Harry sank slowly onto the couch in the living room. Dudley had been sent upstairs, the door had been closed, and it was just Harry, Vernon, and Petunia.

"I don't know where to start." Petunia said in a hushed voice. "I haven't talked about this in years. Nobody knows the whole story..." she looked out the window.

Vernon looked concernedly at his wife. "Just start from when your sister got the letter to go to that school, or perhaps a little before that?" as much as he wanted to deny that he had any contact with the wizarding world, he know this discussion was inevitable, and despite himself, he was curious.

Aunt Petunia sighed, and then began. "Lily and I were really good friends before she went off to that school. We would always hang out in the summertime, and after school. She didn't care that I was three years younger than her, and I loved being around her. Then, one day, she got that letter. The letter saying that my sister was going to be taken away from me. But that wasn't the worst part of it. It was horrible, watching everyone seem excited that she was leaving. Happy that she was going away. I was only eight, I was too young to even grasp what her learning m-m-m-.... That meant. All I knew is that she was looking forward to leaving me. You don't know how much that hurt me.
So I turned to only other way there was, away from her. Away from anything that had to do with her, away from anything she had to do with. That school, her friends, that boy... I missed her so much. Even when I was older, when she'd come home for the summer and perfume tid-bits of what she learned, I couldn't bring myself to be happy. I was so jealous of all the attention she got. I was angry that she never shared it with me. I hated being the one that was pushed aside.
When I got the invitation to her wedding, I almost refused to go. I decided to give her one last chance. She blew it. I was ignored, pushed aside, the only one at the reception who wasn't like them. She didn't even acknowledge me as a sister, or even a friend. I was just another guest, another face.
So when I saw you, Harry, on our doorstep after more than two years of silence from my sister, I did not want anything to do with you. I hated you. I only read the letter that man wrote to see if there was any way of returning you to your people. But the words of that man softened me momentarily. He wrote of Lily and how she spoke of missing me, and how she regretted letting us lose touch. He wrote of how we were your last chance. He made me remember the love I once felt for her." Petunia's eyes welled up with tears. Her voice shook as she recalled the pain she'd kept bottled up for all of these years. "Having you here was a constant reminder of what had happened. Every time I looked at your eyes I thought about her, about how I never even got to say good-bye. It killed me. I didn't want you enjoying yourself when your mother had hurt me. I couldn't stand to see you happy because it made me think of how happy she was without me."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. After several minutes of extremely uncomfortable silence, he said, "So, uh, when did you hear... my dad... tell my mum... about the dementors," remembering what she had said last year about overhearing James tell Lily about the guards of Azkaban.

Aunt Petunia drew a shuddering gasp. "At the wedding." She whispered, almost inaudibly. "They were also talking to the best man... I don't remember much about him."

"Hold on," Harry said, and he made a dash upstairs. As he tore out into the hall he was surprised that Dudley wasn't there, attempting to listen. But he wasn't paying much attention as he hurried upstairs and began digging through his possessions. He was so distracted he didn't notice Fred and Georges absence in his room. It didn't even register that they should have been there. Finally he found what he was looking for, a thick leather bound picture album. Flipping through it, he found the picture he was looking for, and hurried back downstairs.

"Is this him? The best man?" Harry said, panting slightly.

Aunt Petunia nodded, seeming unable to speak. The tears that had been forming began to fall slowly down her cheeks onto her lap, but she made to effort to stop the tears from falling. Harry was in utter disbelief. Never before had he seen such a display of emotion from his aunt. All of these years he'd thought her to be someone who had no heart, except when it came to her son. The only thing that seemed to matter to her, aside from her reputation.

"And what was the last? That Dumbledore told you to remember in that howler-" he stopped short at the sharp intake of breath that Aunt Petunia drew.

"I'm going to go check on Dudders. He must be feeling awfully hurt after what we did to him." She said, standing up and regaining her snappish tone. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and walked out of the room without another word. Uncle Vernon quickly followed his wife out of the room. Harry was left alone and almost more confused than ever. Sure, Aunt Petunia's confession helped explain why they hated the wizarding world so much, but he still didn't understand why she wouldn't tell him about the Howler? What was she hiding?

Harry slowly got up and traveled back upstairs, taking the leather bound book with him. As he was dragging his feet up the steps he suddenly remembered that his room was empty. His heart quickened and so did his pace. Then he heard an ear-splitting scream that made his heart stop almost altogether.

Taking the steps three at a time he rushed to Dudley's room, stopping dead at the scene that greeted him. .