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Chapter Text

31 October 1981

Thunder broke the stillness of the night and with a frown, the aged wizard raised his head to study the heavy cloud formation, unconsciously brushing the greying, wild hair from his collar.

Dark, angry clouds agglomerated together in an attempt to block the moon, resulting in an endless, starless swath of black.

The wind gave sound to the eerie sight as if sensing the sky’s protests and gusty howls intermingled with low whistled moans.

It was Samhain indeed…

His mind reviewed the strategy he would employ to gain victory and save his grandsons while he closed the windows.

His son and daughter-in-law left an hour ago for an urgent meeting and he couldn’t be more thankful.

Rage filled him anew as he thought about the bastard, nestled within the Order of The Phoenix’ ranks, who betrayed his best friends, but he pushed the anger aside.

He would have his vengeance after he was done with his duty. Only then, he would allow his rage to go unchecked.

Only then he would kill the traitor.

If he didn’t survive the night, he would haunt the rat for all eternity for he knew that the truth would be revealed no matter how much time it might take.

The Potter Battle Magic simmered under his skin, answering its Lord's call and looking for an outlet.

His Yew and Griffin Heartstring wand burned in his palm eager to face and hopefully end the monster who threatened his grandsons, his blood, his legacy.

James and Lily were attending another Order meeting and the responsibility of defending his family fell on his shoulders.

It was his duty, his privilege and he wouldn’t deny Hadrian and Henry a thing, his life included.

The wards wavered again. It seemed that the bastard was working his way inside stealthily, like the slimy earthworm he was.

Fleamont knew that the toughest fight of his life was about to start. He was a Potter and Potters were very, very old friends with the battlefield.

They were Death’s most avid friends, too. He was their beginning and their end. Every Potter would embrace Death like an old friend when their time came.

Lord Fleamont Henry Potter regretted being denied the chance of guiding his son diligently.

James was still but a young man, and Lily despite her astounding qualities, wasn’t too well-versed in the different intricacies of their culture.

Fleamont took one last look at Hadrian and his heart clenched with sadness.

He was about to leave the Potter future in the tiny hands of his beloved grandchild and despite the bond he forged four years ago with his first grandson, remorse and sorrow filled him for departing too soon.

Hadrian was, beyond a shadow of doubt, the future of the Potters.

Dumbledore could talk all that he wanted about the child born ‘when the seventh month ends’, about Henry being Voldemort’s target and the Chosen One but Hadrian was the key.

The Potter Magic never lied to him and he wasn’t about to doubt it when he was taking his last breaths.

He glanced down at the sleeping little Heir, at the silky, inky hair courtesy of the Godfather Blood Bond that linked him evermore to Sirius Orion Black.

He remembered his jewel-like eyes looking at him with heartbreaking adoration and forced himself to confront the thought that horrified him even though he tried to lie to himself, the thought of leaving Hadrian alone.

Bitterness disintegrated on his tongue and he swallowed it forcibly.

He had always lived fearlessly, taking risks and doing whatever he pleased like every Potter before him, and he would not regret trampling through life like a conquering army now.

Fleamont smiled ruefully and drew his fingertips idly through the dark hair. He traced the high cheekbones and his lips lifted when Hadrian’s eyes twitched.

Dark, foul magic filled the air and Fleamont knew he had to leave.

“Always remember, family is everything. Always remember, Natus Vincere. Farewell, blood of my blood,” Fleamont breathed hoarsely.

Gently, the closed the door and walked with quick, long strides until he reached the end of the corridor.

He stepped into the nursery and methodically reviewed the Runes he drew with his blood half an hour ago.

He was aware that James and Lily would never agree to such Dark Ritual, but they weren’t there to object and he wouldn’t listen anyway.

He was Lord Fleamont Henry Potter and it was his responsibility to protect his family, the means to that were but a trivial concern of his.

Hopefully James and Lily would learn that precious lesson soon for he knew that the war was going to be a long and strenuous one.

A scowl divided his forehead into a ladder of ridges when the Ward Stone howled at the intrusion, tugging at his core and asking for help.

He should never have listened to Dumbledore and added the Fidelius. It nullified the blood wards’ powers and ruined the hard-earned reputation of the unbreakable Potter wards.

Behind him, two house elves popped in, their eyes narrowed.

“Master Fleamont, Ezio is sensing danger and bad magic,” his personal elf pointed out, waiting for his master to give his command.

“Belen senses the foul magic too. What does Master Fleamont wants Ezio and Belen to do?” the younger elf asked eagerly, no wonder itching to help and protect.

Fleamont gazed at his two faithful elves lovingly. They were his lifetime companions, they served him and his beloved Euphemia ardently however, it seemed that their journey together was at its end.

“I believe this is the time I say so long, my friends. You were the best elves a wizard could ask for. All I request is that you take care of my blood like you always did with me and Euphemia. But most importantly, make sure that Hadrian fares well.”

Ezio’s dark green eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest. Fleamont raised his hand and shook his head.

“I’m going to fight Voldemort and I doubt I’ll survive a duel with him. If it goes wrong, take the boys away to Sirius’ house. Remember under no circumstances may you call for James and Lily, they’re not equipped for the kind of magic Voldemort uses. Also, let him get into Henry’s room but stay vigilant at all times. If my research is true, the ritual might just end his miserable existence for good.”

Belen looked at his Senior and the words died on his lips when Ezio’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

Fleamont put his hands over his elves’ heads and let his magic bless them one last time.

“You’re to protect the Potters as your ancestors did since the time of Godric Gryffindor. You are bound to us like we are bound to you. My son might be brash and foolish at times, but he has a good heart. Watch over him and his family my little friends and remember, Death shall have no dominion over the Potters; he’s but our oldest friend. Protect Hadrian Ezio, he shall face tough times, but he’s our future.”

Ezio and Belen nodded, silent tears running down their cheeks. Ezio was the first to wash them away and stand tall and proud.

“You have our word, Master Fleamont. Ezio and Belen will do as you ask.”

Ezio and Belen bowed one last time and disappeared.

Fleamont turned his attention to the door and smirked when the sky exploded in a silver flash of light.

The Potter Magic cloaked him, eager for the looming collision, and armored with it, he went down to face Voldemort.

Emerald green eyes snapped open when a loud crash reached his ears.

Hadrian jumped to his feet and run to the door in haste. Doubling his speed, he headed toward Henry’s room and gasped when he stepped inside.

Henry was crying his eyes out, his face turning blue while a rivulet of blood slid down his right cheek from a strange gush on his forehead.

As if sensing his brother’s presence, Henry began to emit some distressed hiccups and opened his hazel eyes.

“Hawy!” he stretched his small arms and Hadrian picked him up from the crib and kissed the crown of his head.

“Shhh, Harry is here.”

His sharp eyes studied the room and a chills crept down his back when he noticed a handful of ashes, some black robes, and a wand scattered around.

Of course he knew that something odd was going on. His father refused to let them leave the manor and his mother looked worried most of the time.

Even his grandfather’s smiles seemed strained and forced.

Sirius visited more frequently and didn’t play with him or transform into the big black dog he enjoyed riding for hours.

Henry leaned his head over his shoulder and clenched his shirt tightly.

“Hut…Henny hut…”

Hadrian tried to clean the blood with his sleeves, but it didn’t go away entirely.

“Ezio!” he called for the house elf and was startled when he popped in more loudly than usual.

“Master Hadrian called for Ezio,’’ the house elf’s voice was low and hoarse but he didn’t dawdle on the reason. Henry was always more important.

“Henry hurt,” he cried hurriedly, shaken by his little brother’s anguish.

Ezio swallowed thickly and nodded. ‘’Ezio will take care of Master Henry. Give him to me, Master Hadrian.”

With manifest reluctance, Hadrian handed his baby brother over to Ezio.

His Grandpa instilled in him the importance of trusting the family house elves and treating them kindly and Grandpa was never wrong.

His Grandpa was—

Hadrian froze and his lips trembled as he asked Ezio. “Ezio, Grandpa!” he howled, a searing pain finding home in his core and sinking him in boatloads of agony.

Ezio flinched and bowed his head.

“Nooooo!”

Hadrian bolted down the stairs, his short legs failing his need for more speed.

“Nooooo!” he screamed again when he beheld the sight of Belen kneeling beside the still form of his grandfather.

“Grandpa! Is me, Harry! Grandpa! No!” Hadrian howled brokenly and his shaking knees stopped working.

He crawled to Fleamont’s body and shook him vehemently.

“Master Hadrian,” Belen begged in a rough voice, ‘’Master Fleamont is no more. He joined his forbearers.”

Hadrian swiped his head right and left, his small face drenched in tears and snot.

“No! No! You lie!”

A small hand landed over his right shoulder and Ezio whispered from behind. “Master Fleamont loved Master Hadrian so much. Master Fleamont will always be with Master. He says Master Hadrian must never forget, family is everything,” sadness underlined every word and Hadrian clamped his lips together.

“Famiwy!” A newly cleaned and bandaged Henry whispered as he gripped a lock of his hair.

Hadrian nodded his consent numbly and Ezio bowed.

He reached out his hands, asking for the comfort of holding his brother.

Ezio complied and Henry locked his arms behind his neck, trying to pull him closer. His lids slid down with drowsiness and he was asleep in a heartbeat.

His brother’s sweet, warm breath against his earlobe felt like a gentle stroke and he pulled him closer.

His eyes caught on something and not one to dither, the four-year-old Potter-Black Heir plucked his grandfather’s wand.

He winced when something tugged at his heart, unprepared for the peculiar feeling.

He buried his face in Henry’s hair and clenched his eyes shut, trying and failing to smother his sobs.

‘’Harry! Henry!” his mother’s frenzied cry disconcerted the eerie silence in the room and Hadrian raised his head.

“Mum!”

His father and Sirius hesitated at the threshold, their eyes darting between him and the unmoving body of his grandfather.

Lily covered her mouth with a shaking hand as she darted toward them. She hugged her kids, almost crushing their little bones, but Hadrian didn’t mind.

“Father...’’ James sounded as if he just ran a great distance and Sirius held his arm to steady him.

“Prongs, he’s gone. You should be proud of him. He fulfilled his duty and died like every true Potter, on the battlefield.”

James covered his face and slumped against his best friend.

The gentle hug of his mother made Hadrian feel warm and safe.

He opened his eyes and looked at his grandfather’s peaceful face.

He pushed a tear away from his temple and a new sense of resignation nudged itself inside his young heart.

He loved his grandfather.

He would always remember his last words. ‘Family is everything.’

Chapter Text

31 October 1981

James Fleamont Potter considered his sleeping sons and his stomach seemed to twist into knots as he worried over what course of action to take.

Keeping Henry safe was the most important issue. If any of the Death Eaters who managed to flee learned of a way to get to him, he didn’t want to imagine what would happen to the toddler.

According to Amelia Bones, they caught most of them. But he couldn’t take any risks, not at the cost of his family’s safety. He didn’t have a choice.

He lost his father and he was not ready to sacrifice more for the war.

His father…

James swallowed the lump in his throat and came to a swaying stop directly in front of Harry’s bed. On impulse, he reached his hand and straightened the blanket.

Henry refused to leave his brother’s arms and didn’t stop fussing until they agreed to let them spend the night together.

His stomach lurched and he shook his head in a bid to clear his mind.

Dumbledore’s words reverberated in his mind and he didn’t know what to make of them.

Henry was The Boy Who Loved, The Chosen One, and according to the Headmaster, Voldemort wasn’t gone yet.

He would come back and seek revenge on his youngest.

But what was he going to do with Harry?

His helplessness infuriated him and he wasn’t above begging the Deities for some help.

Harry -Hadrian- was his eldest, his Heir, his favourite. However, he didn’t know how to protect Henry without making him feel ignored or worse yet, jealous.

His stomach became queasy at the thought of Harry resenting him or Lily.

He remembered the night he held him in his arms for the first time four years ago. He was so tiny, his pale skin contrasting beautifully with his inky hair.

The moment he opened his green eyes and stared at him, he couldn’t help but lose his heart forever to his firstborn.

To harm the Father-Son bond he shared with Harry was his worst nightmare; one he could never accept, Dumbledore be damned.

With a shaking hand, he brushed the hair from his forehead and sighed. He forced himself to block all thoughts, all worries. In his heart, he knew that the future was uncertain, but he couldn’t shake off the trepidation filling him.

He stared for a long moment at Henry as he coiled himself into Harry’s arms and a wistful ache gathered in his chest.

Sirius suddenly appeared at his side. The look on his face made his breath catch in the back of his throat. He looked bloody furious.

“What’s the matter, Padfoot?” he asked alarmed.

“We need to talk, now,” his voice was low and controlled and James understood that he was raving mad.

Sirius motioned for him to follow and stalked toward the door. James was more confused by his attitude than surprised. He noticed his clenched jaw.

That was a bad sign.

Holding his ground, he glanced at his sleeping sons one last time and followed his best friend down.

What he didn’t notice were the sharp green eyes trailing his retreat.

Sirius Orion Black was blinded by rage.

At first, he was confused and his addled mind barely sorted through the words he heard.

That fateful night, he didn’t merely lose his surrogate father, the one who embraced him in his time of need and shielded him from his mother’s madness.

That night, he lost a piece of his soul. He lost faith in goodness, in friendship and in trust.

Not only did Peter Pettigrew betray his friends, but he also caused the death of Lord Potter and all that unforgivable crime trod on its heels.

Dumbledore declared Henry The Boy Who Lived, the Vanquisher of Voldemort and while they mourned the loss of a great man, Wizarding Britain celebrated the end of the nightmare.

He has never trusted Dumbledore, not really. Despite being sorted into Gryffindor, Sirius was a Black and distrust was ingrained in him since he was a child.

He never believed in embellished words nor did he pin his faith in politicians.

Dumbledore might be a good man -or as good as could be. Yet Sirius understood the man’s burden. He was the past Savior, the Vanquisher of Grindelwald thus, numerous lives depended on his choices.

Dumbledore would always work for the greater good, notwithstanding the price that must be paid.

This brought him to the reason behind his anger.

“What are you planning for Harry?” he demanded, his eyes narrowed on his brother in all that mattered.

“Sirius!” Lily breathed in a desperate voice.

“Lily, please. Let’s sort this out now,” he said, his voice laced with steel.

“Sirius, this is not the right—” Remus pleaded but he ignored his friend and stared at James.

The latter seemed not to have any idea what he meant by the question. He could see the confusion in his eyes and he closed his own and counted to ten.

“James—Prongs, I was there when Dumbledore declared Henry the Saviour, disregarding Harry’s existence. I’m worried that fame and what your son’s new title entails will damage my son,” he stated, deciding not to beat around the bush.

With a cry of rage and terror, James lunged at him and held his upper arm in a viselike grip.

“He’s my son, mine! How dare you accuse me of planning something so despicable?”

“James!” Lily let out a loud gasp.

Sirius didn’t concede. He shook his head and looked into James’ hazel eyes, eyes that were filled with so much pain and confusion.

“He’s my son, too. You made him mine the day you agreed to let me perform the Blood Ritual. I have to make sure that he’ll be safe at all times and I’m not talking about physical harm,”

“Do not tell me my responsibilities. I know them,” James barked.

Sirius took a step closer and put his hands over his friend’s shoulders. “I know,” his voice gentled as he added.

He wanted to believe his friends; he desperately needed to believe them. While his trust was shattered a few hours ago, Sirius still believed in James and Lily.

“I don’t want him to face what I—when Walburga—“ his voice was hoarse with agony and James shoved him against his chest.

“Never! This is me Padfoot; James your best mate,”

Sirius nodded and returned the hug.

“I’m sorry, Prongs. But let me tell you this: if by any chance I notice something, I will interfere. I won’t let Harry be harmed. He’s my son.”

His stormy-grey eyes sought Lily and she gave him a teary smile then nodded.

James had listened to him and pushed his accusations aside, yet Sirius wouldn’t stop worrying.

Something wouldn’t stop nagging him since Dumbledore left and if what he feared came into being, he would take matters into his own hands.

Hadrian Potter Black was his son and no one could tell him otherwise.

31 July 1983

Obeying his mother’s prompting and fearing disappointing Henry on his important day, Hadrian left the serene view of the gardens and joined the guests in the ballroom.

He stood still as he studied the vast room and could hardly believe his eyes.

A twinge of annoyance spread over his chest as he beheld faces he had never seen before.

Last year, still fearing for the family’s safety, his father decided to forgo celebrating their birthdays. They decided to keep the affair small and only Sirius, Remus and the Longbottoms attended the small party.

This year, however—

It was overwhelming.

He swallowed the bit of bitterness in his mouth and let his eyes roam the place.

The party was in full swing and the gilded chandeliers cast a soft light over the expensive artwork and the marble floor. He slowly made his way through the crowds searching for his brother.

He tried to blend in and thankfully, no one paid him any attention.

Uncertainty rioted in his chest when he came across his parents flanking Henry, waiting for him to make a wish and cut the cake.

‘They were waiting for you,’ he told himself, ‘Enzo and Belen were probably busy, that was why they didn’t call for you. Despite Dad ordering them to do so.’

Henry grinned when he noticed him and shouted. “Hawy!’’

Hadrian rushed to his brother’s side and put an arm over his shoulders. “Happy birthday, Henry.”

“Bidday!” Henry’s smile must have hurt his cheeks and his pudgy hand clutched his robes and wouldn’t let go.

“Where have you been Harry?” James asked gently.

“I—I was in the garden,” he lowered his head.

“James, you know that Harry doesn’t appreciate boisterous crowds. Come, my baby. Let’s do this together,” his mother ran her fingers through his hair and he nodded.

Sirius clapped his hands. “Right, now let’s get to the presents,’’ he winked and Henry’s eyes widened.

“Sirius, are you sure they’re—“ Frank Longbottom asked wearily and Sirius cleared his throat.

“They’re safe, I checked everything twice.”

“Good,” Frank sighed.

“Hawy, Pwesent?” Henry tugged at his robes and he took his hand, steering him toward the mountain of beautifully wrapped gifts.

His parents exchanged a worried glance, and like every time, he pretended he didn’t notice.

He stood by his brother’s side as he went through the gifts and his mind drifted to all that occurred since the night his grandfather died.

His family was slow to recover from the loss. He spent nights laying on top of the covers and looking at the ceiling as he cried himself to sleep.

Nightmares permeated Henry’s nights and more than often, he joined him clinging to his chest.

His parents sneaked into his room while he pretended to be asleep and he caught bits of their talks.

He knew that they loved him, as much as they loved Henry. However, it hurt how distraught they seemed most of the time.

His mother wouldn’t stop fearing retribution and his father worried about Voldemort’s return.

Yes, he knew that the monster who killed his Grandpa and tore his family apart was called Voldemort like he knew that one day, he would come back.

“Hawy!” Henry asked for his attention again and he started helping him sort out the presents.

His father joined them. He ruffled his hair, earning himself a frustrated groan.

“Aw, are you already obsessed with your hair, Harrikens? Please, don’t tell me that you plan to grow it out like Padfoot,” his father teased.

“Ew,” Hadrian scrunched his nose and James snorted.

“Good boy,” James chuckled then added in a low voice, ‘’you can take whatever you want, Henry is still too young to know how to handle most of this stuff.”

Hadrian shook his head at his father’s offer. He knew that Henry wouldn’t mind. But it would feel better if he taught him how to use the toys instead.

“Hawy!” Henry screeched, startling him.

He squirmed when Henry held the box he purchased for him, with Sirius’ help, a few days ago.

“Did you buy this for him?” James remarked happily.

“Yes. Sirius helped me pick up an appropriate gift for Henry’s third birthday,” Hadrian looked up at his father, his cheeks red with mortification.

James bent and kissed his forehead. “You’re a good brother, Harry. The best. Henry is lucky to have you.”

Hadrian smiled and James tilted his head, looking at the simple red box. “Would you help him wear it?”

Hadrian gasped. “But how did you know that I chose jewelry?”

James winked. “Because I know that you want to give your brother something special; something that would always remind him of you. You may think otherwise, but we’re so alike Harry. I used to pick up jewelry for Sirius’ birthdays.”

Hadrian realized that Henry was looking at him with starry eyes. Carefully, he lifted the upper lid and took out the thin silver chain.

Henry’s eyes shone with wonder when he noticed the small ruby dangling from the chain.

He wouldn’t tell his parents about the drop of blood forever encased in the stone’s heart. Sirius had warned him about mentioning it.

As Henry’s birthday approached, he asked for his godfather’s help.

He wanted something different, something—meaningful that would make Henry always remember his brother.

Sirius took him to an Enchanter shop and there, his eyes were rooted on the small pendant.

The Enchanter explained that if he would offer a drop of his blood, whoever would wear the chain, would always feel his magic, his love.

Hadrian didn’t dwindle. He extended his hand asking the Enchanter to take whatever he needed.

Despite being awfully young, he was attentive to everything going on with his family.

He knew that his parents needed to concentrate on Henry. He was Wizarding Britain’s Saviour and one day, the monster would come back and he would have to face him again.

Furthermore, he understood that he was holding two future Heirships and as Heir Black, he had duties toward his second family, toward his second father.

Ezio and Belen started teaching him the Potter traditions. They instilled in him the necessity of adhering to the Olde Ways; the ways his Grandpa lived by till he took his last breath. They were the sacred laws set by Mother Magic.

His family needed him and his brother needed him.

But House Black needed him, too.

Slowly, he put the chain around Henry’s neck and the smile he was gifted by his brother was blinding.

“Pwetty!” Henry gushed, two blotches of red adorning his cheeks.

“You have a good taste, son. I believe you inherited it from me,” James puffed up his chest and Hadrian giggled at his father’s antics.

“Stop joking around, James. Of course, he inherited his good taste from me,” Lily interjected as she joined the small party, ‘’it’s so beautiful indeed.”

Her eyes widened when she touched the pendant and frowned in concentration. Then she gave him a secret wink.

Hadrian bit his lower lip and shrugged.

Chapter Text

1 August 1984

When Hadrian followed his parents, Henry, Sirius and Remus to the drawing room, he was barely able to drag his feet down the stairs.

Ezio kept glancing at him worriedly, while Belen wouldn’t stop glaring at Sirius. 

He stared morosely at the twenty-something assorted gifts, no wonder courtesy of his parents, godfather, Remus and the Longbottoms, and sighed.

It was nothing compared to what Henry received for his fourth birthday yesterday, but it was offered with love and he appreciated it.

He knew that every present was picked with the utmost care, with him in mind, and couldn’t wait to unravel the prettily-wrapped boxes.

However…

He was tired and could barely stand on his feet. He looked ghastly, his complexion pallid and damp and according to what he learned from his Heir lessons, the separation he dreaded was upon him.

“Harry, you—‘’ Lily Potter gasped taken aback when he held to her arm to avoid falling.

She placed an arm over his shaking shoulders and leaned down, kissing the crown of his head.

“Is something ailing you, my dear? Do you want me to take you to a Healer?” she asked worriedly, her emerald-green eyes filled with apprehension as they scrutinized his face.

He gave her a bleary glance, his green eyes missing their liveliness. “I’m fine, Mum. I’m merely tired,” he tried to placate his mother, hating seeing the concern in her eyes. 

Hadrian looked down at his hands loathingly, then shook his head and smiled widely.

Sitting next to Sirius, he kept the fake smile plastered on his face as he eyed the feast.

He drowned a wince in his goblet of water and winked to Henry—who seemed excited at the prospect of another birthday party.

“Harry! Hurry up!” The four-year-old chirped excitedly, looking forward to the task of going through the presents.

“Let’s enjoy our meal first, son,” James said tersely.

“James,” Remus took a swallow of his rare steak and kidney pie. “Please.”

“I know,” James turned his attention to his plate,

“But—‘’

“No buts,” Lily dropped back to her chair. “Let’s give Harry the seventh birthday he deserves and then…” she hesitated and Harry understood the reason behind her reluctance.

“Thank you, Mum. Everything is great,” Hadrian offered wanly.

“Very well,’’ James tensed, his throat closing against a growl.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, Hadrian watched the interactions between his family members.

His father’s grip tightened on his fork. His mother kept stealing glances at him, while Remus seemed uncomfortable.

Harry squirmed, seeking a more comfortable position and stilled when Sirius laid a hand over his back. He leaned unconsciously and forced himself to stay awake.

A strange sound left James’ throat but a meaningful look from his mother made him drop his gaze.

“Harry is sleepyhead!” Henry giggled and Harry nodded. Sirius raked a hand through his hair and gave him an encouraging grin.

Belen finally brought the birthday cake, a Red Velvet seven-layer cake, his favourite.

“Thank you, Belen,” Hadrian thanked the house elf. The latter bowed respectfully and popped away.

“I want cake!” Henry demanded losing his patience when everyone remained stiff and silent.

“Harry, would you do the honours?” Lily urged him to take the silver knife, embellished with the Potter emblem, and he acquiesced.

He cut a small piece and Henry clapped his hands enthusiastically. Hadrian’s lips twitched despite the weariness overwhelming him.

He sliced through the frosting. Henry’s face shone with anticipation as he eyed the cream cheese and butter he loved so much and Hadrian chuckled.

Henry opened his mouth wide while he accepted his brother’s offering and his lips lifted in delight as he savoured the heavenly taste.

“Again!” he gave him his famous puppy eyes.

“Henry, you can’t have all the frosting. You’ll ruin Harry’s birthday cake,” Lily chided gently.

“But it’s yummy,” Henry pouted looking at his brother for help.

“Later,” Hadrian mouthed soundlessly and Henry’s hazel eyes widened. He looked at his mother, then giggled, clamping a hand over his mouth to conceal the sound.

“Henry,” Lily said with exasperation.

“Let him be, Lils. It’s not every day that we celebrate our boys’ birthdays,” James said. He patted his wife’s shoulder and she sighed.

“But he’ll get sick,” Lily contradicted, and everyone discerned the flare of her legendary temper.

“I—Henry will be f-fine, I guess” James treaded carefully and everyone burst out laughing, even Lily.

Hadrian basked in the lightened mood and sought to take advantage of the jovial ambience.

Stealthily, he slipped his hand into his pocket and fondled his grandfather’s wand.

He had an inkling that James knew about him keeping it always on him since that night.

If he did, he never mentioned it. 

Lord Fleamont Henry Potter’s wand wasn’t returned to the family vault to join its brothers like custom predicted. Hadrian bonded with it the night his grandfather was murdered by Voldemort.

Yew— the wood dreaded by most wizards as it symbolized Death and Resurrection, felt strangely warm in his hand while the Griffin Heartstring that denoted the Potters’ strength, courage and ability to lead made his blood sing with an inextinguishable fire.

According to the Wandlore books he skimmed through looking for answers, his grandfather’s wand was considered strange by Wiccan standards. It belonged originally to Linfred of Stinchcombe, the founding patriarch of their family then was kept for centuries in the Family vault with its brothers.

When Fleamont struggled to find a match, Lord Henry Hardwin Potter the II took him to Gringotts hoping to find an answer in his ancestors’ legacy. The wand was the only one that answered to Flemaont’s magic.

It wasn’t a perfect match, not in the beginning at least. As the war with Grindelwald raged and the previous Lord Potter recognized the pressing need to shed his Potioneer robes and protect his family, the Potter Magic answered his call and after a long wait, he cemented the ultimate bond with the wand.

It was the day the dexterous duelist took the place of the business tycoon and Magical Britain sang his victories for years.

Ultimately, Dumbledore managed to subdue Grindelwald in the famous duel, however, Lord Fleamont Henry Potter was declared one of the most accomplished duelists Britain had ever birthed.

His grandfather refused all the offered congratulations and Titles. He considered it his job to see to his family’s safety, not to mention that of Magical Britain.

He resumed his life as if nothing happened and divided his time between taking care of the Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion company, the Wizengamot and enjoying his free time with his late grandmother.

Hadrian has always been fascinated by the wand, even before he understood what it symbolized and how invaluable it was to his family.

The wand had a way about it that pulled at his core, beckoned him and overwhelmed his magic.

That night, he couldn’t ignore the urge anymore.

He took it intending to avenge its previous Master and it seemed that the wand was eager to accomplish the mission.

Ezio and Belen affirmed his suspicions years later when he started taking his Heir Lessons seriously.

The wand chose him and no one could separate them. He still sensed his grandfather’s magic woven into the core, with that of Linfred of Stinchcombre, and he intended to become strong enough and make it accept his magic as well; forever linked to that of his honourable ancestors.

“Are you feeling better now?” Sirius murmured under his breath, and Hadrian recognized what his second father was doing.

“Yes,” Hadrian answered. “I can…feel it.”

“Harry...” James stood abruptly, walked over to him and leaned over his eldest.

Gently, he grasped his face between his hands and Hadrian read the pain, the remorse, the pride and the awe in his hazel eyes.

He caressed his hair softly as if he was worshipping a Deity at an Old Temple, and said.

“I’m proud of you, son. When we agreed to the Blood Bond, I never predicted that the Black Magic will be so eager to have you. I know that you have to leave for a while and it saddens me to spend a night without you under the same roof. But—“ James swallowed thickly and Hadrian blinked to chase away the tears that wanted to slide down his cheeks.

“You’re my eldest, my blood and my legacy. The Black Magic can try to steal you all it wants, but you’ll remain my son and today, I pronounce you my Heir.”

James took a deep breath and calmness seemed to settle over his features as he produced the Heir Ring from his pocket.

“Wow! It’s glowing!” Henry gasped with awe. 

Hadrian swallowed a whimper. He wanted his father to gather him in his arms, to hold him and offer comfort, but he sensed he could not offer his compassion without breaking down and losing the last shreds of his shattered composure.

His parents have not said the words, yet Hadrian knew that they were barely managing not to crumble down.

He looked at his father, really looked at him and saw all the love in his eyes.

Many perceived James Potter as a brash and cocky Gryffindor who seldom thought before acting. He was renowned for his blithe disregard for the rules and his loyalty toward those he considered family.

What the Magical World has never seen was James Potter; the son who fell to pieces the night his father was murdered.

James Potter; the father who threw away his future with Puddlemere United as their star chaser and joined the aurors to protect his family.

James Potter; the indulged wizard who took the mantle of Lord Potter, even begrudgingly, and pledged his voice and his power to Magical Britain.

It was the only James Potter Hadrian knew: his father, his mentor and his role model.

The Black Magic was vicious and merciless but Hadrian understood that Sirius gave him his blood with love, named him a son with love and with love, he would honour his second family.

Hadrian shook his head, his awestruck gaze glued to the ring arrayed in his family’s history.

Two Griffins were holding what seemed like a triangle enclosing a circle and a vertical line. The Griffins’ eyes were two blood-red rubies: the Potters’ colours.

“Dad…” Hadrian glanced at his father cautiously and James gave him a slight nod to confirm that he was ready for this moment.

Twin tears were sliding down his mother’s cheek as she held Henry to her chest, while Remus’ eyes shone amber, attesting to how emotional he was.

Sirius kept rubbing his back and offering all the support he needed without him asking.

With reverence, he took the ring and turned it from side to side mesmerized by the two guardian Griffins.

Ambient light stuck the stones and cool red flashes came from their depths.

James stared at him without blinking. “It’s curious how Lord Linfred opted to have two Griffins while the Potters never had two sons at once. You and Henry are the exception.”

Hadrian’s eyes widened and he twirled looking at his brother. Henry tilted his head questioningly. 

He strained a glance over his shoulder at Sirius who nodded encouragingly.

Everyone’s eyes crinkled with delight when he finally slipped the ring onto his fourth finger. 

Hadrian’s knees buckled and he was thankful that he wasn’t standing, otherwise, he would’ve crashed under the overwhelming weight of the violent strokes and tugs of the magic that pounded on his core.

He squeezed his eyes shut and took rugged breaths.

“Harry!” Henry shouted with alarm.

“Shhh. He’s fine, my darling. The Heir Ring is judging his worth,” Lily explained pragmatically.

“But Harry is the best!” Henry expressed his disapproval vehemently and if not for his trial, Hadrian would’ve laughed.

Henry was the best brother.

James gave him a glance of mingled chagrin and pride and he bit his lower lip and nodded.

His hand clutched his father’s offered arm as the last of the tremors left him.

The assessment was over and the ring settled on his finger as if it was always meant to bet here.

“Congratulations, Heir Potter,” James kissed his forehead, his voice hoarse.

“Thank you Dad, for everything,” Hadrian answered.

Everything surrounding him seemed blurry all of a sudden and not able to fight the drowsiness anymore, he gave up the struggle to stay awake.

The last thing he heard before darkness greeted him was Henry’s cry.

Lord Sirius Orion Black hugged his Heir more tightly to his chest as Kreacher greeted them at the entrance.

He led them along the long hallway until they reached a suite of rooms, the Heir Rooms.

The air was spiced faintly with gardenia and jasmine. The hearth had been lit despite the mild weather and the sheets were brand new.

The Black emblem was stitched in silver thread and Sirius’ eyes went over the Ancient Runes embellishing the elegant swath of black silk. Everything screamed money, power and high quality. It was  expected considering the family he and his son belonged to.

The dutiful Black house elf bowed and informed him. “Master is waiting for you in the office.”

Sirius nodded and tilted his head, urging Kreacher to give him some time alone with Hadrian.

Slowly, as not to alert his charge he took a seat against the headboard and closed his eyes, basking in the warmth Hadrian offered unconsciously.

It was never his intention to take Hadrian away from his family and separate the two brothers, even for a while, but the Black Magic was not known for its pliancy.

When he offered the Blood Bond seven years ago, he did it out of love.

The moment he took Hadrian in his arms for the first time, he lost his heart to the newborn and his magic demanded him—called him theirs.

Being his brother in all that mattered, James agreed and the ritual was done.

Lord Fleamont, James and Lily were happy to know that their eldest would have another father to protect him—and the Potter family— if everything went from bad to worse and Sirius finally secured an Heir to his family.

Despite how much he loathed his mother, he could never turn his back on the family.

Family was everything.

After he lost his father, then Regulus, Sirius understood that it was time to stop pretending and act like a respectable wizard, act like Lord Black.

Lord Arcturus Sirius Black never agreed to Walburga blasting his name off the tapestry. He was the Heir in blood and magic.

Sirius knew that he could never have a child of his own, his family's inbreeding plus the trauma he suffered as a child made that dream impossible.

Even his Hogwarts exploits were but a myth he created in a bid to hide the truth.

He felt no sexual attraction to others whatsoever, felt no need to share himself with another. He tried several times but the experience left him hollow and empty inside.

He was broken, Walburga had made sure of that. However, like every Black he was resilient and his cold heart brimmed with billows of love and loyalty he directed toward those he considered deserving.

He would never have a child of his flesh, but he didn’t need to.

Hadrian was his child and as he sniffed his seventh candle, the Black Magic demanded him.

A few days ago, Hadrian started showing signs of magical deprivation. Sirius tried to deny what he knew was happening but as the child’s condition worsened he understood that there was no second option.

Hadrian needed to spend some time in the Black stronghold where the Black magic would heal him.

The seventh birthday was crucial for every wizard and witch. It was the age they underwent the Ring Trial, and if they failed, they would try again seven years later.

It was also the age the magical affinity started showing. The Potters were inherently Grey. They birthed many a Battle Mage and illustrious Duellist.

The Black Magic, however, was Sentient. It was vicious and judgmental and merciless. No one could own the Black Magic, it owned whomever it deemed worthy instead and took them unapologetically.

It was obdurate and enticing and it was…extremely Dark.

The myths and stories involving his family's past were but a drop in the ocean.

Perceiving the problem, Sirius asked James and Lily for an urgent meeting and confessed the truth. He feared an explosion or some punches, yet James merely looked at him with angry and resentful eyes.

The jealousy stabbed him like a driven nail but he understood his brother’s dilemma.

He was about to steal years James could spend with his son, years he could hug him at night and raise him according to the Potter values.

Hadrian could always visit, and so could the Potters. He, however, could not stay in Potter Manor for long periods of time until the Black Magic healed him completely.

Sirius glared at the window, hating what he brought upon his beloved son.

He stared down then without blinking, hungrily devouring the aristocratic features of his Heir.

He could already see the Black infamous traits in his bone structure and silky hair.

Carefully, he stood and made sure that Hadrian was comfortable. He ran a hand through the ebony locks and felt the magic that linked them buzz with warmth and love.

He drew the curtains over the windows, casting the room in soft shadows and stared at the cackling dancing flames trying to regain his composure.

The house’s magic was singing with delight, welcoming the long-awaited Heir and Sirius had learned a great deal about the importance of supplying a wizard’s core with the family magic.

He took an uneasy breath and apparated to his next destination.

He knew that he couldn’t keep him waiting any longer; the old fox wasn’t renowned for his patience.

“Godric’s flaming ballocks,” he murmured under his breath as he beheld the sight of his grandfather sipping his tea serenely.

Arcturus Black lifted an eyebrow and skewered him with a piercing grey gaze. “I don’t believe that your Godric was that great,” he drawled lazily.

“Why are you back?” Sirius took a seat and sighed.

Arcturus pulled out a drawer and withdrew a thick book. 

Sirius winced when he recognized it. “Surely you’re not—“

Arcturus’ smile was feral as he patted the book.

“My retirement is over, son. I lost all feelings and incentive the day I buried my Melania. I’m a dying man, but before I join my beloved there’s one last thing for me to do. I’ll train the Black Heir like I trained you and pay my debt to Fleamont for taking care of you. Hadrian isn’t yours anymore, he’s ours. He’s the future of House Black.”

Chapter Text

30 July 1987

Oblivious to the sweat drenching his duelling robes, Hadrian Potter-Black's eyes remained on the layout of Arcturus’ wand movement. 

Again impressed by the subtlety and mastery of his mentor, his mind could make little order out of what he saw but he was resolved to analyze the spell chain.

The older wizard edged closer until he cornered him and his eyes spoke of his amusement.

Hadrian knew that his concentration would vanish if he fell prey to his grandfather’s tricks again.

It was foolish to think that anyone could manage Arcturus Sirius Black, or that time would mellow him.

He possessed a deep aversion to all things sentimental or trivial. 

He was a man who believed in family, power and tradition. He had a preternatural presence that allowed him to face any situation whether divine or wizard-made without blinking an eye.

The only time Hadrian ever saw traces of humanity on his face was when his late wife, Lady Melania Black was mentioned.

His sarcastic wit and consummate control seemed to annoy Sirius beyond endurance; however, Hadrian knew that deep down, he adored his grandfather and admired him.

At times, Arcturus reminded him of Fleamont Potter.

The two elders had the same imposing aura and family-oriented vision. But while his grandfather was warmer than the evening sun and never shied away from expressing his feelings, Arcturus was the complete opposite.

He was cynical and cold. Some even called him heartless.

Hadrian knew better. 

During the years he spent in Grimmauld Place under his tutelage, he was allowed the privilege of taking a glimpse at Arcturus’ heart and he liked what he found.

“Concentrate young man. Your mind is miles away. I hate to believe that was it a real duel you would’ve died by now,” Arcturus goaded his Potter temper into an early appearance.

What the old fox seemed to have disregarded was his apprentice's Black half.

“Confringo, Reducto then Ardeat,” Hadrian answered, his green eyes glinting with challenge.

Arcturus lifted an eyebrow and lowered his wand. “Very well. And how would you counter this sequence were you in a real fight?”

Hadrian tilted his head and smirked. “I’ll either use a Bombarda Maxima before my foe finishes the first incantation and blast him at once or, play with him for a while and smile from behind a Protego Diabolica while he exhausts all his core reserves.”

Arcturus chuckled with mirth. “Very sneaky of you, Hadrian. I like that you learned your lessons well. Never give your opponent a chance and if you can’t guarantee a win, you can always subdue him with mind games. Your success will be determined by your self-confidence and fortitude.”

“I will remember that Grandfather. I will never cripple myself and let my enemy get the better of me. There are plenty of people willing to do that while I devise a way out.”

Hadrian enjoyed how Arcturus' eyes gleamed with pleasure at his words.

A glint of searing emotion appeared in the luminous depths before it was quickly extinguished. His sole answer was a firm nod that relayed more than words could ever do.

“That’s it for today, you can rest now. Tally will bring your robes for your brother’s birthday tomorrow and I believe that you don’t need to be reminded to conduct yourself appropriately at all times and never forget what you learned. As the future Lord of two Houses, your life, your image, and your choices are not solely yours. Many depend on you. Don’t you ever forget that, son.” Arcturus finished solemnly while his piercing eyes ran a deliberate glance over his two Heir rings.

Hadrian nodded, swallowing thickly.

It was his last night at Grimmauld Place and he had mixed feelings about leaving the home that welcomed and spoiled his magic in abundance for three years.

His heart ached, despite the excitement filling him at the prospect of spending more time with Henry.

When he first came here, he was daunted by the challenge of leaving the only home he knew, of staying away from his parents and Henry.

Two days later, when he woke up, Sirius introduced him to the intimidating previous Lord Black.

Arcturus had asked to be called Grandfather and Hadrian acquiesced. The man sneered at nicknames, acronyms and all sorts of shortened words.

He instructed him on the importance of a wizard’s name. It wasn’t just a means to call people.

Names held power. They weren’t mere letters; they carried the essence of the family Magic and the blessing of the ancestors.

The Potters, like all Pureblood families, adhered to tradition.

Hadrian was named by Fleamont Potter. He was the second of his name, called after the first son born to the family; Hadrian Linfred Potter.

His parents called him Harry out of love but deep down, he agreed with Arcturus. Even Fleamont used to call him Hadrian.

“Hadrian!” Sirius called and Hadrian straightened and swiped at his wet face with his sleeve.

“We are done for today. He’s all yours now,” Arcturus drawled before he left the Dueling Room with a swash of his long black robes.

“Are you all right, son? You’ve been training for three hours,” Sirius asked worriedly, his eyes inspecting him for damage.

“I’m fine, Sirius. I learned so much today,” he answered unable to hide his excitement, “why didn’t you join us?”

“I’d rather go on an errand in Azkaban or be pummeled by a horde of Hipogriffs,” Sirirus muttered under his breath and he chuckled.

“Sirius! Be thankful that he didn’t hear you,” Hadrian teased deliberately, always eager to witness the word games between the two Blacks.

Sirius was intelligent, affectionate and quick to laugh, a born and well-bred Black.

Yet, whenever in his grandfather’s presence he seemed like a chastised child.

“As if I care,” he huffed, “come, we must pick up a present for Henry. It’s his seventh birthday so it got to be something meaningful.”

“I know,” Hadrian’s heart started beating wildly and he doubted the need to divulge the secret only Henry knew.

It wasn’t the time to point out that Henry would always cherish his gift for he confessed the truth last year when he was caught, albeit inadvertently.

Like a good little brother, Henry gave him his word that he wouldn’t tell their parents. He was exhilarated that they had a little secret that was solely theirs.

He missed his brother so much. It has been a week since he visited considering that it was his last days in Grimmauld Place and Arcturus was adamant that he had so much to learn.

He wouldn’t stop teaching him, not really, but their meetings would be less frequent and lengthy.

An eventful year was ahead of him and he would receive his Hogwarts letter soon.

He needed to master the basics of the two families’ magics.

His father thankfully instructed him in the Potters’ customs during the three years he stayed away from the Ancestral Manor.

Henry joined every so often, mainly so he would stick to his side.

Finally, he would go back home and he couldn’t wait.

31 July 1987

Lord James Potter’s features softened as his attention went to his sons.

Henry was looking at his brother with awestruck eyes while he recounted something, they were joined by a timid Neville Longbottom who was biting his lower lip and trying hard not to meet Hadrian’s piercing eyes and show his fascination.

A slight twinge squeezed his heart and a wry smile touched his lips.

His Heir had grown up so much during the three years he spent in Sirius and Arcturus’ care.

Gone was the smiling child with the guileless eyes that reminded him of his Lily-flower.

The Hadrian that returned -despite his young age- had a presence that compelled serious attention. He carried himself with a dignity that even as his father, he would never dream to master.

His words were eloquent and fancy and everything about him screamed Pureblood traditionalist.

With his silky black hair worn a trifle longer than usual, his gleaming emerald eyes that had a silver hue, and his high cheekbones, courtesy of his Black inheritance, he looked far more like a perfect prince than a ten-year-old child.

The innocence in him hadn’t receded, yet it was replaced by another powerful feeling about him.

He loved his new temperament and the confidence that superseded any hint of arrogance.

He oozed determination and with every word, every move, he was reminded of his father and Arcturus at once. 

He knew that both were very proud of him.

Whenever Hadrian visited, his initial surprise gave way to stunned disbelief and worry.

He didn’t want to lose his son, not even to his brother and the blasted Black magic.

The past years were a task that grew more challenging with each passing day.

He closed his eyes for a while and when he opened them, Lily tilted her head questioningly.

“I’m fine, Lils. It’s Harr—Hadrian. I missed him so much,” he offered weakly.

“We’ll make sure to have plenty of family-time this year. I can’t believe that he’ll get his letter next summer,” Lily met his stare and inched closer.

She took his hand in hers. His body relaxed and his worries evaporated.

‘’And don’t you dare forget about me. He’s my son as well,” Sirius interjected as he joined them.

His tone was challenging, it ruffled James’ feathers.

He had lived with his sworn brother long enough to recognize that his stubborn determination was now asserting itself. 

"Do you believe I would ever deny you access to Hadrian? I’m grateful for all that you did for him, all the time and energy you sacrificed to bring forth the amazing wizard inside of him,” James stated, his fingers intertwining with his wife’s.

“We would never ask you to break your bond, Sirius,” Lily smiled. “Even though I’m not versed in oaths and rituals, how can I ask you to dishonour the pledge you swore with your blood?” she shook her head and James’ heart brimmed with pride.

Lily never stopped amazing him since their Hogwarts days.

Her resilience and willingness to consider opinions and traditions that were foreign to her were her long suit.

It was what fascinated his parents and made them accept her with open arms.

“Thank you, Lily,” Sirius’ shoulders sagged in relief.

“Prongs will always honour his promise,” Remus announced with a lifted eyebrow and Sirius shrugged.

“I had to remind them. I know how much they missed him and I don’t blame them, but Hadrian will need me too. His tutoring is not over yet, and Grandfather will kill me if I fail the family again—“ Sirius’ eyes were downcast as he whispered the last words.

They were twisted with so much pain and self-deprecation that James wanted to take him in his arms and never let go.

However, he knew that the vain man would not forgive such public breach of manners, not to mention the ruined image that would result from such action.

Sirius never forgave himself for Regulus’ death, never tried to.

The wound his brother’s demise generated was still festering and he doubted that the man would ever come to terms with the tragedy.

He blamed himself for taking refuge with the Potters while his brother succumbed to Walburga’s demands and followed the Dark Lord’s path, a path that led to his death.

“It wasn’t your fault, Padfoot,’’ Lily stressed out every syllable, her emerald eyes hard.

When he did not relent, she pulled him into a one-armed hug ignoring his protests.

“It’s NOT your fault,” she repeated the words with more force, “I’m tempted to hex you to oblivion maybe then my words will register.”

Sirius snorted and Lily kissed his cheek.

“I can’t deny the temptation. It has been a while since I hexed you,” she teased with a lighter tone.

Sirius leaned a bit closer as if imparting a highly confidential secret and winked over her shoulder, “You can always hex Prongs. I know how much you enjoyed holding him at wand point.”

“I told you that she fancied me. She was merely making me work for it,” James puffed his chest, ignoring his wife’s enraged gasp.

Remus and Sirius burst out laughing and Lily’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

He brought her closer to his side and played idly with her long hair.

He stared down at her, smiling at the way she was looking at his best friends. She was spirited and courageous and it pleased him that she cared about his chosen brothers as much as he did.

“Thank you,” he whispered and she nodded and tightened her hold on his hand.

Hadrian stared secretly at his brother, fighting a smile at the way he tried to mask his anticipation.

“Give it to me,” he urged him to hand over the necklace and Henry hurried to take it off.

“I’m sorry that you have to do it every year but the feeling of your magic dwindled in the past days,” Henry bit his lower lip and his voice was wavering and plaintive.

Hadrian shook his head and ruffled his brother’s hair, “I don’t mind brat. You’re my brother and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“Harry!” he groaned in indignation and ran his fingers through the wild mane he inherited from the Potters.

He was the only one allowed to call him 'Harry' when they were in the privacy of their rooms.

Hadrian never stopped instructing his brother and instilling in him the importance of traditions.

Henry wasn’t as interested, finding his lessons boring and stifling but Hadrian knew that with time, he would find merit in them.

He was a Potter despite not being the Heir and no Potter would besmirch the family’s honour, or worse yet, its name.

He tightened his hold on the Ceremonial Dagger and nicked his forefinger.

Swiftly, he took out his wand and steered the drop of blood to the ruby’s core.

It shone brightly as it absorbed his offering.

After a quick ‘Healing Charm’, he leaned and clasped the chain around Henry’s offered neck.

He kissed his forehead, where the curse-scar reminded him how close he came to losing his brother.

Henry sighed with deep contentment and engulfed him in a tight hug.

He could feel his heart beating against his chest and he knew that he was relishing the potent magic he just relinquished willingly.

He embraced his sibling and inhaled his scent and almost sighed aloud.

“Welcome back, Harry,” Henry’s voice was muffled by his robes, “I missed you.” He didn’t seem to be able to drop his hands or erase his smile and Hadrian’s heart sang with elation.

He was back and nothing would prevent him from protecting his family.

Chapter Text

15 August 1988

The gentle wind carried laughter on it as it blew against the beautiful Bramley Apple Trees’ leaves.

The night was special and James could almost feel the Manor wards’ excitement.

His eldest received his Hogwarts letter and he couldn’t be prouder.

He remembered when he received his. He remembered how much his parents had been thrilled.

Lowering himself into his chair, James watched as Sirius whispered something to Hadrian only for him to smirk and nod.

Henry tried to eavesdrop, but Sirius winked and conjured two fluffy, pink ear muffs that made the eight-year-old splutter with indignation.

“He’s trying hard not to show his hurt,” Lily dropped her head on his shoulder and sighed.

James nodded and ran his fingers through her fiery locks.

Hadrian’s imminent departure for Hogwarts threw a veil over Henry’s happiness. James knew how much it would hurt his youngest, more so when he just got his brother back a year ago.

He fell asleep next to Hadrian for the last days snuggled up tightly to his side and each morning, as he pretended to open the windows and awoke them, James found Henry always staring up at his sleeping brother.

He was certain that Hadrian wasn’t asleep. Thanks to the rigid regimen Arcturus put him through, he was an early riser. But he did it because he wanted Henry to get what he needed.

“You’re looking serious again,” Lily pointed out.

“Please, do not let Sirius hear you. Despite how much growth he showed since Father’s death, you know that he can’t let this pun slide,” James groaned.

Lily chuckled. “It has been a while since Sirius acted rashly, which is something I’ve never considered. I think he’ll miss Hadrian, too.”

“He will. Hadrian is lucky to have him. I trust that the kids will be safe should something happen to us,” James said hoarsely.

Lily put a finger over his lips and met his gaze levelly. “Our family won’t suffer loss again, not on my watch. We’ll be fine. The kids will be fine.”

The strength of his lioness surrounded James and he became suddenly aware of how much he needed the reassurance.

There was something tremendously soothing about knowing that the witch he loved since he learned what the word meant would always have his back and fight by his side.

It seemed that their feelings were mutual. As soon as he nodded, she pounced on him with desperate need and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you for being the best father our kids can have,” Lily smiled tearfully, flattening her hand over his heart.

“And thank you for seeing reason before it’s too late and going on that date with me,” James said reaching for her hand and rubbing the ruby that embellished her wedding ring.

Lily snorted and gave him a mock glare. “Don’t make me regret it,”

“It’s too late, Lily-Flower. You’re utterly mine, I have two sons who can attest to that,” James reminded her smoothly and she punched his upper arm.

“Git,” Lily muttered.

“Your git,” he winked.

“Prongs, I hate to remind you that I have sensitive ears. Please, we have innocent kids here. It’s still early to give them the talk,” Sirius snickered and the boys burst out laughing.

James’ chest tightened.

It was in times like these that he was reminded of his father’s sacrifice.

Without it, he wouldn’t be sitting with his family and enjoying a lazy evening in the gardens, wouldn’t be celebrating his eldest’s Hogwarts letter.

James’ hazel eyes went to the beautiful scenery surrounding their small group and smiled.

The Potter Manor gardens were thronged with exotic plants and trees, their long branches rattling against the soft breeze.

The cries of Garden Faeries rose thick in the air as they sang to the moon. On the opposite side, his family’s Ancestral Manor had a way of belonging to the old magical village that greeted his forebears with open arms. His thick stones reflected the moonlight and spoke to his soul.

It was Lord Hardwin Potter’s gift to Lady Iolanthe Peverell and the stones still carried the magic that inhabited it for centuries.

“James?” Lily nudged him.

He looked down at his beautiful wife and shook his head. “I’m fine Lils, I’m more than fine.’’

His eyes went to Hadrian and he wasn’t surprised when two polished emeralds looked straight into his heart before the eleven-year-old nodded.

Between the majestic Manor and the trees that danced in the wind, there was a sense of belonging, but nothing made him remember his identity more than the family he was bequeathed.

20 August 1988

The door to his room opened and Hadrian looked up to find Henry standing pale in the doorway, wringing his hands.

Unlike him, his brother was never taught the art of subtlety. He hoped that with time, he would learn how to mask his feelings.

He tried to introduce him to some crucial survival skills Arcturus taught him but Henry was more Gryffindor than anyone he met, his father included.

He had been his best friend and confidant all these years and had reminded him of his goal just by looking into his innocent hazel eyes.

He had aided him in ways he could not explain and it pained him that he had to spend months without the little troublemaker.

Henry moved forward, biting his lips and twisting his shirt’s long sleeves.

Unlike him, Henry preferred muggle attires, unless it was required of him to wear a robe.

Henry looked around hesitantly as he took small steps inside.

“Harry, are you ready for the trip to Diagon Alley? Mum says that we have to hurry,” he swallowed and looked down.

Hadrian adjusted the collar of his Acromantula Silk Wine-red robes and crossed his arms over his chest. “What have I told you about sulking, fidgeting and looking down? You’re a Potter; warriors’ blood fills your veins. You’re the Vanquisher of Voldemort and my brother. You’re not allowed to look anything but strong and proud. How can you expect to be sorted in Gryffindor if you’re a weakling?”

Henry gasped and his eyes shone bright amber. “I’m not a weakling!”

“Then show me,’’ Hadrian smirked.

“You!” Henry groaned then shook his head.

The two brothers grinned and a silent message passed between them. Their bond buzzed with warmth and Hadrian’s eyes softened.

“I’ll miss you,” Henry let out a slow breath.

“I’ll be back in Yule. You can ask Neville to visit more frequently, I like that guy. And then, you can accompany Mother to the Apothecary, maybe you’ll meet some kids your age in Diagon Alley,” Hadrian suggested softly.

“I like Neville, but he’s too shy,” Henry huffed.

“You can introduce him to the Marauders' ways. Uncle Remus can help,” he winked and Henry’s eyes sparkled.

“Is this a new challenge? You are being sly. I wonder if the lions' den is ready for you?”

Hadrian rubbed his neck and looked away. “Yes, I guess they won’t know how to deal with me. Grandfather Arcturus will be proud of me, though.”

Henry faked a shudder. “Maybe. I wonder if he ever smiles.”

Hadrian chuckled and ruffled Henry’s wild nest. “He does when no one is looking. Don’t you dare tell him I reported his darkest secret, I’ll deny it until my last breath.”

“Traitor,” Henry mumbled sullenly.

“Let’s head down,” Hadrian stared at the door, his heart pounding as anticipation flooded him.

He was about to start Hogwarts.

After a quick lunch, the Potter family left Tom’s pub through the brick wall behind The Leaky Cauldron.

Diagon Alley’s streets were brimming with clusters of parents accompanying their kids to purchase the items mentioned in their Hogwarts letters.

Immediately, Henry stiffened and Lily tried to shield him. It seemed that everyone sensed his presence.

Hadrian recognized his panic whenever he was confronted by annoying fans.

It was the main reason why he seldom stepped into Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.

The Boy Who Lived was too famous for his own good and Hadrian pitied his little brother for anonymity was a blessing he was deprived of.

James stopped in his tracks when a flash blinded them and with a wave of his wand, summoned the camera dangling from the smug Daily Prophet’s reporter.

“You have no right,” James snapped through gritted teeth. “I can sue you for this transgression.”

“But I … I was trying to take some pictures of The Boy Who Lived. We barely see him and our readers—‘’ the wizard stuttered.

He sounded pathetic and not at all like an upright reporter should be; confident and full of vigour.

James’ eyes narrowed. “My son is not a public property. Henry Potter is a British citizen who deserves his privacy like everyone else,” he added, disgust filling his voice.

The reporter didn’t seem overly pleased by their father’s reminder but he caught the message and nodded anyway.

“And remember, we can always go over the skeletons in your closet and let your readers know everything as they surely deserve,”

Sirius drawled coolly as he joined them, his long black robes bellowing and his eyes hard like diamonds.

The reporter’s alarmed expression increased the more Sirius’ toothy smile widened and before they could blink, he apparated away.

“Coward,” Lily snorted.

“He’s but a reckless fool. He should thank his lucky stars that we didn’t report him for harassment,” James did not seem pleased.

“But he won’t come back, right?” Henry asked.

“No. Don’t worry, Pup. We’ll enjoy Hadrian’s shopping day to the fullest,” Sirius winked and Henry’s shoulders sagged with relief.

“Come here darling,’’ Lily soothed, bringing Henry closer to her side. “No one will bother you again.”

“There now,” Sirius said gruffly,” I was looking forward to this day and I have no plans to let a bug ruin it. Where do you want to start, son?”

Hadrian smiled and looked at the list. “Let’s start with the robes. You know how much I hate shopping,”

“Don’t let Grandfather hear you. Clothes maketh thy man,” Sirius mimicked Arcturus and Hadrian shook his head.

He would bet all the galleons in the Heir vault that had Arcturus been there, Sirius wouldn’t dare mock one of his grandfather’s golden rules.

“Why don’t we head to Madam Malkin’s, then?”Lily said. “Let’s hurry before it gets crowded.”

Hadrian exchanged a meaningful glance with his godfather that James didn’t miss.

“Well, you see,” Sirius cleared his throat. “Hadrian is the Heir to two of Wizarding Britain’s oldest Houses. He can’t simply content himself with affordable robes we find on board. All eyes will be on him, scrutinizing, judging and waiting for him to fail. He got to be perfect at all times,” he explained carefully knowing that only a reckless fool would survive Lily Evans Potter’s temper.

“What are you talking about?” Lily demanded. “Why are you filling my son’s head with this nonsense?” 

James moved forward and embraced her. “Lils, Sirius is right.”

“But, it’s just simple—“ Lily turned betrayed eyes to Hadrian.

His tutoring helped him not to squirm or stutter under the assault of her direct gaze.

“I hate to remind you that nothing is simple or ordinary where our sons are concerned. Henry is The Boy Who Lived and Hadrian is Heir Potter-Black. All we can do, my love, is support them and make sure they reach the absolute limit of their capacity. That’s what good parents do,” James explained slowly.

He turned to Hadrian and Sirius.

It was only then that his self-assured façade disintegrated. He drew an unsteady breath and smiled sadly. “In my youth, I was a prat. I whined all the time and didn’t take my Heir lessons seriously. I wonder how Father never lost his patience and succumbed to the urge of cursing me,’’ he threw an apologetic glance at Sirius. The latter shrugged.

“I’m glad that Hadrian embraced his role wholeheartedly. I’m proud of your resilience, son, and even though I still have some reservations about the rigid Pureblood customs and restrictions, I’ll never hinder your political aspirations. It pains me to say that I see so much Arcturus in you.”

Hadrian grinned. “Thank you, Father. I’ll never disappoint you.” 

He watched how his mother’s features softened and tears pervaded her clear eyes. 

“I love you,” she mouthed and he muttered softly. “I know. I love you, too.”

“I want fancy robes too when I get my Hogwarts letter,” As if sensing the tension suffusing the air, Henry interjected.

Everyone chuckled, ignoring the hazel narrowed eyes. The younger Potter hated not being taken seriously.

“Don’t worry, brat. We’re at your behest. You only need to ask and you’ll get whatever you want,” Hadrian winked.

“Almost everything,” Lily stressed. “I won’t have you turn out to be a prankster like your father.”

“But Lils I can’t lose my legacy. At least one of my sons—“ James gasped outraged

“James!”

“Fine, let’s head to Twilfitt and Tattings. I believe it’s good enough for Arcturus’ tastes,” James huffed.

Sirius’ eyes sparkled with delight and he rubbed his hands in anticipation.

“Wipe the drool from your chin. You won’t have any shopping done today. This trip is all about Hadrian,” Lily smirked.

Hadrian sighed in relief. “Thank Merlin.” 

No one wanted to join Sirius on his shopping trips.

31 August 1988

Henry fumbled with his necklace and laid his head on Hadrian’s shoulder.

His fingers racked through Hedwig’s snowy feathers gently and the intelligent owl closed her amber eyes and enjoyed the attention.

“She’s so beautiful,” Henry whispered in awe.

“She is,” Hadrian agreed.

The day they went shopping for his school supplies, Hadrian never predicted that he would meet the feisty owl.

He planned to purchase an eagle or a Great Horned owl, however the moment his eyes landed on the snowy creature with the piercing amber gaze, something passed between them and his legs directed him toward her cage.

The Menagerie’s owner warned them of the owl’s temper but Hadrian didn’t care. He trusted in his instinct and the latter told him that the eerie beauty was his.

Henry seemed to have fallen under Hedwig’s thrall, too. He wouldn’t stop stoking her feathers since they retired to his room an hour ago.

Hadrian regretted that he was about to leave his brother alone in a few hours. He knew how attached to him the little monkey was. He couldn’t wait for him to turn eleven and start school as well.

“Will you—will you write to me daily?” Henry moistened his lips.

Hadrian threw his arm around his shoulder and hugged him closer. “I will write. Not daily but I won’t deprive you of all the important bits. By the time you’ll start Hogwarts, you’ll be able to navigate it with your eyes closed.”

Henry snorted. “You’ll give me the Marauders Map, right? I know that father slipped it into your pocket earlier.”

Hadrian lifted a dark eyebrow. “You’re a sneaky monkey, aren’t you? Don’t let Mother know.”

“I won’t. You know how well I can keep secrets,” Henry boasted.

“I know,” he smiled, his eyes riveted to the glowing ruby dangling from the silver chain.

What his brother didn’t know, was that the map wasn’t the only relic James Potter bestowed upon him.

Earlier that evening, he summoned him to the Lord’s office and invited him to take a seat.

His heart started pounding and the Potter Magic thrummed in his veins as James started talking about the Peverell Legacy, their Ancestors.

He told him about Iolanthe Peverell’s story and her priceless dowry. He reminded him of the burden she brought to their family and how honoured they were to be trusted with the third Hallow.

Hadrian’s heart started pounding and he eased to his back, ignoring the prolepsis that shot through him when James opened the secret vault in the office and retrieved The Cloak of Invisibility.

As the Heir, Hadrian was taught their family’s history since he was three but he never got the chance to touch the bequest. 

The Cloak passed from father to son the moment the Heir started school. It would remain his charge until the moment his first child received a Hogwarts letter.

Hadrian drew in the alluring magic seeping from the swath of extremely fine material. The legend reported that it was woven by Death from the hair of a Demiguise but no one was certain about the facts.

“The Cloak is your responsibility now,” James smiled. “I trust that you’ll guard it with your life.”

Hadrian nodded his consent. “I will, Father. It’s our family’s load and no stranger is allowed to get their hands on it.”

He was startled when his father burst out laughing. “When Father gave it to me many years ago, I was excited too but for completely different reasons. It gladdens and saddens me at once how different we are, Hadrian. At the tender age of eleven, I was never this responsible. I wanted to explore this world, spread my wings and enjoy life to the fullest. I’ve been a pampered, only child and I yearned for company and friendship. Luckily, I found them in Sirius and Remus and Pet—“ James’ jaw hardened and he took a deep breath.

“Damn that bloody traitor,” he growled.

“And he’s rotting in Azkaban, like he deserves,” Hadrian supplied mercilessly.

James didn’t seem surprised by his ruthlessness. He knew that his father was aware of his darker tendencies and the viciousness he inherited from the Blacks.

“It's not enough, not even close,” James’ gaze racked over his face carefully. “I know what you intend, Hadrian. I see it in your eyes every time Father is mentioned. I’m aware of the hours you spend in the Duelling Room daily before we start our day, training under the supervision of Ezio and Belen. I can imagine what kind of magic Arcturus taught you, what kind of curses the Black Grimoire contains.”

Hadrian swallowed thickly but didn’t lower his gaze. He did nothing wrong and he had nothing to hide.

“And you accept me just the way I am,” he stated for he didn’t need to ask.

“I do. You’re my son and my legacy. Mother Magic made it so that we’re way too different but I’m proud of you. Father’s soul is within yours so I trust that you’ll be safe. Just be careful, dark times await our family,” James confessed solemnly.

Hadrian held his father’s sad hazel eyes and understanding passed between them.

As Lord and Heir of House Potter, protecting their family was their most important job.

“Harry?” Henry nudged his side, reminding him of his presence.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been—“

‘’Thinking, I know. I’m familiar with that look. Your eyes glaze over and you lose your senses to whatever is brewing inside your head,” Henry huffed.

“Are you mocking me, brat? I’ll let you know that nothing but a very fine brain is inside my perfect head,” Hadrian gloated.

“You sound like a prat,” the little monkey muttered.

“You’re the prat,” Hadrian retorted as his fingers tightened on Henry’s shoulder.

“How do you get sorted? Didn’t Sirius tell you a thing?”

“No. everyone is been tight-lipped,” Hadrian groaned.

Henry chuckled. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? Potters are always Gryffindors. He’s our Ancestor so you will go there like Dad and Grandpa Fleamont,”

Slowly, Hadrian’s fingers loosened and he wanted to change the subject.

Henry, however, wasn’t a toddler anymore. He was an eight-year-old very attentive kid.

“Harry?”

“I don’t know which House I’ll join. But I believe it makes no difference. All Houses produced good and bad wizards equally. Look at Peter, he was Father’s mate and you know what the traitor did,” he explained.

Henry’s eyes widened. “I know but there are the Slytherins and—“

“Will me not being sorted in Gryffindor change a thing? I’ll remain your brother no matter what,” Hadrian coaxed with his eyes, needing Henry to understand, to accept whatever path he decided to follow.

Henry eased back and looked at him intently. He tilted his head and breathed. “No, it doesn’t matter. You’re my brother.’’

1 September 1988

Sirius and The Potters didn’t see Arcturus coming until he had almost reached them.

Heads turned and eyes widened when the previous Lord Black seized parents and children alike with dark-grey eyes that caused many a poor weakling to lose their balance and stumble on their feet.

“Bloody Hell. The old fox is making a point, isn’t he’” Sirius muttered

“Sirius, language!” Lily reprimanded.

“But—“

“Give up already and pretend to be happy. You look like a constipated goat,” Remus wickedly needled his best friend.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Arcturus said with a feral grin.

“Arcturus,” James nodded respectfully and the rest followed suit.

“I reckoned this is a crucial day in Heir Black’s life. I have to make sure that everything is in order,” Arcturus said coolly as his free hand — the one not holding the silver cane with the Grim’s head as a handle—clamped around Hadrian's shoulder.

“I’m fine, Grandfather,” Hadrian answered roughly, touched by the care Arcturus was showing.

“Very well. I trust you’ll bear in mind that your actions will influence the two families’ future. You’ve been an excellent student and it's time the world knows of your brilliance. I’ll accept nothing but stellar results from the letters you’ll send regularly,” the older Black asserted boldly.

Sirius coughed. “Someone is going to miss Hadrian so badly,”

Arcturus levelled him with a deadly glare. “I’m not ashamed to admit that I found solace in the years I spent teaching Hadrian. He’s a very special child.”

Hadrian collected Arcturus’ words like precious gems and swore to extract the memory later and keep it as a reminder.

Lily’s palm was warm and light as it rubbed his back. “It’s time. Almost everyone is on board.”

He discerned the roughness in her voice and his heart squeezed with a myriad of contradictory feelings.

Lily hugged him and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be waiting for your letter. Have fun and don’t you dare follow in your father’s footsteps.”

James lifted an eyebrow. “Despite my shenanigans, I was a brilliant student and a spectacular Quidditch player.”

He hugged him tightly but forced himself to let go when Sirius tapped his shoulder.

“Just be yourself. Be happy and never forget who you are,” Sirius said gruffly, his voice thick with tears.

“I won’t,’’ Hadrian said.

He knew how much it pained Sirius to be separated from the only son he knew. ‘’I’ll write often.” He promised.

“Good luck, Cub. Make us proud,” Remus smiled gently and Hadrian grinned.

“I’ll beat Mother’s records,” he winked and Lily gasped mockingly.

Finally, he looked down at Henry. He seemed too small and sad.

“Henry, I’m not leaving, not really. I’ll write and then, I’ll be home in Yule. Keep studying the material I left with Ezio and we’ll meet again before you know it,” he said compassionately.

Henry lifted doubtful eyes and murmured. “I will.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips when Henry finally succumbed to his need and threw his arms around his neck. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

Most of the carriages were packed with students.

Hadrian looked around as he walked across the long corridors with long, economical stride.

His sharp eyes scrutinized the faces and analyzed the behaviours the way Arcturus taught him.

He recognized some students from their facial features or the Family Emblem they wore with pride.

Hadrian was wearing his school robes. He didn’t want to struggle later to find a place where to change.

He passed many compartments until he reached the back of the train

There was no boisterous or wandering students. Everyone seemed poised and emotionless.

He was in the Slytherin section.

He pressed on through the judging eyes that followed him until he found a compartment with an empty seat.

He lifted an eyebrow as the three boys, who seemed his age, studied him.

Hadrian flicked his wand and levitated his trunk.

Silence fell over for a moment and Hadrian waited patiently.

The blond—who seemed the most impatient of the three— sighed and blurted. “I believe introductions are in order. I am Heir Adrian Pucey. The two gentlemen are my best friends, Heir Cassius Warrington and Heir Marcus Flint.”

Hadrian nodded and said. “Pleased to meet you. I am Heir Hadrian Potter-Black.”

Adrian’s light-blue eyes widened. “Potter as in Henry’s Potter brother?”

Hadrian sighed. He knew it was coming and despite how much he hated the attention the tragedy that befall his family years ago brought, he understood that he had to accept it.

“I am Henry’s older brother. You may call me Hadrian.”

“You may call me Cassius,” the grey-eyed, composed brunette offered.

Hadrian knew of the three Heirs. The Puceys and the Warringtons were inherently Neutral families while the Flints, like the Blacks, were Dark.

“Marcus is fine,” the tallest guy muttered nonchalantly.

“But aren’t you supposed to find a compartment with the—“

“Adrian,” Cassius interjected. “I apologize Hadrian but we didn’t expect a Potter in the Slytherin Section.”

Hadrian smirked. “I understand. But I am a Black as well and this is where I belong.”

Cassius skewered him with way-too-perceptive eyes. “You seem to understand how powerful you are with your two Heirships.”

“I do. I was trained by the best,” Hadrian confessed.

“You sound way too Slytherin for a Light Potter,” Adrian fixed him with a puzzled stare.

“The Potters are not Light, we are Grey.” Adrian’s eyes flared with surprise. “And nothing is wrong with being ambitious.”

“Well said,” Marcus’ lips twitched.

“I believe we’ll have a very nice surprise tonight,” Cassius leaned on his seat and closed his eyes. 

“Who knows? Maybe we will,” Hadrian paused and glanced at the three guys.

They were firsties like him. Two were Neutrals while Marcus was a Dark wizard with an ambiguous family history.

No one was certain whether Lord Darius Flint was a Death Eater.

Nevertheless, he was ready to make a bet that they were what he needed if he wanted to rule House Slytherin.

Powerful allies that would help him pave his path toward the top.

Maybe he was wrong or way too optimistic but he trusted in his magic and the latter was thrilled and excited.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall greeted tightly.

Hadrian knew how much the poor woman suffered at the Marauders' hands.

He cringed when he remembered the late-night stories Sirius recalled.

It was a wonder they weren’t expelled.

The flock of students flowed her until they reached a small chamber off the Hall.

She explained about the four Houses and her eyes lingered a bit on him.

Hadrian nodded and her lips twitched fleetingly.

When she left, Adrian wondered. “But how do we get sorted? My parents wouldn’t give me a hint.”

“Mine too. I believe it’s a well-guarded secret,” Hadrian suppressed a titter of amusement.

No matter how Henry fussed and bustled, James, Lily and Sirius refused to yield and help.

He missed the little monkey already.

Cassius regarded Adrian with exasperation. “You’ll know in a bit. Try to be patient.”

Marcus huffed and looked at the closed door with dark, excited eyes.

“Now, form a line and follow me,” Professor McGonagall ordered the moment she returned.

Hadrian worked to control his expression as he beheld the magnificence of the Great Hall.

His heart beat like Griffin hooves while he studied the spacious room.

His eyes went to the top of the Hall where the professors were seated.

He recognized Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Flitwick —who visited his mother’s Apothecary occasionally— Potion Master and Severus Snape.

