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“Bye, Mum, bye Lily!” Petunia Evans leaned out her bedroom window, waving goodbye as her mum and little sister walked down the sidewalk, on their way to do their shopping. Mum wanted to get some seeds for the garden, and, Petunia thought, they’d probably end up at the bakery, too.
Her mum just raised a hand in acknowledgement, but Lily spun around, waving wildly as she walked backwards. “Bye, Tuney!”
Biting back a grin, Petunia waved, watching until her mum and Lily disappeared around the corner. She stepped back from the window and whirled, excited at the possibilities of being alone in the house. What should she do first?
Well, first she should ignore the little voice reminding her of Mum’s lectures on being more responsible. She was eleven. Almost a teenager! That was responsible enough for now.
Petunia thought for a moment, then grinned and bolted for the stairs — jumping on each step as she went down. This summer was going to be an absolute blast. She was finally old enough to stay home alone when Mum was out. And, best of all, Mum agreed she was still too young to be left watching her little sister. Mum had taken little Lily with her to the flower shop. Petunia loved her little sis, but she hated the flower shop even more than she hated gardening. It was so boring! Staying home alone was so much more fun, especially when she had no responsibilities. Well. She knew she was supposed to tidy up the house and get dinner prepped before Mum came back from shopping and Dad was done with work, but she had hourrrsss to get all that done. Petunia giggled. So many things she could do with the house to herself!
Petunia skipped into the kitchen to find something for a snack. She smirked as her eyes landed on the cake leftover from the night before. It had been a special treat to celebrate her mum’s new secretarial job. Petunia got a plate that was drying on the dish rack and a knife out of the drawer, and carefully sliced into the moist, rich, yellow cake. It was going to be so good! She could practically taste it from the sweet smell alone. Her mum would undoubtedly complain about her eating the cake for a snack, but mum was out shopping, so. Cake. Petunia lay the knife on the counter next to the sink and took a bite. She almost swooned! So good!
A rustling in the tiny cupboard they used for a pantry drew her attention. Shoulders tensing, Petunia put her plate down and sidled over to the pantry door. She cautiously inched it open. Something moved suddenly. She only glimpsed it out of the corner of her eye. That something — like a thick black rope — slipped away between the bag of potatoes and the bag of onions. All the tension left her shoulders in sudden relief. §§All right there?§§ she asked.
A tapered black head poked out from between the two bags. §§All is well, Ssspeaker hatchling,§§ the snake hissed back. §§A most successful hunt. A juicy little mouse was making free of the food baiting this trap. A most excellent hunting strategy, although not one I would normally advocate, young hatchling.§§
Petunia fought a smile. She’d tried to explain the concept of a ‘pantry’ before, but the snake persisted in its belief that she was baiting a trap for unwary rodents. §§As long as you eat the rodentsss before my nest mother ssseesss them, Innnky,§§ she hissed at the snake. §§Oh, and it’s probably best my nest mother doesn’t see you, either.§§
§Yesss, ssso you’ve sssaid before,§§ the snake said, sounding a trifle put out at the reminder. §§I have eaten, now I shall go out to lay in the sssun and be warm.§§
After seeing the young snake out the door to the back yard, Petunia finished her cake and washed the plate and knife. Now what? She wandered into the living room and threw herself down on the couch. What to do first? There wasn’t much on telly at the mo. She could read a book, or listen to a record… Or even…. Petunia grinned as she jumped up and pushed the coffee table out of the way. She needed a clear space to move. Then, it was but a matter of moments to get the correct record on the turntable and start it playing…
The familiar strains of The Nutcracker Suite soared through the air. Petunia centered herself in the open space, gracefully posed, just as she’d seen on the telly. She waited, listening, and at the proper musical cue, took the first step of her favorite ballet. She wasn’t very good, her parents couldn’t afford more than a handful of lessons for her, but she loved ballet more than anything. So she watched what she could, and even found books in the library about ballet. Somehow she could even make herself lighter, so she could do some of the ballet’s graceful jumps and turns. Petunia lost herself in the magic of the music and the dance.
