Chapter 2

"When is the appointment?" Harry asked, his treasured knife in hand as he trailed it along the table in a bored manner. At first, no one responded, causing Harry to look up.

Like always, Dudley was nowhere to be found. The only indication that he had even shown up to breakfast was the plate of barely eaten food left on the table, no doubt in a haste to get away before Harry had seen him eating more than he was allowed too. Just the thought of knowingly making Dudley starve himself brought a sense of accomplishment to Harry's already growing list of dreadful deeds.

Dudley was not the first to break, unfortunately. He was the one; however, that was currently suffering the most from it. He was almost unrecognizable in his current state, nowhere near the same as he was back when he was six. No, present Dudley was thin, much too thin actually. A feat that had taken Harry 3 years to accomplish.

Scaring Dudley into listening to him could only take Harry so far, to get the whale of a boy to willingly not eat took a bit of research on Harry's part. Now all it took was a knife to his neck and Harry's finger shoved down his throat to make him throw up and the rest was a wrap. Harry had even ceased his noisemaking nights to sneak out and listen to Aunt Petunia gently plead Dudley to go down and eat something. Or crying to herself at night as both she and a hidden Harry watched Dudley pace back and forth, stomach growling as he thought of whether he could risk going down to take a snack or not.

Once Dudley had tried, and Harry had even let him grab a bag of chips before striking. The boy had almost lost his arm to Harry that night. It was actually his parents' tendencies to spoil Dudley that kept the boy alive for so long. Before Harry had started operation starve Dudley to death, the boy was extremely obese and was at high risk of developing diabetics. Now, he was extremely malnourished.

Even talk of abuse had started spreading around the neighborhood like wildfire. If Dudley died, no when he did, Harry would be the first to call the cops and he knew they probably would find his cupboard under the stairs suspicious. The fact that a child under their care would have died of starvation too would leave the Dursleys with some serious jail time.

And it was all just to break Vernon Dursley.

Harry hated to admit it but he failed. Aunt Petunia and Dudley had been easy enough to break, but Uncle Vernon had to defy him. The man refused to break. He wasn't the same as he was before though. Less rash and impulsive, a whole lot more calculative. It made Harry respect and despise him at the same time. He was quite tired of failing and had figured jail, (or better yet) prison would get the job down.

Even if Vernon wasn't completely broken, it didn't mean Harry didn't have close to complete control over the family. Yes, he didn't have his own bedroom, but with the way things were turning out letting Harry stay in the cupboard was actually the safer (even if it was quite abusive) option. Giving Harry the second biggest bedroom upstairs with them, even if it might lessen the charges if Dudley were to die, would be putting the trio at the mercy of an extremely sadistic child.

There wouldn't be a single safe spot in the house, unlike how things were. Harry rarely went upstairs at night, finding pleasure in staying close to a huge source of knives and kitchen utensils that could be potentially dangerous. In turn, the Dursleys never ventured downstairs for extremely obvious reasons. Unlike when he was six and would taunt them, 10-year-old Harry was restless and was constantly out and about.

Aunt Petunia abruptly stood up, snapping Harry's attention back to the present. Her eyebrows were furrowed in thought as she started clearing the dishes from the table until the only dish remaining was Dudley's barely eaten food. Harry, in turn, waited patiently for her to finish.

"I trust you will be able to explain the situation without any difficulties," Aunt Petunia muttered to her husband, hands shaking as she quickly walked away, no doubt to check if Dudley was still alive or do whatever odd things she did in the mornings to avoid seeing him. Harry brought his attention to his Uncle, raising an eyebrow in defiance as he stared.

Uncle Vernon only sighed.

"Harry, one of the requirements was to write a letter explaining how you have been for the past few years after you killed your Aunt's dog. Petunia didn't think it was necessary to list all of your rather brutal experiments but I still managed to get quite a bit of your more creative works through. I sent it last week and the information explaining whether we would have to schedule an appointment or not should be coming in today along with possible diagnostics and a list of medication and therapy choices," He explained slowly, but not in a fearful way like Aunt Petunia would have done.

Harry thought about what his uncle had said, mulling over his advantage in this situation. He didn't see how he could get anything past the doctors. There was a chance that they would turn out to be a bunch of babbling idiots, but Harry didn't try indulging his ego, not after last time. Just the thought of that bitch brought a sardonic smile on his face.

