Chapter 1: A New Arrival
The Knight Bus screeched to a halt outside Number 4, Privet Drive, with a jolt that nearly sent Harry flying out of his seat. The familiar, twisted houses of Little Whinging stood in sharp contrast to the strange, otherworldly adventures he had recently left behind. With a sigh, Harry grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage, preparing himself for another dreary summer with the Dursleys.
"Take care, 'Arry!" Stan Shunpike called from the bus's door as Harry stepped off. The young wizard nodded absently, his mind already on what awaited him inside. He hadn't received a single letter from his relatives this past year, and he could only imagine what that meant for his summer.
The Knight Bus vanished with a loud bang, leaving Harry standing alone on the quiet street. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the neatly trimmed lawns and identical houses. As he approached the front door, Harry couldn't help but notice that something felt... different. The house seemed quieter than usual, almost subdued.
He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, expecting the usual surly greeting from Uncle Vernon or a curt nod from Aunt Petunia. Instead, the door opened to reveal a woman Harry had never seen before.
She was in her early forties, with warm brown eyes and curly hair streaked with gray. She wore a simple dress and had an air of calm about her that was foreign to the chaos Harry usually associated with the Dursleys. She looked at him with an expression that was neither hostile nor overly friendly—just curious.
"Hello," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You must be Harry."
Harry blinked in surprise. "Uh, yes. Who are you?"
The woman smiled gently. "I'm Yolanda. I'm a friend of your aunt's. I've been staying here for a little while."
Harry's mind raced as he tried to process this information. A friend of Aunt Petunia's? Staying here? He'd never known his aunt to have close friends, and certainly not ones who would stay in their home.
Before Harry could respond, Yolanda stepped aside and gestured for him to come in. "Come on in, Harry. Petunia is in the kitchen."
Cautiously, Harry entered the house. The familiar hallway looked the same, but there was an odd tension in the air, like the house was holding its breath. He noticed that the usual harshness of the Dursleys seemed absent. Even Dudley's absence in the hallway was unsettling.
"Your aunt's been expecting you," Yolanda added as she closed the door behind him. "She mentioned you might be coming back today."
Harry nodded, still trying to figure out who this woman was and why she was here. He could hear the clattering of dishes from the kitchen, and with a sense of unease, he made his way down the hallway.
As he entered the kitchen, he found Aunt Petunia at the sink, her back turned to him. The kitchen was as spotless as ever, but there was something different about Petunia herself. She seemed... thinner, more worn-out. Her usual sharp movements were slower, more deliberate. When she turned around and saw Harry standing there, her expression softened in a way that took him completely by surprise.
"Harry," she said, almost gently. "You're back."
Harry stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. This was not the welcome he had expected. Where was the usual scorn, the barely concealed contempt?
"Yeah," he finally said, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm back."
Petunia dried her hands on a dish towel, avoiding eye contact. "Vernon… Vernon isn't here. He... he passed away, Harry. A car accident, a few weeks ago."
Harry felt a strange, hollow sensation in his chest. Uncle Vernon, gone? It didn't seem real. He knew he should feel something—sadness, shock—but all he could manage was a vague sense of disbelief. Vernon Dursley had been a fixture in his life, a source of misery and anger, but now… he was just gone.
"I see," Harry said quietly. He wasn't sure what else to say. He had never imagined he'd hear such news, let alone feel so indifferent to it.
Yolanda, who had followed him into the kitchen, stepped forward. "It's been hard on Petunia," she said softly, her gaze shifting between Harry and Petunia. "That's why I've been here, helping out. And I'm here for you too, if you need anything."
Harry glanced at Yolanda, then back at his aunt. Petunia looked almost fragile now, a stark contrast to the stern woman he had known all his life. He could see the weariness in her eyes, the strain of losing her husband and trying to keep everything together.
"I'll just take my things up to my room," Harry said, eager to escape the awkward atmosphere.
"Of course," Petunia murmured, nodding slightly. "Yolanda and I will be here if you need anything."
As Harry picked up his trunk and Hedwig's cage, he couldn't shake the strange feeling that had settled over him. Vernon's death, Petunia's unexpected softness, and the presence of this new woman, Yolanda—it was all too much to process.
As he climbed the stairs to his room, Harry couldn't help but wonder what kind of summer lay ahead. Something had changed at Number 4, Privet Drive, and he had a feeling it wasn't just the absence of his uncle.
