There was music playing.
I could hear it even as I pulled my car up. It had a sweet, slow harmony. It sounded a bit haunting though, and made me feel slightly uneasy. I looked around, and wondered if I was at the right place, for there were very few other cars that I could see. Yet, as I peered in through the gate, I could see that this was definitely the right place. Crowds of people were standing around, talking amongst themselves, almost all of them wearing long robes to the floor. I had worn my best black velvet dress, one of the more expensive items I owned, but I felt ridiculous. Imagine, I was the one feeling ridiculous for wearing a normal dress. Some people were wearing hats several feet high, seeming as though they would fall off their head any minute, but they never did so much as wobble.
I cautiously walked through the tall iron gate, keeping my eyes on my shoes. My sister had described the things in the wizarding world after her first year at that school, but I had avoided her, and when we were in the same place, arguments tended to fill the room. I turned a deaf ear when she tried to tell me of the many wonders she had experienced.
I walked hesitantly into the crowd of people, standing there awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do. Something brushed by my side, I whirled around to find a small creature, no taller than my legs was standing there with bulbous eyes. Its large ears were what had brushed my leg, and it was wearing a brown crumpled paper bag, with three holes for its head and arms. “Elphie is so sorry, miss,” it said, nervously, backing away and wringing its hands. “Elphie didn’t mean it,” it said, before scurrying over to the side of a stooped old woman.
I slowly let out a breath that I had not even realized I had been holding in. I longed to be with my husband Vernon, and the pride of my life, my new baby boy, Dudley. I had to tell Vernon about my sister a week after we had married, how she was a, a witch. At first he could hardly speak, he thought I was crazy. He also seemed sure the baby boy with the jet black hair and that strange scar who had appeared on the doorstep at some time later was some horrible joke of mine. I don't joke. Jokes are ridiculous and juvenile. Once he realized it was true, he was outraged that I had never told him. He’s still not quite speaking to me. Dudley is the only thing that’s holding us together, if it weren’t for him, I would be at some lousy hotel with that little boy, Harry.
"Would you please sit down, ladies and gentlemen?" a large man dressed in sweeping black robes drolled. The idiot, what poor planning, there were hardly any chairs that I could see-- Oh! Faster than I could blink, hundreds of ornate benches appeared out of thin air. No one seemed to find this as much of a spectacle as I did. They sat down calmly, as though benches appearing out of nothing occurred everyday. I took place on an empty bench, but I had hardly sat down when the bench crumbled beneath me. I knew these 'magic' benches couldn't have worked properly.
"'M sorry, 'm sorry! I didn' mean ter!" I turned my head sharply at the sound of the pitiful blubbering next to me. A gigantic brute of a man was sobbing into a minuscule handkerchief, sitting on a heap of broken wood. He looked like an enlarged version of a caveman. I quickly got up and moved myself to another bench, for fear that the giant was dangerous. For the second time, I wished Vernon was with me. He could defend me properly, he could keep me safe.
"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?"
I turned around and nodded mutely at the young man standing. He sat beside me, placing his head in his hands. I couldn't decipher his age, for though his hair was greying, and the bags under his eyes seemed darker than his black robes, his face conveyed youth. His eyes portrayed the fear of a young child, though they also showed the sorrow of an old man. He looked tired, so tired. His eyes were hidden by his hands, and I wondered if he were sleeping. The sleeves of his robes were pushed up, and I gasped at the long scar that stood out on his arm. He looked up, and saw me staring. I blushed as he winced, and tugged his sleeves back to his hands.
I pursed my lips and looked him over. His robes were black, though they weren't magnificent as the large man's had been: Though they were perfectly clean, they were patched in many places, and still ripped in others. I felt dapper in comparison. He caught me looking disdainfully at his clothes and he turned away. "They're my best robes," he muttered.
