Challenge: Society for the Support of Squibs
Word Count: 100
“He's not a Squib!” Eileen's eyes narrowed in a way that her gobstones opponents had learned to fear. “He's been tested – vicar at St. Simon Magus said he had to shove him into the font, he kept levitating. That's not a Squib!”
Her father yanked the door open all the way and stared at mother and child. “Maybe there's magic now but it won't last. It never does.”
“That's nonsense! Your own great-grandmother was Muggleborn!“
“And my gran belonged to the Society because her brother was a Squib. Throw in Muggle blood and it's bloody inevitable!”