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Until one Sunday, everything changed. Petunia seemed out of sorts, her usual stoic demeanor replaced by a mix of excitement and fear. "Get dressed, Harry," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "We are going out." Harry, puzzled by her sudden change of behavior, complied without question.
Harry paused, unsure of what to make of this sudden change. He dressed quickly, choosing his best yet simple clothes. Descending the stairs, he found Petunia waiting, dressed more neatly than he had ever seen her. Her attire was not flamboyant but elegantly simple. Her red hair, reminiscent of his mother's, and green eyes, akin to his own, gave her an air of elegance he hadn't noticed before. Since Vernon's departure, Petunia had been more attentive to her diet and fitness, and it showed in her athletic physique. Harry couldn't help but acknowledge her beauty, a quality overshadowed by years of stern expressions and sharp words.
As they prepared to leave, Petunia reached out and took Harry's hand, a gesture so foreign and unexpected that it sent a wave of warmth through Harry's body. The unfamiliar sensation of her touch sparked a flurry of emotions within him. He looked up at her, seeing her in a new light, almost as if he was glimpsing the young woman she once was before life had hardened her.
Their destination remained a mystery as they walked in silence. Harry's mind raced with possibilities. Could she be taking him to Diagon Alley? Or somewhere else entirely? The uncertainty kept him on edge, his thoughts oscillating between hope and caution.
As they walked, Nigel's voice resonated in Harry's mind, laced with its usual blend of sarcasm and insight. "Ah, Master Harry, it seems we're embarking on a most unexpected journey. One wonders what has spurred dear Aunt Petunia into such a surprising action."
Harry, maintaining his composure, replied silently, "I've been working on her, Nigel. Maybe it's paying off. Or maybe it's a trap."
"A valid concern," Nigel chimed in. "But remember, every step in this dance of manipulation is a gamble. Be prepared to adapt as the music changes."
Their walk led them through the familiar streets of Little Whinging, Petunia's grip on Harry's hand unwavering. It was a surreal experience for Harry, walking side by side with his aunt, who had always maintained a strict boundary of indifference and often hostility towards him.
Finally, Petunia broke the silence. "Harry, what I'm about to show you is something I've kept buried for a long time. It's... it's part of your mother's world."
Harry's heart skipped a beat at her words. This was it, the moment he had been strategically working towards. He had to tread carefully, to ensure that whatever revelation Petunia was about to share didn't close the door he had been slowly prying open.
Soon they arrived at a bus stop, the very one Harry had become familiar with in recent weeks. They boarded the bus in silence, traveling towards London, each lost in their own thoughts. The journey was quiet, the air thick with unspoken anticipation.
As they arrived in London, Petunia led Harry through the bustling streets with a purposeful stride that he had rarely seen from her. Eventually, they stood before The Leaky Cauldron, its old, unassuming exterior blending seamlessly into the surrounding buildings.
Looking at the pub, Petunia sighed deeply, a sound so laden with emotion that it seemed to carry the weight of years. Clutching Harry's hand tightly, she stepped forward and entered the pub.
Harry's heart pounded in his chest. He had often asked Tom, the owner, to open the path to Diagon Alley for him. If Tom recognized him, it could unravel the careful narrative he had woven for his aunt. But, to his utter surprise and relief, Tom was too preoccupied with ogling Petunia to notice Harry. When Petunia requested, "Can you be a gentleman and open the path please? I have business in Diagon Alley," Tom nodded fervently and obliged, waving his wand to reveal the hidden passage.
As they walked through the magically concealed brick wall, Petunia inhaled deeply, taking in the sights and smells of the bustling magical street. "I missed this," she muttered, more to herself than to Harry, but he heard every word.
Harry, his mind racing, knew he had to tread carefully. This was unfamiliar territory, a delicate dance of reality and deception where one misstep could shatter the fragile bond he was building with his aunt.
