August 1973
Petunia kept on with her cleaning service for another week before an unsigned envelope stuffed full of money arrived in the Evans' mailbox. It was addressed to Petunia. There was just enough there to cover the remaining cost of her trip with Poinsettia.
Mr. Evans was sure it was Mrs. Vandercamp who did it. Mrs. Evans thought that it might have been the patrons down at the Pious Priest. Petunia didn't agree.
"They're a bunch of raucous old barflys, even if they do feel guilty, which they probably don't." she said to Lily, as they watched Top of the Pops one evening. "They'd want credit. Mrs. Vandercamp's kind enough but she does it for attention, so it can't be her either."
"That's a bit unkind," said Lily, but she said it with a fond smile.
Petunia smiled back. She had missed Lily terribly. Even her mild admonishments. "It's true. You should hear her at the grocery store. She talks the poor cashier's ear off about all the charitable works she does with her church for at least a quarter hour every time."
"I think that it might have been Mum and Dad, and they're just pretending it was from someone else. They probably feel bad about…" she stopped and bit her lip. On the television, Led Zepplin's "Whole Lotta Love" played. Lily looked at the title card for Top of the Pops appear and disappear, then turned back to her sister. "Well, they feel terrible."
Petunia sighed. "They don't need to. It's not their fault."
"Even so. I bet it's them."
Petunia didn't agree, but she didn't see any reason to continue with the subject. Her suspicions were too ludicrous to even voice, and they'd already exhausted all the other options. Lily could very well be right. It didn't make any sense, otherwise.
Still. Only the night before the envelope appeared, Petunia had been sure she'd seen a tall, thin woman skulking about their yard from her bedroom window. The night had been moonless and the streetlights were all inexplicably dim, so she hadn't been able to identify the prowler, but she had definitely seen someone. As to who it was… well. That would be impossible, so why think about it? And she could not ever see herself summoning up the nerve to ask.
The first week of August was lovely and mild and Petunia's trip to the Lake Country was steeped in breathtaking scenery. She'd never seen such wild country outside of the trip to Hogwarts. The lakes were all blue and green and sunkissed and the trees and hills were as tall and wild as the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. There was much ado about Poinsettia and her friends in Broughton-in-Furness, which turned out to be a Wizarding village, to Petunia's delight. Poinsettia's had been every bit as wealthy as she had described, and they insisted on throwing a party in their cousin's honor while she and her friends were in town. For two nights, Petunia chatted with more adult Witches and Wizards than she ever had in her life. One butterbeer-soaked evening, she'd even danced with a boy her age. He'd kissed her cheek when the dance was through. Circe teased Petunia about it until they left.
But it was not as much fun as she'd hoped it would be. Every time Anita brought up someone from school, Poinsettia would discuss all the things about them that made them inferior. Petunia found that this activity wasn't as enjoyable to her as it once was.
Several times, Anita tried to bring up Lily or Severus, but Petunia always found a way to refocus the subject on someone else. Potter and his gang were useful targets, as well as Olivia Wilde, Liza Rogers, and Professor Slughorn. When abusing Wilde or Rogers failed, Slughorn always succeeded in redirecting Poinsettia's ire. She'd never forgiven him for not inviting her to join the Slug Club.
"And me, so well-connected!" she huffed, her bright red nails tapping irritably on the rim of her teacup.
"He'll invite you this year for sure," said Anita. She patted Poinsettia's hand. "I imagine he wanted to wait until he was certain about your Aunt's fortunes before he took the risk."
That had been the wrong thing to say. Poinsettia's eyes jerked into incredulous circles. "There's nothing to be sure about! I'm the one he should be paying attention to, not her! Who else can brew a Forgetfulness Potion without having to look up the ingredients? Who else knows as much as I do about people?"
"I only meant-"
"You only meant he'd want me for her sake, not mine." She brought her hand to her mouth and chewed on her knuckle. She often did this when she was upset.
"No," said Anita. Her eyebrows were arched so high they disappeared under her fringe. "No, I never meant that at all. It's your Aunt, she's been taking a lot of risks lately, and that's what's kept him from you, not any fault of yours."
Though Poinsettia would never admit it, Anita was correct. Petunia followed the news very closely, and there were scattered reports that the undersecretary's political leanings as of late were moving towards anti-Muggle sentiment. She'd been seen twice recently in the company of Augustus Rookwood, and once served as chaperon to the young Malfoy heir on his latest visit to the Ministry. Slughorn was a blowhard and an ambitious man, but he would not associate himself with the ilk of known Muggle-haters. That was probably why Petunia had trouble hating him.
