It’s shortly after the Order of the Phoenix relocated them to a much-smaller flat in London than their house on Privet Drive that Vernon finally snapped and demanded a divorce.
It had been a long time coming. Of course, the relocation had been the last straw. But two years before, Petunia had found out that her ex-husband had been committing underhanded crimes at work, lying on paper about how much profit the company truly made. This led to shouting matches when Dudley or Harry weren’t home, which was a good portion of the time. And then there had been an argument of needing to send Dudley to another school for specialized needs, to which Vernon let a slur slip from his lips in a private conversation. This led to her slapping him in the face.
And then, finally, the relocation. Once they had moved in, he asked for a divorce: “I have had enough with your freak of a family!”
She was familiar with the F word, when she threw it around at her sister. Now, having it used against her, she felt a giant lump in her throat. Once he walked out, she spent a night nursing a bottle of whiskey once her Dudders went to bed. She wondered if Lily felt the sinking feeling in her stomach when she’d been called a freak. And then she pushed the thought out of her mind, and allowed herself to venomously blame Harry Potter for her woes.
+
She hated so much of her life in that first year. She took on another clerical job, working hours on end. Dudley continued on to finish at Smeltings, just barely graduating. However, he had managed to get accepted into a small school in liberal arts in London, to their surprise.
As they read the acceptance letter, he turned to his mother and grinned big and slow, “I wanna go, mum.”
She worked extra hours to pay for that first year to pay for that tuition. And to her continued surprise, her son had taken their fall from grace quite well and carried his own weight. He taught himself how to clean the house, surprising Petunia on more than one occasion when she arrived home to a spotless flat. She burst into tears, “Oh, Dudders, you’re the most precious thing!”
And then, after that, things improved quickly. It seemed that Vernon’s departure had lifted an unknown weight on them. Petunia could feel herself changing: regarding the world with suspicious eyes, but now with a little more forgiveness. When a coworker was stranded at work because of a thunderstorm, she took her in and allowed her to stay the night. After surrounding herself in a life void of forced normalcy and exceptionally ordinary things, she felt herself soften, becoming kinder again. Dudley, on the other hand, still had major difficulties in class. However, he studied hard and focused. He’d later declare Education as his course of study. When she asked why, he said:
“Kinda wanted to help others the way dad never helped me.”
She acknowledged, then, that while the dissolution of her marriage caused her a more cramped, cheaper lifestyle, it made her happier. So much happier.
But she dared not thank Harry Potter for any of that.
+
One day, Dudley took a girl home for dinner. Petunia had long dreaded the day that he’d get a girlfriend, one reason being she feared that he would accidentally marry a witch.
And it was worse, somehow. When Dudley brought home Aster, she was taken aback to see that the girl was part Chinese, and perhaps African, or something. Her eyes were monolid, and her skin was a bit dark. Her hair was in a long braid. She was short, barely over 5 feet, and she smiled brightly at Petunia while introducing herself. Over dinner, she spoke of her social justice endeavors, protesting and lobbying for equal rights for asylum seekers, “My parents were asylum seekers from different countries.” She nearly fainted at that.
After dinner, as Dudley reentered the apartment with a bright smile after walking Aster home, she said flatly, “I don’t like that girl.”
His face scrunched up and fell as he looked down at his mother. Dudley looked like he was a child all over again, when he’d be told he couldn’t have another ice cream. Now, he may be twice her size, but he was still a baby. “Why?”
“She’s...not normal.”
“She’s not a witch, mum.”
“But she’s-she’s too...ethnic. Imagine the children. It would be so hard to raise them. Their hair would never be neat, always so unruly. And she’s a troublemaker, with all that protesting. What if she gets arrested, and your own reputation is ruined? What would people say?”
And he cut her off, the beginnings of anger striking his face, “I see how it is. Well, mum, she’s brilliant and top of the class. She went out of her way to teach me statistics. And you know what, her being different doesn’t mean she’ll ruin my life. I don’t care if her hair isn’t the way you like it. Give her a chance. You’ll see.”
He was beginning to look like a real man, now. Nothing like his father had been. Liberal arts college had somehow turned Dudley into a critical man who read the news daily and brought up politics over dinner, which baffled his mother. Vernon used to do that, though spent his time rambling and ranting about how the country was falling from its spot. Her son did the opposite. Instead he was always ruminating on how golden the future could become if the world worked together.
