AN: As everybody who read the original story noticed, this is a repost. There have been some changes made although the basic plotline remains the same. There really isn't any changes in the beginning although I added a bit to the end. I appreciate any comments and all feedback; constructive criticism is very, very welcome.

I do not own Harry Potter.

-Noda

Prologue- Good things come to those who...take?

Melanie Dwayne shook her head in exasperation as she finished reading the contents of the manila folder in her lap. She handed it to the man seated beside her and stretched.

"Honestly, I've quite run out of patience for Dursley, I say that we just dispose of him. What say you, brother mine?"

Damien Dwayne didn't answer, his dark blue eyes gleaming as he flipped through the papers. Melanie glared and slouched in her seat, muttering to herself until he tapped her on the head with the folder. She turned expectant eyes to him.

"I, too, am quite done with him. Why don't we pay the Dursleys a visit tonight?"

Melanie gave him a feral grin and pantomimed shooting a gun as her brother bowed his head in acknowledgement.

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The name Dwayne was quickly becoming something to be feared and respected in England's shadow world; the two siblings who had first appeared out of nowhere as assassins had gained ambition and power.

Melanie Dwayne, a woman as intelligent and deadly as she was beautiful, startled those who found out that she was the brains behind the duo. A pale heart-shaped face with thoughtful brown eyes framed by soft golden brown locks, she was all smiles and laughter one minute and a cold-blooded killer the next. The many who underestimated her had only to see the childish glee with which she drilled a bullet into a man's skull before understanding her reputation which was as notable as that of her brother, Damien Dwayne.

Damien Dwayne spoke little and usually sat silent beside his sister as she chattered to her heart's content. His piercing dark blue eyes set in a coldly handsome face often left people staring in awe; his neatly cut black hair and significant height only added to his intimidating image. He seemed to exude a power and authority that others could rarely bring themselves to challenge.

On this particular evening, the two had been studying their small but growing business and had noted that a certain Vernon Dursley had failed to repay the loan that they had kindly extended. Although one of the first clients of the Dwaynes infant business he had repeatedly failed to keep his end of the bargain and they took it as a slight to themselves, and the Dwaynes didn't take such slurs lightly.

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It was shortly past midnight when the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive swung silently open. Two figures slipped in, closing the door behind them with a quiet click before making their way upstairs.

The steady ticking of a clock echoed through the house as the door closest to the stairs was opened.

Melanie peered into one of the two cribs in the room. A chubby blonde baby was asleep, cushioned among an army of stuffed animals, snoring lightly. Muffling her giggle into one hand, she poked his cheek until he yawned and turned onto his stomach. Damien stood across the room, his back to his sister, looking down into the rickety crib that held another baby— this one with a mop of dark hair and a curious scar. Running a finger gently over the infant's fist, he tensed as green eyes sleepily opened. The baby blinked and hesitantly gripped the man's finger. Damien's face was inscrutable as he gazed down at the baby before he gently withdrew his finger, tucked a worn blanket over the strangely quiet child, and turned away.

"Aren't they cute Dai?"

Melanie made a soft disgruntled noise when her brother ignored her, stepping out into the hall to open another door instead. She couldn't help snorting in amusement when a loud snore came from inside. Damien shot her a warning look before he strode in and placed the barrel of his gun against the fat man's head, waking him instantly.

"W-what?"

"How do you do Mr. Dursley?"

"Do excuse us for intruding at this late hour."

Melanie flicked on the light before she pointed her own gun at Petunia whose frightened eyes darted around the room before fixing themselves on her husband. Said husband was starting to sweat as he slowly heaved himself up into a sitting position.

"H-how did you g-get in here?"

Melanie flashed him a bright smile.

"It wasn't all that hard considering that you didn't invest in even the simplest alarm system." The slight tilt of her head leant her expression a degree of mockery. "Shame on you Mr. Dursley, anyone could waltz into your home and do as they wished." Then, almost as if she'd forgotten, "Oh! While we're here, would you care to explain your failure to turn in the payment this month? And the month previous?"

"Payment? Vernon, what's going on?" Petunia's voice was slightly hysterical as she clutched the blankets to her.

"Petunia, dearest, can't we talk about this later?"

Vernon shot his wife a pleading look which she ignored, her reply frosty and laced with anger as she straightened, her fury ignited by the combination of being woken by threatening strangers and her husband's spinelessness before them.

"Vernon, I want an explanation. Now."

Melanie lowered her gun and Damien raised a brow. She shrugged as she perched herself on the edge of the bed, watching the two occupants interestedly.

