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Chapter Text

Here's a fan-made playlist for Antithesis!

The wind rustled sharply through the bare branches of ancient trees. The rattling noise was familiar, having occurred many times already throughout the night.

The small town of Godric's Hollow seemed to hold its breath as an unwanted visitor prowled slowly across cracked cobblestone.

The shadows, thrown from the bare trees, lay warped on rock and ground, providing the illusion of nearly curling towards the lone figure.

It halted suddenly. His darkened cloak, half shrouded from the night itself, stood still in the middle of a barren street towards the end of one court. A single manor glowed with the warm lights of habitation. The sidings were old fashioned and decorated with iron rod fences and elaborate metalwork. Despite the bold statements of wealth, the look was tarnished with the wet splashes of ageing rust and dents along with the bases of each rod. A metal griffin, standing posh and incredibly out of place had been painted gold and red from the harsh corrosion only time could produce.

The gates groaned in protest as invisible claws forced the metal to bend. The gears twisted and obliged to the brute force, rattling loudly as they collided against the frame once extended entirely upon their hinges.

The two adults who held ownership of this manor had left, celebrating a Halloween Party only after immense amounts of poking and prodding. The two had been resilient, only after false securities and half-hearted assurances were they finally convinced to leave.

The party, a small seemingly insignificant event suggested an opportunity that had otherwise been impossible. The situation had dramatically shifted to something bitterly sweet once more details had been cautiously uncovered.

Two infants were left inside the house, a squib witch hired as a temporary caretaker.

He understood the reasoning behind such an ignorant (or naive) action. A squib, integrated to the muggle society so thoroughly he hadn't even been aware of her blood relatives until only recently. Such an outlandish choice for a caretaker was unheard of- he wouldn't have suspected it for a moment. The decision although smart hadn't been made with proper precautions in place.

A twisted smile warped his face once a shrill alarm pierced the relative quiet. The heavily reinforced ward crumbled with the ghastly sound of something important cracking. The suddenness in which his movements shifted from almost entirely unheard, to loud chaos spoke some unnatural confidence in abilities normally shrouded.

The woman briefly appeared in the largest front-facing window, momentarily freezing before vanishing beyond the frame.  The windows were of no matter. Having plotted so long and so tediously- he could spare a moment to indulge in his certain victory.

The windows and door exploded with a grotesque rain of wooden shrapnel and warped iron. The frames cracked, teetering and knocking several panels of the house's siding to the now ruined front garden. The carefully pruned lilacs and hydrangeas smashed into the ground and old mulch.

He strolled into the house, positively feeling giddier than he had in years. His only threat now was a useless waste of genetics, holding a kitchen knife with trembling arms.

He met her horrified eyes and knew that his own burned in excitement.

"Please! I-" she sobbed, arms shaking more before she ran. She bolted like a spooked horse, her feet pounding on the floor towards the stairs. It made no difference; he took his time following after. The stairs squeaked as he ascended and glanced absentmindedly at a moving photo of a mud blood witch and a pureblood fool.

He heard the squib screaming in one room. The door had been locked with a flimsy metal clasp.

She sobbed wildly, begging gibberish as she held her head and long hair between spastic fists. Hysterical, he felt a stirring of disgust for such an unseemly action. His lips twitched slightly, and the woman dropped dead, eyes glassy and mouth open in another wordless plea.

Two cribs, each on opposite walls of the room. They were separated by the squib's body and painted obnoxiously cheerful colours. Innocently they rested under little twinkling mobiles displaying special Quidditch equipment. The far crib held a chubby child with chocolate brown hair. He was curled in a tiny ball, clutching his pudgy fingers into the plush horns of an anatomically inaccurate dragon.

The other crib held a fairly opposite child. A possibly slim child, once accepting all infants had an unseeingly thick layer of baby fat. His hair was dark, nearly impossible to tell the specific colour with the lack of illumination. He slept on his side, one arm near its face while the other lay prone near its side.

He was silent. The names of both children were carved into each headboard respectively. The brown-haired boy has his name written with enchanted letters, glittering gold in bold font.

Skylar

The other was written in the same style and format, the letters a shimmering warm red.

Harry

Perfect.

The man let a small smile grace his normally unreadable face. Even the disgustingly  muggle names wouldn’t ruin the thrilling glee that pulsed through his blood. He lifted his wand but hesitated. His eyes shifted, glancing between both cribs pensively.

Which child was the imminent threat foretold? His resources had told him that both children were born the same day, almost identical to the specific requirements.

It didn't matter, overthinking it only ran the risk of the owners returning early and jeopardizing his spies.

"Harry Potter." The man mused, his voice caused Skylar Potter to frown in his sleep. Harry Potter shifted slightly, knocking a blanket to flutter between the railings. Harry’s crib was on the right, flush against the wall directly across from Skylar.

It was sheer luck (or misfortune), that Lord Voldemort chose to start on the right side that night.

"The last piece needed," he mused, voice rising as he pulled the ivory-coloured wand out from a concealed pocket. His eyes focused on the gentle exhalations of the infant and magic coursed through his limbs in excitement, "how fitting, for your death to assure my life."

The infant wriggled, meaty fist closing and opening in a grasping movement. It's pudgy cheeks puffed out in a small gulping snort. It was positively disgusting.

He grimaced, rolling the wand between his long fingers before arching his wrist in the proper stance. With almost lazy movements, the tip pointed directly between the closed eyes of the child.

"Avada Kedavra." He could almost feel the cold talons of death as the spell wracked through the tiny body. He could see its chest stutter, convulsing sharply as its heart jerked and struggled. The infant’s eyes opened and a piercing wail exploded from the small lungs. Harry jerked, the waves of frigid energy cascaded and escalated to an excruciating crescendo.

Harry wailed, thick tears falling from his eyes as his face reddened in his screams. His pudgy arms waved and pounded limply against the railing of his crib and the dead weight of his chest.

The spell travelled with precision to find the anchor of the infant's soul to its body. Harry Potter’s instinctive magic rose in a wave, attempting to deflect the darker power or negate the effects.

The chilling talons raked across the invisible heart of the infant, leaving gaping wounds and rips across its soul. Having missed, the spell did all that it had been known to ever do- kill.

It deflected, scratching and with a startling unanticipated wrench, tore apart the nearest target regardless of which soul it had lacerated.

The dark magic held within the child's body was too much. With a pain-filled screech, a powerful backlash lunged through the mortar and wood. The already weakened structure groaned and ached wearily as it staggered into a state of disarray. The ceiling collapsed, walls burst, and the metal hinges melted. Nails and wood flew, giving a deep cut over the heart of Skylar Potter, painfully waking him up from his dreams, and giving him anguish over the wound.

Harry Potter groaned, collapsing backwards in severe weakness. The last remnants of dark magic oozed in a numbing haze through a crack just below the infant’s hairline. More chunks of wood fell, support beams crashed into the staircases and shingles collapsed through to the nursery. Both infants screamed even louder as the objects collided leaving broken bones and bruised skin.

Harry’s eyes lolled, shifting slowly from deep emerald into something toxic as the last remnants of black magic left his skull.

Blood, ash, a single corpse, and a black recognizable cloak rested on the floor of the destroyed nursery.

That night cemented the future death of more than just a dark creature.

‘What fun are prophecies if not to throw the unknown word of gods to simple swine and see what conclusions they misinterpret.’

Chapter Text

Harry Potter blinked and shifted quietly as he observed the chaos that had transformed his front lawn.

The grounds of the Potter Estate in Wochien had been entirely transformed with bright streamers of red and gold. Large fluttering kites filled the air, large sparking dragon kites roared and chased shimmering butterfly charmed twice the size of the reptiles.

A makeshift quidditch post had been set up on the western side of the large estate. The pitch, only half the size of a professional pitch, was equipped with miniature and charmed bludgers and an oversized quaffle.

At some point in the spectacle of paintbrushes bewitched to paint faces without the artist, or the exploding snap tournament on the far side of the patio, a bucking shelled pony managed to escape from its temporary pen.

Harry watched with faint amusement as a short wizard scrambled after to catch the strange magical creature (which seemed to enjoy his mother's hostas).

Harry flinched as two red-haired twins his father seemed to be rather fond of, managed to set off a large explosion of raining fire and iridescent pixie dust. His father in question turned from where he had been conversing with what looked like a ministry official to scold the twins. (Harry could see how his mouth quirked into a subtle grin at the two beaming boys.)

"Hello, young man!" Harry cocked his head upwards to stare at the woman and man who looked at him with a slightly uncomfortable smile, "Do you happen to know a young Skylar by any chance?"

Harry blinked, and with one hand pointed to the right where the quidditch pitch had been set up.

"Oh thank you!" The woman squealed, glancing down at him in strange adoration, "You must be a friend of his! I'm Mrs. Belstha!"

Harry stared as the woman thrust her arm out for him to shake. He reached up and clamped his fingers around two of her thicker digits.

"I'm Harry," Harry stated without much inflection, "Skylar is my brother."

The two wizards looked stunned before they quickly hurried to hide it with another strained smile.

"Well! You must be so proud of your brother then! Anyways, off we go! Such a pleasure to meet you!" She chirped, taking her husband's arm and rushing off towards the shrieks and laughter of the mock quidditch match.

Harry sighed softly through his nose and shifted from where he was sitting on the porch. The white wooden slabs had recently been repainted to a bright white, already dinged with black scuff marks. Near Harry to his right, a spelled bowl clinked quietly with ice cubes filled nearly to the top of the lemonade. A platter of sandwiches sat nearby, a small snack considering the enormous cake set on the buffet table on the lawn.

Harry glanced out once he heard a muffled warning. A large bronze flamingo collided with the grown before rising with magical grinding movements.

"James Potter!" Lily- Harry's mother, shouted, "Did you charm my lawn flamingo!"

Harry's father, having seen the damage he had created started to hurry backwards with both arms raised in defense.

Harry watched as a black-haired male- Skylar's godfather Sirius, threw one of the spare brooms at his father. Lily cursed playfully, chasing after him as James hurried onto the broom to escape his mother's wrath.

A few people cheered both of them on, giving whoops as James soared over the crowd standing on the broom shaft in a dramatic pose. Lily took quick work using a water charm to splash her husband down into a conjured mud pile just below.

Harry kicked his feet and looked at his fingers with slight longing.

The party was Skylar and Harry's eighth birthday. His father's old friend group of the 'Marauders' had gathered last night at the estate and started planning the event.

Skylar, the outgoing exciting child that he was, quickly proclaimed that he would have the best party anyone ever had. James and Sirius jumped at the opportunity and started plotting how exactly they could smuggle a Czech Griffin through the wards.

Harry didn't mind, he didn't care about most things. He understood that Skylar was very different from himself- Skylar seemed to glow in the press and the hoards of people always gushing with gifts or thanks for his victory over the Dark Lord. Harry, well Harry preferred to stay back and just watch, he didn't like people talking or asking him questions he didn't know the answers to.

(It wasn't that his parents purposefully ignored him, the fact was he was far too different for them to understand so any attempts for 'family bonding' generally left him anxious and trying to retreat to his room.)

His introversion was why Lily wasn't at all surprised when she approached the porch to get a spare towel that had been set out earlier.

"Hello Harry," She smiled, a slightly tired and sorrowful look as she settled next to him, "you don't want to play with your friends?" she asked quietly with a little smile.

Harry jerked his head and rested his chin on his knees, "They're Skylar's friends," He muttered under his breath.

Lily exhaled softly through her nose. "I'm sure that doesn't mean that they won't play with you?"

Harry glanced into his mother's eyes, they were darker and prettier than his own unsettling eyes. He didn't like him, they were too bright and made people twitch.

"Skylar is the seeker," Harry stated, shortly and curtly. Lily's cheek twitched and he could tell that she bit the inside anxiously.

"Well, maybe you could be the-"

"People will get angry if I'm the seeker and Skylar isn't."

Lily shifted.

"Harry, I-" She started, looking apologetic and tired at the same time, "I, I know that you didn't want a party-"

"It's Skylar's party."

"-But, how about we go to that magical animal exhibition that's near town?" Lily offered, trying to compromise, "They'll be moving on Thursday, but I'm sure we could find the time."

Harry frowned, "Dad and Skylar don't like magical creatures unless they breathe fire."

"Well, you don't like parties."

Harry stared with uncomprehending confusion. Lily looking uncomfortable and sadder than before.

"Harry I- I know that we haven't been the best, but you have to understand-"

"Skylar is the Boy-Who-Lived and needs extra protection because dark wizards still are angry with him," Harry chanted blankly with no tone of voice, "I know mum, Skylar is more-"

Harry cut off when Lily started to get up and looked torn and somehow furious, "Harry, I- how about tomorrow we head over to the expo. Just you and me? I thought there was something about a baby hydra there," Lily coaxed, smiling as Harry shyly glanced up hopefully, "I know your father isn't fond of reptiles, except Merlin knows he has a problem with dragons, but-"

"I think I'd like to go," Harry quietly mentioned, at once looking apprehensive, "I mean, It's okay if we need to clean up, or if Skylar wants to go somewhere else. I don't have to go, I can always-"

"We're going." Lily firmly stated. The moment was ruined when a witch called out for Lily loudly, having her grandson timidly hiding behind her large green frock coat.

Lily looked torn, but eventually, the nasally cries for her company won out and she hurried over the lawn to greet the new guest.

Harry glanced back at the white paint on the deck and scraped his nail across the path of a particularly adventurous ant.

The day continued similarly, with few guests saying hello to Harry and even fewer actually remembering that he too had a birthday. The uncomfortable small talk just led Harry to believe further that they had only come for Skylar (didn't everyone?) and speaking with him was just pleasantries.

He knew that, and he knew that the party was for Skylar. Yet a portion of him felt hollow and made him gasp for ragged breaths when he saw his father hoist Skylar onto his broom with him to dive-bomb Sirius with muggle water balloons.

Harry didn't like flying anyway.

Lie.

If he did, he wouldn't like sharp dives or sudden turns.

Lie.

He was perfectly content sitting on the porch and watching everyone else laugh and give Skylar his birthday presents.

Lie.

Harry was perfectly fine with the arrangement, he didn't need a party and he had come to not expect one.

It still made him feel like something had cracked inside.

Something came up, which Harry had expected would happen anyway.

Why would he be hopeful over visiting some sort of magical animal exposition when he knew that Skylar would demand attention or have some sort of after-party request the family would oblige to?

(He had learned that there was no point getting hopeful over things that most likely wouldn't happen anyways.)

Instead, it was Remus Lupin, his very own Godfather who had informed him early the next morning that they would be seeing the expo.

This had surprised Harry, he had been quietly told by his father that his Godfather was not entirely human. The thought hadn't ever concerned Harry, yet he hadn't ever considered that the man would want to see an array of magical oddities behind bars.

"You ready to go?" Remus asked awkwardly, wearing a slightly too big worn brown cloak. Harry glanced at his own clothing, a large jacket and his own loose pants. It wasn't as if they would have been walking into the nearest town.

Harry gave a small nod, taking Remus' huge grip with one of his smaller hands and grasping tightly. Harry flinched, resisting the urge to gag as his entire body was ripped backwards with the sensation of something pulling too sharply on a large belt. He stumbled once light flashed again. Remus hurried to kneel and steady the younger boy, who blinked in confusion but still looked around in restrained excitement.

They were in an open plaza where many stalls and glass cages had been set up. Magical creatures prowled or sat dopey behind the glass.

Remus looked uncomfortable, seeing one Manticore which stiffened and snarled aggressively once smelling the man. Harry tried not to pay any attention, but very quickly once entering the main pavilion all magical creatures seemed to hone in on Remus and snarl aggressively.

Harry's chest began to tighten once they noticed a rather suspicious-looking aid drifting closer to their position.

'Don't do this, not today. This was supposed to be for me,' Harry thought quietly, already feeling the bitter tang of having to leave only half an hour after arriving.

'This was supposed to be my party,' Harry's throat twitched and much to his horror, he felt his eyes start to glaze.

A security guard frowned at the two of them, slowly advancing towards them through the tiny crowd. His eyes were locked on the elder and had drawn his wand cautiously.

Harry bolted, running and ducking through the crowd as he heard Remus shout his name in alarm. Evidently, the security guard had not been noticed.

'It's not fair!'

He ran through a half-opened door, propped open only by a small crate. Running through, he kicked the crate but wasn't quite fast enough to avoid the thick door from snapping shut on his ankle.

It had obviously been enchanted in hindsight, magicked to avoid animals from escaping. The door snapped shut and cracked loudly against his ankle. Harry shouted out in pain, tears now sliding down his cheeks as he whimpered and hugged his knees close to his body.

'It's not fair- It's not-'

There was a buzzing in his ears that seemed to only get louder.

'Why does- why does everyone spoil everything?'

The buzzing was loud and his ankle hurt and- was his nose bleeding?

'Why can't I have a nice thing for once?'

He heard something shatter like ice under strain. He glanced up, trying to wipe his nose as a sudden wave of dizziness struck him.

Cages holding sleeping creatures had somehow cracked- spiderweb hairs that were growing larger and larger.

Star filled pupils focused on the cracks from behind the ward, long forked tongues lolled out lazily as a webbed hoof stretched out.

Harry's heart jumped to his throat as the cracks finally reached a point of instability and collapsed like falling rain.

Something that looked suspiciously like a winged goat licked its fangs menacingly.

Harry scrambled back, ankle dragging limply and throbbing unbearably. The door had closed and locked behind him, most likely why it had been propped open originally. He could hear faint shouts and could only assume that somehow the cages outside had broken as well.

One oversized spider clicked its fangs and prodded the broken cage with interest.

"What- What is this?" Harry heard a quiet voice and scrambled to reply.

"Help!" He hurried out, his back now flush against the back of the door.

The fanged goat creature stumbled back, rearing at something Harry couldn't quite see. He held his breath and curled one hand into a shaking fist.

"...Hello?" A small head poked around the corner and glanced at Harry, it flicked its tongue twice, "Oh, it's just one filthy human."

Harry's eyes widened and the snake turned to look around its newly freed area.

It was large. The length Harry couldn't quite determine; It was as thick as Harry's thigh and likely larger still. It had a tan triangle head that was aiming the other way entirely disinterested.

"Wait!" Harry tried once again, swallowing quickly, "Those things are scared of you and-"

"You talk to me?" The snake swiftly turned its head and looked baffled with its reptilian snout, "Humans talk to me? They owe me rabbits!"

Harry floundered, "I- I don't-"

"Hatch-mates are all gone. I don't need Hatch-mates, I can bite death," The snake suddenly reared, although small it opened its large mouth and unhinged impressive fangs with a terrifying hiss. Its tail slid around the edge, it too reared back and twisted suddenly with slit pupils.

Harry's eyes widened and he jerked back, accidentally hitting his injured ankle against the floor and yelping out a sound. The second head tilted curiously whilst the first continued to taste the air interested.

"You smell of prey. Why do you smell of prey?" The snake hissed, sliding half a foot closer.

Harry stared, "I think I hurt my ankle." Harry swallowed, throat tight and eyes still watering, "It- this was supposed to be a good day and now it isn't."

"I think it is a good day. I got two mice, that's an extra mice. And you."

"Wha-" Harry blurted, trying to scoot further back as the second head submitted to sliding backwards as the main head slowly advanced. It opened its mouth menacingly- an extra set of fangs unhinged and slid into a slot behind the original set.

"I- No!" Harry shouted, eyes widening as his breathing accelerated, "I am not food!"

"You are prey."

"I'm human!"

"I'm Amfivena." It didn't seem deterred as it rose slowly to rear above Harry's head and in plain view of the locked door.

Something collided with the door and caused it to swing outwards suddenly. Harry cried out and scrambled backwards near the feet of a startled and concerned caretaker.

"Ay! You alright?" The man blurted, grabbing one of Harry's arms and forcefully yanking him further away from the agitated magical serpent, "Stay back! Bollocks, I knew we should have gotten rid of this thing!"

"Harry!" Harry looked up into the near-panicking face of his godfather, "Harry are you alright?"

Harry didn't say anything, instead, he watched as the caretaker managed to conjure a small whip he currently was smacking against the floor.

"No!" The snake spat, switching heads and quickly retreating, "Not prey! Not prey! Won't bite, won't bite!" It screeched, managing to convey how absolutely terrified the animal actually was.

"What's going to happen to it?" Harry muttered, feeling dazed over the entire situation.

"Eh?" The caretaker muttered, scowling as the snake hurried into its broken cage to hide, "Oh, probably sell this bloody thing for parts. Don't know why we still 'ave it, most are just sold fer love potions and that." The man grimaced, looking at his whip in disdain, "seems a bit off to have love potions from as ruddy a beast as that."

Harry stared, not quite comprehending yet still hearing the muffled cries of "Won't bite! Won't bite! Share prey with! Den-mate!"

"It's sorry," Harry offered, looking at the agitated caretaker, "It just wanted more food."

The man barked out a laugh, "Hah! Fat chance lad, that thing is a sure beast. I'll be happy when we drop that thing off."

"Share prey with human! Den-mate! Not prey!"

Remus carefully slid his hands under Harry's knees and under his shoulder. With one movement the older man hoisted the young boy up into the air away from any danger. The caretaker looked around the back room, running one hand through his hair. Harry could already tell that he was angry, so many cages were broken and the goat creature was bleating sorrowfully.

There was an unconscious Diricawl wrapped in nets and being levitated by emergency personnel that seemed to be cleaning up the scene.

Harry's gut twisted once he noticed blood on the floor.

"What's going to happen?" Harry asked quietly, watching as more animals were shoved away and more blood was quickly cleaned up.

"They'll probably move on a tad bit earlier," Remus replied calmly, although his voice was very strained.

Harry felt an uncomfortable knot in his throat which pulsated in rhythm to the lolling stab of pain originating in his ankle. It bounced limply with every step Remus took, hanging from an awkward position.

"What about the animals?" Harry asked concerned, he rather enjoyed animals. They were much more accepting and listened to him talk most times, he didn't want them to get in any trouble because of him.

Remus said nothing and instead locked his jaw slightly.

Harry felt the knot in his throat press on his chest with uncomfortable pressure. Why wasn't Remus answering his question?

"No, No!" He heard the sudden piercing scream from the Amfivena. "Not want! Sorry! Is sorr-"

The cry cut off partway through. Remus shifted Harry although showed no signs of having heard. Harry stared, eyes locked on the door that had been forced open where the snake had quieted suspiciously.

"I didn't mean to-" Harry blurted, feeling the heavyweight of guilt pressing on him.

Remus looked down and shook his head softly, "Oh, no Harry, none of this was your fault. You don't have to be sorry for anything."

Harry looked down, eyes glazing and clouding.

It was his outburst that had led to the snake's sudden hush. If he hadn't have reacted or outburst, the blood wouldn't have been spilled.

Who had been hurt? Who had he hurt?

They reached the far door and Harry had not yet heard another sound from the snake.

"I'm sorry too," Harry whispered.

With the sudden excitement over this story, I've found myself constantly working on plot devices and other components.
I've also managed to indulge myself in doodling some fanart that will be open for public.

It is located on my personal tumblr- you do not require an account to view.
Feel free to follow, as I will likely post story updates or just writing updates and more art as time continues.

Click here

Chapter Text

In the tumult of events that transpired at the Magical Creature Expo, the Daily Prophet recorded two serious injuries and the legal requirements for euthanasia of seven magical creatures.

According to the paper, the legal requirements stirred up an activist group who were highly opposed to the unfair treatment and imprisonment of magical creatures.

The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures specializing within the Beast Division was particularly under scrutiny. Moreso now than ever according to the apparent disregard for one rare Bowtruckle, a now endangered species, which had been caught in the crossfire of the ministries responding aurors.

The Bowtruckle in particular, stated within the paper as ‘A harmless tree-dwelling creature that is difficult to find, and has great significance. The Bowtruckle species was once used commonly to find healthy trees or wooden material suitable for magic conduits. Now due to the Bowtruckle’s recent endangerment in attempts to track alternate wood sources for conduits for dark arts, the species have nearly vanished in its natural habitat. This decrease is directly correlated to an increase in magical accidents through wand material experimentation. The greatest incident recorded was in Northern Amiens, France. This incident resulted in fourteen muggle and wizard deaths due to the magical explosion of an incorrect conductor-’

The paper continued on. On the second page numerous witnesses had described the chaos as well as their obvious bemoans over the life of the Bowtruckle. The page after that regarded the current attempt for habitat restoration and conservation for the species, and the bills being thrown at the Ministry in regards for the safety and wellbeing of magical creatures under a class one rating.

Harry read the paper quite thoroughly, he had nothing better to do since he had been forced to remain in bed as his ankle reduced in swelling and healed. There were a few words he didn’t understand the meaning of, as well as a few descriptions of current bills and decisions made by ministry officials.

He read the paper very carefully, even rereading it once he had finished.

Not once did it mention the Amfivena.

(He never really expected that it would have.)

The house was whispering in quiet murmurs.

Harry awoke silently in his room as the white noise lulled him out of sleep. His room was dark, the windows didn’t offer a hint of sunlight or reveal just how late it was.

The murmurs rose in pitch, distinguishing themselves in the incoherent noises of multiple voices.

Harry slid out of his bed quietly. He took a few steps- his ankle had already healed although hadn’t been tested yet. He hobbled slightly to the door, turning and peering out into the dark hallway. The further he walked the less his ankle hindered his movements. Once reaching the main staircase, he was walking fluidly and quietly down the steps towards the showroom where the light and voices were.

Harry approached the door, now able to distinguish the voices of his parents as well as an older wheezing voice and someone much younger yet with a thickened accent.

Harry padded forward, gently he opened the door to peer inside. He was correct with his original guess, both parents were in attendance. Alongside them was an elder man Harry recognized only due to his interactions with Skylar, and a short scraggly red haired man who had an uncomfortable grimy aura.

“Harry!” Lily suddenly gushed, running one hand through her hair in a nervous tick as she shushed him towards the door, “Out you go, back to sleep! Your ankle isn’t well and-”

“It already healed.” Harry quietly offered, silencing her fretting and peering around once more.

“Listen to your mother, this is a conversation for adults.” James offered gently yet sternly.

Harry turned, not meeting the eyes of the two strangers. He shifted, about to close the door before he spotted the unmistakable blue of Skylar’s pajamas. The boy in question was sitting in a chair, looking rather sleepy suggesting he had been there a while.

‘Oh,’ Harry thought, not understanding why he suddenly felt such a strange feeling, ‘it’s a meeting for the important people. Not adults, I’m just not supposed to be here.’

Harry gave a small reluctant nod and trudged slowly out of the room. The door clicked quickly behind him, and the discussion started once again.

He couldn’t find an excuse to lumber back into bed, despite the grating constant exhaustion. He walked with dragging feet and half opened eyes into the adjacent dining room. Climbing up onto a chair, he fiddled with one of the gilded Potter chalices that were always used for decoration. His thumbs traced the silver engravings and decorative marks. His fingers left small smudges against the precious metal- he’d likely have to polish it.

Tracing the marks and arches of the cup repeatedly provided him the necessary distraction to stay awake as the muffled voices continued endlessly. They began to meld in the back of his mind to an incessant chatter.

A door opened and clicked shut; the sound itself was very quiet but the harshness of its spontaneity made it ring clearly. Harry jerked his head up, looking as the short man ran one pudgy fist over his fading hairline. The man spotted Harry, and with a crooked unusual smile he waltzed over, trailing one hand over the crown moldings along the walls.

“Hiya,” He greeted, yanking out the closest chair with one leg before plopping down on the edge, “You’re the other kid, right?”

Harry blinked slowly, and nodded quietly.

“You should probably scamper off,” the man rolled his eyes, “Don’t wanna be around for that mess.”

“What mess?” Harry asked, shifting to look at the other man fully.

“Well, looks like we got more clowns tryin’ to out your folks,” The man gave a cruelly twisted grin, “Looks like people are out for your family, mate.”

Harry tilted his head curiously, “People are always out for us.”

“Ah,” The man crooned, leaning forward as if to tell a secret, “But this time, I got word that they’re gonna getcha.”

Harry sat back alarmed, that and also disgusted by this stranger’s breath. Out to get them?

“Eh, don’t worry kid, we’re gon scramble you.” The man eased, clapping his hands dramatically, “One of ya over here, one over there, and boom- you’ve vanished.”

Vanished? Splitting up?

“We’re leaving?” Harry asked quietly, hands clenching around the cup harder, “Where?’

The man shrugged, reaching out and plucking the cup from Harry’s hands. Harry blinked, hands falling onto the table as if stunned.

“Eh, I dunno.” The man shrugged, tossing the cup in his hand and inspecting it closely, “Your brother, he’s heading off with your pops and that Dumble’s bloke, off for training or someth’g ruddy like that.”

“Oh,” Harry sighed, blinking bluntly as his mind quickly collapsed to disconcertingly blank.

“Eh, I heard your head’n off to your cousin or someth’n. Your mum’s got it covered, says nob’dy look there.” The man grinned, teeth were discolored and his breath stank of something burning, “Look’s like you’re going on your own little trip.”

Harry’s hands started twitching and he curled them under the table and out of sight.

The man slapped Harry on the shoulder once, before jumping to his feet. “I’m Mundungus Fletcher, and I’m takin’ this. Hope ya’ don’t mind.” The man winked, brandishing the cup.

“But that’s-”

The man popped and vanished.

‘-mine.’

Harry’s hands shook and trembled with something strong. His mind was blank, and he felt strangely void from the room.

He wasn’t- he couldn’t be sent away. That was, it was a ridiculous idea-

‘Don’t get excited over things that probably won’t happen anyways.’ he reasoned, eyelids sliding down halfway again, ‘Why, why would they actually keep me?’

He tried to summon any sort of instance where he had been thought of or given special privilege over Skylar. He tried, yet he couldn’t actually remember an instance. He felt as if he was swiping his hands through mist, attempting to find any sort of memory just out of reach.

(He knew, that there was no such memory. He knew it and yet he was desperate for any.)

‘They’ll send you away.’ his mind whispered, and he finally let himself close his eyes against the searing ache, ‘Even the man wanted the cup more than he wanted you.’

The cup- the cup.

“Why do people take everything away from me?” He whispered, voice cracking halfway through as his jaw convulsed. He locked his jaw, biting against tooth as his skull ached and his throat was filled with a quaffle. His chest was rising and falling at uneven flutters-

‘I don’t-’ he glanced at the blurred outline of the door where the voices were discussing his dismissal.

Skylar wasn’t being sent away.

A single sob tore itself from his mouth, and a tear fell onto the shiny floor.

‘I’m sorry that- I’m sorry i’m not Skylar.’

He shoved the palms of his fists into his eyes and twisted. It hurt but it somehow gave some clarity to the situation.

He had tried, he had tried many times over and over to gain his parents attention. They were always too busy to listen to him or read to him like they used to.

They were always busy with Skylar.

(“ Bad people want to hurt Skylar so mum and dad have to help him, i’m sorry Harry maybe in a little bit. ”)

(It was always in a little bit.)

Harry hung his head and with small gulping breaths and shaking hands he made the slow journey up the stairs alone. He always had done everything alone, and he would feel weird if someone was to help him now.

Because in the end, he wasn’t Skylar.

.

.

.

(And Skylar was the one who got good things.)

Chapter Text

“Harry!”

Harry bolted awake, scrambling and sluggishly struggling to stay upright on his bed. He failed as the mattress teetered once again, and with a warbling yelp he slipped out from under the covers onto the floor.

He heard snickering as he gingerly rubbed the spot on his skull which had collided with the ground. Uprighting and repositioning his lopsided sleeping apparel, he spotted impish hazel eyes and dark brown hair peering at him from over the blankets.

“Gotcha, didn’t I?” Skylar snickered, straightening his back to peer down at still tired twin.

“Why-” Harry started, giving a small cough to clear his throat, “ Why would you do that?” He winced, and cracked his back loudly.

Skylar didn’t seem fazed by the loud popping, instead he shifted so both feet would dangle over the edge, socks swinging nearly close enough to hit Harry’s face.

“Mum and Dad wanted us downstairs,” Skylar shrugged, “They told me to get you.”

“And you couldn’t have just knocked?” Harry muttered under his breath, getting to his feet.

Skylar grinned and gave a wink before hopping off the bed and nearly skipping to the door, “See ya downstairs!” Skylar’s face lit up, “Mum made pancakes! Our favourite!”

“ Your favourite,” Harry corrected, already grabbing a new shirt to change into.

Skylar shrugged in the doorframe, “Same thing.”

Harry rolled his eyes and found a pair of pants. Glancing at the door, Skylar had already left, and without the decency of actually closing the door.

Harry changed quickly, sparing one look in a nearby mirror (there was no hope for trying to flatten the chaos of his scalp), before slipping into the hallway towards the stairs.

The sudden daylight and brightness of the estate made him almost forget entirely the night before. It felt like a dream, too implausible to be reality yet there was some sort of tint to it which caused him to doubt if he had only imagined it.

Each step caused some sort of tickling uncertainty to rear once more.

Had he actually imagined it?

(Had that man been right?)

“Harry!” Lily blinked, peeking through the archway and looking back at the table, “There’s pancakes if you would-”

“I’m okay.” Harry mumbled, walking into the kitchen and sliding into the one seat that was available.

There was a chalice missing on the table.

“Is there something important?” Harry asked quietly, swinging his feet under his chair. Skylar looked up from where he sat across from Harry, blinking with doe eyes and syrup running down his chin.

“Yeah!” Skylar blurted, swallowing a large clump of dough with a small cringe, “I got this!” Skylar gushed, reaching down into a pocket before pulling out a figurine.

The small fist sized griffin gave a miniature roar, flapping its small wings to create tiny gusts strong enough to knock over a blueberry. It paced on the tabletop, totally enrapturing Skylar’s attention.

“Where did you get that?” Harry asked quietly. It gave a little snap with its beak and pounced on a chunk of pancake Skylar offered it.

“Dumbledore!” Skylar chirped, eyes lighting up quickly, “You should have seen him- he’s the headmaster at that one school!”

“Hogwarts, sweetie,” Lily scoffed playfully, “You’ll go there too one day, Sky.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably as Skylar beamed and giggled a small amount when Lily poked his exposed cheek.

“Why was Dumbledore here?” Harry interrupted, bringing the two back on topic.

Lily’s expression faltered, shifting to something unsure. She wrung her hands and looked at the table with a very hesitant expression, “Well, we have to talk to you about that.”

Harry felt his jaw waver and tried his best to hold it still.

“Hey!” James poked his head in, blinking a few times. His glasses were slightly askew, he seemed startled to see Harry in the room.

(Given, Harry normally didn’t attend breakfast.)

“James! Good!” Lily sighed in relief, queuing for the man to come into the kitchen. At once, James seemed alarmed and tried to skitter out of the kitchen. “ James.”

He groaned in protest yet slid into the kitchen and plopped on the chair at the head of the table.

Lily walked over, somehow having a mug in her hands as she twirled one strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

“So,” James started, awkwardly rapping his fingers on the table, “Well, uh. You see-”

Lily scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Honestly James, alright.” She started, looking very seriously at the two children, “Do you remember that there are unfriendly people who are very upset with us?”

Skylar nodded eagerly, looking curiously at the parents.

“Well, we’ve learned that those people are trying harder to find us.” James clarified, looking worriedly between both children, “So we have to leave.”

“Leave?” Skylar gasped, mouth opening in surprise. There was a chunk of food between his teeth, “And go where?”

“That’s the thing,” Lily sighed, sliding downwards into the chair next to James and Skylar, “Albus- Dumbledore,” She clarified, “Says that he’ll be able to find us a safe place, but he wants to begin your training as soon as possible.”

“To defeat the death-munchers!” Skylar chirped, looking at James who seemed sheepish at the name.

Lily raised one eyebrow at James but nodded to Skylar, “Yes. They don’t like you- They don’t like Skylar, Harry dear.” She directed this time at Harry, “And they’ll hurt some of us to get to Skylar.”

Skylar looked worried this time, “What- no!” He cried, “No! Mum that’s not-”

“It’s okay, your father and I know how to protect ourselves.” Lily smiled, holding out her wand for Skylar to see.

“Your mother is right, we’ll be fine.” James wiggled his eyebrows in a reassuring way which seemed to dispel some of the nervous tension in the room.

It clicked in Harry’s head.

“I can’t defend myself.” Harry mentioned quietly, drawing all eyes on him, “I’m a risk?”

Lily reached over to take one of Harry’s hands, “We’ve thought of all the possibilities, and we thought that you could maybe spend time with Remus or maybe Sirius.” She offered.

“Or you could come with us,” James mentioned, he looked a little restrained with the idea, “It would… it’s feasible.”

Harry looked down at his hands.

“We think that Remus and Sirius may be targeted as well,” Lily mentioned quietly, “We aren’t quite sure what extend we all are going into hiding.”

Harry pulled his hand back from under his mother’s, and fiddled with a fork. “Where else?” He asked, looking up into Lily and James’ guilt filled eyes, “Have you thought of another place?”

Lily looked at James and paused for a moment, “My sister, Petunia.” Lily started, “She’s a muggle. She has a nice muggle family,” Lily smiled slightly and brushed back her hair, “Nobody would ever look in a muggle family, especially from a wizarding family.”

“Of course it’s your choice.” James interjected. “You can come with us, or Padfoot or Moony, or with Lily’s family.”

“But everyone is going into hiding?” Harry asked quietly. ‘Everyone can protect themselves. Except me.’

“Everyone is. It’s not safe anymore.” Lily agree’d.

“We’ll have to be leaving pretty soon,” James explained, “A friend of ours is going to watch the house for a bit so nobody thinks we’ve left.”

Harry nodded and chewed his lip.

‘I could come. But I’ll just get in the way. Skylar needs to be safe and I’m going to make it worse.’ Harry thought.

There was a part inside of him, that was screaming to say that he wanted to go with. That he wanted to stay.

“It’s safer if I go?” Harry asked, voice rising at the end.

“Much safer,” James agreed, “Nobody would look for a wizard in a house of muggles. It’ll be safer for you and It’ll be safer for-”

Lily swiftly shoved her elbow into her husband’s side, causing him to jolt but silence himself immediately.

‘It would be safer for Skylar.’

Harry bowed his head, and wrung his hands quietly.

