Chapter 150: The Deathly Hallows and Maria ─ 1-1
During the four weeks we spent waiting for the members of the Order of the Phoenix to arrive, Harry packed his belongings as if to erase all traces of himself. Harry didn't say anything to me, so I didn't say anything to him either. While Harry silently reached into his rucksack, I opened the Daily Prophet that I had been hoarding for the past few days.
—The resignation of Professor Charity Burbage. "Resignation" was just a cover; she was likely murdered by Voldemort. Professor Charity Burbage taught Muggle Studies.
If Draco's information from the "Before" was correct, she was made an example of at some manor. The question was which manor it took place at. As expected—
"...Astoria."
Now that Malfoy Manor was unusable, the one who came to mind was her, the woman who stayed by his side as his wife until the very end. Theodore must be there too. He was the information source for Voldemort's camp. Dumbledore trusted Theodore because of my example, and Voldemort trusted me, Maria, because of Theodore...
I turned to the next page of the newspaper. It was a sickening gossip article by Rita Skeeter. Skeeter's wicked ambition to prey on the late Dumbledore danced across the page. Just looking at the letters sent a rush of anger through me. Reading any more would only be exhausting. When I tossed the newspaper aside and sat on the bed, Harry had stopped what he was doing and was staring at a blanket.
"Harry."
The carefully folded blanket was pushed deep into the rucksack. —It was our mother's only memento, given to us yesterday by Aunt Petunia. It was the tiny blanket that had swaddled us as babies, and the one that would someday be passed down to Albus.
Aunt Petunia visited our room carrying the blankets, wearing the expression of a criminal standing at the gallows for an unreasonable crime. Then, she groaned.
"If we leave this house—there will absolutely be no harm to us, right?"
Harry snorted, looking utterly fed up.
"How many times do I have to explain it? Officials from the Ministry of Magic went out of their way to come here and tell you extremely politely."
Normally, when Harry and I were this cheeky, Aunt Petunia's hysterical shrieks would have been piercing the room by now. —But today was different.
"—When I took you in as babies and saw the letter from Dumbledore, I despaired."
Both Harry and I fell silent.
"You, who brought something as ridiculous as 'magic' into my family, were undoubtedly demons. I thought the 'magic' that had stolen my sister had returned—this time to steal my own family. I thought you came to ruin the happiness I had finally grasped. You were—terror itself to me."
Suddenly, I thought: Aunt Petunia's Boggart surely takes our form.
"It must have been a salvation for you. Yes, yes, being surrounded by magic and developing your talents rather than being oppressed by a mean aunt and uncle. You act like you deserve to be happy—looking down on us who don't have magic. I know it—Lily had that exact same look."
"That's not—"
"You laughed. When that giant man grew a pig's tail on my Dudders, you laughed, didn't you? You were just like Lily, who would bring home bizarre creatures and laugh, calling me dramatic when I screamed that I didn't want to see them. You were just like James Potter, who pulled ridiculous pranks at the wedding and ruined the ceremony. Do you understand? Do you know how terrified I was of you then? How much I hated you? It might be a game to you, but—'magic' has always threatened me!"
"..."
"You can afford to laugh, can't you? You wizards don't know the fear of those who don't have it. Because of the 'magic' you laughed at—the 'magic' you can conjure with a single flick of your wand—we always had to live in fear."
Petunia slammed down the terror she had harbored since childhood, staring directly into James's eyes and Lily's eyes.
"I—always prepared myself for death whenever I stood before you."
More than "normal" Vernon, who had never encountered magic, and more than Dudley, who had been carefully shielded and kept in the dark, it was Petunia—who knew 'magic'—who feared us the most.
As we stood there unable to even utter a word in response, Petunia took a deep breath and continued.
"Even so, the reason I couldn't abandon you wasn't because I grew attached to you. It was because what my foolish sister left behind—was only this, and you two."
Two dusty blankets, showing creases from being folded, were held up.
"Your eyes, your face—and these blankets were all that sister of mine left behind."
Everyone's voices disappeared. Aunt Petunia's tense revelation—she who had only ever been an image of ear-piercing shrieks—lingered in our ears more than any insult ever had.
The blankets were dropped to the floor as if they had lost all their strength. The meticulous squares, which represented my aunt's personality, softly lost their shape.
"—But I don't need them anymore. I don't want these things. I don't want you, either. Just go. Go back to your magic. You can just go to the place that stole my sister from me. Live there, and never come back."
"..."
I picked up the blankets in place of Harry, who was unable to move as he stared up at Aunt Petunia.
"Aunt Petunia."
