Dear Petunia,

Harry is here! Magical delivery is a bit odd, I'm excited to tell you all about so you can be as confused as I am (what exactly is the boomslang skin for, I wonder?)! He's beautiful, a bit scrawny next to most babies, but you'll love him, I know it. I hope you'll let us bring him over soon, we'd all love to meet little Dudley. And I know we both want our boys to grow up the best of friends, like we were when we were young. Maybe starting out knowing that Harry will almost certainly be a wizard where Dudley will probably not — maybe that knowledge, at an early age, will be enough to keep them from the problems we had. If we'd known all along, maybe it would have been all right. I do hope they'll be the best of friends, and I'm sure they will.

Do you remember that day we went to the carnival, and I was absolutely terrified of the clowns? You took my hand, and you whispered in my ear that they smelled funny, and I laughed. It made everything better, and I wasn't afraid anymore. I wish you could do that now. I wish, very much, that you were here to tell me that everything would be all right, that you would lean over and whisper in my ear that the bad man smells funny, that you'd make me laugh until I wasn't afraid anymore.

I know you've no interest in the wizarding world, but events are happening that could affect Muggles, too, and I am so afraid for you and Vernon and Dudley. Please let us come see you. I'll help James dress properly, no one will think anything of it. I need to tell you, in person, what's been happening.

All my love, Lily

—-

Dear Petunia,

I understand — Dudley was such a strapping baby (he looks just like Vernon in the pictures!) your recovery must be taking a bit. You've always been so thin, I could hardly believe you managed it! You look radiant, though, and I'm so happy for you.

Once you're well enough for visitors, I do hope you'll let us come.

Harry threw up all over James yesterday, and I nearly wet myself laughing. Poor James is so reliant on magic that he completely failed at remembering how to burp the baby. I have, however, successfully trained him to change diapers, so there is always that!

Thank you for telling me about Severus's parents. They had such troubled lives, I feel so sad that they met that end. I can't tell Sev, because we aren't exactly friends anymore, but I do appreciate your telling me.

Dudley is lovely, like a little cherub in a painting, and I am so happy to get to meet him soon!

All my love,

Lily

—-

Dear Petunia,

All right. If you're so set on us never seeing you again, I can't stop you, I suppose.

There is an evil wizard named Voldemort. He wants to kill anyone who is Muggle-born, which means me, and anyone who is half-Muggle. He wants to subjugate all Muggles into slavery. That's you and Vernon and Dudley.

James and I are fighting against him, with hundreds of other brave witches and wizards. We are trying to stop him, but we've no guarantee. The only thing keeping him away from you is us, and I intend to die before I let him hurt a member of my family.

So when you threaten to never see me again, that threat is more immediate and real than you might think. If I die, I've no idea what will happen to Harry. There aren't any other witches and wizards who might be safe from Voldemort. You would be my choice, Tunie, because you are hidden and secret and no one knows about you here.

Please, please consider this my formal request: if something happens to James and me, if we die or disappear, I want you and Vernon to care for Harry. Raise him with Dudley, keep him safe and happy, and forgive me for all the things I've done to hurt you accidentally over the years.

All my love,

Lily

—-

Dear Petunia,

You never responded to my last letter — I hope everything's all right. If I don't hear from you this week I'm calling. If you don't answer, I'm sending old Mr. Woodson a nice letter by Muggle post asking him to check on you.

Please tell me you're all right.

All my love,

Lily

—-

Dear Petunia,

I cried for an hour after Mr. Woodson called me. Cried and cried, half because I was so happy you were alive and half because that means you got my letters and weren't responding. Tunie, please.

All my love,

Lily

—-

Dear Petunia,

I haven't the faintest idea why you won't respond to my letters.

That's not true, I'm sorry. I know why. I just can't believe it. I can't believe that you will never forgive me for something like that. A genetic quirk, and you'll refuse to speak to me, refuse to let me see you, refuse to forgive me.

It's not fair, and I can only imagine that this must be how you felt. But I cannot accept that you won't ever forgive me. I refuse — sound familiar? If you don't read these letters anyway, I might as well write the truth.

James is so scared, all the time now. He's trying to act brash and bold, act like nothing's wrong, but Harry can feel the tension. He's clingy to James, like he's saving up for something, and real Seers (fortune-tellers) are few and far-between but I can just see James dead, lying on the floor staring up at me, his face still and cold for the first time ever. I can see Harry screaming in a crib, no one coming to rescue him.

Refuse to forgive me if you must, but please, if something happens to us, please take care of Harry. He's my whole life, and I can't stand the thought of him being raised by strangers. You'll love him, I know it.

If you don't respond to this letter, I'll keep writing. What an odd threat to make, but there it is. I will, you watch me.

