A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts and the QLFC. Prompts are below.
Note: Every superstition was found online. So... sorry if they're incorrect.
Word Count: 2348
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.
Beauty Therapy Task 2: Write about trying to blend in
Chaser 2: Write about someone superstitious
Optional Prompts:
(song) Demons by Imagine Dragons
(color) lapis lazuli
(object) snow
Enjoy!
The snow is falling all around her, but none of the flakes seem to touch her. Each and every one misses her, but she still shivers in the frigid air. Petunia looked up at the sky, her hair whipping about her face. It was a deep lapis lazuli that it should not be, and it immediately puts her on edge.
There are so many things about this place that she wants to fix. The color of the sky, her free-flying hair, her bare feet that are leaving deep prints in the snow. But she is not in control of any of these things, just like she is not sure where she is walking, or why. She does not want to find out where her feet are taking her. But she is unable to turn back.
Suddenly, there are dark trees surrounding her, their sinister limbs reaching towards the very wrong sky. That is another thing wrong, she realizes—there are no clouds, but the snow is still falling. She is not surprised by the forest's appearance; it feels as though the trees have been there the whole time. She doesn't spare them a second glance, which is most unlike her.
It could be only moments, it could be more than hours, until she reaches a frozen lake. She hates it immediately. Still, she approaches and peers into the mirror-like ice. Her reflection is there, as expected. But then it is warping, changing. She sees her front door, and everything looks as it should, until she notices the bundle on the doorstep.
She kneels in the snow to get a better look, dampness bleeding through her thin floral nightgown. It is a child, she realizes. Features are hard to make out, but the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead is unmistakable.
In the distance, a single crow caws. Petunia stiffens. She knows the rules—this means death is coming.
Petunia shoots up in bed, her chest heaving as she breathes heavily. Her blonde hair falls to her shoulders in tangles, and her pale fingers shake as she tries to unknot the strands. She hates these dreams. She sees the threat of death everywhere, and she doesn't know which signs to believe. If Lily could be a witch, any omen could come true.
Petunia climbs out of bed, careful not to disturb Vernon, who is sleeping beside her, and pulls on her fuchsia dressing gown. She checks the clock, and her lips thin. Three o'clock—the witching hour. No wonder her dreams were so disturbing.
She goes down to the kitchen and makes herself a cup of tea, trying to banish the ill feelings that are left over from her nightmare. She eventually wanders back to her bed, sliding under the sheets and letting her head drop against the pillow. It's just a dream, she tells herself. Nothing more than that.
She doesn't believe it though, not really.
Hours later, when she is up again, she opens the front door to put out the milk bottles and sees a bundle of blankets. Heart hammering, she drops to her knees to get a closer look.
She sees the lightning bolt scar and screams.
"You've got every right to be mad," Vernon assures her after she's finally managed to get the two—two!—boys to bed. "Just because those two got themselves—blown up, doesn't mean they had to stick you with the brat."
Petunia presses her lips together. She thinks back to the letter that was tucked between the blankets around her sleeping nephew. She is his only chance. But she can't shake the feeling that her dream was a warning about him—of death, or something equally as horrible. What she doesn't know is if the death has already occurred—Lily and James Potter are both dead.
Petunia has no idea whether keeping the boy is a good choice, but there is a part of her that knows, had their roles been switched, that Lily would have taken her child in. So she convinced Vernon to go through with the adoption, and now she must follow this through to the end.
For Lily, she will do this. She will keep this part of her sister alive. Petunia turns back to Vernon. "This won't be easy," she warns him. "You know what… he might be."
Vernon takes her thin hand in his large one. "We can do it. You're a good woman, Petunia, dear."
She smiles, but she doesn't respond. She has never told Vernon of her dreams or the… less than conventional rules she follows, and she isn't sure how he would take it. She's afraid that it's too freakish for him. She isn't sure herself why she feels this way—perhaps she just doesn't know what is fact and what is fiction in the magical world, so she believes it all—but she knows that the majority of people are unconcerned by knocks that come in threes and dogs howling by their door. And, to both Vernon and Petunia, blending in with society is a very important thing.
Harry is four years old when it happens the first time.
