September, 1971

Petunia's 13th birthday took place on the third of September, just two days after Lily had left for Hogwarts. She got a pretty new dress and her mother had baked her favourite strawberry sponge cake. But Petunia felt like her parents were only half-heartedly cheering for her, their thoughts occupied with their missing, younger daughter. No matter how much they smiled and tried to look happy, Petunia could sense the melancholy surrounding them.

If she ever had children, she would never make them feel unwanted on their own birthday. They would get everything they desired. She would never repeat her parent's mistake.

She couldn't stand the atmosphere for more than two hours. Her mother had asked Petunia if she wanted to invite any friends over to play, but Petunia ignored her, walking towards the forest instead.

She hadn't accompanied her parents to London to send Lily off. It had seemed an unnecessary trip and she especially didn't want to see her parents lavish affection on their special child going off to a magical school while she was forced to stay behind. She wouldn't miss Lily or the stinky boy anyway, what was the need to say goodbye? They could twirl flowers and play with their stupid sticks all they liked at their new school. Petunia didn't need them.

She had her little monster.

Traipsing through the forest, she secured her scarf tightly around her neck. The days were already starting to get shorter and colder, and especially the shadowed forest made her feel chilled if she didn't bundle up.

She didn't find the little monster every time she ventured into the forest, but she faithfully brought the ham sandwiches anyway. The little thing was so thin it definitely needed any nutrition it could get.

Now that she knew it wasn't dangerous, she saw no reason to not take care of it. Having an invisible monster as a pet sounded like quite an advantage - if anyone ever talked about her behind her back, she would just let it bite them. And no one would be able to lay the blame on her.

But first, she had to tame it.

Not spotting it in the small clearing, Petunia backtracked, finally discovering the little monster in the shadow of a big tree - though the image it presented made her pause.

The little monster was lying down on its side, not walking around like usual. A slight shiver jerked the thin skin above its flanks, but it didn't move otherwise.

Is it still alive? Coldness spread through her chest. "Little monster? I brought you a sandwich."

The little monster reacted to her voice, slowly lifting its long head, the milky-white eyes facing her. Petunia grabbed a sandwich and threw it over. The little monster sniffed it, but didn't eat, his head collapsing back onto the earth.

Was it sick? What had happened in the few days Petunia hadn't seen it?

She didn't dare approach it for fear of frightening it and chasing it away. So she just sat down on the ground, moist coldness slowly seeping into her wool-dress. No matter how long she waited, the little monster never ate the sandwich.

The image burned itself into Petunia's mind. What was she supposed to do now?

Petunia stared at the paper, feeling unreconciled and unwell. It was the second time she would send a letter to a wizard and she was dreading it.

The first time she had written one to Albus Dumbledore, her heart had been filled with hope and anticipation, only to be shattered mercilessly. She didn't want to open herself up for another humiliation. And most of all, she didn't want to ask anyone for help. She relied on herself and wanted to resolve her problems with her own power.

But this time she was at a loss. She clenched the pen in her hand, almost putting it down - but whenever she was about to, a picture of the shivering, unresponsive little monster flashed through her head.

It was the only thing that made her special and Petunia was the only one who could see it. She was its only hope, just as the monster was hers. Without it Petunia would return to being … the unwanted, magic-less, ugly sister.

And without her, the little monster might perish.

What was the worst that could result from writing this letter? Humiliation, rejection, her brain supplied immediately. But if it paid off, she might be able to keep being special.

Her first thought had actually been about the book about creatures. But no matter how much Petunia thought, she couldn't come up with a way to get her hands on it. Not only did she not have the means to pay for it, she couldn't even go into the street or shop where it was sold. She had no hope that Mrs Snape would take her - especially if neither Lily nor Severus were there - and even if she made the trip to London by herself she wouldn't be able to find the street.

She wasn't magical after all. They didn't want her there.

