Dark Red Roots

Prologue

Now the Dursleys' were the most normal people you'd ever meet. Vernon, the father, went to work every day. Nine to five, providing for his family. Petunia was a stay at home mother with her five year old son, Dudley. But that's what everyone else knew. They didn't know however was the lone boy shoved under the stairs in what barely could be considered a cupboard.

His skin was two shades darker than could be considered tan but didn't hold the golden glow it was meant to. Dark mud brown hair hung around his face, sticking to each other from days of unpropper care. Scars and burns married his hands and forearms. His feet scabbed over with mud and blood from lack of shoes on hot asphalt.

The door to the tucked-away space flung open and a horse-like woman pulled the boy out and into the kitchen, "Get cooking, freak."

The boy did as commanded. Long ago learning never to talk back or question anything. Doing as he was told without thought. First was the bacon, then eggs, next susague, and finally pancakes. Each plate piled high. And not a crumb was his. If he was lucky, the mean man wouldn't hit him this morning. Or the Whale's offspring, the walrus, wouldn't shove him into a wall. Or better yet, the woman would forget about him and not give him the whole bloody house to clean.

Sadly it was none of the above. No he just happened to trip on his stool for cooking as he cleaned. The fall ended with a large clash as hot bacon grease flew from the pan onto the boy's legs. He didn't even let out a peep, not that it would be heard by the loud yells of outrage from the three at the table.

Dudley started crying because of the loud sound, while Patuna was looking at her, now deformed, pan. Vernon on the other hand looked livid. The boy curled in on himself, hoping to protect his organs. The first kick hit his arms. Then to his shins. One nicked his head. The boy didn't make a sound. No protest. No pain. Not even a gasp of surprise.

The boy opened his eyes after a long moment of break. In his eyesight was something silver and shiny. He knew what it was. Used it and was going to clean it. But he also knew they were dangerous. Aunt Petunia never let Dudley anywhere near them. When Vernon's meaty hands grabbed him, the boy grabbed the sharp knife.

Spinning around, he plunged the blade into Vernon's belly and pulled up. Vernon stuttered, unable to make a sound even as Petunia screamed. When the whale fell, the boy advanced on the horse. She turned to run only for a mass to fall on her. Little Dudley. The knife wielding boy didn't care as he rushed forward and stabbed his aunt repeatedly. Dudley wailed again. The boy always hated that wail. Taking one step more, he sliced the knife over the boy's throat. The sound cutting blissfully off.

In the silence the boy felt a grin start tugging at the corners of his lips. Blood was dripping from his clenched fingers. Taking a steading breath the boy started to think. He had to think quickly. He dropped the knife in the sink before going up and taking a long, long, long shower.

Washing away both the blood and weeks of grime. Exiting the shower, he looked at himself in the mirror for the first time. His hair wasn't a mud brown but an ebony black. Walking closer, he pulled his hair away to see his roots. Red. Dark red roots, stared back at him. Falling into the ebony black. His green eyes could outshine any emerald.

Turning to stare down at the dirty discarded clothes, the boy sneered at it. He wouldn't dare touch those things. Walking through the hall to Dudley's room, he searched to the deepest depth of the toy cluttered room. He found Dudley's smallest pair of pants. He'd get himself some clothes later.

Making his way back down the stairs, he snatched all the money in the house before packing his small school bag. He only had his sketchbook and pencils for now, but then he made many sandwiches and bottles of water. Now, what to do with his tormentors?

He stared hard at them, thinking of everything they did to him. It would be fitting if no one remembered them until the smell made people ask questions. But someone would come for them eventually. Suddenly a small flame started on each of the bodies. The boy jumped, startled. He'd just considered burning the house but.... Looks like he was burning it all to the ground.

With one last grin, the boy left private drive, number four. Never to return.

And so it Begins