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Nagato could remember clear as day when he was rudely woken up from his deep slumber by an unearthly, high-pitched scream from a horse-faced woman.

Of course, Harry did the most logical thing a baby could do, and he released a great wail from his lungs. The woman immediately panicked and picked the baby from the basket and swung the infant from side to side and shushing him. Harry immediately calmed down and was promptly returned to his basket.

Wait… basket? Why was he in a wicker basket in front of an ordinary looking house in an ordinary looking neighborhood? Who put him here? He had a lot of questions that he had no answers and the worry overwhelmed his mind that he unconsciously whimpered.

Then, last night's events went flashing back in his brain. He remembered his father easily killed by the snake-like man who reminded Nagato a little too much of Orochimaru. He remembered his mother, beautiful, kind and brave Lily Potter pleading to the Dark Lord to spare her son and how she sacrificed all of her love to defend her beloved was much like the first life he lived.

(Parents, dead, dead, dead. Lightning flashing, illuminating the Leaf insignia on the murderer's headband. Hot rage surging through his veins, and power, indomitable power released from his eyes, losing consciousness, blackness of oblivion, then light and finding four bodies in his house. All of them cold and lifeless. Dead, dead, dead.)

He had been so infuriated at that time, blinded by his anger, that he pushed every last bit of his meagre chakra reserves to a single attack. Shinra Tensei, he could remember repelling the mysterious green light with his most often-used jutsu. He could not remember anything after that because he fell unconscious. He was sleeping and enjoying his deep slumber when he was rudely woken up a surprised scream. He felt so tired and bone-weary, that he immediately went back to sleep.

The woman, one Petunia Dursley nee Evans, stretched her long neck to look around for nosy neighbors who might've heard her scream, luckily, the coast seems clear. As an excellent gossipmonger and peeper herself, she knows when anybody nearby is spying on her.

She noticed a letter tucked in the basket. She picked it up and briefly scanned its contents. The horse-faced woman glared at the baby. She did not know what to feel about this.

Petunia lifted the fresh milk bottles in one hand and a basket with a baby in another and went inside.

Ever since he could stand and walk and had a modicum of intelligence that he can show without freaking out the adults, Nagato or Harry could remember being tasked with the chores. Apparently, three and a half was a good age to put your unwanted, no good burden of a nephew to work normally not done by toddlers. Harry was expected to clean the house and meet Aunt Petunia's ridiculous standards, tend the garden even in scorching heat of the summer sun, cook the family's meals and get almost none of the food, do the laundry and fold the clothes, et cetera. All this was done, and he still slept in the cupboard under the stairs.

He actually half-liked the chores he was doing, especially gardening. Tending and nourishing plants was a calming and happy experience for the young Harry. In his mind, Harry would like to selfishly think that Aunt Petunia should be grateful for him that her flowerbeds were flourishing with colorful and healthy blooms. He hated it when neighbors or visitors would take one look at the beautiful lawn and praise the horse-faced woman for her "hard work".

Days in Privet Drive was… tolerable. He didn't like it, nor he outright hated it. He had a roof on his head, scraps of food and spiders for friends. Okay, the last one may be a bit depressing. Nagato frowned on the idea of putting a child in a cramped cupboard with nothing but dust mites and stray spiders for companions, but well, you get the idea that he had at least have his basic needs like food and shelter.

Nagato always wanted a family, something that he could call "loved one" because of blood. The Dursleys (well, Aunt Petunia and Dudley, at least) were related to him by blood, but he thought that his condition and treatment would hardly qualify as what to do with your family. He vehemently refused to call Vernon and Marge as relatives, they hardly qualified.

Vernon always tried to beat the "freakishness" out of him. Key word being, try. His punches were always slow and sloppy. Harry liked to think that his dear uncle knew how to punch because he was a big bully and beat weaker people when he was younger. Nagato would never give the man the satisfaction of being an abuser to his unwanted nephew. Marge had her dogs chase the child, but oddly enough, the child made friends with the fat woman's brutal dogs. This cemented her belief that Harry was a no-good son of a worthless freak bitch. Nagato almost almost terminated her because of what she said. There was no way Lily Potter was worthless! She sacrificed her life for him and Harry did not doubt that the redhaired woman loved him with all his heart. He could feel her protection embrace him like a warm blanket, comforting him in the worse nights (him locked up, and his gut grumbling and threatening to dissolve itself) in the Dursley house.

