Warnings: murder, suicide, implied child abuse, brainwashing.

An Eye for an Eye

1st November 1981

The kitchen was chilly and the sky outside still dark at half-six in the morning. November promised to be as miserably grey as October had been. Petunia yawned as she shuffled over to unlatch the front door, hoping that the paper had been delivered. She pulled it open and her jaw dropped in surprise.

Someone had left a baby on her doorstep.

With a suspicious glance down the street, Petunia swept up the child. It barely stirred. She slammed the door shut and rested against it for a moment, her heart pounding.

Who would leave a baby on a doorstep?

She deposited the baby on the kitchen table and stared at it. Its dark mop of hair made her stomach grumble with nerves. Tucked into the baby's blanket was a letter on peculiarly browned paper.

She would recognise parchment anywhere.

"Oh lord," she muttered. With resignation, she snatched up the letter and began to read.

When she was done, Petunia stared down at her sister's child and wished she could place him back on the doorstep and have him disappear in the same way he'd arrived. Apparently, his presence would provide some form of protection from those that would wish her harm in the magical world.

Petunia wasn't an idiot. Presumably, that protection worked both ways. Albus Dumbledore had dumped her with a child in order to protect him from the murderous followers of the man who'd killed her sister. She doubted he actually cared whether Petunia lived or died.

So distracted was she, Vernon stumbling into the kitchen took her by complete surprise.

"What — is — that," he hissed, staring down at the child.

The boy woke, stirring at the noise.

"That," Petunia said, "is Harry Potter."

2nd March 1986

The Leaky Cauldron was just as vile as Petunia remembered from her teenage years. Harry and she were dressed in smart, normal clothing. Sadly, they stood out like a sore thumb when compared to the weird patrons of the pub. She strode up to the bartender, ignoring the stares.

"Kindly open the doors to the alley," she requested.

"No wand, luv?"

"Squib," Petunia lied. "But Henry here's a wizard."

"Bit young for Hogwarts," the bartender said, but made his way to the back. Petunia followed, doing her best not to sneer at the filthy conditions.

The bartender tapped his wand on the bricks, just as Petunia remembered him doing when Lily had needed to collect her school equipment. She thanked him and hurried Harry along with her into the alley.

"Don't stare like a commoner," she snapped when she noticed him gawking at the stalls.

Harry stiffened, averting his gaze.

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia."

"Do you remember the rules?"

He looked up at her with earnest green eyes barely hidden behind his glasses.

"No staring, no questions, no exploring," he repeated. "Tell no one who I am and fit in with the crowd."

He glanced around. "Am I going to have to get a robe?"

Much to Petunia's distaste, it appeared that if they were to fit in with the other denizens of the alley, they both would have to get robes, ugly as they were.

"Yes," she snapped. "Now come along."

She led him to the bank and tried her best not to look at the gross little men — Goblins, Lily had told her once — that ran it. They exchanged pounds for Galleons and Sickles and Knuts.

At six, Petunia deemed Harry old enough to visit the wizarding world. She'd already told him the truth about magic and his parents. He knew the only reason she was looking after him was so that he could live to destroy the world that had stolen away her sister and ruined Petunia's life.

Petunia blamed the wizarding world for a lot of things; Lily leaving the Evans family and marrying that foolish Potter boy, Lily's dying, Vernon leaving her to raise Lily's horrid child alone after not even giving her one of her own… and she placed that blame at the feet of one man: Dumbledore. Petunia loathed him with all her heart. She made sure Harry knew it.

While in the alley, they got fitted for robes and then Petunia took them to the bookshop, curious to see what rot they'd come up with to explain Lily's death.

Once she'd searched out the texts on modern history and was looking to leave, Harry came to her with piles of books. She eyed them critically.

"These had better all be useful," she warned him. "Else it's the cupboard for you."

Harry stared at her for a long moment, then swallowed. "Yes, Aunt Petunia," he answered, ducking his head.

She pretended not to notice when he slid one book from the pile and tucked it back into the bookshelf, 'Quidditch' something or other. He was learning.

