Chasing the one who had been replaced

Summary:

Previously. . . Harry gets a letter from Ron and arrives to the burrow.

CHAPTER 6:

The sounds of cheers and jeers, excitement flowing through the air as a large group of people walked by. Harry wandered towards the familiar faces. Be it the ancestor or descendant he knew, they were familiar. Certain features made him recognize certain people. He could recognize the nearly identical faces of Lorraine Montaigne and Nikita Orlov, who he suspected were either their parents, grandparents, or even aunts and uncles.. His eyes narrowed quietly, turning back towards the group of redheads.

It was easy to distinguish him from the weasleys. Hermione's brown hair could be blended into their ginger hairs while the pitch black he inherited from father easily stood out. But he kept his head low, fidgeting with the yew wand in his pocket as he quietly listened to the conversations between Fred and George. 

They had parted ways with the Diggorys earlier, to which Harry was evidently glad for. Seeing Cedric after all this time made his stomach churn. Although the boy did not die the last time saw him— as Orpheus who did not allow Cedric to get a hold of the cup during the final trials. He didn't have anything against Cedric, rather he didn't want to associate with him after his first life. 

"Mate, d'you think I'll be able to meet Victor Krum?" Ron asked, slightly dazed at the thought of his idol. 

Harry couldn't help but snort. He'd be meeting Viktor Krum soon and would hate him afterwards. Jealousy was a strong thing and for Hermione, Ron was a green-eyed monster. It was both sweet and rather concerning. Ron was easily dissuaded by his jealousy then turned anger. It hurt Hermione's feelings on multiple occasions. 

"Yeah, sure…just don't get jealous when other ladies start ogling at him." Harry emphasized, glancing towards Hermione who was chatting with Ginny.

Ron rolled his eyes, "What makes you think that!?" He exclaimed, "He's a good looking bloke, so of course others are gonna take a peak." 

A small laugh left Harry as he turned towards Mr. Weasley struggling to set up the tent. He glanced back towards Ron with a small smile before beckoning for Hermione to help him set up the tents. The two who were raised in muggle households had taken charge of sorting everything, while Harry also told Fred and George to take the matches from their father before they ran out.

The experience wasn't so bad, but the two silently agreed that Mr. Weasley was a tad bit too eccentric when it came to muggle things. They glanced at each other, Hermione unsure whether to praise Mr. Weasley or to tell him off, Harry only shrugged and shook his head. The Weasley patriarch wasn't ready for the conversation regarding the reality of the muggle world. They'd let him live his little fantasy for a bit longer.

They let the Weasley children bicker among one another, while Harry and Hermione slipped to the side. The girl had a pinched expression as she glanced towards Mr. Weasley who was fawning over the fire they had started without magic. She turned towards Harry with a confused and frustrated look.

"I…I don't understand why he's so fascinated with this. We're just setting up a tent and it's a simple match. What's so fascinating about that?" Hermione asked with a chuffed tone. 

Harry only hummed, he'd indulge her and explain. "Most wixens are like this, especially purebloods." He explained, "They are astounded by the mere fact that muggles have survived without magic and not realizing that muggle kind have advanced much further than them. Mr. Weasley might not understand, but this…excitement towards such mundane things can be misinterpreted as him being surprised that others don't need magic to live."

Her expression turned sour at that. Hermione pursed her lips, looking away from Mr. Weasley who was shaking the box of matches. She understood Harry's words, feeling quite bitter for that. As a muggleborn, she was in her right mind to be in awe of magic when most of her life she was told it was simple fantasy. Yet— the magical world seemed so arrogant and dismissive when it regarded the achievements of muggle kind.

Harry— although could respect how much the non magical world has advanced, he was still resentful of muggles. The horrors he had to go through in his eighth life was not to be ignored. He couldn't simply ignore what the muggles had done to children of their kind. He was old, older than he once was and harbored knowledge of the cruel world around them. Hermione was an asset he wanted to keep by his side— perhaps make her minister of magic much earlier than in his first life or maybe he could train her to be a teacher of Hogwarts and replace McGonagall in the future. 