At the same time, Nigel reported in Harry's mind, "Quest: Magical Bonding Completed. Objective: Convince Aunt Petunia to accompany you to Diagon Alley. Rewards: 30 points. Unlocks Technology System Virtual Potion Crafting Room." Harry felt a surge of excitement at the completion of the quest but knew this was not the moment to focus on his rewards. Petunia's emotional state and their delicate situation in Diagon Alley were his immediate priorities.
Petunia, seemingly drawn by a sense of nostalgia, led Harry directly to Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. She was visibly moved, a mix of joy and sadness in her eyes as they sat down at a small table. "I used to come here with Lily," she said softly, a faraway look in her eyes. "She loved the chocolate raspberry swirl."
Harry watched her closely, sensing the depth of her emotions. He knew he had to approach the subject of magic carefully, weaving his narrative to make her resonate with the magical world rather than recoil from it. "Aunt Petunia," he began tentatively, "do you ever wonder what it would have been like if things were different? If you had been part of this world too?"
Petunia's expression hardened slightly, the mention of her exclusion from the magical world a sore subject. "I've spent years trying to forget all this, Harry. It's not a world for me. I chose a different path."
Harry nodded, understanding the delicate balance he had to maintain. He chose his next words with care, aiming to appeal to her sense of loss and curiosity. "But don't you think it's fascinating, Aunt Petunia? All these wonders, this magic, it's part of our family's history. It's part of you too, in a way."
This was a gamble, one that even made Nigel question whether Harry was truly a child or not. Since discovering that accessing his Potter Vault would immediately alert Dumbledore, Harry had been cautious. His plan now hinged on the possibility that Lily might have had her own account, separate from the Potter wealth. Access to his family's resources was crucial, but he couldn't risk Dumbledore's involvement. In his mind, he formulated a plan, one that hinged on Petunia's connection to Lily.
As they sat in Florean Fortescue's, Harry's mind raced with strategies. He needed to tread carefully, weaving his words to create a sense of shared history and loss. "Aunt Petunia," Harry began, his tone gentle, "I can't help but wonder about Mum's world. It's part of our family history, isn't it? And maybe, just maybe, there's more to it than we know."
Harry didn't know if Evans family had wizard lineage, but he didn't have to. All he had to do was to convience Petunia enough to make her doubt. That was enough.
Petunia glanced at Harry, her eyes reflecting a mix of intrigue and discomfort. "Are you implying that Lily might not have been the only one with magical blood in our family?" Harry, recognizing the critical juncture of their conversation, leaned in, his voice a mix of earnestness and calculated innocence.
"Exactly, Aunt Petunia. The owner of that little shop spoke of squibs - those born into magical families but without magical abilities themselves. They sometimes leave the wizarding world to live among Muggles. It's possible that our family's history with magic goes further back than we thought."
Petunia's reaction to the term 'squib' was almost visceral, a subtle cringe at the label that might apply to her. If Harry's theory held any truth, it would mean that she, too, was part of the magical lineage, albeit in a non-magical capacity. This revelation seemed to unsettle her, challenging her long-held perception of her place in the world.
Nigel, observing the conversation with his trademark analytical detachment, whispered in Harry's mind, "Careful now, Master Harry. You're treading on delicate ground. The idea of being a squib might not sit well with her. It's akin to being an outcast in both worlds."
Harry nodded inwardly at Nigel's advice, aware of the sensitivity of the topic. "I mean, Aunt Petunia, it doesn't change who we are," he said cautiously. "But it might help us understand our family's story a bit better. And who knows? Maybe there's something in this world that could help us in our own."
Petunia, lost in thought, slowly stirred her tea, her mind evidently grappling with the implications. "I suppose there's no harm in learning a bit more," she conceded after a long pause. "But Harry, we must be cautious. This world... it's not like ours. There are dangers we might not understand."
Harry, sensing her growing acceptance, felt a spark of hope. "I agree, Aunt Petunia. We'll be careful. I just... I feel like there's a part of Mum's life that I want to connect with. And maybe, in some way, it's a part of us too."
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