Like Magic

Chapter Three

Mid-summer 1969

It was early morning in mid July when two owls glided into Surrey. They landed in the front yards of two neighbouring homes and dropped their letters into the appropriate boxes before flying away again.

The owls were long gone by the time Geoffrey Evans gathered the morning's mail before breakfast. A postcard from a business associate on holiday in Spain; a request for a donation to an overseas Children's Aid fund; a bill for the newspaper delivery. And a strange, square parchment envelope sealed in red wax.

"Hullo, what's this?" he said to himself, turning it over. "Lily's name -- in green ink? Must be some odd school invitation. Lily!" He called up the stairs to his daughter. "There's a letter for you!" And with that he set the letter on the post and went into the kitchen for his tea.

Lily ran down the stairs two at a time. "Pets, I think it's a letter from Sunbury Manor!" she said excitedly to her younger sister, who was close behind. She grabbed the envelope and saw the seal.

"That's funny!"

"Isn't it from Sunbury?" asked Petunia, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"No, it says Hogwarts," said Lily, confused. "What's that?"

Petunia's mouth dropped open. "Oh! Isn't that the school Peter kept talking about?"

"But I never applied there," said Lily. "Why would they send me a letter?"

"They might say, if you read it," said Petunia. Lily ripped open the envelope and read it aloud for her sister.

Dear Miss Evans,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1. Please respond by owl no later than July 31.

Lily began to laugh. "Oh, Pets, what a joke! You and Peter are too funny!"

"Joke?" asked Petunia, brows furrowing. "Peter and I didn't write that."

"And green ink of all things!" continued Lily, looking at the envelope. "Nice try, Pets, you had me wondering there for a moment or two!" Lily tore up the envelope and letter and tossed it into the fire on her way into the kitchen.

"I don't even own green ink!" wailed Petunia, but no one heard her.

* * * * *

The following morning, Mr Evans overslept and didn't have a chance to check the post before he left. Neither Lily nor Petunia thought to open the box for themselves, and instead played with Peter for most of the day. Peter had been acting oddly, trying to find out if Lily had received any mail. Lily decided not to play into his game and refused to answer, which only made Peter more determined for an answer.

No one looked in the box for the mail until Mr Evans came home for supper. "Lily, you have another one of those invitations," he said, dropping the green inked envelope on her lap.

"Oh, that Peter!" Lily groaned, and crumpled the envelope up without even looking at it, and tossed it into the rubbish bin and promptly forgot it.

* * * * *

"Mum, I don't think she's reading her letters," said Peter to his mother over his breakfast flakes the next day.

"Pete, how can you know that?"

"She hasn't said anything to me at all about it. And I know she got her letter the same day I did; I was watching and I saw her owl deliver it."

Beatrice Pettigrew sipped at her tea, thinking. "I suppose it is possible that we'll have to do something, Pete. I'm surprised that no one from the school has come by to check on her yet?"

Peter squirmed uncomfortably. "Maybe they think you should."

Mrs Pettigrew scoffed. "That's ridiculous -- it isn't as if it's common knowledge that we live next to the Evans -- " She eyed her son suspiciously.

"I sort of ran into Mr Crouch one day in London when I was with them," said Peter in a very small voice. "And he knew they lived next door." Mrs Pettigrew sighed and set down her cup.

"Well then," she said. "I suppose that settles it. Come, Pete, we're going to sit in the garden for a bit and wait for the postman. Bring a bit of toast with you."

Mrs Pettigrew hadn't been sitting in the garden for very long when Lily came outside. She opened the post box and peered inside, reaching for the letters. When she stood up again, she nearly jumped out of her skin -- sitting on the top of the box was a large tawny owl.

"How did I miss seeing you?" she asked. She looked at the letters in her hand, and gasped. The first three letters were addressed to her, in green ink.

"Not again!" she groaned. Then she felt something brush her shoulder and looked up.

There was another owl -- this one snowy white -- sitting on the mailbox next to the first. Lily looked around her and saw a third, and fourth, and fifth owl, sitting on the fence and in the tree. The snowy owl hooted softly, and Lily looked at it, amazed to see it holding out its leg, to which was tied a letter, made out to Miss Lily Evans, in green ink.

"Mummy!" shouted Lily. "Mummy, Pets, come quick!" Mrs Evans and Petunia came running out of the house. Petunia stopped in the middle of the garden, mouth dropped open, as the owls flapped their wings and hooted a greeting. Mrs Evans put her hand to her heart and gasped.

"Oh, my!"

"Good morning, Violet, girls," said Mrs Pettigrew from across the fence. She leaned on it, arms crossed and smiling.

"Morning, Beatrice," said Mrs Evans. "Have you ever seen so many owls at once? And in the daylight, too?"

"Oh, not quite so many as this, I'm afraid," replied Mrs Pettigrew. "But I do have one or two stop by daily with my mail."

Mrs Evans looked confused. "Excuse me?"

"Lily, I think he's waiting for you to untie your letter," said Mrs Pettigrew to the girl, motioning to the owl.

"Oh! Will he let me?" she asked, reaching to him. The owl blinked back at her, unmoving, and Lily cautiously untied the letter. The owl hooted softly before taking to wing and flying away. The other owls quickly followed him, flying around the yard and brushing Petunia with their wings. She shrieked a bit and covered her head with her arms.

"Why don't you open it and we'll see what it says?" suggested Mrs Pettigrew.

"Oh, it's only a joke, I think -- I got several others and I've thrown them all away," said Lily, but she didn't laugh, and she didn't dare look at Peter, standing behind his mother.

"These, you mean?" asked Mrs Pettigrew, reaching into her pocket and drawing out one crumpled letter and one slightly burnt letter. Lily's mouth dropped open.

"But it's just a joke! Peter and Pets are playing with me -- " Her voice fluttered a bit. "Aren't they?"

"No, dear. Hogwarts is the premiere school for witchcraft and wizardry in England. It's quite real, not imaginary at all."

"But there's no such thing as witches," said Mrs Evans. "This is just a childish prank."

Mrs Pettigrew smiled. "If you say so, Violet." And she reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand. She pointed it at the fence, which folded like draperies and allowed her to pass through into the Evans' yard. Once she was through, the fence unfolded itself again and settled in its original position.

Mrs Evans and Petunia stared at Mrs Pettigrew as if she had sprouted horns. Petunia began to shake a little, and hid behind the tree. But Lily stood still, eyes shinning, clutching her letters. She held her breath, not even daring to wonder what it meant.

