Harry just wanted to get distracted. He’d had a long sleep at Grimmauld’s, and then made his way to stroll around the centre of London, looking around and using magic freely left and right. The Ministry wouldn’t track him anyway, so Harry didn’t have to worry about the consequences of breaching the Statute. It could have been fun, even amusing, but he had no one to share those feelings with. Harry was already getting sick of the repetitive conversations, and the only person who could understand him was stubborn as hell and denied himself the smallest of human pleasures — that is if you omitted the part where he was a total arsehole.