It would be at the end of the scholastic year that a scarcely noticeable event would occur. Sitting at the end of the Gryffindor dining table, Jackson Valentine, stood up from his seat, picked up his luggage, and walked out of the Great Hall.

He passed his former adversary, @Rafael D'Spacito, his constant and perhaps only friend, @Evelynn Decipio, smiling at some jest or remembrance of times past. He strode down the halls, where he had pursued @Howard White on the night of his rage, past the library where @Kazuo Shimada and he had sat down to trade insights, past the pair of Knight Statues who guarded the gates eternally. Out in the courtyard, his fellow students made no notice of his passing, so intent on their own lives that they hardly remembered he was there.

Across the bridge he walked, striding toward the train station where those who weren't staying for the Summer Camp would be. He passed them, smelling the aroma of chocolate frogs, and hearing the merrymaking of children wallowing in their innocence. Up the stairs into the metal carriage that he now treated with cautious reverence. Valentine saw life carry on in all of its vibrancy as he cast his gaze out the window, bloodshot eyes crinkling with unspoken regret. All his friends had stayed behind for the camp. But there was no way he was spending one more sleepless night in this hellish expanse. It seemed his bubble had finally busted, his tolerance at its end. Out the boundaries of Hogsmeade, he went, down the well-worn track, as vehicles drove past, carts rumbled through, and a steady stream of individuals to and fro added their character to the town.

Soon the scenery changed to fields, being tended to by men and women, sowing seeds or tilling the land. Children ran behind them, beating drums and yelling gleefully to scare off the greedy crows overhead. He saw sheep and goats grazing peacefully, overlooked by shepherds playing a simple melody on their harmonicas. In the distance, great windmills dotted the landscape, and wagons of freshly ground corn and meal were carted off from them by farmers, and he could sense the distinct sweetness of freshly baked pies.

The land then became cold, civilized. The modern engines of a metropolitan society began to charge into his view. Every town, every village, every city, every settlement was connected, office workers and blue-collars, children and elderly. In the distance was the Tower of London in all of its glory, center of the British Monarchy, appearing as if its trials and tribulations had never taken place. Wherever he looked, he could see the strength of his fellow humans, overcoming the limited problems they had been presented with. Enemies lurked everywhere, and the darkest of creatures were always scheming, but together the muggles lived in blissful ignorance. Valentine's gaze fell to his calloused hands, once soft and tender, now branded by fire. His year abroad had shown him things he wished he had never seen. Ever since that night on the Astronomy Tower, he had been disquieted, and his spirit had never once found peace.

For the peace that he sought was unattainable. It could only be achieved by those willing to fight for it, and in that fight, he had been alone. He was always, invariably and inevitably alone. What good was the willpower of a scrawny twelve-year-old boy against the forces of evil in this world? He only had one final journey to make, but where it would take him, he didn't know. As he exited the train, behind him rose the edge of his universe, a world of promise that was all but shattered. He had no home left to go to. Hogwarts wasn't safe, and neither was the misinformed judgment of his muggle father. With his back to King's Cross Station, and without a backward glance, he strode toward his final destiny.

And thus, Jackson Valentine was never seen again.