If people were acting like Harry was a Godric-damned hero, they had yet to inform him of it. He hadn't been the one to finish Voldemort, even if he'd spent years just making it possible, but no one knew about that part. His face had been plastered on wanted posters, all of which were gone now so far as he could tell, and he was a part of the Ministry rather than wanted by it. That didn't change the fact that people still looked at him wherever he went, and the vast majority of them were not respectful looks. Curious, mostly, and wary; some were actually afraid.
He had avoided hate since his reappearance in the wizarding world, for the most part. At least, none of the hatred or dislike had been voiced directly to his face. Until now, it seemed.
Zach Smith was easily recognizable; he'd been a bit of a stranger to Harry upon first seeing him at Colin's party, but it had been years before seeing him then. There had only been written communication before that, which had mostly involved a lot of cursing and vehement, capslocked letters.
So, he knew that Zach had a problem with him, and he knew why. He wasn't afraid of Zach; he'd faced down much scarier people and situations to feel fear of the man in front of him. That didn't stop his usual paranoia from kicking in, wondering if Zach was alone or if he'd brought someone else, if he'd brought someone who should be feared. There were still Death Eaters about, and if Smith hated Harry enough, he could have formed some kind of alliance, or - well, that was a fairly drastic scenario, but who really knew? Harry didn't. For all that he understood Zach's motives, or thought he did, he didn't know the blonde well enough to gauge what he might do about them.
A frown furrowed his brow, and even as he mentally gauged the situation, he wondered precisely what about his countenance had made the other man think he looked pleased with himself. He'd just been walking, not thinking about anything in particular except lunch. But he'd been accused of much more for doing much less.
"Let me guess," he said, a dry note to his voice, "Whatever it is you think I'm doing, you're here to stop me."