Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, his friends, or his enemies.
A/N: I thought I'd point out that this is an AU. In other words, no spoilers for the books, especially not number seven.
Sweet Revenge
Petunia Dursley had just sat down to drink a cup of tea when the doorbell rang. Muttering angrily under her breath about inconsiderate people, she nevertheless got up and went to answer the door.
A well-dressed man who looked to be in his late thirties stood on the other side of the door, and Petunia gave him a condescending look. At least it was someone who knew how to dress himself. Still, that did not give him the right to come and disturb her like this.
"Whatever you are selling, I'm not interested," she said, looking down her nose. Not waiting to hear his comment to that, Petunia began to close the door.
The stranger chuckled and reached out a hand to stop her from slamming the door in his face.
"How dare you!" Petunia hissed. "Leave this instance, or I'm calling the police!"
The stranger shook his head and just looked at her. His unnaturally green eyes seemed to bore into her, and Petunia was unable to suppress a shudder. Who was this? Somehow he seemed eerily familiar. "No!" she gasped, as a breeze swept by and lifted the stranger's hair, revealing an all too familiar scar. Then she gathered herself and sneered, "You are not welcome here. Begone! If you are looking for money, you are looking in vain!"
"Really now, Aunt Petunia," Harry said mockingly. "If I wanted money, all I had to do was visit the bank. I have several vaults worth of gold, so there is no need coming to see you."
Petunia bristled at the mocking tones in her nephew's voice. "What is it you want then? Just say whatever it is you wish to say so you can be on your way."
"Do you really want to talk about it out here?" Harry asked mildly, causing Petunia to bristle again, and look like she had unexpectedly bitten into a sour lemon. "Oh, very well. You better come in. But no funny business!"
Harry burst out laughing. "Man, that was like hearing Uncle Vernon again. I'd actually forgotten that he used to hiss that at me every time he wanted to make a point."
"If you've come here to mock me than you can just leave!" Petunia snarled, rounding on her nephew.
Harry's laugh tapered off and he gave his aunt a look that was a mixture of suppressed anger, pity, and sadness. "No, I haven't come here to mock you," Harry said calmly. "I have, however, come to show you something."
"As if I want to see whatever it is you want to show me," Petunia said snottily.
Harry's face grew stern. "Sit down, Aunt Petunia. You know, if you had bothered to love someone other than yourself, you could have had a happy life. But no, you couldn't be arsed to care for anyone but yourself!"
Petunia flew out of her chair, incensed. "How dare you!" she shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the freak. "I loved my husband and son! It is thanks to you that everything went wrong! You. Ruined. My. Life."
Harry sneered. "No, you and your husband managed that just fine on your own."
"Get. Out," Petunia ground out through gritted teeth, pointing imperiously at the front door.
"No," Harry said calmly, folding his arms across his chest. "You refused to listen while I was a child, and I was powerless to make you. But guess what, Aunt Petunia? I'm all grown up now, and this time you will listen. So sit down, shut up, and you might learn something, though I must say I very much doubt it." Harry added the last under his breath, but Petunia still heard him and she bristled with indignation. Still, she sat down, eyeing him nervously. Who knew what freaks like him were capable of?
Harry saw the fearful look and he snorted. But if that was what it took for his aunt to listen to him, then so be it. He was doing this mostly for himself, and he would not leave until he had had his say.
"When I grew up, do you know what the one thing was that I wanted the most?" Harry asked, while pacing around the small living room. His aunt had sold the house at Privet Drive some fifteen years ago and had moved into this building complex. Not a place that Harry would ever feel comfortable living, but he couldn't deny that it was very... Muggle. Probably why Petunia had chosen it in the first place.
"As if your freakish desires ever mattered to me," Petunia replied haughtily. She might have to listen to the damned freak, but she was not going to listen to him.
Harry paused in his pacing and turned to look at the woman who had raised him. "A family. All I wanted was a family," he said softly, feeling sad when all Petunia did was make a face of distaste.