After being told by Dudley that he’d move out if she didn’t give her a chance, she reluctantly gave a chance to Aster. It took her a year and a half, but she softened towards the girl. Aster insisted on peaceful protest, declaring her concern for climate change, and always brought baked goods to the apartment. She was nothing like Petunia. She didn’t crane her neck for gossip, or roll her eyes at hippies. She believed the best in people. As time passed, Dudley’s girlfriend had made her even kinder.
I wonder if Lily would have liked her, she once thought, before shoving the thought from her mind. Some things should never be reopened.
+
Dudley and Aster got married late into their 20s. The wedding was small, even if Petunia had always imagined a giant, decorative, and over-the-top wedding for her only son. Vernon was in attendance, and they aggressively ignored the other as the reception went. Instead, she spent her time watching her son and his new bride, realizing that she was getting old.
The married couple moved into a house in the suburbs, and both insisted she live with them. She gladly accepted, dying for a chance to live in a house with space again, so she came along and lived in the second bedroom. She retired from her clerical work shortly after, spending her days spying on neighbors and judging their flowers like she used to, even if Aster gently chided her for it.
And then, suddenly, the house was expecting a baby. Dudley was by no means prepared to be a father, and Aster had been taken aback when she took the pregnancy test. Petunia stayed patient, practicing with them how to change diapers on a flour sack, and spent time decorating the nursery. The new baby became the center of everything. And for all the flaws she’d never admit aloud, she was still experienced at handling a child.
Aster’s water broke too prematurely, while Dudley was at work. Petunia had driven her to the hospital, and insisted on being in the operating room as doctors tried to save the baby’s life. Her gut twisted in itself as she awaited for good news, hopefully. And then, it came: the sound of infant tears. She had been the third person to hold her, after the nurse, and Aster herself. She looked at the face of her granddaughter and resolved that her life had been given meaning again.
“I’m going to name her Lila,” Aster said. Petunia’s gut twisted into itself again at the realization that the name sounded too close to the name Lily, even if her daughter-in-law had no clue about the existence of her sister, “I thought it’d be a beautiful name.”
She opened her mouth, perhaps to protest or at least suggest another time. The baby chose that moment to yawn with a tiny sound, opening her eyes, and they looked like Dudley’s. Petunia decided to close her mouth. Perhaps a name didn’t matter. It was just a name, she tried to convince herself.
+
Lila grew up loved. Aster raised her child on strict values of acceptance, love, and defending others. Calling people names was a big no-no, and the child was making friends quickly as early as two years old. She looked like both her mother and father at once: she had Dudley’s startling blue eyes, and Aster’s dark, thick hair.
For all the prejudices that Petunia once possessed of Aster’s ethnicity and how the children would grow up to be, the baby had become her entire life. She watched her learn to take her steps, read stories to her (all realistic tales, none that had to do with magic), and taught her ABCs. Life was looking overwhelmingly normal in a good way, not forced, simply natural. The way she liked it. She finally felt at peace.
And then Petunia’s life was frozen on its axis on a fateful October morning.
She had watched the little girl trudge through a field, pausing near a patch of dandelions.
“What are you thinking, Lila?” She asked her. The child giggled and sat on the grass, waving her hands in the air. Just then, the dandelions were all plucked from their roots en masse, and as Lila waved her hands to the left, the wispy flowers followed this direction. Petunia couldn’t move, watching in horror as her granddaughter waved the dandelions into a flowing motion like the ocean waves. And they flew off with the breeze.
“Did you see that, gran?” The child’s eyes brightened. She was five years old at this point, and spoke clearly, “Like magic!”
And something snapped within Petunia: a horror, mixed with a guilty disgust that she knew she shouldn’t hold against her granddaughter. Unable to do anything else, she took the child’s hand and half-dragged her home. Lila whimpered slightly at the unusual talon-grip of her grandmother’s hands. For the rest of the day, they sat in silence, while Lila occasionally looked up to her in fear while playing with dolls, until Dudley came home.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, as he saw his mother’s devastated face.
“She-” She couldn’t hold back an angry voice, “She did magic.”