Mrs Evans began to stammer. "Geoffrey nailed those himself last week. I watched him do it!"

"Can I do that?" blurted out Lily.

Mrs Pettigrew smiled at her, relieved that Lily at least believed in magic at last. "If you study hard, yes. You'll be able to do that and so much more besides."

Mrs Evans sat down on the bench heavily. "I just don't -- oh, I feel faint."

Mrs Pettigrew patted her arm. "Now, now," she soothed. "Come and I'll fix you a nice cup of tea and we'll have a chat. Perhaps we can ring Geoffrey and see if he might not come home a spot early today?" Mrs Pettigrew eased Mrs Evans into the house, leaving the children in the garden.

"I told you there was nothing to worry about!" said Peter, who was hopping up and down in his garden, desperate to see his friend's face. "You're not going to the comprehensive or the local grammar now!"

"You knew!" said Lily. "You knew a year ago, didn't you? Why didn't you say something?"

"I wasn't s'posed to know," said Peter. "And I tried to tell you, you just wouldn't believe me." He finally caught the fence post and leaned over. "What do you think? We'll be at school together after all!"

"I don't know what to think," said Lily slowly. "I never thought. That was how you could look into our windows? And how we'd jump so much higher when we played with you?"

"Bang on! I give you full marks!" cheered Peter.

"Have you been there, to -- er -- what was it called again?"

"Hogwarts," said Peter cheerily. "No, but mum and dad have pictures of it. Want to see? I'll float you over the fence!"

"Yes!" cried Lily, and in a moment she half jumped and half flew over the fence into the Pettigrew's yard, and the two disappeared into the house.

Petunia stood staring after them. She was about to shout for them to wait for her, but realized they were already gone. "Oh!" she cried softly to herself, and stared at the fence, feeling more alone than she'd ever felt in her life. Lily's never left me like that, she thought with despair. And Mrs Pettigrew never ignored me before. Her eyes began to well up with tears. She ran into the house, hearing the dishes clatter in the kitchen. But she didn't go in, and instead slipped into the cupboard under the stairs, where she began to cry.

* * * * *

The telephone call to Geoffrey Evans had not gone terribly well.

"Lily .... school .... owls ... home .... oh, Geoffrey!" had been all Mrs Evans had been able to manage. This, obviously, did not serve to calm Mr Evans.

"What's happened? Where's Lily?" he barked over the telephone, so loudly even Mrs Pettigrew, who was quietly searching through cupboards, locating the sugar and tea leaves. She didn't dare use magic to look around just yet, considering she didn't know where everything was -- besides, Mrs Evans was far too upset to even think of alarming her further.

"Is she injured? What hospital?" Mr Evans continued to shout. "Where do I go? Violet, talk to me!"

Mrs Evans could only sob uncontrollably. Mrs Pettigrew sighed and pried the receiver from her hand. "Geoffrey, this is Beatrice Pettigrew. Lily is quite all right. However, if you could come straight home, it would be so helpful, as your wife is quite a wreck. No, no, Geoffrey, this is excellent news for Lily! Please don't worry! Geoffrey? Geoffrey!" She looked at the receiver, now emitting a long tone. "Oh dear. He hung up. I think we might have alarmed him."

Mrs Evans choked back a sob. Mrs Pettigrew hung the receiver back up and patted her shoulder. "Now, dear, there's no need for concern. I thought this might happen so I warned a few friends, and they'll be watching out for him. I dare say he'll drive like a maniac to get here, won't he? Now, about that tea -- "

Mrs Pettigrew was not far from wrong. Mr Evans barely noticed the cars and trees leaping out of his path as the Austin Martin careened down the motorway. A quick memory charm on a passing police car took care of any speeding ticket, and somehow the lights were always green in his direction. It wasn't terribly long before the little silver car screamed into the street and up onto the curb in front the Evans' home. Mr Evans was out of the vehicle and through the front door in a flash, pausing only a moment outside the cupboard under the stairs to look at it curiously.

"What is going on, Violet?" he roared upon entering the kitchen. Mrs Pettigrew sat at the kitchen table, handing his wife tissues one at a time, which Violet then dropped in an ever-growing pile around her.

"Lily ... school ... owls." And Violet burst into a new round of sobbing.

"My God, the girl can't have been sent down before term even begins, can she?" he asked, mystified. In that very instant he became aware that Mr Pettigrew was standing directly next to him. Mr Evans jumped back in surprise.

"Hullo, Pettigrew. Didn't see you there."

Mr Pettigrew nodded his head, a strange smile playing at his lips. "I just popped in to be of assistance."

"Assistance? Does this look like a parlour game?" thundered Mr Evans. "Where is my daughter?"

"I believe she's with Peter at the moment," said Mr Pettigrew calmly. "Actually, Bea and I thought this might be an ideal time to explain the circumstances regarding Lily's schooling."

"Ideal?" roared Mr Evans. "What in blazes are you thinking, man? My wife is in tears, I have been pulled out of a very important meeting, and I'm fairly certain that Petunia is in the cupboard under the stairs crying."

"Oh, dear," said Mrs Pettigrew.

"Pray tell me, what does an inconvenient time resemble to you people?" continued Mr Evans. His face had grown quite red.

"If you will bear with my wife and I," said Mr Pettigrew. "Please, sit down for just a moment. I promise we can explain."

The kettle on the cooker began to whistle. "Tea?" asked Mrs Pettigrew brightly.

Violet Evans thought she had never heard such a lovely word in her life. "Oh, yes, please," she managed to say, relieved. "I'll just get -- "

She began to stand, but gave a startled shriek and fell back to her seat as she watched her china tea service lift itself off the counter and float to the table. The fridge popped open and the milk poured itself into the creamer. Little slices of lemon began to arrange themselves near the teacups, which began to deliver themselves full of hot tea to everyone at the table.

Mrs Evans realised she hadn't taken a breath in a bit, and inhaled sharply.

"Violet -- "said Mr Evans in a very strange and very strangled tone. "What on earth is going on here?"

"Geoffrey," began Mr Pettigrew, as his wife was slicing the cake, "there isn't a very easy way to say this. I suppose you know of the letters that your daughter has been receiving?"

"Green ink," mumbled Mr Evans. "No stamp. Quite odd."

"Yes," said Mr Pettigrew. "They are from a very fine old school; it's where Bea and I attended, actually. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your daughter Lily is a witch, as our son Peter is a wizard. Bea and I are magical as well, our entire family line is magical."

