Happy Birthday, From Voldemort

Harry looked at the window. The horned owl which he now knew to dread swooped in, dropping a letter on Harry's table. He muttered curses at the sender, and the spells cast upon the letter so that it had to be read. Knowing it would only be shooed away, the owl flew out the window again, out of sight. Harry picked up the blood red envelope and opened it.

Harry,

I killed a few muggles today, and several Mudbloods. I used Avada Kederva on them, so they died quickly. More and more are dying by the day. My followers grow in number. Why don't you stop me? Are you afraid? A young boy, Slytherin, is about to join us, though he seems very reluctant. My offer still stands. I don't know why though. I am so forgiving. Before I forget, I left a present for you. On the steps of your house with the muggles. Why won't you leave the muggles that the fool told you to stay with?

Happy Birthday, Lord Voldemort

Harry tossed it into the pile of letters that had accumulated in the past month, dread filling him. The taunts he had expected, but the present he had not. He had to find the 'present', though he feared what it was. His heart thumped hard against his chest as he tiptoed down the stairs, and opened the door. On the cold, hard steps, two bodies lay there, the bodies of Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. He brought the bodies inside, losing all emotion, then up to his room. He immediately sent a letter to the Weasley family, and asked if they could take them. He had to throw out several copies before he could find one without blots of water messing up the ink. George and Fred picked up the body, eyes red and puffy. They left quickly. Harry picked up his wand, mind set. Voldemort won. He broke Harrison James Potter, and he would know it through the bond that they had. Pointing it to his head, he said the magic words. "Avada Kederva." A wave of green light blasted him, and all was black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry opened his eyes. Dang it, he thought. He felt for his glasses, no longer on his face. Slipping them on, he looked for his wand. It was on the table on his right. Round two, he thought grimly. As he reached for his wand he heard someone cough from behind him,. Turning, he saw it was...Uncle Vernon? Uncle Vernon frowned at him. Did the ministry contact him? Was he expelled?

"Some people, of... your kind contacted us. Said you weren't expelled. Something about an evil lord, and his, um, wish for your death. Petunia was in tears when she found you, she'll be glad you're awake." He tried to sound rude. "Now why don't you tell me why you put that killing curse on yourself."

Harry told his Uncle about everything that had happened ever since the World Cup, up until the deaths of his best friend. Vernon's eyes sent an encouraging message, and he patted Harry on the back in a parental way at the points when Harry started crying.

Vernon sighed. "They suggested I take your wand from you, but perhaps you should keep it. And don't make me take that wand from you, I don't want to get you killed because you don't have one and Voldewart, or whatever his name was, comes to kill you." Turning around, Vernon Dursley walked out the door. Harry put his hand on his wand, grasped it tightly, then let go. Maybe Voldie...wart wouldn't win that easily. They wouldn't have wanted that.