Disclaimer: I own nothing from the HP universe. All credits belong to the lovely J K Rowling.

Not Strong Enough

"Tuney, look!" the red haired girl pointed.

"Ooooh, butterflies!" the taller girl cried.

"I want the red one!"

"Blue for me!"

They chased after the fluttering beauties, their laughter echoing in the garden. They were caught in that eternal moment when nothing else mattered, when the sun would shine forever, and the flowers bloom without withering while the bird sang above them.

The dark haired girl let out a cry, falling over her feet and breaking the moment.

"Tuney!" the smaller girl rushed to her side.

"It hurts!" tears started to roll down her face.

The two girls stared with horror as blood started to seep through the broken patch of skin.

"Don't cry. It will be okay. I'll get mum!"

"Don't leave me!"

"MUM!" the younger one cried. "MUMMY!"

The girl was about eight, her lovely face framed with long red hair that fell over her shoulders in waves. She was half lying on a bed, shaking the shoulders of a dark haired girl sobbing into the pillow.

"What's wrong? Tuney, please tell me. What's wrong?"

"I didn't get it," the voice was muffled.

"Didn't get what?" she asked.

"That makeup kit I wanted. I told mum I wanted it," she pulled her head up.

The thin face was smeared with tears, her eyes red and puffy.

"Maybe she forgot," the younger one bit her lip.

"She didn't forget the dress you wanted," she said sourly.

They stared, the dark haired girl angry and the other thoughtful.

"The piggy bank!" she cried.

"What?"

"My piggy bank! I'll bet it has enough money. We can smash it open today!" her green eyes shined with excitement. "And we can buy it for you."

"Really?" she sat up, wiping her face.

"Of course," she grabbed her hand. "Come on. We can do it now!'

"What do you mean I can't be your maid of honor?" she looked hurt.

"Because Vernon and I don't want you to be!" she said spitefully.

"Tuney, really," their mother said exasperatedly. "Don't talk to your sister like that."

"She is a freak!" the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Fine," she was blinking back tears. "Fine, Tuney."

"Lily-" she wanted to apologize.

Too late. It was too late. Her sister left the room, tears streaming down her face.

Her mum looked at her, disappointment etched onto her face. "Honestly, I did not raise you to act like this. I hope you're proud of yourself, Tuney."

She left as well, leaving her alone.

She folded the last shirt neatly into the suitcase, hoping she hadn't forgotten anything. He liked everything to be perfect.

"Pet," he stuck his head through the bathroom door, shaving cream smeared all over his face. "Don't forget my toothbrush. You know I don't like the ones they give on the flight."

"Of course, love."

"I will call you once I get there," his muffled voice now rumbled through the door.

"I'm sure you will do wonderfully, darling," she called back.

"It's an important meeting. Very important. That's why they are sending me."

She could almost imagine his chest puffed out with pride. Throwing open the closet door, she rummaged through, looking for anything she might have missed. She wanted her husband to be comfortable on his four day business trip.

Four days, bless her luck.

That was plenty of time to attend her sister's wedding and get back. Vernon would never know.

Years later

Petunia collapsed onto the sofa in the living room, burying her face in her hands and rocking back and forth in the dark.

Exhaustion clung onto every fibre of her body. She hadn't had a bathe all day, the dark circles that had started to appear every now and then now seemed determined to stay permanently and her hair looked like she had invited a cat to claw through it.

How could she have guessed that a baby could be so demanding, so stressful?

Dudley seemed to scream about and for everything. Vernon thought it was wonderful. Of course he would. He didn't have to deal with the tantrums, the thrown food that she had to clean up at least four or five times a day.

She was the one up all day, cleaning up mess after mess while preparing Dudley's meals, doing the laundry which had significantly increased after Dudley's arrival, cleaning the house and doing a million other chores that never seemed to end.

Dudley wouldn't let her sleep either, waking up in the middle of the night screaming for food, only to change his mind about what kind of food he wanted. It seemed so unfair when Vernon would grunt and sleep on, leaving it to her frazzled nerves to deal with Dudley's demands.

And to top it off, she couldn't get him to stop it, thanks to Vernon encouraging Dudley's behaviour the moment he got back from work. This was not what she had imagined being a mother would be like.

