In the Great Hall the next morning, Harry thumped his head on the table.

BOY-WHO-LIVED SPEAKS OUT! The paper on the table trumpeted for all to see. Somehow they'd gotten a picture of Harry shooting water into Dumbledore's face. Harry wondered if he could have it framed and sent to the goatbeard...

To be honest, the Prophet article, while over-dramatic, wasn't all that bad. There was mention of the Task on page two, and there Harry got called a rising dark lord for using Parseltongue and refusing to explain. Still, they got almost all the points from his little speech right, which hurt the 'rising dark lord' angle a bit, and Neville even got a mention later on for his stunt at last night's dinner. The quotes were spot on. Suspiciously so even, considering the chaos that followed… well, at least they had stopped screwing with him for now.

In any case, the true problem was the owls. Or more specifically, so many owls and letters that Harry's end of the breakfast table was literally covered. He was buried up to his neck in the things!

Hermione looked both mildly appalled at the sheer amount and thoroughly amused at Harry's grumpy reaction. "Would you like me to transfigure you a snorkel, Mister Potter?" she said, as deadpan as she could manage.

"Ha. Bloody. Ha." Harry grumbled, valiantly working an arm free to grab a letter. "...Oh good gods, this one is in French! When the bloody hell did my life story go international!?"

"Language Harry." Hermione said absently as she took a bite of her eggs.

Fred put on a show as he stroked an imaginary beard. "Well, if we were to guess,"

"The same time you made your confession in front of two visiting schools?" George finished.

Harry sighed. "Here, Hermione, can you tell me what it says?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and took the envelope, flicking it open and taking out the note. "Hmm… well, this woman wants to express that she's sorry that Britain has treated you so poorly, and says that France is certainly superior."

"Lovely."

"And to prove it, she's sent along…" Hermione's face went pink as she withdrew a pair of shrunken and very lacy panties, which quickly expanded to full size.

Harry thumped his head on the desk with a groan even as the surrounding Gryffindors whistled and cheered, causing a small avalanche of mail onto Lee Jordan's plate, just across from him. "I wonder if it's too late to ask the nice dragon if she'd eat me."

"Oh! Speaking of, Harry, they're taking them away later on tonight, maybe you should go visit her one more time and thank her?" Hermione said, gingerly setting the envelope to one side with the frilly underwear tucked inside.

Harry beamed. "Great idea, Hermione! I could introduce you, if you'd like!"

George managed not to smile as he replied; "Now Harry, bringing a girl home to meet your dragon is a very serious affair."

Hermione pinked as Harry lazily flipped the V-sign at George. "I am curious as to why I'm getting fan-mail now. I mean, I never got any before."

"What do you mean, Harry?" Neville asked, frowning.

"Just that, I've never gotten anything other than from a few classmates, the Ministry, or the Hogwarts faculty."

Hermione cocked her head. "That… doesn't sound right."

Neville's eyes widened. "Wait, Harry, didn't you get statements of your accounts from Gringotts?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Why? Should I have?"

There was a synchronized dropping of jaws. "Harry." Neville said worriedly. "Gringotts mail is sacrosanct. You do not mess with it, on pain of… well, pain. And there's no chance of Gringotts owls getting lost, they're the best there is."

Hedwig chose that moment to swoop low and peck at Neville, to the amusement of all.

"Okay okay! Not you, Hedwig!" Neville said, offering up his bacon as a sacrifice, which Hedwig gladly took.

Harry laughed, but then turned serious. "...Maybe I should write them. Someone got a bit of parchment?"

Five minutes later, Hedwig was winging out of the Great Hall.

"Well, we'll see what happens there. In the meantime, what do I do about-"

"I see you're as much of a glory-hound as ever, Potter!" came the not-at-all-sultry tones of Draco Malfoy.

Harry kept talking as if no one had spoken. "-these bloody letters? I mean, if all of them are like that one…" he said, pointing to the one next to Hermione… which Draco, irritated at being ignored, immediately snatched up.

