Chapter 8

October 26, 1990

The third anniversary of Harry's curse on Four Privet Drive is only six days away. Beyond the expected turmoil and recriminations, the curse surprisingly mirrored the opening of Pandora's box in some aspects. Instead of releasing all the evils of humanity, it revealed Vernon's character flaws and helped Petunia to recapture hope. These revelations weren't made overnight, but the lone resident of this house, as it hasn't been a home for quite some time, still dwells on thoughts every so often of her soon-to-be ex-husband.

Picture perfect romances filled with undeniable happiness from the moon and back colored Petunia's early formative years, but life rarely imitates art. For as long as she can remember, her younger sister, Lily, had fair looks and a brilliant sunny personality who easily captivated each and every boy to cross her path. Throughout the years, example after example proved that no male was immune even if they were the object of Petunia's affection. Every crushing disappointment hardened her heart and she steadily grew more averse to fairy tales. Eventually believing that they're nothing, but a beautiful, alluring lie.

In the real world, there's no line of suitors enthralled by her beauty. No handsome prince valiantly coming to the rescue. No everlasting love with the perfect match. Instead there's one young man who is visibly overweight and nowhere near charming enough to turn her head, but he, unlike so many before, says she's beautiful. Though hailing from a respectable family of meager beginnings, he has a vision for the future and is quite ambitious. Between passionate embraces and heated kisses, he professes undying love. For a time, she is able to ignore the belief that fairy tales are a lie.

Yet, she is now broken, lost, and alone. No advanced notice or openings for reconciliation only a short, measly letter spelling out divorce. Thirteen years, thirteen long years wasted on a faithless, cowardly buffoon.

One ill-fated leap of faith, a date with Vernon Dursley, haunts her. For nearly three and half months, regret weighs heavily on her mind, never leaving even a second of peace.

Ironically, their marriage ended just as abruptly as it started.

Unexpectedly during her junior year of college, preventative measures failed and she fell pregnant. Becoming a mother at that stage in life was never in the realm of possibility. She had plans, but no child of hers would be an afterthought so naturally everything else was secondary. This included reservations on marrying Vernon; she turned a blind eye to the circumstances which led to their engagement where Vernon followed her father into his study and the closed oak door couldn't muffle the loud, heated exchange. Still several weeks later they married.

Unable to bear the thought of shamefully walking on campus heavy with a child, she withdrew from classes and hoped to return the following fall semester. Unfortunately, tragedy struck in 1978 when her parents were away on vacation in Ireland. They along with 10 others died during the IRA's orchestrated bombing of the La Mon restaurant. The shock and devastation caused her to miscarry.

Several debilitating months passed before Lily, her estranged sister, arrived on the scene as if a godsend. Having another person truly understand the loss of her parents and to reminisce over cherished memories helped her overcome one grief. Luckily it also opened the door to healing the emotional damage from her miscarriage plus the years of jealously and animosity between two sisters. The past was put aside allowing a tentative, fragile friendship.

In 1979, just a few months later their amicable relationship abruptly ended. The Marauders, childhood friends brought together by their mutual love of pulling pranks, was created by James Potter (Prongs), Sirius Black (Padfoot), Remus Lupin (Moony), and Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail). As if a powder keg waiting to blow, months of tension between the five men starting at an engagement dinner eventually culminated into a full out brawl during Lily and James' wedding reception. Due to the seating arrangements in having close friends and family together, separation was impossible. A simple muttered comment lit the fuse setting already short tempers aflame. Vernon could never let an insult pass and Sirius hardly ever needed more than the slightest provocation. As a former amateur boxer, Vernon held up quite well under the onslaught of multiple fighters and was actually winning until James pulled out his wand.

The altercation then passes a point of no return when Vernon's clothes vanished along with his underwear. Several guests including the Marauders guffawed in amusement. As if this weren't bad enough, it became worse when Sirius twirled his wand and seconds later Vernon wets himself in front of everyone. Though Lily returned Vernon's clothes and verbally thrashed the group, it was too little and too late. Vernon had been utterly humiliated and stripped of his dignity. Needless to say, she ignored the Potter pregnancy announcement and decided not to inform them of her second pregnancy.

Overwhelming fear of losing another child plus the constant urging from her in-law's family to become a good housewife and good mother left her conflicted on whether she should complete her undergraduate degree or not. Of course, the underlying message was based on allowing Vernon to finish his studies; with no explicit conversations on gender roles, it left her with only one plausible conclusion. As Vernon witnessed their comments first-hand and never once refuted their ideas, she took his silence for agreement. She caved and it was the first in a long line.

In the present with four months into separation and another twenty months away from divorce, possibly longer, Petunia wholeheartedly believed that she had blindly bought Vernon's happily ever after like a fool. In hindsight tinged with clarity instead of bitterness, she realizes that the fault was actually a series of bad choices beginning with settling for Vernon. Though several devastating events beyond her control derailed plan after plan, she allowed each distraction to sweep her off course instead of staying resolute in achieving her goals. It may have taken thirteen years, but the lesson is learned and won't be forgotten again.

If there's one thing she regrets, then it is the fact that she shed the Petunia Evans persona long ago and lost herself by becoming Petunia Dursley. She no longer recognizes the former and abhors the latter. With the tethers which tied her to the confining role as a good wife now behind her, she is free to make and pursue plans which bring her true happiness. Whether she succeeds or stumbles, at least she can be proud of the journey. However one goal will remain, being a good mother to Dudley.

She's failed herself and her son. The life she leads isn't one that she planned, but there's still time to change it and she will.

