Prologue
Warning: Mature rating, so read at you own discretion. Gore and adult content in the beginning but hopefully will mellow out later.
The Dursley's sat at the dinner table eating the dinner that he had prepared, while Harry crept down the stairs. He had it all planned out. Now let's just hope it works. After a few moments of silent chanting to himself, his inane magic kicked in and he became partially invisible. He snuck up until he stood between Vernon and Dudley. The first shot was quick and easy, made from Vernon's small hand pistol that he had been threatened with on occasion. He dropped the invisibility as Vernon came to his feet. He pointed the gun at Vernon while the knife he had lifted from the kitchen drawer went to Dudley's throat, unnoticed by him.
Dudley sat transfixed, watching as bits of his mother's brain and blood dripped down the wall from where it had splattered when she had been shot through the forehead. Vernon stood stock still, staring at his nephew in disbelief as his face began to purple, the gun pointed straight at it. Dudley seemed to have awoken from his stupor because his face turned a repulsive shade of green before going white as his stomach was cut open, his intestines bulging out and onto the floor. He made one half-strangled cry before his throat was slit, blood spraying over his still full plate before he slumped face first into it. Harry's gaze swept over Petunia, her dead eyes staring at the table, her head bowed. Then he turned to Vernon, who had gone deathly pale.
"Beg," was all Harry said and Vernon literally dropped to his knees, begging for his life. Harry just laughed and put a foot to Vernon's chest, sending him sprawling on his back. Harry moved in and began to sing as he cut Vernon into bite size pieces.
"Thumbing through the pages of my fantasies
Pushing all the mercy down, down, down
I wanna see you try to take a swing at me
Come on, gonna put you on the ground, ground, ground
Why are you trying to make fun of me?
You think it's funny?
What the fuck you think its doing to me?
You take your turn lashing out at me
I want you crying when you're bloody down in front of me
All my hate cannot be bound
I will not be drowned by your thought less scheming
So you can try to tear me down, beat me to the ground
I will see you screaming
Thumbing through the pages of my fantasies
I'm above you, smiling at you, drown, drown, drown
I wanna kill and rape you the way you raped me
And I'll pull the trigger and you're down, down, down"- Thoughtless by Korn
Harry stopped singing and stood, looking down at the body. Harry pulled the gun from his pocket and shot a hole through Vernon's mutilated head, even though the man had died when he had carved his heart out, which now lay beside the body. Harry slipped the gun back into his pocket, alongside the knife and slogged through the blood over to the kitchen cupboards. He opened one and pulled out a clean plate, leaving behind bloody finger prints on the cupboard door and the white plate's edge. He waded his way back to the table, set the plate down at the empty place, and went back over to Vernon's body. He picked up the heart in his bare hand and carried it over to the table, setting it down carefully on the plate. Harry then sat in the pristine chair, across from Petunia's corpse, a satisfied smile on his face.
He laughed as the sirens wailed down the street and he laughed when the police charged in and stopped dead upon seeing a young boy sitting in the center of a horror scene. He laughed when they handcuffed him and took him away. He laughed at the barely-a-trial he received. He laughed when they carted him off to the insane asylum and locked him in one of those stupid white padded rooms you hear about. But, he stopped laughing when THEY came for him.
AN: More soon, hopefully. Constructive criticism welcome.