Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Written for auction prompt - Avada Kedavra
Word Count - 303
Best Served Cold
He tried to tell himself that revenge was for the weak. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't the kind of person to torture someone, just because once upon a time, they'd tortured him.
But he couldn't let it slide. He couldn't pretend that he didn't ache to hear their screams and pleas for mercy. He couldn't make his fingers stop itching towards his wand whenever they crossed his mind.
…
Vernon and Petunia Dursley were happy. Their life had long since settled into a nice normal pattern, and they had no fear of that world impeaching on their lives again.
Dudley was away at University, Vernon was up for a promotion at work, and Petunia was back to her happy gossipy self.
When the doorbell rang, neither of them knew that their lives were about to change forever.
Or end forever.
…
Harry told himself he'd tried to stay away, but he was almost trembling with anticipation when he rang the doorbell.
His lips tilted up into a smirk when Petunia answered the door to a young man in a suit that she didn't recognise, and he followed her inside with a spring in his step.
As his spell masking his identity faded away, he listened to Vernon's yells with pleasure. With a flick of his wand, he yells turned to screams and he revelled in it.
For every punch, taunt and insult he'd suffered in his childhood, he took a moment of pain from Vernon Dursley, until he was an unrecognisable mess, slumped on the carpet.
Petunia had stood, frozen in the corner, tears sliding down her cheeks.
"Harry," she whispered, when he turned his attention to her. "I'm sorry."
His head tilted to the side, eyeing her for a moment, his green eyes shining. "As am I. Avada Kedavra!"