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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)
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Petunia enjoyed this time of day the most, early in the morning before her two strapping boys had risen from their beds. This was her chance to read the gossip columns in the daily paper while peacefully enjoying her first cup of tea. Only after this much loved ritual would she start making the large breakfast her men folk required. This was her normal way to start the day and Petunia hated anything that interfered with her oh so normal life.
Discovering a baby on your doorstep when you went to fetch the morning paper was certainly not something that could be considered normal. That the baby had his tiny fist clutching a letter addressed to Petunia Dursley immediately ruled out any chance of mistaken identity, the child had been deliberately left at number four Privet Drive's doorstep.
The chill that saw Petunia draw the quilted housecoat tighter around her thin body wasn't purely down to this year's first touch of frost on their front lawn. That a baby could survive out here, never mind be ignored by both the milkman and the paperboy, reeked of something she was desperately trying to forget even existed. The reports on the news of owls behaving strangely and weird light shows in the sky began to make some sense to the housewife, only something cataclysmic in the magical word would see this child end up here. Lily's eyes staring at her from this child left no room for doubt to his identity.
Petunia was reluctant to take the Potter child into her home but what choice did she have? if she left him there then the neighbours were bound to notice eventually, that couldn't be allowed to happen.
Vernon was awoken by his clearly upset wife, that he couldn't smell his bacon cooking provided a further clue to just how upset she was. Seeing the letter clutched in her hand had Vernon sitting up in bed and reaching for his reading glasses.
After reading the words on the strange paper, Vernon blew his top. "Who do these bastards think they are, that they can dump their unwanted rubbish on our doorstep and expect us to look after their mess? I'm sorry to hear about your sister Petunia but we will not be raising her son. We'll just give him back and explain we don't want the little freak."
It was a very nervous Petunia who answered her enraged husband. "The letter said that the boy living here would provide some kind of protection for our family, for Dudley, shouldn't we..."
Her husband cut right across her. "That's a load of tosh, designed to get us to take the boy in. If our family is in danger then we call the police, I would rather put my faith in them than some crackpot who leaves babies on doorsteps in November."
"But Vernon, where would we give him back to? An orphanage?"
"The boy will be better amongst his own kind, didn't you say once that they had their own government?"
"Yes, but I wouldn't have a clue where to find it. I visited a place called Diagon Alley once when Lily had just turned eleven, I never went back there again."
"That will have to do then. I'll go there and hand the sprog over to the first respectable person I see. Put this letter back in the envelope and they can have that as well. I'll want my breakfast first though."
Petunia recognised an order when she heard one and rushed downstairs to the kitchen. As she was cooking breakfast, it gave her time to reflect on the wider implications that the Potter child currently in her living room signified, Lily was dead. She attempted to rationalise why that news didn't hurt her more and could really only come up with one answer.
As far as Petunia was concerned, the girl she knew as Lily Evans started the process of being dead to her from the first year the redhead left on that train to Scotland. Lily finally completed that journey the day she angrily proclaimed Vernon Dursley wasn't good enough for Petunia Evans. Petunia drew no comfort from the thought that Lily's own marriage had apparently been a direct contributor to her death at the age of only twenty one.
-oOoOo-
Vernon was in a foul mood. He'd walked up and down Charring Cross Road at least a dozen times and all he had to show for it was sore feet. That wasn't exactly true, his left arm was numb from the weight of the child he had resting there. Vernon had seen plenty of what he would consider 'freakish' people walking up and down too, but they all seemed to disappear the instant he took his eyes of them. He had resorted to staring but something always seemed to catch his attention just before they disappeared.
The child was starting to girn again but Vernon had the Dursley patented answer for that, his mother swore by it and it had worked on his own son. One of Dudley's old dummy tits dipped into a tiny pot of honey soon quietened the child, the boy liked it so much his little hand closed over Vernon's meaty finger.
For Vernon, this was like the curtains being drawn back. Suddenly he could see the decrepit old pub sitting there exactly as his wife described it. He had never seen an establishment that was less inviting in his life but it held the means for him to dispose of the bundle currently clinging to his finger, he kept his head down while entering the Leaky Cauldron.
Petunia had told him he needed to go through to the back of the pub where a wall would grant him access, though he would need to wait on someone opening it before he could enter the alley. Their fears of Vernon standing out as being normal were proving totally groundless, he could have rode in there upon an elephant and no one would have batted an eyelid. The whole place appeared to be in the midst of some kind of celebration, a celebration that seemed to have been ongoing for at least a day or two.
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Welcome to the world of our fanfic! Your support is the heartbeat of this story, allowing us to craft new adventures and explore deeper character arcs. With over 55 chapters ahead, becoming a patron gives you exclusive access to bonus content and the chance to influence the narrative's direction.
Join us on this thrilling ride—together, we can make every chapter unforgettable!
http//patreon.com/Kun_kanshi
(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)
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