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Chapter Text

It was never supposed to end like this.

They were supposed to rule the world together and change the wizarding world for the better.

He grips the flower bouquet hard as it rains- hiding his tears. He’s the only one here now, nobody else could take it.

The graveyard was silent apart from the steady drizzle.

Though there was a crunch of leaves and he snarls, “Don’t come any closer.”

Albus Dumbledore paused and surveyed Tom Riddle, standing at the grave stone of one Hadrian Black.

Tom shakes violently, grief and rage stirring inside of him like molten lava.

Everything he’d known- everything he knew had died when Hadrian did. He knelt and placed Hadrians favourite flowers in front of the stone. The blue and yellow lilies were bright in the dark evening. Only the street lamps provided light enough to see.

He was soaked to the bone and he knelt in front of Hadrian as he shakes with silent sobs.

The only reason Dumbledore wasn’t dead was because Hadrian had seen the man as a father. Had defended Dumbledore and Tom had seen why sometimes. Had seen the protectiveness from Dumbledore when he defended his students- defeating Grindelwald had made everyone understand Dumbledore a bit better too.

But he still hated Dumbledore- couldn’t not hate the man for bringing him to and from the orphanage to school and all those manipulations-

He’d talked to Hadrian about it frequently. Why did he protect Dumbledore despite everything.

His answer had been simple.

He’ll die for this world.

Hadrian had some gift in the magic of being a seer- no matter what he objected to. Because he’d always known more things than others. How he’d known when the war would end- the day in the muggle world. He’d known when Grindelwald would fall. He’d known about the orphanage too- or had hinted to it. Now it hurt just that much- had he known he’d die?

Now he’d never hear his voice again and it was driving him insane- just the thought hurt. Everything about it hurt and he clenches his pants tightly, kneeling.

True to his word Dumbledore didn’t move, watching the boy he’d thought never had a shred of compassion for anybody. He’d hidden everything with Hadrian so well, that while this wasn’t necessarily a shock, it was still surprising.

He had wrongly judged Tom. Hadrian had spoken to him about that. That Tom had dark tendencies but in the end he just wanted to be powerful enough he’d never be cast aside again. He wanted to be loved- but thought he could only get it through power.

Tom stopped crying after a while and stared at his grave.

“I’ll kill them,” he says quietly. Dumbledore locks eyes with Riddle- the tear stained face and the red eyes.

“Don’t be consumed by it,” Dumbledore says softly. He could not take revenge with his own two hands- but he could let Tom do it and remove the memories of it later.

Tom stands, leaving the lilies there.

Dumbledore had never met Hadrian Black’s mother as he was from a distant line. But her name was Lily and she’d been killed in the war.

“You won’t stop me Dumbledore. You’re only alive because Hadrian would hate me if I killed you too.”

Dumbledore looks at Tom and Tom looked at him.

Dumbledore saw the rage and venom in Tom and Tom saw the vengeance and worry and grief in Dumbledore.

There was a mutual understanding and Dumbledore revealed a white lotus bouquet.

“I came here not to stop you but pay my respects.” Tom just nodded, hair plastered to his forehead and he leaves.

Orion Black, Reinhard Lestrange, Thaddeus Nott, Abraxas Malfoy and Aden Avery stood waiting further away, dressed in black and green suits. Both to show their heritage, history and to pay respect to the dead green eyed man.

“We’re going to cause some issues,” he tells them quietly and they all held umbrellas- keeping themselves dry and with a spell he dries himself off.

Their haggard faces watched him.

He’d died for them all- Orion had recently come to ally himself with them.

They all give him grim looks.

“We’ll do this together.”

Tom looks at the group of allies around him- or his friends as Hadrian used to put it.

Yes. They were his friends. He’d make sure they were always his friends.

“Let’s go.” Tom turned on his heels- something clasped tightly in his right hand.

Chapter Text

~Hogwarts : Day of Champion Selection : Author Perspective~

Everyone was silent as they beheld the blue trophy. Albus Dumbledore stood beside it looking quite different from what was probably expected from anybody that had lived in the past timeline.

He had taken care of his beard- it was short and well groomed while he’d kept shoulder length white hair and it was currently tied up in a bun. He had a spectacle over his eye and wore a clean wizarding robe of white, blue grey and blue. Though he wore a muggle vest, slacks and shoes underneath all of that.

Beside him stood Madam Maxine and Igor Karkaroff.

The tables had forgotten about Hadrian Potter not showing up to Hogwarts four years ago.

He was missing and while it was a frequently talked about topic- it was hopeless.

The first name erupted from the Goblet.

“From Durmstrang we have Viktor Krum!” Viktor stood and walked to Dumbledore, shaking the mans hand before standing off to the side.

“From Beauxbatons we have… Fleur Delacour!” Cheering and the girl stood next to Viktor Krum.

“And lastly from Hogwarts we have… Cedric Diggory!” Wild applause from Hufflepuff as the boy stood next to the other champions.

“Now that that is over-” but Dumbledore was interrupted by the Goblet of Fire shooting out another piece of paper.

Dumbledore grabs it and flips it over to gaze at the name.

“Who ez it?” Madam Maxine asks over the silence. Dumbledore says quietly,

“Hadrian Potter.” The hall descended into cries of disbelief.

“Hadrian Potter-”

“He’s alive-”

“Is he here-”

“How is his name in the Goblet?” Mrs McGonagall demands from behind him.

“I will look into it- until then please congratulate our Champions!” Everyone did so and then he lastly says, “Please continue with the feast!”

Albus quickly walks to his office- Minerva and Severus on his heels. As he does quite frequently, he looks at Severus.

Hadrian Black had known about a Severus Snape. The ex-Death Eater would no doubt report this to Voldemort.

He pretends not to know that. Minerva knows about Hadrian Black, Albus talks about him quite frequently and it had prompted his change some point after Grindelwald- in the late fifties. He’d cut his beard, hair and overall had changed into a more important figure.

He’d inherited the Lordship to the Dumbledore name and now he was in a prominent position to the Purebloods now as well as the public and the Ministry.

Albus murmurs to the Griffin, “Black.” It twists and they walk up to the office.

“Albus, the boy doesn’t know he’ll lose his magic if he doesn’t not compete.” Albus nods.

“I know.” He’d met Hadrian in the past- at Fleamonts’ home. He’d reminded him so much of Hadrian Black but even if he had been a reincarnation the boy had known nothing about his distant family member. Though he’d seemed intrigued.

When he’d never come on the Hogwarts Express and wasn’t there for the sorting he immediately went to Fleamont- but he remembers dropping him off at the platform.

So he either ran- or he’d been kidnapped or killed.

The latter was now discarded and he doesn’t think the boy would run from magic so kidnapped?

The boy was the only thing that could perhaps defeat Voldemort and bring back Tom Riddle.

After all Voldemort had killed the boys parents but taken one look at the boy that had resembled Hadrian and tried to kill him out of grief- and failed.

He doesn’t even think for a second Voldemort is dead. Tom was so hell bound on revenge that he’d do anything to accomplish it.

“We need to find him Albus,” Severus says slowly.

“Is your mark active?” He asks and Severus shakes his head.

He’s also aware Severus is a double agent- but allows it. The information he tells everyone needs to reach Voldemort.

“Then we’ll get the Ministry to look for the boy. If we use drastic measures we can find him. We’ll send the Aurors into the muggle world. That’s the only place he could have gone. Fleamont confirmed for me he had his wand and had very strong magic.”

“Is it possible he can defeat the Dark Lord?” Minerva asks cautiously around Severus. Severus had never been told of Hadrian Black- not from Albus’s lips by any means.

“I believe he can,” Albus confirms. But the way he’d have to do it… “But to be able to defeat him at all he needs his magic. Alert the ministry please Minerva.” She nods and glides away to use the fireplace for a floo call. He looks at Severus. “If you feel anything from Voldemort- I need to know to make sure these students are safe within these walls Severus.” His spy merely nods.

“Of course,” he drawls. “Is there anything else?” He waves the man away and he disappears to the dungeons.

He can hear Minerva communicating with ministry and a few minutes later she alerts him, “They’ll be looking. But they need permission from Cornelius.”

“That’s fine,” Dumbledore murmured. “The first task isn’t for another month anyway.” Minerva nods and asks,

“Do you believe Potter has any connection to Black?” Albus can say that he definitely does. Black had always been elusive, even during his Hogwarts years. That elusiveness had drawn Tom in and along with Tom it had drawn Fleamont Potter, Orion Black and many others in.

His mysterious past and his mental scars spoke of many things. But even when he was eleven he was far too wise.

It’s known that the Blacks are a very dark family- and Arcturus Black had recognised Hadrian as family and brought him to the main branch. But again, Hadrian had found many things after his tutoring in Hogwarts. He’d discovered countless lost Heir Looms- one that allowed Tom to claim his Lordship to the House of Slytherin. He’d found long lost grimoires so if he had the knowledge of reincarnation, it wouldn’t surprise Dumbledore. Whether it came with side effects or not was something he couldn’t ask the man.

But still he apparated to the Graveyard, in complete muggle clothes with a hat.

The park was empty, filled with rows and rows of graves. Blacks was only a few rows out- made of black obsidian and carved with his name,

Here lies,

Hadrian Black,

Son, brother, friend, student and lover,

Fata viam invenient.

“The fates will find a way,” he murmurs, gazing down at it and the planted lilies on each side of the headstone. He knelt on one knee in front of it. “Dear friend, where have you gone?” He whispers it, remembering the conversations he used to have with him.

“Come on Professor,” Hadrian taunts from his seat as they play chess in the transfiguration classroom. Albus chuckles. This kid.

He takes away a bishop. “Check.” Hadrian seemed to have expected it and moved his Queen and Dumbledore sighs.

“Checkmate.” Albus offers a smile.

“What does that make it? Five wins, four losses?” Hadrian gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It never really did.

“Precisely. Again Professor?”

“Why not. Jolly,” Albus calls out and the elf appears. “Can we have some biscuits and tea please.”

“Of course Professor Dumbledore.” The elf disappears and then appears again with a tray in hand and sets it on the desk.

They begin the game again and Dumbledore surveys the board and makes the first move. Placing the pawn in front of his horse.

“Have you ever thought, Professor, that Hogwarts needs to change?” Surprised by the question he looks at Hadrian, whose green eyes watched him.

“In what aspect Hades?” It was a nickname that Hadrian didn’t quite mind- he never did.

“With all due respect Professor, I believe the Headmaster is incompetent.” Albus agreed, but he wanted to know why the boy thought that.

“How so?” He asks.

“I believe he doesn’t fight for what needs to be done. He simply is content with what already is.”

“What should a Headmaster be and do then Hades?” Hadrian looks at the board, contemplated and the moved a piece before answering.

“A Headmaster should be able to face the repercussion of making hard decisions for the betterment of the students. A Headmaster should be able to communicate and understand the students. The Headmaster hardly interacts with us unless he has to. I believe he’s in the position for the influence rather than actually being there for us.”

“Are there others who agree?” Hadrian looks at him calmly, his eyes betraying nothing. “I shall take that as a yes.” Albus made his move and Hadrian moves a piece far away from his horse that was threatening to take his own.

So he settled that it was a trap and moved elsewhere.

“I believe you would make a good Headmaster Dumbledore. Under the right circumstances.”

“And what circumstances are those?” Albus asks, amused. But Hadrian looked completely honest so he took the boy seriously.

“I believe that Dippet is going to fail in his duties and ultimately create a strain on the school. He could be convinced during that time to retire with his reputation in tact and he would give the position to you.”

“Manipulations?” He asks the boy but the Slytherin boy only shrugged.

“Perhaps Professor. But in the end it will all be necessary. I plan on making changes to make sure I leave Hogwarts better than I found her. I believe we should also make a map for Hogwarts. For new students and just because we haven’t yet explored all her secrets.” Albus knew the boy was right and wondered what had possessed him to bring it up.

“I will look into it.” Hadrian had been known for also predicting certain events. Albus wants his opinion on something. “Hadrian, I’m aware this is a burden to place on you but I must ask.” Hadrian moves his piece and answers swiftly,

“No burden is too big Professor. Please tell me.” Albus takes in a deep breath.

“Can I defeat Grindelwald.”

“Yes.” He blinks at Hadrians utterly confident answer and before Albus can say anything Hadrian continues. “I don’t say it lightly professor. It won’t be easy but I believe you can do it.”

“You have utter faith?” Albus asks, moving a piece a bit blindly. Hadrian clucks his tongue.

“You lost concentration professor. Checkmate.” Surprised he looks down and finds he is indeed in checkmate and sighs. He’d moved his queen, of all of them. “But yes, I have complete faith. Six to four.” Albus chuckles. “But be careful. I sense there’s blood between you.” Albus blinks and Hadrian had a far away look. “There’s always loop holes,” Hadrian says at last, looking at Albus with a smile. “It’s like the stories of the Fay.” Albus smiles, shaking his head. There was no way Hadrian knew of the Blood Pact.

“Thank you for your vote in confidence.” Hadrian grabs his tea and toasts,

“To that confidence.” Albus laughs and toasts to it.

“To that confidence.” They drink and Albus says with a sigh, “You are aware your one of the few who actually like me from Slytherin.”

“I’m highly aware,” Hadrian says wryly, taking a biscuit covered in chocolate. “But I have my own reasons. The reason they don’t like you professor is because you propose merging with muggles and taking away the pureblood traditions. They’re afraid you’ll make them change to accept muggleborn’s. I suggest if you continue down that path you be very careful with how you tread. If you propose a scheme to make the muggleborn’s learn Pureblood traditions I’m sure the transfer will come that much easier.” Albus saw the truth in it. He’d already experienced many of the Head families dislike to the idea.

“And you Hades? Do you believe I should bring muggles into it.” Hadrian had an answer immediately. Clearly he’d given it a long thought.

“I believe no magical child should be denied. But… it’s undeniable that muggles are dangerous. I’ve experienced parts of the war outside of Diagon Alley and I think it’s truly terrifying Professor. This event will leave an imprint on everyones minds. But… while I do think not all muggles are bad- I refuse to reveal myself to them.”

“Even if some of them are good?”

“Good is subjective professor. It’s in human nature to fear or lust after what they don’t know. Therefore not all are good.” Albus again, saw truth in his words. Hadrian checked the time with a tempus and then stood. “I thank you for your time Professor.”

“And I thank you for yours Hades.” The boy left Albus with thoughts worth their weight in gold.

Albus gazes at the stone and sighs.

He heard footsteps and swivelled to look up at one Reinhard Lestrange. He was looking no older than he had the day he’d seen him at the graveyard border. The man looked in his late twenties with curly black-brown hair, threatening brown eyes and tanned skin.

Though he looked more worn and annoyed.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time, Headmaster,” the man says in dark tone. There was a hint of something twisted in his voice.

“Mr Lestrange,” Albus says, standing from Hadrians grave. Reinhard glanced at it and then settled his dark gaze on him again. Untrusting but they had a mutual respect whenever they visited his grave. It was different if they met elsewhere but this pact of having peace here had stemmed from Hadrian himself. “I just came to speak to Mr Black.” Reinhard grunts, shoving his hands into an expensive looking coat.

“So you say.”

He’s not sure what catches his attention- but he looks across the street and makes eye contact with brilliant green eyes of a boy in a suit. He had jet black hair and watches them warily.

Reinhard looks over and inhales sharply.

The boy then continues and Albus mindlessly takes a step forward- but the boy disappears amongst the people.

“Hadrian Potter lives,” Reinhard says darkly.

No. That didn’t look anything like James Potter or Lily Evans. Perhaps Reinhard had forgotten what Hades looked like when he was younger.

Because that was was exactly what he’d looked like in his fourth year. Tall, lean and dressed neatly. But it was the expression he’d had that had made him look like Hades.

Merlin the competition-

“Hadrian Potter is ours,” Reinhard says flatly, flashing Albus a look. “We will destroy him so I suggest you don’t try to save him.”

Save Hadrian Potter? Save?

“Mr Potter is supposed to destroy Voldemort.” Reinhard gave him a warning look.

“As that may be- if he never faces Voldemort, he can do nothing.” Albus looks at Reinhard darkly.

“I am Mr Potter’s magical guardian. I’m certain Sirius and Regulus would also kick up a fuss if you were to kill him. There will always be people who will protect Mr Potter.” Reinhard stared at him, long and hard.

“I will never understand you, I think Dumbledore. You are very two faced.” Albus puts his hands in his pockets and looks out over the graveyards, the wind moving his hair a bit.

“I have a facade to maintain Reinhard. I am old, not senile.” Reinhard chuckles a bit under his breath.

“Perhaps not. We may just have underestimated you.” Albus looks at his former student and just says,

“Try not to swear at him,” and steps around the man, leaving him to talk with his old friend. Reinhard said not a word as Albus apparated back to Hogwarts.

Minerva was waiting for him.

“Voldemorts Triarii are active.” Minerva swore colourfully. “And Hadrian Potter was spotted opposite the Eastthorne Graveyard.” Minerva blinks,

“Hadrian Blacks grave?” He nods curtly.

“I think that was why he was there yes.”

“Searching for family perhaps?” She asks.

“Why not return to the Dursley’s?” He replies.

“A spy perhaps for the third party in this war?” He shrugs.

“I’m unsure. The Ministry?”

“Have warranted the search and I’ll inform them of Hadrians earlier position.” She walks quickly to the floo and he sits. He has a new book of Hogwarts Laws- ones he’d rebuilt. Some with Hadrian and those were the best. The rest he’d had some third party input and built up.

Until then… he just needs to wait.

Chapter Text

It was quiet in the muggle world. A bit too quiet. He walks down the side path in silence.

But maybe it was seeing Dumbledore that had done that.

Honestly he’d seen the pictures and almost couldn’t recognise the man from what he remembers.

At the same time he’s not surprised. He did inspire that change after all- in some form or another.

He steps into the old house that sat alone on the lane of apartments. Unlocking it with a key he pushes inside to find the interior is well decorated and fresh. A slave is taking care of everything and Hadrian closes the door silently and watches the slave wipe the windows.

It’s not like he’d bought the slave- the guy had just been thrust onto his doorsteps and begged for him to take him in as a slave. He’d checked his memories and found them to be odd but he’d truly only needed a master.

The vampire looked over his shoulder and blinks before turning and bowing. “My Lord.”

“Edwin.” The vampires blonde hair has been cut short and red eyes looked everywhere but at him. He’s not sure if the vampire can tell somehow he’s not quite human. “Do not mind me.” Edwin nods and returns to the window. He continues as if Hadrian isn’t there and that’s how it’s been between the two of them- for years.

He’d bought this place when he was eleven and had been three years since. Edwin had been placed on these steps half a year into his first year here and had barely left.

Hadrian supplied him with his own blood when the vampire needed it. He’s grateful. Edwin is always grateful. For a place to stay- for food and to be able to do things. He can watch TV and practice his arts when he’s finished his chores and some days Edwin is strong enough to make eye contact- but otherwise when Edwin is clicked into his human side he’s too scared to.

He moves towards the kitchen, taking off his suit jacket and placing it on the chair and loosened his tie and undid his cuffs.

It was routine that he should do that and move away and minutes later Edwin would take them to be washed.

To get rid of the blood or the sweat and grime.

Today it was just the latter. He stepped into his room and flicked on the light. Hedwig hooted from her fake tree that took up the whole corner. He gets changed into a clean black tank top and black pants. He didn’t bother with shoes. He didn’t plan on going out again.

No. Seeing Reinhard- had hit him hard.

Not only that but the look hadn’t been one of recognition but the promise of cold death. He was a threat to Voldemort in this time too.

He supposes the slight changes to his face he’d applied had not been spotted by Reinhard- however Albus had seen through the glamour.

He had to help Albus do that- had to teach him to help defeat Grindelwald.

So he’s not half surprised. But he gets rid of the glamour and looks at his sharp features.

He looks very different from the first run. How he’s started to refer to his first life.

He was taller, leaner and more muscular. But that also depended on certain factors in this life. Like he’d been healthy when he’d someone had dropped him off at the train station. He’d left shortly after of course and been kidnapped a bit from there. He had no need to go through Hogwarts for the third time anyway so he didn’t really mind. It only added one more to his already red hands.

Instead he’d been investing in his Houses. The Ancient Noble House of Potter and the Ancient Noble House of Peverell. There was also another house called Sapphirus by right of conquest but he didn’t worry too much about that one.

Though the three rings were beautiful he had more precious things to work on too. Including his network of the Underground. Both muggle and magical so he was essentially a powerful figure in both Undergrounds.

After all, nobody questions a Dragon Animagus.

He goes downstairs and finds Edwin looking at him a bit guiltily.

Edwin always hates asking for his blood. He pulls out a potion in the cupboard and drinks it. It exponentially increases blood cell production. He tilts his neck and Edwin comes over.

He’s only three years older than him currently- and three years since his turning.

Hadrian doesn’t wince as the fangs sink into his neck and he picks up the Daily Prophet from nearby and reads over it.

The Tri-Wizard Tournament: The Four Champions

Fuck it wasn’t happening again was it? He reads down and observes his name.

That’s right wizards and witches! Not three- but four champions! And who else but our elusive Hadrian James Potter? Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory were chosen for the Tri-Wizard Tournament by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Then the Goblet of Fire tossed out another name. None other than the Boy-Who-Lived!

Who is keeping the Boy-Who-Lived a secret from the wizarding world? The Ministry has employed Aurors on the case as the Goblet of Fire does not choose names of dead Wizards which means ladies and gents- Hadrian is still alive! It seems the Potter line has not ended just yet!

He doesn’t bother reading the rest. He has Aurors on his tail again. They’d been on his tail by his Alias- Hades.

He doubted they’d put two and two together. After all Hadrian James Potter was supposedly just a fourteen year old boy. How on earth would he be one of the Ministry’s most wanted?

Edwin let’s go and he looks at the bite mark.

Edwin used to be very sloppy but now he’d learnt how to stop drawing the blood up and extract only the left overs- leaving only two small wounds that would heal.

“Thank you My Lord,” Edwin murmurs. Edwin wasn’t thin by any means and was certainly not ill looking- but that’s what half dragon blood did he supposes. “My Lord if I may…” He trials off, waiting and he murmurs, fixing his shirt.

“Continue.”

“I have a friend that’s in desperate need of refuge here.”

“A friend?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. Edwin hardly went out if he didn’t have to. Edwin looked away- blood still on his lips and teeth.

“Yes- his name is Dray.”

“When did you meet?”

“Before I was turned. He was a good friend of mine back then and tried to protect me from getting turned.”

“Very well. Drink some water first.” Edwin dips his head and pours himself a glass- and sets one aside for him with just a bit of juice in it.

He sculls it quickly before putting it in the sink and grabs his folder he kept in the safe and a pen. He sets it down on the table and looks through his private notes and analysis’s.

While he’s working- roughly an hour later there’s a knock on the door and Edwin looks at him and gets a sharp nod before he opens it.

His suspicions were confirmed as the black haired vampire entered. The hazel eyes didn’t fool him for a second- or the worn clothes.

Dracula.

He could tell simply by the size of his fangs.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay,” Dracula says with a warm smile.

“As long as I find no blood on the floor I don’t mind, I’m sure Edwin will tell you the rules. Please take him to the guest suite. Oh- and expect the ministry during the week.” Edwin worried his lip before nodding and Dracula sent him a suspicious look when he thought he wasn’t paying attention and he looked the vampire dead in the eyes- and flashed his dragon eyes, telling the man to make sure he followed the fucking rules.

The vampire frowned- just a little bit, before following Edwin up the stairs. His slitted eyes watched him go before he returned to normal and finished his work. Then he walked up to the third floor where all of his artworks were.

The easels and the carvings, the sculptures. Hedwig flew up to sit on her perch in this room as he picked up an easel and a paintbrush- and he painted Hedwig. If he ever got an art block- he drew Hedwig or any other animals that passed by the place. A few snakes visited sometimes- to speak to him or chilled during the winter months.

He painted her sitting on a branch of the whomping willow, Hogwarts in the background and a black dog by her feet.

From what he’d discovered- Peter Pettigrew had never been a marauder which meant that he wasn’t the cause of his parents death and Sirius Black had never gone to Azkaban.

But there was a wall of newspapers and articles on the wall behind him.

A few hours later, Edwin knocks on the door. “My Lord dinner’s prepared.”

“I’ll be out in a moment.” Edwin disappears and he places down the paintbrush and stands, offering a hand and Hedwig flew over.

Walking down to the kitchen Edwin and Dracula had sat down already but hadn’t touched the food. He sat at the head of the table and Hedwig brought him the mail, dropping it in front of him.

He picks it up and gazes at it for a moment, eating the simple mash, peas, gravy and sausages.

“Sir…” Edwin asks, eyeing the title. “Is that what the Ministry will be coming here for?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t seem surprised,” Dracula says, watching him while eating the significantly smaller portion. Edwin cuts him a warning look- less shy with him around.

He passes it off and ignores Dracula altogether.

He lets Hedwig finish his sausage and then hears a knock on the door.

“Go to the guest rooms,” he orders them and stands. Edwin nods and Dracula surveys him before following. He walks to the front door and shakes his hand before reaching to open the door.

Dressed in fine robes- Cornelius Fudge looks down at him with a shocked expression he masks quickly. To his right stood John Dawlish- effectively Fudge’s bodyguard. To his left was Kingsley Shacklebolt.

He rose a brow and asks, “You are?”

“Ah, I’m Cornelius Fudge. We’re apart of the… Ministry. We’ve come to find someone called Hadrian James Potter.” Ah, so they’ve tracked him down. It has been a few days since the official statement was released.

“That would be me,” he says. Stepping aside he jerks his head inside, “Come inside, your drawing attention.” The wizards looked behind them to see the muggles watching uncertainly. They stepped inside quickly and while Cornelius focused on him the other twos eyes scoured the room.

Then they noticed the three dishes in the sink.

“If I may, who lives here?” John asks calmly, his blue eyes suspicious.

“Some of my older friends. They’re up in the guest room sleeping so if you don’t mind don’t be too loud.” He sits at the head of the table and the other men sit down though Dawlish remained standing.

“Hadrian are you aware of magic?” Cornelius asks softly and he blinks. That was how he was going to put it?

“I’ve been prone to in-explainable accidents, but aside from that no.” Suspiciously he surveys them. “You’re not kidnappers are you?” Cornelius chokes and Dawlish smiles a bit- even Shacklebolt looks slightly amused.

“No- no none of the sort. See we’re wizards-”

“Mentally ill then?” Hadrian tries again, enjoying toying with him and Cornelius gapes. “If a- what, fifty year old man, believes he’s got magic then he must be mentally ill. Wouldn’t you say so Edwin?”

From the top of the stairs, the vampire muses, “Yes, they must be.”

He cocks his head at Cornelius, whose shocked expression had been wiped as he stared at the vampire at the top of the stairs. His smile turns a bit cold,

“Yes I’m aware of magic minister, you would have noticed had you seen the Daily Prophet on the table.” Surprised, Cornelius scanned the table to see the Daily Prophet- open on no doubt what they were here to talk about.

Cornelius inhales sharply and returns to look at him and then Dawlish.

“You didn’t tell me I was making a fool of myself?” Before Dawlish could say anything Hadrian interrupts,

“A real man does not blame another. Certainly it would have been kinder for him to tell you but if you come into a strangers house unprepared- you must at least be observant. Isn’t that right? Minister?” Cornelius straightened his tie a bit and then clears his throat,

“Well then I’m sure you’re aware of what we’re here for then?”

“I’d like it to be explained how my signature was placed in the Goblet,” he says rather sharply instead. Cornelius blinks.

“You know how it works already.”

“I’ve read accounts of it and how it works yes.” Slowly Shacklebolt says,

“This is a muggle home.”

“Easier not to get kidnapped this way.” They all stared at him and he passively stared at them all.

“So it was true then?” Dawlish asks.

And for what it was worth- yeah it was true. He’d been kidnapped, but not at the train station. Hell he’d never boarded the train. Someone had dropped him off and he’d fucked off.

Then he’d been kidnapped and the woman who’d done so had found herself drowning and dying from hypothermia in a nearby lake.

“Yes,” he replies simply, crossing his arms and leaning back, crossing a leg over his knee and contemplating them all. “Explanation?”

“There’s an investigation into it but we’re really uncertain how it occurred?”

“I’d check the faculty. After all only they know where I was previously right? Or which school I went to.”

“You assume they stole the signature on your previous assignments or documents?” Fudge asks surprised and he scowls at the man.

“Apologies sir but I find your mind is very bleak and unthoughtful.” Cornelius growls a warning,

“Careful boy, I am the minister.” Hadrians frown deepens, but the rest is blank- his eyes show nothing. He’s a master of the most simplest masks.

“Careful sir- your in my house. Under muggle authorities. I find the police rather like their guns and batons.” Cornelius twitches.

“Your house?” Dawlish asks and Hadrian jerks his head.

“Here I was emancipated… maybe a little bit of illegal bribery but emancipated none the less.” They all stared at him and he gave Cornelius a small smirk. “I’m sure you know all about manipulations.”

“What. Do. You. Want,” Cornelius bites out and his face is wiped blank- as an intimidation factor more than anything else. He leans forward, elbows on the table and looks at Cornelius sharply.

“Someone who can actually communicate. I don’t think I’ll make any deals with you Minister. So I think I’ll listen to your bodyguards. But the foolish are to better remain silent.” Cornelius fumed and he looks at Cornelius under his lashes. “Unless I should start screaming bloody murder? I live very close to the station after all. The patrol routes all go this way every fifteen minutes like clockwork.”

Cornelius just jerked his head in irritation to Shacklebolt and Hadrian listened.

“We have a proposition for you. It will change a bit now that we know you know about magic. But you’d temporarily reside within Hogwarts to participate in the competition. You wouldn’t need to try and win as trying is enough for the Goblet. You could also decide to stay- if you so wished.”

He thinks about it.

He’s more interested in seeing the changes that he’d caused. Would there still be Blacks at the school? Was Regulus still alive? Was Orion? What about Arcturus? Walburga was hopefully wallowing in the grave and the portrait burnt. Was Sirius teaching like he always wanted to or was he an auror? What about Remus? Was he teaching DADA like he always yearned for?

What about Ron, Hermione and Draco. What had happened to those three? Or Neville, Luna and Headmaster Dumbledore. What about Severus- Minerva- all of them.

He was very interested to see how the portraits reacted to him too and more than all of that- he missed Hogwarts.

But it hurt him so much to go back now. Everything was different. She’d been destroyed in the first run and in the second- well… she’d been full of life. From Tom Riddle, Fleamont Potter and Orion Black. His brother in written law.

What had happened to the Lestrange? The Malfoys? The Notts and the Avery’s?

“I can see that you are uncertain,” Shacklebolt says slowly.

“Not quite uncertain,” he responds quietly. “Just thinking.” They allow him to think for a few more moments before he pulls himself out of the past and said at last, “My past. You’d want to know the bare details.”

Cornelius nodded and opened his mouth to speak but he held up a hand, silencing him and turned to Shacklebolt. Who slowly nodded and said, “Yes. For legal reasons. Though your emancipation would not occur in the wizarding world.”

“I think that will have to be negotiated.” He internally smirks at their expression and held up the paper. “I heard there was an age limit this year.” It was a bluff but he hoped it was true- and from their faces it was.

“Emancipation can be negotiated,” Shacklebolt says quickly instead and he nods curtly.

“When would my presence be required?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he murmurs, “I can leave.” They watch him and he watches them. “You may now speak sir.” Cornelius twitched at the irony of Hadrian calling him sir.

“We will be here to collect you tomorrow. Please have your things ready- all necessary tools will be provided by Hogwarts.” He stands up in a flurry and leaves, the other two follow but Dawlish pauses in the doorway as the other step out.

“The vampires?” Hadrian smirks at him.

“Employed bodyguards.” Dawlish nods and steps out and Edwin appears with Dracula.

“My Lord,” Edwin says with a grin in his voice. He doesn’t turn around but looks away. The grin fades- he can tell, by the time Edwin repeats, “My Lord.” He waves a hand.

“I’m fine Edwin. Take Dracula out if you must.” The pair stiffen and Edwin stutters,

“You- you knew?” He looks up at his poor naive vampire. But Dracula answers,

“We’ve met.” Dracula gives him a long knowing look and he looks darkly at Dracula- daring him. But the vampires lip twitches and then curves into a smile as he notices the flick of his eyes. “Mr Black.” Dracula bows and Edwin stares stunned.

“Mr De Ville.” The man merely smirks and the two disappear into the street.

He’s left in an empty house that feels more alien than it ever did.

Chapter Text

Orion Black sat in the Malfoy manor dining hall and watched the other Death Eaters. Bickering back and forth and Abraxas seemed fairly annoyed by his son.

Lucius was pissed off with Barty- which was fair he supposes.

Orions wife had died more than a few years ago due to a sickness and was a bachelor.

He never mentioned to anyone that he’d killed off Walburga- sick of her incessant screeching and manipulations that had once threatened to tear down the family. Now they were stronger for it.

“The Lord will not see anyone!” Barty shouts at Lucius and Orion had grown bored of those chattering animals and held up his hand for silence. They became as silent as stones and he gave Barty a warning look, so the man sat, fuming and looking like he’d stake Lucius through the chest.

“Be that as that may Barty, Reinhard has interesting news.” He looks at his old friend and the man looks at him with a tight nod.

They were all as thick as thieves around here. But it was missing- hah. It. No, his brother was missing.

No, Cygnus wasn’t missing. In fact he was quite probably writhing in the grave at the irony that he was dead and Orion still thriving.

Sirius and Regulus stood silently behind him, learning. Arcturus was still alive and thriving- though had retired to an Estate with his mother and happily given him the position of family head.

He’s certain Sirius would much rather be elsewhere than here but Regulus was rapt in his attention- as he always had been.

The two brothers were vastly different- and he’d be damned if Walburga had tried to seperate his only sons.

But not only that- he killed her because that was exactly what she had tried to do.

And what had Hadrian told him in the past?

‘Orion, blood is more important than marriage.’

‘And that is information for me?’

‘Yes, for you alone.’

He’d figured it out when he’d begun paying attention to Walburga- how she hated Sirius for being sorted into Gryffindor. For being gay and so forth.

Something within him knew that somehow- somehow Hadrian had known about Sirius and Regulus. Like he’d already met them.

‘One will be troublesome I’m certain. The other will stay true to his heart and beliefs. Even if it makes him a traitor.’

He’d pondered those words. Sirius was the troublesome one most certainly- but Regulus? A traitor? He’d given the boy veritaserum and the boy hadn’t lied about not being a traitor. Though when asked if he’d betray their cause for their family if he believed it was right- well Regulus would have done that.

Though his son had been hurt by that he worried not about it.

“Yes. I was at… the grave a few nights ago,” Reinhard pauses for a second- to figure out how to say it. They’d never spoken about it. Not here.

Even the others didn’t know how Hadrian had died.

It seemed cruel to him to not tell them- share his stories. But it had pained them too much.

“Albus Dumbledore was there.” Orion personally felt neutral to the man. For his cause- how he’d changed it and his approach a while back. He didn’t directly go against them either… for now. “And we talked and he caught gaze of something so I looked across the road.” Reinhard got a far-off look. “Are we certain that your brother never had a son?” He blinks in surprise. “He was too young to be his direct son- but a grandson perhaps? Hadrian James Potter lives- and if he didn’t look like a spitting image of him I would say we kill him immediately.”

“How similar are we talking?” Orion asks, crossing a leg and leaning back in the chair. The image of power. Reinhard frowns, brow furrowed.

“Exactly like Hadrian looked in his fourth year. There was no recognition of me- or Dumbledore for that matter. The Ministry sent a search out and I heard they discovered him, to send him to the tournament.” Reinhard pulls out a newspaper from his jacket and throws it to Orion.

He picks it up and surveys the Daily Prophet.

“Released today,” Reinhard says, as if it explained it.

But there was a hooded figure being escorted by Kingsley Shacklebolt and John Dawlish. A green eye side eyed the photographer and then was escorted away- through the ministry.

“So the boy lived after all,” he muses and then throws the paper back. “He’s a threat to the Lord. Even if he is of Black blood he falls under my jurisdiction- and I was never alerted to a Hadrian James Black. Evans and Potter. Why on earth should he be related to the Hadrian we know? Sirius- you’re the boys Godfather,” he could almost feel the boys relief from here.

“No. James Potter and Lily Evans are without a doubt-” Thaddeus Nott spins from his seat to Orions left.

“Lily- Lily Evans?” Orion wonders at it. It’s all intricately weaved together, somehow and Hadrian was at the centre.

“Yes Lord Nott, Lily Evans. They are without doubt Hadrian Potters birth parents. However he was born with his fathers hair- his hair did darken to black. Though they kept his mothers eyes.”

Yes, that green… He vaguely remembers Lily from when Sirius brought James, her and what was the other boys name… Ah yes, Sirius’s boyfriend, Remus.

“Is Mr Lupin not a teacher at Hogwarts?” Orion asks, turning to face his son who nodded curtly.

“Yes. He teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Ironic, truly. But to defend against them you had to know them to begin with so the position was truly in the grey arts. “I can ask him to send information about Hadrian to you.” He nods.

“We have Severus,” Reinhard reminds him. He rolls his eyes at the reminder of the greasy git.

“My brother hinted at not trusting bats. I believe Severus is very much a bat no? And whose to say he isn’t a double spy?” Orion muses. Thaddeus nods.

“I too believe Severus to be… two faced.”

“So we limit his information,” Reinhard replies easily. Abraxas shakes his head- blonde hair tied up and grey eyes glinting.

“No. The boy is more loyal to us than Dumbledore. He knows Dumbledore doesn’t trust him- as much as Hadrian helped us- he also helped Albus.” Orion nods, knowing truly well the respect that Hadrian had for the man.

Hadrian… he looks down a hallway where the portrait was silent- as it always had been. It gazed at them occasionally, disappeared but it never spoke. Only listened.

He wonders why it never spoke and it had deeply grieved them to discover so. Tom had killed the painter and honestly- he would have loved to have a hand in it.

If only he could talk to his brother once more…

He looks back at the group lazily dragging a finger across the arm rest.

“If I may,” Lucius speaks slowly, aware his position is a lot lesser than the Triarii. Avery had not said a word and silently surveys Lucius in something akin to disgust.

“You may,” Thaddeus says, interested in hearing the boy out.

“Severus has been a helpful ally to our cause- however I believe his loyalty is only to himself. If we extort his desires than we should better control him.” Orion frowned at the words but Abraxas and Reinhard looked at each other- though Lucius had taken note of his frown.

“Barty, your opinion?” Avery asks, his voice sliding through the group and prompting Barty to reply instantaneously.

“I believe Lucius’s words have some merit.” Though the man looked like a soggy rat half the time his words sometimes displayed it’s little bits of gold. “Snape has always been a selfish bastard- however I think we should place more faith in Mr Blacks brothers words. As I have been told the man knew what he was doing and what his words meant.”

“I think I like you more and more Barty,” Avery says, nodding curtly. The Triarii looked to Orion for the final decision.

He was after all- the second head of the organisation. He would have been more than grateful if he was the third- if his brother took up Leader with Tom as his equal.

He knows exactly why Tom is hiding. His appearance is sickly after having his soul essentially broken apart. Only the spell and his soul being bound to them kept him alive.

“I’m sure the Lord is listening in, your opinion?” They wait in the silence before there’s a low hissing. Now none of them can speak parseltongue- but they’d gotten very good at translating the tone. So when Tom talked to them he spoke to them in tones- not words. Usually through Nagini- who was sliding across the floor and up around Reinhard’s chair.

“The Lord is in agreement to my statement,” Orion says and Reinhard shook his head.

Yes, the Lord may be quite biased towards Hadrian but it was collectively known that Hadrian- for what it was worth- had been a seer of sorts.

‘I will make sure I leave Hogwarts better than I found her.’

He’s certain there was a deeper meaning to that- because Hadrian had declared that in his first year, before there had been any problems. Before there had been a war. But Hadrian had known it was coming and he’d been calm in the face of the trouble with Grindelwald.

“We limit the mans information- but feed him the truth sometimes to make him certain he’s not being played for a fool. Until then, the plans to kill Cornelius will continue. Lucius I assume your place within the Ministry is secure.” The silver eel dipped his head.

“Yes Lord Black.”

“Good.” He stood and the table followed his lead. “Meeting dismissed.” They filled out and he stepped down the hallway to his brothers portrait.

He stops in front of the gold thing. A black veil hung over it- obscuring him from view. He pulls the veil aside and very alive green eyes watching him. Cold but calm the man sat in the astronomy tower- back to the stars and the moon reflecting on the lake and the shadows of the forest. There was a patronus flickering through the painting and then disappeared.

“Brother,” he tells the portrait. He’s probably said it a thousand times but he whispers it again, “We miss you.” He runs a hand over the edge of the portrait and watching his brothers eyes follow his hand and then focus on his face again. His black hair fell over his face a bit today. He had an earring in his left earlobe. A gift from a certain someone. It hung a bit, the emerald on a silver threaded chain. On the same ear around the top of his ear sat a serpent like adornment.

But in his grip was the blood pact.

He’d never seen the painting let it go- or move it. It was firmly in his right hand all the time. How the painter had known that Hadrian never let it go was beyond his guess. Or maybe he’d spoken to the painter himself.

It was a shame Fleamont was on a holiday. While he was Hadrians grandfather- the man seemed to have little interest in him. Or maybe believed him dead. Their family blood was probably mettled a bit- from James’s death.

But Hadrian gazes at him differently this time- which was new in itself. The painting was looking intensely at Orion, his gaze narrowed before he lifted his hand, the blood vial hanging in his hand.

Orions breath caught and wordlessly contacted Nagini and the snake appeared, sliding quickly up his body to watch.

The blood vial began floating and Hadrian moved, turning sideways so that the blood vial pointed-

To a dragon patronus flying to the moon.

Hadrians green eyes turned to look at the serpent wrapped around his shoulders and Hadrian lifted his chin, eyes becoming slits- like his dragon Ekkathion.

The serpent raised its head-

Do not speak of this, came his Lords voice. Nagini looked at him and Orion looked to the portrait who had calmly returned to his previous position, his eyes distant.

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

Hadrian had been ready for many things when he was due to arrive at Hogwarts. He had packed his trunks, Hedwig was on his shoulder and Ministry had collected him at 1pm sharp.

Now he stood in the Headmasters office, looking around at the organised things. Fawkes was still there- of course. Sat on a fancy perch not the old stick he remembered. The books are ordered, the pensieve is where he remembers it to be and the artefacts are all set carefully on shelves, ordered and warded. The Headmasters are silent as they stared down at him.

He saw one Armando Dippet looking particularly thoughtful but he’d never given a penny for that mans thoughts. In fact he couldn’t care at all.

“A sherbet lemon Mr Potter?” Albus asks and he looks at the candies and decided just for the sake of it- to politely agree.

“It would be appreciated.” Albus motions to the bowl and he steps forward towards the chair and the bowl. Taking one and popping the calming drought candy into his mouth. It was smart- even in the past. It helped keep students calm when talking to someone they may be intimidated by.

John Dawlish and Shacklebolt stood behind him.

“All is well men, I shall take it from here,” Albus tells them and Hedwig flies to Fawkes- who shares his perch. The two men disappeared and Albus looked at him- blue eyes sparkling rather than having their signature twinkle.

He preferred it- this Dumbledore. This self-confident, powerful Dumbledore. He’ll live this time. He’ll ensure it.

“Hadrian Potter. I’ve been alerted you were kidnapped from Kings Cross Station when you were eleven, is this correct?” He nods curtly and Dumbledore flicks his hand and a feather begins writing. “The kidnapper was?”

“An English woman who claimed she knew how to get me to Hogwarts,” he replies, sucking on the candy.

Admittedly he was hiding from Dumbledore- but… he was hiding from everybody really. He leans back in his seat and sighs.

As long as he’s in his small body he can’t really do much but- fuck he wanted to see Tom. He remembers sitting in this seat-

“How did you get away if I may ask?” Hadrian dips his head,

“You may. It was simple accidental magic- but it was too late and I was stuck in London and I had missed the train. So I simply took myself to the police station and I was given a nanny in a building not too far away from the police station. She disappeared a few days later and I never saw her again. The legal system meant that the police never found out. I got emancipated a year later.” Albus nods, writing something on a piece of paper.

“You could join Hogwarts a few years late,” Albus suggests, writing with a green quill. It didn’t go unnoticed by Hadrian that it was the same quill Albus used whenever he used to be in his office. He pretends not to notice.

“And get sorted?” He asks softly and Albus nods. He thinks about. He doesn’t necessarily have anything to lose. “I think, since I’ve been legally emancipated that I’ll only stay until the other schools leave. I shall make a decision then, whether I wish to stay if that’s alright with you sir.”

“Of course, I can make it work,” Dumbledore says gently, setting the quill down. “Shall we get you sorted now?”

“Yes sir.” Dumbledore grabs Alistair who comes to life and gently sets him on his head. He can feel Alistair in an instant and there was a sigh of relief.

Mr Black.

Alistair, he says with a fond smile.

I didn’t know if you’d return to us or not- after the events became so different. Hadrian smiles a bit.

I know precisely what you mean. Now if we may Alistair?

Of course, Gryffindor or Slytherin Hadrian.

Unfortunately I think it may be best I pick Gryffindor.

Your reasonings on that Hadrian?

I believe it’ll draw too much suspicion- create too much of a connection between me and Black.

Is there really any difference, Alistair asks quietly.

And out of every refute he’d thought of- that had not been one he thought the hat would use against him.

The sigh that escapes him is not happy in the slightest and he glares at his knee, arms on the armrests.

Sometimes I think you having a mind of your own isn’t a good thing. The hat chuckled.

“Slytherin,” the hat announces and he opens his eyes to Albus who merely takes the hat without a word.

“The Slytherin house will be your home for the remainder of your time at Hogwarts,” Albus sits down again, “however long that may be.”

But there was a knowing in Albus’s eyes that disturbed him. If Albus knew why wouldn’t he tell him? Or reveal he knew?

Regardless he remained seated and Albus said, “I’ll have to test you for how much you know, if that’s alright.” He remembered what he’d learnt in fourth year- but he had to show an aptitude for magic.

Albus had no doubt learnt that he’d stayed with vampires.

“Of course.” He pulls out his rowan and pine wand and Albus surveys the foreign wand with interest before running through some spells and charms of the sort. Of course he showed an aptitude in the Defence Against the Dark Arts- and refused to do some but not without giving it a try. “Alright, you’re a bit higher than other students but you’ll still fit right in.” He nods and Albus organises some paperwork and then flicks his wand and someone appears.

He already knows who it is before he turns around, but Severus stands beside him, staring down at him.

“Hadrian this is Severus Snape, the Slytherin Head of House, he will lead you to your rooms and then take you to Diagon Alley.”

Hadrian stands and offers a hand, “Pleasure to meet you Professor.” Severus merely shakes his hand and bows his head slowly,

“And you Mr Potter.” More respect than before and he turns to Albus who nods.

“You may go Mr Potter but if there’s any issues please come up to me. The password is Griffin.” He bows.

“Thank you Headmaster.” Hedwig rubs his head as they follow Severus down the staircase and into the hallways. They’re familiar and he finds himself relaxing even subconsciously.

He’s home. For what it’s worth.

He focuses on Severus’s back and finds himself smiling. The man has changed so much. For the better, so far.

They go into the dungeons and he asks quietly, “Why are the Slytherins in the Dungeons?” Severus glances over his shoulder and says,

“It’s where the Founder placed the Common Rooms. It’s directly under the lake.” They reach a portrait. “Hatchling.” It swings open and he steps inside to find the Slytherin Common Room hasn’t changed at all-

Including the two thrones on a dias. One has a crown on it- the other is completely empty. The Slytherin King and Queen. But while Tom and him had been there- there’d been two Kings.

There were velvet green couches and silk curtains that showed the lakes glowing waters beyond.

There was a chandelier and the fire was roaring in a black mantle.

There were kids that stared at him, openly gawking and he spotted Draco immediately.

It feels like he hasn’t seen the boy in years- but his hair is longer, shoulder length and tied back, like his own and the grey-blue eyes seemed quiet, watching his every move. Zabini sat close with Theodore Nott. Crabbe and Goyle had changed the most. They were muscular now, not the blobs of meat he remembers. To be fair Goyle had never been bad per say. But Crabbe- well he has nothing to say for him.

“Listen up!” Snape orders and everyone pays attention to him. So Slytherin hadn’t changed that much then. “Everyone this is Hadrian Potter,” eyes surveyed him with newfound interest for some- but Malfoy looked as if he’d already known that. “He’s our champion so I expect you all to treat him well, I will not have any fool disgracing our house.” Snape looks over his shoulder, surveys Hadrian and says, “That means you too Potter.” He just smirks.

Fool. If Snape had any idea who he was dealing with he’d be kneeling at his feet.

“Of course sir,” he says. Severus gives him a long look before returning to the group.

“Teach him the ways of Slytherin, I have a feeling you’ll fit right in,” Severus says, whisking from the room and as soon as the portrait closed, Hedwig hooted at the man, annoyed.

“Shh,” he hushes, stroking her chest. The bird glowers but he turns to the Slytherins and Draco stands and offers a hand,

“Draco Malfoy.” He shakes the hand.

“Clearly I’m Hadrian.” Draco nods and motions to his group, pointing out each individually,

“Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. That’s Pansy Parkinson and-” he laid eyes on a boy who looked very very familiar to the Black family, “Hayes Black.” The boy looked very similar to Regulus Black- from the memories he had of him. Surprisingly he’d never actually met Regulus in person.

However the irony of the name wasn’t lost on him but he pretends again, not to notice. He has a feeling he’ll be doing a lot of that.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” he replies with a flattering smile.

“If I may,” Daphne asks, flicking blonde hair over her shoulder, “where were you all these years?”

“The muggle world,” he replies, placing his hands in the pockets of his trousers. There were outraged cries around him.

“The muggle world-”

“How did you- get there?” Draco asks.

“Kidnapped by a witch.” The group stared and he shrugs, smirking under his lashes at Draco. “She went for a nice long swim afterwards.” Draco stared at the implication and then smiled.

“At least you’re not a goody two shoes.” Hadrian rolled his eyes,

“You think I’d be here if I was?”

“So you know about Slytherin?” Hayes asks, his voice sounded very similar to Orions and he looks at his descendant of some kind and smirks even more.

“More than you think I do. Where will I be staying?”

“There’s a free room but…” Draco scratches his chin and winces. “Have you heard of Hadrian Black?”

He cocks his head. “The Headmaster mentioned him.” Draco sighs.

“He’s kind of like the King of Slytherin.” Draco nods to the crown. “The other crown went with the previous King but that crowns been left untouched since 1960.”

“Blacks Crown,” Hadrian says slowly and Draco nods.

“When he died it was returned.”

“So the other person with the crown is still alive?” He asks quietly and Draco stiffens, realising his mistake. Hadrian watches Draco carefully and the man nods slowly and makes up a lie quickly, “Thaddeus Nott.” He looks at Theodore for a reaction but the boy gives nothing away through his dark eyes. Just like his father.

He looks back at the crown.

“So Blacks like sacred to Slytherin?” Draco just nods. How the fuck had that happened? He gives nothing away but murmurs, “Interesting.”

“The room is Blacks also.”

“Is it the only room left?” He asks and Draco winces.

“The other is the Dark Lords.” Did Draco not like the Dark Lord this time round too? Did that mean Tom hadn’t changed at all? “Are you alright?” Draco asks and he’d clearly given something away.

“Fine,” he replies nonchalantly, looking away from Draco who watches him carefully. “Just tell me whose you’d prefer me to go into.” The boy looks very conflicted for a moment.

“You don’t mind the Dark Lords room.”

“No,” Hadrian replies, slightly bored and Hedwig hooted. “But I appreciate the thought.” That was true and Draco nods and begins leading him down a corridor to the side and goes up a few sets of stairs before stopping on a level and motioned to the bedroom at the far end.

“That’ll be your room then.” He nods his thanks and Draco turns and descends the stairs and Hadrian watches him go.

That kid has changed so much. Then again he’d changed Abraxas so he’s not surprised if Lucius was brought up differently and in doing so brought up Draco.

But Hayes Black? Seriously Orion how could you let Regulus do that, Hadrian thought exasperated, moving towards the door and opening it.

The walls were green, he notices but the archways- the door and the window rims were all black. There was a large atrium- as there had been before. There were paintings- not by his hand, clearly. But rather Hadrians.

He ignores them for now and keeps walking to find it spread out a bit more into three other rooms. Directly opposite was two large black doors where there was the bed and the bathroom and closet. In another was a piano placed in a circular room with tall roofs and brilliant acoustics. There was windows surrounded by crystal clear water and he Hedwig flies to a branch as he sits down at the piano and plays Experience by Ludovica Einaudi.

It just fit, the song. With everything Hadrian has been through it allowed him to collect his thoughts- with the sound of water quietly in the background, he plays as the lakes reflection shines over him as the sun moves through.

The instruments lining the wall are picked up by his magic and he begins playing the guitar and the cello.

He leans into the music.

He used to play for Tom- Tom used to play with him. Eventually he’d gotten the whole group to play an instrument. Aiden was on the Cello, Hadrian was on the violin, Reinhard was on the Guitar and Abraxas sometimes played the tambourine otherwise Reinhard would use his magic for that. Theodore would usually watch and Tom played the Piano. Sometimes he played the Violin too.

Hadrian sighs as he plays, reminiscing.

Tom and him used to play pieces that only required the Piano and Cello or Violin. They always swapped, whenever one of them wanted to play the other.

It was usually done in silence- they had never been loud.

But when he’d first seen Tom- back in his first year he’d understood how he’d become the Voldemort he’d used to know.

Now though- Now he was trying to figure out if he’d still turned into the Voldemort he’d known.

He’d attacked the Ministry- but hadn’t created the Death Eaters but rather kept the Knights of Walpurgis. He had Voldemorts Triarii but their identities were hidden and despite all that- as Hades he’d managed to become more wanted than Voldemort for the Ministry.

Maybe it’s because they thought Tom was dead.

Hadrian misses them all, misses that they’ll never be able to be exactly what they were and hates that too.

So he plays and pours his grief into the song- memory guiding him. He hadn’t played in three years- he’d vowed, after he’d died and returned, he’d only ever play again here. Right here.

So Hadrian played and he played, drowning out the silence and he thought. He thought of all the memories he’d shared with them. With the Triarii. With his Brothers.

He was swept into the song like how the sunset enraptures you until it’s gone.

He wanted to keep playing and he was afraid of the silence he knew would come when the song was over so he kept playing, the music becoming more and more intense. He took a deep breath and the familiar smell of Tom swept over him- of the group. It was old and stale and not nearly as intoxicating as Toms really scent was.

But he can’t help it.

As a dragon animagus he felt the need to return to them and return swiftly. But he couldn’t and it was slowly driving him up the walls, so of course this helped. Of course being in this room helped.

He’d been glad, whatever motives Draco had, that’s he’d given him this room.

The rest were mediocre anyways. He’d renovated this room with Tom during a summer when he hadn’t gone home and stayed with him instead.

He finishes the song and lets it fade away and stares at the table for a while.

Hedwig flew over and dropped onto the black surface, hooting softly.

“Hey darling,” he strokes her feathers and she hops onto his hand and he leaves the room, moving to the office.

Everything was left as they’d wanted it to be left. With the books neatly placed away, with one book on the table and the room illuminated by the light of the ocean. It covered everything, giving it an eery feel but it was dry and warm inside the room. Wordlessly he lit the fire that snatched the light of the ocean and allowed it’s glow to cover some of the floor. He runs a hand over the back of the chair and eventually lets go.

He can’t remember any events before being eleven- as he’d been shoved into his body when he had been at the Train Station. So it was little wonder he’d been able to slip away so easily.

Then he steps in front of the bedroom and feels nervous.

Why?

Because half of him wants Tom to be in there and half of him knows that if Tom is in there- then he’s fucked. Because it would be Voldemort not Tom.

He pushes open the door and there’s the bed.

Unmade as they’d left it, the black duvet tossed and the green silk top blanket half on the floor and the silk pillows where they should be.

The curtains were partially closed and-

He sniffs the air.

Someone had been in here. Not recently, but certainly after his death.

Tom.

Hedwig flies to another branch and he takes off his shoes and flops onto the bed- smelling roses, shaving cream and books. He breathes the scent in like it’s a fucking life line because it is. It is and it has to be.

He buries his face into his pillow, breathing it and his body slowly relaxes and he drags a tongue over his fangs and squints as everything became so much brighter. He glances at his arms and sees the scales but he doesn’t really care.

Fuck-

He’d never missed someone who was alive so fucking badly. Not mention he used to be his enemy- is his enemy!

If Tom was still in there- still partly in Voldemort then fuck Hadrian was going to burn down the world to get him back.

But he has to have his magic to be able to do that.

He shifts on the bed, allowing his body to reform but quickly shrinking it with a thought so he fit on the bed. He rearranges his body until he’s curled on the bed comfortably, duvet over him.

Chapter Text

Hadrian woke up slowly to Hedwig chirping- half naked and sighed, not wanting to leave. He rolls over into his pillow again and took another breath. Because he had to-

Someone knocks on his door, “Potter it’s time to get up. I won’t be doing this again.” Severus. Maybe not much had changed then- actually Severus probably would have doused him in cold water so much better.

He calls out, “I’ll be out in a minute.” He rolls over again and spots Hedwig before he finally slid out of bed with a deep sigh.

His Hogwarts robes were accio’d and he changed swiftly. Draco was waiting for him outside and gives him a smile.

“Feeling better?”

“Did I look terrible?” He asks in surprise and Draco only gives him a smirk.

“Just a bit.” Shaking his head, he runs a hand through his black hair and then over his face before straightening his robes. They walk through the common room and receive more than a few stares. It’s probably because Draco and Hadrian were two sides of the same coin.

One with pale skin, white hair and pale blue-grey eyes and Hadrian with his black hair, green eyes and slightly tanned skin.

Their gaits however were the same, their manner of looking around almost the same.

After all he’d learnt most of the pureblood etiquette and habits from Draco so it’s hardly surprising that they’d sync up, even unconsciously.

Blaise, Theo and the other link up behind them as they walk to the Great Hall that was alive. Gods it was so alive with people that were dead. He looks into eyes of people he’d watched die at his feet and moved to the Slytherin table, not without casting a glance but found no Hermione Granger and one very different looking Weasley who craned his head to look for him.

He was tall and lanky but he’d groomed his hair back, carried himself with a bit more purpose.

“That’s the Heir of the Weasley family,” Draco says, looking a bit irritated but not outright calling them Blood Traitors.

How much had the rejection of Harry Potter affected Draco in the first run?

“Heir? Last time I checked the Weasley family had elder siblings,” he muses, sitting at the table and Zabini sat on Draco’s right, Hadrian on his left and Theodore on Hadrians left while the girls and Crabbe and Goyle sat opposite them.

Draco bows his head, “He does. However the family saw Percy Weasleys obsession with the Ministry as him saying that was priority to him above all else so they essentially disinherited him. Bill and Charlie Weasley had no interest in the position and the Twins are already keyed in to be the Lords of the Prewett Family, as they’re twins. Which means Ronald is the Heir to the Weasley Family Fortune.”

“How did they make this fortune?” He asks Draco, instead of showing his surprise that they had any at all.

“They regained their titles in the first place, instead of being Blood Traitors. Their wealth was all there and Lord Weasley was very meticulous in how he spent it. They didn’t move out of their old house until they had invested enough to keep their fortune no matter what.” Draco glances at him as he waits for everyone else to start eating. “You seem awfully interested in Politics.”

“Politics,” Hadrian muses, a smile twisting onto his lips before he could help it. “No, not quite politics.”

“Allies then?” Draco pushes and Hadrian glances at him, knowing exactly what he meant but found it within his best interest not to answer. Then Breakfast appeared and they began eating. Then he notices Hayes wasn’t there.

“Where’s Hayes?”

“His uncle came to visit,” Theodore speaks up after Draco also notices. “He’ll probably be in the DADA classroom.” Huh. Sirius was here? Was it Sirius? Yeah, if he was Regulus’s son.

He continues eating and then eventually Draco leads him off to Potions first.

Fuck.

They walk into the Dungeons again and into Snapes dingy old classroom- although he noticed vents for ventilation and felt relieved. He always felt queasy after being in here- likely from the fumes.

Draco nods to his desk and he sets up his cauldron beside his and he knew what they’d be doing. The Draught of Living Death. They shared with Gryffindors and he notices Ron again. But where was Hermione? Unless… was she in Ravenclaw this time round?

Snape swept past him, casting an eye over before writing instructions on the board.

“We will be brewing the Draught of Living Death today, write down these notes and then brew. You have an hour and a half.” He swiftly pulled out a book and quill and began writing down the instructions- mostly from memory before he got started, roundabout the same time Draco did.

It’s not necessarily a hard potion- when you’d brewed it so many times.

By the end he’d succeeded and pretended to wait- not quite knowing what to do. The facade worked because Snape jerks his head,

“Bottle it up and bring it to me Potter.” He does so and Draco does the same before they both go up. Snape surveys Draco’s bottle first. “Adequate.” Draco nods and waits for him as Snape stares at his. Then his eyes widened but he flicked his hand, “Acceptable.”

Draco blinks and looks at him closely, as if also knowing that was high praise. They grab their stuff and leave and Draco murmurs, “That was high praise from him. Have you brewed before.”

“Enough,” he replies, “It helped earn some money.” Which was partially true. But he scrunches up his nose. “High praise really?” Draco laughs.

“Yeah, he’s a greasy old git, but he’s our Head of House and our Potions Master. That’s about as far as his praises go.”

“How’d you go in terms of the bat then?” Draco stares before snorting with laughter as they walk to Study of Ancient Runes.

“Moderately well. You did better.” He gapes at Draco- unable to hide it.

He was so fucking different it was astonishing.

Then again he hadn’t been a skinny little twat when he’d regained his consciousness either. So he probably hadn’t been with Petunia and Vernon. Which meant lots of things had changed.

Draco just smiles at him and keeps walking and his heart leaps in his chest.

First of all- he hadn’t like Draco during his first trip in Hogwarts because he’d been such a prejudiced kid. But later he’d realised Draco had actually wanted to be his friend and simply hadn’t known better. But this- this.

Fuck. He sighs softly, following Draco.

Ancient Runes was much easier to understand this time and he can tell Professor Babbling knew what she was ‘babbling’ about.

Hadrian almost snorted at the way he said it in his head.

Draco sent him a funny look but didn’t question him.

They then went to Transfiguration and Minerva was… just like before. A bit more observant than usual but asides from that- she held no bias, was just as fierce a character and thus forth.

But he found it easy and breezed through it- his magic prowess coming into play.

He wasn’t bored per say, playing with magic was never boring. But it was just that, playing.

They took Herbology last and afterwards returned to the common rooms.

“I haven’t seen the other schools from the tournament,” Hadrian remarks as they step through the portrait.

Blaise explained, “They usually stay in the boat or their carriage. I heard it’s like a palace in there. They come out for dinner- simply for appearance sake.”

“I think Diggory has been avoiding you on purpose,” Daphne adds and he cocks his head as they enter the room and he sits on a couch, stretching his legs and glanced at the throne.

“Why?” He returns his gaze to Daphne and her gaze warned him that she’d seen. He merely gave her a reassuring smile. She frowned.

“Because your a Slytherin. Hufflepuffs and Slytherins naturally don’t go very well together.” He raises a brow.

“Really? That’s interesting, I’ll keep that in mind.” Daphne nods, pleased, until he continues with a smirk, “When I talk to them.” She glares.

“You’ll ruin our reputation.” He roll of his eyes.

“I won’t ruin a thing pureblood, keep your wits about you please,” he leans back in the couch, getting comfortable.

But what he’d said had apparently enraged her.

“You say it as if you hate us- yet your one of us,” she says calmly, brushing her clothes with a hand before meeting his eyes coldly. “You shouldn’t make an enemy out of your house.”

“You’ll find I’m quite accustomed to having enemies,” he muses, unfazed, eyes narrowing slightly and enjoyed the twitch in her eyebrow.

He’d always meant to adjust the hierarchy. He’d lived as an outcast for years- if he was going to be an outcast, he’d be at the top.

Right on that throne.

“You are not stronger than us,” Daphne replies stiffly. “Not collectively.”

“Really?” He says, cocking his head and revealing fangs and Daphne gasps, stepping back. “Oh darling you have no idea about anything.” The others were staring and he smiles even more at her. “I won’t lose this tournament because I can’t. I won’t die because I can’t. So I suggest,” he lowers his voice to a saccharine whisper, “You choose very carefully with what you say next.” The temperature in the room plummets and he watches Daphne.

Her pureblood ideals would threaten everything so he wouldn’t let her get so far as to make herself supreme on top of him.

He gets rid of his fangs and Daphne just stiffly says, “I’m sure it would be good to get allies from different houses.” She whisks away moments later and he watches her leave before turning to Draco, who immediately asks,

“Vampire-”

“No. Animagus.” Draco recovered swiftly and sat down opposite him and the others followed. Theodore and Zabini sat next to him on the sofa and the rest sat elsewhere.

“What kind of animagus?” Draco asks eagerly and he smirks.

“That’s a secret. Is anyone else?” Draco offers a smile and then Hayes walks in and the dark haired boy glances around and nods to him before sitting down in a single chair alone.

“We’re talking about who’s an animagus,” Draco says and Hayes jerks his head.

“I am.” His blue eyes watch the room and Hadrian feels he looks much like Regulus.

“So am I,” Theodore says quietly. Yes, he’d made Thaddeus an animagus. He’d been surprised to learn Animagus’s can be born. But it was a real thing.

He allows them to hold their silence and didn’t pester them further- until Draco asks, “Not going to ask?” With a flourish of his hand he asks dramatically,

“And whatever, dear sir, are you?” A few chuckles and Draco blushes a bit in embarrassment. At least that part hadn’t changed.

“A Thestral,” Draco says proudly and he stares.

A fucking Thestral? Draco was a fucking THESTRAL?

Somehow he could picture it.

“Are you sure a hippogriff wouldn’t suit you better?” He asks, crossing a leg over his knee and leaning against the edge of the couch. Draco mocked feigned hurt.

“I’m not that vain-” Pansy interrupts,

“Yes, yes you are.” It was said in the driest manner possible and everyone burst into laughs at Draco’s expression.

“I’m a black puma,” Theodore replies casually.

“What we’re all cool now are we?” He asks, amused. Draco and Theodore share a look and then Draco asks sweetly,

“Are you a beetle dear Hadrian?”

“Yes because a beetle has fangs,” Blaise snorts, right beside him. Draco rolls his eyes.

“What about a house cat?” Theodore teased and then Hayes interrupted,

“Fangs?” So Hadrian showed him and Hayes raised a brow.

“A cat,” Hayes agrees and Hadrian rolls his eyes in disbelief.

“What and you’re the big bad wolf?” The group stares and he stares at Hayes in amusement. “Just like Sirius.” Those eyes narrowed immediately.

“How do you know my Uncle?”

“He’s my Godfather,” Hadrian replies with a raised brow.

“Yeah but Fleamont never let him see you,” Hayes replies sharply.

Fleamont was still alive? And his Grandfather- oh that was kind of gross.

“Yeah well I still remember him showing me,” Hadrian replies with a roll of his eyes, “before everything.” Draco interjects quickly,

“You remember that?” He looks at the fire.

“You’ll find I have a rather vivid memory of that night.” Well at least that hadn’t changed.

No, Voldemort had done it- as he probably always will.

But he’d been given to Fleamont instead huh? Not Sirius? Well, Black was a Voldemort sympathiser family so it was understandable that he wasn’t given to Sirius.

His godfather was here but he’d rather seperate two lives. He just had to decide which one to save.

“Damn that turned dark quickly,” Hayes remarks and he smirks at the boy. He was more like Sirius than he ever would have thought. “Anyways, if you wanted to meet with him he’s still here I think- though there’s no guarantee he’s not snogging our teacher.” Hadrian screwed up his face at the thought.

“I didn’t need that picture.” Hayes laughs.

“Well I’m glad to be of some assistance.” Hadrian shakes his head and casts a tempus with the wave of a hand, ignoring their faces.

“Alright, I’m going to head off to my room, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He turns and doesn’t address their questions, passing Daphne in the hallway. He gives her a look and she watches as he moves to the ‘Dark Lords’ old room.

She inhales sharply as he goes inside.

“Hello Hedwig dear,” he murmurs as he’s greeted by a hoot. He returns to Toms room in silence and gets changed- not bothering with homework before he slides into he bed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He doesn’t need dinner tonight.

Who to pick. Should Hadrian Black die so Hadrian Potter can live- or shall the Boy Who Lived die after all?

There was a feeling of satisfaction that accompanied the latter.

He didn’t feel like that foolish boy anymore. He shouldn’t have to be that foolish boy.

It would be easy- he just had to find the patronus he sent out years ago. It was still out there, he knew that much. It was a self sustaining thing.

He rolls over, staring at the starry ceiling that they’d painted together.

Fuck- why was his thoughts all Tom Tom, Tom?

“Hedwig love, come here,” he whispers and the owl hoots, taking off to land on his chest and made herself comfortable. “What do you think darling?”

She cocks her head and then puffs out her feathers, getting comfortable. She hoots softly.

“I do miss him,” Hadrian tells her earnestly and then sighs. “But who knows. If whatever I did in the past hasn’t changed him- if he’s still the same Voldemort I used to know what’s the point darling?” He strokes her feathers and she closes her eyes and leans into his touch.

Her feathers were soft and fluffy.

He remains on the bed like that in silence for a while.

He had to figure out how he was going to go about this tournament and make it seem as natural as possible. As if he didn’t know what was going to happen.

Closing his eyes, he releases a tired sigh and allows himself to slowly fall into a fucking terrible sleep.

Chapter Text

Orion steps back from the body stiffly, wiping his hands with a cloth. Aiden just silently cleaned up, looking down at the bodies.

Quietly, Aiden says, “Barty is a fool.” Orion looks up at the man through the dark. It was lowlight in the house and most of the porcelain items were shattered.

The idiots hadn’t gone quietly.

“How so,” he asks, wiping the knifes before sheathing them.

“He’s taken up Moriarty’s name.” Orion understands that Nicholas Moriarty should be dead by now- and that Moriarty had a lot of enemies that would foam at the mouth to get a chance to get back at him.

“It was a foolish move, but Barty’s not as stupid as everyone believes,” Orion murmurs, pulling out his wand and murmuring spells underneath his breath that restored the house while Aiden burnt the bodies.

“So he has a motive for doing that?” Orion hums.

“Yes, I think so.” They step outside, locking the house and gaze out at the muggle road. Then they begin walking side by side along the pathway. “I believe he has the same belief as everyone else does and is trying to find out.” Aiden cocks his head and watches him before looking at the people passing by.

“And what could that be?” Orion picks lint off from his sleeve.

“That Potter is linked to my brother and if he is- then he’d know that somehow my brother was entangled with Nicholas and would perhaps seek him out to get a better understanding. Or show obvious signs that Barty is acting and if Hadrian is suspicious of him immediately- then perhaps Potter is my brother in some reincarnated form.” Aiden is silent, probably thinking about the probability of that being true.

“What did Sirius say when he went over?” Orion sighs deeply.

“Hadrian got placed into Slytherin, obviously. He keeps mostly to himself according to Hayes but he’s situated himself with Draco’s friend group.” Aiden raises a brow.

“Fleamont’s grandson, I wonder how well that went down.”

“Rather well actually, I think he’s currently clashing a bit with Draco for leader- so they’ve settled into a balance. But they’ve all acknowledged to some degree- Potter is stronger.” Aiden seems partially off put by that.

“What on earth was that boy doing these past three years?” Orion chuckles.

“That, is what I’m trying to find out.” Orion stops outside a house and Aiden pauses too- turning to the three story building.

Aiden swears. “This is Potters house isn’t it?”

“Since the boy got emancipated- yes, this is his house.”

“How the fuck did that even work anyway?” Aiden mutters. “Muggles are very sensitive about their law systems regarding emancipation.”

“Well if he was strong enough, a glamour could be enough to just appear fourteen years old- then he just has to prove he can manage and make money, his parents don’t care if he moves out and since they’re dead and Fleamont wasn’t around- boom, emancipated.” Aiden gives him a shrewd look.

“You’ve looked into it.” He rolls his eyes, looking at the people passing by. London was rather busy.

“Of course I have. What I’ve also found is this.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out a newspaper and Aiden narrows his eyes, using the lamplight to read. Then his brows shot up.

“Where did you find this?”

“The Underground when I dipped in for a bit. I barely made it out, the Vampires were pissed when I started looking into Hades.”

“Is this the Underground news?” Aiden asks.

“Yeah, managed to snag it- not without a bit of pain. It burnt me at first and then I left the perimeter and the magic settled down.” Aiden hums, the Rune master looking over the paper and the inked outlines around the bottom.

“Out of the range of activation I’d say- or the power source.”

“It was impressive, I had to get Abraxas to heal my hands.” Aiden casts a quick look at his gloves hands and returns to the paper.

“Well isn’t that saying something,” he murmurs lowly and looks back at the house. “Anyone in there?”

“One vampire servant named Edwin. He has a friend that’s been coming over more and more frequently named Dray.” The two Lords looked at each other and Aiden says slowly,

“Draculas been in the kids house? Do you think he knows?”

“The first visit as far as I’ve been informed was the day the ministry came to alert the boy.”

“You think Potters related to Hades?”

“Of course I do,” Orion replies easily. “He knows too much- the Underground is a metaphoric library of information. You can find out anything. The vampire he’s housing might relate to why they’re so particular about people snooping around about him.” Aiden nods slowly, handing the newspaper back and he puts it away. “But… we’ve always suspected my brother of having some affairs with the Underground itself. It could be the kids way- if he’s a descendant, of finding out about his father or grandfather however you wish to put it.”

“I don’t think Black ever had a kid,” Aiden says quietly. “He was too fucking gay for that.” Orion snorts at the irony and Aiden glares. He holds up his hands, not judging.

“He was bisexual, his preference just- why are we even talking about this?” Orion asks with a tired sigh. Aiden snorts again.

They return to the house in quiet silence.

“So Potters our key to finding out if Hadrian meant what he said.”

“Aut viam inveniam aut faciam.” Aiden scuffs the floor with his foot and murmured,

“I will either find a way, or I will make one.” Aiden laughs darkly. “He really fucking liked his Latin didn’t he?” Orion huffs an equally dark laugh.

“It made him stronger for what it’s worth.” Aiden dips his head in acknowledgment.

“True, rudimentary knowledge of latin really should be taught if that’s what fuels our spells in a more simple form- Right let’s fucking take a look.” They walked up to the front door- and knocked.

There was silence for a moment before the door swung open, revealing a blonde haired- red eyed vampire. Orion looked him over while Aiden spoke.

“We’re here to talk.” For what’s it’s worth the vampire was easy on the eyes. Most were.

Edwin bared his fangs, “I have no business with you, please leave.” Aiden didn’t need to be told twice and stunned the vampire who was knocked out cold. They stepped inside, locking the door and tied up the vampire.

Inside was beautifully decorated and not a speck of dust on the counters or in the air. It was all clean and in shades of grey, white and beige with a few green houseplants. The windows were clean with no smudges and Orion sniffed the air.

Nothing new. Potters scent had been removed from the house, not even a whiff of it remained.

He glances at the Vampire. Smart thing.

They snooped around, but there was no magical artefacts- and Potters room was bland at best. Dark sure, dark greys, greens and black. Which Orion took note of but aside from that nothing personal- no personal items, or things. No pictures or anything.

“Third floor?” Aiden asks and they rise to the last floor and push open the only door.

The two of them just stood there for a moment in shock.

There was glass doors leading to a balcony they couldn’t see from where they’d been that looked over the city- plants here and there and the night poured in, but there was already a salt lamp going- melted enough to tell them that it had been forgotten.

But it revealed paintings upon paintings, sketches lined the walls, statues and carvings. The clay sculptures were so realistic it was like they’d start talking and the animals would start walking. The paintings- some were alive with magic, moving between portraits that had similar landscapes.

He steps in shock towards the largest painting that went from floor to ceiling with a ladder beside it and the dragon-

“That’s fucking Blacks dragon,” Aiden chokes out.

And it is. Every scale- the gleam of the eyes, the background- it was when Hadrian had introduced his black Ukrainian Ironbelly crossed with a Hungarian Horntail. It had the Ironbelly’s lean body but the protruding spikes of the Horntail at the neck- black, sharp and thin and two glowing green eyes, it’s mouth open and glowing with fire moments before it burst forth.

It was on its hind legs, wings slightly spread and roaring to the world.

It was so realistic it might have been what it looked like had they seen it as a juvenile.

“I think he’s already discovered it- perhaps Hadrian left memories?” Aiden was grasping at straws but Orion wasn’t quite sure what to think.

“This… could have been Hadrians safe house that he kept talking about,” he murmurs, bushing a hand over the art and then dropped down to the plaque and read aloud, “Vivamus moriendum est.”

“To live we must die?” Aiden murmurs, thinking about it. But Orion only had eyes for what it said beneath that.

“Hadrian ‘Hades’ Black, 1963.”

“A year before he died,” Aiden sighs and they look at the dragon. Then the statues. The features made no sense to him but Aiden read the names aloud,

“Scorpius Malfoy- interesting, Nevan Longbottom, Zayn Weasley, Teddy Lupin and… Hadrian Potter.”

Except it wasn’t a boy and the man looked very different. Older, with a beard and a faint scar across his eye. They were staring at something distant and his hand held a wand- prepared to fight. Ruggedly handsome, Orion supposes he would be described. His hair fell to his shoulders- not tied up purely because it was probably easier to sculpt. His position was rough- desperateness more than technique, with the thinning of his lips or his leg that was put forward in a way that seemed sudden. Like someone had been threatened and he’d stepped forward to stop someone from killing a person that was unseen.

The clothes were rugged- war-like auror things that he didn’t quite recognise but could see the usefulness of them.

“Is this a different era?” Orion wonders.

“It would have to be. Perhaps that’s what Hadrian is named after.”

“Fleamont didn’t have a sister right?” Orion asks in confusion. Aiden merely shrugs.

“Secret love child.” They sigh simultaneously and then look at Scorpius Malfoy. “Definitely a Malfoy- no doubt about it.” Aiden jerks his head to Zayn.

“That’s definitely a Weasley. Nevan has too fine a features for a Longbottom.” Orion speculates that perhaps the Longbottom’s used to look more aristocratic but… those eyes…

“Lovegood, he’s a Longbottom and a Lovegood cross,” Orion mutters and Aiden sends him a sharp look, reminding him Nevan was human. He waves his hand. “Wrong choice of words.” Aiden grunts. They turn to Teddy Lupin- the boy was tall, gangly and lean with rough features not dissimilar to Hadrian but in a different way. Then they notice the small carved fangs.

“Vampire?” Orion asks and turns to Aiden but the man shakes his head .

“Too small for a vamp. Werewolf probably- halfbreed or perhaps a metamorphmagus.”

“An interesting group,” he mutters.

“I wonder if he’s the teacher,” Aiden asks, looking at the man. “A past DADA teacher?”

“There’s no guarantee any of them go or went to Hogwarts,” Orion argues and Aiden nods thoughtfully. It’s definitely too realistic to not be a series of memories and he pauses. “Why would they be in Hadrians art room? These are memory pieces but they can’t possible be Hadrians memories- either of them. Potter is too young and Black never lived past thirty-five.”

Aiden nods in agreement slowly.

“An ancestors memory? They can be stored in the vaults.”

“The Blacks and Potters never crossed aside from Dorea and Charlus. But they’re dead and their daughter never had any kids before she also passed away recently.” Aiden sighs and rubs his forehead.

“There was a Hadrian Potter in the distant past,” Orion scrunched up his face. “I don’t remember the particulars.” Aiden shivers a bit.

“I’m getting the feeling that there’s been a lot of reincarnation here.” Orion cocks his head, thinking about it.

“No. I don’t think they were alike. If I remember anything- it was that the Potters naturally have brown hair- which usually means black and blonde or just brown and red through the years. Considering no Potters have had genes of blonde I think it’s the latter. Considering Hadrians hair colour never changed even in reincarnation- which I believe it should.” Aiden scratches his head and then says,

“Yeah but what if reincarnation is just the possession of a body rather than say, transferring your own body through time.” It’s reasonable- if not for one thing.

“No, because the brain knows what you look like so it would change the genes- magic enabling it to do so and you would change your appearance. That’s how the law of magic and mind works.” Aiden says and just growls in frustration,

“I just want it to be fucking true. That this is some weird reincarnation that he’s done and that somehow- he’s found his way back to us.”

They look to the dragon together and then Orion sighed. “I know. I know so do I but for now we have a vampire downstairs we need to obliviate and then report our findings.” Aiden nods curtly and they walk down to the vampire who was twitching- just awakening.

So they obliviate him, place him on the couch, remove their traces and disappear without a word down the street- apparating to the Malfoy Manor.

Really Grimmauld place was just an awful place to be, with Hadrians memories and all the changes he’d done to the place, Avery’s mansion had been pulled off them because of illicit activity and Thaddeus had no liveable place after World War Two.

They walk down the hallways that were unbearably blank now that they’ve left Hadrians art filled room.

“Do you think Potter did any of his own artworks?” Aiden asks at last and Orion has to think about it. They were all professional paintings- but that’s not to say Potter hasn’t been painting for years.

“Perhaps. Maybe he’s hidden them or is embarrassed to openly displayed them. Or his paintings were on par with Hadrians and we couldn’t tell the difference.” Aiden grunts, clearly not liking that Potter may be as good as Hadrian.

There seems to be a meeting on by the Knights placed around the hallways and the doors of the dining room. They walk inside once the doors are pushed open for them- conversation coming to a temporary halt.

Orion notices Abraxas holding letters and Thaddeus holding his own letter with the newspaper between them.

He held eye contact with Thaddeus’s dark eyes and the man drawls-

“Potters a Parselmouth- and the current Slytherin King.”

Chapter Text

He fits in quite well at Hogwarts. It’s easy. Adapting to his own way of living within the halls. Or gaining power amongst other houses.

He’d talked with Remus- and they often had tea together or just walked the grounds, talking about his mum and dad. Remus was his source of information and it was also fucking amazing being around him. He was relieved- if nothing else.

He’s made friends with Cedric- which he was never able to before. He’s talked to Ron- Merlin he’s different and they’d decided on being allies for what it was worth. Hermione was indeed in Ravenclaw now and her personality had been tamed somewhat back in second year. Now she had taken more thought on her appearance and calmly wrote notes.

If she hadn’t been smart in the past- the witch was a genius now. A pure prodigious genius.

So he’d also became friends with her because he has no doubt she may discover something that will help him.

Neville was Rons friend so he’d also inadvertently met the boy. Being with Ron had crafted a more confident kid but he was still slightly doubtful of his own skills but he has no doubt that by the end of next year that will be gone and Lord Longbottom would be back.

Dean and Seamus hadn’t changed, unsurprisingly and Luna- well Luna perhaps scared him more than she should.

On the first run she’d had no reason to see more than she should since there was nothing to see.

However… She could see that he was an unknown variable in Hogwarts and had yet to quite know how to take the Master of Death.

Apparently the he owns the Grimm. Isn’t that interesting?

He may look into it later.

Yes, so he’d been kind to her but not overly so.

He’d avoided Viktor as he had no interest of getting close to that moron unless he could help it. He also steered clear of Igor Karkaroff and Hagrid- bless the giant, had stopped being the gamekeeper.

Instead- it was fucking Nicholas Moriarty.

He wanted to fucking strangle Barty but hadn’t made anything noticeable. He’d simply taken it at face value and had talked to the idiot like he may normally.

They also had a new Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Fern Dunaine, a Scottish teacher who knew creatures well enough he could answer any questions you had.

Hadrian prods at the food on his plate, thinking of the first task today.

“Are you ready?” Draco asks at his side. He’s been a good friend and- while it wasn’t always easy- they just clicked. There was no better explanation for it.

“I think I’ll be fine,” he answers passively, aware of the Durmstrang students listening in. They were stiff- like they knew something and he knows they do. He knows each and everyone of them knows that the boy who defeated Voldemort is in Slytherin and they feel restricted to mention their school- in fear he’d mention it to Albus.

He glances at Viktor- who purses his lips and returns his attention to a brooding Daphne.

She’d seen what his power over the other houses had done and it had come into affect. He smirks and returns to his food.

It’s not that he’s nervous about the actual competition. Hell he knows everything that’s going to happen. The issue lays within the fact that as a dragon animagus this time round- he’s never actually come into contact with another dragon.

He has no idea how the Hungarian Horntail is going to react to it- if it’s going to be even more aggressive- or whether it will bow down to him. He hopes he can use parseltongue anyway.

