Rowthan 10

Note - Blame/Thank Exams. They just keep getting harder. Nearly regretting Grad School.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

"Bold..." - Bulgarian

o-0-O-0-o

He went straight to the ship's Aviary where the official Rowthan Avian – a Red Shouldered Hawk that everyone on the ship knew was for Official Rowthan usage only - resided. Adelphos and his mate Adelphe were the only Avians the Rowthans used for official communication. Hedwig didn't like it and she bit his hands until Harry persuaded Katarzyna – ie he blew up the potion four times before she took over the brewing – to brew a Bird Speak Potion and was able to understand why his familiar was so upset.

Adelphos took off with a regal "scree" towards the castle and Harry leaned against the railing.

'I can handle a six hour Wizengamot session but ask me to negotiate a meeting with my own father and I'm clueless.' He thought as he closed his eyes. 'I wish… I wish I could talk to Kip.'

Kiprian was someone who could tell Harrison whatever he needed to hear – or it seemed like it most of the time. The man taught him a few lessons that the heir of Rowthan wouldn't soon forget, escpecially since his mentor died during his fifth year at Durmstrang.

It was the first funeral he'd attended since Lord Rowthan passed. It was the first time he saw Katarzyna as anything more than a friend. With her suggestion, Harry wrote his mentor a farewell letter – addressing it simply: Kip.

"Rowthan?" Katarzyna's soft voice called out as she came on board the ship, the crisp autumn breeze blowing across the lake and into their faces.

"Kat." He said not turning around. "Enjoy your breakfast?"

"It was fine." She said as she leaned against the railing to his right. "Hedwig is a beautiful owl."

"I suppose." He mused, even though his mind was still on his father and Kip.

"Are you alright, my love?" she asked as she looked at him carefully.

"Fine." He muttered. "Jacob wanted to talk."

"That is not surprising, the Rowthans and the Potters have commonly voted in terms of the budgeting for the Ministry. I heard that the two of you are asking for less spending for Lord Malfoy and more for Lord Prewitt's and Weasley's wards."

Harry nodded, "Lord Malfoy is trying to insist that wards that are over 17 years of age are "fine". Riley & Company offered to give a free estimate and realized that the Muggle repelling wards on the aviaries are failing. The last thing we need is for a muggle to find a golden Hen."

Katarzyna shook her head, the Prewitts and the Weasleys were known for their abilities to breed magical avians. If their wards were failing on the coops it wouldn't be wise for muggles to find "gold" eggs whose shells could only be used for Potions and for decoration. It was the closest people could get to real gold without buying the real thing. Plus the yolks and whites, when used for cooking, were some of the best money could buy. "Have you ever thought that he acts only the way he is expected? The world sees only what he lets them, perhaps the true Jacob Potter has yet to be seen."

Harry shook his head, "That I'll only believe when I see it." He said, walking from the railing. "All my life, I've avoided this place. Now I know why. I cannot be who I am meant to be here. "

Katarzyna paused, of all of the conversations they had over the years, it was the discussions about is born family that were the rarest.

Before Harry, she'd never known a male to cry. But she remembered it still. She remembered the utterly shocked look on his face when a strange black bird delivered a letter. He'd eagerly opened the letter only for it to fall from his fingers moments later. He stood and calmly walked out of the dining hall – he never made it to class.

As a student Delegate (Durmstrang's version of a Prefect), Rowthan was immediately noticed to have been missing in Offensive Magic when it was taught by the present Headmaster – Igor Karkaroff. Headmaster Vasiliev found him locked in his and Victor's room, buried underneath his blankets and simply staring at a photo taken over the summer in Denmark with Kip. Until a week after the funeral, Harry acted as his usual self – or relatively. While he and Katarzyna were studying (Victor had been in detention) when he just… broke down. The tears started and he couldn't stop them. She had not known what do and simply held him.

It was odd how relationships began sometimes.

-HJRP-

That night, Harry sat at his desk composing a letter to Lady Rowthan regarding his opinions regarding the legislation that was currently being drafted by the Grey Party in Wizengamot. The Rowthan family was known for their strength in times of strife and even now Harry was wondering how he was supposed to be a Rowthan when he felt more confused than ever.

He finished the letter and sealed it within an envelope just as Victor knocked on the door lightly with his left hand.

"Rowthan."

Harry turned towards him, "Vic, come in."

"Danke, Katarzyna was wondering if you forgot about the student meeting."

Harry frowned as Victor came in and he looked at the clock – he'd spent more time on that letter than he'd realized. "Nyet. Thank you for coming to get me."

Victor nodded, of all of the students who came with them to Hogwarts, only a few of them had responsibilities that extended beyond the school – Rowthan included. Most of them who did have other duties (Tsarevich Michel Romanov) chose to remain at Durmstrang and not participate in the Tournament – the rare few (like Rowthan) had not had a choice.

Rowthan followed Victor to the galley below deck. There, the twelve 6th years and the other eight 7th years sat and waited.

"What is this meeting about anyway?" Ric asked the 7th year Delegates while the rest of them murmured their agreements – the meeting was prompted by a few concerned 7th years.

"Chmerkovsky asked for it." Harry answered as he sat down and looked at the black haired Ukrainian.

Stefan nodded, "Thank you, now as we all know, we are not on our home "turf". We are on British soil."

They nodded their agreement.

"Then I will get straight to the point. English is, at best, our second or third language."

Everyone nodded and Rowthan's face hardened as he realized where the conversation was going.

