What if, when Petunia Dursley found a little boy on her front doorstep, she took him in? Not into the cupboard under the stairs, not into a twisted childhood of tarnished worth and neglect–what if she took him in?
Petunia was jealous, selfish and vicious. We will not pretend she wasn’t. She looked at that boy on her doorstep and thought about her Dudders, barely a month older than this boy. She looked at his eyes and her stomach turned over and over. (Severus Snape saved Harry’s life for his eyes. Let’s have Petunia save it despite them).
Let’s tell a story where Petunia Dursley found a baby boy on her doorstep and hated his eyes–she hated them. She took him in and fed him and changed him and got him his shots, and she hated his eyes up until the day she looked at the boy and saw her nephew, not her sister’s shadow. When Harry was two and Vernon Dursley bought Dudley a toy car and Harry a fast food meal with a toy with parts he could choke on Petunia packed her things and got a divorce.
Harry grew up small and skinny, with knobbly knees and the unruly hair he got from his father. He got cornered behind the dumpsters and in the restrooms, got blood on the jumpers Petunia had found, half-price, at the hand-me-down store. He was still chosen last for sports. But Dudley got blood on his sweaters, too, the ones Petunia had found at the hand-me-down store, half price, because that was all a single mother working two secretary jobs could afford for her two boys, even with Vernon’s grudging child support.
They beat Harry for being small and they laughed at Dudley for being big, and slow, and dumb. Students jeered at him and teachers called Dudley out in class, smirked over his backwards letters.
Harry helped him with his homework, snapped out razored wit in classrooms when bullies decided to make Dudley the butt of anything; Harry cornered Dudley in their tiny cramped kitchen and called him smart, and clever, and ‘better ‘n all those jerks anyway’ on the days Dudley believed it least.
Dudley walked Harry to school and back, to his advanced classes and past the dumpsters, and grinned, big and slow and not dumb at all, at anyone who tried to mess with them.
But was that how Petunia got the news? Her husband complained about owls and staring cats all day long and in the morning Petunia found a little tyke on her doorsep. This was how the wizarding world chose to give the awful news to Lily Potter’s big sister: a letter, tucked in beside a baby boy with her sister’s eyes.
There were no Potters left. Petunia was the one who had to arrange the funeral. She had them both buried in Godric’s Hollow. Lily had chosen her world and Petunia wouldn’t steal her from it, not even in death. The wizarding world had gotten her sister killed; they could stand in that cold little wizard town and mourn by the old stone.
(Petunia would curl up with a big mug of hot tea and a little bit of vodka, when her boys were safely asleep, and toast her sister’s vanished ghost. Her nephew called her ‘Tune’ not 'Tuney,’ and it only broke her heart some days.
Before Harry was even three, she would look at his green eyes tracking a flight of geese or blinking mischieviously back at her and she would not think 'you have your mother’s eyes.’
A wise old man had left a little boy on her doorstep with her sister’s eyes. Petunia raised a young man who had eyes of his very own).
Petunia snapped and burnt the eggs at breakfast. She worked too hard and knew all the neighbors’ worst secrets. Her bedtime stories didn’t quite teach the morals growing boys ought to learn: be suspicious, be wary; someone is probably out to get you. You owe no one your kindness. Knowledge is power and let no one know you have it. If you get can get away with it, then the rule is probably meant for breaking.
Harry grew up loved. Petunia still ran when the letters came. This was her nephew, and this world, this letter, these eyes, had killed her sister. When Hagrid came and knocked down the door of some poor roadside motel, Petunia stood in front of both her boys, shaking. When Hagrid offered Harry a squashed birthday cake with big, kind, clumsy hands, he reminded Harry more than anything of his cousin.
His aunt was still shaking but Harry, eleven years and eight minutes old, decided that any world that had people like his big cousin in it couldn’t be all bad. “I want to go,” Harry told his aunt and he promised to come home.
“What was she like?” My mother asked trying not to pry to much but always failing.
“Beautiful was she?” she said.