1st September 1991

The whistle of the scarlet Hogwarts Express made Petunia jump. Harry was standing to attention by her side, watching the chaos with wide eyes. He was tall for his age, wiry, if a bit on the skinny side. His robes were functional, just like his suitcase, and he had a handgun holstered at his waist that she'd spent the last two years teaching him how to shoot.

"Now, which house are you aiming for?"

"Hufflepuff," Harry said, meeting her gaze. His green eyes were like a punch to the gut.

"And why's that?" She had drilled the answer into him a thousand times.

"Because I'm loyal only to you," he answered dutifully. Petunia nodded, satisfied.

"Off with you, then," Petunia said. Yet another Evans was being stolen by the wizarding world — it made her sick. She tucked her clenched fists into her coat pockets.

Abruptly, Harry hugged her tightly. "Love you, Aunt Petunia," he said, so quickly she wondered if she'd imagined it. Then he raced for the train, suitcase dragging behind him.

Petunia stared after him.

What on earth had given him that idea? She knew she'd allowed him to spend too much time watching TV.

For a moment, guilt welled up inside her. She'd never treated Harry with any kindness at all. Then she hardened her heart. Harry was the instrument of her revenge against the world that had stolen Lily away; nothing more.

26th January 1992

There was something strange about Harry Potter. Severus stared into the fireplace, watching the flames lick at the sooty grate. He wasn't the only one to find the child peculiarly quiet, with those big, knowing. green eyes that never failed to remind him of Lily; the other professors agreed.

Potters were always up to no good and Harry Potter was undoubtedly no different.

Severus twitched, one of his many wards pinging: a student had broken into his office, the little bugger. He stormed down the corridor.

"I'll have you expelled for this," Severus growled, bursting into the room. Of course, Albus would overrule his threat, but Potter wasn't to know that.

The room appeared to be empty, but Severus knew differently. The wards had alerted him to a first-year intruder — who else could it be?

He held his wand high, Lumos illuminating the gloom. His office was in order, not a single piece of parchment or ingredient out of place.

"Potter?" he snapped. "Come out, Potter, right this instant."

The gunshots were deafening. They would have been loud enough to wake the entire castle, had Severus not used a two-way Silencing Charm on his office. He staggered back against the wall, dropping his wand. The shadows danced as the Lumos flickered and faded.

He looked down at his chest and the dark blood seeping into his robes. He felt… numb.

Severus slid down the wall, clutching at his wounds. He took a breath and coughed up blood. The room began to darken. He blinked, unable to believe that after all he'd survived, a Muggle weapon had killed him.

The last thing Severus Snape saw was a pair of shining green eyes.

3rd August 1994

"... and that was Celestina Warbeck's 'A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love'. Up next, the news with Violet."

"Thank you, Freddie! It's six o'clock and the notorious 'Heartbreaker' has struck again…"

"Oh, turn that rubbish off," Molly snapped, talking over the radio. Arthur glanced over at her and turned the volume down.

"It's important, Mollywobbles," he said, shuffling closer to listen. Molly watched Ron and Ginny playing about on broomsticks from the window as she chopped carrots for dinner.

"...found dead in her home with three pieces of metal shrapnel the Muggles call 'bullets' in her chest. Now, we've a specialist with us today who will explain to us exactly what a serial killer is. Please welcome Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the DMLE's finest."

"Thank you, Violet…"

Kingsley was on a mission for the Order, attempting to spread awareness of what exactly a Muggle 'gun' was. She didn't think it would achieve much.

"... stop you there for a moment, Kingsley. Can you explain to our listeners what a 'gunshot wound' is?"

"Certainly. The Muggles have created a device that projects bullets, small lumps of metal, using gunpowder..."

Molly huffed. Sometimes it seemed unbelievable that there was actually a serial killer on the loose using Muggle weapons to murder witches and wizards.

"The world's a dangerous place, Molly," Arthur said. "First Remus, Black, and Pettigrew were found together in the Shrieking Shack, then Hagrid in Knockturn Alley…"

She knew he was right. Kingsley continued his lecture on blocking a gunshot.

"...a bullet travels faster than the average witch or wizard could attempt a Shield Charm, but a strong Protego should be effective at stopping bullets too."

