A Visitor in the Magical Kingdom

A/N: Same old spiel: don't own the characters, make no money, etc. I haven't tried to rip off anyone's fanfic storyline but if you disagree and have seen other stories that mirror this one too closely in your opinion, please let me know…

Chapter 1: The Letter

Hagrid gently handed the young boy over to the Headmaster and McGonagall, tears splashing down through his beard. With grim looks, the boy was placed on the doorstep of the cookie-cutter home in Little Whinging, Surrey.

"He'll be fine, Minerva," the Headmaster murmured quietly and offered placating pats on the witch's shoulder. "They're his blood relatives; I'm sure they'll love Harry as they would their own son."

Petunia was stressed. She thought it was stressful enough having one boy, her dear Duddykins, and adjusting to motherhood. But now there were two boys she had to look after and care for. "Well," she mused, "really three if you count Vernon." A brief grimace flashed across her face before she controlled those thoughts and looked once again at the new arrival. The boy looked up at her with bright green eyes and an innocent face. This wasn't her child, but how could she deny him?

Vernon certainly could though. He blustered up to Petunia again, his mustache twitching in disgust. "No! Absolutely not! We already have a son and we don't need the additional burden right now! Just think of how expensive it will be having two children to clothe and feed!"

Petunia glared at him. She had to cajole her husband into considering one child because he was so obsessed with keeping up with the neighbors and showing off how successful he was. She was proud of how well he did his job at Grunnings, but wasn't the purpose of working hard to enjoy life?

Clearly ignoring his wife, Vernon continued his tirade. "Besides, he's not even your child – he's the spawn of your sister and that ruffian she called a husband!" He then stopped and got a wild look in his eye. "I bet that means he'll be a freak! I'm not having a freak like him exposing us to his unnatural ways, Petunia! I won't stand for it!"

She narrowed her eyes and set her jaw, transforming her look from somewhat horsey to predatory. She would be the first to admit she was estranged from her sister for many years, unable to cope with her being 'special'. But she was still her sister and, especially now that she had been murdered, he had no right to call her that. "You will not call her that!" she shot back in an angry tone. "We had our differences, but I will not abandon her son just because of that!"

Vernon threw his hands up in the air. "You expect me to put up with this? I won't do it, Petunia! I won't! You talked me into one child – one! We now have one child and I will not tolerate a second!"

Silence fell over the room as Petunia stared back at this man she thought was her love, her life. "You mean you would never want a second child? I mean if it was our child?" she asked quietly.

Incredulous, he could only gape back at her. How hard could this be to understand? "Why in the world would I ever want another child?"

Petunia won the battle, but she was losing the war. Ultimately, despite Vernon's loud and frequent objections, Harry stayed and Petunia raised him best she could. But the arguments became more frequent and she was wearing down. This wasn't what marriage was supposed to be like; it wasn't the vision she had in her head when he proposed to her.

One day they both knew it was over. There wasn't yelling and screaming on this day – just resignation about what the reality of the situation was. Vernon had been sleeping in the spare bedroom for over a year now and today came down the stairs for breakfast with a suitcase in hand. "I'll be by later to get the rest of my things and my solicitor will contact you once the papers are drawn up."

Despite all the arguments and animosity, Petunia couldn't help but shed tears now that it was really happening. She merely nodded her understanding and Vernon left the kitchen, closing the door and driving out of her life for good.

"Good morning, Mum!" Harry called out. He descended the stairs in a blur, with Dudley sleepily trailing after him. Though she was a working mum, she felt proud that the boys were turning out well. Harry was polite, teachers praised his work, and he seemed to have a quiet, unassuming air about him. She was sure he would be a little heartbreaker as he got older!

Dudley was more of a force – he was loud, brash, and a marginal student. But he was good at sports, especially ones that put a premium on his size, like rugby. He also was somewhat of a class clown and therefore his teachers and friends would roll their eyes at his antics, giving frustrated-yet-amused smiles whenever the subject of Dudley's latest escapades came up. Despite their different personalities, they got along with each other; as well as any two brothers would get along, at least.

Harry quickly pulled out the eggs and set to work helping Petunia finish breakfast - "He was such a dear boy!" – while Dudley staggered over to the front door and get the mail. "Have you showered yet, Dudders? You're both supposed to go to Mrs. Figg in an hour and I don't want to be known as having unkempt children!" Petunia was now working swing shift over the summers, which meant that she relied on Mrs. Figg's kindness to help her watch the boys.

Dudley dropped the letters on the counter and took his seat at the table to attack the toast Petunia laid out earlier. Casually flipping through the letters before plating up the bacon, she performed the mental check, "Bill, bill, advert, alimony check…" Vernon was at least paying a small stipend to Petunia for Dudley's care, allowing her to keep food on the table. As part of their settlement, she got the house, custody, and received some money. But the money was only for Dudley, as he never acknowledged responsibility for Harry. It was a concession; she could have gotten a lot more out of the man. But by that time she was through and just wanted to close that chapter in her life. Keeping the boys and not having to move out were what she really wanted anyway.

