Welcome to my new story! This idea has been festering in my head for a while and I'm glad I was able to get this out. Let's see where it goes together, shall we?
As of now, I don't plan to make a pairing - and you'll see why soon enough - but it's not out of the realm of possibilities just yet. Anyway, enjoy this new story as I hope this soon to unravel plot will be revealed as something yet to be done!
Please Review. :)
The World Through Emerald Eyes
Chapter One
As the lights on Privet Drive flickered on one by one, two shadows disappeared with pop in the night. But it was when the loud reeve of an engine sounded that the lights of number four came to life.
"Hello?" a suspicious voice of a woman sounded through the crack of her front door. The shine from within illuminated the porch of her home. When no reply was returned, a head was stuck out to glance around. It was a long face, not one commonly considered pretty – or even average. In fact, many people would consider her common or below standard. But it was her eyes that, if caught for more than a moment, would earn a double look.
Petunia Dursley was a sour faced woman who was often compared to a horse in whispers of neighborhood children. Tall and skinny with a curt tone, it was her eyes that were often overlooked; gray with hints of lovely emerald green melted in. Her gaze, while cautious and commonly accusatory, held a warmth of love and acceptance. Her demeanor hid any sort of kindness her eyes might express, and because of that, she was usually judged much too quickly.
"What's wrong, love?" came a male voice, deeper and over-cultured as if to express superiority to everyone else.
The woman's lips pursed tightly as her head turned left, then right. "Nothing, darling. Just delinquents," she surmised, voice chilled with disapproval.
"Now, Petunia, it's just young boys playing fun. I used to do it too as a boy." The owner of the voice was a large man, presumably about six feet and severely over weight. He had a large mustache and resembled a whale. He, like his wife, was also talked about by the children and their parents.
The couple were notorious for their clean home and cared for yard. Petunia Dursley's flowers were the best outside a top dollar boutique. Her husband, a Mr. Vernon Dursley, was high in his company at Grunnings and up for another promotion. His checks paid for their new car, and the charity donations made routinely to the church and hospitals. Despite their looks, they were looked upon highly in their community, something the Dursley's were proud of.
"Well, it's not polite, Vernon," Petunia replied and crossed her arms over his chest, the pink bathrobe snug around her odd frame.
"It's nothing, Pet. I'll have a talk with some of the men in the company. I'm sure some of them have sons who know what's going on. But truly, it's just their right of passage." The large man carelessly dismissed the whole act, but a smile tugged at his lips, unseen under his mustache.
The woman sighed. "You're right." She looked down on reflex to ensure that no dirt got on her night slippers when she spotted a bundle of blankets lying in a particular shape. She gasped. "Vernon!" she cried, urgent, but trying to remain soft.
Vernon's form lumbered over to see over his wife's shoulder and his eyes widened. "Petunia?" He asked, at a loss.
Petunia didn't hesitate. With new – and still developing – motherly instincts, she scooped up the bundle, and sure enough, there was a small whimper. "Vernon. Vernon! It's a baby," she cried in outrage and disbelief.
The pale skin of an infant was the first thing Petunia glanced at, followed by chubby cheeks, slightly blue-ing lips, and black hair. A curious, thunderbolt-shaped scar marred the baby's forehead.
"His lips! They're practically blue!" Vernon erupted. "Take him inside and warm the lad up. I'll call the police."
Petunia was already in the house by the time her husband's words reached her ears. Who would abandon a child on a doorstep in the middle of the night? A cold night at that! And without so much curtacy as to ring the doorbell! If the loud sound of a motorbike hadn't awoken her, who's to say the baby would have been found before morning? Her new instincts cried and raged at the injustice done to this child. "Who are his parents?" she asked, more to no one than to her husband who waddled to the phone.
"I don't know, but I'll be sure to find out! What kind of neighborhood did we move in to?" he demanded.
"Shh!" Petunia hushed him immediately, one hand moving to press the blanket closer to the baby's ears to muffle the shout. "Don't wake him." Her own son slept soundly throughout most nights, so she wasn't worried about him waking.
The action of moving the covering caused a rustling sound and when Petunia looked, she saw a letter fluttering to the ground. Her eyes took in the address and hurried to call Vernon off his rampage. "Stop! Don't call the police!"
Vernon glanced at his lovely wife. "What's wrong, Pet?" The phone sat in his hand, at a halt.
She glanced down and after a moment, picked up the letter, careful to cradle the child in her arms safely. She stared at the letter for a long time.
"Petunia?"
Her eyes dragged up to meet her husband's gaze. Almost deathly slow, she turned the letter over and showed him the front.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley
Number four Privet Drive
Surrey, England
The phone fell to the floor with a thud. "What the ruddy hell is going on?!"
Petunia shook her head absently, mouth caught open. A sudden chill roused the air and a harsh shudder took her by surprise. "I don't like this, Vernon," she she whispered. "Something doesn't feel right." Her voice was pitched slightly higher with fear.
