A/N 1: So...this is not a sequel to Ten Years Later: Legion. I know that the end of that story indicated that there would be a follow-up. Unfortunately, the story simply isn't coming for me. I do hope to write it someday but for the time being, this is what I'm working on. I hope you enjoy it.

A/N 2: I want to be very clear: I love The Half-Blood Prince. It's either my first or second favorite HP book. However, I got to thinking about Horcruxes and realized that I don't particularly care for the MacGuffin pretty much at all. That led to the question of what the rest of the series would look like if there were no Horcruxes. Rather than rewriting the entire series, I elected to start with Book 6 since that's where Horcruxes become an active part of the storyline.

From there, I simply decided to take the story in my own direction. There will be parts of this that look like HBP. There will be parts of Deathly Hallows that I bring back. But for the most part, I intend for this to be an entirely different version of Book 6 with no connections to the original.

Enjoy!

Dark clouds hung low over Number Four Privet Drive. In the bedroom at the top of the stairs, Harry Potter, known to the wizarding world as The Boy Who Lived, sat in a folding chair and stared out the window. He watched as the rain pounded against the glass accompanied by flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder.

To the rest of the world, Harry Potter would seem like a normal fifteen-year-old boy. He was skinny but the contours on his arms and legs suggested that he was an athlete of some kind. He was good looking but not in a way that most people would notice at first glance likely due to the large glasses that adorned his face, scratched and broken as they were. The mop on top of his head gave him the look of someone who had just gotten out of bed, no matter the time of day.

But in the world of magic, Harry James Potter was Great Britain's greatest celebrity. Only a few months after his first birthday, the dark wizard Voldemort murdered Harry's parents, James and Lily, before turning on Harry. For years, no one knew exactly why Voldemort chose the Potters or why he attempted to kill Harry. All they knew was that when Voldemort raised his wand and fired the Killing Curse at young Harry, the spell rebounded, destroying Voldemort and leaving Harry with two dead parents and a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

Years later, it was explained to Harry that the curse had rebounded because of his mother's sacrifice. In her attempt to prevent his death, she had sealed a bond between them, one that protected Harry from the curse that ultimately destroyed Voldemort's body. Then, just three weeks earlier, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry and the public-appointed beacon of all good things in the world, had told Harry of a prophecy delivered in the months prior to his birth that had painted the target on Harry's back.

Neither can live while the other survive…

For fifteen years, Harry had lived as an orphan. For eleven of those years, he had been told that his parents had died in a car crash. That lie had been perpetrated by Harry's aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, a pair of the most intolerant people that had ever had the misfortune of gracing the Earth. But when Harry had found out that they had died not in a car accident but at the hand of an evil wizard, that had only led him to more questions.

One person had the answers to those questions: the aforementioned Albus Dumbledore. And yet, for nearly five years, Dumbledore had refused to give Harry the satisfaction of knowing why his parents had been killed or why Voldemort had targeted them in the first place. When he had finally told Harry, he had done so only because Harry had learned about the prophecy but not its contents. Harry could only wonder what would have happened if Harry had never been drawn to the Hall of Prophecy in the first place.

Of course, if Harry had known about the prophecy, if he had known where they were kept, maybe Harry would never have been tricked into retrieving the prophecy by Voldemort. Maybe Harry would have seen the image of his godfather being tortured and he would have ignored it, knowing that it was a ruse created by Voldemort to lure him out.

Instead, he went to the Ministry of Magic and in the resulting battle between Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix and Voldemort's Death Eaters, Sirius had been struck by a curse from the vile Bellatrix Lestrange. The curse had thrown him back into a veil and his body had been taken beyond.

Two years earlier, Harry had learned that Sirius had been an innocent man and his godfather.

Now, before he could be fully redeemed in the eyes of the public, he was gone.

In the first few days after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Harry had blamed himself. Hermione had told him not to go. She had said that the image was likely a trap and she had been right.

But as the weeks had passed and things began to settle, Harry's blame shifted to the shoulders of his headmaster. Albus Dumbledore kept secrets. Even those that considered themselves close to Dumbledore often admitted that they had no idea what he was thinking or why he did what he did. In return for revealing no information about his plans, Dumbledore expected the members of the Order to answer only to him, blind loyalty repaid with blindness.

Harry supposed that his anger at Dumbledore would have eventually disappeared if Dumbledore had seemed interested in him after Sirius's death. However, that didn't seem to be the case. In the week after the Battle, the wizarding world had come down hard on former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who had spent the better part of a year ignoring all the signs that Voldemort had returned. As a response, the Wizengamot had launched a full inquiry into Fudge's dealings.

