Guys, I have made the necessary changes to make the story better.
Chapters 1 to 8 have been moved to prologue volume. The real story starts from chapter 9 in the second volume.
Enjoy this bonus chapter as well.
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Vernon had sent her the information that the family was moving and would contact her when they were settled. He hadn't given her a reason for the move or even told her exactly when the move would take place. He'd just said they were moving for business reasons and would be in touch when they were settled and ready for visitors. So she had no reason to come calling on the address any more. Or to even call on the phone. Unless she got drunk and forgot they'd written to say they were moving.
When it grew too dark and chilly for comfort on the rock any longer, Harry sighed and climbed down the rock to go inside. He turned on a low burning light in the kitchen that provided just enough light for him to cook by and made himself a light dinner. His Aunt had made sure he was accustomed to eating at least twice a day and eating small, well-balanced meals instead of just whatever he could get to quickly and eat just as fast.
She knew why he tended to eat that way and it made her wince as she worked to retrain him out of those habits. The three short weeks she had before the family left along with the couple of months the previous summer, to retrain Harry into sensible eating habits and in the ways he could remain here and be safe from harm, weren't very long but she was determined to do right by her sister's child for a change. She felt she owed it to the boy now that she fully understood exactly why he had been dumped on her in the manner he had been. And he understood why she hated the world that had stolen her sister away. Now that she knew she'd fallen straight into the trap that wicked old man had set for her and played into his game of making sure Harry had no binding ties to keep him from throwing his life away at the old man's whim. A life her sister had died trying to protect.
In Petunia's eyes, Albus Dumbledore had come to represent all the magical people in the world. In him, she had found someone to focus her hate for the world that took her sister and destroyed her childhood family. That got not only Lily but also their parents killed. Albus Dumbledore was the one who sent her sister a Hogwarts Letter. He was the one who refused to allow Petunia to attend the school as well. He was the one who had pushed Lily towards James and the Marauders. He was the one who made certain everyone over there knew her sister was a muggleborn thereby endangering her for no good reason.
He was the one who arranged for the Prophecy fragment, that got Lily killed and Harry orphaned, to be leaked to the other side. He was the one who did the spell to hide Lily and her small family to supposedly keep them safe. Which had in turn led the other side to the doorstep of her parents in an effort to flush Lily and James out of hiding. He was the one who dumped Harry on her doorstoop in the middle of the night. He was the one who locked an innocent man in prison because said man had the right to raise Harry over her. And now he was the one trying to kill Harry. Yes, she had found the one person in the magical world she could freely hate for all her troubles.
Harry did nothing to disillusion her of her feelings. Because except for the things that had occurred before he was even thought of, he knew she was correct. Everything bad that had occurred in Harry's life was due to the meddling of one Albus Dumbledore. And to his way of thinking, it was about time someone hated that man for what he had done and was doing. Someone other than him, that is. And Harry had finally admitted to himself he did in fact hate the headmaster. A lot.
She and Vernon had spent a lot of time while Harry and Dudley had been away at school this fourth year talking about their lives and Harry's role in them. They'd come to the conclusion if they were him, they'd hate them with a passion for the way he'd been treated by them. They recalled with shame their refusal to even tell him when his own birthday was as if it was such a shameful event it didn't bear mentioning and their unabashedly cruel behavior in the choice of Christmas presents they'd given him over the years. A bundle of switches and a lump of coal hadn't been demeaning enough for them. Oh no.
They'd given him holey socks, stretched completely out of shape and so worn they would never give a drop of warmth to his small feet. A Kleenex tissue Petunia had pulled from the box just that morning and of course it wasn't wrapped. How the hell could you wrap up a tissue anyway. They'd given him a cleaning rag, a scrub brush and a package of sponges, which actually were useful to him since Petunia made him do all the house cleaning on a daily basis and so was probably the most meaningful gift he'd ever received from them. A broken pencil worn down to a dull nub with no eraser left and other things of equally useless nature. All because they despised him over something he couldn't control and events he'd had no say in.
The best present they felt they had ever given him was a fifty pence piece. But the reasoning behind that wasn't nearly as charitable as it appeared. As it should have been. That had been his first year at Hogwarts and more because they were afraid of what people over there might do them if they gave him nothing. Or gave him a piece of garbage as was their normal habit. They hadn't given him anything in the subsequent years since Harry said he had opened his gift alone in his dorm room first thing in the morning and had of course informed him of his isolation in subsequent years. Therefore, in their minds, no one would know if they didn't give him a gift. So why should they spend their hard earned money on him when they didn't like or care about him at all?
By the end of June, they were feeling confident Harry would survive without them and hopeful that they'd finally be safe. They left, highly nervous and yet excited to be getting free of the mess their lives had been tangled in for the last decade and a half. They weren't even worried about what the neighbors would say or think. The neighbors never had said anything when the family went somewhere without Harry.
So none of them would think it was strange now. For the first time in years, they had hope. Hope that they'd survive more than a set number of years and it was only now that they were feeling hopeful again that they realized why they'd treated Harry so very badly to begin with. Subconsciously, they'd always known having him under their roof was a death sentence for them and yet because he was blood and had no one else, they hadn't been able to turn him away when he so clearly needed them.
Dudley, unlike his parents, had used the school year to regain his previous point of view about life and his place in it. He'd been raised to believe every bad thing in his life was the fault of his cousin and that his own standard of living was limited due to his parents being forced to house Harry as well as Dudley. His parents had taught him that his low school performance was due to Harry overshadowing him.
All of his personality flaws had always been blamed on Harry and any negative things other adults had said about Dudley or to him, were the fault of Harry telling false tales or showing him up in some manner. Even when he knew for a fact Harry had done no such thing, Dudley had long ago accepted it was, and always would be, Harry's fault when things went wrong for him. Not even having his hand slapped in the Pizzeria had made him realize change had come for his parents. That they no longer saw Harry as the reason for Dudley's failures. Or why bad things happened to the family. For them, Harry was now the victim. A victim they couldn't really help but would no longer blame for things they didn't like in their lives.
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