Disclaimer: I own nothing, just playing with HP world in my mind, no money gained.

AN: Trigger warnings for this chapter; starvation, isolation, child sexual abuse – all non-descriptive but all mentioned, character death, physical violence. Please do not read if this will bother or offend you.

Chapter Two – Until Death Do Us Part

Petunia Dursley had everything she had always dreamed of; a beautiful manicured lawn, a well-maintained house, a devoted husband, a smiling son, the envy of her neighbours, and enough gossip about same neighbours. It was normal.

After not being allowed into the wizarding world, Dumbledore had refused her request to be with her beloved sister at Hogwarts, it was all she could do to not turn that pain into sorrow. They had taken her sister from her, first Severus Snape, then Hogwarts, then James Potter and finally, forever in death, by a mad-wizard – their world. Hatred and bitterness consumed her thoughts when she could bring herself to think of her precious baby sister. How could she not think of Lily when, with even a single glance at the girl, those eyes looked back at her.

The girl represented magic and loss. She did magic. Not often, just little things that was not normal. How could she forget and live in a normal world if the girl never, ever let her forget.

Those eyes…I must protect those eyes…Lily's eyes…Lily! ..I can't lose you again…

With her whole body shaking, trembling like a leaf in a turbulent storm, lightening running up and down her body, feeling heaviness within her soul, Petunia dropped the telephone onto the counter with a clatter. Her vision tunneled as she started towards the hallway out of the kitchen. Just a few more steps…yes, now up the stairs…one stair at a time…

No, I can't look…I don't want to believe…

Petunia's white, shaking hand reached for the bathroom doorknob, and hesitated. Then with a deep breath, thinking only of Lily, she drew herself up straight and tall and opened the door.

"Vernon, what are you doing?" she screeched.

Vernon, purple with rage, interrupted yet again, turned and snarled, "Nothing pet, just teaching the girl her place."

"That is not acceptable Vernon!" cried Petunia as she stood just outside of the bathroom doorway. Evidence, undeniable, staring her in the face. How could he? ...why? With a sigh Petunia asked, "Why Vernon, just tell me why?"

Eyes narrowed in rage and passion stared at Petunia. Bellowing loudly Vernon replied, "I will eradicate every single part of her unnaturalness any way I see fit to! Her blood is tainted and must be cleansed. She is less than nothing and only doing her duty for being allowed to live with us. Just go make breakfast. The girl will be down shortly to help you."

As he turned away, Petunia yelled, "No! She is my sister's child-"

Fast as lightening Vernon slapped Petunia across the face. As she staggered back across the hall into the wall behind her, she heard, "You will not tell me what I can or cannot do in my home with my property. Now, go make breakfast and don't you ever talk back to me again."

Who was this man?

In eight years of marriage she had never before seen this person as clearly as now, even as her eyes smarted with tears and blood dripped from her split cheek. Her hands rose towards him, palms up, beseeching him listen to her, "Vernon, I cannot allow this to continue. Please, stop this, at least for Dudley's sake."

Threateningly he advanced towards her as she slowly backed towards the stairs, every step in synchronization. Getting into her face he screamed, "You will not stop me and I will teach Dudders to enjoy it as much as I do! He will be a real man who knows how to treat those beneath him!"

With a shove of his hands to her shoulders, a wailing cry from her lips was heard throughout the house, as she tumbled down the stairs.

Sprawled on the floor, Petunia dazedly looked up the carpeted stairs as the enraged man started down. Every thundering footstep he made caused her head and cracked ribs to pound. With a groan and now frightened for her life, Petunia tried to stand and fled towards the kitchen, her sanctuary in this house. Gasping loudly into the air, clutching her broken left arm to her chest, she swiftly entered the kitchen, looking for any escape available. The back door was open from when Dudley had left.

She felt a hand shove her towards the stove. As she cried out in terror and pain, her head hit the exhaust fan above the stove. With blood dripping into her eyes she looked down and saw the cast-iron frying pan…Was it just a few minutes ago I was starting to make breakfast on a normal routine day?

With no thought to what she was doing, her right hand grasped the handle of the pan and swung it upright towards the person trying to kill her, twisting her body completely around.

Looking up from the floor she was sprawled upon, all she could see across the hallway from the kitchen was Lily's wide frightened eyes.

With no thought or glance at the hand-twitching, profusely bleeding crushed skull of the man lying on the floor, she crawled over the body towards the girl…

With a crash of the front door, the police arrived to witness a kneeling, crying, bleeding woman rocking a naked complacent little girl in her arms gently saying repeatedly, "Lily…I'm so sorry. I didn't know…I'm so very sorry…please, forgive me…don't leave me again." Looking past the two they could see a very large man lying dead on the blood covered floor.

