Meanwhile at Hogwarts, Albus' POV
"Albus, did you send Mr. Potter somewhere last night?" Minerva asked as she scooped some eggs on to her plate.
"No, I told both of our champions to rejoin their friends in their common rooms," the old man said slowly, alarmed at the question. "Why do you ask, my dear?" he turned his head towards his deputy, hoping she wasn't going to say what he thought she was.
"According to Miss Granger and the Weasley twins, he never showed up for the party," she said, getting a bit alarmed herself. She had been certain that the boy had been frightened, and that the Headmaster had sequestered him somewhere. Unlike others she knew Harry was innocent. She had been teaching him for four years and never had he wanted fame or glory. Still, to run was not the Gryffindor thing to do. She didn't worry too much. She knew Albus would take care of it, just like he always did.
"Oh my, this is most destressing," Dumbledore stated, looking over the Hall to see if Harry was sitting isolated from the other students, like he had during his second year. "Well, I am sure this is nothing to worry about. He is more than likely just overcome with emotion and is in hiding. I will send the ghosts to find him to make sure he attends class. It will build character to face his tormentors." He was positive that what he spoke was true. After all, look at him, he had to face bullies in school, and his hometown, and he was a fine specimen of a human being.
"Very well, Albus," McGonagall said and went back to her meal, once again reassured that her boss had everything under control.
Snape listened to the entire conversation, but kept his mouth shut. He only hoped they didn't find the brat, maybe he got lost in a foreign country and would never return to the castle. All Snape had to do was be… kind to the… children and talk to one emotional ghost. Then he'd be free and clear.
After breakfast, the Headmaster gathered the ghosts and gave them the order to search the castle. When they reported the boy was not to be found, he recruited the house elves. They too came back and stated that Master Harry Potter was not there. So the grounds were searched and Hagrid was asked.
"'Arry, sure I saw 'im last night. I was comin' back from 'unting, and 'e was goin' through the gates. Looked to be a might scared, so I thought 'e was goin' ter blow off some steam at The Three Broomsticks, jest like his dad woulda done. Didn't think much of it after that," the gentle half-giant said, scratching his scruffy beard in thought. "Now that I think abut it, 'e seemed ter not recognize me," the huge man recalled.
"Thank you, Hagrid. Next time a student leaves the grounds, I would very much appreciate it if you informed the staff," Dumbledore said, patting the man on the arm.
"I am staff," the Care of Magical Creatures Professor stated, puffing up importantly.
"Quite right, quite right, forgive an old man his memory slip," Albus placated.
"Ah, it's alright, I fergive ya," Hagrid said as he patted the old man on the back, making him stumble.
"Thank you, my dear boy. Now, we must be ever diligent in finding our misplaced student. Perhaps you are correct, and he could simply be at The Three Broomsticks enjoying Madam Rosmerta's lovely company," Dumbledore said as they walked to Hogsmeade with hopeful anticipation.
They were disappointed when the search of the whole town, including the Shrieking Shack, brought up nothing. Dumbledore assigned the teachers to look for the boy on their nonexistent downtime. Snape, of course refused, until he got a look from the Bloody Baron, then he begrudgingly accepted his time to find the dratted boy.
The hunt was on.
A week later, Harry's POV
' This isn't as easy as I thought,' the miserable boy mused as he stuffed more newspaper in his boots, in hopes to prevent more blisters and ward off the chill. That and there was a small hole in the bottom of the right one that needed padding. It had been a week for him and living on the streets was harder than he had assumed.
A few weird things happened over the course of the week, like he didn't freeze to death in the night. As a matter of fact, he always woke warm and toasty. He looked for wires in his robe but didn't find any. He brushed it off as modern technology that he just didn't know. There was another time when he saw a man with a lot of money. He remembered thinking that he could do with a bit of it, and seconds later there was a small pile of bills on the street. He snatched them up and reckoned the man dropped them. He hemmed and hawed over whether to return it, until he saw the man kick a stray dog.
' Fuck him,' he thought and bought something for him and the dog to eat. The dog ate his meal and ran off, which was too bad, he could use a companion. He did catch sight of a snowy owl, but the bird just sat and watched him at night. She even chased off a few unsavory men. However, he could never get her to come closer.
There were a few more incidences that he couldn't explain, but they were minor, so he just brushed them off.
As he huddled behind a bin, he recalled meeting an older boy two days into this adventure, who gave him a bit of advice. "Don't trust the adults, yeah. They just want to shove you in a home and forget about you. As long as they don't have to look at you, they're happy. It's that way in 'loving' homes too. You'll grow up one day and be the same way. But right now, you're just a kid, so don't trust them." The boy had said all this very sincerely, right before he hit Harry in the stomach and searched his empty pockets. "Right, I'm eighteen, so that makes me an adult. Ta." And with that he sauntered away.
Harry learned pretty valuable lessons from that. Or at least he thought he did. One thing he did know, after asking a few adults for handouts and getting shoved away, was that the young man was right. As long as he was out of sight, they were happy.
When the wind blew through his hair, Harry shivered and came out of his trip down his short memory lane. He was forever thankful that he had his robes and boots. He had to fight many times just to keep them. He had already lost his new glasses and had the man in the gold store exchange his copper coins to get a new pair. But, like the last two pairs, they were gone when he woke. It was only the fact that these boots laced up mid-calf that they didn't get stolen in the night. He always woke when nimble fingers tried to unlace them. His face and chest were still bruised from the last two scuffles. Thank God they were steel-toed; it made defending himself much easier. That and that snowy owl chased off a few. He would be forever thankful to her for that. Too bad she never came near. He just wondered what an owl was doing in downtown London. Whatever the reason he was happy she was there.
He was also thankful that there were public restrooms for bathing or he'd be a bigger mess than he was now. As it was his robe was torn and dirty and his uniform was not much better. But, he couldn't take the chance in washing them, or his hair, because he had no way to dry them in this freezing weather.