Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but bits of the plotline.

As in any perfectly normal neighborhood, the lights in every house were out by 12:00. It was a weeknight, after all. The very normal street was dark but for the small amount of light given off by the streetlamps. And one upstairs window, in which three figures were silhouetted against the window, and had been there for some time.

It was a cool night on Privet Drive, and Vernon and Petunia Dursley were both tossing and turning in their bed, trying to forget the three extra residents of their house, and what was going on in the bedroom just a few feet down the hall from them. The loud snoring that usually came from Dudley’s room was absent; he too was having trouble sleeping over the sound coming from the small upstairs bedroom. It wasn’t a particularly loud conversation, but being the only sound on the entire street gave it some volume.

Dudley pulled a pillow over his head, trying to ignore it.

“So, our first order of business—”

“Order of business?” said one of the occupants of the room disbelievingly. “There are three of us in this room, Hermione. It’s not any kind of official meeting.” Despite this reprimand, he looked at the first speaker affectionately.

“That may be, Ronald,” said Hermione Granger primly, tucking a strand of bushy brown hair behind her ear. “That doesn’t mean we can’t act like more than complete amateurs all the time.”

Ron laughed quietly. “Fine, then. Continue,” he said, gesturing at her.

Hermione looked back down at the list she had made. “The first thing we need to do,” she said, glancing at Ron, “Is train. All of us, not just you, Harry. Yes, we know about the prophecy,” she said as the third occupant of the room began to say something, “But we’re going to meet Death Eaters on the way. You know we will.”

The third occupant leaned back, sighed, and rubbed his forehead. “But Dumbledore said it himself, Hermione, Voldemort is an amazing dueler, even without his Horcruxes.” By far the most subdued of the three, Harry Potter glanced around the room to avoid looking at his friends.

The fourth bedroom on Number Four, Privet Drive was a far cry from what it had been when Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived. Although Harry was still not legally allowed to do magic, Hermione, after seeing the room, had immediately set about expanding it and transfiguring Harry’s bed into a much nicer four-poster, reminding him of his Hogwarts dormitory. Hermione had also managed to transfigure two of Dudley’s old toys, still gaining dust on the shelves, into cots for her and Ron. Ron had set about shooting jets of paint out of his wand with a spell Hermione had looked up, and now the walls were a bright shade of red. While Hermione handled the harder spellwork, Ron had also vanished the old, creaking shelves and toys cluttering the room and successfully managed to conjure bedsheets for the three of them.

It was certainly much nicer than it had been to start with, but Harry was still counting down the hours until he could leave the house. He was determined to remain true to Dumbledore’s last wishes, but it was hard when he had to see the Dursleys every day.

“Harry?”

He jerked out of his reverie and glanced at Hermione sheepishly. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“All right,” she said gently, and Harry wondered what Hermione thought he had been thinking about. Probably Ginny. He had thought about her a fair amount in the past few days, but hadn’t changed his decision regarding her. She would be safer away from him.

They had both been rather subdued and awkward on the train ride home. She hadn’t been sad, or depressed, by any means; she had told him point blank that she had waited for him before, and she was still not giving up on him now.

“I was just going to show you this list. The first thing we need to do, of course, is find the Horcruxes and destroy them.” Harry nodded. “But Harry…we don’t actually know how. Dumbledore never showed you how to destroy a Horcrux.”

“And I don’t fancy my hands looking like Dumbledore’s did,” Ron put in. Harry winced, as he did each time he heard Professor Dumbledore’s name. He had thought he was all right after the funeral, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about the old headmaster.

“But before we go searching for them we need training, like I said,” continued Hermione. “We can do it like we did before the Triwizard tournament, finding new jinxes and learning them ourselves.”

“Death Eaters will know better spells than the ones in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6, Hermione,” said Harry bitingly.

She ignored the tone of voice, though Ron looked at Harry warningly. “That’s why we’re going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. We could pick up some advanced spellbooks. And I want to make a trip into Muggle London.”

Harry shrugged. “Even if we do, I have more than a month until I can do magic, Hermione. What am I supposed to do until then?”