The sharp knock on the door startled her as she stood on tiptoe, leaning over with one leg outstretched, and she nearly fell over. Catching herself awkwardly, Petunia straightened up and hurried to pull the needle off the record before going to open the door. She very nearly gaped at the… individual standing on the doorstep. He had a grandfatherly smile and a twinkle in his eye — and the absolute strangest clothes she’d ever seen outside the theater. “Can I… erm, help you?” She asked, hesitantly. She had to admit, she was a tiny bit worried about being home alone, now.
“I most certainly hope I can help you, young lady,” the man said jovially. He held up an oddly thick envelope. “Are you Miss Patricia Evans?”
The writing on the envelope clearly said Petunia Evans, so she dismissed the mistake. It’s not as though she’d never heard that error before, after all. “Yes, sir. And if I may ask, who are you, and what do you want?”
“Why, I’m Albus Brian Wulfric Percival Dumbledore. The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I’m here to invite you to come away to my special school, Patricia.” The old man positively twinkled at her. “Are your parents here, by any chance?”
Feeling slightly better about her odd visitor — and growing excited about the opportunity to go away to school, and a magical school at that — Petunia shook her head. “Dad is at work. Mum is out for the day. Can you come back later?” No… They’d be tired tonight… She bit her lip. “Maybe this weekend? They will be free then.”
Headmaster Dumbledore’s face turned sorrowful. “Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear. That simply won’t do. I have no time to spare this weekend. But I simply must get their approval for you to attend my school.”
Petunia’s stomach swooped with disappointment at causing the Headmaster difficulty, then she felt dizzy with hope as the Headmaster held up a finger, signaling her to wait a moment. He was obviously trying to work out something that could help. She felt herself practically vibrating with tension as she waited.
“Hmmm…” The Headmaster stared into the distance, muttering under his breath. Petunia was able to catch only a few words. “Oh, yes. This will indeed serve Minerva well for sticking me with this duty.” Then the Headmaster turned to Petunia and smiled. “How about this: I will tell you all about Hogwarts, and then I will ask one of my teachers to come pay you and your parents a visit on the weekend?”
“Oh!” Petunia clapped, a feeling of relief and happiness bursting out of her. “That sounds wonderful! Please, do come in, Headmaster Dumbledore.”
The elderly Headmaster followed her inside, and accepted her offer of tea. When they were seated on the couch, tea cups in hand, Dumbledore smiled genially and said, “The amount of accidental magic that has occurred around you is quite impressive, young lady. I’ve seen the Ministry reports, you know. Easily twice the usual number of times the Accidental Magic Obliviators are normally called out.”
“Accidental magic?” That meaning was obvious enough, and the Headmaster had said Witchcraft and Wizardry, but… Petunia frowned. “Obliviators?”
“Why yes. Nothing to concern your pretty little head about, of course, my girl. It’s the Statute of Secrecy. Can’t be having Muggles knowing about magic, after all.” Headmaster Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. “Now, then. Tell me of your magic. You’re quite the powerful little witch.”
Dozens of instances of oddity flooded Petunia’s mind. Strange coincidences and happenstances — or so she’d thought. The possibility they were magic filled her with excitement. She innocently met the Headmaster’s twinkling blue eyes… and everything stopped. An odd twisting feeling passed through her mind, leaving her with a bit of a headache and the oddest feeling that her brain itself was itchy.
“Excellent, excellent, my girl.” Dumbledore leaned forward, gaze still intent on Petunia’s eyes. “All this is very good. A dropped glass that doesn’t break, your mother’s expensive vase suddenly repaired after you bumped it… Ah, the exuberance of youth. All very typical, really. Now, what’s this? Your teacher keeps breaking her chalk.” He gave a hearty chuckle. “Yes, I’m afraid we’ve all wanted to do that to our teachers at one time or another, haven’t we?”
Petunia felt she should smile back at the Headmaster, but she still felt as though she couldn’t move. Was he in her head? She didn’t like that at all. It gave her a squirmy feeling inside. She had to get him out!
“But what’s this?” Headmaster Dumbledore’s brows rose suddenly as his twinkle dimmed. “Snakes?” He cast her a worried look.
