Petunia Dursley slipped her warm salmon pink coat over the top of her dress. Her hands were shaking slightly as she did up the buttons. She was looking in the mirror above where her dresser had been. It was packed up now. She didn't know why she hadn't taken down the mirror sooner, but there it hug on the wall against the ugly creamy flowery wallpaper…. solitary and lonely looking reflecting the emptiness of the room it gazed at.

She had loved that wallpaper when she and Vernon first were married. He had helped her put it up. She had picked it herself. Why now did it seem so damned hideous?

But she could answer that.

Because there was nothing that remained in that house the reminded Petunia of anything she had ever been happy with. It was all packed away…ready to be shipped to God knew where. Her mother's old bedcovers, pictures of her wedding day, pictures of her son. Everything was packed up.

Sighing, she lifted the mirror gently off of the wall and carried it downstairs to where Vernon and Dudley were getting ready to leave. Dudley was complaining to her husband about something or other, the strange little…wizard who was supposed to be helping them get away from…well…whatever was coming was examining their light switches most carefully, and off to the side stood Harry. Carrying the mirror and laying it down beside the door, she saw Harry looking at her. She raised her head and met his green eyes. Lily's eyes…

Lily's child.

Not hers.

Looking at them made her think of just why the boy was with her and Vernon to begin with. It brought her back to the day Lily and James had gotten married. Petunia herself and Vernon had been invited to the wedding and had reluctantly attended, only to be assailed with loud, rude, boisterous, magical people who had offended them to their very limit. It was at the dinner at the reception, when a young man had come up to Petunia and offered her a drink, which she accepted, only to realize that he was blowing his nose into a cup and…whatever was coming out of his nose was turning into a kind of mulled wine. Petunia remembered screaming, and clinging to her husband who stormed out of the hall and drove them both home.

Lily had pleaded with Petunia, insisting that the man was drunk and that all wizards didn't act like that, but Petunia wouldn't hear of it. The Potters were freaks. Lily on her own wasn't any real threat. They were sisters after all. But that Potter boy was no good, and Vernon wouldn't hear of seeing them again.

After that, there wasn't much contact with the Potters. Obviously they weren't horribly offended that Petunia and Vernon did not want to see them because they never came around or called. Not even a letter, although Petunia did receive a birthday card the year Dudley was born. It had been handmade, out of some glossy kind of paper that glittered. It wasn't wild or abnormal (which she had expected of her sister) but simple with pressed roses on the front. She remembered opening it and a tiny golden bird had flown out singing a sweet "Happy Birthday" tune. That card was now packed away in her old mahogany chest.

Then, when she was twenty-seven, she and Vernon realized they were going to be parents, and it was the happiest day of her life.

She was so ready, so prepared to take on the challenges of a child, to cuddle a little one close and sing it to sleep. That night had held so much promise for them.

"Vernon…." She walked shakily into the living room, so warm looking. Vernon was sitting in a big armchair, his coat and tie hung over the arm. He was reading a report.

"What is it, dear?" he asked as he reached for her hand, alarmed at the look on her face. She looked up into his face, those small but sweet brown eyes, the beginnings of a mustache growing on his upper lip.

"Dr. Markham says…I'm going to have a baby."

His eyes had widened and a wide grin had spread over his round boyish face. He seemed lost for words as he wound his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She leaned into him, smelling the sweet smell of pipe smoke and cologne.

"I hope it's a boy." Muttered Vernon into her hair.

Petunia raised her head.

"But what if it's a girl?" she asked, looking worried. Vernon shrugged lightly and began to rotate with her on the floor.

"Then she better look like you." He whispered, and they danced to the music that was their child. Nothing else was needed.

The months had gone quickly, and before she knew it, Petunia was as wide as a house and feeling nothing less than the greatest joy she had felt in her entire life. She had heard during the fourth month of her pregnancy that Lily too was pregnant. Until this point, she had practically forgotten about her abnormal sister, and sent mild congratulations by mail.

Her baby was born in May, the prime of springtime on a rainy morning at Charing Hospital. Her child was a boy, a rather large boy in comparison to other babies in the nursery, but a beautiful one with full pink cheeks, deep blue eyes, and a wave of golden hair. He was perfect. They named him Dudley, after Vernon's father.

Every day after that was wonderful. Vernon would leave for work in the morning, kiss his wife and baby and be gone until roughly five o'clock, during which time Petunia and Dudley played, and went for walks, and for that first year…everything was bliss.

Then Harry came.

It was bad enough when he was born, getting all these letters from Lily explaining how exceptional Harry was, and how magically inclined he was already, even at two months old. She had even dared to ask whether Dudley showed any sign of magical promise to which Petunia replied with a curt "Thankfully not." That had been the end of their correspondence.

