Harry ached. His Aunt and Uncle had been… pissed didn't quite cut it if he's being frank, about his hanging out with the Ishtar's and Ryou. Apparently Vernon and Petunia saw the elder siblings while they were searching for their house, took in their Egyptian state of dress and dark skin, and had immediately despised their existence.

Especially since Ryou and Marik, who they'd watched him fraternize with through the window, were clearly "not right" in the Dursleys' eyes. Between their outfits, long hair, make up, jewelry, and fondness for him specifically it was obvious to them that the entire lot of their new neighbors were the wrong sort. And that was before the blonde boy - who dressed like an expensive hooker in Petunia's opinion - left and came back an hour later driving that- that- MONSTROSITY into the driveway of Number 5.

A motorcycle, in Little Winging? The housewife scoffed and glared up at the ceiling as though she could see the freak through the floor as if to blame him for this nightmare. Wasn't all that magic nonsense enough?

Ah well… The blonde woman smirked to herself when she remembered the state her sister's freak son was in after her Vernon was through with him. At least the boy wasn't going anywhere or doing anything with those people anytime soon.

Or ever, if she had a say in it.

Meanwhile as Harry lie bruised, bloody, and in agony locked inside his room - too hurt to notice much less care about his being starved again - the friends he'd made across the street were growing ever more agitated with his lack of appearance. Violet and Maroon eyes fixed the house, taking particular interest in the lone barred window, and grew narrower and more intense the longer they couldn't spot a whisper of their newest interest. Especially the fact that, as far as they could tell, their new acquaintance hadn't been fed at all since he left their house five days ago.

"That's it!" Marik growled as he got up, storming over to his closet to pick out one of his darker (and less likely to stain) outfits before glancing back at the thief who's been in charge of the silverette's body since Harry never showed up as he'd promised he would.

"We're getting him out of that house!"

Bakura nodded as he pulled on his long black coat, too angry about this turn of events to trust himself to speak at the moment. The walk over to Number 4, more like a stalk into battle than anything, was watched avidly by all their nosey neighbors. The vermin's whispering went ignored as Bakura, face cold and clearly pissed off, knocked on the door in a way that made his displeasure and insistence known to both the Dursleys AND said gossiping neighbors.

To the shock of everyone watching the first thing out of the boy's surprisingly deep and gravelly voice when mad is a firm "What did you do to Harry?"

"Ex-cuse me?!" Petunia's shrill voice hissed "What do you think-"

The blonde cut her off "Cut the bullshit you hag, we know you did something to him. He didn't come over like he promised, hasn't called to apologize or say he couldn't make it, and hasn't even been SEEN since he left our house nearly a week ago. Now where. Is. He?"

'That… was actually a good point.' thought Mr.Grace of Number 3. In hindsight he recalls that the family's nephew is usually outside or wandering Number 4's lower level doing chores, when he isn't skulking silently in the park alone, so this lack of appearance is highly suspicious. A glance at the others watching this shows they've noticed the same.

The old man and other gossipers' thoughts are cut off when the blonde forces his way inside the house, leaving Mrs. Dursley shrieking at his form stomping up the stairs like a banshee to the white haired boy glaring her down with eyes full of dark promise should she try anything. It's hard to believe this is the same sweet boy that had helped his wife carry her groceries into the house from the car a day ago.

Then, after a brief moment of silence after what sounds like a door being broken down, comes a scream of complete and utter horror from the foreign boy.

"HARRY!"

Mr.Grace had never thought much about the Dursleys' hooligan of a nephew, and when he or the others heard shouting from number 4 they'd all long since learned to tune it out. It wasn't unheard of to hear a man yell when correcting bad behavior after all, just to try and spook a bad kid into not stealing or setting fires or worse. But the sight of the boy, Harry, curled up and beaten to near death in the once angry blonde's arms makes something cold and horrid nestle in the old man's stomach.

No child deserved that.

As they all watched the white haired teen growl at Petunia.

"We're taking him, his things, and leaving. But trust me, this is far from over and you and your family will burn in the deepest and darkest pits of Hell for what you've done to him."

As they watch the blonde worriedly call his older brother to start the car, pulling the injured boy into it to drive to the hospital, and the white haired boy's call that he'll join them later while he hauls Harry's school trunk and bird cage (and nothing else) out of the Dursley house the neighbors of Private Drive all come to a single agreement.

They had made a terrible mistake where Harry Potter was involved.

Green eyes opened blearily to notice the blurry white tiled ceiling above him rather than his dreary one from Number 4. Confused and more floaty than in pain the raven searches his surroundings and freezes when he notices a black and gold blur slumped in what must be a nearby chair and he fuzzily remembers what happened.

Aunt Petunia screeching, stomping footsteps up the stairs to his room, thinking he was about to die… And then Marik's voice calling for him, being held in the blonde's arms, being safe as he hears a familiar voice - Bakura - growling at his Aunt. They had saved him.

How long has Harry hoped and dreamed for something like this to happen to him, especially since he made friends at Hogwarts?

"Harry?!"

The worried gasp draws green eyes to the blur that is Marik's face, cursing the fact his poor eyesight means he can't really tell what the other's expression is at the moment.

"Are you ok?… No- that's a stupid question. I mean to say, does anything still hurt?"

Tears swim in green eyes as a watery smile pulls at a split and stitched lip.

"Y-you came for me."

Marik, though Harry couldn't see it, felt his heart break at the emotion he could empathize with so much it hurt. "You and Bakura… You barely knew me and you came to save me…"

Tears fell down pale, bruised cheeks as the black haired teen cried happily.

"Thank you. Thank you!"

As he hugged Harry, stroking his back and letting him cry into his shoulder, the tomb-keeper can't help crying himself as he replies.

"Always… We'd always come for you. You're OURS and nothing and no one is going to change that."

"Promise?"

"We promise." came Bakura's deep voice from the corner, startling the pair.

"Yadonushi and I are rather greedy when it comes to what's ours, as is Marik, so I'm sorry to say you're stuck with us."

"I'd like that." Harry muttered happily as sleep pulled at him again.

"Go to sleep Harry." Marik said as he ran a hand through the raven bird's nest that was the shorter boy's hair.

"We'll be here when you wake up."

With a sigh of relief, fully trusting the two boys he was so fond of, Harry fell back into unconsciousness. The pair of foreign magical's meanwhile locked gazes and came to a silent understanding. From this point on Harry was theirs and nothing was going to happen to him under their watch.

Nothing.

As they sit in their respective offices, plotting, a shiver runs down the spines of several magicals. They brush it off as a number of things, returning to their schemes. All of them completely unaware that their plans and plots involving the Boy-Who-Lived were about to come crashing down around them.