Another life. Another identity.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Harriet Potter had turned her back on the realm of wands and whispers. The Wizarding World—once a beacon of wonder—had lifted her high, only to cast her down. They had taken a girl who had merely discovered the spark of magic within her soul, sung her praises as a savior, and then sought to break her spirit. Now, she would vanish from their sight and leave behind the ashes of a life betrayed.

The Goblins, ancient keepers of vaults and secrets, welcomed her with solemn respect. They had seen the truth—how the world of spellcasters had devoured its own champion. Griphook, wizened and sharp-eyed, revealed the hidden holdings of the Potter lineage and the means to access her wealth without ever setting foot in England again. All Harri needed was a destination. She chose a place from the scroll—a town cloaked in obscurity, unknown even to the stars. Perfect.

With the aid of the Goblins and Kreacher, the loyal house-elf of the Black bloodline, Harri gathered her tomes, relics, and essentials into a bottomless satchel enchanted to carry the weight of worlds. Her journey would begin with flight—by mortal means this time. She would soar to the land of Virginia, and from there, travel by carriage to the veiled town of Mystic Falls.

The flight itself was a strange enchantment. Harri had never known such mundane magic; the Dursleys had always left her behind, locking her in silence while they wandered. Yet she had cherished those moments of solitude, where healing could begin. Now, seated in the luxury of business class, she marveled at the sky beyond the glass. It was no broomstick ride, but it held its own kind of wonder. Her broom, of course, nestled safely within her bag, ready should the winds call her name.

As clouds drifted past, Harri's thoughts turned dark. She remembered the whispers—Hermione, Molly, Ronald—plotting like goblins over gold, waiting for her demise to claim her legacy. The betrayal stung like cursed fire. But Fred and George, twin flames of loyalty, had stood by her, their fury burning brighter than any wandlight. She had told the true-hearted Weasleys she would stay in touch by owl, and that her hearth would remain sealed to the Floo unless dire need arose. They had understood.

After the war, the Ministry—craven and corrupt—had sought to cage her, fearing she might rise as a Dark Lady. They were fools, cloaked in parchment and cowardice, trembling behind desks while spinning tales of dread. Harri saw through them, and so she fled—not in fear, but in defiance. She would carve a new path, far from their reach.

And so, here she was—Harriet Potter, once the girl who lived, now the woman who chose to disappear—riding a silver-winged vessel toward a life uncharted, a destiny of her own making.