Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the characters and all the whatnot. I only own the plot and poetry in this fanfiction.
1
Petunia's Condition
No time for Grief
Harry was in a bout of self-pity and hurt when it happened. It has just been a while since he had come back to Number 4 Privet Drive and Aunt Petunia went to the grocery store as soon as he was inside. She had gone alone; bustling in such a manner as some may when they know where they are going and why and that feeling of purpose is a strong aura around those. Everything was terribly a façade of normalcy, and Dudley, to Harry's surprise, had gone down in size from a baby killer whale to a teenager with quite a sturdy stature. He had visible muscles from all of that boxing and he had come out (to Harry's utmost disgust) quite handsome. He seemed easier on the eyes with his tanned, muscled body and blonde hair than Harry, whose paleness from not being allowed outside along with those odd green eyes and black unruly hair had made him look like a shadow of what resembled a person.
It was too good to be true, in the life of Harry Potter, for to his horror, Aunt Petunia returned two and a half hours later looking ragged. She quickly locked the door behind her and ran inside. Dudley came to give her the "welcome home" hug that had become a habit for him, but she pulled away. This is when Harry realized something might be wrong. Her eyes were wild with a primal fear and she was shaking. Vernon Dursley came from washing up in the bathroom to give his wife a kiss on the cheek, but she shied away, trembling, and squeaked. Vernon and Dudley were very confused and had no idea what to do, seeing that if such a situation had occurred with either of them in Petunia's place, she would have dealt with them. Harry, realizing that something was terribly wrong with Aunt Petunia, put a hand around her back, leading her up to the room.
She followed his lead as if she were a puppet on broken strings. Harry ushered her to her room, helping her lay down. She burst into tears and started sobbing noisily. Dudley and Uncle Vernon were coming up, but he made sure they couldn't get in. It wouldn't be good for Dudley to see his mother this way, and after the way Aunt Petunia reacted to both of them, it probably wouldn't be good for her either.
"Say, what do you think you're doing?"
"Well, Uncle, Aunt Petunia doesn't want to see you." That was the wrong thing to say and Harry only realized how bad it sounded after the words left his lips. "Always the Gryffindor tact, or should I say no tact, Potter?" Harry heard a little voice (that sounded oddly like Professor Snape) in his head say.
"You!" Vernon pointed a fat finger at Harry, "You are the cause of this problem! You used some of your freak," he paused, "magic, on her! What have you done? I swear I'll kill you with my bare hands if you don't stop hurting my wife!"
"Dad," Dudley said softly, watching his mother sob on the bed, "I don't think he did anything this time." Harry was shocked at first. Dudley had taken his side! If only this had happened, say, a few years ago. Things would be much easier.
"Then what is it then? WHAT IS IT?" Vernon yelled. He really did love his wife; a lot. This didn't make any sense to him at all. "Harry," Vernon said softly, "Fix her. I don't care how, as long as you don't use any of that freak magic on her, but you better do it. Pay her back for taking you in all those years again, ungrateful brat. No hospital, unless she really needs it, we don't want anybody to think we're abnormal." He left, Dudley following, glancing at his father and mother before Harry closed the door.
As Harry looked back at the closed door, the weight of what he had to do hit him full force. Something was wrong with his aunt and he was going to have to find out what. He grimaced. "No complaining Harry," he thought, "She's your mother's sister. Help her out for your mother." Okay, first thing he had to do was make sure she wasn't physically injured. He, steeling himself, took off her shirt and pants. Red lines marked her skin, and then, and then Harry felt like he wanted to vomit. It was all clear now, her clothes in disarray and those marks and the evidence he just saw. Somebody had raped her!
He started humming, ushering her to the shower. She went in and washed up, everything seemed to be fine, accept she was in there for quite a long time.
"Aunt Petunia?" He called at the door, "Are you dressed? I'm coming in." He opened the door to see her sobbing and banging her hands at the reflection of herself in the mirror. She was dressed, thank goodness. Harry pulled away her hands and she complacently stopped, letting him take her into her room.