Shaking his head, Harry straightened his back. Those days were over. He had his family now, and he was happy. However, he was not about to extract a little bit of revenge on the woman who had wronged him all those years ago. Taking a deep breath, he went on with his speech.
"But, like I said, you couldn't be arsed to care for anyone but yourself. You took me in, knowing fully well about the protections you received doing so. And still you treated me like dirt.
"You know, you could have had everything, Aunt Petunia. Everything, and yet, thanks to your jealousy and spite, you ended up with nothing. You had a sister who loved you, and who idolised you. And just because she could do magic and you couldn't, you began to hate her, calling her a freak. I am amazed that Lily stood by you for as long as she did," Harry said, shaking his head in wonderment at the woman who was his mother.
"What would you know," Petunia asked nastily. "Lily died while you were a mere baby."
"Yes, she did. But her journals survived," Harry said, taking secret delight in the way that his aunt's face suddenly grew pale.
"You are lying!"
"No, I'm not. I didn't receive them until I was eighteen, but I did get them. She bent over backward to help you. She was the one who bought the house at Privet Drive. She set up a trust fund for Dudley, making sure that his future was secure. Hell, she even helped Uncle Vernon get his position at Grunnings, for Merlin's sake! And all you ever gave her back was spite. Hell, you weren't even decent enough to treat me fairly when I was placed with you!" Harry shouted, rounding on Petunia.
"Psh! I never asked her to do any of that," Petunia said, putting her nose in the air.
Harry laughed, and it was not a happy sound. "Perhaps not, but you did nothing to decline her offers, did you? I suppose I should be happy that you didn't care enough to try and raise me properly. I would hate to end up a bitter old crone the way you did.
"But it wasn't to talk about Lily that I came here today," Harry said, calming himself down forcibly. He was not going to blow something up due to anger, no matter how well justified that anger was.
"Good. Are you about to leave yet?" Petunia asked, pouring herself some of the now-cold tea.
Harry waved a hand causally and reheated it for her, smirking at the startled scream coming from his aunt.
"No, not yet. As I was saying, all I ever wanted was a family. So, after I had graduated - shocking everyone by not only ending the war, but surviving that end - I took a long look around, asking myself what I was to do now. None of those I though I could trust had counted on me surviving, you see, and they were all rather put out that they couldn't get their hands on my fortune.
"So, I left Hogwarts and set out to build my own life; to create my own family. There was only one little problem, I didn't have anyone to build a family with. There was no one I was in love with, so there was no one for me to have children with."
"Poor little freak, all alone in the world," Petunia said mockingly.
Harry ignored her with ease. "My parents were dead, so there was no hope of getting any siblings. It was then I remembered you, Aunt Petunia. I was not about to claim Dudley as family, or hope for him to ever reproduce. Which was fortunate I suppose, as he was in jail by that time. I always knew he would one day get into more trouble than you and Uncle Vernon could handle."
Petunia shot him a nasty look, but Harry had no troubles ignoring that either. Besides, her looks were nothing compared to Snape's death glares.
"There was, however, you, Aunt Petunia. Just because you couldn't raise a child properly, didn't mean that I couldn't."
"Are you trying to tell me that you got me pregnant and stole that child?" Petunia asked with a scoff.
"Not at all. However," Harry went on as Petunia began to relax. "I did create a blood clone of you and I did make that clone pregnant."
"You did what?!" Petunia shrieked, feeling cold fingers dance up and down her spine at the smug look on the freak's face. She had a nasty feeling that he was telling the truth.
"Magic truly is a wondrous thing," Harry said, bouncing slightly, a pleased look on his face. "With just a few drops of your blood, I was capable of creating a clone of you. It wasn't pleasant, having to look at your sour face everyday for seven months, but the end result was worth it.
