DISCLAIMER: I am not profiting from this story in any way, and only the plot is mine in the first place.

POST DATE: October 17, 2007

CHAPTER 3: Hard Choices and Fighting Friends

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, at this time I must ask for order so that this meeting can begin. First and foremost, I would once again like to thank all of you for taking the time on such short notice to be here, and let me assure you all that said time will not be wasted, as there is some very important information to be put out." As Dumbledore looked out upon the sea of faces that were in turn focused back on him, he noted that two expressions seemed to be warring for dominance amongst the group. Half seemed to be hopeful that last week's meeting would be labeled as some sort of hoax or ruse, while the other half had a more fearful look to them, as though they were preparing for the worse. 'Funny,' he thought, 'I doubt anybody could be prepared for the report Remus has to give.'

Once the room had quieted, Dumbledore spoke once more. "I have called you all here today because we have new details pertaining to the information that was put out at last weeks meeting. Now, as you already know, Remus Lupin was sent to America to investigate any possible truth behind the vision that I had. Well, Mr. Lupin has returned and, sadly, he does indeed have more information for us all. I feel I must warn you all in advance, what you are about to hear is not going to be easy to take, yet I beg you all to remain calm until we have had a chance to discuss our options. Now, if you would all please," he said, motioning to Remus, "hand over your undivided attention to Mr. Lupin so that he may begin."

As Remus stood from his chair at the kitchen table, Dumbledore could not help but notice that he looked, if at all possible, even more tired and care worn than he did just seven days previously. He was pulled from his private reverie however as he saw Remus take one brief glance around the entire room before beginning. "Thank you, Albus. As it was pointed out previously, I have been in the United States for the last six days, and I am afraid that during that time, I have come across the most disturbing news."

At this, he seemed to pause and take a deep, shuttering breath before continuing. "Working with the American magical community, I have come across some information regarding the existence of a so-called 'killer' disease that is spreading like wild-fire within their borders. So far, their government has been successful in keeping this epidemic quiet, simply taking the official stance that it 'does not exist'. This tactic, while effectively keeping their people somewhat calm, has unfortunately led to a severe lack of information for us to go on. We have been able to come across some things, though.

"The disease is actually what muggles call a virus. As an example, think of the flu and the common cold, which are also viruses. It has no official name, although I have heard whispers of the muggles referring to it as 'Captain Tripps'. I am unsure of the reference here. Anyway, it seems to have originated somewhere in the American southwestern region, although there's no telling how it began, nor whom is responsible. So far, it has a 99.9 communicability rate, meaning that just being in the same general vicinity of somebody who is infected is enough to ensure that you will also become sick. I personally have seen no one who is actually afflicted, and cannot therefore determine for sure whether or not we magic users are immune.

"Symptoms of the disease are both tricky and effective. For nearly the entire duration of the sickness, those afflicted show signs almost identical to those of the flu, the only difference being that, whereas people with the flu tend to get better with rest and the use of muggle potions, this disease has so far shown to have a 100 mortality rate, basically meaning those who catch it die, regardless of any precautions they my take." At this, several intakes of breath could be heard. "The disease also works startlingly fast, only taking an average of two days to kill its victims. Oh, yeah, and so far, no cure has surfaced, either. In short, this virus, for lack of a better term, seems to be the perfect killing machine."

At the conclusion of this statement, silence reigned supreme for a few minutes before Amos Diggory was the first find his voice. "Remus, Albus, as troubling as the news of this…Captain Tripps, or whatever, is for the Americans, it seems to be their problem, not ours. I say we let them deal with it!" Gaining steam as he went along, Diggory concluded by pounding his fist on the table. Several grunts of agreement could be heard throughout the crowd.

Sighing and running his fingers through his hair, Remus tiredly responded, "Amos, I'm afraid it's just not that simple. With the advancements in muggle transportation, a muggle can, and almost definitely will have by now, catch the disease and have it inside British borders within a few short hours. From there, it will most assuredly spread throughout every corner of the Isles in a matter of days. What may not be our problem now will most definitely become our problem in the very near future."

