Of Sisters and Sons

Chapter 2:

Harry,

I'm sure you're surprised, to say the least, that your uncle and I have decided to contact you. I realize that there is a lot of ill will between us, a subject, I'm sure, that brings all of us pause, but by the end of the day we are family, and a family crises has arisen that is entirely too distressing for your uncle's and my own sanity. Please understand that the reasons for this letter fall under the direst of circumstances.

Dudley is very sick; in fact, the doctors think there may be a possibility that he wont get better. We're at our wits end, in our world, trying to keep him alive. However, it dawned on us that there might be a way for you to heal him using that skill you developed at that school.

Please answer promptly,

Petunia and Vernon Dursley

Petunia and Vernon Dursley,

Yes, you can say I was surprised to hear from you. In fact, I don't think surprise quite covered it. More along the lines of thoroughly stunned. But then I read the letter and realized that you wanted something from me and the surprise rapidly faded into a decidedly unsurprised reaction. Of course you only write me when you've lost all other hope, that is extremely fitting to your behavior, although, I must admit I find it a bit strange that you thought to involve magic in this at all. You've made your feelings on the matter quite clear.

And yes, notice I used the word magic. I observed that you only alluded to it in your letter, and if you continue to hold it in such disregard, as I know you do, I don't know how you can come to expect it to heal your son. As a side note, and despite the fact that I never wish to see any of the three of you again, I am truly sorry about Dudley. I wouldn't wish death or ill health on anyone. I've seen far too much of it in my life.

Speaking of Dudley, the drugs and the drinking finally caught up to him, huh? I realized long ago that his habits would only do him harm, but naturally, if I had brought it to your attention, I would have either been called a liar blatantly to my face and punished, or blamed for it somehow and punished. I thought it best if I didn't involve myself at all. It is upsetting that it led to this.

You realize that your recent letter to me is the first time I've ever heard you refer to me as part of your family? I'm not quite sure how I feel about that, as I've made every effort to overcome the memories of the portion of my life that I spent with you. I never felt like a part of the family while living in your home, in fact, you made me feel like the social outcast, and the fact that you only use our connection now because you expect something from me has more than a bit of a sting to it.

That said, I couldn't help you. I do not think magic will heal Dudley: one because he achieved his illness through a muggle means, and two because he is a muggle himself. Our healing techniques and remedies are achieved partly through the innate use of magic; I don't think that Dudley's body can handle it.

I am sorry for your tragedy, and, as I said before, despite my personal feelings when it comes to the three of you, I sincerely hope that Dudley is revived and all of you find good health.

Harry J. Potter

Harry,

We were troubled upon reading your reply. Initially, your uncle wanted to write this response, but I convinced him to let me do it for two reasons: one because anger between us will achieve nothing, and two because I realize that you have every right to feel the way that you do. We did everything within our power to raise you to believe that magic was unwanted and unwelcome in our household. My reasons for this were my own, and perhaps they are ill formed. Magic, from my perspective, has only ever resulted in death. In fact, to be entirely honest, it often amazes me that you lived to adulthood. I feared that you would eventually meet Lily's end.

But that is neither here nor there, and despite the evidence to the contrary, I am relieved that you made it. I may disapprove of your lifestyle, I may have made your childhood infinitely unpleasant, but you are, at the end of the day, my nephew and Lily's son.

You're a lot like your mother; did I ever tell you that? Oh, you look mostly like your father, for sure, except for the eyes, but in nature you're exactly like Lily. You have her passion, her flair, her wit, and her temper. While you were growing up I would often see her shining through the intensity of everything that you did. Perhaps that didn't help your cause any, as Lily and I never truly got along, but there are days when I think of her, and I miss her. Just as there are days when I think of you, and wonder what you're up to... wonder where you are. Have you met that special someone? Got married? Are you thinking of having children of your own at some point? You're approaching twenty-one now, practically a man.

Despite all of the evidence to the contrary, I am not entirely without heart when it comes to you. I did raise you, after all, however you may resent me for it. I used to think that my parents loved Lily more because she was a witch. When I had Dudley, and then inherited you, I made a vow that Dudley would never feel that jealously, and that you would see magic for what it was, inherently evil. It has come to my attention that I did a terrible job of it, of raising you, that is. My son is lying in a coma, and my nephew justifiably hates his family.

I didn't know that you knew of Dudley's habits, but then, it shouldn't surprise me. You were always perceptive, even when you were very small. I regret now that we never had an open enough relationship that you could have come to me with your knowledge. Truthfully, I had never thought it would come to this, and now that is has, I have been forced to look back on my actions with regret. Could we have all spared ourselves this pain, Harry? Can we spare ourselves this pain now?

I did my son a disservice by spoiling him the way I did, and now he may lose his life for it. I did you a disservice by never giving you the proper love and attention that any growing boy needs, and now Dudley may die for it.

I have no right to ask you this, but I honestly, truly and sincerely don't want to lose my son. I have a mountain of regret, and so little time. I can't change the past, but maybe we can alter the future. I know you stated that you feel that magic wont help Dudley, but I'm pleading with you to try. Please, just come and see for yourself, try yourself, to see if you can help him.

I will never ask anything of you again. We don't know what else to do.

