“Ask your question, Harry,” Petunia said, her voice unreadable to the younger boy. As soon as the letters had come in and Harry had counted, he had questions. Questions he didn’t want to know the answers to.
Why am I the only one who got the Hogwarts letter? What even is Hogwarts?
Those were the thoughts that plagued Harry, and he had already gathered that there was no way that he and Dudley were both their mother’s children. He could count to nine, after all.
“I don’t want to.” Harry sniped, raw and worried.
“Ask.” His mother commanded.
“Mom, why has Harry gotten an extra letter?” Petunia shot Dud a look, and Ursula had long since left the room once the owls had appeared. So there was no one to measure her personality.
“Harry.” Petunia turned back the black-haired boy, a faded lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
It was nearly gone, and Petunia had always known this day would come. Just because she didn’t like it doesn’t mean she would hold Harry back if he wanted to go back to his home.
“Why have I got an eleventh letter?” Harry said, tears prickling in his eyes, “And why don’t you look surprised? And why didn’t Dud get one? And–and–and which one of us is yours?”
Petunia heaved a great sigh and got up. What was she doing in this time of turmoil for both her sons? Where Dud was looking at her, stricken? Well, she was getting a drink, of course.
“Perhaps I’ve put it off too long,” Petunia mused as she kept pouring vodka into her glass. Eventually, she added a dash of lemonade. Petunia slammed the glass down at the table and retook her seat at the head.
“Harry, darling,” she started, meeting his tear-filled green gaze, “Let me start with the hardest thing to hear. You are mine. But… you aren’t mine. Sweetie, you were born to a different witch.”
“Who?” He choked out. Immediately, Dudley was towering behind Harry, as if to protect him from the truth.
“My sister, Lily.” Petunia was filled with grief all over, “But she and your father passed away when you were young —so young. And you were brought to me. And I had Dudley.”
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“So—” Tears streaked Harry’s face. “Does that mean we’re still family?”
Petunia reached out for Harry’s hand, taking it in her own gently. More gently than anyone would have said she was capable of.
“Harry, love, we’ll always be family. You and Dud are mine. And don’t you forget it.”
“Mom,” Harry gasped, then ran around the edge of the table, gripping Petunia with all the force a fresh eleven-year-old could muster.
“Harry,” Petunia ran her hand through her son’s hair, then gestured for Dud, who was staring at the scene oddly, to join. He didn’t even hesitate. Then there were two boys wrapping Petunia in hugs.
Minutes passed, and Harry and Dudley were both crying at different points, saying they’d always be brothers. Eventually, Petunia unwrapped herself and put a hand on each boy’s shoulder.
“Now, there are some other things I must explain to you boys.” She said it seriously, with gravitas, “I’ll make it clear, here and now. You both will be going to Hecate’s.”
As if a weight had been lifted from Harry’s shoulders, he straightened up, nodding seriously.
“The reason you’ve been invited to attend Hogwarts, Harry, is because you were born in England. West Country, to be specific, but that would mean little to you. And there is a school in the Scottish highlands —that’s Hogwarts. But it’s terribly dangerous and, oh, so far away.”
“Mom–” Dud began, only for Petunia to silence him with a soft look.
“Give me another minute, Dud.” Petunia took a deep breath, looking at both her boys.
They were just so young.
“The reason it’s dangerous is because of the man who killed your biological parents, Harry.”
Petunia said it casually, but it took everything in her to do so.
“Killed?” Harry said, another stricken look crossing his face.
“Yes,” Petunia nodded, “Your parents were a part of a war effort, a valiant effort, to protect their people. The man who killed them is named Tom, Tom Riddle. He also goes by the name Voldemort –but we call people by their names, so we’ll only ever refer to him as Tom Riddle. He is who they were fighting against.”
“Is–is he–” Harry stuttered.
“No. He’s not a danger to you, not right now. Not ever, if I can help it. He is just a man, Harry. No more, no less. And what do I do to men who cross me?” Petunia smiled.
“You eat them?” Harry said without hesitation, and Petunia felt her cheeks go pink.
“Harry, I told you —man-eater is a joke. And Lyla shouldn’t have said it.” Petunia huffed, “You know what I was getting at.”
Both Harry and Dudley had mischievous grins and Petunia knew the kids would be all right, despite the fear, so she continued.
“Anyway, should this man come to you, should he threaten your safety, I will be there. And he will not get through me –and Lloyd, and Lyla, and Prim. Are we clear?”
“We’re clear, mom,” Harry said quietly, then peered at the Hogwarts letter, “How do we send a rejection?”
“Oh,” Petunia smiled malevolently, “You just leave that to me.”