Seeing that his point had not been driven home to some, Remus placed both hands on the table and leaned forward, making him appear even grimmer than before. With his tone becoming more agitated by the second, he growled out, "Look, I'm not going to lie to you or sugar coat things here. This…thing, Captain Tripps or whatever it is, is about the most damn scary killer I've ever seen. Just to give you some perspective, between the time I first heard about the disease until just before I left to come here only three days later, over 25 of the entire Southwestern United States populous were showing signs of being infected. That's roughly twenty million people who will be dead within the next two days, and that's just the people we know about! Oh, and the numbers are growing exponentially, by the way. In another three days, over 30 of the total American population will be infected. By the end of the week, you ask? 80. If current projections hold true, and I have absolutely no doubt that they will, by the end of the first week of July, virtually every American will have not only contracted this disease, but they also will have died from it." Slamming his fists into the table, he nearly shouted, "For those who need the math, that's over 230 million souls lost in a span of roughly 3 weeks!"

Suddenly, he adopting a look of disgust on his face before continuing. "Here, I've brought some muggle pictures if you need proof of how terrible all this is." With that, he picked up a small folder from the table, opened it, and threw the contents across the tabletop. What was seen was enough to make the strongest man gasp with fright and disgust, and more than a few retching noises could be heard in the background.

Dumbledore looked away as the pictures were displayed before him, for he had already seen most of them, and wished not to become sick himself. As he heard the gasps and dry heaves, his mind unfortunately found its way to the pale faces and blank stares he had seen earlier. It truly was a gruesome sight, with boils and open sores all over their skin, their exposed flesh so distorted that it seemed almost to be running off their bodies, as though it was liquefying. Indeed, had Remus not convinced him that everyone needed to see this, so that they may get some form of context, he would not have allowed such horrifying images to be shown at all.

Concluding his report, he tiredly added, "We all need to be prepared to witness a lot more of this, and a lot more personally. Assuming Albus' vision was correct, a maximum of maybe, and I do mean maybe, three to four hundred thousand magic users and squibs will be left alive at that time. That leaves over six billion bodies worldwide, by as soon as the end of July." As he concluded, Remus eased himself back into his chair, all his energy seemingly sapped out of his body.

Finally coming to terms with what Remus was saying, Diggory quietly retook his seat, a look of pale shock on his, as well as everyone else's, face.

After what seemed like hours, yet were actually no more than a few minutes, of quiet reflection upon the current situation, Dumbledore rose stoically to his feet. "Well everyone, it appears that our worst nightmare has indeed come to fruition. While none of us would wish for this to happen, it seems we cannot undo what has been set in motion here. It is for this reason," he paused and took a long, hard look around the room, "that we must prepare ourselves so that we may weather this storm. The muggle world will, in short order, become very unstable. The more people die, the more dangerous those who still live will become. We cannot depend upon the magical government to protect us, either, for when the muggle government topples, so will ours, I'm sure, for though they may not be connected in laws, they are still connected financially. When that happens, as sad as it is for me to say, I believe there will be several wizards who wish to…take advantage of the lawless situation. That is why I believe it is up to we few to protect and shield as many of the magical community as we can. It is because of all this that I have decided to go forward with the plan of action discussed at last week's meeting immediately. Please listen closely as I assign to all of you your duties."

As Remus was delivering his report, Harry slowly began to phase his attention away from the meeting. Barely did he notice Ginny's small hand slip into his own, or how her grip tightened continuously throughout the meeting, as she struggled to hold onto her sanity.

'I can't believe this is really happening,' he thought. 'I mean, I knew this was going to happen, but…all these people…'

Before he could slip too far into despair at that thought, however, he was brought back to the present by the sound of someone saying his name. "Er, excuse me? I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said, professor."

"I said, Mr. Potter, that I have a special job that I will need you to perform, one that I wish to speak with you about after the conclusion of this meeting. Will you make yourself available?" questioned Dumbledore. He didn't seem perturbed at all at Harry's dazed and lethargic attitude, most likely because he felt fairly similarly.

"Uh…sure, Professor. We can talk in the sitting room." After finishing, Harry took his seat and listened to the rest of what was said.

