An Aunts Thoughts

Petunia had never sat down with the boy and tried to explain why she hated magic. It always seemed self explanatory to her. Ever since that first blasted bird interrupted her families breakfast, all those years ago.

Magic was a weakness, it made you depend on something as ephemeral as a memory. It was fairy gold, and magic lamps.

It'd all disappear in the morning, and you'd be left with nothing, but broken hopes. Real life doesn't give you a second chance and wishing can't solve everything, otherwise her parents would be alive and her nephew wouldn't be an orphan.