Harry Potter was quite fed up. The Griffindors who shared a dorm with him had long ago realized that the young man had secrets. It was at the final feast of the year, Harry's third, that the whole school learned how very un-sharing the young man really was.

The raised, angry voice was clearly Harry Potter. "I believe the word I used was 'NO'. So let me reiterate that, in plain clearly understood Queen's English as I was taught at primary school, by people that are better teachers than most of the professors here. Over my cold, dead, decayed body will my sister ever set foot in Great Britain, let alone Hogwarts. I have the ability, even the responsibility, to shield her from all this stupidity, and I will do so."

"Harry, my dear boy…" Dumbledore's voice was grandfatherly, patronizing and firm all at once, but he didn't get to complete his sentence.

"Do not call me by my first name. We are not on first name basis. You are not a friend, nor are you family. NEVER ever refer to me as 'boy' again. There is nothing about myself, my family or my possessions that you can lay claim to with the word 'my'. Refrain from doing so. If you recall, Headmaster, I did not know your face or name until AFTER the fiasco of my Hogwarts letters when I was eleven. My sister and I did not know the names you had given us and manipulated into common knowledge until I started school. The beating I got for not answering to Harry Potter in class took me three weeks to heal from. For nearly a full decade we lived with our maternal aunt, and you never bothered to check on us yourself. You depended on Mrs. Figg, a squib who had been treated so terribly by her own family that she had no real understanding of what abuse was. A woman who lived seven houses down and a street over. She only saw either of us when we were outside at the same time as she was, when she could see us out her window, or when the Dursley's left us with her to be babysat. She couldn't tell you about the food that we rarely received. Or how we weren't allowed to get better grades than our cousin. Or how I had to be a human shield for Quin. Or how both of the adults in that house like to throw parties. My aunt thinks she's a real social climber." The two had entered the great hall. Harry looked around and shrugged. "Problem is that she doesn't want to do the work of cooking, cleaning, gardening and improving herself or the community. She likes to sit around and gossip. Who do you think prepared for those teas and bridge parties? I can prepare a seven-course gourmet meal, without assistance from other people, house elves, or magic and have been able to do so since I was six. My uncle on the other hand likes to entertain business clients, as well as perverted sickos. He won't let them touch us, yet. The threat is always there. If we piss him off enough, he'll rent us out by the hour. In the past it has been for household or yard work. I worry that soon it will change into something else, more sinister. It is no wonder that I arranged for Quin to be educated elsewhere and year-round." Harry squared off, face to face with the headmaster. "Our lives with them weren't just devoid of love, or hard, or lonely as you claimed. Our lives in that house are dangerous. And you did nothing to make any of it better. Not from the moment you told Hagrid to take us, literally from the arms of my godfather, by force, and not since I've entered this school."

"My dear boy," Dumbledore tried to speak again.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore, raised his wand tip pointed at the ceiling, and then spoke words that hadn't been heard in Hogwarts in nearly two centuries. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, I name you oath breaker. I name you thief of my wealth, my Line, and my magic. I ask for Magic, in all her forms and divinities, to cast judgement upon you, leaving an immutable, absolute and honest record of all your crimes. I request that Magic ensure that all belongings of the Houses of Potter, Black, and Evans and their ancestral and traditional lines be returned to our vaults. I rescind any hospitality that has been accorded to you. I abjure you. I see you no longer. I hear you no longer. I abjure you by the Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Spirt. I abjure you completely." Harry turned his back on the headmaster and walked to the Gryffindor table.

Dumbledore found himself unable to move or speak. Shock did play a part, of course. He would never have thought that Harry Potter would have Abjured anyone let alone Dumbledore himself. The punishment though, was all Magic's doing. He could feel his soul being tested. His mind was being invaded with every secret extracted. His core began to ache. And then Madame Pomfrey was there in front of him. He felt her levitate his body and remove it from the hall.

