All day long, Petunia had watched Harry. She didn't know if he noticed it or not, but she didn't really care. It had been… enlightening.

She'd had nothing for the pain except aspirin and she hadn't wanted to accidentally over-dose him as that would mean the hospital and the hospital meant questions she wasn't prepared to answer, so she hadn't given him much more than what the directions said to take. Though it had likely been better than nothing, she held no illusions as to how much pain he had still been in- it was written in the lines etched into his face, how he held himself, and, most tellingly of all, how he moved. He moved as her mother had towards the end of her life, when every move had the pain from arthritis shooting through every nerve. Every time he reached for something, stood up, walked, even shifted his head to look at something, there was a slow deliberateness and hesitancy that spoke of immense pain. But he hadn't said a word. Never once asked for a break, never asked for help to do something, never asked to have less chores for the day, he hadn't even asked for the painkillers; she'd had to be the one to remember that he needed to take them.

She still didn't quite know what to make of realizing that he wasn't willing to bother her with his problem, his need, especially since she knew full well where he had developed this reticence. It was humbling in a way. It also firmed her resolve.

She didn't care for him, still hated his freakish magic, and felt no urge to protect him for his sake. But she wasn't willing to allow someone to go through that much pain under her roof. She was perfectly happy to ignore his existence with the exception of making sure he worked to earn his keep, but it just wasn't in her to allow anyone to suffer the way he was suffering. So she would talk to Vernon. She wasn't stupid enough to tell him to stop- after all, Vernon had always cuffed the boy on occasion, and she knew the boy had deserved those- but she would ask him to back off. And, Vernon being the sensible, loving husband he was, she knew he would listen. Yes she had told Harry she wouldn't talk to Vernon, but it was obvious he was being unreasonable in his fear so she felt no qualms about doing it anyways.

Mind made up, Petunia waited for Vernon to get home.

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Harry was cooking dinner when he heard the door open and shut. He suppressed a shudder and swallowed hard. Vernon was home. Here's hoping tonight was one of those rare nights when Harry went unnoticed. After nights like last night, he usually did, but tonight there was a wild card added into the mix. Aunt Petunia now knew, and Harry had the feeling that she wasn't going to stay silent like he had asked.

He had felt her watching him all day. He didn't know what she was thinking, and so he tried to play things as normal as possible. He hadn't even asked for painkillers, though every inch of him throbbed in a low level agony. He had been beyond shocked when Petunia had come up to him with the next round of painkillers the moment the time limit on the ones he'd already taken was up. Shaking off his thoughts, Harry offered up a prayer that Petunia would keep her promise, and focused his attention back on cooking.

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Petunia waited until dinner was finished and Harry was back up in his room before drawing Vernon into the kitchen so they could talk without Dudley listening in. Vernon was looking at her, patiently waiting for her to speak, so she took a deep breath and started.

"I found Harry this morning; he didn't wake up in time to cook Dudley's breakfast. I had to go up to his room to wake him up. He was unconscious on the floor."

Vernon's face was starting to turn red. She steadied her nerves and kept talking. Or she would have if Vernon hadn't interrupted.

"The stupid freak didn't wake up in time to cook Dudley's breakfast? That lazy pest! I'll teach him to shirk his duties!"

"Vernon!" Petunia was shocked. "Didn't you hear me? He was still unconscious from how badly you beat him last night! No one would have woken up in time to cook Dudley's breakfast after that! You can't do that again. I understand that sometimes he deserves a hard cuff to the head for being especially bad, but no one deserves what you did to him last night. I want you to stop."

Vernon gave her his best patient look. "Pet, he's a freak. He's got that freak magic of his, and if we don't come down on him hard for it, what's to stop him from going after one of us or, worse, Dudley? He deserves it."

"No, he doesn't, Vernon. He didn't even do any magic yesterday. Now stop."

Petunia watched her husband turn from pink to purple in a flash as he barreled up to her, a wild light in his eye. "THIS IS MY HOUSE! I WILL DO WHATEVER I SEE FIT IN IT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!!"

