Half Evans

The first thing Petunia Evans thinks as she steps through the stone archway is that this place has not changed at all.

The second thing she thinks is that she should keep a tight hand on Harry.

As soon as they step through onto the winding, cobblestone road, she can hear the murmurs begin, sweeping through the bustling streets like a wave.

“Is that?”

“It can’t be, can it?”

“But who’s that with him?”

“Harry!”

“The Potter boy!”

She tightens her grip on his hand and tugs him along.

“Think ye can find yer way alright now?” Hagrid asks. “I could show ya around if ya need, but I've got a few errands to run, and Tom..” His voice trails off as he glances longingly back at the archway that is beginning to close up.

“Yes, yes. I have directions and list of shops here from Albus. I’d hate to keep you from.. Tom.” Hagrid beams at her and lumbers off back in the direction they came.

“Good luck with the shoppin’ and all that! And I’ll be seein’ you boys come September. Gamekeeper at Hogwarts an’ all.” He waves merrily, leaving the three of them standing in the middle of the street. Petunia lets go of the boys.

“Do not wander off.” She reminds them sharply, and they both mutter their agreement, although she does note that neither of them seems to be able to focus on her, with their heads on a constant swivel taking in the strange sights and sounds.

She understands, of course. She remembers her first time in Diagon Alley many years ago with her sister, and how remarkable they’d thought it was.

“I wonder if Florean’s is still around,” She murmurs softly, then shakes her head. No. Absolutely not. No nonsense, no lollygagging, no sightseeing. They are here for school supplies, and school supplies only. She pulls the list of shops out of her handbag and surveys it.

“Mum,” Dudley’s voice is soft with just a hint of whininess that sets Petunia on edge. “Are we able to start with the wand?”

“Yes!” Harry adds excitedly. “I want to get my wand!” Petunia purses her lips as she reads the list.

“Ollivander’s is on the other side of town.” She says after a moment. “We have several stops to make on the way, and the first must be the bank or we shan’t be getting anything.” And with that, she marches the two dejected boys down the lane towards the large, stone building she knows is Gringott’s.

Petunia is not the only muggle wandering Diagon Alley. She notes several other families clad in normal clothing looking positively befuddled at the strange, lopsided buildings with weird names. She watches with growing irritation as a man struggles to balance a large, black cauldron while trying to hand a wad of bills to a wizard in gaudy purple robes.

“I said twenty galleons!” The wizard yells, thrusting the bills back at the man.

“I don’t know what a galleon is!” The man roars, and the woman with him, a tall, beautiful woman with thick, curly hair puts her hand on his arm.

“Calm down, Roger! Honestly.”

“Well if someone would tell me what a bloody galleon is –“

“Take it to Gringott’s!”

“WHAT IS A GRINGOTT’S??”

“It is the bank that this lot uses.”

The man stops his shouting and turns a red face towards Petunia.

“A what?”

“What do you mean this lot?” The purple robed wizard glares at Petunia, who glares defiantly back at him.

“A bank.” She says to the man. “You can exchange your money there for wizard money. Galleons, as it were.” The man wheels back to the wizard.

“You couldn’t have just said it was a ruddy bank?” He seethes, and the wizard, at least, has the decency to look somewhat chastened. “Where the bloody hell would I even find this bank?” The woman squeezes his arm gently.

“Rog!” She chastises. “Language, please!” Roger grumbles something under his breath, but seems to calm down slightly, and the woman turns to Petunia. “My name is Clara. Clara Granger, and this is my husband Roger. I’m terribly sorry about all this, we’re quite new to all of this. This is the third shop we’ve gone to and no one seems to be able to answer any of our questions.”

“Yes, well, my experience hasn’t been all that smooth either,” Petunia sniffs. “I do, however, have a list of appropriate shops if you’d like to come along. I’d be happy to share what little knowledge I do have.” Clara claps her hands delightedly and smiles at her husband.

“Absolutely wonderful!” She exclaims. “See, Roger? I told you someone would help.” Roger smiles, somewhat sheepishly at Petunia.

“You have children going to Hogwarts then?” Clara reaches behind her and tugs a small girl with the same dark, curly hair as her mother.

