Chapter Text
June 1992- Potter Manor
Hadrian stood up from his seat abruptly, whatever warmth was in his eyes a moment ago cooled into crystalline shards
His jaw was set grimly, which was the only noticeable hint of distress as he listened to Sirius.
He straightened his shoulders and kept his gaze firmly on his godfather while he processed the news. “And you thought it would be alright to keep all this from me?” His voice was whisper soft, devoid of all emotion.
“Hadrian,” Sirius blew out a tired sigh, “of course I didn’t. But you know how stubborn the old fox can be. He wouldn’t let me tell you. He forced me to swear an Oath,” he finished grimly.
A chill swept through Hadrian. He met Sirius’ gaze and both wizards shared a pained look, their minds going over the road shrouded in mist they would have to travel with uncertainty if Arcturus’ illness won.
Most would call Arcturus Sirius Black obnoxious and cruel and exceedingly proud. To Hadrian, he was his mentor, his grandfather.
Chest squeezing, he shut his eyes in an effort to halt the flood of memories he worked so hard to keep away, hidden behind impregnable Occlumency walls he spent years burnishing.
He lost Fleamont Potter too soon and no way was he ready to lose the grandfather he was given by Magic itself.
“No.’’ When he opened his eyes, they were hard but the visceral fury appeared to fade a few degrees. “We will save him. He is not allowed to leave yet.”
There was no way he would allow that. He would not lose to Death again, not in this lifetime.
“But...” Sirius whispered, his voice a rich blend of hope and astonishment.
Hadrian raised an eyebrow, waiting for Sirius to get it on his own.
The moment he did, the Marauder’s laugh cracked the air like a peal of thunder. “You—You unbelievable child.’’ Sirius sounded tremendously amused. ‘’Of course, you would usurp this chance offered by The Fates and use it.”
Hadrian folded his arms across his chest. “I had no intention of doing that. A debt with the Flames would’ve been more than enough.” He explained. “The Mirror of Erised trusted me with the Stone and at that moment, all that I wanted was to stop Voldemort from taking it. Yet, nothing happens without a reason.”
“You’re right, son,” James said as he joined them in Hadrian’s room.
The look in his eyes said he heard most of their conversation.
A sharp hush fell over them and Hadrian wondered for a moment what was his father thinking.
“Aren’t you—“ he cleared his throat, voicing his deepest fear with a defensive undertone.
James snorted. “Do I think that my son had a devious mind? Of course, I do. But I don’t mind. The truth is, I regret how brash and blind I was in my youth. Thank Merlin my actions hadn’t led to a Blood Feud or two.”
Hadrian smiled as a heavy weight was lifted from his chest.
He never planned to take this particular route, to become an unscrupulous manipulator who would do anything to reach his goals but he did not regret a thing.
It wasn’t his fault that The Fates dealt his family a heavy blow eleven years ago.
Barely the fires had died from the recent attack on his brother—had he not intervened—and now, he had to deal with Arcturus’ affliction.
James winked as he took a pile of parchment from Hadrian’s desk and dropped it in front of him. “Make sure to be as respectful as could be. Don’t forget that Nicholas Flamed is from old school. He was born like what? Six centuries ago.” The Potter Patriarch's voice dropped to a thrilled drone. Hadrian blinked at him.
“Merlin’s Beard,” Sirius snarked.
Hadrian’s mood greatly improved as he looked at the sturdy pillars in his life.
Failure was not a concern as long as he had his fathers by his side.
“Well, I guess that Hedwig will have a long flight to France. I believe she’s been bored lately,” he shrugged.
June 1992-12, Grimmauld Place
Arcturus Black closed his eyes but for a moment, then opened them when he felt the disturbance in the wards.
He was tired, much so.
“You can leave,” he ordered Healer Pilkington, the bothersome wench his grandson brought from St Mungo’s to monitor him at all times.
“No, thank you,” the witch pursued her lips and ran her wand over his chest, again.
“Why you—“ he fought to gape at her—preferably while he throttled her.
Blast Sirius and his underhanded games, he cursed inwardly wondering how he let this happen.
