So long, London
August 31
Harry's first stop is the Apothecary. Not only does he need to restock his potion supplies, but the Apothecary on the corner of Diagon and Knockturn Alley sells a variety of ready-made potions brewed by masters. They're expensive, and the one he's after will likely be exorbitantly so. But a necessity to ensure he keeps a low profile while wandering around the Alley.
When he pushes open the door, he's greeted with a musical chime and an earthy, sweet smell from the herbs drying in the window.
The shopkeeper is talking to someone at the counter, but she waves a hand at him to acknowledge his entry. Harry bustles around, picking up the supplies he'll need until she's free. The fifth-year supplies are available as a bundle, but after reviewing the list of what's included, he also takes the opportunity to stock up on some items that are useful but not included in the standard kit.
He spares a thought for the unopened supplies list he received from Hogwarts and shrugs. Probably every store will market Hogwarts supplies as packages available by year and course. Even without the list, he should be able to track down everything he'll need, and if something is missed, he'll just place an owl order.
Now that the Triwizard Tournament is over - disastrous as it was - Harry assumes quidditch will be back at Hogwarts, and he'll need to get back in the practice of making the bruise paste and muscle tension relief salve that Oliver taught him the recipes for years ago. Grabbing the ingredients for those and what he'll need for class occupies him until the other patron wanders out, and he approaches the counter.
"Hi love, got all ya need?" The shopkeeper smiles at him, scanning the items piled into the basket. "Hogwarts, then? Fifth year? That should be all ya need unless you plan to experiment on your own."
"Yes, I think I've got all the raw ingredients I need, but I was hoping to pick up some ready-made potions for my own use."
She reaches under the counter and withdraws a small booklet, dropping it open in front of him.
"Here's my latest catalog. The potions listed in black are available now, I've got em in stock in the back. Anything listed in blue would need to be ordered, either because I'm out or because they've gotta be made to order. Wait time for those is listed."
"Great, thank you!"
Harry starts flipping through the catalog, searching for his intended purchase. Unfortunately, when he comes to the section about Polyjuice Potion, it's listed in blue, with a wait time of six weeks. There's also a small note that any polyjuice orders are tracked by the Ministry.
Damn. He hoped to grab a couple doses of polyjuice potion, enough to get through his shopping today and the trip to Kings Cross in the morning without attracting any attention.
Scanning the rest of the page, his eyes pause on an entry just a few spots above the polyjuice -
Notice Me Not Draught - Good for five hours of unobtrusiveness. Will not work if user is behaving in attraction-grabbing behavior. Will not work on anyone with training to look past or in possession of standard wards against such potions (Aurors, Hit Wizards, etc.).
Five galleons per dose.
Harry had never heard of this potion, but figures it must be somehow based on the Notice Me Not spell, which would have been his initial plan if he could use magic over the summer. He never realized there was a potion based on the spell, too, that would have been useful for past summers if he had ever needed a few hours to escape the notice of the Dursleys.
The potions they learn in classes tend to be…not nearly as helpful as this. Shrinking solutions, strengthening solutions…things that would maybe be useful, but there are spell equivalents that take way less time for the same effect. Maybe potions will get more interesting in later years - after the OWL, which Snape uses to pair down students to only the top performers.
Flipping to the start of the catalog, Harry starts scanning the options more closely.
A few minutes later, he's spent a small fortune on ready-made potions and a stasis case that can fit a much larger number of potions than the outside indicates and will prolong the efficacy of everything within it. The shopkeeper, clearly pleased with the pile of galleons he's handing over, recommends he pick up a trunk with a compartment specifically for potions. She seems to think he's a budding potioneer who's buying the potions to study and would appreciate the potion-specific equipment.
Harry can't be bothered with potions, but he does think it's probably time to replace his old secondhand trunk. The runes Hermione added are useful, but they're in no way professional, and at some point, they'll fade and fail. Plus, the trunk is looking a bit dingy.