Less than two days later, Fudge had resigned. It then took the Ministry just under a week to find his replacement, former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones. Whereas Fudge had resented Dumbledore and his Order, Bones had immediately come out and stated that she supported Dumbledore.

Knowing that the Order would likely expand, Harry had sent a letter to Dumbledore, asking him what part Harry was going to play in the upcoming Order activities. That had been a little over two weeks earlier and that letter, along with the two others he had sent in the meantime, had all gone unanswered. Harry knew that Dumbledore was likely a busy man now that his actions had the support of the sitting Minister of Magic. But if the prophecy was true, and Harry was the one that needed to end Voldemort, Harry thought that Dumbledore should pay him a bit of attention, even if he just took the time to return a letter.

"POTTER!"

Harry was shaken from his reverie by the sound of his uncle screaming his name from the floor below. Harry ignored him. He knew that his uncle would call again a second time before getting up. Sure enough, seconds later, he heard his name reverberate through the floors again.

"POTTER!"

This time, Harry got up. When he did, he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror over his dresser. While almost everything appeared normal, there was a large cut over his right eye and a massive black eye on his left. Of course, the mirror couldn't show the myriad of bruises that Harry had all over his midsection.

In the weeks since Harry's return to Privet Drive, a war had been waged. Any slight from Vernon or Dudley about his family or his life had led to an assault from Harry. In response, Vernon and Dudley quickly double-teamed Harry and beat him until he could hardly get out of the room. Every time this happened, Harry had known what the result was going to be ahead of time and yet he did it anyway. There was something about fighting, even if he knew that there was no chance of winning, that made him feel alive when Harry would rather be dead. It was one of the few things that kept him going.

Harry drudged down the stairs to see all of the Dursleys in their usual places. Vernon was in his armchair, his feet propped up, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Dudley was laying on the couch, his shoes resting on the coffee table, something only Dudley could have gotten away with. They were both watching a football match on the television, something they had been screaming at for the better part of an hour. Meanwhile, Petunia was in her chair in the kitchen. Ostensibly, she was reading a book but Harry could see that the book was propped up in such a way that she could peek into the neighbor's backyard where Harry noticed that the man who lived next door was swimming in his backyard with a woman who was clearly not his wife.

"Yes, Uncle?" Harry said evenly.

"Whiskey," barked Vernon as he held his glass up to Harry. The bottle of whiskey was on the table next to where Vernon sat. In fact, Harry would have to go around Vernon's chair, where he would inevitably get yelled at for crossing between Vernon and the television, in order to get the bottle.

"Why don't you fill it up yourself?" Harry snapped. Immediately, Vernon turned to look at Harry, his face turning red.

"Because, boy, that's what I have you for," growled Vernon. Then, he shoved the glass into Harry's face. "Now, fill it up."

This was how life had been for the last few weeks. As far as Harry knew, there were no plans for him to go spend time at The Burrow this summer. All those plans went through Dumbledore.

Rather than continue to argue with Vernon, Harry did as he was asked. Sure enough, when he stepped in front of Vernon to get the bottle, Vernon barked at him to get out of his way. But in the end, the glass was filled and Harry was free to return to his window vigil.

A few hours later, the rain stopped and Harry raced to the front door to get out of the house. In the last few days, if Harry wasn't in his bedroom, he was out walking the streets of Little Whinging. Of course, most of the residents of the town knew him by the reputation that had been given to him by his aunt and uncle, which meant that more often than not, he was ignored or actively avoided.

This wasn't necessarily a problem until someone had called the police about an "escaped mental patient." Thankfully, the officers that had arrived had been kind enough to see that Harry was relatively well-adjusted and let him go on his way.

Each day that Harry went out, he walked further, spending more and more time out of the house. Considering Harry's longtime "cold war" with Vernon had finally gotten physical, Harry couldn't say that this was a complete surprise. While Harry was usually the one instigating the violence against Dudley or Vernon, that didn't necessarily mean that he enjoyed getting beaten into a pulp every day.

And so, Harry walked. He walked laps around Little Whinging. He walked up and down the streets and through the alleyways and into the parks and back again. There wasn't a street in the small suburb that Harry hadn't covered and often, it would take him from morning to night to complete his route. He had walked so much that his trainers were quite literally beginning to fall apart. Rather than beg for a replacement pair, Harry had simply found some duct tape and wrapped it around the shoe so that it would hold long enough for Harry to get access to his gold.

