#Squib

[the-colourful-witch]

🧹Argus Filch 🧹

When I said I’m drawing every character, I meant it :) Even the biggest turds get a stage ✨

When sketching out this character, I channeled all the misery I felt in me (I had to dig deep🥲) and came out with this. Now, I know that the original text describes Filch with long hair, like in the films, but I took some creative liberty. I felt it was too easy to draw him with greasy long hair and wanted to explore a different style for him.

I wanted Filch to genuinely look disturbing. When you’re an eleven-year old student running around Hogwarts and this old git comes hobbling after you, screaming obscenities, you might actually pee your pants a bit… I know I would. My 11-year old self would have been terrified of this man. And that’s what I came here to do; to terrify children 😌

I hope you like this design as much as me. It’s deliciously miserable🤗

[rottenherbs]

Just a Squib (pt.8)

Pairing: F.W x Potter! Reader Summary: You had enough courage to hear Fred out, but what could he say to change your mind about him?  W/C: 2.3k A/N: heheh i got a request to do another part ! This is so dramatic but I feel it needs to be? Angst angst angst  [masterlist] Much Love, Saige 

Frustration didn’t even begin to explain the feeling of animosity that coursed through your veins. Hot, white, anger peeled at your skin, your arms itched in fear of even being around that man. You felt deep down that he was stalking you, not only just at the library but for the past year.

Something told you that you were in danger, your life was being dictated by his presence; and now you walked with him to some destination to hear out his side of the story. 

How could you be so stupid? 

So many alarms went off in your head as you kept in pace just behind him, keeping yourself slightly in distance in hope that you could flee if the situation needed to be. Your nails dug into your palms, using any way to ground yourself. The pain giving you a sense of control, a sense of self.

Fred kept looking back at you every few steps in fear that you would disappear. The walk was silent, both of you trying to get to the coffee shop as fast as possible. He wanted to make sure you felt safe, but it started to weigh in his mind how this all looked from your perspective. 

His head ached in pain; partially from just trying to keep up with you by the library, but also from the mental cloud that covered his psyche. How in godric's name would he ever be able to explain this situation to you. Would you ever trust him again?

For years he dreamt of being the knight in shining armor, the one who would save you and bring you back to your family, back to him… It was all so simple in his head. Every night planning and imagining how you’d run back into his arms. 

You’d meet, you’d fall in love, you’d gain his trust. How he would hold your hands and tell you in confidence everything that has happened, and you’d be able to reset your memories with the help of rare, powerful magic. 

But he was the one who cursed you. He was the one who took your memories away. He was the one who sent you off in a town you never lived in to start a life over. He was the one who watched you from a distance, albeit to protect, but to shroud in corners, watching from the shadows. 

The adrenaline created a thick tart taste on Freds tongue as you both entered the coffee shop. The memory of your first true meeting. How you looked in line, how he sat with the muggle newspaper in the corner, heart beating out of his chest. You were so beautiful. So independent. So strong. 

Now you cowered in fear behind him, every step he took you were hesitant, now you being the one who watched him closely. 

You observed him search around the coffee shop purposefully. The seats were all taken up by happy customers, chatting and gabbing causally. Both of you felt out of place, the welling of time suddenly ceasing, the quick succession of movement in front of the library to here felt like a rush, now arriving you both felt like you hit a wall, an awkward transition awaiting. 

Turning to face you, Fred's face was solemn, almost childlike. He tried to keep a safe distance away from you, feeling your resentment towards him like a sharp knife, twisting and turning in his chest. He took a deep breath in before speaking, his hands firmly placed in his jacket pockets. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He stuttered, his voice was shaken and low. The question felt rhetorical, he asked out of necessity, out of politeness.

You sighed, your hands mirroring his, deeply tucked in your pockets. You gripped the fabric tightly, shaking from the tension. 

“Waters fine-“ you mumbled, eyes bouncing around the shop looking for any opportunity for an open seat, hoping someone was ready to leave. But the shop stayed busy. Customers stayed situated in their spots. 

