Chapter 5: Talking with Dumbledore

Thank you for all the reviews.

As I am wont to do, I added a bit to the last chapter. It doesn't really add to the story, but I added it anyway.

As usual, if you see a mistake, let me know and I will endeavor to fix it.

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When Harry got back to the castle from his gun deal. He was confronted by Dumbledore. He had been hoping to avoid this quarrel for some time. He had been lucky enough to evade it until now. But he knew it was coming so he just sighed when the old man said, "Mr. Potter, follow me."

"Damn it," he mumbled under his breath as he followed the brightly clothed man. Dumbledore was wearing particularly bright shades of orange and green robes. It was hard to take the man seriously at times when he wore such flashy robes.

The two of them walked to the castle until they got to the headmaster's office. Harry followed the old man up the winding stair and sat in the chair in front of the ostentatious desk. He looked around the room and saw all the gadgets that were just buzzing away. He didn't know what any of them did, but they did make quite a bit of noise. He saw them there the last time he was there to go over his payment. But now, looking at them, he had to wonder just what they were all for.

"What do you want, old man?" he asked, slumping down in his chair in that boneless way of a teenager.

"It has come to my attention that you have thrown in your lot with Mr. Riddle. I thought we came to the understanding that you were going to… vanquish him," Dumbledore said, peering over his half-moon spectacles at the man in a grandfatherly way, as if he was greatly disappointed in the boy's actions.

"I thought it would be more pragmatic to join teams with him, then take on the older one," Harry said, waving his hand in the air in a casual manner.

"I don't feel that it would be within your remit to do this," the old man said, tapping his finger on the desk in a reprimanding way.

"What do you mean within my remit? I'm not a government official," the teenager exclaimed, not sure where the old man was going with his turn of phrase.

"You are being paid as a bounty hunter," was the sharp come back.

"I'm not a bloody bounty hunter. I'm a kid," Harry said, sitting up straighter. Though the thought of being a badass bounty hunter was pretty cool.

"You are being paid to vanquish a Dark Lord. That makes you a bounty hunter," the headmaster said reasonably.

"No, I said I'd take care of your Dark Lord problem. I didn't say anything about vanquishing anyone. And I am taking care of your Dark Lord problem. Your Dark Lord is no longer a Dark Lord in the evil sense of the word. He has changed his platform and is now fighting for equal rights for everybody and is no longer killing anyone. Therefore, is no longer a problem. I did this. I earned my pay," Harry stated all in one breath, as if he said it fast enough, he would get his point across quicker.

Dumbledore sat and thought about that for a while. He turned it over in his head. But he didn't trust Riddle. He didn't trust Riddle at all. He knew the man could turn around and go back to his old ways. However, he was all about giving second chances, so decided to let this one slide and considered what to do about the second Dark Lord that was coming.

"What will you be doing about the older Voldemort?" he asked young Harry, tilting his head to the side and running his hand down his beard.

"Oh, we're gonna off him," said Harry, nodding his head empathetically.

"You are going to kill him?" he asked, quite shocked over that fact.

"Oh yeah, we're definitely gonna kill him," said Harry, still nodding his head vigorously.

"And you joined up with the younger version of Voldemort to do this?" questioned the old man as if he was trying to wrap his head around the fact that the younger version of Voldemort was on board with this idea.

"Yeah, he doesn't want the older one around anymore than you do," said Harry, waving his hand in the air as if it were a foregone conclusion.

"Then you used this to reform the younger one?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yeah, that's how it worked," said Harry, nodding his head once more as if showing that he was agreeing with everything Dumbledore was saying.

"Very well done, my boy," said Dumbledore, smiling at the boy as if that had been his plan the entire time.

"What can I say? I do good work," said Harry, grinning back like a fool. He knew what was going on and he didn't care if the old man was going to try and take credit for it. He knew Tom wouldn't let Albus do that.

"You do realize, of course, that if the younger Voldemort does turn back to his old ways, you will be obligated to take care of him," Dumbledore said, once more peering over his spectacles at the boy in front of him.

"We'll see," said Harry. He was planning to do everything in his power not to worry about Tom Riddle Junior. If he could do what he can, not to kill the younger man he was going to do that. Offing the Dark Lord Senior was one thing, but killing Junior was quite another. He just had a feeling that if he killed Junior, they'd toss him in Azkaban. But if he killed Senior, they'd leave him alone. It was just a feeling.

"Now, Harry, my boy, you're already commissioned to vanquish the Dark Lords. I don't see why you would have to change your commission now," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. If he had his way, this boy was going to take care of both his Dark Lord problems.

"Like I said, we'll see. I've already done my job with this younger one. I don't see why I would have to go and do it a second time," Harry said casually, dismissing the problem with a wave of his hand.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, rejecting the idea for now and leaving it open for later discussion. He would have to ponder on it and come up with plans.

"Anyway, was there anything else you wanted to speak to me about? I've got things I've got to do," Harry said, thinking about the guns in his bag that he needed to take care of and practice using. Because he had never fired again in his life, and he didn't want to just fire one off and miss the first time he needed to use one. That would be bad.

