Reborn as Petunia Evans with a System Chapter 77 - 75

Regulus

Grimmauld Place was stifling as ever during Yule heavy curtains drawn tight, the air thick with dust and Mother’s constant muttering sowhere in the distance. I had taken refuge in the drawing room, perched lazily in a chair near the fire with a book on my lap, when Sirius appeared.

He looked unusually restless, pacing with quill and parchnt in hand. I raised an eyebrow, watching as he flung himself into the armchair opposite , scowling down at the blank sheet before him.

For several minutes, the only sounds were the scratching of his quill, then the violent tearing of parchnt as he cursed under his breath. Crumpled letters piled up at his feet, joining the growing evidence of his frustration.

That was odd enough Sirius, writing letters? but what really caught my attention was the box set on the side table next to him. It was wrapped in silver-and-green paper, surprisingly neat for soone with his careless hands, tied with a simple ribbon.

I closed my book. "What are you doing?"

"Writing a letter," Sirius muttered without looking up, his tone sharp.

"To whom?" I asked smoothly.

He glared at , grey eyes flashing. "None of your business, Regulus. Stop being nosy."

Of course, that only encouraged . My gaze drifted toward the parchnt he had just tossed to the floor. With deliberate slowness, I leaned over, picked it up, and smoothed it open before he could stop .

"Regulus—" Sirius half-rose, but I was already reading aloud, smirking at the ssy scrawl.

Dear Pet—

Happy Yule, Evans.

I know this is probably ridiculous, but I thought maybe—

Dear Petunia,

I don’t usually write letters. Well, obviously, because this one looks like absolute rubbish already. But I thought—

I thought I should tell you how much I—

I thought you might like to know that... rlin, this is idiotic. You don’t care what I think.

Still Happy Yule. I was going to give you

sothing to remind you of

Forget it. You’ll probably throw this away anyway.

You don’t even like Do you? Forget it.

I let out a low whistle. "Wow. You’re dreadful at this. I can see why you’ve torn up ten of them already."

Sirius’s face went pale, then red. He lunged forward, snatching the parchnt from my hand and crumpling it furiously. "Shut up!" he hissed, shoving it into his pocket as though that would erase it. "Leave alone, Reggie. I’m trying to focus."

"I think a simple greeting will do, you know," I drawled, leaning back against the arm of the chair.

Sirius glared at , hair falling in his eyes. "And how would you know what she likes?"

I arched a brow at him. "Well, she’s my tutor for Transfiguration. We’ve spent enough ti together that I think I’ve got a decent idea."

His eyes widened, incredulous. "Really? Why did I not know that?"

"Why do you need to know?" I replied dryly

He smirked, recovering his swagger. "Don’t be like that, Reggie. When exactly did these tutoring lessons happen?"

I looked at him, deliberately slow, then shrugged. "I’m not telling you."

"Regulus—"

But I was already heading for the door, leaving him fuming in the drawing room with nothing but his mangled love letter and his wounded pride.

As I went back to my room, the air sharp with winter chill, I noticed a snowy owl perched neatly outside my window. A small box hung from its talons, tied with a silver ribbon. I knew the bird at once it was Anna, Petunia’s owl.

I opened the window, letting her in. She swooped gracefully onto my desk, dropping the parcel with a soft clink. I stroked her feathers and offered a treat from the tin I kept by my books. Anna hooted softly, accepting it, before settling herself with regal poise.

Curious, I untied the ribbon and found a card tucked neatly inside. Her handwriting was careful, precise:

Happy Yule, Regulus

Beneath that was a short note:

When I saw this locket while shopping at Diagon Alley, I thought it would be a good gift for you.

I lifted the lid of the box. Inside, cushioned in dark velvet, was a silver locket shaped like a clock face. The design was delicate, intricate the outer casing engraved with tiny runes along its edge. When I pressed the clasp, it clicked open to reveal a miniature clock inside, its hands moving in perfect rhythm. Around the inner rim, a fine etching of constellations shimred faintly in the candlelight.

I couldn’t help but smile. I had already given her my gifts before leaving Hogwarts, the sa as Severus. Even so, the fact she had thought of during her holiday ward in a way few things did

I sat for a while, turning the locket over in my hands, watching the tiny clock hands tick forward. At last, I reached for parchnt and quill. If she had gone to the trouble of sending this to , the least I could do was answer her properly.

The words ca out simple, but honest:

Dear Petunia,

Thank you for the locket. I like it very much it’s thoughtful, and I’ll keep it close. I hope you enjoyed the gifts I gave you before we left Hogwarts. I chose them carefully, and I hope they suit you as well as this does .

Happy Yule,

Regulus

I read it over twice, resisting the urge to cross out and rewrite. Folding the letter neatly, I tied it to Anna’s leg with the sa silver ribbon she had brought. She clicked her beak softly as if in approval.

"Back to your mistress, then," I murmured, giving her one last treat. With a sweep of her wings, she took flight into the cold night sky, a pale silhouette against the drifting snow.

I lingered by the window for a mont longer, watching the faint trace of Anna vanish into the dark sky. The room was still and cold, the locket warm in my palm where I’d held it too tightly. I tucked it into the inside pocket of my robes just as a familiar rasp broke the quiet.

"Kreacher says Mistress calls for dinner, young Master Regulus," the elf croaked, bowing low with his spindly arms bent. His great eyes glead with pride at the errand. "Mistress does not like to be kept waiting."

I sighed and brushed invisible dust from my robes. "I’m coming, Kreacher."

The old elf trailed behind as I descended to the dining hall. When I stepped into the room, I found the table already occupied my parents seated with perfect posture, and Sirius slouched in his chair, expression clouded with boredom

"Finally," my mother said, her voice smooth and cold, though her lips curved in the faintest smile. "We were beginning to wonder if you had taken root in your room."

"Regulus wouldn’t keep us waiting without reason," Father said, his tone calr, more patient. He gestured toward the empty seat across from Sirius. "Sit, son. Dinner is served."

I slid into the chair, glancing briefly at Sirius. He gave a look that was half warning, half disdain, before stabbing at his roast lamb with unnecessary force

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