"That's right," said Circe. "You're talented and smart and pretty and he's just an old drunk."
She elbowed Petunia under the table. Petunia quickly looked up from the tablecloth and saw Poinsettia staring pointedly at her.
"Yes!" she nearly squeaked. She cleared her throat. "Yes. Circe's right. Slughorn's a fat, pompous has-been who can't see past the end of a crystalized pineapple. If he can't see what he's missing then he's not worth your time. When he asks you to join the Slug Club, tell him to go jump in the lake and kiss the giant squid."
Poinsettia smiled at that. Circe giggled nervously. Anita asked Poinsettia what Padriac had done for her birthday, and the subject was changed to romance and moonlit boat rides and how wonderful it was that Padriac and Poinsettia were together.
When the trip ended, and Petunia took the Smith family's Ministry-approved portkey back to Cokeworth, she wished she knew why she felt so relieved.
Diagon Alley was vibrant. Posters decorated every other window, proclaiming support for the Appleby Arrows or the Wimbourne Wasps in their upcoming match. Streamers in the teams' colors, black and yellow or pale blue and silver, magically floated above the cobbled streets. "BAG IT, BAGMAN!" flashed ostentatiously from several banners. Children decorated in rosettes chased each other on toy brooms and there was laughter or screaming or shouting coming from every pub. Petunia and Lily had to use their elbows to cut paths through the thick crowd to get to Madam Malkins or the Apothecary or Flourish and Blotts to pick up their school supplies for the year. A group of men in Wasp colors roared in celebration as the wireless they were gathered around proclaimed another goal in their team's favor. The noise was deafening.
How Petunia hated Quidditch.
"We've only got one thing left," she said, and marked off "Wand Polish" from their shopping list. Lily had improvised a shelter from the tide of people behind a rainbarrel. It was full, so it wasn't at any risk of someone accidentally knocking it over onto them. Though with the way things were going for the Wasps, Petunia was not sure that the barrel wouldn't soon be magically dumped over the heads of the nearest Arrows fans. "We're heading to the Apothecary next."
Lily nodded, a determined glint in her eyes. "Right. Get behind me. I'm going in."
Petunia tucked the shopping list back into her purse, grabbed their bags, and fell in line behind Lily. Her elbows were deadly. More than a few kids who'd dared call her "ginger" back in primary school had suffered bloodied noses due to their wrath. When Lily jabbed the nearest adult, a stocky man in a purple tricorner hat, he yelped and jumped sideways.
"Sorry!" shouted Lily. "I can't see where I'm going! Sorry! I'm just a little girl! Everyone's so tall! Sorry!"
The crowd parted before them.
"I hope your team wins!" Petunia said to anyone who looked at Lily in annoyance for more than a few seconds. "Really! Go Arrows!"
"I support the Wasps!" said one indignant woman in a yellow cloak.
"Go Wasps!" said Petunia, and scurried to catch up to Lily.
They arrived at the Apothecary a bit breathless, but unharmed. Lily spun around. Her cheeks were flushed and she was grinning in triumph.
"That was so much fun!"
"Fun for you," said Petunia.
"Oh yeah? Then why are you smiling?"
Petunia coughed into her fist as an excuse to school her features. When she looked up, she was all business.
"I'm not. I just had to cough. Here, you take the list. I'm going to go look at cauldrons."
Lily accepted the list, smirked, and saluted her sister. "Yes, captain!"
Petunia rolled her eyes. Lily laughed and trotted towards the horned slugs. Both of their kits were getting low on Potions ingredients. Lily had a better eye for Potions ingredients than Petunia, so she was perfectly content to let her do all the work. Besides, her cauldron was looking a bit droopy along the lip, and thanks to her anonymous donor, she had enough money left over from her summer job to replace it with a longer lasting one. She dodged a couple that was arguing about love potions and a group of children poking the flobberworms to get to the cauldron display, leaving Lily within earshot.
She was deciding between the copper one and the silver one when the door chime jingled behind her. She looked idly over her shoulder to see if it was anyone from Hogwarts, then turned around in disgust.
