Full name: Petunia
Dursley née Evans Evans
Date of birth: December 18, 1958
Affiliation: Scotland Yard Special Division, Witchfinder (eventually)
Home Life Edit
Mother: Albert Evans
Father: Eileen Evans (née Anthony)
Siblings: Lily Evans (deceased)
Husband Ex-husband Vernon Dursley, son Dudley Dursley (born June 22 1980), nephew Harry Potter
Relationships with each: Petunia has basically abandoned Dudley and his father to their fate. After Dudley’s indictment and run-in with the CPS, the marital strain proved too much for Vernon and Petunia, and she was the one who finally called it quits.
Home: Living with her nephew while she fights a legal battle with her husband
Finances: To be seen, really. Divorce settlements and whatnot.
Personal Life Edit
Personality: Still trying to maintain that prim and proper outlook, Petunia has slowly been coming to terms with herself. She’s coming to realize what an intelligent, individual thinker she is—or was. She’s trying to regain a footing in the culture of London and the world, attempting to go back to the way her life had been when she attended college. She has taken to quite the serious affect recently, considering recent events.
Marital Status: Divorced
Sexual Orientation: …what seriously?
Strengths: open to new ideas, caring, pensive
Weaknesses: unaware, naïve about love, prejudiced
Boggart: Dementor, particularly after seeing how they affected Dudley
Mirror of Erised: Herself, married to a handsome intellectual. No kids. Frequent trips to Paris.
Amortentia Potion: coffee, aftershave
Appearance: Brown hair, somewhat mousy. Bony, with a longer face and long neck. Hawkish nose. Avoids much make-up (thinks it makes those who look old somewhat tacky). Allows what wrinkles and lines she has to show through. Ever-so-slight curve in the spine. Height: 5’8” (1.73m)
Weight: 68kg (about 150 lbs)
Style of dress: Varies. Tries to look a bit younger, but doesn’t honestly put a whole hell-of-a-lot of time into her appearance. Went through a floral phase, to be sure. Is not big on spending a whole lot of money on clothes.
And so with a farewell to Potter, the Dursleys left Privet Drive in the company of Aurors. Their safe trip went off without a hitch, and there they were, living out the war in an unknown location (the Ministry thought it prudent to keep it from them). Petunia was finding it more and more necessary to cooperate and communicate with the wizards that came to check up on them (much to the chagrin of her husband and the indifference of her son), and through them she would keep up with whatever little news of Harry she could find.
In isolation and relative solitude, Petunia often found herself thinking of various things, the least of which was her nephew. And what was this bizarre affection that welled up so suddenly, she often wondered, at the last possible moment? When it was so likely that she would never see him again? And one day it hit her: the end of Harry was the end of her sister. And despite the animosity she felt towards Lily (which, she realized, was misplaced jealousy), the idea that any remnant of her sister could merely be obliterated by some evil Wizard alarmed her to the point where she realized just how important it was to her that Harry keep on living. For Lily’s sake.
This revelation startled her, and it was something she found herself forced to keep quiet. Yet as such, her relationship with Vernon grew increasingly unbearable. Without his daily trips to work, she found the rotund man quite unbearable. His opinions were hogwash, and even worse, he had little evidence to back them up. Where had she retreated to? Perhaps Lily’s marriage to James had caused her to settle too soon. Worse, maybe she was in love with the idea of being in love with Vernon… yet she was never really in love with him. What was there to love? His temper? Perhaps merely his financial situation and guarantee of stability. Though was there anything stable about them now?
With all this thought, it was inevitable that Petunia Dursley would sit down one day in their small cottage and realize just how unhappy she was. She missed Privet Drive. She missed the intelligence of her youth. She missed… quite a few things, frankly, and she realized she couldn’t get them from her husband. At least she had Dudley, though. Yes, Dudley would provide the glue and solidity to the marriage that she found herself increasingly dissatisfied with. Dudley.
It was with this in mind that Petunia continued her life after the war. She stuck with Vernon so that Dudley would get his feet off the ground and discover what a true marriage with life. She pretended to be happy, nearly convincing herself that this was all she wanted. She cleaned the house and weeded the garden and played bingo with the other old women whose children were off doing god-knows-what.
If only she had paid more attention to her son. Dudley’s strength, once thought to be his greatest asset, would work against him. She was not worried that he didn’t go to uni; she had always known that he wasn’t nearly as smart as his cousin, and perhaps that was part of the reason that she treated the two so differently. Yet without university to occupy him, Dudley took an entry-level position in Vernon’s company, living out his days largely unhappily and spending most of his free time in the gym or at bars. He was young and restless, Petunia knew, and she had no worries that eventually he would settle down as his parents had. They had all gone through that phase, as distant and unimaginable as it might have been.
However, Dudley’s crime was the final breaking point. Sexual assault? Her son? At first, she denied it vehemently, allowing her husband’s words to protect her son while she merely sat in the background, astonished by this sudden turn of events. But she grew less and less sure with each passing day. And the pictures of the poor, bruised woman terrorized her. Vernon attempted to reassure her, but his defences wearied her, his words full of a casuistry that quickened her heart rather than setting it at ease. His biggest point was that Dudley was drunk and unaware. He could not be a monster. There was simply no way.
But she knew better. And with no common enemy (neither of them had heard from Harry in years, much less spoken his name or thought about him) or naivety about their son to hold them together, Petunia and Vernon fell apart. She forced him to sign the papers and a bid him a teary farewell. She could not bear to see Dudley, certainly not after the BBC interview with the poor girl, who was traumatized and emotionally scarred. He was a monster.
And that brought her to now, she realized, as she stood in front of the door to her nephew’s flat. His reappearance in their life had been well-timed; perhaps there was some divine Providence guiding their hands after all. She hoped to think so. Perhaps making amends would not be as unlikely as a possibility after all. She moved her hand to the doorbell.
Current Activities Edit
Divorcing Vernon Dursley
PB: Fiona Shaw