Petunia and the Little Monster

September 1975 (5)

Petunia marvelled at the spread before her, delicate silver racks holding toasts which were an even shade of gold, jam and butter placed in delicate little porcelain dishes, grilled tomatoes and crispy hash browns sending curls of steam into the air, the aroma of rich gravy and beans teasing her nose while her eyes wandered over sausages and eggs, everything looking picture perfect.

"Ah, is this her?"

Petunia glanced up at a man wearing a vest that was a few sizes too small, the wooden buttons straining and allowing everyone a glimpse of the mustard-yellow dress shirt he wore underneath the chequered garment. His face was jovial and somehow reminded Petunia of a clown, with a red-tinged nose, bushy bundles of light hair above his ears and big, blue eyes. He thrust a hand into her face causing her to reel back.

"Phineas Pudubec, Teacher of Muggle studies, pleased to make your acquaintance! To actually meet a muggle in the know and of all places here in Hogwarts! Marvellous, truly marvellous!"

Petunia tried to hide her startled apprehension behind a blank look. "Petunia ... Evans."

"I'm aware, there has been talk of a new member joining the staff table this year, a new position even, something to do with the creatures? No matter, I'm much more interested in your nature, Ms Evans! You're a true muggle? No squib, no magical parents whatsoever?"

Petunia would have been relieved by the fact that he ignored her last name and didn't make any mention of Lily if the man hadn't instead decided to focus on her non-magical status of all things.

"I don't see how that's relevant ..."

"Oh, how could you, of course, but a muggle at Hogwarts is an event once a millennial, and never has one been employed! The opportunities – you just have to come to my class, let my students ask you questions about being a muggle, how you eat and work and tell the time – of course, as this is my field of study I know a lot already, canned peas are truly a marvel, so quaint and practical at the same time, so muggle, you understand my meaning, but hearing from the source –"

"I'm afraid I won't have the time." If her breath actually held the temperature Petunia could hear in her tone her tea would turn to ice in front of her.

"Surely a few hours –"

Petunia stood with a clatter, the breakfast spread in front of her untouched. For a second she thought about grabbing a dry toast just to eat something before dismissing the thought, as it would be too obvious to this clown that she was fleeing.

And she wasn't running from him – she was simply unwilling to entertain his ridiculous babbling any longer.

"Good day."

Leaving him with that curt goodbye Petunia made her way back through the tables slowly filling with students, firmly keeping her eyes on the wide double doors at the other end of the hall, ignoring snippets of conversations fluttering around her head like twittering, annoying birds.

"Who's she?"

"Didn't you hear –"

"She flew –"

"Without a broom, I saw it myself –"

"Oh bollocks, you're talking out of your ass –"

"Isn't she the one who was with Hagrid and all the firsties?"

"Why is she at the teacher's table? Dumbledore already introduced our new dark arts teacher and it certainly wasn't this beanstalk!"

"I think I heard someone call her Evans?"

"You're getting more ridiculous by the second –"

Petunia was so focused on her escape – and secondarily on keeping her face impassive, as if her ears were blocked and protected – that Petunia almost missed the significance of the flare of red entering her vision, curls like living fire spilling over black robes.