Strained Relations

Harry snorted and shook his head. It all comes back to Dumbledore. Again. And Mrs. Figg knew about the wizarding world; knew Dumbledore. She has probably been watching me my entire life. So that bastard has known all along what it was like at the Dursleys. Harry resolved then and there to have it out with Dumbledore as soon as he could find him. The old man's interference in his life was going to stop. True, that interference had apparently just saved his life, but he wasn't supposed to need protection at 4 Privet Drive.

Tonks was mystified at the hard look that washed over Harry's features.

"Tell me, Tonks," Harry remarked coldly, "do you people do everything that old man tells you to do, no matter how irrational it is?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, taken aback by his tone and the blatant disrespect shown toward the headmaster.

"Never mind," Harry muttered. "Thanks again for saving my life."

"Right," said Tonks, completely bewildered at the coldness that had entered the conversation when the subject of Dumbledore came up. Like most of magical Britain, she had grown up revering the hoary professor, and had jumped at the chance to join his band of secret 'protectors of the light.' Part of her job had been to guard Harry Potter in his muggle neighborhood; why would he resent that so much?

"Well, I'll just be going then…just wanted to make sure that you were truly okay."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I'm good. Nice to have met you."

Nymphadora Tonks left the hospital wing wondering if she had somehow managed to offend The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Later that same night, Albus Dumbledore massaged his temples as he tried to relieve his burgeoning headache and the ringing in his ears. Harry Potter had just shouted at him for what seemed like an eternity; he had barely been able to get a word in edgewise, and even the portraits of past headmasters had left their frames to escape the din in his office.

At one point Harry had almost drawn his wand, and the headmaster had wondered whether Harry actually possessed the courage to fire a spell at him. He knew he was in no real danger, so he had decided to just let the boy rant. He was, after all, guilty of far greater crimes against Harry than those he was being accused of. So he sat there and took his medicine like a man, his inaction only seeming to infuriate the boy further.

Harry had accused him of being aware of his mistreatment at the Dursleys for all these years. Guilty as charged, thought Dumbledore. He had accused him of locking him away for his "protection" when he needed to be learning how to defend himself. Very Guilty. Of failing in said protection, resulting in the death of Dudley Dursley. Guilty. Of isolating Harry from his friends. Guilty. Of failing to keep Harry informed about his bodyguards or what was happening in the magical world. Guilty. Of withholding his vault key from him. Guilty.

This last accusation had turned out to be more explosive than Dumbledore could have anticipated. When Harry had demanded that Dumbledore return his vault key, Dumbledore had patiently explained that it was far safer with him and that, in any case, Harry had no need for it. He couldn't go to Diagon Alley, so it made more sense for the key to remain in his possession. It was at this point that Harry had nearly drawn his wand, and Dumbledore knew he would never forget the exchange that followed:

"You…have…no…RIGHT…to…my…KEY!" Harry had gritted out through clenched teeth. "It belongs to me, headmaster. You have no bleeding right to it. I don't even know how much money my parents left me; did you know that? You are not my guardian, and I demand that you turn over my key this instant."

Dumbledore had made no move to comply with Harry's demand. He had just continued to look placidly at Harry.

Then something had seemed to click in Harry's brain, and he sat down heavily in one of the squashy chairs he had been pacing around.

"Bloody, bollocking, shite," he had breathed. "You are, aren't you? You're my guardian in the magical world."

Suddenly the degree to which Dumbledore had insinuated himself into all of Harry's affairs made sense to him. The old bastard could do so legally. He had placed him with the Dursleys. He had control over every aspect of Harry's life. Legally.

Dumbledore, realizing that this was getting out of hand, had put on his best grandfatherly twinkle and explained that everything he did as Harry's guardian was for Harry's benefit. That he was sorry for concealing so much from Harry, but he had wanted Harry to have an ordinary life, away from his fame in the wizarding world, for as long as possible. That he was more worried about Harry's protection from Death Eaters than his less-than-ideal conditions at the Dursleys. That he didn't want Harry to be bothered with trivial things like bank balances when there was so much for the young man to experience in the magical world. That he would have someone train Harry in advanced defensive magic when the new term began. That Harry was very important to him and he would understand everything better one day.

Harry had listened impassively to Dumbledore's earnest spiel, not uttering a single word in response.

When the old man finally finished, Harry had gotten up and walked out of the office without a word. Dumbledore considered locking him in until his temper cooled, but he didn't want to antagonize the boy any further than necessary. He was already worried that he had pushed Harry too far, and he needed the boy's cooperation for just a little while longer. And so he had let Harry depart.

Now Dumbledore sat in his throne-like chair and rubbed his temples, wishing that Severus were in the castle so that he could get one of his special migraine relievers. Snape's errand to Eastern Europe appeared to be taking most of the summer.

Now it truly begins, thought Dumbledore. Harry has started to rebel. We shall need to get a plan in place as soon as possible. He sighed in exasperation. He really was getting too old for this. Perhaps I shall my visit special friend tonight and relieve some of this stress.

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