Note: Petunia explains to Harry why she so hated him, his mother and 'their kind…' This is a hypothetical letter to Harry from his Aunt Petunia. I realize that expressing herself isn't very Petunia-ish (although I think people may be more comfortable expressing themselves in writing than they are in speech) However, I wanted to articulate some of the feelings Petunia might have had. After HP7, I started thinking about the relationship between Petunia and Lily and used my own personal experiences and feelings as the elder of two. I'm sure we're all aware that Petunia was extremely jealous of her younger sister. I just tried to expand on it. Many thanks.
I do not own Harry Potter, its characters or any other affiliated items.
Harry—
I'm not sure why I'm writing this to you now. Perhaps it was the impact of the situation and the reality of all the danger we are in. I just realized that there was a chance you, my sister's son, were going to die. I don't know why that upset me as much as it did when I spent your entire life showing my contempt towards you and your kind.
Dudley certainly doesn't hate you. When your Uncle Vernon left me alone to think for a minute, I had to admit that I'm not sure how I feel about all this. I thought I'd hated you your entire life but now that I think about it, I realize that I didn't hate you as much as I might've said or showed I did. Now that I think about it, I have to admit that I didn't hate my sister as much as I might've said or showed I did, either.
You might not believe me, but there was a time your mother and I were best friends. When I remembered my childhood with your mother before, I used to shrivel up with a painful feeling in my gut and I passed it off as hatred. I was wrong; it wasn't hatred. It was a mix of ugly emotions. When you were born, the painful ugly feelings I had towards your mother just naturally expanded to be directed towards you as well.
We used to be very close, your mother and I. When it was revealed that your mother had powers beyond the ordinary, I felt as though your mother and I were drifting apart. Lily used to come to me about any questions she had about anything. I was suddenly lost because I didn't have any answers for the new questions she had about her new identity. She wasn't turning to me for help anymore. I felt as though I had lost my little sister. I felt as though I had failed as an older sister.
It was as though your mother was running ahead of me and I was struggling to catch up. While your mother discovered things about her new world, I remained in our old one, trying, but not grasping anything.
When your mother started showing her 'abilities,' I also began to grow wistful of her powers. I wasn't outright jealous then because I thought they were just little tricks she had learned at school or something. When her powers intensified, I knew it was something else and I started thinking, 'why can't I do that?' When what she could do turned out to be real, when we realized that she was part of a whole new world, a world that I couldn't be a part of no matter how much I wanted to be, I started growing envious. My pride as an older sister had been crushed. I suddenly felt small and Lily suddenly started looking bigger.
My jealousy wasn't helped at all by my parents, who immediately forgot me and started doting on Lily and her abilities. They exclaimed to all the family and friends about how special she was, how extraordinary. I was left in the dark, to watch my sister shine in the spotlight from afar. The proper older sister would have gone right along with her parents in doting on her younger sister. I should've supported Lily because she was obviously as nervous as she was excited. I didn't. In that way, I suppose, I failed most as an older sister. The ugly green fiend we call 'jealousy' kept me from smiling at my sister and giving her words of encouragement. It made me spite her and in my resentment, I started calling her 'freak.' I felt guilty every time I said it. However, I couldn't stop myself. Every time I called her that, the green monster that had taken complete control of my love for my sister grew even more and eventually, my emotions were warped and distorted. I forgot that I loved my sister and I forgot that I wanted to be part of her world. I became blinded through my green-eyes and I convinced myself that your mother was a freak.
I was the older one, so I had the older-sister authority. Your mother used to look up to me. I admit that I was proud and domineering. I had the privileges of being the older sister—I did everything first; I always had new clothes— and I always felt wiser and smarter than your mother.
When she found out who she was, before the letter from the school even came, she used to wander off with an awfully-dressed boy from Spinner's End and come back with her eyes shining with new information about the world she would soon enter. I used to follow them and listen, dreaming about what I might do if I had only been given the chance to be a witch, too. I even wrote a letter to the headmaster of the school, begging him to let me go, too. He told me that I could not because I did not have the proper abilities. While his response was kind, I felt as though he were telling me that I wasn't good enough. That perhaps I wasn't smart enough or something. I was crushed at that. I felt as though somehow the entire world— my parents, the school and its headmaster, everyone in your world— was telling me that I wasn't good enough. That my sister was, in fact, better than I was.
Jealousy…reminiscence…and wounded pride were all essentially why I did not treat Lily better for most of her life and why I didn't treat you better for all of yours.
This letter, I suppose is an apology. I can't deny that it isn't. I've been untruthful with myself for far too long. I don't want to beg for your forgiveness because the way I treated you and my sister has no excuse. I can only hope that you understand why you never felt the love you should have in my house, even if you don't accept it.
I want you to know that I did indeed love your mother, my sister. I'm only sorry that I had not been able to show it or tell her when she was alive. I had not been able to allow myself to love her. I did not want to make the same mistake again. I just want you to know that I do care about you, Harry. I didn't give myself the chance to be proud of my sister. I just want you to know, though, that I am indeed proud of you.
From your Aunt Petunia