Sapphire eyes
The scent of Camellias and lavender hung heavy in the air, a sweet perfume that was both comforting and tinged with a slight sadness. Petunia Evans stood in her grandmother's garden, a riot of color blooming around her. Each flower was a testament to her love and devotion, coaxed into being by her own hands. Daisy Evans, her grandmother, beamed at her, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
"The garden looks beautiful, Petunia," Daisy said, her voice warm and full of affection.
Petunia smiled, a genuine smile that reached her own eyes. "I learned that from you, Grandma."
Daisy chuckled, a soft, melodic sound. "You sure have, but tell me, Petunia, who will you share this garden with?"
Petunia tilted her head, considering. "Of course, I'll be sharing it with you, Grandma, and let's not forget Yvonne and Emma."
"That's nice, darling," Daisy said, her smile deepening, "but I think there are other people who want to share this garden with you."
Petunia's brow furrowed. "Mom and Dad are not welcome here. Lily is not even welcomed here. Vernon and Dudley are not welcome here," she stated firmly, each name spoken with a growing chill. The joy she had felt moments before was quickly being replaced by a growing unease.
Suddenly, a strange sensation washed over her. The world around her seemed to blur as she felt herself shifting, growing, aging through the years. She felt the weight of 11 years turn into the weariness of 46. The vibrant garden began to morph too. The delicate flowers that had given her joy became sharp, thorny roses that seemed to mock her with their cruel beauty. Daisy's form flickered, then crumbled into a puff of dust, carried away by a nonexistent breeze.
“Grandma, no! Come back! Please come back, I need you! Don't leave me!” Petunia screamed, her voice cracking with despair.
A mocking laugh echoed behind her. She spun around and her blood ran cold. Her mother, Rose Evans, stood there, her expression cruel and triumphant. "Oh, Petunia," she sneered, "What makes you think that you would escape me? Your precious Daisy Evans won’t be living much longer. You know full well that she will die in about two years from now and you cannot get the money."
Her father, Harold Evans, stepped up beside his wife. His face held a mixture of disappointment and disgust. "I never wanted you from the very beginning," he spat, "you and I don't share the same blood. I wish that I had left you in that hospital from the very beginning.”
Then, Lily appeared, her green eyes glittering with malice. "Oh, Tuney, look at you,a helpless little Muggle, who can't even be compared to me!" she taunted, "What makes you think that you could attend Hogwarts? When you sent a message to the headmaster Dumbledore, it was obvious from the beginning that you will never attend that school."
Petunia felt a cold dread wash over her. She was trapped, surrounded by the people who had haunted her dreams, and she was reliving a life that stretched on and on.
Her husband, Vernon Dursley, loomed into view, his face red with rage. "Why are you fighting so hard to change the future? You're nothing but a housewife! You should be thankful that I have even glanced at you!"
Dudley, her son, joined his father, his eyes filled with a childish cruelty she knew all too well. “Tell me, mom, were you glad that me and dad died in that car accident? You never wanted me. You are really the worst mother in the world, just being glad her son and husband are dead.”
Lily laughed, her voice like ice. "You will never be happy, Petunia," she said, "You've always been bitter, jealous of me. And you’re still jealous, even when I’m dead."
The thorny roses seemed to reach out, their sharp points piercing her skin, suffocating her. "No! Stop!" she cried, her voice a ragged whisper.
They all laughed at her. She had never screamed so loudly in her mind but nothing came out. "Help someone anyone, Grandma!"
Lily mimicked her, "Help me, someone, help me, hahaha. Oh, Petunia, did anyone ever tell you that you look so cute when you're scared?"
The laughter grew deafening, a chorus of cruelty. Her mother’s voice cut through it again, “Petunia why don’t you call Daisy again? Maybe she will show up if you do.”
Panic surged through her until she spotted a serpent in the distance, looking at her with what felt like an unusual intensity, as if it wanted her to speak. And then, she remembered a name, a name that was close to her heart, a name she hadn't uttered since waking up from her coma. She whispered, "Rabastan…"
And then, with a gasp, Petunia woke up. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet of her room. The nightmare clung to her, a sticky film of fear and despair. She was in her room at her grandmother's house. The faint light of early morning filtered through the curtains. She could hear the quiet breathing of her two best friends, Yvonne and Emma, their empty bedrolls beside hers a reminder of the heist plan of trying to steal the mayor’s money for a grandmother‘s treatment the night before.
