Like Magic

Chapter One

Summer 1968

Breakfast in the Pettigrew household was a rather unstructured affair. Beatrice Pettigrew thought herself to be an excellent, if scatter-brained, cook, and as often as not would try to make something fancy and delectable. Unfortunately her best efforts were her pastries. Maurice, her husband, would eat her creations, pronounce them exquisite, and then stop for the rest of his breakfast on his way to work. Ten-year-old Peter learned very early that it was wise to hold onto the rolls from the previous night's supper for his breakfast the next day.

Because it was Saturday, Mr Pettigrew did not have to rush out of the house on his way to work, dressed conservatively in his suit and tie. Instead, he wore his much more comfortable wizards robes to the breakfast table, and after a valiant effort with his wife's attempt at Quiche Lorraine, kissed Mrs Pettigrew on the cheek.

"I'm meeting Dedalus Diggle and Polaris Black at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch," he reminded Mrs Pettigrew, "so don't expect me until about two."

"Right," said Mrs Pettigrew. "Another scone before you go?"

"Er, no, thank you, dear," said Mr Pettigrew. "Where's Pete?"

"Outside, I think," said Mrs Pettigrew. They both peered out the window into the backyard garden. "Oh, dear!"

The garden wasn't very large, and the play area was made even less so by the extensive vegetable garden Mrs Pettigrew kept. That Mrs Pettigrew had such success with her garden was a mystery to all, considering the oak tree that kept the entire area in shade all day long. It was in this oak tree that Peter liked to sit, either reading to himself or talking with the neighbourhood children, most particularly the Evans girls next door.

But the Evans girls weren't there yet, and it was just as well. Peter sat in the oak tree, but he was laughing quite loudly as he flicked his toy wand at the various pumpkins, tomatoes, and cucumbers that tumbled and danced mid-air.

"If I've told him, once, I've told him a thousand times," grumbled Mr Pettigrew, and stepped smartly outside and to the base of the tree. "Peter Aaron Pettigrew! Put those vegetables down this instant."

Peter looked warily down at his father. "Er, all right," he said, and the vegetables lowered to the ground. "Sorry, Father, but no one was about this morning - "

"You know the rules, Pete," said Mr Pettigrew. "No magic where Muggles can see! Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Father," said Peter meekly.

"Good boy," said Mr Pettigrew. "Now, I'm going into Diagon Alley this morning, but when we get back we can Floo over to the pitch and play a spot of Quidditch, how does that sound?"

"Brilliant, Father," said Peter happily.

"There's a lad, and I'll see you then. And remember - "

"I know, I won't play with the vegetables, Father," said Peter. Mr Pettigrew smiled and him and went back inside the house to say goodbye to his wife.

For now, thought Peter.

* * * * *

Breakfast in the Evans household was a very structured affair. Mrs Evans would serve Mr Evans first, as he needed to hurry away quite early for work, even on a Saturday. As manager of his own drill company - Grunnings - Mr Evans went into work nearly every day of the week. Usually he was gone before Lily and Petunia even entered the kitchen for their meals. Ten-year-old Lily would have helped her younger sister tie her shoes and straighten her hair before they descended to the kitchen. Mrs Evans was particular about appearance, and Lily always hoped that she would not find fault with her younger daughter's dress. One day, perhaps.

This was not the case on this particular summer's day. "Your braids are uneven," said Mrs Evans flatly upon seeing Petunia. She stood at the stove, briskly stirring the jam that was simmering gently. Empty canning jars were scattered all over the kitchen. Mrs Evans looked up to see Lily and smiled widely. "Lily-bud, good morning!"

Lily cringed a bit at the pet name. "Good morning, mummy," she said, taking her plate from her mother, piled high with eggs and toast. The plate was bone china with hand-painted periwinkles around the edges. She sat at the table and watched as Petunia carefully carried her own chipped brown ceramic plate to the table, laden with a very small quantity of eggs and only one piece of slightly burnt toast. Lily quickly scraped half her eggs onto her sister's plate before her mother could notice.

