QUIDDITCH LEAGUE FANFICTION COMPETITION: ROUND 5 ENTRY FOR CHASER 2 OF CHUDLEY CANNONS
TASK:
(Mirror Dimension) Write about a story where good is evil and evil is good, or you could write about reverse characterizations. Think polar opposite from canon.
PROMPTS:
7. (Dialouge) "Don't look at me, I didn't do it."
11. (weather) cloudy
15. (color) black
Word Count (Microsoft Word): 1585
TRIGGER WARNINGS! IMPLIED RAPE AND OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE!
Petunia Evans, of Number Seven-C, Tapestry Apartments, was proud to say that she was quite extraordinary, thank you very much. She was a witch, and she had an excellent job at the Daily Prophet as an up-and-coming journalist's assistant. Petunia was a thin, willowy woman with a long neck and very straight blonde hair.
When Petunia Evans woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside that suggested anything odd or life-changing would happen. It was a completely normal November First, and as Petunia shuffled around her flat's small kitchen, she hummed along with the Wizarding Wireless Radio, which was playing a Celestina Warbeck song.
It was half-past twelve when the doorbell rang, and though Petunia was not expecting anyone over, she rose from her meticulously organized desk to answer the door. Petunia lived in a Muggle-Friendly building, something the Minister of Magic, Tom Riddle, and recently and successfully integrated into the world. The visitor who had rung Petunia's doorbell, however, was something of a shock.
"Are you Ms. Petunia Evans?" The handsome bobby on her stoop asked, tucking his helmet under his arm.
"I am," Petunia said, frowning and pulling her cardigan together.
"Earlier this morning, your sister Lily Evans was in a car accident," he announced, glancing over to the stairs where another man in dark robes had ascended with a small toddler. "And though the paramedics did everything they could, she could not be resuscitated and died."
Petunia had not spoken to Lily in years, not since the Graduation Incident and some brief, tense words at their parents funeral. The last she had heard of her younger sister, Lily had been interning with the costume department for the London Ballet, and she had wanted nothing to do with her freak of a sister.
"Lily Evans' will states that her son, Harry Potter, was to be put into the individual care of Petunia Evans," The man carrying the toddler said, glancing at the boy in question. "That would be you."
"Yes," The witch replied dazedly. "Yes, I'm Petunia Evans."
Somehow, Petunia found herself seated on the sofa with her nephew on her knee. She was not entirely sure how she had gotten there, but little Harry Potter was there, in her flat, staring up at her with his mother's green eyes and his father's proud nose. He cooed quietly at her, and when she brushed his thick black hair off his forehead in a soothing gesture, her fingers lingered over the lightning bolt scar there. It had been healed recently, with magic, but the poor little fellow still winced when she touched it.
Water filled Petunia's pale eyes, and she gathered the only remaining family she had in her arms and cried.
"All stand for Minister Riddle."
Petunia heaved herself to her feet, carefully balancing Harry on her hip as the Minister entered the room. The sea of dark purple robes contrasted nicely with the Minister's black hair and pale skin. He nodded to the Wizengamot after he had taken his seat. The loud rustle of robes nearly woke Harry as everyone retook their seats.
"Observing the case of Evans versus Potter," Minister Riddle announced for the room to hear. "Custody hearing of November Twenty-Second, regarding the guardianship of Harry Daniel Potter, son of Muggle Lily Jane Evans, who passed October Thirty-First. This case was brought before the Wizengamot because it involves the heir to a Noble Wizarding House; we do not normally deal with custody cases. Judges for this hearing are as follows: Thomas Marvolo Riddle, Minster of Magic; Barty Crouch Junior, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Fenrir Greyback, Werewolf Alpha and Head of the Department of Child Services. Court Scribe, Alecto Carrow. We may begin; Mister Potter, if you will."
The following hour and a half were the worst of Petunia Evans' life; James Potter's lawyer, Peter Pettigrew, was a very good friend of his and very sly. The witch had heard him called Wormtail by his little group of friends, and she had wondered if it was because of the stupid little rattail at the nape of his neck or his pinched and narrow face. James Potter looked the picture of perfect wizard lord; hair slicked back, not a wrinkle in his pressed wine robes, suavely draped in his chair.
