Author note: Usual disclaimer about owning content. My first HP fanfic. I'd appreciate feedback. Please note that I am not trying to recapture a Rowling-esque style. I'm shamelessly exploiting her literary creations. Enjoy.
By all appearances, Harry Potter had settled into what, for many people in the wizarding world, seemed to be the job that was meant for him and would always be meant for him. That job was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Harry was the youngest Headmaster ever, having been chosen for the position just two years after completing his own schooling.
After the trials he passed through fighting and finally defeating Voldemort (whom people were just able to name by his proper name), many considered that he possessed all of the requisite skills for such a post. He had mastered some of the most complex spells known to magic. His acquaintance with the Dark Arts was unparalleled. He had, of course, witnessed the deaths of friends like Dumbledore and Ron Weasley. Surely that changed a person forever. Harry Potter, through all of his trials, had become not only strong, but wise.
All of the voices that voiced their opinions throughout the wizarding world could not be entirely wrong about Harry Potter. Surely there was some truth to the idea that Harry Potter was just the kind of exceptional person worthy of having such an exceptional honor bestowed on him. In fact, during his first year as Headmaster, he had even seemed like something of a natural, handling all of the complicated matters of running a complicated school like Hogwarts with intelligence, forbearance, even a touch of humor.
After that first year, however, Harry Potter vacated the position. But it wasn't just the fact that he vacated the position that shocked everyone who heard the news. What shocked people was that Harry Potter had disappeared completely. The wizarding world's brightest light had simply vanished.
Many people wondered if some spell had gone awry. Perhaps a portal had opened in an unexpected place. Perhaps a slightly more ferocious than anticipated demon had been summoned from the beyond. Some traumatized voices began to whisper of He-who-cannot-be-named and his Death Eaters again. Searches were conducted; elaborate inquires held. Disreputable practices that verged on being dangerous dark arts were performed. Despite the flurry of activity, however, no one could find Harry Potter.
A new Headmaster had to be found of course. The most likely candidate was Harry Potter's friend, Hermione Granger. Hermione, however, had buried herself away in a musty and obscure corner of the Ministry of Magic performing an even more musty and obscure job. She wanted to hear nothing of Headmasters and Hogwarts; and she certainly wanted to hear nothing of Harry Potter.
Finally, Draco Malfoy, who had since changed his name to Charles Fenix, having cast off that distinguished but disgusting name of Malfoy, was chosen for the job. The new Draco, or rather Charles, assumed the vacant post with an earnest feeling of loss over the former Headmaster who had become his friend and companion. Many people later said that he never shook off that melancholy look that characterized him in those early days.
Unlike Charles Fenix, however, the rest of the wizarding world soon forgot about Harry Potter and accepted his disappearance as a matter of course. Yes, everyone did what, only a year ago, had been unthinkable in consigning Harry Potter to some obscure part of their memory. Of course, it would be more precise to say that nearly everyone forgot about Harry Potter. One person did not and could not forget. This person was none other than Hermione Granger. She could never forgive Harry for his responsibility in Ron's death.
Not only was Hermione one of the few people who did not forget about Harry Potter, she was perhaps the only person who knew how to find him. She knew how to find him, not because she knew where he was, but because she could cast a spell to locate him by using the lock of his hair that she possessed. The lock was secreted away in Hermione's ramshackle flat on a ramshackle street in London. She had hidden what, after his disappearance, had become an invaluable article in an old Bible that her Muggle parents had given to her (Hermione knew that no right-minded wizard would ever open such a queer book as it had no runes, inscriptions, or spells cast on it; it was just a plain book with words that did not narrate themselves, create pictures as you read along, or any of the other gimmicks and gags that wizards used to distract them from the tedium of reading).
Hermione knew how to find Harry Potter but wouldn't do so until the time was right, until he had something she could take from him, just as he had taken from her. When that time came, she would cast her finding spell with the lock of hair. Harry Potter would not be able to run far enough away to escape the effects of such a spell.