Lunch and Revelation
Lunch was decidedly awkward as Petunia positioned her nephew and son in the chairs provided by the house-elf. Dudley was in the throes of an epic tantrum—she vowed to address his behavior in the near future—and he was attempting to strike Harry once again, which ignited her anger. She could hardly bear to witness her son’s transformation; a part of her wanted to administer another spanking, but instead, she opted to seat him in the chair farthest from Harry. Despite her strong inclination to glare at Dudley, she refrained, believing it unwise to model such behavior for her child, even in the wake of punishment.
Speaking of the elf, when it had first appeared at Snape's summons, she had emitted the highest and most girlish squeak imaginable. Mortified, she had turned a deep shade of crimson and could not bring herself to meet Snape’s gaze thereafter. She had learned that the elf’s name was Kiki, though she remained uncertain about its gender. Based on its name, she presumed it was female, but she was not entirely sure. Thus, she resolved to address it by name while mentally referring to it as "it."
After ensuring the children were settled, she took her own seat at the table. The spread before her featured an array of dishes she had never seen or heard of before, although a familiar tomato salad caught her eye in the corner. Tomato salad had once been her favorite, but she had ceased to indulge in it after marrying Vernon, who despised raw tomatoes. Perhaps that should have been her first indication that something was amiss. She speculated that Lily had informed Snape of her fondness for the dish, or perhaps Snape himself simply enjoyed the summer delicacy as much as she once had. Another reason for her abandonment of many cherished foods was the death of Lily, leaving her uncertain about how to process her feelings.
Severus poured himself and Petunia a glass of wine, sensing that he would need it. He peered over the rim of his glass to find Petunia staring at the food as though it were about to consume her. Dudley, too, regarded the roasted peacock, Shepherd’s Pie, Guinness Stew, and Butterbeer Pot de Crème with wide-eyed curiosity, as if he had never encountered such dishes before. Severus doubted that either of them had, considering these were Wizarding delicacies or meals hailing from beyond England—culinary creations that he suspected Tuney’s husband would have abhorred.
Harry Potter, on the other hand, gazed at the plate before him with an air of detachment. Petunia had mentioned that while she would tend to Dudley, Harry could manage his cutlery and was a dignified eater. Sure enough, the boy held his knife and fork with the poise of a Pureblood Lord. Severus banished any lingering doubts as he leaned forward to serve his guests. He would have summoned Kiki to assist, but he wished to avoid the cacophony of a chubby child wailing at her reappearance.
He swiftly carved the roasted meat into portions, placing small pieces onto each plate. Petunia was correct; the Potter boy exhibited no difficulty in feeding himself. In fact, Severus could go so far as to assert that Hadrian ate with the finesse one would expect from a proper heir trained for years. And he was merely four years old. He glanced at the woman seated beside him, who had deftly arranged a napkin around Dudley and successfully managed to feed him some meat without creating a mess. Severus found himself impressed, considering how much the plump boy was squirming. A half hour later, everyone had been fed and watered, and Severus ushered them into a cozy study.
“Tell me precisely what is going on.”
Petunia shifted uneasily under Severus's penetrating gaze—she had ensured that Dudley sat to her left while Harry occupied her right. Uncertainty washed over her as she contemplated how to convey her troubles to the man she had treated poorly for so long. It had been years since they had last spoken, and in that time, she had been nothing but dreadful to him. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she began to speak.
“Harry was left on my doorstep in the middle of November in 1981, nestled in a basket with nothing but the blue blanket that Lily had made and a note bearing death threats. At first, I was horrified and reluctant to keep him, but I reasoned that he would be better off with me than in some dreadful orphanage… My husband, however, vehemently disagreed. He dismissed the death threats entirely and began treating Harry atrociously. Every time I implored him to stop, he would strike me and tell me to ‘shut up like a good little wife.’ After spending just a week with Harry, I realized that something was profoundly wrong. He never cried, laughed, or screamed as Dudley did.”
“It frightened me so greatly that about a year ago, I began to sift through Lily's trunk, which I have brought with me. I meticulously examined all her schoolbooks and the notes she had accumulated after classes. Over time, I noticed that some of the notes were missing, replaced by writings attributed to her husband, James. Yet what truly alarmed me was the content of the surviving notes, which focused exclusively on the side effects of love potions. The notes alluded to a potion capable of revealing whether someone had been dosed with a love potion and identifying the individual responsible, determined by the child's blood. I cannot ascertain if this is possible or true, and you were the only person I could think of who might be able to assist me,” she confessed, deliberately omitting the fact that she had previously perused the schoolbooks, not merely the notes.
Severus scrutinized Petunia Dursley, née Evans, noting the distress etched upon her features, and then his gaze shifted to the little black-haired boy seated beside the boisterous Dudley. Harry Potter was indeed an enigma. Severus observed the utter disinterest the boy exhibited in his surroundings, a stark contrast to the typical behavior of children his age, and the profound silence that enveloped him. Petunia’s suspicions did not seem unfounded. Merlin, if what she claimed were accurate, it would upend everything.