The baby in her arms began to move around restlessly and she automatically started lightly rocking the infant, cooing softly in a calming manner, all the while staring at the note her husband finally took from her dead hand, scared and anxious.
Vernon's large mustache twisted on his lips as his small eyes glared beedily down at the letter. "We should call the police," he told his wife again, looking up. "They'll want to see the letter unopened, otherwise they might think we have something to do with this whole thing."
She shook her head. "We can't! A letter to us is incriminating in itself!" Their reputation, Dudley's future, their lives, all suddenly tossed away because someone dropped off a baby. The neighbors would talk nonstop about how the Dursley's had to know some unsavory people and how they weren't the people they were thought to be.
Petunia's mind rebelled at the horror inside her.
"You're right," Mr. Dursley stated at last. "But we should open in – just to know what's going on!" he rushed on when Petunia opened her mouth to object. "If there's anything bad, we burn it and tell the police the child was abandoned here with no information."
She bit her lip at she gently bounced the baby in her arms, careful not to wake him. "I really don't like this," she reiterated in a mutter, but made no move to stop her husband from opening the paper.
"Not even good paper," Vernon roughly commented. "Feels like they made it in their backyard." He huffed. "Can't even manage –" The words died in his throat and his face paled before turning a ferocious red. "What is this nonsense!?" he demanded, enraged.
His wife had no time to hush her husband as he reached over and roughly handed the paper – old parchment really, to his wife. She managed to grab it before her husband lost his temper and began raging in their living-room.
She hadn't noticed at first, what with the years having taken many things from her mind, but when she saw the neat handwriting, stylized so singularly by one person, her heart stuttered in her chest. It was Albus Dumbledore's handwriting. She remembered from childhood, that single moment of weakness when she sent the 'headmaster' a letter requesting to join her sister at his 'school.' The man had promptly replied and for a moment, Petunia had thought he had accepted. But it had all been for naught.
Polite and to the point, Albus had gently informed her that only children who were magical could go to Hogwarts and that, as a muggle, she wouldn't have been allowed past the defenses of the school.
The gentle let down had crushed her along with any possible acceptance of her sister's placement there. They had always been close and Petunia had loved her sister dearly, but she couldn't stand how easy it had been for Lily to abandon her. It was still a hard blow and her heart ached in a hollow memory.
She and Lily hardly spoke anymore. In fact, the last time they had seen each other was when Lily had come by to personally deliver an invitation for her and Vernon to attend her and James' wedding.
Petunia would have gone, truly she would, if only it hadn't been held in the wizarding world. Of course their parents went and were excited for their youngest, but Petunia couldn't manage to do it. Lily had explained how she and James had managed to get clearance for her muggle family to attend her wedding since they had decided to do it the traditional way of her fiance's culture.
Again, Lily had chosen the ways of her new life over her old one. She had practically given up living anywhere Petunia could go on a regular basis, and Petunia was furious. She wouldn't stand for being second place to everything in Lily's mind. If she wasn't good enough to be put first in front of those – those freaks, then so be it.
And yet, here it was. The names Lily and James seemed to jump out at her from random places in the letter and she felt sick.
She started to read.
November 1, 1981
Dear Vernon and Petunia Dursley,
It is to my great sorrow that I am left to inform you of the deaths of your sister Lily, and her husband James last night.
For the past year, both Lily and James had been in hiding as the war with Voldemort got worse as it was believed he would seek out their son. While battling the darker forces for the past few years had kept them from contacting you, I was certain you would want to know what has been happening.
While great Aurors, the couple chose to go into hiding when they discovered Voldemort would have a particular interest in their yet unborn son Harry James Potter. The last year was difficult for them, raising their son in such limited and harsh circumstances, but I assure you, they were as happy as they could be, given the situation.
They spent the last year of their lives loving young Harry. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. The man believed to be their best friend, Sirius Black, was a Death Eater; a follow of Voldemort, and told him of their location.
They fought valiantly to the end, I can promise you that. While it is no consolation, I feel it imperative you know that.
It wasn't enough, however. On October 31st, Voldemort stormed you sister's home and killed both James and Lily. He had turned his wand on Harry, only to find him protected be old magic your sister enacted. Voldemort fell and Harry survived.
Harry has nowhere to go. In their wills, Lily and James left Harry to Mr. Black who is now on the run. I'm not sure how much you know about their friend Remus Lupin, but due to circumstance, I don't believe him fit to take in Harry. That leaves only you, Harry's closest family by blood.
Harry is being hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived in our world, a hero in every sense. It is unsafe for him to be here at this time as there are still followers of Voldemort who would seek to do him harm. It would be best if he were left in your care in the muggle world where no one would think to look for him.
