Note: To those following Riders, I'm sorry for the delay, I've got about half of chapter four written, but I'm suffering from massive writer's block on that story. Anywhen, it'll be up soon, I hope. Enjoy!
Chapter One
Sirius Black stood on his own far away from the bustling crowds of students, teachers, and aurors returning home from the war. Home. What was that? Theoretically, it was a place one felt, well, at home. But he had never had such a place, not in the Wizarding world anyway. So, he had come to the conclusion that he would find such a place in the Muggle world.
He wore jeans and a sweater and a trench coat over them, since it was raining outside. He carried his trunk of belongings transfigured into a soft-sided suitcase. It was time to leave behind all his pain and suffering. He stepped through the barrier from platform nine and three-quarters, and off into his destiny…
Remus Lupin still sat on the train, exhausted from the strain of the war, and his last, and final transformation. Thanks to Potions Master Severus Snape, Remus Lupin would no longer fear the moon – he would no longer transform. Remus had to give the man credit, he knew what he was doing. The potion had been painful, but anything that rearranges one's DNA tends to be. He was now a normal human. Completely normal. His final transformation had taken place before the final dose of the potion, sapping his magic, and returning it to the earth. He was now a Squib.
He sighed. He supposed he had a better chance of getting a job in the Muggle world now, since there was no longer any danger to it. In the Wizarding world, he would be shunned. There were few jobs for those who had no magic, or, if they did, no control over it. Dumbledore, he supposed would have found something for him to do. He had for Filch and Hagrid, but as the old wizard had been one of the casualties of the war, there was next to no possibility of ever being received in the Wizarding world. Especially since he had been a werewolf.
He sighed again as he pulled his old Muggle jacket around him, and picked up his battered old suitcase. He calmly strolled from the train, the platform was empty. He set down his suitcase and took a moment to fish in his pockets for his cigarettes and book of matches. He lit one, threw away the match, then proceeded to follow his only road…
Draco Malfoy, Death Eater and spy for the Order of the Phoenix, stood alone, more aloof than usual. He had come to the conclusion that he had to leave the world of magic behind. It had caused him nothing but pain. No home to speak of, no real parents, it had simply been a gorgeous mansion for him to explore on his own, while his father kissed the boots of a sadistic half-blood, and his mother ran around to shops and planned parties. Perhaps the Muggle world would be more kind. After all, they had no preconceptions of name "Malfoy". They would not deny him a job because of the faded scar on his left forearm.
He sighed and transfigured his robe into a leather jacket. Just because he was going to live in the Muggle world didn't mean he couldn't do so in style. He took a deep breath and strode through the barrier to the Muggle world…
Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived-to-become-a-man, sat in an empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express and wept. He had faced Voldemort one final time, and lived to tell the tale, if he could speak, that is. After that encounter, no one could draw words from him. Madame Pomfery had preformed extensive injury searches on him, as had specialists from St. Mungo's. Nothing was wrong, they concluded. He was a selective mute. Maybe, one day, someone would be able to draw words from him, but it would be several years, time enough for him to heal from the wounds that had caused him to go silent.
He had studied sign language for years, doing volunteer work with the deaf after his seventeenth birthday. That had been four years ago, however, but he still recalled the unique form of communication. It might serve him well, in the Muggle world, he mused. There, I can pretend I am mute, and maybe deaf as well.
He pulled his trench coat around him, picked up his suitcase, and silently left the station…