Harry walked down a rough, cobbled street in Muggle London, hands in his pockets deeply in thought. About what, he couldn’t tell you, but he was thinking about it hard. He heard a cat shriek somewhere in the distance, followed by the enraged bellow of some man about trash cans and mangy animals. He sighed, why had he come to this place? The place he had fled to from home last year? It was a good place to wallow in self-pity and misery, that’s for sure. He sat down at a bus stop bench.