A/N: And again we have a new reviews record! Thank you all SO much! Alas, in the next few weeks my school schedule may be forcing Mum and me to put the story on hold. We are still writing at a good pace, but it's looking less and less likely that we'll be able to maintain the update-per-week schedule through my final exams. If that should happen, we will probably put the story on hold for two to three weeks while I finish classes, but then I will be heading home to Florida for the summer, and have at least a few days before my summer job starts to write like a madwoman! We'll keep you posted on our progress, and the best and fastest way to get news is through our Yahoo Group, Jocelyn's Desk or my LiveJournal, where my ID is jocelyncs

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Leave-Taking

Six Hogwarts students had died in the attack on Hogsmeade Station. Two second year Hufflepuffs, Rose Zeller and Lydia Farrow, had been killed in the explosions on the train. Melanie Watson, a dorm-mate of Ginny's and younger sister of their Quidditch beater Lavinia, Harvey Nolan, a fourth-year Ravenclaw, and Jonathan Long, one of the Gryffindor Quidditch team's alternates, and a Slytherin named Michael Harris had died in the fighting. Four witches and five wizards from Hogsmeade had also died, along with thirteen Death Eaters including Bellatrix Lestrange.

And then there was Percy.

Harry never could remember the next few days very clearly. There were no classes for the first week, which left the students with far too little to do, so they all spent much of their time just sitting or wandering aimlessly. Ron and Ginny went home with their parents and remaining siblings, with the promise that Harry and Hermione would be allowed to leave for Percy's funeral.

Once or twice, the DA members who hadn't suffered deaths in their family attempted to get together to do some practicing. Hermione got ahold of a seventh-year Transfigurations textbook that included instructions on Conjuring, so they worked on conjuring stretchers and things like that for awhile, but nobody was very successful. Nobody could concentrate.

The school was so very quiet, quieter than it had been after the Quidditch game attack. Harry didn't see or hear anything from Peeves, and the portraits made little of their usual conversation as people walked by, except to occasionally inquire after a student's well-being. Soft sniffles and stifled sobs were frequently heard in the Great Hall during meals, and in common rooms and dormitories at night, and classmates spontaneously embracing in the halls was a frequent sight.

Harry and Hermione sat with Neville at the Gryffindor table for meals. One day, Harry found himself staring at the Head Table, and the few teachers still minding the school, and unexpectedly met the eyes of Snape. Hadn't it been Percy who had first told him, after being Sorted first year, who the Potions Professor was? Yes, it had. A pang of emotion, so intense that it was physically painful, went through him, and he understood all too well why so many of his classmates seemed to break down in tears without provocation. You never knew when the memories would hit.

Poor Percy. Poor Percy the Prefect. Perfect Percy. Percy the prat—who'd Obliviated the Minister of Magic and thrown away his entire, beloved career to save Harry after feeling the love of his parents in the Pillar of Storgé. His poor parents. Poor Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who'd fought with Percy and cried over him and welcomed him home after all. Poor Mrs. Weasley. The Boggart had been right. Her worst fear had come true.

The afternoon of Percy's funeral, Harry and Hermione spent most of the time with their arms around one Weasley or another. It was Friday afternoon. They'd gone to Mellie Watson and Jonathan Long's funerals on Thursday, as had many of the other Gryffindors, and by now, Harry felt a weariness in his bones that couldn't be explained by any physical exertion.

Unless it was from holding onto people so tight.

When it was over, they all returned to Headquarters, for which Harry was immensely relieved, because he desperately wanted to see Sirius. He and Hermione had Ron perpetually stuck between them; sometimes it seemed that their presence was the only thing keeping him upright. Bill and Charlie were taking turns doing the same thing for Mrs. Weasley. The twins...they held onto each other, as always, but now stayed closer together than ever, joined at the hip, it sometimes seemed.

So when they arrived, Harry only had one arm to spare, but Sirius gave him a gratifyingly strong hug as they came through the door. He ushered them all to the dining room where the Order had set out a large amount of food—which nobody managed to make much of a dent in. Finally, they all gave up and went out into the parlor.

Harry and Hermione sat with Ron between them as usual, and with Sirius on Harry's other side. Tonks and Remus were trying, with limited success, to talk to the twins, when Moody came in. "Dumbledore's here."

Wearily, Bill scrubbed at his face, "He was at the funeral."

"He just needs a word with a few of us," said Moody quietly. He caught the eyes of several in the room, and Remus and Sirius exchanged glances.