His mother told him about the fallout and how much it still pained her that she lost her best friend.

Snape’s dark eyes crossed his and he stilled for a heartbeat, then turned away.

Professor McGonagall placed a stool in front of them and put an old hat on top of it.

Hadrian’s eyes narrowed when a rip opened wide and the hat started singing.

“Unbelievable,” Adrian mouthed.

The Hall burst into applause when the hat was done singing.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long list and one by one, the students stepped forward.

Hadrian noticed that the sorting differed. Sometimes the hat decided quickly, sometimes it took a while to pronounce its verdict.

“Potter-Black Hadrian,’’ Professor McGonagall called.

Whispers broke out the moment he was called.

“Potter? As in Henry Potter's relative?”

“He’s his older brother. The Potters have two sons.”

“But he’s a Black, too. I heard that Lord Sirius Black adopted him.”

“Is he a Potter or a Black?”

“He’s a Gryffindor. All the Potters were sorted there.”

Hadrian ignored the noise and walked gracefully toward the stool.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes the moment Professor McGonagall dropped the ancient relic over his eyes.

“Welcome to Hogwarts Hadrian. You’re a descendant of Master Gryffindor, my dear friend. I feel his magic in your blood, mixed with that of the Peverells and the Blacks,”

Hadrian froze.

“Are you surprised? I am a Sentient. I can tell just by looking into your head. Don’t worry, My lips are sealed,”

“Thank you, Mr—“

“Sage, call me Sage. So where shall I put you Hadrian Potter-Black, hmm? It’s a tough decision.”

“I want to protect my family,” Hadrian said slowly.

“A very noble aspiration for someone so young. Master Gryffindor would be so proud of you,” Sage said with a hint of a smile.

“You know where I have to be. Godric Gryffindor would be proud of me wherever I go. Potters protect their own and I can’t accomplish my mission if I don’t get closer to the enemy.”

“Are you sure you can handle this choice, Hadrian Potter-Black? Would you put everything on the line to protect your brother?” Sage asked.

“I would. I will protect Henry and avenge Grandpa. I will invade House Slytherin and make it kneel. They will abide by my rules and follow my lead. They will fight by my side when the time comes and I will win.”

“You are too confident, little Hadrian.”

“I am a Potter and a Black. We don’t give up, ever. I believe in my family’s magic,” Hadrian’s voice was hoarse by the end. “Please, let me help my family.”

“Very well. I can’t refuse your request when you sound too resolved. Better be…SLYTHERIN!”

The silence that followed Sage’s burst was disturbing.

Hadrian took off the hat slowly and handed it to Professor McGonagall.

The stern woman nodded, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Head held high, Hadrian headed toward the furthest corner of the Slytherin table.

He didn’t pay the bemused eyes that followed him heed and sat down.

He looked at the High Table and smoothed his expression when Dumbledore’s eyes studied him.

Shortly, he was joined by Flora, then Hestia Carrow. The twins grinned when he looked at them.

“A Potter in Slytherin? My day just got better,” the first brunette cackled.

“Why, dear sister. You’re right. Welcome to our humble abode Heir Potter-Black,” the second added.

“You may call me Hadrian and I would appreciate an introduction,” he raised an eyebrow.

“Aw, you’re a Black indeed, I’m Flora.”

“And I’m Hestia so don’t forget our names,”

“I won’t,” Hadrian promised.

He knew of the older Carrow Twins' history. They were steadfast supporters of Voldemort’s movement.

Arcturus reported that Aiden Carrow, the twins’ father and current Lord, was Neutral.

“You did it,” Marcus said sullenly.

“A Potter-Black never goes back on his word,” Hadrian smiled.

Marcus nodded and their little group grew when they were joined by Adrian then Cassius.

Prefect Selwyn directed the first years to the Slytherin Dormitory.

“Serpens is our password for the week. You are not allowed to forget it or worse yet, give it to an outsider. You’ll be severely punished,” the fifth-year grinned viciously.

“He’s taking us for fools,” Adrian mumbled.

“Don’t let him hear you. He’s cruel,” Cassius warned.

“Follow me,” Selwyn ordered and the first years acquiesced.

They were steered to the centre of the room before Selwyn asked them to wait.

Moments later, Professor Snape joined the agglomerated students.

He reminded them of the importance of House unity and mentioned how badly the Slytherins were regarded.

Hadrian noticed that he refused to look at him and his eyes narrowed.

He wouldn’t pay for old grudges and misunderstandings. He wouldn't accept mistreatment from anyone, professors included.

After Snape left, Selwyn sneered. “You’re not allowed to leave yet. The Court Members want to have an introduction.”

“The Court?” Adrian paled.

“Of course. We were taught the Slytherin Hierarchy. Hadrian?” Cassius hesitated.

“Don’t worry. I know,” Hadrian smiled.

Arcturus was adamant he learned the Court’s history.

If House Slytherin was harsh and deadly, it was due to the Members ruling it.

The Hierarchy wasn’t based mainly on age. It was based on a plethora of factors and the King’s words were final.

“Welcome to House Slytherin,’’ a smug voice drawled.

Hadrian’s head whipped so fast and his eyes collided with two pools of vengeful blue.

“Heir Dominic Rookwood,” Cassius supplied under his breath.

So, Lord Augustus Rookwood’s son was the King.

“Heir Potter-Black is in my House? What a surprise,” Dominic fixed him with a challenging stare he returned gladly.

“I trust in the hat’s judgment,” Hadrian answered casually.

Dominic’s grin widened. “You don’t look like a Potter. You’re too controlled,”

“I do look like how a Potter should be. You can’t expect all family members to be the same,” Hadrian fired back.

“You—“ A blond witch jumped to her feet and glared at him.

“Cordelia, take it easy. I like the fire in this firstie,” Dominic moved cautiously and looked down at him.

“Why are you here, Potter-Black?” he asked after he whispered a ‘Muffiliato’

“Because I belong here,” Hadrian stressed.

When Dominic lifted an eyebrow he smiled. “Because I’ll be your successor,”

Dominic’s eyes flared before he burst out laughing.

“Good luck with that Hadrian, good luck with that.”

“I don’t need luck,” he smirked. “I forge my fate with my own hand and magic.”

James’ hand trembled as he put the letter down.

“He did it,” Lily whispered fearfully.

His voice failed him, so he nodded once.

Sirius sighed and took a large swallow of his drink. “I blame Arcturus. He—"

“No,” Remus interjected. “You don’t see Hadrian the way I do. Slytherin is the only House that suits him. Unlike us, he’s ambitious and crafty and way too smart for his own good.”

Lily smiled weakly. “He’s reckless, too. He picked up the hardest path.”

“He’s a Potter. We never shy away from danger, we thrive in it,” James sighed.

“Will he be alright? Wouldn’t Voldemort’s followers give him a difficult time?” Lily whispered.

She was rigid in James’ grasp, her breaths coming in gasps.

He kissed his wife’s forehead and soothed softly. “Shhh, he’ll be fine.”

Suddenly, Sirius burst out laughing. “Can you imagine the look on Snape’s face? The bastard might suffer a heart attack,”

When Lily glared at him, he shrugged and grinned savagely. “And don’t worry about Hadrian’s safety. You’d better pity whoever dares confront him.”

Chapter Text

31 July 1991

Henry Potter was full to bursting with excitement while he gazed at the kitchen’s open window like a Niffler on the hunt for his shiny gold. 

The moment he opened his eyes, he rushed downstairs his heart clattering as he remembered what awaited him that day.

It wasn’t merely another birthday, it was his eleventh birthday, the day on which he would, at last, receive his Hogwarts letter.

Harry sent him an amused glance as he refilled his empty glass. “I can’t help but notice the way your eyes are glued to the window. Are you perchance waiting for something?” he said smugly.

Henry huffed and gave him an exasperated sidelong glare. Harry enjoyed playing with him despite being aware of what was plaguing his thoughts for the past week.

He was finally eleven and soon, he would start Hogwarts and begin a meaningful, new journey. He couldn’t wait to join his brother at school and explore every nook and cranny of the magical castle.

His father still got starry-eyed whenever he recalled the havoc he wrecked with the Marauders during their time and despite his mother’s warnings, Henry wanted to follow in his sire’s footsteps.

Three years ago, Harry’s sorting surprised him—which didn’t seem to be the case with his parents or Sirius and Remus.

Come to think of it, Harry has always been different. He did always feel older than his age which troubled Henry at times.

Despite his young age, he was aware of the hefty burden his brother was saddled with since birth.

He was Heir Potter-Black, the sole carrier of dual heritage and responsibility that would break any grown-up wizard’s back.

He knew how much the events of the night Voldemort invaded their home and killed their grandfather haunted him still.

Henry didn’t remember much of that night, except for the green light and the sudden pain he felt when the Killing Curse struck him.

But he noticed the way Harry’s eyes glazed over whenever that night was mentioned.

He noticed the hours he spent with Ezio and Belen asking for more stories about Fleamont Potter and making sure he was following the right path, the path Fleamont wanted him to keep to.

To be honest, Henry was thankful that he was spared the entire Lordship headache. He had his share of trouble with the Boy Who Lived nonsense and couldn’t fathom the idea of being charged with more.

He hated his moniker and how disrespectful it was of his family’s tragedy.

His mother tried everything she could to get rid of his scar, but the bloody reminder of that night wouldn’t go away.

He sighed and his eyes followed his brother’s meticulous movements. Harry seemed outwardly relaxed as he munched on his beloved treacle tart however, Henry knew better.

He was taught so well by Sirius and Arcturus to show his real feelings. Sometimes, it annoyed Henry how controlled his sibling was. He wanted to shout at him to let go, to forget about the past and enjoy life as it was.

However, it was a wistful dream. It seemed that all of Harry’s determination and ambition had converged into a single desire ten years ago, to avenge their grandfather.

Henry was used to being overlooked and considered the innocent little brother, yet he wasn’t by any means stupid.

He eavesdropped on his parents’ conversations and witnessed the worry in their eyes long enough to understand that a looming threat was still lurking in the shadows.

Clearly, Voldemort did not perish that night and he would come back and seek revenge on him, his supposed vanquisher.

Henry’s hand shook and he gulped as he remembered what awaited him.

He was in no way ready to confront a wizard of Voldemort’s calibre, but he knew that he wouldn’t be alone, never alone.

“Henry?” Harry’s voice put an end to the dark path his wayward thoughts were steering him to.

“I’m fine,” he stuttered.

“You’re a bad liar,” Harry shook his head.

“And that’s why I won’t be sorted in Slytherin,” his pride bristled and he jutted his chin and returned his brother’s smug smile.

“Children,” Lily chided exasperatedly.

“Why Lily, it’s only fair that one of our kids is a Gryffindor,” James supplied.

“It doesn’t matter what House Henry will join as long as he’s happy,” Lily stressed out, her eyes going to Harry who seemed thankful for his mother’s unwavering support.

“Please, House Slytherin is lucky to have someone as my son,” Sirius took a sip of his tea. “He beat every score in history, Dumbledore’s included. I’m certain that his OWLS will be mind-blowing.”

“At least he didn’t follow your path. My dear son took after me,” Lily smirked.

“He took after me, too! You only need to look at his Transfiguration scores to understand that he is my son,” James huffed indignantly.

“Childish much, aren’t they?” Harry whispered and Henry giggled.

“Yes, they are. But you can’t deny that you set the bar too high for me, Harry. I’ll need to beat all your accomplishments,” Henry said with resignation.

“And I’ll be always cheering for you, Henry. You’re welcome to try,” the bastard winked.

Henry smiled nevertheless. He loved those peaceful, taunting-filled moments he shared with Harry and hoped that he wouldn’t lose them the moment he started school.

He knew he couldn’t join Harry in House Slytherin for a plethora of reasons, mainly his brash and too-honest persona. 

He was a Gryffindor through and through.

However, he was too greedy to let go of his brother merely for the disadvantage of being sorted into two warring houses.

He gasped when an owl—that wasn’t Hedwig—flew his way carrying the most awaited letter.

‘’Congratulations, Henry!” James gushed happily and so did Lily, Sirius and Remus.

Harry gave him an appreciative nod that spoke volumes of the strong bond that linked them. Of course, his brother could feel the true extent of his joy.

He didn’t get time to answer for his ravenous hands proceeded to open the letter and read every scribed word with enraptured attention.

A devil whisper sifted through his hazy thoughts. ‘Let the fun begin.’

25 August 1991

It wasn’t the first time he was in Diagon Alley, yet somehow it felt different.

Henry was bouncing with excitement as he checked the list over and over again making sure he got everything he needed.

His brother’s enrollment in school filled him with equal measures of happiness and dread.

He wasn’t ignorant of the danger he would be exposed to the moment he left the safety of Potter Manor.

He suffered from recurring nightmares from the moment Henry’s letter arrived and he knew that dreams had a way of tangling memories and worries together.

It was not surprising that his mind would connect Henry’s leaving home to his grandfather’s tragedy.

“It’s time to get your wand,” Lily smiled and Henry nodded eagerly.

Harry smiled and his hand went to the Heirloom he never left his room without.

Getting his destined wand at a very young age, he was spared the trip to Master Wandmaker Ollivander.

The Yew and Griffin Heartstring wand chose him and he needed no other. With the Blood Ritual Arcturus taught him, he made sure that their connection became absolute. As long as he was alive, no Wiccan but him was allowed to use the priceless Heirloom.

“Yes!” Henry dragged Lily by the hand and they followed.

Remus did not join them due to the approaching full moon. It saddened Henry that his godfather couldn’t be part of his most significant day but he understood the implications of his curse.

The shop was hauntingly dark and gloomy. Henry looked around for its owner but found nothing.

A sudden ripple in the air spurred Hadrian into action. He flicked his wand and moved forward in a few stealthy strides to shield Henry as something moved soundlessly.

“Bravo, Mr Potter. I believe you inherited your grandfather's sharp instincts,” Henry jumped when the soft voice announced its owner’s presence.

“Good morning, Master Ollivander,” Hadrian bowed his head respectfully.

“Oh, let’s see. Lord Black’s impeccable manners too,” Ollivander chuckled.

“Hmmm, Hello?” Henry said awkwardly.

“Mr Henry Potter. I can’t deny that I wasn’t waiting for the day I grant you your greatest ally, your wand,”

“Thank you, Master Ollivander. You’ve been a good friend to Father and Grandfather,” James smiled.

“I wasn’t a great help to Fleamont. His rebellious magic wouldn’t settle for one of my creations,” the Wandmaker sighed, his pale eyes studying Henry’s face.

“Well, I’m sure that Henry will find what he needs here,” Lily interjected in a bid to dissipate the mounting tension.

“Oh, I’m sure he will. Let’s see.”

After taking Henry’s measurements, Ollivander started flitting around the shelves taking down boxes and looking for potential matches.

Hadrian went still as Henry’s magic refused wand after wand.

He felt his brother’s fear and wanted to shout at the Wandmaker to find the fated wand at once.

Nevertheless, he kept his mask in place and waited.

His parents and Sirius seemed distressed too. They kept sending each other alarmed looks when they thought that Henry wasn’t looking.

He did not doubt that Henry noticed every furtive glance.

Master Ollivander’s hoary brows knitted and he contemplated Henry for a long moment before he nodded and left for the back of his shop.

He returned with an old box. Hadrian caught on the shaking of his hands as he offered Henry the wand within.

“Holly and Phoenix Feather, eleven inches. An unusual combination, but—“

Spurned into action by a strange force, Henry snatched the wand and gasped when a stream of gold and red sparks shot from its polished end.

“Curious, very curious indeed…” Master Ollivander seemed deep in thought as he tapped his fingers over the counter.

“And why is that, Master Ollivander?” James demanded and Hadrian understood that he was at the end of his tether due to all the stress of the ordeal.

His father was by no means the most patient of men.

“Because, Lord Potter, the Phoenix whose tail is in your son’s wand gave just another feather. It’s very curious he is destined to bond with this wand when its brother gave him the lightning scar.”

An ominous silence followed Ollivander’s words and everyone stared. Chief among their reaction was disbelief.

Hadrian followed the exact moment Henry’s eyes widened in understanding as he tried to sort through the layers of Ollivander’s cryptic words.

“You mean…” He gulped fearfully, “you mean I share the same wand core with Voldemort?” Henry managed to say into the quiet.

Ollivander gave him a sharp nod. “Wands are a curious thing. Despite being on the field for decades, there are many mysteries I’m yet to uncover.”

“Thank you, Master Ollivander. I believe it’s time we take our leave. Our shopping is not done yet.” Sirius chuckled and paid for the wand, steering Henry out.

Hadrian remained glued to the spot, his green eyes as dark as pitch.

“It’s not a coincidence that their wands are brothers,” he said quietly.

Master Ollivander nodded. “I see you’re well-versed in Wandlore. Older Potters had this interest too. I remember some of the lengthy talks I had with your great grandfather, Lord Henry Abraham Potter the II.”

The affirmative words touched the aching wound in his heart that never got the chance to heal.

“Thank you for your honesty, Master Ollivander.” Hadrian bowed again and left without a second thought.

James was waiting for him out, his expression thunderous.

He draped an arm over his shoulder and kissed his forehead.

“We knew it was coming. We shouldn’t be surprised,” he whispered thickly.

“Father…”Hadrian breathed.

“Lily and Sirius took Henry to the Quidditch shop, try and act casual. Let’s not ruin your brother’s day.”

“But Henry knows.”

“He does, even though he’s not showing his distress. He’s just like you, despite how different you seem. You’re brothers,” James smiled sadly.

Hadrian concentrated his attention on the Potter Emblem stitched over his father’s breast.

After all these years, he would have expected the memory to stop hurting by now. But the pain sank as deep as ever

“I need a moment to digest all this, Father. I have to make sense of this unexpected development,” Hadrian pleaded with his voice.

James ran a hand over his Heir's perfectly-styled hair and he could feel the taut, intimate heat of the Potter Magic seeping from the family Lord’s fingers and washing his fears away.

“Take all the time you need but remember, Henry needs you now more than ever.”

Hadrian swallowed as a sudden thickness stuck in his throat and for the first time in years, he broke his public mask and dropped his head over his father’s broad shoulder.

“Cassius and Adrian are waiting for me. I’ll join you in a moment,” Hadrian gathered his wits and lifted his head with as much dignity as he could channel.

“Very well. We’ll be waiting for you at Flourish and Blotts, don’t keep us waiting.”

“Never,” Hadrian promised with an apologetic smile knowing that his father would always hear his unsaid vow.

31 August 1991

‘’You should get some rest,” Harry said from behind his Ancient Runes book.

“I can’t,” Henry whined, not caring that he sounded like an overindulged child.

Harry sighed and put his book down.

‘’You are behaving like a brat, aren’t you?”

Henry huffed and twirled his wand between his fingers.

“I don’t care. It’s my last day home and I can act however I want,” he said nonchalantly trying to veil the way his heart began to beat fast and sharp as the wand’s magic seemed to mingle with every drop of his blood.

“You’re feeling the budding connection with your wand. Your bond will get stronger as long as you keep practising,” Harry’s tone was very gentle.

“Will I be able to follow my training in Hogwarts? I’m still way behind on the program you designed for me,” Henry bit his lower lip.

He blamed himself for his carelessness.

He didn’t possess his brother’s will and resilience no matter how much he tried to immerse himself in the Potters way of life.

He loved Duelling, truly, but he loved flying on his broom more.

“You’ll have to work harder if you want to excel, Henry,” Harry glanced down at him with honest eyes. “People will expect a lot from you, will follow your every move and enemies will relish in seeing you fail. You have to show them what you’re made of. You’re not merely The Boy Who Lived. You are a son of the illustrious House Potter, Battle Mages' blood runs thick in your veins and pride is the only cloak you’re allowed to wet. You can’t let your ancestors down. You can’t let yourself down.”

Henry shook his head helplessly. “It’s too much. I’m not cut for all this…I’m not like you,’’ he voiced his greatest fear, the fear of disappointing the brother he loved more than anything.

In a blink, Harry lunged at him and grasped his face tightly between his hands. “You’re not allowed to doubt yourself. You’re great just the way you are. You’re kind and hardworking and an asset to your House. You’re a war Hero, a survivor. While grown-up men hid their heads like ostriches, you received Voldemort’s Curse at point blank and won. You have the scar to attest to that.”

Henry couldn’t remember when he felt this wash of affection for his brother.

He knew it was quite impossible to find people who looked at him, Henry, just Henry outside of the close-knit of his family.

“I still remember the day you left for Hogwarts,” he dropped his head on the comfy mattress and looked at Harry.

“You’ll enjoy your first day in Hogwarts, I can guarantee that,” Harry grinned mischievously.

Henry’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Won’t you at least give me a hint about the sorting process? It’s not fair! I’m your favourite brother,” he channelled his best puppy eyes, knowing how many times they solved his problems. 

Harry, however, snorted. “You’re my only brother, brat. And no, my lips are sealed. You’ll have to find out for yourself. I won’t ruin your fun.”

“You’re ruining it with all this secrecy,” Henry groaned pitifully.

Harry paused all of a sudden and ran a placating hand across his forehead.

“Hogwarts is more, way more, than Father and Sirius’ tales. You have to discover it on your own.”

Aware of the sudden tension coming off his brother in concentrated wafts, Henry nodded slowly.

“Things are not always what they seem. You have to pay attention and be vigilant at all times. Be careful who you associate with. Your friends can turn out to be your greatest asset or your Achilles tendon,” Harry added solemnly.

“I hope I’ll get good friends like yours. I’m eager to meet Cassius and Adrian and Marcus,” Henry murmured shyly.

Harry didn’t talk much about his Slytherin friends, yet from the little bits he stitched together, he grasped the extent of the strong bond that tied the foursome together.

Harry’s soothing voice compelled him to keep gazing at him while he talked. “House Slytherin is…different. We’re ruled by a rigid order. You may not understand what I’m aiming at now but….Heir Hadrian Potter-Black Hogwarts knows is not Harry, the older brother you are used to.”

During that last extraordinary sentence, the quiet volume of his voice fell to a near whisper and Henry stared at him, transfixed.

“What does it mean?” Henry asked fearfully.

Harry’s thumb caressed his cheek and their shared gaze remained unbroken.

“It means that I’m showing this world nothing but the mercy it showed me the day Fate stole Grandfather and put your life in danger.”

Shifting his weight on the mattress, Henry reached out and put his hand over Harry’s knee.

“I know, I’ve always known.”

The smile his words extracted from Harry’s lips was heartbreakingly sad.

1 September 1991

Henry watched his parents, Sirius and Remus disappear as the train started moving.

Neville left a moment ago for the washroom and wasn’t back yet.

Harry helped them secure an empty compartment before he left to meet his friends.

Harry had smiled gently when he saw the stricken look in his eyes. “Remember what we talked about,’’ he whispered and Henry nodded.

It was uncouth to act like a baby.

He wouldn’t ruin his brother’s plans—whatever they were— and act with honour and grace as he was supposed to.

Ares, the Horned Owl he bonded with while looking for a pet barked as he ran his fingers over his shiny dark brown feathers.

“It’s fine,” he cooed. “We’ll get to school soon.”

His owl was, surprisingly, volatile and hated being denied his morning flight the most.

Ares’ amber eyes shone with indignation and he barely his snort.

“Where is Nev?” he wondered exasperatedly.

His friend was kind-hearted but overly clumsy and shy.

Lily swore that he took after his mother, her best friend Alice.

He was startled when the door of the compartment slid open and a redheaded boy came in.

“Can I join you?” the lanky boy fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt. “All the compartments I checked were full and I’m tired.”

Henry urged him to come in. “Yes, you can. It’s just me and my mate, Neville.”

The boy sighed and took the seat facing him. 

“So, ummm…I’m Ron, Ronald Weasley,” the boy extended his hand.

Henry took it and smiled. “I’m Henry Potter.”

The moment the words left his lips, the boy’s eyes rounded with surprise before they strayed to his forehead, where his famous scar was hidden under a thick layer of hair.

“You’re The Boy Who Lived! Do you…I mean, is it true that you have a lightning scar?” Ron blurted, his ravenous gaze still glued to his forehead.

Dread settled in the pit of Henry’s stomach.

He wondered if he was fated to remain linked to that disastrous night.

Sensing that he was leaning toward a burst of anger, he took a deep breath and pushed his real feelings away.

“I’m not The Boy Who Lived. I am Henry Fleamont Potter,” he said flatly.

“But…” Ron seemed flabbergasted by his reply.

“Hello, Ron, nice to meet you. I’m Henry,” he tried again and understanding seemed to wash over Ron.

He dropped his head in shame and murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Henry’s body relaxed and one of his hands slipped over Ares’ silky feathers.

“My family endured a lengthy mourning due to that night. I don’t appreciate being reminded of it on a regular basis. I can’t believe wizards’ stupidity. How can they expect me to accept a moniker that reminds me of my loss?”

Withdrawing his fingers from Ares’ back, he shook his head with a rueful smile.

Henry’s contempt for Wizarding Britain and their ridiculous labels couldn’t be lessened. He hated their callousness with passion.

“Come to think of it, you’re right. It’s insensitive and cruel to force you to recall that night over and over again,” Ron muttered and Henry was relieved that he regained at least a modicum of good sense.

“So, tell me about yourself. Do you have other siblings?” Henry started a light conversation while waiting for Neville.

“Yes. I have five brothers and a sister…”

Ron started talking about his family and Henry noticed his unease.

Of course, he heard of the Weasleys.

Mr Arthur Weasley was a Minister worker his father mentioned once or twice. And Tonks was best friends with Charlie. Harry teased her whenever she visited with Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted.

“I heard you have an older brother,” Ron said after he was done with his rambling.

“Yes. My older brother, Harr—I mean Hadrian will be starting his fourth year.”

“Henry!” Neville came rushing inside, his face paler than usual.

Henry jumped to his feet. “Neville? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Trevor…I …I lost him while in the washroom,” Neville wailed.

“Did you look carefully? You know how much your toad likes to play hide and seek,” Henry groaned.

“I looked everywhere but I can’t find him,” Neville shook his head miserably.

“He’s right. Trevor is not in the washroom.”

A bushy-haired girl, wearing Hogwarts robes interrupted swiftly.

Henry looked at Neville questioningly.

“Ummm…this is Hermione Granger. I met her while looking for Trevor and she offered her help.”

Henry extended his hand. “I’m Henry Potter.”

As expected, the girl’s eyes darted to his forehead and for the umpteenth time, he was thankful for the Potter legendary nest of wild hair.

Henry cleared his throat and mentioned to Ron. “And this is Ron Weasley. Thank you for helping my friend, Miss Granger.”

Hermione blushed, seeming appalled by her ogling.

“I…Nice to meet you, Henry, Ron,” she mumbled hurriedly.

“Very well, I believe it’s time we seek some help,” Henry sighed.

Why in Godric’s name would his friend pick up a rebellious toad as a pet?

“Let’s get Hadrian!” Neville grinned.

“Your brother?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, he’s a fourth-year Slytherin,” Henry said with dangerous softness.

“But…I mean Professor McGonagall…” Hermione swallowed thickly.

“He’s a Slytherin! I can’t believe this. How can the older Potter—“ Ron prattled unaware of the fire simpering under Henry's skin.

“Ron….” Neville said warily.

Henry skewered him with his coldest stare. “Yes, my brother is a Slytherin. Do you have a problem with that?”

“But they’re evil…” Ron whispered, seeming to notice the enraged look in his eyes.

“Salazar Slytherin helped found the school that housed young witches and wizards for centuries and helped them hone their skills, didn’t he? How can you call him evil? I don’t care what the stupid books say but I accept no bigotry. My brother is the best, he’s perfect. So if you’re not ready to change your narrow-minded understanding of the Wizarding World and broaden your horizons, I ask you nicely to leave this compartment and my company at once.”

Henry knew he had been callous. Not every eleven-year-old was exposed to his past but he didn’t regret his harsh words.

No one was allowed to disrespect his brother in his presence, ever.

“Well…” Hermione cleared her throat, “I believe you should apologize Ron. It was uncalled for.”

“But…’’ Ron’s freckles stood out as he blushed furiously.

“Yes, you should. I’ve known Hadrian since I was a kid and let me tell you this, I envy Henry for being blessed with a brother like him.”

Neville’s confession surprised Henry.

He knew how much Harry liked the timid Longbottom Heir but he had never expected this level of…admiration.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…I was taught that no good comes from a Slytherin. I mean every Dark wizard was a Slytherin,” Ron seemed not to find the right words.

“And Peter Pettigrew was a Gryffindor and Dad’s best friend. And look what he had done,” Henry explained as gently as he could. “Our core affiliation doesn’t matter as long we stay true to our beliefs and behave with integrity. It’s what Mum says every day.”

“Core affiliation?” Hermione sounded bewildered and he couldn’t blame the Muggleborn for her ignorance.

“I’ll explain later. Let’s help Nev first.”

“Thank you, Henry,” Neville dashed to the corridors and the newly formed gang followed suit.

“I would’ve asked Fred or George for help. But I know they’ll just make things worse,” Ron said apologetically.

“It’s alright,” Neville smiled.

“I believe we reached the Slytherin section,” Hermione whispered and froze and Henry couldn’t blame her.

Awareness seemed to settle on them as they noticed the way the students wearing green ties were carrying themselves.

There was no boisterous noises, no unnecessary motions or ungraceful behaviour. Everyone seemed absorbed in whatever they were doing.

“Well, I—“ Henry looked around and his eyes widened when two very similar-looking girls headed their way.

“Oh joy. What do we have here? Some stray little firsties?” The first girl snickered.

“Don’t be mean, Sister Mine. Let’s find out first what these kids are doing here,” the second grinned widely.

“We’re not kids,” Ron huffed indignantly.

“Let’s see, red hair, a face full of freckles, a Weasley perhaps? Don’t tell me you’re related to Percival,” the first girl feigned a gasp.

“He’s my brother,” Ron growled.

“Oh. That boy doesn’t have a life. I pity whoever is related to him. So boring and….lacklustre,”

Henry knew he had to intervene before it was too late.

“Miss?”

“Finally…yes? I’m Flora Carrow and this charming lady is my twin, Hestia.”

Ron and Neville gasped and Henry gave them a sidelong glare.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Carrow. I’m looking for my brother, he’s a Slytherin,” Henry channelled every bit of confidence he possessed.

“Really? What’s his name?” The second girl, Hestia, tilted her head sideways.

“Hadrian, my brother is Hadrian Potter-Black,”

The two girls froze and they seemed to ponder what to do next.

“What’s going on here?” 

Henry sighed in relief when he recognized the new arrival.

“Hadrian… your brother is looking for you,” Flora lowered her gaze and Henry noticed her shaking hand.

“Really?”

Everyone stared in collective surprise as Hadrian, flanked by what he supposed were his best friends emerged from a nearby compartment.

There was another brunette to his right, with stormy grey eyes. The blood guy taking his left smirked as he noticed the way they stilled.

The third guy, a very tall one with bland features narrowed his eyes and raked them with merciless brown eyes.

“This…” He heard Hermione’s gasp but didn’t pay her any attention.

Something was strange, utterly strange.

The way the girls and then…the guys shadowed his brother as if they were protecting him…

Amid the tense silence that followed, his eyes searched Harry’s face but he found... nothing.

Harry’s mask was firmly in place. His usually kind eyes were two chunks of unbending viridian and he understood there and then what Harry meant the other night.

“Har—I mean Hadrian, Neville lost Trevor. We need your help,” Henry parried off his thoughts with a pointed glance at Harry’s chest.

His brother seemed to sense his unease.

“You should pay more attention to your pet, Neville. He’s your responsibility,” Harry chided coolly.

“Sorry,” Neville dropped his head in shame.

With a simple flick of his wand, Harry summoned a dazed Trevor.

“Trevor!” Neville shouted and hugged his toad to his chest.

“Let’s go back to our section!” Hermione whisper-shouted, tugging at his sleeve.

“We’ll take our leave, then. See you later,” Henry plastered a fake smile over his lips and without waiting, dragged his friends back to the compartment on the other end of the train.

He couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched all the while he walked away.

It seemed he didn’t know everything about his brother like he so stupidly believed.

Henry glanced around the Great Hall, his eyes processing as many details as he could.

He heard stories about Hogwarts before but the real thing exceeded his imagination.

He waited patiently as his yearmates got sorted.

His eyes strayed again to the fourth table.

Harry was sitting in the middle, flanked by the same guys and girls. It seemed like what he noticed earlier wasn’t a coincidence.

There seemed to be some kind of mutual agreement to act that way.

He wasn’t well versed in Pureblood Politics or House Politics for that matter, but Harry somehow held a great amount of power in House Slytherin.

Their eyes clashed suddenly. Harry’s softened and regarded him with amused exasperation.

He shrugged indignantly and narrowed his eyes.

It wasn’t his fault that his brother hid crucial information from him.

“Potter, Henry,” Professor McGonagall called.

“Let the fun begin,” he muttered under his breath ignoring the gasps that filled the Hall.

The visceral fury that used to fill him whenever people stared impudently every time he was in public faded to the back of his mind giving place to his eagerness to get sorted.

The large Hat slid over his eyes and he smiled.

“What do we have here? Another Potter. Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr Henry Potter.”

“Thank you, Hat,” he replied.

“You carry Godric’s blood in your veins so you’re allowed to get my real name. Call me Sage. Where shall I put you? With your brother maybe? I see a great deal of cunning in your head, Henry. People seem to forget that you and Hadrian are cut from the same cloth. You can do well in Slytherin,” Sage sounded amused.

Henry shook his head frenetically. “As much as I’d like to join Harry, I can’t do this to Dad. He can’t handle the shock of two Slytherin sons.”

“Aren’t you a sneaky one, little Potter,” Sage chuckled.

“I want to make my parents and my brother proud. I am a Potter and House Gryffindor is where I belong,” he clenched his hand and shut his eyes tight.

Hadrian might be part Black but he was a fully-blooded Potter and he would follow in his ancestors’ footsteps.

“You are a Potter indeed. Godric won’t forgive me if I deny his House another one of his blood. GRYFFINDOR!”

For a few stunned seconds, the Great Hall stilled then deafening applause exploded.

Henry joined Hermione and Neville who were waiting for him.

He accepted congratulations and returned kind words while his heart bit madly.

He started to get a prickle of unease and his eyes flew to the high dais.

A greasy-haired man, he recognized as Snape, was examining him.

His hand shot to his forehead when he was hit by a wave of sudden pain.

“Henry?” Neville asked.

“I’m fine, just fine,” he lied through his clenched teeth and watched as Ron hurried to join them.

When he looked in his brother’s direction, he gritted his teeth.

Harry noticed his discomfort.

His brother's iridescent eyes were flashing with barely contained fury.

Heiress Daphne Cynthia Greengrass studied the Prefect leading them toward the common room.

“I can’t believe we’re in the same House,” Tracy whispered happily.

She nodded and didn’t pay much attention to the rest of her best friends’ words.

Her mind was miles away—in Greengrass Manor with the sister she left this morning.

Being born in September, she was granted the chance to spend another year with Astoria, a chance she was tremendously thankful for.

However, parting with her sister was never going to be an easy task.

The Greengrass Blood Malediction picked up Astoria as her next target and veiled their lives with a perpetual shadow.

Astoria was…fragile and sickly and despite their wealth and connections, Cyrill and Cynthia Greengrass knew that there was no cure.

Her sister’s future was in a word…uncertain.

Anger was a hateful buzz in her head, one that turned her bitter and cold.

She blamed The Fates for playing with her precious sister’s life and ruining every chance she had at a happy ending.

Her icy blue eyes narrowed when the Prefect announced the password.

The first years followed obediently and waited for whatever their seniors planned for them.

She recognized most of her yearmates.

There was Draco Malfoy, a pompous blond she was used to ignoring whenever they were in close vicinity.

Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Milicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were the children of Death Eaters. Her father warned her of the danger of associating with them.

House Greengrass was Neutral. They took no part in wars; their gift lay in their green thumb and the priceless services they offered to Wizarding Britain.

She noticed the dark-skinned guy standing alone. Blaise Zabini. His mother was a Potion Mistress and rumours reported that she was the cause behind her seven husbands’ unfortunate demise.

“Professor Snape will have a word with you,” Prefect Moon said calmly.

The youngest Potion Master in history swept in like a raven’s wing and uttered a few veiled threats she barely paid attention to.

She was tired, her mind no longer able to puzzle over the hidden meanings behind the words of the Head of her House.

Nevertheless, she held her ground and her hard, icy eyes gave out nothing.

Finally, Severus Snape left.

Daphne cheered inwardly and was about to leave when the prefect ordered. “Wait. You’re not allowed to leave yet. You’ll get the honour of being introduced to the Slytherin Court,” Moon’s grin was shark-like.

“The C—Court?” Tracy whispered.

“Yes, the Court Davis. It’s where only the Elite are allowed,” Draco Malfoy boasted, looking down his nose at her friend.

“Watch your words, Malfoy,” Daphne warned coldly.

“Why? I’m merely stating the truth,” he stressed out, his twinkling silver eyes mocking her friend.

“I’d watch my mouth if I were you, Malfoy.” A blue-eyed blond—she recognized as Adrian Pucey—smirked.

His words caused Draco to go motionless.

“Don’t make careless statements unless you’re willing to stand by them,” Pucey drawled lazily. “Our King doesn’t appreciate carelessness.”

“The King?” Nott repeated.

“Yes, our King. But first, greet the Court,” Pucey winked then took a seat next to the other eight students that materialized out of thin air and occupied the nine seats facing the fireplace.

Daphne recognized most of them. Heir Cassius Warrington, The Carrow Twins, Heir Flint, Heir Higgs, Heir Montague, Heir Vaisey…

The guy in the middle—who was laying his head carelessly on the comfortable seat—opened his eyes abruptly and Daphne’s heart jolted the moment their gazes met.

Looking into his emerald green eyes felt like drowning. It unsettled her and threatened her unrelenting, faultless mask.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one unnerved by the hard, merciless eyes studying the newcomers thoroughly.

“Adrian is right, cousin mine,” the ebony-haired guy spoke tonelessly but Daphne heard the censor, the command and the judgment in every word.

“My Merlin, he’s…look at him...” Tracy breathed shakily.

“Thank you, my dear Liege and Master,” Adrian Pucey bowed.

“Enough with the theatrics, Adrian. Let the King talk,” Cassius Warrington chided icily.

‘’I won’t keep our new housemates waiting for long,’’ the guy stood up slowly and straightened his already perfect robes.

“I am Heir Hadrian Potter-Black and I am the King of this Court. If you want to survive in my House, you’d better forget whatever nonsense you were taught before coming here. We accept no bigotry. We allow no childish behaviour or malicious intentions. Words like Mudblood are a definite no and you’ll get punished severely if you’re caught using them. My mother is a Muggleborn and I’m proud to be called her son,”

Hadrian’s ruthless eyes settled on Draco.

“Heed my warning and you’ll enjoy peaceful years in this school. And...Always remember, in this House my word is law and as such, it's beyond contestation.”

Chapter Text

November 1991

Hadrian pried his fingers off the edge stone and turned to face his brother.

“Brat,” he said, his voice imbued with the tenderness he felt for him. “We’ve been through this more than either of us can count. You know my duties. You also know that I can’t act all loving and carefree when in public.”

Henry crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the sky, seeming deep in thought.   

The sky blazed with stars. Countless thousands shone like diamonds stitched into the dark fabric of the heavens. 

Hadrian hadn’t noticed all these stars last night or any of the nights he met with Henry.

Perhaps he’s been too busy to pay them any heed for he didn’t expect the little troublemaker to confront him about his conduct while in school and demand an explanation so soon.

It seemed Hadrian forgot that Henry was a Gryffindor at heart. He never shied away from expressing his feelings and asking for answers, answers he could not provide if he wanted to protect him.

“You’re forgetting what you taught me,” Henry said coolly, his eyes more green than hazel and sparkling with pride. “There are no secrets between us, you said so yourself. I can protect myself. I’m not a child anymore.

“Henry…” Hadrian caressed Hedwig’s wing, urging her to join the other owls and leave his side.

“I’ve never agreed to this madness. I must insist that you be honest with me,’’ Henry blurted out.

“I’m always honest with you,” Hadrian sighed.

“So why are we holding secret meetings in the Owlery minutes away from curfew? You’re my brother and interacting with you should be considered normal.”

“I’m doing it for you,” Hadrian said softly while a breeze blew his dark hair across his face.

Hadrian closed his eyes tightly and inhaled.

He would rather die than lose his brother. No way! He was the master of his ship and he liked it that way.

He was prepared for this since the moment he stepped into Hogwarts, confident in his prowess and abilities. But he knew that Henry wouldn’t let it slide.

“Why?” Henry’s voice was so small it hurt like a physical blow.

“Because you’re in danger,” he said, looking off into the darkness with a sigh. “You’ve been in danger since you left the Manor’s wards. I’ve been preparing for this day for three years. I squashed all resistance and destroyed my opposition. Yes, you’re right. I’m ruling House Slytherin from the shadows but what else can I do? I had to do it because I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Henry sniffed and looked away, mostly to keep him from seeing the satisfaction in his eyes when he got what he wanted. 

Hadrian saw it anyway.

The little brat was way sneakier than expected. 

“Thank you for being honest with me. But who said I wasn’t aware of all this? My scar…” Henry bit his lower and the tapping of his dragon hide boots grew quicker.

It was a quirk he did instinctively whenever he was in great distress.

Hadrian’s eyes narrowed on Henry’s bent head. 

“Henry? I believe you were going to tell me something,” he raised a brow and quirked his mouth when the brat glared at the ground.

“It’s not fair. You’re not telling me everything,” he pushed off the wall and flipped his wand in his hand, caught it by the handle and seemed entranced by the red sparks that left it.

“I’ll tell you whatever you need when you’re ready. Now, please spill it out.”

Their eyes met, locked in a moment of a stubborn challenge and trying to guess who would yield first.

Hadrian barely held his grin. He strode forward slowly and reached for Henry, grasping his collar.

Carefully, he retrieved the necklace he gifted him years ago and grazed his fingers over the small ruby.

It pulsed with repressed power, the blood in its nub answering to its owner.

“Tell me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you try to avoid Snape. Is he bothering you?” he said in a soothing voice looking into his brother’s troubled eyes and momentarily mesmerized by the extraordinary power, glowing like a flame of will.

While he inherited Lily’s eyes, Henry inherited the Potters' eyes. The same hazel orbs James and Fleamont had.

Henry caught his wrist and inhaled deeply.

“It’s my scar, Harry. It has been hurting since I started school. It gets worse whenever I’m in the Great Hall taking my meals or…”

Henry seemed to pluck his courage and Hadrian did his best to stomp on the rage that wanted an out.

The vindictive Black blood filling his veins wanted to lash out and destroy everything in close vicinity.

It wanted to demolish whoever dared threaten his brother.

He quirked a sceptical brow and Henry drew an inward sigh. “You’re too nosy for a Slytherin,” he mumbled. “Fine, sometimes it prickles when I’m in Defense.”

“You mean DADA?”

“Yes. I mean you can’t believe that Professor Quirell is a threat, right? He’s a blabbering fool.’’ Henry scoffed but Hadrian clenched his jaw.

There was something suspicious about the previous Muggle Studies Professor. Something happened the previous summer that reduced him to a stuttering halfwit.

He wasn’t buying the encounter with the Vampire's nonsense.

Vampires were chary of interacting with Wixen. They protected their privacy like nestling Dragons protected their eggs and were seldom seen outside of their Covens.

He took Henry by the elbow and ushered him toward the stairs. “Remain on your guard at all times and I’ll look into it. I don’t believe it’s Snape’s doing. Despite his bitterness, he would never harm you.”

“But…you haven’t seen him during Potions class! He wouldn’t even let me answer properly,” Henry said incredulously and Hadrian cut a glance at him.

“Was he that bad?”

“Yes. I knew all the answers but he wouldn’t give me a chance. When I tried to help Nev, he accused me of making my friend look bad. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s awful.”

Hadrian’s eyes darkened. “I heard that he used to be Mother’s best friend but something happened during their fifth year. Nevertheless, he has no right to abuse his power or treat you unfairly.”

Henry nodded. “I wish I don’t have to take his classes. I don’t need them anyway, Mum made sure I know my potions by heart.”

Hadrian wiped his brow and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to the bottom of this. I have my suspicions and I believe it’s time I dig deeper.”

“Thank you,” Henry grinned widely.

“Let’s go. I don’t want to be caught by the Prefects.”

Henry snorted. “As if they would dare touch you.”

Hadrian chuckled but his talk with Henry raised many a question.

He had learned since Arcturus started teaching him to control his temper and bury his fear deep. It would do him no good to stir the ashes and find an ember of something so painful.

He couldn’t let his magic wander deeper into the abyss, where he could lose himself to it.

He knew the risk of embracing his Black half wholly. The Dark magic could consume him and even as the future Lord, he wouldn’t be spared the Black Madness.

But he had to understand why Snape was acting like a prat.

And he had to find out what was causing Henry’s headaches.

“Harry?” Henry’s voice jarred him back to the present. “Thank you for today, I needed this talk.”

He reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately. “I’m always here for you. Never forget that.”

“What?” Hadrian seethed barely able to believe what Cassius reported.

“Your brother was picked up as the new Gryffindor Seeker,” Cassius sighed.

“But how?”

“It seems Dear Draco stole Longbottom’s Remembrall. Somehow it led to him challenging Henry’s flying prowess and they faced off. Henry managed to catch the Remembrall in a daredevil swoop that McGonagall witnessed. She picked him up as the next Gryffindor Seeker right away,” Cassius sniffed.

Hadrian smirked. “You shouldn’t be surprised; he’s my brother and a Potter at that.”

“It’s unfair,” Cassius lifted an eyebrow. “He’s the youngest Seeker in a century. He didn’t even need a trial.”

“Henry has always been a gifted flyer. It doesn’t mean that this new development will hurt our winning streak. The cup is ours.”

“I believe we’ll see more impressive moves this season,” Cassius shook his head. “Just make sure you score. I can’t take Marcus’ grumbling if we lose to Wood.”

“Don’t worry, Marcus will be pleased,” Hadrian promised. “And I think Malfoy needs a word. I can’t let this transgression slide.”

“He’s the most troublesome firstie. The rest are keeping to themselves mostly.”

“We’ll keep watching them anyway. We have many Death Eaters’ offspring this year.”

“Don’t worry, they have been watched since the sorting. We won’t allow any surprises,” Cassius said with a spark in his eyes.

Hadrian nodded but he was marvelling at how thoroughly his best friend and right hand planned everything out.

The Forbidden Forest was alive with the magic of the different creatures that inhabited it.

Daphne trudged onward with a lowered head, thinking about the last letter she received from home. 

She didn’t need to see where she was going. She practised this path every morning before classes started.

As a Greengrass, she needed contact with nature steadily. The Greengrasses descended from Earth Elementals and the tether that linked their magic to greenery was older than time.

The calls of raptors and Hippogriffs in the distance soothed her troubled mind and spurred her to inhale deeply, filling her starved lungs with fresh air.

How she wished she could put the Forbidden Forest’s beauty to music and play through her fingers what she saw, what only a few were blessed enough to see.

But that would be impossible. Nothing she could compose could possibly match the beauty and grandeur that stretched around her.

How small she felt—one young witch in the midst of an endless forest beneath the stretching blue sky. 

The feeling did not leave her dispirited but was instead strangely comforting, for if she was small then her troubles, too, were of little import.

Yet, all that magnificence couldn’t soothe her soul fully. The Greengrass Blood Curse wouldn’t allow it.

She lamented what was she to do? She was utterly helpless.

Astoria’s health deteriorated again and the Healers advised them to prepare for the worse.

Her sister’s welfare was a constant distraction that leapt into her thoughts more than once a day.

The image of the vivid girl laying helplessly on her bed was a torment she wasn’t sure she could handle anymore.

Daphne stepped out into a thick branch and turned, gazing at the horde of Centaurs carrying quivers of arrows and bows on their broad shoulders and galloping away.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and closed her eyes. She had to persevere. She was Heiress Greengrass, her family’s only hope.

Failure was not an option.

Someone’s steps landed on a lower branch making it snap. Daphne paused and turned over.

“Good morning,” Tracy smiled sweetly.

“Were you following me?” she was tempted to hex her best friend.

She knew she worried about her, but she didn’t need a babysitter. She could take care of herself.

“Of course I was. Everyone is heading to the Great Hall for breakfast and I don’t want your absence to be noticed,” Tracy shrugged her shoulders. 

Daphne sighed.

The Slytherin Court’s rule was in a word…inexorable.

Potter-Black and his friends had authority over all aspects of life in House Slytherin. There was no room for mistakes.

Daphne didn’t know how to feel about the unexpected surprise.

Of course, she knew about The Court even before starting Hogwarts. Her parents were Slytherin, too. Yet she hadn’t expected the King to be a Half-Blood and a fourth year at that.

Rumours were encompassing Potter-Black, whispers that marvelled at the extent of his knowledge and his proficiency with a wand.

Daphne didn’t get the chance to see it for herself, however, there was an aura of danger, of unrelenting darkness cloaking him.

Into the unfathomable depths of his eyes, there was a coldness that disturbed her, making her look away and sever the connection.

She wasn’t alone. Even the seventh years steered away from his path, giving him absolute power over them.

“How will Henry Potter fare today? Malfoy won’t stop talking about the upcoming match,” Tracy whined, dragging her toward the Great Hall.

“He’s a pampered prat,” Daphne growled. She was tempted to curse Malfoy and shut him for good.

“I can’t stand him,” Tracy moaned. “Not to mention his obsession with Potter.”

“He’s disgracing House Slytherin with every word that leaves his big mouth,” Daphne huffed. “It won’t be long before Potter-Black confronts him.”

Tracy chuckled, her blue eyes twinkling with delight. “Oh, I can’t wait for Potter-Black to catch him. He’s extremely protective of his brother.”

Noticing her slip, Tracy tossed an arm around her shoulder and apologized gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

Daphne held up her hand. “It’s fine. You don’t need to apologize.”

Her friend was vibrantly alive and seldom filtered her thoughts. But she was her greatest support and the only one she trusted with her troubles.

“Let’s hurry,” Daphne pressed her lips together and all traces of congeniality left her features.

Never would she allow strangers to glimpse behind her mask.

Never would she show weakness in public.

Henry popped a small bit of toast in his mouth and smiled as Percy Weasley complained about the special treatment Hadrian was given.

“Seriously, no one can be that good. Are you sure he’s not talking extra classes on the holidays?”

Henry snorted. “Of course not. Hadrian is special and you’d better forget about this stupid competition.”

“We’ll see about that,” Percy’s eyes narrowed on the Slytherin table before he stood and joined his friends.

“He’s unbelievable,” Ron piled up ketchup on his sausage, making everyone wince.

“He’s been obsessed with your brother since his first year. If I didn’t know better—“ Geroge chirped.

“Don’t let him hear you out, brother mine,” Fred rolled his eyes. “We won’t see the end of it.”

Henry chuckled. “What about Hadrian?”

“I’m not sure he knows about poor Percival’s existence. He hardly ever interacts with Gryffindors.” Angelina sighed.

“And it’s bad because?” George prompted with twinkling eyes.

A wash of pink coloured Angelina’s cheeks and Henry wanted to gauge his eyes out.

He noticed the way girls eyed his brother. Suffered through the starry eyes, the wistful moans and the endless interrogations for months.

“Let’s head out.” Everyone groaned as Oliver Wood clapped his hands, throwing a heated glare at Marcus Flint.

“Potter, remember—“ he started.

“I know!” Henry shouted. “I know. Don’t worry, we’ll win. I won’t let my family ties stand in the way of our House’s victory.”

“Good lad,” Wood grinned.

“Merlin,” Neville murmured under his breath. 

Henry winked. “It’s the first time I’m playing against Hadrian publicly. I’ll make him pay for the last time.”

Neville didn’t seem convinced. His wide eyes steered toward the Slytherin table before he plastered a wide smile over his lips.

Henry was aware of his brother’s talent. Like their father, he was a gifted Chaser.

He was the youngest Seeker in a century though and he’d show him today.

“And the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, again,” Lee Jordan groaned and Hadrian smirked.

“Over here!” Cassius shouted and without thinking, he dived out and threw it.

Cassius sped off toward the goalposts but was blocked by Weasley’s Bludger.

“Nice shot Fred!” Jordan cheered.

Hadrian’s eyes narrowed on Johnson. He gave Adrian a meaningful look and he nodded.

His Bludger made the Gryffindor Chaser lose her balance and the Quaffle in the meanwhile.

“Move there!” Wood’s shout was deafening despite the overflowing stands.

Hadrian huffed and pelted toward the Quaffle. Like a flash, he flew toward the second goalpost and scored.

“And Slytherin scores. 100-40 for Slytherin, well played Potter-Black. If it wasn’t for Flint’s under…”

“Lee!” McGonagall hissed.

“Come on, Professor. Haven’t you seen….”

Hadrian tuned him out and hurtled toward Spinnet.

He gave her a lopsided grin and while her eyes widened and she blushed to her roots, the Quaffle hung in midair.

Marcus put an extra spurt of speed and caught it.

Cheers erupted from the Slytherin stands when he scored.

His eyes went to the Professors' section and his heart fluttered when his father gave him thumbs up.

He was attending the match with his mother, Sirius and Remus, cheering for their two sons.

Hadrian dodged another Bludger that went spinning dangerously past his head.

Fred Weasley winked. The twins were feral opponents he couldn’t ignore if he didn’t want to end up knocked out.

“And Alicia loses the Quaffle again. If it wasn’t for Captain Flint’s very clean pl…Wait a moment...What’s going on with Henry Potter?”

The words sent a rush of dread down Hadrian’s back.

He gripped his broom tightly and steered it the other way.

Henry’s broom was completely out of control. It seemed as though it was trying to buck him off.

Suddenly, it made a violent swishing move that almost unsettled him.

“Henry!” he heard his mother’s anguished howl but his eyes remained glued to the frightening sight.

“Hadrian…” Adrian hissed. “Your brother’s broom is behaving strangely.”

“I know. I have to catch him before he falls.”

“But you can’t use your wand. It’s too dangerous,” Cassius advised.

Hadrian wanted to growl. Cassius was right; he couldn’t risk Henry’s safety.

His eyes went to his parents again and a visceral fury took hold of him when he beheld their pale faces.

His intuition warned that there was something fishy about the situation.

His nostrils flared all of a sudden. Snape and Quirell had their eyes fixed on Henry. Both were muttering under their breath.

He stored the bit of information for later, already suspecting the perpetrator, and sped toward Henry.

He manoeuvred his broom until he was flying a few feet under him. Henry’s broom jerked and he swung off it.

“Henry!” Hadrian called. “Jump.”

Henry looked down at him and his trance shattered. The fear in his eyes slew him.

“Jump, I’ll catch you,” he called at the top of his voice.

“But…” Henry whimpered.

“I’ll catch you, trust me,” Hadrian pleaded with his eyes.

Henry nodded once and with predatory dominance, Hadrian willed his broom to remain still. His eyes took on the moment Henry let go.

The action was met with stunned silence. It was quiet as a heart that beat no more.

Hadrian opened his arms wide and clutched Henry with a death grip. 

Henry blinked slowly, looking around and Hadrian caught his chin in his fingers and angled his head to examine his face.

“You’re safe,” the tenderness in his voice pulled Henry’s eyes back to him; shock and relief filling them.

Furry, anguish and fear emanated from Hadrian's every pore. The darkness that was always there wanted to be set free.

“Harry! The snitch,” Henry’s eyes were riveted to the blur of gold that zipped past them.

There was a shadow in Henry’s expressive eyes. 

Finally, he took a glimpse of the horrible truth, the one they tried to spare him for years.

It didn’t mean that he’d let it ruin Henry’s school years.

Hadrian ran his fingers lightly over his brother’s arm and whispered. “I’m sorry, brat. But we win.”

Henry gasped and Hadrian grinned as Jordan moaned. “Bloody Hell! Higgs caught the snitch, Slytherin wins….again.”

Chapter Text

November 1991

It was hard to believe the amount of danger his sons were already exposed to but James should have prepared himself for what Henry’s enrollment in Hogwarts entailed.

So sinful or not, he prayed that whoever almost caused Henry’s death that day paid for his deed.

He would gladly break the bastard’s neck if it meant protecting his son from whoever wanted to see him harmed.

Lily was reading an ancient Charms book, looking for the spell that caused Henry’s broom to act strangely.

Sirius was leaning on the chair facing him, his grey eyes looking at the flames unseeingly.

James studied his face, gauging his reaction to what transpired that afternoon. Whenever something happened to the kids, Sirius was found anxiously fussing and cursing.

That night, however, he was silent. Too silent for James’ liking.

“Padfoot?” James started.

Sirius’ gaze lifted to him and he could tell right away that whatever news he learnt were not good.

His face was too pale and his expressive eyes had lost their brightness.

It was a look that struck fear in James’ heart and provoked concern.

He knew that look well, as he was familiar with the loving, great friend and father beneath the gruff Lord Black’s exterior.

It reminded him of the time they were sixteen and Sirius ran away from his Grimmauld Place, almost losing his mind and his link to the Ancestral House.

“The old fox is sick,” Sirius clutched the arm of the chair upon which he sat; the Griffin’s carving biting into his palm.

James felt a flash of sympathy and…fear. He knew how much Hadrian cherished Arcturus, how much he respected the previous Lord Black and sought his advice.

In a way, Arcturus filled the gap Fleamont’s death left.

The sarcastic old man was a great mentor that deplored ignorance and frailty and insisted that every Heir of his House must be well educated and stripped from any weakness his enemies could exploit later.

James couldn't help but admit that Arcturus was the one that shaped Hadrian’s personality and made him a stellar young wizard.

He was the one that added that bit of coldness and viciousness that characterized all members of the Black family.

Lily blinked and it took her a moment to understand what Sirius had said.

“Even from his sickbed, the scourge refuses to admit that he’s months away from embracing Death,” Sirius said disgustingly but he couldn’t fool James, he knew him so well. “I wonder if he believes himself to be the second coming of Merlin. He’s but an old fart.”

Sirius slammed his fist down the table beside him, sending Firewhisky sloshing from his glass.

Lily stood hurriedly and hugged their friend. her green eyes were watery and sad. “It’s alright, Sirius. You’re not alone. We’ll be there with you when the time comes. You're allowed to worry and cry and vent.”

“But…” Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. “He won’t let me tell Hadrian and you know how much he’s attached him, Merlin knows why. And then…you saw what happened today. It has started, Lily. The boys are already in danger. The fool can’t run away now, Hadrian needs him. I…Maybe I'll need his advice later.”

Dread clutched James’ chest but he fought back the unwelcome feeling. His proud friend and brother didn’t need to be coddled and told lies.

So, instead of comforting him, he forced a teasing smile on his face. “I thought you couldn’t wait to get rid of him. He’s been nagging you for years and pointing at your imperfections.”

For a moment he feared his words had not penetrated, but slowly the haze of fear and grief started to dissipate from Sirius'stormy eyes.

When Padfoot glared at him, he saw his old friend: the cheerful and reckless Sirius Black that would rather face a nesting dragon than admit to a weakness.

Innocently, he added. “Who could’ve guessed how much you love Arcturus with the amount of whining and cursing you’ve been giving us headaches with for years.”

Sirius let out a loud snort. “You’re a bastard, Prongs. Don’t you dare accuse me of such blasphemy. Merlin knows the old fox would have the last laugh if he hears you,” he shook his head and patted Lily’s arm, telling her silently that he was better.

She kissed his forehead and then winked at James. “You have nothing to fear. I’m sure that Arcturus knows,” she snickered.

Sirius gasped. “Lily!” then to James he hissed. “Look at what you’ve done. You ruined Perfect Miss Evans with your jokes and half-truths.”

Lily dimpled with pleasure. “Why, thank you, Sirius. But so you know, I’m still perfect.”

The three friends burst out laughing, forgetting momentarily about what the future held for their family.

The apoplectic rage that simmered under his skin rivalling in its hotness the breath of a thunderous Chimera was something Hadrian couldn’t prevent.

Anger was the only feeling he could summon if he wanted to keep his sanity.

He had almost lost his brother and the perpetrator was closer than predicted.

“Whoever did this is bolder than expected,” Cassius said disgustedly.

“Sweet Salazar, he’s dauntless I’ll give him that. If I were him, I’d have cornered my prey in a secluded corridor instead,” Flora snorted.

Adrian rolled his eyes. “We’re not in the mood for your murder plots, Flora. There’s an intruder in Hogwarts and we have to catch him at once.”

Graham cleared his throat. Being the broody, silent one Hadrian has always valued his input. “But we should be thankful for his recklessness because he revealed himself before it was too late.”

Cassius nodded. “You’re right, mate. I think that his arrogance made him commit this deadly mistake.”

“And as a proud snake, we shall start the hunt,” Hestia clapped her hands with so much enthusiasm.

Sensing the familiar Aura of the Black Magic, Hadrian’s anger returned and his eyes narrowed.

He leaned back in his chair and waited patiently.

“My Merlin,” Marcus sighed. “I’m knackered so please, make it quick.”

“I can’t promise that but I’ll try,” Hadrian smiled tightly.

The first years were returning from the library, chatting and discussing their classes, the last Quidditch match and the undone homework.

Hadrian’s eyes veered toward the flash of silver-blond hair and his expression hardened.

There was nothing reproachful in what he planned but he felt a small twinge of guilt nonetheless. 

Draco was in a way his responsibility, his ward and as an older wizard it was his duty to guide him.

Persuading him might have been made easier though had he not been tainted by Lucius Malfoy’s filthy beliefs.

Remembering the slippery Death Eater served as the last push he needed to give Draco a lesson he needed if they had any hope of redeeming him.

Looking forward to the confrontation he knew was about to commence, Cassius relaxed on his chair and met Draco’s perturbed gaze with a mildly amused one of his own.

Among all The Court members, the Warrington Heir was his closest friend. He was always attuned to his mood swings and never failed to understand him.

“Leave the common room. Malfoy, stay,” Hadrian ordered succinctly. His voice was a drawn sword ready to slice.

Eyes snapped open and faces paled. As the King, he was known for his mild temper, he solely got angry or lost his temper.

“But—‘’ Draco stuttered, his eyes pleading with his yearmates to land him a helping hand.

Parkinson dragged Goyle and Crabbe by the arms begrudgingly, Nott and Zabini shrugged and took the stairs at once.

However, Hadrian noticed the flush of pleasure on Davis’ face. She whispered something to a stoic Greengrass then smiled.

Even though he didn’t interact much with the first years, Hadrian had noticed how cool the Greengrass Heiress was.

She seldom smiled or interacted with other students other than Davis, Zabini and Nott.

Something seemed to be occupying her mind at all times, which made him wonder if she was uncomfortable in their House.

The two girls left in a swash of robes and all that remained was a pale Draco Malfoy cornered by the King, his right hand and his most trusted.

“Draco, do you know why I singled you out?” Hadrian tried, giving him a tiny chance.

“I—I have no idea. I did nothing wrong,” Draco braved out, lifting his chin defiantly.

“Merlin…” Marcus muttered under his breath.

Hadrian waited, no response just a slightly amused expression. When the blond started squirming under his scrutiny, he smiled.

“My father will—“ Draco tried.

“He won’t,” Hadrian finally stood. “Your father has no power here. He’s nothing but a vile man and a shameless wizard who wouldn’t take responsibility for his hideous actions.”

“You—how dare you…” Draco shouted, forgetting momentarily where he was.

Like a viper used to sizing its prey before it attacked, Hadrian stared down at him.

Inches from Draco’s face, Hadrian leaned gracefully. “I am going to give you a chance; just one chance and you would better use it with care. Despite your shortcomings, you are my blood and family is everything to me.”

Draco’s eyes widened with fear and wonder.

“Step out from your father’s shadow and try to think for yourself. You are not compelled to obey him when he’s leading you astray. You are Draco Malfoy, your own person and the future Lord of your House. Are you going to remain a puppet for the rest of your life?”

Draco opened his mouth like a fish but nothing came out.

“Your conduct is not befitting of a well-mannered wizard, of someone of your status. You take pleasure in mocking and belittling those you consider weaker. You embrace Pureblood Supremacy and forget what the previous Wizarding War had done to our family, how we lost Regulus and how your dear Father barely escaped Azkaban. Are you ready to take this path? Are you ready to forsake the right way and become a follower instead of a master of your fate? Is this what you want Draco?” The finality of his words and the flat tone in which he spoke were like a Severing Charm, sharp and straight to the point.

Then to accentuate his words, he laid his left hand on a captivated Draco’s shoulder.

His Heir Black ring gleamed and Draco hissed.

The vicious Black Magic recognized him and in a way, reminded him which family he belonged to.

Slowly, Hadrian raised his hand and as if he had been holding his breath the entire time, Draco trembled and clenched his teeth.

“This is your last warning. Never forget you’re part Black and as such, you belong to my House. You can leave now,” Hadrian said flatly.

“And you’d better reflect on these words, Malfoy,” Cassius interjected. “You won’t be given this chance again and we'll be watching you and assessing your progress.”

Draco nodded. Without a look back, still pale and trembling, he trudged up the stairs to his room the deadly, unspoken promises that permeated the air echoing in his ears.

Hadrian’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he retreated soundlessly.

He hugged the Invisibility Cloak closer to his body and took careful steps toward the dungeons.

“Why…I’d never…” Cassius shook his head and he mentioned for him to wait.

When they left the third floor, he took the Cloak off and put it back in his pocket.

“He’s been sniffing around the trapdoor for a week. He’s looking for a way to neutralize the three-headed dog,” Hadrian massaged his temples with frustration.

Cassius ran a hand through his hair. “How dare the old coot bring something dangerous to Hogwarts? Doesn’t he know that his little warning did nothing but encourage everyone to have a look?”

“The right question is who’s pretending to be Quirrell? You’ve heard him spouting obscenities, he wasn’t stuttering.”

“You mean—“ Cassius sighed. “I noticed something uncanny about his Aura. It’s in a way, tainted and darker than last year.”

Being a Warrington, Cassius could sense Auras and recognize anyone by their distinctive signature.

‘’Henry is uncomfortable in his presence, too. Something is not adding up. We have to monitor him at all times. Failure is not an option,” Hadrian gritted his teeth.

Cassius' grey eyes gentled and he patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll abort any plan to harm your brother or put anyone’s safety in jeopardy.”

“You’ve been having my back since we met on the train,” Hadrian sighed. “You’re the best mate a wizard could wish for.”

“And you’d better never forget that Heir Potter-Black,” Cassius smirked.

At the same time it took him to blink, the egg split open.

The dark-blue baby dragon flopped onto the table and Neville gasped. “It’s—this is a…a…”

“A baby Norwegian Ridgeback, ‘’ Ron supplied helpfully.

“But Hagrid! It’s too dangerous,” Hermione said. “They grow too fast and if anyone finds out about this, you’ll get in trouble.”

“She’s right, Hagrid,” Henry nodded, his eyes glued to the tiny creature. “We have to take him to a safe place,”

“But…Norbert is small and defendless. I can’t dump him,” Hagrid sniffed.

“No one mentioned dumping the dragon. How about we contact Charlie? He started taking his Dragonist Apprenticeship in Romania,” Ron suggested.

Henry tilted his head, looking at the fourth member of the Golden Foursome.

Since that talk on the train months ago, Ron seemed to turn over a new leaf.

He didn’t like Slytherins still and tried to interact with them as little as possible.

His quarrels with Malfoy were always explosive and ended with wands pointed at each other's throat.

Sometimes, he expressed how scary Hadrian looked but….he was trying and in Henry’s book, it was more than enough.

He understood that it wasn’t easy to let go of ideas ingrained into him since he was a kid.

His family had suffered a lot because of prejudice and Pureblood bigotry, their financial situation didn’t help either but Henry wouldn’t lose hope.

He wished that his new friend would let go of the shackles holding him back and become his own wizard, just like the twins.

“Charlie? It sounds like a sound solution to this problem. Let’s contact him at once. Ares needs a long flight to stretch his wings as well,” Henry smirked and the four friends grinned.

Hagrid, however, didn’t seem pleased with the prospect of letting go of his new pet.

Henry smiled and looked around when he came to the end of the stairs.

Hadrian was waiting for him at their secret meeting place.

As if he could sense his presence, Hadrian turned. When he saw him, a smile lit his green eyes from within.

“How have you been, brat? You’re making Father proud.” Hadrian chuckled.

Henry rubbed the back of his neck and retrieved the Invisibility Cloak, handing it over to its rightful owner.

“I’m not you, Harry. I can’t behave properly all the time,” he smirked, “I need to keep the Potter Legacy and protect the Marauders' reputation. Thank you for the Cloak by the way.”

Hadrian took it and shook his head. “You can have it whenever you need to sneak around as long as you don’t put yourself in harm’s way.”

“So, Hagrid slipped again,” Henry winked.

“Really? Out with it, don’t keep me waiting,” Hadrian urged impatiently, something few were allowed to witness.

Henry’s smiled and looked into his brothers’ eyes, ignoring his lifted eyebrow.

He didn’t want to sever the connection for he missed the times he spent with his family in Potter Manor, behaving carelessly, unaware of how adventurous life at Hogwarts was going to be.

When Hadrian groaned, Henry laughed and slanted his eyes at him. “The great Hadrian Potter-Black isn’t as poised as he seems.” Then more seriously, he started. “Before school started, Dumbledore trusted Hagrid with bringing something back from Gringotts. Something precious he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about.”

Hadrian’s eyes narrowed. “Something he’s keeping in Hogwarts.’’

Henry nodded. “It’s the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Hadrian cursed under his breath. “How could…he’s hiding it on the third floor, hence the three-headed dog and the trapdoor.”

Henry looked down sheepishly and was startled when Hadrian’s voice blasted through his eardrums. “Don’t tell me you went there! You heard Dumbledore’s warning, it’s dangerous!”

“But you went there, too,” Henry huffed pleased with himself for standing up to his overprotective brother. ‘’It wasn’t intentional, I swear. We were trying to keep Ron from falling into Malfoy’s trap.”

“Nevertheless, you shouldn’t go there again, ever,” Hadrian admonished. “You had your fun and that’s it. Keep your head down and concentrate on your studies. Mother won’t be pleased if your grades aren’t straight O.”

Henry shifted his mocking gaze to his brother. “I’m working on that but I can’t promise an O in potions. The bat won’t leave me in peace.”

When Hadrian sighed, he smiled widely. “I can promise the Quidditch House cup, though. I’ll have my revenge soon,” he added haughtily when Hadrian looked like he might laugh at his claim. “I am the youngest Seeker in a Century.”

“And you’re the best,” Hadrian ruffled his hair. “Now, let’s hear about the dragon. It was a pleasure to talk to Charlie again,” he asked casually with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Henry gasped unwittingly and Hadrian winked. “You’ve been a great help without even trying. We need to get to the bottom of this. Only then, the mystery will be solved and you’ll enjoy the rest of this year in peace.”

Henry looked up again, registering the new determination igniting a glint in his brother’s eyes.

He sucked in a breath, letting the overwhelming love of his brother sweep across his heart.

His mind was made up; he wouldn’t fear a thing as long as Hadrian had his back.

That, however, didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be part of the fight.

He was a Potter as well and trouble should be his middle name.

Chapter Text

June 1992

Hadrian might have to kill his brother and be done with it.

The insufferable brat was doing it purposefully, throwing furtive looks at Quirrell whenever he thought the professor wasn’t paying attention and planning Merlin knew what.

“I say let’s hasten our plans before your sweet brother ruins them all,” Graham sipped his Earl Grey Tea carefully, his shrewd, dark eyes roaming over the four tables.

“He’s right,” Adrian nodded. “Whoever told you that eleven years olds can behave is delusional.”

“I know firsthand how bothersome and backstabbing siblings can be,” Hestia glared at her sister.

The latter grinned sweetly and shrugged.

“Sweet Salazar,” Cassius muttered under his breath. “Did you have to take Gemma to Hogsmeade? We won’t hear the end of it. You know that Hestia has fancied you since the second year.”

“Flora suggested I make her friend happy and I couldn’t make a charming, young lady upset,” Hadrian smiled faintly, his eyes glued to his brother.

Marcus groaned. “Mate, everyone knows that you’ve never given Gemma Farley a second glance. There must be a reason you relented so easily to Flora’s pleas.”

Hadrian sighed and with a wave of his wand, erected a Secrecy Ward he was taught by Arcturus.

“I made it clear to Gemma that we can become nothing but friends. She’s aware so don’t make it sound as if I’ve broken her heart.”

Cassius narrowed his eyes and lifted a questioning brow. 

Hadrian smirked. “Her father is the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation. He has records of every Portkey that leaves England legally or…illegally. Gemma wanted to brag about how she managed to score a date with me and I wanted some information. If truth be told, we had an enjoyable evening; just two new friends getting to know each other and exchanging random thoughts and—“

“Save your breath, Hadrian,” Cassius smiled knowingly. “We don’t need your holier-than-thou rant.’’

Hadrian’s eyes smouldered with amusement as his gaze found the expectant faces waiting for him to elaborate.

“Well, it seems that Quirrell lied. He did not leave England last summer. The Vampire ambush is nothing but a made-up story to hide whatever happened.”

“And?” Adrian asked with agog eyes.

