It was a bright day outside but the wind was twirling the already fallen leaves. It would start to get colder soon, fall and winter were approaching soon and summer was dying. There set a house on a secluded lane. It was a little larger than the one they owned before. That's how they justified the move to the people who knew them but you really couldn't call those people their friends. It was mid afternoon, when the gracefully and quickly descended into the medium sized garden that was mostly covered by a rather large tree.
The owl went straight to the back door. It was red and the only thing about the house that wasn't strictly normal. The family inside was no strangers to owls appearing at their windows or doors but it had been quite a while since it last had happened. The owl peaked and scratched at the door. A lady with a rather long neck opened the door and the mood changed rapidly. She picked up the owl and fast as she could can carry it inside. She looked around to make sure no one had seen this abnormal interaction even though the backyard was quiet.
The minute she was in the house, it was like her family knew there was something strange afoot and assembled quickly around her. Her very round husband's face turned an unhealthy shade of red and he began to fume under his breath about how he thought all these shenanigans were over. Her son, who had once been as round as his father, was much slimmer now and he had a perplexed look on his face.
The owl was carrying three letters on its legs; two on one and one on the other. There was one addressed to each member of the family and the print was in a familiar scrawl. The owl extended one leg and then another to the woman and she untied the letters. The boy, more like a man, went to the kitchen and gathered some bread and water for the animal. "Why waste OUR food on that wretched thing?" Huffed the large man. "Because it needs it and I want to." Replied the boy, he had grown a bit of a back bone since they had been forced to leave their last house. The owl ate fast and left as soon as possible.
"Petunia, be reasonable and throw those things out" the man tried again. "No, I want to know what they say and if we are finally safe, don't you?" Vernon couldn't argue with her reasoning even though he wanted to with every fiber of his being very large. They each grabbed the letters addressed to themselves and settled in different areas around the house.
Vernon sat his very large bottom on the couch in the living room with a thud. He looked at the letter in disgust. He had thought he was rid of the boy but apparently that dream had ended with theses letters. He ripped at the letter.
Vernon,
I know this letter meets you with disgust. I only write to tell you that you are safe. He is dead and most of his followers are caught or dead as well. The remaining are barely holding on and I don't see why they would bother coming after you when their survival is more important to them now. I have seen evil in its truest form and defeated it. While what you did to me as child will never be acceptable, I no longer hate you. I don't write this to easy you since I know it does not plague your mind; I write it for me. This will be my last communication with you.
Harry Potter
Vernon shook the letter in his hands. How dare that boy write him. Vernon felt that he had only been good to the boy. Hadn't he fed him, clothed him, and given him a place to live for years? Vernon huffed and lifted his massive body from the couch and went to the hall closet and stuffed the letter into the inside pocket of a dress jacket that was much too small for him now and tried to forget that it even happened. They had dinner with Anderson's soon and the other would need to get ready soon. He let the idea of magic leave his mind.
Petunia set herself in her bedroom on their king sized bed, well over sized king. She wasn't so sure about the letters, now that she was alone but she needed to know. She had to know. She peeled back the wax seal took a deep breath and opened the envelope. The parchment had the same handwriting as the outside. It took time to adjust to the writing.
Aunt,
He is dead. The battle is over and he is no longer here. I know about everything. The letters to Dumbledore, don't worry I will keep your secret. I wanted you to know that I you to know that I understand why you hated magic and me. I can't imagine knowing the magical world exist and being stuck on the outside. It must have even incredible painful, probably still is. I didn't write this to pour salt in your wounds. I wanted you to know that Severus never gave up on my mother. He fought for her until her death and continued to love her by keeping me safe. I know that might not mean much to you but I know that you loved her too. No matter how far down you keep it inside you. I know. I hope one day you can forget about the years she was away and remember the young girl, who had the reddest hair and the most brilliant green eyes, and the days you use to play in the sun. I hope that day comes for you. I know she would want you to be happy and know that she always loved you.
Your nephew,
Harry
Petunia sat in still silence and cried a few tears. She couldn't let herself go to pieces right now. They had dinner plans and Vernon would not forgive her if she didn't look her best. She just stared at the wall instead. She couldn't believe everything the letter had said. She knew she didn't know all the details but she could draw her own conclusions. All she could think about was Lily, the sister she had given up years ago, and the tall dark boy who followed her everywhere. A couple of more tears fell down her face. "Petunia! We have dinner plans soon!" Vernon shouted up the stairs. "I know, dear. I'm touching up my makeup now." She replied with the what she hoped was her normal voice. She went into the master bathroom and hid the letter in the back of her makeup drawer, where Vernon should never find it and the. She started to prepare herself.
Dudley went to the backyard to get some peace. He placed himself on the bench under the tree and opened the letter quickly. He didn't know what to expect but he thought it had to be bad.
Dudley,
I know these letters come as a shock but I needed you to know that Voldemort is dead. I hold no grudge towards you, we are all raised to become what our parents want and you filled that mold for him. If we had been born into a different world, if my parents had lived, and if your father was more flexible about people unlike himself; I think we would have been friends but that is not the world we live in. I know now that no matter what that we could never be like that. We have too much of a past that cannot be repaired. No matter how hard me try you will be the privileged boy and I will always be the boy under the stairs. I don't hold it against you. I hope you don't hold it against me for not being able to get over the past.
Your cousin,
Harry
He thought about it for awhile. He didn't hate Harry but it was good to know that Harry didn't hate him either. The past couldn't be changed and Dudley knew that better than most. Dudley tucked the letter into his back pocket and walked inside, after all they had a dinner to get to.