"Let's see what your dear admirer's sent you-" Draco started, but paused in shock as he drew out the lacy undergarments.

Harry turned around. "Hm? Oh, you can keep them Draco. I think they're your size."

The twins, and most of those watching, cracked up laughing. Draco reddened and whipped out his wand-

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Draco, and several others, paled as Professor Moody hobbled up the aisle at high speed, followed closely by McGonagall. "Did the first lesson not sink in?! Maybe I should turn ya into a flea this time-"

"Alastor, NO! We talked about this!" McGonagall said sternly, but came up short. "Mister Malfoy! What are you holding there!?"

Draco looked down in shock at the underwear in his hand. "I-it's Potter's, not mine!"

"Not my style Draco. I prefer something a bit…" Harry eyed the underwear with raised eyebrows. "...looser, for one."

Fred and George were crying tears of mirth and gasping for air, while Neville and Hermione were desperately trying to keep blank faces.

"Mister Potter, is that article yours?"

"No, Professor. It seems I have fans overseas who wish to show their appreciation. Hermione discovered that piece and immediately put it back in its envelope, as she was right to do," Hermione blushes but looks pleased at Harry's assertion. "But then Malfoy, not liking that I was ignoring his umpteenth attempt to insult and berate me, snatched MY private mail away to parade it around… and pulled that out. Then he pulled his wand."

The other Gryffindors nodded, as did the surrounding students. Moody looked at the letter pile with suspicion. "Careful Potter, who knows what could be hidden in there…"

"A matching bra, one would hope!" called some wag from farther up the table, causing a chorus of laughter, to the obvious displeasure of McGonagall.

"I see. Mister Malfoy, thirty points from Slytherin for drawing your wand on another student, stealing their mail, and airing those… unmentionables in public, as well as a detention with Mister Filch! Now go!"

Draco scowled and stomped away, but a quiet cough from Moody had him running back and giving the letter and panties over with a red face, causing even more laughs.

McGonagall turned to Harry. "Mister Potter-"

Neville and the twins suddenly tensed, as did much of the Gryffindor table, eyeing the professor warily, to her surprise. "What on earth is the matter?"

"Professor, Harry has a tendency to be dragged into things whether he wants to be or not." Neville said mildly… but still didn't relax.

"And since the staff hasn't helped him out all that much,"

"We will." the twins intoned with a rather dire look for the normally jocular brothers. McGonagall looks at the table in confusion but sees surprising solidarity. She coughs. "Mister Potter, the Headmaster would like to speak to you after breakfast."

"On what topic, Professor?" Harry asked with a mild expression.

"I do not know, Mister Potter." McGonagall replied.

Harry sighed. "What do you all think? Should I go?"

McGonagall frowned. "Mister Potter, you should not keep the Headmaster waiting."

Harry turned. "Professor, I'm pretty sure I know what this meeting is about. As it's almost certainly not about schoolwork or my academics, he has little authority to force me into a meeting. And to be frank, I'm not sure if I can talk to him at the moment without losing my temper and I don't want to do that."

Hermione bit her lip. "Still Harry, I think you should go… no, hear me out!" She quickly added as Harry turned with a disgruntled look. "You're going to have to do it eventually, and he's going to keep trying to talk to you…"

The others nodded. "I mean, he was looking out for you all during dinner yesterday." Neville pointed out.

"Best get it over with Harrikins."

"Before he sets Snape on you again."

Harry hesitantly nodded. "I guess…" he turns to McGonagall. "Professor, will you come with me?"

"What?"

"As a member of Gryffindor House, I'm asking if you will supervise my meeting with the Headmaster, as is my right under the school charter."

McGonagall blinked in surprise and glanced at the Weasley twins… who whistled innocently. More disturbing though was the look on the faces of the other Gryffindors… they looked resigned, dismissive.