"Thank you, Kingsley, for that useful advice. One last question, before you go: this 'Heartbreaker' has been plaguing Wizarding Britain for years…"

Death Eaters, Order members, and employees of the Ministry alike were being murdered by the 'Heartbreaker', or so the press liked to call the serial murderer. She looked up again to see Ginny dive sharply to snatch the Quaffle mid-fall. Her breath caught in her throat, but Ginny was fine, as always. All her children behaved as if they'd been born on a broomstick.

"I just don't understand why they do it," Molly muttered.

Arthur sighed. "As Kingsley said, there is no clear-cut 'why'. If there was, this murderer would be a damn sight easier to catch."

Molly tossed the vegetables into a pot on the stove, turning down the heat with a flick of her wand, letting it simmer while she started kneading dough for a loaf of bread.

"We can only hope that they go after someone powerful enough to stop them, next," Molly said.

24th June 1995

Lucius watched with disbelief as Harry Potter dived to the ground the moment Peter Pettigrew set him free from the gravestone and came up shooting.

Literally shooting; the boy had a Muggle gun in his hands. Three successive bangs and the Dark Lord staggered, before toppling to the ground.

"That was for my family!" the boy cried, before whirling on one foot. He took aim and moments later Avery was dead.

Another three bangs, and another… Lucius scrambled for his wand, even as the rest of his fellows began gathering themselves.

Mulciber tried to Apparate away; Lucius could have warned him against that. He screamed as he was splinched apart, the Dark Lord's ward preventing them from fleeing, even if he was dead, or dying, or half-alive.

"Crucio," Lucius hissed. The spell flew over Potter's shoulder as he ducked behind a grave, and only served to draw Potter's attention.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Lucius pinwheeled backward, toppling to the ground. He stared up at the night sky, bleeding out. The stars seemed distant, and the night grew darker and darker…

2nd October 1997

Alastor frowned at the newspaper in his hand. The front-page headline screamed at him from yesterday's edition:

MINISTER FOR MAGIC MURDERED!

HEARTBREAKER STRIKES AGAIN!

By Rita Skeeter

Cornelius Fudge was found tragically dead in his office in the early hours of Tuesday morning, with three gaping gunshot wounds in his chest! He is the forty-second victim in a spree of violent and senseless killings that have been plaguing the nation, all perpetrated by the notorious 'Heartbreaker'. As his grieving widow wept over his lifeless corpse…

He slipped the paper into an evidence bag. Lining the walls of Rita Skeeter's apartment was every front page article she'd ever written. They'd all have to come down and be send to the Magical Trace Investigators.

Alastor sighed. He knew the MTI wouldn't find a single thing. The 'Heartbreaker' had claimed their forty-third victim only a single day after their previous kill; they never left evidence. He glanced at Skeeter's body. Shacklebolt was running diagnostics, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's him," Shacklebolt said, sounding weary.

"Them," Alastor reminded him. "We don't know if they're male, female, elf, or bloody centaur."

He turned back before Shacklebolt could reel off the statistical likelihood that it was a man. He wasn't ruling anyone or anything out.

"Constant vigilance," he murmured. He began rifling through the paperwork on Skeeter's desk. There were countless notes on what looked to be an exposé on Dumbledore, a journal written in a shorthand someone else with the brain for it could decipher, and her calendar. He paused over the calendar and flicked it open.

No appointments for the day she'd been murdered, bar a trip to Godric's Hollow. Potter had been on his way to Godric's Hollow that morning, hadn't he? Perhaps he'd seen something.

Alastor swallowed as he remembered that he'd seen Potter at the Ministry the day before, too.

Potter — now there was an odd one. Far too quiet, with big eyes that seemed to hold the world in contempt for all that it had begrudged him. He'd not made many friends while at Hogwarts, so he'd heard.

Now he thought about it, Potter was exceptionally good at getting into places he had no right getting into. And there'd been that whole unsolved debacle at the end of his fourth year, not that Alastor knew much about it, as he'd been in a trunk for the entire year.

"Merlin's balls," he muttered. He jumped when someone clapped him on the shoulder, only to find Tonks frowning up at him.

"Wotcher, boss! You alright? You're awfully pale."

"When did you get here?" he asked. The tips of Tonks's hair turned pink, an indicator that she was worried.