“You don’t have to make a decision, we just thought we should bring it up and-”

“I’ll go.” Harry accepted quietly, “If it’s better for Skylar, I’ll go.”

Harry noticed how James and Lily both had an expression of utter relief on their faces.

“Thanks Harry,” Lily smiled, rising from her chair and giving Skylar one last pat on his shoulder.

“I don’t mind.” He murmured quietly. Because in the end, Skylar was the boy to be protected and Harry was the boy who never was.

Skylar had a conflicted and strange expression. He looked down at the miniature Griffin and poked it half heartedly.

“Alright,” James firmed, rising and scratching his chair legs along the flooring, “Best to get ready then.”

“We’re leaving today?” Skylar guffawed, “But, but what about all our things!”

“You can take them with you,” Lily somberly smiled, “Those enchanted trunks we had picked out last summer- do you know where yours is?” Lily soothed.

Skylar nodded quickly but still looked rather put out by the recent information.

“Harry,” James started, looking serious once more, “Your aunt’s family are muggles, that means that most magical objects have to be hidden out of eyesight of any visitors or not exposed muggles,”

“Can I hide it in my trunk?” He asked quietly, James gave a firm nod. Harry rose quietly, sliding off the chair and walking across the floor out of the room. He knew James and Lily were startled but unsure what else to say.

“We won’t be able to meet up often, just in case somebody is following us.” James explained tersely, “It-”

“Take everything you want to.” Lily sweetly yet abruptly added, “Is there anything we can get you? Before you leave?”

Harry swallowed.

They wouldn’t have otherwise offered, realistically they were supposed to have all focus aimed at Skylar, who was in the most immediate danger. There wasn’t time nor was it worth the hassle to consciously worry about his welfare. Harry would be fine, he had long since learned that it was better to be independent and quiet than to seek attention when there was none to receive.

“No,” he shook his head, leaving from where he had paused in the entryway. The stairs were creaky and seemed much more ominous than he had ever felt in the house. Suddenly, it felt far more imposing against his small body. The portraits seemed foreign and although they moved loudly in the frames, he heard nothing besides the pulsating rush in his ears. It pounded rhythmically and seemed to lull his state of mind into something soothing.

‘This isn’t real.’ His mind assured him. He felt like he was watching the world through the eyes of an imposter, watching as his body moved without his conscious control, ‘This is all fake.’

He found some sort of perverse comfort in the knowledge that it was all most likely an illusion after all.

(It likely didn’t ever matter.)

His trunk had had been enchanted and decorated with gaudy silver fasteners over the rich wood. It was larger on the inside, yet Harry didn’t have any difficulty in sliding his multitude of personal belongings inside the confines and clicking the small clasp shut. The trunk was still large, as high as his torso and as long as his arm span. Sliding it out of his closet, he felt that his room had become alien to him. The few figurines or drawings he had taken from various newspapers were removed from the shelves and folded or stacked away safely. His walls were now bare and his bookshelf was lonely.

He paused at the doorway unsure. If they were to be leaving the house and traveling somewhere new, would anyone actually notice if he had snuck a few tomes from the many shelves of his mother’s library? The collection wasn’t as elaborate as the family libraries or studies of Skylar’s friend’s families, yet it did contain a fair number of books and novels.

The study was on the second floor on the other side of the house. It was furthest from the bedrooms, yet still a fairly well versed path. Harry looked up and down the hallway before trotting off quickly along the hallway. He wasn’t particularly sure if he was allowed to take any of the books.

‘If I ask, they may say no.’ He thought to himself, pressing against the grandiose doors, ‘So why ask at all?’

Obviously his thinking was morally ambiguous, given any other situation or scenario he would most likely think or decide against. Considering with the ease both his mother and father expressed with his volunteering to be sent to live with family he had never met before; he felt the slow burning fire of irritation. He felt smug that the least he could do for himself, was to snatch a few books to entertain himself with wherever he ended up.

Harry didn’t drag the heavy trunk through the hallways with him, so he was limited with the amount of books he could carry back to his room without being obvious with what exactly he had done. He was confident that he would have enough time to browse through the collection, since both parents were assisting Skylar at the moment.

So he was left with the suddenly overwhelming question of which books to take.

The more elaborate and complex books on runes or other mathematics had been sorted and placed on the bookshelves above his natural height. Just as well, he didn’t think that reading about maths would at all be satisfying. Nor would History, or potions in his opinion.

His small fingers trailed along the thick covers of the many books on the magically enhanced bookshelves. He spotted volumes with strange titles or words he couldn't pronounce, let alone understand the meaning of.

There was a collection of spell books all published by a woman, Miranda Goshawk. Harry didn’t know who the woman was, but if his parents had a complete collection of her works she must be impressive.

He tugged out one of the books which didn’t seem to be a part of the main volume. Goshawks Assortment of Spells and Charms , a decently thick book with a leather cover and black ink. It seemed fancy enough, yet didn’t have the sparkling font or the mass production feel that the other books had. He set it aside in the pile.

Magical Theory and Phenomena, written by Hasfalda Brickens, and Scalding Scales written by Silvanus Kettleburn, joined his pile and formed a rather thick stack.

Harry wished he could take more. He knew he could carry more books and run back to his room, but the portraits would likely tell his parents. In the off chance that the books he was taking weren’t allowed to be removed-

‘ This will be okay,’ Harry agreed, eying the actual thickness of the books. They would certainly offer him plenty of reading material.

He didn’t need anything else. This would be fine.

(He wanted more, he easily squashed the desire and let it shrivel into something ugly.)

He gathered the three books in his arms and clutched the stack to his chest. He rushed out through the hallway and over the stairs back towards his room.

The trunk had plenty of room, the three books were set with loving gentleness amidst the rest of his knicknacks. His clothing provided a soft cushion for the rest of his objects.

He closed the trunk and locked it with the fluttering guilt of having stolen something.

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the wood. The biting cold of the clasps brought some form of clarity to the foggy haze of his mind.

He was being sent away.

(Because he wasn’t as important as Skylar.)

His jaw clenched and fingers spasmed around the wood. Why was it fair that he had to go?

Why was it that Skylar was the one who was allowed so many privileges and royalties?

What had Skylar ever done, that Harry hadn’t?

“I’ll be better.” Harry muttered under his breath, eyes prickling and stinging as he fluttered them wildly. “I’ll be better.” He hissed under his breath.

What right did they have to throw him away?

Why was it, that Skylar got preferential treatment over something he did as a baby?

Harry had not ever asked for better treatment, or complained about favouritism. He accepted the unfairness and he said nothing.

And now they were going to just... get rid of him?

He scoffed quietly, he didn’t want to stay with them if that was what they wanted.

Harry would learn and be a better wizard than Skylar ever would be.

(He would show them wrong.)

Chapter Text

The Dursley household had been grossly underprepared -- or they hadn’t been notified -- of their new obligation. An older wizard, whose name and whose relationship to his parents Harry didn’t actually know, arrived that night to side-along apparate Harry to their small abode later that evening. When they arrived, the old wizard knocked on the door, and started explaining the situation to the large, baffled man who opened the door.

Vernon Dursley, the man who opened the door, was as daft as he was large. It quickly became apparent that he was confused, infuriated, and then openly hostile. He grabbed a nearby lamp and brandished it like a weapon, pointing the bulb threateningly in the face of the exasperated wizard.

Harry’s mother was rather firm with raising her children with the knowledge of muggle gadgets and things.His father had been amused and had laughed at the many lessons that she taught their children, although he did end up learning a lot too. Those lessons were the only reason Harry was aware that the lamp was, in fact, a lamp and not a weapon as the older wizard seemed to believe.

Vernon Dursley was quickly making a scene, his large face going red and his cheeks vibrating with the viciousness of his shouting.

A new woman appeared , dressed in a mint green robe, looking just as frazzled as Mister Dursley. When she caught sight of Harry, she grew pale and then rather dramatically swooned. Her body hit the ground loudly, her hair curlers rattling as her head hit the floor.

Harry’s escort made some sort of objection and tried to make his way into the house. The large, loud man roared something angrily and tried to force him back out.

A child, roughly Harry’s age but many times bigger, screamed something in shock and nearly the entire neighbourhood woke up in hushed confusion.

Harry exhaled slowly, straightened his back, firmly grasped his trunk, and bit back the growing sense of regret in agreeing to come to the Dursleys’. He was both surprised and frustrated with how quickly things had unfolded, but what was the worst thing that could happen?

It couldn’t be any worse than what he’d already been through, could it?

The Dursley’s, were a family of the worst people that Harry had ever met. They were as snobbish, rude, and arrogant as the worst of Skylar’s friends.

Vernon Dursley, the head of the household, prided himself on being a successful, respectable provider for his family. In truth, he was greedy, selfish, and judgmental.

His wife, Harry’s aunt Petunia, was a horse-faced liar who was always looking for rumours and gossip, obsessed with social status and maintaining the appearance that they were a perfectly normal family.

Their son, Dudley, was a greedy glutton and they spoiled him terribly. He’d learned exactly how to get what he wanted, throwing screaming fits if his parents didn’t immediately capitulate. Harry knew that, although Skylar had been spoiled a bit, he was nowhere near as rotten as their obese cousin.

Behind closed doors, the Dursleys made absolutely no effort to hide their blatant hatred for Harry and “his kind.” A growing part of Harry’s own heart felt the same way about them.

Harry’s trunk and a small cot had been thrown into a hastily cleared cupboard under the stairs. The ventilation flap was clogged with dust and, when he complained, Aunt Petunia gave him a nearly-clean rag and a bottle of noxious chemicals and told him to clean it himself.

The rest of the cupboard wasn’t much better. It certainly wasn’t fit for human habitation. Mould and mildew rotted the floor panels from wet shoes and thick cobwebs cushioned any sharp edges. The single lightbulb hanging overhead had long since burned out and no-one had ever bothered to change it.

When Harry told them that there was no way that a small boot cupboard was at all sanitary or decent enough for someone to live in, Vernon had shouted at him angrily for an hour about how ungrateful he was that they took him in. Harry thought about contacting his parents, or anyone really, to complain or retract his agreement… before he realised that he had no way to do so.

Post owls didn’t just swoop by whenever a wizard wanted to send a letter, he couldn’t just use any old bird, and even if he could, he had no way of knowing where his parents even were.

He was now alone .

The muggles seemed worried at first. They kept the window curtains drawn and talked in hushed, paranoid whispers. Vernon had to use some of his saved-up holiday days and he made absolutely no secret about how much he resented Harry for it, ranting about what a waste Harry was and how he wasn’t welcome here.

(Harry wasn’t welcome in his own home, so he wasn’t quite sure what to think with even the Dursley’s not wanting him.)

A week passed without incident and Vernon returned to work. The curtains were opened and Harry was set to work with a long list of odd jobs to do around the house.

Most of his tasks were lowly even for a house elf: pulling weeds and replanting flowers; washing the wooden panels; or hand-scrubbing oil stains on the concrete driveway. All of it was meaningless busywork . It was just time consuming and more than anything else, degrading .

Harry had been washing the floors with a quiet, intense focus, when Dudley casually waddled in and kicked over the bucket of dirty water, sending it spilling everywhere. Aunt Petunia had shrieked in anger about how her clean floors were now filthy and how Harry couldn’t do anything right.

‘Maybe that’s why your freaky family got rid of you! You can’t do anything right, you waste of space!’

Of course, she’d refused to believe him when he told her that it was all Dudley’s fault. There was no way her precious Dudders did anything like that. She sent him to his cupboard without supper.

At night, he managed to see just the smallest bit through the ventilation flaps on the cupboard door. It was just enough light to find the thin sheets and nestle in the near silence, until he woke up again from stomping steps just overhead.

It took over three weeks for his lightbulb to be properly fixed and Harry himself had to be the one to mend it, though he accidentally cut himself while doing so. When Aunt Petunia bemoaned some sort of muggle disease that you caught from rusty metal, he looked at her blankly, not quite understanding. His mother’s lessons hadn’t gone that far.

That was when she had realised that his upbringing was very different from normal, respectable children. He didn’t need to attend public school. He already knew how to read and write and he’d already learned the expected mathematics. He already knew everything that a wizard was expected to know before going to Hogwarts. He was already well ahead of other children his age and honestly, he was rather baffled with how his cousin was struggling with his school work.

When they realised that Harry wouldn’t be going to public school with his cousin, Petunia started giving him a longer list of tasks to do, while Vernon installed an external lock on his cupboard. They tried to get into his trunk, but thankfully magic locks were impossible for muggles to open and they’d quickly given up on the task.

Harry’s diet now mostly consisted of scraps, or the most burn edges of whatever food he’d struggled to make that day. Most of it bordered the fine line between barely edible and toxic.

Toilet breaks were restricted and outdoor privileges were established and the part of Harry’s heart that hated them flourished in the depravity.

Alone in his cupboard, Harry came to a realisation, an epiphany of sorts that crept up on him over this first month rather than arriving suddenly. His mother knew what the Dursleys were like. She’d been aware of how cruel and selfish they were. And she’d still hoped that Harry would choose to accept this life and leave them, because it was convenient .

It was then, that very moment, that Harry found himself hating Lily just a bit.

The leaves had started to change colour and fall and Harry was sent outside to rake them up and see to the lawn. He did the laundry. He did the cooking. He did the gardening. He was, for all intents and purposes, just a house elf.

But other than giving him an exhaustive list of things to do each day, the Dursleys mostly just left him alone. They pretended not to notice him until it was time to punish him or give him more work, just like some purebloods pretended not to notice their house elves until they had need.

The days began to get colder and shorter, though his list of jobs never did. The large piles of leaves that Harry raked up each day always ended up scattered all over the grass the next morning. Dudley always seemed to wear that smug smirk at the sight of the front garden covered in debris. Vernon seemed particularly frustrated with the lack of progress, but he never lifted a hand against Harry.

He lashed out verbally instead and cruel remarks were common.

At first, Harry had recoiled and flinched from each drop of spittle that landed near him. It was disconcerting that, after months with no contact at all from his family -- he was beginning to doubt they even thought about him at this point -- and near-constant verbal assaults, he was becoming numb to it.

Harry still held out hope -- a fantasy where one of the family’s post owls would swoop in at supper with a letter for him that the threat was gone and he could come home. Or that his mother would burst through the front door and take him back.

Winter arrived and the days didn’t seem to last at all. He now recognised that something ugly had begun to grow inside him. He’d been locked out one night and forced to try to find some slight shelter under the overhang of the back door. He was cold and he was wet and he was miserable and he just wanted his parents to come and get him and take him home.

But James and Lily never came.

He started to let go of the fantasy of being rescued. He started to hate them, James and Lily and Skylar, just a bit, just in the isolation of his cupboard, when he was alone with his thoughts.

Christmas came and went. Harry sat in the darkness, locked up in his cupboard on Christmas Eve. He spent Christmas Day under the stairs in his little cupboard, quietly reading his books under the single replaced lightbulb, with a plastic bowl for a loo. He spent the majority of Christmas break reading at the odd times of night, needing less and less sleep and kept awake by the numbing chill of winter permeating his cupboard. He was so cold and lonely and reading offered him some small comfort against his own treacherous thoughts, whispering that no-one would ever want him.

Instead, he read and practised and tried , over and over, again and again, he tested the theory of magic without ever actually knowing what he was doing.

And on the first of the new year, Harry smiled, happy again for the first time. He’d gotten the lock on his cupboard door to unlock.

‘The wand is used as a conduit.

Magic, similar to the concepts of souls, is an aura surrounding and permeating all living
Things.

Not being magical themselves, Muggles can be affected and altered with focused magic. Muggles are unable to store influxes of magic, thus are unable to harvest or use it on their own.

Wizards are able to produce and store magic.
Using conduits to direct the flow of magic, a wizard is able to alter the source into a specific object or energy if given enough intent and focus.

Spells are often used to direct magic in a specific fashion, each spell is created carefully to trigger a soul and magic response which will result in the desired effect. When combined with wands and proper wand movements, the magic is directed with an objective and pre-fashioned template which results in the desired outcome.’

Harry closed the thick book once again, running his fingers over the worn cover. The once crisp pages had long since become soft and almost fuzzy to the touch. Along the spine it had been stained with dirt and grease from his fingers. The back left corner of the book had cracked, the leather split from where it had hit against the floor a little too harshly. The letters were dulled and scratched, Magical Theory and Phenomena, was more difficult to read without struggling.

Harry had read the heavy book cover to cover twice already, understanding more the second time around. The theory of magic was more useful to him than the other book of spells. Although the book of spells did list countless spells and charms that did seem fascinating, Harry didn’t have a wand, so he couldn’t very well use the meticulously detailed descriptions of wand movements and pronunciations.

The last book he brought, Scalding Scales, was one of his favourites. He took comfort in the many pages, each drawn with magical ink which was charmed to move and swish
with each bat of the creature’s tails.

He had opened his books many times in the dead of night, when he’d woken up unexpectedly, finding himself locked in the small cupboard. Watching Eelhounds swim through drawn water, or Swedish Shortsnout’s breathing fire into the sky was enough to help him forget where he was, for a time anyway.

The days became longer and warmer and the frosts less frequent and less harsh.  Harry’s hands bled as his relatives put him back to work in the garden again.

His stomach had shrunk as he grew accustomed to less food. He found that fewer things amused him. The pages in his book only brought back nostalgia which was only painful to think about.

He set the book in his trunk, and locked it with a snap of his fingers. He had gotten good at unlocking and locking.

Dudley found it funny that his cousin had to work even in the rain, and he took great pleasure in tripping Harry and smashing him into the cement, soaking him to the bone while Dudley stayed dry in his brand new anorak.

Harry stumbled inside, dripping water only to be knocked back outside by a broom. Petunia had screamed angrily about how he was ruining her floors, never mind that Harry was the one who cleaned them.

Dudley came outside, having invited his friends over. One particularly rat-faced boy sneered at Harry and pushed him roughly to the ground.

Harry hit the ground, blinking blankly. He nearly hadn’t realized what exactly happened- except the sudden throbbing on his back. He was distantly aware of them chortling at him.

It hurt.

Something in Harry snapped.

And then suddenly the rat faced boy screamed, his hands flew to his face and blood seemed to absolutely pour.

Dudley screamed, scrambling backwards and the blood spurted onto the wet pavement between them, staining the concrete crimson.

Petunia threw open the front door, screeching something in horror as the boy, Piers, was shouting and flailing.

People were shouting, shouting directly at him .

Harry felt someone grab the back of his waterlogged clothing, dragging him away from the mess on the cement driveway.

A fist hit his cheek, knocking his skull even harder onto the ground, and making him see stars. There was a deep throbbing and a small flash of warmth pounding behind his eyes. His neck felt wet and his stomach twisted with the sudden jerk of nausea.

His eyes rolled into his head when he felt something wet slide further down his neck. It was uncomfortably warm.

Harry was told that he had punched Pierce in the face, breaking his nose and sending him to the hospital to have it reset. The Dursley’s promised the mother of the hysterical boy that they would punish Harry for his outlandish behavior.

Harry was locked in his cupboard for three days. They’d given him just enough food to last, two cans of soup and a few bottles of water thrown at him before Vernon slammed the door shut and locked it with an ominous, final click.

Harry was returned to darkness, his uncle’s unintelligible shouts and curses just on the other side of the thin door.

He didn’t dare unlock the door or turn on the light when he could still hear the creaks of heavy footsteps just outside his cupboard.

Time blurred and distorted in a strange mixture of lethargy and restlessness.

His fingers ran over the pages of his books, already read and reread multiple times and each spell nearly memorized. The comforting smell of old paper was gone and had been replaced with the faint smell of rat urine.

He could hear Vernon laugh loudly, a muffled clinking of silverware on precious porcelain plates. They were having dinner; Harry’s stomach cramped hungrily.

His fingers twitched as he trailed them over the worn vanes of the quill he had snuck into his trunk. It was old, fraying and broken on the very tip. Entirely useless.

“Incendio,” Harry whispered. Nothing happened.

He leant forward slightly more, holding the quill closer to his face with more determination. “Incendio- Incendio!”

Harry snarled his nose angrily and threw the quill forcefully away. Instead, it fluttered disappointingly down to land with the softest of whispers. He couldn’t even throw a proper tantrum.

Harry flopped backwards, hands rising to rub against his eyes. They burned, and for no comprehensible reason he felt a hoarse sob escape from his throat.

Knowing that the Dursley household could and most likely would, punish him further for interrupting dinner, he rolled and pressed his flat pillow against his mouth to muffle any cries.

Why was it fair, that they hated him for being a wizard?

‘Skylar probably already knows how to do this.’ That treacherous voice whispered in the silence. Harry felt a mess of anger and self-pity rise up, warring for control of his thoughts. He trembled in the dark, ‘He’s already so much better than I am.’

He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep or when he woke up the next day, he didn’t bother actually getting up. He didn’t actually have the space to anyway. The room was dark, and there was no difference between standing or lying when you couldn’t see as well.

He didn’t see the point.

The house was filled with muffled voices, some he didn’t recognize and others he did. He heard Dudley leave, and his distinct voice wasn’t heard again for some time. It must have been a weekday, Dudley leaving for school.

Time passed and Harry alternated between nearly screaming or collapsing motionlessly for hours on his cot.

Things didn’t matter, while at the same time, everything mattered.

“It’s not fair,” Harry raged quietly, hands clawing in a repeated motion over and over on his exposed hipbones where his shirt rode up. The skin was red and irritated from his long untrimmed nails digging in.

“Why?” He cooed half calm and half hysterical.

‘Magic is an extension of the soul,’ Harry thought almost from an outwards perspective, ‘The soul is derived of emotions. I have to mean it, to crave it,’

Harry’s head lolled to the side, piercing the dark with dulled green as he spotted the faint outline of the quill on the floor some distance away.

“I want it,” Harry hissed, the words nearly distorting with how long he carried the vowels. His face twitched and he extended one hand towards the quill, a headache pounded against his skull and exhaustion weighed painfully on his bones.

“Incendio.”

The quill burst into flames.

Indiscernible in the dark, Harry smiled.

Chapter Text

The first plants started to sprout, heralding spring. The warmth was a welcome change from the numbing cold. The Dursleys went out and bought Dudley an entirely new wardrobe; he had somehow managed to outgrow all of his shorts over the winter.

Harry was now outside more often. There were weeds to be pulled and flowers to be tended to. He continued his manual labour with sharper glares and louder silence. He refused to speak, oftentimes not even responding to Petunia’s hissed demands from the kitchen window. He had learned to nod after she spoke, better to avoid getting smacked by the broom once again.

(The broom had broken. Aunt Petunia was obviously startled and hadn’t intended for it to leave such a large bruise on his back, yet didn’t confess her guilt if it existed at all.)

His daily tasks consisted of working outside in the hotter months, occasionally taking quick drinks from the hose when nobody was watching. He planted the many flowers and shrubs Petunia purchased from the garden centre, digging holes and removing grubs when he found them.

Dudley would return home and casually smack him around, sometimes with friends if any accompanied him, and he would resume work until Petunia had scrounged dinner. Then he would be sent to his cupboard, occasionally being allowed to take a quick shower. The whole thing would repeat itself the next day when Dudley woke up.

It was busy work, physically demanding but it let him have plenty of time to think.

Harry knew that underage wizards weren’t allowed to perform magic outside of a certified premise or outside of a proper estate. He knew for sure that he wasn’t allowed to perform magic in front of muggles.

Looking around furtively, he set a sickly looking tulip aflame, sweating with the exertion.

He spent the rest of the day scanning the skies and the fence posts of Privet Drive, looking for the sure sign of a Ministry owl.

None showed up that day.

Or the day after.

Harry smiled grimly. He now knew he could perform magic, without the Ministry knowing.

Late February he thrust himself into studying the single aged tome he had secured a lifetime ago. He read and muttered and practiced quietly in the dark when he couldn’t sleep, or when he was sent outside for hours alone.

Harry grinned breathlessly, twitching his hands and whispering under his breath in the middle of the day. Anthills smoldered and the small insects scattered. Dried and brown leaves from last autumn burnt the fastest. Anything green, he learned, smelt foul and only gave off loads of smoke.

The more he practiced, the easier it became to set things on fire.

Unlocking his cupboard, although he hadn’t found an actual spell in his book for unlocking things, was easier now than it had been. Despite how horrible his living conditions were, and how he loathed the Dursley’s, he was rather optimistic now.

(He still occasionally had days where he didn’t bother crawling out of his cupboard; when he woke up still expecting to see Lily and James. He became better and better at just ignoring those thoughts.)

Easter Holiday changed it.

He was outside, weeding the garden with torn clothing that had once upon a time been his. They were now stained and worn far past the endurance of the charms placed on them. A particularly pesky weed had him grasping its thorny stalk, heaving backwards with both arms, using his weight as leverage.

Something grazed against his side and he scrambled to his feet. He blinked, dazed and confused, what had hit him? Was it a squirrel or a bird? Some other animal that had hit him before escaping without being seen?

His hands touched something wet and he inhaled shakily. Actually seeing the red against his skin triggered the overwhelming sensation of pain.

He choked down a scream, hands pressing through the tear in his shirt against the gash in his side. It was lazily dripping down his skin and staining the side of his shirt further.

Dudley gave some sort-of delayed cry of surprise. Harry spun, looking for his attacker only to see his baffled cousin and his friends. Dudley was holding an industrial slingshot Petunia had bought him last Christmas.

‘What was-’ His thinking broke once he saw what had hit him, a decent sized rock with a few sharp edges.

Dudley blinked slowly, lowering the slingshot before releasing a piercing wail which instantly led Harry to clench his teeth.

Petunia hurried out to see what was going on, wringing her hands and rushing to her son. Dudley cried out something else, pointing with pudgy fingers at Harry while his friends ran.

Petunia’s face tightened as she looked at Harry sharply. Her expression was pinched as she stomped over the grass, grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the house. “Come on,” She hissed out sharply, eying his side, “And no bleeding on the floor.”

Harry’s face twitched in annoyance, it wasn’t like she had cleaned the floors.

She yanked him inside towards the kitchen, fetching the rag Harry used to polish the iron burners on the stove. It was already blackened with polish, replaceable in her eyes.

“Here,” She grunted, snatching a series of rags in similar shape, band aids, and masking tape from nearby drawers, “Clean yourself up and don’t,” her eyes flashed, “touch anything.”

Harry took the offered supplies sourly and locked the bathroom door behind him.

The gash wasn’t large. It wasn’t deep either, yet it seemed to continuously ooze out red like a wet sponge.

He shoved in the several rags, waiting until they had been soaked before taking them away. Everytime he tried, it would tear out the gooey clots just beginning to form, and start bleeding again.

Finally he settled with pushing in one rag, clenching his jaw against the searing throb, and using the masking tape around his waist to hold it in place. It held, he returned the unused rags, and was sent to his cupboard.

“ Sanatas. ” Harry hissed, flushing angrily when nothing happened.

“Sanatas!” He tried again, more insistently this time, his voice wavering in his frustration. The crippling sensation of doubt started to worm its way through his forced bravado. “Sanatas!”

The skin around ugly black scab on his side itched and tingled uncomfortably. Harry groaned softly, smacking his fist against the small cot next to him in frustration.

What was he doing wrong? He’d done exactly what it said in the book, even checked his pronunciation multiple times just to make sure. The scrape refused to heal like Harry wanted. Instead it just tingled and itched never letting him forget about his injury. It was possible the constant buzzing of pain was clouding his ability to focus his magic.

Dudley was back in school, a true blessing considering for the first while only twisting a specific way would crack the scabs and cause the bleeding to start again. It had oozed a foul-smelling pus, to the point where Aunt Petunia had thrown a small tube of paste at him, ordering him to deal with it.

Now, it was a thick heavy scab with bumps and ridges on its surface.

“ Sanatas. ” Harry tried again, swallowing and trying to direct the flow of something he couldn’t see into his side.

In a moment of blind panic, Harry wondered if maybe his magic was gone, if maybe this was why people didn’t use wandless magic. He cried out, then instantly realised his mistake and covered his mouth.

The damage was done, he heard the shuffle of movement above him and then the loud thudding sound of footsteps thundering down the landing towards the stairs. Uncle Vernon was awake. Harry’s eyes widened in horror of the consequences, and he scrambled backwards on his cot, yanking his shirt down to try and hide what he’d been doing.

Vernon threw the door open. “What are you screaming about!” he thundered, his beedy little eyes glittering malevolently in the dark. “We have had enough of your racket!”

Harry tried to shuffle further back, tried to escape Uncle Vernon’s reach. The obese man  grabbed his ankle and forcefully pulled him from the cupboard under the stairs. Harry bit his tongue to crying out in pain as his shirt rubbed against the sensitive skin.

Vernon, not noticing or, more likely, not caring, yanked.

Harry scrambled with his hands to find something -- anything -- to grab hold of as he was bodily dragged out. Already his leg hurt from the intense pressure and blood was pounding in his head.

Vernon stomped through the kitchen and wrenched open the backdoor, dragging Harry along behind him. Still grunting something about how Harry wouldn’t make any sort of distracting noise in his home, Vernon threw the small boy out.

Privet Drive was dark and cool at night. The cool night air felt almost soothing to the scrape which had, once again, cracked open. Harry could already imagine the bruises forming where Vernon had grabbed him.

Vernon had kicked him out, Harry thought in a dazed haze of disbelief. His uncle had actually kicked him out.

Harry was filled with the sudden, overpowering desire to run, to disappear into the dark and leave behind the Dursleys’... and leave behind everything.

But then Lily won’t know where you went, a quiet voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Harry hugged his knees and tried to calm his breath so he didn’t break down into sobs.  He wanted to run away, but there was obviously some small part of him that still wanted his parents to come and rescue him.

He didn’t know what to do.

Summer eventually took spring’s place, schools were let out, and Harry was bombarded daily with rocks, insults, and the occasional water balloon. His cousin had learned nothing, though Harry wasn’t sure what he’d actually expected.

It was manageable. He stuck to the shadows of the house and only interacted with the Dursleys when he absolutely had to. Often times he could get by without saying anything the entire day-- nobody actually initiated conversation. He began to wonder what a genuine conversation was like, he couldn’t remember.

The oppressive dry heat of June officially ruined the last clean clothes Harry had brought with him. Sweat and dirt had stained his clothes and left a permanent smell that wouldn’t come out no matter how many times he washed them. It was only a matter of time until Aunt Petunia threw them out.

June 23, Harry was released from his hard cupboard only to weave through the mound of wrapped boxes and gifts in the living room.

37 presents, which was one less than last year, apparently. Dudley had shouted and started throwing a temper tantrum. Watching the obese boy shed crocodile tears, Harry felt sickened. The presents filled the room and left little space to walk. His parents soon managed to placate their screaming son by promising to get him two more on the day’s outing.

Which Harry was forced to come along on.

(More realistically though, the Dursleys didn’t trust him enough to leave him home alone. Petunia had started to have suspicions that Harry could escape from his cupboard.)

This left him following quietly along to the zoo.

Harry trailed behind the Dursleys, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible.

He didn't particularly want to be associated with them, obnoxious-looking tourists even in their own country, but he knew that running off or disappearing on his own wouldn't end well for him later.

The muggle zoo was fascinating. Harry hadn't the opportunity to visit any sort of animal habitats since the dreaded and eventful night a year ago. Since then even the thought of seeing a collection of animals left him with a loud frantic pulse and a nauseating dizziness. Regardless, he couldn't find it in himself to admit that the assortment of fur and feathers interested him more than most everything.

Seeing real tigers without fangs or African gazelles lacking spines and extra horns was a surreal experience. Although most were lethargic in the midday heat, they each possessed a sort of mesmerizing beauty other people didn't seem to recognize.

He felt a deep seated fury bubbling up inside as Dudley and his friends continued to ponder the activity of hurling empty beverage containers or small rocks into the enclosures. His fingers clenched and unclenched when one boy actually hurled himself against the glass and thoroughly terrified one sleeping sea-lion.

The next step on the zoo tour was to visit the large imposing facility on the far side. It was embellished with decorative artificial jungle vines and large sandy boulders. The letters had been painted on in bright green: Reptile Den.

Entering the Reptile Den, Harry once more felt his heartbeat quicken. The air smelled stale in here, the humidity and filtered air of a carefully controlled climate. He stood in the middle of the hallways to avoid being too close to the lizards and staring crocodiles. The tank to his right featured an abnormally large turtle and a few dozen small fish.

He flinched when Dudley this time complained loudly and rudely about the waste of space each lizard was, evidently due to their inactivity. His voice bounced and distorted off the glass walls of the many tanks.

Harry twitched, already uncomfortable and tense from his rising anxiety and loathing for the blatant mistreatment his cousin displayed towards the creatures.

"Make it move!" Dudley complained loudly. He watched approvingly as Uncle Vernon huffed and rapped his cane sharply against the glass. The python behind the glass jolted back, eyes narrowing as it started to shake alarmed and confused.

Harry hated this. How could anyone care so little for a living thing?

Dudley cheered once a particularly loud whack stirred the snake into hissing and rearing. The action was entirely defensive, its tail whipped around wildly as its coils tightened protectively.

"Blasted thing," Vernon grunted, mustache twitching as the snake hid its head, "better use as a pair of shoes if I say so myself."

Harry's eyes widened. He shifted a little to watch the snake around his uncles girth. One of Dudley's friends, having been watching the crocodiles raced over to view the now active snake.

"Move it, freak!" Piers shouted, elbowing sharply into Harry's side and knocking him to the floor. He landed on sore elbows below a hot sandy showcase.

Pierce raced around Vernon before he clapped both hands harshly against the glass. It echoed, making the snake violently flinch and move for any sort of exit.

"Look at it squirm! " Piers laughed, clapping the glass again, "The ones at home don't squirm like that, do they Dudley?"

Harry grit his teeth and before his eyes, quite magically in fact, the boy leant forward and fell into the habitat.

Harry stared as Piers screamed, scrambling backwards as the mighty python rushed to freedom. Dudley screamed, jumping back against the wall as the snake hissed loudly.

Vernon belted something ugly while Aunt Petunia shrieked, clutching her purse to her chest.

" Oh, deserved." Harry heard, a snickering sound in a dialect just slightly off from English.

The python hurried, weaving between the concrete benches and decorative fake plants towards the exit, it hissed out a muffled yet distinct cry of " Goodbye !"

Harry watched the snake with a small smile, it seemed that the python triggered a chain reaction. Reptiles and similar snakes rose and jumped to attention. The reptile house was filled with the growing crescendo of rattlers and hisses and whispering voices.

Dudley and his friends ran, screaming at the glass enclosures which miraculously remained in tact. Vernon grabbed his wife and fled, with a muffled cry of, "no more of this freakish nonsense!"

Harry was left alone, in the growing din whispers while a few rattlesnakes prodded their glass walls curiously.

"Not open?" One whispered, muffled through the glass.

A coiled pit viper cackled something happily and danced on its synthetic plants. A large cobra flared it's hood and rambled out a series of words conveying its frustration.

"Not free? No sad, still funny." The voice behind him hissed again, humor in its tone. "Thank, magic hatchling."

"What?" Harry blurted, blinking and not feeling the specific accent that he’d had before. "What?" He repeated.

The snake pulled back, flickering it's tongue timidly " you speak?"

"Er, hello? " Harry offered, spotting it's dark scales and bright slit eyes, " How do you know it was me?"

The snake wavered, unsure yet interested. "You stay. They flee." The snake pulled out further and raised itself. It wasn’t very big. " You magic, make things ."

Harry nodded slightly. "I have magic. But most people don't know about it. How do you know?"

The snake paused, stiffening as if it was trying to comprehend the words, " I den with magic. Make prey make happy."

Harry frowned, " you were born with magic ?" He struggled, not used to extended verbal interaction.

The snake slid further out onto a sandy rock, it looked at Harry enthusiastically, "den-mates magic. Humans, make prey."

Harry smiled a fraction and touched the glass, looking at the creature with slight awe . "I don't live with people that have magic. My family does-- I mean did. I don't live with them anymore." Harry swallowed, "They're gone because it's not safe. But I don’t think I’m safe here either."

"Hatchlings left. Den-mates left, alone too. " The snake offered, ducking its head slowly, "Alone in box."

Harry frowned at the snake, " you lived with wizards? Was it dangerous?"

" No bite! No human prey ." The snake flicked it's tongue wildly, " some human nice. Some cruel."

Harry nodded slowly, "some humans are cruel too. And some try but they just- " Harry ignored the lump in his throat " sometimes they have to leave you . Sometimes they don’t care and sometimes they forget. "

"Magic human sad."

"No, no I'm not--"

"Sad too." It quietly added.

Its scales were very small. A mixture of dark brown or black, its eyes were alert.

"Harry, " the boy offered, " my name is Harry."

The snake flicked it's tongue, " magic child Harry. Den-mate Harry? " It mused, voice wavering with as much hope and hesitant longing as it could disguise.

"I- " Harry stumbled, shifting backwards and looking towards the entrance to the reptile house, " I can't-"

"Oh, " it stated quietly, shifting down and curling around tightly. The action revealed just how small the snake really was, " I okay. Stay in box. " It soothed.

Harry looked at it, wavering and watching as it crumpled into something mournfully sad. "I'm sorry."

"No. No sorry. " The snake argued, " expected. No sorry. I have box."

Harry winced slightly and the snake seemed determined now to prove him wrong.

"Look, I-"

"I have box. Heat and cold prey sometimes. Space!" It urged, thrashing out its tail, narrowly avoiding the walls.

Harry swallowed and touched the glass once again. He was only partly speaking to the little snake now. "You're the first thing interested in talking to me. Normally it's my brother. Normally I'm the one saying it's okay... "

‘But is it really?’ That doubting little voice asked. ‘Has it ever been okay?’

Harry’s eyes narrowed and his hand curled into a sudden fist, heart hardening in resolve. “It doesn’t matter because they don’t care .”

He eyed the snake through the glass, suddenly relaxing. He felt a sudden longing that was easy to place. He had something in common with this little snake. They’d both been abandoned by their families, cast aside like they were worthless.

Harry’s insides twisted and he wasn’t sure what exactly he was feeling.

He reached through the glass with the sensation of breaching water. The snake hissed in surprise, not opposing how gently Harry hoisted the serpent into the air. It wrapped its body around Harry's hand, coiling between his fingers for a more secure hold.

