Hey guys! Important: I just want to let you know that I am going on vacation for all of next week, so I am afraid I won't be able to post. I just will be away from my computer for a little while, but after I will continue on like normal. Sorry! Anyway, I really hope you like this chapter! It was my favorite one to write! Things are going to start picking up after this! Please review and let me know!

A tension seemed to fill the air around them as Dumbledore looked hard into Harry's eye for a moment. Harry looked back, his eyes powerful, showing Dumbledore that he was not afraid of what the prophecy might say.

After another minute, Dumbledore stood and walked over to a tall wooden cabinet. When he opened one of the doors, a faint blue glow emulated out of its depths.

He picked something up and closed the cabinet behind him. Harry could not see what he held until he placed it on the table in front of him.

It was a shallow stone basin with interact runes around the edges. Harry recognized it as a Pensive.

Harry watched as Dumbledore brought his wand to his temple and, very delicately, pulled out a silvery, gossamer trail of thought. He deposited the thoughts into the Pensive and sat back down behind his desk once more.

He watched as they swirled and drifted inside of the Pensive for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he raised his wand and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.

A figure rose out of it, draped in shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size behind her glasses, and she revolved slowly, her feet in the basin. But when she spoke, it was in a harsh, hoarse tone which completely contradicted her figure.

"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 HAND 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."

The slowly revolving woman sank back into the silver mass below and vanished. The silence felt almost tangible. Neither Dumbledore nor Harry made a sound, and even Fawkes had fallen silent.

"Dumbledore—" Harry started quietly because Dumbledore was still gazing into the Pensive as though deep in thought. However, he glanced up when Harry spoke.

"What did that mean exactly?"

"It meant," Dumbledore started with a sigh. "It meant that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born nearly eighteen years ago at the end of July. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times."

Harry felt as though his insides were being squished by this new information. He hardly dared to breathe.

"It was talking about me?" He asked slowly.

It had never mentioned a name. Maybe the prophecy was not about him after all? Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment through his glasses.

"The odd thing is, Harry," he said softly, "it may not have meant you at all. The prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was a boy named Neville Longbottom."

"But then, it could not be talking about me. It could be about the Longbottom boy instead."

"I am sorry to say that it is most definitely about you, though at one point, it could have gone either way." Dumbledore explained. "You see, you are forgetting the part about Voldemort marking the boy as his equal. By choosing to kill your parents and raise you, he chose you as the bigger threat to his cause. He marked you as his equal."

"But he might have chosen wrong!" Harry said. "He might have gone after the wrong person!"

"He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him," said Dumbledore. "And notice this, Harry. He chose not the pureblood, which, according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing, but the half-blood, like himself—"

"What do you mean like himself?" Harry asked quickly. "Surely, his blood is pure?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "I am afraid that, despite his outward prejudices, Voldemort is, in fact, just a half blood."

Harry was stunned for a moment as Dumbledore continued.

"He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and he did not kill you that night as he intended. Instead, it took you in and gave you powers and a future. He made a grave misjudgment when he thought he could raise you to be his soldier. You are, and have always been destined to be, his greatest enemy."

"Why did he do it, then?" Harry asked, his body feeling numb. "Why would he go after me? Why wouldn't he wait to see which one of us grew up to be more powerful and then try and either kill us or turn us over to his side?"

"That might, indeed, have been the more practical course," said Dumbledore, "except Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head Inn, which the lady you saw chose for its cheapness, has long attracted an— interesting clientele. It is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard.

"Of course, I had not dreamed when I set out to meet her, I would hear anything worth overhearing. My— our one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building."

"So he only heard…?"

"He heard only the first part, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you or to give you power in any way would be to mark you as his equal.

"So Voldemort never knew there might be danger in attacking or raising you or that it might be wise to wait or to learn more about the boys in question. He did not know you would have 'power The Dark Lord knows not.'"

"But I don't!" said Harry in a strangled voice. "I haven't got any powers he hasn't got. He taught me everything I know. How can I be more powerful than he is?"

