184Chapter 3 Defiance
Sakura practically vibrated with impatience as she and Kakashi set off. She wanted to run. She couldn't stand the easy pace they had going; but she knew it was necessary. Kakashi no doubt would have been able to cross the distance between Konaha and this Harry Potter's house in the time it took a messenger hawk to fly, which was five days. Five days, they were already behind by five days. At this rate of travel, they wouldn't reach the shore for a week, then an additional week to take the boat across the sea and make their way to the boy's house.
Cursing herself for never bothering to learn any transportation jutsu, Sakura pushed their leisurely tree-hopping into a faster pace. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kakashi raise his eyebrow; but he didn't comment, just matched his pace to hers. Kakashi had always been that way, letting Team Seven learn from their own mistakes, letting them fall, then catching them right before they shattered on the rocks. A wry twist crossed Sakura's lips at the imagery. Kakashi had never been known for his timeliness.
Shaking herself out of that depressing line of thought, Sakura refocused on the issue at hand. If things went extremely well, they should arrive at Potter's house two weeks after the original information was sent to the Leaf. Two weeks in which time Itachi may have already found the boy and killed him. For the first time, Sakura questioned Tsunade's reasoning on sending Sakura on a mission where speed was obviously the priority. Unless…well, unless the Hokage didn't trust her shinobi. The thought sent a chill down her spine, and she forcefully put it out of her mind. It was useless to speculate about things that had no bearing on her mission. All she needed to concentrate on was going faster, faster, faster. Every second counted, and Sakura prayed to any kami that would listen that they would get to Potter before Itachi did.
An idea striking her, Sakura slowed slightly and turned to her teammate, "Ne, Kakashi-sensei?" Kakashi turned his head in her direction, not even breaking stride. He obviously didn't need to watch the trees to keep from falling. Show off.
Having gained his attention, Sakura asked the question that had just occurred to her, "Kakashi-sensei, why don't we use the transportation scrolls to take us to the shore? Or better yet, Potter-san's house?" Kakashi eye-crinkled at her, but she got the distinct impression that he was slightly disappointed. Sakura clenched her fists in aggravation. Just because she had a lot of book-smarts didn't mean that she knew everything, dammit!
"Sakura-chan," Sakura twitched at the "chan," "Weren't you paying attention at the briefing just now?" Sakura twitched again. Yes, she had been paying attention, but the baka nin who had been heading the info session had obviously been gearing the briefing to Kakashi. Most of the explanation had gone right over her head; but she was too proud to admit it, so she just kept quiet, waiting for Kakashi to finally explain what she had oh-so-obviously missed.
Kakashi sighed, then dropped the teasing tone altogether, "Sakura, those pre-mission briefings usually prove vital to the completion of the mission, especially considering you are going into completely new territory with tools that you have never used before. A ninja who covers ignorance with false confidence is a fool. Never be afraid to ask for clarification." Then like a switch had been thrown, Kakashi flipped back to his usual teasing tone, "Even if the shinobi in charge is a sexist bastard."
Sakura often forgot how insightful her former sensei could be. Shame pressed into her chest and felt hot in her throat. Here she was acting like a little girl, when she should have been acting like a shinobi. Her actions more than anything proved the baka sealer right in his prejudice. The heavy silence held for another minute or two of travel before Kakashi began explaining the functions of the teleportation scrolls so that Sakura could understand. Somewhere in the middle of the impromptu lesson, Sakura realized that, while Kakashi was chronically late, migraine inducing, and downright crazy, she had missed him just as much as she missed Naruto.
Petunia Dursley contemplated her nephew as he stood before her with her sister's defiant eyes. It wasn't a practice she usually employed. Most of the time she could hardly stand to look at the boy, but over the past week, he had been acting strange. At first she had blamed his abnormality, but now that she thought about it, he was probably behaving more normally now than he ever had. After all, what type of normal child consented to chores with the kind of obedience that the boy has for years? When her Dudders was still in diapers, the boy was not only starting some basic house and yard-work, but cooking as well! He was a freak like his parents, this fact had never been in question; but he was never like the sweet, yet willful Lily. He was always an eerily obedient child, doing all of his chores without question, and with a focus that was just plain disturbing. Even as a baby, she recalled, he rarely cried.