It twitched once traveling through the glass, tail thrashing in excitement as it flicked it's tongue quickly.

"You won't bite me, right ?" Harry asked cautiously, lifting the eighteen inch snake closer to his face.

"No bite ." The snake assured, " you help now I help. "

" Help?" Harry echoed. Already he felt lighter. He’d found a kindred spirit. Someone who understood.

"Help, " the snake confirmed firmly. "I help Harry."

Harry felt a genuine smile spread across his face. The glossy dark scales reflected the dim overhead lights.

"Are you dangerous?" Harry asked, rising from his knees and brushing off dirt with his unoccupied hand.

"Yes! Nasty bite! Humans careful. No bite humans unless Harry say bite," the snake offered. It sounded quite hopeful and seemed pleased with itself when Harry nodded.

"You have to stay quiet and you can’t move, " Harry explained carefully, "I can't have Petunia,Vernon, or Dudley know about you."

The snake stared and flicked it's tongue.

" Can you hide ? Will you be cold? " Harry asked, growing worried with how he was going to smuggle out a snake.

"Winter. " It stated simply and slowly started to climb up Harry's arm under his shirt and summer jacket. Harry flinched at the foreign touch, the snake seemed to slip a few times but after a few careful undulations it managed to nestle wrapped around his underarm and the top of his shoulder.

Harry stood wobbly and walked, carefully feeling for if the snake slid. It held, and Harry slid out of the exit doors, just as a group of zookeepers hurried by with special equipment that Harry guessed might be used to catch the runaway python .

Finding the Dursleys and friends were easy afterwards. Petunia was watching a zookeeper with hawk-like scrutiny. The zookeeper had been kneeling, talking to Dudley and his friends at eye level. Harry slipped around quietly and stood behind his uncle.

"-bout that? You can pick anything from the giftshop," Harry overheard the stressing zookeeper. He confirmed to the sniffing Dudley. The zookeeper rose, looking very apologetic. "I'm very sorry sir, I don't know how the enclosure was not secure."

Vernon sniffed and clicked his cane on the ground loudly, "you lot are lucky that ruddy cretin didn't bite my boy!" He thundered, pointing his cane at the quickly floundering zookeeper. "Sue! Sue we will! This bloody establishment should be shut down and all of those brutish creatures be put down!"

The zookeeper’s expression quickly transformed into something of annoyance and masked irritation. When he spoke, his tone was clipped. "Sir. I am sorry that your experience was less than pleasant. Countless other guests have enjoyed our reptile exhibits and the various rare and endangered species on display--"

"Oh they better be endangered! I'd have them gone! Good to see others haven't lost their minds!" Vernon fumed, turning sharply and stomping loudly. "-and you! " Vernon fumed, finally having noticed Harry.

Petunia's eyes widened and she gave a little gasp. Harry shifted uncertain as her expression twisted into something ugly.

"Vernon." She crisply stated, grasping his arm sharply, "let's go ."

Harry fidgeted.

Harry managed to drop the snake outside when fake falling out of the car. The snake, confused but obliging, slid under the car and hid.

Vernon was furious, grabbing Harry’s shirt by the back collar, all but dragging him inside the house. Harry felt a jab of irritation, morbidly wondering how long he would be trapped in his cupboard this time, or how else he would be punished.

Once Piers and the rest of Dudley’s friends left, Petunia and Vernon began to scream. Each voice adding to the chaotic cacophony once they had clued in that the python was his doing.

Harry stared at the center of the kitchen table. He was tempted to set it ablaze.

“Are you listening, boy!” Vernon roared, reaching out to smack Harry on the back of his head. Having not anticipated it, Harry lurched forward and bumped his forehead on the table.

“Vernon!” Petunia shrieked, taken aback by the sudden violence.

Harry lifted his head from the table, one hand drifting to his forehead to feel the skin tenderly.

Vernon spluttered, obviously surprised himself. Harry turned, eyes blank as he slowly looked at Vernon.

Vernon’s clothes burst into flames.

It wasn’t severe, nothing dangerous but it was a split second of heat-- hungry tendrils licking from his shoulders and burning the tips of his mustache.

Petunia screamed, grabbing the tablecloth and tearing it away. A vase of daisies on the table shattered on the floor and she hurriedly used the cloth to pat out the flames.

Vernon spun, looking horrified at Harry. He couldn’t manage a single word, instead gasping out noises of confusion and anger.

And perhaps fear?

Harry slid off the chair, one hand flitting to his forehead where a bump was forming. He walked, creating dead silence with each step, and closed the door to his cupboard behind him.

Three more locks were installed that night.

Harry unlocked them all.

Chapter Text

“What’s your name?” Harry asked, peering down at the small snake which coiled around his wrist.

“Name?” It questioned, flicking its tongue curiously. “No name, Den-Harry.”

They were hidden away in a park just down the road from the Dursleys’. Harry had created a soft glow with no real source, just enough for him to see by really. The subtle warmth of magic thrummed under his skin, feeling almost tangible. Harry had forgotten the multiple times since his outburst, that his blood was only deep red and not illuminated by the magic pulsating with each heartbeat. He had plenty of opportunities to try and remember this fact, Dudley and his friends were almost obsessive with maiming him whenever possible now.

“Just Harry,” he corrected, using one hand to pet the sleek back of the snake. H ( e enjoyed the feeling of its scales; he’d expected the snake to feel slimy, but it was smooth and dry. Its scales were a dark brown, almost black, but they had a faint, splotchy pattern: dirt stained, like Harry’s own fingers.

“I could name you, if you’d like?”

“Den-Harry, yes.” It flicked its tongue, catching itself quickly. “No Den-Harry, Harry?”

Harry nodded his head, before realising that the small snake probably didn’t understand human body language enough to know what a nod meant . They had totally different bodies after all, Harry and his little friend. “ That’s right. I am Harry. ”

“I am?” It asked, its voice rising at the end to indicate a question.

At first, he’d thought talking to a snake would be just like talking to another person, only with foreign-sounding hissing, which, to Harry, sounded just like English anyway. The little snake didn’t understand the majority of the bigger words though, some of the bigger concepts. Its vocabulary was very limited. It made talking with it a challenge, but an interesting challenge.

Realising that his little friend was asking for its name, Harry tilted his head, looking at the serpent curiously. “I’m reading a book, the creator of this spell is Nikkoli Lutain. I don’t know what it does. But the name sounds interesting.”

“ Lutain? ” The little snake asked, pausing in what seemed like concentration, “ I...am? ”

Harry nodded, then, remembering himself, he smiled. “ You’re Lutain. ”

The snake looked as confused as Harry thought a snake might look. “You’re Lutain?”

Was it the contractions that the little snake didn’t understand? He thought about it for a moment, then realised that the problem might’ve been one of perspective.

“Okay, I am Harry. You are Lutain. In your eyes, I am Lutain, you are Harry,” Harry said, gesturing with his hands, before realising again that, since snakes didn’t have hands, his gesturing might not mean anything to the little snake.

It seemed to understand despite the language gap. “I am Lutain! You are Harry! You are Harry no prey!”

“ Not prey, ” Harry agreed.

“You are Harry,” It hissed gleefully, “You are not prey.”

“What Harry prey?” Lutain asked one day, curling around a flower pot while Harry pruned carnations by the side garden.

“What is Harry’s prey.” Harry corrected instantly, not looking up from where he tugged at a few browning stalks. They’d been working on overcoming the language gap between them.

“What is Harry’s prey?” Lutain repeated, flicking its tongue.

“Well,” Harry started. “I am human. I eat many things, sometimes I can eat certain plants or fruits. I can eat meat, but we eat larger animals like pigs and cows. ”

“Plants?” Lutain seemed baffled, “Human prey plants?”

Harry plucked off a dandelion that was trying to grow up through the ground. He held it up for Lutain to see, then stuffed it in his mouth.

Lutain reared back, hissing in disgust, “Not plant! Not want!”

Harry smiled. “Plants we eat are called vegetables.”

“Vegetables, not want,”  Lutain rephrased firmly. “Vegetables, I not want.”

“I do not want.” Harry corrected.

Lutain slid forward, flicking its tongue against the dandelion stump where some sap was beading. “I...I do not want vegetables.”

Harry smiled. He reached down, holding his out hand and Lutain wriggled against it, pleased. For the first time in a long while, Harry chuckled.

“When do Harry shed?” Lutain asked quietly, peering at Harry’s skin curiously. Harry paused, looking over his shoulder where Lutain coiled on his cot. He had smuggled the snake inside earlier that day; it was supposed to rain that night.

“Humans have skin. Snakes have scales.” Harry explained, finding a shirt to change into, “Humans heal their skin over time.”

“No shed mark?” Lutain tasted the air with its tongue, then moved its head closer to something on Harry’s body. Its tongue flickered out again, tickling his side.

Harry peered down at his body and saw the thin scar along his side from where Dudley had grazed him with his slingshot. It was an angry red still.

“No, the mark may fade. Some scars do. Some scars never will,” Harry offered, brushing his fingertips over the raised skin.

“Humans skin no want. Humans skin hurt.”

Harry hummed in agreement, pulling on his shirt and moving to sit on the bed next to the snake, “You know, I never asked what gender you are.”

“Gender?” Lutain asked curiously.

Harry thought for a moment. “Eggs? Do you lay eggs?”

“No eggs! Lutain no eggs.” Lutain hissed.

“If you don't have eggs, you’re male. If you do, you’re female,” Harry explained, reaching for the one well-loved spell book, “I am male. You are male. Male and Female are genders.”

Lutain nodded as if understanding, peering curiously as Harry pulled up the book and opened it to a specific page, a certain spell he had been working on. “ This is a book of spells. ”

“ Book? ”

“ Talking, each marking is a letter and letters together makes a word. You can look at the letters and understand what someone says. ”

The little snake’s tongue flickered and it brought its head closer to the old pages. There was, of course, no way for it to actually know how to read; it had no idea at all what each of the words said, or even what sounds were represented by which squiggles on the page.

Harry didn’t mind, in fact he enjoyed the conversation. He wasn’t quite as lonely anymore, now that he had someone to talk to.

It was when Dudley blamed an injury on Harry, that his living arrangements once again changed. Brookdale Residency was a large white building on the outskirts of anywhere. It was just miles of countryside in every direction, bordered only by a small copse of trees on the furthest south side. The building had large windows shrouded by dull blue curtains. There was a porch swing by the front doorstep.

“Here we are!” Vernon thundered, seeming quite pleased as he heaved up the steps using his cane. He rapped his cane against one of the decorative white pillars under the overhang. “Wonderful establishment, this one here!”

“Where are we?” Lutain hissed quietly, from just under Harry’s shirt around his left shoulder.  Harry didn’t dare answer his little friend.

A tall, thin woman stepped out. She was taller than Aunt Petunia and wearing shoes which gave her a few extra inches. She peered down at Harry and Uncle Vernon with an imperious , pinched expression.

“Leave the trunk here,” she ordered, nodding to the porch. Her voice was a sharp, no-nonsense kind of voice. “I’ll have one of the workers carry it inside.”

“Excellent!” Vernon blustered, wheezing and leaning on his cane. “So, you...” He motioned between Harry and the woman. He wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes. “Yes.”

Turning quickly and lifting one hand in a half-hearted and entirely insincere wave, Vernon hurried back towards the car without ever looking back.

The woman crossed her arms, looking down at Harry with a scowl. The sound of Vernon’s car tearing away, leaving Harry behind with this complete stranger was background noise to what she said next. “Brookdale Residency is an orphanage. It’s where children who have no family, or family that don’t want them, end up.”

Harry twitched slightly.

“Some children are troublemakers, some aren’t. You aren’t going to be one, are you?” she sniffed, her every word dripping disdain.

Lutain stiffened and the low gatherings of a hiss seemed to bristle.

“No,” said Harry, his tone mirroring hers. The woman didn’t seem surprised.

“I am Madam Clover. You will address me as such and obey all rules. Do we have an agreement?” The woman said sternly. It was clearly not a question.

“Master, I do not like human,” Lutain whispered, voice dangerously cold, “I do not like her much.”

“We do.” Harry confirmed, shifting his arm enough to move Lutain slightly.

“Good.” She turned on her heels and walked back into the building.

“Harry want Lutain to bite?” Lutain offered.

“ No, ” Harry murmured under his breath. “We’ll just have to make do. ”

Harry’s room was nestled on the left side of the hallway, four doors down from the stairs. The room was square, in drastic need of a renovation, and had a larger cot with stained sheets. It was already much better than the cupboard.

The company was at times questionably better, and worse. Brookdale Residency was large and mostly empty, because of this each child was gifted an individual room. A bathroom was shared between each neighbouring door, connecting each room to the other. Each room was old, creaking floorboards and broken window ledges. The walls were an off-colour white, the lights were a buzzing fluorescent that made each vein and artery pop just a little more under the skin.

Harry’s trunk sat at the foot of his bed. Although his room came equipped with a wardrobe, he kept all of his belongings in the trunk, with the exception of a few supplied toiletries. He noticed almost instantly that his trunk had shown signs of tampering and his toiletries had been swapped with mud paste.

There were two children in particular who seemed to have a grudge against Harry more than others: David Forestar and Ralph Lingburg.

Harry didn’t know the exact details or their story, but he didn’t care enough to actually learn it either. Both boys had apparently been left at the orphanage at an early age.

Left to his own devices, Ralph wasn’t generally motivated enough to get into much trouble. David was another matter. David had no qualms about attacking or stealing from the younger children. It was when they were together that things got really out of hand.

Both boys were eleven years old and already they were a force to be reckoned with in the small world that encompassed the orphanage. They’d somehow managed to convince the otherwise strict Madam Clover to overlook any incidents when they were unfortunate enough to be caught in compromising situations.

The boys were fascinated with Harry, or rather his apathetic views that were so different from the shriveling mess that most children became. They wanted to get a rise out of him. They broke into his room often, he could tell. They were the ones who had most likely had tampered with and tried to break into his trunk.

Then one day, Harry was at the top of the stairs, intent on going outside for a bit of fresh air and to let Lutain try his best at snatching a mouse in the neighbouring fields, when Suzie Forestar, David’s younger sister, appeared.

Suzie, short for Suzanna, was relatively harmless. She was seven, having just had her birthday a week earlier. Most of the time she was a sweet, naive little girl, but sometimes… sometimes she was a biting gossip who liked nothing more than insulting other people.

That was the mood she was in now.

“Harry!” She snapped out, batting her eyelashes and giving him a large, devious smile. She quickly got in between him and the stairs.

“Care to move? I’m going outside.”

“Are you?” She gasped, hands dramatically covering her cheeks, eyes widening in a mock caricature of real surprise. “Is that what you said to your parents?”

Harry stopped. “What?”

Suzie’s grin widened; normally Harry ignored everything she said. Not this time. He’d taken the bait, he realised a moment too late.

“Or maybe… Maybe your parents just left you!” Suzie accused, with an over-exaggerated sense of false shock. Harry flinched. Suzie nearly squealed, realising that she’d struck a nerve. “Maybe they realised just how freaky you are! Maybe they never loved you at all!”

Harry saw red. Because it was nothing he hadn’t thought to himself, during the long, dark nights in the cupboard under the stairs. His jaw clenched and for a brief moment, all he wanted was for her to take that back, for her to pay .

There was a rush in his ears, a pounding, painful pressure, and his jaw tightened again as she giggled victoriously over his hidden hurt--

And then she was screaming, her arms flailing wildly for something to grab onto as she slipped and fell backwards down the stairs. He watched in shock as the little girl tumbled end over end painfully down the stairs, until she came to rest at the bottom. She started wailing in pain and screaming for help.

Harry heard the hurried footsteps of the adults and likely Madam Clover, rushing from the lower level.

Harry quickly hurried away, one hand sliding into his pocket to wake Lutain and shush him as he headed back to his room and locked the door, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

The incident report for the file had been filled out by suppertime that night. Harry knew that he wasn’t officially mentioned in the documentation. If he was, or if he’d been suspected, they would have sent him to be questioned in Madam Clover’s office.

Unfortunately, one of Suzie’s more impressive skills was spreading rumours quickly and efficiently. By suppertime that night, everyone knew. He wasn’t a fool and it was impossible not to notice that the table he was sitting at was completely empty, while children were practically sitting on each other’s laps at the other tables. They kept throwing him looks, somewhere between glares and anxious peeking. Their quiet whispering filled the room with hushed and hissed conversation which left Harry feeling isolated.

The worst happened when David stormed over, grabbed Harry’s plate of food, and dumped it all over his hair.

Harry felt a flash of anger. Instantly, David leapt back with a cry of surprise and pain. One hand quickly clapped onto his other wrist, where the fading imprint of a red ring was starting to form around his arm.

The next day, they learned that David had somehow developed first degree burns on his left wrist after coming into contact with hot metal. That was the official story anyway, but everyone knew what really happened.

Harry just kept Lutain with him more, now that even the other orphans wanted him to be alone.

Chapter Text

“This is cold rain.”

“It’s snow actually. It’s called snow when it’s white and fluffy like this. It’s frozen rain.”

Lutain poked his head out of Harry’s coat, his small tongue flickering just under Harry’s jaw. “Snew?”

“Snow.” Harry corrected, teaching Lutain yet another word. Lutain had been a very fast learner -- actually suspiciously fast. If it wasn’t for the fact that Harry was almost certain that Lutain wasn’t a magical species, he would have suspected Lutain had been charmed.

Lutain had grown marginally longer. He had always been of decent length, now he was nearing two feet, which wasn’t at all spectacular in the serpent world. He had thickened, something he boasted proudly over since he could now consume large mice.

Winter had come quickly, snow falling just after the end of October and carrying with it the biting chill everyone seemed to hate. The orphanage was not at all insulated against the cold and everyone became as frosty inside as it was outside. Madam Clover was more snappish, David more ruthless, and other children more avoidant. The entire building seemed to whisper of all the strange occurrences, rumors about Harry, ranging from being possessed by demonic beings to the offspring of a cult leader were widespread.

Harry learned that nobody could be trusted and everyone wanted something from you.

(Lutain was the one to point out that by making yourself necessary for everyone else, it secured your position as irreplaceable.)

Harry didn’t have warm clothing; he had only what was brought to him. Of course, families donated clothing or money to the orphanage, but that money and the donations went to the other children first, because Harry had the misfortune of Madam Clover’s frustration and annoyance.

Not that she could ever actually pin anything on him.

Harry stiffened when he was hit in the back by something cold and wet. Pausing, he could hear the snickers of David and Ralph, boasting likely to the younger children about how great their aim was. Harry heard someone, practically an infant, laugh gleefully as David hit Harry once again.

“Flea-coated rodents.” Lutain grumbled, nestling further into Harry’s coat to avoid the freezing cold of the melting snow. Harry twitched as a single trail of water slid down under his threadbare jacket and touched his spine.

“What’s wrong, little Harry?” David laughed, sauntering over in a jacket not looking that much better, tossing a baseball-sized wad of snow in one hand to the other, “Don’t like the cold?”

David snaked his left foot out to whack into Harry’s foot. Ralph, having snuck up behind Harry, ran forward to knock into his shoulders. Not anticipating the tag team, Harry’s arm windmilled as he yelped and crashed face first into the thin layered snow.

David laughed, posing something which made more of the newcomers laugh wildly.

Harry winced and glared at David who looked suddenly more interested.

“What was that?” David gasped, squatting to try and listen, “Are you trying to say something to me?” He clapped loudly, “Well done! I thought you were mute!”

“I don’t have anything to say to someone with your intelligence.” Harry grumbled, propping himself upright on his elbows.

David frowned, and promptly knocked Harry’s face back into the snow.

“Aw, don’t be like that little Harry,” His eyes sparkled in amusement, “Are you giving me the cold shoulder? ”

“Bite me.” Harry hissed out, causing David to frown.

“You’re lucky it’s winter,” David casually mentioned, “If you said that in summer, I bet I could get Clover to think that was a threat against me, with that weird snake that you had.” David sniffed, “Creepy thing, I hope it froze.”

“Snakes hibernate,” Harry dryly pointed out, “I don’t think you could convince her that I can suddenly talk to snakes.”

“Oh I don’t know.” David shrugged, his gaze suddenly very intense, “People think a lot of things about you. Supernatural things,” his lip twitched, “That you can move things without touching them, or I don’t know, push my sister down a flight of stairs.”

David looked much too friendly for the conversation to actually be that.

“So!” David chirped, “I just have to protect the rest of all of us from your weirdness and make sure you don’t go around messing with my sister.”

“Don’t play with fire, David,” Harry warned, “You’ll get burned.”

David’s expression fell somewhat dark, his one hand moved instinctively to the faint burn scar around his wrist.

“You’ll pay for that, Harry.”

“You’re the one who kisses up to Clover. You have more money than I do.” David’s nostrils flared and he looked up at Ralph who was waiting for some unagreed signal. He seemed at a loss. “Why don’t you just leave me alone for once? You don’t want to start something you can’t stop.”

“Oh shut up.” David howled, punching downwards messily.

Although the strike was sloppy, Harry was on the ground and didn’t have any chance of avoiding it. He tucked his chin down, taking the hit on the back of his head and feeling it recoil through his neck and shoulders. Ralph jumped in, giving a mighty kick which let the air leave Harry’s lungs in a mighty poof.

Lutain hissed something alarmed and frantic as he tried to wriggle free through the blows. Harry’s ducked head wouldn’t let the snake wiggle through.

“Master!” Lutain shrieked, whipping his tail angrily and panicked.

Ralph managed a kick which somehow knicked the lower half of Lutain’s tail. Lutain cried in pain, curling up and shaking under the coat.

‘Leave Lutain alone!’ Harry thought vehemently, bubbling anger pooling over as he glared through his messy fringe at David, ‘Leave us alone!’

David pulled back his leg to kick before he toppled and fell. His leg sunk through the snowbank, stopping just above his knee. The only strange factor, was that his other leg had found sturdy ground just an inch through the snow.

David had sunk into the ground.

David screamed in surprise and fear, staring at his leg dumbly for a few moments before hollering for Clover and screaming about witchcraft, which Harry found quite amusing.

Harry straightened, getting off the ground and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His nose had started trickling a thin stream, not that anyone was looking at him. Even Ralph had stumbled back, skittering off for safety.

“What did I tell you,” Harry sighed, still highly irritated.

Lutain moaned something quietly, whispering in agony and trembling against Harry’s body.

Why was it that Lutain had to be hurt, he hadn’t done a thing. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t justified for an innocent to be hurt. David should be the one wounded, he had at least been the attacker.

Harry wanted David to hurt.

“When you poke the fire, you get burned.” Harry hissed out, reaching out and snatching David’s hand between his own. He heard the loud hissing crackle without actually feeling anything. The air was filled with an acrid stench of something cooking.

David screamed. Tears overflowed his glassy eyes as he flailed, trying to break free although he couldn’t with one leg burrowed in the frozen ground.

Harry let go sharply, taking a step back. David’s hand smoldered, the skin peeling and shriveling away from his hand like a timelapse video. It smoked and smelled of something rank, looking putrid dark red and swelling already.

“I’ll get Madam Clover,” Harry drawled, swallowing against the small sensation of guilt that was rising in his throat, “I’ll tell her you were trying to play with firecrackers.”

David said nothing, sniffling, staring at his hand in horror and excruciating pain.

Harry turned and walked quickly towards the house, already dreading the accusations and the future whispers that would spread about him.

He doubted David would ever bother him again.

-------------------------------------

David’s hand scarred, a permanent reminder Harry thought. It was a mottled patchwork of dark red and pale pink that would never be smooth again. David hid the ghastly-looking scarring with an old ratty black glove and he was lucky it was his left hand and not the right. Harry had heard that the nerves had been damaged and that David had nearly no fine motor control left in the stiffened fingers and taut skin.

After that, the other children avoided him. The rooms around his were quickly vacated, until Harry was then surrounded by empty rooms. The orphanage staff couldn’t actually prove anything, but it was likely a security precaution. He had been involved in both incidents, after all.

The other children avoided him like the plague whenever he went outside. They lapsed into silence when he walked past, often times retreating entirely into their rooms.

At dinner, nobody talked when he was in the vicinity.

He stopped having dinner at the same time as everyone else.

They didn’t deserve his company anyways.

--------------------------

Christmas was a miserable holiday.

The other children laughed and played with the cheap toys they mysteriously were given, boasting and fighting for the best one.

Suzie picked up her teddy bear and, against the hushed and insistent advice given to her, she turned and pointedly looked at Harry. “Oh, looks like nobody likes you enough to give you a present!”

Harry made sure she woke up to burned cloth and ashes for button eyes.

------------------------

Harry felt a wave of despair hit him the moment the snow began to melt.

Some small part of Harry had been hoping, that perhaps Vernon Dursley would return and take him back. Or even his parents. Harry hoped that they would at least check in on him, then, finding him no longer at the Dursleys’, that they would come to take him home.

But it had been over a year and a half.

Lutain had gone silent, his damaged scales still remaining with a slight kink near the tip of his tail. The snake was now Harry’s only decent conversation and rather skilled at it with Harry’s constant teachings.

“They’re not coming back, are they Lutain?” Harry asked, idly watching the melting snow.

The snake tightened around his wrist for a brief second, but never spoke.

The days were warmer. Behind him he heard the quiet chorus of young children shouting and playing. A slight breeze tugged at the dead grass and new tufts of spring foliage.

Harry closed his eyes. Like the spring breeze, he left himself relax. And he let himself go.

“They’re not going to come back,” Harry repeated to himself, more firmly this time, more decisively. It carried assurance that was often associated with speaking orders. “So I’ll give them something to miss.”

“Like what, Master?” Lutain asked, peering out and slowly sliding out of Harry’s sleeve and onto his lap.

“ I’ll be turning ten near the start of August. On magical children’s eleventh birthday, they’re given a letter of enrollment for the school Hogwarts. Which means, we have little over a year and a half to learn as many spells in that book as possible, ” Harry said.

“Why learn them?” Lutain inquired, “Already can magic heat.”

“ Wizards know more than just that. I need to learn a few more. Enough that I can do some things that Skylar can’t-- ”

“Master.” Lutain interjected, voice quiet and sounding defeated, “I thought you let your birth-kin go?”

Harry felt the instinct to argue rise, but he held it back. Was he still holding on to Lily and James?

Of course he was, that small, dark voice whispered. He was still desperately trying to prove to them that he was worth something. Or maybe he was trying to prove it to himself? He’d been abandoned, cast aside so easily, and every minute of every day that passed was just a little bit more proof of his value to them.

“What would you have me do, Lutain?” Harry sighed, hanging his head and eying a dandelion struggling to sprout. “What does the mighty snake say I should do?”

Lutain flicked his tongue and scented the air.

“Make new kin?” Lutain offered, “Hatchling of own?”

“Lutain!” Harry guffawed, trying to resist the sudden urge to laugh, “I’m not old enough for that!”

“ All humans look same. Tall and scaleless. ”

“ All snakes look wriggly and hairless. ”

“ Toushes. ”

Harry paused, trying to figure out what Lutain had obviously mispronounced. “ ...Toushes? ”

Lutain nodded, agreeing with his word choice in a distinctly human manner. “ Toushes. ”

Harry found himself laughing and was ever so thankful for his reptilian companion. He found out several days later that the word Lutain had remembered wrong was actually touché .

Spring hormonal changes and puberty led to a rise in the testosterone and tension in the building.

Harry had finally relaxed, finding peace in his recent epiphany. Then, his trunk had been set on fire.

Thankfully the seal was magical and impossible to open, that didn’t stop the latches and magical lock from being smashed and damaged beyond use. It would require a spell to unlock the trunk in the state it was now. Harry could have done so, he knew his book detailed a powerful unlocking spell.

Except his book was trapped inside the chest.

He was fueled in a sudden bloodlust, knowing full well that David had attempted arson. The older boy constantly yawned or found excuse to flash his uncovered burn directly in Harry’s line of sight, staring at him in a silent challenge. ‘ Come on, you know you want to. ’

Harry did want to, that was the problem.

Even Suzie had somehow managed to convince her friends and others to rile Harry. Most of the children at the orphanage was well aware of the viciousness between Harry and David. They’d heard the rumors: David had somehow given Harry the scar on his side (which an older boy had seen while stealing Harry’s comb one morning), while Harry had returned the favour with the scar on David’s hand. One rumor went into depth with how Harry had somehow schemed with a now fired cook to press a burning spatula into David’s sleeping palm.

Things had been too quiet, plenty of children had entered the orphanage after Christmas and too many were frothing at the mouth for some sort of action.

It was just bad luck that the straw that broke the camel’s back happened to fall the day two well dressed men visited with the intentions of viewing the children.

Harry was outside (like he always preferred to the stuffy quiet of his room) with Lutain.

David approached, a small mob of wide eyed eager children following a short distance behind. Harry sighed, flexing his arm to signal that Lutain should stay quiet.

“What do you want?” Harry sighed, looking as disinterested as possible as the crowd shifted and formed a half ring around them.

David’s grin widened, Ralph stepping out from the masses to pass something small into David’s hand.

Harry frowned, trying to see exactly what it was that David now had.

“I have a present for you!” David chirped, rocking back and forth on the tips of his toes to the heels, “You’ll love it!”

David opened his hand, and revealed a young garden snake. Harry blinked, looking apprehensively between the snake and David.

“Let down!” It wailed, the voice was feminine although only barely, “Eggs! Down!”

It was a mother.

“What are you doing?” Harry struggled to keep his voice calm, recognizing the situation as being a disaster.

“I know you like snakes!” David beamed, his eyes wide with mock kindness, “I’m being generous!”

“Down!” she wailed, thrashing her tail nervously, “Eggs! Hatchlings! Must protect!”

“Master…” Lutain soothed low and quiet, he too was growing anxious with how desperate the mother was to protect her young.

“Why would I want a snake?” Harry said, voice tense though he tried to hide it.

“Well, you always had that one snake, so I thought I should try one.” David said nonchalantly, trailing his other fist down her body far too roughly. She cried in pain as he gripped her tightly, “I don’t really like it though. My mistake.”

Crack.

Harry jolted, already taking a step forward while the mother snake seemed to howl and hiss in pain. Her lower body didn’t move, lying limp below David’s face.

“ Actually, I take it back. This is kinda fun.” David beamed, hand sliding up an inch before twisting sharply. The snake screamed again as her bones were broken once more.

“Stop it,” Harry growled, voice low and eyes wide in fascinated horror.

“Fine.” David shrugged, eyes getting a wicked gleam as he reached up with one thumb, getting bitten by the weakly snapping jaws of the snake. David didn’t seemed deterred, instead he scowled and grasped the bottom jaw between his fingers.

Harry felt sick, and stared at the chunk of bloody muscle lying on the ground between them.

David laughed, dropped the weakly spasming snake and stomped.

Harry punched David in the nose, this time Lutain said nothing to convince him otherwise.

David laughed as he was tackled to the ground. They rolled, David beaming in breathless enthusiasm as he was punched twice more in the face.

“Why are you smiling!” Harry shouted, moving his knee to David’s gut. The other boy wheezed, still breathless as he raised something in his right hand.

“You’re dead,” David wheezed, blood staining his teeth from where it was pooling out of his nose. His right hand was sloppily holding a knife, stolen from the kitchen.

Oh, of course David still wanted revenge.

Harry scrambled back, scurrying across the dirt on his back. He flinched when his fingers accidentally brushed against the mutilated corpse of the worried mother. He had to force down the sickening vomit that threatened to rise up.

“Come here little Harry!” David cooed, slashing outwards with the knife with full intent to do harm. “You’ve been a pain in all of our arses for a long time and now you’re going to be the one screwed up!”

The crowd of kids cheered.

Harry’s eyes watered and his stomach churned and at what point was this fair!

“Master.” Lutain’s quiet voice brought him back to reality. The snake had slithered down his arm, nestling in the oversized sleeve of his borrowed coat. Lutain was coiled up tightly, like a spring of muscle and scale.

At that moment, Harry had a thought, which seemed to cut through the rising hysteria caused by David’s flashing knife. Alright Lutain, I hope your bite is as painful as you said.

Harry nodded frantically, likely looking psychotic as he shakily stood. David grinned, towering inches above Harry.

“You wanna fight like a man?” David chuckled, the crowd watching eagerly for the knick Harry was undoubtedly going to get. “Well, bring it. ”

Harry swallowed and lifted his one arm, pointing his hand flat and directly at David. David blinked in confusion, it looked like Harry was offering something on his palm.

" Bite him, Lutain. "

David blinked in surprise and started laughing at Harry’s incomprehensible hissing. The children who'd come to gawk mumbled in confusion. Some laughed outright. What was the freak up to?

Lutain lunged. The snake unhinged his jaw, his fangs coming upright as his mouth opened to ridiculous proportions.

David had been too confident he was going to win. He wasn't prepared for Harry's snake. Lutain's fangs pierced somewhere on his upper left shoulder.

Everything seemed to slow to a crawl for Harry. A split second seemed to last forever.

David stumbled back, a confused, dumbfounded look on his face. Around them, the other kids started to react, screaming and scrambling in every direction to get away; was one of them Suzie? Had she seen-

David dropped to the ground, tripping backwards over his own feet. The snake venom couldn't have--

Lutain must've hit a blood vessel, some part of Harry thought. A bloodstain bloomed across David's shirt, quickly getting bigger.

Harry stood transfixed. David just kept bleeding and bleeding. His face had gone pale and his eyes had gone wide.

It was quiet though, almost peaceful. Or maybe Harry was just so focused that he didn't hear David's horrified screaming.

Harry was distantly aware of people rushing over. Someone was screaming David's name. He recognised Madam Clover. She completely ignored Harry, rushing to David's side.

But it was obvious that she didn't know what to do.

David's breath was coming in short, shallow gasps. He wasn't moving quite so much, more twitching than moving really. How much time had gone by?

Muttering hurriedly to herself in words too quiet and too quick for Harry to understand, Madam Clover yanked Davit's shirt up with frantic, shaking hands. His blood was everywhere. How was it possible to bleed that much from such a tiny wound?

"Bloody hell," one of the strangers muttered. It was the first time Harry even noticed their arrival. "It's a ruddy snake bite."

Of course it was a snake bite, Harry thought distractedly.

The other man hissed something quietly to his partner, though Harry couldn't make out the words. He was looking at Harry suspiciously.

All of the blood did come from the two small puncture wounds left behind by Lutain's fangs. There was only a minor amount of swelling around the actual wounds; it was increasing unequally to the rhythmic pulsing of blood from his body.

"For God's sake, do something!" Madam Clover shouted, her voice shrill with panic. She had her hands pressed over the wound, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. They were absolutely covered in David's blood. "Call an ambulance!"

The two men looked at a loss.

David stopped moving. Then he stopped breathing.

Madam Clover wheeled on Harry. Her face was tear-streaked and her eyes burned with a mix of grief and anger. "You did this!"

She grabbed Harry by the shoulders and started to shake him violently. Harry managed to shove her off. Maybe his magic helped him, he couldn't tell. She fell back, sobbing and grief-stricken and refusing to look at him.

And there was guilt there too, as if acknowledging her own part in this. None of it would have happened if she'd just reined David in, instead of turning a blind eye and letting him to become a monster.

Lutain hissed and Harry felt him tense up, ready to strike again.

" No Lutain! "

Harry ignored the strange looks that the two men were giving him. They'd probably just think he was being a freak too; Harry couldn't bring himself to care about their opinions.

" You didn't tell me this would happen. "

" I told you I was dangerous. I strike and they fall. "

He hadn't meant it. Not like that. At least, that's what Harry tried to tell himself. A small part of him though...

" I thought Master said for flea-rodent to die. "

A small part of him knew that David would never mess with him again. Looking down at David's lifeless eyes, a small part of Harry couldn't help but feel satisfied.

He brought this on himself , that small voice in the back of Harry's mind whispered.

Harry agreed. He wanted David to hurt. He wanted David to--

"This is ridiculous," one of the men muttered. He reached into his pocket and he pulled out a wand.

Harry gasped involuntarily, staring in disbelief as the one man pointed it at Madam Clover and muttered a spell. She was knocked down on top of David and she didn't get back up again.

"Alright boy," the other man rasped, pointing his own wand now at Harry. Harry felt a stab of panic. Lutain tensed and hissed menacingly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but tell that thing to calm down. We aren't going to hurt you."

" Lutain, " Harry started, speaking low and cautious. " Back down. "

Lutain grumbled, but seemed to calm down a bit. The man at once seemed to relax.

"Good," said the first man, gruffly.

"Bollocks! What do we do now? What's the plan?" The second man demanded.

"You came here with a plan?" Harry echoed. Maybe he was still feeling the shock himself, but he was beginning to feel suspicious. "Why did you come here?"

"For you, Potter," the first man said. "But now our plan's out the bloody window."

"What--" His partner started. He glanced over at Harry. "Oh you can't be serious--"

"What choice do we have? The boy's a bloody parselmouth!" The first man argued angrily, flicking his wand in Harry's direction. "I say we burn this whole place down, take him, and go. You know the Lord's going to wonder too."

"But Rodolphus--"

"Look, think about it for a minute: a Potter ?" The man now identified as Rodolphus stressed. "Being a parselmouth ?"

The other man seemed conflicted, but he nodded grudgingly.

"Wait-- burn this place down?" Harry said, his brain catching up to their conversation. That sense that something was wrong was suddenly very, very urgent. "I don't--"

"Silence, Potter," the unidentified wizard snapped.

Harry's eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched. There was an uncomfortable pressure between his ears, and before their eyes, the ground around them burst into bright scarlet flames. They licked hungrily at the wizards' boots, though the material seemed to be fireproof.

"Did he just do that wordlessly ?" Rodolphus started.

Harry glared and the other man started chuckling. "Alright, he killed a muggle, speaks to snakes, and can do wordless, wandless magic. Bella is going to love him."

Harry's eyes went wide and Lutain reared. There was an unfamiliar word and a flash of red. Then, blissful unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up to a high pitched squeal and tight arms around his throat. He flailed, hands rising to pry at the bony wrists crushing his neck.

"Oh I love it! It's adorable!" It was a woman's voice, an excited high-pitch. Harry was squeezed and turned, dragged this way and that in an odd parody of an embrace.

"It's not a puppy," someone outside Harry's field of vision grunted, a deeper voice this time, definitely a man's.

