Chapter 3
There was something to say about the fact, Petunia Dursley neè Evans had been in the past for all of three days (two of them in a fevered faint) and she was now in a mental institution pending release upon proof of non-self harming tendencies.
Her meltdown had been so hysteric, it had scared the medical team into placing her in an observatory unit until further examinations had been performed and she was deemed not a risk.
Vernon called all people who resided in institutions such as this the wrong sort or deficient. So she wondered what he had to say about her now.
It was mind numbing. Being in such a white room. White walls, white sheets, white beds, white tiles and white flooring. She sort of felt as if she’d been transported into one of those science fiction movies Dudley-
She forced her thoughts to a halt. If she thought about her child, she would almost absolutely have a manic episode. So she’d save the meltdowns until she was alone in the bathroom, with the shower noise drowning out her sobs.
It was a bit peaceful. Not having to compare herself to the colour of the real world. This room was just as dull as she was, just as colourless and just as placid. It was refreshing not having to compare yourself to every solitary item or person in the room. She might use this as inspiration for her own bedroom. She hadn’t felt peace like this in a while so perhaps the serenity of this room could aid with her terrible sleeping habits.
”Petunia!!” Her mother fretted, the door slamming open in her nervous state.
Ah. This was why she hadn’t had a white room before. Because the contrast was always so much worse. Her mother’s hair was absolutely on fire and her eyes were two glittering gems that looked upon her worryingly. Instead of the usual sting she got when she stared at her beautiful family members, it was a burn.
Petunia was definitely ditching the white room idea.
Her mother was one of the three people allowed in and out of this place. Her father was talking to the doctor trying to determine what exactly had caused his daughter’s panic and Lily had apparently been so distraught, she’d collapsed as the doctors had been restraining an inconsolable Petunia.
“Hello mother,” Petunia gives the woman a tired smile, strained with years and years of age. She was mentally older than her own parents. And wasn’t that a thought.
”Are you feeling alright?” Her mother urges, shuffling forward, her eyes filling with tears, lower lip trembling in worry.
Petunia couldn’t help the smile that spread on her lips at her mother’s cute actions. “I don’t know what happened to be honest. However, I believe it could have been a panic attack,” She says quietly and her mother hops up on the bed beside her daughter, her eyes like bright, luminous beams trying to see through her.
“The doctors think that’s the case, yes.” Rose says lightly, her hands rubbing up and down the length of Petunia’s forearm. The action brought her a bit of comfort, assuring her that her eldest was safe and sound right beside her…. even if she wasn’t so safe from the contents of her own mind. She watches as her daughter peers down at the bandage on her right arm, as if confused to how she’d been injured in the first place. “You were injured when you fell,” She explains and Petunia nods slowly, still staring at her hand before blinking and looking up at her mother in question.
“You- You’re not-“ Her lower lip trembled and Petunia smiled at her almost in an indulging manner. And since when was her daughter mature enough to be indulging. “You’re going to be okay.” Rose states firmly, finally getting a hold over herself and her daughter nods.
”Of course. This is just a tiny bump,” Petunia murmurs, trying not to wince at the idea of Dudley being a mere bump. As if her son, who had been her entire life, her heart and soul, was a tiny bump.
“You seem distressed my heart. Are you alright?” Her mother whispers and the caring tone that she hadn’t heard for years, even when her mum had still been alive, physically hurts. Even her mother’s hand on her own contrasted so much, Petunia had to resist the urge to yank her arm away, just to stop the screaming in her head. Warm, bronze, tanned skin stood out against the sickly ivory of her own. Her mum’s skin seemed to shimmer and once again, Petunia had to wonder where the magic in her mother had went. Why was Lily magic and not her mother? They certainty seemed identical in everything else.
“I’m fine,” Petunia lies with a brighter smile and she wonders why it still twinges when her mum’s stressed shoulders fall in relief, believing every word from her mouth. It’s a blemish her parents carry that she will never unsee, the fact that she can lie so perfectly, so innocently and they’ll accept it as the truth every single time. She wonders why her heart still bleeds when it’s so obvious that nothing will change.
Her mother beams at her and Petunia simply smiles back, trusting in her mother’s obliviousness to hide the pain behind her expression, “Your sister collapsed as well. She’s in the room in the floor below you. She’s been sleeping all night. Your dad and I have been alternating shifts,” She says quietly, as if too scared to raise her voice and ruin the serenity of the room.
“Sorry for the trouble,” Petunia winces and her mother shakes her head.
”Oh no darling. You just focus on getting better. It’s no trouble at all if you’re not feeling well,”
“Do you know when the doctor will clear us to go home?” Petunia asks her mother and she shakes her head.
”Your father is talking to the doctor right now, so we should find out. I can go check if you want?”
Petunia nods, “Could you happen to bring me a piece of paper and a pen with you as well? I’m a bit bored mum.”