Sincerely,

Aunt Petunia

Aunt Petunia,

I'm coming to visit Dudley. I'm bringing with me one of our med witches, and another witch who is well versed in healing charms. Please be advised that we will arrive in Surrey shortly. I am not promising anything, but we will do what we can.

Harry

*****

Fourteen-year-old Petunia Evans looked up from the kitchen table where she and Lily were sitting in preparation for dinner, to watch their father walk into the room holding a letter with an openly startled expression on his face.

"I just saw the oddest thing on my way up the walk way," he announced to the room, looking around the room until he met his wife's gaze. "This owl swooped down to our mail slot and dropped in this letter to Lily. I've never seen anything like it. A trained owl! It was quite a sight."

"An owl?" Their mother asked incredulously, as Petunia turned an accusing glare at her sister. Just one more oddity in the name of Lily, not that she was surprised.

Since that fateful doll incident six years prior, Petunia had been keeping track of the abnormal incidences that constantly surrounded Lily. Whenever her sister was upset, or feeling particularly emotional, strange things seem to happen. Petunia's only solace was that her parents had eventually caught on as well; they knew that their youngest was capable of amazing feats, though they didn't punish her for it nearly enough, from Petunia's point of view. After all, it was because of Lily that all of Petunia's friends thought her house was haunted, therefore ensuring that they never wanted to visit. It was because of Lily that Petunia had to endure the not-so-subtle whispers of her classmates.

But no, instead her parents walked around the house muttering things like 'telekinesis' and 'psychic' or even babbling about how Lily was capable of using parts of her brain that most humans never tapped into. It seemed as though the Evans had more than one theory surrounding their daughter's ability, and they often spoke of it with something akin to mild reverence, leaving Petunia to feel as if she were the only truly sane person in the household. She didn't consider Lily's abilities to be that special, particularly when they threatened Petunia's social standing. Owls, indeed.

"Well, what does the letter say?" Mrs. Evans asked, throwing a towel over her shoulder as she looked from her husband to her youngest.

"Why don't we let Lily find out," their father suggested, walking over to his daughter and placing the letter before her.

To Petunia's annoyance, Lily completely ignored the dirty looks that the older girl was throwing at her as she switched her concentration to the letter placed before her, turning it over in her hands as she beamed up to her father... Lily didn't receive that much mail, and for that matter, Petunia didn't either, and when she did it was never by owl.

With another quick, timid smile to their parents, Lily daintily opened the letter and lifted out a couple pieces of parchment, unfolding them slowly before she started to read:

Dear Ms. Evans,

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 the necessary books and equipment...

Lily's voice trailed off as she looked up at her parents with mild trepidation, unsure of how they'd take this latest development, but she needn't have bothered - much to Petunia's great annoyance. Their mother was all smiles, a look of mild awe adorning her beautiful features, and their father let out an excited whoop, pulling the startled redhead out of the chair to embrace her in a tight hug.

"Lily, that's wonderful! A witch! My own child! This is brilliant news, absolutely fantastic. Just wait till we tell your grandparents. I always knew you had something in you..." their father's voice trailed off as he noticed his wife picking up the letter and rereading it, growing more thrilled for her daughter by the minute as she started on the second piece of parchment.

"There's a list of things that Lily is going to need here, and directions to this place called 'Diagon Alley' to acquire them. It gives instructions on how to enter this place once we get there, stating that Lily will have to be the one to open the entrance. This is all very exciting, I'm so proud of you, Lily."

Petunia could only watch the whole exchange in shock, startled entirely by her parents open acceptance of something so entirely peculiar. Didn't they find it strange that Lily had been invited to a school of witchcraft? Weren't witches beings that were green in color, with warts on their nose, and a cackle for a laugh? For that matter, since when were witches real? And since when did these unreal, green, warty, cackling beings have a school?

For a moment Petunia couldn't speak through her incredulity, but, upon further reflection, she realized that it wasn't that weird that witches might exist, after all, telekinetic, psychic, whole-brain-using eleven-year-olds weren't supposed to exist either, and Lily had defied all of those odds. It seemed to Petunia that Lily's weirdness had jaded them all into accepting that such a thing as a witchcraft school existed without any real protestation, and she made a mental note to catch herself about that in the future. It just wasn't normal to believe in such nuances of life that easily, even with all of the evidence right before her.

Petunia's reverie was interrupted by the sight of her sister looking to their father in dazed confusion, wearing the expression that Petunia had long ago dubbed 'the question face' - the gaze Lily wore whenever she was about to start one of her rapid-fire rounds of twenty questions. Really, the girl was far too curious for her own good, although Petunia found it slightly ironic that it would be Lily, out of all of them, that had pause on this whole 'witchcraft' thing, too.

"But father, what does learning to be a witch mean?" the small girl asked, her green eyes wide with wonder.

"It means, Lily-flower," their father responded, bending down to look his daughter in the eye, "that you are a very, very special young lady."

A pang pierced Petunia's heart at her father's answer and she wondered whether he realized the full implications of what he was saying... Lily was extra special because she got invited to a school of witchcraft, meaning that Petunia, who went to a normal school just like everyone else, was not.

To be continued...