I'm getting bored of doing the whole disclaimer thing... You get the idea, I
didn't come up with the characters and spells and Hogwarts and so on, just
Petunia's POV.
Let me know what you think... Ideas are welcome and praise is even MORE welcome. Ha ha, seriously though it would be handy to know what people want and if anyone is reading this at all.
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'What are you doing in here Petunia?' Vernon's voice sounded steady, but his eyes flashed with anger. 'Err... nothing... just cleaning, you know.' Petunia coughed slightly nervously, then stood up smoothing her skirt, holding Vernon's gaze as best as she could. 'Well, if that's all you were doing...' Vernon trailed off, the distinct panic now removed from his voice. There was an awkward silence, interrupted only by the snuffles of a once again sleeping Harry. 'I guess I'd better get some dinner together,' pondered Petunia out loud. 'Yes, a good idea,' agreed Vernon quickly, smoothing his hair down nervously as he left to room for the lounge and the TV set. As the music intro for the evening news echoed into the kitchen, Petunia began loudly chopping carrots. She felt tears rise up into her throat for about the nineteenth time that day. She put on the oven, and switched on the blender, as she had done ever night since she heard about James and Lily. It covered her sobs enough for Vernon to not hear them. She sorted herself out, and took a swig of the gin bottle that she kept amongst the cleaning bottles. Feeling much calmed down, she began to mix Dudley's baby formula, and stir the gravy for her beloved husband's dinner.
* * * * * A few weeks later, Petunia was sitting beside Harry's crib once more, Vernon and baby Dudley playing in the park. It had become a routine; every Saturday afternoon Vernon and Dudley would spend time doing 'Father Son' activities. Admittedly, it was usually going to see the ducks and get rid of any stale food Petunia wanted out of the house, but they always seemed to come back laughing together. Petunia would stay at home, her excuse cleaning the house and minding the baby, but usually just sitting and watching him sleep. She liked to think about James and Lily. She was no longer upset, and would not cry about them. She couldn't see anything wrong with loving a memory; it couldn't come back and hurt her. Oh how wrong she was. She was startled from her thoughts by a tapping on the window behind her. She was even more bewildered to see a large tawny owl patiently sitting on the windowsill watching her through the glass. It seemed to have an air of importance, and a pleasant expression. 'But that's absurd,' Petunia told herself as she walked over to unfasten the catch, 'how can a bird have an air, or an expression?' The window now open, Petunia leaned out to face the creature. 'What do you want?' she asked, unsure about expecting a reply. The bird, of course, didn't say anything. It merely stuck a leg out to her, to reveal a piece of parchment tied to it, with an 'H' stamp on the seal. 'No...' breathed Petunia quietly. 'It can't be...' Taking the letter and thanking the now retreating bird, she pulled the window shut and tore off the wax. Unravelling the parchment, her eyes drank the words in, as if dehydrated. 'Petunia, I know that you have been expecting something like this from me. If you haven't, well I didn't think that a girl like you would be so naïve. I also know that Lily's death was a surprise to you, Petunia. Had it been four or five years ago... I know that you were expecting the letter any and every day; that would be undeniable. However, I have taken it upon myself to be the bearer of news, as I was before. Petunia, it is important that you stay true to yourself. I cannot say why in too much detail, as this could be interfered with despite my careful measures. Evil is not dead, Petunia. Lastly, and this is, I promise, my last for a while. Harry must stay with you; if not for the whole time, then at least once a year. Magic is strong in blood, and he must be saved from the falls that await him; the prophesy must favour good, Petunia. I do not expect you to understand, just remain obedient to me.' It was not signed, but she knew who the letter was from. Only he could have timed it so well that Vernon would not be in. It was still very mysterious – why would anyone want to interrupt a letter to plain old Petunia Dursley? It was all very tiring for her brain. Harry turned over in his sleep, and she turned to watch him once more. His face was unmistakeably troubled. She longed to rescue him from his tortured dreams. 'He'll grow out of them,' she convinced herself. After all, Lily and James died in a car crash, that's how he got the scar. She looked at the scar more closely. 'Such a curious thing, that he should have survived,' she thought. These thoughts were startling her – why shouldn't he have lived? Of course, as a muggle, Petunia had not quite gathered how important the boy was – to the history of magic, to the people of his world, and... in a partially unrelated way, important to her.