Mr and Mrs Evans looked at their neighbours, completely astonished, with the exact same thought in their heads: The Pettigrews are certifiably insane. It was completely quiet for a moment.

"Ah," said Mr Evans. "You -- ah -- er -- I mean -- you don't own a cat."

Mr Pettigrew chuckled. "No sir, although I do own quite a nice set of robes for wear among other wizards and witches. And I can fly a broomstick though I do just for the sport now. It's much faster to Apparate."

Mrs Evans picked up her tea, looking at it. The cup was warm in her hands; the tea smelled lemony. She could see the steam rise and she quickly began to sip it. Mrs Pettigrew smiled at her, and Mrs Evans tried to smile back.

"It's a bit of a shock, I know," she said kindly. "We magical folk try so hard to keep ourselves from Muggles, I know it can't be easy to learn about us."

"What's a Muggle?" asked Mrs Evans. It was perhaps her first complete sentence in the last hour, and her voice was very small.

"Muggles are non-magical folk, like yourselves," explained Mr Pettigrew.

"Is that an insult -- Muggle?" asked Mr Evans, stiffening.

"No, no -- not for us," said Mrs Pettigrew firmly. "It's a kind of shorthand. Honestly, I don't know where it comes from -- do you, dear?" Mr Pettigrew shook his head. "There are terms that some wizards use for Muggles that aren't meant kindly, of course, but we never use them."

"Don't you like Mu-Muggles -- I mean, us?" asked Mrs Evans.

Mrs Pettigrew was taken aback. "Of course! I have lived among you for nearly eleven years now, and Violet, I consider you one of my closest neighbours. To me it is such a stroke of luck that your Lily and my Peter can go to Hogwarts together. It isn't terribly often that a Muggle family will have a magical child, you know!"

"Why is that?" asked Mr Evans. "How do you know she's magical? How can she be magical? I've never heard of something like this in my family."

"Mine either," put in Mrs Evans.

"I don't exactly know," admitted Mrs Pettigrew. "It can happen the opposite way as well -- a non-magical child being born to two wizarding parents. Of course, that happens less often than children like Lily."

"As for how the Ministry of Magic found her," continued Mr Pettigrew, "there is a special division set up to keep tabs on children born to Muggle parents who have magical powers. They spotted Lily right away, from what I understand. Not so much as they knew that the magical person in question was Lily, only that there was a person in this house who was a witch or wizard. And as you are both Muggles, that person must be Lily."

"And I believe that Lily is quite strong, magically speaking," added Mrs Pettigrew. "Why, one day I saw her lift both Mrs Parkhurst and her poodle clear off the street and onto the grass, when a lorry was thundering down the road towards them both! Simply amazing! I doubt that Peter himself could have done it, and he can levitate anything in sight."

"What?" asked Mr Pettigrew. "Bea, you know he shouldn't be playing with magic yet!"

"Oh, he doesn't know I know," said Mrs Pettigrew calmly. "And I keep my eye on him to make sure he doesn't get into something he can't get out of."

"How many others are magical?" asked Mr Evans. "Are any of the other neighbours magical?"

"No, we are the only ones in this neighbourhood, I believe," said Mr Pettigrew. "I know Peter is the only magical boy in his grade. But you'd be surprised," he chuckled, "how many people throughout history are magical, that you just don't know about."

Mr Evans thought for a moment. "Anne Boleyn."

"Oh, magical. King Harry was a Muggle, of course, and Elizabeth was a witch as well. She didn't use her powers, though -- she saw what being a witch had brought her mother."

"Then are you all spread about?" asked Mrs Evans.

"Mostly, though there are areas where there are more wizarding families than not," said Mrs Pettigrew. "In fact, we're a bit of the exception to the rule, living among Muggles as we do."

"Why then, do you live here?" asked Mrs Evans slowly.

"My job brings me here," said Mr Pettigrew. "I work as a liaison between the Prime Minister and the Ministry of Magic. It's important that I appear to be non-magical for those who don't know my true position within the government." He glanced at Mr Evans, aware that the man was increasingly conscious of his neighbour's position.

This reminded Mr Evans of someone else. "Neville Chamberlain."

"As sorry a Muggle ever to hold office," said Mr Pettigrew solemnly.

"Then the government is aware of you?" asked Mrs Evans, surprised.

"Of course!" said Mr Pettigrew. "That is part of my job, in fact. Only a very small percentage of any country's government is aware of the wizarding community, and I work to ensure that it stays that way. After all, there are many overlaps between our communities to cover -- transportation, schooling, finances, and the like."

"Merlin," said Mr Evans. Mrs Evans glared at him.

"The stories are very true on his account," said Mrs Pettigrew. "As well as Morgan LeFay -- don't forget about her!"

"But if Lily is magical -- what will happen to her?" asked Mrs Evans. "What can she do, when she's done with her schooling? Will we be able to see her again?"

"Of course!" said Mrs Pettigrew, reaching out to her neighbour. "Is that what has been worrying you, Violet? Lily has a whole world of options open to her, and she can visit you, even live with you if she likes after her schooling is complete. She won't be lost to you, I can promise you that."

Mrs Evans smiled, and reached for Mrs Pettigrew's hand in response, squeezing it.

But Mr Evans was not to be deterred. "Sophia Loren," he said decisively.

"Oh, she isn't a witch," said Mr Pettigrew. "She's a veela. Now, Vivien Leigh, she's a witch -- how else do you think she bested all those American actresses for the role of Scarlet O'Hara?"

* * * * *

Petunia stayed in her cupboard for most of the afternoon. Eventually she crawled out of her cupboard and began to creep up to her bedroom, where she was most comfortable. Besides, the spiders in the cupboard were beginning to crawl over her, and Petunia hated spiders worse than anything.

"I rather like the idea of Lily going to this school, Geoffrey," Mrs Evans was saying in the kitchen. "Bea made it sound so homey, and those pictures that Lily and Peter brought over -- my, it's grand, isn't it?"

"Mind you, it won't come cheap," said Mr Evans. "And this list of supplies! I don't know where one could find half these things."

"Oh, Bea knows where to go. We thought we'd pop over to London with the children, make a day of it. I shall leave Petunia here with Mrs Parkhurst."

"When did you plan this?" laughed Mr Evans.

"You were too busy asking her husband about Field Marshall Montgomery and the first Duke of Marlborough!" replied Mrs Evans. "Honestly! I think it might be nice to have a witch in the family, Geoffrey. Convenient, I should imagine."

