Petunia and the Little Monster

December 1972

Petunia straightened her skirt for the sixth time, making sure that all the ironed folds laid neatly against her legs. The fabric felt soft and cool against her fingertips and she took a deep breath to calm the skittering nerves that were humming like electricity just underneath her skin.

This was the first time she'd been invited to someone's party. No matter that it had been a very casual invite and she barely knew anyone here - Petunia wouldn't allow herself any blunders. Her appearance had to be immaculate. For that reason, Petunia had combed her blonde hair into a stylish updo that looked too old for someone her age, but she found that it gave her a grown-up and serious air. She had even stolen some of her Mom's pearly lipstick and applied it in secret. It felt sticky and strange on her lips and she had to constantly remind herself not to lick it off absentmindedly.

After confirming that everything was in order, Petunia grabbed a hand of the fine powder which was stored in a floral vase next to the fireplace. The grains rubbed against her skin and a few tumbled through the gaps between her fingers, dusting the carpet at her feet.

Petunia tried to recall everything Mrs Snape had told her the first and only time she ever used the magical fire. Speak clearly, keep your arms by your side and your eyes closed.

Looking at the small flame she had coaxed to life with a lot of patience and fire-starter, Petunia straightened her shoulders and threw her handful of powder into it. Immediately the fire whooshed higher, glowing bright green and bathing her face with a wave of dry heat.

Just take a step.

Closing her eyes, Petunia stepped forwards until she felt ash crunch underneath her soles and the prickling of the flames licking over her.

"The Burrow!"

Something invisible grabbed her intestines to drag them away while the floor dropped from beneath her feet. Instead of falling down, she was falling up and then direction lost all meaning. Petunia wasn't sure where she was, or where she began and ended - but before panic could get a hold of her, it was already over. Gravity snapped back like an overstretched rubber, and she was whole again.

Gasping for breath, Petunia stumbled forward, soot covering her formerly pristine shoes. Lifting her head to get her bearings, Petunia realised what she had just stepped into: chaos.

The room before her was filled with a mass of people, young and old, most of them red-haired. Chatter was bounding from the low, wooden ceiling in such volume that Petunia almost felt as if she was in the middle of a bazaar. The smell of food and wine was overpowering, the spices lingering in the air and covering even the smoky smell of the merrily crackling fire behind her. Suppressing the urge to sneeze, Petunia looked around, feeling out of place. Somehow she had not given any thought to what she would do once she was at the party. All her thoughts had been occupied with her appearance and how to get here in one piece.

"Ah! You must be one of the Fawcett cousins, am I right? This way, this way."

A merry, young woman in a knit sweater had bumbled up to her, grabbing Petunia's arm and towing her away from the fireplace, which looked very old and was almost completely caked black. "Gotta keep that space free for any other arrivals, you understand. The Fawcett girls are out back, I think, should we go look for them? Oh, and how impolite of me, my name is Molly, Molly Pre- Weasley."

Petunia was overwhelmed, her gaze flickering between the pudgy hand holding her arm and the red-cheeked smile directed at her. The woman couldn't be much older than twenty and had a friendly, round face dominated by apple-cheeks and warm, hazel eyes. Her hair was a brilliant shade of red, a bit more orange than Lily's but just as eye-catching.