Lily’s eyes stung as she read the headline of the article. Her heart ached for the family. Yet, it slowly sank as she realized that they hadn’t lived that far away. Just on the other side of London, in fact.
She heard footsteps and immediately folded the paper, obscuring the article.
Petunia entered the kitchen and frowned.
She grabbed the pitcher of orange juice and coldly asked, “What’s that freaky paper of yours have to say today?”
She took Lily’s silence as an adequate reply. Normally, Lily would have had a relatively witty comeback. Yet at the moment, Lily couldn’t say anything. She was battling the lump that had formed her throat.
Petunia’s eyebrows arched and she asked, “What’s wrong?”
She asked more out of curiosity than concern.
Lily opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t tell Petunia that the number of casualties had tripled in the past year. She couldn’t tell Petunia that Muggleborns were dropping out of Hogwarts to spend time with their families - their remaining time. She couldn’t tell Petunia that the Ministry was remaining eerily quiet about the deaths; about the war entirely. She couldn’t tell Petunia that there was a war. She couldn’t tell Petunia that the war could very well affect them. She couldn’t tell Petunia how scared she was.
But mostly, she couldn’t tell Petunia that the magical world that she had been so excited to see was falling apart. She couldn’t tell Petunia that there was some magic that was dark, so dark that it was illegal. She couldn’t tell Petunia that the students of Hogwarts were rapidly becoming soldiers. She couldn’t tell Petunia that the thought of magic was no longer whimsical and exciting. She couldn’t tell Petunia that her dream had turned into a nightmare.
And so Lily swallowed and murmured, “Nothing.”
And she poured herself a cup of orange juice.