harry potter, rise from dust

chapter 19

im posting the last chapters all at once to give myself something to do other than think of my grandmas sudden death 

i dont own

Chapter 19.

3 August 1993.

Emerald eyes roved over the newspaper, the Daily Prophet, as it detailed Ballycastle Bats victory against Montrose Magpies. Grunting in dissatisfaction, Harry flung the newspaper onto the table in front of him. He stretched out his hand for his cup of tea and sipped it. He was having ambivalent feelings over the news. For one thing, he was satisfied to know the Magpies scarcely got a chance to win. On the other hand, he was discontented by the fact the Bats had once more regained their past title as champions.

"Not quite a sight, eh, Harry?" Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, struck a conversation with the young man.

Hoisting his neck up, his eyes hit upon the bartender, Tom, whom was scrubbing the long table near Harry's. Presently, Harry was in the Leaky Cauldron. It was still early in the morning, and he was enjoying his breakfast meal. There were a few people babbling, laughing or minding their own business, and they failed to notice Harry was there amongst them. He was dressed in his signature deep brown coat that reached to his knees and his Ascot hat, along with his non-magical attire.

"Most of us were still quite mad on what the Magpies' beaters did to ya. Why, we ought'a hunt for their blood. We would if it weren't for you telling us not to."

Harry smiled slightly at the wizened, toothless man. "As much as I crave retribution, it's not worth it. Besides, it says here, their skills are not nearly as close to Quigley's, far from it actually. That made my day a little brighter, and at the same it did not. I don't suppose it makes any sense, does it, Tom?"

"No, it makes perfect sense. You wish one rival team to lose badly, yet you don't wish another rival team to be the winner, am I correct?"

"Precisely," Harry muttered dryly, flipping the newspaper over to read it again. "Both teams could've ended in a draw, but the match has to be ended in both sides humiliating one another and by doing so, they make a fool out of themselves. That could've made my day much brighter."

Tom grinned. "Only you would have such imagination, little Harry."

Taking a vicious bite out of his breakfast meal, a deep growl rumbled from Harry's throat. Didn't the people in Diagon Alley ever get the message that he didn't fancy to be called little? For heaven's sake, he's taller compared to how he was back then! A sigh escaped from Harry's mouth. Some things would never change and sadly, one of it is how people in Diagon Alley view him. Curse his shorter height when he was young! Just then, an individual set foot in the Leaky Cauldron, and immediately seized Harry's attention.

"Captain!" Harry called out instinctively, springing up from the chair he sat on.

"Potter?" The person was flabbergasted to stumble upon the teen here of all places in the world. He, then, smiled benignly. "I don't recall being your captain since last year, Potter. A raven notified me you're the captain now, so am I to assume you want me calling you 'captain' from now on too?"

Cheeks stained pink, Harry mumbled, "It's a habit, Barkain... It's hard to tone it down once you get used to it."

Jeffery Barkain was previously the captain of Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He had graduated from Hogwarts at the end of Harry's fourth year. He was an extremely handsome young man with childlike striking features, almond bright eyes and messy brown hair. He was much taller than Harry, lanky with broad shoulders. If Harry's memory served him perfectly, Jeffery was one of the popular guys in Hogwarts and the sole male who behaved differently around Harry than the rest. What Harry meant by differently was Jeffery treating him harshly in training and pushing him to the limits.