Of Sisters and Sons

Chapter 1:

If Arabella Figg was surprised to see Petunia and Vernon Dursley on her front porch step, she didn't show it. In fact, the only greeting she managed at all was an expression caught somewhere between a glare and indignant propriety - the look of a woman who had long since past judgment and found them lacking in any sort of traits she would normally deem acceptable. A quiet sort of fear gripped Petunia's heart... 'She knows. She knows how we treated the boy while he was growing up, and she's not going to help us find him.'

For his part, Vernon eyed the older woman contemptuously, indignant that she would dare past judgment on them when she, herself, was associated with the very race of beings he found categorically inhuman.

It was the soft touch of his wife's hand on his shoulder that pressed them both forward, although awkwardly, the tension around them thicker in the air than sweltering summer humidity.

"Mrs. Figg, we've come to inquire about the boy... We thought maybe you could tell us how to find him," Petunia stated hesitantly, her courage failing under the piercing weight of the older woman's stare.

"Can't even bring yourselves to say his name, can you? I don't how you expect me to help you get in touch with him if you can't bring yourself to refer to your nephew by the name that your sister gave him. He is a boy no longer, and his name is Harry. Use it. Particularly in my presence," the normally polite and batty Mrs. Figg pronounced with a decidedly unbatty bite, her eyes hardening to a degree that even made Vernon twitch, causing him to finger the collar of his shirt nervously.

"We have come to you in the hopes of getting in contact with Harry," Petunia amended, placing dramatic emphases on the name as she gathered her wits. Neither of them had time for this, in fact, Dudley didn't have time for this. It irked Petunia that she had to involve a third party in a private family affair at all.

"And what, prey tell, makes you think that your nephew wants to hear from you?" the old woman asked with forced amusement, not moving to invite them inside as they remained facing each other awkwardly on the porch, " Do you know he visited me before he left Surrey that last time? I believe his final words to me were something along the lines of, 'if they ever come to you to ask where I am, which I highly doubt they will, tell them that I never wish to see them again.' I don't think that Mr. Potter would appreciate a visit, or contact of any kind from you. So why don't you be on your way? Go back to your delusional world of daily spun falsehoods and prejudice and leave that delightful young man, who has been through far too much in his lifetime, ALONE."

The words stung, no matter how much Petunia had expected them, in fact, she had worked hard throughout Harry's childhood to ensure that he would do nothing but hate them, but the fact that he had left such a cryptic message filled with such obvious disgust gave her heart a painful twinge. 'We did that to you, Harry. And what's worse, it was entirely intentional. I knew you wouldn't want to see us again, but to hear it spoken aloud like that is quite distressing, regardless of who and what you are.'

For Vernon, however, Arabella Figgs' words evoked an entirely different response... blatant anger.

"How dare you stand there and tell us what to do, Madam. We took that boy in and provided him with food, clothes and shelter. He ought to be grateful for all that we've done. I am not going to stand here and take this verbal assault from you or anyone else. Now tell me how to get a hold of my nephew."

Petunia could only stare at her husband in horror, fearing he had just ruined what precious chance they had at gaining the other woman's help, while Mrs. Figg simply raised an eyebrow and regarded the overbearing man with freshly roused contempt.

"Interesting choice of words, there, Vernon. 'Verbal assault', indeed. Seems to me that I overheard more than one verbal assault heaped onto Harry throughout the years, and all the way from your house to mine, mind," the old woman announced with disdain, shaking her head in semi disbelief at Vernon's gumption. "In fact, let's examine these supposed things you did for the child, shall we. Food? Nonsense, that boy was malnourished and skinny as a rail throughout most of his childhood. Clothes? Well, those would have been nice, had he owned any that fit him properly and hadn't belonged to that overfed son of yours first. Shelter, well, I suppose the boy did have that. It's really too bad that he had it without an ounce of love to call his own, though. I sometimes wonder how Harry turned out as well as he did considering all of the damage the two of you have bestowed upon him. Do not come here and speak to me about false sacrifices concerning that child, Dursley, or I will gladly contact an auror or two to show you how the wizarding world would feel about negligence when it comes to Harry Potter."

The old woman took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping as her anger settled, and her age manifested itself through her tired, wizened eyes, while both Dursley's stared at her in openly horrified shock.

"Leave the child alone," she finished softly, negating her earlier threat through the thin veil of serenity. "He's done nothing but good in his life and he doesn't need the excess grief nor traumatic memories you'd bring down on him. Please, if you have any love in your heart for your nephew at all, leave him in peace."

The elderly woman's words came out as a moved plea, and Petunia felt her eyes tearing up, wishing desperately that she could do exactly that - leave Harry alone. She owed him that much, but she couldn't and the reason she couldn't came back to squeeze her heart hard.

'Would it have been different had I treated Dudley and Harry the same? Would Dudley be happy, healthy? Would Harry not carry so much pain in his heart? It is possible, despite Harry being a wizard, that their relationship would have turned out different from yours and mine, Lily. I just wanted to make sure that Dudley never felt inadequate for not being one of them. In fact, it was Harry who I wanted to feel inadequate - for having such a wretched oddity of genetics. My final defiance against your world. Didn't work out that way, did it? I wish you were alive so I could blame for how things have come to pass. I really wish I could.'

