Gideon had to read the letter several times before he could fully comprehend it. He turned the discarded envelope over in his hands. On one side, the Hogwarts seal, which he had broken without a glance. On the other, his name, definitely his name, and below it his former address.

Was it real? Did Hogwarts want him? Or was it a joke of some sort? No, it couldn't be a joke. Sending a Squib a Hogwarts acceptance letter would be cruel if it weren't so obviously a mistake. A very silly, very annoying mistake. On the off chance it was genuine, he had missed the deadline to confirm his place anyway. The letter must have arrived at Maxwell Manor while he was in the hospital.

Gideon was suddenly angry. If the letter was real, how could his father have held on to it all this time? Hadn't he hurt Gideon enough? Gideon placed the letter down carefully and pulled on a fresh set of clothes, barely taking his eyes off it as he dressed for fear it might disappear.

'Oh, there you are, Gideon,' said his aunt as he entered the living room carrying the letter and envelope, 'tea's almost ready. What's the matter?'

'Did you know about this, Caroline?' he asked.

'Know about what? Oh, what's happened to your bandages?' she replied.

'Oh, never mind that. This letter—from Hogwarts—didn't you see the seal?' he pivoted.

'From Hogwarts?' she asked, leaving the stove, her curiosity piqued.

'Yes. I-it's an acceptance letter. F-for me,' said Gideon, begrudgingly passing it to his aunt as she whipped out her wand and magically dried his bandages.

'Oh, I didn't notice the seal. Well, this is wonderful news! Congratulations, Gideon!'

Gideon was flabbergasted. His aunt seemed to have accepted things so easily. 'B-But I'm a Squib! Isn't it...? Don't you think it's a mistake?' he pressed.

'Hogwarts don't tend to make mistakes, Gideon, especially not when it comes to who attends the school. There's a special system for it.'

'It doesn't matter anyway; I've missed the deadline.'

'Well, that's not your fault, it's that brother of mine who's to blame. I'll send one of the Prophet owls to explain when I get to work tomorrow. They'll understand,' she assured him while tightening his bandages with her wand. 'If everything's okay, we'll go to Diagon Alley after your check-up at St Mungo's on Saturday.'

Aunt Caroline's cool and casual manner confused Gideon. He was sure she would have said something to confirm his fears. Instead, she had alleviated them and left him hopeful. Given everything he was going through, hope could be a dangerous thing right now. If he allowed himself to believe the letter was real, only to have it taken away from him, he wasn't sure he would be able to handle it.

'Right, tea should be ready now,' said Caroline. Gideon folded his letter carefully, slid it back into its envelope and took a seat at the kitchen table. He watched in awe as his aunt used her wand to dish out crockery and cutlery, and serve the meal before a block of cheese grated itself over each of their plates.

'What's funny?' said Caroline as she sat down, noticing Gideon's grin.

'I'm just not used to seeing magic used so openly,' he answered. 'I think the family used to hold back for my benefit.'

'Well, no need for that anymore, eh?' Caroline commented.

Gideon couldn't accept that just yet. Instead, between mouthfuls of spaghetti, he wondered things like what would happen if he couldn't do any magic once he got to Hogwarts. Would they expel him? He might be able to fake his way through levitation lessons using his channelling rod, but he would get found out eventually.

'How is it?' Caroline asked.

'Oh, it's good! Thank you,' Gideon answered.

'I want you to know, Gideon,' she said, putting down her knife and fork, 'you have a home here for as long as you need it.'

'Thanks,' Gideon replied.

'I know first-hand how stubborn your dad can be but given time, he'll come around.'

'Hmm. I'm not so sure.'

'What makes you say that?'

'Well, I'm not really his son, am I?'

'Rubbish! Marcus isn't the warmest person in the world, but I know he loves you. Just look at our relationship. We've never gotten along that well. We never fell out; we just always end up bickering when we get together. He takes after your gran, you see, whereas I take after my dad.

'Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, we may not see each other all that much and may not appear to get along, but that doesn't mean there isn't still love there. Besides, your mum will be furious with him when she wakes up!'

'What if she doesn't wake up?' Gideon said fearfully.

