Summary: Petunia Evans never expected to find a baby on her doorstep one dank London day. Now she has to cope with raising a magical child on her own – because she never married Vernon Dursley those two years back…
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine – the plot idea might be. I'm not sure if anyone else has had the idea before me. Anything you don't recognize (such as Sean) is likely to be mine, and I suspect any mistakes you notice in story canon are mine too. Everything you do recognise, such as HP, etc, are J.K. Rowling's. I also don't own Adam and the Ants - although I wish I did. -grins-.
Warnings: Slight swearing. Not that long a chapter.
Not the Best Start – Chapter One
Petunia was sitting down, staring blankly at the elegantly scripted words that flowed in bleak black ink before her eyes. Harry had been soothed off to sleep on her bed, in a frustrated exercise that had taken well over an hour, and Petunia had finally settled down to read the letter that had been left. She had been expecting something about how her all-too perfect sister was going off on a holiday to some wizard place, and oh, would Petunia look after Harry for a while? Her hands tightened around the parchment, crumpling its edges slightly before she absentmindedly straightened it again.
Ms. Petunia EvansWe regret to inform you that your sister and brother-in-law, Lily Rhianne Potter (born Evans) and James Michael Potter have officially been declared dead, cause of deaths unknown as of the moment…
Petunia had never expected to receive a letter like this. She'd spent some time fingering the obviously expensive seal that kept it closed, wondering if all wizards liked to show off their wealth this obnoxiously, before breaking the bumblebee symbol in half. The wax had crumbled over her fingers, sliding off them in an unnerving experience that even Petunia could tell was magic – and if there was one thing Petunia disliked (if not hated) it was magic. Magic had broken her away from Lily, taken her sister from her. Magic had put a barrier up between the two of them – and now magic had killed her sister.
The chosen guardian of Harry James Potter has unfortunately been named unsuitable, as he is currently in Azkaban for the confirmed homicide of thirteen muggles and one wizard on Hallow's Eve. As such, you are the nearest blood relative that can be declared suitable for the raising of a child, and so Harry James Potter is to be put in your care.
Oh, and that had made Petunia feel so much better. She came second choice to an insane mass murderer. Some confidence her sister showed in her. Petunia fumbled with the letter, her fingers smudging the black ink as she thought. How was she supposed to look after a child anyway? She was single. She had to go out and work for God's sake. She couldn't take some kid to work, and she couldn't exactly leave him here – she'd get the social services shoved on her. Couldn't he go to someone else?
We are thankful for the co-operation we are sure you will extend, and leave you with all well wishes for the future and our condolences.
Minister of Childcare, Eric Fiddle, of the Ministry for Magic.
Petunia could only think one thing as she read and reread the letter – bloody bureaucrats. They just didn't understand that they couldn't dump a kid on a person with no warning who had no way of supporting said kid. Someone up there was laughing at her.
She checked the envelope carefully, and frowned as her fingers discovered a thin piece of parchment that she could have sworn wasn't there before. Biting her lip, Petunia hooked it out, making full use of her long nails as she scraped across the texture.
Still frowning, she opened the letter and watched as ink swirled into easily readable words, in far contrast to the beautiful but illegible writing the 'Minister' person had sent her.
Miss Petunia Evans,
My name is Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. By now I am sure you have heard of the unfortunate deaths of your sister and her husband, and would like to extend my deepest sympathies for the sorrow you must be feeling. I am sure it would be some comfort to you to realise that they died fighting against the darkest wizards of our time – and their sacrifice will be remembered for years to come.
Some comfort! Petunia scowled, but couldn't help but feel a few of her ruffled feathers being soothed. His attitude was far more comforting and personal than the first letter, even if it was slightly too personal for her own satisfaction. She didn't even know the man, yet he talked to her as if she were a close friend – or, she was forced to admit, the sister of a close friend.
However, I am sure you have a more pressing concern on your mind – that of the guardianship of Harry James Potter. We believed you would be by far the best guardian for Harry, as, although you are a single, working woman-
How did he know that, Petunia thought, irritably, glad to have found something to be angry about. Was he stalking her? Having her followed? She glanced around her flat in a paranoid fashion, just daring there to be some sort of camera or something hanging from her ceiling.
You have the advantage of being related to Lily (and by default, Harry). This is very important, as there is a certain ritual we need to perform to ensure the safety of both you and Harry – it's known as blood protection magic.
Ensure the safety? What was that about? Was she in danger? Did Harry have many evil enemies, like some Mafia people come to shoot him for… doing whatever various dangerous things babies can do? And she didn't like the sound of this magic thingy…
This will do no harm to you – it simply means that no witches or wizards with hostile intentions can come within two hundred metres of your flat. We need this protection – many dark wizards will be after Harry as he has become a symbol for our people. He defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort, whom both Lily and James died fighting, and came out with nothing but a scar on his forehead – that lightning bolt scar that you have no doubt noticed.
To be honest, Petunia was forced to admit she hadn't seen any lightning bolt scar on Harry. Then again, she hadn't really been looking that closely – she thought that probably said something about her. Thinking again, however, she noted something wrong with this scenario. Her one-year-old nephew, who could barely gurgle out words other than 'Muma', 'Da', 'Pafoo', 'Mooey' and 'Wormail', had supposedly defeated this Dark Lord Volde-whatsit when his parents had died fighting him? That was… more than slightly unnerving.
