Chapter Text
It had become increasingly obvious that something was wrong. With a sigh he swept away the remains of his broken quill and tided the eclectic pile of books he had borrowed from his father’s library. As per usual his night time endeavours had been unsuccessful, he had failed to perform the most basic of fixing spells and, though not through lack of effort, had not managed to produce a single spark of magic. Not in the mood for his usual reading he blew out his candle, climbed into bed and clung to his inherited wand like a lifeline. The wand had been his grandfathers and it was his most treasured possession. (1.) It brought him little comfort that night lying still and lifeless in his hand.
The next day saw the last morning of summer dawn bright and cheerful bathing the worn looking family in a warm golden light as they took their tea and toast in the breakfast-room. The family ate in silence, Mrs Segundus’ usual chatter was conspicuously absent her red rimmed eyes kept studying her son’s face before quickly looking away again. She had been, until that day, blind and deaf on the subject of her only son’s affliction, however with the end of summer and no Hogwarts owl forthcoming it was impossible to keep up her pretence.
“Well then, I suppose there is nothing for it” said Mr Segundus, he rose and quitted the room without so much as a glance at the forlorn boy sitting across from him. From that day it all changed for John, there were to be no more evenings sitting by the hearth listening to his father’s tales of distant castles and wonderful spells. As many of you may remember, in those days the advice given to the unfortunate parents of squib children was to effectively purge their lives of magic. It was according to popular opinion, from learned Prophet articles and esteemed ministry advisers, kindest to all if the child was sent to a muggle school where it could best be introduced with peoples of its own inclination. (2.)
John had little choice, it was he supposed, better to go away than to live a life of burden and dependency but being so young and so in love with books of dragons and stories of great wizarding adventures his preparations for muggle school felt like a death blow. It seemed to him that to live a life without magic was not to live at all.
Every year he had watched the local wizarding children leave for Hogwarts and every year he had desperately begged his mother to allow him to accompany them. Mrs Segundus had laughed at her son’s eagerness, she had ruffled his hair and said with much affection “your time will come.” His time had come and gone and he could do nothing but watch.
One evening at the start of September saw his father pull him aside for some parting instruction “John, I know how you still love to carry your grandfather’s wand and to read the great histories but it is not for you anymore. It would be better if you were to leave it all behind and stop your attempts at spells. Promise that you will try, it will do you no good to carry on in such a manner.” John took some time in his reply “I can make no such promise” he said. “For magic is my life and although you are quite right to say that I will never be a practical wizard, what shall I do when it is taken from me?"
The day of his departure arrived and his parents accompanied him by coach to his new boarding in Steventon. His father was distant but gave him a hearty clap on the back in farewell. His mother wept and clutched him to her reluctant to let him go.