AUTHOR'S NOTE Okay, here is Chapter Two. I hope you enjoy it. However, I must make a little note. When I first began writing Chapter One, I knew that my characters had no hope of being canon characters. And at the finish of Chapter Two, I definitely know they will never be canon characters. But, I will justify myself by saying: Four years can completely change a person. Especially when you have to start over with nothing from your old life. And, I think I have a problem with canon just because it's been so long since I've read the books all the way through. And, if I even tried, this story wouldn't be finished for months and months and months. I'm working with a two week time frame now. Uh-oh. But, hell, I'm just happy I'm writing again.

And, as always, thank you so much for the reviews!!! They mean so much to me, and I love all of you.

DISCLAIMER Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

DISCLAIMER #2 I have never been to anywhere outside of the United States, and even then, I haven't been to that many places within America, so I know nothing of any other country, nor do I claim to know anything. Therefore, I apologize if I offend anyone with my perceptions of the other countries I sent these characters to.

This chapter is dedicated to my boyfriend, who is the sole inspiration for my Harry. : )

Chapter Two

GINNY Weasley, or Jenny Allan, as she was known, sighed heavily and took another sip of her drink. It was getting late, and she hadn't seen her Secret Keeper, Abigail Jackson, or Abigail Allan, rather, for quite some time. After all, the club scene had always been Abby's choice for Friday--and Saturday-- nights, and Ginny just tagged along, drinking her life away. It seemed like the only meaningful thing to do nowadays.

Four years ago, Ginny was ripped away from her family, her friends, and most importantly, the love of her life. She had only corresponded with Harry six times in the last four years, and frankly, that was no where near enough. She knew in her heart they were meant to be together. She just had to find a way to prove it. And saying so in a letter didn't seem like the proper way to do such a thing. So, instead, Ginny watched as Abby went through men like candy, wishing that she could be at home, in her room at the Burrow, or back in the Gryffindor common room, studying Harry Potter from afar.

The day she left England for France had been the worst day of her young life. When she asked how long she would have to stay, the Minister assured her only a couple of months, and she would be home again. When those months turned into a year, Ginny began to use her monthly owls to send rather rude letters to the Minister of Magic himself, insisting that he bring her home, or he was going to regret it. After two years of these letters and no response, Ginny gave up. It was the first time she had ever given up on anything. And that was when she began drinking regularly, going to the clubs with Abby as an excuse to get drunk.

"I'll have another, thanks," Ginny called to the bartender. He placed the bottle in front of Ginny and smiled suggestively. Ginny rolled her eyes and turned around to face the dancing crowd. She took a long sip and sighed again. Oh, this is ridiculous.

For the most part, Ginny and Abby got along perfectly fine. They had a lot in common and enjoyed doing most of the same things, which Ginny supposed was the reason they were posing as sisters. However, probably their only difference was their biggest one: Abby was the party girl, and Ginny would have preferred to stay in every night watching movies.

"There you are," Ginny heard someone call. It was Abby, and she was making a beeline for Ginny, two men following in her footsteps.

"Finally! Look, Abby, I'm ready to head on home."

"Nonsense," Abby giggled, already drunk. "These two nice men want to dance with us."

"Abigail," Ginny hissed. "You know how I feel about this."

"Yes, I know," Abby whispered. "But just one night. Just dance with him, that's all I ask. Please."

Ginny sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. "Fine. I'll do it." After all, it was just one dance.

THE next morning, Ginny woke up to a killer headache. She groaned and tried to turn over, but there was a large lump lying next to her in the bed. Ginny's eyes grew wide and her breathing became heavy. No, no, no! her mind screamed. Please tell me I didn't do what I think I did. I don't even know his bloody name. She slowly sat up and her worst fears were confirmed as the blankets fell and she was only dressed in her under things. Even slower still, she lifted the blankets to see who her companion was, and was shocked to see it was the man from the club, and he was still fully clothed.

"Thank God," she practically shouted and the man beside her stirred.

"Good morning," he said.

"Um, good morning?" Ginny replied, giving him a quizzical look. God, this is awkward. "So, um, yeah." It was all she could manage.

"I know," the man replied, sitting up and getting out of the bed.

"Yeah," Ginny repeated. "Just to be sure, we, uh, we didn't--" She didn't quite know how to finish the question. But he understood her well enough.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not that you didn't try," he added with a laugh. Her jaw dropped. "Not to make you think I tried to take advantage or found you unattractive or anything, 'cause you're definitely attractive…" His was rambling now, and Ginny found herself getting annoyed. "Do you remember anything?"

Ginny shook her head. "Nothing at all."

"Well, anyway, you were quite a bit drunk by the end of the night, and your sister, well, you sister was very into my friend, and suggested we come back here. They immediately disappeared into her room, I'm assuming, and we started out watching television in the living room, and then, well, let's just say you, well, in all honesty, you basically attacked me. One thing led to another and we ended up here, where you passed out before any real damage was done."

"Thank you, God!"

"What was that?"

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude. But, it's just that, I don't even know your name." The man laughed.

"It's Mitchell. Mitchell Edmund."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Jenny. And again, I didn't mean to sound so rude. But, it's not every day I wake up half naked, next to a man I don't even remember. And, well, I kind of have a boyfriend back home."

