As he sat staring out of his room window, he wondered what life would have been like, if he was accepted to a magical school. But the more he thought about it, the more he hated his life. He couldn’t understand why nobody wanted him, why nobody would accept him for who he was, and deep within him, sparks of anger was growing.
But as of now, he had to push away that thought, because in a few minutes, he would have to sit with his relatives who would ask about him, and why he wasn’t in school. He would have to pretend he didn’t like public school, and that he preferred to be home schooled, to save his parents the embarrassment. And though he thought his parents were being selfish, he knew that that excuse would save him the embarrassment as well.
Finally, the knock came from the door, and he knew it was time. The moment his aunts, uncles and cousins were all settled down in their cosy living room, with the fireplace mildly burning with scented wood, he knew that though the environment was perfect for good stories and laughs, it will soon turn to him.
“So, still being home schooled I assume?” his eldest aunt asked.
“Yes,” he replied, forcing a smile as he nodded
“Oh, it’s better for him. He can focus more,” his mother quickly added.
“Ah, yes, boys at his age are easily influenced. You’re fifteen now aren’t you?” His eldest aunt turned to him.
“Yes,” he replied, with the same plastic smile.
“Well then, you should show us what you could do,” one of his cousin suggested.
“Oh, we know what he can do, there’s no need to show,” his father answered before he could.
“No, he must show. A boy like you, with such talented parents, would definitely have great talent hidden under your sleeves. And since you’re home schooled, we expect greater things from you!” his eldest aunt said.
“I… I’m not sure,” he said, as he watched his parents exchange quick glances.
“Oh, look at the time, it’s late!” his mother quickly said, as his father waved his wand from his back at the nearby clock.
“Yes, you must get going,” his father added, standing up ready to usher them to the door.
“Oh? I think your clock is off uncle, we just got here,” his cousin said with a laugh.
“Oh, stop trying to be funny Artie,” his eldest aunt said to his father, and waved for him to sit back down.
Immediately, his mother gave him a nudge, and acting upon her actions he got up, ready to excuse himself, with a reason that he needed to get some homework done.
“Where are you going?” his cousin immediately asked.
“I have some homework to do,” he replied, trying to make himself believable.
“Oh, you’re home schooled boy, you can do it anytime,” his eldest aunt said.
And when his mother tugged at his sleeve, he sat back down. Confused at what his parents actually wanted, he sat through the excuses they came up with to put him in the clear and when they finally succeeded, they went on to talking about the ministry, quidditch, and everything magic related.
Through 2 hours of rambling, laughing and complaining, he somehow felt out of place. They seemed so happy, and in him, more seeds of anger began to plant itself. He didn’t know why, but he hated them for being so happy, their laughs became too loud to bear, and they complaints felt so petty that he felt as though they were being so ungrateful with the life they had.
Then, when they started talking about how they wished they could actually live a muggle life for one day, he could not believe what he was hearing. Were they kidding? Do they know what they would be missing out if they were muggles?
“Oh, wouldn’t it be nice to drive a muggle car, ON the road? And those special things they call telephone, it looks so fun to use!” his cousin said excitedly.
“It would be nice to experience it. No ministry talk, just tea with a game of tennis,” his eldest aunt added.
“What’s tennis? It sure does sound interesting” his mother asked.
At that very moment, he just couldn’t take it anymore. He knew what tennis was, because he learnt about it in school, muggle school. And when he told his parents about it, they couldn’t care less. Now, they were on the bandwagon about living a muggle life?
“Oh, it’s a game-“
“It’s a muggle game. A muggle game you probably would not play, mother,” he interrupted his eldest aunt, and sent the room quiet.
“Oh, don’t stop on my account. You all seem to want to live the muggle life, so go ahead! Go to muggle schools, learn about muggle art, and BE A MUGGLE! Then when you’re bored, you can go back to being magical, cause you can!” he continued, and everyone in the room merely stared at him, speechless.
“Argus, please,” his mother whispered.
“Don’t PLEASE me mother, you want to live a lie, go ahead, but I’m done living a lie.” Argus paused and turned to his eldest aunt. “Do you know why I don’t perform magic? It’s because I’m a squib! I CAN’T do magic. I DON’T have it! I’m a muggle, living in a magical world, and it is horrible. So stop being so ungrateful with what you have!’
Immediately after his outburst, Argus ran to his room, slammed his door as loud as he could and buried his face in his pillow, muffling his shouts of anger. But even when he was done, his anger never left, because he just couldn’t understand why those who were given special giftings would take it for-granted.
If only they knew how it was like being the only one not special. If only they could stand where he stood. If only they could see the difference, then he wouldn’t be so angry at all of them.