It had been a long and stressful year, trying to move her plans along without either Vernon or Dumbledore knowing.
She had met with a lawyer in the city known for his discreet services, who would ensure a speedy divorce. She was pleasantly surprised when she was informed that he would be able to file the paperwork for change of guardianship, change of citizenship and custody of her son for an extra fee. Apparently he had connections with other agencies and persons to speed up the process.
It was harder to find someone to help her with the magic side of the matter but she lucked out; she had received some money and a lot of junk from her parent's in their will, including Lily's school things. She searched for a pamphlet she had once seen Lily read over and over, along with her textbooks, the summer before the school year began. It was an introductory pamphlet that introduced the muggleborns students and their parents to the Wizarding world. What was it called again…?
'A History of Magic or Advanced Runes Made Easy? No…Beginner's Guide to Transfigurations…What you need to know—yes!'
Petunia eagerly read the information within it and planned accordingly; apparently there was a Ministry that governed their world and dealt with all matters of law, including cases of guardianship and though it wasn't said outright, generally it seemed that they prefer for the Freaks to live in their world. Even when she read between the lines and found that they looked down on 'muggleborn' children and would rather place them in their version of an orphanage than actually have a 'pureblood' family take them in. She didn't really care where they put him, so long as they took him off her hands and let them handle all issues of guardianship. More importantly, it seemed that a division within this Ministry called the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts deal primarily with any and all people, places and things that had been spelled by Freaks to have dangerous or mischievous effects.
She was unsure at first when it didn't seem to be general operating procedure for a 'muggle' to get in contact with them and would rather keep them out of her house, or even how to go on about contacting them but she didn't allow herself the luxury of uncertainty. The sooner she got this done, the sooner she would be free. So she sat down at her personal writing desk and took out an old-fashioned style stationary Lily had gifted her one Christmas that she had thrown away into the back of her closet to be forgotten. She had to dust and wipe it a few times before it was clean enough to be used but finally, she took out the calligraphy pen and began writing a quick note:
To: the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts
Hello. I know your Ministry does not usually deal with a muggle but my sister went to Hogwarts, graduate class of 1980, and had told me about the very important work you do. It seems that someone has placed some sort of spell on my house. I am able to leave for brief periods of time, though as a housewife I usually spend the day at home, keeping the house, but whenever I am gone for more than a few days, I start to feel quite sick. I get dizzy and nauseous, and even fainted once!
It's not only my immediate family who is in danger but my nephew as well. She and her husband, I can not quite remember his name, had died in that war of yours and left me to raise her son. The spell, whatever it is, also affects him in the same way. Please, I need your help.
Mrs. Dursley
#4 Privet Drive
Little Winging, Surrey
She had made sure to include her address not only so that she could receive a reply but so that they would be able to find her; the letter that'd been left with the boy from the old man had stated that only if she (or him) willingly and personally told someone the address would any wizard or witch be able to find her. He had also made it a point to tell her that it was part of the blood-wards he had placed to protect the boy and her family from being found by 'dangerous' people. She had her own suspicions about what exactly made them dangerous, for he had also mentioned that the brat was named 'the Boy-Who-Lived'. Illogical to give him a title, just for surviving where his mother did not but then, most of the Freaks didn't even seem to recognize logic so what had she really expected from their kind?
Well, she could only wait for a reply and hope that they didn't show up without first notifying her. She'd rather not have to deal with Vernon and his tantrums or expose her son to their Freakishness. Neither did she want the boy to know the power he could have over her if he knew he had magic, which whoever they sent would be only too glad to speak about.
She neatly packed away the stationary and the letter in a locked drawer of her desk and made a note to stop by the post office later; she knew there was a special box for sending letters to their world and went to make dinner. Vernon would be home soon.
The next few days passed in tense anticipation, making her more irritable and snapping at everyone until Vernon looked at her and reminded her why she had never raised her voice to him before. Finally, she received a reply in the form of a normal looking envelope. She made sure to open it only after Vernon had left his work and the boys for school, and then she canceled her lunch date with her neighbor to rip it open.
Dear Mrs. Dursley, we are sorry to hear about your troubles and will send someone to help as soon as we can. It's true that we usually do not deal with muggles even in our department; however, as your sister was a muggleborn helping you will not count as a breach of the Secrecy Act. Please inform us of the best date to come over.
Arthur Weasley, Head
Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts
She quickly wrote a reply to come by between the hours of 2 and 3:30 in the afternoon this Friday if possible. After another exchange of letters, where both parties had to cancel for some reason or another; he had some 'Quidditch' game to go to and she had to host a dinner for her husband's boss and wife, they finally settled on the first Wednesday of the next month. She was unhappy that it would take so long but her lawyer had informed her just last night, that the paperwork was all finished and she only had to sign them. After this chore was done with, she could drop the boy off at the orphanage she had informed beforehand months before and simply leave.
The day had finally come: she was expecting a Mister Weasley in the next half-hour or so. Se only hoped he wouldn't stand out too much but she remembered what her sister's husband seemed to think 'muggle' fashion was. She had just set down the tea tray on the coffee table when a knock was heard. She smoothed down her best Sunday dress and checked her hair in the mirror by the door. She opened it to find a man with flame-colored hair dressed in a reasonable business man's outfit with a briefcase and a broad smile.
