Summary:
Previously. . . Harry's seventh life has been revealed and what entails him as Damianos Grindelwald.
CHAPTER 5:
Harry opened his eyes, he wasn't in his room. All he could see was the sight of a battlefield. Blood, smoke, and bodies littered the places. He sighed hopelessly. Another memory.
He saw the smoke of a fiery spell. Voices were muffled, faces were blurred, but in the middle of it all was the man who caused such chaos. Tears rolling down his hazel eyes as he stared at two bodies. The one who was supposed to be the happiest of the thirteen.
"Malcolm!"
Harry stared at the figure of his second life. The bodies of 25 year old Barty Crouch Jr. and Rabastan Lestrange were still on the ground. Malcolm, who was the same age as the two, stared at his best friends' dead bodies. Harry turned towards the voice that had called out to his second life, eyes softening as James ran to his younger brother.
His beloved younger brother who had massacred people from the light and dark. Yet the man thought nothing of the blood in his brother's hands, only fear for Malcolm's safety was in his mind.
"Malcolm! Malcolm!"
James yelled more as Malcolm pointed his wand towards another wizard. A member of the order. A face Malcolm could not forget— the man who killed Barty. The only thing Malcolm could see was red as sent a lethal curse towards the man. In retaliation, the man conjured his own.
"Reducto!" Malcolm had yelled.
The next thing Harry knew, he was looking away from Malcolm being met with the blasting curse. He knew the sensation of his own magic seeping from his blood. He opened his eyes, grimacing at James who held Malcolm. The younger brother— whose body had been blasted to pieces, blood staining James's clothes. His younger brother's blood on his face.
"Tell… tell Pandora and Doras...that I'm sorry for breaking our promise… tell her...Tell Dora I'm sorry… for making them the last one… I'm sorry I won't be there…for my nephew and goddaughter…"
The memory shifted, and Harry saw the silhouette of a man, whimpering and sobbing in the most pathetic way he had seen. His vision was limited, but as soon as he looked up, Harry saw red and understood. A wry grin formed on his face, utter malice in his eyes as he saw the familiar man murmuring for mercy.
"Wormtail."
—and a voice that Harry could never forget.
" Du siehst schrecklich aus. Did you get enough sleep?" Gellert asked, scowling at the disheveled appearance of his son's 13th life. Harry rolled his eyes. 3 weeks had already passed since Gellert was freed from Nurmengard. The entire 3 weeks, Harry was updating Gellert of the current timeline, often mentioning things from his past life. It had been peaceful.
They had spent Harry's birthday leisurely reading through the library. Gellert had Winly— who was now serving as his temporary elf— buy a gift for Harry. The boy had received an elegant looking antique music box that played Ludwig Van Beethoven's symphony no. 9. It had been Damian Grindelwald's favorite and the song that often put him to sleep. Harry hadn't stopped smiling for the entire day after that.
"No. I did not."
"Nightmares? The dreams of your past life?" Gellert asked, noticing the surprised look Harry wore. "You mentioned such things when you were a child. Muttering of how painful it is to die sometimes. I had thought… I had thought you were affected by the happenings in nurmengard. The murder and torture within that place…"
The memories within Nurmengard were fresh for only one of them. Harry's memories of his seventh life were blurred. However, Gellert was familiar with it. Nurmengard was many things to the dark lord. It was a prison he created for his enemies then unexpectedly became his own little hellhole. But at the same time, it was home, at some point. It was the place where he had spent time with Freida, it was where Damian Was born and raised.
"Freida was quite… adamant that our son would grow in the place I built. Such a loyal follower she was. One of the rare muggleborns who agreed with me." Gellert chuckled wryly.
"You never talked about mein mutter that much. I only heard from Vinda that she was absolutely devoted to you with a deep ingrained hatred for muggles." Harry murmured, causing Gellert to smile.
"Dearest Freida had been unfortunate to be born into a heavily religious household. When she first displayed accidental magic, her parents had sent her to church… to pray, to have faith in god, to… to be exorcised. It was my great aunt who took her in when she fled from her family. A talented witch." A long sigh left Gellerts lips. Nostalgia in his eyes.
"Freida was not… always Freida. She had never felt right in her body." He trailed off, "Freida was born Hubert before my great aunt found her. After a while… She asked for a potion. She drank and killed Hubert, the child who had been terrorized by her parents. Freida was born, the revival of the Nachtnebel family."