He’d met the Ukrainian Ironbelly he’d freed in the first run later on in his life and had discovered he could talk to it. Of course it had been an emergency situation to get his friends children away from the muggles- but it had worked so that was his backup plan if he couldn’t get this dragon under control.

Although… it would maybe quicken his rise to power within the Slytherins… Hmm.

He glances at Dumbledore- whose looking at Moriarty like he’d grown three heads- though slightly concealed but he agrees. How could Barty be that fucking moronic? And he knows it’s Barty because he’s the only person who would willingly go into enemy territory and be sneaky enough to steal from Severus’s potion ingredients cupboard.

Hadrian wants nothing more than to walk up to that table, grab the man be the ear and yell, ‘THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!’ But he can’t do that. One because it’s rude and disruptive- two because it would expose him to both Barty and Dumbledore. Maybe a few others.

Dumbledore stands, clearing his throat and orders, “Champions can you please make your way to the tent outside the Quidditch Stadium- students could you please organise yourselves in the stadium. Thank you.” Hadrian stood, leaving his food relatively untouched and made his way outside. It was chilly but not cold, outside, Hadrian notices.

He watches the clouds as he walks, wondering how Edwin and Dracula are doing.

He shakes it off and Barty- ever the opportunist, sneaks up his side unusually silently. He supposes being stealthy is in the spies blood.

He survived the death of Voldemort in the first go after all.

“Professor,” he acknowledges with a nod and Nicholas’s pale blue eyes glance at him and lips part in a smile. It’s not that Barty has taken over the actual appearance of Nicholas- which would discourage those that knew what he actually looked like- but it was the fake knowledge that had been spread around that Barty had picked up that made him really idiotic.

Because the people that knew what Moriarty really looked like- would never be more than a kilometre close. Those that didn’t- well they were just in for hunting the man and wouldn’t care what damage they wrought in the meantime.

He might call in some acquaintances later to fix this up- or he’ll change the poly juice potion at some point.

“Hadrian, nervous?”

“As much as anybody could be professor,” he replies, glancing at the other competitors around him. Fleur was in front with Cedric- but Viktor was a force to be reckoned with behind him. Viktor was a good quidditch player which means he had to have the receptive abilities to see things fast. That allows good judgement in difficult situations.

He’s not sure how strong Viktor actually is. He was just a pawn the first time- so how strong was he now and how loyal?

He can’t feel Toms magic as he once could- but he could feel large amounts of it faintly. But Viktor hadn’t been directly around Tom- unlike Barty.

It was coming off the man in subtle waves. He could see it at the moment, rather than feel it. Barty’s shadow flickered every so often. Like Tom was listening.

“Have a plan?”

“Of course,” he replies, rotating his wand between his fingers. He glances at the tent and stops outside of it. “What if I can’t defeat the dragon professor?” Barty blinks.

“How did you know?”

“I saw some of it when I followed Hagrid,” he lies and shrugs. Viktor barges past- going inside. Fucking bastard.

“You’re not supposed to be out past curfew Potter, I’ll minus two points for that. Aside from that- don’t like Mr Krum?” He meets Barty’s gaze head on, showing him his exact opinion of Viktor on his face.

“A competitor is an enemy sir and I think he’s a right git.” He didn’t usually use words like that- but he supposes that’s what spending a lot of time around old Ron does. This time round, Ron swore far more colourfully than before.

It was refreshing.

“Thank you, Professor but I need to go.” He slips inside and Dumbledore is waiting, holding green in his hands. He smiles, “Headmaster.” Dumbledore offers a soft smile and hands over the robes. Cedric is getting them from Pamona Sprout. “Where’s Professor Snape?” Dumbledore fake pouts,

“Don’t want to be around me Hadrian?” Ever the Dumbledore-pleaser he backtracks quickly,

“No of course not sir, but I supposed Snape wouldn’t want to be here.” Dumbledore bows his head.

“He’s busy at the moment, so I came to hand these to you and to see you off.”

“Thanks professor.” He goes to the bed compartments where there’s curtained off rooms and closes one. He’d noticed when Dumbledore had placed it in his hand that it was different from the Tournament gear he was used to. He unfolds it and it reveals a black warded jacket and a dark green long sleeved shirt- a compression shirt and normal black pants. He changes swiftly, enjoying the feel of the shirt. It felt supportive- though it did reveal his abs. So he’s not quite sure he wants girls swooning over him just yet.

Not that there weren’t any.

He changes and remains in his converse. He thinks they’re comfortable- even if they’re not exactly wizarding fashion.

But they were enchanted to grip and speed him up in a moment so he’d be taking that over anything else.

He steps out and Dumbledore nods in approval and even Pamona looked partially surprised.

“Muggle clothes?” Viktor asks with a slight sneer and he subtly flicks a finger behind his back. Viktor looked sick all of a sudden and maintained the urge for a few seconds before he rushed outside to puke.

“Didn’t realised you loathe muggles that much,” Hadrian replies flatly.

To be fair he can say that he hates muggles the most- but he’s not biased about it.

Igor looked pissed and moved to Viktor. But he ignores him completely, which probably pisses him off more.

He’s not sure why he is a bit surprised when Crouch Sr appears.

It’s not like he hadn’t done this the first time too. But he doesn’t appear to be under the affects of the imperius this time. He could always dig around for it.

“Alright Champions, gather round, gather round.” The bag is wriggling, the dragons no doubt angry at being contained.

He steps in beside Cedric, offering his friend a smile and Cedric smiles back.

“Alright, we’ll go from eldest to youngest- Viktor you pick one out first, be careful.” He opens the bag and Viktor- the jinx now wearing off, reached in and picked out the Chinese fireball. Fleur picked out the Common Welsh Green and of course Cedric had the Swedish Short-Snout.

With a resigned sigh he pulls out the Hungarian Horntail.

Then he had to forcefully calm himself as the others began. He could only hear the roaring and the cheering of the stadium and little else.

The waiting was perhaps the worst part- the whole time he spent meditating to keep his nerves from getting the better of him.

“Hadrian,” Dumbledore alerts him and he glances at the Horntail.

It tries to viscously maul his hand and the tiny spurts of fire is hot but not hot enough to burn.

He then hands it over and five minutes later the stands are silent and he stands in the corridor- right where he’d stood before.

The times overlap for a moment but he takes a deep breath and walks forward. Events won’t have changed enough for the Hungarian Horntail to NOT be above him when he exits.

So he thinks over spells for a moment as he walks and then decides…

Why doesn’t he just apparate? It would be suspicious for a fourteen year old but he’d never wanted to be normal anyway.

He stands at the lip of the cave so that the crowd can see him but the dragon would still be waiting to lunge. He spots the nest and readies himself- before he apparates.

It’s a resounding crack- because the younger you and the less practice you have- the more… snappy, it tends to be.

The crowd roars as Hadrian stands on top of the pillar and stares at the dragon that stared at him for all of one second before roaring and blasting him with flames.

A simple redirection of the flames allowed him enough time to pick up the fake egg and the dragons fire ceased before leaping at him, swinging it’s tail, he takes a step back and narrowly avoids the tail- and falling off the column.

As a dragon animagus- he’s well aware of where a dragons shortcomings come. The Hungarian Horntail, for a dragon- was very bulky and less agile. They’re also one of the heaviest which means it has a greater momentum and has to follow through with its weight.

Usually to counter this it will pin the target between itself and a rock face to smash its prey- or if it flees, use the rock to absorb the impact and redirect its body at the prey.

Since the column was along and the tallest rock face- there was nowhere for the Horntail to redirect and it was forced to fly and spin around again, lest it wanted to fall down and give Hadrian the high ground.

“No need to attack me,” he hisses. The dragon snarls at him- before its head whips around again, eyes focused on him and it looped around, distracted and missing its opportunity.

“You speak,” it snarls in the air before landing opposite him and standing upright. How interesting, dragons do understand when he’s in human form.

“I would happen to yes, I believe it’s a blood trait.” The dragons angry hazel eyes dipped down to the egg and lowered its head before glancing down at its clutch.

“That is not an egg.” He nods in understanding.

“Wizards are cruel like that. If you don’t attack me, your clutch will be unscathed and I swear I’ll make sure all dragons are free.” The dragon hisses, baring its fangs. Although he recognises it as a laugh.

“Foolish wizard, you cannot make sure all dragons are free. The only free dragon of our kind was Ekkathion. " Hadrian blinks at the name of his dragon years ago and the dragon who had gifted him his animus body in the first run. Due to complications in the past, he’d been unable to have an animus body so Ekkathion had reappeared as his closest ally, hatched from an egg found in the Dark Forest.

“Ekkathion…” he murmurs in deep thought. Brow furrowing.

“You are a cruel human, but I shall let you go,” the dragon announces, moving to settle over her eggs and Hadrian steps back.

“I promise, one day,” he tells the dragon.”I swear.” The dragon blinks and seems thoughtful but he does hastily leave for the passage. The crowd is confusingly quiet but it doesn’t matter too much to him.

“Any injuries?” Madame Pomfrey asks and he gives her a quick shake of his head.

“No injuries.” She beams.

“That, Mr Potter, is a feat in itself.” He gives her a smile and after he’s checked out anyway and deemed fit to return to school. Viktor also seems relatively unharmed, Fleur is suffering rom a twisted ankle and a broken wrist and Cedric is covered in ash and has a mild burn on his shoulder but otherwise everyone is alright.

Their professors all come to greet them and announce the points.

Understandably, Hadrian didn’t come first as there was a suspect of cheating and dark magic. He didn’t really care and pointedly avoided Crouch Snr’s probing questions.

“-you apparated at fourteen years of age Mr Potter, we have to denote points for suspicious usage of magic. Was it a relic? Need I remind you-” on and on he went while he stood there boredly, surveying the idiot that was Barty’s father.

“Need I remind you,” he interrupts, “that you could put me last for all I care. I didn’t cheat, I can illegally apparate or however else you would like to put it. It’s called being a parselmouth,” he says sarcastically, “and it’s a genetical trait like being a metamorphmagus. So excuse you, Mr Crouch, for being too advanced for my age. I didn’t put my name in the cup, it’s not like I want to be here.” He raises a brow and feels quite proud he didn’t raise his voice even once. Even and smooth.

The mans face flooded brilliant red and began to stumble over his words-

“Yes- well- Mr Potter you have to- you have to see that- that it’s very, very suspicious don’t you? Very coincidental?”

“Oh yes, very, very coincidental,” he responds dryly. “But I hardly see the point. My goal is to get through it without harm, not to win. Just put me last.”

“Well then the crowd will be unhappy-”

“So?” Hadrian raised a brow. “I wasn’t aware this was a show. This is a feature of strength and wit, Mr Crouch. The crowd can feel whatever they want. Ultimately they will keep watching.” Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder.

“Mr Potter has spoken Mr Crouch. We shall leave you to conclude the points given.”

“Mr Dumbledore-”

“Oh dear me look at the time,” Dumbledore responds, glancing at his wrist where- when Hadrian peered at him- a watch should have been but there was nothing, “time for dinner. Come on my boys.” Cedric followed, looking at Hadrian with a strange look. He gives Cedric a wry grin and made a face at Crouch. Cedric smiles in laughter and they walked with Pamona and Barty to the palace.

“A parselmouth Potter,” Cedric says with a grin, “can you talk to snakes? What are they like?” Hadrian smiles. He didn’t realise Cedric would be so curious.

“I can and they’re very snobby,” he says with a sigh and a smug grin. “Most of the larger ones are under the impression they could swallow you hole. It’s like catering to rich nobles. You pretend they’re the ones who have the power- they don’t really.”

The four of them all laughed while Barty grinned a bit.

“Are there other parselmouth?” Cedric asks and Hadrian shrugs, even though he feels Barty’s gaze burning into his neck.

“There’s rumours that Voldie-” he hears Barty choke on his spit- “is a parselmouth,” he replies dryly, looking at Barty turning red from trying not to make it obvious. “Is something wrong professor?” He asks and Pamona looks back and then lets out a sigh and gives Barty a good thump on the back and the man coughs out his spit. “Lovely,” Hadrian says with a raised brow before looking at Cedric with a shrug. “But again, that’s just rumours I think. Do you know Professor Dumbledore?”

The man purses his lips.

“Unfortunately, I know he is.”

“Hmm. Well I’m not surprised. I bet he’s the reason people don’t like us.”

Ugh, slandering Tom felt wrong. Like the words were all shaped wrong and meant to be something else. Something like- ‘He tried the hardest to make us accepted by society.’

He kept his silence though. Barty was there and if he started saying good things about a psychopathic murderer- well… lovely.

Jeeze, what the hell would everyone think?

“Sounds about right,” Pamona says in agreement. Dumbledore glanced back at him and Hadrian sent him a quizzical look before he returned his attentions to Cedric and then elbowed him.

“Well we didn’t die. First task down.” Cedric let out an exasperated sigh.

“Dear me Potter, we haven’t even gotten back inside yet. The dragons could get out.”

“I doubt it,” he says with a grin. “I think you’ll come first.”

“Nah, I think Viktor has a strong chance, he dealt with it quick and strong,” Cedric replied thoughtfully. “Durmstrang certainly seems a bit psychotic.”

“I’m sure Karkaroff would love to hear that,” Dumbledore says dryly. Hadrian shrugs.

“It’s true.” The group seemed to stare at him. “What?”

“How would you know that?” Barty asks. “You’ve barely been here.” He raises a brow,

“Like you’re anybody to speak.”

“Mr Moriarty went to Durmstrang,” Dumbledore says before coughing and hiding a laugh. It makes Hadrians lips quirk but he turned to look Barty up and down- the scrawny-ish figure making it seem laughable.

“Really? Wouldn’t you have… I don’t know, more muscle, brown hair? Paler skin?”

He’s never seen Barty look so offended in his life. He sees Dumbledores shoulders shaking in amusement. Barty grumbles and looks away.

Smart, no need to own up to his lie. The diversion also meant nobody remembered to question how he knew.

He realised he hadn’t gotten changed and seemingly neither had Cedric.

They walked into the hall where Fleur and Viktor had already gotten there with their schools. Viktor was celebrating first place and his friend group was celebrating raucously

The Slytherins stared at him and Draco motions over. With a nod to Cedric, he diverges from the group and moves to the Slytherins table, highly aware he’s wearing muggle clothes. Draco ran an eye over it and scrutinises it for a moment.

“Is this new tournament gear?” Hayes ask, looking at the clothes.

“It’s just what Dumbledore gave to me,” he responds. “Warded.” He grabs a knife and attempts to stab himself- both Draco and Hayes jerk but the ward sparks green and the knife glances off and he looks at the chipped end before putting it back on the table. “See?”

The table stares at him before Draco asks, “Are you mad?” He swipes the knife away from him. “You can’t just attempt to stab yourself.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes and crooned at Draco in Parseltongue- “Darling you’re a little bit too worried for my liking.” Draco’s jaw dropped and for a brief minute Hadrian thought Draco had understood what he said.

“So you can speak to snakes,” Blaise blurted. Hadrian turned to him and raised a brow.

“I’m talking to you right now- ow,” he rubs his arm as Hayes punches him lightly. Hayes mocks him for a moment before saying dryly,

“That’s not what he meant and you know it. But for real, a parselmouth?” He could see it, the acting- the mask. It’s nowhere near complete, nowhere near perfected. Not as much as Hayes thought it would be.

They probably thought he didn’t have one. Or at least, that’s how it should come off.

“Try and at least sound a bit excited,” Hadrian says with a sigh. “It’s unfortunate really. Nobody likes you when you can talk to snakes. But all of a sudden if I talk to a dragon that’s way cooler.”

“Hadrian Black could talk to dragons too,” Theodore points out. “So for Slytherins that’s epic. Nobody knew you could-”

“Okay, okay I’m going to correct everyone right now.” They all stared at him. “Firstly, snakes are descendants of serpents- which were just a type of dragon. You have amphipteres which have no legs but have wings and a serpent like body. You have drakes who had four legs, a tail and no wings and you have wyverns, two hind legs, two wings and a tail. The Hungarian Horntail is one of them. The dragons are ones like the Swedish-short snout. They have four legs. Serpents can also be referred to as wyrms.”

Pairs of eyes blink owlishly at him.

“You seem to know a lot about dragons,” Draco says calmly. Hadrian shrugs.

When you’re a dragon you tend to get defensive about your kind and the misconceptions people have, but he can’t say that.

“They’re my favourite magical creature. Even the muggles respect them.”

“Really?” Thaddeus asks curiously.

“They just think they don’t actually exist. It’s a big part of lots of cultures.”

“Huh,” Draco says thoughtfully. “That’s interesting.”

“Which ones your favourite?” Daphne asks and everyone listens in.

“I don’t have a favourite breed,” Hadrian admits. “All of them have their flaws. I think, if I was to create the best dragon though, I’d mix a Ukrainian Ironbelly, a Hungarian Horntail and a Hebridean Black. An Ironbelly’s scales are the strongest and they’re the largest of all dragons but quite flighty. A Horntails horns are quite poisonous so their spines would be a biological aid and a Hebridean Blacks is the most intelligent and strongest of the dragons in term of dragon mass and it’s scale formations means that going against it is almost impossible. It can grow up to thirty feet long and combined with the Ironbelly’s unique size- well that would be quite interesting. They’re all bipedal so in theory- it could work.”

“Huh, interesting,” Daphne says. “What would that look like?” Hadrian had to think for a moment.

The thing with Ekkathion that he hadn’t told anyone about- was that he was already also a Hebridean Black. It wasn’t just Ironbelly and Horntail. It’s where his signature black colour comes from.

“Well I could try and describe it using genetics if you want.”

“How much have you researched it?” Hayes asks incredulously. Hadrian rubs the back of his neck.

“Dragons are my hobby. I’ve actually bet an Ironbelly and a Hebridean before- and now obviously an Horntail. I want to meet an Antipodean Opaleye, they’re the most beautiful dragons, so everyone says.”

“Can you describe it?” Daphne asks.

“Well,” Hadrian cocks his head and then summons a piece of paper and a pencil. “The Hebridean and Horntail both share their traits with spines and that’s a dominant gene which means the dragon would have the mixed spines but not on the tail. Hebridean’s have a sword tail tip and that’s dominant so that would appear…” he scratches his chin. “Hebridean black colour is also dominant because there’s more melanin in the scales. The short snout of a Horntail is recessive so I think it would be a fight between an Ironbelly snout or a Hebridean one- definitely Hebridean teeth though. Wings are dependant on size, weight and gender so they can’t be decided. The scales would be of Ironbelly hardness but Hebridean formation… So roughly like this.” He flips the drawing around so Daphne could see and they all stare at it.

“How can you draw so well?” Blaise asks suspiciously.

“It is a hobby of mine.”

“It looks like Ekkathion,” Theodore says quietly. Surprise quietly ripples through him and he glances at the Slytherin. “Do you know him?”

“The Horntail mentioned him…” he thinks for a minute. “There’s actually a painting of a dragon in one of the studios I have of a dragon like this.” It is true, he’d done it a long long time ago.

“Does it have a plaque?” Draco asks curiously.

“It says Hadrian ‘Hades’ Black,” he says, before pausing- and internally applauding his acting skills. “Are they related?”

“Ekkathion…” Other Slytherin students glance at Draco in warning but he ignores them. “Ekkathion was his familiar. He was the greatest Weapon and beast Magical Britain has ever had within its borders and Mr Black controlled him.” Hadrian rubbed his jaw in interest. Because it was interesting to see how other people viewed him. “Well that’s interesting,” Draco says. “What are you doing during Winter Break?”

Hadrian sighs and leans against the table in irritation. “Too much. I have to deal with a lot of adults who think they can manipulate me.” He glares up at the teachers table at Barty who wasn’t watching and then returned to scratch the back of his neck. “There’ll also be some… less legal things, that I have to deal with.”

“You do illegal things?” Blaise gasps with pretence. “The Great Hadrian Potter- an illegal-” Hadrian rolls his eyes,

“Hush hush. Surprise surprise. It’s technically illegal to be an adult at fourteen. I’m a living hazard, anyway not the point.” Hadrian scoops his dinner into his mouth. He’s not that hungry, which isn’t too surprising.

Draco, Theodore and Daphne were watching him with a tad of suspicion.

“This illegal… stuff, doesn’t involve murder, does it?” Draco asks carefully. Hadrian glances at him and didn’t deign him a response.

“I think we should be asking who,” Theodore responds and Hadrian responds flatly,

“I don’t think you should be asking at all.” People were watching them and muttering.

A ripple of unease passed through him for a moment and he paused. He turned to see Mad-eye scanning the room and he spotted a sense of something strange pass through everyone-

He put his fork down, focusing for a moment and then realises-

The wards were being breached.

He locked eyes with Barty- blue eyes staring at him.

Moriarty’s enemies were here.

And Hadrian was about to kill Barty.

Chapter Text

Dumbledore evacuated all students to the courtyard to get everyone evacuated to Hogsmeade and in the chaos, Hadrian walked up beside Barty- who was beginning to look a little bit pale.

“Did you get more than you bargained for?” Hadrian asks and Barty flinched away from him for a split second before grunting,

“Oh it’s just you-” Barty whipped back around. “What?” Hadrian glared at Barty.

“You know precisely what I mean. Nicholas Moriarty looks nothing like you-” Barty seemed to look like a floundering fish for a moment, “-nor does he act like you.” His words were sharp, violent. “After this I’ll be hanging you from the astronomy tower by your intestines,” he snarled, eyes flashing brilliant green. “To be so foolish to draw his enemies near is downright senseless, ill-advised and injudicious!”

“You know words like that-” Hadrian kicked the back of Barty’s knee in and the man stumbled for a moment. “I will remind you that I am a teacher-”

“I will remind you I am this close to blowing your cover,” Hadrian responded with gritted teeth, pinching his fingers together. Barty’s eyes narrowed. They walked to the courtyard and Hadrian used his magic and spread it over the grounds to get a feel for where everything was.

As he thought- they were moving up the west side, around to where they were. They couldn’t have stayed in Hogwarts. Dumbledore began sending groups with prefects and one teacher at a time to Hogsmeade. Half young half older.

Hadrian observed the situation and knew they wouldn’t make it to Hogsmeade. He drew his wand and walked to the edge of the courtyard, jumping over the windowsill into the corridor and began making his way to the people instead.

He heard Barty follow him and hiss- “Kid where the hell are you going?”

“They’re on the move, unless you want students to die, Moriarty,” he says, his voice dripping with venom, “in which I will kill you where you stand, I’m going to intervene.”

He turns away from Barty but his hand grips his arm tightly and Hadrian whips around- but Barty’s eyes are narrowed.

“Don’t be an idiot, your a student. The teachers can fight them off. I can fight them off. You’ll get injured.” Hadrian glanced down the slope through the window and towards the lake where he saw wizards running the edge of the boundary.

His lips thin.

“Then you should leave and take them all with you,” Hadrian says, yanking his arm from Barty. “I think that would be enough to keep my mouth shut, don’t you?” Barty stared at him and then grunts.

“Fine. I can deal with that much.”

“At least your not a coward,” Hadrian responds bitterly. Barty stared and the shrugs.

“You swear you won’t say a word.”

“A man is only as good as his word. Just don’t expect me to like you.” Barty nods and Hadrian steps away from him, rejoining the leaving groups. When he looks back, Barty is gone.

Dumbledore spots him in the crowd and he gets stuck with Viktor, Cedric, Fleur, Draco, three first years, Ron Weasley, Draco and Ginevra.

They move quickly, the four champions at the front and Hadrian is scanning the area. He can feel Barty moving closer to the wizards- but not fast enough.

“We need to speed up,” Viktor growls, glancing at him. They shared a look and he grunts. Cedric and Fleur both look between them.

If Viktor had singled him out as the strongest competitor already- then that was some keen sense of perception.

“Malfoy, Weasley, pick a kid.” He hears them pick up a kid and surprisingly Ginny picks one up too. She was fit from practicing quidditch and the kid was a skinny twig so he wasn’t too worried. He had his wand gripped tightly.

“Delacour and Diggory take the back,” Viktor orders and the two fall back willingly, without a fuss. Hadrian keeps an eye on the tree line as they rush across the bridge and they see other students rushing ahead of them but there was a rather large gap-

Four figures erupted from the tree line, dressed in all black and blocked their route. Wands were raised and Viktor and Hadrian both shout-

“Protego!” Red and green erupt from the wand and mix to form a brilliant blue shield just as fire erupts, scorching the earth beneath their feet.

He knew who they were.

Mactator.

An Italian organisation made of brutal slaughterers and killers who were after Moriarty’s head due to a flaw in their operations that cost them thousands of Galleons. They were furious and willing to kill anybody- including children.

“Mactator,” Krum growls and Hadrian stares at him as they hold up the shield.

“How the hell do you know about them?” He snaps and Krum stares at him.

“How in hell do you know?”

“Can ve argue later!” Fleur shouts and then the killers began fanning out, speaking Italian rapidly and over the crackling of maintaining the spell, sounded like gibberish.

Protego wouldn’t hold up for much longer so he shouts, “Expecto Patronum!” He had to carefully craft it to be a stag and the giant deer bounded to them and shocked, they split, disorganised for a moment and Krum shouts,

“Bombarda Maxima!” The bomb that exploded was powerful enough to render them immobile for a moment while alerting others where they currently. “Let’s go!”

They rush through the smoke, coughing a bit and Hadrian spots Barty in the trees, hitting the four men with a variety of spells.

He’s not nearly as effective as the real Moriarty though.

They scramble up to Hogsmeade and pause as its surrounded by Mactator men. They’re all dressed in black and soon the nine of them are shoved to their knees, with other Hogwarts students.

What does he need to do?

The men are yelling Moriarty’s name and Krum mutters, “We need to get rid of them. Your professor is not the real Moriarty. He can’t fend them off. Foolish man.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Hadrian glares around at them all. One of them men spots him and stares at him for a moment, brown eyes glaring at him with something akin to recognition.

One of them comes close and he hides his wand for now. They grip his face, staring and he glares at them.

“Assomiglia proprio ad Ade,” the man says- and he recognises his name. Hades or Ade. One of them grab his shirt and drag him away from the others and he’s brought a metre away.

“Hadrian!” Draco calls and gets a kick in the ribs and a silencio.

He meets Krum gaze through the men who began surrounding him. There’s a few witches too.

Barty was never that intelligent.

He needs… ah, what he needs is a dragon. He uses a silent sonorous spell and hisses out,

“Ssserpent of Ssslytherin- come aid me-” he switches to the dragon dialect, “Great Mother Dragons, a fellow dragonet requests your help.” He got a violent silencing spell, once they realised the hissing was coming from him.

Silence ensued for a long moment and everyone was silent- as if everyone collectively wondered what he had done. There was a fight going on in the forest- but moments later, reverberations shook the air and he risked a glance up- to four dragons in the air and closing in fast.

The Horntail was leading and let loose a violent roar.

The dark wizards shouted and aimed high but they were immune to any spells. Dragon hide was perfect like that.

They dove and then plucked the dark wizards from the floor and soon he heard a hiss-

“Master, where are you?” He coughs blood as he breaks the spell and then hisses,

“Here, I am here.” He spots the scales between the buildings and shouts to the students, “EVERYONE CLOSE YOUR EYES!” Everyone who heard him followed his commands and soon the giant basilisk appeared and he got to his feet as the dragons looped around counting to pick one or two of the people at a time.

The Fireball landed on the roof as a wizard attempted to run away and snapped him up from the ground.

The wizards around him turned to stone and the basilisk snapped three up for dinner. She moved quickly and he quickly disabled other wizards, making it easier for the dragons.

How was Barty faring? He was technically outside of the wards but would he have the power to apparate? He couldn’t let him die.

“Great mother I need your wings!” He cries out to the Horntail, rushing to the open end of Diagon and the Horntail spots him and her confusion is evident for a moment until Hadrian lets his animagus form be felt.

She dove immediately and landed.

“You are a dragonet,” she asks, confused.

“I am, Ekkathion’s, dragonet.” She stares, spines rippling as her nostrils flared before she jerked her head up.

“So you are. Come young, climb.” He flings himself onto her back- not ungracefully but not as well as he’d have liked. He isn’t used to being on a Horntails back. He hisses to the basilisk,

“You’ve done well, go into the forest and kill any wizards in black you find.” The basilisk nods and slithers away to the forest. “Forest, please, I need to help an idiotic ally of mine.”

The dragon huffs, taking off and he grips her spines as she flies, quickly rising above the tree line and they scan the forest together, attempting to find Barty.

He switches his sight and everything becomes clearer. The Fireball and Shortsnout soon regroup to them and then the Welsh green returns, taking up the flank. They have to fly over the lake beach to find them though.

Barty is duelling two on one and barely holding out.

“There,” he points out and she dives, swooping the two shocked wizards out in her talons before climbing high to drop them- the Fireball and Green both tear them to blood and sinew in the air before she loops back around to land on the beach with Barty there.

He glares at the man.

“You owe me one.” Barty stared at him and then laughs, collapsing to his knees and burying his face in his hands. “Get on.”Barty hesitantly approaches the growling Horntail. He offers a hand and pulls Barty up. They take off once more, flying up the hill to land in the square once more.

“You owe me a debt, hatchling. Do not forget your promise.”

Hadrian slid off and looks up at her.

“I will never forget.” The dragons snort and then take off.

Dumbledore appears and the place is soon surrounded by aurors, all looking at the petrified bodies, getting statements, and examining the bodies.

It’s soon a hustle bustle of people.

A lot of people were called in for statements and he was too. He was questions about the men- not about the basilisks or dragons.

Nobody asked. He wondered if that was because of Dumbledore. It was a lot of stress and it was late evening now. He was exhausted and felt like he should just collapse into bed.

Barty walked over and said quietly, “Thanks, for saving my backside back there.” Hadrian glanced at him and frowned in disapproval.

“Your welcome. I suggest you leave or take on another appearance. Professor Dumbledore already knows you’re not Moriarty.” Barty blinks in shock. Hadrian looks away.

“Just get out of here as quickly as possible. This will already draw more people than I’m willing to save you from.” Barty’s lips quirked.

“I can see that.” Dumbledore came over, his expression fierce.

“I suggest, Moriarty, you leave the premises effective immediately. You have one chance to get out of the sight of the Aurors.” Barty bows his head, much better behaved than the first run.

“Thank you. I apologise for this evening.”

“My patience runs thin,” Dumbledore says curtly. Barty disappeared into the shadows and Dumbledore ran a frustrated eye over Hadrian. “Injuries?”

“None sir.” Dumbledore sighs and strokes his beard.

“You have many secrets Mr Potter. Someday I hope you will share.”

Hadrian doesn’t think he ever will, but he nods regardless and Dumbledore pats his shoulder. “Thank you for protecting my students.” He nods again.

The rolls are called and House Heads and Prefects make sure everyone is there. Everyone keeps staring at him and he ignores them in irritation.

The other schools are escorted by Aurors first to the boat and carriage before Hogwarts gradually moves, House by House and escorted by Aurors who, from what he’d heard, would remain on the premises.

The Slytherins returned in silence to the dungeons and discovered the crown on the throne was gone. Hadrian blinks and he hears sharp inhales from around the room.

“Where did it go?” Hadrian asks Draco.

“We don’t chose the King,” Draco responds quietly. “Hogwarts does.”

Ah.

He walks with Draco on his tail and opened his rooms- and Draco physically blanched. There on a stand opposite the doors, was the crown.

Gleaming on a black serpent pedestal- and towering over it-

“Master~” The snake hisses, eyes closed.

He smacks himself in the face.

Chapter Text

Orion observed the papers.

Italian Dark Wizard Organisation Mactator Attacks Hogwarts

The article simply states of a Care of Magical Creatures Professor undertaking the Alias of Nicholas Moriarty being responsible and the sole target of the organisation. The real identity of the imposter was not discovered as the target ran away… blah blah blah.

Witnesses say if one of the Slytherin Students hadn’t taken the preemptive initiative, there would have been a list of casualties and injured.

That student was Hadrian James Potter, who could speak to dragons and called upon the Basilisk.

“He knows too much,” Avery says lowly. “It’s impossible to know the Basilisk was there unless he’d been in the Chamber.”

“Barty is on his way,” Abraxas says, flicking his wrist. “We’ll have our answers any minute now.”

Just as he said, Orion twisted in his chair to see a very tired looking Bartemius Crouch enter the room, looking frazzled and not without bandaged arms.

Everyone was here today. Lucius, Regulus, Sirius, Nagini, Reinhard, Avery, Orion, Abraxas, Thaddeus, Rabastan, Rodolphus and Rhyss and Nagini sat atop the high chair. With Barty here, it concluded the Inner Circle of the Knights of Walpurgis.

Orion sat down into his chair and motioned to the chair two down from Avery. “Barty sit. We have lots to discuss.”

Barty bowed and hurried around before sliding into the seat. “The boy, start with what occurred at the event.”

Barty picked at his bandages and looked none of them in the eye as he cleared his throat. “He was quiet during his morning classes in the lead up to the tournament and a brief interaction between Viktor Krum and himself leads me to believe he has a vendetta against him. The dislike seems to be mutual.” Orion scratches his chin.

Karkaroff was a slimy bastard who had never truly been loyal but he was a terrified rat who didn’t tattletale to others. He knew the Order was still strong enough to march Durmstrang and kill him.

“After that I had to seperate to the stands and the other Champions did well enough but the boy apparated. At fourteenyears old, he apparated to the dragons nest.”

Orion blinks slightly in surprise. His brother had been able to apparate much earlier but due to the negligence on Potters wellbeing and upbringing, no one would know precisely when he’d have begun apparating.

“He could have a teacher,” Avery says and Barty’s gaze flicks up to him and Orion leans on his fist.

“Speak Barty. Do you think he has a teacher?”

“I- I do,” Barty admits, picking at his nails. “After the event, it was dinner time when we all regrouped in the Great Hall. That’s when the wards were breached- and before Dumbledore said a word, he looked right at me. He knew. He threatened me as everyone evacuated. He knew I wasn’t the real Moriarty before I even told him. Told me I didn’t act like him, yet alone look like him.”

Which means that Potter would have had to have been in contact with Moriarty.

“You think Moriarty is the boys teacher?” Thaddeus says quietly. “That’s absurd. Moriarty is a legend in the Dark Arts. If he was going to teach someone, why let it be the Potter boy? Surely someone else would suit better.”

“Who else than the legendary Boy Who Lived?” Reinhard snapped. “He must be powerful. Especially to apparate.”

“And have a pair of balls,” Rabastan mutters. Reinhard silenced his son with a glare and returned an irritated glare at Barty.

“Anything else Barty?”

“Well, when I was duelling against some of the members, and losing,” he mumbles quietly, “the dragons from the tournament plucked them off the floor and then he appeared on the Horntails back and made me fly on it back to Hogsmeade.” He rambled the last part and the whole room pauses to stare at a fidgeting Barty.

“I think he’s finally gone insane,” Avery muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Orion thought back to his brothers painting and the dragon and the moon- and sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Surprisingly, I believe him. What else to report Barty?” An elf handed him a drink and he murmured a thanks.

“Dumbledore insists on talking to him at every chance, the boy hardly seems to mind either,” he admits. “He barely tries in class and animals seem to actively avoid him. I have yet to figure out why.” Barty swallows and looks away and Thaddeus orders curtly,

“Spit it out Barty. Your not our spy to withhold information.” The man seemed to shrink and then said quietly,

“He can see Our Lord in the shadows.” Orion chokes on the drink he’d just picked up and he watched Avery do the same. He picks up a napkin quickly and coughs it out quickly.

A surprised Nagini appeared and curled up the table leg onto the table and lifted her head.

“He can see, Riddle?” Abraxas wondered aloud. The snake hissed at Barty.

“His magic is constantly alert when I was around and he’d sometimes glance at my shadow. It took me a long time to realise he wasn’t just watching my movements- but the shadow.”

Orion clasped his hands together on his lap, furrowing his brow.

It was impossible.

Even Orion struggled on the best of days to see Riddles influence on them. The way he listens through everything- through them. Through their links.

The link isn’t even… established, through things like physical adaptions or enforced magical links. It just… is made and like a muscle, needs exercise. It was a surprising light magic that was utilised well.

The shadow was a darker adaption but nevertheless.

“Could it have been from the incident as a baby?” Reinhard suggests. The room took on a more contemplative tune, rather than the anxious unknowing. But he meets Thaddeus’s eyes.

The magic was made on positive enforcement. Fear didn’t work- hate certainly didn’t so therefore- nothing should have been made.

“Maybe it’s not a link and he’s just become more aware,” Thaddeus adds to the mix, turning to Orion and Avery. “Didn’t you both go to his house? What did you find?”

Orion and Avery share a look before Orion turns to Nagini and Riddles red eyes watch them.

“He’s living in Hades safe-house.” Nagini hisses- and Tom is not happy that a boy of barely fourteen has found the house before them. “It’s got his paintings, sculptures, a lot of them, on the third floor but there’s almost nothing there of the boys.”

“We reasoned,” Avery adds, “that either he did his own art too and we didn’t notice, or he stowed them elsewhere.” Nagini surveys them both. “Dracula lives in his house too, or so the rumours go.”

He sees something click in Riddles gaze.

His brother had told him once that Tom and himself had a mild run-in with Count De-Ville, a long, long time ago. He later revealed that Count De-Ville had been Dracula.

Nagini looked down the passageway to the painting before surveying the table.

Potter was becoming more and more elusive- and then Abraxas proposed an excellent idea.

“Lucius’s son is friends with Potter, we have every reason to invite him to the Christmas Party.”

“Fleamont might want him for Christmas,” Reinhard points out.

“I don’t think he cares,” Orion responds with a roll of his eyes, “He’s almost on his deathbed, floundering around France as I heard last. Unless I heard incorrectly.” He glances at Regulus who nods firmly,

“Currently in Toulouse, France.” Sirius clears his throat and everyone turns to look at him.

“I have a note to add about Potter.” His son glances at him for approval before saying, “I spoke with Hayes and he says the boys an animagus.”

“Well Animagi can be born,” Thaddeus points out. “Theodore and Hayes all prove this. James was an Animagi, wasn’t he?”

“He was,” Sirius admits.

“Did he say what he was?” Orion asks curiously, once more thinking of the dragon.

“He’s revealed fangs and cat eyes, so we’re assuming along the feline line.”

“That makes zero sense genetically,” Avery points out. “James was a stag. That’s as far away as you can get from the felidae family. There was no previous Animagi from the Potter family and Lily Potter is from a muggle line.”

“He can’t have done the ritual,” Sirius points out, “it takes a minimum of two years and the tomes are locked up tight in Hogwarts. It doesn’t check out.” Orion strokes his chin in frustration.

“Abraxas, get Draco to invite him to the Christmas party,” Orion orders. “We need to make sure he comes. That way we can meet him in person. I doubt Reinhard got anything from their brief interaction.”

The man shakes his head and Abraxas nods.

“Will do. How do we test what he is?”

“I have a feeling, somebody else, will be able to…” he looks at Riddle and the snakes tongue flickers in and out, eyes sharp and watching. “Regardless, any successful efforts into returning our Lord to his previous state Rabastan?”

“No sir, no tomes have mentioned one returning from soul and body split state.” Orion sighs in frustration. Hadrian would have known something, would have been able to find something to aid them. It frustrates him greatly how incompetent they are without their leaders.

Then again perhaps that is why they are their leaders in the first place.

They talk about support and plans for a while longer before splitting off and Nagini hisses at him to follow so he splits away down the hallway towards Riddles private room.

When he enters, on his bed, Riddle sat, his skin pale, his body sickly and hair plastered to his face with sweat. Nagini returned to him and Orion sat down beside him on the chair, listening to the sound of the subdued breathing. Nagini curled up on his chest and then Riddles eyes opened, barely, and turned to face him.

“I apologise on the lack of progress,” he says quietly, clasping his hands together. Riddle rasps,

“It’s to be expected.” To be in this state and still have so much magical capacity… how frightening. It’s how Riddle was able to talk, using magic to force his body to work and comply with his commands. Otherwise it was easier to reside in the shadows. “The safe-house, show me.”

So Orion clasped Riddles hands- and took him into his mindscape where the house was replicated. They stood in the art room once more and Riddles conscious mind looked just as sickly as his real body.

“There’s no personal paintings,” Tom notes immediately. “Apart from Ekkathion.” They simultaneously glance at the painting.

“None of us, you mean.” Tom hums in agreement. “I did notice that. But Hades did prefer to paint landscapes and scenes rather than people.” Tom glances at the sculptures of the people and walks closer, examining them. Orion glances around one last time, perhaps he’d missed something but if he’d overlooked anything it wouldn’t be in here.

“Are these people familiar to you?” Tom asks and Orion shakes his head.

“It was a dead end.” Tom glances back around- looking at all the places.

“I’ve never seen half of these places before. Have you?” Orion knows a few of them but likewise- is unfamiliar with quite a few. There was a rocky cliff, a forest clearing with a tent, a house in the muggle world- the paint of which had been scraped and had a few holes in it. Clearly abused and been careless with.

There were a few others, like mountains and a lake- there was a white dragon in gringotts, breathing fire.

“Most of them are unfamiliar.”

“Hmm. That’s a shame.” Tom runs a hand over Ekkathion. “The felidae family you say?” He nods at Tom.

“I can request more information at a later date.” Tom merely nods slowly.

“Alright.” Tom glances once more around. “I want you to look into Nicholas Moriarty. If he knows about the Potter boy, I want you to find him. He may also be able to know how to help me. Do it covertly.” Orion bows.

“I shall do so.”

“Thank you, Orion.” Tom says, gazing into the distance again and Orion knew time drew thin. So he withdrew with a curt nod and Toms grip was limp in his hand. He had fallen asleep. He gazes over the damage the curse had done and stands.

If Hades had been here he’d have been able to heal him somehow.

Chapter Text

He feels a finger brush his face and slowly opens his eyes. Dark brown eyes scan his face and Tom smirks at him. That signature face that he was known for and Hadrian rolls his eyes, rolling away.

“Oh come on, can’t handle my handsomeness?” Tom purrs, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him back. Hadrian groans, pushing Toms face away.

“I can’t handle your crap this early in the morning,” he croaks. It doesn’t stop Tom from attempting to bite his fingers before he glances around the Slytherin dorm and finds himself face to face with Tom. Those haunting eyes and beautiful face- as if sculpted from marble-

Yet lips still manage to sneak their morning kiss.

“Still can’t handle me?” Tom teases and Hadrian shoved a hand between their faces, rolling over Tom in an attempt to get away. Tom merely chuckles and pulls him close again.

“That isn’t what I said,” Hadrian groans. “Go away…”

“Never,” Tom laughs.

“We’ll be late for class,” he grumbles. “Dumbledore will be mad.” Tom snorts.

“Let him be mad. I don’t think he’s going to be too upset considering your top notch grades.” Hadrian wants to yank Toms hair out but he opts for rolling violently onto the floor.

“You’re ruining my image,” he complains. Tom leans on the edge of the bed, looking extremely amused.

“Says the man half naked on the floor.” Hadrian flipped him off and stood up, brushing off his clothes. He cracks his back and with a sigh, trudges for the closet, rubbing his eyes. “How hard have you been working?” Tom asks and he glances back at the squinting man.

“Not too hard, why?”

“It’s Saturday.” Hadrian frowns and spells a wandless tempus and discovers it is indeed. So with a groan, he shoved his clothes back in the closet. “You’ve been overworking yourself again.” Tom says with blatant disapproval. Hadrian returned to the bed and Tom held his arms open as he flopped down.

“I have not,” he grumbles into Toms chest as Tom puts the covers back around them.

“Hmm. I choose to not believe you this time.”

“Screw off.” Tom smirks and kisses his forehead.

“You can screw me anytime.”

“Gross,” he groans. “You ail me.”

“I have a cure-”

“Gods I can’t stand you,” Hadrian grumbled, pulling him closer at the same time. Tom huffs, holding him close and Hadrian dozes away again, his head limp against Tom’s chest.

It’s not long before Tom begins carding his fingers through Hadrian’s long hair. He didn’t grow it out for any specific reason- he just perhaps wanted a change. To stop looking like his father. To stop looking like a boy and more like a man. More like the wizards of old with long hair, like Merlin in his younger years or even Dumbledore too.

“You have to stay with me,” Tom murmurs.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t love anyone else.”

“What are you talking about you idiot.”

“Even in another life.”

“You sound like an idiot.”

Tom releases a long breath before humming something under his breath.

“Go back to sleep then.”

“I was trying,” Hadrian mutters but he falls asleep again regardless. Tom was the comfiest thing in the whole planet. Everyone should have a Tom-

Hadrian opens an eye, hugging something scaly and very- not Tom.

~Master~ The basilisk hisses and Hadrian wants to slap himself in the face. Just kill him now.

~I thought I told you to go back to the chamber?~ He hisses in frustration, rolling over to stare at the basilisk. The thing snuck a glance and seemed to delight in the fact he didn’t turn to stone immediately.

~It’s closed~ Hadrian wants to just simply pass away. Promptly and quickly. Unfortunately, he has people to deal with.

After Draco had passed out upon seeing the Basilisk, Hadrian had dragged him back to his room and then had to deal with the crown and quickly hidden it.

He gets changed quickly, making sure to check the date and its indeed a Saturday. He stares at the time and half expects Tom to tell him he’s been overworking again. But he glances back at an empty bed and curses himself for his foolishness.

He leaves for the common room which is full of students, some still partly in pyjamas. They go quiet when he arrives- and promptly scream when the basilisk slithers out behind him.

Hadrian plugs his ears with his fingers and hisses at the basilisk to follow him. He’s undeniably tempted to let the basilisk turn Filch turn into stone or eat him- but he lets the basilisk eat Ms Norris instead as they move to the bathroom and he yawns outside the door, stretching his back before pushing it open-

“May I know why there is a basilisk in my school?” A voice inquires. He blinks and glances up while the basilisk closes it’s eyes.

“She’s harmless professor,” he replies with another yawn, jerking a thumb at the overgrown slug. “I should have slept in. I’m taking her back to where she belongs.” Dumbledore inspects the door Hadrian had been about to enter and it’s by then he remembers it’s a girls bathroom.

Dumbledore raises an eyebrow and Hadrian gives him a look.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t know about the Chamber of Secrets?”

“I would like to find out,” Dumbledore responds curiously. Hadrian shrugs, walking through and Dumbledore follows. There’s nobody in it. Not even a Myrtle but Hadrian can firmly say he does NOT miss her. At all. Never.

He opens it with a lazy hiss and the sink falls away to reveal the yawning pit. He orders in some stairs and lazily walks down to the passageway where bones lie around.

“Are we sure this isn’t dangerous?” Dumbledore enquires, following Hadrian who is currently scratching his hair.

“I’m certain professor,” Hadrian responds. “She listens to everything I say.” For good reason.

They arrive at the large chamber with the face of Salazar Slytherin and the basilisk slithered into the depths of the water, rubbing off any dirt and grime between her scales.

“Does she go back to Salazars time?” Dumbledore inquires. Hadrian shakes his head.

“No there was other basilisks, she’s like sixty or something.” Hadrian shakes his legs to try and wake himself up and get his mind off of Tom.

“That is quite old for a basilisk no?”

“I think so,” he replies with a shrug. “I think she has a few more years left.”

~Master when can I go out again?~ She hisses.

~I’ll let you out in the second task.~ The basilisk hisses in delight. ~You can swim right?~ The snake lifts it’s head in offence.

~I am an excellent swimmer Master~ Hadrian rolls his eyes and turns to Dumbledore conspiratorially.

“She’s being sassy.” Dumbledore chuckles and looks around the place.

“It’s a very unique place, can it be accessed by normal means?”

“No, you have to be a parseltongue. Salazar was very picky about those things.”

“I think Hadrian Black was a parseltongue, I wonder if he came down here?”

“Everyone keeps mentioning him,” Hadrian mumbled. He wasn’t even aware he left such a strong mark on everybody. It stunned him every time they mentioned or revered him.

What would their reactions be when they realise Hadrian Black is now a kid their age and was first and foremost this kid?

He chews on his lip as he tries to distract himself.

Dumbledore glances at him and back at the basilisk, the only thing giving away its location the ripple of the shallow water. “Yes well, he was a very influential figure and is responsible for many a change.”

“How come normal people don’t know about him?”

“They do,” Dumbledore hedges. “They’re just more wary of who they say it to. Mr Black had many enemies.”

I know I did. I just didn’t realise I had this many allies too.

Hadrian remains quiet and Dumbledore inquires politely, “You seem to have a lot on your mind.”

“I do,” he replies with a sigh. “I do…” He looks away from Dumbledore. He knows everything he says will somehow find its way back to Tom… “Was Mr Black your ally Dumbledore?” Dumbledore sighs.

“Mr Potter… he was more than just an ally. A lot more.” Hadrian glances around and nods slowly. “May I ask if you can control the basilisk properly?” Hadrian yawns and nods.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “You have to let her stay though. She’ll be very useful in the future.” He scratches his chin and glances at Dumbledore who eyes him and then nods slowly.

“I shall consider it.” Hadrian shrugs. If that was the best he was going to get…

“Come on sir, you can’t get out without me and frankly, I’m starving.” Dumbledore laughs and they walk out and up the stairs before exiting the bathroom and walk down to the hall at a leisurely pace.

He glances at his Headmaster who seems very relaxed after coming face to face with the Basilisk.

“Is it because of Fawkes?” Hadrian asks suddenly and Dumbledores blue eyes blink at him for a moment.

“Pardon?”

“That you weren’t scared. I could have killed you down there. All she had to do was open her eyes.” Dumbledores face became amused.

“Mr Potter, if I thought for even a moment that you were going to attempt to harm me, I wouldn’t have ever gone near you with the basilisk behind you.” Hadrian cocks his head and shrugs as they walk into the great hall. “Have a good morning Mr Potter.”

Hadrian leaves for the Slytherin table and Draco looks at him sharply-

“The basilisk was in your room-”

“You could have killed us-” Hadrian silently mocked all the complaints that came his way.

“Where did the crown go?” Parkinson asks. He glances at her and shrugs. Draco keeps silent.

“No clue. You tell me. I wouldn’t be surprised if you stole it Ms Parkinson.” The girl flew into a rage immediately.

“How dare you accuse me of such insolent behaviour!”

“Insolent indeed,” he leans his chin on his cheek. “Do you have something to accuse me of Ms Parkinson.”

“Yes,” she spat. “You put your name into the Goblet of Fire, because you couldn’t enter Hogwarts because your a liar, a killer- a bloody crazed maniac-”

“Are you done?” He asks boredly, dragging bacon and eggs to his plate. “If your going to accuse me of something, at least accuse me of something that makes sense Ms Parkinson.” She scowls at him and he turns to Draco. “Lizzies back in her home.” Draco sent him an incredulous look.

“The Basilisk? You called it Lizzy?”

“Short for lizard,” he says dead serious. “I was considering Sluggy but she’ll get offended.” Draco gave him a stare that could kill someone and then sighed and stared at his own food.

“I thought it was cool,” Theodore says with a shrug.

“Whatever,” Draco grumbles. “By the way are you free for Christmas?” He cocks his head and thinks carefully.

“On Christmas Day or just the holidays?”

“The Day.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. Would Edwin be expecting him?

He moves the food around on his plate in thought before saying, “I’ll have to see…” There were hoots and flutter of wings and Hedwig flew in, talons secured around a few notes- one of them bright red.

She drops in front of him, passing him the urgent letter rather quickly with her beak.

He breaks the seal, concern worming through him slowly.

Master, this servant has been unable to protect the premises.

There was a break in and while I cannot remember their faces, I briefly remember them talking about you. Nothing that I know of has been taken. But it would be in your best interests to return and look for yourself.

He’s half certain he’s stopped breathing and tears the papers to shreds, heart hammering.

Someone found his safe house? I mean- it was a manner of time but how had they discovered the house? It wasn’t outwardly announced- but it would only take some digging. But who? Who? If they’d been talking about Potter and not him…

He grabs the other letter.

We haven’t spoken in a while old friend. I have many new discoveries to tell you about. Perhaps you can spare this old man the time of day and visit me.

Hadrian Black.

-Your Loyal Servant

Hadrian taps his finger against the paper in concern. Was it Count De Ville? No, he never lowered himself enough to outright call himself a servant.

So who…

He pauses. Then sets the paper on fire.

Gellert Grindelwald. The bastard wasn’t dead, just rotting away in a forgotten prison. How had he managed to get a note to him? How did he know?

Wait- if Barty was gone- if they didn’t put his name in the Goblet this time-

If everyone thought he was dead or kidnapped-

Who put his name in the Goblet?

“I take it it’s not good news,” Hayes asks slowly.

Hadrian glances at the last letter he’d received and wondered if he really did want to answer it. He flips it over and to his surprise- there’s Gringotts on the back.

He snaps it open and frowns deeply.

Our dearest condolences Mr Potter,

Fleamont Potter has tragically passed away in France this evening. As saddening as this news is, congratulations on becoming the Lord of House Potter.

“What?” He mutters, brow furrowed.

“What is it?” Draco asks, peering over his shoulder.

“Grandfather… died…” He stares at the paper in his hand. That… how could he just- pass away? After living for so long, how could he just pass away?

That didn’t- why was he in France to begin with? He’d been with Fleamont with Tom on occasion. Whether they studied or duelled together, he was a good potioneer master and sometimes helped them out on occasion.

Fleamont wasn’t one to waste time, no matter how old he’d been, on holiday in France. Why didn’t he go looking for Hadrian when he was kidnapped?

How had he passed away- it made no sense.

“I’m- I’m sorry Hadrian.”

Wait- so he wouldn’t get to talk to Fleamont ever again? Why- why hadn’t he found out it was his grandfather that had taken care of him sooner? He would have gone back! He wasn’t living with Dursley’s- he would have gone back-

Draco put a hand on his shoulder.

Gringotts was the one to tell him. Because Gringotts kept tabs on this- better than even the Ministry- did he die in the muggle world? Is that why he hadn’t known about it sooner? If he travelled via airplane it would have been possible for the Ministry to know-

His vision has suddenly become blurry and he discovers he’s almost crying. He grits his teeth and looks at the ceiling. He inhales deeply, stands and leaves.

He walks swiftly through Hogwarts, to the one eyed witch- slips in and rushes down the tunnel, a lumos lighting his way.

None of this makes sense. Someone breaks into his safe house, Fleamont dies and Grindelwald manages to make contact with him? Voldemort hasn’t killed him yet but Grindelwald should be dead.

He erupts from the cellar and slips through the shadows, catching the shop owner unawares as he arrives in Hogsmeade- runs to the shrieking shack and then apparates outside his front door and summons the keys before walking in to see Edwin nursing his head with an icepack on the couch. He looks terrible- absolutely devoid of blood.

His skin was greying and his eyes slightly unfocused.

He does a quick perimeter check with his magic but no one was inside. He slams the door shut, locks it and rushes over to Edwin.

“Edwin- Edwin is everything okay.” The vampire winces as he focuses, reaching out to Hadrian.

“Master your supposed to be at school,” he croaks. Hadrian grabs his chin, staring into those faded eyes.

“Your supposed to be semi-alive. Where’s Dracula?” He demands, grabbing his wand and cutting his palm lightly with diffindo and the vampire seems to focus, eyes trailing to his hand.

“He left for Knockturn…” He shoves the ribbing between his index finger and thumb into Edwins hand- one because there’s less blood flow there so Edwin will have to physically attempt to eat and secondly- so he doesn’t absolute drain Hadrians system.

“Seriously, I leave you for a few weeks and you almost die on me.” Edwin glances at him, a hand lightly grabbing his wrist and Hadrian does his best to ignore the faint pain from the two large fangs digging into his hand.

It wasn’t his fault that he was semi-shifted on the couch, scales along his arms and face, two horns semi sprouting and his eyes slitted.

He was furious- as a dragon. His treasure trove had been attacked and his cute little vampire almost murdered.

“I can’t die master,” Edwin mumbles around his hand. He was still looking pale though and it was taking to long. The vampire seemed to be dazing in and out, looking spacey and neglected.

“Jesus Christ,” he growls, unbuttoning the top of his shirt and slipping off the shirt. “Just do it properly this time. You mess up and-” he cuts off as Edwin sank his teeth into his neck and ignored the hands on his hips.

It was fucking infuriating being physically fourteen and mentally thirty- forty or whatever. He lost count.

But it doesn’t matter. He’d wait for Tom because it was only Tom.

Edwin leans back, lips stained red again and shook his head to focus- to try and remember. Hopefully what was in Hadrians blood would replace whatever damage the oblivion had done.

“Orion,” the Vampire suddenly blurts. “It was Orion Black. They both went up to the top floor. To your studio.” The Vampire narrows his eyes suddenly. “Master your supposed to be at the tournament-” he blocks his nagging with his hand.

“You are not my nanny shut up.” He furrows his brow. Orion Black… He’d be at Abraxas’s party. In fact- they’d all be there, won’t they? They always attend, every year, without fail. Tom won’t be there- but his brother- his brother will be.

“Are you angry Master?”

“At you? No. Orion is too powerful for you.”

“He came with someone else.”

“Aiden I bet.” The vampire nods sagely.

“Mr Avery yes. That was him.” He groans, standing up and walking to the sink to wash the blood from his hand and neck. “Do you need me to get the Count to…” Hadrian shakes his head.

“The Count already knows too much. I want him kept far away from this stuff Edwin.” The vampire comes around lean against the counter tops.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t-”

“Edwin don’t apologise. I’m going to check they didn’t take anything and if they didn’t, it’s fine.” He dries his hands and walks up the stairs to evaluate the studio and studies it meticulously. Everything was as it had previously been.

Did they come here just to examine-

It made no sense. Why not take one of the paintings? Were they waiting on Tom to make a decision-

He needs to hire more warders to secure the premises. But that falls second to Fleamont. How can he apparate to France…

He can’t, not really.

There’s no time either-

Yet. The Christmas Holidays were a perfect time but then he skips Orion-

Should he inform Dumbledore that Grindelwald was able to communicate-

Why was the future changing so much?

He grits his teeth in frustration, storming back down the stairs.

“Hire some people from the underground to ward this place Edwin. Only trustees.”

“Yes sir.” He slams out the door and apparates back to the shrieking shack, returns to hogsmeade- rushes back through the tunnels and then sticks in the shadows to get to his room and fixes up his clothes and wraps his hand so it heals quickly.

Did he need to become Moriarty for a bit to gain information?

He’s changed the future too much…

But he can’t apparate-

So he’s going to have to fly.

There’s a knock on the door. “Hadrian? Are you okay?” He clenches his fist.

“I’m fine.”

“We’re going to play some quidditch if you want to join?” Oh…

He glances over his shoulder.

Quidditch. He hadn’t played in so long…

How rusty was he?

“I’ll pass today Draco.”

“Okay… maybe another time?”

“Yeah…” He stares at the desk and realises he has a few letters to write. He needs to order an investigation into Fleamont death, he needs to send someone to Grindelwalds position to check if he’s still there and he needs to organise a meeting to discuss things with the Underground.

He sits at the desk and get’s to work, ignoring Toms nagging voice in the back of his head.

Chapter Text

He walks the length of the lake early in the morning, a habit he hadn’t been able to get rid of. The shore was misting over as the temperatures drop to winter and Hadrian is still out there in a black dress shirt and pants with boots.

He prides himself on his sense of style as he had been horrified in his late thirties originally to remember his clothing choices when he looked into photos.

He lets out a deep breath and the basilisk swims in the lake. Dawn was beginning to break and filtered poorly through the fog.

Hedwig is watching him from the trees and Hadrian glances around before summoning a cigarette and grabs his wand.

He takes the thing and taps his wand to the end of it and it slowly begins to flicker before he feels it warm in his mouth.

He inhales and lets the embers and smoke sink into his lungs and has the moderate urge to spew fire as he does when he shifts. Except, his human body can’t do that so he doesn’t bother.

He lets smoke trail from his lips and watches it merge with the fog, only thickening the blanket that kept him invisible from prying eyes.

Lizzie was enjoying her freedom very very much, swimming and catching a few fish in the process. Water seemed to act like a mirror did and paralysed them but didn’t kill them. Which meant for the first time in a long time- she had something proper to eat.

He wands down the lake shore for a bit more, observing the ripples in the lake from the Basilisk following him. He walks as far as he can around the lake, even as the fog fades and the Basilisk becomes lazy in her movements, swaying from side to side, following his protection he offered from the wizards who’d have her killed.

He stops in a cove with a deep drop into the water and drops the cigarette amongst the stones, listening to them crackle before he carefully selects a smooth stone and skips it over the top of the water. Two, then five, then three- then- a sharp hiss as the stone collides with Lizzies eye.

“Massster that hurt.” He sighs, walking to the lakes edge and she gently put her face in his hands before offering him a glance at a slightly cut eye. He heals it quietly. He checks her scales while he’s at it.

“Hadrian, we’ve been looking for you.” The basilisk closed her eyes, withdrawing and he glances over his shoulders to see Theodore, Hayes, Draco and Blaise all walking towards him. “Is everything okay?” Draco asks cautiously, observing the basilisk who sniffs them, her tongue flicking in and out.

“Yeah, I was just taking her fishing.” Theodore walks up briskly to it and pets the basilisks scale. She hisses,

“I like thisss one massster.” Theodore glances at him imploringly and he says quietly,

“She likes you. His name is Theodore.” She hisses his name,

“Theodore…”

“That was your name, by the way,” he tells Theodore. The boy turns curious eyes up to the Basilisk. Clearly curious to learn parseltongue.

“How do I pronounce that?”

“At the forefront of your mouth, short and sharp- Theo,”

“Tha-” Theodore begins.

“More hiss, use your teeth as well.”

“Theo.”

“He speaks!” The basilisk hisses.

“He’s trying to,” Hadrian corrects. “And now move it to your nose a bit more, it sounds weird, but more of a nasal hiss. -dore.”

“Do-or-”

“Further up-”

“Dore.” Theodores brow was scrunched in deep thought, trying to process the words coming out of his mouth.

“Now put it together. Theodore.”

“Theodore.” The Basilisk hisses in delight.

“Perfect. Now you can speak your name to her when she can’t look at you.”

“Theodore,” the boy repeats, petting the Basilisks scales. “That’s awesome.” Hadrian turns to the Basilisk.

“Memorissse hisss sssmell ssso you can recognissse him in the future.” The Basilisks tongue flickers in and out for a minute before bobbing her head. He lowered his head to a quarter down here body from her head and listened to a heart beating strongly. Good. There seemed to be no abnormalities there. He rubs her stomach scales and pets her, letting go. “Go ssswim while I talk.” She slithers backwards into the waves, turning and disappearing into the lake.

“I’m never going swimming in there,” Draco mumbles. Hadrian pulls at his sleeves and gives Draco a tired smile.

“She can’t come out without me so I wouldn’t worry. There’s worse things in this lake aside from basilisks.”

“Like the squid?” Hayes mentions.

“Like mermen. The type that drown you.” The group paled a bit and he gives them a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry though, Dumbledore signed a pact to keep us from harm.”

Draco eyes the water, not reassured at all. “School breaks in a few weeks, do you have anywhere to go?”

“Well, I mean I have my house in the muggle world-”

“Where you won’t be alone,” Hayes interrupts and he gazes at his great nephew of some description.

“Well I’m not alone,” he mutters.

“Servants don’t count,” Theodore points at him.

“Stop reading over my shoulder,” he replies saltily. Theodore only grins unnervingly.

“Do you have somewhere to stay with family?” Draco asks.

“No,” he mumbles, kicking stones underneath his shoes. He eyes a very flat stone and picks it up, rubbing a thumb at it. “Hayes, do you want to know something interesting?”

“Mhm, I suppose so.” He rubs a thumb over the edge of the stone, staring at the abysmal grey colour, the roughly smooth texture of the stone.

“Your grandfather invaded and searched my property yesterday,” he turns slitted eyes on Hayes who immediately backs up a bit, “and hurt a friend of mine to the point of near death.”

Hayes looked deeply uneasy for a moment, eyes flicking to Hadrians wand attached to his thigh. “Then I have to apologise, but I cannot speak for his actions Hadrian. I can only try to remedy it.” He glances at the rock in his hand with a frown, holding it in his hand for a moment.

“I know you message your father,” Hadrian adds, flipping the stone in his hand, “I want you to get him to tell Orion this- or even get Arcturus to relay the message. If I find even a single strand of hair has found itself on my property-” he holds up the flat stone, turning to Hayes with cold eyes. “- this is what’s going to happen to him.” He hurls the stone across the water- and the moment it came in contact with the water, it exploded violently, bursting into the air and the shockwave reached them in a moment, showering the trees with mist and water. He picks up another flat stone, the edges a bit cracked and a small indent in the middle.

He heard shouting faintly in the distance and Lizzie popped up, looking dizzy.

“Massster what wasss that?”

“That, wasss your massster getting angry.”

“Who daresss anger you massster?” She hisses angrily, tail lashes furiously.

“If he dares anger me again, I’ll let you eat him.” She hisses in pleasure before easing back off into the water. He skips the pebble again and enjoys watching them all flinch slightly.

He doesn’t bother picking up another. He’s never been able to beat seven- not without magical aid.

“Are we clear Mr Black?”

“Very,” Hayes says flatly. Wise. Hadrian returns his attention to the lake, eyeing the water like it had somehow betrayed him.

“Good,” he says simply. “Can I also be very clear, Theodore- you do not lie to me?”

“I have never lied,” Theodore says calmly.

“You just did.” Hadrian eyes over his shoulder lazily. Watching a boy with narrowed black eyes. Then he raised a brow. “Thaddeus Nott holds reign over the throne does he?”

Thaddeus seemed to grimace a bit.

“That’s amusing, I didn’t realise your father was the Dark Lord himself.” Hadrian pulled out his wand and another cigarette, getting a furious headache already. He’s surrounded by morons who can’t even realise when to lie and when to tell the truth. He allows smoke to drift into the sky. “I want to make it really clear, my goal here isn’t to make friends. It’s to get out of this tournament unscathed, find the perpetrator and execute them. That’s what I’m here for. I’ll also be honest and tell you all that I intentionally ran away from the train and refused to come to Hogwarts altogether. For reasons maybe you’ll comprehend in the future. You can all tell your parents that and we’ll see how the inner circle reacts, shall we?” The group seemed to have paled drastically. “I like Zabini though,” he pats the boys shoulder. “The only one who hasn’t lied to me and his family members haven’t tried to kill me yet.”

Zabini glanced at him and Hadrian lets go, observing the rest of the group.

“How do you know?” Draco asks suddenly, wringing his fingers rather violently.

“Darling, I knew before I even came here. It’s not called the Underground for nothing.”

“So you are affiliated with the underground?” Theodore asks with timid excitement. As if he’s not sure if it’s quite the right time to be excited yet.

“You’re looking at one of the executives,” he replies calmly. Knowing they wouldn’t believe it. Hayes raises a brow.

“Potter this joke has gone too far-”

“Nicholas Moriarty’s identity has never been truly discovered,” he interrupts, kicking the stones. “Do you maybe think it’s not because he’s so good at hiding it- but because he’s actually played by different people?”

Zabini inhaled sharply. “You don’t mean your the one currently playing Nicholas Moriarty? But you don’t look…”

“I can play whoever I want Zabini,” he says dead seriously. “I could even play your dead Hades if I really wanted to.” The group all stared at him. “I could be The Dark Lord himself, I could turn into fucking Dumbledore, the minister, I could turn into you right now. Does it make a difference whose form I take so long as I know how to play it?”

“Turn into Moriarty,” Hayes growls lowly. “If you really can do it, turn into Moriarty.”

Hadrian bows at the waist, putting the wand to his temple and dragged out the memories of looking at himself, reflections, pen sieves, paintings-

It didn’t take long and of course it was old magic, temporary. Unlike if he were to find his patronus.

He stands much taller than them now and the group seemed to collectively take a step back.

He eyes Hayes with sharp eyes. Harry’s sharp green eyes. His voice sounds different when he speaks- older. Deeper and rougher than that boy voice he’s been using. “Do you believe me now Hayes?” The scar that worked down the side of his face seemed to intimidate him. The old scars and the scruffy short beard.

The boy seemed to have stopped breathing altogether. Stopped working. He was staring at Hadrian like he was the devil himself and he scoffs, returning to normal and Zabini reached out- “Please teach me how to do that,” the boy breathes, his eyes sparkly and bright. Amazed, rather than intimidated.

“Sure.” He left a dysfunction Hayes, Draco and Theodore behind as he walked with Zabini. “It is only temporary though and it’s rather dangerous.”

“But it’s such a useful skill,” Zabini points out. “Please teach me.”

“I will,” he says with a sigh. “I promise but not today Blaise. I’m busy trying to figure something out.” Zabini glances over his shoulder.

“I could see that. You went down hard on them.”

“Their parents are part of the Knights of Walpurgis. Am I supposed to ignore that?”

“I dunno, kinda?” He ignores Zabini for a minute, working his lip.

“I want to ask you Blaise,” he says at least, crushing the cigarette in his hand. “If you knew, there were people befriending you because you are the boy famed for taking down the most powerful wizard of all time… would they truly be your friends?”

Zabini glanced at him and focused on the path ahead.

“I think, perhaps, over time they could learn to be.” But they’re all children. I’m older than all of you- and even older than Tom. I can’t help you.

“Do you want me to defeat him?” Hadrian asks.

“The Dark Lord?” Blaise clarifies. He nods and Blaise’s expression turned thoughtful. “From the things I’ve personally heard about him… not really. I mean, I know that he allegedly killed your parents and a lot of other people- but it’s probably on par with the ministries murder streak. The Dark Lord wasn’t always evil, especially when Hades was around.”

Hadrian nods curtly.

“I understand, a little bit.” Blaise pats his back.

“They might talk to their parents Hadrian but they’re all pretty good guys. Besides if you keep teasing Parkinson I’m sure they’ll love you.”

“I don’t want them to love me,” he replies bitterly. “I’ll catch you later Zabini.” The boy nods, lingering at the edge of the forest while he returns to his room, sitting down on the edge of his bed and rubbing his face into his hands.

He knows they’ll all contact their parents tonight- or maybe Draco won’t. Or he’ll be forced to. Out of them all, he trusts Draco the most. He never meant for any harm to befall Hadrian. It wasn’t his fault.

He snarls, digging his claws into the wood.

It’s not his fault he’s angry. It’s not his fault he’s died too many times to count. It’s not his fault he had to part with Tom. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t know if he’s a horcrux or not. It’s not his fault that he can’t see Tom yet. It’s not his fault he hurt Hayes feelings- it’s not his fault if he had to warn his brother rather crudely. It’s not his fault he feels like he wants to gauge out his eyes- it’s not his fault he feels like he’s tearing apart. It’s not his fault the house was broken into. It’s not his fault Fleamont is dead- it’s not his fault he couldn’t control his death as Hades better. It’s not his fault he’s not worthy to be in Hogwarts again-

It’s not his fault-

It’s not his fault-

It’s not his fault-

It’s not his fault-

It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault-I t’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault- It’s not his fault-

He wants to pull out his hair, he wants to lean backwards and have Tom there waiting for a hug. He wants to claw out his scales on his arms-

So he does. It’s so easy- to dig a sharp claw into human flesh and pry out a single black scale. It was blissfully painful and Hadrian frantically pulls them out, spatters of blood and scales covering the floor.

His arm was screaming in agony, blood running in deep rivulets down his arm and yet Hadrian could only laugh and continue pulling them out.

Ah he’s so fucked.

Chapter Text

By the time he’d clawed out his scales, he had calmed down and then panicked all over again. His beautiful scales, on the floor and dull. His scales weren’t as shiny as they used to be when he was actually happy.

He hears a knock on the door and he can only just see a letter is snuck under the door- He flicks his wrist and the letter comes flying forward and opens it.

Hey kid- it’s your favourite teacher, we need to talk. Now.

He wants to tear the door off of his hinges now, to reveal Barty but he won’t. Instead the door flings open and Barty stumbles through the piano room to the bedroom, covered in Slytherin robes. Borrowed- and too big.

Hadrians gaze focuses on Toms robes and has to glance back up at Barty’s eyes-

Except they weren’t Barty’s.

They were red.

They were red.

They were red-

Barty’s gaze- but it wasn’t really his, dropped down to view the scattered black scales and those red eyes widened, before focusing on brutalised arms.

Hadrian was still staring directly into Toms eyes and he couldn’t breathe. Would he try and kill Hadrian- or would Tom see him differently.

“Are you scared of me?” The voice asks quietly. So different from Voldemorts voice. Gentle, caressing, disarming. It’s not Tom’s voice- but it’s so close. It’s still Barty’s vocals. But his mannerism of speaking is different. It’s Barty’s body, but the brain using it is different.

“That depends entirely on if your here to kill me,” he says lowly. “But I doubt Barty’s magic capacity is high enough for that.” The body chuckles.

“Yes, I would have to agree.” He eyes him and Barty holds out a hand. “Pass me your arm.”

“If you need my blood I’m not giving it.”

“If I needed your blood,” Tom retorted, “I’d scrape it off of the floor. Pass me your arm.” His heart ached- so he listened and there was suddenly a bandage wrapping tightly around the wound, compressing the injuries. “Are you a snake animagi? I heard you could speak to Basilisks.”

“I know you speak Parseltongue too,” Hadrian says lowly. Tom glances at him, smirking a bit,

“Good boy.” Hadrian blinks, wondering where the hell that came from and gave Tom a quizzical look while he wrapped his arm and hands in silence, inspecting the claws at the tips of his fingers. “I suppose not. A lizard of some description?” Hadrian only sighs as he lets go and moves onto his other arm. “Then again, the curvature is wrong for most lizards.” Fingers fiddle with his claws for a minute and raises a brow at Hadrian. Hadrian gave him an unimpressed look instead.

“I’m not going to tell you.” Hadrian sniffs the robes subtly, smelling roses, shaving cream and books, like always.

His fingers twitch with the urge to pull the man closer but it wasn’t Tom-

Hadrian blinks to ease his changing sight, glancing away from Tom. He knows he’s watching, waiting and Hadrian is ready to apparate in a moment.

A hand grabs his chin and pulls him back around and surprisingly, there’s no attempts at legilimency. Instead red eyes stare into the eyes of a-

“Ah, a dragon,” he muses. Hadrian blinks. A finger rubs his chin-

Okay- hold on Tom, I’m still- I’m still-

“How rare,” he murmurs. “I couldn’t wait until Christmas Day to meet you. I do apologise.”

“That is what I assumed the invite was for,” Hadrian says lowly. Tom seemed to smirk- which looks weird on Barty’s face.

“Smart kid.”

“It’s really weird you complimenting me with Barty’s face.” Tom laughs a bit, finishing wrapping his arm.

“I can only imagine,” Tom replies wryly, setting down his bandaged arms. “Now please don’t tell me you ripped your scales off your back too.”

Hadrian shook his head and he watches Barty kneel and pick up his scale, one after the other, into a small bowl that suddenly appeared. They’re rather large scales and quite thick in the centre but sharp on the edges so he’s quite pleasantly surprised when Tom doesn’t manage to cut Barty’s hands.

“Where are you?” Hadrian asks suddenly.

“I’m right here.” Hadrian’s heart aches for a second.

“No, where are you? Because Mr Dark Lord, for as long as I’ve been alive I haven’t seen a trace of you besides that of your triarii.” Tom glances up and then refocuses on the scales.

“Perhaps I’m working behind the scenes.”

“Mhmm, and my grandmas a unicorn.” Tom snorts.

“Eager to fight me Mr Potter?”

“No.” Tom pauses and glances up at him and Hadrian leans his elbows on his knees and stared Tom down. “I want to know what goes on behind the twisted mind of a Dark Lord.”

“So depraved,” Tom replies wryly, finally standing with all the scales in the bowl and hands them over. He grabs the bowl gingerly and glances at Tom.

“For someone who killed my parents, your being unnecessarily nice.” Tom’s brows shot up.

“Is that what they told you is it? That I killed your parents?” Hadrians brow furrowed. Just how much had changed?

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. Though I suppose if you want to know the full truth your going to have to wait until Christmas Day. We can talk in person then.”

“So you really have been working behind the scenes.”

“In a way,” Tom agrees. “But I came here with one question.” Hadrian cocks his head.

“The Great Dark Lord is asking a fourteen year old a question? Oh please, do go ahead.” The man twitched and then grabbed his desk chair and sat down.

“My triarii are still a bit naive, a bit blind. So I want to ask, Nicholas Moriarty, how can I fix myself.” Hadrian stared at Tom, looking smug on his seat, eyes watching him carefully.

“Who told you?”

“Maybe I was listening in the whole time.” He eyed Tom, not believing it.

“I didn’t see you.” Toms grin turned slightly feral.

“So it’s true, you can see me when I stick in the shadows. Is it part of being a dragon?” He picks at the bandages, staring Tom down for a moment.

“No. I don’t know why I can see you.” I should always be able to see you.

“But your right,” Tom says, leaning back in the chair, “I wasn’t listening. Hayes reported to his father and immediately told me.” Hadrian felt fully compelled right then to kill the boy. His muscles twitching. “But I have to ask, which one is real? This? Or Moriarty’s.”

Hadrian now felt like stabbing himself with his claws.

“They’re both equal amounts of real.” Tom leans on his fist.

“Really? That’s interesting… they’re both equally fake then?”

“They’re both equally changed,” he says sharply. “But they’re both real.” Tom taps Hadrian on the forehead.

“Your an interesting kid. Do you know how to fix me?”

“Why would I help fix you?” Tom grins lazily.

“So you can learn the truth.” Hadrian eyes Tom.

“In return you give me those robes.” This time he catches the surprise in Toms face.

“Deal,” Tom says and get’s straight into describing it. “If the soul is separated from the body- but has nothing to go into, it’s lingering around in liminal space. The only reason I’m still alive is because I’m using my magic as a binder. No matter what I find, the only thing I can find is placing the soul in a horcrux. Which I refuse to do.”

Because I told you I’d kill you if you did.

Hadrian rubs his brow. He has heard of this. It’s astral projection but without control. But Tom wouldn’t know what it was because a muggle concept and not one wizards were aware of because it was considered a mix of dark magic and prophecy. It was heavily censored and removed from books sometime in the late 1800’s. Which gave it more than thirty years to get lost before Tom could find it.

“How do you end up in that state?” Tom says plainly,

“I was trying to communicate with the dead.”

You were reaching for somebody who was already alive again.

Hadrian raised a brow and picks up one of his scales, rotating it through his fingers in thought.

The solution was easy. Actually. Simple.

He just needs the Elder Wand back. “Do you have the Elder Wand?”

“Unfortunately, someone stole it and we’re investigating it.” He flips the scale through his fingers and whispers,

“Change.” The scale begins to morph into the Elder Wand, heavy in his palm. He thinks for a minute, observing the wand. It was just a replica but allowed the magic imbued in the scale to be used. He holds it in his hand, thinking deeply.

How did Grindelwald steal it?

“How long ago?”

“Four, five months ago.” He needs to get Count De Ville onto it. “Is it possible to fix it?”

“It’s very simple,” Hadrian responds slowly. “But you and your followers can’t do it for reasons I won’t tell you yet.” Tom eyes him.

“You need the Elder Wand for this?”

“You misunderstand how vital it is if you want your body back.” He leans a chin on his fist. “I can do it. Easily.”

“You swear,” Tom growls lowly. “If your tricking me…”

“Don’t speak to me with that tone,” Hadrian warns him sharply. “Speak down to me and I’ll find the wand myself and disappear off the face of the planet so you’ll never get healed.” The man seemed to frown more and Hadrian scratches his temple. “If you can possess people, why haven’t you just done that this whole time?” Tom snorts.

“I’ll be asleep till Christmas recovering.” Tom eyes his arms. “Which seems to make two of us.”

“I’ll be healed by the end of school,” he replies tartly holding out a hand and Tom seems to want to laugh for a moment, before he took off the robes.

“I don’t know what your going to get from it.”

“The same thing being in this room does to you. There’s memories in those robes.” It was so quick- Tom launched at him in moment and Hadrian vanished the robes, allowing Tom to slam into him and into the bed, a small conniving smile on his face. “I told you I want to understand your twisted mind.”

Tom pushed Barty’s wand into his throat, an elbow locked across his chest. Barty’s face looks a bit maniacal now, a bit crazy. A bit insane.

A little bit more like Voldemort.

“You’ve been taking memories from the room.”

“It’s quite easy. You two loved each other so much-”

Red lit him up for a moment and he felt torment rake through him. He only stared at him, jaw gritted and limbs locked before he lets up and Tom proceeds to choke him.

“Maybe I should kill you instead.”

“Killing me kills you,” Hadrian growls, digging claws into Barty’s hands, knowing Tom would feel it. Tom stares him down, pure wrath in his eyes. But Hadrian only smiles, cold and cruel. “I’m not just a kid.”

His body changes into Nicholas Moriarty and he swapped their positions in an instance. Barty had no strength and lacked power. He made a good spy and a good pretender but he made no dueller. Not compared to Hadrian.

Hateful eyes stared up at him as he wrenched Barty’s wand from his hand, chucking it across the room.

“So this is who you are. Hadrian Potter never existed.”

“No,” Hadrian says coolly. “Harry Potter was real. Hadrian Potter was a temporary lie.” Wrath flew across Tom’s face- uncontrollable, relentless rage. “Do you want me to fix you or not? I never said I’d tell anybody.”

“You were a liar all along.”

“You have no idea the lies I tell and the truths I know, Riddle,” he hisses lowly. Red eyes glared at him.

“Maybe I’ll torture you for information after you fix me.”

And I’d allow because I love you. I’d endure it because I don’t want you to know the truth. I don’t exist. I’m a wraith Riddle. I only want this to end.

“Well, you certainly lack manners,” he replies boredly. “I do wonder though, if you remember the things he told you.” Red eyes narrowed and warned him not to go further.

“I remember everything he said.”

“But did you bother interpreting it? It’s crystal clear for any that watch the memories,” he murmurs, eyeing Tom.

“I’ve done my best-”

“Have you?” He challenges, digging a blade into a wound. Better he sever this now-

A face grabbed his jaw tightly and Toms red eyes seemed amused now.

“You keep spouting nonsense. You’re just afraid.”

“And what do I have to possibly be afraid of?” He asks, cocking his head. “I have the power to destroy you, maybe I will.”

“Your afraid you can’t understand me-” Legilimency- he reared back, staring down at him and Tom was watching him now, carefully. Confusion bleeding into his gaze. “Your thoughts make no sense.”

“Yes well I did structure my mind that way.” That was a lie, he’d never structured his mind. It was just fragmented, shattered by the amount of times he’s struggled to live.

“Hmm. Are you Hadrian Potter?”

“I am.”

“Your Nicholas Moriarty.”

“Nicholas Moriarty was never born.” Tom raised a brow.

“So it’s a hidden identity. Then what’s all this?” Tom motions to the body of Harry James Potter and he grunts.

“Me but older.” Tom raised a brow.

“This is what you’ll look like in the future.”

“Yeah.” Tom seemed to eye the body and then grunted.

“Well I suppose that makes more sense. Can you get off of me now?” He gets off and reverts back to Hadrian Potter, rubbing the back of his neck. Tom sits up on his bed and asks slowly, “Who do you support?”

“A lot of people,” he says distantly, eyeing the window and then Tom. “Everything against the Ministry I suppose.”

“Yes well, a minion of mine did tell me how infuriated the Minister was with your brazen display.”

“He can go and kiss his mothers ass for all I care,” Hadrian responds with a roll his eyes. Tom breaks out in open laughter- but Barty’s voice sounded cracky and hoarse. Like he doesn’t laugh that often. “How did you even get in here?”

“Well I was disguised as a student,” Tom reminds him. “Which I’m going to be unable to do to get out.”

Hadrian casts a wandless tempus and notices dinner has already come and gone. He frowns and glances at his scales. But how had that much time passed- had he frozen? Or…

Had he accidentally died and come back? That took a few hours. Well, that kind of sucks.

“I can get you out, but not until it’s dark.”

“Delightful,” Tom responds wryly. “I only have an hour left of magic available.” He grunts in irritation before standing, opening a closet and pulling out his mortar and pestle, throwing two scales in it and using his authority to break them down into a fine powder. He opens up his suitcase and pulls out a small red vial and pauses.

“How are you connected to Barty- if you can’t leave your soul behind?” Tom cocks his head.

“That’s a secret.” He ignores him and drops just a few pieces of the vial into the pot and then cutting a small part of his finger and let one drop into the bowl. Tom stands and looks over his shoulder, his stomach almost touching Hadrians back.

“Don’t stand so close.” Tom chuckles and took a step back.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a secret.”

