There once was a quaint little grocery shop near London. It was like many other nice stores, with it's shelves all neatly placed and stacked with foods, household cleaners, paper towels and such.

But despite the normal atmosphere, there was a certain someone there, that if her secret was known to others, the environment would become hectic.

A sixteen year-old girl leaned against the counter next to the cash register.

She had vivid, long red hair and a freckled complexion. Her soft brown eyes surveyed each passerby as a dreg of coffee sat abandoned next to her elbow. This girl was wearing the proper attire for an employee at a store: A white shirt, black pants, red apron, an a little nametag on it reading, "Ginny".

This was how it had been for Ginny Weasley since two months ago. Ginny was not the average teenage girl; quite frankly, there was nothing average about her.

We all know the story about witches, wizards, You-Know-Who, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, and all that. Though all the deaths had occurred, Ginny had been the one heartbroken, but she didn't know if Harry felt the same way….

"Erm…excuse me ma'am, but…erm, I'm ready to pay for my things…."

Ginny gave a start. She had not noticed the man in front of her, who had been standing right behind the register for a few minutes. She had been so deeply immersed in her thoughts that she had forgotten she was a cashier.

Oh, what her annoying supervisor would say….

"Oh, yes,"

Ginny said hastily, removing the man's items from the strip of rubber that moved the groceries to the register, and quickly scanned them.

"Sorry."

After all the groceries were scanned, Ginny told the man his total, he paid for the groceries, and left.

Ginny almost placed her elbow back on the counter when a irritated cough came from behind her.

"Miss Weasley,"

the voice belonging to the cough said, moving over to her to reveal a man with straw-colored hair, bulky black glasses, and a lofty expression.

"This store is not home to all of your conveniences. I, as your employee supervisor have the right to report you sleeping on the job."

How Ginny despised Garrett Urell.

"I wasn't sleeping!"

Ginny snapped, but her supervisor took no notice to her response.

"I don't care how abnormally you've been moved up from a bagging person to a cashier so quickly," Garrett continued, "but the fact still does not give you permission to act in such a manner."

Ginny scowled. She knew exactly how much Garrett loathed being outshined when she succeeded in her job. He had not been promoted so quickly, so Ginny figured that he despised anyone who was better than him on principles.

How she had been promoted so fast bewildered him, and unbeknownst to anyone, Ginny had secretly got her all her work done by automatic magic; without spells, though.

Garrett gave her one last look of obnoxious haughtiness, and strode away. Now that Ginny thought about it, Garrett reminded her a lot of Percy.

Ginny gave herself a look a vague disgust.

As if the world needed another Percy. she thought scathingly as she picked up the cup of coffee and poured it into the garbage can next to her.

One of the main questions Ginny had been receiving from her magical friends is why she was working at a Muggle store. They didn't pay her in Galleons, Knuts, or Sickles, so what was the point?

Luckily enough, at this time, Ginny's shift was over. She glanced at the clock one last time, making sure it was four o'clock, the end of her shift.

Ginny tossed her red apron into her blue messenger bag by her feet. She picked it up, then sprinted out of the grocery store.

Just around the corner of the shop lived a Squib named Al Jenson. Why Ginny would bother going there was that Al traded Muggle money for Wizard money.

Ginny knocked on the door to a old house, with rusted shingles and weeds growing around the sides of the house. Since Al was getting older, he didn't have much effort to cleaning.

As the brass knocked rapped on the door one last time, Al opened the door. He was a man with light brown hair with some grayish tinge. He had small dark eyes and a pair of small spectacles on, which gave him the look of an aging owl.

"Jenny, come in, come in…." he said, after squinting at Ginny for a few seconds.

Ginny saved herself the effort of correcting him by saying,

"I've got the money, d'ya want to trade now?"

"Oh," Al said; surprised. "I didn't expect it so soon. Why, it was two weeks until payday for you, wasn't it? Ah well, I lose track of time."

