Harry,
It's been a very long time since we left you alone at Privet Drive. It's been even longer since we agreed to take you into our home. I can't explain everything Vernon and I did. I can't explain it and I can't justify it, I hope it's enough to know that I regret it now. After they took us to the safe house, we, that is to say, I, had a lot of time to think. You might expect that things were terse and they were, for a while. Eventually we got used it, I suppose. There wasn't much else for us to do.
I know you think I'm a very silly woman and I'm sad to say how right you'd be. There is not much in life I've given much thought to besides what goes on in my home and on my street. It seems I've been rather blind to most of that as well, despite my best efforts to be well informed.
I learned my sister had been murdered by finding you on my doorstep. That was a difficult way to bring you into the family, not that we ever truly did that, I suppose. I can't very well explain the relationship Lily and I had. We were very close as girls, but when she got her letter, it became very hard. I was very jealous of her and she was exceptionally proud of her accomplishment, an accomplishment that, to me, seemed little more than a freak accident. I was wrong to let it come between us, but it did. I regret very much what happened between Lily and I, and I accept most of the blame, but please understand that I was a child when this began. The lines we draw as children aren't easily forgotten. They become a part of you, a routine, and soon it's easier to hate someone you used to love out of habit rather than to forgive them and to forgive yourself.
It was a revelation that came too late, unfortunately, that perhaps I could have made amends for what happened between my sister and I by raising her son like he was my own. But I didn't see that, what I saw instead was a messy haired boy with my sister's eyes, reminding me every time I looked at him of what I let happen. I tried not to hate you, Harry, but it was so much easier to let the wounds of my childhood stay open than to come to terms with what I'd lost and could never regain. Having you made it all so final and I couldn't help but hate you for what you represented. Magic took her away from me and gave me you in return. I didn't see it for what it was. I didn't see a second chance. I saw years of childhood anger and another life I could never truly be a part of.
What it comes down to is just this, I suppose. I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry you were robbed of a family because of death and robbed of the second chance by petty cruelty. I'm sorry.
It's been several months now since we were allowed to return to Privet Drive. They never told us what happened to you, but I hope you're alright. In spite of everything that happened here, I hope you're alright.
With love,
Your Aunt Petunia.
Petunia carefully folded the sheet of stationary and placed in carefully in its envelope. With a practiced hand, she addressed the back.
Mr. H. Potter
The Smallest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Opening a creaky desk drawer, she placed the envelope carefully on a stack all labeled with the same neat penmanship, all bearing the same address.
"Petunia? Dinner?" a voice called up the stairs, pulling her away from her contemplation.
"One moment, Vernon," she answered, shutting the drawer and standing. She gave one last look at the room that once housed her only nephew before closing the door behind her.