Chapter 6
Petunia Evans stood in the center of her rundown apartment, the late afternoon light filtering through the dusty windows, illuminating the boxes filled with remnants of her past. She was wearing an expression that blended anxiety and relief, perhaps the first hint of exhilaration she had felt in years. Her friend, JB — his real name Jonathan, but she’d always called him JB since their school days — was at her side, carefully wrapping a delicate porcelain figurine that once belonged to their mother.
As he placed the figurine into the box, he turned and smiled at her, his brown eyes warm with genuine affection. “How did you end up here, Pet?” he asked, humor lacing his voice. “Packing up your life like you’re going off to war.”
“It was never really my life, was it?” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She waved a hand around the shabby apartment, filled with mismatched furniture and a lingering odor of mildew. “What did I have here? A job I loathed, memories I’d rather forget, and a family who always overlooked me.”
JB stepped closer and enveloped her in a warm hug, holding her for a moment longer than necessary. “Take care of yourself, Pet. And never come back to these shabby streets.”
As they pulled away, Petunia looked into his eyes, noticing how they sparkled with kindness. “Thank you, JB, for everything you’ve done for me,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
JB nodded, his expression softening. “Always, Pet. You know I’m just a call away.”
Their goodbye was brief, but heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Petunia felt the tug of regret mingled with hope as she opened the door to her future. Just outside, Dolores Umbridge waited, her figure stark against the gray and grim backdrop of the London streets. A smile stretched across her face, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Are you ready?” Dolores asked, her tone almost sugary.
Petunia only nodded, unable to form words around the nerves swirling in her stomach. She and Dolores slipped into the waiting cab. As they settled into the plush seats and the driver lurched forward, Petunia turned for one last look at JB. She raised a hand, waving goodbye as the cab pulled away, leaving behind the life she had known.
“Leaky Cauldron, please,” she instructed the driver, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside her.
Dolores's presence beside her felt all at once reassuring and confining. An unease settled in as Petunia finally found the courage to broach the question that had been plaguing her since Dolores had appeared at her door with news of a “better opportunity.”
“So what exactly does Mr. Fudge want from me?” she asked, her brow furrowing.
Dolores turned, her features shifting into a placating mask. “You will know soon enough when you meet him,” she replied cryptically, brushing a stray hair back into her impeccably styled bun.
Petunia pressed further, “But how am I going to be part of your plans if I don’t even know what my role is?”
With a faked smile that seemed a little too rehearsed, Dolores responded, “My dear Petunia, your role will be significant. You are much more valuable than you think you are.”
Petunia felt a knot tighten in her stomach. “And what about my old life?” she asked, voice rising. “Am I really expected to leave everything behind?”
Dolores’s eyes glinted with something Petunia couldn’t quite place, perhaps intrigue or anticipation. “My dear, sometimes in order to move forward, we need to leave some things behind us.” Her tone was saccharine, yet there was an unyielding edge to her words.
Petunia reached into her wallet, her fingers brushing against a wornout photograph. It was a picture of her family, where her parents’ faces lit up with pride over her younger sister, Lily. Even in this trivial snapshot, Petunia could feel the familiar resentment bubbling to the surface. They had always adored Lily, their perfect daughter, while she stood in the background, a shadow trailing behind the sunlight.
Dolores’s gaze flickered to the wallet, and a faint smile danced on her lips as if she could sense Petunia’s internal struggle. The advice coursed through her, urging her to sever ties. “If I’m going to move forward,” she murmured, mostly to herself, “I need to let go.” With a sudden resolution, she tore the photograph into pieces and let the shreds flutter out of the cab window like fallen leaves.
Delighted surprise flickered across Dolores's face, but she quickly masked it. “Ah, now that’s the spirit,” she said, her tone almost sing-song. “You’ll find that relinquishing those ties will only propel you forward.” there was a satisfied glint in her eye.
Arriving at the Leaky Cauldron, Petunia’s heart dropped as the rundown pub loomed before her. Remembrances of her childhood—of family outings stained with jealousy and resentment—washed over her. This place had once seemed so magical; now it felt like ashes spilling from crumbling foundations.
Dolores coughed, breaking Petunia from the reverie. “Are you alright, Petunia?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Petunia replied hurriedly, masking her turmoil with a forced smile. “Just lost in thought.” They entered the pub, where the familiar banter of witches and wizards buzzed around them like bees.
“Tom!” Dolores called to the bartender, her tone all business. She leaned in, tossing silver coins onto the counter. “I would like a cloak for the young lady over here.” Petunia accepted the green cloak from Dolores, feeling its soft fabric brush against her skin. It brought comfort, a false sense of belonging wrapped in secrecy.
“We don’t want people to know that you are a Muggle, at least for now,” Dolores said, slipping the cloak around Petunia’s shoulders.
As they ventured into the bustling Diagon Alley, Petunia’s heart raced at the sights and sounds, both dazzling and daunting. It was a world teeming with the magical, yet all she felt was an undercurrent of resentment boiling within her. And then she saw her—the embodiment of everything Petunia longed to erase from her mind: Lily.
There she was, laughing in animated conversation with friends—Teresa Berlitz, Alice Fortescue, and Sasha Monne. Each smile that graced Lily’s face ignited a fire in Petunia’s chest, one that shouted of betrayal. “How could she be so blissfully unaware?” Petunia thought, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.
Dolores called her name, and Petunia hurried to catch up. “What’s wrong with you today? Are you enjoying the scenery in this magical world?”
Absentmindedly, Petunia nodded, masking her internal turmoil with a tight smile. “Yes, the place looks beautiful.” Yet beneath that façade, anger and longing twisted together in a furious clash. There, among happiness and friendship, she made a silent vow: she would do everything in her power to make Lily’s life difficult.
As they approached the Ministry of Magic, Petunia took a deep breath. She clutched the cloak tighter around her shoulders, keenly aware that she was at a crossroads—one that promised both treachery and opportunity. In the heart of the enchanted world, she would find a way to not just carve out a new life but to reshape everything that came after. The past was a shadow she was determined to cast aside, even if it meant waging war against the sister who had always been favored. This was merely the beginning