Memories
October 1988
Petunia would like to avoid the label of being obsessed with what happened with her sister, but that would be a lie.
By 1988, Petunia found herself in a situation she never imagined. What began so long ago in her childhood as a deeply buried resentment toward her sister and the magical world, joining MI5 Magical Branch, and her vendetta towards the person responsible for her sister's death had evolved.
It had evolved into an obsession with uncovering the truth about Lily's death.
It had evolved into a methodical investigation. Though she would never admit it, this drive consumed her more than she liked to acknowledge. After seven long years of dead ends and cryptic clues, she finally had a lead from a source she had not anticipated. Petunia had spent seven years piecing together the fragmented history of Voldemort, a task that tested every ounce of her training and resourcefulness.
Each lead, however small, had been meticulously followed, each detail scrutinised. Petunia's investigation had been methodical, almost clinical. She approached it as she would any intelligence operation, creating a timeline that traced Voldemort's rise to power, starting from the first whispers of his name to the night her sister was murdered. She had spent countless hours pouring over any scrap of information she could find, chasing leads that often ended in bitter frustration. The process was slow, the trail cold, but she was nothing if not persistent.
She had created an elaborate timeline, starting from when Voldemort, or Tom Marvolo Riddle as she now knew him, first emerged as a dark force. The task was not just daunting, it was monumental. Tracking down Riddle's activities, his last known locations and his family history was a Herculean challenge, as was the final transformation into Voldemort, but Petunia had done it. She had combed through old records, chased rumours, and leveraged every contact she had in the magical and Muggle worlds.
She had uncovered the truth behind the enigma that was Lord Voldemort, and with that, she was able to create a timeline that highlighted the significant events leading up to Lily's death. Yet, the most challenging part was figuring out what happened after Voldemort's disappearance. The magical community had been tight-lipped, claiming Voldemort was dead, and any records were either sealed or conveniently lost. Dumbledore, the only person who might have known more, had been infuriatingly cryptic.
The breakthrough came in early 1988 from an unexpected source. In February of 1988, Dumbledore appeared at her doorstep. Although she had not met him that fateful night or otherwise, he was still unwelcome, his presence as unsettling and unexpected as it had been the first time he unceremoniously left Harry with only a letter on her doorstep.
Petunia was caught off guard when Dumbledore arrived at her house in February. His visit was unwelcome, and his manner was as cryptic as his letter had been. Still, amidst his vague warnings and platitudes about the "Greater Good," he had inadvertently confirmed one of her suspicions—that he had plans for Harry and, more importantly, that Voldemort used to be called Tom Riddle.
Dumbledore’s lead of Voldemort’s true identity had been the missing piece of the puzzle. With that knowledge, Petunia had spent ten months diving deeper into Voldemort’s past, and what she discovered disturbed her.
His identity as Tom Marvolo Riddle—was a revelation that shocked her, though not as much as she had anticipated. Realising that the Dark Lord had once been a mere boy with a tragic past didn't elicit pity but rather a renewed determination. It also made her question how such a man could hold so much power and influence over so many.
One fact kept resurfacing during her investigation: Voldemort had a penchant for giving unique objects to his followers. Objects that Petunia suspected were more than mere gifts. Perhaps they were imbued with dark magic, tied to his power.
Fortunately, Petunia had an asset that could help her: Lucius Malfoy. Though their alliance was one of convenience, she knew Lucius possessed the knowledge and resources she needed. Petunia was determined to obtain whatever object Voldemort might have given to Lucius.
If necessary, she would eliminate it herself, like she had deposed of that strange necklace at Sirius's house that she knew now was Horcrux, which both thought belonged to one of Sirius's crazy family members. She was no longer just a sister seeking closure; she was an intelligence officer with a mission to protect her family, Harry, and her son from a danger that was far from over.
As she prepared to confront Lucius and dig deeper into the dark artefacts Voldemort had left behind, Petunia couldn’t help but reflect on how far she had come.
October 1988
Sirius Black was accustomed to being misunderstood, labelled, and even hated. But nothing had prepared him for the day when Petunia, of all people, had cleared his name. It was 1981, and he had been languishing in Azkaban, branded a traitor and a murderer. His own world had turned against him, and he had nearly lost all hope. The idea that Petunia, a Muggle he barely knew, would come to his defence, and with the help of Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, no less, was beyond comprehension.
