"Mrs. Dursley, I am sorry about your loss, but there is the matter of Lily Potter's infant son," the social worker told the crying woman. The social worker, a twenty four year old woman, was nervous. This was her first real case, the relocation of a young boy. She sat on the Dursley's couch, shifting through her file of information as if it would provide answers to how to force Harry Potter onto his relatives.

Petunia Dursley felt a deep pain in her heart. She gripped the arm of the chair she was sitting in, still not used to the news of her sister's death. Lily and she had been distant the past few years, due to Lily running away with her boyfriend at the young age of seventeen, then having the baby not much later. Petunia wiped her eyes and tried to keep a steady gaze at the young red haired girl in front of her, who kept nervously glancing at her file of information, "What about him?"

The social worker tugged at her skirt, "You are the child's only living relative we were able to track down. We do not know where the husband's parents are, nor if they are even still alive. Mrs. Dursley, if you don't take the infant he'll have to go into foster care."

Petunia should have known that this was coming, but she must have blocked it out from her mind. She had arranged the funeral for both Lily and her husband. She had picked out the caskets and closed bank accounts. She had sold their small house and paid movers to box everything up and donate the possessions. She had done all this, yet she hadn't taken the time to consider Harry Potter. Petunia's childhood had been full of Lily's rebellion and now her adulthood would be centered around the product of her recklessness. However, Petunia knew she had no choice, "We'll take the baby."

The social worker beamed, delighted that her first real task as a social worker had been successful, "Excellent! I would like to bring Harry as soon as possible, but you will have at least a week before the paperwork goes through. Are you able to wait until then?"

Numbly, Petunia nodded. Already, she was despairing at the costs of readying the house for another baby. The social worker passed a few sheets of information to Petunia, then let herself out of the house.

Petunia still felt empty as the day went on. She played with Dudley, trying to figure out ways to inform him that the world would no longer be centered around him. She had tried so hard to provide the toddler with a childhood unlike hers, but now that dream was dying. She didn't have the heart to tell him. She went shopping with Dudley throwing a tantrum the whole way. Normally she would snap at him but now she could only wipe his tears and allow him to scream.

When Vernon arrived home, he held her as she told him the news. He didn't quite understand Petunia's bitterness about allowing another child in the house; in fact, Vernon had been considering opening the discussion about a little brother or sister. While adopting his nephew wasn't quite what he had had in mind, he knew he would be able to accept the boy, at least.

"Petunia, we will do our best to provide for this child. You've been grieving for your sister, and now's the chance for you to take care of a little piece of her. He doesn't have to be our son, but he will be a part of this family."

Vernon didn't know this, but these words would set young Harry Potter up for a very distant and damaging childhood.

The baby, as promised, was delivered a week later. Petunia was handed the child by the young social worker as she went over some of the child's information with Petunia and Vernon.

"He was in the car wreck that killed Lily and James. He was injured only slightly. You can see he received a cut on his forehead. As far as we have been told, the scar will remain. Other than that, he is perfectly healthy and should have no lasting damages on the incident. Now, I have some pamphlets about raising adoptive children. It's best that he's so young; he won't remember anything."

Mutely, Petunia nodded as she stared at the baby. He was staring intently at her. His bright green eyes reminded her intensely of her sister. Other than that, Harry didn't resemble Lily in the slightest. She resolved to take care of this baby as well as she could, "Welcome to your new home, Harry."

~0~

The next few years of Harry Potter's life passed uneventfully enough. He wasn't alienated from the family, but he was never quite accepted as a son in Vernon and Petunia's eyes. Dudley was only interested in tormenting Harry, but not even in a brotherly way. Petunia even developed a distant fondness of the boy, but it never grew to the same immense love she had for Dudley.

This disparity manifested in several subtle ways. When the boys were getting ready for school, Petunia would run a brush through young Dudley's hair, but would allow Harry's hair to go in its usual disarray. Both boys had rooms upstairs, yet Dudley's had the air of a loved child, with its cheerful clutter of toys and clothes. Harry's room was sparse, containing only his few books and clothes. Petunia would help Dudley at night with homework at length, but would lose patience with Harry much faster. As the boys grew older, even Vernon's preference for their biological son grew apparent. He would play video games with Dudley to the young boy's heart's content, yet Harry never got the chance to play on Dudley's game systems. Harry had all the basic needs a child requires, yet the lack of love surrounding the child took its toll. Harry was never treated as a son, only as a guest intruding in the Dursley household.

"Aunt Petunia, I'm old enough for you to tell me what really happened to my parents," ten year old Harry asked, his green eyes pleading with his aunt as she was cooking dinner.

Petunia furrowed her brow. This question had become increasingly persistent, "Harry, your parents died in a car crash. You know that."

Harry clenched his fists, "Stop lying to me!"

Petunia slammed the metal spoon into the pot of spaghetti sauce, "Harry Potter, do not accuse me of lying to you. Your parents died in a car wreck and you know it. Now stop with this game or I'll send you to your room without dinner."

Harry screamed. In the end, Vernon was forced to carry the boy upstairs. When Petunia brought his spaghetti up to him later, he was lying on the bed crying, "You hate me because I'm a wizard, don't you?"

Petunia had no idea what to think of this. Harry had always been an imaginative child; she had often seem him in the yard, using a stick as a wand and shouting nonsense. She had dismissed it as typical child play, but now she wasn't so sure.

"Harry, we don't hate you and you know that. Now, you can eat your dinner up here or come down and eat."

He dried his tears and ate his bowl of spaghetti. Petunia figured he was fine and just chalked up his outburst as an imaginative child's way of expressing himself.

Petunia left him in his undecorated bedroom without a hug to console him. While she barely noticed her lack of affection, Harry felt the stirrings of resentment that had become steadily more prevalent.

Harry got up to stare out his window. He knew his Hogwarts letter would come any day now.

~0~

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