Written For:

Quidditch Fanfiction League Competition: Caerphilly Catapults - Round 3 - Keeper
Write about someone trying to put the past behind them.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry: Mindfulness and Meditation
Task 2 - Write a story in first person present tense.

Betas: CupCakeyyy, S L Blake

Letting the Past Go

I startle awake. I look over to my darling Vernon as he snores loudly, holding the blanket close to his body. Something has woken me. I'm not sure what it is, but I try to follow my instincts, no matter where they lead me.

I push the blanket off me and step on the cool wooden floor, involuntarily shivering at the chill in the air. I grab my light jacket and pull it on over my dressing gown.

I silently pad to the bedroom door, not bothering to turn the light on. Just because I've been woken up for some unknown reason, there is no reason to wake Vernon up when it's this early in the morning. Not if he doesn't have to wake up yet.

I leave the room, and as I pass the nursery, I peek in on Dudley, who is slumbering, his thumb in his mouth as he sucks happily. I try to discourage Dudley from sucking his thumb – it's a nasty habit – but he is stubborn. Just like his daddy. I won't worry about it too much, unless it continues at an advanced age.

I keep the door open, so I can hear if Dudley wakes up, and walk downstairs. I listen for a stray noise, anything to indicate what woke me up. Everything is silent. Nothing out of place.

Still, a feeling of unease washes over me as I look towards the front door. There's no reason for my unease. No unwelcome noises, not even the sound of a stray cat rummaging in the trash can.

I can't deny the urge to look outside, though. I walk to the door and reach out a hand, hesitating slightly before unlocking the door, grasping the handle, and pulling it open.

My feeling of unease makes sense now as I look down at the front stoop. A baby, bundled in blue, lays sleeping in a bassinet. His eyes don't have to open for me to know who he is, but when the bright green eyes flutter open as he wakes from the scratching the door makes as it's dragged across the doormat, it's confirmed that this is Harry Potter, the nephew of my estranged sister.

I stare for a moment as Harry tilts his head, looking curiously at me. He must come to a decision about something because he gives me a wide, toothy smile, stretching his arms up as if he wants me to hold him. I don't take him into my arms, but I do take the bassinet and bring the baby – my nephew – inside.

Who would leave a child outside, for God knows how long, ever? But especially at this time of year?

I sit Harry, bassinet and all, on the couch, and take the letter I see peering out from underneath the blue blanket. I read it over quickly, my breathing becoming erratic as I process what it tells me. My sister is gone. Dead. Killed by magic. Killed by a world that excluded me.

My heart stutters painfully before it picks up speed. My stomach lurches, cramping for a short moment, before leaving behind an odd, hollow feeling.

And suddenly, it doesn't matter that it has been years since we have spoken. It doesn't matter that I refused to go to Lily's wedding and didn't invite her to mine, no matter how much our mum pleaded with me to reconsider. It doesn't matter that the last words I said to Lily were cruel and should never be uttered from an older sister to a younger sister.

All that matters is my little sister is dead, and I never got to apologize and make amends for my horrible behavior and jealousy. I never got to tell Lily that I love her. That I'm proud of how strong, brave, intelligent, and kind she is. Was. That despite our differences, I'm proud that she is my sister.

I clutch the letter in a tight fist as tears stream down my cheeks. I rub the wetness away with my other hand and sniffle.

"Lily," I whisper.

A slight whine comes from the bassinet that sits on the couch. I almost forgot about the last bit of Lily left in the world.

I stare at the little bundle, reaching down and stroking my finger gently down Harry's soft cheek. He continues to grin, not understanding that his world has forever changed in the worst way possible.

I place the crumbled letter on the coffee table before taking Harry into my arms. He cuddles against my cheek, his tiny mouth pressed against my collarbone. I rest my head down on top of his, holding him, providing him the comfort of a mother's touch – even if it isn't his mother's.

His mother is gone. My sister is gone. At least I have my memories, even though some are better than others. What will Harry remember about his mother? Will he remember anything? The color of her hair, how soft it was, how her laugh sounded and her smile looked? Will he remember the love she held for him and the whole, cruel world?

I stare down at Harry as his eyes close, and he drifts back to sleep, seemingly content in my arms, and I come to a decision.

I can give him that. I can tell him stories about what Lily was like growing up. Before I let my jealousy ruin our relationship once she was introduced to the world of magic. I can give him a mother's love that he won't be able to get from Lily.

I glance back down at the letter. That Dumbledore man obviously expects me to raise Harry. And I will. But I won't do it because Dumbledore asked, especially since the man had the audacity to leave a child – a baby (I still can't wrap my mind around that) – on a doorstep. I'll do it for Lily. Because I know if the positions were reversed, if something happened to both Vernon and me, Lily wouldn't hesitate to take Dudley in and raise him as if he was her own.

I'm not sure how Vernon will take it. He knows about magic, but I've made my displeasure known, and his attitude matches mine. But things have changed. I will give Harry the love he deserves, the love Lily would have given him. Vernon will have to deal with it; otherwise, we will be having words about any bad attitude.

And when it comes time for Harry to go to that magic school, like I know will happen, I will swallow my distaste and jealousy that I can't be part of that world. I will handle it the way I should have handled it with Lily – with support and love.

"Don't worry, Harry. You'll never be alone in the world. I promise." Silently, to my sister, I pray, hoping Lily will hear me from the Great Beyond, 'I'm sorry that I let you down all of these years, but I won't let you down now. Harry will know nothing but love and happiness.'

And so the years go by and before I know it, I am standing in front of the familiar barrier that will take my nephew to platform nine and three-quarters.

"And behave, will you?" I say while my hands busy themselves by trying to smooth out his hair. It's horrendous, just like his father's.

"Of course I will, Aunt Petunia," Harry answers as he looks up at me, eyes shining with both happiness and immense nervousness.

"And promise you will write at least once a week."

"I promise."

I look at my nephew, my second son, and swallow down the lump that started forming as soon as I started the car this morning. I know I will miss him, but what makes it somewhat easier is to know that he will miss me as well.

"Come here," I whisper, straining to keep the tears from flowing. I open my arms and Harry steps into my embrace without hesitation. "I love you, Harry, never forget that."

"I love you, too, Aunt Tuney."

A teary laugh escapes me as I press a kiss onto his forehead. He knows how Lily called me that when we were little and he's taken a liking to doing just the same. I'm not sure whether he wants to annoy me by doing it, but even if that is the case, I secretly love hearing the old nickname.

"Now off you go," I say and shoo him towards the barrier. "Close your eyes, hold on tight and run straight into the wall. I will see you at Christmas."

Harry's eyes are shining brightly, both with unshed tears as well as the excitement that is getting the better of him the closer it's getting to 10 am.

'Hogwarts,' I think as I watch him wave one last time, squeeze his eyes shut, and run through the brick wall. 'It once pushed us apart, Lily, and now I cannot wait for your son to return and tell me all of the spectacular things he's been up to in the world of magic.'

XX

(word count: 1,530)