Let me know what you think... Ideas are welcome and praise is even MORE welcome. Ha ha, seriously though it would be handy to know what people want and if anyone is reading this at all.
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'What are you doing in here Petunia?' Vernon's voice sounded steady, but his eyes flashed with anger. 'Err... nothing... just cleaning, you know.' Petunia coughed slightly nervously, then stood up smoothing her skirt, holding Vernon's gaze as best as she could. 'Well, if that's all you were doing...' Vernon trailed off, the distinct panic now removed from his voice. There was an awkward silence, interrupted only by the snuffles of a once again sleeping Harry. 'I guess I'd better get some dinner together,' pondered Petunia out loud. 'Yes, a good idea,' agreed Vernon quickly, smoothing his hair down nervously as he left to room for the lounge and the TV set. As the music intro for the evening news echoed into the kitchen, Petunia began loudly chopping carrots. She felt tears rise up into her throat for about the nineteenth time that day. She put on the oven, and switched on the blender, as she had done ever night since she heard about James and Lily. It covered her sobs enough for Vernon to not hear them. She sorted herself out, and took a swig of the gin bottle that she kept amongst the cleaning bottles. Feeling much calmed down, she began to mix Dudley's baby formula, and stir the gravy for her beloved husband's dinner.
* * * * * A few weeks later, Petunia was sitting beside Harry's crib once more, Vernon and baby Dudley playing in the park. It had become a routine; every Saturday afternoon Vernon and Dudley would spend time doing 'Father Son' activities. Admittedly, it was usually going to see the ducks and get rid of any stale food Petunia wanted out of the house, but they always seemed to come back laughing together. Petunia would stay at home, her excuse cleaning the house and minding the baby, but usually just sitting and watching him sleep. She liked to think about James and Lily. She was no longer upset, and would not cry about them. She couldn't see anything wrong with loving a memory; it couldn't come back and hurt her. Oh how wrong she was. She was startled from her thoughts by a tapping on the window behind her. She was even more bewildered to see a large tawny owl patiently sitting on the windowsill watching her through the glass. It seemed to have an air of importance, and a pleasant expression. 'But that's absurd,' Petunia told herself as she walked over to unfasten the catch, 'how can a bird have an air, or an expression?' The window now open, Petunia leaned out to face the creature. 'What do you want?' she asked, unsure about expecting a reply. The bird, of course, didn't say anything. It merely stuck a leg out to her, to reveal a piece of parchment tied to it, with an 'H' stamp on the seal. 'No...' breathed Petunia quietly. 'It can't be...' Taking the letter and thanking the now retreating bird, she pulled the window shut and tore off the wax. Unravelling the parchment, her eyes drank the words in, as if dehydrated. 'Petunia, I know that you have been expecting something like this from me. If you haven't, well I didn't think that a girl like you would be so naïve. I also know that Lily's death was a surprise to you, Petunia. Had it been four or five years ago... I know that you were expecting the letter any and every day; that would be undeniable. However, I have taken it upon myself to be the bearer of news, as I was before. Petunia, it is important that you stay true to yourself. I cannot say why in too much detail, as this could be interfered with despite my careful measures. Evil is not dead, Petunia. Lastly, and this is, I promise, my last for a while. Harry must stay with you; if not for the whole time, then at least once a year. Magic is strong in blood, and he must be saved from the falls that await him; the prophesy must favour good, Petunia. I do not expect you to understand, just remain obedient to me.' It was not signed, but she knew who the letter was from. Only he could have timed it so well that Vernon would not be in. It was still very mysterious – why would anyone want to interrupt a letter to plain old Petunia Dursley? It was all very tiring for her brain. Harry turned over in his sleep, and she turned to watch him once more. His face was unmistakeably troubled. She longed to rescue him from his tortured dreams. 'He'll grow out of them,' she convinced herself. After all, Lily and James died in a car crash, that's how he got the scar. She looked at the scar more closely. 'Such a curious thing, that he should have survived,' she thought. These thoughts were startling her – why shouldn't he have lived? Of course, as a muggle, Petunia had not quite gathered how important the boy was – to the history of magic, to the people of his world, and... in a partially unrelated way, important to her.