“A bit salty are we?” Hadrian ignores him as the scales melt into a grey liquid that looked a bit unappealing but one couldn’t deny the power of it. He tips it into one of the goblets he keeps around and handed it to Tom.

“Drink that. It should replenish your magic enough for the nest few hours.”

“If I get too powerful, the wards will detect me.” Hadrian snorted and spun on Tom eyeing the drink like it was a bowl of shit.

“Dumbledore locked you out? I find that a bit amusing.” Tom glared at him. “Listen there’s not a very high chance it’ll replenish you enough to set the wards off.”

“But there’s a chance.”

“I can’t say there isn’t. Magic is magic anyway.” Tom eyed the liquid and then downed it all at once. Nothing happened for a moment- and then Tom’s eyes seemed to glow for a moment, Barty’s hair floating slightly and

Tom stared at the goblet and demanded, “What the hell was that?”

“A reaction?”

“No- what was in this?” Tom stares at him, the goblet in hand.

“Something I made a while ago.” Tom stared at him and back to the goblet in amusement and he sinks into deep thought. Would it return his previous powers if he drank it the same way Tom did.

“What would you need this for?” Tom asks, placing the Goblet on the desk. He glances at the vial and ignores him, picking it up instead and hiding it in his pocket.

“It was a project.” Toms scoffs.

“Great, so I could have died.”

“Barty would have died.” Tom glares at him.

“No, if Barty dies- I die.”

“Mhm.” He checks the time again but they still had too much time on his hands. “I’m going to be honest I have no idea what to do around you.” Tom blinks in surprise before is expression turns thoughtful.

“Well the feeling is mutual.” Hadrian takes that at face value and the two remain silent for bit.

His neck is sore now and he scratches it, Tom glances at it and looks away. He won’t offer to heal it. He doesn’t have the magic to spare to do that.

His touch is still on his arms, on his chin, jaw-

Hadrian ignores him and does some homework instead, flying through it rather quickly.

“What is it like being a dragon?” Tom enquires.

“It has it’s pros and cons. Your cool, you can fly and your a wicked fighter but it’s impossible to go unnoticed. To land, or takeoff- when your so big you can’t hide. I’ve learnt how to shrink but I don’t enjoy it that much. Also there’s a lot of dirt.”

“I suppose that is something else to consider. Your father was a stag.”

There must’ve been the marauders without Peter. To be fair, Severus still seems grumpy enough it’s possible. But that prank must not have occurred because apparently because Sirius is together with Remus now.

He hasn’t talked to Remus much actually outside of class. Half of him thinks Remus is waiting for Hadrian to actually ask. Which he has, a bit. Then he’s distanced himself.

He hums in agreement. “He was.” He spouts some bullshit on the paper and slides it into a folder. After doing it twice- and not actually going through school, he isn’t interested in doing the system again. “Or so I’ve heard.” He eyed Tom and returned to his potions homework. Whizzing through that because McGonagall won’t care too much but Snape? He’d have his head.

He checks the time. It’s dinner now.

“Come on. Time to go.”

Chapter Text

He steps out into the hallway, Tom following him and he watches the area, sending shadows skittering ahead to observe but everyones at dinner. So he walks swiftly through the common rooms and opens the portrait, stepping out into an empty corridor.

Tom follows dutifully and observes the school before they move steadily to the one eyed witch.

“I actually need to drop by Knockturn,” Tom murmurs. “Is there any chance you can get me there?”

“I suppose.” Hadrian walks quickly up from the dungeons, checking Snape was indeed in the Great Hall- which he was.

He slips out and moves quickly to the back entrance towards the bridge. Tom is quick to follow on his heels and they rush down the stairs, out the back door and across the sketchily built bridge.

“What do you need to go to Knockturn for?”

“Abraxas is trying to hunt you down.”

“Moriarty, not me.” Tom nods and Hadrian grunts. “Whatever.” They cross the wards and stand outside of Hogwarts for a long moment as Hadrian pulls out his wand, glancing back at Hogwarts.

It stood patient and tall- strong.

She would be there when he got back. She wouldn’t be destroyed.

He offers his hand to Tom who takes it in silence. He apparates away to Knockturn, arriving in the empty street where eyes immediately focused on the two. Tom walked deeper into Knockturn and Hadrian follows, eyeing anyone who got too close.

They went to a building where Tom leaned in and whispered, “Wait here.” Hadrian slips into the dark alley, turning into Moriarty and observing everyone who walked by. He sends a few shadows to sliver inside the building and listened in.

“I found Moriarty.” Toms voice sounds slightly distorted and it’s likely he’s deep within the building. He hears Abraxas’s fine voice and leans against the wall, listening to his old friend.

“Of course you did. Did he provide you with an answer?”

“Somewhat. He says we need the elder wand back.”

“We’re still trying to locate it. I’ll talk to Thaddeus and see if he’s made any progress. Do we need to head back?”

“We can do yes-”

Hadrian feels a set of eyes on him and stares out of the crag to see a man dressed fully in black, purple eyes glimmering underneath a hood and he freezes.

Impossible-

That heathen smiles a wicked smile- a hand pointed at the building-

Hadrian shoves through the shadows- grabbing a surprised Abraxas’s wrist and Riddles wrist right as the building explodes altogether into poisonous purple.

A quick snap deposits all three of them on a roof a few blocks away- the flames licking at the buildings around them-

Hadrian whips around-

“Merlins beard,” Abraxas says, dragging himself up and helping Tom. Hadrian peers over the ledge- but there’s no figure there. There’s no one there.

The purple flames consume the house nonetheless and seemed to laugh at Hadrian-

He’s been found.

“Who are you?” Abraxas demands, a hand on his wand and Hadrian glances at Abraxas.

“Abraxas this is Moriarty,” Tom says carefully, scarlet eyes turning to the building they’d just been in. “Who was it?” Hadrian clenches his jaw.

“Nobody you need to worry about yet.”

He feels death vibrate in the back of his head and turned to Tom and Abraxas.

“You should both head back. The aurors will be here soon.” The two stare him down and he looks at Abraxas’s face. Those grey eyes and intimidatingly fine features- that frown that seemed to be carried around now. It was unfamiliar on his face but the frown lines spoke of something different. “Lord Malfoy.”

“Mr Moriarty.”

“You should be careful,” Tom says slowly. “If you have trouble we’ll be here to repay that favour.” Hadrian waves it away.

“Just find the Elder Wand. Until then, stay out of my affairs.”

Stay away from Hogwarts.

Tom smirks, glancing at the flames and it fades. “Until later Moriarty.” The two disappear with a crack and Hadrian spins around on his heels, walking away from the spreading fire- the aurors can put it out.

He wants to know how that man was still alive. Had he not killed him before he’d died? Had Tom not managed to avenge him?

He gets a headache the more he thinks of that purple gaze and the face that had laughed at his dying wounds.

He trudges slowly through Diagon Alley, before walking to Gringotts, ignoring the line altogether.

“Hey pal you have to wait your turn!”

“I’m in front you have to go to the back-” He ignores all of them and walks up to Ragnok. The goblin glances at him and Hadrian leans down-

“He’s alive.” The goblin freezes, then turning altogether and surveying Hadrian.

“Are we thinking of the same person wizard?” Hadrian gives him a look and the Goblin presses a report into his palm, lowering his voice. “I suspected so after I sent a team to inspect your families remains.” He nods curtly to the Goblin.

“You’ll need to keep an eye on the vaults, all of them.” The Goblin nods.

“I’ll hire some Aurors.”

“I suggest Unspeakable’s.”

“I’ll consider.”

A voice clears her throat and they both glance at the woman in front of Ragnok’s desk- Narcissa Malfoy. Hadrian blinks and turns back to Ragnok who merely puts up a hand, “I’ll have it sorted.” He nods and makes his leave, scanning his surroundings.

But the man had moved on like a ghost. Perhaps he could do with Grindelwalds help. He rubs his chin and glances at the report in his hand and walks to the inn to sit at the back table, his back against the wall and opened it.

Investigation of Lord Fleamont Potters dead on the 29th November 1994

The subject was found dead ten metres from his residence. Condition of the subject was dire. Subject seemed to have been exposed to a ruthless curse that melted flesh from bone and was violently torn in half from the abdomen. This appeared to have been after the leg muscles were severed to prevent walking ability and hands were severed. Likely to prevent any type of casting.

The heart was discovered to be missing and in it’s place was a large cavity covered in purple wounds . Subject was missing his tongue and had severe brain trauma from harsh impact, also resulting in a cracked skull.

Lord Potter’s house was burned down and the surroundings indicate a severe fight had taken place, leaving foliage burning and snapped in half. This concurs the use of bombarda maxima and there are traces of a spell Grindelwald used during the height of his time. Fiendfyre. However upon closer inspection, it held no traces of Grindelwald’s magic and records conclude Grindelwald was stripped of his magic core. Therefore we conclude this was not Grindelwald’s doing as speculated.

There were traces of dead animals around the property, drained dry and left bleeding a purple pus of sorts. An Unspeakable accompanying us discovered signs of Necromancy and deemed the aftermath was the results of failed summoning.

We have had one previous scene with similar but more extreme signs. Unfortunately the details are confidential but we have concluded that the human responsible was not killed in 1960 like originally thought and is on the move.

We conclude the report of Lord Fleamont Potters death. If the details are unsatisfactory, please see Gringotts manager Ragnok.

Sincere apologies,

Gringotts Investigation Team 1

Hadrian put the paper down slowly, struggling to breathe. That- that was- his Grandfather and his friend and business partner was dead- violently murdered and failed in his old age against an enemy greater than himself.

He shoves the paper into his pocket.

He has a funeral to organise- he has to. Fleamont has to be allowed his eternal rest in the Potter Family Graveyard.

He writes a letter to the French Ministry and requests Fleamont Potters remains to be brought back to England and hands it over personally to the mailing department, watching it get sent to France before leaving back to Hogwarts.

Hadrian walks through the halls quietly, scuffing his boots against the floor.

“Mr Potter,” Snape’s voice drawls from behind him and he glances back to see the man walking towards him, rather intimidatingly. “I’ll have you know you have skipped dinner thrice now.”

“Apologies professor.” Snape eyes him.

“Do not skip another day.” The man whisks away and he watches Snape go. He glances at the tree he’d once watched Mad-Eye moody turn Draco into a ferret and wondered how the future could change so much and yet not change at all.

He walks towards the Headmaster’s office and knocks on the door.

“Come in Mr Potter.” The griffin turns and he slips inside, looking at Dumbledore on the desk.

“Professor,” he says quietly. He pulls out the investigation slip and hesitates. “I did mention that I looked into my Grandfathers death right?” Dumbledore nods slowly.

“Can I presume that is the results?”

“They are,” Hadrian says slowly. “But… but it’s not what I wanted to hear.” He passes over the paper to Dumbledore-

And slowly watches horror unfold across his face- eyes frantically reading line after line- and then paused at the end- understanding and something akin to rage temporarily flitting through his face.

“Mr Potter this-” Dumbledore seemed to be at a loss for words.

“1960 is the year the famous Hadrian Black died, or so everyone tells me,” Hadrian says quietly. “If he was so powerful, and he was killed by the same person that killed my Grandfather- I want to know why they’re connected.”

“Hadrian Black was a good friend to Lord Potter,” Dumbledore says. “But there must be more I don’t know. I’m sorry to ask this of you Hadrian, but can you tell me why he was in France?”

“I can’t,” Hadrian said softly. “If it’s not in there it means they didn’t find the reason he was there in the first place.” Dumbledore slowly put the paper down on the table.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Hadrian picked at his nails and said quietly,

“Moriarty contacted me.” Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment and then asks quietly,

“It must have been urgent.”

“He said he saw him in Knockturn. A man with purple eyes in full black.” Dumbledore goes still. “I’ve come to ask if we can strengthen the wards.”

“Do you believe he’ll come after you?” Dumbledore asks carefully. Hadrian looks at Dumbledore and nods, avoiding his gaze.

“If not me, he’ll go after the sons and daughters of those related to the Knights of Walpurgis. I think Hayes Black may be in particular danger.”

“I would have to agree with you,” Dumbledore says softly. He taps his wand to his brow and then says, “I do have a way to strengthen the wards, but it takes time.”

“How long?” Hadrian asks.

“A month. The effects are everlasting and it’s near impenetrable. But the expenditure in energy is what discourages many from using it.” He thinks of what he gave Tom and scratches the bandages on his arms that Dumbledore notices.

“I have a way of fixing that,” he says immediately. “We can get it done within the week if we start now. If it would be more effective with other peoples magic-”

“I can’t ask that of you or anyone else,” Dumbledore says carefully. “Regardless only one person can work the spell.” Hadrian knows vaguely the spell Dumbledore is mentioning but it’s old- potentially unstable and has quite a substantial risk to the caster-

If they didn’t have aid.

“Are you certain this fix works?”

“I’ve already tested it.” Dumbledore nods.

“We can start tomorrow after I’ve read over the spell.” Hadrian nods, retrieving the paper and Dumbledore grabs his wrist gently, touching the bandages. “If you need help Mr Potter, there are many people who would be willing to help you. And please don’t forget to eat. Fleamont would be upset.”

Hadrian hesitates and then nods. “Thank you.” Dumbledore let’s go and he pulls the paper back into his pockets, leaving quietly.

He arrives at the Slytherin Common Room and ignores all of the gazes as he hisses,

“Lizzie, come.” He doesn’t trust that he won’t get attacked during the night- and he’d rather have a Basilisk guarding him than not at all.

Except- only silence greets him. He glances at Theodore who is tilting his head, listening.

“Is she responding?” The boy asks.

“No…” He listens for her but hears nothing. Maybe she’s out at the lake? He slips to the windows that looked into the gloomy depths-

“Lizzie?” He hisses again, amplifying it and again- only silence. But a tentacle waves at him. So she’s not in the lake either? “Baron have you seen her?” The ghost floated in.

“The snake?” The Ghost asks curiously. He nods. “No, I have not.”

He grips the paper in his pocket but Draco says calmly,

“Not much can harm a Basilisk, I’m sure she’s fine.” Hadrian still frowns, wanting to check the chamber.

“You want to come?” He asks Draco and the group. Hayes raises a brow.

“You want us to come?”

“I’ve got more pressing matters to deal with… That I may need your help with.” The group stands and follows him out. They go to the third floor and Draco chokes when he pushes open the girls bathroom.

“Can I ask why we’re going into the girls bathroom?”

“It’s the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.” He walks in and to the sink hisses, “Open.” He can’t be bothered with stairs and jumps down when it opens and he hears Blaise shriek as someone pushes him in but a quick slowing charm has them landing on old ancient bones.

Blaise scrambles and Draco, Theodore and Hayes all land on their feet. With a quick lumos, the group walked to the chamber- which was completely empty.

“Lizzie!” He hisses. It reverberates in the space and he walks towards the pool where she normally was or maybe she was sleeping in the pipes- he opens it with a flick but no Basilisk slides out.

“Is this where the Basilisk stays?” Hayes asks.

“Yes… She should be here. I didn’t let her out.” He glances around, scanning the pools and Hayes sniffs.

“I smell someone’s been down here.” He pauses.

“Who?” He asks quizzically. Who else could speak Parseltongue and knew of this places existence? Apart from Tom. He wouldn’t have taken the Basilisk.

“I don’t know. I can’t smell a scent but I can smell like… like the air has been disturbed?” Weird. It can’t have been him. There wouldn’t have been any time and the school alarms would have gone off.

“Hey, there’s something weird over here.” He glances at Draco who begins picking up something half draped in the water and lets out a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank fucking Merlin.” He walks over and picks up the broken scale shed.

“I take it this is good news?” Draco asks dryly.

“It’s snake shed,” Hayes points out. “No wonder she isn’t replying to you.”

“The question is, where is she doing it?” He glances through the water and then spots a mass curled up in the far corner of the water. “There you are…” He walks forward and stands at the edge of the water. He mutters a quick spell and the water parts for him, allowing him to walk in to where a grumpy basilisk was curled up- a yellow eye staring at him.

“Massster.” She hisses quietly. She moves a bit and he can see that she’s already shedded half of it.

“Isss everything going well?”

“I’m almossst finisshhhed.” He nods and mets her scales.

“If you need help call out. I’ll leave the pipesss open, come to my room when your finissshhhed.” The basilisk blinks in acceptance and he walks back up to the platform, hopping up and the water closed in behind him, submerging the basilisk again behind him.

“You were panicking weren’t you,” Blaise teased. He sighs.

“It’s just been a long day.” Nobody says anything as he levitates them all out of the bathroom and then return to the Slytherin Common Rooms.

Hadrian stays out for a long while, which everyone seems to notice is unusual. But he can’t go into his room alone. Not tonight. Not when he’d seen those purple eyes.

He sits staring at the fire, Hedwig sitting on his chest.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you a question,” Hayes says, sitting behind him.

“Yes?”

“What happened to your arms.”

“It was just a small spell backfiring.”

“Really? Because you smell like our ex-professor.” He stares at Hayes and realised he forgot to get rid of Barty’s smell. He grunts and doesn’t reply. Hedwig eyes Hayes before hooting and returning to doze off.

Hadrian’s eyes were getting heavier and heavier before he finally allowed himself to pass out on the couch.

Chapter Text

Thunder sounded in the distance and his body was soaked in rain- so cold- he was so cold- But he couldn’t stop- or he’ll die.

He stares up at the clouds, the agony racing through him. Death was trying to get him to focus-

“Well, I suppose you lived up to your reputation,” a voice eerily said and he glimpses a staggering figure coming closer and closer. Missing limbs and lungs and half dead- “I see how you travelled through time too now as well.” Hadrian spits out blood.

“I’ll kill you-”

Purple eyes get right in his face, leering at him. “Can you? Can you kill me? I could kill you right now… I am killing you right now-”

Hadrian glances down at his missing heart and just bares his teeth at the wizard. “You can’t get rid of me.” The man grins, teeth alarmingly white- gums alarmingly also white. Like bone.

“I was going to say the same thing. But even if I can’t- I’ll just kill everyone you love, over- and over and over again. How about it? I could kill your lover over and over and over again- make him plead and beg and suffer right in front of you-” Hadrian managed to strike him- head against head and the man reeled back for a minute-

Hadrian clawed himself away from the crazy bastard-

“Oh don’t play like that Harry .” Hadrian gasps in agony as something slides between his ribs, impaling him into the ground. “We still have so much fun left you and I.”

“FUCK OFF!” He roars, using what sparse magic remains to yank the blade out and grab it himself, crawling to his knees, to spin around and use the sword like a cane, struggling to his feet as he bleeds out upon the earth. A quick healing spell does the trick. He hears Ekkathion fly nearby- roaring- The wizard looks up and the wand points upwards- “NO- EKKATHION!” The dragon appears and Hadrian lunges at the the wizard. “NEVILLE-” He screams as Ekkathion’s chest is cleaved open- the dragon jerking violently at the impact midair- “NEVILLE I AM GOING TO KILL YOU-”

A spell flies at him and Hadrian shudders to the floor- a boot to his face moments later and a blade is taken to his legs again.

Neville cackles. “This is what you get for trying to escape your fate,” Neville croons. Thunder and lightening crashes and a silver blade comes arcing down- down-

Hadrian jerks up, gasping for breath and grabbing his shirt- drenched in sweat- he glances at the fire but it’s completely out. He glances around, expecting to see Neville just there, looming over him. But he’s not- and his house mates seemed to have also fallen asleep in the common room. All of them sleeping semi-peacefully.

Hedwig delves into his neck and he feels a small version of Lizzie climb up to go underneath his neck and wrap comfortingly around his chest and glance at him, yellow eyes gleaming.

“Sssleep Massster.” He strokes Hedwig head and the bird coos quietly. He drops his head back to the pillow and shudders, summoning those Slytherin robes and takes a deep breath of that smell he misses so much. He inhales it to calm his frantic heart and slowly manages to stop his trembling-

He doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night and is up and washed before the rest of the group. He almost jumps when he hears Nevilles voice in the hallways outside of Defence Against the Dark Arts- “Trevor!” A frog bounds past and in a split moment- Neville makes eye contact with Hadrian-

That face was familiar, those dark eyes turning from clumsy to hateful and conniving- then all the way to hell with pure purple insanity-

Hayes shoves him into the wall before the killing curse can escape Hadrian’s lips.

“Control your toad Longbottom,” Draco snaps. The boy grabs his toad and scuttles to the back of the line outside of the classroom. Remus appears, locking eyes with Hadrian- whom Hayes was still pinning to the wall and then opens the door.

“Everyone come in.” Hayes forces Hadrian to wait, grabbing his robes roughly and whispering harshly,

“What the hell was that?”

“Just an intrusive thought.” Hayes digs his nails into Hadrian’s shoulders.

“You were going to kill him,” Hayes growls. “Why?”

“None of your business.” He shoves out of Hayes’s grip, returning to the classroom- which is cleared and Remus is going over the unforgivable curses and Hadrian finds his seat- adjacent to Neville and he hadn’t even noticed. He supposes he’s been distracted by a good many things in this class.

He digs his fingers into his hair, leaning his head away from Neville so he can’t see the boy. But he can hear his toad and hear him whispering to Trevor incessantly.

“Who knows the incantation of the Killing Curse?” He puts his hand up and Remus nods. “Yes Hadrian?”

“Avada Kedavra.” That spell was etched into his very bones, burned into his brain and sucked into his soul. If there was a spell he could do blind, hands bound and tongue cut off- it was that spell. It was the killing curse.

“Correct. The killing curse is the most powerful spell known and-”

“Trevor please-” He digs his fingernails into his scalp, tapping his fingers against the table to keep his hands preoccupied.

Don’t kill him. He’s just a boy. Don’t kill him- don’t kill him-

He does register the pain in his head as well as the headache that had begun to build. His chest felt tight and restrictive- the clothes suddenly too tight and too much- he twitched and his hand trembled. He scratches at the back of his neck and closed his eyes.

Just think Tom. It’s okay. He’s okay. He’s not insane- he didn’t make a horcrux. He’s alive- not quite well but he will be. He’s going to set up wards today with Dumbledore- everything is fine-

“No it’s not,” Neville says quietly. Hadrian slowly stared over at Neville- seeing purple eyes stare at him from the body of a boy. A saccharine smile spread across the boys face-

“Erm, Hadrian?” The boy says suddenly and looks at hazel eyes again. The kid looks uncomfortable, sweating a bit, the same bucktoothed boy that he’d once been semi-friends with. Hadrian suddenly can’t breath and grabs his book, storming out of the classroom before Remus or Hayes can say anything.

He speed walks as far away from Nevilles presence as humanly possible- bumping into the few stray students before rushing to the room of requirement. He glances over his shoulder to see if anyone is following. He scratches at his neck more, trying to get rid of the feeling of being watched-

And something snapped.

He’d stepped to the stairs he’d once seen collapsed and the stairs where Neville had once killed that snake-

And everything exploded. Waves of green fire just exploded in an instance like a tornado and he spun around, glancing around frantically to see if anyone had seen. He felt the magic rush and leave him in an instance and had to take a long breather.

The floor was scorched, the walls blackened-

He walks down quickly-

Until he spots burgundy and accidentally bashes his shoulder against a very solid wall.

“Potter?” He glances up and around to blink at Viktor Krum whose brow furrowed, a callused hand landing on his shoulder. “You look ill.”

“I’m fine- really- I just have to- I have to- get a breather,” he says, swallowing thickly and Viktor frowns- glancing up and he hears people- and Viktor drags him down a different hallway. “Viktor- this is highly unnecessary-”

“I vill be ve judged of vat.” Krum pushes him down into a seat next to a window and Hadrian glances up at him. “Is it Mactator?” Hadrian shakes his head.

“It has nothing to do with them. Well, not that I know of.” Viktor crossed his arms and it’s not an dissimilar stance that Tom used to take- the face he was making was similar too. A disapproving frown and eyes that were blatantly showing him he didn’t believe him. Hadrian runs a hand over his face. “It’s Longbottom.” Viktor raises a brow.

“Ve terrified Gryffindor?” Hadrian laughs humourlessly.

“When you put it like that, yeah.” He scratches his temple furiously. “I keep getting flashbacks.”

“Ov the boy?” Hadrian nods and Viktor glances down the hallway and says quietly, “From what?”

“A relative of his,” Hadrian mutters lowly. “But- the images-”

“Vey overlap? Yes, I have seen that a few times too,” Viktor admits. “It is truly frightening.”

Hadrian sighs, leaning on his knees. “It’s hard to remember it’s not real.”

“If it helps, I stare at ve person and count ve differences until it’s clear vey aren’t ve same person.” Hadrian glances at Viktor in surprise.

“Looking towards the source rather than away from it?” Viktor nods. He rubs his hands agitatedly. It was not seeing Neville that was the issue. Not the boy in his class, but the other one. “It could work,” he admits. “I’ll have to try it.”

He takes a long breath was his head hanging close to his knees for a moment, inhaling and exhaling.

“Vey call it madness,” Viktor says quietly. “I vink it is damage.” He’s smarter than he appears, Viktor.

“It is. It does something to your head,” he mutters, staring at the floor. “You never told me how you met Mactator.”

“Neither did you,” Viktor points out. Hadrian hesitates.

“I was on a trip,” he says slowly. “And I discovered a factory. Where they were turning wizard children into power banks of magic- turning them into bombs,” Hadrian says softly, pulling at his sleeves. “They carved into their skin runes that when they used the slightest hint of magic they would die. It was only in the testing stages but they forgot magic runs in our veins so if the bleeding hadn’t stopped by the time the runes had finished- the children… died.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, the vivid images and smells coming back. “I attacked them on sight and well… it didn’t go well for me after that. Thank god they didn’t actually recognise me.”

Viktor was silent. “You are very brave for a fourv year.”

“Yes well, some may say I have an old soul.” He gives Viktor a tired, grim smile. “Your turn.”

Viktor’s gaze went far away. “I was staying in Durmstrang over summer break for my personal reasons. I stumbled across an abandoned building when I explored beyond the wards. I’d say two days travel from Durmstrang and I found the abandoned building. I vought I would explore since I was still on magical property. Vey were sacrificing something,” Viktor murmured, his voice quietening, eyes flickering as he saw something else. “Raising someving. Vere were so many dead bodies I vought I’d join vem next. I called our Aurors and tried to buy time for the girl that was in the centre. I won’t forget veir faces, old, weavered, eyes sunken deep into veir skulls and teev rotten. Vere was a woman too, an old Baba Yaga. She was powerful and tried to kill me. She screamed- and screamed- she tore the girl apart and ate her before I could pull her away. Let’s say ve aurors arrived before I too, was eaten.”

He feels his bandaged arms and says quietly, “I think you and I were both brave, Viktor. Mactator is the worst of the worst. We are lucky the dragons were there to help us.”

“And your Basilisk,” Viktor points out. “It was helpful.”

He looks at the floor and says quietly, “The Baba Yaga, you see her in Trelawney don’t you.” Viktor glances at him and curls a lip.

“I can’t stand her. I imagine blood on those teev, flesh in her hair-” Viktor looks away. “I am ashamed.”

“There is nothing to be ashamed of.” He rolls his shoulders. “Purple eyes are my trigger- and this… smile. It sends my skin crawling and my muscles twitching. I swear sometimes my body is trying to crawl away on it’s own. I almost killed Neville earlier.”

“Karkaroff has had to stop me each time I see her,” Viktor admits. “So I stay away as best as I can.” He gives Viktor a smile.

“That makes two of us.” Viktor offers a hand.

“How good are you at quidditch?” Hadrian smirks, taking his hand.

“Really good.” Viktor grins.

“We’ll see about that.”

Chapter Text

‘Ab aeterno ab invito’

From Eternity, From Unwillingness

“Where did you go?” Tom asks, his face devoid of emotion as he leant against the door frame. Hadrian grabbed a bowl from the table and filled it with water before summoning a cloth and wetting his face and neck.

“I just went out.”

“We’ve talked about this,” Tom growls, prowling forward, prodding Hadrian in the side roughly, earning himself a glare. Hadrian bites back a retort he would regret and washes his hands, grabbing a dry towel to wipe the water off. “With people hounding our asses you have to tell me where you’re going-”

“You are not my mother,” Hadrian bites back. Vanishing the stuff he’d used and grabbing his coat from the back of his chair.

“No, I’m your boyfriend and it’s my job to make sure you don’t recklessly injure yourself or put yourself in danger,” Tom snarls back, grabbing Hadrians shoulder. “What the hell is wrong with you today?” Hadrian glares down at Tom and Ekkathion chirps from the fake tree where their owls are also sat.

“Nothing,” he snaps. Tearing bread from the loaf as he walks to the study, chewing on it as he avoids Tom.

“Don’t be a coward Black.” Hadrian spun around- ready to defend himself only for Tom to kiss him on the lips, stealing the words from his tongue and when Tom pulled back, raised a brow. “Ready to talk like an adult now?”

Hadrian really wanted to throw a rock at Tom’s head-

“Fighting brother?” Orion asks, walking in from the front door, covered in black leather. “He was out with me Riddle. He’s just… fired up.” Orion smirks, waltzing past them and Hadrian now wanted to throttle his brother.

“Hey you can’t just-” he tries but Tom points at him,

“You could have just said you went out with Orion.”

“You would have asked where, when- what for- you’re the most over protective man I know,” Hadrian growls, pulling his gloves off.

“You know other men?” Tom asks in amusement. “Shocking.” Hadrian rolls his eyes, tossing his gloves onto the hallway stand and knew the elves would pick it up later.

“It’s just people getting on my nerves,” Hadrian mutters, rubbing his wrists. “Nothing more nothing less.” Tom looks at him with a blank face for a moment.

“Who did you go out to meet?”

“Dumbledore, briefly.” He checks he has his wand and twists the Gaunt family ring around his finger- Tom having outright given it to him as a promise- but also unknowing of what it was. “He didn’t have the news I wanted to hear.”

“Mhm. No sightings of Grindelwald yet.”

“Not yet. He disappeared.” A snake slithered past and he watches in amusement as Nagini slithers by. “What have you been working on.”

“I have been researching Mactator and all the things we know about,” Tom says wryly. “They are kind of public enemy number one.” Hadrian gives Tom a grunt, moving to the study. “You’re supposed to be helping.”

Mactator was public enemy number one. Hadrian’s enemy was a lot more powerful. Still, he’ll help take down an organisation that murdered incessantly.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he responds, moving to the study. “They won’t be successful anyways.”

“There’s that absolute certainty I wanted to hear,” Tom says wryly, following behind him and when he pushed the door open in the study-

“Oh Merlins saggy balls,” Hadrian says with a groan. Orion and Aiden sheepishly grinned at them, sitting on the seat with Aiden on Orion’s lap. “Get a room you two.”

Orion get’s up, and drags Avery out, laughing.

“On the desk,” Tom says in disgust, casting scourgify very quickly, disturbing a few of Hadrian’s papers.

“Well I’ll be wiping that from my mind,” he mumbles, turning to the books. He pulls one out about magical warfare strategy. A book he needed to not only revise but memorise.

A pair of arms wrap around his waist and a head rests on his shoulders.

“What’s really got you so wound up darling?” Hadrian wanted nothing more to crumple into Tom’s arms but he had a job to do- a very important one.

He lowers the book, staring at the pages blankly.

“I saw an old acquaintance,” he says finally. “Mr Sebastian Sallow,” he growls. “I was going to crucio him then and there on the sidewalk.”

“I would be pleased to do it for you,” Tom offers.

“I’m certain there’d be a warrant out for you if you did that.” Tom laughs darkly, kissing his neck.

“The Aurors can try their hardest but they’ll never find me.” Hadrian didn’t disbelieve that- with how well he’d hidden as Voldemort. He hums.

“Maybe they’ll send an Unspeakable.”

“The only person they could send to find me, would be you,” Tom says in a sultry voice. Hadrian shoves a hand into his face.

“Be that as it may,” Hadrian responds, his voice turning sour, “Mr Sallow sought it upon himself to mention the origins of my birth and my dark nature. Publicly.” Tom paused and when Hadrian glances partially over his shoulder- he saw murder in Tom’s eyes. “He found himself without a pair of balls for the night.”

Tom chuckles darkly against the nape of his neck. “Of course. You can defend yourself well enough without me.”

“Well enough?” Hadrian jests. “I am the best Wizard around.” Tom kisses his jaw.

“Of course dear. Whatever you say.” Hadrian mocks him and Tom laughs, squeezing a bit before letting go and moving to the desk where there were some unfamiliar files. Hadrian waits for when Tom is distracted to slip into the shadows and return to his private research chambers.

It’s a single cave with no entrance or exits far beneath the manor and he lights the lanterns, manually.

His steps echo on the stone in the space as he walks towards the stone shelf where his works reside. Everything neatly ordered and tidied since the last time he’d been here.

He set the book down, organising the new information he had on Mactator and where they’d placed his men. Someone knew the warfare strategies and was putting them into action amongst the members.

He pushes open the book to gaze at a formation. Double envelopment. Mactator was pushing them in to try and break through their flank defences and then move to attack centre base.

Hadrian would have to fake a retreat and attack from their rear to counter this. Does he have men to spare for it though?

Ekkathion appeared on his miniaturised stone nest, a large scroll in his hand and it must be from his informants. The usually supply him with a short daily update.

He pulls off the leather strap keeping it bound and broke the seal before unravelling it.

M. has made a move on two of our bases and taken them. Twelve dead, the rest have escaped. Base A and Z.

Hadrian pulls out pins from the cork board to his right, modifying the map and replacing the pins with two circular magnets instead.

He eyes the map of England, eyeing each and every remaining base they had before writing back the letter to the commanders for the new strategic plan as well as a detailed sketch of the battlefield he was preparing.

He sealed it with magic and bound it in the leather strap so they knew before handing it back to Ekkathion. Ekkathion rather than birds because he needs to make sure it reaches there undetected. He’d use Death but things tended to crumple in his talons or beak when held for too long.

Ekkathion slipped into the shadows, disappearing and he focuses on the pages. Military strategy. Sometimes, it would just be easier to have an all out wall rather than be creeping around the ministry. But if he moved the aurors around- made them track down mactator as well- he could put mactator into a corner.

He writes another message to an ally who would be more than willing to return. One Sebastian Sallow.

He puts it in the box of messages that needed to be sent and he sent a letter to the other bases, informing them of the plan and where they had to move. If he rearranged all the bases in private- two at a time so they maintain a constantly shifting formation it would put Mactator’s leader in a strict position.

“You are here again boy,” a voice says and he glances over his shoulder at an old, slightly weathered painting. How odd it was that the one that left Hogwarts first was the last one remaining.

“Salazar,” he responds, refocusing on old battle maps. Most of the references were surprisingly muggle and from Alexander the Great. The Battle of Chaeronea, the Battle of Issus, the Siege of Gaza and Tyre…

He flips through the battles with a furrowed brow.

“What’s your opinion on Magical Warfare?”

“It’s not a very common concept,” Salazar says at last. “As wixen got burned to death back then it caused quite some issues in the communities and it was a rule that common folk couldn’t be harmed. Therefore it was usually only old wizarding families who fought for honour. In a war or in a duel.”

“It must have been good enough to make a book on it,” he says pointedly. “Did it ever happen?”

“There was one,” he says slowly. “Between Wizarding factors. But the two sides went to war and used their supporters and families as soldiers. This was hundreds of years before Hogwarts was built. The book your reading no doubt mentions The Battle of Sarcaph.” Hadrian scans the first few pages and then flips to the back- where it all seemed to condense.

“It does,” Hadrian admits, scanning the names. He hesitates. “This was between Romans and Greek Wizards.”

“It was,” Salazar agrees. “Not too long after Alexander the Great died.” He scans the time.

127 B.C. He spots the strategic layout- far more complex than the previous Archaic and Classic warfare strategies he was used to.

“Regardless, the Greeks had something stolen from them and declared war on the Romans. They fought in Macedonia. Or so I was told.” Hadrian hums.

“I’ll have to read that.” He hears Salazar chuckles.

“I have a feeling I know who you will support.”

“Do you now?” Ekkathion returns with a letter and he cracks it open to discover words he didn’t want to see.

C. A. passed away from injuries. Who is to be appointed?

He takes a deep breath to keep from smashing something to pieces.

When he feels calm enough, he writes a simply response.

M. N.

Ekkathion disappears again and when he returns with no letter, he flips through the letters he has to send but half of them can be send by owl or eagle.

He turns away and chucks them into a file to take back up to the manor. He snaps his fingers and Kreacher turns up, just as old looking as always but with none of that hostility. It makes him seem a bit more youthful.

“Is there anything Kreacher can do for the Young Master?”

“A cup of lavender and honey tea Kreacher please with some snacks.” The elf bows and pops away as he searches through his other files, pulling out information and legislations he’s needed to keep.

Kreacher pops back in with the tray and sets it on the small round table he’d designated the elf. Sometimes he’d find things spontaneously placed there, like water, reminding him to drink or food to remind him to eat.

Sometimes he’d find a book he’d lost.

“Thank you Kreacher.”

“Of course Young Master.” He pops away a moment later and Hadrian dips some cookies into the tea to be softened and slowly evaluated the strategic plans he’d disbanded in the past to get some ideas.

Siwah Oasis had an oracle?

He pauses, surveying that information quietly. How much information did muggles have that they didn’t even realise? The Delphi oracle? The temples that had long since been desecrated or destroyed…

He writes down the two places he’ll need to go to eventually. If there was even remnants of power at Siwah or Delphi-

Honestly, why wasn’t there a school in Greece or Rome? Or Egypt? The places of origin for humankind? Or Old Persia? What happened to them all? It doesn’t make sense…

“Salazar, why Scotland?” He asks.

“Expand,” Salazar demands.

“Why did you decide to build Hogwarts in Scotland.”

“I don’t know. In the end it’s just where we chose.”

“So there wasn’t a reason.”

“Apart from there needing to be a school in the British Isles, no. Not really.”

“The children of Egypt, Libya and the mediterranean, where did they go?”

“Africa had Uagadou,” Salazar reminded him. “I’m sure the mediterranean children went elsewhere-”

“To where?” He demands. “Durmstrang is in Scandinavia, Hogwarts in the British Isles and Uagadou is in Uganda, East Africa. The children of Greece and Rome will not go that far. What about Persia? The asian schools are too far for them too.”

“I can’t give you the answer you seek,” Salazar says quietly. “But do you want to know what I think?” He looks at Salazar. “I think your heart belongs in a time long since past.” He raises a brow at Salazar.

“What gives you that impression?”

“You are older than you appear,” the portrait said pointedly. “You know things you shouldn’t and you seem so irrevocably drawn to the world of Ancients that even you can’t stop from going down that path.” Hadrian looks at the cunning portrait before quietly returning to his book.

“I can’t turn back time.”

“You are here now. Aren’t you?” Hadrian pauses, straightening and turning around to Salazar- green eyes glimmering in humour. In jest. In knowing. “Don’t think I wouldn’t notice. You cannot see the future. Unlike what everyone claims. You know the future from experience. The more it changes the more it scares you because the less you know. The past is changeable but your future has already been lost. You abandoned those people.”

“I died,” Hadrian argues. Salazar held a hand up.

“I did not mean it in accusation. I have had plenty of years to study time. I have come to one conclusion. When you travel to the past, things change. But that original time you came from, continues with or without you and nothing will change that. We have already concluded time is not linear. So either, you have left that world behind and imprinted your mark upon it.”

Hadrian sighs. “I already knew that.” Or else he wouldn’t have to deal with Neville. “Unfortunately.”

“I am curious,” the man admits, “but much is on your mind so I shall maintain my silence.”

“Wisely,” Hadrian grumbles. The wizard sighs and fades away.

When he has all the files he needs- he returns to the manor- only immediately to run into Orion who frowns at him.

“Tom was looking for you.”

“I was busy,” he replies curtly. Orion looks at the files and his frown only deepens.

“I can see that. We just got back from Dumbledore, what could you possibly need to do?”

“Other stuff,” he replies curtly, walking around Orion.

“You are on edge all the time, won’t you tell us what’s happening?”

“It’s nothing major.” Only a snort greets him.

“Yeah right. The future weighing down on you or something brother?”

“Yes,” he says flatly. Dead silence greets him as he disappears around a corner, into the dining hall where everyone was eating and Orion ran in after him.

“Hey hold on- what did you-” he cuts Orion off by walking up to Arcturus and laying a kiss to his temple.

“Father.”

“Hadrian,” his father responds, patting Hadrians hand that rested on his shoulder. “You have been quite distant this week.”

“Lots on my mind,” he replies apologetically. Blue eyes pierced green before nodding.

“Come and sit.” He does, vanishing the files to his room before eyeing the food and deciding what he wanted to eat as hunger gnawed at his stomach. “I don’t suppose there’s been any new moves made by our lovely enemies?” Arcturus enquires to the room as they eat quietly. Abraxas and his father Septimus, alongside his wife Alana, all look at each other.

Hadrian watches them as he picks at his food. Toms hand slips to his knee, reminding him to eat and he takes a bite of the roasted beef. As delicious as it is, and as hungry as he is, he can’t help but find the food unappetising.

Salazar’s words weighed heavily on his mind.

“We suspect Mactator has a supporter who is not under their organisation but is helping their advances,” Septimus says at last, informing Hadrian and Tom. Arcturus had initiated the conversation but the information fell to the two of them.

Hadrian paused while Tom asks curiously, “Do we know who?”

“There’s rumours it’s a strong wizard called Neville. We don’t have a family name,” Abraxas informed him.

“Does that sound familiar to anybody?” Tom asks, glancing around.

“I sounds vaguely familiar,” Cantankerus Nott responds, tapping his chin thoughtfully while glancing at Thaddeus who shook his head. “I can’t recall where from at this point in time.”

“That’s okay,” Tom responds.

“Hadrian,” Arcturus asks curiously and Hadrian watches everyone look at him. Even his brother looks confused. “Do you know this alleged figure?”

“As Mr Nott said, it sounds vaguely familiar,” he agrees. Arcturus’s eyes narrow before turning his attention elsewhere. Tom was looking at him sharply now.

Hadrian feels a weight settle on his lap and Ekkathion peeked over to retrieve the scraps of fat that Hadrian hadn’t eaten.

Hadrian observes everyone around him as the conversation fell away with nothing absolutely urgent to attend to. Orion leant in to his ear and mutters,

“You know something.”

“I know many things,” he responds vaguely. Reinhard, Radolphus and Euphrodite were sitting on the opposite end of the table from Arcturus and didn’t seem to have any new information. Aiden and his mother were quietly conversing with Abraxas and his father and Hadrian prods at his food.

Lucretia was nowhere to be seen but that was to be expected. She hated this kind of thing and held a special despise for Orion and Hadrian but his mother was also missing, which was odd.

“Where’s mother?” He asks.

“She was invited to France by the Delacours,” Arcturus states calmly. Picking at his food.

He felt concern worm in his gut. Something to not ignore.

“By who?” He asks.

“Apolline’s mother,” Euphrodite answers and Radolphus glances at his wife in confusion. “I do believe she was invited to tea.”

“Delightful I’m sure,” he replies dryly. Though he didn’t like that she was alone, unguarded without any of them. He picks at his nails underneath the table in agitation. “Is there anyone with her?”

“Walburga and Irma went with her,” Arcturus replies. “To learn etiquette I believe. The three of them are plenty enough to defend themselves.” Hadrian dips his head slowly, his hesitancy clearly showing how much he didn’t believe that and returned to his food when a hand was once again placed on his knee. He finishes what’s on his plate and Arcturus enquires, “What have you been researching recently Hadrian?” Hadrian finishes his glass of water first.

“Warfare strategy.”

“Taken an interest to it have you? Magical warfare strategy is a very complex and mostly theoretical subject.” Cantankerus asks curiously.

“I’ve taken an interest in Alexander the Great,” he says tightly, observing Cantankerus who seems to grimace before fixing himself.

“A muggle I assume?” Euphrodite asks, looking curiously at Hadrian though her tone was sharp. As if judging every word coming from Hadrian’s mouth.

“The King of Macedonia and Hegemon of the League of Corinth, Pharaoh of Egypt, King of Persia and Lord of Asia. More than just a muggle ,” he responds, each title having more of a bite to it than the last.

“Hadrian,” Arcturus says tightly. “Mind your manners.”

Though the words seemed to have had zero effect on Euphrodite, Radolphus or Septimus Malfoy anyway. Cantankerus had seemed initially withdrawn but now the titles had been listed- seemed curious to learn of such a great figure.

“I’m sure whatever he did was great- by muggle standards.” Hadrian gives her a flat glare. All emotion but hatred and anger filling him. Reinhard hissed into his mothers ear furiously something he didn’t hear and he stands.

“May I be excused father?” He asks calmly, a quietness in the room descending. Arcturus looks at him for an extended moment.

“You may. I expect you with us for lunch tomorrow.” He stands, bows to the Lords and Lady’s in the room and leaves on swift feet, stopping in the hallway and the nearest worthless vase exploded while he stared Euphrodite down before disappearing into the hallway. Kreacher would clean it.

Ekkathion watches from his perch by the window. “ It didn’t go well then. ”

“ I will apologise to Reinhard later, ” he growls back. “ I will not have someone slandering one of the greatest figures in history just because he held no magic in his veins. He did more as a no-mag than any wizard has done with magic at their fingertips, ” he sneers. “ Who does she think she is? Does she not realise her name is Greek? Does she not know he and her share similar origins? Who let Wizards be so ignorant? Dividing ourself from muggles- while I hate them all- has forced them into ignorance. Blaise ignorance! ”

“ I can bite her, ” Ekkathion offers.

“ She’s Reinhard’s mother and I already threatened her as I left. ” Ekkathion exhales, some embers floating from his nostrils.

“ What a tragedy. ” He snorts and picks up Ekkathion.

“ I have to wonder, if he’d lived past his thirties, what would he have made? ” The dragon curls up in his hands.

“ All the good men die young, ” Ekkathion answers honestly, his head craned up to look up at Hadrian. “ It is the way of the strong with ambition. ”

“ Then I wonder what fate awaits me. ” Ekkathion hums.

“ You’re only twenty four, you have a while to go yet .” He hums in agreement.

“ If it’s spent in pain I don’t want it. ” Ekkathion blinks and then grins a toothy smile.

“ All love has pain, but there is beauty in that too. ” Hadrian smiles, sitting in his chair and Ekkathion curled up in his lap as he works through the files he has to before he moves to all the legislative stuff he has to do for the family and to keep quiet from Mactator.

He dozes away at some point in the early hours of dawn and feels a simple kiss to his brow and something heavy placed around his shoulders.

He lets out a long sigh, allowing his worries to melt away just for sleep and found comfort in his dreams.

Chapter Text

‘Astra inclinant, sed non obligant’

The stars incline us, they do not bind us.

Orion had gone to collect an item of clothing from Hadrian and Tom’s study for Tom when he’d spotted a lose floor panel on the bookcase since it didn’t go all the way to the floor.

Everything in him whispered not to open it- not to ruin the room that had been perfectly left. With oak floors and black painted walls with dark wood backings- the oak desk and the perfectly arranged inks and pens-

Nothing had been changed in this room until moments ago when Orion had disturbed the closet that held a few bits and pieces in it.

His curiosity bests him and he kneels, prying the old thing off and discovering a box. A curious thing. Thirty centimetres long and wide and twenty tall.

He pulls it out slowly.

Was this something Tom had hidden or Hadrian? This was predominantly Hadrian’s study so he was more inclined towards the latter as he pulled the lid off entirely and froze.

The file on top was one Hadrian had frequently carried around. It had been blank, with no name but had been worn at the edges from carrying and usage. He pulls out the thick folder and holds Hadrian’s entire life of research in his hands. The very thing they’d feared the enemy had taken- the very thing they knew Hadrian protected earnestly- was right here in his hands.

Solid. Complete- and it was still warm. A stasis spell?

Was he- he felt himself tear up at the last dying warmth of his brothers hands- the papers warmed by a sun that couldn’t be seen today, on such a snowy day. He could imagine those callused hands holding his for one last time, or pointing at him in laughter- or helping him get up from a fight. Those hands that tended to each and every one of Orion’s injuries meticulously.

He rubs the files and sits on the floor like he was a boy all over again.

He misses his brother like the snow misses the sun- even if it destroys itself to be in the presence of its warmth again.

He takes a deep breath, opening the file.

Brother what were you looking for?

…

And he get’s his answer. A name that had haunted Orion, evaded him for years- stared back at him. There’s a whole part of the file dedicated to him- and Hadrians handwriting is as neat as ever, carefully assembled within carefully procured pages of fine paper. Spellbound so thoroughly that Orion had no idea what would kill him or why he could even read it.

But he reads and his horror only slowly mounts.

Neville.

Hadrian had said he didn’t know. That is sounded familiar-

He’d lied.

The first entry was when they were still in Hogwarts. It didn’t make much sense. It sounded more like the aftermath of a nightmare more than anything else- it sounded like Hadrian had seen the future briefly, again. Or that was about as much as he could make out of it.

There was more and more gathered thoughts and evidence as Hadrian grew older, as if he was outgrowing the shock he had seen.

Is this the man that killed Hadrian? Is this the man that killed his brother? The man they hadn’t been able to ever find? The man that he couldn’t track- couldn’t find any information on? The nightmare they’d so desperately been chasing only to lose it?

But why? Why go after Hadrian and not Tom? Why Hadrian and not Orion? Or Abraxas? Or any of the other Knights?

He pulls that inner file out and sets it aside, sifting through the rest of it. Ancient runes- long studies of things like ‘The Effect of Latinate Origin Languages on Magic’ all the way to ‘Muggle warfare techniques that could aid Magical Battle Tactics’. He even saw an obscure one called, ‘The Study of Linear and Nonlinear Time’. There were long thesis of these studies he had conducted and references from books he’d never heard nor seen but the books no doubt lay around him right now. There were drawings of battle formations- battle plans- and mentions of a study again and again and again- a secret one, near the Black Manor.

There was even an entry- a reminder to himself no doubt.

Need to go back under the study again tonight.

Orion stared at pictures of the Knights all together- in front of a fire with fire whiskeys and grins for days- It wasn’t attached- as if Hadrian needed to keep a photo of them to look at when these topics became too burdensome.

He did have a habit of having one of their possessions around at all times. He’s never been quite sure why. It was just something that he’d had ever since he’d been a kid with Orion. He recalls Hadrian stealing one of Orions necklaces when Orion went on a trip with a friend. He’d been angry, before Hadrian explained that it reminded him of Orion when he missed him.

He’d let him take what he’d needed after that.

He tries to hold back the tears and fails miserably. He pushes the file and photo away as tears ran down his face.

God damn you…

He can’t breathe. So many hidden things- what else had he been hiding? What else had been happening?

He rubs his eyes with a cloth, grabs the files to show Tom and everyone else before wondering if there was an entrance to this study. If it’s underneath the manor- they don’t really have a basement so was it beneath the ground itself in the old caverns that Arcturus used to tell them had been blocked up on both ends?

“Kreacher?” He calls and the old elf pops in. He gazes at him and then crouches at the elf that looked around the room in reminisce. “Kreacher where is Hadrian’s secret study.” Kreacher crosses his arms, sniffing.

“I shall not reveal the Young Masters secrets.”

“Kreacher,” Orion says desperately. “I really need to see if he knew anything- I need revenge on the person who killed him. I need to see what he knew.” Kreacher hesitates, ears drooping. He’s a loyal elf- he doesn’t want to- but he wants revenge all the same.

Kreacher offered a hand and Orion grabs the old elf gently- and then they apparate and the smell of parchment and ink is quick to permeate the air. Clearly the air has not been refreshed in a long while. He feels for candles with his magic or a source of light and finds a few lanterns and lights them, a warm orange glow bleeding across the room as the flame grows.

But he gazes around the room in shock- and slow mortifying horror.

There’s maps- strings, pins, images, notes- papers- bookcases filled with information- a desk with a small nest on one of the many shelves in front of it- lanterns everywhere and melted candles of varying lengths, boxes and crates filled with unknown things. There were dusty books left open, a bag left behind- and a painting- he jerks at the two green eyes actually staring at him, letting out a startled yelp.

The old man doesn’t seem that offended, but seemed rather curious.

“You are not Hadrian,” the man rasps. “Though you look quite similar… Orion, I presume?” He looks at him closely and then his eyes widened.

“I suppose my name is Orion, though I suppose more importantly yours is Salazar Slytherin.” The man inclines his head slightly.

“That is my name that I was given. I must say, it’s been a long while since someone visited me since Hadrian’s passing.” He blinks at the painting.

“How could you know that?”

“When a man who came here nearly every night suddenly disappears forever, I think it is safe to conclude he has died,” Salazar says quietly, observing Orion. “He spoke of you often.” Orion swallows thickly. A person who knew more of Hadrian?

Orion found himself desperate for Salazar’s words- his subtle praise.

“Did he?” Orion asks, putting the files down on the crate.

“He spoke of everyone often. He worried, a lot.” Salazar observes the room that hadn’t changed in more than thirty years. “He worried when you were all away because he couldn’t be there to protect you. He worried when he was alone because he was scared he’d die alone without anyone there.” Orion wanted to cry then.

Because he had. Hadrian had died alone- marred and ruined and broken and bloody and bleeding and cold.

Orion had to steady himself against the boxes and wiped at his eyes and nose that just kept running. Every second he thought of his brother he wanted to cry, he wanted to mourn again and he wanted to grieve the loss of someone so great he couldn’t be replaced, the hole filled or his yawning pit of his loss healed.

“What else did he say?”

“He spoke about a group called Mactator a lot, a group of people he controlled to go against them subtly. That was what he feared the most actually. It’s on the board directly above the desk on the right.” Orion tenderly stepped towards the cork board filled with notes, pictures- a detailed map of the British Isles- and hideouts.

Marked allies and enemies- green for allies and red for enemies.

Orion stared- and stared and inhaled sharply.

Had there ever been that many enemies? There had been many at Hadrians death but this overwhelming?

He notices the positions of the allies north of them and turns to the file he’d brought in, turning to military strategy- single envelopment. A distraction on the left flank and the right flank held the most powerful and charged like a hammer and anvil- a common Alexander the Great strategy that worked well.

Only- Alexander hadn’t died in the battle.

The hideouts were mentioned- and it included Potters safe house. Hadrian’s old outpost.

There were other groups, distracted by strategies he quickly discovered Hadrian had been using at least five different strategies at the same time. Indirect approach- using a small amount of troops to distract the enemy only for the larger amount of troops to come in from a hidden area and attack the enemy on the rear. Also using encirclement to an extent. Feigned retreat- all of this was on the left flank. On the bottom flank, through Liverpool, Manchester, Leeds and York, they formed an oblique order wall. Impassible for the enemies that numbered greatly in southern England. The Black Manor resided in Stirling, not far outside of Edinburgh and Glasgow. Had Hadrian secretly been pushing back the enemy-

“He fought hard for you all,” Salazar says quietly from the painting, filling this haunted space. “I don’t think there was one night where he didn’t wait for a letter from those he commanded. Something that came with some good news. We pushed them back. It usually came with bad news though. Like a commander had died, they’d lost fifty men and… well you can imagine I suppose.”

“Do you know why he didn’t tell us?”

“Because the man that designed Mactator,” Salazar says quietly, “is the same person he knew none of you, barring perhaps a boy named Riddle, could beat. His name was Neville and if there was a night I didn’t hear him cursing him to hell and back, I’d let you know.”

“Wait- wait- Neville was the leader of Mactator?” Orion asks in disbelief. He opens the file and suddenly realises why it’s such a thick heavy bound file. It’s got all the projects Mactator has ever tried- Nevilles inclusion in it.

“He was a necromancer. He hardly ever referred to him by name. Just Mancer. I can suspect Mancer is where the idea of Mactator might have originated from.”

“We could have helped-”

“I do believe Mr Black had a personal vendetta against him and didn’t want any of you involved,” Salazar intervenes smoothly. “There were nights he thought about it and then something would prove he couldn’t. It was too risky and the operations in the long run, were going well.”

“When did it go wrong?” Orion asks quietly.

“There was a battle you all participated in,” Salazar explains. “Something went wrong I remember. There was someone there that wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“Grindelwald,” Orion breathes. “Grindelwald was there.” Salazar nods.

“That’s who he mentioned. Grindelwald caused some disturbances within Mactator and so Hadrian helped Dumbledore lock Grindelwald up permanently in Nuremberg. But he had his back turned to his operations for a bit- the last night I saw him he knew. I’ve never seen such fire in the eyes of a man who knew he wasn’t going to come home.”

Orion bites his hand to stop himself, futilely, from crying. He wants to cry- he wants to cry so badly it actually hurts. He wants to shout at Hadrian- he wants to cry at the unfairness of it all.

But he’s beyond crying like that, so he wipes his tears and observes the papers- unopened letters but knew he’d already invaded his brothers privacy enough. He would report it first. Then they’d decide what to do with it.

“There was a patronus in here a few nights ago,” Salazar says suddenly. “A dragon of sorts. It left something in Ekkathion’s nest.”

“Right, you speak parseltongue too don’t you,” Orion remembers, walking to the nest and feeling it- before his hands lock onto a stick.

“I do,” Salazar huffs in amusement. “What is it?”

Orion slowly pulls out the Elder Wand and knew whose Patronus that was.

“Salazar,” Orion asks quietly. “Who was my brother to you?” A lengthy silence as Orion keeps his eyes fixated on the wand.

“He was a great friend, as smart a wizard I’ve ever met and someone who carried a great burden on his shoulders that I felt compelled to help him bear.” Orion stares at the wand for a long time.

He knew that. He’d always known that. Whether it was the future, Mactator, Grindelwald or the ministry. There was always some larger issue hanging over his head.

“I wish he’d just had a chance to live. With me and our family.”

“He was a wizard born for war,” Salazar says, his voice distant. “But your brother wasn’t corrupted by the dangers he had faced. Rather you and your friends all settled something in him. I think he found his calling too. He just never got a chance to put it together.”

“Yeah well,” Orion grabs the files, sitting down at the desk with a sigh, not intending to move for a while. “There was a lot of things he never got the chance to do.”

There was a long silence and he hears the drip of something somewhere, but he won’t follow the sound. Not yet.

“I think he would have wanted me to tell this to you,” Salazar says carefully. Slowly. Orion glances up at him. “Be careful what you find in here. There are secrets old as time themselves and there are dangerous decoded manuscripts and grimoires. There is also the map of the future that he created. Based off of what he knew and what he could predict. But there was always a fear, inside of him. That the future would revert back to the way it was meant to be.” Orion pulls out the Study of Time thesis and looks over it.

“But the future hasn’t been decided yet, has it?”

“For him it has. The small events don’t matter. Just the overall things need to stick to a line. Or so that’s what he said. But time is tricky and he spent many hours agonising over it. Those are the nights he was the most volatile. I have to assume it must have been the nights you saw him most upset as well.”

Orion remembers one night, in their twenties…

Cutlery clattered against porcelain and Orion watches his brother, his eyes fixated almost permanently on the steak and his fork tapped against the plate.

Orion suspected he didn’t even know he was doing it but he saw mother getting frustrated, the small crease in her brow appearing and father seemed to observe Hadrian for a long moment. Lucretia was quietly sipping at her goblet, eyes flicking to Orion and raising an unassuming brow.

“Hadrian,” Arcturus says quietly and Hadrian pauses, glancing up. “What have you been up to?”

No one had asked why Hadrian looked like he’d been dragged through the dungeons and tortured all night because he hadn’t brought it up. Aside from being quieter than usual- there was nothing off with him.

So Orion didn’t expect the bomb to go off.

“Nothing,” Hadrian growls, stabbing the steak and Melania inhales sharply.

“Hadrian Morden Black you will eat with respect and uphold our dignity.” Orion winced and returned to his own food. Melania didn’t usually get angry, but she was a pureblood who held her own ideals. A pureblood who loved her sons and daughter greatly but wouldn’t tolerate when they did something she considered it an insult for. “Do I need to go over manners with a seventeen year old or can you control yourself-”

As it turned out from the blast of magic that poured from Hadrian unwittingly- he could not.

Black hair floated around him and eyes were glowing green with fury- pure, unrepressed fury and the room became very- very cold.

He didn’t say anything though. He stared his mother down and blue magic erupted from Arcturus to protect his wife. It was something burbling and calming but at the same time domineering- Orion was going to have a mutilating headache after this.

“That’s enough Hadrian,” Lucretia scolds from opposite Orion. “Mother didn’t do anything.” The magic retreated all at once and father, in a controlled matter, also pulled his back and all returned to normal.

Though nobody started eating immediately again.

Orion gazes at his brother and wonders what has got him so on edge. “Is it your NEWT’s coming up?” He asks doubtfully. His brother snorts in amusement- and then it turns into full blown, uncontrollable laughter. It sounds derided, sardonic and regretful all at once.

Hadrian runs a hand through his hair through his laughter, gripping and pulling like it would ground him. Orion reaches out and set’s a hand on his shoulder and the man only sighs, the laughter ending.

Any further than this and Melania looked like she’d send him to St Mungo’s herself.

“Permission for us to leave father?” Arcturus eyes his eldest son with something akin to worry.

“Granted.” He drags Hadrian up and out the door.

“Don’t drag me around,” he hisses at Orion and he ignores him. “Orion, let. Go .” Orion only tightened his grip and shoved him into a one of the rooms and turned on him.

“What happened?” Green eyes peer through the gloom, glancing at the door and Orion steps in front of it, crossing his arms. He fully intended for Hadrian to answer his question.

“I haven’t slept, that’s all. Now move .” Orion cocks his head.

“Should I call Riddle over?” He watches his brother stiffen imperceptibly and shot him a glare.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Orion snorts.

“I wouldn’t dare Hadrian? Mother looked like she was going to send you to St Mungo’s or Azkaban.” He watches Hadrian’s jaw clench and knows his brother is more than infuriated by him right now. He only hopes he won’t resort to hexes or jinxes. Though he’s comforted by the fact the Trace means Hadrian can’t curse him to oblivion and back.

“Orion,” his brother says deathly quiet. “Move out of my fucking way or I swear to Merlin I’m going to take you half way to hell myself.”

There were several things Orion knew about his brother. When he was enraged and as volatile as this- he wasn’t always aware of what he was doing or the effect what his actions did. Therefore- he completely and fully understood that he would.

Orion stepped to the side and Hadrian slammed the door on his way out, disappearing angrily down the hallway.

“Yes well…” It hadn’t been a memory Orion had wanted to uncover. “I always assumed it was just him overworking himself. I suppose it was a fear instead.”

He sat down slowly, clasping his hands together. What was he supposed to tell everyone else? Should he? Should he wait until it was time to bring it up?

Riddle would probably murder him.

He looks at the face that had killed his brother-

“Neville.”

Chapter Text

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the memory of Fleamont Potter, the Lord of the Potter family,” Dumbledore said from outside the room. Hadrian stood next to a coffin- precisely arranged white hydrangeas, roses, daisies, Lillies and a spattering of white lupin.

His face is destroyed- his chest is open but a stasis charm is keeping everything in place- everything solid and in place.

He keeps a hand on Fleamont’s arms- because his hands were missing. His splintered wand is placed on his sternum and he’s more or less dressed in white- Hadrian filled his chest cavity with red flowers to show his life- to show he had had a heart. Roses, dianthus’, zinnia, Dalia and poppies.

“A grandfather, a father, a friend- a coworker, a student, but- a loving man, dedicated to his craft.” It was all distant- a slight ringing in his ears.

He whispers quietly, to his corpse- for privacy. Words for only his soul to hear. “I made sure Death took care of your soul… hopefully you’ll enjoy the everlasting peace.” He strokes his friends arm and remembered when Fleamont used to do the same whenever his thoughts became too much during Potions or while they worked together on the family business. “I’m sorry that peace had to come at the expense of this torture.”

He didn’t realised how old his friend had grown- the beard- the grey hairs-

Fleamont was old. If he’d been younger- like the gift he’d given the triarii, would he have survived for longer?

“Forgive me my friend… for being the source of your agony. If I could have come back sooner I would have. Time is a fickle thing…” He pulls a green chrysanthemum out of his breast pocket and places it within the red- letting it stand out. Death and rebirth-

He rubs at his red eyes.

Seeing the damage had been something else from imagining it. So much, a human could physically endure. More than he should have had to-

“Others are going to come and visit you now,” he whispers quietly. “Nicholas Flamel misses you. Minerva is devastated. I know you two were close friends- really close friends.” He leans over the edge of the coffin. He leans in- right to Fleamont’s ear. “Testor in omnia mea, et vindicate te.” I swear by my life. I will avenge you.

He lets go of Fleamont’s arm, taking one look at his Grandfather before he leaves to the Potter Family burial site right outside the old mansion- neglected, old. Fleamont hadn’t stepped foot in it after the death of his parents and had gone elsewhere.

The burial was under a great weeping willow on a hill- surrounded by old stones on the old moorlands and buildings long since collapsed. The magic was intense here- focused. As if the earth had felt Fleamont’s death and the dead cried out for him.

He walks to the back of the funeral venue where chairs were laid out, a large photo of Fleamont currently acting as a replacement for the body. He looks over the people who’d come-

Minerva was at the front- being consoled by Pamona. Even Mr Lovegood and Luna had come. Lord Malfoy, Lord Lestrange, Lord Avery, Lord Nott and-

His breath caught as he spotted his brother. With Regulus, Sirius, Hayes and an unfamiliar woman. It must be Regulus’s wife.

He drags his gaze away from Orions outline and spots old acquaintances of Fleamont he’d seen sometimes whenever they wandered the halls in Hogwarts.

“Can I now ask young Hadrian James Potter to please give a few words.”

Heads swivel his way, tears and agony in many of the faces- jeez even Reinhard looks effected.

He steps up onto the podium, staying quiet for a few minutes as he gathered his thoughts.

He could feel his new friends watching him-

“I know many of those in front of me know my Grandfather better than perhaps I do,” Hadrian says quietly, but the sonorous allowed for his words to reach everyone. The tree swayed behind him- as if to comfort him. “Some of you will know his stubbornness better than others, some of you will know his love for potion making- and hair.” A few chuckles at the wry joke of the Sleekeazy’s hair potion. “I know others will know that he was very loyal to his family and friends. Others will perhaps have met their match on the duelling fields.” He looks at the papers before him. Staring at them. “I have been told, that on November 29th, 1994, my grandfather met his match in France.”

Sharp inhales all around. Nobody had told them how Fleamont had died. That was Hadrian’s information to divulge. He glances at Dumbledore who gives him a comforting smile. So much black today. So much death-

A caw and Death came to rest on the branch of the willow behind him.

“My grandfather didn’t pass away because of health issues or the rumoured dragon pox. Fleamont Potter was murdered on the Potter Family Mansion in France by a terrorist group called Mactator.” Horrified whispers travelled around the gathered nobility- he sees the triarii physically react- a jerk, a head whipping to look at another- “I’m telling you this so that those that go to see his body after this- will not be unprepared.” He sees horror in their eyes.

He finds his hand is trembling as he explains, “I have contacted the French Ministry and their Aurors and Unspeakable’s are investigating the group on their end and our own Unspeakable’s and Aurors have been informed and are currently attempting to maintain control.” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “My grandfather fought boldly and valiantly. He was a good man and I hope death can be kinder than man has been. I hope we can all remember a great man, a friend, an ally, a supporter- His memory will live on as I do. His legacy will live on and I hope we can lay his soul to rest.” Death whistles from the tree, observing the crowd. “Those who wish to see my grandfather before we lay him to rest can do so but only immediate friends will be seen first. Thank you.” He steps back and the room claps.

Nicholas stands with his wife, Minerva stands with Dumbledore, the triarii stands- he makes eye contact with Hayes who stares after him as he leads them to mansion. He steps inside and Nicholas comes in with his wife first-

And nearly collapses at the sight.

“Merlins beard, my friend!” Nicholas cries out, seeing his mutilated friend. “Fleamont! No-” he hears the mans wails- full of awful anguish. Perenelle looked horrified at the body. When the time came- he gently led him to the guest room to grieve and when Minerva came in- he stepped out. Knowing as a teacher, she wouldn’t want to break down in front of him.

So he listens to Dumbledore and Pamona try and support her before they leave- leaving Minerva to say her last goodbyes. There was something horrifying about it. He listens to her try and comfort his soul before she leaves. He stays when the triarii came in together. Not the children- not his friends. But Abraxas, Reinhard, Thaddeus, Avery and Orion.

They looked at him before a sharp inhale from Reinhard had them looking at the coffin.

“Bloody merlin…” They whispered things to Fleamont, soft things- soothing things.

He doesn’t expect Aiden to walk over and stand beside him as he observes the others. He glances at him and focuses back on the coffin.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Hadrian takes a deep breath and murmurs,

“Thanks for putting your… grievances aside to say goodbye.” He glances into dimmed eyes that glance back to Fleamont.

“We don’t have grievances with you. Per say. It was just a foolish prophecy. It was our fault for believing in it.” Hadrian pops his finger joints in distraction, thinking of what was to come.

“Thank you, Lord Avery.” The man sent him a wry grin.

“I’ll do my best to help hunt down those that did this. We are as much in danger as Lord Potter was.” He sighs.

“It’s given me a lot of things to do before Christmas. I’m surprised the Headmaster even let me out of school.”

Aiden chuckles lowly. “Yes, how did you do it?”

“Guilt-tripping,” he says with a dead face- before the two of them break into grins. “That aside, he did it on conditions that I brought him here.” He looks away. “And well… I’ve been given a week so long as I take a bodyguard.”

“Do you have one?”

“Viktor Krum form Durmstrang,” Hadrian replies honestly. “Headmaster Dumbledore and Karkaroff both agreed it would be good for him to learn more about the British wizarding word.”

“Viktor Krum,” Thaddeus muses, hearing their conversation. “My son did mention him. He’s the Durmstrang Champion is he not?”

“Yes, Lord Nott.”

“Am I the only one with a grandson?” Orion asks with a frown.

“Yes,” Aiden says blandly. “Regulus just had lots to love clearly.” Orion rolls his eyes.

Actually- yes- Regulus would have had to have been… eighteen? Perhaps?

Hadrian shakes his head. “I’m sorry Your Graces but there’s others…”

“Of course,” Orion says quickly, dragging them all out before pausing at the door. “For what it’s worth Mr Potter, he is gone but never forgotten.”

“Many aren’t forgotten,” Hadrian replies with a slight smile. “But thank you Lord Black.”

Others came and there was much the same reaction- shock, horror- pity for Hadrian. Hayes, Draco, Theodore and Blaise all came last. Theodore patted Hadrian’s shoulder- Blaise gave him a hug, Hayes squeezed his shoulders and Draco asked if he was alright.

He replied no.

When they were all done- they stood around the newly dug hole and sealed his coffin shut-

Hadrian had placed an enchantment on that flower he’d placed in- one that would burn the body and everything inside. So there was nothing to summon. No body to disgrace on Neville’s part.

Watching the dirt fill in was a different sort of agony. Hadrian tried to remember his face- and the images were already blurring.

Viktor arrived afterwards and acted as a stand in bodyguard- Dumbledore offered to take him back to Hogwarts- he declined. Minerva still needed consoling and everyone left flowers on the grave- before leaving afterwards.

Hadrian and Viktor were the only ones left at some point.

“Mactator made vis personal,” Viktor says gruffly.

“Yes. They did.” Hadrian gazed up at the sky for a long minute. Fourteen days left until Christmas. Two weeks. “I fully intend to pay them back for this- and there is one very easy way of doing so.” He offered his hand and Viktor took it as he apparated to Diagon and they walked straight to Gringotts. He felt Viktor looking around. “Is it different up there?”

“Vere is nothing like vis, no. It is more like Hogsmeade.” He nods as they walk up the stairs and skip the line- again. Ragnok lets him in to a private office immediately.

“I can assume you know what I have come to ask.” The goblin gazes at Hadrian with a sharp glance.

“Of course, Lord Potter. Shall we make the information public?”

“I’d rather you made it as public as possible,” Hadrian responds. The goblin pulls out a gold ring, emblazoned with the family crest to be able to seal enveloped or important papers. It had been recovered from the scene, thankfully- and Hadrian slipped it on, feeling it reform to his finger and a notion of calmness and clarity. Like the ring was trying to get him to see clearly and remain focused-

So this is what it meant to be a Potter. How different from being a Black. How different indeed.

“All the paperwork can be completed now. Would you like to seize all your vaults and backup vaults?”

“I do,” he says firmly as Ragnok pulls out paperwork, filled with information. He spends a few hours critically combing each investment, property and item he owns. When he’s sure he’s got a rough idea- he takes it all. It’s all under his name, under his control- under his power. “I want to pay for a professional warder to reward all my properties.”

“Goblin wards I assume?”

“Of course.”

“Twice the payment,” Ragnok warns.

Hadrian gives him a look. “I expect nothing less. Should it be… four thousand galleons? The goblin raises a brow.

“Royal wards Lord Potter?”

“It’s the only set of wards I trust Ragnok. Can I trust you?” The goblin grins.

“Of course Your Grace. It shall be done before the week is out.”

Hadrian smirks. “You already know what I want to hear Ragnok.”

“Shall I assume you will be rising to your position as Lord after the Tournament has ended?”

“I have decided I will not be staying correct. You may still email me by owl all the information I should need. I will set up residence after I leave so I can maintain it full time.”

“Of course,” Ragnok hands him all the files. “This is all that Fleamont left you and everything he left…” a glance at Viktor and Hadrian grins- teeth and all.

“I understand plenty Ragnok. I am incredibly grateful for everything.” He stands and the goblin shakes his hand with a surprisingly firm grip.

“May your Lordship be strong and prosperous.”

“And may Gringotts stay tall and powerful.” The Goblin puffs his chest out in pride and the two wizards leave.

“I feel like you have been a lord before,” Viktor says curtly.

“I’ve been an active heir before.”

“To which house?” Hadrian doesn’t respond as they walk out and Hadrian spots an auror waiting in the doorway. He knew he’d have to make a statement at the Ministry, he didn’t think it would be this soon though.

“Mr Potter,” the auror says, spotting them. “Can I have a moment?”

“I’m going to assume you need more than a few,” he responds dryly, walking over. The auror gives him an apologetic smile.

“Unfortunately Mr Potter. As the last surviving member of the Potter House, a falling house, there are many who want to know what you will do next and what your plans are. Whether you plan to merge with another family or liquidate the Potter families Lordship altogether.” He stares at the auror.

“Do not insult me,” he replies with as much politeness as he can muster at the offensive statement. “My house will not fall. Shall I assume they want that statement now?”

“They have given you tow weeks,” the auror says slowly. “A statement is to be released to the press before Christmas.” He nods curtly.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, thank you for your time.” Hadrian steps past the auror and descends into Diagon Alley. He rotates the ring around his finger and glances into Knockturn- and spots Count De Ville. He turns and walks right into the alley, ignoring the odd looks he receives and the Count steps into an alley. Hadrian follows, motioning to Viktor to wait and slips into the alley.

“I am going to assume your in need of… your status,” Dracula drawls, red eyes looking down at him and his fangs gleamed in the low light.

“What I need is my patronus and I can’t find it anywhere,” Hadrian growls lowly. “It can only be in a few places but I think it’s learned to wander.”

“As is the way of sentient magic,” Dracula replies gravely, then smirks. “Are you in need of immortality-”

“I already have that,” Hadrian responds sharply. “No vampirism for me thank you.” The count blinks before returning to that smirk.

“You intrigue me more every time I meet you.”

“That sounds awfully similar to what someone else told me.” Hadrian looks at Dracula sharply. “You know what I need back. I gave it to you for safe keeping but I’m now thoroughly in need of it.” The vampire chuckles before reaching up to his neck and unclasping the blood pact- and the moment it touched Hadrian’s hand, it tightened around his skin, slithering and moving on it’s own- tightening and loosening as if it wasn’t quite sure what to make of his thoughts. He clasps the red pendant in his hand and feels Toms magic and an older version of Hadrian’s magic. A magic he had to find.

He puts it to his lips and inhales and exhales in relief. The cool metal against his skin made it clear what he had to do- where he belonged.

It wasn’t in Hogwarts that was for sure.

“I’ll be missing it, it made quite good company,” Dracula muses. “Though you’ll be pleased to know it divulged no secrets.”

“Your blood reading ability is most certainly… unique, but it’s good to know. I don’t suppose you could keep an eye out for someone?” Count De Ville cocks his head.

“For a price. It also depends on who this person is.”

“Mancer. He’s also a necromancer.”

“Creative,” the vampire drawls but his lips twitch up. “Nonetheless I think that is payment enough. I shall look into it.”

“No teaming up with him.” The vampire snorts.

“That’s offensive Mr Black.” Hadrian kicks the vampires leg but the man doesn’t react at all, instead smirking slightly. “I suppose our paths will cross again soon.” The man turns into a bat and flutters away.

He walks out and together, he and Viktor return to Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

Fleamont Potter’s Diary

December 25th 1963

My friend,

My dear, dear friend… where do I even begin? It’s been three years now, I suppose. I swear I can still hear you cajoling me over the potions in that strange voice of yours sometimes. Bloody Merlin, without you helping me I’m still making all those mistakes from those old habits you tried to help me with. I was going to send you a Christmas Gift this year- I finally found that original book you wanted. On the Ancient Magic of the Mediterranean. You seemed so dearly invested in it. I understand that your family may have brushed it off but both of us seem to have our unique hobbies.

We have a son! I know, I know. It’s very late I’m aware. We named him James and Merlin he’s a crier. He’s gotten better but I think you would have liked him very much. He’s very fond of Euphemia and she’s delighted to finally have a son to dote on. Much to her delight he seems fascinated with animals and not at all interested in Potions. He seems intent on trying to eat what is on and around my work bench so my dearest banned me from having him in the lab. Probably wisely.

I am, however, still struggling.

I never expected to have to raise James on my own Hades. You always vowed to help me with my family- to be there for Euphemia and I- and James was born- and you died.

You were dead. No- there’s no were. You are dead. You are gone and no potion can reverse that.

Euphemia has her friends- her family- they’re all still alive. Father died a few years ago and I don’t know what to do. Tom hasn’t visited once. Orion has. To see your Godson. He’s inconsolable Hadrian. None of them are. They’re all gone.

Euphemia says I’m similar. But I do try and be a present father- I don’t purposefully tuck myself away. I cook dinners- with those recipes you taught me actually. That book you put together for that one Christmas when I ruined the potatoes remember? It’s helped me and Euphemia a lot actually. They’re easy recipes, especially when dealing with a particularly fussy two and a half year old. I brew pain killers and sleep potions too- I also made a kind of diffuser that safely allows James to breathe in the sleeping effects if he just won’t sleep. It’s a last defence kind of thing but we both invented that for people who were susceptible to not waking up when directly digested-

Ah there I go again. I’m sorry, I lost my train of thought.

I̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶

No. No I do miss you. I miss you a lot-

I’m looking into the man who killed you Hadrian.

I want revenge.

I want to ask the man who killed you, Why? Why would you do it? What did you do?

I want to run him through with a flesh eating poison and watch him writhe-

I’m angry. I’m angry and I can’t stop.

I’m scared I’ll hurt Euphemia or James- Filius reached out to me and I’ve joined a duelling club again. It’ll keep me on my toes I suppose.

Septimus is keeping his distance, again. As always.

Orion hasn’t dropped by in a while- it’s comforting to see him but he isn’t you.

He isn’t you and you’re not him and it’s all a mess Hades.

Come back home. Please.

January 15th 1964

Hey Hades. Been a while.

Sleekeazy is doing really well. Of course it is. You helped make it…

James is doing well- Euphemia is worried-

I miss you.

March 21st 1964.

Euphemia is making me join a friend group. She thinks I’ve been too solitary. The world is a bit of a mess. Toms gone on a rampage Hadrian. All the incompetent aurors slaughtered- some of the ministry officials targeted and lots of muggle friendly groups.

He’s furious.

I’m tempted to join him.

I found our tree today. Where we used to go to feed deer at the park on days when we couldn’t think straight? Well… It’s been a long time but they remembered me and seemed to be looking for you. We always went together.

They seemed to know, they stuck around.

Ekkathion’s corpse was found. It was nothing but bones now though. I’m not sure anyone will do with it- but I think they’ll probably bury it.

I asked you to come back Hadrian.

What’s taking you so long?

September 16th 1971.

James is attending Hogwarts now, with Orions son, Sirius. We saw each other at the train station and talked briefly. I can’t say he seems happy with Walburga, Hadrian. He doesn’t look happy at all. I wish sincerely Lord Arcturus had put him with someone else. Anyone else. Aiden even. But he’s married too now. He has no sons though and I don’t suppose his marriage will last long either.

So many purebloods ruined Hadrian. It’s a silent war and the Ministry knows. It’s a boiling pot and no one is talking about it.

It’s been eleven years. Gods it feels like yesterday. I hope James can find himself at Hogwarts. He knows about you. I tell him every day of his Godfather.

He asks me every time-

What happened to him dad?

Every time I tell him-

I’ll tell you someday.

I can’t bear it. It’s too much. What do I tell him? That you were torn to pieces- dismembered, unrecognisable- murdered - slaughtered-

I’ve talked with Euphemia. She agrees that we shouldn’t have any more children. Even if it’s expected that we do, James will be our sole heir. I don’t doubt this will effect him. He’s already a little bit arrogant but Euphemia has tried to quash it as much as possible. He has a good heart though.

I’m officially in on hunting down Mactator with the aurors. Euphemia is scared for me but it’ll be okay. I’m ranking first equal with Filius in the duelling club. I’ll be helping the Unspeakable’s too, for a little bit. Earning a bit of experience.

I’ll see you soon Hades.

October 31st 1974

Well… we’re back here again Hades. Merlin I swear, I tried to put the diary away but when I’m in a bad place I always find myself back here. It feels like you’re listening sometimes. Like you’re here.

You were with me today, do you remember?

I took my first life today Hades. A man called John Marc. One of main terrorists in Mactator. He tore at my mind with legilimency. If not for you’re training I wouldn’t have made it today. Hah, he came across you in my head- and screamed, and screamed- and I won.

I suppose you helped me. Whatever your memory did- whatever the remnants of magic in my head that you possessed, tore him to bits. Maybe he looked death in the eye. Or looked through the veil-

It doesn’t matter. I killed John Marc and I understand now why you couldn’t stop fighting. It feels like I can’t return to that innocent world with Euphemia and James. They still feel like my sanctuary but not where I should be. It’s like they’re my weakness. Is that how you felt for me? I’m stronger now Hades. I can stand on my own.

I can fight on my own now. I’m working on learning more, developing more potions to strengthen my fighting advantages. I’ll write them down- I might patent them in the future. After this is all over.

James is doing well. He’s getting along really well with a boy called Remus and of course Sirius. The three are trouble makers but they complement each other well. Although I do get the occasional message from Minerva that James is bullying a boy called Severus Snape. It’s disheartening and I have to scold him for it and Euphemia points out why it’s wrong but Severus apparently only fuels the fire so it’s hard to really pin point whose at fault.

Riddle- there’s something wrong with him now. He’s gone down a hole trying to find your killers and I come into contact with him on occasion when I’m with the Unspeakable’s. He barely talks to me. I think it’s because I was your friend, not his.

Melania passed away, I’m sorry. I hope she found peace with you. Somehow. I think she was ill. Lucretia is ill, unable to conceive but it’s not a bother to Ignatius. They seem to be the only ones enjoying life. As harsh as it is, I don’t suppose she ever really loved you.

Er- Dippet died. A while ago. I suppose that’s late information I forgot to mention. Not that it mattered entirely.

What else… I suppose I should tell you what I’m doing. I came home and Euphemia was waiting on the doorstep as she always does. She burst into tears… my lovely wife, I apologise. I was covered in blood, sweat and dark magic. I must have scared her. But she brought me inside, made me potato top pie and healed my injuries. Nothing serious, I promise. She took my robes and washed them as we don’t have House Elves. Euphemia didn’t like that.

I’m fifty-three now. I feel old Hades. It’s been twenty-four years. Twenty-four. Still I haven’t gotten your revenge. Every year that passes, the more I feel incomplete. Like I haven’t done what I was meant to do.

I apologise for these short entries Hades. I’ve never been much of a writer and I do forget.

November 7th 1974

Their names were Nathan Elderwick, Kristen Mord, Janine Moorwan, Phillipa Prenetty and Lincoln Dunaliffe.

Do they sound familiar to you Hades? They should. They were your people. They were fighting for you. They said I was familiar to them- a friend of his . A friend of yours .

I found a memory of you. A memory I didn’t know. A memory no one but me knows.

Euphemia went to pick some tea up from Diagon Alley yesterday and I was called in by the Unspeakable’s.

They told me of a disturbance in Birmingham. I told him- Birmingham? We are in London.

He told me, it’s big. He told me I needed to go- so I did. With a group. They were all killed against Mactator but I was saved by a group- that group. We escaped to Coventry. They revealed who they were. Their names- what they did for you. Who you were. What they were doing- I told them who I was and they said they knew.

