Petunia looked at the stack of books in her hands. 'Madness and Insanity; A Book of the Darker Side of Psychology'. 'Daydreaming and Nightmares; Do They Mean Anything?'. They were both famous books on psychology. Both had been wrote by Harry James Potter. She opened the first one to the dedication.
'To my Aunt Petunia, for without her I would have long ago had my sanity perish and my skills wilt.'
She opened the second one.
"Dedicated to my Aunt Petunia. May she live happily knowing I am doing fine in the world.'
She snorted and tossed the books onto the table. The brat.
Petunia looked at the stacks of photos. Gen and Akira in many or them. Harry in every one. Slowly as she flipped through them she came to realize that as she progressed through thee large stack of photos, her nephew and his friends slowly aged telling her these photos had been taken over the course of a few years. There was her nephew on vacation in various countries dressed in traditional clothes. There he was doing a concert. There he was selling a painting. There he was writing, making potions, reading, surfing, riding, singing, laughing, training, rolling, flying, jumping, living.
As she went through the picture more people showed up. There was an older man with sandy hair and weary amber eyes. A man with long black hair, blue eyes, and a mischievous smile. A man with straight black hair, black eyes, and a disdainful sneer. A girl with curly brown hair, a book under arm, and standing in front of a Swedish shop. A boy with flaming hair, blue eyes and a wide smile playing chess in a Russian institution. Twins with red hair and throwing joke items about.
Everyone looked so proud, so happy, so alive.
The letter said Harry had done many wonderful things; saved a stone, saved a girl, proved a man's innocence, won a tournament, saved the school, killed the bad guy.
The bad guy was killed and her nephew was a hero.
Petunia looked at her family and then back at the pictures. She felt so envious. Everyone looked so alive.
Petunia looked around the almost silent house. Dudley was out with his friends. Her perfect Dudley was out smoking, drinking, stealing. Her perfect Dudley was being a bully. Her perfect Dudley was so perfect she turned a blind eye to his habits and actions.
Vernon was out with his co-workers. Her lovely Vernon was out drinking, partying, cheating on her. Her lovely Vernon was with his secretary using her nephew's money to rent a hotel room. Her lovely Vernon was so lovely she ignored his habits and actions.
She looked to the letter sitting on her counter. Her nephew had wrote again. He wrote every month without fail. She never replied but he kept up. The latest picture of him in a suit, a red violin to his neck, was hung near the window. She pressed her lips together as she looked at the picture.
Her hated nephew was out learning, acting, playing. Her hated nephew was out living. Her hated nephew was so disgusting she ignored him completely.
She sat down in her chair and rested her face in her arms. How the world loved being cruel.
Petunia looked at the paper in front of her and bit her lip. What to write? What could she write? She'd ignored him for ten years.
She looked around the empty house.
She'd tried. She'd tried very hard. She tried so very hard. But it hadn't helped. Her perfect Dudley was in jail. Her lovely husband had eloped with his secretary. She was all alone in a house that her nephew had bought her. She was only here today because of her nephew. She looked wistfully at a picture on her wall.
She remembered all those years ago when she'd looked out the window to see her nephew with a bird cradled to his chest and wondered what to do. She'd chosen to help him in her own way. Perhaps it had helped. Perhaps it hadn't.
She put the pen to paper.
How are you…
She looked down at the letter. She bit her lip slightly. What would he be like?
A knock at the door rang through the silent house. Petunia pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse as she hurried to the door. She opened it to find her smiling nephew. He was just like she had remembered and like the pictures show. Long wild hair, skin as pale as snow, eyes as green as jewels. The same dreamy smile was settled on his lips and his slender build looked ready to blow away. He was an inch smaller then her.
"Hello Aunt Petunia."
"Hello Harry." She said blankly.
He held out a hand and she hesitated. Harry saw.
"You raised me aunt Petunia. Perhaps not in the way other would think kind. But you raised me and taught me how to survive. You gave me the skills I needed and taught me life lessons. You were kind to me in your own away and I shall always be grateful for that."
She looked away slightly. She still did not understand why he was so kind.
"Please take my hand Aunt Petunia."
She slowly did so. He grasped it softly and pulled her from the house. The door magically shut and locked behind her.
"You don't have to be alone." He said. "You never abandoned me, so I won't abandon you."
She could have cried.
"Come. Let's go home." He whispered.
"You're much too kind brat." She said quietly.
He just smiled. She grasped his hand tighter as the world vanished in a swirl of colors and she left behind her old life to start one with the child she'd only half raised.
This was my first sequel. I was writing a much longer one but have not even come close to finishing and don't think I will for a long time so I just threw this one out there. The other sequel would have been in Harry's POV.