It was Potter and his gang. All four of them. They were decked out in yellow and black. Potter and Black were arguing amongst themselves about their team's chance of going on to win the title that year. They wore what were obviously brand new, tailored robes and it appeared that Potter had new square spectacles. Lupin didn't appear to care much for their conversation, and was trying to chat with Pettigrew, who was himself attempting to interject into Potter and Black's verbal tennis match. Lupin, she noticed, had a few more patches in his robe than the last time she saw him. She had no idea what he did to put so many holes in his clothing, but she was sure it could be attributed to Potter and Black's combined influence.
It was a pity he wasn't a Ravenclaw. Everyone in the tower knew that he always scored well on his exams. If he had just been sorted into his proper house, he might not have met Potter and Black, and then he wouldn't have to spend so much time mending his clothes. Petunia was sure that he'd look handsome if he'd just smarten himself up a little.
Just then, Potter broke off his conversation with Black and grinned in what he thought was a very rakish manner. Petunia thought he looked like a buffon.
"Evans!" he said, his voice on octave higher than it had been. He leaned one elbow against the corner of the unicorn horn display. In an exaggeratedly casual tone, he added, "All right?"
Lily, elbow deep in beetle eyes, glared at him.
"What do you want?" she asked.
Potter glanced at Black, who snickered and elbowed Lupin in the ribs. Lupin, who had been rifling through a pile of discounted billywig stings, turned his attention to the others. They looked as interested in this exchange as the quidditch fans outside were in their game.
"Nothing!" said Potter. "I only wanted to say hello. You look great, by the way."
Lily pulled her arm out of the bucket of beetle eyes and threw a fistful of them into a paper bag. Glittery black eyes clung to half the length of her arm. Without shaking off her hand, she scratched her chin and left three long streaks of black grime.
"Thanks," she said. "Goodbye."
She turned around to go, but Potter caught her by the wrist. The look she gave him could have melted glass, but he didn't quail. Petunia was begrudgingly impressed.
"Aw, come on," he said. "We're headed to Florean Fortescue's after this. He's got the game up on wireless and all quidditch fans are getting half off. Come along. I'll get you a rosette and buy you a sundae."
Lily yanked her hand free. "I'd rather eat a toad."
Black cackled. "We could arrange that. Right, Remus?"
Lupin shrugged. "Certainly. Though I'm not sure the quality of the toads here is up to the standards of human consumption. Perhaps the Menagerie would have a better selection?"
Peter bounced on his heels. "We'll buy one and make you eat it!"
Black snorted and rolled his eyes. "Leave the humor to the professionals, eh Peter?"
Potter's lip twitched. "Come off it, Evans. Snivellus isn't even here."
"Don't call him that. And it doesn't matter if he's here or not. You're still a bigheaded blowhard."
Petunia cracked a smile. As insults went, it wasn't exactly cutting. But Potter looked so stunned by this that Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew dissolved into laughter. Black slapped Potter on the back, knocking off his glasses. He caught them and fumbled them back onto his nose. Both he and Lily were as red as her hair.
"Fine!" he said. "See if I ever invite you to ice cream again!"
"I don't want you to!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!" mocked Black, in a high-pitched voice.
The boys laughed again. Potter grabbed Black by the arm and dragged him out of the shop. Pettigrew trotted after them like a toy dog. Only Lupin stayed behind.
"For what it's worth," he said, a slight smile playing at his lips, "James means well. You ought to take him up on that invitation."
Lily folded her arms and stared at the display of mistletoe berries to her left. "I'll talk to him when he apologizes to Severus."
Lupin smiled a little sadly. "Ah, well. That's something I fear we may never see. Good day, then, Lily. Petunia."
He nodded at Petunia. She started to wave, then stopped herself and pursed her lips disdainfully. He sighed. The shop door jangled behind him as he left to join his friends.
"Idiots," said Lily. She grabbed another paper bag and began cramming lionfish spines into it.
"Complete idiots," agreed Petunia. "Shall I hold the bag?"
"As if I'd go out with him," seethed Lily. She snatched another spine, glowered at it, and threw it in with the others.
"You're going to prick yourself if you're not careful."
"Bleeding Potter and his bleeding stupid…" She searched for a few seconds. "Hair! Ouch!"
A bead of blood appeared her palm. One of the spines had pricked her when she'd squeezed it a little too hard. Petunia tutted and took out her handkerchief. She pressed it to Lily's palm. The blood wicked up the white cloth like a fishtail.
"I told you to be careful," she said.
"I was!" said Lily. She cringed. "Ow. Ow!"
"You were not. Where does it hurt?"
"It's in my wrist now."