“I will need to conduct some tests to confirm this,” he stated. “But if your assertions hold true, then Merlin—.” He abruptly halted his thoughts. “I assume you have no other place to go.” Petunia nodded in affirmation. “Very well. You may remain here. Kiki will escort you to the guest room.” At his command, his house-elf appeared, carrying Petunia’s forgotten bags and ushering her and the children out of the room.
With a heavy sigh, Severus rose and made his way to his liquor cabinet. He poured himself a generous glass of Firewhisky and settled back into his chair, casting longing glances at the potions journal he would now be unable to read. After downing the Firewhisky in a single gulp, he stood once more, this time proceeding directly to his warded bookshelf, where he retrieved a tome that many wizards and witches would categorize as dark. Severus scoffed at such labels; to him, there was no distinction between Dark and Light, only magic and the weak-minded who feared it. He opened the book and began to research.
For Petunia, the week passed with excruciating slowness as she juggled watching the children and assisting Snape with the books and journals contained within Lily's trunk. She noted with growing frustration that Snape was grappling with the same issue that had vexed her: several of the journals were either half-finished, missing, or nearly destroyed. Lily frequently referenced a missing journal or one belonging to her husband that simply was not present.
This realization began to gnaw at her, and she could sense Snape's mounting agitation over the scarcity of resources at his disposal. Dudley continued to cause disruptions—although she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised by his behavior. Transformation could not occur overnight, even if she wished it could. Conversely, Harry was remarkably well-behaved and polite; at times, she found herself wishing he would display a bit more childish exuberance.
Presently, she sat in one of the armchairs in Snape’s living room. She had just put the boys to bed, yet there were still matters she needed to attend to before retiring for the night. For a fleeting moment, she pondered whether the process would be expedited if none of the items Lily had mentioned were missing or destroyed. She quickly dismissed that thought. She was grateful she had come here; she knew her husband would attempt to locate her but would ultimately come up empty-handed, given that she was with a wizard. She momentarily wondered if Harry comprehended what was unfolding and what had transpired in his life, but quickly suppressed that thought.
Snape growled as he rummaged through the trunk once more. The journal that Potter was supposed to have used was missing, much like half of the items Lily had referenced in her own notes. He had attempted to summon it using the Accio charm, but the trunk was protected by anti-summoning charms. With a frustrated bang, he shut the trunk and stalked over to the books in his potions lab. Several of them bore the label of ‘dark,’ but Snape was unconcerned with pandering to the masses who were too timid to explore the depths of magic. He began scanning them for references to love potions. There were recipes for several, including Amortentia, but none provided substantial information beyond their applications and methods of nullification. They were decidedly unhelpful in determining whether a child had been born to parents affected by potions.
Severus paced restlessly around his lab, consumed by the need to uncover what had transpired at Potter Manor. He recognized that only two individuals were alive who could provide clarity. He sighed, reflecting, ‘I detest werewolves,’ as he moved to pour himself another drink. His guests were not doing his liver any favors. However, he halted abruptly upon spotting Petunia in the living room.
“Tuney,” he said cautiously. “How may I assist you?”
Petunia nearly flinched at the sound of his voice but managed to restrain herself. She hadn’t noticed him approaching, but that did not mean she was unaware of his presence in the house. Lately, she had been consumed by a thought that persisted in nagging at her mind. She felt an urgent need to ask, or she would never find peace.
“Do wizards and witches possess a location other than a trunk for storing their belongings?” she inquired.
“Because if such a place exists, is it possible that Lily and James concealed some of their items there, and perhaps that place holds…” she continued, suddenly realizing something significant. “Their wills!”
Her sister and her husband had never had their wills read. She was certain of this because she had awaited notification regarding the will reading, but none had ever arrived.
“Oh my God! Their wills were never read!” She turned to Snape with such suddenness that it appeared she might have suffered whiplash.
Why had she not considered this before? More importantly, why had no one else thought to investigate the wills of Harry's parents?
Severus froze at Petunia’s words. The wills of the Lord of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter and his Lady—if they had been sealed, the individual responsible for this oversight would soon face the wrath of the entire Wizarding World. Even those aligned with the dark side would be incensed, as it was still a Noble House deserving of respect.
“Tomorrow,” he declared with a decisive tone, “we shall make our way to Gringotts — the esteemed bank of the Wizarding World,” he elaborated, noting the woman's perplexed expression. “It is overseen by goblins, known for their shrewdness and efficiency. There, we shall uncover all the information necessary for our endeavors. Ensure you are prepared after breakfast.” With these words, Severus turned on his heel and swept out of the room, his mind set on spending the night immersed in the tomes of his library.
Petunia nodded silently, her acknowledgment lost in the absence of his gaze. Rising from her seat, she made her way to the guest bedroom, conscious of the early dawn that awaited her visit to this enigmatic Gringotts establishment. Determined to be well-rested, she resolved to retire early. Her thoughts, however, drifted back to her sister; she stifled the familiar lump that rose in her throat at the mere mention of her name. A fleeting curiosity crossed her mind: how might their relationship have unfolded had magic not been a factor in their lives?
She forcefully suppressed these musings, along with the lump that threatened to overwhelm her. There would be time for such reflections later, once the pressing matters at hand were resolved. Not now, not when more urgent tasks loomed on the horizon. Closing the door to the guest room behind her, she climbed into bed, surrendering to sleep, albeit with considerable difficulty.