Chapter Text
Petunia Marie Evans was born a normal girl to normal parents.
This is, obviously, completely par for the course when one is a non-magical individual who, in fact, had no idea that magic was a real thing.
Jeffery and Delilah Evans were perfectly content with their first daughter.
She was proper and polite – cried only when injured and even then not too much. They’d heard horror stories from other new parents of sleepless nights but were delighted to find that Petunia didn’t have much trouble at all with sleeping through the night.
She was an easy child – most called the Evans lucky, blessed even.
Five years later they decided to try for another child. A boy, they hoped, to be named Jeff after his father.
Alas, it was not to be.
Delilah’s second pregnancy was a tad bit more difficult. Whereas Petunia followed the timeline exactly – a stickler for the rules even in the womb – this child seemed to care little for what was expected. The baby was kicking at four months, morning sickness lasted well into the third trimester, and Delilah was forced into labour about a month early.
Despite this, Delilah gave birth to a healthy baby girl with tufts of flaming red hair and chubby cheeks. The doctors were absolutely baffled at this and insisted both of them stay a few days for observation. It soon became clear that, though Lily Evans had thrived despite her shortened stay in the womb, Delilah Evans would never bare a child again.
Though disappointed, their plan had been to have at least three children, Jeffery and Delilah again found themselves content with their two normal, healthy daughters.
Another three years passed before anything really started to change in the Evans household.
There had been signs, earlier on, but Petunia had been little more than five, you can forgive her for missing them so completely. Delilah and Jeffery doted on Lily, far more than they ever did Petunia. She assumed it was because Lily was a fussy baby – always crying and demanding attention at all hours of the day.
But, a couple of weeks after Lily’s third birthday, Petunia and her parents watched the toddler bring a dying flower – ironically, it was a petunia – back to life in her palms.
It was like a switch had been flipped.
Suddenly the Evans started acting like Petunia didn’t even exist. Oh, they provided for her alright. She was dressed and fed, sent to a good school with a nice sum for lunch money. But apart from that it was as if she were a ghost in her own home. Continuously and without doubt she was pushed aside for her sister, any semblance of a conversation was dropped the second Lily started babbling.
Petunia couldn’t understand it.
She was the perfect daughter; smart and polite and Ms Bluebell said her drawing was really good in art class and – well, she was also eight, her understanding of what made a good child only went about that far.
What she didn’t understand was that, with Lily, the Evans were more than content. Even before her powers came in there was always something unique about her, be it her red hair, bright and vibrant in a sea of brown and blonde, or her mischievous spirt.
Now, though? Any old child can be polite, but how many parents can say their child taught herself to float?
They saw it as their duty to foster this seed in Lily, she was special, after all, and special children need more attention to grow. So maybe it meant giving less attention to their other daughter – but she didn’t need it as much, anyway.
This, of course, is a terrible way to go about parenting. Most rational people can see that it’ll probably lead to both children having issues down the line.
But no one ever said the Evans were rational.
Petunia’s first reaction was to try and earn her parents love. If she could just show them that she was special too… maybe then they’d give her the time of day. Naturally, unless Petunia could somehow figure out how to levitate objects, nothing was going to be good enough in her parents eyes.
She still tried, though, with all the determination of an eight year old girl scout. She cooked and cleaned up after everyone in the house, studied as hard as she could, her clothes were always immaculate – she even taught herself to walk on those tall high heels that were getting popular.
By the time she turned eleven she was a popular, straight A student with a bright future whose parents hadn’t spoken to her in six months. Lily, meanwhile, was six with the reading comprehension of a four year old and the Evans couldn’t seem to stop gushing about her abstract finger painting skills.
That was around the time Petunia officially gave up. She stopped cooking and cleaning for them, it was obviously pointless, but kept up everything else – at eleven years old Petunia was well aware that she’d probably have to get herself through university, she doubted her parents had saved anything for her – or, if they had, that they wouldn’t blow it all on Lily by the time she needed it.
It’s a sad thing to see: total and utter defeat in the eyes of a girl so young.
This was also around the time a new family moved to Surry. The Williamsons were the kind of people Petunia had been trying to emulate since she was six. Classy but gracious, proper but kind. Pressed shirts and pearl necklaces and – God.