March 29, 1991

Near midnight several thousand miles away at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the headmaster's office once an airy, inviting wonder is now a cluttered dumping ground of various scrolls and tomes. Between the chairs, tables, and even the floor hardly any surface is left untouched. Each stack varies widely in height, age, and language with no easily identifiable pattern of organization.

Seconds later a large thick tome slams shut and launches across the room towards a few precariously stacked books which tumble over onto the floor. At the claustrophobic inducing epicenter, Albus Dumbledore sits behind a dark walnut, renaissance desk wholly unaffected by the mess.

He only sees a room filled with dead ends and failure.

While the childish tantrum is cathartic, his situation remains dreadful. On September 1st, only a little over five months away, Harry Potter is expected to attend Hogwarts. There's a shrinking window of time in which to find Harry, discern any questionable beliefs, and indoctrinate him into an approved light path. The odds of this actually occurring are not favorable especially since there has been no actionable intel in the past three years.

Almost simultaneously, the roaring fire shifts from an expected orange appearance with a crackling background noise to a distinctive green tint followed by a resounding whoosh. The incoming floo should have been impossible as it was on lockdown; he swiftly raises his wand ready to defend himself. Within moments, Alastor Moody enters the office. As a self identified survivor, the retired Auror fiercely fought during the last war though he didn't escape unscathed. All scars and even missing body parts including the loss of his leg are proudly displayed as if a badge of honor.

Though decidedly not a foe, the password for emergency entry was given to select members of his Order of the Phoenix more than a decade ago. Any legitimate need for a safe haven is no longer applicable as the opposing faction ceased implementing deadly guerilla warfare tactics against Order members. More than slightly annoyed, Albus plans to correct this oversight posthaste once his unexpected visitor leaves.

Like clockwork, Alastor sweeps the room with his uniquely constructed, magical eye in order to reveal the presence of any invisible traps and hidden parties. Well familiar with his visitor's paranoia, he patiently waits and no words are exchanged. Albus eventually allows a congenial smile to grace his face when the one-time auror visibly relaxes his stance. With no credible threats, he flicks his wand in order to remove the fine layer of soot added during floo travel.

Before Albus can even utter his words of welcome, Alastor loudly sniffs the air and interrupts by stating, "What the hell is that smell?!"

Without a care for the mess, he determinedly navigates around the room with a slightly unsteady gait. A heavy thudding noise follows his every step as the wooden prosthetic leg impacts against the floor. His search pushes the room in further disarray, but within seconds, at least one culprit is found. He picks up a book covering a plate filled with rotten, half-eaten food. Gravity causes the smelly congealed mass to partially separate from the book cover and fall onto another book littering the ground.

Alastor scrunches his face in disgust, "Really Albus?! When is the last time that you allowed the House Elves in here? Better question, when's the last time you showered? You look awful and the rank odor isn't only from the food. No wonder you're not allowing visitors; this place is a disgrace."

Once the overwhelming tirade finally stops, Albus responds saucily, "Hello Alastor, I must say your chipper, nonjudgmental presence has been sorely missed. What may I do for a visitor who shows up uninvited and out of the blue?"

With a throaty chuckle, Alastor says, "Skirting the pleasantries, lackluster appearance, and a weak repartee are far from the usual my crafty friend. You're definitely in bad form today and apparently for quite some time. Forty five minutes ago, we had a meeting scheduled with Pyka and you never appeared."

"Aah yes, the Serbian syndicate known as the Hand. I knew something had slipped through the cracks. Well, don't leave me in suspense; tell me that you've found someone else to continue the search?"

"What do you take me for? There's always someone else and the meeting was rescheduled for tomorrow at 2 pm. Expect me to ride your arse if you miss this one too. Anyway, the problem is whether we have time for another useless search."

"That's fair. Upon your timely arrival, I just finished an exhaustive search of the Hogwarts library. The vast majority won't work for one reason or another. And the last two options are too dark and destructive. Until a last resort is needed then it will be as if neither existed. At this point, our best bet is to employ those who live or were educated outside of the UK."

Clearly seeing where the conversation is headed, Alastor replies,"Farkas, the alumnus from Durmstrang, who managed to confirm that Potter is on British soil somewhere in London, but behind strong wards."

"Yes, out of a dozen hires, he was the only capable individual worth a second notice. His expertise was a real boon in shrinking the search radius from the UK to London, but the city is too large. Over a year with targeted surveillance of the popular, high-traffic wizarding locales and nothing to show for it. Of course that doesn't take into account private residences. Perhaps our luck will change tomorrow when we inquire about using his services again."

"And if he can't pinpoint the boy's exact location?"

Albus directs eye contact towards Alastor and states, "Then we will wait for the summer solstice and acquire the address when Hogwarts creates the invitation letter to prospective students."

"The problem is far from solved especially since we're essentially waiting to the last minute, but at least we have a plan of action and a backup should things fall apart. Well my job is done. I'll see you tomorrow at the usual spot."

Within a matter of moments, Alastor floos away.

Just as the fire transitions back to orange, Albus twirls his wand in a zig-zag pattern while uttering, "Signum Partum Cinis".

Once wholly alone and safe from receiving any additional unwanted visitors, at least by floo,

he lifts his right arm and takes a quick whiff. Almost immediately his face contorts in disgust. With a put upon sigh he utters, "Pip."

After the singular sharp cracking sound, a nearly one meter tall male house-elf appears.

"Please prepare a hot bath to be ready within the next five minutes. Oh and alert the other house-elves that any restrictions on my office have been lifted."

Author's Note: "Signum Partum Cinis" is my version of altering the floo password to 'Ashes' in Latin. Signum stands for Password, Partum stands for create, Cinis stands for ashes.

FYI - Harry will make an appearance in the next chapter.

Reviews are welcome.