MollyWobbles

Batteries (xiii)

Twelve is a difficult age.

A/N:
Playlist:

1. "G Minor Bach" by Jacob's Piano
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Part II: "Batteries" (xiii)

Gideon

November 27, 1965 4:00 p.m.

"Idris Oakby once said that our Wizarding society is formed in such a way that keeps squibs on the down and out," Bilius said. He stood on a table in the center of Gideon and Fabian's shop—which was coming along quite nicely.

They'd cleaned the whole thing out, and they had plans to get proper couches and more stock and a till, even. It'd be a real money-spinner, this place, and the income would supplement Mum's potions regimen. For now, it was a makeshift spot for select clubs—Quidditch. Their cousin's new society. Music lessons.

A makeshift sign hung on the wall behind them, reading "Squib Defense League."

It was Bilius's brainchild, but Gideon thought it was a right good aim, and he wished he thought to make it first. William was brilliant, and he didn't care for the way the other boy got shoved into the corner all the bloody time.

Bilius was half-mad most days, but that seemed to draw attention rather than scorn, and just now, his little cousin was ratcheting the act up, pounding his fist to his hand, working the group of students packed into the old building on High Street.

In the corner, Gideon helped Primrose stash the buttons and donations into a box. Not a bad turnout. There were a handful of Sickles and some Knuts. Holding the meeting on a Hogsmeade day had been a brilliant turn—Fabian's doing, of course.

Bilius wanted to use the funds to file a Wizengamot appeal. Gideon thought they might do better to gather more public support, first, or the appeal would just rot there.

Warming a crowd up was important.

But Gideon wasn't as close to the issue as Bilius.

Who was he to ask Bilius to wait, after all?

Bilius paced, hands behind his back. "And I have to say she's right." He circled towards the group and his eyes flashed. "Where are squibs educated?"

Silence.

The crowd blinked back. Benjy'd come along, as had Diggle, but Sturgis was busy with a detention for mouthing off to Professor Scrimgeour. There were a handful of Molly's friends—her roommates and Weasley's, and a number of Bilius's. Bilius had snuck out as he had the trip before, through a passage connecting the One-eyed witch and Honeydukes. This time, he'd brought a host of first and second years along with. Most of them looked thrilled or terrified to be doing something behind the faculty's backs.

That Ravenclaw firstie—Filius—the boy the Carrows were always calling part-elf. He'd had come along, too.

Phillip Malfoy twisted in his seat on the end of Weasley's row, fidgeting with the rows of buttons and patches on his cloak. Reggie was on his other side, arm draped over the back of Smith's chair.

Gideon stole a glance at Fabian.

Fabian was pointedly not looking at Smith.

Brilliant. Wonderful.

Fabe could play at being stoic, but Sturgis said that if Fabian woke him up by crying one more time, he'd smother him in his sleep.

Usually, Olive came early with the usual group (Bilius, a second-year named Tonks, and Molly's friends) to help set up. Sometimes she brough tea, even.