Harry Potter was only twelve years old, but considered himself to be one of the most accomplished pastry chefs roaming this dreary side of Britain. He didn't have the- you know, "legal training" but even without it there wasn't a single soul in Surrey who could meet him in the kitchen.
He was even good enough to go famous if he managed to make it big somehow!
So how was it that he was trapped in the stuffy. dumpy house of disinfectant his horrid relatives called home, sweating over a hot meal he just knew the fucking lards wouldn't appreciate in the slightest?? Easy.
It was all Headmaster Dumbledore's fault.
Harry glared as a bead of sweat rolled down his face and plopped down to add to the growing collection in the lense of his glasses.
Fucking Dumbledore. His first year at Hogwarts, he quite literally thought the sun shone from between the old fools ass cheeks. How could he not? Dumbledore drew him win with warm eyes and kind smiles, fed him full of pumpkin juice and treacle tart, eased his mind and warmed his heart with fond tales of his parents- of people who were and people who had yet to come. He trusted Dumbledore with his life from the moment he stepped into Hogwarts castle.
"Boy, hurry along with that stew, Vernon's business partners are a half hour away! That smarmy school didn't wipe your slight competence, did it?!"
Harry felt his mouth pull down into a scowl so harsh it split his lower lip, and put a little too much force into the next stir. The soup was tomato based- it was horrible and tasted like nothing but fucking preservatives but it wasn't as if anyone here could tell the difference- their palettes were all dulled by their horridness.
He hissed in pain as the soup hit his arm. That had become a new habit of his, since his little scuffle with a giant snake that should have only existed in fairy tales and not below the fucking school full of children what the fuck.
He lifted his forearm up and watched as the ugly red sore bought on by the heat of the soup faded within seconds. Again- that was new, and a product of the basilisk.
He scowled again, and went back to stirring. it would be done within the next 15 minutes after he added the potatoes- which were cooling after their little ice bath.
He had begged Dumbledore not to send him back here his first year. The old man had smiled in his face and told him no. That was when the enchantment first began to flicker. It drained further during the summer, and then- throughout the entire second year, it nearly depleted entirely. Funnily enough, the basilisk was the final blow.
Not a single wizard in Britains history had survived the bite of a basilisk with the aid of phoenix tears. Why Dumbledore was so confident in his safety here when his blood was confirmed to be enough to sicken a normal witch or wizard for a week and every other day he was desperately trying to make sure that idiot Vernon didn't cut his flesh was beyond him.
Didn't he realize that the muggle family he sent Harry to were increasingly in danger the longer Harry was here?
Harry stopped stirring as his thoughts came to a grinding halt, and stared at his previously burned forearm. Huh. his blood was toxic enough to take a wizard out of commission for a while, because a wizard had more protections in their immune system. But a muggle? Or say- three?
Muggles were weak, and so very fragile. They couldn't heal automatically. They had no magic to scan and tell them what was wrong- they had to go through weeks upon weeks of expensive testing and even then the answer wouldn't be revealed until it was nearly too late- or it would stay hidden until well after.
And no muggle testing would be able to properly identify basilisk venom- let alone cure or ward against its effects. If Harry's blood were enough to make a wizard sick for a week then would it be enough to kill a muggle within days?
Harry licked his lip, tasting the sharp tang of blood with a new, darkening perspective.
Well, there was only one way to know, wasn't there?
And if they did die- well, what fault was his? Besides the poisoning, of course but- he would never let Voldemort or Snape or Draco cook for him. Enemies should know better than to trust the one they hate to handle their meals and eat them. That was just common sense.
What was a little pain compared to freedom? What was a little murder when there was no one around to save him but himself? What did it matter? The Dursley's didn't exist outside of Surrey, and the little town was in desperate need of a bit of new, good gossip.
Before he could get in too deep into his head and listen to the budding doubts of empathy and reason as to why murder was wrong, Harry placed his tongue between the sharpest of his teeth, and began to count to three.
One...This had better be worth it.
Two... How would he get away with it? Where would he put the bodies? What would he tell the police-
THREE- Harry dropped the wooden ladle and slammed both of his fist against his jaw with a sharp cry. Blood immediately filled his mouth, and he leaned forward, letting it drip into the stew until the wound healed.
The pain remained of course- both his jaw and tongue smarted heavily, and his poor knuckles were screaming at him almost as much as his mind. But he couldn't help his smile as he watched the bright red tomato paste turn a deep, cherry red.
"BOY GET OUT HERE, VERNON'S GUEST HAVE ARRIVED!"
Ah, he had forgot about the two extra men sharing dinner tonight. No matter- anyone that willingly associated with the Dursley's were bound to get their due. At least, that's what he told the guilt trying desperately to escape the box he viciously stamped it into.
Besides, there was no guarantee that it would work.
He would find out soon enough. Dinner was ready to be served, after all.
Harry gathered all five bowls, filled them to the broom and even added a bit of arugula as garish. Balancing the steaming bowls on his arm, he pushed the kitchen door open with his foot and grinned at the table full of hungry party members that turned to stare- some more venomously than others (Petunia) .
"I hope you're all hungry. Dinner is served."