The translation of the sentences will be at the bottom of the chapter and I've used Google Translator for them, so I apologize for the lack of proper grammar. Also, for those who do not know Greece is in GMT +2.00.
Chapter Six
Samhain: Part One
.
.
.
"I will miss you, Harry, when you leave. Promise me you will write."
"I promise Vi. You won't get rid of me that easily."
"Every week?"
"Every week."
.
.
.
The week before the Samhain celebrations was not one that Harry would recall with any particular fondness. Actually, he would rather not remember it at all. While Ron did make sure to stay away from any mentioning of the Old Ways, he seemed to have taken the news quite well. It was Hermione who made the past week so bad. She would send him those creepy judge-y looks and not even pretend to accept anything. It was so annoying. Couldn't she understand that behavior like this was the real reason Malfoy was insulting her all the time and many purebloods and half-bloods looked down on her?
Anyway, Saturday finally came (it had felt like forever) and Harry was going to see his friends. He left as right after breakfast doing his best to avoid Hermione. The previous night she had done her best to convince him against going without angering Her. If he hadn't been the poor soul subjected to her lecturing, Harry would have been impressed with her. However, as it was, he was only pissed. Therefore, he had been relieved when he had said goodbye to his roommates and woken up at 6 A.M. By 7.30 he was at the International Portkey Agency.
The IPA was one of the oldest organizations in the wizarding world. It dated back from the early seventeenth century (about three years after the first international portkey was made) and while the job was dull, the higher-ups had a lot of pull everywhere. Anyway, as an old and renowned institution, IPA had one of the most beautiful buildings in Diagon Alley, second only to Gringots. It was a three store old house, with white marble and golden ornaments outside. Inside it was rather cozy but still somewhat intimidating. According to the signs, the first floor had only the reception and a cafeteria. The second was where the portkeys 'landed' and left from and on the third were the offices.
Harry went to the counter over which the words "South Europe" were hovering. A grumpy witch was standing behind it, looking like she wanted to be anywhere but there. Her hair was half-grey and was pulled up in a thigh bun; the lines on her face were not from laughing, that was obvious. Her robes, in the standard (for the agency) brownish red color, did not have a single crinkle and she stood so straight that Harry felt his back hurt.
"How can I help you?" she asked unenthusiastically.
"I have a portkey for Thessaloniki at 7.45…"
"Name?" the lady interrupted him with the same flat voice.
"Potter, Harry Potter," at this her eyes widened a little and she looked a somewhat intrigued. For his relief, she did not comment or started asking questions or anything; the older woman only gave him a piece of parchment with the number 27 on it and bid him a good day. Harry did feel her eyes on his back but that was normal. At least she hadn't made a scene or something to alert everyone that the Harry Potter was in IPA. She would, doubtlessly, tell all her friends and enemies, and acquaintances, and probably random strangers. Well, he was exaggerating, probably.
Anyway, the woman did deserve his gratitude for the room was already half full. Wizards and witches of all ages and nationalities were walking around. Harry was sure that there were even some magical creatures (that man was way too pale and he thought he saw a sharp fang). Harry had to stifle a laugh at the thought of Kalina's face were he to mentioned that. Kalina was his first love, or at least, the first girl he had ever fancied (and kissed). She was only a week older than he was. Her chocolate eyes and brown curls, completed with pale complexion and slender frame made her, according to him, one of the most beautiful girls. Her laugh sounded like the song of the bells and he was still a little in love with her. She was quite shy, though and they had gotten to know each other only during the second term when Victor had introduced them. It had turned out that the older Bulgarian was her first cousin and had tried to play mach-maker, not that he failed or anything. What they had had, however, while nice and all was nothing serious, both had agreed about that. They were young, too young if one were to ask some more conservative people and live too far away for anything to happen. Pity that, Kalina Petrova was nothing if not a catch, despite her shy nature.
Deep in thoughts, the Potter heir was blind to his surroundings. Had he been aware, the classic beauty of the inner décor would have struck the teen. Every single detail was polished to a perfection, from the golden hardware of the doorknobs (and wasn't that a waste of money) to the long heavy curtains (Merlin knows from which expensive material) that did not have a speckle of dust. Everything was arranged with taste and there was not a single thing not on its place. The floor was from white marble, charmed not to be slippery. The handrail was wooden with golden and silver ornaments all over it. Despite not being too obvious about it, the entire building was made with opulence in mind.
