A.N. I am fully aware that this kind of idea has been done to death but lately I've been stuck in a Potter mad phase and I can't seem to get rid of it, so this is my method of coping. I've never actually written anything, ever for Harry Potter before and I'm not sure how far I'll be able to take it but I hope to write something decent. That being said, I'm sure there's a lot of people who know the official story a lot better than me. I've always been more interested by the earlier books / movies, so if anyone has any suggestions at any time, please let me know.

This will be an amalgamation of the book and films and I will be making some major alterations to the original story, but that's what the A.U stands for :) I apologise for the long note and thank you to anyone who took the time to read it. Now, on with the story.

Chapter 1 - You May Know A Man By The Company He Keeps

It was a decidedly dark night that surrounded Privet Drive as Harry slept fitfully in his bed. His room was in a state of disarray which reflected the state of the Wizarding world at large.

Cornelius Fudge had been practically thrown from his beloved office and the now vacant position of Minister for Magic had seen an abundance of candidates since his 'resignation' a week ago. Even Harry, being somewhat out of touch with the magical world in Privet Drive had been aware of the scandal that surrounded Fudge's last days as Minister. With the, now, undisputed return of Lord Voldemort, people had been quick to deny any support of Fudge even though the man had somehow retained a position at the Ministry.

The main headline of the most recent Daily Prophet that Harry had acquired, though already several days old read:

WIZENGAMOT MAJORITY SAID TO BACK ALBUS DUMBLEDORE FOR MINISTER.

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., D. Wiz., X.J.(sorc.), S. of Mag.Q, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Headmaster of Hogwarts became the source of many a debate as rumours spread of his possible appointment to office.

One Ministry official, who wished to remain anonymous says that, 'Dumbledore has been on the front lines of Light magic as long as many of us can remember, and certainly, should he wish to become Minister there would be few vocal oppositions.' However, Dumbledore, in a rare press interview stated the following, 'I have no intention of succeeding Cornelius and I have high hopes that a new Minister will be soon be appointed.'

Recent talk of Dumbledore being unfit for leadership seem to have quickly faded with the absence of a strong leader and many are shocked by this resistance to lead the Ministry. It has been noted several times that Dumbledore has refused the position of Minister and even in the face of his denial, many take comfort in this recent development.

Most noted for his defeat of the Dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald in 1945...

The extensive article continued for several pages and Harry was sure he knew it by heart. It was easy to forget just how important the Headmaster was when Harry was still so confused. He knew, on reflection, that Dumbledore had tried to act in Sirius' best interests and that the man didn't deserve full blame for his beloved godfather's death, but it wasn't so easy to dismiss his anger. Harry had trusted Dumbledore and though the old wizard had explained his reasoning, it had all but destroyed his faith in the man after an entire year of being ignored, of not even been looked at.

However, at this point in time, Harry Potter was tossing violently on his lumpy mattress while his mind wrestled with what had quickly become his most vivid and reoccurring nightmare to date, and considering the sheer amount of nightmares he was cursed with, he didn't make such a statement lightly.

Since his return from Hogwarts only two weeks ago, Harry was sure he'd had less then ten hours of uninterrupted, nightmare free sleep and it had long since begun to show. His skin was sallow and though already slim to start with, he was beginning to appear skeletal with stark, bruise like shadows under his eyes. He made a point never to leave the house unless he could help it and he'd written only once to Ron and Hermione, not because he didn't care, but because he couldn't escape the shadows in his mind. Perhaps, Harry thought, he could keep them safe, keep them out of the curse of never ending danger that seemed to surround him, if he let them drift away.

In his nightmares Harry had watched and was watching Sirius fall through the Veil all the while he was unable to stop it. He'd seen different versions where his friends, not only Sirius died in front of him and he didn't want to see it happen in reality. It was bad enough in his sleep.

Once again, as the nightmare reached its crescendo, Harry jolted awake, breathing heavily as he sat upright in his bed. He barely heard Hedwig chirp in concern from her cage on his desk as he tried to control his ragged breathing. As he did so, he could feel his tension and fear slowly begin to fade away remarkably quickly. When he could eventually hear something other than his pulse thudding in his ears, he heard the melodic sounds of a bird singing. He knew it wasn't Hedwig; Hedwig didn't sing like that. This song was far more emotional and magical than any normal animal could sing and it seemed to even have the ability to soothe Harry's fears which was a remarkable feat in and of itself.