At once, the hands let go and Harry dropped onto the wooden floor under him. He coughed, hands rising to rub his bruised throat as he hacked loudly.

Two dainty-looking hands with black nails came into view, resting just a foot away. Harry could see them, his eyes hidden by his fringe of hair.

"Hello?" The woman's voice chirped. She dropped down, lowering until a manic woman's face swam into view, locking eyes with Harry's own eyes. "Hello!"

Harry scrambled back. The woman shifted into a kneel before him and cackled with laughter at his reaction. Her eyes alit at once with amusement at his instinctive fear.

She was tall and thin, with long, thick, and wild black hair, casting a strong contrast to her pale face. Her cheeks and jaw were sculpted with an almost aristocratic beauty Harry almost recognized. She had heavy-lidded dark eyes, giving Harry the impression that she was looking down on something. At the same time, those dark grey eyes glittered gleefully and Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what she found so funny.

"Who--" Harry croaked, his voice hoarse.

The woman's mouth pursed in concern and, with upsetting speed, she snatched up her wand from a hidden sheath and jabbed it in Harry's direction. "Episkey!"

It felt almost like his neck and throat was filled with cotton. Harry coughed, trying to dislodge the feeling of suffocating.

Then at once, it vanished.

"Better?" The woman cooed, fluttering her long eyelashes and sliding her wand back up her sleeve. She grinned, turning to look up at the two men who were standing by the door. Harry recognised them from the orphanage.

The one on the left, the shorter and thicker of the two, had long hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His face was square, set in a resting scowl as he watched Harry carefully. His eyes glittered maliciously and he gave Harry an uneasy feeling, even though he wasn't doing anything. He reached into his coat and very carefully pulled out a long, dark rope--

"Lutain!" Harry blurted, nearly lunging for the limp figure of his familiar and only hesitating when he saw the woman looking at him curiously.

"Is that the wittle snakey?" She asked the man in a childish voice, blinking and observing Lutain's glossy dark scales.

"Let him go," Harry said quietly, while carefully considering just how hard it would be to set the room around them ablaze.

"Careful," the man warned, setting the snake down on the floor. Lutain was terribly motionless and for a moment, Harry remembered the mother snake and what David had done to her.

"It's dangerous. Killed a boy almost faster than the Lord's," his partner added. He was the taller of the two and rail thin. There was an obvious family resemblance to his partner. They had the same dark eyes. He kept his hair shorter though and he was clean-shaven.

"Really?" The woman asked, a gleeful look in her eyes as she eyed the snake in a new light. She spun suddenly, grabbing Harry again and pulling him against her chest with crushing force. "Oh you are so much better than Cissy's brat!"

Harry swallowed. If Lutain had been awake, he would at least have some sort of leverage--

"Oh!" The woman gasped, leaning back and looking like she'd just realised something. There was an almost terrifying and giddy eagerness in her eyes. "I'm Bella! You're my new brat!"

" What ?" Harry hissed. Belatedly he realised he'd been speaking in Parseltongue. "Your new brat ?"

The woman, Bella, gave him an over exaggerated pout. "Well Cissy has one. Why can't I?"

Harry was stunned. Was she serious?

"The brat is for the Lord."

At once, Bella snatched Harry back and pulled him closer. "Well he's not here now," Bella whined. She grinned manically at Harry. "You want to stay here! We'll have fun!"

"I-I don't..." Harry started.

"I get to teach you all those fun things! I get to teach you spells and how to fight and--" She gasped, suddenly buzzing with excitement again. "And curses!"

Curses? He had to admit, he was very interested, but... There was something about this woman that set him off, something about the two men too. He tried to recall the names of the people his parents warned him about when he was a child. "What's your full name?"

"Bella! Bellatrix Lestrange!" She giggled, running one of her black-painted fingernails through Harry's messy hair. "Can I name you Septimus?"

"What--" Harry started, for a moment his thoughts distracted from trying to remember by Bella's question. "No! I have a name!"

"He's a Potter, the other twin," the thin man said. "The one his family--"

"They are not my family!" Harry snarled angrily, temporarily forgetting just how precarious his position was.

"You were in an orphanage! I adopted you! You're mine! Done!" Bellatrix said, her expression gleeful as she settled back on her heels under her long, poofy black dress. "You'll live here!"

Harry stopped as the full situation set in. Bellatrix Lestrange... Bellatrix Lestrange ... The name was so familiar. And then it hit him. She was related to Sirius, a cousin or something. He'd only ever spoken about her with disdain, never saying a good thing about the "deranged Lestrange."

But then... she was actually showing him a tremendous amount of affection and she actually wanted him…

That was new. Harry hadn't ever been wanted before.

"I'll keep you safe," she cooed, pressing his head against her chest where beneath the corset and frills, a loud rhythmic heartbeat thumped in time to the almost clawed hand stroking through his hair. "I'll give you all you want and I can teach you things and you will be so powerful !"

It actually sounded heartfelt to Harry, almost as if she really did want a child.

'No,' his mind whispered. 'She wants you.'

But Sirius had never had anything good to say about her! Harry was pretty sure that she was a Death Eater! There were so many reasons why he should do his level best just to get away from this manic madwoman, but those arguments were increasingly meaningless when measured against the fact that she actually wanted him.

“Stay with me,” she spoke, her voice enthralling Harry into a growing sense of contentment, “I’ll be what you never had.”

Harry liked the sound of that.

Harry was hurriedly escorted into another room by Rabastan, the taller of the two men from before, he was pushed relatively gently through the large doors before they closed softly behind him.

The room that Harry now found himself in was large and empty except the large fireplace and a short squat man in the corner who curled in on himself. The man had a face that reminded Harry of Piers.

There was a tall, high-backed chair in the middle of the room, facing a low green fireplace directly across the room.

Harry shifted his weight, incredibly uncomfortable without the muscular chill of Lutain under his clothing.

He felt something stir, something deep in the crevice of his mind which leant his body comfort. He relaxed, rather against his will as something clicked and felt so abnormally right about being in the room.

It scared him, as much as he loathed to admit it.

" I smell prey. " A distinctly feminine voice whispered, a low lilt similar to the python he'd released by accident lifetimes ago. There was a soft shuffling noise, the familiar sound of scales sliding over carpet, and from in front of the fireplace the largest snake Harry had ever seen peered around and looked at him with eyes that seemed to glow.

" A hatchling, large hatchling. " She huffed, looking put out at the realization, " Hard to eat. "

The man in the corner whimpered quietly, shifting and looking almost terrified.

"Why were you brought here?" The voice was raspy and somehow at the same time high-pitched. It sent a shiver of fear down Harry's spine. He swallowed and somehow, inexplicably, he knew.

This was Voldemort.

Harry didn't know what to do. He felt like he wanted to cry.

" Let me eat him, " the large snake hissed.

"Why," Voldemort- it had to be him- demanded again. "Why were you brought before me?"

Harry fidgeted under the unwavering stare of the huge snake, which watched his every move. Lutain's words came back to him once again. " Make yourself necessary. "

Harry straightened, taking a calming breath and forcing away his terror. He knew what to say.

" My name is Harry Potter and you have beautiful scales. " Harry knew Lutain was always pleased with compliments about his hunting prowess. " Your eyes must scare prey so well. "

The snake reared back so suddenly and unexpectedly, it almost looked like she was going to strike. She raised herself up, towering high, coming almost to Harry's shoulder. She tasted the air repeatedly, as though trying to decide what this new development meant.

"Harry Potter..." Voldemort drawled, drawing the words out. "And you speak Parseltongue. Fascinating."

" You are not prey, " the snake decided, lowering herself and sliding towards Harry. She tasted the air again curiously. " You speak. Do you know others that speak? "

" I have a close friend. His scales are dark and his strike is quick, " Harry offered, feeling more comfortable with every passing moment.

The snake seemed pleased and turned to slither back towards the fireplace, where it was warm.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed again. And now his voice held something different. It sounded almost like he was laughing. "The Boy-Who-Lived."

"N-no," Harry blurted out, this time in English. He took a few unconscious steps forward, his mind screaming at him the whole time to get away. "That's-- that's Skylar."

"Do you not think," Voldemort started, his voice cold and hateful, sending another shiver down Harry's spine. "That I know which child I struck?"

Harry felt a weight settle on his shoulders.

"Skylar is--"

"No," Voldemort laughed. Harry had no idea just what was so funny. "The old fool...he is wrong."

Dumbledore was wrong.

Skylar wasn't special. Skylar had never been special to begin with.

Harry never had to be- He couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept. Lily and James were wrong, everyone was wrong.

The man in the corner seemed to have found his backbone. He sneered and somehow found the situation amusing as well. He chortled out a series of nasally giggles that were more irritating than Harry would have ever expected.

Harry had been thrown away-- and he was the one that should've been protected!

Suddenly, Harry felt overcome by a wave of indescribable rage. Depression, anger, and potent self-loathing washed over him and, as the short, balding man continued his irritating laughter at Harry's misfortune, Harry wanted someone to hurt .

Harry watched, almost outside of his own body, as the balding man stopped laughing and gasped. His eyes bulged. He fell to the floor, his entire body twitching, wracked with spasms. He took great gasping breaths, but he couldn't scream, couldn't make a sound.

Dumbledore had been wrong, Harry’s life had been a lie.

The room filled with high-pitched laughter, breaking Harry's concentration. Harry blinked, the buzzing in his ears ended and the now whimpering man on the floor let out a relieved breath. Harry realised that he'd done that. He'd been angry and he wanted to hurt someone.

"So much potential," Voldemort mused. A small, skeletal hand tapped slowly on the armrest and Harry now wondered why Voldemort hadn't risen to face him. Something about that hand just looked wrong…

" Nagini, I-- " Voldemort stopped, suddenly. "Boy!"

Harry jolted, panic rising once again.

Then something exploded in his head and Harry dropped to the ground clutching his forehead with both hands. There was something moving through his mind, bringing searing pain before it shifted suddenly, becoming calming and relaxing, soothing like rain on scalding skin. Harry blinked dazed, feeling tears running down his face.

The large snake now identified as Nagini was very close to Harry's face, peering down at him intently.

" Nagini, fetch Bellatrix. She may show our new... guest around his new estate. "

Harry mused distantly, how the large snake was going to communicate with the witch.

" Den-mate! " Nagini hissed pleased, sliding over towards the door and pushing it with her blunt snout. “Hatchling! Teach to strike, teach to hunt!”

The balding man was still twitching on the floor, leaving Harry alone with the creature in the chair.

Somehow, the part of him that had felt relaxed suddenly made sense. Harry couldn’t explain it, but there was a part of Voldemort that felt so soothing and it whispered sweet nothings that it was right to be here.

His mind was stagnant with turmoil. Skylar was destined to be the Chosen Boy. Skylar was the one prophesized.

It had never been Harry. It had never been Harry.

The epiphany finally sunk into the recesses of Harry’s mind- the full ramifications of the information striking him in a single clear moment.

He made the rat faced man beg for mercy.

Chapter Text

Adrian Selwyn woke up to soft light drifting through his window over his sheets and his face, as well as the sound of something outside exploding.

The boy rolled his eyes, groaning against the light although he rose. The sheets were pushed back and he slid out of the bed with little resistance. The aged floorboards creaked slightly under his feet.

“Not morning. Still rest,” Lutain argued quietly, still coiled on his magically heated stone near the wardrobe.

“For you. I’m not that lucky,” Adrian corrected, yawning while opening the large wardrobe to select the outfit for the day.

Adrian Lestrange, his name practically a nickname to the actual legal name registered with the ministry : Hadrianus Selwyn, a name that evidently had some sort of latin prefix and suffix root word meaning he wasn't aware of. He didn’t care. The name was similar enough to Harry that it wouldn’t be questioned if any mistakes happened.

There was a sense of... relief, that accompanied his name changing legally and secretly in the ministry of magic archive. He was… he wasn’t part of the Potters anymore ; he was completely separated.

And then Bella dragged him out of bed months ago in the middle of the night, nearly having Lutain bite her if not for Nagini arriving and hissing something to the small lethal serpent.

Adrian, still practically asleep, hadn’t understood what was going on. He flailed, shouted, and set fire to a few things (which Bella found absolutely adorable, the sadist she was).

When he came to after being stunned, he was given a potion and a ritual knife he was apparently supposed to drag across his palm.

Adrian hadn’t quite understood but, somehow through the loud rambles and Bella’s excited squeals, he had managed to grasp the basics that it was some sort of blood adoption-- something to physically alter his features. Adrian was aware he looked identical to his renowned father. It was inconvenient. The blood adoption was supposed to change that.

Adrian knew that he was useful ; they wouldn’t outright kill him. He was important, or necessary for plans he hadn’t quite understood yet. So he did what was expected, and drank whatever concoction Bella had given him.

It was certainly strange, Adrian thought later, that he possessed absolutely no physical features of either of the Lestranges after the ritual was over. His features were delicate. He had high, aristocratic cheekbones. His eyes were large and framed with dark, medium lashes, and he had a thin nose and sharp jaw. His hair was straight with an almost blueish hue in bright lighting.

Bellatrix had apparently been stunned and nearly obsessive when Adrian had returned from the blood adoption ritual. It wasn’t until Nagini had commented on his hair that it clicked just who had adopted him.

Adrian wretched himself sick.

That was the night when Harry James Potter became Hadrianus “Adrian” Selwyn.

“Can I have a mouse?” Lutain yawned, jarring Adrian’s attention back to the here and now. The little snake unhinged his jaw with a snap of cartilage.

“Maybe,” Harry mused, watching as Lutain’s tongue flickered in understanding. He had been working on teaching Lutain English, it was useful for spying on others.

Harry grabbed a change of clothing, sliding into the shirt and trousers.

He heard another crash from outside, causing him to peer out grudgingly.

Well, nothing was broken, or on fire.

“Master, time to go?” Lutain asked, rising and wavering in the air. Adrian turned, reaching down with his left arm where Lutain coiled loosely around the wrist and pulled himself up his arm up towards Adrian’s shoulders.

The two descended the large although poorly maintained stairs, sliding around the loose railing to pad towards the kitchen where platters of food had already been prepared, courtesy of the house elf.

Rodolphus, seated at the nearby table, didn’t bother to look up when Adrian kicked out a nearby chair and dropped into it.

“We have business.” Rodolphus muttered, not looking up from his paper. Instead he flipped through it, reading intently a section Adrian had not the patience or interest to care about.

“Don’t you always?” Adrian muttered under his breath, glancing under his darkened straight bangs, noticing the slight quirk of the elder man’s mouth.

“That we do,” He agreed without showing actual interest. “Bella’s out with someone from the ministry.”

“Torturing?” Adrian guessed dryly, poking at the now mangled contents of his breakfast. Rodolphus neither confirmed nor denied it. It was a rhetorical question anyway.

With his eleventh birthday only a few weeks away, Adrian Selwyn was getting used to the new dynamic of his house. Although archaic and ghastly with few, if any, morals, it was immeasurably better than the tainted memories of the orphanage or the Dursleys.

At first it had horrified him and made him sick to his stomach, made him lock himself away from the rest of the people who lived here. No amount of coaxing or cooing from Bellatrix could convince him to open the enchanted door.

It had taken a week and the only reason he left was the house elf’s inability to bring a mouse alongside his meals. Lutain was ravenous . Bellatrix had made a peace offering of a living chipmunk.

Bellatrix was eccentric and sickeningly cruel, but sometimes, randomly, she could be so affectionate and agreeable that it was... comforting . In her own way, she was endearing and each compliment she managed to casually give made Adrian warm up to her just a little bit more.

‘ Your eyes are like the killing curse. They’re amazing. ’

Minor things continuously managed to leave Adrian unsure, wavering and internally conflicted on how he should feel. After a year, he stopped caring. After a year, he started liking it.

Bellatrix was probably insane, she was a terrible mother (heaven forbid Adrian ever think of her as his actual mother), but she was so much better . “Hello!” Bellatrix exclaimed, throwing the door open hard enough to crack into the plaster on the opposite side of the hinges. Adrian didn’t look up, the sound was quite common.

Bellatrix moved over to the food platters, giggling to herself as she mangled pancakes between her fingers.

“You have a mission?” Adrian asked, not bothering to look behind him. She drifted over to the table. She was wearing an outfit that at one point must have been fairly expensive. Now though it was stained with blood and torn in places, exposing the pale skin in some places.

“Yes!” She hissed out with delight, her eyes lighting up with manic glee that he had come to associate with her. Adrian barely blinked at it. “ He has a task for us!”

Which honestly wasn’t unexpected at this point.

“Anything new?” Adrian asked quietly, spearing a bit of fruit a lot more forcefully than necessary using his fork.  

Adrian had learned of his own task. Bubbling through his blood and seared into his mind with the branding imprint of scales and rhythmic pulsating of ‘Dumbledore... Dumbledore... Dumbledore...’ His mission was quite obvious and easy to interpret: he was to spy on Dumbledore and not get caught.

Easier said than done, Adrian thought.

“I have this new curse,” Bellatrix gushed, flopping into a nearby chair and twisting her features into an unhinged grin.

Adrian grimaced and absentmindedly rubbed his upper left arm, where a thin white scar had been ingrained in his skin. Bellatrix noticed the movement and pouted as only she could, crossing her arms disappointed. “That was an accident! ”

“It was fully intentional and you know that,” Adrian snapped back. Bellatrix wavered before grudgingly agreeing.

Rodolphus rolled his eyes, well-used to the almost psychotic interactions of his unstable ‘family.’

“Why don’t you take the boy to get a new book of curses,” Rodolphus sighed, finally glancing up with disguised amusement. “Merlin knows he’ll learn more than whatever you teach him.”

Bellatrix continued to pout, plucked a toast soldier from Adrian’s plate and ate it obnoxiously.

It was true, Adrian did enjoy books. It hadn’t also taken long for Rodolphus and Bellatrix to realize just how fascinated he was with magical creatures. Rabastan came to visit with a runespoor one day. It made terrible conversation -- its multiple heads kept arguing with each other -- but it also kept Adrian’s attention.

“ New book?” Lutain hissed interestedly, peering out from under Adrian’s clothing to slither lazily across the table. “ More rats? ”

“Is there a store for rats?” Adrian sighed, stroking one finger down Lutain’s dark back.

“Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley,” Rodolphus drawled, “Varmint and Underden in Knockturn.”

Adrian gave a short nod, looking at Bellatrix who hummed and tapped her chin dramatically with one black tipped manicured nail. “Ooh, I could go to Knockturn.”

“Good, then we’re going,” Adrian announced, standing upright and holding one arm out. “Lutain?”

Bellatrix’s face split with an infectious smile as it always did when he spoke Parseltongue. Lutain obliged, sliding upwards and around his forearm under his shirt sleeve.

“Set up an account with Underden, they’ll send you things on schedule to Hogwarts,” Rodolphus grunted, looking like he may say more before falling silent and saying nothing else.

Adrian didn’t mind, he could figure it out on his own.

Diagon Alley was crowded with students already shopping for goods before the list for Hogwarts was even sent out. Children, only slightly older or younger than himself, bustled about with their wizarding parents, urging at them to get a wand before the muggleborn rush. Adrian had already gotten his months before, holly and phoenix feather.

He had also invested in a bird for messages, something faster and stronger than the everyday owl. A gyrfalcon, a beautiful white bird with markings like a snowy owl. Her eyes were golden and intelligent. Adrian named her Hedwig.

Hedwig had already proven her worth ; she had claimed the highest nest of the Lestrange owelry. She ate mice and sometimes hunted extra for Lutain.

“Alright, Adrian, I’ll be in Knockturn. You know what to do,” Bellatrix spoke under her breath with a hushed voice. Bellatrix gave him a manic grin, her eyes lighting up, as she passed along a bulging coin purse. Although not pinned down by the ministry, it was common knowledge that she was a strong follower of the Dark. Along with her husband and brother-in-law, Bellatrix tended to avoid places like Diagon Alley and the ministry regulations that came with them.

“Follow the smoke,” Adrian said dryly, arching one eyebrow as Bellatrix giggled. She pulled her hood down lower and slunk off in the direction of the poorly-lit Knockturn Alley.

Adrian could get most of his Hogwarts shopping done now. He turned sharply, eying most of the stores along the strip and only sidestepping when a bustling family tried to force their way past. He was fairly certain that he already owned the necessary books for first year, although possibly not, given the fact the Defense Against the Dark Art’s position was ‘cursed.’

(Bellatrix had laughed openly while telling him the story.)

Although, Adrian could use another trunk, the one he had owned was, according to his understanding, buried under ash and remnants of a collapsed building.

“Mice!” Lutain hissed, writhing excitedly towards the depths of Knockturn alley, undoubtedly ravenous for anything he could get.

Adrian sighed, glancing once more down the busy streets of Diagon before smoothly turning and walking into the much darker alleyways of Knockturn.

Lutain slithered out, finding his place of comfort around Adrian’s neck. His presence proved intimidating and almost immediately several old hags with greedy looks backed away frightened. Lutain’s sharp fangs and loud hiss deterred most creatures.

Adrian absentmindedly ducked under one side stall advertising loudly about what looked like engraved skulls-- a few even looked human.

“I want to check the bookstore,” Adrian hissed lowly, the action didn't seem that strange with the collection of vampires in the area. “Would you like to get the mice first?”

“After,” Lutain decided, flicking his tongue curiously. “Mice make me slow.”

It was true, Lutain tended to lapse into a near comatose though happy state of mind after a large meal.

Adrian turned the corner, walking past a loud pub called the White Wyvern and then past an archaic barber shop. A tall imposing store with cobweb-filled windows rested on the corner, large enough to stand out in the tightly packed Alley.

Cobb and Webb’s was a large ambiguous store, selling books as well as other fascinating objects. Its book selection was vast and impressive, drawing Adrian’s attention as it had on his first introduction to Knockturn Alley and multiple times after.

The storekeeper was an old man with pupiless white eyes, though that didn’t inhibit his ability to see. He had a large smile, mouth extending a centimeter past the limits of a normal grin. Adrian did not know what sort of creature he was, nor did he particularly care.

Adrian was not alone in the store. He walked straight towards the bookshelves and past an uncomfortable older boy a few years Adrian’s senior. The boy jumped, looking around paranoid before quickly returning to the book he had plucked from the shelf. Adrian could only assume that it was something most others would call illegal.

Adrian walked past, his shoes still gave the small clicking noise despite having been bought several years past. The sound was loud and quickly drew the older boy’s paranoid eyes once again.

The bookshelf Adrian had visited before left him with a thick tome, a list of various spells although all were fairly neutral and unspecialized. Bellatrix had gotten him more books since then, casually filled with darker hexes and curses then anything Adrian would buy on his own.

He smiled at the shelf, recognizing the small cracks in the wood and the distinct prock marks he remembered. The shelf wasn't restocked, most of the books weren't purchased from a publisher to begin with. Most likely they were donated or sold from pure blood families, Adrian suspected there wasn't a single duplicate in the store.

“Master!” Lutain suddenly urged, poking up and out of his sleeve. His tongue flickered wildly, tasting the air hungrily. “I smell a rat.”

Without any further cue Adrian lowered his arm and enabled Lutain to drop freely to the ground in pursuit of the vermin.

Adrian had been flipping through the pages of an interesting book on mind magics, when he heard a loud shout. Undoubtedly Lutain had scared the teenager who had been browsing a few rows over.

Adrian sighed, snapping his book shut in annoyance while he stomped towards the ruckus. Lutain was indeed scaring the teenager from earlier, putting on a dramatic show of hisses and tight coils.

The sadist was even laughing at how terrified the boy was, though only Adrian could understand it.

“Lutain,” Adrian bit out, looking thoroughly frustrated as the teenager’s head snapped in his direction. “Stop it. Find the rat or come here.”

Lutain understood the gist of it, thankfully due to Adrian’s tedious English lessons. Lutain returned to a low coil before he slithered out of sight. The teenager glared pointedly at Adrian, assuming that it was his fault the entire encounter happened.

“Lutain does what he wants,” Adrian explained bluntly, the older boy sniffing annoyed.

“Well bloody banish the thing,” he grumbled, trying to retain his composure, “Merlin knows how you conjured that with the trace-- what are you, twelve?”

“Lutain is my familiar.” Adrian’s expression became slightly more standoffish. He didn't see a reason to correct this boy on his age.

“Oh? A familiar, eh?” The teenager said, perking up. He looked considering, before giving a rather wolfish grin. “You smuggle that into Hogwarts then?”

Adrian only blinked slowly.

“Tell you what,” the teenager lowered to the floor, suddenly looking much more casual and comfortable given the situation. “That snake of yours could be useful. You too if you're venturing around here, given how young you are.”

“It’s not dangerous if you know what to do,” Adrian cautioned, causing the boy to chuckle.

“True, the names Calum MacTuer. It could be useful to have someone helping with the goods, a uh, an incentive ,” said the teenager. The boy winked conspiratorially.

“You sell things at Hogwarts?” Adrian guessed. He was interested.

“Got it in one, mate, although some buyers don't want to cough up the coin.”

“You want Lutain to make sure they pay,” Adrian mused, his mind starting to understand the situation he was in. The fence of Hogwarts? It was terribly convenient to have contacts for stolen objects or potion ingredients.

“Hadrianus Selwyn,” Adrian introduced. “Incoming first year.”

“ First year? Merlin that works out great,” Calum’s eyes were practically glowing with enthusiasm, though he was uncertain about something. “Hey, you related to those eh, that Selwyn family?”

“No,” Adrian said simply. “It's a common surname.”

Calum relaxed instantly, “good to know. Information is worth coin and coin makes you useful if you spend it right.”

‘You're rather dull, aren't you?’ Adrian thought to himself, he’d give this Calum a few years after graduating before being arrested by the Aurors.

“Here.” Calum struggled with his bag, Adrian was suddenly suspicious he was planning on stealing all the books anyways, and passed over a decently slim book. “That’s all spells for business and trades. Good stuff there, mate.”

Calum winked again. Did the teenager genuinely believe he ran some sort of...Hogwarts black market ?

“I’ll be in touch,” Calum gave an intrusive pat on Adrian’s shoulder, before rising and waltzing out of the library section, suddenly much more paranoid while walking towards the front of the store.

“The rat was the human,” Lutain hissed, peering out from under the shelf.

“Calum was the rat?” Adrian blinked, glancing at his friend surprised. “Like Pettigrew?”

Lutain gave a low hiss of agreement, sliding under the shelves stealthily.

Calum was an Animagus. Wasn't that interesting…? Adrian doubted anyone knew that about the boy, given his profession. Being an Animagus did seem to be a useful ability...

“Lutain,” Adrian hissed under his breath. “Come on.”

Adrian turned and quickly walked around the around the rows of shelves, glancing down the aisles to try and find the tomes on wandless magic. He found them mixed with books on toxicology and natural poisons. Say what you would about Flourish and Blotts, they knew how to organise; while the selection in here was fantastic for the more… esoteric subjects, the organisation left a lot to be desired.

There were three books on the Animagus transformation. Adrian knew he didn't have enough gold on him at the time to actually purchase all of them, as well as what he’d come for and the book Calum gave him. He pulled out the cheapest of the three, before returning to the section he’d come from. He pulled a single, slim volume from the shelf.  The name of which had been ingrained into his mind with airy high pitch sounds which left him shaking.

Occlumency.

“Let’s get started.”

Chapter Text

The streets of Knockturn Alley were indeed something startling. Humanoid creatures waked past with long lumbering steps, pausing only to hiss loudly in his direction. One humanoid creature made a chuffing noise, before reaching into its mouth and pulling out a living blackbird. Another woman grinned in his direction, her eyes rolling around in her head before falling out of the sockets dramatically.

Adrain was almost certain that the occupants were trying to scare him. When one vampire slid against him- its stone cold skin touching his own, it inhaled deeply and made a sort of feline purring noise deep in his throat.

Adrian was ever so thankful for having Lutain so close to him.

When Lutain pulled, jerking away from Adrian’s skin towards a series of steps leading down another path, Adrian couldn’t resist. Lutain was his security; if his friend wanted to go a specific way or venture off the trail he wouldn’t argue.

Lutain wavered, wriggling in the air in a lethargic daze. His eyes had clouded and his tongue limply hung from his jaws like a dog.

“Lutain?” Adrian hushed, alarmed by the state of his friend. “ Lutain? ”

He heard it then: a melodic trilling noise. It was foreign and captivating, every instinct in his blood was pulsing and screaming ‘ wrong wrong wrong! ’

Adrian stepped further into the open against his better judgement.

The sound abruptly ended, ringing hollowly and emptily in the silence. Lutain reeled back, gaining composure whilst a creature in an archaic fountain recoiled in surprise.

She (If Adrain could trust the body shape and long hair) was young but still years older than Adrian, closer to Calum in age, but just foreign enough that Adrian wasn’t quite sure. Her skin was pale and she had dark hair, separated into long wet strands either from the fountain or biological oil. She blinked rapidly with bulbous, round eyes. She had a speckling of what looked like a sort of disease around her exposed collarbone, shimmering like scales (Adrian felt uncomfortable when he realized they most likely were scales).

“The sound,” Lutain hissed, tail thrashing in annoyance. “You stopped.”

The creature blinked, pulling back and slinking below the fountain rim hesitantly, “I regret, Sharptail.”

Adrian blinked, and took a half step backwards. The rusting iron of the fountain, alongside the dripping water looked suspiciously like blood over the edge of the rim.

“You understood him?” Adrian asked cautiously. The creature tilted her head, her ears were humanoid.

Adrian’s mind bubbled in fascination at such a magical creature.

“You do,” She pointed out, voice lilting and somehow chirping like a bird, although still guttural and awkward. “You reek dark.”

Adrian swallowed, taking a step forward once he spotted what looked like a green fin just below the surface.

“What creature?” Lutain hissed, peering up and scenting the air, “You scent of strange.”

“ You smell sour,” The woman (was it a woman) retorted, scowling at Adran. “You smell foul. Torn, ripped and shoved into something which you are not.”

Adrian frowned, his hand started to slide towards his wand.

The creature pulled one smooth arm over the edge of the fountain, dirtying the pale skin with rust. Its nails shimmered and reflected like opals, webbing between the digits at the base.

“You speak venom!” Lutain hissed, infuriated by the apparent insult. “How dare!”

“Not dare. Not insult. How peculiar,” the creature warbled. It tilted its beautiful yet unsettling head. “How peculiar. You smell of human child, you are but you are more.”

“You’re obviously not human. Not a Grindylow, or a Siren. Or a Banshee half-blood,” Adrian noted, trying to work out what she was by eliminating what she wasn’t from a list of things he knew about, information he had long thought useless. He was at a loss, Adrian admitted to himself after a long moment.

“I am Carpatha,” the woman trilled, voice somehow resembling a lark’s teeter. Was that her name or her species, Adrian wondered. She grinned at him, teeth perhaps just a bit more pointed. “I am a Merrow. My kin are far, in warmer waters. I like these waters. I don’t often get visitors.”

“You’re in a bowl,” Lutain noted, seeming fascinated with the Merrow. “How do you flee?”

Carpatha blinked, perhaps surprised by Lutain’s question. “I walk.”

Adrian couldn’t help but glance back at what he’d thought was a fin before. “You walk?”

The Merrow grinned at him and seemed fascinated. She blinked slowly and for a moment looked far too intelligent for Adrian’s comfort. “I can walk. I speak to everything. Everything speaks to me .”

“Merrow are rare. Why hasn’t anyone killed you yet?” Adrian felt his fingers close around his wand, a comforting weight in his hand. “I hear your tails are very, very rare.”

She laughed, a soothing noise that relaxed Adrian against his will. Then she barked, a strange warbling noise that somehow compelled a nearby crow to swoop and hop onto the fountain near her back.

“Cra!” she cooed, pointing a finger at the crow. “Cra is my eyes, he is my bite. ”

She hissed, a thin spine rising from where it had been lying flat on her back. He suddenly felt very very wary for Lutain.

“We’ll see you again,” Adrian said nodding, turning and starting to walk away.

“You reek!” She called after him. Adrian heard a wet sloshing noise, but he didn’t turn to see what the Merrow was doing. “You carry something festering!”

She laughed, Adrian wished he could find it in him to think the sound was ugly.

Bellatrix tossed a small coin purse of galleons at Adrian the moment a tawny brown owl fluttered into the estate with a sealed envelope addressed to Mr. Hadrianus Selwyn-Riddle.

Adrian froze in horror at the name. Bella only huffed, and with one spell and her wand she crossed out the last portion of his surname. Accordingly, she assured it would be removed from the rolls at Hogwarts.

Adrian was relieved, a part of him was almost ecstatic that the adoption had happened. The name was proof enough.

He used the floo to go to Diagon Alley in a black cloak and dark green robes. Lutain was curled around his throat, lazily sprawled without actually showing any signs of threat.

The streets were absolutely filled.

Adrian grimaced. Families bustled about, frustrated parents trying to get everything on their children’s school lists, while their children ran too and fro, shouting loudly about the latest broomsticks or smart-eyed owls or one of any number of other things.

Flourish and Blotts was raking in the gold, having a monopoly on the necessary supplies, and they knew it. Adrian double-checked his list of books and groaned slightly. He’d already read books with similar difficulty levels ages ago.

Frowning, Adrian picked up his books, joining a long queue of parents waiting to pay. When he was (finally) done, he moved to a shop that specialized in trunks, just off the center path of Diagon alley. Despite owning a decent amount of possessions, Adrian didn't actually have a good trunk.

The shop was suffering from a sale, though it seemed most new wizards didn't venture away from the main strip. The shopkeeper was eager to meet Adrian, not blinking or commenting on Lutain.

Adrian settled on a trunk that was entirely black though otherwise unremarkable, which still managed to be attention-grabbing in its own way. The trunk had multiple interchangeable compartments, built in wards to protect from fires or thieves and it was password protected to open a smaller, private compartment. It was purchased for a moderate sum.

Adrian felt that parsletongue (which was a nearly extinct ability) was the safest password he knew.

The shopkeeper directed Adrian to another shop, a workshop run by one of the man’s relatives which specialised in other containers or miscellaneous objects with other enchantments and charms. Lutain was thrilled at the small engraved crate which opened to a larger heated area for basking and sleeping.

Lutain was in a positively thrilled mood and Adrian was feeling light hearted, weaving through the crowd while his friend rambled on about his favorite conversations with Nagini. Adrian managed to wriggle through a group of excited children (his classmates, he realized with a sigh) into Magical Menagerie.

He could see cages filled with cats and kneezles, hounds and designer dogs. Bright parrots flew overhead to roost on ledges and stands. Falcons and eagles sat on decorative branches while giant spiders skittered about in wood shavings.

Lutain instantly perked up and glanced around the store, eyes moving to spot the dozing mice and rats behind glass cages.

Adrian flinched when he saw an absolutely miserable snake curl in on itself tightly in one overly humid enclosure.

He walked over to it, touching the glass with resentment. The snake-- a thick mass of muscle with an almost adorable sudden short tail, looked at him, its every movement screaming exhaustion.

“What ails you, bright-eyes?” Lutain hissed, peering through the glass.

The snake on the other side began to unravel, tilting its head confused at its new conversation.

“I am of sand, not wet and cold,” it grunted, voice somehow feminine although layered with something muffled and sick.

“Ah! Interested in our new python!” An employee made his way over towards Adrian, looking slightly harried by the sheer volume of shoppers but still trying to present that cheerful, helpful look of underpaid employees everywhere.

“It’s a viper,” Adrian said bluntly. He scowled. “Not a python.”

The attendant blinked in surprise.

“You should probably move her. She’ll get sick in humidity,” Adrian noted, frowning at the full body tremor down its scales.

“Look I- I’m sorry, lad,” the man apologized, “But our shop policy says we can’t take out any dangerous animal during open hours. Besides, I doubt you actually know what kind of snake that is--”

Lutain chose that moment to hiss loudly and stare directly at the man in the eye.

Adrian forced a fairly pleasant expression, ignoring the man’s sudden pallor, the nervous widening of his eyes. “ Fine . Of course, how would someone like myself ever know anything about snakes? My apologies. Incidentally, I do need a few mice. Maybe a regular schedule for shipping if your shop is setup for such a thing.” Adrian paused, feigned being lost in thought. “given that it is distinctly a snake thing, I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t.”

Adrian should not have been as satisfied as he was with purchasing two white mice.

He nearly laughed when Lutain managed to scarf one down on the checkout counter in front of the already nervous cashier.

The bright flash of blond hair had Adrian moving before he could think. Lutain was confused, he tightened his hold as best he could as Adrian moved quickly.

“ Master, what-- ”

“ Hush Lutain. ”

Adrian pulled out from the crowd the moment he saw the elder man walk away into the goblin bank. The man’s wife separated exchanging terse words, before leaving their son outside the steps looked thoroughly miffed although still proud.

Adrian smiled, then stepped out directly in front of the boy.

Instantly Draco Malfoy’s eyes snapped to his.

“Draco Malfoy,” Adrian addressed, giving a slight bow while his eyes appraised the boy across from him, “a pleasure to meet you in the flesh.”

Draco’s nose lifted and he sniffed in disdain.

“Of course, I’ll be seeing you much more,” Adrian calmly assured. “In Slytherin preferably.”

“So you agree Slytherin is the best house.” Draco’s eyes gleamed, curious and flinty at the same time. His voice didn't leave room to actually answer the rhetorical question. “I don't think I am aware of your house. Perhaps your head of house works alongside my father?”

Adrian had expected the question and had prepared accordingly.

“My name is Hadrianus Selwyn, Adrian for short.” He clarified at Draco’s interested glance, “I am not related to the pureblood house Selwyn of native Britain. I come from an alternate pureblood house. Instead of offering information regarding my house, I instead offer my services.”

Draco blinked.

“There are multiple actions a pureblood heir may not be able to participate in while under heavy scrutiny.” Adrian lowered his voice and leant forward politely, “especially within the walls of Hogwarts with such a noble name as your own.”

Draco looked stunned and rather at a loss for what to say. In the pause where Draco quickly composed a response, a loud angry shout echoed over the bustle of Diagon Alley.

The two jerked around and spotted a fuming boy storming out from Ollivanders. Draco instantly began laughing. Adrian looked further-- the boy had dark brown hair, almost reddish in the afternoon light. He was taller than Adrian, broader with the slight pudge of baby fat still clinging around his jaw.

