"Dumbledore!" Snape called as he ran towards the old man standing in his office, "Dumbledore! You must alert The Order immediately! I have just heard from Lucius that the Dark Lord is planning an attack sometime tomorrow. I don't know any details but it seemed that he thinks he has found a weapon that will aid in the destruction of Potter."
Dumbledore gazed out the open window as he sighed and said, "Thank you, Severus. You have been a great help. NowI need you to go to the headquarters and collect anyone who is there and willing to help. Bring them to me immediately. Oh, and on your way out please send Minerva to my office."
"Yes, professor." Snape said politely before turning around and walking swiftly towards the door and down the stairs.
Once Snape had left Dumbledore sighed yet again and strode over to the perch where Fawkes was sleeping.
"Fawkes," Dumbledore said gently while stroking the bird's bright orange feathers, "Fawkes, I need you to do something for me. You must go to the Weasley's and wake Molly and Arthur; they'll know what to do. Then I want you to findCharlie Weasley,he's in Romania, andMundungus Fletcher, who seemed tohave run off.Bring them to me when you find them. Do you understand?"
Fawkes chirped loudly and nodded his head before flying out of the openwindow and into the the dark night sky.
It was in the few moments after Fawkes flew away and before Professor McGonagall entered his office that Dumbledore looked into his mirror mounted on the wall opposite his desk. Dumbledore looked at his old skin, creased with wrinkles. He reached up and touched hislong white hair that reached all the way down to the middle of his back. The usual sparkle in his eye had disappeared over the past few months as the deaths had increased. How could he let this happen? How could he let this situation get so out of control? He was supposed to fight. Fight for Harry, fight for order members, fight for the lives of the thousands of innocent people that would loose their lives if they lost this battle.
But Dumbledore was old and fragile, and was wondering just how much longer he could fight. Because Dumbledore couldn't do what all of those people needed him to do. He couldn't kill Voldemort. Only Harry had the power to do that. And in his heart, Dumbledore knew that there was really nothing more he could do to fight except to support the one who could, even if that cost him his life. This was out of his hands. Dumbledore smiled at his reflection, looking at himself for what could be the last time as McGonagall knocked on his door...