The second floor was decorated in soft green colors with leafs as a main part. Instead of gold there was mostly silver. All in all, it was as grand as the partner. Harry, even after the last year in Durmstrang with all the purebloods and wealth, still cringed at such unnecessary display of money. It was not surprising that many of the people around him looked overwhelmed, he felt small too.
The parchment turned out to be the portkey's number to which he was assigned. Harry was a little surprised that he was the only one using it - there were so many people. Anyway, it wasn't that important, so he shrugged the thought of. There were more pressing matters to be conserved with, namely the 'wonderful' sensation of traveling via international portkey. Perhaps it would have been better to use the International Floo Lines but he got dizzy after a couple of seconds, let alone a travel from Britain to Greece. Besides, it would be a terrible embarrassment to stumble and trip on his robes in front of Konstantinos Megara. He had met the eighteen-year-old brother of Calypso only briefly but one would do well not to make a full of themselves in front of an heir of an old pureblood and (most important) influential family.
Harry did regret his decision to use the IPA's portkeys soon enough, though, about ten seconds after the aureate quill activated, to be precise. Everything around him was a spinning faster and faster and the colors had all merged. His only consolation was that when he falls on his knees and pucks his breakfast (and probably dinner and lunch from the day before), there would be no witnesses.
The Potter heir did not in fact start vomiting all over the chamber where the portkey took him but he did lost balance and fell on the hard marble floor. After his head stop spinning (and it took more than a couple of minutes) he finally left the small room and headed downstairs. The two buildings of IPA were almost identical but with different decoration. While the British obviously preferred forest motives and green, gold and the darker shades of red, the Greeks seemed to favor beaches and seas as main theme and cyan and sandy colors. It was no less grand and elaborate but still incredibly beautiful.
Konstantinos was waiting for him in the cafeteria looking regally bored. Like his sister, he had dark eyes and hair but his skin was much paler than hers was. This was due to more time spent inside because of his studies and because of his mother's blood. Ingrid Megara was originally from Norway. The story of Ingrid and Christos' love was very well known. It was a true fairytale. The two had met in Durmstrang and had fallen in love at first sight. Despite living in two countries, separated by an entire continent, their love had flowered and the two had wed a week after Ingrid's nineteenth birthday. According to the rumors they had had the perfect marriage until Lady Megara had fallen ill and only a fortnight later she had passed away. Christos Megara had never looked at another woman again, not even once for the past seven years. An entire generation of young witches had gone to sleep with tears in their eyes.
Harry, on the other hand, had little interest in the private matters of other families but it was impossible not to learn all the gossip and scandals of the purebloods when one attends a school with them. Even though the tragic story of Ingrid and Christos was the first thing to come to the minds of many when they were about to meet any member of the Megara family, it was not the same with Harry. He was more preoccupied with making the best possible impression, rather than over thinking old gossip.
"Heir Megara," he greeted with a small nod when he was close enough the older boy. "How do you do?"
"Kληρονόμος Potter," he answered with a nod in Greek, as was accepted. He offered his hand and Harry took it with a smile for a few seconds. "Tι κάνεισ?" after the formal part was over, the older teen led Harry out of the building. "My sister is very excited about your arrival," he said with a barely noticeable accent. "She considers you a very close friend," Harry wasn't sure where this conversation was going and didn't really want to.
"I do to," he said honestly, successfully keeping his voice steady. The two were outside the building and the younger boy was barely able to stop himself from gaping like a fool. This was not an easy thing to do, since the Thessaloniki's equivalent of Diagon Alley was nothing like it. The first thing Harry noticed was the faint smell of sea and the screams of the seagulls. The robes worn by the wizards and witches had more color than the British ones and the cut was somewhat different, though the young wizard could not say exactly where they differed. It was also warmer, if only by a bit, but still.
"I hope there won't be anything else between you," the slight Greek accent was more visible in Konstantinos' voice and even a deaf man could hear the threat it. There was nothing Harry could say that wouldn't get him in trouble, so he settled for nodding and trying not to look scared, the Megara heir could be quite intimidating when he wanted to be.
