Petunia and the Little Monster

August 1975

The air outside the courtroom tasted sweet to Petunia, breath after greedy breath inhaled deep into her lungs while her feet carried her away quickly and without conscious thought, as if her body wanted to flee the room behind her despite leaving unscathed.

Her instincts were telling her it wasn't over yet. Petunia glanced at the tall man keeping pace with her, looking unbothered by both her silence and brisk steps. He had clasped his hands behind his back, long purple sleeves hiding his fingers and was humming a soft tune.

Petunia still didn't know what he wanted.

The quiet lasted all the way to the elevators, the golden cage looking less like a prison when it took Petunia and her humming benefactor back to the Atrium this time. The sprawling hall had emptied further, only a handful of wizards and witches crossing the echoing, polished floors, each of them faltering when their eyes alighted on the wizard with his brightly coloured robes and sweeping beard.

In the end it was Dumbledore who broke their silence. "I hope my appearance today didn't unduly startle you, Ms Evans. Please excuse my familiarity, it was necessary."

They had halted right next to the creepy fountain with the proud wizard and witch, surrounded by poor, simpering creatures cast in eternal, metal subservience. Petunia forced her eyes away, sludging through the moor of her thoughts still heavy with relief and left-over fear, stirring possibilities and questions in her wake. Wizard-superiority and classism should be the least of her concerns at the moment.

"Why was it necessary?"

"I'm afraid it was the best solution presenting itself on such short notice."

"Short notice?"

"I only learned of your predicament recently. But more importantly, Ms Evans, my offer is genuine."
Petunia blinked, her thoughts successfully muddied once more. "Your offer?"

"I know my groundskeeper would be delighted to have an apprentice of his own - and as far as I am aware you are currently in search of a profession."

"You - you want me to work for you?"

"For Hogwarts," came the gentle correction, as if it made any difference.

Petunia refused to allow hope to take root, ruthlessly stamping down the delicate, unfurling sprouts.

"I am -" a muggle.

"I do not put much stock in judging others for something they have no influence on." Dumbledore's eyes ghosted to the fountain as if the implications of it were screaming as loudly at him as they were Petunia. "Though I am painfully aware that not many of my fellows subscribe to that same mindset."

One question finally bobbed to the surface of her whirling mind, boyed by stronger concerns than any other. "What about Aspen?"

Dumbledore blinked twice. "Oh, the Thestral, of course. He shall remain by your side, whatever your choice, though I don't doubt he would flourish among Hogwarts' herd."

Petunia swallowed. "There's a herd?"

"One of Hogwarts secrets - Thestrals drawing carriages since the school first opened its gate. Though nowadays not many are aware of them ... except of course those that take care of them."

Something rushed through Petunia, an excitement that was harder to bank than before. She saw herself and Aspen among many other Thestrals, taking flight, feeding all of them bits of meat ... but no. There had to be a catch.

"What would I have to do?"

"Learn from my groundskeeper for at least a year and help him to care for all the creatures that call Hogwarts and the surrounding forest their home. Board and lodging will be provided as will a small stipend for personal purchases."