A/N: Constructive criticism is appreciated. You won't hurt my feelings.
Chapter 1: Set-up
Harry was once again stuck at the Dursleys', not knowing why he had to endure this prison every year. He was locked up again with no information and no contact outside of his 'family's' sneers and goading. His godfather had just died due entirely to his own impulsive decision making. The only person who really felt like Harry's family. His biological relatives made it clear that they weren't his family, nor was that Privet Drive his home, through their cold attitudes and belittling nature. He didn't have the horror story childhood of being beaten, starved, and left for dead, but he could leave them without looking back. No regrets and no goodbye was necessary. Once he set foot in Hogwarts, it always felt like his true home, despite the negatives. The students' opinion of him changing at the drop of a knut, and nearly dying every year.
Something was different about this time though, Harry mused. The fight at the ministry cemented the harsh reality about the scale of events taking place. In his first year, Ron and Hermione helped him, but ultimately, he had to face Voldemort alone. Everything was fine in the end, outside of a short visit to Madam Pomfrey. In second Year, People got petrified, and Ginny nearly died, but He defeated the snake and Tom Riddle alone. Everything worked out in the end and he even set Dobby free. In third year, he was able to fend off the dementors, and prevent Lupin from doing any damage or turning anyone into a werewolf while not in control.
In fourth year, Cedric died. Harry wasn't knowledgeable enough or competent enough to save Cedric, or prevent the resurrection of Voldemort. There was deception and ministry corruption involved in that plot that Harry couldn't have possibly seen from his perspective as a regular student. He didn't have a choice in the matter. He was forced to compete or lose his magic. He didn't force Cedric to compete or share in the glory with him.
Harry sighed as that old ache came back, pushed to the back but never forgotten. The harsh reality is that he couldn't save everyone. Sometimes, in fact, almost every time, the situation was out of his control. But he had to be the one to charge forward, standing up for what he believed in, namely surviving, while simultaneously taking care of the problems the adults couldn't seem to handle on their own. Not wanting to dwell on old pain when his emotions were so fragile, Harry thought about the recent events at the Department of Mysteries.
No, The real Difference is that I took charge, I took control, But I made the bad call. I should have just kept my impulsive head to the ground, and maybe Sirius would still be alive and my friends wouldn't have nearly been killed in a pointless trap. Sure, Dumbledore kept vital information from him while Dolores Umbridge was eroding his mental state with the generous help from Snape. The visions from Voldemort up to that point proved to be trustworthy. Voldemort somehow figured out the connection and deceived him in the end.
Before, He saw the danger and ran to meet it. Up to this point, it worked for him and proved to be the right choice. Now though, It was painfully obvious that he was out manned, outgunned, and his ignorance about almost everything magical pushed them farther apart. The divide was not a ravine or a great chasm. More like the splitting of the red sea. The waves would come back and crush from both sides if he didn't maneuver this perfectly. Voldemort, his forces, and the Ministry on one side. Albus Dumbledore, The Order of the Phoenix, and the Ministry on the other.
That last thought gave Harry an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach as he had an epiphany. He didn't trust Dumbledore and his leadership. It seemed sacrilegious. Everyone he was in contact with seemed to have unwavering faith in his abilities to lead them through the dark.
The first magical person he met, Hagrid, worshiped the ground Dumbledore stood on. He had reason to as well. Dumbledore gave him a job when he was expelled for a crime he didn't commit. Considering he did have Aragog with him, which was the official "Slytherin's" monster, he really could not have pardoned him until Harry's second year. Briefly, He toyed with the idea of some second hand manipulation on Dumbledore's part in sending Hagrid versus any other teacher to retrieve Harry and explain the wizarding world to him, but he dismissed the thought. He wasn't going to entertain assumptions that might destroy his relationships with Hagrid or the Weaselys on speculation alone. Dumbledore was a schemer, but Harry seriously doubted He would go through the arduous lengths of personally setting up all Harry's interactions into the wizarding world for Dumbledore's own gain. Hagrid did carry Harry to the Dursleys and had a connection to his parents, evidenced by the scrapbook he gave Harry for Christmas. It was also much more likely that the Weaselys would be in the same place and the same time as Harry to Station Nine and Three Quarters as they both were going to the same place at the same time. Such blatant Manipulation didn't suit Dumbledore's style either.