"Hello, hello! Would you be Mrs. Dursley, then? I'm Arthur Weasley from the Department of—"
Her eyes widened as she realized the stupid man was about to blurt out something that would have all the tongues wagging in Little Winging; she could see several of her neighbors watching from behind their front curtains. She hurriedly let him in and spoke over him, "Water and Power, yes. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice! Please don't just stand out there—come in, come in."
Bewildered but catching on quick, Weasley let himself be shown in and made sure to raise his voice to reply, "Oh yes. It was quite a list, but we are always happy to help such a valued customer. It was no problem at all!" As soon as he was inside, Petunia went to check that the ruse had worked and looked out her own front curtains. Letting out a sigh of relief, she saw that no one suspected a thing and reminded herself that just because he was a Freak was no reason to be impolite, especially if he was going to help break the spell.
She served him his tea and asked him how he liked it, "What? Oh, two sugars please." They made some small talk, politely curious on his part and thinly-veiled contempt on hers before they got on to business.
He slid the tea set to the side and placed his briefcase on the table, taking out several strange instruments out of it. She wanted to ask what they were for but just sat quietly and watched him work. After ten minutes spent muttering under his breath and waving the things around, furiously scribbling notes down, he finally sat back with a tired sigh.
"Well, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes but I could tell even as I was walking toward the house that there's a very strong spell on it; according to my instruments, there are actually several layers of spells placed right on top of each other and holding it all together is a blood-ward." He grimaced. "That's powerful dark magic. You have a spell to hide this place from wizard and other magical creatures; a spell to stop any owl from finding a recipient of this house; a spell to protect it from magical attack; a spell to prevent theft; and some minor enchantments common to any Wizarding house."
She stared back at him in dawning horror, as hopelessness began to creep into her thoughts. She never knew there were so many! The letter had only told her about the blood-ward. No doubt, the old man knew she would refuse if he asked to cast any other spells and went ahead with them. She almost didn't hear the question he asked of her in her misery.
"….know of why there would be so many spells, and these particular spells, placed on your house? Most of them are harmless and, in fact, beneficial to have. The mail-ward is unusual but my biggest concern is the blood-ward. Its considered dark magic because it uses the life force of the inhabitants to maintain its existence and can have side-effects in the long term, such as the feelings of dizziness and nausea you had described." He frowned in confusion.
She forced herself to answer even as her mind was still stuck on the fact that it was sucking the life out of her, "I'm not sure about the blood-ward you're talking about but the other spells—the ones that stopped owl post and hid and protected this house were cast by a friend of my sister's. An old school mate who came to visit the boy and offered to cast them. He wanted to make sure we would be safe; my sister was involved in the war and was killed by those—Deatheaters, I think, was what they were called."
"Do you know why she had been targeted?"
She made sure to give a wry smile and let her eyes shine. "From what she told me about them, it was enough that she came from a witch who came from a non-magical family. That she'd dared to reproduce probably insulted them." She made sure to seem as if she was on the verge of crying and continued, "I warned her not to make a bother of herself, but she was never one to shy away from what she believed in. And she got herself killed for it!" She let some of her true feelings show about her sister, allowing her contempt to be confused for anger.
"I—I'm so sorry. You'd said in your letter that you'd taken your nephew in after she had died but I never imagined she was murdered! But I can easily believe it; the war killed a lot of good people." His voice trembled a little. "Anyway," he said, clearing his throat, "your sister's friend cast those spells?"
She nodded. "I have no idea about this blood-ward though, I've never even heard of it! It does explain my symptoms, however. I have to admit, I'm relieved somewhat; my husband was ready to take me to the hospital and I probably would have been diagnosed with Hysteria or some such thing."
For a moment they were silent but at the chime of the clock, signaling lunch, she reminded herself that it was no time to be feeling sorry. "Can you break it?"
"Well. I've never dealt with one before…luckily, I'd researched your symptoms and a blood-ward was one of the possibilities that came up. Theoretically I should be able to. I suppose we'll just have to see." With that, he took out a long stick—wand, she remembered Lily telling her—and began moving it around in some nonsensical patterns, reciting something in Latin.
It took more than a few tries, but he didn't give up and suddenly she felt something snap in her mind. She fell to her knees as her legs refused to hold her up, fatigue falling over her heavily. She was barely able to see him out before she staggered over to the couch. She still felt weak hours later and she noticed that the Freak was the same. She told him to order something for dinner and stay in the cupboard for the rest of the night.
Vernon complained but when he saw she really wasn't feeling well, he backed off; it was times like this that she remembered one of the other reasons she married him. He had always been so sweet and considerate in the beginning before Grunnings, before he had to pay for three then four people, and before he found more comfort in the bottom of a beer bottle than in her arms. She missed what they had together. She missed him.
She missed the love they once had for each other.
When Vernon carried her upstairs and curled around her, whispering that he'd always take care of 'his Petunia', she almost broke down and confessed but she just turned her face into his chest and cried.
She fell asleep with tears running down her face and a thousand regrets tearing her heart apart.
AN: I know how all you Dursley-haters out there must be hating that im making petunia even the littlest bit sympathetic but I did warn you guys that im gonna be making them more than 2-dimensional. I'm not trying to make her more likeable, but ever hear of a 'sympathetic villain'? Besides, I'm trying to make Rowling's core storyline a bit more realistic without overhauling it completely. And most people are a mish mash of good and bad traits, no one is completely good or evil—except for those few horrible people out there and, like, Ghandi.
And sometimes even those people you hear about on the news who abuse/kill/rape people? Very likely but not always—and im not making excuses for them, fuck no—they had the same things happen to them.