If he was honest, it had looked dingy the day he picked it out.
Thanking the apothecary owner, Harry tucks his wrapped stasis case - neatly fitting all of his purchases with room to spare - under his arm. Before exiting the Apothecary, glancing back to ensure the shopkeeper wasn't paying attention, he downs the one potion he left out - the Notice Me Not Draught. Five hours should be more than enough time to make all of his purchases and get back to the Leaky.
He doesn't feel any different after swallowing down the foul-tasting potion - somehow tasting like both rotten meat and overly sweet candy floss - but when he steps outside and begins walking down Diagon to the luggage store, he notes people's eyes skimming over him despite avoiding him when walking past, so he reckons it must be working exactly as advertised.
A luggage store is just a few doors down - Carriages & Containers, Inc. and within a few minutes, he's picked out a wood and leather steamer trunk with six compartments with built-in protections against spell, potion, fire, and water damage. It's also got an advanced locking system based on both a spoken password and blood wards - although the latter is only on the two innermost compartments. Harry already knows his most valuable items will be placed there - his firebolt, the Marauder's Map, his invisibility cloak, and the photo album Hagrid gave him years ago.
Other trunks were similarly protected, but what really sold him on this one - despite the high price point - was the clever spellwork placed on the innermost compartment (one of the blood-warded ones) that had an array of runes that somehow amounted to a combination of a locator spell and something like a time-delayed accio charm - or maybe a conjuring charm. If an item was removed from the compartment and not returned within a certain number of hours (Harry asked the shopkeeper to set it for twenty-four), it would automatically be pulled back into the trunk as long as it wasn't completely destroyed.
After seeing exactly how protected his most precious items could have been all this time, Harry was a bit ashamed he'd been leaving them just tossed into the one unprotected compartment his previous trunk had. Harry also picks up a new enchanted school bag and pays extra for his initials to be added to the shiny brown leather. When he leaves the luggage store - potions case stored in his new trunk, which was then shrunk down to just barely bigger than his hand and tucked away in his new bag, Harry realizes he's spent more money between the first two shops he's visited today than he spent total on back to school shopping any other year - even his first year when he had to buy a wand and other items that have lasted him this whole time.
Harry aims for Flourish and Botts, but Madame Malkins across the Alley catches his eye. Glancing down at the ripped jeans and grubby t-shirt, all of which had been passed down by Dudley and so are hanging off of him, Harry decides to continue the trend of spending a truly outrageous amount of money. A new wardrobe sounds like just the thing he needs.
Crossing the street, he opens the stained glass door and wanders in. He has a few moments to trail his fingers across the bolts of fabric on the shelves along the wall before Madame Malkin herself comes bustling out from the back room, alerted to his presence by the bell above the door he set off upon entering.
He can tell her eyes are about to wander off from him, thanks to the notice me not draught, so he hurries to keep her attention.
"Hello, Madame, I'd like to purchase a new set of Hogwarts robes, but I'm also in need of an updated wardrobe."
She blinks at him momentarily and then scans him up and down. Madame Malkin must be skilled at controlling her face as he picks up on only the tiniest sneer of disapproval at his clothing before it blanks out into a pleasant, neutral expression again.
"Of course, young sir. I'd be happy to design clothing for you. Let's get you fitted, and then we can discuss the specifics." She gestures towards one of the raised circular disks. Harry climbs it, faces the mirror opposite, and has to refrain from a wince. In the bright sunlight beaming in the many windows, his jeans look dirtier and his shirt more threadbare than he thought. He looks away from his outfit, but then his gaunt face catches his attention.
Honestly, he looks like he's been living on the streets for months - dirty, hungry, and exhausted.
Madame Malkin's tape measure begins flying around him, measuring everything from his waist to foot length to the length of his nose. Behind him, the seamstress is methodically floating various bolts of fabric from the shelves into neat piles.