"Just now. Came through the Floo from Hogwarts. Dumbledore's just catching up with Potter, then he's going to call an Order meeting."

There was a sick feeling in Alastor's stomach, a sense that he'd missed something that had been right under his nose the entire time. He gripped his staff and slammed it into the ground, stopping the quiet murmurs of his Aurors working.

"Tonks, go get Amelia Bones and any other able-bodied Auror you can find in the Ministry," he snapped. "Shacklebolt, Dawlish, you're with me." He jerked his head at the Floo. "To Hogwarts."

He ignored the wide-eyed stares of his subordinates and limped toward the fireplace. If he was wrong, there'd be hell to pay…

But Alastor Moody was rarely wrong.

The Headmaster's Office...

Harry stared at the man who was responsible for everything that had gone wrong in his life and barely held back a smile. Dumbledore was old; his time had come.

Harry was going to help him on his way.

"You must not grieve your parents too much, Harry, for it does not do to dwell…" Dumbledore was saying. Harry tuned him out and ran the pad of his thumb over the trigger button held tightly in his fist.

Everything Harry had done, he'd done for Aunt Petunia.

She'd helped him realise that it was Dumbledore's fault that his parents were dead. It was Dumbledore's fault that Harry could not have a normal childhood, but instead had to train until his hands bled. It was Dumbledore's fault that Petunia could not love him, for when Dumbledore had left Harry on her doorstep he'd ruined his aunt's life. He swallowed back the guilt he felt and focused on his hatred of the man before him.

"Harry, are you listening?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he focused on his determination to prove his aunt proud. Even though he was tainted by the magic in his blood, Harry would show her that he could be dutiful, that he could get the revenge she dreamed of, that he would do it all for her.

He'd killed so many people; his hands were drenched in blood. What was one or two more? The wizarding world was in chaos, the Ministry falling apart, and magical Britain was on the edge of revolt. They just needed a little something extra to tip them over...

"Albus!"

Mad-Eye Moody burst into Dumbledore's office through the Floo, shortly followed by Kingsley Shacklebolt. While Moody began to hiss at Dumbledore, Harry watched them neutrally. It was too late for them to stop him now.

"Alastor, these wild accusations must stop!" Dumbledore roared when Amelia Bones and several Ministry Aurors came racing out the fireplace, wands held high, bemused expressions upon their faces.

Moody turned to Harry, a fierce, if wary expression upon his face.

"Accio!" Moody snapped.

Harry's Glock 25 wrenched itself free from its hidden shoulder holster and clattered to the floor at Moody's feet. The room fell deathly silent.

"Harry?" Dumbledore croaked.

Harry smiled. He closed his eyes and thought of Aunt Petunia and hoped she would be happy.

He pressed the trigger. A heartbeat later, the bomb he wore beneath his robe exploded, annihilating Dumbledore's office and everyone within it.

3rd October 1997

Petunia eyed the wizarding paper that she'd deigned to have delivered today.

On the front page were images of Hogwarts Castle decimated by an explosion. 'DOZENS DEAD!' the headline screamed.

The paper speculated that the explosion had been caused by a creature called a Blibbering Humdinger.

Petunia smiled and sipped at her tea. She knew better.

"Well done, Harry," she said and toasted him with her teacup.

Revenge was hers.

Word Count: 3026 (as per Google Docs)

QLFC Keeper Prompt — Ashwinder: write about someone who seeks revenge and its consequences.

Hogwarts Assignment # 8 Performing Arts Task 4: write about someone who wants to be loved and goes about it the wrong way.

Character Appreciation 26. (location) Hogwarts

Buttons (object) 3. Gunpowder, (word) 2. Explosion

Ami's Audio Admirations 4. write about someone doing the wrong thing for the right reason.

Sophie's Shelf 5. write about someone dangerous.

Emy's Emporium 6. write about someone with a manipulative personality.

Lo's Lowdown 5. (plot point) Brainwashing

Bex's Basement 11. write about someone keeping secrets.

Hard Pinata: Potter

FBAWTFT (creature) 37. corpse, (location) 14. write about a character with a floral name

Many thanks to Emmeebee and Emilyia Wolfe for beta-ing.