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Author: GhostWriter Story: Through the Looking Glass Rating: Everyone Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 5 Words: 28,060
Disclaimer: I don’t own it, more’s the pity. No money’s being made here and no copyright infringement is intended. *** Petunia Dursley gazed vacantly at the emptiness around her and shifted slightly in the leather armchair. Vernon sat a few feet away, slumped in his chair, while Dudley was wandering about – stopping occasionally to peer into the mirrors suspended in midair. How long had they been trapped in this Godforsaken spot – days, months? They at first had ignored the advice of Lily and her cohorts and spent considerable time trying to find either a way back to their old lives or, failing that, something – anything – that was remotely warm and human. After wandering about aimlessly past an endless array of the floating mirrors, Vernon had bellowed in frustration and tried to smash one of the confounded objects. He’d pounded the smooth dark surface until his knuckles were raw, and finally was rewarded with a blast of light that hit him square in the chest and sent him tumbling to the ground. He’d struggled to rise for a few seconds before slumping back to the ground, apparently deciding all hope was lost. As Petunia moved to comfort him, Vernon began muttering about “freaks,” and “that Potter creep,” and vowing that one way or another they’d rue the day they crossed a Dursley. As Vernon sank into his own reality, Petunia and Dudley tried to get as comfortable as possible on the ground. They made a few half-hearted stabs at conversation, but soon lapsed into silence. All three of them had jumped when the armchairs had appeared out of nowhere. Vernon had warned them not to touch anything sent by the weirdos but finally had followed his wife’s lead and taken a seat. The thought ran through Petunia’s head that perhaps her sister was responsible for this little gift. It was the least Lily could do, she mused to herself. If she hadn’t married that freak James Potter and borne his child, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Petunia leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and let her mind drift back through the years. It was her first day of school, second form. A seven-year-old Petunia eyed herself critically in her bureau mirror. She wore a knee-length yellow dress, and as she brushed her short blonde hair, she was trying to decide between white and yellow hair ribbons. She smiled to herself as she thought about meeting Martha and Janie for the short walk to school. A noise startled her, causing her to turn from the bureau. Five-year-old Lily giggled as she leaned against the doorframe. “Whatcha doing, Pet?” she asked, her green eyes flashing. Petunia frowned. “Pet” was her parents’ nickname for her, and she didn’t like for Lily to use it but decided to let is pass. “Just getting ready for school,” Petunia replied, starting again to brush her hair. Lily bounced into the room and plopped down on the bed. “Is it gonna be fun?” she asked. A smile played on Petunia’s lips. “Of course,” she replied. “They say Mrs. Harvey always chooses one boy and one girl to be her special helpers for the year. I’m sure she’s going to choose me.” Lily hopped off the bed and came to the bureau as Petunia continued brushing her hair. Lily picked up the yellow ribbons and held them to her bright-red hair. “Oooh, pretty,” she said, with a squealing giggle. Petunia reached over and smacked the younger girl’s left hand. “Put those down, I’m going to use them!” Lily laughed again and began trying to fashion pigtails for herself with the ribbons. Petunia put down her brush and grabbed for the ribbons. “Give them to me, now!” she snapped. Lily giggled and zipped across the room. “Can’t catch me!” she shouted and then shot down the hall. “Mum!” Petunia shouted, dashing after her sister. “Mum! Lily’s got my ribbons. Make her give them back!” Lily’s laughter rang out as she headed for the kitchen, where their mother was frying bacon and eggs. Petunia burst into the kitchen, just as her sister ducked under the table. “Mum! She’s got my ribbons! Make her give them back to me!” Anne Evans sighed and turned down the heat under the eggs. “Lily,” she said. “Give those ribbons back to your sister.” Lily giggled and scrambled further under the table. Petunia’s face grew red. “Mum! She’s got into my stuff again! Do something!” Anne Evans crossed the kitchen and knelt by the table. “Young lady, come out from under there and give your sister those ribbons at once!” Lily crawled out from under the table, smiling impishly, and handed the ribbons to her mother. But Petunia was just getting wound up. “Mum! Punish her! She’s always doing things like this to me!” Mrs. Evans eyed her older daughter for a moment before handing her