June 1973

In her essence, Petunia was no fighter.

She only started things when she was sure she could win. And her weapons of choice were snide remarks and cutting words.

If she didn't see a way to emerge victorious, not even by underhanded methods, Petunia wouldn't yield but retreat. Leave the battle entirely or never even start it to begin with.

So, when Eugene's next letter arrived, as cheerfully and carelessly worded as always, Petunia retreated. She stopped asking questions. She stopped carefully hiding them away and taking them out before she went to bed to read.

She forced herself to cut out those things that hurt her.

And after the fifth letter - Is everything alright, Petals? - she stopped replying entirely.

Cutting something off that had become an integral part of her routine, her life, only took four weeks.

For the wounds to stop hurting, it took six months.

Six months in which Petunia spent more and more of her time with Aspen, to the point that her mother started worrying because she was so rarely home. She might have assumed that Petunia was 'running with the wrong crowd', because she sometimes stayed outside all night and missed school far more often than she had in all the years before.

The only thing that seemed to calm her mother down were reports from Butcher Emery who told her that Petunia diligently came by every day to pick up meat scraps. And she never smelled of alcohol or looked twice at his cash register.

Of course Petunia wouldn't allow her pain to hurt Aspen. No matter how much she felt like her chest had become a prickly, shattered mess, she wouldn't neglect his care. He needed her - and this last half year, Petunia had also needed him.

Supplementing his diet - despite Aspen catching birds for himself - was at the top of her priority list. He was after all still growing, at least if she believed what Eugene had - don't think about him .

Clearing her head of unnecessary thoughts, Petunia walked into the butchery.

Butcher Emery's shop was a cool reprieve from the stifling summer sun and Petunia exhaled with relief. Today was an unusually hot day for the British Midlands and small beads of sweat were running down her back and glueing her fine blonde hairs to her forehead. The air inside the shop smelled of cleaning agents and a bit like stale blood, a strange combination that Petunia had gotten used to over time.

Butcher Emery glanced at her upon hearing the bell tingling above the door but couldn't spare her more than a twitch of his red moustache. He was a short but broad man who had the kind of hard fat coating his belly and arms that screamed 'strength' instead of 'indulgence'.

Petunia recognized the man standing in front of Butcher Emery as Farmer Wilson, though the man's straw-colored hair was usually properly patted down around his protruding ears, not messed into a nest. His eyes were blood-shot and he looked a lot thinner than Petunia remembered, the only spot of colour on his waxy face a sunburn peeling the skin of his nose.

"I'm telling you, I'm cursed! The milk turns sour, the chickens lay no eggs and now you're telling me my pig's too thin for butchering?"

Petunia knew him, of course she did, Cokeworth wasn't a big community. But more than that, Farmer Wilson could actually be considered their neighbour. The fields surrounding the Evan's house all belonged to him and he usually used them to let his cows graze or collect straw for the winter months.

Emery grunted. "'Tis be a shame to kill 'er. Not much meat to be had."

"She's the fattest one I got," Wilson protested and a note of despair creeped into his voice. "I'm telling you, something's going on. I'm feeding them like usual!"

"I ain't killin' that sow. It's not worth it." Butcher Emery crossed his arms and glanced at Petunia. "Got some stuff for you there, kid, take it."

Petunia tried her best 'Lily' smile - sweet enough to rot teeth, though she didn't have the dimples to give it the full effect. "Thank you, Mr. Emery."

The man just grunted before refocusing on Wilson, who was pulling on his hair.

Petunia quickly grabbed the paper bag with a few bones, fat, and other inedible meat scraps and left the blessedly cool store. The atmosphere inside had been stifling and despite the wall of dry heat that pressed against her face once she was outside, Petunia felt like she could breathe easier.

Cokeworth had a small shopping street, with a grocery and general good's store framing Butcher Emery to the right and a bakery to his left. Also part of the street were two clothing stores whose rivalry always provided great gossip for the whole town and a pawn shop that doubled as a jeweller. Petunia glanced at the displays while ambling down the street. She still remembered that time when she had seen a pretty, ruffled skirt in the window once and had felt the quiet elation when her Mum actually went inside the store to buy it. Only to realise once they arrived at home that it was intended as a present for Lily.

Petunia weighed the bag of meat leftover in her hands and decided to hurry up, as it would spoil quickly in this unusually sweltering heat. She quickened her steps, while continuing to glance at the displays behind the meticulously cleaned window fronts. No nice skirts she could see, but - Petunia stopped.

There was something.