“I take my job very seriously, Mr Black,” Pilkington said. ‘’I won’t leave your side.” Her voice softened just the tiniest bit as she carried on with her work.
He rolled his eyes and turned his head away.
Only a few survived Dragon Pox and Arcturus had no illusions that he could surmount this hurdle.
After he lost his Melania, he gave up on life. He spent years mourning her, eager for Death to reunite him with his one true love.
Eleven years ago, however, everything changed.
He met Hadrian, his grandson, and a new purpose mended a bit of the gaping wound in his heart.
Looking into the child’s expressive eyes, he felt as if he was looking in a mirror.
He seemed too small, too innocent to feel all that despair, to have that intent.
Seeing the lines of the tears he shed in the seclusion of his room, broke away the remaining vestiges of ice around his heart.
He understood Hadrian's pain on some deeper, more familiar level. His Heir did not need to be comforted; he needed to be given all the knowledge that would help him attain his goals.
For the first time in a long time—at least the parts he could remember—Arcturus Black felt a well of burning intent.
House Black’s legacy would not be lost, not with Hadrian as Heir.
He regained his temerity and decided to mentor the child and make things right with Sirius, knowing how much he had suffered at Walburga’s cruel hands.
All at once, the pieces of Arcturus’ hollow life fit together again.
He felt more cheerful than he had in years because of a simple smile from a four-year-old.
His four-year-old grandson.
He blinked as a familiar Aura washed over him and his lips twitched with a mirthless smile.
He knew he would come.
Had known since he forbade Sirius from disturbing Hadrian’s education and ordered him to postpone telling him.
“Healer Pilkington, I insist you leave at once,” he called out breathlessly. “I have a private business to discuss with Heir Black.”
She looked tempted to disagree again but she didn’t. In fact, she scowled a little. “I’ll be back as soon as your Heir leaves. You have twenty minutes.”
Sweet Salazar! He wasn’t going to lie by and let the impossible witch boss him around like a misbehaved child.
“How—‘’ but he was interrupted as Hadrian knocked then he came inside, uninvited.
He stood in the middle of the bedroom like a carved statue of a cold warrior of old. Tall for his age and lean, dressed immaculately as he taught him, he reminded him of his youth.
Arcturus caught the dark, deadly look in his eyes as he passed the Healer on his way to take the only chair by his side.
It seemed an eternity before Hadrian sat.
“Would you leave us, please, Healer Pilkington? I won’t stay for long,” he said softly and the Healer nodded and left.
The moment she did, Hadrian’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” He asked bluntly, reminding him once again that even though he was his Heir, he was first and foremost a Potter.
Arcturus could hear the worry, the fear and the infinite love.
He tried to sit but his frail limbs failed him. “Because I did not want to trouble you. You have enough as it is.”
“Grandfather.” Hadrian closed his eyes as if he was calming himself.
His shoulders slumped a little when he opened them. “You are important. Your life is important. I’m aware that I act as if Henry’s safety is all that matters but you are family, my family as well.”
What was he about to do with this kid? Arcturus sighed with exasperation.
He tried to compose himself as was befitting his position, but his mind rebelled at the task, concentrating on the number of unsaid words and conflicting emotions instead.
“I know,” it was a bare whisper, but a confession nevertheless. “I’ve considered you mine since Sirius adopted you.”
“Then allow me to take care of you as you’ve been doing with me since I was four,” Hadrian’s words seemed like a shout of despair.
Arcturus welted against his comfy bed. “Hadrian, I know you mean well but there is no coming back from this. Believe me, I would’ve chased the cure had there been even a glimpse of hope. My affliction is merciless. It ended many a good wizard and witch before.”
He watched in bewilderment as Hadrian smiled. “So, you’re not giving up? You’re not ready to leave me?”
“Of course not,” he grumbled under his breath. “I see that your stay with dunderheads for months had addled your mind.”
Hadrian grinned and held up his hand.
Arcturus studied the pure, vibrant red stone. It shone like a fine ruby.
“This is—“ His voice came low and deep. He lifted a questioning eyebrow, waiting for an answer because he couldn’t believe that what Hadrian was holding was the fabled Philosopher Stone.
