Look at this stuff
Isn't it neat?
Wouldn't you think my collection's complete?
Wouldn't you think I'm the girl
The girl who has everything?
Look at this trove
Treasures untold
How many wonders can one cavern hold?
Looking around here you think
Sure, she's got everything
I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty
I've got whozits and whatzits galore
You want thingamabobs?
I've got twenty!
But who cares?
No big deal
I want more
She had never wanted anything in her life before—her doting parents had seen to that. The evidence was before her eyes, surrounding her, stacked up on every surface of her half of the bedroom.
Dresses of every imaginable color were hanging in her wardrobe. Once, she had loved their silky texture, their sequins and beads, but no longer. The sparkle, the joy of having something new had faded away to a mere glimmer. Wrapped over her canopy bed were several scarves, all of them sheer and thin, the threads beginning to unravel. Upon her bedside table was a silver tiara Lily had made for her. She had been so happy when her sister had given her the crown. The fake jewels winked at her from their position, mocking her. She felt the sudden urge to break it apart in her hands. But she didn't.
Instead, she turned to her bookcase. There was Cinderella, her favorite fairytale, nestled amongst numerous other stories of princesses and enchantment. The magic of a forgotten shoe and a fairy godmother were nothing compared to real magic, though. She knew that now.
Her ballet shoes were in a desk drawer, pink and worn, the toes scuffed and marked by black smudges. She had once thought that dancing was the only way to fly, to experience soaring through the air, weightless. That idea had also been proven wrong.
She looked up at the sound of her new puppy growling playfully. She was adorable, and deserved all the attention her owner could give. But she wasn't getting it, not since the owl had arrived. Lily's bird was sitting on her bed post, eyeing the small dog with large black eyes. Its beak clacked suddenly, scaring both Petunia and the puppy.
Her mother had taken her to a fair that day, and she had seen a strong man, and gymnasts, and even a tiger that leapt through a ring of fire. She had drank root beer and eaten cotton candy, but the sugar wasn't sweet enough to satisfy her. She'd heard of other candies and drinks, ones far better than normal ones. Lily had told her of a candy that made smoke pour from your ears. She had stared at her cotton candy sadly and then cautiously taken a bite. Nothing happened. The cotton candy simply wasn't magical.
She had everything a young girl could have wanted, but she wasn't happy. It wasn't enough. Who cared if she had dresses and scarves and candy? All she had was a make believe fairytale while Lily had the real thing. She looked over to Lily's half of the room. It was empty, save for the owl and an envelope on the desk. That envelope was what made everything different. Her sister had been invited to Hogwarts, a school for real magic. Petunia felt, not for the first time, jealous of her sister. She wanted that letter for herself. Why wasn't she a witch?
Flippin' your fins, you don't get too far Up where they walk, up where they run
I wanna be where the people are
I wanna see, wanna see them dancin'
Walking around on those - what do you call 'em?
Oh - feet!
Legs are required for jumping, dancing
Strolling along down a - what's that word again?
Street
Up where they stay all day in the sun
Wanderin' free - wish I could be
Part of that world
Lily had met that boy—Severus. He was a wizard, and he was going to Hogwarts. That made two people on the same street. And yet she hadn't been invited. What was it that made them special? The Snape boy had told her sister stories, tales of magic and what went on at Hogwarts during the school year.
Petunia glanced at her dresses. She wanted to be rid of them, to have witch's robes hanging in their places. Their bright colors and silky textures could easily be replaced by black fabric. Her scarves on her bed were wearing thin. She could have had a school scarf in her house's colors, and no matter what house she was placed in, she would have been happy. But all she had were unraveling threads. The silver tiara was shining in the gloom, but she would have given anything to have a pointed hat instead.
Even Cinderella's promise of a beautiful palace and Prince Charming and a marvelous ball didn't excite her anymore. Why listen to a story when she could have a real castle and friends with magic, and classes every day where she could make anything happen?
The pink ballet shoes were nothing compared to a broom. She'd heard Lily and her new best friend discussing—what was it called?— Quidditch. They could really fly, and that was all it took for her to no longer see ballet as a chance to feel as if she were soaring through the air, like a swan. Quidditch was better. You could cut through the air, spin in dizzying circles, even soar through clouds on a broom. The ballet shoes had become just that—shoes.
Her puppy couldn't bring her mail. She couldn't deliver messages to her friends and family. An owl would be a beautiful companion, free and energetic, almost like a human, Lily had said. Petunia stared longingly at the owl across the room. If only it were hers.
The fair she had been to wasn't enough. She had seen a strong man, but Lily said there was a half-giant at Hogwarts, according to Severus. The gymnasts had leaped through the air and done flips, but what were they compared to seeing a woman transform into a cat before your very eyes? And the tigers bounding through the hoops of fire had nothing, absolutely nothing, on seeing a unicorn in real life.
She wanted to see students with smoke pouring out of their ears after eating a candy, and she wanted to taste Butterbeer instead of Root Beer. If she could even have one chance to go to Platform 9¾ and ride the Hogwarts Express, she would be the happiest girl in the world. She wanted to be a part of the Wizarding World so badly, but she couldn't. She hadn't received a letter. She was a—what was it called? A Muggle.
What would I give if I could live out of these waters? And ready to know what the people know When's it my turn?
What would I pay to spend a day warm on the sand?
Bet'cha on land they understand
That they don't reprimand their daughters
Proper women sick of swimmin'
Ready to stand
Ask 'em my questions and get some answers
What's a fire and why does it - what's the word?
Burn?
Wouldn't I love, love to explore that world up above?
Out of the sea
Wish I could be
Part of that world
She would give anything to join her sister and her strange friend on their trip to their new school. She had read her sister's letter, and had even sent her own to the Headmaster. Albus Dumbledore. He seemed like a great man, and a kind one. She had finally given up on wondering and had decided to be brave and ask whether the wizard could make an exception for her, just this once. She was awaiting an answer. She wanted to know everything. What was the difference between a charm and a hex?
She was suddenly hit in the head by an envelope. There it was—the Hogwarts seal. Was she going to be allowed to attend the school? With passion, she tore open the envelope, reading the thin loopy handwriting with eager eyes. She was, however, disappointed. The Headmaster had turned her down. Wiping away angry tears, she threw the letter away from herself. He had been very nice about it; in fact, it had been the kindest letter she had ever received. But that meant nothing. He had crushed her hopes, her dreams of being a witch like her sister, of finally being Lily's equal. She ran out of the room, sobbing.
And the letter remained where it had landed—on the flower box outside the open window. Two heads, one red and the other black, suddenly appeared outside, and two pairs of eyes, one green and the other black, stared at the letter. Two small hands reached for the parchment at the same time, curiosity aflame in their stares. Together, they read the letter.
The girl, Lily, felt pity. Her sister had wanted to be a witch more than anything ever since seeing Lily's invitation. But the boy, Severus, snickered. He didn't like his friend's sister. She was a funny girl—much too giggly for his taste. Lily stared off into space, and Severus laughed to himself, clutching the letter in his hand victoriously.
And Petunia Evans, her dreams dashed away in a moment's time, sobbed in a bush not far from the two magical children. Thought disappointed, she told herself that she should be happy she wasn't a witch. She was normal, and her sister was a freak. But she would never convince herself of that idea. The desire to have even a single drop of magic would remain with her entire life, and she knew it.