eehighargylesocks: I think that at that point in her life, Petunia understood a bit. I think she would have had to, living with a witch in her family. I also wrote the letter from Dumbledore in as much detail as I did, because it is my belief that he had to tell her everything so she wouldn't abandon Harry. She had to have some insight into the magnitude of what was happening. What she chose to do with that information is another matter. I think she would have suppressed it as much as she could. Thanks for the review!

Petunia held the letter in shaking hands, and looked at her husband who's face was white.

"We'll have to keep him, Vernon." She said quietly. Immediately, her husband was blustering "WHAT? Petunia! He's not our son! Some random crackpot leaves him on our doorstep, and we're the goddamned Salvation Army?! We have a child of our own! Send him to an orphanage! Get him out of my house!"

"We can't!" said Petunia, her voice steady. "He has nowhere else to go, Vernon." Her eyes were desperate. "We can't let him go."

"And why not?!" demanded her husband. "You read the letter! That boy is abnormal. A danger to our own son, Petunia."

"I know." She said. "But, this is out of our hands. We'll have to take him in." Vernon continued to look astounded, as though she had hit him hard over the head with something very heavy.

"They're dead, Vernon. Lily and James…murdered. He survived…" Vernon's face crumpled in a frown.

"What if whoever killed them knows we have him? We could be killed!"

"It's in the letter, Vernon." Vernon put his hands over his face, and sat down heavily on the couch.

"We don't have to like him." She said in a louder voice. "But he has to stay here, Vernon." His eyes were popping, his face turning a nasty shade of purple.

"You're mad." He said in a hushed voice. "You're mad and I won't hear of this. The boy doesn't have any right to live here. Fine, we'll keep him, but if he infringes on Dudley's life here, he will be sorry." And he stormed upstairs and slammed his office door.

Petunia walked over to where Harry slept, still bundled in the armchair, a rather precarious spot of a sleeping baby. She picked him up, and cradled him in her arms, pulling back the folds of cloth that covered his brow. Frowning, she noticed a nasty looking cut on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. It wasn't bleeding. In fact, it seemed to have cauterized on the spot. The child was very small.

She took him upstairs to where her own baby was sleeping still soundly in his crib. Balancing under one arm, she stooped and picked up Dudley, replacing him with Harry in the crib.

"Come on, Duddie." She cooed as he opened bleary eyes. "Let's have breakfast." And she carried him downstairs.

Looking at her son, rubbing the sleep from his blue eyes, she realized her husband was right. Her sister's son was dangerous, dangerous to her and dangerous to Dudley. There was only one way to keep Dudley safe, and that was to raise Harry as normally as he could be raised. He deserved nothing better than Dudley. He would not have special privileges. But he also would never know of his true identity. He couldn't. Already, she despised the fact that her sister's child would be living in her house for seventeen years. Already, she knew what kind of a boy he would grow up to be. He already had his father's roguish looks. Lily had been one thing, but that Potter…

And now, he was hers.

She thought these things. She thought them for the years after that night she had found him on her doorstep. They didn't acknowledge his birthday (why bother?) or buy him things (he didn't need them!) but still…when Harry fell on the pavement outside of their house while playing and cut open his knee, it was Petunia that picked him up, and bandaged his cut. It was she who had held him for a brief moment and told him he was going to be all right.

And just years ago, when Harry and Dudley had come back late at night, Dudley half dead…She had no doubt that Harry did not do anything to Dudley. He had explained everything that had happened in the kitchen, but she didn't want to believe him. She didn't want to believe any of it. But regardless of what she believed, she knew that Harry had saved her son's life…his soul. The crossover of the dementors into their life was the most frightening thing she had ever experienced. They were not safe. But something about Harry being there hd made them safer. Watching him stand before her in that kitchen, owls swooping in, she had realized that something more than just magic tricks was what was destined for her nephew.

She now stood, in front of the door, her husband and son putting all of their belongings in the car that had been magically enhanced to fit everything. It really was the end, she thought as she gazed around their hallway, devoid of any more pictures, revealing the tears in the wallpaper. And though she wished it were not true with all her heart, petunia knew she would never return to this house, this house that had been her family's home.

She gazed now at Harry, who leaned against the banister of the staircase, his hands in his pockets, his trunk and his owl sitting beside him. On a normal day, she would have reprimanded him and told hi to get himself off of their furniture, but it didn't even cross her mid today.

"Are you quite ready?" asked Dedalus Diggle, who was hauling Dudley's racing bike out the door with much difficulty. "We should be leaving soon!"

"Er…right then." Muttered Vernon, picking up two large suitcases. "Well, good-bye, boy" he snapped at Harry without meeting his eyes. Harry shrugged and said

"Bye."

