It was nearly six years after the Dursleys were able to move back into their home of number 4, Privet Drive, and while their son, Dudley, was now an adult and had his own home to go to, nothing had changed for Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Indeed, the absence of their nephew had never been discussed nor had he been seen since their last goodbye just before his seventeenth birthday, before the protective charms surrounding the house and securing the Dursley’s safety wore off. For nearly an entire year the Dursleys were away from their home until they received an owl from the Ministry of Magic indicating that the magical world was saved, and they were safe to return to Privet Drive.

While the Dursleys received regular letters from their nephew each Christmas, they made no effort to contact him, having finally rid their family of the “m-word� they so loathed and feared. Harry had even invited the Dursleys to his wedding two years previously, but Petunia tucked the invitation away without mention, and the wedding happened without their presence. After that, the Dursleys had not heard from their nephew again.

It was a sunny autumn afternoon when Petunia Dursley scraping that morning’s bacon grease out of her favorite frying pan. She recalled a distant memory of swinging that same frying pan at her nephew’s head for pretending to scare Dudley with magic, as she usually did ever since that incident. Slightly disgruntled she scrubbed even harder until the pan sparkled and she set it to dry in the rack.

Being completely alone in the house was not something that Petunia has yet grown used to, as Dudley has completed his college education two years previously and was no longer living under her roof. It was now just herself and Vernon, who concentrated on his drill company more than ever as Dudley was no longer available to dote on. And Petunia, having stayed at home all of Dudley’s life, was left to maintain the house. She even looked forward to Tuesday afternoons, such as today, when the milkman delivered their weekly supply with a fresh vat of gossip on the surrounding neighbors.

And so, when the doorbell rang at two o’clock that afternoon, Petunia washed off her hands, removed her apron, and walked quickly to the front door to hear that week’s rumors.

However, when she opened the door to discover who was behind it, and what her nephew was holding, Petunia could do nothing but stare in shock.

Harry looked back her. After a few seconds of standing awkwardly on the front step of the Dursley house, he said, “I had a son. I thought you might like to meet him.� He held the baby a little higher.

Petunia did not know what to say or think. Surely this must be an illusion or some strange dream, for she never thought she would see her nephew again. And yet, here he was, real as ever, standing there with his baby boy in his arms, looking unsure as to whether he should have come.

Still without saying a word, Petunia stepped back to allow Harry and the baby to enter. Her nephew stepped through quite gingerly, still looking back at her. She stared into his eyes, remembering the young boy she had raised from when he was barely older than his own child, along with her own baby.

“His name is James,� Harry said, and moved closer to Petunia so she could look at the child. The boy had dark red hair and was fast asleep, cradled in his father’s arms. “He looks more like his mother, though. Ginny.� Harry looked up at Petunia, who had still not said a word, but was staring at the baby.

“Aunt Petunia, I’m sorry to come over unexpected like this. I just thought you should know you have a grand-nephew,� he said. “If you want me to leave, however, just let me know.� He backed away a few inches and looked down at his son.

“No, no,� Petunia said. After a few moments she suggested they have tea at the dining table. In silence Petunia put the kettle on the stove and fumbled with the tea set. A few minutes later she sat down across from her nephew and they sipped their tea, each wondering who would speak first.

“Uncle Vernon at work?� Harry offered.

Petunia nodded curtly.

“And Dudley?�

“Also at work. He has his own place now.�

Harry nodded. He looked around the house for a few moments before saying, “Would you mind if I set up his crib?� Petunia stared at him. “It just takes a second.� And before Petunia could respond, Harry whipped out his wand and a perfect baby crib popped out of thin air. He placed his son in the crib and sat back down at the table.

“Why didn’t you come to my wedding?� Harry stated suddenly, looking at Petunia, who stared at the table. “You raised me from the time I was a baby and you couldn’t even come to my wedding.�

“We couldn’t make it,� Petunia said simply. Harry fell silent, staring at the table.

“How old is the boy?� Petunia asked, looking into the crib.