The Undead found us first. And I knew. I knew what killed you. I knew who killed you. That man we’d once talked about, briefly. You’d brought him up, and then seemed to regret it. Neville .

We came across him.

He was there- he knew me- and I’ve never seen someone so enraged to see me Hades. There was murder and death and they charged through the others to me- And in an act of sacrifice they killed themselves. Great, terrible, Dark Magic. The Offering. They destroyed the corpses and landed a big blow on him. On Mancer.

Then Unspeakable’s located me and he disappeared. There was nothing left of their bodies and tonight I’ve realised. I’ve realised you were much more than you seemed to be, that you lied, that you schemed to keep us safe-

And I hate you and I love you for it. If we’d all pooled our resources together, we could have killed him Hadrian. I’m certain. With Riddle- with Lestrange, with Nott and everyone else and me . Did you forget I was a Lord Hadrian? Did you forget I can still sway the Wizengamot? Did you forget I had power ?

But I know why you didn’t let us fight. why you were the only one. It’s the same reason why your body didn’t get up and walk away on it’s own.

He doesn’t want to control you. He can’t anyway. He can’t raise your body. But he wants you dead. Not controlled.

But we’re just weaknesses to use against you- and apparently I was a major one. He was going to kill me Hades- he almost did. Euphemia is terrified now, she’s sleeping on a chair beside me in St Mungos. The Unspeakable’s have come and gone and so have the Aurors. Minerva came around, so did Nicholas. Damaged organs and bones- depleted magic- I’ll be alright in a few months, I reckon.

Septimus came around- he scolded me thoroughly.

Orion came around.

I could have told him. I should have told him. But for the same reason you told nobody- so didn’t I. The last thing I want is to go out one night- and stumble across Orions deceased body confronting me. I don’t want to have to console Sirius or Regulus and explain what happened to him.

I understand now why you were so worried all the time. Why you burned the dead and didn’t just bury them.

It’s so much bigger than me, I don’t understand what he wants now. I don’t understand why he’s still going. Your dead, what more does he want? Or is he so consumed with killing now he can’t stop or does he just wanted to erase everything you ever built up?

I’ll find out. I have to find out. It’s my job . Did I tell you I’m an Unspeakable now? Potions are a side job. A very wealthy side job but nonetheless.

I wish you had told me.

I can fight Hades. I would have at least liked to help you once.

February 17th 1977

Euphemia has Dragon Pox. She’s really ill Hades and I can’t leave her side.

I don’t want her to leave me too. James comes round after schools. He’s supposed to be focusing on his NEWT’s. But he’s certain he’ll pass.

Euphemia worries for me constantly and I feel guilty because she pleads for me to put the uniform away. To just be a potion maker.

I think the Prophets caught wind of her condition.

They say to give her a year.

Hadrian everything hurts.

June 31st 1977

She passed.

August 12th 1979

James and Lily have gotten married and they’re already expecting. I’ll be a grandfather Hadrian. They’re planning on naming the baby Harriet or Harry. I’m mortified and I expect you’d be too. As much as you wanted a legacy you never liked having people copy your name. James pointed out that the baby could be named after Henry Potter. Hardly amusing.

Well… Life is quiet. For now.

Mancer’s been quiet and I’ve been supplying your army. You set them up well- but Mancer had killed off quite a few people so they just needed buffing a bit. They’ve pushed the line all the way down to Cardiff, Bristol, Oxford, London and Canterbury.

There’s scouts constantly checking magical signals for any sign of Mancer or his people that we missed.

July 31st 1980

Harry was just born! My my he looks like you Hades. Cries a lot but he looks like you nonetheless. Lily and James are ecstatic and they received word that Frank and Alice safely delivered their son, Neville.

Poor boy, he doesn’t know the name he carries with him.

I hope Harry will be friends with N-

They’re all dead. Hades. Mancer just killed the Alice and Frank

Gone.

November 1st 1981

I’ll kill them all.

I’m going to kill them all-

But Harry needs me.

He needs me-

HADES MY SON IS DEAD

My son is dead- he’s dead- I wasn’t home dead gone, fought - killed , murdered -

Harry is with me now- he won’t stop crying for them and there’s this scar- like it was carved into his face with a knife-

Hades I’m so sorry

I’m so sorry

I told them it was Riddle.

He came to protect me and to meet Harry because he was old enough now- and he was there just after Mancer.

He can’t know about Neville. He can’t know about Mancer. He can’t die to Neville-

I told them all it was Riddle.

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

Forgive me

August 1988

He’s quiet, he is. He’s kind to me. But he is quiet. I don’t know if he remember but the scar will always serve as a reminder Hades.

The Unspeakable’s can’t find Mancer.

None of the Triarii speak to me now but I think they understand that I know something and I didn’t want them knowing. That I couldn’t explain- or that I was deeply grieved.

I moved from Godric’s Hollow to the Potter Manor and employed Unspeakable’s because I can’t sleep at night knowing how easily the houses wards were broken through.

Harry is familiar with some of them. He doesn’t like them hiding their faces but he brightens up the mood. He’s strong- Merlin, his accidental magic almost blew up the fireplace.

Tell me, Hades, did you give all your magic to this boy?

Hah, even if you did, he has none of that table graces. Food goes everywhere- but he constantly asks me about James and Lily. He doesn’t ask about you. He doesn’t know you. It would be safer if he never knew you. I never tell him.

He’s doing well. He’s doing really well. But I’m keeping him away from everyone. The prophecy is there. Hanging over everyones heads.

I don’t want to raise the weapon against Riddle but I already begun his downfall just with that false accusation.

It still haunts me, day and night- Filius and Minerva visit me with Dumbledore occasionally. Meeting Harry. Dumbledore brought up you.

Now Harry doesn’t stop asking.

He’s a curious boy. I can’t help but that curiosity is what’s going to ruin him. The curious ones are always the first to die.

But I can’t even say the weak are first to die.

Out of all of us, you were the strongest and you died first.

Oh I love the kid, but I’m older now Hades. I don’t have that immortal youth the Triarii possesses somehow. I still look like I’m in my fifties but I’m nearing seventy now.

Maybe I should take a note out of Flamel’s book.

Give me a few more years Hades. I’ll kill him.

September 2nd 1991

He’s gone.

Why oh why is everyone leaving me?

Harry’s gone. He never made it to Hogwarts and Minerva reached out to me.

I should have gotten on that fucking train with him.

I bet it was Mancer. I’ll find him- for you, Hades and you, Harry.

At least you never left me. Your still in my head.

September 3rd 1994

I got word of it today. His name was pulled out of the Goblet.

He’s alive .

By Merlin, by Gods above my Grandson is alive- the Potter line won’t end with me Hadrian. I’m laughing now, I’m happy- I’m so happy. I must sound insane.

My Grandson is alive- James isn’t dead- he lives on. Euphemia and I live on.

By life and death Hadrian, was it you? Was it you who kept the boy alive? Was it? He’s alive. He has to be- they have to find him- I’ll have to head back.

I’m in France- will he remember me?

That eleven year old boy? Will he remember the years we shared? Will he? Or will he be so tortured by Mancer-

No, no that thought scares me. Because then I gave up Hadrian. Then he was alive, waiting for me and I gave up-

No. The ministry will inform me, I’m certain.

Septimer 23rd 1994.

He’s alive. He’s alive- unharmed and alive-

It wasn’t even Mancer. It wasn’t Mancer Hades. Just a witch- a witch that lost him in London and he got swept up in the Muggles.

It’s my fault for never taking him to Diagon Alley. I should have done that.

I need to visit him- but I found Mancer’s trail. It’ll go cold if I go back to Harry and I feel like that it’ll put him in greater risk. Not that he isn’t already in a deadly Triwizard Tournament but he’s always been brave.

He can do it. I trust him. He’s survived this long he can do it.

He’s a fighter. He’s a survivor- just like you.

While I’m hunting Mancer- protect him for me Hadrian. My Grandson.

November 24th 1994

The bloody boy is giving me a heart attack. A fight against a dragon? He’s in Slytherin! Bloody Merlin this boy…

But he lived. He’s alive.

I’m not in a position where I can send a message but I have been informed Dumbledore is keeping a careful eye on you at Minerva’s behest so I will keep that in my mind.

He did well. Amazingly well. I think Ekkathion would be proud, Hadrian. He dealt with the dragons without harm. A parseltongue? Amazing. Just like you. Perhaps you really did give him your power. He seems just as intent on latin.

If that’s the case- thank you.

Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll make it to Christmas. Or the holidays.

They’ve found me in France and I’ve killed off enough of them that I’m in severe danger.

Well, I’m preparing for a large fight my friend. I think I’ll leave this as my last entry. If I make it- well, you’ll be the first to know.

If I don’t… well, you will still be the first to know won’t you?

My dear friend…

As you say, Invictus maneo. I remain unconquered.

We will meet again.

November __ 1994

Chapter Text

The diary was quite big. Brown leather with black bindings. The pages yellowed and frequently held. The ink was plain, normal, standard. The pen tip was just the normal things you could buy from the store for cheap money.

Fleamont was never one to be frivolous with his money. In fact. He didn’t usually do anything with his funds.

But… something so personal, so precious- to be not decorated in the slightest like he used to do-

Well… at least Fleamont was aware he was drifting. Through life. Unable to really settle as he ought to.

Hadrian stares at it in transfiguration class. Draco and Theodore has been glancing at it repeatedly and Hadrian stroked the spine, feeling the ribbing of where the string bound the pages. Filius was going over the Accio charm but Hadrian had long since mastered that.

“Mr Potter are you listening?” Filius asks. He glances up at his professor who scanned him from his spectacles on top of his many books and covered in sparkling midnight blue garments. His signature colours. Though his silence made it clear he was wanting an answer.

“Yes sir, the accio spell is a summoning charm that causes an object at distance to come to the caster. It’s also the oldest spell in existence and can be adapted to summon things directly to the caster, without the object having to traverse the space between themselves and the place the object was originally.”

The class blinked owlishly at Hadrian and Filius smiles.

“Good, I’m glad you have read ahead. Five points to Slytherin. Now then, the incantation is Ak-see-oh-”

Hadrian drowns him out. What is he supposed to do now?

Fleamont had quite literally, fell apart. If that wasn’t clear in the writing that got shorter and shorter or the crazed madness in his handwriting- the quick calligraphic loops in an attempt to maintain dignity-

Hadrian wanted nothing more than to hug his friend but there’s never been so much space between them.

He wishes he could remember the memories of this body. He wishes he could remember this time with Fleamont. He wishes he’d gotten on that train after all and gone home every summer not to the Dursley’s, but to Fleamont.

But he couldn’t have known. Fleamont kept it from everyone. He was Hadrian’s self proclaimed Secret Keeper.

“Why do you keep looking at it like it’s your dead owl?” Hayes asks from behind him suddenly. He twists over his shoulder as the class attempts the spell. Hayes was watching him with narrowed eyes and Hadrian ignores him, tucking the book closer to his body and summoning a feather from the other side of the classroom.

An accio charm could not generally summon living things because to do so required the ability to summon all the person was. Their heart, their veins, their bones- you could not just think of them as a whole and summon them because you’d likely suck the soul right out of their body-

Which was why Hadrian was going to attempt to accio Fleamont later.

Of course it might not work, it might kill him in the process if it does end up finding his soul and he doesn’t have the capacity to summon him-

Alternatively, there might be nothing to summon or he may accidentally summon Fleamont’s burnt corpse all the same.

There was very little ways of knowing.

But he’s spent hours crying at the desk and his dreams were plagued with imaged of Fleamont struggling and fighting and getting injured- and then killed.

So yes, he’s tired. Yes, he has a lot on his plate and oh he’s so relieved to know more about his group. They’re still fighting and pushing them all the way down to Birmingham. But he can’t find them now. They’re so good at hiding he can’t even find them.

He messaged Edwin to get him to locate them and Dracula was silent on his end with finding Neville.

His head hurt awfully-

He opens up the first log. The very, very first page.

Death is certain, it’s hour uncertain.

Death conquers everyone and I suppose you are no different.

Though I’ve been told the Dead teach the living.

You do. Hades. Every day your words echo in my head and I realise how intelligent you really were. How wise you were. How I should have cherished you more. How I should have paid more attention to the signs. You told us something was wrong. Everyday. You were tense. You were afraid but you still smiled. You still offered a kind hand.

Like you knew your end was on it’s way.

I hope you find your Persephone in the afterlife Hades. I hope the afterlife treats you well and I hope you will somehow build yourself a throne there as you did here.

I hope you vanquish your enemies and your torture your killer for all eternity.

Because you never die. You never will die.

Not so long as I live. Not so long as this book lives on. Not so long as the world remembers you. Even if in a thousand years, I am forgotten and you remain.

I pray you remain.

I pray only you remain.

Hadrian closes the book and when the lesson was over, waited until everyone had left.

“Mr Potter?” Filius asks curiously. “Is there something you need?”

“Why can’t Accio be used on living beings?” Or dead ones?

“It’s not that it can’t be used,” Filius says carefully, walking closer. “It’s that it is mentally impossible for the caster to remember every muscle, every ligament, every fibre of a living being and successfully bring it to yourself. The first time it was tried- the heart was brought and the wizard was dead before it could be reversed.”

“And an anti-theft ward can stop this?”

“The second part of it,” Filius interrupts, “is that ones magic generally fights against being summoned. Which is why the only being capable of being summoned is a Flobberworm. They lack organs and they have little to no magic. Not anything that is worth mentioning in the least. Although this question is curious Mr Potter, why do you ask?”

He glances at the book and then asks,

“I was wondering if you could summon a ghost.”

Filius looks at the book and then hums in thought.

“Summoning a ghost… I suppose they don’t have any magic to fight back against a summoning which is why those old rituals are quite effective, especially on the muggles. They don’t have organs or bones or any structure to them at all so I suppose it is, in fact, their essence. What you think of. It should be possible. This is all in theory Mr Potter. I would advise you against any such activities as it is, after all, against Wizarding Law.”

Like that’s ever stopped me.

But he acts hesitant and nods.

“Thank you professor.” He stands, grabs the book and moves on to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

He sits in his usual seat and flips through the pages, the potions Fleamont worked on and the odd writings between them all that only the mind of a potions expert could understand. Perhaps he’d go to Severus.

“Please hand in your Unforgivables essay.” Hadrian pulls out the file and hands it to Remus who collects it as he walks by, peering at the diary curiously and then continued on by. “Today,” Remus announces, putting the essays on his desk, “We’ll be working on the Stunning Spell. Can anyone tell me what it is?” Theodore lifts his hand as well as Hayes and a few others. Blaise’s attention was fixed solely on his hands changing shape and colour as Hadrian had taught him after he’d revealed his little skills.

He was getting quite good at it.

“The spell is Stupefy and it renders a victim unconscious and halts moving objects. It’s commonly used in duels,” Ron points out.

Right, his friend was so different now. It was so disconcerting and if there’s one thing he hates, it’s dealing with that.

The other- was the nervous, chittering Gryffindor to his immediate left who’d ruined everyones lives.

He glances out of the corner of his eye at Neville and watched him splatter ink all over his notes. His table mate, Seamus, rolls his eyes and cleaned it up with a flick of his wand.

Thank Merlin for Neville having a wand that was wrong for him. Really, everyone should be begging for Augusta’s foresight. She’d somehow known.

Before Neville had killed her the first time when he’d found out.

She’s dead now. In the grave beside Frank and Alice. According to an earlier entry in Fleamont’s book.

So who was taking care of Neville?

Who was Neville staying with and why did no one question the Gryffindors home status? Augusta, Frank and Alice were his only relatives. There’s no one else and he hasn’t been adopted. He would have heard about it if he had…

He taps his quill to the table as he takes notes on stupefy.

He only uses the spell occasionally now whereas he used to use it to disarm all the time in the past. Of course he hadn’t been aiming to kill. If he had, he would have likely been fired from being the Chief Auror. Sometimes you couldn’t help it but you always were supposed to fight to disarm and demobilise.

Although he didn’t know the effects could be stacked. That is interesting.

Once again when class is over, he waits and Remus eventually notices he’s still there.

“Are you alright Hadrian?” Remus asks, walking over. Hadrian taps the diary and manages to gather his words,

“I heard you used to stay with Fleamont. At his house, I mean.”

“I did,” Remus agrees, pulling up a chair to finally get to talk to Hadrian. He glances at his Godfather who looked at the diary. “What would you like to know?”

“What was he like?” He blurts. “I barely remember him, so I don’t- I can’t- you get what I mean.” Remus nods and tilts his head.

The scar on his face seemed faded now, like the burden had eased now that he had the permanent position of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

The only thing he doesn’t ask is- if not Barty, who put his name in the cup? It didn’t seem like Tom had even tried to initiate it- was it Neville trying to force him out of hiding? To try and kill him?

Was he trying to replay what had happened with Voldemort-

“He was kind,” Remus says at last. “Distracted but kind. Euphemia, his wife, always said there was something on his mind. Your father always thought he was trying to find something but he never did. James, also continuously asked about one of Fleamont’s friends to try and find out what happened to him- and Fleamont never told him.” Hadrian rubbed the pages. Remembering reading that part. “But he also really liked taking care of plants and he had a soft spot for black cats. I think he must have adopted seven of them. One was a tuxedo cat named Moriarty. I laughed so hard when James found out who his favourite cat was named after. Euphemia got sick of cleaning up the hairballs, I think. His house was always a bit messy, books strewn everywhere. But last I heard, he moved you to the Potter Manor so you won’t remember Godrics Hollow would you?” He shakes his head and Remus bobs his head, swallowing thickly. “He loved his wife very much and that’s quite rare for pureblood wizards who are forced into a marriage. They don’t usually get along as well as they did. I never did learn which family Euphemia came from.”

“So he was present? All the time?” Remus blinks at him in a very wolf like fashion. It’s probably a habit he’s picked up from Sirius.

“He didn’t know you were still alive, Hadrian. He would have run over. I think something stopped him. I’m sorry for your loss-”

“You knew him better,” Hadrian said bitterly, the truth settling in. Hadrian might have known him longer but Remus had known him better. Hadrian only knew the remnants of his thoughts within thin paper pages.

Soft brown eyes fill with grief, “No family member should have to see their relatives dead in that fashion.”

“Yeah well, I can’t do anything about that. I’m trying to find Mactator but they’re just…” He shrugs helplessly, dropping his hands into his lap and leaning back against the chair. “Poof.”

“Mactator is someone you should face when you’re older Hadrian,” Remus says softly. “Become an Auror and you’ll be able to find them. With your grades you could even become Chief Auror.”

I’ve already been it once. Never again.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “But I don’t have time to wait. I don’t know who’ll be next.”

Remus’s silence reaches his ears and he glances at the werewolf and his dear professor and his godfather and the person he’d guiltily not interacted with.

Because Remus was dead. Strewn across the Hogwarts hall with Nymphadora, leaving Teddy an orphan. The man who offered him chocolate after the dementor attack and helped him get Sirius away- helped him catch Pettigrew and helped him fight so earnestly-

He blinks away tears and looks away from Remus and in a thick, choked voice says, “I’m sorry for avoiding you.”

Remus gave him a soft, forgiving smile. “You’ve lost your family Hadrian. I don’t expect to be the first person you would turn to. But I am here for you. As one of your Godfathers, as well as Sirius, we’d both be willing to get to know you, spend time with you. If you were willing to meet him.”

“Hayes’ uncle?” He asks and Remus nods.

“The very same.” Hadrian looks at Remus, the face alive and full of colour- not pale and covered in dust and plaster and blood-

“Okay. When?” Remus smiles.

“I heard your coming to the Christmas Party. Sirius is actually quite busy, surprisingly. He’s quite the trouble maker you see.” Hadrian can’t help a smile. Some things don’t change after all. Remus echoes his smile. “I can introduce you to him then?”

“I would love that,” he whispers quietly. A reprieve, a welcome distraction at party so rammed with pureblood it would make his head spin again. People he knew. People he could trust- people he loved. People he missed.

Harry had existed once. And he still existed.

In people like Remus and Sirius- he was still there. The troublesome Gryffindor could still, possibly exist now. In Hadrian.

“You’ll be late for dinner at this rate Hadrian,” Remus comments, checking the time on his pocket watch he always carried around. Hadrian watches his face, looking at Remus- Remus as a whole. Remus who was a werewolf- a werewolf he trusted his entire being with.

“Yes, I do suppose I should get going.” He packs up his bags and walks to the door.

“Ah- Hadrian, before I forget, what do you like?” He glances over his shoulder, smiled at Remus and said,

“I really like chocolate and wolves.”

Remus’s laughter followed him out of the corridor.

Chapter Text

“Merlins saggy balls.”

The infused chalk on the floor wasn’t reacting to anything even after Hadrian had completed the last symbol. He stares at it, tapping his foot to the floor in confusion.

What had he done wrong?

He stepped across his dorm floor, careful not to smudge the chalk and picked up the old grimoire that Hedwig had grabbed from Edwin. He mulled over the ghost summoning circle but…

Is this the price he pays for burning the body? There was no afterlife for the soul?

Y’know what-

He walks right out of his room, down the hall and knocks on Theodore’s dorm room with Draco and Hayes.

“Who is it!” Draco shouts.

“Me!”

“I don’t know someone called me-”

Hadrian just opens the door and walked into the room where Theodore was reading at his desk and he shoves the old grimoire down in front of him, pointing at the magic circle.

“Why doesn’t it work?” Theodore blinks slowly and then leans forward to actually inspect it. Come on son of the wicked wizard Thaddeus- use that dark brain of yours-

“I mean, what’s the material you used?”

“I used-” he catches Theodores words and scowled and the boy grins, successfully making Hadrian admit he had attempted it.

Not how you are supposed to use that brain Theo!

“I used,” he says lowly, “infused graphite blocks.” Theodore raises a brow and then looks again at the circle.

“Well… I mean it’s all in tact. There’s nothing wrong with the circle from what I know. Graphite is an earth stone, Ghost’s are connected to the earth so I don’t see why it didn’t work… Do you know how the person died?” Hadrian surveys Theodore and then says slowly,

“Well I mean, murdered but their body was burned.” Theodore frowned and returned to the book, brow furrowing.

“Then maybe they would be more connected to fire than earth?”

“But the rocks are too solid to leave a smooth residue. That’s why I used graphite.”

“What if you use something that sets on fire?” The boy points out, tapping on a section that mentioned harnessed energy. “That way it uses it’s own burning capacity as well rather than your own magic. It lowers the dangers… hold on this could have killed you,” Theodore turned to stare at him, scrutinising him and poking him in the cheek. “You seem relatively intact.”

Hadrian gives him an annoyed glance. “Of course. It didn’t work.” Theodore shrugged and Hayes asks,

“Who’s it for?”

“Merlin,” Hadrian lies with a flat voice and a blank face. Hayes only rolls his eyes.

“Ha ha, for real though?” Hadrian shrugs and turned back to Theodore.

“What would I burn? It has to be even and quite quick and maintain for a long time.” The boy scratches his head.

“That’s the issue. Wood takes too long to burn and then usually burns too quickly or not strong enough. Unless you can get your hands on like, magma or something I don’t really see how you could do this. You need something to fuel it.”

Fuel- Hadrian smiles. Fuel. But how is going to get fuel?

Actually… Hermione…

He scratches his chin, snatching back the Grimoire and left for the library with a quick thanks.

In the back corner, surrounding by books, was his bushy haired, brown eyed friend. He walks over and sits down opposite her and the Ravenclaw doesn’t notice for a long moment.

“Ms Granger?” The girl drops her book rather quickly and her face is actually quite different from before- she looks gaunter, thinner- he cocks his head, “Are you eating enough?” The girl looks absolutely dead on her feet.

“I’ll have you know it’s quite rude to ask a girl that,” she scolds him, as always. Eyes narrowing before she spots the old Grimoire. “Can I help you with something?”

“Why, you can in fact, help me. Except you probably aren’t going to like it.” The girl closes her book altogether.

“Well I’ll be the judge of that after you tell me what it is.”

“I need a gallon of petrol.” The girls eyes bulge out of her head and whipped around to see if anyone had overheard.

“That is insane Mr Potter!” Ouch. “I know you are a half-blood but you lived in the muggle world didn’t you? You should know that petrol is highly flammable and explosive-”

“Unless in an unconfined space and lit safely with appropriate restrictions in place.” That doesn’t seem to comfort her at all but she whispers harshly,

“I’m afraid I cannot help you-”

“It’s for the second task,” he lies. “I’m in dire need of it.”

“You already figured out the riddle?” She asks in shock and he grins.

Yeah, two lifetimes ago. Literally.

“I mean, I could always ask a wizard to get it for me but I doubt that will go down very well-”

“No, no I don’t think you should do that,” she admonishes, biting her lip in thought. “I don’t know how I’d get it here-”

“I have ways of getting it here, I just need someone to get it.” Hermione narrows her eyes.

“I won’t break the rules-”

“It’s not rule breaking.”

“I really can’t see what you’d need petrol for.”

“It’s a secret.” He winks. Hermione sighs and writes down a note.

“I’ll send an owl to my parents but I think they’d rather know what you’re using it for.”

“As a magical source for fire power.” And summoning power.

Hermione hums, tapping her cheek. “I suppose that would work, though I would probably use something safer or trees-” Right he forgot that there was this side of her. “Actually, petrol dipped in string could be a good substitute- since petrol is a liquid…”

He stares at his old friend and then slaps himself in the face. He’d forgotten about that and it would be perfect.

“A rope, a rope soaked in petrol, would that be better?” Hermione shifts uneasily.

“I’m not sure my parents are going to be entirely willing. It is quite dangerous- this isn’t for arson is it?”

“No,” he promises. “Hogwarts is going to be unburnt and untouched.” Sort of.

“Good,” Hermione crosses out the line. “I can’t promise it’ll be here before Christmas though.”

Snow has already begun to fall but it didn’t change anything.

“That’s… fine, I think…” He was desperate to contact his friend but apparently he would have to wait a bit-

Purple vines curled around his hands that were seated on the desk and Hadrian stopped breathing altogether. Hermione was still writing and didn’t seem to notice-

A dark sensation pricked his neck and the hairs on his arms raised and goosebumps covered his flesh. Something morbid and awful curled around his heart, curling up and sleeping in his stomach-

No-no-

“Oh Neville,” Hermione says with a smile, looking up and beyond Hadrian- who sat with his head bowed and his shoulders turned in. “Are you here for your lessons?”

“Uhm, y-yeah I am b-but if your busy…” Hadrian turned his head slowly and already knew what he would see before he saw it.

Glowing purple eyes, a body soaked in dark tendrils and that foul heart pulsing in the chest of a child-

Viktor’s advice momentarily pounded through his head and he kept staring- kept watching. Alert and awake- he watched his every move.

The differences- the differences?

Well, Neville wasn’t an adult, his voice was still clumsy and high- his body was actually on the chubby side- his face babyish and-

The purple eyes narrowed and then turned into a massive grin and faded completely- leaving just Neville.

Hadrian blinked- the boy blinked back, looking really nervous and uneasy.

“Are you alright Potter-”

“Just call me Hadrian,” he interrupts quickly, looking back at Hermione and at his hands- everything was normal again. “Um, if you could do that I owe you one. A massive one.” Hermione thinks carefully, glances at the book and then nods.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” Hadrian grabs the book and quickly walks away from Neville, glancing over his shoulder- only to spot Hayes in the doorway.

“I’ve never seen someone so scared of him before,” the boy says, leaning against the doorway. Hadrian glances back inside to him-

Alice and Frank were killed but he wasn’t? Why? Why not just kill him so there’s not two Nevilles- he already knew Mancer had lost all of his humanity somewhere along the way but- surely he should have wanted to end Neville’s suffering? Even Augusta?

Who was Neville staying with?

“Do you know where he lives?” He asks and Hayes cocks his head and furrows his brow.

“I actually don’t. His relatives are dead, he must be staying with a caregiver.”

“Yeah, but who?” Hadrian mutters, walking away from the library.

“Anyway, you talked to Granger?”

“She looks half dead,” he mutters, a headache brewing. The Hermione he knew had always made sure to eat and keep healthy. In fact it had been a massive thing for her because she’d been so self conscious. Especially around a pig eater like Ron and she’d also taken it upon herself to set an example for Harry, since he’d been too skinny all the time.

He rubs his ribs in memory and while he can feel them, there’s a good deal of flesh and muscle between his fingers and the bone.

He glances back to the library and wondered if it was Nevilles doing…

He frowns and wonders if he can get Viktor to keep an eye on her- but she doesn’t look well so he can’t say Viktor would.

“What did you come out for?” He glances at Hayes who shrugs.

“I was walking to hand my essay in late to Professor Lupin when I saw Neville walking to the library and I thought you would be in there so I followed.”

“Worried about me?” Hadrian says in surprise. “A real shocker.” Hayes shrugs.

“Well, I never did actually apologise for my grandfather kind of invading your house.” Hadrian sighs and shrugs.

“It didn’t really change anything. He didn’t steal anything.”

“You don’t seem overly surprised that he did in the first place.” Hadrian shrugs helplessly. “Also-” Hayes sniffs Hadrian, eyes flashing lupine for a moment. “I’ve been wondering about that smell for a while. I don’t know anyone we know who smells like that.”

Liar. Hayes was such a liar.

“What smell?” He sniffs his robes and inwardly reminds himself to wash them.

“I dunno. That dark smell.”

“The Dark Lords? I mean I sleep in his old room.” Hayes wrinkles his nose.

“But it’s never been that pungent.”

Hadrian rolls his eyes. “Is your curiosity getting the better of you?” Hayes gives him a flat stare.

“Yes.”

Hadrian huffs and walks away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Whatever.” They walk in silence to Defence Against the Dark Arts and Hayes hands in his essay and they leave in silence. He diverges from Hayes quietly and walks to the lake- where a basilisk is playing in the shallows. He blinks and rolls his eyes.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Whatever I want,” the basilisk hisses, clearly pleased with herself. Tempted to whack the basilisk on the head, he only watches her curled up in the lake, head just above the steaming water. It was quite intimidating. Yellow eyes staring at him through the water vapour. “I’m ssswimming like you sssaid. It’sss cold though.” He raised a disapproving brow.

“It’sss coming into winter. You will hibernate at thisss rate.” The basilisk huffs, breath sending up clouds of air.

“You sssaid I needed to explore the lake,” she points out rather grumpily.

“Okay whatever, keep doing that-”

“Um, Hadrian?” He stiffens, counts to three in his head and turns around to look at Neville. The boy is normal and looks quite uncomfortable. “I um- I was wondering why you avoid me all the time?”

The basilisk observes the boy from the waves. They hadn’t made eye contact yet.

“I don’t like you,” he says flatly. Neville seemed to wince.

“Well, I guess no one else does either- but they don’t- um, run… away? That’s what I mean.”

“I don’t like you,” he repeats, eyes narrowing. Blue eyes flicker purple a bit and Hadrian stiffens and Lizzie hisses in unease, having sensed it. “Now go away,” he mutters. “Don’t you have the bones of the dead to feed on or something?”

Neville actually stiffens this time- before relaxing altogether.

“Aw, Harry you’re still so harsh,” a deep voice purrs from Neville’s body, his whole countenance shifting. Hadrian whips out his wand in an instance, pointing it at him and coming up with a hundred spells at once to use- “You wouldn’t kill a harmless boy right?” The man asks curiously, purple eyes darkening but a smile was still stuck on his face. As if he found this whole situation amusing.

“Get out- get out of him or get away- or anything at all-”

“Y’know,” Neville purrs, walking forward. “If I were to leave this body- the body is already as good as dead. Having another soul in your body really eats away at someone. But I suppose you’d know all about that wouldn’t you?” Hadrian found that none of the spells on his tongue could get past his lips and that his magic was trembling with fear-

A finger trailed along his shoulder as Neville walked behind him-

He has to move-

Lizzie was also frozen- something keeping her in place- something keeping her frozen-

By Merlin when had he casted a petrificus totalus?

“What I really didn’t expect, was you to fall in love with that person,” Neville murmurs, tapping his forehead. “It really screwed things up didn’t it? I had an entire plan to befriend him and well… you fucked that up.”

“You should leave,” he whispers and Neville actually laughs.

“What? What would you do? Look at you?” Neville nudges Hadrian’s frozen limbs and he subconsciously steps back- shaking not from fear but from disgust. Well and fear-

Purple eyes fill his vision and that body was mockery of what resided within.

“You can’t even kill this body because he’s a student. Azkaban for you perhaps? Or maybe you’ll run back to your lover- but you won’t reveal the truth to him right? Or I’ll kill him,” Neville purrs, trailing a cracked nail down Hadrian’s jaw. “But maybe I’ll kill him anyway because you still seem to hold onto him-”

Hadrian bares his teeth in rage, clenching his fists and Neville smiles.

“It takes barely anything to aggravate you y’know? Dumbledore thought his little protégée was all calm and wise, diligent and forgiving. Look at you now…” The boy laughs and Hadrian whips a scaled fist around, slamming it into his head and his head cracks back satisfyingly and he staggers back a bit.

The necromancer actually looked surprised when Hadrian lunged after him, fangs, claws and scales- not fully shifted but enough to make it clear precisely what he was-

A blast of purple magic had him quickly apparating back- just as the water turned black and twisted towards him- Lizzie’s scaled rapidly drying and flaking off as her eyes contorted into glowing purple pits-

“No!” He shouts and Lizzie lunges for him while Neville steps back and observes with a growing manic face. “Lizzie!” He begs, sidestepping her lung. He spread his wings, trying to get out- No- She whipped around him, squeezing and constructing his limbs- he swore he felt his wings crack. “Lizzie let go! Pleassse-” She tightens- tightens and- He lets out a cry of anguish.

No-

“Lizzie don’t make me do it!” He cries. It was no use- gone- her mouth had dried to the bone and Neville- Neville was sucking out her life force-

He had- he couldn’t- but he had to end her suffering- So he tilts his head up to her face- she seemed stuck with her maw open, poison dripping from her fangs- like she was fighting back- waiting- waiting-

“Mori!” he shouts and green magic whipped out, surrounding the basilisk in something destructive and green and he felt the magic drain in an instance on something as big as she was- in a body that had only a fraction of his original power-

He gasps as he’s dropped onto pebbles- ashes scattering around him and a boot collides with his face-

“Well, is that how you treat pets is it you halfbreed?” Neville squats in front of him with an evil grin as Hadrians eyes water and pain explodes in his face. “What a shame, she fought so hard too-”

He let out a cry of rage and shouted, “Stupefy!” The red jet hit the boy in the chest and while it stunned him- didn’t knock him unconscious as he lunged. Neville side stepped, throwing up a protego that Hadrian steps around- using the weight of his wings to counterbalance his movements and speed-

But Neville just seemed to be getting faster-

“Prohibere!” Neville was much smaller than a Hungarian Horntail- unfortunately he also had magic to fight back- a cutting hex hits him square in the chest- and Neville smirks as he whispers,

“Sectumsempra.”

It’s terrifying the speed at which the spell moves- knocking him flat on his ass and spraying the stones with blood. He grabs a rock, infuses it silently with a bombarda maxima and hurls it at Nevilles head.

“Baubillious!” A purely light spell that hurtled towards Neville who erected a shield- of which it passed through harmlessly and struck Neville right on his left shoulder, winding up his neck in a severe burn. Hadrian stood and lunged, digging his claws into his side only for Neville to apparate and drag Hadrian with him-

He hits the rocks and apparates himself back to where he’d just been regardless of where they’d gone and Neville is holding a wand up to his throat.

“Circumrota! Sectumsempra! " Hadrian shouts and Neville is forcefully spun around and his back exploded with ugly gashes- and Hadrian wanted nothing more than Severus to come upon them and look at the damage his own creation could do.

Before Neville could recover Hadrian blasts him with a Bombarda Maxima- sending him flying forwards- his clothes catching fire-

A giant splash and silence caught his ears and he breathed heavily and stepped forward-

To find him bleeding out in the water, blue eyes wide and blood shot- blood dripping out of the boys mouth and covered in injuries that were evidently Hadrian’s own doing-

“Y-you-” the boy coughed out more blood, staining the water and Hadrian stared- and stared- had he gotten caught up? Had he gone too far- was this still Neville the boy and not Mancer-

Merlin what has he done-

Purple magic exploded from the body- drawing all possible attention from nearby teachers and Hadrian didn’t stick around. Somebody would have seen anyway- but-

He fled. To the forest, hiding amongst the trees- amongst the shadows, breathing shallowly and in a panic- attempting to calm everything that had just transpired.

No-

He was trembling so badly he couldn’t even shift back- scared shitless and the ground was blurry-

There was a cry of horror and the alarm was raised- he had to get back to the common rooms to not be a suspect-

MOVE!

Move-

He had to-

He collapsed to a knee- finally glancing down to see him covered in his injuries and remembered that technically he should be debilitated by now-

He turned his attention through the thicket of the forest but there was such a loud roar in his ears as he watched Neville form one word-

Potter-

And then the boy collapsed from his injuries.

No-

No-

NOT AGAIN

Dumbledore looked down at the boy in shock and horror- Minerva was cradling the brutalised boy- Filius looked downright horrified-

Gods he couldn’t breathe-

He sucked in sharp breathes- trying- trying-

Gods his vision was so blurry that he had to be crying- he had to be crying-

“FIND HADRIAN POTTER!” Minerva screamed.

No- no-

Fawkes appeared in a moment on Dumbledores arm and Hadrian pressed his back against the tree, not even registering his shattered wing being poked by branches.

This couldn’t be happening- no- no-

Breathe- he pulled on his shirt and saw Durmstrang run out of the building- Viktor paused. Hadrian saw him pause- saw him look at Neville’s body and mouth his name. Some other Durmstrang students paused and Karkaroff shouted- even Beauxbatons raced to their carriage-

Nope- that was it, Hadrian wasn’t breathing-

He saw fire coming towards the forest and panicked- picking and pulling a random shadow-

And hearing the clang of pots and the smash of bottles as he finds himself stumbling in the kitchens-

Gods he was hungry- and dripping blood everywhere-

The elves stared at him as he staggered towards where the food was stored, dragging blood with him and he yanked out some fresh raw meat and tore into it to regain any energy he’d lost.

It takes a long moment and he opens the enchanted tap and swallows all the water that flows out-

“Mr Potter be needing our help?” An elf asks tentatively.

“A- healing potion,” he gasps, staggering towards the table, “or- or bandages,” he breathes. The elves pop out and there’s soon bandages on the table and he yanks off his brutalised shirt and sees the burns and jinxes and hexes- they’re overpowered but all light magic- to paint Neville as the good guy- as the victim. He mutters some healing and preventative spells as he works.

Shit- shit everything’s gone to shit-

It doesn’t help his case with the things he’d been looking into-

Gods what was Remus going to think? Would-

He removes his wings- which takes more energy than he’d thought-

Probably because they’re fucking broken but they’re dragon scales- no spells work so he can’t just-

He doesn’t expect Remus to come charging through the door and make eye stunned contact with him-

“I- I can explain,” he begs, scared for an entirely different reason now. If Remus pushes him away he’s not sure he can handle it. The man rushes towards him and Hadrian flinches, jerking out of the way, his entire body on fire as he stumbles and falls to the floor. “Moony I can-” Remus grabs his arm and pulls him into his tight embrace-

“It’s okay pup- it’s okay- it’s okay- everything is okay…” He’s warm- he’s soft- he’s safe

Hadrian breaks down into tears.

Lizzie and everything- it’s all- fucked. Remus only holds him- hugging him tightly.

“I didn’t- I didn’t-”

“Pup my boyfriend is a Knight of Walpurgis, I know.” Ah, he’d- somehow managed to forget that. That Remus knew. But that means he must have seen- or maybe sensed the magic?

“I- I don’t want to be- to lose-” He spots purple and jerks up on instinct- pulling Remus down and around just as he feels something purple and extreme burn against his skin- he screams and Lupin roars- getting up and pulling out his wand and through a haze of agony- Hadrian looks over to see Hermione- of all people- hair floating and purple eyes glowing, a cruel smile on her lips.

“Two conspirators, jeez Harry you are making this easy! I’ll have to say thank you won’t I?”

When- when had he- when had he taken-

“You won’t get to him,” Remus snarls- standing in front of Hadrian-

“No!” He roars, yanking Remus down by kicking out his knee from behind right as purple passes by just where his head had been and blasts stone out from the wall behind him. “Moony you have to run! REMUS!” He screams as he’s ignored.

That goddamn protectors instinct- The two were stuck in a duel and it was so, so dauntingly clear Mancer was toying with Lupin- waiting, drawing out Hadrian’s agony.

He got up and lunged for Hermione and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”

The desperation and all of Hadrian’s magic was gone with that one spell-

Because something clicked- something powerful and angry and hateful and familiar-

And Hermione was blasted back- and the whole kitchen caved in, the elves screaming as purple filled everywhere and Remus grabbed him, crashing through the window and rolling down the grass hill beside them both.

Hadrian had nothing left- nothing.

His body was twitching, his magic falling through his injuries at an absurd rate- going with his blood- his tears- his very breath-

Remus tightened his grip, getting up and cradling his head as Hadrian stared up at him, breathless and choking on stone dust-

He barely hears Remus say a few spells and he can breath easier- some of his wounds heal- he can feel it-

“Breathe,” Remus says gently. “Breathe- with me, in- out-” Hadrian struggles, it’s like trying to breathe through a straw suction cupped to a base- he can’t draw in anything. “Try again, in through the nose- out through the mouth-” He makes a horrible gasping sound as he manages to find his breath. “Again- in and out- pup you have to breathe-”

He stared at the scars on Remus’s face- and darkness encroaches at the edges of his vision.

Did he just kill Hermione? Did he just kill his friend? Did he? Was she- how long had-

Merlin he couldn’t breathe-

He grasped with weak fingers at Remus’s robes- choking on air that wouldn’t come and that was clearly making Remus panic- which wasn’t helping at all.

“Pup you need- goddammit Hadrian-” Remus forces his jaw open by gripping his chin and shoving his thumb between his jaw blades, separated them. “This is what happens when you just pour magic into a spell that isn’t meant to make things explode!”

He ignores that- it had worked- Hadrian was still alive-

The blood pact tightened around his ankle, where he’d hidden it and just that pain managed to get him semi grounded-

He dug his fingers into the ground- nails scratching at snow and frozen hard earth. It was so cold actually- was it always so cold?

He glances at snow and the powder that drifted over the sky- and then watched his quick breaths cloud up the air in front of him- and how the snow was freezing against his burning hot skin- melting and now he was soaked.

The winter breeze has a strong bite to it that made breathing actually reasonably difficult but Remus didn’t move his hand- until Hadrian’s chest shuddered into a normal breathing pattern- even with some accelerated heart beats to accompany it.

Hadrian manages to gather enough breath to sigh and rest his head against Remus’s knee and Remus lets go of his jaw. Hadrian’s eyes slowly stutter close as the injuries and magic exertion catch up with him as well as the mental shock.

He hears feathers and a white snowy owl drops down beside them both.

“Don’t- hand me over Moony,” he manages to mutter before falling into a slumber.

Chapter Text

“Harry, look at this.” Harry walks over to Ron and glances at the files. “Neville has been filed as a missing person two years ago.” He takes the folder from Ron’s hand, leaning against his desk as he flips through the files.

“That’s strange. Where was he last seen?”

“He wasn’t last seen, that’s the issue.” Ron points at the person who filed the report- Hannah Abbott. His wife. “He was supposed to come home one night- after blowing up in a rage and never came back. It took a week for Hannah to file the report because she thought he’d just travelled or gone away for a long walk as he usually does.”

Harry flicks through, his frown only growing.

“What was the argument about?”

“She refuses to say. I even tried to get Seamus on it but she won’t spill.” Of course she won’t.

“Who was put on the case?”

“Penelope Fawley but she’s…”

“Also missing still,” Harry takes a bit off the apple he’d originally been eating. “She must have found something. A kidnapper?”

“To take Ms Fawley is a bold move. Especially with her husband so dead set on trying to find her.” Harry only sighs. “Where was her last location.”

“Godrics Hollow.” He pauses and glances at Ron who shrugs helplessly. “I dunno what to tell you mate. If it’s coincidence it’s a might large one if not… then your involved. Which might be why Hannah didn’t want to tell us. She knows us so I don’t think she’d assume we’d judge.” Harry shrugs.

“I’ll go and take a look around,” Harry says, dropping the papers. “Is dinner still on for tonight?”

“As always,” Ron offers and he grins, patting his shoulder as he walks out to the floos and apparates to Godrics Hollow, quickly turning to walk along the pavement at a decent speed that would have none of the muggles guessing where he’d come from.

He glances around for anything suspicious but he’s not expected to really find anything. The Potter Cottage is still shambles, the derelict building neglected and damaged and it makes him feel a twinge of guilt-

Until it wasn’t.

Until it wasn’t. In fact. It as completely whole, fully rebuilt and Hadrian stood outside the building, gawking at the building that had been resurrected right before his eyes.

“What…” he casts a revealing charm but nothing shows. A green charm chucked over his shoulder has a raven landing on his shoulder. “Did you see that?”

“See what?” The bird asks, glancing at the building. “Oh it’s whole again. That’s interesting.”

“Yeah but it just…” he shakes his head. If Death knew it would have said something. He pushes open the small gate- squeaking on old hinges and walks towards the front door- the front lawns perfectly manicured.

He doesn’t feel any danger, yet.

He pulls out his wand and opens the front door, looking into a brightly lit interior and walks in with mild confusion to see it fully furnished- pictures of Harry on the wall with his parents and even with Frank and Alice and Neville-

Odd, it should be destroyed… he turns to look at the staircase before being abruptly halted by a sense of danger and glanced at the portrait of Neville to see the babies eyes following the way Hadrian was going.

Death stares at it- Harry stared at it- and blasted the portrait into smouldering smithereens-

“That wasn’t very nice.” He whips around and spots Neville in the doorway, looking haggard and pale with a gentle frown on his face. His eyes darkened slightly and looked so different from that curiosity he used to have.

“Neville…” but it lacked any warmth a reunion should have had and he finds the eyes of all the people in the portraits looking at him.

“Bullying portraits now are we? Do you destroy everything you come across?” Neville sneered suddenly and Harry can’t seem to figure out who to focus on. The creepy portraits he sidled away from or the man who seemed frighteningly hostile.

“Neville the eyes are watching me,” he says carefully. “It freaked me out and this is my family house. Are you okay mate-”

“We aren’t mates ,” Neville growls. “You left me to die.”

“I didn’t know you went missing?” Harry asks. “Penelope was set on it… speaking of, have you seen her-” a sharp object poked his shoulder and he turned- to look at a skull with eyes still left in it’s sockets- the tendons still connecting the jaw- bit of flesh and chunks of hair still on her head-

Harry shouts, shoving the skeletal body away and it’s bones don’t clatter like he expects them too but the colour of the hair strands and the eyes- That’s Penelope-

A walking dead- A walking dead-

“She’s dead,” Harry points out to Neville. “She’s alive?” He asks in confusion. “How…”

He trails off as purple eyes watch him- purple energy surrounding the boy Harry had once fought beside. His eyes slowly trail down to a red heart poisoned with purple veins beats ominously,the heart beat filled the space- surrounding by a cage of bones with flesh hanging from between the bones- actually Neville was missing cheek muscles- and he could see his teeth- it crumpled in a way that held a cruel sinister smile.

The panes of his face were oddly sharp with the skin stretched against his bones- pale and very, very clearly dead.

“You- wait I don’t understand-” he screams as something touches his foot and looks down at a carcass without legs or hips- a hand of bones and purple magic latching onto his ankle and suddenly bones come out of the portraits- tearing at his clothes- “Neville! What-

“You took everything,” Neville seethes. “You took everything. All the glory, all the fame- I was nothing but a boy given a wand that didn’t work. I was second rate at best and I was that stupid, foolish Gryffindor. You only payed attention to me when you needed me, Harry. Harry the Chosen One! Harry this- Harry that. Pathetic…” Harry yanks at the bones- one of them stealing his wand from his grasp-

Shit.

Neville’s bony hand grabbed his collar and smirks- as much as the face of a corpse could and Hadrian stared into burning purple eyes, so filled with hatred and poison-

Like the Draught of Living Death.

Except it was the living fucking dead.

He smashes his skull against pure bone and regrets it immediately but Neville does reel a bit- his grip loosening and he yanks himself out- stamping on the wrist of the skeleton on the floor hard enough to shatter it- snaps the brittle bone of the portrait and grabs his wand and had to quickly unravel himself from the clothes that the hands were still grabbing and he leaped over the couch-

The door slammed close and all the lights went out all at once and winter was dark early- everything went dark-

Except for pair and pairs of glowing purple eyes- and they clambered towards him with gnashing teeth and unblinking eyes, scuttling on arms or dragging broken limbs-

Neville only laughed. Until he screamed.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

Hadrian screamed.

Screamed because he felt those hands all over him, pulling him apart limb by limb and gouging out his eyes-

He sat up, sweating and gripping bedsheets, squeezing his eyes closed.

He knows he’s not there. He knows that. He’s not Harry. It’s been a lifetime. Dissociate- that isn’t him. It isn’t him…

Feel- feel-

What did he feel?

Pain from his wounds, he must have teared something open again. He felt a bed- so Remus must have brought him somewhere or the whole day had just been something his head had made up. But then he wouldn’t be injured so there went that theory.

What else?

There were multiple powerful forced in the room and an odd, powerful miasma a few rooms over. Loose, uncontrolled- and yet the very walls of the room seemed to be containing it- and a spirit that hovered several feet above a body- grasping at the lose magic almost desperately. It barely moved- and then Hadrian’s awareness touched the magic and the miasma seemed to recoil.

Wow… wasn’t it beautiful? Roiling and aware and everything in between-

Had he grown stronger? No. It wasn’t a question. He had grown stronger. Insurmountably.

Then the figure itself moved, cocking a head in such a tom-like fashion it was so obviously also feeling him. Or death perhaps? He knows this skill is one he’d gained from dying, not once but twice. A post-mortem awareness.

Tom, having hung around this awareness was no doubt able to feel deaths presence in his own.

So he pulled himself back and the magic reached out- and Hadrian pulled himself out of the room entirely and focused instead on the glowing blue magic walking towards the main doors.

Orion and-

Oh.

Father- father was here-

Hadrian gasps as the figure pauses and turns their entire focus upon him- blue and overpowering and old and fatherly- forlorn and grieving- and yet curious and that curiosity only grew.

It was like an ocean at night, calming encroaching further up the sand to tentatively feel at the dark cliffs- or perhaps stormy waters trying to reach the blackened clouds that swept low and nearly touched the ocean-

Gods Arcturus was so strong- had he also ever been this strong? How had they gotten this strong? Like a damn waiting to burst-

He didn’t want to leave.

His heart steadied, his magic fluttering over Arcturus’s and he could almost hear the man laughing- the grief fading temporarily.

Father… brother…

His brother was surprised, tentatively feeling Hadrian’s magic but his blue magic had darkened significantly from the royal blue it usually was. In fact- it seemed to wrap around him and it had never done that. It usually prodded about, inspecting the things around it and feeling other peoples magic. Now it was cocooned tightly around him- hiding something thumping and dark-

Hate.

He felt Thaddeus too, in his library- but he wasn’t reading and instead he was also paying attention to Hadrian’s presence- and met him half way- clashing like two opposing currents of air. Thaddeus was more like a gust of wind that caused him to shiver. A howl seemed to follow him and then Thaddeus reached out- directly, parting through the darkness and reached for the body floating in the void-

Hadrian floated away and Thaddeus seemed to more desperately reach out.

Hadrian pulled himself out of Thaddeus’s awareness- and retracted back to himself-

Where he was being shaken violently by Remus-

“HADRIAN! HADR- oh fucking merlin pup,” he’s roughly pulled into an embrace and he blearily opens his eyes- seeing a white outline on Remus-

Moonlight. Hadrian leans into his godfather and Remus asks softly, “Are you here?”

“I am now,” he murmurs, still feeling someplace else. Somewhere with a lot of space- somewhere unrestrained-

An owl hooted softly and he glances to see green surrounding Hedwig. But that’s no surprise. Owls have to have their owners trace on them to track them down. It didn’t help that it looked like she’d been hit with the killing curse though.

“Merlin pup I thought you died.”

“Same.” Remus pushed him away and looked him over and Hadrian looked at his face.

“Come on we need to get your bandages redone.” Remus get’s off of the bed and Hadrian slowly moved his limbs off of the bed and got up, looking around.

He already knew he was in Malfoy Manor- with everyone in it but oddly enough hadn’t sensed Aiden, Abraxas or Reinhard. Odd.

Remus got him to sit down on a chair and he winces, looking around at green carpets, curtains and beds. He also spots Hogwarts books on a desk from last year so this must be either Hayes’s room, Draco’s or Theodore. Assuming they all lived here.

He doesn’t ask though because he isn’t supposed to know where he is right now.

“Where are we?” He asks quietly as Remus undoes all of Hadrian’s bandages gently.

“We’re in Draco’s room at Malfoy Manor. Sirius and his brother lives here,” Remus says quickly. Hadrian furrows his brows.

“Why would the Black’s be living here?” Remus pulls out a new roll and rewraps his chest and back. He’d have limited movement but Remus didn’t make him put on a shirt. Thankfully. Lifting his arms was going to hurt until he healed. Which shouldn’t take too long but nonetheless.

“Black Manor is… incapacitated and their house in London was abandoned.”

“Oh.” Remus passes him a glass of water and while he drinks, puts the back of his hand to his forehead.

“You had quite a violent fever after your encounter with Mancer.”

“You knew it was Mancer?” Hadrian asks slowly. Then he remembers Sirius and shakes his head. “Never mind. How long has it been?”

“Just four days. It’s almost Christmas.” Hadrian shakes his head. He has heaps to do-

“What happened to all my things in Hogwarts?” Remus motioned to his suitcase in the corner and a box of things.

“I got the elves to quickly go and acquire it all. Any possession that had your trace on it I got them to grab. If somethings missing I’m sure I could tweak a few things.”

“But you are here with me?” He asks in confusion. “Won’t you be on the suspect list with me?”

“I’ve been here and at Hogwarts. I left you in the hands of Regulus and he seems to have done a good enough job.” Remus inspected his head where he’d probably knocked and then nodded. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I can’t move that much but I’m awake and I don’t feel like passing out.”

“Good, that’s what I want to hear. Well I have to-”

There was the faint chime of a bell on Remus and he picked up a pocket watch and it had traces of Sirius on it.

“Sorry pup but I have to go to a meeting. I’ll be back really soon if you need anything call out for Trix. She’s the elf that grabbed your things for you.” He nods.

“Be careful Remus.” The man smiles and disappears out the door. It’s not too long in when he get’s a blasting headache from a whole heap of people suddenly apparating in.

He recognises Abraxas in an instance, then Reinhard, Aiden, an unnamed dark forest green energy that must be Regulus, a dark grey energy that was a Malfoy so it must be Lucius and then beside him be Narcissa who split off to go elsewhere. Severus arrived- shockingly and then Barty, whom he felt compelled to go and see and lastly, Sirius.

He seemed older though. His energy wine red but calm. He seemed oddly calm however he seemed to stumble when he saw Remus.

Well. No matter how calm he was, Remus was still the weakness in his knees. It was probably that, and a mix of Remus actually being here. Because Remus was supposed to be at Hogwarts.

Although… Abraxas didn’t seemed surprised and strode right towards a room where they all gathered.

Hadrian pulls himself out with a long sigh and glanced at the raven at the end of the bed and held out a hand and Death hopped on, gripping his arm tightly and little claws pricking his skin.

He strokes the birds feathers softly and Death chirps.

He doesn’t recall exactly when he’d stopped hearing Deaths voice. When Death had stopped talking.

“What do I do?” He sighs to the bird, rubbing his beak and the eyes close in trust, chirping and nudging his fingers. “Do you know where my patronus is Death?”

The bird shook it’s head and Hadrian observes the birds feet, trailing over the feathers and says quietly,

“It’s almost Christmas.” The bird chirps and he feels a spike in magic levels downstairs. “I should go and listen hey?” The bird bobs his head and Hadrian gets up, checks his pants were good enough- they weren’t.

So he changes slowly because he’s quite unable to move quickly.

Then he slips out of the door, using his senses to try and find them. Down two flights of stairs and through three hallways before he stopped outside of a door partially opened and leant against the wall, listening.

“-on earth did Mancer get to Hogwarts?” Orion demands. “The shields should have kept him out!”

“There were two deaths. One muggleborn Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. The accuser is Hadrian Potter.” Reinhard snorts.

“I believe he killed them but he’s too honourable to kill the girl just because. Remus you were there weren’t you, what about the girl?”

“I suspect that Mancer was draining her life force and in the process managed to possess her when Longbottom’s body was killed.”

“Great, so he’s taken to possessing people. He could be anywhere,” Aiden snaps.

“Lucius is pulling Draco out before Christmas,” Abraxas announces. “I suggest Thaddeus and Regulus, you do the same.”

“Yes sir,” Regulus murmurs.

“I’ll have to warn the Greengrass’s but they’ll likely pull out and we all know Mrs Zabini will pull Blaise out,” Thaddeus admits.

Death cocks his feathery head on his shoulder and Hadrian glances at him.

“This isn’t going to go well for Dumbledore,” Reinhard muses.

“Where is the boy?” Abraxas asks. “Remus?”

“He’s up in Draco’s room recovering.”

“Is he injured?” Orion asks lowly.

“Severely. I still have yet to ask actually, as it was a spell unfamiliar to me. It would not heal.” Hadrian touches the bandages and remembers vaguely Snape saying the same thing.

“I don’t like that the boy is exposed to all of this,” Arcturus announces suddenly and hearing his voice makes Hadrian relax against the wall. His father was here. “He’s just a boy. We can’t even deal with Mancer. What hopes does the boy have?” If only you knew father.

“I want to know what they have in common,” Reinhard mutters. “Why would Mancer go after Potter if he was after Hades in the past? I don’t really understand.”

“Unless Potter knows something-” Death hops onto his other shoulder and nips at his ear, pulling him down the hallway. He follows his advice and he spots a painting covered in black and furrows his brow as Death urges him to reveal it.

He pulls the fabric to the side and stares up at his old face- that stared right back at him. He opens it fully to reveal the astronomy tower at night and Hadrian’s face staring down at him.

Right- the silencing charm.

He feels for the hollow along the gilded frame and feels something sharp prick his finger and take his blood-

“Well it took you long enough,” the voice said lowly, harshly. Merlin is that his voice? He looks at the portrait looking at him with contempt- before it sighed. “I suppose I don’t know what happened exactly so I can hardly judge.” The painting seemed to pause, hearing the heightened conversation in the meeting room. Hadrian was ready to make a run for it if the painting shouted-

Except he didn’t. “Well we failed,” Hadrian said lowly, glancing down the hall and cast a quick notice-me-not. “I died and now I’m here again.” The figure inclined it’s head, rather gracefully. Had he always looked like that or is it just what the painter had seen.

“Well everything is different from what it once was. I know that will offer you some consolation.” Hadrian inclined his head.

“I did come to that conclusion.” He doesn’t add how long it took him. The figure shook it’s head in amusement.

“All those days in the study and all it took was dying.”

“I didn’t want time to revert. Studying didn’t get me anywhere but I would have felt worse had I not tried and been wrong.” The figure nods in acceptance.

“I recall that too.”

“How much do you know?” The figure frowned.

“I should be asking you the same thing. If I know you. And I do. You’ve cast some of your memories aside. To make it tolerable.” Hadrian shrugged.

“I threw it and all of my old magic into my patronus so that I wouldn’t start totally afresh. I don’t think he remembers it even exists.”

“Well… patroni do tend to disappear when the owner dies.” Hadrian hums and wonders if that’s where his communication with death went.

“You’re all they had,” Hadrian realises quietly. The figure’s gaze became full of regret.

“I do wish I’d never place a silencing charm on this portrait. I only longed to talk to them. Of course I never died so I couldn’t help them because even I didn’t know. Hearing them in the beginning, begging for us to come back. It was unbearable. Then they stopped and I just wanted to tell them I was sorry.”

“Will you now?” The figure’s gaze softened.

“You should burn me.”

“They’d probably murder me.” His mirror self merely chuckled.

“You and I both know you hate being who you are. Stop lying. Being a Black was freedom. Being a Black was safety and being a brother was comforting. Being a lover,” Hadrian says softly, “was a blessing. So Hadrian Morden Black. You will find that Patronus and you will return to the battlefield because that is where we belong and when all is said and done… you will take Tom and Orion and move to Greece, because that is where we wanted to be.”

Hadrian gazes up at someone wiser and yet younger than himself and sighs.

“I feel like everything has changed.”

“You stopped being selfish. It wasn’t a good thing.” He snorts in amusement. It sounds so condescending and so arrogant and yet… only bad things had happened when he’d been selfless. “Blacks take what they want and they look after what they have. When you get your head together you are going to march into that hall on Christmas and Potter is going to be dead.”

“What about Remus and Sirius-”

“Sirius,” his mirror says sharply, “is our nephew. Remus, is his boyfriend.”

Hadrian cowered away from that and the portrait sighs.

“Listen… when they died… we let go of them. We lived as a Black freely. We didn’t have to worry about what would come to pass regarding those we knew. I see that we have gotten attached now that they are alive again. But Hadrian they aren’t the same people. Remus might look after you while you are injured. He might want to know you but they only see me or James.”

“But then what is the point of me even coming back? Into this body- I don’t understand.” He looked desperately to his old self- as if all of that wisdom was something he didn’t have.

The portrait gazed at him fondly. “It was the best Death could do. Your body was destroyed. Did you expect to come out of nowhere again? You needed to lay low and be protected. You are alive before me now so we must have succeeded.”

Hadrian fiddles with his hand and then sighs helplessly. “Do you know where the patronus is?”

“I can feel it yes.”

“You won’t tell me?” The figure chuckles.

“I have my reasons. You just don’t recall. Go on. They’ll be finished in the meeting soon.”

Hadrian hesitantly turns away, glancing back once before moving to the door and stepped out onto the front driveway and walks quietly towards the fountain.

He’d just effectively been told to forget all of this and live as Hadrian Black.

The moon shone bright high above and Hadrian suddenly felt small and inconsequential. Even in the night.

It was cold outside. Frost covered the floor and his feet burned from the ice but- he kept walking. And then he ran-

And then he flew.

Chapter Text

Orion looked around the study, observing the boxes that he had opened. Books, inks, pins, old and broken artefacts- simple things.

Until he pulled out the books and discovered long lost family grimoires from the Malfoy’s, Blacks, Potters, Gaunts, Nott, Ollivander and Prewett. There’s ancient books from ancient times- from when the Roman’s invaded Britain- from as far back as 600 B.C.

It’s ancient things like this that people had forgotten. His brother hadn’t been a person to leave such valuable things untouched. They were made to be seen, learnt and understood. So had he left the files in his study as a fool safe to ensure that they were found should he fail?

“Salazar is there anything here of value?”

“You will have to be a tad bit more specific. There’s nothing in here that doesn’t have value. Even the inks are invisible inks or blood inks.

Orion reaches into a box and pulls out some red ink and looks at the label-

Borgin and Burkes Blood Ink.

“Merlin…” He puts the inks down and tries to come to a conclusion why he’d need blood ink of all things. “Revelio,” he whispers and blue magic creeps around the room- and suddenly everything was glowing blue and he frowns. That isn’t-

A box catches his eye. Underneath the desk in a flat hole at the back.

He cancels the spell, casts a lumos and get’s on his hands and knees to pull out the box and drag it towards him.

What on earth was it, was the question.

It had so many spells on it that it took Orion hour to individual unlock each and everyone and Salazar had to help him out thrice with parseltongue before the thick black lid finally unlocked, springing slightly ajar.

Orion furrows his brow as he opens the box. Whatever is inside is covered by yet more spells and Orion wants to groan.

What was it in here that Hadrian was so viciously defending? He’s lucky he’s read most of the books Hadrian had on protection spells for safety reasons but…

He digs into it, carefully plucking strands of magic from one another. He takes it slow, he’s not in a rush. The meeting had just finished- he’d left Arcturus at Malfoy Manor and he’d be back there later for tomorrow morning-

The last ward came off and the cover seemed to settle. So he plucks it off and gapes at the pensive innocently placed in the box. The water was still- serene, unspilled- and glowing white, because it was so filled with memories. There was no bottles, it was just- it was just memories-

No wonder the box was such an odd shape- no wonder there had been so many spells-

He stares at Salazar- who was also staring.

“Is that a pensieve?” The man demands.

“You didn’t see him do this?”

“Why would he? Memories are the most vital things that make up a person. The memory is taken out- but can never be replaced. He must have done it before he left to fight.”

“Wait- so he left us these memories- he went into battle without these memories? What if they were vital to him?”

“They may have been,” Salazar says sagely. “But remember that he knew he was going to die either way.”

“I-” Orion stares at the pensieve and gingerly lifts it out of the box to find a letter underneath. He sets the pensieve down and unfolds the small note.

To whoever finds the pensieve.

I hope I succeeded but if I didn’t these memories will be of great aid to you

-H

Orion stares at the bowl. He loathed the idea of going into his brothers head. It seemed so private- and yet… what had he thought of Orion? Were any of these memories, memories of both of them?

“I suggest you look at one memory and judge whether you wish to continue,” Salazar says wisely. Orion stares at the Pensieve. He knew… he knew when he’d found this place that he would find traces of his brother that he might not like- some things that might disturb him.

As someone who was profoundly grey, his brother had been the darkest shade of black there had ever been. Although there was always the strong light spell or two he used- the darkness only seemed to make his brother strong.

So he takes a deep breath, picks up the pensieve and places it on the table, sitting down on the chair- and very hesitantly, places his face in the bowl.

Let the magic chose what to show him first.

Everything was cloudy for a long moment before it cleared and Orion was sucked into something he’d never seen before.

“So it’s here?” Hadrian asks, peering about curiously. The Second Commander, Isaiah Nardenheim, nodded briskly, looking around the cave with bright blue eyes.

“This was where the scouts seemed to find it General.” Hadrian walks further into the cave, the small ball of warm light hovering in front of them. It was oddly plain and quite narrow- especially for their group of fifteen witches and wizards.

“What is the cave called?”

“It doesn’t have a name sir.” He frowns as it opens up into a large open space- water dripping from the ceiling to form a shallow lake but there must be a creek here or else it would have probably flooded during the flood season.

Hadrian wades through the water up to his knees and warily sends shadows seeking into the depths. It did remind him of the cave he’d explored with Dumbledore for the horcrux mind you and that was an unpleasant thought as ever.

But Neville didn’t know about that so it was impossible for him to torture him with that information.

There were two people on the other side, looking around with their wands raised, silver light pouring out to illuminate the walls.

“Dinosaurs,” the muggleborn says, gazing up at the half exposed skeletons and Hadrian gazes up in amazement- so much bigger than anything he could comprehend- some of them bigger than Ekkathion.

“Can he raise dinosaurs?” Lidia asks with concern, brown eyes glances at Hadrian. “I’m aware wizards are generally unaware of dinosaurs but if he summons them the havoc he could wreck on both the magical and the muggle…”

“They’ve been dead for far too long,” he reassures her. “The bones are one with stone and fossilised bone generally repulses magic.”

“Generally?” Isaiah pushes as the rest of the group catches up behind him. Hadrian looks up at the skeletons and glances at a tooth the size of his arm.

“Well… The skeletons are bones and the bones still hold DNA and memories. It’s not… if, he was to raise the dinosaurs, it would be in a very basic and broken form and it would likely consume too much magic for him to want to summon them.”

They all look up at it and a deep voice muses, “It’s still possible. Short term magic uses but high damage output.” The group turns to stare at the white haired wizard that observed the cave around him.

“I still don’t think it was a good idea to bring him with us,” Isaiah growls, jerking a thumb at him.

“I’d rather him if we get trapped in here than MAncer.”

“He won’t protect us, he’ll just leave,” Isaiah snaps back, motioning to him. “He’s an internationally recognised threat General-”

“He’s sworn to me, he can’t disobey me.” Grindelwald smiled, only slightly. Looking a bit mildly deranged- and still in his fifties even centuries later- Grindelwald says calmly,

“There’s no reason for him not to do it.” Hadrian fiddles with the Elder Wand, observing the wall of skeletons and frowns. “But there’s a deeper reason why it requires so much output. The joints need to move with one another but some have been fused together. However he can use magic to articulate the joints. But even then, it’s bones made of stone. It’s heavy. There’s no tendons or joins to absorb magi to help it stay together so it’s solely magic that would be keeping it together. A loss of concentration for even a moment means it comes crumbling down.” The room collectively frowns and gazes at the fossils with renewed worry.

“Damien what do you think?”

“I don’t have the magic capacity to raise dinosaurs General,” the youth says quietly, observing the stone. “Even if Garett was to help me I don’t think we could achieve synergy on something that won’t even accept one kind of magic.”

Hadrian gazes up at the monolithic creatures. What a time to have been alive. Without a doubt.

“If I was to force that synergy and give you the magic power required…”

“No offence General,” the old grey haired man says with a grim smile, “your power would likely just tear us apart on it’s own.” Hadrian ran a thumb over the markings on the wand and then wondered if he could use the resurrection stone to pull out their souls- pull out all the memories from the bone-

A black raven materialised on his shoulder.

{What do you think?} He asks Death.

{Since I am no wizard,} Death says wryly, clacking his beak, {I would advise you against it. However in theory it is possible. You have the authority Master, you only need use the stone as you see fit.}

Hadrian pulls off the ring and the ball of light in front of him winks out as a green glow emerged from the stone- slowly turning blue as it moved towards the dinosaurs.

As he discovered, it took a tremendous amount of effort to combat the remaining sharp instincts left behind by creatures so driven by their prey drive. The raptors snarled and something with a really long neck stamped it’s feet the size of a concrete column.

For once, Hadrian didn’t press it, withdrawing altogether and crossed his arms in mild frustration, looking at the bones- the glow quickly dispersing.

“I take it you didn’t succeed,” Isaiah asks cautiously.

“The instincts are still very much there,” he mutters, eyeing the bones. “If I can’t do it even with the vessel of death in my hands then it is very unlikely Neville will be able to overcome it. Dinosaurs didn’t have such complex emotions. Regardless I think nature has a part to play in it too. They aren’t meant to be raised again.” The room thrummed with apprehension as they gazed at the bones.

“I feel something,” Darien muttered suddenly and Hadrian withdraw his magic from the walls and the bones, turning his focus to Darien gazing the way they’d come. The room readied their wands-

“No, further into the tunnel, now!” Hadrian hisses, feeling the undead creeping closer. “Go!” Everyone turned and wedged themselves between the walls- lumos’s were put out except for one at the front and everyone groped in the dark with Hadrian at the rear with Grindelwald. Isaiah led the way as they ran as fast as they could.

Hadrian casted a silencing spell behind them and Grindelwald erased the spells signature. As loathe as he was to admit it, Grindelwald was a helpful ally to have.

He could hear splashing behind them now that their own movements were dampened significantly and the sound of cracking bones.

“Could he have tracked us?” Garret asks in front of him.

“I bet he’s tracking you and Darien,” Hadrian whispers as they find themselves on solid ground again. All sounds echo so even an apparition was too risky to undertake. “One imperius and you and Darien are his to control- or he could steal your magic from you and use it to aid himself.”

“You never mentioned what type of necromancer he was,” Lidia murmurs ahead of Garret.

“The growth type.” Garret grits his teeth.

“But the things he would have had to have done-”

“Do not get me wrong. He is not living. He is very much dead and he is very much a Lich.”

“But if we can’t kill him-”

“It’s possible to kill all beings,” Hadrian says harshly.

“Even you?” Grindelwald asks with amusement and the group becomes silent, apart from the scrambling of rocks and Hadrian glances up at two glowing red eyes trailing above them- the only thing he can see.

“That depends entirely on what kind of death you mean.”

“When you stay down. When you don’t get up. When nothing remains of you and you cease to exist in full.” Hadrian wondered if that really was possible but Death spoke nothing of it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever fully cease to exist. I have too much magic capacity for that. But yes. I will probably die and be unable to come back someday.”

“Does it not scare you?” Garret asks.

Hadrian huffs as he feels a crack in a boulder to climb up. They seemed to be careening for the surface.

“No. My death doesn’t scare me. Only the aftermath and the killer.”

“What about old age?”

“If I live past fifty I’ll let you know. So far I have yet to achieve that and look what I have to deal with.” The group get’s out a few chuckles and then Isaiah calls for a stop. They cast a quick protega spell as they wait in the dark. The light blue has a faint glow that looked more like lichen.

“It’s a dead end,” Isaiah calls out.

“Stay here,” he mutters to Grindelwald, moving up front past bodies and using the shadows not to step on them. He feels Isaiah’s magic and then Isaiah grabs his hand and presses it to a rather solid wall of what appeared to be slate- since some of it crumbled under his hand. “It’s unstable. It’s risky to stay. We must have missed another turn off-”

“There was nothing, no drafts of wind or water- nothing to suggest another passageway.”

He listens but he doesn’t hear any undead- or feel them. Darien and Garret hadn’t alerted either so Neville must be attempted to have his way with-

The walls rumbled ominously and then there was a roar that split their heads in two and Hadrian gripped his ears in an attempt to keep his hearing-

Death called out a warning and Hadrian managed to throw up a shield before slate boulders came toppling down on top of them- earning a few terrified shrieks-

And then the floor gave out beneath them and Hadrian felt rocks smash into him as he feel and frantically casted a slowing spell on everyone as they threw up their own shields.

“Shit!” Isaiah shouted. “Hadrian you have to cast wingardium-” he didn’t hear the rest as the sound of roaring water quickly became apparent but the rocks smashing into them and the interfering magic of everyone casting protega made it harder to keep the slowing spell on them. So he points the Elder Wand at them all and shouts,

“Wingardium Leviosa!” They all slow to a halt- and the remains of the boulders shudder them about until they stop inches from the water- and Hadrian felt like he was getting crushed by their collective weight against his chest-

Isaiah was casting something and it was giving him a terrible headache-

By Merlin he was going to get scolded for this.

“Can anyone apparate!” Isaiah shouts!

“Only four of us!” Lidia shouts back, some shouts of agreement from familiar voices.

Hadrian reaches out and makes the mistake of touching the water-

And like a light being switched off- all of his focus is sucked out of him into a mindless haze as he plummets into the raging water-

Shit- shit-

He casts a wandless lumos and narrowly dodges a boulder.

If he can adjust the current and add an air bubble-

He slams into a log- his leg getting cracked and feels everything in his body slam into an invisible wall of water- and it’s up his nose and in his mouth so he can only desperately explode-

He had been in front so he should be ahead of everyone-

He gasps in air and coughs out water as the group fell from the current into the air bubble- likely dragged by magic and there’s spluttering behind him from Isaiah but thankfully he got caught.

Somehow, it’s easier to create and maintain an air bubble underneath a river in a cave than levitate fifteen people.

He yanks his leg out of the log and someone lights a lumos- the white water surrounding them and thundering past at impossible speeds.

Hadrian kneels and attempts to breathe- taking deep gulping breaths-

“Jesus Christ,” Lidia groans, holding her wand up and counting everyone. Everyone was accounted for- soaking wet and cold but accounted for.

“He summoned the bloody dinosaurs,” is all Darien can say. “How can he have more control over the dead than you!” The boy demands.

Hadrian drops his head against the log.

Yes. That was the question. Unless it was the dead obeying the commands of the dead that gave him an advantage?

Death plops onto his shoulder.

{I apologise that my power was insufficient.} He glances at the two glowing red eyes and has to laugh a bit.

{There was nothing you could have done.}

“I’m making a portkey,” Grindelwald announces and everyone sighed in relief.

{Can you go and see if he’s still maintaining the dinosaur?} Death flutters of in obedience and they wait in silence.

“Do I have permission to connect to your study?” Grindelwald asks. “It’s the only place at the same altitude as us.”

“Sure.” Silence ensues before death returns and informs him,

{No. The bones are on the floor. It was a failure in the end.}

“He failed to summon the dinosaur completely,” he informs the group. More sighs of relief.

“Thank the Gods,” Isaiah murmured. Someone snorts and Hadrian looks up to see Nathan tending to a wound on his shoulder. Probably from smashing it against a rock.

“Well, that’s one consolation. He hasn’t magically acquired more power.”

“Oh you just had to go ahead and do it didn’t you!” Kristen accused. “You just jinxed it.”

“ I didn’t jinx anything,” the pureblood sniffed and Lidia actually laughs.

“It’s a muggle saying,” she explains. “Now that you’ve said it, it will happen just to prove you wrong.”

“Wonderful,” the pureblood glowered. “Remind me before I say it next time.”

“I can’t read minds,” Kristen snaps. The pureblood shrugs and Grindelwald announces,

“It’s done,” before the argument can continue.

Hadrian let everyone put a hand on what appeared to be the remains of a necklace- no- no that’s Albus’s blood pact.

He makes eye contact with Grindelwald who shrugged- before everyone grabbed a part of the long chain- and everyone vanished from beneath the deadly river of a cave somewhere in Northern Scotland.

Orion jerked out of the memory, limbs trembling and body aching- as if he’d been thrown through the same very river Hadrian had- and was very- very glad he was sitting down- because he felt like he’d just been dumped several thousand layers beneath the deepest pieces of the earth with no air to breathe-

By Merlin, what had that pressure been?

He gasps for breath and has to spend a full fifteen minutes calming down his heart rate.

Dinosaurs?

Dragons yes, but dinosaurs?

Those things had been huge- bigger than Ekkathion- and why had the memory been in Hadrian’s body with his thoughts rather than purely observational? Did Hadrian intend for it-

Who the hell were all those people- Isaiah Nardenheim? Who the bloody fuck was that?

He leans against the table, staring at the very many memories he had yet to see and covered his face with his hands.

By the Lord what was he supposed to-

The wards of the Black Manor shuddered and he sits upright- slamming his hands onto the table- who the hell had come to the manor?

He shadows up to the gardens and peers around, trying to find the intruder.

Except- he doesn’t find an intruder. He finds-

He finds-

He stares at the patronus- the giant sweeping patronus of Ekkathion- lighting up the manor in blue magic, walking through the gardens.

The patronus walked leisurely, as if it knew of the power it was made up of- although now that he was looking, he saw something in the dragons ribs. Like a dragon heart but slightly larger-

Haunting blue eyes were unseeing as they moved and Orion feels the Elder Wand in his pocket-

Grindelwald, Death- two necromancers he’d never heard of- How many secrets were there left to uncover?

The patronus dissipates, fading away into the sky before it reformed, flying and sweeping, aiming to the moon- as if on some mission to find something or perhaps retracing the steps of a master long since dead.

Orion watches it go until he can’t see it anymore and he clenches the wand-

Feeling thick tears trace down his face.

He’d heard his brothers voice once more. Even if he’d been wary- tired, exhausted-

And he’d seen Ekkathion.

You were right Hadrian. Some part of you still lives on.

Chapter Text

Hadrian stared at his portrait and the portrait stared at him- Remus looked between them with a look of inexplicable alarm.

For some reason, since early morning, everyone had been avoiding Hadrian and he hadn’t even run into Arcturus. Now he’s perfectly capable of tracking each and every one of them down but the energy is wasted if they don’t actually want to speak with him and he’d much rather that they didn’t.

But he does want to know why.

So he’s waiting for the portrait to confess. Which it won’t because Remus is there.

Instead he looks incredibly bored, staring at him- and the judging feeling he gets doesn’t go away.

The staring competition ensues.

He still sees the slight scar peeking out from the collar of his robes in the portrait- from a run in with a killer- and there’s still that nick by his ear- still that stupid arrogant air around him didn’t seem to go away- could nobody see how pretentious this guy looked?

Hadrian must be making a weird face at the portrait because Remus pokes him on the shoulder.

“Are you done staring at him?”

“No. How the hell did the Dark Lord fall for that?”

“Pup!” Remus hisses, the copy gave him a, ‘You’re me and I’m you. You’re talking crap about yourself-’ look. Then returned to looking at his nails.

“Look at him!” He motioned to the whole portrait. Remus actually seemed to have a visceral reaction as he dragged Hadrian away. “Hey it’s not offensive if it’s truth!”

“Honesty without kindness is just brutality,” Remus points out with a rather rugged tone.

“Kindness without honesty is manipulation,” he argues. “I’d rather be brutal.” Remus sighed deeply.

“You are too young, seriously…” I am not. I’m old enough to be your frickin great grandfather. Actually how old was he… forty-eight plus the thirty-four plus fourteen… He stumbles in his steps.

Merlins fucking uncle- he cannot seriously be ninety-six. Ew… he was twenty-five years older than Tom- does that count as grooming?

Oh hell no, he would not be going there.

“My wrist hurts can you let go?” Remus pauses and lets go of Hadrian’s reddened wrist with a sigh and ran a hand through his brown hair.

“Listen pup, there are people in here that would kill you for saying that.”

“Would Sirius?”

“No but Lord Black would.”

“He’s not here.” Remus stared at Hadrian with a furrowed brow.

“How do you know that?”

“I can’t feel him.”

“Can you feel everybody?”

“Yes. I know where everybody is. Thaddeus is strangely confined to the library, Reinhard is in the duelling room with Aiden, Abraxas is in his bathroom looking in the mirror as always and he’s been there for a few hours, Arcturus is having tea in the kitchen with Narcissa, Lucius and Regulus. Sirius disappeared a few hours ago for something and your here. I think I also felt Barty but strangely enough he’s in the Dark Lords room.” Remus blinked at him rather slowly and then said slowly,

“That was rather informal.”

Hadrian gave his teacher a snide look and said, “Would you like me to repeat what I said with all the unnecessary Lords, Ladies, Mistresses, Madame’s and Monsieur’s or-”

“By Merlin you are just like your father,” Remus groans.

“Well thank you,” he responds proudly. “I have a feeling he would have driven everyone in this household mad.”

“I would agree with you,” Remus says with a sigh. “But I think your doing it in his place.”

“I’ve already begun on Barty and you-’

“How did you know Mr Crouch- never mind, stupid question.”

“Very,” Hadrian snarks. The werewolf sends him a glare. “Can I bring my servant here?”

“Depends, is it the vampire?”

“Yes. The one Orion nearly put in the coffin again.” Remus sighs and shakes his head.

“You would have to ask Lord Malfoy.”

“Can I just go and ask-”

“No pup- pup!” Hadrian took off to Abraxas’s room, slipping past servants and bounding up the stairs as Remus called out for him to wait.

He slides to a halt outside of Abraxas’s room and knocks.

“Who is it?” In the fanciest voice he could, he responds,

“Room service.” Silence for a moment before the door swings open and Hadrian steps in- right underneath Abraxas’s arm. Is he still that short? Merlin. To be fair though, the triarii are all pretty tall. He’s certain Aiden is the shortest.

He glances around the room as Abraxas looks around and watches the man startle as Remus slides to a halt and hastily bows.

“Sorry Lord Malfoy. Mr Potter seemed to have taken off in this direction- have you seen him?”

“I believe he just knocked on my door,” Abraxas comments wryly. “Do try and keep him under control in my house Mr Lupin.” The werewolf bowed and then continued on down the hallway.

Amusingly, Abraxas’s hair was still knotted in the back which is probably why he’d refused to check behind him when Remus had been in front of him.

“That hair care routine must take you ages,” Hadrian comments as Abraxas closes the door and the blonde whips around, firing a spell directly at Hadrian’s head and he ducked- right before his head got obliterated.

“Mr Potter?” Abraxas asks in surprise before his face shuts down and he frowns deeply. “How did you get past.”

“People tend to look around before they look down.” Abraxas’s frown only deepened and Hadrian cocked his head. “Remus told me I had to ask for permission to bring my servant here.” Abraxas crosses his arms.

“Your arrogance truly knows no bounds. Draco may treat you well but you have yet to prove yourself to me,” the Lord growls, approaching rapidly-

Had he too, grown stronger? This foggy grey magic seemed absurdly strong.

“Right… So is that a no?” The Lord towered over him and then narrowed his eyes. The view made his heart beat and he gave the Abraxas a giant smirk.

Sensing his intimidation wasn’t working- the Lord frowned and backed up a step.

“That depends if you can control him.”

“Perfectly well,” he assures him.

The Lord made a noncommittal sound. “You’re in charge of him. I’m not feeding him.”

“Okay. By the way do you need help with your hair, you’ve been in front of the mirror all morning?” The Lord seemed furious and his slate eyes glimmered with malice and he pointed to the doors.

“Out, before I hex you and murder your servant.”

“Ouch, harsh feelings Mr Malfoy.”

“It’s Lord to you, cheeky bastard.”