Petunia didn’t know if she wanted to be them or if she wanted to hit them with a stick.
Their daughter, Genevieve, was to be in Petunias year group.
She’d walked in, perfectly curled hair and a dainty sweater, took one look around the room and marched straight over to where Petunia and her friends were sitting.
“Hi.” She’d smiled, offering her hand, “I’m Genevieve.”
“Petunia.”
And that was that.
Petunia, the unofficial official leader of the group, invited the new girl to sit with them and it quickly became apparent that the two were almost identical, personality wise.
Now, in situations such as this, they have a tendency to swing one of two ways. Option one: they absolutely hate each other – can’t even be in the same room without starting a verbal and/or physical throwdown. Or, option two: they become inseparable.
Luckily for everyone involved, it seemed the two girls had gone for the latter.
While Petunia had always had friends, she’d never had a best friend. Genevieve and her spent hours together – going to the movies, talking on the phone, hell, they even went jogging together. In the span of a year they went from Petunia and Genevieve to PetuniaandGenevieve. Never one without the other – a package deal.
Petunia became a regular at the Williamsons, often spending more time there than at her own house. The Evans hadn’t noticed this development quite yet; they were too caught up with Lily’s miraculous discovery of some latent ballet talent.
David and Lorretta Williamson, for their part, absolutely adored their daughters new best friend.
It was easy to pick up on the fact that Petunia was more than used to neglect from adults, evidenced in the way she startled the first time they’d asked her about her day or her opinion on the news – or anytime they acknowledged her at all, really.
Lorretta was furious when she realised, she’d had to be held back by her husband from marching right on over to the Evans and asking what the hell was wrong with them. She’d eventually settled for making sure Petunia knew that she was always welcome and that her opinion was valued in their home.
The years dragged on.
The Evans grew more and more distant from their eldest daughter. Lily and Petunia could hardly stand to be in the same room without inciting a screaming match. Delilah and Jeffery, of course, always took Lily’s side, pushing Petunia even further away.
Meanwhile, Petunia was practically adopted into the Williamson family.
Genevieve was more her sister than Lily ever was. Lorretta loved cooking with her as Genevieve had a tendency to burn anything she touched. As they were a family of intellectuals – yes, David used that word completely unironically – Lewis, Gen’s older brother, and his father enjoyed sharing in depth literary analysis with Petunia over the dinner table.
On her fourteenth birthday the Williamsons surprised Petunia with a room in their house and an open invitation to stay as long as she’d like.
“Oh my.” Petunia gasped, Looking around in awe at the baby blue walls of her new room. “I can’t believe it.”
Loretta laughed from beside her husband, “Oh honey, we’ve been thinking of doing this for years. you’re family.”
“You guys…” And then she’d rushed forward and engulfed the entire family in a group hug which they happily returned.
Petunia had basically moved in after that, popping over to the Evans maybe once or twice a month to check if they’d realised she was gone.
It was always the same. She’d walk in, her parents would vaguely acknowledge her presence – if she was lucky – then Lily would wander in and be as aggravating as possible. Then Petunia would either stay the night or leave, depending on how much Lily pissed her off.
It was during one of those nights she’d slept over that they got the news.
Petunia was sixteen, Lily was eleven. It was a bright, sunny morning and for the first time in roughly a year all the Evans we’re having breakfast together. Petunia was only still around because Lewis was running late to pick her up – she was seriously considering walking back to the Williamsons at this point.
They were all eating breakfast, the silence only interrupted by the occasional question sent Lily’s way. Petunia felt like an intruder.
Then there was a knock at the door.
Petunia blew out a breath of relief – Lewis was here and she could finally leave, back to her real home.
Only it wasn’t Lewis when she opened the door. A tall, intimidating lady dressed in – were those robes? – and an honest to God pointy witch hat towered over Petunia.
“Hello,” The woman said in a clear Scottish accent, “Is this the Evans household?”
“Yes, nice to meet you ma’am. I’m Petunia Evans, would you like to speak to my parents?” In the face of confusion Petunia automatically fell back on her manners.
“I would, thank you. What good manners you have, Miss Evans.”
Petunia held back a wince at her last name.
