Work Text:
“To Mrs. Dursley,
It is my deepest regrets to inform you of the tragedy that occurred the night before last. Your sister Lily and her family were attacked in their home. As you might have heard from her, our people have been engaged in a war of sorts with a man named Lord Voldemort, or more commonly known as ‘You-Know-Who’, and his supporters. Lily and her husband James were a part of this resistance, and their involvement made them a target. At this time we do not know how Lord Voldemort found Lily, as she and her family were under our most secure protection. Yesterday, one of our supporters went to visit Lily only to find the house destroyed and your sister and her husband murdered. We believe their son, Hari, was also a target but for some unknown reason, he survived the curse that killed his parents. As you can see, a wound was caused by the ineffectiveness of the curse, which will no doubt leave a scar. Somehow, Hari’s survival meant the downfall for Lord Voldemort. He is a hero in our world. It is for this reason that we ask you and your family to take in Hari, and raise him away from the spotlight.
I know this is an incredible amount of information to receive in a letter. Should you have any questions, do not hesitate to send an owl to myself or to Professor Dumblefore, the headmaster of Hogwarts.
Regards,
Minerva McGonagall
Hogwarts Headmistress
Professor of Transfiguration”
The letter was written in green cursive on sturdy parchment, and had been found on the front step of Petunia Dursley’s house. Or rather, the letter was on top of a bundled baby that had been lying on the stoop. Such an occurrence had been quite the shock to Mrs. Dursley, who had only sought to grab the early November’s morning paper. Instead, she had received both the paper and another child.
She lived with her own husband Vernon and their child, a boy named Dudley not much older than Hari. Petunia and her sister Lily were very much estranged, due to the fact that Lily was a witch and Petunia vowed to hate everything that involved magic. See, she was a Muggle and therefore resented Lily for having the magical skills she herself did not possess. The jealous, spiteful voice in the back of her head privately thought it fitting that Lily’s beloved magic was her downfall.
Still, the part of her that felt for her sister wept at the thought of her mangled body being found by a visitor next to her crying baby. Petunia wiped away a stray tear, and picked up her nephew whom she had laid on the sofa before reading the letter to examine him more closely. He was still asleep in his blankets, and from what Petunia could see, he looked absolutely nothing like his mother. Where Lily was red haired and freckled, Hari had black hair and dark brown skin. Petunia had never met James, but had seen a picture (a moving picture) of him on the wedding invitation Lily had sent. The Dursleys has agreed right away to decline the invitation. Not only was the wedding to be magical, but also interracial. Now, Petunia held the offspring of that marriage cut short. In addition to his features that seemed unseemly to Petunia, almost the entire left half of Hari’s face was covered by a fresh cut that started at his hairline and branched out like a bolt of lightning. Petunia couldn’t help but think what a pathetic looking child he would become.
Hari must have felt his aunt’s scrutinizing gaze, for soon enough he gave a small yawn and opened his eyes to return her stare. Petunia gasped and nearly dropped the boy when he did this, for his eyes were nothing short of unnatural.
His right eye was brilliantly green in color, just as his mother’s had been. This resemblance might have been enough to touch the last of Petunia’s humanity had his left eye been the same. Instead of green, this eye was almost completely white. The pupil and iris were fogged over from where his scar continued across the eyeball’s surface. The boy began to wail in confusion as both eyes flit around the Dursleys’ living room, but only saw about half of it.
Petunia tried to hush him so as to not wake her husband and child, but to no luck. She heard Vernon’s heavy footsteps as he got out of their bed and started down the stairs.
“What in God’s name is all that racket?” he whispered loudly from the staircase.
Petunia just looked up at him, trying to summarize the situation in a way that makes sense. “My sister, she and her husband were attacked. Their son survived.”
She held out the letter to him. She could only imagine what was running through Vernon’s mind as he glanced between the letter and the wild looking toddler.
“We’re not keeping him, we already have a child of our own,” he said sternly.
“I don’t want him anymore than you do, but please, Vernon, he doesn’t have any other family – Lily is dead –“ she protested. Somewhere above them, Dudley began to wake due to the noise.
Vernon sighed angrily, but with an air of defeat. “We’ll talk about this later, when it’s not bloody six in the morning. Bandage the boy’s face, if you insist on keeping him. I’m going back to sleep, and I pray that Duddy will too.”
For the next several weeks afterwards, Vernon tried to find an orphanage or adoption agency that would take the boy, but to no avail. Looks like they would be raising the small, scarred, Indian boy themselves.