She almost screamed as a small hand touched her bare feet.

Harry.

Vernon must have forgotten to lock the door.

And dear Lord, she had forgotten to feed him dinner.

She surveyed the small figure standing in the overalls she had put on him yesterday. He looked tired and hungry.

The thought filled her with her a sliver of guilt.

"Aun' Pet, don' cry," his babyish voice echoed in the room.

A stifled sob escaped her as he reached out a small hand that had noticeably grown thinner from when he had arrived here.

"What are you doing here?" she tried to sound stern and failed miserably.

Vernon had been furious to the addition to their perfect little family. She had been petrified, hard pressed to decide whether it was Albus Dumbledore or Vernon she was more afraid of.

In the end, she had decided it was Vernon, given how she was so dependent on him.

Vernon had locked the boy in the cupboard under the stairs, declaring that he would stay there. She had clamped her mouth shut, knowing her place in the family.

She wasn't Lily, she wasn't strong enough and deep down, it shamed her to no end knowing that her sister was probably watching, cursing her for her weakness. It was something she desperately tried not to think about.

Vernon was the breadwinner; he was the one who got to make the decisions.

There were times when Petunia fancied that things would have been different if Lily had just been normal, instead of being some unnatural freak. She had passed it onto her son too, an unfortunate fact that she had been assured of by Dumbledore. Harry had reaffirmed her belief the next day by making a bottle she had been reaching for on the shelf fly to her hand.

Gingerly, she lifted him up, noting how light he was. He must weigh half of what Dudley did, despite being the same age.

She got up wordlessly, aware of one of his hands going around her shoulder and the other resting on her chest as he buried his small face into her neck. His soft baby hair tickled her skin.

Never had she imagined that she would be able to complete tasks with one hand but it was as easy breathing now as she swiftly prepared a warm bottle of milk in one of Dudley's old bottles.

Vernon had made it clear that he was not going to spend a single penny for clothes or anything else in the boy. Petunia had refrained from asking him about the extra money he handed her, despite the fact that he had received no promotion or a raise at work.

James Potter had been wealthy and she was convinced that Dumbledore made sure that Harry was not a financial burden on them.

With the bottle prepared, she settled into the sofa again. In contrast to Dudley, Harry didn't complain about the milk being too hot or cold. He drank the bottle easily as Petunia rocked him back and forth, wishing this was how Dudley behaved. He fell asleep easily, without protesting or fussing.

She had to kneel down to put him back into the cupboard and lock the door from outside.

The moment she had set foot on the stair, Dudley wailed loudly, the voice carrying all the way downstairs.

She had fed him, cleaned him and put him to sleep less than an hour ago.

"Mummy's coming, love," she called.

"HUNGRY!" Dudley's screaming voice could have woken the dead.

Half exasperated and half desperate to feed her baby, she ran up the stairs, all the while wondering how it was even possible for someone so small to be so hungry all the time.

Harry wasn't hungry all the time. He didn't even cry.

It was another strange reason why she was sometimes afraid of the little boy.

Harry never cried. It just wasn't natural.

The sun beat brazenly from above, perched high in the noon sky and extending its dominion over all that was visible. A cloudless sky shone bright blue, adding to the picturesque scene. Spread down on the land below, Surrey continued to function peacefully, the small population continuing routines that never seemed to vary. There was a serenity in all this, a serenity that some would enjoy and others would loathe for its dreariness.

Located a good distance away from the end of the neatly placed houses that all looked identical was a small stretch of a low stone wall that had stood there for far longer than anyone who could bring themselves to care about could remember. Crouching near this wall, one of his hands placed on the moss covered wall was by far the most interesting person who lived in this small sleepy town.

The boy had straight, jet-black hair that fell over his forehead, stopping just short of his eyes. Clad in an overly large shirt and baggy jeans, his thin frame appeared smaller than it was. It would be easy to dismiss him as scrawny but the deliberate, stiff posture seemed to add inches to his height. Up close, brilliant green eyes stared at you with a keenness that was far too old for his age and the thin mouth set on the pale, impassive face was perpetually set in a constrained line as if he was evaluating all that he could see for what it was worth in the world.