The prospect of asking Lily for help made her stomach clench and nausea crawl up her throat. Lily might be able to help - she could ask the stinky boy always flitting around her, or being magical herself maybe have even more options. But Petunia's whole body had rebelled at the thought of admitting towards her sister that she, Petunia, wasn't as good as her. That everyone had been right all along, that Lily deserved to be better.

That's when she remembered the boy she had briefly met at the bookstore and confused for an employee. After all, I'm always here to help.

A ludicrous idea slowly started to sprout in her head. She knew that the boy hadn't been serious, instead teasing her for her misconception. But still … he appeared quite knowledgeable about Thestrals. And his father was an author, publishing a book about creatures - he had to know something.

She couldn't think of anyone else. It was either him or Lily.

Concerning the boy, she had already messed up at the bookstore. She had accepted his help, not once but twice, and in this case 'accepted' was just another word for 'demanded'.

What difference did a third time make?

But now, sitting at her desk and staring at the blank paper, doubts began to creep into her mind.

Humiliation, rejection, her mind repeated. In exchange for … a chance.

Gritting her teeth she put her pen to the paper and began writing.

This letter is intended for Eugene Scamander, student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

My name is Petunia Evans, and we briefly met before the start of term in a bookstore in Diagon Alley. I'm writing to you now because there are still some things I need to know concerning Thestrals and was wondering if your offer to tell me more about them was genuine.

If this is inconvenient, I withdraw my request.

Kind regards,

Petunia Evans

It was pitifully little text, looking a bit lost on the white paper but she didn't know what else to write. She was actually quite proud that she had even remembered the name by which the old book keeper called him, combining it with the author's last name.

She wouldn't have been able to address the letter otherwise.

Ignoring her queasy stomach Petunia carefully folded the letter and stuffed it in an envelope, writing the same address she had used for Dumbledore's letter. She didn't know how it had reached the school that time, but if it worked once, it should work twice.

She would send it off on her way to school, and if she didn't receive a reply the next few days, she had no other option but to contact Lily.

Or leave the little monster up to its fate.

Even though Petunia thought she was quite self-aware, she herself wasn't sure what decision she would make in that case.

Petunia had a dream of the past.

Lily was still young and innocent, looking up at her with big green eyes. She was begging Petunia to play together, to play 'school' - a place Petunia was allowed but Lily was not yet. So Petunia tried to teach her little sister the alphabet without fully understanding it herself and all was right with the world. Lily was her little sister, not a freak. Petunia was able to love and care for her.

There was nothing to force them apart. Though Petunia knew things Lily didn't, she shared them.

A rhythmic knocking tore the fleeting images apart, the impression of Lily's gap-toothed smile haunting Petunia into wakefulness like a vengeful ghost. A sour feeling brewed in her stomach while she tried to banish the images.

Nowadays it was Lily who could do things Petunia couldn't - and there was no way to share them, ever.

The knock sounded again, distracting her. Looking up, Petunia blinked in surprise.

A giant bird was sitting at her window, looming like a big, black shadow in the pre-dawn light. It was some type of owl, with brownish grey feathers and a wide face dominated by yellow eyes that were looking straight at Petunia. Small feather tufts were standing up on its head like horns of a devil and its sharp beak was crooked strangely, as if someone had twisted it.

If Lily hadn't received her Hogwarts letter in this fashion, Petunia would have been genuinely disturbed. As it was, she was only unsettled as she got up from her bed and opened the window latch.

A letter was bound to the bird's foot and a spark of hope ignited in her stomach. Was it a letter from the boy? It had to be, she hadn't contacted anyone else who would think of owls as a normal way of communication except for magical folk. As decisively as possible Petunia quenched her surge of hope and tried to ignore the enormous claws just a few inches from her skin as she went to untie the letter.

Unfolding it, the first thing she noticed was the unfamiliar handwriting - sloppy but still legible - and that the writer didn't seem to have used a normal pen as the ink was dotted and the thickness of the stroke was uneven.

