Accidental Magic

Accidental Magic

Chapter One:

A New Perspective

Petunia Dursley smiled broadly at her little boy. Little Duddykins was learning so many new words and was a rather musical child. He loved to bang his fork and spoon on his high chair and sing out in his little angelic voice. He was her little pumpkin and nearly looked like one, too. He had a round little face with cheeks that just begged to be pinched and little marble-like eyes that expressed his every want and need. People had accused her of spoiling her son, but that was just a bunch of codswallop, really. Dudley got what he needed. Nothing extra was given to him. He needed everything he got...he was, after all, a very demanding, no, energetic little boy. And Petunia was just the type of mother he needed.

When her husband, Vernon Dursley, a stately man with a sturdy build, came home on the evening of the first of November, however, he was acting rather odd. He kept staring out the window, craning his neck as if to get a better glimpse of something interesting. On the few occasions Petunia tried to ask what was bothering Vernon, he merely grunted and resumed his perusal of the newspaper.

Having tucked Dudley safely within his cot along side his customary fifteen little stuffed animals, Petunia ambled back to her bedroom in her slippered feet. Nearing the door, she heard Vernon mumbling.

"Blasted owls! Leave us alone!" He was hunched over the window seat, his eyes squinting out the window.

"Vernon," she began, pulling back the blankets on the bed before sliding inside, "What is it?"

"Uh, nothing, 'tunia. Nothing a 'tall," he muttered in response, climbing into the bed, sending Petunia up into the air as his weight settled onto the mattress. "Some odd things happening today, that's all." Vernon leaned over and gave Petunia a peck on the cheek and she settled on her left side and quickly drifted off to sleep.

The odd things that Vernon noticed earlier in the day gave no clue as to the importance of the day. In Petunia's mind, it had been a normal day in which she had spent taking care of her Duddly-Wuddly, peering at the neighbours and reading the local gossip rags for news and photos of Prince Charles and Princess Diana.

However, in a world well hidden away from the likes of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, there was a celebration going on. An evil man, more evil than Hitler or Nero, had been killed and destroyed. This news would not make the cover of magazines or the front page of the world's newspapers. The celebration would not be featured on the local news or any other 'normal' entertainment venue. This news was celebrated by a portion of society that existed on extreme secrecy: the Wizarding World.

What happened to this evil man, or more specifically, this wizard? It was reported that this man, Lord Volde--He Who Must Not Be Named, was killed in a little town named Godric's Hollow by a little boy of roughly fifteen months, not much younger than Dudley Dursley was. This little boy was no ordinary little boy that was sure. He was the son of James and Lily Potter, a magical couple who were in hiding from You Know Who. The wizard killed the father, then turned on the woman and her baby. The woman died, while the baby, miraculously, survived one of the most evil curses in the world, Avada Kedavra. Details were scarce and as there were no eyewitnesses or survivors, most is speculation. But one fact remained. Harry Potter lived.

****

The following morning, Petunia Dursley set about her normal morning routine, heading to the front door to collect her bottles of milk from the milkman. With her hand on the doorknob, she pulled open the front door to find, not just her normal four bottles of milk and two pounds of cheese, but a basket containing a giggling boy with a wild tuft of black hair and a lightening-bolt cut on his forehead. He smiled up at the woman and she let out a tremendous scream that brought her husband Vernon barrelling down the stairs, bulldozing his way over to his wife.

"Petunia, what...?" Vernon stopped short upon seeing the little boy, the basket and the letter on his front stoop. He reached down to take the letter and it suddenly flew out of his reach. Again, Mr. Dursley attempted to take hold of the letter and yet again, it flew away. When Petunia reached down, the letter drifted into the air and settled in the pocket of her dressing gown.

"Pick it up! Get it out of the daylight!" The 'it', of course was the little boy in the basket. The little boy in the basket was none other than Harry Potter, orphan son of James and Lily Potter, banisher of You Know Who and nephew of Petunia Evans Dursley.

Petunia knelt down next to the little boy, who had begun to crawl out of the basket, and picked him up underneath the armpits, resting him on her hip as she stood. Petunia slowly backed into the house and in the blink of an eye, she and the little boy were surrounded by a blinding white light with little pink and blue sparkles that twittered about them. The boy smiled at her, and she smiled back in spite of herself before looking into the angry and dark eyes of her husband.

"Open the letter," Vernon barked. "Let's see what the bloody hell is going on."

Her left hand reached into the pocket of her gown while her right held Harry to her body. With dexterity she never knew she possessed, Petunia opened the heavy parchment envelope and began to read the letter, which was written in a thin handwriting she didn't recognise.

Dear Petunia Dursley,

My name is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I am sorry to inform you that your sister Lily and her husband, James, were killed on the evening of October 31^st.

As his only living relative, custody of their child, Harry James Potter, falls to you. His godfather is unavailable to take charge of young Harry at the time.

As you are sure to have noticed, you have experienced a Family Binding Charm. This charm solidifies the custody transfer and binding until Harry turns seventeen years of age. As long as Harry lives in your home, he experiences the protection that your sister began when she sacrificed herself for her son. You and only you can continue the protection.

I send you my deepest condolences at this sorrowful time. I will contact you again within the next few weeks to explain how you will benefit from raising Harry.

Your servant,

Albus PWB Dumbledore

Petunia reread the letter three times before handing it off to her husband.

"It's nothing but a blank piece of heavy parchment. Whoever sent this is a nutter," Vernon harrumphed. He stared at Harry and backed away into the corridor.

"Vernon. It's Harry. Lily's boy." Petunia wiped away a stray tear that she was surprised to have shed. "She...she's d..dead, Vernon. There's no one left to take him."

"Well, I'm not allowing THAT in my house to do who knows what to our son. Our perfectly NORMAL son!" Vernon was shaking his index finger at Harry, who was attempting to wriggle free from his aunt's arms.

"It's too late, dear. I've sealed the charm." Petunia gently set Harry down on the floor and he began crawling across the floor.

"What?" Vernon's face had turned a bright shade of purple and looked like he was likely to explode. "Send him to a home, Petunia!"

"No. I can't. It was explained in the letter, Vernon," she explained. "It was a magic letter and only I can read it. I can't let him leave." Harry pulled himself up on his uncle's pyjama leg and tugged at the paisley patterned cotton.

Vernon raised a hand to Petunia and pointed at her with a scowl on his face. "Fine. But he gets nothing extra, no special treatment. I won't allow him to disrupt my life." Vernon began breathing heavily. "I will not allow MAGIC in this house. Dudley is OUR son, and don't you forget it!"

Vernon stormed off down the corridor to the kitchen, leaving Harry to tumble to the floor with nothing more than a little

"Harry," Petunia said, kneeling on the floor beside him. He reached up and pulled on a loose curl from her head.

"Muh," Harry whimpered, the first sign of emotion Petunia had seen all morning. "Da-da?" His little mouth began to pout and she saw his lower lip begin to quiver. She watched helplessly as fat tears began falling down his cheeks and the little boy began to wail and scream for the two people who loved him more than life itself.

Petunia fell onto the floor beside her nephew and pulled him into her arms, rocking him back and forth, their tears mingling on the wood floor beneath them. "We'll make it, Harry. I don't know how, but we'll make it."