Author's Note: Well, here's chapter two... Not too many people read chapter one, and I got no reviews for it either. I know this story is new. but I really would like people to read and review it. I love critiques, and I'd most likely respond to them. I also understand that many people won't want to read this because it's an AU Book 7 fic, but please know that this will get VERY different from Deathly Hallows in many ways that I don't think Jo would've done it. Hopefully this doesn't sound like I'm bragging...Oh well. I do plan on finishing this story as well, unlike many of the others on this site.

Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me.

Onward!

All For You

Chapter Two: Almost There

About two months later, miles and miles away, in the smallest bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive, a sixteen year old boy was enjoying a rare good night's sleep in his bed. The thin layers of covers were wrapped tightly around him, and through the light morning rays of sun poking through the blinds on his window, the only thing you would be able to see would be the mess of jet-black hair, for his face was hidden deep in the pillows. Overall, Harry Potter looked rather peaceful, which was quite the opposite of when he was awake. When he was having a peaceful sleep, he had no Dark Lord to fight. He didn't have to worry about the war that he had no idea what the outcome would be. If Harry could sleep like this every night, he would.

But that couldn't happen.

Slowly but surely, Harry Potter stirred. He turned, facing the ceiling, his tired green eyes open. He looked at the clock, which read eight twenty-nine. Deciding that he was well rested, he got out of bed, throwing the covers back. Walking over to the window, Harry stretched, and then put his round glasses on. With his vision coming into focus, he pulled the blinds up, and surveyed the cookie-cutter neighborhood.

Everything looked normal...if normality was something that really existed. He guessed, for a neighborhood of all-the-same, ignorant muggles like the one he had lived in for nearly sixteen years, the scene before him was ordinary. Number Six was mowing his already perfect, green lawn. Number Five was watering his. A mailman was delivering the daily post. Harry wished his life was as simple. Too bad it wasn't. As the reality of his life came back to him, Harry frowned, and then looked at the calendar on the wall. July thirtieth. At midnight, he would be seventeen. At midnight, he could do magic legally. At midnight, he would have to shed his childhood forever and begin the quest to end what Lord Voldemort had started eighteen years ago. And he would have to do it alone.

Well...not alone. He would have his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger at his side, like they had practically begged from him, but there were some things...some things he really would have to do alone. Things like killing the most powerful dark wizard in history. Harry promised himself that he would not, under any circumstance, put Ron of Hermione in any danger while they went on their search, but, as the memories of the last time he went searching for a Horcrux came rushing back to him, he felt slightly hesitant.

Then, unwillingly, the image of Albus Dumbledore getting blasted off the Astronomy Tower was played over in his mind.

It was still incredibly hard to imagine that Dumbledore was gone. Dead. Dead. Dumbledore. The greatest wizard alive had fallen because of his insane trust of a man who bore the mark of the enemy. A man who Harry himself had hated and never trusted a second. True, Severus Snape had had his moments where Harry was glad he existed, but now...? After Dumbledore had pleaded with him? After Dumbledore had nearly killed himself over nothing? While he was weakened and unarmed? Snape was nothing but a murderer; a cold and heartless murderer. And other than Voldemort, Harry had never felt that someone deserved to die more than him.

Shaking the hateful thoughts off, Harry got dressed and went downstairs. Based on the thunderous snores coming from the room next door, Harry's cousin, Dudley, was still asleep. Skipping the last few steps on the stairs, he walked into the kitchen.

As always, he would walk into the kitchen at the same time each morning during the summer holidays. He would see his large Uncle Vernon, hiding behind that morning's Daily Mail, and his horsey, thin-faced Aunt Petunia would be scraping eggs on a skillet on the stove. Then, she would look up, a look of disgust on her face, and bark in her sharp voice, "Why are you always up so early? It's not normal for people your age to be up this early? Dudley doesn't even get up until noon..."

He, like always, said nothing. He sat down in his chair without another glance at his aunt. Without another word, she slapped a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Wondering why on earth someone would want oatmeal when it was nearly one hundred degrees outside, Harry ate it nonetheless. He gave an ever-so-slight glance at his uncle, before he nearly dropped his spoon in shock.

The front-page headline read:

Ministry Assures Public Safety After Prime Minister's Assassination Attempt

"Er...Uncle Vernon?"

His uncle grunted in response, not looking up from his newspaper.

