Dudley had stopped screaming. He lay whimpering on the floor, slowly rocking on his back. Vernon Dursley sat in his chair, looking at the ceiling. Petunia was on the couch, all the muscles in her body rigid while her eyes darted around the room.

"There we go." Harry said, getting up from where he had been sitting next to Dudley. "I still need to work on my focus and control, but I am getting the hang of it."

Harry walked over to Petunia, and snapped his finger in front of her face. She zeroed in on him and began to shake as much as her stiff body could allow.

"You still with us?" asked Harry. "Good." Petunia's muscles all slacked at once and she flopped face first onto the couch. Her arms began to shake as her legs randomly kicked out behind her. Tears fell from her face as she was finally able to voice her fear and anger. Sobs wracked her body as she struggled to breathe, muscles contracting randomly.

"Why?" Several minutes had passed since she regained control of herself. Harry looked up from where he had been inspecting Vernon. Sweat soaked through the collar on Vernon's shirt and his fingers gripped the chair tightly.

"Aunt Petunia, you should know why." He ambled his way towards her, stepping over the still whimpering form of Dudley.

"I wanted to repay you for your kindness over the years. For all the meals you gave me, for the clothes on my back." Harry stood looking down at Petunia. She flinched away as he drew closer, but Harry grabbed her head with his left arm. Angling her face towards him, Harry stared into her eyes.

"I especially wanted to repay the kindness of shoving me in a cupboard under the stairs for eleven years." Blue lines of magic began to curl down his right arm. The magic skittered over his skin before wrapping around his hand. Petunia cried as the magic outlined the lines in the palm of his hand and each swirl on his fingers. Behind Harry, she could see Vernon start to shake and sweat. Blood was leaking from his tear ducts and down the sides of his face.

Harry followed her gaze and chuckled. "I wondered if that vein would ever pop. Merlin knows I've seen it enough times." His eyes turned back to her, a predatory grin settling on his face. The magic in his hands began to pour into her as he gripped her. The edges of her vision darkened as a heavy weight settled on her chest and limbs. As blackness consumed her sight, the last thing she saw were glowing green eyes.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Don't bother getting up Vernon." Harry said as he cracked his back, looking around to observe his handiwork. The blood that had been slowly dripping from Vernon's face was cooling with his body. Petunia lay on the couch clutching at her chest, breathing rapidly. Her eyes darted wildly around, taking in nothing. Harry patted her shoulder, saying "It's all in your head."

Sounds of grunting caught his attention. Dudley was pulling himself towards to the door.

"You know Dudley," Harry said, "It would be easier to use your legs." Within Dudley's mind, something clicked. Dudley shakily stood up, and walked towards the door. The closer he got, the faster he moved. By the time he exited the house, he was jogging. As he turned the corner around the block, he was running. Harry knew that after a few minutes, Dudley would be at a full-on sprint. The compulsion he had shoved into his cousin's mind required him to be moving.

Wondering how long Dudley would be running, and deciding that 'til he died' was perfectly acceptable, Harry grabbed his trunk. He was glad he packed beforehand. He wanted to spend as little time as possible in Number 4 Privet Drive. Too many memories. Too few good ones.

Sun low in the sky, Harry strolled leisurely down the road with his trunk in hand. He was puzzling over where he should start looking Voldemort's followers when he heard his name being called. A short, squat man was jogging up to him. Harry recalled that this was Mundungus Fletcher. A member of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry didn't trust him.

"'Arry! What. . ." Dung stopped to catch his breath, bent over with his hands on his knees, ". . . Where are you headed 'Arry? You need to be at Privet Drive, where it's safe."

"I suppose it's safe now," said Harry, scratching his chin, "But I don't plan on sleeping near a corpse and a coma patient."

"What?" Mundungus asked, bewildered. Harry's hands shot out and grabbed Mundungus' head before Dung could react. Magic streaked down Harry's arms into Dung's head and Harry's eyes took on a green glow. Dung felt a presence surround him and the edges of his vision got dark. Around him, colors seemed to bleed out, becoming muted and subdued, except for Harry's eyes. The bright green light poured out and envelope Mundungus. He couldn't move as he felt Harry stroll through his mind.

"Oh Merlin," Dung ground out. As memories and thoughts flew around, Harry focused on places. Hogwarts, The Leaky Cauldron, Grimmauld place. Then Dung's personal bolt holes and storage spots. Memories of the things Mundungus had nicked flew past and Harry thought he recognized Kreacher losing his grip on a locket.

"Urgh." Dung groaned as he slumped to the ground, out of Harry's grip. Thinking straight was impossible. His mind felt like it had been split in half. Hands trembling, he drew his wand from his back pocket. It clattered on the pavement, away from his twitching hands.