“Of course, hold on a moment.” She walked back to the kitchen, “There’s someone at the door for you.”
“Who?” Delilah said without looking up.
“I’m not sure, she said she’d like to speak to you both.”
“Well, let her in then,” Jeffery waved his hand at her, “show her to the living room, we’ll be there in a moment.”
Petunia did just that, settling both herself and the strange women in the living room while they waited for the rest of the Evans.
“I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Oh, I am professor McGonagall. I’m here with a proposition for a Miss Lily Evans.”
Petunia hummed, tilting her head for a moment before it clicked, “Can you do magic as well? Have you come to teach her?”
“Why, yes, yes I do – and I am. I’m a professor at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry.” McGonagall looked rather pleased and Petunia had to fight off the urge to preen, “It’s a shame I can’t offer you a place as well, you would’ve been a fine addition to Hogwarts.”
“Thank you, Professor. I admit I was rather bitter when we were younger, but I’ve come to terms with it. No use crying over spilt milk and all that.”
In truth she’d always envied Lily for her gift – it was completely unfair that only one of the Evans sisters be granted magical powers and the other a childhood of neglect. But with the Williamsons she’d found acceptance and managed to let go of that resentment over magic– now she only hated Lily for being a spoilt brat.
McGonagall nodded, “Are you close with your sister, then?”
Before she could answer the rest of the Evans came into the room and there was a knock at the door.
Petunia stood, smoothing out her skirt in the process, “It was lovely meeting you, Professor, but I’m afraid I have somewhere to be.”
They shook hands, “And you, Petunia.”
She was out the door before anything else could be said, and if McGonagall noticed how she did not bid her family farewell, well, she didn’t comment.
Lewis was wating for her, sheepishly holding a donut out in a gesture of good will.
“Sorry for leaving you stranded.”
Petunia glared at him, but her lips were twitching upwards so he knew she didn’t mean it.
Lewis smirked, “Hey! You can’t be mad at me, I got you a double chocolate with extra sprinkles.”
“Just because you memorised my favourite donut doesn’t mean you can use it to get out of trouble.”
“it’s worked every time so far,” he sang.
Petunia took a very pointed bite out of her donut in response.
“Told you!”
And with that Petunia put Lily and Hogwarts out of her mind. She had her GCSE’s to worry about – no use wasting brain space worrying about what was happening in a magic school while she had real life to worry about.
Studying was… hectic. The two girls had commandeered an entire spare room in the Williamson house for it. Their notes were everywhere, flashcards were pinned to a corkscrew board that had been brought in from… somewhere, and piano music was playing faintly in the background. Loretta supplied a steady stream of coffee and food while the two men stayed as far from that room as they could get.
And then it was just, well, over. It was sort of anticlimactic, in a way. All this preparation and lead up to the big exams and then you just did them. Now A levels were around the corner and the GCSE’s didn’t even seem like that much of a big deal.
Petunia had made it a point to drop by the Evans house when the results were released, she didn’t plan to stay, so she made Lewis wait for her in the car.
“The GCSE results came in,” She called from just inside the front door, “I got five A’s and four A stars!”
“Mhm.” Came the enthusiastic response.
Which was almost entirely what Petunia was expecting but never let it be said that you can reach a quota on disappointment.
“What’d they say.” Lewis asked when she slipped back into the car.
“I don’t think they were listening.”
He bit his lip, fumbling for a moment before sighing and resolutely taking her hand.
“They are fucking idiots, Petunia.”
“Lewis…”
“No. I know that you like to pretend you’re okay with the way they treat you but it still gets to you. I know it does.” He stared at her until she lifted her chin to meet his eyes. “So I’m telling you now. You are amazing, and smart, and funny, and pretty, and they’re idiots, Petunia. They’re idiots for not realising how special you are.“
And then Petunia’s lips were on Lewis’s. He’d been inching forward his entire speech, but in the end it was Petunia to surge forward, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt and hauling him into her.
They kept kissing until both their lips were kind of sore and their backs were protesting at the awkward position.
“Tunia’” Lewis panted into her shoulder, “I never got to ask. Would you like to go out with me sometime?”
She laughed, “Of course I would, you idiot.”
And then, in the blink of an eye, years had passed.
