July 8, 1996
After her trip to Milliways, it had taken Petunia a few days to fully snap back to her old routine, but she had managed it well.
The first day had been lovely -- dinner had been over, but she surprised everyone by preparing a small pudding as a late snack. Nothing fancy, she hadn't had time to shop for ingredients beforehand, but she just had to do something after missing them so. All of them -- she had even snuck a small dish of it for Harry, who had been surprised but hadn't questioned it.
The next day, she celebrated properly by cleaning the house. Every carpet vacuumed, every piece of furniture polished, every window washed, and even the fridge had been cleaned out.
The third day, she weeded the garden and - politely - had Harry mow the lawn. Dudley could have used the exercise, but she didn't entirely trust him to do it properly. Her nephew hadn't noticed anything amiss, and if either Vernon or Dudley had seen a change nothing had been said.
The fourth day, she looked around and realized that the house was still immaculate, the lawn and garden flourished enough to remind her why it had been so easy to fall for the bogus award announcement the prior year, and without help moving the ladder she couldn't start on the gutters or attic or any of the other hard-to-reach areas. Vernon was at work, Dudley had gone off with his friends, and Harry had headed out for a walk some time earlier. Vernon had told her that morning that he'd be bringing home a pizza as a show of appreciation for the extra effort she'd shown, so she couldn't even get a head start on dinner. A double shame, as even with his progress the snack would hardly help Dudley with his diet.
She had nothing to do but think.
Milliways. They told her when she arrived that she was supposed to learn a lesson or change or some such nonsense as that. But what did she learn? She'd made a few casual friends, though none were really much closer than Mrs. Next Door or Mrs. Number Seven. It sank in that she didn't really have any close friends, even at home. Yvonne had been a dear friend, but they hadn't had a chance to get together and chat in years. Christmas Card friends, that was all she really had -- you'll send out a nice note with the annual card, offer a kind word if you encounter them on the street or in a store, but that was it.
Perhaps something to do with magic? It played pranks on her, she knew that. And those who had it had no qualms about making her look the fool. But it could also have decent forms, helpful forms. Preparing and serving food, cleaning, offering aid to those who needed it. Not that she'd seen anything of that sort outside of the bar. Giving her son a pig's tail when the boy hadn't done a thing? Tearing out the window from Harry's room and not doing a thing to fix it? Blasting dust and bits of plaster all over the living room? Causing Dudley's tongue to swell up so horribly he nearly choked to death? A Dementor attack on Dudley, on their own street? Inflating Vernon's sister and causing her to float away?
Well. Petunia wasn't entirely upset about the last one, and had laughed about it afterward when she was alone in the house. But considering the rest, on top of the events that brought Harry to stay in the beginning . . . she could hardly be blamed for acting as she did.
Working in the kitchens with Gil was nice. The waitrats had been quite friendly and helpful, once she got past the fact that they were, well, rats. She felt quite proud about some of the lovely pieces she had knit. And she could never say a word against Bar.
Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, she thought, if the door were to open back for her, from time to time.
The first day had been lovely -- dinner had been over, but she surprised everyone by preparing a small pudding as a late snack. Nothing fancy, she hadn't had time to shop for ingredients beforehand, but she just had to do something after missing them so. All of them -- she had even snuck a small dish of it for Harry, who had been surprised but hadn't questioned it.
The next day, she celebrated properly by cleaning the house. Every carpet vacuumed, every piece of furniture polished, every window washed, and even the fridge had been cleaned out.
The third day, she weeded the garden and - politely - had Harry mow the lawn. Dudley could have used the exercise, but she didn't entirely trust him to do it properly. Her nephew hadn't noticed anything amiss, and if either Vernon or Dudley had seen a change nothing had been said.
The fourth day, she looked around and realized that the house was still immaculate, the lawn and garden flourished enough to remind her why it had been so easy to fall for the bogus award announcement the prior year, and without help moving the ladder she couldn't start on the gutters or attic or any of the other hard-to-reach areas. Vernon was at work, Dudley had gone off with his friends, and Harry had headed out for a walk some time earlier. Vernon had told her that morning that he'd be bringing home a pizza as a show of appreciation for the extra effort she'd shown, so she couldn't even get a head start on dinner. A double shame, as even with his progress the snack would hardly help Dudley with his diet.
She had nothing to do but think.
Milliways. They told her when she arrived that she was supposed to learn a lesson or change or some such nonsense as that. But what did she learn? She'd made a few casual friends, though none were really much closer than Mrs. Next Door or Mrs. Number Seven. It sank in that she didn't really have any close friends, even at home. Yvonne had been a dear friend, but they hadn't had a chance to get together and chat in years. Christmas Card friends, that was all she really had -- you'll send out a nice note with the annual card, offer a kind word if you encounter them on the street or in a store, but that was it.
Perhaps something to do with magic? It played pranks on her, she knew that. And those who had it had no qualms about making her look the fool. But it could also have decent forms, helpful forms. Preparing and serving food, cleaning, offering aid to those who needed it. Not that she'd seen anything of that sort outside of the bar. Giving her son a pig's tail when the boy hadn't done a thing? Tearing out the window from Harry's room and not doing a thing to fix it? Blasting dust and bits of plaster all over the living room? Causing Dudley's tongue to swell up so horribly he nearly choked to death? A Dementor attack on Dudley, on their own street? Inflating Vernon's sister and causing her to float away?
Well. Petunia wasn't entirely upset about the last one, and had laughed about it afterward when she was alone in the house. But considering the rest, on top of the events that brought Harry to stay in the beginning . . . she could hardly be blamed for acting as she did.
Working in the kitchens with Gil was nice. The waitrats had been quite friendly and helpful, once she got past the fact that they were, well, rats. She felt quite proud about some of the lovely pieces she had knit. And she could never say a word against Bar.
Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, she thought, if the door were to open back for her, from time to time.