“Yes. Absolutely beautiful.”
“But I wouldn’t describe her as strictly beautiful. Cause well she more than beautiful. She was funny, smart, down to earth, rewarding, thoughtful and beautiful. She was every nice word in the dictionary. Admiring, charismatic, appealing and down right unforgettable once you knew her. Even if you didn’t know her she was unforgettable cause even if you talked to her for 5 minutes while waiting in line for coffee it felt like talking to an old friend. So yeah… she was beautiful or gorgeous. Whatever word you choose to your liking. But she was never just strictly beautiful.”
“So what do you call her then? What do you call her if she is every good thing that’s happened to you.” My mother asked.
“Extraordinary. She was extraordinary”
Love, heartbreak & everything in between.// Deeply feeling series
They’re in the middle of research when Human Jane stands to get some coffee. An addictive substance that nearly all Humans drink. That in and of itself confuses Xon’a, but he ignores it now. The Human Guide book had been very helpful in understanding the humans love for things that are bad for their health.
Only when he looks up, he freezes. On her bottom is a red stain.
He jerks into a standing position and knocks over his book. Human Jane turns around with surprise.
“H-Human Jane! You are bleeding!” She frowns and looks down at her arms. “No-no, your bottom! We need to get you to medical!”
Suddenly her cheeks turn very, very red. And then she laughs as Xon’a pushes a chair out of the way to get to her.
“No, I’ll be fine, I just need to go change. Sorry about that,” she puts the coffee down but Xon’a picks her up.
“You are dying, Human Jane, you need medical!” She lets out a squwak, and shakes her head.
“No no! I just have my period, all women get it! It’s totally normal for humans!” Xon’a puts human Jane down and stares at her with narrowed slits.
“…Normal? What is a Period? I thought it went at the end of your sentences?” She started to laugh, cheeks still blushing.
“Periods are our menstruation. We get it once a month. Our bodies prepare every month for a baby, but when theres no baby, the lining of our uterus sheds and the blood is pushed out of our bodies. I usually get mine for 7 days.” Xon’a stares in horror at his human friend.
“T-that is not normal. Y-your insides shed? Like molting?” Human Jane grins.
“Totally is, some women get cramps, other people it hurts a lot. For me I usually just get cramps on the last few days. But we use pads, tampons, and cups to hold the blood until it’s over. I just must have forgotten to change my pad this morning.”
Xon’a takes a step back and looks down at the chair, stained with a small puddle.
“That is a lot of your life blood. I think you are ill!” He says. Human Jane laughs again.
“That? That’s pretty light for the first day. Don’t worry, this is nothing! If only you saw childbirth!” He blinks again, his slitted eyes narrowing.
“Birth?” Human Jane blinks.
“You guys create your babies out of spores, right? Well, ours grow in our bellies. Then we push them out of our vaginas. Sometimes, we have to get cut open to get the baby taken out.” Xon’a lets out a horrified squall and jerks back.
“W-why do you continue? H-how are there so many of you?” Human vagina’s were small, and he’d seen a pink skinned baby before, and a brown one, but they were both so large! Both babies heads were incredibly large! How in the Gods names could they have squeezed a babe out of a small hole like that? And getting cut open? Human Illa had said childbirth was wonderful!
Human Jane shrugs. “My grandmother had eleven children. All natural. She said childbirth was beautiful. I think it’s more the whole, holding the baby afterwards that is beautiful. My mom only had two. When my brother and I did something stupid she’d say that she didn’t suffer through eight hours of childbirth to give birth to two dumbasses.”
Xan’a began to breath rapidly, and looked at human Jane.
“The rumors are true: Humans truly are terrifying creatures.”
Human Jane frowned and cocked her head. “I mean, it’s not that crazy. We’ve been doing it for hundreds of thousands of years.”
Xan’a sits and closes his slitted eyes and inhales deeply.
Now he understands why his father told him to befriend the humans, but never cross one. Who would willingly have children over and over again just to be ripped open or cut open when there was plenty of children already among the five planets they currently inhabit?