Dear Petunia Evans,

Fancy my surprise upon getting your letter. As you never introduced yourself at the bookstore it took me some time to realise just whom I could thank for this honour. But alas - I just can't stop my overly helpful nature. I don't mind sharing more about Thestrals, but I must admit, I'm curious why you want to know. I didn't think it was a creature girls would be fond of, all things considered.

By the way, just use Krampus to send your reply, it's easier that way. And no worries - he only bites his favourites.

Best, Gene

Reading the last sentence Petunia quickly took a step away from her window-sill. The bird was ignoring her, grooming its feathers but didn't leave.

Taking a deep breath she once again focused on the letter. The words were mocking but not overly cruel, a level Petunia was barely able to tolerate. And he had offered his help, however sarcastic. Whether it was genuine or not remained to be seen, but it was her only option at the moment.

She had already mastered the worst part - writing that initial letter. Now that she held an answer in her hand, her unease slightly subsided.

So he wanted to know why she cared about Thestrals. Petunia hesitated for a second, not wanting to open up to anyone, much less a stranger.

On the other hand, what did it matter if she told the boy the truth? It wasn't as if he would actually care about her or whatever she did. He was simply being nosy.

She sat down at her desk and started writing, trying to keep her response as formal and aloof as possible, to contrast his overly familiar tone.

Greetings Eugene Scamander,

Thank you for offering your help. I am interested in these creatures because I saw one of them in the forest by my home and it didn't look too healthy. You said they aren't dangerous and apart from me no one else can see it.

I'm sure you won't mind that I fed your terrifying bird,

Petunia Evans

Only after bribing the giant owl - it was as big as her whole torso - with some breakfast sausages, did Petunia dare to carefully bind her reply to its leg. The owl inspected her handiwork, before flapping its wings and flying away.

Petunia watched it disappear into the murky sky, only now fully realising that the boy from the book store had actually taken the time to reply to her. There had been nothing that forced him to do so - he didn't owe her, quite the other way around and Petunia also couldn't think of anything that would be beneficial to him about the situation. They didn't even know each other.

An unfamiliar feeling slowly spread in her chest and Petunia frowned in discomfort.

She almost missed the bitterness her dream had left in its wake, but none of it remained.

She received her reply two days later. The big horned owl was waiting outside her window when Petunia got home from school and all thoughts of homework vanished from her head. Its round, yellow eyes followed Petunia while she put down her book bag and went forward to open the window.

She had checked the forest yesterday but had been unable to find the little monster which made her slightly worried. Of course it could just be hiding, but what was she supposed to do if it had actually left? Hoping for some more information, she unfolded the letter.

Hey Petals,

As long as you don't stuff him until he's too fat to fly, I don't mind if you feed Krampus.

Did you only see one of them? Thestrals live in herds, so encountering them alone is quite unusual.

By the way, looking thin and creepy is normal for them, no need to worry.

Gene

Petals? Petunia felt her nose crinkle in aversion. It was true that she didn't like her name but no one had ever given her such an absurd nickname. Tuney or Tunes were what it was usually shortened to - not that she would have reacted any better if the boy suddenly addressed his letter with 'Hey Tunes'.

Trying to focus on the important bits of the letter, she sat down to reply.

To Eugene Scamander,

Please refrain from calling me 'Petals'.

I'm sure the Thestral is alone, I've seen it multiple times and there was never another around. Could this be the reason it's not well?

As long as your bird doesn't peck me, I won't overfed him,

Petunia Evans

Hey Petals,

I'll stop as soon as you stop addressing me with 'Eugene Scamander'.

If it's truly alone it is either too old, sickly or injured to fly with the herd and was left behind. Did you notice any injuries? If not, it might seem unwell because it is lonely.

If he pecks you, I'm sure it'll do less damage than the monster book,

Gene

Petunia's mind focused on one phrase out of the whole letter: left behind.