"Good, now after we got over this, shall we apparate to the manor?" asked the Greek and offered his hand. The younger had no choice but to take it. This was his first experience with this particular method of magical transportation and Harry could safely say he would live happily without ever going through such experience again. It felt as if he was sucked through a very tight and small rubber tube. Perhaps international portkeys were not so bad, after all. He felt ill after the few seconds it took them to apparate.
"First time?" asked Konstantinos amused. All Harry could do was nod weekly and try not vomit all over the place (for second time this past hour). "I can give you a few minutes to compose yourself, Heir Potter, but it's almost ten and my sister is expecting as. I believe there will be a light breakfast prepared for us"
Harry took as little time as possible and while his breath was still coming in short gasps he straightened his shoulders and looked around. He stood in a region smattered with fruit-bearing vines. The sea was not too far away, as he could hear the sound of the waves. There was no sign that the land was inhabited but that was not surprising. The Megara family was renowned for the many Seers they had produced (at least one every generation or so) and for the very strong wards that sometimes could conceal an entire mansion.
"Come here," the Greek motioned for Harry to come closer and then pointed at some random spot. "Το αρχοντικό είναι εκεί," at first nothing changed but then the Brit saw it. They were in the middle of a large park, which had a quaint atmosphere. There were several sculptures, many trees (the olive ones were predominant) and a gazebo nearby. The statues were in a typical Greek fashion and everything looked amazing.
After a few minutes' walk he saw the house as well. It had the same quaint feeling like the park. Grand was the best word to describe it. The manor was not high, only two stores but it spread away for what seemed to Harry miles.
Calypso was waiting for them at the entrance. Her hair was styled in her usual elaborate braid and she wore sun-colored robes with orange ornaments. Her pose was composed and she stood patiently waiting for them to come. She would not leave her position (in front of the gates), nor would she show any sign that she had seen them.
"Brother, Heir Potter," Calypso greeted them with a deep curtsy when the two were in front of her. On her face was the mask of the perfect pureblood daughter.
"My dear sister," Konstantinos smiled warmly and kissed her forehead, neglecting the proper protocol like so many did these days. Harry had no choice, however, but to follow the rules and bowed just as deeply as Calypso.
"Lady Megara," he offered to take her hand and kiss it and the girl let him.
"Now, after the formalities are over, why don't we just enjoy the breakfast without the boring etiquette, hm?" the girl said with a big smile. "Oh, and Harry, leave your bag here, the elves will take care of it," she said absentmindedly waving her hand at the floor. Harry had to stifle a fond smile. Purebloods, how would they survive without the House-elves? But then again, he himself was quite fond of the small creatures that did all the work. Hermione would disapprove, but he won't think of her right now, that would only ruin his mood. He hurried after the siblings, trying to catch up.
"Is anyone else here, yet?" he asked curiously.
"Not until tomorrow evening," the girl replayed. "You know how is in Durmstrang. And what happens if you don't have homework."
He did indeed. The professors in the foreign schools were much stricter and were not above corporeal punishment.
"And we do need to catch up," he added with a smile, "about certain things," Harry continued with a vague gesture.
"But of course," Calypso laughted. "Can't forget about that."
"About what?" the oldest of the small group asked, not liking being left out of the loop.
"Nothing that concerns you Kostas," his sister waved him of. "School things, you know," she said which brought another wave of laughter for the two thirteen-year-olds.
.
.
.
"How is life in Hogwarts, young Potter?" Christos Megara asked Harry. It was dinnertime and the four were in a relatively large dining room and already at the second course. The food was delicious, about as much as the one in Hogwarts.
Lord Megara was a large man but no one would make the mistake of thinking him in terms of fat. He shared the same dark hair and eyes with his children and the brownish skin color Calypso had. He smiled a lot but with such sad and melancholic smile that Harry couldn't help but remember the story about him and his Ingrid. The man was also very friendly and kind. His eyes sometimes looked a little unfocused but as a part-Seer that was a given. One day, Calypso had explained to Harry that her father couldn't predict anything really but almost all the time had 'feelings' and would See flickers of things that are not there. Regardless, his gift was limited and the best he had done was to predicting the future was saying how someone would look like in a few years but even that was not certain.
"The same as Durmstrang actually. There are differences but more or less everything is the same," Harry answered after he had swollen the bite he had been eating.
