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Harry sat down on his bed. "They're thinking of putting your dad in office?" he said

incredulously.

"Yeah," said Fred, settling himself back in his chair. "Weird, huh?"

"More unexpected, I'd say." Said George.

"But... why?" Harry asked.

"What? Is there something wrong with Dad?" said Fred.

"No, no, that's not what I meant!" said Harry hurriedly.

"I know, I was just kidding." Fred said reassuringly.

"I meant, why him? Why not someone like Dumbledore?"

"You know Dumbledore would never leave Hogwarts. Mainly because he's there to protect you, but he still would rather be Headmaster than Minister of Magic." Said George.

"Yeah..." said Harry slowly and wistfully. He sighed

"What's up, mate?" Fred asked.

"Nothing." Harry said automatically. In truth, there was so much wrong. There was so much on his mind that he felt his brain was fit to burst. There was the fact that he no longer had a godfather. There was the fact that he was stuck at Number Four, Privet Drive until 'Dumbledore said' he could leave. There was the fact that he longed for his best friends company, and he could not see them or correspond with them until he saw them in person. Then there was the fact that he had no idea how long it would be until he could leave. Then there was the emptiness that had consumed him all summer. How much he wished he could turn back time and take back that whole evening in June. How much he wished he'd practiced his occlumency so he never would have had that vision.

Then there was the fact that he hated his fame and everything that came with it. Harry hated the Daily Prophet, he hated everyone that worked there, he hated how they all just jump on the nearest bandwagon, first reporting lies about him, then turning around and making him seem like the hero again.

There was the fact that his parents were dead and their killer was back, ready to kill Harry.

There was the prophecy that Harry heard for the first time. The reason Voldemort killed his parents. The reason Voldemort wanted to kill him. "Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives..." How was he supposed to keep all of this to himself?

But then, who was he supposed to tell?

The obvious choice was Ron and Hermione. But how could he explain this to them? How could he tell them that his fate had been sealed and he had no way of changing it? What was he supposed to do to make them understand? Harry couldn't think of anything.

"Harry?" said Fred, jolting him out of his reverie. Harry looked up.

"Yeah, sorry about that." He said, returning his gaze to the floor. After a few moments of silence he cast around for a new subject, landing on Fred and George. "So what are you guys doing here?"

Fred glanced at George, then back at Harry. "We... are here on a... a sort of mission."

"What's that?" asked Harry.

This time it was George glancing around. "We can't exactly tell you yet." Harry's anger, which had recently settled somewhere out of sight, began to surface. This was exactly what had happened last year. George, sensing Harry's anger, quickly said, "No, mate, don't get mad just yet. What I meant was you are sort of supposed to find out later. tonight. Or tomorrow. You'll see soon I promise." Harry opened his mouth to say something hotly when he heard his name being called from downstairs.

Aunt Petunia's shrill voice rang out again. "Harry Potter!" she screeched. "Get down here this instant!"

"That can't be good." He muttered to himself. Turning to Fred and George he said, "Guys, er, stay up here, will you? If I need you I'll call, but it's best to not test my aunt and uncle's tempers any more than necessary..." The twins nodded and Harry went into the hallway and went downstairs into the kitchen. He was greeted by his aunt, uncle, and cousin. Dudley was sitting in a chair, looking smug, but still a little worried. Petunia was looking furious, and Vernon looking livid.

"Diddy tells us what you've done to him." Petunia started.

"I haven't done anything." Harry said hotly.

"He said you used your... your... your thing on him." Said Vernon.

"I've already told you! He picked it up off of the desk!" Harry argued.

"What a rotten little liar" Aunt Petunia sniffed. "Little Diddy would never do such a thing."

Harry gave a mirthless laugh. "You really are quite stupid about your son."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Uncle Vernon growled.

"It means," said Harry, "That you swallow al his dim-witted lies about what he does each night. Do you ever wonder why he is out for tea so late each night? Or why he comes home smelling like smoke? Or how come there are so many bullying reports at school?"

"STOP!" yelled Dudley, getting to his feet.

"Or," Harry continued, ignoring his cousin, "Why he suddenly lost so much weight over the course of the year rather than gaining it?"

"I said to shut it!" shouted Dudley.

"Dudders, be quiet, you'll alert the neighbors!" Aunt Petunia. Both she and Uncle Vernon were gaping at Harry, who was grinning at Dudley's fury. He knew perfectly well that Dudley had lost weight because of the boxing, and the diet that he had been put back on this summer. But the truth still remained about the other things.

"You just have your noses to high in the air to notice anything wrong with your son. You're eyes notice every last detail of anything I've ever done wrong, but you've never noticed how Dudley brags about getting away with anything he pleases-"

"Now hold on just one second." Interrupted Uncle Vernon. "Are you saying we've raised someone who-"

"I'm saying," said Harry, "That those in glass houses shouldn't throw rocks."

"Well, then maybe," Petunia snarled, "You can get out of our house."

"Good idea." Uncle Vernon huffed.

"I can't..." Harry said blankly. "You know I can't. Dumbledore has told you, if I leave, and I never come back, what could happen."

"Then I wish you would die." Hissed Aunt Petunia. "Better off dead than spreading horrible rumors about Dudley. At least we wouldn't have to put up with you. At least you never would be our responsibility again, like you never should have."

Harry was doing his best to control his anger; he knew if it got the better of him the results would be catastrophic. "You shut up." He said in an even voice. "You have no idea how much I wish I could leave. You don't give a damn about me, you never have, and you never will. You never gave a damn about you sister, MY MUM, you never cared about anything." Aunt Petunia stood frozen, but sixteen years of hatred rose up in Harry, and he couldn't stop now. "You're only wish for me is that I would leave. Trust me, I want to. But I don't have a say in this. I never have a say in anything around here. Believe me, I wish I could get away. I wish I had somewhere to go, to get away from the reminders that you don't and never will care about the only family you have left." Petunia remained motionless.

"You have no idea what I went through with my sister." She said after moments of silence. "You don't know what it was like for me to watch my sister be the special one. You don't know what it was like for me to lose a best friend at such a young age. I hated watching her grow resistant to me because of what I wasn't" She sniffed. Harry was now the one who was shocked. Harry could see the tears forming in his aunt's eyes and realized for the first time how much explaining there was to be done.
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 perform 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 George's 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.

Author's note: cliffie!