I had just finished putting Dudley to bed when I went down stairs to enjoy some one on one time with Vernon. I made some tea and went into the living room. I studied him. He looked anxious about something. He cleared his throat. "Er- Petunia, dear- you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"
If I was expecting anything this wasn't it. I didn't want to talk about my dreadful sister, and her freakish family.
"No. Why?"
"Funny stuff on the news, owls... shooting stars... and there are a lot of funny looking people is town today..."
What? That sounded like the freaks she hangs out with.
"So?" I snapped.
"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."
I didn't say anything, so I sipped my tea.
He continued talking though. "Their son- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"
"I suppose so." I answered stiffly.
"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"
"Harry. Nasty, common name, it you ask me." It was. There are much more original names they could come up with.
"Oh, yes. Yes, I quite agree." I could hear the dread in his voice. We avoided the subject for the rest of the night. When we got into bed, we heard the doorbell ring.
A ringing echoed throughout the house. I sighed. "I'll get it." I murmured to Vernon.
I opened the door to find no one there. I looked around finally looking down. It took everything I had not to shriek. The baby... it had that messy black hair I saw at my freak of a sisters wedding, I knelt down and gently opened one of his eyes without waking him. Green. This must be him. The offspring of to freaks. Why was he here? Then I saw the letter and the scar on the baby's forehead. With shaking hands, I reached down for the letter. It read-
Dear Mrs. Dursely,
I am very sorry to inform you that your sister Lily Evans Potter has been murdered along with her husband James Potter last night, October 31. This murder has been the work of a dark wizard Voldemort. A prophecy was made about Harry being able to defeat Voldemort so Voldemort tried to stop it. Lily and James went into hiding, with their location in the hands of their secret keeper. Their location was revealed and Voldemort found them. Lily died trying to protect Harry. After Voldemort killed Lily he went to Harry. Because Lily gave up her life to save Harry (love), when the killing curse hit Harry, it backfired at Voldemort destroying him. The lightning scar he has received marks the place where Voldemort hit him with the killing curse. You are the only blood relative left of Harry, and therefore, he is protected as long as he calls your house his home. If you want him to live, please take him in. Also, you will probably agree that fame can go to ones head easily and it is best that Harry grows up without that. If you have anymore questions please owl me, as you have done so before. Please don't tell ANYONE about this letter. Please treat Harry as your own son, and take care of him,
- Albums P.W.B. Dumbledore
Shocked, I slowly put the letter down taking everything in. I was suddenly aware of how cold it was. I shivered. A burning came into my eyes, and tears threatened to fall. Lily. I never had a chance to say I was sorry, I would like to have contact with her. I never had a change to tell her I loved her. But, she left you for those freaks. She had it coming, for hanging around that awful boy. A bitter voice told me. I looked down at the sleeping, peaceful baby. I lifted him and cradled him in my arms. Harry. I won't let my sister be forgotten. She won't be forgotten with Harry bearing her eyes. Lets hope he doesn't have her temper though.
"Petunia? Who was at the door?" Vernon walked over to me. "Who's that?"
I told him what happened, leaving out the love stuff. Lily died. We were left with Harry.
His eyes widened. "You mean, he's like them?" he asked Horsley.
I nodded.
"Well, I'm sure we can knock it out of him with not as much good treatment as Duddy-kins. I'm off to bed. Put the boy in that extra baby bed we have." he kissed me and went upstairs. I rocked Harry. "Good luck Harry," I whispered. I pushed the black hair of his forehead, revealing a lightning bolt-shaped scar.