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Harry Potter Squib Tales Chapter 82: Roses have Thorns
🕑 Added 2025-07-10 16:02:01 +0000 UTCChapter 82: Roses have Thorns
‘Alright, everything is in place and in order,’ I thought to myself as I checked myself out in the mirror. Yes. Everything was ready. My tie was in place, and my rings were on my fingers. I was going to succeed tonight.
I left my apartment and got into my car, and drove towards my destination at five p.m. sharp.
At five forty-six p.m. on Saturday, April 2nd, 1994, I stepped out of my car having arrived at my destination, and handed the keys to the valet.
At five forty-eight p.m. I straightened my tie and rang the doorbell of the opulent Byronic Apartment Complex within Knightsbridge, one of the most affluent districts within London.
At five fifty-one p.m., the door to the complex opened, and I was allowed in by a plains cloth security guard, before being escorted to an elevator.
At five fifty-four p.m. I left the elevator, stepping out onto the top floor of the building, where the most exclusive and expensive penthouse suite was located. As I left, I was greeted by two more security guards, these in black suit and tie with sunglasses on. Very stereotypical. I approved.
At exactly six p.m., after being thoroughly patted down and vetted by the guards, I was finally allowed entry into the personal apartment of Sir Jonah Briar, the head of Gladstone Financial and my most important business partner and patron.
“Welcome, Mr. Rose,” the wizened voice of my nemesis said in greeting as I stepped through the doorway. “Right on time.”
“Punctuality is not to be praised. It is the least I can do, especially when meeting with a man such as yourself,” I replied, and he nodded at my ‘sage’ words.
“Yes. Too many in your generation are lazy. That you show some modicum of understanding that time is money puts you above the rest,” he said, delivering the backhanded compliment as if it were some wisdom I desperately needed.
“You’re right, of course,” I nodded back. “I do apologize, though. I know guests are expected to bring wine, but I wasn’t sure if your minders would allow a bottle through without it being checked first. Instead, all I can offer you are these.”
I took an envelope from my pocket, and handed it over. Not to Sir Briar, but to his henchman standing nearby. Said minion took it, opened it, and read the contents, before passing it over to the ancient man.
“I suppose this will do,” Sir Briar said, feigning indifference, but I knew he was giddy with glee based on the glint in his eyes.
And why wouldn’t he be? After all, I’d just handed him signed documents confirming he was now the majority owner of Cauldron Remedies’ shares, and owner of a full twenty percent of Avalon Industries.
I’d signed over everything he wanted from me, and in his mind, he’d won whatever shadow war we’d been fighting.
“Shall we adjourn to the dining room?” Sir Briar inquired as he handed the envelope over to his manservant.
“I would be delighted,” I replied, and was led into a finely appointed table with a long dinner table set out for two people. I took my seat, as there was only one chair, while Sir Briar was wheeled in to his spot.
“Do you have any wine preferences?” Sir Briar inquired.
“Perhaps some Champagne to celebrate?” I suggested, and he snapped his fingers, one of his servants making it so.
Drinks were soon served, along with a lobster bisque, and we made small talk. Then, the main course came after that, and it was time to discuss something I’d had on my mind for a while.
“So, how long have you known about magic, Sir Briar?” I wondered, causing him to raise an eyebrow and the servants to go still.
“Oh? What makes you think that?” he asked.
“I think it’s obvious,” I replied. “You seem to be aware that my medical creams aren’t natural. But you’ve never pushed to try and figure out the ‘secret recipe’ so to speak. Or rather, you did, and found they were completely ordinary materials. So, how could they work so well as they do?”
I tapped a finger on the table. “Now, most people wouldn’t immediately assume it is magical. After all, who would believe in something like that? But then again, when there’s no other answer, the impossible becomes more probable.”
“Then there’s the fact your rings are clearly enchanted,” I continued, pointing my fork at his hands. “Yet you yourself are neither a mage nor Squib. So you know of it, but are not part of the world.”
Sir Briar stared at me, then waved a hand to dismiss his servants. “You are sharp,” he said. “Yes. I am aware of magic. Have been ever since my son’s first birthday.”
I blinked at that. He had a son?
“My wife, Eunice, was what she called a ‘Squib,’” he continued, ignoring my reaction. “I only found out after little Peter began to display signs of magic. Small things. Cushions changing color. Milk bottles heating themselves.”
“I see,” I said slowly. “You were introduced to the magical world through your wife.”
“Yes. Eunice… she was wonderful. Always trying to find the bright side of things,” Sir Briar said. “And Peter… Peter was a ball of sunshine.”
“…What happened?” I asked.
“War happened,” he said. “Nazi fuckers. I was drafted. Royal Air Force. I was damned good, too! Shot down six of them in a single mission! But while I was gone… Eunice sent Peter to live with her parents.”
