I'm back, Readers! Well, Molly Weasley struck me as the perfect embodiment of the maternal instinct kicked into overdrive-wrath in defense of one's children. In this chapter, we move onto an indignant form of wrath. Oftentimes, anger can mask disappointment or pain...as Petunia Dursley knows well enough.

As usual, I own nothing. Almost literally.

Enjoy!

Denied

Petunia Evans opened the envelope with trembling fingers. Here it was, at last-the response she'd been waiting for. Half of her didn't really expect the headmaster to reply; the other half was breathlessly hoping for good news.

If the reply was in the affirmative, then everything would go back to the way it was (the way it's supposed to be, thought Petunia ). Lily and I will be together again. I'll look after her and she'll look up to me. We'll have adventures and secrets that no one else knows about.

The envelope was made of the same thick, yellowish parchment that Lily's letter had been when that black-haired woman had delivered it to Mum and Dad. Petunia ran her fingers over its smooth surface and breathed in the crisp smell of the glossy ink sprawled across the envelope in an elegant calligraphy. It was just as that awful boy had said it would be. It had to be the answer Petunia was waiting for; it just had to. An apology for the oversight, followed by an earnest request for Petunia to take up her rightful place at…what's it called, again? Hogwash? Unable to contain herself much longer, Petunia opened the envelope.

Dear Miss Evans,

Thank you for your kind letter. It is refreshing to see a young lady so attached to her younger sister that she hopes to accompany her to Hogwarts at the start of term. The love, guidance and protection of an older sibling such as yourself is a rare treasure indeed. Lily should consider herself very fortunate.

Unfortunately, l regret to inform you that l am unable to offer you acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the present time. Although I am sure you are very bright and hardworking, the coursework at Hogwarts would prove impossible for a student who has not demonstrated any evidence of magical powers. I am sure you'll understand and forgive my inaction in this matter, and l wish you the very best in your studies and in all you do.

I am, most sincerely yours,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster

Petunia read it once, then immediately read it again to be sure she wasn't mistaken. No, it was true, the horrible words really were there, scratched onto the weird yellow paper in some sort of green ink. Hadn't these freaks ever heard of a typewriter? Honestly, it looked as if the old madman had used a fountain pen or something! Petunia laughed derisively under her breath, scorning everything to do with the place the unwelcome letter had come from and feeling the heady sensation of power and superiority course through her with every jibe she thought up. The accompanying hollow feeling had yet to make its customary appearance. What did she want with a school of witchcraft, anyway? What was it to Petunia if Lily and that scruffy Snape boy went off to learn mad tricks and spells and other such rubbish, while Petunia was left behind to study maths and geography with all her normal, magic-free friends?

And then, completely unbidden, Petunia felt a reckless rage wash over her like a wave of boiling water. The letter slipped from between her fingers as Petunia threw herself onto her bed, kicking and flailing and muffling her screams and howls in her pillow as she gave in to a vicious but nearly-silent tantrum.

"lt's not fair!" she screeched as she swept papers off the desktop and onto the floor, "it's-not-FAIR!" Spinning around like a top, Petunia seized each of the dolls and stuffed animals from a nearby shelf and hurled them violently at the wall. One, a china doll Petunia had received for Christmas several years ago, shattered with a crash, raining bits of porcelain down on the carpet. A single doll-sized eyeball rolled out from under the bed—green, like Lily's eyes. Stupid Lily! Petunia scowled bitterly into the hollowed-out shell that had once been the doll's exquisite china head. The dark emptiness inside was mildly frightening, a vast blackness that a child was never meant to see, an unknown behind the creamy façade where powerfully negative emotions had plenty of space to hide and dwell and grow in intensity.

"Petunia? What's going on up there, dear?"

Raising her head at the sound of her mother's mild, inquisitive voice, Petunia clenched her hands together to keep from trembling in barely-controlled rage and willed her voice to sound normal. "Nothing, Mummy," she replied. Surely her mother had heard the crashes. It had been stupid, really, to cause such a mess…but had it ever felt satisfying.

"Sweetheart, are you all right up there? Is Lily up there with you?"

Lily. All they cared about was Lily! For God's sake, couldn't they get their minds of their precious Lily for five minutes?

"I've no idea where she is," snapped Petunia, as the sound of her mother's footsteps in the hallway got closer. Then, her anger metamorphosizing almost instantaneously into spite, she looked around the ransacked room and added maliciously, "But she left an awful mess!"

Smiling vindictively, Petunia pictured the look on Lily's face when their mother got a hold of her and the remaining rage inside died down to a contented simmer. She looked down at the crumpled parchment in her hand and buried it deep inside her top desk drawer, knowing no one would ever see it if she had anything to say about it, as the doorknob turned…

Ooh, nasty little girl! I hope you enjoyed this installment (yes, I know it's a short one, but emotions this powerful tend to climax fast, then decline in intensity just as fast) and are looking forward to the final chapter. At the end of the next chapter, I'll offer a preview of the next Deadly Sin to take the stage.

All the best,

Delilah