The Nachtnebel family… a dark yet fallen family of wizarding Germany. Damianos Grindelwald was announced to be the last member of that family before his own death. The surname itself meant 'night fog' and was a name of a decree in the second world war. How ironic.
"Nachtnebel… you never told me what was so special about that family aside from the fact there's an ancient dark house."
"I cannot completely remember either. If I can retrieve the archives in Nurmengard…" Trailed, eyes fleeting towards the great snowy owl flying towards Harry.
Hedwig landed just by Harry's plate, offering her claw.
"Oh… oh fuck! I forgot!" Harry snatched the letter from Hedwig, giving the owl a sheepish smile as he offered her his bacon. Ron's letter in hand, he hastily opened it. The familiar, quite messy handwriting, of the youngest Weasley son was written on the letter.
"Ah right… Gellert, I might have to leave you here for a few days. My friend from school still thinks I'm in my abusive household and offered to let me stay in their home." Harry explained, standing from his seat. "I have to say yes or they'll be suspicious."
Gellert smiled softly. "Of course. It's nice that you actually have friends. When you attended Durmstrang, you were never associated with anyone."
"Well… the school wasn't the issue. I attended Durmstrang three times, Damian Was my second time being a Durmstrang student." Harry admitted before grabbing some toast and running up his room. He grinned like a fool, "Tell me if you want to know more about the future… or you'll depend on your clairvoyance for that."
"Well… I've seen bits and pieces of it these past few days. Do try not to kill yourself in the tournament." Gellert hummed, disregarding his empty plate and reaching for his orange juice. He gave Harry a deadpan, quite serious yet amused.
Gellert had seen flashes. . .of Dumbledore calling out Harry's name. Of a dragon that soared the sky. Of vivid green eyes staring daggers at red hues. But before those images, he'd seen a smoky green skull illuminating the night sky. How Harry stood underneath it with the same insane grin Damian once wore. "Also… be careful during the quidditch world cup. Don't cause too much trouble or the ministry will come calling."
"You don't have to worry about the world cup. It's more of an excuse to meet up with a lovely seer similar to yourself. Also...I won the tournament once, I can do it again. Besides…"
Harry smirked.
"I'm in need of someone's blood to revive one of my past life familiars."
Dear Ron,
I don't think it's a good idea for you to come to the Dursleys. My aunt and uncle have been in utterly horrid moods lately. I think we should meet in Diagon Alley. My aunt will do anything to get rid of me and instantly agreed! Also thanks for the cake. Mione and Sirius sent some cake too. I had to hide it from my relatives 'cause Dudley's supposed to be on a diet. Shame though.
Tell Mrs. Weasley I said thank you for the treacle tart she sent!
From, Harry Potter.
Ron and his father had entered the leaky cauldron— Ron, in particular, was quite anxious. Harry's was short, concise, and straight to the point. It was rather Harry , the letter was but his handwriting wasn't… wasn't completely the same as he knew. Harry's handwriting was admittedly more messy than the one he had seen in the letter. Even the signature looked like a much more elegant version of Harry's actual signature.
Harry took longer to answer his letter. Even Hermione had agreed that Harry's responses were quite slow nowadays. It hadn't been the same from the summer before, but at the same time it felt similar. Harry had run to the leaky cauldron when he accidentally blew up his aunt, now the boy had requested to meet them in the very same place.
It was only right for Ron to be concerned. His leg constantly bounced as he tapped his finger on the side of his other leg. Eyes fleeting across the pub in search for a familiar dark haired boy with unique green eyes. His father was calmer than him in this situation, but still, Arthur looked concerned. He had planned to go to Privet Drive with his son's just a few days ago, only for Harry to send a letter stating they should not.
However, to Ron's relief, he caught sight of an all too familiar head of pitch-black hair. Immediately stood from where he was sitting and rushed towards Harry to envelope him in a bear-like hug. On the other hand, Harry who had just exited the room he had been using, was a bit startled but not too surprised. He had expected this, chuckling as he, loosely , wrapped his arms around Ron in a comforting manner.
"Don't worry me like that you bloody git!" Ron exclaimed, scolding Harry with a ferocious glare. Harry nodded, turning to Mr. Weasley with a friendly smile.
"My bad… I ended up here just a few days ago for early shopping, my uncle had a fit after I mentioned coming here." Harry wryly explained. He had bought his school supplies beforehand, having already memorized the needed materials for the next year. Although he did end up buying an expendable trunk with a lock and more and more books regarding his 12th life's studies— potions and alchemy. "So, when's the quidditch world cup?"