A soft knock came at the door. Emma groaned, her voice still thick with sleep, “Who in the world is knocking so early in the morning? on the weekend, no less.”
The door burst open and Lily Evans practically bounced into the room, throwing her arms around Petunia in a fierce hug. "Tuney! I missed you so much!"
Petunia, still reeling from the horror of the dream, recoiled slightly. The name she had whispered was already slipping away from the edges of her consciousness, like sand in a sieve. She had forgotten it and then she focused on the presence of her sister. “Lily, what are you…” She was on guard, her instincts screaming at her.
"I came to see you! And Mom is here too! Come on, let's go, she really misses you!" Lily said, a wide, innocent smile on her face as she pulled a stunned Petunia who was still caught in the horrors of the nightmare.
As Lily dragged her away, Petunia felt a strange calm settle over her. She knew what she had seen, she could feel the future waiting. She was going to be damned sure that she wouldn't allow that future to come to pass. She had seen the darkness, the manipulation, the cruelty. Dumbledore will pay, she promised herself. She would make sure everyone would pay for what they’ve done to her and raven. But for now, she had to face her mother, whose very existence was the reason behind the bitterness that she was bound to become, and she would be damned if she squandered it.
They entered the kitchen. Her grandmother, Daisy, sat calmly eating breakfast. Rose, her mother, was there too, a cup of tea in her hand, a carefully constructed mask of concern plastered on her face. Emma and Yvonne trailed behind, their eyes wide, clearly sensing the tension crackling in the air.
"Petunia, why are you still in your pajamas? Haven't I taught you to be presentable since you were a child?" Rose's voice dripped with false concern, a thinly veiled attempt at humiliation.
Her friends bristled. Yvonne's hand clenched into a fist, but before she could react, Daisy spoke up, her voice a calming balm. "Rose, it's the weekend. Petunia is entitled to a break on her vacation days.”
Petunia sat down, ignoring Rose's attempt to make her feel uncomfortable. "What's the matter, Rose? Can't stand to see me happy, that you constantly have to nag me?" The smugness in her voice was palpable. Emma choked back a laugh, a small snort escaping her lips.
Daisy, observing the interaction with a keen eye, decided to redirect the focus. "Now, now, Petunia. Your mother is here for another reason. Let's all have breakfast before we continue our conversation."
An awkward silence descended over the table. Lily, oblivious to the simmering undercurrents, bounced in her chair, her excitement bubbling like soda. Once they were finished, Rose's gaze lingered on Petunia's cappuccino. "Since when do you fancy coffee, Petunia?" she asked, a note of thinly veiled suspicion in her voice.
Petunia took a long, deliberate sip, meeting Rose's gaze head-on. "Since I realized it's the only thing that can keep me awake when I'm forced to endure your presence," she replied evenly. Her friends exchanged amused glances.
Rose sputtered, "Petunia, you're just eleven years old! You shouldn't be drinking coffee. It's bad for children."
"It's a vanilla latte, Rose," Petunia corrected, rolling her eyes. "Why don't you just drink your tea quietly without disturbing my new routine?"
Daisy turned to Lily, “Lily, it’s very rare for you to come to my house.”
Lily, finally catching her breath from her excitement, said, "Grandma, I’m excited to see Tunney playing the violin!" She turned to her sister, "Mom doesn't believe you can play the violin. I think you should show her."
Rose’s eyes narrowed “Yes, I'm very curious how you are playing the violin, which you have never in your life picked up."
Daisy, aware of the mounting tension, intervened, “Lily, how about you come outside with me? My cat just had kittens. Would you like to see them?"
Lily’s face lit up, and she jumped up from the chair, followed closely by Yvonne and Emma. As they left, they exchanged a knowing look with Petunia, a silent message of solidarity.
The moment they were gone, Rose dropped the act. The fake smile vanished, replaced by a chilling glare. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice low and dangerous. "I know full well you are not Petunia."
Petunia chuckled, a cold, humorless sound. "What are you talking about, Rose? I am Petunia. Why are you accusing me of being someone else?"