Every now and then, he would glance sideways and then behind him as if he was watching out for someone. This continued for a good half an hour, the boy staying at the same place with a patience that one would find astonishing in a child of his age. Judging by his small stature, he appeared to be eight or nine though one would think that the appraising face made him appear older than that.

A small breeze swept over the place lazily. It rustled the leaves of the elm trees dotted around the place and swept the straight locks of hair falling over the boy's forehead sideways, revealing a small, lightning bolt shaped scar.

The boy stepped back, revealing a small hole between the ground and the stone wall. Slithering through it was a small snake, a pure grey common adder to be exact. For a normal bystander, there would be something unnatural in the casual way it stopped short, its head bowing instead of raising at the sight of the small boy.

He seemed pleased, his mouth stretching into a smile though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Master," the snake spoke reverently.

Harry tried to smile. It wasn't something that came naturally to him.

"I need a favour," Harry murmured distantly, his soft hiss dissipating into the dry air almost musically.

"Of course," the snake reared its head eagerly.

"I need you to find me more information for me."

It looked confused. "More information," it cocked it head, "Master?"

"You told me that you don't know much," Harry frowned. "Didn't you?"

"I am young, Master," he looked defensive. "I have not travelled far."

"Then do it," Harry smiled charmingly. "You can do that, can't you?"

It began to look excited. "Of course, Master."

Harry placed a pale finger on its head, absently stroking the zigzag pattern running down its body. "Meet me here, after..." his voice trailed off as he counted the days.

June was almost over but he doubted that his little friend here was aware of months and dates. But animal could keep time, couldn't they?

"When can you meet me?" he asked.

It looked thoughtful. "The day of the next full moon?" it suggested after a while.

Last night had been a full moon. So he could expect to meet after a month, close to his birthday, couldn't he?

"The day after the next full moon then," Harry said finally. "Meet me midday."

It nodded subserviently.

"I have to go," he whispered.

"Of course, Master." It looked at him regretfully before brightening up. "I will do as asked," it promised.

"I know you will," Harry got up.

He wondered if Dudley had told on him yet.

The memory of his furious face as his brand new gameboy had exploded in his face left him with a satisfaction unlike any other. What with the long list of Dudley's prized possessions that had blown up, disappeared and sometimes shrunk to the point of being no longer usable, one would have expected him to learn his lesson and leave Harry alone.

It was both unfortunate and convenient that Dudley was as smart as an earthworm. He never seemed to learn his lesson.

Harry was smarter, a lot smarter than Dudley. It was why he kept his reiterations within a line he had drawn himself. The 'accidents' that he made happen were always harmless and they never really hurt Dudley. After all, as much as he hated living with the Dursleys, he recognised the value of having a roof over his head and meals that ensured he didn't starve.

All the while, he was waiting.

He had been waiting his whole life, dreaming of things that he never told anyone about.

When he was younger, he had dreamt of a family that loved him. In his dreams, they came back for him and took him away from the Dursleys.

Growing up, the vivid scenes in his imagination had dulled, losing colour and fading into an insipid thought of a wish that he tried to keep at bay.

Harry knew he wasn't normal. His earliest memories were of being yelled at by Uncle Vernon, his young brain trying to fathom the unusual situation of the mess he had made without meaning to. It had continued and he had come to accept the strangeness as a part of him.

He could do things no one else could, make unexplainable things happen without meaning to. There were times he could call it out, whatever it was, and it would do as asked. He could use to hurt others who hurt him.

But it was a fine line between revenge and survival and Harry was always careful to choose the latter.

He brushed off the small tendrils of grass on his jeans, wondering if lunch was still a possibility for him. It would be, if Uncle Vernon didn't find out yet. After all, Aunt Petunia never depraved him of his meals unless Uncle Vernon made it clear that he was to have none.

Harry turned over on the thin mattress, trying to ignore the discomfort of his hunger.

To say that Uncle Vernon had been furious was an understatement. His face had taken a purple hue as he had taken Harry by the scruff of his neck, growling 'cupboard, and 'no meals'.

He felt something climbing onto his feet before changing its mind and running down again.

A spider. Pity he couldn't talk to them like he could talk to snakes.

He placed a hand on the door of the cupboard, giving it a light push, knowing it wouldn't budge. Uncle Vernon had locked the door from outside in the moment he had found out about the whole thing.