The old man slammed his fist against the table. “They’d wanted nothing to do with her, kicking her out at seventeen because of her lack of magic, but the moment Peter revealed to have magic of his own, all they cared about was him, and ‘continuing the family name.’”
He spat to the side. “To this day, I believe they tricked her. Forced her to hand over Peter to them for ‘safe-keeping’ while the Blitz was going on. They thought that their precious magic would keep them safe. It didn’t.”
I winced. Magical wards for protecting homes were all about misdirection. Muggle Repelling Wards, Unplottable Charms, and if there were any shields, they would cause solid objects to bounce off. Good for defending against a catapult, but not so great for a bomb.
“Yes. You know it. During the blitz, the Nazis were dropping bombs indiscriminately all over London. What good is magic to make people avoid coming near it if they are too high to even be affected by it? What use is a shield that protect against the bombs shell, but not the explosions?” Sir Briar asked darkly. “Nothing. Nothing at all. The blasts destroyed the house, and killed Peter and her parents. And the grief… it killed her. Slowly, painfully, over the months and years of the war and afterwards. We couldn’t have any other children, either. Peter’s birth had been difficult, and I took some lead poisoning from a Nazi too close to the lower parts. In the end… she died too young because of magic.”
I wanted to say it hadn’t been magic. It’d been assholes. But that wasn’t the right thing to say, so I just nodded.
“My father tried to kill me,” I admitted in the silence. It wasn’t something I liked to talk about. “He got drunk, and beat me. All because I was a Squib. So… I killed him.”
“I see,” Sir Briar said. “Did you enjoy it?”
“A little,” I admitted, revealing one of my darkest secrets. “I didn’t want to do it… but I wasn’t going to let him kill me for his stupid, worthless pride. And since then, I’ve been living in the Mundane world. Thrown out of the family, forced to live on my own. I took a few things with me. A recipe book, that contained the potions I’ve brewed. Experimented a bit, turned them into something anybody could use and make, and, well, here we are.”
“You made the right choice,” Sir Briar assured me. “Nobody would blame you.”
“Some might,” I muttered. “I have a younger brother, you know? He has magic. I don’t. He… well, mother tried her best, but we’ll never see eye to eye after the times he helped father do things to me. He doesn’t know what I did. Mother suspects. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve left the magical world behind. There’s more here in the mundane for me.”
Sir Briar nodded at my words. “Yes. I think, together, we can make your family regret… everything.”
“I would like that, sir,” I replied.
Dinner ended with a delightfully sticky toffee pudding, and then we adjourned to the old man’s office. He was a lot more open and friendly with me, now. After we’d spilled our guts, there was definitely a sense of… not quite closeness, but rather, understanding.
Oh, his sad backstory didn’t excuse what he’d done to me and to others. Kidnapping people to use as leverage was a few steps too far towards ‘evil’ to ever let me forgive or forget. But for tonight, I would tolerate him.
“Tell me, do you like whiskey?” he asked as he was brought over to his desk.
“For special occasions,” I replied as I sat down across from him in a plush arm chair.
“Well! Our new business partnership certainly sounds like that!” Sir Briar said with a dusty cackle. “Benjamin, please get us some glasses. And pour us some of the good stuff!”
The man who’d wheeled Sir Briar into the room – and was likely a Squib, like the other staff members who’d reacted to my revelation of magic existing with wariness rather than shock – nodded his head and busied himself with playing bartender for his employer. While that happened, I spared a quick look around his office.
There were dozens of old books on a nearby shelf, and I recognized some of them as tomes of magic. Fake ones, of course. The sort written by wannabe alchemists and crazy people like John Dee who thought they could do magic, but weren’t even Squibs.
‘Although, John Dee was a Squib,’ I thought to myself as I accepted the glass of whiskey from the servant before he was dismissed by Sir Briar. ‘And some of his books did contain secrets of alchemy and some minor enchanting. Though it would take another Squib to actually do anything with them.’
I made a mental note to search through some more ‘magical’ books and search for Squib authors. If Nicholas Flamel could still be remembered in the mundane population despite the Statute of Secrecy Obliviating the entire planet, then others could have also had magical knowledge slip through the cracks.
Aside from the books, the study was filled with antiques. There was a dinosaur fossil, likely from one of Mary Anning’s own digs, mounted on the wall, and his war medals were kept in a glass case next to a painting I think I saw in a museum in my last life. The desk Sir Briar sat behind was made of an old warship from the 1700s, the windows were drawn with velvet drapes taken from a Victorian era mansion, and there was a tall grandfather clock made by hand that was ticking away next to a cabinet full of expensive alcohol.
