The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

[Season Nine] Game Day: Round Five / Keeper - Cruelty

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)

Archaeology: What A Find!

Task #6: Olduvai Gorge - Write about a 'rift' between two people/families.

Word Count: 1,075

"Your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, but she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, and perhaps most especially when that person couldn't see it in themselves."

Remus Lupin to Harry Potter; HP & the Prisoner of Azkaban

Lily's ghost haunted her.

In the wind that blew through the trees, in the sound of screws squeaking against swings, in the click-clacking of teacup against china, and in all ordinary ways of life. She was there, for every second of Petunia's life, and every time the door to the cupboard under the stairs slammed shut, the lock sliding closed with a harsh clack, she could feel her sister's accusing glare, like two frigid chips of emerald spearing her very heart.

"Are you alright, Pet?" Vernon would ask.

No, she wasn't alright. She hadn't been for quite some time.

As a child, Petunia Evans had loved her sister dearly. They were closer than some twins were, did everything together, and were - as a rule - inseparable. Lily learned how to braid her hair, tie her shoelaces, and correctly spell the word "hippopotamus" under her older sister's gentle care; there was an almost hero worship there.

But that all changed. It all changed when that boy from Spinners End entered their lives. He turned sweet Lily sour, altered her way of thinking, made her believe that just because she could float off high swings and make flowers bloom, she was an almost godlike entity. And her sister, who had loved spending the afternoon baking cookies and cakes with Petunia, suddenly didn't want to do those things anymore. She didn't cook and bake because she was special, because that kind of work was for muggles like her sister, because wizards had servants who did those things for them. Lily was never the same after him.

And then she went to that school, the one where they taught her magic, where Petunia desperately wanted to go, because how could she protect her sister if they weren't even in the same country?

The headmaster let her down, and it stung, but what truly burned was Lily's reaction of laughter. How could Petunia have thought that they would let her into a school for magic when she had none? Her little sister was absolutely wretched about it, Petunia wanted to believe that was the Snape boy's fault too since it had been his bright idea to sneak into her room. How could he have thought that was okay? But then, how could Lily have agreed with the little pervert in the first place?

It was all very baffling, but it was even worse when Petunia realized she had slowly stopped being shocked by the extent her sister would go to in order to impress her new friend. That trend would only continue for the next couple of years, as Lily returned from school, red hair longer, green eyes brighter, and attitude more and more superior.

Then, the summer after her fifth year, she returned home with her back slumped, the sparkle in her eyes dull, her self-righteous attitude replaced by a well of sadness and repressed anger.

The sisters had long since stopped being close, and Petunia had given up on any hope of rekindling their relationship, but she hadn't thought that they were quite that bad. She hadn't thought so until she'd asked what was wrong, and Lily had burst.

"Oh, how could you understand, Petunia!? It isn't like you have any friends! None that actually care about you, anyway!"

And oh, how the following rant had been nasty. It still scratched at her very soul when she thought of it, every time she looked Lily's son in the eyes, saw the same glint of intrigue in the back, and knew he had the potential to be just as bad as her, if not worse.

Still, after bringing up every single feeling of inadequacy Petunia had in her... their parents took her side.

"Lily just lost a friend, Petunia."

"Have some compassion, Petunia."

"Would it kill you to be understanding, Petunia?"

No, she understood. In fact, she understood perfectly, how she would always be their second choice when it came to perfect, pretty Lily.

No matter how much she tried to convince her parents that their younger daughter had become cruel, they never listened to her. Of course, they thought Petunia was just jealous of Lily's extraordinary powers, and they were so proud to have a witch in the family, they never considered what their pride would do to her.

So, now, when she slammed the cupboard door in little Harry Potter's face, she allowed herself to have a moment of satisfaction. Every harsh word, every sound smack was telling of the years of resentment she had built up toward his mother, and though her rational mind knew she shouldn't blame the child for the sins of the parent, she couldn't resist.

Petunia was many things; horrid was one of them.

If this were a regular situation, she would've thrown everything onto her sister's back, but Lily was dead, and Harry was all that was left of her. Every time she made him cook breakfast, do the laundry, and weed the garden, she thought of each time his mother escaped the same chores, foisting them on to her older sister because she wanted to "practice magic." She thought of how, at Lily's funeral, her remaining friends spoke of her kindness, her endless capability for generosity, and she burned because Lily hadn't been that way.

Lily had been jaded, and cruel, and a menace, and now that she was dead, only Petunia would see her that way. Only Petunia would see her that way, because she had gone and martyred herself in a war that most of the world didn't even know existed. Because, yes, even in death, Lily had to be pretty, and perfect, and everything Petunia couldn't be.