Freds eyes lingered on your face, biting the inside of his lip. You both stayed silent as the line moved, trying not to linger next to each other too closely. If someone looked at you both from the outside, you could be mistaken for strangers. 

You did your best to try to keep your eyes off of Fred, continuously watching your surroundings for an opportunity to sneak a set of chairs. The faster you could get this over with the better. 

Your turn to order came around and Fred took the courage to speak for you both. At the same time, a pair of barstools were freed and you made no haste walking over and leaving him at the counter. Taking a seat you attempted to soothe your nerves, breathing in and holding it, using any method to calm your racing heart. 

You had a few minutes to yourself at the bar, watching the baristas work tirelessly on the continuous orders, the rapture of their movements alleviated the unending thoughts in your mind, pacifying your senses alongside the repetitive nature of the coffee beans grinding. You could almost forget for a moment why you were there in the first place. 

Quickly pulled from your daze, Fred set down a glass of water in front of you, making himself comfortable at the seat to your right. He sat in silence, situating his straw into his cup, his hands firmly crushing the receipt in his hands fiddling aimlessly with the creases before tossing it to the side. 

“I’m not sure where to start.” He mumbled, holding his drink lightly, his thumb rubbing against the cup and wiping away the condensation. He wished he could throw it, break the cup between his hands or run out of the room. The pain of the moment was becoming unbearable. He wished the cup was colder, that it would spike through his palm with frost and distract his mind with pain. 

You could see the trouble on his face, almost like a lost child. As if maybe it wasn't an act to hurt you. He didn’t bring you here to murder you or confess his feelings of stalking.

Confusion swept your mind, slowly turning to face him, holding back your words. He would be the one to start the conversation, you would just listen. 

Fred took a large gulp of air in, holding it til his lungs burned, letting it out slowly through his nose, closing his eyes in the process. 

“None of this will make sense, but please just.. listen to it all before leaving.” He began. 

“You have a brother, the bravest kid I have ever met in my life. Younger than you — but.. different.” His words were slow, almost breaking between sentences in anticipation that you’d burst from your chair and flee. As you continued to sit, he continued to speak.  

”You two lost your parents at a young age by the hands of a foul villainous creature, blood thirsty for purity and traditional values.” He paused, looking over at you, your eyes and body language didn’t move, but your brain attempted to keep up. He gulped, looking back at his hands before continuing. 

“We come from a different world. Me, you, your brother. You have so many people that love you y/n. A chosen family.” He caught the words in his mouth, unable to consider whether or not he dared explain his love for you. How deeply you two have shared a bond. But instead he continued. 

“The world has witches and wizards, able to duel and wield magic. Real magic, not that bullshit fairy tale stuff, but real powerful magic. It’s beautiful, but broken severely by those who wished to keep it refined from those who dont fit a specific look.” Fred spat, disgusted by the words he said. Anger welled within him as he explained, unable to explain the distaste and all of the loss that death eaters had given him; but instead he attempted to stay in line, just to explain the basics until you had questions.  

“The  same person who killed your parents has been hunting your brother since he came of age, hunting all of those related or close to him, but you weren’t born with magical abilities.” Fred explained, his hands now place firmly on the counter top, his voice low and shaken. He spoke like he was telling a bedtime story, all of it made up, all of it fictional. Nothing felt real to you, just words being spoken. It couldnt be about you. None of it made sense. 

“You had to be protected, in other ways. Muggle- I mean… Non-magical fighting” he cleared his throat, scrambling his head for words that made more sense to you. “We had to separate you from the fight. They wanted to kill you y/n, these people-“

”You’re out of your mind” You scoffed, almost humorous to what he spoke of.  “This doesn’t explain anything, this is all just.. bullshit” you laughed, sitting up in your chair. Your mind flooded with questions, with unanswered memories, with large walls that built themselves just before you could remember anything of substance, anything that could relate to what he spoke of. Muggles? Wizards? 