Eventually, the tape measure snaps itself back up into a neat roll, and Madame Malkin makes her way over to him, bolts of black fabric floating behind her.
"Now, you asked for a wardrobe, but how extensive of a wardrobe were you thinking? And did you just need robes, or would you like trousers and shirts too?"
"Yes, to all of it, please." He tells her. "In fact, assume I don't own any clothing at all and will need to purchase everything brand new."
She smiles, a gleam of excitement in her eyes, and with another wave of her wand, the additional piles of fabric fly toward them.
"Excellent, sir. Let's begin."
The next hour is spent discussing clothing in a multitude of ways that Harry had never really considered before - not just the color, but the weight and texture of the fabric, the fit, and how it would be impacted by what else he was wearing. He even gets caught up listening to Madame Malkin's opinions on what jewelry and other accessories should go with each outfit. In short, it was about 59 minutes more than Harry had ever spent considering his clothing all in one go. It did provide him with a crash course in Wizarding fashion, however, and as the seamstress wraps up the few items ready now in brown packaging, Harry ponders the fact that until now, he's never really had the opportunity to develop his own style. Or even just his own preferences.
While making selections with Madame Malkin, he tended towards muted colors (although she had talked him into a few jewel tones that she said would set off his eyes quite nicely). But where he really was extravagant was the fabric choices. He leaned towards silks and cashmere, and there were even a few velvet pieces. Apparently, when Harry had a choice about it, he wanted to wear clothing that wasn't just comfortable but was damn near luxurious in the way it felt on his skin.
He purchased enough in standard linen and cotton that he wouldn't look like a tosser at Hogwarts, but he thought once he received all of it, he could mix and match and ensure that at least one or two soft items were worn with each outfit. As he ran his fingers across the silk shirt Madame Malkin had him change into immediately, he found it soothing.
Looking back into the mirror at his appearance, the raggedy boy he was just an hour ago had disappeared. With disheveled clothing, his unhealthy appearance stuck out all the more. In pressed slacks and a polished silk button down, his prominent cheekbones and strong jaw looked…
He looked like…someone. Harry watches in the mirror as a line appears between his brows, and a frown grows. He knows he looks like someone, but who?
His thoughts are interrupted by Madame Malkin stepping towards him and aiming a smile at him through the mirror. "Here you are, love." She says as she hands over the package. "This has your Hogwarts robes and a few pieces that will get you through the next week. Everything else, I'll have delivered by next Saturday."
"Thank you, Madame Malkin. I appreciate the quick service and your assistance today."
"It was my pleasure. I've kept your measurements and notes on what you purchased today. Should you need anything more, feel free to owl me. You make sure to visit the cobbler like we discussed; he's just five doors down from me."
Tucking his new clothes away in his bag, Harry promises to pick up new shoes without any holes in them. As the seamstress steps away, back behind her counter to make a note of something - probably his purchases, the light outside changes. A cloud covers the sun, and the bright light that had been filtering into the shop dims and turns everything into tones of sepia. Blinking as his eyes try to adjust to the sudden change, Harry catches sight of himself again in the mirror.
He looks like Tom Riddle, he suddenly realizes. Tom Riddle from the diary memory.
It's not just the new and upscale clothing or even his neater hairstyle that, upon reflection, is very similar to Riddle's.
It's something in his expression, he thinks. Even with a pleasant smile on his face after dealing with Madame Malkin - the same expression he's been adopting all morning when talking to shopkeepers - there's something tucked away in the corner of his mouth, in his clenched jaw, in his eyes, that Harry saw in Tom Riddle's expression as well.
Anger.
Well, Harry thinks, he did say we were similar.