"Even with all ακάθαρτος there?" the man exclaimed. Harry kept his face still, knowing very well for whom was the Greek word about, especially after the worried look Calypso threw at him.
"One of my best friends is of Muggle blood, sir," he said calmly and took another bite of the delicious pork meal. "So was my mother," Harry continued and refusing to betray his emotions.
"And there is nothing wrong about that," the lord sounded honest. "But many of them do not understand our culture. Does your friend follow the Old Ways or even know about them? And the late Lady Potter?" at least he had a good argument.
"My mother had done so ever since she had been introduced to our world," and she had. Georg had managed to persuade Harry to write to some of his parents' old friends. It had taken some time to find any but the two had used s book about genealogy and had managed to track down some purebloods that had went to school with James and Lily Potter. According to Emmeline Vance (who had attended Hogwarts at the same time and was in the same House with Lily), his mother had been practicing from before she had received her letter. "Hermione is…" well, nothing that would put her in a good light with Lord Megara. "Not a practicioner but that is because her tight connection to the Church," a lie, "not because she thinks badly of the Old Ways," another lie. By the look of Christos' eyes he knew that to. "There are many families that are Christians, not just muggleborns but some half-bloods, as well, with a pureblood parent," Harry tried to spin the conversation away from the witch. Hermione was not something he wanted to discuss with a bunch of purebloods or with anyone really, right now.
"A Muggle influence, no doubt," the elder said. He took a sip from his elf-made wine and look at Harry with calculating eyes. Perhaps he should have not changed the topic, after all, or even started it. "What is your opinion of Muggle?" that was one of the most difficult and most important questions a pureblood could ask someone. It was better not to lie but in this case, Harry had no intention to. The truth would be enough.
"They are different than us," he said and prevented the urge to lick his lips, which suddenly had become very dry. Instead, he took a sip from his goblet. It was filled with some sort of fruit juice but the boy had no idea which one. "They don't have magic, so they can't understand it. Can't understand Her, either. Half of the things we see, they can't," like Dementors, Bogarts, and ghosts and so on. "I can't say I particularly like them, but I don't hate them, either. I would be content if I have no contact with the Muggle world at all," here, that should be good enough. He took another sip from the goblet. Perhaps it was a mixture. The smell was too rich to be from one fruit alone. And the flavor too.
"Well said," his host complimented him. From the corner of his eye he saw Calypso's shoulders relaxing a little and her brother looked like he had went to a show expecting it to be much more than it had been. Harry wasn't sure he liked the tall Greek. The older teen couth his eye and raised his goblet a little mockingly. No, Harry definitely did not like Heir Konstantinos Megara.
.
.
.
Harry Potter woke up in a large warm and very, very comfortable bed. It took him awhile to remember where he was but the unmistakable feeling of magic in the air quickly reminded him. He liked it, the sensation of raw magic, uncalled by any wizard. It felt exited and full of energy.
The clock on the wall in front of him told him it was about half past eight. Not that late for a Sunday but on Samhain he had never managed to sleep past seven. It didn't matter really, he was still a little sleepy and the magic was somewhat distracting, so Harry decided not to lose time pondering over a problem that wasn't really one.
He left the bad, immediately regretting his decision and missing the warmth and softness of the mattress and went to take a shower. The guest suit that he was given was nice and comfortable. The décor reminded him a little of the muggle teashop that his aunt loved to go when he had been younger. The boy knew better than to tell anyone that, trough.
Anyway, he had a bedroom, a sitting room and a bathroom. Everything was in soft pastel colors from brown and yellow to green and blue. It was more than nice and the bed was better than the one he had in Hogwarts.
The bathroom was large and made of white marble and granite. The floor looked a little like a chessboard, actually. There was a bathtub and a shower, a sink and a toilet, all on a much higher level than the ones in the schools. There were no windows, though and the entire room was lit by magic.
Harry went to bathtub and turned the hot water on. He added something of a tube which label said that it was for bubbles and when the water was next to the edge of the tub, he stripped his red pajamas off and went in. The teen didn't really care about the water that poured out of the tub. The warmth of it and the smell of something he couldn't identify overwhelmed him.