“No listen..” Fred shifted, turning to face you in the stool. His legs sitatied on either side of yours. His eyes shooting down at you, soft yet concerned.  “You were everything they didn’t want in the wizard in world. Someone who didn’t wield magic infultrating the space of pure bloods. To get to Harry they had to get to you-“

”Harry?” You mumbled, the name swiftly sticking, a feeling of nostalgia behind it, an unbiased warmth that came as the letters fell off your tongue. Fred breathed in quickly, his mouth slightly agape, watching your eyes bounce around the table, your brain using any attempt to piece together how that name meant something. 

“Your brother. Younger by two and a half years.” He smiled, his face reflecting how sweet Harry was. You could see how deeply Fred cared about him. “He’s like a brother to me… I’d do anything for him. For you..” he smiled, facing you.

Your face was stoic, almost reflective of how confused and dumbfounded this information was. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t make sense. Magic? You had a million questions but none at the same time. 

“Unfortunately.” Fred started again, his smile quickly dropping. “We were all spending time together, my older brother was to be married, and those who hunted us found out and demolished the celebration. It was brutal, disgusting..” his voice trailed off, the lasting pain still hurt for him to think about. 

“They wanted you.” He stifled. His movements became fidgety, his eyes blinking more rapidly as he peeled the skin on his fingers. 

“We had to get you out of there. It was unsafe. The world just became so unsafe for you.” A single tear fell from his eye, not bothered to wipe it away. 

“I took your memories. All of them. Any trace of your family, your brother, the magic. Of us.” 

You stayed silent, the gravity of the situation suddenly weighing on you. It didn’t feel like a story anymore, it felt as a retelling of life, of trauma, of something he regrets deeply. 

A pain seethed through your chest, your heart almost beating out to grab him, to hold him, unknowing to you. You felt a tie to him that was just revealed, a wall broken down in your mind that opened to something familiar. 

“Of us…” you whispered, your eyes welling. The shop around you felt clouded; the conversations dulled as you both spoke, only able to hear each others breath, the sound of your hands tapping on the counter, the sniffles. The conversation felt undeniably private within the very public space. 

“Years y/n. We had something so beautiful. I never wanted this, I just.. wanted you to be safe. Be alive.” He sobbed, his hands clasping his face as he allowed the tears to flow. Your hand quickly lifted to rub his back, the sensation making him flinch at the touch, but relaxed after a moment. “I couldn't see them take you away from me, so we did it on our own.” 

“Were we … married?” You asked, afraid of the answer. You weren’t sure whether it was more heartbreaking if you were or not. 

“No..” he sniffled, stifling a sudden laugh, the thought making his heart swell. “But don’t think I wasn’t ready to ask.” He laughed, wiping his face roughly, the tears ceasing momentarily. 

“But we all watched you. We took you to London ourselves. We made sure you were never in trouble, not in harm's way. Seems way creepier when I say it aloud but-“

“No.. I understand.” You confirmed, suddenly feeling very silly how upset you had gotten, but you fought your questions of proof, none of it had any gauge of being anymore than fable. 

Fred took a glance at you, your arm still rubbing soft circles on his back as he hunched over the counter top. He prayed you didn’t see him as a threat anymore. That you had any resemblance of what was before. 

“Take me to them.” You asserted. His eyes widened at your suggestion. You were sure of it, if it was true then he’d show proof. Otherwise what was there to lose. 

“I don’t kno-“ Fred retorted, quickly behind cut off by you -

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? It’s all quite confusing.” You choked, fighting back your own tears. You attempted to be brave, to be open to the possibilities of having answers to your lost memories. 

“Please.” You whispered, bringing your arm back to your lap, holding your hands together tightly. Your brows furrowed, anger attempting to cover your sadness, failing all together. Fred stared at you sympathetically, trying to understand what you may of been feeling, sighing in defeat. How would the others react?

“Okay... Let me make a call.” 

(next part)

[pigeonconcert]

[nativesnaper]

Comfort show, I love all these little goobers

[yukiwhitetm]

Just seen Wicked on the big screen (Amazing! Loved that I could see their facial expressions, which I couldn't in the West End) and it inspired a little Tim Drake prompt in me. Sorry if this isn't super coherent, as I'm disabled so now I'm v. tired.