Even now, the memory of that moment still baffles him. Petunia, with her sharp intelligence and colder-than-ice demeanour, had not only believed in his innocence but had also taken the necessary steps to ensure he was acquitted. She had used her connections, including the unlikely duo of Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, to gather evidence and present it in a way that the Ministry of Magic could not ignore. The entire affair had been handled with the precision of a military operation—swift, efficient, and without room for doubt.
Sirius often wondered what had driven Petunia to act on his behalf. Initially, he had thought she might have done it out of some sense of duty to her nephew, Harry, or perhaps even as a favour to Lily’s memory. However, as time passed and he observed Petunia more closely, he realised that her motivations were far more complex.
By 1986, Petunia’s influence had extended beyond just clearing his name. She had also taken Remus Lupin under her wing, helping him achieve a financial independence he had never thought possible. It had been Petunia’s idea for Remus to take on a Muggle job, leveraging his intellect and talents in a world that didn’t care about his lycanthropy. She had suggested he work in a library and eventually become a curator at the Royal Museum. This position suited his love for knowledge and allowed him to live a relatively everyday life.
Sirius had initially been wary of Petunia’s intentions. He knew she wasn’t doing this out of the goodness of her heart. He suspected she saw him and Remus as little more than strays—lost dogs needing training and discipline. The thought had annoyed him, but over time, he saw that Petunia’s actions, though calculated, were also rooted in a genuine desire to protect her family.
Petunia and Sirius had both started attending therapy, which had been her suggestion after his release. Therapy had been another unexpected twist in his life. At first, he had scoffed at the idea, unwilling to bear his soul to a stranger. But as the sessions progressed, he found himself unravelling his past traumas—his upbringing in the House of Black, the horrors of Azkaban, and his complicated relationship with Snape. During these sessions, he began to see Petunia in a new light.
She wasn’t just the cold, calculating woman he had first thought. Beneath the surface, Petunia was intensely protective of those she cared about, and that list now included him and Remus. They weren’t just tools in her arsenal but part of her strategy to create a secure and loving environment for her children. Harry and now her son, Alexander, were the centre of her world, and she would go to any lengths to ensure their safety and happiness.
Sirius understood this, and it changed the way he saw Petunia. She wasn’t the villain he had once imagined. Instead, she was a fierce, resourceful woman who had learned to navigate both the magical and non-magical worlds with a skill few possessed. Her willingness to form unlikely alliances, even with someone like Lucius Malfoy, spoke to her pragmatism and ability to see beyond old prejudices.
Over time, Sirius and Petunia developed an unlikely friendship. Their therapy sessions had brought them closer, revealing shared wounds and a mutual understanding of what it meant to be an outsider. Sirius had never expected to find a friend in Petunia, but as they worked together to protect Harry and Alexander, he realised that a common goal bound them.
Sirius also knew that Petunia saw him as a valuable ally who could help protect her children from the dangers of the magical world. She had made it clear that she wanted as many people as possible on her side who could offer different perspectives and skills. And despite their rocky start, Sirius had become one of those people.
He respected Petunia for her tenacity and her unwavering commitment to her family. He had once been surprised by her actions, but now, he understood them. Petunia was not a woman to be underestimated. She was a protector, a strategist, and, above all, a mother who would do whatever it took to keep her children safe. And for that, Sirius was grateful.
October 1988
By October 1988, Narcissa Malfoy reflected on the unexpected turns her life had taken over the past few years. As she sipped her tea in the grand drawing room of the Malfoy Manor, she marvelled at the unlikely friendships and connections she had formed, ones that would have seemed unimaginable just a few years prior.
Narcissa had always been a woman of elegance, tradition, and pride—values deeply ingrained in her by the pure-blood society she had been born into. The idea of befriending a Muggle, let alone a Muggle like Petunia, would have once been unthinkable. Yet, here she was, finding herself not only respecting Petunia but also considering her a true friend. The bond they had formed was one built on mutual respect and a shared determination to protect their families in a world full of dangers and uncertainties.
