“Where’s her letter?” Alyssa Figg asked in a hush hush manner.
“We didn’t receive any,” Adrian, her husband, answered worriedly.
“What do you mean? It should have arrived by now!”
“I’ve checked the mail a hundred times, we didn’t receive any.” Adrian took a quick glance at the stack of mail on his work table.
“I don’t believe this. Sure, she might be slower than the other kids, but she’s one of us, she has our blood!” Alyssa began pacing up and down the small home office as she squeezed her palms together.
Arabella, who was peeking through the key hole of the room door, watched as her parents began discussing on what to do with her.
“What are we going to do? There’s nothing wrong with our daughter Adrian! They are mistaken!” Alyssa was now close to tears.
“I’ll send the school an owl tomorrow, maybe they are mistaken.”
“The school IS mistaken! She is not a squib! My daughter is not a squib!” Alyssa said with new found faith in her voice.
Arabella, who decided she had done enough spying for the night, tip toed back to her room. She was suppose to be asleep an hour ago, but when she had heard of her cousin receiving his letter earlier that day, she couldn’t stop thinking why she had not gotten hers. Now she knew.
She was a squib. Or at least, that was what her mother feared she was.
Arabella Doreen Figg was an ordinary girl, perhaps too ordinary. Unlike her cousins, she could not make funny things happen. She could not make flowers bloom when she felt happy, nor could she crack teapot sets when she was angry. Her cousins seem to be doing pretty well in that area, while she tried and failed every time.
But just like her mother, Arabella refused to accept the fact that she was not like her parents and cousins. She had convinced herself that the owl carrying her Hogwarts acceptance letter had died or lost its way. And if so, she should at least write to the headmaster of Hogwarts, to ask him to send another.
With that new goal in mind, she grabbed for a parchment and began writing.
“Dear Professor Scamander,
I would like to inform you that I have not received my Hogwarts acceptance letter. I am pretty sure the owl you sent have lost its way, or worse, died along its treacherous journey to my house.
If you could so kindly send me another, I would truly appreciate it.
Yours sincerely, Arabelle Doreen Figg. “
Once she had read her written letter ten times, she folded it up and slipped it into the nicest envelope she could find in her desk drawer.
Careful not to alert her parents, she sneaked into their living room and attached the letter to their tawny owl, which sat by an open window.
“Hogwarts ok?” she said to the owl in a whisper.
The owl hooted lazily and took off into the night sky. As she watched its silhouette disappear among the stars, Arabella was sure she would get an apology letter by tomorrow.
With her mind finally at peace, she went to bed and fell straight to sleep the moment her head hit her pillow.
True enough, when morning came, she found her parents staring at a Hogwarts letter in her father’s hand.
“What’s that? Is that my letter?” Arabella made a dash to her father, grabbing the letter from him.
Her parents smiled widely at her, they too could not believe what they had just received.
“Can I open it?” Arabella’s eyes glistened with excitement.
“Go ahead!” her mother said as she continued making breakfast with a smile she couldn’t wipe off her face.
Arabella ran to her room, shut the door and slumped on her bed staring at the letter in her hand.
“It’s finally here!” she squealed.
Slowly and carefully, she tore the envelope open. Her heart was racing like the orient express as she unfolded the letter and began to read.
“Dear Ms. Figg,
It is my deepest regret to inform you that you have not been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
We are sorry to say that your lack of magical abilities has made it hard for us to accept your entry.
I hope you have a nice day.
Yours truly, Professor Newton Scamander.”
Arabella read the letter again, and again, and again, hoping she had read wrongly. But she had not. She felt like crying, but she somehow knew she saw it coming. What could she do if she lacked magical abilities?
As she entered the living room, in which her parents were happily waiting for the good news, she placed the letter on a side table and confidently said, “I didn’t want to go there anyway.”
Striding out of the room, with her head held high, Arabella tried to shut out the voices of her angry and upset parents. It was bad enough being confirmed as a squib that she didn’t need to hear her parents’ distraught at her non-magical self.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she convinced herself yet another time. And as long as she could stay convinced, she never looked back.
Then again, the truth was never as harsh on her as it was on her parents. After all, she was only 11, barely understanding the vast difference between a magical life and a non-magical one.
(On life and stuff requested a story on Ms. Figg, you can request yours too in the comments below!)