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.
Now, he was hungry. He had a feeling that he had been in this type of situation before, dirty and starved, but he couldn't remember. That was very frustrating. He wanted to know, but his entire life was a complete blank. He could remember things he had heard, things he had read, seen on the telly, how to talk, how to walk, basically now to function as a human; but, everything else was a complete blank.
He didn't think he had felt so helpless in his life, but without his memory he couldn't be sure. It was all a feeling, and he didn't like it. As it was he had to hide from his aggressors and in the last week, he got very good at that. For not only were the local street rats mad that he was hanging about, but there were people in robes and funny clothes looking for him. He thought he saw the greasy-haired man once, but he never really got a good look at him, that night had been very blurry. Plus, without his glasses he wasn't sure.
The bin he was huddled against was outside a pub called the Leaky Cauldron, and for some reason the locals never raided it. It kept him pretty well fed, because most of the stuff that was thrown away was wrapped, like it was just waiting for someone to tip the bin and eat.
' Maybe, the guy thinks he's helping the poor or something,' Harry thought as he stood and started rummaging through the tossed-out food. He had just opened a bag of day old pastries and was bringing one to his mouth, when…
"Mr. Potter! Stop sorting through the rubbish at once," came the voice of a very stern older lady, dressed in a very strange combination of clothes. She was dressed in a smart woman's business suit that wouldn't be out of place in the 1940's, and a witch's traveling cloak. "What on earth are you doing, child? Do not eat that," the woman ordered, her voice laced with shock and demand.
Harry took one look at her attire, dropped the pastry and ran. He ducked by her and sprinted down the street, weaving his way through the adults that were shopping. He ran and ran but didn't hear anyone come after him.
McGonagall huffed, turned into a cat and followed. She dashed through the people milling the roads and tailed him into an alley about ten blocks down.
"Whew, she didn't give chase," Harry mumbled to himself as he wiped the sweat off his brow, disgusted that such a short sprint caused him to perspire. For some reason he felt he should be able to run much further and faster.
"That will be quite enough of that, young man," McGonagall said from behind him as she morphed back into herself.
Quick as a wink, the young teen twirled, picked up a discarded bottle and smashed it on the wall. He had seen someone do that once and had always wanted to try. "Who are you? And what do you want?" he demanded, brandishing his new weapon.
"This is not a time for jokes, Mr. Potter," she snapped, taking her wand out, and with a flick the jagged glass went flying into the wall. It smashed further on compact, rendering it useless. "Now I have no idea why you ran away; however, if it is the tournament then I am sure that something can be done to help you. Come along," she ordered as if he was just going to do what she said.
"I'm not going anywhere with you. You're one of those mad scientists," Harry stated, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Isn't it bad enough one of you caused me to lose my memory, now you can't leave me in peace!" he yelled, his face turning red with anger, as he looked at the stick and wondered if it was like the tricorder he had seen on the telly, only better since it could move things. 'Just how advanced are these guys?' he wondered, not taking his eyes off the stick. Cursing the fact that he threw his away.
"Whatever are you blathering about, child? What is a scientist? And why are you accusing me of being mad? I assure you, my mind is intact," she asked and then it registered what else he had said. "How did you lose your memory?" she gasped as she clutched her chest with her free hand.
"I wouldn't really remember that, would I?" the boy spat, then seeing she was worried he softened. Oh, he was still going to try and escape, but she seems to really care, so he answered what he could. "All I know is that a week ago, I woke up to some creepy man yelling at me, and a hologram of a man in bloody robes. The real man was threatening me, so I ran," Harry stated with a shrug of his shoulder. He shuddered as he recalled vials of strange things, the horsemen, and the giant. But, he refrained from telling her that.
"Do you know the man's name?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at the thought that Severus knew there was something wrong with the child and didn't say anything.
"No, and I couldn't see him very well," he confessed with a shake of his head. "My mind was all muddled and my vision was blurry. I remember he was tall with dark hair and a long nose, that's it," our hero hesitated, a bit put out that he couldn't identify the crazy scientist.
' Well, that could be Severus, but it is not enough to accuse him of anything. Perhaps Albus can get the memory,' she thought and with a nod she lifted her wand in case he tried to run again. "I am going to need you to come with me, Mr. Potter," McGonagall stated primly.