While it had been quite easy to re-stack and re-organize things in the cupboard to make space for the basket and converting a low shelf to a changing station hadn't been hard, Petunia knew that eventually Harry would grow and need all the space she could find for him. Petunia was reasonably certain that Vernon would not be letting Harry into a regular room if he could help it. She set herself the task of removing one thing from the cupboard every day. Some things could, in fact, be thrown out—as long as she took the time to bury them deep in the rubbish bin so Vernon wouldn't see them. Other things could be relocated to different closets and storage areas. By going very slowly, Petunia hoped to accomplish her task without Vernon noticing.
Petunia found that Harry slept less than Dudley, which was quite fine with her. She scooped him out of his basket, changed his diapers and took him with her for morning coffee and the news. This gave her a chance to get him fed before Dudley woke up. She found that devoting any attention to Harry when Dudley was around had unpleasant results. She learned to change Harry's diaper while playing "Peek a Boo" with Dudley to forestall any crying.
The differences between the boys were striking. Harry was already walking when he came to the Dursleys, while Dudley had difficulty even pulling himself up to stand. Harry being able to walk had caused Petunia no small amount of concern considering the state of his cupboard. She had devoted the better part of one morning to clearing the floor of dangerous looking items she now had on one of the uppermost shelves. The boys had spent that morning together in the playpen. She knew that Vernon would not approve of them being put together, but it was her only hope of getting anything done. As she watched them interacting, almost playing with each other, Petunia knew it was too much to hope that they would ever think of each other as family. Vernon would, she knew, make sure Dudley looked down on Harry, treated him with scorn.
Petunia often asked herself if this life was fair to Harry. She knew that he would probably hate her as much as anyone for the way he was going to live. Harry was and would always be a second class citizen in this house. Really, not even second class. Petunia thought that class belonged to her. Harry fell somewhat lower on the ladder of acceptance and concern than even she did. There had been one bad day that first week when she'd picked Harry up and, without thinking, said "Here we go, Harry, dear, let's get you changed" only to learn a quite painful and memorable lesson: Harry was not to be called "dear" or indeed, to be spoken too with anything resembling affection. That, she learned, was to be reserved for her son, not the unnatural son of her unnatural sister. Some days, ignoring Harry didn't seem to be enough for Vernon. Petunia found herself heaping idiotic endearment on top of idiotic endearment at Dudley trying to satisfy Vernon. "Duddlikins" "Dudders" "Duddlywuddly"…she was embarrassed to hear herself. But Vernon was happy with it. Petunia could only imagine how this must be for Harry and she wondered if—someday—she might get the chance to tell him why he'd lived this way, why she had treated her own nephew so poorly. There seemed to be little choice. Petunia knew how unfair it was, but that letter had made it sound like a death sentence for both him and them if they sent him away.
As Harry grew, Petunia came to almost enjoy their mornings together. It wasn't long before he was able to help with setting the table and putting out food. Petunia remembered how she and Lily used to fix breakfast for their parents whenever they wanted something. First toddling and later striding about the kitchen putting spoons and napkins in place—even taking a hand at cooking bacon and eggs—Harry reminded her of the sister she'd lost. He didn't look like Lily at all, really, until he looked at you. Then you could see it. Lily's eyes, staring out of a face that had to have belonged to the man she'd never met: James Potter.
When the boys went off to school, life around the house settled down some. At least now, Lily got a few hours to herself. She was better able to keep up with the demands of housework and caring for Vernon now. Overall, a fairly stable routine was established.
Of course there were some issues. One day Harry had brought home a note from the office saying that a routine eye exam had shown he needed glasses. Petunia looked at the note with surprising dread. She could tell Harry was confused. How could she explain to him that it was these seemingly simple things which could end up costing her dearly if she made the wrong choice? She knew what Vernon would do: mark the box requesting government assistance glasses. Obviously he would never consider spending his own money to take Harry to an optometrist for nice glasses. Yet, if Petunia were to simply mark the box and return the note to school, Vernon might view that as making a family decision and she was absolutely not allowed to make family decisions. But, if she asked Vernon what to do, she would undoubtedly be informed of her stupidity and given a lesson to help her remember to never be stupid again. Things like this required planning and consideration.
Petunia had left the note on the counter for Vernon to discover himself.
"What's this then?"
"Oh, the school sent it. Harry needs glasses. Stupid, really, to send a note. Why don't they just fix him up with the government glasses? It's obvious that's all he needs. But, you know bureaucracy, they have to have papers for everything….so, will you be signing that or would you like me to do it?"
Petunia tried to keep her face neutral while she watched Vernon. She thought she'd phrased it perfectly. It wasn't a matter of Vernon being unwilling to put money into glasses, it was a matter of Harry not needing him to. It was Vernon's note to sign or give over to her to sign. She had shown she wasn't stupid and she'd shown it was Vernon's job to make the decision. She hadn't said Vernon was being cheap.
She could see he was parsing her words carefully, looking for some reason to be critical. He growled a bit as he realized there was nothing there.
"Yes, well…very well, why don't you handle it?"
"Of course." Petunia quickly marked the box and signed the note. "Harry, take this and don't forget to give it to your teacher tomorrow."
"So, I am to get glasses, am I?" Harry'd asked.
"Yes, Harry, you're to get glasses."
"Will Dudley be getting glasses too?"
"No."
"I thought I never got anything Dudley didn't get first."
Dudley had burst out laughing. "That's because nobody wants glasses you stupid git!" Petunia stiffened, and looked to Vernon. Surely that wasn't going to be overlooked? Surely Vernon would chastise his son? Petunia knew not to say anything herself, but she never imagined that Vernon would tolerate such nastiness in his home. She was wrong.
"Stupid weak eyed, git. Don't you mean, Dudders? See, Harry, Dudley doesn't need glasses because Dudley has strong eyes. Gets it from his dad. When I was young, I could see things a mile away. People from good parents don't have to wear glasses until they get old, Harry. Not like you."
Harry had run out of the room in tears. It took all of Petunia's self control not to run after him to, to hug him and tell him it was okay to wear glasses and it didn't mean his parents hadn't been good. She knew what would happen to both her and Harry if she did that, though. She had gone to the kitchen to get herself under control, using the excuse she needed to "do a bit of clean up."
Petunia considered sending that Dumbledore person an owl asking if he could make other arrangements for Harry. If it were done right, if Vernon could be convinced that it was now safe, surely Harry would have a better life somewhere, anywhere else.
This wasn't the first time Petunia thought about sending Dumbledore an owl and it wouldn't be the last. For one other thing was preying on her mind. There was no question, she thought, that Harry was magical. Even as a baby odd things had happened. Toys that were in Dudley's playpen had shown up in Harry's cupboard. Despite the 2 foot high fence she had strung across the door to keep Harry in his cupboard, sometimes he had shown up at her feet in the kitchen. The fence never looked like it had been disturbed. Harry had simply appeared in the kitchen.
Vernon, so far, had managed not to notice much. He was convinced there was something wrong with Harry's genes because—in addition to needing glasses—the boy always had messy hair. Petunia had cut it a number of times to no avail. Once, Vernon had cut it down so short the poor boy had looked like he'd been in a concentration camp, but the next day it was all grown back.
Petunia remembered things like that happening to Lily. She didn't want to think about what would happen when Vernon finally saw the truth.
