A/N So, another chapter! I do have to admit to you readers that I don't have much planned for this story. I know, I know, it's a pretty bad idea, but I spent a year trying to plan for this story off and on, and it just never seemed to get done. So flying by the seat of my pants it is!
Oh yeah. Also, Harry Potter is obviously not mine. This is just my little A/U spin on the story that I'm writing for my own amusement.
After that fateful September day, Mr. and Mrs. Evans saw a remarkable change in their eldest daughter. Gone was her perpetual frown and standoffish nature, replaced by a small smile of accomplishment and an air of determination. It was astounding and wonderful, and when they asked Petunia about what had changed, she simply smiled and answered, "Magic."
Finally, Petunia had something about her that was extraordinary, praiseworthy, special. Now that she had this new opportunity within her grasp, Petunia pursued it with a fervor. She immediately spent a sleepless night pouring through her potions textbook, trying to learn as much as she could about her new craft and quickly came to a conclusion: Potion making is just like following an extremely specific recipe. It was all about precision. In fact, Petunia believed that she, a mere beginner at potions, could manage a passable advanced potion.
Petunia likened potion making to a weird sort of chemistry lab mixed with cooking. It definitely wasn't cooking food, but it certainly wasn't a chemistry lab either. It required the timing and precision of delicate recipes, and it required the knowledge of reactions of substances like in chemistry. Also, there seemed to be two paths to take as a potioneer: an average potion maker, or a potions mistress. If she was to simply follow the directions in the textbook as she would a recipe, the result would be an average potion. However, if she took the time to experiment with the brewing process, there was the possibility of creating improved or even new brews like potions masters and mistresses did. Although, after the first instance where she created an explosion in the backyard due to potion experimentation, Petunia decided to put off modifying recipes until she had more experience.
As September came to a close and October came about, Petunia came out of her potions craze. Within a month, she had brewed and mastered every beginner-level potion in her book. Honestly, she was a bit disappointed with potions. She finally had this magical skill, and hardly any of the potions she had brewed were practical. Honestly, who needs a Hair-Raising Potion or a Swelling Solution? Aside from pranks, which Petunia Evans just does not do, she couldn't really find a reason to brew potions like those two except for the experience. Oddly enough, the most practical potion she had brewed so far was actually the first she ever brewed, the Boil Cure. Slightly diluted, the red paste became a light pink cream that would remove pimples overnight instead of within a minute.
Books and potions ingredients don't buy themselves, so Petunia needed a source of income. Thus, her watered down version of the Boil Cure which she aptly named, Pimple Cure. Petunia was a teenage girl, and she knew just how much she hated to have pimples and how much she would have given pre-potions to get rid of pesky pimples overnight. So why not capitalize on that aspect of the lives of the other girls at school? Business was slow at first, but when girls started figuring out that plain old Petunia Evans' "Natural Acne Remedy" really worked as quickly as she claimed it did, business was good. She didn't make an extraordinary amount of money, but she believed it was enough to buy what she needed whenever she got around to visiting Diagon Alley.
Now with a steady source of income and a good grasp on potions, Petunia wasn't sure what to do. On the one hand, potions were dear to her heart simply because they were the key that opened the door that led out of averageness. On the other hand, Petunia couldn't really see any uses for most potions in her life. It seemed to her like most potions were geared towards dealing with magical problems and thus couldn't be used by her, or produced such outlandish effects that she couldn't possibly dream of using them in her mundane neighborhood. Eventually, logic won out over emotion, and Petunia reluctantly decided to only make potions as she needed them.
Instead, Petunia turned to the other book that her little sister had sent to her almost a month prior. It was a rather thick book titled, Ancient Runes Made Easy, that claimed to have the translations for over twenty-one thousand runes and symbols. At first, Petunia didn't really see why Lily bothered to send her the book. Petunia thought ancient runes was just another dead language like Latin and didn't see the magic behind it. As far as she was concerned, ancient runes were common knowledge that any normal person had access to. People could actually get professional degrees in Runology! But as Petunia read on, she realized that there was a difference between plain old runes and runes. The runes that the rest of the world knew of were just parts of dead European languages with nothing inherently special about them. But magical runes, those were another thing entirely.
