Protection

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Petunia knocked on Harry's door for the third time that morning. It was almost noon, the woman had already tidied up the house and even made lunch, and the boys hadn't even gotten out of bed. She was getting nervous, because the day of her sister-in-law's visit had arrived, and she had a complicated relationship with the woman, based purely on passive-aggressive dialogues since none of them really liked the other. She knew that everything had to be in perfect condition when Marge arrived, otherwise the evening would be filled with complaints and hunches about how Petunia should improve the house management and educate her son and nephew.

She crossed paths with Dudley in the corridor, who was huffing in the direction of the bathroom, complaining that it was weekend and he shouldn't have to wake up early. The boy was hard to handle, he looked too much like his father. They had the same big eyes, thin lips, temperament and, most importantly, the same complete lack of respect for her. Still with no sign of Harry, Petunia opened the bedroom door and found the boy deeply asleep in bed. A little irritated, she approached him, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing the brunette's unruly hair out of his eyes. She wanted her godson's help with the afternoon groceries; they would make a big roast for Marge and the preparation would take a long time. She knew she couldn't count on Dudley, who would spend the afternoon in the square with his friends and then return home stamping dirt on the floor that Petunia had just washed, as was his custom.

"Harry, dear, wake up".

"Hmmm" the boy grumbled rubbing his eyes.

"Marge will be here later this afternoon, Vernon will pick her up after work. You know how she is, so can you help me with the day's shopping? It is already lunchtime and the table is set for you".

"Of course, Aunt P" replied the boy, yawning and putting on the round-framed glasses that were on the headboard of the bed. Petunia constantly held back tears of longing when she saw her godson open his eyes in the morning. If the woman looked directly into the green orbs, she could swear for a few seconds that she was standing in front of her sister. How she missed Lily! How different things would have been if she were alive! She swallowed dryly, gave the boy a light kiss on the forehead and left the room.

The three inhabitants of the house made their meal as they normally did. Dudley punched the whole food in his mouth at once, dirtying his face and the freshly washed tablecloth. In an alternate reality, Petunia would find the scene funny and even cute. But she knew that the child was behaving wildly at the table to provoke her. Petunia had long ago given up calling the boy's attention to the correct use of cutlery, since the more she taught him, the more he did the opposite. Dudley ate everything very quickly, wiped his mouth on the tablecloth and ran out the back door, calling the neighbour's son with a shout for them to go play ball in the park.

Harry, on the other hand, always took his meals easy when Vernon wasn't home. Her husband hated his nephew, Petunia was well aware of that, and she felt powerless and miserable inside for being so weak as to be unable to provide a decent childhood for the boy. The childhood that Lily would be able to provide for him. Harry was so much like Lily it hurt. He was, of course, the physical copy of James. If the boy's eyes were brown he could easily impersonate the boy who used to turn up at their house in Cokeworth to catch Lily's eye in the summer holidays. However, his sweet, sensitive, helpful and extremely observant manner were undeniably qualities inherited from his mother.

"I was thinking" Petunia said, gathering the plates from the table. Harry went on to roll up the towel to put it in the washing tank "don't you want to stay and play in the afternoon? It's nice and sunny out. I can do the shopping on my own".

"I'd rather go with you, Aunt P" the boy replied "it's not like I have friends here".

The blonde gave the boy a shy smile and finished washing the dishes. The two went out walking through the neighbourhood and Harry stopped when they reached their destination, but he found Petunia odd to keep walking.

"Aunt P?" boy called "aren't we going to Morrison's?"

"I decided to pick up the meat at Sample's today" the blonde answered, gesturing for Harry to hurry up and accompany her. The boy took a quick jog and caught up with his aunt, walking alongside her.

"Vernon always orders the meat at Morrison's" the boy pointed out hesitantly.

"Well, Vernon's big enough to handle the fact that we don't always get what we want" she said in a firm voice, and Harry couldn't restrain his smile. The boy loved these few moments of defiance from his aunt. Normally she was so submissive to Vernon that it was sickening. But in a few moments like that, the woman did what she wanted.

The contrast between Petunia and Vernon was stark. Harry thought he must have been very different in his youth for his aunt to have taken an interest in him. Today, the two had nothing to do with each other. Vernon was fat and burly, always wearing dull clothes in even duller shades. He had a large mustache and tried at all costs to comb his brown hair to the side to hide the baldness that was already beginning to appear. Petunia, on the other hand, looked at least ten years younger than her husband. She was not too thin, but she was a little taller than the rest of the women in the neighbourhood, and that made her look elegant. She had a long, well-shaped neck, slightly greenish blue eyes, and straight blonde hair. She constantly wore her hair tied up in a bun, since she hardly ever went to a beauty parlour to have it done, as the other women did. Harry had the slight impression that Vernon liked to show off Petunia, who was a beautiful woman, but at the same time he was angry at her beauty and would not let her leave the house unaccompanied.

