Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter or the characters that are owned solely by J.K. Rowling.
Authors Note: All right guys this is the first chapter and basically a bit of a trial run for me. Let me know what you think.
"Even if you fall on your face, you're still moving forward."
Victor Kiam
Chapter 1
…And that's how it ended. He had shed no tears; there was no remorse, besides he did it for her. He knew he didn't feel as strongly for her as she did for him. He loved her there was no doubt about that, but something just wasn't there that he had felt before. And so he left. He knew he could never let her go if he stayed in England. He couldn't stand to be around her and not call her his own but he could never call her his if she couldn't call him hers. Of course she had been devastated, but she now had another shot to be even happier. As Dumbledore would say "it was for the Greater Good." She was angry with him, she yelled at him. She didn't understand, but someday she would understand and she would look back and think of Harry with a smile on her face and a fond memory in her heart.
Where could he go though, he was too ashamed to show his face at The Burrow, he didn't want to do what he did but he simply had too. The Dursley's just weren't an option. I'd rather be crucio'd he thought grimly. Hermione was probably consoling Ginny as he spoke. Malfoy? Eh… maybe. Now I'd rather be crucio'd he amended. Sirius and Remus were as of yet still off on business for Dumbledore and who knew when they would even return. No, Harry Potter was alone in this world.
The Leaky Cauldron was lively as ever when Harry walked through the door. It suited him that no one seemed to notice his arrival. Harry approached Tom the barkeep at the front counter whom was wiping some cups with a rag while humming a slightly off-key tune to himself.
Tom shifted his eyes from the cup to Harry, "Greetings! Mr. Potter" he called warmly.
"Hello Tom, I'll just need a room for the night and a warm meal."
"Certainly, what meal would you like for dinner tonight?" Tom asked handing menu to Harry.
Harry briefly looked at the menu before making a final decision
"Chicken and vegetables would be nice," Harry responded.
"Of course of course," Tom responded politely. "Your room is going to be number six, now if you'll hold out your wand hand so I can get your magical signature for the room."
Harry stuck out his right hand towards the barkeeper who without a word waved his wand over Harry's hand, other than a slight tingling sensation up his right arm the swish seemed to have no effect.
"Okay then, I guess everything seems to be in order," Tom finalized.
Taking the opportunity to take his leave with a thoroughly unfinished day ahead of him Harry still had plenty of time to brood, only getting broken from his train of thought by the occasional "Hello Mr. Potter" or "Good afternoon Harry." Then he would half heartedly return the greeting and sink back into his booth and thoughts in the corner of the small, crowded pub.
As six o' clock rolled around Harry was still sitting in the same seat and was still absently staring at the same spot on the wall, if it had been anyone but Harry Potter people would have thought he was a bit off in the head. Then again it was Harry Potter so they probably thought he was downright crazy. Harry was once again spared from his thoughts as he noticed Tom approaching with his meal.
"Ahh, thank you Tom, this really looks delicious" Harry said sincerely as Tom set the food before him.
"I assure you Mr. Potter it was no problem."
"Still, your efforts are appreciated just the same," Harry complimented. "Also if you don't mind would you please bring me a copy of today's 'Dailey Prophet'?"
"Of course I can." Tom made an about face and Harry watched as the aging man hobbled through the maze of chairs, tables, and people bustling about, he reached the counter where a stack of newspapers were sitting. Grabbing one of the news papers he set back to the far side of the pub where Harry sat taking his first bites of his meal.
Harry muttered a quick "thank you" and handed the man a couple of Galleons before Tom turned and walked away to attend to the many other patrons that sat eating, talking, and otherwise set about to making as much commotion as possible.
Harry sat enjoying the well prepared meal as he lightly skimmed 'The Daily Prophet'. There wasn't much news worth noting the headline was of the growing problem of Alihotsy abuse and explained that getting over the addiction of this drug was definitely very difficult and could only be done through weaning the addict of the drug slowly, if you cut an addict off all at one time they could suffer serious psychiatric effects and in extreme cases seizures or death. The article then went on to explain the different symptoms of the drug. The drug caused a sort of euphoria that would make a user so happy in an almost manic way. One symptom that may mark a user of the drug is the addict's easy compliance for whatever request they may be given especially when they were suffering withdrawals from the drug. Their judgment of when they should be afraid would be seriously altered making them sometimes be afraid even if someone only got stern with them and sometimes be unafraid of anything when they are in a potentially dangerous situation.