In ancient days before the times of wands and other magical foci, magicals used runes as a way to direct their magic. Magic is inherently wild and hard to control, so magicals pushed their magic into runes in order to bring order and structure to their power. Runes were kind of like primitive computer programs or engines powered by magic; they were desired effects written out in physical form, just waiting for the power needed to carry out said effects. String enough runes together in a chain or array in just the right manner, put in the right amount of magic, and there's a magical machine. In goes the raw magic on one side, out it comes refined and with purpose from the other side. In this manner magicals could manipulate the elements, shield from harm, banish the monsters in the dark, and even tamper with space and time.
But, as magical foci became more refined and popular, the art of runecraft was slowly pushed to the side in favor of the easier, safer, newer, and more convenient alternative. Why carry around multiple runestones for several different spells when one can carry just one staff or wand and cast hundreds of spells? Eventually, wands took over as the only way to cast spells, and runes were slowly forgotten to be more than anything else than useful tools in enchanting and warding.
Petunia read this history of magical runes and was hooked. Brewing potions is great and all, but it's still basically glorified cooking. But runes? If she could pull it off, Petunia would be able to cast spells! Spells! Something visible and awesome that she would be able to use to amaze her family! This is what she was looking for! Forget potions!
Then Petunia hit a roadblock. She memorized the basic runes and their meanings, practiced drawing them out just right, and set up a safe area in the backyard where she could practice safely. And nothing. She could draw the runes correctly, perfectly even! But how could she push magic into them? Petunia was confident that she had at least a little bit of magic, she had too! But how to bring it out? This problem stumped her, and Petunia sulked and brooded for nearly half a month till she found a possible solution: blood.
Petunia had been sulking in her room, as she had been for the past few weeks, and had decided to at least review what potion knowledge she had so she wouldn't forget her hard-earned knowledge. Then there it was! Right at the end of the very beginner's section of the book: the twelve uses of dragon's' blood. It was noted that as magical creatures, dragons had magically potent blood that had a multitude of uses. Quickly flipping through the potions book, Petunia found that the trend of magical creatures having magical blood held true: dragon's blood, magical salamander blood, re'em blood, unicorn blood; they all held rather powerful magical properties.
Now, Petunia didn't actually have any kind of magical creature blood in her beginner's potions kit. After all, magical creatures' blood tended to be quite expensive. So Petunia did the next best (or worst, if you think about it) thing. She used her own blood. She reasoned that she's got to have at least a little bit of magic flowing in her blood, so it'd be better than none, right?
And so, as October came to a close, Petunia Evans sat in her backyard and pricked her thumb with a needle and squeezed several drops of her blood into a small dish of ink she had prepared. Petunia mixed her blood and ink, took a small paintbrush, and carefully drew out the Elder Futhark rune, Sowilo onto a small piece of paper with her new ink. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed a bit more blood out of her thumb and let it gather a bit, then pressed it firmly to her new rune. At first, nothing happened. Then Petunia yelped and yanked her hand away from the rune as the paper went up in flames and smoke. For a while, Petunia just stared at the charred remains of the paper. Slowly, Petunia started to laugh. It was a laugh of relief, joy, hope, and freedom. This was the final straw, the last piece of evidence that Petunia needed to know that she really was unique, more than what everyone else saw, special.
As she sat there in her backyard and quietly laughed out her relief, Petunia idly thought about having to use her blood to activate the runes. It would get awfully tiring and potentially dangerous if she had to sacrifice blood every time she wanted to do magic. Perhaps she should look up meditation in order to hopefully find and harness her inner energy? Petunia finished laughing, took a deep breath, and decided that yes, she would look into meditation. But not today. Today, she would relax and bask in sweet, sweet success.
A/N Hmm... I kind of felt like this chapter was lacking somehow. Lack of conversation, maybe? I don't know. Tell me if anything strikes you as weird please.