Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them.
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MUGGLE
Chapter Seven: Turning Point
Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.
William Dement
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Petunia woke from a dark dream, haunted by cloaked and hooded figures with glowing green eyes, her face bathed in a cold sweat. For a long, terrifying moment she struggled to remember how to breathe and when she finally caught her breath shot from the bed and into the lavatory.
When she came back, wiping her mouth, her roommate was awake and the small lamp between their beds was on. "What's the matter, Petunia?" asked Lucy softly. "Do you need the nurse? Every night this week you've woken up and been sick. You've got me quite worried."
Petunia had a crazy urge to laugh—quite worried! When she dreamed every night about what Voldemort did to his victims—when often, the dreams were still not as bad as the reality—when every day she gazed into the crystal ball and wrote down religiously every little detail she could recall about the vision, to have Professor Augur or John tell her later that they had managed to save a few people but many still died… 'quite worried' did not even begin to cover it.
But of course, Lucy knew none of this. To the Muggle world Voldemort didn't exist. They walked around each day completely secure in their little worlds, thinking they were safe from everything. They didn't have to worry about waking up and finding the Dark Mark above their house, glittering green in the night—they didn't have to worry about sifting through the rubble of blasted-apart houses to find scraps of bodies.
Petunia was breaking, and she knew it. There was only so long anyone could stand to think about things like this—and because she was the only Seer who could get even a glimpse of Voldemort's activities she was urged to try and See as much as she possibly could. They had even given her a curious little artifact called a Time-Turner so that she could hide in the gardens or in the attic or somewhere out of the way and spend hours looking into the crystal ball.
The Muggles didn't know Voldemort existed, didn't know what she was doing—and the wizards didn't either. Only a select few knew what Petunia was doing, so that her family could be kept safe. Lily knew nothing—she treated Petunia with the same aggravating superiority as always, never suspecting that her sister was on the front lines of the war; she herself knew little about except for what the professors at Hogwarts chose to relate to the students. Petunia was caught in between, a small part of both worlds and wholly part of neither.
"It's exams," said Petunia finally. "My mum keeps writing me letters telling me how good I need to do in order to get into university and all that, and I don't think I can do that well."
Even to her ears the excuse sounded lame.
Lucy simply looked at her for a long time. Petunia stood there, the taste of bile still on her tongue, and wanted to disappear. "Okay," said Lucy finally. "But Petunia, you know if you ever want to talk to me I'll listen, and I won't tell anyone if that's what you want."
"I can't," said Petunia, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
"Can't tell me?" said Lucy, looking bewildered.
Petunia closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Believe me, Luce, I would if I could. But it's trouble I can't talk about—not yet. I will when I can, I promise." She flopped back down on her bed and curled into a ball, a tear escaping the corner of her eye.
She felt rather than saw Lucy's weight settle on the bed next to her, and felt a hand run gently through her hair. "Whatever it is, it'll be okay," said Lucy softly.
Petunia didn't say anything, but she couldn't stop the tears from coming.
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"You're telling me you haven't Seen anything in days? We've got rumors of a major attack planned but we haven't any idea where!" railed Professor Augur. "How can you tell me that you don't have even a clue what's going to happen! People will die, Petunia!"
"I know that!" bellowed Petunia. Augur, unused to anything except but stammered passivity from her, was shocked into silence, ending his rant mid-sentence. "You think I don't know that? I can't figure out who's going to die this week, I can't see what he's planning, but you know what, if they die it's NOT MY FAULT! I'm not the one who kills them, I'm not a Death Eater, I'm not even a WIZARD! All I can do is try and if I can't see it, well, it's because the bloody future hasn't bloody well happened yet so STOP YOUR YELLING AT ME!"
He stared at her, clearly bemused. John unfolded himself from his chair and, with a slow bow, began to applaud. "Well-put, Miss Evans," he boomed, in his slow, deep voice. "It's about time you stood up for yourself."
Augur shook his head suddenly, like a dog shaking off droplets of water. "Yes," he said. "I'm sorry. You're right, of course."
"I really can't see anything," Petunia said, softer now. "And I'm sorry, but it's like something's blocking my vision. Like a curtain pulled across the window—just little snippets that I can hardly remember. Nothing that will do you any good, just a woman screaming and a man shouting. No faces, no scenery, nothing."
"At least we know something is in the works," murmured Augur, sinking down onto the sofa behind him and burying his face in his hands. Petunia cast a questioning look at John.
