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Harry Potter Squib Tales Chapter 42
🕑 Added 2024-06-30 17:00:01 +0000 UTCChapter 42: Return to London
Our time in France, though amazing, sadly came to an end. The flight back to London wasn’t terrible, though Delilah had been shocked and horrified to see how limited business class seating was. We all had fun teasing her about it all the way up until we landed at Heathrow.
“I have a car coming to pick me up,” Delilah informed us as we grabbed our luggage upon returning to Heathrow. “Would you like a ride back to your homes?”
“Yes, please!” Sam requested, and I nodded as well.
“Harry’s staying with me until school starts back up, so we can drop Sam off first,” I informed Delilah, and she nodded slowly.
“Good. Good. I’m glad you got him out of that house,” she replied. We left the baggage claim area afterwards, and the rich girl perked up when she spotted somebody nearby.
“Ah, there’s my driver!” Delilah said happily, seeing an older looking man dressed as a chauffeur in a black suit and tie combo, complete with the flat cap, standing with a sign that had her name on it near the exit.
“Simon, my friends need a ride home,” she informed him, and the older man nodded.
“Yes, miss,” he replied. “This way.”
He led them outside, before stopping them at the curb in front of a vehicle. “Here we are.”
“Uh, Delilah, you said that a car was coming to pick you up,” Sam said slowly, eyes wide as he stared at the ‘car’ in front of us. Harry and I weren’t much different.
“Yes? That’s correct,” she replied.
“Delly, that is a limousine,” I informed her, leaning in towards her while Sam and Harry stared at it in disbelief as it pulled up.
She didn’t seem to understand what the issue was, so I just sighed, muttered, “Rich girl problems” under my breath, and decided to explain to her that a limo was not considered a ‘car’ by anyone who made less than a million pounds a year.
“It does my heart good to see the young miss with friends,” the chauffeur said as he loaded up the luggage into the trunk.
“Simon!” Delilah whined in embarrassment, acting childishly for the first time since I’d met her.
“So, that driver seemed to know you,” I said with a teasing grin.
“He’s technically my mother’s driver,” Delilah admitted, face red. “He’s been working for her since she was a teenager.”
“Seems like a nice guy,” I said. My eyes met his as I slipped into the limo, and he gave me a short of respect. I glanced down at the small bump on his hip. From previous experiences, I knew that meant he had a gun on him.
‘Seems he’s more than just a driver,’ I mused to myself. For the moment, though, I wasn’t worried. I would never hurt Delilah, and having somebody else around to protect her helped set my mind at ease.
“I’ve never ridden in a limo before,” Harry muttered in awe as he got inside.
“Yeah, it’s very nice,” Sam agreed, bouncing a bit on the seat. “Soft!”
As planned beforehand, Sam was dropped off at his house first.
“Man, sis is gonna freak when she finds out I got to ride in a limousine!” Sam said he got out, shouldering his bag. Simon got his suitcase out, and he waved at us. We all waved back.
“Well, here you are,” Delilah said a few minutes later as she pulled up to my apartment complex.
“My neighbors are gonna freak out,” I thought with a chuckle, noticing that a few windows in the apartment complex facing towards the street had faces pressed against them. “Actually, I wonder how the Dursleys would react if we showed up at Privet Drive in one of these babies?”
“From the sounds of things, they’d likely spontaneously combust out of pure spite and jealousy,” Delilah drawled.
“Yeah, they would,” Harry chuckled in agreement.
As we got out and grabbed our luggage, Harry hesitated, before looking back at my girlfriend with a pensive expression.
“Everything alright, Harry?” she asked, noticing his stare.
“Yes, everything is… actually… do you think we could talk? Inside?” Harry asked Delilah.
“Sure,” she said. Then, turning back to Simon, “I’m doing to grab some tea with Harry and Ed.”
“I shall wait, miss. But I must remind you that you have dinner with your parents at six, so I’m afraid you can only spare thirty minutes,” he said, glancing at a watch.
“Thank you, Simon,” she said, a faint grimace crossing her features before they were smoothed away by a careful mask.
We went into my apartment, where I noted that it was very clean. Inky had been keeping it nice and tidy while we were gone. I got out the kettle and started to boil water, and left Harry and Delilah on the couch.