It hit McGonagall at that moment that the majority of her house thought that she wouldn't step in to help Mister Potter… perhaps not any of them!

Horrified at her revelation, she managed to say in a hoarse tone, "I will certainly accompany you, Mister Potter."

There were a few raised eyebrows, but the fact that even her helping a student was quickly dismissed made the Deputy Headmistress' heart break just a little.

Harry rose. "Thanks Professor. Let's go... and the rest of you lot, don't peek at my mail!"

The walk to the gargoyle was tense, and neither spoke as the gargoyle smoothly stepped aside at the mention of 'Three Musketeers'. Harry paused at the doorway, looking hesitant.

"Is something the matter, Mister Potter?"

"So many things, but most of them don't matter right now." he mumbled.

McGonagall looked at the boy, who had done things his parents would be so proud of and endured things that would have horrified them to their core. Reaching a decision, she laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, startling the young man out of his reverie.

"Mister Potter, I am afraid that I owe you an apology… no, many apologies, for both your placement and your treatment at this school. I have failed you, and I begin to believe I have been failing my House far longer than that."

She squeezed his shoulder. "But, Mister Potter… Harry." she corrected, her normally stern expression softening for a moment. "If you feel unsafe, and if you feel Hogwarts is no longer your home, I will assist you in finding a new one in any way that I can… starting in this meeting."

Harry looked like he'd been hit with a brick, looking at McGonagall with confusion and shock.

"Now collect yourself Mister Potter, and do try to keep your temper in check… unless it is needed."

With that she pushed open the door, and gently urged him into the office. Dumbledore was at his desk, and immediately glanced up. "Ah, Harry my boy-"

Harry winced, and both adults picked up on it immediately. "Harry? What's wrong?" Dumbledore asked, looking rather surprised at the pained look on his face, head bowed.

"...That's what my relatives call me."

"Harry?"

"No. 'Boy'. I can't remember them ever using my name in private."

McGonagall's expression sharpened in distaste, while Dumbledore remained confused. "Come now Harry, surely you exaggerate-"

Dumbledore flinched back in surprise as Harry's head whipped up and two piercing green pricks of anger burrowed into his own twinkling eyes. "Do I need to swear another oath to convince you, Headmaster?" Harry said, fists clenched.

Dumbledore blinked, and reassumed his grandfatherly persona. "Ah… no, I don't think that will be necessary. Minerva, you may see to your other duties."

"Mister Potter has requested my presence in this meeting as his Head of House, Headmaster." McGonagall replied immediately and without hesitation. She was pleased to see Harry's posture relax slightly, though he was obviously still on edge.

Dumbledore frowned and looked like he was going to comment… then leaned back in his chair. "Very well. Please take a seat, Harry."

Harry slowly sat across from Dumbledore, hands clutching the armrests. McGonagall conjured a comfortable armchair for herself before sitting next to him.

As Harry glanced restlessly around the office, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Harry, there are a number of things about yesterday's happenings that are deeply troubling."

Harry nodded. "I agree."

Dumbledore smiled. "Perhaps we should start at the First Task? I was most disturbed, as were many others, when you started to speak Parseltongue."

"As I said in the hall, I didn't know dragons could understand it."

"Quite, but I would like to know what precisely you said to it to convince it to give you the egg."

"I didn't try to convince it. I thought I was going to die."

McGonagall and Dumbledore both looked at Harry with horror. "Harry, why on earth would you think that?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore with tired, angry eyes. "Other than everything I mentioned in the Great Hall? How about the fact that I'm three years younger than the other Champions? Or that no one other than Hermione tried to help me?"

"Harry, the rules-"

"Sod the bloody rules!" Harry shouted. "If I wasn't such good friends with Hagrid, I would have gone into that task blind! I told Cedric, but neither Fleur or Krum seemed all that surprised themselves! Why didn't one of the teachers try to help me? Oh, right, they all thought I was a cheat!"

