Chapter 20.5- Doom Days

“Next up, we have Germany’s Emile Sukovsky. He mentioned having some questions about runic magic or something like that earlier, so I’ll let him ask it because most of it went completely over my head” Fudge said, gesturing to another man. This one looked about as different from the man next to him as possible. For one, his hair was blonde- high at the top and cropped short at the sides with no facial hair to speak of at all, revealing a handsome face that made him look like he was in his late twenties. Of course, this was the Wizarding World and so looks were no fair indicator of age.

“He is Germany’s Prime Minister of Magical Affairs” Fudge said, completing the introduction. I nodded at the man, as his eyes met mine. They were a bright, brilliant blue.

“Mr Potter. I did want to speak with you about the spell you used in the tournament. As you might well know, Germany has a historic connection with the runic arts so to find that you had managed to do actual magic by marrying the elder furthark line of runes with an African language of all things, let’s say we were all extremely curious. Several scholars in Germany have contributed towards a long list of questions that I am supposed to extract answers to- or else they’d bar my return” He said with a laugh. I laughed along, even if I couldn’t tell what was so funny.

“I’d be happy to discuss magic of any sort with a fellow practitioner” I told him. “It would be my pleasure”

“Yes, thank you, Mr Potter. I do hope we can get some time to ourselves once the dinner ends. Miss Delacour, a pleasure to meet you as well.” He offered Fleur a smile but I did sorely hope that the wink he tossed my way when he said the phrase, ‘time to ourselves’ did not mean what it seemed to mean, because I most assuredly did not swing that way. One-third of me was asexual, and two-thirds of me liked only women.

“Moving on, we have the severe Ian Karpov of Russia, President of the Grand Russian Republic” Fudge said, eye flicking over to mine as he said the title. Surely, he thought it was as pretentious as I did. The man who held the title, in contrast, did not seem nearly so pretentious. His face was fixed in a scowl. He had the sort of face that was used to scowling. He might have even been born with a scowl on his face. He had black robes as well, but with a fur overcoat that had to be unnecessary with the existence of warming charms. His hair was black and cut short in a buzz cut that reminded me of Krum’s. A lot of things about him reminded me of Krum, now that I thought about it. The broad nose, the flinty black eyes, the air of self-obsessed superiority, so many things.

“Mr. Potter. A pleasure to make your, how do you say, acquaintance? Anyone that can put my nephew in his place is a friend of mine” The man said in heavily accented English