After all the tents were properly set up and the awe of the inside finally went by, Harry, Hermione, and Ron set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepan. Harry questioned why they couldn't just use the Aguamenti charm and play it off as them bringing their own water. Hermione seemed to be as troubled while Ron was diligently following his fathers orders and scurried on to retrieve themselves some water. 

They got to the numerous rows of green tents and Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Ireland truly was amazing— Seamus came bounding to them with the biggest grin they've seen. 

"Harry! Hermione! Ron!" Seamus yelled as Dean followed him with a reluctant smile. His mother was standing close to their shamrock covered tent, as the Irish wizard dragged his friend towards the infamous golden trio of Hogwarts. 

"The Ministry ain't too happy with the decorations?" Harry jokingly asked as Seamus laughed in triumph. It was like this before— even when he was still Orpheus Black. Ireland's pride in their quidditch players was the most eccentric he'd seen. 

They chatted with Seamus and Dean for a few minutes before continuing on with their task. But to Harry's dismay, Ron had dragged them both towards the Bulgarian tents where he began squealing like the fan he was. There were posters attached to the tents, displaying the same surly face of their country's seeker: Viktor Krum.

Harry could vividly remember Krum from when he was still Orpheus Black. He was unfortunately the boy's roommate at that time and had to endure the aggressive enthusiasm Krum had for quidditch. From his first and second life, he had trained hard in quidditch and when he started to play as Orpheus he befriended Krum out of pure accident. It wasn't his fault everyone mistook him for a prodigy. 

He was almost roped into Russia's quidditch team if not for his constant avoidance towards the sports department of the Russian Ministry. He was far too busy planning the defeat of Voldemort using the other Harry Potter of that world. 

"Don't fawn too much. I heard most celebrities don't like it when their fans do that." Harry advised. It was his personal experience after all— but his friends didn't need to know that. 

Ron slumped as Hermione patted his back with a blank smile. "It's alright Ronald. He looks rather grumpy anyway." 

"Grumpy? Who bloody cares what he looks like! He's the youngest member of the Bulgarian quidditch team— only a bit older than the twins." Ron exclaimed, looking rather offended as Hermione rolled her eyes and dragged him away from the tents. Harry hummed , thinking of how ironic it was for Ron to have a sort of crush for Krum while also being extremely upset the seeker was interested in Hermione.

As they passed by the tents, Harry frowned as he failed to see a familiar head of long and wavy blonde hair. Although he did see old classmates from his past lives, specifically that of Orpheus. The students of Durmstrang weren't that hard to distinguish from the rest, seeing that they were either speaking in one of the languages Durmstrang students spoke or wore a jumper with the Durmstrang crest. 

He thought of the possible exchange trip he could take for Durmstrang or even Ilvermorny would be good for him. Hogwarts was severely lacking if he wanted to compare the schools. Dark magic was forbidden, unfortunately since many students had dark cores. Harry's core was complicated and confusing. He often said it was gray, as it often shifted from dark and sometimes to light. He knew his supposed gray was darker than thought. He suspected that Ginny was also dark, the Weasley twins most certainly but hid it from their parents.

Once they returned, Harry and Hermione were dragged into a long commentary of Mr. Weasley's ministry colleagues. Hermione was genuinely interested while Harry tried his best to pretend he was. He knew enough of the current ministry to understand more than Percy. 

He sighed as he excused himself and began to work on their lunch. Hermione also moved away from the conversation to help Harry. They had already known how to cook— Harry knew more than the others of course— and started to berate the Weasley children when they tried to meddle with the cooking. Fred was victim to a rather nasty slap from Harry when he tried to take one of the sausages Harry had finished cooking. 

The three eldest sons of the Weasley family had arrived just in time for them to pass on the lunch. Percy had immediately gone and snatched George's bacon without much remorse. Said twin ended up yelling at their older brother who— regardless of his formal exterior— feigned innocence and continued to bite at the bacon. 