Hadrian’s smirk was like flashes from a summer day, offering no mercy from its consuming fire. “This is what you think it is, Grandfather. Voldemort took Grandfather Fleamont from me way too soon. It’s only fair he indemnifies me with this.”
Arcturus frowned in concentration. When facts clicked inside his hazy mind, he was unable to contain the bark of laughter that left his parched throat. “I taught you well, Hadrian. I taught you well.”
Hadrian agreed silently as he leaned his forehead against Arcturus' chest in a rare show of blatant affection.
“Thank you for holding on. I knew you would wait for me.”
Arcturus kept his eyes down as he swallowed thickly. “What are you waiting for? You have a letter to write.”
August 1992-Potter Manor
Though he tried mightily, Henry was unable to hide his sigh.
His mother was hovering over them like a starved Griffin making sure he was keeping up with his studies.
If anything, what happened last June cemented her conviction that he had to be more than prepared for the unsavoury surprises that might be waiting for him at Hogwarts.
“Can we at least—“ he began. He was tired and worried.
He missed Hadrian, too.
His brother was spending another week with Arcturus making sure he was recovering well.
Somehow, Harry managed to astonish everyone, again.
He asked the Flamels for repayment before returning the stone.
Mr Nicholas and Mme Perenelle seemed amused by the intrepid demand. They sent a reply asking for a fire-call.
What the Potters, and Sirius, did not expect was the ancient, jovial old wizard that popped from the fire.
He asked Hadrian to explain himself, which the latter did intently.
Nicholas’ convivial mood disappeared summarily when he learned how close he came to losing his precious stone.
Even though he had stored enough of the Elixir of Life, he was not ready to part with it yet.
As he absorbed Hadrian’s dilemma and his desperate need, to agreed to give him seven drops of the Elixir, refusing to tell them how many years it would add to Arcturus’ fading life.
Everyone was treading on air as soon as the older Black started regaining his strength.
The first thing he demanded—as soon as he left his sick bed—was to fire Healer Pilkington.
The stern witch, however, wasn’t one to cower easily. She insisted that she would monitor him closely until she deemed he didn’t need her help anymore.
“Are you done?” Lily asked sweetly, too sweetly for his liking and Henry shivered.
Ron snickered then sobered when he met her fiery glare.
“Aunt Lily seems—“ Neville hissed breathlessly.
“Shhh,” Henry chided. “Hurry up so we can—“
He pressed his lips together when Hermione nudged his side and shook her head.
His parents agreed to let him invite his friends to spend a week in Potter Manor.
Ron fell in love with the substantial gardens surrounding the main building, where they enjoyed daily flights.
Neville was enamoured of the gardens as well, but for a completely different reason.
He helped his mother take care of her exotic plants and admitted that he learned many a thing from Lady Potter.
Hermione….was Hermione.
Meeting his mother—another Muggleborn who was the brightest of her age—was like having her dearest wish come true.
In a way, Lily became her idol.
Their small chats enhanced her confidence and, sadly, pushed her to study harder so she could realize her dream and become an Unspeakable.
Henry scratched his neck as he considered the next assignment.
No one could win an argument against his mother when she was in one of her moods.
He had no choice but to comply if he wanted to enjoy a flight before sunset.
The fireplace flared and everyone looked expectantly.
Perhaps his father could save him from—
He couldn’t help but smile when Harry stepped from the fire followed by another wizard.
“Harry!” he jumped to his feet and hurtled toward his brother.
“Did you miss me, brat?” Harry smirked as he ruffled his hair, knowing how much he hated that.
“Is Arcturus fine? Are you back for good?”
Lily cleared her throat. “Henry, let you brother take a breath. Plus, we have guests.”
Henry shrugged.
He noticed the glint of mirth in Cassius Warrington’s grey eyes.
Of course, he knew him. He was what he believed was Harry’s best mate.
Like his brother, Heir Warrington was impressive.
He towered over his mother as he took her hand in his gallantly and greeted her according to the Olde Ways. “Lady Potter, I apologize for this unannounced visit. I met Hadrian by chance while I was shopping in Diagon Alley and he invited me.”