“You could write a letter,” suggested Ron, earning a snort from Harry.

“To who?” Harry said. “Scrimgeour? ‘Would you mind if I did underage wizardry?’ sure. He’d probably want me to do something in return, like—” He couldn’t think of anything appropriate to Scrimgeour. He sighed and picked up the Daily Prophet. It was still covering the death of Albus Dumbledore and the funeral, as if three days worth of newspapers hadn’t been enough already. Today’s headline confirmed Minerva McGonagall as new Headmistress.

“We’ll figure something out tomorrow,” said Hermione. Ron yawned loudly. “We should get to sleep.”

Harry shrugged again. He didn’t really care about much at the moment.

The world was still reeling from the loss of Albus Dumbledore. Minerva McGonagall had reeled, too, for two nights. But she had realized that life went on. Besides which, it wasn’t as if Albus was gone forever. She was having a conversation with him right now, in fact.

She hadn’t changed the head’s office at Hogwarts much. Some of the small silver instruments had been moved to a secure location until someone who knew how to use them appeared. Albus’s portrait continued to be rather secretive about them.

“Harry is still at Privet Drive,” Minerva reported, and the portrait nodded its head quietly. “He took Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger with him.”

“And how did Molly react to that?” asked the portrait, smiling.

“Nastily,” said Minerva, recalling the scene on Platform Nine and Three Quarters less than a week ago. “And they haven’t even broken to her their intentions regarding the search.”

She had learned about that quite by accident, when she overhead Potter, Weasley and Granger conversing quietly at the funeral about what the mysterious final Horcrux could be.

She had been disappointed by their decision not to come back to Hogwarts, although not entirely surprised. She had known that, once Potter knew about the Horcruxes, no one would be able to keep him, or his friends, out of the search, not even Molly Weasley.

“Do you think you made the right choice regarding Severus?” she asked the portrait softly. She hadn’t gotten up the courage to ask the question before, though she had been longing to know.

She was one of the few Order members to know about Albus and Severus’ plan. She had been stunned at the thought of Severus making an Unbreakable Vow to kill or help kill Albus, and even more stunned at Albus agreeing to it. Although his theory of putting Severus in a perfect position to help the light side, as one of Voldemort’s now most trusted advisors, she couldn’t understand why Albus had been so willing to give up his life.

“I do, Minerva,” said Albus gently. “And if Severus ever comes back to the school in need of help, I would be grateful if you could give it to him.”

She had to keep from snorting at that—there was no way that Severus Snape would ever come to anyone for help—but underlying this, she was disappointed at the undetailed answer.

“And Alastor was elected head of the Order in your absence,” Minerva changed the subject. “He’s scheduled several emergency meetings regarding the wards around Grimmauld Place. Several have collapsed without you. And we need a new secret keeper.” It was a measure of her own self-control that she could speak of this without wincing. “I volunteered myself, of course, but I believe Moody intends to choose Kingsley.”

Most heads of Hogwarts consulted the portraits for not much more than certain decisions regarding students, or what was going on in their other frames. Albus would certainly be useful for that, she thought wryly.

Portraits of Albus had gone up in various places all over London. He seemed to have made generous donations to a huge number of Wizarding foundations or corporations, and consequently had portraits put up in places such as St Mungo’s, Gringotts, and several levels in the Ministry.

In any case, Minerva was determined to keep Albus up-to-date on anything regarding the Order or Voldemort, at least until the war was over. She knew Albus’ portrait wanted to keep up just as much as she wanted him to, but it was difficult to remember to tell him everything.

“And the wedding?” Albus smiled. “How are preparations?”

“Oh, Mr. Weasley is nearly recovered from his wounds. They’ll just have to make sure to have Steak Tartare as part of the menu. Miss Delacour is frantic, of course. The brides always are.” She recalled something Molly had told her at the meeting last night. “I believe Ginny is a bit restless, though. She may do something drastic without those three around.”

“Let her, Minerva. She can do nothing but good for Mr. Potter.”

She sighed and went back to the paperwork. It seemed that there were thousands of things she needed to sign in order to secure the job of Head of Hogwarts. She wasn’t entirely sure just how many people would be sending their children to Hogwarts this year, with Albus gone. She only hoped she could provide for the few who did.