Petunia and Lewis were going steady. All the Williamsons had been thrilled when they announced that they were dating – even if Genevieve had been slightly grossed out because, ew, that was her brother.
Lily had been off to magic school for the past two years and the girls had gotten through A levels without a hitch. Petunia had also officially stopped going over to the Evans house, she hadn’t even seen her parents in about a year.
The single occasion they’d had contact was when she popped over to discuss university with them and they’d gravely informed her that Hogwarts tuition was incredibly expensive. And, Lily clearly needed the money far more than she did. And, you understand, don’t you petunia?
Contrarily, Petunia did not understand. But she’d also been expecting this to happen since she was like eight, so it wasn’t exactly a hard pill to swallow.
Luckily, with her excellent grades and glowing letters of recommendation, plus the money she’d been saving for the past decade, Petunia was hardly limited in her choices.
In the end she’d decided to go to Queens university in Belfast to get a degree in psychology on a partial scholarship. Genevieve was going as well, except she’d be studying to become a nurse. This decision was only a little influenced by the fact that Lewis was also doing his second year of his joint engineering and business degree there too.
And so things went for the next seven odd years.
They’d all graduated and moved back to Surry. Genevieve was working as a nurse in the local hospital while Petunia was an assistant psychiatrist at a practice near the house. Lewis had even started his own car shop for when he wasn’t helping his father manage the family wealth.
Oh, and Petunia was now officially Mrs Petunia Williamson.
It was almost funny how before, back when she was Petunia Evans and every written document and formal address was a reminder of a horrible childhood, she’d hated introducing herself. Now though; now all she felt was a bubbling rush of joy and relief.
Nobody was quite sure who was the happiest person at the wedding. Lewis, who started crying when Petunia stepped into sight, Petunia, who hadn’t stopped grinning the entire day, or Genevieve, who dragged Petunia around and introduced her as ‘my sister, officially now.’
The Evans were not invited to the wedding.
The only time Petunia had even spoken to them since that fate full day was when she’d dropped by the house to pick up some of her baby stuff – Pregnancy had made her impulsive, and this morning she’d been struck with the thought that she wanted her child to have something of hers.
Had she taken perhaps five minutes more to think it through she’d have probably have just sent Lewis and Genevieve to do the dirty work for her. But, as previously stated, pregnancy made her impulsive.
She’d hopped in the car and drove down to her old house without a second thought.
“Petunia?” Delilah Evans had said in shock when she opened the door, “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.” Petunia said dryly, pushing past her mother, “I’m just here to grab some of my stuff from upstairs.”
“Wait!”
Petunia turned at the base of the stairs, “What?”
“Who’s the father?”
“My husband.” Petunia answered shortly.
“You got married?”
Petunia resisted, but just barely, the urge to roll her eyes – pregnancy was making her snappy as well as impulsive, “Yes, I just said that.”
“But – how – what –“
Petunia left her mother spluttering and hobbled – her big belly was in the way of her legs god damnit, she should’ve done this months ago – up to her room. The box of baby stuff were right where she’d left them: stuffed in the back of her empty closet.
She placed it on her hip and then started the trek back downstairs where, joy oh joy, her father was waiting with his hands on his hips.
“Petunia Marie Evans –“
“It’s Williamson now, actually.” She cut him off with a small smirk.
“How could you?”
Petunia raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “How could I what?”
His face was red and he spluttered before gesturing harshly in the direction of her stomach, “Marry some random man and then get yourself knocked up like some common floozy!”
“Excuse me?” Petunia said, offended, “Why on earth would you assume that? No – what makes you think you have any right to question me?
“We’re you’re parents.” Jefferey frowned.
“Please,” Petunia scoffed, “I moved out when I was fourteen.”
“What?!” Delilah gasped, “Where were you?!”
“You didn’t even realise I was gone – you lost any claim you might’ve had the moment I turned eighteen and stopped being your legal responsibility.”
The looked like they were about to argue but Petunia held a hand up to silence them.
“If you must know,” She started, “I began staying at a friend’s house when I was twelve, that same friend later offered me permanent accommodation, which I graciously accepted. I lived with them from age fourteen to eighteen, at which point I was accepted into Queens and studied Psychology, along with my friend and her brother – whom I started dating at age seventeen. Five years later he proposed to me and I said yes.”
