s recent… changes. Come on up here, Mark.”

The night club owner, manager of my recycling center, and underworld contact tore his own obfuscation Ofuda and walked up to join me.

I handed him another Ofuda, this one containing a simple Lumos. He held it up, and with a flex of his mind and magic, it crumpled up and turned into a ball of light.

The people in the room stared, and I grinned at their shock. Then, I held up an Ofuda of my own, and activated it. This one was a Nox spell, and it wrapped around the Lumos orb, turned black, and extinguished it, the two pieces of paper falling to the ground, inert, the magic-infused ink burnt away.

“Yes. We both are able to use the talismans without having to sacrifice our blood or a potion, as was once necessary,” I told them, enjoying the utter disbelief on their faces.

“How?” somebody asked.

“Please don’t speak up without permission,” I said. “And I will explain everything.”

I drummed a finger on the podium as I swept my gaze over the gathered Squibs. “Two years ago, I went to France. There, I met Nicholas Flamel and his wife. While there, they took a liking to me, and taught me many thing. Including some interesting truths. One of which being they, themselves, were Squibs.”

That brought a wave of awed mutterings from the listeners. Everyone knew the legendary alchemist. And to hear he too had been a Squib? It was hard to imagine.

“One of the other things they taught me was a ritual. One they themselves had created,” I went on. “A ritual… to turn Squibs and Muggles into Witches and Wizards.”

This time, the silence was deafening. You could hear a pin drop, and the fly buzzing in one of the corners was the loudest thing in the room. And then, it exploded with noise as the Squib began to shout, scream, and demand answers.

“ZIP IT!” Mark shouted. “Calm yer tits everyone!”

“You have a way to give us magic?!” somebody shrieked. “And you kept it from us?!”

“How did you do it?!”

“Does it work on anybody?!”

I tried to get back on track, but my voice was overpowered by everyone elses. I held back the urge to sigh and roll my eyes, and used a Silencing Ofuda, the room descending into blissful silence, I continued.

“Thank you for being so calm about this,” I drawled sarcastically. “And yes, I have a ritual. I can recreate it, and I have done so for a few people already. However, there are caveats. It’s not perfect.”

I held up a finger. “For one, an adult Squib with this ritual being done on them cannot use wands or other foci to perform active magic. We can only use runes and pre-made magical artifacts and rituals, such as the talismans and enchanted objects. The reason for this isn’t fully understood, but as best as can be determined, we’re too old to take advantage of it. A Squib would have to be young, very young, to actually be able to use a wand for spells after receiving the ritual.”

A second finger rose. “Another thing that must be understood is that while you gain access to magic through the ritual, it is limited and takes a few weeks for the magical energy to fill you, so you can’t use it right away.”

People looked like they still had questions, but the Silencing spell made them keep ahold of their tongues, and I nodded, pleased by their restraint, and raised a third finger.

“Now, you will have some benefits once fully infused with magic. Namely, using items, wards, and rituals without needing to use your own blood or some other magical source to jumpstart it. And your bodies will become hardier and healthier than a Muggle or Squib. Indeed, it seems that even though we cannot use magic actively, our passive magic supports our body, making us even more durable and resistant to damage, with our natural healing also growing by leaps and bounds.”

This was a fact I’d only discovered by accident after getting a nasty cut from a kitchen knife. It had started healing in front of my eyes, and an hour later, it was completely gone without needing Wiggenweld potions or creams to speed up the healing process.

I healed faster now, much faster than even Harry, Sirius, or Remus could with similar injuries. And my strength… I was physically stronger. At least twice as much compared to before. Stamina was nothing to sneeze at, either.

Mages were already a lot more durable than regular folk, but now, Magi-Squib (I needed a better way to call Squibs and Muggles who’d gone through the ritual) like Mark and I were significantly better than that.

‘Likely due to the magic having nowhere else to go, so it’s passively reinforcing our bodies,’ I thought to myself.