“And we have to get to whatever Dumbledore is hiding on the third floor before he does. I have the feeling that we won’t like the outcome if he seizes it first,” Hadrian said, not bothering to hide the urgency from his voice.

Cassius frowned. “We can’t barge there unarmed with sufficient information. The traps were designed by the professors. I bet there’s a nasty surprise or two lying under the trapdoor.”

“Not to forget the three-headed hellhound,” Marcus groaned.

Hadrian clasped his hands above the table and looked at his friends, really looked at them.

His lips slanted into a genuine smile as he considered the girls and guys that snatched a place in his heart and somehow, become his second family.

When he left Potter Manor four years ago, his head was filled with nothing by plans of revenge and justice.

Arcturus had taught him how to mould a sturdy web of connections. He instilled in him the importance of alliances.

What he hadn’t expected, though, was how much his Court would come to mean to him.

They had his back when Dominic Rookwood graduated a year ago and he decided it was time to take the reins. It was ludicrous for a third year to take part in the duels that decided the identity of the next King.

Of course, his dual Heirship and fine lineage helped for no one would underestimate a Potter-Black.

His friends’ support, however, was what tipped the balance in his favour.

Other than his family’s influence and his magical prowess, Hadrian was friends with the most preeminent Heirs to the ruling families of the Wizengamot.

There was no competition in sooth, the King’s throne was already his.

Hadrian shook the memories away and smirked. “Did you know that Atlas Black was a stellar Magizoologist who specialized in Greek Creatures? After a tragic accident in Patras, everyone thought his journals were lost. They weren’t. They were amassed and kept in the safety of the Black library.”

“I believe I heard of him. Wasn’t he the one who inspired Newt Scamander to compile a compendium on Fantastic Beasts so everyone can benefit from the information?” Cassius wondered.

“You’re right. I asked Ezio to look for Cerberuses and as expected, I found the answer”

“My Merlin! So you weren’t stalling all this while,” Marcus exclaimed. “You were driving me bonkers, not to mention all the training I missed thanks to your schemes. If I lose to Woods, I’ll kill you King or not.”

Hadrian shook his head in exasperation. “We won’t lose to Woods and we won’t lose to Quirrell either. As soon as Dumbledore leaves the castle, you and Cassius will join me for a little trip to the forbidden corridor.”

“But…” Adrian didn’t sound happy about his decision.

Hadrian looked at the befuddled blond and his lips twitched with mirth.” Don’t worry. I happen to have the right job for you and the twins.”

As the days crept by, Henry watched and planned.

His talks with Hadrian and Hagrid and the bits he managed to grasp and assemble confirmed his suspicion that Quirrell—who wasn’t definitely what he pretended to be—was after the Philosopher’s Stone.

“Hadrian will kill you,” Neville’s voice jolted him.

“No, he won’t. He loves me,” Henry flung at him, his fingers going to the pendant dangling from his necklace. 

More brightly, he added. “He’ll know if something bad happens to me.”

“But, why don’t we tell McGonagall? She can deal with Quirrell,” Ron suggested.

Henry sighed. “Do you think she would believe us? Snape had been on Quirrell’s tail for months and he couldn’t corner him.”

“What makes you sure that the bat isn’t after—“ Ron scoffed.

“Because unlike you, I’ve been using my brain, Ron. Who seems more suspicious to you? Snape has been teaching in Hogwarts for thirteen years. Dumbledore and the staff trust him. I know that he’s an insufferable, bitter, man but I don’t see him as a potential thief. Quirrell’s behaviour, on the other hand, is odd.”

“Henry is right,” Hermione nodded. 

When Ron glared at her, she huffed. “I don’t like Snape but Quirrell being after the stone makes more sense considering the facts.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Neville asked.

“Somehow, I feel that Hadrian will make his move soon. He’s been plotting for weeks,” Henry smirked, his hazel eyes glinting with anticipation.

He wasn’t disobeying his brother or throwing himself in danger. He knew the risk.

Nevertheless, he wanted to understand what was going on. He wanted to play a part in the upcoming fight for everything started with him and would end with him.

Hadrian wouldn’t be pleased, he had no doubt, but he would forgive him like he always did.

Either way, he wouldn’t be in peril, not really. The school wards could alert the headmaster and Hadrian could always find him thanks to his priceless gift.

“If you say so,” Neville ran a hand over his pale face. “You’ve seen how he went ballistic in Samhain when you didn’t leave your seat fast enough and head to the Common Room.”

“But I’ve never seen a Mountain Troll before. It was purely for academic reasons.”

Hermione snorted. “Please, who do you think you’re kidding? You would’ve gone after it if given the chance.”

Henry shrugged and rolled his eyes. 

It wasn’t as if he engaged the troll or tried to neutralize it, he wasn’t stupid.

He merely wanted to have a look.

Henry, Hermione, Neville and Ron carefully kept their steps light as they moved toward the abandoned classroom.

Neville prodded him in the ribs and he stilled.

“I feel…I think we’ve been followed,” he whispered and Henry’s eyes flared.

Neville’s gentle character downplayed his skills. Henry had witnessed firsthand what kind of skill his friend displayed whenever he was cornered.

Although he took more after his mother, Alice Longbottom, and preferred plants to people’s company, Neville was the son of Frank Longbottom, one of the best Aurors in the DMLE.

Henry believed that with a bit more self-confidence, Neville could hone his gifts sharper and become the wizard he was always meant to be.

“Where?” he breathed.

“It’s—”

But Neville didn’t get to finish as the shadows shimmied and three figures materialized out of thin air.

Henry groaned as he recognized the Invisibility Cloak.

It was Adrian Pucey flanked by the Carrow twins.

“Good evening, little Potter,” Pucey smiled, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“I’m not little. As for the evening, I believe it’s about to be ruined,” Henry flicked his wand out.

“My, My,” one of the Carrow twins chortled. “The little lion got some fangs, well you’re right. Hadrian trusted us with escorting you back safely to your dorms. You’ve been warned not to step on this floor again. Of course, being a brash Gryff, you disobeyed.”

“Be nice, Hestia,” the other twin admonished. “Little Potter and his friends are just curious. Thankfully, we’re here to save the day.”

Ron stared at the three older Slytherins incredulously. “We don’t need you to make our decisions for us.”

“You’re Percy’s youngest brother? I can’t say I’m surprised,” Pucey smirked.

“What do you mean?” Ron growled.

“He meant no offence….as long as you’re not a stuck-up, ostentatiously virtuous teachers’ pet,’’ One of the twins snickered.

“You…” Ron took a step forward.

His eyes narrowed, not missing the patronizing tone but Hermione clasped his arm halting his progress. “Ron, please.”

“So how are we doing this? The easy way or the hard way? I’d rather not use force, Potter. Hadrian won’t be pleased if you get a scratch,” Pucey drawled, looking at his nails.

Henry pressed his lips together. He was cornered. Nevertheless, he could always devise a last plan and try to make a bargain.

“Do you have siblings?” he asked. 

Pucey seemed puzzled by the sudden enquiry. “No, thank Merlin,” his sky-blue eyes went to the twins.

“Then you can’t understand how I feel. I knew from the start that Hadrian won’t let me step into the forbidden corridor again. He made it clear that he won’t allow it.”

“What? Then what are we doing here?” Neville gasped.

Henry advanced and lifted his eyes to Pucey. “I want to make sure that my brother is fine. I’m certain that whatever he’s going through now is fraught with danger.”

Pucey knit his brows and scrutinized his face for a long moment.

Henry didn’t lower his gaze so he recognized the amusement, respect and frustration that swirled in the blue depths.

“You’re Hadrian’s brother, indeed,” Pucey finally smiled.

“I know."

“Adrian, what are you doing?” what he surmised was Flora asked slowly.

Pucey waved her off and looped an arm over Henry’s shoulder. “I like this kid. If bad comes to worst, I can always blame it on you. We have a score to settle,’’ he winked and steered him toward the third floor.

“Henry?” Neville asked.

“Go back. We’ll catch up later,” Henry smiled.

Somehow, he knew he could’ve done well in Slytherin.

He couldn’t disappoint his father, Sirius and Remus, though.

Hadrian handed the flute to Marcus, ignoring his heated glare. “I hate you, you know,’’ the chaser hissed but accepted the instrument anyway.

Only a few knew that Marcus was taught to play different instruments as a child.

His grandmother was a famous Contralto who travelled all over the Magical World enchanting Wixen with her divine voice.

She had insisted that her sole grandchild learned at least how to play music.

Soulful melodies filled the room and the Cerberus slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

“Thank you mate,” Cassius smirked.

Hadrian pressed his lips together to chase his smile away. “Keep playing until we open the door. As soon as Cassius jumps, you throw the flute and follow.”

Marcus nodded begrudgingly.

Cassius pulled the ring of the trapdoor and Hadrian jumped, his wand clasped tightly between his fingers.

He sighed when he landed on a Devil’s Snare. Cassius, then Marcus joined him.

They closed their eyes and remained still waiting for the plant to lose its grip.

“I bet this is Sprout’s doing,” Marcus huffed.

“She could have done worse,” Cassius berated playfully.

“Let’s move,” Hadrian said, following the stone passageway.

They stopped when they heard a soft rustling.

At last, they reached a scarcely lit room.

“I see keys,” Cassius observed, his grey eyes fixed on the winged creatures that flew around.

“I’ll seize a broomstick, get ready to open the door,” Hadrian instructed. 

After a short chase; weaving and diving, he snatched the winged key that matched the lock.

“You could’ve applied for the Seeker position, you know,” Marcus noted.

“I prefer playing with you,” Hadrian said as he headed toward the door.

“I’m ready,” Cassius nodded.

The moment he thrust the battered key into the lock, Cassius pulled the door open.

As soon as they stepped into the next chamber, bright light engulfed it.

“Sweet Salazar, how many traps did the professors set up?” Marcus groaned.

“Not enough considering that Quirrell is ahead of us. Let’s be done with this,’’ Hadrian’s shrewd eyes studied the giant chessboard.

Like every Heir, he was taught the game from a very young age.

Fleamont and then Arcturus believed that it would help develop his perspective and boost his planning skills.

“One of us has to be left behind,” Cassius mused.

“You’re right,” Marcus loosened his tie. “I volunteer.”

Hadrian nodded, giving the suggestion his full consideration.

If they were to play their way across the room, they had to make a sacrifice leaving them free to checkmate the White King.

Marcus was the best choice considering his well-built physique and sharp reflexes.

“Just make sure that you’re not injured…much,” Cassius said innocently.

“Insensitive monster,” Marcus muttered under his breath and picked up a Black Knight.

The moment Marcus jumped from the enchanted horse, the White King bowed and threw his crown.

“Don’t make me wait,” a tired Marcus said and waved them off.

Hadrian and Cassius hurried toward the next room.

“Merlin! I hate whoever brought it here,” Cassius hissed as the smell of a tackled troll filled their nostrils.

“At least Quirrell killed it and made our job easier,” Hadrian murmured a Bubble-Head Charm and pulled the next door open.

“Let’s hope that Snape doesn't make it tough,’’ Cassius sighed as he studied the different shaped bottles standing inconspicuously over the small table.

“Considering the traps we went through, I doubt it’d be something we can’t tackle,” Hadrian grabbed the small piece of parchment lying next to the potions and smiled.

“A puzzle. How very…Snape.”

He looked at Cassius who seemed to come to the same conclusion.

“Only one of us can go through the fire,” his best friend said slowly seeming to pick up the gravity of their predicament.

“Yes. If I don’t come back say…in thirty minutes, you know what to do.”

Green met grey and Hadrian could see the worry and resignation.

Cassius clenched his jaw. “Do you really have to do this? I can sense the tainted magic on the other side.”

“You know I do,” He clasped his friend’s shoulder adamantly, feeling the bond the two shared. “I know you want to rant and admonish me for not alerting Father or Sirius, but we don’t have time not to mention, we can’t alert our foe if we want to catch him unaware.”

“Make sure you come back,” Cassius quipped. “It’s not easy to find good company in this school.”

Hadrian scoffed. “Just admit that you love me. I’m your best mate.”

“You’re my curse, Potter-Black. I rue the day I met you,” the stormy-eyed wizard lifted his chin and pursed his mouth.

Hadrian smiled.

All signs of joviality left Hadrian’s face as he guzzled the potion and walked through the icy fire.

“Quirell,” he said calmly.

The professor was looking at a large mirror, his face scrunched in deep thought.

“Potter-Black?” he said without stuttering. “I was expecting your brother. He thinks he’s stealthy but I’ve noticed the way he’s been following me.”

“And I noticed the way you were interested in Henry. Who are you?” Hadrian demanded.

“A Potter and a Black,” Quirrell said coolly. “I admit it sounds like an odd combination. Would Fleamont agree to you being raised and taught by Arcturus Black?” 

The moment his grandfather’s name left Quirrell’s lips, everything clicked in Hadrian’s head.

“You were sent by Voldemort. I suspected as much but you just confirmed my theory,” he said icily.

“You’re as brave as your late grandfather. Regrettably, his boldness was his undoing,” Quirrell laughed and Hadrian’s eyes narrowed when the professor looked in the mirror, ignoring his presence.

“I can see the stone but the meddling fool made it quite impossible to take it out from this blasted mirror.”

“Let the boy try,’’ A cold, high-pitched voice ordered and for the first time, a spam of fear flitted down Hadrian’s back.

“Master…” Quirrell sounded alerted.

“Let me see the older Potter. I didn’t get the chance when I visited their home ten years ago,” the voice said.

Quirrell’s step faltered but he nodded dejectedly.

He unwrapped his turban and a fist cinched around Hadrian’s heart as he beheld the chalk-white face with the slitted red eyes.

“Do you see what your brother did to me, Hadrian?”

“I see it wasn’t enough,” Hadrian breathed, his blood boiling with barely repressed rage.

He stumbled forward when Quirrell pushed him all of a sudden.

He examined the mirror, feeling the eerie magic seeping from it.

“This is the Mirror of Erised,” Voldemort hissed. “It shows your heart’s greatest desire.”

“And why would I see the Stone? I don’t want it,” Hadrian lied through his teeth.

Voldemort smiled mockingly. “Of course you want it. You do because you want to prevent my return. I can help you, though. I can bring Fleamont Potter back.”

Hadrian felt no shame in admitting that his heart stooped to the alluring prospect.

However…

“Grandfather would never accept a Cursed Life. He embraced death like a true Potter for unlike you, he’s not a coward,” Hadrian taunted while his eyes followed his reflection as his hand pulled out the stone from his pocket.

“How dare you!” Quirrell screamed in outrage but he was ready for him.

He jumped backwards and shouted. ‘Scalpere’

Quirrell hissed as blood seeped from his mangled  left arm. 

“You’re something else, Potter. Not Light, beyond any doubt,” Voldemort hissed.

“I never proclaimed to be what I’m not. I’ll use whatever I can get my hands on to thwart your plans then, destroy you,” Hadrian said as he sidestepped Quirrell’s ‘Reducto’.

“Catch him!” Voldemort ordered.

'Laedere!' Hadrian hissed, his eyes narrowed on his foe. Quirrell-Voldmeort seemed surprised by he Dark curse, yet he managed to conjure a marble wall in time.

"A Dark Potter?" he drawled. "Of course, you are. Ignis!''

'Protego Maxima!' he countered and clenched his teeth feeling the strain.

He knew he couldn’t hold for much longer.

Despite his vast knowledge, his core hasn’t matured yet.

He returned Quirrell’s fire with fire but his legs started wobbling after he used another 'Laedere'.

“You’re done, Hadrian. Your valour is admirable but you’re no match for my experience. End him, Quirinus.”

The words prickled Hadrian’s pride; yet, he recognized the truth in them.

Despite everything he was but a fourteen-year-old wizard.

He screwed up his courage and prepared to throw the darkest spell he knew notwithstanding the amount of raw power it would exhaust from his suffering core.

“Hadrian! Hold up,” Cassius’ voice went through his hazy mind and his lips lifted in a tired smile.

Cassius rushed to his side, followed by Snape, Marcus and Graham.

“We got you mate, stay with us,” Graham threw a powerful shield as Snape stood up to Quirrell.

“I knew you were up to something,” the Potion Master drawled coldly.

“Severus, have you betrayed me?” Voldemort hissed icily.

Snape’s pallid complexion became more pronounced as he heard the voice.

“The Dark Lord…” he breathed.

“Severus!” 

Hadrian slumped against Graham as Fawkes flashed inside with Dumbledore holding to his tail.

He fought against the darkness that wanted to take him to no avail.

The last thing he saw before his lids dropped was a familiar face with worried hazel eyes screaming his name.

Hadrian abhorred the infirmary, but the moment he opened his eyes, he knew he fell prey to Madam Pomfrey’s ministrations.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, trying to sit up.

“Harry!” Henry gasped.

“You should thank me for mending your core, Mr Potter-Black. Are you aware of the amount of raw magic you exhorted on that fight,” Madam Pomfrey huffed.

“I’ll make sure he knows,” James Potter’s cool voice supplied and he sighed.

“Father,” 

“How are you doing?” James set his worried gaze on his eldest, his hand resting on his forehead.

“I feel like I’ve been trampled down by a horde of Hippogriffs,” Hadrian replied hoarsely.

“What were you thinking, going there by yourself?” Lily asked in a small voice.

“Mother,”

“Don’t ‘mother’ me. Is this what you’ve been taught? You could…We could’ve lost you,” she cried.

“Lily, please,” James soothed, rubbing her back gently.

Sirius scanned his face and raised a dark eyebrow. “Prongs and Lily will give you all the scolding you deserve. I’m going to ask though: did you get what you went after?”

Only a Black could understand the depth of his need to exact his vengeance.

“I did,” Hadrian smiled.

“What…” James snapped, glaring at his best friend.

“I admit that Hadrian’s actions were rushed but in the end, he prevented Voldemort from coming back. I had a small talk with Dumbledore before heading here,” Sirius smirked. “He’s looking for the Stone.”

Hadrian narrowed his eyes and looked at the chair next to his bed.

His robes were folded neatly and he could see a small bulge in his right pocket.

“It belongs to Nicholas Flamel,” he stressed. 

“And you saved it,” Sirius grinned widely. 

“James, Lily, Sirius,” Dumbledore joined them at last.

“Dumbledore,” James nodded. “How was he able to infiltrate the school?”

Dumbledore dropped his head. “It’s my fault. I accepted his application for the DADA professor position when I found no other candidates. I should’ve suspected something considering his odd behaviour.’’

“And the Stone?” Lily hissed through gritted teeth. “How could you bring something so dangerous to Hogwarts?”

“I—I had no right, Lily. I know. I was asked by my dear friend Nicholas and his wife Perenelle to safeguard it while they took a long trip and I thought that the school would be the safest place after someone tried to steal it from my vault in Gringotts.”

“Isn’t it strange considering that this is Henry’s first year?” Sirius drawled innocently.

“Sirius, certainly you’re not accusing me of putting Henry’s safety in jeopardy,” Dumbledore sounded wounded.

“I would never point my finger at you, Dumbledore. Despite your fallibility, I know you would never harm the kids. Nevertheless, I can’t help but wonder: weren’t you aware that the moment Henry leaves the Manor’s safety, he’d be in danger?” Sirius pressed, flames of cold rage flickering in his silver-grey eyes. “I could’ve lost my son and Heir tonight. Hadrian sacrificed himself to prevent his brother from taking action. He saved not only the Stone, but Magical Britain.”

“You can’t make me feel worse, Sirius. I know the extent of my mistake,” Dumbledore said.

“What happened to Quirrell, Sir?” Hadrian wondered in a feeble attempt to break the tension filling the room.

He had never trusted Dumbledore—or any outsider bar his friends for the matter— yet he knew they couldn’t start fighting among themselves now that darker times were approaching.

“He—“ Dumbledore seemed uncomfortable.

“My son can handle the truth, speak freely,” James said.

“He died. The moment Voldemort’s spirit left him his body crumbled.”

Henry grimaced. “Sounds weird.”

Hadrian exchanged a meaningful look with Sirius.

Something wasn’t adding up.

How had Voldemort survived in the first place and how could his spirit—or whatever it was—act so independently?

“Mr Potter-Black, I was wondering, did you find the Stone?” Dumbledore’s eyes shot to his.

Silence stretched on for a moment before Hadrian spoke. “I did.”

The Headmaster beamed at him. “Very good. Only those who seek the stone to protect it and not for their gain can find it.”

Hadrian searched the headmaster’s gaze. “I don’t need to live forever. All that I strive for is to protect my family.”

“That’s a very noble aspiration, Mr Potter- Black,” Dumbledore’s eyes gentled. “Chasing immortality is a fool’s quest for death is nothing but the next great adventure.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath.

“Now, enough of this. As for the Stone—“ Dumbledore started.

“I’ll send it back to the Flamels, Sir,” Hadrian’s eyes glowed with satisfaction when Dumbledore tilted his head. ‘’I’ll send it as soon as the holidays start.”

“That’s my son,” Sirius burst out laughing it took James a moment to understand what was going on before he shook his head in exasperation.

“why?” Henry poked his side.

“The Flamels owe our family a Life Debt, brat. Grandfather Arcturus would have my hide if I let this chance slip through my fingers. ”

What Hadrian didn’t see were the worried glances James, Lily and Sirius traded.

‘’I heard that Potter-Black spent last night in the hospital wing. Something must’ve happened. The members of the Court seemed distressed all day. Warrington almost lost his temper earlier and admonished a second year,” Tracy whispered excitedly.

Daphne sipped her juice slowly and looked at the centre of the Slytherin Table.

She noticed right away that the King’s spot was vacant which didn’t add up considering it was the end-of-the-year feast.

As a staunch follower of regulations and traditions, Potter-Black would never miss it.

“You’re right,” Blaise drawled. “It was reported that Lord Potter and Lord Black visited the school last night. Potter-Black was up to something.”

“Stop it,” Draco hissed. “You’d better not put your nose in Hadrian’s business.”

“So, he’s Hadrian now?” Blaise grinned.

“He’s my blood-adopted cousin,” Draco stressed with hard eyes.

“If you insist,” Blaise waved him off and started a small talk with Theo.

Daphne’s eyes narrowed on the blond.

Since the night he was singled out by the Court, Draco started to conduct himself differently.

Gradually, the pompous prat disappeared and a more confident, independent wizard took his place.

She wondered what went between the cousins.

She heard a sharp gasp and her head swivelled toward the sound.

Hestia stood abruptly but her sister tugged her down by the robes.

All of a sudden, the gloomy cloud that descended upon the Slytherin table disappeared and every single Slytherin straightened their back and tipped their chins up.

“He’s…he seems fine,’’ Tracy offered her a puzzled look and Daphne couldn’t agree more.

Hadrian Potter-Black sliced through the silence that came down like a peal of thunder.

The tall wizard strode toward his seat with measured steps, his fine robes billowing behind him and making him seem as if he was hovering inches above the ground rather than walking on it.

His iridescent eyes studied the centre of the table before they went to the Gryffindor side.

Daphne noticed the bright, victorious secret smile he exchanged with his brother.

Henry’s shoulders slumped, and then fire blasted into his hazel eyes.

“Welcome back,” Cassius greeted in a quiet voice.

“How can I miss another House Cup?” Hadrian’s voice was a blend of amusement and relief.

Tender concern filled the gaze of every member of the Court and for a moment Daphne was reminded of the sister she would meet soon.

Henry Potter wasn’t Hadrian Potter-Black’s only sibling. 

She wondered how the most powerful wizard in her House managed to garner this tremendous amount of respect and loyalty.

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.

Chapter Text

September 1992

Clinging to hope desperately, Astoria Greengrass kept muttering under her breath as she trudged toward the stool.

All she could do was believe in herself. She would get the green tie no matter what it took.

Luna Lovegood— the idiosyncratic blonde she stumbled upon when she was buying some sweets earlier—kept giving her thumbs-ups and she couldn’t help but smile.

It seemed an eternity before the Hat spoke. “Hmmm, what do we have here? Another Greengrass.”

“Hello, Hat.’’ Her voice trembled with emotion. “I am another Greengrass so House Slytherin is the best place for me.”

“Are you sure, little Greengrass?” The Hat taunted. “I can see courage in your head. You could do good in Gryffindor. You are smart, too. Rowena would want you with her eagles.”

Astoria refused to admit defeat. “Daphne worries so much. I have to remain close to assuage her fears.”

“What about your fears, little Greengrass?”

“I fear nothing. I plan to enjoy every moment until it’s time to—“ Despite her bravado, she couldn’t say the word.

“Very well. I can see why Slytherin is the right House for you. You are dauntless and shrewd, but most of all; you are ruthless. You cheated death many a time and refused to surrender. You have Salazar’s will and he would be proud to call you his snake. SLYTHRIN!”

Astoria froze for a moment. It worked!

Giddiness filled her as Daphne’s lips curved in a rare smile.

The numbing coldness in her heart was washed away and the weak organ beat frantically.

She wouldn’t allow herself to surrender to the bloody Curse.

She wasn’t worthless or weak.

Perhaps, one day her body wouldn’t cope with her will anymore. It wasn’t that day yet, though.

Slowly, she put the Hat down and smiled at Professor McGonagall then somehow made her way to her sister, too dazed to think straight.

She made an inarticulate sound when Tracy hugged her, throwing decorum to the wind.

Too curious for her own good, her eyes strayed to the centre of the Slytherin table.

The control and elegance of the wizard in the middle—flanked by what she recognized as Adrian Pucey and Cassius Warrington—made it too easy to recognize him.

So, this was the King.

As if sensing her scrutiny, he turned his head and watched her from across the table.

Astoria grinned.

Hadrian Potter-Black seemed like an interesting wizard.

“My hands are itching to slap the stupid expression from his face,” Marcus grumbled under his breath.

“You’re not the only one, mate. I’ve never considered the possibility of meeting someone as vain as Adrian,” Cassius drawled, his eyes narrowed on the new DADA professor.

“Hey!” Adrian gasped. “I’m not vain. I’m perfect.”

“Of course, you are,” Hadrian sighed. 

“He’s cute, though,” Hestia said dreamily. “A man who loves lilac is a man after my heart.”

Marcus cringed, while Flora rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you read that trash.”

Hestia looked scandalized. “How could you? Instead of buying the dregs he wrote, I used the money wisely.”

“I don’t want to know,” Cassius cleared his throat.

“You’ll regret this statement later, cousin,” Hestia fluttered her eyelashes mockingly.

“Miss Carrow?” Lockhart’s blinding-white teeth gleamed in the softly-lit classroom. “You should pay more attention in class. You have to study hard for your O.W.L.S.” He gave her a roguish wink and waggled his finger in mock admonishment.

“Is he for real?” Marcus growled.

“Forget about the nuisance. You won’t learn a thing from him,” Hadrian shook his head.

“But we have O.W.L.S,” Adrian whimpered. “Mother will kill me if I get less than an E in Defense.”

“You won’t,” Hadrian said. “We’ll study harder this year.”

“Bloody hell,” Adrian’s eyes widened.

Hadrian smirked. “Rest assured that you’ll get nothing but an O.”

“I’ve been a bit hasty. I deserve this,” Adrian dropped his head in defeat.

Cassius whispered a Muffliato and whispered. “I reckon you were busy with your grandfather this summer but a lot happened.”

“You mean the Ministry raids?” Hadrian said firmly.

“Yes. Lucius Malfoy and Reginald Nott were almost caught. Father presumes that they smuggled their illegal possessions to Borgin and Burkes before the Aurors arrived.”

“I wouldn't be surprised,” Hadrian clenched his jaw. “It’s frustrating but they know their way around too well. I suspect they have spies in every Department, not to forget Fudge. He’s Malfoy’s malleable puppet.”

“There was outrage among the Neutrals. Even though we avoid confrontations and don’t care much about power struggles, the lows the Ministry of Magic has sunk to are alarming,” Cassius sounded troubled.

“You’re right. If worse comes to worst, we won’t be ready to fight Voldemort and his sycophants.” Hadrian’s hands folded over the desk as he considered Cassius’ words.

What game was Lucius Malfoy playing at?

He has been busy with Arcturus’ health that he forgot about him and his son altogether.

Maybe…

His lips curled in amusement as he tilted his head lazily. “Maybe it’s time I have a second meeting with my Blood-Cousin.”

Cassius’ eyes gleamed with excitement. “Let’s find out if he paid regard to your warning.”

Henry blinked, barely able to stay awake. 

“Henry!” Hermione said cajolingly, giving him a stern nudge. “I thought that DADA was your favourite class.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Well, I thought we’ll have a decent Professor this year. I’m so reconsidering my options. Potions are out of the question. Maybe I’ll follow in Dad’s footsteps and pay more attention to McGonagall.”

Ron snorted. “You’re the best in Transfiguration.”

“I can always do better. I have a legacy to protect, you know,” he yawned then stiffened when Lockhart strode toward them, his bright, green robes swirling behind him. “Mr Potter? Perhaps you want to share what you’ve been discussing with Mr Weasley with the rest of the class?” He faked a crestfallen expression and pursued his lips. “This behaviour won’t do. I know you think you have it all being The Saviour and an international celebrity since you were one, but—“

Ron and Neville’s shoulders shook with silent chuckles as he stared in disbelief at the new DADA professor.

“You should set an example for your peers. It’s your duty. I know it’s hard, being an Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award—“ The brute pointed at himself.

“Avada Kedavra me…” Henry groaned in defeat.

Seamus sniggered.

“Back to work,” Lockhart clapped his hands in excitement.

“Thank Merlin,” Henry lifted his head slowly. “I don’t know what his deal is. He won’t leave me alone.”

“Neither would Colin Creevy,” Ron grinned.

“Or Ginny Weasley,” Neville shot back and blushed when Ron lifted an eyebrow. “What? It’s true. Have you seen how she almost tripped this morning when Henry greeted her?”

“Nev! You are not helping,” Henry protested.

“Neither is your Potter Luck.’’ It was a bare whisper, but he heard it nevertheless. He couldn’t contradict him, though, for his words carried nothing but the sad truth.

Gilderoy Lockhart sprouted from the most unlikely places and accused him perpetually of trying to attract attention.

Colin Creevey stalked him, trying to have his autograph.

Ginny Weasley blushed to the roots and tripped whenever their paths crossed.

He tried to keep his calm and deal with the three new oddities with fake smiles but it was getting on his nerves.

This year didn’t seem promising at all.

Lockhart continued to pace pompously in front of the class. “As the best DADA Professor you can ever get, rest assured that by the end of this year you will be fully armed against the foulest dark creatures—“

He placed his hand over the covered cage and grinned. “Don’t scream.”

“These are—“

“Is he stupid?” Henry tightened his hold on his wand, his eyes narrowing on the Cornish Pixies. Thanks to his mother, he spent the summer studying the second-year curriculum and perfecting his coordination and speed. His father helped whenever he was free and unsurprisingly, his talent with Offensive and Defensive spells was uncovered.

Like every Potter, Henry was a prodigy in Duelling.

“Get ready, Hermione. I have a bad feeling about this,” he hissed.

“But, Professor Lockhart is—“

“Right, then,” Lockhart said loudly. “Let’s see what you make of them!” And he opened the cage.

“Bugger!” Henry muttered as he jumped to his feet.

The Pixies shot in every direction and shredded papers, threw bottles and harassed the students who didn’t manage to flee or hide under their desks.

With a horrified expression on his face, Lockhart slinked to the door behind his desk and slipped inside, shutting it quickly behind him.

“I told you he’s a fraud!” Ron yelled as a Pixie bit his ear viciously.

“But— the things he did in his travels and—“ Hermione whispered despondently.

Henry shook his head and shouted. “Immobulus!”

The dazzled Pixies floated in midair and Henry gestured for Ron and Neville to help him collect them.

“I’ll help,” Hermione sniffed and flicked her wand.

Henry smiled. “Thank you, ‘Mione.”

The corridors leading to the dungeons were quiet when Hadrian motioned for Draco to follow him to the east intersection, where the Court’s private room where located.

At nine, it was too late for most of the students to wander from their Common Rooms.

No Slytherin would be caught breaking the school policies.

Pale and controlled, the blonde did as asked.

With a sharp twirl of his wand, Hadrian closed the door, warding the room in the process.

“Draco,” 

“Heir Black,” the shorter wizard bowed without hesitancy.

Hadrian gave him an encouraging smile. So his mind was made-up.

“How was your summer?” he sat down on the King’s carved chair and urged him to take the seat facing him.

“It was boring, I guess. Father wasn’t allowed to leave the country so we remained in the Manor,” Draco offered slowly.

Hadrian braced his hands on the chair’s arms in the silence that followed Draco’s statement.

His cousin was cooperating as he hoped. Maybe, it wasn’t too late to save him and Narcissa.

“I regret what you had to go through this summer, but Lucius should know that his past won’t stop haunting him,” Hadrian’s mouth hardened with distaste.

Draco swallowed audibly and turned his head, fleeing his gaze.

He knew he was being cold and insensitive but Draco needed his bluntness now more than ever.

One thing was certain, he needed to veer from the path his father and grandfather followed and understand that they weren’t perfect, quite far from it.

“Draco,” Hadrian subtly leaned forward. “I presume you used the summer to think about what we talked about last year.”

The blond nodded.

“A war is probably hovering on our doorstep and you must understand how important it is to put aside what you’ve been groomed to do and remember that you are your own person. You are a Malfoy, and most importantly, a Black. We never bow or lower our heads. We were born to rule and shine like the stars our ancestors were named after.”

Trying to muster some semblance of composure, Draco jutted his pointy chin. “I want to be my own man, free from Father’s expectations. I can’t promise to befriend Mu—Muggleborns and forget everything I’ve been taught at once, but I’ll try. I‘ll do my best to uphold the Malfoy and Black customs. I spent the summer going through my family’s history and I believe that Father’s choices are…disgraceful. My ancestors would never agree.”

Draco gave him a long look that seemed to hold a hint of indecision. “I talked to Mother and she—she was glad when she learned what went between us. She believes that I should embrace my Black half more often and—“ He bit his lip and shook his head.

Hadrian’s eyes gentled. 

In a way, Draco reminded him of Henry.

Both were saddled with loads of expectations simply because of their names.

Henry was the Saviour, the Light’s beacon of hope while Draco was Heir Malfoy, the Pureblood Prince that should be Lucius’ facsimile.

They were never given a choice and whereas Henry was too wild and free to abide by rules and care for Magical Britain’s assumptions and presumptions, Draco did not possess the Potter Will that could never be broken.

It was his privilege as his future Head of House to guide him.

“You can always come to me for guidance, Draco.” Silver-blue eyes widened with astonishment and Hadrian wanted to rub his temples.

Awkward moments with semi-strangers were uncharted seas for him.

He never let his mask drop unless he was home, among family members. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, too. He preferred observing and listening. 

“You—“ Draco’s voice was small and hoarse it tugged at his heartstrings.

“I can be an older brother whenever you need one,” Hadrian drawled calmly with a coaxing panther-grin Arcturus would be proud of.

“Heir Back,” Draco repeated.

“It’s Hadrian to you."

Unfazed by the wonder written all over Draco’s face, Hadrian stood and said with great care. “I can help you pave a new way for yourself.”

When the blond remained silent, probably considering the endless possibilities, he went straight to the point. “So, what went in Malfoy Manor this summer? I heard that Lucius has been restless lately. He even got into a skirmish with Mr Arthur Weasley which seems so out of character of him.”

“Father was trying to—“ Draco halted, his mouth open indecisively and Hadrian knew that he was done when a mist of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“Tell me, little brother.” 

November 1992

Hadrian listened intently to Marcus’ plans for the new Quidditch season. 

While most players considered the sport a leisure activity and chiefly enjoyed the flight, Marcus was different. No one could rival his obsession with the game except for Oliver Wood.

“Lucius Malfoy tried to bribe his son’s way in. What do you think?” Marcus seemed to be mulling over the proposal.

“Are you kidding?” Adrian sounded enraged. “We don’t need fancy brooms. We won’t let others accuse us of being cheap snakes.”

“Exactly,” Cassius smiled and looked at him.

“You—“

“Cassius is right. The only requirement for joining the Team is talent,” Hadrian lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “We shall not make the son bear the iniquity of his father. Give him a chance. Who knows? Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

“He’s eyeing the Seeker position. Terence wants to quit the Team this year. He says he can’t handle training and O.W.L.S,” Marcus sighed.

“And who’s to blame for that?” Adrian snorted. “You’re a tyrant.”

“I am a winner and that’s all that matters,” Marcus countered.

Hadrian turned them off, his eyes slowly scanning the Common Room.

His smile fell and he furrowed his brow when he noticed the way Astoria Greengrass—one of the firsties who joined their House this year—clutched her robes and turned pale as if she had been slapped while Lily Moon, her year mate, kept talking.

Outwardly oblivious to the other witch’s verbal attack, she lifted her head with quiet dignity and turned, intending to leave.

Their gazes met the moment Lily Moon grabbed her by the arm and halted her progress.

“This won’t do,” Hadrian kept his expression neutral, his eyes riveted on the scene that few took notice of and he crossed the distance between them in languid strides.

Something about the younger Greengrass wasn’t adding up.

She was frail and pale and seldom allowed to leave her sister’s company. Her magic felt ailing.

“Miss Moon, maybe you want to share with us what you have to say to Miss Greengrass?” His voice was low and steady and brokered no argument.

He sensed the moment Cassius joined him, followed by Marcus.

“Heir Potter-Black,” Moon stammered recognizing her precarious situation.

“Speak,” Cassius ordered coldly. “You have been introduced to the Court’s Code a month ago and you know that bullying your Housemates is not allowed. Why were you harassing Miss Greengrass?”

Hadrian wanted to roll his eyes.

Of course, Cassius had noticed what was going on as well.

He was always relieved by his best friend’s presence. A divergent part of himself had settled into place the day he met the wizard who kept grounding and supporting him.

“I—she…today she….”

“Yes?” Marcus growled.

Astoria Greengrass’ expression was unfathomable as she answered readily. “Moon thinks I’m a disgrace and shouldn’t be part of House Slytherin. While I am the best in theory, my magic is weaker than my peers. I cannot get my spells right very often. I need more time to channel magic from my core and coordinate it with the wand movements. Can this be considered a satisfactory answer, Heir Warrington?” The little brunette drew her slight frame up as tall as possible, as she adopted the brisk tone that reminded them of Snape.

Cassius looked startled and only his ingrained self-control saved him from showing his surprise and shattering his mask.

Hadrian stared down at the two girls. “Is what Miss Greengrass claims right, Miss Moon?”

“I—she…some Gryffindors mocked us today because of her inaptitude,” she muttered sullenly.

“They mocked us because they’re stupid mutts,” Astoria retorted in a bored tone. “Magic isn’t mainly spells and raw power. Theory is important as well and core affinities vary. Have you ever heard of Alchemists, Enchanters and Spell-Crafters?” The younger Greengrass mocked.

“Of course, I did!” Moon snapped, momentarily forgetting about her audience.

“Well, then you should’ve done some research. It helps with brain growth and all.” Astoria’s smile was all teeth. “Masters of these three fields do not need much raw power to accomplish wonders. Their craft rests on their deep understanding of the laws of magic. Would you call them weak and meaningless? Without their inventions, you wouldn’t have spells to learn to begin with.”

Hadrian’s eyes glinted with mirth.

Hardly ever firsties surprised him. Yet, Greengrass lecturing Moon and shredding her pride into tiny pieces was providing a great deal of entertainment.

For a moment, he wondered why she was a snake. Her knowledge would do her good with the eagles.

“Miss Moon, It’s not advisable to bully another student in my House.” He cut her off when she opened her mouth. “You will apologize to Miss Greengrass and hopefully, think about her words because I, for one, agree with every word she said.” He stressed in a steely voice. ‘’This is your first offence, so I’ll be lenient. Make no mistake, though. Do it again and you will regret it. Immensely. I don’t care about what you’ve been taught in your home. Ironclad rules and regulations govern this House and you’d better learn them post haste.”

Helplessly, Moon dropped her head, her cheeks turning bright crimson.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Of course, you are.” Greengrass drawled. “Such amount of ignorance is worrisome. Not everyone was blessed with knowledge, though. You are forgiven,’’ she sighed shortly and Hadrian’s lips curled with a rare smile he couldn’t suppress.

Astoria Greengrass was an entertainment he wasn’t expecting.

Chapter Text

October 1992

Henry slouched in his seat and gritted his teeth in annoyance.

It was Lockhart again!

The fraud was too hard to avoid. He spent most of his time over the past week trying to stay clear of the brute’s path.

This time, however, he was caught thanks to Snape and his weird obsession with him.

Even though he was admittedly one of the best in his years in Potions, the professor seemed to dislike him for no particular reason other than him being Henry Fleamont Potter.

He tried time and again to pester his mother and make her tell him what happened between her and what used to be her best friend. 

Lily seemed disheartened every time the professor’s name was mentioned and Henry could not make his mother upset.

He dropped the tropic altogether and endeavoured to ignore him; something that seemed to infuriate Snape further.

It was indubitable that would his father or Sirius learn about this unfair treatment, they would rush to Hogwarts and confront him.

Henry, though, knew that his mother wouldn’t appreciate that.

Moreover, he wasn’t one to give up so easily. His Potter pride would never allow it.

He shifted in his seat, edging further as Lockhart sighed. “Fame seems tempting, Henry. Be warned though, it can be troublesome.” He ran his hand excruciatingly slow over his golden locks and said. “Look at me; I have to sign all these fan letters. Thankfully, Snape agreed to hand you over. I think I saved you from an awful evening in the dungeons.”

Henry wasn't so certain. Scrapping old cauldrons clean even without magic sounded tempting at the moment.

He hummed absently and signed another letter.

‘Bloody Hell,’ he thought. ‘Let me go you awful, good for noth—‘ His thoughts scattered to a hasty stop when he heard a spine-chilling voice.

‘Come to me…Let me rip you…I have to kill….’

Henry froze, his hurt thumping wildly.

“Professor,” he asked slowly. “Did you hear something?”

Lockhart looked at him with a perplexed face. “I heard nothing, Henry. Merlin’s Mercy! I believe my fans’ letters wore you down. You need your rest, young man.”

He nodded frantically and rushed toward the door, nearly toppling on the floor.

In the dark corridors, he couldn’t help the feeling of dread that slid down his back.

He was fairly sure he heard an ominous voice earlier and considering it was two days away from Samhain, he couldn’t help but fret.

The night the boundary between the two worlds opened carried some painful memories for his family.

Snailing his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, he breathed again when the Fat Lady lifted an eyebrow and muttered. ‘Potters’.

He wondered if he should tell Harry or his friends about the eerie voice.

Samhain 1992

Left with nothing but bitterness filling the air around him, Hadrian lifted his eyes and glared at the rising Blood Moon.

The sight brought nothing but acerbic memories.

He was back to the day he was a four-year-old hysterical child who lost his grandfather.

His instinct for safety had told him that the family’s pillar was gone and he had to sweep the mantle of innocence off and drop any fatuous dreams he had.

The weight of the Potter Heirship lay on his tiny shoulders heavy, overwhelming and unrelenting and like every Potter Heir before him, Hadrian had no choice but to embrace it and renew the oath his ancestors—chosen by Mother Magic as Warriors and Battle Mages—took eons ago.

With heavy steps and a heavier heart, he wandered aimlessly toward the Forbidden Forest under the safety of his Cloak.

The forest was dark, entirely devoid of stars. Were it not for the Blood Moon, he would have lost his way without a Lumos.

Even Forest Faeries and Fireflies knew better than to leave their boltholes this night.

Dark spirits would be given their promised reprieve from their incarceration for the remainder of the night and no Light Creature could survive their pungent magic. 

His friends knew they weren't allowed to approach him in Samhain for nothing and no one could lift his mood until dawn, when the sun of the new day would chase the cursed Blood Moon.

He stumbled to a halt when he heard whispers. 

‘’Ooh, I’m so excited,” Astoria Greengrass cooed.

“Astoria,” what he recognized as Daphne Greengrass said in exasperation. “We shouldn’t be here tonight. You know the sayings about Samhain.”

“But I need this,” Astoria whined. “I spent the last three days in the Hospital Wing and I need contact with the forest. We are Greengrasses, our magic feeds from soil.”

“You are still weak,” Daphne said slowly, softly. “Why don’t we go back? I promise I’ll bring you to the Forbidden Forest tomorrow.”

“Let’s wait for a bit longer, I want to gaze at the Blood Moon,” Astoria rejoiced under her breath. ‘’I’ve never been allowed to back home. Mother thinks it can seep my magic and make my condition worse. I don’t believe that. The forest and the stars would never harm a Greengrass.’’ The short witch said slanting her gaze and her smile on her older sister.

A heavy frown creased Hadrian’s face.

Something was indeed wrong with the younger Greengrass.

He admired the zestful and exuberant girl and her sharp tongue.

To think she was ailing didn’t sit well with him.

Up close, he could see the dark circles under her eyes. Her face was pale and he could tell she wasn’t well.

He was aware that decorum and custom forbade him from getting involved in other Houses’ matters yet he couldn’t help but sympathize with the two sisters.

As an older brother, he was familiar with the protectiveness and worry Daphne was showing.

Astoria’s defiance and lively spirit reminded him of Henry, too.

His thoughts were driven back by the sound of Astoria’s sigh as the Blood Moon rose.

Hadrian shuddered at the sight of the glowing red sphere looming large surrounded by a multitude of pink pinpricks.

Even the sprinkling stars seemed to shy away from showing this night.

Giving the two sisters one last look, he trudged carefully back not wanting to intrude.

‘Hungry…So hungry…’

Henry almost ran Neville down in his urgency to follow the voice. “Here!” he blurted, bringing his hands to the stone wall. ‘’It’s moving!”

“Henry…” Neville said slowly. “You’re scaring me, mate.”

“What’s going on, Henry? What’s moving?” Hermione said worriedly, her large eyes studying the dark corridor.

“Mate…” Ron whispered.

Henry’s heart felt as if it was going to cease or ignite and burst into flames.

Either way, he knew he wasn’t imagining things. 

He heard the bloody voice again.

“Can’t you hear it?’’ he asked as he began to run up the stairs, following the noise.

“Wha—what voice? ‘’ Neville swallowed fearfully as he followed him with hesitant steps.

“I can’t explain now, but I’m hearing a strange voice moving upward. It’s almost like it’s inside the walls if that makes sense at all.”

“Henry,” Ron gripped his arm halting his progress. “It’s a bad omen to hear voices, even by our standards.”

Henry’s stomach lurched but as he opened his mouth to explain, he heard it again and gasped.

‘Blood…I smell blood…’

“It’s going to kill,” he breathed.

With shaking legs, he ran the next flight of stairs not stopping until he turned a corner into the next passage.

“Merlin’s Mercy…” he looked with wide eyes red words dabbed in the wall.

Hermione let out a sound of distress and as his head swivelled her way, he strained to take his next breath.

Mrs Norris was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. By her stillness, he could tell it was dead.

“Henry…” Neville whimpered. “Let’s lea…”

They didn’t get to say another word, though, as a voice cracked the air like a peal of thunder, slicing through Henry’s nerves like never before.

“My cat! Mrs Norris! My sweet...” Argus Filch howled in horror.

Henry’s muscles tightened in readiness when Filch’s accusing eyes sought him. “You!” he shrieked.

He moved in front of his friends, blocking Filch’s view. “We did nothing wrong. Someone else attacked your cat, we were merely caught at the wrong time.”

“Liar!’’

Henry narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, uncaring for the bustle and chattering among the students who started filling the passageway, straining to get a better look, their curiosity too much to ignore.

“I am not a liar, Mr Filch,” Henry stressed every single word with a growl, his eyes as hard as steel.

“Henry,” Ron tugged his robes but he did not lower his gaze, daring the caretaker to rebuke his words.

He wasn’t one to take slander or fake claims easily.

He was a Potter and his word was his honour.

“Potter…” Filch seemed on the verge of lunging on him when a thunderous voice echoed.

“Argus! Enough.”

Professor Dumbledore arrived followed by Snape and McGonagall.

The latter gave him an inquisitive look and he answered with a nonchalant shrug.

It wasn't his fault that trouble seemed to favour him.

“Your cat will be fine,” Dumbledore reassured the troubled caretaker. “It’s not dead. It has been petrified. Now come with me. You too; Mr Potter, Mr Longbotom, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger.”

Henry said nothing as he stood his ground.

Was the Headmaster trying to frame him and his friends?

Singling them out seemed like he was pointing an accusing finger at them while the whole school was watching.

“May I inquire why would you want a private word with my brother and his friends, Professor, while it’s clear as day that they have nothing to do with this unfortunate incident?”

Henry’s shoulders rose as Harry stood by his side, flanked by Cassius and Marcus.

“Petrifying an animal demands a great deal of knowledge and expertise I’m certain my brother does not possess. Yet,” Harry’s eyes were lethal as he blatantly challenged Dumbledore.

He still carried his grudge against the Headmaster and blamed him for what happened eleven years ago.

Henry lay a calming hand on Harry’s forearm knowing that it would not bode well for whoever confronted Harry tonight of all nights.

His mood was always sour and deadly on Samhain. Even their parents and Sirius knew better than to disturb him.

“Mr Potter,” Dumbledore watched them with an intensity that deepened his eyes, all twinkling gone. “I must insist. We have to get to the bottom of this.”

“It’s Potter-Black, Headmaster, and no; we don’t have to do a thing. If you want to interrogate a minor, you need to contact our parents first.”

Harry stood only inches away from him and he could hear the stinging venom in his voice, the harsh snap of his words as he warned the Headmaster.

He saw the surprise and wonder in the professors’ words and surmised they rarely saw Harry in this state.

He couldn’t blame them for few knew the bottomless depths of Harry’s protectiveness and ruthlessness.

“Mr Potter, can you rely upon the events that transpired before we joined you?” McGonagall cleared her throat, giving Dumbledore a meaningful look.

“Very well,” Henry said carefully with a single purpose.

He wouldn’t let his name or that of his friends be linked to this worrisome accident.

Slowly, he told the professors and the students everything that happened since they left the Great Hall.

Of course, he kept the part about the strange voice to himself.

He spotted Harry’s deceiving serene face and knew that he was about to get lectured by his brother on the perils of keeping valuable information to himself, again.

The unrelenting frost in his eyes made his heart falter but he was reassured by the knowledge that Harry would forgive him for keeping things from him anyway.

Harry could never stay angry with him for long.

The Chamber of Secrets was opened…

Everyone seemed to feel the menace of Hadrian’s seething magic and shook from it.

“It's Voldemort's doing,” his voice dripped like sweet acid as he stared into Draco’s eyes.

Fear shot to his cousin’s eyes, coiling around his magic and Hadrian took a deep breath, willing his Black Blood to cool down.

It demanded retribution; it demanded an answer at once for he could smell the looming danger in the air.

“I told you everything I know,” Draco swallowed. “I suspect that even Father doesn’t know much about the item he was anxious to get rid of.”

“I believe you,” Hadrian nodded. “But we need more information.”

“That we do,” Cassius said his lips curling in anger. “If something that resides in Hogwarts can petrify a cat, no one is be safe anymore.”

“You’re right,” Marcus said grimly. “I don’t know of a magic that can do that.”

“Neither do I,” Hestia sounded irritated. 

Adrian seemed to hesitate for a moment. “What about Henry? He’s hiding something.”

Hadrian closed his eyes, leaning in his chair. "He is. Henry is not a child anymore. In a way, I was trying to shield him and postpone the moment in which he would have to step in. I believe I can’t do that anymore.”

Hadrian’s lips twitched with a wistful, faint smile. “Henry is my brother. No wonder he inherited the Potter stubbornness.”

Cassius shook his head. “Sweet Salazar, we can’t handle two of you.”

Hadrian lifted an eyebrow. “But you have to, mate, for I know what he wants like I know he won’t compromise.”

Chapter Text

‘’So, who’s going to win the Quidditch Cup this year?” Sirius teased goodheartedly.

“Come on, Padfoot. Don’t start again,” James sighed.

“But I’m serious,” he grinned widely and everyone groaned.

Hadrian looked at Henry and lifted an eyebrow. “What do you think, brother mine?”

With the thought of victory emblazoned all over his face, the little brat smirked. “I know for a fact that we will win.”

“Is that so?” Hadrian cocked his head to the side.

“Boys,” Lily stepped between them. “It doesn’t matter who wins. Take care of each other and make sure you have loads of fun. Winning is not everything.”

“But Mum, it’s Quidditch,’’ Henry whined.

“So winning is the only thing,” Hadrian finished for him and winked when Lily pursued her lips in disapproval.

“Let’s go. McGonagall is looking our way,” James sounded amused.

“I miss our days with Minnie, Prongs,” Sirius purred. “Do you think she misses us, too?”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Lily rolled her eyes. “At least our sons didn’t take after you.”

“Are you sure about that, Lils? It’s too early to make this bold statement,’’ James’ eyes smouldered with mischief. “I still have faith that the Marauders’ legacy will live through my beloved sons.”

“Don’t count me in, Father. I’ve never had a detention and I don’t plan to start on my OWLS year,” Hadrian stated, ignoring his father’s fake pout.

“Merlin’s Mercy, what have I done? This is Arcturus’ fault.”

“Maybe—‘’ Henry lifted his hand.

“Don’t even think about it. You’d better not get caught doing pranks, or help me. McGonagall’s punishment would be the least of your worries. I’ll make you regret it,” Lily warned fiercely.

“Sorry, Mum,” the brat bowed his head but he didn’t fool Hadrian. He knew what he was up to.

Having the Weasley Twins in the same House didn’t help matters.

“Let’s join our teams. I believe Wood and Marcus won’t appreciate us missing the pre-match pep talk.”

“Don’t remind me,” Henry grimaced.

After bidding their parents goodbye, Hadrian followed after his brother feeling a rush of pure anticipation course through him.

It was the moment he has been waiting for for a week.

Just before they parted ways, each heading for his team, Hadrian gripped Henry’s shoulder and met his gaze, a slow, determined smile spreading across his face. “If I win, you will tell me what you’ve been hiding from me. What do you say?”

Henry pretended to mull over his words, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I was going to tell you anyway but…I like this bet. When I win, I’ll tell you what I want in return.”

“I see,” Hadrian smirked, proud of his brother’s cunning. ‘’Good luck, then.”

“Good luck, Harry.”

They nodded at each other before they walked out onto the pitch.

Henry couldn’t hide his surprise when he learned the identity of the new Slytherin Seeker.

Oliver Wood spent weeks sniffing around to no avail.

Of course, Marcus Flint would pay him back for last year’s prank. Slytherins knew how to hold a grudge and pounce as soon as an opportunity was offered.

Something was different about Malfoy this year.

He didn’t sneer that often, nor did he throw vicious, unbecoming comments at those he considered lesser.

Most importantly, he did not utter his trademark line since their second year started. Hogwarts population was spared the obnoxious ‘My father will hear about this’.

Taking in the changes, Henry had to admit he was impressed.

He was grateful to whatever or whoever prompted this miraculous switch.

“Concentrate,” Oliver stressed, his chest heaving with anticipation. “Where have you been, Henry? You missed the plan. I will repea—“

“No!” Henry blurted. “No need. I know it by heart. I have to get the Snitch before the Slytherin Seeker and forget that I’m playing against my brother. See?”

His answer was a grunt before the Gryffindor Captain sauntered toward his nemesis to shake—crush—hands and start the match.

“Bloody Hell, that was a close call,” Fred whistled as he joined him.

“Yes, you were spared another headache,” George clapped his back. “Bravo but make sure to catch that Snitch. Poor Ollie’s heart can’t handle another loss.”

“No pressure though. Have fun,” Fred winked.

Henry shook his head as he mounted his broom.

He didn’t need Oliver’s lengthy tirades to remember that he had to win.

He wanted to win for he had a score to settle.

He flew higher than the rest of the players and started scanning the pitch, looking for the elusive Snitch.

Malfoy tailed him but he didn’t pay him much heed, not when he knew he hadn’t spotted the prize yet.

All of a sudden, a heavy Bludger pelted his way almost whacking his head.

“What the—“ He gasped.

“Look at that! Did you see what just took place? I told you that Slytherins play dirty! I knew it!” Lee Jordan shouted outraged.

“Mr Jordan!” McGonagall reprimanded him but Henry didn’t get enough time to hear the rest.

Another Bludger changed direction midair and headed straight for him.

“Bloody Hell!” George growled as he hit it with his Bat. “Something is going on, Henry. Be careful.”

Henry nodded and barely avoided the next Bludger. He zoomed in the opposite direction and as expected, it followed him.

Fred and George flanked him, in a desperate effort to swing at it as soon as it got closer. However, Henry couldn’t reduce his speed to match them, not when his safety was in jeopardy.

“Henry!” Harry joined him, his eyes dark with barely suppressed rage. “Climb higher and don’t you dare decrease your speed.”

“But what—“ Henry paled when another Bludger pelted after him.

“Someone had tampered with the Bludgers,” Harry said coldly. “We don’t have much time, just give me a chance to have a hit,” he explained as he retrieved his wand from his holster.

Henry nodded furtively and kept moving at full speed.

He ignored the crowd’s shouts and Lee’s comments. He trusted Harry to deal with the rogue Bludgers.

Cassius joined his brother, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “Marcus won’t like this,” he drawled as he flicked his wand.

“He will survive,” Harry said firmly, flying too close to his left.

Henry’s heart slammed against his ribs as he heard the Bludgers’ wheezes getting closer.

Why me? He wanted to howl but he couldn’t.

“Now! Duck,” Harry shouted and Henry swooped left and then stilled when he heard Harry’s ‘Explodere’.

The first Bludger blew up like fireworks and he took a deep breath.

“Not yet,” Cassius warned.

He spiralled when the second Bludger took over the chase and started getting dizzy by the minute.

He caught sight of his father and Sirius as they ran onto the pitch, no wonder planning to cushion his fall would he lose control of his broom.

Henry growled when he noticed that Malfoy started following the Snitch.

Malfoy saw it.

He twirled in midair hoping that Harry or Cassius would get rid of the rogue Bludger and wasn’t disappointed when he heard another explosion.

Harry sped his way, his eyes scanning him for injuries. “Henry, are you—“

Henry stilled for a moment, smiled then threw over his shoulder as he dived for the shimmering Snitch. “Thank you, brother. I’m fine!”

He was certain he heard Cassius’ chuckle as the two chasers caught on his intention.

He swerved out of Adrian Pucey’s way as he got closer to Malfoy. The latter seemed to sense his pursuit for he tried to gain more speed.

He wasn’t a match for the youngest Seeker in a century, though. Henry’s eyes zeroed on the Snitch and after a fleeting glance down, he jumped.

Wildly, he snatched the prize, closing his hand firmly on it.

He shut his eyes as he headed straight for the ground, knowing that his father and Sirius would be there to catch him.

“And Henry Potter catches the snitch! Yes! Gryffindor wins despite the questionable work done on the Bludgers!” Lee shouted.

Henry wasn’t disappointed. He landed on a big, soft cushion conjured by his father.

“Really?” James’ lips twitched as he tried to smother his grin. “You know that you will get lectured for this, right?”

“But it was a marvellous catch!” Sirius gushed. “Hadrian isn’t going to like this.”

Hermione, Ron and Neville joined them.

“Henry! Are you mad? How could you jump from your broom? You could’ve gotten hurt!” Hermione reprimanded as she tried to straighten his wild hair.

“But you were great!” Ron grinned.

“At least you spared us Oliver’s mopping,” Neville shook his head.

Henry stiffened when Lockhart maundered their way in his bright lime robes.

“The man got no sense of fashion,” Sirius tsked, lifting an eyebrow.

“You have no idea, Lord Black,” Ron groaned.

“Lord Potter, Lord Black, what an enchanting coincidence. I’m sure you’ve heard about me before. Nevertheless, I’ll introduce myself,” Lockhart’s pearly teeth glittered as he giggled like the fool he was. ‘’I’m Gilderoy Lockhart, the new DADA professor.”

“Merlin’s Mercy,” Neville muttered under his breath.

Henry grinned viciously, waiting for his father and Sirius’ reaction to the brute.

Sirius, strategically, pretended to listen. The moment Lockhart offered his hand he tilted his head to the side. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard your name. Are you really the new DADA professor? I’m afraid that you don’t give the impression of someone with enough expertise to take this prestigious position. I wonder…what was Dumbledore thinking when he offered you this job?” he sighed dramatically while his eyes shone with mischief.

James straightened to his full height, which was impressive at 6 ft 4, and looked down at the gaping professor. “My friend is right. I’ve been receiving disturbing letters from my sons. Mr Lockhart, I’ll try to be nice since I’m presuming you were doing it unintentionally but if you stalk Henry again, you won’t like the outcome.”

Ron snorted while Hermione’s eyes became as large as saucers.

“I—Lord Potter, I…” Lockhart stuttered. “I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding! I...I would never—‘’

His father raised his hand. “That’s all. Now please, be gone. I want to have some time with my sons before I leave.”

Henry bit his lower lip as mortification washed over Lockhart’s face. He huffed and swept away in a swirl of blinding lime robes.

“Good riddance,” Neville whispered.

“Nev!” Hermione gasped.

His godbrother blushed but held her gaze. “What? He’s obnoxious and a fake. I don’t believe a thing he claims.”

“You’re right, son,” James nodded. “I’ve been hearing disturbing rumours about him. I hope they’re wrong.”

“His vanity doesn’t help, though,” Sirius mused.

“Enough with Lockhart, where’s Hadrian?” James looked around.

“He’s comforting Flint most probably. I need to talk to him,” Henry sighed.

Hadrian looked at the changing rooms’ door with so much longing.

“He’s devastated,” Cassius quipped. “And it’s all your fault.’’

“What did you expect me to do? Let my brother be knocked down by a rogue Bludger?” he replied sarcastically.

“Only, your little brother is more devious than what we gave him credit for. The nerve on that shorty,” Adrian chuckled.

“The Cup is not lost to us yet. This was but the first match,” Hadrian ran a hand through his wet hair. “Help Marcus understand, I don’t have the required patience for his petulance.”

“Easier said than done,” Cassius sighed.

Hadrian rolled his eyes and threw the towel on his shoulders down. With a wave of his wand, he was meticulously dressed in his school robes.

He gritted his teeth in annoyance as he remembered what transpired half an hour ago.

Afraid to consider what might have happened to Henry was he too slow to react or somehow, unable to notice the threat, he forced his eyes closed and took a calming breath that did nothing to placate the monster inside him calling for blood.

He had to be careful, bloody careful if he wanted his brother to survive this year. His instincts told him that the worst was yet to come.

A surge of pride fairly overwhelmed him when he remembered the look in Henry’s eyes when he smirked and dived after the second Bludger was taken care of.

His outward appearance showed nothing but a determined and composed exterior and an unbending will.

At that moment, Hadrian knew that his team was about to lose.

The sound of a loud and furious gasp made his head swivel in the door’s direction.

He blew out a sigh when Marcus’ eyes narrowed on his brother, who was waiting for him nonchalantly.

“I need a word with you, Hadrian.’’

The Slytherin Quidditch Team players stared at Henry intently, hardly able to believe his audacity.

No one uttered an objection, though. He was their King’s brother and as such, offending, confronting or Merlin Forbid, attacking him would have dire consequences.

Hadrian exchanged a knowing glance with Cassius and left the changing rooms.

The pitch was vacant at last. It seemed the Gryffindors decided to start celebrating without their star player.

“You did a good job earlier, Henry. But make sure you don’t have a repeat. Father and Sirius won’t always be there to catch you.”

“I know,” Henry grinned sweetly. “I saw my chance and had to snatch it. I’m not a fool; I know I wasn’t in danger after you—so graciously—took care of the imminent threat.”

Outwardly oblivious to his brother’s antics and frank appraisals, Hadrian crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Henry gave him a quick smile. “We had a bet before the match.”

“Yes,” Hadrian quirked an eyebrow.

“Alright, I tried to find an answer before consulting you for guidance but for the life of me, I can’t,” Henry’s shoulders slumped and instinctively, Hadrian guided him to the first row of stands and urged him to take a seat.

“I’ve been hearing strange voices no one else seems to catch.”

Hadrian heard what it took for his brother to confess his fears.

Eerie voices were nothing good. Wixen associated them with Obscure Magic and Cursed Creatures.

He understood Henry’s reluctance to breach the matter before he was certain that he wasn’t hallucinating or the unfortunate victim of a bad prank.

“I’m not imagining things, I’m sure. I tried to—“ Henry swallowed and took out his pendant, seeking strength from their Bond. “It started the night I had a detention with Lockhart a week ago.”

“I’m not going to lie, I don’t like the sound of this,” Hadrian said bluntly. “Not if we try to make sense of the words we found on the wall in Samhain. It was a message, a threat.”

“I know,” Henry said in a small voice. “Do you think he’s—“ He clenched his hands.

“Yes. It’s his doing. Somehow, he managed to infiltrate the school again. You have to be extra careful this year, Henry. If what I fear is true, no one will flee the Monster’s clutches,” he warned, keeping his eyes glued to Henry’s widening orbs.

“Monster?”

“Of course,” Hadrian lay an arm over Henry’s shoulders sensing his need for an anchor. “Grandfather Arcturus reported tales of Salazar Slytherin’s Familiar. It’s a majestic, fearsome Creature that can be controlled only by his rightful Heir. What do you expect it to be?” He asked.

“A snake without a doubt,” Henry shrugged.

“You’re right. Someone as talented and exceptional as Salazar wouldn’t take any snake as his familiar, though. He would have nothing but the king of the serpents,” Hadrian stressed the last words.

“The king of serpents? You mean a big, more venomous one?” Henry wondered.

“Now that Grandfather Arcturus is fine, I’ll see personally to your schooling this summer,” Hadrian promised with a teasing uplifting of his lips.

“What! But I’ve been taking my classes seriously. I’m among the Top five, I’m no slouch,” Henry said in indignation.

“I know. However, you need to expand your knowledge to the limit and beyond if you want to have a fair chance at the upcoming fight. Studying Magical Creatures is crucial. Voldemort sought Giants, Inferi, Harpies and Dementors in the first war. Who says he won’t do it again?”

Henry nodded in defeat.

“The king of serpents is the Basilisk. Only a wizard with Slytherin’s blood and a tremendous raw power can control it.”

Henry paled. “A Basilisk?”

Hadrian waited for him to catch on. The night Filch’s cat was petrified; he sent a letter to Arcturus asking for advice.

It didn’t take long for the previous Lord Black to weave a disturbing theory. No one could understand the Basilsk’s tongue, none but a Parselmouth.

Hadrian wanted to confront Henry first before he relayed the information to their parents. It was his right.

“I’m afraid, yes,” Hadrian confirmed gently. “If the legend is true, Salazar’s familiar is an over thousand years old Basilisk that somehow woke up lately.”

“But, why only me can hear its voice? If it's roaming the corridors, more people should’ve noticed its presence,” Henry narrowed his eyes.

“Grandfather Arcturus suggested a way to find out,” Hadrian clasped Henry’s stiff shoulder. “Can you—“

“Do it,” Henry gritted his teeth. “I’m not afraid and I’m not a child. If I am the only one who can hear its voice then there must be a reason for that. I’m not hiding behind your back anymore, brother. I want to help. I want to fight because I know that we will win. We won’t lose to that bastard again,” his voice dripped with resolve and Hadrian couldn’t be prouder.

He would admit that someplace deep, deep inside, someplace beyond the stone walls he erected years ago around his heart, there was a part of him that wanted to hide Henry far away and make sure he didn’t engage in the fight.

He couldn’t do that, though. 

His family had been all he had for his whole life. He would do anything, and risk everything for them including his life. They were the reason blood and magic flowed in his veins. 

Henry was the same, because he was his brother, because he was a Potter.

Now that he stopped seeing him as someone to shield and protect at all costs, he understood his need to spread his wings and find a purpose of his own.

Even if that purpose was a deadly one with war hovering on their doorstep.

“Concentrate,” he warned before he flicked his wand and murmured. ‘Serpensortia’.

Henry looked at him for a heartbeat and he could pinpoint at the moment understanding washed over him.

He fixed the small Adler with intent eyes and waited.

The snakelet hissed, seemingly infuriated by being brought unceremoniously from its homeland.

Hadrian’s heart beat at a wild pace as Henry started talking.

In Parseltongue.

Without much thought, he waved his wand. ‘Vipera Evanesca’.

“I am a Parselmouth,” Henry said, his voice shivering.

“You are,” Hadrian answered without hesitation.

With a slow, graceful movement, he brushed the hair from Henry’s cold forehead and bared his scar—the one he always hid under his wild hair.

“But how? We’re not related to Salazar Slytherin, are we? We’re the last blood of Godric Gryffindor,” Henry blinked confused.

“You’re right. I know it’s overwhelming and vexing but we’ll get to the bottom of this eventually,’’ Hadrian promised. “For now, make sure that no one learns of your secret talent.”

Henry looked unconvinced and he sighed. “Henry, try to look at this unprompted revelation differently. It is a gift, another weapon we can use against our common foe. Think about the newly offered prospects.”

Henry bit his lip and a small smirk started showing. “I can live with that.”

“Of course you can, brat,” Hadrian ruffled his hair. “Now, let’s find out how did Voldemort manage to awaken the monster.”

Daphne Greengrass cracked the door open, her magic raging and looking for an outlet.

Earlier, Professor Snape summoned her and as gently as expected from someone like him, reported what happened an hour ago.

Astoria and her Muggleborn friend, Colin Creevey, were found petrified in the third floor’s bathroom.

Daphne gritted her teeth furiously.

She knew of her sister’s fascination with the new events haunting the school since Samhain.

No wonder, she was looking for an answer. She loved nothing more than uncovered mysteries.

Astoria started developing an unexpected friendship with Creevey and Luna Lovegood. They spent hours in the library together daily, doing homework and chatting and planning Merlin knew what.

Daphne didn’t mind. All that she wanted for her sister is to be happy and accepted for what she was.

The Gryffindor first year and the Ravenclaw odd girl seemed to fulfil that requirement. She noticed how lively her sister was as of late.

Her breath caught high in her throat and her blood ran cold as she came upon her sister’s still form.

Her parents were already there.

“Daphne,” Lord Cyrill Greengrass sighed as he noticed her.

“Father, How—“ She whispered, her thoughts already tossed like leaves in a whirlwind.

“We don’t know,” Cynthia Rosier Greengrass hissed. “My poor child…I didn’t see this coming, otherwise—“

“No,” Daphne said coldly. “Astoria would never accept being denied the right to enrol in Hogwarts and live her dream. You can’t do that to her, Mother.”

Cynthia’s face fell and with a shaking hand, she traced Astoria’s heart-shaped face. ‘’I know. I would never subject her to that.”

Daphne nodded, her eyes fixed on Astoria’s wide orbs.

“I will find a way. I know someone who can help me,” she gave her parents a determined look.

“Who? Even Dumbledore seemed powerless when we sought his assistance earlier. All we can do is wait for the draught made of Mandrake roots and wish for the best,” Cyrill pursued his lips in annoyance and helplessness.

Daphne shook her head. “It won’t be enough. Whoever did this to my sister has to pay. Dearly. We are Greengrasses, we don’t forget neither do we forgive.”

“Daphne…” Cynthia’s smile was sad.

Daphne kissed Astoria’s cold forehead and headed for the door.

She had a meeting with the most powerful wizard in her House, the one who made an oath two years ago to protect every snake.                                                       

Chapter Text

Daphne didn’t bother with fake pleasantries.

She ignored the few acquaintances who blocked her way, asking for her attention, and dashed as gracefully as she could manage toward the Slytherin Common Room.

When she reached her destination, she chased away any hesitation she felt earlier and headed toward the upper years gathered around the fireplace.

She knew she was acting irrationally and so out of character but she didn’t care.

Her blood called for retribution and she would have nothing less.

The moment she sensed the tug at the Sibling Bond she shared with Astoria, breath left her.

When her ability to think returned, she was ushered to Professor Snape’s office.

Logically, she knew that Astoria was going to be fine. As a Greengrass, she was familiar with Mandrake roots and their uses.

She couldn’t content herself with that, though.

The injustice outraged her.

Whoever hurt Astoria had to pay. Dearly.

She didn’t fumble or stutter when she met Cassius Warrington’s piercing eyes. “I want to talk to Potter-Black.”

If he was startled by her sudden request, he didn’t let it show.

“Excuse me?” Hestia Carrow drawled. “Why would a second-year want to talk to Hadrian?”

Daphne’s gaze sharpened on the fifth year. “It is a personal matter.” She had no idea why she was bothered by the brunette’s prying but she wouldn’t satisfy her unwarranted curiosity.

“Did you hear that, sister mine? Greengrass thinks she’s entitled to—“

“Enough,” Warrington’s jaw clamped down and his lips tightened as he addressed the infuriating twins.

Then to her, he said. “Is it an urgent matter? Do you need help? We heard about what happened to Astoria. I’m sorry you have to go through this but she will be fine.”

Daphne’s face turned to granite as she gave him a curt nod. “It concerns Astoria, indeed. I require Potter-Black’s assistance in a matter of utmost importance.’’

Warrington, wisely, held her gaze as he studied her with keen eyes. “Very well. Follow me.”

Daphne obeyed, taking his offer with a grateful heart.

