M udblooded freak
Freak.
That's what the magical world cost me. Petunia and her epithet. Freak, she called me. No longer Lily, Lils, little sister. Freak.
How is it that only with that word did I realize how often I had chosen you over her? How often I had defended a boy who was horrible to her and walked further and further away from being her little sister? From the moment you told me I was a witch, you cost me my sister. You struck out at her, and I didn't save her.
Before, it belonged to me and Tuney. It was a game; it was our secret; it was what I used to annoy her. Now it belongs to me and you and to her it's just my abnormality, not a secret or a mystery. She'll never defend me when I do something strange or cover for me, ever again. She'll shun me and my freakish ways.
For so long I tried to pretend that it was worth it – all of Hogwarts Castle and my friends and you and magic. Most of the time it was, if anything can ever be worth the cost of your sister.
But in the end, I couldn't help thinking that the only thing you really offered me in consolation for making me a freak to Petunia was an epithet of your own. That word was what I got for choosing you and for all that I gave up to do it.
That was my reward:
Mudblood.