To activate the blood protection spell, all you have to do is take Harry into your home and mix your blood – no more than a drop is needed.
Oh. Ew. Petunia absolutely hated blood. And cutting a baby was just mean. She had a feeling that she wasn't thinking comprehensibly, through the shock. Although, of course, this could just be her subconscious' way of screaming 'HA! WHO'S PERFECT NOW MISS PERFECT PREFECT LILY! YOU'RE DEAD! HA!'
…If that was the case, her subconscious was starting to scare her.
Petunia glanced up, her eyes catching on the white clock she had hung on the wall, and she swore. Half ten. She was so late for work. She was going to be maimed. Or something equally distasteful – like being hanged, drawn and quartered.
She couldn't stop herself from glancing back over the letter again though, reading over the last few sentences uncertainly.
There are a few wizards living near you. If there are any problems with Harry, I'm sure they'd be more than willing to help – but only talk to them if they can come within two hundred metres of your flat without sustaining any harm. If they cannot, go back to your flat and call out 'Blood lolly' twice whilst standing next to your fridge – someone will come within ten minutes.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
There were wizards living near her? Petunia shuddered at the thought, and glanced back up to the clock again. If she was quick, she could probably run to work, drop off her article and come back before Harry died or something…
She frowned at the thought. Leaving a baby by himself seemed an oddly callous thing to do, and she suspected it would take over an hour or two to get everything sorted out. Absentmindedly chewing on a stray strand of blonde hair, Petunia made her way to her bedroom, looking at Harry Potter sleeping contentedly on her bed, his black hair an unruly mess as he gurgled happily in his sleep. Unexpectedly, her heart melted, cooing the schoolgirl's obligatory 'Aww' upon seeing a small child.
Well, it wouldn't hurt to look after him, would it? She could get a babysitter in or something – and this stupid 'blood protection' thingy didn't sound too hard…
No. Oh no. She was not going to fall in this stupid trap just because some irritating baby happened to look goddamn adorable when he was asleep. Babies were nothing but trouble – and he was magical. So he was probably going to be even more trouble.
Baby, her subconscious cooed, and Petunia attempted to fwap it down irritably. She failed, and with a sigh went on search for a needle of some sort. Seemed like she was keeping the kid, and if she kept him she'd have to do this magic ritual thing.
She yelped as she prodded her finger several times, failing to draw blood through her own squeamishness. With a wail of protest however, she finally managed to drive it deep enough in for a drop of blood to well to the surface.
Now for the hard bit… Petunia approached Harry, trying to ignore the guilt that niggled at her and prodded one of his fingers with a needle – and Harry woke up to echo her earlier wail with one of his own. Trying to cover both of her ears with one hand, Petunia quickly smeared the two bloody fingers across one another, and watched with bated breath as a barely visible blue glow flared up before dissipating slowly.
Harry continued to screech, and awkwardly, Petunia picked him up, jiggling him carefully as she had seen other mothers do occasionally. This simply seemed to distress Harry all the more though, and his green eyes scrunched up as he shrieked as if in agony.
"Oi, can't you shut it in there?" a voice called insolently from the doorway – and Petunia could have sworn she had shut the door when she'd come in. Turning to look, she recognised the speaker as one of those teenagers who'd dumped school and come to live as a group in one flat. She couldn't be more than seventeen, with streaks of blue running through greasy brown hair and a metal stud pierced through her left eyebrow, above dark eyes. She was wearing scruffy clothes – ragged jeans and a t-shirt – and as she continued to slouch at the door, Petunia was struck by an idea.
"Know how to look after kids?" she asked her, and the girl nodded in faint bemusement. Wasting no more time, Petunia shoved Harry into her arms, and the girl juggled him in shock, finally hugging him close to her skinny frame.
"Here," she said. "What's with this? I just wanted you to shut the kid up, not give him to me."
Petunia snorted. "If you look after him until… five o'clock, I'll give you a fiver," she bargained. The girl had been let through whatever Bumbledore had called his magicy thing, so she couldn't be evil – and she'd managed to stop the brat from crying.
"Tenner," the girl said, narrowing her eyes, and Petunia didn't bother arguing.
"Yeah, okay," she said, moving to grab her briefcase. "I'll pay you after, alright? And what's your name?"
The girl had no time to protest as Petunia began rushing out, and instead was left to yell out behind her, "Name's Sean!"
She paused and glanced down at Harry, who was now beginning to snooze off in her arms. "And don't you go laughing at it or nothing," she muttered to him belligerently, ignoring the fact that he had made no reaction to it. "Anyway, I don't even know your name."
Harry made a wet blowing sound and Sean snorted. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Act innocent, why dontcha?" She glanced over to Petunia's ticking clock and made a face as she saw it was just nearing eleven. She had Harry for another six hours.
"Okay then," she muttered. "Let's go introduce you to some decent music, hey?"
Not long later, the sound of Adam and the Ants could be heard all over the block of flats.
Thanks to Meta Capricorn for, as always, being a faithful reviewer, to Crissy Potter, to Shinigami (and in answer to your question – no, she's too young. Wish I'd thought of that at the time though. –shrugs–), to Millie-mione and to Thoughts and Pondering. Your reviews were much appreciated.
And, as always, reviews for this chapter would be warmly welcomed.