At the Leaky Cauldron, the old bartender Tom rented him a room without much fuss under the name Harrison Smith.
Harry was quietly astonished at how simple it was — barely any questions about why a ten-year-old boy was booking a room by himself.
Tom recited a well-practiced list of house rules and amenities: mealtimes, room service, bathroom facilities, and the expected standard of behavior.
Harry listened politely, accepted the heavy iron key, and headed upstairs.
He dropped off his shrunken packages in the modest room and returned downstairs.
“Is the room to your satisfaction, young sir?” Tom asked warmly.
“Yes, thank you,” Harry replied.
“I just need to step out for a quick telephone call. I’ll be back shortly.”
He slipped out onto Charing Cross Road and walked a short distance to the familiar red phone box he had spotted earlier.
Fishing a few pence from his pocket, he dialed the number of Privet Drive.
The conversation was brief and brutal.
As soon as Aunt Petunia realized it was him, she launched into a tirade about his ingratitude.
Harry calmly told her he had run away and would not be returning.
Before she could build up to full volume, he hung up.
A heavy sigh of relief escaped him as he stepped out of the phone box.
One less chain binding him.
Back at the Leaky Cauldron, he climbed the stairs and changed into a set of simple, casual wizarding robes.
The fabric felt strange but comfortable against his skin.
He kept his money pouch, document pouch, and the Hogwarts letter with him — he still had supplies to gather, just in case.
Watching a wizard ahead of him tap a specific sequence of bricks on the wall, Harry slipped through the archway right behind him and emerged once more into the vibrant chaos of Diagon Alley.
On his way down the street, he noticed a small building marked “Owl Office,” with owls constantly swooping in and out through high skylights.
Remembering he still needed to return his acceptance letter, he stepped inside.
The idea of using owls as messengers felt both quaint and wondrous.
Harry made a mental note to get one soon.
The Hogwarts letter had even mentioned he was allowed a pet owl.
That settled it.
After unshrinking his purchases in his room, Harry realized just how much he had already acquired — and how much more school equipment he still needed.
Recalling the size of the standard trunks at Porter’s, he began to worry about space.
He might need to buy two.
He would ask Mr. Porter about it.
With a clear plan in mind — trunk first, then the rest of the supplies — Harry headed straight back to Porter’s Portmanteaus.
The portly shopkeeper greeted him cheerfully, complimenting his new wizarding attire.
When Harry explained his need for more spacious luggage, Mr. Porter’s eyes lit up and he led him to a different section of the store.
“Here we have our mokeskin-lined trunks,” the man explained proudly.
“Far more expensive than the standard school model, but they’re charmed with multiple compartments and significantly more interior space than their exterior suggests.”
He opened one to demonstrate.
Harry was impressed — the solution to his storage problem was perfect.
“What other enchantments are available?” Harry asked.
Mr. Porter enthusiastically listed the options while Harry listened carefully.
In the end, he chose a sturdy black school trunk with two expanded compartments.
For security, he had it fitted with a keyless lock that responded only to his magical signature — activated by pressing his thumb on a metal plate.
He also added sturdy wheels on one end and a permanent Featherweight Charm, triggered by touching an embedded rune stone, just as the clerk at Flourish & Blotts had suggested.
Harry paid without hesitation and arranged for the trunk to be delivered to his room at the Leaky Cauldron.
When Mr. Porter asked for the name to emboss on the lid, Harry hesitated.
Finally, with a sigh, he said, “Harry Potter. But please keep it to yourself. I’m trying to stay incognito.”
The shopkeeper recoiled slightly, then leaned in for a closer look.
His eyes widened as they found the lightning-shaped scar beneath Harry’s fringe.
“Well, I’ll be… You really are him.” Straightening up, Mr. Porter studied Harry with renewed curiosity.
“If you’d told me your name earlier, I would have steered you toward our premium models right away.”
Harry scowled.
“I’m serious about staying unnoticed. I don’t like the fame, and I don’t want people mobbing me while I’m trying to shop.”
Mr. Porter nodded respectfully.
“As a high-paying customer, your secret is safe with me, Mr. Potter. If word got out, you’d be swarmed in minutes.”
Harry’s scowl only deepened.
“However,” the shopkeeper added, “you are entitled to have your House crest on the trunk along with your name.”
Harry considered it for a moment.
“Just the name for now. And can the crest area be hidden temporarily? I don’t want anyone seeing it until I board the Hogwarts Express.”
“Certainly. I can apply a Wizard Notice-Me-Not Charm to that section. You can remove it yourself on September 1st with a simple ‘Finite Incantatem’ — just wave your wand over the area and speak the words.”
“Perfect. Please do that,” Harry said with visible relief.
“And when it’s ready, deliver it to The Leaky Cauldron under the name Harrison Smith. Tom is holding things for my… guardian.”
“I can do that easily,” Mr. Porter assured him.
“Tom helps with that sort of thing often.”
“Thank you,” Harry said quietly.
He hated lying, but right now deception was his best shield.
The last thing he needed was to be dragged back to the Dursleys.