A/N: Finally, finally, the rewrite for As You Wish It is here! For those of you who have read the old version welcome back! For those of you just joining. Welcome! And don't worry, you don't have to read the old one to understand this one. Also while this does have an underage warning, it's mostly a just in case kind. The adulthood age for Harry is fifteen, so there ISN'T a need for an underage warning. But like I said, it's a just in case for some readers who don't like it regardless.

Warnings: Possible slash, underage. Nice Petunia and Dudley la gasps!

Twisted Chains

Prologue:

August 5, 1980

The village is small, with a village square, post office, a pub and a few shops. The residential streets were lined with quaint cottages, and a street called Church Lane that lead up to a church. The village was quiet as it should at one in the morning, so no one saw the figure walking past the cottages finally stopping at one in particular.

The figure stared at the cottage, before opening the white gate and walking through, barely glancing at the rows of flowers and when they finally came upon the front door; they did not bother to knock. With eyes seemingly glowing, they watched as the door silently glided open, after a moment they stepped through.

The house was dark, but that didn't seem to stop the figure from making their way through it, walking past the living room, kitchen and down the hall until they came upon the door they were seeking. Like the front door, this door glided silently open and they stepped in.

It was a nursery; a soft golden light illuminated the furniture, toys, and walls. By a closed and draped window was a crib with hanging slowly spinning little broomsticks, the figure went over to the crib and peered inside.

It was a baby, a boy, with soft wild black hair and dressed in white and red.

"His name is Harry"

The figure took a step back, and looked over its shoulder to the door, standing there was a woman. She wore a robe, and barefooted. She had long red hair and green eyes, green eyes whose pupils were vertical narrowed and glowing.

"Evening sister" said the woman.

"Lily" said the figure.

Lily's eyes soften, and she stepped into the room, and kept moving until she was hugging the figure. Who stiffened for a moment, before hugging Lily back.

"It's good to see you, Petunia" Lily said.

"And you"

Letting go of her sister, Lily turned to the crib where her son was still asleep, unaware of what was happening; the woman's green eyes no longer glowing.

"He's cute" Petunia said, "almost as cute as my Pup"

Rolling her eyes, Lily reached down to smooth the soft wild black hair, "I'm glad you came to see him" she said, "despite our differences of opinions on certain matters"

"Just because I think you could have done better than Potter, does not mean you are no longer my sister nor does it mean Harry is no longer my nephew"

"And you are still mine, despite the fact that our laws should dictate otherwise"

Petunia gave a soft huff of laughter before she reached down and rubbed Harry's stomach when the babe started to fuss, "Has Caretaker been to see him?" she then asked when her nephew had settled back down.

"No" Lily shook her head, "but he did send gifts, I expect he'll come by for a visit soon"

Petunia nodded.

"I hope you'll be able to join us, when that time comes, you, your Pup.…and your husband"

"He is my husband in the eyes of the humans only"

"But he loves you"

"And I him, though many, even you have questioned why"

"Perhaps once or twice"

Petunia chuckled, before becoming a bit somber, "I doubt he will be welcomed though, Vernon barely tolerances the fact that James has magic, knowing our heritage would most likely will push him over the edge"

Lily titled her head slightly to the side, "Should I be worried?" she asked

Petunia stared at her, then she smiled, her eyes glowing; in the dim light two fluffy tails flickered within her shadow. "Worried about what?" she purred.

Lily stared, then she smiled and her eyes glowed back.

October 31, 1981

…..Something, has happened.

Petunia opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, she listened, but all she could hear was the nightly sounds of the house and neighborhood outside.

Something was wrong.

After a quick glance at her snoring husband, Petunia quietly got out of bed, and after putting on her robe; left the bedroom. Without a sound, she made her way down the hall to her son's room. A quick peek showed all was well, after closing the door softly, she continued on; searching the house for anything out of place. Ten minutes later, she found nothing, brows furrowing and wondering if perhaps it was her imagination. Petunia started her way back up to the bedroom, one foot hovering over the first step when she suddenly felt it.

Someone had just entered Privet Drive, more specifically, a Wizard.

While it wasn't uncommon for a Wizard to pass through occasionally, not to mention the Wizarding World seemed to be celebrating something or other today, this was different. Through-out the whole day she had felt a presence watching her and her family, it wasn't threatening, just observant so she had let it be. Now, another unknown presence had appeared just as something or another had awoken her from sleep. Eyes narrowing, she focused on the new presence raising a brow when she recognized it.

"What are you doing here old man?"

Tilting her head just slightly, she listened.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall"

Petunia raised a brow both at how easily she picked up the voice, which meant he was within her hearing range, and at a name she hadn't heard about for a long time; there is silence for a moment then a new voice joined the first.

"How did you know it was me?"

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly"

Petunia only half-listened to the two, wondering if perhaps the two were here to see Mrs. Figg.

"No….Not Lily and James….I can't believe it"

"What about my sister?" Petunia blinked, cursing herself for not paying attention.