Draco Malfoy was impressed. He had never seen that ritual performed before. He knew of it, of course, but it was so very final; calling for Magic to judge and then following that up with an abjurement! Not to mention the power that was felt coming from Potter in waves as he had done so. Draco didn't know whether to wait to tell his father of it in person, or to send a letter off right then and there.

"What set you off, Harry?" Asked Hermione, her quiet, yet unsurprised voice seemed to echo through the nearly silent Great Hall

Harry fixed himself a large mug of warm cider. "I was cornered and interrogated about Quin's acceptance letter. I refuse to let Quin attend this place, especially if the old Nazi conspiratorial goat lover is here."

Hermione simply nodded and began to mix her own tea. "Are you still sending her to the Apollymachi?"

Harry snorted. "I've been sending her there since I started school here. If my fees hadn't been paid in full for seven years, and only two of those are refundable, I'd have been with her. They are affiliated with Agoge and are both year-round."

Ron grinned. "This year's vacation looks promising!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Vacation? Nope. I'm meeting some far-flung family, going into a time bubble for schooling, healing and society education, again. And grief counseling. Can't forget that."

It was Seamus who asked the burning question. "Who's Quin?"

Harry smirked. "My sister." Harry took a few bites of his breakfast waiting for the barrage of questions to begin. Hermione lifted her right pinky offering to answer for him. Ronald, being next to her tilted his head to the right, asking to have some fun too. Harry nodded at them and stayed quiet.

"How much younger is she, Harry?" Asked Neville.

When Harry didn't appear to respond to Neville, Ron shrugged. "Harlequin is exactly one year younger than Harry. Kinda spooky, really."

Hermione nodded. "Aside from the age difference, and biology of course, they are nearly identical."

Neville nodded. "It's an odd quirk of magic, to keep families looking so similar. Sometimes it's only a hair or eye color. Sometimes it's more."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Wait, if you are keeping her out of Hogwarts, that means you have assumed head of house duties. And did it when you were twelve!"

Ron shrugged. "It's why Harry was forced to compete in the tournament. Technically, yes, he was head of house since about halfway through first year. The ministry sent him an invoice for taxes and fees owed. The ministry cannot, by its own by-laws, demand payment from a minor. He was able to argue to the invoice down to nothing because the ministry seized the cottage in Godric's Hollow for a war memorial, without compensation. The goblins like Harry, apparently."

Hermione wiped her mouth delicately. "Quin is quite happy at the Agoge and with the Apollymachi. I am looking forward to it as well. The different magics are amazing. The physical training is quite brutal." She looked at Harry. " Magical judgement and Abjurement? Was it enough?"

Most of the Hall including the teachers gasped at the question. They all thought it was quite savage, asking for Magical Judgment, but the Abjurement was uncivilized.

Harry nodded. "Just enough. No matter if I had brought charges against him via the Ministry or the ICW, not even one of the charges would be prosecuted. Either for statute of limitations since the crime was committed, or not enough evidence against him. Or because nobody will believe the evidence, after all, he is Albus Dumbledore. This way none of his secrets are hidden from anyone. It is just fair enough."

A raised voice sounded from the Slytherin students. "So, what's the truth of what we know about you, Potter?"

Harry looked over the other two tables and met Draco's eyes solidly. "Which story have you been fed with a silver spoon, Malfoy? What everyone knows in wizarding society has rarely been proven to be the truth, in my experience."

"All those Harry Potter adventure books?" An anonymous young voice called from Hufflepuff.

"All lies," Hermione called back. "The headmaster gave permission to use the name, and physical description, but pocketed all the money paid in recompense."

"You killed You-Know-Who!" A Ravenclaw shouted out.

Ron snorted. "A fifteen-month-old baby killed a wizard old enough to be his grandfather? Are you daft? Of course, Harry didn't kill him. Or defeat him!" Ron used his fork to point to the head table. "Ask any one of the professors who had real genius in school? Lily Evans or James Potter?"