“This is our daughter, Hermione. She’ll be starting this year as well.” Petunia tugs harshly on the two boys behind her.

“This is my son, Dudley, and his cousin Harry. They’ll both be attending this year, first years as well.” Hermione bites her lip nervously and Petunia pushes the boys forward. “Don’t be rude!” She hisses, and Harry extends his hand.

“Hullo.” He says. “I’m Harry.” Hermione grabs his hand nervously.

“Hermione.” She says quietly. She turns to Dudley, who is staring at Hermione with wide eyes. “You must be Dudley then?” Dudley nods, seemingly unable to form words at this current moment, and extends his hand.

“Kids!” Hermione’s head snaps at her father’s voice, and she hurries along behind the three parents who are making their way to Gringott’s.

The rest of the day goes as smoothly as Petunia can hope. They’re able to purchase appropriate cauldrons, be measured for robes that they are assured will arrive the following Tuesday by owl, and a large set of textbooks that make Dudley’s eyes bug out of his head (“I can’t read all of these!”). They also get a set of dragon hide gloves each, which thrills both of them to no end, a set of glass phials that Harry promptly breaks but is thankfully repaired by the kindly witch at the counter (“he’s not the first student to break a set of these!”), and a large, white snowy owl for Harry that he calls Hedwig, and a grey and white cat that Dudley names Tank. Finally, there is nowhere left to go but the wand shop.

Much like everything else in Diagon Alley, Ollivander’s remains unchanged from the last time Petunia had been there. She remembers everything; the dilapidated door painted in peeling orange, the overstuffed shelves filled with dusty boxes, and the way the walls seemed to absorb the light, leaving them illuminated only by the flickering candles that lined the dust-covered windowsills.

“Ah! Welcome, welcome to Ollivander’s wand shop. I am, of course, Ollivander. Now, I’ll assume we’re here to find some wands for the children then? First years, I’m guessing?” Clara nods and Ollivander beckons them closer. “Right then, come on children, come, come! Who’s going to be first, then?” Hermione timidly steps forward, raising her hand. “Don’t be shy now, never be shy! Raise that hand up, up, up! Alright, let’s try a few.” He turns his back, rummaging through the shelves and bins of boxes. “Hm.. how about this one? Acai wood with unicorn hair.” He hands Hermione a wand, who gives it a little flick. A small flick of light bursts from the tip and fizzles rather insignificantly. “Hmm..” Ollivander shrugs his shoulders. “Not quite then.” He returns to his rummaging, producing more wands for Hermione to try.

Harry and Dudley watch the process excitedly, betting on which wands they think they’ll get.

“I want one with a dragon core!”

“No way! Unicorn!”

She finally finds a wand that erupts in a spectacular show of fireworks, much to the delight of the three children. Dudley is the next to go, and Petunia watches the entire process with sharp, shrewd eyes.

Dudley is given only two wands, the second emitting a steady stream of bubbles that turn into ducks, kittens, and finally a large eagle that takes flight and soars around the room. She feels uncharacteristic tears come to her eyes that she blinks away viciously as Dudley holds his packaged wand with soft, tender hands.

Finally, it is Harry’s turn, and Ollivander turns to him with a grin that leering grin that sets Petunia on edge.

“I was wondering when you’d grace my humble shop.” He says, and Petunia clenches her fists as he turns, rummaging through the wands at the back. “Here.” He sets a dusty box on the counter, removing the wand and passing it to Harry. “Give her a try.” Harry flicks the wand, much the same way Dudley and Hermione had, and nothing happens. Harry glances nervously back at Petunia, who gives him a tight-lipped encouraging smile.

“Another.” Ollivander thrusts another box towards Harry, who gives that one a flick. This time, a small, flickering flame drops from the end, catching the dry wood of the countertop on fire. Ollivander doesn’t flinch, although Roger Granger does give a shout. Instead, he flicks his own wand, extinguishing the flame with barely a glance. He hands another box to Harry. A shelf collapses. Another. Dudley’s hair turns purple. Another. A jet of steam. Petunia is beginning to grow weary, and the Granger’s have left to go find a spot for a snack. Finally, Ollivander drums his fingers on the singed and soaking wet countertop.