'I don't believe that,' Caroline announced defiantly. 'I can't say I understand everything about this whole situation, but Sarah's a strong woman, she'll make it through this.'

Caroline's confidence was reassuring, and Gideon quickly found himself settling into his new environment. After dinner, they shared a big block of chocolate while watching Caroline's Muggle television. They weren't paying much attention to the shows. Caroline had been uncertain about the events that had preceded and followed the Dementor attack, and she had been quizzing Gideon about everything from the attack itself to Jonathan Grimsby's involvement.

It was a lot for Gideon to unload, but there was something cathartic about finally being able to talk it all through with someone. After he had recounted the whole story to Caroline and answered all her questions, they were shocked to find it was close to eleven PM. They said good night and Gideon returned to his new bedroom.

With the excitement and confusion of receiving his Hogwarts offer, Gideon had forgotten the third letter, which was still lying on his bed unopened. This one, too, had a wax seal on the envelope. He unfurled the letter within, and his jaw dropped in shock. It was another offer or acceptance. This one was almost identical to the one from Hogwarts, but for a school that Gideon hadn't heard of; Durmstrang Institute.

What was going on here? Now two magic schools wanted him? Could they really be genuine offers? After checking the time, Gideon decided it was too late to bother his aunt. He decided not to mention the second offer at all. His heart had always been set on Hogwarts, and if that was truly a possibility, then that was without question where he wanted to go. Even so, he spent his first night in his new bed, with both letters tucked safely underneath his pillow.

***

While Caroline was at work, Gideon had spent much of his Friday alone cleaning the flat and preparing a special thank-you dinner for his aunt. When she returned that evening, she had admonished him for this, telling him it was his home now and he didn't need to do anything to earn his keep.

She also brought news that Hogwarts had been made aware of his situation and was still holding a place for him. Gideon couldn't believe it. The letter had been real! After all this time, his dream of going to Hogwarts might just come true! With this revelation, the Durmstrang offer seemed unimportant.

There was still the issue of whether he would actually be able to do any magic, but while cleaning, Gideon considered that he might be able to offset that minor technicality with how good his non-practical grades were. That thought reminded him that he would need to inform Middling Academy at some point.

He decided that he wanted to talk with Mr Middling in person. So, on Friday evening he wrote a letter asking for an appointment with the headmaster, which his aunt said they would send by owl from the Diagon Alley Post Office the following day.

***

Saturday arrived and Gideon found himself coursing with both adrenaline and anxiety. Firstly, because he was looking forward to getting the messy, itchy bandages replaced. Secondly, because he wanted some news about his mother's condition. And finally, because today he would be shopping for his new school supplies, and it was going to be very different from his last visit.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Gideon and Caroline set out on foot from his aunt's London flat. They took two Muggle buses to get to St Mungo's visitors’ entrance, where they stepped through a dirty department store window and into the hospital reception, then headed straight for a lift up to the fourth floor. They checked in at the help desk and a few minutes later, Healer Watts appeared.

'How are you doing, Gideon?' the Healer asked him. 'Oh, dear, what have you done to your bandages?'

'Sorry, they got wet,' said Gideon guiltily.

'Well, come on then. Let's get them changed,' she said.

'I'll pop in to see your mum and meet you here in a bit,' said Caroline.

Gideon followed Healer Watts to his former ward bed. She made quick work of removing his bandages and changing his dressing.

'It's looking better,' she told him. 'We'll be able to give you something more comfortable to cover it with soon.'

'Healer Watts, have you heard anything about my mum?' Gideon asked with trepidation.

She didn't answer right away. It wasn't the first time Gideon had asked her, but now that there was something to tell, she didn't mind informing the boy in whispered tones, 'You didn't hear it from me, but actually, she has been doing better. I can't say when or whether she'll recover, but the immediate danger appears to be over.'

'Thank you,' Gideon said with some relief.

When they were done, Healer Watts escorted Gideon back to the desk, where Caroline was waiting, and bade them goodbye.

'You were quick,' noted Gideon.

'I didn't go in,' she said in frustration, 'Marcus has had me barred now, too!'

Gideon furrowed his eyebrows in rage. He was, however, thankful to Healer Watts for the update, and relayed it to Caroline as they left. Another two short bus rides brought them to Charring Cross Road, the location of the disguised entrance to the wizarding shopping district.

