Petunia and the Little Monster

February 1976 (6)

In order to avoid Potter, Petunia had first forced herself to familiarise herself with all the areas he was most likely to bother her – on the moving staircases between classes, somewhere on the grounds when the weather was tolerable, the Great Hall for snacks and leisure or lounging on various window-sills, balustrades or low walls like a cat waiting to ambush guileless passers-by.

The weather was grey and cold, slush soaking the grounds and winds whistling around the high towers in a shrieking melody, slate clouds reflected in frozen puddles. So Petunia opted for the Great Hall, passing through the open doors to be welcomed by low chatter and the crackle of a merry fire in the giant fireplace warming the room with an orange glow and banishing the wet coldness to the corridors outside.

Potter was sitting amongst a huddle of boys, two of whom were playing that strange talking chess game Petunia had first encountered in the Weasley's sitting room. One of the players was the dark-haired pretty boy, Sneer, and his opponent was the one she had been looking for: Remus Lupin, dressed in a cosy, mustard-coloured sweater and nibbling at one of his nails while his brown eyes were focused on the board.

They hadn't noticed her entrance and Petunia quickly walked to the table farthest away from the fireplace, as it had the least students sitting around, positioning herself so she could keep watching them across the hall without being conspicuous. Big bowls of fragrant tangerines, golden walnuts and gleaming apples were placed among the long tabletops where students had spread homework and games in equal measure. Petunia received a few stares but she opened the book Severus had finally delivered and burrowed between its pages until she felt the attention lessen.

Only then did she look up to observe Remus.

He didn't look ill or twitchy. The full moon was still more than a week away but he appeared bright-eyed and focussed on his game, there was no sweat on his forehead or tremble in his hand when he commanded one of his figures. He wasn't especially tall or broad for a boy his age but neither was he small or flimsy. He actually looked very average – apart from the light scars marking his face.

Petunia glanced at the page she held open.

To become a werewolf, it is necessary to be bitten by a werewolf in their wolfish form at the time of the full moon. When the werewolf's saliva mingles with the victim's blood, contamination will occur.

The silvery lines certainly didn't look like a bite, but they did appear animalistic. Like scratch-marks. In the past, Petunia might have dismissed the possibilities out of hand – apart from a bear there was no animal she could think of able to inflict such marks, but now she knew that even the placid woods and fields of England were teeming with creatures out of fairy tales. Maybe it had been a werewolf, but it could just as well have been a multitude of other clawed beings.

The book didn't give her enough information to go on, no deciding characteristic apart from the fact that werewolves were forced to transform once a month and would usually suffer in the days before and afterwards.

She'd have to observe him closer to the full moon, when Remus' body would either betray him or Severus' paranoia would be proven true.

"Well, look who's here."

Petunia's eyes flew up only to connect with hazel ones crinkled in amusement, round glasses reflecting a sliver of her own pale face.

Of course.

"Missed you, Pet. What are you reading?"

Petunia slammed the book closed and tugged it against her chest but a hand snaked around her wrist before she could stand up and walk away. Potter sat himself onto the table as if he couldn't see the bench.

"A secret? What is it? A hundred ways even muggles can bewitch wizards? How to get curves?"

His provocation forced Petunia to react, her glare spearing through him. "How to kill obnoxious brats without leaving evidence."

"A girl with a dangerous mind. Not as boring as you look, you always surprise me."

"Pity, you're exactly as unbearable as you look."

He laughed and his hand relaxed his grip. Petunia shook him off but before she could act he leaned forward and stole the book from her arms in one whip-like motion. Hopping from the table and dancing out of her range he held it up to his face to read the title.

"'Furry Foes and ...'" His smile fell away. "Werewolves? Why are you reading up on them?"

Because Severus is quite convinced your friend is one of them.

"A pack lives in the forest."

"So? You want to offer yourself as an appetiser?" His voice sounded forced.

Petunia knew she didn't have to explain herself to anyone, least of all James Potter, but still she had to bite her lip to keep the excuses at bay. The more she said, the more suspicious it would seem. So she stood up and rounded the table, ripping the book out of his slack fingers.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm simply worried. A thin thing like you, and not even a witch, they'd pick their teeth with your bones and won't even get a decent meal out of it."

"I don't see how that concerns you."

"Oh, this again." He rolled his eyes, his easy cheer feeling natural once more. "I'm looking out for you, Pet. Didn't I say we should become friends? I'm pretty sure I did. And then you stomped off as if I had pissed in your porridge."

"I would have felt less disgusted if you had."

"Ah, I missed this. Where have you been hiding, hmm? You and that dreadful dog-thing, where is it by the way?"

"Beneath the table, waiting to bite your ankles clean through."

"See, there is a sense of humour behind all those frowns and pinched lips. But seriously, you should get werewolves out of your head. Nothing good can come from it."

"I don't have to listen to you."

"Promise me."

What the – "No."

He sighed, as if deeply disappointed. "You know what's really sad, Pet? Muggles. And how little power they have. If one crossed my path, brooding over something I don't want them to, I could wipe the thought clean out of their head and there is nothing that they can do to stop me."

Petunia froze.

"Truly sad, don't you think? They wouldn't even notice. Pitiful. But I'm glad we're friends, I'll look out for you."

Something curled inside her stomach, something vicious and sour, as if she had drunk a gallon of spoiled milk, and Petunia couldn't determine if she was sick or enraged, her breath heavy on her tongue. 

"I'm not your friend. You're conceited, horrible, drunk on power you like lording over others because that's the only way you feel you're worth something, you think threatening me makes you stronger or better?"

There was a moment of silence where they just stared at each other before Potter smiled. "What a poisonous mouth. Get rid of that book, alright?" Potter waggled his finger as if Petunia was a misbehaving pup. "It's for your own good."

And then he turned away and strolled through the hall back to his table, where people welcomed him with broad grins and waggling eyebrows.

Petunia just barely stopped herself from throwing the heavy book against the back of his head.

❀

For all of you who missed James :)