Disclaimer: God these get soo boring. Well, yeah, all the Harry Potter books belong to me, I bought them from Waterstone's when they were released... The story plot belongs to me, the characters don't, or anything else that you might recognise.

Chapter 6

Harry woke with a start. The nightmare that he had just had was fading quickly, but he could still recall standing alone: the people who cared about him refusing to help. He suppressed a shudder. That won't happen, he told himself firmly, turning over in bed. After an half hour of sleeplessness he got out of bed and padded to the common room, planning to complete the three foot long essay that Snape had set in the previous lesson.
"Hello Harry." A quiet voice addressed him, making him jump and spin simultaneously, in order to face the speaker. He saw the tall, thin, familiar figure of Professor Dumbledore in the dim light of the glowing embers.
"Sir," Harry replied stiffly with an inclination of his head. Dumbledore hadn't spoken to him since last June, and he was nursing bitter feelings towards the headmaster who'd offered no help and support when it was most needed.
"Harry, sit down, please."
Harry sat down slowly, averting his eyes from Dumbledore. Just seeing his calm face made Harry seethe with anger.
"I know that I haven't to you lately-" Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. Lately? He thought bitterly, he hasn't spoken to me since last June "Yes Harry, you're probably right-" Harry blinked, he hadn't spoken out loud, so how did Dumbledore know what he was thinking? "I haven't spoken to you or even acknowledged you for nearly a year, and for that I apologize." He proceeded calmly. Harry slumped in his chair, turning to look at the ashes in the fire rather than at Professor Dumbldore's face. He breathed deeply and counted to ten, trying fruitlessly to crush the rage that was coursing through his body.
"I have, however come to the conclusion that you are ready now, have been ready for many years that is to say- to know what needs to be known. His fingers met in a steeple which he rested his head on. He looked at Harry with tired blue eyes. Harry smiled spitefully, noticing with small satisfaction that Dumbledore looked much older than he had done previously.
"You see Harry, the Prophecy that Voldemort wanted was about you both, not just him."
Harry sighed in exasperation. "I already knew that." He said with forced calmness.
"look." Dumbledore stood and picked up something at the foot of his chair. The pensieve. He placed the tip of his wand against his temple for a few seconds. When he withdrew it he pulled with it some silvery, gossamer- like threads of what, Harry know knew to be, memories.
They swirled around in the pensieve, never in the same pattern, like billowing smoke. Dumbledore tapped the side of it, and a figure rose out. A gasp escaped from Harry as he realised who it was. Professor Trelawny, a slightly younger version of her, peered out at her with a vague expression on her face.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...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...and either must die at the hands of the other for neither can live while the other survives....The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...." Came the harsh, hoarse tones that Harry had heard her use only once before, when she had made the prophecy about Voldemort's return.
"Me?" Harry whispered.
"It could have been either you or Neville Longbottom, but Harry," he said quietly, "it was you that he marked as an equal."
"But,-why me? How do you know?" It could be a mistake. You could have made a mistake."
"I'm afraid Harry, that there is no doubt. Voldemort went after you, not Neville. Marked you as his equal, not Neville."
"But how do you know?"
"Harry, ha killed your parents, tried to kill you. Not Neville. It's obvious that it was you that he wanted out of the way, before you got the chance to do any damage to what he had accomplished. But, even as a baby you were a match for him. Indeed, there is no doubt at all." Dumbledore returned gently.
"So-" Harry swallowed, "one of us has to die." It wasn't a question.
Dumbledore rubbed his forehead, clearly showing his distress. "Harry I'm so sorry. That's the reason that I didn't want to tell you. I thought that it was too great a burden for a young person to carry."
Harry looked at Dumbledore, numbly registering the tear that rolled down his wrinkled cheek. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to make sense of the tumult of thoughts that were clogging his mind. One us have to die. And if it is me that does, he'll be here forever, with no one to stop him. Harry's brain told him over and over again. No wonder Dumbledore hadn't wanted to tell him.

A/N: sorry that was so long. It wasn't anything to do with Lucius or Tonks either, though you'll see why in the next chapter. Oh, and I put a direct quote from one of the books, which again,as you well know, doesn't belong to me.