They entered the Leaky Cauldron pub, a grubby-looking building that went unnoticed by Muggle eyes, and walked through and out to the rear. Caroline tapped her wand three times against the back wall and the old bricks began to fold away one by one to form an archway, revealing the winding parade of shops that was Diagon Alley.

Gideon and his aunt stepped through the archway as a group of people headed their way to exit. They stopped just beyond the entrance as it closed behind them.

'Okay, what do we need?' asked Caroline.

Gideon consulted his letter. 'Well, I haven't grown much,' he said bitterly, 'so I don't need new robes, so long as my Middling patches can be removed. I just need one extra set and a hat. Then, a pair of dragonhide gloves and a cloak.'

'We can get those in Madam Malkin's.'

'I actually have all the books I need, but I don't have any potion equipment, a telescope or...' Gideon scanned his list for the item he was most excited about, 'A wand.'

'Right,' she said, 'I'll run to Gringotts while you're getting the first bunch. Then, we'll move on to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary for your supplies. Then, I'll get your telescope and post your letter, while you get your wand!'

It sounded good to Gideon, but suddenly it occurred to him, 'I don't have my Gringotts key!'

'Don't be silly, Gideon!' Caroline said with a giggle. 'Why do you think I'm going to the bank?'

'I can't let you pay for all that!' he argued.

'You're my responsibility now,' she told him. 'Call it a late birthday present.'

'Thank you,' he said bashfully.

Caroline's plan went smoothly. She returned from Gringotts just as Gideon's alterations were complete and paid for his garments. Then, they purchased what he needed from the apothecary before separating again. Gideon stepped up to the shop he had thought about so much over the years but had never entered, the wand shop, Ollivanders.

It looked as though it had recently been repainted. Gideon pushed the door open slowly and a bell tinkled in the distance. He stepped into a small space, empty except for a luxurious black leather sofa. The wandmakers wasn't how Gideon had imagined.

He had always heard it was a dusty and disorganised old shop. However, there was no dust to be seen. The dark wooden floor was polished, the granite countertop was gleaming, and the ornate golden lamps above sparkled in the light that streamed in through the frosted windows.

Beyond the counter were several rows of shelving which reached up to the high ceiling, stretched to the back of the shop and lined the walls. On the end of each shelf was what looked like a reference guide. They resembled those of the British Library except instead of books, the shelves appeared to be filled with identical small, long boxes sorted by colour. Each had a smart label on the end.

It looked like an incredibly organised operation. Gideon couldn't believe how many wands there were, all waiting inside their boxes for their destined owner to arrive. He wondered which of them might be for him, and how it would be found.

'Good morning,' called a man's voice from the far end of the middle row. He strolled towards the counter in a set of very posh-looking black and magenta robes. 'Holden Ollivander. How can I help you?'

'Hello,' Gideon greeted the man, whose grey hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail except for two pieces framing his weathered but handsome face. 'I'd like to buy a wand, please,' Gideon said as the man surveyed him with haunting, pale eyes.

'Well, you've come to the right place, young man,' Mr Ollivander assured him. 'If you'd oblige, we're testing a new method of pairing owners with wands?'

'Sure,' said Gideon.

'Wonderful! I've found it far more precise and expedient than simply taking measurements and trying the trial-and-error approach,' the wandmaker explained, 'Of course, that way still works well for my father, who is particularly gifted when it comes to such matters. I don't have his prodigious skill, but I like to think I've made my own contribution to our noble profession.

'Now, what we do is take a small blood sample, use a spell of my design to highlight its magical properties and then, we let the wands come to you, and see which fits best! After all, as we always say here, the wand chooses the wizard! So, your index finger, if you would?'

Gideon presented his right arm over the counter feeling a little uneasy and stretched out his finger. Mr Ollivander drew his wand and muttered, 'Diffindo minimus.'

Gideon felt a pinprick and a droplet of blood appeared on the end of his finger. The man pulled a thin strip of parchment out from under the counter and touched it to the small cut. It soaked up the blood like a litmus test. Mr Ollivander proceeded to wave his wand at the now-dyed piece of parchment until it began to glow as if it had been set alight.