"It is my understanding that you have a group of people that you are now… leading," said Dumbledore. "I would like to join up with this group with my own group, The Order of the Phoenix." He wanted this, then he could keep a sharper eye on the boy. That and keep up with his plans and know what the boy is doing.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," said Harry.

"Why ever not, young man?" The old man said, completely affronted by the idea that the boy would reject his plan so out of hand.

"Well," said Harry. "You've got a group of old people; I've got a group of young people. I'm not sure your old people can keep up with my young people." He said all this with a shit-eating grin on his face, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"I assure you that we are very fit and limber," said Dumbledore with a chastising look on his face, as if he knew what the boy was thinking. Though, he did have to admit quite a few of the people in the Order of the Phoenix were old and infirmed. However, they could be useful in information gathering, and they did have valuable appointments in the ministry.

"I'm not sure we're working on the same goal," said Harry. He actually didn't know what the old man's goals were. As far as he knew, the only thing the old man was about was to get rid of the Dark Lord.

"We are all looking to vanquish the Dark Lord," said Albus, running a hand down his beard, trying to look important.

"Fine. We're meeting in three days," conceded Harry. He didn't see where it would hurt for the two groups to come together, but he didn't see where Dumbledore and Tom Riddle would work together. So, he'd have to keep the three groups apart. He's going to have to talk to Tom about that.

"We have an establishment that was left to us, by one of our deceased members. We can all meet there. It is large enough. He was your godfather," the old man said, searching Harry's face to see if there was any emotion there. Sirius Black had been Harry's godfather. But Harry didn't know him or of him even. The house hadn't been left to them per se. It hadn't really been left to anybody, really. It kind of fell on the shady side of legal.

"Wait a minute. My godfather left you a house? Shouldn't it have been left to me?" Harry demanded, wanting his comeuppance. If the house should have been left to him, then he wanted it. He didn't have any place to stay. According to the goblins of Gringotts, everything the Potters had owned had been destroyed in the war. He was going to fight for this house if he had to. He's going to have to see about getting a lawyer to get this house back.

"Well, he didn't technically leave it to us," said Dumbledore, looking a bit contrite. "We more or less confiscated it." His eyes went around the room as if he couldn't land on anything without looking guilty.

"And how did you go about doing that?" the young teen asked. He was going to get as much information as he could. It was going to go into his legal suit.

"It was left to a werewolf in a roundabout fashion, and we had to do some pretty tricky, slightly illegal maneuvering to get it left to us," was the more or less answer. The eyes were still roaming around the room and not landing on Harry.

"Why did you have to do that?" Harry asked, confused.

"Werewolves are not allowed to inherit," Dumbledore said, this time putting his eyes on Harry's face as if to gauge his emotion on the fact the man was a werewolf.

"Oh," said Harry. He could care less about werewolves. They didn't bother him one way or the other. He was a live and let live kind of guy.

"Speaking of werewolves, Remus Lupin would like to meet you," Dumbledore said, his eyes still fastened on Harry's face.

"And why would Remus Lupin like to meet me?" the teen asked, tilting his head to the side as if wondering why this man wanted to meet him. He had never heard of the bloke before in his life.

"He was a friend of your father's," was the casual answer.

"And?"

"Would you not like to meet a friend of your father's?" Dumbledore inquired.

"I didn't know my father," Harry pointed out, as if that were the obvious answer.

"Nevertheless, the young man would like to meet you and share some stories about your father with you," the old man said, hoping the boy would take Remus up on his offer.

"Whatever. When I find some time. Perhaps I'll meet him after the meeting," Harry said indifferently. He'd meet the guy, but if he was a plant of Dumbledore's, he was going to dismiss him right away. Or maybe he'd keep him around and feed him false information. That might be fun.

"Very well, I will pass the message along," the old man said. Good, the boy was going to take a chance with Remus Lupin. This way he could get a spy in on Harry's camp.

"So are we done now?" Harry asked one more time. He was actually getting quite tired of being here and wanted to get ahold of his guns. He had been itching to pull the trigger for quite some time now. He was going to have to find a place to do that, he still needed to find those house elves. It's been a week now. And he still hadn't found them. He still hadn't gotten the Horcrux out of his scar either. Hmm. There were things he needed to do.

"There are a few other things I would like to go over with you. Such as why you are not attending classes," the headmaster said, as if chastising an unruly student.

"I haven't seen any classes yet that I like," Harry said, looking around the room for some sort of inspiration. All he saw were trinkets.

"I thought you were going to endeavor in learning these courses," Dumbledore said, confused. He thought the boy was going to be going to all the classes, that he would be enamored by the magic that he would be learning.

"No, I told you I was going to learn what your school had to teach me, and I am doing that by taking advantage of your library," Harry pointed out. Excited by what he was learning in the library. He had found so many fascinating things that he could do. And he could do them in so many different ways then the magicals can. Because it was all about intent.

"Would it not be more pertinent to learn from the teachers?" the old man asked. To his way of thinking, learning from the teachers was the only way to learn.

"I have never been one for structured learning," Harry said. Which was the complete and honest truth.

