A/N: For MNFF's monthly challenge. Challenge 3, A one-shot using the theme of choices or betrayal. From Roxy Black, Hufflepuff.



Life is always hard for a teenager; they are often forced to do things they don’t understand or don’t like. But life doesn’t get harder than it does for Harry Potter. He lived for ten years not knowing who or what he was; until one night when a lifetime of information was revealed to him. Harry Potter is a wizard and just like his mother and father before him, he belongs at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unfortunately, Harry Potter also has an enemy; an enemy who just happens to be the most powerful dark wizard of all time. Voldemort had murdered Harry’s parents when he was just one year old before trying to murder Harry himself. However, Harry wasn’t killed. His mother’s love had protected him and caused Voldemort’s powers to fail.

Voldemort went into hiding for years until a wizard happened to pass by his wood in Albania. This wizard went by the name of Quirrell and he was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. Voldemort hitched a ride by possessing Professor Quirrell and used him to attempt to steal the powerful Philosopher’s Stone. Harry Potter had managed to stop him at the last moment, and Voldemort was forced once again to flee.


Another five years have passed since then, Harry mused as he sat in his room at his uncle’s house. His uncle was a Muggle, a non-wizard, and so was the rest of his family. Harry had been sent there by Professor Dumbledore after his parents had died. They had treated him badly but at least he had a roof over his head and a bed to sleep on. Harry was waiting for Dumbledore to arrive at the Muggle’s house right now as he sat on his windowsill looking at his photo album. Here were his pictures of his family and friends, all smiling up at him as if they were talking to him right there and then. The photograph he was looking at was one of his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. Colin Creevey had taken it by the lake last year. Hermione was sitting against a tree and Ron had nervously put his arm over her shoulder to get in shot. Harry remembered how both his friends had turned bright pink and had been too embarrassed to talk to each other for the rest of the day. Harry laughed out loud as he thought of his friends; he had often wondered how long it would be before they admitted they liked each other. Everyone knew the real reasons behind their fights except, it seemed, Ron and Hermione.


Harry loved his friends dearly; they had been there for him through everything since he’d started Hogwarts. Together they had faced trolls, three-headed dogs, killer plants, harmful trees, giant spiders, monster snakes, dementors, werewolves, dragons, grindylows, merpeople and various defence against the dark arts teachers. They had been there when he needed them and he had told them everything. Everything except what he had been told just over a fortnight ago.


Ron and Hermione believed that the prophecy, which Voldemort had sought after, had been destroyed the night they had battled him and his Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. Harry knew different. When Dumbledore had sent him back to school after the loss of his godfather, Sirius, the professor had told Harry exactly what the prophesy had said. Harry was the only person who had the power to defeat Lord Voldemort, unless Voldemort killed him first. That was the reason he hadn’t told his friends, how can you tell the people you love that you have to become a murderer or murdered?


Harry knew he had to make a choice. Should he tell them the next time he saw them or wait until he thought they could take it? Should he tell them at all? Harry had made many choices in his lifetime and he had not always come up with the best answer. Just a short time ago Harry had had to decide between staying at Hogwarts and going to save his godfather at the Ministry of Magic, Harry had chosen to go and fight but Voldemort had tricked him and Sirius was not in danger. Harry had led five of his friends to almost certain death and had only been saved by half of the Order of the Phoenix turning up at the right moment. However, by turning up to fight, Sirius was killed and Harry was left alone once more.


Harry still blamed himself for Sirius’s demise and he didn’t think he could ever forgive himself. This was another reason why Harry didn’t tell his friends of his predicament. What if they were put in danger by having that knowledge? Harry would not be able to live with himself if another of his friends died because of a choice he’d made. He couldn’t be responsible for ruining even more lives.


Harry turned the page of his photo album and discovered the photo of his parent’s wedding. Here were three of his closest family members, his parents and his godfather, all dead because his enemy was relentless; all dead in the battle to save Harry, all dead, because of him. The photo album slipped from his hand as a tear rolled down his cheek.


I can’t tell them, Harry thought. I can’t risk it. Harry’s eyes grew tired and before long, he was asleep.


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Two hours later, Harry arrived at The Burrow after going with Dumbledore to convince an old teacher, Horace Slughorn, to return to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had just taken him into the Weasleys’ broom shed to talk about what had happened at the Ministry. He seemed to have some impression that Harry was being brave and handling it well. Harry didn’t have the nerve to contradict his headmaster so he didn’t tell him of all the bad dreams and breakdowns he’d had over the previous two weeks.