Adrian noticed his eyes and felt like he had been hit with one of Bella’s curses.

“Wonder what got Potter in a riot,” Draco sneered, almost forgetting Adrian was nearby. The latter stared, dazed, and made a low keening noise as someone with red hair hurried to catch up to the boy.

Skylar Potter. And their-- Skylar’s mother.

“Maybe they didn’t have the wand he wanted.” Adrian’s voice sounded hollow and breathless to his own ears. Draco said something in return, but Adrian didn’t hear. The alley was suddenly so loud, yet he wasn’t able to actually decipher a single word in the chaos.

He saw Lily manage to meet up with Skylar. Her brow was furrowed in the way it only ever did when she was saying something to comfort hi-- Skylar.

Lily leant down and pulled Skylar into a hug.

Adrian twitched and blinked slowly at the hand which had rather forcefully jabbed into his side.

“Oh, so you’re back now?” Draco sneered, looking frustrated and annoyed with Adrian.

Lutain chose that moment to appear, poking his head out from Adrian’s collar and tasting the air with the slowness only his digestion ever really inspired.

Adrian gave an almost arrogant nod and stalked off. If everything worked out as he anticipated it, Adrian would have his name spread relatively quickly. Once he was known, he could remove Calum and secure his necessity in Hogwarts. Then, Adrian could move up through Hogwarts, surpass him in every way, and demand respect. Everything would work.

This time, he would be the victor.

(History was always written by the victors.)

Chapter Text

The Hogwarts Express was simultaneously exciting and disappointment.

Some part of Adrian wished for something... more . He didn’t know what he had expected in retrospect. It was a large train, ample room for movement and more compartments on the inside than it should’ve had. He’d managed to claim a large empty compartment for himself. The train was magical in how quickly it flew across the countryside; the view outside the windows was just a blur of greys and greens and browns. Adrain was almost positive the amount of rail didn’t actually exist in the eyes of muggles.

Still, something about it just felt... lacking though.

Twenty minutes into the long trip, his compartment door slid open and he was met with the familiar face of Calum.

“Harry!” The older boy cheered, causing Adrian to freeze entirely.

How did this--

“You don’t mind if I call you Harry, do ya?” The boy grinned larger. “Much easier to remember than that Hadrianian mouthful.”

“Adrian,” he corrected with forced laziness, eying the boy critically. “Did you learn those curses you were looking at?”

Calum’s cheerful expression fell very quickly into something serious. He casually pulled out his wand -- a light brown wood -- and set it on the table between them. “Don’t mess with me, Adrian.”

Adrian in turn pulled out his own wand, concealed in an arm holster like Calum’s own. The other boy’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the holster, but seemed to take the sight of both wands on the table as a peace offering.

“Nice wand you got there,” Calum noted, eyes filled with what Adrian now suspected was kleptomania.  The older boy’s fingers were twitching noticeably. “Birch? No wait-- Hemlock?”

Calum guessed correctly.

Adrian had long since purchased an additional wand to his phoenix and holly. Apparently, his preferred wand was something of a ‘sister core’ and would one day be wanted by Dumbledore. Because of that, he’d been forced to get another wand: hemlock and dragon heartstring. It wasn’t his first choice, but it would work well enough.

“Interesting thing, hemlock. I didn’t think they sold that in Ollivanders.” Calum grinned, obviously thinking he had somehow pinned down Adrian with his knowledge.

“They don’t,” Adrian openly admitted. “You also can’t buy the majority of the books that you own in Diagon Alley.”

Calum swallowed.

“You’re in Ravenclaw,” Adrian confirmed, leaning forward and linking his fingers together. How convenient it was to have sources able to look into the Ministry Archives for him. Adrian’s smile grew. “You are rather studious. I assume you know plenty of things. Actually, I think you know things that are rather... secretive. ”

“If you’re talking about the books--” Calum started.

Adrian interrupted him with a raised hand, tilting his head as if he had heard something. He hummed, looking thoughtful. Adrien pointedly met Calum’s eyes and smiled a knowing smile. “I’m sorry, I thought I’d heard a rat. ”

Calum paled.

The compartment door slid open suddenly, showing two young children around his age. One had ridiculously bushy hair and her front teeth were slightly more prominent than normal. The other was pudgy and seemed overall nervous with the situation.

“Oh, sorry ,” the girl said, though she didn’t seem all that apologetic for having barged in. “Have you seen a toad? Neville’s lost his.”

The pudgy boy looked down, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Adrian’s eyes widened as he looked at the uncomfortable pudgy boy. He did faintly remember him. He had a horrid grandmother.

“No toad in here!” Calum exclaimed, snatching up his wand from the table. “ But I’ll help look. I’ll get the Prefects to help out too. They owe me a few favours.”

The bushy-haired girl seemed surprised but blushed slightly at the overwhelming assistance. “Thank you! I’m Hermione Granger--”

“Hadrianus Selwyn,” Adrian interrupted, rising with a pleasant smile, sliding his wand back into its hidden holster. “What kind of toad are we looking for? I know quite a few magical creatures.”

Neville pushed his way past and wrung his hands anxiously.

“He-- Trevor's about this big,” Neville stumbled to explain, holding his hands apart a decent distance.

Adrian fought to keep the look on his face pleasant. He hadn’t known the Longbottom heir would be so… useless .

“I’ll go search!” Calum said, slipping out into the open hallway of the train. He obviously didn’t want to be confronted on certain… issues.

Hermione frowned, looking at Adrian curiously. “I’ve heard the name Hadrianus before. Wasn’t he a greek ruler?”

“Unfortunately yes. You can’t choose the names your family gives you.” He shrugged helplessly. “Call me Adrian. I insist.”

Hermione offered a small, timid smile and nodded.

“I’ll see you around?” She offered, seeming thrilled by the pleasant interaction.

Adrian nodded. Hermione and Neville left, once more leaving Adrian in silence. Briefly extracting his wand again, he wordlessly locked the compartment door, closing his eyes and leaning back against his seat.

Of course, the one time he could use Lutain and his uncanny ability to find every animal in question, the snake was sound asleep alongside the rest of the Hogwarts pets.

Adrian must’ve dozed off himself. When he woke up, it was dark outside and the train was slowing down. They’d arrived at Hogsmeade, it seemed. The station was barely more than an overhang on the side of the a hill. Between them and the large beautiful castle rising from the Scottish moore, a huge black glittering lake reflected the constellations above.

Adrian was loathe to admit it, but he found the sight exquisit.

“Firs’ Years! This way!”

Adrian glanced over at the call where the smallest children were gathering near a man of truly towering proportions: the half-breed. Adrian had been warned about him repeatedly, by almost everyone. This was Hagrid, the groundskeeper for the castle and the nearby forests.

Adrian was shepherded along with other gaping, wide-eyed children to the lake, where a small fleet of wooden boats waited for them. Adrian’s boat rocked precariously as he clambered in, threatening to tip him and the other three First Years into the inky black water. Probably they all did. Once the fleet of small boats were filled with every First Year, they were guided by invisible ropes, gliding smoothly and rhythmically over the surface towards the far side of the lake and Hogwarts.

Each boat had a glowing lantern, a single flame giving off enough light for Adrian to see a frightened brown-haired girl and a boy with false bravado in the boat with him. Off to the left, Adrian was fairly sure he had spotted the youngest Malfoy’s white hair reflecting in the flickering lantern light.

Adrian’s first proper look at Hogwarts left him speechless. The castle towered over the black lake, dozens of towers and ramparts giving him the impression of an impenetrable fortress, a fantastic closed-off world that he was now entering. Warm torchlight spilled from every window and doorway, reflecting off weathered stone and covered bridges, and made the school seem welcoming.

They piled out, forming a large mob as they were herded (very much like sheep) up along moving staircases and past moving paintings.

The half-giant handed them off to a stern-looking Professor who told them to prepare for the Sorting, then disappeared beyond enormous doors. Then they were left alone in what looked like an entry hall.

Low mumbled conversations started to spread through the group, rumors  and speculation for how the Sorting would proceed. Was Adrian the only one who knew that the Sorting was done by an ancient, floppy hat?

“I heard we have to battle a troll!” One boy bemoaned, looking nearly ready to faint.

‘For Merlin’s sake...’ Adrian thought to himself, shifting restlessly as the crowd around him became ever more anxious. If Adrian was expected to be clueless, Bella had certainly raised him wrong.

When the door opened, the First Years echoed with gasps and sounds of astonishment as they looked around with wide-eyed glances. The ceiling of the Great Hall had been enchanted to resemble the night sky. It was brighter, deeper than anything Adrian had seen before and there wasn’t even a hint of light pollution or muggle contraptions.

All of the long tables cheered wildly at the sight of each of the First Years stumbling into the light. The chaos really began once the hat was brought out and that same strict-looking professor began to call out names.

“Abbot, Hannah!”

A blonde haired girl in pigtails ran forward, sitting down on the wobbly-looking stool. She looked absolutely terrified as the hat was lowered onto her head.

After a moment of quiet deliberation, the hat shouted, “Hufflepuff!”

“Bones, Susan!” went to Hufflepuff too. “Brown, Lavender!” went to Gryffindor. The names continued, eventually reaching the fabled name, “Potter, Skylar!”

At once the entire room was filled with a great hush, as if everyone had suddenly taken a deep breath and was now holding it until the boy in question was sorted. Skylar separated from the other First Years. He swaggered forward, confident and proud as he sat on the stool with his head held high. The hat was lowered and almost instantly it shouted the House: “Gryffindor!”

The red House went wild with cheers and applause. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw joined in, though more subdued. Slytherin remained notedly silent.

“Like nobody saw that coming,” the girl standing next to Adrian muttered under her breath. He had only faintly heard her under the loud mantra of “We got Potter!” led by two frolicking twins. Adrian spared her a glance as the hall settled and the Sorting continued.

And then finally: “Selwyn, Hadrianus!”

Adrian was relieved that Bellatrix’s spell had worked on the roster. He squared his shoulders and strode across the room, his shoes clicking loudly while everyone watched him curiously. He noticed glares from the Gryffindor table, likely assuming he was related to the well-known dark family with the same name.

(In truth, it was so much worse but it was unlikely anyone would ever actually know that.)

He climbed onto the stool and tried to calmly wait for the hat to drop onto his head and obscure his vision. The moment it did, he felt something blast right through the pathetic strings that were his occlumency barriers.

‘My my,’ he heard an indescribable, masculine voice whisper. It seemed to pause for a moment, before continuing along the path with a destination unknown. ‘I was under the assumption you had died.’

Adrian’s facial expressions twitched slightly. Thankfully, no-one would see with the hat over his eyes like it was. ‘I did.’

‘ Well, If you would like to call it that I believe we could compromise. Harry Potter is dead .’

Adrian felt a wave of satisfaction from the blunt confirmation.

The hat felt it and chuckled lowly in his head. ‘ Of course, it is against my abilities to inform anyone of our exchange. A useful thing, ah yes, but you already know this. You thirst for more information, but you hold back .’

Adrian neither confirmed nor denied the hat, simply awaiting its decision.

‘ Ironic, isn’t it, Mr. Riddle? Your entire situation, your life now... Your motivation and your goals, oh very cunning indeed... They may conflict with my own personal beliefs and judgement, although they are commendable. You show remarkable bravery, perhaps I should sort you into-- ’

‘Don’t. Don’t you dare,’ Adrian threatened, trying to quell the rising wave of panic at such a prospect.

‘ No no, of course not. It is humorous that your mind bears such resemblance to your father’s. ’

‘ I am nothing like Potter .’

‘ James Potter is not your father, Mr. Riddle. And because of this and the struggles you have overcome, it shall be-- ’

“Slytherin!”

It took Adrian a moment to realise that this last part had been shouted out loud.

The tables clapped politely as Adrian stepped down and walked over to the table. Draco had cleared a spot for him nearest a girl with the surname Greengrass. He spotted Calum at the Ravenclaw table, looking inexplicably relieved.

The feast finished very quickly afterwards, the only announcement which stood out in Adrian’s mind was Dumbledore’s strange statement that the third floor corridor was out of bounds and only then to anybody who didn’t want to suffer a very painful death.

At the end of the feast the large group that was Slytherin moved, rising and filtering out of the Great Hall before taking a sharp left to descend into the dungeons where apparently the Slytherin common room and dormitories were located.

The hallways were dark and muggy, the air stiflingly thick and almost too moist, the consequence of all that torchlight and the castle being so close to the lake no doubt. Adrian felt uncomfortably with the close quarters, yet almost as quickly as they pressed in they opened to more pleasant stone hallways, forking to the left and then to the right.

The Slytherin Prefects led the way, directing everyone to a specific lantern stand with a well engraved snake curled around the mount.

“Hello First Years,” The Seventh Year Prefect announced, looking very pleased with the selection. “This is the entryway to the Slytherin Common Rooms. The password is Dragon Eye. Keep updated, as the password will be changed by the end of the week.”

At the password, the snake shifted, wriggling free from the stone and working as a latch in itself. The wall around the torch fell and curled in on itself. It rolled, sliding out of the way with a silent flare of light. The Prefect ducked inside without waiting for the baffled First Years to get their bearings.

The room opened up into a large domed cavern. The ceiling was supported by archaic iron archways, the very very top was dark black, although it shifted ever so slightly with colour. Adrian assumed it was charmed like the great hall.

An older girl with short hair stepped forward. This was the other Seventh Year Prefect. “The rooms are divided by Years. Unlike the other Houses, we have plenty of individual bedrooms. Depending on your Year, your room is located in different hallways or locations. Each room generally has two students to it, however you can swap roommates at any time, just take your name plaque with you.” She pointed at the staircase alongside her own. The other instead of ascending, descended to a hallway lit by green torches. “First Years are down the stairs. Second and Third Years are to the right, Fourth and Fifth are to the left. Sixth and Seventh are up the stairs. Us Prefects are also up the stairs.”

“If House drama comes up,” The male Prefect took over. “Don’t fight it out outside of here. We’re Slytherin, I don’t care if you’re having problems. Outside of this room we stand together.”

He noticed a few First Years looking uncomfortable, and he wondered just who was already picking sides or trying to influence the Slytherin hierarchy.

“Good!” The female exclaimed, clapping suddenly and looking amused as everyone startled to attention. “Go find your rooms. Professor Snape, our Head of House will be here soon to discuss rules and other pertinent information.”

With that, they were dismissed and allowed to file down the narrow staircase, peering down, looking for their names among the silver name plaques.

That’s how Adrian found his room as well as the name of his roommate. He’d hoped for a single, but he wasn’t too worried; he knew at some point of time he could likely weed out the others and manage to get a room of his own. For now he just had to deal with whoever this stranger was.

“You’re Selwyn?” Another boy grunted, eying up Adrian critically. Adrian did the same, noticing the sharp, aristocratic features and the slanting eyes.

“And you must be Zabini.” Adrian nodded, looking at the boy who only wrinkled his nose slightly. Zabini would probably be popular for his appearance in the future, Adrian thought.

Zabini pushed past carefully and opened the room.

The room was… surprisingly large actually, very spacious. There was an open area immediately upon entering. From there, there was a two step lip along the left and right walls. On the elevated platform sat a pair of ordinary-looking beds and matching drawers were pressed flush to the back wall. Adrian spotted his black trunk as well as the ‘cage’ he had placed Lutain in at the end of one of the beds.

Blaise Zabini went directly over to his things, opening his chest to look at its contents critically.

Adrian didn’t bother, already he took out his wand. With an elaborate flourish, he pointed his wand at the set of drawers. “Rigaterim.”

They expanded, sliding upwards and shifting into a double door wardrobe. He repeated the action with the single bed, turning it into a double.

“Exuo,” he then muttered, watching with a small sense of satisfaction as his clothing removed itself from his trunk and slid into the wardrobe almost identical to how he preferred at his home.

Once he had everything set up and resting in an acceptable way, he glanced back to see how Blaise had set up his segment of the room. Somehow the other had managed to alter the colour of the walls into a tasteful shade of dark charcoal. It was more aesthetically pleasing compared to the shocking white on Adrian’s side.

“You mind birds?” It didn’t sound like a question.

Zabini reached into his own trunk, more exotic-looking than Adrian’s, and somehow pulled an entire bird perch from the depths and set it up challengingly near a bedside table. Adrian frowned slightly, the bluntness of Zabini’s action caught him off guard. He had a feeling that the boy would have ignored him even if he didn’t want a bird in the room.

“Don’t attack my snake,” Adrian responded, his voice clipped. He pulled out the charmed box for Lutain before restoring it to normal size. The box rested easily under Adrian’s bed.

He noticed how Blaise’s eyes seemed to light up when Lutain slid out the first time. Evidently he had been expecting a smaller snake.

“Strix,” Blaise offered once he pulled out a rather impressive black bird with red eyes. It looked far too delicate with feather crests and thin claws to partake in long flying like owls. It truly was just an exotic pet, one that looked far too composed for having been hiding in a trunk for hours.

“I hope it isn’t an actual strix,” Adrian jabbed. The appearance of Zabini's bird wasn't  what an actual strix supposedly looked like. Blaise simply smiled thinly.

“Lutain,” Adrian offered, watching as his familiar in question glanced around interestedly before trying to get into Adrian’s trunk where he knew a couple stunned mice were stored.

Zabini gave a jerk of his head, and left his bird perched on its dark stand like it was a wall decoration. The bird looked at the snake with sightless eyes and Lutain hissed in retaliation.

Blaise didn’t offer to accompany Adrian back to their common room. Instead the boy simply left, leaving Adrian a precious few moments alone.

“How was the train?” Adrian smiled, stroking down the smooth scales of his companion’s back.

“Terrible!” Lutain hissed, seeming very upset. “It was dark and loud with many hisses! Not good!”

Adrian shrugged, it would be the easiest way to smuggle Lutain into the school. Although considering Blaise also had a pet that evidently broke the school rules, he figured most of the Slytherins ignored the rule anyways.

“ You’ll enjoy it here much more. I don’t think the others will find it too odd for a snake to be in the common room. Just don’t bite anyone.”

Lutain managed to somehow look affronted, “ I am not vermin-brain. ”

Adrain chuckled lowly, allowing Lutain to slide up and over his robes. Lutain nestled into his usual position, looping around his neck and upper right arm.

Adrian turned, exiting his room and ascending the stairs where the rest of his Year had already gathered under the direction of the two Prefects.

“Welcome all, to Slytherin,” the boy started. “My name is Terence, that is Vaisley. We are your Prefects for this year. That means if any of you have questions or problems with the other Houses come to us or our head of House, Professor Snape.”

“Let’s get this in the open,” Vaisley chimed in, her expression falling into something serious. “Some of us come from more… reputable families, but we are all in this House now. We stick together and present a unified front. There will be no insulting each other for whatever reason outside these walls. No-one in the other Houses will make the distinction between if you are or aren’t dark. And for Merlin’s sake, don’t attack the Gryffindor’s alone.”

Vaisley had the proper amount of exasperation in her tone to imply that such a thing had occurred before.

“Everyone in this House has strengths and weaknesses. We don’t care if you’re good at charms or rubbish at astronomy, if you need help, you get help. We don’t tolerate laziness, or poor marks,” Terence stated bluntly. “Most upper Years are decent at healing charms. Ask one of us for help before going to the infirmary and making a scene.”

Vaisley sat herself down on one of the dark leather chairs, pulling out a rolled up scroll from in her pocket and produced a quill. “Alright you lot, I’m assuming most of you brought either something illegal or something not directly permitted by the school rules. Thankfully, the Slytherin rooms have their own set of wards-- once you’re older you can place whatever wards you want on your room itself. Or pay someone to do it for you. How many of you brought pets?”

Adrian grudgingly lifted his arm, alongside a decent portion of the incoming students.  “It’s fine. If something goes missing it’s your responsibility. If anyone gets injured from it, it’s your responsibility. You feed it, you control it, you keep it.”

Lutain twitched and peered around the room curiously. Adrian spotted Draco staring at Lutain in slight disbelief.

The rest of the meeting continued rather blandly. At one point their Head of House stopped in. He was a tall man with pale skin and greasy hair. He had a large hooked nose and what seemed like a permanent sneer. He didn’t seem that interested or enthusiastic for the year, but once again did reinforce the concept that the older Years were the ones to go to if they had need.

The First Years were directed to a bulletin board on the opposite side of the open common room. The board was split into multiple sections, some scrolls were pinned up advertising events or tournaments likely to occur on a weekend. Adrian learned that this was where students sometimes posted questions that they needed answered, as well as services or goods that they were willing to sell. He also spotted a bright red flier, boldly forbidding the breeding and sale of pets to one another.

The rest of the night was spent with an open question-and-answer session. Most of the questions were asinine and if anything, proved who were lacking the proper intelligence. (A lumbering duo stuck close to Malfoy, they seemed to have half of anyone’s intelligence held collectively between them.)

Adrian instead opted to return to his room. He started attempting to construct the few wards he knew, simple things he had tried to create once moving into the Lestrange household. Having some forewarning when someone was outside his door gave him precious moments to prepare for whatever rabid attack Bellatrix conjured.

Adrian linked the ward to a small glass ball he brought with him, alongside a leather bracelet. It would last for now, but later on, once he actually knew and studied more wards, he would be able to make something longer lasting. A silencing ward was also constructed; he didn’t want to have to hear all of Zabini’s bird’s chirping titters.

He wasn’t exactly pleased to have to share his room. It was tolerable, but he’d have to establish some sort of set rules with Zabini. If he was lucky, he could perhaps bargain the boy into shifting to another room. The boy, Nott, seemed rather awkward but held potential.

Adrian smiled to himself. It was going to be an interesting year.

Chapter Text

Adrian glanced upwards over the cover of the  book he was reading. He’d quickly fallen into something of a routine. It was a relaxed Wednesday afternoon. Having just finished his Charms class that morning, he was lounging comfortably in the Hogwarts Library until dinner.

His makeshift schedule allowed him plenty of time to work on the Herbology essay he had been assigned painfully early that morning. Despite the post waking daze that accompanied the greenhouses, it was purely coincidental his inherent knack for magical creatures somehow related to his understanding of magical flora. Adrian was almost certain the marks of many of his classmates rested in his gloved hands.

He had taken the only book in the library relating to the pertinent topic of his essay: the use of Arnica outside of poison brewing. His book listed, in rather impressive detail, that Arnica was still used as a herbal treatment for bruises and sprains on humans.

“Er, hello.”

Adrian jolted, nearly knocking his inkwell from the armrest of the chair. The book slid from his lap, snapping shut as it landed on the floor amidst the flurry of his papers. Reflexively, he scrambled to catch the book, already aware that it was futile.

Adrian had assumed that he would be the first person in the library with the intent of finishing the homework. The chances that he would encounter anyone with the same mindset was low, especially considering it was assigned just that morning.

The girl who had startled him so terrible stepped out from around a bookshelf. Her eyes were wide with guilt, Adrian was embarrassed -- had he become so relaxed at Hogwarts he could be caught off guard by a girl?

“I was wondering if you were--”

“Are you planning on working on the herbology essay?” Adrian abruptly offered, trying to smooth the situation the best he could. He leant down from his chair, hoisting the tome off the floor.

“I’m sorry,” the girl apologized, looking frazzled. She looked ready to bolt, yet something about her was familiar.

She had unruly hair and a hideously bright red scarf which only served to make her skin colour seem that much more untasteful.

“Oh, we’ve met! One the train!” She enthusiastically blurted, blushing once she realized her outburst. She scowled, looking disgruntled, a thought occurring to her perhaps. “It’s a shame we aren’t in the same house, Hadrianus.”

Adrian felt disgruntled at her unintentional jab at Slytherin. “I could say the same. Gryffindor, is… unfortunate.”

She didn’t deny it, which likely meant that the other girls had realized how snobby she was.

“Sit down, I’ll share the book with you,” Adrian offered, pointing to the seat next to him, currently being used by Adrian’s bag. She blushed once again before shuffling over and dropping her own heavy bag on the floor next to him. She sat heavily onto the chair once it was cleared, and wasted no time pulling out her plethora of books and parchment. Adrian raised one eyebrow when he noticed she had already been writing the essay, even without the book she wanted.

“I like to get my assignments done in advance,” she struggled to explain, seeming nervous in his company.

“As do I,” Adrian soothed, showing how nearly complete his assignment was already. She gaped in surprise and gave a genuine smile before hiding her face in her hair.

They continued, eventually finishing their essays once able to bounce information back and forth. Hermione (her name had finally come to him while writing) was rather intelligent; it was a shame she felt the urge to flaunt it so obviously.

“Could you help me with essays again sometime?” She asked, eyes wide and watery with how hopeful she was.

Adrian was suddenly struck with the situation and just how perfect it was.

“Of course,” he nearly purred, trying to keep the grin threatening to split his face absent. “But I make deals.”

Hermione paused, suddenly rather timid. “Deals?”

Adrian briefly wondered if he was acting as slimy as Calum. He nodded politely, “Exactly. In the Slytherin house, it’s common to have some sort of... assurance. Some classmates like to take advantage of you.”

Hermione nodded eagerly, clearly sympathizing with him. Adrian took it as a sign to continue.

“Deals are essentially promises. I’ll help you, and you’ll help me in the future. Of course, I would always accept galleons if you’re purchasing something I own.” He smiled slowly, trying to persuade her gently. He could tell that the girl was relaxing. “But in this case, it’s so I’ll help you again sometime.”

Hermione was still wary but it looked like she was considering the offer, now that he had explained it. She worried her lower lip with her prominent front teeth. When she spoke, her words were careful and considered. “Well, that would be nice.”

Adrian smiled and pulled out his wand. He motioned for her to touch the opposite end of his wand, forming a link between them.

In a clear calm voice, Adrian incanted, “Peddlemus.”

His wand warmed under his hand. Hermione twitched slightly, clearly feeling the warmth on her end. It lingered, before slowly fading.

“There,” Adrian said, smiling. He pulled his wand back and slid it into his holster.

Hermione smiled and she looked much happier. Adrian assumed it was because now he was forced to spend time in her presence.

He almost felt bad for her.

“Incorrect!”

Although he was sitting on the far side of the room and the words hadn’t been directed towards him, Adrian flinched. The boisterous tone of voice was seriously messing on his head.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was being taught by the most insufferable man Adrian had ever the misfortune of meeting once again. James Potter looked practically gleeful as he took five more points from the stunned looking Pansy Parkinson.

The Hufflepuffs weren’t exactly sure what to do. It was blatantly obvious that Professor Potter was trying to take as many points as possible from the Slytherins and was enjoying every second of his success.

It was grating on Adrian’s nerves. Each jab was making him tense, until only a few more sneers and dumb looks from Hufflepuff until he snapped.

Adrian was filled with intense loathing as James Potter once again asked a question to the unprepared Daphne Greengrass. She stuttered but it was too late, already Potter was snatching points.

Was Potter even qualified for teaching? Wasn’t he an Auror?

“Mr. Malfoy!” James Potter started once more, voice crooning in contrast to the huge shark like grin spreading across his features. “What is a Daywalker!”

‘ Oh! ’ Adrian felt attention perking up, the questions were venturing into magical creatures? Now this was a topic he knew.

“A Daywalker is a species of vampire that is impervious to sunlight,” Malfoy responded, each word grinding from his locked jaw. Malfoy had been the prime target of Potter throughout the entire (much too long) class already.

It was a well known fact that Draco’s father only narrowly escaped being sentenced to Azkaban. With how involved Potter was with the arrests, he could have been the one who escorted the man to his trial.

“Five points from Slytherin for stating the obvious!” Potter was nearly vibrating with excitement, “The proper answer would include the description of its fangs and eyes!”

Oh this was getting ridiculous.

“Mr. Selwyn!” James Potter directed, shifting from where he stood on his little platform to look at Adrian directly.

Adrian froze and with restrained trembling he met the soft brown eyes. Chillingly acidic green scalded and seared into James with emotion so strong, it stunned the man for a few seconds.

“Do phoenixes die?” Stumbling, James Potter asked.

Adrian almost smiled.

“Yes, phoenixes can die.”

“Incorrec-”

“I apologize professor. Would you like me to specify how they die? I don’t like to presume such things, but if that was the case, your question shouldn’t have been so direct.” Adrian interrupted, he revelled in the almost euphoric sensation of a shocked James Potter.

“Elaborate,” James Potter demanded. The man crossed his arms, choosing to lean against his personal desk in the relaxed picture of teacher authority.

“A phoenix can die from its bond with its master if the bond is strong enough and the master dies. It can also die from neglect or abuse. That is only with tamed birds, since the majority of phoenixes are still wild. The bird can also die on command, if it ever wants. Curses will not harm a phoenix, instead it’ll revert back into its hatchling state. Specific venoms from its natural predator will kill it, alongside a few species of plants.”

The room was silent, Adrian curling his hands tightly into fists. He felt the biting sting of his nails puncturing the skin of his palms, but didn’t back down from Potter.

The rising nagging thoughts rose slowly in the back of his mind, regardless of his attempts to crush them. The ravenous doubt that left him inexplicably desiring affection from his-- ‘ No! James Potter is not my father!’

His teeth began grinding together, the ache in his jaw providing clarity to dismiss the nonsense.

‘He’s not even that good of a teacher. I bet he spoils the Gryffindors for holding a quill. He spoils Skylar. Why didn’t he sp-’

He almost screamed with fury, he could tell his entire body was shaking ever so slightly. His face was aching.

The little bell on James Potter desk rang itself. Potter blinked, somehow still stunned and staring at Adrian almost hypnotized. He floundered, not actually saying anything while everyone gathered their objects and filed out of the room.

The group walked silently back to the common room. Once the door opened and they walked in quietly, the older years looked at the new students slightly interested.

Then Pansy burst into cheers and hugged Adrian, who yelped backwards in surprise.

“Selwyn got Potter!” Theo cheered, seeming smug through Adrian’s own abilities.

“The golden boy brat?” One of the third years asked curiously, not too interested with the ruckus.

“No, the professor.” Pansy clarified, looking much too starry eyed for Adrian’s comfort.

“Bloody hell, how did you manage that?” A fifth year gasped, looking at Adrian interestedly. “That clotpole won’t even give Vaisley five points.”

Draco seemed rather annoyed with the topic, and stomped away to sit on a vacant couch.

“You should have seen it, answered the question and shut him right up.” Theo grinned, giving Adrian an appreciative look. “You’re going to be useful when Quidditch season comes around!”

“Always happy to be of service.” Adrian sighed, trying to slip away from the new interest from the upper years.

It wasn’t that big of a deal.

Adrian noticed afterwards on the house cup record in the Slytherin common room, he had been awarded ten points by Professor Potter.

The dynamics of the  Slytherin house were confusing and convoluted. Each Year apparently had some sort of hierarchy established. The older you were, the greater your inherent right to order those younger than you around was. It was particularly aggravating when a fifth year openly told you to fetch them useless objects or food.

It reminded Adrian all too well of the lazy pigs which treated him similarly.

It was even more loathsome when power-plays began just before the end of October.

A heavy set girl, twice the size of Daphne Greengrass, a fair haired snobbish First Year, had gotten it into her head that she was the superior authority of the Year. She hadn’t any qualms with Draco, who had almost instinctively claimed his high position. Instead, this stocky large jawed doberman challenged Adrian.

Theo had snickered to himself, looking interested while fidgeting. Watching Adrian and Millicent (as he had been later informed) battle it out was something of a train wreck.

She first demanded Adrian move his position from where he sat on the couch. He lazily obliged, having offered a long mocking swoop of his arm which undermined the fact he actually had moved. The next act was having snatched the food from his plate before he could even eat. He instead smiled and sipped on whatever drink the house elves had provided. He hadn’t touched any part of his meal, instead offering it to Crabbe who eagerly snatched up the spare biscuit.

Millicent started to throw jabs, vicious spittle coated words which weren’t at all pestering considering how petty they truly were. By now, a week had gone on and Millicent had not gained any ground, although she hadn’t lost any either.

Millicent had cornered him in the common room one friday evening. Adrian was reading through a book rather quickly in search of an answer for a Hufflepuff girl who was likely going to fail her assignment without his aid. Millicent plopped onto the couch across from him, wearing a smug look more at home on a pug.

“ So, I was looking at tapestries,” She started, already almost crowing with victory. “And you aren’t part of the Selwyn family!”

Adrian blinked, paused, then nearly groaned.

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, speaking slowly with the rising tension of the room.

“I’m from another one. Selwyn is a popular last name, you know.”

“You aren’t in any of them!” She cheered, grin looking positively vicious. “That means you’re adopted!”

Adrian paused, calmly turned the page of his book, withheld the flinch, and raised an eyebrow.

“I bet your real parents don’t even like you,” Millicent nearly giggled. “I bet you're from a pathetic family! Maybe even Longbottom!” She was full out laughing now, drawing the attention of a few other students. “I bet they got rid of you so they wouldn’t have to ever see your ugly mug again!”

Adrian didn’t notice how tight his grip was on his book until he heard a nearly inaudible creaking noise. He glanced downwards at his book. The corners of the pages he had been reading furled inwards on itself, like watching a flower close bloom in reverse.

The room was struck with the pungent smell of smoke, and a few wafts trailed upwards from his hands.

Millicent didn’t seem to notice, although a few of the upper years murmured to one another. They evidently had seen the smoke and now understood the cause was the steadily intensifying anger.

Millicent finally noticed that she had gained something over Adrian. She beamed, looking thoroughly impressed with herself. She walked away with her head held high.

Theo had seen the exchange, and seemed conflicted with the results.

The next day in Herbology, the teacher, Professor Sprout, had the idea to introduce the group as well as the Ravenclaws to a dangerous thorny plant with bright red flowers capable of breathing fire.

The plant in question was fascinating, although the name escaped Adrian. It thrashed and smoldered and provided a delicious opportunity.

Theo had chanced looking upwards with a grimace from where he was trying to prune his own plant. Adrian, standing across from him with his own plant, had a nearly obsessive look on his face as he stared down the row at Millicent.

Theo watched, tilting his head curiously as before his eyes, Adrian’s hands flexed slightly and his pupils dilated rather suddenly.

Millicent screamed almost instantly after. Theo spun his head to look at her, where her hair and her robes had caught marvelous lapping flames. She was crying, thick alligator tears falling down her face while the air was filled with the acrid stench of burning hair.

Professor Sprout hurried down the row, scolding the others of the dangers of the flower. She hushed Millicent and took her aside, patting out the very eager flames with her fire retardant gloves.

Theo slowly looked back at Adrian, who finally blinked and looked away. He calmly tended to his plant over the sounds of Millicent’s whimpers.

Theo was extra twitchy, stumbling over to mumble his speculations to Pansy who had shrieked in delight over the rumor. She spread it rapidly, efficiently enough that by dinner that night it was a Slytherin secret that Adrian Selwyn could set things aflame, wandlessly and nonverbally.

When Millicent was released from the hospital wing a few days later, it wasn’t only a stack of homework assignments awaiting her.

Adrian smiled at her when she returned, offering a pleasent, “So glad to see you weren’t burnt too badly.”

She realized when her half finished essay curled and burned under her hands, that the injury was entirely intentional.

By the end of that week, Adrian had secured his position as untouchable.

Chapter Text

Adrian had mixed feelings over Halloween. It was the day of the pagan Samhain festival, something Adrian enjoyed quite thoroughly. On that day, it was custom to honor the dead, or the names of your ancestors. Although awkward and uncomfortable, it was an apparent honor to stumble through the names of your ancestors, tracing your lineage back as far as you could. Adrian could certainly understand why reciting his lineage, the descendants of Salazar Slytherin, would be a privilege .

On the other hand, the night was repeatedly marked with the foreign high pitch hiss of ‘Show the boy his place!’ and Bellatrix unhinged like a mad hound. She was entirely a different person, the concepts of comfort or maternal instinct absent from her cackling and vicious curses.

Adrian had shouted, he had begged--

He twitched, fingers sliding towards a phantom ache of something wriggling in his abdomen. His sudden movement jarred the book which had been balanced lazily on his lap.

Draco looked up sharply, following the book with a pinched look of annoyance. His elaborate albino peacock quill stopped scratching against his parchment.

“What, is that book too boring for your prestigious tastes?” Draco asked, looking challengingly at Adrian. It was no lie that Adrian was very particular about his books, that he was very critical of them.

“Says the one holding a peacock quill,” Adrian snipped back, without much feeling.

Draco only scowled, looking back at the book of charms and jinxes not taught in the Hogwarts curriculum.

“I hope you’re not planning on using that on Bulstrode,” Draco warned, not flinching at Adrian’s glare.

“I did nothing to that girl--”

Draco looked at him with obvious skepticism.

“It’s for a bargain, a second year Slytherin wants a hex that is unique enough to do damage, but tricky enough not to be fixed quickly.” Adrian explained, “Three galleons on it.”

“So now you’re selling your services too?” Draco rolled his eyes. His tone made it clear he thought the idea of Adrian selling his services was beneath him. “Give you a sickle and you’ll jinx Potter for me?”

“I’d need more than a sickle if you want me to hunt down a professor,” Adrian grunted, flipping to a specific page before turning and showing Draco the desired hex.

Draco read it, eyes widening in surprise at the description, “The Jelly-finger hex?”

“Makes your target unable to hold anything in their hands, not taught in schools, and has a potion to reverse the effects. Which takes two days to brew,” Adrian deadpanned, the wicked gleam in his eyes belying his even tone. “Pretty useful.”

Draco paused. “What was the incantation for that--”

Adrian snapped the book shut, sliding it into his bag with a blank expression. He looked at Draco and dryly informed the blonde that the information would cost him three galleons. Draco scowled again.

But he paid Adrian anyway.

The Slytherin first year boys shuffled into the great hall in quest for lunch. The hall was nearly vacant, people tried to stay away since it was in the process of being decorated for the feast later in the day.

“What charms do you reckon they use?” Blaise muttered, just loud enough for the group to hear. Adrian peered up and over, seeing a large pumpkin getting dragged across the floor between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

He opened his mouth once Theo looked at him expectantly, the pumpkin turned and Adrian froze alongside Theo.

“None,” Adrian breathed, resisting the urge to walk over to the creatures.

“We’re used to him acting all mysterious, but what’s gotten into you?” Draco drawled, looking pointedly at Theo who spluttered, eyes never leaving the creatures.

Theo could see Thestrals?

