Chapter Text
On a chilly November morning, Petunia Dursley stood at her front door, her arms crossed and her expression sour. A basket lay at her feet, containing a small baby with a shock of black hair and a lightning-shaped scar bleeding sluggishly on his forehead. Next to the baby was a letter, written in a familiar hand.
Dear Petunia,
I know you never wanted to hear from me again, but I have no choice. This is my son, Harry. I've left him in your care because, if what we think is true, he may be a squib—that is, a non-magical child born to magical parents. We have another child, Harry's twin, named Charlie. Charlie has recently become quite famous in the magical world after defeating a very evil wizard, and James and I need to devote our full attention to him. We cannot provide the right environment for Harry if he turns out to be non-magical.
I understand that this may be challenging for you, considering your usual disposition and your feelings toward our world. However, I urge you to set aside your bitterness and see Harry for who he is - an innocent child who has done no wrong.
Harry deserves a chance to grow up in a caring environment, even if it's difficult for you. Please, try to treat him with the compassion he needs.
He has nowhere else to go.
We will compensate you for his care by depositing 800 pounds into your bank account every month. If all goes to plan, Harry need have no knowledge of the magical world at all. He can grow up to be as mundane as you'd like.
I know we haven't had the best relationship, but please, I ask of you this last favour.
Lily
Petunia was trembling with rage, fuming at the utter audacity of that…that bitch . How dare Lily, after all these years, assume she was incapable of kindness? The thinly veiled insults in the letter stung, and the implication that she would mistreat an innocent child out of spite was infuriating.
Why should she show love to the spawn of her hated sister, someone who was also possibly a freak?
On the other hand, Petunia mused, Lily had given her the exact kind of ammunition she needed to hurt her where it hit the most. The child’s fingers and toes were cold as ice, yet she could feel the warmth radiating from his chest - and not the fever kind of warmth too. Immediately, the answer came to her - magic. Of course, it was. She had seen Lily do this type of thing during the cold months in their childhood home at Cokeworth, when their parents turned off the radiator far too soon to save some money. How anyone could think this boy with his unnatural glowing green eyes was non-magical was beyond her.
Fools, Petunia sneered. That’s who. Freaks who don’t have two brain cells to rub together.
"Who even leaves a baby at a doorstep in the middle of a November night?" Petunia muttered to herself, her anger simmering. "With nothing but a thin blanket to cover the babe?" She shook her head in disbelief.
While the two sisters had once been close, Lily had changed over the years, and not for the better. She had become more intolerant and condescending towards anything ‘muggle’, and in turn, Petunia retaliated by turning her nose up at anything freakish. So now, Petunia had no problem spitefully thinking about Lily and her kind, as she lifted the basket and placed it on the dining table.
As she looked down at the sleeping baby, her expression softened ever so slightly as she carefully covered him snugly with her warm shawl, making sure he was secure and comfortable, and more importantly, still asleep.
How typical of those freaks to be so careless and thoughtless. In their world of magic and mystery, they probably never considered the practicalities of the real world.
Well, Petunia would show them. Show Lily.
Unimpressed with this whole charade and downright insulted at the assumptions, Petunia vowed then and there to raise Harry with a different purpose. Petunia was sure the boy would get a Hogwarts letter; she could practically feel the buzzing of uncontrolled magic coming off of him.
Yes, Petunia plotted as she pulled out Dudley's old crib from the storage cupboard under the stairs, Harry would grow up knowing the truth about the people who had abandoned him for fame. He would loathe his birth family and everything they stood for.
She knew power was everything in the magical world, and so, Petunia would mould the boy into someone far better and more powerful than they could ever imagine. She would ensure he surpassed them all, both in strength and in character.
Let’s see who has the last laugh, Lily.
The letter arrived on a crisp, bright morning, slipping through the letterbox and landing with a soft thud on the doormat. Petunia, already in a foul mood, noticed the envelope first after Dudley brought it to the dining table and froze. The elegant script on the front, addressed to Harry, made her blood boil. Her heart pounded in her chest as she ripped open the letter with trembling hands.