“Language Mr Malfoy, it’s unsightly-” grey magic shoved him out of the room and he cackles outside the door and Remus immediately comes charging down the hallway. Hadrian couldn’t stop laughing but ending up choking as pain wracked through his chest.

Yes, that was karma he supposed.

Remus grabbed his ear with a surprising amount of force and dragged him back to Draco’s room. “What on earth were you thinking? Also how are you so fast?”

“You’re just a big adult. Werewolves are faster y’know.” The pinch became harder- “Ow- ow- sorry, it’s just a joke.”

Remus points to his room. “You, are grounded until further notice.”

“Oh that’s so terrible-” the door slams shut, leaving him alone in a room too big to be in.

Was he being foolish? Yes… Was he making the most of being a child? Also yes.

He sends a message to Edwin and Hedwig took it so Hadrian plopped on his bed again.

Shifting and flying last night had been exhilarating, however he really had damaged the scales on his arm-

He shifts his arms and looks at the damaged crush scales regrowing- not smooth and instead jagged. Although it didn’t look unlike newborn feathers.

He sighs, flopping around on the bed before there’s a knock on the door- Edwin couldn’t be here already-

He get’s up and opens the door- and looks up into red eyes again. A brow raised and Hadrian leans against the door.

“I’m not sure… what’s the password?”

“Do you have a password?” Tom asks, cocking Barty’s head.

“I do,” he answers truthfully.

“Then it must be… It’s your favourite teacher, we have to talk.”

“Those aren’t the exact words but close enough I suppose.” He steps aside and Tom walks in and he closes the door behind him with a quiet thud. He watches Tom- who glances around at the stuff he’d brought with him and the robes he’d asked for on the bed- and Tom turned a suspicious gaze his way. The lie comes immediately. “Anything on the floor I chuck on the bed during the day to keep it clean.” Tom rolled his eyes, clearly not believing it, but picked it up and sniffed it-

Like Hadrian would be that stupid to leave his smell on it.

Besides, he much preferred the smell of the real man anyway. “I would have thought you’d be more inclined to come personally.”

“Didn’t I tell you I was incapacitated?” Tom muses, looking at the book of insignificant drawings he did on occasion. Tom actually seemed to peer closely at them so Hadrian grumbled,

“It’s not my fault your disabled.”

“Disarmed,” Tom corrects.

“Perfect, let me sneak in during the night-”

“Scandalous-” Hadrian groans, slapping his face.

“I was going to say to kill you.” Tom snorts.

“You can try. I doubt you’d be able to leave this place.”

“Is that a bet?”

“Hardly… you’re an artist?”

“Somewhat. Wouldn’t Lord Black be able to tell you? He snuck into my house.” Tom glances at him and raises a brow.

“Most of them are Hadrian Blacks artworks.”

“I don’t disagree, some of them are mine.”

“Which ones?”

“The statues. And the one of the wolf, lily, moon and stag.”

“Who are the statues about?”

“Made up people,” he lies again.

“One of the statues looks an awful lot like Moriarty don’t you think?” Tom asks. He shrugs.

“I look awesome when I’m older, why not make a statue of myself.” Tom actually rolled his eyes, flipping through the pages.

“Why Nevan Longbottom if you hated the actual boy?” He warily regards Tom, knowing his words would do something.

The truth is- before everything had gone wrong- before everything had gone astray- before he’d even married Luna Lovegood-

Neville Longbottom had been a loyal and loving man to Luna Lovegood and when inevitably- Luna went abroad to France and had his son- she never told him. She turned cold- she turned away- and always, Hadrian had wondered if she’d known after all what her lover would turn into and had tried to stop it.

Instead, Neville had turned to Luna but he’d never been that happy- not after Hannah.

So when Hadrian had discovered Lunas body- the Necromancer had been besieged by such wrath Hadrian barely made it out with a four year old Nevan.

With his mothers eyes and her father’s face- only his personality was like Nevilles. It had been shy in the beginning and then grown into a fierce and loyal lion who would defend the children of Hadrian’s friend, the same person Neville had died to try and become-

“Hey-” a hand shook his shoulder and he pulled out of the memory, feeling dizzy and suddenly distorted and Tom gave him a worried look. “That was just a question, no need to lose yourself on it.”

“Oh…” He glances away with a shrug. “Artistic liberties.” The man snorts and Hadrian closes his sketchbook pointedly. There were some drawings of the Underground when he’d gone down there- so hopefully Tom hadn’t flipped to those. “Why did you come in here?”

“Well Barty told me you sustained heavy injuries and I’d like to see them for myself.” This time Hadrian rolled his eyes. This was the Tom he knew. An overprotective, mildly insane, needy bugger.

“You can’t heal them. We’ve already tried.”

“Be that as it may, no one has bothered to ask for the spell yet.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you- maybe not.”

“So you know what it is.”

“I used the same spell on him.” Tom motions to the bandages and Hadrian obliges, gingerly removing the bandages- revealing the severe lacerations across his skin. They’ll scar. He has no doubt about that. He can’t tell if he’s proud of it- or guilty.

For he’d used the same spell on Draco Malfoy.

Tom kneels and inspects the wounds- he believes there are thirteen or so- Neville had certainly got him.

Was it his fault that Luna had abandoned Neville? Was Luna the catalyst or was it just the second thing to make Neville go insane- had he already been insane before? Is that why Luna had tried to run-

Why had her younger self said he owned the grimm? The thought just reoccured to him- unless she was referring to death rather than actual Grimms. Or… Grimms were German. Had she been talking about Grindelwald after all?

And-

A bout of pain had him glancing down to see Tom attempting to heal one of the wounds but only prompting it turn an angry red-

“Ouch,” he says dryly. Tom glances up at him and Hadrian stares down at him. “Stop looking at me like that.” The man only smirked and then helped him rewrap the bandages before pausing as he looked at his back.

“Burns?”

“Yeah. Don’t touch, they still hurt.”

“Yet you still walk around.”

“I could probably walk on a broken back, this isn’t going to stop me from moving.” Tom wrapped him up again and then stepped back to observe.

“Only a fool continues to walk when he is injured.” He crosses his arms and squints at Tom.

“Like you’re one to talk.”

Tom smirks even more. “I’m not walking. Barty is. Go and sit down on the bed.” Hadrian lingers in defiance for a few moments, pointing out that he could disobey- and then walked to the edge and sat down in undefeated boredom.

“Won’t you need to sleep after this?” Tom shrugs.

“I’m trusting you still have that potion on you.”

“That’s a mighty assumption.”

“I’m sure I’m correct.”

“Unfortunately.” The man pulls up the desk chair and sat down, observing Hadrian for a bit longer.

“What was the spell?”

“Snape invented it.” Tom actually blinked in surprise.

“The boy did, really?”

“He’s like, almost sixty,” Tom laughs.

“If he’s sixty, I’m one hundred. What is it?”

“Sectum Sempra. It just cuts things really but it’s dangerous when cast by an undead because you can’t heal it.”

“Interesting.” Tom was looking at him funny again- tendrils of red magic creeping out-

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” the man says innocently, red magic prodding green and black as if it would prompt a reaction. Hadrian couldn’t keep the, ‘what the fuck are you doing’ look from his face. “I have to ask… this servant of yours seems to be three years older than you.”

“You lot talk quickly around here.” Tom leant back in the chair in amusement.

“Abraxas is quite aggrieved with you currently.” Hadrian shrugs.

“It’s true though, he has been in front of his mirror all morning.” Tom breaks into a giant smirk.

“Is that what you said to him is it? No wonder he’s fuming.”

“He’s vain.”

“Truer still.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.” Tom scowled.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Hadrian leaned forward-

“Watch me-” a hand obscured his vision and it was oddly familiar to what Tom used to do. Because it quickly halted conversation.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Abraxas may be generously lending us his house, but I am indeed his Lord so I control this property at the moment.” His breathe tickles his ear and he wonders why Tom is even doing this. The thought makes him cock his head and Tom let’s go. Hadrian only stares at him in confusion. Trying to figure him out.

The touches, the actions- none of it made sense unless Tom knew somehow, that Hadrian was- well, Hadrian. Was Tom trying to prove a point? Did he know? Or was he only pretending? Was he so damaged, he had to pretend to try and keep some sanity?

But even if other people find it strange- I’m me and I’d let you do as you please. Your mine and I’m yours- even if neither of us are really ourselves at the moment.

Hadrian knows that in Barty’s body- Tom wouldn’t go that far-

Hadrian clenches material on his pants and flops back onto his bed, wincing as his injuries hit the bed. He sighs deeply.

“Whatever. I won’t tell him.” Tom doesn’t laugh, probably because Hadrian reacted in a way he shouldn’t have.

“Have I offended you?”

“Would it matter even if you did?” The question was one he needed answering but Tom’s silence only greets him. “I’m just a kid. You’re the Dark Lord.”

Tom stands and leans against one of the posts right beside Hadrian.

“And you are a Dark Heir.”

Right… he supposes Tom’s love for him had begun with his power. But surely that wasn’t all he’d loved? He knows Tom is drawn to strength and his magic in particular- he’s always loved the caress of darkness- the sickly sweetness of it- the taunt of power far beyond human comprehension-

“I don’t understand you,” Hadrian murmurs at last, gazing at Tom with half lidded eyes. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t exhausted from everything. Not just the past few days- but from everything. From this life- from his past- from all three- from having to keep these secrets- It made him want to sleep it all away. Permanently. What would happen if he was to die- would Neville just stop? With his quest for vengeance fulfilled would he return to the grave?

“Few do,” Tom responds quietly.

“I don’t believe that. You are incomprehensible.”

“Do you truly think so?” He nods. “Why?”

“You’re actions make no sense, your mask is too complete and you come to someone who is supposed to, by power of prophecy, kill you. At the expense at the belief I have the potion ready to allow you to do so.” Tom tilts his head, gazing at the floor for a minute and then back up,

“Yes, I do suppose I might be a bit confusing then. Is that how you see me?”

“You seemed quite certain I wouldn’t kill you when you first came to my room.”

“It was mine, actually,” Tom points out, not that it get’s them anywhere. “But you can’t.”

“You’re not powerful enough to stop me if I tried.”

The man nods in agreement. “I won’t deny that statement. But your actions from what I’ve heard and observed have far since destroyed that belief that you are against me. In fact I’d go so far to say as you don’t believe in the prophecy.”

“I don’t,” he says immediately. “It’s one of the reasons I didn’t go to Hogwarts when I needed to.”

“Well…” Tom cocks his head. “With everything I heard at the meeting, I’m going to go ahead and say it is very likely that you won’t be returning at all. Just as you don’t understand me Mr Potter, as I said the first time, the feeling is mutual. If you would like to have your question answered… Would it matter if I offended you… yes, because I am gauging your reaction.”

“What are you, my therapist?” Tom chuckles.

“No, I am most certainly never fit to be anyones therapist.” Silence ensues for a while and then slowly, almost hesitantly, Tom asks, “Did you actually pull memories from those rooms?” Hadrian snorts.

“No. If that were possible then wizard kind would be pulling memories from Hogwarts and the Ministry at an incredible rate.” Tom sighs deeply.

“So you were taunting me.”

“It’s incredibly easy.”

Tom eyes him. “Did you just figure it out?”

“Everyone is defensive of him. Hell, Remus grounded me for insulting the portrait- and Abraxas but that’s not the point.” Tom stiffened slightly- imperceptibly.

“You insulted the portrait?”

“It doesn’t speak.”

“Yes I’m aware of that. Otherwise I would have a good many questions for it.” Hadrian hummed but couldn’t ask because they weren’t currently that close. Tom would probably choke him again- not that he didn’t mind that-

Oh nope- nope don’t get those images-

He closes his eyes and massages his temple.

There was no one ready for that. Not even himself, not really- he’s a child right now for Merlins sake. He’s fourteen- but he’s not really and he doesn’t have to be and he won’t be-

He stares at the ceiling.

“The potion is in the bag on my desk.” Tom removes himself from the pole to scavenge for it and Hadrian doesn’t even bother watching him.

Instead he closes his eyes, a hand on his chest and listens to him taking the potion. He’d prepared some before hand mind you- but he still hadn’t tried one himself.

Maybe he should- the blast of magic hit him.

He probably won’t.

“You should go.”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not you…” Hedwig flutters in through the window, no letters and he looks at his snowy owl that flutters over and settled down by his head. Her feathers are cold and covered in small frozen droplets. “It’s me. When you find the Elder Wand let me know.”

“We’ve already found it.” Hadrian glances at Tom who was watching him wearily. As if this too took a toll on him. “Orion happens to be in possession of it but it is your choice. If it brings you any comfort.”

“I’m not going to deprive someone of a life, even if you are supposed to be my opponent.” Tom gazes at him for a long, long moment, judging, contemplating, ascertaining- and then he sighs and opens the door and murmurs softly,

“Then I’ll take that as a kindness from my enemy.”

The door clicks closed quietly and Hadrian feels tears flutter to his eyes. In fact- it’s a torment of tragedy and helplessness that fills him next- tears falling down his eyes helplessly as everything comes crashing down in moments.

It was only the chill of winter wind from the window that permeated the room that kept him from spiralling helplessly into a pit of despair and depression.

So he remains silent, his lips and chin trembling in an attempt to contain this anguish.

Why does he have to be stuck in this tragic existence of a life- why must he be stuck in this body? Why must he go around living a half life- why must he bear the sorrows of other people and be unable to alleviate it?

Why can’t he walk around the Malfoy Manor and laugh with his real friends? Why must he sacrifice himself over and over and over again- why is it that his heart just can’t strengthen and handle the fact that that the people near Hadrian are going to get hurt regardless of what he does. He can’t defeat Mancer and protect his friends. It’s impossible.

Why must he still cling to his current ring of friends like it changes the fact Draco Malfoy died after being turned into an undead and Hadrian fled with his son to the moorlands? This isn’t Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was slightly idiotic, slightly bigoted, slightly too loyal and entirely too much Hadrian’s companion and friend and coworker.

Why does he cling to Hayes? Because he misses Orion and he misses Sirius and Hayes is a Black- he’s family.

Why Theodore- because he’s so much like his father, it’s uncanny.

Blaise Zabini? Because he regrets not having his friendship or being able to avenge his death.

Ron isn’t Ron and they ended up falling out anyway and Hermione is dead now-

By Merlin he’d just killed one of the brightest witches- but is that the truth? Had Neville not killed her first-

Even amidst these spiralling thoughts- he feels Hedwig move- only barely registering it and then the bed seemed to move slightly as someone slid in behind him. Someone taller but not nearly as tall as Tom, someone who slipped their hands around his waist and whisper,

“I’m here now Master.”

He closes his eyes slowly. The one person Neville couldn’t kill.

A vampire with the blood of a dragon running through his veins.

Hadrian grasps for cold hands and finds it the most reassuring thing in the world when he feels a pulse beneath those fingertips.

“I always seem to find you injured,” Edwin murmurs against the nape of his neck.

Hadrian, between all his thoughts and the stiffness of his limbs and face- the emotions trapped in his throat- could only sigh.

Chapter Text

When he wakes up, it occurs to him that Edwin is still there.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he mumbles into a pillow. Edwin doesn’t bother to move as the birds tweet outside in the morning warmth. Not that he feels warm in the slightest. He might as well be a corpse.

“You called for me.” He closes his eyes in defeat.

“I suppose I did.” His voice is small, insignificant, hoarse.

Edwin props his chin on Hadrian’s shoulder. It wasn’t often they slept together like this and it doesn’t particular make him feel any better besides the fact he was addicted to the feeling of comfort and love.

A few things don’t change he supposes. Being deprived of it for too long does seem to make you go insane- just like any drug would. Especially when you were given it in quantity by a lover that so adored you.

A lover that so confused you.

“Remus hasn’t come in yet.”

“He knows I’m in here with you.” Hadrian shuffles around and looked into red eyes- red eyes of a different kind. Red eyes with kindness and worry and confusion and honesty- Hadrian buried his head into Edwins chest- staring at the white shirt he wore. A hand gently steadied the back of his head and the only reason the seventeen year old was doing this was because he knew Hadrian was older than he appeared.

He’d known from the beginning. Although he doesn’t know how old- he knows.

Hadrian closes his eyes and thoughts swirl in his head.

Tom. He had been possessive, manipulating, observant and powerful. But Hadrian had slowly managed to soften the negatives. To shape Tom into a human and not a Dark Lord controlled completely and wholly by dark power.

Tom had been paranoid as well. Very, very paranoid and had been scared- desperate. Paranoid that Hadrian would turn his focuses to Thaddeus or Reinhard or Aiden. Or even one of the women. He had been paranoid that Arcturus would arrange Hadrian’s marriage to another family or even to someone within the family like Orion and Walburga.

He’d been scared that he wasn’t worthy of Hadrian’s attention- and honestly there was good reason for that. By Merlin when Hadrian had first been reborn as a Black he had enjoyed life. He’d become a person- he’d done things he never would have done and he’d become better. Until he’d seen Tom in Hogwarts and everything had just crumbled. He’d not hated Riddle, but he definitely had had no love for him either. Being in the same house made it quite difficult to hide such feelings.

Then he’d changed. Tom began trying to seek out Hadrian, his attention and his aid in classes. To the best of his ability. Which wasn’t a lot considering he couldn’t take a lot of social cues. So Hadrian had learnt to be expressive in the beginning so that Tom could slowly begin to read him.

Of course that backfired in the future when Tom was able to read everyone as Hadrian had slowly began hiding his emotions too so that Tom would understand everything. That could be marked as a severe failure.

But… Tom had been desperate. For his attention, for his friendship, for his knowledge. For his power. There was a time when he’d discovered his magic had changed from his first life and become harsher, meaner and stronger. And Hadrian had begun to wonder if his magic reflected the way he’d previously died. But now… now Hadrian had to wonder if Tom had ever wanted his friendship. Or ever wanted to hang around him because of who he was. Had Tom slowly fell in love or was it not love at all?

Was it all a ruse and Tom just had to act to keep Orion, Reinhard and Thaddeus close- to keep Hadrian close. To keep Hadrian loyal-

Merlin he wouldn’t put it beyond him-

A hand pressed to his forehead and the vampire comments softly, “You’re ill.” Hadrian ignores him pointedly but the vampire knows he’s awake. Can probably hear his heart.

“I’m sure it’s just a fever,” he rasps, his voice cracking. He opens his eyes and glances up at the vampire, who looked down at him with a frown.

“I need to look at your wounds.” He sighs and Edwin helps him sit up and indeed his wounds do sting this morning. More than usual but he could function if need be-

Edwin gingerly takes off the bandages- and winces. He looks down at skin that had turned purple and green- wounds that had turned dark red-

Well his wounds were infected lovely.

“I’ll go and get some things, just give me a minute.” He watches Edwin leave out the door and leans his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

Then I’ll take that as a kindness from my enemy.

He presses his palms to his eyes and bites his lip to stop from crying again. He’d cried enough.

That life hadn’t been completely left behind- but he had to start living up to his promises.

‘Fata viam invenient.’

He lets out a long breath and Edwin returns with a bowl of water, towels and more bandages.

“I want to go home,” he murmurs to Edwin.

“We are not prisoners here,” the vampire responds as he cautiously wipes the illness from his wounds as best as he could- as he used to do. “We could leave whenever we wanted. I would only imagine that Mr Lupin would be quite upset.”

“I never said I wouldn’t come during Christmas.”

“I know.” He gazes at his servant. He had to find Grindelwald and he had to go to the Black Manor- if it even allowed him in and he needed to get back in touch with the resistance General, Isaiah Nardenheim. If he even could.

“I should never have gone to Hogwarts.”

“You still have to compete don’t you?” A dark grin spreads across his face.

“I’m just going to destroy the bloody trophy.”

Edwin focuses for a minute as he gently passes over bruised muscle. “Is it possible?”

“I can. I just need the right words and for that I need my books.”

“I understand,” Edwin says with the dip of his head. Edwin helps him wrap his body and then when that’s done, Edwin picks out a black dress shirt, pants and ankle high boots. “I noticed you stopped cutting your hair.”

Hadrian plays with his shoulder length hair that he hadn’t even bothered to start paying attention to. “Would you like to?”

“Your usual?” After a nod, Hadrian moves to a chair and Edwin places a town around his shoulder and cuts his hair- until he can comfortably swipe it out of his eyes but it’s still a few inches long. It’s been a while since he’s looked like this he supposes.

But he feels lighter- different again.

He gazes out at the room and uses basic magic to move things to their order prior to Hadrian entering.

“I’m going to go… and talk to Remus for a minute,” he tells Edwin and the vampire nods, packing up Hadrian’s things quickly. He slips out into the hallway, walking down and wiping at his tired eyes and he feels very cold but he supposes that is the fever Edwin is talking about.

He locates Remus in the kitchens with… Barty.

Hadrian has discovered he can’t tell when Tom possesses Barty but it’s unlikely after last night that Tom would still be possessing him.

The interior of the kitchen is bland at best. White marble everywhere with gold accents- it’s overwhelming and too bright. But Remus stands at the kitchen and was talking lowly to Barty- before turning and looking at Hadrian.

“Didn’t I tell you that you were grounded pup?” Remus grumbles and Barty’s dark eyes look slightly amused, but he waves at Hadrian. So it’s not Tom. Hadrian waves back and looks at Remus who frowns, putting a hand to his head. “You have a fever… how are your wounds?”

“Infected but they’ll heal.” Remus looked alarm and growled,

“Pup, infections and fevers can kill people.”

“Not me,” he replies defiantly.

“I like the attitude, but I don’t think so. Wizards don’t get ill Hadrian, remember?”

“So it’s a magical fever, I won’t die. Moony I need to go back to the safe house temporarily.” Remus’s brows furrowed.

“The Ministry knows you live there-”

“Precisely. There’s stuff in there they can’t see Remus.” Remus shares a look with Barty and he wonders if they’d gone over this in the meeting.

“Are you sure we can’t send someone over there to get this stuff?” Hadrian shoots him a glare and Remus sighs, putting up his hands.

“I understand but can I at least come with you-”

“I have Edwin. And the Count is there so I don’t think it’s wise for you to go Remus.” The professors eyes narrowed.

“Don’t think that that will stop me-”

“No but I’m going to stop you-”

“I won’t let you leave pup, not without someone. So you can go up to your room while I get a potion to alleviate some of your pain and you will think about who to take. Even if it’s Barty.” Hadrian closes his eyes and shakes his head in annoyance.

“Fine.” He glances at Barty and shrugged at his expression. “Good to see your alive Professor.” Barty gave him a pointed look accompanied with a half smile.

“I think we both know I’m no professor.”

“You would suit a different profession. Like DADA.”

“I’m not taking Remus’s position,” Barty says in amusement. “Go rest Potter.” Hadrian turns and walks out the door, for a moment briefly feeling Reinhard near him- until it disappeared and he cocks his head in confusion. Again, they were keeping something from him.

Fine. He was keeping something from them and he’ll find any threats- if it even is a threat. Is this why Draco, Theodore and Hayes were so desperate for information? Because their parents and family all keep it from them?

He reaches his door but pauses when he feels Arcturus nearby. He glances up in hope to see his father, looking around down the halls but he doesn’t spot the telling black hair and blue eyes anywhere. He doesn’t hear a limping walk and he doesn’t feel an overwhelming presence. Just a feeling- like it’s being hidden from him- so he looks into the shadows.

And yet nothing. No presence. No one is even using the shadows.

He pushes open his door and Edwin is inside, observing a potion and the red vial. Hadrian places it on a pouch at his side and ignores the vampires looks.

“Did it go well?”

“No. We’re escaping.”

He grabs Edwins wrist and they shadow through the manor to the front gates and on Hadrian’s command, they open.

Revealing a muggle street that he walks down for a bit, he observes the road and when he’s far enough away so the wards won’t detect apparition-

He gently grasps Edwins hand and apparates to his personal room in the safe house and Edwin lets out a relieved sigh and Hadrian looks around his room with a stiff nod. He places his suitcase on the bed and wonders distantly, what Tom’s reaction to his absence would be.

“Is there anywhere we need to go?” Edwin asks. Hadrian remember’s his wand being destroyed but if he got the Elder Wand from Orion he wouldn’t need it.

“I need to go to the Underground.” The thing is… The Wizards didn’t even know what the Underground was. Which was good for Hadrian. At some point, the view of the Underground and the Underworld had somehow merged. The Underworld consisted of the drug dealers, the traffickers and the heavy old pagan ritualisms. All in all it was somewhere even Hadrian didn’t want to go. But the Underground was something he’d built up and it was where Grindelwald would be.

“Would you like me to come?”

“I need you to.” The vampire nodded and went to grab his personal defensive gear. Hadrian reaches into his draw and pulls out a makeshift wand, grabs a few guns and attached them at his thigh and then he walked downstairs where he discovered Dracula and a woman cleaning up blood on the kitchen bench. He had probably been forewarned by Edwin.

“Mr Black,” Dracula says, looking up at him.

“Count. You failed.” Dracula looked vaguely irritated- until Death fluttered onto his shoulder and the father of all vampires looked away with a grim look about him.

“Yes.” The woman looked between them, Hadrian waved her out and she hastily left.

“I asked one thing of you.” The Count glared.

“You cannot control me-” Death cocked his head.

“I am not a necromancer,” Hadrian says at last, taking a step forward, then another until he stood as Nicholas Moriarty in front of the count, “you are not immune to me. You’d do well to try and bite harder and perhaps not use my living room as a whores place. This is not your house, you are not welcome here. I gave Edwin and his father shelter here, but I will not give you shelter. You do not need it. Now get out.” The vampire hissed but moved and left the house. He rearranged the wards to lock him out and when Edwin came downstairs-

He was standing as Hadrian Morden Black. Taller than Edwin and his hair was tied up in a bun and a silver skull mask covered the upper half of his face and he fiddled with the blood pact around his throat.

But he glanced back nonetheless at a gaping Edwin, who flinched slightly when Hadrian’s gaze settled on him. He wore the black dragon scales Ekkathion had once shed as armour- with a wand because even if he was a vampire- he was a wizard and could use magic just as well as the next person. His education had been under Hadrian and he was half inclined to send the vampire to Hogwarts.

“Is this- is this who you really are?”

“It is.”

“There was a portrait that looked like you.”

“That was me.” Edwin straightened, confusion in his gaze.

“You are Lord Black’s dead brother.”

“I was. A lifetime ago. My body died with it. This is just… an ability I discovered I had amongst other things.” Edwin gazes at the body and asks quietly,

“Are the injuries still there?”

“Injuries carry over. It’s just the way it is.” He pulls down the collar to show the bandages. “But I’m going to meet some old acquaintances.” Edwin’s gaze is calculating behind a raven skull mask and finally, he spoke up.

“Are you the one who gave my father shelter?”

Hadrian bows his head. “I am.” Edwin’s gaze gentled.

“Then thank you, for also helping me.”

“It was my promise. Come.” They walk out onto the street and a simple notice-me-not has them slipping between the muggles rushing to work and they reach an old bar where they slip into and it’s actually jam packed with people-

Is it a meeting night?

He doesn’t recognise some of the people- but they’re all wizards and their magic collectively is quite overwhelming.

All of them wear silver masks- but none of them seem to recognise him- some only glance- some stare in confusion.

He reaches the bar and one Lidia Herezova turns around, looking older than he remembers- and drops the glass she’d been cleaning.

The shatter draws attention as the brown eyes blow wide in recognition and she just promptly bursts into tears, reaching over the table to bring him close and hug him.

“General,” she sobbed into his shoulder and he strokes her back as a feeling of warmth floods him. “Your alive- you’ve returned- you’re here-” He feels her shaking and feels her magic shuddering in such jarring comprehension that he’s once again whole and solid.

This was the thankfulness of a life he’d lived and a battle he’d fought and lost-

Yet despite losing, there was still the people he’d lost.

Murmurs ripple throughout the room- A General? There was only one General and that was Isaiah Nardenheim.

“How did you- no- no you’ll tell us I’m sure,” she sniffs, pulling back and wiping her face. “How unsightly of me-” He grabs her wrist gently and whispers earnestly,

“It is so good to see you again Lidia,” he tightens his grip in appreciation. “My wonderful, faithful alchemist.”

The glimmering wall of bottles behind her was not wine or beer- it was bottles of potions and alchemy- of trial and error- and the reason there were no bar fights- lest you find yourself turned into a pig or melted into a puddle on the floor.

Lidia hugs him tightly and passes him a platinum sovereign.

“Do be gentle on Isaiah, he’s been doing his best.” Hadrian smiled and pet her hand, moving to a doorway and holding the heavy thing in his hand. Worn at the edge from the amount of times Hadrian had fiddled with it. He holds it tightly. His exact coin he’d had decades ago.

He straightens and holds Edwins arm and walked through the wall- a similar spell to the Station 9 and 3/4 column, for the wall solidifies behind him.

Edwin gapes at the sight down below. It was an upside down pyramid and each level had something on it. The bottom was the duelling rink that he so often had spent time inside when there weren’t meetings, training the sword.

The second level was where the executives spoke and met, the third where the informants were, the fourth were weapons and missions to take on. The fifth was where one could speak privately and the sixth were the different entryways. The floo network on the far side, the bar entrance behind them, the underground tunnel from the train station and a portkey system room on the far right.

He slowly walks down the stairs and Edwin follows behind him, whispering,

“How many wizards and witches do you have?”

“Well… before I went head to head with Mancer and lost, we were at roughly one thousand four hundred but a few months before Hogwarts we exceeded twenty-thousand.”

“Amazing… How do you keep this quiet?”

“You don’t,” Hadrian responds. “It works because everyone talks about it. It’s mistaken for the Underworld which is why Mancer doesn’t know. The Underworld holds regular fights and dark things here to show that it’s a space used for that. A coverup. Some aurors come here to investigate but they don’t get very far.”

“Did you make this?”

“I did.”

“When?”

“When I was fourteen.” He walks down to the executive rank and doing that alone brings him a lot of attention from the informants on the second level.

A witch guard holds out a hand.

“This is for executives only.” Hadrian recognises her immediately and smiles softly,

“Lilibet.” She blinks in surprise- then outright shock as she recognises his voice. She looks older. She looked forty or so and had only been rescued from Neville’s forces. It was shocking to see her standing guard, decades later. He held out his Platinum coin and she took it slowly- eyeing the coin and then her eyes widened.

“General? General is it really you?”

“You’ve grown,” he says softly, patting her shoulder and she hands the coin back with trembling hands.

“Yeah well- I had to- to protect what you started. I- I don’t regret a moment.” He smiles.

“I’ll have to hear about it all someday.” Lilibet nodded earnestly, green eyes following him as he walks down and Edwin keeps on his heels as he walks onto the small platform overlooking the fighting rink, where the seven executives all turned around.

In his late fifties- Isaiah Nardenheim looked harsher- with white hair to his shoulders and a sharp beard- eyes as cold as glaciers and an expression of dark authority. He holds himself tall, his shoulder back and one hand on the railing, the other at the wand hidden on his thigh.

His mask is of a wolf and well… there’s nothing that’s ever suited him more.

The other executives consisted of six people who Hadrian had handpicked with his own hands and observed- with only one exception whom he still knew, but only as a commanding officer at the time.

It only took Isaiah, the normally composed, demanding and cold General- to fall to his knees for an uproar to shake the ranks. For the executives to soon follow suit-

And Hadrian understood more now… what his painting had meant.

“General,” Isaiah said breathlessly, “you’ve returned.”

Hadrian puts a hand to his breast and says, “Fata viam invenient, Isaiah. I found a way.”

Isaiah looks up- cold determination in his eyes and puts a fist upon his heart,

“Fata viam invenient, General. So did we.”

Hadrian smiles and walks forward, offering a hand to his friend and the man stood and embraced him tightly- laughing.

“It is good to see you my old friend. It is good to see you indeed.”

And with that, all the burdens of the past few weeks, the past few months- the pain and agony of the days that had passed, moved on- and Hadrian stood with his allies and companions again.

And word spread amongst the Underground that General Morden had returned and now stood to lead the ranks again.

Chapter Text

Orion dragged himself out of another memory, gasping for breath at the intensity of it all. As he’d discovered, looking through a normal pensieve was one thing- looking through Hadrian’s pensieve was another altogether.

“You must take a break Mr Black,” Salazar advised. He ignores the portrait, pinning his gaze to another memory- and burying himself in it again. It had become a drug- to be in his brother’s head and he wasn’t about to stop- he was close to the answers he needed. He was certain of it-

Rather than darkness this time- there was red-

Hadrian observed from behind a red curtain a scene of blood and vampires- being used by dark wizards as slaves and there was one in particular Hadrian had his gaze on. He needs to save these poor creatures and he will- It most certainly wouldn’t be hard.

Standing in the canopy of a balcony, he observes rough petrifying spells, incarceration spells and much more foul things to behold.

It most certainly was not something he wished to see-

But he saw. And he had to see to save them. He could not shy away from the sounds of agonies or fake pleasure- of the sound of pain.

He feels for the gun at his belt but the host of this event had long since disappeared up to a room and it was him Hadrian needed to kill for them be able to wreck this place without having him escape.

He glides forward across the floor and walks over to some vampires still magically controlled. Any could be returned or forced to do as one pleased, which served him just fine-

Except his general presence in the vicinity had drawn the attention of the vampires- and their aversion. Especially the long haired blonde with red eyes- of which drew him in inexplicably.

In fact, the vampire watched his approach with careful eyes and Hadrian placed his glass of wine on a servants tray and entangled his fingers in the magic that connected the vampire to the laws that had been instilled upon him- and forced the Vampire up onto his feet.

In nothing but a white shirt and black pants and basic shoes- he hasn’t been overly cared for.

Hadrian must seem like a boy to him. Because already the blood in his veins was old, his heart was creased with the number of years and his eyes understood the tale of time.

Something of which Hadrian understood himself- in a different and yet perpetual form.

“What is your name?” He asks, non-threateningly. The vampires attentions doesn’t stray from the mask of silver on his face- something that separated him from many others in this room. There were some- who wore masks. But not like Hadrian’s.

“Griffin.”

“You must be the elder then.” The vampire seemed surprised and then cocked his head.

“That I am. Does that delight you?” Does that incite you with pleasure? Do you want exotic things to toy with- to play with, to own . - Is what the Vampire was really asking.

Refusing to rise to the bait, he says quietly, “Perhaps it is merely morbid curiosity instead. Come.” He turns and the vampire follows. His steps were weak- his complexion looked thin as well. As they climb the stairs, Hadrian’s magic aids him up the stairs to walk by his side- and he murmurs, “I happen to be in need of a corpse and you are in need of blood. So I believe we can help each other.”

“I cannot break free of the oaths I’ve sworn under the Gais.” Hadrian glances curiously at Griffin, blood red eyes watching him.

“I have only ever read about the Gais. I would love to hear about them.”

“Perhaps you would be more knowledgeable by the name of the Fates.” Hadrian dips his head.

“But even then, I have only ever met the fates, not learned about them.” The vampires lips twitched.

“You actually seem interesting.”

“I try to be,” Hadrian muses, walking down the corridor. “All the same, I am plenty versed in oaths. You only need to declare yourself to another Master more powerful than the first.” The vampire curled a lip, revealing particularly impressive sized fangs.

“I will not remove myself from one cage to be placed into another.” Hadrian cocked his head.

“I understand you don’t trust me, perhaps you even fear me. But as a Master I can break your oath and I can grant you the freedom you so desire. As well as those of your coven beneath my feet.” The vampires eyes narrowed but he doesn’t immediately decline.

“And if you don’t grant my freedom?”

“Then you would be a soldier underneath me. I don’t generally take slaves.”

“Generally,” the vampire bites. “That’s quite telling.”

“You should be more than familiar with how obstinate house elves are.” The vampire frowns and they stop outside of a bedroom. He sees fear in the vampires eyes briefly before they become empty in preparation.

To hide in your subconscious is something Hadrian is familiar with- it’s something he knows very well and can spot it all the same. The vampire won’t fight Hadrian’s orders- but he despises what he believes Hadrian will do to him anyway.

He doesn’t touch the vampire as he Griffin walks past him into the room and softly closes the door.

“Did I not tell you that I’m in need of a corpse?” The vampire stared emptily at him and it did briefly occur to him that the vampire could technically be classed as a corpse- which would invalidate what he was trying to say- so Hadrian sighs and tilts his head. “I understand that there may have been a miscommunication.” A briefly confused gaze. “I am not in need of you. You are as living as I am. If you were a corpse, so am I. What I need is the man you call Master next door, to die.”

All at once that attention returns, to a laser point.

“You want me to kill him.”

“I can get you in the room. But I mustn’t be seen and my magic can’t be on him.” The vampire seems to consider it, cocking his head.

“I get blood and you get a corpse,” the vampire repeats, closing his eyes briefly and then laughing. “Yes, I suppose it was a mild miscommunication on your part.” Hadrian smiles slightly.

“Would you?”

“If you were to free me I would bring this whole place tumbling down,” the vampire growls.

“Good,” Hadrian says simply, moving forward, magic at his fingertips and the vampire stiffened. “I will not harm you, I will not take your life unless you try and harm me. I swear on my honour.” The Fates take it and the vampire relaxes slightly as Hadrian lifts his fingers to the vampires throats- feeling for the magic wrapped tightly around his throat-

Decapitation kills a vampire as easily as it kills a human. A brain cannot live without a heart and a heart cannot live without a brain. Although a bullet to the head, or a dagger may not- severing the head all together does. So it is quite amusing the fates place the threads around the vampires neck and not around his heart-

They are quite fine and Hadrian has to focus as he breaks them- using his mind and his fingertips-

He feels the threads slowly reassemble and then turn green and he steps back as the vampire reaches up to his neck and rubs where the threads of his last Master had been- before powerful blood magic drenched the atmosphere between them and the vampire grinned- pure and menacing.

“Can you do the same with my coven?” The vampire asks, hope in his dead eyes and Hadrian feels something deeper than understanding stir in his chest, something solid- something like camaraderie. He won’t say no. He won’t say maybe- so he says,

“I can. If you bring me that mans head. The shadow in that corner will take you into the room.” The vampire glances at the dark, misty corner and doesn’t waste any time talking to Hadrian- disappearing in a moment.

It doesn’t take long, as Hadrian feels the presences in the room- one snaps- another dies- and he walks through the shadow, remaining in it to see the vampire ravenously eating away at the dead Master’s body. Blood dripping down his chin- coating the bed sheets- there’s a poor vampire girl, barely fifteen and she’s crying- in silence, watching her elder drain every droplet of blood from her tormentor.

Hadrian doesn’t pull her away as he might have with a witchling. She needs to see the revenge-

And when it’s done- Griffin tilts his head back to the ceiling, watching the chandelier flicker- blood coating his chin and Hadrian would remember that image. He would paint it, most certainly. Against the gold and red curtains- with the corpse and the chandelier and the blood-

He get’s some clothes and walks out of the shadows, setting them on the edge of the bed and the girl hisses through her teeth and with red veins working around his eyes- Griffin turns his blood crazed gaze to Hadrian-

Hadrian snaps his fingers and the Vampire blinks, the veins fading away and slowly red eyes focus- observing Hadrian again and nodded to the girl, speaking in another language.

He’d have to learn that.

The girl changes quickly and Hadrian focuses on the corpse, walking around to reveal that the mans oesophagus had been completely torn out in the frenzy and Griffin was actually flushed with embarrassment.

“I don’t usually make such rough work of prey.” Hadrian waves it away.

“All of us lose control sometimes.” He observes the pale, fat face of the pudgy wizard- covered in rings, gold- like the rich villains in movies- the lesser evils usually. “He can’t have been tasty.”

He glances back to catch Griffin licking his lips as if getting a second opinion and then shrugged.

“He was no delicacy.”

“Clearly. You usually savour those.” Griffin’s gaze was still hungry as he observed Hadrian-

“I must admit I’m eager to see what you taste like.” Hadrian shrugs,

“Help me save your coven and maybe I’ll let you, who knows.” The elder vampire removes himself from the corpse and Hadrian puts a hand on the nervous girls shoulder. “I have to remove his magic and tie it to me, is that okay?” The girl glances at Griffin who nods and she whispers,

“Okay.” So he reaches for her throat and she flinches but he gently rearranges the cords- the threads. It’s much easier with the man dead and when it’s done- she gasps and again- that blood magic.

“Let’s go and rescue our little coven shall we then?” He shoves the door open and walks down the hallway- the guards had already sensed their Master was dead- and came rushing. Hadrian holds up a hand and whispers, “Mori.” They shatter into pieces of stone and sand, collapsing to the floor like ancient statues in a desert and Hadrian walks through them, hurrying down the stairs to where guests were being evacuated- Griffin and the girl tore past him and he feels for any vampire- one in the kitchen and when he shadows in there theres a woman standing over him. He stabs her with a knife through her head and the poor man looked relieved and shocked and terrified at the same time.

Hadrian get’s him some clothes- the vampire doesn’t let him get close to change the oath and so he just tells him to find Griffin in the main hall.

There’s one in the winery, there’s another in an office, another two in the libraries-

In the end, Hadrian is covered in the blood of other people with lots of vampires under his control. It is thought consuming to have so many live- pulsing bonds with living, intellectual creatures.

But he forces himself to walk to the main hall where it’s just a bloody free for all- and Griffin has to step in front of him as a few vampires leap at him- crazed by the sudden flush of food.

Griffin keeps them from coming after him- but glances at him with a bright red eye- and then returns to the situation before him.

“There was a lot more of you than I thought,” Hadrian comments, observing the feasting vampires. From as young as twelve to as old as Griffin- there were even vampires who looked like they might be from Egypt, Greece and Russia.

“Yes. It’s hard for a Master to take a lot of bonds at once so Mr Kreas generally took two a week. That’s at a similar rate to when he got bored.” Hadrian surveyed the crowd and it took a few more hours to redirect all bonds and it took at least half an hour afterwards of just standing still and trying to mediate the headache he got from so many feelings from all the collective vampires. At least a hundred or so- and the only wall between himself and them was Griffin and Death.

There was a niggling thought in the back of his mind to keep the bonds- to control them against Neville- he couldn’t raise them from the dead- they were proper soldiers-

But one look at the children told him that was the wrong decision so he focuses and gathers his breath as the unsteady bonds strengthen and the tensions spike as he doesn’t immediately release them.

In all fairness- it’s completely overwhelming. He’s never done this before.

“I release all vampires from their oath and bond to me and to be free.”

All the bonds dissolve immediately and there’s immediate cheering- relief- a wave of thankfulness and Hadrian felt slightly guilty for thinking of keeping them.

He turns to Griffin- whose gaze was scrutinising.

“What is your name?” The vampire asks suddenly. “I’ve never met a wizard like you.”

“ You , can call me General Morden.”

“Morden,” the vampire says slowly, cocking his head and then glancing back at him. “So you are a General.”

“Of a sort. It’s only a small army at the moment.”

“What kind of war?”

“An undead kind.” The vampire straightens and he lifts a hand before the vampire misunderstands. “The thought occurred to me but I don’t make the unwilling fight and I’m not about to put you up against the wizard of my nightmares.” He glances at them all. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

Everyone suddenly looked a bit uncertain, the celebrations easing and Griffin said slowly,

“I doubt Britain is the same to how it was may, many years ago. I personally, have nowhere to go.”

“How long have you been here?” He asks incredulously. The vampire curled a lip.

“I was passed down as a possession.” Hadrian frowned deeply.

“That…” he sighed. He couldn’t take them to Grimmauld or Black Manor- or even Potter Manor. Fleamont was using it… He scratches his chin in thought. Where else… where else… He has his study and he has the Underground… But the Underground isn’t a place to stay and the study, again, isn’t a place to stay…

So one of his safe houses? He has his one in London…

“I don’t have somewhere for all of you,” he replies honestly. The vampire seems to smile slightly.

“As kind of a notion as that is, many people here had homes or have places to go. Only around twelve of us don’t.”

“Well twelve I can fit in one of my properties, your welcome to stay there.” Griffin dips his head.

“It would be appreciated.”

“Well then. If you’d arrange yourselves or tell me when your ready, let me know. I have something I need from that guys office.” Griffin nods and he leaves the Elder Vampire to talk to his coven as he walks up to the third floor, pushing open a door to an ornate office- full of old grimoires and artefacts- ancient things and despicable things.

He feels along the books but there’s no hidden levers- yet there’s scrapes on the floor hidden by a rug showing there should be a hidden door-

Ah fuck it. He simply breaks it open with raw power and walks into the room where a grimoire on the Ancient Magics sat.

He picks it up and runs a hand along a purple spine and observes it’s reaction to his magic. How curious. A semi-sentient book. Not on the level of the sorting hat but sentient all the same. Perhaps on the level of a wand instead.

He walks out with the book in his hand to see only Griffin and eleven others remaining. Including the small girl and the kitchen man.

“Well then,” Hadrian replies with a sly grin. “Pleasure to meet you all.” He puts out his hand, “Shall we?”

The vampires grab his arm and Griffin grips his hand tightly- before Hadrian apparates to his safe house-

Orion’s head near split in two as he collapsed entirely- his body wouldn’t move. Like it was in a state of paralysis- his eyes were leaking and he can taste blood on his chin- as well as shit ton of sweat dripping down his body. He’s only wearing a shirt and pants but nevertheless.

“I did warn you,” Salazar says with a sigh. “For all his skills in magic, Hadrian’s understanding of how to use Pensieve were quite rudimentary. He ended up creating a different kind of magic all together. One that forced you to see it from his perspective- forcing you to think some of his thoughts.”

“Only some?” Orion manages to rasp, getting his hands to the desk and to push- except his neck muscles seemed completely fucked so he waits, panting.

“Yes. If you were to experience all his thoughts you would go insane. Not because of his thoughts, but because your mind cannot handle his brain patterns and your own. You would promptly pass away. It’s quite powerful magic and it took him a long time to gather so many memories.”

“Does he still have these memorieS?”

“Yes. It’s complex but yes. He has these memories.”

Orion closes his eyes. General Morden. He could have sworn he’d heard that before- but when? When had he heard the title of General being used-

Ah, at Hadrian’s funeral. There had been many people invited by his will. Not that Orion had been paying much attention to who was invited. But now that he was recalling it, there had been an Isaiah Nardenheim and Lidia on it. They had referred to him as General.

‘The General can’t be dead Isaiah- he can’t be-’

‘I’m sorry Lidia- he’s gone. But he’ll find a way back. I’m sure of it. If anyone can do it, it’s the General.’

He blinks as he recalls the words and then asks Salazar, “Did he ever refer to himself as General Morden?”

“That’s a title I haven’t heard in a while. Yes, he did. Usually when he was reading one of the many letters addressed to him.”

Letter’s Orion still had yet to open but was beginning to think perhaps he should- but his head truly felt like it was splitting in two. He should go back to Malfoy Manor and then maybe return tomorrow. He needed a good night to go over everything he’d learnt- and write it down so he could understand it later.

So he sat up, his muscles protesting severely- and stood, grabbing his coat with slow movements because it felt like he’d finally contracted arthritis.

Which is innately impossible but nonetheless.

“Thank you Salazar,” Orion tells the portrait. “I’ll be back tomorrow if that’s okay.” The portrait nods, beginning to become accustomed to Orions visits- and dare he say it- pleased.

Orion did need to get the Elder Wand back to Tom and perhaps stop hogging it but it was an interesting and intoxicating wand to use. Even for small spells- perhaps especially for small spells. They seemed so much more effective when used with the wand. There was no delay- no hesitancy… it was simply will it and be done.

He apparates back to Malfoy Manor to see immediately be passed by an enraged Mr Lupin- who didn’t bother bowing as he marched out of the front door and Orion stared down- and looked at Barty expectantly.

“Potter came to ask a few hours ago if he could return to the safe house to collect a few things- and Remus said no. Well… he left anyway apparently and we only just found out.” Orion glances back at Remus- who apparated just in front of the gates and blinked.

He’d completely forgotten about Mr Potter.

What an unfortunate soul.

“Ah, I see. Did he mention if it was a temporary outing? After all the ministry knows he lives there, they might try to… intrude.” Barty shrugged.

“He wasn’t really clear about it. But he’s caught a magical fever and his wounds are infected, or so he said. His servant, Edwin, appeared last night so he’s not totally defenceless. I personally think Remus believes the Vampire did something- sir? Lord Black-”

Orion was staring at the floor- a stark realisation dawning on him but the implications were so small-

‘What is your name?’

‘Griffin.’

By dear lord- the vampire he’d stunned- while it hadn’t been Griffin- it had been a relative of sorts. They had looked so similar- well… Edwin had been skinnier- younger, warmer but weaker- Griffin had been the harsh, fine boned vampire hardened by centuries of wars and possession-

But both were at the safe house that Hadrian had stayed in- and both followed a black haired, green eyed man- or boy in Potter’s case-

He remembers looking into the Underground and the vampires shoving back at them-

The same vampires Hades had saved?

What connection did Hadrian have to the Underground? Otherwise it seemed that the vampires had no natural connection to the Underground. Other than it being a dark and brutal place filled with the worst people… Did Potter have a connection to the Underground too?

“Mr Black?” Barty said with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve just… come to a conclusion,” Orion responds distantly, glancing back the way Remus had gone. “Until then I have a job for you Barty.”

“Yes My Lord.”

I will find the secrets you have buried brother. Sooner or later.

“Investigate the names General Morden and Griffin.”

Chapter Text

Barty was aware of quite a few things, having been entrusted by the Dark Lord and his second in command, Lord Black, to certain missions. For example espionage, sabotage, information gathering and other, less appealing things.

Now he was also aware of Hadrian Potter and his strange activities.

For a boy of only fourteen, his actions made no sense and neither did the company he had. Although it wasn’t necessarily Barty’s job to question these things, it certainly didn’t stop him either. His opinions were sometimes warranted by the Triarii and the Knights and thus he had to make sure he was no only a spy, but a thinker.

While he has no recollection of anything the Dark Lord does when Barty acts as a temporary vessel- he does recall some of the Dark Lords feelings himself and never has he felt more confused or intimidated by him.

It is not Barty’s job to question the Dark Lord- and yet he finds himself walking around London for clues- questioning.

It felt strange picking apart the emotions he’d experienced and it most certainly confused him that these emotions were felt towards a fourteen year old boy. He might even say it disgusted him.

Anger, hatred- self loathing (validly, Barty might say), excitement, longing, fear and something bordering on compassion. And yet there was lots of confusion, lots of it.

In fact, Barty would be surprised if the Lord wasn’t confused about the boy because there had never been a day that passed as a temporary teacher in Hogwarts that the staff members had not convened about Hadrian or that Barty hadn’t questioned the boys actions in his class.

There was no point in him taking Care of Magical Creatures- the boy knew everything and yet the creatures still avidly avoided him. Some still came to him- like the thestrals and he saw them. Which was only to be expected but…

Barty scratched his greasy hair and made a mental note to go in the shower but knew he would forget anyway.

Now he was in charged with a name he had only heard once or twice in his days exploring the darker side of wizarding society and a name he had heard at Hadrian’s funeral. Of course he hadn’t grasped the context in which it had been said but something Lord Black’s expression told him that the Lord had heard.

That was another thing actually. Barty may act like he doesn’t understand certain things, he might be a bit jumpy, a bit magically aware of emotional fluctuations which makes him more reactive- but he’s not stupid.

The Triarii seemed to forget this but… Mr Potter had not treated him as foolish. Perhaps irritated by his blatantly terrible attempts to become James Moriarty- but never had he spoken down to Barty.

Which he appreciated and he has a funny feeling that Hadrian Black would have also done the same. Mr Black had died ten years prior to Barty’s birth and he does regret never being able to meet him.

He sighs and then his shoulder get’s slammed into rather roughly- and the temporary contact sets his blood on fire- a temporary agony and then the contact disappears, the person cursing and he looks over his shoulder to see a long haired blonde man in odd clothes walking swiftly towards a pub not more than a few lanes over- which an unusually large amount of people seemed to be entering at a rather rapid rate.

He counts eight in the next minute as he watches and the blonde vampire was given a large berth as he enters.

What on earth-

He picks up the newspaper next to the post office as he walks to sit on the bench in front of the inn and reads, listening with his back to it.

“Did you hear?”

“Yes yes- Jack just sent a message-”

“By Merlin it’s been so long-”

“Hurry hurry! We have to make sure we don’t miss him-”

“Is the General really-”

“SHHH! Not here- not in the open!”

“Sorry-”

“Come on! We’ll miss him?”

General… General Morden? Could it be? He knows in the context Lord Black had intended- General Morden had the potential to be Orions brother. So if the General was alive- and had just returned-

Merlins saggy balls, he needs to go inside.

He flips the page of the newspaper, observing the lines and when it quietens, he bins the newspaper and walks into the pub.

There’s a harsh looking man at the bar, harmlessly cleaning glasses- the interior only has a few patrons who were looking oddly at one another, as if confused.

It’s not hard, with Barty’s skillset- to feel that the bartender is an illusion and magic is floating the cup- complex, strange magic.

He leans on the counter and the bartender glances up. He was ready to apparate in a moments notice, but until then he’d just have to bluff his way through it.

“I’m here to see…” he lowers his voice, “you know who…”

The illusion seemed to ripple for a moment and the eyes changed colour. The figure cocked it’s head and held out a hand.

“I lost it,” he said immediately, clearly noticing he was supposed to have something. “Some pickpocket stole it right out of my pants.” He pats the empty pocket and the illusion frowns.

“You lot, honestly, constantly losing them…” the figure grumbles, reaching down and Barty keeps his magic at the ready- but he’s flicked a bronze sovereign. The old currency- but it would be right on with Hadrian Black’s time. “Go on then.”

A test? Or was he just supposed to know-

Magic rippled in a familiar way from a wall- much like the Hogwarts station and he slips the coin into his pocket.

“Thanks.” He walks towards the wall and his palms are sweaty as he walks through- stepping into a large thunderous cavern- applause loud in his ears and Barty gazes around in shock. Six levels and each one was filled to the brim with people- leaning over the railings-

He walks down to the fifth level to try and look closer and he spots a group of people on the lowest floor- it looked like a fighting rink? All looking up at the people-

By fucking Merlin-

He pulls out a pair of spectacles that enhance his sight and gazes upon them as if he’d been on the second floor.

Is that-

Green eyes so bright they seemed to be glowing- a silver mask like a skull and black hair tied up at the moment- in fancy black clothes and all the others appeared to be deferring to him- speaking to him.

Barty had to blink, rub his eyes and look again-

To find those eyes looking right at him.

He jerks, lowering the glasses. Had he been discovered? How? Amongst the throngs of people- amongst the ranks- so far away-

What gave him away?

He waits- but the figure turns away and talks with a white haired man beside him. It’s so loud- and there’s so much magic it makes Barty want to throw up.

The figure looked too much like Hadrian Black’s portrait- was it- how? How-

“Sir?” He glances over to see a brown haired woman with bright green eyes in a strange uniform. The crowd around him temporary lapsed as if she was talking to them and she was looking at him. “The General has asked for you.”

“Ah- right okay.” He puts the glasses away and follows her- He might very well be walking to his death right now. This isn’t completely unlike what happened with Grindelwald all those years ago and it’s incredibly uncomfortable. However none of these people seem tense- and none of them appeared to be younger than twenty. Which was unusual. Usually in a rebellion the young were the first to be targeted- so what was this? “I’m Lilibet by the way,” the lady says with a grin.

“I’m… Brandon.” The woman smiles.

“Nice to meet you Brandon.” Well it didn’t seem like he was in trouble… “The General wants you on the Executive floor so he can talk to you later.” She motions to the second floor, past two guards. “If you could stay here for a bit, I’m sure he’ll talk to you soon.”

Barty nods but he seemed to be the odd one out in a crowd dressed in military gear- barring an older looking woman who smiled at him. He gave her a small, nervous smile back and just leaned against the railing.

Well- that was until he spotted a blonde haired vampire with red eyes- staring at him.

“Edwin?” He asks in surprise. The seventeen year old vampire glanced down below and then at him before awkwardly removing himself from the wall to walk over to him. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you not supposed to be with Mr Potter?”

“He’s… at the safe house,” the vampire replied stiffly, avoiding Barty’s eye contact.

“You left him there? Where the Ministry can get to him?”

“The Ministry can’t get to him,” the vampire said tightly. “But how come you are here? Your not supposed to be here.”

“Is it that obvious?” The vampire’s eyes darkened and he focused on the crowd down below. Actually- he can spot the blonde vampire that knocked his shoulder outside- who stood rather close to who he was assuming was General Morden.

“No. I just know you aren’t supposed to be here.”

Actually… Edwin’s gaze seemed to be fixated on the vampire in the ranks below.

“Is that your father?” Edwin chewed on his cheek and growled,

“It is.”

“Do you have a bad relationship?”

“No. We just don’t have one anymore after he ditched my mother.”

“Can I ask?” Edwin shrugged.

“It was just a fling, I heard. My mother was a witch and he was a vampire. I was a halfblood until I was fourteen and then I got turned by a vampire called Jack.”

“Jack the Ripper?” He asks in surprise and Edwin shrugged.

“Yeah something like that. He visited me when I was younger… when I was eight and he told me, go to this safe house. It’ll protect you, the person there will protect you, like they protected me. When Jack killed my mother and turned me- I ran and I found Hadrian. So my father saved me in a way. But he never really wanted anything to do with me and neither did his coven. I think I’ve figured out why now.”

Since Edwin didn’t elaborate, Barty didn’t ask- but it must have something to do with where they were.

He couldn’t ask incase it revealed he wasn’t supposed to be here but…

He can’t help but take notice of most of them wearing silver masks. Even Edwin was wearing one and he wondered if he was supposed to have one- before he spotted people in the crowd also not wearing some. Mostly on the top ranks. So the silver masks must symbolise something. Even Edwin’s father wore one- one that seemed to be a fox.

They were talking- the group of nine of them.

And then all at once- the skull faced General lifted a hand and instantaneous silence descended upon the cavern and Barty gaped at the control.

Even Riddle with the Knights and his followers had to wait a bit- this- this was something so militaristic and controlled-

“This is an army,” Barty breathed in realisation, just barely whispering in the silence that followed.

General Morden- Which means there had to privates, Lieutenants, Commanders, Colonels-

Edwin only puts a finger to his lips in silence.

“It’s been a long time,” the General speaks up, turning to address everyone with a sonorous. “It’s been a very long time and I see many familiar faces- I also see many familiar faces missing and for everyone who fell in battle, to everyone who lost a friend, a comrade-” the General put a fist to his chest, “I see you. I know what you have done and I know the sacrifices you all had to make.” The room followed and put a fist to their chests- the movement of clothing rustling in unison. “My sorrow is that I wasn’t able to fight with you, I wasn’t able to protect you- I only hope that I succeeded in stalling for more time.”

The room murmured- but not in disapproval- but in thanks.

The figure looked around, lowering his hand and gazed up at them all. “But I’m back now!” He shouts and the room roars with cheer- “I’m back and I will fight by your side!” There was whistling and Barty felt it in his very bones- jarring and sudden- the reverberations through the floors running up his legs- through his hands on the railing- The General calls for silence again- and it ends, just like that-

Like he had silenced them all with a spell.

“I can feel you all,” the General says and Barty spots mad grinning amongst members of the crowd. “You have grown far, far stronger than from when I was with you all last. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels intimidated by it.” Some low chuckles around the room and Barty feels like there is a joke he isn’t understanding. But the General is smiling amongst his companions and then says, “We will make him pay for every life he has taken, every body he’s stolen and every poor soul he won’t let rest. Do you hear me!” The crowd roared and angry magic lashed out everywhere- giving Barty a poor headache that he would have to remedy later. “I will be conversing with my Generals and Executives, anyone who has information to report come to the Informant Levels and report to one of the twelve Scribes! New missions will be posted within the week with squadron reorganisations! Be prepared to receive new orders!”

The room cheered and Barty turned to Edwin- but even he seemed mighty vexed.

“So… I was called down here, were you?”

“No, I’m allowed on this level,” Edwin said with a shrug. “You seem to have been called forth. The General wants you for something.” Barty glances at the General who was currently talking to who he assumed to be his executives.

How the hell was he going to report this to the Triarii?

He just has to somehow confirm if the General is Hadrian.

“What’s this a war against?” He asks quietly. Edwin sighed.

“You really… It’s against Mancer.”

“Mancer is one man-”

“He’s an organisation,” Edwin interrupts. “Mactator is his doing and sprung up after 1960. It would seem he didn’t see any benefit in getting himself involved.”

Well yes- Mactator is who the Triarii were fighting against… But they had always been confused by their actions. They acted as if they were being chased- or being attacked elsewhere outside of what Tom planned- but the Triarii never came upon other groups and the Knights of Walpurgis were not nearly as big as this. But now it made sense. They had been relying on information provided by one group- and another group as hidden and powerful as this one would have been easily able to avoid the Knights prying.

How amusing. Two military groups fighting the same person- and it would appear the only wall between them was Hadrian Black.

“Do I just… wait?”

“It would appear so. Some of them will leave I think.” Edwin eyed the ranks but most of them had moved to the second ring where they were talking to people and some were on the third- looking at boards and talking to people behind desks.

This… this was more like what Wizarding society should be like. An actual community and not just purebloods reigning over the world like Kings. There was only Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and the Ministry for wixen. There was no where else barring their homes.

Why? Because they were oppressed and hidden away from the muggles.

Barty doesn’t catch any conversation from nearby people and the woman that had smiled at him earlier also descended to talk to the General.

Eventually- perhaps a few hours later, far past the curfew Barty had been given to report for the day, the ranks had emptied and General Morden walked up to him-

And by Merlin did Barty want to run immediately.

The intensity of his gaze- his domineering presence and the way he carried himself-

Yeah, Barty wanted to run. Every muscle- every bone was prepared to flee and the General only smiled at him from behind that eery silver mask.

The blonde haired Vampire walked towards Edwin and they talked- not that Barty could focus much on it.

“Bartemius,” the man said. Barty’s hands twitched in an attempt to keep from scratching his neck.

“Um- General.” A grin of pure white entertainment.

“Well it’s been a while since someone has been able to enter without permission, most certainly. Impressive, I must say.” Barty could sense this going wrong from miles away and retreated a step.

“Yes well- curiosity got the better of me,” he jitters, avoiding eye contact, trying to appear as small and non-threatening as possible. The General clucks his tongue.

“Well Bartemius, you should know that curiosity killed the cat.” And because Barty’s tongue got ahead of him, he choked out,

“Satisfaction brought it back.”

“Well Mr Crouch, are you satisfied?”

No. He was scared shitless and that wasn’t a nice feeling to have. The figure before him looked as young as he was- yet how could there be such a staunch difference?

“I- I think so sir.”

He could feel other people watching him- his skin was crawling and he wanted nothing more than to go unnoticed- hide in the shadows- be unobserved. Like how the Triarii treat him-

Merlin he hadn’t even realised how awful this was-

An hand gripped his arm and pulled him somewhere- and Barty stumbled, looking at the tall man from behind, managing to pick up his feet enough to discover they were walking towards a covered balcony that one would use to observe the talks-

The General let go and Barty quickly righted himself- the blonde Vampire and Edwin had followed but lingered roughly three or so metres away.

“I’m more than well aware that you are a spy but I would have thought perhaps the dangers of this place would have dissuaded you.” Green eyes pinned him like a rat to a poison trap on the floor.

“I- This- I-”

“Gather your thoughts Barty,” the General says with a frown. So Barty pauses, barely breathing and manages to get out,

“It’s not, like what I’ve heard,” he breathes, exhaling useful oxygen.

“Hmm… I suppose it was quite calm today. It was just a quick meeting to discuss Mancer’s invasion of Hogwarts.”

“You… you’ve been away for a while?” Green eyes seem mirthful, almost.

“Quite a while yes. Though I came here on occasion under a different name. I do wonder how much you are going to tell that Lord of yours.” Barty stiffens.

How much did this General know- and how?

“I- I have to tell him,” Barty says lowly.

“Then tell but don’t show,” Morden warns, eyes darkening. “Do you understand what I am telly you Mr Crouch?”

“Don’t- don’t let him see into my head?”

“Yes. No Legilimency and no pensieve. It can’t be too hard can it?”

If he knew what Barty was here for- if he knew- then what more does he know? How much more harm can he do?

The panic had Barty quietly clawing at his hands- he wants to leave-

“Is- is that all General?”

“For now,” the man muses. “You may be welcome to return- although I hope you won’t abuse this coin.” In-between two fingers- was the bronze coin Barty had been given-

He pats down the pocket he’d placed it in and stared at the General whose smirk seemed to stretch wide.

“Then I think I’ve made the rules clear Mr Crouch.” He tosses the coin to Barty and he scrambles to catch it, pocketing it quickly. “Fear is useful Mr Crouch, but terror is not. You should work on it.” The General walked away to the white haired man and the long haired vampire who watched him with sharp red eyes before dismissing him.

Barty hauled ass out of there- terror giving him temporary wings to slam through the exit into the inn and out- the moment his foot collided with the foot path-

He was gone.

Chapter Text

Hadrian bathed in the company of his friends in the inn as they sat and drank butter beer, fire whiskey and a variety of other drinks. He smiled softly, memorising their faces and reminiscing. He had been violently quizzed by them to ensure it really was him and after confirming some rather embarrassing memories- they had acquiesced and stopped.

The pub was rammed with people from the Underground who kept sneaking glances over their way- and admittedly, they had stolen heaps of the tables to clump it all together.

“So what’s it been like for you?” Isaiah asks boldly from opposite Hadrian. He glances up from his butter beer and tilted his head in preparation of what to say.

“Hard,” he admits truthfully. “I’m a dead man and only you lot know about my status.”

“So even Riddle doesn’t…”

“Tom,” he says carefully, staring at the froth of the beer, “is different.”

“For better or worse?” Freda asks, leaning on the table. The mission director and someone who had gone through life and death with him. Her hair had begun to turn grey and her eyes were dark blue- but more full of experience than they had been previously.

“I’m not completely sure. He attempted some dark magic and is currently in a constant state of astral projection.”

“What?” Lidia demands. “But the magic capacity required for that would be-”

“Incredible,” Isaiah muttered, a pointed look at Hadrian. “That kind of power could be useful against Mancer.”

Hadrian sighs. This again. “Listen I’m not doing this again-”

“Well we need to do this, one of his spies just infiltrated our ranks quite incredibly.” Lidia clears her throat in offence,

“We knew who he was. The General wanted him there.” Isaiah glared at Hadrian.

“What? So we let him in? Bartemius is the son of Crouch! He is dangerous Hadrian. The Ministry-”

“Is of no threat to us at the moment,” he interrupts, eyeing Isaiah. “They are aware we exist and they are aware that Mancer exists.”

“Because of the Potter boy, what are we going to do about him?” Freda asks. “If Mactator and Mancer are after him to the point of accusing him of murder-”

“Firstly, he did murder them both,” Hadrian defends sharply. “Secondly I have yet to make a decision on that.”

“Well it’s not just your decision is it?” Cade says tightly, a member of the Carrow family by great distances. Black eyes stared at him. “Fleamont Potter was our ally too for a while. He fought beside Nathan, Kristen Mord, Janine, Phillipa and Lincoln. We must protect the legacy he left behind. We must!” The informant executive seemed rather agonised- and Edwin was casting glances at him.

Hadrian looks away from them both.

The only one who knew- the only one- sat on his left.

The only one who knew he’d been Harry Potter first before everything else- and a hand settled on his knee in what little comfort the vampire could offer.

By Merlin was the boys name even Hadrian or Harry? It was meant to be Harry- Fleamont had called him Harry. But the name pulled out of the goblet had been Hadrian-

Hadrian stared at the table in realisation and whipped around to Edwin- startling the Vampire.

“It was Mancer.” The vampire blinks- before everything cleared.

“You mean the goblet?”

“Yes-” because legally his name was Harry Potter. It was not the boy, Neville had called. It was Hadrian in Potter’s body.

Hadrian Potter.

And he hadn’t caught it because he was so damned used to his name being Hadrian that he forgot- even if Fleamont’s diary had repeatedly said Harry.

“By Merlin I didn’t even fucking realise,” Hadrian swore. Was Neville planning on recreating one of the most traumatic moments in his first life? What would happen in the third scenario? Merlin Neville wasn’t hiding-

He was waiting.

“Sorry am I missing something?” Isaiah asks in confusion.

“I know who put the boys name in the cup,” Hadrian says immediately. Even Griffin was looking at him strangely- Gods he’d missed that face- “It was Mancer.”

“But why would Mancer try and kill him before if the Tournament could just do it for him?” Lilibet asks hesitantly.

Hadrian shares a look with Griffin- red eyes narrowing before seeming to remember the memory Hadrian had shared- and widening all at once.

“The Third Task. Do you really think he’s bold enough to do that?”

“I don’t know, but we already know the security measures around Hogwarts are lax,” Hadrian points out. Crouch Snr beings manipulated by an Imperio- Mad-eye moody being replaced with Barty- He was about to mention Krum’s run in with Mactator but couldn’t- because he isn’t supposed to know that. So he closes his mouth and returns his gaze to the table. “Potter is already at my safe house,” he says slowly. “With Edwin.”

The group glances at the vampire who shrugged.

“He’s protected-” except for Orion- “and safe. There is nobody getting through those wards without me knowing about it.” Except for family and trusted people but that was beside the point.

“Well at least something’s going right,” the officer, Maxwell, points out. The blonde was actually American but had at some point moved over to England after the Second World War. He was Freda’s trusted friend so Hadrian knew he could trust him. To an extent of course, but trust nonetheless.

“Tell me about Fleamont,” Hadrian requests.

The table sighs.

“He was… incredibly desperate but it never effected his fighting ability,” Isaiah admitted. “We never did promote him but he was already one of our most capable people through the years. Faithful to our cause and eager for revenge but not clouded by it.” Lidia nodded slowly.

“He talked about you,” Cade said quietly, staring at the table. “Often. I almost would have thought you’d powdered him with a love potion,” Cade jokes- the joke hit Hadrian in the heart like a knife.

His face must have displayed that too because Cade winces and mutters, “Sorry.”

The food arrived and the group was quiet as they ate. The atmosphere had become tense but that was mostly because of Hadrian. Even his silence was taken note of- weighed, observed. He did miss the control- he didn’t miss the wariness.

“Listen, Fleamont and I had a relationship that was the closest of friends as we were allowed to get,” Hadrian admits at last. Because it was true. They’d been much more than just potion buddies. It had grown to the point that Tom had actually felt the need to keep an eye on Fleamont during their years at Hogwarts and got increasingly defensive of Hadrian when the three of them were in the same room.

Of course Tom had grown used to it eventually and stopped being such a supervisor over Fleamont and Hadrian’s relationship when it was clear there was nothing harmful there.

Hadrian only fears his reaction when he discovers Griffin.

It’s not like Hadrian had been cheating- Merlin had he been? Was it? It felt like two different lives- he didn’t want to be disloyal- he wasn’t- he was confused but Tom…

The blood pact tightens around his throat to the point he can feel it cutting into his skin and Griffin’s grip tightens on his leg. Hadrian barely manages to cover up a pained wince and was quick to empty his thoughts.

“Did he help you guys get any closer?”

Lidia barked a laugh, which was a surprise from the generally soft looking woman. “Did he help us get closer? Merlin that man was a bloody fucking beacon. Anywhere he went, Mancer followed. Trouble seemed to always find him.”

Good to see some things remain in the bloodline.

“It was quite often surprisingly to see how eager Mactator and Mancer were to hunting him down,” Maxwell agreed, poking at his potato salad. “And downright scary. He seemed intent on taking him out before 1980- and then it just stopped.” Maxwell shrugged.

Had Mactator been trying to remove Hadrian’s family in retaliation to the fact Neville knew Tom wouldn’t do it?

Hadrian stared into his gravy like it might divine his much needed solution.

He misses his friend- his best friend-

He took a deep breath- exhaled and picked up his butter beer- drowning that thought away in alcohol. If this was how he was going to keep doing it- he was going to probably pass away from alcohol poisoning before he begins to feel happy.

He hadn’t properly grieved Fleamont’s death- he had accepted when he lived in London with Edwin that Fleamont was dead- had passed away from Dragon Pox like the first run- and then hadn’t been and then he’d died anyway-

And Hadrian had somehow been with him all along and yet not there at all.

Was there a way to bring him back?

Hadrian massaged his brow. Surely his powers could bring Fleamont back… he’d burned the body but… if even a strand of him survived-

Useless thoughts. Drunken thoughts.

“We managed to plow through them though,” the front line commander Garrett says with a shrug. He’d been on many missions with Hadrian and Isaiah- usually leading a squad. “He was a fucking war machine that man. Old age didn’t take anything from him but it gave me back troubles.”

The group laughed a bit at the Scottish viking man who heaved out a laugh. Hadrian also mustered a quiet laugh.

“Damn straight,” Isaiah agreed, holding up his glass of fire whiskey.

Hadrian listens to some war stories and Griffin explains a few things to Edwin.

Their reunion had been bittersweet. It wasn’t that Griffin hadn’t missed Edwin- he had. He also hadn’t known if the boy had even survived the turning or gathered the guts to drink someones blood. He did of course near suck Hadrian dry but not the point.

Hadrian leans his head against Griffin as he listens to stories of a fierce battle in Northampton that took too many good wixen. A strategic encirclement battle in Ipswich, a violent bloody brawl in Norwich and a battle of terror tactics all through Blackpool, Leeds, York and Hull that also was considered a war of attrition. They called it Operation Fall-through and it took three years- three years when Fleamont’s ability to get them supplies became the sole factor to their ability to continue. The Unspeakable’s had been forced to temporarily join hands with them without the Ministry knowing but it no doubt would have been cleverly filed and hidden somewhere in the Department of Mysteries.

Hadrian’s thoughts darkened with each battle- each brawl, each fight- each year they combed through meticulously.

There were months of silence but the longest silence was most certainly 1981-1994. After he’d killed James and Lily Potter and then when he’d most recently attacked Hogwarts.

Hadrian sipped on fire whiskey, feeling the effects and the slurring words from Garret, Maxwell and Freda told him similar stories. Isaiah never drunk too much and Lidia was a teetotalist. She had never once touched alcohol and she never would. She called it a potion that aided in stupidifying the good wixen. And probably rightfully so.

At one point Hadrian had been a rowdy and cheerful drunk- not enough to be obnoxious or a handful- but now, he just sat and quietly observed his friends, feeling his spirits sinking even lower.

He should stop- but the burn was it’s own punishing reminder of what he’d foolishly done.

At some point Lidia demanded everyone in the inn return home- and everyone was forced to comply lest they warrant her wrath.

Soon- Hadrian’s focus would crumple and he would lose his appearance so it was best he head off too.

He stumbled to his feet and Griffin caught him- because of course, Vampires don’t get drunk. Freda kissed his cheek.

“I’m so glad your back Hades. Next time don’t take so damned long but it’s good to know you didn’t abandon us.” Hadrian managed to grasp her elbow and pull her into an awkward one armed hug.

“I would never abandon you or the cause.” She swept his black hair off his forehead and smiled.

“You turn into an absolute sop when you are drunk My Lord.” He chuckles, having not heard that title from a wixen in a long while.

“I’m no Lord,” he replies and Griffin hoists his arm up over his shoulder.

“Make sure he get’s home in one piece Lieutenant, can’t lose him now.”

“I don’t intend to let him out of my sight,” the vampire replies and Hadrian stares at him.

Freda waves him out, hiccuping. “You er- better keep yer promise vampy.”

Hadrian snorts in amusement.

“Vampy…” after considering it for a moment, he keels over into laughter- and Freda broke out into laughter too- practically sobbing with it. Freda howled and Hadrian felt obliged to join her- sinking to the floor when his legs gave out.

There was something so amusing about the worlds most terrifying vampire barring the Count himself- being called vampy by a fifty-sixty something year old witch- especially when he could see how disgruntled it made him- oh it was positively hilarious.

He couldn’t catch his breath and Lidia tittered.

“Boy you will be the death of me, as much as I don’t want to let you out of this place General, you make a terrible drunkard.”

“Vampy,” Hadrian repeats with a laugh, pointing at Griffin. “Griff whad’yr thin’?”

“By Merlin have mercy on my soul,” Griffin groaned, picking him up by the waist and yanking an arm around his shoulder tighter. “We’ll get going now.”

“Ta ta shadow man!” Freda laughs and Hadrian sniggers on the way out, stumbling down the sidewalk. Griffin doesn’t bother taking off their masks but a drunken man on the sidewalks, laughing at nothing while stumbling generally was seen as normal and more or less acted as a deterrent anyway.

Griffin doesn’t apparate because that may very well cause him to throw up and calls the Knight Bus- the bumpy ride and Griffins less than amused face has him having fits with Edwin- who isn’t drunk but finds Hadrian’s reactions to his father more than amusing.

They stumble up the stairs to the house and Edwin graciously opens it.

“Well, it’s no Black Manor or Grimmauld Place,” Griffin comments and Hadrian sighs, having finally found his breath.

“I s’pose not.” Griffin sits him down on the couch and his injuries are beginning to hurt now- Griffin sniffs and while had known Hadrian was injured, had not stopped him from having a good time. But from his face, Hadrian could tell the pestering would begin soon.

“Edwin go and grab some bandages and water.” The vampire complied surprisingly easy but he supposes his father must have some kind of hold over him. Just like a sire has over the vampire they turned. Speaking off… Jack the Ripper was still alive wasn’t he?

Hadrian should add him to his hit list-

Griffin tugged his shirt open and eyed the bandages. “When did this happen?”

“Hogwarts.”

“I think you are going to need to explain a bit more thoroughly. You and Edwin are keeping secrets.”

“And you aren’t?” Hadrian grumbles, tilting his head back as he stared up at Griffin. The vampire twitches and bares his fangs.

“I can protect my secrets. Edwin isn’t even an adult and you are just barely holding together.”

“Is it that easy to tell?”

Griffin sighs and begins unwrapping his bandages, grimacing at the sight. “No. But you are tired and your body keeps fluctuating.” Edwin was still rummaging around the house on the second floor and that seems to be what Griffin was checking, before he sits on the couch, leans over Hadrian’s injuries and leans his head on Hadrians opposite shoulder- his body seemingly trying to protect him in a tight hug. “You aren’t going to disappear again right?” The vampire murmurs, tracing figures on his back.

“It was only thirty years.” The vampires ire travels up his neck in the form of two fangs pressed against his skin.

“Thirty years is a long time to spend without someone you tolerate.” Hadrian smiles slightly.

“Is that your confession.”

“The only thing I’ll be confessing in church is my stupidity in tolerating you.”

Hadrian hums in amusement, leaning his head against the vampires- smelling lemon and cypress and everything fresh and clean-

“What do I smell like to you?” Hadrian asks in curiosity. He’s never asked. Not even Tom or anyone else and yet he was curious about it. The vampire hesitates and Hadrian jokes, “Don’t tell me I smell like dragon piss and cow dung.”

The vampire sighs and then sniffs his neck and buried a hand in Hadrians hair, inhaling deeply.

“You’ll think it’s odd but it’s one of the most pleasant things I’ve ever smelled.” Hadrian raises a curious brow.

“Do continue?”

“Sand and driftwood.”

“Obscure,” Hadrian comments wryly.

“Maybe a bit of juniper while we’re at it,” the vampire murmurs. Hadrian gazes at his elder vampire and the vampire asks, “What about me?”

“You smell like everything alive,” he murmurs, closing his eyes, breathing the vampire in. Though the vampire seemed to have stopped breathing altogether. “Lemon, cypress and lily.”

“Really? Not blood?” Griffin asks.

“If you ever smelled of blood I’d tell you to go take a shower.” Griffin chuckles, pulling back and Edwin reappeared with bandages and a bowl of warm water. Which is probably why he’d taken so long.

Hadrian hisses as they press on his injuries and it’s painful as shit. It’s healing, but at an incredibly slow rate.

When he’s rewrapped and shirtless he leans forward and whispers into Edwins ear, “I need to talk to Griffin, privately. You should sleep.” Edwin nods and removes himself from the room and when he hears his door closed- pulled Griffin down into a tight hug- wrapping a hand in silky hair and pulling him close and feeling tears come to his eyes.

He can physically hold Griffin again as Hadrian used to and not just as a boy. He can hold Griffin and not be ashamed- he’s an adult now- again, rather.

Griffin rubbed soothing circled on his back and whispered, “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” When Hadrian relieved himself of a great, shuddering breath, he managed to speak.

“You don’t understand how good it is to see you again. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d come back and he’d killed you- if he’d burned you- I couldn’t bear to find out. It took me so long to reach out Griffin. I was so scared… I was scared to reach out and time had corrected and everything was as it was before- you were dead, everyone was dead and Mancer had won and I was stuck in a life I’d already lived- I didn’t want to come back and find you were all dead-”

“We aren’t dead,” Griffin murmured.

“You could have been,” Hadrian rasped, his fears finally coming to light and he closes his eyes, squinting to try and get rid of the images. “That’s what he told me he’d do. He told me he’d kill you all- so that when I woke up one day- it would be in a world unchanged by anything I’d tried to do.”

“He doesn’t have the power to do that,” Griffin whispers, pulling Hadrian onto his lap- his burnt back against the sofa. Hadrian leaned his head against Griffins chest as the vampire leant his chin on Hadrian’s head. “Everything you’ve done wasn’t for naught. You are here and everything is different.”

“Yeah,” Hadrian muttered, “everything is different. Fleamont is dead, Neville is planning miles ahead and my whole entire family thinks I’m permanently deceased. I’m nothing more than a ghost.”

“Your my ghost,” Griffin reminded him. “A vampire and a ghost. You can haunt me forever if you want.”

“The last thing I want is to haunt you forever,” he mutters.

“My happiest haunt,” Griffin chuckles.

“You will be my undoing you will.” Griffin gently grabbed Hadrian’s chin and made him look up.

“If it means that you can live a life you want to Hadrian, if it means that you and I might possibly have a future and you won’t toss me aside- I’ll gladly be your undoing.” Hadrian gazes at the vampire and thinks of Tom-

Gods what was he doing- the blood pact tightens-

And Hadrian- by sweet, sweet Death why can’t he just love them both?

Griffin reaches for the blood pact- that burns him and Hadrian wants to cry.

“I want to love you both but I cannot be fair,” Hadrian manages to get out, wiping his eyes. Griffin sighs and some part of Hadrian thinks he’s let them both down.

“If love was fair it couldn’t be cruel and yet love is the cruellest thing of all.” Hadrian sniffed.

“Did you learn that from Shakespeare?” The vampire rolls his eyes.

“I’m much better than Shakespeare.” Hadrian rolls his eyes but his words had made their point. Griffin didn’t expect it to be fair- and he expected to be challenged by Tom- and if that meant Griffin only got to spend moments with Hadrian- he was prepared for that too.

“You might be okay with that Griffin,” Hadrian murmurs, twirling a strand of blond hair around his finger, “but if I can’t love you both then I’d rather not love at all.”

“I’m glad to know I mean so much to you.” Hadrian turns, grabs the startled vampires face and in a bout of angry passion- kisses the vampire senseless, holding his jaw and closing his eyes- in trust and in honesty-

The blood pact tries to kill him and Griffin shoves him off before it succeeds and Hadrian feels tears drip down his face as red gashes appear around his throat, caused by silver threads and chains- the pendants sharpest point poised right at his jugular before dropping altogether.

“That,” he rasps, prodding the vampires chest, “is how much I care about you-” his voice breaks and Griffin looks like he’s in pain- Hadrian doesn’t want to see him in pain but now Hadrian can’t breathe and the blood pact had nothing to do with it. “That,” he sounds pathetic now, “is how much you mean to me. Griffin. If you say things like that in sarcasm I will strangle you myself.”

Griffin takes a deep reaffirming breath before pulling him close, stroking his hair.

“You will be my undoing,” the vampire murmurs.

“Then let’s go down together.”

Chapter Text

Orion observed Barty- who had returned and called them in at the last minute. He seemed to be desperately struggling to find words and sweat lathered his forehead.

“If you need a minute Barty,” Arcturus speaks up from the end of the table.

“N-no, Sir I can speak…” Orion winces internally at the state Barty is in, all because of his last minute request to find information on General Morden. It was of course his brother- if the memory and people at the funeral were anything to go by- so whatever Barty had found was clearly worrying. “I- I found General Morden.”

“You found information?” Orion asks slowly, sitting forward. He hadn’t expected Barty to actually find it. he would have thought his brother would have hidden it better-

“No sir,” Barty takes a deep breath, eyes jittering around. “I found General Morden.”

“You can’t have,” Orion says carefully. “General Morden is an alias my brother went under.” Barty’s gaze shot up and the faces of the Triarii turned towards him at the new information.

“Pardon sir? I most definitely found the General.”

“Can I see the memory?” Barty jerked and shook his head frantically.