They left the Common Room and travelled the deserted corridors for a while until they reached a classroom she had never known existed before.

She kept her gaze fixed as she followed him to where Potter-Black was doing Merlin knows what.

But as they drew nearer, she could not prevent the chill from settling deep in her bones.

A less welcoming place she could not imagine.

She sensed the wards that protected the room part like an ephemeral curtain the moment Warrington pointed his wand at them and started muttering under his breath.

There was something cold and desolate about the place, but also menacing.

Not unlike the wizard who was inside, she thought with a shiver.

She heard tales about the King's prowess with a wand and how Dark his magic was.

Despite the harrowing circumstances, a faint smile crossed her lips.

She would like nothing more than to have Tracy here at this moment.

Her friend wouldn’t believe that there was more to Potter-Black than what met the eye.

He wasn’t merely an exceptional student with faultless manners and a charming smile.

More than once, she caught glimpses of the darkness that lurked behind his bright eyes.

It mixed seamlessly with the startling green and she wondered why only a few could notice it.

Warrington eyed her blankly. “Hadrian has probably noticed our presence. Nevertheless, stay behind. We don’t want you to get you accidentally hurt.”

Daphne wasn’t certain if condescension or genuine worry coloured his words. 

From what little she knew about Cassius Warrington, he was an honourable wizard and the future Leader of the Grey Faction; her faction.

Her back hard and unyielding, she remained a step behind as he opened the door.

Her eyes widened in shock, getting her first personal glimpse of the cold ruthlessness that made Hadrian Potter-Black a vaunted King and feared wizard.

Though she had grown up accustomed to her parents spending at least an hour daily in the Duelling Room, what she beheld seemed extreme for students who wanted to have an O in DADA.

Despite the several pairs duelling, she picked up Potter-Black right away.

It wasn’t just his tall frame and dark hair that gave him away but the authority and command emanating from him.

As she watched, spellbound, the members of the Court go through several spell chains; throwing and tossing and dodging lethal curses, she began to sense that something was odd.

Her gaze went again to Potter-Black who was duelling Marcus Flint.

The duel was brutal with a deadly edge.

Her heart pounded and she knew had she been a lesser witch; her knees would’ve buckled from the strain of the suffocating Dark Magic that made breathing a winding task.

It was almost like a dance, with each wizard taking turns attacking and evading the curses thrown his way. 

“More,” Potter-Black goaded.

“Laedere!” Flint growled, his eyes dark with the heat of the battle.

Potter-Black grinned and whispered. “Protego Maxima.”

An impenetrable shield of pure silver surrounded him.

Flint’s spell dissipated when it met the unwavering wall of magic.

“Argentum Aagitta,” Potter-Black threw the moment his shield was down.

The sound of the cursed arrows crashing against the marble wall Flint conjured made her blink.

“You’re not the only one with a few tricks, Hadrian,” Flint smirked.

“Is that so?” the green-eyed wizard smiled evilly. 

In a smooth move that Marcus seemed to predict, he jumped, wrapped his leg around the taller guy and grabbed his wand hand.

Marcus scooted forward to catch himself from falling. “Bloody Hell! Not your Muggle Martial Arts again!”

“I told you not to ignore your physical training,” Potter-Black replied.

In the blink of an eye, he had his wand at his opponent’s neck.

Marcus Flint groaned and fell to his knees.

For a horrifying moment, Daphne thought he meant to curse him at point blank. 

She sighed with relief when Potter-Black reached down to help the other wizard to his feet.

Eyes glued to the drama unfolding in the abandoned classroom, she hadn't realized that a few of the other students watched her with questioning eyes.

But she did now.

She smothered her bewildered expression and looked at Warrington.

If he was amused, he hid it well. “It was impossible to interrupt the duel. Both wouldn’t appreciate that.”

“I don’t mind,” she said coolly. “It was rather interesting.”

“Had you been on the receiving end of Hadrian’s wand, you wouldn’t have thought so,” Warrington cocked a brow and with the ominous veiled warning ringing in her ears, he headed toward his best friend.

Potter-Black’s gaze caught hers as he listened to Warrington.

Most of the students who had been duelling moved toward the door while Pucey and Flint lingered.

Suddenly anxious, she waited.

Potter-Black’s gaze softened just a little as he waved his wand over his Dragon Hide armour; no doubt murmuring a Cleansing Charm.

He approached her with predatory, precise steps until she had to lift her head to look at his closed-off face.

“Heiress Greengrass. How can I help you?” His voice was neutral and gave nothing away.

“Were you informed about what happened to Astoria?” she asked.

His eyes darkened. “Of course, I was. I wish she didn’t have to go through this. Professor Sprout promised to work harder on the Mandrake Roots juice.”

Eerie stillness filled the room as she refused to lower her gaze. “I believe you are good friends.”

Pucey’s eyes widened but she was way past caring.

“She’s someone I like spending time with. She’s a resourceful witch with a promising future.”

“Then, what are you going to do?” Divergent threads of emotions wound together, twisting and swirling inside her in a torrential storm just waiting to be unfurled.

She swore that his upper lip curled with a barely-there smile.

It was so fleeting she wondered if she hadn’t just imagined the whole thing. “I beg your pardon?”

“Would you help me avenge her? Whoever or whatever is petrifying students has to pay.”

Flint gave her a sharp nod and she read respect in his dark eyes.

Every inch of her body strained under the pressure of Potter-Black's magic the moment he released it. 

“So, you want revenge?”

“Nothing less would do for the injustice my sister and the other students were dealt with.”

The smile that tugged at the corners of his lips was dazzling. “Heiress Greengrass, we have been looking into this matter even before Astoria got petrified. We made some progress but we need more information to catch the perpetrator. Make no mistake, though, we will catch him.” The cold steel in his voice cut her off as decisively as the wand he wielded with such expertise.

Daphne’s stiff shoulders slumped in relief. “I know that you plan to handle this. But I want in. I want to help in any way I can.”

“Heiress Greengrass,” Cassius Warrington warned softly.

“No. I know that your brother; Henry Potter and his friends are investigating the creature roaming the corridors. I am a year older so I can take care of myself. I am not helpless nor do I need protection,” she insisted with a mutinous tone.

Something passed through Potter-Black’s eyes; surprise, disbelief and maybe a bit of respect.

However, she didn’t care.

All that mattered was for her to help avenge her sister and make sure that the culprit paid for his misdeeds.

“I like her. I really do. Can we have her tag along?” Adrian Pucey grinned widely.

Potter-Black ignored his friend’s enthusiasm and met her gaze again.

Confronted by his piercing emerald eyes, it was really hard to fight the need to submit and lower her gaze.

“Very well. I appreciate the offer. I believe I have the perfect task for you.”

Her features must have shown her relief for he tilted his head and added gently. “I would have avenged Astoria anyway, but I understand your need to protect your sister. From now on, you may call me Hadrian.”

Her eyes widened slightly at the raw emotion in his voice.

The King gave her his consent to use his first name and she understood how meaningful the simple gesture was.

First names meant more familiarity. 

Only family members, friends and trusted ones were granted the privilege of using them.

She recovered quickly and let her features soften a bit. “Thank you, Hadrian. For everything. I know that you've been helping Astoria with homework and trying to answer her endless queries. Please, do call me Daphne.”

What she didn’t say was that she suspected that her sister considered him an older brother and a mentor.

He inclined his head before he smirked. “So you want to help. How about you use your stealth and start tailing Miss Ginerva Weasley?”

Daphne couldn’t hold back her curiosity. “You think she’s involved?”

The answer came from Cassius Warrington. “We know she’s involved thanks to a friend’s tip. You will find the answer with her.”

As sanity ebbed through the madness, Daphne was a bit dazed.

She wondered how resourceful was the Court.

Henry grimaced as Lockhart sauntered onto the stage in his radiant mauve robes.

“Good Godric. Who trusted this fool with the Duelling Club? Isn’t it enough that he’s our DADA professor?”

“Hard luck, mate. I can’t help but wish that by the end of the year he’ll vanish like Quirrell,” Dean Thomas sighed.

“Boys!” Hermione gasped.

“Come now, Hermione. He’s a fraud,” Ron groaned.

As they edged into the boisterous crowd, Henry’s eyes sought his brother.

He noticed Flint’s head thanks to his inhuman height and smiled.

Always attuned to his magical signature and the Sibling Bond that linked them, Harry’s head snapped his way.

The bored look in his eyes said it all.

Henry shook his head and prayed for this ordeal to be over.

The weight of his promise was stifling but he gave his word and as a Potter, he would never break it.

The only progress he made since the first Quidditch match was that he became aware of Ginny Weasley’s odd behaviour.

He couldn’t get closer and investigate for he knew how things would pan out if he fell into that trap.

He was startled when a small blond; wearing Ravenclaw colours stood next to him.

She acted as if she had done nothing more than go for a pleasant stroll rather than ignored her housemates and joined his group.

“Hello,” she said in a pleasant voice.

“Good evening, Miss…” Henry bit his lower lip when he realized that he didn’t know her name.

“I’m Luna Lovegood. Colin Creevey is my best friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. But don’t worry. The cure will be ready soon,” he tried to assuage her fears.

“Luna?” Ron blurted. “What are you doing here?”

“Ronald! How could you—‘’ Hermione sounded incensed at their friend’s impudence.

“She’s our neighbour and I—“ Ron retorted with so much heat.

“Mate, shut it,” Neville hissed.

“I’m sorry Miss Lovegood,” Henry apologized.

His eyes flared when the short girl lifted her head and he met her glowing silver eyes.

“Henry Potter, your secret shall not be revealed tonight.”

Shudders slid down his back as he heard her soft warning.

“But how—“ he wheezed.

She blinked and looked away, severing the connection.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I just miss my friends. See you around, Henry Potter.”

Luna Lovegood spun on her heel and stalked off.

“Weird…” Henry muttered under his breath.

“Did she say something? Don’t mind her she’s a bit strange,” Ron rolled his eyes.

Henry wasn’t so certain.

Her words held so much truth.

His secret…

His head swivelled as he looked for her to no avail.

“Professor Snape agreed, kindly, to assist me,” Lockhart boasted.

“Merlin’s Mercy, he’s so done,’’ Neville chuckled.

“Well, he deserves it,” Henry smirked.

They watched with bated breath as Lockhart and Snape faced each other.

Snape’s wand jerked with anticipation and Henry wondered how could the foul not sense it.

They cried Expelliarmus at once and no one was surprised when Lockhart flew backwards until he smashed into the opposite wall.

Many students cheered indifferent to the Professor’s humiliation.

Henry ignored him and looked at Neville. “Do you fancy a duel with me? Let’s try more useful spells. Expelliarmus sounds like a coward’s way to avoid a real fight.”

Neville nodded. “I agree. What if the opponent has a second wand or received help from one of his friends?”

“Alright, let’s start duelling,” Lockhart’s voice boomed in the Great Hall. “But before we start, I think we’ll need another demonstration. How about…”

Henry groaned.

Despite his father’s warning, he knew that the man wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Henry Potter. Yes, come over here.”

“Bloody Hell,” he cursed under his breath as he dragged his feet toward the stage.

“I think we have to pick up another second year,” Snape drawled. “Mr Malfoy, would you join us, please?”

Draco Malfoy seemed uncomfortable with the sudden attention.

Henry locked gazes with his foe. “Malfoy.”

“Potter,” Malfoy nodded. “I have nothing to do with this. It seems that my dear Godfather is under the illusion that there’s bad blood between us.”

Henry smirked. “Let’s give him the opposite of what he’s waiting for, then. He would never predict a clean duel.”

Malfoy’s clear eyes shimmered with amusement. “I wouldn’t mind trying that.”

“Face off,” Lockhart shouted. “And remember. Only disarm. Start!”

“Rictusempra,” Henry grinned.

Malfoy’s eyes widened in alert before he doubled over, unable to stifle his laugh.

“I said Disarming Charm!” Lockhart whined.

“Sorry, Professor. But we reckoned we’d give our friends a good show,” Henry said innocently.

He barely whispered a Finite Incantatem, when Malfoy took his revenge with a Conversus Viridi.

Henry arched a brow. “Really? Green hair.”

“You should show some support to your brother, Potter,” Malfoy lifted his chin stubbornly.

“Boys, this is not—“ Lockhart screamed but they ignored him.

They exchanged a couple of jinxes for the sole reason of annoying Snape.

“He’s going to kill us,” Malfoy hissed.

“He wouldn’t dare,” Henry winked.

Malfoy’s eyes went to the bat looming over them for a split second and lightning fast, Henry raised his wand and shouted. “Expelliarmus.”

Malfoy’s wand flew his way and using his Seeker instinct, he jumped and caught it.

His opponent was dazzled. “You—“

“I am the winner,” Henry turned his charming smile toward Snape who seemed on the verge of bursting with anger.

“And Henry Potter wins. Congratulations for mastering the Disarming Charm,” Lockhart announced.

“Duh. It’s a stupid spell. I doubt I’d ever use it,” he mumbled.

“Give me my wand back, Potter,” Malfoy extended his hand.

The moment Henry handed it over, Malfoy whispered. “Be mindful of Ginerva Weasley. And…” he licked his lips and lowered his voice. “If, perchance, you stumble upon a strange-looking diary, don’t open it. Just….just give it to Hadrian and he’ll know how to deal with it.”

The fear in Malfoy’s voice was impossible to ignore. “Are you—“ Henry started.

“Goodbye, Potter. Take care.” Malfoy left in a hurry and he wanted to shake him until he confessed everything he knew.

So, was Malfoy secretly spying for Harry?

Anyway, he didn’t need his advice to know that Ron’s sister was hiding something.

The cold in her bones could only be described as rage as she stalked her prey.

The pounding in her heart did not subside as she followed Ginerva Weasley to the third floor’s bathroom.

She was aware of the reason Hadrian picked her up for this mission.

It would've seemed strange if Pucey or the Carrow twins tailed her.

Daphne, as a second-year, wouldn’t raise any red flags.

She was running out of excuses to give to Tracy but she couldn’t stop, not now that she was almost there.

A great flood of water stretched over the corridor and she made sure that she didn’t make much noise.

Her eyes narrowed on the feathers laying innocuously on the floor.

It was sticking to Weasley’s hair before it dropped down.

She made sure that her Disillusionment Charm was holding before she followed her inside. 

“I’m…I’m scared…” Came Weasley’s miserable voice as she gripped her hair and gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

Daphne noticed right away the small black book the redhead was eyeing warily.

She bid her time, waiting for her to wipe her tears and regain her composure.

She knew beforehand what she was about to do. 

“I c-can’t. I can’t keep you with me anymore, I’m …I’m afraid!” Weasley whispered then wheeled on her feet and bolted out.

“Who’s here?” Moaning Myrtle shouted emerging from the toilet.

“It’s me. Keep quiet,” Daphne ordered.

Her gaze unflinching, she clutched her prize with a steady hand.

Chapter Text

Hadrian leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands over his chest, his eyes narrowed on the dairy laying inconspicuously over the small table.

He was impressed by the shrewdness of Lucius Malfoy.

Who would suspect Ginerva Weasley; the daughter of one of the Lightest families in Magical Britain to bring something so deadly to Hogwarts?

“The Dark magic this diary contains is unbelievable. I had never sensed something so stifling,” Cassius pointed out, his eyes glued to the item.

This statement coming out of the Magic Sentient further troubled Hadrian.

“I know. I can barely suppress the need to touch it,” he clenched his jaw. 

Daphne Greengrass lifted her icy-blue eyes to him. “Ginerva Weasley was in a pitiful condition. The enchanted object took its toll on her and I believe it would be a while before she recovers.”

Hadrian nodded. “Henry reported how strange she’d been acting for weeks. We’ll make sure she’s alright after we take care of the matter at hand. We can’t alert whoever planned all this.”

“You mean that the man who slipped the diary in Weasley’s cauldron is not the mastermind?” Adrian gave him a meaningful look.

“Of course not. Lucius Malfoy might be a nuisance but he’s not this adept at Olde Magic. It takes a Master to craft something this faultless,” Hadrian mused. “The name though. It’s strange. I’ve never heard of this Tom Riddle.”

“I believe he’s a Muggleborn. But then, his middle name…” Marcus scratched his jaw.

“The only Marvolo I know of is Lord Marvolo Gaunt. He perished and so did his son; Morfin. His daughter, Merope just vanished one day. Some people believe he killed her because she was a Squib. Due to inbreeding, the family succumbed to the Gaunt Madness. Grandfather told me they solely spoke Parseltongue,” Cassius provided.

Suspicion welled inside Hadrian’s mind at Cassius’ reminder.

“We have to look into this. I know who to ask. For now, let’s keep looking for the Chamber of Secrets; the answer lies there.”

When everyone nodded, he addressed Daphne. “I do appreciate the help. Can I ask you to keep tailing Weasley? It won’t be easy to recover from the strain of the foul magic.”

Daphne glared at the diary. “I intended to do that even before you asked. I might not hold any affection for the girl, but she’s my sister’s age and every member of her family seems oblivious to her plight. I will keep my eyes on her.”

Hadrian was surprised by her statement.

Every Slytherin knew better than to expect kindness from Daphne Greengrass. However, he learned early not to trust appearances. Every action held a story behind it; a memory, an experience that the person concerned might not want to share with others.

Not everyone did appreciate letting strangers see their scars and Daphne seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders.

He wasn’t going to ask, though. It was not his place to intrude and pester his Housemates but he was always there for anyone who needed him.

“Very well,” he retrieved the diary and put her in the silver box he conjured earlier. “I’ll keep this for now. Let’s head to class and make sure that you do not mention this new development. At this stage, we can trust no one.”

“Are you telling me that you went back to the place where Astoria Greengrass and Colin Creevey were petrified?” Henry gasped. “Merlin’s Mercy, are you out of your mind? You could’ve gotten hurt!” he growled, glaring at his best friend.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You were busy with Quidditch, Ron and Neville seemed too scared so I didn’t ask them.”

“You could’ve waited for me, Hermione,” he huffed.

“I appreciate the concern, Henry, but I was safe at all times, I promise,” Hermione smiled and clasped his hand.

He looped an arm around her shoulder. “You are one of my best friends, you know that, right? Please, don’t act so ruthlessly again.”

Hermione kissed his cheek. “I won’t I promise. I just wanted to find an answer. I can’t stand this nightmare anymore. What if they close Hogwarts? What would we do about this year’s curriculum? And then we have the exams. I—“

‘’Hermione ! ‘’ Henry shook his friend. “Everything is going to be fine. We are fine, take it easy.”

“But—“

“No buts. We are Gryffindors, we don’t believe in fear or failure. I had a talk with Hadrian and he’s already working on catching the culprit with the Court’s help. We’re close to solving this case,” he tried to assuage his friend’s fears.

What he didn’t expect was for Hermione’s eyed to turn into slits. “Then I must talk to him. At once. What I found out in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom will help him tremendously,” she shot him a challenging gaze and he knew she wouldn’t back up. Not when her education was in jeopardy.

Her hand tightened on his and he arched a black brow quizzically. “Are you certain you want to talk to Hadrian?”

She nodded and he almost groaned when her cheeks turned bright red. “I mean, he’s a resourceful wizard, isn’t he? He’s excruciatingly protective of you and everyone knows he’s one of the most talented student in Hogwarts.”

“Yes, unfortunately, he is,” Henry sighed, then under his breath he added. “He’s too good for my peace of mind. I don’t know if I should be thankful or scared.”

The most fascinating thing about the Gryffindor Quadro was that they dealt with everything together.

Hadrian had never anticipated the strong bond his brother would forge with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. 

Neville didn’t count; he was Henry’s Godbrother and the vow their parents took when the two wizards were born would never be broken. They were brothers in Magic, and only Death could separate them and sever the tether.

Ron Weasley threw a cautious glance at him and his smile widened.

He knew the infuriatingly Light wizard was wary. Sadly, he was taught that Dark equalled evil and there was no doubt that Hadrian Potter-Black was a Dark wizard.

He hoped that as he grew up and started thinking for himself, he would understand that Magic was Might and only a fool would care about magical affinity. 

Light, Grey or Dark... it didn’t matter as long as the witch or wizard in question used their gift to fight for what he believed in; to help those in need, to protect and shield.

“I gathered some information that might help,” Hermione said bluntly. “I know you’ve been looking into the petrifications.”

The statement was matter-of-fact, there was no hesitation in her tone. 

Hadrian cocked his head and looked questioningly at his brother.

Henry shrugged and lowered his eyes, running his fingers over Hedwig’s pearly feathers.

“Hermione has been working hard on the case since Colin was petrified. I believe her tip will help,” Neville managed without stammering and Hadrian felt a flicker of pride that the shy lion started recognizing his abilities.

“Very well,” he leaned against the Owlery’s door and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d appreciate any help I can get.”

He was a pragmatist. Naturally, he could not afford to refuse help in any form or shape.

Hermione Granger being the brightest witch of her age did help, too.

“I—“ she cleared her throat and jutted her chin up. “I’ve been to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom several times after Colin’s incident. I managed to put some facts together thanks to my chats with Moaning Myrtle and…” the small brunette’s eyes shone with satisfaction. “I studied the bathroom thoroughly.”

Ron Weasley groaned. “Come on Hermione, I can’t handle the anticipation anymore.”

“I do quite admire the way Miss Granger’s mind works. Please, take your time,” Hadrian drawled and ignored Henry’s frown.

“Thank you,” Hermione murmured, giving him a grateful smile.

Henry reported how she never had friends before coming to Hogwarts. It must have been hard for the bright witch.

“All the sinks in the bathroom look the same except for one. There’s a snake-engraved sink tap. And then, according to my research, the Creature we’re looking for must be a snake; a big one…” Hermione bit her lower lip.

“Go on,” Hadrian coaxed gently.

“Well, Greengrass and Colin weren’t harmed physically; more like petrified. I found some interesting books about Magical Creatures in the library.”

Neville chuckled. “Of course, you did.”

Hermione shrugged. “The most logical guess is that the Creature is a Basilisk. Someone as vain—“ her eyes widened when she noticed her almost slip. She cleared her throat. “I mean, everyone knows that Salazar Slytherin was a bit conceited. He would never settle for anything but the King of the Serpents.

Hadrian smirked. “He might’ve been a bit conceited, but you can’t deny that he’s the most talented Potioneer to ever live. He’s a Parselmouth as well. He descends from one of the oldest magical families in the world. Not to mention, he helped build this school. He’s entitled to have our utmost respect.’’

Hermione’s face bloomed with heat. “He—Yes, you’re right. And come to think of it, there’s no concrete proof that he set his familiar to harm Muggleborns.”

“Maybe, he kept it here in case Hogwarts’ population got under attack. Familiars are known to be overly protective of their Masters,” Neville provided.

“But—“ Ron spluttered.

“The Basilisk is unhinged now and in no shape to carry its mission,” Henry looked at his redhead friend pointedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Back to the matter at hand. According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, looking a Basilisk directly in the eye is known to cause instant death, but an indirect look would merely render the victim Petrified. Greengrass and Colin merely glimpsed the Basilisk’s reflection in the mirror. Moaning Myrtle said they were in her bathroom when it happened. Astoria Greengrass wasn’t feeling well at the time, and knowing that the bathroom is abandoned, Colin accompanied her to make sure his friend was fine.”

Hadrian’s brows knitted in concentration. 

He had his suspicions, after all, Daphne found the Diary in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

“The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is on the second-floor girls' lavatory.” It wasn’t a question anymore, it was a statement.

“Hadrian—“ Henry said.

Hadrian was certain that his brother would not react passively to the news.

Henry stared at him with a desperate calculation that he understood all too well. 

He couldn’t help but nod. Little Henry was magnificent in his anger. He could almost taste the Potter Magic filling the air.

A great icy calmness settled over him. “If you would not mind, I would like to have a few minutes alone with Henry.”

What he hadn’t foreseen was for Hermione, Ron and Neville to glare at him. 

It was the latter who spoke first. “We won’t be impartial onlookers. We want in. Henry is my brother and our friend.”

“We know that something is going on since last year. It concerns what happened thirteen years ago,” Ron added.

“We’ll fight side by side with Henry,” Hermione said sternly. Ron and Neville nodded jerkily, their gazes steady.

“Guys,” Henry said softly.

“Very well,” Hadrian responded evenly. “We’ll get to that later but first, I really need to talk to my brother. Right now.”

The trio nodded begrudgingly and left the Owlery.

“So, do you think you can trust your friends with your secret? I can’t make that decision for you, Henry. You know them better than I do.”

Henry kept his gaze fastened on him as he spoke. “I do. I trust them.”

Hadrian’s eyes slid to Henry’s scar. “I know how important friends are. I never thought I’ll need one until I met Cassius, Adrian and Marcus. I won’t fight you on this.”

“Was Hermione’s tirade the right inducement to make you understand that we’re not kids anymore?” Henry lifted a brow. 

“I will always consider you my baby brother. I was there the day you were born, remember?" he countered calmly and grinned when Henry grimaced.

“Fine, what are we going to do now? And what about Ginny? She’s not faring well, I can see that.”

Hadrian inhaled slowly. “Miss Weasley needs professional help. I’ll make sure that her parents are informed. I sent a letter to Mother earlier. As for the diary, I know someone who can help with deciphering its real nature, I don’t recognize the obscure magic; it’s old and way too complicated. However, Make sure not to mention the diary, even to your friends and we’ll see how we can make Miss Weasley keep the secret.”

‘’You’ve been making plans since Greengrass brought it,” Henry grinned.

“You know I was, brat. We can’t jump into the unknown blindly. Nevertheless, I’m impressed by your friend, Miss Granger.”

“She’s way too clever for her own good. I wish she would have some fun from time to time, though. She lives, literally, in the library,” Henry explained gruffly.

“Well, you are her friend. It’s your job to help her understand that there’s more to life than books. Magic for instance can’t be solely learnt from Hogwarts’ manuals. It’s a living and breathing entity.”

“Easier said than done,” Henry scoffed. “I can’t keep them waiting much longer, I have to go.”

“I’ll tell you when we’ll hunt the Basilisk. It goes without saying that you’re our key to getting inside the Chamber of Secrets.”

A defiant gleam entered Henry’s hazel eyes. “You need me, don’t you? Admit it. After all, I’m the Boy Who Lived. You can’t deny that I am special.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes. “Brat.”

“Certainly, I wasn’t expecting all this...company,” Adrian Pucey drawled lazily, his eyes volleying between him and his friends.

“Certainly Hadrian told you that you can’t get inside the Chamber Of Secrets without me. Like my brother, I like keeping my friends close.”

Marcus Flint scoffed.? “The little lion got you.”

“Are you certain you were not meant to be a Slytherin?” the blond narrowed his eyes.

“As tempting as it is, no. Thank you very much. You can’t handle two Potters at once,” Henry retorted.

“We appreciate the welcome,” Ron muttered under his breath.

Henry shrugged.”Let’s wait for Hadrian and Cassius.”

“But why is he not here yet?” Hermione sounded worried.

“Patience is a virtue. You will know, eventually,” Adrian winked.

Hermione nodded with a puzzled frown.

A moment later, Hadrian, Cassius and…Daphne Greengrass joined them.

Henry looked at his brother questioningly.

Even though the older Greengrass was his year, they never interacted. 

“Daphne’s help with this case was priceless. She wants to be a part of this and I can’t refuse her that,” Hadrian explained.

Daphne…

Being raised by Arcturus according to the Olde Ways, Harry never used first names, ever unless family members and close friends were concerned.

First names meant trust and familiarity which he didn’t grant to strangers. Not easily.

The familiarity between him and Heiress Greengrass unsettled him.

What—

“Before we proceed, please keep your calm. You have to understand that we had to do this,” Cassius Warrington was oddly pleased. “Someone decided to stalk us as soon as we left the dungeons and we reckoned we can use his expertise.”

Oblivious to their wide eyes, Harry took off the Invisibility Clock and put it languidly back in his pocket.

“Th—It’s Professor Lockhart!” Hermione screeched.

Lockhart seemed to be in a Full-Bind Curse. He was floating in midair and Henry knew it was Harry’s magic that was keeping him hovering two feet over the ground.

“He’s Magical Britain's most accomplished Monster-Hunter, it goes without saying that his help would be invaluable,” Cassius said neutrally but the quiet words rang with condescension.

Bewildered, Ron and Neville looked at him.

As soon as what was going on sunk in, the three friends burst out laughing.

Harry cleared his throat, taking slow steps toward the sink with the snake-engraved tap.

His face changed somehow, no longer quite so handsome, but suddenly hard and cold.

To behold him now, one would believe that he was capable of anything. When he spoke, the aristocratic veneer was stripped away revealing something raw and feral. ‘’Before we proceed, I’ll need an Unbreakable vow from each one of you.” He paused deliberately before adding. “I might trust you implicitly but I can’t take risks when Henry’s safety is compromised. Either you take the vow or you leave this place at once.”

“Hadrian…” Henry pleaded with his eyes.

Harry shook his head. “No. Did you forget what happened thirteen years ago? Do you remember Peter Pettigrew? I’ll never commit that mistake. Your safety always comes first.”

“Henry?” Hermione turned white.

“We’ll do it,” Neville straightened his back. “You know that I’ll never betray my Godbrother but I’ll take any vow to appease your worries.”

Ron’s lips pinched in a stern line. “Mom would have my head if she knows I took an Unbreakable Vow. She had almost scorched Fred and George years ago when they…" He cleared his throat. "Anyways, I’ll do it. For Henry.”

“You know that I will take whatever vow you ask for. I understand why you’re doing this and I would do the same if I had a brother,” Cassius said curtly.

“You don’t need to ask, mate,” Adrian rolled his eyes.

Henry’s attention moved to Daphne Greengrass.

She appeared relaxed but watchful. Her icy blue eyes returned Harry’s stare. ‘’I will take the vow. For your brother.”

Although her words were curt and dry, Harry seemed to recognize something that flashed in her eyes.

Henry’s heart thumped in astonishment.

Unlike Harry, he had never inspired this unyielding loyalty, never thought that his friends would trust him to this unforeseen level, would take an Unbreakable Vow for him.

Him; Henry Fleamont Potter and not the Boy Who Lived.

He exchanged a swift look with the members of the Golden Quadro.

No wonder Gryffindors were known for their ruthless efficiency and courage and had achieved a celebrated status.

At that moment, he was more thankful than ever for ignoring the Hat’s suggestion and following his heart.

He was a Gryffindor and so were his friends.

Chapter Text

The heavy silence that followed the moment everyone took to swear the Unbreakable Vow was interrupted when Hadrian gave him an encouraging nod. His stance was casual but his emerald eyes were hard and determined.

Henry recognized that look.

They were going to end it here and now. Together.

Henry took a deep breath and headed toward the tap Hermione found a couple of days ago.

His friend’s eyes narrowed when understanding washed over her. “You are a Parselmouth. Like Voldemort and Salazar Slytherin, you are one.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.

“Yes I am,” Henry answered matter-of-factly. “I don’t know how or why I’m one but I don’t mind. In fact, this gift did just come in handy.”

“You—You can speak to snakes?” Ron blurted. “Wait! That night; the night you had a detention with Lockhart, you heard something when we were going back to the dorms.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you earlier, but—“

“I understand,” Ron’s eyes softened. “You feared that we wouldn’t accept you. Good Godric, don’t tell me you thought we would accuse you of unleashing the Creature.” The redhead took a stumbling step back.

“Of course, not,” Henry shook his head fervently, pushing thick hair off his forehead. “It’s just—I had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I have something in common with Voldemort. I was startled, afraid and…lost. If not for my talk with Hadrian, I don’t know how I would’ve dealt with this.“

“I asked him not to divulge his secret yet,” Harry provided unapologetically, “And with a good reason. I’m not insinuating that you would’ve betrayed his trust but I don’t trust easily.”

“We understand that,” Neville’s voice shook. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Now, let’s get inside the Chamber and face whatever had been haunting the school for months.”

“Well said, Longbottom,” Cassius dipped his head slightly. “Henry Potter displayed an uncommon ability and he needs our support to unveil its secrets and learn how to master it. Parselmouths are scarcer than Thunderbirds’ heartstrings.”

Adrian lounged insolently on the doorway, a hand braced on either side of the frame. “You can have this heart-to-heart talk later. We’re not here to make confessions. The Runes I drew on the corridor are barely keeping Moaning Myrtle frozen and unable to barge in.”

“You know such complicated Rune Chains?” Hermione’s mouth dropped open.

Smugness oozed from Adrian’s voice when he bowed. “Of course, I do, Miss Granger. House Pucey had been providing Magical Britain with exceptional Rune Masters for centuries. I wouldn’t shame my ancestors’ name.”

“Could you—“ Hermione’s expression turned excited.

“Later! We haven’t even started Ancient Runes yet,” Ron groaned. ‘’Let’s save the school first.”

“You know where to find me if you need any help, Miss Granger,” Adrian’s smile widened when Ron’s face turned bright red.

“Henry, look at the snake and concentrate. Ask it to open the Chamber,” Harry put an encouraging over his right shoulder and he felt the bond tugging at his core.

His fingers sought the pendant Harry gifted him years ago and he nodded.

He pushed all other thoughts from his mind refusing to relate Parseltongue to Voldemort. It was his gift; his, and he was to going to use it to help others like every true Potter would.

Magic was Might like Harry reminded him over and over again.

He gazed into the snakelet’s engraved eyes and said in a loud voice. ~Open.~

As he waited, his blood pounded, his skin flared hot, and his heart hammered in his ears.

Disbelievingly, he watched as the sink moved unveiling a dark hole large enough for them to slide in.

“Blimey, the Chamber of Secrets was here all along. It’s not a myth,” Ron spluttered.

“Salazar Slytherin wouldn’t have it any other way, hence the name: the Chamber of Secrets,” Daphne Greengrass considered the opening with calculating eyes.

“Well, who’s going to jump first?” Marcus smirked.

“Why Flint, we have our oblation,” Adrian snorted motioning toward Lockhart.

“Is that even legal?” Hermione bit her lower lip.

Harry’s eyes glinted as he twirled his wand lazily. “Are you questioning our honour, Miss Granger? It might look ruthless, but believe me this man deserves worse than a little trip to Salazar’s Chamber. You will understand in a moment.”

“It’s the perfect opportunity to take advantage of his vast knowledge,” Cassius said breezily. “He might provide all the help we need.”

“Let’s find out.” As soon as the words left Harry’s lips, Lockhart opened his eyes.

“What—“ He slurred. “What happened to me? What am I doing here?”

“You wanted to follow me and found out what I’m plotting. As I was in a sharing mood, I decided to let you partake in this venture, Professor,” Harry answered politely.

“What?” Lockhart’s eyes widened when he understood what was about to take place. He became as till as death, his ragging breathing much too shallow. “Mr Potter-Black, I have to warn you—“

“Jump,” Harry ordered.

Henry understood that his patience was at an end. His annoyance was evident in his voice. “You’ve been stalking my brother since the year started, ignoring Father and Sirius’ warning. Do you think I was blind to your transgressions? You are nothing but a liar and a coward. Jump.”

When Lockhart stalled, Harry’s response was to lift an eyebrow.

Henry groaned and with a swiftness coming from his Quidditch training, he pushed the irksome professor through the hole.

He winced when he shrieked like a Harpy.

“Wow, can I do that too?” Adrian pouted.

Marcus gave him a scathing look. “This is not the right time to jest, go ahead.”

“He’s fine, I can sense his Aura,” Cassius exchanged a look with Harry.

“Pity,” Adrian rolled his eyes then jumped.

“Alright, I’ll jump first and make sure that you don’t break something. Daphne, Henry, Neville, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, you jump after Cassius and Marcus,” Harry looked at him pointedly.

Henry understood that it was pointless to express his disagreement.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way,” he sighed.

“Of course, you will, brat,” Harry winked before he joined Lockhart and Adrian.

Hadrian whispered a Cushioning Charm as soon as the pipe levelled up.

Not a second later, he landed on his feet smoothly. It was already lit thanks to the blue flames Adrian conjured.

Adrian smiled. “Hello, mate.”

Hadrian’s eyes drifted over Adrian’s shoulder and narrowed.

Lockhart was trying to grab a rock and no wonder, strike Adrian’s back and steal his wand.

“I thought you would learn something from this lesson, Professor,” he said flatly. “Lower your hand.”

“You’ll pay for this, Potter-Black,” he shouted then jumped.

Hadrian wasn’t certain what the halfwit was trying to achieve. He had been planning how to ruin him for months and couldn’t resist the chance when it presented itself.

He lifted his wand bristly and murmured.  “Altum Somnum.” It was a Dark spell created by Altair Black and none but the caster could awaken the victim.

A Black would never take risks. Their legendary self-preservation wouldn't allow that.

Lockhart’s body slumped down like a boulder.

“Sweet Salazar,” Adrian gasped.

“Merlin’s Blood,” Marcus growled as soon as he landed. “I missed all the fun.”

“You missed nothing worthy of your time. We’ll deal with him later,” Hadrian waved him off and started muttering Cushioning Charms to make sure that the younger students made it safely.

“Adrian, Marcus, you’ll remain here. You will intervene if we don’t make it in thirty minutes. But, don’t you dare alert the professors. We'll talk to Dumbledore as soon as our job is done.”

“This is unfair,” Adrian glared at Lockhart's still body.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there to assist the King,” Cassius called out as he landed smoothly with no sign of his wand.

 Among the Court members—and probably all of Hogwarts’ students—he was the most proficient at Wandless Magic.

It came easily to all the Warringtons, the only remaining descendants of Myrddin Wyllt, commonly known as Merlin.

Daphne Greengrass came first, followed by Hermione, Henry, Ron and then Neville.

“This place stinks,” Henry scrunched his nose.

“A Basilisk lives here, remember?” Ron made a puny attempt to free his and Neville’s entangled legs.

Hadrian studied the place. It reeked, indeed.

Small animals’ skulls and bones were scattered everywhere. His eyes settled on a giant snake skin and he pressed his lips together.

“The Basilisk had been using the plumbing,” Cassius remarked.

“I’ve been hearing its voice inside the walls,” Henry clarified.

“That’s quite crafty,” Daphne intervened. “Who would guess that the pipes were designed to let the Basilisk roam the school freely?”

“But why now? Why did it start petrifying students now?” Hermione eyed the walls thoughtfully.

“It doesn’t matter at the moment. We’ll find out, eventually,” Hadrian said.

With his casual grace, he made his way toward the entwined serpents guarding the entrance.

“First of all, you stay behind me and Cassius at all times. You don’t move, you don’t breathe until we say so. As soon as Henry summons the Basilisk, you close your eyes.”

“How do you plan to deal with the Basilisk after I summon it?” Henry asked.

“Basilisks are known to flee from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to them. We managed to acquire one before coming here,” Cassius answered, amusement underlying his words.

“That’s it?” Ron sounded taken aback.

“What were you expecting, Mr Weasley? A sword fight perhaps?” Daphne ran her hand over the engraved snakes. “You can't win against a Basilisk in fair combat; it’s stronger and more resilient than any wizard. It’s resistant to most spells, too. Its skin is as hard as Dragon Hide. You don’t want to look into its eyes or Merlin Forbid, get bitten. Its venom would make you expire on the spot.”

“Greengrass is right,” Hermione said benignly. “Sometimes the simplest option is the right one.”

“I like the sound of this,” Henry’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “I’m not sure I’m ready to engage in a fight with a Basilisk. Yet.”

Hadrian raked over the entrance with contempt. “Henry, ask the snakes to let us pass.”

Henry hissed the command and the snakes parted then the wall cracked open.

Cassius stalked back to his side as they made their way inside.

The children followed behind as they were instructed.

Their steps echoed loudly and He wondered what secrets the Chamber hid.

He planned to visit it later after the Basilisk was taken care of. Hadrian had no doubt that Salazar Slytherin kept the things that mattered most to him inside his safe haven.

Of course, Henry and his mother would benefit most from this discovery. Henry would learn more about his gift and Lily would obtain some extremely rare ingredients for her potions.

As they drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue as high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall.

“A very Dark Aura is coming from behind the statue. The Basilisk’s nest is in this wall.” The hard edge in best friend’s voice told Hadrian that despite Cassius’ calm façade, he could not wait for this trial to be over.

“Shall I call it now?’’ Henry’s voice drifted through the hollow space.

“Wait,” Hadrian said stiffly. “Do you remember what I asked you to do?”

“We do, don’t worry. We’re not eager to visit the Hospital Wing anytime soon,” Daphne’s eyes softened.

It amazed him how much control she had over her facial expression. He didn’t remember seeing her smile or display emotions in public since she joined his House a year ago.

Hadrian wondered what made her so stern and uncompromising.

“We’ll create a shield. Around this pillar,” he pointed out to the largest pillar in the room. “You’ll remain behind it until the Basilisk dies.”

He closed his eyes and called for the Black Magic that ran through his veins.

His heart pounded harder in his chest when the Black Magic took hold of his senses and simmered under his skin looking for an outlet.

He hadn’t been idle during the past summer. He divided his time between taking care of Arcturus and studying some rather questionable books from the Black Library.

His breath grew heavy when his wand started vibrating with barely repressed power.

Creating stronger shields demanded a great deal of raw power; something he had in abundance thanks to his large core and dual Heirship.

He heard a gasp behind coming from Daphne Greengrass but kept his eyes closed.

“Protego Diabolica,” he muttered under his breath.

A ring of Black Fire surrounded them. It would incarcerate any enemy of the caster, Magical Creatures included.

Grindelwald was known to be quite fond of the Charm, however, Hadrian didn’t mind.

He would use whatever was at his disposal to protect those he cared about.

He motioned to Henry to summon the Creature.

Henry looked at him questioningly. “What do I say? It has to be something special to make it think I am the Heir of Salazar Slytherin.”

“Your brother is right.’’ Daphne stood rigid and straight facing the nest’s entrance.

“How about: come to me Salazar’s Familiar. The Basilisk was his Familiar, it explains why it couldn’t leave the school even after his demise. It’s bound by his magic,” Cassius provided helpfully.

“I think it might work,” Hadrian’s reply was spoken with haunting certainty. “It sounds like something the real Heir would say.”

“What about the rooster?” Henry’s eyes volleyed between him and Cassius.

“Oh, that,” Cassius drawled. He pulled out a small box from his pocket and then enlarged it. “I won’t release the rooster until the Creature is out. We don’t want to alert it, do we now?”

“Of course, no,” Neville’s voice was barely a whisper. “Mother would have my head if she knows what I’ve been doing this year.”

“But your grandmother would applaud your courage,” Hadrian smiled at the pudgy boy.

A new determination ignited a glint in Henry’s eyes when Hadrian mouthed. “Do it.”

As soon as the command left his lips, Slytherin’s stone face moved. The mouth opened, to make a huge black hole. The Basilisk started stirring inside the statue’s mouth, slithering up from its depths.

“Not yet,” he looked at Cassius.

The latter nodded and started lifting the upper lid. “I sense it, it’s almost out. Now. Close your eyes,” Cassius said carefully.

Henry clutched his arm. Stealthily, he took his hand between his and let his magic wash over him and chase his fears way.

They heard the flutter of the rooster’s wings before it started crowing loudly.

Hadrian winced and fought the need to cover his ears as soon as the Basilisk started screeching.

“Hadrian!” Henry moaned.

The sound caused their ears to bleed. It was harrowingly painful.

They heard as the Basilisk thrashed and butted its head and tail against the pillars.

Its body whipped across the damp floor again and again until, finally, it thudded onto the floor.

The rooster stopped crowing and they knew the Basilisk was no more.

“Wait,” Hadrian ordered. He gave free rein to his magic to fill the room and sensed the Dark Creature’s magic fading slowly.

“It’s done.”

As soon as he let the shield down, Henry took slow steps forward, his eyes going from the Basilisk's dim eyes to its trunk-like body.

“Wow,” he breathed. “What are going to do with the carcass?”

Hadrian moved his hand carelessly, casting a 'Muffiliato' and made no effort to hid the amusement in his voice. “Of course, we’ll send it to Mother. She can use parts from it for her experiments. We’ll use its skin to fashion armour. As for its fangs,” he smirked. “Grandfather Arcturus wants them.”

Henry’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “You had everything sorted out before we came here.”

Hadrian cocked his head to the side. “I hate surprises. Planning makes it easier and way safer.”

Henry opened his mouth to offer a witty comeback but was startled when Fawkes flashed inside the room.

Well, it seemed there was no way out from visiting the Headmaster’s office.

Thankfully, he sent Hedwig with a letter home before dinner.

Chapter Text

As soon as Fawkes flashed them back to the bathroom, Daphne addressed Hadrian. “I need to see my sister.”

“Of course, you should check on Astoria. We’ll take things from here,” he replied at once. “Thank you for your help.”

She stood there spellbound for a second, barely able to believe that Hadrian Potter Black was thanking her.

It wasn’t as if she solved the case or planned everything ahead. She just used her strength and stalked Ginerva Weasley.

A chill went down her spine and she swallowed inaudibly. With a mental shake, she curtsied, spun on her heels and stalked off.

She redirected her thoughts away from how much Hadrian unsettled her and headed toward the Hospital Wing.

She found it difficult to speak with her usual, spectacular fluency when she behold the sight of Astoria grinning while Colin Creevey seemed utterly distraught.

“But I was storing some rather good pictures here, Henry wouldn’t let me take any photos of him and his friends. I had to work sneakily to steal those,” he pouted, his fingers caressing the burned camera with something akin to reverence. “Do you think we can find a spell to fix it?”

Astoria snorted. “You should be thankful we survived the Basilisk, Colin. Your camera, in a way, saved our lives. Imagine if you weren’t too eager to take the monster's picture and I wasn’t the good friend who tries to stop her mate from committing yet another folly.”

“But—Imagine if we managed to keep the Basilisk’s picture,” Creevey moaned.

“Nonsense. Does a picture count more than our lives? You can always find a Basilisk picture in Fantastic Beasts. Mr Newt Scamander did a great job in your stead.”

“You’re right,” Creevey nodded sullenly and put his camera down. “It’s just—I saved for months so I could purchase this camera. ‘’

“I can ask—“ Astoria’s features softened.

“No,” Colin took her hand between his. “I’ve been alone in Hogwarts until you and Luna saved me. It’s more than I could ever ask for.”

Astoria reached out and took her friend in a tight hug. “You are my best friends. We saved each other.”

Happiness overcame worry as Daphne listened to the exchange.

She was immensely glad for her sister. She knew how lonely she was all these years, battling her curse in silence and barely able to leave the safety of the Greengrass Manor.

She cleared her throat and took a step inside.

Colin Creevey’s head swivelled between her and Astoria. “Miss Greengrass. I—I should take my leave.”

He took the remains of his camera and hurried away.

As soon as he was out, Daphne warded the room.

“Astoria,” her voice came hoarse.

“Come here,” Astoria sighed wearily and opened her arms.

A brief silence sifted into the room then Daphne threw herself at her sister. She hugged her fiercely; hugged her with her all. She wanted to reassure herself that her dear sister was fine, was still breathing and kicking and as mischievous as ever.

“I missed you too, Daph. Tell me you didn’t kill someone in my absence,” Astoria smiled against her neck.

Daphne took her face between her hands and studied her features. “We just killed the Creature that dared take you away from me.”

Astoria’s mouth twitched with amusement. “We?”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Of course, brat. I have to stalk a little lioness for days and steal from her so we can find the answer.”

“But the Basilisk lives—“ Astoria remarked.

“We know. I was in the Chamber of Secrets before I came here. Hadrian and his friends took care of it. I had to watch to make sure that this nightmare is over.”

“Hadrian?” Astoria’s eyes widened before she lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were this close.”

Daphne decided to nudge the conversation in a different direction. “Does something hurt? Are you really fine?”

“I’m alright. I don’t remember a thing after we caught the Basislisk’s reflection on Colin’s camera.”

A soft rap on the door interrupted the two sisters’ conversation. Daphne waved her wand and the door opened.

Luna Lovegood came inside, a gentle smile adorning her lips. “The Nargles told me you are awake. Welcome back, Astoria.”

Daphne stood. “I’ll bring Tracy, she misses you.”

Luna Lovegood surprised her when her luminous eyes settled on her. “I’ll keep vigil beside Astoria and Colin tonight, you can rest. I know how stressed you’ve been for days. I asked the House Elves to bring Astoria’s favourite Chocolate Cake.”

“Luna is right,” Astoria patted the spot Daphne evacuated, inviting her friend to snuggle closer. “Please, send a letter to Mother and Father. I can imagine how worried they’ve been.”

Daphne recognized how senseless it would be to argue. She nodded, kissed Astoria’s forehead and left.

Her sister was safe.

Hadrian wasn’t surprised when he found his father, mother and Sirius in Dumbledore’s office waiting for them.

Professors Snape and McGonagall were there, as well. The look in their eyes told him how eager they were to understand what was going on.

Sirius turned his attention to him. He looked pointedly at Henry and then nodded. With a nod of his own, Hadrian reassured his Godfather that the Diary was safe and none of Henry’s friends knew about it.

Although, truth to be told, he was surprised by the trio’s obvious loyalty to Henry and could not explain it.

It was heartwarming to know that Henry was forging bonds as steady as the ones he shared with his friends.

Marcus, Adrian and the three Gryffindors volunteered to take care of a minor problem, while Cassius insisted to keep him company.

He winced when he took in his mother’s expression. Lily seemed troubled. Her face was pale and her eyes were unfocused.

“Hadrian, Henry…” she whispered.

Henry’s reaction was instinctive. He threw himself at her. Lily reached out to touch his forehead, her shaking fingers lingering on his scar.

Henry pulled her toward him and kissed her cheek. “We’re fine Mum. I was safe at all times. Hadrian was there and so were our friends.”

She smiled down at him before she lifted her eyes to her older son.

Hadrian’s features softened when she mouthed. “Thank you.”

His nod conveyed what he didn’t outsiders to hear. “Always.”

He was intent to bide his time because revenge would be his.

His resolve was what kept him upright, what kept him going; his steps sure and his eyes on the prize.

It kept him sane, in this insane time, this insane situation: Revenge and his duty to his little brother, to his family.

Only when his brother's life was secure and only when Voldemort paid with his life for his previous sins could he allow himself a reprieve.

Only then would he be free.

A tight ball of emotion settled in the pit of his stomach when he looked at his father. It pained him how much he looked like Fleamont Potter.

Hadrian and James continued to stare at each other for an eternity of seconds. An understanding passed between them, without the need for words to carry their feelings.

I trust you, my son.

“Mr Potter-Black, Mr Potter and Mr Warrington. Can you tell us what happened tonight?” Dumbledore asked in his gentle voice.

“Headmaster,” Hadrian started. “I believe you were aware of the monster that was unleashed in Hogwarts since the year started.”

The twinkle disappeared from the old man’s eyes. “I am. We’ve been trying to catch it for months.” He ran a wrinkled hand over his beard. “But I sensed a huge disturbance coming from the school’s underground. Moreover, Professor Lockhart disappeared all of a sudden. We can’t find him anywhere.”

Henry huffed then blushed when all eyes went to him. ‘’He’s a disgrace,” he whispered under his breath.

“Professor,” Cassius dipped his head slightly. “We did not intend to chase the monster or fight it. It just happened.”

“It just happened?” Snape drawled. “Could you perhaps elaborate Mr Warrington?”

Cassius glanced at the professor with an expression that clearly stated. “Are you certain?”

“It was Professor Lockhart’s fault,” Hadrian stated unapologetically. “He wanted to use us as bait to entice the monster. Thankfully, we managed to escape unscathed.”

“How wonderful,” Snape muttered.

Hadrian ignored him. “Somehow, he found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. It’s in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. He forced us to go down the tunnels with him. Sadly, the professor suffered a concussion and we had to fight for our lives to escape the Basilisk’s clutches; well, his gaze if I want to be more precise.” He stated matter-of-factly, daring anyone to contradict him.

“A Basilisk!” Professor McGonagall gasped.

“I’m afraid, yes, Professor,” Cassius lowered his gaze.

Hadrian knew better than to look at Sirius. He knew that his prankster Godfather was enjoying the show. He could feel it in their bond.

“Mr Potter-Black,” Dumbledore looked at him with exasperation. “Are you saying that you had no idea about what was going to take place before Professor Lockhart forced you to go with him?”

“Of course, Professor. Why would I seek a Basilisk? I’m not a fool,” Hadrian answered, challenging the Headmaster with an unwavering stare.

He didn’t dislike Dumbledore, not particularly, but he didn’t trust him either. It wasn’t easy for him to trust strangers.

“Can you explain how you managed to subdue the monster?” Dumbledore tilted his head.

“I conjured a rooster. I read in Fantastic Beasts that the only way to kill them is with a rooster’s crow. Luckily, Grandfather Arcturus made sure I took my lessons seriously,” he answered in a hard, determined voice.

“Impressive,” McGonagall smiled.

“Very impressive, indeed. Strangely, it seems as if you were ready,” Snape interjected.

“Better be ready that suffer the consequences. Wouldn’t you say that, Snape?” Sirius’ grin was all teeth.

“You wouldn’t know that if—“ Snape hissed.

“Enough,” Dumbledore chided softly. “We should be grateful that no one was hurt. I do recommend your quick wits Mr Potter-Black. Henry, you and your friends showed us why you are Gryffinodrs tonight. I applaud your courage.”

“Thank you, Professor,” a faint wash of red crept over Henry’s cheeks.

“I know that there’s more to this, but I won’t pressure you to tell me more. I trust that you’ll do it on your own time.” Sea-blue eyes clashed with emerald green.

Dumbledore’s reasoning reeked of annoying confidence, yet he was powerless and he knew it.

For the first time, the previous Saviour of the Wizarding World was helpless because what happened in the Chamber of Secrets would remain there until Hadrian said differently.

While the Headmaster’s reasoning was clouded by his quest for the Greater Good, Hadrian was part Black.

Discipline and logic, as cold and sharp as the poisoned blades of previous Black Lords sank in their enemies’ hearts for power's sake, ruled his every action. And it would remain so, he pledged, until he got his revenge.

“What about the Basilisk?” Snape asked tersely.

“What about it?” Sirius’ mimicked.

Hadrian and Henry exchanged a look. They noticed Sirius' lightened mood and knew he sought to take advantage of the moment.

“It’s Hogwarts’ property. I will harvest parts of it for potions and we can—“

“I’m afraid, that won’t happen, Professor,” Hadrian said in a calm voice and walked to stand by his mother’s side. 

“I beg your pardon?” Dumbledore sounded startled.

“The Basilisk is a Potter-Black Property. I was the one who killed the Basilisk. He’s mine and I chose to give it to my Mother. By right of contest, you have no right to it.”

“Moreover, the Chamber of Secrets doesn’t strictly speaking belong to the school grounds. It used to belong to Salazar Slytherin. Seeing that he has no Heir who can claim his Familiar, by our laws, it belongs to Hadrian and his family,” Cassius explained in his cold tone.

“Mr Warrington,” Snape gritted his teeth.

“Thank you, Cassius,” Lily sent his friend a grateful smile.

Her eyes went to her ex-friend for a fleeting moment and Hadrian saw the pain there.

Hadrian wanted to gather her in his arms, to hold her and offer comfort, but he sensed that his proud mother would not accept his compassion from the way she held herself erect.

Memory was taking her to the past and all he could do was wait for her to let it go.

James said nothing for a moment. He took his wife’s hand in his and lifted it to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

His eyes became two pools of ice when he addressed Snape. “I’d be careful if I was you. As we speak, Ezio and Belen are transporting the Basilisk's carcass to Lily’s lab. You have no right to ask for parts of it. It belongs to my wife.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore sighed. “I hope it will help with your future projects, Lily.”

“Thank you, Dumbledore,” Lily smiled faintly. “I’ll make sure to use its rare ingredients to help those in need.”

“Mr Potter-Black, now that everything is settled, where is Professor Lockhart?” McGonagall wondered.

“Our friends, kindly, volunteered to take him to the Hospital Wing,” Henry grinned. 

“Is he—Is he?” McGonagall’s brows furrowed as she studied her colleague

“Of course, he’s not fine,” Madam Pomfrey scoffed. “He wouldn’t wake up.”

Henry bit his lower lip in an effort to hide his grin and made sure not to look at his brother.

“If I may, Madam Pomfrey,” Graham Montague offered. “Maybe we should try this.” 

Harry told him that the tall Slytherin was an aspiring Healer. Like his mother; Lady Caitlin Rosier Montague, he intended to become one.

Madam Pomfrey took him under her wing since his second year and started teaching him all there was to know about the noble art of Healing.

“Oh, how remiss of me. Thank you, Mr Montague,” she took the offered potion and made sure that the Professor took a sip.

A quick exchange went between Harry and Graham and Henry understood that whatever Graham put there wouldn’t help Lockhart, not at all.

The professor's eyes snapped open and he seemed lost for a moment.

“Professor Lockhart, can you rely on the events that took place before your unfortunate accident?” Dumbledore asked.

Lockhart seemed to fight to keep his lips shut, however, whatever secret ingredient Graham added to the potion won.

“I’m a fraud. I’ve never been to Luna Silva Forest, never fought against Werewolves or subdued Vampires. I barely passed my exams. All my books are a compilation of lies and papers I managed to steal from travelers, Aurors and Magizoologists. The only spell I excel at is Obliviate. I am a liar. Please, I don’t want to—”

“Pertificus Totalus,” James shouted.

“What!” McGonagall sounded incensed.

“Unbelievable,” Madam Pomfrey took a step back.

“I had my warranted suspicions”, Snape’s smile was smug.

A scowl appeared on Dumbledore’s brow. “How...strange,”

“I think I mistook the new version of the Truth Serum I was working on with Madam Pomfrey with the Draught of Life. Please, pardon me,” Graham didn’t look sorry at all.

“We should thank you instead, Son,” James glared at the wide-eyed fraud. ‘‘I’ll take him to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at once. We’ll start an investigation. It isn't as if we didn't suspect this."

Dumbledore’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “There’s nothing I can do for him. He’s way beyond help.”

Henry looked at Hadrian. The latter winked and mouthed. “I erased all his memories of the Chamber of Secrets, don’t worry.”

He shrugged and rolled his eyes.

He wasn’t worried, not at all, as long as his brother was by his side.

“So, you made sure that the girl is been taken good care of,” Arcturus Black asked slyly.

Hadrian gave his grandfather a mocking glance. “Of course, I did. Mother contacted Mrs Weasley and relied upon the events of Miss Weasley’s first year. She was thankful that we did not inform the Headmaster or worse yet, the Ministry. They swore a vow to keep our secret as long as we keep theirs. Graham’s mother, Lady Caitlin Montague volunteered to take care of her. She’s a Mind Healer.”

“Very good. The less Dumbledore knows the better,” Arcturus chuckled. “The little girl had been irresponsible. You should never shy away from seeking help. Family is everything.”

“Yes, it is,” Hadrian nodded, his eyes studying the books scattered over his grandfather’s office. “So? Did you find something?”

Arcturus bit back a groan. “Not much. I’m unfamiliar with this magic.”

When Hadrian stood up and started running his fingers through his hair, the older man smirked. “But, I know someone who can help.”

“Really?” he asked carefully. “Grandfather, you know that secrecy is paramount.”

Arcturus glared at him. “Are you doubting me, child?” A lesser wizard would have been intimidated by Arcturus’ Black authoritative demand.

Hadrian grinned and shook his head. He took the seat facing his Grandfather and waited patiently for him to elaborate.

The tense silence was broken when Arcturus leaned in his seat and lifted an arrogant eyebrow. “I sent an urgent letter to my cousin. She studies Obscure Magic. I’m certain that she will give us the answer we seek.”

Hadrian nodded, albeit reluctantly. “By cousin, are you perchance referring to Great-aunt Cassiopeia?”

When Arcturus grinned, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The knowledge caused Hadrian a twinge of sharp curiosity for he heard a lot about the wandering Cassiopeia Black, but he mentally shrugged, knowing there was only so much he could ask.

Arcturus loved his games and he couldn’t deny the old wizard some fun.

Chapter Text

Arcturus Sirius Black gazed at the old Family Tapestry with longing and sighed. 

He wanted to look at where his memories began before they disappeared.

He wanted to stare those memories—and the memories of the family that meant everything to him—in the face and deny how much it still hurt every single day. He forbade his magic to bleed anymore but it wouldn’t listen.

However, he was here. Now. With the power to secure House Black’s future and make sure that the name he carried with so much pride would not disappear.

He was thankful that he didn’t give up and left Hadrian.

For years, he believed that after he lost his Melania, he wouldn’t be able to give any more of himself.

Everyone he had loved was either dead or lost to him.

Arcturus snorted.

What in Merlin’s Name was he doing, mopping pitifully like a bloody Malfoy? 

Yet he was partially blameless. His thoughts were already tossed like leaves in a whirlwind since Hadrian brought the twice-cursed diary.

A disturbance in Grimmauld Place’s wards halted his thoughts.

Arcturus yanked his gaze away from the Family tree and set off down the hall knowing beforehand the identity of the intruder.

He might pretend most of the time that he felt nothing, no compassion or other silly emotions Hufflepuffs liked to display. Not that he should. All he had known since he was groomed to take the mantle of the next Lord Black was how to protect and keep the family together.

And he had failed.

But Cassiopeia Black; his favourite cousin, was different and in a way, familiar with a presence that soothed his magic.

Dark and uncontrollable.

He reached his office and opened the door. Arcturus wasn’t surprised at the sight that greeted his eyes.

Cassiopeia was sitting in his plush green-coloured velvet high chair as if she owned the place, her sharp eyes going over his notes.

Her dark nails tapped softly over the oak of his desk and a smug smile twisted her blood-red lips.

The moment he stepped in, she stood gracefully and curtsied. “Cousin Arcturus. Should I feel flattered by your urgent message? Did you miss me that much?”

Arcturus shot her a dark glance. “Touché. Should I presume that you have feelings, then?”

Cassiopeia stared at him with patent mockery. “That would be a travesty, Arcturus. Feelings are a nuisance I do my best to avoid. You are special, though. Of course, I had to answer your summons for I know you wouldn’t dare waste my time. I was engrossed in a rather fascinating experiment before your owl interrupted. Those Ancient Egyptians…I love how their devious minds work. You can’t imagine the kind of curses they added to their treasures."

Arcturus ignored her and took a seat. “And I would appreciate it if you don't divulge the details. I don’t want to know.”

She grinned at that. “You are turning soft, Arcturus. I heard you adopted the Potter Heir and do consider him the grandson you never had.”

He cocked a brow up and stared at her with dogged resignation. “What if I did? It wasn’t as if I would ever refuse Mother Magic’s gift. The Black Magic claimed him the day he was born. He’s Sirius’ son so he’s lawfully my grandson.”

Their gazes held for a moment; stormy grey clashing against otherworldly silver. It was nothing new to him. Cassiopeia was a strong-willed, way-too-witty witch. Nothing escaped her notice.

“I want to meet him. He sounds like an interesting young wizard.”

“You will,” he murmured. “But first, let’s get to business. I trust you are aware of what transpired in Potter Manor eleven years ago. The day Wizarding Britain lost Fleamont and little Henry was hailed The Boy Who Lived.”

Cassiopeia huffed. “Stupid mutts. Instead of celebrating a victory that never happened, they should have mourned the loss of a Battle Mage. We know how rare they are.” There was an unwonted fury in her voice he didn’t have the time to dig into.

Arcturus glanced heavenward. “You are right. He was an honourable man. House Black will always remain indebted to him. He gave Sirius asylum and shielded him from his mother’s madness. I regret not being there when my Heir needed me most. Melania’s death broke something in me that never healed.” He cleared his throat. “Not only that but thanks to Fleamont, Sirius got a son. Like you, he has no interest in a partner.”

Cassiopeia nodded. “I know. Though I don’t regret my choices, I’m happy for Sirius. He deserves some happiness after what he went through.”

“Yes, he does,” Arcturus agreed. “For that, we have to make sure that Hadrian remains safe. I know for a fact that we won’t be in peace until Fleamont is avenged and Voldemort is destroyed.”

One of Cassiopeia’s brows lifted. “You speak as if you know something I don’t.”

Arcturus snorted.

He had faced enough intriguing, tight-lipped, talented people in his life. Cassiopeia was the most cunning witch he knew. He was grateful she was an ally. “You know as much as I do that he was not vanquished that day. The Eihwaz scar on Henry’s forehead reeks of Dark magic. Cursed magic.”

“Give the item to me. I want to look into this.” When she spoke, her gaze sparkled with lightning. “I feel its presence nearby.” 

Arcturus was neither surprised nor fooled. Her pleasant voice was underlaid with iron.

Every Black was aware that Cassiopeia dabbled in Obscure Magic. He did not doubt that she caught the foul magic in Grimmauld Place the moment she apparated.

Arcturus didn’t reply. He clasped his hands behind his back and called. “Kreacher!”

The old elf popped in. “Master Arcturus called for Kreacher,” he bowed deeply.

“Kreacher, do fetch the item Hadrian sent. Do not open the silver box.”

Kreacher bowed again and disappeared at once.

A moment later, he reappeared with the silver box held reverently between his wrinkly hands.

Carefully, Cassiopeia ran her long nails over the Protection Runes engraved over the box and tsked. “Merlin’s Mercy…This is so…unexpected.”

An involuntary tremor went down Arcturus’ back when Cassiopeia let her magic out, seeking, prodding and looking for the answer. Ravenous for more knowledge.

Even though he knew the full measure of her eccentricity, he did not possess the required patience or time to wait for her. “So?” he demanded.

“My, my, Arcturus. Impatient, aren’t we?” the infuriating witch laughed and the sound seemed to reverberate inside the room. “This is way more interesting than what I predicted. I will require some time but fear not, you will get your answer.”

Truly, there was no woman ever born as vexing as his cousin. “Make sure you do that. I have no time for your games, Cassiopeia. The future of our family depends on our success.”

“And we will succeed because a Black never fails,” Cassiopeia whispered solemnly, her voice carrying the weight of her determination.

She made her way toward the door with the box between her hands. “I’ll need to check the Black Library, though I know that what I seek won't be there. I might need your elf’s assistance to bring some of my possessions from my flat in Paris. If my intuition is right, I believe I’ll need to check Merwyn the Malicious’ full collection of deadly curses and Herpo the Fool’s original rituals.”

Arcturus blinked and watched as she winked then left.

Perhaps he did the right thing by calling her.

Or maybe, he was about to unleash a beast he was powerless to control.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

They would get to the bottom of this and succeed.

Failure was not an option.

Chapter Text

Henry put down his quill and looked at Hermione. “Are you done yet? I don’t plan to spend all day studying Ancient Runes.”

He picked up his quill again, dipped it into the small jar of ink and waited for his friend.

She blew out a silent sigh and looked at him with exasperation.

She lifted her sharp quill and pointed it at him. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to make a threat. Hopefully, she wasn’t. “How are you so good with Ancient Runes? I thought that Defense Against the Dark Art was your favourite subject.”

Ron groaned. “Not again!”

Henry smirked, wrote, dipped his quill then wrote again. “Every Potter is a natural in Combat Magic. Ancient Runes however needs more investment. I heard that My Grandma Euphemia was a prodigy and decided to honour her by taking Ancient Runes seriously. You never know when you might need them.”

“That’s deep, mate,” Neville’s eyes shone with respect. “I can relate seeing that Mum is…was very fond of Herbology.”

Henry looked at Ron and Hermione through the corner of his eye, his heart suddenly bleeding for his best friend and godbrother.

He inhaled a deep breath and forbade himself from showing any signs of pity. 

Neville didn’t need his pity, he needed his friendship. 

His parents could’ve died hadn’t Dowager Augusta Longbottom and her brother, Unspeakable Algie Longbottom rushed to the cottage as soon as Sirius sent a Patronus.

Maybe Lady Alice Longbottom had lost her memories, but her soul was there. It counted.

“Less talk, more work, please,” his mother pushed the door open.

“Mum,” he mumbled. “We’ve been studying for three hours.”

She smirked and motioned for Ezio to bring the refreshments. “I know. However, if you want to have twelve NEWTs like me and your father, you have to study. Harder.”

Henry, Ron and Neville sighed.

Hermione nodded and pursued her lips. “Mrs Potter is right. We have to take our education more seriously.”

Lily’s face softened. “But don’t forget to have fun from time to time. You’ll cherish these memories later.”

“Am I dreaming? Are you perchance encouraging the children to follow the Marauders’ way? Wow, Lils, I’m so proud of you,” his father whistled the moment he joined them.

Lily gave him a sharp side glance. “I won’t have another Marauder in my home. Dealing with you and Sirius on a regular basis is more than enough.”

“Why are you not mentioning Remus?” James pouted pitifully.

“Because, unlike you, he was responsible,” Lily rolled her eyes.

“Lils!” James gasped.

Henry and his friends burst out laughing.

“Doesn’t your uncle Remus visit?” Hermione whispered.

“He does occasionally,” he sighed. He’s my godfather. Unfortunately, Magical Britain doesn’t offer many jobs for—’’ Henry stopped midsentence, his smile vanishing. “…for people with his special condition. He’s sick.”

It hurt that his godfather had to disappear for months working with Muggles. He was a proud wizard. He did not accept financial help from his best mates.

“I’m sorry,” Ron patted his back.

“Hey, I’m fine,” Henry waved his friends' worries. “He makes sure to visit whenever he can."

Lily and James exchanged a glance. The latter cleared his throat and his jovial expression vanished. “We’re going to have a special guest tonight; someone we haven’t seen in years.”

Henry noticed that his father’s face paled a bit. “Arcturus will bring his cousin later and I expect you to behave impeccably. No breach of manners is allowed.”

Neville swallowed audibly. “Is she a traditionalist, Uncle James?”

It was obvious that his father held this guest in high regard. “I wouldn’t say that. From what little I’ve heard about her, she likes to act in the most unexpected ways. I wouldn’t test my luck, though. She’s important to Sirius and Arcturus, so we have to treat her accordingly.”

Ron did not hide his relief. “I’m going back to the Burrow, tonight. Charlie will be back from Romania. Are you coming?” he looked at Hermione.

“Yes. I’d like to hear some stories about dragons,” she nodded frenetically.

Henry mumbled under his breath. “Traitors.”

He cocked an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing on Neville. “You’re stuck with me. You are not leaving tonight.”

Neville seemed resolved to his fate.

At least, Harry would be there to help him deal with this special guest.

Cassius smiled sympathetically. “Your grandfather is plotting something.”

“And? It’s what he does best,” Hadrian replied wryly.

His best friend snorted. “Isn’t that why you brought the Diary to him? You knew he would solve the riddle.”

“Time is of the essence. Voldemort won’t stop trying to come back and we have to be ready,” Hadrian, promptly, replied. 

He had resolved to be patient, to do his duty to his family and look after his brother whether he needed his help or or not.

Henry wasn’t powerless, far from it. He was growing stronger by the day and he couldn’t wait for him to reach his full potential.

It was obvious Arcturus was suspicious of the Diary and the Obscure Magic he sensed but he remained stubbornly silent and refused to answer his queries.

Hadrian feared what his grandfather was hiding. It was something daunting.

“But to call for Miss Black…” Cassius tsked. “She’d been absent for years, doing Merlin Knows what. Her reputation, though...”

Hadrian did not argue over that. The fearsome Black witch was steeped in the darkest branches of magic, possessing a deep talent that exceeded every daughter House Black had ever birthed.

Hadrian had never met her. She took residence in Paris years ago and seldom visited Magical Britain.

“I wish you luck. It’s good to meet members of your family. One day, you’ll become Lord Black and rule over all these impressive witches,” Cassius said with no small amount of sarcasm. 

“As if,” Hadrian dragged the words out. “Narcissa is tied to that slippery peacock, and Bellatrix is rotting in Azkaban. The Black Madness claimed her even before she attacked the Longbottoms and submitted to Voldemort's will. She’s no good to us. Andromeda rarely visits. She couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive the family that threw her out even though Sirius had annulled her disownment as soon as he took the mantle of Lord Black.”

The words slammed inside him, his magic pumping with rage. “Sirius, Arcturus and….Cassiopeia are the only Black family I have.”

There was a short, thundering silence. 

“I know,” Cassius said. “I understand how you feel. I lost my grandfather and uncle years ago and the wound never healed.”

Hadrian closed his eyes and whispered. “Family is everything.”

“Family is everything and you’re family, mate,’’ Cassius repeated very, very quietly.

--

Hadrian watched tersely as Cassiopeia’s Black gaze moved to the Potter banner hanging above the fireplace.

The colouring was that of deep burgundy, outlining the design of two Griffins holding two Claymores and speaking of generations of Battle Mages, fighters and duelists.

Hadrian could understand why the design would attract new visitors’ attention. You could almost taste the stifling magic filling the room.

Cassiopeia Black’s hair was the colour of ash, arranged in an intricate style that left her face bare for all to see. Like Arcturus and Sirius, she inherited the silver-grey eyes and chiselled cheekbones.

There was something about her that demanded attention and imposed respect. Her magic was dark and alluring. He shuddered when their gazes locked.

Slowly, deliberately, she laid her left hand upon her knee and studied his family members.

“Thank you for having me, Lord Potter.” Her tone was quiet, her mouth curved in a taunting smile.

“Miss Black,” his father nodded. “It’s a pleasure. Curiously, we never had the chance to meet. And you may call me by my given name.”