The information stunned the assembled Squibs, and I repressed a grin before raising a fourth finger.

“Now, the final thing to keep in mind is the cost. The ingredients necessary for the ritual are bit expensive. Dragon’s blood isn’t cheap, same with some of the other materials.” Disappointment flashed across their faces, and I decided to cheer them up a bit.

“However, I have been working on improving the ritual and tuning it up, so to speak. I should be able to have the ritual affect more people at once. Though I can promise you this: all of you here will have the opportunity to go through with the ritual. You will be able to have magic.”

This caused them all to perk up, and I didn’t bother to hide the smile that crossed my face. Then, I tore the Silencing Ofuda, allowing noise to return to the room. “I will now answer questions. One at a time, though! And only speak when I point to you!”

Seeing that they were following my instructions and raising hands, I pointed at a middle-aged woman.

“If we become witches, what about our children?” she asked. “My daughter is a Muggle, she has no magic.”

“The ritual does affect Muggles. But I am not planning on using the ritual on too many Muggles just yet. If you want to have your family members obtain magic, you’ll need to wait for the ritual to be improved. However, any children you have after the ritual will have the same chance of becoming a mage as any other naturally born magical person conceiving a child,” I told her, before turning to another person.

“How does the ritual work?” the man asked. He had greying hair and a stubbly beard.

“Nicholas Flamel discovered the gene that determines Squibhood. To be more precise, he discovered what gene determines whether a person is born a mage, and devised a potent transmutation ritual that is designed to change the DNA of a person to contain that particular gene. Squibs have this gene, but it is non-functional for whatever reason,” I explained.

“Won’t people notice if a bunch of Squibs suddenly get magic?” a younger man asked when I pointed at him next.

“Possibly. But there won’t be any major outward changes. Perhaps you might unlock a latent magical ability, like a Metamorphmagi skill, though that is unknown if it’s possible. We certainly haven’t encountered something like that yet. But anyways, Squibs still won’t be able to use wands, and I think we all know that the magical folk don’t exactly see other forms of magic as anything worthy of note.”

Some heads nodded in agreement. For European witches and wizards, magic was determined by the ability to use a wand, and nothing else. It didn’t matter if they could suddenly use runes better or make potions easier. If you couldn’t waggle a stick and make a chicken turn into a feather duster, what was the point?

“Then, are we all going to get the chance to undergo this ritual?” another person inquired.

“Yes. You will, of course, have to sign a second contract beforehand and consent to undergoing a few medical evaluations to make sure nothing goes wrong with you, but that’s all. Before that, if you’re interested, you’ll be put on a waiting list that may take a few years to get through due to all the reasons I mentioned earlier,” I explained.

There were a few more questions, and I answered them as best I could. Most were easy, but a couple stumped me.

“No, the ritual can give you bigger pecker. I don’t think we’re going to create a ritual to do so, either,” I said, giving the man who’d asked that a disappointed look.

“Are there any other questions? Ones that aren’t as ridiculous?” I inquired, and a couple hands went down. “Alright. Guess that’s that.”

I clapped my hands, pleased by how many of them looked to be eager and excited by what I was offering. A couple were disappointed it wasn’t full wand-waving magical power, but they’d take what they could get.

‘And I might have to make a few extra stipulations in the contract to make allowances for sudden inheritances,’ I thought idly.

So many magical families got wiped out in both magical wars that odds were pretty high that some of the Squibs here were the last of their respective families, and could be set to be restored after they gained magic.

The goblins kept close track of everything to do with the money, and if an heir to a dead family appeared, they would know as one of their precious vaults would suddenly activate after being closed for a while. They wouldn’t like that, as dead vaults belonged to the Goblin Nation according to the (very stupid) treaties that had granted them control over the wealth of Magical Britain and Europe and they wouldn’t want to have to hand it back over.

Investigations would be made, and if they discovered there was a way for Squibs to obtain what had been lost to them for so long, well, there would be problems.