"Harry, my boy, we have to come to an understanding. This is a school, and I cannot have you running amok. You must go to classes," the headmaster said, which was also the truth because he could not have somebody just running around the school without justifying it to the Board.

"Fine, I'll go to Transfiguration, Charms and DADA," Harry said in way of compromise. He could see himself going to these classes and possibly even learning something from them. That and, he'd be next to Hermione.

"I would like for you to go to Potions as well," Albus said, hoping the boy would take him up on that. Some adversity in his life would be good.

"I'm not going anywhere near that greasy git. If I go near him, I'll knife him," the dark-haired teen said menacingly. He meant it too. He was tired of that greasy-haired git. All that man had ever done was said disparaging things about him, his family, his friends, everything. He had no nice things to say about anyone or anything.

"How can you speak so casually of killing someone," the headmaster asked, aghast that somebody could speak so informally about it.

"Because he's a mean and angry bastard, that seems to hate my guts for no reason whatsoever. And he makes one more rude comment about me or my family and I'm going to gut him," Harry said, looking as if he was about to pull out a knife and cut the man where he stood if he had been standing right in front of him.

"Please do not speak of killing my teachers," The headmaster said with a disappointed grandfather look on his face. There was sadness in his eyes and his tone.

"Then please do not speak of me going to Potions," Harry said with a disappointed look in his eyes too.

"Very well. I would like it if you would take Divinations," Albus said with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Why would I want to take Divinations? I don't have the gift of sight," Harry asked, completely flabbergasted by the request.

"But there are things that you could learn from Divination," the old man said, leaning forward a bit as if to partake of important bit of information.

"Nope, not going to happen," Harry said dismissively, waving his hands.

"Harry, my boy. There are things that you can learn from Professor Trelawny," The headmaster said. He seemed very earnest that the boy take this class.

"That old drunk? I doubt it very seriously," the teenager said with a scoff. He had met the woman once or twice and she had been drunk on sherry each time he had met her. Sure, she spouted off prophecies and predictions, but none of them were true. And each and every time it was about his death or somebody else's death.

"She has the gift of sight," the old man insisted.

"She has the gift of booze," Harry sneered.

"I have seen her give a prophecy," the headmaster persisted.

"Of that, I have no doubt. Anybody who drinks enough could probably give a prophecy. I'm still not going to take her class. I don't have the gift of sight," Harry said once more, going over the reason why he was not going to take up Divinations.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, rubbing his forehead in frustration. None of this conversation was going the way he thought it would.

"So Transfiguration, Charms, and DADA. Anything else you want from me?" Harry asked for the last time. He was really getting tired of this conversation and wanted out of this pretentious office. Those twirling gadgets were getting on his nerves.

"No, you may go," Albus Dumbledore said, waving his hands for the young man to leave.

"Later, old man," Harry said as he fled out the door. He had guns to play with.

"Whatever shall I do with that boy?" Dumbledore mumbled to the air. He started shuffling through his drawers, trying to find a potion to stave off the headache he was getting from the conversation he had just had with the brat of a boy. He pulled out a purple potion and downed it.

"I think you should throw him out of the castle on his ear," said Snape as he melted from the shadows. He had been standing there the entire time and listened to the whole conversation. And he had been hoping that the boy had said something to hang himself, though he hadn't.

"Ah, Severus. You do seem to have a hatred for the boy. What has he ever done to you?" the old man asked. He didn't understand the animosity the man had for the boy. Severus had hated Harry Potter since before he had ever set foot in the castle. He knew it had something to do with James Potter saving his life, but it just seemed so petty. And he hated to think that Severus was so petty.

"He's a spoiled little brat. And did you not hear him so casually speak of killing me? Mark my words, old man, he's going to be the death of you. Or me or one of the students," The Potions Master said, pointing his finger at the door and then at Albus.

"I think he can control himself," said Dumbledore, although there was an underlying tone of doubt in his voice.

"You think that of everybody," groused the bitter man.

"I thought that of you," the headmaster said with a smile. He always did think the best of everybody.

Snape just sniffed.

"Alas, I fear I cannot control him. He does seem to have an independent streak that you do not," Albus said, looking at the door with a great deal of trepidation. He didn't like that, that he could not control the would-be hero.

Snape wasn't sure how he felt about that comment. "Headmaster," he said. "I'm not sure anybody can control the brat."

"That is my deepest fear," the old man said, still looking at the door with the twinkle in his eye noticeably absent. There was a great deal of calculation going on in those eyes. As if plan after plan were being formulated and discarded.

"Perhaps we should put him down before it is too late," Snape suggested tentatively. He knew the headmaster didn't like the thought of killing anybody, but Harry Potter might just need to be exterminated.

"I think I will endeavor to make plans to… contain him," the old man said in the way of compromise. He did so hate the thought of killing anyone… but holding them? That might be an alternate solution.

"That might be pertinent," the Potion Master said, though he doubted anything could suppress the boy.

"Yes, I think plans must be made to contain him before he gets out of control," the headmaster said, thinking over plans that he could use to confine the boy.

And with that, the two men plotted. Unfortunately for them, there was a little listening charm on the desk of Dumbledore.