It had not been a pleasant night, even for him. When he woke up, his shoulder was sore and it hurt every time he even budged it, and his bony arm looked all swollen and purple from where it had been gripped too tightly.

However today was Saturday, and he was not required to do anything in the morning since his Aunt had a book club and even better his Uncle and cousin were watching a football game. He did not need to cook breakfast, and only needed to make something for himself, since they would undoubtedly eat out.

Waking up, his cupboard was thankfully unlocked and looking in the fridge, he was relieved to find that his Aunt had once again overstocked, meaning they were unlikely to notice if he cooked a full sausage or a strip of bacon.

Even as he cooked the food his stomach was growling in anticipation, and as he put them on a dish and consumed them as slowly as he could, in order to savour it as much as possible he sighed, partly to satisfying his stomach, but mostly in sadness.

Many times he had been forced to watch how his cousin had consumed and eaten all that he wanted while he poked his measly scraps. He had watched as other children had more than enough to eat for lunch at school, and had hungered and had imagined that food was his.

But he dared not question his fortune, and did not desire to get more as he finished his meal for fear of reprisal – instead, he washed his plate and headed out, shivering slightly at the cold.

Dressed in thin, torn hand-me-downs he wasn't exactly prepared for a typical grey day in Surrey but he had nothing else, and he headed down the road, towards the library.

It was his only refuge from his relatives and the other children who made fun of him and hunted him. The old librarian was kind to him, and helped him look for what he needed, and since it was not frequented by the other children he spent as much of his time as he could in there, simply reading and reading, taking himself to other places, wishing he could go far away from here, reading on every topic imaginable, from Greek philosophy to World history.

As soon as he got there he immediately went to the non-fiction section and picked out the latest book he had been reading, Cultures of Asia.

He didn't know why, but there was something about Asia that appealed to him in its exoticness, its strange and unfamiliar lands. Perhaps it was because it seemed so far away, so distant, that he could be spirited away and never come back.

"Sasha! Come on, where are you?"
His attention was diverted as he heard the quiet pitter-patter of feet following the brassy, young female voice. Harry looked down in surprise as a child, of three or four, wrapped around his torso and hid behind him.

"Sasha! Come on! We don't have time for this game!"

The child was a girl, and as Harry gently prised her arms off him she looked up at him, with pleading eyes.

He smiled. "Is that your sister?"

The girl nodded.

"Why are you running from her?"

"She's scary," the child whined.

Harry nearly chuckled at that. He leaned down and patted her on the head. "I wish I had a sister. You should be happy. She seems scary because she loves you very much."

The child wrinkled her brow. "Don't you have a sister?"

"No, I don't." He smiled sadly. Or a mother. Or a father. Harry took her by the hand, leading her out of the aisle. "Excuse me? Your little sister is here."

A teenaged girl who looked to be fifteen turned around, giving a sigh of relief as she came down. "Oh thank God! Sasha, where have you been?" She picked the little girl up with little effort.

The girl blew a raspberry. "Emma is a meanie!"

She sighed, and then gave a small smile. "Sorry I'm being such a big meanie today. Let's get some ice-cream later okay?" She turned to regard him. "Thanks a lot. What's your name pipsqueak?"

"Er… Harry. Harry Potter."

Emma raised an eyebrow as she regarded the boy who looked more like a street orphan than the local delinquent she had heard about. From the way he averted his eyes to his skeletal frame, and ragged, scrappy hand-me-downs. He was nothing like what her parents made him out to be, but then again, it's not like they had always seen eye-to-eye.

Meanwhile Harry was wondering if this Emma was the same Emma his Aunt had ranted on about one night at dinner, calling her a 'rebel' and 'completely out of control'. She certainly didn't dress like what he thought a rebel would look like, being neat and casual in a t-shirt and jeans.

"Well thanks for helping find my sister Harry." Emma said with an unfalteringly kind smile. "Did you come here by yourself? Where are your mum and dad?"

Harry flushed. "I live with my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon." The way he changed his tone when speaking their names did not go unnoticed by the teenager.