Dudley was a lost cause. He was a spoiled child, a concept that Nagato could not fathom until now. For him, childhood was running around Ame scouring for food and trying to survive day by day. Back then, in a world torn by war, one could hardly live a life like Dudley's (well, maybe the Daimyo and his cronies). He could not believe that horrible parenting like the one being done by the Dursleys could exist. Dudley's favorite victim was Harry. His gang's favorite pastime was a made-up game called Harry Hunting, which in Harry's part was a good practice for his speed and would've been a good exercise for Dudley.

Some days, he'd contemplate alone. He tried to reason with himself that he should be at least thankful to the Dursleys for providing a roof over his head (despite a cupboard could hardly be called a room) and the clothes on his back (despite Dudley's hand-me-downs four times his size could hardly qualify as garments). He made up his mind, so one day when he was seven…

"I know I'm not exactly welcomed in here. You won't admit it, but you hate me as your actions have proven so. So, I would make things easier for you, I would get out of here and never come back. You're not the family I deserve to have, but it doesn't change the fact that you are my relatives. I thank you for taking care of me for 6 years, even you were reluctant to do so. I also thank you for providing a roof over my head, although you just gave me a cupboard that is not the proper place for a child to grow. And also for the food I ate despite the fact that you just give the leftovers of my cousin like dog. I will not make things any more difficult for you. I am the little parasite that harms your normal lives. This might not be what exactly others want, but I believe that me getting out of this house will have mutual benefits for each other", he declared.

He had all his meagre clothes, his blanket, and some fruit that nobody in this house would eat in a light backpack that was surprise, surprise, used to be Dudley's

Vernon was more than happy to throw the freak out. His dear uncle even gave him a wad of cash so "you can take care of his bloody self before the Bobbies would throw you in the Juvenile Center where you could rot". Aunt Petunia seemed nervous for some reason, it was obvious in the way she casted glances at Harry's small, malnourished form. It was almost like she was scared of the prospect that he would not be in their custody anymore. Dudley was just trying to understand half of what Harry just said.

Surrey is the most wooded area in the whole of England. It was not difficult for Nagato to find a forest to sleep, he thought that it was better to sleep in a forest rather on the streets where people might find him and call Social Services. He didn't want to go to an orphanage, he'd heard of the terrible conditions in there. Vernon always threatened to drop him off to one of these places. For the first night, he slept on the cold soil with fallen leaves crunching underneath his back.

'Where would be a good place to get lost?', he thought. He officially was a runaway now, he wondered if somebody would find him. Those acquaintances of his parents, perhaps? No, if they knew, they would have taken Harry away from a neglectful home. He made up his mind and made a tentative plan. The next few years would be difficult, but he could survive. He knew it.

The next day, he got out of the forest and snuck onto one of the nearby houses to get a shower. He hadn't done infiltration in his life… ever. So, he was nervous when he tiptoed his way through the sleeping family's house and used their bathroom. After a quick shower and shunshin-ing the hell out of the house, he purposely got himself lost.

He followed the road and found himself standing near a sign saying "LONDON" and the distance between the two places. He looked around and noticed many people mingling and hurrying towards a train station. Harry could feel his heart leap on his chest, whether it was because of excitement or fear, he could not tell.

He mixed himself with the crowd and came upon a barrier where people usually would swipe a card and turn the metal arms to enter the train platform. Harry ducked under one of these metal arms and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest, a thousand 'what-ifs' running through his brain. 'Get a grip of yourself', he chided himself. 'You used to be a leader of S-class criminals.'

The train stopped and Harry entered the metal wagon along with other passengers. The train stopped occasionally and people would get out and some would come in. He gripped the metal pole tightly, and tried to calm himself down. What if he would get stranded? What if he would be a victim of other people's schemes? What if Social Services would get hold of him and return him to the Dursleys?

The voice announced that the next stop would be London Victoria Station. A stop later, Harry exited the train along with many others. He climbed the stairs, and rode along some escalators. This train station was certainly more impressive than the one back in Surrey. A few minutes later, Harry found himself in streets of London and he could not stop his jaw from dropping.