Harry reached the top of the stairs and paused, looking down the hallway to his small bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open cautiously. The room was exactly as he had left it—small, cramped, and filled with his belongings from Hogwarts. Hedwig hooted softly as he set her cage on the desk near the window, grateful for some semblance of normalcy in the otherwise strange situation.
Harry unpacked his trunk mechanically, his mind elsewhere. Vernon's death, Petunia's unusual behavior, and the presence of Yolanda—all these thoughts swirled in his head. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of detachment from it all. The Dursleys had never been a real family to him, and now, with Vernon gone, the house felt even less like home.
As he placed his textbooks on the small bookshelf by the bed, Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. He turned to see Yolanda standing in the doorway, her expression gentle.
"How are you holding up, Harry?" she asked, stepping into the room.
Harry shrugged, not sure how to answer. "I'm… okay, I guess. It's just… weird."
Yolanda nodded understandingly. "It's a lot to take in, I'm sure. I know you and Vernon didn't have the best relationship, but losing someone, even someone like him, can be unsettling."
Harry looked at her, trying to gauge her intentions. Yolanda seemed genuine enough, but he couldn't help but feel wary. He had learned long ago not to trust easily, especially when it came to the Dursleys and their friends.
"I didn't really know him that well," Harry said quietly. "Not in a way that would make me miss him."
Yolanda studied him for a moment before speaking again. "Petunia mentioned that things were… difficult for you here. I can see that in how you carry yourself. But I want you to know that I'm here to listen, if you ever want to talk."
Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that. No one had ever offered to listen before, at least not in this house. He nodded, unsure of what else to say.
Yolanda gave him a small smile. "I know this is a lot, but give yourself some time to adjust. If you ever need anything—anything at all—just come find me."
With that, she turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Harry sat down on the edge of his bed, staring at the door she had just exited. He couldn't shake the feeling that this summer was going to be different, but whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, he couldn't yet tell.
Later that evening, after unpacking and settling back into the routine of life at Privet Drive, Harry found himself in the kitchen again. Petunia was there, sitting at the table with a cup of tea, her hands wrapped around the mug as if seeking warmth from it. Yolanda was there too, clearing up the remnants of dinner.
As Harry entered, both women looked up. Petunia's expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in the air that hadn't been there earlier.
"Harry," Petunia began, her voice faltering slightly, "I… I wanted to talk to you about Vernon."
Harry remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
Petunia looked down at her tea, as if searching for the right words. "I know you didn't get along with him, and… and I know we haven't treated you well. But I want you to know that things are going to be different now."
Harry blinked, taken aback by her words. This was not the Petunia he knew. The Petunia he knew would never admit to any fault, especially not in how she and Vernon had treated him.
"I don't expect you to forgive us," Petunia continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to try to make things better. I want to… to be better."
Harry didn't know what to say. He had spent so many years in this house, feeling unwanted, unloved, and now, suddenly, Petunia was talking about making things better? It didn't seem real.
Before he could respond, Yolanda spoke up, her voice calm and measured. "It's been hard for her, Harry. Losing Vernon, dealing with everything that's happened… But she's trying. We both are."
Harry looked at Yolanda, then back at his aunt. Petunia looked almost fragile, her usual stern demeanor replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.
"I'll try too," Harry said finally, his voice quiet. "But it's not easy to just forget everything."
Petunia nodded, looking relieved. "I understand. I just… I want us to try."
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. It was a small step, but it was more than Harry had ever expected from the Dursleys.
As the evening wore on, Harry found himself retreating to his room, his mind buzzing with the events of the day. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything.
Vernon was gone, Petunia was different, and Yolanda… Yolanda was still a mystery to him. But for the first time in a long while, Harry felt like maybe, just maybe, things could change. It wouldn't be easy, and it wouldn't happen overnight, but it was a start.
This summer was going to be different. Harry could feel it. And as he settled into sleep, he wondered just how different things might become.
Certainly! Here's the continuation and completion of Chapter 1:
Harry lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the events of the day replayed in his mind. The quietness of the house, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards or the soft hum of the refrigerator, felt almost eerie compared to the chaos that usually surrounded him at the Dursleys. It was strange to think that Vernon was gone, even stranger to consider that Petunia might actually want to change.
The following morning, Harry was up early. Old habits, drilled into him over years of being the Dursleys' personal servant, died hard. He made his way downstairs, expecting to find Petunia already in the kitchen, barking orders as usual. But instead, he found Yolanda at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea and reading the newspaper.
