Petunia and the Little Monster

August 1975

Ms Crickerly led Petunia through a doorway and they boarded an elevator that looked more like a delicate, golden bird-cage, rattling chains and tinkling metal as their accompaniment instead of soothing, bland music when they ascended until it stopped with a disembodied announcement of "Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services."

They emerged into a corridor lined with doors and Petunia blinked at the window to her right. When she had stepped into the telephone booth the sky had been heavy and overcast, low clouds pregnant with gallons of unspilled rain pressing onto her head, but now ... the window showed spills of tropical sunshine, the light so clear it was more white than yellow, casting crystals of brightness into their path.

"It's enchanted. We're still underground." Ms Crickerly must have noticed her stare. "This way."

Petunia banished all musings of magical sunshine from her mind, trying to recall what Lily's friend had told them about the Ministry of Magic and what Petunia's role would be. With every step across polished wood she shortened the distance between herself and the person on trial, the muggle accused of keeping illegal creatures, a mantle she would be forced to wear like a jacket of lead.

Lily had been firmly convinced that denial would be the solution to everything, that Petunia should simply claim to have no knowledge of whatever she was convicted of, had never seen a Thestral and couldn't be held accountable for every wild beast roaming the fields around her house.

But Lily had a tendency to view things in a positive, rosy light whereas Petunia scratched at each clean surface until she found the nicks and dirt hidden beneath the perfect lacquer. And this was no different - what would happen to Aspen if Petunia renounced his existence? He didn't have anyone else to speak up for him, he wouldn't even be put on trial. Petunia was no idiot and she still remembered that he had been classified as dangerous.

Would they set him free? Or would they have him locked up somewhere 'safe'? She didn't even know where he was at the moment, if he was well, if he had a chance to stretch his wings and harass all the birds crossing his path, if he was even still alive -

Petunia felt a breath caught in her chest, her sternum tight and smarting and she did her best to focus on the steady rhythm of Ms Crickley's unwavering steps, leading her further down the corridor.

Aspen was fine, he had to be. She couldn't allow any other notion to fester in her head, infected with worry and anger like leaking pus and blood. Taking a deep breath, Petunia shifted her worry onto another trail; if she would even be able to lie to the witches and wizards. Lily's friend Mary had been vague when it came to this topic but her words had been branded into Petunia's memory anyway.

"Secrecy Sensor. They vibrate when they detect concealment and lies... not always in use, but for some trials they keep them on hand. Of course there is also veritaserum, but it's controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines, I can't imagine that they would force a mu- you to take it without any provocation."

They turned a corner, and arrived in front of a pair of heavy oak doors, 'Courtroom Four' etched in a plaque above the entry. Petunia noticed that it was slightly lopsided, making the otherwise imposing sight appear a bit shabby.

"On you go, just in time."

Petunia blinked. "You're not -"

"My task ends here. Good luck." Ms Crickley gave a curt nod and an impersonal smile before turning around and leaving without another word of goodbye.

For a few seconds longer Petunia's eyes remained glued to her receding back, as if the instinct to follow along like a stupid duckling had already been ingrained in her brain, before she forced herself to face the doors. She wished that there was someone at her side, someone who would take her hand and grip it with silent encouragement, someone to tell her it would all turn out alright, but silence gaped around her.

There's no time for this, Petunia reminded herself forcefully, her fingers only shaking slightly when she raised them to open the heavy doors.

Some part of her must have expected iron shackles and torches in the room beyond because she was surprised by the clean space unfolding in front of her, illuminated by delicate glass lamps ensconced in the walls. Rows of benches formed an U around a chair in the middle of the room, an undecorated, square piece of furniture with a straight back made from solid wood. A sprinkling of wizards and witches were seated on the curved benches, clothed in plum-coloured robes decorated with a stitched, silver W above the breast, around a dozen in total. The courtroom was made to seat many more and the air echoed with the absence of people.

A muggle girl's trial obviously didn't generate a lot of interest, Petunia thought with a mix of resentment and relief. She was reluctant to sit down in the prominent chair until a man with an impressively twirled beard spoke: "Very well, take a seat. You are Ms Petunia Evans, I presume?"

The chair had no cushion, the unforgiving wood pressing against the meat of her thighs when Petunia lowered herself. "Yes."

"The accused being present, let us begin. Are you ready?" he called down the row. A murmur of assent rose through the small crowd, no enthusiasm present in the voices. To them it was the same drudgery as every day, their thoughts on more important matters like breaktime or what they should have for dinner, while for Petunia her destiny hung in the balance, teetering above a plunging abyss.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," the bearded man started in a ringing voice as another bird-boned, tan man took notes, though his face remained placid and unengaged, "into offences committed under the Decree for Reasonable Regulation for Dangerous Creatures and the International Statute of Secrecy by Petunia Evans, muggle."

Petunia noticed a few faces lifting from the paperwork fanned across their laps as soon as the last word had been uttered, eyes blinking at her with surprise or derision. Apparently putting a muggle on trial was just as uncommon as Mary had believed it to be.

"Interrogators: Elphias Doge, Ministry of Magic jurist; Elphinstone Urquart, senior officer in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Abraham Grimblehawk, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures; Gilbert Macnair, Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Court Scribe, Jeremy Marchbanks."

Another voice spoke up as soon as Mr Doge finished, male and good-natured. But it didn't belong to any of the wizards Mr Doge had just listed - it emerged from behind Petunia's seat.

"Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

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Surprise!