The immediate aftermath of Harry Potter’s departure from the Dursley family is very calm. It’s the middle of the night so Dudley, for whom the adrenaline had long since worn off, simply lumbers back onto the couch and falls asleep within a minute. Vernon, who is huffing and puffing with anger, storms around the house for ten minutes before eventually returning to bed.
Petunia, on the other hand, who is perhaps the most tired of them all, remains stubbornly awake, conflicting emotions surging through her. It feels as if she has forgotten something—something vitally important…
Finally, she falls asleep at three in the morning, exhausted.
The next morning, after they leave the Hut on the Rock and book a room at the local hotel, Petunia consumes some coffee. Now invigorated, her brain finally remembers what it should have a while ago. “Vernon!” she exclaims. “We just gave the boy to a”—what was the word again? Ah, yes—“Death Eater!”
Vernon, who hasn’t showered yet and never wakes up until after his shower, mumbles, “What?”
“Severus Snape is a Death Eater! My sister told me so!”
Vernon shrugs. “He eats death? So what? As long as he never comes back…”
“No, Vernon! Death Eaters were the followers of that man! You know, the one that killed my sister and her husband! And I basically handed the boy to him!” She puts her face in her hands and groans, “This is my fault. I couldn’t help taunting him. He was an awful boy and now he’s a nasty man.”
Vernon, dutiful husband that he is, soothes, “No, no, it was more my fault. I shouldn’t have given him an ultimatum…or pointed a gun at him…” He suddenly looks vaguely queasy. “God, did I doom us all? No one will know what we’ve done, will they?”
“They will!” Petunia despairs. “Wizards always do! We have to get him back, Vernon, or they’ll have our heads!”
“I don’t want him,” Vernon says gruffly.
“Then we need to make sure he at least gets somewhere safe! It’s our lives on the line! We need to make sure that Severus Snape doesn’t hand him to…oh, what was his name? Moldy-shorts? No, no, it was French…”
“Moldy-shorts?” asks Vernon. “Moldy-shorts and Severus Snape…these magical folks have such nonsensical names.”
“I’ve heard worse,” says Petunia. And then she brightens. “Oh! The Headmaster of that awful school had an awful name, too, but he was apparently very powerful! He’s the one who delivered Potter to us in the first place. His name was Dumble…door? Dumbledore! Alan Dumbledore! If we contact him and…and tell him that Snape kidnapped the boy, he’ll help without blaming us!” Petunia smiles, satisfied with herself. “Everything will be fine.”
“Good,” says Vernon. “We’ll do that the moment we get home.”
Dudley, who is still asleep, continues to snore away.
When they do return to No. 4 Privet Drive, they find that someone else had been there before them. They only know that because the cupboard door is wide open and all of the boy’s belongings are gone. Petunia stares with pursed lips. “Well,” she says, “that’s alarming.”
“He knows!” exclaims Vernon.
“What does it matter? Snape likely hates the boy. He won’t care. Come, help me write the letter to Dumbledore.”
The letter is soon written—appropriately pleading, shifting all of the blame onto Severus Snape—and then Petunia encounters a problem: she can’t send it through standard post.
“What about an owl?” Vernon demands. “They were the ones bringing the boy all his letters!”
“Do you see any owls here?” Petunia responds, gesturing to the neighborhood in general. And indeed, there is not a single owl in sight. It’s incredibly unfair, considering how their house had been swarming with them mere days earlier. Still… “Maybe we can use another bird,” says Petunia. Surely it would work on the same principle, right?
Unfortunately, none of the neighborhood birds seem especially enamored with the idea of carrying a letter to places unknown. Petunia glares petulantly at a flock of blue tits flee the moment she approaches. She has half a mind to give them chase but the neighbors have started peeking out of their homes to observe the spectacle of the upright Petunia Dursley chasing birds like a child. Incensed, she returns home and demands that Dudley do it instead.
Dudley stares at her blankly. “You want me to…chase birds.”
“Yes,” Petunia says. “Please, Diddey-kins. It’s important. It’s for the safety of our family.”
Dudley reluctantly agrees. Three hours later, he returns sweaty and covered in dirt, triumphantly parading around a terrified greenfinch. “I got one!” he says in delight. “This was fun. I should do it again.”
Petunia doesn’t reply, simply pressing a kiss to his forehead and then firmly grasping the greenfinch, which flaps its wings wildly in an attempt to get away. Petunia says to it, “I’ll let you go if you deliver this letter!”
The greenfinch doesn’t so much as glance at the letter and every time she tries to force it into the bird’s grasp, the legs kick away frantically. Besides, Petunia has found that it’s much too small to carry the letter, anyway. With frustration, she lets the foul fowl go, returning to Dudley yet again.
“Diddy-kins,” she says sweetly, “can you get me a bigger bird?”
Dudley smiles, looking almost manic. “Yes, Mum.”
Five hours later, as the sun sets, Dudley returns with a large raven. “Nearly scratched my eyes out,” says Dudley. Petunia is worried for a moment because something like that usually causes her son to burst into tears but right now, Dudley seems more delighted than anything.
She mentally shrugs and then takes the raven, which seems largely unbothered by the situation. She looks it in the eye and says, “Take this letter to Alan Dumbledore.”
The raven just looks at her and—well, ravens aren’t exactly expressive but she can just tell that it’s looking at her like she’s stupid. Flushing, she repeats her command several times, once again trying to shove the letter at the thing, but the raven just lets out a haughty squawk and eventually departing through an open window.
Vernon says, “I don’t think this is going to work, Pet.”
“I know,” Petunia groans, “but I had to try.” She stares morosely into the distance. “If we can’t send Dumbledore a letter…I suppose…we could just go to him in person?”
Vernon stares. “Do you know where he lives?” he asks thoughtfully.
“I think he lives at the school,” says Petunia. “And I know the school is in Scotland…”
Silence rings between them. Dudley, looking up from the TV, asks, “What’s going on?”
Petunia smiles weakly. “Nothing, Diddy-kins—but I think it might be prudent for us to go on holiday to the Scottish Highlands…”
Author's Chapter Notes:
In which Petunia Dursley is not as awful as she could have been.
Chapter 3
To be continued...
Chapter End Notes:
Okay, so! This fic is now caught up to the versions on AO3 and FFN. I don't know when the next chapter will be written but I hope you enjoyed this anyway!