Chapter One

Harry watched a small pearl drop of ink slowly fall until it splashed against the surface of his desk. It was finished after hours and hours of writing, rewriting, and starting all over again. His whole bedroom was littered with the failed attempts, but finally decided not to add this version to the pile. This one was right.

He leaned back and let out a tired yawn, thankful to feel the muscles in his back finally relaxing just enough to take away that throbbing pain he'd been feeling at the bottom of his spine. Slaving over homework had never been as painful as that evening had been.

It was only his first evening at Number Four, and already he felt as if he'd been there a lifetime. Earlier in the day he had said goodbye to his friends and handed himself over to the mercy of his aunt and uncle – both of whom where not at all pleased about the threats they had received. Thankfully though, their fear of the magical world kept them at bay enough to ensure Harry had taken nothing but a short scolding and cold shoulder as punishment.

In light of the new perspective the Dursley's had gained on Harry – most importantly how many dangerous friends he had interested in his well-being – there had been something of a family meeting to discuss what would happen that summer. Harry was more than aware of how much he'd been used in the past, and had driven a very hard bargain. He now was chore-free, and the only condition to this was that he stayed to his room and out of the Dursley's sight, sending his note to the Order of the Phoenix every third day. It was a very good arrangement he believed.

In concern to how he had been used in the past – well, that was what his labour had been focused on for the duration of the evening. It had taken hours, but finally he had managed to complete his letter to a certain Albus Dumbledore. It was funny, he had come to realize, how it was always the closest people to you that could hurt you worst. Dumbledore had lied and manipulated him for years, probably never feeling guilt for exploiting Harry's trust. Sirius had hurt Harry in a completely different way, but that wasn't really his fault.

Sirius was something he would have to deal with later. He knew he would have to mourn, but all that he could think of, probably because of the family meeting earlier, was Dumbledore's manipulation of him. Sirius was pushed aside to be dealt with later – first Harry needed to make it clear where he stood.

He looked down at the letter in front of him and let out a long, hopefully calm breath. It came out slightly shaky though, and he knew that deep inside he was all but scared of actually having Dumbledore read his work. The anger and pain came so easily when he was in the mood, remembering the sleepless nights and how so many outcomes could have changed if Dumbledore had just told him a few sentences. Reading his words though when finished made him realize that Dumbledore probably wasn't the best man to antagonise. It would be very unwise of him to get such a powerful man angry at him.

It was with a quick glance over the parchment that Harry found that he couldn't really care. Behind the brief spells of anger, pain, and depression, he was beginning to find himself travelling more and more into a void of emotion where he just didn't seem to feel at all. It was a sense of detachment that made him not care for the consequences, or even others feelings. He just felt…tired. Tired of caring.

With a small glance at a sleeping Hedwig he tried to contemplate once more the problems that would most likely arise from the letter, and more than likely the lack of answers as well. Dumbledore at his best was famous for his riddles and vague answers. When Harry felt on good terms with him he never gained a truly satisfactory answer – he knew the chances of him getting one with the present state of their relationship were very slim.

It only took one more glance at his school trunk to make him decide. The lid was open, and just in view was the photo album Hagrid had given him in his first year. It was one of his most treasured possessions, and reminded him strongly of a past that he knew could have been so different had Dumbledore just told him the Prophecy. He could have prepared, trained – he could have been ready for what he had faced. He could have understood Voldemort was tricking him the previous year and prevented the death of Sirius all together.

No; Sirius wasn't a good topic to breach at the moment. That would be done later – now was the time for action. He would prepare, he would train; only not under the influence of that man he had grown to trust, just to find that trust thrown in his face. He now had both understanding and a purpose – the war that was going to come was his war, and he would fight it.

He finally laid his quill to rest on the desk, glancing briefly at the drops of ink that stained the worn wooden surface before shrugging and turning his gaze back to the letter. One more check, and then he would send it. He wouldn't keep his feelings to himself when something so important was at hand.

Albus Dumbledore,

I trust Hedwig not to be intercepted by any means. She is a good, strong, and loyal owl, and knows my mail is for no one but the proper receiver. If you have a problem with this, please take it upon yourself to find a better means of communication.

A biting opening that immediately gave his mood, and hinted at how Harry felt at the breach of his trust at the hands of Dumbledore. If he thought he had everything planned and plotted like a game of chess then let him think that. It might be interesting to see how he responded to the idea of other means of communication – probably would suddenly agree that owl post was safe enough to save himself the work, or have someone else see to it.

In concern to your office, I apologise for the damage done to it, and will readily pay for any damages.

Harry had made sure not to give any hint of regret for doing the actual damage – he felt none at all. He did hope though that nothing really important had been destroyed; the objects had seemed rather personal to Dumbledore, and he wouldn't wish the destruction of personal items on anyone. He couldn't dream how he would feel if someone damaged his father's invisibility cloak.

In concern to my attitude towards the end of the school year, I apologise to whoever was forced to face it, but by no means for it. I feel it was perfectly justified, and believe many would agree with me on that point.

Keep it formal, sharp, and slightly cold. He didn't want to give Dumbledore the satisfaction of thinking he had a weak spot that could be exploited.

I am not writing this letter for just apologies as you have probably already guessed. This letter is being written to set the line straight.

To the point; that was good. Harry wasn't really great at showing a formal side or sounding calm and collected. He felt he was getting it right this time though.

Concerning the information I learnt towards the end of the school year, I believe I have more than enough right to demand answers and truths about the current situation. I can be a weapon if needs be, but I want to know what I am striking beforehand.

Understanding is something you have denied me far too long. I want the answers to my questions to the greatest extent you can give them. I want to know about my past and my future. I want to know those things you are hiding from me; those things that you have been hiding from me for all these years.

Not telling me the Prophecy, or even about its existence has already cost more than one life. I can only wonder what else you are not telling me, and how many other lives will be claimed because of you not telling me.

I want to know what Voldemort is doing, planning, and even eating. I want to be able to understand my enemy as well as his right-hand man does.

I want to know what protection my friends are getting, and what they are not. Now that I understand the need for me to be kept alive, I'm saying quite clearly that no protection will help me if anything happens to my friends. I have faced it before, and I have escaped it; they haven't. Give them the protection.

I am sure that you will be able to understand the demands I have for the immediate future. I can abide by your rules within reason if you can abide by mine.

Harry Potter

He wondered for a moment what Dumbledore's reaction to the letter would be. Reading it again gave him a cold sensation in the pit of his stomach; one he wasn't familiar with and one he wasn't keen on. The letter got his points across more than clearly though, and that was what was important.

A soft hoot from his right told him it was time to stop thinking, and time to start acting. He carefully folded his finished piece of work and beckoned to Hedwig, allowing himself a small smile as she regally extended her leg to carry the message. He tied it on with care and gently stroked her for a long moment.

"This is for Dumbledore girl – it needs to get there quickly, and I know you won't let anyone else even glimpse it." Hedwig gave him a gentle, reassuring peck before shuffling over to the edge of the desk and peering at the side of the room. Harry followed her gaze and sighed when he realized he hadn't opened the window yet. He forced himself from the chair and moved over.

"Don't stay away too long." He said quietly as Hedwig took flight. It was dark in the streets below, and he couldn't help but think of the threats that awaited him there.