Chapter Text
Number Four Privet Drive (in Little Whining, Surrey) is anything but strange. In fact, it is the perfect image of a normal British family. The perfect story book ending for a woman named Petunia Dursley.
Every rose bush, every brick, and every blade of grass artfully manipulated to fit what she desired– Normalcy. The only shift in her average life was when the seasons changed, but she didn’t mind that. It was normal for the seasons to change. However, what came with this winter is something that certainly was not normal, and it would burn her story book ending to ashes.
So, when the snow turned heavy, and coated the yard in a fine powdered blanket, Petunia expected it. She expected her rose bushes to wither from the cold. She expected the frost to coat the windows at night. And she expected the bricks on her house to be frigid to the touch, and glitter from the ice that covered them. It was normal for the seasons to change and if they hadn’t then Petunia would have been concerned.
No, what caught her concern tonight was the soft crying she could hear outside her door.
She walked over to the door, her pink slippers muffling her footsteps as she stuck her ear against it. Petunia stilled for a moment, holding her breath.
There it was again, a soft crying.
She released her breath, rubbing a hand down her face as she went to open the door. The soft light from the hallway spilled out into the night, clashing against the dark surrounding the porch.
Blearily, she looked around, squinting into the dark night. It wasn’t until another cry came that Petunia decided to look down at her feet.
A bundle wrapped in soft golden cloth laid on her doormat, an envelope sitting neatly beside it.
She blinked at it, frozen at the sight. Only when the bundle moved did she snap out of her stupor and reached down to grab it. Meticulously, she unwrapped the golden blanket and stared at the child’s face that was now blinking up at her.
Impossibly large green eyes stared up at her as the child now cooed at her. Its face was pink, closer to red from the cold that it was left out in. Looking at the child brought an unbidden memory of Lily and her watching Snow White late at night. Giggling and whispering about it as they tried to not wake their parents, wrapped safely under warm wool blankets– she blinked.
The soft black hair twirled around the child’s face, framing its delicate features like the fluffy down of a bird. Innocent green eyes staring up at her with such blatant love that she had to look away for a moment.
It had the same eyes that Lily has.
She felt her teeth grind together as she tensed up. Her insides coiled at the thought, and now she has a feeling of why this child was left on her doorstep. Petunia looked down at the innocent white envelope that was delicately sitting on top of the snow on her porch.
Slowly, she reached down to grab the letter, her fingernails digging into the envelope and easily wrinkling its crisp edges. She swiftly tore it open with one swipe of her finger and pulled out the letter, letting its damning words present itself to her.
My Dear Petunia,
It is with a heavy heart that I am to inform you that your sister and brother in law passed away at the Dark Lord’s hand. They have grown to become the best of wizards and witches that anyone would be proud to have known. They were the same brave lions in the end as they fought against the Dark Lord, to protect those that they care about, which includes you and their dear son, Harry.
When you were young, you were so eager to be part of the world that your sister lived in. You once craved a place in the wixen world alongside Lily. Now is your chance, the Dark Lord has not been fully vanquished and while he lives, Harry’s life is in threat.
An ancient magic protects Harry through the blood of his family, of which you are. This magic can only be done by you, no other wizard or witch has the power to do so.
It is with a humble heart that I ask you to care for the boy, as Lily would have done for your own son.
Yours Truly,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Her hand shook as she crumbled the letter in her fist, her nails biting the palm of her hand. This child would ruin everything for her, everything that she worked for and cared for. It doesn’t matter what she wanted in the past because they always denied it from her. And now since she got what she wanted– her dream, her story– they wanted to ruin that for her too.
Petunia’s grip on the child tightened as she turned her head down with a snarl at the very thing that would destroy her happy ending.
Abruptly, her gaze caught those wide innocent green eyes, and all the turmoil inside her left, leaving a numb shell as she carefully wrapped the child back up in the blanket.
With heavy feet, she brought her sister’s child into her home.
—
Three Years Later
Petunia wouldn’t say she regretted bringing the child into her life. If nothing at all, it was at least useful to her. It completed the chores around the house and was docile to a fault. She was sure that if a snake asked kindly enough to bite the child, it would offer its arm without hesitation.
God she was sure the child had no self preservation, which worked in her favor and not at all at the same time. She brought a weary hand down her face, the clinking of pots and pans in the kitchen filling the house with noise. It was currently working on dinner, as it has done ever since it could walk.
Maybe she should assign its chores through paper instead, at least then she wouldn’t have to look at those green eyes that stared at her like she hung the very stars in the sky.
Or maybe she could lock him up in a tower very far away, safe from everything and also away from her.
The cupboard will do for now though.