After a few minutes he reached out for his glasses and saw, with the aid of the dim glow from the street lights which permeated through the thin curtains, that Fawkes the phoenix was perched innocently atop his desk beside Hedwig's cage. Blinking in a mix of surprise and confusion, Harry sat up on shaky limbs and watched as the phoenix stopped singing and flew the short distance across to him.

"...Fawkes?" Harry murmured.

The bird regarded him with wide, expressive eyes and Harry couldn't help but give a small, half hearted smile in return. It was only when Fawkes landed softly on his bed that he noticed the piece of parchment attached to the phoenix's leg which he took with shaking hands. He flicked on the light and unrolled the small scroll and the slanted calligraphy was painfully familiar to him.

Harry,

I won't burden you with a repeat of all that I said last term and though I know I more than deserve both your anger and your distrust, I beg you to read this letter.

As you are no doubt aware, the Wizard world lies at the precipice of chaos and, as you likely may not be aware, I am taking the necessary and unenviable steps in an attempt to circumvent disaster. In this, you have more than proven that you deserve the opportunity to be included.

If you are agreeable, I shall call at number four Privet Drive to discuss this with you on Friday night at eleven p.m, I will take us both to Hogwarts to explain this in detail to you in a attempt to illustrate my point, afterwards you will return home safely.

It is a poor consolation for the wrongs I have done you, but now I leave the decision to you, as I should always have done from the beginning. Fawkes will remain with you to await your response.

Yours,

Albus Dumbledore.

It was short and more or less to the point, although what that point actually was, Harry wasn't sure. On closer inspection Harry saw that the writing appeared rushed and it was less elegant than usual but he was too tried to try and over think the issue.

It was now in the early hours of Wednesday morning, he learned by checking the battered clock on his desk and he knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep for a while. It was also much too early for his Aunt or Uncle to be awake so he couldn't go and ask them for chores to do to take his mind off things, which he'd been doing since his return. He'd long since learned that they didn't like it when he surprised them by cleaning a room to please them, they had to order him to do it otherwise they'd only get angry with him and Harry had enough to worry about with adding a furious Aunt and Uncle to the mix.

So, without further thought Harry threw off the covers and sat at his desk, taking out his quill, ink and paper from his already open and messy school trunk on the floor. As he made to put quill to parchment he froze, realising that he didn't have the slightest idea of what to write. A year ago he would've been overjoyed at hearing from his headmaster in the holidays, now though he wasn't quite sure what to think. He wanted to be kept informed this year, he knew he'd more than earned that right but could he look Dumbledore in the eyes again after he'd practically destroyed the mans' office in a fit of blind rage? Would he feel that same anger again if he saw the Headmaster again so soon? Harry didn't know, but if he wanted to be kept informed, he supposed he'd have to try. He knew he wasn't just angry at Dumbledore but also at himself for being deceived by Voldemort. However, he knew that if Dumbledore hadn't ignored him all year, then he could've asked the man about his dreams and avoided Sirius' death.

It slowly dawned on Harry that he'd been doing the same thing for the last few weeks in attempting to save his friends. He didn't want them getting hurt or worse in trying to help him. Dumbledore had distanced himself from Harry to, in his mind, protect him and Harry was forced to admit that the man had been wrong. It had only made things worse. Maybe he shouldn't be attempting to do the same now.

He wrote a brief affirmation to Dumbledore in the form a simple, emotionless sentence and gave it to Fawkes before he had the chance to change his mind. The Phoenix vanished with one last trill, in a flash of fire which answered Harry's question of how the bird had gained entrance to the room in the absence of an open window.

With nothing else to do, Harry pulled out his school books and settled down to read as much as he could. Hermione would be proud of him.

When Friday night finally came Harry was nervous to say the least. He'd written to Ron and Hermione about Dumbledore's brief letter and they were just as confused as he was. He spent the last two days in a haze of chores, school work and a lack of sleep and he'd not thought to tell his uncle that Dumbledore was meant to be arriving. So when he heard a sharp knock at the door and a loud; "Who in the blazes is calling at this time of night?!" from Vernon, Harry jumped from his desk chair in his room and ran down the stairs to hear his headmaster speak.

"Good evening, you must be Mr. Dursely, I dare say Harry told you I'd be coming?" Dumbledore said as Vernon eyed him with nothing short of blatant disapproval. His pale blue robes, white beard and long hair epitomising everything that the Dursely's despised in the wizard world. "Judging by your look of stunned belief it seems not. However, let us assume you have invited me into your house, these are dangerous times after all."

"Dangerous times?" Vernon ground out.

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded once and strode gracefully past the larger man, into the house. "Petunia, I presume, Albus Dumbledore, we have corresponded, of course," he said seeing the woman standing in the living room, "And this must be your son, Dudley," he deduced.