"He lost a very close friend in the Dorset raid last week," said the Scryer softly. "The attacks are getting more bold. It's not just terrorism anymore—it's a full-out rebellion."
"It could develop into war if we can't stop it," said Augur. "This has been going on for years now, and it's getting worse every day! People don't know what to do. No one knows what to trust any longer. Anyone could be a Death Eater, anyone."
Petunia didn't answer, just picked at the fabric of the chair she was sitting on. Augur sighed and lay back in the chair, closing his eyes. "Horrors," he said softly and then fell silent.
John shook his smoky head as he went pacing restlessly across the floor. "What are you doing when you graduate from school, Petunia?" he asked. "It's only in a few weeks."
Truthfully, Petunia hadn't even thought about it. She had applied to a few universities and even been accepted by two of them, but her double life distracted her from such things. She had time to make a decision still, but she had no idea what to choose. It was a bit of a surprise that John had even remembered her graduation was coming up.
"Going home for the summer and then on to university, probably," she said carefully.
"Indeed," said John slowly.
"Why do you ask?" Petunia said, wondering at his odd tone of voice.
Augur lifted his head from the back of the sofa and looked straight at her. "If you'd like it there's a spot being held for you at the Ministry in the Department of Mysteries. A paid job, not this volunteer undercover work you've been doing. You'd continue doing what you do now, of course, but we would apprentice you to someone so you'd learn more than a simple crash-course like we did last summer. You might not have the same abilities as the other wizards there, but in the Department of Mysteries, no one would be able to tell. Or care."
That was a crash course? Petunia thought.
"The only catch is," said Augur, "you would have to continue keeping it a secret. Lord Voldemort is particularly against Muggle-borns being allowed into wizarding society, and your family's security would be in jeopardy. You, as a… well, something quite unique… face a great deal of danger from him. Impure blood and all that rubbish."
Petunia swallowed. Night after night she woke up from screaming nightmares… and to have no one at all to speak about it to… it was bad enough now. No one would know what she went through, no one would be able to understand…
"I can't see everything," she said quietly. "Why do you want to give me this job when I can't see everything? People are still going to die."
"No one else can see anything, or not half as much as you can, anyway," said Augur. "Madame Devin and Bernard have all but given up. They never See anything anymore. Nothing. You are our only hope, child."
"No," said Petunia. "How do you expect me to keep on doing this? I can't! I can't! No one knows what I do, no one understands anything!"
John whirled around. "I know what you do," he said grimly. "I understand what you are. Who you are. That is all you can ask for. Later there will be recognition. Normality. Once this war is over."
Petunia glared at him. "That's low," she said. "I won't do it, John. I want to go away and ignore this for a while. I don't want it to be my job. I don't want this to be my LIFE!"
"Why not!" cried John. "It is mine! And at least you can return to YOUR life when it gets to be too much for you—" The smoke within him seemed to roil and writhe, twisting and turning malevolently. Petunia quivered, nearly expecting lightning to come shooting out of him and burn her to a crisp.
"That is enough, Scryer," said Augur tiredly, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "Petunia, I think you are upset today. Give it some thought. The offer will stand until you give me a final answer, and I want you to consider it thoroughly. In the meantime, will you please try to find out what you can about the possibility of an upcoming attack?"
Petunia nodded. With a loud crack John Apparated away. Augur sighed. "Be careful," he said, and then he too was gone. Petunia sat for a long time, waiting for the Time Turner's magic to run out, and then shuffled downstairs to her last class of the day, wondering what she would do.
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The mists rose up in the crystal ball, swimming around her reflection. "Come on, you bloody thing," Petunia said, concentrating on the Dark Mark and the Death Eaters. Atrocities committed, atrocities prevented—bloody figures danced in her mind's eye, but nothing appeared in the crystal ball.
She thought of the Scryer and his anger today; it was sudden, unexpected, but then so hers had been also. But she felt in the right still; it was her life after all. She could refuse to fight a war that she should know nothing about in the first place.
Without warning the mists parted—green light shot from the crystal ball, and Petunia, startled, found she could not pull away. What was this? Never before had the crystal done such a thing.
Terror began to creep up in her heart—a pair of slitted eyes like a snake's materialized in the midst of the light.
I see you at last, little Seer, hissed a voice from the depths of the crystal, at once like a snake's and a man both.
