Shadows at Privet Drive

The summer sun burned hot over Little Whinging, casting harsh shadows over the perfectly trimmed lawns and identical houses of Privet Drive. Inside Number Four, the atmosphere was just as oppressive. The Dursleys, for all their usual cruelty and disdain toward Harry, had grown... uneasy.

Harry noticed the shift the moment he returned from Hogwarts. Aunt Petunia's usual shrill commands had softened to mumbled suggestions, while Uncle Vernon's belligerent grumbling had reduced to occasional glares over the top of his newspaper. Even Dudley, who had always made a sport out of tormenting Harry, kept his distance, sneaking wary glances at him from across the room.

At first, Harry didn't understand the change in their behavior, but now, as he lay awake in his small room, staring at the ceiling, he knew. **They could feel it**—the power that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. The Sharingan had awakened something in him, and though he hadn't fully grasped its limits yet, he could already sense its effect on those around him.

They feared him.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Harry's lips as he let that thought settle. It wasn't just the Dursleys who had changed since the end of the school year. **He** had changed too. He could feel it in every fiber of his being—his mind sharper, his body stronger, his magic more powerful. But it was the eyes, the Sharingan, that had truly transformed him. He could see things now, things he hadn't noticed before—subtle movements, the way people breathed, the minute shifts in their expressions.

Everything was clearer. And more than that, everything was under his control.

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### **Scene: The Dursleys' Unease**

The next morning, the usual clatter of breakfast reached Harry's ears from downstairs. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the air, but Harry remained in bed, staring at the small, cracked mirror hanging on the wall opposite him. His reflection stared back, but his eyes... his eyes were different. The once-bright emerald green had dulled slightly, overtaken by the dark, swirling red of the Sharingan whenever his emotions surged.

He could feel the power behind them, like a low hum in his mind, always present, always waiting to be used.

His stomach growled, and with a sigh, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He moved with a grace and speed that felt unnatural, his body responding more quickly than it ever had before. It was like his muscles already knew what he wanted to do before he even thought about it.

Downstairs, the Dursleys were sitting around the breakfast table, their conversation stilted and awkward. Uncle Vernon's face was redder than usual, his mustache twitching as he chewed angrily. Aunt Petunia kept glancing at the clock, as if wishing for time to move faster, and Dudley... well, Dudley was doing what he did best—stuffing his face.

As Harry entered the kitchen, the room fell silent.

"Boy," Uncle Vernon growled after a long pause, not meeting Harry's gaze. "We've decided... no funny business this summer. You'll keep your head down, stay in your room, and we won't have any... incidents."

Harry's eyes narrowed, the Sharingan threatening to surface as his irritation spiked. **Incidents?** Did they still think they could control him? That they had any say in what he did or didn't do?

He stepped forward, his footsteps soft but deliberate, and the effect was immediate. Uncle Vernon stiffened, his knuckles going white as he gripped his fork. Aunt Petunia shrank into her chair, her thin fingers trembling as she adjusted the napkin in her lap.

Dudley, sensing the tension, glanced up from his plate, his small eyes darting nervously between Harry and his father.

Harry said nothing as he approached the table, but his eyes—now flickering between their normal green and the crimson of the Sharingan—spoke volumes. He could see the fear, the uncertainty, the way his relatives recoiled from him, and something inside him reveled in it. For years, they had treated him like dirt, but now... now, things were different.

"I'll do what I want," Harry said softly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "And you won't stop me."

Uncle Vernon opened his mouth, but no words came out. His face had gone a pale, sickly color, his bravado faltering under Harry's gaze. Aunt Petunia let out a small, strangled gasp, and Dudley... Dudley's fork clattered to the floor as he shrank back in his seat.

Harry didn't bother to hide the smirk that curved his lips as he turned and left the kitchen, leaving the Dursleys to sit in stunned silence. As he walked back to his room, he couldn't help but feel a strange satisfaction bubbling up inside him. For the first time in his life, he wasn't the one who was afraid.

---

### **Scene: Experimentation with Power**

The days passed slowly at Privet Drive, each one blending into the next. But for Harry, every moment was an opportunity to experiment. He spent hours locked in his small room, his wand in hand, practicing spells and focusing on the new abilities granted to him by the Sharingan.

He found that with the eyes activated, his understanding of magic grew exponentially. Spells that had once taken him weeks to master now felt easy—too easy. He could break them down, understand their mechanics, and replicate them with near-perfect accuracy.

More than that, he could see the magic itself. He could track the flow of energy, the way the wand movements connected to the caster's intent, the way the spells themselves twisted through the air. It was mesmerizing, and Harry found himself growing more and more absorbed in the pursuit of power.

But it wasn't just magic. The Sharingan seemed to enhance his physical abilities as well. His reflexes were sharper, his movements quicker, and he could predict actions before they even happened. He tested this in the quiet hours of the night, moving silently through the house, avoiding creaky floorboards, slipping past closed doors without making a sound. It was as if he could feel the world around him in ways he never had before.

And then there were the Dursleys. Harry couldn't resist testing his abilities on them—just small things, at first. A flick of his fingers, a subtle shift in his gaze, and suddenly Dudley would trip over his own feet. Or Aunt Petunia would forget what she was doing in the middle of making dinner, staring blankly at the stove until Harry released her from the hold he didn't even fully understand yet.

But the most disturbing thing was how easy it was. He didn't need to try. The Sharingan did it for him.

One evening, as Harry sat in his room, the light from the setting sun casting long shadows across the floor, he heard a knock at the door.

"Boy," Uncle Vernon's gruff voice called from the other side. "We're going out. Don't cause any trouble while we're gone."

Harry didn't respond. He waited until he heard the front door slam shut and the Dursleys' car rumble down the street before standing up. His body thrummed with energy, the familiar pull of the Sharingan beckoning him. Without hesitation, he activated the eyes and glanced out the window, watching the world shift around him as everything became clearer, more defined.

He didn't just want to practice magic tonight—he wanted to push the limits of what he could do.

---

### **Scene: The Genjutsu Experiment**

Harry had read about the art of illusion in one of the books he'd stolen from the Restricted Section, but with the Sharingan, he instinctively understood it. He could bend reality, warp the perceptions of others, and control their minds with just a glance.

A cold smile spread across his face as he thought of the Dursleys.

When they returned that night, Harry was waiting. Sitting at the top of the stairs, he watched as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia shuffled inside, tired and irritated. Dudley, as usual, was whining about something, his voice grating on Harry's nerves.

Harry stood, moving down the stairs with an eerie calm.

"Where were you?" he asked, though the words were more for show than out of any real curiosity.

Uncle Vernon grumbled something unintelligible, but Harry barely registered it. His focus was on their minds—the way they were so easily influenced, so vulnerable to manipulation.

He stared at Uncle Vernon, his Sharingan flickering to life. The world around him slowed, and he could see the shift in his uncle's expression as the genjutsu took hold. Vernon's face slackened, his eyes growing dull and unfocused.

"I think," Harry whispered, his voice dangerously soft, "that you're going to be a little more... cooperative from now on, don't you?"

Uncle Vernon nodded, his movements slow and mechanical. Aunt Petunia stood frozen beside him, her eyes wide and fearful.

Harry felt a dark thrill rise inside him as he released the spell, leaving his relatives standing in stunned silence. He had tested his power, and it had worked. Too well.

But instead of fear or guilt, all Harry felt was satisfaction. This was the power he had craved—the control he had never had before. And now that he had it, he wasn't going to let it go.

As he returned to his room, the whispers in the back of his mind grew louder, feeding his hunger for more. This was only the beginning.

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