One day in mid-July, Harry decided that he was tired of walking Little Whinging. And so, he crossed into the neighboring community. However, almost immediately, Harry felt the presence of someone walking behind him, someone that hadn't been there before. While Harry knew that using his wand would be a problem, he had no intention of allowing himself to be attacked.

With a quick turn on his heel, Harry drew his wand and turned to find his wand aimed directly at the nose of Nymphadora Tonks, an Auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Tonks?" Harry said in confusion.

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks replied. "Probably should put your wand away. Don't want the Muggles to see that sort of thing."

Considering it was nearing sunset, it would have been difficult for anyone to see exactly what was happening on the sidewalk. Still, Harry knew that Tonks' point was a valid one and restored his wand to his pocket.

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing here? I'm watching you."

"Watching me? Why?"

"Dumbledore was worried that you might do something stupid after…"

"After Sirius's death," said Harry, finishing her sentence. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Me personally or everyone?"

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Everyone?"

"I have to eat and sleep sometime!" Tonks protested. "You think I can spend every minute of the day keeping my eye on you?"

"Who else is a part of this?"

"Kingsley, Dung, a couple random Aurors that you don't know."

"And they're here to do what? Keep me from leaving?"

"Mostly to protect you," Tonks replied. "But, the Minister of Magic also gave us instructions that you weren't to leave Little Whinging."

Tonks said all that and Harry only heard one thing.

"The Minister of Magic?"

"Yeah. She and Dumbledore are…working together, you know? She wants to make sure you are safe."

Harry saw red. For weeks, he had been left to his own devices at Privet Drive. Again. Last year, Dumbledore had told Harry that he had isolated Harry at Privet Drive out of fear that Voldemort would use his connection with Harry to get to Dumbledore and The Order. But after the Battle at the Ministry, Voldemort hadn't attempted to use that connection. According to Dumbledore, he wouldn't now that he knew just how much pain it would cause him.

There was no excuse for leaving Harry isolated and silent to the world around him. While Harry had received letters from Ron and Hermione, there had been no "official" communication for weeks.

But it seemed like Dumbledore was certainly getting information on Harry. He was having him watched day in and day out, followed. Now that he thought about it, Harry should have figured this out earlier. More than once, Harry had noticed something shimmering in the sunlight, something that appeared to be there and wasn't. Now he knew that it was likely Tonks or one of the others hidden under a Disillusionment Charm, making them largely invisible to the rest of the world.

Immediately, Harry turned back towards Little Whinging and Privet Drive. He stormed past Tonks, who immediately took off at a short jog to catch up with Harry.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to Privet Drive," Harry said curtly.

"I meant after that."

"Who said I was going anywhere?"

"I did. You have that look on your face that says that you are about to do something you really shouldn't do."

Harry stopped in his tracks.

"Is that for you to decide?" Harry snapped. "Or does Dumbledore or Bones decide that?"

"Harry, they're only trying to protect you," said Tonks warmly. "You are-"

"I know what I am to them."

Harry marched on, a righteous fury building inside of him. As he walked, he noticed that Tonks was doing what she could to keep up with him. Harry ignored her as he powered his way back to Privet Drive. Thirty minutes later, still fuming, Harry burst through the front door, Tonks hot on his heels. Harry sprinted up the stairs and began throwing things into his trunk.

"Harry, listen, I get that you are mad right now but you don't want to do this," Tonks said as Harry raced back and forth, collecting as many different items as he possibly could and chucking them into his trunk with varying amounts of success.

"You think I don't want to leave here? Because I absolutely do."

"I know you want to leave but it's dangerous out there."

"And you just let me spend the last month wandering around out there alone!" Harry roared. "When the Minister of Magic gave you your orders to watch me, what did she say?"

Suddenly, Tonks was quiet.

"She didn't say anything."

"What?"

"She didn't say anything."

"What do you mean?"

"The orders never came from Minister Bones," Tonks said. "She supported them but the original order came from Dumbledore."

Harry laughed darkly at that. Of course the orders came from Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore told me that I could go anywhere but I couldn't leave Little Whinging, didn't he?"

"That's pretty much the gist of it, yeah."

Harry threw the last pair of socks into his trunk and then closed it violently.

"I get that Dumbledore is busy, I really do," Harry said as he worked on locking his trunk. "But he asks everything of me and gives nothing, and I mean nothing, back in return. Now you are telling me that he's had me confined to Little Whinging this whole time."

