Harry filled over an hour with his scribbles - little notes on what the Mugwump had said, and how, and how the questioning had gone. It was vital to preserve things that he couldn't call back to mind, after all. After he was sure that he had it all done, he went and found Aunt Petunia, who had been sitting in front of her television watching one of her soaps. "Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked meekly.
"Oh, I suppose you want my take?" Aunt Petunia said, running a hand through her shoulder-length hair. Harry blinked. Were her eyes sparkling? Harry nodded his assent, and Aunt Petunia continued, "Outside, by the roses." Harry fought to not wrinkle his nose. The roses were some of the most demanding of his chores, and he was never allowed to say "but it rained too much!" or any of the other reasons why they never seemed to bloom as well as Mrs. Figg's across the way. He was under no circumstances to mention Mrs. Figg's opinion, which was that she talked to her roses, and thus they liked her better.
"What did you get out of that meeting?" Harry asked, quite curious.
"He's hiding something. A lot of somethings." Aunt Petunia said shortly.
"I wondered if he'd told me anything at all, by the end." Harry said, quite serious.
"First, he didn't expect you to say no. I'm not sure how much he knows of how we've raised you - that may just be an innate superiority complex." Aunt Petunia said, and Harry found himself blinking again. He hadn't realized Aunt Petunia even knew the words, let alone could use them properly.
"Second, I'm important, somehow. Not just for what happened before I met you, either. Something's... something's the matter with me." Harry said pausing.
"Third, he wants you there willingly. That means that whatever he wants, it's something you're to do, or something like that." Aunt Petunia said, sounding a bit firmer.
"Fourth, he thinks I'm the mental equivalent of a six year old. A rocking horse!" Harry said, and Aunt Petunia stifled a chuckle.
"Fifth, there's something special. Here. I'd like to know what it is - was it something my sainted sister had done?"
"Well, we know it's not me, at least. And Sixth - I'm not immortal, and people want to hurt me. Adults, not just other kids."
Aunt Petunia frowned, "Well, you've heard the carrot... Do you really want to see the stick?"
Harry nodded, saying, "I suppose he really won't let me go to Muggle school."
"I'm afraid not, boy." Aunt Petunia said, frowning sadly at him.
The next morning, Harry wrote an acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Wizardry. He put it in the postbox, as he hadn't an owl. Somehow, he was confident that they'd find it anyway.
[a/n: Aunt Petunia is ... a few shades away from Cruella deVille, isn't she? Leave a review if you like it.]