"Yes," said Mr Evans. "Lily seems to like the idea as well. And she won't be alone -- that Peter chap will be with her."

Petunia slipped up the stairs. So Peter was going away as well, and worse, away with Lily. She was going to be alone, just like she was today.

"It's not fair," she whispered to herself as she fell asleep. "Not fair at all."

When Petunia woke several hours later, she knew she wasn't alone-- on either side of her was a body, one was Lily and one was Peter. Peter's eyes were open, and he smiled when he saw Petunia awake.

"Hey, Pets, we were looking all over for you," He whispered. "Where did you go?"

"You're both leaving me," Petunia said accusingly. "You promised you wouldn't both leave me."

"We're not leaving you, exactly, Pets," said Peter. "It's just for a few years, and then you'll be at Hogwarts too. We're scoping the place out for you, that's all."

Petunia thought about this. "You'll forget about me."

"Nah-- Lily won't let me. If I so much as blink at another girl, she'll knock my head off. Go back to sleep. I heard Mum tell my father that we're going to Diagon Alley in the morning to get our school things."

"Me too?" asked Petunia, her spirits rising a bit.

"You too," confirmed Peter, and Petunia fell asleep again, this time smiling.

***************************

Mrs Parkhurst had planned her day very carefully. First, she would walk Poodles. On the way home she would stop by the Evans home and pick up little Petunia, who she would watch for the day while the girl's mother and sister when into London for school things. Poodles and Petunia both in tow, Mrs Parkhurst thought a nice trip to the cemetery to sit by Mr Parkhurst's graveside for several hours and knit would be exactly right.

Mrs Parkhurst had no imagination whatsoever.

Therefore Mrs Parkhurst was quite disturbed to find that when she descended to the kitchen in the morning, that Poodles, who was normally white, had suddenly and un-explained neon green fur. Mrs Parkhurst screamed, and attempted to wash it off, thinking that it was paint. It was not -- even Poodles skin was neon green.

Mrs Parkhurst called the Evans residence to inform Mrs Evans that she could not possibly watch over Petunia that day. Poodles had to see the veterinarian immediately.

Peter, crouched beneath the Parkhurst kitchen window, giggled softly to himself, and crawled out of the brambles and back to his own yard before his mother noticed that her wand was missing.

Mrs Evans began the morning perturbed. Mrs Parkhurst, normally so reliable, had cancelled on her, and now Petunia had to accompany them to London. Mr Evans might have been able to care for the girl except there was an emergency at Grunnings (something about a drill press going haywire), and not only did this leave Petunia without any sort of caretaker at all, but it meant that Mrs Evans was entirely in charge of changing her pounds into wizard money: she had always been able to put things "on account" and then have Geoffrey Evans pay the bills. Therefore, she had a pursed expression on her face for most of the train ride into London.

It was a three block walk to the Leaky Cauldron from the closest Tube station, and with each step Lily could feel herself growing more and more excited. She felt as though her joy might lift her right off the street and flying above the buildings. Petunia clutched her hand tightly, growing more nervous the closer they came to Diagon Alley. Mrs Evans sniffed, looking around the buildings that were growing distinctively shabby. Such a run-down old street, she thought with a grimace. A good thing I didn't wear white.

"Here we are," announced Mrs Pettigrew brightly, stopping in front of a dark door sandwiched in between a bookseller and a consignment shop.

Lily looked up at the sign above the door. "The Leaky Cauldron," she read.

Mrs Evans looked up and saw a sign that was so worn she couldn't read it. "You can read that?" she asked. "I can't even see the letters."

"The Leaky Cauldron," said Mrs Pettigrew. "Come right in Violet, girls -- the entrance to Diagon Alley is in the back." She opened the door and slipped inside.

Peter had nearly followed her when he turned around to see why the Evans weren't behind him. "Er, aren't you coming?"

Mrs Evans grasped Lily's hand all the tighter and lifted her chin. She marched with all the bravery she could muster through the door and into the building, quite certain that if the door slammed too hard, the walls might fall around her ears.

What all three Evanses saw was directly out of a Charles Dickens novel.

The Leaky Cauldron had a quiet serenity to it. The noise of the London street seemed to dissipate within the pub. The people sitting at various oddly shaped tables talked quietly to one another, some smoking very odd looking pipes. There was no music actually playing, but the sound of glasses clinking and the feet shuffling and general laughter seemed to create a symphony in itself that was mesmerizing and calming all at once.

The biggest surprise, of course, was that everyone was wearing what appeared to be long straight dresses. Lily would have thought that she was surrounded by judges, except that not a single robe in the room was black -- instead, the robes were green and red and blue, made of silks or velvet with trims that were luxurious and Petunia was positive she saw one that changed colours when she looked closely at it. Nearly everyone in the room was an adult, and some of them looked at the children as if they might be good for dinner, once fattened up a bit.

"Peter," whispered Lily, "why is everyone dressed so oddly? Like they were living a hundred years ago? And wearing so many cloaks and robes?"

Peter shrugged. "It's just the way some wizards are. Most wear robes all the time."

"Your parents don't wear robes," said Petunia.

"They do after a bathe," said Lily, and Peter rolled his eyes.

A crash from the table next to them broke the conversation, and all three children stopped to stare. Two men were sitting there, with what resembled a chessboard and chess pieces on the table between them. But were the pieces moving themselves?

Peter leaned over to whisper in Petunia's ear. "It's called Wizards Chess. The pieces take out one another to win." As he said the last word a knight swung its sword breaking a rook.

Petunia's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. "But -- it's broken! Won't the other man be mad?"

"Don't worry, Pets! They'll right themselves after this game."

"Like magic?"

"Not like," said Peter with a grin. "It is magic!"

Mrs Pettigrew and Mrs Evans had been trying to move through the large main room while Peter and Petunia watched the chess game, though this was more of a feat than it sounds. Mrs Pettigrew kept being stopped by various people to say hello, or ask a question, or inquire about her health. And she always introduced Mrs Evans and her daughters to everyone who stopped her -- even the barkeep.

"Morning, Mrs Pettigrew," he said gaily. "I see young Peter is with you today. Getting your school things are youse?"

"Good morning, Tom," said Peter, pleased to be remembered.

"And who is your young lady?" asked Tom with a wink.

"Her name is Petunia," said Peter, as Petunia began to blush. She noticed that Peter didn't correct the man, and she felt pleased.

"Tom, so good to see you again," said Mrs Pettigrew. "Petunia is the younger sister of one of Peter's classmates, Lily Evans. She'll be starting at Hogwarts this year as well. And her mother, Violet."

