Food for Thought

Gideon awoke with a dull headache. He tried to focus but it was pitch black. As his drowsiness wore off, the memories started to rush in, and he had to steel himself. He remembered enough to wonder if this latest attack had left him blind. Luckily, his eyes soon began to adjust, and he could start to make out the shapes of his bedroom.

Gideon swung his legs around and pulled himself up to the side of his bed while steadying his aching head. He jumped in surprise when a damp flannel peeled itself from his forehead and dropped to the floor. He felt too dizzy to fully acknowledge the caring gesture. He was also very thirsty.

As he rose to his feet, Gideon realised that somebody had drawn the curtains tightly. He preferred to leave them open at night to let the moonlight flow in through the window. He crossed the room and opened them to find it almost as dark outside. Just enough light shone in to let him read the time on his wall clock. It was after two in the morning.

Gideon retrieved his Glowglobe from his bottom drawer. It began to shine with a shake of his hand, and he headed downstairs to get a drink of water. He was mildly amused by the way the warmly glowing magical ball lit his way through the dark house, until it occurred to him that objects like this, items charmed by other wizards, were as close as he would get to having magic of his own.

A moment of sadness was replaced by a creeping anger before he physically jerked his shoulders as if to shake off the unwanted emotion. He entered the kitchen to find Tolly asleep in a chair with his head lying on the table. He had surely been trying to stay up in case Gideon needed him.

Gideon wanted to wake his friend but didn't. He told himself it was because he didn't want to disturb Tolly. Deep down, though, Gideon wasn't sure if he would be able to find the words to talk about what had happened yet. He was barely holding himself together as it was. For now, he needed to work through things alone.

He tapped his Glowglobe three times to deactivate it and placed it in the pocket of his dressing gown. As quietly as he could, Gideon took a headache remedy from the medicine cupboard and filled a large glass with water from the tap extra slowly. He carried it from the kitchen, through the lounge and out into the conservatory, where he sank into one of the big, wicker-framed sofas, swallowed the pill and drained most of the water.

He took a deep breath and released a long sigh as he felt the remedy get to work immediately. It was another marvel of the magical world Gideon was now unsure he belonged in. He lay down on his side and looked out into the garden; his eyes drawn to the stars above. As they twinkled in the night sky, he considered their importance in astronomy and astrology among other things. Somehow, they seemed further away than ever.

He continued to watch the sky. His body relaxed and the aching in his head had almost completely subsided. Bit by bit, he pictured releasing mental locks and opening the doors of his subconscious. Slowly and carefully, Gideon allowed himself to access the thoughts and feelings that had been scratching at the surface of his mind since waking up, and those that had been struggling to break free for much longer.

Tears streamed down his face as Gideon grieved for the life he had once pictured for himself; for all the incredible things he could have done and seen, for what he had imagined would be a chance to prove himself, for what he had hoped would be the key to finally feeling like one of the family, and so much more.

He also mourned the wasted years he had spent alone. He wondered if things would have been different if he had known what was coming, and if he could have tried harder and been more open to making friends with the Muggle children.

He was scared, too. There were as many questions to consider as there were disappointments. He had been raised in two worlds but belonged in neither. What would happen to him now? What would his life be like? What if people found out? Would he bring shame to the Maxwell name? Would the people that knew what he was treat him differently?

Gideon silently wept into a cushion as he wondered whether he could even bear to live in the wizarding world if it meant watching those around him casually using magic without a second thought. But would life as a Muggle be any better? A mundane existence spent pretending to be oblivious to a hidden world that was right under his nose? He wasn't sure which was worse.

He spent the whole night like this, curled up on the conservatory sofa, privately releasing his pain. Eventually, he was all cried out and tiredness took him over. Not long after, the sun began to rise on the other side of the house and Tolly arrived to cover him with a blanket.

***

A few hours later, Gideon could no longer ignore the light streaming in through the conservatory windows and its semi-transparent roof. He rose off the sofa to find himself feeling considerably better than he had done. He also found a newly filled glass of water on the adjacent coffee table and gulped it down immediately.

He absent-mindedly surveyed the garden as it dazzled in the morning sun. Tall trees and shrubs lined the edges of the verdant lawn and far into the distance. Just beyond the large patio were flower beds containing thriving plants and flowers of every colour imaginable. They were, of course, maintained by nymphs and other magical means, but the sight of them didn't embitter Gideon.

He didn't know what the future had in store for him, but he felt resolved to get up and face what lay ahead. Before spending any more time contemplating his loss, he would get some answers. First, though, he would get some breakfast.

Gideon wasn't exactly sure how many hours it had been since he'd last eaten, but the growling noises coming from his belly were a good indicator that he was long overdue for some of Tilly's cooking. He folded the blanket over the arm of the sofa, took a deep breath and prepared himself to brave the dining room.