“No- no no, you cannot-”

“Did he hurt you Barty?” Reinhard asked carefully, leaning forward to gaze at the man. Orion and been thinking along the same lines. What had this pretender done-

Barty choked on his words and then bit out, “No sir- he threatened me. He-” Barty trembled and Abraxas gave up his seat, making the jittery man sit down. He seemed to calm slightly and then slowly made out his words, “I happened to… come across them on accident. A vampire nudged my shoulder and I- well I felt it and noticed some unusual activity in a pub in London.” Barty swallowed thickly. “So, I went in.”

Orion listened intently, observing Barty’s jerking knee underneath the table and his frantically tapping fingers. “There were people wearing masks. Silver ones. Before- before I go on have you- did you- um, come across anyone while searching for Mactator?”

Thaddeus’s brows furrowed and then he admits, “Some of my men have come across people wearing silver masks. Sometimes animal but not always.” Now that Orion thought about it- he has seen quite a few silver masked people who would look at him in Knockturn or the Ministry when he went in before they disappeared.

“What does that have to do with it?” Aiden inquires.

“Well- first… I went into this pub and these people I saw enter with the masks- they had disappeared. So I went- I went to the bartender and I made some stuff up. I pretended- I pretended like I was there to see someone and when the bartender waited for me to give him something- I pretended like it had been nabbed and they gave me- they gave me-” With trembling fingers, Barty pulled out a bronze sovereign, shoving it across to Orion and Orion stared at it.

The familiar engravings- the marks-

Hadrian had always fiddled with a platinum one. Constantly. Wearing it out at the edges- and had occasionally gave it to Orion to toy with but had almost murdered him for losing it.

“Hadrian had one of these,” he murmured, picking it up slowly and running a finger over it.

“Yeah- yeah they all had one I think-” Barty licked his lips. A habit Orion had thought had ended. “But- but there were different levels-”

“You are skipping ahead Barty,” Arcturus says gently. “It’s okay, they can’t do anything here-” Barty glanced at him but his fidgeting did temporarily slow down.

“Sorry. I was given this coin and there was an enchantment on the wall similar to the one at the Hogwarts platform. So I walked through.” Barty’s eyes became vacant and concern nabbed at Orions stomach. “Six-six circles. There were six circles.” Barty clears his throat. “A giant pit with six levels. I entered on the sixth level and there were…” Barty swayed his head in consideration and settled on, “maybe fifty-thousand people.”

“Impossible, there’s not that many wixen in England,” Orion demands immediately.

“You are right,” Barty swallowed and Orions feeling fell even more. “There was- there was vampires. Everywhere,” Barty swore. “Hundreds of them. There were some half-goblins as well I think or half elves, some Veela, some werewolves- but the vampires and wixen made up most of their numbers.”

“A vampire with long blonde hair and red eyes,” Orion says suddenly, startling Barty. “A vampire like that, was he there?”

“Yes- yes there was- I mean, Edwin was there-”

“Edwin is supposed to be with Hadrian,” Remus suddenly interrupts- Orion sends him a warning look and the werewolf semi backed down but had he been in werewolf form- his hackles would be raised and his ears would be flattened.

“Mr Lupin makes a valid point,” Abraxas says lowly. “What was Edwin doing there?”

“I… I presume that the vampire Lord Black is inquiring about was… was his father. The resemblance was uncanny.” Orion leans back in his chair. So Griffin was still alive- and… seemed to know about Hadrians other side. The side that he hadn’t allowed the triarii to see.

By Odin himself if he was to crack his brother into shards just how many sides would he have?

“Do continue,” he mutters. Barty nods, the trembling continuing.

“Well, I- I wanted to see closer to make out the General standing on the first floor- and I- I pulled out the glasses- and he made eye contact with me. Not a few minutes later- a- a witch called Lilibet brought me down to the second floor because- because the General had called for me.”

“So somehow- this… General knows Barty,” Thaddeus thought aloud. “How?”

“Is it entirely possible Nicholas Moriarty had something to do with it,” Reinhard points out. “He has strong connections to the Underground-”

“It wasn’t the Underground,” Barty interrupts with the shake of his head. “I- looking back on it now that was the Underground but it’s not… it’s not the Underworld.” Orion opened and closed his mouth a few times and then the realisation set in.

“When did we stop calling it the Underworld?” Aiden asks slowly, lowering his arm.

“That is a good question,” Orion muttered, brow furrowing.

“Hadrian quite often referred to the Underworld as the Underground,” Arcturus replied helpfully, gazing at Barty curiously. “Though I now wonder if it was a ruse to hide something else under the same name.”

“Nobody would have even noticed,” Abraxas points out. “It’s too subtle and too similar. It’s perfect for hiding another organisation and yet still using the fear and the ideas already spread by a much darker world as a coverup. They get used interchangeably.”

“Tell me more,” Arcturus advises Barty and the man takes a deep breath.

“He- he gave a speech.” Barty licked his lips, goosebumps traveling across his flesh. “About being a way for a long time- how he’s back, how he’d make- Make Mancer pay for every life he’d taken and- and- and every soul he- that he wouldn’t, l-let rest.”

Orion leant back and observed Barty.

The General had to be Hadrian. It had to be! The disappearance coincided with his alleged death- no- no…

Orion had seen the body. Every member of the Triarii had. The pieces- the blood- the ruined surroundings… the magic traces on the body were undoubtedly Hadrians-

“Fatum viam invenient,” Thaddeus mutters.

“Oh please, no one can rise from the dead,” Reinhard snaps, glaring at Thaddeus. “We all saw the body-”

“We didn’t see him die,” Avery pointed out.

“That’s a ridiculous thing to assume,” Abraxas growls. “Hadrian wouldn’t hide away from us.”

Could there… could there be… could there be a memory of his death? Not in the Pensieve but… if Hadrian was so intent on leaving memories- could he have left a memory somewhere?

“Well we wouldn’t have assumed he’d be living a double life either!” Avery retorts. “But here we are!”

“He wouldn’t hide it from us-” Orion agrees.

“No!” Reinhard snarls. “Hadrian is not a liar, he would not hide it from us!”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Avery shouts. “We were of no help to him-”

“We could have helped! He wouldn’t have hidden-”

“He didn’t let us! If he is hiding as Morden then that is because he didn’t want us-”

Thaddeus slaps his hand on the table and shouts,

“ENOUGH!” Dark blue eyes glare at each and every one of them. “Whether or not Hadrian is alive now and trying to defeat the Necromancer and Mactator or not, does not defeat the point that he died.” Thaddeus’s lips curl in rage. “If, and only if, this General Morden is Hadrian, then that man has more reason than any of us to keep us in the dark. This Necromancer killed him, took his life and tortured him before he passed.” Thaddeus bares his teeth in a final display of aggression. “Keep this unsightly behaviour far away from Hadrians honour.”

Orion stared at his hands, fighting to keep his anger from boiling up. He hadn’t realised there’d been so many doubts within the group. Who would have thought division would have been so easy?

Nagini hadn’t moved at all from her seat on the back of a chair, observing everyone. Tom had been oddly quiet these past days. Ever since he’d gone to see Potter. Like he knew something… The snake glanced at him and then away.

He’d have to ask later. Actually, he has a few things to ask Riddle about-

Father cleared his throat and everyone looked at him- but his sharp eyes stared at Orion, unimpressed by his non-reaction, before turning to look at the others. “Mr Nott is correct. As the holder of the family magics at the time,” Orion watched Avery, Reinhard and Abraxas wince, “I know without a doubt that my son passed away.”

Silence ensued for a long moment. Father actually looked like he was hesitating to say something-

“All of you have heard about the Deathly Hallows, correct?” The group nods slowly to the eldest at the table and the man gazes at them all thoroughly. “Have any of you considered that they may be real and that Hadrian may have possessed them all?”

Orion remembers the tale- the one who possessed all three of the hallows was the Master of Death-

Thaddeus sits down and speaks up, “I have considered this for a long time and thought about the clues Hadrian left behind but it has left me at a wall. So, I will explain what I know.” The group nods and Barty stands to let Abraxas sit. “The three hallows are the Cloak of Invisibility, previously possessed by the Potters, the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand.”

Orion reached into his pocket and pulled out the wand- the wand his brother had used on occasion and with great ease. The group stares at it. Tom had asked for the Elder Wand, the Potter boy had referred to it as that- so that must be what it was.

“The Cloak of Invisibility is an Heirloom from Ignotus,” Thaddeus says calmly, “that Fleamont gave Hadrian after their years at Hogwarts as a gift because he could not use it as well as Hadrian could. He took the wand from Grindelwald and I discovered a few days ago, that the Resurrection Stone was hidden in the Gaunt Family ring. All of which, Hadrian possessed.”

“So they exist?” Avery asks hesitantly. “The Hallows.”

Thaddeus motioned to the wand.

“There sits one right in front of you and have we not seen the cloak ourselves?”

“Could he use the Resurrection stone to come back?” Orion asks quietly.

“Tom is in possession of the Resurrection stone,” Thaddeus clarifies. “And it does not resurrect the dead. It’s an illusion to soothe the mind. The dead can temporarily, resurface and will act based on what you remember and know them.”

“So you cannot ask the memory for answers,” Reinhard sighs.

“I’ve tried,” Thaddeus admits. “But it’s strange… his appearance-’

“Wait you summoned him?” Avery interrupts.

“I summoned the apparition,” Thaddeus says in irritation. “If you let me finish…” Avery holds up his hands, setting back in his chair. “The apparition,” Thaddeus says tightly, “looked as if it wanted to say something and couldn’t. No matter the ways I asked the same question, Where are you know? It couldn’t answer. But, from it’s reaction alone, it was trying to say someplace.”

“So it was implying that he is back,” Orion asks carefully.

“Or not,” Thaddeus says quietly. “But I do find it ironic that the Hallows are all with the people tied to him by fate.” Orion blinks at him to clarify. “You possess the Elder Wand as his brother, Riddle possesses the ring and the Potter boy, unknown or not, possesses the cloak. Wherever it may be now.”

“How is Potter tied to Hadrian?”

“He is a dragon shifter,” Thaddeus says and Orion startles forward.

“Pardon?” Thaddeus looks at him calmly.

“Riddle told me, that he is a dragon shifter.” Abraxas laughs, deep and amused.

“And Draco thought he was a cat, oh this is amusing.”

Ekkathion… could it be?

“That is curious,” Arcturus murmurs. “Perhaps we have overlooked the boy too much. He is after all, the one most elusive Wizard I’ve ever met. He seemed to be able to locate us all, I felt that upon entering the manor on the night of our arrival. He even had the brass nerve to feel me out.” Orion glances at his magic sensitive father and his brain was beginning to ache.

“He’ll have some answers if his vampire goes there,” Abraxas agrees with a potent sigh. “I suppose we just have to wait for him to come back.”

“If he comes back,” Orion mutters. “Did he go permanently Remus?”

“He took his things,” Remus says with a sigh. “I don’t expect him to be coming back.”

“What made him leave?” Orion wondered.

“If he’s magic sensitive perhaps the manor was too overwhelming?” Arcturus offers. “Riddles aura would be quite disturbing being a few doors over and of course everyone here has quite a large amount. Or perhaps he could have felt like he was intruding or psychologically unsafe… after all he did just murder two children. Possessed or not.”

Orion scratches his hand and hadn’t really considered it that way. He had gotten used to murder but this was the boys classmates they were talking about. He’d also destroyed the kitchens so all of this was something to consider.

“You did the right thing bringing the boy here Remus, even temporarily,” Orion says with a sigh.

“Thank you Mr Black.”

“He still has to compete, he’ll lose his magic otherwise,” Reinhard points out. “This is getting too dangerous.”

“I can contact Dumbledore,” Arcturus dismisses with a wave of his hand. “I will see what I can do.” Orion nods curtly.

“I need to go and talk to Tom so I will excuse myself first.” He walks toward the hallway and knocks on the door thrice. Nagini slithers towards it and slips in on her own and left the door slightly ajar for him so he passes through to once again see the sickly man on the bed. He closes the door and a red eye watches him from the bed. “You know something.”

Tom huffs. “I know a few things, you would have to be more specific.”

“About Hades,” Orion growls, pulling up a chair. “And you aren’t telling anyone.”

Red eyes turned to the ceiling, observing the gauze canopy of the bed and the marble ceiling above it and the chandelier.

“I haven’t confirmed it yet but I must agree with Thaddeus. Hades was the Master of Death. I have also confirmed that.”

Orion remained quiet. He knew that too but he didn’t really want to reveal that he’d found some of Hadrian’s memories. Although he did feel bad keeping them from Tom, Orion was family. He was possessive of his brothers things and it was only right that he did so.

“But you already knew that.” He glances up at Tom and the man raises a brow. “Didn’t you?”

“I didn’t take into account the Hallows, but I figured he had some power over Death.”

His brother had spoken to the bird plenty in the cave memory and a few others. Though the bird did seem to be pretty vague and only Hadrian seemed to understand what he really meant.

Tom chuckled lowly. “I thought so.”

Red eyes stared at nothing.

“That isn’t what you need to confirm though, is it?” Orion pries, his tone low. Red eyes flick back to him and then defeat seemed to encompass Tom altogether.

“I have few ways of gathering information,” Tom points out. “I can temporarily possess Barty, Nagini and interact with you and the others, or I could talk to Hadrian.”

“Hades-”

“No, Potter.” Orion cocks his head. Everyone else had referred to him as Potter first, and then Hadrian. Not the other way around… “And since I had few ways of gathering information, I confronted him in his dorm room.”

“Is this when you discovered he was a dragon shifter?” Tom stared at the canopy post, eyes trailing down to the covers, his head slightly propped up by the pillows.

“He was tearing out the scales on his arms, deep, thick gouges into his skin.” Orion frowns and Tom seemed like he wanted to shrug and then forgot he couldn’t. His magic did flicker in irritation. “He was having this reaction to something, he’d been panicking, freaking out- and so was his magic.”

Tom’s eyes gazes into the distance.

“I know you are not sensitive to magic like your father and I are, but that boy has too much power in his body to be fourteen.” Red eyes glance at Orion. “And it’s dark, and it’s old, far, far older than you and I. If I was to categorise it, it would be Dead Magic.”

Orion stiffens. “Like a necromancer?” Tom coughs and shakes his head.

“No no. He is alive but the magic has so much death, blood and suffering in it that it might as well be dead. That was what I felt in that room.” Tom stared at Orion. “Then he woke up here- and again he was panicking. So he reached out with his magic-” Tom clenched his jaw. “I knew then. Who he was.”

Orion pauses. “Who he was?” He echoes. But Tom’s gaze is faraway. “Riddle what do you mean who the boy was-”

“He’s no boy,” Tom whispered, eyes focused on something else, his expression flat. “I don’t understand why he’s hiding from me.”

Orion felt like he’d been plunged into that river in that cave. No, worse than that- he feels like his barbed wire has been wrapped around his throat and he’s hanging from it on a bridge-

He grips Riddle’s arm tightly, digging his nails in and the man focuses for a moment-

“Riddle,” he begs, “are you saying Hades is alive?”

Tom closes his eyes and sighs in defeat.

“And has been for the past Gods know how long. As for his death… the answer is in the ring.” He glances at the ring lying on the bed side table and takes it with trembling hands. He glances back at Riddle but his eyes were closed and his breathing was laboured- he’d returned his attentions to maintaining his condition.

Orion stared at the ring and then back at Riddle.

If- if what Tom was saying wasn’t a lie or a miscalculation- Hadrian was choosing to leave Tom in that state.

Orion took the ring and left the room, turning over the thing to observe every corner, every crevice- and in the stone observed the hallows symbol.

He apparates to the Black Manor, to the study- and sets the ring in the Pensieve.

The water clouds with black and murky grey and Orion’s heart is beating at an absurdly fast rate.

For so long he’d wanted to know how.

How much had his brother suffered?

How much had he begged-

How long had it been-

How desperate had he been-

And the answers were in the bowl right in front of him.

He’d ask how Tom found out later, he’d ask how Thaddeus found out later-

He sets his face into the bowl and get’s dragged away.

Chapter Text

Hadrian stares up into the sky, watching Ekkathion circle to alert him of any potentially approaching enemies. Hidden within the moorland of Scotland, he’s ensured the safety of all people within a few miles so that he can unleash all of his magic.

It was time to bring a lifetime nemesis down and maybe, just maybe, by this evening Hadrian can return to his family and sit on the couch with them. Maybe he’ll be able to finally relax with them for the first time in centuries.

But he knows, deep in his gut, the magic power it would require to take down Neville, was that of his life. If his life wasn’t enough- then what was?

He watches the hills and the scattering of trees and contemplates the chances that Neville was already here.

He feels for his wand and observes the area-

He spots a single figure first on the hill next to the battlefield he had chosen. The few vampires behind him lay crouched on the hill, hiding and observing, waiting for his orders.

Then that single figure splits into five, then twenty-five- until the hill is covered in the dead. Some are only skeletons, some are still whole- some are still alive.

Neville stands at the forefront, watching and observing in mocking auror robes.

“Hodie est dies sumus mori,” he mutters aloud. There were too many people for them to survive. He knew that then and he reached for the blood pact that wasn’t there. The one he had given the Count to look after- and settles on the ring instead, rubbing the worn band.

The sound of footsteps is a quiet drum as the army approaches and Hadrian waits.

Neville hadn’t moved off of the hill, likely waiting for Hadrian to exhaust himself with the armies down below.

A sonorous reaches him and Neville darkly proclaims, “There’s no where for you to run now.” Hadrian doesn’t waste his energy on replying, instead focusing on the charging armies.

He takes a deep breath and Ekkathion says, {We will be okay. We will defeat this army.}

Hadrian would like to believe him, if not for everything telling him he won’t win this.

A purple miasma spreads from the skeletons, drifting like smoke above them that created a purple haze that one couldn’t see through-

And then they stepped on the traps.

The ground rocked and Hadrian had to steady himself against a tree as the shockwave reached them. Bombs, muggle bombs that he had stolen from the war front. They shook the valley and the bones were snapped as easily as a twigs, rendering them useless. It didn’t matter to Neville though, that army just flowed over the hills and Hadrian braces himself against each explosion- the sound of snapping bones and the thudding of already dead bodies.

Hadrian has to wonder how many graves he’s pillaged, how many dead aren’t able to rest in peace because of this man- how many families looked at the empty, upturned graves of their loved ones-

And the thought makes his magic writhe, it makes him angry.

Those people were supposed to rest, supposed to have sanctuary in the end of their lives and their bodies had been disgraced, their original morals discarded and their humanity destroyed.

Perhaps it is because he is the Master of Death that he’s so angry seeing the dead walk again, or perhaps it’s because he sees the faces of people like Molly, people like Hermione and Draco and everyone Hadrian has ever loved- step again, and again, their bodies weathering the dark magic that keeps them from eternal rest and Hadrian sees his friends children- just kids that he had failed to protect. Nevan, Scorpius, Teddy and Zayn.

So he takes a deep breath as they finally step out after the bombs- all the ones he’d hidden had been set off and so it was time for the pits-

The moss covering the thin beams could sustain some weight- but not more than fifteen, and so the traps went down, dropping them into enchanted pits that incinerated them. To not lose them, Neville would have to consciously steer his armies and that was a lot harder to do than simply setting them on a path.

Everything, was to tire Neville out as much as possible and drastically reduce his forces.

The bombs had taken out some of the Mactator wizards and witches but they needn’t be controlled. For now they were still alive but they could be resurrected at any moment by Neville and that was something Hadrian would have to watch out for. He can’t be encircled.

Which is why…

He placed a hand on the tree to his left and the ground shuddered for a completely new reason as the tree lifted itself out of the ground, roots groaning as they moved to work like legs- and the tree changed- morphed- into an ancient tree ents that roared, letting loose a challenge.

The helpful thing about tree ents, is that one cry rallies the rest and so the tree in the region- especially on Neville’s rear where the forest thicket was, began to move, rumbling and groaning.

He watches the skeletal army pause for a moment and some fall into the pits as they’re left unattended.

But Mactator wizards and witches are yelling at the mad scramble to get up the bank. Until the tree ents were exhausted- Hadrian couldn’t use fire based magic, which was infuriating but doable.

Expulso was his main go to, as well as numerous other spells he’d invented. One tore apart their bodies, through bone and all an expulso was enough to destroy their bodies all together. Diffindo, a meager cutting spell that he’d enhanced with latin originate speech- gave them such severe lacerations they died on the spot, rended open.

The tree ents smash them, sending them into the pits to their demise and unfortunately- Neville was defending his rear and setting the ents on fire- which made them slightly more dangerous but less able to walk properly.

His heart is beating fast now and there’s a slight tremble in his hands as he watched chaos unfold.

He supposes he could be called strong- for standing against Neville alone but-

He won’t make it out.

Ekkathion circles high above, waiting for the signal to use fire but mostly just to survey how the situation was going and when it was best for Hadrian to act.

He was his eyes in the skies.

Every spell that left his hands was dark enough that it seemed to come from someone elses- like Hadrian was moving a body that wasn’t his.

He’d seen a lot of violence throughout this era against Neville and between fighting on the fronts and the likes of it all. But there was something so much worse with this now. It was a massacre and flesh flew- people died- real, living people who were fouller than life itself- but there were innocent bones being broken by the ents- ents who weer being overrun by skeletons and the weight sent them sinking into the traps that turned them into ashes- Shells of people who would never find their way back to where they’d come from- some who would be undifferentiated from the others- just bones and sharps and cracked open skulls and limbs filled with purple marrow-

There was a piercing shriek of rage from the last ent as it’s branches burned and it stumbled upon the ground-

{Now Ekkathion.}

Fire, hotter than molten magma spewed from the dragons mouth and left blisters upon the earth as grass melted and shrugs burned- smoke rising in an instance and the wave of blistering heat had Hadrian casting a very quick, passive, cooling charm. The more intense the heat got, the colder the cooling charm became.

The great dragon took off again, looping around and Hadrian apparated from the scene to the dying forest behind Neville- and touched them all, easing their pain and taking their lives.

But before Neville could notice his appearence, he slips back to his original position, now exposed by the lack of trees.

He’d need to take Neville to the second location soon-

A blast of deranged magic takes him off of his feet, clawing at his face and body and Hadrian starts at the pain before quickly getting up and casting Episkey, staring at the army that broke up over the top-

“Bombarda Maxima!” The tip of his wand produced an explosive, toxic green fireball that he threw at the clambering figures- and the Mactator members screamed and then were silenced. Those caught on the fringes of the spell rolled on the ground frantically to put out the flames on their clothes.

“Ignis tempestas!” He shouts and a ring of fire erupted around him, swirling like a typhoon and sweeping up the remainders on the hill top and he apparated from that position by a few meters and watched the members lunge through the smoke to try and get to him while he caught them from behind with imperio and turned them against one another, using their magic to fuel the fire spells.

He then turned his focus to the hill below as his temporary bodyguards fended him off with vigorous skill and lifted an arm, knowing this would take out most of his army- except before the spell leaves his lips- skeletons begin breaking apart before his eyes and molding together- forming beasts that gnashed bones together and lunged forward at incredible speed-

“Terra oritur et flectitur, descendunt!” He shouts rapidly and the hill face curved out to form an unscaleable cliff while the rest rose like a tsunami- rocks and dirt and so much weight that crashed upon the ground, rumbling like an earthquake and swallowing screams and skeletons.

Except the endless tides never swayed- it was a war of attrition that Neville was attempting, to wear him out-

Though he wasn’t tired yet he wondered how long he could hold out for- how long Neville could hold out for- and what the chances were that any part of him would be recognisable by the end of this-

Foolish for him to think those thoughts on a battlefield and get distracted.

Ekkathion swooped by and this time- aimed for Neville, encircling him in flames- and when the flames disappeared-

Neville was gone.

His magic drenched the area so thoroughly that he couldn’t make heads over tails where he had gone and he whirled around to behind him- but there was no one there-

Pain exploded through his back- pure- pure agony and he fled to the shadows in an instance- carrying himself through Ekkathions shadow, traveling swiftly across the moors with everyone shouting and clambering- and he lifted his gaze to see Neville at the top- something thick and red in his hand-

No- no no no no-

He shoves himself out of the shadow, stumbling through the grass and red explodes onto thirsty grass and he can’t reach his back- he puts a finger to his neck, feeling his pulse and silence greets him-

{-ADRIAN! HADRIAN!} Ekkathion roars, bellowing high above. {Next location now!}

Can he apparate without a heart? Will it- will it tear him apart? Can he? Non-living things can’t-

He feels a chill encase him and apparates. If it destroyed him- he would never forgive himself-

But his feet hit solid ground and the only agony remains in the cavity in his chest. He’s in a forest now, a relatively new forest with new magic-

He breathes heavily and when they get into range, Ekkathion connects. {He’s located you and following prepare-}

But Mactator had apparated too and Hadrian shouted in anger as he had to fend off each and every one of them. He had to thank Thaddeus for giving him such stiff control over his imperio so that he could turn these fanatics against each other and catch a breather.

How insane it was that he could be immortal and yet his stamina could be so crap- it probably wasn’t helpful to not have a heart-

Something was thrown at him and Hadrian whipped backwards in case it was an explosive- but the heart drops at his feet, lined with black veins and dead- covered in fresh blood that sunk out of the ventricles and Neville walked forward.

“About time you and I finally fought again,” Neville says with a sardonic grin, walking forward and his purple heart is beating manically in his boned chest and Hadrian- Hadrian is scared. “Aren’t you being too heartless? I know I just took yours but…”

“Emorier!” Neville’s heart faltered for a minute and so did his face- wincing in pain as the purple faltered- as his skeletons collapsed for a minute- and then the duration of the spell ended and Neville looked thunderous.

But it was something- and he had made many variants of that spell.

“Demorier! Intereo!” The two spells seemed to blacken his bones but the magic drain of taking away Neville’s self gained immortality- it felt like his heart had been sucked out of him again and he stumbled back- shouting, “Bombarda!” Neville’s body flew backwards at an incredible rate, slamming into a tree and splitting it in half- perhaps a few bones broke but still the undead rose- Neville’s eyes glowing, his mouth muscles stretched over his bones in an ominous smile.

“Better, certainly better than last time. But not enough.”

“Mori,” he breathes and a darkness pulses from the end of the elder wand- spinning like a torrent and it consumed Neville- even for a moment. Hadrian saw him die- watched him die- and watched his body fade into ashes-

But it wasn’t to be-

Bony fingers grabbed his shoulders and something smashed into his head- he staggered and spun- darkness surrounding his vision.

“I’m going to enjoy this-”

Hadrian spins and latches his fingers onto a skull- and pours every ounce of hatred and wrath and rage into them- and his fingers became green- Neville’s purple eyes appearing as green cracks lit up his face- as he screamed and it was the most beautiful sound Hadrian had heard.

Neville was screaming- reaching for Hadrian’s wrists and tearing at them-

He watches half of his skull crumple, revealing a pumping purple brain-

Ekkathion’s fire attempts to burn the necromancer and Hadrian’s magic strains to keep him and his clothes from burning under the cooling calm.

He lets go of Neville- and a droplet lands on his skin as the overcast clouds finally break apart- raining down at the wrong time- the flames on Neville’s ashen robes getting put out and blackened bones regenerated for a moment and Neville wasn’t there- Hadrian didn’t wait.

“Just fucking die!” He shouts, casting Emorier again and Neville seemed to waver- before he gasped, dropping his wand and gripping his chest-

Neville was holding his heart and was squeezing it- he dropped to his knees in agony-

“What-” he tried to ask what the spell was- but his lungs felt like they were breaking apart, constricting- he couldn’t breathe-

A shadow descended upon them, gnashing teeth and claws and fire- and Ekkathion landed on Neville, slamming his talons through his body and Hadrian crashed forward into the ground as he was released and he screamed at the agony-

When he looked up Ekkathion was being clambered on by skeletons-

{FLY EKKATHION!} The dragon took off now that he had temporarily bought Hadrian some time and Hadrian scrambled to his feet, leaping forward and a root leapt from the ground to yank at his ankle- slamming him back down onto the ground.

The rain was soaking now and so the ground was turning into mud- yet the smell of fire still remained-

He got up, leaping at Neville and he was mindless as he tore into the body- ripping out a lung and he cuts off an arm- he smashed his fist into the already broken skull, cutting his knuckles- before an eye leapt open and focused on him- and a finger touched his chest, pulling out magic and now- now Hadrian screamed, because that hurt- and it hurt like molten lava flowing through his blood- or like barbed wire being threaded through his veins-

He couldn’t breathe- and the rain was blinding him- his magic erupted-, pulling away from him but in his command- and he canceled all magic- letting everything stop, the flames disappearing and the silence was deafening as Hadrian blinked, looking at skeletons. He forced himself up, summoning everything he had- everything-

Then he exploded and raw undulated magic pulsed into Neville and the surroundings- Hadrian was blown off of Neville from his own magic and was blinded by dust and deafened by the sound of trees smashing and something happened to the ground-

He laid there, in dust and dirt and the remains of torn roots, rabbit warrens and buried skeletal remains with some very real bodies underneath the ground.

Thunder sounded in the distance and his body was soaked in rain- so cold- he was so cold- But he couldn’t stop- or he’ll die.

He stares up at the clouds, the agony racing through him. Death was trying to get him to focus-

“Well, I suppose you lived up to your reputation,” a voice eerily said and he glimpses a staggering figure coming closer and closer, emerging from the dust. Missing limbs and lungs and half dead- “I see how you traveled through time too now as well.” Hadrian spits out blood.

“I’ll kill you-”

Purple eyes get right in his face, leering at him. “Can you? Can you kill me? I could kill you right now… I am killing you right now-”

Hadrian glances down at his missing heart and just bares his teeth at the wizard. “You can’t get rid of me.” The man grins, teeth alarmingly white- gums alarmingly also white. Like bone.

“I was going to say the same thing. But even if I can’t- I’ll just kill everyone you love, over- and over and over again. How about it? I could kill your lover over and over and over again- make him plead and beg and suffer right in front of you-” Hadrian managed to strike him- head against head and the man reeled back for a minute-

Hadrian clawed himself away from the crazy bastard-

“Oh don’t play like that Harry .” Hadrian gasps in agony as something slides between his ribs, impaling him into the ground. “We still have so much fun left you and I.”

“FUCK OFF!” He roars, using what sparse magic remains to yank the blade out and grab it himself, crawling to his knees, to spin around and use the sword like a cane, struggling to his feet as he bleeds out upon the earth. A quick healing spell does the trick. He hears Ekkathion fly nearby- roaring- The wizard looks up and the wand points upwards- “NO- EKKATHION!” The dragon appears and Hadrian lunges at the the wizard. “NEVILLE-” He screams as Ekkathion’s chest is cleaved open- the dragon jerking violently at the impact midair- “NEVILLE I AM GOING TO KILL YOU-”

A spell flies at him and Hadrian shudders to the floor- a boot to his face moments later and a blade is taken to his legs again.

Neville cackles. “This is what you get for trying to escape your fate,” Neville croons. Thunder and lightening crashes and a silver blade comes arcing down- down-

And Hadrian goes blind as agony roars through his head like a blistering skull- and his eyes- his eyes-

He roars at Neville, cursing him and everything he was- grabbing his wrist and snapping it with all the force he could mutter and then Neville disappeared and he staggered to his legs- reaching for where his eyes had been and feeling blood coat his dusty fingers.

Something tore through his bad leg and Hadrian fell to the floor and Neville laughed.

Hadrian just screamed for Fiendfyre- for Ekkathions dead kin to protect him.

He felt the flames, he felt them roar- he felt his magic pull and told him the spell had succeeded- and he barely managed to feel Neville within the flames- holding up under a shield spell of some kind that was no a protego.

He can’t breathe- he chokes on dust in the air and spits it out- it’s up his nose and he wants to sneeze but his head blisters enough already-

He’d expected to lose- he’d expected to die- but he hadn’t expected it to be like this. He’d run through countless situations, he’d run through countless spells and tried to further his knowledge and yet- how was he this overwhelming? Why wouldn’t he just fucking die-

“Amazing,” Neville shouts. “I expect nothing less from the Chosen One!” Neville roars. “This is what you deserve Harry! This is everything you deserve for everything you did to me!” Neville screamed. “To Luna- to me! To the school- to my parents- to my family- for everything you made everyone suffer!” Neville screamed.

“AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” Hadrian roared, clutching his missing leg. “HOW MANY MORE PEOPLE HAVE TO DIE BEFORE YOU FINALLY GET WHAT YOU WANT!”

Neville roared with laughter as the spell tries to eat him, but there is a strain that Hadrian catches over the heavy pants of his breath. He’s just as worn out as Hadrian is. From protecting himself-

“Until you die-” he whipped around, his fist making contact with a face from an apparated necromancer and a hand grabs his mouth-

Hadrian doesn’t even have it in him to scream as his cheek is torn through and air gushes through his cheek-

“Bastard,” Neville snaps, a boot colliding with his ribs and it hurts- it all hurts so much-

Orion- I’m sorry- I hope you don’t ever find me- Tom-

A hand grabs his hair, dragging him up. Neville tsked.

“If it’s not me that kills you, Harry, then you’ll endlessly reincarnate and get more and more powerful. If I’m not your enemy, no one will be. Even if I have to wait centuries, I’m your opponent. I’m your only opponent who prevents you from becoming omnipotent. Such a shame. I would have also liked to tear through your brother and father- I didn’t mind Voldemort, I hate Riddle.” Hadrian digs his nails into bone but Neville doesn’t even react- purple magic lashes at his hands through and agony floods his hands as his bones splinter and he pants, his throat hurting from screaming so much.

He can’t-

Brackium Emendo-

Neville broke his healed bones again- finger by finger- and when he healed them again, Hadrian screamed as his thumb was torn off.

Gods- Ekkathion- Ekkathion-

His father-

He can’t cry- it send agony through his eyes- it all hurts-

“Crucio.”

Accompanied with the pain of all the wounds Neville had inflicted- Hadrian felt like his body had died already. He jerked on the floor, dry heaving to get anything into his lungs-

He was scared, he couldn’t see anything-

He had to kill Neville-

Gods he was so desperate- if he failed here- Neville would continue on to Orion- then Riddle- then Thaddeus- Abraxas- he’d annihilate the Underground-

Something crackled through his blood.

Something ancient- something old-

Hadrian lost another arm in a minute and Neville was laughing as Hadrian just lay there, stunned-

{Just once,} Death said. {You can have my own power for a moment but it will kill you. It will destroy his body and he will need to time to recuperate- in a different body- but it gives you time. It gives them time-}

It’s black- and dark and viscous like ice whirring in a snowstorm, sharp shards and nothing about it was kind. This was that torturous death- this wasn’t the kind one, this was one of all pain, nightmares-

Hadrian smiles- feels a boot smash into his head and then a blade severed his torso from his limbs- then his hands- it didn’t matter though- it was too late.

It was a tsunami- an unstoppable tide that couldn’t be guided, controlled or escaped-

It came from Hadrian’s heart that Neville had been dropped- and an ancient hatred from Death for those that escaped his clutches consumed Neville but Hadrian only felt Neville’s heart disappear and his body crumple into ashes-

Before his body stilled, the warmth disappeared and everything was silent-

It was over.

Chapter Text

Orion leant against Riddle’s bedframe, staring at the ring in his hand and had been doing so for nigh on an hour.

“What did you see?” Riddle asked.

“Didn’t you look?” Orion muttered.

“I don’t have a pensieve. I know you have one, somewhere. You’ve been looking through memories, I can feel it.” He stares at the floor, his eyes red and his hands still trembled slightly.

“No. I can’t give you the memories while you’re in that condition.”

“I can still look at memories Black.”

“It’ll break you.”

Riddle didn’t reply.

“So you knew the memories were in the ring?”

“Like I can feel your pensieve, I could feel those memories. One of it’s functions seems to be remembering the death of it’s wearer. There’s older signatures besides Hadrian.” Riddle was quiet for a long while and Orion couldn’t muster up enough of a voice or a concentration to figure out one question to ask Riddle. “Did he suffer?” Orions magic stirred like leaves on the wind before settling and he bites his lip to keep from crying again. His chest heaved in an effort to control it before looking at the doorway-

“He was awake for everything that happened to him.” Riddle’s magic flinched and then whipped around in madness before sinking. Orion dropped his hands into his lap. “It was worse though. Mancer waited for Hadrian to heal some of his injuries before doing it again and Hadrian fought him without a heart.”

“But the heart is a core source of ones magic.”

“Yeah, I think that’s why he lost. But he won, kind of.”

He says nothing, spinning the ring in hand and staring at it. He remembers prying it off one of the discarded fingers.

Fleamont had also gone through this. They’d lost two people in this fashion and it made Orion sick to his very core. The thought that that could be him- could have been him if not for his brother-

“I don’t know what to do.”

Riddle’s breathing had lapsed as the man focused and Orion knew he couldn’t hear for now. He rubs his eyes and stands, glancing at his incapacitated leader before leaving and walking towards the dining hall- where he sees his worried father pacing. Everyone else is seated- and turns their heads to look at him.

He must look dreadful- and he’s sure he does-

“Orion,” Arcturus said suddenly, glancing at him and Orion stared at his father, wishing for a moment- that he was saying Hadrian and that he’d look over his shoulder and Hadrian would be there, walking out of the hallway looking happy, amused and perhaps a little bit relieved.

He glances over his shoulder just in case but the hallway was empty- and he gripped the ring strongly.

“You’ve been gone for three days,” Thaddeus says quietly.

Orions brow furrowed, his tongue swollen and he was thirsty from all of the crying- Salazar had recoiled when Orion began screaming what had happened- when he exploded a few boxes- when he almost smashed the pensieve-

But it was all he had of his brother so he couldn’t do it.

He’d had every urge to shred through the map and the information- to just destroy something-

So he’d decided to just go somewhere. He doesn’t even remember where he went- just that time had passed and he’d come back.

He vaguely remembers black obsidian before passing out so he must have cried himself asleep on Hadrian’s grave. Someone had woken him up, likely a stranger but he doesn’t remember-

A hand shakes him out of his head and he stares at his father.

He feels like a boy again and he doesn’t think he’s ever really matured. He may be the Lord of the Magnanimous House of Black, but he struggles, every day. He’s supposed to have a brother and two friends and he doesn’t. Fleamonts dead and Tom is on that verge. It makes him want to murder the Potter boy because he wants his leader back.

“Orion,” Arcturus once again pulls him out and he shudders a breath out. “Are you okay?”

He clenches the ring, feeling the prongs keeping the stone in place dig into his palm.

No.

He stares at it and thinks of the way he died- and how his portrait just stares prettily out at the hall, saying nothing. It’s fake and awful and a liar-

He whips around on his feet, making way to it- fighting out of his fathers grip-

“Orion!” He ignores him and stands in front of the portrait, rage flooding his very bones. This portrait hadn’t suffered- this portrait wasn’t Hadrian- Hadrian was dead-

“ORION!” Arcturus bellows, backhanding him as the canvas suddenly tears and he staggers back as his father desperately pulls out a wand-

“Incendio!”

“ORION!” Thaddeus shouts.

“THAT ISN’T HADRIAN!” Orion roars, pointing at it and through the flames and the slices, it stares at him, unmoving. “Put on display like it’s going to tell us something-” he bares his teeth and Arcturus grabs him, yanking him away and down the hallway and he shouts at them all as they try to save the painting. “IT ISN’T WHAT HE WOULD HAVE WANTED!” He shouts.

“YOU DON’T GET TO MAKE THAT DECISION!” Abraxas screams at him. Arcturus shoves him into a room and locks it- leaving him alone and he hurls the ring at the wall-

“HADRIAN!” He shouts with his entire heart. None of this was fair- everything he’d done to die just like that- for years of helplessness and silently waged wars to be tortured to death like that. He regrets seeing it- he regrets knowing-

A soft blue light spreads over the floor and he slowly turns around, observing the glowing blue stone in the ring that had landed flat on the floor. Blue mist slowly forms, turns and twists, forming a person for a moment-

A person who sighs and looks at him-

A person he’d watched get torn to shreds and die-

Orion presses up against the wall, dread in his stomach.

“You can’t do this,” he rasps, pointing at the apparition, “you aren’t real. My brother’s dead-”

“Well, that is true,” Hadrian murmured, looking at the floor and he wants to break down at the sound of his voice. “For now, not for much longer.” The figure stares at him softly, so fucking softly and so fucking full of that love that Orion needed from his brother- that he sinks to the floor and the figure steps forward, the dead image flickering.

“What do you mean?” Orion begs.

“I miss you, every day,” he whispers, green eyes scanning his. “I never wanted anyone to see my death Orion.”

“Is this- are you real?”

“I’m as real as your going to get. I’m the memories that I left behind.” It dawns on him.

“The patronus-”

“Part of it,” the figure says with a nod.

“But I don’t-” Hadrian sits on the floor with him, leaning against an abandoned table leg. “I don’t understand. What’s the point of leaving a patronus behind-”

“A patroni can only die if their casters die or recalls it.”

“You aren’t dead?”

“You already know this.”

“Then where are you?” Hadrian smiles softly, regret in his eyes.

“I don’t know. The me now is strange, without the memories I have right now… he’s different to what he should be. It’s all false bravado. He only remembered what he had to-”

“So he’s out there somewhere?”

“Until he comes home he’s never going to find me.”

“Well Abraxas doesn’t allow strangers onto his property-’

“The Black Manor Orion.” Hadrian’s eyes burn. “He needs to go home. But he won’t, for some strange reason he won’t.”

“Well if I was you, I’d never want to go through that again,” Orion jokes weakly. “Who had the death- who has um…” Hadrian sighed.

“He has the first half, I have the second half.”

“The hard part.”

“Yes.”

“But he’d already cast the patronus before he died?”

“I think Death might have scurried some of it over or maybe I did it unknowingly,” Hadrian said with a shrug.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, sitting forward. Hadrian shakes his head.

“Being sorry doesn’t help Orion. It only hurts you and it was my choice to leave you out.”

“But I couldn’t-”

“If I ever had to fight you, Orion,” Hadrian’s eyes gleamed coldly. “I would rather die. If he put me against you- under an imperio or he killed you first, I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“What about the others-”

“I might struggle,” Hadrian admits. He doesn’t elaborate so Orion leans back in defeat, staring at him.

“So your alive.”

“And dead.”

“Can I help?” Hadrian cocks his head slowly. “Find him? Bring him home? I’m his brother… if you’re out there somewhere-”

Hadrian closes his eyes, his hair swaying slightly as he tilts his head.

“You want to help him? He wouldn’t like that you know.”

“So then I hide it and just ease him there. To you.” Hadrian opens one eye, observing but doesn’t respond. So Orion asked instead, “Do you regret that I found your study? That I went through your things?”

“I don’t know,” Hadrian admits. “I’m not capable of feeling new emotions. I’m not the original, I’m his-my, cut offs. But I can imagine I’m supposed to feel scared. Of your reaction, of what you’ll do- if Neville will use you- that sort of thing.”

Orion picks his nails, staring at nothing.

“General Morden- Is there anything you can tell me about him?”

Hadrian only smiled.

“As much as I enjoy this talk Orion, some stuff I would have wanted you to figure out on your own.”

“A friend?”

The figure shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Why did you come now?” The question seems to throw the apparition off.

“You called.”

“I’ve called for years. The others have- Thaddeus did.”

“You never called with the ring and only you have access to the patronus’s appearance and location..”

“What about Riddle-”

“Do you want to know something Orion,” Hadrian interupts, looking at him with something like nostalgia, “I’ve always thought the idea of having someone who loved me had to be from someone like Riddle- but I had you and father- I had you. Against Lucretia and everyone in Hogwarts- you were everything to me. Yes, Merlin I love Riddle, but as strange as it seems, if I had to choose…” he cuts off but Orion just stares. The figure finally looks back. “I’ve always wanted a brother. And then I got you.”

“I want you back,” Orion rasps. “Come back.”

“Christmas,” the figure says quietly, body fading.

“No don’t go-” Orion begs, scrambling forward to the figure but his hand only went through the apparition- be he felt the magic- knew he wasn’t dreaming.

“Christmas, Orion. I’ll come home on Christmas.”

The figure faded away and Orion was left in darkness and he hesitantly picked up the ring. Whispering, “Hadrian…”

There was a quiet knock on the door.

“Father?” Orion glances over, to where Regulus stands behind it. “Are you okay? Everyone’s worried… I’m worried.”

Orion rubs a hand over his face, scratching his beard and wonders how pathetic he must have appeared-

The door hesitantly opened and Orion looked at Regulus, the boy stood there quietly- Orion held out a hand and Regulus walked over. Nobody else was there yet. Regulus kneeled and Orion hugged his son tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs ruefully. “I’m not being a very good father am I?”

“Somethings happened,” Regulus says plainly. Merlin, Regulus was a man now, Orion had to get himself together. He looked at the boy who knelt now, looking over his father and Orion had to pull himself together.

“Yeah.” He looks at the ring. “I’m sorry you never got to meet my brother. He would have loved you.” Regulus stared at him and Orion knows Regulus holds his own opinions. Sure he may like Hadrian- but Orion doesn’t think he liked Hadrian being idolised either- chasing after him like this-

But if not for the pensieve and the hints he’d left behind he wouldn’t have believed so thoroughly he’d find a way back.

“I’m glad you got rid of the portrait,” Regulus says, leaning against the wall. “I always hated that thing.” Orion snorts.

“Same. It drove me around the bend any time I stared at it.” Orion picks at the calluses on his hands. “I may be an old bastard Regulus, but was I a good father?”

“A very good one,” Regulus says with a nod. “You got us away from mother, you got us a stable life and me and Siri… we settled our scores. I don’t like to think what would have happened if we hadn’t.”

“Did I ever tell you Hadrian was the one who told me Walburga would split you and I up?”

“You said that I would betray the family.” Orion stared at his son with a smile.

“I don’t think you will.”

“I know I won’t.” He shakes his head in amusement.

“Whatever did I do to end up with a son like you ey Reg?” He pats his sons shoulder. “Help me up.” Regulus stands and offers a hand, pulling him up.

“Remus is going nuts. Hadrian hasn’t come back and he’s worried about his wounds, as well as Barty’s report of Edwin being at that Underground thing.”

“I can imagine,” he says in amusement, the two of them leave the room. Orion pockets the ring and stared down the hallway where he can feel some very angry but worried magical traces. “Grandfather thinks you might have gone mad.”

“I think I might have too,” Orion wonders. “Strangely enough I don’t mind.”

“You seem in tact to me.”

“Cheeky bugger.” Regulus knocks his shoulder and the two of them walk to the atrium.

“I have to go and collect Hayes and the other kids from the train station, would you like to come?”

“Always.”

It’s a short travel to the station in London, walking past crowds of worried parents and crying first years who get off, scared and he wonders briefly, if something else has happened.

“Apparently the collapse of the Kitchens caused a collapse in the Hufflepuff rooms,” Regulus informs him and Orion eyes the children who run away from the train and towards their parents. “The death of the Basilisk and Mr Longbottom-”

Orion winces and Regulus glances at him. “So you’ve found out something. About Mancer.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs with a sigh, looking up through the glass roof as they wait for the Slytherins to depart the carriages at the rear. He’s aware he won’t look his best right now- but he’s kind of given up.

He runs a hand through his hair, hoping that the Daily Prophet-

A flash sounds from behind him and Regulus and Orion turn around to see her standing there, smirking before putting on a false worried face.

“Lord Black are you worried about the safety of your grandchild? You seem quite disheveled-” He straightens and glares at her as she draws attention to him by other people.

“If you think being a Lord is easy, let alone being the Lord of House Black, then you can depart and not talk to me. A word from me and your business falls Ms Skeeter.” She gives an awkward curtsy and flicks her assistant with that stupid quill, strutting away- Orion wordlessly breaks the camera anyway.

“Dad!” Hayes calls out, colliding with Regulus. A quite troupe follows behind him, consisting of Theodore, Blaise and Draco. The boys look quite stupefied and look around the station, like a mysterious Potter would pop up. “Grandfather do you know what happened? I don’t understand- everyone is calling Po-”

“When we leave, Hayes,” Orion says gently. He puts his hands on Theodore and Draco’s shoulders and Blaise decides to stay with them, falling underneath Regulus’s influence.

They all apparate back to the house.

“Go up to your room Hayes and settle your friends in to their own rooms, I can imagine they’ll be staying until Christmas,” Regulus orders and the four of them glance at each other before darting off.

Orion observes them running up the stairs and the two of them remain out for a while.

“What did you find out?” Regulus asks, cautiously.

Orion stares up at the facade of the house, the pillars and the windows-

“I found out how my brother died. It tends to weigh on the mind a bit.” He glances at Regulus. “I suppose you can imagine.”

His son nods sagely. “If Sirius died and I never knew how, I think I’d never stop thinking about it. Or regretting it.”

Orion glances over the land. “His last thoughts… were of all of us. When he wasn’t thinking about killing Mancer. I’m struggling with… everything he went through, just to buy us some time and keep us safe and I just… that portrait- he wanted to be remembered as a warrior, not a pretty thing to be kept on a wall for everyone to look at when their feelings were hurt. I just wanted it gone. Like the portrait of Walburga, I wanted it burned and dead and gone and I did just that.”

“Lord Riddle will be pissed,” Regulus comments, looking up.

“Hadrian would have hated how formal we all are now. Outside of the house, away from mother- you’d have never known. With us and the triarii he was just your average friend. If nobody knew how cold he could be and how cunning he was, one would have thought he was a Gryffindor.” Regulus scrunches his brow.

“Somehow I can’t picture it.”

“No. He’d have hated that too.” Orion stared up and up and up, into the sky. “He’d have hated a lot of what we’ve become. Did you know he liked having power but he liked sharing it? He didn’t really act like the leader Tom and I pretend we are.”

“Like a democracy.”

“Not even that, he knew what each of us wanted and he worked off of it. Alternatively, he did lots of things just to prank us and irritate us as well.” Orion sighed wistfully. “I loved my brother Regulus, I really did.”

“You two sound like Sirius and I.”

“Yeah,” Orion glances to the hedges. “I’m glad you have a brother Regulus. I’m glad Sirius has you. Even if he’s a Gryffindor and even if he’s really different from you. I can’t imagine how my life would have turned out if not for him.” Regulus just listened and didn’t judge- and for that Orion was incredibly thankful.

“Do you think Hayes needs a brother?” Regulus asks.

“No. No I don’t. Everyone is their own person Regulus, I think Hayes is suited to being an only child. Just like Draco and just like Theodore and Blaise. I can’t even begin to imagine how different Abraxas would be if he’d had a brother and trust me it would have been for the worse. Then again most Malfoy are an only child.”

“Spoilt bastards.” The two of them laugh before descending into comfortable silence.

“Would you have liked to meet Hadrian Reg?”

“What’s with the stupid questions? Of course I would have liked to have met my super awesome gay uncle who rode dragons and bet Riddle in everything and was the most powerful Wizard of his generation.”

Orion snorts.

“Yeah, when you put it like that, who wouldn’t want to meet him? Well, I can’t say we aren’t a boring family.” Regulus laughs, elbowing him.

“I’m going to need to go and explain to Hayes and his friends everything just so they can tread carefully. See you later father.”

“Yeah, see you at dinner.”

He watches Regulus go and he was left outside-

Not for long though.

He glances over his shoulder at a boy who looked more exhausted than life itself.

“I didn’t think you were going to come back.”

“Neither did I,” the boy muttered, limping slightly as he came forward. His injuries hadn’t gotten much better then. He was quite tall and twisted to look at Orion. He did unbelievably like Hadrian. “Was that Regulus?”

“Yeah.”

Hadrian nodded slowly, surveying the house. Orion naturally has a tender spots for kids, having had kids of his own but… he doesn’t even know where to start with this one.

He’s too hostile. Like a thorn hidden below a flower leaf.

Orion looks at the house and wonders, for a long moment.

“Fleamont was a very very close friend of mine and my brother,” Orion says at last and Potter looks at him and he looks down. “You have family here if you want it. It’s what Fleamont would have wanted, I think.”

Those dark green eyes were muted now, quiet, eerily empty.

But now that Tom had mentioned it- Potters magic was old. In fact- it was ancient. It was dark and it was brooding, but thoughtful and light. How strange. Like a dark wind that flittered through the trees- touching everything but not touching anything.

Not too dissimilar from his own magic- it really was curious.

Potter was an interesting kid. But he wasn’t really a kid. Everyone knows it. He’s just too weary for it. Too knowledgeable- too good at being evasive to really be fourteen.

Whether it’s a vampire that’s taken over his soul or a spell or even just the aftermath of confronting Mactator and everything that’s happened to him recently, it was too much to consider him a kid.

“This is the Malfoy manor,” Potter says slowly, his voice rough. Just as rough as Orions. Maybe the kids been crying too- in fact, it looks like there’s fresh gashes on his neck. Slightly scabbed. Always injured this one. “Why not go back?”

Orion opened and shut his mouth.

“Because everything changes.”

“Everything changed anyway.” Hadrian stares up at him. His tone isn’t argumentative, just regretful. Like he had become all of Orion’s worries and thoughts-

Orion’s silence prompts the boy to change conversation. “Everyone feels pissed off, is that why you’re outside?”

“I may or may not be the source of that.”

“I can’t imagine what you did.”

“Probably the same thing you wanted to do,” Orion replied wryly. “I heard you didn’t like the painting.”

“I’ve always hated alive paintings,” the boy replies, his gaze faraway before he shudders slightly, glancing away. “I take it you destroyed it then. What a pity, I wanted to do that.”

Orion shakes his head, looking away.

“Are you going to stay?”

“I don’t know,” the kid replies honestly. “I don’t belong here Mr Black. It’s too… tight, it’s suffocating.” Orion closed his eyes. So other people notice. “I thought this was friends and family, not that you were running an organisation.”

“I ask myself the same thing often,” he confesses quietly. He glances down to find the kid scrutinizing him with dark eyes.

“Hmm.” Potter looks along the building edge, observing everything. “Does… does Draco and Hayes know?”

“Regulus is telling them now. I fear Hogwarts is going to be closed for a while.” The boy closes his eyes and looks for a moment, like the epitome of defeat.

“I didn’t mean to destroy it.”

“I don’t blame you, it’ll be rebuilt and apart from… Longbottom and Granger, nobody died.” He didn’t expect him to flinch so violently at the sound of the muggleborns name, but he did. So he sets a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go and get those wounds sorted.”

Potter let’s him coerce him into the house and when they finally get to his room, Remus comes and worriedly re-wraps his bandaged, applies salve to his wounds and squawks like a madman when he sees the new wounds around Potters neck, all the while giving Potter a lecture on why he shouldn’t have left- and berated him that he’d taken Edwin and not himself.

“Where is the vampire?”

“I don’t know.” Orion cocks his head. Could it be that Potter hadn’t gone to the underground and the vampire was keeping it a secret?

“But you told me he’d protect you-”

“Remus I don’t know.” His tone was aggressive, irritated and Orion sighed.

Eventually Remus left at Orion silent request, leaving him in the room with the moody teenager.

“Can I show you something?” He asks Potter. The boy glances up.

“Is this because you don’t want to leave?”

This fucker-

Orion sighs. “Yeah, sure. Let’s think of it that way.” The boy seemed to huff in amusement and then asks,

“Show me what?” Orion smirks, offering his hand.

“It’s a surprise.”

A hand grabbed his and moments before he apparated, Orion noticed it was scarred, lightly, very, very faint white lines.

But then they’re gone and they leave the room empty once more.

Chapter Text

The grounds are quiet, almost eerie as Hadrian stares up at the main door. It’s arching black oak doors had two statues of wolves sat outside with two dishes in their mouths. He remembers hanging from them when he was younger and climbing them and then laughing at Orion because his brother didn’t have the nimbleness to understand how to climb and had fallen flat on his backside with much indignity.

He stares at the great stone wall and how it shaped to create a courtyard in front of the front door, a horse stable on the right where his horse Sassafras had been stationed next to Blaze and they would frequently take them on rides throughout the forty-two hectare property that used to be the marvel of the Wizarding world.

Ivy climbed up the limestone bricks and weeds had taken over the ivy beds and usually the outdoor ornamental lanterns were lit and would have cast a warm glow on the walls but it was utterly dark and blinds were drawn closed and the windows of a room were shattered and his heart broke a little bit more. There was always food being made and there was a lack of smoke coming out of the chimney, a lack of noise- even the trees seemed quiet.

There was the orchard out back where Orion, Hadrian, Tom, Thaddeus, Abraxas, Reinhard and Aiden had gorged themselves on berries, pears, mandarins and the odd plum if the ancient tree decided it was going to drop some that year.

Those moments were the ones he enjoyed the most, in the warm caress of spring with everyone he enjoyed being with and his family calling through the kitchen windows for dinner that would be something unique from overseas and something new for them all to try. He enjoyed saving his friends from the tumult at their homes and hiding them away in his room, slamming the closet shut and when their parents flooed around, hid them with expert magic- muggle magic. There was a wall behind his clothes that one could slip into and no magic would be detected- apart from a presence hider but of course no one was there.

So the parents- especially Aidens parents, would go home empty handed. Abraxas and Reinhard were usually the other residents of that tiny closet but he always set up a bed or simply let them sleep in his bed while he slept with Orion or if more than one of them were there, they’d flip around on the bed with their feet hanging off the edge and sleeping like sausage rolls.

The horse treks were the best, exploring the property and the extent of magical terrain it ran to. One could spend three days out there and not see the house for miles. Covered in hills, trees and ponds-

It truly was stunning and home to many magical creatures. Thestrals swarmed, probably courtesy of Hadrian, there was an odd wild kneazle and the odd unicorn that ran past but it was the birds and rabbit-like things that frequented the property most.

Except it was empty, quiet- dead. Covered in snow and ice and the fountain was frozen in the carriage circle and the drive hadn’t been cleared. There was no clear lines of where one should go- where the road was-

And he hated it-

“Why?” He asked Orion.

“Because it hurt.” He glances at the broken window, the windows of the Master room- Orion follows his gaze. “That’s where I had to tell my father that his son was dead. We never repaired it, just moved.”

“You didn’t stay in Grimmauld.”

“No, for the same reason.” Hadrian can’t say anything, jeez he’s barely breathing, like a single wisp of air on the property might cause it to crumble into ash.

He wants to punch Orion but it’s out of place- it’s not his place-

“Christmas is in three days,” he says quietly. Orion looked at him strangely- near hopeful for a moment.

“It is.”

“I don’t feel like I’d be welcome.” Orion cocks his head.

“Has Hayes done something wrong-”

“I don’t feel…” he drops his gaze to his feet, coming up with the right words. What did he feel?

Anger? That Draco wasn’t the Draco he knew- that his friends weren’t his friends- that it all felt like an acquaintanceship rather than a friendship. He was angry he wasn’t who he used to be or who he will be or what he wants to be and he’s angry he doesn’t know where he lies in the world and he feels like a ghost moving between lives. He has no meaning, how can people stand him?

He’s not a person.

He’s died and he’s died and he’s suffered and died and what for? He failed?

The only thing he ever succeeded in doing was saving Tom and Hadrian doesn’t regret it. Really he doesn’t, he’s glad he can have something to say for his life but what does he do when one day he’s going to have to explain how he came to get this ability?

That he killed Tom in another life and somehow, somehow came back in time?

Would somebody explain it? Would they?

Because he needed someone- and it might very well be Orion and he can’t even hug his brother, he can’t comfort him and it’s driving him insane.

But he shies away from the complexity that life will have when he comes back and that it can’t be all simple and easy like it used to be. They can’t lie down in the orchard and be as they were- they were burdened, tethered to their lives whereas Hadrian has overcome that. He’s moved through it.

He’s had his chains and he’s broken them and now fear is his only motivation. Fear and the urge to protect them all and he can’t-

A headache blooms and his chest becomes cold like it had when he hadn’t had a heart- during the battle- it all feels hazy, it all feels the same. He feels ill, alienated in his own body and lost-

Can someone be saved from this? Can he be redeemed? From hiding away from the pain and suffering he inadvertently caused with his own two hands?

How can he look anyone in the eyes and tell them he’s fine? How can he give up on one of the lives he’s lived if he’s still so attached to both of them? Is it fair to make a choice? To abandon a boy again who never really had a choice to begin with?

“Can you tell me what to do?” Hadrian asks.

“Well, I’m going to tell you to look around, while I head back for a moment.” Orion passes him something, a piece of paper. “Tear it when you want to come back.” Hadrian watches his brother disappear and leaves him alone.

He glances back at the house.

His sister and mother were dead, his grandparents were long gone- long enough gone that Hadrian had seen them off, good riddance- but the small family wasn’t so small any more.

With Orion, Sirius, Regulus and his wife and Hayes and Arcturus. If Hadrian chose a life over another- it would be seven and he has no doubts that Orion would gleefully chuck the responsibility of Head of House at him again and it would amuse Hadrian but he’d accept anyway, because it gave him something to do- places to be and people to see.

It gives him excuses and it gives him distractions.

So he’d say yes and then he’d retire later and hand it to Regulus because Sirius never liked to be tethered like that. He was a canine in love with a moon and he’d spend forever chasing the night and Regulus would be at home, tending to his family and they would all be together. Sirius would come home, Friday nights maybe and they’d sit around the dinner table, laughing and having those delicious family recipes and one night he’d bring Remus out and the werewolf would eventually recover from the loss of Potter and join in too. He’d be family and if Remus asked Hadrian for permission, he’d say yes.

In the morning he’d wake up and the house would be full of people and house elves and loud and he wouldn’t be alone and the quiet wouldn’t scare him so much any more.

He wouldn’t jump at the sight of moving portraits because it would be people Hadrian knew, portraits he controlled-

His eyes burned and he didn’t want to enter. He didn’t want to step through the door-

But he did, he did and then he was walking quickly and he pushed open the door, unlocked and something about it made his heart jolt.

It was waiting and open and welcoming and sad- so terribly sad and abandoned and he never wanted to leave-

He was rooted to the floor on the precipice as his mind was overcome and Hadrian couldn’t take it.

He was home and that was it, so he sank down against the wall and he stared.

The stasis charms were everywhere, waiting and patient and lulling- loud and soft and everything-

He can finally breathe.

He runs a hand over the wooden floors because despite their promoted values and beliefs, the Blacks hadn’t been all about money and blood.

Wood was enough, sandstone was enough. Old trees that threatened to topple during storms were good because they were fun to climb and swing from- and dirty ponds were good because they made great dares and punishments for little brothers who refused to listen. Mind you it was only a by month or two that Orion was younger and he always paid back twice fold what he received- as Hadrian had taught him, even if he’d be the one receiving it.

He gazes down the hall to the reception room, then to the study and the dining room-

He didn’t move for a long while, staring at familiar walls and doors and halls.

There was something so strange that no one came to greet him, or say hello- or criticism him for being late again-

Perhaps the portraits had been right.

He’s glad it’s gone though.

It’s a slow trudge through the house as he walks up the stairs to his fathers room, pushing open the door and gazed upon shattered furniture that no one had bothered to fix. He remembers wandering in there on occasion to see what his father was doing and interrupting many important meetings, stealing many important books, fiddling with a lot of gadgets he probably shouldn’t have touched and had enjoyed the company of his father for what remained of his adolescent years.

But the dark blue magic that clings everywhere is wrathful. It’s pure rage and anger and everything paternal and nothing at all fatherly. It’s hot and wild and he can imagine it. But even if he could, he didn’t need to. He drew the magic towards him- and figures appeared, the traces of where they’d been and a ghost door slammed open.

Orion burst up through the door so much so one of the hinges broke and then shouted, “He’s dead! Dad- dad Hadrian dead!”

Arcturus was sitting at the table and had been looking at something and there’s disbelief on his face- before everything shattered, like a wave- an explosion, the glass shattered and Orion can’t breathe- he can’t breathe because- because he can’t see. His mind is still staring at a corpse on the ground and he can’t- he can’t- but he has to-

Someone killed his brother and Orion can’t breathe-

“YOU LIE ! HADRIAN! ” Arcturus roars like his brother might hear but he’s gone and he’s not coming back. “Tell me Orion! Where! How! WHERE IS MY SON ORION WHERE IS HE!” His magic fluxes, his eyes are glowing like a new moon and his hair floats with the force of the magic he’s exerting and Orion grips the door frame so hard it splinters- he doesn’t notice.

“The moors, on the moors- murdered- a battle? I don’t know-”

The two of them race out and the magic goes with it, leaving Hadrian empty and cold as he stands in an empty room, abandoned and broken.

He lifts his hand to where his brother had gripped the door and then dropped it-

And then a soft blue glow tinges the walls and Hadrian glances over his shoulder.

Ekkathion had slipped through the windows and was sitting there, waiting, watching. Blue as the waves and blue as ravenclaw, full of knowledge and wisdom and generosity-

The dragon who had been carved open-

He shakes the image away, walking towards him and reached out, his hand passing through a face. He winces.

“Ekkathion…” The dragon doesn’t make a sound but merely blinks. “Am I doing the right thing? Being a Black again?” Ekkathion blinks slowly before smiling, teeth and all but a tongue lolls out in such a dog-like fashion that he smiles anyway. But it fades. “But what about Remus? And Fleamont? I can’t let- I can’t let Potter die…”

The dragon points at him. The guilt is too much-

“I know I let you die but-” Ekkathion shakes his head and then shook it furiously, glaring at Hadrian and pointing at himself and then at him- no, no at Potter’s body. silence ensues as Hadrian stares at Ekkathion. “You want to be Potter? I suppose- I suppose he can shift so it would be like being you again-”

He glances out the shattered windows, the snow had flickered in, the wards broken along with the glass.

“Would you want to stay near me? You’d be only a child and you’ll be a target. It’ll confuse Neville but I’m not bringing you back just to lose you to him again.” Ekkathion blinks and then smiles, carefree. It’s been a while since he’s smiled. “You’d get all the changing abilities as well I suppose, you’d be powerful Ekkathion, powerful. Would you do it? Be a wizard and an animagus?” The dragon bows his head. “And I’d just be me again?” The dragon curls up around him, supporting him- even if he can’t touch him. But he feels hopeful. Hopeful for once in a long while.

Potter would still exist and could still create a relationship with Draco and the others as well as not letting Remus and Sirius down- it would allow him to explain- so many things. Why Potter was targeted but-

He snorts.

“We’d need to change your name back to Harry.” Ekkathion silently laughs and he gazes at his dragon, his friend and companion- and he smiles.

Death flutters in through the windows, waiting- and all of a sudden it’s the three who started it all, sitting and waiting for a new beginning and for Hadrian to make a decision.

“Okay, you have to promise me though, that you’ll be okay.” Ekkathion dips his head and to Death’s surprise, Hadrian looks at him too.

The bird only puffs up his feathers and looked quite proud.

And so it was.

He gazes at the glowing blue dragon heart of Ekkathion inside his rib cage- sitting there, humming with things he’s forgotten and a body he needed-

So he reached forward and one touch- had him blacking out.

Hours must have passed, for he lay on the floor with a bird graciously sitting on his chest and the rooms temperature had dropped astronomically. There was also the breathing of someone else and he suddenly felt much taller- heavier-

He drops his head back down to the floorboards, staring at the ceiling for a long while.

Merlin everything felt different-

{And he’s finally returned,} Death says softly. Hadrian let’s out a shaky sigh- one of relief and realisation and remembrance.

{I feel free.}

{Likely because you are no longer three warring personalities,} Death replies humourously. Hadrian raised a brow in question. {Your indecisiveness was a consequence of taking over a body you weren’t meant to inhabit. Potter was someone else long before you reincarnated and so the child was still fighting back. It’s why you felt childish sometimes, old another time or why you missed your brother.}

Well he has no words for that. But his interactions as Potter now felt like a distant memory, a time long since passed. Everything had felt like a pile of sand, swept away by a slight gust of wind and now- well now everything was like a new clarity.

He tilts his head to come face to face with someone who looked familiar and yet different. It was most definitely Harry Potter- with that scar and with that jet black hair- but he was tall, fit- and sleeping soundly.

{Ekkathion will be tired coming back to life, I should expect him to wake up in a while. You must stay with him until then.} He sits up slowly, his body aching but he supposes that’s to be expected. To return to what he was, fully fixed up and dead and whatever- yeah he was lucky a slight ache was all it was.

{There’s no going back now,} He jokes and Death pins him with a stare before clacking his beak in dismissal. “You must be tired,” he whispered. Death doesn’t say anything but his feather’s look dulled and his eyes aren’t as shiny or beady as they usually are. He pulls Death into the crook of his arm and the bird hides his head in his elbow while he pulls Ekkathion close, resting his head on his leg rather than hard wooden floors. {Thanks for staying by me.}

{For as long as you want me around, I will be here,} Death murmurs. {I’ve never met someone like you before.} Hadrian’s mouth twitches slightly.

{There’s a first for everything.} Death’s head lolls and eventually the being fell asleep and Hadrian leant his head against the wall- feeling long hair get trapped between his back and the stone.

He ought to thank Orion, very thoroughly for bringing him here but he suspected that he had known- he’d seen the way he spoke to other children and the way he spoke to him- it was different.

But he was back now and that was okay. The way of the world was back on track and now he could help everyone.

And maybe his friends were right, maybe it was time to put the most powerful wizards he knows, on the battlefield.

The issue would lie solely with Hadrian.

He wants to protect them, he wants to shelter them but his death shattered any hopes of that and he might have broken them with his own hands worse than anything Neville could have done.

But, he needs the Black manor back in order and for that he needs to fix all the broken things, get it in order and do it secretly. The underground might do it for him if he pays them but he only has access to the Potter vaults and…

He glances down at Ekkathion.

Someone else would need them all even if he tried to give Hadrian everything, Ekkathion needed to stand on his own two feet. Speaking of dragons, he needed to free the others from the tournament and bring them to the Black Manor. They could rest on the mountains on the northern border and he could attempt to buy the property by selling everything else underneath his name. Correction, Moriarty’s name. He had invested thousands of galleons into property and investments and if he was to go to the ministry, he could lay claim to those mountains. He’d always wanted to, so he might as well now.

He did however, need to get the Elder Wand off of his brother. He’d felt it, he just need to get it before Christmas.

Which was… he casts a tempus… two days and seven hours away. He glances out into the dark and sighs casting a warming charm around the three of them.

Death chirps in the lulls of sleep and eventually, Hadrian decides he’s too tired to think of things. He throws up a shield to protect them and keep them invisible from the naked eye, and then he too, fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Hadrian opened his eyes to two slitted green eyes and a face that had horns spilling from black hair and scales working along the jaw of a face he’d been familiar with for three years. Ekkathion was observing Hadrian closely and then sat back, his hands taloned and his magic softened.

“Ekkathion,” Hadrian says, sitting up and Death chirps, reminding him the sleeping deity was still in his arms. He glances back at the dragon boy who sat there quietly- and he would because Ekkathion didn’t know how to operate a human body it would seem.

{It feels strange.}

His voice was such a relief to hear and Hadrian sighed regardless of what happened and leant against the wall. The expressionless face of Ekkathion was slightly disturbing but that was to be expected. Expressions were learnt, to an extent. Ekkathion would have to learn a many knew things.

“How many things do you remember?”

{Everything. I remember… parts, of the boys life, with Fleamont. Do you want them?}

“No. That would only hurt more.” Ekkathion nods, looking jerky with the movements before glancing out the window. To have this much control, Ekkathion must have been awake for a while. “Do you know how to shift?”

Green eyes soften but they’re still just as intense as ever.

{You worry too much. I already went out. I didn’t manage to wake you up before I did.}

His bones feel stiff enough that he could likely confirm the truth of that statement on his own.

“I missed you,” he says softly. “So, so much.”

It takes a moment of darkness rising from the ground to encompass the human form of Ekkathion, for a smaller version of Ekkathion to fill the space and press an inky black snout to his palm.

{I tried to find you and I never could. I followed you and never found you.}

Hadrian presses his forehead to the dragon, feeling cool scales against his skin.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry for asking you to fight I’m sorry for underestimating Neville and I’m sorry- I’m so so sorry that you had to pass like that.”

{In battle with you? Hades… It’s all I wanted. It’s all any dragon wants.} The dragon huffs warm breath onto Hadrian and he feels at one again, at peace.

He would ask Ekkathion later what to do with Potter’s body and memories but for now, the two of them were in no rush besides the fact it was almost Christmas and he has to save Riddle-

Ekkathion reaches around and plucks out scales from his hide and Hadrian jerks-

“Ekk-”

The dragon drops the scales into his hand and levels Hadrian with a stare.

{My strongest scales for your strongest wizard. Save him.} Hadrian stared at the scales and gripped them tightly.

“You are alright with this?”

{A few scales are a few scales, they will regrow.} He glances down to his forelegs where there was still some raw skin and Hadrian winced.

“I’m sorry Ekk, it was-”

{Angry, you were angry,} the dragon interrupts, {I do the same. We were one and the same for a while. It is okay. Are you okay, with giving up the body that was meant for you?}

“I don’t want to be a dragon if I don’t get to be with you.” The dragon rolls his eyes but he can feel slight happiness from the dragon. He’s not worried to try again and he’s happy to finally have found him and Hadrian was back and everything was going to be just, fine.

He checks the time and they still have three hours until dawn and he knows nobody will visit Tom so early-

Ekkathion nudged his arm, urging him on.

{It is cruel to leave him be. Give me the bird and I will make sure he rests while you go.}

Ekkathion curls and he passes Death over to rest upon his talons and then Hadrian stands, pushing himself upright and glancing at his clothes. They were torn and bloody and totally unbefitting for a visit to Tom so he scrounges around his fathers office and checks draws for a dark blue dress shirt and pants as well as a fresh set of boots.

He looks at his hair and spends the next few minutes scrounging in the remnants of his fathers draw for the comb and when he finds it, quickly brushes out his hair.

He can almost hear Ekkathion laughing at him but now he has something to do and when it’s over- he’ll still have stuff to do.

His life was a never ending battle, against himself, against his loved ones and against his enemies. It was a battle every morning and every night came with a new fear but it was a good life and it was one full of meaning which not everyone can claim to have.

He glances back at Ekkathion and Death, his two supporters through all else and both a blessed gift.

Ekkathion nods and Hadrian spells himself with a notice-me-not and a quick cloaking spell before he tears the paper Orion had given him and feels a vortex before he’s dropped out at the fountain and Orion leans against it and Hadrian remains crouched, looking at his brother who looks at his watch and then at where Hadrian had dropped very worriedly but also in something like defeat. His blue eyes gazing somewhere else, deep in thought and he seemed to be oblivious to the use of the spell which means Hadrian’s cloaking spell was powerful enough.

His gut does do a painful wrench as he gazes at his brother though. He just wants to stand and give his brother a hug but he made a promise. He made a promise and he has to abide by it.

He glances at his pockets and sees a slight lump in a hip holster and he slowly- very very slowly moves and maintains just out of his peripheral vision and carefully floats the wand out- Orion doesn’t react, muttering to himself.

So he slowly moves back, Elder Wand in hand- and then swiftly disappears inside the manor and up familiar marble stairs, long hallways towards where his assigned room was and the door was ajar enough for him to slip inside- right to where Remus and Sirius were standing.

“-not our way to kill children,” Sirius says harshly and Hadrian blinks.

He looks so differently, taller, more… more what? He looked like he’d still play pranks and roll around on a fluffy rug but his hair was neat, he appeared healthy and he his sense of style had drastically improved. Someone had finally managed to find black pants and a coat with a reddish-orange turtle-neck that looked suspiciously like the colour of Remus’s hair and someone- probably Remus, had introduced him to a shaver and a good haircut. Hair just below ear length and a clean, full beard, Sirius certainly looked like his father and he looked very close to how Hadrian looked when he grew a bear.

He scratches his chin in reminiscence.

Maybe he will, he liked his beard but he does need to cut his hair either way.

“But he just disappeared again with your father and he came back alone and he’s not coming back inside. Don’t tell me that that’s not suspicious Siri.” Remus argued, looking alight with worry and anger. Sirius glared at Remus and Hadrian hated seeing them argue.

Therefore, it would be best to be on his way and do as he saw fit. He glanced at the draw and scuttled over, trying to avoid the two lupine protectors and when he reached it, had to wait, unfortunately until they were shouting.

“You can’t just accuse my father of killing him! That is absurd Remus! We know he disappears often I don’t see how this is any different-”

“He destroyed the portrait-”

“Oh come on, everyone knows he hates portraits! I hated the portrait! That’s got nothing to do with my father-” He opens the draw, feeling slightly down that something he’d left behind had been so hated.

But he pulled out the red vial, the pestle and then froze as he felt eyes on him.

“Uncle?” A voice asks hesitantly and the two men cut off.

“Hayes- we’re just-”

“Listen this is just-” the two cut off abruptly and sighed.

“Pup we’re just trying to figure out where he went.”

“Did grandfather take him out?”

“Yes and he’s back without him.”

“Hadrian probably decided to leave from wherever they went. Mr Malfoy probably won’t let him in since y’know…” Silence continued and the hairs on the back of his neck rose but he couldn’t move. “Um, but on a side note I felt something weird.”

“Wierd?”

“Yeah, it felt like Hadrian but it wasn’t. It moved inside and now it’s in here.” The two men sniffed the air and Sirius shifted. He could hear dog paws- and then a low growl that neared him.

If the magic broke…

He silenced his steps and slowly moved- just as Sirius lunged, barely passing where he’d just been.

He glances back and Remus and Hayes were scrutinising the space.

He slowly worked around them and Hayes slowly turned to follow him but a few steps behind- so when he lunged out, claws and all, it was on empty space and Hadrian was out the door and chose to run, up the stairs and to Tom’s room.

He slips inside and locks the door. He’s incredibly weak, he can feel that in an instance but uncovering himself makes him feel whole again. Like something had clicked into place as he sets all the items down on the side of the bed and gazes at a gaunt face slick with sweat and eyes firmly sealed shut-

Hadrian reached out, a spell on the tips of his fingers and a slight touch along his jaw as he used to do when Tom overworked himself, has his complexion improving and his breathing evened out- his eyes even fluttered slightly.

He was so much calmer when he was asleep-

The lines of that familiar angular face were too sharp, the skin stretched too tight and- and those eyes were like blemished rubies.

Tom stared at him and stared a bit more.

“Hello my love,” Hadrian whispers, kneeling beside him. Tom stares at him and then he sees something click and Tom opens his mouth-

And his voice is so gravelly, so rough and so broken the words are barely understandable.

“Am I dead?” Hadrian hums in amusement, green eyes mercilessly twinkling at Riddle.

“Bold of you to assume I’d let you die.” He gently rubs a thumb along his cheek, feeling the slight reaction from the contact. “Fata viam invenient. I’m back.”

He was quiet, Tom. It was strange, he’s never been so quiet before and now Hadrian was worried. “I thought I felt you before… were you avoiding me?” He sounded heartbroken and Hadrian leant against the edge of the bed, looking at him.

“I’ll explain later, I promise. But this is no good is it?”

He slowly begins making the thing that would cure him but had to make it twice as potent and slipped some of his own blood in it too.

“Am I dreaming?”

“Well, even if you were,” Hadrian says softly, knowing there was nothing he could say or do to convince him, “I’d still be here when you woke up.” He tips it all into a vial and grips the elder wand.

“I can’t move my hands,” Tom mutters, “I can’t prove anything.”

“That’s okay, just focus on me.” He turns around with the vial and Tom eyes it with familiarity and the eyes flick tiredly back to Hadrian and he gently holds it up to chapped lips and Tom drinks it-

And his magic exploded in the air and he gasped as he finished it- and the soul started floating and Hadrian held up a hand and began speaking, “Collige, redi ad vas (Collect, return to the vessel), Impero tibi, redi, unde venisti (I tell you, go back whence you came).” The soul he felt, red and tinged with blood and pain and agony began to gather and form a body- a body that slowly worked back to the body and when it hesitated, Hadrian’s eyes flashed and it began to fight him-

Whatever spell Tom had used, it was a strong one and one that parted the soul from the body- likely for eternity. On accident, it would seem. But it was searching for something-

Him. It was searching for him-

In fact the magic began moving towards him and not the body and Hadrian couldn’t let go of the spell- but a hand touched his chest- over his heart and then- was sucked back into Tom’s body that arched and gasped painfully, coughing all at once and then Hadrian felt him pass out.

Panic filled him as he rushed over and grabbed his wrist, checking his heartbeat- Riddle had been fully sustained by magic and therefore hadn’t eaten or drank nearly as much as he should have.

So Hadrian spent the next hour healing Tom and restoring his health to a point where he wouldn’t die overnight and throughout the night, sustained vigil to ensure that Tom’s condition was improving and not worsening.

In the early hours just before the sun broke on the horizon and where Hadrian was seated beside Riddle, watching and waiting for some illness to besiege him- Tom slowly woke up.

He was bleary, quite unfocused and pale-

But still the first thing he did was lift his head to look to his side, right where Hadrian had been seated and to where he moved forward to his side.

“Tom?” The man lifted a hand that drifted across Hadrian’s face to his hair and the he let loose a shuddery breath. He doesn’t say anything though, just stroking Hadrian’s head like he used to and so Hadrian concedes to just rest his head on his arms and closing his eyes.

His chest felt light for the first time in a while and he also felt like crying but nevertheless, he was back and Tom was alive and he was finally physically him-

The only thing keeping him from breaking down was the repetitive strokes from Tom, letting his headache float away.

He could feel his magic and Tom could hopefully feel his and everything was beginning to return to normal.

He let loose a long sigh and opened his eyes again and Tom was still watching him, looking like he was in a daze.

“I’m awake,” Tom rasps at last. Two fingers fiddle with a strand of Hadrian’s hair. “I can feel this.” He holds up his hair and Hadrian grabs Tom’s hand gingerly- “No- no if you touch me it feels fake.” So Hadrian lets go and let’s Tom keep touching. If that’s what it took to keep him grounded. Tom pushed the hair behind Hadrian’s ear and a hand fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “This is… your father’s.”

“Well my clothes were ruined,” he comments with a sigh, also fiddling with the sleeve. “It was also all that was in the Black Manor that I knew of.” A hand touched his lips, that quirk in a slight smile. Though he frowns as he notices Tom’s hands have new scars he didn’t remember being there. His hands twitch for it before remembering Tom’s request and he owes the man a lot. So he waits to comment on it later.

“Come,” Tom murmurs, grabbing Hadrian’s wrist and pulling him into the bed.

“Tom-”

“Just for rest,” the man says with that gravelly voice, eyes dark and direct. So Hadrian obliges and kicks off his shoes and and slips beside Tom, his head on the same pillow and Tom stares at him- before a hand slips around his waist and pulls him closer- a head burying into the crook of neck-

And Tom burst into tears- great wracking sobs and Hadrian holds him as his whole body convulses, his shirt getting soaked and his heart breaking as he listened to the torn, broken heaves. He runs a hand through inky black hair, slightly bluish and it needs urgently washing. But he ignores all the grease and the way it stays in the same position when he moves it. He lays a kiss to Tom’s forehead.

“It’s all going to be okay,” he whispers, his voice cracking as Tom’s emotions get to him. “It’s all going to be okay now.” And it wasn’t just Tom that needed to hear that, Hadrian needed to hear it with a certain desperation and saying it aloud slightly accomplished that. He needed Tom to be strong so Hadrian could be strong too.

They were a pair and for them both to be their best, both of them needed to have each other.

And now they were and Hadrian pushed away, temporarily, the thoughts of everyone, everything and anything, away.

A hand pulls on his arm, trying to grab him and keep him in place so he doesn’t move- so he doesn’t leave.

There’s a bathroom attached to the room and Hadrian, before morning, was going to coerce him into it so that he could also change, clean and wash the bedding. It was a simple thing but when he was gone again in the morning, it would show that Tom hadn’t dreamt who it was and when he was clean, that it hadn’t all been a dream.

Tom eventually stops crying and sits up- looking pained and Hadrian sat up with him, a hand to his back. He can almost feel the pain by the intensified heat against his palm. Like his muscles were contorted and distorted now that the blood had begun circulating again but was twice as painful as the usual healing process because foreign magic was intervening. Tom tilts his head in and Hadrian bows his head too and the two of them just sit there for a moment.

“It’s been a long time,” Tom says quietly.

“I know.”

“A lot has changed.”

“I know that too.”

“A lot will change.” Red eyes watch him with a renewed intensity. Hadrian doesn’t bother hiding anything on his face.

“Then I hope you’ll help me.” It would be now that Riddle would close his eyes and think but he didn’t- his eyes remained focused almost to an absurd degree, as if taking his eyes off of Hadrian would cause him to dissipate.

“I’ll always help you. You just never let me.”

“Someone told me that needs to change.” Tom huffs against Hadrian jaw and then whispered in his ear,

“I think that may have been me.”

“No,” Hadrian says with a smirk, “it was someone much too intelligent to be you.” Tom’s lips finally begin to twitch.

