When Dreams Are Lost

When Dreams Are Lost

Even today I can still remember with amazing crystal clarity the day that the letter came. Brought to our open kitchen window by a tawny owl with huge eyes of beautiful amber gold, the missive was enclosed in an envelope of of old- fashioned parchment paper and sealed with a blob of red wax. I was the only one home that time of day, so I accepted the letter, my eyes surely wide with wonder. I was young enough to accept such an out of the ordinary occurance with only a small pinch to the sensitive skin on my inner arm to make sure I wasn't dreaming. As I took the letter from the owl's beak, it gave me a little nip on the finger. Unsure how one treated messenger owls, I thought perhaps he was hungry and got a saucer out of the cupboard and covered it with bits of cold bacon left over from breakfast. After the strange bird had eaten, it soared off, regally spreading its wings as it ascended into the cerulean sky.

Finally I turned the letter over to see who it was addressed to. In flowing green script, the slightly ornate handwriting revealed the addressee: Miss Lily Evans. Not for me then, but for my younger sister. I heaved a huge sigh, for I deperately wanted to know what secrets were enclosed in the sealed envelope the magical-seeming owl had delivered into my hands. I felt a tinge of jealousy just then- why didn't beautiful and mysterious birds bring me letters? It was something out of the fairytales and fantasy novels I so adored, and I had always longed for some magical happenstance to whisk me away from my normal, boring existence. I wished that for once something was happening to me instead of my little sister, to whom everything seemed to come so easily.

I firmly set aside that ungracious feeling. It wasn't Lily's fault that she was the sort of girl people seemed to gravitate towards, while I had a tendency to fade into the background. A smile always stretched her pretty face, laughter bubbling out of her mouth easily, a look of impish delight in her sparkling emerald eyes. It also wasn't Lily's fault that I was gawky where she was graceful, stuttering where she was eloquent, shy where she was vivacious, and plain where she was dazzling. She had always been the sweetest sister anyone could hope for, and I loved her fiercely. She always tried to make me feel more comfortable and welcome amongst any group, even though she was younger than me by 13 months,and no matter what, Lily was my best friend. Besides, as soon as Lily returned with our mum from her ballet lesson, I knew she would let me read that special letter right along with her, for she never wanted me to feel left out. Resolutely, I placed the letter in the center of the table and turned back to the schoolwork I had been doing before the owl's interruption.

Not too much later, I heard the turning of the key in the front door, followed by the tell-tale thud of Lily's dance bag hitting the floor in the hall, and Lily's tinkling laughter and my mum's low tones making their way to the kitchen. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding in my eagerness to give Lily the letter and tell her about the unusual way it had been delivered.

My sister burst into the kitchen and swooped down on me in an enveloping hug. Her green eyes danced as she cried, "Petunia! How are you, dahling?"

I giggled and responded, "Lily! So smashing to see you, dear!"

My mother rolled her eyes indulgently at the silly game my sister and I liked to play, pretending it had been ages since we had seen eachother instead of mere hours. She dropped an absent kiss on my cheek, asking how school had gone. I brushed off this unimportant question, instead indicating Lily's letter in the center of the table. "Lily, this came for you today!"

Lily set down the milk and biscuits she had put together for us as she joined me at the table. Nibbling delicately at an oatmeal and chocolate chip biscuit, Lily inspected the outside of the envelope. "I don't recognize the handwriting," she said thoughtfully, tucking an errant strand of her flame colored hair behind her ear.

"Is there a return address?" Mum queried over her shoulder as she brought out the ingredients for that night's dinner.

Lily shook her head. "No. There's not even any postage." She turned it over, examining the seal.

"It didn't come in the post," I put in quickly. "An owl delivered it."

Lily giggled.

"Really, Petunia!" my mother said sharply, throwing me a quelling glance.

"Well, it did," I said quietly. "Anyway, just open it, Lil."

My mum had only started on her favorite lecture, however. "Honestly, you have your head in the clouds, girl! Your nose is always in some fantasy book, and now you're making up outlandish stories. I wonder if you even know what's real anymore! No more nonsense." She pursed her lips, and I could tell she was irritated with my apparent flight of fancy.

"An owl *did* deliver that letter! I even fed him- see the bits of bacon on the windowsill?" I pointed to the near empty saucer.

My mother looked like she might continue her tirade, but Lily, always the peacemaker and my defender, interrupted softly, saying, "Let's just read the letter, shall we?"

"Read it out loud," I urged, ignoring my mum's scrutinizing look.

Lily broke the seal on the envelope and carfully withdrew three pieces of paper as old-fashioned as the envelope that had contained them. I leaned towards her in anticipation as she began reading in her soft, lilting voice:

"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 on September 1. We await your reply, by owl post, please, no later than July 31.

