AN: This is for Raven's Dusk. We were discussing why Albus did what he did and how a good chunk of the HP -Fandom hated him for it. This is my explanation.

Based of the Song by Mercedes Lackey "The Price of Command" written for the book Oathbound. Go read it or listen to it. It is worth it.

Not beta-ed, so all the errors are my own.

Ree

The Price

Albus let his head sink into his hands. The door was closed, no one would be able to walk through it, not until he let them. The portraits were empty, each finding somewhere else to be. For just that moment, when there were no eyes watching him, he let his masks fall and tried to forget all that he had to do. All that he had done recently.

His mind showed him the battles that he had fought, the days that he had followed and not lead. The time when he was directed to walk to the front lines and fight. He had won eventually. Not just his own freedom but that of his entire world. He had celebrated and then did his best to hide from the rest of the world.

Taking up the mantle of a teacher he had eventually learned to work with the world. To play the political games. But the knowledge had come too late. He had already scorned and dismissed the boy that now was his enemy.

Not that he had intended to. When he was sent to meet Tom, he was not thrilled about associating with Muggles. What they had cost him had still preyed on his mind. He had not learned to forgive them. But the Headmaster had sent him as the deputy could not, erroneously thinking that the hero of the Wizarding world would make a good representative.

Leaning his head against the back of his seat, pale blue eyes opened and searched the room. 'I always seem to learn too late that there is a price. There was a price to my … association … with Grindelwald. Then the price of my apathy towards Muggles. Now it is the price of command.'

Albus looked out the window and watched as the sky turned red. It was the same color as what signed all his mistakes. That and a deathly paleness. It was some of his best that were the ones that paid for the error instead of himself. 'The Potters, Prewetts, the Longbottoms... and so many more. All dead because I misjudged something.'

Shaking just a bit, he traced the lines he had drawn just a moment ago during Severus' report. Lines that connected bit and pieces of information in his mind. Orders he had to send out. People he had to send into battle without ever telling them why. It was for the sake of everyone that no one knew the entire picture. If Voldemort decided to interrogate them, they couldn't be responsible for another's death, or the destruction of a different operation. Not even his spy knew all the irons he had in the fire.

Leaving the plans, he crossed the room and stared into the fire. In the flames he saw the faces that haunted his dreams. All the ghosts of the people who he had sent to their graves. His fingers clenched tight on the mantle. Swallowing heavily, he prayed that Severus and Harry's would never join the others in the flames. But he knew deep down that if they had to, they would.

For that was the price of commanding. It was to watch your dearest die. To send women and men to fight on the front lines or behind the enemies lines while he stayed behind to plot and plan.

Albus had considered just not doing it anymore. Of walking into the front lines and letting go the responsibility. To once again not know why he had to do what he had to do. Just to accept that it needed to be done. For a moment he considered what it would be like to do just that.

'But who would take up the mantle? Who could I trust to take care everyone to the best of their ability? To consider all the angles and do their absolute best to try and ensure that everyone will come home alive. Because if I don't, someone will surely command in my stead.'

A heartfelt sigh escaped his lip. He knew that there was no one that he would ask to do this. No one that he could trust to make sure that Severus was okay mentally and physically, that Harry got to enjoy a bit of his childhood, that Minerva and the others were able to walk into the light of the morning.

Taking a moment, he saluted the ghosts in the flames and promised them that he would do his best to fulfill his debt to them.

The congenial mask slipped once again over his face. Looking in the mirror, he made sure that his eyes did not look haunted. That his fears were truly masked from everyone. Yet another price. To always stand alone and let no one know just how scared he really was.

Opening the door, Albus stepped onto the revolving stairs. He left Albus Dumbledore behind that closed door. Headmaster Dumbledore, defeater of Grindelwald, Leader of the Order of the Phoenix headed for the Great Hall.