Chapter 18: Thoughts of Revenge
When she awoke, Petunia lay back in the hospital bed next to Lily. It was morning, and Lily had just woken. She was talking to James in hushed tones. Apparently she was telling him what she had learned from Dumbledore.
Petunia felt a twinge of jealousy and hurt. She should be the one James was holding while she poured her heart out to him.
But these feelings were pushed to the back of her brain by other thoughts. Thoughts of her parents.
Her father had betrayed her and her mother to an awful wizard. But, of this she was sure, her father had been tortured and threatened before he agreed to work with them, and had died in a final attempt to save his wife.
It wasn't her father's fault. It was this Lord Voldemort who had killed them.
Tears filled Petunia's hazel eyes. A small sob escaped her lips. Neither Lily nor James looked over towards her. A part of her was grateful. It was none of their business if she was crying. But another, bigger part felt resentful. James should notice. James should care. Hell, Lily should care. She was her big sister, wasn't she?
Petunia put her head in her hands. Why them? Why couldn't it have been someone else?
She lay back on her bed as silent tears ran down her cheeks; her mind was filled with happy memories of her parents.
The time she had fallen out of a tree when she and Lily were home alone and her father had had to come home from work because she was crying so much that Lily had called him.
Or the time she and her mother and Lily had gone shopping and her mother had bought her a wonderful, black dress. Petunia had put it on and stood looking into the mirror. Her mother had looked her in the eye.
“You look beautiful, dear,” she had said.
Or the time the family had gone on a picnic and Lily had been afraid of all the bugs, which Petunia then squished. Her father had called her his brave little girl.
Or the time…
The list went on and on and on.
Never before had Petunia appreciated what wonderful people her parents were. How much they had loved her. How much she had loved them.
Petunia hoped they had known. Known that though Petunia didn't tell them childishly that she loved them as much as the ocean, that not only Lily loved her parents. Petunia hoped they had known that their other daughter, sulking in the shadows, had loved them too. Now it was too late to tell them.
In her life, there had only ever been four people she had really loved. Luisa she had loved; still loved, as a friend. James she had loved, oh who was she kidding, still loved, as a man. And her mum and dad, Petunia had loved as parents, as family.
Petunia couldn't think clearly, couldn't move. Even breathing had become difficult. One thought reverberated in her head, over and over again.
“They're gone. Really gone. Forever.”
Petunia didn't know how long she lay in the comfortable, warm, hospital bed. Didn't take in her surroundings, and never knew whether she was awake or asleep.
Days could have passed, or just a few hours.
Finally, Petunia woke to find herself thirstier than she had ever been in her life.
She turned over with effort, and found herself looking into the worried face of Madame LaBouche, the school nurse.
“Do you…” she croaked, her voice cracking, still hoarse from the screaming. She couldn't have been abed for too long, then...
“Do you have…”
Madame LaBouche hurried over to her bedside.
“I expect you're starving!” she exclaimed, “but at least you're awake. It's been two days, dear. I'll be right back with something for the throat ache. I know that peacefulness draught is murder on the throat!”
When Madame LaBouche came back, she carried a platter full of every food Petunia liked. And some she didn't like, but after eating nothing for so long, anything looked good.
After eating her fill, drinking two tall glasses of water, and swallowing the soothing potion Madame LaBouche handed her, Petunia looked around. The pain inside of her had not dulled, not in the least. But she no longer wanted to sit around crying and not eating. That was not enough. Petunia wanted to act. Soon. She wanted revenge.
Lord Voldemort had killed her parents. She would kill him. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It was as simple as that.
With this thought, Petunia stepped out of the bed she had been laying in. But she fell right back in. Weak from not moving and not eating for too long, she decided revenge would have to wait then. Not for long, though, only until she had her strength back.
While Petunia was forming thoughts of revenge, the nurse had been examining her.
"Ready to leave as soon as you've taken this last dose of medicine," she pronounced. "There now, that didn't taste too awful. You may go, Miss Evans. Just one more word of advice, dear. I know that you feel very sad and confused, but don't kill yourself over it. Life has to go on, even if you don't want it to. Even magic can't stop time. That's all, you may go back up to school, Miss Evans."
Petunia turned mutely and walked out of the hospital wing.
Only one thing could make her pain less right then, and that was planning revenge. Even if it did kill her.
Maybe, if she said that over Christmas Break she was going to visit Luisa... yes... then she would actually go and find Lord Voldemort... and then what? And how would she know where to find him? And how would she kill him?
Well how she would kill him, she wouldn't think about until the time came. After all, she was quite a powerful witch, many of her teachers had said that. But this would be so much easier if she had someone to work with... oh why was Luisa not here?
She needed an accomplice. But who?
Just then two people came down the hall, holding hands.
Maybe… no… but… yes!
Pushing all of her doubts aside, Petunia called out.