Mrs Evans sat down across from the children and glared at Petunia's plate. Petunia slouched a bit more under the table, trying to escape. She tugged at her braid nervously.

"Lily-bud, dear, remember we have our artistic adventure later this afternoon," said Mrs Evans, sipping her tea.

"But, Mummy, it's the first day of vacation!" cried Lily. "I wanted to play with Peter and Tommy - "

Mrs Evans didn't seem to hear her. "I think the Master said today we are to paint ... from Nature!"

Lily crossed her arms, sulkily. Pets' hair isn't crooked at all, and I did my hair wrong on purpose, she thought glumly.

"Do sit up straight, Lily - perfect posture makes a perfect lady, remember!" said Mrs Evans blithely, and then glanced at her younger daughter. "Don't slouch, Petunia. It will make you uglier."

"Mummy!" said Lily, sitting up. "Why don't you take Pets to the art class? She can draw ever so much better than I can. Look!" She reached into her pocket and pulled out the drawing of the neighbourhood cat that Petunia had given her that morning. "Don't you see? You could almost touch it!"

Mrs Evans didn't touch the paper. "That's an odd looking animal. I haven't seen such a long neck on a - cat, did you say it was? Well - " she said looking at Petunia's long skinny neck "I suppose that's what you see, at least."

"But at least it looks like a cat," protested Lily. "Mine looked like a blob of circles."

Mrs Evans looked intently at her younger daughter. "You were both drawing? Whose paper did you use?"

"Mine, Mummy," said Lily, not quite catching on.

"I bought that paper for your sister's use, not yours," hissed Mrs Evans towards Petunia, who only began to slide farther down in her seat. "It is very expensive paper and I will not have you playing around with it!"

"But, Mummy," said Lily, looking worried that she'd put her sister into this mess, "Peter was drawing too. You told me Peter could use the paper, and I couldn't let him use it if Petunia wasn't allowed." Lily gulped - her mother still looked like she might bite Petunia's head off. Quickly, Lily added, "And his mother was right across the fence."

This did the trick. Mrs Evans had been trying to get onto her neighbour's good side for years, in hopes of learning her secrets regarding her vegetable garden. It was quite clear that Mrs Evans would do nearly anything to get on the good side of Beatrice Pettigrew.

"Well, then," said Mrs Evans, flustered. "I suppose it is all right - when Peter is over to play. Otherwise she can use the wrapping from the market."

Lily smiled at her younger sister, who smiled shakily back. "Mummy, may we play with Peter until it's time for my class?" asked Lily.

"Yes, go along," said Mrs Evans. "Petunia! Carry your dish to the sink! Haven't I told you time and time again?"

Petunia dutifully took her dish as well as Lily's to the sink, and followed her sister out the door, grateful that she was away.

"I hate her," she sniffed to Lily. "Why is she so mean always?"

"No, Pets!" said Lily. "She's not mean. She just wants you to be a better person."

"Can't she be nicer about it?" asked Petunia, crawling under the gap in the fence between the Evans' and Pettigrew's yards. Lily followed her.

"She's nice to me."

"I know," said Petunia. "I want her to be nice to me."

A voice from above them spoke. "I'm nice to you, Pets - isn't that enough?"

The girls looked up to see Peter Pettigrew sitting in the treetops above them. "Peter!" scolded Lily. "You might fall and get hurt!"

"Come on and jump up!" said Peter lazily, holding the stick he was forever carrying. Petunia immediately ran for the tree, hopping a bit as she came closer. One hop, two hops, and on the third hop she fairly flew through the air and landed on the branch six feet above the ground, laughing all the while.

"Why can't I hop so high when you aren't with me, Peter!" she laughed, clapping her hands.

Lily joined them on the branch. "I don't like it this high," she said to herself, gripping the bark tightly.

"I won't let you fall," said Peter, swinging his legs. "Say, Pets, I have a bit of ribbon from my mother's box; why don't we braid it into your hair?"

Petunia nodded eagerly and turned so that he and Lily could redo her braids.