Dumbledore also mentioned the prophecy. He wanted Harry to tell Ron and Hermione but Harry still wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to hurt them. He couldn’t let himself hurt them. By the time Harry finally entered The Burrow he was starving and exhausted. Mrs Weasley made him some soup before sending Harry up to Fred and George’s old room for some sleep. Harry was so tired he was dead to the world by the time his head hit the pillow.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Harry was in a wood, filled with golden light. Animals were running all around him, heading towards the edge of the trees. Harry turned to see a shadow floating towards him.
"No!" he shouted, turning to run. He stumbled and fell to the floor. Pulling himself up he found himself looking out into an open field, the sky full of stars and the ground sparkling with frost. A young girl with ginger hair and startling green eyes lay behind him, next to a boy with scruffy dark hair. They were laughing and imagining their life after their seventh year. The world rippled like a stone hitting a silent pond. Harry was standing in the broom shed watching Ron and Hermione spinning round in circles, dancing to a silent tune. Both of them were blushing and Ron kept standing on Hermione’s toes. Harry turned as she started to snap at Ron for being so clumsy, to see that they were not the only ones dancing. The broom shed had multiplied in size tenfold and the room was suddenly filled with many dancing couples. Close by was Mr and Mrs Weasley. Mr Weasley kept whispering "Mollywobbles," and Mrs Weasley was trying to turn to find Harry to give him more soup. Next to them was Tonks, she was dancing alone watching all the other couples. Tears were flowing down her cheeks as her face screwed up in concentration. It was clear she was trying to change her appearance, but all she could manage was making her hair around three inches longer.


Further to the left was Professor Dumbledore wearing a midnight blue robe and bright red woollen socks. He was dancing with Professor McGonagall, who was wearing a purple Weasley-knitted jumper with a large M on the front and a bright pink cha-cha skirt that was swooping from side to side as she and Professor Dumbledore spun around in a perfect jitterbug.


“Interesting,” came a voice from Harry’s right, “I always thought of Minerva as more of a foxtrot person.”


Harry turned to see another Professor Dumbledore smiling at him.


“Professor, what are you doing here?” Harry asked. “I thought this was a dream.”


“It is, Harry; I just thought you might want to talk some more about why you’ve decided not to tell Mr Weasley and Miss Granger about what I said earlier.”


Harry didn’t know how Dumbledore knew what he had decided but had the suspicion that Dumbledore had used legillimency on him. For a moment Harry felt slightly betrayed at this breach of trust before he heard a voice which sounded like Hermione from over his shoulder.


“Harry, Dumbledore’s only looking out for you. It’s likely that this is only your subconscious trying to work out what to do, you might as well go along with it anyway.” The dancing Hermione’s mouth never moved but the voice was clearly Hermione’s.


“Fascinating, Harry, I never knew that the logical side of your brain voiced itself using the guise of Miss Granger. Does this mean that the more uncoordinated part of your brain resembles itself as Ronald?” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, and he took Harry’s hand to move him towards a sofa at the side of the building.


They talked for what seemed to be hours about Harry’s worries and thoughts, going back and forth about what might happen if Harry told his friends. Finally they came to the conclusion that Harry should tell them when the time was right. If the subject was brought up and Harry felt that he could trust them he could tell them anything.


“Now Harry, I know we’ve been talking for hours and Minerva’s feet must be getting very tired from all that jitterbugging, so I’m going to leave you to your dream now. I do believe young Miss Weasley is waiting for you.” Dumbledore pointed at Ginny over Harry’s shoulder, and the young wizard wondered why it was Ginny who was waiting to dance with him. “Have fun, I’m afraid when you wake up, you probably won’t remember any of this but our decision will still be made in your mind.” Dumbledore faded and Harry stood up and walked over to Ginny. They walked hand in hand next to Ron and Hermione and Ginny rested her head on Harry’s shoulder. They began to spin round in circles as the Weird Sisters’ music began to drift through the air. They danced for a while until Harry accidentally moved his foot onto Ginny’s.


“Merlin Harry,” Ron’s voice came from over his shoulder, although the dancing Ron’s mouth never moved. “You’re so uncoordinated.”


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Harry awoke to find someone hitting him on the head.


“We didn’t know you were here already!” came a loud excited voice.


“Ron, don’t hit him!” said a girl’s voice reproachfully.


Yes, thought Harry with a smile, I can trust these two with anything.


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A/N and Disclaimer: The end of this story was taken directly from Half-Blood Prince. It’s on page 88, Chapter 5, An Excess Of Phlegm.

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