"Ah! If it isn't the man of the hour! Ludo Bagman!" 

Harry instantly started scooting away from Bagman's sight, feigning his desire to sit beside Charlie who was completely out of Bagman's vision. He smiled at the second son of the weasleys, who was quite curious as to why Harry had decided to move closer to him. 

"How is it— in Romania I mean." He asked, eager to listen. Charlie's eyes gleamed in delight as he set down his plate on his lap and began to speak about dragons. He spoke of the dragons that had recently hatched and his colleagues who had cried when the eggs hatched. He referred to a Chinese fireball as his 'baby'. Harry knew the dragon well— Orpheus had nearly been charred by it after all.

"Yes and— the Hungarian horntail just laid its eggs; but we don't know when they'll hatch. About five were laid." Charlie spoke as he squinted his eyes towards the ceiling. 

He didn't notice how Harry had gone stiff, sweating profusely as he realized which Dragon he was talking about. He dearly wished that if ever he were to be involved in the tournament, it wouldn't be a nesting mother dragon he'd have to go against. His broom could handle only so much. 

"Ah— yes," Mr. Weasley was grinning from what Harry could see. "This is my third son Percy, who just started working at the Ministry. Those are the twins; Fred and George, then there's Bill, Charlie and my only daughter Ginny." When Mr. Weasley mentioned Charlie, he gestured towards them. "This is Ron and his friends. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Bagman's eyes widened as his smile turned brighter the moment Harry was mentioned. The boy resisted the urge to roll his eyes but waved politely to the man who waved back very enthusiastically. 

A fanatic. Disgusting, Harry thought as he took Charlie's plate and set it aside. He had trouble getting rid of his habits from the dursleys. They were worse since his body could remember the actions he took, unlike when he awoke in different bodies where his habits were just as different. 

He didn't mind them as they chatted amicably, only reacting when Hermione had touched his forearm with a concerned look. She only received a smile in return, a small pat to the head which caused her to slap Harry with a deep irritation in her eyes. The green-eyed boy pouted, nursing his red hand as the girl with bushy hair huffed and moved back towards her tent. 

"Harry? Are you alright?"

"Never better."

"A hundred thousand seats… amazing." Hermione awed as they went up the flight of stairs. She was wearing her jumper under a thick brown coat with fur on it and had her hand tugged by Harry who was chuckling at her amazement. The boy didn't want her tripping down the stairs, thus chose to hold her hand with his own that was covered by a leather glove.

He had changed out of his clothes to a somewhat more formal yet modest outfit. He had decided upon a simple black turtleneck shirt that matched with his navy coat. He didn't wear any merchandise that indicated what team he was supporting, best not to look too biased when speaking to those outside Britain. He made sure to flatten his hair the best that he could and hid his scar— which he had taken very good measures to actually get rid of it but unfortunately the magical residue and contents of it could not be removed just yet.

At last they finally arrived at the small box where their seats were located. Not many people were present yet but he did immediately spot a familiar house elf trying her best not to sob. He waved the group off and excused himself, moving towards the corner of the room and silently casted a notice for me not to spell. His eyes narrowed dangerously to the seat next to the house elf.

"Dobby." 

There was a loud pop emerging through the box which was thankfully muffled by the spell Harry casted. The house elf now stood before him with a blinding smile that promised loyalty and admiration.

"Harry Potter sir has finally called upon Dobby! I am honored." The elf declared, bowing till his nose grazed the floor. Harry hummed softly, gesturing towards Winky and summoning a small vile.

"This is a calming drought. Hand it over to that elf. Tell her to keep her master safe." He ordered, before dismissing Dobby. The house elf was confused before glancing towards Winky who was sniffling. Dobby's thoughts began to grow as he silently praised Harry for his kindness and bounded towards the elf.

"Dobby?" Winky murmured seeing the other elf. She felt her friend move slightly, as if moving to pull her away.

