A Knut to Start the Revolution
Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.
Harry Potter lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, meditating on the sheer absurdity – no, the futile absurdity of having the entire British wizarding world fawning all over him once again, now that his godfather had paid the price for getting proof of Voldemort's return.
Harry missed Sirius. It hurt so much when he'd unconsciously ask Hedwig if she was bringing a letter from him, only to realise he wasn't sending anything, not even a breath of air or a prophetic dream. And yet, he'd had to go back to the Dursleys because of those blasted blood-based protections.
The protections, he reflected, which might well be a bit less useful than Dumbledore would assume, if Voldemort's blood fooled them.
And because Harry missed Sirius, and had been wronged by so many people from the Ministry, that one night in late June would eventually set Harry on a path that would change the wizarding world.
The next morning, Harry woke up, went downstairs, and desultorily fixed himself up some breakfast. As he munched on his fried eggs and bacon, washing them down with orange juice, he happened to notice a slightly clumsy brown-haired woman walking along Privet Drive.
Ah, Tonks, you can't fool me, Harry thought as he smirked to himself.
Unfortunately, Aunt Petunia's rude voice broke in on his reverie.
"Get it yourself, Aunt. Or shall I write my letter?"
That shut her up, and gave Harry's Inner Slytherin an idea or three, although in his current state he wasn't really in the mood to pay attention.
For lack of anything better to do, Harry trudged up the stairs to his bedroom, and closed the door. He wondered what Remus was doing, and if the man would mind just talking about Sirius for a while. On impulse, Harry grabbed some paper and a pen, and scribbled out a letter.
I was wondering if it would be all right if I could talk to you a bit about Sirius. I really would like to talk to you, when you can get out here, please.
Harry threw the letter on his desk, and lay back on his bed, and thought about his summer after he'd left the train station. Luckily, old Mad-Eye and company had cowed the Dursleys enough that all Harry had to do was mention The Letter, and even Uncle Vernon would shut up and turn an impressive shade of puce.
Unbidden, unwanted, thoughts of Harry's wasted Occlumency lessons came to the fore, and along with them, Snape and all his snarky, foul, unwanted comments. "Fame isn't everything" being just the opening salvo in five long years of a man, normally so intelligent he fooled Voldemort in the 1970s and 1990s, deluding himself by giving in to his hatred for James Potter as though he were in a perpetual time warp, to the point where he ascribed qualities to Harry that didn't even exist.
By now, Harry's Inner Slytherin was banging away, making a terrible racket, and Harry finally gave up and let those thoughts arise to the surface.
If Snape thinks you're such an attention-grabbing brat who'll take any steps necessary to cash in on his fame, why not prove him right? The entire wizarding world would give you whatever you wanted on a silver platter, and if Dumbledore let you get away with murder before, now that he feels bad over the way he screwed up royally, he'd give you the moon if you asked.
And that gave Harry his first brainstorm. Abruptly, he stood up, then sat at his desk. Quill met parchment, and the well-crafted result was:
Dear Madam Bones,
As you know, I am the foremost target of Voldemort's wrath, and after the disgraceful attempt last year to use my imminent need for self-defence against me, I want to ensure that it never happens again.
I would like an emergency dispensation to use any and all magic as necessary to further my ability to protect myself from Voldemort and his minions without having to look over my shoulder, metaphorically speaking, at a Ministry whose current leader has, regrettably, been less than adequately concerned with my protection.
With a smile, Harry sent Hedwig off to deliver Remus's letter, then go to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic, and sat back to ponder what to do next. After a few moments, he realised what he needed to do, and picked up the telephone, calling for Directory Enquiries.
After some false starts with wrong telephone numbers, Harry was on the telephone with one Hermione Granger.
I got a plot bunny from Misato on Fictionalley about Harry Potter starting a revolution to oust Minister Fudge. :) This is the new version.
Also, thanks go to Maddevillechilde for the beta work on the original version of this. :)
A word on the HBP and DH canon - unlike in "Vengeance" which is a post-HBP AU, I will use the 'orthodox' locations of the Horcruxes as outlined by JKR in DH and Harry will be an accidental Horcrux; however I have an alternative in mind for how to end the battle between Voldemort and Harry.