Harry discarded the article as unimportant and moved on to some side stories. The articles were starting to run together as he paid less and less attention to each passing article. The most information he got from the paper was that some lady got an award for discovering a something for a something that had to do with a potion, an Ex-Auror who was widely known and respected passed away this week, and the French National team is few on players this year.
Once finishing off the last piece of steamed broccoli Harry abandoned his booth and set up the stairs to the sixth room. At the top of the stairs he was in a narrow hallway with a parallel hallway and a shorter hallway connecting the two at the middle. Tripping over the old rug that lined the floor all the way down the hall Harry made his way six rooms down the first hall.
Harry noticed there were exactly ten rooms in the first main hallway and assumed the second main hallway was identical and there were no rooms except a small door marked maintenance closet in the conjoining hallway. As soon as his hand came into contact with the door knob Harry felt the same slight tingle that he had felt previously when Tom linked him as the renter of this room therefore granting him access to the room. Harry slowly turned the knob and stepped into his temporary home.
The room had a lumpy looking four-poster bed against the wall across from the window that looked out over Diagon Alley and to the immediate right after entering was a small bathroom with a sink, mirror, toilet, and stand-up shower.
Going to the bed Harry pulled his magically shrunken trunk out of his pocket and set it on the end of the bed to return it to its normal size. Lying across the bed next to the trunk Harry let out a sigh that seemed to vocalize every single emotion that went through the head of the still adolescent seventeen year old boy.
Having stripped down to all but his trousers he turned on the shower and waited for the hot water to flow. Feeling the water come to the appropriate temperature he finished undressing and stepped into the shower. The pressure of the hot water against his skin seemed to wash away every bad feeling and every one of his regrets like a masseuse would massage away the sore muscles in your back and soon enough nothing but the pure pleasure of taking a hot shower was his life.
"A hot shower, definitely one of the finer things in life," He said to himself.
Getting out of the shower Harry wiped the foggy mirror to get a better look at his flushed face. He could still see a thin layer of dirt that hadn't been fully washed away, he turned the knob to get the hot water flowing and grabbed a rag that was hanging on a rack to his left. He ran the rag under the water and started dabbing at his face erasing every mark of dirt that had been left on his face. Abandoning the rag Harry took another look in the mirror.
'All seems to be intact, still got the scar, green eyes, and messy black hair' He thought to himself
Back in the main part of his room Harry had begun his daily workout, having finished his push-ups he had began his first repetition of sit-ups. Reinforcing the cross beam that ran between the two end posts of the bed so that it would not break beneath his weight he started doing pull-ups. He knew this was hardly a proper workout routine like the ones he used to awake early at 'the Burrow' to do every morning; normally he would take a run around the small lake and also do his push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and various other exercises, but this would just have to suffice.
Completing his severely skimped routine Harry moved to settle onto the bed to get a long night's sleep. He lay slightly crooked with his head on the left corner of the head of the bed and his feet on the opposite corner, he turned in discomfort to his opposite side and found no more comfort in this position. He continued to move back and forth all night trying to find just the perfect spot and position to lie in. When he found that he was too hot under the blankets he would shift them off of his body only to find himself too cold.
After hours of tossing and turning Harry's eyes managed to flutter closed long enough to find some sleep half way through the night. His sleep was restless and the dreams haunted him with images of terrible things happening to his loved ones.
He awoke in the morning more tired than he had been when he went to sleep. Feeling like too little skin had been stretched over too much body at some point in the night he decided to take another shower to alleviate himself from this slimy morning feeling. Grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste from the counter he brushed his teeth and went back to his trunk to get out a black sweater and blue jeans. After putting on his clothes he grabbed a pair of socks and put on his raggedy black shoes.
He went downstairs to the pub to get breakfast and ate silently back in the booth he claimed the night before while listening to the conversation of two middle-aged wizards one booth down about the French quidditch team holding tryouts.
"If I weren't five years younger," the man on the far side of the booth remarked with a lopsided smile.
"Heh! You'd best make it twenty!" the closer, more scraggly man smirked.
"Eh, screw off," the first man joked. "You're probably right though," he agreed glumly.
"But I do hear Mr. Rousseau has been looking for talent and sent some scouts even here to England!" The other man said excitedly.