"Hello Winky! Dobby's master is telling Dobby to give you a calming drought." He shoved the vile in her face with a big and toothy grin. "Master's be telling you to keep your master safe." 

The person beside Winky stiffened but before the female house elf could ask, Dobby had already popped away. 

Harry was leisurely sitting at the very edge of the seats right beside Hermione. He hummed softly, glancing towards the still shaken house elf who was slowly drowning her calming drought. Her master was someone important to his plans— perhaps it was also because of sentiment that he wanted to keep the man alive. Was he being cruel? He didn't really care as he waited for more people to enter the box.

He was silent the entire time, listening to various conversations being said in different languages that many could not understand. Unfortunately for them, Harry was quite fluent in German, French, Romanian, Bulgarian, Greek, and Russian. He could easily translate most of the conversations in his head.

He had heard from two Romanian ministry officials of how many injuries the Bulgarian team had by the end. He heard France's head of the auror department gossiping on how the senior undersecretary of their ministry was having an affair with her husband's older sister. Then there was Russia. 

" Is she going to arrive? " One said in russian, looking around for someone.

" Yes she is. She's bringing her son with her " The other replied with an excited look. Whoever they were talking about was either a famous celebrity or an extremely influential person among the Russian Ministry.

" I never thought Markova would have the time. She's always so busy, but I guess because her son is a fan of quidditch… " 

Harry went stiff in an instant. He knew that name far too well. She was coming to the top box, and the moment he felt her magic, he restrained himself from jumping to his feet and burying himself into her arms. His head snapped towards the entrance where the Malfoy's had just passed and a minute later, a woman entered with a boy behind her.

Her wavy ash brown hair cascaded down her back. She wore a deep blue coat that matched her piercing blue eyes. Her expression was blank for a moment before she gave everyone a predatory grin. She easily mingled with the Russian diplomats and began to converse with them. Nadia Markova, the current head of the Markov Family.

But the boy was unfamiliar to Harry yet as he looked at him, he couldn't help how his heart ached. He knew who that boy was, not his name but who he could be. He had the same ash brown hair as Nadia and the very same eyes Harry had dreaded to see on another person— a dull violet. He was tall, a fascinated expression plastered across his face as he followed his mother with a proud grin.

Nadia's son. He didn't look anything like Orpheus— aside from his eyes. They were the same ones their grandfather had. Would this boy be considered his half brother? 

A moment later, Cornelius Fudge had approached them. Percy had bowed so low that his glasses nearly slipped from his face. Harry had reacted immediately to save the boy from embarrassment and pulled him back up. Percy blinked in surprise, turning to Harry with a subdued look of gratitude. Fudge on the other hand had swept him away, as the boy gave Percy a pleading look. Seeing how Harry seemed to be suffering, the jealousy in Percy subsided as he snickered at the agitated look the boy wore. 

Fudge had gone and embarrassed himself to the Bulgaria minister who looked thoroughly entertained but he kept a close eye on Harry and gave the boy a look that questioned him. Harry only offered a tired smile that showed how irritating the British minister was.

"Goodness, I am not good with languages. Where is Barty Crouch when you need him? Well his elf has already prepared his seat… good for him, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to snatch all the seats— oh Lucius!" 

Harry gave the Bulgarian minister an apologetic look which the man thankfully noticed. He gave the boy a small nod, before Harry's attention was brought to the family of blondes. He blamed inbreeding for Draco's atrociously perfectly blonde hair.

"Minister, how are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa and our son, Draco." Lucius introduced them. Narcissa gave a polite nod while Draco followed his mother's actions. Although the boy did turn towards Harry who nonchalantly waved at him. This seemed to surprise the Malfoy scion who awkwardly waved back.

Fudge seemed to be relieved, bringing Lucius attention to Arthur Weasley— a great mistake if Harry had to say anything. It was a perfect opportunity for him though, as he slipped closer to the Bulgarian minister and stood beside him.