In hindsight, Harry had admitted that Sunday was not a good day to make 'accidents' happen.

The noise from the TV reached him and he turned his attention to the words, trying to catch a gist of the program. This was how he would know what time it was.

A woman was talking about some new bill and the House of Lords. It must be the evening news.

His stomach growled louder.

He brought his knees to his chest, closing his eyes and attempting to clear his mind. He was good at this, to empty his mind and think of nothing. It felt like leaving the world momentarily.

The stifled heat inside the cupboard was making him drowsy. His stomach seemed to give up, falling silent and still except for the rhythmic rise and fall as he breathed slowly, drifting off to sleep.

There were times when Petunia wondered if things would be different if she had chosen differently. Vernon was a lovely husband and father, yes, but there were times when she was afraid of him. It was something she had felt with no one else.

Not even her sister, whom she couldn't get herself to stop hating, despite her being dead for years.

The ridiculous things that she did to show off, turning teapots into mice - really, how was that useful to anyone? had left her jealous, angry and spiteful. But not afraid. There was a part of her, buried somewhere under the envy and loathing, that knew that Lily would never hurt her. Not in a million years.

Petunia watched from the corner of her eyes as Vernon guffawed at something that the reporter was saying. Dudley set next to him, his face sullen as he waited his turn to watch one of his favourite shows.

Time passed slowly as she waited, making appropriate remarks where necessary to agree with her husband.

It was a good two hours before Vernon got up. "Pet, I'm going to the bed now," he said needlessly.

"Alright, love," she nodded. "I will be there after straightening the things here," she got up to give one last scrub to the already spotless dining table.

"Duddykins," she cooed. "You should go to bed."

"It's the summer hols!" he shouted. "You can't make me go to bed!"

She hid the wince, wondering if the neighbours had heard him. She craned her neck, noting that their windows were closed and curtains drawn.

"Not so loud, love," she admonished. "Come now. You know I am taking you shopping for clothes tomorrow."

Not that Dudley needed more clothes, in her forever guarded and silent opinion.

But Harry's clothes were close to falling apart and she had heard from Mrs. Edwards two doors down the block about some sweaters that shrunk to at least half of their original size the moment they were washed.

They sounded perfect.

"I will take you out for ice-cream tomorrow," she continued to coo. "How about that, love? And we can get you a new toy."

A gameboy, to be more exact.

What had Harry been thinking, blowing up Dudley's favourite birthday present?

He would have known that Vernon would be furious and lock him inside the cupboard without meals.

The sofa rose up considerably as Dudley finally appeased and got up. She watched helplessly as he stomped up the stairs as loudly he could, no doubt to terrorise Harry lying in the cupboard below.

The moment they were out of sight, Petunia hurriedly straightened the pillows on the sofa. Slowly and silently, she unlocked the door of the cupboard, swinging it open.

Harry was curled up sleeping, oblivious to Dudley's stomping earlier.

She studied the pale face. His eyes were closed, the long lashes throwing a faint shadow as they lay still.

He had inherited her eyes. The bright, brilliant green eyes that everyone noticed and praised for its beauty.

That was where all the resemblance and similarities ended.

And yet, she couldn't get herself to love the boy, like the way she did Dudley. All she felt for him was an obligation, borne out of duty and fear.

Not that it mattered much now.

The boy wouldn't be here for long. Come September, he would leave for that ridiculous school and then she would only see him during the holidays, just like it had happened with Lily. The summer holidays. Unlike Lily, she was sure Harry would prefer to stay at the place during Christmas.

She still couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth about what he was. Her courage failed every time she tried.

Dumbledore would send a letter, like it had happened to Lily.

When the letter arrived, she would tell him, whatever Vernon thought.

Vernon would lose it when that point arrived.

He was determined to make the boy 'normal', going as far as to choose a school for him. Petunia had refrained from telling him that the task was impossible. She knew, she had tried it with Lily.

She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, brushing away the guilt at the knowledge that it was partly her fault that he was so painfully thin.

Not strong enough, a voice mocked.

"Harry," she whispered.

He roused from his sleep with bleary eyes that snapped open, fully alert as he stared at her.

"Come on," she stood up. "Get out."

