Petunia and the Little Monster

December 1975 (1)

The exhaust leaving the train billowed against the curved ceiling of the station like fumes against the inside of a dragon's belly, bloated and washed-out red. The noise fit as well, a low rumble and hiss of wheels across steel, overtaken by the murmur of a multitude of voices falling into a rhythm like the rushing of blood when the train stopped with a screech.

Petunia found their mother before Lily did, as she didn't have to say goodbye to anyone or extract promises for correspondence over the holidays. She had exchanged her Christmas presents before she had left Hogwarts, a knitted teapot warmer for Hagrid and a few of the rock cakes she had baked with him for the invisible magic in her room, together with a small thank-you card. She had felt slightly ridiculous as she had put it on her desk but she figured in the worst case she would find it exactly as she had left it – and in the best case the magic would know that she appreciated its efforts.

"Petunia! You look well, how are you?"

Petunia felt a small, sardonic smile adorn her lips at her mother's greeting. "I'm fine, Mum. That's a nice coat."

"Oh, thank you. An early present from your father – you know how he is, said it made no sense to wait until the end of December to gift me something I could use much earlier."

Petunia nodded in agreement while feeling strangely stiff, unsure how to act, as if someone was drawing a cast around her limbs, firming up with every second.

"So, how was the magic school? Did you make friends?"

"I'm not really close with any of the students, but there's a half-giant and an invisible cleaning service I feel quite grateful for."

"How ... quaint. It's very novel to hear you speak of such things." Her mother gave a laugh that sounded almost nervous. "Usually your sister is the one with the fantastical stories. Where is she, by the way? Did you sit together on the train?"

"Lily should be here soon, she's saying goodbye to her friends."

"Good, that's good. Well, I'm glad the both of you will be home for Christmas, it will be like before, all of us together. And maybe you can take this chance to speak to your teacher, I met her at the market the other day and she was telling me about your potential. I know you're doing this thing right now, but it's important to be realistic ..."

"Mum!"

Lily emerged from the crowd with a bright smile and arms laden with packages, her luggage trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

"Oh Lily," their mother gasped and extended her hands. "What's all this? You're packed like a mule!"

"Just some things from my friends. I can't wait for Christmas!"

This time her mother's laugh was light and effortless. "You're still like a child, no-one would believe that you'll turn sixteen soon!"

"I know," Lily beamed. "I can't wait. Let me just shrink this down so I can pack it away."

"I thought magic was forbidden outside of school?"

Lily gave a negligent shrug to Petunia's statement framed as a question. "There're so many adult wizards around, the trace won't pick it up just yet. I have to be careful at Cokeworth because it's mostly muggles but here it should be fine."

Muggles.

Something cold trailed down Petunia's neck. Lily had probably used that word before and she simply couldn't remember. Maybe she was overly sensitive because she had been made aware of her status as a non-magical person repeatedly while she was at Hogwarts.

She had no reason to be shocked. For Lily it was just another word like 'bread' or 'house', something short, simple and precise to describe a certain thing. A human with no magic.

The rest of her family.

"How practical! Really, it's a shame you're not allowed to use this at home, it would certainly make things a lot easier."

Lily had shrunk her packets down and was clicking her trunk closed, dusting her knees off when she stood back up. "I know, right? Thankfully it will be lifted once I'm seventeen. Then I'll bewitch the whole house so all the chores will do themselves, Mum."

"That sounds wonderful. Alright, we should get going, where's Severus?"

Lily's easy cheer faded into something colder. "He's not coming. He wants to spend the holidays with his new friends."

"But – it's Christmas! Surely his family ..."

Lily started walking. "I don't know, Mum! Ask him yourself."

Her Mum blinked at Lily's back before transferring her questioning gaze to Petunia.

"What's going on? Did they have a row?"

"I'm not sure, Mum, I haven't talked to him in a while."

"Seems like it's a touchy subject. I do hope that Eileen is aware that Severus is not coming ... wouldn't want her to think that I just left him here at the station because the kids aren't getting along at the moment."

"She's surely aware."

"Yes, she must be," she muttered, adjusting the sleeves of her new coat. "He wouldn't skip out on coming home during Christmas without warning. Well, let's catch up to your sister, shall we?"

"Yes, Mum."

Petunia tried to leave the feeling of hurt behind with the smoke curling against the ceiling, each step smearing a trace of it against the floor. So what if her Mother had not once asked her about the half-giant? So what if she was the only one to flinch when the word 'Muggle' had left her sister's lips?

So what if she was once more the one trailing behind, an afterthought despite all the new things she had learned, all the new opportunities she had thought herself in possession of?

She had to make a place for herself here just as she had to at Hogwarts. The role of dutiful eldest daughter was ill-fitting, as if she was slipping into an old skin that stretched tight across her features, forcing her eyelids to lower, her perspective to narrow and her mouth to distort around the words she was expected to say.

She felt changed. Her short nails, her sloppily pulled back hair and the coarse jacket she was wearing in place of her fine blazer, and what had her mother said when she had first seen her?

You look well.

Petunia should take it as a compliment instead of the empty platitude it had tasted off, the greeting one would offer an acquaintance and not family. Something inside her chest loosened, her feet no longer dragging and weighed down.

She was changed and she looked well. She wasn't a daughter returning to her home, she was a guest, a visitor, here during the holidays and gone again, off to build her own life, choose a new home, maybe a new family.

Petunia was on the path to becoming an adult and she would accept the hardships accompanied by freedom.

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