Sirius patted Harry's shoulder. "I'll be back in a bit, okay?"

"What's going on?" Harry asked, sitting up even though he was hampered slightly by Ron leaning against him.

"Could be anything," Sirius muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Don't trouble yourself," he said, noticing Ron, and gave Harry a little wave as he followed Moody out the door. Bill and Charlie transferred Ginny to the spot on the sofa that Sirius had just vacated, next to Harry, and went out as well.

"Wonder what that's about," George mumbled dully.

"Who knows," Hermione sighed, and beckoned to the twins.

Truly, after all that had happened, none of them could muster the energy to wonder what this latest meeting was about, and when Sirius, Remus, and the others returned, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had managed to cram themselves and the twins all onto the sofa together. And there they stayed for the rest of the evening.

They were allowed to stay at Headquarters all weekend, and it wasn't until they were about to leave for Hogwarts again that they got an inkling of what the Order was up to.

As usual, they got their information from Mrs. Weasley's yelling.

They heard her voice before deciphering her words, and Fred remarked with a weary smile, "Glad to hear her sounding like herself again at last."

Sitting in the parlor reading Defense books during the latest Order meeting, they could clearly hear Mrs. Weasley bellowing at someone from the basement kitchen. "YOU ARE NOT—RISK LIKE—WE CAN'T—LOST ONE OF MY CHILDREN ALREADY, DAMMIT!"

Ron froze in the act of reaching for another book, and they all stared at each other. "What the hell..." George muttered.

"Got any Extendable Ears?" Ginny said quickly.

"Come on." They all scrambled for the door.

The Imperturbable Charm on the door had either worn off or been removed in the past year, and they all clearly heard the tail end of the conversation.

"Molly, please, try to be rational," one of the Order Aurors was saying. "We can't just stop the war effort in its tracks."

Mrs. Weasley sounded as if she was crying. "You are NOT sending any of my children on this bloody SUICIDE mission!"

Harry felt Ron stiffen beside him. Below them Bill was saying, "Mum, we can help with this—"

"I DON'T CARE! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT! AND IF ALBUS BLOODY DUMBLEDORE THINKS THIS IS SUCH A GRAND IDEA, WHY HASN'T HE HAD THE DECENCY TO TELL ME FACE-TO-FACE WHERE HE'S PLANNING ON SENDING WHAT'S LEFT OF MY FAMILY—"

Someone began to sob, and the shouting stopped. "Dad! Dad, it's okay, Dad, don't!" Bill was saying.

"Oh!" Now Mrs. Weasley was crying. "Oh, Arthur, I'm so sorry!"

Their voices dropped to a murmured babble for several minutes, and Harry was aware of Ron huddled with his arms around his knees next to Hermione. So he put one arm around Ron and the other around Ginny while they waited for the Order to resume talking.

Eventually, they heard Charlie speaking. "Look, we're prepared to do whatever needs doing. But you lot are going to have to do the thinking right now."

Her voice ragged, Mrs. Weasley said, "Please, Alastor, I can't bear the thought of my boys—"

"Mum!" Bill said sharply. "This is our decision too. At the very least, we're going to need a curse-breaker to help with this, and if it gives us a chance to strike a major blow against those bastards, I'm not being left out!" Next to Harry, Ginny flinched.

Mrs. Weasley sobbed, but Charlie said, "He's right, Mum. They need us. They need us, or this will never end. If we lose this war, then...then...Percy...in vain," he managed to say.

Harry shuddered and felt several of his friends doing the same.

"Listen to me, Molly," Mad-Eye Moody was saying, in a surprisingly gentle voice. "We're planning this carefully. There's risk, yes. Lots of risk. There always is. But it's either take this risk now, for the Order, or let the risk to all our families and friends and children keep growing as those bastards grow stronger. We have the chance to deal them a real blow here. They lost some of their better people in Hogsmeade—I've no doubt they hadn't planned on sacrificing all three Lestranges for this. We have to hit them fast and hard if we're to have any chance of slowing them down."

Mrs. Weasley was crying hard now. "Oh, God, what's going to happen to us all?"

"We're going to make it, Mum," Bill told her. "We're going to get through this."

"Bill's the only one we could really use in action," said an Order member whose voice Harry didn't recognize. "There's bound to be booby traps and the like. We need all our curse-breakers. Charlie could serve just as well in the first aid back at rendevous point."