ribbons. “I don’t think this qualifies as a major tragedy. Don’t be so melodramatic. Besides, these ribbons don’t match that dress.” Petunia’s eyes widened as she gazed at the ribbons, which were now scarlet. “Mum, I picked yellow ribbons. Lily’s hidden them somewhere. Make her give them to me.” But Mrs. Evans was now focusing on the younger girl. “Go wash up for breakfast, and be quick about,” she said, giving Lily a light pop on the bottom, causing the girl to giggle again and sprint from the kitchen. Petunia stamped her foot angrily. “Mum! You always let her get away with things! Why don’t you punish her?” Mrs. Evans reached out and took her daughter’s hand. “Petunia, you really shouldn’t let Lily get under your skin like this. I know she gets into your things, but honestly, she’s not trying to be mean. She does it because she wants you to pay attention to her, and she wants to be like you. Haven’t you ever noticed how she tries to dress like you and do the things that you like to do? It’s because she loves you and looks up to you.” Petunia stamped her foot again. “You always take her side!” she said before sprinting back to her room and slamming the door. *** .... Nine-year-old Petunia sat happily at the piano in the living room, picking her way through the “Sleeping Beauty Waltz.” Her parents and grandparents were seated in comfortable armchairs drawn up around the piano. Petunia’s fingers danced lightly over the ivory keys, only stumbling occasionally; causing all of the adults to smile. Her hours of practice were paying off; she really had a nice feel for the instrument. In the background, Lily pranced and pirouetted in time to the melody. She took a small leap and landed with a soft thump, earning her a glare from Petunia and a smile and a wink from her grandfather. Lily grinned back and continued her twirling. One-by-one, all of the adults noticed the younger girl’s performance and offered a few subtle signs of encouragement. Suddenly Petunia slammed her hands down on the keyboard, causing everyone to start and Lily to freeze in mid-twirl. “Stop it!” she snarled at her sister. “You’re ruining my recital. Why do you always have to butt into everything I do?! Why can’t you just go away?” A hurt look appeared on Lily’s face and tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry, Petunia. I wasn’t trying to mess anything up. I was just dancing.” Tom Evans rose from his seat. “Pet,” he said. “Don’t be upset. Lily’s not trying to interfere.” His words only enraged Petunia further. “Just like always! You’re taking her side. I know you all love her better than me. Little perfect Lily! Always everybody’s favorite.” Petunia broke off and ran from the room. Seconds later, her bedroom door slammed. Lily was now sobbing openly. “Come here, dear,” her grandmother said, pulling the little red-head onto her lap. Tom Evans shook his head, and then walked down the hallway to his oldest daughter’s bedroom. He paused before knocking on the door. “Go away!” came a wavering voice from inside. Mr. Evans gently pushed the door open. Petunia lay sprawled across the bed, her face buried in a pillow. Mr. Evans crossed the room and gently sat down beside her. “Pumpkin,” he said softly. Petunia refused to look up. Mr. Evans laid a hand on her shoulder, slowly rolled her over and gazed into her tear-stained face. “What’s the matter?” he asked. Petunia jutted out her lower lip. “Lily always tries to be better than me,” she said. “And I know everybody likes her better. You think she’s prettier and smarter than me. She always messes up my stuff, and you and Mum never do anything to her for it. She gets away with everything.” Mr. Evans was startled by such venom coming from one so young. “Pumpkin,” he said again. “Your Mum and I, and Grandpa and Nana all love you very much. We love you just as much as we love Lily. I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Petunia stared at him for a moment. “But Lily...” Her father cut her off. “Please, sweetheart, don’t be angry with Lily or jealous of her. Your sister loves you too. She wants to be like...” “I know, I know, precious little Lily wants to be just like me,” Petunia said angrily. “That’s what Mum always says whenever I get mad at Lily. Why does she always have to be such a pain? And why does everybody always want to be with her? Grandpa and Nana always give her more hugs and spend more time with her.” Mr. Evans hesitated. “Pet, have you ever considered that’s because Lily gives them more hugs? She hangs all over them – hangs all over our whole family. You don’t go for that. You’re quieter. I don’t think you should be anyone other than who you are, but you need to open up to people a little more. “You’re smart. You’re fun to talk to, when you want to be. But a lot of times, when you don’t get exactly what you want, you clam up and pout. You need to be warm. I