“I wonder..” He murmurs, before disappearing into a back room Petunia had not noticed before. Harry glances at her nervously.

“What if I can’t find a wand?” He asks softly, and Petunia tuts.

“Nonsense.” She says, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “Of course you’ll get a wand.” He’s still biting his lip nervously when Ollivander returns, placing a dust covered box gently on the counter.

“Go on,” He says softly. “Try it.” Petunia narrows her eyes. Ollivander is watching Harry intently. Too intently, as far as she’s concerned. Harry picks up the wand.

Immediately, he feels a warmth spreading through his fingers and down his arm. It feels.. happy, almost.

“Go on,” Ollivander whispers, and Harry raises the wand, giving it a flick. A stream of red and gold sparks shoot out from the end, and Dudley whoops in delight as great sparks of light dance on the decrepit walls.

“Oh, bravo!” Ollivander cries, clapping his hands. “Yes, well done! Very good indeed. And how curious, too. How curious, how very, very curious..” Harry grips the wand tightly, his eyes finding Ollivander’s, whose eyes are gleaming with.. something Petunia does not approve of.

“What’s curious?” He asks. Petunia takes a step forward.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand.”

Petunia’s breath hitches in her throat.

“It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why its brother gave you that scar.” Harry’s hand flies up to his forehead where Petunia knows the lightning bolt scar is, and Dudley gives a terrified yelp. Petunia closes the gap between the two of them, snatching Harry’s hand in hers as she pulls him away from the counter.

“Outside!” She snaps at the boys.

“But, Mum –“

“Outside!” She waits until she hears the tarnished bell over the doorway jingle, before she rounds on Ollivander.

“What exactly do you think your playing at old man?” She seethes, and Ollivander holds his hands up.

“I meant no harm, my dear.”

“Do you realize,” She snarls, leaning over the countertop. “How excited these boys have been to come to this hovel? Do you even understand what a momentous occasion it is to get your first wand?”

“I, of course, I do.”

“Then why the hell would you use this as an opportunity to bring up the man who murdered that poor eleven year old boy’s parents?” Ollivander blanches at this.

“I, I had no ill intention, I assure you.”

“Your intention is inconsequential.” She snaps, before turning round and heading out the door. “Do better, old man!”

The final few weeks of the summer pass far too quickly for Petunia’s liking, and before she’s even realized what’s happening, she’s going through two large steamer trunks and reorganizing everything.

“I’ve already told you, Dudley, there will be absolutely no snacks in your trunk! Do you want to attract rodents?”

“But Mum! What if I get hungry?” Petunia huffs angrily as she tosses a box of cookies out of the trunk and into the hall.

“Your trunk will not be with you on the train.” She snaps. “You’ll have your rucksack for snacks and whatnot. And I told you to fold your clothing, not just throw it in there!” She hauls out a jumble of clothing and starts folding. “And Harry,” She snaps at the other boy who’s tossing a pair of jeans into the trunk. “You might as well take all that out and fold it. I’ll not be sending you two off to school looking like a pair of ragamuffin orphans.” Harry picks up his head, grinning at her.

“But I am a ragamuffin orphan.” He ducks as Petunia throws a dark green jumper at him and Dudley flops onto the bed, laughing gaily.

“Orphan you may be,” She huffs. “But you’re no ragamuffin. Now. Fold. And Dudley, get down here and help, I’m not a maid.” Dudley rolls off the bed and grabs a pair of pants, folding them haphazardly and tossing them in. Petunia sighs, then grabs and refolds them.

“What are you going to do tomorrow, Mum? Once we’re off on the train?”

“Yeah Auntie Petunia! You’ll have no kids in the house at all!” Petunia presses her lips together.

“Probably finally have a moment’s peace.” She says after a moment. “Enjoy going to the bathroom without tripping over someone’s dirty socks. Not have dirt tracked all through my kitchen. Finally not have to spend all my hard earned money on crisps for you lot. Maybe I’ll have company over, now that the house will actually be clean and stay clean.” Dudley looks up at her, his eyes wide.