"You see, just because I am very powerful I was able to sustain the clone, and the baby growing inside, it for the necessary seven months. With the help of Potions, I was also able to ensure that the baby got everything it needed. I created that first clone on my birthday in 1998, and on the 28th of February the following year Amanda Rose Evans was born. I hope you don't mind that I used your maiden name since I can't say that I have any pleasant associations with the name Dursley," Harry said nonchalantly, pulling out a small book the size of a deck of cards, ignoring the indignant blustering coming from his aunt.
"Would you like to see her? You might recognise her from the news," Harry said, resizing the photo album and opening it to the first page. A beautiful, young woman met their eyes. Her pale blond hair was flying in the wind, and her green eyes were dancing with happiness. She was smiling a bright smile, showing off a set of sparkling white teeth. Standing next to her was a beautiful black mare, her ears pointed forward, looking at something - or was that someone? - standing slightly to the left of the photographer.
Petunia blinked, she did indeed recognise the woman. And she had seen her several times on the news over the years. Vernon had even commented a few times, asking if it was a relative due to the likeness to Petunia when she was young.
"Amanda has made quite a name for herself as a show jumper," Harry commented, the pride he was feeling very evident in both his voice and on his face. "That there is her horse Gisborough's Midnight Shadow; they won a god medal in the Olympics a few years back. Midnight was born and raised on her husband's stud farm; you might have heard of it? Gisborough's Stud farm?"
Petunia paled. "Are you telling me that freaks run that place?!" she all but screamed. She had indeed heard of that place. She had even owned a horse bred on that farm when she was a teenager. It had been a gift from her father, and she had loved it dearly. However, the horse had been sold shortly after she married Vernon since it took too much time away from her family.
Harry snorted. "If you are asking if the Gisborough family are wizards, then yes, they are. However, they are not tampering with their horses. They produce good quality show jumpers because they are good at what they do, not because they cheat," Harry said firmly.
"Wait a minute, Amanda is married to on of the Gisboroughs?"
"Yep. Miles, her husband, is three years older than she is. They met in France where they attended the same school."
"She went to France? Why didn't she attend Hogwarts? I thought she was a freak like you," Petunia said with a sneer, but deep in her heart a hope was born that this beautiful young girl might be normal like her.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Auntie," Harry said insincerely, "but Amanda is very much a witch. She went to a magical school in France since they gave her the opportunity to continue with her horse riding. Once she graduated, Amanda started to compete seriously, and that is when she and Miles met up again. They had a horse for sale, and we went to look at it. Unfortunately, the mare wasn't what Amada wanted, but she and Miles kept in touch, and as Amanda's success grew, Mile's parents asked her if she would be interested in working for them as one of their riders. The rest as they say, is history."
Harry turned a page in the photo album and Petunia was faced with a wedding photo.
"Amanda and Miles were married eighteen years ago, and they have five children together." Harry turned to the next page and to a large group photo. Petunia recognised both Amanda and Miles and she assumed correctly that these were their children.
"Michael is thirteen and a rascal," Harry said with a chuckle, pointing at one of the children. He was blond with green eyes, just like his mother. "And he has already proven himself to be an excellent rider. Then there is Murphy, he is ten," Harry said, pointing to a boy with reddish brown hair and green eyes. "He isn't that interested in riding, but he loves horses. We are all certain that he will take over after his father as a breeder. He is already proving that he has a good eye for horseflesh. Then there is Maureen - she is seven - Maria, who is four, and Morgan who is one years old."
Petunia looked at the younger children, noting that the youngest resembled her own Dudley quite a bit what with their blond hair and blue eyes, and she found herself blinking back tears. Ever since Dudley had died of a heart attack, brought on by his severe overweight, Petunia had resigned herself to not becoming a grandmother. And here her freak of a nephew was showing her that she not only had children, but grandchildren as well.
Harry turned the page, acting as if he hadn't noticed his aunt's brimming emotions. "Then there is Ryanne," he said, pointing to a beautiful young woman with golden blond hair and deep blue eyes. "She is born the same year as Amanda, and she too loves animals; only she focuses on birds of pray. I suppose I can blame Hedwig for that. You remember her, don't you, Aunt Petunia? My owl? The one Uncle Vernon was always shouting about causing too much a racket?