"Good. Now, moving on…Molly, I'm going to need you and Ginevra to take over coordination of activities at the castle, as my staff and I will be busy with other pressing matters. Today, everybody living here at headquarters will be moving to the castle, but very soon there after I expect that many more, most likely numbering in the hundreds, wizarding families to be coming along. Your task will be to ensure that not only do families have beds, but that all who come to the castle are accounted for and that a roster of names is kept current and up to date. Are you both up to the task?"

Moving over to stand behind her daughter, Molly took on a look of determination before responding. "Absolutely, Albus. We'll get go get our things together and I'll apparate the two of us to the castle gates so that we can get ourselves and our family moved in and accounted for right away." Placing her hands on Ginny's shoulders, she guided her youngest to stand and directed her out the door and into the hall.

"Now, Minerva, I'll need you to take care to contact those muggleborn children who have not yet come of school age, and therefore do not know of their wizarding heritage. Now, I've given this considerable thought, and I have decided that all parents and siblings should be tested to see if they are squibs. Only if they are squibs are they allowed to come to the castle. You must be honest with these parents, Minerva. Give them the option as to whether they are to send their children…"

A look of surprise on her face, McGonagall interrupted, "Albus! How can I just be expected to leave these children behind? What, so they can watch their parents die? Even still, do you realize how dangerous the world will be for these children once their parents become ill?"

Shaking his head slightly, Dumbledore responded, "Minerva, good friend, I have never been, and shall never be, of the mind to kidnap children from their families." Seeing that she was about to object, he raised his hand and quickly continued. "That is not to say that I have not prepared to help in every possible way. Now, once you leave here, if you look in my office, you will find two boxes. The first box contains several hundred ordinary looking wooden muggle pencils. These are actually illegal portkeys. If parents decide not to let their children go with you, simply leave one of these portkeys, which are activated by using the word 'Hogwarts' and can only be used by those with magical blood, and explain how to use them. I believe that most parents, once they see the reality of their situation, will choose to save their children if they have the option to do so.

"The other box contains several rather mundane looking push-pins. These are actually going to be your best sources of information. Each pin is tied to a page in the notebook that is also in the box. All you have to do is covertly push a pin into a wall anywhere within their house and the pin itself will feed off the magic of the child, feeding an up-to-date set of basic information to its page. This information will only include a basic location of the residence, the number of magical people within the house, along with the number of non-magical people within the house. With this information, we should be able to keep tabs on, and eventually save, those children whose parents are…resistant to us. You will select a detail of five other order members to assist you on this mission. I know that this is not a perfect plan, and that losses are almost imminent, but as I said, wewill not resort to kidnapping children from their parents."

Seeing no objection with his plan, though she still did not care for it, Minerva nodded her assent none the less.

"Arthur, Kingsley and all other ministry employees present, I need you all to continue with work as usual. While I want us to help as many as we can, I fear that if we become too vocal too early, the ministry will attempt to put the clamps on our operation. This could cause problems, and in the end could lower the number of people we are helping. For this reason, I want you to keep up appearances for as long as necessary. Now, while you are there I hope that you will take the opportunity to reach out to all ministry employees that you can and try to make them see reason." Mr. Weasley and the aurers nodded to their understanding.

"Now, as for the rest of you, you will be responsible for speaking with magical families, as well as non-magical parents of Hogwarts students, and trying to convince them to move to the school grounds. I must ask that you please be as vague as possible as to the circumstances of your request, although I am sure that they will become fairly public knowledge soon enough. In the end, your job comes down to trying to convince families that they are in danger, which will no doubt be difficult as both the ministry as well as the muggle government I'm sure will attempt to suppress any information regarding this danger for as long as possible. You all will be using the portkeys and pushpins as well."

Suddenly, and with such force that Harry was nearly surprised out of his chair, Ron leapt to his feet before near shouting, "I'm going to Hermione's house!"

Knowing that Mrs. Weasley might not care for Ron going out into muggle territory, Mr. Weasley quietly said, "Son, I know you want to help but…"

"No Dad! This is something I have to do, and neither you nor Mum is going to stop me. Somebody has to make Hermione come to a safe area, and that somebody is going to be me. Harry, back me up here. You of all people know I'm right!"

