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Chapter 12: Petunia & Lily, or, a Glimpse of the Truth

{And Harry, I think it's about time we have a talk with your Aunt, don't you think?}

Aunt Petunia, it seemed, held the answer to a lot of questions: how did she know about Voldemort? His parents' death? Who left Harry at the Dursleys? What other secrets did she hold?

Harry decided to corner Aunt Petunia that evening. Harry found her reading some papers in the living room and stood in the doorway, waiting for Aunt Petunia to notice his presence. Finally Aunt Petunia looked up from the papers and saw him. Harry noticed her eyes were red and puffy; she had been crying.

She looked nervously at Harry, all the while her eyes darting to the door and to the windows. Harry wanted to laugh at the irony of it.

But it seemed that Petunia had more guts than people credited her for when she quietly said, "Good, you're here. There's something I'd like to tell you."

She took a deep breath and said, "We, I mean Vernon, Dudley and I will be going for holiday next weekend. You will be staying with Mrs Figg as usual." She didn't look at Harry in the eye when she said it.

{She's hiding something.}

'What do you mean?' Harry asked but Voldemort didn't answer. He had forgotten Voldemort couldn't hear his thoughts anymore.

"How long will you be gone?"

"A week."

"When will you go?"

"Next Saturday." She replied almost automatically.

Harry frowned. Something was wrong but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The summer vacations were not unusual. Every summer usually the Dursleys will go on a holiday vacation, without taking him of course, often to the beaches nearby, twice to the beaches in France and just last year Uncle Vernon took the family for a five-day trip to Majorca (Aunt Petunia simply had been unbearable).

That's it, thought Harry. Usually Aunt Petunia will be unbearable all the way until the day of the trip, always gushing about how nice of Vernon to took time off work, spending time and money with the family, how nice to be able to escape the dreary life for the sun and the sea, spending time with precious Diddykins, until Harry was simply sick of hearing about the upcoming trip. It didn't help either that Dudley gloated after the trip, showing Harry pictures of the family enjoying themselves.

This time however, Aunt Petunia didn't look happy at all; she didn't even tell Harry where they will be going.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Aunt Petunia? Where will you go for the trip?"

She finally looked up at Harry. "Paris."

And then Harry was hit with the images of Vernon shouting; of papers flying, of Aunt Petunia shouting back at Vernon.

Harry staggered. What was that? Did he saw... Did he really just read his Aunt's mind? He was just standing here in the doorway...

{Ah. Your Aunt is really upset about something. The holiday maybe?}

Harry stared into his Aunt's eyes. They were mixed with emotions; fear, anger, and... pleading?

More images flashed in Harry's mind. He could clearly see Uncle Vernon, his face purple with anger, shouting. What was he shouting? Harry tried to hear his voice. Yes, Vernon was angry that the freak, him, dared to hit him in his own house. That he couldn't stay here while always looking over his shoulder, scared shitless of a ten-year old boy. That- that no good freak will kill them in their sleep, in his own house!

Aunt Petunia, shouting, pleading. Always pleading, crying, Don't throw him out. They'd find us. They will.

Vernon throwing papers. The ultimatum. Just leave the freak here!

And Harry understood. Uncle Vernon was so scared of him, of what he had done. Wanted to leave him here, to fend for himself.

For a brief moment Harry felt so happy that he didn't have to live with the Dursleys anymore. He'd have the house to himself! Then ice cold sensation hit his chest...

{Yes, what about the protection? The wards? Will it stay when your mother's blood relative move away?}

Harry started. Had Voldemort able to read his mind again?

Aunt Petunia looked away. She didn't notice Harry's pale face.

"Aunt Petunia? Are you leaving me here?" Harry, feeling faint, slowly walked over to Aunt Petunia and sit across her.

Petunia had looked shocked at the question but quickly recovered herself. "It's only for a week. You'll stay at Mrs Figg's like usual. I'll inform her tomorrow."

Harry stared at his Aunt and he was hit with another flurry of images.

More papers. Letters to and from Grunnings, the drilling firm where his Uncle worked. Uncle Vernon talking to Petunia, explaining. Uncle Vernon who had begged for transfer to the branch in Paris (any branch outside UK really, out of reach of those people), and he didn't even care if he ends up with a slightly lower position, as long as he can leave the freak behind... He could always work back to that position he said...

And then Harry understood. They will use the vacation to look for a home there... before leaving him here.

More memories, thoughts... Aunt Petunia, torn between getting rid of the freak, and leaving her home where she had stayed for over a decade. Going for a place where she didn't know anyone. Can't communicate with anyone (she didn't speak French, if they managed to move there). And what will happen to darling Dudders! He will have to transfer school! He won't like it, leaving his friends behind! And so Harry saw where Dudley had been hiding the past few days: at his friend's, Piers' house.

Ah, yes... Aunt Petunia had always doted on Dudley and loved him more than anything... Harry could feel himself wanting to shout, why couldn't she love him like that?

And what was he supposed to do now? Uncle Vernon was scared of him. Aunt Petunia hated him. Dudley, well, now scared of him as well. They were now leaving him here. With Voldemort. Now they will take away the only protection he had over his parents' killer...

Harry wished they could all forget about the incident, his rage. Harry wished they didn't hate him. Harry wished they loved him like their own...

"Why did you hate me so much, Aunt Petunia?" Harry finally asked, after the silence stretched uncomfortably.

Petunia Dursley looked over at her nephew. Lily's son. Lily's eyes.