About an hour later, the last Potter was finally over with bathing and brushing his teeth and so on. He took his time with stylizing his hair after he dressed up. Instead of robes, he chose the popular for teens sleeveless tunic, under which he had a white shirt and ordinary pants. The clothes were wade of the highest quality materials and were quite expansive. The tunic was in forest green with brown ornaments near the edges of the cloth. The belt he had and the pants were in the same shade of brown. Overall, he looked well in these outfit (if he did say so himself) and the leather boots just finished the picture.
Ten minutes to nine, a house-elf came to tell Harry that breakfast would be served at nine o'clock and could Binky help young Mistress' guest with anything.
"Just show me the way," the boy answered absentmindedly, his entire attention focused on his reflection. For the past few minutes he had been trying to decide how did he looked better, the fringe on the left or on the right.
"Either way's great, honey," the mirror said only with a slight Greek accent. Finally, Harry liked a way his hair looked like and let stay that way.
"Lead the way," he told the small creature and followed it out of the guest room.
The breakfast was served in the parlor and when he arrived, a couple of minutes to nine, only Calypso was there.
"Good morning, fair lady," he said with a solemn expression bowed deeply, almost to the ground. "How do I found thee on this most beautiful autumn morn?" Harry asked with a charming smile and took the chair left of his friend.
"A fine morning, indeed, most noble sir," the brunet answered with a smile and curtsied him. "I feel perfectly fine, Heir Potter. But, tell me, how are you?" her voice sounded urgent and she grasped his hand for the briefest moment before turning away and blushing, or pretending to, anyway. "Were the rooms to your liking, milord?"
"I have never slept on a softer bed," he answered solemnly. The two stayed quiet for a few moments before they burst into laughter. "Your laugh sounds like silver bells, fair lady, please do not stop," Harry said after the teens had managed to compose themselves.
"Always the charmer, Potter, but I shan't fall for your tricks," Calypso lifted her chin and turned her head slightly away from him, as to show her point. "I know what you are, you and your kind, heirs and lords who toy with maidens' hearts. Have you got no shame?"
After several moments of pretending to think, Harry grinned at his friend and shook his head for negative.
"You are incorrigible," the girl said with a smile.
"And I'm proud of it. Say, when are the others coming?"
"Others, or Lady Kalina Petrova?" the Grecian girl asked with a sly grin. "Vanessa said you had a girlfriend. One that was devastated after you dumped her, if I may be as bold as to add. And now, less than a month later, you are out for another one," Harry rolled his eyes, but before he could answer Lord and Heir Megara entered the parlor. The Potter heir stood up from his seat and bowed to the lord of the house, as was proper. Christos only nodded at him before taking his place, while Konstantinos bowed too. Calypso, as daughter and sister to the newcomers was allowed to stay on her place.
After the proper pleasantries were exchanged, the four had a rather quiet breakfast and the main topic of conversation (the only topic) was the Samhain celebration. The guests would be arriving at four thirty and the celebrations would begin at twenty minutes past five. The preparation would of course start much earlier.
Harry couldn't wait to see his Durmstrang friends. Well, some of them, since the Megara House had sent invitations only to pureblood families from the Balkans. He was looking forward to seeing Kalina again but it was not just her. The twins, Vanessa and Georg wouldn't come which was a pity but at least he would get to see so many others.
.
.
.
Calypso retired to her rooms around three and since Harry did have it in him to be overly polite and have long discussions with her male relatives he soon followed her example. He entertained himself with reading some book, which title and contents were forgotten almost immediately.
When four came Harry took a quick shower and changed into his dress robes. They were white with runes written in golden. Most of the other guests, if not all, would wear similar variations. The only true difference would be in the family crests. As an official gathering, all parties were required to wear the symbol of each House. The Potter coat of arms was embodied on Harry's left shoulder. It consisted of red and black shield carried by a lion and a wolf and the family motto over the picture "familiaprimus, amici secunduset munduspostero"
As usual, he looked dashing, even if he did say so himself. The mirror agreed, too. Anyway, at about 4.25 he headed down to the large sitting room arranged for the guests. Like anything else in the manor, the room was decorated in a style from a couple of centuries ago and was simply amazing. The couches were soft and comfortable and the entire wall on his left was made of glass and Harry enjoyed the view to the sea, while sipping of his tea and waiting for the others to arrive.