Emma looked sheepish. "Sorry… I forgot. Hey, would you like to get some ice-cream with us?"

Harry looked up with wide eyes. "I-Ice-cream? Really?"

Emma laughed at his reaction. "Of course! It's the least I could do." And it's a better opportunity to find out why every parent in Privet Drive tells their kids to stay away from him.

-P-

Harry was licking a chocolate ice-cream cone, savouring it as slowly as he could. Sasha had already wolfed down her vanilla dip with sprinkles and was currently on the kid's playground, playing on the slides, leaving the two of them sitting beside each other.

To say Emma was shocked would be an understatement. Harry was the very opposite of what she had heard – he was kind, considerate and very polite, especially for his age. Even as they spoke Emma got the impression he was a lot more mature than he looked, and a lot more intelligent as well. He was very shy, and it took a bit of gently prodding to open him up to talk, but it had been worth it as he was surprisingly very conversable.

"E-Excuse me?" Harry spoke up hesitantly. "Do you mind if I ask you something? Except it mind seem rude…"

"Not at all," Emma responded pleasantly. "Go ahead, as long as it's G-rated," she joked, though at his blank expression nearly smacked herself in the head. Six year old kid. Right.

"It's just… my Aunt always used to call you a 'no-good delinquent'," Harry stated up boldly. "Why did she say that?"

Emma laughed. "Well, you are curious aren't you? And very brave to ask me. Technically it's true. A little while ago I did go completely off the rails and ran away from my parents. Did some things I'm not proud of, made a lot of mistakes."

"What kind of things? Really bad things?"

She smiled at his innocence. "I hope that when you're my age you'll see them as bad things. But yes. Even now I'm not living with my parents, I live with my uncle down another block, though he lets me do my own thing most of the time. We still don't see eye-to-eye but we have dinner occasionally and they let me spend time with Sasha, so it's fine. I'm independent and away from them, and I'm saving money to hopefully attend college several years from now."

"I wish I could be like you," Harry admitted. "Free, I mean. I wish I could be far away from this place and never have to come back."

If Emma was surprised by this frank declaration she didn't show it. "I'm sure that one day you will." She smiled, and stood up. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to leave. It was nice to meet you Harry, and good luck, for the future I mean."

"Goodbye, Emma. And thank you." Harry said earnestly as she walked to the playground to collect Sasha, and left.

Harry took a moment to finish the rest of his ice-cream, before standing up also, ready to head back home. He was about to toss the napkin into the metal bin when the half-torn cover of a book caught his eye.

No way! Can it be? Harry's eyes widened as he quickly used the napkin to fish it out. It is…

It was the latest Naruto manga. It had its cover torn off, it looked like someone had spilled something all over it, and it was slightly dirty, but it was still the latest Naruto manga!

Since Harry had been recently kicked out of the local comic book shops because not only did he spend all day reading, annoying the owners but a lot of the children spent their time there as well, he had not been able to catch up on the latest story. And here it was, in all its dirty, soggy glory!

Using the napkin to wipe away some of the dirt and mess, he gently opened it, and began to read.

Harry would not budge from there for another hour as he read through it, completely engrossed and transfixed in the story.

He was shocked at his good fortune but did not want to question it. After all, from what he understood Naruto was nowhere near as popular as what the other kids liked and very few actually read it. Harry had been able to read through it, partially for this reason since many of the kids enthused over other comics but also because it was a lot more complex and well-thought out than the others.

Soon enough, Harry had finished, closing the manga and throwing it back in the bin again, fearing what his Aunt would do if she saw it.

He had been moved by Nagato's story, but also awed at his strange and terrible power – to control six bodies at once as if they were his own. As Pain, Nagato had single-handedly bested Jiraiya and completely decimated the village, a feat which not even Orochimaru had accomplished in the original series with an army behind him.

