Chapter 17: A Story of Betrayal
Petunia sat silently on the strait-backed wooden chair in the headmaster's office. She stared at Dumbledore, and didn't feel a thing. It was as if everything around her was occurring in slow motion. Only one thing was felt through the haze of her pain. Professor Dumbledore was going to tell her who was responsible for this disaster. And then she would find the bloody murderer and make him regret that he was alive.
"Miss Evans, I feel it is my duty to tell you who is responsible for your great loss, and why this terrible crime was committed. This may upset you; it did shock your sister. But I believe information is the only key to safety. It's time you know the truth."
Petunia just sat there, saying nothing, but taking every word in.
Dumbledore continued calmly.
"You saw the wreckage of your house. However, one thing you did not see that was at the scene when the Aurors arrived. This was a great, green skull. A Dark Mark. I assume you do not know what a so-called Dark Mark is. To explain this, I will have to start at the beginning. This is a very long narrative, and I know you will be wondering what it has to do with the murder of your parents. However, I'm sure by the end of my story you will understand."
Dumbledore looked down at his fingers and began his tale, with the air of one who has told the same horrible story too many times.
"Now then. Many years ago, I was the Transfiguration teacher at the time, I was given the job of introducing a young boy to our world. Then he was known as Tom Riddle. Tom attended Hogwarts like every other pupil, but throughout his years, he was always a cruel boy. Not many saw it coming, he was a Slytherin, respected even by Gryffindors, he was Prefect, Head Boy, best of his class."
Dumbledore paused, looking Petunia in the eye. But it seemed as though he was looking right through her. Tom Riddle reminded Petunia just a little of James, actually. Perfect, loved by everyone, even grudgingly admired by the other houses. Dumbledore sighed.
"I'm not sure when it happened, not sure what went wrong, but something did. I believe it might have been when Tom Marvolo Riddle discovered his heritage. In any case, Tom decided he would no longer be Tom. He would be someone else. Taking up a new name, Lord Voldemort, he began to find followers.
"And many people joined him. For years after Hogwarts we had lost track of him, while he became more and more powerful. We had thought he was gone forever. But Tom is back. Of course, not many people realize that it is Tom. I fear I am one of the few who make the connection between the brilliant Head Boy and the awful, power-hungry Lord Voldemort, and one of the even less who will admit that they recognize him.
"Years ago, Lord Voldemort began this reign of terror. At first, the Ministry of Magic was able to keep everything under control to some extent, but things got worse. And I'm afraid that they are getting worse yet. The only place that is still safe is Hogwarts. And even the Muggles are noticing things. Murder. Destruction."
Petunia looked up. Yes, there had been all of those accounts of terrorists when she had still been actively part of the Muggle world. And yes, the students of Hogwarts had been getting more and more subdued over her years as a student. But that wasn't at the forefront of her mind. Instead a scene was playing in her head. A memory she had believed to be long forgotten.
Her parents sitting in front of the television set, watching the news. The reporter had been talking about strange mass attacks, with no suspects, not a single lead on what exactly was going on. Her parents had been looking terrified, and then her mother had turned to her father.
"It's him."
That was all she said, but the two had held onto each other like their lives depended on it, shaking, obviously very frightened. Petunia had only been 9 or 10 at the time. It was the only time she had ever seen her father cry.
But how had her mother known who it was?
Dumbledore resumed his speech.
"I have attempted to keep it a secret at Hogwarts. I see you have noticed nothing, or very little. I believe I am correct in assuming you did not surround yourselves with others for quite a while here," he added bluntly, then continued, "But others have noticed. And there are those who have joined him, even amongst our students. I think, in many respects, I have made a great mistake in trying to keep it from the students. The students from wizarding families have obviously known everything all along.
"But to stay with our story, his power grew and grew. And I had to have spies, as I'm sure he does. One spy in particular was a highly talented, very loyal woman. A woman named Rose Lestrange. Though you would know her as Rose Evans."
Petunia gasped.
"My mother?"
Dumbledore nodded.
"The very one. You see your grandmother, Heather, she was called, attended our school years ago, along with Tom. I do not think that Tom ever had true friends, but Heather, a fellow parent-less Slytherin was someone he confided in, perhaps as a partner in crime. Heather was one of the very first Death Eaters, Voldemort's followers, a part of his innermost circle. She married another Death Eater, a wealthy pureblood by the name of Lestrange and had a daughter.
"However when she attempted to get her daughter, Rose, to join in her evil deeds, Rose instead came to me with the information. And she proved very useful. Pretending to remain loyal to her mother and Voldemort, Rose became a spy for me and later on for the Order of the Phoenix. This is a group of people who work against Lord Voldemort.
"By this time, of course, the woman had married a Muggle man, and had children. We decided that her family would never know of her dreadful responsibility as a spy. She would raise her children as Muggles, never letting anyone suspect a thing, until the two girls, you and your sister, came to Hogwarts, where they would be safe."
"But she told him, didn't she?" Petunia asked, her voice shaky.
"Indeed, Rose told her Muggle husband, your father, of who and what she truly was. He took it surprisingly well, and stood by her side. Still, telling him was her great mistake. The mistake that cost her and her beloved husband their lives."
Petunia made to say something (he couldn't blame anything on her dead parents!) but Dumbledore stopped her.
"Later," he said, "Until later, you should listen while I finish.
"As I was saying, Rose told her husband about everything. And Lord Voldemort found out about her duty as a spy through him. You see, Lord Voldemort had some suspects, and wanted to find out which of them were spies without rousing my suspicion, for then I would have attempted to bring them and all those who knew the truth to safety.
"Unfortunately, though, Lord Voldemort tracked down your father. He was an easy target, of course, a Muggle. And his intentions may have been good at first, perhaps Voldemort even forced him into it, but your father began working for Lord Voldemort. And your mother never noticed, or perhaps refused to notice, until it was too late."
Dumbledore sighed loudly. His story was over. He looked at Petunia, and he knew what was going to happen, he had seen it too often not to.
"That's not true!" Petunia shouted hotly, "Dad was killed, too!"
"I know," Dumbledore, said in a resigned voice, "You see, Lord Voldemort shows his followers no more mercy than he does his enemies. And he despises all Muggles, even if they are his workers."
Petunia got up, knocking her chair over in the process.
"That's not true!" she repeated, half screaming, half crying, "It wasn't because of that!"
Petunia was becoming hysterical.
"Dad never...! It wasn't his fault! He was the good guy. Mum and Dad loved each other more than anything! He never would have betrayed her!"
Dumbledore sighed once again. He waved his wand silently.
And for the second time since hearing the terrible revelation, Petunia felt herself sinking into a dreamless darkness.