Peter Pettigrew was one of the best boys on their street. He was fun to play with, since all sorts of amazing things happened when he was around, like being able to jump up onto a tree limb. He wasn't very strong, and he couldn't run the fastest, but he was one of the smartest boys they knew and usually was able to outwit anyone else who tried to top him. He came up with the best ways to get into trouble - but not always out of trouble. Everyone respected him, and because of that, they respected those he liked. And he liked Lily Evans.

But he worshipped her younger sister Petunia.

Petunia and Peter were a pair, almost from the very beginning. Peter and Lily would play together quite well, but they were seldom without the younger girl. Petunia and Peter would bend their heads together and whisper their secrets, and laugh the whole day long. Petunia never contradicted him, and he was the only person other than Lily whom she felt perfectly comfortable with. There was such a close bond between the two that Lily often felt a bit excluded.

That must be how Pets feels when Mummy pays attention to me, thought Lily when her sister and Peter would be in their own world, leaving her on the outside. But Lily didn't mind quite so much, because at the end of the day, Pets was still her sister.

As they finished Petunia's braids, chatting happily about their plans for the day and for the rest of the summer, a head popped up from another neighbouring garden.

"Hullo, Pete! Taken up hairdressing?" asked the shaggy blonde boy. His companions laughed.

Peter dropped down from the tree and glared at them. "Hullo, Tom, trying your hand at being a prat again this summer, are you?"

"We were going to the old canal and take a look around," said Tom. "Want to come with us?"

"There's all sorts of lovely squishy things down there," said the girl next to him.

"Like what?" asked Lily a bit suspiciously.

"Oh, slugs and voles, and water rats," said the girl dreamily.

"Slugs!" said Petunia, her eyes growing wide.

"They squish really nicely," said Tom, pushing his thumb into his palm to illustrate.

"Let's go," said Lily decisively. It might be fun, and Mummy wouldn't approve at all, she thought. She took Petunia's hand and jumped down from the tree.

"We could take some food and make a real day of it," continued Tom. "What say, Pete?"

"Food? Where will we get that?" scoffed Peter. And he followed every pair of eyes, staring straight at his mother's vegetable garden. "Oh, no!"

Mrs Pettigrew's garden was a sight to behold. Peas grew nearly to the roof of the house. Carrot tops were big as King Charles spaniels. Tomatoes as round as lawn bowling balls, strawberries that barely fit in the palm of your hand. But it was the pumpkins that drew all eyes.

"No, absolutely not," said Peter, crossing his arms. "My life is not long enough to go into Mum's garden."

"Oh, Peter, don't be such a sissy," laughed Lily, and grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the rows of vegetables. "She won't notice if we take only a few strawberries and carrots."

Mrs Pettigrew probably wouldn't have noticed anything was amiss, had she not been at that moment finishing the washing up from breakfast. She had been dreamily looking out onto the garden, and the squabbling children, listening in to their conversation, when she was startled awake by Lily taking Peter's arm and heading for the garden.

"Oh, dear!" she said, reaching for her wand. What Peter didn't know about her garden could fill a library, and that began with exactly how she kept small animals from eating her vegetables. Before she'd even laid her fingers on her wand, however, Mrs Pettigrew realized that not only had Lily entered the garden, she was already fast at work picking off strawberries and pulling up carrots, resting them in her skirt.

"Oh, dear," repeated Mrs Pettigrew, but this time she wasn't worried for the girl in the least. This time she was simply amazed. "How on earth did she get past my enchantments? Unless - "

Peter stood stock still next to Lily, eyes wide open. "Lily," he moaned. "My mum will kill us both!"

"What's the matter, Petey," taunted Tom. "Scared?" He laughed and began to swing back and forth on the gate.

"Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater!" The rest of the children laughed and began to join him. "Had a wife and couldn't keep her! Peter Peter pumpkin eater!"

Peter turned and glared at them, his hands clenching. "Stop it!" he yelled. "I said, sod off!"

