Vernon Dursley was stood on the battlefield, staring between his dead nephew and the pastie lord.

"Boy,' he grunted, kicking Harry in the shoulder. Voldemort cackled.

"He's dead, muggle. Your precious nephew is dead."

"He's dead! Then who killed him? Whos going to cook my bacon?"

"I killed him,"

'Then you will cook my bacon!"

"I AM THE DARK LORD!" Vernon scoffed

"Dark Lord", huh? That just sounds, to me, like another way of saying you don't have a REAL JOB, now march into the kitchen right now,"

Voldemort looked down at the dead body of Harry Potter.

"This is what you went through?" Vernon scoffed again.

"It's going to get worse for you if you don't COOK. MY. BACON!" he yelled, grabbing his double-barrel shotgun and pointed it at Voldemort. "I was ready to shoot a half-giant, half wizard whos around 20 times more intimidating than a. Noseless. Goth. Freak."

"I killed your brother and sister-in-law, I can kill you!" Voldemort, sounding annoyed he was even having this conversation. He closed his eyes and sighed, not noticing Vernon loading his shotgun.

"I'm guessing you're not going to cook my bacon," Vernon spoke slowly, and irritate.

"Duh! I am a dark lo…"

He never noticed or heard Vernon shoot his gun. He couldn't even have smelled the gunpowder.

Vernon never got his bacon.