Everyone thought Dumbledore loved secrecy. Harry, and I believe others as well, have all been annoyed at some point by Dumbledore's constant secrecy. I always think that Remus and Sirius, who have Harry's best interest in mind, would attempt to challenge Dumbledore's withholding of certain information. Here's my interpretation of what transpired. Read and review. Enjoy.

The Burden of Knowing

In all the rooms I had seen in the House of Black, the furniture in this small, moldy room was the sparsest and the most ancient. I found him in this room, bending over a shabby desk that appeared to be untouched for at least a few decades. Rolls of parchments were spread in front of him, filled with tiny scripts and, if I was not mistaken, intricate Runes. The only illumination was three candles weeping silently. When I pushed open the door, the small gust of wind caused by the turbulence swayed the tiny flames, and one came dangerously close to a tome. He reached over to move the candle further away, before looking up at me.

"Remus, is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, not unkindly at all. However, his tone still triggered the ire at had been building up in me over the past few weeks, and I remembered the exact reason that I sought him in the first place.

"Yes, Headmaster, there is indeed one thing I would like to ask you about." Sarcasm had never been my forte, but at that moment it rolled of my tongue with ease. The aged headmaster remained as calm as ever. "I would love to know if there is a reason for you to withhold all the major pieces of information from the Order. Why is it that we take shift in front of the Department of Mystery without knowing what we are guarding? Why is it that you are ignoring Harry?" I was normally a very collected person, but this time anger and anxiety seemed rushing out of me before I could suppress them.

"Remus, please take a seat." Dumbledore gestured at the empty wooden chair beside his desk. Grudgingly he placed himself on that uncomfortable chair. "Then we could address your concerns one by one."

"You wished to know why I have been ignoring Harry."

It was more of a statement than question, but I nodded stiffly anyways.

"Harry has a mental connection with Voldemort."

"What!" I cried involuntarily, almost tumbling out of my chair. My breath was suddenly stuck in the chest, and an iron fist seemed to squeeze all the blood out of my heart. It was a wrenching pain in stomach. "Does Harry… Does Voldemort…" I stammered, at loss of words.

"Harry knew about the connection. When Voldemort is near him or has a particularly strong emotion, Harry could sense it. Sometimes he had dreams of Voldemort's thoughts. So far Voldemort is not aware of the connection yet. However, shall he ever become aware of it, he would no doubt try to use it to his advantage. He could try to spy on the order or Hogwarts. He could even try to possess Harry through the link."

"Then why…why aren't you doing anything about it? Teach him Occlumency or something."

The tiny flames of the candles danced and wavered, and the light in Dumbledore's eyes flickered. "Occlumency can effectively block out Voldemort, yes. However, the process of learning it could weaken the mind considerably, not to mention Harry's mood these days is volatile enough. Therefore I view it as the last resort. That is also the reason I distance myself from him. If I could create the illusion that Harry is but another student to me, Voldemort might be less tempted to possess him."

"Merlin…" I managed to chock out. I had a strong urge to scream, or bash my head against a hard surface. My mind turned toward Harry, whose suffering was much more dreadful than I had previously thought. He is but a child! And we have no way to protect him. We could not share his burden, nor shield him from the terror or pain… That guilt-ridden helplessness was physically painful.

I felt a warm hand squeezing my shoulder gently. My gaze, hazed by the unshed tears, fell on Dumbledore's understanding face. It was as though he knew exactly how pained I felt. "There are indeed pains that you cannot shield from Harry, but that is precisely the reason that your support is important. Harry still needs you, more than ever." I nodded numbly. It was almost surreal, having come here with the full intention of finding Dumbledore's ulterior motives, but ending up receiving his comfort instead.

"Do you still wish to know why we are guarding the Department of Mystery?

I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak.

"As I have stated in the Order meeting, there was a prophecy involving Harry and Voldemort, and that Voldemort would do anything to get his hands on that prophecy. However, the rest of the prophecy cannot be disclosed. Not only is the content too dangerous to be known by so many people, but the nature of the prophecy should not be know."