At first Peter thought the others had stopped because of the obscenity he'd used. When Petunia pointed and jumped back, however, he realised it had nothing to do with his words, but with the largest of the pumpkins, broken free of its vine and spinning madly through the air at the singers. It crashed against the fence just as Tom and his friends ducked down. Cautiously their heads poked above the fence again, as Mrs Pettigrew stepped out onto the porch.

Peter looked to his mother, remembering exactly what his mother was capable of when angered. But Mrs Pettigrew, for once, didn't seem nearly as concerned about the loss of her best pumpkin as she might have done. She just gave Peter a very piercing look and said, "I should think that a pumpkin that size would be rather difficult to take to the canal, wouldn't it? I have some biscuits and pasties inside that would be far easier to carry."

"Thanks, Mrs Pettigrew," said Tom, climbing over the fence. "And a sack to carry them in?"

"Of course," said Mrs Pettigrew. "Go inside now, I think you have pumpkin seeds in your hair, dear." She turned to Peter and in a low voice, "Peter, behave yourself!"

"Yes, mum," mumbled Peter. He glanced over at Petunia, who smiled and ran up to him to take his hand.

"I got yelled at this morning too," she whispered to him sympathetically.

Peter squeezed her hand. "She shouldn't yell at you, Pets, you're too sweet."

"It's my own fault, anyway, my braids were crooked," said Petunia. They walked hand in hand into the side yard of the house, joining the other children who were stuffing their sacks with pasties and biscuits and bottles of juice that Mrs Pettigrew and Lily were handing to each child. None of them noticed that Mrs Evans had come to stand in her own garden until it was too late, and Mrs Evans had reached across the fence to grasp Petunia's upper arm in her own hand, wrenching her away from Peter.

"You were supposed to clear the breakfast dishes, young lady," said Mrs Evans, obviously angry with her daughter. Mrs Evans held Petunia's arm tightly, and a grimace of pain crossed her face.

"Mummy, I cleared them, like you asked," said Petunia, frightened. Peter glared at Mrs Evans, and then glared at the house next door. Mrs Pettigrew was about to step in when she was interrupted from an explosion coming from the rear of the Evans' house.

Mrs Evans dropped Petunia's arm and ran into the house through the front door. Mrs Pettigrew, Lily and Peter followed her, with the other children right behind them. They found Mrs Evans standing in the kitchen, now covered in red bits of jam from floor to ceiling. Mrs Evans moaned.

"Oh!" she stood staring around her, as a rather large bit of the fruit plopped down onto her shoulder. "My jam!"

"Now, Violet, I can help you clean this up in no time," said Mrs Pettigrew smoothly. "We'll have it ship-shape before the children return from the canal, right?" She entered the kitchen and patted Mrs Evans on the arm, while the children remained in the doorway, peeking in.

"No, this is Petunia's fault, she can clean it," said Mrs Evans firmly. "If she hadn't disappeared when I specifically told her to stay, I could have been watching my jam instead of looking for her. Petunia! Where are you?"

The small girl pushed her way through the crowd. "Here, Mummy," she whispered.

Mrs Pettigrew's mouth pursed, and she glanced back at the children, still huddled around the door. "Now, children, you should probably start out towards the canal, or you won't make it back in time for supper," she chided them, shooing them out of the house. "Violet, I think you could do with a spot of tea. Why don't we pop over to my kitchen and we'll have a cup."

Mrs Evans eyes shone, thinking of the garden next door, and possibly learning its secrets. "Oh - tea, yes. Let me - "

"Of course," smiled Mrs Pettigrew, and urged Lily and Peter, who still stood at the doorway looking towards Petunia forlornly, out of the house."

"Mum," whispered Peter frantically, "I didn't think she'd get so mad."

In a low voice so only her son could hear, Mrs Pettigrew replied. "Never mind that; your father will chat with you tonight." She took the wand from his hand and put it in her pocket. Peter's mouth opened in surprise as his mother had never taken his wand before. She shooed him off with the other children.

"Go on, now," she said to the children. "Catch up with your friends, they're likely halfway to the canal by now. Don't worry about Petunia, I'll keep an eye out for her." Mrs Pettigrew watched them as they ran off, still looking over their shoulders with concern.

