A young magician walked purposefully through the deserted streets of a small village, seeing only his destination ahead. Ethan Hartley was quite a striking figure. Despite being more than sixty, he looked not a day over his twentieth year. With his long arms and muscular build he was not a man to be messed with. He finally came to a stop before an old, seemingly abandoned, house. The door was splintered and stained, the walls crawling with vines. There were no windows in sight. He tried to open it, but it was locked. He cursed under his breath, wishing for the hundredth time for his wand back. Placing his shoulder against the door, he pushed. The door creaked, but held. "I don't have time for this!" He took a step back, then with all his weight, slammed into the door. It broke with a loud Crack and smashed to the floor, the loud noise echoing through the empty house. He stepped over the broken door, shocked to find the naked walls staring back at him. He should have been there by now. He had told his brother to wait here. He scanned the room again, a small object on the floor catching his attention. It was an envelope, a wand and a note carefully placed inside.

"Dearest brother, I fear I may no longer continue to run from them. Even as I write this, I can feel them getting closer. Though our journey was rough, I have enjoyed our time together. Running, as the lust for life burned through our veins. My last gift to you is my wand. I can still remember the look on your face, adding the last drops of dragon's blood, whispering the last spell as your wand burst into flames, creating the greatest, and most forbidden, potion of all: The Elixir of Immortality. Live, my brother, so you may see the dawn of a day when living is not a crime. Good Luck."

He read the last line, falling to his knees, as tears streamed freely from his eyes. It couldn't be. His brother, his only friend on this horrible journey, was gone. Was there really any point to immortality, to living, if he was all alone? The Keepers had found his brother, and they do not take kindly to their ancient magic being stolen. But Ethan would live, he would go on, if only for his brother.

Ethan was never the same after that. He still ran from The Keepers, but he didn't try as hard. He didn't take as much care in hiding his identity as he had before, because he really didn't care. He went on, his brother's words driving him forward, to run, to live. But inside, he was hollow. He was finally caught on July 14, 1968 not even trying to fight as they took him away. As a final torture, The Keepers told him of the fate of his brother. They did not kill him, though they could have. They had decided to punish him for taking their magic, just as they would punish Ethan. He had been buried alive, to suffer for all eternity. With a horrifying scream, he realized his mistake, but he was powerless, his wand taken from him. As they nailed shut his coffin, and poured dirt upon his grave, he cursed them, and all those who would pass him by, never giving him a second glance.

He'd first spotted her that spring, struggling with a large bag of potting soil in her front garden. He offered assistance, levitating the heavy bag with a flick of his wand. She invited him in for tea to thank him and they ended up talking for more than two hours. He offered her his card, should she need help with her garden again, as her husband worked quite a distance away and she took it gratefully before bidding him farewell. He hadn't realized how much he hoped she'd call on him until she did, and each time his shoes clicked along the lane towards her cottage, his enthusiasm to be in her presence grew. After a while the small chores no longer served as an excuse to call on him. Greeting shakes of the hand began to linger until they progressed to embraces and then more. She was enamored by his magical abilities, found the grey hair at his temples dignified and attractive, enjoyed his stories of his past and his travels. She hadn't realized her husband's work would keep him from home so long, and when he'd told her he came form a magical family, she'd pictured a life much more grand than the one she was living in the small house in a quiet town.

He didn't know when he knocked on her door that chilly November evening that her husband had rung her to tell her he had been reassigned and was on his way home. He lay next to her in the candle light after their tryst, and listened to her apologize through her tears, telling him she could never see him again. He dressed silently, already planning his flight the next morning, knowing there was no spell to mend a broken heart.

She watched him from the door, tears spilling down her cheeks as he passed by the prim white mailbox that read her husband's name: Trelawney. The wizard Ethan Hartley took off for parts unknown that very night, never to return to Ottery St. Catchpole, and passed away seven years later, having never met his daughter, Sybil.

Ethan Hartley was an energetic, happy kid. He was born to magical parents, and had three sisters and two brothers, all of whom were magical. He was the second youngest, with only his youngest sister coming after him.

He lived with his family in a lovely cottage home just a ten minutes walk outside of Hogsmeade, in a clearing in the trees of the forest there. Since he had four siblings ahead of him in life, he heard many stories from Hogwarts before he was even old enough to understand that he would be going too (his two eldest siblings were a good eight and ten years older, so he grew up hearing about the school).

However, by the time he was seven or eight, his parents noticed that he had so far not really presented any signs of magic. They thought perhaps that he was a late bloomer, but by his tenth birthday, he had still not made anything happen, intentionally or not. Very concerned now and knowing there was a very good chance that he would not get a Hogwarts letter, his parents spoke to him about the fact that, even in all-wizarding families, there were sometimes people who were born that didn't have any magical powers, the exact opposite of what happened with muggleborn witches and wizards.

Ethan was not happy to hear this, and tried as hard as he could over the next few months, trying to force some magic out of himself, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't manage it. He tried the opposite tactic; he allowed himself to try to forget about it, hoping magic would just spring out of him when he wasn't expecting it. By the time there was a month left before his eleventh birthday, he was desperate. He stole one of his siblings' wands when they were home for a Hogsmeade visit and attempted to shoot sparks from it, but still, nothing.

Defeated, Ethan resigned himself to disappointment. He became depressed for a while, suffering a particularly dark and deeply depressed point when he did not, in fact, receive a Hogwarts letter. His parents took him up to the school to visit the Headmaster, who kindly tried to reassure Ethan that although he could not attend Hogwarts, he was welcome to remain in the wizarding community, and that there had been lots of squibs in history who had contributed plenty to the community. Ethan doubted this, and cried silently the whole way home, refusing to look at his parents as they tried to comfort him.

After a couple of years of his parents homeschooling him and his siblings' constant support, Ethan slowly recovered from his disappointment. He was still sad that he was not a wizard; he didn't like being so different from everyone around him. But most people were relatively supportive, and most of the villagers liked him to begin with, so he had no lack of people to talk to, at least.

When he was 14, he got a job working with some magical creatures at a pet shop in the village. He had always loved animals, magical or otherwise, and realized that even without magic, he could take care of most magical creatures. He worked there until he was 18, when he decided he wanted to see more of the country.

He took a train into London and got a tiny flat, experiencing a city for the first time in his life. He realized that although his abilities were on par with the muggles that now surrounded him, he was still different, having grown up surrounded by the wizarding world. He managed to get a job at the London zoo, at first as a cleaner, but as he showed skill in the limited interactions he had with the animals, he was quickly promoted to a zookeeper's assistant, and within a couple of years, he was the chief keeper of the lions.

He kept this job for quite a few years, until his parents had become quite old. Ethan was missing his home, anyway, so after a while, he retired from his position at the zoo and moved back to his old home in Hogsmeade. He took care of his parents and met a wonderful young witch who fancied him despite his lack of magic. She owned a bookshop in Hogsmeade, and they spent long summer afternoons curled up together, reading.

Ethan lived a long, decent, and happy life in Hogsmeade, despite not having any magic himself. He had three children with his wife, all three of whom had magic. He didn't begrudge them their excitement to go to Hogwarts, and once they'd left school, he lived a calm, quiet retired life with his wife, and took up gardening in his old age. He passed away a few years before his wife, and she is now buried beside him in the Hogsmeade cemetery.