"Why all these secrecy?" I asked, my ability of speech suddenly returned. "Doesn't the order deserve to know what they are fighting for? Shouldn't these decisions be discussed instead of made by once person?"

Dumbledore seemed unfazed by the outburst. "To what extend are you willing to sacrifice for the greater good, Remus?"

I stared, baffled by the sudden change of topic. Was Dumbledore trying to create a distraction? Nevertheless, I answered "I would sacrifice my life if it ends the war."

He smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Allow me to ask you a hypothetical question then. If you know that sacrificing one person has sixty percent's chance to end the war, thus saving tens of thousands, would you do it?"

"Sixty percent? I…I don't know. How could I decide the fate of another?"

A moth was encircling the flame. It fluttered and flew near, but backed away immediately when one of the tiny wings seemed singed. "Precisely, we should not have control over the other's fate. However, this is war. Sometimes if we do not decide, or make a wrong decision, tens of thousands will die." Dumbledore closed his eyes. In the dying flames the lines on his face were all the more pronounced, making him look every year of his age. "Then let me ask you another hypothetical question. Would you sacrifice one person's life if you know for certain that it would end the war?"

"One person…" I muttered, gazing unseeingly as the moth once again tried to approach the flame. "I wouldn't want to make the decision, but I suppose I would sacrifice that one person." The words came out as no more than a whisper, and I suddenly wondered if the 'hypothetical' decision makes me an evil person.

"What if that person is someone you love? One that you view as your family?"

My mind wandered to Harry, who was sharing a room with Ron upstairs, and then to Sirius, who had locked himself up in Buckbeak's room. I remembered the Boggart that I had confronted but a few hours ago. Could I bear to see them dead, even if their deaths should bring peace to the world?

"You don't have to answer it." Dumbledore's soft voice penetrated my contemplation, and I met his glistening eyes. "Those are the impossible choices. Those are decisions that, once made, would plague your waking hours forever. If you do not know all the information, if you do not see the whole picture, then you do not need to choose, and you do not need to feel the guilt of choosing one way or the other."

"But eventually, someone has to choose." I said quietly.

"Yes, eventually someone has to choose" he agreed. "Someone has to bear the burden of knowing, and the burden of choosing – even if it cost him dearly."

The moth made a final attempt to draw near to the flame. The fire engulfs the tiny moth, and it fell down on the desk in a fireball. I did not move my gaze from Dumbledore's face, however, and I imagined seeing tears shining in his eyes. "Were you talking about Harry? Do you think…Do you believe…?" My voice faltered again.

"I try all that I could to keep Harry alive, and I will." At the moment, his sapphire blue eyes looked deep into my eyes, and I saw the truth of the matter: he loved Harry, and that love, together with the burden of knowing, was killing him. "But, Remus, what promises could I possibly make?"

I stared at Dumbledore mutely. His silvery hair glowed in the waning light, and there were a thousand lines etched in his face – a man who had been fighting for the majority of his life. There was nothing I could say or do to console the old man who was doomed by the responsibility of choosing, so I took his hand in mine trying to return the same gesture of comfort. The candles were now nothing more than three pools of wax tear. As I got up, the flames flickered, and then died altogether, plunging the stale room into darkness. Dumbledore did not attempt to relight the room as I walked out, nor did he move at all. However, after I closed the door, I thought I heard a muffled sob.

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I often have the urge to take Harry away from all these madness, like seeking refuge aboard or something. He is a child, and he does not deserve to be stuck in the center of the storm. Harry is already scarred and wounded, and more pain would only ensue if he stays. The urge has only grown after Sirius died. At these moments, I would remember the conversation I had with Dumbledore all those months ago, about secrecy and impossible decisions. I still remember his lonely silhouette in that stale room with the burden of knowing on his shoulders, and so Harry remains in the Dursley's house, and I remain one lonely werewolf.

I am a complete amateur when it comes to writing story. So please review, guys. I'd love to know if you like or hate the story. Constructive criticism is appreciated. If you review only to tell me I am a lame write, save it. I know that already.