“You haven’t changed.”

“I’d like to think I’ve returned to what I was, thank you,” Hadrian responds with a kiss to the corner of Tom’s mouth. “But, very politely, you are having a bath.”

Tom’s eyes brightened slightly.

“Only if you join me.” Hadrian huffs.

“Cheeky bastard. Who else thinks it’s hot in here?” He stands up and drags Tom with him and he opens the windows while Tom stands behind him, observing- not moving too much. He’s unsteady on his feet, he hasn’t walked in a while and there’d be muscles to regrow. But he grabs Tom’s hand as he moved around the giant room, cracking the windows only slightly. Obviously they wouldn’t have been opened before to keep Tom’s soul from flying away but the air was stale and fresh air was needed to recover.

The bathroom was white marble and both Tom and Hadrian make a slightly aggrieved sound and snatched a glance before both smiled slightly.

Malfoy flavour truly was over-rated.

Black marble and greenery was the way to go as well as the odd hint of red.

Hadrian fills up the bath, lights a few candles and jabs his fingers into Tom’s bony side.

“Shirt off.” Tom hesitates, fingers on the buttons and then opened and closed his mouth. “Tom, look at me.” Ruby eyes filled with self-loathing looked up and Hadrian grabbed his face. “If I was only with you because of what you looked like you would have kicked me out years ago. You and I have gone through bad things and we’ll get through this.”

“I’ve lost… a lot,” Tom admits, looking wary of Hadrian’s reaction.

“Then we’ll be thankful that Kreacher likes to cook for twenty,” Hadrian responds and Tom snorts. Hadrian grabs the buttons and Tom goes to stop him and Hadrian is fully prepared to pull away but Tom just nods and he begins unbuttoning.

He’s not wrong, in fact he’s returned to the way he looked in their third year. His ribs are more pronounced and his stomach is shrunken slightly but that’s to be expected. But there’s no scars, no infections and no obvious signs of internal injury- until he gets to the collar- where there’s a slight stab line- a knife. It wasn’t wide enough to be anything wider than the tip of a blade and yet…

It’s more telling than any of Hadrian’s own scars.

It’s smooth and slightly silvery, old.

Tom doesn’t say anything but watches him in defeated silence.

Hadrian blinks away his own tears and Tom sighs.

“It was hard, Hades,” Tom murmurs, hands eventually cupping his face and Hadrian stared at his face. Ill and weary from so many battles- physical and not. The face of a fighter, a warrior and maybe, even, a believer. “It was only your promise that made me stop. I couldn’t bear the thought of you coming back and I wasn’t here. That you’d be looking for someone who was dead and that our paths would be split for even longer. So I wanted to talk and ask you- and I couldn’t. I failed, the spell failed because I couldn’t find you.” Tom wet his lips and then looked away, looking like he was going to cry- Hadrian was.

So he did what he wanted and grabbed Tom’s face and kissed him- Because he had to and because he had to tell Tom somehow, despite words failing him, that he loved him. No matter what. No matter Griffin or anyone else. Tom came first, before all else. He’d stuck through Hadrian thick and thin and he ought to repay that to it’s fullest.

Tom sighed against his lips as they leant their foreheads against one another, swaying slightly.

“Hades, Hades Hades…” Tom murmured, his eyes closed and Hadrian held the hand against his cheek, not really thinking of anything in the moment.

“I think I’m going to let you take the lead from now on,” he whispers, opening his eyes. “I’ve tried to be a leader too many times and I fail.” Tom’s gaze softened.

“That’s not true. I think everyone would say differently.” Hadrian huffs and whispered,

“Get in the fucking bath.” Tom laughs- actually laughs and strips as he was due, over his self-consciousness and Hadrian goes to get soap when Tom asks wryly, “Where are you going?” Hadrian yelps as he’s suddenly pulled, fully clothed- into the bath.

It was such a Tom manoeuvre that he breaks out into laughter, soaking wet and in clothes he’d just borrowed.

“Where the hell am I supposed to get clothes?” He accuses, turning around in the warm water to flick Toms nose and enjoyed watching his face scrunch up before it turned into his signature smirk, eyes flittering across Hadrian’s features.

“From my closet of course. You were always stealing my clothes.” Hadrian huffs indignantly.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever done that.” He leans down and pulls off wet socks and hands feel his chest and he rolls his eyes as Riddle began undoing his shirt and he clucks his tongue. “Cheeky bastard.”

He leans forward again and helps pull off the sleeves and a hand begins searching for scars.

“You aren’t going to like what you find,” Hadrian says quietly. A hand grazes over where a new slit right up his sternum sat, having been destroyed by Neville, by the sword. A head sits on his shoulder, a familiar, gratifying weight and so Hadrian remains quiet.

There’s new scars on Hadrian’s own arms, down his back from where his heart had been torn out but luckily it was another jagged line like the flesh had converged and there were more around his waist and hips. There’s more on his knees from where his limbs had been cut, like around his wrists that must have been done after his death and there’s some on his ankles and knees.

It would take time to adjust to but in their own form… Hadrian was glad to have them and be alive rather than not have them and be dead and in a body that wasn’t his own.

He can feel Tom’s wrath but leans into his chest and Tom sighs.

“I should be glad your alive. But this… this…” a hand slides down his back, over the rugged skin. A warm breath on his back. “It makes me furious. You had to do it alone didn’t you? You couldn’t share it with us.” Hadrian stared at his feet at the end of the bathtub and Tom puts pressure on his sides with his knees and Hadrian runs a hand over a knee.

“I’d rather die before I put a spike through your heart Tom. I didn’t need to fight you too.”

“You died. Now it’s my turn,” Tom mutters, teeth grazing against his ear before bloodlust poured from him- not aimed at him but it was debilitating all the same and incredibly dizzying, “to pay back what he did to you and tear him limbs from limb. I’ll take away him magic and I’ll torture him. You can have the final blow.” Hadrian tilted his head back to lean on Tom’s shoulder and looked up at him while he looked down.

“Is that a promise?” He asks quietly, his voice betraying some of his feelings. Tom leans down and bites his bottom lip gently.

“That’s a promise.” Hadrian nodded to himself and then sat up and turned around, pants still on and straddled Tom, grabbing the soap from behind him while two hands settle gingerly on his hips.

It’s a quiet, close affair washing Tom’s hair and scrubbing him down. Tom opts to shave later than do it then and Hadrian scratches the stray beard hairs in a teasing manner and it earns Tom’s mild ire that swiftly dissipates.

Eventually black hair drapes over red eyes and Hadrian smiles, more proud than anything else.

This absurdly handsome man, even at his lowest- managed to steal Hadrian’s breath.

“I’ve missed you,” he confesses once the two are just sitting in the water. Tom’s eyes had long since closed but he hummed as he leant against Hadrian, who had his back pressed to the bathtub now. “Not having you around drove me mad.”

“So you were around,” Tom says sleepily.

“To an extent,” he murmurs back, observing him. Tom doesn’t accuse him of anything, likely trusting him to explain later as he promised he would. From the slightly open door, he vanishes the sheets, the duvet and the inner and the pillows- leaving him with a mattress and that he vanishes to god knows where.

He summons another one from a random room in the Malfoy manor, as well as bed linen and when he’s content with that, traces Tom’s back.

“Do you have to go?” Tom murmurs into his collarbone. “You could stay we me until Christmas.”

“I need to go and take care of Ekkathion.” Tom finally blinks blearily, looking up at him.

“Ekkathion is back too?”

“In a way.” Tom’s eyes unfocused before he nods, understanding the implication that Ekkathion wasn’t doing too well. The water was beginning to go cold and it was actually quite gross but he knows as soon as he left, Tom would do another thorough scrub because he was a clean freak and hated germs. Hence why Hadrian had forced him to wash at four in the morning. “I’ll be here for Christmas but you have to leave it as a surprise alright? I have a gift I have to give you all.”

“You’re enough,” Tom stupidly mutters.

“You’ll say otherwise when you see it.” Tom makes a non-committal noise and then Hadrian pushed and the half asleep man hazily stepped out of the bath and Hadrian spelled him dry and wrapped him in a towel anyway and he had to do the same so when Tom turned his back, Hadrian ditched the wet pants, grabbed a towel and scrubbed himself down because he had also needed a wash but hadn’t exactly gotten one. Which was fine, it wasn’t at the top of his priorities anyway.

Then he ushered them both into the closet where he scrounged for under things but it wasn’t hard to find. Tom always had it in the draw second up from the floor on the left side of a walk in closet. So they both got changed and Hadrian’s gaze caught on one of his original dress shirts. Dark emerald and tailored to his body, it wouldn’t have fitted Tom’s wider shoulders, wider waist or longer arms.

So he pulls that off and gets changed into it just for the sake of it. In fact, a lot of his gear is in the closet and he wonders if Tom just couldn’t bear to feel like the only one living in the room.

He dries off his hair with a spell and finds a suitable pair of pants and black dragon hide boots- from Ekkathion’s shed. Tom got them made as a birthday present.

Eventually he tucks an exhausted Riddle back into bed and said man wraps an arm around his waist while he sits on the edge, a notepad in hand, writing down strict instructions for the morning regarding a diet and routine to both Kreacher and Riddle.

It was an extra but something he felt obliged to do.

“You’ll follow these instructions right?”

“Religiously,” Tom murmured, head tucked firmly into his stomach. Hadrian made a disbelieving sound and then put it on the bedside table. He made another potion and set it on the side of the table and when it was time to go- found himself fully reluctant but his will stolen by the fact he had a manor to prepare, a dragon-human teenager to help and a new world to sort out.

His mind was focused and slightly desperate with the shrinking time before Christmas- but for once he wasn’t worried about Mancer. Not yet.

In fact, Neville would be stupid to attack while Hadrian was busy defending Riddle. He would attack and he would attack like a cornered fucking animal.

“Please don’t go,” Tom begs suddenly, grip tightening. Hadrian ran a hand through his hair.

“I have to,” he whispers. “But I’ll be back in two days, just two. Sleep for two more nights and rest and recover- and you’ll see me then.”

Tom reluctantly lets go and stares at him, blood red eyes looking like they wanted to scream, shout, stop him at any cost and yet couldn’t find a real reason.

Hadrian glances at the blood pact around his throat and though he loathe to part with it, slipped it over Toms head instead, letting it settle around a bare chest.

Tom grabbed it, staring at it.

“You promise?”

“I promise. And I don’t break my promises.” He stands up and walks towards the window and like he used to when Tom was still in the orphanage, he sits on the windowsill with the moon beginning to sink over the horizon and the cold wind blowing in- green eyes watching the love of his life finally wake up and see him-

Before ruby’s blink and the windowsill is empty, like a dream that had disappeared.

But the note and the vial remained on the side, the blood pact remained in his hand, the bedding was changed and he was awake.

There was new magic pouring through his body and he closed his eyes.

Christmas couldn’t have been further away.

Chapter Text

Ekkathion wandered around the Black Manor beside Hadrian, looking at the dirt and everything with Death still in the crook of his arm, a puffed up black bird. His fathers room was in the worst condition and nothing had changed in Hadrian’s room. The windows had been closed, dust had settled but all his belongings were still there.

{So what now?}

“Orion will probably come back to collect you,” Hadrian responds. “He waited a night but he’ll likely come back to make sure you left.”

{But I didn’t.} Hadrian nods slowly.

“I know. But it was rather foolish of him to just leave you here and he’d have gotten a berating from everyone.” Ekkathion nods slowly and glances around.

{What do wizards do?}

“Hang out with friends, learn magic…” he glances at Ekkathion who was looking at his hands. “Learn to be yourself.”

{So I can change the style?} Ekkathion asks, looking at the formal black attire.

“Sure.” Ekkathion jerks his head.

{My friends?} He showed Ekkathion Theodore, Draco, Blaise and Hayes. Then as an afterthought he adds Viktor. The dragon grumbles something.

“If it’s of any consolation, they all have animal forms so you’ll be allowed to shift in front of them. I think that would be relieving for you.” Ekkathion shrugs, looking around the manor.

{Who are you going to call to get this place up and running?}

“Once Orion comes and you both go, I’ll call Griffin, Edwin, Lidia, Freda and maybe Isaiah.” The dragon huffed smoke out of his mouth in mild irritation and he smirks. It was fair to say Ekkathion was the keenest on Isaiah but that was mostly because Isaiah was shit scared of him and would lash out- even on accident. “Oh your in human form Ekk, calm down.”

The dragon rolls slitted green eyes and glances around.

{How did you act in front of everyone?}

“I mean… strangely, I suppose. From an outside perspective I would have acted very strangely indeed…” Hadrian cocks his head and then laughed. “I wonder how on earth they even put up with it.”

He felt a fluctuation in the wards, stole Death from his Ekkathion and nodded to the suddenly nervous looking dragon. Hadrian vanished to the nearest shadow, concealing all his magic and watched.

“Hey kid,” Orion calls out and Ekkathion has to quickly figure out how to use his voice.

“He-re,” his voice cracks and the dragon coughed into a fist, shaking his body. “I’m over here.”

Orion slowly walked over from the main hallway, glancing around at first and then peered curiously at Ekkathion.

“You never came back.”

“I got distracted,” Ekkathion muttered, not making eye contact with Orion. Thankfully the dragon had taken initiative to return to normal. Hadrian leant back against the wall and watched.

“Did you look around?”

“I did. It’s neglected,” Ekkathion says bluntly, but took another glance at the expansive hallways. “Cool but empty.” Orion actually winced but Ekkathion didn’t notice. Hadrian wanted to sigh because his brother was so damned sensitive without him. Jeez… he could barely imagine how Christmas was going to go. Lots of screaming, he thinks. Lots of it. A lot of curses as well, just the normal voice kind.

“Well, we haven’t lived in it for a long while.”

“Seems kind of pointless,” Ekkathion muttered, voicing his real opinions. Orion glances at him.

“Why?”

“Well you don’t abandon a school just because one kid died do you?” Ekkathion cocks his head at Orion and Hadrian wanted to warn him not to use such bold language. Orion’s lip twitched into a frown.

“He wasn’t just a kid.” Ekkathion shrugged and glanced down the hall again.

“I don’t understand why you made him the centre of attention for so long if he didn’t like it.”

“How do you know that?” Orion pries, staring Ekkathion down. “You’ve never met him.” Ekkathion’s eyes gleamed.

{Careful,} Hadrian warned. Ekkathion glanced his way before looking away and shrugging.

“Educated guess.”

“Educated.”

“I would say so, yes.” Hadrian quietly banged his head on the wall, not believing how risky Ekkathion was being. He supposes he’s never had to talk directly to someone though. Hadrian had always moderated.

Orion just sighed, tilted his head back and offered a hand. “Would you like to come back? Mr Lupin is under the impression I killed you.” Ekkathion blinked and the nodded slowly.

“Okay.” Ekkathion took Orion’s hand and he knew, he just knew, the dragon was going to throw up on the other side. He’d never apparated before.

So he winces at his mistake but now the Black Manor was empty and he stood there, a ghost in ancient halls. He walks to the living room where he sets Death down on a cushion and ensured the bird had enough magic to heal.

He jumps as a crack whips through the air and he turns around to see Griffin walking towards him.

“Well well well,” Griffin says with a smirk. “Back to Black are we?” Hadrian rolled his eyes, walking towards him too.

“Back to Black,” he agrees with a hint of amusement. “Regardless, we have to get this place fixed up and I… need to do some emergency shopping.” Griffin shrugs.

“It’s all going to be wasted. Nothing’s going to beat you coming back.”

“But that’s not the point,” Hadrian reminds him with a slight smile, walking down to the kitchen that hadn’t been updated at all and he’d make that his goal as well. In fact, quite a bit of the house needed updating but he’d keep it all within what it had looked like when he’d lived here. “Will you be wanting to help?”

“Well I’m not going to leave you alone in this cold ass place am I?” Griffin responded, walking beside him and Hadrian looked into those red eyes and felt a kind of relief. He doesn’t think he’s actually ever going to get used to seeing their faces, alive, happy, with him. “Is there something in my teeth?” Griffin picks at his fangs and Hadrian jokingly hexed him and the vampire hissed.

Hadrian laughed before he also yelped and hexed the vampire back before running with actually laughter before sliding out the front door where he was tackled into the snow- face first.

“Stop! It’s cold you wench!” He laughs, twisting around and drowning Griffin in the snow.

“Wench!” The vampire cried out like Hadrian had mentioned a profanity. “I’m no wench you scunner!” Hadrian roared with laughter at the old fashioned swear word and despite crying out tears, he managed,

“Thou must be thy gentleman of four oats then fair wench-” Griffin let out a strangled sound and hexed Hadrian mad.

“Bloody scoundrel! I’ll have you at the gallows if you call me so!” Griffin threatens and Hadrian just threw a snowball at his face and left white powder all over Griffin’s eyes and hair- red eyes turned murderous before the sound of multiple cracks had Griffin hastily standing up and wiping off the snow.

Hadrian pulls himself out of the snow before falling over again and Freda says, “Please tell me I’m not interrupting something?” Hadrian glanced over at Edwin, Lidia, Freda and Isaiah, who looked as if he’d been dragged along after all but seemed dark faced as he stared at Griffin.

“He called me a scoundrel,” Hadrian defends and Griffin points at him,

“He called me a wench and a gentlemen of four oats, I think I’m the victim here.” Freda snorts very unladylike into the back of her hand before coughing.

“Yes, yes it does sound so. Well get up then General come on.” Griffin glances at the man struggling to get out of the half a metre snow and finally offered a hand.

“What kind of man can’t even get out of the snow?” Griffin snarks as they walk forward, Hadrian mutters a spell and Griffin careens into the even deeper snow and sat there for a solid second, staring with snow in his lap. Hadrian gives him a mocking smile and turned to Freda who tapped his face.

“Ah look at that, it’s the real you this time.”

“Eh? And here I was thinking I hid it just fine.” Lidia and Isaiah stared at her and Isaiah glowered at him. “Complicated, don’t ask.” The man sighed.

“Hadrian?”

“Harry, is just fine and went back to the Malfoy Manor with my brother.”

“Riddle?”

“Healed and probably a bit mentally unstable.”

“Probably?”

“I didn’t exactly stick around.” Isaiah opened his mouth again and Lidia whipped him with a spell that he rubbed his leg at.

“Hush hush. Let’s get the house fixed shall we?” Hadrian snapped his fingers,

“A wonderful idea. Oh and Isaiah,” he gives the man a meaningful look and the man nods.

“I’ll go there and update the information. I’ll need to bring in some others.”

“I don’t have complete control over the wards at the moment,” he explains. “So if you do bring them in, bring them there and not here.” Isaiah nods.

“I’ll do that.” The man disappears and Hadrian nods his head to the house.

The rest of them walk in and Griffin just apparates out of the snow after stumbling and sinking. The moment was over as they repair glass, fix damn, mould and leaks. They take out the old kitchen stove as it had been from the eighteen hundreds and was difficult to use and was just unnecessary. So the groups fixed the kitchen, Hadrian fixed his fathers study and redid his own room. All the other rooms had been practically emptied of everything and personal possessions had been taken to another place. Likely so if anybody did break in, there’d be nothing to steal and they’d probably get killed by his father or Orion before they even reached the second floor.

“Where’s the wine cellar?” Freda asks.

“It’s hidden behind those bricks,” Hadrian points at a blank space between the pantry and the cabinetry. “Say Noble and it should open.” Freda rolled her eyes but did so and it led down a staircase into a well lit and dry cellar with lots, lots of wine. As well as some ciders but that was on preference and not really dignity.

“Looks good down here!” She calls out.

“No you can’t live there!” He shouts down.

“That’s a shame… a 1701 commandaria! Now that’s a waste.”

“Oh you can’t drink that one!” He calls down.

“Why not!”

“Because that’s the one I was meant to drink when I married!” Freda becomes quiet before reappearing empty-handed.

“Let me guess there were two bottles,”

“Yeah Walburga tipped some of it down Orion’s shirt on their honeymoon. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Orion angrier than he was then.” He shrugs before Isaiah suddenly popped in, wide eyed and holding a vial of… memories. Hadrian’s face went blank.

“General-”

“Don’t tell me you saw them.” Isaiah shook his head.

“The Pensieve was already out. I didn’t notice until I looked through the boxes for more pins. Hadrian, half of them are open.”

Hadrian sprinted out of there to his study, leaping up the stairs two at a time. There’s only one way Orion could have learnt of the study. Hadrian wasn’t stupid enough to have left many hints. It was the most desperate measure he’d made in case he didn’t come back to life and go into the future but rather further into history. He pries open the board and yeah, it’s empty. Isaiah startled to a halt behind him and Hadrian stared at it.

That box was made up of memories with information he needed to remember or to filter through to review how he’d reacted, to improve. It was all there to make him better, give him a step up- as evidence as well. He had a habit of mixing up information in arguments so it had been another way of working through it.

But the missing documents meant that Orion knew everything now. He knew who was in the organisation, he knew the past operations he knew who had been involved and what Hadrian had been doing. All his studies were there including his studies on time and the past and future effects. There were battle formations and information from grimoires that no one should know.

If Orion had read all of it- which he doubted he had. His brother isn’t that studious but he doesn’t know when Orion had found it.

“What do we do?” Isaiah asks. “If your brother knows…”

“Well even if he does know the only thing he’s acted on,” Hadrian says slowly, “is sending Barty to the underground. But that explains why Barty knew about it. Orion must have seen something and put some things together. Tom doesn’t know so we can assume that my brother has no one in confidence and is keeping it to himself.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Well I can imagine that it would be received poorly by everyone else,” he responds. “I would also say that he wouldn’t share the information without a plan because he knows most of it is outdated or have already been begun, are in progress, finished or failed.” Hadrian stands up slowly, kicking the wood back into place. “It seems I won’t get a choice in who knows and who doesn’t.” He plucks the vial from Isaiah but unlike everyone else, he doesn’t need to have a pensieve to know what the memory is, just to see it. This one, already empty, was from when he met Griffin.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Orion knows about Griffin.” Actually, Hadrian should have been swearing a lot more than he was. But there was less, he needed to explain and there was someone who would maybe understand what he’d done more but… “Who’s in there?”

“Lillibet. She’s filling in the gaps in numbers and listing the people. She’s basically memorised everyone and the administrative roll.”

He nods slowly before apparating quickly and Lilibet jumped.

“General,” she says with a short smile, glancing around. “I’ve tried updating everything I can and your information isn’t totally off. But I’ve reorganised the people that remain, documented which ones were successful and which ones weren’t and I gave Brandon the ones that had to be modified. He took them to the Archives in the Underground.” With one look he could already see someone else beside Lilibet and Isaiah had been in here.

“Good work, I haven’t been in here in years so it’ll be messy.” He walked over to the map and noticed there was a new front, more jagged than before. But that was what he knew of. Mancer was fighting hard and had picked up on their strategy.

Hadrian would need to copy someone else and it would likely operate around Genghis Khan if possible and his manoeuvre strategies, of course adapted to manoeuvre through cities.

He glances at the new files Lilibet had brought in and knew he’d have to go through them all.

“Bin anything you think isn’t of value any more or put it in the historical records,” he motioned to a giant crate of files. “Anything that seems questionable ask me or Isaiah.” Lilibet nods and Isaiah cracked in.

“You are back,” an old voice muttered and Isaiah and Lilibet both jumped.

“Salazar,” Hadrian responded, walking back towards the man who was peering out of his portrait and followed Hadrian with a wiry gaze. “I should have moved you to the main house.”

“I think I fulfilled my role in here,” Salazar agrees. “However, you brother was in here.”

“How much did he see?”

“He brought the ring in and watched what was on it.” Hadrian’s stomach flipped and he rubs at the empty space on his finger. “But he’s seen quite a few missions you went on and a few arguments. He stopped coming after he saw you die.”

Which would make sense. It would take him a while to get over. He rubs his finger more viciously.

“It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back,” he responds quietly. Isaiah sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“I forgot that portrait existed.”

“Is that Salazar Slytherin?” Lilibet asks.

“It is,” he responds. “A good friend of mine, actually.”

“That’s just sad,” the woman says simply. Hadrian ignores that, walking towards the bottles that had been opened. The memories had been returned but the seals had broken. Yeah, only about a quarter considering he had another box. Which was fine hopefully he hadn’t gone through any of the more private ones.

He scours the vials, running a hand along them. No, nothing truly horrifying. It would seem the one he’d need to tread most carefully around is Griffin’s one.

Orion hasn’t met him personally but once he does…

Hadrian leant on the crate edge.

He could plan wars and create strategies and formulate maneuver’s but he couldn’t navigate his own family. Perhaps because it was so personal and the last thing he wanted was to lose their support. His family was fragile, they do break and they would if he did something wrong. He’d become their weakness and their strength at the same time and that was dangerous.

“Anything important?”

“Not to the cause,” he responds quietly. “That’s this box.” He moves the one with the memories to the one underneath that was latched and warded. He opened it to reveal bottles that were different colours so he could categorise them. Purples were the ones that Mancer had won or caused to fail, green’s were the ones who had one or caused issues. Red’s were vampire related ones, blues were family related matters and the white ones were purely informative.

He taps on the box, wondering what to do with them all.

Then he just closes the lids.

“I’ll deal with those later…” He slowly manages to tear himself away from the problem that was his brother. But it did make sense as to why he was acting so strangely and far away. He was living in his mind and Hadrian’s past and the only thing that would fix it is Hadrian himself being there.

He leaves the study quietly, trusting that Isaiah and Lilibet wouldn’t take advantage of it and walked straight to Griffin who was looking at the curtains that needed replacing.

Hadrian needn’t say anything as the vampire glanced over and felt Hadrian’s magic.

“What went wrong?”

“Orion knows.”

“Specifically?”

“You.” Griffin’s face freezes.

“What about me.”

“He knows how we met and then he figured out that Edwin is your son and if Edwin is in the Underground then you must have been there, and sent Barty.”

“Anything else about me?”

“None of the more detailed ones that have anything to do with us in it had their seals broken. But he knows how I died.”

“Did you say something…”

“No it’s what I thought.”

“But in a pensieve you can’t hear the thoughts of the person.”

“Orion temporarily, becomes me and hears my thoughts. That was how I made the memories so that I could remember what I thought at the time and the ideas I came up with,” he explains, staring at the curtains.

“I this because your memories muddled?”

“Yes, there’s just… too much for me to remember sometimes so I solved it with those.”

“Anything with any of your old memories?”

“My death, Neville refers to me by my first name, he mentioned my reincarnation ability- Griffin I don’t know how much he’s realised. If any of them- if any of them, realise that I’m from a different time, that when we were children I was already grown I don’t know what they’ll do. They’ll doubt me and what we had and I can’t deal with that.” He runs a hand through his hair in worry. “If Orion realises- if Orion realises that I’m someone else and not the brother he thought he had- he’ll think I’m an imposter. None of them would have realised that that was just… me. But then things would start to make sense and then-” Hadrian froze. “If he knows,” he said quietly, “I don’t know what he’s going to do to Ekkathion if he thinks he’s me.”

“Ekkathion? I thought…” He waves it away. He hadn’t told them yet. Leave it as a secret. He bites his nails as anxiety crushes him.

“I meant Harry,” he muttered, staring at the floor. Griffin slowly walked towards him and his boots almost touched Hadrian’s.

“You have to stop carrying all these secrets. If you’re carrying secrets again it’s just going to get hard.” He glances up at him and Griffin raises a brow. “I’m a vampire I should know that.”

He shakes his head and looks away.

“Hades.”

“No. I have to have some secrets and… I’ve finally figured out why it was such a big gap between the reincarnating time this time.” Griffin sighs but accepts the diversion.

“Why is that.”

“To kill him I used Death’s direct power,” he glanced out the window to the forest. “It destroyed me but it must have tired him out, directly intervening in world affairs. I suppose the only reason he could is because Neville is technically outside the land of the living. The recoil would have been great so he must have done it best he could.”

“I see. I don’t see him.” Hadrian points over to the couch where the bird had fallen into the crack and just looked like a black blob. A black blob that opened a red eye slightly.

{Master,} the bird called out blindly. Hadrian walked over, his moral worries easing slightly as he picked up the crow who settled into the crook of his elbow again and glanced up at him.

{Hello Death,} he whispers, stroking his feathers. The bird clacks his beak, content.

{You’re a stupid Master, I need a refund,} the bird announces.

{Really?}

{Yes.}

{You are the one who put me in my old body.} The raven stared at him with unimpressed red eyes.

{A mistake on my behalf,} the bird sniffed, disdained entirely. {Your fault for being in it for so long. You even made fail safes for them and then didn’t use it!} The bird pecked at his fingers and Hadrian sighed, reminded as to why he hadn’t missed the thing. He threw the bird to Griffin who grimaced but held Death, even if he looked like he wanted to hurl Death through a window. Death turned his gaze onto the Vampire before settling down in silence, likely enjoying Griffin’s response.

“So what do we do,” Griffin asks.

“Well the fact remains he is my brother and I do miss him. If Harry was in trouble, he’d shift and fly to us or kill Orion. The second thing is Riddle is likely to intervene and thirdly my father would also punish him. So for now… we’re safe and I’ll continue as planned. I made promises I have to keep.”

Griffin nods in agreement. “And if he does anything…” Griffin bares his fangs. “I can subdue him.”

“I don’t think it’ll be needed… I hope.” He glances at the curtains. “Black and black?”

“A black background and then a slightly lighter black pattern. Or perhaps it’ll be matte so that you can see it.”

The two of them eventually set out for Diagon with a list from Freda, Lidia and Edwin and he maintains his appearance of Moriarty as he wanders. Griffin and Hadrian must have made quiet an appearance because people stare. Maybe it was because a wizard walked beside a vampire and perhaps it was because they recognised him. Who knows.

But he enjoyed the time with Griffin while he had it and that was enough.

Because if there’s one thing he ironically never seemed to have, was time. And now he had to make up for all of it that they’d lost.

Chapter Text

A man stood staring out a window, his broad back covered in shadows and he ran a finger over the cold windowsill that had been left open since a man he’d loved had departed it. He was better than he had been but he was not who he had been. Some scars don’t heal even if everything else did and so Tom Marvolo Riddle stood quietly by the window, a phantom feeling in his fingers. There was still some magic attached to the window, green and dark and it responded like traces do. It would rise like disturbed dust, settle and could be moved places.

He hadn’t let anyone disturb him for two days and the sun had yet to rise on Christmas morning. The sky was cloudy and everything was settled with ice and white powder. He couldn’t even see the usually pruned brushes underneath all the snow and the fountain had completely frozen over, some of the water still in the form it had been when it was frozen.

Nagini was guarding the doorway and had been diligently checking on him but he hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t left and he’d had Kreacher bring him food while staring at the vial in his hands. He’d showered and improved his condition but couldn’t be bothered to do much beyond that.

He closes his eyes and remembered that face that he’d been afraid wouldn’t ever come back. Was it a dream? Had it just been the Potter boy after all and he was waiting like a fool for a hope that was fleeting like the spring rains?

It had felt real and his voice had been real- Tom had forced himself to pull himself together just to be present and listen, to interact. It had been such an effort but even for a moment, everything had felt normal.

If it was a kindness on the Potter boy’s behalf to transform into Hadrian’s body and help Tom, maybe he should be thankful just for that as well. But the fact that that was a possibility at all left him angry and helpless. But it was difficult for the boy to also replicate Hadrian’s hand writing.

Tom glances over at the note that he had been following religiously as he’d promised. Now he was waiting for a shadowy figure to return through the window. But it wasn’t day yet so he supposes he should wait. The reality was there was a whole twenty four hours to get through and Hadrian could show up at any time throughout the day.

So Tom can’t really expect that he’d appear through the window.

In fact, he can’t really expect anything.

That even if Hadrian would keep him promise and return today, that he’d be whole. That everything would be like it used to be, that Hadrian wouldn’t be affected by what had happened. And there would be questions from the others. Usually Tom would be one to get answers- but he’s beyond questions now. He doesn’t care.

He wants the truth and his truth was that he needed Hadrian back. He wanted to go home but that hadn’t been his decision to make. Hadrian hadn’t left a will and Tom shouldn’t have expected to be allowed to own the property or to even remain there. He’d been a guest in his own home really but for a while it had been his home. They’d had family and companions and they’d lived in Grimmauld Place during the summer when it was too hot in the manor or simply when they wanted to drink and game. They’d had the manor and that had been… something that when Tom was still in the orphanage, could never have dreamed of. Younger him had thought he’d be alone and he was unlike everyone else. That he would forever be separated by society and society by him.

Until Hadrian had come along and saved him. In his own stupid way by always being smarter by always being that one damned step ahead. If Tom had kept up, if he’d taken more than one step after Hogwarts, if he’d continued to run to catch up to Hadrian, the worst fate of all wouldn’t have befallen the love of his life. He still remembers Hadrian being wary in the early years of Hogwarts, skirting around him until he then fell to Tom’s scheme’s and began competing with him before the two of them realised neither could entirely outdo the other in every area and they allied. Alliance turned to friend ship and in the end of fifth year they both realised maybe it was something more. Until it was and Tom wouldn’t change it for anything.

He leant against the window with a sigh, gazing down at the floor at hares coming out of burrows as the sun slowly rose. Christmas had arrived. He doesn’t really understand how a pure blooded wizard had been so attached to the idea of Christmas and simultaneously Yule but somehow they had converged into one. They celebrated Christmas in both a Yule fashion to satiate both parties. Other houses found this odd in itself but then again, some other houses had grown fond of the idea upon learning that the Noble House of Black had strayed from classical tradition.

He doesn’t mind. As a muggle born he’d always envied those who got to celebrate Christmas and he does wonder if Hadrian celebrated it just for him sometimes. But the wizard seemed to enjoy it equally as much as Tom did. And since they’d both liked it so much, he should enjoy today. Even if it hurt a bit, even if he was waiting for someone whose journey back from death was impossible.

He slowly reaches out and pulls the window shut. His hands were numb and his ears red from the cold. He lights the fire and slowly walks to the closet.

What would Hadrian want him to wear?

Well, he always liked Tom’s suits but that felt too formal. It’s not like you can easily hug someone in a suit.

Like he said, he wasn’t who he was.

Perhaps age had gentled his formalities or perhaps his illness had.

His eyes catch on a box and he reached down to open it and it revealed a crimson red, twist knitted sweater. One of high quality and a gift from Hadrian one Christmas. He’d been surprised by it because a sweater didn’t seem to be Hadrian’s type of thing but he’d been oddly attached to the custom. So that year everyone had gotten a sweater in their own individual colours. He pulls it out and it was brand new. He regretted it.

He’d never grabbed it out of the box or worn it and he regretted it. He hadn’t been grateful and he should have been. But since when had he been grateful?

He unbuttons his black shirt and gazes down at his ruined body with a gritted jaw. Would Hadrian even want this? He runs a hand over his ribs, anger growing in his chest. He’d been so incredibly stupid to attempt such a dangerous spell with no supervision and no backup with an unmastered understanding of the spell. It was his fault and his flaw and he supposes his consequence to bear.

But he focuses on the sweater. It’s a soft material but he supposes it would still be unwise to just wear that. So he pulls on a compression shirt to try and increase blood flow in his body that had been a gift from Thaddeus when they’d begun seriously retaliating against Mactator. Everyone had been hard at work and healing needed to be optimised so yes, they had gone towards muggle means at Tom’s behest.

He pulls the sweater on overtop and decided the pants needed to change. So he does. He reached for black slacks and tucked the shirt in before pulling it out slightly. He ties the blood pact around his throat and lets it drop on his chest. He stares at it before also retrieving the ring that Orion had at some point left on his bedside table as it wasn’t Orion’s. It was one of the few possessions that was truly Tom’s as the Gaunt family ring.

So he slipped it onto the blood vial chain and retrieved his wand from the draws. Aspen wood and dragon heart strings. Hadrian had broken his previous wand and tom had been initially angry until Hadrian had gifted him a better one and one that he couldn’t imagine not having.

He places the holster on his thigh and slips the wand inside.

The house is quiet as he leaves the doors of his room. The party would be later but would consist of only family and close friends to the Malfoys. Which meant the House of Black, House of Nott, House of Lestrange and House of Avery would come. Of course House of Slytherin was invited but there was only Tom there now. House of Potter had once upon a time been invited but now there was only one boy to call upon to join and even then his social skills… likely needed work. But there was a seemingly great mind there.

The Zabini boy would be invited but not his mother. She’d be likely at her latest boyfriends party and leave her son to represent her. Tom would have to bear looking upon Regulus who looked uncannily like his uncle in a more formal fashion. Because no matter how cold Hadrian tried to be or how angry he got, he was always a joker and a kind soul at heart amongst those he was close with. And reckless and a bit crazy but that was okay. He would also have to deal with a heap of animagi who would be running ballistically around a bonfire while he sat back, completely normal and drank fire whiskey until he was drunk. He would also have to deal with Potter but hopefully he can ignore him.

He walked down the hall, aiming to walk by the portrait- only to discover it wasn’t there. He blinked at it and saw burn marks on the wall. Had someone burnt the portrait?

Well… he can’t say he was surprised.

He didn’t have it in him to care that much when he’d be visited by a more real version of it. He was partly glad the pretender had disappeared even if he’d been thankful to it for keeping him semi sane.

He slips inside the kitchen where Kreacher appeared.

“Can Kreacher get Master Riddle anything?”

“A cup of tea Kreacher, thank you.” The elf quickly fixed something up while he sat in the kitchen, waiting for everyone to wake up. He hadn’t brushed his hair- and is reminded when Kreacher glances at his head but doesn’t say anything. “Do I look old?” He asks Kreacher suddenly. The house elf pauses before saying in a particularly firm voice,

“Master Riddle looks just as he did in twenty.” Tom nods as Kreacher puts the tea next to him with a biscuit. “Master Riddle should ensure he eats everything the elves cook for him.” He’s thankful the house elf doesn’t say anything directly about his weight but he still has the urge to kick him. So he manages a small nod and Kreacher moved away. Kreacher had diligently taken care of him like Hadrian had ordered him to.

Even if the man himself wasn’t here, sometimes, it did feel like he was anyway.

So for that, he refrained from kicking the house elf.

He didn’t have magic to spare to hex him anyway. Besides, he doesn’t think the first thing Hadrian needed to learn when he returned was that Riddle had hexed his house elf.

He drinks his tea and enjoys the fact he was able to actually drink it on his own. His hands don’t shake and he’s plenty capable of eating on his own. To an extent, he’s all caught up on semi-recent activities through Orion but since he’d regained control, he hadn’t invited any of them in. Some of them would suspect he’s certain.

What he doesn’t expect, is for Arcturus to walk in first- also wearing Hadrian’s sweater that he’d gifted to him. A dark navy cable knit sweater that suited the old man. Who walked in and paused. His eyes wandering Tom for a minute.

Tom doesn’t expect him to say something, really. It’s quiet in the kitchen as it’s too early for most of the Malfoy’s house elves to be up and cooking without making a ruckus for the rest of the house.

“It’s good to have you back,” Arcturus says at last. “It’s grown quite rigid without you.” Tom inclines his head slightly.

“I can’t say I’m too surprised,” he rasps. His voice will get there with more use throughout the day. Arcturus nodded. He doesn’t ask how or why but he does squeeze Tom on the shoulder before asking Kreacher for a coffee. It’s enough and Tom preferred it that way, as Arcturus went about his day like nothing had changed, if not seeming more relaxed than when he’d entered. He sat at the table with the Daily Prophet, sipped on coffee like any old man and Tom felt calm.

The chaos would begin when Abraxas got up. Or even Aiden.

No one else wakes up for an hour or two and Tom picked up a book that Kreacher had chosen at random. Robin Hood. It must have been one of the kids books but the themes were there he supposes so he didn’t not enjoy it.

He drank another cup of tea and had a few more biscuits because he was hungry but knew he should wait for breakfast with everyone.

“Today feels different,” Arcturus hums quietly. Tom mentally marks the page he’s on.

“I hope so. I’m waiting for someone.”

“Curious, so am I.” Tom glances at Arcturus, the two make meaningful eye contact. Neither of them have to say anything. But Arcturus had caught an eyeful of the blood pact and nodded calmly, smiling slightly underneath his beard and refocused on the daily prophet.

Tom should be grateful that when it strikes six thirty, that it’s Thaddeus that arrived next.

The man isn’t in the sweater he was given but in all fairness, Thaddeus had worn it a lot normally and had probably worn it out. Instead he wore the compression shirt that Riddle had worn with black sweatpants and slippers.

Knowing Thaddeus, he’d probably gotten up this early every morning and only ever had Arcturus see him like this before he got changed properly and came down last with everyone else.

The black haired man freezes, staring at Riddle. His hair was mussed and slightly curly. His dark gaze pinned Riddle down and initially he had seemed a bit weary but that had gone in a moment as Thaddeus looked at him- scanning him up and down and reaching out with magic. He’d recently shaved and looked just as young as Riddle did. Of course he’d seen Thaddeus through the eyes of Nagini but it wasn’t the same and of course Thaddeus had come to visit him, diligently to try and come up with solutions but had eventually grown discouraged.

“Riddle?” Thaddeus says in surprise.

“That is my last name.” The man let’s out a long sigh, trudging for the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of juice.

“Orion destroyed the portrait.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” he tells him. “I saw it was gone from the wall.” Thaddeus filled up a glass and glanced at him.

“I expected you to be angrier.”

“Maybe I would have been. But I’m not now.” Thaddeus worked it over in his head, failed and then sighed, sculling apple juice and then leant against the island.

“Aiden and Orion are on their way Thaddeus,” Arcturus warns him, not looking up from his papers. Thaddeus nods and disappeared to go and get changed, confirming his theory. Interesting that they should be coming together though.

Tom felt them when they were around the corner and just before they stepped through the doors, both froze. A pair of brown eyes and a pair of blue blown wide in an instance. One looked tired, the other one looked like he needed to be pinched to be shown it was real.

Avery, swore, swore again and walked right back out. Which was expected. He’d probably cry, fix himself up and come back in. He was incredibly soft hearted that one.

Orion’s face seemed to have aged, which was impossible. His blue eyes were darkened and slightly cloudy and his black hair was a mess. He was wearing his royal blue sweater in the same knit Tom’s was. The man opened and closed his mouth before shaking his head and then he pinched his nose and crouched. Tom knew what was coming before it came and got up to crouch in front of him as his shoulders shuddered with his silent crying.

He was his brother as well really. Tom was fond of Orion but less fond than that of his brother.

“You dick,” the man said with tears leaking out of his eyes. “If you ever leave me alone to deal with this shit again I’m chaining you to the front gates.” Tom doesn’t have it in him to laugh. Not really. Because it wasn’t funny and he felt guilty. He really had run away and left them to deal with something difficult and harsh and impossible. Orion didn’t have the social skills Tom and Hadrian had to soothe and command the rest of the Triarii. He’s certain it would have been a struggle.

“I’m sorry,” is all Tom can say. Orion eventually nodded and because Tom knows he won’t ask because it’s not masculine and it’s not normal- Tom hugs him. He’s usually averse to touch but he also understands that this isn’t easy and he needs to take a step forward just like the others do. So even if it’s uncomfortable, it’s necessary to fix the problem.

Eventually Orion got up and glanced uneasily at Tom and opened and closed his mouth, “Riddle I… burned the portrait.”

Orion didn’t have to confess it. But it meant something to Tom that he did. There was still honesty between their friendship. So he shrugs.

“I know. So does Arcturus and neither of us mind.”

“But it’s Hadrian’s-”

“Some of us didn’t like the portrait just for that reason,” Arcturus responds, finally looking up to look at his son and his deceased sons lover. “I think it’s good to move on from what’s in the past and look for what’s in the future. Return from the past and continue into the future.”

“That seems foreboding,” Tom says humour fully. Orion rolls his eyes and sighs.

Avery eventually jerks back in, brown eyes red and held up a thumb. “I’m fine.” Except he’s not and Tom finally let’s out a crack of a smile.

“You idiot,” he manages to get out in a semi-normal tone and Avery bites his lip, his eyes welling with tears.

Then he grabs Tom’s sweater and shakes him. “You bastard what took you so long! We were- we were waiting,” Avery’s voice cracks and Orion puts a hand on his shoulder. Tom scans his gaze.

“I’m back now.” Avery lets out a shuddery sigh and then nods.

“Yeah, you are. You better stay that way,” Avery warns him before sighing and his shoulders drooped. “I need a coffee.” Kreacher takes that as a command and deposits one on the table. “Kreacher you are the best.” Avery walks over, Orion walks over and joins him.

“Thank you Master Avery,” Kreacher says simply before popping away. Thaddeus eventually returned and made a joke about Tom’s return, fake sobbing against the wall and that earned him a punch from Avery and a long sigh from Tom.

Eventually Regulus appeared, froze and then bowed lowly.

“Lord Riddle.”

“Just call me Tom,” he responds tiredly. Regulus straightened and nodded in acceptance before grabbing himself some food. The ladies of the families seemed to have taken up a private meeting of sorts. Narcissa and Deanna would be hanging out together as wives of Lucius and Regulus. Lysistrata was likely still fooling around with some wizard out in Hungary and wouldn’t return to Abraxas’s side willingly. There was Sirius and Remus which was an interesting couple to begin with. Fleamont and Euphemia should have been at the table but they weren’t and he can tell their absence is still noted, perhaps less so now that he’s here to fill the gap. James Potter and Lily Evans should also have been at the table but alas, they were not. Aiden’s wife had disappeared under mysterious circumstance not that he’d bothered looking for her after his parents had died and Thaddeus… poor soul, had actually enjoyed the company of his wife. Nadia. But had died giving birth to Theodore.

It was interesting how life turned out really and how wives and husbands had been split apart by death, disease and dishonour.

He clasps his hands together and Abraxas at last, got his ass out of bed and down to everyone else, his hair done- as expected and his clothes neat as they ought to be. The man glossed over Tom for a minute as he walked in and then went to reach for the prophet Arcturus had abandoned before locking eyes with Tom.

A blink and then the man shouted and jerked, “Bloody merlin! What in merlins saggy balls are you doing out here! Wait a goddamn minute-” The man spluttered in a rather unlord-like fashion and Tom waited for him to regain a breath with an expectant brow before he went beetroot red. “By Merlin you’re a live!” The man eventually said with glee.

“Yes hello to you too Abraxas.”

“Why? Not happy to see me?”

“Glad to see your hair was a priority still.” The group laughed and Abraxas flipped blonde hair over his shoulder with a shrug.

“Just jealous you can’t grow it out long Riddle? If you have trouble y’know I have plenty of ways…” Riddle rolled his eyes.

“I prefer short and easy to upkeep but thanks for the offer.” The elves had gotten up now that all the Lords were up and they were ushered out. The staircases had been decorated in decorative garlands and candles lit every surface. There were small pine trees with decorations sprawling the hallways and Tom has to smile slightly at it.

“Looking good Abraxas,” Orion says, should to should with Tom.

“You can thank Narcissa, she took in my request and made it all.”

“What a diligent young lady,” Arcturus responds as he walks down the hall, admiring the new decoration.

“Who is on the list?” Tom asks Abraxas.

“The boys are all attending including Mr Potter. But it’s mostly just close family this year.”

“Mostly?”

“Blaise and Potter are both here as well as Mr Lupin and Barty.” Tom inclines his head and the group all moved to the main lounge where a long table was set up and a large tree that almost touched the roof stood in the corner, highly decorated in reds and greens and even some blues. What a touching thing to notice.

It was likely the others wouldn’t join them for breakfast as it was a time to enjoy family and really the Lords were the only family each other had.

Regulus went off to hang with his son, brother and wife and it was likely that Lucius and Narcissa were having Christmas morning with Draco.

“How did you wake up?” Abraxas asks. “If you don’t mind me asking. Did Potter visit?”

“No…” Tom says slowly, looking up at the tree. “It wasn’t Potter who visited I don’t think.”

“Not Potter?” Orion treads carefully, remembering, no doubt, that Tom had told him that it was Potter who had found a way to save him. Tom glances at him out the corner of his eye, before picking up the blood pact- that he did admit he had hidden underneath his shirt out of habit. Orion’s eyes blew wide.

“Where did you find it?” He wanted to tell them that he’d seen Hadrian but if he was wrong he’d break their hearts and he didn’t want that either. But he was already giving them hope and for that he wants to kick something.

“It was around my neck when I woke up.” Arcturus glances at Tom. “As well as strict instructions as to what I was to do. In his handwriting.” He pulls out the letter and hands it to Orion. The others peer in at it, running an eye over it.

“It really is his handwriting,” Thaddeus murmurs.

“You were right then,” Orion says quietly. “He’s back.”

“I don’t know,” Tom says pointedly, taking it back and looking at it before shoving it into his pocket. “But I do know that the blood pact has been missing for thirty years and now it’s back where it belongs.” Thaddeus leaned in and sniffed it.

“I smell blood.”

“Wow, how intelligient,” Abraxas says with a roll of his eyes. Thaddeus kicked him and the man glared.

“Vampire, blood. It’s been with a vampire.” Orion’s gaze darkened before looking away and Tom knows he knows something but like he won’t reveal he’s seen Hadrian, Orion is likely not saying anything because it would hurt. So he won’t force him and hopefully he won’t be forced to reveal anything any time soon. Thaddeus glanced at Orion. “Can we assume Edwin’s father?”

“That’s what I was thinking but… I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“No. I’m thinking more along the lines of Dracula.” Tom winced.

“I don’t really want to think that Dracula may have crept in somehow.” Thaddeus levelled Tom with a disbelieving look.

“I’m pretty certain the vampire wouldn’t have gotten past the wards unless Hadrian brought him in before which is highly unlikely. Count de Ville is dangerous and unpredictable. It’s not something Hadrian would have risked.”

“No,” Orion agreed slowly. “The Count must have just been holding on to it in the meantime.”

“Related to the underground?”

“Probably.”

“It’s Christmas,” Tom says at last. “We can think about these things later.” Or we can find the answers right from the source if he shows up after all and when the time was right.

“On a side note, Potter was strange when I picked him up from the manor.”

“He stayed overnight?” Abraxas asked in surprise.

“It would seem so. He appeared disorientated. I didn’t mention it before but I thought you should all know anyway.” Disorientated…

Actually, now that Orion was mentioning it, he could feel everyone else, albeit faintly, but he couldn’t feel Potter. Not like he could before. It wasn’t overwhelming, in fact it was somewhat subtle. Quiet, subdued. Still green but different…

His suspicion grows but he has nothing to prove it and patience might solve everything later, so he just has to wait and confide in the fact that there had been a promise made and Hadrian didn’t break promises.

“Breakfast Masters?”

“Yes please Kreacher,” Orion confirms and the group takes it to the couches, eating on the coffee table and talking about normal things. Complaining about the ministry, other House alliances, Delecour drama, the Triwizard Tournament and thus forth.

It made Tom realise how normal life could be when it wanted to be and how he’d missed it. Always being concerned with living… it was new an it was somewhat delightful. Even if he was still slightly distracted and glancing at the doors, waiting for a familiar figure to waltz in and if he fiddled with the ring more than usual, nobody made notice of it.

But Tom had been forced to wait for thirty years so he’d be patient and wait a few more hours if that was what it took.

Chapter Text

The man sat in the back of the room on a comfortable chair and watched his companions unwrapping their own presents now that the kids had disappeared to their own rooms to no doubt interrogate the Potter boy to discover why he was acting so strangely but he hadn’t ruined the day, in fact, he’d made it more tolerable.

Aiden and Orion had valiantly announced that they would go and get some more drinks which usually meant they would go to the cellar and nobody else should go unless they were willing to beg for an obliviate.

When he’d been waiting and dinner had arrived and he hadn’t walked through those doors, his chest had tightened and his grip on a glass had caused him to near shatter it. If someone had st

olen him from him and he truly was out there- the figure’s expression darkened slightly. Not that anyone but the Old Head of Black noticed, snatching a curious glance before refocusing on everything before him.

He’d never know. If Hadrian was out there and had been taken he’d never know. It had been made startlingly clear how much could be hidden from him. No matter how smart he thought he’d been, how well he could read people, he hadn’t known Hadrian was raising armies.

It wasn’t something small he’d overlooked either- it was something large-

A figure stood behind the chair, looking down at messy black hair, minimally brushed at best and watched his beloved roil in turmoil.

Tentative fingers reached out and brushed through those locks that needed washing again, clearly. The figure on the chair, melted all at once. His thoughts cut off and his worries dissolving all at once.

Only one person would dare to touch him. Only one person would do it so lovingly and openly. He gripped the younger man’s wrist and pulled him around, straight into his lap and buried his head into his neck, taking deep, almost frantic breaths.

“You are late,” he said gutturally, barely controlling himself to not keep his magic from lashing out and frightening everyone in the room who had yet to notice the additional male. He waits for the voice and Tom hears him swallow.

“I think I’m perfectly on time as always,” he whispers to him, warm breath curling around his ear. For him alone. Tom wraps his arms around his waist, breathing in wood, citrus and lily that he had never been able to recreate.

Tom hums, running a hand up and down his back, only absent-mindedly noticing he wasn’t wearing a coat. He was wearing that silken green shirt he’d kept in his closet. Those dragon hide boots and those black pants- everything from his closet.

So Tom knew. He knew he’d been there last night as he’d promised.

Tom longed to look at his face but he was silently terrified at what he’d find. Fully awake and no longer blurring his memory and his real face together, he was scared.

Was it scarred from what Neville had done? Was it angry at him for not being able to avenge him? For doing something so terribly stupid-

Fingers gripped his chin and he looked into green eyes, simmering and burnt low by the fading candlelight. The group was just over there- Hadrian had to have cast a spell. To have Tom to himself before he engaged with the rest of the room. A special, calculated move and Tom hadn’t even felt him enter.

The room was drenched in darkness from the fire and the candles. Someone had put the lights of the chandelier out. No one was seeing those green eyes but him, that looked at him and took him in and Tom had the dark twisted pleasure of seeing possessiveness in that gaze.

He was still wanted.

He finally pulled back, away from those eyes and took in his entire face, his hands on his hip and keeping him firmly in place so that he wouldn’t run- so that Tom could get a good look- and everything took his breath away.

Inky hair that was brushed and put up in a ponytail to keep it out of his face and the smooth, unblemished face that was perfectly calm, a mask of perfection even if the eyes betrayed a darker pleasure in all of this. His face was expectant, waiting and observing his every move, judging his reactions and waiting to say something, to do something. He was wearing those silver and green eyed serpent ear cuffs that he’d given him and his lips were twisted slightly into a smile.

It was a face Tom had never thought he’d see ever again and both of his hands were quick to find themselves on the sides of his face. His skin was cold to the touch- he must have apparated outside and walked through the entire mansion to get to them- to him. His eyes weren’t missing and his face didn’t have violent lacerations across it, everything was in tact and there wasn’t even a scar to remember the event by.

“Tell me you love me,” Tom whispers, his eyes roving the face that had haunted him for decades. Hadrian lowered his head, sitting on Tom’s lap without protest and murmured onto his lips,

“I love you. More than you will ever know.”

Tom kissed him, possessively and not entirely gently either. There was a frantic desperation in his jagged, breathless movements to prove this was real- that it wasn’t a dream- and he needn’t look any further as Hadrian’s magic swamped him. Embracing him in warm, leathery wings that let him feel safe. Safe from anything that came their way.

His magic responded in kind, embracing Hadrian tightly and travelled along his skin with hands of ghosts- Tom needn’t use his own hands to touch him. He could touch him from a distance if he wished and he would feel it all the same but it was better when flesh met flesh even if he still enjoyed the shiver it brought Hadrian-

But it wasn’t the time to go further than that, so Tom didn’t do anything when Hadrian pulled back and flung his legs over one side of the armrest and curled quite contentedly against his chest. They used to do this in private all the time but they hadn’t done it often in front of anyone else but Orion and their close group of friends.

He watched Hadrian who looked up at him, eyes flicking around his face and fingers brushed his face, a fingertip travelling along his jaw and then brushing the planes of his face before curling into Tom’s hair and he can’t help a slight smile as Hadrian pulls his head down for another kiss.

He’s not sure he can even comprehend his own feelings. Relief, most certainly. Protectiveness- possessiveness- perhaps a bit of anger and a bit of desperation. For what, he doesn’t know. Desperation for him to explain himself, desperation for this all to be real, desperation to kill Mancer-

“Stop,” Hadrian whispers and Tom’s thoughts come to a grating halt as he refocuses on green eyes. His voice- by Merlin he’d missed his voice.

Green eyes don’t leave his, commanding his entire attention. “Not tonight. Tonight-” Hadrian lifted Toms hand and pressed lips to the inside of Toms wrist, “you’re with me.”

“I want to kill them all,” he replies honestly, curling his fingers around Hadrian’s chin. “But you have to let me.” Hadrian’s eyes glimmer and Tom tightens his grip at the hesitation. It would be hard if Hadrian didn’t let him but he expected it. He’d never wanted any of them involved and he’d never told them precisely why all of this was as it was. But Hadrian looked hesitant still and focused on the ceiling for a minute.

As expected, he was still relentless in his protective defence. Tom drops his hand and green eyes flicker to him. “Then I’ll find a way around you,” Tom says just as Hadrian says,

“Okay.” Tom stared at him.

“Okay?” Tom repeated, lifting a brow. Hadrian tilted his head and sighed, closing his eyes.

“Okay. But not tonight.”

“No,” Tom agrees, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth and he kissed Hadrian. “Tonight I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Hadrian hummed, smiling slightly and fiddled with Tom’s hair.

“Who said I was letting you out of mine?” Tom smirked.

“You’ll sidle away when it gets too overwhelming.” Hadrian crossed a leg and his arms.

“I’ll have you know I’m very good at handling pressure.”

“Mhm. If you break any of our friends I’m blaming it on you.” Hadrian sighed and his weight was familiar and comforting. Tom wrapped a strand of balck hair around his finger as Hadrian watched him.

“I missed you,” Hadrian whispered.

“I don’t ever miss anyone,” he lies but Hadrian just smiles.

“No. Of course not.” Tom leant his forehead against Hadrian’s and they sat there for a minute.

“When are you going to drop the spell?”

“When you’re ready.” So there was a spell. He gazes at everyone else and doesn’t particularly feel like sharing as they chat and drink, not bothering to look their way. They were respecting the fact that Tom was finding it easier to fade into the background.

“Do you have to?” Hadrian cocked his head.

“I’ll have you know public indecency is a crime-” Tom grunted in irritation and Hadrian chuckled at his own joke. He takes a deep breath- and despite his entire being screaming for him to do otherwise, nodded.

The magic falls away around them and it takes a while for any of them to notice. He picks up the fire whiskey from the side table- and shared it with Hadrian.

It’s when Orion and Adrien returned, flush with excitement and glasses in hand that Orion freezes, glass shattering in hand and shards falling to the ground. Everyone else jumps and whips around while Orion stared at Tom and Hadrian, who had an arm around Tom’s shoulders and was drinking his firewhiskey.

Barty, Lucius, Narcissa, Regulus, Remus, Sirius, Arcturus, Reinhard, Abraxas and Thaddeus all turn to stare at Orion and Aiden followed Orion’s gaze- a hand digs into the back of Tom’s hair and he soothes Hadrian with magic.

His body relaxed, only fractionally, and the room was soon staring at the extra figure who had joined them.

Orion was trembling- Hadrian was regarding him coolly but his grip on Tom’s hair was saying how he felt otherwise.

Everyone was staring and then Hadrian spoke, “As handsome as I know I am I wasn’t aware I could reduce you, to a gawking mess, brother.” Orion let out a choking sound and stumbled over and Hadrian looked as if he was about to get up- Tom’s grip on his waist keeps him firmly on his lap.

He didn’t need someone stealing him away tonight.

Hadrian’s magic poked him and he grit his jaw as he let him go and Harry stood up.

No one saw the punch coming- but Tom was up in a moment, leaping over the arm rest, blood boiling as Hadrian reeled and with magic- Tom shoved his fist into Orion’s gut and the man grunted in surprise, stumbling back and Reinhard caught him.

It could have only taken a few seconds- because a hand firmly gripped his shoulder next-

“Don’t fucking touch him,” Riddle snarled, “Don’t you fucking touch him like that.”

Orion just laughed.

“He fucking deserves it-” Arcturus loomed over his youngest son but doesn’t reprimand him, instead keeping his grip solidly on Tom’s shoulder.

“You-” Tom snarled-

“That’s enough!” Hadrian shouted and his voice shattered through Tom’s anger when he realised Hadrian’s ire was directed firmly at him. A poisonous green eye glaring at him. There was blood leaking from the corners of his mouth.

Orion hadn’t held back.

“Is he your brother?” Hadrian demands. Tom felt anger grow in his chest.

“No.”

“Do you get to decide how he reacts?”

“He punched you-”

“If I were me I would,” Hadrian snapped. Silence descended on the group and Hadrian turned back to Orion who was sat on an Ottoman gripping his stomach and glaring at Tom- who stared down at him. “That’s enough from the both of you,” Hadrian demanded, offering Orion an arm and the man took it, staring at Hadrian like he wanted to punch him again.

Tom’s entire body roiled but he forced himself to take a step back.

The fucking bastard.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down but gave Orion a warning glare and the man stood up to look at Hadrian.

“I have several things to say,” Orion grunts, “but I’ll refrain for now.” Tom had to hold back saying ‘wisely’ because he knew it would be significantly underappreciated.

“You’re alive,” Thaddeus says pointedly, staring at Hadrian like he was a ghost. Maybe he was and they were all secretly insane.

Tom watched the rest of them for any signs of aggression- Arcturus put a hand on his shoulder and gripped. Hard.

If he didn’t have respect for him it would have been easier to shrug off the warning.

“I am,” Hadrian responded, looking from friend to friend. “And I’m sorry for not finding a way back sooner.” His gaze settled on Orion. “I’m sorry, brother. For leaving you alone to deal with the aftermath. For not involving you.”

Orions fist clenched- Tom was debating chopping it off but Arcturus’s magic had ensnared his feet and kept him from acting out of the line Hadrian had set.

“I-” Orion began but Hadrian interrupted.

“I don’t expect to be forgiven. That is not fair, not yet. Let me earn it back.” His gaze found everyone but once again settled on his brother.

Orion really was debating punching his brother again but out of idiocy rather than anyone else but Hadrian was right. Too much had happened afterwards to be completely forgiven. As much as he’d like to forgive his brother and tell him it wasn’t his fault the truth is it was. The state if them now is because of Hadrian and all the secrets he possessed and potentially still possesses.

“Then no more lies, brother,” Orion begged, his heart suffocating in his chest. “I want no more lies.” There is an ironic smile on Hadrians face that might have been more of a grimace.

“You’ve been through my memories. There’s not much I can hide.” Orion blanched amd the room sent the man an accusing look, as if they hadn’t known that.

Tom had known that to an extent so he kept quiet.

“I- I didn’t see much,” the man admits, “just small things really- except for the ring, I saw… in the ring-”

“Orion I’m not angry,” Hadrian said, his voice level and his expression sincere. “I’m a few many things but angry is not one of them.”

His brother just shook his head and pulled Hadrian in for a hug and when the two brothers embraced- the room relaxed marginally.

Tom let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and Arcturus let him go.

Then the two separated and Orion was blinking away tears, looking vulnerable and like he needed something but wasn’t entirely sure what it was.

“No more lies,” Orion repeated, staring at him.

“Very well,” Hadrian conceded. “But I’m still not telling you where I hide your socks.” Orion barked a laugh, hoarse and full of emotion but it still made Hadrian smile.

“Sorry about your face,” Orion said when he recovered.

“I’m not,” the man responded evenly, green eyes glimmering with mirth. Then he turned to Thaddeus. “Hello old friend.” Thaddeus accepted the embrace somewhat tentatively, not being much of a hugger.

“Hello Hades…” It was barely a whisper but everyone heard it. “You won’t be leaving again right?”

“Not any time soon,” Hadrian responded equally as quietly. Thaddeus jerked back and nodded, wiping moisture from his eyes. Avery burst into tears and practically sobbed waterfalls into Hadrian’s shirt but the man didn’t appear to mind, stroking soothing circles on his friends back. Avery just swore at him repetitively through his tears and then when he pulled back, Orion comforted him. Reinhard, just stared at him. Like he was a Ghost and he wasn’t really there.

Then he closed his eyes and let out a rough sigh. “You die again and I’m resigning. I’ll take up a position in Beauxbatons instead.”

The idea was outlandish and amusing but somehow the picture fit and even Hadrian seemed to see the humour. So now that no one seemed like they were going to rough-house his boyfriend, Tom picked up the remainder of the rough-house and downed it in one.

Hadrian had been right, of course. The best way to get out their anger, is if the recipient was willing, was just straight out attack. That way words would work and all the anger would fade away. Alternatively, one person would get riled up who Hadrian was likely to calm down later.

Abraxas gave his dear old friend a long hug and cursed him to oblivion and looked borderline teary but wouldn’t break down in front of Lucius or Narcissa, so he straightened himself and nodded to Hadrian.

“Leave again and I’ll glue you to the floor.”

“I’ll just take off my shoes shall I?” Hadrian responds playfully. Abraxas shakes his head in fond disbelief.

Arcturus let out a long breath and finally Hadrian turned around and looked hesitant.

“Father.”

“Hadrian,” Arcturus responded with a tight nod. All his bravado seemed to have disappeared now that Hadrian was directly facing him. The magic in the room seemed to drop away as the two forces mingled, searching and testing one another before Arcturus sighed and pulled Hadrian into a bear hug. “You fool. I ought to ground you for a decade in the least.”

Hadrian chuckled and then- broke down. His laughter turned to cries and Tom struggled to leave the two to deal with it.

“Gods I missed you,” Hadrian said hoarsely. “Father-”

“I know,” Arcturus said soothingly. Hadrian took a deep breath and didn’t continue saying whatever he had planned. The two pulled apart and this time it was Hadrian who was rubbing his eyes.

Barty, Lucius, Narcissa, Regulus, Remus and Sirius all looked on dumbfounded. Like their lives had just been upended and they had been. Well and truly.

They’d realise that in the coming days that everything would change whether they allowed it to or not because in the end it was Hadrian in charge of it.

The order would change- if there was order at all. In fact Hadrian might decide to disestablish it all in favour of merging it with his own commands.

“I suppose you need to meet your Nephews,” Orion says with a long sigh and shared a look with Regulus.

The boy stood and Hadrian gave him an appraising look.

“I do apologise for the terrible introduction and being absent,” Hadrian told him as green eyes stared back. “Hadrian Black.” The man stuck out a hand and Regulus smiled and shook his hand.

“Regulus Black, I’ve heard many things about you.”

“I do hope he hasn’t told you anything embarrassing,” Hadrian responded lightly, sending a teasing look back at Orion who seemed to relax and sent a lazy smile back.

“Only a few milder events.” Hadrian made a noise of disbelief and turned back to Regulus.

“Then I hope nothing too bad.” Regulus laughed.

“No, just about your misadventures.”

“I’ll have you know your father was almost always the culprit. I just agreed.” Orion lifted a brow.

“Ah I apologise. I wasn’t aware my dragon tore mothers favourite dress on the clothes line.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t throw the meat at the dress,” Hadrian responded innocently.

Arcturus looked mollified. “It was you two after all, I had to sleep on the couch.” The two brothers sent smirks to one another and Regulus was looking at his grandfather in surprise.

Hadrian turned to Regulus’s wife who was quite capable of hiding in the background. She was black haired also, fair boned and had an innocence in her eyes that put Regulus at ease and was entirely offset by the family of sharp eyed individuals. She curtsies.

“Alannis Black,” she introduces herself and Hadrian smiled, a genuine smile that made Tom soften slightly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Alannis,” Hadrian said softly. “Thank you for taking care of my nephews.”

“I dare say he’s taken care of me,” Alannis said softly, looking at Regulus with a look of soft, gentle and forgiving love.

“I’m glad,” Hadrian admitted truthfully. “I hope this family is treating you well.” Her eyes gleam and she offered Hadrian a smile.

“I’m sure with you things can only get better.” Hadrian chuckled lowly.

“You hold high expectations, I’ll do my best to fill them.”

Then Hadrian turned to Sirius who had gotten up and looked like he didn’t know how to present himself.

“Sirius Black,” the man says with wide eyes. Remus stuck close, like he was afraid Sirius might just pass out. There was an expression of longing on Hadrians face for a moment before it faded and he shook Sirius’s hand.

“I know. I have heard much about you.” Sirius blinked in surprise.

“From who?”

“From Mr Potter himself. He is quite fond of you.” Grief flashes across the face of Lupin, Sirius and even Hadrian, much to everyone’s surprise.

“I hope so,” Sirius said softly. Hadrian finally turned to Remus with a big grin.

“Remus Lupin I take.”

“That would be me,” the werewolf responded and he was clearly sniffing to try and familiarise himself with Hadrian’s smell. If he was surprised by what he found, the only indication was a slight widening of his eyes.

However to everyone’s surprise, Hadrian embraced him and gave him a short hug.

“Thank you for looking after my nephew and protecting Fleamont’s son and grandson.” Remus actually seemed shocked by the thankfulness and murmured a quiet,

“Anyone would have.”

“Nobody did,” Hadrian responded idly, pulling back. “But you did and so did you, Sirius. So thank you both.” The two actually seemed overwhelmed so Hadrian did the wise thing and moved to Narcissa and Lucius who clearly didn’t know whether to bow or grovel.

Narcissa curtsied slightly. “Narcissa Malfoy.”

“Pleasure, it truly is.” Hadrian responded, a hand on his chest. “But I’ll spare you another set of introductions because you already know who I am.” She offered a sharp smile.

“Indeed I do.” He finally turned to Lucius who offered an incline of his head.

“Abraxas’s son,” Hadrian comments, holding out his hand and Lucius takes it in a firm grip.

“Lucius Malfoy, my Lord.”

“Hadrian is fine,” he responds breezily, easily redirecting the title and easing tensions. “It’s Christmas, there’s no need for formalities.” Lucius offered a terse nod and Hadrian turned to everyone else who watched him with a faint smile. “Well I don’t come particularly bearing gifts, but I do have one that everybody is equally inclined to share. Of course, I do mean everyone.” He turned to Regulus and Alannis. “Could we be joined by your son and his friends?”

Regulus smiled and Alannis rearranged her skirts. “I’ll go and get them.” She quickly slipped through the halls and Hadrian finally, finally returned to Tom’s side.

The moment either man felt the warmth of his counterpart, they relaxed.

The room was polite enough to pretend not to notice.

“A gift to share?” Abraxas asked curiously. Hadrian’s smile just grew into something a bit more playful and was about to say something inappropriate when Tom elbowed him.

Aiden and Orions snickers were both cut off when Ekkathion charged into the room, human and all with a giant grin on his face- and slammed into Hadrian.

“It took you long enough!” The boy scorned.

“There was a lot of work to do,” he complained and Ekkathion stood back, crossing his arms and lifted a brow. He was a quick learner of using a human body but there might have been a bit of Harry Potter shining in there- from the red and green magic that was swirling in that body.

“Well I’ve had to keep it a secret,” he responded with a sniff. Orion was staring at the boy like he might very well tear the kid apart. Hadrian put his hands on the kids shoulders responsibly and glared at Orion.

“No touching.” The man sniffed and Ekkathion looked over his shoulder before shrugging and turning to the four gaping children behind him. Hayes was taking shelter by his mothers side, staring at Hadrian who smirked at them.

Draco looked like he longed to race to his mother and Theodore was staring at his father. Blaise looked like he should have been anywhere but there.

But Hayes was staring in something like wonder.

“Your- my… great-uncle?” Hadrian twitched at the reminder that he was indeed old.

“You are my grand-nephew,” he assured him.

“Oh- my name is Hayes,” the boy blurted and Hadrian finally got the second chance to blink slowly and then shook his head in amusement and ruffled the boys hair.

“Well met Hayes. I’m Hadrian.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, is it true you rode a dragon?” Ekkathion muttered something indiscernible but Hadrian had an inkling to what it would have been.

“It is true,” he replied with a slight grin. “Maybe if you behave I’ll grab Ekkathion and we can go for a fly.”

This time Ekkathion made a strangled noise and Tom was finally putting two and two together with shock. Ekkathion just met his gaze and glared. So the Lord of House Gaunt just shut up in defeat, clearly well out of his league.

“Ekkathion’s still alive!” Hayes asked with an epic grin. “That would be awesome!”

“No worries. Introduce me to your friends?”

“Sure. This is Blaise Zabini.” The boy waved with a silly grin and he smiled back.

“Well met Blaise.”

“Uh, well met sir.” Amused, Hadrian turned to Theodore.

“This is Theodore Nott.” Hadrian shot Thaddeus a look and the man just eased back against the armrest of the couch with a lifted brow, judging every move Hadrian made.

“I’m both pleased and surprised to meet you.” Thaddeus coughed out a curse word and Theodore looked surprise but shook Hadrian’s proferred hand.

“Surprised, sir?” He just gave a secret smile and Thaddeus sighed.

“And this is Draco Malfoy,” Hayes says, pointing to the blond who offered a hand first. Just like so many years ago.

“Pleased to put a name to a face,” Draco said with a grin.

“As am I,” Hadrian accepts, shaking the boys hand with a firm grip. “Now I hope everyone doesn’t mind apparition. No one suffers from side effects right?”

Orion and Tom both lifted a brow.

“To where?”

“That’s the surprise,” Hadrian responded. “I’m taking everyones silence as a no. Alright, gather in a two metre radius if you please.” So everyone gathered around, Tom was at Hadrian’s back in an instance and Orion was by his brother’s side with Arcturus on the other.

It was a display of strength to not portkey and instead apparate- but also he just couldn’t be bothered to make a portkey when Apparating was so much easier. It also helped reassure everyone that he wasn’t about to break if he was capable of doing this.

So with a snap and a crack, the entire party arrived in a snow cleared clearing, staring as a house hummed in pleasure as it’s residence rearrived outside of it’s halls.

Hadrian seperated himself from the group and opened his arms wide, basking in the glow from the chandeliers through the open door and the candles lit in every room and with a giant grin, said,

“Welcome home.”

Orion burst into tears.

Chapter Text

Orion was, rightfully, reeling. In fact he’s pretty sure he’s been hexed and jinxed beyond oblivion and this was some very strange dream he was staggering through. He’d punched his brother, his brother hadn’t retaliated and had even shouted at Riddle.

Yes, a very, very strange dream.

Of course, the dream didn’t stop and the reality got sharper and sharper until it twisted metal rods into his head and threatened to spill out his eyes with shards of glass.

He’s pretty sure he’s burst an eardrum because the words people are saying as they walk through the house wash over him but he doesn’t really hear them.

Instead, he hasn’t moved from the stables and he looks at the two horses.

They were so similar to the horses they’d had when they were younger. Not entirely the same. They were larger, softer. Normal. His mother hadn’t gone through great magical breeds and breeders and spent a weekend bidding at an auction for them but the sentiment was still there.

He stroked the nose of his horse and he knew it was his horse because it was in the stable Orion’s horse had always been at. He missed Blaze, and Sassafras wasn’t in the stall next to her but…

“You’ll have to take me for a ride,” Orion tells his brother who stands next to him and observes him. Close enough to be almost touching but not quite, like an imitation of closeness. Orion doesn’t close the gap in case it is all an illusion. He doesn’t want it to break. He might have punched his brother and the redness is still there but his brother had excellent healing abilities underneath his skin. In fact, he doesn’t remember Hadrian getting ill. Ever. Except from exhaustion and overexertion.

“Yeah. I wonder if the old track down by the river is still there,” Hadrian murmured. Orion glanced at the face out of the corner of his eye.

No one but Hadrian would have known about that. But then again, he’s not sure if Mancer had ever found out anything else.

Orion turns his attention from the horse to Hadrian who watches him warily. Deserved, really. He had punched him and Orion give him a crooked grin.

“I don’t know whether to strangle you or hug you.” Hadrian doesn’t laugh, which he appreciates. He might have said it jokingly, but he meant it.

He’s angry and he feels like he’s the only one that is.

“How long have you been… out here for?” He waves around at the world and waits for the answer. “You didn’t survive that day, did you?”

“You saw the memories,” Hadrian said slowly, gaze flickering, “you know the answer to that.”

“I need to hear it from you.” His brother stared at him for a long moment.

“No… I didn’t survive that day and no manner of magic was going to save me.” Orion let out a long breath and slumped against the stall wall and up at the mansion he’d once decided to leave out of hatred. “I came back three years ago. Roughly.”

“Three?” Orion demanded, gaze whipping around to his brother. “You wilfully abandoned us for three years? You didn’t come earlier? You left us, to suffer and wonder what happened, for three more years than we had to?”

“Would three years have changed anything?” Hadrian asked softly, gaze full of shame but looking for an answer.

“Well yeah we could protect you, the family would have been back together-” Hadrian’s gaze was long and quiet, like he usually was before he was about to say something deep and meaningful and that would make Orion regret what he’d said.

Orion didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

He stood up angrily and paced the courtyard. “If you’d just- if you’d just not told us that you’d come back Hadrian maybe we all could have moved on. Not that I’m not glad that your back but you lied to us- to me, for years and it took you dying to confess it. Are you going to have to die again to confess another big secret? Or are you going to take it to the grave? Or…” he spins on Hadrian with a glare. “Can you not die? Am I going to have to grow old and watch you never age a day and know that I failed you in such a way that I physically can’t do anything about it? Honestly I’d rather die fighting Mancer than that outcome.” Hadrian flinched and rubbed his jaw.

Riddle was inside the hallways somewhere, thankfully having giving the two brothers much needed space to talk it out after heavy convincing from Hadrian and a get fucked from Orion.

“Don’t be a dick, I can give up the Master of Death status whenever I want and die just like anyone else.”

“So it’s true. That’s what it was.” Orion walked forward and swallowed the ground before he leant over his brother, staring down at him. “How long have you had that for?”

“Since I was seventeen.” Orions gaze narrowed but a part of him believed it. Green eyes steadily stared back, waiting for an outburst.

Orion didn’t give it to him. “How many times has this happened?”

“Three times.” The replies weren’t fast enough to be practised and the man wasn’t thinking about it so it appeared he was telling the truth.

His brother stared right back. A face he hadn’t seen in so long.

He finally reached out and hesitated before setting his hand on his brothers shoulder. It was firm and stiff, cold. But that was expected from the snow and winter.

The lantern nearby set the sides of their faces alight with warmth but it’s that that allows him to see the scar against ear. He remembered seeing the wound on his corpse. In fact he remembered it clearer than day.

“If you killed him, at that moment or destroyed his body, how did he manage to inflict your wounds after?” Orion asks. Sure it might be cruel to ask and his brother probably was traumatised and wouldn’t admit it until someone dragged it out of him, but he’d answer. If he knew.

“I imagine it was actually one of his surviving underlings who wanted revenge,” Hadrian responded with a shrug. “Or he possessed one of them and fled.”

“It’s probable,” Orion admitted, letting his hand drop. “Fleamont’s dead.” Hadrian’s eyes did water but he looked up at the dark sky and Orion eyed the faint, silvery scars that crossed his throat. Not deep enough to be able to be felt. After all, he hadn’t been beheaded, not entirely.

“I know,” Hadrian said faintly, his voice unnaturally quiet. “I got his diary from Gringotts.” His lips thinned with displeasure. “Orion the reason…” His brother was glancing all around the courtyard now, not looking at his face. Something he did when he wasn’t entirely sure if he was going to say it or not. “The reason,” he said with defeat, eyes closing tightly, “that I didn’t come back was because in my head, there were only two outcomes to what happened. Mancer had gotten you all and you have to understand, I heard nothing but that Riddle tried to kill a baby and slaughtered his parents. It was too similar to what Mancer did so I hid but I couldn’t find news of you anywhere. News of people who had once been so prominent in society- well I was terrified that you’d all been… enslaved.” Hadrian shrugged. “I thought, maybe you’d found the Underground so I went back and you weren’t there so I regrouped them and I sent them out. They say they’d encountered your men briefly but never in direct conflict so I thought it was even more strange.”

“The other reason?” Orion asks, his voice low. He didn’t want to hear the answer.

“That you’d moved on,” Hadrian said simply, opening his eyes again and green intensely pinned him before easing, eyes crinkling at the corners in a memory. “I wouldn’t have cared about that outcome either. Maybe Riddle hadn’t or maybe it had been a farce and it hadn’t been Riddle at all. But if you had moved on and had secluded yourself from the Wizarding World to just live life and not give a damn I would have respected that too.”

“What changed?” Orion asked.

“I saw Reinhard at the graveyard,” he said carefully. “With Dumbledore and I realised nothing had changed. I don’t know how I knew, really. But nothing had changed.”

“They saw Potter at the graveyard, not you.” Hadrian glanced at him then and Orion knew he was about to hear something that would make everything make sense.

“I was him.”

Orion inhaled sharply and glanced to the mansion that the boy had just walked into.

“You were in the mansion then. You. Not Potter.”

“Not Potter,” Hadrian agreed. “I needed to understand what was happening before I jumped back carelessly. I had to make sure I wasn’t a risk. Of course Neville found out and shoved me into the Tournament and it’s a mess, really.”

He didn’t even have anything to say.

Because a boy couldn’t have been that smart. A boy of fourteen couldn’t have had those eyes that had stared at him and now, staring at the mansion, he realised what he’d managed to do.

The apparition from the ring had been right and Orion let out a long, slow breath and closed his eyes.

“But something was wrong right? You weren’t actually yourself?”

“Yeah. My thoughts were scattered and I couldn’t remember half the shit I thought I actually should have. I had an avoidance of that shit but you dragged me back here and I found my patronus and got my body back.”

“What happened to Potter then?” Orion asks, opening his eyes.

“Potter and Ekkathion kind of merged into a person,” he responded with a shrug, jerking a thumb inside. “I’m sure they’re all having whiplash and I’m fairly certian they still think he’s capable of shifting forms.”

“Is he?”

“Well yeah, to a degree.”

“Poor Fleamont. Were you actually kidnapped?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to lecture me if I say yes. I found myself existing again in the form of Harry Potter on the Hogwarts Station and I got kidnapped by a witch and missed the train.”

Orion burst into laughter because really, what else is he supposed to do? The thought was absurd but it was all beginning to make sense and really the universe had been against him.

“If you could have come home earlier, would you have?”

“Orion I would have risen from the dead the moment you guys got there if I could have,” Hadrian responded honestly. “But I… I used a power I wasn’t supposed to use and I suppose the punishment for that was thirty years of bullshit.” Orion leant against the stables again, finally letting out a long breath and closing his eyes.

“So you aren’t some eldritch horror.”

“You’ll never let me get there because every time I try I lose brain cells in your presence.” Orion gawked at his brother and then guffawed.

“That was good.” His brother sent him a victory smirk.

“I know.” The two brothers leant on the fence and observed the mansion.

“It’s going to be good to have you back,” Orion said softly. He pretended not to notice the tears in Hadrian’s eyes for his brothers sanity. Which he hopes is still in tact but he had a feeling otherwise.

“Yeah, I’m glad I’m back too.” Orion finally pulled his brother in for a tight hug because he needed it, Hadrian needed it and all around- the two needed it and to his mild amusement and joy- Hadrian still grunts with protest everytime he finds himself under Orions armpit with his head against Orions ribcage and ruining his hair but unlike all the other times when Hadrian swears and tells him to get lost, he stays there. Stooped awkwardly like he’s trying to fit under a wing of protection that he desperately wants but is too big for.

Orion makes it fit, shuffling around before his arm is slung over Hadrian’s shoulders and pulled him in tightly, leaning slightly back so that Hadrian could find his place.

“I’ve got you,” Orion said. Hadrian sighed, burying his head into Orions side. “I’m always going to have your back, brother. Nothing will change that.”

“Even if you punch me a few times?”

“You said it yourself, that was deserved.”

“Gods you are so stupid.” A long silence but his brothers tears are soaking into his shirt so he doesn’t say anything about it. No one comes out of the house so they must be giving them some space which is appreciated.

Orion stares up at the clouds and watches his breath, like a non-corporeal patronus, rise up into the sky.

He would protect his brother and he’d do his goddamned best to tear Mancer apart. If it means overwhelming him with pure power, he’ll be doing that until he keels over trying.

“Whens the marriage between you and Aiden?” Orion choked on his air- looking down at his brother who didn’t dare to look up. His eye twitched.

“I- Regulus would kill me,” Orion said stiffly.

“No he wouldn’t.” No, Regulus wouldn’t. Neither would Sirius and quite frankly, no one would dare. They’d all probably be expecting it, actually. Orion sighed for a very long time.

“I don’t think it’s like that. I don’t know what Aiden wants but I don’t think it’s that. I think seeing what happened to Riddle scared him and he’s not letting himself get too attached.”

“I think Riddle turned out fine,” Hadrian muttered.