Seeing the look of shock on Mr. Weasley's face at having been talked to in such a way by his youngest son, Harry knew what he had to do, yet was resistant to do so. Doing what he felt was right meant endangering a friendship that had not only been in existence for five years and was now more of a brotherhood type relationship by now, yet sending a emotionally hyped up Ron out into muggle London to try to force Hermione (and Harry knew without a doubt that Ron would try to force her, against her will and becoming physical if necessary) into leaving her parents would almost certainly end in tragedy.

Deciding to air on the side of caution, Harry muttered, "Um, Ron, I don't think my opinion is the best one here…"

Ron was about to respond when he suddenly stopped. Looking at him, Harry could tell that something had "clicked" inside his head. Slowly, Ron's expression changed to one of incredulity, and finally he said, "No, no, Harry, I think we all want to hear what you have to say." Finishing his statement, he crossed his arms defensively and stood awaiting Harry's response.

Realizing that he had been made, Harry decided to get this over with quickly. "It's just that, well, you're really…emotional right now, Ron, and you know how you and Hermione are when you get emotional. If you go over there with a head of steam and try to make her do anything, all that's gonna happen is you'll get hurt, and she won't come to the castle now, if at all. Ron, don't you see? Your intentions are great, but all you'll do is push her away!"

Ron stood perfectly still for what seemed an eternity. The room had become silent, waiting for his reaction. Finally, he dropped his hands to his sides and began pacing back and forth in front of the sink. Finally, he turned his gaze to Harry. "You know what? I'm sick and tired of what I want not mattering as much as what you want. You know, two weeks ago, you get a sudden vision that your Godfather is in danger, and we all followed you Harry, without hesitation."

Harry could feel his blood boiling at this point. "How dare you!! I…"

"No Harry, how dare you! YOU KNOW HOW BLOODY IMPORTANT THIS IS TO ME, YOU BASTARD, BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER TO YOU, DOES IT? THE ONLY THING YOU CARE ABOUT IS…YOU!!" yelled Ron.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Weasley! Now is not the time for this!" said Dumbledore, in a quiet yet stern tone of voice. Once both boys were looking in his direction, he continued. "Mr. Weasley, while your…enthusiasm is appreciated, I think that Mr. Potter is correct in this regard. I am going to ask you, and I hope that you will agree, to take part in Minerva's detail."

Looking from Dumbledore to his father, Ron seemed to realize that he was defeated, for he finally turned a glowering look at Harry before muttering, "Well, once again I see that Harry gets what he wants while I'm left standing on the sidelines. Must be bloody nice to be so important, huh Harry?" Not waiting to hear Harry's response, he turned on the spot and stomped out of the kitchen.

After Ron's departure, Dumbledore continued his instructions to those remaining in the room, before sending them on their way. Harry had stopped listening, as he was stewing in his own anger and self loathing. Part of him was angry, but at the same time, another part of him knew that Ron was right. If he loved Hermione the way he knew Ron did, nobody would stop him from going to her. After a few more minutes of pondering all he was feeling, he noticed that he and Dumbledore were finally the last two still in the room.

Turning a sympathetic smile to the young man before him, Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Things seem bleak now, my young man, but never fear. I'm sure the two of you will see through your differences soon enough."

Looking incredulously at his mentor, Harry said, "How can you be so sure? I mean, I don't know how he can forgive me, when even I don't fully forgive me. I mean, I can't help but wonder if he's right, sir. What if our roles were reversed, would I be able to accept what everyone else was saying, even if I knew they were right? I don't know, sir, I just don't know."

"Harry, I must say that I am very proud of you for what you did. Though you knew it would be hard, you did what you thought was right, and those you lead could ask nothing more of you. I think you will be surprised by Mr. Weasley. Even if he does not agree with your decision, I believe he will still follow it, simply because deep down, whether he even admits it or not, he knows you are thinking of both his and Miss Granger's best interests."

Feeling the need to change the subject, Harry turned his eyes to the floor then asked, "Professor, you said that you had a special task for me?"