His surroundings were admirable. Tall buildings, both old and new surrounded him. Bright red, double-decker buses lined the streets along with fast-moving cars. He absentmindedly started to walk around, his mouth gaping. He bumped onto someone and muttered a quick apology, the man returned his gesture with a middle finger. He ignored the man, and briskly walked towards nowhere in particular, a smile gracing his face. He was finally free!

That was four years ago. Nagato settled down in the woods on the outskirts of London. Near enough to the busy capital of England where he can get all the stuff that he needs, but far enough where civilians would not stray upon this particular path. He hid a certain are of the forest in a Five-Seal Barrier to prevent any intruders. Call it paranoia with the visages of his life as a shinobi, because the Ame nin also loaded the area around his house with traps that range from simple ones that hang people in one leg to the hastily gathered rocks that hide a pit that was stuffed with enough explosive tags to blow up the Big Ben.

His new home also became his own personal training grounds. He practiced his taijutsu, ran over the few genjutsus he'd known and reviewed the ninjutsus he'd known, which was… a lot. He also discovered that he still has the Six Paths' powers. He could channel the Deva Path's powers of utilizing the Force (he watched Star Wars once, he can't prevent himself comparing the two because of the similarities), he can summon his pets: a dog, a crow, and a chameleon, he is able to augment his body parts into armoured machinery, absorb ninjutsu (he did not know if whatever energy his parents used would be absorbed too), he can call forth the Demon King of Hell (although he has no paths to restore and the thing can only be useful during interrogations), and could pull out a soul and absorb any knowledge it has.

He only used the Deva Path's powers in small scale so that it would not cause an accidental and massive damage to property. It would be much of a hassle to leave the nearby city in a crater. He practiced absorbing ninjutsus with his clones, and practiced his taijutsu with the Asura Path's special ability. He promised to himself that he won't use the Human Path's powers unless absolutely needed. Pulling out souls just seemed to be inhumane and brutal. He never used Summoning or the nearby trees would be trampled easily, and he wasn't a Senju and certainly did not possess the Mokuton, he couldn't regrow a forest in seconds, thank you very much. The King of Hell is only useful for interrogation purposes.

He had a nice, secure tree house in the middle of a lush forest, at least it was unique unlike the houses in privet Drive that were identical to each other and had absolutely no touch of originality. It was furnished with few pieces of furniture and important appliances that he managed to buy with his hard-earned money. Although, the tree house took many months to create since he had to use his ninja skills to pickpocket unsuspecting London residents to buy supplies, hardware materials, and building equipment. He pickpocketed from snotty businessmen who had sticks shoved far up their asses.

Moreover, he spent at least three months returning to and fro in the Public Library to get the fundamentals of construction. The building part was easy, though. His large chakra reserves and a Kage Bunshin army did the work for him. He was able to finish his personal lounge in months.

He had once a passing thought in mind that it might be a good idea to go back to school, but immediately dismissed it. Learning things that are meant for little squirts with the mind of a grown-up shinobi were a piece of cake for him. Especially that he spent his time studying if not training.

He also sent out his Kage Bunshins under a henge to take up jobs, which earned him honest money. One was a bookshop keeper and the other was a janitor. The pay wasn't much, but with the pickpocketing skills he has, Nagato had enough cash to survive the next few years.

He also tried very hard to find his parents' friends. He could clearly remember Sirius and his dog transformation, now he wants to find him. Nagato tried finding records of his parents. He found Lily Evans's birth certificate and school record until she was eleven. After that, there was none. It was as if she vanished after her eleventh year. James Potter had no public record at all. This unnerved Nagato, was someone purposely hiding his parents' existence?

He could remember his parents waving around those stick thingies which released a pulse of energy which was not chakra. Nagato tried finding the source of this not-chakra energy within him, and found a wild, thrashing thing that resonated with nature. Senjutsu? No, definitely no.

Were those sticks wands? They could be… but wands were only owned by fairy godmothers who answered the beck and call of their damsels in distress. Who else could use wands? It was a silly idea, seemingly out of a children's book, but, were his parents wizards?

He shrugged his shoulder. Ninjas existed, so why not wizards? So was the not-chakra energy magic? He had no answers to these questions. He could only wait.

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