"May I...um...look at that for a second?"

This caused his uncle to look up from the paper, his bushy eyebrow raised.

"And why would you want to look at our news, boy?"

"Uh...well...that headline...it just seems...odd. I promise, it'll only be for a second..."

His uncle considered Harry for a moment.

"Fine," he grunted. He took the front page from the rest, handed it to Harry, then continued to read the section on stocks, muttering as he did so, "...just skyrocketing, those are..."

Harry looked at the article:

...Many citizens have been questioning the safety of the country for the past year. This weekend's assassination attempt has only strengthened their queries. In a statement released by assistant to the Prime Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, "...We have been doing our part to ensure the safety of the citizens around us. We have caught the culprit behind the plot for the Prime Minister's life, and is in police custody as we speak, awaiting trial. As the Minister himself has said, we must not dwell on the past, but plan for a safer future..." Meanwhile, the secretary of defense has claimed that the assassination attempt was a "random act, and will not occur again."

The rest of the article was continued on another page. Harry looked at the picture associated with the article. He could see the Prime Minister, his face pale, sitting next to a composed-looking Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry knew, although the rest of the muggle public did not, that Kingsley was a wizard, sent to ensure the safety of the Prime Minister by the Ministry of Magic. Something else caught Harry's eye:

Strange Celestial Design Spotted in Night Sky

In the recent weeks, we have received many reports of supposed "Alien Signals" in the night sky. We now have visual evidence of this strange occurrence.

"It looks so ominous..." says Patricia Overmouth, who lives in a small, rural town. She provided us with the picture shown above. This only brings up the question: what exactly is it?

Different people have different views. Many religious activists proclaim this as "Satan's Warning" or the "Mark of the Devil Himself!" but others, like paranormal investigator Phillip Westin, think otherwise.

"It's obviously the pure, hard evidence to the truth that I have been trying to tell all you for years...that extraterrestrial life is among us! We are not alone!"

So, whatever this is, whether the evidence of future biblical war, aliens, or just some funky fireworks, this is a certainly an occurrence of cosmic proportions.

This seemed to disturb Harry even more, for, above the short article was a black-and-white picture of the clear night sky, pierced with the image of a colossal skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. The Dark Mark. The muggles...of course, how could they possibly know the horror of what the Dark Mark meant...

"What's up with you...?" came a voice he recognized, but didn't hear his entrance. His cousin, Dudley had joined them at the table. The diet that the Smelting's school nurse had administered his cousin back in Harry's fourth year, along with some intense physical activity, had done good for Dudley. His fat had turned into muscle, and his large blond head seemed less enormous on his now-slimmer neck.

"Oh, what?" asked Harry. Never before had he heard such a tone from his cousin. Not a note of bitterness, resentment, or even folly was in his cousin's voice.

"You just look....er...never mind."

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Harry put a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth. It tasted bland, but it didn't matter. The thought of going back to the Burrow the next day seemed to bring a whole new light to the situation he was in. Ron's brother, Bill, would be getting married next week. Even though he had been savaged by a werewolf the previous June, like his fiancé, Fleur, had said, "Ze show must go on."

The thought of seeing the family who might as well be his family warmed Harry's heart. But then came Ginny. The warm feeling was extinguished with a vengeance. He still felt terrible—no, it ripped Harry apart when he had to end his relationship with the youngest Weasley. He missed everything about her. Her flaming red hair he used to stroke, her big, beautiful brown eyes, her soft skin, her flowery scent, the soft lips he would give anything to press his against...

A long, lingering sigh escaped his lips as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

Uncle Vernon didn't look up. Aunt Petunia didn't look up from her magazine. Dudley looked at him for a moment, and then looked back at his bowl. Harry decided to make his statement more detailed.

"Forever."

This caused a response from all three Dursleys. They all looked at him, Uncle Vernon raised his eyebrows, and a look he had never seen appeared on his uncle's face. Aunt Petunia looked slightly worried. Dudley looked...sad?

"Who's taking you?" said Uncle Vernon.

"Mr. Weasley, you know; Ron's dad....um...You've met him before..." replied Harry uncomfortably. Indeed, the Dursleys did know the Weasleys, for the last time they had seen them, which was three years previously (though it seemed longer to Harry), Dudley had ended up having his tongue over magically charmed to a length of over three feet long.