Her smile widened. “James. First, I want to thank you for taking care of my foolish nephew all these years. House Black is indebted to you. Even though I don’t care much about deranged mothers, foolish teenagers and estranged sons, Sirius is family.”

“Why, thank you, Aunt Cassiopeia. It astonishes me how much you care,” Sirius rolled his eyes.

“You are welcome,” Cassiopeia went on, unabashed. “Lady Potter, contrary to rumours I have nothing against Muggles and Muggleborns. Maybe because I simply don’t care much about…human feelings. I don't cater whims or Merlin Forbid, soothe sensitive nerves.” Her voice was velvet soft and mildly amused. “But, I do recognize talent when I see it. Your magic speaks for you. You did much for House Potter. You don’t need recognition from blinkered fools to know your worth.”

Hadrian was surprised when his mother’s eyes shone with pleasure. “Thank you, Miss Black. Please do call me Lily, you’re Sirius and Hadrian's family.”

When Cassiopeia tilted her head, Lily added. “And for the record, I’ve never considered myself lesser. I’ve learned early to believe in myself.”

“No wonder you stole James’ heart. You have the spirit of a lioness.”

“I wonder why the ceiling hadn’t fallen yet,” Sirius mumbled under his breath. "Aunt Cassiopeia is—‘’

‘’Your aunt is not deaf, young man. She can hear you,” Cassiopeia drawled. “And to answer your question, I do compliment people. Occasionally.”

Though she kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, Hadrian saw her puzzled reaction in the periphery of his vision, caught her frown as she studied Henry the moment he came into the room followed by a reluctant Neville. He discerned the exact moment her thoughtful glance moving to his forehead. Then, his heart sinking, he perceived the slow, interested upturn of her mouth.

She edged nearer and offered her hand. “Mr Henry Potter, I believe?”

Henry stumbled on his feet then kept himself rigid. “Miss Black,” he lifted her hand to his lips. “It’s an honour.”

“Nonsense, young man. I’ve been looking forward to this meeting.”

As if he just walked into a trap, Henry’s eyes beseeched him for help.

Hadrian winked, enjoying his brother’s distress for a moment.

Cassiopeia’s aura was oppressive. Everyone in the room sensed it, even Henry and Neville.

He wondered, though, why her eyes lit the moment Henry joined them.

There was satisfaction and a deep hunger for more in her eyes; as if she found something she’d been looking for.

He appreciated her presence knowing how elusive she was.

He was looking forward to her help yet he couldn’t help but feel wary of her blatant interest in his brother.

Only his preternatural composure allowed him to remain calm.

Arcturus wasn’t faring any better. His brows were furrowed, his lips pinched in displeasure. It seemed his cousin didn’t share much of her thoughts and secrets.

“How long do you plan to remain in Britain?” Sirius blurted.

Lily glared at him.

“I hate making plans,” Cassiopeia said dryly. “I should leave whenever my job is done.”

She dragged a hand over her immaculate robes and blinked. “Though, I sense that this trip is going to be a most fulfilling one.”

“Merlin’s Mercy,” Sirius moaned. “Did you have to send for her?”

“Are you finding fault with my reasoning?” Arcturus answered firmly. “You knew well why I called Cassiopeia. She’s the only one who can help.”

“I know, but—‘’ His godfather lowered his gaze like a dutiful pup.

“Enough with your whining,” James hissed. “Stop acting like a fool, your aunt seems like a decent witch.”

Sirius spluttered. “I pity your ignorance, Prongs. Truly.”

“Young Henry looks so much like Fleamont. He carries the Potter colouring,” Cassiopeia said, her grey eyes gleaming. 

Henry seemed at a loss. “Thank you. Sadly, I didn’t get to spend enough time with Grandpa.”

“He will be avenged, Henry, don’t worry. Only then, his soul will rest in peace.”

Her gaze went to him and he wondered what she read in his face.

He essayed a composed demeanour, waiting for her to find whatever she was looking for.

He ought to have that much control if he wanted to win the respect of a witch as impressive as his great-aunt.

“I sense my family magic in you,” she said ever so quietly. “You are so thoroughly a Potter, but you are the future of House Black. No wonder the family magic claimed you. At last, Sirius did something right.”

“Aunt Cassiopeia!” Sirius gasped.

Without the smallest hesitation, she added. “You are two curious brothers, Hadrian and Henry. I’ve never sensed a bond this strong.”

James inhaled sharply. His voice was rough when he spoke. “They’re my everything.”

“As they should be,” Cassiopeia nodded, pleased with the confession.

“Would you join us for dinner, Miss Black?” Lily cleared her throat and stood slowly.

“I would like to try the Potter elves’ cooking.”

“Actually, Lily helped a lot,” Sirius boasted. “She’s a natural.”

“A Lady who can cook? Even better,” Cassiopeia grin was feral.

“I—‘’

Before his mother could utter a word, a shimmering lynx came running through the wall.

“It’s Kingsley’s Patronus,” James jumped to his feet in alarm.

The lynx opened its mouth and said in Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice. “Peter Pettigrew escaped Azkaban.”

“The…” Sirius could scarcely force one syllable past his throat.

Hadrian didn’t bother. 

He thumbed frantically through his mental dictionary, looking for words, but he couldn’t find what he wanted to describe how he felt.

His gaze went from his father whose face was red with anger to his mother.

Her eyes shone like coals and her hair wafted over her shoulders with repressed energy.

He inhaled deeply when Henry’s palm landed on his shoulder. “Harry, are we...”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth, “We will catch the traitor and we will punish him.”

His magic cracked like thunder escaping his austere control. For once, he didn’t mind. Not even when his mother’s brows furrowed with worry.

Vengeful Black magic bubbled up inside him, dark and hungry for blood. His body straightened to welcome it. As soon as he did, anticipation bolted through him sharp and predatory.

Sanity ebbed through the madness. He strived to control his rage and not add to his parents' burden. 

He might be a valiant, gallant Potter but at that moment, he needed his Black side.

Every cell in his body called for vengeance.

Cassiopeia shifted toward him.

Satisfaction oozed from her voice when she drawled. “I told you, I expect so much from this trip.”

Chapter Text

''By all means, would you stop putting yourself in grave peril? The way Heiress Serena Burke was eyeing you was chilling.”

Suppressing his grin, Cassius smoothed his expression in an admirable imitation of earnest worry. “Do you require accelerated lessons on how to treat a Pureblood Heiress? As your friend, I might help and endure the torment.”

Adrian groaned, and burst out without thinking. “If you intend to mock my predicament, you are doing a bad job of it. You are heartless, but you should know that ladies are impossible to deal with.”

Marcus choked on his Chocolate Frog and wiped the corners of his mouth. “Are you declaring defeat?” he said, his voice still strangled with laughter. “Never thought I’d witness the day.”

“Perhaps we ought to exchange experiences,” Adrian glared at Marcus. “You tell me how many witches you have dated in the previous years and we try to find out who is the most charming wizard.”

Marcus scoffed. “I don’t fancy wasting my time chasing girls. I have my future to consider.”

“You mean your Quidditch future? You are hopeless, mate. I worry for House Flint’s future. Truly,” Adrian wrinkled his nose with disapproval.

“Your conquests leave nothing to be desired. No wonder you gave our friend over here a scare for life,” Cassius corrected straight-faced.

“I wonder why I am sticking to a bunch of cruel human beings like your stellar selves. I hate you at the moment,” Adrian sniffed petulantly and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’ll get over it,” Marcus shrugged and went to devour two other Fudge Flies.

Hadrian eyed the sweets with blatant disgust.

Cassius cleared his throat, giving Marcus a meaningful look. “Fudge is a blithering imbecile. You could not expect better from the incompetent Minister,” he pointed out in an even voice.

Hadrian eyed him blankly. “Bringing Dementors to Hogwarts is so much, even for a dimwit like him.”

“You are quite right,” Adrian said appalled. “I’m not eager for the train to arrive at Hogwarts. I’d rather go back home.”

“Do you think there will be Dementors in the Quidditch pitch?” Marcus frowned.

“For the—‘’ Cassius groaned.

“Leave him be,” Hadrian sighed. “He’s right. It's a sound concern.”

“But don’t you suspect Peter to target your brother? He might try to avenge his previous master.” Adrian’s words hang meaningfully in the air, until the tension became too much to handle.

“As much as it pains me to side with Adrian, his worries are legitimate.” Marcus lost interest in his sweets and pursued his lips.

Hostile rage blazed inside his chest until he could barely think straight. The hatred was so virulent it made his skin burn.

“He might have made a fool of Father and Sirius previously but Peter Pettigrew is a coward. The first thing he’ll do now that he’s free again is try to escape and elude the Ministry’s notice,” he explained with scathing contempt. “That, however, does not mean the traitor is not up to something. Once a traitor, always a traitor. The rat had shown his true colours twelve years ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was to try something that might harm Henry or my family.”

The mere mention of the wizard who caused his grandfather’s death enraged him.

His fists clenched at his sides. Hadrian took a calming breath and fought down his feelings.

“What do you suggest?” Adrian asked slowly, no wonder sensing the turbulence in his magic.

Since they received Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt’s Patronus, barely a minute passed without him being reminded of that night.

It was as if he was suddenly pushed beyond reason. He was already dealing with the Diary and what sinister secrets it hid.

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Cassius whispered. “We’ve dealt with worse. We will deal with Pettigrew and whatever other unsavoury surprises The Fates are weaving for us.”

“I keep dragging you into this,” Hadrian ran a weary hand over his face. 

“And we like every crazy, blood-curdling minute if it,” Adrian said cheerfully. “I cannot imagine Hogwarts without our little adventures. Chaos seems to follow you, Potters, wherever you go.”

“Believe me, mate, I’d rather have a quiet year. Unfortunately, we both know it’s not going to happen.” He shook his head helplessly.

The four friends burst out laughing. It was in times like these that he was thankful for the three hands that extended to him six years ago.

Most of the tension left his body and he stared at his friends with a mixture of relief and exasperation.

“Don’t give me that look, Hadrian Potter-Black. I hate losing the Quidditch Cup but I hate traitors more,” Marcus said gruffly.

“You are hopeless,” Adrian’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I heard your best mate; Oliver Wood spent the whole summer devising new strategies to counter your attacks.”

Marcus’ narrowed eyes became almost dark with intent. “As if I’d let him get the better of me again. Even little Potter’s swift hands won’t save him this year. No offence meant, Hadrian.”

“And none is taken,” he smirked. “Though, I have to wish you good luck with my brother. He trained daily during the holidays.”

“As I’ve already told you, you are a bad influence on our Hermione. On her own, without your evil whispers, she would never have courage or imagination enough to challenge me to a game of chess,” Ron moaned.

“Why? Are you afraid?” Henry taunted.

“Hermione is brilliant enough to assimilate the intricacies and mind games of chess. Uncle Sirius was ever too eager to teach her,” Neville rejoined politely.

“Hermione is sitting right here and yes, she challenges you, Ronald Weasly to a game of chess tonight. I want to try the moves Lord Black suggested.” Their friend lifted her chin defiantly.

“You cannot back up now unless you want to be called a coward,” Henry’s grin widened.

“I’m not a coward!” Ron gasped, his face red with indignation.

“Good. I’ll be looking forward to your confrontation,” Neville chimed in.

“I see you are being as naughty as ever, Henry.” A soft voice he had missed intervened.

“Remus!” Henry shot to his feet and threw himself at his godfather. “What are you doing on the train?”

Remus hugged him for a moment, renewing their bond.

He bade him to take his seat back. Henry, obediently, settled back thrilled by his godfather’s presence.

Remus ran a hand through his dishevelled brown hair and smiled. “Dumbledore asked me to fill the vacant position of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and so, albeit, with some instinctive misgivings, I accepted the offer.”

Henry squirmed when his godfather gave him a sly side look.

“Why did you have some misgivings, Professor?” Ron asked.

“Well, I heard about what happened to your previous professors. I’m not looking forward to turning into ash or….”

“Fine!” Henry burst out. “But you’re not like Quirrell or Lockhart. I have a good feeling about this year. Why didn’t you tell me or Hadrian?”

Remus rolled his eyes. ”I sent a message to James and Sirius informing them. You know your father and uncle, they wanted to surprise you and Hadrian.”

The older wizard was alarmingly pale. With a heavy heart, Henry noticed the new scars marring the skin of his neck.

It was a full moon a couple of nights ago and he did not need to ask to know what his godfather went through. He knew full well.

However, he was thankful for any further opportunity to strengthen their bond and spend more time together.

“Why don’t you take a nap, Remus? You seem tired,” he suggested lightly.

“You are right. Maybe I should just do that.’’ The familiar gentleness of Remus’ voice coursed through the bond like a balm to the soul.

At times, he envied Hadrian for having his godfather nearby without fail.

He knew of Remus’ condition and really understood how much he struggled daily.

Nevertheless, he needed his godfather.

Although he was relieved that he would apparently spend more time with Remus, he could not keep his worries at bay.

His past with the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers wasn’t a stellar one and dread filled him at the mere thought of Remus being in danger or, Merlin Forbid, getting hurt.

Ron seemed intimidated by the fast-asleep professor. Henry motioned for him to speak freely.

“Do you reckon the Dementors will give us a hard time? I heard Dad and Mum arguing over the soundness of Fudge’s decision.”

“He’s a nutter to bring the Dementors to a school brimming with defenceless children,” Neville said uncomfortably. “They are notorious for driving people around insane.”

Henry clenched his jaw. The mere mention of the traitor had him shaking with fury.

But one thing was certain, he had to be brought back to Azkaban to receive his verdict justly no matter how tempting it was to end his miserable existence for good.

“I checked several books looking for more information. What I read wasn’t good at all. Only a Patronus which is a—‘’ Hermione stopped abruptly, eyes as large as saucers.

All of a sudden, everyone in the compartment became bone-chilled cold.

The icy, blistering wind struck their faces despite the closed window and made them quake in their robes.

The temperature went down alarmingly.

Henry turned to the window. Outside, it was extremely foggy nothing was visible clearly. 

As if it was not enough, a vague sadness overwhelmed them. Henry experienced a deep grief like never before. He fought valiantly not to fall to his knees and weep.

The train stopped with a jolt, almost knocking him off his seat. Then all light went out, plunging the compartment into ominous darkness,

With a heavy heart, he clutched his wand. “I’m afraid—‘’

The door suddenly slid open and someone’s hand felt around in the darkness.

“Who are you?” Ron screeched.

“Hello, Ron Weasley.” A cheerful voice answered unperturbed. “Can I stay with you? I hate darkness.”

“Luna?” Ron gasped.

“Take a seat, please,” Henry offered guiding her to the vacant place next to him. “Don’t worry.”

He whispered a ‘Lumos’ and looked into her silver-blue eyes.

“Thank you,” she sighed and made herself more comfortable.

“Will they attack?” Hermione asked hurriedly, surveying the door.

“I don’t know. You can’t trust a Dementor.”

Remus’ hand flew to his pocket and he stood, shielding them.

“Remus!” Henry exclaimed. 

“Stay put. You cannot handle a Dementor,” All joviality left his godfather’s face as he eyed the door warily.

Before he could take another step forward, the door opened and a cloaked, long figure drew a rattling breath.

For the first time, Hadrian Potter-Black was scared.

He had an inkling of what must be done.

He had learned the spell this summer; trying over and over again until he produced the desired result.

However, he was simply incapacitated by the memories the Dementors’ nearness brought.

Perhaps, he should have prepared more thoroughly.

“I will not give up,” he muttered under his breath.

The memory of Lord Fleamont Potter’s unmoving body wouldn’t leave his mind.

He heard his father’s anguished cry and his mother’s sobs. He saw the deep grief in Ezio and Belen’s round eyes.

More importantly, he remembered the seeping wound on Henry’s forehead and was reminded at once how close he came to losing his brother.

Not this time, he resolved. No Dementor was going to turn him into a weakling.

He could handle this. He could sort it out. He was merely taken aback, that was all

“Hadrian, maybe—‘’ Cassius reached out and clasped his shaking shoulder. “You don’t have to fight alone.”

“I know,” he grunted and willed his legs to comply, fighting an absurd chill in his bones. “I have to check on Henry.”

“We will come, too,” Adrian said nervously.

“No. Go and check on the younger students. Take the Carrow twins, Terrence and Miles with you. Cassius will come with me.”

“But—‘’

“As you wish,” Marcus glared at Adrian. “Let’s go. Now.” 

Dragging Adrian by the sleeve, Marcus opened the door and left.

“Hadrian. I know for a fact that Henry won’t have a hard time with the Dementors as you. He was too young to remember what went on that night,” Cassius said.

“I don’t care. Henry can’t defend himself against them yet. I have to make sure he’s fine.”

Hadrian froze when he sensed the tug on the bond.

He hurried down the corridor, Cassius by his side.

The scene was disconcerting. Firsties were crying in their compartments, hugging each other for comfort. 

Older students were reassuring their siblings and cousins. Prefects were gripping their wands tight and ordering everyone to close the doors and stay put.

He could never remember a time when the trip to Hogwarts was so disheartening.

Worry registered in Cassius’ expression as he realized the gravity of their predicament.

Recovering his composure, his friend said coldly. “This is unacceptable.”

“Do you think it’s too late to kill Fudge?” Hadrian growled.

Cassius nodded smiling. “Despite the fact that no such attempt had been made, we can always try.”

He was surprised when he found Remus guarding Henry’s compartment.

Of course—despite his father’s feeble attempts to hide the joyous news—he knew the identity of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

“Remus?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Hadrian,” Remus gave him a swift hug before he retrieved a bar of dark chocolate from his pocket. “Here, you need this. I’m going to check on the rest of the students.”

“Are Henry and his friends—“

“Hadrian!” Henry plummeted toward him, throwing himself into his open arms. “The feeling was horrible! It was as if I could never be happy again, as if the sun would never rise.”

“Easy,” he ran a soothing hand through his brother’s wild locks. 

Henry looked up at him with hard, determined eyes. “I cannot handle that helplessness again. I’m not weak. I cannot be a burden to you forever.”

“You are not—“ Hadrian reminded him mildly but was cut when Henry shook his head.

“Thanks to Remus’ Patronus, the Dementor fled. I have to learn the spell,” Henry declared very, very calmly, no longer pale and shivering.

“We want to learn how to produce a Patronus, too,” Hermione stood, followed by Ron and Neville.

“Why does it feel like I’ve seen something similar not long ago?” Cassius drawled lazily.

Hadrian understood the implications and symbolic significance of Henry and his friends’ bold statement.

They weren’t children anymore. They were ready to fight and he would like nothing more than to see for himself that they were ready.

“It was an ethereal wolf. Quite a noble creature,” a dreamy voice joined. “I’d like to see your Spirit Animals. I’m sure they will be beautiful.”

“Thank you, Miss Lovegood,” Henry smiled.

Hadrian exchanged a look with Cassius. 

Daphne stared at the window stonily.

She could scarcely force one syllable past her tight throat.

Astoria’s shivers took a while to subside and for warmth to spread to her frozen limbs.

At least, they weren’t attacked by a soul-sucker.

The cold, though, was too much. It was a gruelling experience she did not want to relive.

“Daphne?” Astoria’s voice was hoarse from crying. She looked down at her sister.

She cherished her with her eyes, emblazoning her every feature on her heart.

Despite how bold and willful she pretended to be, Astoria had suffered from nightmares for years.

Her greatest fear was to die alone, cold and abandoned.

Daphne had no intention of letting that happen. Astoria was not going to die if she had any say in the matter.

She would find a cure or die trying.

“Would you brush my hair? It helps me feel relax,” Astoria leaned her back against her chest and stared at the soft glow of light.

She supported her automatically, nearly leaping at the chance to make her sister feel better.

So when she asked her to do it, she did not resist or complain. Her hand worked steadily as she brushed and answered meaningful questions.  

Their grandmother’s brush flowed smoothly after a while, as did Astoria’s tongue.

Bit by bit, she regained her liveliness. 

When she was done, she laid her hand on her shoulder. She paused and the compartment seemed to have grown too quiet suddenly.

“Do not worry. We shall deal with whatever this year has in store for us.”

Astoria’s eyes half closed as light limned her face. “I was never worried, not when I have you by my side, Daph,” she murmured absently, voice thick with sleep.

Chapter Text

Hadrian leaned back in his chair and looked at Dumbledore as he welcomed the new first years.

He tried to assess whether he was disappointed, angry, or surprised.

It wasn’t the lack of reaction to what occurred in the train a few hours ago that set him on edge as much as the realization that the Headmaster was not going to make a statement and demand the Dementors were to be taken back to where they belonged.

In Azkaban.

Since the news of Peter Pettigrew’s miraculous escape spread out, his life had fallen into patterns of routine, of requisite conversation. Of measured responses and expected behaviours so as not to alert his family and friends and add to his parents’ burden.

He knew his magic was seething, calling for the traitor’s blood.

Even though the Potters were perceived as an ostentatiously virtuous lot, they were anything but.

Their code of honour rebelled against the notion of being bested time and again.

Natus Vincere were not mere words Lord Hardwin Potter chose as the Family Motto.

Like the Blacks, the Potter Magic was vicious and merciless. It demanded revenge as its due.

No Potter would find peace until the culprits paid accordingly for their misdeeds.

He did not envy his father. As the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, the Family Magic must be urging him to go berserk and start the chase.

“I wonder if we will have any respite this year,” Adrian sighed. His disappointment was apparent in his crestfallen expression.

“It’s not like we have any say in the way Fudge’s brilliant mind works,” Marcus scoffed. “He decided to bring the Dementors here and give them residence with us.”

The sarcasm forced a reluctant smile from him. He had no memory of the last time he smiled in the past few weeks.

He sobered when he sensed the melancholy seeping from some students’ magic like rain from a leaky roof.

He searched for the source and was startled when his eyes clashed with Astoria Greengrass’.

He knew there was something off about her magic. It was…weak and ailing, unlike her sister.

But…

She offered him a well-practised smile and shrugged. However, he caught something painful pass through her delicate features. 

He knew she wouldn’t like the way he was looking at her; as it was a thorough examination carried by strategic eyes. He did not want to make her uncomfortable. Surprisingly, he cherished the company of the younger witch.

Hadrian knitted his brows and slipped his gaze from Astoria. 

Cassius crooked one corner of his mouth and then popped a grape into it. “You’ve been staring at the younger Greengrass.”

“I was,” he nodded and pushed his plate away.

“You noticed, too? She piqued my curiosity a while ago and you know how not many things do,” Cassius whispered.

Hadrian sighed. “Of course, she did.”

“I have noticed how Heiress Greengrass is overprotective of her sibling. It’s as if she’s trying to shield her from something,” Cassius went on, unabashed.

His eyes went inadvertently to Daphne.

They stared at each other across the ringing chatter. The longer he looked, he more he became convinced that the two sisters were carrying a heavy burden not unlike his own.

“And now, let’s welcome the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Remus Lupin,” Dumbledore stood and started clapping.

There was some scattered applause.

Hadrian gave his Housemates a meaningful look and they started clapping politely.

“Little Henry seems overjoyed,” Adrian smirked.

It was an obvious assessment, though he couldn’t help but feel happy for his brother when he heard it.

Dumbledore waited until the clapping stopped and continued. “I have another announcement to make. Professor Kettleburn retired at the end of last year. But worry not, our dear Rubeus Hagrid agreed to fill the spot of Care of Magical Creatures teacher in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

“Bloody Hell,” Adrian muttered under his breath. “Do you reckon the kind of creatures he’ll bring for class?”

“You shouldn’t have taken Care of Magical Creatures, Rian,” Cassius tsked. 

The applause was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table while the other Houses seemed reluctant to join in.

“I wonder, what other surprises are waiting for us this year,” Marcus groaned.

“I might even rank higher than you this year, you know,” Henry winked.

Hermione went from red to pale so quickly that he thought she might turn green next. 

“You—You have your eyes on my spot…Why you—“ She stopped and drew in a deep breath then began again. “Fine. I accept the challenge.”

Henry chuckled when she gave him a doleful look. “Don’t give me that face. I have no plans to become the brightest wizard of my age. I have many titles to deal with as it is. However, I won’t have less than twelve NEWTS. It’s not open to discussion.”

“Mr Potter,” Professor Bathsheda Babbling arched a brow at him. “Would you pay attention to class?”

“I’m sorry, Professor,” he ducked his head sheepishly.

An hour later, his pulse racing, Henry dragged Hermione, Ron and Neville to their next class.

“Would you slow down?” Ron sighed, fully oblivious. “It’s not like we are late.”

“Nothing is wrong with arriving early,” Hermione countered. “You know how much Henry loves Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

She gave Ron a meaningful look, but their friend—as expected—didn’t get the hint.

“I’d like to learn from Professor Lupin,” Neville intervened. “I heard he was an outstanding student. He graduated with Honours.”

“He did,” Henry confirmed proudly. “The Marauders, despite the pranks they played, excelled in academics and ranked among the top five. Well, all of them except for the rat.” His jovial mood disappeared as soon as he remembered the traitor.

Hermione reached out and patted his hand. “He will be caught soon, don’t worry.”

“I know,” he agreed.

As soon as they arrived at the classroom, Henry scanned it. The changes were obvious. The classroom was empty except for an old wardrobe.

Professor Lupin was waiting for them with a kind smile.

“Good evening everyone,” he said cheerfully glancing at their earnest faces. “This year, we will opt for a practical approach.”

“I love the sound of this,” Henry nodded vigorously.

“Thank you, Mr Potter,” Remus laughed lightly. “I thought you’d like that. So, this year we will study Dark Creatures. Can anyone guess which one we have inside this wardrobe?”

As expected, Hermione was the first to lift her hand followed by Daphne Greengrass.

“Yes, Miss Granger,” Remus said. 

“Considering you brought a closet, my guess is that today’s creature is a Boggart. They are particularly fond of confined spaces. They may also be found in woods and around shadowy corners.”

“Excellent, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. Now can anyone tell me what is a Boggart? Yes Miss Greengrass,” Remus beckoned the blonde with a quirk on his lips.

“A Boggart is a shape-shifting creature that will assume the form of whatever most frightens the person who encounters it,” Daphne said matter-of-fact.

“Another great answer. Take five points, too.”

Remus caught his gaze and his heart gave a leap when he predicted what was coming.

Of course, he knew of Boggarts. He spent the summer studying the third year’s curriculum.

He knew the right spell, too.

What he didn’t know was what shape would his Boggart take, not that he was much enthused to learn that bit of information.

“Considering there are many of you, it would confuse the Boggart. In fact, you’d better have company when facing one. However, we are here today to learn the charm that could repel a Boggart. Does anyone know it?”

“It’s Riddikulus,” Henry said.

“True. And remember, Riddikulus forces the Boggart to take the shape that you find amusing. Curious, I know,” Remus’ lips curved. “So, let’s practice, first. Everyone, Riddikulus!”

When Remus was certain that all the students mastered the spell’s pronunciation, he asked them to make a line.

Unsurprisingly, Henry was the first.

“Henry, are you ready?” Remus asked gently.

“I am,” his voice held resignation when he answered.

“Good,” Remus smiled. “Everyone back up. Henry?”

“Let’s do it,” he aimed his wand at the wardrobe’s door, eyes set.

Remus flicked his wand and hit the doorknob. A ghostly had emerged first, reminding him of a Dementor.

He did not miss the nervous look Remus gave him.

He wasn’t afraid, though. Not really.

As soon as the thought hit him, the Dementor’s hand shifted and took the shape of….

Henry gulped and his eyes widened.

His brother, Harry stepped down gracefully from the wardrobe.

“Hadrian?” he barely heard Neville’s gasp. His eyes were glued to his brother.

There was something disturbingly off about him. His beautiful green eyes held no warmth. 

Warring thoughts swelled in the heavy silence as he gripped his wand tighter.

He fought his panic when Harry reached for him.

There was a revolted twist to his lips as he accused. “You failed me. Look what you’ve done.”

Henry gaped and his colour drained when Harry pointed to his chest, where blood was seeping from a deep wound.

“I died. For you,” Harry turned then and Henry had a clear view of the damage done to his chest. “You weren’t there when I needed you. I’ve been doing my best to—‘’

‘’Riddikulus!’’ Henry shouted, his breath shallow.

Was this his greatest fear? To disappoint his brother and let him down?

Harry froze. With a crack, he shifted taking the shape of a bat wearing a clown’s wig. It opened its mouth with a squeak.

Laughter filled the classroom.

“Well done, Mr Potter,” Remus patted his shoulder. “I know it wouldn’t be easy for you considering what you fear most is fear itself. Fear of not being there when your family and those you love need you the most.”

“I needed to know,” Henry’s expression was solemn as he stood rigidly straight. “It’s not that Harry would ever be disappointed in me. That would never happen.”

“Was that what—‘’ Remus asked knowingly.

‘’Yes, it's what took me out of my stupor,” he confessed with a resolved face. “Because I trust Harry and I trust my family. We’ve been through a great deal together all these years, haven’t we?”

“Never doubt that, Henry,” Remus whispered for his ears only then asked Seamus to take his place.

“Well done, Henry,” Neville was the first to smile. “For a moment, I feared that your Boggart would take the shape of a Dementor.”

“That’s what I thought first, too,” he said with exasperation. “Not that I fear Dementors. We’ll learn how to produce Patroni soon.”

“Really?” Ron sounded suitably excited.

“Of course, we will. My brother never goes back on his word. I can ask Remus for pointers, as well. I don’t plan to spend this year hampered by my inability to protect myself” His brow furrowed. “I have better things to take care of.”

“You don’t plan to—“ Hermione peered around with huge eyes.

“I can’t lie to you,” Henry said keeping his voice low.

“And we’ll have your back, mate,” Ron’s voice reverberated with intent.

Hadrian’s straightforward gaze swept Theodore Nott’s face. Every instinct told him there was something off about his younger housemate. 

Almost self-consciously, Theo smoothed his robes and went back to his homework. Like always, he was sitting with Blaise Zabini, his best friend.

“His mother died last summer,” Cassius stopped skimming through the Ancient Runes books he had taken a liking to thanks to Adrian. “She’s been ailing for years. Nott’s relationship with his father hadn’t improved a whole lot after the tragedy. Somehow, he never stopped accusing him of being the reason behind Lady Eleanor’s sickness.”

“I’ve heard of Lady Eleanor Selwyn Nott's illness. She hadn’t been well since she gave birth to her son,” he nodded. “Theodorus Nott is a bastard. How could he blame his son and Heir for such a thing is beyond me. No wonder he used to lick Voldemort’s filthy feet.”

Cassius sighed and closed his book. “You can’t save everyone, Hadrian. Of course, his encounter with the dementors left its mark on him.”

Hadrian nodded stiffly. “I know.” He fixed his friend with his deepest stare. “However, I can always try. It’s my duty to protect my snakes.”

Cassius offered him a tentative smile though he didn’t look comforted. “Maybe you should start with teaching your brother how to produce a Patronus, soon. He’s been looking for you this afternoon.”

Hadrian groaned.

After his last class, he headed for the deserted classroom he used with the Court for training.

Lately, he noticed that he needed to release surplus magic more often.

As Arcturus had predicted, being Heir to two Ancient Houses was no small deal.

He sensed the moments the Potter magic clashed with the Black magic. He sensed the moment the two family magics worked together in sync, too.

Hadrian stood his face set and Cassius followed. “Where are you going? It’s past curfew. You are showing a blatant disregard for Hogwart's preestablished rules.”

Hadrian answered by lifting an amused brow.

“Fine, I know no Prefect would dare bother you.”

“I’d like to see them try. I need to see Henry. Draco reported what happened in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, today. He must be worried.” 

Worry welled up in his throat like burning bile but he kept his expression neutral.

“I understand,” Cassius’ smile was genuine. “Go to Henry, he needs you.”

--

Hadrian walked leisurely, heading for the Owlery.

He reached for the bond earlier and knew that Henry would understand his pressing need for a meeting.

His head, however, swam with a myriad of thoughts.

He could sense the Dementors’ presence nearby. He was finding it difficult to keep his calm as he waited.

He couldn’t help but believe that Pettigrew was way craftier than to rush to Hogwarts and fall into the soul suckers' hands.

He had proven time and again that he was not one to underestimate.

The winding staircase led to the Owlery. He grasped the handle and pushed the door open.

Immediately, he noticed another presence.

“Daphne?’’ He exclaimed, his eyes darting from the book in her hands to her apprehensive eyes. 

Surprised, he remained still so as not to alarm her. “Daphne, are you alright?” he said quietly as his concerned gaze met hers.

“Do you have plans to meet someone here?” she said, her voice strained. “I know you come to the Owlery frequently.”

Steadily, she clutched the book to her chest and then returned her attention to him. “I can leave.”

He scanned the title and sighed. “You’ve been looking for books about how to produce a Patronus.”

“I was,” she said with a faint, bleak smile. “But they’re no help. I need to be taught by someone who has mastered the charm.”

Glancing into her face, he fought the need to shake his head.

Was this meeting a coincidence or had she been expecting him?

He wouldn’t put it past the devious witch to do whatever it took to get what she wanted. He understood why she needed to produce a Patronus so desperately.

“You want me to teach you.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement.

Her icy-blue eyes were hazed with eagerness despite the faint flush that rushed to her cheeks. “Would you agree to help me?”

“You can join the rest of his students,” Henry simpered as he opened the door and sauntered to stand by his side. 

“Henry,” Hadrian said, tightening his tone. 

“I know how hard Hadrian worked until he brought forth his Guardian Animal,” Henry went on reflectively ignoring his hidden warning. “He wouldn’t settle for an incorporeal Patronus, of course.”

“Of course,” Daphne said curtly, though he noticed the amusement marking her tone. “I wouldn’t expect less from Heir Potter-Black.”

The teasing quirk of Henry’s lips told him he was enjoying himself tremendously. At his expense.

“So, you want me to teach you, both of you?” He drew his wand nonchalantly enjoying the way their eyes widened as they felt the taut pressure of his magic.

“We do,” Henry nodded firmly. “You promised.”

“I’d be grateful if you would help me master the Patronus charm,” Daphne said hoarsely.

That drew a faint smile from him.

With a simple twirl of his wand, he summoned his Guardian Animal.

From the tip of his grandfather’s wand sprouted the creature of legends.

He heard Henry and Daphne’s gasp the moment the mighty Griffin flapped its silvery wings, his diamond eyes boring into his company, always watchful and eager to protect.

The king of winged creatures and beasts adopted a horaltic pose as it waited for his command.

“It’s huge,” Henry whispered in awe.

He kept his Guardian Animal a secret. Only Arcturus had seen the Griffin considering he was there when it made its first appearance.

“For a moment, I have expected a Grim,” his mentor chuckled. “But you carry Fleamont’s wand. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“We can’t have two Grims at once,’’ he countered. “Sirius would drive me mad with his gloating.”

Arcturus wasn’t disappointed. He knew that Hadrian was first and foremost a Potter. Moreover, Griffins symbolized power and protection, two things the Blacks admired and cherished.

“Your lessons will start this weekend. Be ready, I don’t tolerate indolence.”

His smile was feral. Despite that, Henry and Daphne seemed enlivened.

That look suited her best, he decided. Seeing the younger witch worried didn’t settle well with him for an uncanny reason he didn’t care to examine thoroughly.

Chapter Text

Henry couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so excited.

Magic crackled like wildfire inside his core and awareness coursed through his veins.

He could sense the unmistakable heaviness of his brother’s magic filling the room.

Hermione must have known he was stalling. She spun around and with a displeased frown, ushered him to move.

He shrugged and slowly scanned the deserted classroom.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been to the Court’s training room before. Of course, Hadrian would not deny him the privilege of stepping into a forbidden place.

House Slytherin banner was hanging proudly above the fireplace, a reminder that he was in what most would perceive as enemy territory.

Henry snorted inwardly.

He heard his father and Sirius’ tales about Slytherin since he was a five-year-old infant.

However, Hadrian and the Slytherins he knew were the furthest thing from evil.

Evil could exist everywhere, in the most unexpected places. The most docile lamb could turn out to be a ferocious wolf under disguise.

His family had learnt that lesson the hard way.

He would never judge another Wixen just because he was different. He loved his father and uncles, most ardently, but he wouldn’t repeat their past mistakes.

Unlike James Potter, Henry did not have the luxury nor the time to frolic.

He had a Dark Lord after him and his family.

But most importantly, he had Dementors to chase away so he could concentrate on more pressing matters.

Like catching a sneaky rat for instance.

Outwardly oblivious to his frank appraisal, and flanked by his best friends: Cassius, Adrian and Marcus, Harry turned and made his way to the fireplace.

Everyone was silent. Henry knew better. Hermione, Ron, Neville and Daphne must be shaking with nerves.

Naturally, he used the little reprieve to compose himself. Unlike his friends, he knew his brother well.

Harry was a perfectionist and a taskmaster.

They would get no mercy from him.

“Just two more and we will start with our first lesson.” The heavy silence was broken.

Henry’s eyes widened. “Two more?”

Harry smirked. “Yes. We will teach you all we know about the Patronus Charm. You are free to share this knowledge with whoever you want. Like you, these two students approached me asking for help. Well, one of them did anyway.”

Cassius’ eyes twinkled with amusement. “You would’ve dragged the second student here had he not relented and agreed to come.”

Harry eyed his best mate blankly. “I can recommend an excellent cure for boredom—other than spying on me—simply apply yourself to a more useful activity.”

“Why would I ever do that? I have you, my dearest friend,” Cassius drawled.

Henry snorted when he noticed the expression on Hermione, Ron and Neville’s faces. His friends didn’t know his brother well. He had a dry sense of humour.

“They are here,” Hadrian announced.

The door opened slowly and Draco Malfoy came first followed by….Theo Nott.

“Nott?” Ron gasped.

“Do you have a problem with that, Weasley?” An amused voice chirped. Being the shortest of the three; they hadn’t noticed Astoria Greengrass until she walked to stand beside her sister.

“Astoria,” Daphne chided. 

“What? I was merely making sure that we won’t face any problems later. I can see how mismatched this group is which makes it all the more…entertaining,” she shrugged unapologetically.

“So you decided to join us, Astoria?” Hadrian cocked a brow up.

“Yes. Even though I don’t have what it takes to produce a Patronus. Yet. I would like to study how the spell works and what makes it one of the hardest to master. I won’t bother you. Just ignore my presence and do whatever you are planning to do, anyway," she turned innocent eyes toward his brother then lowered her gazer demurely. 

Henry almost stumbled back. Laughter bubbled in his throat.

The younger Greengrass was…so good.

He was aware that Hadrian had a soft spot for her but he didn’t know how close they were.

“Very well, suit yourself,” Hadrian smiled. “Now, to start our training properly, Professor Lupin agreed to burrow us his Boggart. It’s the closest thing to a real Dementor we could find. Some Magizoologists believe that the two creatures descend from the same progenitor. They have many similarities. Both feed on their prey’s fear.”

“Does Expecto Patronum drive Boggarts away?” Hermione asked.

“Yes. All you have to do is imagine that you are dealing with a Dementor. I know it doesn’t make much sense but I will need your assistance. I need you to remember your encounter with the Dementors and summon all the fear and apprehension you felt then. Imagine that you are alone in the Forbidden Forest and out of nowhere, a Dementor corners you. How would you deal with it?” Hadrian explained.

To demonstrate what Hadrian explained, Cassius touched the closet with the tip of his wand and a Dementor’s bony hand crept out.

Henry felt his entire body go motionless.

It was as if he was back on the train. However, he found himself fascinated when an unbearable chill descended upon them.

“You are doing well,” Hadrian nodded. “Every one of you is summoning their memories of that day. Good.”

Henry watched Cassius retreat a step. He lifted his wand and with a clear voice, he said. “Expecto Patronum.” 

The Dementor shrieked when a beam of blinding light left the tip of Cassius' wand. A mighty eagle flapped its wings, driving the creature away.

Cassius kept pushing until the Boggart had no choice but to seek the safety of the closet. 

“Amazing!” Hermione blurted with awe.

The teasing quirk of Cassius’ lips made her try to muster some semblance of composure. Her blush betrayed her, though. “I mean—th-the eagle. It’s a majestic creature.’’

‘’Thank you, Miss Granger, ‘’ Cassius bowed. “The eagle is a crucial part of House Warrington’s Emblem. He’s our pride.”

Henry’s smile fell. He furrowed his brow, not sure what to think. Uncertainty was an uncharted sea for him.

What form would his Patronus take? Hadrian had managed to reproduce their grandfather’s Griffin and bring forth the sacred animal of House Potter.

“Don’t overthink it, it won’t do you any good,” Hadrian whispered. “Your magic knows better than you. Your Spirit Guardian is already there, living inside you. All you have to do is summon it and treat it with due respect. All creatures are noble and unique.”

Once again Hadrian managed to guess the thoughts taxing his mind. It never failed to startle him. “I know. Thank you for reminding me."

“Remember,” Hadrian clapped his shoulder. “You don’t have to live to anyone’s expectations. We are proud of you.”

Henry nodded.

He had plenty of happy memories to summon. He was very grateful for the beautiful childhood he had, for all the love and understanding his parents, uncles and most importantly brother showered him with. 

He didn’t need to think, he knew what memory he would summon. His hand went instinctively to his necklace.

Yes. It was his greatest possession.

“Very well, kids. Let’s form a line and start practising. We don’t have all night, you know,” Adrian beckoned them. 

Henry noticed that Theo did not join small group.

When he chanced a glance over his shoulder, the smaller boy’s gaze flickered away. But he’d been watching him and Hadrian.

As expected, none of the students managed to produce more than a beam of pure magic.

Henry’s incorporeal Patronus was the strongest.

Instinctively, he knew what form it would take in the future. 

A Stag.

Henry had always strove to please their father and follow the Potters’ way faithfully.

Hadrian suspected that the Sorting Hat had given him a choice, but he opted for Gryffindor. He was already a Marauder in the making. His Patronus would not be any different.

Stags represented what Potters admired most: Stamina, grace and regeneration. They were the kings of the forest and had the crown of antlers to prove it.

Theo seemed to be counting the minutes until everyone left. He wasn’t much for socializing. It looked like he was finding it difficult to pretend to relax and enjoy himself.

He was itching to try the Patronus Charm though, of that Hadrian had no doubt.

He watched and observed as the other students tried over and over again; studying their movements and analyzing their mistakes.

Hadrian exchanged a glance with Draco. His cousin told him all there was to learn about the boy.

He had keen awareness and razor-sharp senses. He was extremely intelligent, too but unlike Hermione and Daphne, he didn’t display his genius. He preferred to remain in the shadows.

Hadrian willed himself to stand rooted where he was, waiting for Heir Nott to approach him first.

He trusted Draco with the task of bringing him to this class knowing how much he would benefit from the training.

A Slytherin at heart, Draco rushed to do his bidding. He wanted to help his best friend. Moreover, he couldn’t let the chance of learning how to produce a Patronus at the age of thirteen slip through his greedy fingers.

Draco did not disappoint. He was dreadfully predictable.

Hadrian assiduously avoided looking at Theo as he waved to his brother. Henry seemed to understand his need for some time alone with Theo.

The brat was more perceptive than he let on.

“Heir Potter-Black, thank you for your generous invitation,” Theo’s face was blank.

Control and discipline were the first words that came to mind.

These were the traits Hadrian prided himself on. They were what made him an elite student and King.

“I trust you managed to catch some pointers, Heir Nott,” Hadrian observed.

“I did. Your take is a bit unusual but strangely, it makes complete sense considering…we are not ready to confront a real Dementor yet,” Theo said. “I believe Draco’s invitation wasn’t a coincidence. You wanted to have me here. Why?”

Straight to the point and as sceptical. Two traits of every Slytherin worthy of his green and silver tie.

“I am the King of the Slytherin Court,” Hadrian tilted his head to the side and gave the shorter boy a long look. “It’s my duty to help you. Draco reported how bothered you were by the Dementors.”

Theo frowned but didn’t comment for a moment. 

“He cares about you,” Hadrian paused. “He considers you and Heir Zabini his best friends.”

Wariness flashed through Theo’s moss-green eyes but was masked as soon as it appeared. “I enjoy his company.”

“Good friends are a man’s true treasure. Don’t blame him for interfering.” His gaze skimmed over Theo’s face.

Despite his efforts, he seemed troubled. Nevertheless, he met his gaze through haunted eyes. “I know and I am grateful.”

Hadrian decided not to keep his housemate waiting any longer. “Would you like to try?”

“I—‘’ Theo closed his eyes in defeat.

“You think you don’t have any good memories to summon,” Hadrian guessed. “But you are wrong. I’m certain there’s a moment, a person, you want to remember. Just imagine how it would feel to go back in time and—‘’

“My Mother,” Theo whispered. A hint of sadness flickered in those emotionless eyes he was starting to be able to read.

“The memory is yours. You don’t have to share it with me,” Hadrian tried not to show any pity. Theo wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Can I try?” he stood slowly and looked at the closet.

“Of course, you can. The Boggart is all yours,” Hadrian smiled.

It was a small progress but a progress nevertheless.

His hand clenched around his wand when he remembered what happened in Potter Manor thirteen years ago. His gut twisted as he imagined what Theo went through. He had no one to turn to, no one to shield him from his father’s atrocity.

Maybe he should discuss this matter with Arcturus.

--

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Cassius sighed. “Marcus is not ready for another loss to Wood.”

Suddenly realizing he had been sitting in a chair, staring into nothingness, Hadrian jumped to his feet, the Marauders Map clutched into his shaking hand.

“Hadrian?” Adrian sounded alert.

“I found him,” he whispered. He was surprised that his voice came steady, not betraying his slight case of hysteria.

His physical masks were holding even though the mental ones were breaking down.

The alluring Black Madness called to him, whispering promises he could hardly ignore.

Cassius’ stormy eyes tracked his every move. “By him, can I assume you are talking about Pettigrew?”

When Hadrian calmly stared back, Cassius’ eyes narrowed. “Where is he?”

“I’ve been following his movements for a while,” Hadrian confessed. “He’s been getting closer to the school premises. For two days, he didn’t leave the Shrieking shack. It seems like he decided to take residence there thinking no one would find out.”

“The bastard!” Adrian huffed. “What are we waiting for? Let’s ambush him.”

“No,” Hadrian said, trying not to succumb to Adrian’s tempting invitation. “Let him think he succeeded in fooling everyone."

“But….what if he runs away?” Adrian frowned.

“He’s plotting something, otherwise why would he come here? He knows that Hogwarts is brimming with Dementors,” Cassius reflected.

“There is quite a difference between being considered the safest place in Magical Britain and being safe. Hogwarts was never safe for Henry.’’ It was a statement. “I’m sending a message to my family at once.”

“And Henry?” Adrian hesitated.

“He needs to know.”

It wouldn’t be easy to deal with the rat without killing him. Hadrian wanted to retreat into his mind and wipe away the pain the memories brought. The temptation of unleashing the vicious beast that lived inside him was dangerous, a lethal seduction that could turn him rogue like Bellatrix, unable to remember what he’d been taught for years.

Thankfully, his Spirit Guardian was there to protect him. The Griffin spread his wings and the warmth of the Potter magic swaddled him.

Driven by his instinctive need to keep the people he loved safe, he pushed back the enticing whispers of the Black Magic.

The overflowing magic inside his core was ecstasy and agony, but it was his fate; his privilege to protect the two families.

Peter Pettigrew was cornered. His time would come, soon.

Chapter Text

Henry froze as he realized that all six members of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team were gaping at him.

That sobered his excitement fast. “Er….guys?”

Angelina scoffed. “A Firebolt? Are you kidding me?”

Henry smiled sheepishly. “Er..well…You see...”

“Make sure you use it well,” Oliver growled. “Did your brother receive one as well?”

Fred snorted. “You know Hadrian did. The Potters treat their kids fairly.”

Henry shrugged. “Actually, it was Sirius who bought the brooms for us. Mum thought that the price was exorbitant."

“Rightfully so,” Alicia huffed.

"A broom is a broom. It's the player's talent that matters," he chirped.

George tsked at him as he tried to tame a strand of his riotous hair. Seriously, why wasn’t his hair soft and silky like Hadrian?

“A Firebolt is not a broom. It’s a travesty to demean a work of art. Now, our chances are way greater. The Firebolt was designed for Seekers first considering it’s very fast. It will give you an advantage unless the Slytherin Seeker has one and is as talented as you.”

Henry offered a devilish grin. “Did I forget to mention that Draco took the position this year? Higgs resigned. He wants to concentrate on his NEWTS. I’m not sure if his father gifted him a Firebolt.”

“Bloody Hell, not that spoiled brat,” Oliver cursed under his breath. “Is he any good?”

With a shrug, he said innocently. “Hadrian says he has potential.” He bit his lower lip when Oliver’s face paled. It was way too easy to tease the Captain.

“Flint cannot win. This is my last year. The Cup is mine!” He curled his lip, his fists clenched.

Henry feigned offence. “Hey! Have some faith in your Seeker. Believe it or not, I defied my Mum and spent two hours every morning during the holidays training. I risked getting my allowance cut for you, Oliver.”

“You are good,” George winked at him.

“I learned from the best,” Henry smirked, unruffled. 

Oliver cleared his throat. “Well…You are the youngest Seeker in a century, of course, I believe in you.”

One of Henry’s brows arched and he sent his Captain a reproving glance. “Thank you for the unwavering confidence.”

Oliver shook his head and forced himself to say. “Anyways, let’s crush the opponent. I cannot believe that Snape hadn’t tried to cheat his way for an easy win. I thought he’d try to spare his team this awful weather.”

“He knows that his Team is too delicate to brave this storm,” Angelina pointed out in blatant mockery.

Henry sighed and lifted his gaze to the sky.

Thick, smoky clouds rolled in like boulders, ready to crush anything in their way.

The darkness was engulfing and seemed to consume whatever dared challenge it.

A while ago, a downpour came gushing down. Bright, flashing light lit up the sky like fireworks and banging, crashing thunder roared furiously.

Truth to be told, he wasn’t eager to mount his Firebolt and start this match.

“Alright, let’s go and smash some pesky Slytherins,” Oliver ordered.

Good Godric…

Hopefully, he would find the Snitch soon.

“I’m working on it, give me a break!” Hadrian shouted as Marcus ordered him to score. 

Again.

His Firebolt zoomed faster than his teammates' brooms and he enjoyed the rush of adrenaline in his veins.

“—According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt’s going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year’s World Championship—“ Lee Jordan gushed and he ignored him.

He watched as Draco streaked past Fred Weasley’s Bludger, searching for the Snitch.

The years he spent as a reserve Seeker did him good. He gained more confidence in his ability and learned plenty of tricks and manoeuvres from Terrence.

Draco had filled in for Cassius last year when George’s Bludger inflicted him a serious shoulder injury. He’d been good but Hadrian knew that his eyes were on Terrence’s spot.

His weight worked for him. He was lean and light.

Nevertheless, he was no match for Henry.

The brat was showing off, taunting and teasing and Draco seemed to fall for his deviltry.

With luck, he wouldn’t try to mimic Henry’s dives.

Cassius managed to score another goal and he gave his friend a thumbs-up.

They were leading two hundred points to forty. Swiftly, he veered off course when Fred’s Bludger came pelting towards him.

“Really, Weasley?” he lifted an eyebrow.

“Can I, please, knock you off?” Fred fluttered his eyelashes.

“Not in this lifetime,” he shook his head and swerved to avoid a collision with Alicia Spinnet.

“Henry! Move it!” Wood roared. “I’m soaked, mate. I need that Snitch. Now.”

“What!” Marcus growled and gave his nemesis an incredulous glance, seeming genuinely offended by the idea of losing.

“I’m on it, Captain,” Henry yelled then plummeted down, eyes fixed on the prize.

“Draco,” Hadrian frowned slightly. “Go. You don’t want to get lectured by Marcus later.”

Mockery edged Adrian’s tone as he added. “Yes, you don’t want to get that, Dray. I advise against that particular skill of Flint. He’s a complete lunatic.”

“Adrian Pucey! Less talking and more working on knocking off Gryffindors of their brooms!” 

“I think it’s safe to say that you and Marcus don’t bring out the best in each other,” Cassius said snidely as he scored another goal. 

“I hate you all,” Adrian moaned and took a swift turn eyes fixed on Johnson. “Hello, beautiful Angelina, Did you miss me?”

Hadrian turned and caught sight of Henry turning his Firebolt upwards. It seemed that the Snitch had vanished again.

Hadrian’s brows furrowed in concern. The weather was dreadful. It was getting harder and harder to hold a broom straight; even the great Firebolt.

“We’re one seventy points up. I need Henry to catch the Snitch, we cannot play into the night. The two teams are knackered,” he sighed.

“Thank Merlin Marcus didn’t hear you,” Cassius said in a chiding tone. He came to a halt, his broom hovering next to his. “Are you cheering for the enemy?”

Hadrian swept an intent gaze over their surroundings. “Henry is the better Seeker, Draco cannot match him yet or…. probably ever. I have a bad feeling about this match. Look at the sky.”

Cassius’ eyes narrowed. “The Dementors are heading our way. I can almost smell their stench.”

An icy runnel of rain ran down his sleeve and he ignored it. 

Hadrian stilled, his muscles tense as a clanking sound was suddenly heard from the sky as if a huge anvil was being dragged against dry clay soil. Branched lightning lit the sky and he knew they were cornered.

“Cassius, follow me,” he said tersely.

They headed toward the middle of the field where Henry and Draco were chasing the Snitch.

At that same moment, a swarm of Dementors glided in a black mass toward his brother and Draco.

“Sweet Salazar,” Cassius inhaled. 

He heard the players' anguished yells and screams. At once, he flicked his wand the Patronus Charm on the tip of his tongue.

He frowned when Henry appeared both shaken and pleased.

“What the—“ Spinnet, who was hovering beside him, gasped.

Hadrian lowered his wand and his lips twitched with a smile.

“Hadrian?” Cassius prompted, on the verge of calling for his Eagle.

“Let him do it. He’s ready,” he said calmly.

He closed his mental shields, not ready to relieve any of his bitter memories.

He felt the Griffin stir and he knew that his Spirit Animal would be there for him if he were to fall between the Dementors' clutches.

“Look after the rest and take Adrian with you,” he urged.

Cassius nodded and called for their teammates to descend.

Henry pulled out of a dive sharply.

Draco fumbled and gripped his offered arm. After a slight hesitation, he jumped.

As soon as he was settled behind Henry, his arms latching tightly around his waist, the brat shouted. “Expecto Patronus!”

Two things happened at once.

A huge Stag with two rows of antlers forming two symmetrical racks appeared. The sight invited every eye to rest and soak in the wonder of the bright creature. 

The Stag glanced at him with such sweet and gentle eyes, before it pelted toward the Dementors with strong confidence and grace, gaze set.

Not soon did the Antlers touch the first Dementor, a sleek Panther joined it.

“Merlin’s Mercy,” Spinnet breathed.

It was a long moment before he finally nodded.

It was a marvellous sight, indeed.

“We taught them well,” Cassius chimed in.

“They grasped the essence of the Patronus well,” he corrected his best friend. 

His sharp gaze went to Daphne and the small, puzzled grin she threw at him warmed his insides more than he wanted it to.

Astoria was hugging her sister's waist tight, eyes closed. His throat tightened as Daphne  blinked back tears she didn’t want her sister—or anyone—to see, lest they learned of her weakness.

A weakness he intended to help her overcome.

He watched her for a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She did it.

They did it.

The cold was unbearable but Hadrian watched proudly as the silvery light of the two Patroni drove the Dementors' away. The Stag and the Panther galloped behind the soul-suckers but they were already gone.

“This is—“ Lee Jordan stammered.

“Lee, Let’s—“ Professor McGonagall gasped.

“Good Godric!” Lee chuckled. “Look at this! I told you time and again that he’s the best Seeker Hogwarts had ever seen. Do you believe me now? Henry Potter catches the Snitch. Unfortunately, Slytherin wins, But—“

“At least we’ll get a good night's sleep,” Cassius shrugged. 

“Yes, Marcus seems happy,” he exchanged a look with Henry.

The brat winked then dived down at breakneck speed.

“Potter!” Draco shrieked.

“Oh, come on Malfoy. Let me show you how fast this broom can go. You’ll love it,” Henry grinned.

He rolled his eyes. He knew that grin. 

--

Once they were out of view, Hadrian retrieved the Marauders Map and his lips twisted with a feral grin.

“Are you sure about this?” Cassius asked. “Let me help you.”

“Father, Sirius and Remus will be here soon. It has been a while since the Marauders did anything worthwhile with their wands. Might as well catch a stinky rat.” he pointed out. 

Cassius shook his head. “I fear they might kill him before you get to extract any information from his lips.”

“That would be an inconvenience,” he said with a snort. “They know better than to hinder the plan.” 

He contemplated the Shrieking Shack and exhaled.

It took him two weeks of following the rat’s movements to understand that he had no intention of leaving the school premises.

It didn’t take a genius to understand that he was after something.

He was after Henry.

“Hadrian,” James took him in his arms as soon as he apparated.

“Father,” he returned the swift hug.

“Cassius, I hope you’ve been doing well,” his father greeted the Warrington Heir.

Cassius bowed. “Thank you, Lord Potter.” He looked sceptical. “Well, I will follow the plan even if I’d rather go inside with you. I will be here in case the rat manages to escape.”

“He won’t,” Sirius said in a way that left no room for doubt and flicked his wand out.

Hadrian gave the shack a dark glance and lifted his wand. “Let’s ward—“

He groaned when he sensed the new arrival. “Henry.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter then sobered when James glared at him. “This is not funny, Padfoot."

“Dad, Sirius? Are you here to join me for my first Hogsmeade trip?” he smiled sweetly. 

Way too sweetly.

“He-Henry?” Sirius stuttered. “Why are you here, Pup? Shouldn’t you be with your friends?”

With every ounce of patience he could muster, Hadrian asked slowly. “Were you following me and Cassius?”

“Of course, I was,” Henry said indignantly. “I knew you were up to something the moment you confessed that you spotted Pettigrew on the map. Don’t worry, I paid the twins handsomely to keep Ron, Hermione and Neville busy until I go back. This is family business and I know how you feel about that.”

“Are you sure you’re not a Slytherin?” Sirius muttered sullenly.

“The idea didn’t appeal to me. We can’t have two Slytherins in the family.” The brat shrugged.

James slid his younger son an exasperated glance. “Son, this is dangerous. We are about to confront a criminal.”

“Certainly it is,” Henry nodded without hesitation. “But I’m ready. Please, let me help you. I’ve been training with Hadrian. I read all the books Grandpa Arcturus suggested to improve my grasp on Spell Casting. I’m ready.”

Sirius’ lips quirked as his eyes volleyed between his best friend and Henry. “James?”

“Let him come, I’ll protect him,” Remus didn’t slow his pace as he joined them. 

James let out a frustrated huff.

“Yes, let me come, Dad. I’m already here, you cannot expect me to leave. I’ll follow you anyway.”

He dodged around them, heading toward the entrance.

Hadrian forestalled him by hauling him back by collar. “Were you spying on us? How did you know where to find the entrance?”

“Well,” Henry smiled at his expression. “I’ve been following you since you and Cassius left your friends in the Three Broomsticks. But seriously, this is wonderful! Who would've thought that the Shrieking Shack isn’t haunted?”

Hadrian glowered and sought his father’s help. “Father?”

James paused. “We cannot spend the day arguing, it might alert Peter. Let’s get in.”

“Yes, let’s catch a rat,’’ Henry said eagerly.

Chapter Text

James Potter’s expression was unrelenting as he addressed his sons. “You will follow behind me and Sirius. This is not up for discussion. And no Henry, your sweet smiles are not going to work on me anymore. Bones will have skinned me alive if she learns what I’m doing right now instead of reporting what I found to the DMLE as any good Auror would.” 

Henry shrugged and tried to look as unsuspecting as humanly possible. Which wasn’t working at all.

“This is a House Potter matter,” Hadrian hardened his jaw.

His eyes were hooded but James could see them blazing with barely repressed fury. “She had no right to interfere until we’re done with the traitor. We are honour-bound to seek revenge. If we were a bunch of murderers like Voldemort and his band of sycophants we would—‘’

James shook his head. “Hadrian, I know how much it pains you to see that bastard take another breath. But we cannot become the thing we abhor most.”

It gutted him to ask this of his son. However, he hadn’t understood the enormity of the burden of being the bearer of one of the most illustrious names in Magical Britain until he put the Lordship ring onto his fourth finger.

He had a legacy of generations of privilege and accomplishments and a superior pedigree to live up to and he could not let his father or his forebearers down.

He was no longer the green lad of twenty whose dearest dream was to become the best Chaser in history and bring the Quidditch World Cup home.

That James Fleamont Potter ceased to exist the day his elder son was born.

He thought he was a dutiful son, a good husband and a cool dad until Peter came and destroyed his small world.

And then he took his father’s seat in the Wizengamot and understood that he had more to offer, so much more.

He relished in having his voice heard, in protecting the weak and having the upper hand over the unworthy.

That, however, did not mean that James Potter; the most gifted trickster Hogwarts had ever seen and the founder of the Marauders wasn’t somewhere there.

As he looked into Hadrian’s eyes, he saw the anger, the loathing, the frustration. Strong and unfiltered.

The solid bond his eldest had with Fleamont was jarringly and brutally severed. Hadrian never recovered from that loss, not really.

Not that he blamed him.

One furtive glance at Henry’s taut features told him that his youngest wasn’t faring any better.

Sometimes, he regretted what his sons had to go through; what they had to sacrifice in the pursuit of eventual peace.

Because House Potter would never rest; his family would never be whole until Voldemort was vanquished for real.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and sighed. 

“Let’s go, Prongs.”

Hadrian made sure that his face remained detached; definitely not a mirror of what he was feeling because inside of his chest?

A blazing inferno was raging.

The knowledge that he was just a door away from the traitor who had cost him his grandfather was too much to take.

The worst part was that he couldn’t end his pitiful existence as he so wished.

Frustration and bitterness washed over him. Hadrian knew that his grandfather wouldn’t want him to lead a life focused solely on revenge. He wouldn’t want that for him.

But he couldn’t help it. A part of him died that night and deep in his heart, he knew that he would never taste contentment till the day Voldemort disappeared for good.

James aimed his wand at the door and it was blown into smithereens. Sirius and Remus’ wands were flicked and ready to curse the bastard to oblivion.

“Don’t move,” Sirius’ smile was feral. 

An extremely short, plump man with thin mousy hair and watery eyes raised his hands.

The similarities between his face and his Animagus form were uncanny and disturbing. He paused, taking in the rat’s features and stood straighter when Henry joined him.

Henry’s fury clashed against his body and he inhaled deeply, unable to breathe properly.

His brother was no longer the brat he liked to tease endlessly. He was on his way to become a great wizard.

Power rolled off him in waves, Potter Battle Magic; resilient and scorching hot.

The thought of Henry losing the last shreds of his innocence at such a young age made his heart bleed but he couldn’t shield him from the harshness of the world.

He would never lie to his brother.

James’ eyes said that he wanted to tear the cowering rat apart.

“Long time no seen, Wormtail.” It was the first time he heard his father use such a cold voice.

Peter Pettigrew was paralyzed to the spot, the hostile Auras of James, Sirius and Remus holding him in a tightening grip.

“Ja-James, S-Sirius! Moony,’’ he stammered.

Fear crippled him and froze every muscle of his body. Hadrian could almost see his flight responses kick in, urging him to find a way out.

“Don’t bother,” Sirius crowded him. “We set wards around the premises. There is no way out for you, rat.”

“I s-swear! Please, hear me out,” Peter shivered violently before his knees hit the ground.

He crawled towards Remus like a worm. “Moony! You’ve always been the level-headed one. Don’t let them kill me. I-I had no choice but—‘’

‘’How dare you!’’ Remus roared, his voice straining with rage. “Don’t touch me, you traitor.”

James stared down at his Ex-friend fiercely, unyieldingly. “Why did you escape and what are you doing here?”

Nothing had ever hurt Hadrian more than seeing his father struggle not to strangle the rat. His face was stone but his raging magic flaunted his helplessness. 

His need for revenge warred with the Potter honour.

Honourable, valiant James Potter would never forgive himself if he lost control and succumbed to his heart’s most ardent desire.

Hadrian turned his head slightly, meeting Henry’s cold gaze. His body was tense, his expression twisted with hatred and fury.

“Breathe,” he whispered. Henry seemed startled. He closed his eyes and nodded once.

Peter tore his gaze from Remus and James and looked at him. “Ha-Harry?”

Hadrian gripped his wand tighter, his throat clogged with a bitter taste. “Do not speak to me, rat. You better start answering Father’s questions if you want to survive the night. You don’t want me to take over and deal with you personally.”

“I-I don’t…’’ Peter gasped out, broken words filled with despair leaving his blue lips.

No words were enough to convey the extent of his sins, of his betrayal.

Hadrian exchanged a look with Sirius and understood that his Godfather let some of his magic out.

Judgmental and always ravenous for more, Peter was not equipped to deal with the Black Family Magic.

He broke Sirius’ trust thirteen years ago and as such, the Family Magic declared him an enemy and a potential danger to the actual Lord Black.

“Sirius,” James said in a clipped tone and grasped his Godfather’s shoulder tightly. ”Don’t kill him.”

“Maybe I should,’’ Sirius smiled harshly. “I can get you all the information you need from his useless brain. Just say the word.”

“No,” James’ lips twisted. “You can torture him though after he answers my questions.”

Peter predictably used the opportunity and  lunged at the door and in a fit of blinding rage; Hadrian aimed his wand at his back. ‘Laedere!’

“Hadrian!” James called but it was too late.

Peter jerked to a stop and then sank to his feet with a thud, his body twitching, a bloodcurdling scream leaving his lips.

“Harry,” Henry rasped. “Is-is this a Dark curse?”

Hadrian looked at Henry’s pale face, his eyes conveying a silent apology.

After tonight, nothing of Henry’s innocence would remain.

“Yes, it is. I found it in the Black Family Grimoire,” he explained quietly.

Hadrian was barely paying his brother any attention. He was too focused on Peter’s spasming body.

The curse Arcturus helped him master last summer caused almost as much pain as the Cruciatus.

He felt no remorse for throwing it at him. In fact, his eyes flickered with satisfaction as he watched the unfolding scene.

Peter Pettigrew deserved to be tortured.

He circled him like a Griffin hungry for his prey’s blood as he tried to push himself into a sitting position but failed.

He twirled his wand again, making him hover mid-air. “You will answer Father’s questions. Now. Why are you here? What do you want from my brother?”

Peter jerked against the invisible restraints but he was powerless.

Hadrian would hate for his mother to see him wielding Dark magic with so much expertise but it came easily to him. No matter how much she tried to integrate into their world, Lily was a Muggleborn and a very kind woman at that.

The Black Magic called to him, whispering alluring promises and he lowered his Occlumency Shields a bit. Just a little.

He’d been pushing it away for too long until it was hurting him physically to suppress and hide that part of himself.

He was a Potter, but he was a Black as well.

There was no denying the truth anymore.

Peter’s beady eyes found him. “H-Har-Harry, please. Do-don’t you remember me?”

Hadrian stepped up to him. “Unfortunately, I do. We invited you to our home. My father and his friends shielded you from your schoolmates' scorn and helped you when you were nothing but a weakling, an ungrateful pest and look how you repaid their kindness. You sold us to Voldemort.”

James moved up to him and put a hand over his tense shoulder. His father was giving him his support and he knew it.

He was also reminding him that he wasn’t alone. He was loved and accepted just the way he was.

Sirius took over. “Harry is not the toddler you remember. He can kill you without blinking an eye so you’d better answer the question.”

“I-I need….H-he sent me t-to steal Henry’s b-blood.’' Peter’s hoarse voice was heightened by the deafening silence.

Everyone seemed to freeze.

Steal Henry’s blood?

Harm his brother and cause him pain?

Scar his body again? 

Hadrian’s body hummed with the need to destroy, the need to give the rat more pain, to make the voice in his head demanding his blood stop.

James’ shoulders heaved and Sirius breathed shallowly. “By ‘he’ do you mean Voldemort?”

He glanced down at Henry’s hands. He clutched his wand in a death grip, the look in his eyes reminded Hadrian of the moment he spotted the Basilisk’s corpse in the Chamber of Secrets for the first time.

“He’ll never touch you again. Not while we’re still alive, son,” James vowed vehemently.

Henry sagged against his side and released a harsh breath. “I’m not afraid. I will confront him and end him myself.”

Hadrian wondered if anything would ever be the same for him and Henry.

A flicker of wariness flashed over Henry as he watched his brother struggle not to commit his first murder.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew what being Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black entailed.

Hadrian was Dark. Dark magic came easily to him. His magic was offensive by nature. He was a predator, a hunter.

Nevertheless, his brother didn’t need to worry. Nothing would make him respect him less. His father taught him that Magic was Might and he believed him wholeheartedly.

He wished that one day he would master House Potter's Battle Magic. His ancestors were renowned Battle Mages and wielders of Defensive Magic. Shields and spells designed to protect came naturally to them.

Hadrian’s eyes were haunted and glassy as their father and Sirius dragged Peter away after they erased all his memories of the night.

As a matter of fact, he didn’t know what spell his father threw at Peter before Hadrian released him. There was a frightening glint in his eye and he swore he heard him whisper. “For my father.”

When his gaze darted to his father’s face, something vindictive and harsh flared in his eyes. They were no longer hazel but dark brown.

Peter’s body was limp, his eyes blank, his head lolling loosely to the side.

If he didn’t know better, he would say he was already dead.

“We should leave,” Remus motioned for them to follow him. “We don’t want to alert Hogwarts staff or Merlin Forbid, Dumbledore.”

Hadrian grimaced and he couldn’t help the snort that left his lips. “It would be rather annoying to explain what Dad and Sirius are doing here with the rat.”

Remus sighed. “He would demand answers and then probably call Madam Bones. We cannot have that. She’ll throw a tantrum. That woman is a beast.”

“Will we ever have a normal school year?” He linked his arm with Hadrian knowing very well how much his brother abhorred public displays of affection. He considered them a weakness he could do without.

“I had three peaceful years until you enrolled in Hogwarts,” he gave him a mock smirk, his eyes lighter than earlier.

“Aw, I bet they were boring,” Henry’s grin widened. “You love me and you are enjoying all the trouble I’m causing. It gives you the challenge you need to test your talent and push yourself further. You love protecting me.”

“You are a brat and here I was thinking that you’re starting to behave like a proud son of House Potter,” Hadrian sniffled.

Henry sucked in a breath, trying and failing to sound wounded. “I am a proud son of House Potter. Watch me, I’ll make everyone proud of my accomplishments.”

“Aren’t you talkative for someone who learned that a Dark Lord is after his blood?” Hadrian said quietly. “You know what this means, right?”

Henry lifted his chin, his eyes hard. “He plans to come back. To have a body."

Hadrian nodded.

“But we’ll be ready for him. We’ll go back home in a week and I’ll train harder. I won’t let him catch me unprepared again. Our family will not lose another member.”

Hadrian smiled faintly and ruffled his hair knowing how much he hated that. “Get ready then. I won’t hold back anymore.”

“And I don’t want you to. Don’t treat me like a child. Don’t….underestimate me.’’

The two brothers’ eyes locked and a silent message passed between them.

Together.

Everything started thirteen years ago and together, they would end Voldemort’s reign for good.

The bastard should’ve never underestimated the determination of the Potters and….the Blacks.

Chapter Text

Hadrian had the inkling that Arcturus wanted to discuss something of utmost importance.

Something he wasn’t going to like. Much.

His mask didn’t crack in the slightest as his grandfather took a sip from his tea and amused, leaned his chin on his hand and looked at him with a glint in his sharp eyes.

He endured his scrutiny in silence.

Although the years had threaded his hair with silver and his face with wrinkles, Arcturus was unmatched when it came to coercion and manipulation. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t love him. He knew that Arcturus loved him as if he were his blood. But the old man loved his games. He loved to smooth things, to tease and poke fun and drive everyone around insane.

“You will be seventeen soon,” he drawled as he sorted the neat stack of files on his desk.

“I will,” Hadrian nodded then went still as victory flashed across his grandfather’s silver-grey eyes.

“And you’ve been taught your duties since you were five,” Arcturus leaned on his chair and made a temple of his hands as he added with a quick smile.

The words raised the hairs on the back of his neck and he felt something coil tightly around his throat.

Of course, he knew his duties. He’d been doing nothing all his life but seeing to them.

“I was,” he tried to appear unaffected by the ominous words.

Arcturus’ lips twitched, a trace of a smile in his voice. “All your duties but one.”

Alarm whistles shrilled in Hadrian’s brain.

But one duty.

Under his breath, Hadrian cursed the vagaries of fate that brought him to this moment.

Had he known why Arcturus had summoned him, he would’ve found something, anything to avoid this conversation.

He managed to quell his annoyance and looked at his grandfather calmly. Not that Arcturus was fooled in the least.

“You are the Heir to two of the oldest and most influential Ancient Houses in Magical Britain. One day, you will become the Head of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” Arcturus said pragmatically. “I’m certain you know this, but most wizards of your age and status have started sending and receiving Betrothal Contracts.”

Hadrian sighed.