Rose’s eyes water slightly. She hadn’t noticed she missed her daughter calling her mum until she’d stopped. So she was feeling much happier with this change of events. She’d make sure to get her eldest the best paper and pen ever.
Petunia watches her mother leave the room and immediately her gaze snaps down to her wrapped up hand.
It took all of her self-control not to rip the bandages off her wrist. Unrolling the bandages certainly tested what little patience she had.
She unveiled the injury and could do nothing but stare.
“Bloody hell…” She murmurs, tracing the injury with her finger. It didn’t even look like a normal cut. It was obviously extremely deep and it was burned into her. The skin surrounding the injury was bright red and puffy. Petunia definitely still felt the ache from the burn, but it was only now when she was focussing on it, that the pain stung all the way up her forearm and made it tremble, regardless of how numb her actual wrist felt.
The burn itself was ardent. Blood crusted around the borders of the scald, forming a shape that Petunia had no clue the meaning of. And it had to mean something. It was given to her by the witch who had inadvertently sent her to this timeline. However she was beginning to believe this happenstance wasn’t accidental and the witch had meant to cause this.
The burn appeared similar to ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs but…. not really at the same time. It was ancient script, that was something she was utterly certain on.
The stationary her mum had bought her a while ago was staring at her from it’s place on the stand to her right. She’d wanted to start a plan, a to-do list of sorts because her brain worked much better when she had a step-by-step instruction list for her to accomplish. She usually kept notecards in her purse and post-its on the palm of her hand with quickly written chicken scrawl covering its entirety. If she had to grab a second one, the whole thing became off and she’d have to start another list with smaller handwriting that time around.
Her priorities, though, were clear to her. The three points were bloody near deafening in her mind, flaring up like children having tantrums- unable to keep quiet, needing all attention on them.
1. Dudley
2. Lily
3. Harry
Those three points, the safety of those three people were paramount and she kept repeating them in her mind. Again and again. Again and again.
Dudley, Lily and Harry. Dudley, Lily and Harry. DUDLEY, LILY AND HARRY.
They were recited so much in her head, they became a prayer.
So yes, Petunia didn’t feel much for writing out her to-do list for the day, or for this life she’d been flung into. But she could suffer through her prayers; Dudley, Lily and Harry. Dudley, Lily and Harry.
She prayed so hard that eventually she was praying in her sleep, tears soaking through to her pillow.
During her marriage to Vernon, she had learned to hide some of her thoughts from him- some of her opinions on topics he was more passionate about. The fights that resulted were just not worth it in her opinion. But keeping quiet simply wasn’t doing it for Petunia after a few years and bursts of arguments would explode from her lips almost unconsciously. The clashes as a result were terrible. Thrown glass and upturned furniture and covered bruises…
So Petunia decided that writing out her emotions was a much better option than talking. Because talking always hurt and talking strained her marriage- hence her no talking rule. Well no talking about the things she thought were important because chances were that Vernon didn’t agree or just deemed her ignorant.
Writing also had an issue though. Because there was the risk that her husband would find them. Find the words that she kept close to her heart like a caress, find the words that she dreaded anyone hear or read. The solution was simple in her opinion. She simply had to learn a new language. She’d already been fluent in French before her marriage because respectable women, prestigious women knew more than one language. After the wedding, she instantly started learning Italian due to Vernon and Marge’s heritage. She wanted to teach her son the language after all and the culture was just so beautiful.
Only issue there was Vernon knew both French and Italian fluently as well, so those were out of the question. Hence the reason for deciding on a language with a whole new alphabet, with letters that were more drawings than actual words. Vernon was too lazy to try to translate a language like that- a language beautiful enough to draw and write at the same time. And stubborn Petunia, bullheaded Petunia, learned Arabic in two years, flooding her journals and notebooks with enough words to fill a library. She still remembered treating every journal like sets of jewelry costing millions. And to her they were. They were her words. Words she was too scared to mutter to another soul. But it had been her escape.
And then she had learned of the Arab culture and she’d fallen even more in love, because it was just so filled with life and excitement and colour and was everything she lacked and everything she wanted. But the colour wasn’t a person she could despise and be envious of, it was a lifestyle she could become. But Vernon would never have allowed that.
So she had bright gold bangles hidden under stacks of clothes in the house and thin emblazoned anklets that jingled when she wore them. She owned silk scarfs with gorgeous Arabic words embroidered in it, that she wore around her neck when she could get away with it. And she wore them with the utmost care because wearing them made her feel much more colourful than she actually was. They shielded her from her own mind.
She admired the attire of belly-dancers from afar, simply looking, respectful and reverent. Because even though those girls had some colour, it was overshadowed by the extravagant necklaces, bracelets and scarfs. The culture was stunning and it allowed her to breathe.
Now however, as she stares at the stationary on her lap, tucked in the creases of her own bed at home, the urge to write was overwhelming. And so she does. All in Arabic. A language she knows no one close to her would be able to read or comprehend.