“You didn’t invite us to your wedding.” Delilah said, voice small.
Petunia wasn’t moved, “No, I didn’t. I had my husband’s father walk me down the aisle. It was quite a lovely ceremony, lots of tears.”
Jeffery looked down and away.
“Lily got married too.” Delilah spoke after an awkward moment of silence.
“Good for her. A little young, but she’s always been reckless.” Petunia shifted on her feet, “If that’s all, my husband and I were planning to paint the nursery today.”
“I could help.” Delilah said quickly.
Jeffery grunted, “I’d like to meet my son in law.”
Petunia eyed them both. This was everything she’d ever wanted, both her parents showing interest in her life, Twenty five fucking years too late.
“No. No I don’t think so. I don’t want you in my life and I don’t want you in my son’s life.” She turned to leave, pausing just before she shut the door, “I had to get therapy because of you two. Lewis convinced me it would be a good idea, it really did help me realise how fucking terrible you were as parents.” She patted her stomach, “If I ever have any doubts with this little one, I’ll just do the opposite of whatever you did to me.”
“Petunia Evans,” Jefferey scowled, “How dare you –“
“Williamson.” She said sharply, “My name is Petunia Williamson.”
She closed the door before they could say another word.
Ten months later and both her parents were dead, a car crash – drunk driver who hit them and then high tailed it out of there. Petunia had been nursing her child, a strong baby boy they’d named Daniel, when the police had rung to tell her.
She’d told them to tell Lily Evans and hung up. And then she’d felt slightly bad about the fact that she didn’t care at all.
“Is it bad?” She’d asked Lewis as they laid in bed that night.
“Not at all, honey.” He said, burying his nose in her blonde curls and kissing her head, “They didn’t care for you, why should you care for them?”
She wondered if Lily went to their funeral.
She wondered if there’d been a funeral at all.
Daniel was a whole two years old when Petunia was startled awake in the middle of the night by a pounding at the door. Whoever it was, Petunia was going to beat them black and blue because she had just gotten Daniel to close his eyes and now his cries were echoing throughout the house.
The door swung open and Petunias scowl was met with… no one?
And then she looked down and oh.
That was a baby, in a basket. There was a baby in a basket on her front porch.
What the fuck?
“Lewis!” She called, grabbing the basket and delicately placing it on the table before extracting the shivering child within.
“Wazzit?” He asked, stumbling down the stairs still clearly half asleep, though he certainly sobered up when he noticed that his wife was holding a baby that definitely wasn’t theirs.
“Someone left a baby on the porch.”
“On the porch?”
Petunia nodded, “In a basket!”
“Is there a note?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t check.” Petunia rocked the child in her arms, thankful that at least Daniel had settled back down without her having to go deal with him as well.
Lewis rummaged around in the basket before triumphantly holding up a piece of parchment, “Aha! Let’s see… Petunia Evans – it’s Williamson now, actually” Lewis corrected with a smug smile.
“Just read the letter, Lewis.” Petunia sighed.
“Yes, yes. Okay where was I…
Petunia Evans,
I’m writing to let you know that my husband, James, and I were involved in a horrific event this past evening. We were attacked by the leader of a terrorist organisation. We both miraculously survived. Though my husband is severely injured he is expected to make a full recovery.
This terrorist organisation is out to get people like me, who were born to non-magical parents, and people like my husband, so called ‘blood-traitors’ who associate with us. One of our sons, Michael Charles Potter, managed to defeat the man who attacked us with his magic, thus ending a long and bloody war.
Though the war is over there are still many out there who believe people like me and my children should be killed. So we have sent our younger son, Harry James Potter, into your care. Michael is prophesised to defeat this great evil and so must be trained in our world, but Harry will be safer in your care.
He’s currently fifteen months old and his birthday is the thirty first of July. He hasn’t any allergies.
We will return for him on his eleventh birthday should he be accepted to Hogwarts.
Sincerely,
Lily Potter.”
Petunia blinked, taking a moment to be thankful she’d told the Williamsons about magic when she’d married in.
“Wow,” Lewis said, “Your sister is a bitch.”