"Now, wait a minute, you're not making me just sit and wait—"

"Emmeline is right," said Snape's voice. "There is no need to risk multiple members of your family in the front lines of this mission. I have no doubt that you will have plenty to do, Mr. Weasley, once our people begin returning."

Charlie made an irritated noise, but then Tonks spoke. "What about Harry?"

Harry stiffened, startled. "We can't risk Harry on something like this!" gasped Mrs. Weasley.

"But if he has a chance—" Emmeline Vance started, but Snape interrupted her.

"Even if the boy does turn out to be capable of destroying the Dark Lord, to bring him into such a melee as this is likely to be disastrous. The Dark Lord still has too many protectors at present."

"We'll have to keep Harry well away from our plans, then," said Remus. "His Occlumency skills are improving, but we still can't guarantee that anything he knows won't wind up in Voldemort's hands."

There was silence, as though they were waiting for someone to speak, then Sirius did, with a heavy sigh. "I agree, but...Harry won't like it. Not at all. After what happened to Percy, he'll have ideas of going after Voldemort, I have no doubt."

"Not to mention the twins. And wherever Harry tries to go, Ron and Hermione will most likely wind up. Ginny too," said Remus.

"We may not be able to keep the twins out of it," said Charlie.

"The twins could be helpful, but my concern is that whatever they know, they'll feel they have to tell Harry," said Sirius. "If you're determined to keep Harry out of the loop in this—I know, Remus, I know, I agree it's for the best even if I don't like it—then none of them can know."

"So, Black, I assume we may rely upon your discretion—"

"Yes, you have my bloody discretion, Snape, for all the good it does. Let's not fool ourselves; people are going to wind up dead, and whatever problems we have right now with Harry wanting to get into the action will increase tenfold when this mission is over!"

There was silence. And then, "He's right, you know. Each of us had better plan for the worst," said Tonks.

"And it's agreed, then, no word to our younger contingent until it's over," Moody added.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and sniffled, and there were murmurs of agreement. "I'll have a word with Albus, then," said Snape. "You'll all receive assignments within twenty-four hours. And be ready; when it happens, it will happen fast. Know your duties."

"Right," sighed someone. "Let's go, then."

Hermione scurried to her feet and started to urge the others off the stairs, but George caught her arm. Harry looked at the twins, then Ron, then Ginny, and they all reached an unspoken agreement. Hermione bit her lip nervously, then slowly nodded.

So when the door opened, and the Order members came out, Harry, Hermione, and the four younger Weasleys were all sitting on the top of the stairs to meet their teachers and families' startled gazes.

Mouths fell open, and from the back of the group, someone muttered, "Shit."

"I can't hear words like 'suicide mission,' and then pretend I don't know something's happening!" Harry cried after the Order had hauled its various younger members off to their various scoldings.

"You weren't supposed to hear those words at all," Remus was saying firmly.

Sirius was slumped against the wall, looking desolate, as his godson stormed back and forth in the parlor, the windowpanes and other loose objects rattling in the face of his frustration. "Well, I did!" Harry retorted. "You can't do this, Remus, I have to know what's going on!"

"Harry, you CAN'T know!" Remus said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Our ability to succeed depends on secrecy; don't force us to Obliviate you!"

Harry wrenched away. "You wouldn't do that." One look at Remus's face had him looking appealingly to Sirius. "Don't..."

"I'm sorry," Sirius said softly. "We can't tell you anything."

"Harry..." Remus went to put a hand on his shoulder, but Harry stepped away from him, trembling from frustration and hurt. "Listen to me. You have to believe that we're doing the right thing. Trust us!"

"Yeah," Harry snarled bitterly. "And then just sit and wait to find out who comes back dead!"

Sirius came toward him. "Harry, don't go like this..."

"How'm I supposed to go!" Harry demanded, raising his voice to hide his distress. "How am I supposed to feel with you lot keeping me in the dark!"

"It's the only way this can work," Remus said softly. "Harry, listen." He made no further effort to approach him, so Harry threw himself into an armchair, glaring at the floor. "You have to promise us you'll work as hard as you can on Occluding your mind for the next few days."

Harry jammed his teeth into his lower lip as his emotions churned wildly. The fire was hissing furiously as if someone was pouring water into it. "Yeah, I know. Clear my bloody mind while I'm wondering what's going to happen to you."

"Harry," Sirius said, but Harry shook his head.

