Reborn as Petunia Evans with a System

A week after our visit to Prince Manor, a letter arrived from Severus, tied neatly with black silk ribbon. The parchment was thick and slightly scented with something herbal likely a trace of the potion we had brewed.

Dearest Petunia,

The first trial has concluded, and I am pleased to report a positive result. The subject Mr. Flint retained full consciousness throughout his transformation and reported significantly less pain and disorientation. Grandfather believes the extract's stability is holding. We'll begin the second phase soon. Six more months, and we may have something viable.

Thank you again for your part in this. I could not have done it without you.

Yours, Severus.

I had written back immediately, But time, as always, rushed forward. Days passed in a flurry of board games, winter meals, and rereading every novel I'd brought home. Before long, it was time to return to Hogwarts.

The morning of our departure dawned cold and clear. I packed my trunk carefully, folding my scarves and robes with slow precision. When I zipped it shut, I paused for a long moment, my hand resting atop the worn leather handle. It felt like something had changed over the holidays something quiet and permanent, like ice melting into a river.

I carried my trunk downstairs. Dad met me at the foot of the stairs and took it from me with a wink.

"Let me do the heavy lifting, love."

Lily followed a moment later, yawning and dragging her own case behind her. Mum was already in the kitchen, fretting over a packed lunch she'd made for the train ride. "Have you packed your toothbrushes? Socks? Clean robes? No ink leaking from your quills this time?"

"We're good, Mum," I said, trading a grin with Lily.

Outside, the car was already warming. Dad loaded our trunks into the car, and soon we were off, the house shrinking in the rearview mirror as we drove toward King's Cross. The windows fogged slightly with each breath, and the sky was painted in those early shades of January grey-blue.

At the station, everything moved quickly just like it always did.

We hugged our parents goodbye near the barrier, the familiar wall between platforms 9 and 10 looming before us. Mum smoothed my coat like she always did, even though I'd long since stopped needing it. Dad clapped both our shoulders and said, "Write us, alright?"

"We will," Lily promised.

As we turned to run through the barrier, I glanced around the station and then froze.

There, near a polished column, stood Walburga Black.

Elegant in fur-trimmed robes of deep charcoal, her sharp features locked in a permanent scowl. Beside her were her sons. Sirius looked as wild and unwilling as a caged wolf. His grey eyes flitted over the crowd, almost bored. Next to him, Regulus stood stiffly, eyes downcast, as though wishing to disappear.

I recognized the sharp curve of Sirius's mouth, the tension in his shoulders. That was not the Sirius Black we knew at school the one with biting quips and crooked smiles. That Sirius was gone. In his place stood a boy who had to pretend.

Lily nudged me. "Come on. Let's get on the train."

I turned away and followed her, but the image stayed with me.

We passed through the barrier in a blur of red and gold. The scarlet steam engine loomed before us, already whistling softly. We hurried along the train, glancing into compartments. At last, we spotted Severus waving from one near the back. I called out and ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck.

He stiffened for half a second and then hugged me back tightly.

"You saw me just last week," he murmured with a dry laugh.

I grinned. "And what a long week it's been."

Lily rolled her eyes but smiled fondly as we shuffled into the compartment. The three of us sank into the plush seats, the door shutting behind us with a satisfying click.

The train gave a jolt and began to move.

Conversation flowed easily. We talked about our holidays, the potion trial and anything under the sun.

That's when the compartment door slid open.

We all turned.

And I sighed.

There, standing like a band of overconfident mischief, were James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. James had already changed into his school robes, slightly askew as always. Sirius had that maddening smirk, and Remus looked unsurprisingly apologetic.

Peter just hovered awkwardly behind them.

"Well, well," James said, leaning on the doorframe. "Fancy seeing you three here."

"What are you doing here?" I asked flatly.

Remus held up his hands. "The train's full. Can we sit here? We won't cause trouble, I swear."

I opened my mouth to say no, but Sirius had already plopped himself down beside me . James followed suit, sliding in beside Severus, while Remus and Peter wedged themselves opposite lily.

I sighed again and looked to Severus, half-expecting a reaction. But he merely shrugged, calm and unreadable.

"They can stay," Lily said cautiously. "As long as no one starts a row."

James placed a hand to his chest, mock-offended. "Us? Row? Perish the thought."

"I can behave," Sirius added, grinning like a cat who had no intention of doing so.

Remus gave me a small, sheepish smile. I nodded back, just a little.

It was awkward at first.

But slowly, the tension began to ease. A few jokes were exchanged. Lily rolled her eyes dramatically at Sirius and James antics, and Remus politely asked about the books she'd received for Christmas. Even Peter managed a chuckle or two.

Then strangely James turned to Severus.

"So," he said, "did you catch the final between Heidelberg and Holyhead? I heard it went into double overtime."

Severus blinked. "You follow German league matches?"

"Course I do," James said, suddenly animated. "It's not all about the Cannons, you know. That Beater from Holyhead what's her name? Matilde Greenridge she knocked a Quaffle out mid-air with a backhand swing."

Severus's brow lifted, intrigued despite himself. "That was Greenridge? I thought it was their Keeper Axel Vostrikov."

"Vostrikov was out. Broken wrist. Greenridge subbed in."

"They should've lost without Vostrikov," Severus said, leaning forward slightly. "he controls the pitch."

"Exactly!" James exclaimed. "But Greenridge held it together. Caught the Quaffle with a bludger still in play. Unreal reflexes."

The two of them launched into a surprisingly civil dare I say enthusiastic discussion about team dynamics, Quidditch stats, and old rivalries. I watched, half in shock, as Severus debated James on Quidditch formations and aerial strategies, his eyes shining in a way I hadn't seen around the Marauders before.

James, to his credit, didn't interrupt or mock. He actually listened.

Even Sirius looked vaguely impressed.

Lily leaned toward me, whispering, "Is this real? Are they talking like people?"

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"Miracles do happen," I whispered back.

The rest of the train ride passed in a blur of Quidditch analysis, mild jokes, and even one round of Chocolate Frog card trading. It wasn't perfect there were still snide remarks here and there

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