A Small Return
*Note the characters in this story aren't mine. If they were, I'd be writing books, not fan fiction! Please enjoy!
No matter what happened, it always seemed to be his fault. First they lock him in and tell him not to come out, then all the sudden they try and be nice. Then Dudley and his gang cause trouble, and who takes the rap? Harry clenched his fists, plotting revenge. However, nothing he could think of was even remotely possible. No use making his aunt and uncle more angry or embarrassed of him. He had to live here for the next few weeks still.
Frustrated he looked for something to throw. Perhaps breaking a few things would make him feel better. Just as he had picked up his Care for Magical Creatures textbook, a knock pounded on his door. This wasn't a usual occurrence, for Harry had little privacy or solace in his tiny room on Privet Drive. Room was an understatement, more like a prison. The knocking on his door intrigued Harry, and he slowly made his way to the door.
"Harry?" It was his aunt Petunia. Harry shook his head. What could this mean?
"What did I do now? I told you I didn't dig those holes in the backyard, I watched Dudley…"
"No, that isn't… Harry, can I come in a minute? I don't want your uncle seeing me here talking to you." She looked around as if expecting Vernon to just appear and scold her for talking to her nephew.
"Ok. Yeah…" Harry moved back to let her through. He couldn't help his curiosity at what she had to say. Ever since the day Dumbledore sent her that howler Harry had felt a little sympathy for her. She was his last connection to his parents, perhaps that is what she wanted?
"Sit down Harry. I have something I need to tell you…" Aunt Petunia grabbed the wooden chair by Harry's desk as Harry sat on his bed. "I'm not sure how to say this, so I'm going to try and be brief. Your uncle and Dudley went out for a few minutes, but they'll be back soon, and I don't want him to know…well, he doesn't know…"
Harry began to wonder how such a woman had ended up with a jerk like his uncle. Where was the attraction there? He shook his head, and waited as she tried to gather her thoughts.
"Your mother…my sister…she was always better at consoling and kind words, and such. I… Well, I just want to say that Sirius, he was a great man. I met him a few times. I'm really sorry Harry…"
"You don't have to say…" The last thing Harry wanted to do was relive those fateful last days of his fifth year.
"Yes, Harry…I do. Listen to me, for a few minutes…We don't have much time…" Aunt Petunia stood up and walked to the window. She must have noticed that the car was still missing from the driveway, because she turned and sat down again. "Harry, I have something I need to give to you…I want to give to you…There's so much I could say, but I think it will speak for itself." She pulled a small package wrapped in string and brown paper from her apron pocket.
"What's this?" Harry accepted the package, turning it over in his hands. He could almost smell the age of the paper. "I don't understand…"
"Your mother gave this to me one day, when I…well; let's just say I was going through similar feelings as you are right now. Just open it. It'll explain itself." She got up to leave, but stopped in the doorway. "Harry? Your parents would have been proud of you… Please…don't tell your uncle about this, ok? If he found out…"
"Of course." Harry nodded. He kept his eyes focused on the brown paper. Suddenly, he felt a little embarrassed. He still didn't know whether he wanted to be like his parents or not.
Aunt Petunia closed the door, leaving Harry to the quiet solitude of his prison-like room. For some reason, Harry didn't feel like presents just now. The burning of his scar had subsided for the moment, and he decided perhaps it would be ok to open it. His distrust of his aunt and uncle lost to his curiosity as he tore at the brown paper.
A black box peered back at him. He stared at it, confused. He had expected something much more exciting. He carefully lifted the lid of the box hoping that there was something more thrilling awaiting him. A small carved figure stared back at him. It was a funny looking little witch. He turned her over in his hands, looking for something magical or even the least bit exciting. However, there was nothing, nothing that seemed remarkable. I could carve something like this, he thought. Harry was confused. Was Aunt Petunia playing some cruel joke with him?
He peered back into the box, digging his fingers under the tissue paper. There, amongst the paper was a letter. Aha! This must be it, Harry thought. Here's the trick, maybe a spell or something? The piece of parchment was pretty ordinary though. He opened it…a letter from his mother! She wrote to Aunt Petunia?
"I thought they hated each other!" Harry exclaimed out loud. Hedwig glared at him. She had been contentedly sleeping before Harry's sudden outburst. "Sorry, Hedwig, I didn't mean to wake you up." Hedwig shook her feathers, and closed her eyes again.
His fingers trembled as he eagerly devoured the words of the letter:
My Dear sister,
I know that you and I don't always see eye to eye on things, but please don't throw this letter away. I sent it regular mail hoping that you would at least read this before throwing it into the fire. I know you have burned the last couple of letters I sent by owl.
I want only to say that I know what you are feeling. I am still grieving the loss of our parents just as you are. I want you to know that if you ever need me, I am only a letter away. I will finish my term at Hogwarts soon, and I'd like to see you for awhile so that we can catch up. I haven't seen you since the funeral, and I feel like there is much to say.
The little figure is one that has brought me much comfort here at Hogwarts. I know that you can buy these for pennies at any toyshop, but it means a lot to me. This is a funny view of what a witch is like. She's got big floppy hats and always has a black cat and casts evil spells on everyone around her. That isn't me.
She reminds me that no matter what everyone else says I am, that I don't have to be that person. I am a human, I am a witch sure, but more than anything I am your sister. I want to be your sister, and your friend. No matter what you may think of me, and no matter what you think of my choices in life. I want you to know that no matter what I will always be here for you, even 'til the day I die. I will send you another letter by owl later this week, please, don't burn that letter too. Give me another chance, Petunia. If not for me than for mother….
Your dear sister,
Lily
Tears fell down Harry's cheeks. Suddenly he understood his Aunt's gesture. He picked up the box and began to put the little carving away when he saw a photograph staring up at him. Funny, he hadn't noticed that before. Two girls smiled happily back at him. They had to be about seven or eight. Harry thought he recognized them. His mother and his aunt! He smiled, for the first time in weeks. Maybe this summer wouldn't be as bad as he thought.