This story was actually a homework assignment for one of the communities I'm at on livejournal. If you have an lj, you should join. Just search underscorebelong in the search bar. Thanks :)!

And yes, this is a one-shot. I won't be updating it again.

If anyone were to be walking down Privet Drive, on an early November morning, they would not have noticed anything unusual. The sun was shining (as only a sun can shine at 6 o'clock) and there was a hearty breeze ruffling the leaves on the sidewalk. Birds were just starting to chirp, and all of London was stirring.

But if one was to peer at Number 4 as they strolled passed, their eyes would have landed on a tiny bundle resting near the front door. What could it possibly be? They would think. Won't the Dursleys be surprised! And everyone knows how much they hate surprises. It was certainly the truth.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were the meanest people living on Privet Drive. The former was very fat, with a plethora of chins, and beady eyes; the latter was too skinny, with rather large front teeth, and a very long neck. Together they were loud-mouthed and nosy; all of their neighbors loathed them. That's why, if someone happened to be out and about, they would wait gleefully for Petunia to rise; the look on her face would be priceless.

At precisely 6:30, Petunia did indeed open the front door, to set out milk bottles. Her scream echoed throughout the street, shattering the quiet that enclosed the surrounding houses in a fortress of peace. The bundle stirred, and tiny wails began to mix in with Petunia's whimpers, and sporadic breathing.

Vernon Dursley appeared at the door, to him only mere seconds after his wife screamed, but in reality five minutes. Gazing down at the porch, he clutched his hand to his heart, and, with bulging eyes, turned to Petunia.

"What's the ruddy meaning of this?" He wheezed, still quite out of breath from running out of his bedroom all the way downstairs.

"Well I don't know!" Snapped Petunia, bending over and removing some of the blankets. A letter was revealed, which the horse-faced woman picked up with trembling fingers.

"Go on, read it!" Vernon said gruffly.

Petunia glared at her husband, but complied. Her voice was shaky as she read out loud—

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

It is with my deepest sorrows, and the most unfortunate circumstance that I am writing to you. Lily Potter, your sister, Petunia, was killed last night, along with her husband. They died at the hands of Lord Voldemort, a Wizard, who, along with the aide of his followers (Death Eaters) tried to take over our world.

This concerns you and Vernon, because as of now and forevermore, you are Harry's only living relatives. Lily and James both died in hopes that their son would live, and, not to place any pressure on the both of you – but if you refuse Harry shelter, their deaths will have been in vain.

If you do indeed open your arms to your nephew, who has nowhere else to go, more than one life shall be saved. Voldemort was stripped of his powers last night, but he is not gone forever. I have placed a spell (do not be alarmed, for it shall not affect you in any way) upon your home which, if Harry can call it home as well, can protect him. You see, it was love that enabled Harry to live, and it is love that will continue to let him live.

I know that you did not particularly like Lily, but it would be an insult to her memory if you were to kill off her only child. Do not take my words lightly, for the outcome of the Wizarding world – perhaps all of England – is in the hands of this young boy.

With deepest sympathies,

Albus Dumbledore"

"No." Said Vernon immediately.

"No?" Repeated Petunia, slitting her eyes.

"Just as I said. No. I will not have some... some ruddy wizard endangering my Dudders! This is bloody nonsense, Petunia. The whole lot of them are! Dump him with someone else! Who is this... Dumbledore bloke, anyway?"

"I remember him," said Petunia quietly. "He came to our house one evening to prove that Lily's letter wasn't some prank. The first thing he said to me was, 'would you like a Lemon Drop?' and I was scared stiff – so I didn't answer."

Vernon shook his huge head angrily. "This bloke will not be ruining our lives, thank you very much. I refuse to... to..."

Harry started to cry.

"Vernon, I'll not argue over this," said Petunia in a defeated voice. "We have to take him in. He stays."

Growling, Vernon said, "fine! See if I care! But he's going in the cupboard."

"Alright," Petunia whispered, as she bent over to pick up her nephew for the first time. Harry smiled at her.

"What the bloody hell is on his forehead?"

Petunia traced the scar lightly, mumbling under her breath. Vernon turned and rambled to the kitchen, saying loudly, "I still don't see why we've got to take him..."

"Because I loved her." Said Petunia bitterly. "I loved her and was too jealous to admit it. Because mum and dad were so proud of her. I was nothing to them anymore. She took it all away – and I still loved her." Glaring at Harry, Petunia continued. "I hate you, you know that, right? You're the only thing of Lily that I have left, and I hate you for it. I- I never even got to apologize."

With that, the bony woman placed the baby on a small wicker chair in the hallway, and left to go find one of Dudley's old cradles. All the while, Harry cooed softly.

The only reminder of a memory.