"You expect me to believe that the daughter I've raised for eleven years suddenly drinks coffee and plays the violin after waking up from a coma? No. You're not Petunia. So, spare me the lies, and tell me the truth. Who are you?"
Petunia met her mother's gaze, a strange calm settling over her. "I said it before, and I'm going to say it now. I'm the monster you created."
Rose sighed, a mixture of frustration and dismissal on her face. “Petunia, you’re sick. You need help. This is not you.”
Petunia’s voice hardened. “Rose, why don’t you get it over with, tell me what you want from me and just leave me alone.”
Rose took a deep breath, a carefully crafted evil smile spreading on her lips. “I have no idea how you found out that Harold isn't your biological father. But tell me, my dear daughter, aren't you curious who your real father is?”
Petunia's eyes turned cold as ice. "I'm sure it's just some lowlife you slept with," she said flatly.
The accusation hit Rose like a physical blow. She slammed her hand on the table, the teacups rattling."How dare you accuse me of something you know nothing about!"
she cried, her voice trembling. She covered her face with her hands, the sobs breaking free. "You have no idea what I have been through, or what your father has been through. We did this to protect you! What do you think would happen if everyone knew about your birth?"
Petunia sighed, “Alright then, Rose, humor me. Tell me about my birth. Let’s see how long you’re going to stretch out this lie.”
Rose looked up, her eyes red and swollen. She made a decision. It was time for the big reveal, the heavy truth that had been buried for years. “Petunia, twelve years ago, before you were born… I was raped.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
She struggled to collect the broken pieces of her memory. "They were a band of musicians… and the head of the band, he was the one who ordered his friends to pin Harold down. And then… he raped me in front of him. And after they were done, they threw us out and left the same day." Tears streamed down her face, crocodile tears maybe, but the pain in her voice was undeniable. "And you know, the funny thing is... you are the exact copy of him."
Rose looked at Petunia. “Blonde hair and blue eyes... the same features as him. There is almost no feature of mine. That’s the reason why your father ignored you since the day you were born. I know it’s not your fault, but it happened. So please, Petunia, forgive us if we are wrong to you, and come back home. I promise things will be better.”
Petunia laughed, a sharp, cold sound that echoed in the small kitchen. "How stupid do you think I am to believe you? Rape? Hahahaha! Oh, please, you expect me to believe that someone like you could be raped? No, I don’t think that really happened. You know what I think? I think you just made that up, or you created this fiasco so you could still stay with Harold. Indeed, a divorced, pregnant woman with a bastard child isn’t something to be proud of, is it?"
Rose stared at her daughter, her heart sinking. This cold, detached creature… this was not her Petunia. The confession hadn't moved her a single bit. "Petunia… how could you be so heartless? Is your heart made of stone?"
Petunia simply met her gaze. "Well, I don't care where I came from, or how I was created, either by rape, or by you cheating on Harold, or any of the above. I have so many things I need to do before things get started."
Rose blinked in confusion. "What do you mean, Petunia? Does this have anything to do with this person named Raven?"
Petunia waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t need to answer to you anymore. You and I have nothing left to say now. Leave, Mrs. Evans, while I’m still nice to you.”
As she spoke, Petunia’s eyes became dangerous, an unsettling sapphire hue glowing within them. Rose shivered, a primal fear gripping her heart. "Indeed," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "You're the same as him." As if fleeing some unseen horror, she grabbed her things and rushed out of the house.
Outside, Lily was excitedly showing Rose the box of kittens. "Mommy, look! Aren’t they cute?"
Rose ignored her daughter, her eyes darting towards the house. She could see Petunia leaning against the doorframe, her sapphire eyes piercing. A shiver ran down her spine. She addressed Lily, her voice taut with anxiety. “Lily, let’s go back home. I’m not feeling well.”
Lily looked up with innocent confusion. "Can't I stay a bit longer? I promise I won't be late."
Rose hesitated, her gaze flicking between Lily and the unnervingly calm figure of Petunia in the doorway. An undercurrent of fear pulsed through her. "Alright, but don't be late, honey."
Lily nodded, her face alight with happiness. Rose turned and walked away, her pace quickening, her mind racing. She cursed under her breath, frustrated by her need to flee, but she wasn't defeated. She still had a trick up her sleeve, and she was going to use it against her daughter. She had to.