It was a display of wealth that was carefully made to be subtle, and only those in the know would appreciate. Quite simple, but effective. I said as much, which had Sir Briar nodding along at my words, pleased as punch that I could tell as well.
“You have a good eye,” he praised while taking small sips of his drink. “Most do not appreciate the care I put into making sure everything is precisely the way it is. Feng Shui, the Orientals call it.”
“I’ve heard of it,” I confirmed. “I actually did a bit of research on it when I was trying to find a way to use magic without a wand. It requires a bit too much preparation to be useful short term, but it does have uses when given time to build up the energy.”
“Oh? How so?” he inquired.
“Well, one of the problems of using Feng Shui for magical purposes is that you need access to Leylines or a Leyline Nexus,” I explained, taking a sip of my own whiskey. “Then, you need to spend days if not weeks attuning the location to the specific energies of the Leylines and the different magical catalysts. The process can take a while as you need to be very careful with how you arrange the various objects in your domain. And, of course, Feng Shui isn’t mobile. Once you put it down, it’s like that forever unless you spend even more time and money resetting everything.”
It had advantages, of course. Feng Shui could create powerful barriers and magical ward-like effects that rivaled the most advanced Western techniques, like the Fidelius, without needing to use Wardstone or runic anchors. It was even capable of boosting the vitality of the inhabitants or bestowing luck-based effects to the owner of the site which Western ward magic cannot do.
Yet the downsides were just as numerous. It was finicky and very particular, for one. Make even a single mistake and it would create a cascading effect leading to bad outcomes. And once the Feng Shui was set up, it was difficult to change it to a new effect. Not to mention, if the site was damaged, or something messed up the Feng Shui, like moving a chair or rock to the wrong spot, then you could end up with a cursed location that would actively try to kill anyone who entered it.
There was a reason even modern Asian mages only used it on a small scale and preferred to rely on more stable Western style wards these days.
“Fascinating,” he murmured. “I did some research myself, you know. Investigated Druids and Wiccans. Studied the old shamanistic rites. Hired Squibs and learned from them. Hardly anything worked for me. The most I got were tiny sparks and confirmation I would never be able to use magic myself as an ordinary person.”
Sir Briar then sighed, and emptied the contents of his tumbler. “What a waste. To think, all I needed to acquire magic of my own was to wait and it would fall into my lap.”
“Let me fix you another drink, Sir Briar,” I offered, the ice cubes clicking in my own glass. “A man should never be bone dry.”
“Yes, yes, very true!” Sir Briar chuckled, handing me his own empty tumbler.
I got up and headed over to the cabinet where all the bottles were kept. Opening it up, I made a show of browsing the options before selecting one of the nicer whiskeys in his collection.
As I grabbed the bottle and filled up his tumbler, I idly fiddled with one of my rings. It was an enchanted ring, with a small sapphire embedded in the top. However, the magic was inside the gem itself. Using a variation of the Expanded Space charm, I’d stored a vial’s worth of a special potion inside the gemstone. By squeezing the gem, I could squirt the potion out. The two of us were currently alone, but that could change at any moment. Now was the best time to strike and complete my plan.
Yet, I hesitated. Was I really about to do this? I looked down at the whiskey glass, and time seemed to slow down. Didn’t even need my Bullet Time ring, either.
I had always wanted to do things the right way. To be on the side of angels and help people without dirtying my hands too much. I couldn’t delude myself into believe I would keep my hands blood-free forever. Certainly not after what had happened with Delilah’s kidnappers several Christmas’ ago. Or the way I’d dealt with my father. But there was a line I’d always told myself I wouldn’t cross.
Yet here I was, about to poison a man’s drink. And yes, ‘poison’ was the only word to describe it. What else would you call it when you were drugging somebody with the intent to manipulate their body and mind?
But Jonah Briar had crossed a line as well. He hadn’t just gone after me, or Delilah. He had tried to kidnap Harry and Sam! Two of the people that I cared most about in this world!
In his greed to obtain the secrets behind my ‘medicine’ he had been willing to harm the people I loved, and I was not willing to let him do that, or get away with it. The law couldn’t punish him. He was too rich and had covered his tracks too well. But magic could help me do what the law could not.
So, here I was. A bottle of extra-concentrated Compulsion Potion hidden on my person, ready to be added to his whiskey. And with it, he would never be able to hurt me again. Not with his will twisted and bent to my own.
Drinking the Compulsion Potion would force Sir Briar to obey every order I gave him. At least for a short while. But I had plans for when it wore off. Still, I hesitated.
My plans were accelerating faster than I’d expected, or even wanted to happen, but here I was. About to cross the line I’d always claimed I would never allow myself cross. All because I was afraid.