Vernon, who had been reading the gas bill at the kitchen table, glanced up at his wife’s sudden and intense reaction. Her face was a mask of incandescent rage, her eyes wide with a mixture of fury and anxiety. "What is it, Pet?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Petunia barely heard him. Her eyes were fixed on the letter as she read the words that promised an entrance into a world of magic. She'd known Harry was magic, of course. The boy had been floating his favourite items – books, toys, sweets – since he was three. Messing about doing all sorts of odd things like making balls of light, unlocking all the doors in the middle of the night, jumping off the bannister to float to the ground floor. Petunia had to ban all sorts of horror and thriller movies in her home, lest Dudley get any ideas of Harry being possessed by the devil and run around screaming for anyone to overhear.
She knew that his accidental magic was registered at Hogwarts; she remembered Lily talking about it once. But that meant Lily likely had known Harry was magical and did not come for him. Despite the complications this brought into her life, Petunia was glad. She'd grown fond of her nephew who always followed after her like a little duckling, just as Dudley worshipped his dad.
Dudley, who had been munching on his breakfast, spotted the letter and immediately became excited. “Wow, Harry! It’s from the magic school!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder. “You’re going to be a wizard! This is going to be awesome!”
"Magic school?" Vernon yelped, as Petunia's cheeks grew pink in anger. "So, it has come then?"
Vernon had initially harboured serious misgivings about taking Harry in, especially when he learned that the boy's parents were alive, and apparently rich and famous to boot. The memory of James Potter, that smug bastard, was still fresh in his mind—with a careless flick of his wand, the man had made Vernon spin uncontrollably in the air at his own wedding as 'entertainment' for the wizarding guests, as all of them bloody laughed at his panicked flailing, at his wife who was screaming in horror and fear. He and Petunia had been the only normal guests and no one, not even Petunia’s sister, had stopped him from assaulting them. Vernon still had nightmares about it, the nauseous, phantom sensation of spinning through the air, utterly helpless to do anything about it. The humiliation of being made a fool in front of so many people, the fear in Petunia’s eyes—those were things he could never forget.
It had been the first time Vernon had come across wizards and if he never encountered another again, it would be too soon.
That experience had coloured his every interaction with the magical world, making him wary, distrustful, and angry. So, yes, Vernon had been very much against the idea of raising Harry at first. The boy was James Potter’s son, after all. Who was to say he wouldn’t turn out just like his father—reckless, arrogant, and cruel?
Petunia had convinced him to give it a go for just one year, promising that if it didn’t work out, they could find a good orphanage for the boy.
But Harry, the little angel, had wormed his way into their hearts almost immediately. They had always wanted a bigger family but had struggled to conceive another child after Dudley. Harry’s arrival, though unconventional, had filled a void they hadn’t realised was so significant.
Over the years, the boy had quietly carved out a place in his heart, proving himself to be so much more than the burden Vernon had once feared he might be. Harry was a bright, inquisitive child with a knack for finding joy in the simplest things, and that had softened Vernon’s heart in ways he hadn’t anticipated.
Despite the bursts of accidental magic — rarely destructive, with Petunia or himself always on hand, soothing the boy down during his tantrums — Vernon came to see Harry as just a boy, not some harbinger of the strange world he distrusted, one whose laughter, along with Dudley’s, filled their home with life. His curiosity was boundless, and his determination to keep up with Dudley, despite their differences, was admirable. He was mostly polite, well-behaved, and always eager to help around the house.
Vernon found himself looking forward to their little talks, the way Harry would eagerly recount his day at school, the pride in his voice when he talked about his accomplishments, the way he would help Dudley catch up on his studies, despite being three years younger, and encourage him to score better in tests. It was adorable the way he’d toddle after Petunia, helping her in the kitchens and the gardens. He’d come to admire Harry’s resilience, his ability to face challenges head-on, and his unwavering kindness that was very rare in the world.
