It seemed the passing of the Evanses and others made no ripples in the Muggle world, save for a few extra reports in The Times about a gas leak and a car accident.
On the day of the funeral, the Kirkwhelpstone Cemetery was shrouded under a gloomy, leaden sky, and the damp air carried the scent of earth.
Snape's gaze drifted over rows of somber tombstones, settling on the two brand-new oak coffins ahead.
In the very front row, there was a noticeable distance between Lily and Petunia.
Lily's slender shoulders looked especially fragile in her black mourning dress, and her red hair, usually vibrant like fire, now lay flat against her pale cheeks.
"It's truly heartbreaking," a man's voice suddenly broke the silence beside Snape. "They were so young."
Snape turned his head and saw a tall, burly young man with barely any neck, dressed in a tight suit.
"Hello," the man said. "I'm Vernon Dursley, Petunia's colleague and fiancé."
"Hello," Snape replied, shaking Vernon's large hand briefly. "I'm Severus Snape, Lily's friend."
"What do you do for a living?" Vernon asked, his eyes scanning Snape up and down, puffing out his chest slightly, a hint of boastfulness in his tone. "I'm in the drilling business at Grunnings in London, a junior executive."
He deliberately emphasized the word "executive."
"Hmm," Snape's mouth twitched. Of course, Uncle Vernon is Uncle Vernon. He drawled, "I don't need to work. My ancestors' money is simply inexhaustible."
A trace of awkwardness flickered across Vernon's face.
The crowd began to stir, moving closer to the open graves.
"Let's talk later," Vernon said, starting to push his way through the crowd, his sturdy frame carving a path.
Snape's gaze returned to Petunia. Her transformation made her almost unrecognizable. The girl he knew now wore a well-tailored black dress, her golden hair neatly pinned up, her face a mixture of grief and anger.
As her eyes swept over Snape, a clear flicker of annoyance crossed them.
The priest began to recite prayers. Snape saw Lily's shoulders start to tremble, but she stubbornly refused to cry out loud.
When the last handful of earth fell onto the coffin, the crowd began to disperse. Snape noticed a few strangely dressed people standing conspicuously at the edge of the graveyard, pretending to adjust their ties or handbags. One of them met Snape's gaze and gave a slight nod—members of the Order of the Phoenix.
Snape and Eileen finally had a chance to approach Lily, but Lily walked towards Petunia and Vernon instead.
"I'm so sorry, Petunia, I truly am! Listen to me—" Lily grabbed her sister's hand and held it tightly, while Petunia struggled desperately to pull away.
"Lily," Petunia's voice was cold and clear as she tried to yank her hand from her sister's grip. "It's laughable, talking about a gas explosion. Luckily you were willing to tell me the truth. You freak, you finally brought misfortune to the family. Mum loved you so much."
Petunia finally pulled her hand away, and Lily's eyes welled up with tears.
Vernon looked on in confusion, not understanding what they were saying.
"What truth?" he stammered, looking at Petunia.
Petunia fell silent, her gaze shifting between Snape and Lily, finally settling on Vernon.
"It's nothing, Vernon—we'll talk later, okay?" Her voice softened, a tone Snape had never heard her use before.
She then looked coldly at Lily again: "I'm going back to London."
Lily looked up, her green eyes brimming with tears: "Petunia, you can't just leave—we need—"
"No," Petunia interrupted her. "You need. I already have my own life. These—memories, they're all for you."
Snape saw Lily's face turn ashen.
"Are you saying—you're not coming back?" Lily whispered.
"That's right." A deep sadness appeared in Petunia's expression. "Here"—she looked around, her gaze sweeping over the tombstones, the damp grass, and finally resting on Lily—"there's nothing left for me to cherish here."
"Petunia," Lily's voice trembled with pain. "Mum and Dad loved you, Petunia. They always hoped we could—"
"Could what?" Petunia retorted sharply. "Could pretend nothing happened? After you became—after all this happened?" She looked at Lily with disgust. "Look what your choices brought to this family, Lily. This is your choice."
Vernon Dursley cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the argument: "Darling, shall we go?"
Petunia nodded and walked away without looking back. Snape noticed a glint of tears in her eyes as she turned, but she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.
Lily reached out, trying to grasp her sister's arm, but Petunia had already turned and left. Her hand hung in mid-air, then fell limply.
Her body swayed. Snape instinctively reached out to steady her. Lily buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing silently.
He could feel Lily's tears soaking his suit, warm and damp.
"I hate myself," Lily mumbled, her voice broken by sobs.
Snape gently patted her back.
"It's not your fault," he whispered.
After the funeral, they returned to St Catchpole village. Lily became even more silent, often sitting alone in the garden, lost in thought.
It was only when Charlie wobbled in on a toy broomstick to inform them that Snape and Eileen remembered their planned vacation to Albania with the Weasleys.
"Come with us, Lily?" Eileen said, helping Charlie off the broom. "It'll do you good to get away. You've been spending so much time alone lately."
Lily thought for a moment, then managed a weak smile and softly agreed.
Eileen quickly packed their luggage, then crammed everything into Snape's small money pouch, which had an Undetectable Extension Charm.
"How convenient," she said. "Did you make this yourself? I could never learn that spell. Why don't you make a couple more?"
"Ahem, ahem," Snape tried to explain that he certainly couldn't do that, all his previous attempts had failed. "It's very difficult to cast an Undetectable Extension Charm on something so small. I can't make more in a short amount of time."
"Really?" Eileen looked closely at the pouch's texture, asking skeptically, "If your craftsmanship is that good, it doesn't seem right?"
"Let's go," Snape quickly pulled Charlie closer. "Mrs. Weasley and the others are waiting for us."
And so, they walked through the yard towards the Burrow.
The scorching midday sun beat down on the hillside, raising dry waves of heat. Occasionally, a gust of wind swept by, rustling the dry grass.