"Yes, I'll bloody do it!" he snapped. "If only to keep whatever you're doing from being any more a suicide mission than it already is." Sirius winced and looked away. Harry sighed and muttered, "Are you both going to go?" To his horror, his voice sounded rather small and plaintive.

To his further horror, Sirius and Remus both nodded. "You know we'll be careful. We'll do our best."

"You can't leave me like this," he choked out, furious and scared.

"Harry, we're not going to kill ourselves—"

"I can kill him!" Harry exploded, jumping out of his chair. A windowpane cracked. "I can bloody kill him, okay? The prophecy says I can!" They both gaped at him. "You've kept me in hiding long enough. If I don't fight him sooner or later, all this'll be for nothing!"

"No!" Remus stood straight up. "Harry, THAT is far too much a risk, prophecy or no prophecy. You're not ready!"

"Maybe you should let me decide that," Harry retorted.

"I'm sorry," Remus said softly. "Our minds are made up."

Harry took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. "So's mine."

"Harry!"

"You don't want to tell me, fine. I'll Occlude as hard as I can. But I bet I can guess what this mission is about," Harry folded his arms defiantly. "I'm not being left in the dark anymore."

For all his threats and promises to find out what the Order was up to AND find some way of getting involved, Harry felt more scared than resolved after he made his goodbyes to his godfather and the rest of the Order and returned to Hogwarts.

The next forty-eight hours were a blur of raw nerves and frantic watching of every teacher involved with the Order, for some sign of what was about to happen. Hermione and Ron desperately tried to keep him calm, but he was in such a state that by Monday night, he was jumping at shadows and snapping at almost everyone who spoke a word to him.

"Harry, for heaven's sake, will you SIT DOWN?" Hermione cried as Harry stormed back and forth through the common room.

Most of the Gryffindors, still reeling from the deaths in Hogsmeade, didn't linger long after dinner before going to bed, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had the place to themselves.

"Snape sent me a note," Harry muttered distractedly. "No practice tonight. It's going to happen. I have to do something."

"Listen to yourself, mate!" Ron said, jumping up and catching his shoulders. "The last time you got that notion into your head was when we went to the Department of Mysteries."

Harry froze, staring at his best friend in horror, and Hermione sprang to her feet. "Harry, don't be mad at him—it's true! I know it's awful, it's so awful, and we're all so scared, but if you go rushing into a situation without knowing what's going on or without THEM knowing, you could make it worse! Harry, please, PLEASE listen to us!"

Feeling slightly sick to his stomach, Harry let them sit him down on the sofa. Ginny sat in an armchair across from him, watching his face, as Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him, each with a hand on his shoulders. Bastet came to sit in his lap, and Crookshanks at his feet. "I don't know what to do," he mumbled, running a hand over Bastet's smooth black fur absently.

"Then maybe this is a time when all we can do is nothing," said Ginny softly.

He took a shaky breath. "I just...guys, I can't! I can't! I..." he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm the only one who can kill him! If I could just do it, all this will be over!"

"But if you don't kill him, then he'll kill you, and it'll be over for everyone!" Hermione whispered back. "They're right, Harry! We just have to trust them! If you are our best chance of defeating him, then we can't risk you until the time is right! Trust them to know when it is!"

"But if I'm the best chance, how can I use that if no one tells me anything!" he retorted, springing off the sofa again, causing Bastet to leap from his lap with a yowl of protest. "If they don't let me know anything, they're just wanting me to be mindless, a...a weapon! Just what everyone keeps trying to convince me I'm not!"

"Harry," Ginny groaned. "You're taking this too personally!"

"My godfather's out there!" he hissed, rounding on her. "He and Remus are all I have!"

"That's not true!"

"Well...all right, I know, but...they're mine." He dropped back onto the sofa again, and Ron put a hand on his back, patting him awkwardly. "I can't just sit and wait to find out what happens to them!"

His friends all sat silently, and at length, Hermione asked, "What're you going to do?"

"I'm—"

The portrait hole opened. All four of them leapt to their feet. Professor McGonagall was standing there. Harry was sure his heart had stopped for a moment, and Ron and Hermione each grabbed one of his arms. "Professor?" Ginny squeaked.

"Come with me to the Headmaster's office, please," said Professor McGonagall. The four of them exchanged glances, then scrambled for the portrait hole.

No one said a word as they followed Professor McGonagall to the Headmaster's office. The password, Harry noted in the part of his mind that wasn't a haze of near-panic, was bon-bon. When they got into Dumbledore's office, Fawkes was fluttering around as if agitated, and Dumbledore was by the Floo, reading something with Professor Snape.

