You're just too good to be true (Can't take my eyes off of you)

FOUR

The Hogwarts soccer field, nestled behind the castle grounds and hidden from most students, was one of the few places where the line between the magical and Muggle worlds blurred. Unlike Quidditch, which was Hogwarts' primary sport, soccer was a niche activity—something only a small group of Muggle-born students pursued. For them, soccer was more than just a game; it was a tether to their non-magical roots, a way to feel connected to their upbringing in a world dominated by magic. And at the heart of that soccer team stood Petunia Evans, the team captain, the driving force, and the embodiment of fierce independence.

The morning sun glinted off the dew-soaked grass, and the field was alive with the rhythmic pounding of cleats against the turf, the sharp commands from Petunia, and the occasional laughter of teammates exchanging banter. But Petunia didn't laugh or joke along with them. She was here for one thing—to win.

From the sidelines, it was easy to see that Petunia Evans was different. While the other players occasionally stumbled or faltered, Petunia was always two steps ahead, both mentally and physically. Her movements were sharp, calculated, and with purpose. There was no hesitation in her steps as she darted across the field, weaving through the defense like water flowing through rocks. The soccer ball seemed to stick to her feet, as if the game was an extension of her being, her every move a testament to years of practice and dedication.

As the captain, Petunia had a unique presence. Her teammates respected her not just for her skill, but for the way she commanded the field with quiet authority. The usual camaraderie found in team sports—the casual conversations, the friendly teasing—didn't exist in the same way with her. Petunia kept a professional distance, a sharp line that separated her from the others. While her teammates bonded over shared jokes or encouragement, Petunia communicated with crisp instructions.

"Get back in formation!" she shouted, her voice firm but not harsh as she intercepted a pass and sent the ball flying down the field. "Don't let them press you on the wing!"

Her commands were obeyed without question. There was no need for Petunia to explain herself. She had earned the respect of her team through sheer force of will and talent, and her leadership style reflected that. Efficiency over emotions, precision over pleasantries. When Petunia spoke, her teammates listened.

But it wasn't just the respect that set her apart—it was her intensity. While her teammates treated practice as a balance of fun and competition, for Petunia, every drill, every pass, and every shot on goal was as if they were playing for the championship. She approached the game with the same seriousness and determination that most students at Hogwarts reserved for their O.W.L. exams.

Her passion for soccer went deeper than just a love for the game—it was an outlet. It was the one place where she could control the outcome, where her success was dependent solely on her own performance. In a world where she often felt overshadowed by her younger sister, Lily, soccer was the one arena where Petunia could shine, untainted by the magic that dominated her family's life. On the field, she wasn't Lily Evans's sister. She was Petunia Evans, the captain, the leader, the best player on the team.

For Petunia, soccer wasn't just a sport—it was a way to channel her emotions, frustrations, and insecurities. While her teammates may have thought of it as a fun diversion or a way to stay fit, Petunia saw it as her escape, her way to release the pent-up anger she carried. Her sharp passes and powerful kicks were fueled by the feelings she rarely expressed out loud.

The comparisons to Lily always hovered at the edges of her mind, like an ever-present shadow. While Lily had a natural charm that drew people in, Petunia had had to build herself from the ground up. Lily, with her magic and her kind nature, seemed to glide through life effortlessly, while Petunia had to claw for every bit of recognition she got. But here, on this field, none of that mattered. There was no magic in soccer, no spells to influence the outcome. It was just hard work, skill, and heart—and in those areas, Petunia excelled.