Petunia is in the kitchen when she hears the glass shattering. She abandons the washing and rushes into the sitting room, where one of the large mirrors hanging on the wall can now be seen with an empty frame. Standing several feet away with a look of shock on his face is Harry, and all Petunia can think is seven years bad luck.
Harry's green eyes are wide, and he is looking at her fearfully. His mouth opens and closes, and she is scared, so she snaps at him. "Stop flapping your gums and get on with it!"
He flinches. "I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia," he whispers. "I didn't mean to."
She clenches her jaw, trying to stop trembling. She knows what this is—she remembers Lily doing the same. It isn't his fault, not really, but on some level he knows that he did it. He is aware that he is to blame.
She needs him clueless of the damage he can do.
"Go get your uncle," she says stiffly. "I need to speak with him."
Harry runs out of the room, and Petunia takes the opportunity to pick up the shards of glass littering the floor. She hisses when one cuts into the pad of her index finger, and she watches the dark red blood blossoming up from the wound. She takes a shuddering breath in and prays that this is not the beginning of the broken mirror curse.
Vernon comes in from playing football with Dudley in the garden, frowning at his wife and casting furious glances at his cowering nephew. He hangs up the smart hat he's wearing—Dudley met him outside as soon as he climbed out of his car—and comes over to her.
She stands up and murmurs in his ear. That night, Harry's things are moved to the cupboard under the stairs. Petunia hopes that this is enough to satisfy the curse—she doesn't want her family caught up in his bad luck. She tells Vernon it is discourage his magical behavior, though.
Petunia is the quiet commander in the house, and Vernon knows it. He recognizes her hesitation here, but he doesn't question her, for which she is grateful. She does not view herself as his superior, but they both know that he couldn't run the household without her. If he knew the true reason behind their nephew's harsh punishment, he might take Dudley, and then where would they be? Her boys need her, so she keeps her secrets.
When Harry is seven, Petunia almost blows it.
She is walking back from the park with Dudley and Harry, frazzled because she can sense a storm brewing. She is wrinkling her nose from all the dust they are kicking up, so much so that she nearly misses the way Harry's foot almost steps on a crack in the sidewalk.
Heart pounding, she grabs his arms and yanks him back, just in time. He yelps a little in pain, and Petunia bends down to hiss at him. "Don't step on the cracks—step over them, for goodness' sake!"
Harry blinks up at her in confusion. She is reminded of how mature he is for his age; she can see it in his eyes and manner. "Why do I have to step over the cracks, Aunt Petunia?"
There is a couple walking by that is snickering, and Petunia hastily stands up. "What are you going on about?"
Harry is confused. "You said—"
"I said no such thing! Now come quickly, it's going to rain."
She tugs the boys away, her heart pounding against her chest. She doesn't know the couple, but she fears the tales they might spread. She hopes she managed to cover her slip up well enough.
She isn't usually this careless. She is normally able to suppress her beliefs in public, but seeing the boy nearly step on the crack sent her into a panic. The rhyme went step on a crack, break your mother's back. His mother was dead—would that be passed on to her, as the mother figure? She doesn't want to find out.
"Aunt Petunia?" Harry asks softly, hesitantly. "I'm sorry I made you upset."
She ignores him. She doesn't have enough energy to respond. She wonders, sometimes, if people don't already know about her. Is the fear she always feels visible in her eyes? Do her hands tremble whenever there are three knocks on a door? She doesn't know.
When the three arrive home, Petunia shuts herself in her room, but is careful to keep an ear out for the boys. She sits down heavily on the bed and puts her head in her hands. She has put up with her sister's son for years, but everything about him seems determined to get under her skin. Her nightmares—always at three in the morning—get worse each week. The magic he isn't even aware of wielding breaks everything. He isn't even walking in a way that keeps them safe. She doesn't know how much more she can tolerate.
Petunia is just trying to keep everyone alive at this point. It's just like it was with Lily. Magic makes death so much more imminent. She hates it, but she can't give the boy up now; the repercussions are unimaginable.
Thunder shakes the house suddenly, and Petunia looks out the window to see rain pelting the window and wind crashing against the trees. She shivers; the weather is an uncanny reflection of her inner turmoil. She stares at the chaos for a bit longer before she spots headlights penetrating the darkness. A minute later, she hears the door open and she sighs, getting to her feet to greet the man she lies to so often.