An image of Severus and Lily flashed through her mind, both of them looking at her while she was standing on the outside. Dumbledore's rejection echoed in her mind, the words she couldn't forget, telling her she would never be special. Always alone.

There was no-one on her side and she didn't belong in Lily's new world. She was left behind while her little sister went on to have magical adventures with other magical people, people who suited her better. Kind and special people, not jealous and boring ones like Petunia.

The little monster was left behind … just like her.

It was lonely … just like her.

Even though she had never wanted to admit it to herself, deep down Petunia knew that this was the truth. She had been left behind because she wasn't good enough. She was alone not by choice but because no one wanted her.

Petunia didn't know how long she simply sat there and stared at the letter when a hoot startled her from her thoughts. Looking up she found herself the focus of intense golden eyes.

She might be all alone, but she had somehow managed to find answers anyhow. There was someone who had been willing to talk and write to her, willing to help her, no matter how unreal the thought felt to her.

"You're waiting for a reply?"

The owl hooted again. Feeling a strange calm descend on her, Petunia penned a quick note with none of her usual care and secured it on the bird's leg.

Eugene, thank you for taking the time to reply. Your bird is quite intelligent and deserves his treats.

If he pecks out my eyes, I'm suing you still,

Petunia

She found the little monster in the gap between two roots, nestled against a mossy tree trunk. It looked fragile and alone, as if it would simply disappear once Petunia took her eyes off it.

Petunia felt … lost. Truthfully, she had only bothered about the little monster because its existence meant that her own existence was special. Even when Petunia had been determined to find out more about it, it hadn't been so she could understand and care for it - she only wanted to know if it would be dangerous for her to approach it. She wanted reaffirmation that she was unique. Even when she first saw its spindly appearance she hadn't felt pity or wondered why it was so thin. She had simply thought it looked creepy.

Her whole motivation had been selfish and possessive. She hadn't wanted to tell anyone about it, even if it might have endangered it. She had wanted to approach the little monster for herself, always wanting to see it to reassure herself that there was something special about her.

When she looked at it now … she didn't feel special. She felt wretched.

This was still a life. Petunia was always resentful about how people treated her, but the way she behaved was even worse.

Slowly lowering herself to the ground, she said. "I'm sorry."

It might have been the first time in her life she apologised by her own accord.

The little monster twitched in response to her voice, slowly lifting its head. Its already dull eyes looked even more lifeless than usual.

Petunia's throat was tight. She had never apologised sincerely and didn't know what else to say.

"I'll take care of you, okay? Truly. And I won't let you be alone again."

She knew that the little monster couldn't understand her, but the words were more for herself anyway. A promise she intended to keep. Steeling her resolve, she ignored its corpse-like appearance and horrifying teeth and slowly approached it.

The little monster only reacted when her shaking fingers hesitantly touched its skin, which felt slippery and cold. The little monster clacked its teeth at her and Petunia did her best not to flinch away.

Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears. "It's okay, I don't want to hurt you. You're very cold, it must be uncomfortable."

Slowly unwinding the scarf from her neck she carefully draped the blue wool over its thin body. The little monster twitched its hooves as if it was thinking of kicking the scarf away, but let it be in the end.

Sitting down, she tried not to shiver. The sun would go down soon, but she didn't want to leave yet. Not because she liked feeling special, but because she was worried.

"I'll bring some food next time. You like ham, right? I also have canned sausages at home. They're sometimes served with breakfast, but I don't especially like them."

The little monster seemed to listen to her voice, slowly lowering its head and relaxing. Petunia kept talking until she ran out of things to say, the sky turning dark. Her mother scolded her when she finally went home, shivering with cold.

The next day she kept her promise, going into the forest as soon as school was over. She found the little monster where she had left it, still covered by her scarf. Petunia fed it a few sausages and brought more the next day.