“What did you want to talk about, Harry?” Delilah asked. “Do you need help with anything? Legal matters, perhaps?”
“Um, Delilah, I was wondering… you’re related to Lucius Malfoy, right?” Harry asked hesitantly. “I mean, there’s your hair, and you look like an older Draco…”
“That is what Ed and I believe, yes,” the young woman replied, nodding her head slowly. I took her hand, holding it tight and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
After a moment, she let out a deep breath. “Why do you ask?” she inquired.
“I have a friend, and I made a promise to him,” Harry began. “Do you think… could you free Dobby?”
“Harry, that…” I began, only to cut myself off as I thought it over. “No, wait, actually, that might work.”
“Who’s Dobby?” Delilah asked, raising an eyebrow.
“He’s a House Elf, like Inky, only he serves the Malfoy family,” I explained. “And he’s in an abusive relationship with them.”
“The rapist doesn’t treat his servants right. What a surprise,” she growled. “But why would I be able to do anything about it?”
“I heard that if you give a House Elf clothes, they become freed,” Harry said. “But only if they’re get it from a member of the family they serve. And, well, you’re technically a Malfoy…”
He trailed off, unable to fully articulate his plan.
“Would that even work?” Delilah asked. “I mean, I’m… not officially part of the family.”
“According to Wizarding Law, a magical child, even a Squib, that is part of a magical family stays part of said family unless they are properly disowned. Doesn’t matter if you’re ‘naturalborn,’ if the parent is magical they are responsible for any magical children they’ve made. Magicals are big on blood ties, after all. Squibs are technically magical in the eyes of wizarding law, despite a few attempts to change that, and if Lucius doesn’t know you exist, then he might not have filed the legal and magical paperwork to keep you from claiming to be part of the Malfoy lineage,” I replied. “Add in the fact the bond with Dobby and the Malfoys is hanging on by a thread, and I think we might be able to make it work.”
Delilah thought it over, and then shrugged. “Well, what do I have to lose? Let’s give it a try. How can I call him?”
“House Elves have an innate magic that lets them know when somebody in the family they serve has need of them. Just call his name and think about summoning him to your side,” I explained.
She nodded and took a deep breath, then called out firmly, “DOBBY!”
There was a loud “Pop!” and a surprised looking House Elf in a filthy tea-rag appeared in front of her, blinking up at Delilah in confusion.
“Youse has the blood of Master, but youse does not live in Master’s home?” he uttered in bewilderment, before he noticed where he was, and who else was in the apartment with him.
“Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby exclaimed.
“Hey, Dobby. This is Delilah. I think… I think she can help free you,” Harry said, explaining why he was here.
His already large and wide eyes widened even further at that, and tears began to gather within them.
“Harry Potter is truly kind! Harry Potter keeps his promise to lowly little Dobby!” he sobbed out.
Delilah stared at the House Elf, perturbed as she took in his ratty outfit and scar covered body. Many wounds were faded and barely visible, thanks to the insanely fast healing factor House Elves possessed, but that just meant that he’d received all these injuries in the last week or two.
“Dobby,” she said softly, and he spun around, looking up at her.
“Yes, mistress?” he asked hopefully.
“If I gave you clothes right now, would you be freed from your ‘employment’ with my family?” Delilah inquired.
For a tense few seconds, Dobby frowned and he went cross-eyed, as if trying to figure out if the plan would work.
“Yes! Yes!” Dobby exclaimed eagerly a minute later. “Mistress is Master Malfoy’s heir!”
“His heir?” Delilah asked, taken aback.
“Yes! Youse Master’s oldest child! Youse is allowed to dismiss servants in place of Master!” Dobby explained, bouncing from foot to foot.
I frowned at that. “But, she’s a Squib. Wouldn’t that exclude her from being the heir?”
“Wizardy law doesn’t say that,” Dobby hastily explained to me. “Wizardy folk follow Prim-o-geniture. Unless Master disowned Mistress for being a Squib, Mistress is heir, in magic and in law!”