"There is a room in the Department of Mysteries, in the Ministry of Magic," interrupted Dumbledore, "that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many study subjects that reside there. It is the power held within that room which you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Love." Dumbledore said. "The greatest power of all time, one Voldemort can never have, is the ability to love."

"Love?"

"Yes, it is the greatest power one can have. The ability to love so unconditionally and so purely. You have a great amount of love in you, Harry, which is something Voldemort has never known."

"You're wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"I said you are wrong Dumbledore. I don't even know the meaning of true love, only what I have read about the thing. I posses no such feelings, nor do I know what love actually feels like."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, looking at Harry with an expression that could only be sorrow.

"I assure you, Harry, I am not wrong." The old man said after a moment. Before Harry could interrupt him, he continued. "I know for a fact that there is at least one person that you would do anything, even die, for."

Harry knew who he was talking about. "Of course I would die for Draco, he is like my brother. I don't see what that has to do with love though."

"No greater love has one but this: to lay down one/s life for one's friends." Dumbledore said, seeming to quote something, though Harry did not recognize the passage.

Harry just nodded, unsure of how to respond to that. He still did not quite understand what Dumbledore meant, or how love was supposed to help him defeat Voldemort.

There was another moment of silence as Harry processed the rest of what he had heard.

"So, the end of the prophecy, it was something about… neither can live…"

"While the other survives," Dumbledore finished.

"That is also what the Horcrux said to me. Does it mean one of us has to kill the other… in the end?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore.

Harry leaned back in his chair, not quite knowing what to feel. It was big news to find out it had always been his destiny to defeat Voldemort; however, it did not really change much.

From the moment Harry found out about his parents, he wanted revenge. Now he knew it was his job; some might even say his obligation, to seek revenge on Voldemort. Only he had the power to kill Voldemort.

How funny it would be if he succeeded (and that was a very big if) to see Harry Potter, Voldemort's once right-hand man, destroy him.

"You know what you must do now in order to finish this?" Dumbledore asked quietly. "You know what the first step is, don't you?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I have to start hunting Horcruxes."

"Precisely. You must find them all and destroy them. I, however, do not expect you to do this task alone. No, instead you must ask your friends to accompany you. You must face him in the end, but for now, you must take all of the help you can get."

"Who?" Harry asked, confused.

"Draco will help, I am sure. He already knows about the Horcruxes, no?" Dumbledore questioned.

Harry nodded and then remembered he had said he would burn Draco. He rolled up his sleeve, careful to keep his forearm face down, and gently touched the mark on his elbow.

He felt the familiar burning sensation that would alert Draco that all was well. If Dumbledore found any of this weird, he didn't say so. Instead, he continued.

"Ron and Hermione will also help. They need an adventure. I am positive Ginny will go too, though she is underage, so you must ensure she does no magic."

"I couldn't ask them to come with me," Harry said. "It will be much too dangerous."

"You need their help, Harry." Dumbledore said, "You can't do this on your own."

"But…"

"There is no but. You will fail if you try this without their help."

"Fine," Harry said, frustrated, "I'll bring them all along, and they will die trying to help me. Is that what you want?"

"No, I want you to find the Horcruxes. You can't do it without help." Harry nodded but didn't say anything. He could see Dumbledore would not be persuaded on this point.

"When do you think we should leave?" Harry asked.

"Go in two days. That will give you ample time to prepare."

"Okay," Harry said, and he rose from his seat, "Two days."

He started to walk over to the fire when Dumbledore said, "Harry."

"Yes?" He turned back to the old man.

Dumbledore held something out to him. He walked back over to the desk and took it. It was an invisibility cloak made of a thin, gossamer fabric, yet it was clearly strongly made.

"This was your father's. He left it in my possession before he died. Now, I want to pass it on to you. No doubt it will be useful in the days to come."

Harry looked at the cloak for a moment and then up at Dumbledore. It was the only thing he had ever received from either of his parents.

"Thank you," Harry said so sincerely that Dumbledore smiled and nodded.

Harry turned and walked to the fire once more. Harry took a handful of powder and was just about to throw it into the fire when Dumbledore said, "I hope to see you again."