He scrambled out warily, still in the clothes he had put on in the morning.

They walked into the kitchen.

"Sit down," she said tonelessly.

He did, realization dawning over the sleepy features.

She placed a glass of milk and a plate of food in front of him.

It was the half of her dinner that she had deliberately left untouched and quickly hidden on the pretext of doing the dishes.

Harry ate quickly.

"Don't forget to clean up after you finish," she said, knowing he wouldn't forget.

Harry always cleaned up after himself, unlike Vernon and Dudley whom she had to constantly clean after.

Vernon would start wondering if she took too long. She turned off the lights, leaving the room in semi darkness. The moonlight shone through the windows.

"Aunt Petunia?"

She turned. Even in the darkness, his eyes shone bright.

"Thank you," Harry murmured.

"I am telling you, WE WILL NOT SEND HIM TO THAT PLACE!" Vernon yelled.

This was why she had been so afraid to tell him.

"Vernon, love, please," Petunia begged. "They know! See?" she pushed the thick envelope under his eyes. "See? They know that he sleeps in the cupboard."

His eyes seemed to pop out. "What?" his face turned purple. "They are spying on us! Those good for nothing-"

"Vernon, please," she laid a hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. "We should let him go. That way, we won't see him until next year," she tried to convince him.

"They are spying on us!" he repeated.

"Yes. I was thinking-" she hesitated. "We should move him to a room. The small one?"

Vernon huffed, growling something she couldn't catch him.

"Love?" she prompted.

"I said, I want none of this, this freakishness here, in my house!" he tried to shout the last bit, failing as the air ran out of his lungs.

"I know, love, I know," she tried to keep the anguish out of her voice. "Here, I will tell him, alright, love? And he can go. We won't have to put up with him until the next year. How does that sound?"

Please say yes, she begged silently.

The last thing she needed was one of those weirdos angry and at their doorstep.

Vernon seemed to be pondering her words.

"Fine," he growled. "Fine. Let him have the ruddy room and let him go to the ruddy place to learn all that hocus pocus."

"I will talk to him," Petunia repeated. "It will be alright love, you will see."

Harry wondered what was going on. He had never in his life seen Aunt Petunia so agitated.

"What's wrong?" he asked calmly.

She fumbled with her fingers, rolling her hands into a fist and uncurling them.

"There is something I need to tell you about," she said fearfully.

Harry looked around. "Did something happen to Dudley?"

Not that he cared about Dudley. But Aunt Petunia's anxiousness was getting on his nerves.

"No," she snapped. "Dudley is with Piers. Vernon is at work. It is just the two of us here," she spoke the last part as if trying to reassure herself.

"But something is wrong, isn't it?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

She took in a deep breath. "You are a wizard," she announced.

Harry stared. "Beg your pardon?" he asked, not really begging pardon at all.

"You are a wizard. That is why you are a-" she struggled for words. "That is why you are not normal."

"A wizard," he echoed.

"That is why you can do magic," she talked very fast. "My sister - your mother, she was a witch. She and her husband died when some - some nasty wizard killed them. You survived. Dumbledore said that you are famous there, in their world for that. You will be leaving soon to their school. They have a school for people like you."

"Magic," he said wonderingly. "Is that what I can do, magic?"

"Yes," she closed her eyes as if it was all a great tragedy.

Magic. It made perfect sense.

All those things that others couldn't do. It was magic?

A school for people like him?

"I thought you were sending me to Stonewall High," he said numbly.

"Vernon wants to send you there. Dumbledore told me, oh, that was years ago, he wrote to me that he would send for you when it was time to leave. The term starts at September. Here", she picked up something from her lap.

Harry reached out; taking what looked like a letter.

He opened it with trembling hands.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

He read it again, the excitement being buried under an avalanche of questions he knew better than to ask all at once.

"You know the Headmaster, Dumbledore, don't you?" he blurted out.

She fiddled with her wedding ring. "He is a very...powerful wizard. He brought you here."

A pause ensued as Harry thought about this.

"He forced you to keep me, didn't he?" Harry asked quietly.

Her silence was all the answer he needed.

"Magic," he repeated. "My parents, they could do it too?" He frowned. "You said my mum was a witch. What about my father?"