And the power of his Rinnegan… Harry looked down at his hands and pretended to do a few seals, wishing he could wield that power. From the conversations he had gathered from the older few who read Naruto, they all enthused about the Sharingan – however he had heard not an ounce of praise for the Rinnegan, despite it easily being the most powerful of the three great doujutsu. There seemed to be nothing it couldn't do – read minds by ripping out souls, manipulate gravity, master all the elements, bring back the dead – Harry also felt a strong kinship with Nagato, as he wasn't a stranger to pain either. It had characterised most of his life, and unlike the protagonist, he wasn't blockheaded enough to go through it all bearing a smile.

Harry knew very well there was something wrong with the way he was treated, knew it every time he saw a family take a walk in the park or watch a little girl like Sasha with their caregiver. But he could do nothing about it, only bear it and imagine himself far away whenever he opened a Naruto manga.

Sighing, Harry looked up at the sky, which had cleared up, kicking his legs out before standing up. It was time to go. He was already late as it was, but he didn't care – today had been amazing, and for once in his life, he felt like a normal child.

Deciding to take the longer way back home to hopefully procrastinate his Aunt's wrath, Harry simple enjoyed the feeling of sweet freedom and independence, short as it was.

That is, until he heard a scream.

Harry froze, looking around wildly, before he heard the scream again, followed by the wailing of a child. The strange thing was, it sounded familiar –

At that moment of realisation, Harry knew he had two choices. He could run away, and while he would be safe and sound, he would hate his own guts forever. However, at the same time, if he knew he went to confront them he would most likely get his ass kicked, or worse. There was no way he would reach another adult in time.

Harry gritted his teeth angrily. What kind of a choice was that? With that, he ran off in the direction of the sound, heading down an alleyway and across the street into another alley.

The teenager from before, Emma, was being held at knife-point, while the little girl Sasha was on the ground across from them, crying as she nursed a cut.

"I wish it hadn't come to this, and I'm real sorry for cutting the little girl," the boy hissed angrily, gripping the weapon tightly. "But you left me no choice. After you left, do you know the amount of trouble you caused?"
"No way in hell am I going back there!" Emma growled, ignoring the blade digging into her neck. "I'm turning over a new leaf, and I actually have a future this time! None of you can understand!"

"Oh, no, I understood exactly… you're no different from before. Typical selfish Emma, always thinking of herself over other people," he mocked. "How many hearts have you broken, how much trouble have you caused?"

"And you're still just a rich, stuck-up pretty boy!" Emma snapped back acidly. "You say I'm selfish but you're the one who's selfish! And blind! Look at you! You're so in deep you're threatening me with a knife like some common thug!"

"SHUT UP! If you hadn't left I would never be doing this in the first place. It's your fault, it's always your fault…"

Harry had enough, as he stepped into view, wondering what on Earth he had gotten himself into. "Stop!" He demanded in as strong a tone as he could muster.

"Harry!" Emma turned fearfully. "Run! Grab Sasha and get away from here!"

"Get lost, kid!" The teenage boy snapped. "This isn't your business!" Holding the knife against Emma's neck, with his other hand he pulled out a small revolver, aiming it at Harry threateningly. "Do you have a death wish? I told you to get lost!"
"Are you barmy? Threatening a child of all things!"
"Shut it you bitch! Come on kid, just turn around and keep moving!"

But Harry could not, would not. Whether from bravado, idiocy or pure stubbornness there was no way he could back off. Even if he was going to die, at least he would die here protecting someone than out of starvation with the Dursleys.

With that oddly comforting thought in mind, he took a deep breath, and began walking forward.

"NO!" Emma screamed. "Run, Harry! Get out of here!"

"Get lost kid! Scram!"

However, Harry kept moving, and picked up the pace until he broke into a run.

BOOM!
Harry gasped in shock as the bullet ripped across his side, sending him staggering to the ground, slamming hard on the concrete.

"Harry!" Emma cried in pure anguish. "How could you? You're no better than a lowlife now!"

"Shut up! You know nothing of my pain! Nothing!"

Harry was lying on the ground, drifting in and out of consciousness as he heard those words, and it sparked something in him, as he remembered words he had read not so long ago, from a character he had so admired.

Something warm blossomed inside of him, something bright, and as his vision slowly faded to black, he reached for the warm, clinging to it, wishing he had the power to solve this, wishing he had the strength.