"Hedwig was starting to get on in years, so I got her a mate. I no longer had anyone I wanted to correspond with regularly, and since I was building myself a family I figured it was only fair that she got the chance to do so too. After all, we had shared everything else, why not parenthood as well?" Harry chuckled dryly as he recalled the happiness Hedwig had displayed at the chance of getting a mate.
"Ryanne was forever out in the forest near our home, and she became good friends with all the animals residing there. As she got older, she got a certificate as an animal Healer, and set up a practice. She also started a home for injured wild animals, and we have all lost count of all the animals she has nursed back to health. She has an amazing talent." Harry shook his head, his heart almost bursting with pride in his daughter.
Turning a page, a wedding photo appeared. "Since Ryanne needed a vast amount of good quality potions for her practice, she went to a lot of trouble to find a Potions master that met her standards. It took her a couple of years, but eventually she found one she could trust in Lucretia Borge. She is Italian as you might have guessed," Harry said wryly. "And, yes, she is indeed a distant relative," he added, his lips twitching with amusement. "The two struck up a friendship, and later they fell in love. They bonded, erh, I mean, they got married fifteen years ago." Harry said, looking at the second bride with fondness.
Petunia stared down at the photo, a small frown on her face. She wasn't exactly happy that there were two brides and no groom. She also didn't like that her daughter was marrying a foreigner, but she had to admit that Lucretia was a beauty with black hair cascading down her back, pale skin and onyx coloured eyes.
"The two only have two children as of yet; Carlita, who is twelve, and Bonita who is two. Carlita is attending Durmstrang, a magical school in northern Europe," Harry said, showing the photos of two charming girls. Carlita had black hair and stunning green eyes, eerily similar to Harry when he was a child, only her hair was long and curly, while Bonita was blond with stunning black eyes.
Petunia could have spent the entire evening just looking at the cute little girls, but Harry continued to speak, turning the page yet again. "Then there is Keelan, she is thirty-seven, and a skilled Charms mistress. She attended Hogwarts, and from what her teachers have told me, she is very much like mum was. Bright, vicarious, witty, reading anything she can get her hands on, and just like Lily, she is very kind towards others, especially the underdogs."
A girl with hair the colour of red gold looked back at them, a smile playing on her red lips, and her green eyes were dancing with laughter.
"She was sorted into Ravenclaw and ended up as year mate with Draco Malfoy's second son, Marcus. They became friends in their first year, and fell in love in their fifth. They got married right after school."
Harry turned the page to the marriage photo. The groom was handsome, with his white-blond hair gathered back in an elegant ponytail tied low at his nape. His silver-blue eyes were alight with happiness as they rested on his bride.
"Marcus is quite nice, for a Malfoy," Harry mused, regarding the photo thoughtfully for a moment. Then he shook his head and turned the page. "They have quite a few children. You know, I'm glad the Purebloods are finally relenting on their stupid once-child only policy," Harry said musingly, more to himself than his aunt. "Anyway, first there is Alexander, he is seventeen. He is attending Hogwarts and this will be his final year. If he has his way, he will become Master at both Potions and Charms; following his parents' footsteps."
Alexander smiled brightly at them from the photo; the spitting image of his father.
"Then there is Victoria, she is fifteen and dead set on becoming a professional jockey. Both her father and grandfather all but had a coronary when she made that announcement this past Christmas. Amanda, of course, is thrilled, although she is disappointed that Victoria isn't interested in show jumping like her," Harry said with an amused chuckle.
"Ophelia is ten and she is passionate about dogs and Potions. Caesar is seven and he is crazy about flying, just like his grandfather." Harry let lose with another amused chuckle as he remembered the boy's latest scrape. "Octavius is five, Anthony is two, and their latest should be born in the first week of December.
Petunia regarded the children carefully, noting that the girls tended to favour their mother, while the boys favoured their father. The only exception was Octavius, who had his mother's green eyes.