OK, so this is also inspired a little by that one story where Tim was a street kid who snuck into the Drakes' mansion and squatted there, then pretended to be the Drake's bio kid Jackson Drake when he became Robin (somewhere in my AO3 bookmarks). And by this one White Collar (I've never watched the TV series but still enjoy the crossover fics) crossover I have open in a tab but not yet read where Tim has a twin Tom who becomes Neal while Tim is Red Robin, according to the blurb.

Tim Drake Prompt:

To the outside world, Timothy Drake is the perfect son and heir, a boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth and waited on hand and foot by his staff and family. However, the outside world only sees what it was meant to see.

To Tim Drake of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Drake, he was born a squib in a long line of witches and wizards. He was born lesser than his parents Jack and Janet Drake, his younger sister Athena "Tina" Drake and the whole wizarding world. (We don't discriminate, his parents say, gesturing at his sister's wheelchair.) He was born lesser than their ancestors' wands and the magical artefacts slotted into every corner and crevice of their mansion. While his parents go swanning off all over the world with Tina in tow to discover long lost secrets of their magical past, Tim is left knocking about the large empty mansion alone, not even a house elf in sight (they travelled with the family, obviously).

Tim was born into a world that didn't accommodate him, in fact outright excluded and hated him. Born into a magical world that no majs can never know of but made for a no maj world, Tim doesn't fit in anywhere. He can't live in the magical world... but he can't ignore it either.

Until he becomes Robin III. Sort of. Maybe? He hopes so, one day...

Jason (and then later Damian) would like to disagree.

I struggle so much with chronic fatigue that I don't think I could ever write this prompt into a full story. Sorry it's a bit of a long prompt! I'm a lengthy writer. Feel free to write this, just credit me!

[myvaginacalledmehomo-blog]

lily would have never done that to dudley :) with petunia, even if harry was a squib he'd still meet that fate.

[bagofcheetodust]

[moonytoast-x]

if anyone wants a really really good long fic to read, about regulus surviving the inferi but becoming a squib in the process - then eventually rescuing Harry from the dursleys and being his dad throughout Hogwarts, then please read More than Magic!!! its one of my favorite fics ever, it's really well thought out and the characterization of reg is the best I've seen in a (somewhat) canon compliant story like this. its really deep and it's funny and sweet too and djdjdnskkd read it!!

[squibwashereat3am]

Some Mouth-washing fan-art if u will ✨

[downthedraincomic]

Brandon is an ankle biter.

Uh huh

[darka-art]

One day you draw fantasy stuff full of magic, then the very next day, you go full violence.

🛑

© 2021 Warhammer 40K belong to Game workshop

Art is mine, do not trace/edit, clams as your own

[moonstruckmoony]

Papa Blackstone featuring baby Winter ❄️🩵

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sebastian Sallow: “He’s very knowledgeable. Despite lacking magical abilities, his deep understanding of our world puts us wizards to shame.”

Ominis Gaunt: “Ah, I think I see where your quest for knowledge came from, Winter.”

Winter Blackstone: “Well, back then when I still considered myself a squib like my father, all of my magical knowledge came from him.”

(Excerpt from “Sweet-scented Recollections Pt. 1”, a 3-part audio fanfic on my TikTok!)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Name: William Jude Blackstone

Blood status: Squib

Marrital Status: Widowed

Spouse: Jane Frostine Blackstone (née Baudelaire) †

Occupation: Undertaker (Mortician)

William Blackstone was born as a squib, but despite lacking magical abilities he’s always fond of the wizarding world. Every chance he gets, he picks up any wizarding book he can gets his hands on, some from his family’s library or his sister’s school books, and others he obtained himself. This hobby follows him well into his adulthood. He held out hope that his daughter Winter won’t turn out like him, considering his wife is an excellent and talented witch. He had his suspicions about Winter because she doesn’t show signs of magical abilities in the age where she’s supposed to. Both him Winter were heartbroken when she didn’t get her Hogwarts letter at the age of 11, solidifying his suspicions that she’s also a squib, and he blamed himself for it.

