Vernon lowered his newspaper and followed his wife's gaze.
What was this woman on about? Vernon grunted first. He turned around a little and looked at the doorway.
"What are you on about, Petunia? There's nothin...." Vernon's words trailed off as his eyes caught sight of a man standing there.
This. Vernon's expression changed.
This was no other than his good-for-nothing nephew. Harry Potter.
The room fell into silence. Dudley, oblivious to the sudden tension, continued watching the television, unaware of the unexpected guest in the room.
Aunt Petunia, her hands trembling, finally managed to speak. "V-Vernon, it's him. It's Harry!"
Vernon's face contorted in a mix of anger and disbelief. "Harry? What in the blazes is he doing here?"
Dudley was about to get angry at his parents. He was watching the damn TV. Could they not be quiet for a minute? Then he caught the name his mother spoke.
"Harry."
Dudley turned away from the television and looked behind. There indeed, just like her mother said, stood Harry.
Aunt Petunia was initially stunned by his appearance, but the shock was brief.
She shot Harry a venomous glare. "You dare to show your face here after what you have done? What madness brought you back to our doorstep?"
Vernon slapped the newspaper on the table and got up. "I've heard the rumors, boy. You're some kind of killer, ain't you? A danger to society, that's what they say. And now you come waltzing back here, disrupting our lives. Well, I won't have it!"
Dudley was next as he put on a mocking tone. "Yeah, you think you're some big-shot wizard, huh? Well, we don't need your kind around here. You're not scary to me!"
Harry watched as Dudley rose from the sofa and approached him. The look on his face was one that Harry remembered too well. Harry had seen it many times when Dudley bullied him.
Still, Harry did not have time to react as, with a menacing scowl, Dudley threw a punch aimed at Harry's stomach.
The punch landed with a dull thud, and Harry staggered backward, momentarily in pain.
"Always remember, Potter, you're nothing. A weakling and an orphan. No one cares about you."
Dudley's taunts continued, each insult a reminder of the years of mistreatment. "You think you're special, but you're just a freak. Nobody wanted you, not even your own parents. Look where you are now... a burden wherever you go."
As if that was not enough, Petunia joined the verbal assault. "Your mother was a fool, just like you. Associating with those freaks. It's no wonder she ended up dead. A pathetic waste of a life."
Vernon, his face twisted in rage, added his own venom to the mix. "Your mother, a bitch who thought she was better than us. She got what she deserved. And now you, the stain she left behind, come back to torment us. I won't stand for it!"
Harry, his patience wearing thin, clenched his fists as he felt the searing anger bubbling within him. The insults about his mother cut deep, reopening wounds that had never fully healed.
His eyes turned dark. He could support any insult against himself. But not against his mother.
"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that!" Harry spat.
But before Harry could retaliate further, Dudley, prompted by his parents' hostility, unleashed another punch. This one struck Harry square in the jaw, the force of the blow sending him sprawling backward.
His jaw throbbed, and a trickle of blood ran down his lip. At that moment, Voldemort's voice appeared in his mind. "Remember the pain, Harry. Use it to avenge your parents."
Vernon, satisfied with Dudley's physical assault, raised a hand, signaling for a pause. "That's enough, Dudley. We'll deal with this... wizard, as we see fit. No need to dirty our hands further."
Dudley wanted to continue, to show this weak boy who was the boss here. Still, he decided to listen to his father and stepped back.
Then came the final verbal attack from Aunt Petunia. "Your mother, Lily, always thought she was better than us. She walked around with those wizards, thinking she was something special. Maybe she was a whore, who knows how many wizards she had under her pants."
Petunia's eyes glinted with malicious satisfaction as she continued, "She got what she deserved in the end. Maybe if she had been dead way before, there would have been peace in our world."
"Enough!" Harry, his eyes ablaze with fury, interrupted the Dursleys with a voice that cut through the oppressive atmosphere.
"To think, for a second, I had a change of heart. When I looked at you, I thought that you were, after all, my mother's sister." Harry admitted.
Harry, his patience exhausted, felt the spark of rage surge into a blazing inferno. "But no, you are not anything like her. You wish that she were dead much sooner. Voldemort is right. You muggles are a disease to us."
How could she act like this? How could someone hate her own sister so much that she would wish her dead? Voldemort was indeed right. As long as these muggles remain, the world will never know peace.
The faint innocence, the remaining goodwill inside Harry, died at that moment.
He reached into his pocket, his fingers closed around the smooth surface of his wand, the tool that had become an extension of his will.
With a swift motion, Harry drew his wand and pointed it directly at Petunia. The room fell silent as if time had slowed down. Harry loved the look he saw on their faces.
He saw Aunt Petunia's eyes widen. Vernon, his face reddening with anger, struggled to find words. The best was Dudley. He took a step back. The look of victory on his face, the satisfaction of beating Harry, disappeared.
Harry saw that Petunia's lips moved. She wanted to say something. Did she want to beg now? Or was she going to insult his mom again?
Whatever it was, it did not matter now.
Then the boiling anger in Harry erupted. It was time to end this.
Avada Kedavra.