Harry held his breath. "Oh, dear, this will require—ah, Minerva, right on time! I beg your pardon, Harry, Hermione, and our young Weasleys, but I must attend to an urgent call. I shan't be more than a few minutes," said Dumbledore.

Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and from the look of them, his friends were also trying to come up with something to ask. The headmaster beckoned for Snape to precede him into the green flames, then shot a glance at the four of them again. "Minerva, perhaps you'd ask the house elves to send some tea up? Our students look as though they could use it."

"Professor," Hermione said weakly, clearly trying to muster a protest.

Dumbledore quickly came toward her and put one hand on her shoulder, the other on Harry's. "Please don't worry. I will return momentarily and make some explanations. For now, I must ask you to be calm."

And then he was gone. Tea appeared on his desk, in front of four chairs, and Harry and his friends sat, waiting numbly. Ginny seized her cup and took a sharp gulp, wincing as the tea scalded her mouth. Harry sighed and did the same. It did help a little bit. He slowed down and concentrated on sipping so that he didn't have to think of anything else.

"Do you think it's already happened or it's just now starting?" murmured Ron.

"I'd have thought Snape would go with them, if it had already started," Harry replied.

"Do you think you know what it is?" Ginny asked him quietly.

"I have my ideas," he sighed. "I'm just trying not to think about them too much. If it is happening now, Voldemort might try to find out from me." The tea was loosening the knots in his insides, and he gave his friends a weak smile. "So if my eyes turn red, run."

"Blimey, that's not a joke," muttered Ron, but he gave a half-grin. "All right, there?"

"Mm-hm." Harry drained the last of his tea, then eyed the leaves and grimaced. "Anyone want to try reading them?"

"No, thank you!" Hermione said dryly, and snatched the cup from him, putting it back on the desk. "Has it been a few minutes yet?"

"Dunno," Harry sighed, folding his arms on Dumbledore's desktop and resting his head on them, closing his eyes. Knowing that answers were close, at last, he felt much calmer. He could sense that no matter what, one way or another, tonight would bring answers.

"Harry?"

Remus and Sirius wouldn't die tonight. They wouldn't leave him alone, not now. They knew what it would do to him if he lost them both. They wouldn't leave him.

"Hey! All right, mate?"

He loved them. He couldn't lose them.

They won't leave me.

They...couldn't...

"Oy! You awake?" Ron exclaimed, as Harry slumped on the top of Dumbledore's desk.

Hermione smiled sadly and shook her head. "Leave him, Ron, he's tired. Probably hasn't slept since we got back from Headquarters."

"Good point, but I'd have thought he'd want to stay awake long enough for us to find out about this mission the Order's on," Ron said, with a puzzled frown at their dozing friend.

That made Ginny sit up too, eyeing him. She reached cautiously over and gave Harry a gentle shake. "Hey, Harry. You're falling asleep a bit prematurely, aren't—Harry?" Her eyes traveled from Harry to meet Ron and Hermione's gazes, and the color drained from her face. "What the..."

Hermione shot from her chair so fast that it fell over, as Ron and Ginny began shaking Harry in earnest. "HEY! Wake up, mate! Bloody hell," Ron gasped, as Harry sagged limply into his arms. "Hermione?"

Snatching up Harry's teacup, Hermione sniffed it and ran her fingertip through the dregs, tasting it cautiously. She grabbed a napkin and spat into it. "Sleeping Draught!" Ron and Ginny froze, their eyes immediately falling on their own cups, and Hermione swiftly investigated them. "Just Harry, not us."

"BLOODY HELL!" Ron roared, depositing Harry in Ginny's lap and jumping up. "They set us—they sit HIM up! They knew they couldn't just force him to do whatever the hell they wanted, so they went and drugged him, those bloody—"

"Ron!" Hermione grabbed his arm as he stormed toward the office door. "Whatever the headmaster and the Order have done, obviously they thought it was best—"

Ron yanked his arm away. "So if we decided you weren't fit to know something was going on, and you disagreed, would that give us the right to slip YOU a Sleeping Draught?" Hermione stepped back, her eyes wide with dismay. Ron shook his head. "Either way, I want answers, right bloody now. They have no right to do this to him." He stomped to the office door and pulled.

Nothing happened.

"Uh, Ron," said Ginny, still cradling the unconscious Harry on the floor. "I think they did in fact set us ALL up."