Dudley’s face was shocked, but not angry. Instead, he sat down with his daughter and said, “What’d you do, sweetheart?”
Lila looked up with a smile at her father, “I made the dandelions fly!” She squealed, “They followed me!”
He exhaled shakily, looking back between her and his mother, “Alright. I’ll have to explain everything to Aster, then. And contact Harry.”
Something again snapped inside her, “You are doing no such thing.”
Why not?”
“You know what this means, right? They’ll send her at that crackpot school, she’ll learn all those hocus pocus tricks,” She was parroting the old words of her ex-husband, which she hated, but they were true at that moment. It was the familiar beration that she had given long ago to her nephew and sister, “and things will never be the same for you and her. She’ll push you away because you’re a Muggle. You can just try to raise her normal,” she emphasized that last word, “and teach her to never use it. Keep her here with you. No one has to know.”
He went quiet, considering this, before saying, “You tried doing that with Harry, remember? All those years of trying to shut his magic away. It never ended up happening. He still ended up at that school. He still ended up becoming a wizard.”
“That man is the reason why our lives were ruined in the first place! That school is the reason why your aunt-” she thought of Lily, and the funeral she arranged long ago, and cut off that thought, “why she’s dead!”
“Mum,” he said, with no room for argument, “if we don’t send her to a school, her powers are going to grow and she won’t learn how to control it. It’ll get worse. You remember how Harry would accidentally set things on fire? There is no point in pretending things don’t exist. We did that, and our lives were uprooted and we were driven out of Surrey. I’m going to talk to Harry and speak to him. That’s that. You don’t have to be around to see it.”
She glared at him, but he stared back with calm. She got up, spat, “Fine.” and went upstairs to slam her bedroom door.
+
Those next few days, she noticed an abrupt change between her and her granddaughter. Lila began avoiding her, not looking up at her, and not even requesting to go to the park or the field. Instead, she stayed in her room during the day, playing with her dolls or reading books without any guidance.
Dudley explained everything to Aster, who wouldn’t believe anything until she witnessed Lila play with the dandelions herself. After this, she hesitantly allowed to meet with the Potters, on the condition that she be allowed to observe them before deciding that they could help Lila understand what her powers meant.
“I don’t know what we’re dealing with, Dudley, I just want to be sure that these are people we can trust.” Petunia overheard them in the living room as she was spying on them.
His next words practically appalled her, “Harry is a good man. He’s been through hell and back. If there’s anyone who will want to protect Lila, it’ll be him.”
It took some time, but Dudley finally located Harry through old phone records of Ron Weasley’s old phone calls to them nearly 20 years ago now. He wrote to the old address of Ron’s, only to receive a letter in return from a woman named Molly, who told him that Harry had since gotten married and lived in London, but that she’d inform him of his letter.
Meanwhile, Lila still avoided her grandmother. Petunia hated this, angry at the fact that Lila’s magical abilities were already pushing them apart, but she made no effort to repair the relationship. Finally, one day, Dudley began talking to Lila over dinner.
“Sweetheart,” he said softly to his daughter, who looked up from her macaroni, “I want to tell you something.”
“Okay, dad.” She looked up at him, and Petunia noted how their twin eyes looked at each other. Lila’s with a childish curiosity, and Dudley’s with a fatherly patience.
“When I was little, your gran and I lived with my cousin. His name is Harry. He used to do the same things that you did, sometimes would disappear from thin air and would appear somewhere else. He also would sometimes make the dandelions fly, too. He’s a wizard. And that makes you a witch.”
Her eyes were wide like dinner plates, and held that same wondrous expression that her nephew had years ago, “I am? Like a magic witch? Promise?”
“Promise.” Beside Dudley, Aster looked nervous, hanging on every word between them, “And now, your uncle Harry wants to come meet you. He’ll be bringing your cousins, too. And they’re going to tell you all about the magical world. They’re coming on Saturday. How does that sound?”
Lila squealed, dancing in her chair, before hopping off to kiss her dad on the cheek, “I always wanted to meet my cousins!”
Petunia wanted to vomit. Instead, she continued eating her food stiffly, and that night, nursed a bottle of Scotch until she had enough to make her fall asleep.