"Zdraveĭ ministŭr Oblansk." Hello Minister Oblansk, Harry greeted, surprising the Oblansk. The man stared at him for a few seconds before laughing quietly. 

"You can speak our language!" It was less of a question and more of a statement for the minister. 

"Indeed, I do. I apologize for the words Minister Fudge has said…please know that, although he is minister, he does not speak for Britain." 

"Hm…you do not need to speak further. I understand what you mean." 

Harry nodded, understanding the Minister didn't really need any further statements for him to guess what he meant. Fudge was unfit to be a minister. He met eyes with Draco— who was staring at him in shock. Narcissa also looked skeptical as he continued to speak in fluent Bulgarian, having an ever pleasant conversation with Bulgaria's minister.

Harry gave them a Cheshire grin, tilting his head. " I cannot stand him—Ah! Please do not tell anyone what I said. " He said, keeping eye contact with Draco. The pale boy gulped, before Harry turned away from him and gave Oblansk a pleading look.

The man took pity and tried to catch Fudge's attentioned without speaking. The British minister quickly turned towards him and saw that Harry was standing beside the minister. Oblansk called for his secretary, who thankfully could speak English. Oblansk could also speak English but who was he to punish himself with a conversation with Cornelius fudge.

"Excuse me Mr. Fudge." The secretary cleared his throat, "Minister Oblansk is excusing himself but has also stated he would be borrowing Mr. Potter."

Fudge, Malfoy, and Weasley went stiff as they saw the glint of interest in Oblansk's eyes. Harry was smiling pleasantly at them, before the Bulgarian minister led him away from the British Ministry employees. Fudge was staring at their backs with his jaw dropped as Lucius Malfoy turned to his wife with wide eyes. Narcissa only nodded tersely before whisking her husband and son away to discuss Harry Potter's surprising ability to speak Bulgarian.

Arthur Weasley fidgeted, concerned and confused as he watched Harry speak to Oblansk's secretary.

"How entertaining. You are a very sly child." Oblansk commented as he grinned wolfishly at Harry. The boy only nodded, smiling with a respectful look. Better to keep himself humble yet cunning. Politician's liked those kinds of people— right?

"Ah, you flatter me minister. I am simply being honest— Is that not a good thing?" Harry hummed, tilting his head innocently as he was led towards another group of foreigners.

He felt his heart pound in his chest. Matushka, he thought as Nadia Markova grinned proudly at one of her co workers. He gulped as Oblansk started to speak to the Russian Minister of Magic before the attention was brought to him. 

Minister Levitsky was good friends with Nadia. 

At the moment, all he needed to do was speak to the Russian Minister of Magic. Oblansk gladly introduced Harry to them, to which Harry began conversing with Levitsky with fluent Russian that impressed those who could understand the language. He easily got along with the Ministry employees until he came face to face with Nadia Markova, one of the Russian Ministry's benefactors. 

She gave him a pleasant smile and offered her hand to him, "Zdravstvuyte, Mr. Potter." Hello, Mr. Potter. She greeted him as her gloved hand shook him. "I am Nadia Markova. It is a pleasure to meet you."

I missed you, he thought as he gave the woman a melancholic smile. "Priyatno poznakomitʹsya, ledi Markova." Nice to meet you, Lady Markova. He greeted back as she grinned brightly at him. His heart ached at the smile, knowing she didn't remember how he was her son. Orpheus Black didn't exist in this world, instead… 

"This is my son Nikolai. I think he is around your age— fourteen, fifteen?" Nadia introduced her son who smiled at Harry. 

Nikolai , it sounded pretty common. Orpheus was quite unique and had some sort of tie with the Black Family. He resisted the urge to simply scrutinize and judge the boy before him, plastering a smile across his face as he shook Nikolai's hand. He looked like Nadia— unlike Orpheus who had completely taken after his father. He was envious of that, pursing his lips as the boy grinned at him.