And something happened. The tremendous power inside him, which had fought to keep him alive all these years, responded as it rose into an inferno – the power, which catered to its body's needs, now did so, latching on to the dark mass clinging to Harry's scar, which was absorbed and became a part of his power. The magic surged forward, creating new pathways, before pushing into his eyes, rewriting, rewiring, changing them to become better, stronger, and different than anything else before. A secret ability, locked away in his bloodline all this time, was now unleashed.

Harry stood up, to the shock of the teenagers. His wound had miraculously healed, and his chunky, broken glasses were tossed aside as he opened his eyes – to reveal a set of glowing, swirling purple eyes.

The power of the Rinnegan was his as he had wished.

His mouth opened, and words came out, as if he were not in control. "Pain? You know nothing of pain." Harry's eyes narrowed, glowing with ethereal power.

The boy's hand shook as he raised his weapon again. "W-What are you?"

Harry smirked. "We are Pain. We are god!"

BOOM! The revolver fired again, but the bullet never hit – instead, a powerful pulse of invisible force deflected it so it mere scraped his arm, while sending them staggering backward.

Harry charged forward, his face cold and emotionless, leaping onto the teenager and wrenching the weapons out of his grip. He slapped his hand on the boy's head and the teenager screamed as he felt his mind, memories and very life force seeping out of him slowly.

In reality, his very soul was being sucked out.

The teenager gasped as Harry ripped out a white, glowing spectral figure which dissipated, before slumping to the ground, dead.

Harry however, felt knowledge and memories flash before his eyes – information simply flew through his head, and it was too much for him – clutching his head in agony, he slumped over the corpse, slipping into unconsciousness.

-P-

"I'm telling you, Rod, it was nothing like I had seen before! Harry just…"

"And I'm telling you Emma, you need to get to a hospital. You've just been in a situation where you saw a child shot and was held at knife-point. You're most likely suffering from post-traumatic stress, and in some cases the stress can cause victims to distort or suppress memory."

"I'm NOT suffering from post-traumatic stress! I'm telling you what I saw! And if you really thought I needed to get to a hospital why aren't you worried about Harry? He's been shot for God's sake!"

"I'm a trained medic, I can easily handle it, and his wounds aren't severe…"

Harry had been awake for several minutes, but continued to pretend to be asleep, taking the time to recollect himself and wonder where he was.

Slowly, memories were coming back to him. He remembered the confrontation in the alleyway, remembered being shot, remembered moving as if not under his own power. It seemed to be like a distant dream.

As he slowly opened his eyes, the first thing he realised was that he wasn't wearing his glasses – scratch that, he didn't need his glasses. Everything was super sharp and crystal clear, clearer than when he had ever worn his glasses. And everything seemed… wider as well, like someone had taken the edges of his vision and stretched them out like a sheet of rubber.

"Well, it looks like our young friend is awake."
Harry turned to take in a man nearing middle-age, with short-cropped hair and a strong, chiselled face. His features were hard, but surprisingly warm as he gave him a smile. "How you doing son? My name's Rodney, but you can call me Rod. You already know Emma."
"His eyes Rod!" Emma hissed in shock. "Look at his eyes!"

"M-My eyes?" Harry remembered what had happened, and quickly shot up, looking around wildly for a mirror. Rod kindly handed him a handheld mirror.

Harry took a deep breath as he took it, and raised it up, to reflect glowing, swirling purple eyes. The eyes of the… "Rinnegan," he breathed in awe.

Rod however looked thoughtful as he regarded Harry's faded lightning bolt scar, which had become hardly a mark by now. "Emma, where'd you say you met him?"

"By the local Surrey library," Emma answered. "Treated him to an ice-cream."

"Is that so? Who do you live with, Harry?"

"My Aunt and Uncle," the boy answered. With his new eyes it was impossible to detect even an ounce of emotion in them – however the subtle undertone of bitterness couldn't be missed.

"Hmm. I see."

"Do you want to tell me what's going on, Rod?" Emma demanded. "You're acting all weird. What are you hiding?"