Gideon slid open the double doors of the lounge-side entrance to the dining room. He was a little taken aback to find the family sitting at the dining table, his grandmother included. It was easily gone ten o'clock and the Maxwells usually did their own thing in the mornings. However, plates of toast, bacon, sausages and hash browns; dishes of scrambled egg, mushrooms, tomatoes and baked beans; and carafes of orange juice, water and milk, were all laid out in the middle of the table, untouched by all appearances.

Mrs Maxwell got up from her seat and gave her son a quick hug and peck on the cheek. 'Morning, sweetie,' she said lovingly. 'We saw that you were in the conservatory this morning but thought we'd let you rest. How are you feeling?'

'Better. I think,' Gideon replied bashfully as it occurred to him that the family might have been waiting for him. He knew he could be wrong, but he chose to feel touched by what he believed to be a rare show of support. He and his mother took their seats, and after Mr Maxwell helped himself to some sausages, the rest of the family eagerly tucked into the small feast.

The food was delicious. A full English breakfast was just what Gideon needed. He made short work of his plateful, then sandwiched a second helping of bacon and egg between two pieces of buttery toast. While they ate, Mr Maxwell recounted the day's newspaper stories as he did at any other mealtime, 'Apparently, "the Ministry's policies are becoming more divisive than ever among the magical community".'

Gideon knew that to be true because, while Anthony didn't much care about politics, the rest of the family were always at odds with each other over the Ministry's latest pronouncements. His grandmother was a hard-line traditionalist and his father usually agreed with her, despite his high-profile position as Head of the Auror Office.

Gideon's mother and sister, on the other hand, were big fans of the latest Minister for Magic, whom Jennifer contended, 'was building on the success of Shacklebolt, and had done more for the wizarding world in a couple of years than people like Fudge ever had.'

Nobody spoke about Gideon's situation and his spirits were lifted somewhat to see that the awkwardness and ill feeling had all but disappeared. Things were back to normal, for the most part.

'So,' Mrs Maxwell Senior said as the sounds of happy eating finally came to an end, 'are we going to discuss the issue at hand or not?'

'Annabeth,' Gideon's mother warned.

'I think I've held my tongue quite long enough, thank you, Sarah. You gathered us all here to talk about Gideon and now it seems nobody wants to speak.'

Gideon abandoned his illusion of the supportive family waiting for him. Apparently, this meal had an ulterior motive. He folded his arms and listened to his grandmother as she continued.

'It's wonderful that we can all talk about this now, but we really ought to be on the same page.'

'What does that mean?' Jennifer chimed in before her mother—who was beginning to look agitated—could respond.

'It means, that we need to get out stories straight, of course,' Annabeth clarified.

'Mother,' Mr Maxwell called.

'Get our stories straight? You make it sound like we're in the mob!' Anthony joked, reaching for his glass of orange juice with a smile.

Gideon's grandmother ignored the interruptions and carried on with her point, 'I only mean to say that we need a party line, something believable but easy to remember. We can't very well go around telling people that we have a Squib in the family.'

'Annabeth!'

'Mother!'

'Grandma!'

Anthony burst into laughter, spilling the juice he had attempted to swallow all down himself, while the rest of the family, Gideon included, stared daggers at the old woman.

'Now, don't you all look at me like that!' she protested. 'I'm sorry, Gideon, dear, but it had to be said. After all, no one in their right mind would expect such a thing from our family. The name "Maxwell" means something in the community.

'If your grandfather were still with us, he'd have known what to do. I remember when your Aunt Caroline brought home her O.W.L. exam results... Two Trolls, if you can believe that? Bernard told people she'd been hit by a bad Confundus Charm! Then, whenever we had guests that summer, he confunded her himself for good measure!'

'Annabeth, enough!' Mrs Maxwell admonished her mother-in-law. 'Gideon is going through quite enough without having to listen to you spout this nonsense.'

Gideon's grandmother huffed, then pursed her lips and fixed her eyes pointedly in the opposite direction. Mrs Maxwell turned to her son and spoke, 'The truth is, we did want to talk with you, honey. Firstly, we all want you to know that whatever you are or are not, whatever you can or cannot do, we're your family and nothing can change that!'

Gideon digested this and gave his grandmother one last reproachful glance before looking around at the rest of the table. His mother and his siblings gave him reassuring smiles and his father's stoic expression gave no indication that he disagreed with his wife's statement.

He nodded as if to signal that he understood and his mother continued, 'Now, I know everything has come as a bit of a shock and you haven't had much time to process the news, but we want you to know that there's nothing you can't talk to us about. So, how are you feeling?'

Gideon's first thought was that he was feeling incredibly uncomfortable. However, he appreciated what his mother was trying to say, and that mostof the family were being supportive.

'Well, obviously I'm not happy about being a... a Squib,' Gideon answered, barely able to utter what felt like a dirty word, 'and I'm angry. For one thing, because you were all keeping this from me. Why did you?'

