Petunia was always the worse sister - not as pretty, not as kind and especially not as magical as Lily. Jealousy and bitterness rule her life, until one fateful encounter changes her destiny ...
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Petunia was always the lesser out of the two Evaness...
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The numbness set in slowly. Like snow softly settling on the ground, flake by flake, layer by layer, until everything beneath was frozen and silent.
The first few flakes were nightmares, shifting images of faces Petunia didn't know, names she never heard called for in endless repeats, the voices in her memories hoarse and desperate. Footsteps behind her, but she could never turn around to look who was following her, only knew that she had to get away but no matter how fast she tried to run she never moved.
And then the nightmares ceased, her body ridding itself of the memories by enhancing them like trying to kill the flu with boiling fever and suddenly Petunia was confronted with something else.
Lily's silence. Her parent's pale faces after Petunia forced Lily to tell them the truth. The closed newspaper that laid beside the family's breakfast spread, untouched but not unnoticed. And when Petunia's eyes ghosted over the thick, black headlines, doubt churned in her stomach. Had it really been a gas leak? Had it really been a burglary? How would she know, how would anyone know?
The reprieve she had hoped for, the thing to distract herself and focus her energy on, turned into another layer of ice on her skin. It felt strange writing to Eugene after getting his first response - I'm sorry, Petals - and sifting through the bare information he could offer her - My father didn't really study those creatures in detail, they too closely resemble the one being he is uncomfortable in dealing with - people.
Her pen would hover over the paper, words tumbling through her mind, but none touched her heart and so none left the tip of her pen. She didn't know what she should say to him, she didn't know what to name the feeling she endured when she thought about him.
On some level Petunia understood why Eugene had never told her about the war. Their time together had always felt like something removed from their usual existences.
For Petunia, Eugene was an escape from her mundane school, her unconcerned family, her left-over status as the lesser sister. When she was with him, he made her feel pretty and interesting and important, made her feel like all her worries were unfounded.
And maybe for Eugene, Petunia had fulfilled a similar function. She didn't see him only as Newton Scamander's son and she was untouched by the war that was festering in his world. Maybe in her company, for a few hours at least, he could delude himself that its violent reality would never disrupt them in their little bubble of happiness and blissfully forget about it.
But all fantasies had to come to an end. And now that their bubble had popped, Petunia was suddenly unsure how they should continue.
In the end she couldn't bring herself to ignore him and she couldn't bring herself to lie to him either. So she simply wrote a few short sentences and hoped that he could understand that she needed some time.
Lily left for Hogwarts, but instead of relief, Petunia felt just a smudgen emptier. At least while her little sister was around, Petunia could nurse a small ember of resentment or anger to keep her warm and her feelings alive, but now that she was alone, that ember turned to cold ash.
It was on her sixteenth birthday, two days after Lily had left, that Petunia finally realised how numb she had grown.
She was staring at her favourite strawberry shortcake, its sugary scent lingering in the warm afternoon sunlight slanting through the room's windows while her parents were complimenting Petunia on her new dress. Her mother had actually baked the cake herself, evident in the slightly lopsided top and too-little strawberries, and usually that thought would have filled Petunia with just enough happiness that she started to resent herself. Mum always baked Lily's cakes, so why should Petunia be grateful if it was done for her?
But actually she felt nothing. No happiness, no resentment, not even a twinge of hunger or appetite. Sitting in front of her could have just as well been a slap of wet cardboard for all the impression it left on her.
I have to do something, the thought came out of nowhere and sent a small ripple through the stillness of Petunia's mind. I have to do something before there is nothing left for me to do, before there is nothing I ever want to do.
As if controlled by another entity she ate a piece of cake, not tasting the cloying sweetness of the thick cream or the tartness of the fruits even though they touched her tongue. She thanked her mother for the cake, for the dress and dutifully put it on so her father would smile and nod. And then she watched as they left, her father to meet some work friends and her Mum to pick up groceries and the thought echoing in her head intensified.
Do something, do anything, don't just stop like this ...
She was turning sixteen, shouldn't she be happy or nervous or a mixture of both? She was no longer a girl, but a young lady, she should be looking forward to her future and decide what she wanted to do with it, and celebrate this day that she was born ...
There's nothing you can do, Tuney!
She had to do something. A shuddering breath reached her lungs and it felt like the first in weeks that actually provided her with oxygen. Inhaling greedily she gulped the air, her chest expanding wide and the pinched feeling fleeting with every breath.
She was alive, she was young but grown, she could decide what to do now. There was no guarantee of success and no responsibility to change the world, simply her whims and wants.
I want to do something.
So what if it might amount to nothing? So what if she really couldn't do anything? At least she wouldn't continue to be buried under this layer of nonchalance, at least she would feel alive.
When she had received Eugene's response, that he didn't know a lot about the sentient creatures either, she had taken it point blank, not even thinking about it further. Her task had met a dead-end right at the beginning and she had simply given up, left it unfinished.
But her story hadn't started with her first letter to Eugene. It had started with herself.
Feeling the energy surging through her veins, the curiosity in her heart and the whirling thoughts in her mind, Petunia didn't hesitate. Not even changing out of her new dress, she stormed to their fireplace and grabbed a handful of newspapers to ball up and throw inside, uncaring of the headlines for once.
The vase with the magical, glittering powder seemed to catch the light like a beacon, reflecting right into Petunia's soul.
So what if Lily thought Petunia couldn't do anything?
She would do what she wanted.
Once a small flame had been coaxed to life, Petunia grabbed a handful of the small grains, crunching and squeaking between her fingers and threw it into the fire. A wave of heat washed over her skin, the fine hairs on her arms standing up while her pale eyes reflected bright green light.
So what if Eugene didn't know? He wasn't the only source of information available to her.
God helps those who help themselves.
Petunia stepped into the flickering, emerald flames, warmed by them just as much as the new determination burning inside herself.