Smiling knowingly, Dumbledore removed his hand from Harry's shoulder, walked around the table, and took the seat across from him. "Yes, Harry, I have a very specific task for you. Now, I know that you will not initially take to what I am going to ask you to do, but I must insist that you bear with me. I know that, with the passing of Sirius and with his will having been executed, that you were his primary beneficiary. This, combined with the monetary resources you already possessed, have made you a very rich young man."

Interrupting, Harry question, "Sir, while you're right, I can't see how any of that matters now. Pretty soon, money's not gonna mean very much, is it?"

"Harry that is precisely my point. While gold will not be very important soon, it still is now. We are going to be taking care of hundreds of people for an undetermined amount of time very soon, and we are going to need supplies to do so. I must ask you to use your considerable fortune to take care of this problem for me. Not only that, but I must also ask that this be done as discretely as possible. Now, not only will we need food, but we will also need writing supplies, brooms, potions supplies, etc. Essentially, we will need you to discretely purchase as much as you can from Diagon Alley without raising too many eyebrows in the process."

"Let me see if I get this straight, sir. Of all the possible tasks I could be performing, of everything that needs to be done, you want me to be your supply clerk?!?!" It was obvious to Harry that he was being kept out of the way of things. "Why, sir? I mean, first you ask me to lead, then you turn around and shove me out of the way?"

"Nobody is being shoved out of the way, Mr. Potter, in fact, quite the opposite. This is a very important task I am asking of you, possibly one of the most important tasks."

Feeling as though a light bulb just lit up above his head, Harry spat back, "This is about the prophecy, isn't it? You don't want to send me out into and dangerous situations because you think I'll be killed before I fulfill my bloody destiny!"

Seeing the boy's frustration, Dumbledore smiled and calmly replied, "Once again, Mr. Potter, I ask that you bear with me and see that I am asking a very important task of you. We will all be counting on you to succeed in this; in fact, everyone's survival will depend on it. You can take that ask you may, yet I must still insist that you take on this task. Here is a list of everything that will be needed, along with a group of contacts that will help you buy the products you need in bulk without making any noise."

Understanding that he was no longer being asked, Harry begrudgingly took the list and stood from his chair. As he reached the door, Dumbledore addressed him one last time. "Harry, please remember that leading people does not just mean telling them what to do, but also means making hard decisions on their behalf that you know will not be popular, and following through with them if they are necessary."

Letting what Dumbledore said sink in, Harry turned and exited the room without further comment.

Walking down the hall to the sitting room, Harry's mind was conflicted. He now felt all too well what was going through Ron's mind, as both were seemingly being pushed out of the way. His mind lost its train of thought, however, as he walked through the sitting room door and was immediately greeted by a rather large fist connecting with his left eye, knocking him to the floor.

Standing over his fallen friend, Ron shook his hand a couple times before looking into his open eye menacingly and stating flatly, "I'll work with you, because I understand that everything that's going on is bigger than us. Understand, though, that you and me, we're done. I don't want to see you, or even know that you exist outside of anything work related." He turned slightly, as if to leave, before turning back and saying one more thing. "What hurts the most, ya know, is that if our roles were reversed, not only would I have backed you up in there, but I would have helped you out afterwards, and you know it." With that, he turned and walked up the stairs.

After taking a few moments to collect his thoughts, Harry finally rose and climbed the stairs himself, gingerly testing the tenderness of his eye. 'Gonna be quite the shiner,' he thought as he made his way down the corridor towards Ron's room. As he reached the door, he looked down and saw all his clothes and few possessions piled at his feet, and realization of what this meant finally dawned on him.

'Well, guess I've really screwed things up this time,' he thought to himself before he bent down and collected his things.

Two days earlier and thousands of miles away, Sarah Templeton was sitting in a bar near the Los Angeles International Airport. It was still early in the afternoon, so she was basically alone in the dark room, but she was alright with that. There were still two hours 'til her flight, and spending them here is as good as spending them anywhere else.

Besides, she was celebrating, and by God, celebrating demanded alcohol. She had just closed a deal that would move her company into the top three in her field, single-handedly no less. Sure, she had always been known for her ability to make a great presentation, but this success has even the BIG bosses noticing. 'Maybe this will finally earn me that VP position I've only deserved for the last…oh, I don't know…three years!' she thought bitterly.

