Petunia and the Little Monster

March, 1972

It wasn't the first time that week that Petunia awoke to a dead bird on her windowsill, so she wasn't too surprised. Looking at the fragile creature, one of its wings bent at an unnatural angle and small feet curled closed in death, she almost felt something like pity.

And then she wondered what Lily would have to say if she saw it. She would probably cry or try to reanimate it or something similarly pointless.

Petunia just took it with her into the little shed, finding Aspen still asleep on his nest of tarps. He had taken to nightly hunts since discovering a use for his wings and slept more during the day, though his rhythm was quite sporadic. Petunia deposited the bird next to him, sure he would eat it once he woke up and got hungry. She herself wasn't sure why he always left his prey with her. Did he want to brag about his success or was he trying to feed her?

Walking back into the house in search of her own breakfast, Petunia spotted her mother already at the kitchen table, drinking tea and flipping through a newspaper. She looked different than usual - her auburn hair was pulled back, her light lashes were darkened by makeup and she had exchanged her comfortable 'home' pants for a sensible dress. She looked up when Petunia walked to the sink to wash her hands and gave her daughter a smile. "I left the recipe next to the stove."

Petunia didn't answer. She just dried her hands and grabbed a toast from the rack.

"I'll get dressed for school," she mumbled before quickly leaving the room. Petunia would have liked to butter her toast and maybe also drink some tea, but her desire to not spend time in her mother's presence won out. She didn't want to look at her after the talk they'd had two days ago.

"I'm going to help out in the canteen at your father's workplace," was how her mother began that discussion. "Another salary will be good for us."

Petunia had wondered why they suddenly needed 'another salary'. True, they weren't rich, but they had a car, a house and enough food and clothing. She has never felt as if there was any need to worry about money.

And then it clicked - Lily. Of course this was about Lily, the golden child, the favourite daughter, the only one special in their 'muggle' family. Now that the prospect of flying brooms, owls, expensive school books and silver cauldrons loomed in the future, her mother suddenly wanted to work again.

"You are old enough to help around the house," her mother had continued. "And as Lily isn't here you just have to take care of yourself." She sighed when Petunia stayed silent. "Don't look so petulant, I already did all those things and more when I was your age - cooking, cleaning and running errands on top of that. All I'm asking you is to make your own meal while your father and I are at work."

And when Petunia had still not said anything, her mother's voice had grown sterner. "You are learning important things for your future. I won't always be there to mother you and it's important for a girl to know how to cook. Learning now, you'll make your future husband very happy."

And at that moment something sharp took a bite out of Petunia's intestines because she knew, she just knew, that her mother would never say those words to Lily. Lily, who would have a special, magical life, removed from all those mundane worries like cooking and keeping a household.

Lily, who her mother already envisioned doing something more.

Petunia chewed on her dry toast, trying to ignore her twisting stomach and hurriedly pulled on her school uniform. She would learn to cook, but she would learn for herself. Not for her mother, not for a future husband (don't think about him) but to treat herself well when her mother couldn't be bothered to cook anymore, now that her most important daughter was away from home almost all year.

Shouldering her bag, Petunia darkly promised herself that she would be the best cook in all of Cokeworth in the end. And she wouldn't share her food with anyone - except maybe Aspen, if he wanted a bite.

The school day crawled past her as if it had turned into a sticky syrup that simply refused to flow any faster. Petunia was annoyed with everything - the ugly glasses of her Geography teacher, the giggling girls next to her who wouldn't shut up about some singer or other, the dry scratching of chalk that crawled around her ears like an itchy bug.

Leaving school after what felt like days, a reluctant smile spread on her face when Aspen joined her halfway on her way back home, prancing out of the shadows of a big tree. His flanks were still as thin as ever but instead of only bones, Petunia imagined she could see the start of something like stringy sinews under his gleaming black skin. Maybe those were muscles he developed while flying?

"Did you enjoy your bird?", she asked, softly patting his spindly neck as he fell into step next to her. Petunia was the only one walking along this shortcut through the fields, so she wasn't worried about prying eyes. "Good job catching it, it must have been fast."

Aspen shook his patchy mane and stomped his hooves as if to agree.

Looking across the fields that had been bare in winter but now rustled like a green ocean in the spring breeze she sighed. "I'm not sure I will be as successful as you in taking care of myself, Aspen."

He nudged her shoulder.

Petunia nodded. "But I'll give it a try. After all, I'm the only one I can rely on."

Her first experiment turned out ugly but edible. Shoving a spoon full of slightly burned corn into her mouth, Petunia actually felt that it tasted pretty good. This was something she had done herself, something that was unrelated to magic or understanding death - something that no one could contest her for.

Maybe cooking would actually turn out to be a bit fun.

❀

❀