Chapter Text
Petunia Dursley, born Evans, had, from a young age, prided herself on being a very normal and respectable young woman. With a sister like hers, being normal was the only thing she had that her sister didn't. Lily Potter, née Evans, had always been described as extraordinary, especially after her 11th birthday, when an old woman had shown up and declared Lily was a witch.
It had been that event that had led Petunia and Lily to grow apart. The love between them was still there, but it was tarnished by the difference of their educations, the difference of their abilities, the difference of their worlds. They had grown up worlds apart, and the more they grew, the more they could feel that bond rot.
Petunia had met Vernon Dursley through a mutual friend. Vernon was just as normal as Petunia, and they had gotten along well from the moment they had met. Lily had gone home once and had met Vernon. The two of them had not gotten along at all. The entire thing would have probably ended up in a bloodbath if it hadn't been for the girl's parents' intervention. The meeting between Lily and Vernon had comforted Petunia in the idea that she and he were meant to be. Meant to be normal together and have a normal life, raise normal children, and lead them to have a normal education, that would turn into a normal job, and all of that in a normal world.
But Petunia should have known it wouldn't last, nothing had ever seemed to go her way anyway.
Petunia would always remember the night of Halloween 1981. She had put Dudley to sleep a couple of hours ago already. She and Vernon were discussing the events of the evening while putting all the Halloween decorations away. Vernon had found the idea silly at first. Dudley wouldn't remember this year's Halloween; he was too young, but upon seeing the excitement in his wife's eyes, he had smiled and told her to plan away. Petunia had prepared everything for this evening to be something that she and Vernon would remember for the rest of their lives.
She had decorated the house and even made a costume for her little Dudley. She had cooked everything on theme. From the ghost-shaped pizza to the pumpkin-shaped pumpkin pie. She had convinced Vernon to play along. A couple of kids had shown up at their doorstep for candy, and all she could think about was that in a couple of years, when Dudley would be old enough, she would be the one accompanying him to knock on the neighbors' door. She couldn't wait to experience all of his first experiences and all the rest. But she also didn't really want him to grow. Her little treasure.
They were almost done when someone knocked on the door. It was way past bedtime for any child who could go trick-or-treating. She looked at her husband with a puzzled expression.
"Who would be ringing at this time?" He wondered aloud.
"I have no idea. I'll go open the door."
He nodded at her, and so she got up and went from her kitchen to the door. But she let her hand hover over the handle. She didn't know why, but she knew something was wrong. She knew opening the door would change everything. But she did anyway. No one was on the other side, but something had been left on her doorstep, and in that moment, she wished to had never opened the door. She could not move, could not breathe, could not even think. So she stood there, frozen.
"Vernon?" she called weakly, one hand still holding the door, the other over her heart.
"Tuney? What is it? Who's at the door?" came the voice of her husband, now concerned by her tone.
But Petunia was petrified. No matter how many times she blinked, the basket was there, full of something, no, someone. A child. A baby.
A baby had been dropped on their doorstep. And she didn't need to open the letter that had been placed on top of the sleeping infant to know what it meant. It was her baby. Which could only mean one thing.
Lily was dead.
She was shaking, and her legs gave out. She found herself kneeling in her entryway, hands hovering over that baby that she knew to be her nephew. It was only when she felt Vernon rocking her back and forth that she realised that she was sobbing. Petunia had never been a very expressive woman, nor had she ever been a very open child, but in that moment, the dam broke, and with it a torrent of bottled-up emotions that drowned everything else. And she stayed there, on the floor, sobbing the loss of a sister she had cast away years prior, knowing that the wizards had won. And she had lost. Everything.
The rest of the night was a blur. She did not remember going from her doorstep to the couch. She did not remember Vernon bringing the infant inside. She didn't remember him opening the letter and reading it to her out loud. All she would remember of that night was that her baby sister was dead, and that the child was the only thing she had left of her. All she would remember was the unforgivable grief that overtook her, and the pain and sorrow that came with the regret of the choices she had made younger. It was that pain that drove her into a troubled sleep, one filled with images of the past, filled with all she had lost that night.
When she woke up the next morning, she was on the couch, a blanket draped over her, and a massive headache wracking her brain.