"Back to your original question, if the dragon had managed to get a good bite on me, how exactly would you have prevented me from dying? What if it had breathed fire on me and I couldn't dodge? What if it clubbed me with its tail? Bloody hell, what if it just sat on me?"

"The dragon tamers and I would have intervened, Harry."

"And precisely how fast can you stun a dragon, sir?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "We're getting off track, Harry. What did you say to the dragon, if you didn't try to convince it to give you the egg?"

Harry shrugged, noticing that Dumbledore didn't answer his question. "I vented."

"Pardon?"

Harry explained how he had complained of his life, his sorrows, his pains to the dragon. Dumbledore was stony-faced by the end and McGonagall was holding back tears.

"Harry my-" Dumbledore paused at Harry's sudden glare before starting again. "Why didn't you speak with me or McGonagall about this?"

"You put me there, sir. And you never listened when I asked not to go back."

Both adults were silent at that, and harry leaned back in his chair. "So. What else, Headmaster?"

"Ah, yes… what did the dragon say to you in the nest."

Harry tensed. "...nothing that would concern you, Headmaster."

"I must insist, Harry, it could be-"

"It is the only token of motherly affection anyone outside of Mrs. Weasley has ever offered me, and it is for me. Please don't ask again."

Dumbledore seemed disappointed, but saw Harry wouldn't budge. He sighed and continued on. "Then with that taken care of, I suppose I should ask what happened next."

Harry told him about Ron's not-apology and talking to Hermione and coming up with the plan to speak in the Great Hall.

"Harry, you must learn to forgive-" Dumbledore was distracted when Harry snorted.

"Sorry, Hermione owes me five sickles."

Dumbledore pressed on. "I'm sure Mister Weasley is sorry for his actions."

"Maybe. But he called me a liar, a cheater, and tried to come back like nothing happened. I've let too much go, Headmaster, and I won't let him call himself my friend unless he makes a proper apology."

"Now Harry, surely the fact that he's willing to make up means something?"

"It means nothing when he was the one to break it off, sir. He knew me, and he knew I never wanted to be in this bloody clusterf-" he glanced at the unimpressed face of McGonagall. "-this mess of a tournament. If he can swallow his pride and jealousy to apologize and show me he knows why he needs to apologize, then I'll welcome him back. Until then, he can kiss a malaclaw."

Dumbledore seemed a little bewildered. "Harry-"

"Sir, my friends are my business. What else did you want to speak about?"

Dumbledore sighed and then turned grave. "Harry, what you did in the Great Hall was reckless and potentially dangerous."

"Dangerous maybe, but I did think it through. I had Hermione double check my wording."

"Revealing Voldemort's true history will likely incense his followers, Harry."

"Maybe, but it might also prevent students here from being his next generation of servants. You haven't done anything with the information, so I took a chance." Harry replied, sounding bored. McGonagall actually nodded at that, she had been worried about such a problem herself.

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, that was utterly reckless-"

"And there's no taking it back. What else?"

Dumbledore frowned at the blatant disrespect. "Well, your revelation of Sirius Black's innocence is another problem."

Harry looked at Dumbledore unbelievingly. "How in the blazing blue hells-"

"Mister Potter." McGonagall said gently but firmly.

Harry battled his temper. "How, Headmaster, is informing the population that my godfather was wrongfully arrested and held without trial a problem?"

"It implies that you had something to do with his escape from custody, and with recent articles in the Prophet it might pull your own character down further that you are associating with an alleged criminal."

"And the fact that you haven't called for a trial for him has nothing to do with that, does it sir?" Harry replied acidly.

"Mister Potter!" Mcgonagall barked, but Dumbledore sighed and pinched his nose. "I could not bring him in without risking my position and his life, Harry."

"Bollocks." Harry said, steamrolling over McGonagall's shocked gasp and incoming recrimination. "We have an invisibility cloak, five people to testify under oath that Pettigrew is the guilty party, and two former Marauders. We could literally sneak Sirius into the courtroom."