All my love,

Lily

—-

Dear Petunia,

Today I was thinking about when Mum and Dad died, and at the funeral you got in a screaming fight with—who was it? Francine, that horrid aunt, I remember now. She'd made such a scene, crying at the funeral like she'd ever cared about them. That's been in my head all day, you screaming at her, telling her she'd never loved them and not to pretend now.

You wouldn't speak to me there, not even at our parents' funeral. You sat next to me, though, with Vernon and James on our other sides, and you didn't hold my hand but you didn't scream at me either, and I felt almost hopeful that you'd forgive me soon. I'd hoped that the babies would help. Sometimes babies can heal a broken family: everyone loves them, and they're all beautiful, and they make us so happy, make us think about new beginnings. I'd hoped, but it didn't happen.

Harry has a cold, and he seems so miserable. The magical remedies work so well, Tunie, I'd send you some if I thought you'd use them. But you wouldn't, would you? You'd throw them out, curse me. Can't you see that I would have brought you with me if I could? You'd never listen when I tried to explain it, and I just. I suppose I gave up after a while.

I'm sorry for that. I should have tried harder. I was so intoxicated with possibilities that I probably wasn't a very good sister to you. And I'm so, so sorry for that, I really am. I saw Harry make a face yesterday that reminded me so much of you when you were young, and I cried again. I cry all the time now, when I'm not trying to make Harry laugh or keep James's spirits up.

He's so bad at this sequestering business, James is. He's always been so lively, you know, such a party animal, always out on the town. He's been stuck inside for weeks now, and I honestly think he's about to start dismantling every piece of furniture in the house just for something to do. He nearly smoked us out yesterday, trying to learn to make toast the Muggle way. I had to make a little sign that said "Rule #1: NO MAGIC IS TO BE USED ON MUGGLE APPLIANCES." I didn't even think until now where he got the toaster — I'd bet that Arthur Weasley dropped it off when he visited last week.

Arthur is such a dear, you'd love him. He's very interested in Muggles, you know, and his wife Molly is a fierce woman, but very kind. A bit like you, really: that strength and fire. They have two sons already, and Molly is expecting twin boys any day now! Can you imagine having four children at our age? Molly's a bit older, but not much, and she deals with it all so wonderfully. I can only hope James and I learn to be half the parents the Weasleys are to their boys.

We've read all our books, and ordered a few more from the bookshop here in town. I saw a beautiful old copy of Beedle the Bard (sort of the wizarding version of fairy tales), and I bought it. Sent it to you before I could stop myself. I know you won't keep it but it's so lovely, and the stories are just like any other fairy tales. They're not dangerous or wicked, Tunie, really they're not. Dudley would love them, especially "Grumble the Grubby Goat," which is Harry's favorite. It's a bit like Dr. Seuss, that tale. I do hope you'll give it a chance.

All my love,

Lily

—-

Dear Petunia,

Once upon a time there were two sisters, and one was born with a power she didn't know about. The other wasn't born with that power, but neither of them knew about the power anyway. They grew up the best of friends, but when the sister with the power learned how to use it, the other sister never forgave her. And they never spoke again.

If that was a fairy tale it'd be abysmal. The right ending is one where the sister who doesn't have the power eventually forgives, probably because the sister who does have the power fights and fights and does something amazing to prove that they are still sisters, after all, and blood is thicker than magic.

So tell me what the something amazing is I need to do to get the story right, and I will do it immediately. Anything you want, I promise.

All my love,

Lily

—-

Dear Petunia,

Harry has James's hair and my eyes, and I think he'll have your chin and cheekbones. Won't that be a sight? He'll be so striking — I've always envied your cheekbones.

All my love,

Lily

—-

Dear Petunia,

Harry is allergic to lavender, it seems: we had some soap with it in, and he broke out in hives. It's probably a baby allergy, nothing serious, but it's such an odd one, don't you think? Who ever heard of being allergic to lavender?

All my love,

Lily

—-

Dear Petunia,

Frank and Alice Longbottom have just left — we do so like them. Their son Neville laid on the mat with Harry and they hit it right off, laughing and poking each other like tiny old men, like the best of friends. He and Harry are a lot alike, you know: dark hair, small (although Neville's a bit cuddlier than Harry is, all knees and elbows), with parents who fight Voldemort. Their birthdays are even right around the same time.

I asked Alice (because we've all been thinking about it) what would happen to Neville if something happened to them. She said he'd go to Frank's mother, Augusta, a towering old bat to live in that cold house without an ounce of love to spare. I smiled and nodded, but inside I was shuddering at the thought.

All I can think is that Neville would grow up in that house with someone who doesn't really love him, and I cannot imagine a worse fate for a child. If Frank and Alice do — that is, if something happens to them, I hope that when he gets to leave he finds a place to belong. I think about him and I look at Harry and I hope against hope that Harry never knows a life without love.

All my love,

Lily

—-

Dear Petunia,

I've a terrible feeling about today.

Please call me.

All my love,

Lily