“Maybe,” He says slowly. “Maybe you can have Dad over?” Harry stills and Petunia’s heart drops slightly. She closes her eyes, taking her time folding up his t-shirt before placing it in the trunk.

“Dudley,” She says softly.

“I just thought it might be a good time for you two to chat. Y’know, without Harry and me here.” She sighs.

“That’s not going to change anything, Dudley. You know this.” Dudley looks down, picking at a small spot on the carpet.

“I just thought.. might be good.” Petunia reaches over and grabs his hand.

“Dudley. You know why –“

“Well maybe he’s changed his mind, Mum!” Dudley explodes, and she freezes. “Maybe he doesn’t hate magic anymore! Maybe he wants to see me off to school. Did you even tell him, Mum? Did you tell him I’m going to Hogwarts tomorrow and that I won’t be here for a whole year? Did you tell him about my wand, and about the eagle I made?” He pulls his hand away from her, and great tears well in his eyes. “He’s my dad. Of course he wants to see me off.” Petunia feels her heart crack, and she wishes – not for the first time – that she could bottle this scene and show Vernon. She wishes that she could make him see the heartbreak he inflicts on their son. She wishes.. she wishes..

“I.. I’ll call him, yeah?” She hears herself say. “I’ll give him a call tonight and ask if he’ll meet us.” Dudley sniffs loudly and wipes the tears that have rolled down his cheeks. “He may say no, though. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I know.” She reaches for his hand again, and he lets her hold it in hers.

“I don’t want you to be upset.”

“I won’t.”

Petunia sighs and stands up, bony knees cracking as she does. A phone call with Vernon Dursley tonight. As if she didn’t have enough to do.

“Vernon.”

“Petunia.”

“How have you been?” She hears his grumbly sigh on the other end of the phone and she fights the urge to roll her eyes.

Then she remembers he can’t see her, and she indulges in a massive eye roll.

“What do you want, Petunia.”

“Your son,” She says through gritted teeth. “Is going away to school tomorrow morning.” She pauses, waits for his snide retort, but none comes. “He wanted me to call you and find out if you’d meet us at the train station, to see him off.” She pauses again and finds herself silently begging him to agree.

“Still going to that crackpot magic school?” He asks, not trying to hide the derision in his voice. Petunia exhales noisily.

“Obviously, Vernon.”

“You know my offer of Smelting’s still stands.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Vernon. We’ve been through this. The boy has magic, he needs to go to magic school.”

“He does not need to! I can’t believe you’re indulging all this –“

“- been seven years –“

“- utterly nonsensical –“

“-  such a pigheaded man –“

“- not going!”

Petunia falls silent. The only sound over the phone is Vernon’s wheezy, laboured breathing.

“So that’s that then.” She says flatly.

“I suppose so.” He responds equally. A wave of emotion hits her, and she feels her lip quiver at the thought of telling Dudley.

“He’s your son, Vernon,” She suddenly hisses, her voice thick with emotion. “He is your son! How can you just, abandon him like this?” Vernon does not respond for a moment, and Petunia wonders if she’s finally gotten through to him.

“Goodbye, Petunia.”

The line clicks dead and Petunia falls into the kitchen chair. Her head drops into her hands and she feels her heart squeeze and suddenly, a great sob wracks her body.

And she cries.

She cries for Harry, who seems to still be a sideshow wherever he goes.

She cries for herself, who’ll be alone after tomorrow.

She cries for Dudley, who has done absolutely nothing to deserve his father’s scorn.

She cries for the man she once loved, who she thought would be with her for the rest of her life.

She cries.

The next day, Petunia lugs the trunks into the car, loads the boys in with their bags packed with comic books, sandwiches, and more than a few homemade treats. She shoves two coin purses into their hands loaded with wizarding money and gives them both a stern lecture on staying together, having each others backs, and looking out for one another at all time. She reminds them to focus on their studies, to ask if they need help, to write daily, to make sure they’re eating, to behave themselves and not embarrass her, to make friends, to respect their professors, to write daily, and to write daily. Then she hugs them fiercely and kisses them both and sends them onto the large steamer train.

Right then.

Off to Hogwarts they go.