"Harry," she croaked, "You look so much like your mother. Sometimes I really wish she was here today."
The days worsened from there. Harry had to cook all the meals, wash the dishes, clean up, make sure he knew where Dudley was going and when he'd be back (by orders from Petunia), make sure Aunt Petunia was alright, help Vernon move in to his old room as he became accustomed to sleeping in her room on the floor in case she started having fits, and many more chores as well as trying to keep his uncle calm. Slowly she was getting better; she'd talk more and ask how everyone was doing. Sometimes she cried herself sick and Harry had to take care of her, and as a result of this Harry always looked a little worse for wear. One night that he had nearly been able to get 8 hours of sleep, he had a wonderful dream that he felt was reality.
Harry stared at the cold surface of the water. It made him uneasy at how chaotic his surroundings were broken buildings and charred remains of newspapers. It smelled of rotting. Everything was decrepit except for that glassy pool, still and motionless like glass. Harry knew that the water was more than 20 feet deep and that if he dipped his foot in the water, it would suck him in as he would drown quietly. He felt someone's presence. A man sat on a rock, staring at the water as well. His hair was black and fell around his face neatly.
"I hate this place," the man said.
"I hate it too. The water the most," Harry responded, staring at the cool depths.
"The water? It is the only beautiful and tranquil thing here; why do you hate it?"
"That water is a sneak. It lures you to feel safe as it sucks you into a silent eternity where your body will never feel the warmth of the sun again."
"So you're scared? I like to liken myself to that pool." He smiled a wolfish grin, "Have you seen the fire?" He gestured behind him. Harry turned and saw it. It was wild and tearing ever closer.
"Eventually our only way of escape will be to the water. We cannot escape as soon as we get into the water. So, do you want to burn to death or drown?" The fire wasn't destroying, it was purifying.
"I rather burn, and you?"
"I'll drown."
"Maybe if we work together we won't have to die."
"If one is burned the other may live. I won't do that to you."
"I'll burn, if you promise you'll remember me."
"Why?"
"You deserve to live."
"And you don't?" He smiled at Harry and pushed Harry to the ground. He trapped him there with his arms.
"So beautiful, that you'd do that for someone you don't know." He stroked Harry's cheek.
"I'll remember this, and someday you will need me and I'll be there.
Harry woke up smiling. After four letter to the order (12 days passed), things took a turn for the worse.
Dear Potter,
The werewolf can no longer receive your letter to the Order. Don't worry, your mangy animal friend is alive and well but can no longer have time to receive them due to his new…responsibility, as you are probably aware of. These letters shall be sent to me.
-Professor Snape
What was this new responsibility? No, he wasn't aware of it at all! And this letter brought up even more questions that he never had time to think of due to his aunt's condition. Why hadn't he received letters from Ron and Hermione? Was this another thing he wasn't allowed to do, or were they giving him space because of…Sirius? Harry's mouth grew dry. Sirius. He'd never really got to think through anything about Sirius, no time for it, but little things like seeing a friendly dog that could be said to resemble a grim made a whole new well or pain erupt in him. He had made so many mistakes, but that was the past. Right now he had to take care of his relatives.
The questions continued to play in his head, dancing to the music Danse Macabre. He wearily placed a hand on his head. Today he was going to try to make Petunia talk about what happened. Her condition was like a wound, and talking about it would disinfect it to pave the way to healing, or more like repairing since the scar would remain forever.
"Petunia," Harry started, chewing on his bottom lip, "Can you tell me what happened?" Petunia's eyes widened and she quivered.
"I want to be strong," she said softly, "I hate being no use to this family; but Harry!
He was blonde too! He…you figured it out. Harry, I can't look at them. And I could barely be around you because he was a wizard!"
"What? How can you be sure?"
"A wand, like yours and he used magic to stop me from moving. Sounded like Portana Usco." She shivered and started trembling and crying. Harry rocked her, humming to her as she started to fall asleep.
