DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
~ The Ghost Beneath My Bones ~
"What if Dudley had magic?" Harry asked quietly.
"He doesn't," Petunia snapped.
The young wizard felt as though he had been yelled at, although in actuality her voice was no louder than his had been.
"But what if he had?" Harry persisted.
His aunt sighed. She should have known something was amiss when her fourteen-year-old nephew volunteered to help with the dishes after dinner tonight.
"I don't think this conversation is entirely appropriate..." she hedged, either unable or unwilling to consider what the consequences of that hypothetical scenario would have been.
"But just... what if?"
She took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm her nerves.
"Well," she said, glancing at Harry sidelong, "for one thing, Vernon would have thrown the three of us out on the street if Dudley had shown any signs of... " She hesitated to let that forbidden word cross her lips.
The young wizard, having no such compunction, put forth: "Magic."
Petunia cringed.
"Stop saying it."
"Why?" Harry demanded, whispering when he wanted to shout. "What have you got against magic? What do you think is so great about being normal?"
"Nothing," she hissed.
And with a single word, her nephew's anger deflated.
What's so great about being normal? Nothing, and therein lies the problem.
~end~
A/N: Reviews are always appreciated.