"I understand. It's no problem at all. Sorry if I scared you, but when I tried to go sleep on the couch, well, I wasn't met with a pretty sight, and Marcus had the car keys. But, nothing happened, I swear on my life."

"I believe you. However, if you don't mind, I think I'm gonna ask you to leave now."

"Yeah, totally. Again, nice meeting you."

"Yeah. Bye." And with that, Mitchell turned and left her room and Ginny groaned and let herself fall back onto the pillow.

LATER that afternoon, Ginny pulled herself out of her bed, her hangover finally allowing her to think straight. She threw on some clothes and made her way to the living room, where she found and disgruntled looking Abby sitting on the floor. Ginny failed to notice the letter in her hands.

"Bad night?" Ginny inquired.

"The worst."

"Was he that bad?"

"Oh, yeah," Abby grumbled. "How about yours?"

"Come on, Abby. You know me better than that."

"So, you didn't sleep with him?" Ginny shook her head. "I shoulda known. But, I have good news." Ginny gave her a quizzical look and Abby waved the letter into the air.

"What's that?"

"We're going back."

"Back?"

"Ginny, it's time to go home!"

VIDEO games had become Harry Potter's life. And who could blame him really? After spending half of his life being locked in the his cupboard, and then his bedroom, at the Dursley's, Harry had never been allowed any sort of entertainment. When he started at Hogwarts, the magical world didn't need the game consoles and movies that muggles lived for, and even if they had, being the target of an evil Dark Lord didn't leave much free time. But, now, now that Harry was living in Japan, home to virtually every video game imagined, how could he not help but become consumed?

If asked, Harry wouldn't deny that he missed his old life. Not the Voldemort part, of course, but the Weasley's and Hermione Granger-- the only family he had ever known. And much as he would give to apologize to the youngest Weasley, Ginny, and beg for her forgiveness, it seemed so much easier to disappear into the newest releases. Four years had passed quickly for the hero of the Wizarding World. After all, four years in video game time was nothing. Besides, he had spent almost eight months of those four years in a coma in a small room in St. Mungo's. His life was turned upside down when he woke up and was told that he had missed eight months of his life. And better yet, that he had to go into hiding. Yes, video games were quite the alternative.

"Honey, I'm home!" A voice called from the foyer, and Harry laughed. His Secret Keeper, and partner in crime when it came to the video games, Richard Matthews was supposed to have the newest release of some action game he insisted was the greatest.

"Very funny. Did you get it?" Harry asked, as Richard walked into the room.

"Yes. But, I have better news."

"How many game releases were this week?"

"Not that, you idiot." Richard laughed. "I got an owl this morning."

"Okay, and that interests me how?"

"Fine, fine, I see you don't care." He turned to leave the room and Harry rolled his eyes.

"All right, I give in. What's the good news?"

"Draco Malfoy was caught three days ago, hiding out in South America."

Harry's heart began to pound. "You mean…"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I mean. You better brush up on your groveling skills, 'cause we're leaving tomorrow. Hmm, I wonder if there's a video game that'll teach you to beg."

"Sod off," Harry muttered, as his head began to spin. He couldn't believe it. He was going to go back to England. Naturally, he knew the day would come some time, but after so much time had come and gone, Harry thought he would have at least a few more years to prepare. Tomorrow was too soon. He needed to lie down. Or a strong drink and a cigarette.

QUIDDITCH would always be his first love, aside from Hermione Granger, of course, but there was something about being in the water that got Ronald Weasley's heart racing. And the surf in Australia was absolutely perfect all year long. In fact, Ron had spent the last four years with his best mate, Nick Rey, surfing during the day and hooking up with the girls at night. Ron wasn't exactly proud of the hooking up with girls part, but after all, he had told himself, he was a man, and a man had needs.

When Ron had left England, he had made a promise to Hermione, the love of his life, that one day they would finally start their lives together. But, with each day that passed, that possibility faded more and more, and Hermione seemed farther and farther away. Ron had tried to stay true for two years, but after one long, liquor filled night, he found himself in bed with a very good looking blonde. And from there, Ron had let himself fall into the world of one night stands, but never once did he see the same girl twice, nor form any sort of relationship.

Ron lifted his board from the wall, ready for another day in the water. He hadn't seen Nick all morning, and assumed that he had gotten an earlier start and was already riding the waves. But less than five minutes later, as Ron was making his way down to the shore, he heard Nick yelling his name from the back porch.

"Ron! Ron, wait up!"

Ron stopped and waited as Nick ran to him.

"Hey," Ron said, "I thought you were already down there. Where have you been?"

"In London."

"In London?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, no surf today, mate. You're going home in an hour."

"I'm what?"

"Going home, mate. Remember? To the-- uh, what do you call it? The Bungalow?"

"The Burrow."

"Yeah, the Burrow. Minister of Magic himself sent the letter this morning, and I had to go check it out for myself. And, yeah, it's all cleared. Time to go back and start that life you promised your girl."

"Yeah," Ron muttered. "Yeah, time to go home to Hermione." He smiled, already

excited at the prospect. He was going home.

END AUTHOR'S NOTE Please review. Even if it's to say "Hey, I'm reading your story." I just want to know that the amount of hits my story has received is for real.