"He was a wizard too," she said through gritted teeth. "Like I said, some nasty wizard killed them. Some lunatic," she glared as if it was his fault.

He leaned in, dropping his voice. "I can talk to snakes too," he confided.

She paled. "What?" she choked out.

"Is that because of magic?" he asked.

"You don't-" she stood up. "Don't tell Dumbledore. Don't tell him, understand?"

"What? Why?'

"Because he won't like it," she spat out. "Lily told me. Back when the man who killed her was growing his power, she was in school back then, you see. What was his name again?"

"Dumbledore?" he offered.

"Not him. Voldy- something. Voldemore? No, that was not it," she rubbed a frustrated hand over her forehead. "No, More. Mort. Voldemort. Yes, Voldemort. He could talk to snakes. Lily said that it was something that only some of the bad lot did. He was evil. "

"I am not evil," he said defensively.

"Dumbledore won't like it if he finds out," she repeated.

"Fine," he muttered. "What do you know about Hogwarts?" he asked eagerly.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

"Don't lie," he frowned. "If you tell me, I will leave Dudley alone for the rest of the summer."

"How dare you-" she scowled.

He shrugged. "Dudley starts fights. I just finish them."

She seemed to think about it.

"They have four houses," she started. "Your mother was in Gryffindor. It is full of toerags and good for nothings," she said sourly. "You will be studying ridiculous things. Like potions, reading tea cups.."

"Really?" Harry tried not to look amused.

Aunt Petunia had obviously longed to go there.

"They have ghosts too," she shuddered. "And then there are..."

Harry wondered what the snake was up to. Ever since it had set off, Harry was continually meeting new snakes who sought him out, eager to meet 'the speaker'.

It had gotten to the point that Harry was now genuinely afraid that they might come into the house, looking for him.

He had pondered warning Aunt Petunia but had decided against it.

She would probably make them all pack up and leave.

And now that he finally had a room for himself and Vernon and Dudley were pretending that he didn't exist, things were better to the point of him not thinking about running away at all.

In fact, Harry had a feeling that things would have been great if those two didn't exist in his life.

A knock on his door made him sit up in his bed.

Aunt Petunia opened the door, her face drawn tight.

"Your...one of your teachers is here," her nose was crinkled as if the teacher smelt unpleasant.

"Who?" he jumped off the bed.

"She is here to take you shopping," she ignored his question.

"Really?" he tried to walk past her when she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Be careful," she whispered. She took in a deep breath. "About Vernon-"

He understood her concern.

"I won't tell," he assured her.

Her hands relaxed. "Good."

She slipped something into his hands.

Harry looked down, staring at two crumpled one hundred pound notes.

He looked up at her. She did give him money in little amounts, always discreetly but never this much.

"Get her to buy you some new clothes", she whispered. "And hide the rest with you."

Harry left with the severe looking woman who had tersely introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor. It was bloody insulting, as if Petunia didn't remember her coming to give Lily's letter to her while she had stared enviously.

Dumbledore would know that she couldn't take Harry to that dratted place. She wondered if he had deliberately sent the letter by post to get her to write to him.

Not that it bothered her much.

After Vernon's outburst, things had turned much better,

Vernon and Dudley were leaving Harry alone and she no longer spent her time worrying about things exploding and disappearing.

She walked into Harry's room.

He had left the place largely untouched. The shelves were crammed with Dudley's broken toys that she didn't want to throw away because that would make Dudley think there was room for more new toys.

She pried open the loose floorboard at the end of the room, taking out the wads of parchment she had shoved down there. Sitting down on the small bed, she opened one by one, reading through them again.

Dear Tuney,

I don't even know if you're going to read this letter (unless you read all of my three previous letters and decided not to reply) but I wanted to write to you anyway. I know that you are miffed at what happened at our wedding, but quite honestly, I did warn you that James' best friend is an idiot, didn't I?

Can we put that past us and start over again? I know that you don't like me being a witch and all but I have never held you being non-magical against you. You're my family and I love you. You know that I want to keep in touch with : Thank you for coming to my wedding, even if Vernon couldn't make it. It means the world to me.

Lots of love,

Lily

Dear Tuney,

You cannot still be mad at me? It has been weeks. Just get over it. And for the love of Merlin, drop a line and tell me how you are.