The room, while it did have a huge fireplace, was connected to another (smaller) chamber to where the other guests would floo.
Soon enough, wizards and witches started to arrive. Almost all of them were from the Balkan Peninsula and the majority spoke on some Slavic language, others used Greek and third - another language he couldn't recognize, which left him the lone Brit, not being able to understand a thing. He was more or less fluent in Russian, of course, but that only helped him to catch a word here and there, definitely not enough. Seeing, as he knew no one of the people gathered, there was no one to introduce him to anyone, and as protocol dictated, he could not start a conversation with someone he did not know.
Harry settled for drinking his tea and pretending not to brood.
"Not having fun, Heir Potter?" a gruff voice from behind startled him. the boy turned around to see who was there. After that, he immediately placed his cup on the table and stood to bow respectfully.
"Master Krum," he greeted the rising Quidditch star with a smile. It had been while since he last saw the youngest Krum child. "How do you do?"
"Наследник Potter," Victor said in Bulgarian. He wore similar white robes but the symbols were not Celtic runes, like Harry's, but rather words from an alphabet called Glagolitic (the twins had showed him one the previous year). "Добър ден," Victor sat next to Harry but took a cup of coffee, instead of tea, no sugar and little milk.
"How it the life of a Quidditch star?" the younger teen asked curiously. The Bulgarian had been chosen as a Seeker by the Bulgarian National team sometime during September and Harry was dying to know more about it.
"It has its perks," the other said with a half smile (of course), it was an old joke that the third Krum child never laughed or smiled fully, but refused to elaborate.
"Do tell."
"But, my friend, why would you want to know such things, lest you want to join the English, hm?" was said with a raised eyebrow. Harry tried not to show his frustration and to grip his cup tighter. "Now, I believe, you haven't been introduced to anyone yet," it was not a question but the younger male still shocked his head for a negative. "Then, let me remedy that, young friend," the two stood up and the Potter heir let his older companion drag him around and introduced him to every person in the (rather large) room.
All the fake smiles and handshakes, and bows were starting to get to Harry but, thankfully, Lord Megara came to announce that the sun was going to set in a couple of minutes and everyone moved to the ballroom. It was bigger than the Great Hall in Hogwarts and much more beautiful. The main colors were white and golden and thousands of candles lit the hall. At the middle of the room was a large balefire and all windows were charmed to show the sun.
At the exact moment it disappear from view, the woods started burning and Christos went in front of the blazing flames and said in his strong rich voice that carried to every corner of the room.
"Έχω ανακοινώσει την έναρξη της γιορτής για το τέλος του καλοκαιριού," everybody started clapping and Harry followed their example.
"He announced the beginning of the celebrations," Victor whispered in his year. The younger turned and saw the Bulgarian grinning. "You should do well to find a dance partner, young friend. And to do it fast," he patted him on the shoulder and went toward a gathering of young witches. Harry had little choice but to follow his advice. While the dances did not start until ten o'clock it was better to have a chosen partner for the first dance a few hours before that.
Almost next to him, he saw a blond girl around his age. She was looking around excitedly, her blue eyes sparkling. Victor had introduced her as Natasha Slivovitz, second daughter to some Serbian lord whose first name Harry hadn't bothered to remember. She was pretty little thing and looked amazing with her dress robes. Harry could only hope she was not someone else's date.
He went to her, and bowed gracefully. The teen made sure to uncover his scar for a second and let the girl see it.
"May I have the first dance, my lady?" he shot her a winning smile and waited for an answer.
"You may, Heir Potter," her voice was soft and melodic but a tad too quiet. Perhaps the girl was shy.
"Do call me Harry, lady Slivovitz," he said with another flirting smile. "When I hear Potter I think of school," Harry grimaced a little, "not a very nice topic."
"Then you may use my given name as well, Heir Po… Harry," Natasha had a nice smile, the boy noticed. Now, how did she sound when she laughed?
Harry didn't have the opportunity to see, however, since the girl's father called her and it was unlikely for them to talk more before the dances. Knowing that, the boy decided to mingle a little with people and look for his friends.