Looking back, Vernon couldn’t fathom how he ever thought he could send Harry away. He couldn’t imagine his family without either his own son Dudley or his nephew Harry, whom he had come to regard as another son. He felt a fierce protectiveness for the boy, the kind only a father feels for his child.
Harry's natural intelligence and curiosity soon became impossible to ignore. Teachers marvelled at his quick grasp of new concepts, his ability to solve complex problems with ease, and his insatiable appetite for learning. Promoting him to the next grade level early had been a temporary solution, but even that wasn’t enough to keep Harry challenged.
It became evident that Harry needed more - something beyond the standard curriculum that St. Grogory’s could offer. That’s when Vernon had started researching schools that catered to exceptionally bright students. He had discovered St. Edward’s Academy, a prestigious school with an advanced study program designed for gifted children. It was known for its rigorous academics, small class sizes, multiple electives and subjects that went beyond traditional curricula, and specialised teaching methods that nurtured the brightest minds.
It was also expensive - far beyond what the Potters' paltry contribution could cover.
The 800 pounds that the Potters had been sending for Harry's care had long since stopped being sufficient. The rising costs of living due to the recession had stretched those funds thin, barely covering the basics, let alone the special needs and opportunities Harry deserved. But Vernon had never expected much from James and Lily Potter; after all, they had chosen to abandon their own son on a doorstep without a second thought.
Vernon had quickly realised that if Harry was to have the life he deserved, it would be up to him and Petunia to provide it. So, when the money started to run out, Vernon hesitated only a tiny bit before dipping into the family's savings. It wasn't just about keeping Harry clothed and fed; it was about giving him the best possible start in life. He had even taken on more duties at work, covering extra shifts, sacrificing his own free time and energy to ensure that both Dudley and Harry had everything they needed.
It was still touch and go for a while, so his darling wife Petunia dusted off her law degree and soon secured a position with the city council, working in administration. It was a blow to his pride at first, but Petunia, ever the practical one, had given him the proverbial slap on the head, reminding him that they were a team. She reassured him that it was about securing their future, not diminishing his role. She soon proved her worth in her workplace, shutting up the naysayers and earning respect from her colleagues while contributing significantly to the household income. Vernon couldn’t help but admire her determination and strength. It wasn’t easy for him to accept at first, but seeing Petunia flourish in her role and knowing it was all for their family made him appreciate the sacrifices they both were making.
He’d always loved her catty side and their nightly discussions soon shifted from gossip about the neighbours to gossip and complaints about their office colleagues where they could vent frustrations, offer support, and celebrate each other's successes. Petunia had always had a keen eye for managing people and her insights into his office politics soon saw Vernon through another promotion and a better paycheck.
Their marriage grew stronger as well, as they learned to rely on each other’s strengths, finding solace and solidarity in their combined efforts.
Vernon knew he would do anything to keep Harry safe, just as he would for Dudley. The thought of losing either of them was unimaginable, and the idea that Harry’s parents could have so easily left him behind filled Vernon with a quiet, simmering anger. Harry was his boy, and no one—wizard or not—would take him away. The very idea of losing either of them was unthinkable. So, yes, Vernon was very displeased at seeing the Hogwarts letter on his dining table and nervous about what it would mean for Harry. Would the Potters snatch Harry back from them? Would Harry want to go back to the Potters?
Meanwhile, Harry remained entirely indifferent as the strange letter lay on the kitchen table, causing a commotion among the Dursleys. He was too engrossed in revising for the upcoming maths test as he diligently flipped through his maths workbook, scribbling pointers and solving the problems with a determined expression. His focus never wavered from his book and notes, despite Dudley's excited chatter about magic, Uncle Vernon's nervous inquiries, and Aunt Petunia's angry spluttering filling the room. The idea of attending a magical school was far less urgent to him than the immediate challenge of outperforming that absolute tosser Granger in the upcoming test.