I wonder. That would be something now, wouldn't it, if Lily had the ability? Now that I think on it, there is an good amount of power radiating from this house; I wonder that I never noticed it before? I'll have to keep an eye on her when they play.

Mrs Pettigrew hurried over to her own house, noticing that Mrs Evans stood on the edge of her garden. Mrs Pettigrew smiled to herself. At least those Repelling Charms work on someone, she thought, which gave her an idea. She pointed her own wand behind her towards the Evans' kitchen and muttered a few words. There, that should make the poor dear's work easier.

"Violet, here you are!" she said brightly, and reached for the woman's arm to lead her gently away from her garden. "How about that tea?"

When Mrs Evans came back into the kitchen some time later, she nodded her relief that the room was once more spotless. Without a word, she picked up the exhausted girl with chapped red hands, brushed back the damp tendrils from thin red cheeks, and popped her into the cupboard under the stair.

"But Mum!" cried out Petunia, finally waking to what was happening, "I cleaned the kitchen, I worked all morning!"

"Not enough punishment," snapped Mrs Evans, and shut the door, throwing the lock.

The grill gave Petunia just little slivers of light, falling on her face streaked with tears. Petunia began to scream and kick against the door, frightened out of her skin of the dark and the spiders she was sure were lurking in the corners. But no one seemed to hear her, and finally she fell to the floor, sobbing herself to sleep.

* * * * *

Peter and Lily were climbing over the Evans back fence from the canal with in an hour to check on Petunia first thing. Peter was hoping to postpone the intended conversation with his father. But his mother's voice defeated his idea almost immediately. " Peter, your father is home," she called him. "Why don't you have that chat with him now?"

Peter gulped and nodded. "Bye, Lily," he said in a small voice to the girl. She watched him go, wondering why he was in trouble. Peter felt his stomach plummet as he went inside. Mr Pettigrew was still in his wizard robes, sitting in the parlour reading that day's copy of The Daily Prophet. He looked up when Peter entered the room.

"Ah, back already? Have a good time at the canal?" he asked cheerily. He put down the newspaper. Peter saw his wand in his father's robe pocket. His stomach dropped.

"Yes, sir," said Peter, standing in front of him, hands at his sides.

"Don't look so glum, son, you aren't in trouble," said Mr. Pettigrew kindly. Mr. Pettigrew never shouted or raised his voice, but he had a way of lecturing that made one regret having done anything foolish, for the mere sake of having to listen to his lecture.

"I didn't mean for the jam to explode like that, Father," said Peter.

"Oh, that, I understand about that, son," said Mr Pettigrew. "From what your mother tells me, you were upset and merely let your emotions get out of hand. Now, you do need to work on your control, but that's something you'll learn at Hogwarts when you go in another year. No, son, I want to talk to you about the pumpkin."

"The pumpkin?" asked Peter, trying to remember. When he did, he couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, the pumpkin," said his father sternly. "You did mean to make that pumpkin roll towards the fence, didn't you, Pete?"

"Er, well, yes," said Peter. "I mean, I didn't stop to think about it, I just let it happen. But that's what I wanted, so I didn't lose control of it or anything - "

Mr. Pettigrew sighed. "Peter, you never do think about it, do you? What did we talk about this morning?"

"Oh. No magic where Muggles can see."

"And what did we discuss last night?"

"No magic where Muggles can see," repeated Peter, having a pretty good idea where this was going.

"And last week? And the week before that?" continued Mr Pettigrew. Peter didn't answer him, and his father sighed again, lowering his head into his hands. "Pete, you understand why I have to be so strict about this, don't you," he said.

"Yes, Father," said Peter glumly. "Muggles don't know about magic and we shouldn't tell them."

"It's more than just that, Pete. Muggles - well, they're afraid of what they don't understand. It's not their fault, it's just the way they are," said Mr Pettigrew. "There is nothing in the world they understand less than magic. If our neighbours knew that we were magical - well, Pete, you're too young to fully understand the consequences. It's best just to not let them know that we're different, or why. Especially why."