It was fascinating to watch. Gideon sucked on his finger to heal the small wound as the man wandered off into the stacks. He held the flickering sample out ahead of him and waved it slowly in front of the many shelves.

'Hmm. Nothing yet? A difficult customer, eh?' said Mr Ollivander after some time, more to himself than to Gideon, 'Do take a seat young man, it looks like this might take a while.'

Gideon sat down on the sofa. Worry set in as a new possibility occurred to him. If wands chose the wizard, would any of them choose a Squib? Perhaps even Mr Ollivander's special method wouldn't produce results in this instance. Time went on and after ten minutes or so, Gideon got to his feet and shared what was on his mind.

'Mr Ollivander?' he called out to the man who was now near the back of the store, still waving the parchment in front of the abundance of wand boxes. 'I should tell you, there might be a problem.'

'Problem?' he responded without stopping.

'It's me, Sir. I'm err, not very magical.'

The man turned his head to Gideon while hunched over to reach the lower shelves, 'Hmm? No, that's not it.' he said, dismissing the boy and resuming his search. Gideon didn't know what to say, so he returned to his seat feeling a little foolish.

'Well, this is unusual. Very unusual indeed,' said the wandmaker with a wide grin. He appeared to be enjoying himself. After he appeared to have done a lap of the shop, Gideon heard the man mutter aloud, 'I wonder...'

Gideon watched as the man walked to the back of the shop and unlocked a cupboard. He opened both of its doors and revealed yet more wand boxes. Even with Gideon's one working eye, the glow of the parchment was enough to expose an unmistakable movement inside the cupboard. One of the boxes was shaking. Mr Ollivander pulled it from the cupboard and brought it to the front of the shop.

'How exciting!' the man commented, beaming with apparent glee. 'It was my father, Garrick Ollivander, who discovered that the three magical substances most suited for wand making are unicorn hairs, dragon heartstrings and phoenix tail feathers. However, we do still stock a small number of wands from before we started using them exclusively.

'Most are simply wands with lesser cores that we've held on to such as Kelpie hair, Kneazle whiskers and such, but there are a few with rather unique properties. One of those wands has taken a liking to you, young man.'

'One of the wands with lesser cores, you mean?' asked Gideon.

'No, my boy, one of our more unique specimens,' he replied looking positively giddy. 'My father once told me of an expedition he took in pursuit of wild phoenixes, to replenish our wand core stock. Rare though they are, he happened to come upon what he thought to be an albino variety.

'On closer inspection, however, it turned out to be something altogether different. An even rarer magical bird known as a Caladrius. The beast consented to give just one feather and it's here, inside this box, in the wand that responded to you!'

Gideon was stunned. He couldn't help but wonder if it was right for him to take such a special-sounding wand when someone else might make better use of it.

'Acacia, 13 inches, but seeing as it's not one of our recommended cores, I can't guarantee how it will work for you,' the wandmaker warned, opening the box, and presenting the wand inside, 'You're most welcome to it, though, Mr... Forgive me, I haven't asked your name?'

'It's Gideon. Maxwell,' he said sheepishly as he reached for the wand.

'Maxwell?' called a raspy unidentified voice. 'I think not.'

Gideon froze. A wheelchair-bound, wizened old man with wild, long white hair had appeared in the doorway at the back of the shop.

'Dad? What are you doing up?' said Holden Ollivander as the chair slowly and squeakily rolled itself to the counter unaided. 'No matter, look here, this boy has been accepted by one of the special wands!'

'I remember every wand I've ever sold, young man, and you might say I'm something of a genealogist,' said the senior Ollivander. He observed Gideon with a haunting set of eyes much like his son's, but paler and eerier still, 'We've already catered to all of the Maxwells. So, who are you, really?'

Gideon found it hard not to answer truthfully with the man's piercing eyes staring at him so intently. Besides, he could hardly explain the story of his non-adoption. It seemed far simpler just to answer honestly, 'I guess technically, it's Drake.'

Garrick Ollivander closed his eyes, and the pronounced wrinkles on his forehead tightened, 'I see,' said the old man gravely. 'Well, I'm sorry Mr Drake, but I'm afraid we cannot serve you today.'