ғoυrтeen

"Can all wizards do that?"

The pink haired woman had dropped the boys at Diagon Alley and left without much word, but Callum's attention was still lingering over the fact that her hair colour was changing.

"No, not everyone," Harry answered. "She's a metamorphmagus."

He led the blonde down the cobblestoned pathway, past several shops, and Callum watched in wide eyed amazement the odd and eccentric objects put on the display at the windows, starting from broomsticks to cats and toads, and slimy things preserved inside jars, and even took mild interest in the people that were milling around the area, clad in brightly colored robes. At one point, he nearly got pushed away by the crowd, and Harry had to grab him by the elbow to steer him down the right path, chortling at his temporarily panicked state.

"Don't laugh," he admonished him with a scowl. "I was admiring the place."

They met up with a group of four – a short, plump woman with bright red hair who greeted them with a kind smile, leaving Callum to smile awkwardly in return, a lean and lanky boy, a short girl, both with equally bright red hair, and another girl with bushy brown hair, who looked curiously at him.

"This is Callum," Harry introduced him to them and then the other way round. The woman, Mrs Weasley, said, "It's wonderful to meet you, Callum. Harry told us a lot about you. Harry dear, we've bought everything you'd need, so let's head over to the twins then?"

On their way to the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Harry explained to him that Ron's older brothers had opened up a shop which sold joke items and was rather popular. And indeed it was, for nowhere else in Diagon Alley as Callum had witnessed was so brightly lit and so full of people. It was nice, he thought, having something to laugh at in the midst of the rise of a Dark wizard.

The banner at the front caught his attention, for it read:

Why are you worrying about You Know Who?
You should be worrying about
You-No-Poo.
The constipation sensation that's gripping the nation.

Callum stood on his toes and said in Harry's ear, "You Know Who? That's Voldemort, right?"

A collective intake of breath met his question and everyone looked at him with wide eyes. "Don't say that name," Ron Weasley said in a half whisper, tone fearful. Callum sunk back and muttered a sorry, but Harry patted him lightly on his hand.

"You'll get used to it."

The inside of the shop was – well – magical. Callum was awestruck, and remained standing in the same spot for several minutes just staring at the products. People shuffled around, picking up and looking at the boxes, children ran around, crying for their mother to buy them this and that. A dull heartache began in his chest as he thought that if things were alright, he would've come here with his parents, not with someone he'd met two years back, after having lied to his foster parents and telling them that he was over at a friend's house, and he would probably be running around too, mesmerised by the magnificent shop with its magnificent products.

But then, if he were a wizard, would these be as enrapturing to him as they were now?

"What's that?" he asked Harry, pointing at a couple of round furry things, splashed with different colours. He went over and read the label. Pygmy puffs.

"Would you like to buy something?" asked Harry. He shook his head.

"What use will they be of me? They're all magical stuff."

"I'm sure you can find something of your taste."

They walked around. While Harry picked up some things and gathered them in his hands, Callum only looked. When Harry's hands had become full, he turned to him.

"Since you're not going to choose anything, I'll pick something for you." He looked though the items in his hands. "Puking pastilles? They're useful to sneak out of the classroom. This gives you daydreams. You could have this. Or this –"

"Harry, stop," he interrupted, holding him by the arms. "I don't want to buy anything." And try as he might, he couldn't keep the sharp bitterness out of his voice. Harry pursed his lips, but didn't say anything about the matter.

They went over to the twins and after Harry had asked them the price, they said that everything was free for him, for he was the reason the shop was running now.

"You are the reason? How?" Callum asked curiously.

"I gave them my Triwizard winnings."

He left to get the items packed, and Callum walked over to a corner where he sat on a bench, the initial excitement having faded. He no longer felt like looking around the shop and admiring the magical objects that signified a world he wasn't a part of, where he didn't belong. A sudden, irrational bitterness had taken over him and he wanted to go home.

"Everything alright?" a voice asked, and he looked up to see the girl Harry had introduced as Hermione Granger. He forced a smile into his face and said, with as much as steady a voice he could manage, "Yes. I'm fine."