"Oh, I am sure we will meet again very soon." Harry said confidently.

He tossed the powder into the fire and said, in a clear voice. "The Burrow." The flames glowed an emerald color, and Harry turned back to Dumbledore.

"Thanks again… for everything." Then he stepped into the fire and was whisked away once again.

Harry arrived in the Burrow's kitchen and was pleased to find everything intact. He could hear voices coming from the living room, but he was unsure if he wanted to join them or not.

He knew there would be no sleep again tonight, so he was sure he would have time to think about everything then. Right now, all he needed was a distraction.

He stuffed the cloak deep into his pocket and then entered into a very cozy living room.

Sitting by the fire were Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco. They had not noticed him enter, though. He saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley talking to a blond woman and someone who looked like he could be one of Ron's older brothers.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said, when he saw him enter, "Come over here, I don't think you all have met yet." Harry made his way over, and the older boy stuck out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Bill, and this is my wife, Fleur."

"Harry Potter, good to meet you." Harry said, shaking Bill's hand. Fleur, too, offered her hand.

"Pleasure to meet you." She said in a thick French accent.

"Bonjour mademoiselle." Harry said, in a decent French accent.

"Tu parles français?" She asked, surprised.

"Oui, un petit peu." Harry smiled. Then something caught his eye. Lupin was sitting in a lonely corner, looking very ill.

"It was very nice to meet both of you. Would you please excuse me?"Bill nodded, and Harry walked over to where Lupin sat.

"Harry, you're back. How did it go?" Lupin greeted him, trying to sound positive, but Harry could tell he was tired.

"It was fine," Harry said, sitting. He, for obvious reasons, was not about to go into detail. "Are you okay? No offense, but you look miserable."

Lupin laughed, "Yeah, I am fine. I feel sort of ill at the moment."

Harry's eyes traveled over to the open window. The moon was shining brightly outside. Another day or so, and it would be full.

"Ah," Harry said. Lupin sighed heavily. "Exactly." Both of them sat in silence for a moment.

Then Lupin asked, "When we first met, how did you know I was a Werewolf? Usually, people don't know until I show them my scars or disappear every full moon or something like that." Harry looked at him and then back at the window.

"Greyback mostly. I was around him so much that I was able to observe his ways even when he was normal."

"I figured that, but what about me in particular?"

Harry thought about it. "Mostly your eyes and your stance. I don't really know; it's kind of hard to explain." Lupin nodded.

"Do you make the potion?" Harry asked.

"No," Lupin said sadly. "It is much too complex for me to make. I have to go somewhere to transform."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Harry said. Then his eyes lit up, struck with a new thought.

"Hold on, I'll be right back." Harry stood and walked over to where Draco was seated.

"Harry!" He said, jumping to his feet. "How did it go?"

"It was fine," Harry said hastily. "Can I talk with you in the kitchen?"

"Sure," Draco said, frowning. Harry led the way out of the room and back into the kitchen.

"So, if you didn't know this already, Lupin is a werewolf." Harry said as soon as he closed the door.

"I did," Draco said.

"Good. So, he has no one to make him the Wolfsbane potion. He has to go away and suffer. Do you think you could…"

"Make it for him?" Draco said, "Yes, I think I could if I had the proper ingredients. When does he need it by?"

"Well, tomorrow is the full moon, but he could use it next month." "I think I can make it."

"Could you make a lot so it will last him a while?"

"I could give him a year's worth." Draco said. "That would be great. What do you need to make it?"

"We will have to check our trunks to see if we have the stuff." Draco said, "We might, but if not, we will have to get it."

"Okay," Harry said, "I can get stuff for you if you give me a list."

"Okay, I will later."

"Thanks, Draco."

"Of course. I actually decided to talk with him, as you suggested. He did help, more than I thought he would anyway."

"I'm glad you did." Harry smiled. "I should go and tell him that you can make the potion for him."

"Harry," Draco said before Harry could open the door.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay? Did everything go well with Dumbledore?" Harry paused before answering.

"Everything was…interesting. I'll tell you about it later."