In 1983, when Narcissa had first suggested a tutor for Harry and Alexander, she had seen it primarily as an opportunity to further Draco’s education and ensure that children of suitable backgrounds would surround him. Harry Potter, despite his half-blood status, had always been a curiosity due to his fame and tragic past, but his connection to Petunia had given Narcissa pause. Petunia was unlike any Muggle Narcissa had ever encountered—intelligent, strategic, and fiercely protective of her family. This intrigued Narcissa, and she saw potential in fostering a relationship that could benefit both her son and her broader ambitions.
What Narcissa hadn’t anticipated was how naturally Harry and Draco would bond. The two boys, along with Alexander, quickly became inseparable, forming a trio that balanced each other's strengths and weaknesses. Ever the planner, Narcissa was pleased with this development, seeing the benefits of her son forging a close friendship with Harry Potter. It was an advantage that could not be underestimated, especially given the political and social upheavals in the magical world.
But something unexpected happened along the way. As the boys' friendship deepened, so did Narcissa's connection with Petunia. Initially, their interactions had been cordial, driven by mutual interests in their children's education and welfare. However, as time passed, Narcissa found herself genuinely admiring Petunia’s resilience and how she navigated the complexities of both the magical and non-magical worlds. Petunia, in turn, began to trust Narcissa, seeing in her a woman who, despite their differences, understood the burdens of protecting a family in a world that often seemed intent on tearing it apart.
*****
The surprise of this friendship was compounded by Narcissa’s growing closeness with her estranged cousin, Sirius Black. His exoneration in 1981 had been a turning point, thanks largely to Petunia’s determined efforts. Although Narcissa had been hesitant at first—years of being taught that Sirius was a traitor and a disgrace to the Black family had left deep scars—she slowly began to see him in a different light. Through shared conversations and the gradual rebuilding of trust, Narcissa found that Sirius was not the reckless rebel she had been led to believe but a man scarred by trauma yet determined to rebuild his life.
Sirius’s reentry into her life brought back memories of a time before the darkness of war had split their family apart. He reminded her of the bonds that had once existed between the members of the Black family—bonds that had been frayed by differing ideologies but never completely severed. In Sirius, Narcissa found a connection to her past, which was more complex than the rigid, pure-blood ideals she had been raised with. His presence and their growing relationship gave her back a part of her family she had thought was lost forever.
The most surprising twist of all, perhaps, had been Narcissa's decision to expand the tutoring arrangement she had set up for Draco, Harry, and Alexander into something of a small, private school for children within her social circle. What had started as a way to ensure the boys received the best possible pre-Hogwarts education had evolved into a larger community of families, all bound by similar values and goals. Narcissa had taken on the role of organiser and overseer, ensuring that the children learned not only the fundamentals of magic but also the nuances of social and political strategy that would serve them well in the future.
As she watched the children interact—laughing, learning, and growing together—Narcissa felt a sense of fulfilment she hadn’t expected. These were not just her son’s friends; they were a part of a new generation that she and Petunia, in their own ways, were helping to shape. The irony of it all was not lost on Narcissa—here she was, a proud pure-blood witch, finding herself in a position where she was helping to guide not just pure-bloods but children of varied backgrounds, including a half-blood and a Muggle-born.
Now, in October 1988, as Narcissa reflected on these developments, she was still surprised by where life had led her. The friendships she had formed with Petunia and Sirius, the educational initiative she had spearheaded, and the deepening bond between their children—these were all things she had never envisioned for herself. Yet, they had become an integral part of her life, reshaping her understanding of family, loyalty, and what it meant to protect those she loved.
Narcissa knew that the road ahead was still fraught with challenges. The magical world was unpredictable, and the shadows of the past still loomed large. But for the first time in a long time, Narcissa felt a sense of cautious optimism. She had found allies in the most unlikely of places, and together, they were forging a path forward that, she hoped, would lead to a brighter future for all their children.
Severus Snape found Petunia Evans to be an enigma, a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. When she approached him in 1981 with a plan to clear Sirius Black's name, he was taken aback by her audacity and strategic thinking. The plan was bold, involving him, Lucius Malfoy, and the slippery Mundungus Fletcher—an unusual alliance that demonstrated Petunia's cunning and resourcefulness.