"Which is both foolhardy and risky-"

"It's not your risk alone to take!" Harry leaped out of his seat, slamming his palms against Dumbledore's desk. "I'm willing to risk anything to be free of the Dursleys, headmaster! Sirius is living in a cave eating rats because he wants to be close and help me with the tournament! A tournament that YOU set up the protections for, by the way!" Harry shouted.

"Mister Potter, calm down!" McGonagall reprimanded sharply. "Shouting gets us nowhere!"

Harry visibly struggled to bottle his temper again and sat back down, glaring at the Headmaster, who seemed shocked at Harry's sudden temper.

Still he coughed. "On that note Harry, about your placement… I am truly sorry."

Harry just looked at him for a while. "...And?"

Dumbledore cocked his head. "And what, Harry?"

"What do you intend to do about it?"

McGonagall saw it first. She'd seen it both James and Lily when they had gone to school. Different in so many ways, but they both got angry in the same manner. They'd shout and rave against injustices when they were annoyed or irritated…

"Well, I shall be speaking with your aunt and uncle on their deplorable treatment, and when you return this summer I should-"

...but when they were not just angry but furious, they'd go still and cold.

McGonagall rose from her chair immediately. "Albus, you cannot mean that! You expect Harry to go back to that horrible place? I told you all those years ago, they are the worst sort of muggles- no, the worst sort of people!"

She saw Harry shift slightly out of the corner of her eye, and inwardly hoped that she'd headed him off-

"Minerva, he must return. It is the only place where he is safe."

McGonagall winced at the words, and turned to look at Harry.

He was utterly immobile. He looked like a statue that had been carved into the chair he sat in. His entire body was tensed, and his eyes were locked on Dumbledore and, to McGonagall's surprise, glowing faintly, the green irises standing out under his messy hair.

"...Safe?" Harry whispered, quietly.

"Yes, Harry. There are wards that prevent you from being found by anyone magical unless they both know the location and mean you no harm. Similar to a Fidelius charm, but more flexible."

"...ah. That's why Lupin never checked up on me. Why none of my parents' supposed friends checked up on me. You never told them where I lived." his tone was hollow and heavy, and McGonagall unconsciously took a step back. The air in the office began to feel greasy and uncomfortable.

Dumbledore nodded. "I knew the Dursleys would not wish to be disturbed by our world, so I kept your location secret."

"...You knew they didn't like magic?"

"Yes, but I knew they would take care of you. Blood looks after blood."

"...How do the wards work, exactly?"

Mildly relieved that Harry seemed to have moved away from his own involvement at placing him with the Dursleys, Dumbledore leaned back in the chair. "They are based on love within the home, and on the fact that you call it your home-"

Harry jerked slightly. Again. Then a laugh bubbled to his lips, but it sounded broken and scornful. "Home? Love? That place never had either to offer me. That… house has NEVER been and NEVER will be my home!"

Dumbledore's eyes widened and he glanced over to a wall of silver instruments, which one by one all began to sputter. "Harry, I'm sure that you can find some affection for your relativ-"

The grand oak desk between the two wizards actually began to bubble, the wood warping and popping. A moment later, an enormous CRACK sounded as the desk collapsed into splinters!

McGonagall turned to see Harry slowly stand. "I will not go back. Not ever. That place is no home of mine!"

The instruments on the wall wailed and fell silent and Dumbledore stifled a wince. "Harry, I'm afraid that you must-"

"What possible authority do you have to make me go there, Headmaster?" Harry growled, clenching fists hard enough that McGonagall was sure there'd be bruises.

Dumbledore straightened. "I am your magical guardian, Harry. Until you come of age, of course." he said in a austere and confident tone, attempting to bring Harry around.

Harry looked at him blankly.. "You're my guardian."

"Yes, Harry."

"Then, Mister Dumbledore, please explain to me why you did not show up to check up on me once in fourteen years. Please tell me why I never knew about the truth of my parents, that magic existed, that I had money left to me, anything! Explain that to me, old man!" The silver instruments on the wall actually disintegrated into dust at that accusation.