"I know, my dear, I know, they will be missed greatly"

Petunia paled, no, that can't be right. Her sister was….she would have felt it if…..she did, but it was different….No, not her Lily. Leaning heavily against the wall Petunia whined softly, her throat tightened and her eyes started to water. With a sniff, she brushed wiped it away, and stood upright.

"No, I will not mourn until there is proof" she thought, before focusing back on the two.

"It's true? After all he's done, all the people he killed….he couldn't kill a little boy? Of all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess, we may never know"

So her sister and Potter were supposedly dead, and her nephew was alive, that still didn't explain why both of them were here, as it had become obvious that they weren't here to see Mrs. Figg. She quickly found her answer when McGonagall cried out.

"You can't mean the people who live here? Dumbledore, you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't fine two people who are less like us"

Correctly assuming McGonagall meant her family, Petunia grinned slightly, Oh, if only they knew.

"And they've got a son, who I saw kick his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets"

Oh, so that's what she saw, she had wondered. Her kit's tail suddenly popping out broad daylight had startled her, unprepared she had quickly casted a Cover spell. Not even thinking of what the spell had others seeing.

"Harry Potter, can't come and live here!"

"It's the best place for him"

The two thinking they had any say in her family's matters aside, that was an odd thing for Dumbledore to say, especially since McGonagall just told the man that her family was assumingly awful.

"His aunt and uncle will explain everything, when he's older. I've written a letter"

"A letter? Really?"

"A letter, really? Albus, these people will never understand him!"

"Actually it would be the other way around" Petunia thought as she sat down on the first step of the stairs.

"He'll be famous, a legend, I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in the future."

"What exactly has my nephew done? He can barely say words!"

"There will be books written about Harry, every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly, it would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he could walk and talk, for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Petunia's brow furrowed, that didn't make very good sense. McGonagall and Dumbledore obviously thought she and her husband were Muggles, and she knew for a fact that Dumbledore was aware of her not visiting her sister that one night aside, and of the…Incident some years back. No one knew of those visits so she's sure the man had come up with his own conclusions about her, a less then flattering conclusions. So how can the man be so sure that if everything he thought about her and her family be true, that they would even bother with explaining anything to her nephew…whatever it was. Or even treat him fairly, she seen what Muggle families could do to people, children included, when it came to Magic.

A sudden rumbling had Petunia jumping and glad that her husband was a heavy sleeper, even more so when a third loud booming voice joined McGonagall and Albus. The booming voice, belonging to one called Hagrid was shushed, though not before Sirius Black's name was mention.

"Were there any problems?"

"No sir, house was almost destroyed, but I got him out before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as were we was flyin' over Bristol"

"Is that where—?"

"Yes, he'll have that scare forever"

Her nephew was hurt?

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself about my left knee that is a prefect map of the London Underground"

Wasn't that an interesting thing to say, and not about the London bit either. The three talk more, then footsteps head in her house's direction, and they came and stopped at the front door; Petunia waited. There is the shifting of clothing, followed by a somber silence before Dumbledore finally spoke again.

"Well, that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations"

"Are they…..did they just….they aren't…"

"Yeah, I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professors"

There is a rumble, and then it was just two.

"I shall see you soon I expect, Professor McGonagall"

There is the blowing of a nose, smell of magic and the last thing Petunia heard was "Good luck, Harry".

"They just left my nephew on the doorstep, in the middle of the night. In October" Petunia mumbled as she stood up and made her way to the door, quietly she opened it and indeed found her nephew bundled up and alone on her doorstep. "Revenge will be swift and painful" she whispered as she gathered Harry in her arms, well not painful; mostly embarrassing because of her people's laws. But revenge will be had.

She found the scar they were talking about, it was shaped like a lightning bolt, but there was nothing else about it. There were no other injuries that she could find or sense, and she also saw the note pined to the blanket. Leaving it for later, she turned and walked back into the house, the door closing silently behind her.

When the sun rises, Vernon Dursley will wake up to a new member of the household, and by the evening, he'll be in a new place; single and no memories of a wife or child. When the sun rises, Petunia will make a choice, it'll hurt her; but she won't regret the decision, because her husband will be safe. When the sun rises, Petunia will pack her things, son, and nephew, and make her way to her Caretaker. When the sun rises, Petunia will mourn her losses, before resuming her rule as mother to her son, and new mother to her nephew.

But until then, Petunia merely sits in the living room, sleeping nephew cradled in one arm while she reads the note left to her.

~.~

Somewhere in a place known to only one, a powerful man sat and cursed his carelessness.

He should have known that they would have some kind of protection on the child, but he had gotten cocky, and thus he had been unprepared for the sudden blast. Unprepared to be flung away from the child, house, and landing in a heap in dirt. Miles away from Godric's Hollow.

The blast had injured him, nothing fatal, and he had been able to make it here. In a few days he would be healed. But his magic, while not gone. Seemed to be locked somehow, and he has a feeling it was not permanent. Of course that could be desperate thinking. For now, the Wizarding World was celebrating his supposed death, and their supposed savior, let them. Let them celebrate, let them have their peace.

For he, the Dark Lord, will rise once more.

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