For the first time since she had met him, Petunia looked into her husband's eyes and felt fear. Swallowing hard, she nodded, then watched as Vernon stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding Petunia walked to a chair on legs that barely held her weight and sank into it.

She hadn't listened. Harry had begged her not to say anything and she hadn't listened. Now, whatever condition she found him in come morning was going to be her fault. Shaking with a combination of fear, regret, and guilt, Petunia tried to get a handle on herself so she could go back in to sit with Dudley and wait until Vernon went to bed to go to sleep herself.

She had felt many emotions for her nephew over the years, but only yesterday had she first felt pity. Now she could add two more to the list: regret, and the beginnings of empathy. Getting up from the chair and making her way from the kitchen to the living room, Petunia waited in dread for the morning and what it would bring.

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Petunia knocked softly on Harry's door before opening it, bracing herself for what she would see. She was sick at what she found. Harry was tied facedown to his bed, naked, his back and legs were shredded, and there was blood everywhere.

"Oh, God, Harry." Moaning, Petunia rushed to his side. "Harry? Harry, come on sweetheart, wake up for me now. Please, Harry, wake up." When she got no response, Petunia reached out and laid a hand as gently as she could on the least bruised part of his arm that she could find and shook him softly. "Harry? Can you wake up for me now? Come on Harry, wake up, please." A thrill of relief and joy ran through her as Harry stirred. "That's a good boy. Wake up." She couldn't help her smile as her nephew blinked open groggy green eyes. Relieved he was waking up, Petunia reached out to smooth a lock of hair out of his eyes, but was shocked when Harry flinched away from her with a whimper, yanking hard on his bindings.

"Oh, Harry, shh. It's okay, I won't hurt you. Vernon's gone, you're safe now. Shh, it's okay. You're safe." Petunia kept her voice as soft as she could as Harry slowly relaxed and more awareness filtered into his eyes.

"Aun' Petunia?" his voice was scratchy. "Wha…?"

"It's okay, Harry. Vernon's gone now, you're safe. I'm going to untie you, alright? Don't worry, you'll be okay." Keeping a sharp eye on her nephew for another negative reaction, Petunia reached for the rope binding his hands. Once she had his arms free, Petunia move to release his legs. As soon as both were free, Harry curled into a fetal position, moaning at the fire that sparked along his nerves. Harry's curling up and tortured moan were the last straw in Petunia's mind. Uncomfortable questions be damned, her nephew needed a hospital.

"Just stay here, Harry. I'm calling an ambulance, you need a doctor." Petunia was moving to stand when Harry's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist in an ironclad grip, halting her movement.

"No. You can't. No one can know."

Surprised at the sudden alertness in his voice, Petunia met his clear green gaze.

"Harry, we don't have a choice. You need medical attention."

"No, Aunt Petunia. My magic's already taken care of the worst of the damage, and it'll continue to heal me throughout the day. But you can't tell anyone about this. If you tell the authorities, they'll take me away, and I can't leave."

"Why on earth not?"

Harry smiled wryly through the pain. "Other than the fact that I'm a wizard? The blood protections, Aunt Petunia. It's why Professor Dumbledore hasn't let me go live with the Weasley's. The blood protection from my mother is keyed to you, which is why I have to come back each summer. I can't leave. If anyone finds out, they'll make me, and that can't be allowed to happen. I appreciate the concern, but I'll be alright."

"You're not alright," Petunia snapped. Then she sighed, "But I see your point. Fine, I won't call the hospital. But there's no way you're doing chores today." Petunia cut Harry off as he moved to protest. "Dudley and I can take care of the chores for one day. You are to stay in your bed. We'll do what we can for your wounds and then you will go back to sleep. No arguing."

Harry couldn't help his small smile. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Giving a small smile of her own, Petunia got to her feet and went to fetch the first aid kit and tell Dudley to get started on the chores.

Surprisingly, Dudley agreed to the chores without fuss. Petunia just shrugged it off, more concerned with helping Harry. What she didn't realize was that Dudley had seen his cousin that morning, and between yesterday and what he had seen and heard today, Dudley had come to a few realizations and a decision.