Everyone else he met deferred to the judgment of Albus as he was a very powerful wizard who was a beacon of hope during the last two wars in the wizarding world. His position of Headmaster to the only wizarding school of Britain guaranteed that he would be seen as an authority figure to virtually all of magical Britain.
Harry mulled over that thought for a second. He was certain that Dumbledore believed in the justice and good of what he was doing. He probably did care greatly for magical Britain, even the death eaters. They were all his students at one point or another. That emotional attachment was his greatest asset and his worst weakness. He cared too much about everyone. His cautious nature and that attachment prevented him from making the changes the wizarding world needed. Corruption ran rampant, with the nobility having free reign to do whatever they pleased, with naught but a slap on the wrist when they murdered people. Sure they went to prison, but since Voldemort could just prison break Azkaban, even that was not much of a punishment. The light would lose a war of attrition, because they were the only ones taking losses. Despite all this time, despite all the power, despite all of the admiration and acclaim Dumbledore received, the wizarding world was still a cesspit.
Hedwig cocked her head and peered at him from her cage with those piercing eyes glimmering with a spark of intelligence greater than any regular owl could possibly possess. In Harry's mind, The wizarding world truly stank like a dumpster underneath the veneer. Through the years Harry had been on both sides of the spectrum of public opinion. He was loved and admired as a hero one moment, then a troublemaker and liar the second. The wizarding world was completely willingly to believe whatever propaganda the papers discharged out. Fudge was more concerned with taking bribes from Malfoy and lining his pockets with only the image of accomplishing anything than actually standing for anything.
Sirius got sent to prison without a trial, but Barty Crouch Jr., an actual Death Eater, was able to escape his stay in Azkaban solely because Barty Crouch Sr. was his father. His own trial was a sham and he was heir to house potter, and super famous. Harry could picture how impossible it was for anyone not part of the aristocracy to get justice. Lucius, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott were able to escape justice with a slap on the wrist with a token defense but rather large pockets. Yaxely was a trusted member of the Department of Mysteries. Macnair was their official executioner.
The fact that the Toad Dolores, who illegally sent dementors to attack Harry, terrorized him at school, was incompetent, racist, and lacking in any skills was able to hold such a high position in the ministry solely due to her pureblood status rankled Harry. What did Wizards and Witches even do once they graduated? Especially Muggleborns. It seemed everyone worked for the government, Gringotts, or the service industry. Virtually all the people Harry came across in the magical world were not muggleborns. Did they just leave? Could Harry accept such a fate for Hermione? Someone so Bright, so hard working and dedicated to learning magic, to be forced to leave the magic world because she would always be discriminated against in favor of less competent but more socially desirable applicants. Why didn't they talk about this at Hogwarts?
Harry's stomach growled. He ignored it because he didn't want to wake his relatives at this time of night. Outside, there were patched clouds, embalmed with a bright full moon hanging in the dark sky. The harrowing sight did not fill him with comfort in the slightest. He was certain Lupin was not having a good time right now, let alone all the other unfortunate souls afflicted with his condition.
That stray rumination brought another speculation to the forefront of his mind. Considering the mass oppression magical creatures experienced in the wizarding world, It did not take a strategic genius to deduce that the dark creatures, like werewolves and vampires, or even the dementors if they could be reasoned with would join anyone willing to overthrow the status quo. He was sure Voldemort would promise them a better life if they served his interests. Granted, it was the pureblood faction that Voldemort represented that maintained these oppressive laws and restrictions, but he wasn't sure if they would care about that, given the opportunity hanging in front of them like a delicious steak.
His bloodshot eyes stared at the ceiling. Did he want to save the wizarding world? The fact that he was debating this filled him with a certain level of dread. Did he really want to save a world filled with such elitism, depravity, and oppression? His heart rate spiked as he felt his mental debate coming to a crescendo. No. He couldn't. He couldn't just defeat Voldemort and allow everything to go back to normal. He couldn't allow muggleborns and everyone else in the wizarding world suffer for the games and enjoyment of the wealthy elites. He would not. . . no, could not go along with Dumbledore's plans any longer.