PS: Tell Vernon I said hi.

Lots of love,

Lily

Dear Tuney,

I am pregnant!

I still cannot believe it.

James is so excited. He keeps trying to watch me every moment of the day. It is starting to get annoying. Sirius has already started a pool, betting on whether it's a girl or a boy. And James wants him to be our child's godfather. Honestly.

I would much rather choose Remus but you know how stubborn James can be. Plus, Remus being a werewolf makes it a bit dangerous too, I suppose. Peter is absolutely out of the question.

Please write to me and let me know how you are doing. I miss you, Tuney. But I suppose with an owl from me every two weeks or so, you already know that.

Lots of love,

Lily

Dear Tuney,

I don't know how much longer I can take of this one sided conversation. I am six months along now. Things have started to worsen here. Strange, isn't it? You are here, in the same country as I am, living peacefully and yet you have no idea of the war that is going on here. It's horrible, Tuney. Every time I hear more news, it's about another death. It all just seems so needlessly cruel.

But I can tell you that it doesn't feel half as horrible as knowing that you don't want to talk to me. I know that we have had our fights but it seems I have lost you altogether the moment you got married off to Vernon. I hope that he is treating you right. If he is not, let me know and I will go there, pregnant or not, to set him straight.

I won't lie to you by saying that I am not happy here. I am, Tuney. James is wonderful and I feel complete here, though I could do without this horrid war.

But you're a part of me I don't ever want to leave behind. We grew up together, remember? And there are things about me that James could never understand, things that only you could understand because I only shared that part of my life you and occasionally, Sev, whom you know I am not talking to anymore.

Please, please write to me Tuney.

Lots of love,

Lily

Dear Tuney,

This might be the last letter I can write to you for some time. James says you will be glad to hear that, seeing as how you haven't bothered to write back to me a single time.

I am not supposed to tell this anyone, except those I can trust and yes, Tuney, you're one of them. There has been some kind of prophecy about a baby who will defeat You-Know-Who. Dumbledore won't tell us how he got to know about it but he is convinced that it's either our baby or the Alice and Frank's.

Quite frankly, Tuney, I am terrified. Being at war is bad enough and now I am in constant worry that it might be my child who will be the chosen one.

We're going into hiding (James and his friends are downstairs, discussing it) and we will be cutting off most, if not all, contact with the rest of the world. Sirius has gotten it into his head that he should not be the secret keeper (that is the one who will know our location and only he could reveal to anyone else). I should probably go down and make sure they don't do anything stupid instead of wasting my time writing to my sister who doesn't even bother writing back to me.

Lots of love,

Lily

Dear Tuney,

I hope that this letter reaches you. It's a boy! We chose Harry James Potter as his name. It is a lovely name, don't you think?

James is thrilled. So is everyone else, though Peter looks down about the whole thing. Remus told me that he bet it would be a girl.

We are still in hiding. Sirius and James switched secret keepers at the end, choosing Peter. I am not supposed to tell, but I am sure it will be alright to tell you, seeing as how you never read what I write to you.

Honestly, Tuney, when I am not worrying about my family here, I am in constant worry of you.

There are times when I seriously think about leaving Harry with James and going out all the way there to see you, just to make sure you are not dead. I have even tried reading tarot cards to make sure you're alive but you know how bad I am at Divination. James and Sirius thought it was hilarious. Remus has offered to go up there to make sure you are okay but I don't think you would appreciate that, would you, Tuney?

I have enclosed a picture of Harry. I know that wizarding pictures freak you out so I took this one with the camera you gave me for my sixteenth birthday.

PS: I have written an address on the back. If you post your letter addressed to that place via muggle post, I will get it. Though I don't know why I bothered. If I don't get a reply for this letter, I swear I am not writing to you again.

Lots of love,

Lily

Dear Tuney,

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I got your letter so I did both.

Congratulations on your baby, Tuney! I just wish you had written earlier to tell me. I could have bought him something before he was born. He looks so beautiful too. You have no idea how happy I am that you sent me a picture of him. I have added it to my family album.

And I think Dudley is a wonderful name. I am sure you were the one who thought of it. Is he crawling yet? Harry is and he seems to get everywhere now. Honestly, it is exhausting, but I need not explain that to you. You would know about it already.

