Sisters
By Heir of Darkness
There had been a time, when any teacher who had taught at ------------ Primary School long enough would remember the Evans sisters. Who could have forgotten them ? Some little sad looking old lady would brighten up in a slow smile when you spoke their names, the wrinkles at each side of her eyes digging themselves even more into her aged skin, her crumpled body shaking with feeble giggles, when she remembered. Ah, Petunia and Lily Evans, the very image of friendly sistership.
If you asked some of the middle aged person whose children went to that school, they will smile that smile your parents sometimes have on their face that meant "Those were the days …", and be able at once to tell you a little funny anecdote about the couple. They really were the cutest sisters in the village, you know. Almost never fighting, unlike others. There they would shot a disapproving look at their children, if they were with them, and the latter would lower the eyes in a well-known pout. When one of them was crying, the other cried too, just by sympathy. When one of them was happy, the other laughed too, glad because her sister was glad. Wherever they went together, it was like a ray of sunshine passing. Whenever they were apart, it was like they were lost, alone in the world, until they were put back together again. And it was like that ever since Lily had been born.
Physically, and mentally too, they were exact opposites of each other. Petunia, tall, unbelievably thin, with very prominent cheek-bones, and a long rather crooked nose, and Lily, shorter, slightly plumper, and with a radiating complexion. Petunia, the pessimist, the sarcastic, the harsh, and Lily, the always smiling, stubborn, optimistic and friendliest girl in the school. Lily, always eager to discover new different things, daring, impulsive, and Petunia, sticking to the habits of the everyday life, having to be careful for two. And yet, they were the best sisters anyone had ever seen, never letting go of each other willingly. As one might have said, they completed each other.
Where Petunia went, Lily went. Where Lily went, Petunia went. Highly protective of each other, and they liked it that way. It was like their hands were glued to each others', and where one of them was seen you would be sure to see the other one. Their parents were not at home often, the poor children, and they sought all the love, comfort and caring children needed in each other. Petunia had other friends, but whenever they could they would be found in each other's company, for Lily, despite of her friendly personality and her kind features, had very little friends, because strange things kept happening around her. But Petunia pretended she didn't know, for when Lily was near her, nothing ever happened.
And one day, it all ended, in such a fashion that nobody knew what had happened.
The children could remember, the last time they were seen together, the last day of school at the end of the 4th grade. Petunia had been invited over to her friend Marge's grand-mother, in Wales. Lily was to stay home alone with her parents. It was the first time they'd be apart, and were literally crying their eyes out on each other's shoulder, not wanting to let go, just before Petunia was to climb on the Dursleys' car. They wouldn't be seeing each other for two months, and it seemed like an eternity to them. Finally Petunia gently pushed Lily away, sobbing, promising her to come back with armfuls of presents for her at the beginning of term. Lily said nothing, she was crying too hard. Or maybe she knew ?
Well, at the beginning of the next school year, nearly all of their friends graduating into the same high-school, and when Lily didn't show up along with Petunia, the latter was overwhelmed by questions, which all the answers she gave to were grunts. Suddenly, in the space of two months, all the praises in her mouth about Lily were replaced by the worst of insults, the little bit of happiness she had in her that came from her sister extinguished, and all that was left was bad-mood, sulking, shouting at everyone that dared ask her questions about her sister, acting as if she hated the whole world. Well, perhaps she did at that time.
How did Lily dare ?
As the years passed, the situation didn't get better. Petunia made it so everyone who asked about Lily was driven away. And then, slowly, everybody forgot about the story of Petunia and Lily, two sisters that literally adored each other. And fastest of all, Petunia herself, for in her heart remained for her sister only hatred.
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Twenty-five years later, Petunia Dursley was in her attic, carefully sweeping the last remaining of dust on the uneven wooden floor, now and then bending down to pick up some things that weren't in their place. Straightening up, she looked out from the window, which view led directly onto an old cherry tree, which had been there in the garden fore as long as the woman could remember. It was now in full-bloom, but the delicate white petals were roughly carried away by a strangely strong wind. There also was an old piece of rope hanging down from one of the branches.
She remembered, Dudley had broken the swing that originally was there when he was eight years old, by sitting on it. One has to say that at the age of eight, Dudley could already have been heavier than a full grown-bear. Even as blinded by her love as she was, Petunia could say it. She sighed, for that swing had been a part of her childhood too. She used to sit on it alone when she needed to think about things undisturbed.
Lowering her head, something caught her eye. It was a flashy white against the dark brown floor, but when she picked it up it looked more like a little yellow by the edge. Odd, a blank sheet of paper. Absently, out of habit, she turned it over, and nearly fainted dead out on the ground. She chocked, and stumbled backwards, collapsing into an old chair, broom still in hand. A single sob shook her shoulders, as a cascade of tears strained her face.
The picture showed two little girls, sitting on a rudimental swing under a cherry-tree in full blossom, hugging each other and grinning happily. Two sisters.
Putting on a determined mask on a face of doubt, she got up, clutching the piece of photograph in her hand, walking jerkily towards the window, hardly keeping herself straight up, and resting on the wall as if too tired to continue, she struggled to open the window. A window she now remembered having last opened long ago, to play a certain prank with a certain person … She felt the brush of the harsh blow across her face, and held out the picture, frozen in position for a second, then letting go. She watched the tiny piece of paper flying away with the wind, along with the memories.
The photograph traveled for a long time, flew like it had wings, towards a place the wind gently carried it to. Sometimes later, it began slowly sinking to the ground, circling around its aim, as if searching, and silently landed, picture face up, on the surface of a grave.
And on the cold stone, under the shadow of an old majestic oak, were written, half-unreadable, those simple words.