Tom bowed low to Mrs Evans, who briskly nodded her head, and to Lily, who giggled. "Honoured I'm sure," he said. "Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron! Will you be having refreshment before you go?"

"Perhaps as we leave, Tom," said Mrs Pettigrew. "We have quite a list and I am anxious to be home when Maurice returns."

"Aye, he's in here often enough, what with all the long hours," said Tom sagely. "All the gossip goin' round -- he doing anything with that?"

"No, no, not yet, I hope it doesn't get that bad," said Mrs Pettigrew. "Never mind -- little pitchers and all." She and Tom nodded at each other, both thinking that they would owl each other that evening.

"Have a lovely shop then, ladies and gentleman!" Tom winked at Peter. "And stop by when you're done to rest your toesies and have a butterbeer, on the house, to celebrate the young ones' new year at Hogwarts!"

Peter grinned. "Thanks, Tom!"

Mrs Pettigrew had only just turned around when she found herself face to face with a very thin and very short woman with large, sparkly glasses and so many beaded necklaces, Lily couldn't tell what colour her robes were. "Beatrice, dear, I knew I would find you here," she said dreamily.

"Good morning, Sybill," said Mrs Pettigrew politely, if a bit cool.

"But you have company -- ah, yes, this must be Lily Evans, is it not? I had Seen you were starting at Hogwarts this year."

Lily looked up at the woman, a bit confused. Does everyone in the wizarding world know about me already? It can't be that unusual for Muggle children like me to be magical, can it? she thought to herself. "Hello," she said.

"Yes, Sibyll, this is Lily," said Mrs Pettigrew. "And her mother, Violet, and her younger sister, Petunia."

The woman turned to look at Petunia as if she had only just seen her, and jumped a bit, startled. Then she did a very odd thing indeed. She reached out to touch Petunia's hair -- and just as the moment of contact, her hand sprang back as if burnt. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open in horror. "Oh -- I --- must be going. Bea -- so sorry." And without another word, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"Well, she was certainly rather rude," sniffed Mrs Evans. Mrs Pettigrew just shook her head.

"Sibyll Trelawney isn't rude, exactly," she said. "She's a Diviner -- she can see into the future. Except she doesn't tend to be a very good one, or at least I never thought so. Likely she thought she saw something that spooked her off. No matter."

Mrs Pettigrew lead them out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the back alleyway behind the building. "Now, this is the entrance to Diagon Alley. When Lily has her own wand, she'll be able to access it herself."

"We are allowed to go inside, aren't we?" asked Mrs Evans nervously.

"Oh, yes, of course -- only you'll need to be with a wizard or witch who owns a wand," said Mrs Pettigrew cheerily. She reached up with her wand and tapped several of the bricks on the far wall. Mrs Evans let out a muffled gasp as the bricks began to move to form an archway, showing passage into a narrow street packed with people.

Thud.

Turning around, Peter and Mrs Pettigrew saw Mrs Evans collapsed onto a rubbish bin.

"Er, Mum," Peter said, trying to hide his amusement. "I think Mrs Evans has fainted."

"Blast," said Mrs Pettigrew. She knelt next to her neighbour and quickly patted Mrs Evans' cheeks. Mrs Evans began to moan a bit, already waking. "Lily, do you see the tea shop just down the street? Be a dear and hold a table. Peter, will you take Mrs Evans' arm and assist her? Petunia, dear, you will help me clear a path."

The party moved slowly down the alleyway, Mrs Evans choosing to keep her eyes tightly closed and lean on Peter for support. Peter grimaced at the extra weight, and gripped Mrs Evans' arm tightly. He thought it might be too tight when her knuckles went white, but didn't release his grip. Soon enough, the party had reached the tea shop where Lily had found a table by window, peering anxiously out to see her mother.

Mrs Evans was revived by the tea and biscuits, while the children bounced in the seats impatiently. Lily kept sneaking peeks out the window, where she saw children running up and down the street, packages in tow, and parents laughing behind them. So many bright colours of robes, and so much cheerful gaiety! Why did Mummy have to faint when the bricks moved, thought Lily. Silly Mummy.

"Better now?" asked Mrs Pettigrew. "Then let's not waste a moment, there's lots to purchase. Off we trot!"

The group stepped out of the shop and stood in the doorway for a moment. Mrs Pettigrew flung her arms out in ecstasy, knowing she was in her own element.

"Diagon Alley," said Mrs Pettigrew a bit proudly. "You're ready to admire it now!"

Petunia, peeking out from behind her mother, stared as the group began to move through the crowd. The street was filled with witches and wizards of all sizes, short and dumpy to tall and impossibly thin, wearing cloaks of every colour under the rainbow. Most were chatting gaily to each other, using words she'd never heard before ("Quidditch," and "Quaffle"). Others were having arguments about the price of various objects for sale. One girl had just purchased an owl -- the bird flapped its broad wings and Petunia shrunk closer to her mother and to Peter, who held her hand and smiled at her.

"You all right, Pets?" he whispered.

Petunia nodded, even though her stomach felt a bit queasy. So many people, wearing and talking of so many odd things, made her nervous.

"We'll go to Gringotts first thing," Mrs Pettigrew was saying to Mrs Evans. "That's our bank, and we can change your pounds into galleons. I must withdraw some for ourselves, as well. Then we can start off with the shopping."

"It's a lovely building," said Mrs Evans, admiring the white marbled columns. "Much prettier than our bank in Surr--eeeeeeeek!"

A short, rather dumpy thing had opened the door to the bank. It had droopy pointed ears and a long pointy nose, at the end of which rested a pair of spectacles. It wore a set of forest green velvet breeches and a matching coat, and it scowled at Mrs Evans, who stood quaking. Mrs Pettigrew took her arm gently.

"A goblin, perfectly safe unless you want to rob the bank," she said kindly. "Come now, nothing to be afraid of! Thank you," she said to the goblin, who still held the door.

Peter began to follow his mother, but was pulled back by Petunia, who still held onto his hand, and was standing quite still, staring at the goblin with fear in her eyes. "Mum!" called Peter after his mother, "I'm going to stay outside with Pets, please."

Mrs Pettigrew turned. "All right, dear, don't run off then," she warned him, and went inside the building. Lily followed her, staying far away from the goblin. Once inside the building, however, she forgot all about the creature at the door, and simply stared about her.