"BUGGER!" Ron yelled, and started kicking the door. "YOU—BLOODY—GREAT—GITS!"

A roar from the fireplace sent them all spinning around, leaping to their feet. Without evening meaning to, they all pulled their wands out. Dumbledore appeared, clambering out to make way for Professor Snape. His eyes rested upon each of the three of them, noting Harry's absence (due to the fact that he was currently unconscious on the floor.) After Snape came Professor Lupin, and after Lupin...

"Sirius," Hermione breathed. "My God, what's going on?"

Sirius didn't answer her, but swiftly came around Dumbledore's desk to kneel next to his sleeping godson. "This way, Sirius," said Dumbledore quietly, and as the three friends watched in shock, Sirius picked Harry up.

They brought Harry into an adjoining room of the office, where four beds had been set up. "Professor," Hermione said, more sharply this time as Sirius and Remus tucked Harry into one.

Dumbledore turned to them. "I'm afraid the four of you will be spending the night here. I will be away, as will Remus and Sirius, and as you know, we could not risk Harry attempting to follow us. Not now."

"So you just went and drugged him," said Ron accusingly.

Sirius made a noise as though his insides were paining him, and Dumbledore sighed sadly. "I fear we had few other options. Time and secrecy are of the essence. Lord Voldemort will be unable to penetrate Harry's mind while he is under this Potion," he nodded to Snape, "and the wait will be far easier for Harry to bear this way." He shook his head and walked to the bedside where Sirius was sitting, peering over his shoulder at the sleeping Harry. "This is merely one of many things for which I shall have to ask his forgiveness."

"You're all going," Hermione whispered as Remus sat down on the other side of the bed, touching Harry's face. "Every one of you, you're...you're attacking the Fortress, aren't you?"

Snape looked sharply at her, but Dumbledore smiled. "As quick as ever, my dear Hermione. Yes. Our side will be greatly strengthened if Lord Voldemort's stronghold falls."

"But what's to stop him from finding another?" Ginny protested.

"I've no doubt he will, but there are very few places in the world, wizarding or Muggle, that possess as much power for the Dark Arts as the Fortress of Shadows. We have been preparing for many months for an attack that might, if done properly, make it uninhabitable to him. If we succeed, he will lose it, as will any future dark wizards," Dumbledore explained.

"No," Hermione whispered, no longer quite looking at him.

Ron and Ginny blinked at her, and Snape said, "Miss Granger, you will find that if you allow your fears to prevent you from taking any actions—"

"Please!" Hermione blurted, focusing on Dumbledore again. "You can't all go!"

Sirius and Remus looked up at her in surprise. "What?"

"You...you don't understand, don't...don't you know what it'll do to him if he lost you?" she cried, turning to them.

Both men flinched, and Snape and Dumbledore exchanged startled glances. "Hermione, I know you're frightened," Dumbledore began, but she shook her head desperately.

"Professor, please, I just...the Fortress of Shadows, it's too strong! Mrs. Weasley's right, it's a suicide mission, I'm sure of it!" Hermione pleaded.

Snape, for a brief moment, looked highly unsettled, then he rallied his forces and said snidely, "Miss Granger, I have always known your penchant for believing you know everything, but the Order has been researching the Fortress and its magic for a very long time, and I find it hard to believe that you can claim to know more than we do about what we are up against."

Hermione started to cry, looking at the sleeping Harry. "I just...I don't know, I'm sorry, I just...I'm sure that if you go, something horrible's going to happen!" Ron ran over and put his arms around her, glaring at Dumbledore and Snape as if blaming them for her distress.

"Hermione," said Remus, rising from the bedside and coming to take her hands. "It will be all right. You have to trust us. Let us do what we need to do."

She wrenched out of Ron's grip and grabbed his arms. "If either you or Sirius dies, it will destroy Harry! He'll never recover, Remus! He can't lose either of you, not now!" With a sob, she buried her face in his chest.

There was a light knock on the door, and Professor McGonagall came in. Her eyes were soft as she took in the scene, but then she looked at the headmaster and said, "Albus, it's time."

Dumbledore sighed. "Thank you, Minerva. I'm sorry, Sirius, Remus, we must be going now."

"No..."

"I'm sorry, Hermione!"

"Professor, you don't understand, one of you won't come back!" she cried.

Snape and Professor McGonagall stared at each other. Dumbledore smiled sadly and shook his head.