"...What is it?"
"Do you remember? —You do, don't you? The day you left a burn on my stomach."
"..."
I didn't feel an ounce of shame. When I rolled up my hem, the taut skin painted a colorful pattern. Maria's skin was covered in countless scars. The freshest one was given by Harry.
There were two sharp gasps of breath. Compared to the numerous injuries I had borne in the wizarding world, the burn Aunt Petunia gave me was completely trivial—and moreover.
"Five years ago, I fought a snake monster. A massive snake, with fangs about this big. It was highly venomous—well, I ended up surviving like this, but I truly almost died. —Its fang sank in right here."
Just slightly below my navel—I traced the scar that was discolored and spreading purplish.
"The keloid you gave me was killed by the Basilisk."
I found myself smiling. The blankets, the keloid—we had let go of each other's scars.
"...I don't remember. Anything like that."
Aunt Petunia spat out those words in a fading voice and left the room. Harry and I looked at each other, each holding a different colored blanket.
"...Hehe."
"Yeah... haha."
Without any clear words, we leaned against each other and laughed as if letting it all out. —Ah, that's right. That's how it was. I grabbed my red hair, which reached my shoulders.
"Come to think of it, Aunt Petunia has cut your hair, Harry, but she never cut mine short. I'd forgotten, since she didn't say anything when I came back from Hogwarts with it cut."
She is by no means a good person. The violence she and this house have inflicted upon us must never be accepted, no matter the reason. Not as self-defense—but because 'I', in my own way, was a parent too, I will never forgive that alone.
So, let's sever it here. —Because the bonds of scars that tied us together have now left our hands.
"Harry, keep mine for me too."
I pressed the different colored blanket into the rucksack Harry was packing. Harry looked puzzled but accepted it.
"They should be here soon."
I looked up at the clock. It was less than an hour until the promised time. Suddenly, there was a noise beyond the door.
"What's this?"
Harry looked creeped out at what was placed in the hallway. —They were teacups filled with tea. Two of them, lined up side by side.
"Is this Dudley's prank? At a time like this, that guy— Ah, Maria!"
I slipped past Harry and picked up a teacup. It was still warm. ...Yeah, it's quite bitter.
"You can't be that careless. Who knows what's in it?"
"There's nothing in it. It's just terribly made and tastes awful."
"Eugh..."
Pinching the handle of the teacup as if he were holding a Dungbomb, Harry grimaced and looked at the surface of the liquid. Prompted by my gaze, he timidly took a sip.
"...Awful."
"Right?"
I placed the two drained teacups back in the hallway and laughed, clutching my stomach.
It was time. We greeted Dedalus and Hestia, who had come to protect the Dursley family, and practically kicked Uncle Vernon out to the front door when he started throwing a tantrum at the last minute.
"Why aren't they coming with us?"
Dudley had also stopped in his tracks. He pointed a pudgy finger at us, as we refused to go any further than the entrance, and fell silent. He looked up at his bewildered parents.
"That's— well, because it's not necessary. Eh? Isn't that right?"
"Yeah. Not at all."
"Not one bit."
At our unison, Uncle Vernon's face went through a rapid series of expressions, busy shifting somewhere between satisfied and spiteful. Even so, Dudley didn't move.
"Just leave them be!"
"That's right, Dudders. Our safety is what's important."
"Isn't that a bit too cold? Your nephew is Harry Potter!"
Hestia stared at the aunt and uncle with her eyes peeled wide in disbelief.
"It's fine. These people think of me as nothing but a waste of space anyway."
"I don't think you're a waste of space."
Following Hestia, it was Harry's turn to stare in wide-eyed shock. His green eyes were fixed on Dudley.
"When I was— attacked by those weird—"
"Dementors?"
"...When I was attacked by them, the man who saved me said something. He said Maria sent him here. And that Harry did the same. ...I don't think you guys are a waste of space."
A tickling silence fell between the two boys. Harry glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. I smiled at him.
""Thank you, Dudley.""
It was an awkward handshake. The fist that had shown us so much violence gripped my hand as if touching something fragile.
"...See you. Harry, Maria."
""Take care, Big D.""
Uncle Vernon and Dudley's backs were swallowed up into the car. Dedalus slid in next to Dudley, and Hestia sat in the passenger seat. Aunt Petunia, who had been standing there dumbfounded, finally picked up her bag.
"Well—goodbye."
I raised my voice as loud as I could toward the revving car engine.
"Dudley! The tea was delicious!"
...What a total lie. Alongside Harry, who was smiling mischievously, I kept waving at the car until it vanished with a crack of Disapparation.
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