Uncle Vernon seemed to pick up on Harry's darkening mood, without uttering another word he got up and grabbed his keys, heading upstairs to no doubt smuggle Dudley out of his room and take him out to eat. Yes, Harry was well aware that the pair did that. He was extremely lenient with Dudley; however, when it came to finding clever ways to eat without Harry knowing. There was always the possibility of making Dudley throw it all up later until he was practically dry heaving anyway. Their relationship was a constant game of cat and mouse. As it turns out, the cat was always hungry.

Unlike other days, Harry had a blank face as he got up from his seat and went to grab Dudley's food. Without bothering to notify the Dursleys of him leaving, Harry unlocked the door and started walking away.

Next to his neighborhood was a run-down park which a few kids would go to play. Harry had no interest in the park, but the ghetto a few blocks down the road from it. It was about a 15-minute walk away, but the time was well spent for the rewards he would gain.

The kids watched him as he walked on their sidewalk. He didn't miss the fact that most didn't have shoes to wear and the majority looked starved. They were eyeing the plate of food he was carrying with greediness but none dared to step forward. After all, Harry was a well-known person in this particular ghetto, especially for his cruelty.

Harry in turned eyed all 10 kids, none looked older than him. With an unreadable expression on his face, he picked up a single piece of bacon and threw it on the floor right at his feet. One child immediately sprang forward, hunger evident in her eyes as she readily ate the bacon off the floor. Harry stood in front of her, waiting patiently.

The others (though jealous) still kept a safe distance away. Harry could spot one child holding on to his friend as the boy made to walk forward, no doubt to ask for some food too. Harry furrowed his eyebrows. How did they all know his tricks? Had one of the little midgets been around when he beat up the other kid last month? Either way, Harry would have to rely on his other tricks to lure the kids in. For now, he would settle for the girl.

He looked down, noticing the brown haired girl had finished the dirty bacon, chocolate brown eyes staring up at him in gratitude, hair tousled from playing and diving on the floor. The dark feeling Harry had this morning came back, but the consequences of his unique anger would be acted upon this time. The girl didn't deserve to be happy in this cruel world, not when a girl a bit older than her with the same characteristics was alive.

"Thank you, sir," The girl pipped politely, oblivious to Harry's widening smile. The same Cheshire cat grin that told Dudley Harry was going to attempt to murder him again. The same grin one kid must have recognized, the one holding his friend. The kid was rather small but had bright blue eyes and black hair. With a frightened squeak, he turned and bolted. Eyes widening in understanding, the rest must have picked up on the warning signs and made a mad dash away. The girl turned, confused at the sudden behavior. Harry took his chance and grabbed her hair, tugging it close to him and drawing a pained noise from the girl. Then a look of recognition.

"Scrooge?" She asked, fear evident in her voice as tears threaten to escape her eyes. Harry didn't respond but threw her onto the floor. The girl was quick to catch herself, only managing to get cuts on her hands and elbows but Harry wasn't done with her. As she turned to say something to him, Harry kicked her face.

The girl screamed and curled up in a ball, shoulders shaking. Harry gently put down his plate of food before crouching in front of the girl. Taking a fistful of her hair, he pulled her face out of her protective position to see just what he had done to her.

The answer? He had broken her nose. There was blood everywhere and her lips even looked busted. Tears streamed down her face as she shook.

"You ate my bacon," Harry stated casually. "Give it back," he added as an afterthought. It had been so long since he had done something as wonderful as this before. The girl just sobbed, which was understandable as she could have been only 7. Like with Dudley, Harry just sighed in disappointment before using one finger to pry her mouth open. Sticking as many fingers as her mouth would allow him, he shoved them in. Harry bathing in the sounds of her gags until she lurched forward, the eaten bacon came soaring out along with a variety of foods she must have eaten earlier. None of it was edible; however, as it did come out as vomit. Still, Harry wasn't done. He shoved his hands down her throat and again she gagged and threw up and so the cycle repeated.

Between intervals of being gagged, the girl would struggle to get enough air in her lungs and cry at the same time. Harry was honestly surprised the girl didn't pass out from lack of oxygen.

