I own nothing except my own characters and the plot!
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC BLOODSHED AND SCENES WHICH MAY BE INAPROPRIATE FOR YOUNGER READERS! PROGRESS WITH CAUTION!
"My pleasure, Gov," said the driver, climbing back into his car and driving off.
As soon as the car was out of sight, Harry turned and looked down the street at No. 4 …
The windows were dark, but the car stood in the drive, as if the Dursleys were home.
Harry sighed; they were probably out at one of the neighbouring houses, having dinner.
With that thought in mind, Harry walked a hundred yards down the street and up the paved path to the door…
Harry knocked on the door, and waited. After a few minutes, and no answer, he knocked again, this time, harder.
The door yielded, and opened. It was very unlike the Dursleys to leave their door open; they were paranoid about thievery, and always though that someone wanted to rob them.
Harry reached into his pocket, and withdrew his wand, leaving his trunk, and owl, on the doorstep; he walked into the dark hall, feeling along the right-hand wall for the light switch. His fingers brushed over it, and he flicked it on, illuminating the hall, and part of the sitting room, the door to which was open.
Harry looked carefully about him; if there was someone there, but they were under an Invisibility Cloak, he wouldn't be able to catch them with Finite Incantatem, as he would with a Disillusionment Charm or any of the various other charms for hiding a person.
Silently, Harry began to try and think of ways to find out if there was anyone in the house.
He found he could think of none that wouldn't leave him open to attack as he performed them. He silently gritted his teeth, and looked skyward. Another problem was that he couldn't perform any of the spells non-verbally. You know, Snape had a point there.
With a silent curse, Harry resorted to a game of Cat and Mouse; he would lure whoever (if there was someone) was in the house into a false sense of security.
"Paranoid git, Harry," he muttered, just loud enough to be heard. "There's no one here."
He walked into the dark kitchen, and fumbled for the light switch, not realising what he would find …
Harry let out a choked gasp of horror; sprawled on the floor were his uncle Vernon, and Dudley. Blood was everywhere, and they seemed to have had holes board through their chests.
Pinned to the vinyl flooring by a silver spike, was a note. Harry bent and retrieved it, his eyes burning.
An eye for an eye, Harry. Welcome home.
Harry stared at the note: 'an eye for an eye'? What could that mean? It must be a riddle, but …
"'Hallo, Potter," purred a voice from behind him; he turned to see a woman with dark skin, and black hair, leering at him. A white, skeleton mask was held tightly in her clawed hand.
Harry had his wand in a flash, but she was quicker, and disarmed him instantly.
"You've got to be quicker than that, boy," she teased, twiddling his wand between her red nailed fingers.
"Who are you?" asked Harry, trying to back away into the cupboard where he knew the knives were kept.
"Isn't that obvious? I'm a Death Eater," she examined her blood coloured nails in a bored fashion.
"Well, then, what are you waiting for?" asked Harry; some terrible haste to get what was coming over and done with had came over him. "Take me to Voldemort, and get it over with!"
Suddenly, her black eyes blazed, "I don't need an invitation, boy. Watch your tongue. In answer to your question, I'm waiting for my superior. He'll be back from looking for the Horse-Woman soon enough, and then you're going to our Lord, you filthy brat."
Horse-Woman? That meant that they hadn't found Petunia yet!
There was a crash from the hall, and tall figure entered …
The woman turned, "Did you find her, Sir?"
"Nah, she's vanished inta thin air," said the man, in a thick, Scottish accent, "bloody elusive fer a Muggle; even the Cap'n couldna' find 'er, and he 'ad tweny lookin' all over fer 'er!"
Harry wandered vaguely who the 'Captain' was … probably Voldemort.
"But sir, how can she have vanished? We saw her leave!" the woman was getting more agitated by the second. "The Dark Lord is going to be so angry!"
"There ya right, but he might appeased a wee bit by ya catchin' the lad," he looked at Harry.
"Well, I suppose, but really…" there was a 'BANG'; blood exploded from her head, and she fell on her face.
The man grabbed at his sheaved wand, and turned. There was another bang, and he too fell forwards in a pool of blood.
Harry looked towards the doorway; aunt Petunia was standing there, a revolver held firmly in her hand, and her white face set in a fury Harry had never guessed she could muster …
AN: How was it? How could it be better? Let me know!