‘But that is Future Ed’s problem to deal with, not mine,’ I thought. Future-Me wouldn’t be happy, but he could suck it.

‘Lousy future-me. Hasn’t invented Time Travel yet to warn me about anything pitfalls or dangers that might be coming soon,’ I huffed.

Some time later the meeting was done, and I was free. I held back a yawn as I turned to Mark and shook his hand.

“Good work,” I told him. “Keep it up. And keep your ear to ground.”

“Can do, boss,” he replied. “Thanks for this. Lotta hope got rekindled with this.”

“Just doing what I gotta do. Squibs gotta Squib together,” I replied, and he nodded seriously.

“Damn straight,” he agreed.

We soon parted ways, and I had Inky pop me back to the office. I still had things to do.

111 &&& 111

“Happy Birthday, Ed!” Delilah said, giving me a peck on the cheek as I opened my apartment door. She was dressed simply in jeans and a light jacket, but if one looked closer, they were all designer brands worth ten times the amount of a normal outfit.

“Thanks,” I said happily, returning the kiss. “Ready to go?”

“Sure am!” she said eagerly. “I can’t wait for you to show me around!”

“Alrighty, then. Grab on,” I said, offering her my arm. She took it, and then, when I held out a handkerchief embroidered with red diamonds, she placed her hand on it.

“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” I said with a grin, and then, with a pop, we were no longer in my London flat, but a lush garden that was in full bloom with spring flowers.

“Welcome to my little home away from home in New Orleans,” I said, waving a hand around the garden.

Yes, that was right, we were across the pond in the USA for a bit of a birthday dinner. Well, technically, it’d be lunch since it was technically ten in the morning here right now. New Orleans was six hours behind the UK, but we were still looking forward to it all the same.

“So, this is your new place?” she asked, looking around the garden, before examining the manor it was connected to.

“It is,” I said with a nod, tucking the Portkey away into a pocket. “Let me show you around.”

We wandered through the garden paths for a bit. I showed her the ponds as well as the greenhouses where the more exotic and magical plants were grown, before heading to the manor. The doors swung open when we got closer, revealing a young, bespectacled blonde woman in a proper French maid’s outfit.

“Welcome, Master Rose,” Carlotta, the head maid-slash-secretary for the former Flamel estate, said in greeting as we approached the back doors of the mansion.

“Morning,” I said. “This is Delilah. Though you likely already know that.”

“Yes, we know,” Carlotta replied, coolly appraising my girlfriend. “We know all of your associates.”

I snorted at that, and Delilah giggled. “I like her,” she said. “Reminds me of mother’s head of staff.”

“That the one who threatened me with a potato peeler if I ever made you cry?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” she said with a grin, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I led her inside.

“It’s a nice mansion,” Delilah commented as I showed off the interior. “Wouldn’t be out of place as a house I’d go to for a party back home in London.”

“I probably won’t be having too many house parties here, if only because it’d be tricky to get all of the guests here without revealing magic to them.”

“Yes, such a shame,” Delilah hummed. “I suppose you’ll have to settle for that penthouse suite you’re working on.”

“That should be finished before September,” I told her. “The dwarves do good work. Fast and efficient.”

“That is fast,” she hummed. “I’d have expected renovations for an entire apartment complex to take quite a bit longer.”

“Well, the dwarves don’t exactly have a lot of other business contracts right now, so they can spare the extra hands,” I said with a shrug. “Anyways, I want to show you the dinosaur bones.”

Seeing her face lit up in glee as she examined the massive collection of fossils the Flamels had collected over the years was truly staggering. They had been a major force in the world of archeology for centuries. Partly due to being interested in it, but also to keep certain fossils out of the hands of mundane scholars. They didn’t need to stumble across dragon bones, after all.

After she’d toured the private museum and been shown the arcade and home theater, we left the house for a trip into New Orleans. We had the chauffeur drive us around, and toured a few of the sites visitors were always encouraged to visit. In general, we enjoyed having the day to ourselves without worrying about kidnappers and assassins.