"Okay," Draco agreed, and Harry could tell he was worried.

"It's fine, Draco; there's nothing to worry about."

"Sure," Draco said, obviously not believing him for a second.

Harry sighed and exited the kitchen, Draco at his heels. Draco went to join the others, but Harry returned to where Lupin was still seated.

"What was that about?" Lupin asked as he sat once more.

"Draco is excellent in potions. He got an OWL and NEWT in his potions class. He used to watch the Death Eaters make it for Greyback when he didn't feel like ripping anyone apart, which was rare, but still. He said he could make the potion for you if you wanted."

"Really, he would do it?" Lupin asked, looking hopeful. "It wouldn't be too difficult?"

"He said it would be fine if he had ingredients. He can even make up to a year's supply for you."

"Wow… I, Wow," Lupin said, struggling for words. "Thank you."

"Of course, you have helped us both a ton since we got here. It is really the least we can do." Lupin got up and hugged Harry.

Then he walked over to where Draco was. He bent down and gave him a hug, also.

"Hey, it's no problem." Draco said a bit awkwardly.

"Thank you so much." Lupin said. He walked back over to Harry. "If you don't mind, I am going to bed."

"Go on. Good night." Harry said.

"Night," Lupin said, and Harry watched as he exited the room. Harry looked around the room.

Now, he had another choice. He could either join the others or go to bed himself. However, he was saved from having to make a decision because Draco stood and said, "I am pretty tired, too. I think I will go to bed."

"Me too," Ginny said, yawning.

With that, the rest of the room disbanded and made their way upstairs. Harry and Draco got changed in absolute silence. It seemed like neither wanted to be the first to talk.

Draco seemed lost in thought, and Harry was not eager to tell his best friend about his scar or anything else. It was not until they were climbing into bed that Draco finally spoke.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Harry sighed and looked at him. There was no point in stalling any further. He would have to tell Draco. So he did.

He started off by telling Draco about the Horcruxes and about destroying the ring. He explained about his scar and about what happened when it burned.

He did not look at Draco while he was explaining everything; instead, he looked down at his sheets. Eventually, he lapsed into silence, and Harry glanced up at him. Draco's face was a mixture of alarm and sorrow.

"Draco," Harry said weakly, but Draco didn't look at him. He was thinking hard about what Harry had just said.

"Draco," he tried again. "I'm really sorry. I should have told you earlier."

Draco looked up at him quickly. "You're sorry? I'm the one who should be sorry. I should have pushed you to tell me more after your last meeting. I should have seen you were in pain. I'm sorry."

Harry looked at him, almost stunned. "Draco, this isn't your fault. I should have told you. But I hid it from you, even after the talk we had. I'm really sorry; I trust you. I just needed to know more before I told you."

"I know Harry," Draco said. "I should have been more observant, though."

"And I should have told you. We both made a mistake. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course, if you, in turn, can forgive me?"

"Always." Draco jumped out of his bed and hugged Harry hard and tight."So, is there any way to stop this from happening?" This was the question Harry had been dreading.

"Well…" He said slowly. "I have tried blocking him, and that worked originally, but the next time I felt much worse."

"Normally, I would think destroying the ring would do it, but seeing as it was the reason you were cursed…"

"The ring was totally destroyed. I am not sure how to stop it from happening."

"Well," Draco said, "I'll help you figure it out. Even if it means killing Voldemort himself."

Draco couldn't know; there was no way. Yet, he had just predicted exactly what Harry must do.

"If it hurts tonight, wake me up, okay?" Draco said, looking him in the eye.

"Okay," Harry lied through his teeth. "I will. Usually, it doesn't hurt at night, though. I have just been up because I want to think."

"Okay, but if it does, or even if you just need to talk, then wake me up."

"I will," Harry agreed.

"Okay then." Draco said, walking back over to his bed. Good night, Harry." He clicked off the lights, casting the room into darkness.

"Good night, Draco." Harry replied, settling into his bed. But as Harry was listening to Draco's breathing become deeper and deeper, he realized something.

His good night was much more than just a good night. It was a goodbye.