Ch122- Hesitation

Ch122- Hesitation

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Misty appeared with a soft pop, her eyes wide with excitement at being of service. "Master Potter, Miss Petunia, Misty is ready to take you home," she squeaked, her voice filled with eagerness.

"Thank you, Misty. Let's head back," Harry said, offering Petunia a reassuring smile as they took hold of Misty's offered hands. With a nod from Harry, Misty snapped her fingers, and they disappeared with a faint crack, leaving behind the twinkling lights and lingering melodies of the Yule Ball.

Reappearing in the familiar surroundings of their home, Harry and Petunia shared a moment of quiet reflection on the night's events. The warmth of their living room, with its soft, inviting glow, was a welcome contrast to the grandeur of the ball.

Petunia let out a contented sigh, her earlier trepidation about attending the event now replaced by a warm sense of accomplishment. "That was quite the evening, Harry," she said, removing her coat and settling onto the sofa.

Harry's smile was bright and genuine as he looked at his aunt. "You were truly amazing tonight, Aunty," he complimented, his eyes reflecting the pride he felt. Petunia, with a modest smile, found her lap soon occupied by Crookshanks, who sought her affection with a purr. As she stroked the cat, she sighed softly, her voice carrying a weight of decision. "Harry, I think it would be better if you attended such gatherings without me in the future."

Harry's expression turned to one of confusion, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "What do you mean, Aunty? If this is about that frog—"

But Petunia interrupted him gently, shaking her head to dismiss the notion. "No, Harry, it's not about her. It's about status."

Harry's scowl deepened, reflecting his disdain for the shallow judgments of the wizarding elite. "Aunty, the opinions of those self-important fools hold no weight. They're trapped in archaic beliefs, thinking pure bloodlines are superior to innovation and intelligence. Did you not see how impressed Lady Longbottom was? Your creativity left her in awe."

Petunia's gaze softened, but her resolve remained. "Harry, it's not just about their opinions. It's about fitting in, and I... I don't want you to miss out because of me."

Nigel chimed in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Ah, yes, because nothing says fitting in like hobnobbing with wizards who think a good pedigree trumps common sense. Truly, the pinnacle of social achievement."

Harry's grin widened, pleased with her acceptance. "Trust me, Aunty, Quidditch is more than just a game. It's a spectacle. And with you in the VIP box, it'll be even more special."

Harry could see Petunia's earlier apprehension about attending events like the Yule Ball slowly fading away. As they discussed the upcoming Quidditch games, Harry saw a gleam of excitement in Petunia's eyes, a sign that she was gradually moving past the earlier hesitations about attending magical events such as Yule Ball. "We're expected at Longbottom Manor this Friday," Harry added, his tone casual but encouraging. "It's a perfect opportunity, Aunty. You should present the muggle greenhouse technology you've blended with magical practices. The Greengrass, Davis, Bones, and Abbott families will be there, too."

Petunia, caught in the enthusiasm of the moment, momentarily forgot her reservations. "Oh, that sounds wonderful, Harry. But what exactly should I prepare?" she inquired, her voice laced with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

Harry smiled reassuringly. "Just be yourself, Aunty. Share your passion for blending muggle innovations with magic. It's not just about the technology; it's the perspective you bring that's truly revolutionary."

Nigel, seizing the moment to add his insight, quipped, "Yes, think of it as enlightening the wizarding world one greenhouse at a time. Who knows, you might just start a trend. Next thing we know, they'll be swapping their broomsticks for gardening tools! A rake perhaps?"

Chuckling, Harry waved off Nigel's commentary with a light-hearted, "You've got quite the imagination, Nigel." He then turned to Petunia, his eyes reflecting the fatigue of the day's events, "It's been a long night, Aunty. I think it's time for me to head to bed. Good night."

Petunia smiled softly at Harry, her gaze warm. "Good night, Harry. Today was indeed eventful. Rest well."

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