AN: Hello again dear readers. I'm honestly surprised at the turnout of followers for this fiction. I've only got the first chapter done, with nothing really original, and I've gotten ten already. Please enjoy this new chapter, and I'll speak a little bit more at the end of it. Remember, it's all original from here.

Chapter 2: A Day with the Dursleys

On the morning of November 1st, Petunia Dursley awoke early to the sound of her child screaming from a nightmare. She quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her husband Vernon. She made her way down the hallway and opened her son's door. Petunia worked her way around her child's myriad toys, and eventually got to her son's side. Kneeling, she took a good look at him. He was thrashing about wildly, his brow slick with sweat, blonde locks tousled and plastered to his face. His face was scrunched up with fear, but it was obvious to the worried mother that her precious boy was still unconscious.

Dudley Dursley was a very large child, due to the fact that his mother and father doted on him. He was thoroughly content that he was the shining star in his parents' lives. He got all the food he wanted, had love heaped upon him like blankets on a winter night, and he got to do whatever he wanted. Dudley was not a smart child, as anyone but his parents would notice. He was greedy, attention-seeking, and already a little menace. All of the people in Privet Drive were appalled at the way they saw the Dursley parents spoil their son.

But if they could look through the window now, they would notice the tender look in Petunia's eyes. The way her fingers barely touched his forehead as she brushed away his sodden hair. "Dudley." She whispered, shaking him a little bit. He groaned and whimpered in response. "Dudley, it's mummy. Wake up for mummy, yeah?" She said a little louder, and she grabbed his shoulder, shaking a little harder. "Diddy darling, you're having a nightmare, please wake up for mummy." Dudley calmed a little bit in his crib, but his face was still tense, and his body stiff. "M-mummy…" he squeaked out, his infantile voice melting his mother's heart at hearing the fear in it. His eyes opened, and clear, dark blue eyes stared at a familiar face.

Dudley, now firmly awake, was picked up by his mother carefully. "I think my precious Diddy needs a nappy change, yeah?" Petunia cooed at her son, who babbled back incoherently in what could have been an imperious voice. "Oh, and my big boy is hungry too, huh? Does my darling want some porridge and rashers this morning? That'll make you forget all about that big bad dream." Petunia giggled lightly as Dudley nodded vehemently, and pointed to the stairs from her arms. She took him downstairs, and put him in his high chair, scooting him up to the table. She put some water in a pot and set it on the stove and lit it, then turned back to Dudley. "You be a good boy and watch this water while mum goes and gets the milk from outside, right Dudders?" Petunia said, scrunching her nose at the child. He banged his hands on the table in response, smiling at his mother's antics.

Petunia sauntered toward the front door, idly speculating on her life, unaware that the normalcy she wrapped herself in was about to be undone like so much bubble wrap. As she opened the door, Petunia looked down and saw the daily milk bottle on her stoop. She leaned down and placed the empty bottle in her hand on the ground and picked up the new one, when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. It was a basket. Strange, she thought. It is not my birthday, nor Vernon's, so why would there be a gift basket? For that was all it could be, in her opinion. The basket was ornate, and had a card on top of the contents. To: Petunia Dursley, it said. She idly picked up the basket and put the milk bottle in it, noting its weight, and inspected the card back and front as she walked back to the kitchen. The material was familiar to her, but she couldn't place where she'd seen it before.

"I'm back, Duddy darling! Were you good?" Petunia called as she dropped the basket down absently on the countertop, paying no mind to the contents. She puttered around the kitchen, finishing her son's breakfast, and put it in front of him, at which point the one year old began to enthusiastically make a mess of himself, causing his mother to laugh as she pulled the basket toward her. She pulled out her letter-knife and broke the wax seal of the letter, unfolding it to reveal loopy handwriting written in emerald green ink.

"My Dear Petunia," the letter began, "I believe you may be wondering as to the origin of this package, and I have no doubts that you began by reading this missive first, like any rational person would. I should have you know that my name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the Headmaster for your sister's boarding school. I truly wish I could be the bearer of good news with this letter, but alas, it would seem to not be possible in this case.

Your dear sister, Lily Evans, was murdered last night in her home at Godric's Hollow. She was being hunted by a very bad man for a long time, and she was unfortunately betrayed by one of those she held closest. Her husband, James Potter was with her, as was her year old son Harry. James was also cut down, but their son – your nephew – lives on. You may now be wondering where he might be, but rest assured, I have put him in the safest hands I thought possible for him. It is at this time I think you should open the basket in front of you."

Petunia's mind was numb, and her hands were shaking as she reached out to the basket. No, she thought No. He couldn't have. Not like this. I made my peace, but Vernon… Vernon would make a huge fuss of this. She flipped the blanket back, and sure enough, there was a small child with jet black hair and a large scar spanning his forehead. The wound looked fresh, and it lanced across his forehead like a bolt of lightning. Unsightly, in her opinion. Suddenly, his eyes opened, and he stretched, yawning as he blinked owlishly at her. Petunia's breathing hitched as she stared into the boy's eyes, the same eyes as her sister that she had so cruelly booted from her life years before. The corners of her eyes began prickle with unshed tears as she turned her eyes back to the letter in her hand.