‘Is this how it starts?’ I wondered as I squeezed the sapphire on my ring, allowing the contents of the vial I’d magically hidden inside of the gem to fall into Jonah Briar’s whiskey filled glass. ‘Is this how men like Dumbledore and Grindelwald began their descent into tyranny? By trying to rationalize their evil?’
I could try and delude myself into thinking this was the best option. The only option. But it would be a lie, and I’d already told so many lies in this life, that I was afraid of lying to myself. Because that would lead to a never-ending downward spiral.
In the end, I was doing this for myself. Because I was selfish, and petty, and above all else, afraid of being weak and alone again.
I brought Sir Briar his glass, and sat back down facing him with my own helping of amber colored spirits.
“You know, Mr. Rose, I hadn’t expected you to know what to do,” Sir Briar chuckled a he accepted his refilled glass. “The young people these days… they don’t understand how the world works.”
He waggled a finger at me. “You, though? You know how it is supposed to be.”
“I’m honored,” I replied. “Shall we make a toast, then?”
“Why not?” he shrugged.
“In that case… for the Greater Good,” I said solemnly, raising my glass as I offered the man a toast, and he nodded back, amused by my choice of words.
“Yes, indeed. The Greater Good,” he chuckled, before draining his drink.
The effect was almost instantaneous, and a few seconds after swallowing, his expression turned vacant.
“Sir Briar, please follow my commands from now on,” I requested, and he nodded slowly, glassy-eyed and oblivious to the world around him. The Compulsion Potion was strong, but wouldn’t last forever, and I needed to work fast while he was still in his susceptive state.
“For my first order! You will never again try to bring harm to myself, Edward Rose, Harry Potter and his family, Sam Parson and her family, Delilah Hunt and her family, any employee I’ve hired, or their families. Nod if you understand this order, and all future orders.”
He did so, blankly obeying as his head bobbed up and down.
“For my second order! You will think fondly of me from now on! You will consider me to be your grandson in all but blood,” I instructed him, and again his head bobbed.
There was a reason I was doing it like this. I wanted him to keep following my orders, even when the potion was no longer affecting him.
To make sure I could get away with this, I’d mixed a tiny bit of Forgetfulness Potion in with the Compulsion Potion, so when the latter’s effects eventually faded, he would forget what had happened while under its influence.
Furthermore, mixing potions was always risky, and this particular combination was extremely dangerous and highly illegal.
Compulsion Potions were like weak, bottled Imperius Curses, so brewing them was already an illegal act. The main weakness of them was that whoever drank one would be forced to obey any orders given to them. That meant anybody could give the drinker instructions, and they would obey them immediately, new instructions overriding older commands.
Additionally, the drinker of a Compulsion Potion was still partially aware of what they were doing. Hence the need for some Forgetfulness Potion to make it all seem like it never happened. Otherwise, when the effect ran out, the compelled drinker would remember and thus be able to stop whatever they were doing and take revenge.
But adding a Forgetfulness Potion to a Compulsion Potion resulted in a very unique situation, where the person who was being compelled would enter an extremely deep receptive state where they would unconsciously want to keep doing any orders given to them, even after the magic ran out and the potion’s influence ended.
The effect would be far, far weaker compared to the actual potion, and could be ignored, fought or shaken off, but it would always be there, lurking in the back of the mind. Because the human mind cannot truly forget anything. Not even with magic. Magic only made it harder to recall information. Locking it away, so to speak. But that knowledge is still there. It’s why people who are Oblivated till nothing is left still retain the same personality and muscle memories.
The amount I’d given Sir Jonah Briar was enough to put him into this hypnotic trance for only a couple of minutes. So I had to make every second and every order count. And ensure that in the future, he would never try to do anything to me or my own ever again.
“My next order! Tomorrow, you will make me your heir, rewriting your will to include me in it,” I instructed Sir Briar. “In your will, you will pass on to me the majority of your assets, including but not limited to your stock options, bonds, and any liquid assets, as well as name me your replacement on the various business boards you are part of.”
“You will also stop trying to look into or steal my secrets and recipes. You will ensure nobody else tries to do so either, and inform me when you learn of such attempts,” I continued, eyes darting to the grandfather clock as the minutes ticked down. Not much time left! I had to hurry!
“Last, but not least, you shall never mention what happened here in the past half-hour to anybody, not even me. If you understand and will comply with all of my instructions, then shake my hand!” I ordered, sticking my right hand out for him to shake.
Slowly, Jonah Briar reached out with his right hand. Was he fighting it? Or was it just his old aching joints acting up? I didn’t know, and didn’t care. As he shook my outstretched hand, I knew that I had done what I’d set out to do.
This old man was mine, forever more.
May God forgive me for what I have done.