Lily smiled. “You’re always welcome here, Heir Warrington. Any friend of Hadrian is a friend of this family.”
Cassius bowed. “Thank you for your generosity, Lady Potter. Please, do call me Cassius.”
Lily’s smile widened. It seemed even his mother wasn’t immune to the sneaky bastard’s charm.
“Then I insist you call me Lily. Hadrian sang your praises more than once and I was eager to meet you.”
“I’ll make sure to visit more often then, Lily,” Cassius quipped.
“Talk about silver tongues,” Ron grumbled under his breath.
Hadrian glanced at them.
“Neville, how have you been?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” the shy boy smiled.
He had always enjoyed Harry’s company, which puzzled Henry for his brother wasn’t known for being accommodating.
“I believe you’re Mr Ronald Weasley. Welcome to our home,”
“Thank you,” Ron seemed flustered by the sudden attention.
“And you are…Miss Granger, I presume,” Hadrian said silkily before he bowed and took Hermione’s hand in his.
Henry groaned and fought the need to gauge his eyes out when his friend’s cheeks almost burst with colour.
His brother was too charming for his peace of mind.
August 1992-Greengrass Manor
Astoria Greengrass sighed again, her eyes growing soft and a dreamy smile—Daphne found so endearing—curling her pale mouth.
“Hogwarts seems so good to be real. I can’t wait for the summer to end.”
Daphne hid her grin as she brushed her sister’s long dark hair. Unlike her, she inherited their father’s colouring.
Her palm pressed reverently against Astoria’s neck, looking for her pulse.
After the months she spent enclosed with her only sibling in the Manor, tending to her and praying to Mother Magic day and night for mercy, she was grateful for the beat under her thumb.
Astoria was still frail. The illness that had plagued her for the past months had left its mark.
However, no one would suspect so while listening to the cheerful eleven-year-old.
She was so full of life, her heart brimming with billows of dreams and aspirations.
The Fates were so cruel to subject such pure soul to the Blood Curse.
How she wished she was its next target for unlike Astoria she knew she wasn’t that good. She was cold and unfeeling; she barely cared about others outside of the close-knit of her family members.
“You’re thinking too much,” Astoria rolled her eyes.
“You seem in a good mood today. Would you share what brought this?”
“I’m happy, Daph. At last, I will leave home. I love it here, truly, but I’ve seen so much of these walls I can’t take it anymore.”
Daphne gulped and ran her fingers through the silky strands. “You have to be careful at Hogwarts. The school isn’t as safe as you think,” she warned.
“I know. Unlike you, Tracy so kindly supplied me with the hottest bits,” Astoria smarted.
Daphne huffed. “She’s an incorrigible gossip. Don’t take everything she says to heart.”
“I know, but House Slytherin seems more inviting after I listened to her stories. The Court is fascinating. Plus, I won’t have to suffer from taunting and belittling if what she told me about Potter-Black and his retinue is true. Is he really that interesting? Tracy wouldn’t stop extolling him.”
For an unfathomable reason, Daphne couldn’t stop the softness from her voice. “I think that what makes Potter-Black exceptional is his devotion to his brother. He risked his life to save him which I find commendable. He’s completely unpredictable; his moods can swing from worry to an almost frenzied coldness. He can be vicious and merciless at times, but I strongly believe that House Slytherin is at the top with him as the King.”
She carried on with brushing Astoria’s hair, finding the task soothing.
She didn’t pay much attention to her sister’s reflection until the silence became too much.
She raised worried eyes to the mirror and couldn’t repress a shiver of unease at the look in the deep blue eyes.
“Wow. I think it’s the first time you praised someone other than our parents, me or probably Tracy and Blaise.”
“I—“ She forced herself to stay calm for she knew how well Astoria knew her. It was as much as she knew the teasing streak she inherited from their mother.
The abundance of caution seemed to make Astoria’s grin widen.
She turned onto her knees and pierced her with devilish eyes.
“Now, I can’t wait to meet Potter-Black,'' the brunette's voice dripped with determination staining it softness.