Unruffled by his overt misery, Arcturus pushed. “I wanted to discuss this matter in the safety of Grimmauld Place because I know what your mother thinks of this particular tradition. She wants you to have a love match like hers and James. I do not mind as long as the bride you chose is well versed in our traditions and ready to become the pillar you shall need in the future because, Hadrian, I’m afraid that your burden is not an easy one. Too much is at stake. The fate of two families for instance. The legacy of thousands of proud witches and wizards and I know you. You are a precisian. You will settle for nothing but the very best.”

Arcturus chuckled when he frowned at last. “You look like someone led to Azkaban. Marriage is not that bad. I assure you. My Melania was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Ironic. Hadrian thought. This was a revelation considering Arcturus Sirius Black the Third was the most cynical man he had ever known. But there was no denying the truth lacing these words. The longing, the sadness…the love.

He was not surprised by the topic they were in the midst of discussing.

Most Heirs of his age had started thinking about finding their perfect match. That person who would always have their back no matter what. Who they would share everything with; their victories and their losses.

Hadrian had escorted the occasional witch to Hogsmeade. He had danced with most of the Heiresses of Magical Britain. Had exchanged pleasantries and even stole a couple of kisses in places that ranged from the most prized Opera boxes to the deserted corridors of Hogwarts. But it never went beyond that.

He was not blind. He was aware that many girls had fancied him through the years; Flora and Hestia Carrow being among them until they lost all hope in sharing anything other than friendship with him.

Unlike his peers, he dealt with girls with detachment, taking calculated risks but never giving anything of himself.

Most wizards chased the thrill of casting themselves on the mercy of Fate and gambling with their hearts.

But not him.

Too much was at risk. His family was everything and their enemies were not usual.

He could not endanger them by bringing someone he did not trust fully to his house, into their close-knit.

Arcturus studied him, tapping his chin with his finger while he waited. “I will not pressure you. Also, I will never ask you to do something just to please me and fulfil your duties. I want you to consider my words carefully and remember….life is not an ongoing fight. You can find joy and peace in the most unexpected places.”

“Thank you, Grandfather,” Hadrian nodded.

Arcturus’ opinion mattered to him greatly. And even though he said otherwise, he knew that this conversation would be the harbinger of big changes.

For instance, it was the first time he was reminded that he was to start thinking about a potential life partner.

Hadrian did not delude himself. He knew he wasn’t someone easy to keep up with. He was demanding, hard on himself and others.

He had been raised to rule and protect.

Was there a witch who could understand him? Who would share his interests and aspirations?

A witch who believed that family was everything?

On the heels of that wishful thought, he blinked when the image of Daphne Greengrass running to the hospital wing when she heard that Astoria fell ill again assaulted his mind.

Remnants of reason warred in his mind.

What in the bloody hell was he thinking?

Daphne was…

“Ah, I see,” Arcturus’ voice was uncommonly gentle which disturbed him more. “Take your time. Who knows? Maybe you will be blessed soon like I was. I have faith in you, son.”

Seeing she was not totally convinced, Astoria pouted. “Come now, I want to go! I’m fine, I swear. You cannot do this to me. You know how much I love Quidditch. Colin and Luna will be there.”

Daphne wanted to shudder. The deviousness in her sister’s eyes was at odds with her adorable pout.

She knew she was playing her again.

“I wish I was strong enough to play Quidditch. I know that Hadrian would never refuse to let a girl join the team if she is skilled enough. Unlike the previous Kings, he’s not a misogynist,” she smiled pleased with herself.

“Don’t change tactics and try to fool me,” Daphne sighed as she brushed her hair faster.

“Let me do it,” Astoria took the brush from her hands and took over the task.

“You are getting so beautiful my dear sister,” Astoria said, her voice imbued with tenderness and love as she caressed the golden locks.

“Was I hideous before?” Daphne’s icy blue eyes sparkled with fake indignation.

“Never!” Astoria grinned. “But now that you are almost fifteen, I can clearly see grandmother in you. I miss her.”

Daphne took Astoria’s hand in hers and kissed her cold palm.

Being compared to her grandmother was the highest praise.

Lady Eleanor Greengrass didn’t merely possess divine beauty. She was the strongest and most willful woman she knew. After her grandfather’s death, she was the one to run House Greengrass' vast estate until her father reached his majority.

Daphne knew she was considered among the most beautiful witches of her age. She heard the whispers and felt the curious and interested stares that followed her.

She also heard people breathe ‘Ice Queen’ when they thought she was too far to hear them.

The thing was...she didn’t care.

Beauty like money mattered little. Both were fleeting and easily spoiled. It was why she had a hard time forging connections with strangers. Trust didn’t come easily to her.

“I miss her too,” she said instead. “She was the best.”

The teasing quirk of Astoria’s lips beckoned her to stand at once and flee.

She knew that look. “Father will be receiving Betrothal Contracts soon since your birthday is upon us. Will I get a brother soon?”

Daphne froze. “I…” Her voice caught not knowing how to answer. She wasn’t interested in the least in a fiancée. She hated that tradition with passion.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the one to decide how the Elite of Magical Britain functioned. Witches were supposed to start sending and receiving Betrothal Contracts the day after they celebrated their fifteenth birthday.

It was a custom as old as their society. Her parents assured her that they would never pressure her to pick up a match.

She still had time. Time she intended to use looking for a cure for her sister.

Astoria lowered her head until their cheeks grazed. Their gazes locked in the mirror and when she spoke, she felt her breath on her neck. “I know that look. You are thinking about me. Again. How many times do I have to tell you that I am fine before you believe me?”

Daphne’s heart pounded erratically, knowing she made a huge mistake when she saw the traces of hurt in her sister’s eyes.

“It’s not just you,” she cleared her throat. “I have to find a good match first. I will not settle for less than that. I still have plenty of time to find him.”

For a moment, she thought that Astoria would argue and tell her she was stalling because she was worried.

However, the too-sweet grin she received worried her more than she would ever admit. “Why look elsewhere when you have the perfect match? I know who I want for brother.”

Tell-tale banners of bright pink ran across her high cheekbones when Astoria’s eyes glinted with mischief.

Don’t go there, she pleaded in her head, don’t you dare…

Her mind closed like a trap and her gaze shifted inadvertently to Astoria’s. She fought the urge to shake her head. 

Green eyes, mysterious eyes.

Eyes she could drown into their unfathomable depths she might never resurface. 

How many times had she trembled and looked away, severing the connection? A connection she was not sure he felt or welcomed.

Unlike what she pretended, she wasn’t unaffected by the time she spent in Hadrian Potter-Black’s company. She was thankful for everything he taught her. For taking a chance with her even though he owed her nothing at all.

She was also very aware of how coveted he was. He was undoubtedly the most eligible bachelor in Magical Britain.

Why would he look at her? 

Astoria’s lips twisted with realization. “So I wasn’t mistaken but then, I know you more than you know yourself.”

“Astoria, drop it. You’ve been imagining things.” A scowl appeared on her brow.

“Really?’’ Astoria waved her words aside. “We shall see about that.”

Stunned by her sister’s audacity she rolled her eyes before she stared blankly at her reflection.

A couple of schoolmates nodded happily as he passed by.

Henry’s grin widened. “This is perfect. I’ve been waiting for this day since they announced that Magical Britain would hold the World Cup this year.”

“Aren’t you a bit over excited?” Hermione huffed.

Ran gasped. “’Mione! We’ll attend the finals! Ireland will play Bulgaria! Don’t you possess any sense of—‘’

‘’Not you too, Ron,’’ Hermione lifted her arms in surrender. “Yes, I am happy because we’re spending time together and having fun but I don’t care much about Quidditch. I find the game rather dangerous and life-threatening.”

Henry snorted. “Only you, Hermione.”

Neville cleared his throat. “I believe she’s been addressing your misadventures in the Quidditch pitch, Henry.”

Henry shrugged. “I was never in danger, not really. Hadrian was there and so was Dumbledore, the rest of the professors and my family. Nothing would’ve happened to me anyway.”

Henry turned back and shuddered when his mother shot him a murderous glare. “Come on, Mum. I’m fine, I swear.”

Lily’s face darkened with frustration. “I don’t know. You seem to be enjoying gambling with your life. Maybe I should add more to your schedule, you see, we never know when you’ll need to defend yourself. Again.”

Henry paled. “Please, don’t! I’ve been doing homework and practising with Hadrian for two months. I’m not sure my body can take more. I might crumble before the new year starts. How would I defend myself then?”

“He has a point,” Sirius snorted.

“Where’s Hadrian?” James asked, looking around.

“He’s looking for Cassius, Adrian and Marcus. They’ll join us later,” Henry gave an indulgent smile as he explained ever so eager to change the topic.

He wasn’t jesting.

He spent the previous weeks working ardently with Hadrian; training, learning more curses and protective shields and going over the journals of Lord Hardwin Potter the First.

He could feel the change in his body and in his magic. He was no longer lean; his muscles had developed rather splendidly. 

His thoughts turned back to the night they caught Peter Pettigrew.

Voldemort was after his blood and if he knew anything about the bastard, he knew that he wouldn’t give up.

Even though he still wore his devil-may-care attitude—it was part of his Potter charm, Henry was no longer the sweet child of thirteen.

He was fourteen. He knew better than to believe that wars could be won with kids’ Charms, he was ready at all times.

The weight of his wand strapped to the arm holster comforted him and so did the two poisoned daggers strapped to his calves.

He would take no chances. Vigilance at all times was paramount.

But first, he intended to join the Quidditch World Cup finals.

What could happen anyway?

Chapter Text

‘’You can hardly predict who’s going to win,‘’ Cassius said, adapting an expression of exasperation.

Marcus expectedly glared at him. His hard face didn’t conceal his mulish disposition. “Are you cheering for Bulgaria?”

Adrian snorted. “Please, why would I do something so horrendous?”

Hadrian sighed. “Marcus, we are here to watch the finals. Please, no theatrics.”

Marcus grumbled something intelligible and glowered menacingly at the two girls who were eyeing them.

“Are you going to look like this all day?” Adrian tsked. “That’s a pity because I intend to rejoice in every moment of these holidays. We’ll be back to school soon,” he faked a shudder. “And then, we’ll have our NEWTS and graduate.”

“Aren’t you keen to start your Ancient Runes Mastery?” Cassius cocked a brow up.

“I am,” Adrian smirked at the two girls and they blushed. “But then, I won’t find such good company in tombs and ancient cities.”

“You are incorrigible,” Hadrian muttered. “I pity the girl who will fall for your charms.”

Adrian’s grin didn’t dim as they headed toward the stadium. 

Hadrian’s gaze swerved to Lucius Malfoy’s haughty countenance. Narcissa nodded at him and he returned the swift gesture.

“Hadrian,” Draco bowed. He was followed by Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott. Hadrian’s eyes zeroed on the latter. He looked weary. There were dark circles under his eyes. His countenance was as impassive as ever.

Hadrian had asked Draco to invite him to Malfoy Manor this summer and try to get him away from his father without drawing much-unwanted attention.

He knew he had to somehow find a way to protect the younger Slytherin.

He smiled when Henry and his friends joined them. “We’ve been waiting for you,” he said. “Dad, Mum, Sirius and Remus are already inside.”

“We had some catching up to do,” Hadrian exchanged a meaningful glance with Draco who looked uncomfortable. The life of a spy didn’t seem to settle well with him. “Come, let’s take our seats before the match starts.”

Together, they filtered through the huge doors and kept climbing the richly carpeted stairs until they reached their prime seats at the top box.

Adrian whistled. “That’s a view.”

Hadrian looked around to see who else was sharing the top box with them. Lord Finley Pucey and his wife; Lady Sella Selwyn Pucey were seated next to Lord Arkeus Warrington and Lady Eloise Carrow Warrington. In the second row, Lord Darius Flint looked on the verge of bursting as he listened to whatever Lucius Malfoy was saying. His wife; Lady Isabella ignored them while she chattered with Lady Caitlin Rosier Montague and her husband, Lord Everett Montague.

Hadrian’s eyes narrowed on the pale, malnourished elf sitting in the last row. It was uncommon for a house elf to be on their own without their Masters nearby and knowing all the other occupants of the top box, he wondered to whom the elf belonged.

She looked highly strung and Hadrian was given pause by a prickle of foreboding that ran down his back.

His thoughts were however quelled when his father motioned for him to take his seat.

Returning his attention to his family, he watched in silence as Fudge escorted the Bulgarian Minister of Magic and introduced him to Malfoy. A greedy look came over his eyes when he glimpsed Henry.

“Henry Potter!” he bellowed. “What a pleasure, young man.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, Minister,” Henry replied stiffly taking Fudge’s offered hand.

Sirius snorted while James’ expression was so far different from what restrained joy he’d exhibited earlier.

Hadrian knew how much their father abhorred all the attention directed towards their family. 

“I hope you’ve been doing well, Minister,” James pushed Henry back and partially shielded him with his tall, muscular frame.

“I’ve been doing splendidly, Lord Potter,” Fudge took James’ hand. Then to Minster Oblansk, he explained. “This is Henry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. I believe you’ve heard about our Saviour.”

The Minister’s dark eyes zeroed on Henry’s scar which was in full display and started gabbling loudly.

Henry sighed wearily and met his gaze with a resigned gaze. He plastered a fake smile on his face and nodded as he listened to whatever the Bulgarian Minster was spewing.

Fudge’s gaze inadvertently went to him. “And who’s this fine young man? Oh, Hadrian! Look at you!”

Hadrian wished that he had postponed joining his family for a little bit. He stood gracefully with his legs shoulder width apart and his hands lazily by his sides, a display of power and all the vexation he presently felt. Controlling the annoyance that coursed in his blood at the sight of the most inept Minister for Magic Magical Britain had known for decades. He was failing dreadfully at assuming the rigorous and taxing duties he was trusted with.

He didn’t lower his head as he corrected the older man. “It is Heir Potter-Black now, Minister,” he drawled. “And as it happens, I am seventeen, soon to join the Wizengamot Chambers.”

His smile was all teeth but Fudge didn’t seem to take the hint. Henry’s shoulders shook with mirth and Sirius threw him a mischievous wink.

“Jolly good, jolly good,” Fudge cleared his throat. “What fine sons you have, Lord Potter. I congratulate you.”

“Thank you, Minister,” James said coolly.

Soon after, the tense exchange was cut by Bagman’s booming voice.

“Look! That’s Viktor Krum!” Ron gasped and everyone burst out laughing.

--

“I have a bad feeling about tonight,” Hadrian gazed at the fire. “Draco reported that his father kept disappearing at the oddest hours doing Merlin knows what.”

The firm pressure of Sirius’ hand on his arm kept him grounded. “I feel the same.”

James sighed. “Bertha Jokins’ disappearance shouldn’t have been treated so lightly. She’s been missing for over a month.”

“But I heard she got lost on many other occasions,” Remus supplied.

“And she had always returned,” James said tersely. 

“The Ministry doesn’t care about its employee’s wellbeing. I’m grateful I didn’t join any department,” Lily scoffed.

Sirius’ eyes went to the room shared by Ron, Neville and Henry. “How’s Henry doing? Did you notice something strange? Had his scar acted out?”

Hadrian’s spine became blade-straight. “What do you mean?”

“You know very well what I mean. You still remember Henry’s first year and Quirrell, right? I cannot help but notice the odd connection between his scar and Voldemort.”

“Is Aunt Cassiopeia back from her trip?” he asked instead.

“No,” Sirius growled. “She left abruptly to Merlin Knows where. Grandfather believes she found a lead. We cannot be certain until she confirms it.”

Hadrian’s shoulders sagged. He would never betray his brother’s trust. His wrath detonated as he remembered how Henry had barged into his room three nights ago.

His expressive hazel eyes were wide with fear, his limbs shaking and his face bone-white. Both knew that what he saw wasn’t a mere nightmare. It was too vivid, too real to be as simple as that.

“I had a nightmare.”

Everyone whirled around as Henry joined them. No matter how much he tried to hide it, he looked weary and apprehensive.

“Henry…” Lily jumped to her feet and took him into her arms. It amazed Hadrian that his little brother was now a head taller than their mother.

“Son,” James surged to his feet with enough force to upend the chair upon which he’d been sitting. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You know you can tell us everything, Pup,” Sirius’ smile was forced. “We’re here for you.”

“I know,” Henry returned Lily’s hug and kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t want to worry you needlessly and I had some sorting out to do. I told Harry.”

Silence fell upon them. Everyone understood that the revelation was dire enough to propel this promise of danger.

“It was him,” Henry started in a steady voice. “A wizard who was wearing a hood was with him but I didn’t get to see his face and then, there was a huge snake; a Burmese Python I think. It-it swallowed a Muggle who was trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.”

Lily gasped, her beautiful eyes swirling with worry. Henry shrugged.

Without thinking, Hadrian reached for his brother, clasped his upper arm decisively and let his magic infuse the bond. A myriad of emotions rushed through him at once. Fear, disgust, annoyance but most importantly; resolution.

Henry knew that Voldemort was up to something. He needed his blood and he wouldn’t give up so easily.

Henry’s smile was wan. “He ordered the other wizard to be ready. He…he was foretelling him that soon, he will have me and then, no one will be able to stop him anymore.”

“He’s delusional if he believes in this nonsense,” Remus went on relentlessly his voice thick with emotion. He looked intently at Henry’s pale face. “You vanquished him when you were one. You are much stronger now. You have nothing to fear.”

After a moment, Hadrian’s hand on his upper arm relaxed. “You are stronger than what you believe. More importantly, together we are invincible.”

All tension left Henry’s shoulders. “Are you perchance admitting that I don’t need more training this summer?”

Hadrian cocked a brow up. “There is no such thing as enough training. I’m just getting started with you.”

Henry groaned and opened his mouth to retort. However, he froze the moment screams and shouts erupted from the camp.

Flashes of light illuminated the sky and the air became thick with the smell of sulfur.

Vile, forbidden magic.

Lily rushed to Hermione’s room while Henry called for his friends. 

“Let’s split up,” Sirius’ face darkened. 

James nodded grimly. Swiftly, he flicked his wand and Prongs erupted from the tip. “Amelia, we are under attack. We need backup.”

Prongs galloped immediately across the woods until it disappeared.

“Remus and Lily take the kids. Sirius, you go with Hadrian,” James ordered.

“No,” Hadrian gripped his wand. “I’m not leaving your side, Father. We don’t know what awaits you out there.”

“I’m not abandoning you, too,” Henry said heatedly.

“Enough!” James bellowed. “Listen to me, we are under attack. Lily, please take the kids.”

When Henry refused to move, James’ eyes softened. “Son, please. Let me do my job. I cannot worry about you in the middle of a fight.” 

“Henry, let’s go,” Hermione dragged her friend away and begrudgingly, he followed after Remus.

Hadrian averted his gaze when his mother closed the gap of space between her and his father and claimed his mouth in a savage kiss. “Come back to me.”

“Always,” James whispered then pushed her towards the woods.

His steady gaze bore into his mother’s back until she disappeared from view then his features contorted with rage. “We have some bastards to hunt.'' He seethed.

--

Hadrian felt the hammering of his quickening heartbeat as he subdued another Death Eater, flipping him upside down. His skull crashed against the ground making a sickening noise.

His brows furrowed when a small child spun fifty feet above the ground and his head lolled limply.

Without a second thought, he rushed towards the masked wizard jeering and mocking the helpless child.

“Laedere,” he hissed uncaring when a diagonal gush bisected the man’s back. He dropped to the ground without a sound.

Hadrian levelled his wand at the unconscious child. “Finite Incantatem.” As soon as he countered the spell, he whispered. “Wingardium Leviosa.” The child floated gently towards his waiting arms.

“Louis…Mon fils!” A blonde, distressed woman snatched the kid from him. 

“Il est juste inconscient. Vous n’avez rien à craindre ,” he soothed gently, trying to assuage the anguished mother’s fears.

“Merci,” she choked in her tears. “Merci beaucoup.”

Hadrian nodded and urged her to fellow what looked like the remaining members of her family.

Hadrian looked at the dead man scathingly. 

“They are disgusting,” Sirius raged, breathing heavily.

“They need to be put down like dogs,” he said coldly.

He turned his head only marginally and a feral smile twisted his lips when he spotted three oncoming masked wizards.

He straightened his shoulders and turned fully to face them. Sirius rushed towards him and soon, they were joined by Cassius and his father.

It didn’t take long for them to dispose of the lowlifes.

“Madam Bones won’t be pleased,” Lord Arkeus Warrington cleared his throat.

“I’m certain that the Aurors will spare a couple of them for interrogation,” Sirius shrugged.

Hadrian’s chest heaved up and down as he looked around. The camp was utterly dilapidated. People were sprinting away towards the woods seeking shelter.

Aurors were everywhere, dashing from every direction towards the masked men. He recognized his father amid a heated argument with Madam Bones.

“It seems Prongs is in trouble,” Sirius said.

“They don’t see eye to eye to how to deal with Voldemort’s followers. Father believes they don’t deserve a second chance. He considers Azkaban a mercy they’re unworthy of,” Hadrian explained.

“I share Lord Potter’s feelings,” Lord Warrington's stormy eyes were haunted. Cassius had told him most of his family’s history. The Warringtons lost so much during the First Wizarding War. None of them believed that Voldemort’s sycophants had a right to mercy.

Only death could wash their sins.

Hadrian was about to join his father when he heard a bloodcurdling scream.

His heart galloped out of control when he recognized the voice. “Astoria?”

Daphne found Astoria sitting next to the fire, nursing a mug of hot chocolate. She pulled a shawl around her shoulders and joined her.

Astoria paused with her mug halfway to her lips and smiled gratefully. “You’re always taking care of me.”

“You are my sister,” Daphne shrugged.

Astoria rolled her eyes and took a sip then sighed in delight. “Are our parents asleep?”

Daphne smirked. “Father is snoring. I cannot believe all the excitement he showed today. I didn’t know he loved Quidditch this much.”

“You cannot deny that the way Krum manoeuvred his broom was dreamy,” she fluttered her eyelashes. “I wish I could fly like him.”

“You can,” she stressed out. “All you need is to regain your health then get intensive training.”

Astoria shook her head. Daphne knew what went inside her head even without Legilimency.

Astoria firmly believed that chances were she could not be saved. More likely that she was irreversibly tainted and tarnished by the Greengrass Blood Curse.

“You have no idea how trying it is to live every day fearing it could be your last. How exasperating it is to see the despair in your eyes,” Astoria’s smile was sad. “I’ve accepted my fate years ago and I have no regrets. Please, don’t be unduly hard on yourself. This is all I ask of you, Daphne.”

Daphne had always believed that strong empathy would be a hindrance in their world. Her heart squeezed with pain when she was reminded that her sister was an Empath. There was nothing she could hide from her. Nothing related to how she felt.

Stunned by this unbelievably cruel hatchet of fate, she stared at the sister she loved more than life itself. “I can’t. You can ask anything, everything from me. Anything but this. I can’t lie to you.”

Astoria pursed her lips then….Daphne stilled.

Every instinct she possessed told her to run. She got an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach

She spotted the swirls of green light in the distance heralding the coming of several men. She gulped down her fright and dragged her sister behind her when many trees were blown to smithereens.

In a blink, the idyllic camp became a pandemonium. Cries and screams filled the air and she breathed the heavy smell of sulfur.

Of vile, forbidden magic.

“Daphne, Astoria!” Lord Cyrill Greengrass rushed out of the tent, followed by their mother; Cynthia Rosier Greengrass.

“Father,” Astoria’s voice was shaking. “W-what’s going on? Are we in danger?”

“Take the girls away, Cynthia!” Cyrill urged his wife. “We don’t have time to find out. Run!”

As soon as he uttered the last word, they were surrounded by three masked men.

“Lord Greengrass,” the tallest of them drawled, twirling his wand between his gloved fingers menacingly. “I heard you refused My Lord’s invitation to join his elite during the previous war. I’m certain My Lord had better uses of your resources.”

“Leave my family out of this,” Cyrill spat at the tall figure. “They’re innocent.”

“Your family,” the man repeated. “Their sins are the same. They carry your blood.”

Cyrill lurched forward and threw a Severing Curse at the masked man.

He appeared mildly startled. Unfortunately, one of his companions conjured a wall of marble.

“Take Astoria and go,” Cynthia whispered in her ear. “I can’t leave your father alone. He needs me.”

Daphne’s vigilant mask didn’t crack in the slightest. However, her heart had begun to pound fast and hard, resonating high in her throat when she understood the severe look her mother gave her.

She was ordering her to abandon them without looking back. 

No matter what happened, Astoria had to be taken to safety.

Astoria’s slim hand crept to her, their fingers weaving together. She looked down at their joined hands and stroked her thumb across her wrist.

The moment her mother launched an attack, she dragged her sister away. Her feet hurt, her hair was a mess, and sweat ran down her face but she didn’t care.

She didn’t pause to look around. Didn’t pause when she heard screams and shouts and whimpers.

All that mattered was saving Astoria. Her well-being would always take precedence over hers.

She felt a surge of terror when two masked men blocked their way.

“What do we have here?” one of them leered at her. “The Greengrass beauty.”

Daphne had never succumbed to hysterics but her mask was almost peeled off when the second man gripped Astoria’s arm harshly and dragged her kicking and screaming away. Astoria didn’t mind one bit hissing at him what she thought of his character and what she intended to do to some body parts of his.

“What do you want?” she said coldly.

His next words rendered her speechless, her fright reaching new and ridiculous heights. “I like the defiant look in your eyes,” his voice was dripping with malice. “Oddly, I am in a good mood tonight. I want to play.”

Stealthily, she flicked her wand and threw the first curse. For one brief and glorious moment, she watched as the man hissed in pain.

Any hope she had was squashed when the second man put the tip of his wand to Astoria’s throat.

She lowered her wand, albeit unwillingly, pertly seething with her helplessness. She could not lose Astoria.

There had to be another way.

Astoria screamed when the man twisted her arms behind her back and then pushed her down. Her assaulter crossed his arms over his chest, awaiting her acquiescence.

“What do you want?” she said through gritted teeth.

“Kneel like the—‘’

She was stunned, her mouth trembling, and her hand flopped over her middle when a huge Griffin made of fire screeched loudly then lunged chopping the wizard’s head off.

Fiendfyre….

Daphne shook her head and stared at the newcomer's chest. She might be dreaming, so foggy was her sight. 

The reality of the situation crashed into her and she felt she could look at it now, the whole of it, what was happening. What could have happened. 

But...Someone had come for them. It was neither her father nor any of her family’s friends. Her heart sped again, her eyes pooled with tears. Raising her head, she met his piercing eyes.

“Hadrian?”

She found herself caught in his green eyes, mesmerized by the glitter of silver striations in them.

It didn’t take long for Lord Black to eliminate the second man. He hugged Astoria tenderly. The sight brought fresh tears to her eyes.

“Are you alright, Miss Greengrass?” Lord Black asked.

Her throat closed up when she looked at her sister. “Astoria?”

She thought for sure she was about to cry, and she wouldn’t have held that against her. But then, while she stared at her sister, she began to laugh. It was at first only a bark of incredulity until it grew, and she became almost hysterical, shaking and giggling so thoroughly that her eyes watered, and she covered her mouth with a hand. “Sweet Salazar, they so deserved it. I wish you’d prolonged their suffering a bit more, Hadrian.”

Daphne’s breath escaped her with her relief, peeved by so absurd a situation. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Why would you apologize?” Hadrian asked softly. “She seems in shock. She had an upsetting trial. It’s a wonder she regained her spirits so quickly.”

Daphne bit her lower lip and nodded. Her throat closed up. It was a highly inappropriate time for her to show weakness.

“Where is Cyrill?” Lord Black asked.

She paled at once. “We were attacked. He's fighting the assaulters with Mother.”

Before she could elaborate, Lord Black let go of Astoria. “Hadrian, you lead the girls to safety. I’ll go and have a look.”

They exchanged a meaningful glance then, the older man apparated away.

“You came to our rescue, thank you,” she cleared her throat.

“Hadrian loves us,” Astoria chirped happily. “He also happens to be a gentleman and very skilled with a wand.”

Daphne felt the two banners of red darkening her cheeks. She wanted to slink to the ground and disappear into the soil. For some reason, the sight of the ferocious glare she threw at her sister elicited a twitch of amusement at the corners of Hadrian’s lips. Subtle as the twitch was, Daphne saw it, and she was instantly thrown from mortification to bemusement. Astoria’s sharp eyes volleyed between them.

The small exchange warmed her a lot more than she wanted to. There was something about Hadrian Potter-Black that was way too delectable.

“Let me escort you back.” Hadrian offered his arm and Astoria's grin widened. After a slight hesitation, she took it, linking their arms together.

At that moment, she realized that she’d been happy in a subdued, restricted sort of way before she met him. 

She realized that whenever she was in his presence, her heart felt like it had shrivelled to a dried husk rattling around in her chest.

What was happening to her?

Chapter Text

Mind still whirring with what had occurred that thrice-cursed night, Hadrian started up the hill leading to his family’s tent frowning slightly as he attempted to identify the man talking to his mother.

Daphne’s grip was as sure and tight as was his. Her hand was soft and warm, her skin almost ridiculously soft.

Surprisingly, he did not dislike it at all, the way her hand was wrapped in his.

What he did mind, however, was the look in Astoria’s eyes. He liked the younger girl, truly. There was something charming and utterly refreshing about her. Despite her dishevelled appearance and the harrowing ordeal she went through, she looked unscathed.

Every instinct he possessed told him there was something wrong with Astoria. However, she was too clever for his piece of mind. Every time he had tried to get something out of her, she had smoothly evaded the topic. 

What the little firecracker did not understand was that he had years on her when it came to coercion and gathering information.

Shaking his head, he gestured toward the tent. The embers had nearly died and in the descending gloom, everyone seemed tense.

Hadrian’s brows furrowed when he recognized Lord Diggory. He was the man his mother and Henry were arguing with.

“Are you out of your mind?” Lily’s scowl was quite frightening. “Do you know who my son is? How could you accuse him of such a despicable act?”

Remus’ eyes were glowing bright gold which meant his wolf was so close to taking over. “I’m not sure I understood your implication right but are you by chance accusing Henry Potter of all people of casting the Dark Mark?”

“Well—‘’ Lord Amos Diggory had the decency to look a little sheepish. “I didn’t mean to—“

“What?” Lily clearly had no intention of letting the matter drop so easily. “I was there and so was Remus. The kids did nothing wrong other than follow our instructions while we made sure they were safe and far away from the terrorists you so obviously failed at containing in time.”

“B-but everyone saw the Dark Mark,” Lord Diggory complained pitifully.

“I don’t need the reminder,’’ Lily took an angry step forward. “I was there when they cast the Dark Mark and do you know what? They did the same the night Lord Fleamont Potter was mercilessly murdered so, I don’t need the reminder. I know that mark by heart.”

Before Lord Diggory could utter another word, Henry slipped an arm around Lily’s shoulder; strong and sure, and pulled her close. “You know we did nothing wrong. I don’t know who did it. We were as startled as everyone else.”

“And so,” Hadrian let go of Daphne’s arm and faced the obnoxious Head of the Department for Regulation and Control for Magical Creatures. “If you have no more unwarranted speculations to throw carelessly, I suggest you take your leave, Lord Diggory. My family does not take lightly to being held responsible for such flagrantly wicked deeds. I hope you know what you are doing. We, Potters, take matters pertaining our honour very seriously.”

Hadrian knew that the level of animosity he exhibited was unexpected but he was past caring.

Dark times were looming on the horizon and instead of taking the appropriate measures to stop a possible war, the Ministry of Magic and its inept officials were trying to place the blame on the wrong party.

With a stiff nod, Lord Diggory took his leave.

Astoria let out a puff of air. “Good riddance. What an unpleasant man.”

“Astoria,” Daphne hissed sounding a little embarrassed.

“What?” Astoria bit off stubbornly. “You heard what he said. I cannot believe he’s Heir Diggory’s father.”

Lily tipped her head a bit studying the lively girl. “I believe we’ve met before. Aren’t you Lady Cynthia Greengrass’ daughters?”

Daphne curtsied and offered a tentative smile. “Merry Meet, Lady Potter. Hadrian had kindly helped us escape from a disagreeable situation.”

Astoria followed suit, her mischievous smile still firmly in place. “Merry Meet, Lady Potter. I apologize for my lack of manners. I am Astoria and this is my sister, Daphne.”

Lily’s lips curved in a tired grin. “Merry Meet, Heiress Greengrass, Miss Greengrass. Please call me Lily or Mrs Potter.”

The girls looked equal parts surprised and pleased. It was uncommon for Ladies of his mother’s social standing to offer familiarity so lightly.

Lily Evans Potter, though, was first and foremost a Muggleborn. Despite the years she spent in Magical Britain, she took pride in her origins and found it galling when Wixen her sons’ age called her ‘Lady’.

Daphne was about to say something but her eyes widened then filled with tears the moment Sirius emerged from the tent followed by Lord and Lady Greengrass.

“Father!” Astoria threw herself at the seemingly worn-out man.

“Easy, Astoria,” Lady Greengrass chided lightly. “We’re still tending to your father’s injuries.”

“I’m sorry,” Astoria gasped out. “I’m terribly sorry, Father. Are you alright? Is the injury severe?"

“It’s not life-threatening. I cannot say the same for the bastards who attacked us,” Lord Greengrass grumbled and lowered his head to kiss Astoria’s forehead.

“Are you quite certain you’re all right, Father?” Daphne said quietly, motioning toward the skin above Cyrill’s right eye which was a little red.

“The skin is scratched a bit but not broken,” Sirius offered. “It’s a minor injury, nothing a good potion cannot take care of.”

Daphne’s shoulders relaxed. She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed her father’s bruised cheek. “Thank Merlin. I was so worried.”

Cyrill caught her by the shoulder before she could pull away. ‘’Thank you for seeing to your sister’s safety.”

Something Hadrian couldn’t decipher passed between father and daughter; a silent message.

Daphne’s smile wavered and her eyes went to him. “It’s thanks to Hadrian that we are unhurt. We stumbled upon some…appalling men and he helped us.”

“Hadrian?” Lady Greengrass cocked a blond brow up.

“Well, Hadrian is our friend,” Astoria’s voice took a note of amusement. “He asked us to forgo Titles.”

Daphne blushed a little and nodded tentatively.

“Thank you, Heir Potter-Black. House Greengrass owes you,” Lord Greengrass put a hand over his heart.

“No need for that, Lord Greengrass,” Hadrian said. “I did nothing.”

“Oh, but you did a lot!” Astoria chirped. “I wish you were there, Father. You would’ve seen the splendid way he used to neutralize the bas—“ When Daphne cleared her throat, Astoria fluttered her eyelashes and added primly. “I mean the bad men.”

“Then I must insist you go with us home after this unfortunate trial. I have the right potion to help Lord Greengrass,” Lily said skillfully, eyeing him slowly in a most disturbing way.

“What’s going on?” Henry whispered.

Hadrian sighed. “I’m afraid, I don’t want to know.”

"This must be a first,” the brat snickered. 

Unsure if his brother was mocking him, Hadrian looked at Astoria and then at Daphne. Astoria’s cry of distress made anger roll fresh under his skin. Despite the moment of comfort and distraction his mother was offering, what the two girls went through could not be appeased lightly.

He didn’t need Legilimency to understand what the man holding Daphne at wand’s point intended to do.

No matter how much he tried to deny it, he was a healthy young wizard with perfect sight.

Daphne Greengrass was a very attractive witch. Beauty was all and good but most importantly, he respected how strong-willed and committed she was. She relentlessly pursued what she believed in without uttering a single complaint; something that couldn’t be said for most witches of her age and high standing.

It was also marvellous and heartwarming seeing her look after her sister. 

“Hadrian?” He felt Sirius’ fingers dig into his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” he said with a careless tilt of his head. “I’ve been thinking.”

“I’ve noticed,” his godfather smirked. “James sent a Patronus. He will likely spend the night in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We have to leave.”

“Of course,” he nodded. His eyes went inadvertently to Daphne as she exchanged a small talk with his mother and Hermione and the faintest of blushes bloomed on her cheeks when she noticed his scrutiny.

What in the blazes was going on?

Hadrian leaned closer and watched the flickering light cast ominous shadows across the ancient scroll Cassiopeia brought from her latest escapade.

He was patiently waiting for a comment from Arcturus but nothing came. His eyes remained hard, his breath deep and steady as he looked at the ceiling.

“Grandfather…What’s the matter?” 

Slowly, Arcturus’ gaze dipped to the scroll and stayed there. “I’m afraid, I have some disturbing news.”

A pang of dread settled on Hadrian’s chest when Cassiopeia retrieved Tom Riddle's diary from her pocket. 

“You’ve been looking for an answer,” he said.

“I was,” she lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “I’ve been intrigued by the ancient, forbidden magic the diary oozed and then I met your brother. His scar is a very curious one."

Hadrian tried to pretend he wasn’t fazed at all by Cassiopeia’s words. “And? Did you find something?”

She nodded grimly and he felt the last spark of hope dim. 

“I hate to be the carrier of bad news but it’s been happening lately. A lot.” She offered conversationally. “I had my suspicions from the moment I heard that your brother survived a Killing Curse and knew I ought to start searching for the answer. Unfortunately, I got temporarily sidetracked by other important issues that called for my immediate attention and if not for Arcturus’ summons and reminder….” Her words trailed off.

“I wouldn’t use the word ‘temporarily’ were I you,” Arcturus exhaled. “But you are not to blame. Everyone was grateful that Henry and Hadrian survived the ordeal. I was still grieving my Melania. James and Sirius were too young and inexperienced to understand what happened that night.”

“However, you have something for us, Aunt Cassiopeia.” It was a statement. It took all of Hadrian’s courage and determination to meet his great-aunt’s piercing silver eyes.

“I do now, Hadrian,” she acknowledged. 

There was an impatient knock on the door before it was opened without an apology for the interruption.

Only one man could do that and survive Arcturus’ wrath.

“What’s going on here?” Sirius’ gaze shot to the diary briefly before it settled on his aunt. 

“Sirius,” Arcturus said tersely. “Take a seat and try to remember your manners next time you barge in uninvited.”

“In my defence, you are discussing Henry’s welfare,” he bit out. “I don’t need an invitation. Do you know what James and Lily are going through after last week’s events? The fight had barely taken off the edge of their fear and worry. We need to start moving before it’s too late.”

“You are speaking for yourself, I presume,” Arcturus rolled his eyes. “What do you think we’ve been doing all these years; gathering allies, implanting spies in the Ministry and looking for any sign of Voldemort? We knew we were not done with the bastard. I thought you could handle the truth with a level head. But I fear you are every inch as gullible and impatient as you were the day you left Grimmauld Place in the heat of the moment. Hadrian needs you. James needs you. Henry needs you. I am no longer the duellist I used to be. They need your power and your skill but most importantly, they need you to reign on your emotions.”

Sirius blinked rapidly. “Merlin’s Mercy, you are blunt and heartless.”

“Why, thank you for the compliment,” Arcturus relaxed in his chair. His lips curved in a mocking half-smile.

“Rest assured I have no intention of acting recklessly. That will never happen again for a myriad of reasons, some of which I have no time or intention to share with you,” Sirius’ gaze went to his aunt. “So, would you kindly take us out of our misery and share whatever the hell you found with the rest of us?”

“Your words warrant censure, my dearest,” Cassiopeia glided toward the chair facing Arcturus and sat languidly. “However, if the ambush is any indication, we are already running out of time.”

“How so?” Hadrian cut in, his patience nearing an end.

“The ritual Tom Marvolo Riddle performed fifty-two years ago is an obscure, forbidden one. It was first created by a Dark wizard from Greece called Herpo the Foul. Surprisingly, he was the first to hatch a Basilisk and speak Parseltongue as well. I suppose he is a distant relative of the Gaunts.” Cassiopeia threw her shoulders back and spoke with great pride. “His script; where he wrote the wording of the ritual was believed lost for centuries. It explains why it took me months to find it. All that remained was an incomplete, imperfect version some fouls stole in a hurry from the original script. Herpo hesitated before completing the ritual. He came to his senses before it was too late and understood that the price was too exorbitant to pay. Tom Riddle, however, didn’t. In his arrogance, he thought he’d become unbreakable. Probably because he was merely an ignorant sixteen-year-old craving something he should never pursue to begin with.”

“Immortality,” Hadrian’s brows dipped as he glared at the script.

Cassiopeia nodded. “And he’s paying the consequences. The foul had defied Death and butchered his soul. He forgot he was but a man, a gifted wizard to be sure, but no match for Death.”

“How many?” Sirius’ lips pressed together in a fine line. 

“I suspect he used a magical number so it’s either seven or thirteen,” Cassiopeia tilted her head to the side. “Considering that he did not foresee what occurred in Potter Manor thirteen years ago…”

“That Horcrux was unexpected,” Hadrian took several minutes of rage-induced sputtering to sort the words out. His blood went from boiling to ice cold in the space of a heartbeat and he closed his eyes as the furniture started shaking.

“This cannot be!” Sirius spat and jumped to his feet, his eyes almost inhumanly blazing silver fire. “There must be another explanation. That lunatic could not do this to Henry!”

Hadrian didn’t even bother comfort his grandfather. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over. It made little difference if it took Sirius some time to come to terms with the staggering truth.

“What do we do now?” he asked instead.

Naturally, Arcturus still had quite a bit to say on the matter. “After—or more accurately, if—my grandson calms down before the Black Madness claims him, we shall find a way to tell your parents.” Hadrian nodded. “Then, we will start looking for the rest of the Horcruxes without alerting Dumbledore or Voldemort’s followers. This matter concerns our Houses. Exclusively.”

“And we take care of our own,” Hadrian exhaled.

“Worry not, young Hadrian,” Cassiopeia said with no trace of emotion on her face. “We will save your brother.”

Despite the reassurance, Hadrian looked away. 

How he wished he could curl into a ball and ease the ache inside his chest.

How he wished he could blow Grimmauld Place to smithereens.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could take this pain away.

He would not rest until Voldemort paid justly for the crimes he committed against his family.

Chapter Text

Henry winced. His head still ached terribly from the remnants of last night’s nightmare.

He had come awake with a scream lodged in his throat. Thankfully, he regained his senses before he made a sound and alerted his parents or worse yet, Harry.

He looked through the window at the brightening sky, his mouth twisting with bitterness. There was a sense of doom in the air, he could almost taste it. Dread burned in his throat as he remembered his parents’ faces after their last visit to Grimmauld Place.

Something happened that night; something his family was not ready to share with him yet.

The newfound knowledge bothered him but Henry trusted his family. He wasn’t planning on throwing a tantrum or gnashing his teeth in frustration like a toddler to blackmail them into spilling whatever they were hiding.

Because he knew they would tell him. Eventually.

Ron sighed in frustration. “Charlie is dreadfully prone to evasiveness. I’ve never seen someone as secretive as him.”

Hermione watched him with narrowed eyes as she mulled over his words. “Maybe it doesn’t concern us and he was just teasing you.”

Ron threw his hands up. “You don’t know that heartless prat as much as I do. I used every ploy possible to gain tidbits of whatever he's hiding. He wouldn't budge.”

Henry leaned in his seat and gave him a smug grin. “He knows you well. You can never stand a mystery being unsolved. Patience is a virtue, mate.”

A smile split Neville’s face. “Maybe he enjoys seeing you embarrass yourself.”

Ron glared at them. “And you would know because…” A second later, understanding seemed to dawn on him. “You insufferable prats! You know!”

Henry shrugged, a smirk twisting his lips. “Maybe, right Nev?”

Neville looked sheepishly at their frustrated friend, holding his hands up apologetically. “Grandma made me give her my word to keep this to myself. It’s classified information. The news will be released to the public tonight.”

Ron’s red cheeks puffed up to the point Henry thought he might burst. “You bloody traitors.”

Henry shook his head in exasperation. “You are as impatient as they come. Fine, Hogwarts will hold an international tournament this year. Are you happy now?”

Surprise and excitement widened Hermione’s eyes. “Really? I read about the Tri—‘’

Henry’s arm locked around her shoulder and he pulled her to the side. “Don’t ruin it 'Mione.”

Hermione bit her lower lip and laughed, looking at Ron who was glaring at them. Henry winked. 

Maybe the upcoming tournament would take his mind away from whatever was going on at home.

Daphne glared heatedly at Tracy as she stressed. Again. “You’re incorrigible. I told you time and again that nothing is going on between me and Hadrian. I’m afraid I have to burst your pink bubble but he’s not interested.”

Oblivious to her denial, Tracy cocked a brow up and watched her intensely. “But you are! Sweet Salazar, aren't you a Slytherin? Make a way to make him interested.”

Astoria shrugged in an unconcerned manner. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her for the past week. Both are hopeless.”

Daphne drew a ragged sigh. She’d been awfully miserable since she celebrated her fifteenth birthday. Flocks of owls had charged at Greengrass Manor the next morning. Several Pureblood families wanted her as their daughter-in-law.

Daphne was aware she was from an old and affluent family. Despite the corruption inherent in the Ministry, the Neutrals had stayed steadfast in their disposition to steer away from the other factions’ fights. It wasn’t their place to mend the ridiculous rift between the Dark and the Light.

Both parties were as stubborn as untrained Hippogriffs. Instead, and under Lord Arkeus Warrington’s rule, the Neutrals spent the years that followed Voldemort’s defeat rebuilding their society and looking for prospects to improve Wizarding Britain Wixen’s lives. Some would call them cold and indifferent. They could not be farther from the truth.

The Neutrals' foremost goal was to protect their people and take care of them. Political fights mattered little to them. House Greengrass had been trading in plants for centuries; from rare and precious herbs used for potions, to seeds and roots to vegetables and fruits used for food.

Every Lord in Magical Britain worth his name knew the weight of her House in the Wizengamot and did their best to keep on good terms with her father. Above all, their society respected lineage and power.

Daphne was the next Lady Greengrass and she had learned a long ago to beware greed and treachery. She was taught since she was five how dangerous a position she was in. Her grandmother knew that one day, Lords and Heirs of prestigious and lesser families alike would covet what she had. She was the Heiress to the Greengrass name, fortune and political power.

No one should have a loveless match. And no matter how cold she tried to look in public, she wanted to raise a family with someone she trusted with everything; her heart included.

She wanted what her parents had.

She had principles and respected them in others. She would never accept being treated as a pawn or a means to an end.

Her thoughts drifted to the way Hadrian had rubbed her arm tenderly the night he saved her and Astoria. Her arm had burned at his touch and her fear vanished at once. There was something utterly alluring about his magic that made her feel safe. 

She wondered if he felt the same. Someone as skilled as him should definitely sense Auras.

She was startled when Astoria took a seat beside her and intertwined their fingers. “Don’t fear your feelings. You are the bravest witch I know. You’ve been taking care of me all your life. Let me take care of you in this.”

Daphne was torn between pleading with Astoria to drop the subject or calling her out. The brat was insufferable but she knew how much she cared.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. The last thing she intended to do was to become a salivating admirer of the most wanted bachelor in Hogwarts and Magical Britain.

Astoria smirked making her shudder. “He will escort you to the Yule Ball. Mark my words. Have no fear, Daph, your sister knows better.”

Daphne stifled her cringe at the calm, dead-set look in her sister’s eyes.

Astoria could be scary at times.

Inwardly groaning with frustration, Hadrian looked at Dumbledore. 

“Why is he postponing the inevitable with yet another endless speech?” Adrian shook his head. “We already know about the Triwizard Tournament.’’

“Not everyone is as lucky as you, Heir Pucey,” Hestia Carrow said sardonically.

“And not everyone is vocal about it,” Flora smiled cruelly.

“Merlin’s Mercy, I’m being attacked by the Carrow Devils here,” Adrian spluttered.

“I told you to keep your mouth shut,” Cassius said with deadly calm. 

“But I’m bored,” Adrian sulked. “I want to get to the part about the requirements.” His face brightened all of a sudden with avid excitement. “And I want to know when the Beauxbatons delegation will arrive.”

“You will be seventeen soon,” Marcus reminded his friend sternly. “Aunt Stella will no longer let you fool around. You have duties to attend to, Heir Pucey.”

Adrian’s grin faltered as Marcus’ words penetrated his mind. “Bloody Hell! I’m not ready to settle down yet.”

“Who knows? Maybe the Fates will surprise you this year,” Hadrian directed a pitying stare at his friend.

He smiled faintly when Adrian groaned and dropped his head between his hands.

Truth to be told, his mind was numb. Over and over he heard Cassiopeia’s words in his head. It took tremendous effort not to lash out when he learnt the truth. He took a deep breath to slow the pounding beat of his heart and directed his gaze to the Gryffindors’ table.

Henry seemed to be having fun at the expense of a fuming Ron Weasley. But he knew his brother well it was scary at times. There was much more to Henry Potter than what met the naked eye.

Hermione slapped his upper arm and he threw his head back and laughed. When he sobered, their gazes met across the Great Hall.

Henry hesitated, looking over at him and Hadrian nodded, swallowing the knot in his throat. Both held each other’s gaze sternly. With a fierce frown, Henry studied his eyes and he saw agony and…understanding. Then he took the necklace he gave him years ago out and clutched the ruby tight.

I trust you….

Take your time…

You will never let me down…

The promises; words he whispered to him for years, hovered between them. Hadrian’s light eyes raged with emotions he seldom let out. Instead of the soothing effect the words usually brought, they made him curse the Fates and Voldemort and every traitor who brought this upon his family.

But Henry wasn’t a baby anymore. He needed to know. Deserved to know.

His father asked him to wait for now lest he found an answer that would spare Henry an unknown fate.

A glimmer of hope shot through him at the reminder.

Potters never let a kin in need down.

Hadrian's lips lifted as a small boy who looked suspiciously like Colin Creevey accosted a pale Henry excitedly.

Poor Henry.

He had to tear his gaze away from the entertaining exchange when Dumbledore clapped, demanding everyone’s attention.

“It is my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

Loud protests rent the air. Marcus looked up with a jerk. “What!” he gasped breathlessly.

“But this is our last year,” Adrian moaned.

Cassius placed a comforting hand on a fuming Marcus’ shoulder. “As soon as you graduate, you can play Quidditch as much as you wish.”

Hadrian sighed when the latter rubbed his hands over his face, a deep grimace lining his features. “But I spent the last month devising new tactics to crash Wood for good.”

Dumbledore went on. “Don’t worry. You will have enough entertainment this year.” He gave a short laugh when the Weasley twins pouted. “An event will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year. I can promise you will enjoy it immensely. I proudly announce that this year, Hogwarts will have the honour of hosting an event that had been held for over a century. The Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.’’

“Bloody Hell!” Fred Weasley whistled.

“I have to warn you, though, that the tournament was discontinued for decades because the death toll had unfortunately mounted so high. Two delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will join us soon and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup and there will be a thousand Galleons personal prize money. ”

“This sounds good,” Flora said appreciatively.

Hadrian watched as many faces lit at the prospect of gaining recognition. They listened to Dumbledore raptly as he narrated the history of the Tournament and how they took many precautions to protect the champions.

He found nothing interesting about the Tournament. He didn’t care about money or fame but something kept nagging at the back of his mind.

“Only students of seventeen years or older are allowed to put forward their names,” Dumbledore warned.

“What!” Adrian gasped.

“It’s not like Aunt Stella would ever allow you to put your life in harm’s way,” Cassius sipped his tea casually.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “On another note, I will inform you that we will have another Defense Against the Dark Arts this year in addition to our dear Professor Lupin who will keep teaching students from first to third year. Professor Moody will take over with the upper grades.”

“Moody?” Cassius frowned. 

“But he’s mad,” Flora cackled, vaguely amused.

Hadrian hadn’t warmed to the idea of putting a seasoned Auror like Moody at Hogwarts. The Senior Auror was unpredictable. Tonks had complained many times about the unconventional and harsh methods he used in training Junior Aurors.

He didn’t sound like someone fit to teach youngsters who lacked experience.

What was Dumbledore thinking?

The doors of the Great Hall banged open and Senior Auror Moody strode carelessly towards the teachers’ table.

Many gasps of horror and alarm followed his advance but he didn’t pay them any heed. 

Cassius’ eyes narrowed into an intense stare that seemed to probe the Senior Auror’s back.

“You felt it too?” Hadrian muttered under his breath.

Cassius tensed. “Something feels off about him. His Aura is…tainted.”

The knot in Hadrian’s throat coiled tighter and his frown deepened. There was no more need to deny it. 

Something horrible was about to happen this year.

He felt it in his bones.

Chapter Text

An ear-piercing scream went through the classroom and made everyone wince. Henry shoved his pinkie into his ear and shook it desperate to make the pain stop. “Bloody hell,” he hissed. 

Hermione gave him a reprimanding look he chose to ignore. 

“Is he even allowed to do this?” Ron grumbled.

“He’s called Mad for a reason,” Henry said. “He—‘’ His words trailed off, sobering at Neville’s expression. His godbrother’s shattered gaze tore at his heart. 

He hated seeing his best friend that way. The tragedy that befell Alice Longbottom was still fresh in every Potter’s mind. The two Houses had been allies for centuries and as close as could be.

He cast a hard, deadly glare at Mad-Eye Moody as he threw the spider away and prepared to do another demonstration.

He knew what was coming. The deadliest of all curses and the one that cost him his grandfather.

Moody walked around the table, his magical eye spinning madly and bellowed. “And now, let’s get to the last part of this lesson. I mentioned three curses. Can anyone tell which one we are missing?”

Henry tried to force a smile but it seemed more difficult than it ever had before.

“Maybe Mr Potter can lend us a helping hand,” Moody drawled and closed in on him like a predator that had just spotted its prey.

Henry tilted his head back and looked up at him with a playful grin he didn’t feel. “The third Unforgivable is the Killing Curse. When cast successfully with full intent on a living person or creature, it ends their life at once. The incantation is Avada Kedavra . It was created in the early Middle Ages and restricted by the Wizards’ Council in 1707.”

Moody’s smile froze before he gave him a questioning gaze. “Well said, Potter. Five points to Gryffindors.”

Henry pushed his hair back, leaving his scar bare for all to see. “Can I get more points for a demonstration, Professor?” he asked innocently.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Henry!”

He felt worse when Moody’s grin became quite feral. He could not shake off the feeling that something was wrong about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but he needed to show him that Potters and their friends were not to be crossed.

Ron ground his jaw and shook his head but he ignored his friend’s silent plea.

“If you must,” Moody motioned to his desk.

Henry shrugged Hermione’s restricting hand off and leapt to his feet. Steadily, he aimed at the spider. “Avada Kedavra .”

He heard every breath in the classroom falter. Everyone waited and… nothing happened.

His sombre gaze fell on Moody. “Intent is all that matters in casting. I have no intention of killing an innocent spider for a stupid lesson. I believe every student in this classroom is old enough to understand what the curse can do without a  demonstration.” His voice was low, laced with challenge as he met Moody’s gaze head-on.

Moody’s eye narrowed then he burst out laughing. “You are a bold one, lad. I like you.”

His lips curled at the edges, just enough to prove he was amused with his choice. Henry went back to his seat and gasped when Hermione stepped on his toes. “Why you!”

“Why  you!” she retorted in a muted voice. “Have you gone mad? You could’ve been arrested for casting an Unforgivable.”

“I have no intention of going to Azkaban. I know how much you’ll miss me,” he winked.

She gaped at his audacity. “I wonder why I am still…”

He covered one of her hands with his and said deeply as he gazed into her brown eyes. “What would you have me do? Have you seen Neville’s face? The bastard was deriving pleasure from seeing us suffer. I’m not sure if he’s doing it on purpose but I don’t trust him.”

Hermione’s eyes rounded then slid guiltily to a very pale Neville. Ron was whispering something to him but he was barely paying attention.

Henry had vowed to do all he could to protect his godbrother and at the moment, he didn’t trust himself not to aim his wand at Mad-Eye Moody’s dark heart and curse him to oblivion. Senior Auror or not, it made little importance to him. The man wasn’t what he pretended to be and maybe it was time he consulted with Harry and brought his fears to him.

Maybe he would have a normal year after all he went through… or maybe not.

The enthusiasm among Hogwarts students had reached a boiling point as they waited for the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang’s delegations to arrive.

There was something utterly annoying about boisterous crowds. Daphne could not find ease when surrounded by chattering people.

She looked at Astoria with a lifted brow and sighed. Ironically, her sister seemed to find tranquillity in a bustling environment, whereas she typically found her peace in the serene surroundings of their home.

She supposed it was another quirk of Astoria that noisy, stressful, tireless environments allowed her to slow down time and enjoy the present. As long as she found herself surrounded by crowds of hustling and bustling people, she would stop and appreciate the beauty of life.

A life she might not live fully.

For that, Daphne would endure; had to endure and keep her sister happy. Despite the cloudless sky, a cold shadow swept over her as she looked at Astoria. Pale, ethereal, fragile. Unbearably fragile. Not just in appearance but in her life's breath. Sometimes it seemed as if Astoria had one foot in heaven already, that each moment with her was a precious gift that could be taken at any time.

The thought of losing her sister made Daphne’s chest burn. For as long as she could remember, there had been only the two of them. Daphne and Astoria.

“Try to smile least you scare our guests,” Tracy nudged her.

“Nothing will make them leave. They’re here for a reason”, she said firmly.

“And nothing is wrong with coveting eternal glory,” Astoria rolled her eyes. “It sounds nice.”

“No one remembers the name of the previous Triwizard Champion,” she looked into Astoria’s eyes. “There are more productive ways to make one’s name go down in history. Risking my life for a stupid cup and a handful of galleons is senseless.”

“How could you not get swept in the excitement?” Tracy shook her head. “The Weasley Twins had started a small gambling booth on who’s going to represent Hogwarts.”

“I wish that Hadrian considers putting his name in the Goblet of Fire,” Astoria said with a mischievous smile. “He would show them how snakes fulfil their tasks and achieve a perfect result.”

Daphne kept her pale eyes fixed on the Forbidden Forest. Since Hadrian had rescued them from the Death Eaters, Astoria had regaled her with too much romantic nonsense to even attempt to feign ignorance at what she was getting at. When she reminded her that marriage for women of their status was mainly to secure alliances and not always for love, the brat snorted.

Of course, she wouldn’t settle for less than a love match. Astoria needn’t know that, though.

But what if her sister was right? What if…

The thought barely had time to form before it was quickly disproved.

Her chest swelled with emotion when she stole a sideways glance and her gaze locked with Hadrian’s. He nodded with a smile she returned hesitantly.

The moment she resumed looking at the forest, Astoria lifted up on her toes and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t lie to me, Daph. I’m watching you.”

She was about to produce a retort when Dumbledore called out from the back row. Soon enough, a powder blue carriage pulled through the air by eight huge Abraxans hurtled low until it landed. 

“Merlin’s Mercy!” Tracy gasped when a huge woman—larger than Hagrid—emerged from the carriage. The flummoxed students broke into applause when Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. Daphne noticed that many boys pushed their way through the throng to have a better look at the girls who followed after Madame Maxime.

“Boys,” Astoria sniffed. “What’s so special…” Her words trailed off when a very pretty blonde with a long mane of silver hair let her hood down.

“Veelas?” she breathed.

“It makes sense considering that they have inhabited the Cote d’Azur for centuries. It’s rumoured that France has the largest Veela Coven in Europe,” she explained.

Tracy narrowed her eyes. “I hope they won’t hurt our chances at getting a good escort for the Yule Ball.”

“At least Hadrian doesn’t seem affected at all,” Astoria chirped. 

“Look!” Lee Jordan yelled, pointing down at the lake. In the middle of the Black Lake, a whirlpool started and from the heart of it, a magnificent ship rose out of the water.

“Whoa! Talk about unforgettable entrances,” Tracy grinned. Her smile, however, disappeared and her eyes widened as the Durmstrang delegation drew nearer.

Leading them was a tall man she presumed was the fabled High Master Karkaroff. What stole everyone’s attention, though, was the lean student walking by his side and wearing Durmstrang's customary crimson colours.

“Viktor Krum!” Many students blurted in a stunned voice.

“I thought he had graduated,” Daphne said thoughtfully. “He looks older than seventeen.”

“But it’s Viktor Krum!” Tracy gasped.

She shook her head and exchanged an exasperated look with Astoria. She wrapped her arm around her delicate shoulders and tucked her against her. “Let’s go inside. I have a feeling that we will have a very long night.”

Astoria winked and snuggled closer. “Do you think Krum will sit next to us? I’d like to learn more about the Wronski Feint.”

Daphne groaned. “Not you too, Tori!”

It had been a long night, Hadrian sighed. He let his hood down and glared at the Goblet of Fire. As he drew closer, the charge in the air intensified. With each step, his heartbeat raced faster. His gaze unwavering, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the piece of parchment where he had written his name earlier. 

Eternal glory and fame held no appeal for him, yet, an inner voice urged him to put his name.

Earlier, he had hastily signalled an end to the Court meeting and as his main advisors rose to depart, Cassius remained. He forced himself to remain calm as he exchanged a meaningful look with his best friend. All thoughts of enjoying the forthcoming tournament and watching from the sidelines were eclipsed by that look.

Once again, he had to take drastic measures or pay a hefty price. His father had suspected as much since Bertha Jorkins disappeared. Voldemort was up to something and he wouldn’t put it past him to use underhanded methods to get Henry.

He looked transfixed as the fire devoured the piece of parchment. Would the Goblet of Fire choose him? He didn’t know. He heard rumours about Heir Diggory, Heir Davis and Heiress Johnson putting their names. 

Cassius, Adrian and Marcus stood as honour guards at the end of the Great Hall as he finished the deed.

“At least one of us is old enough to represent the Court,” Adrian smirked.

“Marcus and the Carrow Twins are seventeen,” Cassius reminded him.”

Adrian looked at Marcus. “Er…”

“I have no interest in a Tournament that took another Quidditch Cup from me,” Marcus sniffed. “I’ll be happy cheering for Hadrian from the stands.”

“You speak as if I’ve been chosen. We don’t know yet,” Hadrian said.

“Please, pretty boy Diggory, Davis and the rest are no match for you. You will beat them,” Adrian snorted. “I hope their pride won’t suffer sorely when you bring the Triwizard Cup to House Slytherin.”

Hadrian shook his head and retrieved the Marauders' Map. His eyes searched the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's quarters. He hardly had time to process the words that showed as he felt a chill so strong it turned his blood to ice. He blinked, wondering whether he was imagining things.

“Barty Couch. Jr,” he glanced at his friends with a dark face.

“Moody?” Cassius said with cold purpose.

He nodded once. They had suspected the new professor since he set foot in the Great Hall.

“He’s an imposter,” Marcus growled. 

“We will watch him without drawing attention to ourselves,” his voice was soulless, empty as he started devising a plan to catch the traitor. “Let’s find out why he’s here first.”

His eyes darted, unwillingly, to the Goblet of Fire and a stab of fear shot through him.

Hopefully, he wasn’t too late.

“Go ahead,” he said firmly. “I need to think.”

His friends were shrewd enough to understand what was going through his mind.

“I’ll ask Vaisey and Higgs to shadow him,” Cassius offered. 

“You do that,” he said tonelessly and let his hood down, taking a dark corridor that led to a set of abandoned classrooms.

He needed to write a letter to his father and grandfather and let them know what had been going on at Hogwarts.

He dreaded his mother’s reaction but he had no choice. 

He halted when he noticed a faint light in one of the classrooms. He wondered what prompted this student to leave the warmth of their Common Room and seek the solitude the abandoned classroom offered.

Under the Invisibility Cloak, he moved silently looking for an answer to quench his piqued curiosity.

His gaze was instantly drawn to the profile of Daphne Greengrass who seemed engrossed in the book she was reading.

He grew bolder in his observation, noticing the fine lines of her jaw, the perfect mouth and the delicate brows. The dim light picked up the golden strands of her hair, making them shine like molten gold. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed previously the noble bearing that permeated the air around her. He stilled, however, when he became aware of the single tear that streamed down her right cheek. 

Daphne Greengrass didn’t cry. Ever. She was called the Ice Queen for a reason.

What happened to make this strong, invincible girl so sad?

She closed the book and looked at the ceiling, fighting against a feeling of helplessness that threatened to smother her.

For an uncanny reason, the sight bothered Hadrian beyond reason. He let his Cloak down and knocked on the open door. “Daphne?”

She stifled a startled gasp and at once, her mask slid back into place. She was putting up an impressive façade.

Hadrian wasn’t fooled. He searched her face then let his gaze slid to the book that seemed to cause her distress. ‘Anathemas & Blood Maledictions’.

She saw the moment of recognition in his face and knew that he would not welcome an excuse or a half-truth.

“Daphne,” he tried again. “You can tell me anything.”

Chapter Text

For the past four years, Daphne Greengrass had wondered time and again how eloquent Hadrian Potter-Black was on nearly any subject except feelings. He seldom displayed emotion unless his brother was concerned. She knew that while her heart was locked in breaking the Blood Malediction, his was locked in revenge.

But there were moments such as now when he allowed her extraordinary glimpses into his heart without even being aware of it. It cemented her conviction that he was a very good young man.

He was also a very intelligent one and a blasé answer would not deter him from seeking the truth.

She cursed her rotten luck. Immersed in yet another book about Blood Maledictions, he took her by surprise. There was no time to shield her emotions and put her customary icy mask in place.

Daphne hated it. She hated being caught unprepared—at her weakest moment. She also abhorred pity. She hadn’t wallowed in the luxury of self-pity in years, since she decided it was her duty as the eldest—and the future Lady Greengrass—to protect her sister. She had buried her emotions and never acknowledged her grief.

She had thrown all her feelings—all her dreams and aspirations aside and concentrated on the most important matter at hand. Astoria’s cure.

However, the feeling of helplessness was back with vengeance. It rocked her at the core and made her feel small and terrified.

She felt the intensity of Hadrian’s scrutiny full force as his keen eyes watched her bare face.

She stilled when a small furrow appeared between his dark brows. The moment his gaze went to the book she ‘borrowed’ from the Restricted Section of Hogwarts’ Library, silence descended over the room and she waited, heart pounding in her chest, for him to put two and two together and unmask her—to find her deepest secret; the heavy secret every Greengrass had been keeping since Lady Rosalind Greengrass was hit by an Obscure Curse that would be passed down into the family as a Blood Malediction to only surface in females.

Her great-great-great-grandmother had refused Lord Ambrose Marchbanks’ proposal, unaware of what that simple act would entail. His pride hurt, the Dark wizard decided to exact the cruellest revenge there was on the witch who dared refuse him. When Lord Edwinus Greengrass understood what happened to his beloved, a gruelling grief broke his heart. He looked everywhere for a cure without success. The Obscure Curse his vile rival used was very old and unknown to Wix of his generation. On her deathbed, Lady Rosalind asked her husband to keep the public away from the knowledge of the curse for fear of the children of House Greengrass being ostracized. Lord Edwinus had no choice but to accept his wife’s last wish.

In the centuries that followed, several daughters of House Greengrass were affected. Many of them died at a young age and only a few reached adulthood.

Slowly, Hadrian lifted his gaze to hers. Daphne didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t blink as their eyes collided unhindered by lies and masks for the very first time since they met.

Gazing into his deep green eyes, she wondered if it was too wrong to ignore Lady Rosalind’s wish. To trust that the truth would not bring the Noble of Most Ancient House of Greengrass’ ruin.

Would it be too wrong to trust for once? To believe that people were not inherently evil. 

For years, she had reconciled that she would do whatever necessary—even commit sins against Mother Magic and use Forbidden Magic—rather than give up on saving Astoria. Never weakened or diminished by failure, her resolution fuelled her heart to carry on with her most important mission.

But…she was tired. She was not a fool. Generations of Greengrasses’ efforts were met with bitter disappointment. Perhaps it was time to admit defeat and seek help. And who’s better than the one wizard who had free access to the fabled Black Library?

“Daphne?” she heard the determination in his voice and knew that he could not be easily dissuaded. There was genuine worry and something more terrifying and comforting at once—protectiveness.

“Heir Potter-Black,” she addressed him by his Title and he seemed to take the hint. He stood straighter—a feat she hadn’t thought possible—almost as if preparing to do battle. 

“Heiress Greengrass,” he said in a soft, kind tone and stepped right in front of her, perhaps too close. It seemed as if he was trying to assuage her fears. He loosened the austere control he had over his magic and she shuddered as Grey Magic—the Potter Magic—reached to comfort her. At that moment, she knew she was right. And soon she would know how right she was.

“What you want to know is a House Greengrass private matter. If you are so inclined to…offer your help,” the word felt foreign as it left her lips. Her stomach twisted; she thought of what he would think when he learned the truth. It surprised her how much she wanted things out to turn the way she wanted them to. How much she wanted him to prove to her that he was the wizard she thought him to be. Honourable. Trustworthy. Ressourceful. “I must insist on a vow. Your word would be enough.”

Daphne knew that the Potter Honour was incontestable. Hadrian’s word would be more than enough. It would comfort the part of her that wanted to honour Lady Rosalind's last wish. 

‘’I understand,’’ he said smoothly. ”I would do the same and for that, I offer you an Unbreakable Vow. I will never betray your trust.”

With a faint smile, he held out his hand. Rampant pleasure washed the coldness away as shrouds of Potter Magic enveloped her. The magic was reacting to the Heir’s desires. She slipped her hand in his and warmth spread through her. She felt content and safe as if there was nothing more natural than her hand in his. Every instinct she possessed clamoured to hold on and not let go. To share the hefty burden she’d been carrying for years and…take a breath.

Hadrian’s grip tightened and she fought the hot swell to her eyes and throat when he whispered, ever so softly. “Is it about Astoria?”

Whispers filled the Great Hall as everyone waited for Dumbledore to announce the Champions’ names. 

‘’I’d like to remark on what a hopeless mess this is. Why is Dumbledore postponing the inevitable? This is getting ridiculous,” Marcus growled in annoyance.

Hadrian’s gaze shot to Mad-Eye Moody, comprehension dawning when he noticed the way he was eyeing Henry.

It was already too late.

He tried to calm the cold fire threatening to rise in his chest as he scanned the professors’ faces. He took a deep breath and forced his mask back into place. There was no time for regrets now.

Thank Merlin he had acted on his suspicions—which had spurred him into putting his name into the Goblet of Fire even though he had no interest in the tournament.

“Devious bastard,” he muttered under his breath. He might have admired the Death Eater’s sneakiness and devotion to his cause if it wasn’t Henry’s life he was putting in jeopardy.

“And why in Merlin’s Name would Dumbledore do that?” Adrian scoffed. “He enjoys the attention.” Despite his playful tone, there was no mistaking the guarded look in his eyes. Every member of the Court knew how important this night was. 

Hadrian looked at Henry for a moment and he saw the wariness in his eyes. It was mind-boggling—and quite amusing—that Henry was the one trying to protect him. When he confessed that he put his name into the Goblet of Fire, the news didn’t go well with the brat. Thanks to Miss Granger, he was aware of how hazardous the tournament was.

Dumbledore at last got to his feet and clapped his hands. “The Goblet of Fire has made its decision. So, when the Champions’ names are called, I would ask them to please come up here and go through into the adjoining chamber. The judges will join you soon so you can receive your instructions for the First Task.”

He waved dramatically with his wand, plunging the Great Hall into semidarkness. Hadrian stared at Dumbledore’s face, wreathed in shadows, as he caught the charred piece of parchment that fluttered out of the Goblet of Fire. 

“The Champion for Durmstrang is Mr Viktor Krum!” he said clearly.

Cheers and applause swept the Great Hall. 

Cassius' mouth curved wryly. “High Master Karkaroff looks pleased.”

The other Durmstrang students clapped Krum on the back as he walked dutifully to the adjoining chamber.

A moment later, a second piece of parchment shot out of the goblet.

“The Champion for Beauxbatons is Mademoiselle Fleur Delacour!” 

The French seventh-year got gracefully to her feet and walked toward the chamber.

“Her schoolmates do not look particularly thrilled,” Graham frowned.

“They’re probably jealous,” Adrian scratched his chin. “Mademoiselle Delacour doesn’t seem popular with the girls.”

“It’s unfair and utterly foolish to blame someone for something out of their control,” Cassius said wisely. “She’s doing her best to rein on her Aura. They should work more on their Occlumency Shields instead of outcasting her.”

A pressing silence steeled in the Great Hall as everyone waited with a bated breath for the Hogwarts Champion.

Hadrian kept his eyes on the goblet though his mind was spinning with different outcomes. If Mad-Eye had managed somehow to slip Henry’s name, he had to be there at all times to protect his brother and find out what they were after. The Tournament might become the chance his family had been waiting for.

His jaw clenched tight, he watched as the fire roared before a flame shot high, delivering the third name.

“The Champion for Hogwarts is Mr Hadrian Potter-Black,” Dumbledore announced. His eyes went to his face as if looking for something. When Hadrian refused to lower his gaze, the Headmaster nodded toward the chamber where the other champions were waiting.

Every Slytherin raised graciously to their feet the moment his name was announced. Cassius clasped his shoulder. “Well done, Hadrian. It’s time we show the other Houses how Slytherins do in the face of adversity.”

“Go and show them, Hadrian!” Astoria shouted, a huge grin splitting her pale face. He gave her a wink as he passed by.

What choice did he have? He would never submit to the Fates’ verdict for he knew what that might cost him.

He remained relaxed as he made his way toward the chamber. The Hufflepuffs looked crestfallen. No wonder, they wanted Heir Diggory to be their Champions.