'We're so sorry for that, sweetie. We only suspected you might not be magical. We didn't know for sure until your letter didn't arrive on the same day as Anthony's. Once we knew, we weren't sure how to tell you because... Well, we were afraid for your health,' she answered.

Gideon found that answer irksome, but they had been right, hadn't they? The news of his lack of magic had been enough to induce another of those strange seizures. He pondered briefly about how on each occasion, he had experienced a moment of extreme stress or emotion.

'This is all new for you, and for us too,' Mrs Maxwell went on while clutching her husband's hand. 'We might not handle everything perfectly, but we all want you to know that we will support you how ever we can. We'll take our cue from you on what you want to tell people and when.'

'That's right, Gideon,' said his sister.

'We've got your back, short stuff,' his brother added.

'That's what I was trying to say!' muttered his grandmother, clucking her tongue in annoyance.

***

After one of the Maxwells' more excruciating breakfasts had finally concluded, Mrs Maxwell handed her son, with some difficulty, a veritable mountain of materials that she had either been collecting or had brought home from work. Gideon's mother worked part-time as a Librarian in the hidden magical section of the British Library. Apparently, they had quite a selection of self-help books, guides, and pamphlets for their patrons.

Gideon spent the day sorting through all the information in his room, resigning himself to reading materials with such titles as So, You're a Squib?, The No-Maj Guide to No Magic, Squibs and Squabbles and, naturally, Magic for Dummies. He scanned some of the books, quickly deciding they were not very helpful and were not likely to have been written by people who actually understood what he was going through.

Some of them were even depressing. Though clearly an important topic that would be relevant to him, Gideon felt it was still a bit too soon to be reading about movements and marches for Squib rights, especially the ones that had turned violent. He made a mental note to return to such things at a later stage, but at this point, the wound was still fresh.

Every now and then, Tolly would drop off drinks, bring food or just hover whenever he thought Gideon could use a break or a chat. Gideon was glad of the company and the easy conversation.

'You know, Tolly,' he said, 'these books are full of positive messages, affirmations and stories of how the wizarding world has supposedly evolved, but I've yet to come across the name of a single famous or well-known Squib.'

'Perhaps Master Gideon can be the first!' Tolly suggested encouragingly with a wide smile.

Gideon couldn't help but laugh. 'Yeah, that would be something, wouldn't it?' he said dryly, 'Gideon Maxwell, the poster boy for mediocrity! Or how about, Gideon Maxwell, the first non-magical Minister for Magic? And you can be my assistant, Tolly. We'll get some dragons to run the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and we'll have Rasputin resurrected to take over from my dad! People will love that!'

'Hmm. I think I would prefer to continue serving here, Sir,' said the elf with no ear for sarcasm. 'Speaking of which, I should go and get dinner started.'

'Okay, Tolly,' said Gideon. 'Thanks a lot for the blanket and water this morning, by the way. Oh, and for the cold flannel from last night as well.'

'You're welcome, Master Gideon,' Tolly said as he opened the bedroom door, 'Although, I believe it was Master Maxwell who was seeing to the cloth on your forehead.'

Gideon was honestly a little surprised to hear that it had been his father who had caringly placed, and perhaps even changed, the cloth on Gideon's forehead after his last episode. He had assumed it had been Tolly, or perhaps his mother. Somehow it seemed out of character for Mr Maxwell, so much so that Gideon decided Tolly must have been mistaken.

As he continued to scour through the pile he had stacked on his desk, Gideon came across some brochures for non-magical schools. Given how the new school year was rapidly approaching, and how his parents had always been so adamantly against home-schooling, he concluded they were worth examining. There were a few for local Muggle schools and one for a posh-looking Muggle boarding school that was not so close by.

There were also two brochures for Squib schools. The first, a rather colourful brochure for Kwikspell Academy, made all sorts of grandiose claims about turning "problem-wizards into sorcery savants", and sending Squibs on to "the most reputable of wizarding schools", but which it didn't say. As much as Gideon wanted to believe its testimonials and other assertions, they just sounded too good to be true.

The second brochure was a lot more realistic. There were no bright colours, wacky fonts or outlandish statements. It simply outlined an unremarkable but respected London-based school where Squibs and those of "low magical prowess" could get a non-magical wizarding education. The syllabus focused on theory and giving successful graduates the tools needed to become productive members of society.

The striking difference between the two brochures made Gideon feel sure that the first was some kind of scam, or at least that it would not produce the results it professed to. After considering them all carefully, Gideon narrowed down his choices, if you could call them that. He sat back in his chair, stretching his arms and neck, looked up at the ceiling and let out a deep breath.

When his parents inevitably pressed him about secondary school, he supposed it would have to be between two options: Taunton Preparatory School, the Muggle boarding school, where he might have some semblance of the experience that he had always looked forwards to having at Hogwarts—albeit without the magic, or the simple but aptly named Squib school, Middling Academy.