He pulled his knees up to his chest, and I felt a little appalled at this childish action. He placed his head on his knees: It seemed as if he were unable to keep it up by himself, as if he were already so burdened that he couldn't even keep his head held up. I moved slightly away from him.
As more people were walking to sit down, he asked me, with his head still buried, "How do you know them?"
I looked down at my hands, as though they could encourage me to speak. "She was my sister."
He lifted his head, and looked at me curiously. "So you're Petunia?" he asked me curiously. I nodded, for some reason at a loss for words. His curious look instantly slipped off his face and was once again filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry," he told me with great sincerity. I nodded my thanks, all I could do was nod. He continued to look at me for another moment, and I threw his own question back at him.
"How do you know them?" I asked, the words stiff in my mouth.
He paused, before answering. "They were my best friends."
I couldn't reply. It seemed as if he was much closer to them than I was. Truthfully, I had only met the boy twice. And I hadn't regarded Lily as family for a while now. I looked back at the young man, and he had his face buried away again.
His sorrow was enough for the both of us.
"Hello," a voice came from my other side. When I turned, it was a young woman sitting next to me, but she wasn't looking at me, but the man to my other side.
He raised his head, and said "Hi, Mary," before returning it to its usual position.
The woman now turned to me and stuck out her hand. "Mary Macdonald," she stated.
"Petunia Dursley," I replied, an inkling of pride coming through at the sound of my surname. No longer Evans.
Mary raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. She turned towards the front, where the large man with the sweeping black robes was tapping his, his wand at us all to obtain our attention. He had it. I didn't hear much of what he said, even though he spoke into his wand, using it as a microphone. I found myself automatically not listening, not paying attention. My eyes were glazed over, as they had been every time Lily had tried to share her experiences with me. In the beginning, in the very beginning I had tried to join her. I had even sent a letter to that old man! Begging him to let me in! Foolish wishes, desperate ideas. That wasn't the first time jealousy had struck. Even when she was younger I had been jealous of her. She managed to make friends everywhere she went, while I struggled to be friends with people I had known for years.
At least I had Vernon, while she had that ridiculous boy. James. James was definitely not the type one would want for a husband. He was hopelessly immature, I noticed the very few times I had ever been in his presence. His hair was never combed straight, his shirt never seemed to be tucked in. Though I will admit, he was definitely in love with her. He followed her around like a foolish puppy dog, and before I met Vernon, I was even a bit jealous of that. Though I certainly wasn't jealous of that other boy, the greasy one who lived on Spinners End.
I came out of my glaze to sit up straighter, and looked around to see if he was there. I remember the day he had come and knocked on our door, and went into the kitchen to find Lily and James together at the kitchen table. That was the first time she had invited James over summer break. The Snape boy had run out of the house. James had raised his eyebrows and said, "I didn't know he lived around here." I could see that my sister was embarrassed and didn't know what to say. James then looked at me and asked, fighting a smile, "He your boyfriend, Tuney?" I stalked out of the room, but I could still hear Lily saying, "Oh James, don't." He always used my sister's childhood nickname on me, no matter how much he saw I disliked it.
As I was looking around for Snape, I noticed that the man sitting next to me was gripping his own arms hard enough to make his knuckles turn white, his jaw was clenched tightly, and his eyes were firmly shut, as if he was trying to hold himself in.
"Are you alright?" I asked him, he was certainly acting a bit foolish, as though he didn't know, or care, that everyone else could see the way he was acting.
He opened his eyes and glared at me. "I'm not a little kid, Tuney," he said quietly.
I gasped. Had he been reading my mind, reading the memory I had just been recalling? Could wizards read minds? How dare he trespass into my own brain! He was encroaching my right to private thought. "Were you just reading my mind?" I demanded of him.
He looked confused. "What?"
"You knew that...some people called me Tuney."
He sighed. "James is my best friend, remember?"
"Was."
"Sorry?"
"James was your best friend."