“Four months,� Harry replied, a hard tone in his voice. Petunia looked up at him and was surprised to find him looking back at her.

“We were never fond of each other, Harry,� Petunia said, surprising herself.

“That was your doing. You thought of me as scum from the moment I was born. And yet, here I am, showing you my own son. I’m your sister’s son. This is your sister’s grandchild. Surely you must have some kind of wanting to meet him.�

Petunia stared at the baby as she sipped her tea. “May I hold him?� she asked suddenly.

If Harry was surprised he held it back as he nodded. He watched Petunia stand up and walk over to the crib, seeming unsure whether it was a good idea or not. She slowing reached down and picked up the sleeping child.

After a few moments of observing the boy she held in her arms, she turned to Harry, who noticed she had tears down her cheeks. “Is his red hair from Lily?� she asked.

Harry looked back at her, unsure how he should feel at this unusual affection from his aunt. “It might be, but Ginny has red hair, too.�

“I remember, from the Christmas cards,� she replied, gazing down at the child. “James,� she said softly. She could feel the child’s slow breathing as he cuddled himself into Petunia’s arms. She laid her cheek on his head, hoping that wherever she was, her sister knew that Petunia still loved her and thought of her as she stood in her kitchen, clinging onto her grand-nephew.

After a few moments Petunia leaned back and took the baby back to his father, hastily wiping her cheeks. Harry stood up with the baby and vanished the crib with his wand. He looked at his aunt.

“I suppose I’ll get going,� he said. She nodded slowly, staring at the floor. She walked to the front door with him and opened it.

Harry waited a moment before exiting and said, “It was nice to see you.�

Petunia looked at him and opened her mouth to reply, but found that she could not say all that she wanted to say, like how proud of him she was, and how sorry she was that their relationship had to be what it was. How amazed she was that he turned out to be the kind of man he was, that even though he received nothing but abuse and neglect at their hands, he still knew, in his heart, that his aunt would want this, to meet his son and to see Harry alive and happy.

And Petunia looked into Harry’s eyes and saw her own sister, lost, but never truly forgotten, and closed her mouth, for it was impossible to say what she needed to say to her nephew. But Harry seemed to understand as he reached forward and grasped her hand for a moment, before letting go and walking out the door with his son in his arms, still fast asleep.

Petunia leaned against the front door after it had been closed and could not help but smile. She climbed the staircase and walked to her and her husband’s bedroom, pausing to look into the room her nephew occupied for several years. She opened her closet and pulled out a box that only she knew of, a box she kept hidden from everyone, even her husband. She looked through the old photographs and Christmas letters she kept in the box, ones sent to her from her nephew over the past six years, although there were admittedly few. She wondered whether she would start receiving them again and vowed to send one, too, regardless.

And then she dug deeper into the box for a certain photograph she had not seen in years, a picture of her and her sister as children, possibly the last photo they took together in happy times, arms around each other, each proud and happy to be next to the other girl, to be included in the other’s world.

As much as she regretted her failed relationship with her sister, her best friend, Petunia knew that she could only go forward from here, and smiled as she thought of future visits from her nephew and hoped that she would not disappoint his son as she had disappointed him for his entire life.

Full of thoughts about the future, Petunia walked back down stairs and looked at the two teacups on the dining table, proving it had not really been a dream that her nephew had visited. However, there was a photograph lying on the table that she had not noticed before. She picked it up and saw Harry and, she presumed, his wife holding their newborn son and smiling, proud and happier than she had ever seen him before. He had left this picture for her and she held it to her chest with fresh tears in her eyes.

But, she heard Vernon’s car in the driveway and quickly tucked the picture away in her pocket as she moved to the sink with the teacups. She did not believe she would tell Vernon about Harry’s visit, as keeping it to herself made the memory even more precious. However, this world that she lived in was a far different world than that of her nephew’s, and she knew, as her husband walked in the house, that their lives would never truly entwine, but that there would always be a distant longing of the family she would never know.