The truth became clear in his sleep-addled state. Voldemort was not the problem. He was merely a symptom of the rot infecting the magical world. The chess board needed to be flipped, the pieces scattered all over the floor, to be picked up and reassembled to a greater vision. Harry could not just kill Voldemort and call it a day like Dumbledore did with Grindelwald. He would bring the wizarding world to its knees, and create a new direction for Magical Britain. It needed a whole new system of governance. The work necessary to bring such change would be immense, nearly impossible, and Harry had no clue where he would even start in the path to achieve his vision.
The surety in his mind gave him some security. He would need to plot and plan. But that could wait until tomorrow. The weight of Sirius's death in his psyche receded as he found purpose. Sirius would approve of his radical decision. He was probably laughing at the thought of all the chaos Harry would cause. With those lighter thoughts, Harry allowed himself to drift off to sleep underneath the penetrating gaze of his owl companion. His sleep was deep and without nightmares to rip him awake for the first time in a long while.
The next two weeks of his summer 'vacation' passed by with blazing speed as Harry built a new routine. When he woke up, he would eat a small snack with some water and head out to exercise himself physically. He didn't have the resources for a gym membership alongside muggles so he stuck to the basics. A few Kilometers run around Surrey, stopping to do some squats, push-ups, and pull-ups at the local park. There was a swing set he could use as a makeshift pull up bar, so he figured it was a decent place to stop. Doing a basic workout regiment made him realize how physically stunted he was. He was always good at running and the basic squats weren't bad, but he could barely do ten push-ups with suspect form and couldn't complete a single pull-up when he started. I can outrun Dudley and middle aged emancipated death eaters, but If I am going to take the fight to Voldemort, and go toe to toe with Death eaters, Werewolves and Vampires potentially, I am going to need every advantage I can get. My magical knowledge is limited, but I have youth on my side. I'll have to leverage What I can. Even two weeks in and he was improving his speed and strength.
Occasionally, he would hear scraping, someone tripping, or heavy breathing proving that the order was hot on his tail every time he left the house. Mundungus Fletcher and Tonks were the two main ones watching him based on his observations. Fletcher was usually drunk in one of the bushes watching the front of the house in the mid-afternoon to night time. If he was going to abandon the Dursleys, he would have to do it on Fletcher's shift. Tonks paid too much attention. He wouldn't get very far before the order caught up to him.
As soon as he got home, he started on his chores to avoid angering the Dursleys as much as possible. Weeding the plants, cooking breakfast for his relatives, and keeping the house basically clean. After last year, Dudley avoided Harry. He had no desire to follow Harry and run into more Dementors. Vernon and Petunia were also content to ignore his existence as long as he helped around the house and didn't linger in the shared space. They didn't bother him when he made food for himself, so he was able to eat more, even if his diet was doubtful in quality for long term health. However, Harry was a survivor, and would take any positive available to him.
A quick shower Later, and he was ready to put his full attention to his plans for the future. He was always thinking about his purpose, but when he was clean, fed, and alone, it was very easy to slip into his meditative self introspective state. Before, He was always reactionary, always trying to survive the never ending onslaught directed to his front door. He always felt behind the curve. Now though, his mind was sharp and focused. He felt a layer of calm he had never achieved before in his life. He brutally dissected himself.
His physical prowess was lacking and his magical knowledge was subpar, on spells and general knowledge. He needed advanced teaching that he couldn't get at Hogwarts if he had any hope of closing the gap between him and the powerful players. Dumbledore wouldn't do it, as shown by his poor management on getting Snape to repeatedly assault his brain with lackluster instruction. There was just so much about magic he didn't know. On the other hand, His magical power was above average, he had some leadership skills, and he instinctively could fight well enough.
Despite how horrible the occlumency lessons were, Harry knew he needed to reinforce them to avoid his purpose being uncovered by Voldemort or Dumbledore too soon. Every night before bed he would process his memories and organize them. Dealing with the emotional turmoil inside a bit at a time helped reach a certain level of catharsis. His defenses were very mundane and he still relied on brute force of will to repel an attack, but that would come in time.