The Ravenclaws didn’t seem bothered at all. They respected resourcefulness and wit.

“Hadrian!” Henry waved vivaciously. Neville, Ron and Hermione stood and followed suit. They looked thrilled. 

“Good luck,” he heard a whisper and a private smile lifted his lips. He knew that voice too well. He gave her a small bow as he looked into her icy-blue eyes.

His silent amusement faded as his eyes went to Mad-Eye again. He felt a peculiar cold invade his core, making him stiff and uneasy as the imposter licked his lips in anticipation and tapped his wooden leg. Conscious of what was most likely about to happen, he was unable to do anything except look at Henry helplessly. Finally, his gaze went to the Goblet of Fire again and a burning rage spread through him as if it were seeping out from the marrow of his bones.

“Mr Potter-Black, would you please—‘’

However, Dumbledore stopped as red sparks flew out of the goblet. A raging flame shot into the air, carrying with it another charred piece of parchment. Dumbledore seized it and stared at the name written upon it.

“Henry Potter…” His words were laced with deadly purpose. The wave of shock from the crowd told him that chaos was about to erupt if he did not act post haste.

Hadrian dismissed them blithely deciding it was time to handle whatever trouble Barty crouch. Jr had caused.

He pointed his wand at the imposter. “You should’ve tried to fool someone else. Someone far more suited to fall for your pathetic tricks.”

“Potter-Black!” Moody growled. But it was too late. He threw a wordless ‘Incarcerous’ at him.

“Mr Potter-Black, untie Professor Moody at once.” Dumbledore looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“Harry?” Henry rasped. 

“Stand by me, you have nothing to fear,” he breathed softly. Then to the Professors, he said coolly. “Before that, you have to listen to what I have to say. Afterwards, you are free to untie your dear colleague.” He smiled impudently. “Though, we might require the Aurors’ assistance first.”

With that, he waved his wand and a huge Griffin sprang from its tip. Its keen eyes looked into his as he whispered. “Father, Sirius we need you.”

Chapter Text

‘’Let’s have a drink. I have a good feeling about tonight,’’ Sirius grinned.

“Shhh, don’t even breathe that word lest you jinx the night,” James sank deeper into his comfy chair, trying to mask his nerves. “I’m waiting for good news from Harry.’’

Lily narrowed her eyes. “Is there something you want to tell me now, James Fleamont Potter?”

James gulped. Whenever Lily used his full name, it never boded well for him.

“Well, you know that our son put his name into the Goblet of Fire.”

“Which is by the way a very dangerous tournament considering the death rate.” She aimed a dagger-like glare at him. “How could you be happy with your son taking part in this death trap?”

James swallowed the knot in his throat and refused to meet Lily’s eyes. Obviously, he hid the reason behind Harry’s interest in the Triwizard Tournament from his tempestuous wife. Had she known, she would’ve surely barged into Dumbledore’s office and strangled him with his beard no less. For that, he remained in the shadows waiting until a new Samhain that brought more unsavoury news was upon them.

“Er—Maybe I should leave you to have a private talk with your wife, Prongs,’’ Sirius—ever the traitor, said with an uncharacteristic small voice. He jolted to his feet, his hand going hastily to grab his leather biker jacket. ‘’I don’t want to interfere in your—‘’

‘’Sit down!’’ James glared at his best friend. Sirius brought his hands up in defeat and went back to his seat. “I’m just being considerate.”

“Sit down!” Lily hissed. “You’ll have your turn next.” James glanced at his Blood Brother and snorted. The man had gone pale. Good. Lily had scared him and he’d gotten her off the subject of keeping things from her. That was all he needed until he received news from Harry—or so he thought until her gaze clashed with him again, narrowing, her jaw rippling as if she was grinding her teeth. She was seething.

Good Godric...

“You may not elude the noose tonight, mate,” Sirius smiled devilishly at his expression then sobered when he received a side look from Lily.

“Explain,” Lily’s shoulders slumped in defeat, her gaze turning dull. She crossed her arms across her chest in a feeble attempt to hide her fear. James sighed and took her into his arms. He could hear her heart thumping wildly against his chest. Tenderly, he kissed the top of her head. “I knew that something was remiss when Harry decided all of a sudden to participate. I know my son. He has no interest whatsoever in fame or money. You’re stupider than I thought if you believed I didn’t have my warranted suspicions. He’s after something. Something that’s undoubtedly threatening Henry’s safety.”

Sirius laughed darkly. “No wonder James fell in love with you at first sight. You’re indeed the brightest witch of your age, Lils.”

“Both of you need to brush up with your brains,” Lily scoffed. “I’m not being overly smart. I am a mother who knows her son and cares about his wellbeing.”

James helped her back to her seat and draped a protective arm around her shoulders. “There’s an intruder in Hogwarts. One who’s been patently sent by Voldemort. Harry and his friends have been after him since the year started. He might lead us to his master.”

Lily frowned. “Is that why he wants to compete? He suspects that someone is going to put Henry’s name—“ Her voice trailed off when a light so bright came into the room it almost blinded them. It was Harry’s giant Griffin. 

The three Wixen rose in unison to their feet and apparated at once.  

Henry’s throat tightened. He hated being the centre of attention, hated being the Boy Who Lived with an undying passion.

Did Wizarding Britain think that the inconsequential detail that he survived while his grandfather died mattered to him? He scoffed at that. He couldn’t fathom how a day every Potter considered a source of pain and grief became a celebration.

Wizarding Britain lost a great man that night. That alone was reason enough to respect the Potters’ privacy and just…let them be…let him be Henry; just Henry: a young wizard still struggling to find his place in the world.

It seemed that every Samhain since he stepped into Hogwarts became the bringer of bad news. 

He raked Moody with a repugnant glare wishing there was some way to extract the truth out of his treacherous mouth at this very moment.

From the moment he met the new Defense Against Dark Arts professor, he tried not to cringe as a nasty suspicion went through him. It didn’t take a genius to work out the fact that he was the one who put his name into the Goblet of Fire.

Harry placed a hand over his shoulder comfortingly. He felt suddenly better. He patted that hand and nodded. “I’m fine. Let’s do this.”

He didn’t mention that at times, he wanted to crawl into a hole and hide for a while. But he was a Potter and Potters never shied away from confrontations. 

“Henry…” Hermione approached him slowly and looked up at him sympathetically. “I believe you. We’ll get over this. Together.”

“Yes, we do, mate,” Neville said firmly. “Whoever did this will pay.”

“Only you, Henry. Only you,” Ron sighed dramatically.

Henry shrugged and kept stealing glances at the Great Hall’s entrance. Hermione squeezed his hand and dragged the rest of the Golden Four back to their seats.

Harry hummed in satisfaction. Not a heartbeat after, everyone stood in stunned shock as a loud crash followed by debris raining to the floor was heard.

“Albus Dumbledore, what have you done?” Lily Evans Potter growled.

Henry shuddered. His mother’s hair had gone wild. Angry magic was repelling the fiery strands and parting them in all directions. Her eyes blazed as her gaze went to Moody.

“Mother?” Harry arched a regal brow and something passed between them. Lily exhaled and cast a venomous stare at Dumbledore.

“How did this man manage to trick the wards?” James asked in a voice that said. ‘Don’t try to work your way out of this.’

“This man?” Professor McGonagall looked at his father as if he’d grown another head.

“Yes, this imposter,” Sirius gestured to the barely conscious man—courtesy of the second spell Harry cast at him wordlessly and wandlessly. “Who, by dint of your uselessness, had managed to put Henry’s name into the Goblet of Fire and bind him to a tournament he has no business partaking in.”

“Before you start throwing—“ Snape sneered, but Lily gave him no chance. “This is not the right time for you to be petulant and bitter, Mr Snape. My son’s safety comes first.”

Henry wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Snape paled even more. He stiffened and said slowly. “They’re attacking a fellow professor without proof.”

“What’s the meaning of this, Dumbledore?” High Master Karkaroff’s dark eyes sparkled with fury. “Two Champions for Hogwarts? You promised that your Age Line is enough.”

“Igor, this is not the right time for this. Maybe we should take this discussion elsewhere.”

“No,” James said coldly. “I won’t have anyone accuse my son of being a cheater. Everything we say will be heard by everyone. I sent a Patronus to Madam Bones, she’s on her way here.” Fury bled from his father’s magic as he looked at Hogwarts students. 

Many of them looked uncomfortable as they averted their faces. Fame was a fickle thing, indeed. He didn’t need Legilimency to know what they were thinking.

“I don’t like any of this,” Madame Maxime hissed at Dumbledore—something made even more ferocious by her inhuman height.

“My brother did not put his name into the Goblet of Fire. Barty Crouch Jr. disguised as Senior Auror Moody did that.” The unmitigated rage in Harry’s eyes scorched the professors and reminded him so much of Arcturus Black that it gave him a chill. “He will put your suspicions at rest once and for all.”

Henry frowned and straightened as he became aware of all the judging gazes fixed on him.

“Don’t let their stupidity steal your fire,” Harry whispered in his ear. “You don’t need the likes of them.”

Henry smiled and gave them a condemning look as he took his wand out and said in a clear voice. “I, Henry Fleamont Potter, swear on my magic that I did not put my name into the Goblet of Fire nor did I ask someone to do it for me. So Mote Be It.” A stag emerged from his wand and stotted around the Great Hall.

“Now that this is out of the way, let’s find out the truth,” Sirius tapped his wand against Moody’s temple. “Time to start talking, imposter.”

James and Lily stood over the man, their nostrils flared. He could sense ripples of the Potter Family Magic in the air, ravenous to do the Lord’s bidding and eliminate whoever presented a threat to him or his.

“James,” Dumbledore sighed. “I know you’re angry.”

James chose to ignore the headmaster.

“Potter,” the imposter growled. He flicked his tongue and Karkaroff gasped. It was an unusual tongue. A forked tongue.

“I know how to deal with the likes of you,” Lily’s grin was feral. “Mr Snape, I’m afraid I don’t have Veritaserum on me. I need to borrow some of your stock.”

Snape seemed to cling to the offered olive branch like a lifeline. “That can be arranged, Lady Potter.”

Henry glanced askance at Harry. He gave an imperceptible shrug. For a moment, no one spoke or moved as they waited for Snape to fetch the Veritaserum.

“This better be something worth dragging me out of the case I was working on,” Madam Bones barged into the Great Hall, followed by Auror Shaklebolt and Junior Auror Tonks.

Her eyes lit up when they met Harry’s. “Heir Black,” she chirped, kissed him on the cheek and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Tonks,” Harry smiled faintly and tightened his arms around her.

“I’m so incredibly confused,” the pink-haired Auror scrunched her nose.

“So, it seems, is everyone. You didn’t miss much. Don’t worry.”

Henry couldn’t hide his snort at his brother’s sarcasm.

Hadrian’s ire fuelled him into hyper energy. The Black Magic, ever so thirsty to exact revenge, clamoured for forgoing the niceties and moving to torture.

This vile man—this criminal, was the reason his brother was forced to take part in a tournament that took many a good wizard and witch’s lives. Tendrils of magic escaped the tight control he had over his core and curled protectively around Henry.

His brother's startled gaze flew to his face and gratefulness filled his hazel eyes. Even if Henry wasn’t helpless anymore, he would never tire of looking after him. Potters never turned their backs on their family. 

His expression offended, Dumbledore stepped back as Madam Bones skewered him with a filthy glare. “When a bunch of fools decided to revive this tournament, you promised that you would make sure no child is in danger. I was against holding this death trap at Hogwarts from the start for a sound reason. And now what do we have? A minor about to compete against witches and wizards with mature cores. Can’t you grasp the enormity of this, Dumbledore? I won’t have James' son's blood spilt on my watch.”

“It won’t come to that,” Henry muttered under his breath. ‘’To all intents and purposes, I am unkillable.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Lily hissed.

Hadrian rolled his eyes at his brother’s bad timing. 

“I assure you I had no prior knowledge of this. I cast the Age Line myself. It is more than enough to prevent any minor from trespassing.”

“But not adults, it seems,” Madame Maxime sneered. “How could you overlook this crucial detail?”

“I—“ he hung his head in shame. “You are unfortunately right, Madame Maxime.”

“Which won’t absolve you from your part in causing this,” Madam Bones said. “You know very well when great men like you commits faults, the price is usually too hefty to pay. This is a disgrace to Hogwarts, to the Ministry of Magic and to Magical Britain in general.”

Snape forced Barty’s head back and put three drops of Veritaserum into his mouth. He gurgled and tried to spit but it was useless.

Not a single sound was heard, not even the rustle of a breath as everyone waited.

James swept Dumbledore with a fierce scowl before he sank to one knee and looked Barty Jr. in the eye. “Who are you?”

Barty seemed to struggle for a moment, but it was pointless. Veritaserum was the strongest Truth Serum known to Wixen. “B-Bartemius Emerick Crouch Jr.”

Madam Bones held her hand to silence the outraged crowd.

“How?” High Master Karkaroff looked flabbergasted.

“That’s what I plan to find out,” James sounded on the verge of pouncing on the other wizard.

“I can help,” Sirius offered. He whispered under his breath and before everyone’s eyes the scars and the mangled nose disappeared, the mane of grey hair turned light brown and with a clunk, the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg took its place.

Everyone seemed momentary stunned before shouts and whispers filled the Great Hall.

“I still prefer Moody’s face,” Henry sighed.

“We all do, little Henry,” Tonks chirped. “I’d rather have my cruel, heartless mentor any given day.”

“Don’t call me that!” Henry scowled.

“Did you put Henry’s name into the Goblet of Fire? Have you forged his signature?” Professor McGonagall sounded livid.

“I used his signature from one of his assignments. It’s Potter’s handwriting. The contact is biding. There’s no way out for your precious Saviour.”

“How dare you?” Lily spat and before James could stop her, she drew her arm back and let her fist fly, catching Barty right on the nose. The hit sent him to the floor again. He grinned as blood trickled down his mouth and chin. “There’s nothing you can do to save your child, Mudblood. His fate is in Master’s hands now.”

“You—“ Rage overrode rational thought as James tried to lunge. Thankfully, Sirius prevented him from killing the man before he—

Hadrian frowned. He exchanged a look with Cassius who jumped to his feet, his eyes narrowed into stormy slits. At once, he drew his wand but it was too late.

Barty smeared blood over the Dark Mark and muttered under his breath. He inhaled sharply and then grimaced. The mark started glittering and dread filled his veins. The snake opened its blood-red eyes and slithered out of the green skull’s mouth. It bared its sharp fangs and lightning fast, sank them viciously into Barty’s wrist.

Dumbledore aimed his wand at the gaping wound to no purpose.

“You will lose,” Barty breathed ruggedly as his complexion went too pale. Jeering in triumph, he closed his eyes one last time.

“This is enough,” Dumbledore’s voice brokered no argument. “Everyone back to your common rooms. Prefects, please take your housemates to your respective dormitories.”

Still astonished by how this night had turned out, it took the students a while to vacate the Great Hall.

“And still we didn’t get much,” Sirius raked a hand through his long hair in frustration.

“Lord Crouch has so much to answer to,” Madam Bones growled. “I’ll have Unspeakable Rookwood look into this case. There’s more to the Dark Mark than what we thought.”

Hadrian dimly questioned where everything had gone so wrong. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. Veritaserum should’ve forced Barty to reveal Voldemort’s whereabouts so they could—

“Don’t,” Henry grabbed his arm firmly. “I know what you’re thinking. None of this is your fault. I don’t blame you for what happened tonight.”

“Henry…” When did his little brother become so wise?

“But the tournament,” Lily said in defeat.

“I want to compete. I have to find out why Voldemort went to these lengths to make me compete. It was inevitable from the start. We've known for years it would come to this eventually.”

“That’s a very brave thing for you to say, Henry,” Dumbledore stared at his brother with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“With all due respect, Professor, I’m not doing it for you,” Henry said in a hard voice. “I’m doing it for my family. They don’t deserve a weak son who keeps hiding behind their backs. I’m a Potter too and Potters fear nothing—even Death. It’s but another beginning.”

As soon as the words left Henry's mouth, obsidian sparks erupted from Dumbledore’s wand. He seemed alarmed as he stared at it questioningly.

Hadrian frowned and vowed to look more into this later. Everyone’s head spun around when the door crashed against the wall and someone barked. 

“Where’s the bloody bastard who put me into that pit?” A haggard Senior Auror Moody limped towards them and bared his teeth when he saw Barty’s lifeless body. “Albus!”

Chapter Text

‘’I knew that Hadrian put his name into the Goblet of Fire for a reason,” Astoria frowned. “Not that I blame him. I said it before; he and you are so alike.”

Daphne didn’t reply. She held her tongue with the aid of years of practice. She remembered the expression on Hadrian’s face when Dumbledore pronounced his brother’s name with a heavy heart. Last night, she had longed to offer him comfort. To soothe the wildness in his gaze and to make him—somehow—feel better. But she could not. Luckily, his family was there to support the two brothers.

Astoria placed her hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “I know what you’re thinking. Hadrian is not invincible. He needs someone to lean on.”

She stepped back and broke the hold. She tried to walk around her sister, but she moved and blocked her path. ‘’Tori,’’ Daphne began to shake her head, asking her wordlessly to drop the topic. ‘’Go to your room."

The little firecracker, however, clicked her tongue, and raising a single finger, she pointed at her. ‘’I can feel the budding connection between you. Don’t let self-doubt and fear destroy something that could be so beautiful. I’m fine, I swear.”

Sometimes, she forgot that Astoria was an Empath. What made it worse was that she was blessed with a keen mind when it came to placing two and two together.

Her heart rate increased as she considered Astoria’s words. Hadrian was definitely going through a hard time. Barty Jr. Had managed to outsmart everyone and end his life on his own terms—without giving away any useful information. It was not hard to deduce that someone was after Henry. Someone who wanted to harm him.

One name only came to mind: Voldemort.

“Never be ruled by self-doubt. It doesn’t fit you,” Astoria said solemnly, “and never ever question your heart. You’ve been winnowing your feelings for years they’re barely there; otherwise, you’re bound to be alone and I’d never like that for you, Daph. You deserve happiness. That’s what Grandmother would’ve wanted for you and you don’t want to disappoint her, do you?”

“No,” she blurted out, appalled by the very idea, even though every instinct she possessed was yelling at her that she was being played by her little sister like a fiddle.

She would not be ruled by doubt. Or at the least, she would try not to be ruled by it. It was not who she was.

She kept her expression neutral and started toward the door. When she reached it, she looked over her shoulder at Astoria, found that she watched her with a pleased smirk lifting her lips and rolled her eyes. “You can go to your room now. Are you happy?”

"No," Astoria snickered. “I am ecstatic.”

Hadrian would’ve been able to reconcile himself to the fact that no one knew enough about the blasted Dark Mark and how it worked.

However, Barty’s intentions—and his unwavering loyalty to his master had been clear from the beginning. The bastard had managed to control every aspect of Voldemort’s plan and execute it to perfection, fooling them all in the meantime. Finding out his real identity didn’t help much. There was no point in denying the obvious: Barty Crouch Jr. was very good at what he’d been doing. It had been literally impossible to predict his next step.

It grieved him to admit defeat, but there was no honour in lying to one’s self.

He sat on the edge of the Owlery, gazed up at the twinkling stars, and sighed. Maybe an end to the war was in sight after all. The uncertainty, the grief, this wretched game—it would all be over. The nightmare that had been plaguing his family for years would be gone. The Fates might be moving against them, but they would stop them no matter what.

Henry would be safe. Everything would be blissfully normal. Because Voldemort was somewhere out there waiting for the auspicious moment to catch Henry. All he had to do now was be ready for the upcoming confrontation.

His feet stopped dangling from the edge when a familiar Aura washed over him. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and wasn’t surprised when he found Daphne watching him in silence with keen interest.

He patted the spot next to him and waited. Daphne blinked and with her usual gracefulness, settled down.

Sometimes, he wondered what was so special about her. He was aware that he was finding it harder not to look at her whenever she was close.

She was pretty—ethereal. But beautiful girls weren’t such a rarity that he should be struggling to take his eyes away from her. He wasn’t having any trouble keeping his gaze away from Flora or Hestia Carrow and they were two of the most beautiful witches he’d ever seen.

But something about Daphne Greengrass drew the eye. Even in a school full of girls vying for his attention, she sparkled like a diamond among the glass. Beauty wasn’t it—or all of it, at least. Her appeal went deeper. There was something endearing about her smiles, no matter how rare they were. There was something captivating about the twinkle in her icy-blue eyes, and delightfully naughty about her superior smirks.  She was vivid and vivacious, brimming with inner-strength.

Hadrian, however, knew better. There was much more to her. Daphne was calculating, cunning and resourceful like every proud Slytherin but she possessed traits he appreciated above all. Loyalty, determination, and devotion.

“How are you?” she said softly.

Hadrian leaned on his arms and gazed into the darkness. “I guess we’ll have an eventful year.”

That earned him a snort. “At least you won’t have a boring year before graduating.” A wicked smile gleamed in her clear eyes. ‘’It was quite the show. You gave our esteemed guests a night to remember.”

Hadrian sighed. “They were the last thing I had in mind.”

Her hand was so close to his he could feel its warmth. As if sensing his scrutiny, she looked down, and a faint blush spread over her face. He felt it again—the strange compulsion he’d experienced when he saved her from the Death Eaters. The inability to let her walk away. The need to keep her close.

He dragged his fingers through his hair, trying to fight the urge, to calm the sudden restlessness teeming inside him. Maybe it was due to the lack of sleep or…

He froze when she reached up and gripped his hand, not looking at him, colour still high on her cheeks.

When he didn’t say a thing, she finally lifted her chin and tilted her face slightly up toward him. Her eyes stared into his from beneath her dark, half-lowered lashes and wisps of pale hair that had fallen over her face. It was as if she was waiting for him. Waiting for something. From him. Instinctively, he reached out and swept the silky locks away, then caressed the satin-like skin of her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

Hadrian lowered his head, his forehead brushing hers ever so lightly. He had been naught but a fool. A gullible fool. Sirius would have a field day if he ever knew how oblivious he’d been.

Like his father and grandfather before, he was a Potter by blood. He knew deep within that, like his forefathers, he would love but once. It was every Potter’s destiny to fall instantly, irrevocably, irrationally in love and lose their hearts for always.

“Daphne….” He said hoarsely. “What are we doing?”

“I want you to trust me.’’ Her iridescent eyes pierced him expectantly. ‘’I want to share your burden.”

“You don’t have to.’’ The Quidditch-roughened pads of his fingers cupped her chin. “You’re dealing with so much as it is.”

Her eyes darkened with resolution and a faint smile lifted his lips. “What if I want to?”

“Then I’ll have no choice but to take whatever you offer.”  The sensations were so strong—so palpable—he could feel the Potter Magic raging with need.

No matter how strong he was, he was helpless against the onslaught. He cradled her against him and molded her body to his gently, savouring the exquisite sensation of her in his arms.

He wasn’t a novice. Far from it. But never before had his magic reacted so strongly to a witch.

“Be warned, though,” he said against her lips. “Once I take your hand, I will never let it go.”

She inhaled and closed her eyes, giving him a silent answer. At the first touch of her lips, he felt as though he’d been slammed in the chest with a Bludger. The hard shock of sensation washed over him, filling him with an intense yearning.

It felt so…right.

It was so right.

“I think this tournament would provide a good incentive for me to train harder,” Henry observed calmly, then gasped when Hermione stepped on his foot.

“This is not the right time for you to make jokes,” she said, narrowing her eyes furiously at him. “They brought Dragons, bloody Dragons to Hogwarts! You have to fight a bloody Dragon!”

“Er…are you cursing?” He snickered, his fingers moving through the wild locks of his hair.

“I’m tempted to curse you to oblivion,” she huffed, then snuggled closer, making sure the Invisibility Cloak hid them from prying eyes. He tried to drap his arm around her shaking shoulders. However, she stubbornly tugged free of his hold and glared at him.

“Why are you mad at me?” he sighed. “It isn't like I brought the Dragons or chose which Creature I have to fight.”

“You could’ve refused to participate,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You know I couldn’t. The contract is binding,” he tried—and by the look in her eyes failed to sound regretful.

“You are playing with fire.” Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “You know I‘ll support you unconditionally, even though it’s hard to stop myself from hexing you at times. “

Unable to hide his smirk, he pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head. He was a head taller than her now, which gave him no small amount of glee.

She blinked up at him so innocently, then looked away abruptly. He felt those little kitten claws digging into his chest again.

“Be careful,” she winced when the Hungarian Horntail let out a roar that made the ground shake under their feet, then bit her lower lip as Hagrid lowered his head on Madame Maxime’s shoulder.

“I’d rather fight a Dragon than spend another minute watching these two doing Merlin knows what,” he shuddered.

“You must be careful with what you wish for.” She pinched him on the side, but he heard the fear in her voice.

“Aw, shouldn’t you comfort me instead of abusing my poor body?” he pouted while his lips feathered over her forehead. “Even Ron and Neville, traitors that they are, have abandoned me.”

“They did not abandon you,” she rolled her eyes. “Ron has a detention with Snape and Neville is working on an extra assignment with Professor Sprout. He knows he has to work harder and show dedication if he wants to apprentice under her once he graduates.”

“At least you are here,” Henry said cheerfully.

Truth to be told, he was nervous. Harry asked him to take a look at the Dragons once he found out about them courtesy of Cassius.

Once he put the Invisibility Cloak over their heads and followed Hagrid and Madame Maxime, he braced himself for the fear that would come on the occasion when someone caught a glimpse of a Dragon. Even Harry looked worried when he relayed the news.

Only it didn’t.

For years, he’d tried to pretend he wasn’t different. He’d tried to explain. Tried to make everyone understand that he was not the Hero they thought him to be. However, as he took his training seriously, Henry noticed that his senses were sharper, his awareness was higher than that of his peers, his skill at observation and perception was keener, but that was not all. His Magical Core was bottomless. He felt the surge of power whenever he pushed himself beyond what his growing body could take. His magic had never failed him. It was always there for him; ready to do his bidding as long as he remained focused and determined.

He understood that he was indeed different. He knew now. He’d been blessed with the Potter Battle Magic … and something more he could not name yet.

It was that coldness that cloaked him whenever he thought he couldn’t take any more, whenever he wanted to give up and just surrender.

Strangely, that coldness did not bother him. It felt so familiar, like something he’d always known but had lost for years.

He shook his head, refocusing on the scene unfolding in front of him, then gagged.

“Maybe we should leave,” Hermione said demurely. She was trying hard not to giggle. However, her expressive eyes betrayed her.

“Yes. I should probably start looking for ways to subdue a Dragon.” He took her hand and started dragging her away.

“I’ll help you,” she said, lifting her chin, her eyes sparking dangerously. “Don’t forget that you’ll be competing against Wixen with a Mature Core.”

“But ‘Mione,” he winked. “I seldom play fair.” He smirked when her eyes widened. “It’s easier to play Death’s game again. It seems he has no intention of having me yet.”

Hermione gasped at his outrageous statement, but he was rather occupied. He swore he heard a faint cackle in the distance.

Chapter Text

‘’I wish they held a Triwizard Tournament in our days. I would’ve liked to test my magical ability against a nestling Dragon,” Sirius sighed pensively then blanched when Lily glared at him.

“Maybe we can convince the judges to have you compete instead of Henry and Hadrian. I’d like nothing more than to watch how you make it out of two nestling Dragons’ clutches. At once.”

James stared at him as if he had gone mad.

He drew a quick breath. “That would make no sense at all. I would be so unfairly outnumbered. And you’ll miss me, admit it. There is no point in denying the truth.”

Lily huffed and rolled her eyes. “Frankly, while I’ll miss your delightful company, your sense of humour and awful timing leave a lot to be desired.”

James gave a nervous chuckle. “There’s nothing to worry about, Lils. I talked to the boys and they’re ready.”

“I trust in my sons’ resourcefulness and ability to overcome challenges…” Lily trailed off miserably. “But this is so unfair. Henry should be here with us, watching his brother from the stands. He’s so young.”

“Trust your instincts.” James pulled her into his arms and kissed the crease between her brows. “Henry is a Potter. Hardly ever would a Potter turn down a challenge or, Merlin Forbid, give up without a fight. More importantly, his age is totally irrelevant. He’s way older than his years. We raised that brat well.”

Lily smiled fondly. “He grew up so fast.”

Her smile faded when she looked around. The stands were packed, and the was crowd talking excitedly, laughing and joking as if nothing was out of order. As if four young Wixen weren’t about to face Dragons.

The crowd erupted into applause when the first Champion emerged. Lily bit her lower lip and forced her expression to remain neutral. She would rather walk across burning coals than see her eldest son face a nestling Dragon. She dragged herself up to her feet and joined in the clapping.

“It seems I have no choice but to accept my children’s fate gracefully,” she exhaled.

“You should find some small consolation in the fact that they’re exceptional young men,” James boasted gustily before he kissed her forehead in a surge of desperation and pride. Lily knew him so well. He was trying  elaborately to hide his fear.

Lily’s gaze swept over the crowd, then flew wider when it settled on the Greengrass sisters. Heiress Daphne was hovering over her seat. Her anxious, icy-blue eyes darted to the Hungarian Horntail and she swallowed thickly.

Astoria gripped her hand and cradled it between hers. Lily’s gaze clashed with the youngest, and she stilled for a moment before a wry smile quirked her lips. Whatever Astoria saw in her face apparently amused her. With a slight bow of her head, she told her all she needed to know, though her expression remained perfectly neutral.

“They’re exceptional, indeed,” Lily snorted. “Why, they can even multitask in times of duress.”

James and Sirius looked at her questioningly. She opened her mouth, then apparently decided better of what she’d been about to say, pressed her lips tightly together, and grinned like a cat let into a dovecote.

Hadrian looked at Bagman with cool eyes. The man was testing his patience, which was a first considering he never ever shouted, cursed or allowed his emotions to get in the way of his control.

Yet, he was so tempted today.

He heard about the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports for the Ministry of Magic’s gambling problem. If the rumours were true, he was as good as done for one should never owe Goblins money—or worse yet, make them furious for that matter. They would track you down and strip you of everything you had on you. The poor man was about to be taught that lesson the hard way.

“Henry Potter! Merlin’s Beard,” Bagman grinned eagerly. “I cannot believe that a fourteen-year-old lad is about to make history. Do you need…” He trailed off when Henry looked him in the eye and extracted his wand from his arm holster.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mr Bagman,” he said evenly. “However, I’d like to have a moment alone with my brother to review some spells.”

“And I would appreciate it if you didn't touch my brother. Ever. Without his permission. Please do understand.” Hadrian’s voice was firm, resolute and unbending. “I thank you for your confidence in Henry’s ability and for supporting him. Truly.” The last words came as a flagrant lie, just as he intended.

For years, he watched Henry struggle to steer people away from him. To make them let him be. Henry. Just Henry. Which annoyed him endlessly.

British Wixen were a nosy lot with little respect for boundaries and personal space. If he had to chose between people’s opinions and his family’s welfare, he had already chosen. His loyalty lay first and foremost with his family.

Bagman cleared his throat. “Very well. Now that all Champions are here, I believe it’s time to fill you in.”

Henry snorted and murmured under his breath. “Like, we'd wait for him to enlighten us. We would be as good as dead by then.”

Bagman held a shiny bag and shook it. “In this bag, there is a small model of the Creature you are about to face. One for each Champion. Oh, and you have to collect a golden egg each. It will give you the clue for the Second Task. Let’s begin with  mademoiselle Delacour.”

Mademoiselle Delacour put her hand inside the bag and drew a perfect model of a Welsh Green. Predictably, she displayed no sign of surprise.

“Good choice, Mademoiselle Delacour. Good choice,” Bagman said brightly. “You are in luck today.”

He offered the bag to Krum next. He pulled out a scarlet Chinese Fireball and stared at it without blinking before putting it in his pocket.

Hadrian looked at Henry who seemed calm. Only the Swedish Short-Snout and the Hungarian Horntail remained. He didn’t need to think to know which one he wanted to have.

He put his hand into the enchanted bag and let his magic guide him, looking for the fiercest Dragon. He closed his fingers around the tiny model. He wasn’t disappointed when he pulled out the Hungarian Horntail. The Dragon looked at him, bared its sharp fangs, and stretched its pitch-black wings.

Henry leveled him with an exasperated mock-glare as he withdrew the Swedish Short-Snout and mouthed a ‘Thank you.’ However, the depths of his hazel eyes kindled with determination as he studied his model.

Even though the Hungarian Horntail was one of the most dangerous Dragons known to Wizardkind, the Swedish Short-Snout was not to be underestimated. He prayed that Henry stuck to the plan and didn’t try something foolish.

“Er…there you are,” Bagman mopped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. “Mr Hadrian Potter-Black, you’re first. Please go out into the enclosure when you hear the whistle. I wish you all good luck.”

He licked his lips, halted for a moment as his gaze volleyed between him and Henry then thought better of it, shook his head and left in a hurry.

“What a strange man,” Henry frowned.

Hadrian nodded. “Make sure he doesn’t corner you when you are alone. I believe he’s after something.”

“He reminds me of Lockhart."

Hadrian clasped his shoulder and whispered. “I have to leave now. Be careful, and don’t relax your guard. You know too well the sort of danger taking your opponent lightly will engender.”

“I understand.” Henry looked extremely alert. “Be careful too.”

“I will, brat,” he ruffled his wild, dark curls, knowing how much the action nettled him.

When he heard the whistle, he stilled and prepared his mind for what was about to come. Gracefully, he stood up and walked out through the entrance of the tent.

A holy agglomeration of cheers, shouts and clapping erupted as he emerged. Hundreds of familiar and unfamiliar faces stared at him expectantly.

He swept his gaze over the crowd and smiled at his parents. His gaze then went to the part of the stands occupied by his Housemates. Sensing steady eyes on him, he looked in her direction and his smile widened slightly.

The depths of Daphne’s frosty eyes were swirling with concern. His chest moved as he inhaled deeply. He hated seeing her like that. He, of all people, wasn’t supposed to add to her worries. He tilted his head to the side and watched with satisfaction as she immediately blushed, her eyes widening adorably. ‘Trust me,’ he eyes said. He knew she received the message when she put her hand over her heart and smiled.

Reluctantly, he dragged his attention back to the Dragon.

The audience wanted a show, and a show displaying the Ministry’s stupidity was exactly what he planned to give them.

The Hungarian Horntail was a majestic Creature. It looked at him warily with huge golden eyes, its wings going instinctively around its eggs, trying to hide them from prying eyes.

Hadrian fumed inwardly. How dare the organization committee endanger the lives of several unborn hatchlings for a meaningless tournament? It went against everything they were taught as children. Magical Creatures were precious and to be protected at all costs.

Carelessly, aimed his wand at the air and wordlessly, conjured a silver box. He heard several indrawn breaths of surprise.

Conjuration was a distinguished branch of Transfiguration and the hardest according to scholars. Maybe harder than Vanishment. Only a few managed to conjure small objects from thin air. Conjuring metals was exceptional. Nevertheless, the gathered fools needed a little reminder. He was a Potter and House Potter had given birth to High Masters of Transfiguration for eons. It wasn’t a mere coincidence that his grandfather, father and brother were the best in the subject.

Even though he seldom exhibited his talent in Transfiguration and was considered the best Duellist Hogwarts had seen in decades, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t as good as his predecessors.

He sought his father’s face, and warmth washed over him when he read approval and pride in his expressive eyes.

The same couldn’t be said for Dumbledore. Advanced classes had been removed from Hogwarts curriculum fifty years ago. It was sad and ludicrous that Dumbledore thought taking away crucial knowledge and robbing talented witches and wizards of their right to be taught and nurtured would obliterate all chances for another Dark Lord to emerge.

Knowledge was power, and Dumbledore did nothing during his reign but make them weak and vulnerable.

“Here goes nothing,” he sighed when the Dragon bared its fangs in alert. It trashed its spiky tail as its narrowed eyes followed him.

“I mean you no harm,” he whispered. “Let’s teach them a lesson. Together.”

When it released a jet of fire, he smirked. “Or maybe I’ll do it alone. It doesn’t seem like you are in a good mood today.”

Swiftly, he moved his wand again and conjured a huge golden harp. The strings started moving as soon as he muttered the incantation under his breath. He found it in the advanced Enchantment book Arcturus gifted him for his last birthday. Sometimes, the old man was too perceptive for his peace of mind.

The crowd started making a great deal of noise after the surprise wore off, entirely and absolutely absorbed in what he was doing.

It seemed they understood what he was after.

The Dragon’s eyelids started dropping heavily. Most Creatures could not resist enchanted musical instruments. As the harmonious melody flew pleasantly, Hadrian accioed all the eggs but the golden one and carefully directed them to the box he had conjured earlier. As soon as he was done, he closed it and levitated it to the judges' table. With all the gentleness he could master, he dropped it in the centre.

The judges’ reactions varied from narrowed eyes, to widened eyes to clenched jaws. Karkaroff lifted his glass grudgingly and nodded at him in a blatant gesture of respect.

He was undoubtedly enjoying Dumbledore’s distress, knowing that he had prohibited all branches of advanced magic.

The Dragon was snoring by the time he was done with his work. Unbothered by the danger it still presented, Hadrian returned his wand to his arm holster and walked languidly towards the Creature, ignoring the shouts and screams of the audience.

Accidentally, the Dragon released a jet of flame. He raised his hand, thinking: ‘Glacio’.

The frozen flame fall to the ground. He seized the golden egg, ran a gentle hand over the Dragon’s glossy scales, and walked unhurriedly to the entrance of the enclosure, where Madam Pomfrey was waiting for him with a frown.

“Merlin’s Mercy, Potter-Black...”

Hadrian bowed respectfully to the Senior Healer. “Thank you for your concern, Madam Pomfrey but I assure you, I am unhurt.”

And neither was the Dragon hurt like he intended.

The same couldn’t be said for the judges’ pride. Well, they were supposed to set a good example for the younger generation.

Not that he particularly cared. He was rather preoccupied with Henry’s performance, which would start soon.

Chapter Text

As soon as Hadrian disappeared from view, Daphne’s gaze went to the judges, her heart still pounding hard in her chest.

Hadrian’s performance had been...exhilarating.

The noise of the crowd was deafening. They wouldn’t stop screaming and applauding loudly.

Astoria smiled teasingly, her tiny, heart-shaped face dominated by her bright eyes. “My brother-in-law is the best. Look at Dumbledore’s face; I bet he’s not pleased at all.”

Daphne didn’t reply. She waited, her eyes riveted on the judges, who seemed to be in deep thought.

The silver box Hadrian conjured sat at the middle of their table like a statement. His larger than life presence, nature flair for Transfiguration and fearlessness had attracted every eye to him. What made his performance more compelling was how controlled he seemed while publicly humiliating all those who had organized the Tournament. He wasn’t boasting or displaying his power; he was merely sending a message.

Madame Maxime raised her wand first, and a silver ribbon burst off it, taking the shape of a perfect ten.

“Ha!” Astoria clapped smugly.

Lord Baldwin Burke, the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, shot another ten next and the crowd cheered harder.

Mr Ludo Bagman shot a ten.

“Hadrian!” Astoria clapped excitedly.

High Master Igor Karkaroff looked sideways at Dumbledore, and then, a nine shot out of his wand.

“What a biased bastard!” Astoria bellowed in indignation. “Let’s see how much you’ll give Krum!”

“Astoria,” she said, compressing her lips. “Language.”

The little troublemaker muttered more profanities under her breath as they waited for Dumbledore to give Hadrian a mark. It was another ten.

It was clear that the jovial smile on his face was something he did not feel. Probably because it was clear that Hadrian didn’t share most of Magical Britain’s views. Adoration for Albus Dumbledore did not course through his veins simply because the man wasn’t infallible.

“I expected that,” Astoria said gruffly. “He can’t denounce his Champion.”

Daphne’s mouth quirked, but only for a moment. “I believe I shall go now.”

“Of course,” she said dryly. “You would be wise to hurry up, unless you want Lady Potter to catch you in a compromising position.”

Daphne glared at her sister. Clearly, she wasn’t going to make this any easier for her.

Swiftly, she left her seat and headed toward the tent. She wasn’t surprised when she found Hadrian waiting for her outside. He had a relaxed posture, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. She knew he was an Aura Sentient, even though he wasn’t as powerful as Heir Cassius Warrington.

Sweet Salazar, whenever he offered her that small, secret smile, she felt that same funny flutter in her stomach and jump in her pulse. It was even worse standing so close to him.

Never had she been so acutely aware of another wizard’s presence as she was aware of his. He unnerved her. Made her feel nervous. Discombobulated. Flush with feelings she couldn’t yet fully decipher. She wanted to move closer. Put her hand on his chest and feel the strength of his heartbeat underneath. Have his magic always around. Stare at his face and memorize every perfect angle, every line…everything. And every single time he held her in his arms, she felt a profuse sense of safety and security. As if nothing could possibly harm her ever again with him holding her

It was outrageous to the point of ridiculous, and what made it worse, was that she didn’t mind. Not in the least. These new feelings were heady, exciting, and welcome

“You did well, congratulations,” she said.

He nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s good to hear that my performance met your approval, Heiress Greengrass.”

He looked around, making sure they had privacy, then stopped right in front of her, perhaps a step too close. She tried to look nonchalant but failed. “It did.”

He reached down and caressed her cheek. The gentleness of his touch made her heart catch, as did the sharp pang of yearning that hit her. No one, but her parents and Astoria, had ever treated her with so much tenderness. As if she were a delicate flower. She wasn't, according to most; she was the Ice Queen.

Heat rose to her cheeks when he smirked, as if he were reading her thoughts, which was highly possible. But she didn’t look away.

“You were worried.” His said roughly. There was something gentle and husky in his voice that she didn’t understand. As if the concept of people getting worried about his welfare was foreign.

“Of course I was,” she clutched his arm, instinctively moving closer to him. “You had to face a nestling Mother Dragon.”

He shook his head and hugged her tightly. Despite the crazy hammering of her heart, she enjoyed the moment of peace thoroughly. “Thank you,” he said. “But trust that I have no plans to put myself in harm’s way. I knew better than to take gambles with my life.”

“Is this your Black half talking?” she snorted. “No wonder, you are a Slytherin.”

He eased his hold, leaned down and gave her a kiss. Daphne melted against him and opened her mouth to his with a sigh and a moan. His arms slid possessively around her and she surrendered as he molded her more tightly against him.

Magic exploded between them in a shimmering wave of light that almost blinded her. Her heart raced, her skin flushed and every part of her tingled.

His dark, silky hair caressed her face as he lifted his head. Unable to resist, she threaded her fingers through the soft waves, gently putting them back into place.

He held her gaze the entire time, not daring to look away or break the powerful connection that had risen between them.

He smirked when she looked at him questioningly, her cheeks tinted pink and her composure in complete disarray. “We have company. I believe it is Mother.”

Her eyes widened and he smiled as he bent to brush her soft cheek with a perfunctory kiss.

“Am I interrupting something?” Lady Lily Potter asked, amused. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Daphne.”

“I was going to join you,” Hadrian replied casually. “Henry’s turn is soon.”

“Merry Meet, Lady Potter,” Daphne said, holding to her composure and trying to ignore the sparks of humour in the emerald depths of Lily’s eyes.

“I told you to call me Lily, my dear,” her lips twitched. “I believe that you and I will have so much to talk about in the future. You can call it a mother’s intuition.”

“Mother,” Hadrian sighed. “Let’s head to the stands. I have to watch Henry’s performance.”

“Of course.” Lily grinned at him. “I’m afraid you’ve missed Mademoiselle Delacour’s performance. It wasn’t as delightful as yours, but let’s just say she was not as lucky as you. It the hazards of wearing a skirt.”

“I hope no serious harm has come to her,” Daphne managed to say.

“No. She is unhurt,” Lily assured her.

Hadrian looked at her pointedly, and she took his offered arm. He cocked a brow, waiting for his mother.

Lily clucked affectionately. “I’ll head back first. I want to find out if Mr Krum will offer us a show worthy of a Durmstrang senior student.”

Hadrian shrugged. “Maybe he will. Either way, all I care about is Henry’s show.”

She exchanged a look with Lily. Understanding passed between the two witches’ as they heard each other’s unsaid words.

‘Hadrian cares so much about his family.’

‘I know. I care about mine, too and I do respect him for that.’

‘That’s good to know.’

Henry walked past the trees until he reached the stands.

Truth be told, he hated waiting. He wasn’t blessed with Hadrian’s patience. Maybe it was a Black trait? Either way, he hated every moment he spent confined to the tent, hearing Bagman’s annoying commentaries and the crowd’s gasps, roars and screams.

He noticed that Hadrian was the fastest to get his egg, which wasn’t surprising considering he used Advanced Conjuration.

He wasn’t there yet, but with time and the right amount of training, he would surpass his father and his brother.

Wickedness flashed in his eyes when he remembered Harry’s advice: Play on your strengths.

Obviously, he had no plans to give a half-hearted performance. Even though he did not want to take part in the Triwizard Tournament, he had accepted his fate and insisted on competing, knowing how much his family abhorred his decision.

Maybe it was his Potter pride, but refusing a challenge went every fibre in his body. Voldemort was taunting him and he was no longer the eleven-year-old green lad. He was ready—or at least, he liked to think he was.

“And here comes Mr Henry Potter,” Bagman shouted. “For those who didn’t know, the Fourth Champion is fourteen years old, three years younger than the other contestants.” Henry rolled his eyes while the irksome man ranted. “But let me tell you that we have a very daring young man here. Even though he had proved his innocence, he refused to back down. I cannot wait to see what the younger Potter has in store for us.”

He stood, impaled by excitement and fear and a myriad of other warring emotions, as he studied the Dragon. He felt more aware of his magic than usual.

It was a mighty creature, indeed. The Swedish Short-Snout had beautiful silvery-blue scales. He knew that he was highly sought after for the use of its hide in protective armours and boots. The Dragon crouched lower over its clutch of eggs as he approached. It gave him a sharp glare and released a jet of brilliant blue fire.

“How lovely,” Henry gave up a huff. His gaze wandered to the stands as he flicked his wand. His father and Sirius were looking at him with worry and anticipation in their eyes. His gaze slid next to his mother. She stared back with narrowed eyes, as if she knew he was about to do something he knew she wouldn’t approve of.

Well, his mother knew him too well.

When he looked at Hermione, her scowl grew darker. She had futilely tried for weeks to find out how he planned to tackle this hurdle. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her. He trusted her fully. However, he gave Harry an oath that he would not reveal his secret gift yet and like every Potter, he would rather die than break an oath.

“I stalled enough as it is,” he sighed. “Forgive me, Hermione. I’ll make it up to you later, I promise. Unless you kill me first.”

He erected a Silencing Ward around the arena first, making sure that whatever exchange he had with the Dragon remained private. It took him months and a lot of time studying Ancient Runes to hone his skills in warding, but it was worth it. No wonder his mother was overly fond of the subject. It was very useful.

He inhaled sharply and tapped on that obscure part of his core he rarely touched. A smoldering, peat fire started in his veins as he looked at the Dragon’s bright eyes. They resembled flames.

~Greetings, mighty Mother Dragon.~ He bowed his head in respect.

“Merlin’s Beard!” Bagman bellowed. “Mr Potter is standing before the Dragon doing nothing. I’m not sure that’s wise. Swedish Short-Snouts are very unpredictable creatures. One wrong step and they will reduce your flesh and bones to ashes.”

“Not mine,” he muttered under his breath. “Hopefully.”

The Dragon unfurled its wings and regarded him with bright eyes. ~Speaker?~

~I am.~ He bobbed his head. ~I can speak Parseltongue. I did some research and found out that Basilisks and Dragons have the same ancestor. I mean you no harm, Mother Dragon.~

He winced when the Dragon whipped its tail and opened its jaw wide. ~We have nothing in common with Basilisks! How dare you compare us to worms? It is Dragonese. We speak the tongue of the Great Dragon Kilgharrah; Merlin’s Familiar.~

Henry blinked then nodded. Good Godric, he was arguing with a Dragon instead of working to get the Golden Egg.

~I apologize for my lack of knowledge.~ He gazed at the Dragon with wide, innocent eyes. ~Not much is known about your kind.~

The Dragon huffed, releasing another jet of fire from its nostrils. ~We like to keep our whereabouts to ourselves. Wizardkind are not worthy.~

~I wholeheartedly agree;~ he took another step forward. ~Look what these dunderheads have done. They dragged you here from Romania for a stupid tournament. They tried to fool a Mighty Dragon, thinking you would not notice. Look at the Golden Egg. It’s not yours.~ He added with wide-eyed concern. ~I don’t think it’s wise to put something of so little value next to your future hatchlings.~

The Dragon’s eyes followed his and it roared with outrage. Between its front legs, the Golden Egg was residing insouciantly.

~You are right, Speaker. I feel no trace of malice or dishonor in your magic which couldn’t be said for most of your kind.~

Henry nodded and smiled in relief. ~Me and my brother think the same. They should never have brought you here and endangered your hatchlings.~

There was a knowing glint in the Dragon’s eyes as it lowered its head. ~Do you want to take the worthless egg?~

Henry held back a victorious laugh. ~I do.~

The Dragon bared its huge fangs. ~It’s been a while since I had a chat with a wizard. Do you need anything else before we part ways, Speaker?~

Henry had to force himself not to pump his fist in the air. Whoever thought that he was a little kitten in the jaws of a wolf was so mistaken.

He looked at Harry and winked. The latter seemed exasperated. Nevertheless, he offered him a fleeting smile. It wasn’t easy trying to surprise someone who picked up on every nuance, noticed every detail, and sensed everything around him. Harry knew him so well. And he knew how much he loved flying.

~If it is no trouble, I’d like to have a ride. On your back,~ he asked pleasantly.

When the Dragon looked at its eggs, he rushed to add. ~I’ll set a ward around the eggs. No one will touch them until you are back. I swear on my magic.~

His voice trailed off when the Dragon reared, spreading its magnificent wings and rising to its towering height. He craned his neck up as he waited.

~Very well, Speaker.~

He closed the space between them and ran a hand over the Dragon’s smooth scales, his body bristling with excitement.

~I shall give you a once-in-a-lifetime gift, honourable Speaker.~

The last thing he heard before the Dragon took off with a huge spurt of speed was Bagman’s scream. “Merlin’s Mercy! Not the younger Potter, too! He tamed a Dragon! Circe, a fourteen year old wizard just tamed a Dragon before our eyes!”

Chapter Text

Crimson lips curled in the faintest of smiles as the cloaked figure moved deeper into the shadows to further mask her identity, though her cover had never been jeopardized in the seventy-nine years of her existence.

It was simply not done.

Her silver grey eyes—the same colour as her hair glinted with amusement. Dumbledore looked like he needed someone to recite his last rites. She would gladly volunteer; only, she had better things to do. Not to mention, she did not care about outsiders—and people in general bar a select few.

There was an adorable little upturn to Arcturus’ lips when he joined her. “So?” he said. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Most definitely. The afternoon has been rather productive,” she drawled.

His mouth fell into a hard line. “I have to disagree. This tournament is but a testament to how lacking the Ministry is. Bringing nestling Mother Dragons to a school brimming with untrained brats is blasphemous.” His eyes turned frosty when he looked at the judges. “They endangered my Heir and the Peverell Heir’s lives.”

“So you know?” she smirked, cheekily feigning innocence.

Her dearest cousin scoffed. “As if you don’t, Cassiopeia. It is what brought you back in the first place. That child had been marked by Death since his first Samhain, it is a matter of time before Death demands his due.”

“It is indeed,” she raised one fine brow. “That child is more than what meets the eye. He speaks the tongue of the Serpent Lord. Strangely, the shard of soul that latched on him that fateful night is getting weaker every passing day. It no longer belongs fully to Voldemort.”

“We cannot bargain with the child’s life, Cassiopeia,” Arcturus’ eyes narrowed. “I came to see him as another grandson. Most importantly, would something happen to him, Hadrian would be lost to the Black Madness. At times, I feel his control stretching to the limit.”

Cassiopeia stared owlishly at the older Black. “No wonder he was the one to bring you back from exile. You are so alike. Losing Melania almost broke you. Only knowing that the family still needs you stopped you from embracing Death.”

Arcturus looked suddenly tired. “I have never wanted any of this for Fleamont’s children.”

“Maybe,” she tilted her head to the side and watched as the Greengrass Heiress whispered something to Hadrian. When he looked down at her, she blushed profusely.

Ah, young love….

How sickeningly sweet.

“However, we know that nothing we do can stop what the Fates have in store for them. The Crouch brat was doomed to failure from the start. No one leaves Azkaban unscathed. Voldemort was a fool to send him.”

Arcturus subtly stiffened. “We have to act fast, then. We cannot allow him to gain his full power.”

She clucked her tongue in exasperation and retrieved something from her pocket. “Why do you think I came here today? You know me, I avoid public gathering like Dragon Pox. People are undeserving of my precious time.”

Arcturus watched questioningly for a moment. His brows lifted a little in self-mockery when he recognized the item she was holding.

“I believe I’ve been short-sighted. And here I was thinking that your talents were turning rusty.”

She tilted her chin higher, making certain her face showed what she thought of his statement. “You should be cognizant of the service I’m doing the family by agreeing to help, Arcturus Sirius Black. I must admit, though, that Tom Riddle is unfairly talented. How did he come into possession of the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw? I might never know. And then, he surprised me yet again and hid it in the most unexpected place. I wonder how Dumbledore never sensed the Forbidden Magic in his school.”

Arcturus snorted. “He’s a senile fool. He should take his responsibilities more seriously instead of plotting and trying to force his will on everyone.”

“You don’t say,” she said sarcastically. “But then, it’s all for the greater good.”

Well, there was no greater good. Only her family’s good mattered and going by what she managed to accomplish so far, Cassiopeia Eladora Black was a very happy woman. In the span of a year, she had managed to destroy five Horcruxes.

Seven was the most magical number, and someone as well versed in Obscure Magic as Tom Marvolo Riddle must know that. The number Seven was the ultimate completeness, the union of the physical and the spiritual; the body and the soul.

As such, only two Horcruxes remained. Plus the wayward soul shard in Henry’s scar.

Perfect…

Henry sighed in frustration. “She seems like a very agreeable, lovely young lady. So collected and smart until I do something she doesn’t approve of, and she starts screeching like a Banshee. Why is it so hard to understand her?”

To say that Hermione’s reaction to the First Task was cataclysmic would be an understatement. His poor ears were still ringing thanks to her screaming.

When he rushed to her after he received his scores, eager to hear what she thought of his performance, she gave him a rather thorough lecture on the dangers of getting close a nestling Mother Dragon—well, to a class XXXXX Creature in general—and then proceeded to shout, calling him all kinds of names: brat, ruthless, bloody fool… After they were done with the name-calling, she stared him in annoyance, ignored his attempts to apologize—not that he regretted the experience—or explain himself, shooed him away and joined his mother, knowing he would never go there thanks to the daggers Lily’s eyes were sending his way. He shivered just remembering the look she gave him when he headed their way.

Neville looked at him in pity, while Ron muttered: ‘She’s barmy.’ Under his breath.

“I mean, I know they way I dealt with my Dragon was unconventional, but this is a once in a lifetime chance. I couldn’t let it slip through my fingers. She knows how much I love flying. Why can’t she understand?”

He raked a hand thorough his unruly hair and let a frustrated breath out. He knew he was acting like a petulant child, but he didn’t care. He needed to get the words off his chest.

Was he a glutton for punishment? He slid lower in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. No matter how much she yelled at him, he couldn’t stay away. He wanted to be wrapped in the warmth Hermione’s presence gave, to cling to her and find more of the solace only she could offer.

She was not only his best friend, she was among the select few who treated him like a regular fourteen-year-old boy and not the Saviour or the Boy Who Lived. She had no problem calling him an idiot, knocking him over, standing up to him and telling him exactly what she thought.

“My poor son,” James blinked at him so innocently, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.  “You deserve more than to be yelled at after your hard labour.”

“Henry,” Hadrian said, unable to hide his smirk. “Were you paying attention to every word she said?”

“Of course,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Did she once ask you how you managed to talk the Dragon into giving you a ride?” Hadrian asked lightly but Henry knew his brother so well. He could almost see the workings of his mind. Hadrian was a mastermind when it came to dealing with people. He spoke little, sometimes feigned disinterest but he listened to every word and analyzed it minutely.

“No, she just—‘’ His eyes widened with astonishment as understanding washed over him.

“She knows. Hermione is a very bright witch, nothing escapes her notice.” James took a sip of his fine Elvin Wine, looking around as if nothing was out of sorts. The Golden Cauldron was more crowded than usual. Students from the three schools were chatting animatedly with their friends and relatives who came from all over Europe to check on them. Either way, it couldn’t be as crowded as Brews & Stews Café or the Three Broomsticks.

When he asked his father for a meeting this Hogsmeade Visit, he didn’t plan for Hadrian to tag along. Not that he minded getting advice from his older brother. Something kept nagging at the back of his mind from the moment Professor McGonagall announced the Yule Ball then—not so subtly threatened him with bodily harm if he dared bring shame to House Gryffindor or, Merlin Forbid, dared show up without a date.

Henry wasn’t one to shy away from public gatherings, even though he loathed attention. He didn’t shy away from anything. Lily swore he took after his father. Open and outgoing, he spoke his mind with the confidence that came only from a lifetime of being cherished, heard and encouraged. It was just the way he was raised.

A single word erupted into his head the moment Professor McGonagall confronted him: Hermione, and he hadn’t been the same since.

He hesitated, not sure how to voice his thoughts. “But she made sure no one suspected a thing. In fact, she changed the subject whenever someone asked what went between me and the Dragon after I set the Silencing Ward.”

From James’ expression, he coul tell he was enjoying every bit of this conversation. “And?”

“She’s been trying to protect me since first year. Hermione…” he said, shaking his head. “She doesn’t deal well with pressure; that’s why she lashes out whenever I put myself in danger.”

“It’s her way of showing how much she cares,” James said, tilting his head, a tiny smile appearing on his lips. “What would you do if the roles were reserved?”

Henry didn’t say anything, but all of a sudden, the answer seemed to come to him. He gasped, the expression on his face giving him away.

Hadrian clapped him on the back and gave him a nod of encouragement. “It seems you know whom you want to escort to the Yule Ball. You don’t need to look for a date.”

“But—I mean, she’s Hermione…She’s…”

“Your best friend?” James burst out laughing at last. “You don’t know how lucky you are, son. You don’t know half the hell Lils put me through before she accepted my courtship.” He shuddered, even though his expression was dreamy, reflecting fond memories.

With a start, Henry realized that he was indeed attracted to his best friend—had always been. Her fierce loyalty and determination had won his respect, and then came her intelligence and protectiveness.

He bit down on his lip to hide his smile. He would never admit it, he liked the way her eyes narrowed at him whenever he embraced his Marauder side and kept his father and uncles’ legacy alive.

She was ablaze with an unquenchable fire he was irresistibly drawn to.

“We, Potters, are helpless,” James smiled, a slow, predatory smile. “Call it our family curse, but no Potter can resist the call of his heart. Our hearts will always guide us to the one we will love till death and beyond.”

One of Hadrian’s dark brows lifted as he looked at his father. “A warning would’ve been most appreciated, Father.”

James smirked at them and grinned cheekily. “True, but there would be fun in that. Experience is the best teacher.”

Daphne sighed with exasperation. “I told you two hours ago that he hasn’t asked me to the Yule Ball yet. In case you forgot, it was announced three days ago and won’t take place till the end of the month.”

“Why is it that guys incapable of acting swiftly?” Astoria whined. “And here I was thinking that my future brother-in-law is an exception.”

“Didn’t you say he’s the best when he helped you with your Charms assignment earlier?” She quelled the need to roll her eyes. They were heading towards the library, so her mask was tightly in place.

“Well, he’s good with Magical Theory and I appreciate that. Only a few grasp the importance of Spell Crafting and the understanding of how magic works. That being said, he shouldn’t assume you will go with him to the Yule Ball just because you are seeing each other. He hasn’t sent a formal Courting Request to Father yet.”

“Maybe because he’s rather busy with the Tournament, and we haven’t been dating for long,” Daphne said in the tone of one capitulating to a demanding child. “I trust Hadrian, and I won’t go to the Yule Ball if not with him.”

“That’s good to hear, Daphne.” An amused voice echoed behind her.

Her body stiffened because she could recognize that voice anywhere. It was hard to mistake that voice for another. Hadrian’s voice was calm and hypnotizing. It sent a shiver down her spine.

“Astoria…” She glared at the smug younger girl, her voice carrying the full depth of what she thought of her sister’s manipulations.

“I saw Hadrian heading our way, and I wanted to confirm things with you.” The little brat cocked her lips to one side and grinned at her as though she could not understand what she did. “Oh, I’m late! Luna and Colin should be waiting for me. See you later. Have fun.” She adjusted her bag over her shoulder, hugged her, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed Hadrian on the cheek, then ran as fast as her short legs could carry her.

“Traitor,” Daphne muttered under her breath.

“Astoria is a delight to have around,” Hadrian said fondly. Daphne’s heart twisted. Yes, she was. Even though she was a pain in the arse most of the time.

“Would you like to go somewhere else?” He asked.

She blinked questioningly but tucked her arm through his, all the while ignoring their gawking audience.

Even though they weren’t hiding their relationship, they seldom displayed affection in public. Hadrian, like her, wasn’t fond of that, and she appreciated him more for it. Whatever was blooming between them was private and solely theirs. She had no intention of sharing it with strangers. Hogwarts gossip mill had no business prying.

The weather was cool in the Green House. Daphne inhaled deeply, then waited.

“I don’t want to disappoint Astoria, her opinion matters a lot.” Hadrian put his hands on her waist, and she complied, easing closer.

“Is that the only reason you are about to ask me to the Yule Ball?” she asked, a soft, wondering smile in the hoarse whisper.

His eyes bore into hers; the cool green was so brilliant it appeared to be throwing off sparks. Sometimes, she noticed the silver striations that bled into the emerald green, making them more bewitching. A lock of hair fell across his forehead. It cast a dark stripe of shadow across his chiseled face. His expression was mischievous, and his voice dropped to a whisper when he answered. “I promised Astoria I would make you happy, and I never go back on my word. But that’s only the second reason why I intend to escort you to the ball.”

Daphne’s heart pounded so furiously, but she forced herself to cock a brow up. “Is that so?”

All her life, all that mattered was her family. Everyone had been impressed with her ability to solve problems and maintain a level head.

But Hadrian Potter-Black had always flustered her. Since the first time she met him four years ago, every time he came near, her heart pounded, her hands shook, and her senses reeled. He alone knocked her off keel and sent her magic careening out of control.

All these years, she had yearned for some acknowledgment from him. Some sign that she wasn’t invisible, and now that she was the centre of his attention, she was not certain she could handle that, no matter how much she might want to pretend otherwise.

He placed his lips on her knuckles, before lifting her hand against his chest. He stared at her face, and she basked in the fierce tenderness of his gaze. “Heiress Daphne Greengrass, would you give me the honour of escorting you to the Yule Ball?”

Her voice shook slightly when she answered. “I’d like that, Heir Potter-Black.”

At once, she was overwhelmed by the feeling of his strong, beautiful lips on hers as his arms wrapped about her, pulling her closer to his chest. It was better than even her sweetest dreams. And her entire body thrummed with the rush of excitement and completion.

Her breath mingled with his when he lifted his head and dropped his forehead against hers. He produced a small red box from his pocket and lifted the upper lid.

Daphne gasped. There, lying on velvet, was a single flower made of crystal. When she traced its delicate petals with her forefinger, she noticed it was cool to the touch.

“Is it….” She stared at him.

“Yes,” Hadrian kissed her forehead. “It is made of ice. I conjured it, then looked for a spell for Permanent Enchantment. You don’t have to worry, it will not melt."

Her heartbeat stuttered when she asked in a small voice. “Why ice?”

Hadrian’s eyes were determined and sincere when he answered. “I know that the name ‘Ice Queen’ Bothers you at times. You are anything but cold. But then, ice is beautiful. Its stillness and serenity heightens the senses and makes everything even more inspiring. It’s filled with wonders and eternal beauty. Like this flower. Like you, Daphne.”

Tears gathered behind her eyes, the emotions of the past years catching up to her. He was the only one to notice how much the moniker bothered her.

When he took her into his arms, she clung to him.

It was a moment of heavenly bliss.

Who would give up on a Hadrian Potter-Black? If she lived to be a thousand years old, she would forever cherish his first Courting Gift.

Chapter Text

Astoria hadn’t realized how much time she’d spent snooping on Daphne and Hadrian and making sure that her sister gave her the brother-in-law she wanted until the Yule Ball was upon them. Missing it was out of the question. Unfortunately, the ball was open to students in the fourth year and above. A bloody dumb rule, if she might say so. But Wixen were thickheaded, so she shouldn’t be surprised.

Either way, she had no intention of remaining in her room while more than half of Hogwarts population enjoyed a night to remember.

Even the Blood Malediction hadn't stopped her from living her life to the fullest and rejoicing in every pleasure she could get her hands on. No rules set by people she didn’t care about could stop her from doing what she wanted.

“And I have to make sure that no one ruins the night for Daphne,” she said demurely, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “The Yule Ball will be her first formal appearance together with Hadrian.”

“If you say so,” Luna answered airily, her unfocused eyes going over the latest edition of the Quibbler. “Draco Malfoy is heading our way if you need to speak to him.”

Astoria tilted her head to the side, her smile lingering. “As it happens, I do. I’ve been looking for him. Thank you for the help, Luna. You are the best friend I could ever ask for.”

“Colin should be waiting for me,” Luna adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “And Theo Nott needs a date for the Yule Ball as well.”

At once, Astoria’s crafty mind started sorting through strategies to solve their problem.

Luna was a good friend, and she deserved to enjoy the ball too. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She winked.

Finally, adopting an expression of serenity, she crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

Unsurprisingly, Draco Malfoy took his sweet time to get there. She tapped her foot on the ground. Once. Twice. Daphne would chide her for acting in such an unlady like manner, but she was past the point of caring.

Puzzled, Draco stilled when she barred his way. The Fates were definitely on her side for the corridor was deserted, and she had her prey where she wanted him.

“Good evening, Heir Malfoy.”

Uncertain whether to frown or smile, he regarded her curiously. “Miss Greengrass….”

She leaned against the wall and studied him lazily, relishing in the way his silver-blue eyes widened. His eyes were pretty to tell the truth.

“I need your help.” The smile tarried on her lips. “And I believe that, being a gentleman, you will offer it.”

He brushed away a stray blond lock that had miraculously fallen over his forehead and frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why do you need my help, Miss Greengrass? I mean no offense, but why don't you ask your sister or…Hadrian? I can hardly do better than them.” He couldn’t help asking.

“Because, as it happens, they can’t help me with my predicament,” she shrugged. “And you are the best candidate for this job.”

Befuddled and entirely wary, Draco cleared his throat. “I would offer my help, of course, if it would come to the aid of a Housemate. We Slytherins should stick together.” Came his prosaic reply.

Astoria smirked. His Malfoy pride would be his undoing. She knew he was her best option when she decided to have him take her to the Yule Ball.

Unlike the rumours she heard before starting Hogwarts about the Malfoy Heir, he wasn’t an obnoxious git.

Surely, he took great pride in his family name that he probably had no right to feel considering who his father was. But he was more Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy than Lucius.

Her father was privy to Lord Malfoy’s shady past and the lengths he had to go to in order to avoid being linked to Voldemort. Draco was his own man, which was a delightful revelation. He seemed determined to succeed and prove all those who had underestimated him—or accused him of relying on his father’s name and power to get what he wanted—wrong.

“Exactly,” she started with the slightest arch of one brow. “That’s what Hadrian taught us. Does that mean you will take me to the Yule Ball? I really want to go.”

“The Yule Ball?” he repeated with a slight stammer.

Well, the discussion seemed to be changing too rapidly for his staggering brain to follow. It was to be expected.

“Yes, the Yule Ball. I can’t go unless a fourth year or above escorts me,” she explained slowly, taking pity on him.

“But…” he shook his head slowly. “You’re Daphne’s sister and she…” He looked sullen when he added. “And then, Pansy demanded I take her to the ball. She’s been pestering me for a week.”

“Then, I’ll be glad to save you from a fate worse than death. You cannot encourage her infatuation if you have no intention of courting her in the future.” She goaded him stealthily, acting as the devil on his shoulder and challenging him.

Pride had made him a fool, she knew that very well. Malfoys were a prideful lot and Draco was no different. He would never settle for Pansy Parkinson. The girl was overbearing and unpleasant. Her parents had spoiled her rotten and forgot to teach her the world ‘no’.

“Courting?” Draco murmured, staring down at her with a frightened, pale face. “I have no intention of courting that—‘’ He grimaced then shuddered.

“I thought so. If you take me with you, there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that you are not interested in Heiress Parkinson.”

A faint blush swept over Draco’s high cheekbones. “But…It might make people talk and wonder if…”

Astoria stared at him with wide eyes, and his blush heightened further. “It’s just a ball. I don’t care about what a bunch of blithering fools think.”

“Yes. Of course, Miss Greengrass.” He averted his gaze. “What about your sister? Does she know?”

She waved his concerns off. “Daphne will probably congratulate me for finding a way to break the rules. After she gives me a lengthy lecture, that is. She loves me, so she won’t mind. I’ll tell her the truth.”

“And would that be, Miss Greengrass?” he crossed his arms over his broad chest, mimicking her and making her overly aware of their height difference. Draco had filled out this summer. He was no longer the slender boy with a pointed face. “That you coerced me into taking you to the Yule Ball knowing very well how I feel about Heiress Parkinson?”

A superior grin crossed her face. “That you offered a Housemate in need a helping hand. Out of the goodness of your heart. You are a gentleman, aren’t you?”

Letting his mask slip down Draco Malfoy snorted. “No wonder Hadrian is exceptionally fond of you.”

“Please, call me Astoria.” She said, a teasing smile lurking in the corners of her lips.

“Then, it’s Draco for you. If I am to escort you to the Yule Ball, we have to drop the formalities.” He inclined his head.

Astoria clapped her hands together. “By the way, I heard that Heir Nott is still dateless. I know someone who would like to go with him.”

Draco gaped at her then shook his head with an odd, bemused smile. “And I presume you expect me to help another Housemate in need?” A glint of humour lingered in his eyes as he studied her carefully.

His quip drew a rustle of laughter from her throat. “Why, Draco. We understand each other so well. I know I chose you for a reason.”

Ron scrutinized his reflection in the mirror. From the look of scrambling panic on his face, Henry understood how his friend felt.

He couldn’t blame him. The dress robes Mrs Weasley sent for him were hideous. He exchanged a look with Neville and the latter’s gaze lingered meaningfully on the ancient frills, before he grimaced.

It pained him that their friend had to suffer because of the scarcity of the Weasleys' resources.

However, Ron had his pride. He would never accept charity from his friends, and Henry had no intention of hurting his friend’s feelings.

That being said, he could always come up with a way to help him. He just needed to use tact—like he did when he whispered to Miss Lavender Brown that Ron was interested in escorting her to the Yule Ball as it became apparent that he lacked the required courage to ask a girl to be his date.

Not that he had fared any better, he thought with a snort. It took him days to gather courage to face Hermione after he realized what she meant to him. His father’s letters and Harry’s amused looks didn’t help.

When it became obvious that he didn’t have what it took to confront her, Harry rolled his eyes, elbowed him lightly in the ribs and smirked. “Are you a Potter or what? Don’t make me call you brat again.”

The rest became history for a Potter could never refuse a challenge. It went against every drop of Lord Linfred of Stinchombe’s blood that ran in his veins.

The trust—the emotional bond they had planted and cultivated through their years as best friends was stronger that what he thought. Hermione’s face had displayed a myriad of emotions when he asked her if she wanted to go with him to the Yule Ball as his date.

When he offered her an exclusive edition of ‘House Potter: The Elaborate History of the Potterers of Stinchombe’, she froze. Every emotion, everything she felt towards him, every attraction she tried to conquer came rushing back to the surface.

Hermione was first and foremost a Muggleborn. But like his mother, she did her best to find a place for herself in this new world. She understood very well the need to study Wizarding Traditions and respect them. Unfortunately, there was no Pre-Hogwarts program for Muggleborns and Halfbloods, but that had never deterred Hermione from learning and succeeding.

Because of that, she was aware of the importance of his present. It wasn’t a mere book to add to her vast collection, it was an invaluable gift, for only Potters and their intended were allowed to the intricate details of the history of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter.

He wore a silly smile when he remembered how tight she had hugged him. Her tears had drenched the collar of his robes but he didn’t mind. Seeing Hermione act all emotional and girly was a memory he intended to treasure for years to come.

“You are grinning like an idiot,” Neville nudged him.

Ron’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “I’m not sure that Lavender will agree to go with me when she sees these atrocious robes.” He closed his eyes, refusing to look at his reflection.

“You don’t have to worry about them,” Henry snapped his fingers to get his friend’s attention, then took his wand out. “I mean no offense, but whoever designed these dress robes lacked taste. They should’ve been beheaded.”

“I agree,” Neville sighed.

Ron’s brows drew in confusion. “What do you plan to do? These are the only dress robes I have, and the ball will start in a few.”

