Chapter 16: Really Dead
"Your parents are dead," Dumbledore concluded, his bright blue eyes looking sad.
Lily had already been in the room when Petunia had stepped in. James was with her.
Under any other circumstances, Petunia would have felt a stab of resent, anger and jealousy, at the sight of James holding a crying Lily.
But right now that wasn't the most important thing she had to deal with. Dumbledore's statement had wiped all feelings, all emotions from her. She looked at him. Her parents couldn't be dead. It wasn't true. Petunia was a sensible girl, and thinking it over with surprising calm, she came to the conclusion that it wouldn't make sense at all if mum and dad were dead.
They were in perfect health when she had seen them last. They had no enemies. Their work was safe and had nothing to do with politics or any other dangerous matter. They couldn't be dead.
"No, they're not," Petunia stated.
She felt Professor McGonagall place a hand on her shoulder. For comfort or to ensure that she stayed calm, Petunia wondered dully. Lily stared at her, a mixture of disgust and hope on her face. It was obvious that Lily wanted to believe her little sister, looked to her with admiration, and at the same time was sure she was lying. Petunia felt an odd twinge at the reversal of their roles for a moment.
"Miss Evans," Dumbledore began, " I understand that this is not only sudden and unexpected, but also most distressing for you and your sister. But, unfortunately, it's true. And the circumstances make it inevitable that you should find out who did this immediately. Perhaps you girls have valuable information for us."
Petunia looked up. They weren't dead.
"Prove it," she spoke with contempt, "Show me the bodies."
Dumbledore sighed. He really was quite old. If anyone could think of dying, it was he, Petunia thought malevolently.
"Alright, then. Minerva, would you kindly bring the girls over here. Mr. Potter..."
"No. I'm not leaving. There's no way. Never in a million years. This is a... these are two girls that I would give my life for. And I won't see them go through this alone. I stay."
Dumbledore just nodded tiredly.
"No, you wouldn't," Petunia muttered, but no one paid her any attention.
Professor McGonagall led the two girls and James over to what appeared to be a Portkey in the shape of an odd silver instrument. Everyone save McGonagall touched it, and they were off.
When they reappeared, they were standing in front of the Evans' residence. Or what it once had been. It was burned, a pile of ashes, the grass singed, what was left of the house charcoal-black.
Lily began to cry even harder, and James kissed her forehead tenderly. He looked over to Petunia, and must have decided that she did not want his attention right then.
Petunia barely noticed. She was shocked. What could have happened? In her logical thinking earlier, she had not even considered natural disasters such as fires.
"Come with me," Dumbledore said.
Petunia, Lily and James followed apprehensively. There were wizards standing everywhere. Petunia recognized them as Aurors by their robes.
Finally they reached what had been her parents' bedroom. There, still in the bed where they had died, lay Mr. and Mrs. Evans. In her hand, Petunia's mother held something. A picture. A photograph of Lily.
At the sight of her dead parents, Lily began to cry even louder, holding on to James as though letting go of him would be her death, too.
James looked at the sight, unsure of what to do or say.
"Lily, I love you," he managed. Then he looked over at Petunia.
"You, too, 'Tunia," he spoke quietly, but Petunia heard him. She didn't care. James was a thing of the past. She turned her back.
Petunia felt like crying, but no tears would come. Instead she found herself shouting and screaming and ranting and raving. She screamed and screamed, not only about her parents, but also about Luisa and about James and about anything that was wrong with her life. Everything. Petunia lost it completely right there, in the ruins of the house she had grown up in, in the company of a school professor, her sister and her lost love. Perhaps she wasn't even making intelligible sounds, perhaps those horrific, animalistic screams were truly emanating from her own body. And she didn't care.
No one could make out anything she was saying, only that she was sad and outraged and that she couldn't control herself anymore.
And suddenly there was black. A calm, cool darkness enveloped her and she fell, fell, she was floating, the world was at peace, everything would be all right.
When she awoke, Petunia was being held in a warm embrace. Familiar, muscular arms were cradling her. She snuggled closer. This was the way things were supposed to be. She was drowsy. Then, suddenly, the memories came flooding back to her. James. Luisa. Her parents.
Petunia jumped out of the enveloping heat, and instantly felt cold. Her head was throbbing most unpleasantly.
"You," she snarled.
Next to her stood James. They were in the Hospital Wing and Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. Petunia looked around at her surroundings. On the next bed over lay Lily.
"Yes, me," James said sounding weary and torn. "I'm sorry it couldn't have been someone else. So sorry."
He hung his head, and his shame seemed so real that Petunia hesitated with her tirade, just for a moment. Someone stepped into the room.
James kissed Petunia's cheek and stepped away from her bed, back to Lily's. This was it. Petunia touched her cheek, and knew, finally, for the first time that this was really over. What was between James and Lily was real, it was special, it was right. She, Petunia, was not meant to have anything, she was meant to lead a cursed life. And she was fulfilling her destiny. Petunia sighed, and might have stayed in bed apathetically for a very long time had Dumbledore not strode over to the beds at that instant.
"Miss Evans," he said, addressing Petunia, "please come with me. I feel it is time for me to tell you of the circumstances in which your parents died. Your sister has already heard. I fear you were in no state to hear the news at that point. So now will do."
Petunia swallowed and followed him from the room. Her yelling could wait a little longer, but she could feel the anger bubbling just beneath the surface once again, just like molten lava, laying dormant in a volcano, awaiting the right moment to spew forth, destroying and burning and killing.
This had better be quick.