"So then...where will you go?" asked Aunt Petunia in a quiet, small voice.

"Well," said Harry. "I plan on staying at the Burrow...that's Ron's house, for a while, then...well..." he trailed off. He had not thought of where he, Ron, and Hermione would stay while on their Horcrux hunt.

"I'll go off to Hog—my school," he lied flatly. Although he seriously doubted it, he didn't want the Dursleys to worry about him.

"And then what?" asked his aunt in the same tone she had used before.

"I really don't know...." said Harry. He didn't like to think about his post-Voldemort future. He wasn't even sure if he would have one.

While Aunt Petunia looked slightly solemn, her husband, on the other hand, looked overjoyed.

"What time?" he asked joyfully.

"I think eleven," said Harry.

"Jolly good then! Jolly good!" and with that, Uncle Vernon kissed his wife, grabbed his briefcase, and left the house, whistling ecstatically.

Aunt Petunia had not changed her position. Neither had her son.

"Erm..." muttered Harry."I guess I'll go pack then..."

He got up to leave the table.

"W-wait!" came an almost unrecognizable voice.

Almost at the stairs, Harry spun around at Aunt Petunia's proclamation. Never before, in almost sixteen years, had he seen his Aunt look at him in the way she was doing now. There was no crease between her eyebrows, not snobbish look on her face, and not a note of dislike in her voice.

Harry rose an eyebrow.

"I...I got a letter last month..." whimpered Aunt Petunia when she was a foot away from him. "From those Order people."

He inwardly winced. He had an idea of where she would take this.

"I head about that man that came here last summer...The one who dropped you off when you were a baby..." she continued.

So they had reached the topic that Harry hated to discuss, the one that made his blood boil and his eyes water up.

"So...he...He's really dead, then?"

Not meeting his aunt's gaze, Harry nodded.

"What'll happen now?" she asked.

He shrugged, not meeting his aunt's eyes.

"And you—you're not safe now...Are you? That man....The one that killed her…He wants to kill you too, right?"

Again, Harry nodded. Aunt Petunia looked like she wanted to say something to her nephew, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

"Look," he finally said, "Don't worry about me. I've got a plan. Voldemort...Well, he might not be around much longer...Not if I can help it, anyway."
His aunt looked confused after that statement. She then looked at him again.

"I just...Don't want you to—to end up like them," she muttered.

Harry ran his hand through his hair.

"I try not to. I really do."

A little while later, Harry was laying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. So, Aunt Petunia really did care about him...in a way. It was one of those things in his life that seemed to shock him in a very stoic way. It surprised him, he didn't expect it, but it couldn't make up for the years and years of dislike she had shown him. At some times, he wondered if the Dursleys pitied him. Harry could understand why; in their opinion, his life was one lonely heartbreak after another. But in his mind, he always pitied them for their lack of compassion. Harry had never understood the source of the hatred for their nephew, despite a family tiff. As a child, he had always wanted love. He wanted someone, someone who could say that they cared about him. It was one of the things he was grateful for when it actually came to him.

He still couldn't believe it. In fifteen hours, he would be seventeen. He thought back to the day he found out he was a wizard, and how young he had been then. How amazed he was at the world he was entering for the first time, the world he belonged in. How happy he was at the prospect of leaving Number Four, Privet Drive after ten years, of having friends for the first time in his life, friends who would remain loyal to him six years later. He had been so young, so innocent....

But even then, Harry had known the dangers of the wizarding world. He had learned about Lord Voldemort, who had killed his parents, as well as many other people. He had learned of people who had died for the cause of having him destroyed, and people who would die so he wouldn't. He had watched people perish before his very eyes; people, who didn't deserve to die. He had watched an innocent man fall to an injustice, and a guilty one walk free. He had watched an innocent boy die because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had watched his mentor, his role model, the greatest wizard ever to have lived die due to a deep betrayal.

Oh, how the world had changed.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry began to pack everything he owned in his trunk. He threw unused items away, cleaned out the loose floorboard, and trashed clothes that were far too small for him. He looked at his owl, Hedwig, who had been the only one who had witnessed the times of his time with the Dursleys since he had discovered his true life. The moment seemed very anti-climatic to Harry, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of anxiety and dread rising in his chest.