"It would be ill mannered of us not to give Mrs. Dursley a few minutes to understand the situation; after all, it wouldn't be proper to involve her in something that her moronic husband did."

Damien leaned against the wall and tucked his own weapon away.

"My sister has a point. Don't you agree Mr. Dursley?"

"I…"

Petunia pursed her lips at her guests.

"As his wife, I am involved in anything my husband does but I appreciate your…thoughtfulness."

Melanie's grin widened as Petunia turned to her husband.

"Vernon, what are they talking about?"

Vernon stuttered out an account of his dealings with the Dwaynes to his increasingly livid wife, taking pains to keep it as brief and as vague as possible.

"How much do you owe them Vernon?"

Her husband paled and mumbled something until Melanie coughed warningly.

"Your wife asked you a question Mr. Dursley, let us not be rude."

"A-a few thousand pounds—"

Petunia's eyes widened as she gasped in shock. Vernon hastily reached out for her and his speech came in rapid bursts as he tried to calm his wife.

"Forgive me Petunia, the company was in trouble and we were going to be turned out on the streets if I hadn't borrowed the money."

Damien straightened and the click of the safety pulling back seemed to explode through the silent room.

"Yes, about that money, we are starting to wonder if you will ever pay it back; we've waited long enough and so…

"I swear I'll p-pay you back!! I swear!!"

"That, I'm afraid, is not good enough Mr. Dursley."

As Damien raised the gun Vernon frantically waved his hands, his horrified gaze spreading across his gray face.

"Wait!! Can't we make a deal? What if I gave you something else instead of the money?"

Damien narrowed his eyes at the man and Vernon shuddered violently.

"I don't take kindly to people who try to haggle with me, Mr. Dursley."

"Damien, do control your temper."

Melanie had been watching Petunia whose lips had tightened but otherwise had shown no other sign of fear, rather, she seemed to have resigned herself to…death? Pain? Whatever it was the woman had piqued her curiosity.

"And do you have anything of worth that you might offer us?"

The man looked around madly, grasping at the chance that he might save himself from the bullet loaded into the solid, heavy weapon that rested in Damien's hand, before he sucked in a sudden breath, a desperate glint in his eyes.

"My nephew. You can have him."

Petunia uttered a strangled noise, but her husband ignored her, or simply didn't hear her, as he bulled on with a feverish enthusiasm.

"His good-for-nothing parents are dead and he was left on our doorstep. You can have him; I'm sure you can find some use for him."

"And what use would we have for a baby Mr. Dursley?"

Melanie giggled at the absurdity of it, twirling the gun carelessly, heedless of Petunia's wary glance.

"Maybe not now but after he gets a little older, I'm sure—"

Damien's hand moved faster than they could blink and Vernon recoiled from the hole that the bullet had ripped in the wall just above his head. The man couldn't have spoken to save his life.

"You disgust me Dursley, selling off your nephew like a common slave. But, I must admit I'm intrigued. Do you think the exchange satisfactory, Melanie?"

His sister shrugged, speaking distractedly as she watched Petunia struggling with herself.

"I feel that this is the best we shall get from him. Mrs. Dursley, do you have any objections?"

Petunia started than sniffed derisively.

"Take him, I really don't care."

Melanie beamed and clapped her hands excitedly.

"If you would kindly gather his papers and belongings we shan't bother you any longer."

The Dursleys stared at her uncomprehendingly and she sighed.

"We will be taking your nephew with us so please bring him before we change our minds."

Petunia didn't move as Vernon rushed out of the room. Her eyes had a far away look to them but she briskly shook her head and straightened her shoulders.

"I suppose this is for the best."

In a few minutes Damien held the dark-haired little boy in his arms and Melanie toted a small duffle and a sheaf of papers. Vernon eagerly shoved a bag half full of bottles and diapers at her.

"His name is Harry Potter and he just turned two a few weeks ago."

Melanie took the bag without a word and swept out of the house. Damien paused at the door and turned back to face the nervous Vernon who flinched under the merciless gaze.

"Dursley, our business with you is complete. Take care not to cross our path again for that will be the day you die."

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Next door, Arabella Figg glanced out the window and muttered to her cats, shuffling into the kitchen for her customary glass of warm milk with just a teaspoon of honey for flavor.

"Young people nowadays, don't have any respect for others, they don't. Traipsing around at all times…"

If only she knew.

Later, when Albus Dumbledore asked the elderly woman to look over Harry James Potter she could only stare at him blankly, wondering if all those Muggle sweets had finally gotten to his head.