The room was bare. An old saggy bed in one corner, a wardrobe with the doors barely holding on by the hinges, was the only furniture. Nothing remained that mattered. Doubtless the Dursley's would have a bonfire and burn both the bed and the wardrobe, just in case he had "contaminated" them. As if magic was catching.
He stood just out side the door looking at the room in which he had spent the last 5 summer's, on one wall he could just make out the marks he had made while counting down the days until he could rejoin his friends or go to school, to go to his true home.
At his feet he had all his worldly possessions. His trunk wouldn't have appeared out of place in an antique store. Inside he had all his overlarge ugly clothes, all his school books, his photo album, his school supplies and his invisibility cloak. He also had an empty cage, a cauldron and a broom. Not much, especially in comparison to some people. He turned and looked at the closed doors, they never cared for him, they never treated him well, the most expensive thing they ever gave him was a pair of old socks. But they did protect him, they did shelter him. He would forget about them. This life was finished.
Quietly, he cast a spell. His first legal spell out of Hogwarts, the classic "wingardium leviosa". He descended the stairs, his belongings bobbing behind him. At the bottom of the stairs he stopped, as if to turn, and then he continued walking. He had said good bye to the cupboard under the stairs long ago.
Another whispered spell and he was out of the house. Outside it was dark; all of the street lamps were unlit, similar to when he had first arrived, though he didn't remember that. In the dark there were two figures.
"Happy Birthday Harry" said one, Hermoine, softly.
"Ready Harry?" said the other, Ron.
"Yes"
He was leaving for good now, not to go to his true home, but to save the world, his world.