Romilda Vane sat on a bench in Muggle London. She was wearing a thin, maroon sweater and faded, bulky jeans. A brown purse was slung over her shoulder. Her shining black hair was obscured in a black hat. Romilda was staring at the wall of a building across the street. This particular wall happened to belong to a Muggle bank. Busy people darted in and out of its doors. No one spared a passing glance at Romilda. She sighed. She knew what she had to do.
Romilda got up from the bench and crossed the street. She took a deep breath and stepped through the bank's door. It was cool inside; the air conditioner blew into her face annoyingly. She approached the teller's counter and explained to him that she wanted to withdraw money. He nodded and performed the procedure. Romilda was silent. Finally, the teller handed her the bills. Romilda had no trouble counting and recognizing them. This bothered her. She tucked them in her purse and left.
Romilda Vane was a Muggle. A few years after she left Hogwarts, her magic simply stopped working. Her wand would do nothing. She had gone to St. Mungo's and the Ministry, but no one knew how to help her. It seemed that Hogwarts had been her "glory days". Now, her power had just extinguished itself. Romilda was banned from the magical world. At times, she would visit the place where she knew the Leaky Cauldron was. Romilda couldn't see it anymore. Sometimes, she went to King's Cross and leaned against the barrier that concealed Platform Nine and Three Quarters wishing she could enter. Romilda Vane lived a Muggle life, and it was only a matter of time before she forgot everything. She hurried through the dirty streets of London, tears streaming down her cheeks.