Yet a week ago something changed. At first it was small acts of defiance. He would leave some weeds in the beds, burn the bacon, and half heartedly clean the rooms, when before all of his chores were done perfectly. The boy was punished of course. They shut him in the cupboard without supper…perhaps too many times. But it didn't seem to matter; he always came out more defiant than before. She started to feel unsettled when she saw him, and now she realized why. The dull green of the boy's eyes had a new fire in them. Now more than ever they resembled Lily's eyes, and she didn't know how she felt about that. However, this last act of defiance was one that she could not let pass. The boy refused to do anything. Refused! As if he had the right to! She needed to put her foot down now before the boy got completely out of hand. Yet, with Lily's eyes glaring defiantly at her out of that wretched Potter's face, she found herself hesitating. Luckily, her husband had the day off and must have heard, bellowing out a furious, "BOY!" from the kitchen entrance. Petunia gratefully stepped back. Vernon could deal with the boy without this ridiculous indecision.
Harry froze, wide green eyes focusing on the imposing figure framed in the kitchen doorway. He had been sure that his uncle had left for work hours ago. Over the past week he had been testing the boundaries of his relatives' tolerance, and he had found a slight weakening in his aunt's prejudice against him. Ever since the moment when he realized that his relatives would never love him, Harry had been planning this moment when he would refuse to do any chores at all, just like Dudley. He was almost positive that Petunia wouldn't know what to do with his new defiance. From this day onward, he was determined to make his life better, with or without his relative's permission. Yet, in all of his planning he never thought of Vernon. Vernon, who hated him without the guilt of knowing his mother. Vernon, who always gave him his worst punishments, sometimes whole days locked in his cupboard without food. Vernon, who stood, his face an ugly purple, a few feet away and looking more furious than Harry had ever seen him. He seemed to fill the entire hall as he lumbered forward, fists clenched. Harry attempted to step back in response; but his back hit the door to his cupboard. He half turned to run down the hall, but was stopped by a meaty fist gripping the front of his oversized t-shirt and yanking him up onto his toes to come nose-to-nose with his uncle.
Suddenly afraid, Harry struggled futilely in his uncle's grasp, as Vernon breathed sharply through his nose and spoke through gritted teeth, "How dare you…you freak talk to my wife like that in my own house!" He shook Harry to emphasize the point. "Well, let me tell you! I will not allow it! Petunia!" The last was directed behind him at his wife standing still, and white-faced by the kitchen door, "We agreed to wait and see if the boy grew out of his parents freakishness, and this bloody well proves he won't. He's been a defiant little bastard for days! Now we're doing this my way." Vernon turned back to his nephew, only to blink in surprise as he realized he was clutching an empty sweater.
Ducking out of his oversized sweater, Harry didn't stop to think, just ran as fast as he could past his motionless aunt, through the kitchen and toward the back door.
He didn't make it that far.
A large hand grasped the loose material of Harry's shirt and yanked him off his feet. Landing painfully on his back, Harry gasped for breath while trying to roll over and make another break for it, but it was too late. Vernon had clamped his hand around Harry's skinny arm. Dragging the struggling boy into the living room, Vernon yelled, "Petunia, get me my cane!"
Harry knew what was coming. How many times had Vernon threatened to beat the life out of him if he embarrassed the family? But the threats had always been empty, and Vernon had never done anything worse than boxing him around the ears and shoving him a little harder than necessary into his cupboard.
Shaking in fear and looking wildly around for an escape route or a distraction, Vernon had to give his arm a violent shake to get Harry's attention again. In the back of his mind, Harry noted that his arm would have finger-shaped bruises in an hour, but most of Harry's attention was on the purple face looming over him.