It was almost fascinating the dedication that the child completed all of the chores she assigned it. Not a single drop of hesitation to even the most difficult of tasks. The child was an… annoyingly perfect child. Where her precious Duddykins, was loud and brash, like any good boy should be. The child was meak, gentle, and as quiet as a mouse– quite pathetic really.
It rarely ever spoke in the first place. But what it did do– was sing. Where on earth the child picked that up from, she will never know. However, it was even perfect at that. It reminded her of one of the neighbors who owned a songbird. The little thing always twittered about in its cage, releasing the most beautiful notes that nature could provide.
Of course the bird died within a week, but that was just details. The first time it did speak, it made her heart painfully clench with a conflict of emotions. Petuni was its first words, even Duddykins didn’t say that. His first words were biscuit, which was quite impressive since it is such a complicated word to say.
She did have to put a stop to such a freakish display though. Of course the child couldn’t just act like a normal boy , it was here to ruin her perfect ending after all. But sometimes, every once in a while, she would allow the singing to continue. Sometimes– it soothed some of the hollow aching within her.
Like now, the soft notes of humming filtered in through the kitchen and to the loveseat she was currently sitting on. She allowed her taut shoulders to droop and to breathe in the steam of the tea she was currently holding. Airy, light, and fragrant– an aromatic tea with a cube of sugar, exactly how she likes it. The child always serves her aromatic teas when it's just the two of them.
The clinking of three plates, three glasses, and three pairs of silverware was the only notice that the dinner was finished. Along with the smell of a spiced roast filling the house with the smell of homemade cooking.
Petunia sat there for a moment, her eyes closed, taking in the mundane silence she rarely ever gets to have.
A bang resounded through the house, causing her to drop her teacup to the ground, Vernon’s loud laugh now filling the quiet room. A smile easily fell onto her face as she turned to face the two greatest treasures of her life, her now empty hand curling around the fabric of her dress.
“Ha! Petunia! Our boy is for sure going to be a pro cricket player!” Vernon let out another loud laugh, “If anything, he knows how to swing the bat a little too well, if I do say so myself!” He was red in the face with a sheen of sweat over his eyebrows.
As if on cue, the swoosh of Dudley’s bat arrived as he stepped into the living room, a brilliant smile growing on his chubby face.
“Mum! Is dinner ready?”
“Of course my sweet Duddykins, with plenty of biscuits for my growing boy!” She rose from her seat, pointedly not looking at the shattered teacup that now laid on the ground, and pinched her dear child’s face. “A pro cricket player needs his food to grow after all.”
They all moved as one to the dining room and took their seats. The roast sat in front of them, with mash potatoes, cranberries, pudding, and most important of all– biscuits. It was easy for all of them to ignore the fourth empty seat that sat at the table, as they quickly dug into the wonderful meal laid before them.
It was only once all the biscuits were finished, that Duddykins began to droop his head over his plate, his eyelids half closed. Petunia moved to get up but Vernon beat her to it.
“Don’t worry dear, I got it.” And with that he easily lifted Dudley up into his arms, moving up the stairs to tuck him into bed.
Her eyes went down to her empty plate as she just sat still for a moment, and then pinched her brows as she walked over to the kitchen. The child dutifully standing by the sink, waiting for her.
Petunia passed the child without a second glance, and rummaged through the cupboards, pulling out a stale stack of crackers tossing it at the child. “We’ve discussed this before, you may only go to bed once you clean up the mess you made. You will stay in the cupboard and out of sight until tomorrow comes. Do you understand?”
The child nodded its head and silently slid out of the kitchen to take care of the dining room.
With that, Petunia retired to bed with her husband.
—
Short Story
Blearily, Petunia blinked awake, something scratching at the back of her mind as she fumbled to pull off the duvets with Vernon snoring beside her. It wasn’t until she was out of bed that she realized what had woken her.
The teacup.
A gift from her mother, now sitting in shards on the floor and she forgot about it. She quickly and silently rushed down the stairs, turning on the lights in the living room as her eyes darted across the floor.
There were no shards on the floor. She quickly walked over to the garbage, rummaging through it like those despicable dirty people in the city. Running a hand through her hair, she let out a half broken snarl– it wasn’t there .
Stomping up, she stormed over to the display case that now dared to have an empty spot in her house, that dared to interrupt her life with it being gone.
But there it sat, whole and unfractured, a faint scent of lilies emitting from it.
—
Petunia: *goes to leave a child to die*
Child: *cute*
Petunia: Well, I have now acquired a child.
Dumbledore: *fist pumps behind a trash can*
Petunia: *hates child*
Harry: *loves her even more*
Petunia: THIS WASN’T HOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO GO
Harry will absolutely kill with kindness.
Also auto corrected Duddiekins to Daddykins and I almost died laughing.