Hello, thank you all for following/faving/reviewing this story.

I didn't expect not even a fraction of attention for it, so I'm a bit amazed! I'll try to keep this story going, as I'm a fan of Petunia centric fics and her character beeing redeemed.

As a little note about shipping, because some of you have asked: I like shipping, specially Petunia ships that are NOT Vernon. But romance isn't the focus of this story and very little will be here.

Thank you for reading!

Petunia Evans was a good child.

Demure, polite, smart. The kind of girl that knows her please and thank yous, the kind of girl that waits her turn patiently to speak and doesn't take a step out of line. Her teachers would often say the exact same; She's polite and smart and quiet, but lacks social interaction in class, keeping to herself and one or two classmates.

She was quiet, but never withdrawn.

So the sudden change she goes through, the stillness of her words, stiff back and hands, worry her parents and teachers alike, like a switch was pressed from one day to another. Petunia was but a shadow of a child, trying to occupy as little space as possible.

They notice the change, not right away, but after a couple of days of simply living by like always, Harry and Daisy Evans can tell there's something bothering their eldest daughter a lot. Because Petunia would just get too quiet sometimes, her hands would get twitchy or shake and she would have to breathe and grasp the hem of her skirts to regain control. Her usual warm tone with Lily had been lukewarm at best, if not slightly disinterested and not at all there.

They suspect bullying, someone must be messing with their little girl at school, and Petunia is tight lipped about it, but it must be something quite strong to make her be at arms' length with her own sister.

Figuring out that was the problem, both worried parents make a point to speak with Petunia's teachers, surely, that must be the issue.

School is not a problem for Petunia, she finds out next day.

The subjects are easy, not like they were particularly hard in the first place, she had the fourth best score in general in her class, and was quite proud of the feat at nine years old. Studying extra hard for Math and History to keep her not-quite-high but definitely-not-low position on the class's scoring board.

It changes, however, when she finds out said subjects are just plain simple.

She knows the formulas to her math problems, which in itself isn't surprising, but when it's new problems her teacher brings forwards, she can do them without having to hear the explanation. Almost as if she can hear phantom words whispered in her ears telling her how it's done, from a time that never was. Her hands do shake a little as she solves each problem quickly, and she avoids looking at her classmates walking back from the blackboard, where had wanted her to solve a problem on her own. Having done most of it, Petunia fidgets with her hands and stares blankly at her pen while the lesson simply washes over her.

Each class is like that, leaving her to do most of it on her own without a single hitch, as if it's just too easy, something she already knows. Each class, she has to deal with her runaway thoughts and flashes of a nightmare that leave her jumpy and pale, listening to a mute laugh and seeing green spots here and there.

She walks with Lily, like always. The school isn't far from home, ten minutes between home and the building itself, it's rather easy to walk on their own, hand in hand as Lily chatters away and Petunia tries to focus on the words coming from her baby sister's lips.

For some reason, Lily's presence stirs odd feelings she can't quite understand. Petunia feels her stomach drop to the sole of her feet, her throat closing off as the thought of screaming at her for one reason or another pops into her head. A snide little voice whispering cruel words about the redhead she's holding hands with; Freak, demon. She tries hard to quell them and snuff them out, memories of ill jealousy, of pain and worthlessness flash in front of lightly glazed-over eyes. Too fast and muddy for Petunia to understand what they are or what they mean. Her grip on Lily's hand tightens.

"Tuney?" Lily asks, feeling the small pull on her sister's hand, as if she wanted to pull away but changed her mind before doing so. "Earth to Tuney! Are you feeling okay?"

"..Yes." The blonde nods, blinking rapidly and smiling at her sister as a lie comes from her mouth. "I was just thinking about 's class."

"Math? That's boring" Lily pouts, childish as she is. A large smile soon overtakes her features though. "Did you see what I did last night?"

"What?"

"I made Ann float! All by myself!" She whispers, Lily's bright, green eyes twinkle with enthusiasm only she alone is capable of having. But Petunia can't focus on it, her words alone silencing everything else in her head. Float? As if she had forgotten about Lily's special ability, Petunia looks at her with a startled expression, and Lily mistakens her look as she answers with a sheepish grin. "Nothing broke this time!"

"Your Raggedy Ann doll." The older girl simply replies, almost in a daze. Yes, yes she knew this- But how? She remembers this, Lily's Raggedy Ann doll being the subject of most of her sister's little tests with m- With her powers. She made it float last night. She knows that tomorrow, the same doll will tear down its arm and it will sew itself shut as Lily pouted at it.

[Then two days after that, Lily would get angry at the Sullivan twins in the playground, a rock would hit one of them in the back.]

[A week after that, Lily would start making flower buds dance in her hands, and two week from there she would practice until-]

Petunia's stomach does uncomfortable flips as something vile rises from her throat. She looks away from her sister, onto the sidewalk, and vomits whatever her empty stomach wanted to let out.

"Tuney!"

She's mortified, cheeks burning as she heaves and spits a rancid substance. Petunia feels Lily's tiny hands on her back, her voice startled and full of concern and almost on the verge of tears at her sudden sickness. "I'm- I'm fine."

"No! Tuney, you're sick!" Lily wails, her eyes already pooling with tears. Petunia is too ashamed to look at her, at anyone. She can hear mumbles and feel queasy stares in her direction, never before had she wanted to simply disappear, for the earth to swallow her whole.

[Except she had, the same little snide voice tells her, she has very much so wanted that before.]

Lily grasps her hand, leaving the puddle of sickness behind as she power walks with her sister towards their house. The onlookers' stares burn holes into Petunia, much more self-conscious than her lively sister, and tears prickle at her own eyes. She can still taste the insides of her stomach in her mouth, bitter and nauseating.

They both get home teary eyed, their parents making a fuss once Lily wails that Petunia had gotten sick on their way home, and the eldest Evans sister is coddled and fussed over by her family, like any other nine year old child would be in her place.

Their parents do get her to a doctor's office in fear of sickness or anything of the sort, and Petunia gets to stay at home for two days 'just in case' of a stomach flu. Lily does not mention her powers again those days, much more keen on staying by her sister's side. Petunia does hear in passing though, from their living room's window as a group of children walked by, Albert Sullivan complaining about someone throwing a rock at him on the playground. Dutifully, both sisters ignore him, albeit each for different reasons.

A week after that, Petunia tries hard not to shriek as Lily shows her a small, pink petunia bud slowly open and close between her hands, only for a few seconds.

"Isn't it amazing Tuney?" Lily whispers, her eyes enthralled on the dancing flower bud between her fingers, almost pouting when the flower stops moving. "I wanna show mum and dad."

Petunia doesn't answer, not right away, her eyes glazed-over for a split second, forgetting how to breathe. For a single moment, and for unknown reasons, she feels jealousy that isn't her own, and a twinge of fear that does belong to her.