Author's Notes:

This story is a cleaned-up version of the adult fic of the same name that I'm posting on AO3. (See my profile description for more info.) The original is about 90 percent plot and 10 percent smut so with a bit of effort I should be able to cleanse the smut and leave the plot largely intact.

This fic is basically a re-writing of Half Blood Prince. It's intended to be canon-compliant up to the end of The Order of the Phoenix, but deviates at the start of HBP. It will be critical of Dumbledore, Ron and occasionally (just for a while) Hermione. I've kept some of the chapter titles the same as the book so you can keep track of where we're up to.

Pairings will include: Honks (Harry & Tonks) for sure... and maybe others... (I don't want to spoil anything, but there will be no love triangles or broken hearts because I hate that.)

I'll use a mixture of book-canon and movie-canon as the story requires.

At present I expect the story to be about 50 Chapters long...

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Chapter 1 – Will and Won't

Harry Potter had been sitting in a chair beside his bedroom window at Number 4 Privet Drive for the best part of two hours, staring out at the darkening street. The room was strewn with various possessions and a good smattering of rubbish. Owl feathers, apple cores and sweet wrappers littered the floor, a number of spell books lay higgledy-piggledy among the tangled robes on his bed, and a mess of newspapers sat in a puddle of light on his desk with headlines like "HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE?", "SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE" and "MINISTRY GUARANTEES STUDENTS' SAFETY".

An alarm clock, repaired by Harry several years ago, ticked loudly on the sill, showing one minute to nine. Beside it was a piece of parchment covered in thin, slanting writing. Harry had read this letter so often since its arrival three days ago that, although it had been delivered in a tightly furled scroll, it now lay quite flat. The letter stated that Dumbledore would collect Harry at 11pm tonight, and would be glad of his assistance with something.

At first, Harry had been sceptical that Dumbledore would come at all, but the second part of the letter made him think again. If Dumbledore wanted a favour, then he would definitely come. Those two thoughts had blossomed into a rather troubling revelation – the only time Harry could rely on Dumbledore was when the Headmaster wanted something.

The more Harry thought about it, the more he realised that Dumbledore's interactions with him were always transactional – if Harry wanted something from Dumbledore, he had to bargain for it. Even more disturbing, Harry reckoned he'd subconsciously realised that very early on, and had been unwittingly doing what Dumbledore wanted for the last five years in an effort to earn his trust and approval... and thus maybe learn his secrets.

The problem with that approach was that Dumbledore always dictated the terms – Harry would do something amazing like save the school from a Basilisk, and then he had to accept whatever paltry crumbs of reward Dumbledore deigned to cast his way.

If Harry continued on that path, he'd be Dumbledore's pawn forever, he realised, and he most definitely did not want that.

Dumbledore's obsessive need to keep everything to himself had most recently cost Sirius his life. Three days ago Harry had realised that Dumbledore told him the prophecy as payment for Harry losing his Godfather. It was just another transaction. Dumbledore had screwed up, so to salvage his grip on Harry's loyalty and compliance, he'd bought it... with secrets.

That thought sickened Harry to his very core. Sirius' life was worth more than Dumbledore's poxy secrets!

How many more people would be sacrificed on the altar of Dumbledore's paranoia before this was over? Remus, Tonks, Moody and Mr Weasley were all in the front lines. Would they survive this war? What about Harry's friends – Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Fred and George? How many of them would die? Losing Sirius was already too great a loss. Losing anyone else was inconceivable.

Harry had spent every waking moment of the last three days thinking about Dumbledore's role in his life. For the first time ever, he'd weighed up the pros and cons of Dumbledore's influence, and found that Dumbledore was actually a hugely negative influence over all.

Dumbledore had placed Harry with the Dursleys, he'd supported Snape's bullying, he'd failed to prevent multiple attempts on Harry's life, he'd offered no help in the Triwizard Tournament, he'd virtually imprisoned Sirius, he'd allowed Umbridge to torture Harry, he was outwitted by Voldemort at every turn, and he never told anyone why he did what he did. And on the other side of the ledger – the positive side – was what? Harry struggled to think of anything... except perhaps bit of Grandfather-like approval and the odd grain of incomplete or misleading information.

The problem, of course, was that Harry couldn't defeat Voldemort without Dumbledore's help.

Harry thought about that for good while before another thought occurred to him – would he even be able to defeat Voldemort with Dumbledore's help?

He realised that he didn't think he could.

After five whole years of Dumbledore's dubious 'help', Harry was no nearer to being able to defeat Voldemort than he was at the start. In fact, he was in a much worse position now. Voldemort had regained a body, freed his most vicious supporters from Azkaban, and was recruiting an army.

It was hardly a ringing endorsement of Dumbledore's leadership skills that he'd allowed the enemy to become a hundred times stronger. In fact it was catastrophically incompetent. Dumbledore might be a powerful wizard, but he was a dreadful leader.