Ron's eyes gleamed in delight, "It's in two days! Almost the entire family and Hermione are coming."
"How'd you get the tickets though? Especially with how many of us are going."
Arthur chuckled, patting Ron's shoulder as the boy huffed out in pride. "Not to worry about that, lad. Ludo Bagman owed me, so the tickets are how he's repaying. The best seats a person could get too!"
Harry only smiled pleasantly. The best seats meaning the prime seats, the top box of the stadium. Admittedly it was the best in terms of the view for those genuinely interested in the match and a good place for negotiations due to how many officials were gathered. Ministers for multiple countries of Europe would be inside the top box, either making bets, or scheming together. It was a setting that could be so loud and distracting that no one would be able to suspect much. That included Harry himself.
"That would be lovely Mr. Weasley. Are we going to the burrow now or later? I can retrieve my belongings from my room." Harry smiled, gesturing to the stairs. Arthur chuckled, lightly shoving Ron forward, to which the youngest son scowled.
"C'mon mate, I'll help you pack up." Ron grumbled but looked rather excited.
Harry smiled thoughtfully, pitying the boy who was ignorant to what would happen during the world cup. Alas, ignorance truly was blissful and the little mercy Harry was capable of was spent on that.
Hypocrite.
Arriving at the burrow, it hadn't changed from Harry's slightly foggy memory of it. The last time Harry had actually visited the Burrow was in his sixth life. He smiled wryly, remembering how Death Eaters had burned the house down, a pity. Its structure was strange, but the magic holding it up was fascinating.
Harry landed much more gracefully once he emerged from the fireplace. Dusting his clothes, he looked around the Weasley's living room. The two eldest sons; Bill and Charlie, were already there. Harry instantly grinned at them, especially Charlie who Harry had befriended personally in his sixth life as Orpheus Black.
Free and George had come barrelling down the stairs like the maniacs they were and grinned right back at Harry. The two lunged forward, sandwiching Harry between them.
"It's nice to see you again Harrykins!" Free yelled, squeezing tighter. Harry— poor, poor Harry, could not breathe and began hitting the boy. Fred yelped as Harry's hand met his face, pouting as he nursed his red nose.
George laughed heartily, patting Harry's head. "'Least our seekers arms strengths still good. The muggles haven't bothered you much have they? No more bars on your windows?" He asked, his smile faltering as he looked at the younger boy in immense worry.
Harry shook his head, "Not at all. My uncle and cousin have been prats, but my aunt…" he trailed off, unconsciously reaching for the locket hidden under his shirt. "Well she's been tolerable."
George nodded, before resuming his cheshire grin. The twins dragged their honorary little brother towards their two eldests, which had been a great experience for Harry. Bill was pleasant and still knowledgeable about curse breaking, runes, and the workings of Gringotts. Charlie was an absolute delight as he and Harry discussed Dragons and the like, which caused Ron to shudder as he heard the mention of Norbert— Norberta now apparently.
It was quite difficult for Harry to not stop smiling as Charlie gushed of how adorable dragons were. A fond look upon his face, before shaking his head and playing the role of Charlie's younger brother's best friend. He wasn't Orpheus anymore. It had been decades— a century maybe, since he had been Orpheus Black. This wasn't the same Charlie Weasley he had been friends with.
At some point, Hermione came from the kitchen, squeaked in delight and hugged Harry tightly. The boy firmly reciprocated the embrace, startling Hermione. She had pulled away, narrowed her eyes then suddenly squeezed his arm. A small hum left her lips, a smile breaking from her stern expression.
"You've gotten better. Less skin and bone I must say." She chuckled, looking ultimately relieved. But just in case, she grabbed Harry's arm again and continued to squeeze. A small flush stained her face, coughing as she turned towards Ron who gave her an incredulous look.
The two boys met eyes, before Ron stepped towards Harry and went to grab Harry's arm.
"Ron! Show Harry where he'll be staying! And— welcome back Harry." Mrs. Weasley smiled, as Harry nodded awkwardly. Ron was sulking for a bit, before nodding in agreement to his mother's orders.
