Chapter One

Dumbledore's True Colours

Harry Potter sat in the middle of the floor of his room at number four Privet Drive in Little Whinging. staring at the letter that had recently been delivered by one of the owls from his school. Now while it might be strange for a school to have owls, let alone owls that deliver letters and parcels, it was quite normal for Harry's school to have them. This is because Harry did not go to a normal school, he went to a school where young witches and wizards learned how to control and use their magic abilities, and in the magical world owls were the standard method of delivering mail. The reason Harry was in Little Whinging and not at school was because one week ago school had ended for summer vacation, and it had decidedly been the longest week of his life.

When he had gotten out of his uncle's car and the man still hadn't said a single word to him he knew that the summer wasn't going to be an enjoyable one. Not that summers spent with the Dursleys ever were, but something about the gleam in his uncle's eye and the slight smirk on his lips had told him that this one was going to be less so than usual. He was ordered to take his things up to the attic, which is where he was to stay for the duration of the summer. The 'room' was completely bare of all furnishings save a small bare mattress in one corner. The roof rose to just over seven feet in the centre and quickly dropped to a little less than two feet on the sides. In the middle of the summer with the hot sun blaring down on the black roof the room's temperature would rise to unbearable levels. This was his prison; this was his cell for the next two months. His uncle had grumbled something about him being allowed out for the bathroom twice a day and his aunt bringing him his meals. It was just like the summer after first year, though this time there were no bars on the windows. Bars of course would have brought too much attention since one of two small round windows faced out onto the street. This meant to Hedwig's delight that she could go out hunting and wouldn't be cooped up in a too small cage all summer.

On day four of his imprisonment he finished all of the summer homework, Hermione would be proud. On day five he wrote to all of his close friends (Ron and Hermione) asking for food, all of his not so close friends (the twins, and Neville) to see how the joke business was progressing and clarifying something from his herbology essay, Professor Lupin, and his godfather. He made sure to leave out the details of his new room out since he didn't want them to worry (and do something stupid that would get them caught by auror's or death eaters) and now was waiting for their replies. On day six he developed a rigorous, three-hour exercise program that would, hopefully, keep him in shape for quidditch while being locked in an attic all summer and read the books that Hermione had kept giving him as gifts over the years.

He wasn't really getting any sleep, just a few short moments here and there, but he preferred it that way. The lack of sleep was due to the fact that whenever he did sleep he had horrible nightmares of his parents and/or Cedric Diggory dying. His brain knew that he wasn't to blame for their deaths but the rest of him kept thinking that if he hadn't been there or that if he had just moved a little faster that there would be three more people alive today than there was.

On day seven he received the letter that had him sitting shocked in the middle of his room. No, he wasn't shocked he decided, he should have figured as much, he wasn't shocked he was angry. A-N-G-R-Y. He felt the anger rising up inside him, four years of schooling had taught him what this was and he focused his anger on the window facing out onto the backyard. The window quickly became filled with a spider's web of hairline cracks, as he felt the anger start to recede he concentrated on the envisioning a perfect, crack-free window and in a blink of an eye the window was as good as new.

A few minutes passed and when a letter from Miranda Hopflick did not arrive he decided that the ministry could not detect wandless magic and returned his attention to the letter from his school's headmaster.

Dear Mr. Potter

It has been brought to my attention that you have recently sent out a large batch of letters. While I can understand you feel a need to keep in touch with your friends you must be more careful. While it is highly unlikely for anyone to take notice of your friends receiving owls, as they all either are from wizarding families or receive regular letters from wizarding post, it will draw unneeded attention to yourself. It is necessary for you to keep a low profile and though I know you will probably be bored this summer, having to spend it all indoors, you must understand that it is necessary. Remember that things could be worse, you could be spending the summer the same as you did before you started attending Hogwarts. You should keep in touch with snuffles, reassure him that you are having a good summer as he might do something to endanger himself otherwise, but other than that I would highly recommend ceasing all communication with the outside world.