The magic Lily did last night protected Harry and now that protection resides with him always within his blood. When you take him in, wards will activation over your home and keep you safe from Death Eaters. I also took the initiative to add some of my own upon arrival. No one will be able to hurt Harry or your family whilst you live here. Nothing magical that I haven't personally approved of will be able to enter your home.
I ask that you please look after Harry and tell him where he comes from; how his parents didn't die in vain and how they loved him very much.
I once more sincerely express my condolences for your loss.
With great sorrow,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts
Petunia couldn't even hear the blood rushing in her veins. Her eyes were clouded in tears and an all enveloping depression to hold. Her body was cold and rapidly feeling empty entirely as grief built.
"Petunia?" she heard from what seemed like far away.
Her head turned mechanically towards the voice of her husband.
"Oh love, don't cry." He walked up to his wife and wrapped his arms around her. He made sure he didn't suffocate the child still in her arms.
It was then that Petunia let herself go and broke into sobs. "M-my sister! Vernon! Th-ey took my sister fr-from me! Lily, sweet- sweet Lily!" she cried and bean to hiccup. An anger festered in the back of her mind. Anger at the world that took her sister from her, anger at her sister who willing gave up her old life for the new and exciting one. And anger at the child in her arms, her nephew that was the product of that life and the personification of everything that world was.
Her eyes flickered down to the infant against her will and to her surprise, the child was awake. But more shocking, was the bright emerald green gaze that seemed to burn into her. Eyes that belonged to her sister. All at once, that anger was gone. Grief still ate at her, but she fought it.
Harry watched Petunia right back and didn't seem to make a sound. Instead, when Vernon pulled away to see what had stopped his wife's tears, his little arms reached up towards her and a happy gurgle left his lips.
With another sob, Petunia changed her hold on the infant and brought him to her shoulder in a well practiced move. "Harry, I'm so sorry," she told him through her tears and clung to the baby as tight as she dared. "I'm so, so sorry."
She hadn't realized she had dropped the letter until she saw Vernon lean over to pick it up. He looked it over, taking more time than before and she realized he hadn't read all of it before.
She hadn't kept her sister's freak life from her husband and he hadn't liked it either, but agreed that as long as it was kept from him, he would deal with it. Years later, things had been great, only strained when any correspondence – as little as it was – had arrived from Lily.
She watched Vernon cautiously, unsure how he would take the full news. She feared for her nephew, her life with her husband, her own son, sleeping soundly and unaware in his crib. When Vernon looked up, apparently finished, and met her eyes, she deflated in relief. There was no hate in his eyes.
"What do we do?" she asked him, still fearful of both the future and the current predicament. Steeling herself, she told him, "I won't give up Harry."
Vernon sighed. "Then we keep him." He shook his head. "I don't like this headmaster character, Petunia. Not one bit. Dumping this baby on a doorstep without enough consideration or care as to ring the ruddy doorbell. Or hell, even to wait and explain this to us in person! I can't say that I trust his judgment at all as to say who could enter our home. We don't need his permission or his interference!" He moved over to the table and picked up the phone.
Petunia watched him put the phone back on it's charger and pick up the pad and pen beside it.
"Tomorrow we put this place up for sale. I won't have any of those freaks in our lives and I don't like them knowing where we live. Grunnings has a branch in London that offers larger wages anyway." He marked something down on the pad.
Petunia's jaw dropped. "But you said you would never be caught dead living in London."
He glanced at her before refocusing on what he was doing. "There are more people there and they'd be less likely to interfere if there were more people around. Didn't you say they don't want to be exposed? The Statute of Whatnot, right? They'd think twice before stopping by. Besides, it's probably better for Dudley to grow up in a larger place where he can spread his wings."
Vernon's mustache twitched as he continued. "We also go to the police and report finding a baby on our doorstep. We can't very well tell him that he's our nephew without proof." He nodded to himself. "We'll officially adopt him. Those freaks should have nothing to do with my family and if he's going to be with us, he'll be raised right. Like a Dursley."
Petunia was crying again as she watched her husband make plans for their future. Sometimes she grew complacent with her life, comfortable and routinely happy. But it was times like this when she saw the man she fell in love with again, so obvious and there. A man that loved her and wanted to take care of them both. Now three of them and soon to be four.
Vernon Dursley had a big heart even if it was well hidden.
"After that, we get settled in our new home with Harry and live normally with two sons. We'll raise them well and not have to deal with any problems from them."
"But what about that school? The Headmaster is bound to come looking for him." Petunia couldn't think such a manipulative man would leave them alone.
Vernon sighed and closed his eyes as he rotated his shoulder. "We'll deal with that when it comes." He hesitated and looked back at his wife. "We shouldn't keep his past from him," he began, clearly grudgingly. "Not if it's going to be affecting his future which in turn is our future. But not until he's older."
Petunia smiled a watery grin. "I agree."
Vernon smiled gently at his wife and walked over to pull her into another hug. "Don't worry Petunia, dear. We'll work this all out. It will be fine. We'll be fine."
And she believed him.