Dudley had always enjoyed Harry Hunting. Picking on his younger cousin made him feel big and important. But picking on him was one thing. What his father had done was a level all its own and no one deserved that, not even if they were magic. That realization had happened yesterday as he had helped his cousin into his room, then firmed as he spent all day watching Harry force himself through chores he had no business doing. Then last night had happened. Neither of his parents knew it, but Dudley had snuck to the kitchen door to listen in on his parents' conversation and had heard his father go off on his mother.

Unlike Petunia, Dudley realized why his father had exploded. Hurting Harry was a power trip. Sad, but true, and Dudley recognized the signs- after all, he had personal experience to teach him. So Dudley knew why his father exploded at being told to stop; he didn't want to stop feeling the power, the self-importance, that came with being able to hurt someone that couldn't fight back. And while he had felt that it was wrong, Dudley didn't feel brave enough to do anything about it. After all, this was his father. What could he do against him? But then he had seen his cousin this morning. Had seen what his father had done- again- because someone had threatened to take his power trip away.

And that was when Dudley made his decision. He wouldn't actively go against his father. He didn't want his father to turn his anger towards him. But he would do whatever he could to help his cousin survive this. And if that meant doing chores he would normally throw a spectacular fit about, then so be it; he would do the chores.

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And so it went. On the days when Harry was strong enough, he would gently- but firmly- take over doing the chores from Petunia and Dudley, and on the days when he was too battered to even stand, Petunia would care for him throughout the day as she and Dudley took care of the chores. They fell into the routine easily and took pains to ensure that Vernon stayed oblivious to it all.

Then, three weeks later, everything came to a head. Vernon had had a rotten day at work, had come home to find Harry still cooking dinner, and was in general in a foul mood.

Harry, Petunia, and Dudley had all known the minute the door slammed and Vernon came snarling into the kitchen that Petunia and Dudley would be doing the chores tomorrow. What none of them had expected was the level of sheer sadistic viciousness that Vernon would come to that night.

Petunia and Dudley first realized something was different when Harry started shrieking. One thing they had learned was that, no matter how beaten he was, no matter how shredded his skin, Harry never screamed. Never. When Dudley got the guts up to ask why that was, Harry's response had sickened him.

"Vernon gets bored quicker when I stay silent."

The sympathy and understanding that had been in his cousin's green eyes while Dudley had sat there in horrified silence had been worse than knowing why he stayed quiet.

But it wasn't until Vernon came down, stopped briefly in the kitchen before cheerfully wishing his wife and son a good night, and went to bed that Petunia realized what had happened.

Curious in a morbid way about why her husband had needed to stop in the kitchen- it hadn't been to clean off blood, as his shirt was still stained with it- Petunia got up and went to look. She nearly fainted when she realized what the bloody butcher knives and cheese grater meant. She grabbed the first aid kit and flew back into the living room.

"Dudley! Come with me. If your father comes out of his room, make sure he doesn't go into Harry's room, I'll be in there. Let's go."

Being as quiet as possible, they crept to Dudley's second bedroom. Petunia nearly wept at what she found. Harry was again tied spread-eagle face down on the bed and his back was a bloody, pulpy mess. She got about two feet away from the bed when she finally registered what her eyes were seeing. The blood that had been flowing freely was slowing, stopping. The knife and lash wounds were scabbing over, closing, so that they looked a couple of days old, not minutes.

And that's when she finally understood what Harry had meant when he said that his magic had already fixed the worst of the damage. How often, she wondered, did this happen? How many times have I only seen what he looks like after his magic has already healed most of the damage? And in that instant, for the first time in her life, Petunia was grateful magic existed. Grateful there was something that could take care of her nephew when nothing and no one else could.

Knowing that anything she did right now would just get in the way, Petunia turned back to the door.

"Come on, Dudley. We'll give his magic time to finish what needs to be done, then do what we can for him once Vernon's left for the day."

Having seen the same thing his mother had, Dudley just nodded and allowed his mother to herd him from the room. They would wait for tomorrow to take over caring for Harry.