Was he sad of leaving? That was simple; no. He hated living at the Dursleys' since he was old enough to register that he was living with people who had loathed him from the start. He had felt nothing but excitement at the prospect of leaving his Aunt and Uncle's house each year, desperate to escape the family who had shown nothing but dislike for sixteen years.

Then, as plain as day, it hit him; he was scared. Why though? He had faced Voldemort time and time again and had not been killed yet. But then again, he had always thrown himself, face forward, into every fight. He was impulsive, and he accepted that. He wasn't scared of dying, no. But he was scared of dying before he completed his task. He was scared of people living in a world with no hope, no savior, not saving grace. The second reason was probably the one thing was inevitable, if not just for him, but for everyone. That inevitability was that, in the end, people could die. People would die. People Harry cared about would die. Despite all his work, despite all his attempts to keep everyone safe, some of it would be in vain. He thought of Ginny and shuddered. He couldn't lose her. He wouldn't lose her. He'd die before he'd let that happen. But then, one thought came to him; what if one of them did die? What if he died without letting her know just how much he cared for her? Ginny, who had fought with them at the Department of Mysteries. Ginny, who had fought just months ago at the battle at Hogwarts. Ginny, who had once been lying cold, pale, and unmoving on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets.

No, thought Harry, shaking his head. That was long ago. Ginny was stronger than that. The Ginny he knew now was not the same as the small girl who had been lured into the Chamber of Secrets by Tom Riddle. But still, that image haunted him. He would not let that happen to her. He simply wouldn't.

That image of Ginny seemed to stay with Harry for the rest of the day. When Uncle Vernon returned later that day, he was in a mood that was even happier than that of the morning.

"And, my dear boy, it's all thanks to you!" he chorused during dinner.

Harry returned to his room a little later, utterly bemused. He took one last glance at his room, which had his trunk, his Firebolt, and Hedwig's cage on one wall and a trash can filled to the brim on another, some old clothes and useless books stack next to it. Feeling somewhat satisfied with himself for once, he went to bed.

Then, in his solitude, the image of Ginny on the cold, wet floor of the Chamber of Secrets came into Harry's mind. She looked...older, though, like Ginny now. Her long, lank red hair oddly stuck out against her deathly pale skin. Harry felt fear and horror rise in the pit of his stomach. He heard a cold, high-pitched laugh behind him. And there was Lord Voldemort, in all his evil, snake-like glory.

"You couldn't save her, Harry..." he whispered, a mirthless smile appearing on his thin lips. "You can't save anyone. Nobody is safe from Lord Voldemort. Will you keep letting people die for you? It could be so simple to let it all go, you know. Who shall I kill next? The Mudblood?"

"No!" screamed Harry, but all that came out was a raspy moan. He wanted to run to Ginny's side, to comfort her, but he couldn't.

Voldemort laughed again. A flash of green light obscured his vision.

And then he woke up with a start, sitting up, his face sweating profusely. Breathing heavily, he ran a hand through his drenched hair and realized that it was just a dream. Just a dream. Ginny was alive, and at least somewhat well. Harry looked at the clock.

Eleven fifty-four.

He got up and quietly went to the bathroom across the hall from his room. He could hear both Dudley and Uncle Vernon's snores from the other rooms. Once in the bathroom, he went to the sink. Harry plugged the basin and ran cold water to the brim. Closing his eyes and holding his breath, he thrust his face into the water and left it there for a few moments. He brought his face up, gasping for breath. Looking up, Harry could see his pale, blurry visage reflected in the mirror. He blindly grabbed a towel and buried his face in it. He exited and walked back to his room. Once inside, he sat on his bed, his face in his hands. That dream was so real. He didn't want Ginny to suffer that fate. He was faced with two options: either cut things off with Ginny until the war ended, or enjoy what very well could be his last months alive with her...either put Ginny at risk or--

His thoughts were interrupted when a miraculously loud BANG erupted from outside. He could hear shouts. His heart stopped when he looked at his clock; midnight. Harry Potter was now seventeen, and the Death Eaters had decided to be the first ones to wish him a happy birthday.

Author's Note: There. Hopefully it's not choppy or cheesy sounding. Or rushed, for that matter. I'd like to see what you think, so please, please review! Chapter three's already written, and I'm about to go back over it and do some editing, so expect it probably either at the end of this week or early next.

PS: Wasn't the Half-Blood Prince movie rockin'?