Petunia sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. "You've been poisoned. Stay here. I'm going to get the shopkeep. She'll have an antidote prepared. Don't suck on it."
Lily nodded. She was a little white, and her hand shook when she held it out in front of her. Petunia found the clerk shooing the children away from the flobberworms. When she reported the situation, the old woman scolded the both of them for their thoughtlessness and reached into her robe for the antidote.
"Really, now!" she said. "There's a reason why we provide protective gloves! I expect better from Hogwarts students! Show me your hand, child."
She carefully poured a drop of the antidote onto Lily's hand, which had turned bright purple. In seconds, a stream of green smoke rose rise from the wound, leaving an odor of sea salt and a smooth patch of skin behind it. Petunia thanked the woman for her kindness.
"You can thank me by looking after your sister better in the future," she said with an imperious glare, and swept over to the unicorn horns to stop a young man from putting them in his pockets.
Petunia glared at her retreating back. What did she know? She'd told Lily to be careful. It wasn't her fault that Lily didn't choose to listen to her. Petunia was willing to bet her entire collection of scrub-brushes that woman was an only child.
"Rude old bat. Come on, Lily. Let's pay for our things and leave."
Lily didn't answer. She was pressing her hand to her chest with her eyes squeezed shut.
"It still hurts," she whispered.
The indignation in Petunia's chest melted like summer snow. "I'll take care of it," she said. "Leave everything here and go sit outside. Stay in sight. I'll be there soon."
Lily didn't argue. She nodded and threaded her way to the door. Petunia watched her take up a position in front of the great window that read "APOTHECARY" in giant green letters before she was satisfied that Lily wasn't going anywhere.
She paid for the ingredients with someone other than the condescending old woman and gathered up all the day's purchases to join Lily.
"How's your hand?" asked Petunia.
"Better," said Lily, though the color hadn't fully returned to her face. "Can we sit down somewhere?"
"Of course. Follow me."
The crowd was still as thick as it had been before they entered the shop. Petunia made her way through by using their shopping bags as bludgeoning weapons. They received fewer admonishments that way, but it was slower going. They were soon across the road at a small cafe. Petunia ushered Lily into one of the plush orange chairs that lined the sidewalk and ordered her a cup of peppermint tea. In about twenty minutes, after they'd drunk their tea and had a few biscuits besides, Lily reported the pain was mostly gone.
"Thanks," she said. "And sorry."
"I did warn you," Petunia said, as she fussed with the bag of books from Flourish and Blotts. She scooped the change from the apothecary out of the bottom where she'd hastily thrown it earlier, dropped it into her coin purse, and snapped it shut. "I wish you'd listen sometimes."
Lily sighed. "I listen! I was just so mad. I don't know why Potter thinks..." she shook her head. "He's such a bully, Tuney. You should see him with Sev. Him and Black, they curse him because it's fun. Lupin's just as bad because he doesn't stop them. And Pettigrew just laughs."
"It isn't Lupin's responsibility to stop his friends being idiots."
"He should at least say something. If they're his friends, they'll stop."
Petunia thought of Poinsettia's smile, Anita's nervous giggle, Pettigrew's wide-eyed anxiety, and Black's barking laugh. She pushed Lily's empty teacup with one finger, making it rattle in its saucer.
"What if he can't say anything?"
Lily gave Petunia a puzzled look. "Why shouldn't he? They're his friends. They won't stop being his friend just because he tells them not to pick on people."
"Do you really think so? No one likes being told they're wrong. Not about anything. Not even friends."
"I say things to Sev all the time and he doesn't get mad and ditch me."
Petunia raised one eyebrow. "And he listens to you?"
Lily's chair shook as she curled up into it, knees to her chest. She hugged her legs and propped her chin on her knees.
"Sometimes," she said.
A resounding cheer went up through Diagon Alley. Here and there, groans could be heard amidst the wild celebration from disappointed Appleby fans, but their misery was utterly overshadowed by the rapture of the victorious Wasp supporters. People hugged each other. The rainbarrel from earlier was duly emptied onto several people's heads. One Wimbourne fan threw a package onto the ground that erupted into thousands of magically stingless wasps. Then a storm of yellow and black confetti erupted from every open window. Bits of it landed in the dredges of Petunia's drink.
"If they chuck him for saying they're wrong, they aren't very good friends," she said.
"No," said Petunia. She picked confetti from her hair, and her fingers brushed the bow that held it all in place. "They're not, are they?"