Harry was pretty much stunned by what happened in Diagon Alley. He had known for so long that he wasn't like everyone else, and he had taken pride in that, but discovering he was a wizard was a shock; after reading Superman and X-Men comics, Harry had been convinced that he was either an alien from a distant planet that had been destroyed in some kind of accident, or he was a mutant, which both accounted for how everyone treated him.

But so many things didn't make sense to him.

But he was a wizard.

Magic existed. He had known there was something unusual about how that snake-faced man had stood over him, with those burning red eyes under that hood, which made the shadowy face even more disturbing.

But the revelation his parents had abandoned him was the worst thing he had ever imagined. Harry had known the Dursleys were wrong about the car crash, since the image of the man with the red eyes was too clear and there was no sign he had been in a car to begin with, discovering he was in a crib at the time only gave it more credence.

Looking back, Harry knew the Dursleys had been lying so they could give him a tale that would make things hurt even more. Harry looked down at his clothes, sighing as he took in their current state. He would have to go shopping later on if he was going to be meeting his parents and the American branch of the Potter family.

Thinking of his parents made him grimace. Harry hated the fact his entire life was nothing more than a sick lie, but finding out they'd been living in comfort for the past 8 years while he'd been struggling to cope made him angry. The traumatic things he had experienced over the years had shaped him, nurtured him, and while they made him a little bitter, Harry refused to think of his past and let it shape his future. He preferred living in the day, the here and now.

A part of him was looking forwards to meeting the people who called themselves his parents and making them pay for what they'd done. Originally Harry had intended to simply go to Hogwarts and pretend his family didn't exist, but he had a feeling they would have gone out of their way to bring him back. He didn't want that. He wanted them to know he was a wizard, and that he wanted nothing to do with them. And he felt the best way to do that was to begin a fresh start somewhere else.

Harry regretted wasting Professor Babbling's time, but there was nothing he could do about that. When he had made the decision he had weighed the potential pros and cons up, and realised going to Hogwarts would mean he would likely never be allowed out of his parent's sight. He had lasted long enough, and he didn't want them holding his hand like he was going to break down and cry. And besides, there might be other opportunities in America for him, and that was what he wanted for his future, never looking back but forward.

Still, looking down at his clothes made him grimace. Harry had always been used to wearing secondhand clothes that looked better suited on a scarecrow than on a young boy. He had intended to use the money he took from the wallets of the victims whom he pickpocketed would be used to buy a house, or fund some college course or something when he got away from the pit that was the foster home while he used some for food to keep himself healthy. But he had never used it to buy clothes since they would ask too many questions.

But, as he looked down at his old clothes, Harry realised he would need to go out there and buy something more appropriate since he didn't want to look like a pauper.

Or should he? Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully at the idea that he could use this to his advantage, to further slap his parents in their faces for their incompetence. Harry checked the time. 6.30. dinner would be starting soon. After that, he planned to go out to one of the clubs and steal some cash just for the fun of it.

As Harry left his bedroom and made his way to the stairs, he stopped when he heard a throat clear behind him. "I saw you and that woman together, is she your girlfriend or something?"

Harry grimaced and he turned, knowing he could not avoid this. A girl had appeared nearby. She was shorter than Harry by a few inches, and while she was pretty, there was nothing pretty about her personality that Harry had found. "No, Nicola, she's a teacher from a school. She was taking me to get supplies."

"Supplies?" Nicola scoffed spitefully. "I watched you come back, Potter. You didn't have anything with you."

A thousand glorious tortures and ideas for killing this girl had gone through Harry's mind often enough. Harry and Nicola had become enemies extremely quickly. Harry didn't know and he had long since stopped bothering to care about it, but each encounter they had made him want to commit murder.

"We discovered something about my family," Harry said. "My parents are alive, and I'm soon going to be moving back in with them."

He was telling a nice little half-truth, but Nicola didn't need to know that.

Whatever Nicola had expected, it was not that. She inhaled quickly, her face flushing red. Harry turned around and went back on his way.

"YOU LIAR!" Nicola screamed, and before Harry even knew what she was doing, there was a flash of movement on his left and he felt her hands on his back.