When we were done, it was almost two in the afternoon local time, and we headed back to the estate for a hearty meal of authentic Louisiana gumbo made by Jumbo, the Ruby Manor’s chef.

“That was delicious!” she said, thanking him as the dishes were removed by Song and Aoi, the other two maids.

“He’s very good,” I agreed.

“Always glad to hear compliments,” Jumbo chuckled. “So, when are we gonna see that kid again?”

“Harry’s busy at school, but he will come over when he gets a chance. I'll make sure of it," I promised.

“We saw what he did in the papers,” Song, the Kumiho, said with sparkling eyes. “Did he really summon a spirit of yore around Christmas?”

“Didn’t know that information had reached this far,” I muttered.

“Of course it would, master,” Aoi, the Yuki-Onna, said. “Magical Britain may be backwards as a cat going the wrong way, but news of a genuine spirit summoning – the first in over a century! – would end up being spread around.”

“First he killed a Basilisk, then called up a spirit,” Delilah muttered. “And in his first year he confronted Quirrelmort. What’s in store for him next year?”

I snorted at her use of the possessed teacher’s nickname, but eventually overcame my mirth.

“Nothing, if I have anything to say about it,” I replied. Sirius, Remus, and I had… plans for curtailing anything that might happen during his 4th Year and the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

“That’s a relief,” Delilah said. “Honestly, the more I hear about Hogwarts, the more I think it was a relief I wasn’t born a witch.”

“Probably,” I agreed. “It will need serious reforms to be considered up to par with modern educational matters.”

“Well, I’m sure you also have plans for that,” Delilah teased, and I smirked right back at her. She then gained a look of curiosity. “Speaking of plans, what about Sir Briar? How have things been going on that front?”

“It’s going well,” I said, politely ignoring how the rest of the household discreetly began listening in. “I’m down several percent stock-wise, and I’ve had to sell some things to ‘break even.’”

“That sounds like things are going poorly,” she noted.

“They are. But that’s the point, isn’t it?” I assured her. “I give it another fortnight before Sir Briar approaches me. And then, the stage will be set for step two.”

The illusion of weakness I’d woven was complete, mostly because it wasn’t really an illusion. I was losing money, and fast.

Officially, and based on public records available to the mundane factions working against me, I could hold out for another three months assuming nothing changed, for better or worse. In truth, it was closer to two years thanks to my ‘secret’ accounts with Gringotts and the fact that most of my ingredients and resources came from the magical side, which had significantly cheaper prices in comparison.

My enemies would circle, thinking me to be weak, only to discover I was merely using the blood as bait.

“Now, enough business talk! Jumbo said something about beignets for dessert, and I adored the ones he made last time I was here!”

111 &&& 111

“That was quick,” I murmured, looking at two things as I sat at my dining room table. It was rather late and I should have been getting ready for bed by now, but I had important work to do.

One of the items I was looking at was a series of documents detailing my current financial situation, at least in regards to Avalon Industries. Thanks to some… reckless spending and unwise decisions, stocks had tanked across the board. I didn’t exactly have a lot in the first place, being so new, but it was clear investors were spooked by so many whammies hitting me all at once.

On the other hand, my PR blitz had shifted public perception just as I’d hoped. People loved me, or at least they hated the idea of the big, bad government stepping on a self-made man. I was trending well, and the highly publicized legal cases were making my name well-known in London.

Next to the documents was a single letter, delivered by hand by a man in an expensive suit who’d worn a very smug and condescending smile. It contained exactly what I had thought it would: an offer from Sir Briar for a ‘meeting’ with me to discuss ‘the future path my business with Gladstone Financial should take.’

I knew what it really was: a ‘generous’ offer to take control of my companies in exchange for getting all of the problems currently plaguing me to disappear.

It had also been delivered this evening, on April Fool’s Day, officially my twentieth birthday in the mundane world, right after Delilah left the apartment.