"I just turned fourteen actually. I will start my fourth year in September." 

"Really? Then you really are the same age as Kolya. His birthday just passed in April." Nadia chuckled as Nikolai turned a soft shade of red, embarrassed that his mother was cooing over him. 

Harry went stiff. Orpheus had been born on the 13th of April, how cruel it was for Nikolai Markov to be born on the same month. 

Nikolai cleared his throat, "M-Mama, that's enough." He coughed, giving his mother a strained grin. He turned back to Harry, "Nikolai Markov at your service." 

"Markov?"

"Ah… My father took my Mother's name when they got married so I am stuck with the surname Markov. Seems unusual, doesn't it?" Nikolai sheepishly scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact with Harry who was staring at him.

"Not at all. I for one think it suits you." Harry immediately assured with a blinding smile. "Hadrian Potter—Harry for short."

Nikolai instantly softened, smiling as he and Harry began a conversation of their own. They switched from Russian to English from time to time, simply trying to get to know each other. Harry was quite… calmed as he spoke to Nikolai more. He wasn't what he had expected from the boy. It made him bitter and relieved. How different Nikolai was.

Nikolai Markov — from the few minutes Harry had been speaking to him had concluded that the boy was bright and enthusiastic. He loved quidditch; he played as a chaser. Nikolai's favorite subject was transfiguration and ancient runes. He was very passionate about the arts; his hobby was painting things that caught his interest. He was a calm and somewhat introverted boy. It was deeply opposed to the boy's nonexistent half-brother.

Orpheus was cruel, manipulative, and seized opportunities like hawkes preyed on mice. Orpheus was the type of person who excelled in quidditch but didn't think much about it. His favorite subjects had been dark arts and history of magic. His hobbies were researching the properties and contents of magic itself. He was confident, prideful, and greedy. Nikolai was almost the stark contrast of it. 

He felt bitter about that. Nadia had once given birth to a boy who was willing to manipulate the world for her, and now the boy she currently adored was akin to a puppy or a cat. Did she prefer Nikolai over Orpheus? He couldn't ask her that or he would be declared a madman for harassing the Russians Ministry's benefactor.

"Is it true that the staircases in Hogwarts move?" Nikolai suddenly asked, tilting his head. His fluffy brown hair swayed as his head moved. Harry predicted that it would have felt nice to run his fingers through it.

"Yes. The mechanics of the stairs were crafted by Rowena Ravenclaw. Merlin knows what went into the woman's head when she thought that those moving stairs would be useful."

"Perhaps in case of an attack on the school? Maybe the staircases would turn into slides if an intruder entered to harm the students." 

"Hm… I didn't think of that. Although it's still dangerous without the enemies threatening the school. Someone had nearly fallen from the stairs." 

" bozhe moy, that is a health hazard. Do they not stop?"

Harry chuckled, cringing as he remembered the time Seamus had missed the stairs and had arrived to charms class late because of it. He shook his head, causing Nikolai to sniff indignantly. 

"Durmstrang only has a single spiral staircase that leads to all of the five floors. Although it was a bit frightening for me back in my first year. Up and down looked unending." Nikolai shuddered as he remembered.

Ah yes… that damn staircase of nightmares, he thought, eye twitching at the memory of his first year in Durmstrang. The staircase had been dark when going down and when going up you could see the faint light of the sun through the windows. But it only made the students feel like prisoners who wanted to escape the darkness to the light. Durmstrang had been considerably ruthless with its students— that never changed in any of his lifetimes.

"I can only imagine." Harry chuckled, "Say, as a student of Durmstrang, are you acquainted with Viktor Krum?"

Nikolai blinked in surprise, before his eyes gleamed in absolute delight. "Viktor! He'll be in his seventh year this September. He's absolutely blestyashchiy — I mean brilliant." His face turned red for a moment before he began to laugh.

Such a laugh that could have belonged to an angel. If Orpheus had laughed like that it would send a chill up people's spines.

