Rated: PG

* * * * *

The Daily Prophet had developed a new section of the newspaper: You Know Who's Latest Victims. On a lucky day, a paragraph would be devoted to the Dark Lord. After an attack, the section could end up being three pages long. It was the page that everyone turned to when they got their paper in the morning.

Harry Potter was no exception. However, as his eyes slowly took in names, his attitude was different. He was not thinking about what he should bake for that girl he knew at Hogwarts whose brother died. He was not looking at it in glee and pride. He was not looking at it with contempt. He looked at it in bitter guilt. Every name that soaked into his brain became a demon. These demons would haunt him for the rest of his life.

This morning was a foggy, rainy day. It did nothing for Harry's mood. His lips were set in a grim line as he looked at the names. They began to drone inside of him. He took them in without pausing to think about who they were.

Once Harry was finished, he pulled out his wand to Apparate. He never bothered with breakfast anymore. With a twist and flick, he was disintegrating from his apartment and appearing in a different apartment. This one was bigger, filled with antiques and odds and ends that gave it a cozy feel. That coziness didn't reach Harry today.

Albus Dumbledore was in the kitchen. His wrinkled, weathered hands were using a wand to make toast. A knife was currently flying towards the marmalade, ready to spread the sweet jelly onto the two slices of neatly toasted bread Dumbledore was contemplating.

Dumbledore looked up and smiled at Harry. "Good morning," he greeted. He looked back to his breakfast. "I can never get it to taste exactly as it did before, at Hogwarts."

Harry ignored the brief sting of pain that hit him at the name of the old school. "Have you read the paper yet this morning?" he asked. There was a bit of accusation in his voice. Why was Dumbledore being so cheerful?

Dumbledore sighed. He turned around to regard Harry. "Yes, Harry," he said in a voice of quiet pain. "I read the names."

Harry's accusations rose. "Don't you even care then?" he demanded. "She's dead."

Of all the things I believed in

Counting the days that pass me by

"Harry, I have found in my life that sometimes gathering a cheerful opposition can make even the darkest of darkness flee." Dumbledore munched quietly on his toast. "Do you understand?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't," he admitted. "Lavender was a student of yours. She got on my nerves most of the time, but I can't help but mourn for her."

Dumbledore nodded silently. "I understand that, Harry."

Harry's frustration grew. He let out a noise that was somewhat of a scoff. "Never mind," he said shortly. "It's Saturday. I'm going to go get Ron's lazy arse out of bed."

"Do what you must," Dumbledore said as Harry pulled out his wand. The comment sounded odd, but from the look in Dumbledore's eyes, Harry knew his old professor was trying to tell him something.

Harry twisted and flick once more. He didn't want to try and figure out what Dumbledore meant. He just wanted to wake Ron up, go over to Hermione's, then head to the Burrow for lunch. Saturdays had become Harry's favorite day of the week. When you were caught up in the hustle and bustle of the Weasley household, it was easy to forget your own troubles.

* * * * *

It was eleven o'clock in the morning when Harry, Ron, and Hermione all arrived together in the Burrow's living room.

Mrs. Weasley was upon them in an instant. She kissed each of them. (Harry twice) Then she dragged Hermione into the kitchen to help her prepare the meal.

"Lavender died yesterday," Harry blurted out.

Ron eyed Harry wearily. "I don't want to talk about death, Harry. Not right now."

Harry nodded understandingly. "Dumbledore doesn't care either."

"I didn't say I didn't care!" Ron protested, eyes glaring at Harry. "Just because we all don't feel guilty over every death doesn't mean we don't care."

Ron left the room, following Hermione, as if to prove his point.

I been searching deep down in my soul

The last three years were just pretend

Ginny appeared down the stairs. She smiled softly and shyly at Harry. In the three years they'd been out of Hogwarts, Ginny had grown to be a friend to Harry. Not nearly as close as Hermione and Ron, but he enjoyed the youngest Weasley's company. She was witty, soft-spoken, and kind. You had to scratch the surface to meet the real Ginny Weasley. That was something Harry hadn't been willing or smart enough to do until recently.

"Hello, Harry," she greeted. "How have you been?"

Harry arched an eyebrow. "How do you think?"

Ginny frowned. "You shouldn't be depressed so much, Harry. Why don't you take a moment to look at the things in life you're grateful for?"

"Why?" Harry asked bitterly. "Voldemort will take them from me someday anyway."