But who else was there? If Dumbledore couldn't (or wouldn't) help Harry to defeat Voldemort, who could? The Ministry was the obvious choice, now that Fudge was gone, but according to the Daily Prophet, 'rumours of a rift between the new Minister and Albus Dumbledore had surfaced within hours of Scrimgeour taking office'.

Who else could help Harry to defeat Voldemort? Remus? Tonks? Moody? Mr and Mrs Weasley? Hagrid? McGonagall? Flitwick?

No – they were all in Dumbledore's pocket. They wouldn't lift a finger without Dumbledore's permission.

The only people Harry could conceivably trust were Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, Ginny and the twins. Sadly, none of them had any idea how to defeat Voldemort either.

After three long days of deliberation, the conclusion was inescapable – Harry would have to figure out how to defeat Voldemort himself. He'd have to play along with Dumbledore, pretending to do what he was told, but behind the scenes he'd have to make his own plans.

Judging by the last five years, Harry's chances of getting any material help from Dumbledore were essentially zero. The Ministry, on the other hand might help him, if he could talk to the new Minister in person, without Dumbledore there to screw it up. Fudge had been a cowardly career politician who never would have helped Harry, but with Scrimgeour in charge things might be different. The question was, how different? Harry's experiences with the Ministry had never been good, and he couldn't discount the possibility that they'd continue to be useless... but he had to try. They were his only hope. If the Ministry wouldn't help him he would truly be alone.

What his ultimate plans might entail Harry had no idea yet, but he did know one thing – it would have to be very different to what he'd been doing so far, because that wasn't working at all. He needed to embrace his Slytherin side and stop being so Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat had been right – he should have been sorted into Slytherin. Being in Gryffindor had crippled him for this fight. After all, what had he learnt in Gryffindor? To treat learning magic like 'work' that should be avoided, and to play games instead. With a sigh, Harry started packing up his stuff. Dumbledore would be here in two hours. Harry may as well get ready. He chose not to warn his relatives though. There was no point – they'd just go berserk.

Sure enough, Dumbledore's arrival caused quite a stir. Dumbledore invited himself in, cowed the Dursleys with his complete lack of fear and casual use of magic, and then spoke to Harry as if the Dursleys weren't even present. Unfortunately they were present, so Dumbledore revealing that Harry's mass-murdering Godfather was dead did Harry no favours at all. Disclosing that Harry was already rich and had inherited another fortune from Sirius, plus a house, was also less than ideal – Dumbledore either didn't understand the delicate balance Harry had to maintain with the Dursleys, was deliberately trying to make Harry's life difficult, or just didn't give a shit. Of course Dumbledore's final act – suggesting that Harry summon a house elf into the Dursleys' home – was beyond stupid. Was Dumbledore trying to make Harry's life a misery?

But what choice did Harry have? None at all! So he'd summoned the traitorous elf, much to the Dursleys' eternal horror.

It was quickly established that Kreacher did indeed belong to Harry, and at Dumbledore's suggestion he ordered the elf to go work at Hogwarts. Dumbledore informed the Dursleys that the protection on their house would cease when Harry became an adult at seventeen, but Harry would need to return one more time to maintain the protections until that time. He sent Harry's belongings on to the Burrow, and then they stepped out to (as he put it), 'pursue that flighty temptress, adventure'.

Harry followed, but was privately thinking that if he owned his own house there was no way he'd return to this hell-hole. Having a house-elf at his command might be very useful too, if the treacherous little shit could be forced to behave.

Dumbledore side-along Apparated them both to a deserted village square. He deflected when Harry asked about his black and withered hand. That was apparently yet another mystery which would not be explained any time soon.

Harry looked around, "'Er – where exactly are we?"

"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton."

"And what are we doing here?"

"Ah, yes, of course, I haven't told you," said Dumbledore. "Well, I have lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts."

Harry's eyes narrowed. This was the favour he'd mentioned in his letter. Dumbledore had never dragged Harry along on staff recruitment before, which meant that Harry's presence was important to the success of his visit. In fact, knowing Dumbledore, there was probably more than one scheme in motion.

Harry stopped in his tracks.

Dumbledore didn't notice for a few seconds, but then slowed to a stop, "Something wrong, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. Did he dare do this? Yes, he did. Things had to change. He might as well start now.

"I assume there's more to this than filling an empty teaching slot, and you need me to make it happen. So, Headmaster, what's in it for me?"

Dumbledore gave him a very quizzical look, "I'm not sure I follow."

"It's quite simple, Headmaster. You need a favour from me. What do I get in return for that favour?"

For the first time, Harry thought he saw anger flash across Dumbledore's face, "Doing what's right is its own reward, Harry. We should not seek payment for it."