A few months after, he took his daughter to the Guisachan in Glen Affric, Invernshire, home of the Marjoribanks, whom William was loosely acquainted with. (Disclaimer: this relationship is totally fictional) He wanted to get a dog to cheer Winter, as she was still saddened by the fact that she doesn’t have magic. She then picked a male puppy who has coats of fur unusually lighter than its siblings, took him home and named him Snowball.

When Winter turned 15, both of them were very surprised to receive an enrollment letter from Hogwarts, accompanied with the arrival of Professor Fig. As this is a very unusual phenomenon that he is very intrigued by, he kept in touch with Winter via Owl as she embarked on her magical education while he try to research if anything like this has ever happened before. Later he turned his research course into the mysterious ancient magic as soon as Winter sent him an Owl about her puzzling, newly-found abilities.

Headcannon: Winter urged Sebastian to stay in her home during the 5th year summer holidays as she can see that he feels conflicted about returning to Feldcroft and tagging along with Ominis to the Gaunts’ Manor doesn’t seem like a good option. He was about to stay in Hogsmeade and get a summer job but in the end he accepted her offer and spent the rest of his summer holidays in the Blackstone’s estate, where he got acquainted to William Blackstone.

[lynx-doodles-indie-games]

i'mma be busy for the next few weeks so i'll be refraining from posting new drawings until january 2nd! thank you all for sticking with me!

friendly reminder that if you want me to doodle something, feel free to ask so long as it doesn't conflict with my guidelines! i'll see about getting to them :D

also just like. ask me things. i like getting asks and answering them lol

[princesspuffle8]

Alioth Sirius Black

Your second child with Regulus had him questioning a lot of things. Although he loved his son with all his heart, this baby of yours was born without magical abilities. A squib. Which sent Regulus into a bit of an emotional spiral: questioning his pure blood status and the atrocities the black family did in the name of it, whether or not he would be a good parent to a non-magical child, whether his magical child would hate or resent him and his family for not having magical abilities, how you both would raise a non-magical child…

It was all a lot to take in, however with your support (coming from muggles yourself) and with the slow but steady exposure to muggle culture and debunking the stereotypes about it, his worries were slowly confronted and cured.

Alioth Sirius Black. He gave his son his brother’s name as his middle name because secretly he has always looked up to Sirius as his big brother. His baby boy has his grey eyes and your hair and skin tone. His nickname is Ali or Alio. 

His personality is more introverted but he greatly enjoys sports. Growing up he wanted so badly to be a quidditch player like his dad and it broke both your heart and Regulus’s when he learned that he couldn’t become one. But despite this, Regulus was determined to help his baby boy find his niche sport. He let him try out everything. Basketball, football (soccer and the American version), golf, tennis, karate, gymnastics, wrestling, you name it he let his kid try it. And it turns out, he’s a water baby. Is an amazing and very fast swimmer and loves the water. Also enjoys fishing and boating (Regulus bought him his own boat because of this). 

Regulus is a VERY involved parent. He shows up to all the muggle swim meets (early because being on time is being late in his mind). He also made sure that he enrolled his child into the best private school money could buy. He is the epitome of the PTA dad and often gets into petty squabbles with the PTA moms, which he rants to you about. And even though he was happy to spoil his child with monetary things (that’s how he was shown “love” growing up) you are quick to remind him that love doesn’t come from what you can buy but being there and spending time with your children. So he takes this to heart and makes sure to spend equal time with both of your kids and you. And lots of family vacations. Both to magical places and muggle ones too. 

All in all Alioth grows up super loved.

[fiishii]

OOMF DO YOU WANT MY PIKMIN SON

HES FAT AND UGLY AND YOU HAVE TO FEED HIM 20 POUNDS OF CHOCOLATE EVERY HOUR

yes

[joka13]

FANFICTION (REQUEST): George Weasley x Squib Reader (Female) - Empathy - Part 2

WARNINGS: mentions of death

You had an unexpectedly wonderful time.

