Ambiguity

Title: Ambiguity

Summary: Harry Potter wants to learn about his family. Problem is no one tells him much of anything. Therefore, a disgruntled Harry starts looking for answers, but will he like what he discovers?

I do not own Harry Potter.

---

"By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes.

Open, locks,

Whoever knocks!"

-William Shakespeare, "Macbeth", Act 4 scene 1

---

Prologue: Secrets?

Happy birthday to me... Harry Potter's lips curled into a vague smile as he stared at the makeshift calendar on the wall. Due to the OWLs, there was not any homework, and nobody was sending him any letters. Dumbledore's orders. His relatives ignored him more than usual, and his cousin was too terrified of him to be in the same room (the last time he went in the kitchen while the Dursleys were having breakfast, Dudley had given a high-pitched squeal that would put any swine to shame), so no chores for him.

Not for the first time that summer, Harry wondered if he could kill himself. It wouldn't take much, he thought... just go downstairs and take one of Aunt Petunia's knives and--he cut that thought before he could finish it. It probably wouldn't work, anyway.

Voldemort. Kill or be killed... Stupid-arse prophecy. Marking him as Tom Riddle's equal.

Neville, you lucky bastard.

Harry rolled over on his narrow 'bed', re-resting his head on the damp pillow that smelled slightly of mold. Everything was a bit dusty and dirty in the smallest bedroom, not that Harry cared. Petunia probably didn't clean a damn thing in this room in fear of being contaminated by his 'freakishness' or something. Poor Petunia, having a freakish sister being blown up and an equally freakish nephew dumped on her doorstep soon after. Poor, poor Petunia. It was probably wrong to think of his only living blood relatives like that, but Harry truly wished she would just die. If she'd die, he'd probably get drunk (partly out of celebration, partly out of guilt, thinking he would had something to do with her death), piss on her gravestone, and shout "Who's the freak now, bitch?!" Like Petunia Dursley had ever cared about her nephew.

Moreover, if he died before her, well, he would save a nice seat in hell for her and happily torture her with his freakishness for eternity.

Laying on that narrow 'bed' with not much to do, he'd been sizing up his life and decided that it...well, it sucked. And after sizing it up a little more, he realized that everything that generally sucked in his life was somehow related to Dumbledore.

However, should he that surprised? Dumbledore had power in the wizarding world, and a lot of it. He was a symbol of wisdom, an undisputed advisor that seemed to have his nose in a lot of things. He was just a Headmaster of a damn school, not his guardian! He was almost sure that his parents wouldn't have wanted him left with the Dursleys.

In fact, Harry thought, he didn't know much about his parents except the basics, and nothing about his grandparents at all!

Nothing was adding up.

Why all the secrecy?

---