“I see,” I said slowly. I’d always assumed that Squibs couldn’t inherit the position of head of the family or be named heir in Wizarding Britain, but thinking about it made sense that wouldn’t be the case. After all, a Squib could still have kids with a high chance of being magical, so surely some families wouldn’t have wanted to have them thrown from the family, if only for those hypothetical children.
‘It must be due to the whole ‘blood purity’ thing that popped up around World War Two that caused Squibs to be seen as lesser beings,’ I thought to myself.
That made me think about my own parents, and I clenched my fists at that thought of my father. Having a Squib in the family was disgraceful, and I’d shown absolutely no magical talent at all. I bet my rat of a father would have had the legal paperwork to disown me done up the day after my Hogwarts letter failed to arrive. But then he'd gotten drunk and decided that murder was preferable to dishonor and I'd offed him in retaliation. Which meant that technically, I was in fact still the head of House Hunch, assuming my mother hadn't submitted the paperwork to disown me herself. Did she even know? Did she care?
I shook my head to banish the dark thoughts and resisted the urge to sink my emotions behind my Occlumency shields. The old bastard was dead, and I didn’t want to be the head of House Hunch in the first place. Everything else was in the past and didn’t matter anymore.
And right now, this was not about me, but Delilah, Dobby, and House Malfoy. So, I watched as Delilah took off a shoe and carefully removed a sock, then handed it over to the wide-eyed House Eye.
When Dobby’s trembling fingers closed around the article of clothing, I half expected some sort of light show. Some sparks, maybe. But no, there was no obvious sign that the bond had been broken.
The only proof that it’d worked was the tears which had been dancing in Dobby’s eyes until now were finally shed, dripping down his long nose onto the floor.
“Dobby is free…” he whispered to himself in disbelief. Then, louder, and more confidently, “Dobby is free!”
“You’re free!” Harry cheered with him, bouncing up from the couch and running over to the House Elf before hugging him. Dobby hugged the young wizard back, only to freeze for a moment when he realized who it was. But a squeeze from Harry convinced Dobby to return the embrace.
“You okay, Delly?” I asked in a low voice to Delilah.
“I cannot imagine what that poor thing has endured and suffered up until now,” she replied in a quite mutter.
“Did you feel anything… weird?” I pressed, and she shook her head.
“No. There wasn’t anything like that,” she muttered. “Should there have been?”
“I dunno,” I admitted. “But I think this is the best outcome, regardless.”
“Yes. I think so, too,” she agreed. She then leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. I smiled at that, feeling good about what we had done today.
& & & & &
After returning from the vacation in France, I’d had to spend the next week scrambling to finish some last-minute details. The few pieces of paperwork left to do had been finalized while I’d been gone, and I had other things to take care of.
But it was all worth it, and in the end, I’d accomplished my goal. And now I was showing off my success to somebody very close to me.
“So, what do you think?” I asked, looking over to the side and trying to conceal my nervousness as stood in front of my store with my mother.
It was a two-story building that I’d bought near downtown London. It’d been expensive, but worth it. After all, it was about to become my first store. Already the upside-down Omega cauldron logo was hanging above the door, and the name was printed bold as brass on the side of the building. Inside, through the frosted glass display windows, posters and signs were hung, and the shelves were full of product. Eventually, my goods were going to be sold through my investors’ channels in supermarkets and pharmacies, not just here, once I had gotten the industrial potion manufacturing processes down, but for now, I was content with what I’d accomplished.
Cauldron Remedies was now open for business!
“Is this what you spent the money I gave you on?” she asked curiously, and there was a great deal of surprise, but also pride, in her voice as she looked it over.
“Yes,” I replied, smoothly lying. Technically I bet it all on a wild chance that my future knowledge was accurate and then cashed it in when I won big time, but she didn’t need to know that.
Instead, I gazed up at the place I’d bought, admiring it. The building itself had been a former bakery, so there was plenty of space to put the items necessary for brewing the potions, like the automatic mixers and stirrers as well as the vats and containers. And there was plenty of room to showcase items as well, though shelf space and the area for customers would be slightly limited. I already had plans to continue selling goods via mail-in fliers, like I’d done before, only more professionally.