-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-

Ten minutes later Petunia sat at her kitchen table playing with a napkin ring clasped in her right hand trying desperately not to stare at the blanket covered corpse on the blood stained tile. She didn't know where the napkin had gone.

"Ma'am…we really need to get you looked at. Let's get you to hospital." said a gentle concerned male voice. Looking up she looked into the eyes of the police officer sitting across from her, she had refused medical treatment other than for the blood running down her face.

Flinching she stated, "I don't deserve your concern. I'm not a nice person. I have been so wrong to her. They will take her away from me. I will deserve the pain of that." They had already taken the girl from her. "Please where is she? Is she ok? Not that I deserve an answer, but she is all I have left of my sister. I don't want to lose her too." she rambled in a quiet voice.

"Ma'am is there anyone we can call to help see you through this? We saw a boy's room. Where is he?" the quiet voice asked.

Gasping, eyes wide in fear, with a trembling voice she said, "Dudley! My son, yes, I sent him next door to Mrs. Martin's. I sent him away to be safe…he hit him, his own son. H-H-He planned to make him do that to the girl too. H-h-how could he? H-h-how could I do what I did?"

Looking lost and forlorn Petunia bowed her head towards the table and cried bitter tears of regret.

Turning to another officer the policeman requested the social worker to get Dudley from next door.

Petunia quickly raised her head and pleaded, "Don't let him in here! Please, don't let him see what happened."

"No Ma'am. We wouldn't do that. Let's get all three of you to hospital now. Come, up you get, you can all go together in the same ambulance." The quiet male voice reassured her. With a gentle arm guiding her from the table, he walked her to the ambulance out front and towards the girl.

With a sigh, he closed the ambulance door on the four within: a slightly burnt-out social worker, determined to see right prevail; a mother/aunt, regretful and in shock over the revelations of that morning; a son, fatherless and scared; a girl, strangely quiet and calm. This was going to be a lot of paperwork. He would make it a point to be at the trial, to be a witness for the woman. From what he had seen and heard she had risked her life for the girl – to finally do right by her. Shaking his head, he wondered why after 10 years on the force, he was still shocked at what happened behind closed doors. He couldn't wait to hold his little girl in his arms. Lunch time, yes, at lunch time I'll take the time to go home and hug my wife and little girl.

-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-

In a small room sitting at a table, the social worker turned on a tape recorder and gently talked to a little girl.

"Sweetie, my name is Ms. Litstone. You can call me Sally if you wish." Without looking up the girl just nodded her head but remained silent. "Can you tell me your name?" asked Sally.

"Girl." the whispered voice said.

"Well, I know you're a girl, honey, but what are you called? When you are called to do something or go somewhere what name is used?" questioned Sally.

"Girl. Freak."

Shocked Sally sat stunned at the answer. "Sweetie, don't you know your name?" With a shake of her head the girl continued to look at her tightly clasped hands. "How old are you then?"

The girl shrugged her shoulder in reply.

"Well, do you remember your last birthday party? Do you know how many candles were on your cake?"

With a tiny sigh, the girl stated, "I'm not allowed to have a birthday or cake. I'm just a freak. Dudley had a birthday cake, it was so pretty."

"Honey, I just have to step out for a minute. I'll be right back." With a trembling in her body, Sally Litstone turned off the tape recorder and walked out of the door, carefully closing the door behind her. She was furious at the treatment of this little girl. She needed information and she wanted it now! Pushing herself away from the wall she had been leaning against she went in search of the Aunt. She would get her answers and she would protect that little girl.

-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-LP-

"Mrs. Dursley I have some questions for you." Sally tried to keep her voice calm as she stalked through the doorway into the interrogation room. Closing the door she sat at the table. Quickly turning on the tape recorder for her session with the Aunt, she placed her folder full of papers on the table.

"Yes, of course. I will tell you everything. Just please, c-c-can you tell me if she is ok? Please tell me I stopped him before…before he could…and my son, is he ok too?" tearfully asked Petunia.

Petunia was a sorry sight to see. A three inch gash stitched closed on her forehead, another gash on her cheekbone stitched as well with a black and blue bruise radiating outwards covering the left side of her face, her left arm in a cast as she sat stiffly in the chair trying to breathe shallowly so as not to move her tightly taped torso where her cracked ribs were. The pain killers were wearing off and she was in as much agony mentally as physically.

Sally was surprised. Maybe there was hope in this case after all. "What is the name of the little girl living with you? How old is she?" she asked. If the Aunt cooperated she would answer her questions, eventually.

With a small sigh Petunia answered, "She goes by the name of Harry, Harry Potter. She is four and a half years old."