"Good morning, Harry," Yolanda greeted him with a warm smile.
"Morning," Harry replied, a little surprised. He glanced around, half expecting Petunia to appear any second. "Where's Aunt Petunia?"
"She's still resting," Yolanda said, setting down her cup. "She didn't sleep well last night."
Harry nodded, unsure of what to say. He hovered near the doorway, feeling awkward.
"Come, sit down," Yolanda said, gesturing to the chair opposite her. "I made some toast if you're hungry."
Harry hesitated before moving to sit down. He wasn't used to being offered breakfast; usually, he was the one expected to prepare it. He reached for a slice of toast, suddenly aware of how much he had grown over the past year at Hogwarts. His clothes were starting to feel tighter, a reminder of how little he had grown used to getting in terms of new clothing.
Yolanda watched him for a moment before speaking again. "You know, Harry, I've been friends with your Aunt Petunia for a long time. We go way back."
Harry looked up, curious but wary.
"We weren't always close," Yolanda continued. "In fact, we lost touch for a while after she married Vernon. But when she reached out to me recently, I knew she needed support."
Harry said nothing, unsure of where this conversation was heading.
"I know things have been difficult for you here," Yolanda said gently. "And I can't imagine what it's been like for you growing up. But I want you to know that I'm here now, and I want to help, if you'll let me."
Harry studied Yolanda's face, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all he saw was genuine concern. It was strange—he had never had an adult outside of Hogwarts express any real care for him, except perhaps for Mrs. Figg, and even she had been more interested in keeping an eye on him for Dumbledore.
"Thanks," Harry said quietly, not quite sure how else to respond. "I'll… I'll think about it."
Yolanda nodded, understanding his hesitation. "That's all I ask."
The rest of the day passed quietly. Petunia remained mostly in her room, leaving Harry and Yolanda to themselves. Harry spent most of his time in his room, reading through his Hogwarts textbooks and thinking about everything that had happened since he got off the Knight Bus the day before.
It wasn't until late afternoon that Harry finally ventured out of his room again. He was heading downstairs when he overheard voices coming from the living room.
"He doesn't show any sadness, Petunia," Yolanda was saying. "It's like Vernon's death hasn't affected him at all."
Harry paused on the stairs, straining to hear Petunia's response.
Petunia's voice was quiet, almost resigned. "We didn't treat him well, Yolanda. Vernon and I… we were hard on him. Too hard. I think… I think we broke something in him."
There was a pause, and Harry could imagine Yolanda's face, filled with concern.
"But still, he's just a boy," Yolanda said softly. "No one deserves to grow up like that."
"I know," Petunia whispered. "I know. But what can I do now? How can I make it right?"
"You can start by talking to him," Yolanda suggested. "Show him that you care. It won't be easy, but it's a start."
Petunia sighed heavily. "I don't know if he'll ever forgive me. And I wouldn't blame him if he didn't."
Harry felt a lump in his throat as he listened. He had spent so many years hating the Dursleys for how they treated him, but hearing Petunia speak like this… it was confusing. He didn't know what to think.
Before he could dwell on it further, he heard Yolanda's voice again. "Maybe you could show me where he used to sleep. The cupboard under the stairs, right?"
Harry's blood ran cold. He knew what was coming next, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it.
Petunia's footsteps moved toward the hallway, and Harry quickly retreated back up the stairs, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. He heard the cupboard door creak open, followed by Yolanda's sharp intake of breath.
"This… this is where he slept?" Yolanda's voice was filled with disbelief and horror.
"Yes," Petunia admitted, her voice trembling. "For years. It was… it was Vernon's idea, but I didn't stop him. I should have, but I didn't."
Harry clenched his fists, memories of those dark, cramped days flooding back. It was hard to reconcile the Petunia who allowed that with the one who now seemed to be filled with regret.
There was a long silence, and then Yolanda spoke again, her tone softer. "Petunia, you can't change the past, but you can try to make amends. Show Harry that you're sorry, that you want to be better."
"I'll try," Petunia whispered. "I'll try."
Harry stood at the top of the stairs, feeling a strange mix of emotions—anger, confusion, and something else he couldn't quite name. He had always thought he knew who the Dursleys were, what they were capable of. But now… now he wasn't so sure.
Taking a deep breath, Harry turned away from the stairs and headed back to his room. He needed time to think, to process everything he had heard. But one thing was clear—this summer was going to be different, in ways he could never have imagined.