“It’s nothing!” Theo snapped, his voice a bit higher than normal. He was fidgeting and looked aggravated.

Adrian had to agree. It would be suspicious as to why a first year would be able to see an omen of death so clearly.

Thestrals were absolutely beautiful.

Adrian found himself sneaking peeks towards the animals any time he could as he helped himself to the recently harvested vegetables and fruits. The apples were just ripe. He bit into one with a satisfying crunch while he watched the winged horses help tug another pumpkin into position.

They stumbled out of the great hall, Adrian heading off to snatch Lutain from where he lay dozing back in Adrian’s room (casting a glare at Strix when the bird tried to snap at his fingers), and headed to the library.

He almost bumped into a crying Hermione, who was too upset to see who she had actually run past. Adrian blinked in surprise, but decided it was best to ignore her and headed to the library to read.

He was reading for pleasure, listening absently as Lutain rattled off what Adrian had missed in the time he had been gone. The Slytherin boy paused, listening as Lutain described how Blaise had very cautiously hidden what seemed to be a suspicious book into a locked trunk. The info wasn’t surprising, considering how Blaise had actively smuggled a live animal into Hogwarts. The ramifications were alarming, if Blaise unfortunately was caught with the book, assuming it was illegal, he could easily blame it on Adrian. Adrian also had to wonder why Lutain, a snake barely able to articulate, considered a book ‘suspicious’.

“And you saw all of this?” Adrian murmured under his breath. His focus was now entirely on his companion.

“Yes!” Lutain crowed. He was just as frustrated by the Strix as Adrian was. “He speaks word cotello.”

“Cotello?” Adrian repeated in English, just to make sure the translation hadn’t changed the word.

Lutain hissed excitedly, causing Adrian to smile and slide the book back on the shelf. He already knew all the spells in that specific book anyway.

He left the room, scanning through the courtyards and only nodding his acknowledgement to fellow Slytherins who briefly stated his name. Word had started to spread outside to the other houses that he had wordless magic. As had the rumors of his bargain.

He hadn’t been approached by Calum, which was in itself surprising.

“Selwyn!”

Adrian stopped, glancing over his shoulder and mentally cursing when he saw a stocky and aggressive Hufflepuff approaching him from down the hallway.

“Yes, Macmillan?”

“What’s this I hear about you making an oath with Susan!” The blond-haired Hufflepuff hissed, looking absolutely furious.

“I don’t make oaths,” Adrian corrected, his tone making it clear that he didn’t like how the Hufflepuff was asserting himself. The blond-haired boy was acting far too similar to another boy Adrian once knew.

“Then what do you call that thing you made with her!”

“I make bargains.”

“Yeah, like your slimy snake.” Macmillan growled angrily, whipping out his wand to hold under Adrian’s chin.

Lutain reared, looking threatening with his fangs unhinged. Lutain had grown, eyes bright and scales glossy in the October light.

Macmillan didn’t falter, which was in itself surprising.

“I bet you’re plotting something evil,” Macmillan said. “That’s all you pathetic lot do!”

“I suggest you lower your wand. You’re making a scene,” Adrian reprimanded sharply. “Not that I think you know any worthwhile spells to begin with.”

“You’re right,” Macmillan agreed all too quickly. Surprisingly the Hufflepuff lowered his wand. Before Adrian could react, Macmillan pulled back his fist and clobbered the Slytherin.

Adrian’s head recoiled back. Macmillan had hit his nose. It was bleeding slightly, which had Lutain rearing, thoroughly angered.

“You badger den weasel! Your fur is sour and dirt!” Lutain hissed.

Something about Lutain’s insults and the throbbing pulse in Adrian’s face brought a rising tug of something to a crescendo.

He imagined Bellatrix’s laughter over it all.

Adrian giggled, reaching up with one hand to staunch the bleeding the best he could. He went cross eyed, trying to stare at his nose. His one eye was already straining to do so with the darkening marks of a bruise.

Adrian’s face shifted, unhinging to look relaxed with a bright excited smile parting his lips and getting him giddy.

Macmillan looked stunned, not actually expecting to do any damage. Adrian’s eye hurt and the skin felt pulsating warm. It was a familiar sensation, hadn’t Bella always told me that second blood was always justifiable.

“Master?” Lutain asked, his voice low and soothing. Adrian ignored him.

“An eye for an eye,” Adrian said, grinning. He tasted blood. His teeth tinged pink.

Why wasn’t Macmillan finding it funny as well?

“What-- I-- I didn’t--” Macmillan stuttered, and Adrian’s eyes dilated and his knuckle popped.

Adrian felt the exhilarating rush as his blood and magic beckoned to a call he didn’t know yet. There was something distinctly satisfying watching Macmillan’s eyes bulge as it undoubtedly struck him.

Macmillan gagged, retching with both hands moving to his mouth. With almost exaggerated slowness, Macmillan pulled away a hand from his bleeding mouth. He was holding the lower segment of a cracked tooth.

“A bargain is a bargain.” Adrian announced, looking at Macmillan through the latter’s horrified gaze, “Next time you try something, you know what to expect.”

One of the Slytherin upper years healed Adrian’s black eye efficiently with lingering curiosity. She knew who she was, likely one of the few upper years who actually believed him too.

His eye was healed, his nose fixed, and just in time for the Halloween feast.

He walked with Theo, who had gotten rather attached to Adrian as of recent. Likely because even Theo was smart enough to recognize, with his family being a predominantly dark family, that having a strong ally was important.

Theo took his seat next to Adrian, Draco sitting on his other side. Across from them sat Crabbe and Goyle, with Pansy next to them. Daphne and Millicent were further down the table, trying to avoid them as best they could.

Draco scoffed when a group of bats swept close to the Hufflepuffs and they squealed.

“A bunch of sheep they are,” Draco muttered, trying to ignore Pansy’s barking laughter.

“It’s a bad design” Theo sniped, snatching an apple from a nearby bowl. “All the houses get good traits except that bunch,”

“I think I get it, the Hufflepuffs are too loyal for their own part,” Blaise murmured, taking the seat on the far side of Theo. “Too loyal to a single person.”

Adrian snorted quietly, remembering just earlier that day.

“ Speaking of Hufflepuff, I heard a Hufflepuff boy was in the hospital wing earlier,” Daphne said, sliding over and leaning into Pansy to address the group. Her eyes were silvery sharp, “Something to do with you, Selwyn?”

Adrian looked at her blankly.

“You sent a boy to the hospital wing?” Draco drawled. The ‘ again?’ was implied and everyone knew it.

Adrian reached for a roll, opening it and spreading some apple butter on the inside. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I also heard that Maricia Holdwyn had to heal a black eye,” Daphne added, holding a slightly tilted smile. “Seems whoever it was got a good hit in.”

Adrian felt a small inkling of anger. Was Daphne now challenging him as well?

Draco looked pointedly at Adrian, who was calmly looking at Daphne. Adrian shook his head dismissively, saying, “I heard the Hufflepuff boy is missing a few teeth. I wonder why, when he had no bruises.”

Daphne backed down, suddenly more interested in the food on her plate. The others seemed to become a bit more interested in their own meals too. They all knew that they hadn’t learned any hexes to remove teeth.

“Adrian?” Theo muttered under his breath, taking a large slice of moist turkey. Adrian glanced sideways, seeing his slightly sheepish expression. The conversation topics had changed, everyone was involved with their own debates at the moment.

“Yes, Nott?” Adrian sighed, turning to face the thin blonde hair boy more directly. Adrian’s use of his surname seemed to heighten his anxiety.

“What were the uh, the things?” Theo started, shifting uncomfortably. “That the other people couldn't see?”

“Thestrals,” Adrian answered, glancing through the hall where a Thestral was sleeping near the large pumpkin. It was likely staying for the feast and then would help tug the pumpkins out. “They’re omens of death.”

Theo inhaled sharply.

“A Thestral is the exact opposite of a unicorn, or a pegasus. Nobody knows how they breed, or how they’re born. They’re classified as dark creatures by the Ministry.” Adrian smiled and met Theo’s surprised and wondering eyes. “Only people who have witnessed death firsthand can see a Thestral. Isn’t that right, Nott?”

Theo flinched almost instantly.

“Master!” Adrian stopped and looked past Nott towards the great doors which were propped open. He thought he spotted his dark friend moving quickly over the floor towards the Slytherin table. “Master! You must flee!”

Theo was looking at him too suspiciously to risk speaking to Lutain. Instead Adrian craned his head, peering over and searching for Lutain’s approaching form.

“Selwyn? What is it?” Draco asked, looking over in search of what he saw.

Adrian dropped his arm, finally seeing Lutain slithering over the floor in the torchlight. A few murmurs went up and down the table, a few upper years noticing the snake.

“What’s that thing want now?” Blaise muttered, meeting Adrian’s eye. Blaise knew that Adrian often left the door open just enough for his friend.

“Master, a large creature is in the hallways. A large creature! Bumbling and clumsy like a tree!” Lutain snapped, quickly sliding up Adrian’s arm and over his shoulder. Lutain had grown, he was starting to weigh like heavy rope.

“He doesn’t normally come here unless there's something wrong,” Adrian mused, rubbing Lutain’s face.

“A large creature big as tree! Heavy stick. Stench! Masked human pop and it was there! In dark den!”

As large as a tree? Humanoid and with a heavy stick-

Adrian tensed and was instantly confused: how had a troll been snuck into the castle?

“There must be something in the dungeons,” Adrian spoke, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Something which is dangerous.”

He heard Pansy scoff.

The great doors were swung open even further as a panting James Potter ran into the hall, face serious and not at all pausing for breath.

“Troll!” He shouted, using his wand to amplify his voice. “Troll in the dungeons! Prefects, get your students under control and escort them back to the common rooms!”

Skylar immediately jumped and ran down, he raced up to his dad who had cut the amplification spell.

With a sinking feeling, Adrian scanned the Gryffindor table as the hall erupted in screams. Where was Hermione?

Adrian ducked his head close to Lutain and whispered under the shouts, “Did you smell anyone else in the dungeons?”

“Yes, in a water room. Hard with stench. Scent female.”

Hermione was in a toilet in the dungeons? There was an abandoned girls room a few hallways over from the Slytherin common room access; it wouldn’t be that big of a stretch to assume she had hidden from the Gryffindors there.

Adrian stood and slid off the bench, the rest of the students followed his lead. Vaisley and Terence jumped at the chance and started to direct everyone through the halls and down the staircases towards the dungeons.

Lutain took his time scenting the air, glancing around and searching for the troll. Adrian heard no words and smoothly stepped out of the way, ducking behind a suit of armor. The rest of the group filed past quickly, leaving him alone in the hallway only moments later.

“Alright Lutain, can you keep your eyes open for the troll? I’ll find the girl.” Adrian muttered, turning to sharply run down the hallway.

He mentally cursed the loud clicking his shoes made, the sound echoing and distorting surreally. Lutain hissed in surprise when Adrian twisted around one corner, looking frantically for the washroom entrance. The hairs on his arms were standing in the near darkness of the hallway, and the looming threat that a troll was loose anywhere.

He barged through the door, instantly hearing quiet sobs.

“Hermione,” Adrian bluntly stated, locking the door behind him and moving to the stalls. The sobbing abruptly cut off.

“Adrian?” Hermione asked, voice uplifting hopefully. She opened one of the stalls, her eyes red and puffy, “What are you--”

“We don’t have time,” Adrian interrupted, grabbing her arm forcefully. He ignored how Hermione paled once seeing Lutain up close for the first time. “There’s a troll loose in the castle, mountain troll I think, although It could be a oak troll. Stick close, I’ll get you back to the hallways.”

Hermione floundered at the surplus of unexpected information. Both of them froze in sync as the door Adrian had purposefully locked shut, creaked open.

“Master! It stench!” Lutain hissed, pulling a protective stance.

“Back!” Adrian urged, pushing Hermione back against the stall as the two slipped inside. They could hear the heavy footfalls as the troll lumbered into the room, dull echo thumps as it knocked its head against the torch sconces and the ceiling.

Adrian pulled out his wand, ignoring Hermione’s frantic hand gestures to do the opposite. He peered around the corner, spotting the dumb looking troll who was poking a mirror in confusion. It was a mountain troll after all.

“Bite? Bite?” Lutain enthused, flexing eagerly in anticipation.

“When I say, run.” Adrian whispered, before turning and waltzing out entirely.

The troll noticed him immediately, it grunted and hefted the large wooden club up above its head threateningly. It bellowed angrily and Adrian slowly lifted his wand. Without warning, it brought the club down hard.

“Incendio.” Adrian murmured, the club burning instantly, scorching the troll’s hands. It stupidly dropped the club, the heavy burning wood glancing off its right shoulder.

The troll cried out loudly, clutching its shoulder and sobbing at the blisters on its palms. Adrian snatched Hermione by the arm, throwing her past the troll.

She screamed, running around the troll and out the busted door, Adrian followed quickly. He had been trained to run fast, normally sharp curses being cast behind him. There was a sort of terrifying adrenaline which pulsated through his blood. He knew instantly that this troll was more dangerous than anything Bella had thrown at him; with Bella he had the assurance of counterspells and healing potions.

“It’s coming!” Hermione screamed, tears running down her face.

Adrian pointed his wand over his shoulder without looking. “Avis!”

A small flock of canaries shot out of Adrian’s wand. Hermione rounded a corner just ahead. Adrian rounded the same corner, scrambling in surprise when a suit of armor was levitating above his head.

The troll stumbled past, and the suit of armor dropped onto the creature. The collective weight of the metal plates and chainmail weighed heavily and knocked the troll unconscious.

Adrian breathed heavily to catch his breath, Hermione had a breathless smile, looking at Adrian thankfully.

“Get back to your common room, avoid the teachers,” Adrian panted, giving a sharp nod before running off to the hallway perpendicular.

Adrian grinned as he slipped into the common room without eve r seeing a single teacher.

Such a shame that Snape was halfway through a word, addressing the Slytherin house, when Adrian managed to slide in.

Chapter Text

Sirius Black, a sector head Auror as well as James Potter’s close friend, along with Lily Potter, a specialist in wards and charms, marched into Hogwarts the day after the troll was secured.

The troll had been found three corridors over from the Slytherin common room. It was reported that it had developed second degree burns on its hands, dislocated its right shoulder, and somehow obtained a minor concussion. The troll was cautiously charmed and transported by a small Auror team to an unknown location.

The fact the troll’s injuries were public knowledge quickly forced the dynamics of students to shift uncontrollably. Students became suspicious of one another, tensions were nearing a breaking point across houses. Hufflepuffs were snapping at Ravenclaws, just the other day a Gryffindor upper year landed himself in the hospital wing after tackling another student down a flight of stairs.

Adrian was thankful Lutain hadn’t bit the creature, if that was the case there would only be so few suspects.

Draco found the situation amusing, resting in the self-satisfied glow of finally having Adrian under Snape’s wrath. Adrian had almost received a detention for sliding into the common room at such an inopportune moment. The only reason he hadn’t was due to his spotless track record. Once the troll was found with burns, regardless of the previous evidence which implied otherwise, the whispers started. His mysterious tardiness alongside the troll’s injuries painted a target on his back as the only suspect in the eyes of his house-mates. Of course, in a castle populated by students, some legally of age to be considered an adult, it would be asinine for teachers and aurors to interrogate an eleven year old boy.

It didn’t deter Draco, who took it as his personal mission to pry the truth out of Adrian.

“Seems funny, that a troll was actually in the castle.” Draco drawled, moving a chess piece one square forward. Blaise scowled at his opponent, thinking rapidly to counter the move.

“It musta been one heck of a spell to bring it here.” Theo noted, looking just as twitchy as ever, “Musta been one heck of a spell to take it down.”

“If it was a spell.” Draco trailed off, implications weighing heavy as once more, his silver eyes slid to Adrian and his trademark book.

“You all are missing the point,” Adrian stated with a sigh, turning a page absentmindedly with two fingers, “Someone, not a student or staff, brought a live mountain troll into Hogwarts, past the wards.”

Blaise rolled his eyes, “Calm down there, Harry.”

Adrian stiffened suddenly, tensing his entire body to the point of miniscule trembles.

“ What, did you call me?” He asked, forcing casualness despite the rising swell of anxiety and rage. His legs tensed spasmitaclly, his own brute effort to restrain from leaping across and pummeling his roomate. How Adrian wished to see him choke- how the scenario flashed before his eyes with Adrian’s own primitive snarl and his fingers tightening against the fluttering throat-

Blaise blinked lazily and bored, “Harry. Your name is Hadrianus isn’t it? Adrian was getting old-”

“I like it,” Theo chimed, quickly flinching and shying away once he noticed Adrian’s countenance, “Or, er, not?”

“Zabini, you’re switching rooms with Nott.”

Blaise paused, “Like hell I am-”

“Coltello.” Adrian hissed out, snapping his book shut with a crack. His freezing spell was over, now he rolled with the jerky movements of barely restrained violence. Blaise’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared.

“No?” Adrian asked, his voice was wavering suspiciously high, “So get out.”

Blaise’s jaw tensed but he relinquished with sharp nod.

Unaware of the perils of approaching, an upper year walked forward from the other side of the Slytherin Common Room.

“Adrian Selwyn?” Either arrogant or unobserving, an upper year addressed the group carelessly. Theo pointed wordlessly at Adrian, his thin face still expressing the finest twitch of alarm. Blaise recovered first, groaning loudly in frustration as once again, Draco had cornered him into a check.

As if the sound had broken an unspoken spell, the atmosphere broke and melted away.

“How may I be of assistance?” Adrian monotonously asked, relaxing his clenched fists and blinking three times to compose himself.

“You do things for people, right?” The boy asked, looking uncomfortable as he just now comprehended how terse the four were. Adrian gave a minor nod, confirming what was almost public knowledge already.

“Would you meet with this, ah, another student and get something for me?” the boy asked, trying to hide his instinctive shifting of weight.

Considering how shady this already sounded, it didn’t take much of a guess to assume who it was Adrian would have to see.

“I’m to pay Calum a visit?” Adrian sighed, “I don’t do things from the generosity of my heart.”

“What heart?” Draco mumbled, moving a rook to overtake Blaise’s poorly placed knight.

The boy flushed, either embarrassed or annoyed. He reached into his bag- charmed to be larger internally then it appeared. After sinking his arm up to his elbow in the brown sack’s innards, he retrieved a package wrapped in brown paper.

“Two vials of Dreamless Sleep potion, I managed to snag them from the hospital wing awhile back. They’re still good.” The boy urged, Adrian plucked the package and absentmindedly fingered the paper edging.

“Don’t the older students brew this?” Adrian raised one eyebrow, looking disappointed with the offer, “How is this any better than what I can get?”

“It’s Pomfrey,” The boy blinked, looking gobsmacked, “She gets them from St. Mungos!”

Adrian suspected she actually purchased them from a potion supplier company, not St. Mungos directly. Having industrial strength potions instead of blind trust in someone’s brewing abilities was beneficial.

Adrian set the package beside him on his couch, procuring his wand and offering the end daintily. The boy blinked in confusion but pinched the wooden end between his forefinger and thumb.

“Peddlemus, there. I’ll uphold in our bargain. When and where?” Adrian interrogated quietly, obtaining the relevant information. The boy, Dyrik, left.

“That’s what you do?” Draco asked, much more interested having seen the exchange first hand, “You work in little arrangements?”

“I’ve gotten over fifty galleons, and It’s not even holiday break.” Adrian noted, raising one eyebrow at Draco’s gobsmacked expression, “It’s an excellent business.”

Adrian walked up the steps quickly and with precision. His shoes- swapped for soft soles, permitted him to climb the steps essentially silent.

He took the first right once reaching the top of the staircase, seeing the faint glimmer of the setting sun illuminate the covered bridge. A tall figure was leaning against one of the arches, looking at the view of the Black Lake.

“It’s been a while, Calum.” Adrian smiled politely, walking out past the heating wards. The chill of nearly winter bit through his cloak mercilessly.

Calum spun, glaring at Adrian with scowl, “What you doing here, kid?”

“Dyrik sends his regards.” Adrian explained, holding out two galleons which Calum snatched up tentatively. In turn, Calum pulled out two vials of something dark, before passing it over. Adrian grabbed it in his significantly smaller hands.

“Careful there, that’s all I got.” Calum warned.

“Look at you, a potions dealer.” Adrian chuckled, sliding the twin vials into his pocket. Calum scowled, looking on the verge of saying more.

He didn’t, instead he stormed past Adrian through the wards back into the warmth of the castle.  Adrian followed soon after, although the view from the bridge was amazing he’d rather be dressed more suitably against the temperature.

He was descending the stairs when he ran into Hermione. The girl flushed wildly, but seemed determined in a self righteous way.

“Adrian.” she huffed, putting her hands on her hips dramatically in a way which reminded him of Draco, “I want to make a bet!”

Adrian blinked, overly conscious of the vials in his pocket, “Deals. I make deals. Do you have coin?”

She deflated instantly, the Gryffindor bravado vanished from her body like the water of a sink leaving when it’s plug was pulled. She chewed her lip- a horrid habit with teeth like hers, hesitantly shaking her head. Adrian felt a surge of disgust, had others truly caved under an expression so pitiful? Bella would have sent him something memorable if he ever tried an expression as unsightly as that.

“I can make other deals, favours. What is it you need?” Adrian asked, tilting his head curiously.

“I- I’m trying to find anything on this name,” she chewed on her lip unsure. She didn’t seem motivated to indulge him any more information before they had an accordance of sort.

Adrian pulled out his wand and offered the end to Hermione. “Hold the tip, I’ll cast the spell. If I don’t follow through you won’t be expected in any way to help me later on.” Hermione nodded and grabbed it carefully.

“Peddlemus.”

Her eyes widened when she felt the warm tingle, Adrian slid his wand back in his pocket. “What is it you need help with?”

“Nicholas Flamel.” Hermione blurted all too eager for his help, “I- I know the name but I can’t remember from where!”

Flamel, Adrian remembered that name. The ancient man had worked alongside Lutain’s namesake, generally he had created spells for transmutation. Ingredients for alchemy and metallurgy.

“I’ll find out. Where is the Gryffindor common room located?” Adrian asked calmly, Hermione dutifully explained that the room was located behind the portrait of the Fat Woman just off the stairwells.

Now all Adrian had to do was to figure out why Flamel was important enough to have Hermione make a deal with him.

Adrian returned to the large train, prepped to transport the students back to King’s Cross station. Snow had just started to sprinkle, a gentle sight Adrian had seen rarely since he had lived in lower England instead of northern Scotland.

He diverted his eyes once removing himself from the carriage. The Thestrals snuffed loudly, no steam rising from the sunken nostrils.

Adrian once again secured a single compartment for himself. This time he had dragged his trunk along with him, feather-light and slightly shrunken for better maneuvering.

“Going home?” Lutain questioned, peering around the compartment and flicking his tongue wildly, “Home-rats taste best.”

“ That’s because you’re spoiled.” Adrian murmured under his breath, reaching into his other pocket to retrieve a broken quill he had stuffed in one late night at the library.

He held it loosely, twirling the broken shaft and split vanes between his fingers.

He pulled gently at the thrumming whispers under his skin, fingers tingling until they nearly burned just under the nail beds; the quill shivered, changing and warping in a grotesque slow transformation. Sharp edges vibrated on the border of comprehension before warping into brown. The mass of the quill expanded then shrunk, bubbling on the surface like Crabbe’s failed potions. It spasmed in an awkward jumble of magic, something wild and unrestrained forced and shackled to obey Adrian’s focus and desire. It settled and cooled rapidly, complete and laying limp in the shape of a dead mouse.

Lutain scented it immediately, his head turned and wavered as his tongue poked through the small hole in his frontal jaw and flickered incessantly.

Adrian smiled wordlessly, his mind sated if not slightly exhausted from the adrenal thrill which occurred after the release of his magic. It had been a painfully long while since he had any reason to release his intent and shape something to his pleasure.

“Mine?” Lutain asked eagerly, dancing instinctevly at the rodent, “Mine still if you say not. This mine.”

The door to the compartment slid open at the single time to witness not only Lutain’s jaws unhinging to consume a limp rodent, but also the baffling carefree grin on Adrian’s face.

“Bloody hell,” Draco breathed “That is more terrifying than triple detention with Filch.”

Adrian’s smile instantly fell and his expression returned to normal range of clouded impasse. He turned his head, giving Draco one of his dryest glances; Adrian’s hair was ruffled still which partially damaged his newfound composure.

“Why are you here?” Draco ignored the inquiry and instead sat on the seat across from Adrian, he watched Lutain for a moment with tense body language.

“My father always hosts a Yule Ball.” Draco started, his head lifted high.

“I won’t be able to attend,” Adrian cut off Draco, hastily adding in, “No insult intended for your noble house. It would have been a pleasure, although regrettably in my own family the traditions of yule are more...” Adrian trailed off, before offering a wry smile, “It’s difficult to explain.”

Draco’s eyes were clouded although he gave a sharp nod of understanding. He rose, prim and proper before walking to the doors of the compartment and pausing, “I fully anticipate gifts for the holidays from you, Adrian. Obviously it will be reciprocated.”

Adrian gave the barest movement of a nod, “Obviously,”

Adrian returned to the Lestrange household with loud squeals from Bella and gruff welcomes from her husband and brother-in-law.

Bellatrix was rough, grasping his arm excitedly and with enough vigor to blossom bruises under his skin. He returned it briefly, taking a step back as Bellatrix’s eyes scanned his face to take in his new appearance.

“Your hair is getting too long,” She tutted her tongue, grasping the long strands roughly, they were being swept aside on his forehead to not obscure his eyesight. “Have you gotten thinner?”

“Unlikely considering the ridiculous amount of pudding and pastries at every meal,” Adrian rebutted, causing Bellatrix to wriggle in joy.

She was eager, already casting spells upwards against the creaking and groaning supports above their head. Adrian kept his wand on him, ready for a shielding spell incase Bella’s spell’s resulted in breaking the roof after all.

Hedwig returned and took to roosting in the owlery happily,  she had swept into the large dining hall and delivered a still breathing mouse to Lutain to express her satisfaction. The snake in question had ate earlier, Hedwig did not mind his refusal, digging in instead with relish.

The Yule holiday wasn’t especially eventful although compared to the daily schedule of Hogwarts, it was filled with a relentless series of drills and fights. Bellatrix was personally adamant that Adrian had forgotten all he had managed to learn, and took her time to draw out their matches until Adrian was nearly whimpering on the ground.

The third day of winter break Adrian managed to perform the stunning spell, although rudimentary and weak in power, it had caught Bella off guard enough that her elbow was clipped and she teetered to the ground.

The fourth day, she was determined to drill in the spell until it was effortless for him, no matter the amount of times she would have to awaken him.

Adrian slumped to the ground, hand clutching his shoulder where crimson weeped from a cutting curse.

Bellatrix folded her legs and sat directly across from him with a savage look in her eye. She poked his arm, ignoring his hiss of pain and licked the red from her dark nails.

“Your father wants you to learn Occlumency.” She informed Adrian, causing the latter to freeze; the pain in his arm felt so insignificant all the sudden.

“What?” He breathed, pulling his knees to his chest and clutching them carefully.

“I don’t know how to do it,” Bellatrix confessed, “He said my brain is a bit too-” her eyes became alit with a maddening fire, “too confusing .”

“When does he want me to learn it by?” Adrian swallowed, feeling anxiety rise in his throat and buzz nauseatingly in his stomach, “How much time do I have?”

“Summer?” She asked, tilting her head as she squinted into nothing, “Summer I think?”

“That’s not long,” Adrian whispered, hand spasming into a tight fist. Bellatrix acted like the information wasn’t new, she could have given him more time. She could have told him.

He almost saw a filter slide over his eyes, something dark and shrouding his vision. He looked at Bella, so intimately cold at her, and with a crack of one knuckle she was suddenly trapped in the chaotic mingling of screams and laughter.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner.” Adrian bit out, somewhere between hysteria and raw  fury. “You could have given me more time.”

He released her, the pressure vanishing as the hands pushing on his skull released their grip. She went lack on the ground, still laughing although they only sounded winded.

“Because,” her voice bubbled between still twitching lips, “It’s funny when you do this.”

“You think it’s funny?” Adrian asked, voice strikingly cold; he twisted his head, trying to get something in his neck to crack on the one side while it refused to do so.

He pressed on her, feeling something in his chest tighten as her breath refused to come to him. She spasmed on the ground, unable to laugh with the air being pulled from her very lungs.

“You’ve placed me in a poor situation, Lestrange.” Adrian’s voice was ice, “ Not again.”

He released her, and walked away.

Christmas Day Adrian spent with Lutain nestled on a stack of warm towels, and Hedwig perched in the branches of an obnoxiously large tree in the drawing room.

Rodolphus and Rabastan were gone often the days leading up to the holiday, apparently on missions to recruit or blackmail wizards. Christmas day they were battered with broken bones and blackened eyes, all in various states of healing.

“Let’s ignore that,” Bellatrix huffed, instead sliding a hazardous wrapped box over towards Adrian. “Open it!”

Adrian did so, pulling on the tape to loosen the paper. It was a crate, and inside that was a single key.

He held it up questioningly, to which Bellatrix elaborated that it was a key to her childhood home. She didn’t understand Adrian’s compulsion or longing with every book within sight, but could recognize the vast collection of books and scrolls that belonged to the family of Black held valuable wealth.

Rodolphus gifted him a journal, one thick and black Adrian immediately designated to keep track of all the deals that had transacted. Rodulphus also gave him various objects that although showed an effort, it didn’t show that he knew Adrian very well. Socks, a pair of new boots, treats for Hedwig and a potion for Lutain to aid during sheds. Rabastan went slightly further, giving him an inkwell fashioned from some sort of magical creature’s claw, and a collection of potions in small vials; most were likely questionable in content.

There was another gift, in a small box with silvery embossed paper. Once Adrian was able to see it closer, the embossing was actually a delicate peacock feather pattern.

“The Malfoy’s?” Adrian asked, glancing at Bella who shrugged and looked at the paper.

Adrian pulled it open, lifting the black lid off until he spotted the shimmering black fabric.

He pulled it out carefully, the material feeling almost like silk yet it likely was much stronger.

“Why would Malfoy’s gift me something?”

He lifted the entire mass from the box, freezing when he deciphered spidery handwriting at the very bottom.

‘You will show your worth.’

It wasn’t signed, and it didn’t need to be.

He pulled the cloth out and unfolded it, it was a cloak. The trimmings were in silver with ivory clasps akin to Death Eater masks. The tail of the cloak was in tatters, select strands touching the floor while other ratty tears only met his calf. The material was silky and chillingly cold compared to the rest of the cloak.

“Adrian,” Bellatrix spoke, voice low as she leant in to be heard, “The Dark Lord has named you as his heir,” Her lips nearly touched his ear, “ Cerastes.”

Like a viper rearing to strike, Adrian felt the thick coils of something under his skin tightening in tension.

He was out of time after all.

Chapter Text

Draco kept his word as well as the gift Adrian sent him. Adrian was rather amused with the large collections of Honeydukes chocolate courtesy of Pansy. Blaise sent a large spiraling branch from a corkwood tree (Lutain said that the aroma was positively divine). Draco gifted him an impressively thick book on advanced spellwork which was interesting, but paled to the one of a kind collection of dark spells from the Nott library itself. Hopefully each of his classmates appreciated the gilded quills he sent.

Bellatrix kept true to her word and apparated the two into the Black Family household. Something about the house felt bizarrely comforting, something deep in the inch thick dust and grime or in the cracked leather covers of ancient tomes. They left after many hours, Bellatrix apparating back and forth twice to accommodate trunks filled with handpicked books from the ceiling-tall shelves.

Returning to Hogwarts was enjoyable, although it meant he could only indulge the reading of two of his new books. Thankfully, both subjects were on Occlumency, which now was at the forefront of his mind.

The concept of Occlumency was to create mental barriers in one's mind to prevent a user of Legilimency from finding purchase and tampering with your very thoughts or memories. It seemed like it would be a difficult skill; Adrian doubted he’d be able to learn it in such a short time.

The Slytherin common rooms were just how they left it, his room rather much the same. The only exception was Theo who plastered up posters of a quidditch team Adrian didn’t recognize.

Adrian felt that in his absence over the break, his use as an information broker had become, if not public knowledge, then widely known in the snake den. His leather journal was slowly being filled with ink, listing the names and the specifics of what deals he had made and what advantages to reap.

The rest of the year was looking to be very interesting.

“I’m sorry but if you don’t know the password--” The Fat Lady started, her tone objectionable.

“I’m aware,” Adrian interrupted, crossing his arms behind his back. “However if you could just pass a message along for me...?”

The Fat Lady floundered, looking unsure at the other whispering portraits.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to decide as the painting swung outwards. An upper year stumbled backwards into the hole, not expecting Adrian to be standing there.

“What-- who are you?” The boy stammered, before squinting at Adrian suspiciously. “Wait, are you a snake?”

“Could you please get Hermione Granger for me?” Adrian said calmly. “Or perhaps you could let me inside?”

The upper year stared at Adrian like he had sprouted deer antlers. “Er, yeah. Friends with Potter right? Thought that name sounded familiar--” He murmured under his breath, before he turned and vanished back into the Gryffindor stronghold.

Adrian counted slowly. Exhaling and reigning in his temper as slowly the painting swung outwards again. “Alright, snake. Come on in. But we’re watching you!”

Adrian gave a nod of understanding as he stepped through the high lip and stumbled into the tower. It was decorated brightly with warm colours, mostly reds and golds. A bright cheery fire and well abused velvet furniture made the tower seem similar to the inside of an antiques store in Diagon Alley.

“Adrian!” Hermione bubbled, jumping up from a couch where she had been reading on her own. “Oliver said you were here but I didn’t believe it!”

Adrian gave a polite smile and awkwardly accepted her hug, then he reached into his side bag and pulled up a slender scroll of parchment. “Miss Granger, I believe I have information for you.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up and she eagerly guided him to a couch. He handed her the scroll, watching with feigned disinterest as she read over the near biography of Nicholas Flamel.

Her jaw dropped and she ran her hands through her bushy hair. “Adrian this is-- this is amazing!” Her eyes started shining with the newfound knowledge, then she chewed anxiously on her bottom lip. “Do you-- could you find out another thing for me?”

“Likely, although it may take time.”

“Do you know how to get past a Cerberus?”

Adrian paused. “A... cerberus? Are you sure it’s not a Kerberos or a Garmr?”

Hermione blinked, utterly baffled before she chewed on her lip again. “It’s... big. Really big. It has dark fur and looks like a bull terrier? But as big as a tree!”

“No snake on its tail?” Adrian asked dryly. Hermione only looked confused. “Alright, that is a Cerberus. Cerberuses have a weakness to any sort of music. It’ll cause them to fall asleep instantly.”

Hermione jumped to her feet and wrapped Adrian in a hug once more.

“Oi! Get off her!” Adrian craned his neck, only seeing red hair before he felt someone punch his cheek.

His head snapped to the side, Hermione jumped off and began to scold whoever it was who had assaulted him. Internally Adrian began a soothing mantra, trying to reign in his aggravated emotions. A small slap was nothing; a minor healing charm could fix it once he left. He had been hurt worse than this, yet the person attached to the hand wasn’t exactly helping in the circumstances.

“Ronald! This is Adrian!” Hermione scolded.

“You never said he was a slimy git too!”

“He’s helping us!” Hermione scowled. “And you can’t just attack him like-- like--”

“Like what!”

“Like an idiot!”

“Enough!” A new voice cried out, one which led all of Adrian to hiss and coil to lash and kill --

He twisted instantly; his back hunched as he curled inwards and drew his wand. His entire visage shifted from the forcibly relaxed to something wounded and vicious.

“Talk sense in her, Skylar mate.” Ron said frowning. “She’s gone and lost it.”

“I have not! ”

“Skylar Potter.” Adrian stood, removing his hand from his face and instead held it aloft. He forced his shoulders back in a way which seemed painful, and plastered a thin lipped smile onto his face. “I’ve heard plenty of interesting things and I do enjoy...” Adrian stood from the couch and took a few steps, shaking Skylar’s baffled outstretched hand. “ Interesting things.”

Hermione huffed. “Adrian finds out information. He helped Pavarti before the holidays with that one spell for eye-bags!”

Adrian gave a small nod, confirming the information. His eyes never left the gentle hazel mixture of somewhere in between blue and Lily’s green.

“He found this.” Hermione whispered, handing over the scroll which Skylar forcibly broke Adrian’s gaze to roll open. Skylar stared a few moments, reading Adrian’s uniquely spider-like handwriting.

Ron snatched it and squinted at the uniform small print. “Did a rat write this?”

Hermione smacked his arm.

Skylar puffed up one cheek, looking lopsided as he looked over the writing more suspiciously. “You write this, mate?”

Adrian’s hands twitched with the barely restrained urge to throttle Skylar.

“Can I get you to do my potions essay?” Ron joked, although that changed to gobsmacked when Adrian gave a curt nod.

“Ronald, Adrian deals out bets, wagers,” Hermione struggled to explain. “Deals and that sort.”

“Deals?” Skylar’s expression was more critical, and with one hand he rubbed it over the edge of his jaw under his left ear. “That sounds a bit shady there, mate. Careful who you go bargaining to.”

Adrian felt the entirely understandable urge to smack the boy just as Weasley had done before. Of course Adrian knew full well that he was dealing complicated business, there Skylar Potter to criticize his work. Skylar had everything handed to him--

“I mean, I just don’t want you getting into tough business.” Skylar interrupted roguishly, “If you do, give us a shout. A friend of Hermione’s is a friend of mine.”

--Adrian had to work for everything .

“I wouldn’t mind if he gets a bit roughed up,” Weasley muttered, still loud enough for Adrian.

Weasley didn’t know pain the way Adrian had.

“If that’s all you need, Miss Granger?” Adrian clipped stiffly, taking a few steps back to slowly glare at Hermione who blushed and shook her head. “Then I’ll take my leave. Best of luck to your ventures.”

He turned and walked as quickly as he could out of the tower, the air had begun to fill and become stiflingly hot.

He wondered for the smallest moment what it would feel like to kill the famous Skylar Potter.

The rest of the year drifted by almost like a Spring mist. Everyone was caught in the mindless repetition of classes and homework, studying material over and over in the shadows of looming exams, such that one day seemed to blend into the next into the next.

The upper years were quiet, strangely so, as they vanished to wherever they went to study.

And then the exams were upon them and even Adrian found himself concentrating on his studies. His occlumency was still hopeless, but he hardly had time to worry about that now. When he wasn’t studying, he and Lutain were both pressed with lethargy.

Adrian had almost forgotten entirely about Hermione and her questions until the leaving feast was upon them, when the house cup was unfairly stolen from Slytherin and awarded to Gryffindor.

Once he’d snapped out of the lethargy that accompanied exams, Adrian had worked out that the “Golden Trio”, as the rest of the school had started to refer to the three, Skylar, his pet Weasley, and Hermione Granger, had passed the Cerberus with his aid and ventured into the spelled depths of the forbidden corridor on the third floor to retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone.

Although the prize would be marvelous, the risk surrounding it was too great. Evidently it had lured something to the castle, something which had let in the troll, attacked Snape (a couple of the upper years mumbled seeing him walking with a limp) and ventured after the fabled artefact. The trio most likely were aware of the threat and acted accordingly to stop it.

Adrian mused what misguided fool would try to sneak into the castle even with Dumbledore leaving for one day.

The Great Hall was filled with the echoing chaos of whistles and clapping. All three tables rejoiced as the green banners shifted to red with flourish. Fireworks crackled in the enchanted sky overhead, illuminating the grimaces and scowls of Adrian’s housemates. He kept his own face perfectly neutral.

Adrian met with Hermione’s breathless excited eyes over the distance. Her smile grew wider and something in her eyes were warmer as well. Ronald Weasley stated something, inaudible at that distance, which distracted the witch from Adrian’s gaze.

It didn’t matter. As far as Adrian was concerned, he had established something that would linger much longer than any fool-hearted attempts to steal a relic.

“Time to go home,” Lutain cheered, content enough to lounge alongside the gilded plates from the feast.

Adrian felt the same.

End of Year One

Chapter Text

Adrian’s Occlumency shields were pitiful at best. Due to the well shrouded secret of his very existence, he was not permitted to visit with a teacher who could fortify his own walls.

Which left his father as the only Legilimens between the Lestranges and the scarce number who were aware of his existence.

Adrian was rather uncomfortable with calling the shriveled, snakelike creature, who looked more like a mandrake root than an actual person, his father, but there was something about drawing closer to the Dark Lord... something which made his skull ache yet sent addictively soothing waves of sensation through his blood and left him dazed and slowly walking ever closer.

The Dark Lord’s residence felt purged of magic. Unlike the ancient noble house of Black, where dark magic oozed and bubbled from the peeling wallpaper, Adrian could scarcely feel its mark on the crown molding or the plastered ceiling.

He knew where his father was, something in his heartbeat drawing louder and yet somehow indiscernible whispers tickling the corners of his hearing. He opened the large door at the end of the stairwell, slipping inside blindly. Adrian paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lack of lighting. The fireplace was in use, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows and filling the room with the smell of burning pine.

The door slid shut behind him, trapping him inside.

“My Occlumency shields are not yet in place,” Adrian murmured, trying to resist the wavering uncertainty. “I assure you, my Lord, I press to better them.”

He spotted the claw like hand curl inwards from the armrest, holding daintily a bleached wand as long as Adrian’s forearm.

There was a pause in the air.

“You see that you do,” The high pitched voice triggered a ringing buzz in Adrian’s head. “What did you address me?”

Adrian stumbled. “I- I apologize, father, It will not-“

“Crucio.”

His head screeched and his very nerves were alight with fire. It was a baffling sensation, through the agony of pain!pain!pain! the very sense of touch had been distorted and perverted until all that existed was the raging inferno. The smoldering burn which echoed the laughter of Suzie and the thrashing of David’s death throes.

For some illogical reason through the suffocating hell, he envisioned a single sparrow fluttering to the ground with venom in its blood.

He felt the curse release instantaneously. Blood was burning in his veins but he could feel it warm down his arms and legs, filling his fingers and toes which were contorted and cramping.

He was laying on the ground, the cloak covering his still twitching body. His throat was hoarse and raw, blood sliding down from where his tongue had been bitten through. Snot and tears made his face sticky and damp.

He gasped, the sound was humiliating yet he couldn’t prevent it. He breathed heavily, on the verge of sobbing as each joint and socket moaned out in its of suffering. It took him too long to rise to his knees, longer still to manage a crawling position.

“Come here.”

Adrian didn’t dare resist. He dragged himself over the floor slowly, collapsing at one point, his limbs leaden and his fingers trembling violently. He kept moving, forcing himself to crawl, until he reached the large chair and the skeletal homunculus sitting with its talon-edged feet just above Adrian.

Adrian whimpered, his eyesight blurring at the sides, his eyelids drooping before his sluggish thoughts could force them open again. A clawed hand touched Adrian’s head and he whimpered again, shaking and forcing himself not to flinch away.

It continued, Adrian couldn’t stop the tears from cascading or the pathetic sounds from escaping his throat.

“I expect you to do better,” the homunculus said, continuing with its mockery of human affection. “You know what happens if I am…displeased.”

“Yes father,” Adrian whimpered, eyes sliding shut once again.

It continued for a while. His father spoke a few times, stating spells that Adrian evidently would have to master the next time he came in, or at least have Bella teach him.

There was a strange part of Adrian that always seemed to intuitively know what his father was feeling. It was alarming to suspect his father was content with running his claws through Adrian’s hair. Even more so to suspect his father would miss his company.

It was after all, just a speculation.

Rabastan pulled out vials and began checking the labels on the side, he returned it and continued on when not finding the desired potion.

Adrian was back at the Lestrage household, sitting pathetically on a corner of a long cracked leather couch in the main sitting room. Rodulphus was arguing with his wife, who was too perplexed to quite understand the situation.

“I never had any potions!” Bellatrix argued, “The boy doesn’t need any!”

“Because you certainly ended up sane from cruciatus curses.” Rodulphus argued, splaying out one hand towards Adrian, “He’s eleven!”

“So!”

“He’ll result in nerve damage or almost as crazy as you!”

Bellatrix huffed, casting an eye at the curled form of Adrian, who wasn’t entirely lucid.

Lutain was curled protectively nearby, watching his master with unease.

Adrian himself looked wretched, his skin was pale and nearly see through in areas where it was naturally thinner. His eyes were glazed, large patches of red from where capillaries had burst on his cornea. His lips were stained red where blood still oozed down his chin, and throughout all of that his legs and arms still flailed uncontrollably from the muscle contractions and further spasms.

Rabastan finally found the proper potion and pulled it out; Adrian’s eyes flickered to it. The younger reached upwards, trying to grasp the vial yet the violent trembling of his fingers left any coordination impossible.

“None of that,” Rabastan grunted, grabbing Adrian’s jaw and pushing the vial between bloody lips, “The bugger bit his tongue too.”

“I can heal it!” Bellatrix chirped, only for Rodulphus to argue, “You’ll fuse his tongue to his mouth!”

Adrian let out a low keening noise, which Lutain tensed to hear.

“I still don’t get why it’s such a big deal,” Bellatrix huffed, “He’s gotten the curse before-“

Adrian violently turned, arching backwards and twisting. He managed eventually, his pained actions ordering silence from the three caregivers in the room. Once his back was facing outwards, and his eyes closed against the back of the couch, the three left the room.

“I will protect you, master.” Lutain swore, poking and prodding Adrian’s back with his blunt snout.

He felt comfort in the title, somehow finding satisfaction and stability in the fact that if he was unable to decide his own fate, he at least held power over something.

The spell, it was damnation. It was power.

Something from the events from earlier didn’t seem to exactly line up. From his understanding, his father held servants under the curse for much longer than Adrian. Multiple castings were common, Bellatrix had confessed the first time Adrian had experienced the spell, that she once had upwards of six individual castings in a single meeting.

Adrian had blatantly failed his orders for accomplishing Occlumancy, yet he had only one significantly short curse.

Perhaps his father was trying to teach him something after all.

He had received letters from Theo alongside Draco, although he suspected the latter was just formalities. Theo’s letter had been lengthy, highly speculative about the new Defense Against the Dark Art’s teacher.

Adrian had immediately looked into the matter, reading only two of the assigned books (which were in fact Gilderoy Lockhart’s complete collection) before summarizing that it was all gargoyle rubbish.

There were clear contradictions in the stories, along with simple facts that were impossible due to the time frame of events in the other books. He had pointed out the flaws to Bellatrix, who sniffed once and reduced his book to purple smoke. It even smelt pompous and extravagant.

The destruction of one of his required books meant that he was now forced to purchase another copy, which Bellatrix relented and agreed to pay for herself.

Another matter had come up, something which led to a certain amount of dread as Adrian followed closely behind Bella through the streets of Knockturn.

With Adrian’s naming, Bellatrix had explained that it was now implied that he must be marked. Not a Dark Mark, which would be too obvious, but something relatively similar.

Nagini was a gorgeous snake, her patterns and her scales were dazzling and according to Lutain, her shed was always smooth. It didn’t surprise Adrian when Bellatrix informed him that Nagini herself would be plastered under the surface of his skin.

Bellatrix admitted that she was not familiar with any sort of permanent marking or inking spells, which led them to pushing through the streets of Knockturn to the well-known parlor Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos. Adrian wasn’t excited, and with a false cool exterior he entered the store after Bellatrix.

It was ramshack like almost all of Knockturn, the floorboards had thin gaps between them, everything else was aged slightly grey. The man behind the counter looked at them, he had a series of porcupine quills protruding from his scalp instead of hair.

“Well well,” The man spoke, his voice deceptively hoarse, “If it isn’t Mrs. Lestrange herself.”

Bellatrix flashed a somewhat crazy grin and pushed Adrian forward, “You’re going to mark this boy, and with the spelled ink.”

The porcupine blinked, “Ain’e a bit young?”

Bellatrix beamed, “Nope!”

The man shrugged and walked out from around his counter, looking at Adrian with a critical eye, “Wha’ kind of spell again?”

“The portrait spell, and enchantments for movements and physical interaction.” Bellatrix rattled off, causing the man to lift one eyebrow- thankfully with actual hair.

“Painting you a pretty lady, eh?” The porcupine winked, eying up Adrian with a lewd grin.

“A snake,” Adrian deadpanned, eyes glinting sharply, “Like her arm.”

The man paused, looking seriously at Bellatrix who now was twirling her wand, “Get out.”

“Oh don’t be daft,” Bellatrix huffed, walking over to sit harshly on a three legged stool near an archaic looking tattoo chair, “He’s not actually getting it. He just wants a snake like it. I can provide memory reference,” She tailed off, watching as the porcupine man gulped and eyed Bellatrix’s wand carefully.

“Come here, boy,” The man grunted, yanking Adrian over to the archaic chair, “Ruddy well get it over with.”

Bellatrix hummed, pressing her wand to her skull and pulling out a thin strand of something from her temple. Adrian watched in fascination as the man pulled out a single needle apparatus with an open vial at the top. The silvery liquid slid into the needle, and the porcupine tapped the side.

“Right,” He coughed, “How big?”

Bellatrix grinned and held her fingers two inches apart, “This is it’s head.”

The man’s eyes bulged, gasping and staring at Adrian who already was silently removing his shirt.

“Are you bonkers! The boy is a birch tree!” Porcupine argued, “It’d be as long as his leg!”

“That’s why you’re going to give it a physical interaction and movement!” Bellatrix snapped, pointing the wand at the man.

The man gulped, and slowly casted something under his breath on the hollow needle. He casted a few more spells, continuing until the very tip of the metal changed to the silver colour itself.

Without any other words, he leant forward and pressed it into Adrian’s skin.

It hurt, only like an annoying tingle under his skin. It spread from the needle point, glowing silver across his chest and over one shoulder, looping low and across his ribs before its tail continued down his thigh out of sight.

It slowly faded, and from the fading scales began to rise, pressing outwards and filling like Nagini herself was rising from his bones. It blinked awake, flickering its tongue and peering outwards attentively towards Bellatrix.

“There,” The Porcupine swallowed, shifting and pulling out a shrunken canvas. He enlarged it, before pressing the needle against the fabric and tinting the material black. “And here’s your portrait.”

Bellatrix accepted the canvas, and looked at Adrian expectantly.

Adrian looked down at his chest where Nagini was slithering up and investigating his collarbone, “Nagini, go to the picture.”  

The porcupine man gasped and spluttered in growing horror. The snake turned, looking as if it was somehow going underwater. Its picture warped and gradually vanished, until its tail slid inside the ripple and it was entirely gone from Adrian’s skin.

It slithered into view in the portrait, peering around once more, and giving a loud hiss towards Porcupine.

Bellatrix smiled, and Adrian quietly slid his shirt back on.

“Thank you!” Bellatrix chimed, jumping upright without offering any sort of payment to the man, Adrian didn’t think that he would expect it anyways.

Once outside, Bellatrix passed him a few galleons, more than enough to replace the one book, and apparated him to the entrance of Diagon Alley.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Bellatrix waved, before she vanished from sight with a jarring crack.

Adrian stepped into the crowded streets, finding the situation very similar to last year. He wished that he had brought Lutain, but his familiar had eaten a rather large breakfast and was unable to move quickly for the rest of the day.

He moved towards the bookstore, almost immediately feeling that something was wrong with the building.

It was unsettling, he leant to the side, one hand holding him balanced as he stared off and tried to pinpoint what it was that was making him so uneasy.

“Adrian!”

Adrian snapped his head around, looking at the rather baffled but uncomfortably smiling face of Hermione.

Adrian started over towards her, not quite comprehending still the situation.

“Pleasure seeing you once more,” Adrian nodded, looking over her shoulder to see why she was so anxious-

-right as a younger girl’s cauldron flew across the floor and an elder red haired man tackled Lucius Malfoy into a bookshelf.

Dozens of heavy spell books came falling down on their heads; there was a collective yell of, “Get him, Dad!” from two twins Adrian’s elders; assumedly his wife shrieking, “No, Arthur, no!”; the crowd stampeded backwards and knocked more shelves to the ground.

“Break it up, here, gents, break it up-“

Now it was a large man, Hogwart’s Groundkeeper if Adrian recalled correctly, waded inwards through the sea of collapsed books and in an instant, managed to pull Lucius Malfoy and who he assumed as Mr. Weasley, apart.

Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Lucius was starting to develop a dark spot on his forehead.

He was still holding a Transfiguration book; he thrust it out at the younger red haired girl and spat “Here, girl- take your book- it’s the best your father can give you-“

He turned and with as much dignity as he could spare he beckoned for Draco, who was rather humiliated as default, and they left the shop.

“Yeh should’ve ignored him, Arthur,” The gamekeeper grumbled, shaking his head morosely, “Rotten ter the core, the whole family, every-one knows that- no Malfoy’s worth listenin’ ter- bad blood, that’s what it is- slimy Slytherins ter all-“

Adrian cleared his throat, drawing attention from the gamekeeper who looked curious.

Hermione gasped in alarm and flushed quickly, “I’m sure Hagrid didn’t mean that, Adrian! Not all Slytherins are bad! I mean, you-“ She cut off quickly, thoroughly embarrassed.

“You’re that Slytherin-“

“-the broker-“

“-can you give us a deal?” The two twins spun, looking at Adrian interestedly, while their mother scolded them loudly.

“Possibly,” Adrian started slowly, “Although terms will have to be set later.”

The two twins beamed and grinned wickedly. Adrian gave a polite smile and looked back at Hermione who was comforting two adults who looked rather spooked.

“Adrian! These are my parents!” She hurried to introduce, “They’re new to this magic thing!”

“Muggles?” Adrian tested, trying not to wince or think on all experiences he’d suffered due to muggles, “A pleasure to meet you.”

They smiled and thanked him, exchanging utter nonsense with him before the group realized they were to meet someone else outside of Gringotts.

They hurried out, filing around and the manager of the store looked like he wanted to stop them. It was thoroughly amusing.

“Do I know yeh?” Hagrid suddenly rumbled, squinting down at Adrian with a confused expression.

“I don’t think so,” Adrian blinked, “Was the Cerberus from last year yours? I heard he had a beautiful pelt.”

The man’s face lit up instantly and he seemed embarrassed, “Yeh, Fluffy jus’ ‘ad a couple Hornworms e’ery week!”

Adrian nodded, “Wonderful to hear that your Cerberus was well taken care of. I have a familiar, he’s fairly picky with his food, do you perhaps have a good supply of mice or rats? The ones from Diagon over Owl Delivery are sometimes,” Adrian grimaced, “Picked over.”

Hagrid nodded solemnly, “Aye, ruddy job they do, ‘ead down to my ‘ut and we’ll talk!” He beamed and waded out of the store through the books.

Arian paused- the strange sensation had vanished.

And he still needed the replacement book Bella destroyed

Chapter Text

Summer vanished all too quickly. The last month of the summer hols was quickly disappearing with daily duels with Bella, studies to increase his spell vocabulary, as well as hours each day to improve his occlumency.

His occlumency was progressing at a steady rate. The concept of Occlumency on its own was difficult, however when he focused on it alongside using the liquid magic in his blood, it created a thin layer, an almost electric barrier around his thoughts. Building that first wall was the most difficult, but now he had to construct enough to prevent a full mental assault.

The added benefit of managing to clear his mind was that it was the first step of achieving his Animagus form. He hadn’t the time to actually brew the potion, although given Rabastan’s strange sources he could likely obtain the potion for a hefty sum.

The Nagini tattoo wriggled under his flesh, it was a surreal sensation since he could feel each of the muscles tensing and flexing under the muscle of his back. He sometimes watched in a mirror as the skin seemed to split open and the snake slid out of the ‘hole’. It would do laps around the length of his body, down one leg before backtracking up and around his neck and shoulders, then it would sink below the skin again; he could feel it moving inside his wrist.

At last it was time to return to Hogwarts. Hedwig screeched and glared with her falcon eyes as Adrian crammed her into a small cage and strapped the cage to a trolley, available just outside the floo point.

The Hogwarts Express loomed large. Billowing clouds of white steam covered the platform. There was a tension in the air, a mixture of anxious shouts and excited squeals of students both eager and not to return to school.

Since Adrian couldn’t take a compartment for himself, he instead took a seat next to a now fourth year Slytherin. He had helped this boy the year before with charming an owl into sunshine yellow.

They didn’t speak to each other, except once the other Slytherin left due to the urging of a Ravenclaw girl. The compartment slid shut and Adrian relaxed.

“You can come out now, Lutain.” Adrian smiled, watching as his familiar slid out of a notch in the side of his trunk. Lutain had grown over the summer, filling out into what was likely his full length. Lutain was long, but thin, having a sinuous and lithe body.

“Was there someone here?” Lutain asked, scenting the air near where the other boy had sat.

“Only a student and he’s gone,” Adrian assured, smiling at his familiar who yawned wide.

“I had a warm nap. Very nice, very warm,” Lutain emphasized, looking directly at Adrian, “You could always make me warm.”

“But then you wouldn’t hang around my neck like a living scarf,” Adrian teased. Lutain gave a low guttural hiss, something similar to a snort.

“ Master I am scales not creature-skins .”

“ Actually I’m wearing cotton, which Is a plant .”

Lutain flicked his tongue closer, tasting the edge of his robe which neared the snake’s body. “I do not like vegetables .”

Adrian failed to stifle a rather unappealing snort, although Lutain seemed very pleased with himself.

The compartment door clicked loudly in warning before sliding open. Adrian looked up at the same red haired girl who he had seen in the bookstore.

“Oh, sorry.” She blinked and looking close to tears. “I was-- sorry--“

“It’s no problem,” Adrian soothed, gesturing for her to come inside. “You’re upset. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She sniffed and balled her hands into little fists, her eyes were filled with determination as she pushed her hair behind one ear. “I-- I can’t find my brother and, and we were running late--“

“Your brother, he’s a Weasley?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah, my name is Ginny.” She hesitated a beat, almost unnoticeably. “You were at the Flourish and Blotts?”

Adrian nodded. “Hermione and I have made a few deals, nothing to concern yourself over. Which brother is this?”

“Ron,” she explained, “And, and Skylar Potter.”

Adrian tried very carefully to not have his face twitch.

Ginny also took the moment to scream as she noticed Lutain, weaving between Adrian’s feet. She yanked herself backwards on the seat, pulling her knees to her chest in alarm.

“That’s Lutain,” Adrian introduced. “He’s my familiar, he won’t hurt you. He’s very docile.”

Lutain, now proficient with verbal English obliged and coiled non threateningly around Adrian’s leg.

“Now, Skylar Potter is very important, so nothing bad will happen to him and your brother.” Adrian assured. “You can stay here with me if you like?”

Ginny shook her head. “Thank you, but I have a seat with Hermione--“

Adrian nodded and absentmindedly reached out with the magic in his blood, bored for now. He tensed when he felt the same abnormality as he felt in the book shop, which meant that--

“Do you have something in your pocket?”

His voice must have changed, because Ginny instantly looked suspicious and alarmed. Her hand flew to her front right pocket, her hand folding over against the rough shape of--

Well, it was hardly unexpected that she had a book with her. She was just a scared firstie. She probably had a copy of Hogwarts: A History in her robe. That was hardly unique to her. Adrien remembered overhearing Hermione mentioning random facts from the book prior to their own Sorting last year.

“Never mind,” Adrian said. He offered her a smile. “I was thinking of something else. Best of luck to yourself and your brother.”

Ginny nodded and scampered away rather quickly.

The strange cooing sensation lingered a bit longer before it too faded.

Adrian didn’t see Ronald Weasley or Skylar Potter at the Welcome Feast that night. He did however hear the most baffling story of a flying car. The next morning that story was confirmed true, in the form of a bright red Howler.

A roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling which thankfully did not land in any food and for a minute it was so loud that Adrian couldn’t pick out any actual words.

“--Stealing the car, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d expelled you, you wait until I get a hold of you, I don’t suppose you stopped to think what your father and I went through when we saw it was gone--“

Mrs. Weasley’s voice seemed to be amplified many times over until the shrill woman could rattle the spoons and glasses of milk and pumpkin juice on the tables.

Adrian smiled and buttered his toast.

“--Letter from Dumbledore last night, I thought your father would die of shame, we didn’t bring you up to behave like this, you and Skylar could have died--“

Adrian almost laughed when he spotted Skylar slink lower in his seat. Draco let out a barely audible laugh.

“--Absolutely disgusted! Your father's now facing an inquiry at work and it's entirely your fault! If you put another toe out of line we’ll bring you straight back home!”

There was a loud ringing silence as the last word echoed off the stone walls. Then the howler burst into flames and curled into small ashes which landed in Ron’s porridge.

Adrian gently clicked his spoon against a glass cup, the sound loud and triggering a collection of snickers up and down the table.

“What if Master’s father sent such loud paper?” Lutain hissed, thoroughly amused although not looking to have understood everything in the Howler.

Adrian tried very hard not to think about it, but ultimately fell into snickers. He threw an apple at Draco whose jaw had dropped, having witnessed such a strange sight.

Transfiguration classes consisted of transforming a beetle into a button. Adrian waited patiently and timed his well, only when Daphne, the resident expert in transfiguration, managed to complete the change, did Adrian allow himself to do the same.

He had already been changing paper scraps into rats.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was indescribable.

Adrian was in utter shock when their new teacher, Lockhart, handed out a lengthy test filled with questions ranging from the most self-absorbed information ( What Is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite food?) to downright ridiculous.

Then, to top the class, the man had launched into a speech about how he was prepared to reveal to them their deepest darkest fears within the walls of the classroom.

Millicent was shaking with laughter by the time he was done.

“Behold!” He shouted dramatically. With a flourish, pulling a sparkling blue cloth from a large cage. “Cornish Pixies!”

Draco arched his eyebrow. “Pixies, sir?”

Lockhart nodded solemnly, not understanding the expressions of disbelief on Crabbe and Goyle’s face and misinterpreted it as fear.

“Yes, Cornish Pixies, a truly heartless creature.” He dramatically inhaled. “Let’s see how you fare!”

Adrian scrambled to his feet as the small vicious blue creatures flew out in dizzying speeds. Lutain perked up, hissing and jerking his head wildly as too many creatures buzzed by for him to understand the heat signatures.

“Don’t bite,” Adrian bit out, snatching his wand and pointing it into the swarm. “Incendio.”

He could have done it silently or wandlessly, but he didn’t want to reveal his abilities with the media hound that was their new teacher.

A pixie let out a garbled cry as its wings burnt up and it landed on the floor. Millicent jumped over a desk and stomped the creature like a bug.

Draco used a freezing charm to get three of the pixies in the air at once. The creatures were moving in slow motion, Daphne easily snatched them and shoved them back in the cage.

“That’s it!” Lockhart shouted eagerly, not taking a single step to actually help them. “Just like that! I’d do it myself, but--“ He let out a loud chuckle, which grated on Adrian’s nerves.

“Git,” Theo grunted, ducking nearby under a desk as one pixie snatched an inkwell and flung it his direction. “He wouldn’t know a single spell I bet!”

“String him up like lights,” Lutain hissed eagerly, spitting and hissing loudly enough to prevent pixies from getting too close to Adrian.

Adrian smiled and stared at Lockhart, focusing and exhaling slowly as his blood sang. Lockhart cried out suddenly as he was yanked upwards by invisible hands; he swung from the chandelier.

Adrian sent another pixie on fire. Theo and Blaise followed his example, lighting the small creature until the room was filled with gibberish shouting fireballs.

The clock struck, signaling the end of class. The Slytherins made a calculated retreat from the room, leaving Lockhart shouting for help with the assault of the remaining pixies.

If one of them accidentally lit him on fire, it certainly wasn’t Adrian’s fault.

Draco had boasted rather readily that his father had funded the Slytherin House team, supplying the team with new brooms for the upcoming Quidditch season.

Adrian himself hadn’t flown on a broom since he was young, very young in fact, and had no desire to do so again.

Draco had been pleased that he had been awarded the position of Seeker on the Slytherin team by Marcus Flint.  Not only that, he had Pansy check out the Gryffindor Quidditch post times and gotten a signed letter from Snape, giving the team permission to take the field directly during Gryffindor practice times.

Adrian had looked at Draco flatly as the blond fool told Adrian of the plans. Draco had, after all, waved goodbye to the element of surprise the new brooms would’ve afforded them. In a dry voice, Adrian had asked, “Aren’t you taking this rivalry too far?”

“It’s never too far!”

They had returned after the practice, everyone much too pleased with themselves for just kicking off Gryffindor.

“What happened?” Theo asked eagerly, obviously sensing something different in the air.

“Weasley spelled himself!” Draco laughed. “You should have seen it! The idiot was belching slugs!”

Adrian looked at Draco in amazement. “ Weasley? As in, Ronald Weasley?” Draco nodded, snickering. “Considering he’s already on a tight leash, what in Merlin’s name did you say to get him that angry?”

Draco’s expression darkened. “The Granger girl said I bought my way onto the team!” Draco bit sharply. “I told her that she’s a filthy mudblood and--“

Adrian raised a hand, “You called her a mudblood?”

Theo let out a low whistle.

“Draco,” Adrian tried not to laugh. “I think Granger may call in a deal if she’s that upset. Or maybe Weasley--“

“He’s poor!” Draco squawked.

“You know I don’t only deal in gold.”

Adrian’s grin was spreading. Draco scowled and stood up and stomped to his room, leaving Theo staring at Adrian in speculation. “You would curse him, wouldn’t you?”

Adrian shrugged. “Someone needs to show him his place.”

Against Adrian’s expectations, neither of the two approached him. So instead he focused on his Occlumency shields; the four walls of defense were still developing but he was getting there.

The animagus potion was the true thing that had drawn his attention. To Owl Order it pre-made from Knockturn Alley was seven galleons, but he only had four to spare since business had been rather slow.  He was walking in populated areas to get to class, hopeful that his presence would give someone the motivation to address him but nobody came his way and it was infuriating.

Adrian spent some time on the covered bridge after sunset. It was getting colder once again signaling winter was well on it’s way. It was also a good place to clear his mind and reign in emotional control behind the barriers he was creating.

He hadn’t found the strange sensation around Ginny. It had mysteriously vanished. He still had no idea what it was that could affect him so strongly yet no other, but it was almost always on his constant mind.

Lutain shivered under his robe, tightening against the cold.

“Let’s go inside,” Adrian sighed, turning and leaving the darkness of the covered bridge for the safety of the castle.

He was passing nearby the classrooms when he heard something strange, something whispery but foreign.

“Master?” Lutain hissed, poking his head out and scenting the air quickly. “Master there is something big.”

“What?” Adrian mumbled, walking closer to the wall and listening harder. “What is it?”

“ I don’t know- -“

“ Come…Come to me …”

Adrian flinched, head jerking back from the stone wall. His hands fluttered over the stone, trying to figure out where the old feminine voice was coming from. Lutain was scenting wildly; he too could not figure it out.

“… Let me rip you …”

“Where is it?” Adrian mumbled, eyes flickering over the shadows the torches casted. Was it a python? It sounded as big as Nagini for sure.

“… Let me tear you …”

Adrian glanced up and down the hallway, there wasn’t anyone actually approaching.

“Serpent!” Adrian hissed as loudly as he dared, still trying to figure out how this creature was managing to avoid him so adeptly. “Answer my call!”

“… Let me kill you …”

The voice was faint. It trailed off and the hallway felt suddenly much colder than it had been before.

Adrian waited, sinking to the ground in disbelief and staring at the wall in front of him. He felt a vague sense of loss-- he was confident that whatever it was would yield to him. Did it not hear him?

“ Master, I do not scent it .” Lutain flickered his tongue uneasy. “ Only wet earth .”

Adrian leant forward, pressing his forehead against the stone just shy of a torch sconce.

What was that?

Click Here to see the fanart I hastily drew for the Second Year, featuring Adrian and the basilisk. (The fanart is more applicable for the later years of Hogwarts)

Chapter Text

October drew nearer and the dampness around the Slytherin dungeons seemed ever more present. Even within the common room, with the sight of the great lake above them, the humidity and condensation seemed that much more present. The hissing green hearth-fires couldn’t quite stave off the bite of the chill, made all the worse by the tiny collections of icicles adhered to the edges of the enchanted ceiling.

Madam Pomfrey began handing out potions to any student who succumbed to a chill or cold. The elder Slytherin’s able to brew the potions themselves rented out the NEWT potions lab to brew them in mass production. Soon the entire common room was a fair trade of billowing steam from student’s ears and the sharp spice of pepper.

The most interesting commotion in Adrian’s venture to find the hissing voice was nearly being crushed by Peeves, the resident Poltergeist, who managed to drop a large cabinet and smash it just short of crushing students.

Lutain took to late night treks across the castle in search for the voice, allowing Adrian to stay up late into the night practicing his Occlumency, in which he was becoming quite proficient. His new night owl status caused Theo to become desperate-- he had resorted to conjuring bluebirds to wake him for classes.

The others discovered that Adrian’s dark hair, almost blue hued in the light, sported a massive bed head when he didn’t have time for vanity. A cowlick large enough for a crow to roost on.

The Halloween feast came around and once more the tall thestrals stood guard over the pumpkins, nearly the size of a garden shed. Lockhart seemed oblivious to the creatures and instead told an exaggerated story with a large turkey drumstick as a prop. The skeletal creatures watched the meat hungrily and followed it with their heads. It seemed odd that a man who had experienced so much, had yet to witness death firsthand.

Pansy noticed that the entire golden trio seemed to be missing from the table, something she announced loudly for everyone to hear.

The others were quickly distracted by the Weasley Twin’s contest of how many pumpkin pasties they could stuff into their mouth at one time.

“Disgusting,” Draco grunted, sipping his grape juice with exaggerated daintiness to emphasise that at least he had class. The obvious reference to sipping Pureblood chilled wine was quickly abandoned in favor of the spiced pumpkin juice.

The feast ended with a loud choir formed of enchanted jack-o-lanterns, with bats billowing out from the orange faces to fly tornados above the student’s heads. Theatrics were always pleasant; it reminded Adrian of the time Bellatrix had a bat become entangled in her wild hair.

The students filed out once the last of the entertainment ended. With the low rumble of hundreds of footsteps on stone and the hubbub of voices echoing off the hallway, they walked in small groups through the halls. Theo was entertaining the group of Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Adrian himself with a tale of when his owl retrieved a real vampire bat and left it in his bedroom.

With little warning or little logic, the hoard suddenly stopped and grew quiet. Draco frowned and started to jump, attempting to see up over the heads of taller students and find out why the crowd had stopped and was now dead quiet.

Adrian sighed and spotted a nearby stocky Slytherin; the boy in question cleared a path and allowed the group to squeeze between tightly packed bodies.

There was blood on the wall. Glittering and shimmering in the haunted lighting. It had been written-- arced sloppily into bold letters--

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware.

Adrian felt his jaw slacking. To make the scene even more perplexing, a stiffened cat hung from a torch bracket, maybe somewhere in the state of rigor mortis. It certainly looked dead to Adrian.

All of this was behind the Golden Trio.

At least everyone knew where they had been during the feast. Practicing dark arts or necromantic sacrifices? Adrian had to give them credit, he didn’t think they had it in them.

“Enemies of the Heir, beware!” Draco suddenly shouted, breaking the shocked silence that had fallen over the students. Malfoy’s voice seemed that much louder because no-one else had dared make a sound. “You’ll be next, mudbloods!”

Adrian shot his head around to stare at Draco in unrestrained shock, was the boy a complete idiot? Malfoy’s complexion was fixed with a rosy flush, his face split with an excited grin as he eyed the cat.

The Chamber of Secrets?

What was happening?

“What’s going on here!” A loud angry voice shouted as the unmistakably voice and body of Filch shoved his way through the crowd. He spotted the cat and he stumbled backwards; his hands curled inwards to his chest and trembled in dismay. “My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris!” He shrieked, and his eyes fell on the very guilty sight of Skylar Potter.

The cat was Filch’s? Adrian hadn’t ever spent time with the man, normally only Gryffindors were granted his company.

“You!” He screeched, hand pointing threateningly at the horrified Chosen One. “You! You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll--“

“Oh please,” Pansy snickered under her breath. “I’d love to watch that fight.”

“Argus!” Dumbledore had appeared, followed by a number of teachers who split the crowd to press against each wall of the passageway. “Come with me, Argus, and you Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger.”

Draco grinned as the four turned to walk away, only for Lockhart to stumble into the way with his bright velvet robes in an unsettling tone of pumpkin orange.

“My office is nearest, Headmaster-- just upstairs-- please feel free--“

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” Dumbledore nodded and the entourage mournfully walked away, Filch clutching his stiffened cat in his arms.

“Two galleons that Granger did it,” one slytherin piped up with a grin. “Those puffskeins don’t know a spell to stun a butterfly.”

“You think a mudblood would write that?” One asked in disgust. “You’re denser than the Weasley if you think that.”

“Oi! It would be a good cover! Nobody would suspect her!” The first boy defended.

The sudden interchanging of hushed suspicions and rumours filled the passageway with the susurrus of many voices. By the time the mob had diverged into specified houses, dozens of ideas and rumours were circulating.

The “attack” seemed to rattle everyone in the castle, even Slytherins grew wary of the other houses. Students and Prefects started approaching Adrian almost constantly, asking him for information about the attack. Most students wanted some sort of spell or object that would keep them safe from this invisible attacker.

Adrian also hadn’t seen Hermione around the castle, which was strange considering she would most likely seek him out to find out what she didn’t know. She had disappeared almost completely. Speaking to her house was useless; no Gryffindors were willing to talk with a Slytherin with tensions running so high.

The school in itself seemed to be avoiding Skylar. Whispers were being exchanged rapidly with no control or intended target.

‘He’s been trained by Dumbledore since he was very young..’

‘He vanquished You-Know-Who, maybe like this-‘

‘Better stay away from him-‘

‘He’ll be after you next-’

Adrian found most of the ideas hilarious. The mental image of Skylar Potter trying to avoid Bellatrix’s playdates nearly left him hysterical.

After cashing in two deals, one with the Pavarti Gryffindor girl, Adrian finally found Hermione. Granted, she approached him outright, which made the two deals he cashed in entirely useless much to his own irritation.

Adrian hadn’t know that it was common knowledge that he liked to watch the sunset when able from the northernmost covered bridge. A guilty pleasure, he supposed.

“Adrian,” she greeted, looking thoroughly miffed and irritated by everything around. “I need to borrow a book.”

“What a pleasant night it is,” Adrian started,completely ignoring her request and rudeness. “What a wonderful sunset; all of those colours remind me of Lockhart’s terrible wardrobe--“

“Do you have Hogwarts: A History?” She asked, lacking the concept of subtlety. She must have been desperate if she was asking for a book Adrian was almost positive she already owned.

Hermione approached him, crossing her arms with an impatient glance.

Adrian was taken aback by her exhaustion, she elaborated tiredly. “All of the copies have been taken out, and there’s a two-week waiting list.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring your own copy.”

She didn’t ask how he knew she owned it. “There wasn’t enough space with all of Lockhart’s books.”

Adrian snorted and Hermione whacked him on the side.

“Alright alright,” Adrian held up his hands in defense. “Why do you want that book?”

She looked surprised, “The same reason as everyone else wants it: to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets.”

Adrian blinked slowly. As much as people had been talking about it, Adrian shamefully knew next to nothing about it.  “What is it? Specifics, not rumors.”

“That’s just it, I can’t remember.” Hermione bit her lip. “And I can’t find the story anywhere else--“

Adrian lifted his hand and frowned, thinking. The Chamber of Secrets, somehow it felt familiar but he couldn’t recall--

“I’m calling in my debt,” Adrian stated, holding out his wand which Hermione tentatively took; she gasped when the flare of heat snaked up her arm, leaving it tingling.

“Don’t tell your classmates where I’m going to take you and of what happens.”

Hermione looked confused but nodded. Adrian turned on his heel, already starting to walk down the bridge back into the castle. He took the first downward staircase, already starting the trek.

They continued further and further until Hermione recognized where the troll had chased them the year before. She gasped and pointed at a specific suit of armor, dented slightly on its metallic surface. Adrian didn’t even glance in the direction.

Adrian found the small snake in the wall, eying them indifferently until  he clearly stated “Purple Heather.”