"Then there is Amena, also thirty-seven" Harry said, showing his aunt a photo of a beautiful, ash blond woman with pale blue eyes. "She is a Potions mistress, and the only one not married. She was engaged to be married to a charming young man. Unfortunately, he was killed in an accident, and she hasn't found anyone else as of yet." Harry's eyes darkened momentarily as he remembered those dark days. Shaking his head, he did his best to dispel the sombre mood that had come over him.
"Carlin - who is thirty-four - is a dear, and I don't think I have ever met anyone with a more cheerful outlook on life. She is always claiming that there is a silver lining to every storm cloud," Harry said, turning to a photo of a woman with the hair colour of ripe wheat and pale jade green eyes. "She is a Defence Against the Dark Arts mistress, and she is currently teaching Defence at Hogwarts. From what I have heard, the kids all love her.
"She fell in love with and married one of the son's of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. You might remember them? They were two of my best friends at one time. We grew apart I suppose you could say, but Jeremy is a good boy. He is working as the flying instructor at Hogwarts, and they are very happy together." Harry smiled a little wistfully. It was true that he and Jeremy had a good report. Unfortunately, his parents were not happy with their son's choice of spouse, and they had all but cut ties with their own flesh and blood because he chose to follow his heart and not his parents' demands that he should not have anything to do with the 'unstable and down right evil Harry Potter'.
"They too have several children; first there is Hannibal, he is eight." The boy in question had bright red hair and the bluest of eyes. "Then there is Hedwig, she is five." The girl had just as red hair as her brother did, but she had her mother's green eyes. "Norbert and Trevor are twins, and they are three, and then there is Molly, who is three months old," Harry said, determined to get past this stumble block as well.
Petunia noted that the last three children were also redheads with various shades of blue eyes. She couldn't help but start beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed, just how many children and grandchildren did she have?! Harry blithely went on with his presentation.
"Rhonda is also thirty-four, same as Carlin. She is a professional Quidditch player, which is a magical sport that everyone in my world is more or less involved in. And in case you are wondering, she is playing for the Pride of Portree, not that I expect that you have heard of them. She is a Keeper, a goalie, and she is doing a damned good job of it. She is married to Olivia Wood, Oliver Wood's oldest daughter. He was the one who taught me about Quidditch. Man, he was some Keeper. It is ironic I suppose that his daughter is the Seeker for Pride of Portree." Harry fell silent for a moment as he pondered his old schoolmate and his daughter.
Petunia took the opportunity to silently pursue the photo of a happily smiling honey blond girl with hazel eyes.
"The two of them tied the knot a year after they graduated from Hogwarts, and they are blissfully happy. None of them have children yet, but I have a feeling that the moment one of them retire from the Professional game, it won't be long before you can hear the pitter patter of small feet.
"Keeley on the other hand..." Harry shook his head as he trailed off, contemplating the photo of a strawberry blond girl with hazel eyes. He wouldn't have thought it possible that siblings could be so completely different and yet so very much alike. Even though he knew that his mother and aunt was as different as night and day
"Keeley is thirty years old, and all she ever wanted was to fall in love and have a score of children. She found her perfect match in Neville Longbottom's only son Franklin. They were year mates at Hogwarts and they got married right after graduation.
"Their oldest boy is Keegan, and he was eleven in April. He will begin Hogwarts this fall, and I don't think I've ever seen anyone keener than him to start school," Harry said with a tender smile as he tapped the photo of a smiling brunet with warm hazel eyes who was waving merrily.
"Next is Harrison, and he is nine," Harry said with a slight blush. No matter how much time passed, he still felt both thrilled and embarrassed to know that the red-haired boy with stunning blue eyes was named after him.
"Jade is seven, and Amber is five. Looking at them you could think they were twins. They sure act as if they were," Harry said with a wry chuckle. Secretly he thought the girls adored their uncles Gred and Forge a little too much. It didn't help that they both had red hair in a shade only three grades darker than the Weasley twins.
