The wand came out of his pocket, into his duffel. Next were the robes, thrown over the back of the chair haphazardly; he didn't need them any more. He loosened his tie (red and gold) and pulled of the shirt and sweater bearing the lion crest one last time. Pulling on a pair of jeans, he reached for a shirt. The worn cotton settled over his shoulders, like a blessing and a curse.
Next came the glasses. He slipped them off his nose, and into a side pocket of his bag. He took out the contacts, and looked at his face in the mirror. His eyes once again stared back. As he was scrubbing off the make-up, he paused. The scar sat there, just above his right eye, like it had for the last many years. He was consumed by a wave of sadness, but scrubbed it away none-the-less. He combed his hair, raking the brush through the snarls.
Lastly, he pulled on his sneakers, stuffing the rest of his belongings into the bag. Throwing the duffel over his shoulder, he took one last look around the small, bare room. Walking out, the door with the gold nameplate stared at his retreating back.
The place was oddly quiet; floors were swept, everything back in its no-longer-needed places. Few people were around.
He met them by the back door; together as always. Her hair was no longer bushy, his was still red but tamer. Their eyes were brown again, hers slightly red-rimmed. His voice cracked when he spoke.
"That's it then. It's over." A few tears dripped down her face, and even he felt a little choked up.
"Yes. I guess it is." They all turned and took one last look, eyes following familiar corridors, well-known doors.
Surprisingly, she took charge. "There's no sense in hanging about." She stated in a firm voice. "We might as well get going."
And so, they linked arms. They opened the door, and strode out into the dusk, into a world of people, all Muggles, them included. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger faded into the past, and Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, and Emma Watson left behind the magical world of Hogwarts and entered into the rest of their lives.
They left behind a legacy. Not of fame and stardom, but of friendship and loyalty that will shine on into all of our lives.
From a window not too far away, J.K Rowling watched the Golden Trio walk arm and arm through the streets of London, twirling her wand between her fingers, smiling a smile of one who knows something very secret. With a wave, she sent golden sparks streaming into the sky, forming two entwined letters in the sky.
Then, smiling, she turned to the young man standing in her doorway.
"Do you think we should ever tell them?" She asked.
"No." He answered, round framed glasses glinting in the lamplight. "But, thank you for telling my story. They may not think it true, but you and I know the difference."
"Yes." She said. "Now, don't you think you should be getting home?"
The man took out an unusual watch, and started slightly. "Merlin, Ginny's going to kill me!" He turned for the fireplace. "Until next time, Rowling."
She only smiled, and he took a pinch of green powder from the fireplace mantel, and twirled away in a flash of green fire.
"Until next time, Cousin Harry."