Harry scoffed, "Since you haven't told me why we're doing this, I don't know that it is right do I? If you tell me enough that I can determine that it's right, I will make a judgement on that basis. But as things stand I can't make that judgment. For all I know, we could be doing something very wrong. We could be endangering this person's life, for example. So if you ask me to do this without explanation, then you're not asking me to do what's right, you're asking me to trust you. After the events of last year, I'm afraid I'm no longer inclined to do so. You kept secrets from me, Headmaster. If I'd known those secrets, I never would have gone to the Department of Mysteries, and Sirius would still be alive. Your secrets cost me, Headmaster. They cost me a very great deal. So I have decided that it's time for a change. You can keep your secrets if you like, but you don't get to do it for free any more. It's going to cost you, starting now. So I repeat, if you want this favour from me I will require a favour in return."

Dumbledore turned to fully face Harry, and stepped closer. His expression remained neutral, but Harry couldn't help noticing that the Headmaster was now looming over him in a rather menacing way.

"We don't have time for this, Harry. I need you to trust me. There is a great deal at stake – a very great deal."

Harry glared up at him defiantly, "Is that so? In that case my price has just gone up. Keep on pushing Headmaster and we'll see how high my price can go."

Dumbledore was growing angry now. If Harry was honest, he was quite scared. That thought gave him pause. Why was he so scared? Wasn't the Headmaster supposed to be one of the good guys? Harry had been less scared when he faced Voldemort. Why was he more scared of Dumbledore than Voldemort?

The answer chilled him to the bone. It was because Dumbledore was just as ruthless as Voldemort, but held sway over much more of Harry's life. Harry wasn't scared of what Dumbledore might do to him; he was scared of the collateral damage to others that might result from Dumbledore's anger.

Harry wondered idly how the Death Eaters coped with this – they were all out there fighting against Dumbledore, while their children were in Dumbledore's care. Did they know something Harry didn't? They must do, because in their shoes Harry would never let his child anywhere near a sworn enemy. That thought gave him courage. They must know Dumbledore better than Harry did, and saw no danger from him. Harry had no time to figure out why, but it gave him the confidence to stare Dumbledore down.

"I see," Dumbledore said finally. "Out of curiosity, Harry, what would your price be?"

Harry thought fast. He hadn't actually had anything in mind. This was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing, to see what Dumbledore's reaction might be. To test the Headmaster's resolve, Harry's price should be something Dumbledore would believe a teenager would actually want, but which he could easily provide. Something that would cost the Headmaster nothing...

Inspiration struck.

"I deserved to be Prefect last year," Harry replied bitterly, "but you gave the badge to Ron. That was more than just a slap in the face – it undermined my credibility with the students and the public. You claimed you did it because you thought I had enough responsibility to be going on with, but you should have asked me. I would have told you..."

A twinkle had appeared in Dumbledore's eyes as he interrupted, "You want to be a Prefect then?"

That wasn't what Harry had in mind – it would be selling himself short. In any case, the Headmaster seemed too eager to pay that price, so it wouldn't be a true test of how far Harry could push him. Something bigger was required.

"No Headmaster, that ship has sailed. You sullied that position when you gave it to Ron. I want to be Head Boy."

The twinkle vanished. Dumbledore was incredulous, "Head Boy? In your sixth year? On what grounds?"

Harry returned Dumbledore's incredulity, "Are you serious, Headmaster? Who deserves it more than me? Did anyone else save the school from Voldemort in his first year, or a Basilisk in his second year, or a hundred Dementors in his third year, or win the Triwizard Cup in his fourth year, or teach Defence and suffer torture in his fifth year?" Harry was almost yelling now. "Tell me, Headmaster, who has done more for the school than me? Name them! Come on! Let's see how badly you can offend me!"

Dumbledore put hand on Harry's shoulder to calm him, but it just made him angrier.

"Calm yourself Harry. I grant that you have done things that no other can match, but you're a sixth year. The Head Boy is always a seventh year. Always."

Harry pushed Dumbledore's hand off his shoulder, "Let's be frank, Headmaster. War is coming. I probably won't even make it to my seventh year. None of us may be here next year. This is my one and only chance to be Head Boy. I deserve it, and I want it. That is my price."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly, "I'm sorry Harry, but the Head Boy has already been chosen. I cannot accommodate you."

Fury blazed in Harry's chest. He had to grit his teeth to get any words out, "Then I regret that I cannot accommodate you this evening Headmaster. In fact I will advise the person we're about to meet that they must not come to Hogwarts, that their life will be in peril, that Voldemort has already gained access to the school on several occasions, and that there is a Death Eater already on the staff. I'll do whatever it takes to thwart your plans."

Dumbledore's anger had returned, "Are you blackmailing me, Harry?"