Mr Pettigrew put his hand onto Peter's shoulder. "Pete, I don't mean to be harsh, but this is vitally important. You must never do magic where Muggles might see you. You must never discuss magic where Muggles might hear you. Above all, you must not let anyone know you are anything but a regular, normal Muggle boy." With that Mr Pettigrew placed Peter's wand on the highest shelf far above Peter's reach. Peter stared up at the shelf.

"No wand for a week, no leaving the yard for a week. And I am sorry for that because I had arranged with Polaris Black for you to play Quidditch with his son today. I have to owl Black to see if we can change the date to next week." With that he patted Peter on the head and left the room.

Peter stared up at the shelf and thought how much he wanted his wand back.

"I want my wand back. I want my wand back, I want my wand back." He was surprised when he suddenly saw it roll to the shelf edge. "I want my wand back, I want my wand." It teetered on the edge. Peter put his hand out and it fell into it. He turned quickly and ran to the Evans house.

Peter was surprised to find the front door wide open. Lily was in the front hallway, pulling on the door to the cupboard under the stairs.

"Oh, Peter!" she said when she saw him. "Mummy locked Pets in the cupboard because of the mess, and I can't open the door."

Peter put his ear to the door. "I think she's asleep," he reported after a moment.

"Can't you open the door?" said Lily, still frantic. "There's spiders in the cupboard, and Pets is afraid of them."

Peter bit his lip. I don't care if Father said not to, he thought. Pets can't stay in there! Peter reached for the handle and pulled on it as hard as he could. The door flew open, revealing Petunia, fast asleep on the various blankets on the floor, her eyes puffy and her face streaked with dry tears.

Peter and Lily crawled into the space next to her. "I should have stayed to help her with the kitchen," said Lily sadly.

"It wasn't your fault, Lily," said Peter. "It was me, anyway."

"What do you mean, it was you?" asked Lily. "You weren't in the kitchen when the jam exploded. What did you do?"

"I - " Peter stammered. Doing magic in front of Lily was one thing, but explaining it was something else.

"Lily!" called Mrs Evans from the back of the house, startling both children. "It's time for our art class!"

"I have to go," said Lily.

"I'll stay with her," said Peter. "You go, before your Mum finds us."

Lily nodded and kissed Petunia's cheek. After a pause, she kissed Peter's cheek too.

"You're the best friend we have," she whispered, before slipping out of the cupboard, closing the door behind her.

Some best friend I am, thought Peter miserably as he stroked Petunia's hair out of her face. I can't even tell her how I got the door open, or that I got Pets into this mess in the first place. But I couldn't let Pets stay in here, maybe waking up all alone. I'd do it again if I had to, I won't let anything happen to her that I can stop, even if it does mean doing magic around her.

But she and Lily already know that I do magic. Well, they sort of know. And they aren't afraid of me. Why do we have to live with Muggles, anyway, if they're so afraid of us? And what would they do, if they knew? I hope Lily and Pets aren't ever so scared of me that they won't be friends anymore. I won't tell them, I guess, if it means that they'd hate me for it. I would hate for Pets to hate me.

The small form beside him began to stir, and Peter rested his hand on her shoulder to let her know she wasn't alone. Petunia began to struggle, afraid, and Peter spoke gently to her.

"Shh, Pets, it's only me," whispered Peter.

"How did you get in?" Petunia replied, wrapping her arms around the older boy.

"I made your mum's jam explode, but I didn't know she'd get so mad," he confessed. "I'm awful sorry it got you into trouble."

"Mummy will be mad if she knows you're here," said Petunia, unwilling to let it go.

"Shh, she won't find out. I promise."

Petunia was quiet for a moment. "Did you have fun squashing slugs?"

"No, not without you. Lily and I came back early to find you."

Petunia pulled away and tried to look at him. "But you like squashing slugs!"

"You needed me more," said Peter. "I'll always come when you need me, Pets."

"Promise?"

"I swear."