Written for the Quidditch League (Season 9, Round 1) as the Falcons' captain.
Prompt: (song) Part Of Your World - The Little Mermaid
Word count: 1351
Note: AU towards the end. This season, I seem to be writing canon with a different ending, so just giving a heads up!
o
(don't wish to be) Worlds Apart
Dear Headmaster,
I am Petunia, sister of Lily E. Evans, who is a student at Hogwarts. My sister got her Hogwarts letter a few months ago and is on her way to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters as I write this letter. They told me I'm not magical.
My little sister and I have been together our whole lives. I cannot imagine suddenly having her an entire world apart. Isn't it possible that I get to have magic and come to Hogwarts, too? I will do anything, anything at all, to be a witch. Please help me!
Yours sincerely,
Petunia Evans
o
"I'm not coming," I hear myself say, even though I really want to see that magic pillar my sister is supposed to run into. What is the point, when I cannot even cross over to the other side?
My mother lets out a long sigh and presses her lips together. I know what she's forcing herself not to say, for she has said it enough times already. Why can't you simply be happy for your sister, Petunia?
But that's the thing, isn't it?
What girl hasn't imagined having secret superpowers or being magical? We used to giggle together whilst watching Cinderella—we begged and begged and went to see it four times when we visited the States a couple of years ago. Then, we would act it around the house every evening. I would always get to play Cinderella, having Lily put my blonde hair up in a bun like hers and tie a blue ribbon around my head.
Lily would end up being the fairy godmother.
All those times when she'd hold a twig and go "Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo"—that had been a stupid children's game, but now it has turned real.
She's standing right here, in front of me. I know she's holding back tears—I've always been able to tell, she's my little sister, after all. I've always hugged her, in times like these, and let her cry on my shoulder.
This time, I find myself turning around, my feet moving on their own accord. The door slams behind me, a split second before I realise how hard I've pushed it.
I want to scream, or curl up right here on the floor and cry, or I want Lily to rush in and hug me and tell me to come with her. Or that it was all an elaborate prank and nothing was real and there's no magic.
I don't even care which is it. I just want my sister with me, instead of living in a whole different world. Well, that is a lie. I would rather both of us have magic.
The family photographs hanging in the hallway seem too large, too out of place right now. There we are, the four of us, looking perfectly content like we couldn't want for anything more. I let my feet lead me further in the house.
There's the colour telly—our prized possession. The telephone is in the corner, it rings at 12noon every Sunday when grandma calls to check on us girls, and every now and then in the evenings, when someone from Dad's work needs to speak to him. There's a turntable in the other room, as well as a lava lamp that Lily and I have never really liked.
I walk up the stairs and into the room my sister and I share—well, used to share. Lily's bed is a mess, that girl can't keep anything straight without my help, yet I find myself moving stuff around and flopping on it instead of sitting on my perfectly made bed.
Right in front of me sits our Barbie collection. Twenty-three in all—for a long time, these dolls were all the two of us wanted on Christmases and birthdays. We haven't played with them in quite a while, but sometimes we'd sit here on Lily's bed and look at them, trying to make up stories about each one.
On the other side of the room, our closet is wide open, and Lily's half of it is nearly empty. My pretty dresses look lonely hanging in there, and I feel a ball of anger filling me up, threatening to burst.
Had I had magic like Lily, I imagine the clothes would've pulled themselves out and, I don't know, swirled around me in a tornado? She did something like that once, but with utensils, and nearly took my eye out with a fork. That had been before we knew magic was a thing, and it was another one of the incidents labelled as peculiar, never brought up again until the witch-professor came and told us Lily had magic.
I used to think we had all that we wanted until we met that stupid boy in his ratty, too-small clothes, dirt on his face and grime in his hair. We had everything, and he had nothing, or so I thought.
Then he passed off his powers to Lily. I know it was him, despite Professor-whatsit saying there're so many more people like Lily who happen to be magical despite being born in normal families. He liked her, and he had always hated me, so he invited her to his world and left me out. I've called them freaks, I've told them over and over that they're abnormal and how happy I am to not be as freakish as them. I've told them I'm glad to not have magic.
It's not entirely false. I always thought we had the entire world at our disposal, and we were happy as we were. Now, though, seeing what they can do, and having visited Diagon Alley—I want to be magical, too.
I know they've said I'm not, and that it's impossible for me to follow Lily into the magical world, but my parents have always taught me that the universe is extremely giving. All we need to do is ask.
I move to sit at my desk and grab a blank sheet of paper. I uncap a pen and start writing.
o
Dear Miss P. Evans,
I am delighted to hear from you. So few are wise enough to understand the superiority of the wizards and witches at such a young age, and even a smaller number seek power instead of simply bowing down to inferiority.
It is impossible for an adult Muggle to gain magic, but at a young age such as your own, it is not beyond the realm of possibility. It is dangerous, very much so, and extremely difficult, but I am certain a person as smart as you will manage to do so. Indeed, I was extremely surprised and impressed that a Muggle girl had been able to find a way to send an owl to me.
What I say now must remain a secret, and no other eyes except yours will be able to read this letter. Further, should you choose to not do what is required, I shall find you in a fortnight and remove the memory of this from your mind.
Now, the only way to gain magic if you are not born with it is to force an exchange of souls with a magical child close to your own age. Slowly, the magic removes itself from their body and moves into your own. The ritual is extremely dangerous, I must repeat, and it is rare for the one who loses his or her magic to survive, but as it is a gradual process, no one should be able to suspect you for your chosen donor's untimely demise.
I am certain you wouldn't want to steal your sister's magic, given your letter, but I believe you might have just the person in mind. If you are sure you are willing to go through with this, write back to me with this owl, and I will set up the ritual over the Yule break in December.
Your new magic could simply be a Christmas miracle.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Yours sincerely,
Gellert Grindelwald
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock)