"Memories," repeated Harry.
The vials were identical to the ones Dumbledore had used to hold the memories he had shown Harry in the Pensieve. Inside each of them the same thick silvery smoke swirled.
"Wow," said Ron. "I wonder what they are of?"
Harry picked up a bottle and found a label on it. Written in tiny, elegant lettering was the name of a first year spell, 'Wingardium Leviosa'.
"What do you reckon it is?"
"It might be a training tool," suggested Hermione.
"It could be, but it's no good without a Pensieve."
"Try the other compartments, Harry," said Ron eagerly. "There might be one in there."
All but one of the compartments contained trays of memories. The last compartment contained a small instruction manual on how to use the trunk.
"Load of good it is putting the instructions on the inside," laughed Ron, and Harry agreed.
"Well I think it's still wonderful," said Hermione, after listening to Ron and Harry's complaints for a few minutes. "You just need to find a Pensieve and then we will be able to keep learning. Dumbledore must have been making this for years to have so many. I bet each one is a complete lecture on the spell and demonstrations of how to perform it."
"Right," said Ron. "Harry, just nick over to Diagon alley and pick up a couple will you? There's a good lad."
"That's not such a bad idea Ron. It would be really useful to have one. Which shop do you reckon would sell them?"
Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry.
"What?" he asked.
"Er, mate. They are not would you would call, common."
"They're not?"
"No, Harry," said Hermione. "There are a bit rare actually."
"A bit rare, try extremely rare, and they would probably cost more than you have in your vault if you could find one."
"Oh" said Harry. While he was not as excited about the memories as Hermione, he definitely wanted to be able to view them. There might even have been some more information about Tom Riddle or the Horcruxes; it had to be more than just a training aid.
"Maybe Professor McGonagall would let you borrow hers?" suggested Hermione.
Harry wasn't keen on letting anybody know about the memories. Dumbledore had hidden them for a reason, and until Harry knew why, he wasn't happy to just go telling everybody about it. He said as much to his friends.
"Besides,' he said, "we'll be leaving here in a little while, you don't think she would let me take it away do you? Just how many of these do you think I could watch in an hour?"
Hermione admitted it was unlikely, and that watching a few would be a pointless exercise.
"My best bet is to go to Diagon Alley and ask around. Somebody somewhere might be able to help me out."
"Harry, it is far too dangerous for us to go to Diagon alley," said Hermione. "And it wouldn't take long for everybody to know what you are looking for. If you want to keep it secret, you are going to have to have a plan."
Harry sat for a minute thinking about what Hermione said. She was right and he was going to have to start to be a bit smarter if he wanted to keep what they were up to secret, and not just with the Pensieve.
As soon as they didn't show up next term, everybody was going to be looking for them and trying to find out what they were doing; Voldemort and the Death Eaters in particular.
"Maybe you could just Polyjuice yourself as Neville," laughed Ron. "Pity it takes a month to brew."
"Actually," said Hermione thoughtfully. "I know who has some right now."
"Slughorn," said Harry, thinking of the large cauldron he usually had brewing in the potions classroom.
"What are going to do? Nick down and pinch some? Besides, when are you going to go? The Order or the Ministry will notice if you are missing from your house for any length of time and will just follow you anyway. You don't want them knowing what we are doing do you?" asked Ron.
"We still have to figure a way to get away from everybody when we go looking for the Horcruxes too," added Hermione. "Polyjuice isn't going to be any use over a long period of time, unless we all carry around flasks like Crouch did, and we would have to be brewing it constantly."
Harry was lost in thought and not listening to his friends as they argued about the best way to slip away and stay hidden.
"I got an idea," he said after a few minutes, interrupting them. "Listen, I have plan, but it is going to be hard."
Harry raced through the corridors towards the dungeons under his invisibility cloak. He had retrieved the cloak from the top of the tower where he had left it days before. Strangely, none of the investigating Aurors had found it.
Narrowly avoiding collisions with the odd student or teacher, he made it to the potions classroom undetected.
Slipping inside the open door, he found the room been virtually emptied. Professor Slughorn was busy piling potions and ingredients into several large carpetbags that seemed to never fill up.
The cauldron that had previously bubbled with Polyjuice potion was already gone, and Harry knew he couldn't possibly search the room for it with Slughorn there. It had probably already been packed into one of the bags or trunks surrounding the portly professor.
Desperate, Harry decided there was only one thing left to do. He dashed back outside and removed the cloak before knocking on the door.
"Harry!" said Slughorn. "What can I do for you?"
"Professor," began Harry, "I need a favour."
Slughorn's beady eyes narrowed and a calculating look came onto his face. "A favour eh? Well young Harry. What is it you would like?"
"Professor, I need some Polyjuice potion." Harry held his breath, waiting for the reply.
Whatever Slughorn had been expecting, this had not been it.
"Polyjuice? What ever for? No, wait. Don't tell me. It doesn't matter, and I am not sure I want to know anyway. Sorry Harry but I have none to spare."
"But Professor," argued Harry, "You always have a large cauldron of it brewing. Where has it all gone?"
"It is all bottled up for a client I have in London. Sorry, prior commitment," said Slughorn turning back to his packing.
"I'll pay double!" blurted Harry.
Slughorn paused to look at Harry. "Double, you don't even know what I charged! Sorry lad, but unless you have something on hand considerably more valuable than just money, there is no way I could be convinced to part with it."
Harry searched his memory for something he could offer. He didn't own much and what he did he couldn't afford to part with.
"I could give you a safe place to stay."
Slughorn harrumphed and continued to pack. "I have made arrangements for this summer, and I doubt any place you reside in will stay safe for very long."
Harry looked around the room for inspiration while Slughorn piled more jars of potion ingredients into his bags and trunks.
"What about some Basilisk skin?" he said.
The aging professor suddenly stopped midway through jamming a large jar of slowly bubbling, purple goo into his bag, and gave Harry his complete attention. "Basilisk skin?" he asked. "Nobody has had much Basilisk skin for hundreds of years. The tiniest quantity is worth a hundred, no a thousand times its weight in gold. Where can you get Basilisk skin?"
"I know where there is some," said Harry confidently. "I can get it before the Hogwarts express leaves today."
Slughorn was deep in thought, the purple goo bubbling away – forgotten, for the moment. "Basilisk skin. I could make potions that have not been seen for decades." He snapped out of his trance and looked at Harry, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"How much potion do you want to trade for, and how much skin are you willing to give for it?"
"All of your Polyjuice potion, for three square feet of skin."
"THREE FEET!" yelled Slughorn, clutching the goo filled jar to his chest. "Merlin's beard lad, you don't even know how much potion I have!"
"If you have half of what was in the cauldron, I'll be happy, but you can make up the difference in other potions if you like," explained Harry, shifting nervously. Had he made a mistake? Was his offer going to go to waste because Slughorn was unlikely to believe he could get what he had promised?
Slughorn got a far off look in his eyes again and stroked the forgotten jar almost lovingly. "Three feet!" he murmured to himself, apparently lost in thought about how many potions this represented, and probably their value.
"Professor?" prompted Harry, starting to get impatient.
"What? Oh Yes, yes lad. I agree. Get your skin to me as quickly as possible and I'll have your potions waiting for you," he said waving Harry away.
Harry ran from the classroom, pulling the invisibility cloak over him as soon as he could without been seen. He stopped momentarily back in his dorm to grab his broom and tell Ron what was going on.
"He's going to give it to me, but I have to get him some Basilisk skin in exchange. Where's Hermione?" he asked Ron, who had been waiting for him.
"Basilisk skin? Where are you… Oh, you're back to the Chamber of Secrets aren't you?"
"Yes," answered Harry. "Get Neville and explain the plan to him. I'll be back as soon as I can. Where's Hermione?"
"She has gone to talk to Ginny. I'll get Neville, but you are running out of time, and what if Neville doesn't want to do it?"
"I know I am running out of time, Ron. Just get Neville and ask him. Tell him I'll owe him a big one! Otherwise grab one of the Creevy brothers," said Harry not waiting for a reply before running from the room.
Once out of the common room, he ducked into the first empty classroom he found and fixed his cloak around him as best as he could on with a few sticking charms.
Students walking the corridors felt a slight breeze as one of the best broom flyers to ever attend Hogwarts flew over their heads invisibly at speed on his way to the second floor bathroom.
Harry hissed at the tap, to open the pipe leading to the Chamber of Secrets, then jumped in without waiting for it to finish opening completely. As he slid down he managed to keep a firm grip on his broom with one hand and his cloak with the other, despite the treacherous twists and turns of the enormously long descent. Finally he flew from the end of the pipe and landed heavily on his behind.
Stuffing the cloak inside his shirt, he quickly climbed onto the broom again and lit the way with his wand. Within seconds he was hovering in front of the collapsed ceiling.
The hole Ron had dug was nowhere near large enough for him to get through, even though he hadn't grown as much as Ron in the four years since they made it.
Harry couldn't believe he had forgotten about this. There was precious little time for him to make the hole bigger by hand, but any explosive spell like Reducto could easily bring the roof down on his head.
Flying back down the tunnel a short way, he turned and stated removing rocks with his wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa," he cast at one of the large rocks on the edge of the existing hole. The boulder floated up obediently, and he flicked it aside with a twitch of his wand.
When it landed there was a crunching noise instead of the thump Harry had been expecting. Shining his light to the spot, Harry suddenly realised what the rock had landed on; it was the shed skin of Slytherin's beast he, Ron and Lockhart had come across before Ron's broken wand brought the roof down on them.
He didn't need to go all the way to the Chamber and cut a section from the undoubtedly decaying corpse of the Basilisk; he could just take the shed skin and give that to Slughorn instead.
Harry jumped off his broom and quickly rolled up a few feet of the vivid green skin. Although there must have been at least twenty feet of it in total, most of it was buried under the rubble of the collapsed tunnel. There was more than enough sticking out for what Harry needed though.
Cutting the skin was hard work. It almost seemed to resist Harry's spells and he had to cast it many times. It was far too strong to be torn by hand, and Harry doubted his small pocket-knife would have much luck cutting it. The going was agonisingly slow as he cast cutting spell after cutting spell to make a ragged cut.
Eventually he had a section of skin that was easily three square feet. He pocketed another small piece to keep for himself. If there were potions that needed Basilisk skin, Harry wanted to have some, just in case.
Mounting his broom he raced back to the pipe. This was going to be the hardest part of the trip. The pipe was not large enough for him to sit upright and fly through, and it twisted and turned in its long journey back to the castle.
Harry bent low over the shaft of his broom and held his wand against the front so that it acted like a spot light. He entered the pipe and started his ascend, slowly, but with increasing speed as his confidence, and the pressure of running out of time, grew.
A sudden sharp turn caused him to bash into the side almost dislodging him and throwing his broom in to opposite wall. He ricocheted from one wall to the next and painfully slammed his head into the top of the pipe, causing stars to appear in his vision. Slime coated his hands from where they made bruising contact with the walls, making his grip falter as the uncontrolled bouncing tossed him around. If he fell off, he was facing a slide back to the start, and an unacceptable loss of time.
But it was for a good reason that Harry was called the best seeker Hogwarts had seen in generations.
With skill born of determination and natural ability, Harry held onto the broom and forced it back under control. He ignored the pain as his instincts took over.
It's just like chasing a snitch, he thought to himself as he ignored everything else and concentrated on the narrow beam of light that shone a few feet ahead, showing the twists and turns a mere second before they were upon him.
Twists and turns, steep climbs and shallows drops flew by in a blur of rusty pipes and slime covered corroded metal. Minutes dragged by as he forced himself to stay focussed on the path ahead.
With a final steep climb he rocketed out of the secret opening and nearly smashed into the roof of the girl's toilet before heaving his broom to a vicious stop.
Breathing a sigh of relief at having made it out in one piece, he had paused long enough to close the opening, cast a few cleaning spells on himself, and stick his invisibility cloak back on.
"Oh, it's just you again!" said a disappointed voice out of a previously empty space just behind his right ear. "I was hoping that other boy had come to visit, or did you finally MURDER HIM?"
"No Myrtle," Harry answered angrily. "But you might be happy to know he helped murder the Headmaster! I hope you enjoyed talking to him, because the only way you will ever see him again is if he becomes a ghost when they execute him," he shouted, as he finished covering himself and shot out the door on his broom, heading for the dungeons.
Slughorn had evidently finished packing and was sitting at his desk, apparently waiting for Harry. He had another carpetbag sitting on the desk. Harry assumed it contained the Polyjuice.
Harry dropped the rolled up skin onto the desk at the same time as he dropped the invisibility cloak and jumped off his broom. The rotund professor got such a shock at Harry appearing mid air in front of him that he nearly fell off his chair.
"Good god lad! I think you just cost me several years of life!" Slughorn exclaimed, before his eyes fastened on the rolled up skin. "Basilisk skin!" he yelled excitedly. "I can't believe it. Basilisk skin!"
He gently began unrolling the skin and examined it minutely with a huge magnifying glass.
"Exceptional quality too, I must say. Harry, you have me intrigued as to your source," he said, looking up at Harry and raising one eyebrow hopefully.
Harry was in too much of a hurry to make up any elaborate excuses, and definitely did not what to tell the truth to the elderly Professor.
"Sorry sir, that is confidential information," he said, grabbing the carpetbag and opening it up. Inside were dozens of potion vials. Most held the thick, dark mud Harry recognised as Polyjuice potion that did not have the final ingredient - a bit of the person you wanted to impersonate - but there were many other potions Harry did not immediately recognise.
"What are all these extras?" he asked, as he slipping one of the small vials of Polyjuice into a pocket.
"I have included at least two of every type of potion I had in stock. You will find several potent healing potions, some dreamless sleep, and even a strengthening solution or two. I really prefer to travel light, but did not want to leave them behind. Consider it a bonus to our agreement, which you appear to have fulfilled above and beyond expectations!"
"How much Polyjuice is there?" Harry asked, closing the bag.
"Enough to last a person at least one months constant use," Slughorn said, smiling. "Just be certain to use it all within a year since the potency will start to drop off after that."
"Is there any Felix Felicis?"
Slughorn's smile stiffened slightly, but he reached into his robes and took out a small bottle he then placed on the table.
"This is my spare batch, another twelve hours worth. I do hope you don't squander it!"
"Thank you, Professor," said Harry already heading for the door. "Oh, and please don't tell anybody about this."
"Don't mention it my boy," said Slughorn waving Harry away as he bent to examine the skin again.
Harry again mounted his broom and donned his cloak; he was in too much of a hurry to walk to the dorm.
"YOU ARE A SELFISH GIT YOU KNOW THAT?" screamed a red faced Ron, at the top of his voice.
All around the common room people had stopped what they were doing to stare at the loud argument the three formerly best friends were having.
"I'M SELFISH? THE ONLY REASON YOU WANT ME TO GO OUT WITH HER IS SO THAT YOU CAN CASH IN," yelled Harry back, his voice croaking slightly.
He had been yelling at Ron and Hermione in an ever increasingly loud argument for almost five minutes now, and the strain was starting to show in his voice. It had started in the dorm and continued right down into the middle of the common room where they now stood.
Hermione had actually given up yelling and was glaring angrily at Harry while apparently holding Ron back from attacking Harry.
Harry wondered if Ron had inherited his ability to keep his voice at this level for an extended period of time from his mother. Ron had been doing more yelling than himself and Hermione combined, but was still going strong. Harry knew he had to leave soon or might loose his voice completely.
"CASH IN? IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK? YOU THINK SHE WAS JUST GOING OUT WITH YOU FOR YOUR MONEY?"
Ron's words hurt, they both knew it, but Harry had to ignore the pain and yell back or he would have lost his composure completely.
"I DON'T CARE WHY SHE WAS GOING OUT WITH ME; I JUST DON'T WANT TO DO IT ANYMORE. DON'T YOU GET IT?"
"SO YOU WERE JUST USING HER THEN? YOU DIDN'T EVER CARE ABOUT HER? YOU ARE PATHETIC!"
"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO RON? I AM NOT GOING TO KEEP GOING OUT WITH GINNY WHEN I DON'T WANT TO!"
Ron stopped shouting and dropped his voice to almost conversational level.
"Besides going and getting yourself killed by Death Eaters, I want you to get lost. Go away Harry, and never come anywhere near me, or my family again!"
"FINE," yelled Harry. "NOT A PROBLEM!"
Harry turned to leave when a hand roughly grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. Without thinking Harry threw his fist and connected with Ron's chin.
Ron fell to the ground as Hermione shrieked and leapt to Ron's side.
Harry stood still, his fists still clenched.
"Never touch me again, Ron," he snarled viciously.
"JUST GO AWAY, HARRY!" yelled Hermione. "JUST LEAVE US ALL ALONE!"
Harry turned and stomped out of the common room, ignoring the whispers.
As he was climbing out of the portrait hole, he turned and looked back at the room that was the centre of the first and only place he had ever felt at home. A wave of sadness filled his heart at having to leave it.
He took one last long look, committing to memory everything he could.
As his eyes roamed over the scene, he spotted Ginny standing on the stairs leading to the girl's dorm. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were shiny with tears.
Harry felt his heart threaten to explode. It had already been beating fast during the fight, but now it wanted to rip itself from his chest. He turned his back and stomped out of the portrait hole for what was most likely to be the last time.
Nobody tried to stop him or to talk to him as he ran through the corridors to the fourth floor.
Taking deep breaths to calm down, Harry checked nobody was watching, and then slipped into a passageway behind a mirror.
"How did it go?" asked a nervous and fidgeting Neville Longbottom.
"Good," answered Harry. He was shaking slightly as the adrenaline in his body started to take its toll. "Well, not good, if you know what I mean. We made a real scene, right in the middle of the common room. Lots of yelling and screaming, I even clipped Ron on the chin just before I left."
Neville was impressed. "Wow," he said. "You guys really went all out didn't you?"
"It had to be believable, Neville."
"How's Ginny going to feel when she hears about it?"
"She heard," said Harry. Neville's face fell in shock. "Hermione told her what was going to happen beforehand, and she was meant to stay in her room, but I saw her standing on the stairs when I left. I don't know how long she was there, but it looked like a while. She probably saw the whole thing."
"Um, er, I am real sorry to hear that Harry," said Neville uncomfortably.
"It's all right, Neville," said Harry seriously. "I want you to know how much I appreciate this."
"I know, Harry," said the shy Gryffindor. "What ever you are doing is probably important, so I am glad I can help. It's not like I am going to get into any trouble, or even be in any danger, right?"
"You are not likely to get into any trouble, or be in any danger, but I still want you to know I appreciate your help," said Harry, taking the vial of Polyjuice from his pocket.
He conjured a cup and poured a decent measure into it, then plucked a few hairs from his head and dropped them in. The potion hissed loudly, like a boiling kettle, before it changed to a deep red colour.
"Drink it now, then head straight down to the train. It should be leaving not long after you get there. Everybody else will be heading down at the same time, but avoid talking to anybody, just act angry or grumpy or something and tell them to go away."
Neville took the cup, but instead of drinking it immediately, he just stared into it, grimacing.
"Neville, are you listening to me?"
Neville looked up from the cup.
"I heard, Harry, but…" he stopped and stared at the contents of the cup again.
"Look, Neville, I know it looks bad, and I won't lie to you, it tastes pretty awful too, but you'll survive. Okay?"
"It's not that, Harry. It's just, well…"
"What Neville?"
"Harry, did you put hair into it?"
"What?"
"The Polyjuice. Did you put some of your hair into it?"
"Yes, Neville. I put a couple of my hairs into it. It is the last ingredient and is what lets you take my form."
"Oh," said Neville, still looking rather despondent. "Did it have to be hair? I hate hair. It makes me feel sick thinking about it."
Harry sighed. He was asking a huge favour from the timid boy and, even though he didn't really have the time for this, he felt Neville deserved some sympathy.
"Sorry, Neville, I didn't know it would be a problem for you, but what would you have preferred, toe nails?"
Neville blanched at the thought and appeared to consider what part of Harry he would find acceptable in a drink. After a few seconds he realised there was no satisfactory answer to that question.
"You're probably right, but did you have to do it in front of me where I could see it was hair? Now all I can think about is that there is hair floating around in something I am about to drink."
"Come on, Neville! Hair is the least obnoxious thing I could think of and definitely the easiest to get. It's completely dissolved now anyway, look," Harry said pointing at the potion. "Now, unless you want me to mix another batch using a piece of skin or some blood, drink up!"
Looking far from convinced, Neville braced himself and drank the potion in two huge gulps, nearly gagging on either the foul taste, or the hair.
Harry winced as Neville fell to the floor and started the painful and somewhat disturbing transformation.
He had seen somebody change back from Polyjuice, and had undergone the change himself, but as Neville's hands shrank and his hair grew and changed, Harry thought it might actually be worse to watch than it was to do.
Once Neville had stopped retching, Harry helped him up and continued, only slightly put off by talking to an almost identical, although slightly sickly looking, replica of himself.
"There should be loads of empty compartments, so you'll have no problems getting one to yourself, otherwise just go to one of the loos. Lock the door and wait for the potion to wear off, and then go join Ron and the others. Have you got my clothes with you?"
"Yeah, here in my school bag."
"Good, get changed now and don't forget to change back before the potion wears off."
"Okay."
"And, Neville, thanks. I really owe you one."
Harry shook Neville's hand before checking the Marauder's map and sneaking out from behind the mirror.
Seconds later he was once again wrapped in his cloak and flying through the hallways on his way to the nearby Whomping Willow.
Harry had considered flying all the way to the Shrieking shack or somewhere else out of sight of Hogwarts, but he was not sure what wards had been replaced on the castle since Dumbledore had died.
When the two of them had returned from their ill-fated trip to retrieve the fake Horcrux, Dumbledore had removed the wards before they had flown onto the school grounds. There was a good chance those same wards had now been replaced. Flying through them could result in disaster.
Stopping only to levitate a branch to press the knob on the base of the tree to stop its limbs from flailing, Harry squeezed himself into the narrow tunnel under the Whomping Willow and ran to the Shrieking Shack.
He may have had several hours before the train arrived at platform nine and three quarters and his absence detected, but he had no idea how long it would take him to get to Diagon alley, let alone how long he might need once there.
Once inside the shack, Harry took his miniaturised trunk from his pocket and, confident the Ministry would not be monitoring for underage magic use on an abandoned house, expanded it. He quickly took out the robes they had prepared earlier and got changed. Without the school logo, and changed the colour to a deep blue, it was no longer obvious that he was a Hogwarts student.
Now came the hardest part. Human transformations were something they had studied this year and Harry had managed to change the colour his eyebrows, (well one eyebrow anyway,) but now he was going to try for a whole head full of hair. He had hat as a fall back, but changing the colour would be much better.
Concentrating, Harry kept the image of what he wanted in his mind, waved his wand and spoke the words to the spell, exactly how Hermione had taught him.
Slowly, his hair started to lighten and grow longer. Excitement nearly cost him his concentration, but he managed to hold onto the spell until his hair was close to what he envisioned; light brown and long enough to no longer stick up all over the place and cover his scar.
Inordinately proud at his successful change, Harry quickly moved onto his glasses. With a flick and a swish, they transformed from his distinctive black Horn-rimmed spectacles to a very different, smaller wire framed pair. They felt a bit uncomfortable, but since he would only be keeping them this way for a few hours, he knew could survive.
Taking a small makeup kit from his trunk, Harry quickly dabbed the premixed concoction over his scar. No spell would hide the cursed mark for very long, but a mixture of magical and Muggle makeup that Lavender Brown used would hide it for a while.