Vernon and Dudley carried their things outside leaving only Petunia, standing in front of her own suitcase, staring at Harry.

It struck her now that she would probably never see him again. Whatever he had to do, it didn't involve her or Vernon or Dudley, and probably never would. He looked at her, his eyes, so like Lily's.

She wanted to say something to him. Perhaps to shake his hand, to hold him. To thank him for saving Dudley almost three years before. She never had thanked him….

He gave her a small nod, which she returned, and Vernon grabbed her by the arm and led her outside.

It was with a semi-heavy heart that she sat in the backseat next to Dudley and Hestia Jones. Vernon drove, and Dedalus Diggle sat next to him, giving directions to wherever they were going. She realized that she didn't know where they were going….She didn't even know where they were supposed to live!

They drove for what seemed like hours. The landscape passed by quickly, and Petunia found herself getting a headache. She reached down between her feet for her suitcase, and rummaged around for her ibuprofin. The car jostled as it hit a bump, and her hand slipped and touched something else.

It was something soft and made of cloth. She frowned and pulled out what seemed to be a blanket. It was cream colored, and sort of ratty, not the kind of thing she would have kept in her scrupulously clean house.

And then she knew.

It was a baby blanket, but not Dudley's. His had been fleecy, colorful, and warm. Harry's was ratty and torn in two places. It was the same blanket he had been in when Petunia had found him on her doorstep almost seventeen years ago. She held it up to her face and sniffed it. It smelled musty, but she had kept it in her trunk all this time. How curious, she thought. It almost made her sad.

"All right, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, we have arrived" squeaked Dedalus, hopping out of the side door. "Welcome to your new home. It's very safe, covered in all the latest enchantments and security spells." Petunia stepped out of the car and inhaled sharply.

She was home. The house looked exactly the same as the one on Privet Drive, down to the rose bushes growing in front of the living room window, and the large plastic number "4" on the left hand side of the front door. They were in a suburban neighborhood that looked the same as Privet Drive, small cars going down the street, neighbors going for a walk.

"But…" she stammered. "But this is…"

"Wonderful, isn't it?" asked Dedalus proudly. "We would have let you stay except the Dark Lord would go straight to you first for information about Harry. Your new address is Number 4, Portsmouth Drive, Essex. I trust the house is to your liking; we did take every pain to find you a house very much like your old one."

"Shall we go in?" asked Hestia, looking somewhat disconcerted at the look on the Dursley's faces.

"Erm…right." Said Vernon gruffly. And he began to unload the car.

Upon walking into the hallway, Petunia gasped. The wallpaper was exactly the same as at Privet Drive, as was the carpeting and the little furniture that was there.

Several hours later, everything was unpacked. The television, the kitchen supplies, the table, beds, everything. Dedalus and Hestia had wanted to use magic to make things move faster, but Petunia and Vernon wouldn't hear of it. It took about six hours to unload everything. Anything they had left at Privet Drive was magically already there.

Sitting on their couch, right where it had been in Little Whinging, Petunia thought of her son and of Harry. Where was he now? What if he died along the way? It was horrible to have these thoughts hit her now. She, who had never really cared for the boy, suddenly realized that his success meant everything. She wished she could have given him some words of encouragement and gratitude when he left. Understanding his quest was something her husband and her son would never do, but she did understand. Their worlds were not so different. Every day, people suffered and died. Every day people lost themselves to higher powers, but no one really ever did anything about it. Harry had chosen to do something about it. And it was now that she appreciated, for the first time ever, being his aunt.

As these thoughts danced across her mind, she didn't notice Hestia and Dedalus draw their wands.

"It's like we never left." said Dudley quietly, looking through the curtains to the street. "It's just like I remember."

"And that's how it should be, Dudley" said Hestia calmly, and nodded to Dedalus.

Good luck, Harry, Petunia thought. Stay strong. You deserved far better than us.

And a single tear ran out of her so typically dry eyes as Hestia and Dedalus said,

"OBLIVIATE!"

"Lovely day, dear." Said Vernon, taking a sip of his coffee, sitting in his armchair in front of the television. "England playing tonight?"

"I think so, Vernon" she said absently, putting the last curls of frosting on the cake she made for after dinner

. "Dudders home yet?"

"No, he's off for tea. I'm not sure where."

"I'm he's adjusted so well to this neighborhood." Said Vernon, flipping through his newspaper. "Everything worked out like magic."

Petunia gave a small laugh, and placed a cherry in the center of the cake. Looking at her husband she said,

"Darling, there's no such thing as magic."