And then she remembered the events of the night prior. But the tears didn't come. She had cried every last drop of them already. She looked around and found Vernon sitting in an armchair in front of her, still soundly asleep. The house was quiet, and Dudley wasn't awake yet. Then her gaze dropped on the basket in which the infant, her nephew, still slept in, close to the dying fireplace, so he wouldn't be cold.
A letter that she could barely remember the content of was still open on the coffee table. She took it in her trembling hands and started reading it.
To Ms. Petunia Dursley, born Evans,
It is with great sadness that I find myself writing to you these words.
As you may have been made aware, a war was going on in the Wizarding Society of England.
A great and powerful Dark Lord was raging war against those of the Light, and tonight, he was defeated.
Unfortunately, your sister and her husband lost their lives to the Dark Lord tonight, leaving behind a son with no one to care for him.
You can be proud of your sister; she stood valiantly against the Dark Lord and died standing. Her sacrifice is what made the survival of her son, your nephew, possible.
Unfortunately, with the young boy being the only one to have ever survived the killing curse and having, as a result, the Dark Lord found dead instead, his life would be in danger in our society.
I know that what I ask of you demands a lot of strength, and I know it is unfair, but life rarely is fair.
I ask that you care for the boy until he is to enter back into the Wizarding Society. It is important that he stays hidden from the magical world. Your sister's sacrifice will not only protect the boy for as long as needed, but it will also provide you with safety, for as long as the boy stays within your home.
What I ask of you is that you provide for the boy, for the greater good, so that when the Dark Lord returns, because he will return, Harry is ready to face him once again.
With my most sincere condolences,
Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards
Petunia was fuming. She recognized that name: Albus Dumbledore. She remembered the letters she had sent him, begging him to let her attend his school. She remembered Lily's praises when she talked about the man. She remembered the last time they saw each other, when Lily told her that she was enlisting to fight in that stupid war, under the leadership of that man. She remembered it all, but now it was too late. Petunia's plea hadn't been enough. They had never been, not when it came to wizards.
The letter contained no information regarding a funeral. Petunia was clearly not invited. That drove her mad. How dare they drop the infant off without even a word regarding her sister's last wishes? How dare they keep her from putting her sister in the ground, as she should have done. How dare they steal her sister from her, again, and this time for good? How could they refuse her one last goodbye? Even in death, the two sisters were to be separated from one another.
Petunia was fuming. How was she supposed to raise a magical child? And this 'Dark Lord' was dead, but wasn't? What did the old fool mean by that? And that child, that infant, her sister's baby, was supposed to fight him? All of that for what, the greater good?
In the early morning of November 1st, 1981, Petunia Dursley made a vow. The Wizarding Society of England and Albus Dumbledore would regret ever costing her her baby sister. And they could go fuck themselves for all she cared. She would make them pay, and she would make sure that the child would never fall into their greedy, needy little hands. They wanted a soldier? They would get far worse, and they would pay. She would make sure of that.
Her thoughts of vengeance were interrupted when she heard Dudley waking up upstairs. The noise made Vernon and the small child in the basket stir, but she paid them no mind. She climbed the stairs and entered her son's room. Upon seeing her, her little treasure smiled brightly, and she cooed at him. Oh, how she wished for that innocence again.
"Hello, my precious little boy. Did you sleep well?" she asked, taking Dudley into her arms and rocking him softly.
"Mama, mama!" he exclaimed, melting sweetly into her embrace. Nuzzling his little head in the crook of her neck, and sighing softly.
Her sweet little boy, her most precious person in the world.
She knew Dudley wouldn't be magic, she knew he would never enter the Wizarding Society of England. But she would make sure that he never resented his cousin as she did her sister. Sweet little Lily had never deserved her resentment. She knew that, had known that for a while, actually. But envy made people do strange things.
But not Dudley. Dudley would be loved. He would be reminded of all the great things he could and would accomplish without magic. He would cherish his little cousin and their differences, and they would grow to discover that they were more alike than they most would think. Petunia would make sure there would be no competition regarding who's better. After all, how could one compare a non-magical child and a wizard? They were in two very different categories, and she would make sure that neither would feel left out. They would both be so loved that there would not be any space left for hate. This family would survive and thrive, she would make sure of it.
Petunia dressed up Dudley and went back downstairs, cooing over him and carrying him to the living room, where Vernon was sitting in his armchair, feeding his nephew a bit of porridge. Dudley made a face at the sight before him. But he didn't seem mad, more... curious about who this new little human was, and most importantly, why he was eating porridge on his father's lap.