Ginny had just stood in the doorway the entire time it took Al to get his Wizard money. When he returned, Ginny held out her money she had just received that very morning. They traded, and Al said,

"Nice to know the Weasley family, eh? Yes, your father is very hard working at the Ministry. I've dropped by a few times just to say hello. My wife works there, you see, so I pop in occasionally….But Gwen won't be back for about an hour…."

And Al trailed off as he swung the door shut.

Ginny stuffed the money into her messenger bag and followed the path down through London. She was headed for Diagon Alley, where Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Caldron usually had some extra Floo Powder. That was the way she traveled these days, since she could not Apparate.

Ginny stared out into the sky as she walked, her thoughts completely absorbed by Harry, just as they had been as when she had first heard about Harry.

Harry Potter was fast asleep in number four, Privet Drive. Though it was only four in the evening, he had just relieved himself from some letters from the Ministry of Magic, still asking for him to be, as Harry considered, their "mascot". After scribbling "No." on each one of them, he sent his snowy owl Hedwig to deliver them all.

The only mail Harry had been happy to see was the mail from the Weasley's or Hermione Granger. His most recent letter lay on the floor accidentally when he had moved his glasses onto the bedside table, knocking the letter off. The abandoned letter on the floor read,

Harry,

We would be delighted for you to come and stay with us after you leave your aunt and uncles home. Though you wish on going to Godric's Hollow, it would be more fun (and possibly more safe), if you were to stay with us for Bill and Fleur's Phlegm's (the letter had obliviously been tampered by Ginny) wedding. Though, if you insist on going to Godric's Hollow, please let us know.

From,

Mrs. Weasley

The letter had earned a laugh from Harry, preferably because of what Ginny had done. But directly after that laugh, all words seemed to have left him. He had hoped that the thought of Ginny would not bother him as much as it did, but to his dismay, he missed her very much.

Harry had thought going to the Weasley's first would be a good idea, so he also sent a letter back with Hedwig saying yes.

But that was yesterday. Harry was still asleep, rolling around in the bed. His jet black hair had become highly messy as usual.

He did not awaken to the sound of his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, or his cousin Dudley downstairs, all unusually happy and talking in delighted high voices downstairs. Of course, their nephew was going to leave sometime this year!

But another sound he did not awaken to was the sound of Hedwig, tapping against the glass of his bedroom window.

Hedwig, obliviously annoyed that Harry had not left the window open for her, screeched loudly; the note in her beak almost slipping out.

Harry grumbled indistinctively into his pillow. When Hedwig screeched again, more loudly than the last, Harry finally got up.

He opened his emerald-green eyes slowly and gradually got up and opened the window.

Hedwig stuck out her beak and Harry relieved her of the letter. As he unfolded it, he recognized the writing at once. The Weasleys! They were quick writers, no doubt about that.

Harry,

Alright then! We'll pick you up around July 6th, will that work out? No, there will not be no flying car. Arthur will pick you up by Floo Powder. (Please let your aunt and uncle un-board the fireplace if it is boarded up.) This time, I'm positive we won't have Fred and George to give your cousin Ton-Tongue Toffees.

Don't forget to warn the Muggles!

Mrs. Weasley

Harry just remembered something: Today was July fifth, so Mr. Weasley would come tomorrow!

Finally, he wouldn't have to put up with the Dursey's anymore! Now that he was seventeen…and he could use magic outside of school….

So now, what was Harry planning to do? After Bill and Fleur's wedding, he was planning to do some research (how much that sounded like it came from Hermione!) on where the remaining Horcruxes were.

And he didn't plan on going back to Hogwarts either. Like he had told Ron and Hermione last year, he didn't want to come back even if Hogwarts re-opened.

Harry folded up the letter and replaced the letter for his glasses as he sat back down on his bed.

Hedwig flew over to join him as she perched herself on his bed stand.

Harry gave her a scratch around her wings as a sign of thanks and she retreated to her cage, which lay by his dresser.

