Title: Tough Act
Author: Izzy
Pairing: DMHP (minor/eventual)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: not mine…
Warnings: slash, dark!Harry, Slytherin!Harry
Prologue
On a beautiful Monday morning at 5:30 am, an alarm could be heard in the pre-dawn light. The source of the offending sound was a small white alarm clock in the master bedroom of number four, Private Drive. Vernon Dursley's hand popped out from under the covers and beat the small white clock into silence. Slowly, he pealed back the warm comforter and made his way to the bathroom to prepare himself for work.
"...Bloody morning... I hate Mondays..." he muttered as he tried to be as quiet as possible as he made his way down the hall to the bathroom.
Vernon showered, brushed his teeth and shaved. He didn't notice a light brown barn owl fly past the window with what looked like a letter clasped in its beak. As the sun rose in the sky, the sound of a crying child and running feat echoed through the house. Vernon straightened his tie and made his way to the kitchen for a quick breakfast before he left for work. Petunia, Vernon's wife, was in the kitchen, feeding their son, Dudley, who refused to make the task easy.
After a quick meal, Vernon kissed his wife and son goodbye. Dudley pointed out the window and said something that was distorted by the food in his mouth. Many owls flew in the sky. This was not an every day occurrence. Vernon decided the best thing to do would be to ignore it.
Vernon grabbed his briefcase, coat, and hat and opened the door. The sight that greeted him was most unexpected and stopped him in his tracks. On the doorstep, wrapped in warm blankets, was an infant with raven hair and a cut on his forehead. Petunia walked towards the door to find out why her husband had stopped dead in his tracks. Turning her head to where her husband was looking, she gasped.
"It... it can't be," she said.
The child opened his eyes. Vernon and Petunia looked down into the glowing, emerald-green eyes of their nephew. Petunia bent down to pick up a piece of parchment with a red seal that was pinned to the blanket that the child was wrapped in.
"I bloody hate Mondays," Vernon said as he read over his wife's shoulder.