Reborn As A Squib In Harry potter

"Does Mr. Mason get some sort of sick, twisted pleasure out of giving us all these quizzes?" I wondered to Sam as we both slumped in our seats at our usual lunch table, another session of English class (or Literature as it was known here) gone by. Two months in, and we'd already had six different quizzes!

It was enough to make a grown man weep. Which I had been, before reincarnation. As such, as a middle schooler, I felt the work the teacher was heaping onto us was ridiculous, and Sam agreed, his head bobbing up and down as he ate his tuna fish sandwich.

"It's pretty bad," he muttered, mouth full of fish and bread. "Mr. Mason's got a bit of a nightmare rep around Woolingsby. At least we don't have him again next year."

"That's a relief," I declared with a sigh. I then sat up, eager to change the subject. "So, have you read the latest Dragons of Pern book?"

Before Sam could respond, an aluminum can bounced off the back of his head, and he flinched. I turned my gaze to the side, and glared at the offender. Unperturbed, a student a year older than me stared back with a smirk, daring me to do something about it.

"You sure you don't want me to do anything?" I asked Sam, and he nodded meekly.

"He only shares Tuesday and Thursday lunches with us, I can deal with it if it's just twice a week," Sam replied.

"Having to put up with it even once a week is too much, in my opinion," I griped.

"Look, don't make a big deal out of it," Sam pleaded, and I grunted but gave him a nod.

"Fine. I don't get why Miller is such a butthead to you," I said, carefully keeping my language squeaky clean. Couldn't go firing off F-bombs around brits, after all. Or swear words in general.

Though my confusion about why the 9th year student Donny Miller kept bothering Sam continued to bug me. One day he'd tell me what the backstory to this was. One day.

But, for now, I'd stick with Sam and keep being his friend. Not like the childish bullying antics Miller liked to use could convince me to stop.

"Oh, by the way, did you still want to come over to my house this weekend to watch the game?" Sam asked, voice becoming eager. By 'game,' he meant the football game being televised on Sunday. And by football, he meant the proper version, not the American one.

"Of course I'm coming over!" I assured him. I might not enjoy the sport as much as Sam did, but that was okay. I liked hanging out with him, even if it was just in the background of something else.

Plus, Sam had a pretty big TV, at least for this era, so when I'd gone over before, we got to watch cartoons and other stuff on it, which was neat. As for his family, the Parsons, they were big football fans. They also always invited me over for dinner whenever I was over, and I wouldn't say no to a free meal. As far as families went, Sam's was great. His parents were neat, and his sister was nice, if shy. They were always nice to me whenever I came over, apparently really happy I'd befriended Sam.

Not to mention I didn't have any plans for potion making over the weekend. My experimentation with brewing potions was going smoothly, but slowly. I could only do so much with the ingredients and equipment I could afford, and experiments could be costly.

I'd also hit something of a wall. I'd proven to myself that I could brew potions as a Squib, at least by following a recipe and using magical catalysts. If I wanted to mass produce potions, however, I'd need to make tests using cheaper ingredients. Or at least, ones I could procure from the Muggle side of the world in bulk. As such, until I could figure out a way to do my experiments with cheap, non-magical stuff, I'd decided to take a step back and focus instead on something else; runes.

'I understand why it was only available to 3rd Years at Hogwarts,' I thought to myself as I went to my next class. I went over some of my notes on the topic (hidden in my math book) to refresh myself.

Runes were, at their basis, symbols that had a certain meaning assigned to them, like pictographs. Hieroglyphs are one such example, although the Norse runic system known as Elder Furthank are just as well-known. Anyways, regardless of the culture, words and symbols have always had power, and this carried over into the runes themselves. I didn't know if runes had innate magical properties naturally, or if it was due to some kind of 'faith' system where runes worked simply because people believed they worked, but for the moment that query was purely academic.

'I'm going about this all wrong,' I thought to myself as I read over some older notes in English class. 'Runecraft will probably be the easiest form of magic I'll be able to use, since I can use modern tools to carve them with a precision other Runecrafters cannot obtain by hand, but before I can do any of that, I need to figure out how to set up the proper runic sequences.'

Intent seemed to matter when carving them, but not by much since I'd already confirmed I could have someone else make the runes for me and still have them activate properly when magic was applied.

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