You opened your birthday gifts, receiving a book from your mother, a scarf (knitted by Mrs. Weasley) from the Weasley family, and a simple though lovely pair of silver earrings mailed from your grandmother.

It seemed childish at first, but you enjoyed having "Happy Birthday" sung to you as your mother carried your cake to the table. You closed your eyes, making a wish as you blew out the candles and everyone cheered.

After being dished a slice, you brought your dessert and new book to the living room couch. You took your sweet time opening to the first page, smiling at the popping sound of the book's fresh binding and running your fingers over the clean, smooth paper.

Soft chuckling startled you away from your delight. You hadn't noticed George, who stood in the doorway to the dining room. He leaned against the frame casually with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on you.

"Oh, excuse me! Am I interrupting something?" he teased.

"No, no!" you laughed, feeling a bit embarrassed that he caught you in a vulnerable moment. You closed your book and set it on a side table for later. "Come in."

He did. George sat down on the other end of the sofa in a slouch, sighing leisurely. "What I'd give to feel the way you looked just now," he sniggered. He meant it jokingly, but the distant look in George's eyes abruptly reminded you of his brother's passing, making his comment seem very sad.

You laughed, trying to keep the mood light. "Nothing makes me so happy as opening a brand-new book. There's something so... satisfying about it."

George nodded. "Hmm... I think I remember feeling similarly when I was younger every time I opened a chocolate frog. I used to collect—"

You gasped in excitement, cutting him off. "I remember those! My dad used to bring them home for me... every now and then..." You trailed off as you remembered vaguely your father telling you about a particular chocolate frog card featuring a famous witch.

"Ah, that's right. You're... probably not buying much wizard candy these days," said George, and you're thankful that he continued the topic of sweets instead of your father.

"Nope," you said bluntly. "Even if I tried, I don't think I could. I assume I'm not allowed."

George surprised you with a disbelieving snort. "There's no way you wouldn't be allowed. You're a... a squib..." He paused, as if expecting you to be offended, but you only waited patiently for him to go on. "Not a muggle. As far as I know, no one should reject you, especially candy shops."

"Really?"

"Really. And if they did, it'd most likely be for your own safety." He laughed. "Now that I think about it, I definitely wouldn't want you in my shop without my close supervision."

"You own a candy shop?" you asked in astonishment.

He chuckled smugly, taking pleasure in your amaze. "I do! Well, I sell more than candy. It's a joke shop really."

"Oh, I wish I could see it!" you groaned and imagined all of the fantastic things you were missing out on.

George's expression changed to something of consideration. "Now that you know you're allowed, the only reason you don't is because you have no way of getting there, correct?" he asked.

"...Pardon?"

He gave a lop-sided smile and sat up straight, leaning toward you in excitement. "How would you like to come with me? To my shop I mean. I can even show you 'round all of Diagon Alley if you'd like!"

"Really?"

George laughed. "Really!"

"I would like that very much!" you said, grinning ecstatically, but your smile began to fade away. "Although... I'll have to talk over it with my mother first. She worries about me enough already..." It was then that you started to worry. You'd always dreamed of exploring places where witches and wizards gathered, let alone the famed Diagon Alley. But, since the Weasley's made you feel so happy that night, you'd forgotten for a time about your new little fear of magic until now.

George seemed to notice your anxiety. "Well, you can tell her that you'll be in good hands," he said cheerily. "I know that spot like the back of my hand, and we'll only do what you want to."

His words comforted you only somewhat. It wasn't that you didn't trust George; he was a childhood friend. You were more concerned about the other wizarding folk you might encounter in Diagon Alley.

At that moment, your mother walked into the room carrying a full tea tray. "Hello," she said as she set the tray down on the mini table in front of you and George. "I thought this would go nicely with the cake."

"Thanks, Mrs. y/l/n!" said George, moving to pour you and himself a cup.

"Yes, thank you," you said, though it was only out of politeness. Something about the way Mum was acting seemed suspicious.

