The Plight of Petunia
Petunia Dursley nee Evans was proud of the life that she had built for herself with her husband and her son. Since she was a young girl she had dreamed of living in the perfect house, with a devoted husband, and a beautiful child. She had even imagined that her younger sister would live nearby and the two would have weekly dinners where their children would bond as cousins. But her childhood dreams had been shattered when an owl came through their kitchen window. At thirteen years of age she discovered that the reason for all the strange occurrences around her eleven-year-old sister was due to magic. Her sister was a Witch. Petunia and their parents were Muggles. The line between the two sisters had been created in an instant never to be crossed.
Petunia could never stand the tricks her sister had played on her but had always forgiven her bright little sister. Her very first memory was of those green eyes locking onto hers just moments after they opened for the first time. Her breath had been stolen away and she vowed at that moment to protect her little sister with all that she had.
With the announcement that explained all the strangeness, Lily's tricks became unforgivable. What was just as unforgivable was her parents' failure to curb Lily's antics. She could still recall her parents urging her to forgive a then fourteen-year-old Lily for turning her teacup into a fat, squirming rat - insisting that it had been a harmless trick. Petunia refused to accept any apology and from that moment forward she nurtured resentment in her heart.
...
The next years had been strained despite Lily's attempts to mend the divide between the sisters. Largely due to Petunia's refusal to be home whenever Lily was on holiday. Instead Petunia spent the days with her friends and when she turned seventeen and met Vernon Dursley - why, there was hardly ever a time that she was home. It wasn't until Lily brought home James Potter that the sisters spent time together again. That dinner the conversation was stilted. James had been warned about behaving himself in front of Vernon just as Vernon had been warned that the younger couple was strange and unpredictable. They, Mr. and Mrs. Evans, should have predicted that the dinner would end in tears but then hindsight is always 20/20.
Their next encounter wouldn't be until Petunia's wedding day, when out of respect for their departed parents, Petunia invited Lily and James as guests. Lily had gone, upset that she hadn't been considered to be part of the wedding party but determined to make amends. If only Petunia had been of the same mind. Instead, after snide remarks from Vernon, Lily and James beat a quick retreat.
...
Petunia found herself sitting at her kitchen table, hand resting on her son's temple as he slept quietly when an owl appeared. She had shakily taken the letter and opened it to see a birth announcement. There was a moment when she smiled at the irony that they both had borne a son first. She held the smile long enough to take note of the boy's name, Harry James Potter, and then remembered the fuss Lily had made at her wedding before she crumpled up the parchment.
...
On October 31st, Petunia had awoken with an uneasiness that she had never felt before. She spent the day peering out her windows and obsessively cleaning between feeding and entertaining her son. The feeling refused to depart until she awoke the next morning fully intent on setting out the milk bottles only to find a basket containing a sleeping baby. Despite her ringing shriek, the baby hardly fussed and realizing that her nosy neighbors would soon be peering out the doors and windows she grabbed the baby and headed inside.
Lifting the baby out of the basket she observed a lighting bolt cut on his forehead, red, inflamed and undoubtedly recent. There was a crinkle of paper that she hardly noticed because at that very moment the boy's eyes opened. They were a brilliant green that she had seen once before and as she crumpled to the floor, baby held close to her chest, she knew that her little sister was gone.
...
She hadn't needed to read the letter, although Vernon had, to know what had happened and what was expected of her. Vernon had fussed about an extra mouth to feed but Petunia had only to stare at him until he quietly acquiesced. Vernon had gone to work after bringing their son, Dudley, downstairs and Petunia faced the difficulty of caring for two boys. Perhaps difficulty was the wrong word to use, Harry was a pleasant baby who never cried but Dudley hated his mother's split attention. It took two weeks for Dudley to accept the presence of his cousin - it was the stuff of Petunia's childhood dreams to watch her son and nephew playing and babbling together. As they grew the boys had pushed each other in the best of ways - she could recall rather fondly watching Harry pulling Dudley to his feet and his first steps.
But when Harry was two years old, things changed - the cookie jar would often be found seated between the boys and toys would appear in the living room that she knew had been secured in their shared second floor bedroom. Petunia was worried - she knew that her sister had been talented, as had her husband - was her nephew the same? Ignorance would be Petunia's best defense until she could no longer ignore the strange occurrences.
...
It was precisely one month before Dudley's third birthday. Petunia knew this because Marge had sent him a gift ahead of her planned visit with instructions that he be allowed to open it immediately. The gift had been a plush dog bearing a strong resemblance to Marge's favored pet. Dudley had become instantly enamored of the stuffed dog, and Harry behaved most unexpectedly. He pulled the dog from his cousin only to have his cousin yank it back. Petunia had been in the kitchen preparing lunch when she heard a shrill cry. She rushed to the living room to see what she had hoped to never see. Dudley had a tight hold on the plush toy and Harry, face red, made a grasping motion for it. The toy flew so quickly from Dudley's arms that the boy found himself falling forward. Moving forward to stop his fall she could only watch as Dudley landed loudly on his face and distinct crack sounded in the air.
Harry held the toy limply in his arms as his cousin heaved himself to his rump, blood streaking his face until Petunia clamped onto his arms. The toy fell as Petunia led him to a cupboard under the stairs. She yanked the door open and shoved the boy inside. In a daze, Petunia returned to her son and left.
...
When Petunia returned home after an exhausting afternoon at the emergency clinic, she found Vernon waiting in the living room. The floor was spotless and she could smell takeout coming from the kitchen.
"Boys alright?"
When he heard nothing in response he turned to see Petunia holding a sleeping Dudley, a splint over his nose.
"Where's the boy?"
"In the cupboard."
He was bewildered and then belligerent when Petunia explained, in a quiet, detached voice what she had seen that afternoon.
"He stays there. He's not to play with our Dudley anymore."
Petunia nodded in response and carried Dudley to his room. There she held her son close and wondered why the boy had not yet cried. She wondered why her sister had gone so soon. She wondered if there was a chance the boy could be normal.
Petunia had dreamed of a happy house, husband and child. She had dreamed of weekly lunches with her dear younger sister. But then her sister died and her nephew was dangerous. She loved her son and would not have him put in danger. When the boy's hand slipped from hers in the crowded museum she did not turn around. She only held her son's hands tighter and walked away. She turned around once to see an animated little girl speaking to her nephew and she knew that he would be all right. He would be fine. Dudley tugged at her hand and with one final glance backwards she let the crowd come between them before she lifted her boy and made her way home.
Author's Note: This is meant as a companion piece to my current WIP Cuentos de Lagunas. I had always been curious about what led Petunia to treat Harry as she did and this is my take on what prompted it.