On one such night going through his memories of second year, sitting on his bed with crossed legs, a crescent moon shining through the window into the spartan room, Hedwig in his lap basking in his attention, Harry contemplated a moral quandary he wanted to put off for awhile longer. His hands were already bloody. He killed Quirrell, the basilisk, and the diary intentionally. When he saw his hands burning Quirrell's face, he continued his assault with new vigor. It was very likely that he would have to kill again. Was he okay with that? Hedwig nipped at his fingers, likely indicating that he stopped petting her as his thoughts consumed him. Renewing his scratching in all the places she liked, Harry decided that he was okay with it. He would kill Voldemort, as many death eaters as he could, and ultimately, anyone representing the decay that needed to be eradicated and reset to achieve his dream. Another reason he couldn't stay underneath Albus's guidance. The order was non lethal with the exception of Moody, and Harry knew he would be rebuked for his viewpoints.
Harry paused for a second. He was feeling a strange sensation. Inexplicably, his magic thrummed in certainty at his declaration. Wait. . . he could feel his magic? How long had that been happening? Using his occlumency, Harry perused over his memories. It seemed like he had for a very long time. Understandably so, his magic was so natural to him that he didn't even notice it. It coalesced into a maelstrom when he was in turmoil, while it slowly flowed around him at peace when he was tranquil. When he slept in covered him like a warm blanket. Maybe that's the real reason why his relatives always felt uneasy about him. They knew the truth, but perhaps they felt something radiating off him that they couldn't explain, and it frightened them.
Even more peculiar, Harry could feel his magic flowing into his muscles, repairing his legs, core, arms, and back. He supposed that made sense. Dumbledore was no spry young lad after all. Being born in 1881 would put him well over one hundred years old. Based on the fight at the ministry, Dumbledore was still a very competent fighter, and likely could go many more decades before ending up like most muggles do in their late seventies and early eighties.
His magic probably enhanced his growth, boosted his immune system, among other aids to the human body. He supposed wizards didn't talk about it because it was so normal and natural to them, that they couldn't conceive that not being the case.
Hedwig nipped at his fingers playfully again. "Sorry girl", Harry distractedly verbalized. He handed her an owl treat and resumed his ministrations once again. Hedwig cooed in contentment.
He was on the verge of a great discovery, his magic swirling around him in excitement. This was exactly the kind of lead he needed. The ministry could track his wand. They knew instantly when he had cast the patronus charm to save Dudley and himself. But maybe there was something related to proximity in addition. The ministry also picked up on Dobby's explicit magic before second year, as well as Harry's accidental magic when he blew up Marge like a balloon before third year. But this passive use of magic had not resulted in any letters for misuse of magic from the Ministry.
He was certain that Voldemort and Dumbledore, as knowledgeable and powerful as they were, knew about this branch of magic. However, one thing the wizarding world taught Harry, is that despite how magic accomplished the impossible to your average everyday muggle, something so ethereal and contradictory, to wizards it was very static. They had magic theories and laws, everyone had wands, and everyone seemed to use magic in the same ways. Without a shadow of a doubt, Dumbledore had used this technique to make his eyes twinkle. Snape's overly dramatic billowing cloak could be explained via the same phenomena. Harry chuckled internally at his own postulation.
Harry, however, had never cared to follow the path more traveled, nor did he much care for the rules of magic. He wasn't content to just let his magic passively do its own thing, or use it for minor effects. He would take this idea to its zenith. Perhaps Mages of old had used magic in this manner, and the adoption of wands slowly buried this knowledge to time. Harry had no way to know due to his own ignorance of Magical History, Thank you Professor Binns! Harry thought sarcastically.
Harry wasn't sure if Hermione would light up in excitement or if a vessel would explode due to his desire to buck the established rules, but given the situation, this was his best bet. As far as Harry knew, as long as he had the willpower and belief in his magic, anything was possible. Never before in his life had he felt more excited to discover the limits and possibilities of magic.
Harry steeled himself and looked into Hedwig's impassive stare as he ruffled her feathers. "Girl, it is time to leave this horrid place. I bet you're ready to stretch your wings again, aren't you". Hedwig looked distinctly pleased with this turn of events. It was finally time to put the first part of his plan into action: operation escape Privet Drive and the Order.