Turning his back on the mirror, Harry heads towards the exit and steps back out onto the main street of Diagon Alley. Business had picked up while he was occupied with the seamstress, and the street was packed. Glancing at his watch, he's already halfway through the dose of Notice Me Not Draught he took. He has more, but he'd like to ration it out. Vowing not to spend nearly as long at the rest of the shops as he did at Madame Malkins, Harry shuffles through the crowd and goes next door into Amanuensis Quills to stock up on his writing supplies. Hopefully, he can finish the rest of his purchases in time for a late lunch at the Leaky and then an early retreat to the privacy and quiet of his rented room.
Luckily, the rest of his shopping goes quickly, and he's able to collect everything he needs for the new year, as well as replace some old equipment and supplies that need to be tossed out. He spent most of his time looking at books, both at Flourish and Botts and in a secondhand bookshop.
If he was going to take his OWLs and NEWTs early, he'd need all the extra study material he could get his hands on. Through some wandering in Flourish and Botts, he had found what he thought might become his holy grail - official study guides from the Ministry for every testing subject they offered. Self-updating to reflect any curriculum added or removed from the tests, including flip-out practice test sections.
He purchased the OWL and NEWT options for every class he took and, on a whim, even threw in the books for Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Muggle Studies. Although Hogwarts didn't offer courses on the subjects, he also saw OWL and NEWT guides on Healing and Dueling that he picked up. He might only be aiming for the DADA tests to take early, but he assumed he'd probably want to go back and take more eventually.
Finally, he rounded out his errands by returning to several stores that had needed a few hours to finish his purchases.
As suggested (more like demanded) by Madame Malkin, the cobbler handed over four pairs of new shoes. Two pairs of day-to-day dress shoes, in black and brown, to wear with his uniform. One pair of the wizarding equivalent of sneakers to wear on the weekends. And finally, one pair of dragon hide boots enchanted to withstand everything short of an unforgivable.
The occumage, who gave him two new pairs of glasses - the same shape as his current rounded ones, but in gold instead of cheap black plastic. He also picked up several doses of a potion that would improve his eyesight. It took weekly applications for about six months, so it would be a while before he could ditch the glasses entirely. Unfortunately, while the effects would be permanent, the potion itself was only good for around six weeks, so he'd have to make regular owl orders. It'd give Hedwig something to do, he figured.
It's not like he'd have many others he'd be writing to in the future. Not after the way each and every person he cared about this summer turned their backs on him.
And his last stop of the day, a return to Quality Quidditch Supplies to pick up his new protective quidditch gear. Earlier, he had splurged, and in addition to the new quidditch gloves and a few practice snitches, he'd ordered professional quidditch armor, specially designed for seekers, to be worn underneath a regular Quidditch uniform. It'd give him some extra padding without weighing him down too much, and the built-in enchantments and spells - while totally legal within quidditch rules, might give him a bit of an edge on the pitch.
Although granted, seeing as the other Hogwarts seekers were all from pure-blooded families, they probably already owned a set.
Or at least - the seekers from Slytherin and Ravenclaw were pure-bloods. Harry remembers with a wince.
They'll have to replace Diggory this year.
Shuddering at the reminder, Harry exits Quality Quidditch Supplies. Running through his mental list of things he needs to buy, he thinks he's done for today and is just turning towards the Leaky Cauldron when something catches his eye, and he comes to a sudden stop.
Sidestepping out of the main walkway, Harry sinks back into the shadow of the Quality Quidditch sign and watches across the street as Molly Weasley and Remus Lupin exit the Apothecary. They're both looking at a piece of parchment Mrs. Weasley is holding open and speaking quietly to each other.
When Mrs. Weasley begins to roll the parchment up, and they both raise their heads, Harry quickly turns his face away from him. The Notice Me Not Draught has done an excellent job of letting him slip beneath the radar. There have been a few times when someone's eyes caught on him for just a moment too long, and whenever he noticed it, he'd just slip away - into another shop, into a different aisle, anything to get out of sight of whoever might have recognized him. Since he hadn't heard anyone calling after him or any whispers of "Harry Potter visiting Diagon Alley," he assumed he'd managed to get away from people before they worked through whatever fog of unrecognizability the potion gave him.