He didn't go far. Not even ten minutes later, a man in his mid-twenties stop him. He was, if Harry wasn't mistaken, from Bulgaria and a heir to the Ivanov Family. His hair was brown (light, not dark) and his eyes were a few shades darker than his owns. Boyan, or something, soon engaged him in a conversation about different types of brooms and Quidditch and seemed too interested in Harry. It became clear, when he introduced him to his younger sister Maria. Unlike her brother, she had much darker hair and hazel eyes and was about his age. Harry was unable to leave without having to invite Maria to the second dance. He didn't mind that much, though, the girl was nice to look at and they had had a pleasant ten-minutes conversation.
After he managed to leave their company (and the company of several other Bulgarians that had joined them), Harry had less than five minutes alone before he was cornered by a group of Greek teens around his age. This was when he realized that he would not be able to stay by himself and look for his friends. They'd have to find him.
The boys were nice, though, if a bit overly enthusiastic. They asked questions about Hogwarts and Durmstrang and explained about the Balkan Academy for Magic to him. The course in the northern school was very demanding and it was difficult for some to keep up. The castle was not very big either and while it had more students than Hogwarts there weren't enough places for all that wanted to go. Because of that, in the early seventeenth century the Academy had opened its doors somewhere in the mountains (not that he was told where exactly).
Several girls from the same school joined them when they were discussing the differences between Hogwarts and the Academy. While it was exhausting (with all fake smiles and hidden meanings behind the words), it was nice getting to know people from other countries.
"Harry," a female voice called him. The teen turned and saw Calypso with Kalina and several other students from Durmstrang. After promising to meet his new female acquaintances on the dance floor, Harry went to join his friends.
The formal greetings took nearly half an hour and by then it was time for dinner. There were many carefully arranged tables in a room next to ball hall. They were round and had place for six people. The meals were nothing extravagant and had no meat. Most of them were raw vegetables and fruits, some mushrooms and simple bakeries.
Harry was placed on the same table with Kalina, Victor, Victor's siblings – two older brothers and a sister. The eldest was twenty-three years old and looked like an older version of Harry's friend. Nikolai did smile a lot freely than his younger brother, though. The second Krum was Momchil. He was younger by a couple of years and had blond hair (the only one of the family with blond hair). His was much more open than his siblings' and Harry instantly liked him. Unlike the sister; shad the same dark eyes and hair like the eldest but if her nose could be higher in the air the Brit would applaud her. Nina Krum looked like a female Bulgarian version of Draco Malfoy.
The four siblings seemed to forget him and half of the time spoke in their birth language. Thankfully, Kalina was there as well and Harry did his best to keep her entertained. The two children spent the time catching up and telling each other funny stories from school.
.
.
.
"Her eyes look even bluer up-close," Harry though as he danced with Natasha. The first dance was waltz, a very slow one. The music came as if from nowhere but somehow managed to sound in every single corner of the hall.
"You are a very good dancer, Heir Harry," Natasha said softly. Her voice was quiet and if they weren't standing so close, the teen wasn't sure he would be able to hear her.
"Thank you, fair lady, but I'm afraid my skills are nothing compared with yours. I feel like a troll next to a tree nymph," she looked amazing with her redden cheeks and eyes looking down shyly.
"Do not mock me," her voice sounded stern but she refused to meet his eyes.
Harry thrilled his dance partner and pulled her closer to him.
"I speak only the truth," he said seriously. The Serbian girl looked at him and seeing no lie, smiled.
"Then, thank you, for the compliment."
"There is no need to thank me for saying the truth," sadly, before they could speak more the music stopped and Harry had to find Maria for the second dance.
The next couple of hours passed in a similar way - the Potter heir never once leaving the dance floor and each dance with a different girl in his arms. Harry had to admit, regardless of how much he hated dancing, he was actually enjoying himself.
It was almost midnight. Finally, Harry though with a smile, it was time for the most important part of the Samhain celebrations.
.
.
.
κληρονόμος potter, τι κάνεισ? –
heir potter, how do you do?
Το αρχοντικό είναι εκεί – the manor is over there
Ακάθαρτος –
impure
familia primus, amici secundus et mundus postero – family first,
friends second and the world next
наследник потър, добър ден –
heir potter, good afternoon
Έχω ανακοινώσει την έναρξη της γιορτής για το τέλος του καλοκαιριού -
I announce the beginning of the celebration about the summer's end
.
Last Revised: 29.03.2014