Vernon is soaked—droplets fall from his mustache—but he pulls her in for a hug that she awkwardly returns. He thinks she is pulling back because of the wetness, but it's really because the truth is just beneath the surface.
She is back in the snowy forest, the one that she hasn't visited since Harry was left on her doorstep. Owls are hooting, but she can't see them. Petunia shivers.
The flakes still don't touch her, which unnerves her this time. She reaches out for one, but it is blown away from her. She draws her hand back, afraid.
She treks on, past the frozen lake. This is a relief; she doesn't want to see what the future may hold for her. The snow falls with more intensity than before, and Petunia quakes against the chill. She wishes Vernon was with her—it is always easier to be courageous when he is around.
It doesn't take her long to realize that this time, there is no destination. She is just moving, unable to stop or turn back. Now it is the lack of control, not the cold, that has her trembling.
As she walks, the storm around her grows. The sky—still devoid of clouds—grows a darker lapis lazuli with each step. Finally, she can no longer stand being alone and she screams.
"Vernon!"
There is no answer.
"Vernon, please! Vernon! Oh, please, please. Lil… Lily?"
Now, there is a whisper. Something soft, barely detectable.
"Lily?" she tries again. A sob escapes her. "Oh, Lily, Lily, help me…"
"Like you helped my son?"
The words were angry, but filled with sorrow. Ice creeps through Petunia's veins at the sound. Her breathing turns shallow. This is Lily's voice, but her sister is nowhere to be seen.
"I—I was protecting him," she protests weakly. "I was protecting everyone."
"You didn't save anyone but yourself."
The words sting, and Petunia stumbles. Her blue eyes look up to see a silhouette against the blinding white of the blizzard around her. The figure approaches, and Petunia knows the green eyes that gaze at her.
"Lily," she whispers.
"Petunia." Her voice is more tired than hostile now—Petunia can't decide whether or not that's a bad thing. "Petunia, you need to wake up. I can't help you—and I can't stop what's coming. You brought this upon yourself."
No. No, she couldn't have, because she has been so careful. "But—"
"Wake up," Lily whispers to her. "Wake up."
"I can't!" Petunia screams back. But Lily is gone.
Petunia gasps and sits up in bed, clammy and sick to her stomach. Vernon stirs beside her, and she freezes. His eyes open slowly.
"Are you all right, dear?"
Petunia thinks back to all the owls that have chased after them, the horrible nightmares that—she checks the clock—occur at three o'clock. She thinks of Harry's magic, strengthening despite her best efforts, and the lengths they have gone to in hopes of escaping the omens.
"I'm fine," she lies. Vernon doesn't suspect a thing, and pulls her closer to him. His snores fill the silence of the room they've rented. Petunia drifts back into an uneasy sleep.
The next night, the door to the hut is thrown from its hinges after three knocks. A giant enters their lives, and Petunia knows that her hell isn't over yet.
A/N:
Writing Club:
Assorted Appreciation: 1. Klaus Baudelaire — Write about an orphan
Disney Challenge: Characters 1. Mulan — Write about making a sacrifice for your family
Showtime: 12. "You've got every right to be mad."
Amber's Attic: Prompt 12. (plot point) adoption
Liza's Lyrics: 9. The Jackson 5 - Blame it on the Boogie — "I've changed my life completely."
Angel's Arcade: 11. The Arishock — (word) commander, (weather) harsh storm, (color) blood red
Bex's Basement: 12. "Stop flapping your gums and get on with it!"
Film Festival: 14. (action) an awkward hug
Seasonal Challenges:
Days of the Year: 17th April — Write about ignoring someone
Spring: 1. (word) blossoming
Earth: 5. (word) dust
Amanda's Challenge: Fandoms 6. A Series of Unfortunate Events — Write about an orphan
Hufflepuff Challenge: Traits 6. Tolerating
Fortnightly Challenge:
Space Mom: 9. Write about honoring a fallen loved one
Capcom Lives: 8. Amaterasu — (trait) mature, (action) falling asleep
Magic Kingdom: Main Street: The Chapeau — (object) hat
Gym: Madam Pomfrey: 1. Harry Potter
365 Words: 5. Superior
Insane House Challenge: 858. (relationship type) aunt & nephew