She had seen it many times before, Petunia Dursley would admit, but there was one detail that she had never noticed properly until now.
It had all started because of her nephew, Harry Potter, lounging about on her expensive furniture, soiling it with his freaky powers, looking at something that she didn't want him looking at...
...the album of the Evans family photos.
He had tried to give the excuse that everyone had talked about his layabout father at his freaky school, but not about his mother.
She knew that he had been involved in some kind of fight at the freak Ministry against his parents' killer.
But Petunia knew best. She knew her nephew was a freak, and they could fight each other as long as decent, law-abiding citizens, were left alone.
Sitting down, she looked at the photo. Seeing what it was, she turned it over and read the caption
Charles Evans and Monty Potter, RAF Manston, June 1940
Looking at the picture, she saw her grandfather and a man who she now recognised as looking like that nephew of hers, standing smartly to attention with a Hurricane behind them.
But it was one detail of her grandfather, a man she had never had chance to meet, that she recognised...
...his eyes.
Her sisters eyes.
The eyes of her nephew.
Looking at the photograph, she remembered the stories that her grandmother told her, stories about how he had fought in the Battle of Britain, how No. 11 (Fighter) Group had been up and down, fighting the Germans, serving King and Country, and she realised one thing.
She realised that her grandfather would be turning in his grave at the way she was treating her nephew.
Standing up, she knew that she was going to treat her nephew better.
She was going to make her grandfather proud.