No, Dudley did not show any magical talent, and Petunia was fine with this. Lily and James were freaks to have…magic. And it wasn't their place to criticize Dudley for not being equally freakish. He was just a little boy. And her little boy too. They could mess up their own offspring as much as they chose, but they were not to bring their strange influence to Dudley.

So life went on as usual, as though Lily and her wretched family didn't exist at all. Until that morning.

It was the morning after Halloween. Petunia had woken up earlier than usual. She had had a bad dream about lights and sadness, and it frightened her. She snuggled close to her husband in their big bed, Dudley sleeping soundly in his crib in the other room. Petunia was just about to drift off to sleep for another half an hour when she heard the sad pathetic cries of her son.

Sighing and getting to her feet, she grabbed her fluffy bathrobe off of its hook and began to walk down the hall towards the nursery. Her eyes were bleary as she opened the door and went towards the crib expecting to see her son standing up and crying for her, but he was asleep, nestled sweetly in his yellow and blue blankets, his chubby thumb in his mouth.

Confused, Petunia went back into the hall…but she could still hear crying. Maybe a neighbor's baby was crying? But it sounded so close.

Letting the matter rest, she decided to go downstairs and get the coffee started. She was putting the filter in the coffee maker, when she realized the crying had gotten closer. This was ridiculous, she thought, slamming her mug on the counter. Someone should see what that child needs. And she went to peek her head out of the door.

And screamed.

On the top step of their doorstep was a tiny wrapped bundle, crying quietly.

Petunia clutched the doorframe, hyperventilating and cried for her husband.

"Vernon! Good God, Vernon, come quick!"

His footsteps came thundering down the stairs, still in his striped pajamas he appeared, breathless.

"What?"

She pointed at the baby.

"What? A baby? Petunia, I don't understand; where did it come from?"

"I don't know! I don't know, Vernon!" she gasped, wringing her hands, a few hours later. They tad taken the baby inside, and he had instantly fallen asleep.

"We can't keep it!" bellowed Vernon. "We have a child! Phone the police! Get some investigators on this! Get someone to identify that handwriting!"

Petunia felt the muscles in her cheeks tighten.

"What handwriting?" she asked, desperately.

"On the letter!" he demanded, looking as though she was insane. And he held up a letter in his hand.

"You didn't read it?" asked Petunia, springing to her feet. "Why not, Vernon?"

"It's addressed to you." He said quietly. And he handed her the letter. She blinked in shock as she stared at her own name, written in a fine thin script on yellow parchment.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the seal.

To Mrs. Petunia Dursley,

On this night, October 31, your sister and her husband, Lily and James Potter were killed at their place of residence in Goderic's Hollow. I say this with as much sensitivity as I can. They were murdered by a dark wizard, Lord Voldemort by means of a wand. This child that you have unexpectedly found upon your doorstep is the only survivor of the Potter family, the only one who has ever survived the killing curse in the history of all wizards. When the Dark Lord cast his spell upon Harry, the curse rebounded, and the Dark Lord is gone. However, I fear that this may not be the end of him. Harry is not safe here in the wizarding world (and I have no doubt that he is a wizard) There is something special about this boy. Naturally, I assume you are grieving, shocked and angry, but I tell you now with greatest urgency, that you must look after Harry James Potter. Raise him as your own. Love him. Because the ones who loved him are gone.

There is some information I have to pass on to you, and you alone. Lily and James were not killed by accident. The Dark Lord knew of a prophecy, made long before Harry was born. This prophecy spelled out that a child born in July would be the enemy of the Dark lord himself. From the time he learned of the prophecy, the Dark Lord has hunted the Potters. I tried to protect them by means of a Fidelius Charm, a charm that shields someone from their enemies until the person who has designated themselves "Secret Keeper" has given up the secret. You should know that they were betrayed by one of their dearest friends.

Furthermore, while the Dark Lord may be gone, there will always be those who followed him who will seek to destroy this child, and he himself may one day return. I fear this day greatly, and it is with a heavy hand that I say that I know it will come.

Now, you must know of why Harry lived.

Lily, your sister, died before the curse was tried on Harry. It is my theory that she protected him, perhaps even cast herself in front of him before the curse hit. I am not sure. However, if I am right (and to risk boasting, I am nearly never wrong) Lily's blood was what protected Harry, her love. It is for this reason that I send Harry to you. Her blood is yours, and hopefully her love as well.

I ask this of you now. Give Harry a home until he reaches his seventeenth birthday, so that he might be safe. It is essential that you do as I ask. The Dark lord will return, and when he does, his wrath will be terrible. Both of our worlds will be at war.

I will know if you refuse.

And I will be forced to take action with several of my associates if I need to.

I hope you will become as good a family as any,

With greatest thanks,

Albus Percival Wulferic Brian Dumbledore.