Upon contact with his skin, the powder changed to match Harry's complexion, completely covering his most distinctive feature.
He took a few moments to look in the mirror. It was a pretty basic disguise that would not stand up to a close inspection by somebody who knew him, but it was better than Polyjuice because it would last more than an hour without maintenance and did not run the risk of Harry being mistaken for somebody else.
He wished he could have made himself look older, and taller, and possibly changed his eye colour, but that level of magic was still beyond him.
"Stage two complete," Harry said to his mirror self, feeling a bit like James Bond or one of those other Muggle super spies he had seen on TV. "Time for stage three, Ms. Moneypenny!"
Satisfied he had done as much as he could, Harry repacked his trunk and shrunk it back down to fit into a pocket, then snuck out of the shack, making sure there was nobody around to see him.
Standing on the road leading to Hogsmeade, Harry raised his wand into the air and waited for the Knight Bus.
He tensed up, expecting the huge, purple, triple-decker to appear out of mid air and try to run him down, but after a few seconds nothing had happened, so he tried again, then a third time.
The bus didn't appear, and Harry started to panic. The plan was to take the bus to London, fully expecting the magically appearing and disappearing bus to travel much faster than the Hogwarts Express, which travelled like a normal Muggle train. Now it appeared the bus was not running, or was so far away that it couldn't stop to pick him up.
Maybe it's full, thought Harry, or maybe it just doesn't come here.
Almost in full panic mode, Harry forced himself to slow down and think. In the distance he heard the whistle of the Hogwarts Express as it left Hogsmeade station. It nearly started him panicking again.
He had once flown to London in the dead of night on the back of a Thestral, but that did not seem like a viable option in the middle of the day. There was his broom, but the thought of such a long flight, and the amount of time it would take at broom speeds, meant that was out. He couldn't even go back to the castle now without letting everybody know he had tried to sneak off, and he didn't want to get Neville into trouble for helping him either.
The only other options were to go into Hogsmeade and use the Floo, or Apparate, and Apparating was dangerous as well as illegal.
Every inhabitant of Hogsmeade had seen him at one time or another, so there was a risk that somebody might recognise him, even with the disguise.
With Dumbledore's funeral, the population of the small village had overflowed and, even though most people had probably left by now, there were still sure to be many others still there, waiting to avoid the crush.
Some parents may even have decided to take their children directly home from school after the funeral. They would be the ones most likely to recognise him.
Harry didn't see he had a choice. He did not trust his ability to Apparate, having only done it himself a couple of times, so he had to Floo. Trying to Apparate and getting himself splinched would be the height of disaster and an incredibly embarrassing, not to mention illegal, blunder. It was not worth the risk.
Having made up his mind, Harry ran to towards Hogsmeade.
Thinking of the best place to leave from as he ran, he suddenly changed his direction to head towards the Hogs Head tavern. The dank pub ran by Aberforth Dumbledore was most likely less crowded, and the normal patrons did not usually pay much attention to other patrons, so it was his best chance to leave unrecognised.
Skidding to a stop near the door to the pub, Harry dug a few coins out of his pocket, ready to drop them into the container next to the Floo powder to pay for his trip.
Keeping his head down, Harry entered the small pub and walked directly to the fireplace. He tossed the coins into the bucket put there for the purpose, then tossed a handful of Floo powder from the pot on the mantle into the fire.
"Diagon Alley," he said clearly while stepping into the green flames.
Once again he felt as if he was been sucked down a giant drain or whirled in a whirlpool. The sensation of cold hands slapping his face assaulted him as he held his elbows in and kept his eyes closed. Watching a blurred cascade of fireplaces and rooms rush passed him usually only increased his discomfort, so he tried to concentrate on keeping his stomach down and ignored the queasy feelings and dizziness.
After what seemed like an age of stomach churning motion, Harry crashed face-first onto a warm stone floor; a trademark Harry Potter Floo exit. Opening his eyes the familiar sight of the Leaky Cauldron greeted his eyes.
And just like that, Harry was in London.