Dudley had been sent to bed an hour previously and Petunia had been pretending to read some trashy novel that her book club was currently discussing. After what seemed like a long time, Vernon announced that he was going to bed as well. He liked for them to go to bed together and was trying to stay up but he had to be at work very early in the morning. Vernon paused at the stairs and looked at his wife as though to ask if she was coming but she ignored him and forced her eyes to skim the words without really seeing them. Dudley had been sent to bed an hour previously and Petunia had been pretending to read some trashy novel that her book club was currently discussing. After what seemed like a long time, Vernon announced that he was going to bed as well. He liked for them to go to bed together and was trying to stay up but he had to be at work very early in the morning. Vernon paused at the stairs and looked at his wife as though to ask if she was coming but she ignored him and forced her eyes to skim the words without really taking them in. He climbed heavily up the stairs and only when she heard the door to their bedroom close did she set her book down and heave a great sigh.

It was July thirtieth and it was the last day she was to have her nephew under her roof. Relief flooded her at the thought that this time tomorrow the cupboard under the stairs would return to being just a spare storage space. She had been made to feel guilty repeatedly by Albus for her feelings of resentment for what he had asked her to do. She was doing a good thing for the wizarding world, didn't she see that? To which she could only think to remind him that the wizarding world hadn't particularly wanted her when she was interested and now she had her own life in the MUGGLE world.

Or she had until the baby had been dropped off on her doorstep eleven years ago. Everything had been about him since then. Albus had delivered him personally to Petunia, knocking on the door in the middle of the night. She had been up; carefully taking down the Halloween decorations - really, was there anything tackier than decorations left up past the celebratory date? - and had answered the door before the knocking had grown too disruptive.

She had been sad to hear about her sister, of course, and felt sorry for the tiny baby with Lily's big green eyes. She had been jealous of her sister, yes, but she hadn't wished her dead. She wasn't a monster. At least not back then. Before he even broached the subject, she understood that he wanted her to take the child and she had been prepared to agree. Vernon would agree, she assured Albus, given that there was enough compensation to cover the boy's expenses. And they couldn't tell him about the magic, naturally. Yes, they had the spare bedroom that was currently used as a home office - that no one ever put to use - and she could set up a crib in there quickly enough. She might have to drop some of her community activities to care for two children, but that was all right.

She hadn't been entirely prepared for what Albus had told her next.

She wasn't to be kind to the boy and she wasn't to treat him as her own. We need a warrior, he explained to a confused Petunia, Voldemort isn't gone forever and what we need is a machine able to withstand the realities of war. Petunia hadn't been sure she understood. She knew nothing about war and nothing about soldiers. She knew about little boys and babies and husbands and cooking. Albus had assured her that it would only be until he was eleven. Then . . . alternative arrangements would be made.

Albus had given her some basic instructions before he left. Let the boy self-soothe, don't pick him up overly much, and don't call him by his given name. Too easy to form an attachment that way, he explained. It might stress individuality overmuch to the boy. When he was preparing to leave, he had turned to her with a sad smile and said, "Petunia, I understand you might think this is cruel. But he'll grow up to save hundreds of thousands of lives. He'll never know what he's missing unless you dangle it in front of him."

And then he'd left her alone with her nephew and a multitude of explanations to give in the morning. She had done as he instructed. For the first few years of his life, she didn't call him anything, and when it became necessary she would only bark 'Potter' or 'Boy.' Vernon was less kind and would usually resort to name calling, especially after that first bout of accidental magic when further explanations had become necessary. Albus had written following this first incident which had been a harmless enough display in which her drooping plants which she had been cursing to herself had suddenly bloomed brilliantly to the delight of the toddler who had been following her shyly. She'd resisted the urge to smile at him and scoop him up like she did her Dudders. Instead she'd shooed him away and looked around nervously to make sure no one had noticed.

Albus had written that such displays could not be tolerated. Magical discipline was extremely important and he must learn to control it. Petunia had reluctantly expressed her 'concerns' to Vernon. What if the boy were to hurt one of them? She could see Vernon turning this over in his mind all day, growing more and more paranoid, and that night had been the first time he'd hit her nephew.

Albus wrote with suggestions weekly. Chores, he said, were character building and might help with physical prowess. She assigned a multitude of them, more than he could hope to get done in a day, and then sent him to bed without supper for not completing them. Albus had suggested that she use a reward system for everything including food. Very small and bland meals such as bread and water unless he pleased her. She would watch him carefully, willing him to do something she knew would please the old man but he usually didn't.

Around the age of five, Dudley had begun to pick up on his parents' attitude toward his cousin and mimicked it. He would push Harry down and call him names. Petunia had very nearly drawn the line. The next time she had seen Albus, she had told him about this newest development. Albus hadn't seemed particularly concerned. It was good for the boy to learn about adversaries.

Petunia had put her hands on her hips and nearly shouted, "Pray tell why my son has to be his adversary? He's five."

"Everyone must do their part. Things will run their course. You're almost halfway through. You've done a wonderful job, Petunia. Like your sister, you see the value of sacrifice."

"You're not hearing me," she said slowly, "I will not raise my son to be a bully."

Albus had waved her off, "It's normal for this age. He'll outgrow it soon enough."

Shortly after that, Albus had begun sending them a monthly stipend. A very generous one that made Vernon's eyes get slightly buggy and even made him a little more generous toward the boy. Petunia had received a letter not long after insisting personal possessions be kept to a bare minimum. It seemed the worse she treated the child, the more the monthly stipend grew. And it had gotten easier after a while to be cruel.

The reason why it had gotten easier disturbed her. She hated him. Heaven help her, she hated that little boy for what he had turned her house into. Vernon wasn't a violent man, he really wasn't, and she didn't practically force children into slave labor. They just weren't those kinds of people. Really they weren't.

She pulled a letter out of the drawer in the coffee table that she had received a week earlier and read it over:

Mrs. Dursley -

I plan to retrieve one Mr. Potter on July 31st at 1:00 PM sharp. Please have him prepared to leave. It will not be necessary for him to bring anything with him as his immediate needs will be provided for.

S. Snape

She traced that name with her finger and sighed. She remembered him and he supposed he would remember her. For the life of her, she couldn't understand how he planned on doing this for the next six years considering how infatuated he had been with her sister. He didn't know, though. Didn't know how disarming it could be when the boy suddenly looked up and it was Lily's eyes giving you that look as though you had just drowned her favorite puppy right in front of her. He would learn quickly enough, though.

There was only one thing left to do, of course; the 'grand finale' you could say that would take place in the morning. Albus wanted to make sure the boy had no mixed feelings about his time at the Dursleys. Petunia hated that she had gotten good at orchestrating the boy's misery, but she already knew what she would do. She hadn't even needed Albus to give her any ideas.

On her way to the stairs to finally go to bed, she paused at the cupboard. She very carefully unlatched the lock and opened the door, trying not to make a sound. It was very dark in there and the air smelled stale. She got on her knees and scooted into the small space, looking at the small figure lying on the bed, stomach down. Petunia moved to brush away a fringe of his hair and even in his sleep he instinctively moved away from her.

"Harry," she breathed, defiantly. What would Albus do to her? It was the last night and she wasn't really afraid. She felt free. Not her responsibility anymore. Things could go back to the way they had been before. She didn't even really remember what that meant.

His eyes flickered open, looking panicked for a moment, and then simply locking on her face. If this was extremely unusual, his face didn't give it away. His aunt behaved erratically. He had accepted this a long time ago. They gazed at each other silently. There was really nothing to say.