Hestia looked up from the muggle paper she was reading to Petunia Dursley, who was frowning most unsurprisingly.
"Not until the war is over," Hestia told her for the umpteenth time.
"Well, I don't want the people who killed my sister in my house!"
Hestia sighed, put the paper down flat, and pulled out a chair, motioning for Petunia to sit in it. The woman did not move, instead looking at the floor.
"First of all," Hestia began, "this is not your house. It is not my house. It is the home we have to share for now, because none of us are safe anywhere else. I told you what happened to your old home."
"The fire department said it was a gas explo-"
"The fire department has its connections."
Petunia started to leave.
"Petunia."
Petunia turned, looking annoyed.
"It was not the fault of the people who loved her, and believe me when I say this - she was loved."
"You knew her, then," Petunia said, her voice very flat as though to iron out any signs of emotion.
Hestia shook her head. "No, I was a few years younger than Dudley when James and Lily Potter were murdered. But I have since met people who knew her, and believe me, they still feel the loss all these years later."
"I see."
"What those wizards did to her, what they did to your home, what they are willing to do to muggles like you for no reason - they are horrific, worthless excuses for the human race. But Lily's death was not celebrated - it was lamented."
"I don't have time for this nonsense-"
"If nothing else, then," Hestia interrupted, "remember this: in the end, we're all just bumbling apes using a lot of big words and fancy tools to get by. Not one amongst us is superior or inferior."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that hate doesn't do any good," Hestia said softly. "Ever. It won't bring Lily back - and you do miss her, stop denying it, she was your flesh and blood - and continuing the trend will only mean she has died in vain."
Hestia left Petunia to ponder in the kitchen, hoping it would do some good. There wasn't much left to say anymore.
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timeasmymeasure
Vain
Date: 2010-11-16 11:37 pm (UTC)Hestia looked up from the muggle paper she was reading to Petunia Dursley, who was frowning most unsurprisingly.
"Not until the war is over," Hestia told her for the umpteenth time.
"Well, I don't want the people who killed my sister in my house!"
Hestia sighed, put the paper down flat, and pulled out a chair, motioning for Petunia to sit in it. The woman did not move, instead looking at the floor.
"First of all," Hestia began, "this is not your house. It is not my house. It is the home we have to share for now, because none of us are safe anywhere else. I told you what happened to your old home."
"The fire department said it was a gas explo-"
"The fire department has its connections."
Petunia started to leave.
"Petunia."
Petunia turned, looking annoyed.
"It was not the fault of the people who loved her, and believe me when I say this - she was loved."
"You knew her, then," Petunia said, her voice very flat as though to iron out any signs of emotion.
Hestia shook her head. "No, I was a few years younger than Dudley when James and Lily Potter were murdered. But I have since met people who knew her, and believe me, they still feel the loss all these years later."
"I see."
"What those wizards did to her, what they did to your home, what they are willing to do to muggles like you for no reason - they are horrific, worthless excuses for the human race. But Lily's death was not celebrated - it was lamented."
"I don't have time for this nonsense-"
"If nothing else, then," Hestia interrupted, "remember this: in the end, we're all just bumbling apes using a lot of big words and fancy tools to get by. Not one amongst us is superior or inferior."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that hate doesn't do any good," Hestia said softly. "Ever. It won't bring Lily back - and you do miss her, stop denying it, she was your flesh and blood - and continuing the trend will only mean she has died in vain."
Hestia left Petunia to ponder in the kitchen, hoping it would do some good. There wasn't much left to say anymore.