“Can a Muggle leave an indelible mark on a wizard’s life without using magic?”
“Yes. By becoming the ‘bad debt’ he can never write off.”
Without a wand or a magical bloodline, Petunia Evans, privately hired by the Hogwarts Headmaster as a “financial consultant,” is in charge of:
Honeydukes’ candy procurement accounts and the inflation rate of Sherbet Lemons; the Whomping Willow’s annual repair costs and damage assessments for Peeves’ pranks;
And... keeping a record of every lie the white-haired old man tells that begins with “This is the last time.”
She loved him all her life, but it wasn’t romantic love.
Love needs an answering voice, while hers was a universe unto itself.
Like a planet orbiting a star, never asking to fall, content to let his light define the course of her life.
“Dear Professor Dumbledore: What is the wizarding world like? Could I... go there? Petunia Evans, 1971”
Half a century later, in an old house in Godric’s Hollow, two portraits hang quietly side by side. A line of tiny writing is engraved along their frames:
“Accounts receivable: eleven unsent letters.
Accounts payable: an entire life without magic, yet full of miracles.
Balance: eternity.”
It turned out he had answered long ago, writing it in a lifetime of silence:
“You are too precious. I cannot love you by the rules of the wizarding world.
So I invented a set of rules just for you:
You may leave your fingerprints in my castle, but they must be hidden in the ink of the ledgers;
You may call me Grandfather, but only after all the wars are over;
You may claim eternity, but your title can only be ‘financial consultant.’”
