Things were quiet at the Dursley house for the first summer in years. Harry never left his room; he didn't even exist to them. Petunia and Vernon went about their normal affairs like always, and Dudley was fatter than ever. Things were normal.
In Harry's room, everything was still packed. Everything but his books. He'd paid an extra visit to Diagon Alley after Hogwarts, to withdraw his gold from Gringotts and buy all the books he could to prepare himself for the journey ahead.
The photo album he'd treasured since his first year at Hogwarts still lie on his bedside table, pages turned open to the most recent addition: A photo of himself, kissing goodbye to his newly found, and already lost first love, Ginny Weasley.
Sitting beside them were Ron and Hermione. They were slightly less passionate about their farewell, but in the moving picture you could see their fingers touching intimately. That was a big step for them.
He planned to separate this picture from the rest and take it with him on his quest, in case he ever needed to look back at the last time he'd see his friends, possibly ever. It was sad, but still he was filled with relief that he'd finally convinced his friends not to come along. It was 6:00 AM on the day he'd promised himself he'd start off to Godric's Hollow. He was still asleep, but only halfway. He'd be leaving in just a few minutes.
The moment the doorbell rang he knew he should have been ashamed of himself for not knowing his friends any better. For not knowing they'd be there the moment he was really going to be gone. He decided he wouldn't answer it. They'd have to face the Dursleys in the early morning before they could get to him, and when they did he'd have already flown out the window.
Unless Hermione decided to apparate up to his room. That wouldn't be unlike her. But he'd stay in bed a few more minutes, and hopefully she'd leave.
His plan didn't work out so well. A girl did apparate up to his room, and sat herself on his bed. But it wasn't Hermione. A small, freckly, red-haired girl pushed Harry's hair back up on his head while he lie there pretending to sleep, until he opened his eyes to see her.
"Ginny!" He yelled. She was the first he'd convinced not to come; he didn't expect to see her. "You promised me…"
"I lied. I couldn't let you do this on your own." She leaned over and kissed him. "Now come on, Ron and Hermione are downstairs talking to your aunt and uncle." He had no choice now. He had to let them come. He stood out of bed.
"How did you get up here?" He asked.
"Apparated." She said coolly. Handing him his shoes.
"You're sixteen, how'd you learn to apparate?" He asked.
"Illegally, Hermione taught me. Come on!" She grabbed his arm and dragged him downstairs to the sitting room. And what he saw there made him happier than Hogwarts could. And frightened him almost more than Lord Voldemort himself.
The Dursleys were sitting, looking confused. They were talking to two figures sitting nuzzled together on the couch. He recognized the figures at once; they had been his best friends for nearly seven years now. And what frightened him so much, was that he knew if they left together, at least one of them would surely be killed by the end.