The Opinion of the Impartial
By Soulfull Ishida
Summary: Petunia considers her state of affairs and decides that she must either bury the past or remember the last. PD/SB, some major HP angst.
Remember the Last…
The Last…
The…Past…
Petunia's head shot up at the sudden screeching of a stopping train. Those words the Howler had stated still haunted her, made her reconsider her position on their kind. Harry walked over to them, flanked by strangely intimidating people, but she barely heard the elder man's argument with Vernon, nor saw the revolting eye that had been revealed. Her eyes stayed fixedly on that boy, and saw such a change in him…he looked like he had gained fifty years in nine months- this topped even his exhausted and haunted appearance last year.
Past…remember…last…
Lost…
June gave way to July, and still Petunia saw extremely little of Harry- she could probably count on one hand the number of times she had spotted the far-too-thin boy sneaking food from the icebox, exiting rapidly from the bathroom smelling slightly of vomit…. Finally Petunia could take it no more- she had to find out what dreadful event had taken place at that school to so drastically change her nephew. So, around 10:30 pm that night, Harry's birthday, she unlocked the door and snuck in, trying not to attract too much attention right away. What she saw nearly made her burst out into tears.
There, on the bed, lay the skin-and-bone figure of The Boy Who Lived, propped up on a pillow, gazing absently at a book on his lap and unconsciously rubbing a series of scars on his right hand.
"Harry?" she muttered, yet her voice seemed to echo throughout the room.
Harry…bury…bury- no, remember past…
Harry shot straight up, casting his overly large green eyes on her- their natural beauty had been enhanced by the tears in them. His left hand flew from his right, and Petunia could make out what the scars said- I will not tell lies- before she saw that the book that, moments ago, had been in Harry's lap was now at her feet. She gasped audibly as she recognized the people waving to her in the picture.
Lily…young and beautiful, she was always the favorite of the family.
James…the filthy wizard that had robbed her of her family.
Baby Harry…scarless and smiling, quite the opposite of what he grew up to be.
And…
"Sirius," she whispered.
Past…bury…remember the last…
"What?" Harry asked, confused. This was the first time she heard him speak since the train station, and his alto voice- so much like James'- sounded broken. "How d'you know Siri- er…him?"
"I loved Lily, though you'll never hear me admit it," she confessed, eyes still glued to the handsome, dark man winking at her.
"You just did." Accusatory.
"I meant…not to my husband." She hesitated. Why was she telling him this, this secret that she rarely admitted to himself?
'Because he needs to know,' her mind supplied. 'He needs to understand…'
"I was invited to her wedding as the matron of honor; Sirius was the best man. Also…. Harry, I'm your godmother."
Harry simply stared at her, fixing his pressuring gave upon her depressed form as she plowed through her memories. He made no movement, so she took this as a sign that he understood her and continued.
"When I first saw Sirius…I thought he was incredibly handsome, and once I learned more about his personality, I began to form a crush on him, which he seemed to readily return. After the wedding, I secretly began seeing him, and my girlish crush developed into full-blown love, something I never felt for Vernon." She paused, breathing deeply.
"But one day Vernon began to have his suspicions, so I stopped the meetings with him. Two weeks later, Lily and James were dead, Sirius was arrested, and-"
"I became your burden," Harry spat out bitterly.
"Well, yes." She gasped for air as if she had just finished running a marathon. Harry was gazing at her with a mixture of hatred, bitterness, betrayal, and…jealousy? She blinked, and the jealousy was gone.
I will not tell lies, bury- er, Harry, for I must remember the last- past, past…
"How is Sirius doing?" she asked, to break the ocean on silence forming between them.
The look in Harry's eyes told her that was entirely the wrong thing to say. It switched to blame, sadness, anger, despair…but none of it was aimed at her- quite the contrary, it was all for himself.
"He's…gone," he uttered.
"Gone? What do you mean- did he leave the country?" she questioned, though she knew exactly what Harry meant.
"Gone. Dead."
The world around Petunia shattered. Tears filled her eyes, but before they could fall she fled from the room, closing the door and locking all nine padlocks. Maybe she could lock the grief those two words caused, leave them behind for Harry to deal with.
Gone. Dead.
Remember the buried past.
Bury…Harry…Sirius…Lost…
She hoped Dumbledore was happy.
Remember…
She remembered the last.
REMEMBERBURYSIRIUSHARRYTHELASTPASTIWILLNOTTELLLIESNONONONOTHIMNONONO
Gone.
Dead.