‘I should have expected something as petty as this from him,’ I thought to myself. Yes, dropping this in my lap not only when I was supposedly at my lowest but on a day I should be celebrating another year was like a one-two punch.

Were I naïve and unaware of the schemes happening the dark, I would have considered it a birthday wish come true to have all of my problems taken care of my somebody who was, ostensibly, on my side.

Yet I wasn’t a fool, despite the day of my birth, and I knew exactly what he was doing.

‘Though I have to admit I didn’t expect this to happen so soon,’ I thought to myself.

Bad as things were for me and my businesses, it wasn’t actually nearly as dire as it seemed. I could easily hold out for another few months, no sweat. I just wanted to create the illusion of struggling, and he must have bought it wholesale.

‘Sir Briar must have been spooked when I began talking with his business partner and rival, Mr. Hunt,’ I mused. To help sell it and make it seem like I was doing badly, I’d asked Delilah to speak to her father and set up a few meetings with him so we could discuss ‘business.’

Sir Briar must have been worried that I would take an offer from Mr. Hunt instead of himself. Not exactly wrong, either. In another world I might have swallowed my pride to ask my girlfriend’s father for help had I no other choice.

The bitter old man couldn’t allow that to happen, though, hence the invitation sent my way earlier than expected.

Or perhaps he’d been influenced by the radio interview I’d done with Big Ben? My claim of working on a cure for Alzheimer’s, only for it to be put on the backburner by politics and dirty business… well, it had stirred up a shitstorm not even I’d expected.

I’d really underestimated how much the public would react. Nobody wanted their elderly relatives to suffer a slow, painful descent into dementia, sure, but the outpouring of support had caused over a dozen government officials involved in the ‘investigations’ into the allegations of tax evasion and zoning law violations to suddenly be ‘reassigned’ and a few were now being investigated themselves.

Half of the lawsuits against me were dropped as well. Lawyers were ditching clients and those who weren’t were a lot more polite to my own legal teams, where before there had been sneering contempt.

The sheer speed of the turnaround after Big Ben’s interview aired a couple days ago was astonishing to me, and I couldn’t help but think that this had also influenced the bitter old man into reaching out to me sooner than he’d likely planned.

And, maybe, Sir Briar was also worried about losing out on a medicine that could potentially keep his mind razor sharp. He wasn’t getting any younger, after all.

‘Still, this was the whole point in the first place. Get Sir Briar to invite me over so I can get close enough to manipulate his mind,’ I thought as I absentmindedly tapped on the desk. ‘Well, no reason to keep waiting any longer. Time to finish this.’

I reached over to my phone, and patiently dialed in the number that had been included with Sir Briar’s message.

“Ring… Ring… Ring… Click!”

“Mr. Rose. I was wondering when you would call.”

“Hello, Mr. Briar,” I said, suppressing a grin and trying to make my voice sound contrite and desperate. “I’m sorry to bother you so late in the evening, but I’d like to talk about taking you up on that incredibly generous offer of yours.”

“Of course, Mr. Rose,” the old man said, and I could hear the barely smugness in his tone. “I am truly sorry that it had to come to this.”

“Thank you,” I breathed out, stifling my own smirk. “When should we meet?”

“I can make time tomorrow evening… if that works for you?”

“Yes! Absolutely!” I replied. “Thank you, again, Sir Briar! You’ve truly made this a wonderful birthday!”

“Anything for my business partner,” Sir Briar said, before hanging up on me.

Once the call was over, I put the phone back into the cradle and smiled happily. I recognized the way he’d hung up before me as a common power play tactic, to show who had control in the situation. I didn’t mind. Everything I wanted was achieved.

“Seems like I have a dinner party to prepare for,” I said aloud to myself, not bothering to hide my satisfaction.

Tomorrow, I would be in control of my destiny once more.

111 &&& 111

Author's Note: Happy Fourth of July! Enjoy a bonus chapter today!