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This story will crossover with many other series, including NCIS, NCIS LA, NCIS HAWAII, Seal Team, Hawaii Five-0, among others, as well as mixing real-life people into the story

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Harry's final year at Hogwarts began like all the others, but with a different feeling in the air. He still bore the scars of his battle against Voldemort, but also the weight of being the "Savior of the Wizarding World." Although peace had returned to the magical world, Harry did not feel at peace. Something was wrong, a restlessness he could not explain.

The days seemed harder, his spells less effective. Even the simplest spells, like Lumos, required a disproportionate amount of effort. But he ignored it, assuming that perhaps it was just tiredness or the pressure of insane expectations. Hermione and Ron were always busy with their own commitments, Hermione with her studies and post-war projects, and Ron, divided between working at the twins' shop and training for the Quidditch team. The brief conversations they had became more spaced out and empty.

One particularly cold morning, during a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, the professor asked the students to practice the Disarming Charm. Harry pointed his wand forward, as he always did. "Expelliarmus!" he said firmly, but nothing happened. The silence in the Hall was deafening. He tried again, harder, feeling sweat forming on his forehead. The spell failed again. His classmates looked in his direction, murmuring among themselves. Hermione gave him a curious look, while Ron shifted uncomfortably. 

"Is something wrong, Potter?" the professor asked, his voice tinged with impatience. 

"I... I don't know," Harry muttered. "Let me try again." He pointed his wand a third time, but it was useless. 

At that moment, something inside him seemed to snap. He knew something was wrong, but he didn't dare believe it. He, Harry Potter, the boy who defeated Voldemort, could not cast a simple spell.

The next few days were a nightmare. He tried desperately to practice spells on his own, but magic seemed to have abandoned him. In a world where magic was everything, Harry became nothing. His wand, once an extension of his very soul, now seemed like a simple piece of wood. With each failed attempt, anxiety turned to fear, and fear to despair.

Hermione and Ron tried to support him at first. "It must just be stress, Harry," Hermione said, as she looked through old books. "It could be temporary. We'll find a solution."

But as the weeks passed, and classes became more intense, the two began to drift apart. Hermione became more involved in her studies, unable to deal with the unsolved mystery. Ron, on the other hand, avoided the subject, perhaps uncomfortable with the idea that the "Great Harry Potter" might actually be failing. He threw himself into Quidditch and games with his brothers, leaving Harry on the sidelines.

Harry felt his loneliness growing. In the corridors of Hogwarts, people whispered as he passed. No longer the hero, but a pathetic curiosity. The boy who lived... and lost his magic. He could see the mixture of pity and fear on their faces. No one dared to say anything, but he knew what they were thinking. "What is Harry Potter without magic?"

Even the teachers began to treat him with a wary distance. McGonagall, though kind, seemed at a loss for how to help. Snape... well, Snape was dead, but Harry had a feeling that if he were alive, he would have some scathing comment to make.

The worst thing, however, was the feeling of betrayal. He looked at Ron and Hermione, the two pillars who had always been by his side, and saw the distance growing. In the common room, they laughed together while he stood alone in a corner. The apologies became more frequent, the encounters less frequent. They had abandoned him, without even realizing it. Maybe it was selfishness, maybe it was fear of facing the fact that the world could change so drastically, but the result was the same. Harry was alone.

One day, Harry tried to confront them. "I know something's wrong with me," he began, trying to keep his voice steady as he looked at Hermione and Ron. "I know I'm not the same. But… you two are drifting apart. I… I need you right now."

Hermione bit her lip nervously. "Harry, I… I have a lot going on right now. The N.E.W.T.s are coming, and I'm trying to figure it all out, but I don't know how to help you either."

Ron, hands in his pockets, looked down at the floor. "It's just… it's hard, you know? We're your friends, sure, but… what do you want us to do? You're not… functioning like you used to."

These words echoed in Harry's mind. "You're not functioning." He was no longer the "Harry Potter" everyone knew, and perhaps he never would be again.

That night, he walked up to the Astronomy Tower, the cold autumn wind blowing against his face. He looked out at the horizon, remembering all the battles he had fought, every time he had gotten up, even when the world seemed to fall around him. But now... now he was falling, and there was no one to catch him.

He was no longer the Savior. He was no longer the Chosen One. He was no longer... magical.