Harry Potter- The New Prophecy

The Dursley's Demise

Dead. They were dead. It was too much for Harry to take in. First the mass break-out at Azkaban, now the murder of his dreadful relatives, it was like his life was falling apart.

"We believe that they may have been looking for you." Kingsley said. "And when they didn't find you, they..."

"Killed them." Harry choked out. He felt his wife's arm around him but made no effort to return the contact. His aunt and uncle were dead, and he couldn't help but feel responsible. "But I haven't lived there for years." It didn't make sense.

"It is likely that they believed your aunt and uncle would know your whereabouts and give away your location."

Harry snorted. They definitely would have given away his whereabouts, had they known where he lived. They would have served him straight to Voldemort without a second thought if it meant saving themselves. But his aunt and uncle had no idea where he lived.

"Who?" He asked after a moment of silence. "Who was there when it happened?"

Kingsley sighed. "I don't know for sure. I haven't been over there yet. I just heard the news, myself."

A glimmer of hope shone in Harry's eyes. "So they might not be dead? Maybe they weren't even home. Maybe..."

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry, but the dark mark was discovered over their house. You know what that means."

Harry sighed. He did know what that meant. It meant someone had died. There was no explanation for who it could have been, other than his aunt and uncle. Then another thought crossed his mind, and if possible, he felt even more sick. "Dudley." He gasped. "It was Saturday. He remembered his cousin mentioning Saturday visits at his parents house when the two had bumped into each other on the streets. He wasted no time getting up and rushing out the door before apparating to his childhood home.

Harry appeared in front of Number 4 Privet Drive, and his heart nearly stopped. Although faded, there was no mistaking the dark mark that hung above his aunt and uncle's very normal house. A few pops sounded from behind him, and Harry briefly turned around. It was no surprise that Ron and Hermione had followed him here, as well as Kingsley.

"Harry..." Hermione began.

Harry ignored his friend as he rushed forward, barging through the big hole where the door once stood. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't help but think about how pissed his aunt and uncle would be at the destruction.

The house was in ruins. The once neat and tidy living room, which his aunt had been so proud of, was covered in rubble. Broken picture frames littered the floor. Most were pictures of Dudley as a child, but one stood out in particular. A picture of Dudley and his wife, along with their young daughter, Grace. Harry had never actually met Dudley's wife and daughter, despite his cousin's invitations for him to come over for dinner, but he knew that she was about the same age as James.

As he made his way through the hall, he briefly stopped in front of his old cupboard. Like the front door, the small door to the cupboard was also blown off. Memories of being trapped inside rushed through his head. It had been many years since he had seen this house or his cupboard, but he could still picture it like the back of his hand. The tear-stained pillow, which had been missing half its stuffing, and the filthy mattress. The broken army men that had once belonged to Dudley. All these things were gone now, and the cupboard held no signs that a child had once lived there. There were no signs, that is, except for the small blood stain on the floor of the cupboard from when he stepped on broken glass.

Just looking at the cupboard made him feel claustrophobic. Tearing his eyes away, Harry made his way into the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, this room held no sentimental value for him. He thought about the time his uncle pushed his hand onto the hot stove as punishment for burning the bacon, and he felt sick to his stomach. His eyes landed on the screen door, and he briefly recalled his aunt Marge floating through it like a big balloon.