"We need someone we can trust to translate for us." Theresa Zeller, a young lady with ash blonde hair and a straight nose with thin brown eyes, said as she looked around the galley at her fellow students.

"So, will you Rowthan?"

"Will I what?" he asked as he looked at the other students around him, from the petit Vanessa Schnyder with the tips of her dark brown hair dyed pink and neon color – the seven years she'd attended Durmstrang she had yet to have the same hair color combination twice, to the tallest of all of the Durmstrang students Alexi Tamirov (who fit the stereotypical Russian image to the T.

"You grew up here, in England." Konstantin insisted as they began to plead.

"I was born in Wales, Wagner." Harry corrected as he pursed his lips in contemplation.

"Rowthan, please. Among us only a few of us are fluent. Please."

"Why not ask them?"

"They are trying and English is not their first language."

They did have a point, Kat could only translate so long as she could understand the context. "Why should I?"

"We'll pay you."

"I don't need any money."

"Rowthan, we trust you." Ric stated.

Harry sighed and then nodded. "Fine."

"How much do you want to charge?"

Harry shook his head, "I told you, I don't need any money."

"You would charge Michel if he were here."

"Only because his honor would demand it."

"Ours as well."

"A sickle an hour." Harry offered.

"A Galleon."

"Two sickles." He countered.

"Ten sickles."

"One. Sickle."

"Two sickles."

"One."

"Two."

Harry glared at them.

"Fine, one and for your honor they will be donated to the Scholarship fund." Aleena lamented, referring to the fund that gave scholarships for the rare first generations who went to Durmstrang.

Most of Durmstang's population was half bloods if not more, but at the same time bullying was not tolerated. One of the first generation magicals had attempted suicide a few years before and since then Durmstrang had had a zero tolerance policy. If anyone crossed the line between picking on a student and actual bullying (and yes there was a line) that student would be suspended and then later expelled. It was not common as students were well aware of Durmstrang's strict attitude and not many schools would accept a student who'd been expelled from Durmstrang. Unlike Hogwarts, a wand was not snapped when they were expelled but it was definitely a trying experience to find another school. Most persons expelled often had to repeat a year or two by the time they finally found a new school.

"We do have other issues we need to address." Rowthan pointed out. "And if the monies are going to the Scholarship fund, my honor would be remiss if I did not suggest that those using my services this year should be generous in their donations."

Everyone smiled, Rowthan had a soft spot for first generations. Granted, the Alumni Association donated heavily to the school so the average student only paid 600 Galleons a year to attend Durmstrang and the 5% flat tax Eastern Europe paid (by countries whose magical population went primarily to Durmstrang, it did not punish countries like Bulgaria) covered the rest of the cost for the salaries and what not.

"Da, like the 6th years." Victor agreed. "Independent study is fine for the 7th years, we are getting ready to leave school, we have already taken the NEWTs and are nearly ready for our Masteries but it is not favorable when NEWTs are at the end of the year."

Josef nodded, "We need an actual instructor for the Magics and it would not be opposed if we could at least attend the Defense Against the Dark Arts Class that Hogwarts has. Potter or not, the Professor was a Dragon and before the whole "one hit wonder" nonsense the Potter line was renowned for their Mastery of Defensive Magic. To be able to join in with the class would not be opposed, especially if we seek our Mastery."

Harry nodded, he knew of his father's abilities in both Transfiguration and Defense and he also knew that he had consulted with all of his Professors last year before NEWTs. "I will see what I can do but the lot of you realize that the only way we may be able to get this is if we get the same privileges for Beauxbatons?"

Katarzyna nodded thoughtfully, "Their 6th years will need to sit the OWL classes and we all know that they put even less emphasis on Offensive and Defensive Magic than Hogwarts."

Jarek Vogel nodded, "Perhaps we may use that to bring the students on board? We could get permission for Transfiguration and Arithmacy. Professors McGonagall and Vector are legendary throughout the continent. McGonagall spoke at the Symposium last year in Prague. She talked about the link between intent and the words used. She was brilliant."

The lot of them nodded.

Harry looked at Marik, "We need to avoid involving the Thirteen."

Marik nodded, the two heirs of the Thirteen knew that if they were to involve the Thirteen heirs at Beauxbatons (Rene Devereaux and Louis Geroux – a distant cousin of their fellow Durmstrang student and fellow member of the Thirteen Isabel Gerwulf) then things would get complicated. "We could walk up to any other member of the Coterie and talk to them. But if we were to talk to the two we are most familiar with we would have to call a Conclave."

Rowthan nodded, "What about Delacour?"

"What about her?"

"She is not a member of the Thirteen. Her family is involved with the French Government. They are respected and Mademoiselle Delacour is perfectly capable of representing Beauxbatons."

"In other words, if we approach her and Rene and Louis ask to sit in with the meetings… we would avoid a Conclave." Marik said, understanding immediately.

"Wait… what is a Conclave?" Ric asked, not understanding although it was clear that the two heirs of the Thirteen went off on a tangent to an area that they did not know.

"A Conclave is a formal meeting of the heirs of the Thirteen. The only way to avoid a Conclave is through informal communication through members of a similar party or group. For Rowthan and I, a Conclave every time we needed to talk to each other would be more inconvenient; a conclave would be redundant and unnecessary."

Ric nodded, "Alright, I think I understand."

Harry rose, "I will contact Mademoiselle Delacour. Hedwig is looking for more exercise. If you all will excuse me, I will go pen the letter."

Chapter End.