Through a Lost Sister

"But I didn't mean to!" Harry wailed. "Please, Uncle Vernon, don't send me to the cupboard!" The ten-year-old began to cry. "I just was running around and I ended up on the roof. I don't know what happened."

"I told you, boy, if anything--"

The beefy man was cut off by a loud wail. "Please, Uncle Vernon! I don't know what happened!"

"Shut up, you little brat!" He shoved the little boy into the cupboard under the stairs. "Keep silent!" There came a sound of sniffling inside, and then quiet.

"Little brat made trouble again," Vernon told his wife, who was passing him in the hallway. "Ended up on the school roof. I put him in the cupboard."

Petunia nodded.

"How long do you reckon we should keep him there?" Vernon asked in a hushed voice.

Petunia shrugged. "Let me see the report." Vernon handed it over.

The headmistress had written: Was climbing school walls. He managed to reach the school roof. Acted like he was surprised and innocent. Explanation: running from Dudley, then "suddenly got onto the roof."

There was a sound of banging from the cupboard. Vernon stormed over. "I said, KEEP QUIET!" he bellowed.

"But Uncle Vernon," came his nephew's voice timidly, "I have to go to the bathroom."

Vernon grumbled. He couldn't let the brat dirty up the house. Grudgingly he unlocked the door, opened it, and then pushed Harry toward the bathroom, standing guard behind him the whole time. Harry finished using the toilet and went toward the kitchen. "Oh, no you don't," Vernon barked, and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. Harry kicked and fought. "I'm hungry," he said meekly.

"Too bad, boy," Vernon grunted. "No meals after what happened today." He dragged Harry to the cupboard, pushed him in, and the locked the door. Damn those w--freaks! If they had never existed, none of this would have happened. Petunia and I would be living a nice life right now with our lovely Dudley, not having to worry about...the M word, Vernon thought irritably.

In the night, the Dursley couple was getting ready for bed, Dudley already asleep with his loud snores across the hall. Petunia slipped out the door.

"Where're you going, honey?" Vernon asked, heaving himself onto the bed. Petunia hid her disgust as she watched his flabby body.

"Just going to check if all the lights are off downstairs," she answered, quietly moving out farther in the hall.

"Okay," Vernon said, mentally shrugging. What a neat freak. But he loved her much. "Good night, honey."

"Good night," she echoed, and went down the stairs. Vernon's snores could be heard in a few seconds.

She didn't know exactly why she had gone out of the room and moved downstairs. Her eyes scanned the dark, silent rooms. Everything was as it should be. She found herself moving toward the cupboard under the stairs, where her nephew was sleeping. Mentally she felt horrified--what was she doing, moving toward where Harry was, when she should be resting instead?

Her hand found the key in the drawer of the hall table and she quietly unlocked the door, the hinges creaking as she opened it.

Harry was sleeping, his black hair gently fluttering from the force of his breath, his scar revealing itself and disappearing. His glasses were taken off on the floor, and his bright green eyes could not be seen. Petunia stood there for what seemed like the longest time, staring at him. So gentle was he in his sleep, nothing to be afraid of! So innocent and childish! So much better than the sight of Dudley, with his loud, grunting snores and thick, flabby body!

What am I saying?

Petunia thought to herself, terrified of her own secret opinions. What am I doing?

Harry stirred in his sleep and called out softly. His voice sounded scared. With maternal instinct she had long hidden, Petunia swiftly went over to him and prepared to comfort his small, weak body. Then she stopped. This is a freak! she reminded herself. A--a magical...a wizard! A child born of that sinful Lily! Harry's sleeping face contorted into an expression of hurt. Petunia tried to ignore it. I can't! I promised! I shall never comfort him! She drew away swiftly. No! She went to the door and grabbed the key, terrified, preparing to lock it quickly. But she couldn't. Down Harry's face, tears were spilling freely, into his mouth and down onto his shirt. The hurt that he was forced to hide during the day was now coming out in the night, in the salty, pitiful form of tears. There was sniffling, and Petunia now realized with horror that Harry was awake. He had been awake the whole time she had been there.

Rattled, Petunia prepared once again to close the door, but Harry's bright green eyes drew her back into the room. Red against green stood out from her nephew's face, and his scar was somehow visible in the dim light. "Mummy?" he asked. "Have you come? Why did you leave, Mummy?" He waited in silence for an answer, then continued, "You were here, but you went away. Why did you leave so soon? Did you go to get Daddy? Is he here? Oh, Mummy, where are you?"

Petunia stood there in shock and silence. She dared not close the door.

"Mummy, come back," Harry pleaded into the dark. "I was telling you how horrible the Dursleys are to me. I want to finish. Please, come back, Mummy. Did you go to get Daddy? Why is he taking so long?" The little boy still got no answer. "Please, Mummy, come back," he said, beginning to sniffle. He began to cry. "I want you to come back, Mummy," he sobbed. "Please come back!" His eyes opened wide and recognized a figure at the door. In his half-asleep mind, he recognized his mother. "Please, Mummy, why are you not moving?" he asked the figure. Petunia started to leave, not wanting to get involved in this whole business. "Mummy, don't leave!" Harry cried. "Please, go get Daddy first. I want to meet him. Is he really like you say, Mummy? Is he really great? Did he really die fighting for us?" Harry began to cry, harder than ever. "Please, Mummy, just let me meet him."

Petunia's mouth was dry. "I..." she whispered.

Harry snapped to attention. "Mummy?" he asked. "Where are you?" His eyes began searching the closet frantically. "Mummy, please stop playing games with me now."

He can't recognize me in the dark,

Petunia realized. She found herself moving to the poor boy in the room.

"Mummy!" Harry cried brightly. "Mummy, come here. Did you bring Daddy with you?"

"No," Petunia managed to answer, in a cracked voice. "He...he was sleeping." She felt Harry's pang of disappointment. He asked hopefully, "But he'll come next time, won't he?"

"Oh, yes," Petunia replied. "I'll make him get up and meet you! He was just very tired today, that's all."

"Yay!" Harry cried, in childish joy. Then he asked sadly, "You have to leave soon, don't you?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes," Petunia answered, not realizing the sadness in her voice. "But I'll come back tomorrow." What am I doing?! Petunia asked herself silently.

"Oh, okay," Harry said, in a disappointed tone of voice. "But you'll give me a hug before you leave, won't you?"

"Of course!" Petunia couldn't stop the words from coming out. She went toward the boy and grasped him in a hug tightly. His tears of sadness and joy flowed down onto her nightdress. "Mummy, I'm going to miss you," he whispered.

"I'm going to miss you too," she answered.

"Bye, Mummy," Harry said, releasing himself. He lay down on the mattress and turned over, his back facing Petunia.

"Good-bye, Harry," Petunia whispered. Harry smiled and closed his eyes, and in a few minutes, he was asleep.

Petunia backed out of the cupboard silently, then locked the door behind her in the hallway. She felt tears on her cheeks and she wiped them away angrily. What had she been doing back there? What had happened to her? But she knew.

Lily.