The domed ceiling above their heads rose high above them, covered in a combination of cobwebs and frescoes. It had little windows ringing the dome that let daylight into the space in narrow beams of light which had lots of dust motes filtering through. The room was lined with tall desks, at which sat more goblins, counting coins and marking in books, paying little attention to the people around them. Lily looked at the floor beneath her feet, and pleased to find the mosaic was patterned with the signs of the Zodiac, and various mythical animals; unicorns, giants, mermaids, and monsters.

"Mrs Pettigrew," whispered Lily as they walked towards the end of the long room, "how are they lighting the room? I don't see lamps anywhere and the windows aren't large enough."

"It's a charm called Lumos spatium," explained Mrs Pettigrew. "It takes what light does exist and expands it to fit the space. That's the basic concept, at least -- I was never very good at the actual concept behind a spell. You'd best ask Mr Pettigrew tonight."

They had arrived at the head goblin's desk now, and Mrs Pettigrew walked right up to him.

"One account from which to withdraw," she said briskly, "And one new account to open."

* * * * *

Peter and Petunia sat on the steps at the base of the building. Peter was busily pointing out the various shops they could see. "That's Florean Fortescue's, the ice cream parlour. He's got the best sundaes anywhere, he enchants them so that the fudge stays hot and the ice cream stays cold and doesn't melt. And that's Eeylops Owl Emporium over there, smells a bit in there if you ask me. And Zonko's joke shop. I'll get mum to let us go there when the shopping's done."

"What's down that way?" asked Petunia, pointing towards the right, an empty bit of street where there were far fewer shoppers.

"Oh! That's Knockturn Alley down there. Mum won't let me go there, says there's a lot of stores that sell 'unsavoury' items. Father's been there, though, he buys Mum's slug repellent there, and he says it isn't half as interesting as I think. I don't know, I think that's just him wanting to keep me out of it."

"It doesn't look very nice," said Petunia, eyeing the dilapidated buildings and the dirty windows.

"No," said Peter, "but it's interesting."

"Well, children," said a voice behind them, and they spun around to see Mrs Pettigrew and Mrs Evans with Lily behind them. "Let's begin!"

Shopping took up most of the rest of the day. They started off at Madame Malkin's for school robes, where most of the staff knew Mrs Pettigrew by name. They made a fuss over Peter, and complemented Mrs Evans on her "lovely daughters," which made her smile for the first time that day. The shop had massive bow windows that let the sunlight into the spacious room. On the floor was a lovely Oriental rug that had dragons, phoenix and unicorns woven into it and the fringe was at least six inches long. Petunia had fun wandering through the different racks of ready-to-wear robes, and fell in love with a lavender-blue one which her mother flatly refused to purchase for her. But the very nice saleslady slipped Petunia a handkerchief of the same fabric with a wink. "It's enchanted," she whispered to the girl, "so that whenever you use it, it comes clean again instantly!"

Next came the stationers, where Lily and Peter purchased their quills, ink and parchment paper. Petunia saw Peter fingering the magical pencils, which left marks that moved after you finished drawing. The clerk had ink stains on his fingers where the quill rested as he wrote the receipt. Mrs Evans tisked to herself, saying under her breath that the man was sloppy. Mrs Pettigrew smiled weakly to the clerk in apology, having known him for years. Lily convinced her mother to purchase a bottle of purple ink with sparkles in it, and whispered to Petunia as they left the shop, "I'll leave that bottle for you to use."

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On the way to Flourish and Blotts, all three children pressed their noses against the window at Magical Menagerie, looking at the cats and toads in their various cages. "Would you like a pet, Lily-bud?" asked Mrs Evans. "You are allowed something, you know."

"I don't know. Are you getting a pet, Peter?" asked Lily.

"No," he said, and looked over at Petunia to whisper, "I have already one!"

Petunia giggled and looked shyly back at him. "Look, Peter, the rats are skipping rope! How clever!"

"Would you like a rat, Petunia?" asked Peter.

"I think those rats are sweet. I wouldn't mind a magical rat, I suppose," said Petunia. Mrs Evans sniffed.

"Dirty, nasty things, magical or not," she said. "I won't have one of those in my house. Lily, what about a cat, or an owl?"

"No," said Lily, "I'd rather not, until I see what everyone else has, I think."

The moment Lily entered Flourish and Blotts, her eyes widened and her mouth opened into an O. "Oh, Peter, look! A Thousand and One Tricks to Improve your Memory. And here's one about talismans and amulets -- and oh, Mummy, can I get this one? Hogwarts, A History! I should read up on my new school, shouldn't I?"

Mrs Evans smiled at her. "Of course, dear, but let's find your regular school books first, shall we? And then you may pick out one or two others to read."

"May I find a book, Mummy?" asked Petunia, eyeing a table filled with divination books.

Mrs Evans was about to answer in the negative when she saw Mrs Pettigrew looking at her oddly. "Er, yes, one book," she amended. Petunia sprinted off to the divination table and began to examine her options. Unfogging the Future; A Beginner's Guide to Tea Leaves; Death Omens.

"Awfully young to be thinking of your mortality, aren't you?" said a voice near Petunia, and she dropped Death Omens back onto the table, looking up. An older man with a very long white beard stood beside her, smiling gently. His blue eyes twinkled through his spectacles, and he wore soft purple robes.

"There was a woman in the Leaky Cauldron," said Petunia to the man. "She reached out to touch me, but she jumped back and ran away. Mrs Pettigrew said she can see into the future, and I thought maybe I could find why she was afraid of me."

"Ah!" said the gentleman. "Was she wearing sparkly purple glasses and pale green robes?" Petunia nodded. "I know that woman, I must have a word with her, if she's frightening young girls like yourself."

"Oh, she didn't frighten me," said Petunia. "Only -- Mummy said I could pick out a book for myself, since Lily is getting so many books for school. And I thought -- "

"To take advantage of the situation?" filled in the gentleman. "Quite a good thought. But perhaps something else. In fact, I have just the thing in mind -- " He pulled out a book from a shelf behind him. "I think you might enjoy this, Miss Evans."

Petunia reached out to take the book. The Complete Angler. Her eyes widened. "Thank you," she said, not certain it was one she would have chosen for herself but unwilling to disappoint the man, who had been very nice to her. "I'll read it on the train home."

The man chuckled. "I rather think you might," he said. "Ah, I think your mother and sister are queuing for the register, you'd better run along and join them."

Petunia nodded, and on a sudden impulse leaned over to kiss the gentleman's cheek. "Thank you," she said quite solemnly, and went to join her mother and sister.