Harry had conflicted feelings for Molly Weasley. She was, admittedly, rather overbearing. In his first life, he had felt warm and loved because of her affection, but once again his connection to the Weasleys were brought back to his fifth life. As Orpheus, he wasn't on good terms with Molly Weasley. For one, he was a suspected dark wizard and attended Durmstrang. Molly did not like her second born being friends with him. Second, she had been arrogant enough to think that her decisions were best for Harry, his other self, and she often chastised Orpheus for simply keeping Harry updated in things.
He didn't hate her, but he didn't like her either. Harry was more or less tolerant and annoyed of the Weasley Matriarch's attitude. Although he suspected she thought she was entitled to make the decisions for others due to her being the mother of seven children. She was a caring yet overbearing person. Harry disliked overbearing people, they were… in the nicest way he could admit, very inconvenient.
"Harry? You alright mate?" Ron asked as they climbed up the stairs towards the room they would be staying in.
"Hm? Oh, perfect. What was that about the business the twins wanted to start?" Harry tilted his head, causing Ron and Ginny to go on a tirade of the future pranking business Harry knew Fred and George would be able to start.
"Hello Percy." Harry greeted the third son, who nodded back at him. Ron's room, to his memory, was quite cramped. Especially now with his trunk shoved into a corner. He grimaced, hoping that nothing would be damaged.
He sighed, rubbing his chest, specifically where Amarantha's gem would be. Ron began to argue with Ginny about the two teams going up against each other during the cup. While he and Hermione were sitting quietly listening to the two fingers fight. The girl glanced towards him, tilting her head as she poked Harry's arm again.
It didn't incite much of a reaction aside from a small glance. "Really… you've gotten healthier, no offense." She commented, smiling at Harry who chuckled at her comment. She smiled, quite glad that Harry was getting better. She felt guilty, of course, but she was still glad he was okay.
"Thankfully so. Your parents are okay with you coming, right?" A pinched look formed on Harry's expression, trying his hardest not to show his disdain.
Hermione nodded, not noticing the dark look in his eyes. "Mum and Dad made me promise I'd behave, though." She said, smiling at Ginny and Ron passionately defending their favorite quidditch teams.
Harry nodded, cautiously glancing towards Hermione before patting her bushy head. He laughed softly as Hermione swatted his hand away without a second glance.
"Oh goodness… I can't believe I'm going to have to ask Fred and George of all people about the OWL's. Percy is far too busy to entertain my questions." Hermione huffed.
"I don't think so. They're quite brilliant if you ask me. They're able to make a bunch of ridiculous inventions that would take a mighty lot of knowledge and skill. Believe me, they'll have good advice… somehow." Harry fell against the bed, smiling as Hermione gave him a weird look. He has always found the twins brilliant, it was only logical for him to allow others to see what he saw.
"You're joking."
"I'm not 'Mione. They're brilliant."
"If you say so." Hermione sighed, "I think they're finished arguing. Should we help your mum set the table?"
§Loud… ears hurt…§
Harry sighed, narrowing his eyes at the horrid noise of Ron's snoring. He couldn't sleep, caressing Amarantha's gem as he listened to his old familiar whimper at the noise. He took out the yew wand and casted a wordless silencing spell on the boy. To his thanks, Ron still looked like he was snoring but no sound left the boy. The spell would wear off when he woke up.
§Better?§
§Nice…quiet…master's voice…§
Harry hummed, rubbing his thumb on the gem. Amarantha's soul was peacefully residing in the gem, only a few more requirements left for Harry to resurrect the familiar he had unfortunately killed. A part of him wished that he had just let Ginny die in hopes that Amarantha wouldn't have had to suffer the blade he used. But alas… he had woken up after the serpent died.
He wondered whether when Dumbledore would notice he no longer lived in the Dursleys. He'd tampered with the man's wards, made sure Dumbledore would think that Harry was still there. Potter Manor was a far cry from the atrociously clean 4 Privet drive. Although Potter Manor was more. . .secluded, isolated, lonely was the best he could describe it.
He could easily compare the days he lived as Malcolm Potter, happily running through the halls of the manor as James chased after him. When he was in his fourth year, Sirius came into the fray and him and James were the ones to be having fun. Malcolm was often left out, but he had endured it. He still hated Sirius for abandoning Regulus.
Harry's thoughts wandered as he recalled that having seats in the top box had many advantages. Examples were meeting with notable figures or different countries, Harry was more interested in meeting someone of Russia's noble family. His sixth life had heavily influenced him after all.
