Reborn as Petunia Evans with a System-Chapter 50 - 48

Severus

The summer vacation was... surprisingly pleasant. After everything that had happened the Quidditch match, the House Cup, the whirlwind end of term I had expected the long weeks away from Hogwarts to feel like a dull ache. But instead, my grandparents swept me and Mother off to Italy for a fortnight. And it was, in all honesty, rather lovely.

I liked the weather there. Warm, dry, a gentle sun that didn't cling to the skin like the damp English clouds did. We stayed in a modest but charming villa outside Florence, nestled on a hill lined with cypress trees. I read in the gardens. I drank espresso, even though Grandmother said it would stunt my growth. I sketched potion diagrams on the veranda and wrote letters to Petunia.

Petunia,

Italy is better than I imagined. My grandparents are obsessed with lemon everything now gelato, pasta, cake. I bought something for you and Lily, a little gift. I hope you like it. And the potion we were working on it's in final trials. One more week and I think we'll be ready to file for patenting. Imagine that. Our names in a textbook someday.

Sometimes I can hardly believe how far we've come. Do you remember when we first started sketching ideas ? And now... now we're doing actual work that matters. I'm proud of it. Of us.

And I miss you, terribly. It's beautiful here, but there's something incomplete without the usual sound of you humming while you work or dragging me into the black lake to look for the giant squid.

Write soon. Tell me what books you're reading. Tell me what the house smells like with your mother's summer cooking. Tell me if that pigeon is still attacking the window box outside your room.

I hope you're well. Truly.

Severus

After sealing the letter with a careful ribbon and sending it off with Leon, I tucked the gifts inside a soft silk scarf for Lily with a floral vine pattern and for Petunia, a delicate bracelet strung with moonstone beads, enchanted to shimmer faintly in moonlight.

Then I returned to my room, intent on studying until dinner. That is, until our house elf Hokey appeared at the door.

"Master Severus, madam says you is to come down now. Dinner is served. And formal, sir. Madam says wear the navy."

I sighed and stood, brushing off my trousers. Formal meant something serious. Or someone important.

I descended the stairs slowly. From the landing, I could hear voices my grandfather's low and firm, my grandmother's tinkling laugh. And someone else. A man's voice I didn't recognize.

When I entered the dining room, I halted.

There, standing at the end of the table, was a tall man in finely tailored black robes. His hair was black as coal, combed neatly back, and his eyes were a warm brown. He had the kind of face that made you pause something familiar about the cheekbones, the slightly arched brows.

Mother stood beside him, her hair swept into a flawless chignon, wearing deep green silk and a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Severus," she said warmly. "Come, darling. I'd like you to meet someone."

The man turned fully then, and his expression softened. A faint, almost reluctant smile touched his lips.

"This is Alphard Black."

I froze. "Black?"

I looked from him to my mother, then back. Alphard Black. The name echoed oddly in my mind. Black. As in Sirius Black?

He nodded at me with an air of practiced politeness. "You must be Severus. I've heard... quite a lot about you."

I looked at him carefully, noting the slight arch of his brow, the cut of his jaw. There was something about him some resemblance I couldn't quite shake.

I cleared my throat. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Black."

Before the tension could grow unbearable, Grandfather clapped his hands together. "Let's eat first, shall we? Save the catching up for after the first course."

We all sat. Hokey served the soup chilled cucumber and mint with a swirl of cream. I listened as the adults made small talk. I only offered short replies when addressed, keeping my attention mostly on my spoon.

"So," Grandfather said after a few minutes, turning to Alphard, "what exactly is it you do these days at the Ministry? Eileen's only said you were high up in your Department."

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"I oversee the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Alphard replied smoothly. "We manage treaties, embassies, joint research, that sort of thing. I travel often Rome, Istanbul, Cairo. "

"Ah," Grandfather nodded. "Important work. Bet it's no small feat managing all those egos."

Alphard gave a wry chuckle. "Diplomats are easier than my relatives, I assure you."

Grandmother leaned forward slightly, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "It's nice, though, that the two of you have reconnected. You and Eileen were close at school, weren't you?"

My spoon paused halfway to my mouth.

Alphard's gaze flicked toward my mother. Hers remained composed, one hand resting on the rim of her wineglass.

"Yes," Alphard said slowly. "We... knew each other at Hogwarts. We met again at a Ministry function. I suppose time does strange things."

"You've lost your parents, haven't you?" Grandmother asked gently. "I heard about it from the Prophet."

Alphard nodded. "Yes. Recently."

There was a pause. He didn't elaborate, and no one asked. He didn't sound particularly mournful either. More like someone stating a fact long since settled.

Eventually, the conversation circled back to me.

"So," Alphard said, turning to me once more, "you're heading into your third year at Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"Your mother mentioned you play Quidditch."

"I'm a Seeker," I said.

His eyes warmed just a little. "So was I. For Slytherin. It's a challenging position."

"It suits me," I replied. "Strategy over brute force."

"Exactly," he said, with a nod of approval. "You have to wait for the right moment. The temptation to rush in is strong, but the clever ones know better."

We talked a bit more about broom types and Quidditch maneuvers. To my surprise, I didn't mind it. He wasn't like most adults he didn't condescend. He listened, even if a little stiffly, and I could tell he actually knew what he was talking about.

I glanced once at my mother during the conversation. Her gaze wasn't on the food or the platesit was on us. A soft, wistful look rested on her face. Not sad, but thoughtful. Pensive. Like she was watching a memory she had hoped for but never thought she'd see.

Grandmother broke the moment. "Hokey, dessert please!"

The elf bowed and popped away, returning moments later with a silver tray floating behind her.

"We've all become obsessed with lemons since Italy," Grandmother said proudly as she conjured a delicate silver tray from the sideboard. "So tonight lemon sabayon tart with candied peel and a lavender honey glaze."

The tart shimmered faintly under the dining room's chandelier, golden meringue peaks toasted just so. The scent of citrus and sugar filled the air like a spell of summer.

She began serving slices around the table, humming softly.

But when she reached me, she didn't pause.

Instead, she set down a different dish entirely a scoop of chocolate gelato in a cut-crystal bowl, topped with a thin curl of salted caramel and a dusting of cocoa.

"There you are, Severus," she said, with a kind smile. "Chocolate, just like you prefer. No lemon, of course."

"Thank you," I said, automatically.

"None for me, thank you," said Alphard, lifting a hand as his tart approached. "I'm afraid I'm allergic to lemon."

Grandmother blinked, mid-gesture. "Oh! Oh, goodness I'm so sorry, dear, I didn't realize."

He waved it off. "No harm done. It's... an old allergy. Runs in the family."

Something in the room shifted.

I looked up from my gelato. The silver spoon hovered in my hand.

My mother was very still.

"Severus is the same, aren't you?" Grandfather said lightly, as though it were a coincidence. "Had to rush him to St. Mungo's once after he accidentally drank orange squash. Broke out in hives in under a minute."

"Chocolate's better anyway," Grandmother said, sliding the remaining tart away and settling beside me with her own plate. "Far safer for both of you, apparently."

I stared at Alphard Black.

His fingers were long and fine-boned. His voice even. His expression unreadable.

I took a slow bite of the gelato. Cold, smooth, and sweet. Comforting in a way that didn't comfort at all.

Across the table, Alphard's eyes met my mother eyes .

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