+
“Blimey,” Dudley turned to his cousin, apologetic, as he had tried to open a locked door, “mum doesn’t really want to come out of her room. Lila’s still asleep but Aster’s waking her up. How about you sit in the sitting room?”
“Er, no problem.” Harry Potter nervously agreed. Behind him, all three of his children and his wife were surveying the objects present in a Muggle home. He elbowed James slightly, “Don’t gawk. You heard him, go ahead into the sitting room.”
Dudley examined his nephews and niece closely, along with his own cousin-in-law. The two boys had identical unruly hair, similar to their father, only the eldest had ginger hair and the other was jet black. The daughter, the youngest, had long red hair and couldn't have been older than 9 years old. Harry’s wife looked like the spitting image of her daughter, her eyes wandering around as she made her way to the sitting room. Looking at his own cousin, he seemed less angry and troubled like he was in their youth, even if Dudley didn’t recognize him at first.
“Tea?” He offered it to the family. They agreed, and he brought out the kettle from the etable nearby. Upstairs, a door opened. A sleepy-eyed Lila, with her hair freshly washed and wearing a lilac dress, made her way downstairs. Aster followed her down the stairs. As the young child realized who was in the sitting room, her face snapped fully awake.
“Are you my uncle Harry?” She said, dancing up and down her heels. On the couch, Harry’s entire family broke out into a big smile as they considered the girl. Whatever awkwardness the Potters had felt walking into a muggle home melted away as they took in the sight of a small witch who was just waking up to her powers.
“Yes, I am.” He said, “And this is my family.”
She walked to them and held out her hand. She’d been taught at a young age to shake people’s hand by her grandmother, “I’m Lila.”
Dudley watched them carefully as she next shook everyone else’s hand.
“I’m aunt Ginny.” Harry’s wife said, shaking the girl’s hand enthusiastically.
“My name’s James.” The elder son said.
“Albus. Call me Al.” The younger son said solemnly.
“Lily Luna. You can call me Lily, if you want.”
His daughter lit up even more, “Your name sounds like mine!”
“It does, doesn’t it?” The girl smiled, “We have pretty names.”
Next to him, Dudley’s wife sat on an armchair, less excited though still polite, “My name is Aster. It’s good to meet you.”
Lila sat down on the other armchair, “Dad says you’re a wizard. Is that true?”
Harry nodded and spoke carefully, to make sure that the girl understood everything he was saying, “We all are, actually. Al and James go to magical school.”
“What’s your job? You and Ginny?” Aster asked immediately.
“I used to be an, er, a professional athlete, you could say.” Ginny said, “But I just finished up my contract. I’m a journalist now.”
“I used to be the equivalent of a Wizarding detective.” Harry said, “Now I’m part of a new department in the government, called the Department of Wizarding Protection. I actually find Muggleborn, uh, magical folks born to non-magical folk, and help them transition to the magical world. Among other things. So this is part of my job, really.”
Aster seemed to relax a little, “So you work with children?”
Harry nodded, “It’s part of my work. Best part of the job. Kids get scared of the scars at first,” he gestured to his face, where there was a lightning scar on his forehead and scratches on his face, “but they get used to it. Lila here doesn’t seem to be scared, though.”
Lila shook her head, “They’re not scary.”
“I see, you’re a brave one, then.” He smiled, “you might take after your other family members. Here, let me tell you all about the Wizarding World.”
+
Petunia spied from her room, peering at her nephew, his unordinary family, and her own ordinary family discussing. She took a step further, and almost gasped at the sight of her nephew.
For years, she detested the fact that he looked like James. She never liked him, always thought he was arrogant. And now, Harry still looked like his spitting image. What she never expected was how he began to look more like Lily.
His hair has always been jet black. Yet as the sun shone on him, his hair looked distinguishingly red at the tips. His eyes looked the same, precisely like Lily’s, and even from afar, she could see his freckles across his face, looking similar to her sister’s during their youth when the sun shone on their faces.
And then, there were other parts to him that made him unrecognizable. When she saw him last, he was a clean-shaven, skinny teenager, wearing a hoodie and jeans. This man had a beard across his face, wearing a button-down and jacket, as if he had just come from work. Most hauntingly, there was a giant scar crossing diagonally across his face, and smaller ones across his nose. He looked literally scarred. His face was more set and firm, looking like someone who had crossed hell and back. Next to him, his wife and children were, admittedly, beautiful and charming as they spoke to her granddaughter.