She nodded. "You're very welcome." When you expected her to leave and go back to conversing with George's parents, she didn't. "I couldn't help but overhear something about a trip to Dragon Alley," Mum said, and you could tell she was trying to mask enthusiasm.

Ah, there it is, you thought to yourself.

"It's Diagon Alley. And yeah, George offered to take me. That is, if it sits well with you," you said. You weren't yet entirely sure if you wanted to go, but Mum's opinion would solidify your decision either way.

"Oh, of course!" Mum responded, all too encouraging, and you wondered if she had been intentionally eves-dropping on your conversation with George. "You are an adult now, your own person! You don't need me to tell you what to do or not do. Just stay safe and have fun! Enjoy the tea!" And with that, Mum went back to sit with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the dining room.

George sipped his tea noisily to catch your attention, eyeing you with raised eyebrows.

You chuckled awkwardly. "I suppose that's out of the way now..."

"My schedule is open on Thursday," he said and proceeded to drink his tea whilst staring at you.

"Hmm... Alright. Let's do it."

"I'll pick you up at 10:00?"

"That's fine."

"It's a date then!" George stated gladly, placing his empty cup back on the tray.

You weren't sure of what he meant exactly when he said "date", but all that really mattered to you at that moment was the fact that you had plans to visit Diagon Alley. The Diagon Alley: only the biggest wizarding shopping district in the UK! You could scarcely believe it.

You took a sip of your tea.

During the next forty-five minutes, you listened to George list all the things you could do on Thursday while at Diagon Alley. It made you so excited that, by the time Mr. Weasley came to tell George it was time for them to go, your face hurt from smiling so excessively.

You and Mum bid the Weasley's goodnight, and each of the three Weasley's bid you one more happy birthday before leaving.

"See you Thursday," George said as he was the last to step off your front porch, and you were taken aback when his smile disturbed the butterflies in your stomach. They had been dormant for so long, you had almost forgotten what it felt like.

"I look forward to it," you replied, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from grinning stupidly, and closed the door. You turned around to come face to face with Mum, who was all but jumping up and down with eagerness.

"So? Tell me what's happening!" she demanded.

"He's gonna come get me at 10:00 on Thursday, and we'll just go from there!" you responded, and your own giddiness surprised you. You then pointed an accusatory finger at Mum. "Don't think I didn't know exactly what you were doing with that tea nonsense!" you laugh.

She giggled, shrugging shamelessly. "I've got to play my part as your mother! You might have chickened out if I hadn't."

"Wha— 'chickened out'?" you repeated.

Mum nodded. "You were this close," she said, holding her fingers together in a pinch. "Ever since you graduated highschool and your father passed away, you've really made an effort to hide away in this house. I want you to get out and... grow!"

You opened your mouth to make a rebuttal, but Mum interrupted.

"And you want it, too," she added. "You just don't know it yet."

"I understand where you're coming from, but I don't imagine getting a tour of the magical world is an easy start to 'getting out'," you snorted. "Aren't you a little bit... you know... afraid?"

Mum took a moment to think over your question. "Well, if I'm being honest, no," she said. "The threat that You-Know-Who... Voldemort and his followers posed is gone. Sure, there are still bad people, but that's just how the world is no matter where you are. You can't afford to be scared of reality, my dear."

You sighed. "I know. You're right."

"I always am," Mum chuckled. "I'm not sure why you were angry at me. I helped get you a date with a cute boy." She winked and nudged you in the ribs.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks a million," you snickered, rolling your eyes. "For the record, I'm an adult now; I don't date cute boys. I date handsome, young men."

Mum laughed. "That's more like it!" She then kissed you on the forehead, following with a hug. "Goodnight, y/n. And happy birthday."

TAG LIST: @tomhockstetter7-111 @jasm-1ne @costheticbabe @luthien-elvenia-asher @megablonde22 @thecuteavocado @weasleylady92 @websfromallthespiders @rubyintheforest @weasleylover4eva @georgeweasleyslostearhq @im-coolrat @them-cute-boys @xmadigurlx @keirasinbin @huayan @deathtonumber7 @elmolovesw33d @coffeebeans11 @dumb4person