Harry groaned. Why was Professor Snape yelling at him? It wasn’t even the school year, he had no right…

“Potter!”

He jerked awake, remembering who else lately called him ‘Potter’. After the verbal intimidation Uncle Vernon had suffered by a nearly six-foot tall Ron and a wand-bearing Hermione, he had moved away from Harry’s traditional title of ‘boy’ and begun calling him by his surname. Harry had no problem with this, as it was what he was called by most of his professors at school, and being called ‘Harry’ by Uncle Vernon would be somewhat disturbing.

He tumbled out of bed and shoved his glasses onto his face, noting that he had forgotten to change clothes for bed last night and was garbed in wrinkled clothing from yesterday. It would have to do; Uncle Vernon was still yelling.

He took a peek down the stairs before walking down. Vernon could yell a little longer. Harry didn’t care much about his demands. But what he saw in the entrance of Number Four shocked him awake.

“Ginny?”

She looked up to see him taking the stairs down three at a time. “Hey, Potter.” She smiled, glancing at Uncle Vernon. She was dressed simply in a white blouse and jean skirt. Harry couldn’t help being impressed with her ability to choose appropriate muggle clothing, considering what the rest of her family were like.

“Gin, what are you doing here?” said Harry, noting her trunk sitting on the carpet behind her. He began to feel slightly worried. “We’ll be back at your place in a week and a half—”

“I couldn’t wait that long, Harry,” interrupted Ginny. Her eyes were bright. “You should see it back there. Everyone moping over Dumbledore, then moping over Bill, then turning around and doing these frantic preparations for the wedding…you should see Phlegm, she won’t shut her—”

“Ginny?”

Ron had appeared at the top of the stairs, Hermione at his shoulder. Both were looking shocked. “How did you get here?”

“The Knight Bus,” said Ginny, shrugging. “I left Mum a note. They’ll understand.”

“Wait, Gin,” said Ron. Harry prepared himself for the explosion. “You want to live here with us now?”

Uncle Vernon was turning purple, and Harry glanced at him. “You have a problem?” he said quietly.

Uncle Vernon shook his head mutely, and then walked into the kitchen where, Harry presumed, he would be opening a bottle of the Muggle equivalent of Firewhisky. Ginny giggled.

“I don’t think you get this, Ginny,” said Ron, his ears reddening. “You just came here? You could have been attacked along the way, you know. Your note could have gotten lost, and Mum and Dad wouldn’t know where you had gone. They might think you got kidnapped!” his voice rose. “Is it all so you can get to Harry? You two split up, and we’re leaving after the wedding anyway!”

Ginny stepped toward Ron menacingly. “Yes, it is all about Harry, Ron! Of course I want to be near him! I know we broke up, but thanks for reminding me! Harry needs all the support he can get! I know what the prophecy says, Ron! I was there when he told you, remember?” she turned away from Ron and looked at Harry somewhat apprehensively, Harry thought. “If you don’t want me here, Harry, I’ll leave. But I’m a target too, whether we’re going out or not. I just want to help.”

“No, Ginny, of course I want you here—” said Harry helplessly. “I guess you can stay, but not forever, I mean, you heard Ron, we’re leaving after the funeral.”

Ginny’s eyes sharpened. “I’m not going to ask right now, but I’m going to find out why, Harry. And I’m going to help, and don’t try to stop me.” She looked back at the stairs, where Ron and Hermione still stood. “Do you have an extra bed, Hermione? Maybe you could share one with my brother.”

“Don’t push it,” warned Ron, though Harry noticed his blush, as well as Hermione’s. “If Harry says you can stay, you can. He’s the leader here. But you’re still my sister.”

“So? You’re still afraid of spiders.”

Ron glared, but Ginny had turned back to Harry. “So where do you live in this house?”

Harry grinned and showed her up the stairs.