Rod sighed "If I told you Emma – I don't think you'd believe me."

"Is it as unbelievable as a child getting up from being shot with new crazy eyes, deflecting a bullet or sucking someone's soul out?" She said sarcastically. "Whatever it is, I'm sure I can handle it."

"That's the problem, Emma – I don't think you really understand, or understand the implications of what has happened." Rod stood up. "We'll settle this later. Anyway, Harry, are you hungry?"

"Yes, starving," Harry replied, feeling his stomach rumble in complaint.

"You've been out all afternoon. It's dinner time."

His eyes widened. "Dinner time! Oh no! I need to get back and cook dinner!" But Rod held him down with a strong hand.

"Hold on a minute. One thing, you're too young to be cooking dinner for anyone. I can make you a snack before we get you back to your relatives."

Harry shook his head. "It's too late; I might as well stay a few more minutes. Can you please tell me what you're going to tell Emma?"

"Too late for what?" Emma asked with a frown.

Rod sighed. "Never mind that. Harry… you've never been told about the… the you-know-what?"

"You-know-what? What you-know-what?" Harry asked in confusion.

"I mean… what you are," Rod stated with strong emphasis.

"…an orphan?"

Rod looked at him in astonishment. "Then I guess you really don't know!"

"Please stop it with all the cloak and dagger!" Emma complained. "What's so different about Harry? Is it some genetic mutation? Was he a part of a Government project? Is this some sorta cover-up?"

"Nothing so simple I'm afraid." Rod sighed once more, this time in resignation. "But before I can say anything, nothing spoken of here leaves this room. Got it?"

"Got it," Emma answered without hesitation. "So it is a cover-up!"

Rod looked at her in annoyance. "Why do you call everything I do a cover-up?"

"You were part of some black-ops group weren't you?"

"Formerly. But never mind that. Harry, I'm shocked that you were never told, considering how well-known you are."

"Well-known? What do you mean?"

"You're famous."
Suddenly an incident came to the forefront of Harry's mind, where a strangely-dressed gentleman bowed to him. His Aunt Petunia had seen it and he didn't have any dinner that night. "For… for what?"

"Well, simply put: you're part of a larger community of people who can access an energy source called magic. These people are called witches and wizards… and you, Harry, are one of them."

Emma looked at him in shock. "You must be joking."

"I am not." He countered. "See how I said you wouldn't believe me? But it's the truth. The reason you're famous, Harry, is the reason you have that scar, and the reason you're an orphan."
Harry's swirling purple eyes glowed dimly. "Please tell me."

Rod closed his eyes wearily. "Many years ago, there was a dark wizard, who began rallying people to his cause. He so terrified the wizards and witches that even today they refuse to say his name – Voldemort."

Harry could feel his eyes pulse slightly at the name. "So what happened?"

Rod snorted. "Voldemort was a terrorist. He used hit-and-run guerrilla tactics, attacking and going wherever he pleased, and the whole wizard world was in panic. Except when he came to your parents' house, and killed your parents, before turning his wand – that's the way wizards use magic – on you, as a baby. But despite this – somehow, nobody knows the reason why, he couldn't kill you, and his powers were broken when he tried, leaving that lightning bolt scar. So that's why you're famous. You're called the boy-who-lived." Rod chuckled. "A one in a million freak accident, I'd say."

"Wait… how do you know all of this? Don't tell me you're a wizard as well Uncle!" Emma stated incredulously.

"Hell no! I'm what they call a squib, born in a wizard family but without the capability to do magic. We're treated as outcasts, but good riddance! I never wanted to do magic in the first place."

"So… the reason I have these eyes…"

"Undeniably magic, and that's coming from someone who only knows the basics. But I've never heard of anything like this before. You intentionally deflected a bullet, that's not normal accidental magic, and ripped out someone's soul… well, some would call that dark, but you look like a good kid to me."