"You know you deserve this, little freak," Vernon snarled, spittle hitting Harry's face, "You knew what would happen when you refused to do your chores. Did you think you could just freeload here, when we took you in out of the goodness of our hearts? Even though we knew you were a freak, we let you live here, and even gave you the clothes from our son's back and the food from our table. If I had it my way; I would dumped you at the nearest orphanage that first day. But your Aunt begged me to keep you, said that we could teach you different. She said that growing up in a proper family away from the other freaks would prevent you from becoming a freak too, but she was wrong!"
It was at this moment that Petunia enter the living room, looking a little pale and holding a long, wooden cane in her shaking hands. Vernon's voice immediately softened, like a switch had been thrown, "Thank you Pet, just give it to me here. A good beating builds character. Remember what Marge said?"
Petunia looked as if she had swallowed her own tongue, and just nodded, jerkily, handing over the cane and leaving the living room without once looking at Harry, who was thinking hysterically of Dudley who had never received as much as a slap on the wrist his entire life, and what that made him if beatings build character. The hysterical laughter that was probably sobs froze in his chest as Vernon turned from where his wife had left the room and fixed his mean little eyes on Harry.
It crossed Harry's mind to apologize, to beg for forgiveness or mercy. But Harry knew that look in Vernon's eyes very well. He saw it in Dudley's eyes when he got in the mood to play Harry Hunting. It was the look of a man who wanted to hurt someone just to make himself feel better, whether that person deserved the pain or not. In any case, Harry hadn't begged for forgiveness from the Dursleys in years, and something inside him, whether it was pride or stupid stubbornness, Harry didn't know, just refused to give Vernon the satisfaction. So as stoic as possible, and trying to ignore the tears dripping down his cheeks, Harry followed Vernon's instructions to bend over the ottoman, and wait for the first strike of the cane.
WHAP!
"Count them out, boy!"
"One."
Itachi was livid.
Itachi kept up a light surveillance on Harry Potter's house, taking time to survey the situation outside the Hidden Villages. There was not much to report. The Outside was just as ignorant of his world as they've ever been. So, it did not take long for him to realize the situation in the house had changed, past the familial resemblance, the boy had been too thin, much too thin and small for his age, which, according to various sources, was four. Without that knowledge, Itachi would have assumed the boy to be three. Now, watching his cousin leave the house, obviously stiff from injuries to his back, Itachi knew that he needed to rethink his plans.
Abuse was one thing that was never tolerated in the Uchiha clan. It couldn't be when half the clan was part of the Konoha Police; and even as Itachi remembered hours of practice at an extremely young age, pushing his body past its limits, he could not deny that his parents had cared for him when he was Harry's age. His mother had never given up trying to understand him, even at the end.
Itachi's gut clenched in familiar pain when his thoughts touched on That Day, then it passed and he took stock of the changed situation. His cousin was suffering from neglect, and now physical abuse. It made liquid rage pool in his stomach to see a child that so resembled Sasuke so obviously injured with no one to take care of him. But the Konaha team was at most a week away, and breaking cover now would compromise the mission.
It would be hard enough to get Harry into Konoha, him being an outsider. Harry's youth, his obviously untrained body, and his pedigree would play key parts in gaining him access. But if Itachi were to interfere in the boy's life before Konoha ninja arrived, then the boy would immediately be suspected of being in league with him. And whether it was true or not, Harry would be shadowed by his brief association with Itachi for the rest of his life. In his report to Jiraiya, Itachi had made the personal request that Harry be left ignorant of his heritage unless absolutely necessary. He couldn't ruin Harry's chance as a ninja before he even considered the possibility.
No, he could not intervene, not yet. But with every whimper from the child's throat as he painfully bent over flower beds, Itachi thought of a new way to make the Durselsy's last moments as painful as possible.