"It was for your safety," Tonks said. Harry didn't think she was particularly convinced by that argument.

"I'm going to The Burrow. I'll be safer there than anywhere else and I won't be forced to live with these people."

Speaking of the Dursleys, that moment was when Vernon decided to see what all the commotion coming from Harry's room was about. He tore open Harry's door and found Harry placing the lock on his trunk with some random woman with him.

"Who in bloody hell are you?" Vernon yelled upon seeing Tonks.

"I'm Harry's bodyguard," Tonks said simply. It wasn't quite true but the answer was close enough to the truth. Vernon immediately gave Tonks a quick scan from head to toe and back again before hastily deciding that Tonks would be a poor bodyguard. Of course, Vernon was only considering her stature when he came to that ill-informed conclusion and not her ability with a wand.

"I don't care if you're the Prime Minister yourself! Get out of my house!"

By this time, Petunia and Dudley had joined Vernon in the doorway, all three of them blocking the doorway. Harry grabbed his trunk and marched right up to Vernon, who stood like a wall between him and the freedom he so desperately desired.

"Listen, I'm leaving," Harry said firmly. "I'm not coming back. I've taken everything of mine that I care about. The rest of it you can sell, put it in the bin, or set it on fire for all I care."

"What do you mean when you say you're leaving?" Vernon asked suspiciously.

"I am here against my own will," said Harry plainly. "You don't want me here and I want to be here even less than you want me. I have friends, a real family of sorts, and they're out that door. I watched a classmate die last year and my godfather die just a few weeks ago. I'm tired of coming here and pretending like we're family for a few weeks for reasons that have never been accurately explained to me. So when I walk out that door, I will be gone for good. I won't come back. I won't ask you for help. I won't come and visit. I'll be gone from your lives forever. You can even pretend that I'm dead if that makes it all better for you. You can mourn for me as the lost cause that I was or celebrate and live your life free of the burden that my life has placed on yours. In either case, I'm walking out that door and if you try and stop me, I'll throw you down the goddamn stairs myself."

Harry stared up at Vernon who looked back at Harry. For a moment, Harry thought that he was going to say something. Instead, he simply back out of the room as Dudley and Petunia separated, creating a space for Harry and Tonks to walk through. Harry picked up his trunk and dragged it out of the room and down the stairs where he stopped to collect a few odds and ends from the cupboard under the stairs.

Finally, once his trunk was locked once more, Harry looked back up where the Dursleys stood.

"There are people that are trying to kill me," said Harry. "They may come here looking for me. If they do, tell them anything you need to save yourselves because I won't be here to do it."

Harry reached down to pick up his trunk before one final thought came to his mind. He looked back up to where Petunia stood.

"I never really got a chance to know my mother, but I know that she would have been terribly disappointed in the person you've become."

Harry stared at Petunia as she absorbed Harry's words. Everyone in the room turned to Petunia to see what kind of a reaction she would have. In the end, all she did was nod her head, which was a far better response than Harry would have ever expected from her.

Harry picked up his trunk and dragged it out the front door, closing it behind him. It was the last time he would ever visit Number Four Privet Drive and, true to his word, he never saw any of the Dursleys again. Harry walked all the way out to the curb, Tonks just behind him.

Harry drew his wand and made to lift his arm when Tonks stopped him.

"What are you doing?" Tonks asked.

"Calling the Knight Bus."

"Oh Merlin," Tonks snickered. "I can Apparate you know."

"Good for you."

"Which means that I can also take you with me."

"Oh," said Harry. He didn't know that was a thing you could do. "What about my stuff?"

"Hold onto it. If you let it go in the process, I can't tell you where it will wind up."

"OK...what do I do?"

Tonks extended an elbow.

"Wrap your arm around mine. It's easier to hang on that way."

"Hang on?"

"I'm not going to lie. Apparition is not an entirely pleasant experience. You're going to want to let go. Don't."

"Great," said Harry as he wrapped his elbow around hers. Then, he stood his trunk on end and held onto the handle as tight as he could.

"Ready?"

"Sure."

Without warning, the world suddenly flipped upside down and Harry suddenly had the feeling as if he was being squeezed through a tube several sizes too small for him. Thankfully, in the moment just before Harry thought he was going to forget out to breathe, the sensation lifted and they were suddenly in the field just beyond the Burrow.

However, as they stopped, the world seemed to keep spinning and Harry turned and immediately lost his lunch.