This was just one of two places I had purchased, however. While this would be the ‘face’ of my operations and where I’d sell and make a few of the products, I had also bought a warehouse near the outskirts of the city to turn into a potions factory. There, I could have Inky and any other overtly magical stuff safely out of the public’s eye.
‘I still have to get Charlie to put up wards around both sites,’ I thought to myself. The eldest Weasley might be a Cursebreaker by trade, but you couldn’t exactly tear down wards without knowing about them first. And I didn’t mind paying a family friend, especially when they did excellent work.
Going back to the potions, however, I had sold several of my recipes to British Chemical Concerns, the group Delilah had managed to convince to invest in me, but I made sure to keep the knowledge on how to actually brew them to myself. Without my magical catalysts their attempts would produce worthless sludge.
I still had obligations to my investors, however, so that meant I needed to mass produce certain products. Namely, the one they believed would make the most money; the hair growth potion.
It ended up working out well for me. I would manufacture the potion-creams and then my investors would arrange for most of it to be marketed and sold through one of BCC’s pharmaceutical groups.
I had other things to sell, of course. One which I was still tinkering with. The menstrual cramp relief potion Perenelle Flamel had given me and Delilah was going to be big money too, alongside the Wiggenweld cream.
And I’d even gotten permission to make Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion which tamed even the unruliest of hair from Harry. The famous potion had been invented by a Potter, after all, and even to this day they owned the patent for it.
It was expensive to make, due to the fact it used actual dragon hair in it, but it worked wonders! Except for the Potters themselves, for some odd reason. Their hair hated being messed with, and I sometimes wondered if any wigs made of their hair would come to life.
That was something I didn’t have to worry about. Hopefully. What I did have to be concerned for was how I would be handling the business itself.
I wouldn’t be running everything in my growing enterprise all by myself. I still had to get a degree or two from Oxford, after all. But I would be making money hand over fist all the while as people would take care of most of the nitty-gritty for me.
Delegation was the key to success, after all. You’d never get anywhere if you had to do all the paperwork yourself. That was why secretaries, managers, and other staff members existed. To share the burden.
And so I’d hired a bunch of people. Almost all of them were Squibs, referenced to me by Archibald. And the handful of non-magical employees were all people who knew about magic. Including, to my surprise, Dean Thomas’s mother. She’d needed a job, seen I was hiring, and the rest was history.
But for the moment, that could wait. Right now I wanted to show off some more to my mother, so I led her inside.
“…and that’s where the hair growth stuff goes, and this is the spot for medicine for stomach aches. Other cures for gastrointestinal issues will go here as well,” I said, taking her on a very brief tour of the interior.
“Are you sure this is legal?” she wondered nervously, seeing some of my ‘creams’ already on the shelves.
“Of course! I’m not selling actual potions,” I assured her, feeling bad about lying again in the process. But it was for her own good. As long as she didn’t know the full extent, she couldn’t feel guilty and pressured into telling somebody, which might alert the Aurors.
“Really?” she asked hopefully, and I nodded.
“Yup! Ever heard of Homeopathic Medicine? It’s this Muggle thing where they use natural herbs and ingredients in place of actual medicine. Like willow bark tea for headaches and cramps and crystals to purge their negative energy.”
“Does that actually work?” my mother inquired suspiciously.
“It’s a whole thing! You can even get PhD’s, the Muggle equivalent of a Mastery, in the topic. And they wouldn’t do that if the subject was bogus, would they?” I replied, being evasive. Of course, I was lying again. Homeopathic stuff was bunk, but when had that stopped institutes of learning from selling degrees for worthless topics? Creative Writing was not exactly a worthwhile Bachelor’s Degree. Something my old college roommate back in my previous life no doubt immensely regretted.
Still, my falsehoods reassured her, and she smiled happily at me, proud of my work and what I was doing. I felt my chest constrict with guilt, but kept on smiling back. It hurt, but it was for her own good. Maybe if I said it some more, I would eventually believe it myself.
“So, now that you’ve seen my store, wanna grab some lunch? There’s a deli that’s nearby. Has good smoothies and very nice black forest ham paninis. My treat,” I offered, and my mother nodded.
“Thank you, Edward. That sounds lovely,” my mother said cheerfully.