"Are you not liking the place?"

He shrugged. "I just feel like I don't belong here."

She sat down beside him. "You know, I'm a muggleborn and many people think I don't belong in this world. That doesn't mean that I don't."

"But you are a witch. I'm a muggle born to magical parents."

Hermione didn't say anything, but simply observed him for a moment. "I don't think squibs and muggles are exactly alike. Squibs do have magical blood, only it doesn't show. Filch, the caretaker at Hogwarts, is a squib, but he can stay at the castle despite the muggle repulsion charms put there. I may be wrong, but I do believe squibs are not exactly muggles, and they do belong in the wizarding world. It's unfair to keep them away and I think several jobs can be created for them that doesn't include cleaning a castle."

Callum remained silent. He wasn't sure what Hermione's intention was of telling him such things, but it wasn't making him feel any better. She believed squibs belonged among wizards, but what could a teenage girl's belief do when hardly anyone shared her beliefs? Her opinions wouldn't change the world, and it definitely wouldn't make wizards accept him readily.

He stood up abruptly. "Where's Harry?" he asked, not looking at her.

"I'll call him," she said, and left.

When Harry came a minute later with a bag slung over his shoulder, he said, "I don't want to stay here."

Harry frowned momentarily, parting his lips to ask something, but seemed to think better of it. He looked around, and said, "I'll see if Fred or George can take us."

In the end, they went home by using Floo powder, which involved a very nauseating trip via the fireplace and lots of green smoke. Callum coughed loudly as he stumbled into his house and Harry followed after him, though he didn't look the least bit bothered.

"You wizards are so weird," he sputtered as he brushed powdery green smoke out of his shirt. Harry however, wasn't concerned about the Floo, and instead he looked directly at Callum, and asked, "What happened?" He shook his head mutely and slumped over a sofa, Harry joining him. "Were you feeling ill?"

"No," he shook his head again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your day."

"You didn't ruin anything." Harry reached over and took his hands. "Weren't you enjoying it?" Callum was silent. "I thought it'd make you feel better. I'm sorry that it did the opposite."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, but I can't help it."

"Help what?"

"Being jealous," he answered, not meeting Harry's eyes. "I feel so jealous of you. I'm not proud to admit it, but I do. Every time I talk to you, write to you, read your letters, I'm constantly reminded that you and I live in completely opposite sides of the world, and that neither of us will belong in the other's. I wish I were simply a muggle, I wish I didn't know about my parents. Things would have been so much easier then."

Harry's thumb ran in circles over his palm. "Why can't you see that it doesn't matter to me that you are a squib? I like you as you are, and I would've liked you the same if you were a wizard."

"It's easy for you to say. You wouldn't understand how exciting the wizarding world seems to me, and how much I wish I were like you." He leaned in and rested his forehead over his shoulder, letting out a long, shaky breath. "I wish I didn't meet you, Harry. You are making things so much harder."

Harry's fingers stopped moving, and he pushed Callum away. "So, it's all my fault?" he demanded. "I'm the one to blame for you feeling insecure about your identity?"

Callum drew his legs closer to him and wrapped his arms around them. "I didn't blame you, Harry. I just find this so unfair. Why was I abandoned? Why couldn't my parents accept me? I understand that you don't mind me being a squib, but not everyone is like you."

Silence fell over them. Harry stared front, absently fidgeting with his fingers, while Callum's eyes remained closed and his chin was rested atop his knees. Finally, he opened his mouth. "Go back to your friends, Harry. I'm sorry for being such a child."

But Harry remained seated. "Well, if you are a child, then I need to stay and take care of you to make sure you feel better."

Overcome by sudden daring, Callum bent over and kissed Harry on the mouth. He looked startled for a moment, but then kissed him back. Callum's inexperienced lips were clumsy, but he had never felt more confident in his life. He felt a flurry of colours erupt around him as he melted into the kiss.

"Feeling better now?" Harry asked after they pulled away, to which he smiled, stroking his soft, raven hair gently.

"Much."