"Hermione," Remus firmly detached her from him and handed her over to Ron. "Listen to me. If the worst does happen, we're counting on you to...to...look after him for us. Promise us you will."

Hermione was sobbing, but Ginny stood up and came over next to Ron. She wiped her own eyes and said quietly, "We promise."

"Thanks," said Sirius, not taking his eyes off Harry. It was only when Remus came and put a hand on his shoulder that he allowed himself to be led from the room.

When the door closed behind them, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny knew it would do no good to try and open it.

It was the deepest, most comfortable sleep Harry had had in a long time. He floated in it comfortably for a long time, wandering through dreams, for once, and all troubles left him. He dreamed a lot of flying, often on a broomstick, but sometimes on a flying motorbike, cradled by a big, vaguely familiar form as the wind whooshed around him.

Once his dreams traveled back to that black night full of green light and fear, but then, in the dark that followed the high, cruel laugh, he was aware of something coming after. Light returned, and he was gathered into a pair of strong, sheltering arms that held him until the motorbike whisked him away.

He'd never remembered that before, he thought, strangely lucid in his dreams. Even after the green light and the evil laughter had gone, someone had come for him. Someone who loved him.

You have never been without love, Harry.

"What?"

The dream wasn't quite so nice anymore. He was standing in the darkness on Privet Drive. All the street lights were out for some reason. A very tall form came out of the darkness toward him. An old man with a long, white beard, and a tall hat, and brightly-colored robes.

"Professor Dumbledore? Where am I?"

You're only dreaming, Harry. Don't be afraid.

Harry shrugged and looked around. "I'm not afraid, I just...would rather dream of something other than this."

Dumbledore smiled at him. I know. But I brought you here because there is something I must explain to you. In fact, there are many things I must explain to you. And this will be my last chance.

"Why?" Harry asked, puzzled.

Dumbledore nodded to the front step of Number Four, Privet Drive. Harry could see a bundle on the step, and he cautiously walked closer. The bundle was moving slightly, and when he looked...

"That's me!" he gasped, seeing the top of the small head, and a lightning bolt-shaped cut beneath the fringe of black hair. "This is..."

The night your parents died, Harry, I brought you here. I condemned you to ten long, very unhappy years in a loveless family. Last year, the night your godfather died, I explained to you my purpose. But tonight, I must at last make a confession to you.

"A confession?"

Dumbledore nodded, his twinkling eyes sadder than Harry had ever seen, or could ever imagine. I was wrong. Harry, I made a dreadful mistake that night. More than one, in fact. In my zeal to protect your life, I wounded you and others terribly.

Harry looked at the baby, himself at one year old, on the front step again. "I thought you said it was the only way to keep me alive," he muttered. But he found that he was somewhat gratified by what Dumbledore had said.

Just being on Privet Drive was like a nightmare.

Yes, said Dumbledore as if he'd heard what Harry was thinking. My weakness, Harry, was that I truly believed your aunt and uncle would be capable of loving you in time, or at least caring for you. I miscalculated that dreadfully, so that the only home you ever knew growing up was one where you were scorned and despised. And I sent those who did love you away. I thought I was doing right for you at the time, keeping you safe from fame and fawning. Instead I placed you in a house full of hate.

Harry didn't argue. He sat down on the curb and stared up at the lightening sky. A short time later, he heard the front door open, and Aunt Petunia's scream of surprise, disbelief, and...sheer revulsion. He winced hard.

Dumbledore closed his eyes, and Privet Drive disappeared. Compounding my shame of that night, I made no effort to investigate the particulars of the betrayal that had led to your parents' death. We knew there was a spy among the close friends of Lily and James, and because we believed Sirius Black was their Secret Keeper, once they were lost, there could be no doubt at the time that it was he—or so we thought. And so my negligence took your godfather from you, the one person I might have considered handing you over to, had we not believed he was guilty of your parents' murder.

That hurt. The thought, the barest thought of those first ten years having been with Sirius instead of the Dursleys...Harry turned away. "What do you want me to say?" he muttered.

Nothing, Harry. Merely for you to listen. I have hurt you far too badly to deserve anything from you, but all I have come to do tonight is give you the answers you've been asking for for so long.

Harry sighed, and nodded.

Dumbledore went on. As I'm sure you know by now, I also sent Remus Lupin away. There was no Wolfsbane at the time, even if a werewolf could have adopted a child, which they cannot. But it was I who denied him any part in your early life—and by that same act, denied you of another person who would have shown you love. Remus was broken by the murders of his friends, and it was simple enough to order him out of wizarding Britain and all its painful memories. I sent him to Egypt, and there he stayed and worked until I asked him to return at the beginning of your third year.

