Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm merely a fan. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: What is time for a screwed up heart? Shots fired! Harry Potter disappeared years ago, only to reappear in the past. Dark!Harry. Slash.
Register This - Prologue
'I solemnly swear I'm up to no good.' Yeah that one is a classic, well and truly from the good old days. I couldn't tell you how peeved it makes me now, but nonetheless…
"What do you want?"
Gruff, muffled, straining vocal cords had made the sound. Vernon sure was getting it tonight.
"Your face plastered to the Daily Prophet." I said smoothly.
A grunt. A mere fucking grunt.
"What next? Are you going to confess you loved me the whole time? Where …?" I trailed off. Vernon was no fun in his old age. "What happened to all that hate of magic and Petunia being Lily's much mocked victim?"
"Harry, I'm in a fucking retirement home." Vernon gritted his teeth. "How am I supposed to do you one? Besides, you're not a child…anymore." He added as an afterthought.
Well, well, well! Vernon Dursley, the nightmare of my childhood's past, has officially lost his nads to the powers of age and time. He wasn't the only wanker I know to have done so, but I never expected it out of this lardtrap.
"So I came here all fussed up for a bellow and fists flying-"
"Sit the fuck down Harry."
Right. No more give a shit left. How the hell was Vernon supposed to know that Petunia was a squib?
A dead squib, very dead by ten…! This is so inane! I roared in my mind. Pissed! How was I…? How would I…?
I took a seat. A rusted metal framed chair with cracked green lining, nothing special, across from Vernon.
"How did Petunia find out?" I asked resignedly. This…Petunia dead…was not in my plans for the night.
"An American." Tears again crep down Vernon's cheeks. Again! "She said she was tracing the family tree on Ancestry."
Fuck this all! "So another squib, or…"
Vernon sighed, his large chest heaving. "No, a witch, a lawyer in specific. She said she couldn't find any descendants, so they took DNA swabs. Said her clients were desperate for a beneficiary, any beneficiary. She c-couldn't h-h-handle it. Petunia…Pet…m-my love."
"Right," I said blankly, not wanting to sound like I was compassionate nor wanting to sound uncaring. The gun in my waistband 'chinked' against the metal of the chair I was sitting in as I leaned back.
"Suic-c-cide…I s-swear to you th-that it was fucking s-s-suicide." Vernon barely got it out between sobs.
"Doesn't change that you've the last claim to the Knightdale Fortune…by wizarding law at least…after Dudley's untimely death."
Now that death I had known about. It had happened years back, when I was running with Fabian's boys. Petunia's…I had not, not until this very night. Dudley, now fifteen years gone, a victim to drugs, madness, and, well, Fabian's bullet. Thankfully not one he had asked me to wield myself. And Petunia, now ten years dead, to suicide.
"I'm running out of options." I muttered darkly, glaring at the now waste of space before me.