In a warmly furnished house, a baby in a cradle was crying loudly.
"Don't cry!" Petunia said viciously. "You'll wake Dudley!"
But the boy with the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead continued crying. The baby in the other cradle shifted uncomfortably, which directly enraged Petunia. She stood up, picked up the other swaddled baby, and put him into the cupboard beneath the stairs.
Once she shut the door, the child's crying quieted considerably. She let out a long breath and went off to do something else.
After hanging out the laundry, she returned to the cupboard. The crying inside had already stopped.
Perhaps feeling a little guilty, she set down the basket and opened the cupboard door. Fortunately, Harry had merely cried himself to sleep.
Petunia then settled her own son into his bedroom. Only after making sure Harry's cries would not wake him did she return to caring for her sister's son.
"You're just like your father," Petunia said as she changed Harry's diaper. "Always causing trouble for everyone."
Harry cried out from time to time, but received none of Petunia's tenderness.
"If it weren't for your father, how could my sister have ended up like this?" Petunia said expressionlessly. "Why couldn't you just behave yourselves?"
"So she thought James should have been like Vernon?" Pomona said. "Only someone like Vernon could be a satisfactory husband?"
"Let me finish," Severus said patiently.
But Pomona had little patience for his "story." More precisely, it was Harry's memory, one Severus had read from his mind when Harry had been practicing Occlumency years ago.
Childhood memories had not vanished as people imagined, even though Harry, like most people, could no longer remember what had happened during his childhood.
Before long, Petunia found a pin. She had used it to secure the blanket