“Compared to the shit going down in first year, I’d have to agree,” Orion said with a huff of amusement. Hadrian echoed the sound but went quiet. The two of them remained in the cold for a while and eventually, his brother straightened up but didn’t remove himself from Orions relaxed embrace. He glanced at his brother and he knew it wasn’t the time to tell him that Orion didn’t want the position of Lord. That he’d rather Hadrian have it, but that would be cruel to toss Hadrian back into the position he was supposed to have.

Alas, just like Orion could tell something was wrong with Hadrian, Hadrian could do the same.

“What do you want to say?” He, green eyes glancing at him. Orion observes him for a moment but the lines of exhaustion he’d grown so familiar with before aren’t there anymore.

“The Lordship.” Hadrian doesn’t shy away, his gaze became faraway for a moment and he’s likely thinking about how he could use it to his advantage.

“I think you’ve made a great Lord,” Hadrian says stiffly.

“Never said I didn’t. I never said I wanted it either.”

“Regulus or Sirius would be heir.” Orion wasn’t entirely sure either of his sons really wanted the Lordship. Regulus was more suited than Sirius but he’s sure deep down, Regulus doesn’t want it. Sirius can’t have it because he was in the same situation as Hadrian. He would have no sons or daughters.

Orions silence must have meant something to Hadrian, because his brother sent him a knowing look and gazed out into the open.

“I’ve aged slowly,” Orion said lowly. “So has father. I don’t want to outlive Regulus but perhaps you or I, could hold out on choosing a heir until Hayes comes of age. You have spent some time with him, what do you think?”

In fact, Hadrian might know Hayes better than Orion.

“He’s competent,” his brother admitted, squinting into the darkness but he’s not looking for something. “He’s young but he’s smart and he’s observive. He knows how to move around normal people.”

“I can imagine how you two both went down.”

“He was rather intrigued on why I smelled like Riddle,” Hadrian said with a grunt, Orion burst out laughing. Of all things that could have given away Hadrian, it would have been Hayes’s sense of smell.

Hadrian sent him a scathing look that softened but he did elbow Orion harshly in the side.

“Jerk.”

“Idiot.” Orion glanced back at the mansion. Everything was right. They’d come back, with two more family members in tow. He’s sure Sirius and Lupin would be looking around like dazed deer, Regulus and Alannis would be gawking at their ancestral home they’d never stepped foot in. The power of the Black Family was contained in the house. There were old portrais of family, there was magic and there was charm. The seats of the table would be full with their enlarged family and all their friends that had joined them.

“Would you take it?” Orion asks.

“If it so pains you to be Lord Orion I’ll help out. I’ve been a Lord before, I can do it again.” It had been a brief point in time but Orion supposes that was true.

“Good,” Orion says, tucking his chin into his shirt. “Father missed you.”

“I know,” Hadrian says softly. “I’ll make it up to him.”

“I think he wants to take up wandmaking.”

“Really? I suppose he is good at crafting when he wants to be.”

“Ollivander is getting on in his years, I think father wants to be the local wandmaker and restore wandcraft to what it used to be.”

“Well having more than two cores might be helpful.” The two shake their heads in amusement.

“Will you keep the Elder Wand?”

“I don’t use it as my main wand,” Hadrian says pointedly. “It may be my wand by right of title and whatnot but it’s… hard to use for mundane activities.” Orion nodded.

“I’m sure Thaddeus would love to hear about this.”

“I’ll be spending a lot of time with people I fear,” Hadrian said with a grim smile. Orion knew just how antisocial is brother could be when he got sick of being around people. He’d just disappear but now he knew where he’d disappeared to.

“I looked into your memories.”

“So you’ve pointed out.” There was no hostility in his brothers voice. Orion observed him.

“I have a question.” Hadrian stiffened slightly and Orion grit his jaw. He’s not going to like the answer. “Griffin and you.” Hades wasn’t saying anything, he wasn’t trying to explain himself- he’s waiting for the accusation. Orion wasn’t going to say it but he had his answer already.

He won’t pretend that he doesn’t understand. In a time of hardship where Hadrian couldn’t involve Tom, he needed someone who’d understood and wouldn’t judge. Someone older, someone experienced.

Someone like an age old vampire.

“Have you two ever…”

“No,” Hadrian says sharply, crossing his arms and gritting his jaw. “It’s complicated.”

“I can see that.”

“I don’t know how to fix it.” Now that was a confession, but Orion’s had a shit love life. Apart from his freedom in Hogwarts and the meaningless flings between genders and houses he’s not well versed in something as meaningful as what Hadrian has sought in partners.

Frankly, it’s not his business. He’s always let Riddle and Hadrian sort their shit out but he’s not entirely sure how much he likes the thought of a Vampire having his way with his brother. Then again, Riddle was pretty much a vampire on his own. Shadow communication, sucluded in a room kind of like a crypt and an obsession with revenge and blood-

Hmm.

It would appear, Hadrian has a type.

“I would even know where to start,” Orion says wryly. “Does Griffin know about Tom?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought the blood pact-”

“Oh it’s tried to kill me before yeah.” Orion stared at him and then had to pointedly remember his brother is a bit insane and take a breather.

“You still kept going?”

“Orion it’s not really a relationship. It’s more… like a friendship with benefits.” Orion closed his eyes. That was currently the most he could say about him and Aiden. They were both getting old, he’s not sure it could turn to something even if he wanted it to.

“But you want more?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, my relationships are my problem to deal with.”

“Thanks for letting me know.” Hadrian gave him a long, indiscernable look.

“If you hadn’t seen the memories, I never would have told you.” Orion gave his brother a sad smile.

“I know.”

Hadrian didn’t meet his eyes, looking at his feet instead and Orion looked at the house.

“I think you’ve done a great job fixing it,” he says conversationally, turning the attention away from that dark little secret he really wish he didn’t know about but was glad he did.

“There’s a tree, in the living room.” Orion blinked at his brother in bewilderment.

“You didn’t.”

“I’ve missed out on a lot of birthdays and christmas’s. And on a lot of family.” Hadrian gripped Orion by his wrist and then dragged him towards the house.

Orion closed his eyes as the smell of leather and pine washed over him and then they were walking down the halls, repaired, freshened and rugs had been repaired. Any damage or dirt that had been left behind, had been erased and Hadrian was dragging him through the halls like he had when he was a child, towards the living room, where their mother and father would be waiting.

They passed by engraved archways and Arcturus stood there in the living room, watching his two grown children reappear, still dragging one another like they were seven years old again.

This time, instead of an argument or a scolding, Arcturus just sighed in relief.

Chapter Text

There was one thing Hadrian hadn’t considered when he stood in the room, observing everyone as they opened gifts, personal ones that helped them in some form, with things he shouldn’t know about, was the thirty years of separation had left a gaping chasm between everyone in the room and him.

Despite their endless thanks, exclaims and words, the gifts they received and everything else, Hadrian stood there, not fully removed but not fully involved either. Ekkathion was more like Harry than the dragon realised and had glossed over the bond between them so that the only person Hadrian felt fully corporeal in front of, was his father.

His father, who only had one gift.

It was an old grimoire, hundreds upon hundreds of years old. On artefact theory. Wands were in there and so many strange but interesting pieces. It was gilded with gold and leather bound. Each word was handwritten, each drawing preciously hand done and there were notes slipped inside from a wizard or witch a few centuries later.

His father simply held it in his hands, his gaze reflecting how distant Hadrian physically felt. He watches Regulus and Sirius banter with Hayes and the boys and how Alannis laughs and opens packages- he sees how deferential Regulus is to her and how respectfully Sirius converses with them all, throwing in the odd inappropriate joke in that makes Remus scowl. Remus and Alannis are just chatting otherwise, chatting and chatting and they must have gone to Hogwarts together, from what he’s observing.

Narcissa and Lucius are precious over Draco, constantly hugging him or touching him in some way to make sure the boy never went far. They sat on a leather chaise together with Draco on the floor, opening gifts.

He watches them the most, he watches Draco the most.

The memories he kept deeply entrenched deep within his mind coming forth. It’s almost a pain worthy of killing him with how far away his auror partner was. A boy no younger than fourteen. He was not stained with blood, he was not obsessed with being friends with Potter or beating him in all the subjects, or making fun of him.

But Narcissa and Lucius were happy without Voldemort. Lucius didn’t have a limp that slowly devoured his life and Narcissa wasn’t destroyed with the loss of her son and husband. Scorpius didn’t exist here and Astoria was living her life somewhere out there, likely fangirling with her other friends during the holidays and trying to forget the events at Hogwarts.

Speaking of Hogwarts, he’d need to fix the destruction he’d done. Merlin that had been such a blunder on his part but there was no point beating himself up over it. What was done, was done. It would be require a lengthy conversation and likely a word to the Unspeakables and Aurors. Perhaps the Minister, even.

A hand settled on his shoulder and he startled- but dark blue magic mingled with his and he glanced at his father, who looked at him with concern. A quick sweep of the room informed him only Orion and Tom had noticed.

“Sorry?” He asks. Arcturus holds up the book.

“Where did you get it from?”

“Grindelwald.” The room pauses and turns to him, having caught the name and the Triarii turned almost at once. Even his father just stares in surprise.

“Grindelwald?” Thaddeus echoes, “when did you meet Grindelwald?”

“We’ve met him before,” Tom says slowly, frowning, “but never on friendly terms.”

“No,” he agrees carefully. He had to find the man as well, that letter he’d sent a few weeks ago was important but he hadn’t been in the mind to contact back. “I did something I shouldn’t have for it but it doesn’t matter now.” Arcturus lifts a brow imploringly.

“Pray do tell what you had to give the bastard for this.”

“The location of the Qilin. It was how he planned to become the Supreme Mugwump.” Arcturus looked at the book.

“He wanted the Qilin enough to hand over this book?”

“He already read through it for the location of the Hallows,” he explains. “When they weren’t in there the book lost all it’s value to him.”

“Why did you want it?”

“It was for you, I just never had the chance to give it to you.” The rest was left unspoken but Arcturus’s eyes glimmered with emotion.

“Thank you.” He nodded. “Was there another reason?” He gives his father a rueful smile.

“Unfortunately.”

“Can we hear it?” Hayes asks, leaning over the leather couch with wide eyes. The others observed, but also looked curious. Even Ekk was staring at Hadrian in confusion. But he wasn’t entirely sure he should reveal it with so many children in the room. That being said, they could likely handle it after the aftermath of Hogwarts and what Hadrian had done. Gods he’d killed Hermione.

“Well, Grindelwald knew the Qilin wouldn’t bow to him in the ceremony,” he says carefully. “The Qilin bows to the person worthy of becoming the Supreme Mugwump, they have an intrinsic magic that tells them who to pick.”

“Would Grindelwald have used an Imperius?” Aiden asks from against the wall.

“The Qilin have naturally strong mental wards that can’t be tampered with,” he said slowly, frowning. “No. There were a pair of Qilin twins. Newt Scamander saved one of them, Grindelwald took possession of the other and… killed it.”

“But then-” he saw it click with Hayes first, face draining of colour and he turned to Ekkathion, who simply stared at Hadrian. “Wait, wait-”

“Hayes,” Regulus says quietly. Sirius stares at Hadrian.

“There was more than one Necromancer?”

“Grindelwald was in Azkaban for a time,” he says carefully, “unfortunately he managed to find some old manuscripts from Ekrizdis.”

There were faces of confusion, but Thaddeus, Tom and Arcturus- all inhaled sharply.

“Is that the type of necromancy Mancer knows?”

“No,” Hadrian assured them, crossing his arms across his chest as he recalls the chill of Azkaban. “To this day I still don’t know where Mancer learned his necromancy from but I do know it’s a mix of herbology and potions. Ekrizdis’s form of necromancy led to the creation of Dementors.” The room paled.

“And Grindelwald succeeded?” Alannis said carefully.

“To a lesser form. The Qilin has the ability to see the future but it is that magic that Grindelwald twisted to bring it to it’s past form, without the Qilins original mind. Dementors are different and Grindelwald wasn’t strong enough to attempt that anyway and I doubt Ekrizdis left those manuscripts behind. The Unspeakables swooped in when Azkaban was discovered and would have stolen and destroyed a lot of it anyway.”

“Would there be an answer in Ekrizdis’s paper?” Orion asks slowly. Hadrian shrugs.

“I looked.”

“I think it’s a good thing Grindelwald is gone,” Narcissa says swiftly.

“Yes,” Remus said quietly. Hadrian drummed his fingers on his arm and Tom interrupted swiftly, eyes narrowed,

“He is gone, right Hades?” He coughs pointedly.

“Unbelievable,” Thaddeus groans, sinking into the chair. “Do you at least know where he is?”

“Germany?”

“Is that a question or a statement?” Orion snapped.

“It’s complicated.”

“Secrets, brother?” Low blow.

“He contacted me two weeks ago, he somehow knew I was alive. I haven’t replied to him.” Arcturus was staring.

“Does Dumbledore know?”

“Not yet,” he grumbles. “Unless Grindelwald directly contacted him which isn’t that unlikely but still, I doubt it.”

Abraxas dragged a hand down his face, and sighed.

“Fabulous. We have two Dark Necromancers on the lose.”

“Grindelwald is a necromancer in the loosest definition,” he points out. “But he’s not someone you need to worry about anyway.”

“You do have a plan right?” Ekkathion asks, brow furrowed. Orion shot the boy a look and then just sighed in disbelief.

“Always.” Although the plan was only half formed and Ekkathion must know that because his eyes narrow. It is really, really odd looking at his face from an outside perspective.

“Well, I want to go and put this in my office,” Arcturus says lightly, “Hadrian will you join me?” He nods and follows his father out of the living room, up the stairs and to the repaired office. Arcturus has been in here already since he knows his way through the warded glass bookcases and puts the book behind a multitude of others Hadrian had dragged up from the vaults in Gringotts. Older ones, some of them from the Peverell lines, some from the Ancient Blacks.

“Are you doing alright?” Arcturus asks, settling on the edge of the desk. Hadrian can’t even hide it, apparently, in front of his father.

He let’s out a gruff, “No,” and scours the books and the titles he’d painstakingly picked out while the goblins had gawked at the hidden wealth of the Peverell Vaults. Antioch had sought power through books, Cadmus had been arrogant enough but it had been founded on wealth and Ignotus had wanted knowledge on survival and more. It was full of books, coins and artefacts.

“You can talk to me.”

Hadrian digs his fingers into his bicep as his father looks on. “I thought I was smart,” he admits at last. “Powerful. I thought I was prepared and my cockiness cost me my life and some of my memories, again,” he snarled softly, pacing the room.

“Hadrian,” Arcturus says carefully, “what do you mean again?” Hadrian stared at the unlit heath and bit his cheek. He rubs the back of his neck, aggressively enough he digs nails into his skin and he feels it but the fear and hate and desperation in his chest doesn’t abate because of it. In fact he feels emotional enough he wants to cry but can’t, not in front of his father. Not today.

How is he supposed to break the news to him? To all of them?

How is he supposed to tell them of Harry Potter the first. Harry Potter I, the real boy saviour, the real martyr. How the fuck is he supposed to bring up his past when they’re all just boys now. How is he supposed to tell Tom about Draco and how sometimes his death still haunts him but now instead of Draco in that bloody bathtub in Godrics Hallow, it’s Riddle’s body- barely breathing.

Or that it’s Orions skeleton that’s trying to break down the door or Arcturus’s empty grave- knowing that somewhere out there his father is under Mancer’s control.

How is he supposed to tell them that-

A hand grips his wrist and he starts again, all the air in his chest leaving him and his father pulls his wrist away from his bloody neck and heals it for him. He stares at his father, at that older face and those stormy blue eyes. His magic is encasing Hadrian, old family magic. Remnants from being family head. It’s not as oppressing as it once was and he’s not sure he likes that.

“I can’t tell you today,” he whispers ashamedly, lowering his hand and Arcturus lets go. He peers at his bloody fingertips and mutters a cleaning spell, tucking his hands underneath his armpits. “I’ll show you, in the coming weeks. I’ll come clean.” But it would leave him more tainted than ever before.

Would he still be Orions brother- still Arcturus’s son- gods would Tom ever forgive him? Ever?

He could just disappear, he supposes. If it doesn’t go well, he could just run away again. It would be so incredibly easy. He’d just take up the position of General Morden-

“Hadrian,” Arcturus says, in a tone that was surprisingly firm and yet sympathetic. Hadrian glanced over his shoulder at his father, who looked serious. “No matter what crimes you’ve committed, no matter what magic you’ve touched or who you’ve become, you are still my son. You are still a part of this family and you are still a Black. Against all else. It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Perhaps,” he murmurs, knowing that Arcturus may say that, and then he may act completely differently when the time came. He opens and closes his mouth and then turned to his father completely and stared at him for a long moment.

Arcturus was as different from James Potter as one could get. He was stalwart where James was flippant, he was refined where James Potter was cruel, he was powerful where James fell short and yet, both of them held love for him that he felt undeserving of.

But… despite everything. Despite all that had happened- it was Arcturus he saw as his father, not James. He opens and closes his mouth.

He can’t say that.

I cannot both my fathers.

That’s what he wanted to say. He desperately wanted to say it- he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t. But he just clenched his eyes shut and grit his jaw.

“When I involve you,” he says roughly, “with what I’ve done, with my armies and my people and when I reveal the true extent of my knowledge, I just pray you don’t hate me. I pray that by the end of this, I’m still your son and you are still my father and I hope if everything else changes, I can still come home and you will still hold the door open for me.”

“Hadrian, you are my son and I think I’m the luckiest wizard in the world to have you for a son.” Arcturus’s magic was welcoming and warm, a flat sea for Hadrian to sail on forever while his father followed, a guiding albatross that observed and led. A kindness to Hadrians deceit. A kindness he didn’t deserve.

The tears fell then, but Hadrian swept them up with the cuff of his sleeve, taking deep, jagged breaths.

“I missed you,” Hadrian admitted. “I kept my distance for three years.”

“I know,” Arcturus said softly. Hadrian starts.

“Pardon?” Arcturus turned his head to overlook the courtyard where they had all arrived.

“I knew you were not Harry Potter, or rather Hadrian Potter, the moment you arrived. I also know he is Ekkathion now but the boy still remains, in fragments.” Arcturus’s gaze pinned him. “That is why I say, that no matter what magic you have discovered, or who you have been, that you are still my son. You could frighten any other man, Hadrian Morden Black, but you cannot frighten this old man. You were a boy back then and you are a boy to me now as well. I only lament that I did not show you that you could trust me enough to let me help you and that my own grief has made this family fall in your absence.”

The breath had been firmly knocked from Hadrian’s lungs. He just gaped at his father, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. What Arcturus had said was impossible- Hadrian couldn’t be forgiven for what he’d done. No- no he couldn’t be forgiven for being other people-

For so blatantly lying-

“Perhaps you were once raised by someone else,” Arcturus accepts, looking away with pursed lips- as if that was the most dreadful thought of the entire conversation, “and perhaps it is not me you truly see as a father and I admit, that is daunting but-” Arcturus grunts in surprise as Hadrian slams into him, hugging him so tightly he thinks he might be breaking ribs.

“You fucking fool,” he rasps, squeezing his eyes shut as tears frustrating leak out. “You are my only real father you old wanker.” Arcturus barks a laugh and reciprocates the soul crushing hug. Hadrian isn’t looking up, but the old geezer’s laugh is full of restrained emotions- and he thinks he feels a teardrop on his shoulder.

“Then clearly I’ve done something right.” Hadrian breaks down on his fathers shoulder- laughing maybe, that Arcturus had saved him form confessing the most damning part of Hadrian’s entire existence. That he had been someone else, that he wasn’t as talented as he’d once been, he wasn’t just a really intelligent child but that it was a man who had become a child again and been forced to grow up.

It was something Harry Potter never could have dreamed of- living with the Blacks. It had been daunting at first, from Sirius’s experiences but the more he’d become a brother to Orion, the more he’d become a son to Arcturus- the easier it was to see them as family. To see them not as monsters but as people with flaws.

Flaws he could help with from his own understand and how desperate he’d been to have a solid, real family. To have Orion, Melania and Arcturus not as alien parents- but as the first people who taught him what family was and could be. What loyalty and love was, what protection and trust was and how much stronger one could be with it.

Hadrian had never used Orion or Arcturus, or Melania. Or any of his family members, not like someone who had reincarnated should have. Sure he had it out for Walburga, his cousin, but that was where his anger with the Blacks ended. He hadn’t wanted to watch them die and suffer so he had kept them as far removed from his operations as possible and had portrayed him as detached from his family to Neville- who had probably thought it was Hadrians love for Sirius that meant using the Black Family against him was useless.

“I’m sorry,” Hadrian rasps, leaning back and wiping his eyes. Arcturus gives him a fond smile, but there are tear tracks down his face. Hadrian ignores them.

“I’m not. I’ll wait for the answers, shall I?” He gives his father a knowing look and the old family head just shook his fondly and smiled.

“Orion told me by the stables that he didn’t want to wait for me to die again to get the answers he wants. So…” Hadrian closed his eyes and nodded. “I promised to be truthful. I’ll need your support, for it… I imagine things will get heated and I don’t doubt I’ll be hexed a few times, perhaps cursed.” Arcturus gives him a grim smile.

“I won’t let them get very far.”

“You might throw one,” he coughs out. The man gives him an inscrutable look.

“Well then you’d likely deserve it.” Hadrian chuckles, looking around the room.

“Do you like the books?” Arcturus shook his head fondly and stood up, motioning to the books.

“Lots of these have been lost for centuries, Hadrian. I’m shocked you’ve managed to find them.”

“They were in the Black Vaults and my… personal vault.”

“The Peverell Vault right?” Hadrian blinks owlishly at his father who gave him a smug grin. “I get reports from Gringotts and since you are my heir and were underage at the time, I saw when you pulled from the vaults and from what vaults you pulled from. Until you were eighteen.”

He was gaping. “Wait- you’ve known this entire time!” He’d like to think he didn’t shriek.

“Well, somewhat. I did wonder why Orion didn’t have access to it, or myself or Melania. But it would seem that it was something perhaps magical. So I let it be. You seemed to know what it was and I wasn’t allowed in the vault regardless.” Hadrian sighed and sank back into a chair. “But this isn’t the only thing I brought you in here to talk about.” Hadrian glanced at Arcturus, who looked more serious than before. “I’m sure Orion has already offered you the position of Lordship back and it would be an easy thing to do on paper, but there would be a lot of trouble in public. In fact, there will be a lot of trouble if you reveal yourself to the public. You had a lot of allies, you had a lot of enemies.”

“So I have to deal with them first?” Arcturus shook his head.

“Your enemies are our enemies, Hadrian. We’ll deal with them together and it’s best if they know of your return as late as possible. Your allies on the other hand, Dumbledore, for example, will be wary of your return.” That, Hadrian had considered. He was a dead man and his re arrival would warrant an accusation of having become an undead. Technically, it’s not far from the truth, although death would have a seizure if he told it that.

“So I need to tell Dumbledore the truth too.” Arcturus inclines his head and Hadrian doesn’t inherently have a problem with that.

“I would only advise telling your most trusted allies the truth and I would be wary with who you entrust it to.” He nods in agreement. “I would also be wary of the reaction of the Triarii and the impact it would have on some of them.” Arcturus threads his fingers together. “Riddle was a bright man but your absence has hit him more harshly than anyone else. Of course the fool attempted something that’s had him bedridden for years so I would keep an eye on his health, both magical and physical.”

“I’ll fix that.”

“I know,” his father accepts, gaze settling on him piercingly, “but if there’s one thing I’ve noticed already, it’s that you are failing to take care of yourself again.”

“Father I’m fine-”

“One hardly dies, comes back to life in another body and then faces the grief of their closest companions and remains fine.” Arcturus stared at him. “You have to fix yourself before you can start fixing anything else. So until I see that you are doing better, I’m banning you from interacting with your army.” Hadrian stared at his father, who stares him down. Everything surged up in a mix of dark emotions.

Arcturus wasn’t capable of keeping him away, Hadrian was no longer a child he could make his own decisions- and the faintest knowing that ultimately, Arcturus was right.

He’s given his orders but he doesn’t know how to keep going forward. If he’s failed twice, whose to say he won’t fail a third time and bring thousands down with him?

He’s not really in the right head space to lead an army. He has a lot of problems he iron out, a lot of things he needs to come clean about, a lot of bonds to regrow and a life that he needs to return to as well as juggling the remnants of what he’d left behind.

It’s almost embarrassing the state he’s in.

Everyone, from what he’d seen, wasn’t really functioning and his return had made them kick back to old ways that wasn’t necessarily better. They’d deferred to him from Orion, which his brother had been unready for and they weren’t putting pressure on Tom, which wasn’t pissing him off too. Aiden didn’t know where to stand, Thaddeus had looked like he’d been hit by a freight train and didn’t know what to do, Abraxas looked like he’d wanted to return to his room and had hidden all his emotions in front of his family and Riddle- well Riddle looked like he’d been about to curse anyone that dared to harm Hadrian again and had been keeping an eye on him all night. In fact, Hadrian’s absence right now was likely making him antsy and snappish, if he knew him. That would make Orion pissed off and-

Well, hopefully Sirius and Regulus could mitigate.

Reinhard, Reinhard had actually been his closest ally outside of Orion and Riddle. Sure Thaddeus had been a close confidant and had all the information- but it was Reinhard that Hadrian had often spoken to and been challenged by. It was Reinhard that had more power in the group than he realised. And the man had been lost tonight, staring on in silence. Sometimes, he thinks if not for Riddle, Reinhard might have….

“What you are really warning me about,” Hadrian says with a sigh, “is that despite all their promises, this family is in shambles and without a clear hierarchy.”

“You always were observant.” Hadrian pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “To fight an outside battle immediately would be to ignore the problems inside and that would lead us to collapse in an all out war where trust is needed more than anything else. They may have promised to help you and do everything they can, but even after your death, I don’t believe they understand the weight of the enemy.”

“Do you?”

“No,” Arcturus says simply, “but I know your strengths and weaknesses better than anyone else in that room. I’ve watched you and I know your magic better than even Riddle. There are things you cannot hide from family magics despite your mastery. It is because of your strength, and the fact you failed, that I know the enemy is bigger than he appears.”

“Yes,” he says, exhaustion now weighing on him heavily. He picks at the edge of the seat. “What if he makes a move while I’m away?”

“Your army is more than capable of avoiding our people, I think it’s more than capable of organising itself in your absence.” Hadrian winced but it was the truth.

Those people had proved he wasn’t an utter necessity to keep the organisation going and while it was hurtful, it was at least also hopeful.

“Alright,” he breathes, dropping his hand, “I’ll fix this.” His father stands and squeezes his shoulder.

“Not tonight.”

“No, not tonight.” Hadrian stood up, feeling slightly better than before as he walked to the door. He paused and glanced over his shoulder, “I love you, father.”

His father turns around, hiding a smile, “Get some rest Hadrian.”

He slowly meanders down the hallway and pauses by the stairs, looking down below at the well lit corridor. He’s partly surprised to hear laughing in his absence and his heart twists.

He won’t rejoin them then, not tonight. He doesn’t need to ruin Christmas.

He walks outside first, to get some fresh air- and to his surprise, Aiden stands next to the stable, patting one of the unnamed horses.

Hadrian walks over to him, the crunch of the snow giving him away and Aiden glances over his shoulder, brown eyes taking him in and looking back at the horses.

“This must be hard,” Aiden says conversationally, his tone light. “You’ve lost the people you’ve known but to us, you’ve never changed.” Hadrian steps up beside him and the horse snorts softly into a palm, the breath clouding in the air. They’re rugged up warm though and the lanterns were providing light and warm enough for them to be fine for the night. “And there’s more people now,” Aiden murmurs, stroking the muzzle of the horse, “for you to learn about.”

Hadrian hummed. “I’m not worried.” Aiden glanced over, surprised.

“No?”

“No. They’re family.”

“You don’t know them.”

“I know them more than one might think.”

His loyal spy watches him, observing and thinking, before returning to feeding the horse candy canes. Aiden simply handed him one and he huffs as he hands one to the drooling other horse.

“What will you do, when it’s all over?”

“Enjoy life,” he says with a shrug, having not thought that far. “Maybe help father set up a wand shop, visit Bulgaria and Greece, maybe take a look at what our Egyptian ancestors left behind. Maybe I’ll take up a teaching position at Hogwarts, there’s no avenue in life closed to me just yet.”

“You are alive right?” Aiden whispers, something like fear in his voice. “This isn’t some trick? Some… conjured up plan of Mactator?” Aiden doesn’t let him speak, continuing on, “I’m aware that if you are, you’ll still deny it, so I have no real way of knowing unless I destroy you but I couldn’t lift a finger against you before, I can’t do it now. So what am I supposed to do?” The man sounded so tired then and looked so much older for a moment that Hadrian was surprised.

The boy that used to follow him in Hogwarts, telling him the information form other people that he’d learned and keeping them up to date with gossip and details that they did and didn’t need to know- looking so focused on his work and then challenging Hadrian to a Quidditch game once every so often, trying to beat him out of the sky. The boy who used to stare Orion and used to shout at Walburga all the time and then stick to Hadrian when he got sick of the both of them and complain endlessly- while Hadrian kept his secret.

“Well,” Hadrian said softly, “I haven’t exactly given you a reason to think I am me, but I would hope that you trust my fathers judgement and his expertise.” Aiden didn’t look at him.

“Of course I trust Arcturus, more than I ever trusted my own father,” the man says gruffly, “but everyone can be blinded by emotions.”

He nods in agreement, quieting.

They stand there in silence while the horses search for more candy canes.

“I’m sorry, if it is really you,” Aiden adds at last. “It’s just… hard. All of it and it’s been hard to deal with everyone while you’ve been away. Not that you chose to be away but you-” the man just bowed his head and his sentence dropped away. “It was a blow when we lost you and then we lost Tom a few years later and Orion… well bless him but he doesn’t know how to keep a family together. He’s always been rebellious deep down so he doesn’t really know what to do. He matured a bit with Sirius and Regulus but I sometimes heard him talking to himself, just grumbling about how you’d be able to do better and well… we’ve suffered some of his decisions and he blames himself, a lot. He might be angry with you now but he’s just trying to hide his grief and he’s trying to convince himself just like I am, that it’s really you.”

“Well, I only have a few pieces of incorrigible proof to show you but I won’t show you now.”

“Promise you will show it?”

“I swear on my father.” Aiden just cupped his face in his hands and let out a long breath.

“Knowing you, we aren’t going to like this proof, are we?”

“No. No you might just hate me more than you already do.” Aiden snorts.

“Nobody hates you, you fool. It’s fucking impossible to stay mad at you for long.” Red eyes glance at him, just on the verge of crying but not quite there yet.

“I missed you,” Hadrian said quietly. Aiden’s throat bobs.

“I missed you too Hades.” He coughs. “But I do have to say I’ve stolen your brother.” Hadrian rolls his eyes, mirth creeping on his face.

“Someone had to set him straight. Although please, not in the cellar next time?” Aiden gaped, blushing furiously.

“You did not see-”

“Well I planned to grab some whiskey first and then head in but…” he trailed off and Aiden let out a cry of horror, covering his flushed face with a groan.

“Hades…”

He laughs. “Nothing me and Tom haven’t done before!”

“That doesn’t make it better!” The man shrieks. Hadrian just laughs at him and the two of them break down into laughter of embarrassment on either side.

It’s not terrible and it is a start, for the both of them.

They all just need a fresh start and Hadrian, well Hadrian needs a fucking break.

Chapter Text

Hadrian watches the light creep through the lip of the window in a hazy blue and he strokes black hair comfortingly, as they had done for a week since Christmas Night.

Both of them are awake, neither of them can comfortably sleep.

Angers, fears, depressions- anything threatening to pull them into something they can’t control. A nightmare, a soundless spiral-

Tom is draped over his lap, not resisting as Hadrian runs a hand through his hair. They haven’t really had a plan and everyone has been easy going most of the time. Falling into old habits has caused rules to relax, some trust to be replaced.

Conversations aren’t the easiest so there was a peaceful silence that had settled for now. Hadrian had taken Orion on a ride down to the river in the snow and they’d spent an entire day out on the land, exploring, observing and just reminiscing. It had been healthy and he’d helped his father with planning out a wand to make.

Today, he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to do, again.

He enjoyed being around the others, in silence. But their questions were hard to answer when he wasn’t ready and realistically, he’d never be.

So was it time to tell them? So soon?

All at once? Or does he tell them separately? No, telling them separately means he’ll leave out details when he repeats it so often.

Tom sits up, as Hadrians hand had been idle for a while and sits in front of him, leaning on an arm and watching.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers lowly, gently grasping Hadrians jaw and turning his head to face him. Hadrian stares into those brown eyes and lets out a long sigh.

“I’m afraid.”

“I’m here.”

“You might abandon me.” Tom’s brows narrow and a frown pulls at his face. His grip tightens.

“I’m not going to abandon you, not ever.” The blood pact at his throat doesn’t move and all Hadrian feels now is guilt.

He’s returned- and he’s still lying, every day, every hour.

Griffin was a mistake, even if they hadn’t done anything. Griffin-

“My heads a mess,” he rasps, casting his gaze down to the covers. “It has been for a while.” Tom captures his hands and leans forward looking up at him.

“I am with you. We will be unstoppable again, just like I promised you all those years ago.” Hadrian sighs, leaning down and placing a kiss to Toms forehead.

“You imbecile,” he murmurs. But the words lack any type of heat or aggression. Tom tucks a piece of lose black hair behind his ear and holds his hands tenderly.

If he told Harry Potter, who he’d been so long ago, the relationship he had now, he’s pretty sure he’d have made sure he wouldn’t die and start all of this.

“You’re going to learn a lot of new things today,” he says softly, his voice thick with emotion. Now, Tom looks concerned.

“I’m sure it won’t-” Hadrian covers his lovers mouth, his chest heaving with emotion.

“Don’t say that. You can’t take accountability for that and I don’t expect you to.” He clears his throat. “It’ll hurt you most,” he says at last, roughly. “I want you to know I never intended for this to happen, for that to happen, I want you to know none of this is fake and I’d die for you a hundred times over, alright? Do you understand?”

“I don’t want you to die for me,” Tom grunted. “That defeats the entire point.”

“Ever the optimist.” Riddle flicked his forehead and Hadrian rubbed it, aggrieved. He heaves a sigh and leans back against the headboard. Tom, sat there for a long moment, considering multiple avenues- of what, Hadrian can’t say. But he can see the cogs working. “I mean it Riddle.” Tom leant forward and dragged Hadrian into his lap, with strength Hadrian was largely certain he shouldn’t have.

“So do I. There’s nothing that could tear us apart.” Hadrian would just have to hope Riddles obsession would overwhelm his desire to tear them both apart.

He exhaled, long and slowly.

“If you say so,” he murmurs. He leans on Riddles shoulder, tilting his head to the side to observe the room. A hand ran soothingly up and down his back.

“I do say so,” Tom murmured, leaning on his shoulder, his free arm encircling his waist. “We faced Hogwarts together, I’m sure we can face this.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

“Hogwarts?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “We were safer, under that protection, with all those secrets.” Tom laughed.

“Darling you alone introduced me to the wizarding world. I would have never learnt of the pureblood alleys if not for you.” That was true. In all fairness, aside from Knockturn and Diagon alley, there weren’t really many other wizarding places. Aside from Hogsmeade and Hogwarts.

He’s always wanted to change that, but he’s never had the time, nor abilities. He knows that’s what Riddle wanted to do and they’d made extravagant plans once upon a time. But they’d never taken the dream anywhere.

“We should visit soon,” Hadrian mumbles. “It’ll be good to see the rest of it.”

“I still remember you showing up on your horse.”

“Hey we had a narrow window and we couldn’t run that fast.” Riddle just chuckled and yes, Hadrian remembered that day well. It was, perhaps, the first time Tom actually learned to trust him. Perhaps the first day Tom realised he couldn’t get away with violence alone. The day everything had changed.

And perhaps another day of change had come today, like so many years ago, it was time for them all to stop trusting him.

He removes himself from Riddle’s lap, even if that’s realistically the only place he wanted to be for another few hours and got changed. Tom followed him, not one to be outdressed and the two of them slipped down to the kitchen where father was already awake sipping on coffee and Thaddeus had likely just departed.

He sighed, “Tea?”

“Yes,” Riddle hummed, sliding into a seat so Hadrian made two cups and slid one towards him. Leaning against the counter, he observed the house.

When everyone was down, Kreacher delivered breakfast and Hadrian knew the others had picked up on his silence, especially when Tom gave him a look.

“I need to have a conversation with you all,” he says at last, glancing up at their faces, poking his eggs around, before dropping his fork with a sigh now that he has their attention. “In private and it’s not going to be an easy conversation, I’ll warn you of that now.”

Orion just jerked his head, finishing his food.

“Conference room?” The man asks and Hadrian shakes his head.

“We’ll head to my spare house.” The group sends him a quizzical look, his father included but Hadrian can only look away. It’s the only place with his history intact and preserved. Aside from his memories in the cave below their feet, it’s the only place he knows he can go and still have an aspect of his past follow.

Orion grabs a glass of whiskey, which Hadrian wants to advise against, but holds his tongue. After all, his brother will probably need it.

“Portkey or apparition?” Reinhard asks, leaning against the table.

“Apparition, Orion and Aiden have both gone so we can go in groups of three. I’ll take father and Tom.”

“Thaddeus and Reinhard are with me then,” Orion agrees, straightening up.

“Lucky you and I Abraxas,” Aiden jokes. The Malfoy only rolls his eyes, wandering around the table. The group organises, checks they have their wands and then Hadrian grasps Toms wrist and his father grips his arm securely.

The apparition is so quick he almost forget he’s done it but the blistery winter wind outside certainly reminds him and they stare up at the house. The others arrive in spontaneous cracks and they all stare up at the inconsequential building.

Hadrian tucks his chin into his jumper and walks up to the door.

Edwin isn’t inside, he’s likely out with some other vampires, learning their ways of life. The vampire isn’t reliant on Hadrian any more thankfully and he hopes it stays that way, despite the comfort of their strange relationship, he’s already struggling with everyone else and frankly, Edwin wasn’t supposed to stay around as long as he did.

It was only for Griffin.

The first level is simple, boring. Nothing has changed and the air is a bit stale so he cracks the windows open slightly.

Apart from the extensive wards and protective spells- it was a simple house.

He takes them up to the second floor.

“I’ll give you a house tour later, it’s nothing impressive though.” Abraxas snorts.

“No, it’s no manor.” Hadrian hums and takes them to the reception room and they all settle around on the furniture that’s at least comfortable and organised for all of them.

He can be proud that he hadn’t at least forgotten about them when he’d made it. In a way, he’d always planned for them to know but had never known how to broach it.

They sit down and organise themselves. Aiden sits between Reinhard and Orion, Orion sits next to his father and Riddle sits next to Thaddeus and Abraxas.

They’re all avidly listening and Hadrian’s distress must be obvious because they settle a bit on the looks, glancing around until he’s ready.

“You all thought I was a seer,” he says at last and their attention returns to him like he’s the only thing they can see in the room. “You were wrong, I hold no abilities to see the future, or to predict certain events, I’m going off of my memory.”

“Your memory,” Orion repeats slowly, brow furrowing. There were sceptical looks all around and Hadrian toys with his hands again, shoulders hunched.

“Yes,” he says curtly. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet and I know a few of you have, I am the Master of Death, I possess all of the hallows and so many years ago that is what Grindelwald was trying to achieve in an aim to subdue and rule over the muggles and muggleborns.”

“You can’t die,” Orion confirms.

“Not quite, I have a choice in the matter.” He clears his throat, uncertainty a turmoil inside of him. “I can chose to not die, I can chose to die, or I can choose to… travel through time.” He holds up a hand so that the room doesn’t explode and Reinhard and Thaddeus bristle. He ignores Toms calculating stare altogether. “Before you ask, that is not what happened this time and,” he adds roughly, glaring at Orion, “I’ve only done it once.”

“You’ve travelled through time, once,” Aiden repeats, frowning. The man doesn’t look pleased but in all fairness, neither does the rest of the room. His father included. But he powers on.

“Yes. I’ve died too many times to count.” That ruffled feathers, he didn’t bother telling them he died during his Hogwarts years too while he was running the army. “I think,” he says slowly, “someone here can guess who I was.” He looks at Orion, who had paled drastically.

“You weren’t a Black,” Orion repeats. “Back then.”

“No.”

“You were Hadrian Potter,” Orion repeats, almost in a daze, pointing at him, “you were Hadrian James fucking Potter. Weren’t you?”

“Harry James Potter,” he says coldly. “Yes.” The room is silent and Reinhard is the one who asks,

“Who were we then?” He clasps his hands together and shrugs.

“You were still the Knights of the Walpurgis.” He hesitates. “Under Lord Voldemort.”

“I abandoned that name during Hogwarts,” Tom spoke lowly.

“I helped you abandon it,” Hadrian points out, cracking his knuckles and finger joints. “I wasn’t there with all of you in that timeline.”

“But my brother would have still-” Orion cuts himself off and Hadrian came to a conclusion to that a long time ago. He clenches his hands even tighter and mutters,

“I- he likely died.” Orion is clenching the edge of the sofa and Arcturus is struggling in the corner, Hadrian can tell.

He feels like a parasite that’s made a home in a life he wasn’t supposed to be in.

“So, what did we do?”

“By the time I was born all the Potters were dead,” he says slowly, “Abraxas was dead, Reinhard may or may not have been alive, Orion was dead and so was… Arcturus.” The room bristles and magic is growing thick in the air, uncomfortable with knowing their deaths would have already been upon them, or most of them, without Hadrians intervention.

“Who else was there?” Tom asks, his voice frighteningly hollow.

“Lots,” he says simply, finally getting the strength to look Tom in the eyes. “You were the Dark Lord.” Toms eyes flash red and the man sits up fully, gripping the edge of the couch and seemed to take a moment, before he asked,

“Tell me what happened.”

“You made eight horcruxes, or at least seven intentionally, one not.” Riddle doesn’t say anything, deathly still. Thaddeus only whispers,

“Eight is too many.”

“Seven too many,” Hadrian agrees lowly. Watching Tom. He leant back in his chair, slumping with defeat. He was exhausted already and they hadn’t even begun. He cleared his throat. “I was one of them.”

Toms fingers twitch and Harry is pretty sure he sees agony in his eyes. “I made you a horcrux,” he repeated. “I made a living horcrux.”

“On accident. You intended to kill me.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Hadrian snorts with dark irony. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t me, Riddle. I was a one year old potter child who had been prophecised to be your enemy.”

“That prophecy was fake,” Abraxas argues. “It wasn’t real.”

“It was back then. It was real, the prophecy was hidden in the Department of Mysteries. It was Trelawney who spoke it.”

“I think you need to start from the beginning,” Orion interrupts. Eyes glaring. “From the very, very beginning.”

So Hadrian sighed and told them about Godric Hallow, one James Potter and one Lily Potter and he told them about the thirty-first of October. He told them about his muggle relatives and how he didn’t know. He told them about Hogwarts, he told them about every event, he told them all the details, he told them about Hermione, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy… Draco Malfoy was a hard subject to cover. He really was, for numerous reasons but he’d get to those. He told them all of Lord Voldemort, he told them about how successful they’d been, he told them about Dumbledore, the Invisibility Cloak and how he’d killed Quirrel, the philosophers stone and then he told them about Riddles first horcrux. He spoke about Ginny, the basilisk, the chamber of secrets, he told them about Lockhart, he told them about Snape and his magic.

Sirius was more difficult to cover. He told them how Sirius was blamed for the deaths of James and Lily when it was Pettigrew. He spoke about Lupin and Buckbeak and the time turner and the executioner and the dementors. He told them about his Bogart, he told them of capturing Pettigrew and the fact Sirius was on the run- he knew this hurt Orion, deeply. But never did he interrupt.

Forth year he spoke about Barty and Mad-eye, he spoke about the tournament and Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. He talked about Cedric and Viktor and Fleur and he spoke about the dragons, his first task, he spoke about the lake, he spoke about the maze and

about the graveyard, quietly. Because that graveyard was worse than they gave it credit for. Tom almost raged out the room but he spoke about Dolohov and the room snorted in irony. The man was beyond useless but that ended that.

His fifth year is harder to cover. But he talks about the Order of the Phoenix, how everyone knew Voldemort was back but couldn’t prove it. He talked about Umbridge and the venom from his voice surprises them. They know her from the Ministry- he wants her dead as soon as possible. He talks about Dumbledores Army, Snapes terrible fucking occlumency lessons. He talks about the dreams Voldemort sent him, of Arthur Weasleys attack and then he talks about the battle in the Department of Mysteries. He talks about Bellatrix, how it was the first time he’d cast the crucio- after Sirius Black had fallen through the veil. Orion stopped breathing then and half the room had to breathe too. When asked about Regulus, he told Orion quietly that Regulus had died to Voldemorts Inferi to get the horcrux, the Slytherin locket.

He then spoke about Dumbledore and Voldemorts duel and how at last, the Ministry acknowledged Voldemorts return.

Sixth year isn’t any easier.

He tells them he learnt more of Voldemorts past back then. He learned of why he wanted to attain immortality, he told them of the Half-blood Prince’s book. He told them of the hunt for the horcruxes, he reveals that Draco Malfoy had been tasked with killing Dumbledore. The unbreakable vow between Snape and Narcissa he doesn’t know much of but he does know. He goes through the Battle of the astronomy tower and Dumbledores demise by both Draco and Snape. The Half-blood Prince was Snape.

And then he goes horcrux hunting with Hermione and Ron in his seventh year rather than returning.

He talks about the polyjuice battle and his eventual escape, he talks about Hedwigs death. They learn about the Deathly Hallows and talk to Xenophilius Lovegood but are betrayed. They are captured and taken to Malfoy Manor where Hermione was tortured by Bellatrix. He also jokingly admits it’s probably a good thing Reinhard didn’t marry. But that’s only met with silence.

Dobby died, they blow up half of Gringotts and escape on dragon-back, which admittedly gets a few impressed looks. They return to Hogwarts for the Battle of Hogwarts, he tells them about Voldemorts ultimatum and Tom said flatly,

“That’s the first time you died.” He nods. His voice is already hoarse and most of the day has wasted away, but nobody moves to get food or leave, they’re all too horrified to do that. He talks about Snapes death and then he talks about the resurrection stone and then he talks about his death.

There’s outrage there. Arcturus silently rages, magic crackling. That Dumbledore had meant for Hadrian to walk to his death so long ago makes them all tick the wrong way but they’re angry as well because he still stands up for Dumbledore. He still sees Dumbledore as a strong wizard, a smart wizard. And he is, he inherently is. He’s stronger in his prime than Tom could ever be. Dumbledore is a one in the millennia. It was him now and it was someone else back then.

He talks about his experience of death for a bit before explaining he chose to come back and he fought Voldemort again.

He describes the duel and then he describes the Priori Incantatem they achieved, before it ended in Harry’s victory. When he won.

“When you got the Elder Wand,” Thaddeus murmurs, dark eyes distant.

“No, when I became the master of death.” He looks at Orion, swallowing, “at seventeen.”

“You lied to me,” the man says calmly.

“I didn’t lie. I told you I achieved it when I was seventeen.” Orion looked away.

“What happened after?” Reinhard asks lowly.

He exhales then and tells them of all they lost after the battle, the deaths. Lupin was dead, Fred was dead, Tonks died- leaving Teddy Lupin in his care.

“We all returned for an eighth year,” he says slowly. Fiddling with his hands again, a leg cross over his knee. “It wasn’t the same. The staff was skeletal, the student body abysmal but we all connected better than before. But nobody died during the year so that better.” He takes a deep breath, recounting what he did next. “I suppose I can give you an abridged version of the years later. I applied for the Auror Force and got in. I was assigned with Draco Malfoy and we were together for… fifteen years. They never changed out our team. I suppose we worked too well for that, with a 97% success rate we were the best in Europe and frequently got sent overseas, here and there.”

“And Neville?” Orion asked coldly.

“Married Luna Lovegood. They were both a part of our unit. Neville was the Master of Herbology and was useful when we needed plants, potions anything really. Luna was our desk help, giving identities, files, history, anything we needed. She also could see some glimpses of the future” Hadrian leant back and stared at the ceiling. “They were good,” he said simply. “Good friends back then.” He sighs. “To this day I don’t really know what went wrong, one day he went missing, seven years into work. I was… twenty-six, he disappeared. Two years, we presumed he was dead and in the time Luna had a son-”

“Nevan Longbottom,” Aiden murmured, glancing up. “The statues are of the children of your friends.” Hadrian nods slowly.

“Yes. Though Neville was my friend, then he wasn’t. We did a lot in his absence, worked and worked… Draco got married to Astoria Greengrass. It’s funny, we didn’t actually know he was missing. Ron and I went into the files to look for another case, a different case and we found Nevilles. He’d been filed missing but everyone had assumed he’d had a major argument with Luna and left.” He exhales harshly. This part was the hardest part to talk about, clogged his throat with emotion so he explains some of it, roughly. “I went to visit it myself after Ron pointed out that there were missing people associated to his case, who went to look for him. We got reports from Godrics hollow, team members who had found something wrong or… I don’t really remember the details anymore. But I went to visit alone.

He’d restored it and glamoured it. Some mental games he was playing,” he grumbles, remembering it darkly. “The first thing wrong I noticed was the eyes of the paintings followed me, the second was when Neville appeared and started acting strange. Then he summoned the dead and I fought. Draco arrived and engaged with them,” Hadrian says quietly and fell into silence as a headache brewed. He looked away and pursed his lips together tightly, face drawn and his magic subdued. “Neville used the Potter Family skeletons to tear Draco and I to pieces. I had to hide in the bathroom and keep him alive for five hours until the other aurors came. There was no way in and no way out, not easily and I wasn’t as magically adept as I am now back then. It’s really only because of that incident that I am the way I am now.”

“And after?” Arcturus asks slowly. Hadrian flicked his wrist, numbers faintly appearing.

“Tomorrow,” he concedes. It’s already late evening and he’s exhausted, his voice is sore and rough.

It’s not just him though, everyone else looks like they’ve seen neville in person again.

Tom stands and he goes first, not looking at Hadrian while he does so. Nobody follows him for a long moment but then Aiden gets up and disappears.

Then one by one they all go upstairs to the art room and he keeps his attention on the room. Arcturus follows with a solemn nod his way and Hadrian doesn’t move. They can piece some things together on their own but he’ll tell them all tomorrow.

He sits there long after when they all walk past the room without a word to him and out the door, disappearing with painful cracks.

Arcturus lingers in the doorway last.

“Your mother would be proud,” the man says quietly. He thinks of Melania and then realises that he’s never really thought of Lily as his mother.

“I know she loved art,” Hadrian said softly, not looking at Arcturus. “I wish I could have shown her.” His father doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

“I’m sure she knows. I’m proud of you.” Hadrian looks up, tears threatening to spill and Arcturus, as ill as he looks, just smiles and disappears down the hallway.

He’s left alone in his own home and…

Hadrian’s voice is sore and his eyes are wet but he only feels empty now rather than relief.

He knew he wouldn’t be well recieved.

It isn’t easy to learn your son, friend, brother, lover, lived another life. Loved other people, had other friends- had no family. To learn that that person had once considered everyone in the room an enemy didn’t help things.

He hadn’t even brought up Griffin.

Griffin. who arrives and scoops him up, pulling the fractured pieces together as Hadrian shattered.

The vampire doesn’t leave his side-

And Hadrian doesn’t bother to pray that they’ll all forgive him.

Chapter Text

“The only reason people want to be masters of the past

is so they can change the future” - Harry James Potter

Harry smothered his breathing with the sleeve of his auror robes, squeezing his eyes shut and listening to the creaking darkness, the quiet groan of the house. The darkness pulled at every corner and there was a distinctive wrongness in the air. Everything was wrong, off balance- off set by so much death.

He can’t breath but he wants to smash something, he wants to break the house, set it on fire- but he can’t.

Draco is barely breathing in his arms, chest dipping and rising too shallowly and too far apart for it to mean anything other than he’s barely holding on.

It’s not a surprise, there’s blood everywhere.

There’s scratches that line his body and his robes are torn, revealing a disfigured body beneath. Harry still clutches at him like Hagrid had once clutched his own body, like it might make a difference. But the difference this time, was that this one was still breathing and had no chance of coming back after. Once Harry let go- once Harry stopped bleeding his own life force into Draco’s body- the wizard would die.

There was a clatter on the stairs and Harry’s breathing hitched. The spell would break if he moved from the bathroom. He’d locked the door and they sat in the tub, blood everywhere. Harry would never get it out of his mind, ever.

Draco was too pale and it was only now that Harry was realising he’d actually gotten a pretty good tan during their work- and now it was gone, faded- pale, ghostly. Long pale white hair was covered in blood and Harry wanted to sob.

It was all to similar to what he’d done so many years ago, out of fear, out of accusation when all of it had been so fucked up and wrong.

He wants to shout and ask why he deserved all this bullshit-

Instead, he breathes shallowly into Draco’s hair, breathing that stupid shampoo he always uses- and blood- but he focuses on the shampoo.

If he died here too it would be less painful.

But he listens to the sharp intakes- and he can’t do anything to ease it- to make it easier. He trembles and keeps holding- keeps feeding magic to regenerate the blood lost, to keep the heart beating-

It’s out of desperation. It’s not a spell, it’s wordless, it’s wand-less- it’s the bare essence of magic. Emotion and intent.

He needs Draco alive because there’s words left unsaid between them, he needs his partner and if he survives he’d stay solo or retire as an Auror.

There’s scratching and clawing at the door and Harry trembles, hiding his face in Draco’s neck, coating his face in blood.

He’d throw up, if he wasn’t so terrified and frozen to do so.

He doesn’t breathe but the wards hold. The bodies on the other side can’t reach them- Harry had finally tapped into that power he was supposed to have defeated Voldemort with. Power that flowed from him into the walls and floors of the bathroom and into Draco-

It’s draining and he feels light headed. He wasn’t supposed to do it like this but no one taught him how to manage the magic he has inside- the wells that never dry and that could be flooded if he didn’t use magic for a period of time.

He’d taken to using magic frequently out of necessity to control it.

Draco had been helping-

“It’ll be fine,” Harry whispers, his voice coming out a bit too high for his liking. Draco doesn’t hear him. “I’m sure Ron will bring his squad and we’ll all be fine. We’ll go back to seeing Pansy and Blaise on the weekends in the city, we’ll go back to fighting over cases we want to take and we’ll go back to being Potter and- Malfoy.” His voice broke but Draco didn’t hear him.

Harry knows a dead man when he feels one. Draco isn’t there yet but he’s teetering on that see-saw that was steadily coming back down and that grandfather clock was ticking. Like the one Petunia had once bought but had become irate by it’s ominous tock and the way Harry had stared at it. Like the one in the Malfoy family house, counting down the time left for the family to live. With Draco, the House died.

Without Draco, the main line of the Malfoys was finished. Perhaps that’s why his mother tried to thrust him into a marriage with Astoria. Hell, they’d broken it off a few months ago but- he grips Draco’s body, shuddering in the fucking bathtub.

They weren’t at the Malfoy mansion, if they were, Harry could use the family magic to defend them like Grimmauld Place did.

But this was Godrics Hollow. He’d rebuilt it out of respect and for some cash, renting it out to some wizarding families. They’d come to investigate their claims- and this was how it was turning out.

He just had to breathe.

Because he had to stay alive so that Draco had a chance.

There was a slight stutter in Draco’s heart and Harry jerked- the force of magic rushing into Draco’s body doubled and it jump started his heart out of surprise- earning a flinch and a painful wheeze.

Harry whimpered.

“You can’t leave me you bastard,” he swore, staring into the dark. But his glasses were smashed on the floor somewhere. If not for the memories he’d been given so many years ago, he’d have not remembered the way up the stairs to the room. “I love you you son of a bitch, you can’t leave me,” Harry confessed with a low groan. His own injuries were twinging in pain and old scars were itching, like bugs crawling across his skin.

His heart jumps at that thought, racing painfully and his skin moves strangely- he’s in a full blown panic attack now- the magic to Draco is stuttering and through the haze, the strange haze where he isn’t really there, he pushes more.

More because Draco’s heart can’t stop, the man can’t stop- he’d always held his head so high everywhere, always came to work perfectly groomed and Harry had always known the only reason Draco was anywhere near the Auror force was because Harry was in it and had promised to be his partner. Because Draco had always felt like he’d owed Harry one that day, when he’d killed Voldemort and no matter how many times Harry told him they were even, from Narcissa sparing his life, the others killing the horcruxes- Draco had always felt like he’d needed to prove something.

Perhaps it was to prove he was worthy of Harry’s attention, to be by his side- when that’s the only place Harry would have ever really let him be.

He can’t see anything, everything is blurry so he’ll lose in combat unless his muscle memory spasms into action.

What he’s pouring into Draco isn’t enough. Magic alone can’t save a wizard. Pouring it into a broken vessel is like pouring water into a cracked vase. It’s lasting a little, it’s sort of working- but the rest of it is in the air, in his blood that’s trailing out of him.

The air in the room was charged with magic, heavy and oppressing. It’s just there, it’s failed in it’s purpose but unless Harry can get his shit together and realise that he needs to direct it back- it won’t do anything.

Breathing it in is doing something, for both of them. Harry is breathing in some of the expelled magic and it’s returning to his core but it’s not coming in at the same rate it’s going out. He’s in trouble. This kind of exhaustion that he’s fending off will have him in Mungo’s for weeks. He just hopes when he wakes up and opens his eyes, there’s a platinum blonde beside him.

It must have been hours later, when Harry was barely breathing and bent over Draco, in a haze of nothing, that the door opens. They feel his pulse and then they feel Draco’s- weak, incredibly weak but Hadrian is holding onto him like it’s life and death.

Because that’s what it is-

He groans a no when someone tries to pull him out and his bloodless hands grip Draco tighter- He hears faint murmurings but his mind is entirely focused on Draco-

Someone casts a spell and he faintly feels it rebound and then there are more hands- but they aren’t pulling at Harry- they’re pulling Draco out of his grip-

He swings with his fist, his wand lost somewhere and he feels his flesh collide with bone and there’s a solid sound and he grasps for Draco and stumbled blindly through the people- dead or alive. They’re likely aurors but they’d dragging Draco to the door- and quickly.

He stumbles and someone grabs him.

“Steady- steady,” someone says, casting a spell. “Careful Potter you’ve…” the words drift away as Harry lays eyes on one of the corpses they’d laid down to get to them. He saw blurry smudges of purple and it was glowing, otherwise he never would have caught it, or noticed.

“Pull him out!” A voice ordered and there were so many of those corpses that had been pushed aside- they weren’t dead, his magic told him they were dead- or they were? There were no beating hearts- no rushing blood, no sound. But there was magic and that magic was keeping them alive like he’d kept Draco alive-

He staggered out and blearily looked around for Draco or a body draped in white but there weren’t any. There were Aurors everywhere, but not body draped in white.

He saw a ruffle of red hair and knew Ron was there- he threw up on the ground, blood and grime and gore- he could still smell the blood, still feel the beating heart- in fact the sound had drowned out all other sounds and even now, it tolled in his ears- everything was quiet and loud- far away like he was a part of a different place- like he was there through the pensieve and not really there.

Someone pulled him upright again and slung his arm around their shoulder and he staggered after them- or with them.

He isn’t sure.

But he felt the squeeze in his abdomen that hinted at apparition and then he stumbled into a place of white and Harry stood there in blood and gore, staining its floors.

“By Merlins beard,” he heard Ron groan.

The place is full, choked by patients and people- he can hear the screams but he can hear a heartbeat-

He staggers out of Rons grip and forward to a place curtained off and there’s lots of shouting there- he almost runs into someone who goes to shout at him and then pauses and Ron caught up, apologising and dragged Harry further down and someone was carted away on a bed-

His heart lurched and he stopped moving, Ron cursed-

He stared down at it- he felt dizzy, he staggered back and someone different gripped his arm, with different magic. Magic that was made to work on different bodies.

A healer-

He was dizzy in this strange state where he was aware of all the magic in people and it was giving him a cracking headache-

He squeezed his eyes shut and let himself be led but a part of him didn’t move from that closed off quarter.

He was stripped unceremoniously and he hadn’t taken stock of his own wounds- and did it even matter? He’d just come back when he died but no one but Draco knew that yet.

So they shoved him into the bed with heavy shouts and somehow, no matter what spell they used, he stayed awake. Immune, from their magic. He could feel his magic deflecting it- he didn’t absorb it.

They tried to give him a pain numbing potion but it sat in his stomach, not taking effect. He’s not sure what’s wrong with him, he just knows that this shouldn’t be happening.

Of course in this state, he didn’t feel the pain of his limbs either, or perhaps he was past the state of exhaustion. So long as his body didn’t go into shock he’d be fine.

So he stayed awake but not aware of them attempting to heal his body- but his attention was listening to that heartbeat- it was stuttering and when it did, Harry shoved magic towards it and it restarted.

People came in to make it stop but it didn’t work.

He’s vaguely aware of them moving him to the same ward as Draco, because the sound became greater. A dull thrum. Incredibly dull.

His mind wants him to sleep, he can feel it- the blistering headache that pains him in time with each beat of the heart.

It hurts.

But he has to pay attention. They aren’t saving him- they’re losing him.

There’s a weak flicker of magic, a soft, pale blue tendril like a weak Patronus that can’t take shape entirely. A goodbye- a goodbye that Harry can’t take.

Draco has always been there. From his first shop in Diagon Alley, to the train, to the first step into Hogwarts. In each and every foreign place he’d been he’d taken Draco first. Draco had also been at the end of the events. Leaving Hogwarts, the last train trip, the last visit to the Room of Requirement, the last visit to Hogsmeade and the last trip to the Forbidden Forest. He’d come into life and Harry hadn’t expected him to leave so soon, to leave before he did.

He almost couldn’t take it.

He felt his own heart falter in his chest- abruptly ending and shuddering back to life with a desperate prayer from someone’s wand.

Draco’s magic doesn’t outrightly disappear, it stays with him for a while and with tears, Harry reached out with his own- he isn’t ready. Not to say goodbye, but he can’t leave Draco alone.

He can’t leave anybody alone to die- he tries to reassure Draco in the way he knows how- that he knows Death is gentle, is soft and that one gets the closure needed.

It’s the coming back to life part that ends it all, so Harry’s never gotten his. He’s gotten the closure from the Resurrection Stone, for his lost family.

He doesn’t want to pick up that stone and it’s Draco’s face he finds staring back at him.

He can’t take it.

His Auror partner, whose both risked his life and saved it so many times, who has helped him rise and rise, like a Phoenix and never once minded being in his shadow despite the fact Harry tried endless time to help him up. Draco would just watch from a distance and smile, as if he was proud he’d helped Harry get that far but would always sniff in disdain if he caught Harry looking.

The endless amounts of herbal tea that were in Grimmauld for those late night cases where they stayed up well past what was considered appropriate.

Those days where they’d watching movies-

He can’t take it.

In fact, he’s pretty sure he hears his own soul splitting right down the middle.

The silence that left has him staring up at the ceiling of his own ward- the silence-

Silence- silence silence-

It was everywhere and now Harry couldn’t breathe.

Where was that beat- where was it-

He’s pretty sure he’s flung himself upright because his feet are cold and his body are heavy- he’s hit something with his knees and then he’s reaching for a hand- a cold, limp hand covered in blood that dripped-

He hears the droplet hit the puddle that had gathered-

There’s no magic.

There’s no beat.

He’s gone.

And Harry can only hear his own screams.

Chapter Text

“Alexander the Great really?” Tom muses, picking through the study that looks like a wind storm has swept through it. Hadrian leant on the desk and Tom observed the pinched look on his lovers face.

“I’m simply researching,” the man muttered, tangling his fingers deep in his hair, a scowl on his face. “What brings you to my abode?”

“It’s been three days since you’ve left your room,” he responds pointedly, moving to his side and dancing a finger up the nape of the mans neck, smirking as Hadrian, even in the throes of his obsession- shivers, distracted. “I’ve taken it upon myself to ensure you are not a carcass in your room.” Hadrian simply scoffs and Tom peers over his shoulder at the papers.

It was Alexander the Great and he couldn’t help the tendril of jealousy that swept through him. The muggle had lived centuries ago and yet captivated Hadrian so thoroughly that he chose the King over him.

“If I became a King would you pay more attention to me?” He murmurs into Hadrian’s ear. It earns him a swat to his chin.

“I’m busy Tom.”

“Unless you are taking notes on becoming Hadrian the Great I think you can afford to take a break.” Hades tapped the back of his hand on the table, a habit he had when he was trying to convince himself that Tom was right but everything else wanted to continue.

Tom sighed.

He didn’t like times like this.

For all that he’d preached about studying during Hogwarts and knowing everything, Hadrian took it to a new level when he was desperate.

“Hades, you must eat dinner tonight.”

“I am busy,” Hadrian snaps, shooting Tom a dark, green eyed glare. “I have to-”

“Neglect your health and our relationship?” He lifted a brow, Hadrian falters, working his bottom lip between his teeth but turned back to the pages of cursive writing that was done in red ink.

“That was not my intention,” Hadrian responded pointedly.

“No, I doubt it was but that is what’s happening.” He plucks the quill from Hadrian’s hand, earning a protest before he stoppered the ink, put the quill in it’s placeholder and used a charm to dry the ink and marked the page in the thick muggle volume with a bookmark before closing it. “You can tell me over dinner what you’ve been researching.”

“I can’t-”

“I’ve said it once and I’ve said it before,” Tom growls lowly, his frustration flaring up, “you can tell me anything Hades. There is not a thing in the world you cannot tell me that I would hold against you. It is only the secrets you keep that worsen this fear you have.” Hadrian stared and Tom didn’t bother to wait. He gripped Hadrian’s arm and pulled the infuriating wizard upright. “But you seem ever certain whatever you will not tell me will kill us all.”

“It probably will,” Hadrian muttered snidely, “especially if you keep pulling me away from my work.”

“The world is not going to fall apart in an hour.”

“You do not know that.”

“If you are so interested in muggles, perhaps I should take you to a muggle therapist.”

“I would only go if you went too, but your pride wouldn’t allow it,” Hadrian snapped, yanking his arm from Tom’s hand.

It takes a moment for Tom to slam his lover against his wall, his breathing heavy, his anger palpable. He takes a long, calming breath and leans on his arms that cage Hadrian in.

“You are being stupid.”

“Do not tell me that-” Tom covered Hadrian’s mouth and stared at green eyes that burned with anger. A hand gripped his wrist, warning him- Tom hardly heeded it.

“You are being stupid,” he repeats. “If you will not tell me about this thing that worries you so, I cannot help you.” He waits for a beat, but Hadrian makes no move to reveal anything. “For all my greatness, Hades, I cannot see all the problems in the world and locate the single thing that is causing you to sequester yourself away from everyone for days at a time every few weeks. You are driving your father and brother mad and Nott has asked me far too many questions today. So I will be merciful and give you one more chance to explain yourself.” He removed his hand and waited.

Half of him expected Hadrian to relent, to give his answer- for it to be so terribly dull and the other half knew that the only other thing that Hadrian would be worried about, would be on such a scale that everyone should be concerned- and it would be something he’d take on alone.

Just like that time they’d taken on Grindelwald together, albeit temporarily.

He still remembers that moment, it’s likely engraved into his bones somewhere close to his heart. He hasn’t seen magic on that scale from Hadrian in a long time, a part of him aches greatly for it.

Hadrians head thunks against the wall in defeat, his gaze pinned on the ceiling.

“It’s nothing,” Hadrian says at last, his voice flat. “It’s just an obsession I can’t get rid of.”

This is one of those moments Tom wanted to break their agreement and use Legilimency to find out what the real truth was.

After Hadrians outburst with his mother at the table a few days ago, Tom had expected something big to come up but nothing had. Even when Tom had patiently waited.

Ekkathion had not been forthcoming either, despite the fact he knows Hadrian and the dragon speak.

Tom considers this lover of his, who seemed so adamant in not trusting his skills and knowledge. Who came only when someone else needed something and never when he needed help. Tom does wonder where the Hogwarts boy who had challenged him to the heavens and back had gone. Where the lover who had made everyone run in circles in his hand, had gone.

Was it something he had done? Or had that boy been an act?

He sighs and leans forward, running a hand down the wall to encircle Hadrian’s waist and he settled his head on Hadrian’s shoulder, his ear against the mans neck.

He listened to the steady heartbeat beneath the skin and considered another plan of approach.

“Do you not trust me?” Hadrian’s fingers twitched, Tom eyed the stone wall, listening to the heartbeat as it picked up.

“Are you an idiot?” Hadrian demanded instead, his voice reverberating through his chest and through Toms head.

“I’m quite sure I’ve heard myself called a genius here or there. I believe you may have called me so once or thrice too.” Hadrian grumbled something Greek and Tom rolls his eyes. “If you’ve managed to pick up the language from reading alone then I think that proves my point more than anything.”

Hadrian scoffs. “A ridiculous notion, both that it proves your point and that I’ve picked up the language from reading. I have a Greek point of contact I learn from.”

“Is this to do with becoming Hadrian the Great?” He gets prodded in the side for that and he grunts his irritation.

“Stop that, it would take a miracle to be a ‘Great’ in this generation anyway and I’m a wizard.”

“Merlin was called Great.”

“Yes, the great-est wizard, not Merlin the Great.”

“Must have been Merlin the Amazing,” Tom snickers into Hadrians shoulder. The man huffs, a several fingers finally trailing up and down Tom’s back.

“You are such an idiot.”

“Just promise me if your life is ever in danger, you’ll tell me the truth.” Hadrian laughed and buried his nose into Tom’s hair.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’d be the first person I’d tell.”

Tom did not bring up the fact it wasn’t a promise to say anything.

He tears apart the study, searching for that book. His eyes hurt, likely from being away for so long without rest. Perhaps from the fact he’s been scouring the damned Black study like a man possessed. The irony, is not lost on him.

He yanked open several floorboards, searches hidden compartments- there is far too many.

He finds every single other file but the one he wants.

Tom isn’t a fool.

It is the one thing he cannot be called despite all events that have occurred.

A fool could not attempt to speak with the dead.

A fool could not maintain the state of their ruined vessel.

A fool, would have laughed at what Hadrian had said today.

Tom is no fool.

Because everything in his entire life has finally made sense.

All missing pieces, all shards of information he’d considered and discarded to some far off parts in his memory, finally had a place. A memory to fit into- a moment that completed it in tandem.

Tom had not meant to leave Hadrian alone after that, but his feet had been moving before he’d truly considered anything else.

That book.

Alexander the Great.

Where was it-

He spots a trail in the floor, marking of an old table of sorts.

It’s half a metre over from the current desks position and likely would have been pressed up against the bookcase.

Tom pulls out his wand and lifts the current desk over against the wall and notices the same markings in the floorboards.

Hadrian had reorganised his office at some point.

He prises up the floor and scans for spells.

Several repellent charms and several darker hexes.

He tears through them and then reaches underneath into the compartment and his hand brushes up against an old book.

It must be meaningless to Hadrian now, with how many other things had occurred.

He yanked it out and the heavy book is dust laden but a spell cleans it.

Hadrians old diary.

Where he’d taken all his notes on Alexander the Great.

His heart is racing too fast, his blood is roaring in his ears and he feels as if he’s going to go mad.

Hadrian had known Tom can’t read his cursive hand without thorough investigation, and certainly not at a glance. Hadrian wrote it in an old calligraphic scrawl, looping with too many inflections and serifs.

Tom had always thought it was an odd hobby, one of the mans quirks.

Gods, he should know by now nothing is ever done without a reason.

It’s unreadable without being close up, without directly leaning over and attempting to read the entire thing. Tom had been distracted every time he’s seen it but now- now?

He opens the book, peels open old pages and the ink is red.

Red ink is harder to read than black ink against pale paper.

He doesn’t particularly know where to start- so he reads the beginning of the first page.

April 23rd 1946

It’s late, I am more than certain I should be asleep. I cannot sleep.

I suppose all things considered it’s a miracle I haven’t touched coffee, by the hells how I miss it. The stupid house elves don’t know what it is and refuse to go to non-wizarding areas so I suppose I must suffer through London if I’m to find an appropriate type of bean. Though I’d have no idea how to go about turning the bean into coffee. Utterly ridiculous. Perhaps I should invent a spell. (1954 - I’m seriously considering it)

Tom is asleep beside me, it’s comforting that he’s near though I worry he’ll be wrapped up with you-know-what.

Do forgive me for the pun.

I’ve reconsidered several avenues of my approach.

I can’t say when I first opened my eyes here that this would be the turn of events but here we are. Here we are. Well Hermione, I’m sure you’d hate me for this development but I have to say, I wouldn’t change it for a thing. Not a thing.

Well, apart from perhaps a world and a timeline where Neville hasn’t gone mad, I do miss him but I hate him in not-so-equal measure.

We’re staying in Black Manor for now, I’m considering buying a town house in London. Out of the way, discreet, undercover. A place to work in secret, so to say. I feel I will be in great need of it some time soon and I cannot keep my crafts secret. I don’t particularly feel my crafts aren’t something to be admired but I hardly want the questions that come with a completed painting.

What is it? What does it represent? Or even worse, who are they?

Am I supposed to tell them? Is that the right thing to do?

They say ignorance is bliss.

Tom breaks his gaze away, rubbing his eyes that ache viciously.

His chest heaves as he draws breath and then he flips a few years ahead, picking another random page.

November 17th 1945

Griffin is… useful. It was not my intention to keep onto him for so long but throughout an unfortunate series of events, I have ended up with a vast number of debts and favours from numerous dark beings.

By the seven hells Remus you’d writhe if you found out who I met the other day.

It does turn out that if you have enough vampires seek you out, the father of all vampires comes to see who you are.

The Count is not a nice person, and is not someone I can say that I inherently want to meet very often but like Griffin and many others, he has his uses. He now owes me several debts but I am getting off topic.

To recount the events and to keep events as true as possible, I have killed Lord Kreas and a lot of the Vampires have been freed. Many of them have joined the Underground in alliance to me, I have yet to organise them or train them. ( December 1948- That is underway )

Lord Kreas was connected to the Undead circuit but I have thus devised he had no relations to Neville. I suspect Marquis Edganine to be the only other who Neville has contacted and I plan to attack him January of 1946. The wizard hides amongst the muggles and lives lavishly in a muggle castle in Edinburgh but I suspect much darker doings to be occurring in that locale.

Lord Kreas was not killed by my direct hand but by Griffin himself and so the Ministry will have no evidence of my doings on the premises when they are at last alerted to Lord Kreas’s unfortunate demise.

While a failure from a timeline standpoint, it was an altogether moral success. I have reached out to a coven to take the remaining twelve vampires and have received a letter of acceptance however Griffin, an Elder Vampire, has refused to join the coven.

I suspect hidden motives but we shall see. Our relationship is… turbulent, at best.

Death does not like him, but in that manner, Death despises all creatures who defy him, so there is that.

I have wasted too much magic on this endeavour but I must say that the spell Mori, that I created was a success- but the magic is too draining to use on any other circumstance but that of secret missions. It is not a spell to be made public nor patented, which in turn would make it public.

It is in times like this, that I think I need Tom.

Tom would know how to modify the spell, would know where my goings went wrong- but there are questions I could not answer and I am well aware of his habits of needing to know.

I would seek aid from one of the others but my ability to truly converse with them as I do Tom is currently limited. Thaddeus would be an avenue to approach and he would ask much less questions but I do not trust him with the magic itself, as much as he has proved himself trustworthy. He is a Nott, and knowledge is his might.

For now I will keep an eye on Griffin, Lord Edganine and Count.

Ah, the usage of the mask was also successful so I think I should inform Fleamont that I no longer have any need for the potions and that we should not be worried for my health any longer. Although I admit, I hadn’t thought that extended use of Polyjuice would have such drastic consequences. I can now freely use the body I have created of Nicholas Moriarty with the use of only the mask without being recognised. Small wins, I do suppose. Tom was getting suspicious of my dizzy spells and manic responses to certain things.

I do think I understand Barty more now.

Tom spent a long time staring at that page, trying to absorb several more intricate details. First of all- yes he’d been more than away in seventh year that Hadrian’s health was not where it should have been. Their conflict with Grindelwald had revealed that. But he hadn’t thought that it would be because of Polyjuice potions. But here, is several more editions to the knowledge that Hadrian was from another timeline. Barty should not exist for at least another seventeen years or so. He should also not be surprised that Hadrian managed to find a way to go into combat before he’s even left Hogwarts. He grumbles something crude under his breath and then finds the rough date, he thinks, of the evening after he’d stumbled across the book for the first time, when Hadrian had been making notes.

August 2nd 1948

He wants to know.

I cannot help but run over the consequences helplessly like a movie is playing out before my eyes and I have no choice but to observe.

Perhaps once upon a time I would have enjoyed watching him being torn apart but that hatred has long since left me. And truth be told it is my own greed to keep my worlds separate. But for all that I want my worlds separate, I cannot split myself into two. ( 1952 - Can I not? Memory magic?)

It is only Neville’s presumed hatred of mine towards Riddle that keeps him safe. I fear at some moments I embody the hate in an attempt to push him away. I fail in the end. The bastard is too damned obsessive.

For all the good it does me, I love the bastard. Ron stop shouting at me, there is hardly anything I can do about it now. I tried hate, desire seems to have more positive effects.

And how long can you hate a child for anyway? Malfoy doesn’t count. I wasn’t stuck around him twenty-four seven.

Now Neville, he’s gotten bold, and I’m exhausted. I wasn’t aware how ragged I was running myself recently but I’m exhausted. Perpetually and it feels like under the cupboard all over again. I’m running on whatever energy I can scrounge up and no war plans I’ve found have given me an answer. I’ve researched Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Darius II, Sun Tzu, Hannibal, Napoleon- by the seven hells I even began looking into Hitler . I must be losing my absolute bloody mind

I’m afraid I’m losing a grip on what’s holding me together.

I cannot focus on Tom and the Knights, and Mancer and the Underground separately.

And the worst part is I don’t know which to choose.

Not as if I’ve been given a choice.

Oh by the seven hells I give up.

I don’t, I lie.

But I do! By Morgan and Merlin and Salazar, I need help

I cannot let them join.

Nightmares plague me more frequently now, I’ve taken to drinking the Dreamless Draught. Tom brews it for me without question- I think he’s happier that I’m at least coming to bed on time, even if the sacrifice is my ability to get up in the morning.

Not as if I’m any better than usual.

I know I am running out of time, I think that is what propels me most days and nights into working until I’m dead on my feet.

I think we all know I’m no good at it really, or controlling my emotions when I’m like this.

I must admit I’m afraid.

I’m afraid. Again.

The Gods must hate me, I really must have a word with Him at some point to get some things set straight. Death isn’t exactly high up on that Deity ladder so he’s of little use to me outside of the realm of the living, (the irony once again, does not escape me).

Griffin is both tormenting me and helping me, I think in the long run it’s just more torment.

My life is splitting in two, I think.

I cannot hold them together but it is my fault the gap between them exists at all.

It would just take telling one person.

Well, I’m telling people who are long dead. Lucky me. Draco… I have several unfinished words with you, bastard. Look at the mess you left me with. Again.

I need to go to bed.

Tom ran a hand down his face and took a deep violent breath.

This is not Hadrians fault.

That, he knows. This situation isn’t any more in Toms control than it is in Hadrians.

He also knows how much this has caused Hadrian anguish for years. More than years. This isn’t something someone should bear, certainly not on their own and it is no wonder Hadrian has spiralled so much and that the situation just became the shit show it did between them both.

Tom leant back in the chair and buried his face into his hands, letting out a shuddering sigh.

Between Tom grieving Hadrian in Barty’s bloody body, Hadrian panicking over the situation in another body that should be his but wasn’t and Neville’s interference with everything-

No, it’s no wonder Hadrian is a mess.

A mess Tom should be with right now.

He clasps his hands tightly and thinks, thinks-

Neville.

He leans back in the chair and runs fingers through his hair- noting absent-mindedly he needed to wash it again.

He thinks of Draco Malfoy, runs it around in his head and puts up the image of a man next to the boy he knows.

The images do not mix, no matter how much he tries to overlay them over one another.

He considers his lover as an auror- the image momentarily overlays before it falls apart.

It’s too much, realistically.

It’s too much to learn in one day.

But they’d pushed. Orion had pushed, Tom had pushed- they’d forced him to promise.

Hadrian avoided making promises but he never broke them and he’d kept it, like they’d expected him to.

“Struggling?” A voice speaks up and Tom lifts his gaze to Arcturus and doesn’t deign the man with a response.

He pushes himself upright and slams the book shut, shoving it into the desk draw.

“I do believe it was you who advised me to sort my mind out before I speak with Hadrian about hard topics,” he responds tartly. The older wizard lifts a brow and considers the room they are both in.

“I did, I do believe you handled yourself well in the moment.”

Once upon a time that praise had been high on Tom’s list of cares. Not any more.

“And how is… he?”

“I did not stick around long after you left, but not well.” Tom paced the far length of the wall, staring out over the land.

The land Hadrian had repaired, the house he had redone-

Tom swore colourfully under his breath.

He clenches his fist, rolls his neck, considers his knowledge and decides he’s going to deal with Mancer the violent way.

But to do that- he needs to make sure Hadrian isn’t going to do anything stupid.

Tom knows it isn’t Hadrian’s fault. It is not as if he’d asked to be reincarnated- to be hunted down by Neville forever.

He works his bottom lip.

Their relationship isn’t false.

Hadrian had made that very clear and in all honesty, everything else aside- that was what he had been most worried about.

But it is hard to learn the man he loves is older than him- but no, perhaps that thought just needs to be discarded in its entirety. Hadrian hasn’t lived.

Not properly, not in a long time and it isn’t something Tom would have thought about for himself. After all, once upon a time his aspirations had been quite grand. King of the Wizarding World, where muggles bowed and scraped and Wizards murmured his name in reverence, with his own Knights- He’d have been unstoppable.

He would have been disgusting.

Lord Voldemort.

He runs a hand down his face.

“You shouldn’t blame yourselves for the actions of a counterpart you knew nothing about,” Arcturus says at last, picking up one of the carvings on the desk and rolling it around his palm.

Tom halts outside a window and stares down at the fields around them.

“While that’s true, that doesn’t stop the fact that without Hadrian that’s exactly how I would have turned out.”

“You should be thankful then that that is the way events happened.” Tom turned on his heels and leant on the back of the chair, staring directly at the ex-Lord.

“Is that how you are viewing this then? Thankfully.”

“I am thankful I had both my sons grow up,” Arcturus responds, his voice steady, his gaze flinty, “instead of Orion growing up alone.”

Tom huffed his displeasure.

“So you are thankful.”

“Are you not?”

“No, I am angry.”

“I imagine everyone has every right to be.”

Tom works his jaw and exhaled harshly.

“No. No, I have no right to be angry.”

He could be, oh he’s sure he could be. He could be angry Hadrian manipulated him- that Hadrian had an unfair advantage during Hogwarts. He could be angry Hadrian fell in love with him and tormented him beyond measure simply by existing and thus joining their fucked up lives together.

But he isn’t.

Ironically he feels more proud of every chance he got to one up Hadrian in school, all those moments when his own grades were better, he feels more complete knowing that even in another life, they were irrevocably tied together, even in ways that made his blood boil. He feels relieved to know that Hadrian relied on him still, that Hadrian was not all knowing or all powerful- he was still just a wizard, deep at his core.

He was still human, still a man, still someone Tom could hold and comfort and someone who wasn’t beyond emotions.

There is no man without their flaws. There is no man without their own troubles and there is no man who is equally as willing to hide those flaws in favour of protecting those he loves.

Tom has hidden those nights he’d trained until he’d passed out when he’d been too worried about Hadrian’s absences because he knew his lover would be stressed, had hidden the scratching on his hands from his nervousness and he’d tasted enough blood on his tongue from when he’d bitten through it out of anger.

Merlin knows Tom had been a psychopath when he was younger and even now, he’s well aware of what he’s still capable of. He’d tear out a mans lungs if Hadrian asked. He’d twist and warp their bones, he’d melt their skin-

All Hadrian had to do was ask.

The problem was, Hadrian was not going to ask.

So Tom was going to tell him.

“Excuse me,” he grunts, walking past Arcturus.

“Don’t be too harsh on him,” Arcturus calls out.

It’s been a more than a few hours, it’s a few hours shy of dawn- he knows Hadrian will not be at the safe house, not any more.

But he won’t come back to the Black Manor and he won’t go to the Malfoy Manor either.

So Tom storms down the halls to beyond the wards and then apparates to the town house.

It’s raining in London.

Fuck, when is it not?