"I-I really don't know what happened," Harry admitted. "I just really wished I had the power to fight off that boy hurting Emma, and these activated."
"Really? Hmm… whatever's happened, I think something's different about those flashy new eyes," Rod grinned. "I mean different in a good way. I say keep them and learn how to use them because I have a feeling it's gonna shake things up… not just for the wizards, but for the whole world as well."

"Wait? What about my ex? The guy who got his soul ripped out?" Emma questioned. "You're being awfully calm about all this."
"I know. Don't worry, whatever happens, it'll end up being a cold case. However – I think you need to move soon. You got all your stuff back from him, right?"

"Well… not quite. I've still left a few clothes and some boxes there."

"Enough to incriminate you?"

"Maybe. It's too late now, I don't know the codes to his apartment."

"I do," Harry stated, making the pair of them turn to him in surprise. "I… I know the codes to his apartment. And where his parent's house is, as well as the key. And his account number. A-And… a lot of stuff. It's all a mess in my head, though."

"That seems pretty useful." Rod commented.

"Useful? For ripping someone's soul out? You really are mad Uncle!"

Harry however was in awe. It really is the power of the Rinnegan…

"Okay, you two can go to your ex's apartment to pick up your stuff. Be quick about it though, and be sure not to leave a mess."
"I know, don't worry, I'm not exactly an angel as well remember?"

"Of course Emma. And… Harry…"

The boy turned to look at him.

"I know some of the shock may not have gotten to you yet but… you just killed a guy. I didn't mean to be so obtuse about it, but I may have been unintentionally. How are you doing? Alright?"
"Yeah." Harry was feeling perfectly fine, better than fine in fact with the power of the Rinnegan. "I mean… he was about to hurt Emma. And I was trying to protect her, and I did. Because of that, it's fine… right?"

Rod however had different thoughts. He seems so indifferent to the fact he just killed someone. Just what kind of things have his relatives been teaching him? "… Right. Okay, see you kids later."

-P-

At Emma's insistence, the pair completely cleaned out her ex's house, as well as his personal savings, which were considerable. Because of his gang connections, nobody would assume it was anything more than a gang-ordered hit, and the case would most likely be closed. It had rained that night, which would wash away any incriminating evidence at the scene.

Emma took the death of her ex-boyfriend surprisingly well, too well in fact. As a consequence, she was considerably nicer to Harry and doted on him, even promising to buy him plenty of new things with her newfound wealth.

Rod kindly offered for Harry to stay over that night, which he was glad for, as he was not looking forward to seeing the Dursleys again. How exactly was he going to explain everything to them?

A better question, Harry mused in the morning as he sat in Rod's car whilst parked outside Privet Drive, would be how not to kill them. True, he hated his relatives, but that didn't mean he wanted them dead or anything.

Rod however was occasionally glancing at the child in concern. His whole demeanour is too mature for his age. No post-trauma to the knowledge of causing someone's death. Maybe those eyes affected more than his magic. Maybe they affected his mind... or was he already like this? He had seen his fair share of child soldiers and the psychological trauma and stress they underwent, however Harry had shown no signs of it at all. I should keep watching him, see if anything happens regardless. "Well Harry, are you ready to go home?"

"Let's get this over with," the boy sighed as he got out of the vehicle. Harry turned to face the house he loathed, ready to walk to the door, but promptly stopped.

Rod noticed his hesitation. "What's up?"

Harry took off the sunglasses Rod had given him to hide his Rinnegan in astonishment. T-There's someone around the house. Some kind of bubble. It looks like... Suddenly he recalled one of the Rinnegan's abilities. That's right – it can see chakra – or magic. Then all this time...

It looked like he needed a long talk to his relatives.

"Nothing." Harry strode through the bubble, slipping on his new sunglasses again, until he reached the door, but turned around and watched the bubble as Rod walked in as well – it flashed for a moment and glowed positively, accepting him inside. Interesting.

Rod however noticed nothing as he walked up beside him and knocked several times on the door.

"Coming!" Harry winced at the high-pitched, false sweet tone of his Aunt before the door opened. "May I help you?" She asked Rod sweetly, before she looked down and saw him before scowling. "What has the fre – I mean boy done this time?"

