Chapter 1

Petunia Dursley was not your average women. Of course, she was still perfectly normal, thank you very much. But normal and average do not have to be synonyms. She understood how the world worked and how everybody would see her husband and reflected it upon herself. And petunia was not stupid; she understood that most people would see her husband as lazy and as dumb as a brute because of his size.

She also understood that women were thought to stay at home and do chores and cook, but

Petunia was a smart woman. She found herself a job and not an undemanding one either. rather she worked as a bank teller, even if she was slightly preferred by most, heckled by men that wanted to put her down, and women who are glad to see her.

Waking up one morning, she slipped on her robe, and woke her husband, who had been sleeping next to her. Walking down the stairs, she quietly peeked into her baby's room - Dudley had a tantrum earlier that day, something over not having candy in the house. He cried the whole way to the market, and even more once he realized she was not there to buy sweets. Looking at him now, she could see that his baby fat was becoming into just fat. She told herself to scold Vernon. He loved spoiling the babe. How was a boy to learn restraint with such a doting father!

Continuing down the steps, she went to the kitchen. Petunia unloaded the dishwasher, finished scrubbing the cast iron frying pan, as she doesn't have time to do so the day before, dried it, and poured a new batch of oil in. After putting the pan to heat, the next step of her rather simple morning routine was to get the milk.

Once the door was open, Petunia quickly looked around the neighbourhood. Mrs. Number 8 had been sick lately, but she was out seeing her husband of to work. Across the street, Ms. Number 3 was washing her dogs while her niece chased her nephew with water balloons. Rather early for such young kids to be up, but she couldn't judge - they were active, yet quiet enough not to wake many.

Overall, a normal Sunday.

Petunia set the empty milk bottles on the baby lying in the basket. The basket that did not belong on her front porch. Petunia quickly moved the jugs, watching as a poorly insulated blanket pulled up with them. There was a small baby - maybe 20 pounds, around a year old - curled up in a too big jumper with small socks on his feet, and small, likely soiled underwear poking out of the sweater. A soft orange blanket dropped a few feet away.

Leaning down, she scooped the babe out, seeing a letter under him, but rather focused on the cold limbs, too cold for a child this size. With a small shriek - a terrible habit she had whenever something concerned her, starting long before, in her teen years - she scurried into her house and grabbed the afghan spread over the living room couch. Wrapping the baby, she strode to the kitchen. Carrying Dudley around had bulked up her arm muscles, and this small weight felt barely heavier than a stack of laundry.

Turning the gas stove off, she retrieved the letter and sat on a kitchen chair, rocking the babe in her lap. Once she got a good feel of the leathery paper, she realized with a dawning horror, the heavy parchment wasn't something you would buy at the local shop. She was almost certain it was wizarding parchment. Petunia remembered it - from when she brought in the mail on a certain summer day when Lily was eleven to Vernon's birthday card the Potter family had sent about a year ago.

Taking a deep breath, she dug her finger under the wax seal popping it off quickly. While she knew it was just the dormant magic in the thing that made it so easy, she'll ignore it and pretend she's just good at opening mail.

Mrs. Dursley,

What a pleasure! I don't believe I've written in 10 years! However, I'm not here for chit chat, and there are some rather somber topics for me to tell you. But none of them really matter! What's important is Harry!

So let me give you a run down: Dark Lord Voldemort has just been thwarted in the Potter Cottage, in a small village called Godric's Hollow; you've likely haven't heard of it. But Voldemort wasn't the only one killed. It brings me great sadness to tell you that your sister, Lily, and her husband, James, were killed by Voldemort minutes before his own death. Baby Harry has been left all on his own :(

In fact, Harry here somehow caused the death of the Dark Lord! And he has no place in the Wizarding World for another 9 or so years. Do take care of him for me!!

Ta-ta,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

P.s. Don't kill the baby, it would be quite disappointing if all my efforts go to waste.

"What?"

Petunia was losing it. She already guessed that the baby sitting in her lap was her own nephew, but the fact that Lily was dead had yet to sink through to her. At least it was a Sunday. Bankers don't work Sundays. Well, to be truthful, she worked only till noon, every weekday. Vernon was always extremely busy, working until evening before even thinking of coming home. Someone needed to be doing chores and taking care of Dudley, and they couldn't pay for a babysitter and a maid.

Harry gurgled in her lap, and looking down proved that he was waking up.

Shaking her head, she decided to start doing something instead of sitting in bewilderment at Dumbledore's horrid attitude. She never did like him, the doddery, pretentious wizard had always spoke like he was a God, and all of his manipulations would have no repercussions.

That's it! Petunia knew exactly what to do. She would raise Harry, just as Dumbledore wanted, but she raise him smart, slick, everything Dumbledore thinks he is himself. He would hate that. Of course, she would have to welcome Harry, if she wanted him to have 'muggle-exclusive' smarts, like logic. Wizards are extremely stupid at times.

Standing up, she let the afghan unravel and fall onto the chair, still holding the now warm child in her arms. Strutting the stairs, she quickly went to her bedroom. Vernon was still half asleep, sitting on the bed with his eyes staring unseeingly at the carpet. They really needed to get some wooden floors. Mrs. Number 2 had installed them a few months ago, and she said that clean up was much faster, and the only real con was how much her little girl slipped around when wearing socks.

Petunia handed over the baby to a confused Vernon, reading the letter aloud. By the time she finished, Vernon had realized that he was holding his nephew, and a weird look crossed his face. Plucking the squirmy - yet quiet, thank god - babe from his arms, she looked him straight in the eyes.

"We need to start planning."

So this is chapter 1!! Sorry its so short, I was gonna add the planning but nkbowing me it woulda taken 6 more months and i didnt want yall (all like, 20?? 40?? of you) to wait!! Please review!!