I guess it'd do me some good if I were to warn the Dursleys, Harry thought as he got up and ran a hand through his already untidy hair.

So then Harry proceeded to the neat kitchen where his Aunt Petunia was busy making dinner and humming happily, which was very rare of her. Dudley was sitting on a one of the chairs, and Uncle Vernon was busy scanning the newspaper for the umpteenth time.

Aunt Petunia was a tall, bony woman with blonde hair who specialized in gossip. Uncle Vernon, who appeared the complete opposite of his wife, was very beefy and large, with a bushy mustache and a reputation of a very loud, booming voice.

Harry's cousin Dudley looked most like his father without the mustache: He was very large and pink, with a tuft of blonde hair upon his round head. He much resembled a pig to Harry, and was as spoiled as anyone could get.

Harry made a small cough to announce his arrival.

The Dursely's looked at him at once. Aunt Petunia had stopped her humming abruptly, Dudley had shifted around in his chair to look at him, (his hands somewhat swaying around his buttocks nervously,) and Uncle Vernon restrained his eyes from an article in the newspaper and peered at him from over his newspaper.

"What is it?" Uncle Vernon snarled.

"Erm…well, I wanted to let you know that I'm not going to be with you guys any longer." Harry said, glancing at each one of them in turn.

"My friend's dad  Mr. Weasley  is going to pick me up tomorrow."

Uncle Vernon seemed lost for words. Either from happiness that his nephew was finally leaving, or that he would have to endure the same man again that had ruined their sitting room three years ago, Uncle Vernon wasn't speaking.

Aunt Petunia took this moment to speak.

"That man?" she snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"How is he getting here?"

"Floo Powder," Harry replied uncertainly.

"What?" Uncle Vernon growled, who had found his voice again. "They're going to what?"

"F-fly here?" Dudley said, his voice quavering a bit. "With powder?"

"Not fly here," Harry corrected impatiently. "By fireplace. They use powder to get to Wizarding fireplaces, but they've connected this house on the Floo Network again to get me."

"Wait a minute," Uncle Vernon said darkly, his small eyes boring into Harry. "The same way he came four years ago? For that Quidinky Championship, or whatever?"

"Yeah," Harry said, now nervous to see his uncle's reaction.

Dudley whimpered. Apparently the thought of his tongue swelling up like long balloon still haunted him.

"I don't think so!" Uncle Vernon protested. "I haven't forgotten how he  he defaced our property by wrecking our sitting room!"

Aunt Petunia shuddered. She mumbled something like, "Dirt…ground into the carpet…everywhere…."

"But Mrs. Weasley already sent me a letter to tell you that this is what they were going to do!" Harry said pleadingly.

"I can't do anything about it!"

"Well, then you'll just have to write back and tell them that I forbid it!" Uncle Vernon roared, spit spluttering out of his mouth as he spoke. "I absolutely will not have those insane people even put a toe in our home again!"

Harry huffed angrily. "I told you: I can't do anything about it! It's too late! Mr. Weasley will  "

"No!"

Harry scowled. He was just about to storm back up to his room when Dudley spoke:

"Bu-ut Dad, that means he'll have to s-stay with us longer!"

Uncle Vernon's face fell.

"He has a point, Vernon," Aunt Petunia conceded , looking thoroughly disappointed. "The boy has to go. The sooner he's gone, the better."

She gave an indignant sniff and returned to her cooking.

Uncle Vernon gave a resigned sign and said to Harry, "Fine. Only this time though, boy. We will not have anymore M-Magic" (he trembled slightly at the word) "blokes come near our house again after this. Understand?" he added fiercely.

"Yes," said Harry, keeping his voice as steady and his expression as neutral as possible.

The Dursley's looked at Harry curiously. Dudley almost looked a bit annoyed at the fact that his cousin was leaving. (Even though he had protested that Harry should not stay at his house any longer, it still left Harry very confused.)