Henry smirked. “Did you forget that your best friend is a Transfiguration prodigy? Don’t move. Let me fix your robes.”

“You mean….” Relief flooded into Ron’s expression.

“I won’t have my friend feel lesser than the peacocks sauntering downstairs,” he winked. “Now shut up and let me concentrate on my work.”

Daphne wandered to the dressing table and picked up a bottle of perfume, a Yule gift that her mother had recently sent. With her unusual talent in Perfumery, Lady Cynthia Greengrass loved to occupy herself with scents and perfumes, which led to her inventing an exotic collection of highly in-demand fragrances. Daphne had recently taken to experimenting with her own combinations, and she found out that she rather liked Perfumery.

The fragrance her mother sent was lush and well-rounded, with Saffron Crocus and pungent wood spices fixed in amber. She carefully poured a few golden drops into her palm and inhaled in pleasure as the heavenly fragrance rose into the air. Her fingers went instinctively to the unique flower on her hair, which she used as a hair comb, and her lips lifted in a smile.

“He’s a thoughtful wizard, isn’t he?” Tracy teased recklessly. “Who would’ve thought that a simple flower would melt the ice around your heart?”

Daphne ignored her friend’s teasing and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her emerald velvet dress was rather lovely. She would never admit it, but she picked it  because the colour reminded her of Hadrian’s eyes. She wouldn’t have thought there was a guy alive who could fluster her like this. She was a confident and worldly witch, after all. But she couldn’t ignore the way her heart began to pound as she took her purse and prepared to leave the dormitory.

Astoria was nowhere to be seen, which made her wonder if the troublemaker was up to something.

“Let’s go down.” Tracy grinned. “I don’t want to keep Blaise waiting.”

“Of course you don’t,” she said, rolling her eyes. They took the three sets of stairs down, then left the Dungeons.

The students and their dates had congregated at the entrance of the Great Hall, waiting for the doors to open. The sounds of cheers and laughter filled the air and funneled into the deserted corridors. Everyone was dressed to the nines and looking their best.

Ordinarily, this was the kind of event she would have tried to avoid. But tonight was special. Tonight, she would be seen in Hadrian Potter-Black’s arm for the first time. It would mark their first official outing.

Her eyes darted to the left, and a shiver ran down her back.

He was every bit as well-dressed as the wizards on either side of him, but the way he carried himself made all the difference. Clad in precisely tailored, lavish black dress robes, he moved with the physical confidence and grace of a seasoned predator. His expression was reserved as usual, and his striking features made him unfairly handsome.

Everything about his appearance indicated he was someone who demanded a great deal of others, and even more of himself. No longer was he the wizard she kissed passionately a day ago. She was looking at the future Head of the Sacred Twenty Eight.

His attention moved to her swiftly, and his eyes softened as he stared at her with warm admiration that made colour rise to her cheeks.

“Just…Wow….” Tracy whistled.

“Don’t let Blaise see you drool over a taken man,” she said, cocking a brow up. “I’m certain he won’t appreciate that.”

“Are you acting all territorial?”

“Maybe,” she said, lifting her chin up when Hadrian whispered something to Cassius and approached her uncaring about the students who turned and gazed at him.

“Daphne,” he extended his hand and she took it. “You look lovely tonight.”

Her head tilted back as she stared at him. “And you look handsome yourself.” Her knees turned weak when he lifted her hand to his lips and smirked, amusement lurking at the corners of his mouth. “Why, thank you. Astoria thinks so as well.”

“Astoria?” she frowned.

“Yes.’’ He offered her that secret, disarming smile he seldom displayed in public. “I think she looks very pretty.”

When she blinked at him like a simpleton, he winked and tilted his head to the other side.

Daphne stood motionless as she watched Astoria, in Heir Draco Malfoy’s arm, laughing at something Miss Luna Lovegood—who was in Heir Theodore Nott's arm, said. And if it wasn't enough, Mr Colin Creevey—who was dwarfed by Heiress Millicent Bulstrode, joined them, excitement written all over his face.

“She is…” The words blotted out of her throat.

“A most fascinating snake,” Hadrian whispered conspiratorially.

Chapter Text

Hadrian smirked. Looking at Astoria whisper something to Draco before dragging him toward them made him exceptionally giddy. He could hear the smile in her voice when she drew her spine straight and said? “Oh, Daphne, you look beautiful tonight.”

Daphne watched her calmly and nodded. “So, this is why you asked Betty to bring your formal blue gown.”

Astoria shrugged as she arranged her skirts and folded her hands neatly in front of her. The mischievous glint in her eyes betrayed her, though. “I reckoned I needed to dress the part. I cannot embarrass House Greengrass, plus I love this dress.”

Hadrian could hardly stop himself from snorting. He had to admit that the soft colour flattered Astoria immensely. The dress was made of soft blue material overlaid with white tulle.

Draco seemed at loss on how to act when his date added. “As always, Draco has been an invaluable Housemate. I couldn’t manage without his help.”

“Of course,” Daphne deliberately straightened as her eyes landed on their intertwined arms. “I trust he will treat you right and make sure you enjoy the ball.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Heiress Greengrass,” Draco held her gaze. “I will treat Astoria with nothing but utmost respect.”

Astoria bit her lip to hide her grin and wore an expression of frank anticipation when Professor McGonagall approached them. “I believe we have to leave. We’ll meet you inside.”

She smiled up at Draco and left, her gown swishing and rusting as she moved.

Daphne’s narrow-eyed countenance was replaced by an arrested expression when she noticed Cassius who was waiting for his date to join him.

Not that he blamed her. His best friend moved gracefully, dressed to perfection in the formal House Warrington black and charcoal colours. With his dark hair brushed neatly away from his face, it drew the attention to his piercing dark grey eyes. Heads turned as Mademoiselle Fleur Delacour deliberately took her time about reaching him.

“Cassius. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.” She beamed at him when he—ever the gentleman—lifted her dainty hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

Hadrian’s lips quirked wryly when everyone paused, he read astonishment, jealousy and confusion in the audience’s faces. To say that no one expected Mademoiselle Delacour’s date to be Cassius Warrington was an understatement.

“A Lady is never late,” his best friend replied smoothly.

“Really?” Delacour asked with a laugh. “I am afraid that you will have to reconcile yourself to the fact that I tend to be late, then. I will hold you to these words, Cassius.”

Cassius clear, grey eyes taunted her. “It would be my pleasure, Fleur.”

“Cassius and Delacour?” Daphne whispered before they joined them. “This is going to be a night to remember, indeed.”

Hadrian’s hand drew gently over her velvet-covered back. “You know that Cassius is a Magic Sentient. He felt the pull toward Delacour’s magic since their paths crossed. Like me, he doesn’t appreciate unwanted attention. They’ve been keeping their relationship under wraps until they could no longer hide it.”

When Cassius cornered him and admitted that he had found his magical match, words had eluded him. He’d been ecstatic for his best friend and brother in all that mattered. Knowing how hard it was for the Warringtons to find their perfect match, had worried him at times. He wished Cassius nothing but happiness.

Naturally, he hadn’t expected the French Half-Veela to be Cassius’ match, but he’d noticed how he’d been attuned to her magic and more than often came to her defence since she stepped into Hogwarts so, it wasn’t really surprising.

Explaining it to Adrian, though, wasn’t that easy. The blond’s reaction was hysterical, it made them take a few steps back, trying to avoid getting slapped by his hands that were flapping in front of him. He couldn’t believe that two of his best friends had already found their matches while he was still single.

“Not that I blame the ladies,” Marcus said carelessly while skimming through a Quidditch magazine. “Your wandering eyes makes it hard for a witch to trust you with her heart.”

Ignoring his spluttering protests, Hadrian and Marcus congratulated Cassius and wished him all the best.

“Heir Potter-Black and date, Mademoiselle Delacour and date, would you join your fellow champions? We have a schedule to keep up with.” Professor McGonagall ushered them toward the closed door.

“Where is Henry?” he frowned when he couldn’t find his brother anywhere.

Professor McGonagall screwed up her face into a threatening scowl. “If he dares embarrass…”

“I’m here!” Henry assured her in a gruff voice. “There is no rush.”

“I have to disagree, Mr Potter,” Professor McGonagall pinched her lips. “Being on time is a must for any wizard who wants to succeed.”

“Of course, Professor,” he said reasonably, ducking his head in fake-shame. “I’ll try to do better next time.”

“There won’t be a next time. I’m not sure if I can survive it.” The Transfiguration Mistress scowled and muttered under her breath.

Hermione blushed when the brat drew her closer to his side and winked. “Helping Ron was worth it.” He remarked shamelessly.

“You look lovely, Hermione,’’ Hadrian smiled. “I hope that Henry is not too much to handle.”

She blinked up shyly at him. “Thank you, Hadrian. Unfortunately, you know he is.”

Henry gasped and assumed a properly wounded expression. “And here I was thinking that you lov—“

Hermione eyes widened, and before he could finish, she clamped a hand over his mouth. “Henry!”

“Mademoiselle Delacour, Heir Warrington, you will stand first, followed by….” Professor McGonagall started.

Cassius cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Professor, but I think that Hadrian has to be first. He’s Hogwarts Champion and he outranks me. I do apologize, but I cannot.”

Hadrian’s eyes softened. “Cassius, you don’t need to do that. It’s just a ball.”

“No,” Cassius shook his head firmly and gave the door separating them from the rest of the students a dark look. “Maybe this is an occasion to remind everyone who we are. In a couple of months, we’ll take our seats at the Wizengamot. We are the future leaders of Magical Britain. It’s horridly disheartening that our culture is being disrespected in a school built by your ancestor.”

Professor McGonagall jerked as if she’d been hit by lightning.

It was easy at times to forget that this school housed the nobility of Magical Britain. It was easy to disregard Wizarding Politics and Culture, which were the foundation stone of their society. Of course, the Court members intended to change that as soon as they took their rightful places.

Hadrian looked at Mr Krum who inclined his head in understatement and waited for his date—Heiress Susan Bones, who nodded. “I agree with Heir Warrington. After you, Heir Potter-Black.”

He sighed and took the lead, followed by Cassius and Fleur and Krum and Heiress Bones. Henry brought up the rear with Hermione. Not that he cared about ranks and formalities unless he had to.

It seemed that the ball was attended by at least two hundred students. Many second and third years had followed in Astoria’s steps and found older students to escort them.

He concealed a flare of annoyance when Dumbledore studied the Champions’ dates carefully. He didn’t like the look in his eyes one bit.

Daphne ignored the gawking students and glided by his side, her smile easy, her posture as regal as that of a queen. Neither the drastic changes made to the Great Hall nor the hundreds of curious gazes seemed to disturb her composure. She was so polished and immaculately perfect that no one suspected the layer of steel beneath her exterior. No one would ever guess that she was the kind of young witch who would defy the Fates to protect her family.

She drifted closer to him as they followed after Professor McGonagall to take their places at the top table.

He seated her next to him, then motioned for Cassius to take the vacant chair by his left. He had no intention of sitting next to Mr Percival Weasley. Cassius easily took the hint.

Karkaroff wore a bored expression, and Madame Maxime applauded politely as Fleur approached the top table.

“Potter-Black,” Senior Auror Moody grumbled as he offered him a mangled hand. “Great deduction skills. Keep up the good work, lad.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Hadrian replied.

“In any case, if you’re interested in an Auror career, I volunteer to tutor you,” Moody added casually.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir.”

“Auror Potter-Black?” Daphne smiled at the thought. “I didn’t know you intended to follow in Lord Potter’s steps.”

“Well, I don’t.” He placed his order. “The Wizengamot is the real battlefield, and I take my responsibilities very seriously.”

“I know,” she said with amusement dancing in her eyes before placing her order.

As soon as the food was consumed, Dumbledore cleared the floor with a wave of his hand in a great display of control over his magic.

Everyone gasped, then started cheering and clapping when the Weird Sisters trooped up onto the stage. The lanterns at the tables went down as hundreds of floating lanterns and blazing lamps lit the dance floor. Daphne knew what was coming next.

“Would you give me the honour of this dance, Daphne?” Hadrian helped her to her feet.

“With pleasure.” Her heart fluttered in her chest and she felt a brilliant tide of pink sweep over her face.

The crowd responded with a round of applause as the Champions and their dates took their places.

Her gaze went instinctively went to Astoria, who wore an irrepressible smile as she waved at her enthusiastically. She beheld the pair she made with Draco, one so fair, one brunette and yet striking in their attractiveness, and wondered if tonight would turn into something more.

“You’re overthinking,” Hadrian rested his hand on her waist, bringing her back to the present.

“It’s Astoria,” she followed his lead as he began to waltz. As expected, he was an excellent dancer, self-assured and easy to follow. Naturally, Potter Manor held many soirées and galas to entertain the family’s friends and allies.

They had extended a few invitations to her parents, which—unfortunately, she couldn’t attend because of Astoria’s poor health.

“She’s doing fine,” he drew her closer to his chest, and she noticed the flecks of light that danced over his eyes. “We’ll find a way, you have my word.”

She hid her face in the crook of his neck and nodded. Her heart was beating high in her throat, making it hard to speak.

He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Tonight, though, I want you to forget about everything but us.” His mouth curved into a half-smile she found so alluring. “Am I that undeserving of your undivided attention?”

Her eyes widened when he coaxed her fingers free of his shoulder and draped them around his neck. She rested her head on his shoulder and relaxed in his hold as he guided them through some intricate steps. She made a sound of surprise as he twirled her twice and he whispered. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

“I know,” she smiled and clung to him, holding onto his left shoulder.

Very soon, many couples came onto the dance floor, including Astoria and Draco, Tracy and Blaise and Heir Longbottom and Heiress Abbott.

The Weird Sisters stopped playing and applause filled the Great Hall.

“Let’s take a break, shall we?” he asked as he gave her hand a light squeeze.

Hadrian steered her toward the doors, but instead of leading her to the gardens like she’d expected, he brought her to a quiet corner, tucking her into it so that if she wanted to leave, she had to go through him.

Like she ever wanted to leave his side.

“I thought we were going to dance some more.” She gazed up at him, her pulse hammering erratically because of the way he was looking at her through heavy-lidded eyes. 

“It’s too crowded and loud for my tastes,” he casually nodded to the Great Hall. They could hear the noise of the crowd.

“Too bothered with the attention from the girls?” she asked with a lifted brow.

His dryly amused expression let her know he was pleased with her remark. “Why would I bother with them? You put every girl there to shame.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “I—“ She swallowed hard.

Normally, jealousy wasn’t a sentiment she was familiar with. She was raised by loving parents and never lacked for a thing. However, she couldn’t deny the fire that ignited inside her chest whenever another witch looked at Hadrian in a specific way. It made her restless and itching to draw her wand and teach her why it was too wrong to covet something that wasn't hers.

Maybe Astoria and Tracy were right. Apparently, she was a bit possessive.

Hadrian smirked. “I am yours. You have nothing to fear.”

She stammered through a suddenly dry throat. What he made her feel scared her. The power he had over her heart was breathtaking. It was as if he’d laid some kind of claim on her soul, and she was helpless to resist. She didn’t want to resist this pull.

He brought his hand up to cup just below her ear, running his thumb softly along her jaw. When he drew her forward, goosebumps blossomed on her skin. His other hand landed so softly on her nape, and, with gentle strokes, his fingers traced down the length of her back.

His lips turned up. “I can understand that you're wary of what you’re feeling.” The dim light lit his raven hair and cast a silver hue on his masculine features.

Would she ever get tired of looking at him?

Then he astounded her by saying, “It might surprise you, but I am new to this, too. It’s not every day that a Potter loses his heart. I give you my word that I will honour and respect you as I’ve never done with another. Please trust me on that, Daphne.”

What an absolutely wonderful thing to say. She didn’t doubt he took his vows seriously.

Butterflies battered her stomach when his gaze lowered to her mouth. “And you have my word that I’ll stand by you through thick and thin. We, Greengrasses, do know how to keep our vows.”

Their faces were close enough that his breath tickled her lips. He cupped the back of her head and bent to her ear again, and she had to put her hands on his shoulders to keep herself steady in her heels. “Thank you, for the unwavering faith. You have no idea how precious it is to me.”

She took the expensive fabric of his outer robes between her fingers and worried it, not caring, and he shifted slightly so that his lips could brush hers lightly, teasingly.

Daphne immediately felt herself melt and curl into his strong body. Slipping her fingers into his hair, she fisted a handful and pulled his head down, seeking more contact.

By the time they were done, her head was swimming pleasantly, and she was grateful for Hadrian’s steady guidance as they returned to the Great Hall.

No matter what the future had in store for them, she would remember this night forever.

Chapter Text

The Black Lake was as uninviting as it could be. The water looked dark as it rippled in the light winter breeze. Low, leaden clouds piled one atop the other, pressing down upon the frozen ground, ominous and foreboding.

Hadrian stared at the judges for a long moment. He was furious enough with them already, his emerald eyes crackling with sparks of silver outrage.

“You will be safe at all times. Don’t worry.” It was all the explanation Dumbledore gave to Cassius, Daphne and Hermione when they asked if they had to take part in this madness.

“If she’s hurt….” Henry shook his head and muttered a low curse under his breath.

Seeing his brother’s genuine distress, he reached down to touch his tense shoulders. “It doesn’t matter who’s at fault now. Let’s save our hostages first, and we’ll make them pay later.” He argued quietly but firmly as he gripped Henry’s shoulder tighter. Idly, his thumb moved over the taut muscles underneath his fingers, offering him all the comfort he could. “It’s important that you keep a level head. Time is running out, Henry. You must do this—for Hermione, if you won’t do it for yourself.”

“But they said she would be safe.” Desperation filtered into his dull hazel eyes as he spoke, and Hadrian’s magic roared at the urgency in his voice. He’d seen him upset before, but never like this.

His mouth flattened, but his tone was tender with concern. “Have I ever gone back on my word? I told you we'd make them pay. Why do you think Cassius agreed to this farce? Can't you see Lord Warrington sitting next to Father, Sirius and Lord Greengrass? Even Hermione’s parents have been warned. They might be Muggles, but let’s just say that her mother has a way with expletives. It took Mother an hour to calm the poor woman.”

Henry’s gaze sharpened a bit, intense with purpose.  "You know I trust implicitly to have my best interests in mind, Harry.”

Taken aback, he went silent for a long moment, amusement creeping into his features. Henry’s trust never failed to humble him and make him strive to never disappoint him. “Then don’t act like a brat and go save your girl. And remember; don’t stay longer than intended underwater. I’ll be right beside you. The Gillyweed Mother sent should give you enough time to rescue your hostage, but you can never be too sure. The Black Lake is brimming with Dark Creatures.”

The words seized up in his throat as his senses prickled to attention. A shiver of awareness travelled through his bloodstream when he stole a glance at the Black Lake, making his veins sizzle and his palms tingle with Potter Battle Magic.

Knowing that four innocents were held against their will, helpless with all that terror surrounding them, made the tether of his self-control stretch taut, near to breaking. The Black Madness, all alluring, beckoned him again and he tightened his hold on his Occlumency Shields.

Bagman cleared his throat, pointed his wand at his throat, and his voice boomed. “Now that all our Champions are here, let’s begin!”

The excited babble of the crowd echoed across the water. Hadrian levelled a sober look at them and rolled his naked shoulders back, his muscles rippling with power. Henry gave him an exasperated side look, and he shrugged in mild dismissal of the silent praise. Working out was as important as Duelling for improving muscle strength and boosting endurance. Unfortunately, only a few Wixen saw merit in what they considered lowly Muggle pursuits.

“Hadrian!” It took him a moment to find the voice’s owner. Astoria waved at him fervently and shouted. “Please, bring her back!”

His expression softened and he nodded firmly.

“The Champions have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . three !’’

The stands erupted with cheers and screams as the whistle echoed in the air. Hadrian closed his eyes and imagined the shape and size of his tail, the colour of his scales, before he flung himself into the deep water.

At first, he considered sharing the Gillyweed with Henry, then he ruled that possibility out.

Once again, he wanted to showcase his skills in Transfiguration. Human Transfiguration was admittedly one of the hardest branches of magic to grasp and burnish, but House Potter had given birth to the best Transfiguration High Masters in Europe for centuries. The art was his family’s pride and joy.

He heard a splash and knew that Henry had followed him. He twisted around and looked at his newly-acquired tail. The crimson scales—House Potter’s heraldic colours—buzzed with magic as he twisted his tail and followed the tide. A bob of wild ebony hair caught his eye. He turned and found Henry pointing out at his tail with wide grin. Hadrian rolled his eyes and tilted his head toward the middle of the lake.

He was certain that Henry would start working on Human Transfiguration this summer. He was fiercely competitive when it came to the Family Magic. Something, he strongly encouraged, for he knew there was so much potential under that playful façade.

They didn’t get so far. From behind them, he sensed a disturbance in the water. He went utterly still as he let his magic roam free. Sure enough, when he twisted his body around, he found Fleur Delacour under attack.

A herd of Grindylows had their long, clawed fingers around her ankles, their sharp fangs bared threateningly, as she thrashed helplessly. Rage consumed his senses, obliterating everything but the need to protect the vulnerable Veela.

Every Wix worth his magic knew that Veelas were Creatures of Fire. To put them underwater equaled placing their lives in jeopardy. They did not do well in water, not to mention, the enmity between Creatures of Water and Creatures of Fire was old as time itself.

That blazing anger sweltered him from the inside as he whipped the water with his strong tail and plummeted toward her. Even if she wasn’t the girl his best friend had showed interest in, it gutted him to watch the suffering the Ministry had brought upon the innocent for an agenda none of them had an interest in.

Henry retrieved his wand and pointed it at the vicious creatures. A jolt of scorching hot water pelted their hides, and they screeched in agony, angry pelts marring their green skin.

At his grave nod, Fleur briefly closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping down in defeat. Slowly, without waiting for her permission, he waved his hand, fixing the bubble around her head and making sure it had enough supply of fresh air.

He tilted his head and pointed upwards. Fleur shook her head weakly, but he gave her a stern look. Both knew she had no strength left to carry on with her task. Her core was drained.

When she pursued her lips and frowned, he mouthed. “I’ll bring him back to you. You have my word.”

Veelas were a Warrior Race. Hadrian understood that giving up would sting her pride and rule her warrior’s logic in neglecting the obvious danger. He, however, had no intention of letting her get hurt.

He took her hand in both his and felt her grip grow slack when his eyes conveyed the truth.

She closed her eyes and nodded. When he let go, she took a deep breath and used what little strength she had left to propel herself upwards. Henry gave her the thumps-up then they set off once more towards the middle of the lake, following the song.

A small sigh left his lips when the Mermen Village’s entrance came into view. A couple of Mermen emerged from their caves, holding spears in their hands. Hadrian and Henry swam past them, feeling their piercing gaze on their backs.

Tension coiled deep inside him, the pressure turning every tendon and sinew to the breaking point as they made their way toward the giant statue at the centre of the village. Four Hogwarts students were bound tightly to the tail of the stone Merman.

Daphne was tied between Hermione and Heiress Susan Bones, her heads lolling onto her shoulders. He gritted his teeth when his gaze went to his best friend and brother in all but blood.

He couldn’t hold back the primal drum of his pulse, his blood running hot and molten through his veins, his magic asking for an outlet. It was the first time he saw Cassius so helpless, so vulnerable. The sight didn’t suit the proud man at all.

Seeing them in this state, three proud witches and a wizard, sent a surge of emotions flooding through him, but the first one to leap to his mind was outrage.

Henry sped toward the hostages without a look back. His hands shook as he cut the ropes binding Hermione until they broke loose. He caught her before she floated away and looked at him questioningly.

Several pairs of yellow eyes followed his every move, but he paid them no heed. They were inconsequential.

He hiked his chin up and growled deep in his throat. With a wave of his hand, Daphne and Cassius' bindings were loose.

The Mermen were now bearing down on him. He put his body between them and his brother and hostages. One bold Merman raised his spear and slashed it toward him. It clashed in a screech of metal against the silver shield he conjured instinctively.

 “If you value your lives, leave. I have no feud with your kind, but I won’t let you stand between me and my girl and best friend,” his eyes blazed.

“One….hostage… Take your hostage and leave the rest…” One Merman screeched.

Hadrian held his stare. “I don’t think so.”

Henry produced another stream of bubbling water with his wand, making several Mermen scatter and yelp.

Hadrian looked at him and motioned with his eyes skyward. Henry looked reluctant, but he shook his head.

He caught Daphne in his arms, and the motion collapsed her loosely gathered mane and sent the platinum waves tumbling around her shoulders and down her back. His chest burned for the witch he became so infatuated with. He knew how much kindness and determination lurked beneath the hard, icy shell, and he felt privileged because he was among the select few she allowed a glimpse of the real her. When he looked at her sleeping face, he felt a pang in his chest. How he missed her arresting glacial blue eyes.

He blew out a curse, then waved his hand angrily. A giant wave made of blistering bubbles hit the lingering Mermen. Many of them darted downward, taking refuge in their caves. When he turned to grasp Cassius’ sleeve, he rolled his eyes.

His best friend was very awake and looking at him with a rare grin splitting his face. How did he think—even for a second—that the resourceful wizard would let himself be at the judges’ mercy. Of course, he had taken appropriate measures to ensure his safety. Cassius produced a small vial from his pocket and shrugged. It was an antidote. He flicked his wand out and pointed toward the surface.

Hadrian kicked off with his muscular tail, holding Daphne tightly to his chest. Soon enough, they gained speed until they reached Henry and Hermione. His brother’s eyes widened comically when Cassius gave him a wink.

They swam in the eerie silence that surrounded them until their heads broke the surface of the lake. Hadrian closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and the tail disappeared, leaving place for two human legs.

The crowd in the stands was making a great deal of noise; shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be on their feet waiting for the Champions to emerge from the lake, but he had eyes only for Daphne.

Her brows snapped together first before her eyes opened with a gasp, her starving lungs sucking in the air. His arms swept her closer to his body, holding her head against his chest gently.

His voice was deep at her ear as he whispered. “Hello, beautiful.”

She locked her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer against her. When he looked down at her, her pale brows crashed together over her stormy eyes. “Hadrian Potter-Black, I’m never, ever, playing your hostage again.”

“And who said I’ll them take you away from me again,” he said, smirking as he sluiced water off his face. “You are not leaving my side.”

She arched a brow up when he smiled. Just as they reached the bank, Marcus and Adrian seized him by the shoulders. He wrapped Daphne tightly in his arms as they pulled them up.

Astoria was waiting for them with warm blankets. She must’ve charmed them.

“Harry!” Henry joined him shortly, an arm draped protectively over Hermione’s shoulder.

“How are you feeling?”

“Brilliant,” the brat grinned and motioned with his head toward the judges’ bank.

Hadrian’s eyes gleamed with excitement. Dumbledore and the rest of the judges came to a jarring halt as his father followed by Madam Bones cornered them. It was impossible to deny himself the satisfaction of knowing that they had to answer to the DMLE now for endangering the life of three minors, three Heirs to Noble and Most Ancient Houses of the Sacred Twenty Eight and a Veela of the ruling family of the French Coven.

Needless to say, they were about to suffer a long and sleepless night going by Madam Bone’s shouts—which could be heard from a distance.

Chapter Text

Henry snorted when Hermione exchanged a subtly quizzical glance with him. Without the barest hint of sympathy, he shrugged. “They broke the law. You can’t endanger a minor’s life without their guardians’ consent. I heard that your mother is furious.”

Hermione shuddered. “You mean….Lady Potter is in speaking terms with Mum?”

Henry smirked, wholly amused now. “In fact, Mum is quite fond of Mrs Granger. They get together for afternoon tea whenever she visits Muggle London.”

All joviality was lost from Hermione’s face then, replaced by no small amount of annoyance, shown in her pursed lips and the whitening of her knuckles. He would never admit it to a living soul, but he enjoyed riling her up more than he should. “And you are only telling this me now because?”

“What’s wrong with our mothers getting along?” he said airily, pretending not to pay mind to the blood surging on her cheeks or the narrowing of her eyes.

“You!” she hissed, then her brows moved up into her forehead when the crowd parted automatically to admit Madam Bones and his father. Bagman looked as if his life was about to end. James stepped into position beside her and looked pointedly at Dumbledore.

“Oh, James,” Bagman said, laughing and anxious to flee. “What brings you here?”

Annoyance sparked in James’ eyes. “Do I need to jog your memory, Ludo?” he replied dryly. “Two of the Champions are my sons. One of them is a minor who had to get to the bottom of the Black Lake to retrieve his minor girlfriend.”

“And my minor niece who happens to be the future Lady of House Bones was there as well. Not by choice, mind you,” Madam Bones pointed out.

“Amelia…” Dumbledore said solemnly. “I assure you that at no time were the children in danger. I would never let any of them get hurt.”

“I have to disagree,” James countered, snorting out his disagreement. “Have you forgotten what happened a few months ago? You let an imposter into the school premises.”

When Henry snickered, Hermione chided him. “Not now.”

“I don’t remember you asking us to let our charges partake at such a hazardous activity. Surely, you know better than to break another law, Albus,” Amelia’s narrow gaze focused on him before it went to Madame Maxime. “As for you, Madame Maxime, I am certain that you know of Miss Delacour’s particular…situation. No Veela should be put underwater for a lengthy period of time.”

Madame Maxime seemed aghast and stung by the reprimand. “Fleur is more than capable of protecting herself.”

“She was attacked by a horde of Grindylows. If not for James sons, she could’ve been severely hurt,” Amelia countered. “Is the trophy more important than a student’s wellbeing? I advised Fudge against this Tournament from the beginning. Nothing good will come out of it.”

“It’s a binding magical contract, you can’t stop it,” Karkaroff reminded them through gritted teeth.

“Maybe we can’t,” James acknowledged coldly. “But everyone who had a hand in endangering my sons and the other students’ lives will answer to the International Confederation of Wizards. We filled out a plaint just now. All the hostages’ guardians will speak on behalf of their charges. Whoever designed this task will answer to an international court of competent jurisdiction as soon as the Tournament ends.”

“Did you have to go to such lengths, James?” Dumbledore said. His countenance showed plainly his growing astonishment and the raw fury that came on its heels at Amelia and James’ audacity.

“And did you have to agree to such a foolish task at such a dangerous time?” Amelia hedged before he could defend himself. “No parent would put their child’s life in jeopardy to amuse a cluster of conceited fools. House Bones is not ready to lose another member. There are only a few left of us as it is.” Her tone was intimidating for its low and dangerous quality.

“And don’t presume to know things,” James raged quietly and slowly at the ashen-faced headmaster, enunciating each word to highlight his fury. “Every child’s life counts. Children are not chess pieces, so next time, think twice before you put someone’s life on the line.”

“That’s not enough,” Amelia said, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, we cannot cancel the Tournament. Mercifully, only one task remains. I’m sorry, Albus, but I can no longer trust you. The DMLE will supervise the preparations for the third task.”

Bagman blinked slowly, and his jaw moved right and left. “Y-you will supervise them in person?” he gulped. “Will Minister Fudge—‘’

Amelia moved her once-again angry glare on him. “Do you think I have much leisure time to humour you, Ludo?” she snapped impatiently. “The burden of keeping Magical Britain safe falls on my shoulders. Unlike you, I cannot behave irresponsibly. I will station some of my Aurors in Hogwarts till the end of this Tournament. They will report directly to James and me.”

“And for the record,” James’ jaw flexed. “The DMLE does not answer to Fudge. In fact, we answer to no one.” As he spoke, his fiery gaze bore into Dumbledore.

Bagman said nothing as Amelia and James left. Irked that they were so easily dismissed, the judges started murmuring in hushed tones.

“Wow,” Hermione exhaled. “Lord Potter can be….scary.”

“Dad is great,” Henry said quietly next to her, dispersing the stillness that followed his father and Madam Bones’ exit.

To tell the truth, Dumbledore and whoever took part in organizing the Tournament deserved what they just got. Possibly, he would never again witness so much shock in them as was etched across their proud visages just now.

He would never admit it, but he had a bad feeling about the Third Task. He wished that June would come soon so he could be done with this nightmare.

“You did well today.” Daphne’s icy blue eyes sparkled with admiration.

Hadrian’s heart soared. Coming from someone as taciturn as Daphne, such a comment constituted the highest praise. In what little time they got to know each other, he noticed the changes in her demeanour. She came to voice her thoughts and feelings with much more ease. And most importantly, she learned to share. Something he was certain she never did with a stranger before.

“Why, thank you,” he said dryly.

She put her head on his shoulder, her unbound hair tumbling all about her like a golden flame that lit the night. Her eyes were alive as she gazed at the stars.

After they attended the small party his housemates prepared to celebrate his victory, he whisked her away to the owlery. The night was cold, but he didn’t mind. She nestled her shoulder against him, huddling under the protection offered by his chest. Her head lifted and she looked into his eyes. “Only one Task to go,” she bit her lower lip. “My father sent a message. He is pleased with Lord Potter’s intervention.”

“Rumour, and my spies, would lead me to think that Dumbledore is anything but pleased at the moment.” His wry tone made her burst out laughing.

He grinned down at her enchanting face. Unable to resist, he tailed soft kisses from her temple to the corner of her mouth. When she started writhing in his arms, he shifted his mouth to her lips, and he began a slow seduction that soon had her moaning low in her throat. Before he overstepped his boundaries, he pulled his mouth from hers and lifted his head, then looked down into her iridescent eyes. Daphne twinned her arms around his neck and kissed his jaw.

“Why do you hate him so much?” Her voice came out hoarse.

“I can never forgive him for keeping my parents away from Potter Manor the night Voldemort attacked us,” he said flatly.

Her lips parted in silent surprise while she worked out his words in her head. Slowly, she moved her hands from his back to his cheeks. “You don’t have to shoulder this burden alone. You have me now.”

Swallowing, he leaned forward slightly in her fond embrace and nodded. “It will end shortly”, he whispered. “Voldemort will make his move soon, and I will be there to destroy him.”

“You won’t be alone,” she said with determination.

“I won’t,” he said, his thumb caressing her silky cheek. “Father and Sirius will be there.”

“What about Henry?” she asked, wearing a pained expression, her hand instinctively patting his face.

Hadrian sighed. “I won’t stop him. This is his revenge as much as it is mine.”

“What a pair we make,” Daphne mumbled against his neck. “When you speak about Voldemort, you make it sound fairly easy to get rid of him. You make me believe you will emerge wholly unscathed by the end.”

“Shot-lived distress is of little significance when my family’s honour is at stake. Henry will never be free until Voldemort disappears for good,” he cupped her fear-streaked face in his palms. “I have so much to fight for. My family, you and Astoria. You have nothing to fear, I will come back to you.”

She looked at him, a little dazed from his heartfelt, breathless speech. Smiling, he caught her in a tight hug. ‘’Most importantly, Astoria will kick my arse if I don’t come back. I don’t usually boast but that brat adores me.”

In the most vulnerable way possible, such as she’d never shown in all her life, not to anyone, she said with only a hint of despair. “I wish it was that easy to find a cure for Astoria. She hides her pain well, but I know she’s been sick for days. I know I might be already out of time, however, I can never let her go.”

No matter how much she tried to mask it, he recognized her anguish. It engulfed him as if it was his own.

“There is always hope,” he said softly. “I sent a letter to a very capable friend explaining the situation, and he promised to give me an answer soon.”

Daphne went still, clinging to him, afraid to look away, her face displaying all the powerful and poignant emotions she felt at the moment. “Y-you mean we can save her?”

“We will save her,” Hadrian kissed the tears that escaped her austere control and slid down her ivory cheeks. “Astoria is family, and I won’t let my family suffer another loss as long as I can prevent that.”

At his vow, her cheeks stained pink, and she gave him a radiant smile that made the night much brighter.

A future filled with violence and retribution loomed before him, but Hadrian was not worried. It was not uncommon for a Potter or a Black to fight for what they believed in—to lay their lives for those they loved. The tightness in his chest that had nearly choked him all these months eased as he closed his eyes briefly and drew in a long breath, feeling the tension slowly lessen. He tried valiantly to think of what he had to look forward to in the life he’d be forced to lead since he was four.

He would cling to hope, he decided. With his family by his side and Daphne in his arms, he had nothing to worry about.

James stole a glance at his wife as he reached for his goblet of Elven Wine and cringed. She was, he noted with a shudder, watching him like a hawk.

Sirius cleared his throat and took a generous swallow of his cup, his hand shaking slightly. Remus—ever oblivious to the looming danger—wolfed another triple chocolate cookie.

“Are you telling me that you are allowing them to continue this sham of a Tournament after what happened today?” she hissed, her hair wild as her control over her core became non-existent.

Turning his gaze from her, he looked at Sirius, pleading with his eyes for help. The traitor shook his head fervently.

Either way, her question was too absurd, he didn’t know whether to laugh or feel hurt. “When have I ever put my sons’ lives in jeopardy? Don’t you trust me any more, Lils?”

His big hand covered hers reassuringly and she managed a wobbly smile. Her hand clutched on his as if she was holding onto it for life. “Your silver tongue can rival that of Lucius Malfoy. It won’t save you, though. Explain.”

“Trust me,” he said.

“I do,” she said softly.

He hesitated for a split second and exchanged a look with Sirius. When the latter nodded, he cleared his throat and called. “Ezio!”

The Potter Elf materialized at once. “Master James called for Ezio.”

“Bring the item, please,” he sighed.

“What item?” Lily echoed, her questioning gaze lifting to his.

James took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her. “We know that Voldemort had orchestrated this bloody Tournament and tampered with the Champions' selection to get his hands on Henry.”

Lily did not deign to reply, but he could sense the stiffness in her shoulders. “However, the night he marked our son, he unlocked something he has no control over. I told you previously about my family’s history. We are not only Potters. The day Lord Hardwin Potter bonded with Lady Iolanthe Peverell, we became part Peverell, too. I’ve been looking for a way to save Henry for moths, and the answer lies with the Peverell legacy. It seems that Death had hand-picked the future Lord Peverell thirteen years ago when he spared Henry’s life. Henry is Death’s Chosen, everything leads to this conclusion.”

Lily trembled, though with relief or fear he did not know.

“Cassiopeia helped me find the answer.” His smile was faint. “And Barty made everything easier when he forced our son to partake in the Tournament. As of October, Henry is considered an adult by our laws.”

Ezio appeared with a small book in his hands. James thanked him and offered it to Lily.

“The Tales of Beedle Bard?” she said with a mild frown. “I used to read it to the kids when they were young.”

“But did you really read it?” His voice was grim.

Lily drew back and shot him an apprehensive look. “Henry will not die.”

“Of course, he won’t.” James’ hand shifted over her back in a soothing caress. “Everything is set in motion to prevent that.”

Chapter Text

Henry Potter burrowed deeper under the comforter. His eyes snapped open and he folded his arm at his chest, shivering as a chilling breeze whipped the folds of the curtain.

Hadn’t he fastened them before he got into bed?

Legitimately dumbfounded. A frown formed as he chanced a wary look around. His gaze swept the room but he found nothing out of place. Ron had fallen asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. He rolled his eyes as he listened to his snores. Slowly, he dropped his legs down and reached for his wand. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being watched.

At once, there was a bright burst of pain in his head, and his legs collapsed as if they had turned to sand. The brightness shrank like an imploding star, darkness closing in, but his mind pushed at it in bewilderment, struggling feebly for consciousness.

Gradually an eerie voice became recognizable to his buzzing ears. ‘Henry Fleamont Potter Peverell…’ The words echoed in his head before the darkness claimed him.

He became dimly aware that he was on the floor—he felt the scratchy wool pile of the carpet beneath his cheek. Wetness trickled from his temple. He swallowed against the sour taste in his mouth and a soft groan vibrated in his throat. As he concentrated on the pain, he identified its source at his forehead. His hand jerked up and went to his Curse Scar. He blinked to clear his eyes, but they wouldn't stop watering against the biting pain. A chill went down his back when he stared at his fingers. They were stained with a black, sticky liquid. It wasn’t blood. He was certain of that.

What in Godric’s Name was going on?

His shaking hand shot up to his neck and closed around the pendant Harry gave him years ago. “Please…I need you….”

It was strange how a sound, a plea could bring back the past so easily, no matter how Hadrian would have liked to forget it. He jerked up with a gasp. His heart twisted painfully. It had been years since he had that nightmare and relieved what went in Potter Manor thirteen years ago. He wiped his face with his hand and exhaled. He was drenched in cold sweat. His heart dispensed a series of hard thumps before settling into a fast rhythm when he felt the tug at the brother-bond he shared with Henry. Was he in danger? Did Voldemort make his move while they were unprepared?

Instinctively, his fingers encircled his wand and he made a dash for the door. Someone caught at his sleeve. Hadrian sighed and pushed hard at his best friend, he twisted around and said. “You can come along, Cassius.”

“What’s the matter?” Cassius asked as they walked in ground-eating strides. “Why are you in a hurry?”

“Something happened to Henry.” His brows rushed downward in worry. “He knows better than to call me at this hour if it wasn’t something urgent.”

The two friends stared at each other in the charged silence.

“This Tournament was a bad idea.” Cassius’ gaze lingered on the dark corridor that led to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Hadrian regarded him with exasperation. “You were there. I couldn’t stop him. Henry is no longer my baby brother. He has to make his own choices and fight his war. It doesn’t matter that I hate every moment he’s in danger. He’s a Potter.”

The sight that met his eyes made him stop dead in his tracks. Henry was in his pyjamas, waiting for them. His hair was wilder than ever, his face pale. It looked as if he had dragged his dishevelled bed clothes over his shoulders and rushed down.

“Henry?” With a murmur, Hadrian gathered him close against him. He knew his brother more than anyone, having become well acquainted years ago with his fears, his self-doubt, his impossible standards. He understood what it had required for Henry to become the boy he was that day, the sacrifices he'd had to make. He had fought so much to break free from the shackles Magical Britain and its inhabitants wanted to put on him, all the labels and monikers. He never wanted to be the Boy Who Lived. All that Henry wanted was to be a Potter: a good son and brother and someone who would make his family proud. He knew how much it cost him to ask for help. Most importantly, he was not prone to displaying his emotions and fears for all to see.

“What happened?” he whispered in his hair. He dropped a hand on his shoulder and felt his muscles tense.

“Maybe you need to take him to Potter Manor,” Cassius frowned. Obviously, it wasn’t what he’d been about to say.

Hadrian’s gaze snapped to his best friend. “Now?”

Cassius nodded grimly. “It seems we overlooked something important.” Their eyes collided. “The moment Henry’s name came out of the Goblet of Fire, he became emancipated.  It doesn’t matter that he’s fourteen. He’s an adult by Magic.”

Hadrian’s brows furrowed. Cassius was right. Henry was emancipated but why did it matter? It wasn’t like they had another Lordship for him to inherit. All the titles were already claimed, unless…

His eyes snapped to the Curse Scar. How could he be so stupid? Henry hadn’t merely survived that night. His grandfather had sacrificed his life to give them a new one but there was more to that. Death had given his brother a second chance. Death had touched him and his touch, left an everlasting mark on his soul for Death seldom interfered in mortals’ matters. But then, they were the grandchildren of Lady Iolanthe Peverell. Their heritage was as complicated and rich as could be. They rarely if ever mentioned the Peverells in a discussion. Their ancestors’ whereabouts were shrouded in mystery and secrecy. Didn’t Lady Iolanthe bring the Cloak of Invisibility as her dowry and ask Lord Hardwin Potter to never speak of it? It had been passed from Lord to Heir for generations. Maybe the Cloak wasn’t truly his. The Peverells’ history was the greatest enigma in Magical Britain. Texts pertaining to their feats and stories were as scarce as a Phoenix’s tears. Maybe…

For a heart-stopping moment, Hadrian thought he would choke. He remembered the Gaunt Ring. The black stone. Wasn’t High Master Salazar Slytherin the descendant of Cadmus Peverell, another Peverell trust with one of the Deathly Hallows?

And then, there was his father. James seemed calm as of late. Shouldn’t he be worried about the Third Task? They knew that Voldemort would make his move then, it was his last chance to catch Henry. Didn’t he do his best to make Henry compete?

“We need to go home. Now.” The words slipped from his throat scratchy and detached.

“What’s going on?” Henry swallowed. “Why am I hearing voices and feeling strange things?”

“I don’t have the answers.” It was all too much for him. His nerves were stretched to the breaking point. The effort he made to keep his calm was requiring everything he had. “Maybe Father does.”

Henry’s face was still too pale for his liking. His eyes were dilated, the hazel irises nearly extinguished by black. “Does this have anything to do with that night? Did something happen after my name came out of the Goblet of Fire?” he asked stiffly.

“You will certainly get your answers, Henry,” Cassius’ voice was quiet and kind. He looked at Henry compassionately. “Listen to Hadrian and go look for Lord Potter.”

Hadrian didn’t need to read his mind to know that the strong Magic Sentient had sensed something eerie and strange the moment they got to Henry. He could sense remnants of the cold, merciless magic clinging to Henry’s otherwise Dark Grey Aura.

Henry braced himself. “Won’t our absence be noticed? I’m in no mood to answer to Dumbledore or worse yet, McGonagall.”

“Don’t worry,” Hadrian said as they made their way through the dark corridors. My room—the one I don’t usually use, has a fireplace we can use.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “The King’s room has its own fireplace?”

He smirked. “Of course, it has, brat,” he winked. “We, Slytherins, love our luxury.”

“More like, you are lucky,” Henry mumbled under his breath.

“What are you doing here?” Lily asked as she fastened her sleeping robes. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

James heaved a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Lily wiped her face with a trembling hand and sat with her hands in her lap, fighting to suppress a howl of distress as she stared at him. “I hate it. I hate that I have to watch my fourteen-year-old son fight for his life. I understand that he has to do this. I know Henry. He can’t live with himself if he doesn’t destroy the piece of Voldemort inside of him but…He’s just a child. And then, there’s Hadrian. My brave, beautiful boy. Does he have to go through all this at such a young age? He’s barely older than Henry. He doesn’t deserve all this.”

“They’re Potters. They will survive.” James’ voice was guttural. His hands locked around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Our sons are born fighters.”

“I know,” Lily sniffed. “But what if the legend is true? What if Death had his eyes set on Henry from the very beginning? I remember the day Cassiopeia came back. She said something. Wait…Do you think..?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” James snorted. “She’s a Necromancer. The old fox knows many things she would never share with us. At least, she’s been a help. Thanks to her, we have all the Horcruxes.”

“Not all.’’ Lily stiffened. “Not the one that counts.”

“Voldemort will make an appearance soon. He’s so vain, he thinks we cannot predict his next move. Well, I guess he’ll learn to never underestimate a Potter again. It would be a valuable lesson to remember before he dies.” His palm coasted gently over her spine.

They froze when the fireplace flared to life and Hadrian and Henry appeared, dishevelled and pale.

“Hadrian? Henry?” he jumped to his feet with Lily still in his arms, his heart pounding wildly. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“Father, Mother,’’ Hadrian started tersely. “There’s no reason for you to worry but…” He looked at Henry who smiled faintly. It didn’t quite reach his eyes like usual. “I think we need to talk. Something happened tonight.”

James didn’t say a word as he listened to Henry. He had always believed that the truth was better not measured, but given in one unpleasant dose. However, this was too much to handle. Too soon…

He thought he would have time to talk to Henry and prepare him for the possible Lordship that awaited his claim. He thought he would offer him what little information was saved for centuries in Lord Hardwin Potter the First’s journals.

Like a slow-moving wave on the horizon careening toward shore, the anger, the desperation and the guilt built inside his chest to a frightening crescendo ready to crash. His fists clenched at his side, and his eyes blazed like the pits of hellfire.

Why him? No father would like to see his son go through this.

He took a step back but Lily put her hand on his arm and shook her head in warning. Hadn’t she been his pillar, the most stable presence in his life for years?

He wanted to utter a string of curses that would have made Lily hex him for his blasphemous soul for weeks but he refrained. The old, spoiled James Potter was gone for good. He no longer had temper tantrums. He was a father now, so he decided to act like a father should.

“Henry, Hadrian,” he sighed. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. Come and take a seat.”

Henry’s heartbeat roared in her ears, his heart thumping so madly he felt faint. Breathing in frantic bursts, he turned to face Director Ragnok who stared at him, his beady eyes gleaming with a strange, mad light.

“I never thought I’d live to see this day.” His lips twisted. “To see the oldest Lordship in Magical Britain claimed and House Peverell restored…” he tsked.

“Not that anyone would hear of it, right?” Sirius hissed.

“My lips are sealed, Lord Black. For the right price, of course,” he sneered. “I’m afraid, though, a Blood Test is in order to confirm Mr Potter’s claim.”

“Of course,” James rolled his eyes.

Henry wondered if he should go through this. He had never coveted titles, never envied Harry his two Heirships. He was content in being Henry Potter; another son of one of the oldest and most prestigious Houses in Magical Britain. Naturally, he intended to do his utmost best to keep his ancestors’ legacy alive. He aspired to become a Battle Mage like his grandfather one day but that was the full extent of his dreams. However, to claim the Peverell Lordship...

“Henry,” Harry touched his shoulder gently. “Don’t overthink it. Maybe this is the answer to all our problems. Everything happens for a reason. Just remember, you are not alone. You have our support.”

“And you don’t even have to announce the news.” Sirius' smile was strained. “The rules do not apply to House Peverell.”

“I never wanted any of this,” he sighed.

“That’s the thing,” Director Ragnok snorted.”You don’t ask for the Peverell Lordship. The Peverell Magic chooses you and you have no choice but to answer its call. Death touched you when you were thirteen months old. You’ve been his ever since.”

James growled and Henry feared that by the end of the day, his father might kill the Head of Gringotts and start a war with the Goblins.

Trying to think above the frenzy, he took a shivering breath and blinked hard then gripped the offered dagger and nicked the tip of his finger. Carefully he smeared his blood over the old parchment and waited.

He was a hairsbreadth from sighing in relief when the words that would decide his fate appeared.

“Henry Fleamont Potter Peverell…” He heard the eerie words in his head again. “…My Chosen….I shall take care of you like I did thirteen years ago….”

“I had no reason to doubt you," Director Ragnok said smoothly, looking deep into his eyes. “I merely wanted to see it for myself. This is a most joyous occasion. Welcome back, Lord Peverell.”

It would have been a massive understatement to say he was confused. He frowned when his father retrieved a ring with a strange-looking black stone from his pocket and offered it to him. “I think you should consider using a Concealment Charm,” he cleared his throat. “The last thing you want is people pestering you about the ring.”

“No one keeps a secret more carefully than a Peverell.” Harry’s lips curled. “Go ahead. It’s yours.”

Henry bit his lip and took the ring. He quivered at the feel of it on his skin, the graze of Death Magic was so alluring. His veins were lit up, sizzling with power.

It felt so….right.

Chapter Text

It was eerily still in his head. All Henry could see through the fog was shards of comforting black laced with ribbons of gold. After taking a fortifying breath, he resumed the strenuous task of trying to hold his pure magic shield against Hadrian’s continuous attacks. Moving with the light, sure-footed grace of a wolf, nimble and fast, Hadrian flicked his wand with the ease and expertise earned from years of rigorous training.

That, however, did not mean that Henry intended to accept defeat. He could barely feel his fingertips from the strain of gripping his wand tight. His muscles ached with the exertion of four hours of Duelling. If it were anyone else, he would have put an end to the challenge but it was his brother and Hadrian would never go easy on him—not that he wanted him to.

Hadrian was a skilled and fearless Duellist who tackled whatever spell the opponent threw his way with unwavering determination and grit. He epitomized the only code every Potter and Black admired: Never give up, never surrender. He reminded Henry of a sleeping snake waiting to strike.

Hadrian smiled. “Are you alright? I admit I am very impressed.”

He scoffed. “Says the one who’s been throwing Dark Curses created by Lord Altair Black the First at me all morning.”

“But you are holding your own,” Hadrian smirked. “I believe that short of a Killing Curse, you have nothing to worry about. Your Occlumency Shields are impenetrable for Voldemort or his ilk to get inside your head. As for the Killing Curse—” He stopped abruptly and looked down.

Both brothers sobered at the reminder of that fateful night thirteen years ago. Henry’s lips pinched together. “I’m not afraid. I don’t care what awaits us tomorrow. I want it to end. Thirteen years is a very long time to exact one’s revenge. I want our family’s life back”

“Grandfather would’ve wanted you to be safe above all else,” Hadrian gave him a rueful smile.

“He would’ve preferred a fighter to a coward to call a grandson.” Something inside his chest snapped into place. Resolution. A single-minded determination to find Voldemort, strike him back with all the rage he’d been harbouring for years. His course was very clear. He’d made up his mind and there was no turning back.

He felt the weight of the Ressurection Stone on his finger and exhaled. His veins were brimming with Death Magic it was a struggle to control the potency of his offensive spells.

His gaze went inadvertently to his wand and he frowned as he studied his faithful companion. His pulse spiked and his heart took a sudden lurch against his ribs. It couldn’t be. The wand chose the wizard and his Holly and Phoenix Feather wand had chosen him, right? Why did the link they forged four years ago feel weaker? It was an odd, jarring sensation that made his heart quiver with icy fear. He could not lose his wand. His stomach turned and bile rose in the back of his throat at the thought of what he had to do if worse came to worst. Every instinct in his body rejected the idea of a broken bond. Even the Great Merlin needed his Staff to channel his magic. How was he supposed to fight without a wand?

He shook his head vigorously. He was certainly imagining things. Who could blame him considering everything he went through the past week? Time was so tight and he didn’t need something else to worry about. He was…

“Henry?” Hadrian grasped hold of his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Your face has gone pale all of a sudden. Did I go too hard on you? I apologize. I know you are still adjusting to the Peverell Family Magic.”

“My wand has been acting up,” Henry confessed with a spur of irrational anger. ‘’It started the day we went to Gringotts. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

For a nerve-wracking moment, Hadrian seemed to be fighting to control his shock. He'd known him long enough but he’d seldom expressed such reaction. “Your wand?” His gaze dropped instantly to his wand hand.

“Do you think it has something with the Peverell Lordship?”

“I don’t know much about Wandlore but…” Hadrian said in a calm voice. “Hollywood symbolizes strength and resilience, even in the harshest of winters. That wand has certainly served you faithfully for four years. I can understand why a Potter would be picked by Holly. But you are not only a Potter, now.” Henry shivered as he heard a satisfied hum in his head. “You’ve crossed an important threshold and you need something else for the remainder of your journey.”

“Something that symbolizes Death. The beginning and the end….” His mouth went dry as words flew out of his lips. “Elderwood….”

Hadrian nodded grimly. “You need the wand that no one should look for. The Elder Wand .”

His head snapped up. “But….”

“We happen to know who’d been using it for decades.” Hadrian gave him an uncertain look, trying to gauge his reaction. When he remained still, he added. “It was never been his to begin with. The Elder Wand is temperamental, vicious and picky. No one can win its loyalty. You are Lord Peverell. Its allegiance is yours.”

Henry sighed then squared his shoulders and met his brother’s gaze, steel to steel. “Then, I have to get back what’s rightfully mine. I can’t fight Voldemort without a wand.”

Hadrian pushed all other thoughts from his mind, refusing to think about the restless magic building and burning inside him like a volcano ready to explode, as he made his way back to the Dungeons.

He was so deep in thought he barely noticed the other Aura in the deserted corridor. Hidden in the shadows, Heir Theo Nott let the Obscure Charm down and gave him a nod.

Hadrian arched a questioning brow up. “That’s quite a useful charm, Theo.”

Crossing his arms, Theo eyed him blankly. “Blacks are not the only ones who dabbled in Dark and Obscure Magic. House Nott has its own little black book.”

“Duly noted,” he smirked. “That being said, I believe you have a more important reason for seeking me than showing off.”

“I don’t show off,” Theo’s lips pursed so tightly. “Knowledge is power. It would be foolish to flaunt my power carelessly.”

“Wiser words were never said,” Hadrian nodded. “I can see now why the Hat put you in the snake pit. This is where you belong.”

Theo shrugged. “It’s where I belong. You’re right, Heir Potter-Black. I was looking for you.”

He looked at the younger boy and his lips twitched with an encouraging smile, a hint of expectation came into his gaze as he spoke. “Have you considered my offer? I talked to Sirius and he agreed to support you until you came of age. You know you will be safe with him as your Magical Guardian. Your father will have no power over you unless he wants to start a Blood Feud with House Black. I, for one, believe that Theodorus Nott is not that foolish.”

Theo gave him a lingering look. “Notts pay their debts. My bastard of a father might have besmirched the family’s name for years. He bent the knee to a monster but I’m not my father. I intend to restore my family’s name as soon as I take my seats in the Wizengamot. In three years.”

“So you are willing to take my offer?” Hadrian said very slowly.

Theo had impressed him over the years. Despite the abuse, he persevered. At times, he sensed the strain in his magic. It was suffering. But he always picked himself up and refused to give up. It was obvious that the Selwyn blood ran thick in his veins for his maternal ancestors were renowned for their resilience and talent in politics. It was no wonder that their Motto was: The Devil Took Care of His Own. It didn’t take a genius to understand that Theo’s only loyalty was to himself. He could never fully become part of a team or give his trust willingly. He was betrayed by those who should’ve protected him and it left a lasting mark in his soul. Like him, the younger boy had known loss and tasted grief. Unlike him, he had no one to turn to.

Hadrian could read most people. After all, he was taught by the great Arcturus Sirius Black and even though Theo seemed like an impenetrable hole of blackness, he didn’t need to wonder why he had agreed to fight by his side and accept his proposition. It wasn’t a death wish or a complicated plan to go out in a blaze of glory. He wanted the same thing he spent thirteen years thirsting for. Revenge.

“I accept Lord Black’s generous offer. I would be honoured to have him as my Magical Guardian for three years. No matter how much people fear your family, no one can question a Black’s honour.”

Hadrian folded his arms over his chest. “I’ll let Sirius know. You can undergo the ritual as soon as the year ends. I trust you are fully aware of the consequences of your choice. Not that Sirius or I would ever betray you.”

For a moment there was only silence. “I can imagine worse fates than swearing Vassalage to House Black. I’ve been your ally for two years so not much will change. You are too honourable to force your will on me.”

“We’ll protect you with everything we have,” Hadrian vowed. “You’ll be safe with us. We’ll support you in restoring House Nott and House Selwyn’s names.”

“I know.” Theo’s voice came out strangled as if he was fighting a tight ball of emotion. “But before we come to that, my father and the other sycophants he calls friends have to die.”

Hadrian’s mind started spinning in a thousand different directions. Straightening, he met Theo’s cold gaze. He was wrong, the boy was indeed ruthless. With the morals of a snake. More likely, to cut his enemy’s throat than give him a second chance.

“You don’t want them to pay for their misdeeds?” He shrugged as if the answer wasn’t important to him.

“Nothing can wash their shame but death,” Theo observed coldly. “I lost faith in our esteemed Ministry years ago. A system that turns a blind eye to abuse is dead to me.”

It was the first time Theo had admitted to being abused, the first crack in his stony facade. Hadrian’s fist clenched. He wanted to apparate to Nott Manor and torture Theodorus for days. He was aware of how much the admission had cost Theo. He was furious with the way his father had treated him for years—at first patronizing and then lashing out in anger. Theo had shown him everything he had to offer, tried his best to please him and it still wasn't enough. Theodorus had no place in this world. Not in Theo’s life, not in his heart.

He also knew that Theo didn’t want his pity or his ire. He wanted his support and his guidance. He needed a family.

“Very well, we’ll deal with Theodorus accordingly,” he promised.

Theo’s answer was a firm nod. “Then you should get ready for tomorrow. Voldemort has put his plan in motion. My personal elf has been spying for me. Somehow, they managed to get into the maze unnoticed. They tampered with the wards and…. with the trophy. They want Henry. Alone.”

Hadrian exhaled, keeping a tight rein on his anger. “They will get what they want,” he sneered. “But according to my family’s terms. No one touches my brother. Ever.”

Relaxing slightly under Hadrian’s soothing hand, Daphne sighed. He omitted to tell her about his plans for tomorrow but she knew that something big was going to take place. Something that would end all his worries and bitterness. There was no other option. She believed in him as much as she believed in herself.

He brushed his fingers down her unbound her and pressed his lips to her forehead before he reached out for her hand. Daphne shivered as his piercing, emerald gaze danced over her. “I missed you.”

She was sure something in his face twinkled, his eyes, his smile, something.

“You are only a few days away from graduation,” she whispered touching his chest.

His smile warmed her. He glanced up at the starry sky and shook his head. “And do you know what’s next?”

She tilted her head to the side. “The vacation?”

He lifted an amused brow. “Our future. I’ll send a Betrothal Contract to Lord Greengrass as soon as I graduate. You are mine, Daphne. And I am yours, if you want to have me, that is,” he smirked.

Daphne’s icy-blue, tear-filled eyes locked on his, dominating her pale face. For a moment, time seemed to stop. They stared at each other, something big and powerful passing between them. An emotion so foreign and welcome. She didn't even know how to describe it, except that it filled her chest with a hot ball of longing and excitement.

She wanted to throw decorum and caution to the wind and let out a happy screech, but she did the second best. Heedless of anything around them, or the blood and death that awaited him tomorrow, she catapulted herself into his arms. She was deeply conscious of him, of his broad shoulders and powerful arms. Of his spicy, masculine scent.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, and something shifted inside her. Something warm and powerful. Holding him tight in her arms, she murmured. “I love you, Hadrian Potter-Black. Please, come back to me.”

He dropped his head. Her breath caught in anticipation. The naughty smile returned to his face. "I'm afraid I have every intention of spending a long, eventful life with you, Heiress Greengrass." He leaned closer to her, pressing his mouth on her jaw, on her neck. Right by her ear. "I love you, too.”

Releasing her hand, he captured her lips with his and sighed into her mouth when her arms finally circled his shoulders. Relief rushed through her.

Sweet Salazar, she loved kissing him. He took his time to savour and explore. She couldn't get enough of him, gorging on the simple pleasure of kissing him that she'd been denied for days.

When he pulled away, breaking the kiss, her gasp of displeasure made him smile. “We’ll have plenty of that this summer, my love. I promise.”

“I expect nothing less, Heir Potter-Black,” she replied smoothly, and his grin widened.

“By the way, I believe I found a way to save Astoria,” he breathed softly. “It’s good to be surrounded by powerful and knowledgeable people, like Grandfather Arcturus would say.”

Emotion tightened her chest. It was the most poignant moment of her life. She hadn't known she could ever feel this happy, this close to someone. This complete.

His hand lifted to her face, and he brushed away a stray tear with his thumb. More happy tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, tears she had no control over. Not anymore.

“Thank you….”

Her chest burned with tenderness when his lips grazed her cheek ever so lovingly. “You have nothing to thank me for. Astoria is family, it’s my duty and privilege to protect her. Just one day...”

“Just one day,” she repeated.

And then we’ll have a lifetime together… she reminded herself.

Chapter Text

Henry stared at the ceiling and drew the bedsheets down to his chest. He would be lying if he didn’t admit he felt stupidly nervous and unsure of himself, feelings he was ill-accustomed to, and they annoyed him. Perversely, he was also excited and couldn’t wait for the cursed Third Task to commence so he could be done with the nightmarish haze of the last couple of weeks.

He lifted his hand and stared at Peverell Ring. Sirius helped him cast an Obscure spell to hide it from prying eyes so only his family members could see it. Forcing himself to breathe evenly, he tried to remember the strategy he worked on tirelessly with Harry, his parents and Sirius. He had to stick to the plan, he reminded himself sternly. Now that he was no longer a Horcrux, failure was not an option. He might be bold and relentless like every Gryffindor worthy of his red and gold tie, but he was not reckless. Self-preservation was paramount.

“Good morning,” Ron poked his head through the curtains. When he did not immediately speak, he pressed on brightly. “No doubt you have many things to worry about. But”—he paused heavily a moment—‘’ But you came so far. You are the youngest Triwizard Champion in history. I trust you will find a way to tackle the maze. You’ve been training for months. Your hard work will certainly pay off.”

Henry’s lips twitched when he heard a groan. Neville was wiping his face with a towel. “Ron, that’s enough.” He flung his towel at their friend’s head making him scowl.

“I’m being a considerate friend,” Ron muttered in a muffled voice.

“You’re worried about me.” Henry sighed flinging the bedsheets from him. Slowly, he sat and swung his legs off the mattress.

He had no sooner set his foot on the floor when he found himself seized about the waist and hoisted back onto the bed. He found all the breath squeezed out of him as Hermione followed him down onto the mattress, practically on top of him, pinning him beneath her much smaller body. He gave a muffled squeak and lay stunned beneath his girlfriend. “Er…Hermione?”

She blinked down at him as though similarly taken aback by their position. What he noticed, though, were her tear-streaked cheeks. He did not move away, just remained very still, the only sound in the room was their breathing. Henry was just steeling himself to say something, anything, when Neville broke the silence. “I—W-we’ll wait for y-you downstairs.”

“But—“ Ron’s face had turned bright pink in blotches.

“No buts,” Neville hissed. “I told you to stop talking. Follow me.”

When he refused to cooperate, Ron was shoved unceremoniously out of the room. Henry chuckled when Neville shut the door behind them. “You were right. He got the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

Hermione sniffed and hit him on the shoulder. “Don’t try to distract me. You’re hiding something from me. I’m not stupid, Henry Fleamont Potter!”

Henry flinched. Hurting Hermione was the last thing he wanted, not when he was about to fight the battle of his life. It felt like cutting himself. He leaned up and kissed her teary cheek tenderly. “You’re not only my girlfriend. You are my best friend and the person I trust most. You are family.”

She sighed when his arms snaked around her protectively. “Then tell me. Why did you leave the school in a hurry that night? Why do I feel that you are different? And why does Hadrian look worried? I might not know him very well but I’ve never seen him this tense. He seldom shows feelings in public.”

“Whoa.” Henry let his head drop down. “One question at a time.”

“What’s going on? What’s going to happen tonight in the maze?” She wriggled away from him, glowering. Henry smiled. Hermione made a sight to behold. He was certain she wasn’t aware of the way her hair whizzed around her slim shoulders, thrumming with power. Her magic was glorious. One day, she would become the strongest witch of her age. The Fates had been good to him. Four years ago, he met his best friend and the only witch he would ever love. She was very pretty and quite fearless. She spoke her mind, fought for what she believed in and laughed with abandon. She was his perfect match.

He sat slowly and took her hand in his. “I didn’t mean to hide anything from you. I trust you. I’ve always trusted you. You are my confidante.”

When she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, he caught a handful of her wild tresses and smiled. “I’ll explain everything in great detail tomorrow. I need you to trust me on this.”

“You know I trust you.” A protest emanated from her pursed lips.

He grinned and hoisted her up to his chest, making her gasp. He kissed her jaw tenderly and whispered. “Chance has thrown something beyond measure at my feet and I see no reason why I should refuse it.”

There were, however, many things to consider and a hefty price to pay but he didn’t want to burden Hermione with the details yet. It would take at least a week to answer her questions.

“Are you sure? Will you be safe?” she pressed.

“I will. Moreover, I have Harry and you know how he is,” he rolled his eyes playfully.

She sighed. “I wish I had a brother like yours. You have no idea how lucky you are.”

Henry’s fingers went instinctively to the pendant Harry gave him several years ago. “Believe me, I know.”

“I wonder how they plan to break Hogwarts wards,” Cassius inquired calmly as if they were discussing the weather.

“Another spy?” Adrian pointed out, his twinkling icy-blue eyes resting steadily on the judges.

“They won't use the same strategy twice,” Marcus replied eyeing Adrian exasperatedly. “I hope you’re not suspecting Dumbledore, you’ve been looking at him for ages.”

Adrian shrugged. “Who knows? Voldemort is a crafty man and Dumbledore is old and barmy.”

Hadrian slid his friend a sceptical look. “He’s very resourceful indeed but Dumbledore is one of the greatest wizards known to our kind. Never underestimate him.”

Adrian nodded reluctantly. “Then how? We’ve been keeping an eye on the maze for weeks and nothing happened.”

Hadrian’s cold gaze slid to the crowd and clashed with that of Lucius Malfoy and Theodorus Nott. His fingers itched to grab his wand and curse them beyond what their unworthy hides could take. They were despicable Mudbloods; traitors to their own and to Mother Magic.

His eyes moved slightly and Draco nodded carefully. Whether to leave or to stay was not an easy decision, he was yet to show his true colours. A vicious smile twisted Hadrian’s lips. House Malfoy took great pride in grooming the perfect Heirs. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on Lucius’ face when he learned where his son’s true allegiance lay. It seemed he had overlooked the crucial detail that a Black—even a half one—would never turn his back to the family. The Family Magic would judge him harshly for the betrayal.

He sensed Sirius before he saw him. His Father by magic lay a protective arm over his shoulder in a rare display of affection. “How is my favourite son doing?” he questioned with reluctant amusement. It was half-pain, half-regret to hear the fear in Sirius’ voice. The man had sacrificed so much for Houses Black and Potter and the last thing he wanted was to add to his burden.

“I'm your only son and I’m ready,” he grabbed his elbow and pressed tightly, letting his magic nourish the bond they’d shared for over a decade.

Sirius’ eyes widened but he didn’t comment. He cleared his throat and whispered. “Your father and I happened to pass by as Lucius and Theodorus were busy. James took care of the Aurors and made it possible for them to carry their mission. Of all the Death Eaters who might have helped him, to think that Voldemort would trust a good-for-nothing peacock like Lucius Malfoy,” he tsked. “How the mighty have fallen.”

“He dies tonight,” Hadrian replied coldly. “He’s a Mudblood and a Kinslayer and so is Theodorus.”

“They will.” Hadrian and Sirius were amazed when Lily joined them. A spark of determination danced in her emerald-green eyes as she seized her wand tightly. She was dressed in blood red from head to toe, House Potter’s heraldic colours—the one they wore for battle.

“Mother…”

She gave him a smirk. “Don’t tell me I’ve startled my eldest. I thought I’ve raised you better than that.”

Hadrian smiled when his mother hugged him loosely. “I’ll leave with your father and Sirius shortly. The rest should be waiting for us.”

“I understand. Don’t worry, I’ll keep Henry safe,” he vowed.

Lily took his face between her hands and shook her head. He noticed the tears she tried to hide. “Sometimes I wonder if I made you somehow think that Henry’s life is more valuable than yours. You’re sorely mistaken if you believe so. Both of you are my precious sons. You are my eldest, my Harry, the son I love most. I’ll burn this world if something happens to you. Come back to your family.”

“I want my one hundred Galleons,” James drawled insouciantly, pushing his palm in Sirius’ face. “I told you time and again that Lily loves Hadrian more.”

Sirius huffed. “I don’t remember ever making a bet with you. I’m above such childish activities.”

James gaped at his best friend.

Hadrian and Lily stared at each other and burst out laughing at the two men’s dramatics.

Once a Marauder, always a Marauder.

Excitement burned through the air as Hadrian and Henry walked onto what used to be the Quidditch field. The Slytherins stood to attention, their expressions as prideful and cool as ever. He sought Daphne among the crowd and found her sitting next to her parents and Astoria who seemingly found it hard to remain still. She waved at him excitedly and mouthed ‘bring the Triwizard cup back or I’ll never forgive you.’

Hadrian’s mouth curved in a momentary touch of amusement and he waved at the little firecracker he came to consider family. He couldn’t wait for the holidays to start so they could lift the Blood Curse and give her the carefree life she was denied for years.

Brooding worry filtered through the icy-blue of Daphne’s eyes, like a summer sky filling with smoke as she nodded at him. She fought to conceal her upheaval with a calm, offhand smile but he knew her so well. It gutted him how much worry he had caused her however, he promised himself he would make amends for it for the rest of his life.

The judges came walking into the field, followed by Hogwarts’ professors.

Bagman cast a Sonorus with his wand and bellowed. “Ladies and gentlemen, the last task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to start.” That elicited a round of applause and cheers from the gathering. “In the first place is Heir Potter-Black, followed by Mr Potter, Mr Krum and Mademoiselle Delacour.”

Hadrian gripped Henry’s shoulder. “Here we are at last. It’s obvious that what has already been done can’t be repaired,” he said, his eyes measuring his brother’s reaction to his words. It was necessary to make him completely aware of what their circumstances were. “We lost Grandfather to Voldemort and we will never get him back. Fortunately,’’ he continued flatly. “The Fates gifted us the chance to avenge our family and end our enemy. I know you don’t need my protection, you have it anyway. Do what you must, Lord Peverell.”

Henry’s eyes blazed with determination as he took a deep breath and flicked his Holly and Phoenix Feather wand. A pained exhale left his lips as he fisted it.

Hadrian shivered at the chilly air that filled the field the moment his brother let the Peverell Magic loose. Thankfully, only a few could detect Auras as perfectly as he and Cassius could. Dumbledore stilled and his expression became troubled. Frowning, he lifted his wand and studied it. He shook his head hastily but it was too late. His eyes clashed with Henry whose eyes— to Hadrian’s surprise —were no longer hazel, but obsidian. A black tear run down Henry’s cheek as his wand disintegrated, refusing to have another owner. “Come to me, Deathstick.” He whispered, his voice getting lost in the cry of the Phoenix as the last ashes of the Holly wand touched the ground.