"Dudley," started Petunia, "this is your little cousin Harry. He's going to live with us from now on. He will be like a little brother to you."
Vernon scowled slightly at that but made no comment, so Petunia put Dudley down and took the direction of the kitchen to prepare some breakfast for her child, her husband, and herself. From the kitchen, she could hear Vernon asking Dudley to be patient and that the food on the table was not for him, but for his cousin. But the younger child sounded impatient to get more food, and Petunia heard her husband snap at the boy, demanding he shut up. She froze in the kitchen, fear growing inside.
"Tuney may be too sweet to abandon you to the nearest orphanage, but I refuse to let you become a nuisance to this household with your freakiness," she heard him say to the child.
It was in this moment that the young woman realised her error. She had always talked badly of the Wizarding Society, and had never held back when she had told him about Lily's childhood friend, Severus Snape. She could now hear the consequences of her words in the way her husband, usually so kind toward children, addressed their nephew.
Petunia made yet another vow that morning. She would not tolerate Vernon's discriminatory views toward young Harry. She would need to have a discussion with him to establish rules. And if he were to break them, she would ask for a divorce. She was currently working part-time since Dudley was still so young, but she knew she wouldn't have any trouble finding either a second part-time job or a full-time one if necessary. She would change Vernon's views, or she would leave him. She knew she was responsible for his behavior, but she wouldn't allow anyone to harm the only thing she had left of her baby sister.
Petunia Evans may have been a bad older sister to Lily, but Petunia Dursley would not make the same mistake with her nephew Harry Potter.
It took her a few more minutes to finish everybody's breakfast, and she made her way back into the living room. Vernon was still sitting there, but instead of Harry on his lap, it was Dudley, who was being fed his cousin's portion of food. Petunia put all the plates down before turning toward her husband.
"Why hasn't Harry finished his portion? Was he not hungry anymore?" she asked, not wanting to assume anything, but fearing the man's response.
"We're not gonna spend more money on this freak than necessary," he stated without even sparing her a glance.
"Vernon," she started, her voice trembling, "we need to talk about Harry and how we're going to raise him."
That stopped him, to the utmost despair of Dudley, who was trying, and failing, to wrap his mouth around the spoon full of his food.
"Tuney, you always told me what these freaks were like. I do not want this in my house. Ever. I do not want Dudley to grow up with this freak, but I understand it's her offspring and that you will not give it up. But I do not like it one bit."
Petunia drew in a breath and sat down on the sofa, scanning the room for her nephew.
"Where is he?" she asked her husband.
"In the cupboard, where he will be staying."
All colors drained from her face as she got up in a hurry and opened the cupboard under the stairs, finding, as her husband had said, the boy wrapped up in the cover he'd been brought with, crying quietly. She knelt down and took the sad little child into her arms and brought him with her into the kitchen. She blew his nose and dried his tears, and rocked him until his breathing went back to normal. She smiled down at him and kissed his forehead, realising as she did so, the scar, still fresh, shaped as if the boy had been struck by lightning.
The young woman came back in the living room, glaring at her husband as she sat back on the sofa and took the second portion of breakfast in hand and fed it to the now calm infant. She could feel the weight of his stare on her and her nephew and decided to stare back at him.
"I am not raising that freak in my house," he snarled.
"Good thing the house isn't yours then," she snapped back. "Vernon, I understand that all I have told you about the Wizarding World has not been positive, I really do. However, I will not raise Harry in shame, and I will not make him feel the same way I made Lily feel when we were young. He will grow up loved."
"I don't want any part of it," stated the man, seemingly on the verge of a mental breakdown.
"Then you can leave and find someone else to share your life. I will raise Harry and Dudley in a warm and loving home, and I will not force you to participate. It is your choice to make. And Harry will never set another foot inside that cupboard unless it is to play hide and seek with his older cousin," she warned, eyes cold and calculating.
"You would leave me over a freakish boy?!"
"No. I won't leave you. You will make that decision yourself. Either you stay and agree to raise both children in good conditions, or you make the choice to leave. The only reason I find that I would make you leave is if you lie to me about taking care of Harry properly," she explained as calmly as she could.
Petunia did not want to lose her husband, but she would rather raise her two boys by herself than stick by the side of an abusive man.