"I was a player on his team when he wasn't scouted by the Bulgarian quidditch team. His feints are amazing, though it has caused us multiple heart attacks from his risk." Nikolai pressed a hand against his hip as he contemplated more on Viktor Krum. "One student tried to imitate him and landed himself in the infirmary. I doubt anyone else but Krum could perform the Wronski feint."

I did… Harry thought but didn't dare to speak it out.

"Really? I'm a seeker myself." 

"Ah! I remember— you're the youngest seeker of the century. A prodigy they've said." Nikolai praised, admiration in his eyes. He started to question Harry on who had taught him how to fly and had been surprised to find out that his first time was during their first flying lesson. 

"Who do you think will win?" 

"Well, I may be biased, but I'm rooting for Bulgaria." Nikolai admitted with a grin.

Harry nodded, "I see. I also think Bulgaria will display wonderful skills. Regardless, whoever wins or loses will still be able to show their pride in their country during the game. I'm pretty sure Krum will still stand out if he loses." 

Nikolai quietly agreed, before blinking as he turned towards his mother. "Kolya! Nam nuzhno zanyatʹ svoi mesta." Kolya! We need to take our places.

"Podozhdi minutku, mama!" Wait a minute, mama! Nikolai yelled back before turning to Harry. "Uh— Er— See you later?" He awkwardly asked with a slightly red face.

Harry smiled, "I'll come to you after the match. Maybe even introduce me to Krum." He joked as Nikolai brightened at his words. The son of Markov nodded vigorously before running back to his mother, his dark gray coat swaying with him.

Harry's smile fell. How nice… If you had been born in my sixth lifetime, I might have spoiled you rotten, he thought as he moved back to his seat. Nevertheless, perhaps I can do that in this life. 

Once seated, he received many odd looks from the Weasleys. Percy had practically tried to push Ron off his seat to speak to him, to which the youngest son stuck his tongue at his older brother before quickly doing just what Percy wanted. 

"Mate, what was all that? Couldn't hear anything you guys said." Ron said, curious as he leaned over Hermione. The girl snarled before pushing him away.

"Nothing much," Harry shrugged. "Minister Oblansk was curious about me and decided to introduce me to the other ministers."

"What about that boy? I think he's Russian." Hermione said.

"Nikolai Markov. His mother is a benefactor of Russia's ministry." He calmly explained but refused to disclose too much. "Student of Durmstrang, the same year as us. He's brilliant, seems like a sperb chaser from what he's said. He's good at ancient runes." He specifically turned to Hermione who immediately brightened.

"Blimey Harry… I can't imagine how hard it is for you. So many people want to meet you— even from different countries." Ron exclaimed with exasperation. 

Harry hummed softly, paying attention to the game that was already starting. His plans had worked. He was able to meet his sixth life's mother and someone who could have been his half brother. But it felt dangerous— to be interested in the life of Nikolai Markov, the boy who essentially replaced him as Nadia's son. 

Let's see whether you'll survive longer than my past self… Nikolai Markov.

Notes:

Excuse any grammatical errors in regards to the non-english languages. I use google translate because I don't know any platforms that provide good translation. I try to avoid actually using Google translate and italicize different languages, but I feel that some phrases would be better in the actual language to make it feel... Real?

Anyways! Harry is capable of speaking multipke languages due to his different lives! As you know, Orpheus Black, his sixth life, is the son of an existing variant within that world. Orpheus and Nikolai are not variants. Nikolai just doesn't exist in the world of Harry's sixth life, (Harry or Orpheus is to be blamed for that.)

Technically, Nikolai and Orpheus would be half-brothers if Nikolai had been born in Orpheus' timeline.

P.S. the author is a grishaverse fan! My writing Style was inspired bt the six of Crows duology— where POV's are written in third person rather than first. The story will mostly be Harry's POV but of course, there will be other characters added to the POVs.

Again! In regards to the language, please correct me if I'm wrong and educate me if anything seems of or might be offensive.