Sometimes it seemed as if his uncle wanted to make her ugly on purpose, which was impossible. He presented her with flowered dresses in a strange colour combination, similar to the dresses of Mrs Figg, the neighbour. Auntie never had her nails painted, yet her cuticles were always impeccable. She had long fingers and he knew she was great on the piano, although she had never played on one since Vernon, in a fit of rage, broke the instrument. She never wore makeup, but she didn't need it either. Her fair skin painted with small freckles in the region of her nose was velvety, and not even her aunt's tired dark circles made her less beautiful. However, while he appreciated his aunt's moments of vivacity and defiance like that, Harry worried that his aunt didn't actually like Vernon. And when he stopped to think about it, he simply couldn't understand why she kept submitting to that marriage.

The two of them bought the meat and Petunia took Harry to an ice cream parlor. He couldn't help but notice that the woman used the change from the meat they bought, which was cheaper than the one they were supposed to buy, to pay for the ice cream. The blonde extended the cone to her nephew and the two sat side by side on a stool.

"I think I can use Marge's stay to convince your uncle to let you go to your friends' house" she commented, eating the ice cream gracefully using a plastic spoon, "if you want and if your friend's mother wants to receive you, of course".

"I'm not going to lie, Auntie, I really wish I could get rid of living with Marge" he replied.

"That makes two of us" she replied, and they both laughed.

"When I turn seventeen I am leaving home" the boy said firmly, 'and I am taking you with me, Auntie".

The woman smiled and ruffled the boy's already spiky hair and kissed him on the forehead, murmuring an "okay" and calling him to come home.

.

Late afternoon, the table was already set and the food on the table when Vernon and Marge walked through the door. The woman looked attentively through the whole house, as if looking for some flaw to be pointed out, and then her eyes fell on Dudley, already bathed and properly dressed, and she opened a smile with her big and crooked yellow teeth.

"My Dudley! How he has grown! He is getting stronger and more beautiful, and he looks like his father! Thank heavens he has inherited the Dursleys' features!".

Petunia decided to ignore the veiled attempt at insult, mentally replying that there was no chance on earth of Dudley looking like an Evans, and politely turned to her sister-in-law and greeted her, inviting everyone to the meal. Harry was just finishing setting the bowls and cutlery on the table when everyone entered the dining room.

"Are you still here?" the woman asked as she arrived near the kitchen, carrying her dog, which looked more like a pig, under her arm.

"Yes, of course Harry is still here. He's my nephew and part of the family, where did you expect him to be?" Petunia replied clearly out of patience with the woman, who rolled her eyes and sat down at the table. Harry stifled a chuckle and Petunia gave him a wink, messing up his hair.

Vernon sat down at the table next to his sister and switched on the new television, hoping that the visitor would compliment his new acquisition. For the Dursleys, having an expensive television was synonymous with status, since not every family in the neighbourhood could afford one. And that irritated Petunia deeply. For years Harry had been wearing Dudley's old clothes, which his aunt carefully tried to dye and downsize, because Vernon never tired of repeating that they had no money to spend on the boy. There were not a few times when Petunia wanted to draw out her hidden savings to give her nephew a little more comfort, but she never did. She kept in mind that that money would be put to very good use when Harry turned 17 and the two of them could finally leave Vernon and his son behind.

"You don't even have to tell me who he is" Vernon laughed, casting a leering, evil glance at Harry, "Look at the state of him, the filth of the slob! Look at his hair!".

"Who are you talking about?" Petunia asked, bringing out the platter of roast potatoes.

The reporter's voice echoed through the room louder and louder, as Vernon turned up the volume by incessantly clicking the button next to the device: "...we alert our viewers that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. If anyone spots him they should call the emergency on-call number immediately".

Petunia's eyes widened and she let the dish and potatoes scatter in pieces across the kitchen floor.

"For God's sake woman, can't you carry a serving dish?" complained Marge.

Vernon gave his wife a sharp look, Dudley was too busy stealing pieces of roast beef to notice anything, and Harry ran to meet his aunt.

"Aunt P., are you all right, are you hurt?" the boy asked worriedly, crouching down to help pick up the shards of glass and pieces of potato from the floor.

"I'm fine, dear. Sit at the table, I'll clean up the mess" Petunia replied, without taking her eyes off her husband. Vernon had a look of hatred on his face, and the blonde knew the reason. The woman crouched down nervously picking up the mess from the floor and ended up with small cuts on her fingers from the shards of glass. She shivered and gathered it all up holding back tears, feeling a huge lump in her throat.