"It was in the journals left in our trust vaults." Harry spoke firmly. "My father and his friends were showy, arrogant, bullies and toe-rags. My mother had two masteries, at least that were acknowledged by the British Ministry, before she graduated Hogwarts or my father even completed auror training. In point of fact, so did Master Snape." Harry took a swallow of his warm cider and then toasted the man. He looked unconcerned about the shouted conversation. Which he wasn't very concerned about at all. There really wasn't any way for his plans to be disrupted. He and his attorneys had covered all the angles.

Professor McGonagall stood up and approached the fifth year Gryfindors. "Mr. Potter, I am shocked by your actions. If I could deduct points and assign detentions, I would! Have you learned nothing this year?"

Harry stood up from the bench and table to face the Deputy Headmistress head on. "I've learned a great many things in the last five years, Professor. This year alone I learned that most of our professors would rather not listen to a student with a true problem. Whether this is for 'plausible deniability—the student never actually having the opportunity to describe the problem, so the teacher does not know for a fact what the problem is. That could be so that the staff member doesn't have to get off their ass and protect the student, or perhaps can keep their head down and keep their job. As you did to me when I attempted to inform you of what Umbridge's detentions consisted of. Or perhaps last year, with the tournament? When not only was I entered against my will, but then was the recipient of death threats, hexes, and cruel words from not only the other residents of the castle-students and staff- but also by the general public. I was not protected then, nor did any adult except for Hagrid, and the fake Moody, offer any real assistance. Shall we look at my third year? When no information was provided to me about who Sirius Black was to me, except from Mr. Weasley, or that he was suspected of escaping prison to kill me. Interesting isn't it, that what everyone knew turned out to be nothing but lies, insinuation and gossip? I learned everything that wizarding society believed, was acting on, from simple basics from Mr. Weasley, and from eavesdropping on your illuminating conversation with the Minister of Magic in the Three Broomsticks. My second year? Again, the staff did nothing to help me while I was being vilified for being a Parselmouth, or for being suspected of being the Heir of Slytherin. In non-wizarding society, Saint Patrick was revered for being able to rid Ireland of snakes. He was probably a parselmouth. Interesting that no one offered me a lineage test to exclude or include me in the suspect pool. We do happen to have a genius and talented Potions Master on staff. Just to simmer down the student body, I would have bet he'd have been thrilled to brew enough potions for the whole school. But I suppose that would have been too traumatizing to the Pure Blood students. Finding long lost cousins, half-siblings, heirs to thought to be lost bloodlines. Why, Hermione is the Heiress of the Dagworth-Granger line. It was Hermione that figured out it was a basilisk before she was petrified. I must wonder why nobody checked her other hand after they pried the mirror out of the first?" Harry smirked at the shocked look on his Head of House's face. "None of which means a damn thing, of course. After all I, as well as Ron and Hermione, came to you about the danger to the Philosopher's Stone in our first year, only for you to dismiss us out of hand. You asked not one clarifying question, did not calm us down, or double check on the stone yourself. So, what have I learned at Hogwarts? I learned to control only one part of my magic, that which is designed to make me depend on a wand. I learned that most adult British wixen are sheep: easily startled, easily lead and easily slaughtered. Our premier school is not even in the same league as other schools of magic that teach to the student's strengths. Which is why the Founders divided us into Houses; to help bridge the gap between standardized education and teaching to each individual's strengths. Don't worry, Professor. I won't be returning for my sixth or seventh years. I will attain my masteries outside of Britain." Harry gave her a half nod of the head and spun on his heels. With a snap of his fingers the sounds of 'The Wall' by Pink Floyd began to play through the Great Hall.

Hermione stood up, humming along with the song. She paused as she looked at her Head of House. "Don't fret, Professor McGonagal, you won't have to pretend to care about me anymore. I too am taking my last two years of magical education elsewhere." She sighed. "This summer is going to be hard, after all, I must catch up to my peers. At least I'll be with my friends."

Ronald pushed his unfinished plate away from him as he stood and slung an arm over Hermione's shoulders. "Well, I'll make it official, Professor, you won't be seeing me next year either. I've a scholarship awaiting me." He steered Hermione out of the Great Hall and towards the room of requirement.