He didn't know how well it would work on two people who knew him, and today has gone too well to be ruined now by either of these people recognizing him.
Harry's not sure which would be worse - a confrontation if they felt the need to speak to him or if they recognized him and then just…turned away. Ignored him like they had been all summer.
Tilting his head so he could still see them out of his peripheral vision, but they wouldn't be able to see his entire face, Harry watches as they move down the street. Lupin carries several packages, and Harry can tell by the wrapping that they're from several different stores.
Are they doing school shopping for the others? He wonders. He can't imagine Mrs. Weasley and Lupin knew each other well enough to do their shopping together, but he's also not sure why Lupin would be helping Mrs. Weasley with her kids' shopping. Or why they'd be doing it this late.
As they continue further down the Alley, Harry shrugs off the almost-encounter. He doesn't know why they're here or why they're here together. And after a moment of thought, he decides he doesn't care.
The Weasleys, Sirius, Hermione…they all made it clear how they viewed Harry this summer. Not important.
Not important enough to bother speaking to, or check in with, despite everything that had happened in June. Not important enough to try and support him when he was on trial for underage magic. Not even important enough to bother asking why he had used underage magic.
Hell, Lupin had made his view of Harry's importance in the older man's life known years ago. Not just when he disappeared after his third year, but, in truth - years prior. The last true friend of his parents who wasn't in Azkaban, and the man had never bothered to look in on Harry after the murder of Lily and James Potter.
Standing there in the shadows of Diagon Alley, the crowd bustling around him, Harry reminded himself of the fact that he had always known. A fact that became clear to him when he was still a child, sleeping in a cupboard. A fact that Harry had forgotten the last few years when he was distracted with new friends and a giant castle with hidden passageways and talking portraits. That he'd forgotten because he was too dazzled by magic to remember a foundational truth to his life.
Harry Potter was alone.
He had been since October 31, 1981, when his only chance at a true childhood died in a flash under a madman's wand.
Harry Potter was alone in life, and at least by recognizing this truth and accepting it, he thought maybe it could stop hurting so damn much when this fact proved true over and over and over again.
*
The morning of September 1 dawned bright and early for Harry. He had retreated to the Leaky Cauldron the afternoon before and spent the afternoon and early evening repacking his new trunk and sorting through his old belongings to determine what should be kept.
Every piece of clothing from the Dursleys was tossed in the small fireplace in his room, along with the rest of the trash and random detritus the bottom of his trunk had accumulated. Although it was too hot for a fire, the magic Harry had discovered and come to control this summer was an easy solution. Holding his hand above the small pile of clothing, Harry allowed a few bolts of electricity to jump from his hand to the cloth, and within minutes, it had caught flame. Harry spent a few moments watching the threadbare and worn-down clothing burn to nothing by ash and then firmly turned his back on them.
He spent some time focused on enabling the protections around the innermost compartments of his trunk. Using one of his new knives for potions class, Harry carefully draws blood from his index finger, smears it on the lock, and whispers his carefully chosen password to set everything. As the shop worker had promised, the trunk glows with a soft white light to indicate that the protections have taken effect.
His password had been chosen entirely at random. He had weighed the choices of using things like Lily, Nimbus, Hedwig, or other things that had some significance to him. But, on additional thought, all of those could be guessed. Instead, he'd pulled out his History of Magic book, flipped to a random page, and chosen the first name that had stuck out to him.
He didn't know who Ignotus Peverell was - he hadn't bothered reading the section where he was mentioned - but Harry figured his first name would work as a password just fine.
With the protections enabled, Harry gently laid his most precious belongings safely within. The map, the cloak, the photo album, and his broom. While not anywhere close to the same level of sentimental care, out of an abundance of caution, Harry also placed his Gringotts keys and leftover money inside. He doesn't think Ron or his dorm mates would go so far as to steal money from him, but Ron has helped himself to some chocolate frogs and class notes before, and he'd rather no one see just how much money he's got stashed away in the trunk.
