Meanwhile in a dark alley, Harry's POV
Right now, our hero was huddled against the cold winds of the city streets. He had no idea how he got here, but the phrase 'out of the frying pan and into the fire,' kept running through his mind as he took in the shadows of the alley he was currently hiding in. One minute he was escaping from the spooky castle, full of mean men, animated armor and holograms of men covered in blood, and the next he was in the cold streets of a city. He did wonder what kind of technology that greasy-haired, hook-nosed person used to make all that happened and why. Did the guy do something to make him forget? Is that why he was so mean? What could he have possibly done to piss someone off so much that they'd take his memories? Maybe it was a murder, or a drug deal, or a slave operation. Harry didn't know, there were too many possibilities, and since he had no memory he had no way of proving anything. So, he couldn't go to the coppers, they'd just laugh at him, or throw him into the loony-bin.
But that was for another time; right now, he had to get warm, and stay hidden. He was alone, at night, in the city, and had no weapons or means to protect himself. He didn't know why that was his first thought, but he needed to regroup and deal with it all in the morning. So he hunkered down behind a large waste bin and wrapped his… robe around his legs. In his mind he was chanting, 'get warm, stay safe,' and he could slowly feel the warmth spread throughout his body from the center. Unknown to him, he was using his magic to protect himself from the elements and the excessively bad people as he fell asleep sitting against the wall.
Too bad that didn't include petty thieves.
When he woke the next morning, he was sans glasses and shoes, but for some reason was still a decent temperature. He figured it was the woolen robe, and brushed it off. He looked through the pockets of what appeared to be a school uniform. In them he found some weird paper, a stick, a feather with ink on the tip, and a few pieces of silver and bronze. Thinking this might get him some real money, he threw all but the coins away and hit the streets. Thanking God he had been sitting on these treasured coins, or he might not have them either.
He walked for a while, not noticing that his feet were not freezing on the cold concrete. He had to get right up to the windows to read the signs, and many of the shop owners chased him away. He stumbled around, until he found a store that bought gold and rare coins.
"Good morning," he stated as he slowly made his way up to the counter. "I found these coins and was wondering if they were really silver and how much I could get for them." He held out two of the silver ones.
The man took them, eyed them carefully, then quirked an eyebrow at the teen and snarled, "Think your funny, do ya? Trying to get me in trouble, are ya?" He slammed the money on the counter and was ready to run the boy off. It had to be a prank or a set up to see if he'd buy them. There was no other reason the kid would come in asking about them. While he had had wizards in the past, they all wanted what that bank Gringotts would give them. They gave the appropriate words that were used in non-magical shops. This kid seemed to want the going prize of precious metal.
"What? They're not real silver then?" was the disappointed sigh. His shoulder slumped in defeat, he had no idea what he was going to do for money now. He didn't think the vendors would take them, especially if they weren't real.
"Oh, no, they be silver alright, but I can't buy them. There is a law against takin' wizard coins," the man sneered as he looked the child up and down, taking in his defeated posture and wondered why he wasn't in school. He didn't look like a street rat. His clothes were new, and he had probably had shoes on last night, judging from his clean feet.
"Wizard coins, what are you on about?" Potter asked with a completely bewildered look on his face.
"Look, kid, I ken give ya what the goblins would, which might be enough to get ya a meal, but you can't sell these to anyone. I ken tell from yer uniform that ya know what I'm talkin' abut," he said, waving his hand at the uniform in question.
"Right, had a bit of an accident, and lost my memory. I did just find these coins in my pocket. Look, here are a few more," the messy-haired teen stated, as he pulled out five more of the silver money. Something in the man's voice renewed his hope.
"Don't know who ya are then? Pity, I might have been able to 'elp. As it is I ken give ya a couple of quid to tide ya over until ya get back to yer school," the man stated as he opened a box under the counter and counted out some money. "Perhaps, ya ken buy some shoes from the junk store, jest down the street," he stated, pointedly looking at the boy's feet.
"Oh, right, shoes," Harry said, and now that he was thinking about it, his feet were getting cold. ' Must have been mind over matter,' he thought.
"'Course, ya could jest wave yer wand and keep them warm," the man said absentmindedly.
"Are you a…. wizard?" the teen asked warily, not really believing the man, but he wanted to see how far the delusion ran.
"Nay, I'm a Muggle, but they let me know when some kids came in with coins like yers. I give them the goin' rate and the goblins fell on me like rabid dogs. I 'ad ter promise ter ne'er to buy them again, accept fer what they give at their bank. I get a sheet once a year tellin' me what's what. The goblins put a spell on me, so I can only talk ter wizard folk," the man said as he noted something in a red ledger.
"Right, Muggle. Well, thanks, and have good morning," Harry said as he scooped up the money and all but ran from the barmy man. It had to be a hustle to keep kids like him from getting the true value of silver. There was no other explanation… goblins indeed. But it wasn't like Harry had many other options, he was basically homeless now. He'd take what he could get, and when he got his memory back perhaps he'd get some payback.
"Get yerself back ta school!" the man yelled as Harry quickly made his exit.
' Wizards,' the boy thought, after the door closed. 'There's no such thing as magic… wait… that sounds familiar…. Where have I heard that from? Think, Harry, if that is your name, think.' But nothing came. His mind was a complete blank as to who he was or where he was from. He knew his name for the men last night, and he knew he was English from his accent. He knew he was a teenager, and that he had been in school, judging from his clothes and height. What he didn't know was how he wound up in that creepy castle, or what crime he might have seen that that weird guy would wipe his memory for, if that was the reason for his amnesia. But he had no other ideas about himself and flat-out refused to believe he was a wizard. 'Everything can be explained through science,' he remembered hearing, just not where from.
He went straightway and purchased a pair of boots from the junk store, though they didn't have socks. So he went without, knowing that he would probably get blisters. There was also a bin of glasses that he tried on until he found some that he could sorta see out of. It was better than seeing the world as one big fuzzy blur that moved. Now only things very far away were unclear around the edges.
He wandered the streets until his tummy rumbled, and then bought the cheapest thing he could. He ate the hot pastry and drank the lukewarm tea, hoping to seep the heat out of them for a while. It was quite cold here in London, which according to the landmarks he recognized, like Big Ben, that's where he was. November was not a good time to be lost in the city.
He ducked the bobbies, because he didn't want to go to an orphanage. He remembered they were bad places, but once again had no clue as to who had told him that. He only knew that he was once scared to death of going there, now that he was a bit more mature he was only cautious.
He could live off the streets, it would be easy.