And what do you mean Vernon doesn't want you to have anything to do with me? I am your sister and if he doesn't know that, you should bloody well knock it into his head.

Things are as good as they could be under the circumstances. I will tell you all about that some other time.

I have sent a present for little Dudley. It took me days to find something appropriate so I sure hope he likes it. Give him a kiss from me and tell him that his Aunt Lily loves him.

PS: James asked you to tell Vernon to shove his head down the toilet.

Lots of love,

Lily

Dear Tuney,

I got your last letter and I am sorry I didn't write earlier. Things are more difficult than ever here. More people are dying and no one seems to be sure how this would end. It seems like we can't trust anyone.

Sometimes I think James and Sirius like it - the war, the fighting. I just wish it would stop. All I want is for Harry to have a normal childhood instead of growing up locked inside a house.

How is little Dudley now? I bet he is walking already. I can't wait to see him. You know, as soon as things are better here, I will go up there with Harry to visit you.

Before you refuse, let me tell you that I don't give a rat's ass what Vernon thinks and neither should you. James didn't like it that I have been writing letter after letter to you without a word back but that didn't stop me, did it?

It has been years since we last talked face to face and its driving me mad. Let's hope this war ends soon. I am dying to see you and Dudley.

Lots of love,

Lily

Petunia wiped the tears that had tracked down her thin face. Lily, beautiful, perfect, Lily had been everything their parents had wanted to be. She had been the good sister, the better person.

Collecting the letters in her hand, she walked out. She couldn't leave them here now. Harry might find out.

Now she had to find another place for them.

Somewhere no one else would find them.

There was some things in the letters that she would have to tell Harry about. But that could wait for another day.

Petunia stood apprehensively, the ticket in her hand. Some people stared them before walking on and honest to god, she really couldn't blame them. She just hoped she didn't run into anyone she knew.

Harry looked torn between nervousness and excitement. His owl didn't seem to share his enthusiasm, instead fluttering in its cage noisily, looking annoyed.

"See that?" she pointed to the unassuming wall between Platform 9 and 10.

"Yes?" Harry craned his neck.

"You have to go through it," she told him.

He looked uncertain. "Do I have to tap on it? With my wand?"

"No. Just go through it," she saw an older boy with a trunk and an owl. "Look. Watch that one with red hair," she pointed.

Harry watched as the boy broke into a run and disappeared into the wall.

"Oh," he didn't look fully convinced.

"You know that Vernon will come back to pick me up soon. Hurry up, now," she urged.

Harry hesitated.

The hug was unexpected but she would remember that it felt wonderful, those green eyes staring at her without a single shred of hatred.

It was more than she could ever ask for.

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia," he whispered. "For everything. I know that you - you tried."

She tightened her arms around him.

"Harry?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

"Don't forget what I told you about."

"About Dumbledore?" he asked.

"About everyone," she said firmly.

"Right. Believe nothing until you find out the truth for yourself" he ticked off his finger. "Sometimes the best way to win a fight is to not fight at all."

"And?"

"Until they trust you with their lives, don't trust them with yours. And oh," he remembered. "Don't piss off Severus Snape. He was a dark wizard."

"I did not say it like that" she frowned reprovingly at his language.

"Don't get on his nerves?"

"That is right."

She could still feel the pain from the branch he had deliberately made fall down on her head.

"Now go," she nodded.

"Can I write to you?" he mumbled.

She didn't hesitate. "Yes. Tell your owl to give it to me when Vernon is not around."

He looked dubious.

"That is what your mother did."

"Okay. Goodbye, Aunt Petunia," he smiled.

"Goodbye."

She watched as he disappeared into the barrier.

Vernon arrived much later, loaded with shopping bags. She climbed into the car slowly, her heart filled with worry instead of the jealousy that had weighed it down so many years ago, in this same place.

"Ruddy snakes everywhere," Vernon muttered as he started the engine. "I've got a few things for them. Let me see if they want to come into my garden after I'm done with these."

"I know, love," she tried to mollify him.

Had Harry invited them?

She highly doubted it.

But Vernon was right, the stupid things turning up in their garden in hives was annoying.

She just hoped they stopped before their neighbours noticed.