know you can be, if you just will. Please, please, don’t be angry. Remember that your Mum and I will love you forever. Please don’t close yourself off.” Petunia stared at her father for a moment, then reached up and hugged him fiercely. Mr. Evans put his arms around her and slowly rocked her back and forth. *** ... Petunia smiled as she finished wrapping the box of hair ribbons. They were a present for Lily – an 11th birthday present. It was a bright summer day, and Petunia was feeling very fond of her sister. The little red-head had grown up a lot in the past four years. If she was honest with herself, Petunia realized she’d done a bit of growing up herself over the past two years, ever since she’d started at St. Margaret’s Boarding School for Girls. Lily would be starting there this fall, and Petunia had to admit she was looking forward to it. Now she’d have her sister to herself, and could look forward leaving her stamp on Lily. Petunia smiled again as she fluffed the pink bow atop the gift. She then headed down the hall and to the kitchen, enjoying the aroma of frying eggs and bacon. Mr. Evans was sitting at the table drinking coffee and reading the paper, while his wife put the finishing touches on breakfast. She took the eggs off the stove as Petunia laid her present next to several others at Lily’s spot on the table. “Lily! Breakfast!” Mrs. Evans called. The sound of heels clicking on hardwood floors rang out as Lily skipped down the hall and into the kitchen. “Good morning Mum and Dad, Petunia,” she chirped. “Happy Birthday, baby,” Mr. Evans said, rising and giving her a hug. Mrs. Evans wrapped her arms around Lily and kissed her on the forehead. “Happy Birthday.” Lily’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you, Mummy and Daddy.” Petunia walked around the table and hugged her sister. “Happy Birthday,” she whispered in Lily’s ear. Lily pulled back and gazed into the older girl’s eyes. “Thanks,” she said shyly. Her gaze then turned to the pile of gifts at her place. “Presents!” she said gleefully, heading toward the stack. But Mrs. Evans was too quick for her. “Breakfast first,” she declared. Petunia and her father burst out laughing at Lily’s crestfallen expression. She perked up, however, when her mother dished bacon, eggs and fried apples onto a plate for her. Soon all four were sitting around the table talking, laughing and eating. Petunia smiled inwardly as Lily shoveled down her food, almost prancing in her eagerness to get to the presents. Petunia appreciated the enthusiasm – who didn’t live for presents? – but tut-tutted silently, thinking she’s have to work on her sister’s table manners once they got to school. “Presents,” Lily giggled, holding up her polished plate for her parents to inspect. “OK, baby,” he mother said. With a squeal, Lily tore into the pile of gifts. There was a diary from her parents, as well as a beautiful ivory comb and brush set. Her grandparents had sent a beautiful gold, heart-shaped locket that could hold tiny photos. Petunia’s heart swelled with pride as the wrapping was torn from her gift, and Lily sprinted around the table and gave her sister a huge hug. “Thanks, thanks so much, Pet,” Lily whispered. “They’re beautiful.” Petunia smiled and patted her sister on the back. “You’re welcome,” she replied. “Maybe I’ll have to borrow them at school.” Just then there was a knock at the front door. Mr. and Mrs. Evans glanced at the kitchen clock and then each other. It was still a bit early for visitors. Mr. Evans headed into the front room as the girls continued looking at Lily’s presents. After a few moments, their father returned to the kitchen, with a rather shocked look on his face. Accompanying him was the strangest looking man Petunia had ever seen. He had grey hair down to his shoulders and a beard that fell halfway to his waist. He had a long, crooked nose, and his twinkling eyes gazed at the family over a pair of half-moon spectacles. He was dressed in a natty, double-breasted midnight-blue suit; along with a green necktie that seemed to be embroidered with planets, moons and stars. “This is Professor Dubble... Duble...” “Dumbledore,” the man said with a smile. “He’s come to talk to us about Lily,” Mr. Evans said, a bewildered look on his face. “Won’t you sit down? Can I get you some tea?” Mrs. Evans asked stiffly. “Yes, thank you,” Dumbledore said, taking a seat next to Lily, who stared at him in fascination. “Now,” Dumbledore, said, fixing them all with a benign look. “I’ve come here to deliver some news that probably will be a bit of a shock.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cream-colored envelope covered with a bright green script. “Happy Birthday, Miss Evans,” he said, handing the letter to Lily. Lily glanced warily at her father, who nodded. She took the envelope and began to read – Miss Lily Evans, No. 7, Knightsbridge Rd., Kensington. Lily opened the envelope, took out a thick piece of parchment and began to read. “What does it say, sweetheart?” Mrs. Evans asked. Lily hesitated again, this time looking to Dumbledore, who smiled and nodded. “Dear Miss Evans,” she began. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.” Lily finished reading and looked up at her family, who all gazed in amazement at her. Mrs. Evans turned to Dumbledore. “Is this some sort of joke?” she asked, not sounding very amused. Dumbledore smiled. “I assure you, it’s no joke,” he said. “This is often a surprise to families that have never produced a witch or a wizard. But it’s true, your daughter does indeed have strong magical ability and an education at Hogwarts will give her the chance to hone those skills and live up to her full potential. I can assure you of that, as I am the school’s headmaster.” “Wait a minute,” Mr. Evans said. “What do you mean haven’t ever produced a witch or wizard? Are you saying there are families composed entirely of witches and wizards?” Dumbledore smiled again. “Yes, Mr. Evans, that’s quite correct. Some families produce magical progeny like clockwork each generation. In other families the magical gift can skip one or even several generations. Members of other magical families intermarry with Muggles and produce both magical and non-magical children. “In the wizarding world, we have powerful detectors that can sense the birth of children who are sensitive to magic. We then monitor them until their 11th birthdays to see whether they can truly channel the power available to them. At that point, they are mature enough to begin their wizarding education, and they receive a letter inviting them to Hogwarts. Such notices usually arrive by owl post, but in cases such as this, a member of the Hogwarts faculty will deliver the letter in order to avoid frightening families not familiar with our world. I will confess we were a little surprised when Lily came to our attention, since neither you nor your wife appears to have any magical ancestors in your bloodlines.” Mrs. Evans shook her head. “This is impossible,” she said. “There’s no such thing as magic. And even if there was, surely we’d have seen some evidence of it.” “As a matter of fact, no,” Dumbledore replied. “Thousands of years ago, there was a rift between the magical and Muggle worlds. Wizards retreated to their world, concealing their use of magic through memory charms and other spells.” “Excuse me, ’Muggles’?” Mr. Evans asked. “Forgive me,” Dumbledore said. “‘Muggle’ is the wizarding term for non-magical folk.” Lily had remained silent throughout the exchange, continuing to stare at the white-haired wizard. “Show me some magic,” she said at last. Dumbledore smiled and pulled a polished wooden wand from his inner pocket. He tapped an empty vase at the center of the table, and an arrangement of flowers suddenly popped up. He then pointed his wand at Lily’s dress, and it immediately changed from light blue to dark green. “A bit better, I think,” he said. “Now it matches your eyes.” The whole family gaped at Dumbledore. Petunia’s jaw had dropped, and all color had drained from Mr. and Mrs. Evans’ faces. But a slow grin was spreading across Lily’s face. “When do I leave?” she asked excitedly. “Now wait just a minute, young lady,” Mrs. Evans interjected. “You’re not going anywhere. This has to be some sort of joke or a mistake.” “It’s no mistake,” Dumbledore said mildly. “Your daughter has a powerful magical aura about her. And though you may not have paid much attention, I’m sure that over the years she’s displayed bouts of what we call ‘accidental magic.’ Surely you can think of some unusual events involving her?” Petunia had been gazing into space, dumbstruck by the morning’s events. Now she snapped back to attention and spoke for the first time. “The ribbons. She changed the color of a bunch of hair ribbons she snagged from me. I had picked yellow, and when she turned them over to Mum, they were red.” Dumbledore nodded and smiled. “Yes, magical children often perform such little feats. Only after they reach the age of 10 or 11 do they begin to mature. Then they generally need a wand to focus their magical energy.” Mrs. Evans began shaking her head. “I just can’t believe all this. You show up here unannounced and tell us our daughter has this…gift? And now you want to take her away from us? What is this school where you’ll be taking her?” Dumbledore gave her a sympathetic look. “I realize this is a lot to take in so quickly. Hogwarts is an ancient school, founded more than 1,000 years ago by four of the greatest witches and wizards of all time. It’s a boarding school, not unlike the one your Petunia now attends, but which focuses on, shall we say, a more specialized field of learning. I attended it myself, as did most of our faculty. And I can promise