Rod plastered on a smile. "Good morning – it's Mrs Dursley, isn't it? I'm sorry that Harry was unable to return at all yesterday and that I forgot to contact you. I'm sure you were very worried."

"Oh, it's no worry, I'm sure it wasn't your fault," Mrs Dursley said, while shooting Harry dangerous glances. "That's fine, since the boy is obviously safe and sound, everything has worked out well!" With that, she quickly grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him in. "Now, if you don't mind..." She quickly grabbed the doorknob.

"Hold on a moment," Rod said, stepping in the way of the door. "There's also something else."

Mrs Dursley was taken aback. "Something... else, you say?"

"I think this conversation is best had in private," Rod stated. "And with your spouse, preferably. It's about Harry, so he can stay as well." The ex-military man watched as she attempted to cover a scowl by yelling for her husband to come down. There was annoyance, in her eyes, understandable, and even... fear? It looked like this talk would be very enlightening.

Once they had all sat down, Rod took a deep breath before cutting right through the pleasantries. "Right then. Why didn't you tell Harry he was a wizard?"

Silence. He could see Harry was trying to suppress his laughing from the look on their faces.

It was Petunia who spoke, her face pale. "You're... you're one of them aren't you?" She demanded furiously, her voice cascading to a screech.

"I am not, but I know of them," Rod countered levelly. "Which is my problem – or rather Harry's problem."
With that, the boy rose, tossing aside his sunglasses to reveal his swirling, hypnotic purple Rinnegan, making Petunia shriek and Vernon actually whimper when they saw it. "Tell me everything! Now! Or death will be a comfort!"

"We didn't want to take you in! You turned up on our doorstep one night with a letter saying my freak sister and her husband got themselves killed!" Petunia blurted out, shaking with fear.

"Why?" Harry growled angrily.

"It was the Headmaster of that school for freaks! That... that Dumbledore! He wanted us to take you in, but we wanted to have nothing to do with any of it!

"So the reason you beat me? Starved me? Forced me to live in a cupboard?"

Petunia wanted to stop talking, but those strange eyes... they somehow drew her in, and made her keep answering. "We wanted to get all that nonsense out of you! To hopefully make you a good British citizen!"
By now Harry had also started shaking, not with fear, but with white-hot fury.

Rod had had enough by now, and had already stood up, pointing Harry to the door. "Right then. Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to drive Harry out of here and go to my lawyer. Tonight or tomorrow I'm going to come back with a form stating you've released custody of Harry to me."

The pair didn't even need to think about it. "Done!" They said in unison.

-P-

However, when they returned to Rod's household, Harry felt no closure from their confession. And why should he? They kept his heritage from him, beat him, abused him, starved him whilst giving Dudley whatever he wanted, stunted his learning, spread malicious rumours… the list was practically endless.

His whole life before this had been nothing but pain, a pain that the Dursleys had caused. That was not to add the pain of loneliness, of never knowing his parents. Even though he now knew his parents died for a noble cause and not from a drunken accident – it still hurt. It was still pain.

Harry closed his eyes, before walking to a mirror, regarding his Rinnegan, observing it closely.

Maybe it was nothing more than a comic book, however it had always connected with him in some sense. Was true peace really a lie, as Pain had believed? Was the chain of hatred always meant to go on till the end of humanity? Would there always be another victim like him, waiting to happen?

He looked deep into his eyes in his reflection, as if hoping to find the answer within them. Harry could not be an idealist like Naruto, believing that people were ultimately good. People were bad and rotten inside. But maybe, these eyes could change the world, like they had in Naruto. Maybe they were the start of something new.

But Harry knew in order to build something new you needed to first destroy what was originally in its place, in order to make space. The old and the new couldn't co-exist.

The Rinnegan… he remembered reading in the manga that the bearer of it was destined to be either the world's destroyer, or saviour. Well maybe he could do both.

But first, he needed to train and become strong. And find out more about magic and the magical world.

And he also needed to go to Japan. He had a feeling it would be a good idea to pay the creator of Naruto, Kishimoto, a visit.