Dudley, like his mother seemed to want to get as far away from this man as possible, while he squirmed uneasily in his chair, she breathed deeply and shuffled her feet nervously. Vernon, on the other hand looked about ready to burst with anger and the throbbing vein on his forehead, that Harry was so used to seeing, threatened to blow.

"...Sir?" Harry spoke, leaning against the doorframe at the other end of the room.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore turned his attention to him with a much more kindly aura about him. "You need a shave, my friend," he remarked and Harry absentmindedly scrubbed a hand across his chin. Not knowing what to say he thought it best not to say anything at all. He watched as the old wizard sighed, "You are perhaps wary of me," Dumbledore suggested, "Or concerned that I am an imposter?"

"...Erm..."

"If it is the former, it's perfectly understandable, if the latter perhaps I can alleviate your fears by telling you that in your first year at Hogwarts when you saw your family in the Mirror of Erised I told you that I saw myself holding a pair of socks."

Harry only nodded in response as he continued, "First off," Dumbledore said in a business-like tone, helping to alleviate Harry's nervousness. "Is a matter of some urgency that I would like to address before we leave - if you wish it - that being the specifics of Sirius' will. The contents of which are fairly straightforwards in that he left everything to you..."

"His godfather's dead?" Vernon exclaimed rudely.

"Yes," Dumbledore said simply, without turning to look at the man, "The problem, Harry, is the legacy of the Black family house..."

"He gets a house?" Dudley yelled in a manner like his father but Dumbledore paid him no heed.

"...Which could be enchanted to limit it's ownership to pure blooded descendants of the Black linage. If such an enchantment exists then despite Sirius' will, the house will pass to his next living relative Bellatrix Lestrange."

"No!" Harry cried out before he could stop himself.

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed, pulling out his wand from his sleeve, "However, I have a simple test, you see, if you have indeed inherited the house then you have also inherited..." he said with a flick of his wrist, "...Kreacher."

"What the bloody hell is that thing?!" Vernon demanded.

"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't..." the small, cruel looking house elf shouted after appearing in the middle of the room.

"Give him an order, Harry, if you are his master then he must obey," Dumbledore said over the elf's constant yelling.

"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't..."

"Kreacher, shut up!" Harry screamed. The house elf, though extremely reluctant, squirmed on the floor, clutching his ears and clamping his mouth shut, quickly became silent.

"Well, that makes things very simple, it seems you are the rightful owner of 12 Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher," Dumbledore told Harry.

"Do I...have to keep him with me?" he asked with a grimace.

"No, you don't, might I suggest you send him to work in the Hogwarts kitchens where the other house elves can keep him out of trouble."

"Yeah, Kreacher, I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens...and stay there," Harry ordered the elf who nodded with a look of deepest and utmost loathing before disappearing.

"Secondly, there is the matter of Buckbeak, he too is yours now. Hagrid has been caring for him for the last two weeks, but it is up to you what we do..."

"He can stay with Hagrid," Harry interjected quickly, not making eye contact with the old wizard.

Dumbledore lightly bowed his head in acknowledgment, "Now, you will recall my letter..."

"What did you mean?" Harry couldn't help but ask, "Last term you said you would tell me everything...sir..."

"I did," the wizard agreed, "And I will, but to do so I must impose further on your already overtaxed patience. I suggest I apparate us both to my office, if you are agreeable."

"You're taking the boy?" Vernon demanded.

"For a few hours, I expect," Dumbledore nodded, "As you know, the Dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort had returned and as a result, the Wizarding community is in a state of open warfare. Harry, who has been targeted since he was a child is now in even more danger than on the day I left him on your doorstep with the wish that you would raise him as your own. You did not do as I asked," he said, the air in the room becoming colder. "You have never treated Harry as a son, he has known nothing but neglect and cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you haven inflicted on your own son."

"What?!" Vernon and Petunia yelled but Dumbledore raised a hand for silence and they obeyed without thought.

"The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can call this house home. However mistreated, unwelcome or miserable, you have grudgingly allowed him house room. This magic will cease the moment that Harry turns seventeen so I ask only that you allow him to return once more before his seventeenth birthday to ensure that this protection continues," he told the rather shell shocked Dursely's.

He then turned to Harry who hadn't moved an inch, "And now, Harry, if you would please take my arm."

Harry walked across to Dumbledore and without another word, he and the older wizard disapparated from Privet Drive, leaving the Dursley's open mouthed and disgusted by such a blatant display of magic.