The Language of a New Life
Harry had never been the best student at Hogwarts—not when it came to sitting still and memorizing things, at least. But learning Japanese felt different. It wasn’t another subject forced upon him, another requirement for some greater battle. This was something he wanted to do, something that would help him start over.
He sat at the worn wooden desk in his flat, a cup of tea growing cold beside him as he carefully traced out kanji characters in a notebook. His handwriting was clumsy, his pronunciation rough, but he was improving. A few weeks ago, he could barely recognize a handful of words. Now, he could introduce himself:
"Watashi wa Harry desu."
It was simple, but it was a start.
Books weren’t enough, though. He needed to hear the language, to immerse himself in it. He found an old Muggle shop in London that sold language tapes and bought a few, listening to them in the evenings while he cooked or stared out at the city skyline. He even ventured into a small Japanese café, hesitantly ordering tea and forcing himself to make small talk with the kind old woman behind the counter. She corrected his pronunciation with a patient smile, and though it was embarrassing, he appreciated it.
The more he learned, the more real his decision became.
One evening, as he practiced writing simple sentences, a thought crossed his mind—Hermione would be proud. He hadn’t told anyone about his plan yet. Ron and Hermione had their own lives now, their own futures to build. He didn’t want to burden them with his need to leave.
Besides, this wasn’t about running away. It was about finding something new.
With renewed determination, he picked up his pen again. If he was going to do this, he would do it properly. By the time he stepped off the plane in Japan, he would be able to speak well enough to find his way, to build a life where no one whispered his name like a legend.
For the first time in years, Harry Potter felt like he was moving forward.