P.EVANS + J.POTTER

14

P.EVANS + J.POTTER

mwah, hello my lovely friends

<14>
the last letter

          PETUNIA STARED AT JAMES IN bewilderment as he, yet again, dropped another blanket onto the floor.

       "Aren't you supposed to be sporty," She tisked, grabbing another blanket from the closet, "You've not caught one thing I've thrown your way."

       "Oh, dear tuna," he lightly mocked back, "I am, as you call it, 'sporty'," he repeated her wording, "But, to be fair, your throwing is well.." He went quieter, "not very accurate."

         If Petunia was being honest, she actually hadn't heard the end of the boy's sentence. However, that didn't stop her from scoffing, throwing another blanket towards him.

       "If I remember correctly," She thought out, grabbing one last blanket for herself, "I had successfully," she said in air quotes, "hit you with a rock."

       "Was that before or after you pointed a stick at me and said avada kadevra," He picked up the fallen blankets on the floor, trying anything to hide his smile.

        "I-" Petunia stuttered, "I, uhm," She smiled weakly, "I simply don't recall that."

        "I've never seen someone be such a bad liar," James responded almost instantly, which cause Petunia to playfully roll her eyes in response. "Not even Pete."

           "The boy turns bright red when he lies!" She gaped, failing to suppress her laugh, "He's doomed to ever successfully say anything but the truth."

       And as she heard James laugh as well, the girl couldn't help but smile wider than before — loving the sound of it.

       

       Though, before she could say anything else, her eyes wandered from the boy to her still unpacked bag — seeing the small slip of parchment barely hang out.

        "Hey James?" She quietly commented, veering her attention back to the boy briefly. "I got another letter a few days ago."

         James didn't respond at her words, almost as if he didn't hear her. But Petunia knew he did. Because she watched as he followed her gaze, seeing what she had just saw.

"Who's it from."

"Amber."

He looked to her.

       "Do you want to open it?" He tilted his head, barely taking a step back as he shut the door, "Or I could read it? Tell you what it says?"

         "What did you think the first letter said again?" She grinned, "it twasn't me?"

"One letter off," he defended himself, "And my wording sounded better, it really takes the edge off."

"The edge of?" Petunia questioned as she grabbed the envelope, "Wouldn't you want to get straight to the point if you were being framed for murder?"

"Fair point."

"Mhm," She hummed in response, taking a seat against her bed. James joined her side immediately, basically laying his head against her shoulder as she carefully opened the parchment.

Unlike the last letter, this one was longer, somehow more complex than before. And it wasn't because the letters were jumbled like before. No. It was because this one was written normally, in complete sentences that made sense to both of the people reading it.

The handwriting wasn't rushed like before, but it was bolded, aggressive. Petunia read each words as if Amber wrote it in regret, anger, betrayal.

Though, there was one thing wrong with it. And that was it wasn't finished.

Petunia,

It's been a minute, hasn't it? I'm assuming Oliver and Henry had pulled through for me, or at least i'm assuming so, with my last letter. I had to put in a lot of effort for it to get to you.

I'm hiding. I assume I'm safe for the moment. However, that could change at any time. You-know-who always knows everything. You should remember that. He knows everything.

I'm assuming you have questions. I know you do. But I cannot answer them as I don't know everything myself.

I'm sorry for your parents.

I didn't do it, if you didn't get that from my last letter. But I was there. I watched it, saw them begging for their lives.

I hadn't felt remorseful at the time. I couldn't, it was clouded — just like everyone else who had watched.

Again, I'm sorry.

If I'm being honest, I don't know why I'm writing to you. Is it regret? Maybe it's out of getting karma points. Or maybe it's because I know I can help you, even if it's only a little.

I did not kill your parents.

But you know the person that did.

You've heard of her, maybe have met her — i'm not sure of your social life outside henry, oliver and I.

don't let her in.

She's been behind everything — she's the result of your visions. I trusted her, look where it's led me. Don't let her

The sentence never finished.

The letter was never signed.

P.EVANS + J.POTTER