Three days later, she saw the little monster at the edge of the forest, waiting for her.

Ten days later, it followed her home.

Petunia learned many new things about the little monster. It liked to follow her around when she was outside and if it wanted to run it would nip at her heels. Once Petunia started walking faster it pranced next to her, throwing its terrifying head in delight. It also liked to be touched, especially its thin neck and chest. The touch should be careful stroking, as anything heavier seemed uncomfortable to its cold, rubbery skin. The only part it wanted to be vigorously scratched was the place the flimsy mane grew out of. It didn't like when Petunia got too close to its thin stomach, and while it allowed her to touch its legs and wings, it didn't seem to especially enjoy it.

After a few trial and errors Petunia figured that it ate meat, almost exclusively and no matter the type or quality. But its favourite seemed to be chicken.

If it wanted to appear bigger and imposing it would flap its wings open and stretch them high above its head. Petunia had seen this only once, when a neighbourhood dog had come too close to her. The little monster had lowered its head, raised its wings and made a strange sound somewhere between a neigh and a hiss.

She started taking daily walks with the little monster after school. As she couldn't take the little monster up to her room, Petunia had ventured into their old garden shed and cleaned out an area where she built a small nest out of old tarps. The little monster usually slept there but spent the rest of its time outside, waiting on her route to school or playing in the forest by itself.

Petunia was quite surprised when one day after her walk she returned to her room and saw a big owl sitting outside her window.

She hadn't expected another letter - she hadn't asked a question in her last one and she couldn't fathom that someone would write her without a need to reply.

Maybe he wants compensation for his help. Petunia felt sure in her guess, after all he had to have a reason to contact her.

Not giving herself any time to think about it further, Petunia opened the window and took the letter fastened to the owl's leg before quickly ripping it open.

Petals,

Of course he's a clever bird, he was raised by yours truly after all.

Blinking, Petunia read on.

How did it go with the Thestral? You can't tell only half of the story. You might not know, but people have money riding on this. There's not much in the way of entertainment around here if you're not a huge fan of Quidditch.

Good luck with the lawsuit,

Gene

Petunia read the few sentences twice more, before heavily sitting down at her desk. She felt strange, a part of her was actually disappointed that her expectations weren't met - she had been sure the letter would contain some request other than for her to tell him what happened. Another part of her was quietly elated, and that scared her much more.

She shouldn't build expectations for people, only for them to never meet them. The boy was overly casual, maybe helpful, but still a wizard. Not someone that she could ever understand or … befriend.

In truth, some of Petunia's loneliness was self-inflicted. She was prickly and easily peeved and didn't want to cater to anyone, because she felt she should look out for herself as no one else did. The first few years in school she hadn't bothered to make friends, because she spent all her time playing with Lily - who was much prettier and nicer than her classmates anyway. When Lily discovered her magic and the sister's relationship broke apart, Petunia was already isolated.

She had tried once or twice to build a connection with some girls her age, but each time it failed, either because they couldn't stand Petunia or because Petunia felt they didn't live up to her image of what a friend should be.

The fantasy of a penpal had actually been something she idolised, because it meant she wouldn't have to be directly involved. She didn't have to face anyone, a safe barrier of ink and paper between her and her potential friend.

Folding Eugene's letter closed, Petunia hesitated for a second.

He's a wizard, she reminded herself. But even though he had magic, like Lily, Petunia strangely didn't feel as resentful of him. Maybe because she had never compared herself with him or maybe it was because he hadn't flaunted his magic in front of her, she couldn't really say.

Opening yourself up is just asking to get hurt.

Petunia considered for a moment. Maybe she wouldn't open herself up then. Just treat it as a casual correspondence, a hobby to pass the time - exchanging letters with a wizard. She wouldn't invest any emotions or hope into it.

Coming to a decision, she picked up a pen and began formulating a response, retelling how she had found the little monster again.

And if she never got another reply, she wouldn't take it to heart.