"Could you imagine an English-man playing for a French team?" He laughed.
"I kind of like the idea, it shows that once again they need us!" The man teased lightly.
"I think my son could have a go at that tryout, what do you think Greg?" He asked hopefully.
"Yeah, he is good I don't know if he's pro status but really Sam your son is definitely good and believe me on that," the man Harry now knew to be Greg disagreed politely.
"Well, the tryouts are invite only so I doubt they would give too many people a shot without some serious recommendations anyway," conceded Sam a little put out.
Harry turned his ears from the two men's conversation to let them have their privacy. Finishing his breakfast he got up and walked into the small courtyard behind the 'Leaky Cauldron' he counted out the appropriate bricks that would gain him access to the alley on the opposite side of the brick wall. The alley was crowded after all being late July it wasn't that far off from September and people would want to do their school shopping fairly early.
The rest of the day was spent looking around Diagon Alley making his way through the hustle and bustle of the peoples shopping errands. All of the people in the Alley always seemed to congregate to wherever it was that Harry was trying to go. He decided to head to Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor to start off his day with a little bit of a treat. He bought a butter-crunch ice cream cone and moved on to wander the rest of the alley. He made his way pushing through the crowd to Flourish and Blott's bookstore and entered via the front door.
"Can I get you anything, son?" the book-keeper asked hopefully.
"No thank you, I'm just looking around," Harry replied not once looking at the man but instead at the towers of books surrounding the shop.
"All right, but if you need any help feel free to ask," the shop-keeper responded dejectedly.
Harry walked down the aisles of books looking for books that he may find useful or books of general interest. Amongst the books on the shelves he found mostly defensive magic books and very few books that contained anything about the dark arts. He skimmed through some of the spells and techniques in the books and decided that they were worth reading.
He grabbed a few of the books that he would classify as 'defensive dark arts' rather than just the 'dark arts'. He shot straight to the book-keeper who gave a wary glance when he saw Harry's reading material but rung up the books and sent Harry on his way with minimal chatter.
Some of the crowd had dispersed from the alley and Harry could now get a better look at the shops that lined the side of the street. One shop down from Flourish and Blott's was Madame Malkin's robe shop which had stylish wizard dress-ware on display in the window. He entered the shop and before expressing an interest in buying anything Madame Malkin had started taking measurements and offering various outfits to him. She managed to convince him to buy a nice set of robes that she insisted flattered his features.
The ever busy Weasley's Wizard Wheezes joke shop was booming with business as Harry was walking by. He took a moment to decide if he should go have a word with the Weasley twins. Harry decided to take a rain check on that after seeing the scowls on the faces of two angry Weasleys armed with a substantial amount of dangerous, painful, and frankly embarrassing joke items. Apparently a certain sister hadn't kept her sorrows to herself.
The rest of the day went on without much interest. Vendors at the stalls would shout out their products to him as he passed by. Some sold food, others sold trinkets, and one man sold necklaces that had a weak cheering charm on them to make the wearer happier. Harry knew that many of the times the items sold by the vendors were highly overpriced and the charms placed on the trinkets would wear off sooner or later. The phrase you get what you pay for doesn't really apply here.
The darkening sky and the glow of the restaurants and clubs that attracted a night life to the street was like a queue for Harry to head back to the quiet pub. Walking back to the Leaky Cauldron was a short walk with little disturbance. After entering room number 6 on the second floor of the pub Harry dropped onto his bed fully clothed and fell asleep instantly.
The new days would bring new faces to the alley. There would be different vendors on certain days of the week while some days would bring different shoppers. Harry recognized very few people whereas most of which recognized him.
"It's no wonder I should meet you here of all places."
Harry turned around slightly startled by the sudden intrusion of his personal space. The man before him wore a black suit of an expensive taste and his shoes had more than likely been polished that very day. He had a large mustache that looked as if he had spent a large portion of his morning making sure it was all in order. His right wrist donned a watch and his left hands fourth finger was encircled by a ring of white gold. The man stood slightly shorter than Harry and appeared to have eaten a few more meals than Harry as well.
"I'm sorry; I don't believe we've met have we?" Harry questioned.
"Oh I am terribly sorry Mr. Potter. Allow me to introduce myself," The man began chuckling. "I am Wallace Bradshaw. I am here on behalf of Mr. Rousseau, the coach of the French National quidditch team. I was told you were staying at the Leaky Cauldron and of all places I see you through a window of a broom shop!"