When she finally couldn't cough up anything else Harry let his grip on her hair loose, watching in satisfaction as she fell in her own pool of vomit. He normally didn't beat up the kids this badly as he still wanted to be allowed to enter the ghetto, but now that Vernon had revealed he might have shared some of Harry's more darker deeds, Harry knew he was going to be in a mental institute for the rest of his life. Maybe not the rest of his life, but he would most definitely be shipped away. The girl's parents were probably broke anyway, they wouldn't have the money or resources to file a lawsuit. Better yet, they wouldn't have the money to take the girl to a hospital for the broken arm he was about to give her.

He had been around enough to know that the kids here only ate one meal a day, and it looked like the girl had already eaten her meal. She'd probably starve to death or give in to the pain between now and tomorrow morning. Smile fading as he got off his temporary vengeful spree, Harry calmly knelt down and bent her arm, breaking it with a startlingly show of practice.

The girl screamed, and Harry could only smile as he grabbed his food and continued down into the ghetto, whistling a tune that sounded oddly similar to that of the King of Despair, which was actually quite fitting for him. The eery tune floated through the air. Mothers and children alike peering at him through their windows. Harry didn't miss the Christmas Carol reference the girl had let slip. While he did have an uncanny resemblance in terms of greediness to Ebenezer Scrooge, Harry considered himself to be better than that old hag.

He quite liked his life. Controlling the weak, striking fear on the poor, and bankrupting the rich. Not like he had done the latter yet, but it was on his to-do list for when he becomes older and was able to land a sweet paying job. Until then he would have to settle for destroying children's lives and trading food for different colored collectible knives. Harry knew that the guy selling them could very well just be painting a bunch of random knives, but they were pretty and it wasn't even Harry's own food he was sacrificing so he didn't mind. As long as the knives would be able to inflict pain unto another person, Harry didn't really mind where they came from. As he made it to the little shack at the far side of the street he was on, Harry couldn't help but sigh as he saw the door padlocked shut.

Harry was no stranger to locks and the art of picking one, but when the door is locked up it usually meant the bastard wasn't home. Off pulling another heist Harry concluded as he walked up to the door. Any other day Harry would have brought the now cold food up to the dark murky river the people of this neighborhood were currently using to dump his trash in, but all his malice had been released on the girl and he was in a more impatient mood. The amount of fun Dudley must be having with him gone, the thought just won't settle with Harry's conscience. He had thrown 10 knives at the boy last week, it was only fair the kid should endure 11 attempts this week. The sooner the better after all.

With a clatter, the locks fell to the ground after Harry had used his treasured knife to pick it. Walking in, he carelessly threw the food on a big table before venturing to the back to pick from the large assessments of weapons. In the end, Harry chose 4 pocket knives and a pretty knife laying in the back. The actual blade was shiny silver, the hilt decorated with emerald green jewels. The knife itself was an exact replica of Harry's treasured knife. The only difference being that his had blue jewels and a little picture of a lily flower in the middle.

With his objectives for today complete, Harry started heading home. By the time he got back, the sun was high in the sky and lunch at the Dursley household had officially started. Walking up on the right side of the house, Harry glanced in through the window. There was Dudley, a fork of steak shoved in his mouth as he savored the taste. As Harry used to he was wearing big shirts to hide his skinny frame since all the new ones Dudley got would appear lying on his bed torn the next day. Dudley had, in turn, begged his parents not to buy anything else for him or Harry might one day have the urge to stab him again while destroying the items. His parents had begrudgingly complied.

Years of enduring Harry's antics were what saved Dudley that day he looked up to see Harry glowering at him through the windows. In a flash, he was gone, racing up the stairs like a madman. Harry just blinked, calmly walking over to the mailbox to see if the information for his appointment had come in. He was quite relieved when he saw two letters addressed to him. One was about his appointment and the other was a strange letter addressed to him by a guy named Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witches and Wizards. With a snort he threw the latter away, not amused by Dudley's friends' prank. He had actually civilly snuck up behind Dudley to warn him that he didn't appreciate his friends trying to prank him some time ago in the past.

How could Dudley have defied his wishes like that? Had he been too lenient? Maybe actually aiming for Dudley's arms and legs along with throwing 14 knives may straighten the jerk up and teach him a lesson. With that in mind, Harry tossed the letter on the ground. The breeze would take it away in the morning anyway. He had more pressing things to sort out and more important people to torture.