Harry Potter observed him, sitting on top of his trunk and tapping it with his fingers.

Tap Tap Tap

Dung slowly crawled towards his wand, wincing in pain.

Tap Tap Tap

Something must have happened to the boy, he had to warn Dumbledore!

Tap Tap Tap

His scrabbling for his wand only pushed it farther away. Its slow rolling mocked him.

TAP TAP TAP

If he could just signal the Order.

TAP

Dung's fingers had just skimmed over his wand when a foot came down on his hand. The pain didn't even register as Harry loomed over Dung, a blank expression on his face.

"You're going to help me send a message."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore awoke to the sound of Fawkes screeching. As he gathered himself up from his chair, he tried to ascertain what had set Fawkes off. Looking around his office, Albus saw smoke coming from the top of his desk and one of his bookshelves. He dispelled the smoke with his wand, and looked for the fire.

"Fawkes, did your burning day come early?" He asked the phoenix that was sitting on a perch next to his desk. Fawkes replied with a negative trill, gesturing towards his collection of gadgets.

"Oh dear," Said Albus, sitting down and grabbing a gizmo that should be clicking quietly. He waved his wand over the silent cube that monitored the wards around Privet Drive. It was made of silver, with faint etchings of magical creatures on its sides. The cube's unresponsiveness to Albus' spell sent a shiver up his spine. There were no more wards around Number 4 Privet Drive. Any wizard could find it now.

Opening one of the many drawers in his desk, Albus pulled a chocolate frog card. Walking towards the shelf that had been smoking, he cast a spell at it while saying to the card, "Minerva, something has happened."

Minerva McGonagall's face swam into view, "Albus? What's wrong?"

"I fear something has happened to Harry," Albus said, a sense of unease growing as the spells confirmed that the monitoring device on the status of Harry's home came back blank. "Tell Moody to meet me at Privet Drive."

McGonagall nodded and her face faded into the background of the card. Albus spoke to the card again "Remus Lupin." The card grew smoky, and scratching was heard before Remus' face appeared.

"Harry is in trouble," Albus said, cutting off Remus. "Meet me in Little Winging, Surrey." Albus cut the connection and focused. Being the Headmaster did have its perks. With a crack, he disappeared from his office.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Albus sat at the end of the table in Grimmauld place, holding the small silver cube in his hands. The rest of the order was still getting over their shock at what was found at Number 4 Privet Drive. More unsettling though was the man lying in the medical ward at Hogwarts. Moody had discovered Mundungus Fletcher a short ways away from the house. Dung had been unresponsive, until he saw Dumbledore. He had lunged forward, grabbing Albus' robes. "All your fault, could have stopped this." Over and over Mundungus repeated this. Moody finally stunned him.

They were unable to detect or track who had done it. Magic hung thick in the house, specifically the living room, but no one had been able to identify it. Albus checked the records in the Ministry of Magic, but there had been no underage magic reportedly cast at Privet Drive. If anyone else had been there instead of Mundungus Fletcher, would the outcome had been different? Or would there still be someone in a hospital bed?

Dumbledore's musings were cut short as the last of the Order arrived. The Weasleys. Late as usual.

"As you may have heard," Albus said, standing and setting the now defunct device down. "Harry's home was attacked. The muggles he lived with were injured or killed, and Harry has not been found."

"Was it Death Eaters?" Remus asked, worry etched on his face. The loss of his friends weighed heavily on the werewolf's heart. He couldn't forgive himself if something happened to James son.

"Dunno," Moody ground out, "Not a signature we had on file." The grizzled aurors face betrayed nothing, both his eyes set on Dumbledore.

"There wasn't a Dark Mark." Sniffled Hermione. Tears still streaked down her face while Ron awkwardly held onto her.

"They would have let us know if it was Death Eaters." Ron said, wincing as Hermione buried her face in his shoulder. "Would have crowed it from the roofs."

Moody grunted in agreement. "Whoever they are," He said, "They are not a fan of muggles."

Remus looked sharply at Moody, asking, "What makes you say that?"

Moody's blue eye spun around the room, while his normal eye remained on Albus. "The muggles were tortured with what looked like the Unforgivables." He said.

"Were they?" Asked Hermione, looking up.

"Not quite." Said Albus, sitting down in his chair. He seemed to deflate into himself, looking less like a legendary wizard and more like the hundred plus years old he really was. "Magic hung in the air, almost tangible, but we could ascertain no spells were cast. Whatever happened, happened without a wand."

Silence greeted this statement.

Author's Notes:

This has been floating around my head for awhile. 3 years almost. Decided to finally post it, see what the response is. It will get much darker, and I will be posting it on AO3 in case it gets taken down here.