The man's voice was large and seemed to shake the very walls of Quality Quidditch Supplies.
"I don't quite understand is this a…" Harry began to say.
"Yes my boy!" Mr. Bradshaw boomed. "We want you to come to a tryout. But enough of it for now! Please, allow me to take you to lunch and we can discuss the details while we indulge."
"Umm sure, I mean… Yeah, why not?" Harry choked out.
"Excellent! I'm very excited to see you fly. Everyone I've talked to in England claims that you are unmatched on a broom."
The café in muggle London was a small quiet place with few people to overhear the two men's conversation.
"I'm sure you understand why I brought you here into muggle London Harry." Mr. Bradshaw stated.
"Well the soup is delicious do you need another reason." Harry joked.
Letting out a laugh to mock St. Nicholas Mr. Bradshaw began, "You're quick Harry. I'd like to see if you're as quick on the pitch as you are with the jokes."
"So what is going to happen?" Harry asked.
"Glad you asked," Mr. Bradshaw began. "Basically I've been asking around to find out where the talent is here in England. I myself and some other scouts will be holding and tryout later this week for the select individuals and we can decide however many we feel have a fighting chance at making it in the tryout that we will hold in Paris for select players all around the world."
"Where do I sign up?" Harry teased.
"For now you don't," Mr. Bradshaw began with an all business tone. "But if you do as well as I am hoping maybe we can talk about a contract. We would probably have to sign you for a one season contract for your first season. You know what I mean. A trial run of sorts."
"So what day is the tryout Mr. Bradshaw?" Harry asked.
"Are we not past all the formalities yet Harry?" He began. "Wallace or Wally if you prefer would do just nicely. And to answer your question we need you at the pitch outside of London on Friday at four o'clock."
Harry responded with a sip of his coke.
"I'm going to be honest with you my boy from the tales I've heard of the 'Great Harry Potter' I didn't expect you to be shy, or modest." Wallace laughed. "In fact I expected you to be a little arrogant. It's a relief to find you to be such a polite gentleman."
"I'm not sure you would know, of course most people tend to think I was born and raised with a silver spoon in my mouth because of who I am, but my childhood was modest at best." Harry replied.
"Yes well, needless to say I've enjoyed our chat a lot more than the last person I had a meeting with," he started. "Cocky little git. But of course he's the son of some rich bloke, Malfoy was the name."
Harry began coughing violently over his drink at the mention of Malfoy. Mr. Bradshaw stopped talking and was looking at Harry as if to say 'what the hell is wrong with you?'
"You're right," Harry cleared his throat some more. "He is a git! I assume that means he will be at the tryout as well?" Harry asked seemingly unconcerned.
"Yes he will be," He raised a bushy eyebrow. "I'm under the assumption you and Mr. Malfoy know each other?"
"We went to school together. We weren't the best of friends."
"I see, back when I was in school I knew a bloke that was just the same. We were constantly holding each other at wand point!" He stated excitedly. "We were nearly expelled! Long story short, he misjudged his spell choice and accidently bewitched a statue to bend our professor over its knee and spank her!"
Harry couldn't hold in his laughter, he couldn't help but think of Professor McGonagall bent over by a suit of armor and getting smacked where the sun don't shine.
Both Harry and Wallace continued to laugh for a full minute before they had calmed down and wiped the tears from their eyes. Much to Harry's surprise Mr. Bradshaw produced muggle pounds when they had gone to pay their bill. They walked outside the café and into an alley across the street.
"I'll see you Friday then?" Mr. Bradshaw asked.
"You can count on it," Harry replied.
"Well, 'till then." He nodded his head and disapparated.
When Harry apparated outside the 'Leaky Cauldron' Diagon Alley was still as busy as it had been when he left. He moved through the crowd of the alley towards Quality Quidditch Supplies. He needed to prepare for what was about to be one of the biggest breaks of his life.
Authors note: Thanks for taking the time to read guys this is my first real try at this so I would like to know what you think. For now my updating will be sporadic but hopefully I have enough of where I want to go with this to make it make sense. I'm not exactly sure where everything will lead but I do have a general idea so whenever I can make everything fit together I will get it up as soon as I can. Anyone who would like to beta as well let me know.