Amid her prayers, she writes what she knows of magic. Anything and everything- because even a single gap in knowledge could be the difference between life and death. And that bitch of a magic wielder declared war when she wretched her son from her arms.
Ergo the need for information -muggle and magic, for knowledge, for books… for weapons.
Lily’s birthday was coming up and she’d be damned if she at least didn’t have a plan before Lily was whisked away to the world of magic. To the world that killed her.
To-Do List for Dudley, Lily and Harry
1- Albus Dumbledore must die.
2- Voldemort must die.
3- Blonde witch who caused all this must die.
Alright, perhaps Petunia might be much too emotional to think straight without declaring murder on everyone and anyone involved in Lily’s death. But those three, do deserve to die. Anyone who trains children to fight a war for adults is abominable. And anyone who decides that murdering a year old babe is alright in their books, is certifiably insane. She could hire a hitman? She didn’t think wizards had any defence against a sniper shooting miles away.
And if she learned the ins and outs of gunmanship? There would be no bloody witnesses.
She added it to the list.
4- Learn how to shoot a gun (sniper preferred)—> figure out where to buy one
That persuaded the next two points, seeing as she needed any advantage she could get when going up against wizards who adored mind-raping muggles for fun.
5- Learn self-defence (sign up for classes)
6- Daggers? Preferably throwing daggers?
7- Figure out how to protect my mind from perverts
There also had to be something in the magic world she could use to protect herself, whether that be charmed jewellery or a simple spell someone could cast on her. She’d be studying all the books Lily would buy because a second opinion was always warranted in war. It would also help figure out what the symbol on her wrist bloody meant.
8- Read up on magic (school textbooks, anything really…)
9- Burn on my wrist?????
Petunia stared at the eight point list before turning a page and starting to scribble any information she already had on magic.
The Unforgivables: spells to torture, mind control and kill.
Potions and Charms -Lily’s favourite subjects
Potions and Dark Arts- Snape’s favourite subjects (Lily became interested in the Dark arts for a while).
Mind reading
BLOOD protection around my house was powerful enough to ward out death eaters.
Meaning of a blood sacrifice in magic (Lily’s death).
Heir Potter? Lord Potter? (the bloody hell does that mean? I don’t think my sister married a duke)
Compulsion spells? (like the one that forced me to move to my car)
How to fight off compulsion spells? How to fight off mind control?
Azkaban and Sirius Black
Dementors and chocolate
Spells that make a person explode (example Marge Dursley)
Doing magic without a wand (Harry turning his teacher’s hair blue and popping out of nowhere, giving us all heart attacks).
Classes that Lily had: Defence, Charms, Potions, Trans-something, Magic math? Magic pictures? Future-telling. Can’t remember the other ones- research this matter.
Death Eaters
Dark Mark
The mention of Snape, while spitting out the random thoughts that came to her, made her turn her page back and add another point.
10- Help Severus. Maybe kill his dad too? Don’t ask him that but its an option (Lily always thought clearer when she was friends with him).
11- Make sure to burn this book after.
She also realized that in order for all of this to happen, she needed to make sure her path to knowledge, hence the magic books she couldn’t get to easily, would not be hindered. So she needed a reliable way for a muggle to get in and out of Diagon Alley. Hiring someone was an option, but to do that she needed money.
Petunia didn’t think her parents, neglectful as they would come to be, would appreciate sending their twelve year old child to defence and shooting classes. Not to mention the money she would need for books and testing out of school, because like Hell would she be repeating her schooling when she could jump ahead to university. She also needed physics textbooks -any and all physics textbooks- since time travel apparently was a thing now and Petunia had to know everything. Especially if there were any dangers to it.
12- MONEY
She made sure to underline point twelve five times and circle it once, so her eyes would always seek that point when she opened the journal. Since she was currently twelve, the stock market wasn’t really an option unless she made a fake ID or got a job. So she added learning hacking to the list as well as computer science. She put that as a prospective undergraduate degree she could take. Petunia always had little trouble learning new things. Memorizing facts just came easy to her. She never did anything with her perfect scores on the GCSEs, even though she could have gotten into some of the best schools. She’d married Vernon right out of high school. That wasn’t happening this time around. She’d always regretted not having a degree. Vernon certainly made her feel less for it. She had been about to attend when Vernon declared Petunia being a house wife would be for the best.
She could always try getting money illegally. She knew underground fighters made big bucks but that went back to her need of learning to defend herself.
But…. scholarships were an option. There were hundreds if not thousands of scholarships that went unclaimed each year. She saw the statistics. That would set her up for university and a little extra for her work. She sighed heavily, staring at the journal before closing it and placing it under her pillow. Petunia did not expect to ever have to study for exams again in her life but here she was thinking of books and lesson plans to get her ready for the GCSEs.
She thinks she would have rather died for real.