He wondered whether Nadia Markova still existed in this world. Whether Orpheus Vladimir Black's mother was still alive, perhaps with another child that wasn't him. The thought saddened him, but the chances were always there. He had encountered similar things before, and constantly told himself that he couldn't do anything about it.
If Nadia had a son that wasn't Orpheus, he questioned what that boy's name would be. Would it also be Orpheus? He highly doubted it. What would their patronymic name be? Orpheus was half British, thus he had a middle name rather than a patronymic one.
A part of him was bitter…
"Nadia… did you give birth to a child worthy of being your son?"
A simple question he asked no one in particular as he laid back down in the bed, clutching Amarantha's gem as he closed his eyes. It wasn't too hard for him to forget. The reflection he once had of wavy dark hair and silvery purple eyes. The very same eyes his mother had… Did her child have the same eyes? Was he as brash and harsh as he was?
Nadia had been a protective and fierce woman. Orpheus took after his mother when it came to his personality and his appearance was closely compared to Sirius… except his eyes. He had his maternal grandfather's eyes. They weren't silver like Sirius's, they were less gray and more like violet. The lack of pigment in his eyes and the red light reflecting from his blood vessels. Nadia and Sirius had suspected the weird coloring was due to their bloodlines mixing.
He wondered… whether that child would have their grandfather's eyes. Whether that child was better than him. But it had been years since Harry was Orpheus. Years, decades, perhaps e century had passed since he was Nadia Markova's only child.
§Master…tired? Hurt?§
Harry pursed his lips, quietly apologizing to Amarntha as he caressed the gem. Emerald eyes stared at the gem that reflected his eye color, a small smile gracing his lips. He was never able to understand what Amarantha said in his previous life— always depending on others to translate her words.
Parseltongue was a blessing to him.
§I'm okay. Return to sleep and continue to rest. Don't waste your energy, not before I resurrect you.§
The gem seemed to hum, vibrating softly in his palm. He sighed, resting his head back against the pillow and tucking himself in. He stared at the ceiling, glancing towards Ron before turning back to the ceiling. His thoughts began to drift towards other things, closing his eyes as he began to count.
130, 129, 128, 127, 126, 125, 124, 123, 122, 121, 120… 110…100…90…80…70…60…50…
He continued to count until he finally thought of the number zero. His eyes slowly closed and he drifted off to sleep without another word. His thirteenth life was just beginning, the future was set to change. Harry promised himself that his thirteenth life wouldn't be an exact copy of his first. Things were already different…
There wouldn't be anything wrong with changing the future entirely.
Notes:
More of Malcolm's past has been revealed.
I'm pretty sure the reason why I made Mrs. Weasley a bit unlikable is because I find her to be rather. . . Annoying? Frustrating? Overbearing?
Mrs. Weasley isn't a bad character. There won't be Molly bashing in this story but Harry mildly dislikes her due to her views. I guess that sometimes, the Weasley couple are just really devoted to Dumbledore and I didn't particularly like that. I believe that if any abuse or mistreatment the Dursleys had done to Harry entered the public, they'd have been less devoted and bit suspicious. They're parents after all.
But this is a version of Harry that has grown up with all kinds of parental love and hatred. I seem to have forgotten to write about it since the small tidbit of Ron's POV wasn't really reliable. Harry also treats Mr. Weasley the same way he does with Molly.
Ron and Hermione are good friends but they aren't the same Ron and Hermione that he had known from his first life. Some bits of their pasts are different, Harry is coming to understand this.
Also! The Nachtnebel Family is still a mystery, huh? Harry or Damian himself does not know much about the family where his mother was descended from.
If you haven't figured it out, Freida, Damian's mother is a trans woman. Yes, I understand the logic seems weird but this is magic! Freida basically consumed a potion that altered her genetics to turn her into who she is.
I don't really know how to properly write trans characters. I feel like I'm gonna mess up and with the prospect of magic, I think that some people could have taken a potion and turned into the gender they choose and feel most comfortable being. Freida was like that.
Uhh... I heard from one of my friends that this concept of potions is kinda like Top Surgery for some people. It's a natural step for some people.
I might get hated on for the fact that Freida died during child birth but there is a fact that magic and potion development exist. By the time Freida drank her potion it wasn't absolutely perfect. If she got pregnant there were risks.
I'd like to explain more of this in future chapters. Preferably in Damian's backstory or in Gellert's POV.
Again, I don't really know how to write Trans characters. Please educate and help me improve. Thank you very much (・∀・)