Their voices were soft enough that she couldn’t distinguish everything she said. Lila’s eyes looked excitedly among all the grown-ups. And Petunia couldn’t bear to look anymore.
She barely leaves her room for the next three days. The next time she speaks to Lila, it is when she, along with her parents, are about to leave to visit the Potters. She waves, says goodbye, and drinks wine until she passes out.
And her granddaughter gets the message. She doesn’t speak to her grandmother much in the years that go by.
+
She and Aster also grow distant. Now that Aster had truly understood what it meant to be a witch, she encouraged Lila to learn all that she could. As Petunia stops spending time with her, Aster learns to use an owl to write to Ginny, who becomes a friend of hers. Meanwhile, Dudley was still kind to her, still loving her in the way that a good son did. But otherwise, it seemed like the family lived in nearly two different houses. Sometimes, the three were out of the house, having dinner with whoever. She didn’t care.
Petunia blinked twice, and suddenly, Lila turned 11. When she emerged from her room after waking up at lunch time, she found her granddaughter and her parents sitting on the couch, intently reading a letter. She sat down on an armchair nearby, though they didn’t seem to notice.
“I told you that you’d get a Hogwarts letter,” Dudley said proudly, kissing the girl top of her forehead, “They’d be stupid not to take you.”
Lila looked nervously at them, “What if I don’t like it there?”
“Then we’ll figure it out, my love.” Her mother said, “But right now, you should be excited. Uncle Harry just owled us this morning, and he wants to take us all to Diagon Alley to shop.”
The girl clapped her hands, “Finally! He told me he didn’t want to take me until I got into Hogwarts. Did I tell you that Al and Lily have a bet on what house I’d be sorted in?”
“No,” Dudley chuckled, as he reached for his lunch plate. Sometimes they liked to eat lunch in the sitting room, and that was something Petunia hated, “What did they say?”
“Al bets two Galleons for Gryffindor. Lily is betting on Ravenclaw. And you remember Fred, right?”
“George’s son?” Aster replied. Who the hell were they talking about, Petunia wondered.
“Yeah, him. He thinks I’ll be Slytherin. Which won’t happen, obviously.” She rolled her eyes, “Slytherin is fine, I don’t hate it, but I’m not cunning or whatever they call it.”
The words give Petunia an auditory vertigo, remembering how those words were thrown around in her old household when her sister once explained the Wizarding world to their family. And here, now, it was happening again, just in different colors, with other people, and it was just as painful.
She gives her granddaughter her gift, which is a knitted scarf. Lila kisses her cheek and says thank you, with a notable distance in her eyes, as if she was busy thinking about other things.
+
Lila would, in fact, get sorted into Ravenclaw. Petunia only knew this because Dudley had gotten everyone a blue and bronze sweater with the house logo on it. When he had passed one to her, she was taken aback.
“And why,” She said carefully, “would I wear this?”
Dudley looked at her as if she’d gone mad, “Because your granddaughter is a Ravenclaw and we want to represent her? For support?”
“Oh, please,” She said, sipping her tea, “this is just a secondary school thing. She’s not becoming a professional athlete.”
Her son stared at her, exasperated, and went to stand up, “You know what? Ginny’s own mother is proud of Lila, and she’s not even her grandmother. You act like your own grandchild is nothing. You watch, mum. She will resent you for it.”
She already did, Petunia thought, and she despised it.
+
When Lila was at Hogwarts, Petunia could at least pretend that life was normal. She and Aster were civil at these times, likely because the literal elephant (who took the shape of a little girl) was not in the room. She took to gardening, and as she grew older, began to spend her time reading.
“Mum, just so you know, we’re hosting a dinner outside in the backyard.”
She looked up from her book, “What’s the occasion?”
Aster raised her eyebrow, “Um...Lila just turned 14?”
At that moment, the birthday girl walked into the kitchen, still in her pajamas. And briefly, guiltily, Petunia looked closely at her. How had she not noticed that she’d reached puberty? When did she become the same height as she did, and when did she start having a bust?