"That happens the first few times you do it," Tonks said. "You'll get used to it."

"Still think I prefer a broom."

Tonks chuckled. "And you wanted to take the Knight Bus."

"I suppose this was quicker, wasn't it?"

"Much," Tonks said. "Now, let's get inside. We're going to have to explain why we're here."

Harry looked up and marveled at The Burrow, the home of Harry's favorite wizarding family, the Weasleys. Harry had met his best friend Ron on his first day at Hogwarts. His family had even been the ones to help him onto Platform 9 and ¾ in the first place. From then on, Harry and Ron had been thick as thieves.

It had been a year later when Harry had visited The Burrow for the first time. While the house wasn't opulent by any stretch of the imagination, it was distinctly magical in its construction with rooms and floors added as the family had grown. It was the purest representation of the joy of magic and for that, and its inhabitants, The Burrow was one of Harry's favorite places.

As Harry and Tonks approached the house, Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley was standing outside the door, clearly looking at them.

It was only when they got closer that he realized that she wasn't smiling.

"Tonks, we have to wait outside," Mrs. Weasley said sternly before looking at Harry. "You have a visitor."

"What?"

"Just head on in."

Confused, Harry left his trunk in the company of Mrs. Weasley and Tonks before heading inside. The interior of The Burrow was as magical as the outside. Random household items floated through the air, acting of their own accord, part of the automated magical system that Mrs. Weasley had installed years ago to assist her around the house. In the sitting room, a large clock with nine hands, each of them named for one of the members of the Weasley family, told Harry exactly where everyone was at. Normally, it would have said "School" or "Work" or "Travelling."

However, now all of the hands pointed to a single spot on the clock where a six would have normally been: "mortal peril."

"I suppose we are all in mortal peril now, aren't we?" said the Weasleys's guest sitting at the head of the table. He was a tall, elderly man with a long, white beard, the stereotypical Muggle impression of a wizard. Harry had often wondered if he had dressed that way intentionally as a sort of homage to how Muggles viewed magic. His robes today were a dark red and velvet and stretched all the way to the floor. He wore a hat made out of that same red velvet on his head with a short, flat top, a typical wizard's hat.

But of all the features that Albus Dumbledore was known for, it was his glasses, a set of half-moon spectacles, and the eyes that lie behind them, blue and sparkling, that were the most notable.

Dumbledore sat at the table, his eyes locked on Harry's face as Harry finally looked back at him.

"Are we, sir? According to The Prophet, we're making great progress on catching Death Eaters."

"All newspapers are prone to exaggeration from time to time," Dumbledore conceded. "Just as all teenagers are prone to rash actions."

"Is that why you are here?"

"I'm here to remind you of the importance of the role that family plays in your life, Harry."

"Thank you for the reminder," Harry sneered, not unlike a certain Slytherin classmate of his.

"You are aware that the Dursleys, by virtue of your blood relation to your Aunt Petunia, provide with a protection from Voldemort that we cannot emulate anywhere else."

"I remember," Harry said. "Does that include the streets around Number Four Privet Drive?"

"I'm sorry?"

"That blood protection? If I'm out in the middle of Privet Drive, does that work there?"

"Why do you ask?" Dumbledore asked in confusion.

"Because you let me wander around those streets for weeks and none of my tails said anything!" Harry roared, slamming his fist on the table between them. The last time Harry had seen Dumbledore, he had screamed at the Headmaster. In the following weeks, Harry's resentment towards the Headmaster had only grown.

"I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Because if the blood pact works only while I'm at Number Four, then I shouldn't have been allowed to leave the house, right? But the people that were following me let me wander all over Little Whinging on your orders!"

Dumbledore sat calmly while Harry shouted, mimicking much of their initial interaction after Sirius's death. This time, however, Harry wasn't going to back down and he wasn't going to relax.

"Voldemort has no idea where you live. Without that information, your safety was ensured by the people that I tasked to follow you."

"But I didn't know that," Harry fought back. "I didn't know that because you haven't explained any of this to me. Fudge gets fired, we have a new Minister of Magic that says that she's on board with you and I hear nothing from you. Not a word."

"I trust you understand that I unfortunately have more responsibilities than just you, Harry."

Those words hit Harry like a Bludger to the stomach.

"Excuse me?"

"I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts as well as the head of The Order of the Phoenix. As you just said, the Minister of Magic has given me more leeway with our actions. I do apologize if it seems that I have no had enough time for you, but the truth of the matter is that my responsibilities take up a great deal of time."