"Yours sincerely,

"Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

"PS- Also enclosed is a letter for your parents to explain things more fully. Upon your positive reply, more comprehensive literature regarding the school will be owled to you."

Lily looked up from the letter, her rosebud lips forming a soft O of wonder.

"Petunia, is this your idea of a joke?" my mother snapped, but as I shook my head no, she reached for the sheet of paper Lily held out to her.

As my mother scanned her own letter, Lily's eyes met mine. Excitement played all over her face. I smiled back at her and whispered my congratulations to her, for I believed completely in the letter. I felt a small thrill in my heart, for what I had always wished was true: magic was real. Then that thrill was replaced by a cold, leaden lump. Magic was real all right, but it wasn't for me. I had never had an owl deliver a letter inviting me to attend a prestigious magical school for witches and wizards. They did not want me. Again the clawed hand of jealousy crept over me. Once more, all the gifts the world had to offer were bestowed upon Lily, with nothing left over for plain, awkward Petunia. But, why? I wanted to scream. Why not me, too? We had the same parents, the same upbringing. Why was Lily special? I wanted it more, needed it more! I had lain awake at night, praying to whatever gods would listen to please, just once, let something magical sweep me away! In the face of such momentous disappointment, something within me hardened. I felt shards of ice filling my veins. I felt an emotion I had never felt towards Lily before- resentment. She must have noticed some change on my face, for she looked at me quizzically, but I fixed my gaze on the plate of biscuits, refusing to meet her eyes. Finally, she gave up.

"Well, Mum?" she asked.

"It will have to wait until your father gets home, dear. Why don't you girls go busy yourselves upstairs while I think about this."

I wondered what was in that letter to sway my practical and logical mother. I thought uncharitably that if it had been my letter, she would have dismissed it as more nonsense. For Lily, she would think about it. For Lily, she would even drag in our oh-so-busy father. My resentment swelled as I pounded up the stairs and into my room. I shut the door firmly behind, flopping onto the bed with my copy of "The Once and Future King." I heard Lily's tentative knock on the door, but I ignored it.

"Toony?" she called softly. Her use of her pet name for me pushed me over the edge.

"Go away, Lil," I said harshly, mockingly. "I'm busy." I held my breath until I heard her pad away. Then I unleashed the torrent of tears that had been building.

At supper that night, while the family forked down meatloaf, my mother handed my father Lily's letters. He read them once, then twice. After the third time, he looked up, beaming. "Looks like we have a witch in the family!"

I nearly choked. Were my parents for real? Magic doesn't exist, they always told me. Educate yourself in science, mathematics. These are the important things. Looking at their happy faces, I concluded that they were sincere. I smiled and applauded Lily with my parents, but I'm sure that grin did not reach my eyes.

The day that letter came was the day that I gave up on magic. Oh, Lily went to Hogwarts all right, and came home each term with new spells and strange toys, but for me, magic became a dream that I had once had but dreamed no longer. Magic was, in the bluntest way possible, not meant for the likes of me. As magic became more and more of Lily's life, it receded from mine. It became even more untouchable for all that it was real. I put away my fantasy books and learned to cook. I stopped believing in fairytales and set my sights on becoming a good wife, someday. I lost my best friend but was courted by Vernon Dursley, a prominent businessman in our area. A fair trade, I guess you might say. After all, it may have been a boring life, but I was allowed to live it. Not fair Lily, however.

We lost touch. Each year she went to that school, we grew further apart, had less in common. And... there was always that consuming jealously and resentment, which ripened into bitterness, and finally bloomed into hatred. Oh, I was so hateful, said horrible things to her, about her. Lily was a freak, she was so abnormal, I would say. Her friends, her husband were no better. A community of wierdos, Vernon and I pronounced them. My heart became as a cold pit inside my chest, unfeeling, unmoveable. I thought that maybe when my belief in magic died, my abilty to love had, too.

I know now that's not true, but it's too late. I look down at that small baby in the basket, my son Dudley cradled against my chest, and I know what his arrival signifies. My sister would never abandon her child; she didn't have it in her to be cruel or callous. Those were my specialties. Grief threatens to overwhelm me as I look at my sister's son, whose arrival means her certain death. A tear slips down my face before Vernon comes, clapping his beefy hand down on my shoulder, asking what had my creepy sister gone and done now? Oh, Lily, I want to cry, but I push it down deep inside of me.

It all started with that letter. As I hand Dudley to Vernon to scoop small Harry out of his basket, I swear, looking into those striking green eyes so like my sister's, that there would be no more letters delivered by owl into my house. No more grief caused by magic. I will never let magic steal someone away from me again. Harry smiles a baby smile, and I feel a chill of forboding. Never, I think fiercely, I'll make sure, any way I can!

It all started with that letter.