Petunia was always the worse sister - not as pretty, not as kind and especially not as magical as Lily. Jealousy and bitterness rule her life, until one fateful encounter changes her destiny ...
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Petunia was always the lesser out of the two Evaness...
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After their shared breakfast Hagrid led her from his hut, dew and mud clinging to his ridiculously sized boots the further afield he walked. He'd thrown a moleskin coat over his broad shoulders as a small drizzle had started up and offered Petunia one of his spares, though she had to hold up the slack material lest it drag behind her like a mantel.
She felt like a ridiculous child dressing in her father's cloak.
"Ye'll need some sturdier clothes," Hagrid told her. "None o' tha' fancy stuff yer sportin'. It'll get ripped up in a jiffy an' ye'll see every speck o' dirt."
Petunia was suddenly all too aware of what she was wearing, a long skirt made from soft cotton over warm tights and a knit jumper with a bell-collar. Yesterday she had stuck out because she wasn't dressed like a wizard and now she was unsuitable because she wasn't dressed like Hagrid.
"Ye can get yer clothes in Hogsmeade – Dragonskin's good fer fending off temperatures an' teeth alike, but it's pricey."
"Teeth?"
"Well, some of the little ones can get a bit snippy." He laughed as if this was funny. "But no worries, ye'll learn all the quicker fer it."
"So you have Dragonskin clothes?"
"No, I've no need fer it, my hide's thick enough."
Petunia felt something inside her mind ping at the information, as if his words had plucked one string in a wide web of thoughts, vibrating but faint and almost invisible. Before Petunia could trace where it led her, they stopped in front of a small dirt path leading between the trees and her attention focused on the woods in front of her.
Here the forest didn't appear as forbidding, the firs were smaller and interspersed with lighter birch and oak trees that contributed a soft blanket of leaves over the ground and allowed strings of silver rain to trickle down like glittering garlands hung from the sky. It felt ... less oppressive.
"I thought we would save the Black Forest for another day?"
"Ah, this hardly counts as part o' it. An' ye should know where ter find your charges."
Hagrid led her between the trees, following a well-trodden dirt path until the foliage parted in front of them, unfurling like two green wings to present Petunia with a wide clearing fenced in by wooden rails.
And inside them were Thestrals.
Not just one or two but a whole herd, big and small, all of them with gracefully curved necks and attentive, white eyes. Wings stretched lazily, manes were shaken and soft huffs could be heard.
"Here we are. That's the lof of 'em an' your main responsibility from now on. Not many folks tha' can see 'em an' even less who aren't worried about gettin' bad luck by bein' around 'em."
Even though there was no outward difference in colouring or size Petunia could immediately spot Aspen, lingering on the outskirts of the herd, his slim head turning her way at hearing Hagrid's voice. Maybe it was the edge of the bone ridge above his slitted nostrils, maybe it was the delicate curve of his spine, maybe it was just a sense of familiarity and home in those milky pupils.