Ginny winced slightly at the name being spoken, but she didn't say anything. She had reached him by that point. She took his hand in hers and sat down on the couch. He followed suit. "I hate seeing you like this," she admitted. "You're not the Harry who I remember."

"People change," Harry muttered.

Ginny nodded. "Yes. The war has changed us all. But I wish it didn't change you, Harry. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."

Harry kept quiet, unsure of how to reply.

Ron interrupted them, coming to the door way with a miffed expression. "They're accusing me of sneaking a bite of the turkey," he managed to say in his most affronted voice. His eyes lit up. "Want to get Fred and George and see if we can talk them into a game of Quidditch?"

And I said Good bye to you

The one thing that I tried to hold onto

Though the day was filled with laughter, food, and the Weasley's, Harry's mood hadn't changed much by the time he got home. His mood hadn't changed much in months, as a matter of fact. Ginny had been kind enough to point this out to him. But her view of the matter struck Harry more than anyone else’s. Instead of becoming frustrated, Ginny spoke to him in her usual manner. She simply told him what she was feeling. Sometimes he wished he could do that.

Harry had Apparated in the middle of his living room. It wasn't until he looked up that his heart skipped a beat in fright. His hand automatically went to his robes, reaching for his wand to point towards the intruder in a split second.

Then he realized it was Dumbledore. "I'm glad to see your reflexes are working, Harry," Dumbledore said. A few years ago, a sparkle would have invaded his eyes with the comment. Now it seemed he only said it because it was what he should say.

Adeoye Padgette, a close ally and wise wizard, was sitting with Dumbledore on the couch. They were sipping tea carelessly.

"Have a seat, Harry," Adeoye offered.

Harry sat down in the stuffy loveseat to the right of the two wizards. He took the mug of tea Adeoye offered, but he didn't drink any. His brow was furrowed together. Only something important would bring these two together into his apartment. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, trying to keep his voice emotionless.

"The usual," Dumbledore remarked. "Don't worry more than you usually do. Nothing has happened."

"We came here with a proposition," Adeoye continued. He and Dumbledore exchanged a reluctant look.

I still get lost in your eyes

But it's not right

Harry felt his nervousness rising. "What?" he demanded after a moment, unable to take the tension and the secluded looks these two professors were sending each other.

Dumbledore cleared his throat slightly. "As you know, Voldemort has been gaining power. We must not try and ignore this as many witches and wizards are. We need to fight back." He sighed. "However, I do not believe in attacking when we are not ready. Which is why we're here tonight."

"I'm ready," Harry said unhesitatingly. "You don't even have to ask. I'll do anything to put a stop to this."

"Ah, do be careful what you promise," Adeoye advised. "Anything has numerous possibilities that might not all be pleasurable for you."

Harry sent him a dark look. "Just get on with it. What do you need me to do?'

Dumbledore looked reluctant, so Adeoye filled in for him. "We are gathering some of the more valuable members of the Order to go into hiding. Once concealed from the Dark Lord, we will devote our time to bettering ourselves and our powers. When the time comes, we will be ready at last to face Voldemort and to defeat him. Once and for all."

Harry looked blankly at Adeoye. Then he looked at Dumbledore. His old professor wouldn't meet his eyes. "What do you think, Professor?" Harry pressed quietly.

Dumbledore looked up at Harry, and what was shown in those blue eyes was pain. "I think that this is a wonderful opportunity. I think this is the only way we will have a fighting chance against Voldemort."

"But . . ." Harry said, suspecting that there was one soon to come.

"But," Dumbledore acknowledged, "I think it also requires strength emotionally. You will not be able to leave the camp at any time for any reason. You will not be able to see any of your loved ones for so long as years. You may never see them again."

"What about Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked. "They're in the Order. If they're there, I can handle it, Professor."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid not, Harry. I insult my former students naught, but they're place is here. Your place is in the camp."

"Hermione is the cleverest witch ever to step foot in Hogwarts!" Harry cried out indignantly. "How can you not invite her? How can you let her go unused?"

"Because, Harry, that is how it must be," Adeoye said calmly.

Harry's eyes flashed. "I get it now," he said quietly. "This is one of those times where you two know more than you're letting on."

"Nobody knows the future, Harry," Dumbledore said simply.