She retraced her last two steps and stared into the pawn shop. A tacky, golden wristwatch was displayed next to two necklaces and a handful of gaudy, sparkling rings. An antique looking hand mirror reflected Petunia's widening, blue eyes as she stared at the last object with a transfixed gaze. Sitting right in the middle of it all was something that had her mouth turning dry.

A big, silver egg.

Petunia had read 'Magical Beasts and Where to Find them' so many times the edges of some pages had turned smooth with wear. Of course she'd paid the most attention to the chapter about Thestrals, but all the other creatures were just too fascinating to ignore. Petunia had often found herself doodling small sketches of them during school when she should be paying attention to class.

And because of that she quite clearly remembered that there was a creature that hatched from silver eggs, an endangered, magical creature that should have never appeared in a dreary small town in the middle of nowhere, Britain.

But … now she was looking right at it, sitting on a faded velvet cushion in a rundown pawn shop.

It's probably just a decor object , she thought, it's not real . But no matter her thoughts, her feet had already carried her inside the store.

Mr. Chapman, a wiry old man, was bent over his counter, inspecting something that looked disturbingly like a golden tooth with a small instrument. The air inside his shop wasn't cool and clean like in the butchery but stuffy and uncomfortably stale, smelling like dust and decaying paper. He looked up at Petunia's entry, his overly large eyes behind his glasses ghosting from the greasy paper bag in her hand to her trodden-down shoes and simple school uniform. She could almost feel his disregard brush against her like a physical thing when he narrowed his eyes before warning curtly: "No touching."

"Mr. Chapman, what's this?" Petunia pointed at the silver egg. Her finger was barely trembling.

"A silver-plated ostrich egg." Seeing her interest, something flashed through his film-layered, brown eyes. "I bought it for quite some coin from a travelling gentleman just last week. That's coated in real silver, little miss, just lifting it you can feel the weight of all that precious metal. In the past I'm certain it was displayed in the houses of noble families, a piece of great pride for it represents not only sophistication but also something exotic and unique - an egg this big is nothing that was seen often during those times, nay, even today. And considering its precious coat, enough to make a whole lot of silver necklaces and rings, it was highly priced."

Petunia nodded along with his speech, her eyes ghosting back to the egg at every second word. Just last week meant it could still be … "Can I hold it?"

The brown eyes narrowed. "All customers are allowed to inspect my wares. Only the best in my shop, guaranteed."

His implication was quite clear. He wouldn't allow her to touch it if she was just playing around out of curiosity without intending to buy anything. Petunia was too distracted by her own thoughts to pay him much attention, stepping towards the egg and carefully lifting it.

It was surprisingly heavy … and warm.

Maybe it was just warmed up by the muggy air inside the shop, but it somehow felt like a different kind of warmth. As if it was generating heat by itself.

As if it was alive.

And then, just when her thoughts started to waver, the egg twitched the slightest bit.

"Careful!" Mr. Chapman was standing at her elbow in a second, hovering protectively. "It's round and slippery, almost rolled off my display case a few times already. You have to hold it securely or not at all!"

Feeling her hands start trembling, Petunia carefully resettled the egg on the faded velvet which scratched uncomfortably across the back of her hand.

A similar scratch brushed her heart, goosebumps breaking out across her arms. She couldn't lie to herself, not at this moment. Whatever was inside the egg was alive.

For now .

But what would happen to it from now on? Would it … die here? In this dusty, old shop with a tight-fisted old man praising it as a tacky antique?

Even though she had let go of it, the ghost of its smooth, warm shell lingered on the skin of her palm. And suddenly there was no decision to be made, Petunia realised what she had to do. Accompanying that realisation was a strange calm that settled over her, a calm that lasted all the way back to her home where she gave Aspen his treats before climbing up to her room and opening a small shoebox underneath her wardrobe.

A beautiful brooch caught the afternoon sunlight, the tiny, faceted stones decorating it sending dancing sparkles across the walls of her and Lily's shared room. A big sapphire sat in the centre of t der he brooch, framed by a star cluster of clear, smaller but no less precious stones, all held together by exquisitely spun strands of silver that curled into the shape of flower petals.

Petunia had wanted to cherish this brooch all her life; she had intended to wear it for her wedding and leave it for one of her grandchildren (if she had any) so it would always stay in the family. It was everything her grandmother had left her after her death, Petunia's most precious possession - and also the only thing she possessed that had any monetary value.

Her heart felt heavy and slow as if her blood ran thick and sluggish with debris, but her mind was clear and sharp. This was about much more than dead diamonds and sentiments. It was about a life.