"I hope that you understand the gravity of this situation, Petunia. The child in front of you is Harry James Potter, your nephew He was born on July 31st, 1980. He is a wanted child by many of the people in his parents' world, and he would not benefit from that. He already has enemies, Petunia. Think about that, enemies. People firmly set against you before you can walk and talk. It is best that he stay with his family, so as to protect him from such persecution and speculation. I hope you will make the right decision and keep him, Petunia, for it is only with his mother's sister that Harry can be truly safe.

Signed with deepest respect,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

Young Harry's stomach made a gurgling noise as he wriggled in his basket. This sound startled Petunia from her reverie and caused her eyes to rest on her nephew. Harry's eyes stared at her quizzically, but oddly enough, the boy made no sound. He was silent, looking at her contemplatively. Odd that he's not crying right now. If those people keep the same hours as normal people, she should have been there through the night. He must be freezing, not to mention starving. Those were the thoughts that ran through the head of Petunia Dursley as she eyed the boy up and down. He seemed healthy enough, so her sister must have made a decent mother of herself. Now, how to deal with the child in front of her before Vernon woke up.

She couldn't keep him, no matter what that man said. If he was such a wanted child, their lot would eventually track him down to this location. They would hire a Private Investigator, or whatever their equivalent was, and she would be swamped with a load of unnatural people on her door-step before she knew it. No, she would have to take him somewhere. But where? There were no orphanages in Surry. And she couldn't leave her precious Dudley on his own for too long. Maybe that old Mrs. Figg down the street would be able to keep an eye on him for a while. Yes, that might work. That would work perfectly.

Petunia took out her Biro and pen, then sketched out a note to Vernon, letting him know that Dudley would be at Mrs. Figg's, and she would be to London on some errands. She knew he did not have work today, otherwise he would have been up already. Thank my lucky stars for that, she supposed. "Alright, Diddydums," Petunia said, standing with the letter in hand. "We're going to go see old Mrs. Figg. You're going to spend the day with her, doesn't that sound like fun?" she finished, tickling his sides and taking him to the bathroom to bathe, leaving the curiously silent Harry Potter in his basket on the counter.

After getting Dudley all washed and dressed, Petunia stuffed a couple of fresh nappies into his baby bag and marched over to Mrs. Figg's house next door. Walking up with Dudley in hand, she rapped smartly on the door, and waited for the elderly woman to make her way there. After a good wait, almost 10 minutes, Mrs. Figg opened her door and squinted through aged eyes at the pair. "Oh, hello dearie, how can this old woman help you today? Tea?" She motioned behind her, opening the door wider to allow Petunia entrance. "I'm afraid not, Arabella. I've some errands to run in London, and Vernon is still asleep. I was wondering if you would be willing to watch Dudley while I was gone." Petunia held her breath as the wrinkled woman thought for a moment.

"Of course I'd be willing to take the little darling." Mrs. Figg said kindly. "The cats love Dudley, so don't you worry your pretty little nose off." Petunia sighed in relief, handing Dudley and his bag to Mrs. Figg. "Thank you Mrs. Figg, is there anything you'd like while I'm out to market?" "Oh dear, would you get an old woman some cat food while you're there? That would be such a kindness." Mrs. Figg asked absently, pinching Dudley's cheek as he attempted to fight off the offending digits. "We'll be fine here dear, so go and have a lovely time in London." Arabella waved at Petunia as she walked off to Vernon's car.

As soon as she was sure Mrs. Figg's door was closed, Petunia dashed into her house and snatched up the basket with young Harry in it. Wrapping the blanket tightly around him, she placed him back into the basket and penned a noted on her biro. "Harry James Potter, born July 31st, 1980. Mother and Father deceased. Please treat him well." Petunia then made her way to the car, looking around nervously as she placed him in the left back seat. It wouldn't do for him to be injured on the way to the orphanage, or she would feel obligated to take him to the clinic.

An uneventful hour later, Petunia parked her car on the block opposite a large, rainbow colored building. The sign read 'Mrs. Pierson's Orphanarium' in large colorful letters. She saw no people outside and no lights on, indicating to her that perhaps the orphanage staff were not paying attention to the outside of their building. As nonchalantly as possible, Petunia walked across the street with Harry and deposited him on the stoop of the garishly colored building. She then turned and walked away quickly, the memory of innocent, vibrantly green eyes haunting her dreams for many weeks to come.

AN: Alright, and that's a wrap for this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy it. Please make sure to review this chapter, because I'm always open to feedback. As I mentioned before, no review will go unanswered, and no idea will be left unconsidered. That being said, I bid you adieu.

Signed,

-Vincent Argeneau