Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. This time, he wasn't in disguise, and the patrons of the pub looked at him with wide-eyed wonder. The usual hum of conversation quieted as they stepped inside.
Back in this famous place, still very dark and shabby.
Harry spotted a few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry.
One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut.
The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"
"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.
"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this — can this be — ?"
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter . . . what an honor."
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry, and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.
"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."
Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."
"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."
"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."
"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!"
Harry shook hands again and again — Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.
As Harry continued to greet the well-wishers, a pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
Harry stiffened internally but maintained his timid and confused act.
He had to suppress his true emotion he felt knowing that a psychopath's soul was parasitically residing in front of him.
He managed to keep an innocent expression as he extended his hand.
"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked, keeping his voice steady.
"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.
But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.
"Must get on — lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."
Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.
Hagrid grinned at Harry.
"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'."
"he was pretty nervous, wasn't he?" Harry asked, his mind still reeling from the encounter.
"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. . . . They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?"
'scared my ass, I know he is internally scheming, for my…' harry stopped in his thoughts as it struck him, 'why the fuck would Voldemort not kill me now.'
'its practically the best time,' harry thinks as he runs his mind trying to reason why he is not dead.
Harry looks up at Hagrid leading him to the back of the pub to Diagon alleys entrance,
'it cant be because of Hagrid, he could easily fool him, since he wont immediately doubt quarrel as he is a Hogwarts professor,' harry then looks around, 'and I don't really see anyone among these drunk fools who would really be a match for him.'
'is he dumb, or he might be putting more emphasis on reviving into a healthy body than looking for revenge, cause again, it would be so easy for him to kill me.'
'I mean, I am literally no threat to him now, I have no magic knowledge, or at least that's what's is known, wait… does he think that I have been trained by Dumbledore,'
Harry shakes his head, 'no, even if I have been, I am just a child.'
Harry stops this train of thought and chalks it away for later, 'does magic really dumb people up.' Harry things to himself, after all he knows that its not all that sane to enter the place where he knows at least half dozen thinks are waiting to kill him, just this year.
While harry is still in his musings, harry and Hagrid reach the wall.
-
AN:
why do you thing Voldemort didn't just kill harry here?
is there some other times where he could have just offed harry and didn't?
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