And so, just when the golden daylight started to become tinged with the first bleeding traces of red, Petunia exchanged one brooch for one magical egg.

Petunia glanced at the shimmering, round egg that sat beside Aspen on his blanket. It caught the light from a hazy golden ray that had creeped through the slit between two boards of the shed, motes of dust dancing through the beam. It looked precious and beautiful, but the scene failed to make Petunia feel good. Instead a nagging anxiety slowly tightened her muscles.

Petunia was fairly certain she knew what creature would hatch from the egg: an Occamy. At least that was what the book would make her assume. But the knowledge didn't really help: would a snake with wings be considered a reptile or a bird? Should she keep the egg warm or just leave it alone?

If she still had contact with him , she could simply ask …

No, don't think about it .

Ignoring the sting that pierced her chest, she quickly started stroking Aspen's neck, the feel of his cool, smooth skin a balm for her nerves. He was dozing against her side, his head cushioned by her thighs. It felt heavier than Petunia remembered and usually this would have made her happy; it meant that he was steadily growing.

But today all her concerns were solely focused on the egg.

"What should I do?" Petunia's whisper felt empty in the still, murky air of the shed, no-one around to answer her. "I don't want to make a mistake …"

Aspen huffed and nudged his head closer, maybe so she could better reach the place behind his ears. Petunia complied absentmindedly.

Despite herself, a faint idea ghosted through her head, a thought that had haunted her repeatedly and had been banished just as many times.

Petunia bit her teeth and lowered her gaze. Ever since it happened, she had done her best to erase all her memories of that dreadful winter evening at the Weasley's, stuffing them deep down into the dark recesses of her mind. Petunia didn't want to be reminded of his fed up voice, his condemning words …

I must not give a damn then …

But there was another aspect of the evening that refused to fade into oblivion just as stubbornly. It creeped out of her subconsciousness whenever she glanced at the egg and felt lost. Something that happened before she found Eugene, something different and strange. In her mind she saw a pheasant feather bobbing in front of the bleak night sky.

Xenophilius Lovegood. The pale-haired boy in the ugly clothing.

Petunia knew his name. She could contact him. Just like she'd done before, first with Lily's headmaster and then …

Stop it .

Xenophilius had known about a lot of creatures. Creatures that weren't even mentioned in the book, not one of them. And he'd known how to handle that talking ferret. There was a possibility that he would know what she was supposed to do with a silver egg as well.

But the experience with Eugene had burned her. Petunia had thought she could trust him. She had told him about Aspen. She felt like they were … friends. She'd even allowed him to worm inside her heart like a blood-sucking parasite, eating her up from the inside.

Aspen nuzzled her knee and she resumed lightly rasping her short nails across his smooth skin. He was the only one who deserved a place in her heart, Petunia had long decided.

Petunia couldn't find it in herself to trust another wizard, to ask for help from someone who belonged to a world that considered her less simply because of her birth.

Maybe Xenophilius would help her. Maybe he would mock her.

Maybe he would report her to his ministry, and she would be locked away in a strange, magical prison, never to see Aspen or her family again.

Her eyes once more sought the egg, as if it had a magnetic pull on her. It remained unchanged, bathing in the sun and looking like a precious ornament more than anything truly alive or organic.

She'd had it for just over a week now. In that time she often tried to listen to it, but no matter how tightly Petunia pressed her ear against the warm silver, she could never make out a heartbeat - or anything really. It could be that the shell was too thick to allow any noise through.

It could also be that there was no longer anything to hear.

The last possibility made her swallow against the sickness washing up her throat. Petunia had wanted to save it, not damn it.

Should she write to Xenophilius after all? She didn't know anything about him, but she hadn't really known anything about Eugene either.

And how had that turned out?

The egg twitched. Petunia paused in her ministrations of Aspen, relief washing through her body in a clean stream flooding away the dark thoughts clogging her mind like poisonous sewage. It's still alive .

The egg didn't move often, but every time it did Petunia felt as if the sky had cleared of all heavy clouds. It was a sign of hope, a confirmation that she was doing fine. It had twitched a total of three times that she had observed, always just a minimal tick to the side and never more than once a day. But it was enough.

And then, just when Petunia heaved a deep sigh of relief, the egg twitched again.

Petunia froze mid-breath. It had never done it twice in succession before.

Was something wrong?

Before she could really comprehend what happened, it twitched a third time, so hard it almost rolled out of the blanket-nest. Petunia prodded Aspen's heavy head aside and quickly crawled over to it, her fingers uselessly hovering above the shell without touching it.

"Is this … is it ready?" she asked … no-one. Aspen.