“And thank you for using my new name. I know it’s taken some getting used to,” I said. She just nodded, and together we went to the deli, and found out they also made one heck of a good Reuben.
Once that nice little outing was over, I bid my mother farewell as I dropped her off at the Leaky Cauldron so she could take the floo back home. Dinner wouldn’t make itself, and she did need to check on my brother as well.
I didn’t know what Rudy was up to at the moment, as both mother and I had tried to avoid bringing him up at all. Though I hoped he wasn’t doing anything stupid. It might have been summer break from Hogwarts, but there was plenty of mischief he could get up to.
Still, it wasn’t my place to interfere.
Back home at my apartment, I was looking through a variety of files. Paperwork was truly annoying, but it had to be done. This current pile was all for college, though. Oxford operated on a Trimester system, and their first school term, Michaelmas, started in October and would go until December. Then there was the Hilary Semester from January until March, and lastly the Trinity Semester that went from late April to June.
I would be starting my first lessons in October, and I was quite excited about it. But there were still a bunch of things to sort through and file. Hence my busy schedule.
Sometime later, I leaned back and stretched, ready for a break and to start on dinner. Harry was at Hermione’s today, I believed, and would be eating out with the Grangers, so I only had to prepare food for myself and Inky tonight.
As I got up, I shot a longing look towards the bedroom where I stashed Flamel’s journal. The book had become my most prized possession, but I resisted the urge to crack it open and just lose myself in it.
As much as I want to, I lacked the time to really delve into Nicholas Flamel’s tome, and there was a huge amount of data I’d need to go over before I could even scratch the surface of the secrets within.
It galled me to admit it, but I was less than a novice when it came to Alchemy. I’d focused more on Potions, Runes, and even Divination, and neglected the other disciplines. And while Potions would definitely get my foot in the door for Alchemy, a solid grounding in Transfiguration, Charms, and even Arithmancy and Astronomy was necessary to really get the most out of Alchemy.
‘And even if I had the time, I lack a lot of resources necessary to even attempt any of the Flamel’s more advanced rituals,’ I thought to myself.
Alchemy itself was not a cheap subject to learn. A ritual that could turn a Muggle or Squib into somebody with magic? The temptation to try it out immediately was immense, but the quick glances I’d taken of it told me that it would be prohibitively expensive. Dragon’s blood was one of the main ingredients, and that stuff cost a hundred galleons a pint!
Still, the cost didn’t discourage me at all. In fact, it gave me a reason to keep going.
‘What would I do when Voldemort was defeated?’ That was a question that’d popped up in my mind a few times. Obviously, I’d keep running my businesses, but beyond that? I’d had nothing really planned. Maybe start a family? Live for a century or two before kicking the bucket?
But Nicholas Flamel had given me a task. A mission. A dream. A purpose! It would take years – decades! – to implement the Mundane-To-Magical ritual on a global scale, but it was possible.
The Statute of Secrecy would fall. It was inevitable. Already, the writing was on the wall for anyone to see it. Video cameras were becoming more common, and London would soon become infamous for the sheer number of security cameras it used. Before that happened, however, I would have to ensure that every human on the planet would become magical. It would cause chaos, but with everyone on a more or less equal footing, peaceful integration was possible.
I would of course have to direct things behind the scenes to make sure things went smoothly. But with my plans to amass an insane amount of wealth, I could solve a lot of problems by throwing money at them.
Still, there was a future me’s problem. And that guy could handle it when it came up. For now, though, it was getting late, and I needed some food. Tomorrow, I would be taking Harry over to the Burrow for a playdate with the Weasleys, and organize a shopping trip down to Diagon Alley for their school supplies.
It was going to be fun!
Comments
Alatoic
Ok, did not expect Delilah to be able to free Dobby, interesting. Still hope that Harry brake an arm just so the incompetence of Lockhart is in the open ,sure its painful, but will be ok by the morning, and what he see in the Hospital Wing and having Hermione 100% on his side is worth it. Also, I suspect that Delilah will need protection, if/when Lucius discover he have a bastard child he will want (beside remove her from the family) to punish her for the cost of a servant and the shame of being a squib. Also a small error, its Bill who can make wards, Charlie is into dragons.
Catherine Colin
Let’s go new chapter drop