The man watched her go, and slowly a smile spread across his face. He tapped his cheek with a finger, and turned to look at the book on death omens, lying on the floor by his feet. Sybill Trelawney, what did you see in Petunia Evans? he wondered.

"Is that all, ladies?" asked the slightly pimply clerk at the head of the line.

"This too, please," said Petunia, handing him her book. The clerk looked at it curiously.

"This is a Muggle book. We don't have these books here," he said. "Where did you find this?"

"The gentleman over there gave it to me," said Petunia. "By the divination table." She turned to point him out. "Oh -- he's gone."

"What did he look like?" asked the clerk.

"He had on purply robes, and he had glasses and a long white beard," said Petunia.

"If he gave you this book, then it was his to give," shrugged the clerk. "We don't have anyone here who looks like that." He handed the book back to Petunia, who took it in awe.

"You mean, it's really mine?"

"Right," said the clerk. "That'll be four galleons and seven sickles for the lot, please."

Petunia looked at her book, quietly thinking. My book, my very own. I wonder who that man was, and why he gave this to me? I wonder how he knew my name?

* * * * *

The group paused in their shopping at Florian Fortescue's ice cream shop, where Mrs Evans and Mrs Pettigrew sipped tea while the three children shared an enormous Knickerbocker Glory. When the counterman brought their ice creams they all stared in surprise when he spoke to the in an American accent. "Excuse me," said Lily "but are you from America?"

"Oh, no, I worked with them during the war." This didn't make very much sense, and Peter made a face at Petunia, indicating that the man perhaps a bit mad. He wore a striped jacket and bow tie that even to Mrs Evans seemed quite out of place.

They giggled and pretended to throw bits of ice cream at each other, and Peter dropped a cherry on Lily's head, causing Petunia to laugh so hard she knocked the table, spilling Mrs Evan's tea over everything.

"Petunia!" scolded Mrs Evans. "Behave yourself, or you can sit in the Leaky Cauldron until we're done!"

"If you children are very well done with your ice cream," said Mrs Pettigrew a bit sharply, "you can run along to pick up your potions supplies, and we can finish our tea before we go on to find your cauldrons. And we still have to pick up your robes before we leave, and then there's your wands to buy -- "

"Oh, Mum, I don't want to go cauldron shopping," said Peter. "Can't we give it a miss?"

Mrs Pettigrew eyed him. "I don't fancy dragging you in there, on second thought. Very well, stay at the Apothecary's, and we'll come find you before it's time for Ollivanders. And no, you can't skip Ollivanders!"

Peter jumped off his chair and pulled Petunia away from the table. "This way," he said, dragging the girls through the crowds and into a building not far away. "It's the best shop on the block, apart from Gambol and Japes. Lily, you have the list, don't you? I left mine with Mum."

Lily had her list, and the three pushed their way into the crowded shop. It smelled both spicy and cloying at the same time, and was obviously very popular, as it was stuffed with both bottles and jars and bins full of things, as well as customers chatting amongst themselves and consulting shopping lists. The wall behind the counter had little drawers with labels on each: bats wing, unicorn horn, songbird song, eagle talons, wormwood, powdered root of asphodel. While the shop looked well worn it was not messy or dirty. The wooden cabinets were highly polished and the employees knew the merchandise very well. When a customer asked for something the clerks would reach around behind themselves not looking and find the proper ingredient. The clerks all wore over their robe sleeves special tight fitting garters that went to their elbows that protected their robes and arms from potentially dangerous ingredients.

"Er, Peter, what are those all for?" questioned Petunia.

"Potions," said Peter, grabbing a basket and beginning to fill it with supplies. "It's one of the core studies at Hogwarts. Lily and I have to take it all seven years and so will you."

"Do you really think I'll go too?" Petunia asked hopefully.

"Oh, Pets," laughed Lily. "You're certain to get in, if I did!"

"Tell you what, Pets," said Peter. "Mum has to buy me a new wand for school today. If you promise not to tell anyone I'll give you my old one to practice with. That way you'll be ahead of the rest when it's your turn to go to Hogwarts."

Petunia's eyes brightened. "Won't your parents wonder where your old one is?"

"No, I think they have forgotten all about it. I got it when I was two. Here, Lily, I dare you to stick your hand in the barrel of beetle eyes."

Lily shuddered. "No! They're still blinking!"

"I'll do it," said Petunia, feeling bold. She shoved her hand into the barrel, and giggled. The beetle eyes were slippery and smooth, and they vibrated softly and tickled her arm. Lily wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Stop playing around you two," she scolded. "We aren't half done with our list."

Petunia was pulling her arm out of the barrel when something bumped into her, pushing her nearly headfirst into the eyes. She shouted out and nearly knocked the barrel over, and several hundred beetle eyes spilled onto the floor.

"Watch it!" shouted Peter, and turned to the boy who'd bumped into Petunia. He was short and skinny, and had long black greasy hair and a pointed nose. Unlike themselves, he wore a black robe which covered his clothing completely. His dark eyes flashed and he sneered.

"Watch yourself," snapped the boy. "Muggles like yourselves should know to behave where they don't belong."

"We're not Muggles," said Peter, annoyed. "My parents are wizards and she's going to Hogwarts this year." He jerked his head towards Lily.

"How am I to know, you're dressed like Muggles," shrugged the boy. "Besides, Muggles or Mudbloods, what's the difference?"

Peter pulled his arm back to slug the boy, and Lily grabbed it. "Peter, stop it," she hissed. "Don't hit him, he didn't know."

"What, don't even know what a Mudblood is?" laughed the boy. "Ha! You've a lot to learn, don't you?"

"Severus!" called a woman's voice through the crowd. The boy stiffened.

Petunia froze hearing the tone in the woman's voice. It was chilly and sharp, and it clearly make the boy Severus quite nervous. Do I cringe like that when Mummy calls me? wondered Petunia.

"See you on the train then," he said with a smirk. "I'll be sure to have a different compartment." And he disappeared into the crowd.

"What's a Mudblood?" asked Petunia as soon as the boy had gone. She was brushing the beetle eyes out of her hair.

"It's bad," said Peter, still angry. "Well, not bad, exactly, it's just not a nice word to say. It's when a person has mixed blood, wizard and Muggle."

"But I don't have any wizarding blood," said Lily.

Peter shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You're a witch now, and Pets will be too, when she gets her letter." He grinned at Petunia. "You've still got eyes on your jumper, Pets." And together the children finished brushing them off.

