Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight and Mercredi
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A Note from Mercredi:
I want to apologize to all the readers for once again being the reason that the story is being held up. Per usual, RL is beating me into the ground. But paramount to all my troubles has been the recent, unexpected death of a close friend. I didn't write this chapter, but I did suggest the concept of The Mirror of All Souls and so I'd like to humbly dedicate this chapter to my departed friend. Cameron, if the Mirror was real and working, I know I'd be seeing you in it.
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Chapter 3: A Pub and a Pool
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=13093&chapter=3
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A Summer Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight and Mercredi
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Chapter Three:
A Pub and a Pool
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The Wizarding Home for Displaced and Orphaned Juvenile Squibs was located in a large five-story building. Made of red bricks, it was decorated near the top with a wide band of carved faces and symbols that were clearly magical in origin.
Draco was astounded by the sheer ignorance of Muggles who simply overlooked a clue like that, day after day. Granted, the area wasn't exactly bustling; the brick building was situated amid rows of the most decrepit structures he'd ever seen. Large decrepit structures. He was surprised they hadn't been torn down, actually. Though that was an awful lot of work if one had no magic, so perhaps the Muggles had never wanted to bother. Pathetic creatures, when it came right down to it. In fact . . .
Draco turned to Harry. "Do many er . . . deprived people, live in such awful conditions?" He waved to indicate the buildings all around.
Harry gave him a strange look. "Those are warehouses."
Were-houses? Draco flashed his brother a grin. "Good one, Harry. An orphanage is one thing, but I'm sure the public wouldn't put up with entire blocks devoted to providing homes for people who change with the full moon--"
He stopped when Harry snorted. "Not were, Draco. Wares. As in, merchandise?"
Oh, wares. Well, that was Mugglish in the extreme, wasn't it, a store needing so much space just for storage? Well, if you couldn't shrink or conjure things, or spell together some wizardspace, it would be a problem, he supposed. Though he had to wonder at the utter lack of commerce in the area. Shouldn't there be Muggles rushing to and fro, frantic like bees as they bustled in and out of their storage areas, fetching things to stock their shelves?
Instead, the entire area seemed utterly deserted. There was actually trash scattered along the pavement in places! Draco shuddered, remembering how awful life had been when Severus had taken away his wand. The mess that had developed! Draco couldn't help but shudder at how dreary life must be for any wizarding child condemned to languish in this place, especially after experiencing the vibrancy of the magical world.
He felt a squirmy sort of twist inside his chest that he recognized as his conscience. Poor little squibbies. They deserved better than this Mugglish existence. They should have access to all the magic they liked, in the form of house-elves who would see to their every need and desire.
But this?
Still, their own families had abandoned them, and the squib home itself looked sturdy and clean. Draco's brow wrinkled. Perhaps things had worked out for the best with Walpurgis' money, after all. It was supposed to be Draco's, but he'd still ended up with a fortune in the end. An even larger one, as it turned out. And it had made his brother happy to give him the money. Really happy. Harry was a little strange when it came to finances, Draco thought.
Besides, there might be a way to turn this situation to his advantage. If he could convince the Ministry, or more specifically, MLE, that he was interested in the care and welfare of poor abandoned squibs . . . it would make him a little more attractive as potential Auror material, wouldn't it?
Draco smiled widely, imagining how he could talk about his good works when he was interviewed. How he could rub Tonks' face in them. He'd bet his vault that she'd never bothered going to a squib home to see that the children were looked after properly!
They climbed the front steps and entered a small but well-appointed foyer. Draco's gaze took in the rich mahogany trim around the windows and the Tiffany lamp overhead. Of course he wasn't so crass as to think that material comforts could make up for a lack of real parents. Living with Severus meant a distinct lack of comfort at times, after all, but other things made up for that. Having a father he could trust, for one. Really trust. Severus wouldn't trade Draco's safety and future away the way Lucius had. Severus wouldn't demand he stay loyal to a cause that clearly, could only end in death or enslavement.
But while luxurious surroundings couldn't make up for a lack of parents, it didn't make it worse, either, did it?
Severus tapped a brass bell set on an otherwise abandoned desk. Instead of a clang or chime, the sound of a deep, resonant gong filled the room.
Harry started, but Severus seemed to take it in stride. As did Draco, of course. "I expect the bell detects magical energy so that those working here can know whether a caller is Muggle or magical," he explained, feeling a bit like a professor lecturing those who still had a lot to learn.
"Don't be a pretentious git," said Harry. "I figured that out, myself."
Draco looked down his nose at Harry. Or tried to, anyway. He was taller than his brother, but not by enough to really pull that off. As for pretentious . . . what a load of rubbish. Could he help it if he was well-born and it showed? "They really should have someone here," he said thoughtfully. "A reception area but no one posted near the door to greet guests?"
"Maybe they only answer the bell based on the kind of ring it gives."
Oh, that made sense. "Do you think it's wizards or Muggles who get ignored?"
"Draco," admonished Severus.
"What? Anyone who works here must already know that word. Though you wouldn't know that anyone works here, would you, from the way they've made us wait such a frightful long time--"
"Our receptionist is out buying supplies at the moment," said a woman as she came in through a side door. Her voice wasn't quite icy, but it was definitely frosty. "How can I help you?"
Draco had no end of questions for her. Just how many squibs do you have, here? How old are they? How old when they were abandoned? Do they all know about magic, or were some of them abandoned when they were young enough not to remember? Of course, that wasn't too likely, unless some knowledge of Walpurgis Black's squib-detection spell still existed. Otherwise, parents just had to wait and see.
He didn't ask any of that, though, because Severus had made a slight gesture with his hand. Let me be the one to speak.
"My sons are interested in observing your facility."
The woman's expression became flustered for a moment but her voice, with an accent that Draco couldn't quite place, remained cool. "What is the nature of the boys' interest? Are they--"
"We're not squibs!" Draco exclaimed, horrified at the implication. Did he look like a squib, for Merlin's sake? He wasn't anything as powerful as Harry, but still, wasn't his magical talent apparent to all and sundry, except for Muggles who were entirely too dim to notice things like that? Oh. Perhaps the woman was just a Muggle. One who knew things, and the Ministry let it go on because, after all, someone had to take care of the children tossed out by their own families.