She looked away. Too much hurt.

But Harry, unconsciously, had already delved into his Aunt's mind... Memories of Lily, his mother. Beautiful, kind, intelligent Lily... Petunia, who loved her little sister, so close they were inseparable... Lily, who met a strange boy, who took her away from Petunia, taught her magic, strange things... Lily, who was special, a witch, who left her to go to a special school, a privileged school. Lily, who had drifted away, leaving her. Lily, who was loved by everyone, doted on by her parents. Petunia, who was overlooked. Always. Lily, the one who got everything... Beautiful, kind, intelligent, gifted with magic... Gifted with everything... And on and on...

Loneliness. Jealousy. Bitterness.

And Petunia, who didn't have anything, neither looks, nor intelligence, nor magic... Did she have a kind heart initially? Harry thought that yes she did, but perhaps she had lost it along the way...

And then Lily snagged the rich, handsome Potter boy, and Petunia didn't even bother to come to her wedding. Why should she? For Lily to rub it on her face? Petunia, married already to Vernon. Vernon, neither rich nor handsome, but had work hard and managed to get a respectable job. And who loved her for all she is. Lily didn't matter anymore; her freakishness and her people didn't matter.

Dudley, her son, born. Her precious, darling son.

The bundle on the doorstep. Harry. Lily's. And all the memories keep repeating...

Harry closed his eyes. He somehow understood, he thought. Wasn't it the same feeling he had when he saw Dudley with Aunt Petunia?

Harry felt like crying.

Who had left him here? To someone who could have never love him, for too much bitterness was there? Didn't they know? That they all would end up miserable? Wasn't there other place where he could be safe, and loved?

Petunia was staring at Harry strangely. He had looked paler than before. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing, nothing... Aunt Petunia, I just wanted to know," Harry steeled himself, "Did you know who put me here? The one who left me on the doorstep?" Harry was always reminded by his Aunt on that little fact.

Petunia was surprised with the questions. Her first thought was to scold him, but then she remembered his rage, his red eyes... And she didn't have to face him anymore, if Vernon had his way...

"Yes. Your people. Dumbledore; the headmaster of the school your parents went to. He just left you, a baby, outside on the doorstep like a milk bottle. Right in the middle of the cold night! No common sense at all. He simply left a letter telling me everything, and instructing me to take you in." Petunia sniffed.

Dumbledore again...

"Can I see the letter?"

"I already burned it."

"Why did you take me in after all?"

Petunia hesitated before answering wearily, "We tried finding you an orphanage the next day. We didn't even manage to get two blocks away from here. That man Dumbledore came and did something... magic... and he said that he can always find you wherever you are. Will know if something happened to you... And he said as long as you're here, you will be protected from those who wanted to kill you... for revenge for their fallen Dark Lord... And then of course Vernon got angry, why should we take you in, risking our lives, why can't your people took care of you and their own problem?"

Petunia continued, "Well then, he said we are already at risk as I was related to Lily. To Lily and her magic! The thing that kill her in the first place! And he said by letting you live here, yes, we would be protected as well, as the blood that runs in my veins is related to the blood in yours... And so against our better judgement, we agreed." Petunia crossed her arm in defiance.

And Harry saw an old man, tall, thin, with a long, white beard, wearing half-moon spectacles. He was wearing some kind of a dress, a garishly purple dress, with moon and stars moving around. Really moving, thought Harry.

{That's Dumbledore.} Obviously.

In his fit of anger, Vernon had tried to attack Dumbledore but the old man waved his wand and Vernon went completely rigid, bound by invisible ropes. He couldn't move a muscle, not even a squeak can come out of his mouth. Only his eyes showed genuine fear.

No wonder Vernon was afraid of magic, came the thought, unbidden.

After watching Dumbledore did something outside the house- the wards, and thus had fulfilled his half of the promise, protecting the Dursleys and him, Harry felt that he didn't want to know anything anymore...

Harry abruptly left the living room and the bewildered Aunt Petunia, feeling increasingly wretched.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

In the darkness of Harry's bedroom that night...

{You know, Harry, it wasn't your fault that they didn't love you.}

Silence.

{It wasn't your fault that you were born with magic either.}

More silence.

{Nor it was your fault that your Aunt and Uncle hated magic...}

"I know!" Harry wanted to scream, wanted to kick something. Why did he have to face this situation? Why did these kinds of things keep happening to him? Did Fate hate him so much?

What should he do, he miserably wondered. Would the protection stayed without Aunt Petunia here? He would only know when the golden dome surrounding Voldemort disappeared, and by then it might be too late. He didn't know exactly what would happen if the protection disappeared, but he can bet that Voldemort would control his body, or his mind, or both, and made him do something even worse than torturing the Dursleys. Things that he'd regret forever. He might not even be himself anymore. And now he's still not powerful enough to face Voldemort and defeat him, this time forever.

Harry sighed. He really, really hated his life.

Harry wished his life would change, and he could be a normal boy, living in a normal family who loved him. Harry wished Aunt Petunia didn't hate him. Harry wished she loved him like she loved Dudley. Harry wished she could forget that he had magic, that she had hated his mother.

Harry wished he could make Uncle Vernon forgot that he had tortured him... forgot that he had hated strange things, magic, so that they didn't have to move away...

Harry simply wished he could change everything...

And then he realized... Magic. Magic caused this in the first place, hadn't it? So magic should be the thing that could solve this, right?

And so it began.

A/N:

Next, Petunia's regret.