you it is quite safe.” Mrs. Evans’ eyes were now watering, causing her husband to pull her close. “But you’d be taking our baby away from us. You’ll be taking her to a different world. She’ll change, I know it. I want her in my world.” Dumbledore reached out and tentatively patted her hand. “I cannot pretend that this won’t change things. The wizarding and Muggle worlds are, for the most part, separate. On the other hand, you’d be amazed at the number of our students who have at least one Muggle parent, and who passionately embrace both sides of their heritage. I can assure you that at Hogwarts we will not try to throw up barriers between you and your daughter.” Mr. Evans stared at Dumbledore for a moment and then spoke, his voice wavering. “What if we refuse to allow Lily to go?” he asked. “We cannot and would not try to force you to send her to Hogwarts. This is a decision that you and your daughter must make together. But I must tell you that as her magic grows and matures, it will manifest itself, even if she never learns to channel it with a wand. I sincerely believe the best way to make Lily whole is to let her put her gifts to good use.” Both parents simply gazed at him, and a silence hung over the kitchen. “Can I go with Lily?” Petunia asked, causing every head to turn in her direction. A pained look flickered across Dumbledore’s face. “I’m afraid that will be impossible,” he said softly. “You lack the magical gift your sister possesses. I’m sorry.” Petunia’s face grew red. “You’re just like all the others! Just like them,” she shouted, gesturing to her parents. “Everything’s all about Lily. Precious, perfect Lily, who always gets everything she wants and more. I guess she’ll be off flying magic carpets and forgetting about all of us.” Lily reached out to her sister. “Pet, please don’t be angry,” she said. “I didn’t ask for this. I’m just as surprised as you are.” Petunia snatched her hand away and turned an icy gaze on the younger girl. “You just always have to be different, don’t you? Always have to be the center of attention. Well, congratulations! Now everybody will have a real reason to notice you.” Lily’s eyes began to fill with tears. “That’s enough, Petunia,” Mr. Evans said sternly. “This is a huge shock, and you’re not going to make it worse for Lily.” “That’s right,” Petunia now screeched. “Coddle her just like you always do. You’ve spoiled her and spoiled her, and now we find out she’s not only a brat but a freak as well.” Petunia turned and sprinted from the kitchen, her own eyes beginning to sting. She burst into her bedroom, slammed the door behind her, flung herself onto the bed and began to sob. She didn’t know how long had passed when a gentle knock came at her door. “Go away,” she said. Another knock. “Would you just leave me alone,” she cried. Finally there was a click as the door opened, and a mass of red hair poked into the room. “May I come in?” Lily asked in a small voice. “No,” Petunia replied. “I don’t want to talk to you.” The younger girl ignored the jab and walked over to sit on the bed next to Petunia. Tears were spilling from Lily’s eyes as she gazed at her sister. Petunia stared back, and a leaden weight settled on her stomach. “You’re going, aren’t you?” she asked dully. Lily nodded silently. Petunia rolled over on her side, her back to Lily. “Have a nice life,” she said before squeezing her eyes shut to fight back the moisture. “Petunia, please don’t be angry with me,” Lily said brokenly. “I love you. I don’t want this to rip us apart.” “Leave me alone,” Petunia replied. “I don’t want to talk to you.” She shut her eyes tighter, and a moment later, heard the door click shut. The memories began to flow faster. …Riding with her parents to King’s Cross Station to see Lily off to school, watching her vanish through what appeared to be a solid stone wall… …Now it was the end of Lily’s first year at school. She’d returned home for summer holidays with a trunk filled with thick books, bottles full of vile-looking potion ingredients and was forever practicing silly-looking movements with her wand. The years passed with increasing speed. …Lily was fifteen and had returned home for another holiday. It was mid-afternoon on a warm summer’s day. Petunia was sitting on the living room couch, leafing through a magazine when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” she yelled, rising and sprinting lightly down the hall to the front door. She opened the front door to find herself face-to-face with a blond-haired girl clad in slacks and a button-down shirt. So far so good, but she had topped off the ensemble with a light-blue cloak. Petunia gazed at the girl in disgust. “Hi,” the young witch chirped, apparently oblivious to the look of loathing Petunia was shooting at her. “Is Lily home? I’m a friend of hers from Hogwarts.” “Lily, one of your people is here,” Petunia