Her answer was not silence but a crystalline splintering sound. Hairline cracks were spreading over one part of the shell as if Petunia had dropped it.

Aspen joined her side, his slit nostrils vibrating while he sniffed the egg.

"Don't you dare eat whatever comes out of it," Petunia warned him, but her voice was barely more than a hush.

While she was almost sure it would be an Occamy, she also knew that the book wasn't all-knowing. Maybe there was more than one creature out there that laid silver eggs, as ridiculous as that sounded to her.

Petunia hoped it would be an Occamy. At least then she'd know what to expect.

The cracks widened, small pieces of the shell breaking off. Petunia lowered her head and held her breath, peering through the gap. Darkness. And then, just for a second, a whisper of iridescent scales.

Wow .

Before she could get another look, a piece of shell almost took her eye out. Leaning back Petunia watched with a fluttering stomach as a tiny, pale beak reached through the hole, widening it.

When it chirped, high-pitched and soft, Aspen huffed in answer.

And despite feeling like a lunatic Petunia couldn't stop herself from joining in: "Hello."

The hole widened enough to allow one gleaming, amber eye to peer into the world beyond its shell.

And the first thing it ever saw was Petunia.

The sky was slightly overcast and the fresh smell of rain was lingering on the soft wind that ruffled Petunia's blue curtains and flapped a page of the book she had opened on her desk. But despite the grey clouds, the air was still warm enough that she didn't feel inclined to close the window, prefering to ponder over her notes with the breeze cooling her neck.

A small snake with wings was wrapped around the girl's slender wrist like a precious gem bracelet, its scales glittering from bright turquoise to deep emerald. Its beak rested on the back of her hand, inquisitive yellow eyes watching as Petunia carefully wrote down line after line of meticulous observations.

While 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' had been decidedly unhelpful when it concerned the care of the magical egg, it contained enough information about Occamy that Petunia felt confident the first few days - she knew that Occamy were omnivorous, eating everything from fruits and insects to meat and fish. She knew that they were born with enough intelligence and strength to defend themselves. She knew that they could shrink or expand their mass at will, something that she hadn't quite comprehended until she actually saw it.

What hadn't been written in the book was how attached they got. Petunia had been spoiled by Aspen, who despite being young, hunted by himself, slept by himself and generally didn't demand more than her companionship and some pats.

The Occamy was different. The first time Petunia had left it alone in the shed, thinking that she could hardly bring it with her to school, a splintering sound had alerted her before she even took five steps. Turning around Petunia was confronted with a sight that almost made her faint from shock.

The old boards were barely holding the shed together, creaking and groaning torturously, while a gigantic body pressed against them from the inside, the formerly miniscule, iridescent scales now as big as Petunia's head. One of the windows had burst from the pressure and a shower of glass rained onto the dry grass, making space for the tip of a violet and green feathered wing.

The first thought Petunia had at that moment was to thank God that her parents had already left for work. The second had been that it seemed she wouldn't leave the Occamy behind after all.

Since that day it either resided in her bag, or even more often, wrapped itself around Petunia's arm like a clinging plant. That behaviour was also where Petunia came up with its name: Ivy. And because that sounded like a girl's name, Petunia also decided on its gender, despite not having any indications if the little snake was actually a boy or a girl.

Severe attachment issues wasn't the only thing the book failed to prepare her for. Ivy also slept irregularly, often waking Petunia up at night because she was bored or hungry. Both could be alleviated the same way: Petunia would start throwing small berries or dry shreds of meat into the air, and Ivy happily swooped after them to catch and devour them, chirping eagerly. Not having had a good rest for nights on end, deep circles marred Petunia's pale skin, making her blue eyes look even more washed-out.

Likes catching grasshoppers , she wrote her last note, the ink quickly drying on the page. Whenever they were outside and Ivy spotted something rustling in the grass from her hiding spot underneath Petunia's sleeve she was hard to stop. It was no problem on the afternoons after school, when Petunia did her homework in the shade of the shed and Ivy chased mice and bugs alike through the field. But it was a different story in school or in town. Honestly, Petunia had never appreciated how well-behaved Aspen was and how convenient his invisibility truly was for her until Ivy had hatched.

The only reason her parents hadn't found out yet was because they would never expect their boring, rule-abiding and unmagical daughter to hide some kind of monster from them. So even if Petunia was wearing long sleeves despite the heat and always carried her bag around even if she wasn't on her way to school, they barely noticed. Only the broken window had required some explanation, but after Petunia simply claimed to have no idea either, they had let the matter rest and her father had installed a new one over the weekend.