"Alice is three and the next one should be born in the last week of August."
"Then finally there is Catriona, she is thirty years old, just as Keeley, and I suppose she is the one who resembles you the most, Aunt Petunia," Harry said neutrally, looking down at the photo of the dark blond girl with pale blue eyes. Where the others had been smiling, this one just glared at the camera, obviously not happy with being captured on photo.
"She got married at twenty-five to Marcel Crabbe, and they have one child, a son named Eric. He is two," Harry said, wondering yet again where he had gone wrong with the girl. She had never shown any interest in anything. In many ways she reminded Harry about Ron, demanding to be given whatever she wanted, but not prepared to work to achieve her goals. And she had developed the nasty habit of throwing a tantrum whenever she didn't get what she felt was her due. Much like Dudley had done.
Harry had tried being firm, he had tried reasoning with the girl, he had tried devoting more time to her, thinking that maybe she was feeling left out being the youngest. But no matter what he did, Catriona refused to behave, continuing to act out at every chance she got. Not even Harry's husband had managed to reach her, and he was used to spoilt brats and troublemakers.
Perhaps there were something in the genes that explained Petunia's and Catriona's poor behaviour, but Harry had a feeling that deep down it was more due to laziness, rebellion, and taking an inordinate delight in being spiteful than anything else. Harry was only thankful that Catriona had been born last and not first, or he would never have managed to create the family that he craved so much.
Petunia slowly came out of her stupor. "Just how many children have you stolen from me?!" she asked incredulous.
Harry snorted. "'Stolen' that is rich. I did what I had to do to get a family. You could have been a part of this; you could have been part of my family, but instead you drove us all away. I hope you are happy now, Aunt Petunia. Is the loneliness worth it?"
"How dare you, you miserable freak!" Petunia shouted, shooting to her feet. For an old woman of eighty-five she was surprisingly spry. "You stole my children! You stole my children from me through your freakish magic and you dare claim that it was I that drove you away? How could I?! I didn't even know the girls existed!"
Harry watched her warily, wanting to be prepared in case she began throwing things at him. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd done something like that. "I have never hidden from the girls who they are. The year they turned eleven I told them everything. I told them all about the Boy Who Lived, and I told them about you," Harry said quietly.
"When Amanda and Ryanne turned eighteen they wanted to connect with you, and I did nothing to stop them. On the contrary, I even helped them get here. Do you remember, Aunt Petunia? An early day in July twenty-one years ago? Two young girls came to see you, telling you their name was Evans and that you were related?"
Petunia paled. As a matter of fact, she did remember. Like today, she had opened the door thinking it was someone wanting to sell something. She had eyed the girls with mistrust, and when they presented themselves, claiming kinship she had naturally been floored.
"You asked them who had sent them to you, and the girls said..."
"Harry Potter," Petunia whispered, pressing her fingers to her temples.
Harry snorted. "That was enough for you to flip out completely. You screamed at them that you didn't know anyone by the name of Harry Potter, and if they ever came anywhere near you and your husband you would have them thrown in jail for trespassing. Then you threw the door closed in their faces. Yeah, Aunt Petunia, you really did a stellar impression on your daughters, let me tell you.
"Still, Keeley wanted to make an attempt as well, reasoning that you had mellowed with age. I guess you proved her wrong. You wouldn't even allow her to get out more than her name before you threatened her life and closed the door in her face. I can guarantee that none of the other girls wished to make anymore attempts to get in touch with you after that."
"And yet here you are," Petunia said, giving Harry a cold look.
"Yep, and here I am," Harry said cheerfully. "You see, Aunt Petunia, I know for a fact that you are a Squib. Ah, I can see that you know what that word means, good, then I won't have to explain it to you. As such, you are going to live a long, long time yet. It wouldn't surprise me if you didn't live to be a hundred and twenty.