They finished breakfast in silence, and Vernon decided to go for a walk to 'clear his mind'. His wife spent that time watching over the two boys, preparing herself for the rejection she would have to face. She did the dishes and started planning what she was going to cook for lunch, trying desperately to keep her thoughts from spiraling down the rabbit hole. She had a feeling Vernon would not come back, that he would leave without a trace, and that she would receive divorce papers through the mail.
Her answer came with the sound of the door opening and Vernon coming in. His wife let out a sigh of relief and braced herself for the rest of the conversation.
"I'll try," he said simply. "I'll try for Dudley's sake. But we need to establish some ground rules."
"Agreed."
"I do not want anything to do with the freak. You do whatever you want with him, but I won't... I won't be involved. I'll take care of Dudley, and you can take care of your sister's... boy."
"Just because I take care of Harry doesn't mean you can keep me away from Dudley," warned Petunia. "I will not allow you to keep me away from my son. You will not punish me for deciding to raise my sister's child. And you will not call him a freak, nor will you call him 'boy'. His name is Harry, and you will use it." Petunia did not want to raise her voice at Vernon, but she feared what he could do to her nephew.
"Fine. I'll address him by his name. I don't think I want to share a bed with you, at least not for a bit. I'll get a bed today for the study room. I also won't participate in his needs. I will not change any diaper, I will not buy his food or his clothes or anything he might need. This will all be on you," he stated, a finger pointed at her.
It was the first time Petunia ever felt threatened by her husband. He had never been a violent man, but his tone and his posture showed he was holding back. And that scared her. She realised in that time that if he wanted to, Vernon could hurt her and she would be defenceless against him. So she nodded in silence.
"Good. I'll go buy a bed then. I might eat outside for lunch, so don't bother preparing anything for me," he added as he left the house once more, slamming the door shut behind him.
His sudden departure must have startled the two boys, as all noise ceased for a few moments before a tentative "Mama?" got Petunia out of her trance. She left the spot in the hallway she had been previously rooted in and made her way to the two young boys that were now her responsibility.
"All is good now," she said with a smile directed at her son. "Dada's going to the store for a new bed, and I am going to start cooking us some lunch. You two can keep playing," she added, making her way back into the kitchen.
But she sat at the table, listening to the two of them going back to whatever game they had been playing previously, wondering what she would do if Vernon decided to leave her for good.
She had to admit that Vernon had tried. He'd tried to be there for Dudley, and he'd even tried to accept Harry and unlearn all that he could regarding the Wizarding World. But it had been too much for him, and about a year after Harry's arrival at Privet Drive, Vernon had left the household, never looking back. He'd cut all ties with Petunia, and Dudley had lost his father that day.
Petunia would always resent her ex-husband for cutting ties with their son. She could understand that Vernon didn't want to see her or Harry, but Dudley deserved a father.
The first couple of months after his departure, Petunia had struggled, and the people in her neighborhood were not helping. She hadn't taken into consideration that fact that she would be cast aside by society for being a single mother, and so would her boys. But she had found a second part-time job that paid well enough, and got a raise in the first one.
It was a lot, and she was constantly exhausted, but she had never regretted her decision.
Dudley and Harry had grown close, and when Harry's magic started showing, she sat the boys down and explained everything that she knew about the Wizarding World and magic in general. Dudley had cried a lot that day, declaring it was highly unfair that Harry would be a magical being and not him. So Petunia had promised that she and Dudley could learn how to brew potions and a lot of fun things to feel magical, too. That had cheered the boy a bit. Harry had added that since he was a 'mage', that made Dudley a knight. That had brought a real smile to Dudley's face. He had declared he would be both a healer and a knight, and that he would help Harry in his adventures.
Petunia had had to insist on the boys keeping Harry's magic a secret. In exchange, she'd promised to take both Dudley and Harry into the Wizarding World for her nephew's fifth birthday. To say they'd been excited would have been the understatement of the century. They then went to play in the backyard.
Children forget a lot of things, but the two boys had never forgotten that promise, and would bring it up often, wanting to know what that world that was hidden from most looked like. They'd also tried to bribe her into getting books about magic from the Wizarding World, but she'd made it clear that they would be given access to all the knowledge they could find once Harry turned five.
