“It’s a pensieve, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said gently. He sat it down gingerly. “Happy birthday...I thought you’d….like this.”

“Well what is it?” she snapped. Vernon was out, and Dudders hadn’t come by yet.

“It’s memories…...of my mum.”

Petunia glared at him. “How dare you bring this to me--how dare you--”

“Aunt Petunia…” Harry’s voice was soft. “I didn’t think you’d look at them today. But...they’re there. For when you’re ready. Have a good day.” He stood up and gave her a press of his lips to her cheek.

Petunia hid the pensieve before Vernon came home.