When did she stop truly looking at her only grandchild? Or started forgetting her birthday?
Lila caught her eye, and she waved politely, “Good morning, gran. Are you joining us for dinner?”
Petunia was forced to join, however briefly, and she watched people file in as the sun began to set. Good god, how many people did she invite? There was an outstanding number of redheads in the backyard, along with others who greeted Lila like she was a superstar.
“There she is! The super Seeker! The reason why Ravenclaw will win the cup this year!” One older boy with vibrant blue hair called out as he swept her in a hug.
“Lila! Happy birthday! You’ve grown so tall!” Another woman said, kissing her on the cheek in greeting. Petunia wondered at the back of her head when was the last time she had done that, when she sensed someone sitting next to him. Glancing, she saw Lily’s eyes peer back at her.
“Hello, aunt Petunia,” Harry said, “you look like you are having a terrible time.”
She pursed her lips, “I’m going back to my room in a little bit.”
“And miss your granddaughter’s birthday?” He asked, his eyebrow raised. Adulthood certainly made him gain audacity.
“I’m not one for big parties.” She lied. And he knew it - how could he forget how many times she hosted dinners back when they lived in Surrey?
Harry sighed next to her, running a hand through his hair. Petunia noticed that the scar that swept across his face had somewhat healed, though it was still majorly obvious.
“Dudley has told me that you don’t speak to her much anymore.”
“I’m sure he has.”
“Look, I just want to tell you myself that Lila is one of the most incredible students that Hogwarts has ever seen.” Harry charged right through, before she could stop him, “Top of every class. She’s in line to be team captain at one of the school’s sports teams. And she started a support club for Muggleborns. Just last year, she was playing a game and she made history with the points she scored. She actually beat my dad’s record.” He chuckled.
When she didn’t answer, he continued, “That might mean nothing to you. But Lila is a really great person. She’s kind and does everything to help others. Ginny’s family loves her. And look how many friends she has, just at this party. Dudley and Aster wish you’d give her a chance.”
Petunia stood, “Good night, Harry.”
He sighed, “Good night, aunt Petunia.”
+
One year passes. Then two. Then three. Lila keeps her distance. Petunia gets older, and she gives up on dyeing her hair black every month, and the white hair takes its place. Lila grows taller, and she speaks with a commanding and encouraging tone that her mother has during protests. Dudley, in a surprise, becomes head teacher at a special needs school after teaching there for years.
On Lila’s 17th birthday, she has a celebration with her parents before she stays for three days with the Potters. Petunia gives her a stiff hug, well wishes, and a pair of luxurious earrings for a gift. This is enough, she thinks, and it’s a way to at least show her granddaughter that she loves her despite her difficulty in showing it.
And then Lila returns from her stay at the Potters, her eyes fiery and full of confrontation.
“Gran.” She said as she entered the room, “I want to show you something.”
It’s only them that was home. Dudley and Aster were at work. Petunia glanced up from her crossword and said fakely and casually, “Yes? What is it?”
Lila took out her wand, and instinctively, she froze, wondering if her granddaughter was about to hex her after years of silent resentment between them. Instead, she pointed to the air, and said, softly, “Do you trust me?”
“I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t use magic at home.”
She shook her head, “I’m breaking that agreement now. Do you trust me?”
“What are you going to do?” She failed to keep the tightness from her voice. The teenage girl didn’t answer, and instead murmured:
“Legilimens inversa.” She pointed at her.
And Petunia was suddenly in a tunnel, where dark and light battled for the center stage of her eyesight. Voices mixed around each other, words swallowing one another, until Petunia felt the world finally come to a pause.
She looked up, and realized she was sitting on a hill that looked unfamiliar. In front of her are Harry, his three children, and Lila sitting on the grass with her. Lila couldn’t have been more than 12 years old. This, Petunia realized, was a memory.
“Uncle Harry?”
“Yes, Lila?” Harry looked up from a book. Beside him, his two sons were playing a game that looked like chess, and his daughter laid on the grass with a book of her own.
“Why does gran hate me?”
Just then, all three children met eyes, as if they all knew the answer. Harry, too, paused, before replying:
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“But why can’t she look at me anymore? I can’t remember the last time she told me she loved me.” That gave Petunia a punch in the gut.