Dumbledore's mouth fell open as he tried to form a rebuttal. After a moment, he closed it, deciding silence was the better option.

Harry inhaled, ready to keep going, but a burst of flame over Dumbledore's ruined desk interrupted him. Fawkes flapped into being in front of him, singing softly, flying slow circles just above their heads.

Harry's cold expression softened and finally broke, leavign a very tired young man smiling weakly at the pheonix. "Hello Fawkes." he managed… before glancing down at the desk. "Er… sorry about that." He looked around the room and saw that, while not as bad as the desk, several fixtures were bent, chipped, or even burnt slightly. Harry sighed when he realized that Fawkes' perch had been reduced to twisted metal. "Sorry Fawkes. I'll send for a new one."

Fawkes trilled consolingly, landing on Harry's shoulder and nudging him gently with his beak. Harry nodded and quickly pulled himself together, looking across at Dumbledore. "Sir, at the moment I'm too angry to continue, and I think doing so would wreck your office even more. So instead of just yelling like I would have last year, I'm going to just say this…"

Harry took a deep breath and glared at the headmaster. "As far as I'm concerned, you've failed me in ways I can't begin to think about, headmaster. You're the one that told me that our choices show who we truly are, and I have to say that yours frankly disgust me."

Dumbledore looked as if someone had told him there were no more lemon drops in the world. "Harry, my boy-"

"No.You've lost all right to use my first name, to call me 'my boy', to… to have ANY kind of relationship with me! I appreciate your previous advice and help, but this is… this is beyond the pale. Call me 'Mister Potter' from now on, you haven't earned the right to use my first name!"

Dumbledore looked stricken as Fawkes let out a quick few notes, calming Harry. "My decision stands, I still intend to leave Hogwarts when the year is up unless sweeping changes are made. I bet Sirius could prove his innocence in France, and I could convince Hermione to come with me to Beauxbatons if I asked. Frankly sir, you seem to think I'll just follow your word, and until you realize I'm not playing games, I don't think we have anything else to speak about."

Harry turned and stormed to the door, before looking to McGonagall. "And Professor… thanks."

McGonagall nodded with red-rimmed eyes. "Of course, Mister Potter. Should you need further assistance… please, come and speak to me."

Harry paused a moment before nodding hesitantly and descending down the stairs.

Dumbledore stared blankly at the door, mind awhirl. Glancing at the wall that had previously held the instruments used to keep track of the boy, he sighed as he realized that he had likely handled that as poorly as he possibly could have.

McGonagall stiffly sat in her chair. "Albus, what in the blazing blue hells were you thinking?"

"The wards can-" he sighed. "Could have kept him safe, Minerva…"

"It takes more than physical safety to raise a young man, Albus! You need love, comfort, role models… and I would bet my hat that Harry had not a one of those!"

"He needed to be kept safe, Minerva! The Death Eaters were still out there, and still are!"

"And what precisely have you done to help that, Chief Warlock?" McGonagall replied scathingly. "Second chances for all save the one you seem so willing to sacrifice the happiness of! Tell me Albus, how many Death Eaters today seem repentant of their actions besides that petty, bitter man in our dungeons?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples. "Perhaps it's best we take some time to reflect, Minerva…"

"I think that would be wise. And here's another thing to reflect on Albus; I intend to back Mister Potter to the hilt on this."

"Minerva, he must-"

"He must nothing, Albus! He's a young man who, quite rightfully, is scared of dying in this school! For excellent reason, considering this is the fourth year in a row that his life has been endangered on our watch! And I have had to take a long hard look at how I have treated him over the years, and I am ashamed of what I have found… and from the sound of it, you should be too. Good day, headmaster."

With that, McGonagall stormed out of the office, leaving Dumbledore looking forlornly at the remnants of his desk, deep in thought.