Ignoring the way her stomach dropped at that look, Petunia shot to her feet, not realizing that she’d broken free from his mental hold rather than being released. The Headmaster wouldn’t hurt her, right? He was a teacher. And now he wanted to know about her talking to snakes. she’d never thought of it as magic, but she was eager to show off for him, so it was good. Right? “Oh, yes! I talk to snakes all the time! Come outside, I’ll introduce you to my friend Inky.”
The headmaster followed, his eyes shadowed and grave when she wasn’t looking. Out on the back step, running his hand pensively down his beard, he watched while she looked for her snake.
“She should still be sunning herself,” Petunia babbled, worried when the snake was nowhere to be seen. She checked under the hedges surrounding the yard, then bent to look under the shed. §§Inky! Come out here, pleasssse,§§ she called softly. She didn’t notice the Headmaster’s eyes widen, or the way he paled when he recognized the language she spoke.
“So you do speak Parseltongue,” the Headmaster mused, speaking to himself more than to Petunia.
She stood up, facing him, and realized how disturbed he suddenly seemed. Disturbed now herself, Petunia bit her lip again, and said, “I’m sorry, Headmaster, I didn’t quite hear you.”
“Did you not?” The Headmaster asked lightly as he studied her. Suspicion filled his eyes as he watched Petunia squirm. His eyes turned hard and cold as ice. “You are too powerful for your own good, my girl. And Parseltongue is an evil, evil gift. It does you no favours to speak it. I hate to do this. What will I tell Minerva? But…” The Headmaster shook his head wearily. “I’ve no choice. I can’t make that mistake again. I won’t.”
Petunia frowned as the Headmaster pulled out a pale, knobby stick and pointed it at her. She took a few steps back, looking from the stick to his eyes, and then everything went black.
“Obliviate!”
Petunia sat up in bed with a groan. Ugh. It was summer, she was supposed to be playing. Instead, she had so many chores to do today before her parents got home. She hauled herself out of bed and stomped down the stairs, feeling petulant that no one was around to hear just how put out she felt about the whole ordeal. This was why parents had kids, she was sure of it. To make them do all the work around the house.
She complained about all the chores as she did them, even though no one was there to listen. It took far longer than she liked to get all of it done. Dusting and sweeping, running the little carpet sweeper over the rug, chopping the veg for dinner… Would these chores never end?
When she finally finished, Petunia went up to her room and lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and scowling at the injustice of her having to stay home and do chores while little Lily got to go shopping with their mother. Spoiled little chit.
Petunia didn’t notice when she slipped back into sleep, her anger disturbing her slumber and keeping her from a deep enough rest.
“TuneyTuneyTuney!”
Her little sister’s shouts jolted Petunia from sleep. Ugh. She braced herself as Lily raced into the room and threw herself on the bed, barely an inch away from Petunia’s side. “Hey, watch it, brat.”
No longer excited, Lily’s face fell, her green eyes widening. “Tuney? Are you feeling all right?”
Petunia glared and snapped waspishly, “How should I be feeling when you’re trying to squash me?”
“Wasn’t trying to…” Lily muttered sullenly, climbing back off the bed. She stood watching Petunia glare at her for a few moments, before giving an exaggerated sigh and going to the bedroom door.
A vague feeling that there was something wrong prompted Petunia to ask, “What did you want, anyway?”
“Oh!” Lily whirled, a hopeful expression blooming across her face. “Your snake friend Inky asked me to ask you if you were coming outside to talk today!”
Petunia shuddered. Snakes. Ew. Horrible, nasty creatures. “Don’t be foolish. Snakes can’t talk.”
Lily gaped at her. “But Tuney, of course she can talk! It’s magic!”
Why did her little sister have to have such an annoying imagination? “And there’s no such thing as magic. Stop talking nonsense.” Petunia rolled over, her back to the room. Maybe she could continue her nap and her head would feel better.
“But, Tuney…” Lily’s voice sounded small and hurt.
As if Petunia cared. “Go away, I’m sleeping!”
Lily sniffled, paused, and then sniffled again. Louder this time.
As if that would work, Petunia thought, mockingly. She waited, tense, until finally the sound of small feet in battered trainers scuffing at the floor indicated her little sister had left the room. Now she could relax. Petunia couldn’t wait to get done with school and out of this house, and finally be a grown up. She’d never have to deal with her annoying little sister ever again, or hear about snakes, or listen to talk about magic.