Harry closed his book, “It’s...complicated. But you have to know, it’s not your fault.”
The scene changes, the colors blotting, the voices changing, and suddenly, she is in a place that is all too familiar. One that makes her want to throw up. In this memory, Lila is 14, with one of Harry’s sons.
“So this…” Lila murmured, staring down at the grave, “This is where…”
“Yeah.” The son - Albus? - responded.
“Why did Uncle Harry never take me here?” She asked, “It just seems like such an important place to him.”
“He still gets nightmares about this place,” Albus responded, “so he avoids coming here. We only come on Halloween.”
Lila nodded, sitting down on the ground.
“I just...I didn’t know Uncle Harry’s mum’s name was the same as Lily’s. Or that it was so close to mine. Albus, who buried them?”
“Your gran did.”
“My gran?”
“Yeah. Look, I’m not really allowed to say this. Dad wanted to wait till you turned 17, when he and uncle Dudley could tell you together. But you just need to know that your gran and her sister were pretty much estranged. And then she had to take my dad in, and raise him. And, well, you know the rest.”
“Aunt Ginny said she was a nightmare. That she’d abuse uncle Harry. My gran is a nightmare.” Lila looked mournful.
“It’s much more than that, I think.” Albus said, “I know how much you love her, and how hard it was for you to grow apart. So maybe, when the time comes, you’ll have to ask her. Just try to get her side.”
“She won’t even look at me.” Lila sighed, standing up, “Come on, let’s go. Standing here in this place makes me sad. Rest in peace, Lily and James.” She whispered at the grave, before gripping Al’s shoulder.
The scene changes one more time, and this time, Petunia sees her granddaughter, now looking older, peer up at a portrait, close to screaming.
“All these years, you let her believe that she had no magical powers. You turned her away when she wrote to you. And then never reached out again. How could you? How could you leave that detail out of the story?”
“She was not ready to know.” Albus Dumbledore in the painting said, “I don’t think she will ever be ready to know.”
“You’re a crackpot old fool.” Lila said, crumpling her hands into fists, sounding much like Vernon in that moment, “Could you imagine what this means, if you had let her come to Hogwarts? Or what all of this means? That means there are Muggles, in this world, who aren’t fully capable of magic, but have skills to learn! That we could teach them to grow their powers over time! Or that it blurs the lines between magic and Muggle. You’re a fucking idiot, Dumbledore. You...you ruined everything!”
And the scene changes, rapidly, again and again. Petunia sees herself again, through Lila’s eyes now. Petunia absentmindedly making a spoon twitch while drinking coffee, as if it was close to moving. Petunia inadvertently closing the blinds without even moving. Small moments where things move on their own, without control, and Lila watches her with wide eyes in every iteration of the memory.
She was back in the present, looking at her 17-year-old granddaughter.
Lila exhaled, visibly trembling, “Dumbledore made everyone believe all these years that you had no magic powers. That was a lie. He said it was your sister’s love that protected uncle Harry. That’s true. But he never said that your love for my dad had also protected him wherever you went. That’s why dad had been attacked by a dementor, it’s because you weren’t there. And by extension, you protected uncle Harry.”
Petunia was stunned.
“Gran,” Lila was crying now, “I missed you, all these years. I wanted to hate you. I can’t do it. Please, please, just give me a chance. I promise you that magic isn’t evil. I can show you how everything works. You can’t go to Hogwarts, but maybe you can learn even a little bit. You can understand your powers and I can tell you why you were able to protect my dad. I can show you everything. If you’d let me.”
And Petunia, one more time, saw her granddaughter throughout the years: in her infancy, when she’d cry until the sunrise. As a toddler, when she sang ABC for the first time. As a girl, who would always finish her math homework on time. As a teenager, popping her pimples even after her mother told her not to. And here, now, in that moment, as an almost-adult.
“Lila-” She opened her arms, “We can do that. But first, let me hug you.”
And they hugged, tight, and didn’t let go.
“I owe you stories,” Petunia whispered, thinking of Snape’s cruelty towards her as children, of how she buried Lily, how Vernon called her a freak, how she had worked seven days a week to pay for Dudley’s college, and how she felt she was losing her granddaughter in all these years, “I’ll tell you all of them.”