yelled over her shoulder. Lily came sprinting down the hall. “Melinda!” she squealed, pulling her friend into a warm embrace. Petunia rolled her eyes and retreated to the living room as the two girls headed back to Lily’s bedroom, whispering the whole way. Petunia tried to concentrate on Juke Box Jury, which was blaring from the telly, but it was impossible due to the giggles and whispers that kept drifting up the hall. Eventually Petunia heard footsteps and snatches of a conversation. “…but you’ve got to admit, he is rather dishy...” “Rubbish,” Lily replied. “James Potter is the most arrogant, egotistical git that school has seen in a blue moon. He thinks he’s so cute – running his hands through his hair, playing with that wretched Snitch all the time…” The two girls entered the living room. “We’re going out for some ice cream, Petunia. Want to come?” Lily asked the older girl. “I’ll pass, thanks,” Petunia replied, deliberately directing her gaze at the telly. There was a moment of silence. “Well, alright then,” Lily replied in a hurt voice. “See you later… Oh, I almost forgot, if you want to borrow my pink blouse for your date with Vernon, it’s lying at the foot of my bed. But please don’t bother the potion I’ve left aging on my desk. Bye, now.” The two girls left the room, and Petunia heard the front door close behind them. She tried to watch the telly for a bit longer, but finally gave up and decided to start getting ready for her date. She walked down the hall and pushed open the door to Lily’s room. There was the blouse on the bed, as Lily had promised. On her desk was a basin filled with a thick purple goo. Curious, Petunia walked to the desk to get a better look at the basin and its contents. The potion had a strong, though not altogether unpleasant aroma. As she bent over the container to study it, a large bubble suddenly rose from the middle of the brew and burst, spattering droplets all over Petunia’s face. Instantly, painful red hives erupted from her damp skin. “Mum!” Petunia screeched. “Mum, one of Lily’s wretched experiments has done it to me again…” The memory blurred and was replaced by another image. Once again, Petunia was sitting the living room watching the telly, when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” she called, heading to the front of the house. She opened the door and found herself face-to-face with a tall, raven-haired young man. Bright hazel eyes peered at her from behind wire-rim spectacles. He was quite handsome. This was the kind of scenery Petunia could get used to. The moment was shattered when he spoke. “Hi. I’m James Potter. Is Lily home?” Petunia shot the interloper a scathing look. “Just a minute,” she said curtly, before turning and heading to her sister’s room. She knocked on Lily’s door and then opened it immediately. Lily was stretched out on the bed, a quill in one hand and a sheet of parchment spread out before her. “There’s a freak here to see you. Says his name is James Potter.” Lily started before a huge smile broke out on her face. She bounded off the bed, grabbed a brush from her bureau and began to brush her hair. Petunia felt a grinding sensation in her stomach as she watched the spectacle. “I thought this was the fellow you couldn’t stand?” she asked. “Yes, well, James has matured in the last year,” Lily replied, tying her hair up in a ponytail. She started to head out of the room, but Petunia grabbed her by the arm. “Think about what you’re doing,” she hissed at the younger girl. “I can tell this one’s trouble. I’ve offered to set you up with a nice, normal bloke. Malcolm Gladwell is very interested in you. He’d like to take you out for a night on the town. He’s got very good prospects.” Lily jerked her arm from Petunia’s grip. “I don’t need you to manage my love life,” she replied, glaring daggers at her sister before moving quickly up the hall. “James!” Petunia heard her exclaim. “Hi, doll!” the young man replied… Petunia’s reverie was broken by a soft popping noise. She looked up into the eyes of her sister. Neither woman said anything for a moment. Finally, Lily held out her hand. “Come on, Petunia,” she said. “Let’s go for a little stroll.” “Where are you taking me?” Petunia replied, a fearful edge to her voice. “She’s not taking you anywhere!” Vernon Dursley bellowed, inserting himself between the two sisters. Lily shot the large man an icy gaze. In one fluid motion her wand was out and pointed at Vernon. He suddenly stiffened like a board and toppled over face first. Lily sheathed her wand and again held out her hand to Petunia. “Are you coming?” she asked. “Where are we going?” Petunia replied. “Somewhere we can talk uninterrupted,” Lily replied. “Or would you prefer to remain here?” Hesitantly, Petunia took her sister’s hand. They both vanished with a small pop.
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