Sincerely;

Albus Dumbledore

That ASSHOLE that fucking asshole, he knew! All these years he had thought the man had just been ignorant of the happenings in this house, but no the man just didn't give a flying fuck. That ASSHOLE!!! Harry paced back and forth down the centre of the room; the windows shook under the power of his fury. He needed to do something, something to get his anger under control before he ended up blowing up all of Little Whinging. He tried push-ups, he tried sit-ups, and he tried shadow boxing none of it worked. Finally he grabbed a quill and some parchment and scratched out a letter to Hermione. While Ron was also one of his best friends, Hermione had stuck by him through thick and thin. He didn't want to take the chance that Ron would use this information against him in some future fight.

Dear Hermione I know I just wrote you a letter and you haven't even had time to respond yet but I know if I don't do something... Tell someone then I am liable to explode. Well my magic is, and I don't know what the result would be but let me assure that it wouldn't be good. Did you know the ministry can't detect wandless magic? Or at least wandless magic that doesn't use words? Wanna know how I know? I broke one the windows in my prison cell, okay it's really the attic at the Dursleys' but it's pretty damn close to a prison cell. I get let out for bathroom breaks twice a day and have my meals delivered to me as well (though I'm pretty sure prisoners get fed more than I do). Back to the broken window, well I got really mad today and I ended breaking the window and fixing it again and guess what? No letter from the ministry threatening my expulsion. Pretty cool, huh? Now I'm sure you are wondering why I was so angry. I got a letter from our elustreus headmaster telling me that I shouldn't be sending out letters since they are unnecessary and that I need to keep a low profile which is why I am locked in the attic without anything to fucking do. I am so bloody bored Hermione I can't stand it and I've only been here a week, how the hell am I supposed to survive two bloody fucking months!? I've finished all the homework, read all the books you've given me (you were right about Hogwarts: A History by the way), written everyone, including Neville and I'm about ready to go nuts. The jerk off (Dumbledore) had the bloody nerve to say that at least it wasn't as bad as the summers before I started Hogwarts and that I should lie to snuffles about how my summer is going so that he won't do anything about it. I am NOT going to lie to him, he is the closest thing I have to a father and fucked up childhood or not even I know you are not supposed to lie to your parents, especially about this kind of stuff. You know what the real kicker is? The fact that now I know for a fact that Dumbledore knows what the Dursleys used to do to me. I know I've never told you guys this stuff, I just didn't want you guys to worry about me especially since they haven't done anything since Hagrid came with my Hogwarts letter. I'm not going to lie to you now though, things were bad 'mione, real bad. And the fact that that asshole knew and didn't do a single fucking thing to help me, it just makes all the memories that much worse. The worst part is that until today I thought of him as a grandfather, someone whom I could trust no matter what, and now I know that he's just as bad as Uncle Vernon. I now trust Snape more than I do Dumbledore. Snape treats me the way he does because he thinks I had a pampered childhood, which is probably Dumbledore's doing again (the meddling asshole), but he has never tried to hurt me. Quite the opposite actually, he looks after me tries to keep me safe. I am quite frankly the golden boy of Hogwarts, rules bend like rubber around me because in their eyes I can do no wrong. If my life was as great and wonderful as he thinks it is, I would be in danger of having an ego to rival Draco Malfoy's. But Dumbledore…he left me to be…well I'd rather not get into the specifics. I just can't believe he did that. I know you respect Dumbledore and you're probably ready to lecture me on giving teachers proper respect and that he probably has his reasons for doing what he did but in my mind no reason is good enough for what I had to endure for the first eleven years of my life. I needed to let this out and you're the only one I feel I can trust one hundred and forty-five percent. You are the only one I can be sure who won't use the stuff I've told you against me in some future argument no matter how petty. If you want to ignore this letter and pretend it never happened I will understand I just really needed to let this all out before I did something stupid, by accident or on purpose. Your Friend For Now and Always

Harry

As Hermione finished her best friend's letter the tears rolled down her cheeks in a constant stream. The pain and anger that was laced into the letter was tangible. She could easily imagine Harry breaking the window, and fixing it again. There were numerous occasions when Harry had gotten really emotional and she had felt his power just rolling off of him.

"Hermione, dear? What's wrong? Why are you crying?" Hermione handed her mother Harry's letter. They had been sitting at the kitchen table just finishing dinner when Harry's letter had arrived. Her mother read the letter, holding her hand over her mouth in shock. 'The poor boy' was all she could think. She pulled her daughter into her arms and comforted her as the young gryffindor cried in anger, frustration, and sorrow for the pain her best friend was constantly forced to go through.

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