Despite his initial reservations, Severus recognised that Petunia saw him as an ally but not one she trusted completely. He knew that she viewed both him and Lucius as potentially expendable if they ever posed a threat to her or her plans. It was clear to Severus that Petunia was far more than just a housewife working at a bed and breakfast; the full extent of her true identity remained a mystery to him. Lucius, however, seemed to have insights that he kept to himself, adding another layer of intrigue.
Two years after their initial collaboration, Severus found himself in a romantic relationship with Elena, Petunia's friend. This development was unexpected for Severus, who had never anticipated forming such a personal connection with someone tied to the complex and secretive world Petunia navigated. It deepened the mystery of Petunia's life and the people she chose to surround herself with, leaving Severus both intrigued and wary.
October 1988
The Delicate Game of Lucius Malfoy
In October 1988, Lucius Malfoy found himself savouring the unexpected pleasure of his association with Theo Prewett. This partnership had become something far more satisfying than a mere business arrangement. His pleasure wasn't rooted solely in the substantial financial gains—though significant—but rather in the layered, sophisticated disdain it allowed him to express towards the Weasley family, whom he viewed with contempt and pity.
The Genesis of a Quiet Insult
In one of her casual conversations, this curious alliance began in May 1983 when Narcissa mentioned John Dankworth, the husband of her surprising new friend Petunia Evans. Narcissa noted how Theo Prewett had been instrumental in helping John navigate the intricate dance between the magical and Muggle financial worlds. This tidbit would seem inconsequential to most, but to Lucius, it was a spark—a chance to turn his contempt for the Weasleys into something far more tangible.
Unlike many of his peers, who disdained the Weasleys purely for their blood traitor status, Lucius's contempt was rooted in something deeper: their poverty and, in his eyes, their unforgivable lack of ambition. Arthur Weasley's contentment with his meagre Ministry job was not just incomprehensible to Lucius; it was infuriating. How could a man with access to the corridors of power be so willing to remain on the periphery, never seizing the opportunities that lay before him?
But the real insult, in Lucius's eyes, was how Arthur and Molly Weasley refused to acknowledge Theo Prewett. Theo, despite being a squib—a fact Lucius could understand them wanting to keep quiet—was also wealthy, successful, and incredibly shrewd. To Lucius, the idea of disregarding a family member with such potential was not only foolish but a waste of the one thing that the Weasleys lacked most: opportunity. A Malfoy would never turn away from family, no matter the circumstances, especially not one with as much to offer as Theo.
The Subtlety of the Game
This realisation led Lucius to see Theo as more than just a business partner. Aligning with Theo wasn’t just a matter of growing wealth; it was a strategic move, a way to deliver a quiet but cutting snub to the Weasley family. Every galleon earned, every successful deal closed with Theo, felt like a personal victory against a family too proud and too blind to grasp the opportunities at their fingertips.
By October 1988, this partnership had blossomed into something Lucius relished. The wealth was undoubtedly a part of it—they were, as he would later tell Narcissa with a rare smile, "stupidly rich" thanks to their ventures. But what truly delighted him was the subtlety of the insult he was delivering, one that would likely go unnoticed by the very people it was aimed at. Theo, the squib they refused to acknowledge, could have been the key to the Weasley family's prosperity. Instead, he was helping to build the Malfoy fortune, and the irony was delicious.
He relished the irony that It was a long game of disdain, played out with all the elegance and brutality Lucius had honed over the years. The knowledge that his actions would likely go unnoticed by the Weasleys only made it sweeter.
The Anticipation of Future Gains
As he reflected on these developments, Lucius couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. The Weasleys would never understand the depth of the insult he was delivering, and that suited him perfectly. There was no need for public displays or overt hostilities; the best insults, Lucius knew, were the ones that cut deep without ever being felt.
Lucius Malfoy, master of subtlety and disdain, had turned a simple business arrangement into a long game of elegant ruthlessness, where wealth and power were merely the byproducts of a far more intricate victory.
Looking ahead, Lucius anticipated his upcoming meeting with Petunia Dankworth with a similar sense of satisfaction. Petunia was a woman of unexpected depth, and Lucius had come to appreciate the subtle power she wielded. Their interactions, while infrequent, were always laced with unspoken understandings and shared ambitions. He hoped that their next meeting would yield opportunities as fruitful—and as quietly satisfying—as his partnership with Theo.