The rest of dinner, however, went relatively well after the little incident with the potato platter. Marge and Vernon were talking about Dudley's new school, and praising the boy, constantly making comparisons between him and Harry, always praising the behaviour of Vernon's son and talking about Harry as if he was a burden to the family. Harry noticed that Petunia's knuckles were white around her cutlery and locking her breath, her fingers bandaged with small bandaids. The boy doubted his aunt was breathing, as he could see through her skin the up and down movements of her throat, as if she was locking her breath and swallowing dryly. His aunt's cheeks were red and Harry feared that at any moment his aunt would explode.

He knew she wanted to take sides in his favour, but he also knew that going against her old pig of a husband's sister would do no good, it would only cause a long drawn out fight. And Harry also secretly feared that Vernon might hit his aunt in cases of a fight like that. He had already witnessed, just once, an argument between the two of them that resulted in a broken window and his aunt crying in the bathroom. When the two siblings returned to the subject of the escaped prisoner, Harry noticed that his aunt became nervous and that a single tear ran down her blushing cheek. That caught the boy's attention. Could it be that his aunt knew this escaped convict? The subject then returned to Harry's behaviour.

"You shouldn't blame yourself for what the boys are today, Vernon" she commented, "if there's something rotten inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it".

Harry tried to concentrate on the food, but his hands were shaking and his face began to burn with anger. Petunia held her nephew's hand, casting him a pleading look to try and ignore the comments. She herself was trying with all her selfcontrol not to respond rudely to her sister-in-law.

"That's one of the basic rules of breeding" continued Marge, with an arrogant air "we see it all the time with dogs. If there is something wrong with a bitch, there will be something wrong with the puppy...".

"Enough!" Petunia exclaimed loudly, her eyebrows furrowed in hatred, as the cup that Marge was holding exploded in her hand, splashing the liquid everywhere. Vernon ran to the kitchen to fetch a cloth, asking if his sister was alright, and cast a deadly glare at his wife and Harry. He muttered something the boy didn't understand, but Petunia paled.

"Don't worry" Marge grumbled, wiping her face with her napkin, "I must have held it too tight. I did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to worry, I have a heavy hand...".

Vernon sat down at the table again and placed the napkin on his lap. He poured his sister a new glass.

"Back to the point, Vern, the whole thing is connected to the blood. Bad blood does come out. But, I'm not saying anything against your Petunia family..." Marge went on, and the blonde stared at the woman "but your sister was a real pain in the ass. That happens in the best families. Then she ran away with that worthless man and there's the result right before our eyes".

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" Harry shouted knocking his plate to the ground, causing the object to break into dozens of pieces. Petunia and Vernon got up at the same time, the man staring at Harry as if he was going to strangle him, and Petunia standing in front of her godson, staring at her sister-in-law. Marge tried to say something, but when she opened her mouth and pointed her index finger at Harry, her entire hand began to swell. And faster than potatoes went down, the woman's entire body swelled until she turned into a balloon and went flying out the balcony door.

Vernon advanced towards Harry, holding him by the neck.

"BRING MARGE BACK! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, YOU FREAK?" Vernon shouted, and Harry found it hard to breathe with his uncle's hands around his neck.

"Vernon, let him go!" Petunia screamed with tears in her eyes, pulling on her husband's arm. The man threw his elbow back, hitting her square in the shoulder, causing her to fall sitting up and hitting her head on a chair. For some reason they didn't understand until much later, all the dogs in the neighborhood started barking, and Vernon was distracted when his neighbour's Rotweiller launched itself against the porch door, knocking over some flower pots Petunia had planted. The animal growled at Vernon, and that distraction was enough for Harry to disentangle himself from his uncle's arms and lift his aunt off the ground, running straight to his room. He heard, while he threw his things inside the trunk, the uncles arguing and Vernon shouting for the neighbour to pick up the dog. He heard the neighbour's voice calling the animal. The uncles argued again, and Harry feared for his aunt.

As soon as he went downstairs and opened the door, Petunia ran to meet him at the entrance of the house, her face swollen with tears.

"I'm leaving" the boy said firmly.

"What do you mean you're leaving? Going where? You can't leave, it's not safe!" Petunia exclaimed in despair.

"I'm not staying here in this house for another minute, Aunt P! And you should do the same" replied Harry, walking out the door towards the middle of the street. The aunt ran to catch up with him.

"Harry, please, we can tidy things up, we can manage! Please, you don't even have anywhere to go! It's not safe for you out of the house! It's not safe!" she kept insisting.