Petunia snorted, “She’s doing just what my parents did but better. She got rid of the lesser sibling all together.”
Lewis paused, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, “We’re keeping him, right?”
“Of course we are.” Petunia looked down at the baby in her arms, “And we’re certainly not giving him back in ten years.”
“So, to the adoption agency in the morning?”
“This is why I love you.”
“Aw,” Lewis cooed as he came to stand beside Petunia to stare at a sleeping Harry, “I love you too, Tunia’”
The adoption agency, of course, was incredibly understanding – well, as soon as Lewis started tossing money at them they were – and managed to fast track the entire process. Within a week Little Harry David Williamson had everything he needed to be a functioning citizen of the world.
The rest of the Williamsons were ecstatic to meet the newest member of the family, even as they fumed once they’d heard just why he was with them. Genevieve was also exited to announce her pending marriage to a nice girl she’d met at work.
Dianna, Genevieve’s fiancé, was obviously nervous, seeing as she’d proposed to Genevieve a year into their relationship and without meeting the family, but she fit right in.
Sometimes people are just meant to be – and Dianna and Genevieve, they just clicked.
The whole family was taking a trip to America so the two could be married by some spiritual priest – because, duh, two women getting married in great Britain in the eighties was not an option.
It was fun.
The whole thing had involved a lot of beads and wine and fabric. But Genevieve was smiling brighter than the sun and Dianna had her arm plastered around her new wife the entire night. Petunia held Daniel on one hip and Harry on the other while she gave Dianna the obligatory shovel talk.
Soon enough her boys were off to school. Harry was a bloody genius and, while Daniel was no slouch, he was by far the more athletically inclined of the two. Daniel had taken the role of a protector for his brother, seeing as said brother was the biggest nerd anyone in Surry had ever seen – Harry also had the unfortunate habit of being entirely unable to keep his mouth shut when he witnessed an injustice.
Later, Harry would experience the growth spurt to end all growth spurts coupled with muscle gained from hours and hours of Quidditch practice. But for now he was a scrawny child who got into a frankly astonishing amount of fights.
All of which Daniel had had to yank him out of.
David Williamson had finally decided to retire and passed the mantle onto his son so he and his wife could travel the world. Genevieve and Dianna had moved in next door to Petunia and Lewis, which everyone involved was ecstatic about as it lead to many family game nights, gossip sessions, and easy access to babysitters for date night.
Petunia and Lewis were also certain that Harry would indeed be receiving a Hogwarts letter.
From the moment they’d adopted him he’d been displaying signs of power. He’d levitate blocks or toys whenever he or David wanted them, pop in and out of existence when it came time for a bath. On one memorable occasion he’d turned Lewis’s hair electric blue – Lewis had liked it so much he’d kept it for seven months before dying it back.
Petunia made it a point to sit down with both boys when they turned ten and explain that yes, Harry had magic. Yes, there were other people with magic. No, that didn’t mean she loved either of them any more or less than the other.
She’d also given Harry the letter Lily had written all those years ago.
She and Lewis had never hid Harry’s origins from him. Though even if they did it would be hard to explain how he was their biological child. Both Petunia and Lewis were fair skinned and, while Lewis did have brown hair, Harry’s Olive skin and jet black hair weren’t anywhere close to a match for it.
And so, when Lily and her husband did inevitably show up, everyone was prepared.
“Hello!” Lily greeted cheerfully when Genevieve opened the door. The entire Williamson family was piled into Petunias living room, they’d all insisted on camping out there when they found out what was happening. “I’m Lily Potter and –“
“Yes, yes. I know who you are, Petunia told me. Now tone it down, It’s too damn early to be that chirper.”
It was eight am and the rest of the family was happily eating breakfast – Genevieve was a singular night owl in a family of early birds.
“Oh, well then, may we come in?”
Genevieve waved the family of three in.
“Petunia!”
Petunia turned at the sound of her sisters voice, “Lily.”
“Who’re all these people?”
Petunia raised an eyebrow, “My family.”
“Oh,” She faltered for a moment, then perked back up, “This is my husband, James. And our Son Michael – I believe you already know our other son.” She tried for a joke.