Harry knew better though. There was a reason for Ron and Hermione to stay behind. Even if he couldn't see it, Dumbledore would never make such a decision without careful thought. Harry respected Dumbledore's wishes, and he would follow the aging professor anywhere . . . but something inside him was protesting. Ten years ago he'd entered the Wizarding world. In those ten years he'd created bonds, friendships, and a place in life for himself. Was Dumbledore telling him he couldn't have any of that anymore? It seemed too much.

"You need to think about this," Dumbledore said, recognizing the look in Harry's eyes. He stood up. "If you do choose our offer, Harry, you must remember one thing."

"What?"

"You must not tell anyone what we're doing," Dumbledore said, each word carrying weight that knocked into Harry's heart. "You must not say your good byes to anyone. If you need to, send your condolences in a letter. Do not mention anything that we discussed tonight thought. Voldemort is everywhere."

Good bye to you

The one thing that I tried to hold onto

"I have to see Ron and Hermione," Harry protested. "They'll think I betrayed them!"

"That is why we are giving you time to think," Dumbledore remarked. "It is your choice to choose. You may help us to save possibly the entire earth, or you may stay behind for those that you love."

They both left with those last words of Dumbledore. Harry felt anger rise up inside of him. When Dumbledore put it like that, the choice seemed impossible to make. He knew what he had to do, what would save innocent people, but he also knew that he couldn't leave his friends. Especially not without a good bye.

And it hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time

I want you, but I'm not giving in this time

Harry took the mug in his hand and threw it against the wall. He let out a string of curse words he'd never before used. Neither of the actions made him feel any better.

He left then. Not with an Apparation spell, but leaving his apartment on foot. He needed to think about this. A decision of this magnitude required deep thought.

Harry knew what he was doing. He walked past Ron's apartment first. Though he wasn't quite sure which window belonged to his friend, the thought and meaning was all the same. He stared desolately up at the building for a long time. In that allotted time, memories he had forgotten returned to him. He smiled and laughed out loud at most of them, but there were some that made the ever constant pain in his heart twist and contort.

He continued walking then. The rain that had started that morning was pounding down on him. He was glad for it, because it helped him to pretend he wasn't crying. He went to Hermione's apartment next. He stayed there just as long as he had at Ron's. More laughter escaped him, and more tears fell. People passing by stared openly, but Harry didn't care. They weren't having to make a life altering decision today. He was.

Harry Apparated home after Hermione's apartment. When he set out, he had planned on going inside both of his friends' houses. He wanted to at least tell them cryptically that he was leaving. He wanted to share one last joke with Ron. He wanted to hear Hermione snap at Ron one more time.

As he thought this, he knew his decision had been made. What other choice was there, after all? Dumbledore had known what Harry would choose. Ron and Hermione would know why he chose to do this. Because, Harry knew, to stay was an act of selfishness that he couldn't attempt.

Good bye to you

The one thing that I tried to hold onto

Taking Dumbledore's advice, Harry grabbed a quill, an ink pot, and a sheet of parchment. He sat down at the coffee table and scribbled down a note. He didn't let himself cry. He wouldn't want his family to know that it had been painful for him. He had to let them know he had to do this for the good of all those people in the world. He had to let them know that he loved them, that if he could, he wouldn't do it.

But how could he do that without trespassing Dumbledore's order? He wasn't to breathe a word of what was happening. People might figure it out in time, but Harry knew one word could give them all away. In the end, he kept it short and simple.

When that was done, Harry packed a suitcase with his belongings. He wouldn't bring anything sentimental. That might tempt him to leave, tempt him to give up this sacrifice. He would leave Hermione to take care of those things.

But there was one thing that he had to take care of. He grabbed another sheet of parchment and scribbled another note. He folded it up and went to Hedwig's cage. She landed on his arm gracefully with a cheerful little nip on his ear. He tied the parchment to one of her legs.

"Hedwig, I don't want to do this," he whispered hastily. "Don't be mad at me, and don't try to find me. You could put everyone in jeopardy. Do you understand?" Hedwig squawked forlornly. "I'm sorry," Harry whispered. He went to the window. "Take that note to Ginny, will you?" Hedwig stayed hesitantly. After a second, she nipped his ear again and flew out the window.

As her graceful white wings glided in the midnight air, Harry felt a piece of his heart hollow. In place of it, he made himself numb. He would continue to make himself numb for as long as possible.

Harry grabbed his belongings and took out his wand. He looked around him once more, felt the need begin to take over him. Before he could hesitate any longer, Harry twisted his wand.

And when the stars fall I will lie awake

You're my shooting star . . .

A few seconds later he arrived in Dumbledore's living room.