Her eyebrows furrowed; she knew that Fredrick had some friends who were also squibs (Agatha really hated that word, but she managed to stay quiet about that for her husband's sake), hell even her brother had managed to. She'd never seen Fredrick this frazzled or crazed; it worried her far more than she was letting on to him. Someone had to remain calm!
"Fredrick!" she snapped, her patience having grown thin. Agatha's patience was solely reserved for their children these days; no more dancing around the topic at hand, whatever it was. She crossed the room and grabbed onto Fredrick's wrists, pulling them down to try to keep him in place. He looked so panicked! Fredrick, her man that always had something sharp on the tip of his tongue, seemingly lost for words.
"What happened? What kind of meeting was this?" Had they hurt him? Had they threatened to? Why would other squibs make him feel like this?
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