All Harry could think about was the shiny gold badge Ms. Lannard would pin on his shirt for achieving top marks.
And, of course, the satisfaction of seeing Granger's frustrated expression as she stood in the background with her inferior red badge for second place.
“Is this really necessary, Aunt Petunia?” Harry asked with as much exasperation as he could muster for the thousandth time that day.
“Hush you. Now stay still,” Petunia snapped as she buttoned his oversized shirt out of order, and further tousled his already messy hair. She had purposely let his hair grow longer than necessary and dressed him in one of Vernon’s old shorts, which were far too long for his height. The peeling leather belt wrapped around his waist twice, but it kept the trousers from falling down so it would have to do.
Harry turned to look at himself in the full-sized mirror and immediately grimaced. The mismatched outfit was a sight to behold all right. The old shirt was too big, stained and discoloured. The sleeves were hanging over his hands and the collar drooped awkwardly around his neck. The shorts were bunched up around his ankles with holes in them and the hem was frayed to the point of no return. His sneakers were scuffed and barely held together, their once-white colour now a dull, dirty grey.
With his unkempt hair sticking out in every direction and the ill-fitting clothes accentuating his already gangly frame, Harry felt like a scruffy, dishevelled rag doll.
“But Auntie, I look like an absolute nob!” Harry didn't mean to whine, he really didn't, but really, what else could he do in his position? Dudley was laughing loudly at him, nearly falling off his chair from the effort, while Uncle Vernon had turned a bright shade of red as he tried to poorly mask his snickers into coughs.
Harry scowled at them both, huffing and pouting as he petulantly crossed his arms.
Petunia’s lips twitched in amusement as she took a final, critical look at him, her eyes lingering on the bruises Harry had sustained from his recent altercation with the Polkiss boy while defending Dudley from that little delinquent’s bullying. She had left the bruises alone when treating him as it only added to the impression of neglect and mistreatment she was aiming for.
“This is how you will look when your parents come to fetch you to buy your magical school supplies.” Petunia resolutely nodded to herself, ignoring the boys’ eyerolls and her husband's incredulity.
Of course, Petunia took every opportunity to lambast Lily and James in front of Harry. She made sure he understood just how terrible they had been as parents, emphasising their abandonment and their failure to care for him properly. "They were awful, neglectful parents," she had told him multiple times, her voice dripping with disdain. "Leaving you on our doorstep like that, with nothing but a thin blanket. Babies are fragile! You could have died right there in front of our home! They never deserved you in the first place."
Petunia was almost grateful for the chance to tell Harry these harsh truths. She wanted him to know, especially now that he had to meet them again. As the magical world called him back, she was determined that he would see them for the failures they were—anything but the loving parents he might have imagined.
“Umm… Pet, shouldn’t we show them how well we treat their child?” Vernon ventured cautiously. Although he rarely questioned his wife, he felt uneasy about this whole situation. While Petunia was normally level-headed, it was as if all her maturity and rationale was thrown out the window the moment the Potters, especially Lily, was concerned. He was just glad it wasn't projected onto their nephew, though this latest insanity was concerning. A plotting Petunia was a terrifying Petunia, he'd come to learn over the course of his marriage. As amusing as it was to see Harry dressed up in such an absurd outfit, he wondered if it was wise to give the impression that they were cruel to their nephew. “What if they call the police or something?”
He immediately regretted his question when Petunia’s blazing eyes turned on him.
“Harry was clearly magical, even back then. There was a reason why she left her son here and I will know it, one way or another.” Petunia hissed, “The Potters’ actions are suspicious, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.”
She turned her fierce look at each of them. “You all know what to do and you will play your parts to perfection, understand?”
“Yes, dear.”
"Yes, mum."
And most reluctantly, "Yes, Aunt Petunia."