"It's not safe for any of us inside this house! Why do you do this to yourself, Aunt P? You have been my mother for all these years, and you are the person I love most in the world, I don't understand how you can be married to this pig, who mistreats you, who doesn't respect you. I can't live with this anymore".

Petunia cried, running her hands nervously through her hair, which ended up completely messing up her bun, leaving some blond strands loose. She knew her nephew was right. Her best efforts couldn't make up for the fact that the boy's entire life had been a living hell with Vernon under the same roof. But she also knew that the two of them needed to stay inside that house. Dumbledore had been very clear about that.

"Harry, please stay" she pleaded softly.

"I can't, Aunt P, and you should come with me. You deserve better, much better than that. Please, come with me".

Petunia burst into tears. Harry was all she had since her sister and James were killed. Looking into her nephew's eyes brought her the comfort of feeling that she had Lily by her side again. She didn't know what she would do alone in a house with Vernon. And so, unresponsive, Petunia watched her nephew turn his back and walk off down the street carrying his trunk. Still in shock and with her head aching from the knock on the chair, it took her a while to take the action of going out into the neighbourhood looking for her nephew, but there was no sign of the boy.

Petunia was not sure how many minutes or hours she had looked for the boy when, defeated, she returned to her house, her face feeling hot and swollen from the tears, and found Vernon still purple with rage standing in the courtyard, purposely stepping on the lilies that his wife so diligently cared for.

"Where is that brat?" Vernon shouted, approaching his wife "He better go away, and preferably not come back! I won't spend another penny on that ingrate! With that aberration!".

Petunia felt her chest fill with hatred, giving him a deadly look. Few times in her life had the woman felt as great towards her husband as she did at that moment. She no longer cared about appeasing tempers. She no longer cared about sparing the boys from Vernon's noxious behaviour. She no longer cared about having to leave, after all, she had already lost Harry.

"You... "she began with her voice firm, her cheeks red and her eyes watery with anger "who are you to talk about ingratitude? I've been with you for the last twelve years! I've been with you, putting up with your snobbish, childish behaviour, taking on the son you had with some whore!".

Vernon turned purple and looked around, seeing that some neighbours were running to the windows and closing the curtains, pulling their relatives inside. Petunia laughed like a madwoman thinking that Vernon must be embarrassed to have his wife making a scene in the street. That gave her the courage she needed to go on saying everything that had been choking in her throat for years.

"The only reason I put up with your fat ass all these years was that little boy who just disappeared!" she continued, raising her tone of voice "I don't have any reason to be with you anymore! You make me sick! Harry's right, I should have got us both out of here years ago!".

"And with what money do you think you'll leave? You have no money left!" Vernon laughed mockingly, his eyes still glazed over the woman in front of him, making light of her words "without me you have nowhere to drop dead! Are you going back to that scumbag who didn't want you? That criminal?" he laughed debauchedly "you'll be sleeping out in the open in some ditch, or in the bed of some drunk who offers you some change, like the whore you are!".

Petunia crossed the distance that separated them and looked deep into the man's eyes, her pointed finger almost touching the man's nose.

"I'd rather be a drunk's whore than your wife" she spat the words.

That had been too much for Vernon. The man grabbed the arm of the woman, who was trying to extricate herself to enter the house, and threw her to the floor. Petunia slammed her back and head against the mailbox, and would have paid more attention to her throbbing head if not for the huge black dog that had jumped out of a tall bush and was now standing in front of her. The animal growled like a wild wolf at Vernon and stood poised protectively placing itself between the man and Petunia. Vernon was terrified. This wasn't just any neighbour's dog. That monstrosity was much bigger than an ordinary dog, it was almost a giant wolf. A giant black wolf that foamed at the mouth, had its teeth bared, its fur completely dirty and at any moment it would attack Vernon in one fatal blow.

As expected, Vernon ran into the house and locked the door, frightened. Petunia knew the large black dog in front of him, but she was in such a catatonic state that she was limited to breathing with immense difficulty, not moving a single muscle. The dog turned towards the woman, and she could see the animal hide its teeth and move from its attacking position. It had large grey eyes and looked Petunia deep into her eyes. The dog brought its muzzle close to her and almost touched the woman's nose, who had stubborn tears streaming down her face and was breathing hard, terrified. She tried to scream, but could find no voice to do so. Slowly she brought her hand behind her head and touched where it hurt, feeling something thick and warm on her fingers. Her vision began to cloud and she became dizzy. When she faced her hand, she saw it covered in blood. Before she could react to the sudden approach of the animal, which seemed restless at the smell of blood, she fainted.