What Petunia is Not
There were a few sheets in the envelope, and the first slid out into Petunia's hand, as though eager for her to read it. She examined it front and back, and then read:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards.)
Dear Miss Evans,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Suddenly, the afternoon sunshine seemed cooler. Petunia lowered the letter. Then she read it again. Then she put it back down, on the grass by her knee. This would make sense, she thought, this would explain all the strange things I've done.
Petunia sometimes made things happen, when she was very, very happy, or terribly angry. Just the last week of school, she had done something strange again. Her teacher read the latest maths test scores out loud. Petunia was good at maths, but she'd been beaten by one little boy in her class by two points.
Jeremy and his gang laughed out loud, and called her dumb, as soon as class let out. Jeremy never let her alone, and she was sick of it.
Blinking back furious tears, Petunia had kept her head up and walked quickly towards her neighbourhood. Jeremy's taunting voice floated after her on the fresh summer breeze. She turned to face him, ready with a biting insult, when suddenly the pavement square beneath Jeremy had moved!
It jumped to the left, and slightly up, throwing Jeremy flat on his back in mid-taunt. The surrounding group of boys looked shocked and more than a little afraid. Jeremy began to choke on his bubblegum, and no one noticed the pavement slide gently back into place. It took him a moment to spit out his gum, but when he managed, he turned to say something menacing to Petunia.
She found it hard to be intimidated by a purple-faced boy with drool on his chin, however, and had walked away, laughing. I must have imagined that, though, because pavement doesn't move! Not normal pavement, anyway. Petunia glanced back at the letter, shaking off the memory.
The wind whistled through the tree branches, making the letter rustle for her attention. Maybe…maybe it's really not the pavement, or anything else…? Maybe it was me. I did that…? She shook her head. There was no way, NO WAY, that she was a freak like that! She was made fun of by boys at school, for being tall and skinny, and when she got mad… Well, look what happened! And it didn't improve anything,. They would keep their distance, but they became more creative in their insults.
No, she was not different.
No way. Not going to happen. Sorry Minerva-whatever-your-name-is, I'm not going!
Petunia rose with resolve, and tore the letter into tiny, confetti-like pieces. She scattered them in the garden, and went inside to play with Lily. She forgot about the envelope, and it lay propped against the tree trunk, waiting. It didn't cross her mind over dinner, nor did it enter her thoughts the next day.