"I can't do that, Mrs. Figg," Petunia spoke through tears, "it is very important that we reach him. Please, just tell us how."

The old woman stood, perfectly silent, eyeing them for several more minutes, the seconds ticking by, weighted with sorrow, concern, and frustration, while Petunia and Vernon stood unmoving, too afraid to speak and break the terrifying stillness.

"I have an owl," she announced at last, coming to a decision while seemingly aging twenty more years, too drained to argue further. She had said what she needed to say. "You may write him a letter. The owl will make sure that he gets it."

And with that she turned and motioned them to follow her indoors.

*****

The only thing more annoying, to an eight-year-old, than having a younger sister three years her junior, was having a younger sister who insisted on tagging along with everything Petunia had ever done and ever intended to do. In fact, it was the mere fact that Lily was rather adorable, with her red pigtails, bright green eyes, and quick mind, that prevented her from being cast out of Petunia's room, and therefore life, ages ago. As it was, Lily's presence, particularly when one of Petunia's friends was over, was barely tolerated: one for the sake of peace, and two because her mother had always insisted upon it... with more emphases on the later than the former.

Still, occasionally, the forced presence of her sister weighed heavily on Petunia, especially when there were secrets to share, and giggles to exchange... secrets that a five-year-old couldn't possible understand, nor were they secrets that Petunia particularly wanted her sister to be included in receiving. Lily was the baby, whereas she, Petunia Evans, was practically a young lady.

"Lily, don't you have something else that you could be doing?" Petunia asked, giving her younger sister a look that indicated 'you'd better'.

"But I thought that we were going to play dolls?" Lily asked, her big, doe eyes tearing as she looked back and forth between Petunia and her friend Holly. "You said before that I could play them with you."

"Yes, but that was then, and this is now. We wish to be alone now, go away," the older girl announced with finality, sticking her nose in the air for good measure.

At Lily's tears, the visiting girl eyed Petunia guiltily, conceding to Lily's presence with cheerful grace. "It's okay if Lily stays, Petunia. I really don't mind."

"Well, I mind," Petunia announced, hurt and more than a little betrayed that her friend hadn't stuck by her on this point.

Out of sheer annoyance she bounced of her bed and approached her younger sister. "Lily, I said go away."

"I don't want to. You said that you, me and Holly were going to play dolls. I want to play dolls, like you said," Lily replied stubbornly, sticking up her own chin in defiance, as her arms remained clutched around a small porcelain china doll: one Petunia knew was a Christmas present from their parents, and Lily's personal favorite.

Out of frustration, Petunia grabbed the doll from her sisters grasp, her temper beginning to fray. "If you don't go right now, I'm going to throw this doll against the wall. It might break."

"No, don't," both Lily and Holly shouted, the former standing up and rushing at her sister with a pained expression.

"I'm telling," Lily announced to Petunia as the elder girl held her grown, doll poised in her hand and ready to throw.

"You do that," Petunia bit back, angrier still, particularly when Lily started jumping to try and grab the doll back out of Petunia's hands.

With a final snort, Petunia aimed the doll for the door, and threw it, hoping that Lily would follow the fragile object out and she could slam the door behind her, but instead something decidedly odd happened... The doll stopped, suspended in midair, before it reached the doorway. The older two occupants of the room stared, gapping, for a long period of time, unsure of what to do. It wasn't until Petunia turned to look down at her sister that she discovered the source of the oddity... Lily was looking at the doll in profound concentration, in fact, it looked as if Lily was somehow holding the doll up by the strength of her gaze alone.

Petunia's eyes narrowed as a shrill squeal interrupted her revelation.

"Petunia, your house is haunted!" Holly screamed, jumping to her feet, her expression portraying her fear. "I think I'm going to go home, I don't want to be in a house with ghosts in it."

Holly was out the door and halfway down the steps to the front entrance before Petunia could call... "Wait, no it's not. Lily did that. I don't know how, but it was Lily. I swear it."

The shock of the events around her caused Lily to lose her concentration, and the doll fell to the floor in a heap, both girls too stunned to make a move for it.

It only took Petunia a moment before her fury came back in full force.

"Look at what you did! You made Holly leave! This is all your fault! Now she wont want to come back here ever again," she screamed at her sister, ignoring the tears forming in Lily's eyes.

"Girls," they both heard their mother call, stopping Petunia mid-tirade as the elder Evans came up to the door and peeked in on her daughters, "what on earth is going on in here?"

"Lily made the doll stay stuck in the air, mother," Petunia announced angrily, hoping for reinforcements when Lily was clearly in the wrong.

"I didn't mean to!" Lily responded, pleading desperately with her mother to believe her.

"Don't be silly, Petunia," the elder Evans admonished with a stern expression, "there is no way Lily can make objects float in the air. I'm going to have to seriously start monitoring what you children watch on television. I've never heard of such nonsense. Now I want you girls to get along, I don't want to have to come in here again... got it?"

Both girls nodded silently, the elder one fuming, the younger one visibly confused, as their mother left.

It wasn't until Petunia heard her mother's footsteps retreating down the hall that she turned on her sister, fiercely irate over both the absence of her friend, and the admonishment of their mother.

"I'm on to you, Lily. I know it was you who did that. You're never going to get to play with me when I have friends over ever again," she announced with finality, turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to her sister's now body-wracking sobs.

To be continued...