But now Petunia was facing a bigger challenge. Lily would be back by the end of the month, returning for her summer break. And no matter how indifferent her parents were to Petunia's oddities, Lily wouldn't brush them off so easily. Not only that, they would share a room! How should Petunia hide Ivy from her sister if she woke her up by chirping every night?

Ivy rasped her smooth scales against Petunia's skin in impatience, wanting her to resume writing so she could continue watching the pen move. Petunia sighed and started doodling, drawing a few scales and feathers. The ink drawing of the Occamy in the book circled her notes, looking more imposing and fierce than the little green band wrapped around her arm.

"If you can grow to any size you want, how will I know when you've grown up?," Petunia asked the little Occamy who just rustled her wings in satisfaction.

"What should I do when Lily comes back?"

Ivy pecked at her fingers when Petunia once again stopped drawing. Instead of continuing, she put down her pen and started turning pages instead, the smooth flapping enough to keep Ivy's attention.

"Happy now? You're almost as spoiled as Lily, you two might get on just fine." Just as she said that, a cold rush doused Petunia's head and she sobered up. What if they would get on just fine? Would Ivy wrap herself around her sister's wrist instead and peck at her? Because until now, she saw no other way than to tell Lily the truth and swear her to secrecy in front of their parents. Petunia wouldn't be able to hide Ivy's existence from someone who lived in the same room as her, and she also couldn't hide her in the shed like Aspen - at least not if it was supposed to remain standing.

And once Lily knew that Ivy existed she would surely want to play with her …

The only other option she could see was moving into the shed together with Ivy, and no matter how little her mother might care, her daughter living in the garden like a vagabond would surely be a step too far.

Wanting to distract herself, Petunia stopped flipping pages and started reading instead. She had landed on an entry she wasn't too familiar with, having read it only once or twice until now. A caricature of a strangely long-legged pig was crouching in the upper corner of the page, beady, black ink dots as its eyes.

The Nogtail , it read just underneath it, is a creature found in rural areas across Europe, Russia and America. It resembles a stunted piglet, but with narrow black eyes, a thick stubby tail, and long legs. The Nogtail sneaks into a sty and suckles on an ordinary pig, which implicates the whole farm. The longer the Nogtail goes undetected, the longer the blight will stay on the farm.

Petunia paused and frowned. Something was nagging at the back of her mind. Why did it feel like she was forgetting something? She was sure she had never seen such a creature before, she had rarely even seen a normal pig, only the few times when Farmer Wilson brought a sow to Butcher Emery …

Farmer Wilson!

She suddenly knew what had been itching at her memories, wanting to crawl forward. Farmer Wilson's complaints about his farm and animals, just before she had discovered Ivy's egg in the dusty pawn shop. What was it he said again?

I'm telling you, I'm cursed!

Maybe he hadn't been so far off.

"Ivy, there might be more magic around me than I ever realised." Petunia pondered the entry in the book. As a non-magical person if it wasn't for Aspen she would never have even encountered or learned about any of them. But by now there was a certain fascination building in her chest whenever she stumbled upon another creature, the same fascination that made her exchange her most precious brooch for Ivy's egg. The same fascination that made her re-read the book over and over again.

But this time, the creature sounded quite sinister. Petunia wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to actually follow her curiosity and look for it.

Ivy had grown bored now that the pages didn't move any longer. So she grew in size, the additional weight dragging Petunia's wrist down towards the desk, and uncurled her tail, wrapping it around the abandoned pen instead. Waving it through the air, Petunia watched as Ivy made a few dots on the paper.

"Very talented."

The drawing of the Nogtail wasn't as happy about the Occamy's endeavours, it hid deeper in the corner and snarled, showcasing tiny, sketched teeth.

Petunia kept on reading the entry beneath it.

The Nogtail is exceptionally fast and difficult to catch, though if chased beyond the boundary of the farm by a pure white dog it will never return.

So there was a solution to Farmer Wilson's problem. Petunia pondered in silence while Ivy grew even wilder with her 'drawing', ink drops landing on the desk in a silent pitter-patter. The noise soon echoed from outside and Petunia glanced at her open window. A summer shower was silently curtaining the view with silver strands, the air smelling like wet, warm grass. The earthy fragrance spread through the room and Petunia inhaled deeply.

Maybe she should pay Farmer Wilson a visit. It would give her something to think about other than Lily's impending arrival and the consequences for her and Ivy.

Looking at the little Occamy happily playing with the pen, Petunia found a small smile gracing her lips.

"Time to be a good neighbour."