Petunia and the Little Monster

September 1972

Petunia didn't have high hopes for her fourteenth birthday. Lily and the wretched boy had left for their second year just four days ago and her parents were still obviously missing their youngest daughter. They might put on some fake cheer, but Petunia wasn't looking forward to it.

Her birthday was also a time where she realised that she didn't have anyone to celebrate with. As much as Petunia had laid claim to Lily in the past, as much she had isolated herself at the same time.

So when she got up on the morning of September third she wasn't happy or giddy at all - that was until she swished aside her window curtains.

A familiar owl was sitting on her window sill, huge orange eyes meeting her own. Petunia's brain took a second to catch up with the implication but then a smile spread across her face.

This was already a better birthday than she had wished for.

Two months without a letter had been too long.

She quickly opened the window, letting in a rush of cool morning air, waking her up further. Krampus hopped inside and clacked his beak at her, maybe in protest of the wait, maybe in greeting.

Petunia couldn't banish the excitement from her voice. "How was Romania? Were you allowed to come along?"

Only after she asked out loud did Petunia realise that talking to Aspen had made her develop a strange habit. Krampus ignored her and held out his foot so she could free him from the letter and package tied to it.

Petals,

How did you weather the English summer? Rumania was quite hot and exciting. I'm proud to say that I still have all of my fingers and most of my hair. But don't worry, the singed ends give me a very flattering, dangerous flair, if I do say so myself.

If Krampus didn't take a wrong turn, this should arrive on your birthday, so I included your present. I risked life and limb to get it so it deserves a place of honour wherever you decide to display it. And no, I didn't pluck it - I'm dangerous, not suicidal.

Sincerely,

Gene

Petunia carefully closed the letter, making sure not to crinkle it. She already knew that she would open and reread it later but right now her curiosity was too much.

She took the package - wrapped in beige paper - and was surprised at its weight. It was about as big as her spread hand but weighed more than an iron pot. Carefully unfolding it, her breath stalled when she saw what was inside.

It looked almost like an oval plate, if it wasn't slightly curved and as thick as two fingers. It shimmered iridescence, as if molten quicksilver had been poured over deep blue metal. Petunia carefully touched it, feeling the smooth, cool surface against her trembling fingertips.

A scale. She had a real dragon scale.

Before Eugene she hadn't even known that they existed. They were something she heard in children's stories, something fantastic and unbelievable. And now this scale was here, right in front of her, and she was touching it. Proof that dragons existed.

Only Krampus' impatient hoot startled her from her frozen state.

Clambering for her pen and paper, she started writing her own letter. She really wanted to ask Eugene when his birthday was because for the first time in her life she wanted to give presents instead of receiving them.

❀

Petunia stared at the wizard in her living room, her back cold and clammy. He didn't look as intimidating as Mrs Snape, being rather of diminutive stature and with a patchy beard that obviously didn't grow the way he wanted it to - but to Petunia's eyes he could as well have been the bogeyman.

"Shoddy workmanship," he declared in a nasal voice while tapping the finally-finished fireplace with his wand. "But the charm should stick nonetheless."

Her father embarrassedly scratched his neck. "Thank you."

The wizard harrumphed. "Truly, a muggle household asking for a Floo connection ... I'll let you know frankly, if not for my niece asking this favour, you would have been left waiting for years. Years! If it got ever processed at all and not put away as a joke."

"Yes, thank you," her father mumbled again. Petunia felt sick seeing him grovel before this tiny man with his ridiculous beard. She didn't want to watch any longer, but her own anxiety kept her rooted to the spot.

"The upkeep will cost you," the wizard continued. "And you better pay in Galleons next time! I've got no use for this muggle money, a bother is what it is."

Her father apologised and Petunia barely kept herself from sneering. Where were they supposed to get Galleons? She didn't even know what they looked like.

And all this so Lily's friends could come visit her.

"Let me check the chimney outside, now that I'm already here I've got to make sure everything is in order with this shabby thing. Wouldn't want to lose a limb because of a misaligned brick, now would you?"

Outside? An invisible hand clamped around Petunia's throat, its touch hot and cold at the same time. With each step the wizard took towards the garden, it squeezed tighter.

He won't look at the shed, why would he look at the shed? It's not connected to the fireplace in any way, he has no reason to check it ...

Her legs felt weak but they still carried her after the wizard and her father, silently following in their wake. They stepped into the cool air, the overcast sky stretching like a grey blanket above their heads, hiding the sun and its warmth. Petunia shivered.

What if the wretched boy didn't keep his mouth shut? What if this was all a ruse to get Aspen? What if this wasn't a Ministry wizard responsible for fireplaces but one for magical pets?

Petunia's eyes were dry and itchy while she stared at the man's violet-clothed back, feeling her frenzied heart beat against her ribs like a fluttery, caged bird. But he simply strode past the garden shed, not even glancing at it, his attention focused on the chimney. He hummed and tapped and insulted it a few more times before apparently finding it up to standard.

Petunia watched him disappear. She should have felt better, but anxiety still crouched at the edge of her mind like a nighttime predator, ready to spring forward at any moment.

She already knew she would have nightmares again tonight. Nightmares about faceless men taking Aspen away and sticking her in a strange, magical prison she could never find her way out of no matter how far she ran.

In her dreams, they never ignored the shed.