"Aunt Petunia?" he asked softly, "Can I tell Uncle Vernon?" She shook her head no, but stopped herself.
"Not Dudley," she said firmly.
"He's going to find out anyway."
"Not Dudley," she repeated. Harry sighed and left the room. Part of taking care of his aunt included having conversations with her daily and finding books for her to read. Oddly enough, she loved sci-fi and mystery novels. Harry was extremely tired emotionally and physically. He wanted to sleep so badly!
Uncle Vernon was sitting in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee that Harry had prepared. He and Harry still had a trust issue, but Uncle Vernon had realized was on good terms with Harry. Harry being the unofficial House Elf had probably helped.
"I found out what happened," Harry said softly, hating the awkward situation. Vernon's hand shook, the coffee almost spilling.
"She doesn't want Dudley knowing but," Harry leaned over to Vernon's ear and told him.
"She…what? She would've told me, not you!"
"He was a wizard," Harry continued, forgetting the Dursley laws, including not saying those types of words. His uncle spluttered, "One of," he paused, "your kind?"
"Well, I guess you could say that," Harry muttered, "I'm planning to find out how to get him arrested in our world. Laws against that, you see. All I have to do is find out who it was and get a lawyer for Petunia so we can file charges." Harry was tired. He had given up trying to make it easier for Mr. Dursley. Mr. Dursley on the other hand had not gotten past the man being a wizard part. Harry heard a pop.
"Potter, you are come to Grimmauld Place with your relatives immediately. The wards are becoming contaminated! Take this portkey with your family; I will not be responsible if you don't." Snape apparated away.
"You git!" Harry muttered, as he frantically tried to explain to Dudley, who had come in when the pop had resounded. Dudley got the gist of it and explained it in easier to understand terms to his father. Harry ran up the stairs, followed by both of them and got Petunia to touch it. She seemed to understand what was happening and made no complaint. Harry gathered his wand and values and ran back. A few seconds later, he felt that horrible pull at his stomach. He tried to comfort himself by thinking, "Whatever I'm feeling must be much worse for them." He shuddered as he remembered his first time using one.
"Harry, you look terrible!" he heard a feminine voice say. His world cleared up. Petunia was clutching him as if he was a lifeline as she stared at all of those wizards and witches. They all held that power that they could use to abuse her, ruin her mind, and mess up her life. She shivered. She never wanted that to happen again. Hermione ran over to him, disentangling Petunia in the hurry, and hugged him. Harry looked back at his aunt. She seemed like a little girl lost in a mall, and her eyes held that depth that they did when she was remembering what had happened. Harry pulled away from Hermione; Petunia was first priority. He led her over to Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley gave her a hug, noticing how bad she looked, and led her into a conversation. Petunia gave her a shy smile as they talked. Harry sighed; that was taken care of.
Dumbledore stood at the door, clad in blue robes, the material fluid and shiny.
"Severus told you of the condition of the wards. Petunia, what's wrong? Petunia froze and Harry ran automatically to her side. He felt protective of her; this is what his mother would have wanted. "The wards could only become contaminated if some event had happened to change the course and bond of the family, for better or for worse, that this new bond became enough to infect the wards." Harry responded by whispering in her ear if he could tell him. She sighed, her body sagging, but nodded. Harry had to stand on toes to whisper in Dumbledore's ears (how was that old man still taller than him?) what happened.
The superb twinkle in Dumbledore's became deadened. He spoke in a clear voice, "No one will bother Petunia about this. I'm sorry, but I have some business to attend to." He apparated. The silence thickened, and the cold of the house filled the emptiness in Harry's blank eyes. Sometimes he felt so alone, detached from the world. Then all his insecurities would nibble at his heart. Why did Snape know something about Professor Lupin that he didn't know? Why hadn't Ron and Hermione write to him? Why did the world have to be so cruel? The worst thing was that nagging suspicion that the person he had talked to in his dreams and had such a fun time with was Voldemort.
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed. Love all of you,
-Verdesilath
