It was a scorching end-of-summer day when August 10th rolled around.
It was particularly noticeable because there was a man in an obscene amount of robes standing outside Petunia’s building when she came home from brunch.
His robes were a bright cherry red with constellations made up of silver stars emblazoned on the fabric. His long white beard betrayed who he was. A young Petunia had written to him in desperation.
Petunia glanced around, watching as the people of New York avoided eye contact with the flamboyant man. A smile danced across her lips, it was a sadistic thing.
She walked right by Dumbledore and continued past her building. She was noticeably different than the old Petunia —from the way she carried herself to her very body. Her glamors had grown quite powerful over the years, and New York was filled with surgeons with hands graced by God himself.
Besides, the boys were already inside the warded building. It was not a problem yet, but if the man stuck around, it might become a nuisance.
----------------------------------------
It was a nuisance.
Petunia had gone out to lunch, after-lunch drinks, appetizers, dinner, and after-dinner drinks, and the man was still there. And she’d dropped by between each one to check —he hadn’t left all day.
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Straightening her back and focusing her mind, Petunia decided she wouldn’t be avoiding her home any longer. She wanted to make sure the boys were ready to go to Salem in a few days. They’d wanted to have a chance to explore ahead of time, so they all were taking a trip to the city before the semester started. Well, Ursula had opted to stay home and hold down the fort —and Petunia wouldn’t begrudge her that, so she’d invited Lloyd and Lyla. Only Lloyd could make it. Perks of being the head of his department.
Petunia strode past the entrance but froze when Dumbledore spoke loud enough for her to hear.
“Ms. Evans?” He called.
Petunia turned on her heel and greeted him with a nod, “High Warlock, Chief Mugwump, or whatever.”
“Ah, so you know who I am,” He smiled lightly, a twinkle in his eyes. She felt it, then, the assault on her occlumency shields. It was a delicate thing, meant to find her lightly and unaware. But Petunia was anything but unaware.
“And it seems your tricks never change,” Petunia laughed, offense clear in her voice, “What are you doing here?”
“I believe we have much to discuss, my dear. May I come inside?”
“No, we don’t. And no, you can’t.” Petunia took a step back, passing the wards of the building that were keeping the man outside.
“Now, now, I’ve traveled all the way from the Boston immigration point and apparated here to see you and Harry.”
Petunia sighed, “Then you’ve come in vain. Your lackey is still in holding, and I would rather you not see my boy.”
“Well, really, it’s up to whoever cast these wards.” Dumbledore said, his voice mysterious, “And I’m sure whoever it is would be more than willing to chat with me.”
Petunia blinked, then blinked again.
And then she laughed. Cold and harsh.
“Oh, so you don’t know.”