Story of a Muggle
Petunia Dursley. That's all I am to most. The gossipy, scrawny necked, boring old sod.
But to my sister Lily, before she was a witch, I was a saint. A role model. But Lily could never be like me.
She was beautiful, shy, dreamy, quiet, everything I was not. And in addition to all her qualities, she was a witch. Magical.
Oh, it was agony, to see her talking about her friends. A magical camera took a picture of all her Gryffindor year. Then I fell in love with Sirius Black and James Potter.
Helen Prewett and Betsy McKinnon were pointed out in her picture. Both were trying to signal something to her, which I never understood. But I didn't care. I was in love with those two boys, and always would be, I thought. But then it happened.
One morning, Elfie, Lily's owl, dropped three letters into her lap. She began to read the first one.
"It's from Remus," she said suddenly.
"What about?" I asked, interested.
"Oh, it's mainly about James and Sirius, and they've, er, blown up Sirius's bike. They're thinking about enchanting the old motorbike to fly, but Remus says James is pretending to be shocked, and it's likely to be quite a long time before it's charmed, because Helen keeps going round, and James has to throw up, or run away. Sirius, of course, is -- "
She began to laugh.
"Can I go round with you after breakfast?" I asked eagerly.
"Sure, but you'll have to hold on tight. Broom travel is fast."
"I'd love to try it," I told her.
"We're practising Quidditch. You can watch with Remus, Betsy, and Helen, or read, or something."
"I don't mind," I said.
A few minutes later, I landed with Lily. James came out and grinned at me.
"Hello."
"Hello."
"Practising, Lily? Do you want to read, or shall you watch?" he asked me.
"I'll watch, thanks."
It was a few minutes later that I began to hate Sirius Black. He seemed to be everywhere, swooping in front of me, and finally his hand hit my nose as he caught a ball Remus had thrown.
"Sorry," he said.
Then he was up in the air again, swooping and diving, clearly having the time of his life.
How I hated him.
Years later, it was mainly the same. Lily came home for our parents' funeral, with Helen and Betsy. James comforted her then, I remembered it. It tore at my heart, seeing them together.
Lily came home for her last summer as a Muggle. She was bright-eyed, and smiled at me delightedly.
"Petunia, you'll never guess! I'm going to marry James!"
My heart was broken, and I wept for two minutes before telling Lily I was happy for her. I told her my tears were because she was leaving us, but I think she knew I was lying.
I refused an invitation to the wedding. I didn't want to see James tie himself to someone else. And I hated Sirius Black more than words can say, once for merely catching something in front of my face, but mainly because I hated him being a wizard. James was different. I also refused to go to the christening, to see the child who was part of the people I both loved and hated.
But when Harry awoke on my doorstep, I swore he'd never be a wizard. Not to be a wizard that would be the man I loved beyond life, and the girl I once loved, and now hate from the bottom of my heart.
It hurt that he even looked like James. It seemed like sacrilege to resemble him. It was even more desecrating that he should have Lily's eyes. Not a James with Lily's eyes. Never. I couldn't stand that. Maybe I should kill him.
But he looked so like James, it would drive me mad, murdering my only love's son. It seemed like he was James, sometimes. It would drive me insane, thinking that I'd killed my true love again.
I couldn't kill Harry. The Lily part of him reminded me of James, how she loved him, how he died for her.
I, Petunia Dursley, nee Evans write in ink, which could never express my adoration:
Petunia loves James Potter, forever.