Petunia knew it well.
"Voldemort!" she cried, and tried to thrust the crystal ball away. But the vision held her fast, no longer under her control.
Look well, my little Seer, hissed the Dark Lord. The vision fuzzed and Petunia found herself looking at her own house…
Flames leapt high in the darkness, the Dark Mark glistening in the night above the ruined roof. Dark figures flitted around the ruins, and with a sinking heart Petunia realized that two bodies lay crumpled on the ground. "Mum! Dad!" she screamed, struggling all the harder to free herself of the vision. She had to get away, had to warn the Order of the Phoenix, had to tell someone--!
Voldemort laughed. Warn who? No one will listen to you any longer, little Muggle. His eyes met hers once more. This is no vision you See, filthy Mudblood! It has already happened! It is happening right now!
"How is it happening now, how, how," wept Petunia. "Let me go!"
I cannot have you letting the Order know of all my plans, said Voldemort, the mocking mirth gone completely from his voice. I think you've ruined my plans enough.
And the vision went dark, and finally the crystal ball released her. She screamed and thrust it away from her as fast as she could. Tears dripped down her face; she stood up and backed away from the still-glowing crystal, her hands shaking. She had not felt so sick since the first time she had Seen, that day in Lily's room.
The trapdoor down from the school attic refused to open; at last she wrenched it off the hinges in a sudden fit of rage with a strength she hadn't known she possessed. She tiptoed through the dormitories, afraid that the gasping sobs wracking her body would wake someone, but no one heard. Carefully she snuck into the Head's office and dialed her parents' number.
"This line is currently out of service," said the operator's recorded voice, and Petunia slammed the phone down in its cradle.
She heard a sharp crack from outside the window and whirled around in the chair. Then another, and another; low voices floated up to where Petunia sat frozen in the Headmaster's chair. "She's in there somewhere. Find and bring her to the master, that's our orders."
"How do we know which one's her?" said someone else. "I can't tell one Muggle from another."
"We put a Dormancy spell on the school. No one's going to wake up until we find her, and she's not getting past us. Master's been keeping her busy with Legilimency so she'll be the only one awake."
Petunia slithered out of the chair and down to the floor, one hand over her mouth.
"Nice of the Dark Lord… good that he can focus it through a crystal ball. Nobody else could do that!" said the third admiringly.
"What's her name?" said the first one. "We could do a Locator spell if we knew that."
"We just got a home address and a school, idiot. You know Voldemort's been trying to figure out the person who keeps ruining our plans, but the stupid informant didn't tell us anything else but where to find her," said the second. "Guard the doors while we search the place."
Petunia tried to keep her heart from leaping out of her mouth—someone had betrayed her—but not totally. They were giving her a chance to escape. She forced herself to stop panicking and think logically. There were enough stories of people sneaking out to meet up with boys that one of them had to be true, and useful.
The laundry—no, that wouldn't work. It only got picked up during the day.
The trash chute—no, couldn't. The dumpsters were right next to the doors where the Death Eaters were talking.
The chimney—but how to get off the roof?
The sewers—a possibility… probably the best possibility. A drain in the cellar led right into the sewer system. Petunia and her friends had often wondered why, but right now she didn't care. She had even taken it out before and knew how to get all the way into town.
Listening at the door, she heard nothing, so she slipped out into the corridor. Halfway to the kitchens, where the cellar door was, she heard footsteps coming. There was nowhere to go; the hall was only for gym lockers! Petunia clapped her hands over her mouth. They were on the stairs—they were coming—Lucy's locker was right next to her… She knew the combination, Lucy always used the same combination, or was that Maggie? She hoped it was Lucy… she didn't know where Maggie's locker was. With trembling hands she spun the dial around, trying to be quiet as voices echoed down the stairwell. 28, 31, was it six or seven? Six didn't work. She spun it again…
The lock clicked open! Petunia slid into the locker and held the door to keep it from locking her in as the voices echoed on the landing. The footsteps went past the row of lockers once, twice, and then she heard the door to the stairwell slam shut again. Hoping desperately that they wouldn't come this way again she stayed where she was for a count of two hundred and then carefully eased the door open.
Locking it again, Petunia slipped down the rest of the hallway and into the kitchens. Thanking whatever luck had allowed her to make it this far, she fairly ran down the stairs of the cellar and dropped with a splash into the sewer.
Town was only a mile or so—she could make it. She had to make it.
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