“Charmed,” Petunia gestured and her three boys came to stand beside her, “This is my husband, Lewis. And our sons, David and Harry.”
“Now wait just a moment –“
Lewis cut James off with a shit eating grin, Petunia couldn’t be more proud of her husband, “This is my mother, Loretta, and my father, David.”
“It’s a pleasure, but –“
“And this is my sister, Genevieve.”
“We’ve met, now –“
“Oh, have you?” Lewis said cheerfully, “That’s right, she opened the door for you, silly me.”
“Yes but –“
“And let’s not forget the lovely Dianna, my sisters wife. Of course you know my wife, Mrs Potter, she is your sister, after all – even though you haven’t spoken in, what was it, ten years?”
“fifteen.” Petunia added smoothly.
“Ah that’s right,” Lewis nodded, ignoring the way all three Potters looked like they wanted to blow something up, “Fifteen years, that’s a long time to go without speaking to someone. Really, I speak to my sister every day, one would think that –“
“Enough!” Lily shouted, “I’m sorry we haven’t spoken, truly, but I am here to collect my son.”
“Your son?” Petunia asked innocently, “I’m sorry, but I have to inform you that there isn’t a Potter living at this residence.”
James pointed at Harry, “Harry is right there.”
“Yes,” Lewis agreed, “My son, Harry Williamson.”
“His name is Harry Potter.” James frowned.
“Not as of the official adoption records.”
“The what?” Lily screeched.
“Did you really think I’d just give back the child you abandoned on our doorstep?”
“Yes!”
“Well tough, Lily. You can’t pick and choose when to be a mother.”
“I was protecting him!”
“I don’t think even you believe that.” Petunia shot back.
“Does anyone want to hear what I think?” Harry asked and both mothers quieted.
The Potters looked smug, like they just won the whole argument, while the Williamsons calmly gestured at Harry to continue.
“you,” he looked pointedly at his former parents, “Abandoned me in the middle of the night. You had no clue if mum was going to keep me or drop me off at the nearest orphanage. I don’t care who gave birth to me; these people,” Harry gestured at the Williamson, “raised me, they’re my family.”
“Who do you think you are?” Michael snapped out, “You’ve got no right to speak to us like that!”
“You’re the ones who came to see us.” Harry rolled his eyes.
“I think you better leave now. Harry will be attending Hogwarts, but he’s our son.” Petunia smiled sweetly, “I’ll show you to the door.”
The Potters were silent on the short walk to the door, they stepped outside and Lily caught Petunias eye.
“I should have given him to mum and dad, they never would have turned him against me like you have.”
“Oh, Lily. Haven’t you heard?” Her tone was sympathetic, but Petunia was well aware she was grinning like a shark, “Dear old Mumsie and daddy were killed.”
“What?!”
“A car accident about ten years ago.”
Lily screeched, tears filling her eyes, “Why wasn’t I told?”
“I thought you had been.” Petunia shrugged, she paused, tilting her head in consideration, “If not you, Lily, I wonder who arranged the funeral?”
And then she slammed the door in Lily’s outraged face.
Maybe she was holding on to a teensy, tiny bit of resentment when it came to her sister.
She walked back into the living room with her head held high. Her sister, her real one, was fast asleep in her wives arms. Her parents were arguing over what colour they should paint the outside of their house – they’d narrowed it down to beige, and a slightly darker beige. Her kids were engaged in a game of scrabble while her husband smiled up at her from his position on the couch.
“Hey,” He said as she fell into his arms.
“Hey yourself.”
“I love you.” He mumbled into her neck.
She giggled, “Love you too.”
“Ew gross!” Harry shouted.
“Mum! Dad! Stop being gross in front of us!” David added.
Harry clutched at his face, “My eyes! They burn.”
And then everyone was laughing. Long and hard and happy.
It had taken almost three decades to get here, to this good place. Three decades of disappointment and heartache and love and acceptance. It was hard work, but Petunia could honestly say she’d do it all again – the neglect, the hatred, the tests, the therapy.
Their story was far from over. She hadn’t forgotten what Lily had said of terrorist organisations all those years ago. She’d be sending Harry into a place she couldn’t follow and dangers she couldn’t protect him from.
But she knew, as long as they kept this, this right here…
They’d be just fine.