The days following Christmas settled into a quieter rhythm in the Evans household, the festive glow of the holiday fading as the family returned to their routines. Petunia spent much of her time helping her mother with household chores, the tasks a familiar anchor amidst the unease that still gnawed at her. She dusted the living room, scrubbed the kitchen counters, and folded laundry, her hands busy but her mind restless. She kept the curtains closed, her unease a constant undercurrent as she moved through the house.
Lily, meanwhile, was often occupied with her Hogwarts schoolwork, her nose buried in books about potions and charms, or she'd disappear to meet her friend Severus Snape, Petunia despised him, she always felt he looked down on her for not having magic, a silent judgment in his demeanor that was never spoken but hung between them like a heavy fog. She'd never liked him, and Lily knew it, but insisted on being his friend anyway. "He's my friend, Tuney," Lily would say, her tone firm, and Petunia would press her lips together, saying nothing, the frustration simmering beneath her silence.
Over the six days, Lily's absence from household chores became more noticeable. While Petunia swept the floors and helped her mum prepare meals, Lily would be in her room, scribbling essays, or out with Severus, returning with a bright smile and stories of their adventures by the river. Petunia's frustration grew, a quiet resentment building as she shouldered the responsibilities alone. She didn't say anything at first, her sense of duty keeping her temper in check, but each day added to the weight on her shoulders, the unfairness of it all a bitter taste in her mouth. Lily tried to talk to her during these days, her attempts at conversation often clumsy, tinged with the distance that had grown between them. On the 27th, as Petunia was setting the table for dinner, Lily lingered in the doorway, her quill still in hand. "You should come with me and Sev tomorrow, Tuney," she said, her voice light. "We're going to look for potion ingredients by the woods." Petunia's hands stilled, her grip tightening on a fork. "No, thanks," she said, her tone clipped, and turned back to the table, the idea of being near Severus making her stomach churn.
On the 29th, while Petunia was helping her mum knead dough for bread, Lily came downstairs, her coat already on. "I'm meeting Sev," she announced, her tone casual, and Petunia's jaw tightened, her hands pressing harder into the dough. "You could help with this, you know," she muttered under her breath, but Lily didn't hear, already out the door. Her mum glanced at her, a flicker of understanding in her eyes, but said nothing, and Petunia kept working, the frustration coiling tighter in her chest.
The tension came to a head on the next day. New Year's Eve, as the family prepared for a small celebration. Petunia was in the living room, arranging a tray of snacks—crackers, cheese, and grapes—while her mum worked in the kitchen, preparing a special dinner. Lily was supposed to be helping, but she'd been in her room all morning, finishing a letter to a Hogwarts friend, and had only just come down, her hair a mess, her expression distracted. "Need any help?" she asked, her tone genuine but distracted, and before Petunia could answer, she added, "I'm meeting Sev later, though, so I can't stay long."
Petunia's hands froze on the tray, her frustration boiling over. She turned to Lily, her voice sharp, a scathing sarcastic edge cutting through her words. "Oh, don't bother, Lily—why would the great witch of Hogwarts waste her time with boring chores when she can run off with her oh-so-charming Severus?" she snapped, her tone dripping with bitterness, the words a sharp jab at Lily's priorities and her friendship with Severus. "I'm sure he needs you to hold his hand while he picks weeds or whatever it is you two do."
Lily's eyes widened, her cheeks flushing, clearly stung by the harshness of the remark. "That's not fair, Tuney," she said, her voice rising, a mix of hurt and defensiveness in her tone. "I was just trying to help!" But before the argument could escalate further, their mum stepped in, her voice firm but calm. "That's enough, both of you," she said, wiping her hands on her apron as she came into the room. She turned to Lily, her expression softening but serious. "Lily, you've been out with Severus a lot lately. You're only home for a few days—spend more time with us, please." Then she looked at Petunia, her tone gentle but pointed. "And Petunia, try to be understanding. She's only here for a short while, and you know how much her friends mean to her. Let's not fight on New Year's Eve."
Petunia's chest heaved, her anger still burning, the sarcastic words still lingering on her tongue, but out of respect for her mum, she held back the outburst threatening to spill over. Instead, she turned on her heel, her voice tight. "I need some air," she said, grabbing her coat and scarf from the hook by the door. Her mum called after her—"Petunia, wait!"—but she was already out the door, the cold air hitting her like a shock as she stormed down the street, her breath puffing in angry clouds.
She didn't think about where she was going, her feet carrying her toward the edge of the neighborhood, her mind a tangle of frustration and hurt. Five minutes into her walk, the anger began to ebb, replaced by a creeping unease. She glanced up, unable to help herself, and froze. There they were—small, winged figures darting between the branches of a nearby tree, their movements quick and oblivious to her presence. A translucent humanoid shape drifted across the street, its form pale and shimmering, unaware of her gaze. Her heart thudded, fear creeping up her spine, but then she saw something else—a creature, tall and gaunt, its skin like cracked bark, its eyes glowing a sickly yellow, lurking at the edge of the woods. It didn't seem to notice her, but its jagged claws and twisted limbs sent a jolt of terror through her, the sight far scarier than anything she'd seen before.
Petunia's breath caught, her legs trembling as she stumbled back, her fear overtaking her. She turned and ran, her scarf flapping behind her, her heart pounding as she raced back to the house. She burst through the door, ignoring her mum's startled "Petunia?" and Lily's wide-eyed stare, and bolted up the stairs to her room. She slammed the door shut, locking it with shaking hands, and pressed her back against it, her chest heaving. She closed the curtains tight, shutting out the world, and sank to the floor, her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped around herself. The image of that terrifying creature burned in her mind, her fear now a suffocating weight, and she knew she couldn't face the outside—not now, maybe not ever.