Following an early dinner, Harry asked Tom if he'd be willing to bring a few of his old things to a secondhand store after Harry left, with the benefit of being able to keep whatever small amount they were worth.
After the barkeeper glanced over the small pile of things Harry wasn't bringing to Hogwarts with him - his old trunk, the scratched and scuffed old pewter cauldron, the telescope he had to fiddle with the parts each time he wanted to use, and the tall stack of Lockhart books - Tom had said he wouldn't keep the money outright, but as the shop would be closed by now, Tom had given him five galleons for the lot of it and said the secondhand shop wouldn't pay much more for it. With a wave of his wand, everything flew into the trunk, which then followed Tom downstairs.
Relieved to be free of it all, Harry then made a short list on some parchment of a few items he wanted to pick up in Muggle London on his way to Kings Cross. He wouldn't have a ton of time before the train, but he figured if he could be at the shops when they opened around 8 o'clock, that'd give him a couple hours to do some more shopping before heading to Kings Cross for the Hogwarts Express. Before leaving Gringotts in the morning, he'd thought to ask Alurus to convert some galleons into pounds, and while he wanted to save most of it - just in case - he still had several hundred pounds he could spend without making much of a dent in the small pile of bills.
When Harry wakes with the sunrise, he spends a few extra moments in the en suite bathroom. There's not much he can do about the hollows of his cheeks or the dark circles under his eye - prominent even after sleeping for nearly eleven hours - but by the time he exits, his hair is perfectly in place, and he's dressed in neat slacks and a gray button down. His Hogwarts robes are tucked away in the very top of his trunk. He'll pull them out once he's reached the Express, but for now - despite it all being purchased in Diagon Alley, his outfit will pass in Muggle London without any second looks.
Harry packs his last few things and then presses the subtle button near the lock on his trunk, causing it to shrink small enough to fit in his bag. Softly closing the door to his rented room behind him, Harry proceeds downstairs where he greets Tom - the other Tom the Barkeep, bald and humpbacked, who covers the night shift at the Leaky - and asks for tea and toast for breakfast. Tom answers with a smile, and within 40 minutes of waking, Harry is checked out of the Leaky and returns to Muggle London. With three hours before the Hogwarts Express departs there's more than enough time for a bit more shopping and to still arrive at Platform 9/4 before it gets crowded.
Harry slips confidently in and out of Muggle shops, picking up things like pencils and spiral-bound notebooks, denim jeans, snacks and sweets he's watched Dudley eat, and a few Muggle fiction books. Nothing so crucial that he couldn't live without it, but little things that will make school a bit easier or more enjoyable, or even just things that he's never gotten to purchase before, so he buys them for himself simply to try. Harry's past the point of denying himself small comforts now.
Once it approaches ten o'clock, he finds an empty alley where he can stand behind a few bins and be blocked from sight of any passersby. He quickly unshrinks his trunk again to tuck away all his shopping bags. He'll have to sort it out and put it in the appropriate compartment once he reaches the Gryffindor dorm room tonight, but it'll be fine for now.
Shopping packed away, Harry glances around again before withdrawing his invisibility cloak. Within a few moments, the alley is deserted again.
*
By the time Harry passes through the barrier, Platform 9 ¾ isn't empty, but it's nowhere near as crowded as it'll be closer to eleven. Most of his schoolmates with at least one Wizarding parent will apparate or floo in, usually arriving within just a few minutes of the train departing. The Express never seems to run out of seats after all, so there's no need to arrive overly early.
Those standing around the Platform now - just past ten-fifteen, are mostly overly excited first years or muggleborns whose travel schedule would be impacted by traffic or public transportation delays, and so they've arrived extra early to ensure they don't miss the train. It always irritated him that, for some reason, the Weasleys insisted on arriving via the muggle side of the barrier but still didn't leave early enough to make it through various delays on the way. When Harry arrived with them, they had never arrived at the Platform before a few minutes before the train left, and the morning was always full of chaos and stress.