"No headmaster. You are denying me something I want, and I'm returning the favour. That's all. We both know full well that you have absolute and total authority at Hogwarts. You could make me Head Boy if you wanted to. You're choosing not to. Well, I'm choosing not to let you manipulate this person into a life-threatening situation. Our relationship has always been transactional Headmaster, don't try to deny it. You've cleverly manoeuvred me into being loyal and subservient, but being loyal to you has always come with a cost. A one-way cost! I've been loyal to you, and yet I'm the one who pays for that loyalty. Well not anymore!"

Harry was becoming increasingly agitated. He was pacing up and down now, gesticulating wildly. "In my opinion, there is a massive debt between us Headmaster, and it's you that owes me. Our relationship has brought me nothing but pain and suffering. In fact, you know what? The whole Magical World owes me! I've saved them from Voldemort three times! Well it's time for you and them to show some god-damn appreciation for my pain and sacrifice. I want to see some bloody gratitude, or you can all go to hell. In fact, no! Screw it! You can count me out. Go fight Voldemort yourselves. I don't care anymore. He can have you, I'm done."

Harry stormed off down the moonlit street, back the way they'd come.

Dumbledore was silent for a ten long seconds before he finally called out, "Very well Harry."

Harry stopped in his tracks fifty meters away.

"Help me this evening," Dumbledore said softly, "and you'll be made Head Boy."

Harry turned on his heel and walked back, his fury reigned in, "You have a deal Headmaster, but if you renege on it, you and I are done. Lead on."

They proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with houses. All the windows were dark. The odd chill that had lain over Privet Drive for two weeks persisted here, too. Neither one of them spoke for a while.

As Harry knew he would, Dumbledore eventually tried to guilt-trip him, "I'm very disappointed in you Harry."

Harry snorted, "Not half as disappointed as I am in you Headmaster. Sirius died because you kept secrets from me. If someone you love dies tonight because if my actions, I will admit that you have the right to be equally disappointed in me. Until then, your disappointment is of little concern to me."

Dumbledore's jaw clenched, but he chose not to reply.

The meeting with Horace Slughorn was a success. Dumbledore had chosen not to brief Harry on what he expected him to do, so Harry let Dumbledore do most of the talking. When Dumbledore excused himself to use the bathroom, Harry played his part and sold the idea of it being safer to be near Dumbledore than anywhere else. Generally-speaking, Harry didn't believe that to be true, but in Slughorn's case it probably was, so he didn't feel too bad about it. Dumbledore returned and soon had Slughorn signed up, though Slughorn did demand better rooms than last time he'd been a professor.

Harry and Dumbledore left the house and walked back the way they came. Dumbledore was silent until they reached the war memorial in the centre of the village.

He spoke without looking at Harry, "It is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year, Harry. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your education."

Harry wondered if this was because of his earlier outburst, "What will you be teaching me, Headmaster?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that."

"I see. In that case I will reserve judgement on whether there will be a price."

Dumbledore seemed genuinely shocked, "You would charge me to give you private lessons?"

"Well it depends," Harry replied evenly. "In my experience everything you do serves you more than it serves me. If this is one such occasion then yes, I will charge for my time."

Dumbledore growled in frustration, but when he spoke again his voice was controlled, "I wish you to keep your Invisibility Cloak with you at all times from this moment onwards. Even within Hogwarts itself. Just in case, you understand me?" Harry nodded. "And lastly, while you stay there, the Burrow has been given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide. These measures have caused a certain amount of inconvenience to Arthur and Molly – all their post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry, before being sent on. They do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your safety. However, it would be poor repayment if you risked your neck while staying with them. Now if you will excuse me, I have some other matters to attend to. Take my arm, Harry."

As soon as Harry's hand touched Dumbledore's arm they disapparated. Braced this time, Harry was ready, but he still found it unpleasant. When the pressure dissipated he found himself standing alone, ankle deep in a bog. The Burrow was visible a few hundred meters away. Wondering if the Headmaster had done that on purpose, he trudged towards the track that lead to the house.

In the past, the Headmaster's abrupt departure would have left Harry feeling dreadfully guilty. Today he felt elated. He'd done it! He'd changed the rules. He was sure the Headmaster would push back, but this was potentially his first real concession – assuming his Head Boy badge arrived sometime soon, that is. Harry didn't actually care about the Head Boy badge, but if it didn't appear... well then he'd know that the Headmaster couldn't be trusted at all.

Harry guessed it was approaching one o'clock in the morning, but up ahead he saw the kitchen light was still on inside the Burrow. Harry could see Mrs Weasley talking to a woman with brown hair, but she was facing away from him so he couldn't make out who it was.

With a determined sigh, Harry turned away from the warm embrace of the Burrow and jogged down the lane in the opposite direction.