The silence of Hogwarts seemed heavier by the day. Harry, once the center of everything, now wandered the halls invisible, a shadow of his former self. His name, once whispered with respect and admiration, was now mentioned only with curiosity or contempt. "The boy who lost his magic," they said. And to Harry, that was worse than any curse.
Neither Hermione nor Ron made any effort to spend time with him anymore. If they did cross paths with Harry, it was by chance. The excuses were always ready: "Sorry, Harry, I have to study" or "Quidditch is eating me up." The truth was clear. He no longer belonged there.
One cold night, lying in his bed in Gryffindor Tower, Harry decided it was time. If no one wanted him there anymore, he would leave. There was no point in lingering in a world that had abandoned him. He got up silently and looked around the dormitory. Ron's belongings were scattered everywhere, but Harry knew that one way or another, his friend wouldn't even notice he was leaving.
Quietly, Harry began to gather his things. There wasn't much he wanted to take with him—just his Invisibility Cloak, his broken wand (still a symbol of who he had been), and a small bag with a few Galleons. The plan was simple: he would leave Hogwarts forever, go to Gringotts, cash out everything he owned, and finally leave the wizarding world behind.
That early morning, before sunrise, Harry walked down the Gryffindor staircase and out the doors of Hogwarts. He didn't look back. The morning chill bit his face as he walked down to Hogsmeade and from there, Apparated straight to Diagon Alley. The few wizards who were awake at that hour paid him no attention. Inside Gringotts, the lobby was silent and imposing, with only a few goblins moving quickly back and forth.
As he approached the counter, the goblin in charge looked at him with piercing, disdainful eyes.
"I need to remove all the contents of my vault," Harry said bluntly.
"Name?" the goblin asked in a monotone.
"Harry Potter."
The goblin frowned, recognizing the name immediately. Without saying a word, he gestured and another goblin came to guide him to the vault. The cart that was moving down the tracks rocked violently, but Harry was oblivious to everything, lost in his thoughts. He thought about what would come next, about the world outside, about what he would do when he was free of the wizarding world.
When they reached the vault, the goblin opened the large metal door, revealing the vast fortune that had been accumulated inside. Harry stood there for a moment, staring at the piles of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts that filled the space. He had never really cared about the money he had inherited from his parents, but now, seeing this fortune, he knew it could be the key to his new beginning.
"I want it all in pounds sterling," Harry said suddenly, looking at the goblin.
The goblin raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but didn't ask any questions. "It will take a while," he murmured. "Exchanging Galleons for pounds in large quantities is a complex process. Have a seat." Harry nodded, feeling the tension ease a little. No matter how long it took, he had made up his mind. The wizarding world would be left behind.
After a while, the goblins finished the exchange. Harry looked at the numbers and felt a slight shock as he realized how rich he really was. The amounts of Galleons he had always ignored had turned into a veritable fortune in pounds sterling. Harry Potter was now a millionaire in the Muggle world.
Back in the real world, Harry apparated to London and, after some searching, found a currency exchange office on the Muggle side where he completed the necessary transactions. Now with a full account and the possibilities before him, he bought a house in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the city. His new home, modern and luxurious, was everything he needed: spacious, away from the eyes of the magical world, and with total privacy.
The first days of his new life were strange. Free from magic, Harry found himself immersed in the Muggle world in a way he had never experienced before. He was no longer the "boy who lived", nor the "chosen one", nor the "hero". He was just Harry. And, in a way, that calmed him.
But Harry knew he would need something more to fill the void that his old life had left. And that was when he began training. He hired private trainers to teach him self-defense, started going to the gym regularly, and slowly began rebuilding his body and mind. Physical discipline became a kind of refuge for him, something he could control and improve without the help of magic. With each punch, each exercise, he felt stronger, more focused.
In addition, he began to take an interest in weapons. The Muggle world, for to his surprise, it offered defenses that were as effective as spells. Harry enrolled in shooting lessons and dedicated himself to learning everything about firearms. He practiced target practice daily, and soon became a skilled marksman. The precision and control required to handle weapons fascinated him. It was a different kind of power, simpler, more direct.
With each passing day, Harry became more distant from the boy he had once been. He no longer needed the wand he carried in his pocket as a memento. The magic that had once defined everything in his life was now just a memory. He was creating a new self, based on skills that the Muggle world could offer.
At the end of a long day of training, Harry looked into the mirror in his new home. His reflection stared back at him—stronger, more confident, more prepared. The boy who had lived was finally ready to live on his own, without relying on magic, without relying on an imposed destiny. He smiled, not because he was happy, but because he was determined.
Harry Potter had left the wizarding world behind. And now, he was ready for whatever challenges the future brought.