He stared at me. "You're right. Was." His lower lip trembled for an instant. "My friends are all gone now," he spoke, his voice quivering. "They're all either dead," he looked a bit hysterical now. "Or in Azkaban."
I looked around nervously, scared someone might hear him causing a disruption, but no one could hear him over the man speaking into his wand and the giant of a man, still blubbering loudly into his handkerchief.
I knew what Azkaban was, the jail for wizards. One of his friends was in there? That probably meant that the man in Azkaban was Lily's friend too.
"Azkaban?" I asked him. "One of your friends is in Azkaban?"
He seemed not have heard me though. His eyes were wide, and he was talking to himself, fast disjointed words I couldn't hear. He looked terrified."He's loony," I muttered to myself.
"How did you know?" he asked me sharply.
"So you are loony?" I asked, unbelievingly.
"Oh," he looked confused for a moment. "Never mind." He was quiet, and then he looked annoyed. "And I'm not loony by the way."
It seemed like I could do nothing but offend this man.
It didn't matter anyway, judging by his "finest" clothes, he clearly wasn't anyone superior, even in the wizarding world. I looked over again to see his head buried in his arms on top of his knees. He said he wasn't a little kid, but he was reminding me of a stubborn child. I looked to my other side to see Mary, with tears streaming down her face. Then she stood up, which took me by surprise until I saw other people standing, and walking away.
The ceremony was over. I hadn't listened to a bit of my sister's funeral. It seemed fitting, as I had hardly listened to my sister when she was alive anyway. Not since she had come back from that school. Not since she had become a freak. Freaks were all around me, the giant man, scary, odd creatures I had never seen before, the strange man sitting next to me, who had still not moved from his position. I waited as well, I didn't want to bump into another odd magical being, and possibly get attacked. It would be much easier to wait until most of the people had dispersed.
I was staring at the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone, or anything when a high heeled boot was in front of me. "Petunia?" a somber voice asked. I looked up to see a tall man, with a long beard and spectacles. I nodded, noticing the wand slightly protruding from his pocket. Before I knew it, he was crouched down, his hand on my shoulder. I shook, feeling very uneasy. I didn't know this man, was he trying to hurt me? Was he-
"I remember when you sent me that letter," he said, chuckling softly.
No...no, this was the man in charge of that magical school. This was the man who had caused Lily to go there in the first place. It was his fault she was dead in the first place, it was his fault that I had to go to this peculiar funeral. I didn't say anything, though.
He looked at me seriously now. "I am so, so sorry for your loss." I saw that his blue eyes were filled with tears, and I looked away, embarrassed. She was my sister, yet I wasn't the one crying, like Mary and the man before me. I wasn't the one in severe distress, like the man next to me. The man with the white beard stood up and moved next to me, surveying the young man with his face buried.
He lifted the man's face with his hand. The old man then cupped the younger man's chin and said simply, "You aren't alone, you know." Then he walked away, to comfort others' grief, though the man next to me looked anything but comforted. He looked maddened.
I stood up. "I think," I said quietly, "I think I'm going to leave now. Vernon's alone with Dudley and Harry and-"
The man looked up at me. "Harry?" he croaked.
I sighed. "Yes, Vernon and I have to take care of him since Lily- well, yes. Vernon and I are in charge of him."
The young man's mouth was open, but I walked away. I walked towards my car, shaking off the grief that people had left on me. I'm going to keep my family away from all this. I thought to myself. Keep Harry away, keep my family and me away from the many horrors in this wizarding world. My sister's child would not be the cause of catastrophe in my house.
When I got home my husband was waiting for me with a cup of tea and news that Dudley had learned to turn on the television all by himself. I smiled, knowing that this was my true family. Where magic wasn't present and harm didn't come in the form of ugly creatures and spells. Then I looked at Harry's scar, lightning shaped on his forehead, and frowned. Hopefully Vernon and I would be able to stamp out the dangers that this little boy with the eerie scar beheld.