"Ooomph!" Harry felt the air rushing out of his lungs like a blacksmith's bellows were being deflated. Suddenly he growled when he realised what Nicola had nearly done to him. "You fucking whore!" Harry recovered quickly as he grabbed the bannister and pulled himself upright again, and he raised his fist to punch her in the face.

Nicola, who'd been looking down at him triumphantly, suddenly recoiled when Harry grabbed the bannister and used it to catapult himself back upwards, and then he came for her, his fist rising in the air to throw a punch. Nicola's tongue might have been sharp, but even she had learnt the hard way fighting Harry Potter was like fighting a monster since he didn't care for rules, and he would certainly not bat an eyelash at hitting a girl.

Everything in Harry was screaming at him not to do this, but he couldn't help it. He had made the mistake of not ignoring Nicola, but he was going to be damned if he was going to let this little cunt try to hurt him.

"POTTER!"

Harry stopped, already grimacing as he turned and looked down at the matron of the foster home. Gail was standing there, her face incandescent. Harry wondered how much she had actually seen, but it made no difference; the woman hated him, she hated all the kids, and everything about them, but with him, she took a special pleasure in hating. She would be on Nicola's side.

There was a fire extinguisher behind Gail's back. Harry wanted nothing more than to grab it, and swing it right into the woman's face and smash her jaw in.

"I saw everything just then, Potter, and if you think you can get away by being a freak and going for others like poor Nicola here," Gail gestured at Nicola who grinned smugly, "you are sadly mistaken."

Harry said nothing. He had learnt the hard way that nothing he had to say would make a difference, so he didn't see any point.

Fortunately, Gail never bothered asking for explanations. "Now, both of you get down here, and get to the dining room."

Harry and Nicola did as they were told. As they took their seats, Harry grimaced when he realised from looking at the food they were having vegetable macaroni again. Oh, joy. Harry had enjoyed Italian food when he'd got to the streets, but he hated this dish since it was bland, still, he forced himself to eat it.

"Potters parents are alive!"

Harry stiffened when he turned slowly to Nicola. The girl was staring at him, and smirking at him.

Everyone went silent, especially the matron. "Nicola, don't tell lies," the Matron snapped.

Nicola blanched as she realised quickly the matron thought she was telling tales, but she quickly adapted. "It's not, Potter told me!"

"Did not!" Harry quickly adapted as well. "My parents are dead, or else I wouldn't be an orphan, would I?"

Inwardly, Harry was cursing himself for opening his mouth; he should have known the petty little bitch, Nicola, would not have let something like this go, she would bleed him for it, to spite him.

But he had not seen it at the time.

He had wanted to shock her to leave him alone, but now it had blown up in his face.

While he didn't care if anyone else was punished in his place - being here and being at the Dursleys had long since robbed Harry of any kind of goodwill towards others - Harry didn't want to be scolded or punished, and he needed the foster home staff to be on more good terms with him than normal and he wasn't going to get that if he lied to them. He didn't know if the American Potters were going to have to come here, but he felt they would, and he wanted the orphanage to be shocked into submission.

But to do that, he wanted them on good terms, reasonably.

In a way, Harry was pleased with the white lie. Lily and James had both betrayed him and threw him aside and made him suffer when he needed them both the most. So no, he didn't have problems using the fact they were alive to his advantage before lying about it.

Privately, Harry laced his words with magic, aimed at the adults.

The matron turned to Nicola, her expression far from amicable. "Nicola, go up to your room!" She snarled.

Nicola paled. That meant she wasn't going to be fed. "But I'm telling the truth!"

"SHUT UP! Use your brain, girl! He's right, if his parents were alive, would he be here!" Harry particularly enjoyed twisting the matron's mind so she repeated Harry's words. "Now get out of my sight!"

Nicola shook, her eyes welling up with tears as she looked around the table for an ally, but she found none. The kids learnt quickly how strict the matron was and how dangerous it was to argue with her. None of the adults could help her either, and she glanced at Harry, who didn't even look at her before the matron lost her patience and had one of her lackeys take her away.

When Nicola glared at Harry, she had to look away quickly. He was looking at her with those freaky green eyes of his.

They were glowing like luminous poison.