Dumbledore stood there for a second, before softening his eyes, “What do I not know, Ms. Evans?”

Petunia just shook her head, “You’ll figure it out. You’re a smart man.”

And then she waved and turned around.

“He should attend Hogwarts, it’s for the best.”

Petunia was going to let it go, she was. That was the plan. Let him say whatever he wanted, and then tell him to go.

But then he had to go and say it was for the best that she put one of her boys in danger. Danger that would only get worse as time went on.

So she whipped around, stepping back to the edge of the wards —but not crossing them, because you never knew what a Wixen would do.

“How dare you.” She hissed, fury taking over her rational thought, “How dare you imply my child should be anywhere that I cannot get to him.”

At that, it was Dumbledore's turn to blink. Because was this the same woman who called her sister a freak and refused to speak to her for years until right before Lily died?

“Harry isn’t yours, though, is he?” He said, and Petunia whipped out her wand, causing his eyes to widen in shock.

“He is my boy. Just as my own son is my boy. So you better apparate yourself back to Boston before I call in every favor I’ve got to make sure you haven’t got a chance to see your Boy Who Lived until after your little castle crumbles under the weight of your own failure.”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Then she spit out words Dumbledore had never expected, “Expecto Patronum!”

A fully material patronus oozed out of Petunia’s wand, an over large viper materializing.

“To Lloyd. Tell him there’s trouble. A man is stalking my son.”

The snake was off in less that a breath and Petunia was back to staring at Dumbledore, disdain in every facet of her face, “Do you know how I power my patronus?”

“I—“

“I think of my family. My two boys. I think of the first time I held them both and they fell asleep in my arms. I think of the first time they hopped on learner brooms, or played soccer. I think of when they called me mom for the first time.”

She spoke without regard for her surroundings, without moderating her pitch or her tone. She was angry and so she was uncomposed.

“So, don’t you dare tell me my sons, either of them, are better off anywhere that I don’t approve of. Good day.”

And then she really did storm off, all the way up to the top of their building, where Ursa and the boys were waiting for her.

As she stepped through her doorway, she felt the first of many assaults on the wards. But she knew they would hold —they were tied to her life force, after all. So long as she was still standing, so too would the wards.

“Boys! Dud! Harry!” Petunia called as she stepped past her foyer and into the main penthouse.

Within a moment both boys, soft in all the right places and healthy, appeared.

Petunia grabbed them both in a hug and nuzzled them, saying “my boys” gentler than she often was.

“Mom?” Dud asked first.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked second.

“I’m fine, I just love you two.”

With exasperated fondness, the two boys let themselves be coddled for several more minutes.