By the time Harry awoke the next day, the sun was well above the horizon. He had been rather lucky, all in all. Since it was a week day, and in early fall, no one had arrived at the playground before he woke up. Though it was far louder now, he was mildly surprised he hadn't awoken because of the traffic. He uncurled from inside the plastic tunnel where he'd slept, and walked cautiously down the street. He felt rather hungry, but he wasn't sure what to do now. His own aunt had never liked to spare him much food, why should total strangers? Seeing a small bakery, he walked inside. At least, he thought, it was somewhere he could curl up in a corner, and it seemed like a safe place to spend the day. A small bell on the door rang as he entered. It was pleasantly warm within, and smelling of spices and freshly baked bread. It was fairly crowded, various people having poured in for lunch break. He edged slowly toward the counter, gazing longingly at the food behind the glass.
"Would you like to try a sample of our new bread? " he heard a women's voice ask. He looked up, only to see that she was speaking to the customer at the counter. After she had rung up their purchases, he stepped forward.
"May I try a sample, please?" he asked hopefully. She smiled.
"Of course young man. Here you are," she handed him a small piece of bread, and ruffled his hair. "What do you think?"
"Very good, thank you," he replied, before making his way to the back of the store to curl up in a corner. He remained there for a while, listening to conversation, half hoping, half dreading, to hear news of the events at Privet Drive, and whether the attackers were on his trail, but the mention never came. He wandered out with the majority of the customers as they filtered out of the bakery to head back to work, and continued his cautious exploration of the streets. That night however, as he lay curled up within the playground, he was hungry, and lonely, and with no idea what direction his life was headed.
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Though it was hard to get enough food, and life was unpredictable, Harry was managing fairly well for the most part. He had several traits that played to his advantage. For one thing, he was used to not having anyone to look out for him, which made having to get along on his own a little easier. He had had enough experience with Dudley to avoid letting people who looked like trouble get near him. Lastly, a rather simple trait that had the potential to be either an advantage to be either an advantage or a disadvantage: a child's sense of habit. He quickly developed a sort of mental list of 'safe place'. While this could be a disadvantage, as it made him more predictable, it also allowed him to learn more.
He slept each night at the playground, and spent days between the bakery and several bookstores. The playground was a home base of sorts, though he still had to be cautious. Once he'd been awakened at night by the sounds of movement nearby, and found that a gang had stopped by to smoke, and mess with the playground equipment. He'd hid in the shadows until they'd left, feeling rather shaken. It was a place he knew, however, and the only place he felt comfortable sleeping, so he kept coming back. He generally awoke with the traffic now.
Harry had continued to return to the bakery as well. He had found that, when breakfast was being served, there was several minutes between when customers left and when workers came by to collect the plates, which often still held leftovers. He had taken to waiting for until a few customers left, then taking anything easy to carry, such as left-over croissant rolls or breakfast sandwiches, out the door with him from tables toward the back when no one was watching. He would stow these in the large pockets of his over-sized clothes to eat later.
The book stores, he like simply because he could curl up and read books off the shelves. The children's sections were usually out of the way, and he could sit and read for hours. He rotated bookstores to keep notice to a minimum. He enjoyed reading because it was something simple, normal, and entertaining in a safe place. And, he thought, as he sat in the swing, eating the food he stowed away earlier, and as he curled up in the play-tunnel, life wasn't all that bad as it was now. True, he was never really full, but he was used to small amounts of food. He was free to do mostly as he liked. But as time passed, the warmth of the indoor places where he spent his days grew more and more important. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself tightly as he tried to get to sleep. The cold was closing in, and he wasn't going quite as unnoticed as he thought.
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The young women who worked at the counter of the bakery watched as the small raven haired boy entered the store, just as he did every morning. He was still dressed in the same ragged clothes as always, and had most likely come for leftovers again, she was sure, though she'd only seen him do so a few times.. She sighed, and took out her cell phone. It would be horribly selfish of her to do nothing, just because she found the child's presence comforting, a sort of kindred soul within the chaos. She was unsure of whether he was an orphan, or just from a very poor family, but the weather was getting colder, and if he was on his own... she dialed the child help number she'd found in the phone book. After all, an orphanage would make sure he got food, and wasn't freezing to death. But somehow, as the worker an the other end reported that they'd "send someone over right away to check on the little imp," she wasn't sure whether she'd done the right thing.