"Neither can live while the other survives," Harry countered.

"I'm sorry?"

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," Harry said, his eyes closed as he thought back to the words that he had repeated in his head hundreds of times in the last month. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."

Harry opened his eyes and looked back at Dumbledore, a fire burning deep in his chest.

"Neither can live while the other survives," Harry repeated. "While you are running a school and the Order, I'm a fifteen-year-old kid with a noticeable lack of fighting experience who is supposed to defeat the greatest Dark wizard in the history of the world!"

"You honestly think that I would let you face Voldemort alone? Untested?"

"I don't know what to think," Harry admitted. "I think that my godfather died a month ago and other than that night, I have heard a word from you. I think that you promised that you wouldn't keep any secrets from me, but that doesn't mean that you have any real urgency to tell me the truth. I think that you are a teacher and not my father or my guardian."

Dumbledore was clearly frustrated with Harry's outburst judging based on the cold glare aimed in Harry's direction.

"You believe that I have overstepped my bounds in terms of my impact on your life."

It wasn't a question.

"It seems like it," Harry replied.

"I cannot say that I disagree. I have admittedly exerted a great deal of influence over your life. However, I say that I only do it out of concern for you."

"If you did it out of concern for me, why have you never bothered to actually teach me anything?" Harry snapped. "I asked Remus to teach me the Patronus. You had me learn Occlumency with Snape."

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"We're not in school. I'll call him whatever I please," Harry fired back. "But that's the problem. Everyone around you simply does what you ask without asking any questions. You invaded the Weasleys's home so that you could scold me for leaving Privet Drive. You're the only person that could get away with something like that and you take advantage of that."

"I felt that it was important to come and talk to you tonight about the ramifications of your actions."

"You came to lecture me like a parent or a teacher. But right now? You are neither of those things. It's July. I'm not a student and I'm not your son. I am tired of being told what is expected of me without any understanding of why. I'm tired of secrets. When I am at Hogwarts, I am your student and I will do as you ask within reason. But outside of the classroom, if you want me to listen to you, then you can't let me go a whole month without so much as a letter. You sent me to that hellscape again and you left me there alone. I'm never going back there. If you try and take me back, I will run."

"I understand. I have no intention of returning you to the Dursleys," Dumbledore replied. "I believe that we can make the appropriate considerations for your protection here."

Harry blinked at Dumbledore. Then, from somewhere deep in his stomach, something finally boiled over.

"THEN WHY THE HELL HAVEN'T WE BEEN DOING THAT FOR YEARS?" Harry screamed, finally grabbing the chair at the end of the table and smashing it against the wall next to him. "YOU ARE TELLING ME THAT I COULD HAVE BEEN SAFE HERE AND YOU PUT ME WITH THOSE PEOPLE BY CHOICE!?"

Just like when Harry had started destroying Dumbledore's office, Dumbledore remained stationary, never betraying any sort of emotion, which only made Harry even more furious.

"From now on, if you want me to play your games, you talk to me and you tell me everything. If I think for a second that you aren't telling me everything that I need to know, then I'm done."

Dumbledore paused for a moment and then stood.

"There are a number of older, wiser wizards that don't ask for that kind of information from me. Yet, they still listen when I ask."

"But you don't ask me, sir. You order me around like I'm your own personal soldier. And as for those older, wiser wizards, they listen to you because they trust you."

The silent accusation hung in the air between them as Harry, furious and red-face, glared at Dumbledore, serene as always. Finally, Dumbledore nodded.

"I will do what I can to tell you what I know, Harry. But if full disclosure at all times is what you are looking for, then I cannot promise that there is a place for you among the members of the Order."

Dumbledore walked passed Harry and out the door, offering no words to Mrs. Weasley. Instead, he simply told Tonks to walk with him. Harry watched Dumbledore and Tonks walk away, talking in hushed tones before both turned and Apparated away.

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked down at the shards of the chair that he had shattered. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley gave her wand a wave and the chair was one once more, good as new.

"He can be a frustrating man," Mrs. Weasley said quietly. "Now, would you like some supper?"

Harry took a seat at the table as Mrs. Weasley busied herself with the wand work required to make up a casserole. While she worked, she told Harry all about life at The Burrow. Apparently, Ron had gone to visit Neville for the evening and would likely be back in the morning while Hermione would arrive at The Burrow in a few days' time. Mrs. Weasley talked for the entire time it took her to whip up some dinner as well as the length of time that it took Harry to eat it.

And Harry barely heard a word.