Despite Ginny settling in, the trio refused to delay their plans to go to Diagon Alley. Hermione would have been side-along Apparating Harry, since Ron was likely incapable, but Ginny’s presence complicated matters. It was eventually decided that they would go to Arabella Figg’s and floo. This was decided with much glaring at Ginny from Ron.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure just why she had come. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have other friends she could have gone and stayed with, with Molly’s blessing. Mrs. Weasley had been hard to convince in the beginning that Ron should be able to stay. He remembered the day they had gotten of the Hogwarts Express to greet the parents and Order members.

The train pulled into the station, and Harry’s heart jolted at seeing the crowd on the platform. Every single person was dressed in black. It was a dreadful reminder of Dumbledore’s recent death, and the deaths of so many others that year.

Molly was standing on the far side of the platform along with Arthur, Fred and George, who were talking to a pink-haired Tonks. As soon as they stepped off the train, Molly, who had obviously been searching the crowd for them, rushed forward, engulfing Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny in hugs, two at a time. When she stepped back, Harry was shocked to see tear-tracks on her cheeks.

“The wedding is on the Twelfth,” she said, seemingly unaware of what she looked like. “Harry, I don’t know where you’re staying—I’m sure with Dumbledore,” she gulped, “gone, you don’t have to go back to those muggles, but you must be there for the wedding. Ron, Ginny, you’re at the Burrow, and Hermione, you’re always welcome—”

“Mum,” said Ron awkwardly. “We’re…we’re going with Harry.”

“What?” said Molly, halting in mid-rant.

“I’m going back to the Dursleys for a week, Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry quickly. “Ron and Hermione…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“We’re going with him,” repeated Ron. “To the muggles. He can’t go back there alone. I won’t let him.”

“Why go there at all?” said Molly, her voice going deadly quiet, the way it always did before the explosion.

“The blood protection still works, wherever Dumbledore is,” said Harry carefully. “He asked me to—to go back. I’m just going to go back for a week, Mrs. Weasley. Can Ron and Hermione please come?”

Mrs’ Weasley frowned at her son, and Hermione, who was now leaning against Ron. “I see no reason for you to go, Ron. Hermione, I can’t speak for you, but Harry, there is no reason for you to even go back to those…those people.”

“Harry just told you, mum. Dumbledore wanted him to go. And I’m of age now. I can go with him whether you want me to or not.”

Molly seemed to suddenly realize that Ron was of age, and switched to a new tactic. “Ronald, I will not having you terrorizing those muggles! Harry has survived with them for sixteen years—”

“Do you think he was enjoying himself, mum? I won’t terrorize them, but I don’t want them treating him like they always do!”

“You don’t even know how to live in a muggle house, in a muggle neighborhood! The Statute of Secrecy applies to you whether you’re of age or not!”

“I know how to be discreet!” said Ron, his ears reddening. “I’m not so stupid that I’ll just do magic in the middle of the street! I’m going, mum—” he began to drag his trunk toward the gateway. Molly rushed after him and Harry, Hermione and Ginny watched as they got into an intense, whispered argument. Seeing Molly whisper while still looking angry was a new phenomenon. To Harry, it seemed that Molly could even shout a whisper.

“Going to the muggles, are you?” said Ginny. She was looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Yeah,” said Harry, and looked away, not wanting to invite more conversation. “Do you have permission, Hermione? You two don’t have to—”

“Of course we do, Harry,” said Hermione flatly. “I’m not as unprepared as Ron. I wrote my parents a letter the day of the funeral. They know. They’ll be at the wedding. I think Ron convinced Bill to invite them.”

Harry looked back at Ron. The argument seemed to have ended. Both redheads had very red faces, but Ron was looking pleased, and as he reached them, he said, “let’s go.”

Harry’s last glimpse of the Weasley’s was of Ginny’s face, still bearing that expression.

Harry thought about it as they walked to Mrs. Figg’s house. Things were tense between Ginny and him right now. He hoped that he would eventually understand what she was thinking while she watched the argument.

A/N: Hope you're enjoying the story so you are looking for actual dimension-travel,sorry but isn't coming up until about chapter seven. Things need to be put in place first, and the first few chapters, are just bridging and getting things set. My plan is to update regularly, probably every friday. So please leave a review letting me know how you liked it.