Summary: Raised in Russia by his maternal grandfather, Harry Potter attends Durmstrang, and rises up to the challenge set for him: to defeat the Dark Lord, or to die trying. OOC. AU. HP/DG.
Divergence
Prologue
She's Romani, with big blue eyes and pale blonde hair. He's captivated by her, by the upturn of her nose and the freckles on her cheekbones, by the way her linen shirt clings to her curves, and how her skirt dances about her bare ankles. Before he can approach, however, Viktor slaps him on the shoulder, tells him that she's out of their league, and drags him away.
Yasha, or Yakov, or Heinrich, or Henri, or Henry - he's lost track of the names by now - doesn't dwell on it, and instead, embraces the gathering he's dragged towards. A shot of vodka is shoved into his hands, there's music, and the company of friends, they toast to disappointing defeat, and the night drags on - until it doesn't.
There's screams, and fire, and bone white masks. There's panic, and pandemonium, and running in the dark, and Yasha, whose birth name is actually Henry, finds himself in the company of the Romani girl, whose not actually Romani at all, hands clasped between them, breaths heavy, his wand a lifeline in his other hand. The girl runs beside him, her bare feet scratched up by stones and twigs and such, until the campsite is far beyond their sight and hearing, until the only thing he can hear is the girl's muffled cursing - she's got quite the filthy, multi-lingual mouth on her, he comes to learn - and his own laboured breaths.
He kneels across from her, reaches for her battered feet, and queries, "Are you alright?"
His English is fluent, albeit accented, but he's ascertained that it's her first language - at least, there are distinctly more English expletives than not - and as he puts his rudimentary keeling skills to use, he awaits an answer.
"I'll be fine," she answers through gritted teeth. She lets him at her feet, if only begrudgingly, and adds, "Thank you."
"It is not a problem," he replies, gives her a flash of a smile, and returns his focus to his task. He works in silence, she watches with a gimlet eye, and the woods are silent around them.
Even the animals have fled, it seems.
"I'm Daphne," she declares. He looks at her - she seems uncomfortable - and he smiles again.
"Despite the circumstances, it is a pleasure to meet you, Daphne." And even though he knows it's perhaps the stupidest thing he's ever done, he adds, "My name is Henry."