Petunia

The first weeks in my new life, I run on autopilot.

While on the very first day I had been an active participant trying to figure it all out, now that the shock and adrenaline have worn off, I'm just numb.

I'm caught in a nightmare - whether it really is a dream or not. Every night I hope I will wake up back in my own body, and every morning I'm back in this 80s hellhole.

I've never felt so trapped in my entire life.

If I had at least ended up as someone cool, maybe I could distract myself from the existential dread, but Petunia Dursley is trapped on so many levels. 

A house in the suburbs, picture-book perfect and identical to all the houses on the street, no place for self-expression. I don't even have a source of income, Vernon Dursley brings in the money, there seems to be a set amount of cash weekly for groceries in the kitchen - at the very least I never have to remind him to refill it, but I do wonder whether he does it out of kindness or because he likes controlling how much money I have access to.

Perhaps I'm doing him a disservice, seeing shadows where there are none. It's probably normal for the man to bring in the money in this day and age, he might not have any idea that a wife could want her own spending money. The family is well off, what could I wish for?

A divorce lawyer. That is the thing I wish for most, though I barely have the mental strength to even think about such things just yet.

If I could explore this new, magical world, perhaps I could get used to it, but Petunia clearly doesn't leave the house much. I do the laundry, feed the children, take Harry to the grocers (or rather, have him unknowingly show me the way there), watch shitty 80s TV, cook dinner for this family of four.

I know I could make the time to do something else, but I can't find the energy to break free from the routine.

As for the kids, I mostly let them run wild, I don't have the energy to discipline Dudley nor to try and explain magic to Harry or even to decide whether that is something I should tell him or not. I know I should make sure that he's fine, after whatever the Dursleys have put him through over the course of the last four years, and Dudley also needs some intervention because that kid is clearly addicted to sugar and getting whatever he wants, but I just feel too weak to deal with any of that.

I still can't quite believe that this is my life now.

It doesn't feel real, and therefore I don't anticipate the consequences of my actions or inactions.

In the end, school starting up again is what pulls me out of my funk.

I take the boys school shopping, making sure to indulge both of them equally, giving Harry the bright eraser he was eyeing and allowing Dudley to place some of his own picks into the cart, while also getting all of the actually necessary supplies. Dudley starts whinging when I won't allow him to get every little thing he sees, but I ignore his protests even as his whiny voice grates on my nerves. 

I don't really know what to do with kids. I never planned to have children. Well, I can't possibly be a worse mother and guardian than canon Petunia was, right? And if anything, from what I have learned so far, the real Petunia had been worse.

"Whoa! They've got the new action force figures!" Dudley runs from the stationary towards the toy section of the department store again. I've been surprised all day by how energetic the boy is, I guess I haven't paid much attention before and just expected him to be the fat lazy boy from canon, but while he is certainly spoiled, Dudley is actually not as bad as I would have expected. There's quite some baby fat for sure, but he's not grossly overweight and clearly an active boy, constantly running back and forth from in all directions from the shopping cart while Harry, in contrast, keeps a hand on the metal grating of the cart at all times, afraid to get lost. I wonder whether the real Petunia had ever left him behind at a store before.

Now that I think about it, Dudley has left for the playground basically every day this summer. I wonder whether once he goes to school and sits there all day he'll turn more into a couch potato, maybe he'll also feel too grown up for the playground and will want to play more video games instead, that might soon change his figure if his eating habits don't. I'll have to look up the phone number of his friend, Pears, Pierce, what was his name, and sign both boys up for football classes, some team sports, running around and learning discipline, will do them good. 

I'll also have to find some activities for Harry, unless he wants to join the football club with his cousin which I rather doubt. Some self defence lessons could come in handy for the danger that is to come, but perhaps he'd also be interested in art and music, which from what I remember of the books there isn't much offered at Hogwarts.

I've stared to treat Harry better just by virtue of not being an odious person like Petunia, but apart from allowing him to sit with us at mealtimes and not having him do all of the chores, I haven't made much of an effort to really improve my relationship with him and his standing in the family before, but I plan to change this now.

I'll have to go slowly, to neutral first instead of nice, if that is even possible with Vernon. Even in my haze when I had first arrived here, I had noticed Vernon's confusion when I invited Harry to the table that first night, I don't want to have that confusion turn into anger. 

It's hard to figure out what's normal without knowing how Petunia acted before. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise that I have been so inactive these past weeks, it gives me a new baseline to work with.

"Well, I think we have everything. Oh wait, Harry, have we gotten your prescription checked for your glasses?" I know his eyes probably haven't ever been checked, wasn't there something about a bargain bin? Harry's confusion certainly proves me right. "Well, let's get these things to the car, and then we'll stop at the eye doctor."

I saw a sign for an optician as part of a medical centre on the way to the department store, so I won't have to try and look for one in the phone book, or wherever else people look for doctor's offices in this day and age. I still desperately miss Google. Well, if I remember correctly the internet became a thing in the early 1990s, so just a few more years and I should be able to get a home computer if everything goes the way it's supposed to.

When I explain to the boys that Harry needs to get his eyes checked and maybe get new glasses to see better in school, Dudley reacts with jealousy over so much attention paid to his cousin, and I have to reprimand him several times for kicking him on the backseat of the car. 

"Of course we'll get your eyes checked too Dudders, don't worry I want what's best for my boys," I try to imitate the way I'd expect the real Petunia might have talked to him even as it makes me grimace. No, that was a bad idea, I shouldn't act like this, I'm not her and the younger Dudley is when he gets used to his new mother the better. And 'Dudders' is truly a terrible nickname, though 'Dudley' isn't really much better. I'll have to look for his birth certificate to try and find out whether he has a middle name...

"Don't want to be a specky four-eyes!" Dudley starts wailing and if I didn't have to pay attention to the road I would be rolling my eyes.

"Well, let's hope your eyesight is still perfect then." I privately imagine him having to wear one of those band-aids kids with a weak eye have to wear over the good eye to strengthen the other one. That might teach him some humility.

Thankfully, or disappointingly depending on how you look at it, Dudley proved to have perfect 20:20 eyesight. At least the optician had time to check both their eyes immediately, and I ordered custom prescription glasses with a sturdy metal frame for Harry as well as getting him another new pair that's already better suited to his eyesight with plastic frames to take home immediately. He is looking at his surroundings in awe, seeing things in focus for what might be the first time of his young life. 

"I can see the leaves!"

"Of course you can, everybody can see the leaves!" Dudley laughs, his happiness over not having to wear spectacles making the sound less provocative than it might have usually been.

"I couldn't, not with my old glasses. And without I can't even see how many trees there are," Harry replies, pushing up his glasses and looking at the bushes across the street.

In the car, he and Dudley soon make a game out of it, Dudley pointing out at street signs and adverts and lawns and number plates, always with the question "And can you see that?"

Harry happily obliges, looking at everything with and without his glasses on, and I observe them in the rear-view mirror. For the moment, they act like true siblings might, and I hope I can encourage that kind of relationship in the future.