As she drained her third whiskey sour (not the most lady-like drink, she knew, but hell, in the business world there's no time for lady-like anyway) and was about to ask for another, her attention was diverted to the door as it was opened, brightening the room with the sunshine outside. Watching with a critical eye, she saw a rather tall, lean man, maybe as much as two meters, wearing a fairly sharp business suit. 'Not a bad lookin' bloke,' she thought. 'Too bad I got a flight to catch, or I might just have to get to know him better.

Seeing him look in her direction, she gave a small smile that she hoped would be invitation enough to come take up the seat beside her. 'Even if I can't shag him, it wouldn't hurt to have somebody to talk to,' she thought.

Looking her over, he saw a rather pretty young woman who had obviously had enough to drink to already have her loosened up. Taking her rather obvious invitation, the man sauntered over casually, smiling his most confident smile before tapping her lightly on the shoulder. As she turned, he drawled out in his thickest, most over-exaggerated accent, "Howdy, ma'am. Min' if I pull up a seat at the trough nex' t'ya?"

Smiling coyly, she remarked back, "Well, it doesn't bother me, but you'll have to make sure it's alright with everybody else."

Looking around the empty room, he turned back and chuckled a little before sitting down. "So, your accent…British?"

"Born and raised. South Wales, actually. What about you, could you be from anywhereother than Texas?" She drawled out the last word in a terribly false accent.

"Sure thing, ma'am. Still live there, actually. Only in town for the day. Got me a flight outta here an' back ta Dallas in a couple hours. Name's Tony, by the way. Tony Ivey." He stuck out his hand and shook hers, then turned to the bartender and ordered a double whiskey, straight up.

"I'm actually waiting for a flight myself. Direct to London for me. Right now, I'm celebrating a very successful business proposition. Oh, and I'm Sarah, Sarah Templeton."

"Well, Miss Templeton, it's a pleasure ta meet ya, although I'm sorry ta hear that we'll be spendin' so little time together." Moving his hand to her knee rather forwardly, he then said, "I guess we'll just have ta make the most of the time we got, huh?"

Any other time, and Sarah would have been totally turned off by such forwardness, but hell, she was half way to loaded and still feeling great from her business success. 'Fuck it,' she thought, and moved her hand to cover his own. "I guess so."

Suddenly, he jerked his hand away from hers and reached it into the breast pocket of his jacket, retrieving a monogrammed handkerchief and quickly raising it to cover his face, which he turned from hers before sneezing three times in succession. "Sorry for that Miss," he said. "Looks like I mighta caught me a bit of a cold. Excuse me," and he quickly made his way to the men's room.

After freshening himself up and popping a couple cold tablets he found in his briefcase, he walked back to the bar, where he was happy to see that a smiling Sarah Templeton was waiting for him.

"Get everything taken care of?" she asked, in a slightly mocking tone.

"All set. Hope my sneezin' fit hasn't turned ya off too much," he said, replacing his hand on her knee.

Taking his hand in her own once more, she looked deep into his eyes before saying, "Oh, don't worry about me, I've got a very high constitution. Now, I've got," she took a look at her watch, "an hour and forty-five minutes before I absolutely have to be at the airport. Got any ideas how I can spend my time?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes lightly.

"Oh, I can think of a thing or three," he said playfully, then pulled her into a long, deep kiss.

Both felt rather pleased at their good fortune at having found each other, and rather hot at the prospect of what was to come. Little did either of them know that this would be their last sexual encounter, as both would be dead in shortly over two days. Sarah also would never know that she would have the distinction of being the first to bring home the deadly disease that would eventually kill almost all of her countrymen.

A/N: Well, finally, right? Sorry, but this chapter was really hard to write. I mean, I've had an idea of what I wanted to put here, but I just didn't know how I wanted to word it. Hope you all like it, and I hope that part at the end wasn't too bad. I just wanted to make the disease a little more…personal, remind everyone of you readers that it's coming, ya know? Anyways, give me a review, tell me if you like it or not. The distinction of being this story's very first review is still up for grabs!

Cheers!!