Harry sat in the small, dusty crawlspace under the stairs atop the lumpy child sized bed, with his long legs pulled up to his chest. He was counting the panels on the 'ceiling'. Thirty one panels to the right of the door there would be two knots a long one that resembled the number one and two more round ones that looked like the number eight. Seven up from that there would be a loose panel. When he pushed it up, inside there would be a composition notebook and a four color ink pen. In that book, from ages six to twelve he had written all of his innermost thoughts and feelings, which included songs and poetry. When the coordinates were reached (it was only then that Harry realized that the numbers coincided with his birthday), he got onto his knees (he no longer had to stand on his tip toes to reach) and sure enough the book and pen were still there. As he put the panel back into place and sat down a loose page fell out of the dusty book. On it was one of his later entries written about a week before his Hogwarts letters started to arrive. He was ten and the entry was about the two weeks he'd spent with Vernon and Dudley, alone. Petunia was away caring for a sick Marge and Vernon had taken full advantage of the situation. It read . . .
July 12, 1991
Aunt Petunia is coming home today. I heard Dudley cheering while talking on the phone with her. Uncle Vernon has gone to pick her up. I guess aunt Marge got better. I don't know if I should tell her about how Uncle Vernon has kept me in here practically everyday since she left. Or how he beat me so bad that he almost had to take me to the hospital. I don't think she'll care very much about that. But I think she will care if I told her about the other night when Uncle Vernon came in and made me do things to him. At school they told us to tell someone. But Uncle Vernon said if I told he'd kill me.
The journal entry suddenly ended there. When he turned over the paper, scribbled very sloppily was the date and the eight words.
July 13, 1991
Maybe I should've just kept it a secret.
Old memories flickered behind his eyes like a broken movie. Memories he'd suppressed since having to deal with Voldemort among other things. . . Petunia had come home later that day and he'd worked up the courage to tell her about the incident. When she confronted Vernon he called him a 'filthy little liar' and had beat him to the point of unconsciousness. As he divulged deeper into his psyche he remembered something he hadn't before. Petunia had come into the cupboard later that night while he was hovering in and out of consciousness and had gently cleaned his wounds and stoked his face, all while whispering 'I'm sorry Lily'. Petunia never went away again. And the traumatizing incident never occurred again.
Harry lied the page down beside him and shuddered softly. Now that he thought about it thought Petunia had her moments, she actually stopped a lot of dreadful things from happening to him. As he read on each entry brought back a memory he'd suppressed. True, it was for good reason. Many of the entries had to deal with incidents with his cousin and countless acts of child abuse a-la his Uncle Vernon. Tucked away there were a few good memories. Like the time when he'd been allowed to go with them to the petting zoo for Dudley's 7th birthday. Sure Dudley had coaxed a goat to chase him around the pen, but when the llama bit the chubby boy he was able to enjoy the rest of the trip. Or like the time he went with them to the carnival and a nice lady paid for him to get on several rides and even helped him on a game in which he'd won a stuffed bear that Dudley had taken once they were home.
"Funny" he thought "I probably wouldn't have remembered that if hadn't read this"
This was true. Obviously while suppressing memories those had gotten pushed into the depths of his mind.
The journal ended on July 2nd 1992 the day before Dursleys had given him the smaller of Dudley's rooms. Just as he finished he heard Vernon and petunia's door slam and Petunia's shrill voice.
"Who did you tell him she was?" Petunia asked curtly
"His cousin"
"Cousin, Vernon? Come now they look exactly alike. How do you expect him to believe that? He's not stupid"
"He won't see her then. I'll keep them both locked up here"
"Vernon no" Petunia pleaded "He has to know"
"No he does not. We don't need him knowing he has an ally here! They'll do us in like she did Marge! You know they will. The boy's bitter Petunia"
"Nonsense, they wouldn't Vernon" Petunia stated "And if he's bitter its because of you! You know Marge had heart problems! I tried to get her on a diet but of course she wouldn't have it. She was convinced she was fine. Her heart couldn't take it and you know that's what killed her"
"No, I don't Petunia. I spoke to Marge just days before she passed. She told me she'd never felt better and the doctor had said she'd lost eight pounds. I asked her had she been taking her medicine and she told me she had.How do you explain that one!"
"It just wasn't enough, Vernon" Petunia answered simply
"Because that 'girl' did her in! She killed my sister! You know she goes to a school like the boys. They'll get us both, I know you know. that's why you're cozying up to the boy now."
"Vernon!" she hissed "He's my nephew! And I think he needs to know that Hayleigh is his sister!"
Harry felt as if he'd been hit with a ton of bludgers at one time. So it was true all of his suspicion was true. Hayleigh was his sister. He pressed his ear ever harder to the air vent grate, even though his face was numb. He had to know more.
"How dare you defend their abnormality, Petunia?" Vernon roared
"I-"
"I won't have it!" the fat man screamed and minutes later The sounds of his aunts pain filled screams echoed through out the house. Following that were several gasps and then finally her gagging." You'll tell him nothing UNDERSTAND? Both of them will know nothing of this ! I'll kill them both if they find out, and then I'll kill you. Understand, Petunia? Understand!"
"Yes" she gasped once he let her go.
"This is for our own good, Petunia. I just want you to understand that" he huffed
The conversation died down after that and all Harry was left with were lines across his numb cheek. He had a sister. He wasn't the last of this family. He slid back onto the bed and instinctively knew that come hell or high water he was going to get to her tonight, all he had to do was wait a little bit.