She thought to herself that she must look a mess in comparison; her blonde hair done in a quick beauty spell, make-up precisely applied, robes from the latest Bellatrix Black collection. There were wrinkles where Harry had fisted his chubby little fists in the black material, a drool mark on her shoulder, she was sure that her hair was starting to frizz, and how could nobody see the tower of concealer beneath her eyes. She fidgeted in her seat as Potter's admirers and friends gave glowing reviews of his character; her appointed lawyer, brilliant Regulus Black, placed a hand on her knee to stop her shifting.
Petunia had swiftly realized that she had very little hope in winning this case; she was not wealthy, did not have many friends, and the people who knew her personally – not the Petunia she showed her work friends – they were all gone.
The witch came out of her daze when Regulus announced, "I would like to bring to your attention this anonymously donated memory," and motioned to the silver Pensive-screen on the wall. One of the court attendants scurried to the attached Pensive and dropped the memory strand into the water. The screen rippled and turned black.
James Potter appeared on the screen, lounging in a pair of dark blue boxers on a bed draped in crimson. A freshly showered Sirius Black, now a recently imprisoned Azkaban inmate, appeared beside Potter.
"Did you do it then?" Black asked, leaning on his friend's bedpost. James Potter slowly smirked, and then he pulled an empty vial from beneath his pillow. He wiggled his eyebrows, and the boys laughed loudly. The edge of a notebook appeared in the bottom of the memory, the date printed clearly in the top right corner of whatever the memory-donor's assignment was.
"Slipped it to her during dinner. Nobody noticed." James replied quickly, tossing the vial onto his bedside table.
"Little Muggle tart is just playing hard to get." Black nodded, stretching his arms over his head and flopping back onto his bed. "She doesn't really mean no, you know?"
"Of course."
The court watched in horror as the two boys bantered back and forth over what Petunia realized was her sister; the vulgar description of what James would do with Lily's fiery hair, caused the witch to bite back a sob. Potter grew pale in his seat as the pair on the screen left the room to find Pettigrew.
A pair of plaid pajama bottoms and grey fuzzy socks entered the view of the memory-donor, and he kept his eyes on the floor of the Gryffindor dorm as he crossed to James Potter's bedside table. The vial was still there, carelessly tossed against the lamp. Long trembling fingers rolled the bottle over, exposing the black label and silver writing. 'Word-Release Amortenia' it read, 'Get your girl with a single word.'
Petunia choked back a cry of disgust; everyone knew what Amortenia was, and Word-Release Amortenia had been invented by Alphard Black, just a month before she graduated. This was the precursor for the Graduation Incident. James Potter had roofied her sister.
The Pensive-screen faded to black again and then rippled back to its natural silver state. The Minister stood from his chair and scowled at James Potter, who was looking at Peter with a look of absolute betrayal.
"Don't look at me, I didn't do it." Pettigrew hissed. "I wasn't even in the room!"
"LUPIN!" Potter bellowed, slamming his hands on the table in front of him. "THAT FILTHY MONSTER-"
"Beg your pardon?" Fenrir snarled. He rose menacingly from his chair next to the Minister, his golden eyes glowing with anger.
Petunia ducked her head over Harry's and whispered to him soothingly at the noise that erupted from the magical populous in the room. The poor little man whimpered into her shoulder, and all Petunia wanted to do was go home and cuddle her nephew.
"SILENCE!" The Minister bellowed into the room. "This custody hearing is over. Petunia Evans, I happily grant you full custody of your nephew, and you may return home. Aurors, arrest Mister Potter; he can join his friend Sirius Black in Azkaban!"
Petunia Evans, of Number Seven-C, Tapestry Apartments, was proud to say that she was quite extraordinary, thank you very much. She was a witch, she was the Minister's personal assistant, and she was the mother of the most wonderful son.
A son who had come so unexpectedly into her life, and who had filled her days with laughter and love. A son who knew that she was only his aunt, but called her mum. A son who she watched, with tears in her eyes, as he boarded the train with his best friend, Draco, for the first time, his black robes fluttering around his ankles and his hair sticking up at the front no matter how much she'd pushed it down this morning.
A son who stopped on the last step of the train and turned to her with a big grin.
"I love you!" He called to her as the scarlet train began to move. "See you at Christmas, Mum!"
All was well.