Biting his lip, Harry nodded again. It was hard not to wonder how lonely Remus must have been after he'd lost all his friends, and to wonder if Remus had thought of Harry...

Oh, he did, Harry. He did. He never stopped thinking of you. But he feared himself and what he was, feared exposing you to that, and I did nothing to dissuade his fears. That is yet another weight on my soul. Dumbledore sighed, looking terribly old and sad, and went on, Oh, Harry, each time I have tried to protect you, I have hurt you.

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry blurted. "Why now?"

Dumbledore looked at him and smiled. Because this is my last chance.

"Last chance...what are you talking about?"

Harry...there is something else that I have kept from you. I have not told you of another prophecy that is tied very closely to your future, and Voldemort's. But the reason I did not tell you this one is that there is nothing you could do, one way or the other, to affect it. And it would only bring you distress.

Harry nodded. "I understand. What is it?"

It is another given by our own Sybill Trelawney, said Dumbledore, with a rather ironic smile. She said, 'The one who vanquished the last Dark Lord must fall before the one with the power to vanquish the next Dark Lord can rise.' You understand, Harry?

"Uh...no...who was the last Dark Lord?" Harry asked in confusion. "Wasn't it Voldemort in the last war too?"

Yes, of course. You must look back in history before Voldemort. The last Dark Lord to threaten the wizarding world was Grindelwald.

"Grindelwald! But it was you who..." Even in the dream, Harry's heart lurched. "But...but...the prophecy said...fall—you CAN'T!"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. I must, Harry. I have known since before you were born that I would not live to see the end of this war. And that if you were to have any chance of defeating Voldemort, I must perish.

Harry stumbled toward him, one hand futilely outstretched. "Professor...please...no..."

It is prophesized, Harry. We cannot deny what must be, Dumbledore told him.

Harry's throat closed, but he was too frantic, too horrified to notice. "You—can't—die! We—we need you—I need you!"

With a sigh, Dumbledore said, I fear I have already done you more harm than good. That is why I came to you now. Let me finish, my dear boy, there's not much time. Harry bit back more protests. I came for two reasons: to explain the terrible errors I have made, that you might better understand them. I did not come to ask your forgiveness—I have no right to it as yet. Perhaps one day I will deserve it, and you will find it in your heart to give it, but for now, I shall be content to tell you my second reason for coming to you.

It was to say that from that very night that I took you from Hagrid and placed you on the step of your mother's sister's home, I loved you. If you believe nothing else I have ever said to you, my beloved, wounded child, believe that: I have always loved you. And that has only increased my grief as I realized what my blunders have done to you. Even if you someday are able to forgive me, I shall never forgive myself. Even though I loved you, my foolish decisions very nearly damned you.

Harry was shaking. He knew he was dreaming, but his body felt very real, including the shock and despair now coursing through it. "Professor...you...when you wouldn't look at me last year, it wasn't just because no one would tell me anything...I thought...you didn't...care about me anymore..."

Dumbledore raised a hand to his face, and the worn old hand felt strangely, frighteningly real. Harry choked back a sob. I know. You cannot know how many times I nearly declared my feelings and swept you into my arms, how many times I nearly stormed the Dursleys' household and claimed you for my own child. They would have let me take you, I know that. I wish now with all my heart that I had given in and let myself love you as you, my dear boy, deserved to be loved.

But now my time here is over. I merely could not help but take this last chance to tell you all that I should have told you long ago. I should have explained my failures to you, and begged your forgiveness before the scars became too deep and permanent...and I should not have denied you the love of all those who had it to offer you—least of all my own.

"Professor..." Harry gasped.

I am sorry, Harry. I am so sorry. I have no time left. Dumbledore knelt in front of him, taking both of his hands, and kissed him on the forehead, right over his scar. Your heart has saved you more than once from Voldemort, and I believe in the end it will save our world.

I loved you, Harry. Goodbye.

To be continued...

Coming next weekend: Hogwarts, the Order of the Phoenix, and the entire wizarding world are shaken to their core by a second tragedy—you should realize what it is. But for Harry, disaster will come in threes, and in the wake of this second death comes a catastrophe that shatters Harry's world and threatens to break his resolve altogether in Chapter Thirty-Nine: Alone in the Dark!

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