She had to admit, at least to herself, that she was also quite excited about the idea of showing Diagon Alley to the two young boys. She'd tried entering the Alley, but failed, and figured she needed to be accompanied by a magical being to be granted entry. She'd been upset, but had gone back home nonetheless, bearing a smile for her then husband and the two children. Thankfully, she’d found some of Lily’s old school supplies that she’d left at their parents’ house, and that the old couple had kept, tucked away in the attic. She’d gone there and had read through all the books, from herbology and potions to arithmancy and runes. She hadn’t understood most of it, but she’d taken notes nonetheless, trying to make sense of the wizards’ logic. She would not be clueless regarding Harry’s education, especially since she knew her nephew would have to navigate the politics of his world and would need all the help he could get.
It was now the night before Harry’s fifth birthday. She had struggled to put the two boys to bed that night, they’d been jumping around, excited at the idea of their trip to Diagon Alley the next day. She’d been excited too, but had insisted they go to bed early. She knew they would not fall asleep that easily, but she’d convinced them that they needed their sleep so they would not be tired the next day. She was excited herself, and she’d found falling asleep extremely hard that night.
It was a bittersweet feeling, really. She still remembered the first time she’d set foot into that alley, following her parents and sister around. Lily had been so excited, the girls’ parents so impressed and amazed by everything they were seeing. She had hated that trip. Everything she’d seen reminded her that she was normal, that she was no extraordinary child like her little sister. She’d hated everything about that trip, from the bank meeting that had gone on for what had seemed like forever, to accompanying Lily to get her wand, and pet, and books, and uniform, and potion ingredients. The day had been long, and her heart had grown heavier with envy.
But this time, this time would be different. And this time, she would also focus on Dudley. She didn’t want him to be left out. That was always a struggle: she wanted to prepare Harry, but did not want to forget about her son the way her parents had forgotten about her. She would not allow herself to make the same mistake with her precious boy.
But Petunia was also worried about Harry’s very presence in the Wizarding World. She’d read the Headmaster’s letter many times over the past few years, and the instruction was clear: Harry was not to learn about the Wizarding World and magic in general until he was of age to enroll in Hogwarts. Would he be recognized there? The old man had written about a prophecy. Was it well-known in the vixen community? They would be discreet, she would not have anything happen to her two boys.
She had put herself to bed, trying to calm the anxious thoughts that were crowding her mind, no matter how many times she attempted to clear them. She’d read in one of Lily’s books about legilimency and occlumency. She’d attempted occlumency, but with no one to test legilimency on her, she had no idea if she was actually doing anything. However, she’d come to realize that her attempts at occlumency before bed were a good exercise to calm the ever-growing flow of thoughts that ran through her mind. She’d even tried to teach that to the two young boys, but their concentration was not always on point. Especially that night, it hadn’t worked at all; both cousins were way too excited about the Wizarding World to try any breathing exercise, let alone clear their minds. Petunia had left them talking about their upcoming trip, a smile on her face.
She checked her clock, only to find out it was already past midnight, and thus technically Harry’s birthday.
Petunia had never been the religious type, but on each of Harry’s birthdays, she prayed to whatever deity she could name that her sister and brother-in-law could see their son grow up from wherever the dead go. It had become a habit.
She pulled out the picture she had of Lily and James back when they were younger, their eyes full of youth and unspent energy, and she prayed. That year, Petunia prayed for a lot of things. She prayed that the trip into the Wizarding World would be good, she prayed that nothing bad happened to her sweet boys, she prayed that when the time comes, she would be ready to help Harry with whatever he could need, she prayed that her nephew would find someone to guide him through the politics and the ways of vixen.
She also prayed for Dudley. She prayed that Lily, James, and her parents would watch over her sweet little boy. She prayed that he would not feel the way she’d felt growing up, that he would never grow to resent Harry for what he was and what he could do. She prayed that he would be safe, that he would be happy, that they would watch over him too.
Finally, she prayed for herself. She asked for strength and patience, she prayed that she would be able to learn enough that she would be helpful when the two boys grew. She prayed for abundance so she would not have to stretch herself so thin for the rest of her life. She prayed for safety, again, because she did not want to leave her boys with no one to count on. Selfishly, she prayed for someone to love her and help her raise her children. She thought it was selfish, but she knew she would soon be in need of help. But also, and maybe more importantly, she wanted to be loved again. Not as a mother or a mother figure, but as a woman.
Her prayers done, Petunia got back in bed and practiced occlumency until she fell asleep, her mind clear and ready for what the future held for her family and herself.