The final letter caught her eye and she jerked in surprise – it had that fancy green writing she vaguely recalled from many, many years ago. Looking at it closely she knew: It was Harry's letter! She quickly stuffed it into her pocket and resumed serving breakfast to her boys. She would have to deal with this, but not now…

Petunia was slowly washing the dishes as darkness descended. She had unconsciously been scrubbing the same plate for a good twenty minutes, lost in thought. The letter. Why did he have to get a letter? For the last two days Petunia thought about the blasted letter she had in her pocket, choosing to keep it on her all day. Boys will be boys, poking around whatever you are sure they shouldn't be poking about in. Over those two days, her thoughts and feelings from her own childhood would always rise up, causing anger and jealousy to temporarily cloud her judgment before tamping it back down again. It wouldn't be fair to Harry if he weren't given the choice…

Her mind made up, she ascended the stairs and made her way to Harry's room at the far end of the hall. She felt bad his room was smaller than Dudley's but he didn't seem to mind. They painted it a dark red and once some furniture was in there it turned out quite cozy. She knocked lightly on the door, certain that he was still up based on the light coming from under the door. "Harry, can I come in?"

"Sure Mum," he replied, setting down a football magazine he had been reading on his bed.

Petunia settled sat down on the bed beside Harry and fiddled with her fingers in her lap a bit while trying to figure out how to start the conversation. "Harry, you remember the stories I've told you of Lily – your Mum – and your father?" After he gave a nod of acknowledgment, she continued. "They were special people, Harry. They could do special things. Magical things."

Harry felt his curiosity pique. "What kind of magical things?" he almost whispered in response.

Shifting a bit due to her nervousness, Petunia said quietly, "Magic, Harry. They could do magic."

"Like the blokes down in London?"

"No. Those are street performers, dear. I'm talking about real magic. Harry, your Mum was a witch and your Dad was a wizard."

Harry just stared back at her with a guarded look. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe his Mum was not feeling well. Whatever it was, what she said didn't make any sense at all.

Petunia slowly withdrew the envelope from her pocket and placed it on the bed between them. "Maybe we should open this together," she offered in a quiet voice.

Harry looked at the envelope with the funny green ink. It was addressed to him, but not like any other address he had seen before. It said, "Harry Potter, Small Bedroom on the 2nd Floor, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey". That seemed awfully specific...

Gingerly turning it over he saw a coat of arms on the back along with "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry" emblazoned around it. His hands started to shake and he looked uncertainly at his Mum. "Wh-what is this?" he stuttered out.

"It's your acceptance letter, telling you that you're a wizard and that they want you to attend their school."

"Did … did Mum and Dad get a letter like this?"

Petunia shifted again, knowing where this conversation was going. She tried to collect her thoughts in order to keep the jealousy from rising up again. "Yes, they did."

"Did … did you get a letter like this?" Harry asked, turning to look up at her.

"No, I did not."

"Why?"

"Because … because I'm not special like your Mum was," she whispered as tears began to form.

Harry studied the woman who had been her Mum for as long as he could remember. She had told him how his parents died so long ago, and how he had been left on their doorstep. How she took him in despite the fact they had Dudley and that Vernon was against it. And how ultimately, she chose Dudley and Harry over Vernon in the end. That's why they were alone now; why she had to work so hard.

He slowly scooted out from under the covers and put his arms around his Mum. "I think you're special," he whispered and held her tight.

Petunia always knew Harry was a caring and sensitive boy, but this act left her shuddering as she tried to hold in her sobs. After several minutes passed she released her hug and looked at her Son, "Thank you," she whispered.

Clearing her throat, she collected her thoughts back to the subject at hand. Gesturing to the letter, she directed, "You should open that. Let's see what it says."

Harry did as requested and placed the letter on the bed between them so they could both read it. After reading it again and thinking about the words a moment, he turned to his Mum and spoke. "So … what do they teach there? Where is this school? How did they know I'm a wizard?"

Sighing slightly, Petunia realized she was about to face a host of questions about a subject she only knew a little bit about. "Well, I imagine they teach you how to do magic there. I believe Lily said the school was up north … in Scotland I recall." She scrunched up her face, trying to unbury those few stilted conversations she had with her sister about the wizarding world. "As for how they know you're a wizard? I assume it's because of your parents." She shrugged, indicating that was a 'best guess'.

Harry pondered all of this new information. "Me? A wizard? I could perform magic?" The idea was pretty cool, even though he had no idea what that meant. But going to school in Scotland and being away from home? He really didn't like the sound of that. He liked his school, his friends, his Mum; even Dudley was actually a pretty good brother.

"What if … what if … I don't want to go?" Harry meekly said. He didn't want his Mum to be disappointed in him, but at the same time he wasn't sure if all the tradeoffs were worth it.

For some reason Petunia felt relief – like a tremendous weight had been lifted off of her. But she felt torn; Harry had a gift and he wasn't going to use it? "Why wouldn't you want to go?" she replied, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

"Well … I like it here," Harry started slowly, still looking down at the letter on his bed. "I have friends, I like the school. And it's so far away and I'll miss you and Dudley. I have no idea what magic is about and it sounds cool, but I could hate it. I could be terrible at it."

"What if this was your only chance to know about it – know about magic? Does it scare you that much?" Petunia could hardly believe she was defending the world she hated, but felt it was Harry's decision. She needed to make sure he was making his decision for the right reasons.

If anything, Harry became even smaller upon hearing this. "I … I don't want to lose you Mum. Besides, I don't know if I want to know about magic. My parents died because of magic…" he trailed off, sounding like the scared, almost 11-year-old boy he was.

Petunia gathered him in another hug and held him for a few minutes. "I won't make you go. If you don't want to go, we can decline. I just wanted to make sure you thought about your decision. Maybe you should sleep on it and we can talk more tomorrow?"

Harry tried to let the sniffles subside. Finally he murmured, "I've decided, Mum. I'm not going."