When Harry wakes up next to a dumpster, he admits, he panics a little. Just a little though, and he certainly didn't accidentally toss his little prince into the stinky dumpster. If all this is true, you may ask, then why is Harry digging through said stinky dumpster? Well... You can shut up.
As it is, Harry is currently leaning over the side of a dumpster, feet barely touching the ground, as he frantically shifts through garbage to find his precious little prince (and if he pulls out a few edibles along the way, well, he'd eaten worse at the Dursley's). It seems his prince had fallen quie deeply into the dumpster during his unexpected dive, and Harry was getting ready to simply bodily jump into the dumpster to search more deeply (Even with almost not touching the ground, all Harry could do was shift around the surface garbage), when he spots a flash of gold.
He immediately stretches forward, pushing aside an empty take-out box, and spots his prince's cute little head, his crown glinting in the low light of the alley. With a relieved smile, Harry tugs his little prince free, only to be met by a bit of extra weight.
There, his little prince caught in one of it's various hole, is what appeared to be a rag with stuffing falling out of it. Harry tugs it closer by way of his little prince, and gently separates the two. With an extra moment of curious inspection, Harry finds that the object is not, in fact, a rag with random stuffing, but a very torn up rabbit plush. What little of it's once luxurious fur it had left was muddy and matted, and it had so many rips and tears and holes that it looked like it had been mauled by a wild animal. One of its dark glass eyes was missing, and the other was hanging on by a thread.
Harry's eyes darken in concern for the poor doll and he glances down at his prince.
"What do you think?" He whispers, "Shall we bring her with us?"
As if listening to a response from the doll that only he could hear, Harry nods at the little doll and, so very carefully, places the rabbit in his bag. With a small smile and a whisper of comfort, Harry zips his bag closed, not noticing the hard rectangle at the bottom, though he did note that his pack was much heavier than he remembered as he hefted it onto his shoulder. He brushed the thought to the side as he casts a glance around for the small dog he'd brought out here with him, finding it playfully tearing into the remains of someone's steak dinner that he'd tossed it while digging through the dumpster.
Harry quirks a smile at it and waits for it to finish eating by eating his own food. He saves the granola bars for later, instead forcing down some of the edibles he'd pulled from the dumpster. He wouldn't be able to take them with him as he walked, for fear of drawing undue attention, so it was best to eat it now. He made sure to carefully inspect each piece of food before he eats it, trying to make sure he wouldn't get sick. It's not long before Harry is finished eating, feeling more full than he had in weeks, and he scoops up the pup after cleaning up their mess.
He creeps out of the alley cautiously, carefully cradling the oddly complacent pup, and stuffing his little prince into his waistband like always. He shuffles into the crowd of what he presumed to be London and begins his life on the streets
Harry found life as a street urchin far more agreeable than his time with the Dursleys. His meals were more regular, although regularly dug out of trashcans in the dark of night, and he even had enough to keep his growing pup fed decently most days. And although several thugs had attempted to threaten him, he was fast enough to escape them, and they were less determined to him harm than Dudley's gang was (He was, after all, a small child. It wasn't like he'd have much on him).Finding shelter was a problem, but he'd found a nice bridge a small ways away from where he woke up that first day that had a mostly-dry sewer pipe large enough for him to crawl into when he needed to. Fishing clothes and blankets out of donation bins at charity shops gave him something to keep himself warm with. It wasn't long until he had a little fort down under the bridge. After a few months, he'd mostly managed to keep out of the eyes of the authorities and the local gangs, and he felt he was doing pretty well for himself, despite a few close calls. Most importantly, he had a chance to get to know his newfound magic and no one punished him for practicing with it!
It was on a day where it was too cold for Harry and his dog to leave his little sewage pipe, though Harry's magic kept it warm enough that Harry wasn't too worried, when Harry finally dug through his backpack to check what he had, and discovered the mysterious book.
He'd been pawing through the bag, pulling out extra blankets and seeing what food he had (He had enough granola bars and water still to last a few days, if he needed), when his hand had hit something hard and square, something Harry definitely hadn't grabbed on his rush out the house, nor bothered with since he'd been out on the streets. A book. As he pulled it out, Harry's breath caught in his throat as he observed the cover. It was a deep, almost black, purple dyed leather that seemed to shine in the low light of the sewage pipe. In shining gold print across the cover, it read one simple word: Opifex.
Harry tugged the book open, his dog crawling under his arm to peek at it. With a gulp, he turns the first page, quite sure that this would be a life changing moment (I mean, a magic book! How else would it have appeared in his pack? It had to be magic, it had to).
Only to find a blank page.