Even Aunt Petunia was looking at him with a vague surprise, even though she was the one who concluded the matter that he leave tomorrow. Uncle Vernon only seemed slightly lost in thought.

That night, Harry fell asleep late, thinking about how he was finally leaving his "home".

The next day, every Weasley family member in the Burrow had something to do.

Mr. Weasley, for example had to pick up Harry at thirty minutes to three. Mrs. Weasley was busy organizing all the wedding preparations before setting everything up, Fleur Delacour was still deciding which colors to Charm her carnation flowers for the wedding, Ginny was doing something (that she had not shared with the family), and Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were helping a frantic Mrs. Weasley.

"Ron, can you just finish helping me with that flower vase?" Mrs. Weasley asked Ron as he reentered the kitchen. He had previously left the room to move the garden pots.

"Sure…." Ron said uncertainly, running a hand wearily through his red hair. (Which had become extremely lank from helping his mother with tedious chores.) He looked at her with his blue eyes and asked,
"D'ya need me to polish it?"

"No, just go bring it to Fleur and ask her if she finished deciding what color her flowers will be."

Ron departed from the kitchen with the flower vase to find Fleur just as Hermione entered.

Mrs. Weasley tossed some of her red hair behind her shoulders before turning to Hermione.

"Could you help me by catching some gnomes, dear?" she asked tiredly. "I'd ask Arthur, but you know how he feels about gnomes…."

"All right," Hermione responded, also shaking her bushy brown hair behind her shoulders. "I'll see if I can't find Ron on my way out."

Just had Ron had left and Hermione entered, Mr. Weasley walked in as Hermione left.

"Molly, I'm off to go get Harry," said the thin, red-haired Mr. Weasley as he spoke to his plump wife. "He can help you too, if you need anymore helpers."

"Oh, I don't want to put too much pressure on him," said Mrs. Weasley quickly. "The poor boy has already got enough on his shoulders."

Mr. Weasley shrugged, gave his wife a light kiss on the cheek and proceeded to the fireplace in the sitting room.

Mr. Weasley took a pinch of Floo Powder sitting on the small table next to the fireplace. Throwing only some powder into the fire (saving some for the trip back), he said loudly and clearly, "Number Four, Privet Drive!" before stepping inside.

The familiar yet uncomfortable feeling of spinning of the walls spinning around Mr. Weasley made feel slightly sick. But it was not long after that Mr. Weasley appeared in the Dursley's sitting room.

Harry had been sitting in the lounge for about a half-hour until Mr. Weasley arrived. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were the only other people sitting there with him. (Dudley had stated that he wouldn't go near Mr. Weasley.)

Aunt Petunia gave a small shriek and jumped in her seat. Mr. Weasley's arrival seemed to have caught her off guard. Uncle Vernon immediately glared at him, as though hoping if he stared at him long enough he would take Harry and leave in two seconds.

"Ah, good evening," Mr. Weasley greeted, brushing some dust off his left arm and stepping out of the fireplace. "Arthur Weasley. I daresay you remember me from the last time we met."

"'I daresay you remember me from the last time we met.'," Uncle Vernon mocked under his breath. Aunt Petunia glanced miserably at her was-clean carpet.

"Well, I'll just take Harry, then," Mr. Weasley said, gesturing for Harry to pick up his bags.

"Wouldn't you like to say good-bye? This time, you may never see him again."

The Dursley's hesitated, but finally, after a minute, Aunt Petunia said, "Good-bye, Harry."

Harry looked at her in surprise. He hadn't ever remembered her call him Harry at all. But immediately after she said that, Aunt Petunia looked as though she swallowed something disgusting.

"Same here," Uncle Vernon said gruffly.

"G'bye," Harry said as he and Mr. Weasley went into the fireplace.

Mr. Weasley tossed the remains of Floo Powder in his hand and stated, "The Burrow!"

Harry glanced back at the Dursley's a split second before the flames engulfed him and saw the Dursley's for (possibly) the last time.