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 orange 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.
Thanks for reading! ❀ Here's a picture of Krampus because he's the real star of this story ;)