They finished shopping for the rest of the potions list without seeing the slimy-haired boy, and met their mothers on the doorstep, carrying their cauldrons and their new school robes.

"Excellent timing," said Mrs Pettigrew. "On to Ollivander's, then -- Violet, I've saved the best for last!"

The group managed to wade their way across the crowded street, and nearly fell into the small shop, which for a change was completely empty. Petunia felt as if she'd walked into a cathedral, it was so still and silent. Even Lily, who had been chatting non-stop since leaving the apothecary, fell quiet, and Mrs Pettigrew nudged them towards the centre of the store. Petunia gripped Peter's hand tighter. The little room was filled with bookshelves that held long, thin boxes, each with a label at the end. It was dusty and dim, and at the center of the room sat a small, high table upon which was an open book and several quills and jars of ink.

"Ah, Peter Pettigrew! You've come for your school wand, then, have you?" said a voice from behind the stacks, and a small white-haired figure appeared. He wore a sort of open cloak, revealing his button-down shirt and sweater beneath; half-spectacles rested on his very pointed nose. Peter gulped, and when Petunia squeezed his hand, he felt a bit of courage return to him.

"Yessir," he said.

"And Beatrice! How lovely to see you," said the man, and bowed low to Mrs Pettigrew, taking her hand. "Birds eye maple, eleven inches, unicorn hair, wasn't it?"

"Indeed," laughed Mrs Pettigrew. "Best for Herbology, and I've been quite grateful for it, let me assure you!"

"And who is this with you?" The man peered down at Lily, and she stood straight up and lifted her chin.

"My name is Lily Evans," she said firmly.

"Miss Evans, a pleasure," said the man, taking her hand and dropping a kiss on it. Lily looked at Peter and smiled, as if to say Well! "I am Mr Ollivander of Ollivander's, makers of fine wands since 382 BC. I trust you are Muggle-born?"

"Yes," said Lily.

"And this is -- " Mr Ollivander paused, looking at Petunia.

"My sister, Petunia," said Lily. "She's too young for Hogwarts now."

"Yes, of course," said Mr Ollivander, eyeing the girl. "If the young Miss Evans could sit over by the window, please, and don't touch anything now, that's very important. Now, Mr Pettigrew, which is your wand arm?"

Mr Ollivander flicked his wand and a measuring tape rose off of the counter and began to measure Peter's outstretched arm. Wrist to elbow. Elbow to finger tip. Finger tip to shoulder. Thumb to little finger. Floor to elbow. It moved with great speed.

Petunia sat down on the bench by the window, next to Mrs Pettigrew, who smiled at her and patted her arm. When Petunia looked back at Lily and Peter, she saw that Mr Ollivander was paying very little attention to the measuring tape, instead fluttering about the store, examining boxes and shoving them back into their places. He continued his running monologue on the subject of wands.

"Mustn't -- disturb the wands, you see, before they have chosen their wizard or witch, very important. It's the wand that does the choosing. Any outside influence upon a wand might disturb its magical quality, possibly harm it in some small, unforeseen way so that it is scarred for the true owner. Now, Mr Pettigrew? Let's see -- 10 inches, dragon heart-string, ash?"

Mr Ollivander handed a wand to Peter. Peter eagerly reached out for the wand and swished it. Boxes flew in every direction, and Lily ducked, covering her head. Petunia giggled, and Peter glared at her.

"No, no, let's see -- ah, here we are, 9 and a quarter inches, phoenix feather, willow!"

The lights flickered, and the draperies on the window flew out, nearly knocking Mrs Pettigrew and Mrs Evans to the floor. Petunia covered her mouth to hide her giggles.

"This is the ticket, I'm certain -- nine and half inches, phoenix feather, cherry."

Peter took the wand in his hand and swished it. Instantly he was surrounded in a swirl of colour, lifting him slightly off the ground. Petunia clapped her hands in surprise, and Lily cheered.

"Oh, Peter, that's marvellous!" she said, grinning.

"That's the ticket, that's the ticket!" said Mr Ollivander, quite pleased. "I knew we'd hit the mark. Now, young lady -- let's see, I always enjoy fitting out a Muggle-born. You start fresh then. You see, every witch or wizard must be a perfect fit for their wand. Your life experiences up to this point have only shaped the kind of wand that will work best for you. This is why there is so much variety within the manufacture of wands. Every wizard is different -- therefore there must be an equal number of different wands to suit. Now, Miss Evans -- I think -- let's try this, shall we? Fourteen inches, a bit long but it's rosewood with a unicorn hair."

Lily took the wand gingerly, suddenly nervous. Everything up to this point had been fairly normal, considering -- purchasing school clothes and books and supplies were certainly things she had done countless times before. But now, it all came down to her and a magical wand, and suddenly Lily felt quite put on the spot. What if she took the wand and nothing happened? She could picture Mr Ollivander's sigh, and the disappointment in Petunia's eyes, and perhaps even Peter's joking laugh as if it had all been a great prank.

"Go on, then, give it a wave," said Mr Ollivander gently, and smiled at her. Lily took a breath and waved the wand.

And was perfectly overjoyed when the windows blew out, causing all of the papers on the desk to fly into the air, in a magical ticker tape parade.

* * * * *

The train ride home was uneventful. Mrs Evans and Mrs Pettigrew chatted about gardening for the entire ride -- "Oh, but your tomatoes are the loveliest in the entire neighbourhood!" "No, my dear, your flowers outshine anything I could do, magically or no." Peter was drawing out a Quidditch field on a piece of paper for Lily, trying to explain how the game was played. "But don't the Bludgers knock people off their brooms?" "Well, yes, that's the point, really."

Petunia paid very little attention to any of it. She sat by the window, her new book in her lap, watching the passing houses and fields, and daydreaming. It had been a marvellous day. She had shared an ice cream with Peter, and gotten a new magical handkerchief, and sparkly purple ink, and Peter had promised to give her his old wand. Then there was the nice older gentleman who had given her the book -- given it to her, a complete present, and just for her!

Lily and Peter began laughing, and Petunia leaned over for a look. The people on the Quidditch field had begun to move around on the paper, knocking each other off their pencil-drawn brooms. "Peter, those were the magic pencils from stationary shop!" said Petunia, horrified. "You didn't nick them, did you?"

"Only one, Pets. Here, draw yourself in, we'll play a game." He handed the pencil to Petunia. "Wait until we get you to Hogwarts, Pets, and then you and Lily and me can really play Quidditch."

"Wow," whispered Petunia, and smiled broadly. "I can hardly wait."