He packed his whole life in an enchanted duffle bag, and left. His apartment seemed particularly empty. He sold all of his furniture, and put whatever he couldn't sell by the curb.
Okay. Now what? Where does he go next?
He found himself in Hogsmeade, by the gates of his old school. This was the last place he knew who he was; where he felt like he truly belonged. He stood there waiting for an old friend.
"Harry!" He heard the man exclaim.
He turned around, to see the man he has been waiting for. "Neville!"
"It's been so long! How have you been?"
Harry hesitated. Does he pretend everything's fine and great? Or does he tell Neville that everything sucks! And it has sucked for a while now. That he has no idea who he is anymore or what his purpose in life is and that Neville was lucky that Voldemort chose Harry instead of him.
Before Harry could make his mind up, Neville already started leading the way into the school. "What brings you to Hogwarts today? You didn't say over the floo."
"I need to talk to Dumbledore." Dumbledore always had the answer. To any question.
"Dumbledore?" Neville asked, confused.
"The portrait." Harry clarifies.
"I know." Neville rolls his eyes. "I mean, why?"
"I don't know who else to talk to…"
"You can talk to me." Neville said, stopped, and turned around to face Harry.
"I don't know, Neville."
"I'm your friend. You can talk to me." Neville insisted. Harry hesitated, but shortly after, he gave in.
"I just feel very lost, and I need guidance." He said, as the both of them continued talking.
Neville said nothing for a few seconds, before asking: "lost how?"
"I don't know, Neville!" Harry was starting to get annoyed. Neville was asking him questions that he did not know the answer to. "Ever since I've defeated Voldemort and the high faded I've been feeling lost and purposeless."
"And how is Dumbledore gonna help you with that?"
"I'm hoping he would." Harry did not need Neville questioning his plan right now. He came all the way here.
They kept walking. Through the Entrance Hall, the moving staircases, passed by many portraits that Harry hasn't seen in years. As Harry passed through the hall, some of the students noticed and recognized him, murmuring excitedly amongst themselves about the celebrity in front of them. Eventually, they reached the gargoyle. Neville said the password, and then turned to him.
"Good luck!" Neville said. "I hope you find the answers you're looking for."
"Thank you, Neville." Harry said, and watched as his old friend walked away.
He walked up the stairs until he reached the door to the Headmistress office. He knocks.
"Come on in!" Harry hears his old teacher's voice call him in.
"Hello professor," he walks in.
McGonagall's head jerked up. She hasn't heard that voice in years.
"Potter!" She exclaimed. "What a pleasant surprise! It's so good to see you!"
"You too, professor!"
"Take a seat!" She gestured, and a cup of tea appeared on the table in front of him. "Tea?"
Harry sat down, and sipped his tea.
"So," McGonagall looked at him over her glasses, "what brings you here?"
"I was wondering… if I could talk to Dumbledore?"
"Oh," McGonagall said, sounding slightly disappointed.
"I just…" he tried to justify, feeling the awkwardness of this situation.
"It's okay, dear." She said, as she stood up behind her desk, "I'll leave you to it." She walked out.
Harry heard McGonagall's steps behind him, and then the sound of the door being gently shut close.
"Dumbledore!" Harry called, looking at Dumbledore's empty portrait. A few minuted later, the image of the former old Headmaster popped into the frame.
"Harry! My boy!" He cheered. "It's so good to see you!"
"You too, professor!"
"What brings you here today?"
Harry hesitated, feeling the eyes of all the former Headmasters and Headmistresses watching him. "I'm going through something, and…" he paused for a little, before finishing his sentence, "and I wanted to talk to you about it. Privately."
Harry heard groans from the portraits around him, before most of the people in them walked out. Some of them were sleeping, or pretending to be.
"Severus," Dumbledore called, "I know you're not asleep."
Snape said nothing. He simply gave Dumbledore a dirty look, and walked out of his portrait. A few more did the same.
"Okay," Dumbledore cleared his throat, "what is it?"
"I think I'm going through a quarter-life crisis," Harry said.
"Nonsense!" Dumbledore said, "you're too young for a quarter-life crisis."
"But I'm in my early twenties," Harry tried to object.
"Yes, but you're a wizard, Harry. You live longer." Dumbledore said, "what muggles call a quarter-life crisis is more like… a sixteenth-life crisis, or whatever."
"Okay," Harry said, slightly annoyed, "that's not the point."
"You're right. That's not the point." Dumbledore agreed. "All your life you had a purpose- saving the Wizarding World, scratch that, the world! And now that that's done, and you're no longer the Chosen One, the Savior of the Wizarding World, you're feeling purposeless, leading you to question your whole identity."
Harry just stared, baffled.
"Did I get it right?" Dumbledore smirked, all the more satisfied by the look on Harry's face.
"Yes," Harry said, "how-?"
"You live long enough, Harry." Dumbledore simply said.
"Did you ever feel that way?"
"Yes, Harry." Dumbledore said, "you know by now about my sister Ariana."
Harry nodded.
"And you know how, before she died, me and Gellert Grindelwald had great plans for the Wizarding World, and I truly believed that we were on the right path, that we were working for the Greater Good."
Harry knew. Dumbledore never told him any of this when he was alive, and that angered him; hurt him! But here he was, Dumbledore being all open and vulnerable with him. Sharing secrets he took to the grave.
"After my sister died, me and Gellert went our separate ways, and while he continued working for what we both, at the time, thought was the Greater Good, the tragedy that had befallen my family forced me to reassess my views, my values, my actions." Dumbledore said, "I blamed myself for my sister's death, and so did my brother, Aberforth. I felt lost."
"What did you do?" Harry asked, hoping that would be the answer to his problem.
"Well, with my mother and Ariana dead, my dad in prison, and Aberforth blaming me for Ariana's death and hating my guts, I left."
"Left?"
"Left."
"Where?"
"Wherever life took me." Dumbledore said, "I travelled land and sea, met new people and new cultures, learned many languages, and went to achieve many accomplishments on the way."
"Were you scared?"
"I was," Dumbledore said, "but I had nothing to lose at the point, and there was nothing keeping me around."
Harry said nothing, Dumbledore had a sympathetic kind smile on his face.
"Something tells me you already had that idea," he said, his eyes pointing to the duffle bag on the seat facing Harry's. "Do you know where you're going?"
Harry shook his head.
"You'll find out soon enough."