"I want you to know, as you live your life in loneliness and bitterness, that you could have had it all. If you had bothered to be firm with Dudley, if you had demanded that he exert himself in school, then he could have had a long, long life. And if you had bothered to keep you husband under some kind of control, preventing him from eating all that fatty food, then he too could have lived a long, long life here with you, instead of keeling over in a heart attack while heaping abuse at that policeman for having the nerve to pull him over for speeding. Yeah, I know what happened to you and your family, Aunt Petunia, I have learned that the old adage 'keep your enemies close' is an advice well worth following."
Harry walked over to stand next to his aunt, and he leaned forward to whisper softly, "And if you had bothered to look past the end of your nose; if you had bothered to open your heart just a tiny little bit, then you could have been a part of your daughters' and your grandchildren's lives. Instead it will be I, the 'freak' who reaps all the rewards since I did bother to open my heart to embrace others than myself."
Taking a step back, Harry straightened his jacket. "Well, I guess I have taken up long enough of your time, Aunt Petunia. You may keep the photo album if you wish, along with this scrap book." Harry reached into a pocket and pulled out the item in question, resizing it before placing it gently next to the tea tray. "Have a good life, Aunt Petunia. And don't worry, I will never again darken your doorstep."
Harry walked over to the door and opened it. Turning around, he cast one last glance back, why he wasn't entirely sure. But the hatred he could see in Petunia's eyes told him that there would never be any reconciliations between the two of them. Shrugging his shoulders lightly, Harry walked out and closed the door.
Finding a secluded corner was not difficult and the young wizard Apparated home to the waiting arms of his husband.
"How did it go?"
"Better than I thought. But she still hates my guts," Harry said a tad forlornly.
"Her loss, love, her loss." Swooping down, he captured Harry's lips in a gentle yet searing kiss, and Harry soon forgot everything about Petunia Dursley.
oOo
Petunia sat frozen in place. Only when the door fell close was she able to move again. Trembling violently, she sank back into her chair. Taking several deep breaths, Petunia turned back to the photo album. Closing it gently, she opened it again at the first page. For a long time she just sat there, drinking in the face of her oldest daughter. Slowly she reached out and touched the cold surface, regretting deeply the day she had slammed the door in her face. But how was she to know? She had thought the freak had sent his daughter, or worse, his girlfriend to try and smooch his way into her good grace. As if that would ever happen!
Eventually, Petunia turned the page and started slightly as she was not met with the wedding photo but a series of photos from when Amanda was a toddler. With trembling hands, she turned page after page, witnessing through the pictures the lives of her children.
When she finally came to the last page, Petunia was too weary to be surprised as she came face to face with a note.
Dear Aunt Petunia,
What I told you were the truth. If you only had bothered
to open your heart to a lonely little boy, this could all have
been yours.
Instead you scorned and belittled him, even going as far
as abusing him, both emotionally and physically. Fortunately
I am not of the same stock as you. None of my children grew
up sleeping in a cupboard. None of my children knew what it
was like going to bed feeling hunger. None of my children
ever lacked hugs and kisses. None of my children grew
afraid of asking questions. None of my children grew up
afraid, period.
Ask yourself this, which of us is the bigger freak? Is it me because
I can do magic? Or is it you for treating me the way you did?
Harry Potter.
For the first time in her life, Petunia Dursley broke down and cried for the family she had lost. Her parents, husband, and son had all been claimed by untimely deaths, leaving her alone in the world. And she had resigned herself to her fate. And here came Potter and stirred things up again. She couldn't care less about the freak that was her nephew, but it hurt to know that thanks to him she had numerous grandchildren out there, and in time probably great grandchildren as well, and due to her own actions she would never even see them.
A/N: Hmm, as a reply to several of my reviewers, I'd like to say that no, Harry is not the father of the children. I totally agree that that would be… yech, shudder. No the girls are all Harry's cousins, not his daughters.
As for whom the husband is… I'm leaving that up to the reader. However, if you are thinking tall, dark, handsome, and snarky, then you are reading my mind, laugh.