So it's a relief to Harry now, as he can make his way easily through the uncrowded Platform and find an empty compartment. He draws the curtains facing the train walkway closed, hoping people will take that as the usual sign of "Do not disturb," but sits under the invisibility cloak and watches the Platform outside as it slowly fills up over the next forty-five minutes.
The train is rumbling beneath him, and voices in the hallways outside are nearly constant before he sees a crowd of redheads come through the barrier. And…yes, there's Hermione, a solitary brown head mixed in with all the red. As the whole group comes onto the Platform, Harry sees Tonks, Lupin, and even Professor Moody - assumingly the real one - and a few others that Harry doesn't recognize are all grouped around the younger Weasleys, almost like they're guarding them.
Guarding from who or what, Harry has no idea. He'd certainly managed to wander through Diagon Alley and Muggle London unobtrusively and without issue all by himself. No guards needed. And besides, a spiteful voice in the corner of his mind says, why the hell do they deserve protection when I was left to fend for myself? I'm the one that Voldemort actually has a problem with - he'd probably kill the Weasleys and Hermione if given the chance, but it's doubtful he gives a single fuck about them.
Harry tries to ignore the voice and the slowly igniting fire in his belly, but then…then he sees something that causes the rage to climb, overtaking his stomach and flooding into his throat until he feels like he'll choke on his anger.
It's Sirius, in his grim form, coming through the barrier at the very end of the group, and he's jumping and dancing around the whole clump of people joyfully. Padfoot jumps up, front legs balancing on Ron's shoulders as he licks Ron's cheek until Ron laughingly shoves him off.
Harry's hands are shaking, he realizes. And there's a weight on his chest slowly crushing him.
Incensed, Harry watches as Sirius seemingly says goodbye to all of the younger set, everyone heading off for Hogwarts. Everyone, that is, except for his godson. The adults are trying to control him, and Lupin and Moody are pulling Padfoot away from the kids so the rest of the guard can make their own goodbyes. Moody looks irritated, and Lupin is fondly exasperated.
Harry watches it all and observes the hugs that Molly Weasley disperses, the quiet words and grips on shoulders from Arthur Weasley. Even Lupin, Tonks, and the others all take a few moments to say goodbye to the Hogwarts students. At no point do any of them - not Hermione, not Ron, not Padfoot, or Moony look around to try and spot Harry. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley aren't scanning the Platform to see if they can spot him. The aurors - Moody and Tonks, and maybe the other strangers, aren't canvassing the area for anyone in particular. Padfoot might be looking towards the train, but Harry can't really tell, and it's only for a few seconds before he's up again, weaving between the legs of the group, accepting pats and scratches from the group.
Abruptly, Harry smells smoke and looks away from the window, then forces himself to release his hands from where he is gripping the seat. There are small burn marks in the shape of his fingers, and he pats the black marks quickly to put out any lingering sparks.
Harry wonders what they've been told about Harry this summer. Do they think the Dursleys would bring him to King's Cross? Do they think they all need guards to make it here, but he'd be fine taking the train alone? Or maybe they were told that someone else was picking him up - maybe Dumbledore or a contingent of aurors?
Turning back to look out the window, Harry sees that the younger group has made it on the train, just in time it seems, as he feels the rumble beneath his feet from the engine begin to increase. Based on where the adults are all staring, they must be a few compartments up from where Harry himself is.
He's glad they haven't found him. Harry doesn't think he could have controlled his temper if they had wandered into his compartment and tried to greet him like everything was fine or given any reasons as to why he'd been abandoned all summer.
Well, he figures, supposed I'll hear all of that tonight. Either at the feast or in the dorm. Settling back in his seat, Harry tells himself to enjoy the hours on the train. They'll be solitary and quiet, but that's precisely what he needs right now.