The wall started to move with the sound of stone grinding on stone, pulling back on some hidden, probably magical hinge. Adrian stepped inside the entryway, nearly leaving Hermione scrambling to follow inside. It was late enough at night that the room wasn’t too overpopulated, although the low buzz of conversations abruptly halted.

They stared at Hermione each with varying levels of distaste and outlandish surprise.

“What the--” One started, jaw dropping into an unfortunately ugly expression.

“What’s the mud--“ Draco started, springing upwards from a couch on the right with an accusing finger already pointed in their direction.

“Is Carmen in?” Adrian interrupted, rolling his shoulders and feeling one crack under the movement. “Someone find Carmen.”

One fifth year vanished up the staircase, poking her head into one room and calling for the person in question.

Adrian spoke louder. “Carmen! I’m calling in our deal!”

The room was quiet once again, a few people looking forward eagerly.

“What in Merlin’s name...” A fourth year groaned, “How did the kid get Carmen to make one of those bloody deals?”

“Reckon it was for something good? If not I’m cursing that mudblood out myself,” someone else muttered.

Hermione noticeably shrank behind Adrian, her hand shaking on her wand.

Carmen popped her head out and around the doorframe of the upstairs room. She blinked in surprise, arched one eyebrow, and looked at Hermione. “You brought a Lion?”

“Ignore her,” Adrian said. “I’ll get one of you in their common room sometime.”

One student whooped loudly at the idea of sabotaging the Gryffindors in their own home.

“You know where the common room is and you’ve been holding out on us?” Carmen pouted, then sighed. “Of course you do. Should have told us after they took our Cup last year.”

Adrian offered his wand, at this point most people knew the drill. Carmen walked down the steps, reaching out without hesitation to grasp the end.Her lip twitched slightly, signifying she felt the magic race along her arm.

“Alright kid, what do you want?” She said, crossing her arms yet thankfully not addressing the terrified Gryffindor behind him. Carmen was significantly more lenient compared to the recently graduated Vaisley.

“She’s under a deal,” Adrian pointed over his shoulder at Hermione. “And you’re the Prefect. You’re almost as much as a bookworm as her--”

There were a few mumbles of agreement, causing Carmen to flush although not in embarrassment.

Adrian lifted his chin slightly, jutting it outwards unconsciously similar to Draco. “Tell us the story of the Chamber of Secrets.”

There was a low whistle from a sixth year.

“All of them?” Carmen pouted, looking put out, “Come on, kid--”

“Do it Carmen,” One laughed. “You’re lucky more aren’t back yet.”

She grumbled something under her breath, stalking across the room to grab a chair from an unoccupied desk.

On cue, chairs and couches rotated or in one case, levitated to form a circle around the exasperated Carmen.

“You’re a real menace, you know that?” Carmen huffed, sitting backwards on her chair and resting her chin on her forearm. Adrian motioned for Daphne to slide to the side of  her couch to accommodate two more.

Hermione, still rather scared was totally absorbed in what Carmen was about to say.

“Alright fine,” she started, turning to try an address everyone. “As you all know or better know by now, Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by two witches and two wizards. The four worked together to build the castle and in honor each of the houses are named after the founders: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and our own noble house, Salazar Slytherin.”

The Slytherins broke into cheers, a startling amount of noise for roughly thirty people in the misshapen circle. The display of house pride was unexpected to Hermione, generally Slytherins were composed and rather aristocratic in public.

“Settle down!” Carmen shouted annoyed. “Or I’m quitting now! The legend goes on something like this: as time went on and the little details were picked out, Slytherin stuck to his own ideas. Slytherin wanted to be more selective about students and that all magical teachings should only be taught to all-magic families!”

There were quite a few who looked at Hermione, who was beginning to regret coming to Adrian for help.

“He didn’t want to take Mudbloods under his wing, because in that time muggles liked to kill wizards,” she hissed out, throwing out her arm for theatrics sake. “So those born to muggles weren’t trustworthy and they still aren’t trustworthy!”

More cheers, and Adrian pulled his wand, shifting his body language towards Hermione. Adrian doubted anyone was going to do anything, although it would be a spectacular story to try and explain to Professor Snape.

“Eventually Gryffindor and Slytherin had a fight, a duel or an argument or something,   and Slytherin was kicked out of Hogwarts! So Slytherin built a hidden chamber in the castle, one that none of the other founders knew of. Slytherin sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that nobody would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived. The heir alone would open the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the monsters within, and use it to purge the school of all mudbloods!”

That sounded ridiculous in Adrian’s point of view. If that was truly the case, why wouldn’t the Chamber have been opened during Grindelwald's time, when the muggle’s were actually being a threat?

Adrian stood abruptly, stretching lazily and giving a small nod to signify he was satisfied. Carmen politely gave him a rude gesture, abandoning her chair to get back to whatever homework he had taken her from. Hermione stumbled upwards quickly, eager to leave the room. The other students began reorienting the room back to its natural position, dragging the chairs across the ground.

“Where do you think you’re going!” Millicent blurted, jumping to her feet and clumsily knocking over the chair she had been sitting on. “Leading a Gryffindor here, inside the Common room, and not only that but she’s a filthy--“

“Step aside, Bulstrode,” Adrian commanded, rubbing his temple with one hand. The other gripped his wand in his sleeve. “We’ve already established that you do what I say.”

Millicent stormed right up and too close for Adrian’s comfort. “What’cha gonna do about it, orphan?”

Adrian’s cheek twitched and his eyes narrowed. There were a few whooping sounds as students turned to see the exchange-- the story of the burning Bulstrode was something of a classic. A prime example of tiny first years decking it out.

“I’m saying that you should step aside, and we won’t have any unfortunate accidents.”

Millicent’s breath was directly on Adrian’s face. Her nostrils flared like an ox. “How about, no.”

Adrian’s grip on his wand tightened. Hermione moved behind him, likely reaching for her own wand.

“I said,” Adrian paused, feeling the swell of magic under his call, moving with the current of his aggression, “move.”

Millicent shouted and paused dumbly. It took a moment for her to process the situation before she dropped to the floor-- her green and black knitted Slytherin scarf was smoldering hotly. Not full out fire, but the uncomfortable heat around her throat.

The Slytherin common room was filled with the enthusiastic clapping of the minority who had been paying attention. The others jumped, peering around in confusion, then disappointment, as they realized they missed yet another feud. Adrian pulled Hermione out through the common room, thankful that the confrontation had happened inside the room. Hermione gave a full body shiver as the magic set the deal in place.

“Your deal is set,” Adrian’s voice was suspiciously blank, his eyes dull and looking far too distant. “You won’t be able to tell anyone about the events that happened inside,  good luck finding a book for Potter.”

“W-wait.” She garbled out, clutching his arm tightly. “You-- I didn’t know that you’re an orph--”

“Don't,” Adrian growled out, glaring at he with a menacing look which made her breathless. “I left them, not the other way around.”

“Like-- emancipation?” Hermione seemed confused. She stumbled, eyes widening in shock. “Were they... were they bad to you?”

Adrian’s jaw creaked as his teeth pressed harshly together. Hermione twitched as she finally realized she was on testy grounds.

Adrian pulled his arm free and walked past her, Hermione stumbled in worry and mostly confusion. “Wait! Where are you going!”

“Owlery,” Adrian grunted, not even dignifying her to pause. “To send a letter.”

“At this time?” She questioned, baffled and sounding a bit lost.

Dear Merlin did he have to do everything?

She followed him a safe distance, only until she recognized her surroundings and diverged off towards her own tower. Adrian continued to the Owlery, writing a quick letter on the free parchment provided in the building. Bellatrix would know something about this madness; it seemed right up her alley to know something about monsters out to eat mudbloods.

He didn’t receive a letter back, much to his dismay. Hedwig returned happy though, so she must have mooched decent food off of Rabastan’s plate again.

On the bright side, knocking down his reputation in Slytherin had given him another deal with Hermione, although this time not in his favour.

It was barely a week later when she came running to him in a corridor, wanting to ‘purchase’ a deal like it was muggle currency.

He was starting to regret gaining her infallible trust the prior year.

This time she wanted him to somehow obtain shredded Boomslang skin and powdered bicorn horn, potion ingredients he didn’t have on hand.

He stared at her, and she shrugged with an uneasy smile.

“Will you be paying for this, this time?’ Adrian sighed, scratching behind his ear as he thought. The ingredients would be expensive, normally debts only qualified for the service of obtaining them, they didn’t include the price of the items themselves.

“We can pay!” Hermione blurted. “We just need a little of each!”

‘We.’ That meant he was assisting the Golden Trio once again. Spectacular.

Adrian looked at the two ingredients and thought about what they could be used for. “Alright, I’ll get them to you and you pay once I deliver. Boomslang skin will be harder, it's normally a galleon per vial, you’re lucky I know somewhere I can get it for fifteen sickles.”

“We just need them soon.” Hermione blushed, looking at her feet unsure.

‘We’ again. The Golden Trio was on something time sensitive, which likely meant they were brewing potions or trying rune-based rituals. Considering the shared intelligence of the group, potions was much more likely. He couldn’t help but wonder why they were they brewing potions?

He still had the lists of Knockturn Alley stores that allowed order by Owl, he could easily purchase the ingredients and be reimbursed at a later time. The benefit was now he knew the group was attempting something.

He wished Bella would get back to him already, he had questions still.

Chapter Text

The highly anticipated Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor quickly outshone Millicent's illuminating challenge. Her injuries around her neck healed with a burn salve given to her by an entertained seventh year. Her embarrassment worked better than flesh eating slug repellent, Adrian had barely seen her in days.

Hermione seemed more vocal and courageous after the Slytherin stunt. Often she searched him out just to compare essays or other meager requests. Through mutual 'friends', he had slowly been introduced to more Gryffindors. The Weasley Twins enjoyed his deal service and often asked questions on the parameters, although nothing had been agreed on. Adrian had a small suspicion he'd have to start figuring out how to owl order alcohol into the castle.

Draco had become grouchier, sleep deprived and anxious for the first match. Daphne casted delicate charms to disguise the bags under his eyes, clicking her tongue at his horrid state all the while.

The Saturday morning of the match, the entire Slytherin team vanished from the dorms. Blaise assured the frantic Pansy, that it was simply a house tradition. Bad luck to the team if they were spotted out of uniform.

As eleven O'clock drew closer and tensions rose alongside, the entire school drifted to the cloudy outdoors and onto the tall stands surrounding the field. A few spells were casted by the Hogwarts official, to redirect lightning in the unfortunate chance the sky became muggy halfway through.

Pansy had latched herself onto Adrian's arm, searching for the first replacement for Draco she could find. Her hair was pinned up to her head and bounced with her excited footsteps as she guided him onto the pitch.

"Dray is amazing," She swooned, anxiously rambling to dispel her own worry, "He's so fast..."

"Do you play, Adrian?" Daphne asked, looking more dignified with her reserved walk, "I don't believe I've heard your stories."

Adrian grimaced slightly and selected his words mindfully, "I am... aware, of the rules and regulations. I know how to fly a broom, although I haven't since I was very young."

Daphne hummed, kicking a smell pebble with her foot, "So your biological parents were purebloods?"

Adrian stopped walking sharply; this caused Pansy to squawk out as she nearly tripped. Daphne continued walking a few steps, pausing before looking over her shoulder with a carefully formed bored expression.

The hairs on Adrian's neck rose as he scrutinized the pureblood heir before him. Caution and paranoia twisted his stomach into an uneasy misshapen knot.

"I believe that is personal, Greengrass."

Daphne smiled politely with the grace and poise of a trained woman, "My mistake, Adrian. I wasn't aware you consider any information too personal," her eyes shifted flintily, "or perhaps the proper coin is in order for your trade?"

Pansy whined loudly, tugging pettily at Adrian's sleeve. Her determination to get to the stands halted the confrontation and the imminent argument, despite how artfully Daphne phrased it.

The crowd of older students near the base slid apart to allow the three to meet with Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle, already near the top of the bleachers. Theo wore a thick green scarf which emphasized the thin hollows of his cheeks.

"Where's Draco?" Pansy inquired, rising onto the tips of her feet to try and see Draco on the pitch. The distance rendered the entire team as a collection of indistinct blurs of green and silver.

Once the Gryffindors walked onto the pitch, swathed in gold and crimson, they were greeted by cheers and applause; Slytherin house began hissing loudly in mockery.

The match began instantly; Draco flew well and agilely on his new broom, a platinum haired streak of speed and acrobatics.

Not long thereafter, the sky gurgled behind angry dark clouds. The weather shifted, and released buckets of shivering cold rain.

Pansy squealed, raising the hood of her cloak to try and protect her hair and skin. Adrian grimaced and followed suit. Against his best efforts, the rain plastered his hair flat to his head. Daphne tilted her wand upwards and casted a translucent umbrella to protect her corn silk hair.

Theo twitched, splashing water off his face onto Goyle who blinked dumbly at the suddenly cold.

"That bludger sure does like Potter," Blaise muttered, squinting through the rain with enhanced binoculars. He was mutely surprised Blaise had enough foresight to charm them against the rain; Adrian could barely see the seeker's shape in the sky.

"Did someone charm it?" Daphne frowned, peering from under her umbrella, "It's not moving properly."

Pansy sniffed insulted, "it's not like Draco needs help-"

Adrian frowned and tilted his head curiously. He hadn't ever refreshed his memory on the rules of Quidditch; what small tidbits he knew were mostly the simplified versions for children. Obviously tampering with any of the equipment would be a huge regulation, especially with how dangerous the sport already was.

"Looks strange, don't it?" Theo muttered out loud absentmindedly. He nudged Adrian in his side eagerly, "It looks pretty strange-"

There was a hollow gasp throughout the stadium as Skylar's outstretched arm was smashed into by a bludger. Although Adrian couldn't discern the action, the announcer was rapid fire explaining how the bludger had broken its spellwork to execute such a maneuver. Someone had tampered with the equipment.

Draco didn't let the clear sign of tampering disturb him. He swept in quickly, his naturally skinnier body slid past Skylar's with ease.

Pansy jerked beside him, placing her hands on her hips as her face puckered in a look of irritation. Other students glanced back to locate him in the rain, eyeing him curiously.

"I didn't do anything," Adrian defended sourly," I have no deals for enchanting a bludger. I honestly don't know the rules of Quidditch that well."

"We best fix that, get you on a broom." Theo responded distractedly, his eyes locked on Skylar who was now on the ground. The final whistle was called as Draco ensnared the golden sphere, triggering the end of the match. The teaching staff swept onto the field, Lockhart was distinguishable by his bright yellow robes.

"You'd like to see that, wouldn't you?" Adrian grunted, rising onto the tips of his shoes to look over the other heads, "Me on a broom, I have better things to do."

Theo's mouth quirked into a shark like grin, "Eight sickles Draco takes you flying."

Adrian turned and looked at Theo with a distinctly unimpressed expression, "You just want to see me look like an idiot."

Theo shrugged although he was genuine as he spoke.

"I actually just want to see you fly. Can't imagine you doing it, and Merlin knows it would cheer up Draco. Maybe liven things up a bit around here since all that Chambers of Secrets shite."

"I don't think you can fly," Daphne added in charmingly, "I'll throw in a Galleon."

Theo gave Adrian a meaningful look.

"That's a bit of gold there, Harry."

Adrian flinched violently and glared at Theo, "Don't call me that."

Daphne tilted her head in a formal nod and smiled.

Gryffindor won the match unfortunately even while Skylar suffered the consequence of Lockhart's mediocre excuse of spell work. The scored points before Draco ended the match leant in Gryffindor's favor.

The Slytherin team instead told stories of Skylar's unfortunate ailment over and over, each retelling becoming more and more preposterous. It was shared in the common room with laughter and smuggled pints of Butterbeer; they may have lost but Potter was trapped in Hospital Wing for a week.

Draco, once informed by a suave Greengrass, was thrilled with Adrian's deal. As unorthodox as it was in comparison to Adrian's usual careful bartering, he was rather trapped in. Galleons for humiliation and ridicule.

Hermione had better enjoy those premium ingredients, that's what those coins were being used for.

Adrian was escorted outside onto the Quidditch pitch by a small train of eager bystanders. Most were other yearmates, although a few fifth years and Ravenclaws trailed behind.

They didn't have any of the Quidditch team's balls or equipment, the team was rather paranoid with meddling after someone bewitched the Gryffindor's bludger to target Skylar. Instead, Daphne offered to shoot sparks or other illusions into the air for Draco to weave between. The intention was to teach Adrian the finer aspects of flying, although Draco could only avoid flaunting for so long.

"You hold the broom like this," Draco instructed, grasping his broom in a peculiar fashion, "Although I always have a reverse grip since it makes it easier to dive suddenly..."

Adrian glanced pitifully at Theo. Theo shook a handful of coins in his fist, rattling them audibly.

Pansy handed the spare broom to Adrian. It was one of the Nimbus Two Thousand and One's, sleek and more streamline than anything Adrian had ever used. Likely more expensive than the entire Gryffindor team's stock put together.

Racing and Quidditch brooms were built with a series of safeguards and regulations. Knowing the Slytherin team, Adrian wouldn't be surprised if all those securities were disabled.

Bellatrix was going to kill him if he fell.

Draco mounted his broom with well-practiced ease and secured his hands in the unique grip. He settled and watched Adrian patiently although expectantly.

Adrian tightened his fist unsurely on the broom- it felt too flimsy to support his weight.

He could only imagine Lutain laughing at him, the snake would be nearly hysterical at Adrian's uncharacteristic fear.

With a slow exhale and a few internal curse words, he stepped over the tail end of the broom. His foot secured on the other side. Now straddling the charmed wood, he glanced at Draco who visibly brightened at seeing his cooperation.

Draco hunched forward slightly, keeping his feet firmly on the ground although poised r to jump at a moment's notice; Adrian mimicked his position although he didn't find it by any means comfortable.

"Push off with your feet, careful not to yank up on the broom." Draco advised, gently floating into the air in demonstration. He overemphasized his movements, showing how to twist and angle his direction.

Adrian pushed off with a feather light hop. There was a gut-wrenching moment where Adrian was sure he was going to teeter sideways and crash to the ground.

The broom held him aloft, he released the breath he had been holding.

Draco slid next to Adrian and reached across to angle the broom handle upwards. Adrian followed the movement, marveling as they begin ascending higher into the air.

The miniscule crowd below cheered as they finally reached the bottom rim of the lowest goal post.

"You're not bad at this," Draco noted relaxed. He withdrew his hand, slinking back several paces to allow Adrian to spin in a lazy circle.

"Not bad at spinning like a show-kneazle?" Adrian dryly snarked, unsettled by all the eyes watching his movements.

Adrian tested the brooms capabilities to sharply rise. The broom handle jerked upwards and smacked into his face, nearly triggering a bloody nose.

Draco chuckled at the movement, darting forward to grab his shaft and tug it back parallel to the ground below.

It took half an hour for Adrian to adequately maneuver the broom. At such a point Draco tailed him through small turns and dives.

"Want to make this more fun?" Draco asked, pulling out a galleon from his pocket. The large golden coin caught the mid-afternoon sun and shone brightly.

Adrian bitterly thought how unfair it was that all purebloods had so many galleons to throw around.

Draco dropped it.

Adrian watched the gold plummet, in horror. With a split second of hesitation, he pondered the benefit of chasing the coin. It was highly unlikely that he would be injured, especially with Draco watching so avidly. Without thinking any further on the matter, Adrian shoved the hand highest on the broom downwards with his body weight. It turned, nearly flipping him off his mount. The sudden direction change was nauseating, as well as the sudden acceleration. He blinked rapidly, searching for the falling coin desperately.

He caught up to the falling coin in seconds utilizing the broom's spectacular speed Adrian hadn't realized how high the two had ascended; his sudden dive still granted him plenty of time to pull out of the movement.

Draco was at his side instantly, "Not bad." Draco appraised with good intent.

Adrian glared and exhaled through his nose slowly to quell his churning stomach, "I don't think Quidditch is for me."

"Shame, you have a good build for seeker, although terrible posture. Maybe you could be my understudy."

Adrian threw the galleon at Draco's head.

They kept up at it for an exhaustingly long while, until Adrian's ears were burning from the sudden climbs and falls through the air. Draco's eyes were looking red. They hadn't brought any of the protective goggles.

Once Adrian got past investing his trust in a stick of enchanted wood, flying was amazing.

He wondered why they hadn't created a spell for flying without the aid of a creature or a broom. The ability to twist in the air unaided like a thunderbird would be something of legends.

The duo landed, Adrian stumbling more so than Draco. Adrian received his money from Theo and Daphne, counting it absentmindedly on the palm of his wind torn hand.

He was still enclosed in the dizzying exhilarating of flying, the blinding rush that falling unaided somehow triggered. His stomach wasn't following the same sort of euphoria; in fact, it was protesting loudly to his recklessness in sick murmurs and short acting cramps.

"You've flown before," Daphne mentioned calmly. Too calmly.

Adrian hadn't caught it, mind struggling out of its trance. Daphne tilted her head curiously, eyes wide in innocent fascination. "Were you better than your brother?"

"Merlin no, I-" Adrian cut off, sharply, his tone and word faltering as rapidly as he had said them. His mind caught up, snapping into its state of normal awareness as he registered her question.

Oh, Merlin no.

Theo's eyes widened as he looked between the two in shock, "But I thought you were an orphan?"

The tension flying had released returned with the viciousness of an entrapped cobra.

Draco stepped between the pureblood and Adrian. He raised his wand subtly, in a pointed warning. "This isn't the time or the place..."

There was an indiscernible sound in the distance, growing louder in its repetitiveness. A single form raced down from the castle, repeating Draco's name over and over.

Millicent's eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and excitement, like a child caught smuggling something dangerous. Her nostrils flared as she breathed heavily, repeating over and over her mantra as she grew closer.

"Breathe," Draco sighed, looking shrewdly unsettled by her composure, "What do you want?"

"They found another frozen! But this time it's a kid!" She gasped out between heavy pants.

"What?" Daphne gasped, hand flying to her mouth in surprise, "A student?"

"A Gryffindor first year," Millicent nodded, looking very pleased despite her exhaustion, "The kid who took photos. Get this- his camera? It melted."

Theo looked alarmed and looked at Adrian with growing dread, "You know any monster that does that?"

Adrian blinked and shook his head, in surprise. His head struggled to catch up, drawing a blank under the expectant expressions. "A- A Zorono? A persian dragon...any drawings of it will combust but this?" Adrian trailed off awkwardly, nearly flushing in embarrassment. He truly didn't know any sort of beast that damaged magical film.

Theo gulped, and Adrian felt annoyingly helpless.

"We're Slytherin's, right?" Theo hopefully contributed, "So it won't attack Slytherin students, yeah?"

Once again, eyes were on him for answers to something he didn't know.

"I don't know-"

Adrian paused and felt a disgustingly surreal sensation of something sliding out of his skin.

"I've sent a letter to my father," Draco sniffed, "I haven't gotten an owl back."

"Neither I." Pansy scowled, tapping her foot against the ground impatiently.

Adrian tried not to squirm as he felt something emerge completely out of his waist; it encircled his body twice before it moved towards and around his thigh.

"On the bright side," Millicent spoke up, having finally regained her breath, "I heard Lockhart is making a duelling club,"

"Are you serious?" Draco blinked, before his eyes alit with something devious, "Chances to mess with the Gryffindors? Oh, this will be memorable."

"Gotta stock up on humiliating spells," Theo chimed in, wriggling in place excitedly. His anxiety behind the attack had vanished, or at least seemed to be repressed.

"I'd love to see Potter barf slugs." Pansy sighed dreamily, clinging to Draco's arm with a malicious grin.

Millicent looked grudgingly at Adrian, "You know any good spells?"

Adrian's mind whirred quickly. Spells, he knew spells.

Something embarrassing or humiliating...something that would take a considerable amount of time to reverse…

Slowly a smile spread across his face. It was disconcertingly dark, "I have an idea actually."

Adrian returned to his room and locked the door behind him. He immediately approached the large mirror- something Theo transfigured, and removed his clothing.

He threw his cloak and shirt onto the bed with reckless abandon. Torchlight shimmered over his skin, reflecting off undulating scales of magic ink. The Nagini tattoo flexed accordingly, her head trailed over his ribs and stomach.

"Master?" Lutain slid out of the hole on the side of his heated crate, "You are back from being a bird?"

Adrian didn't he trailed his own fingers over the inked head of Nagini. Although there was no textural difference, she arched into his touch.

"Hello," Adrian hissed, considering the mirror directly to see the reptilian eyes, "What are you doing here Nagini?"

She flickered her tongue, "Message."

Its hiss was distorted and feminine, not at all like the serpent's real voice.

"From my father?" Adrian inquired with the barest traces of longing. He hadn't been in contact with the man, he hadn't spoken to it as often as he desired. He wanted to ask and learn so much, but not through these circumstances. There was something about using a messenger engraved into his own flesh, that felt somehow violating.

"Did Bellatrix get my owl?"

It paused in thought, hindered by its low intelligence. It was surreally like speaking to Lutain the first time he had met the serpent.

"Chamber of Secrets open before."

Adrian gasped audibly in surprise. Of course it had, it would have had to be in history at some point if it was making such a ruckus.

"When? I thought only the Heir of Slytherin could open it... Is there another heir? There's a monster I heard in the walls..." Adrian trailed off, growing more uncomfortable with the conversation the longer it was one sided.

"Open long ago." it whispered simply, "No open now."

Oh Merlin, it's intelligence was even worse than Lutain. It didn't seem to have trouble comprehending information, although Adrian couldn't be certain of how much was being recited.

"Why not now?" A different voice hissed curiously.

Lutain had slid over, able to comprehend the hisses of the mark and respond accordingly.

"Why can't the chamber open now?" Lutain ventured to ask, flicking his own tongue close enough to tickle Adrian's navel.

The tattoo peered at Lutain curiously from beneath Adrian's flesh.

"No speak. Speak open chamber."

Adrian furrowed his brow and chewed his lip thoughtfully.

"A speaker must open the chamber? There's another speaker in Hogwarts?"

The tattoo flicked its tongue as it took moments to register Adrian's word. It nodded politely, resulting in a perturbing sensation of movement pushing against his abdomen.

"The monster is a snake," Lutain hissed gleefully, enamored with the possibility of another beast.

"A large serpent of noble kind! Master!"

Things weren't matching up. Only the Heir of Slytherin could open the chamber… that required whoever it was to be a Parselmouth. If the ability to speak parseltongue was a direct lineage skill, which it seemed to be, it would imply that Adrian was now the Heir of Slytherin. Unless it was inherited as a title, where it could only be bestowed by another speaker already.

But Adrian had met Lutain before he was ever adopted by his father. Did that mean that there were more parseltongue speakers out there? Adrian was under the impression the gift was incredibly rare.

"Tell my father," Adrian paused hesitantly. What did he want to say to the man? What was there to say?

If parseltongue marked a distinct trait of the Heir of Slytherin, and the one who opened the Chamber had to be a speaker...

"Lutain," Adrian breathed excitedly, his mind whirred with the perfect way to ridicule Potter.

"I need you to do a favour."

Chapter Text

The shipment of boomslang skin and powdered bicorn horn arrived in the grip of a ratty, tawny eagle. It snapped its beak twice at Goyle and stole some of Crabbe's egg.

The packaging was secure and within hours Hermione was handing over the money for the purchase. The ingredients weren't easy to find, but with this payment, Adrian finally had enough to purchase the animagus potion.

His Occlumency shields increased every day, proceeding along with his carefully timed plans.

He had already talked to Draco, who affirmed that if Snape (who was the assistant to Lockhart for the dueling club) chose a volunteer, it would almost certainly be Draco. The other "volunteer" would definitely be chosen by Lockhart: Skylar Potter, the celebrity.

The only uncertainty, Draco confessed, was if Snape was intending to see Skylar embarrassed; if that was the case, the potions professor would call on Adrian himself.

The idea was both flattering and unsettling.

In the days leading up to the Dueling Club's first meeting, Adrian spent his time in the library scouring through nearly every book he could on references to snakes or snake creatures.

He had marked off Atups, small winged serpents who lived in deserts, able to glide over long distances. Nehustans and Runespoors were added to his implausible list. Adrian didn't know if Parseltongue expanded outwards to encapsulate serpentine species of dragons and other reptiles. Sea Serpents weren't actually related to the snakes Adrian knew he could speak to; would his ability reach the smooth skinned variants?

He still didn't know how such a large monster was moving throughout the castle, the Creevy boy and the cat were found in two entirely different areas of the castle. Whatever it was, it could move invisibly through the school. Perhaps there was a species which could camouflage itself?

Adrian didn't have time to venture into that territory, he was busy searching for simple spells which could properly humiliate an opponent, just in case.

The Dueling Club was an event to see. Nearly all of the Slytherins turned up to watch Snape duel against their least favourite teacher on staff. The Great Hall had been altered, all of the tables and furniture removed with the exception of a tall golden platform. Candles floated high above shining on the excited students below.

Gilderoy Lockhart walked onto the stage, resplendent in deep plum robes. Snape was wearing his usual black, looking frustrated with his teaching companion.

"Gather round, gather round!" Lockhart shouted out, waving his arms excitedly. "Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me?"

"Unfortunately," Theo grimaced, causing Crabbe to snigger.

"Now! Professor Dumbledore has kindly granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions- for full details, see my published works. Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," He flourished to the scowling man. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry; you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

Snape's upper lip was curling. It was wonder that Lockhart was still happy; Adrian couldn't imagine anyone willingly dueling Snape and still seeming pleased.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed. At least Lockhart did, with an unnecessary flourish, while Snape just jerked his head shortly. They both raised their wands like swords in front of them, shifting their stances, turning to present a smaller target.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position!" Lockhart instructed the quiet crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"A shame," Draco muttered under his breath.

Lockhart counted down and both swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent. Snape shouted a disarming charm before Lockhart could do so much as inhale. Lockhart flew backwards off the stage and slid onto the floor in an undignified sprawl. His wand went spinning off into the crowd.

Malfoy and Pansy cheered loudly.

Lockhart stumbled upright onto his feet. "Well, there you have it!" He stated, tottering back onto the raised platform. "That was a Disarming Charm, as you see, I've lost my wand- ah, thank you." He smiled to a Gryffindor first year who eagerly handed it to him. "An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"

Snape looked murderous. Lockhart noticed, because he quickly shouted. "But enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs!"

Snape strode over to Skylar instantly and beckoned Draco. "Perhaps a demonstration before the students are throwing jinxes?"

"Of course!" Lockhart stumbled, helping the unprepared and wincing Skylar up onto the golden stage. "A wonderful idea!"

Draco took a few steps to pass Adrian, pausing and wincing as Adrian smilingly offered his hand. Draco took it, and Lutain slid through the clasped hands around the arm of Draco.

"He is humid, Master." Lutain hissed from Draco's arm, "He smells of fear."

"Don't worry, he won't bite." Adrian murmured. "Well, not you at least."

Draco nodded and walked up to the other end of the stage. Adrian squeezed around the crowd, trying to orient himself halfway down the length of the stage as near as he could get.

"Face your partners!" Lockhart shouted, "And bow!"

Skylar and Malfoy barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other.

"Wands at the ready!" Shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents- only to disarm them! We don't want any accidents. One...two.."

Skylar swung his arm up but Malfoy had already casted his spell on two. His spell hit Skylar so hard he stumbled backwards. Skylar responded accordingly, shouting, "Rictusempra!"

A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled over, wheezing.

"I said disarm!" Lockhart shouted. "Disarm!"

Malfoy sunk to his knees. Skylar looked unsure, and Malfoy took this chance to choke out, "Tarantallegra!"

Skylar yelped as his legs jerked around him in an obscure, uncontrollable dance.

"Stop!" Screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge.

"Finite Incantatem!" Intoned the potions professor. Malfoy stopped wheezing and Skylar's legs stopped trembling.

"Perhaps, it would be best to teach the students how to block spells?" Snape drawled, watching as Lockhart flushed red and rushed to Skylar's aid.

"Now, Skylar," Lockhart started. He smiled dazzlingly. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this-"

He made a complex movement with his wand and ultimately dropped it.

Malfoy made eye contact with Adrian and gave a short nod.

"Three... two... one... go!" Lockhart shouted.

Malfoy raised his arm, his sleeve low enough Adrian could only see the end of his wand. He shouted out, "Serpensortia!"

The spell was mispronounced only slightly, yet it was enough no serpent was actually conjured. Lutain instead unraveled from Draco's arm and sprang out from under his sleeve; only if you had been looking closely would anyone notice the difference.

Lutain landed heavily on the floor and reared his head with a loud hiss.

Nearby students screamed and stumbled back, Snape looked surprised but also positively gleeful with the turnout.

"I'll get rid of it!" Lockhart shouted, waltzing past the horrified Skylar. He pointed his wand, and with a loud bang Lutain flew through the air before landing in exactly the same spot with a smack. Adrian would have been concerned if it was anyone except Lockhart casting the spell.

"You purple coated bird!" Lutain hissed angrily, turning and locking eyes with a terrified Gryffindor second year. "I'd love to bite the lark with my venom!"

The tanned boy whimpered loudly.

"Leave him alone!" Skylar shouted, looking terrified for his year mate.

Lutain performed perfectly, and once again Adrian was relieved he had taught his companion English.

Lutain slunk to the ground and instantly went docile. He was the threat level of a limp garden hose and staring at Skylar blankly.

The Gryffindor second year, if anything, went even paler.

Whispers spread quickly, accusing and skeptic eyes were turned to Skylar who was looking rather horrified himself.

"No- no I-" Skylar stumbled a bit, at a loss for words. "I don't talk to snakes-"

Lutain deserved a prized hamster; he nodded his scaly head.

If this was what people thought Parseltongue was, Adrian was almost disappointed.

Skylar stumbled backwards and the crowd around him took another step back. Even Ron was looking a bit pale.

"Do I get a rat?" Lutain hissed lowly, rising high enough to retain in eye contact with Skylar even having slid off the stage.

"No! I didn't do anything!" Skylar shouted desperately, pointing his wand at Lutain who had (bless his best friend), started to slowly slither after him.

"Stay back!" Skylar howled, looking on the verge of tears. Lutain stopped dead in his tracks and once again nodded obviously. A Hufflepuff nearest Adrian whimpered quietly.

Adrian would get Lutain the best rat he could find.

Skylar ran and the crowd collapsed into a maddening mixture of rushing feet and louder shouts. Words like "Parseltongue!" and "Heir!" were thrown around, already the rumor catching purchase.

Lutain moved and slid off the stage as fast as he could slither, Adrian lifted the edge of his cloak and his familiar quickly circled his calf inching upwards out of sight.

The students were all dismissed, nobody would be able to focus with Skylar having run out so quickly.

Adrian caught up with Draco and with a smile gave a short nod.

"Everyone thinks Potter is the Heir now." Draco seemed dazed. "that snake knows English?"

"Lutain is very smart," Adrian agreed, "and he's fine."

"Give him a rat or whatever he eats for me."

Adrian certainly would.

Adrian went looking for the Hogwarts gamekeeper, the giant man Hagrid.

Lutain deserved the best rat he could get and Hagrid seemed his best bet to get something that his familiar would absolutely love. The snow had come in, a wicked blizzard in the night which canceled all of the Herbology and Care classes outside. Likely Hagrid would be outside, trying to tend to the snow.

He found Hagrid, walking into the castle with a thick wooly balaclava and a moleskin coat. He was carrying a mangled mess of feathers in one arm.

"Hagrid?" Adrian asked, seeing the large man jump and stare at Adrian for a perplexing amount of time. "I talked with you before school started. You said you may know where to get some decent rats?"

"Ya!" Hagrid nodded, blinking out of whatever dazed state he was in. "Yer right! I got a few down in mah hut." Hagrid blinked a drop of melted snow out of his eye. The man was twitchy, curled in ever so slightly on himself with the strangest expression of nostalgia.

"What do you have there?" Adrian asked, trying to see the mangled mess. "What bird is that?"

"A rooster, second one killed this term," Hagrid explained, grimacing. "It's either foxes or somethin', an' I need the Headmaster's permission ter put a charm around the hen coop."

"Good luck with that," Adrian said. He smiled thinly. "Could you send me a few mice by owl?"

Hagrid was looking at Adrian's face a moment too long for comfort, almost bewitched by Adrian's thin lipped smile. Hurriedly the man nodded, as if realizing how rude he was being by staring. Hagrid mumbled something hurriedly, along the lines that he really did need to talk to the headmaster.

Adrian hummed to himself and walked up the steps towards the corridor which would take him to the library. A rooster? Surely it had to be a clue; almost nothing ever attacked something that the gamekeeper was protecting.

"Attack!" He heard a loud shriek although it was quite a distance away. "Attack! Another attack!"

Adrian turned and started running towards the noise. "No mortal or ghost is safe! Run for your lives!"

Door after door flew open along the corridor as people filed out to see the sight. It was even better than Adrian could have imagined.

There was a petrified body of the same Gryffindor second year who Lutain had targeted at the dueling club and a ghost.

The ghost was stuck in a silent scream, body position stiff and rigid.

Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class. She pointed her wand and sent a loud bang into the air, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back into their classes.

"Caught in the act!" Shouted a Hufflepuff loudly. Adrian recognised the boy as someone he'd gotten into a fight with before, Ernie. Ernie pointed his finger at Skylar, who floundered for something to say.

Adrian caught Skylar's eye, and saw the utter terror and confusion in his eyes.

His plan was working perfectly.

The double attack on Dean (as he learned his name after) and the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Amazingly, it was Nearly Headless Nick's fate which concerned so many people. What monster could possibly do that sort of thing to a ghost?

There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.

Adrian had chose to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays; as much as he would like to see Bellatrix, he was in no state prepared to see his father once again. Just the thought brought back the anxious trembling in his hands.

Draco chose to stay at the castle as well, Crabbe and Goyle followed suit.

Christmas came around and Adrian received gifts from a surprising number of people.

Hermione had gifted him a luxurious eagle-feather quill. Hagrid sent a box with three well groomed mice, which had Lutain hissing with gleeful anticipation. Draco gifted him a box of treacle tarts, likely bought from the store Honeydukes.

Bellatrix sent him a bag full of galleons, which actually was very kind considering he owl ordered a large quantity of things now. Rabastan sent, once again, a collection of potions. These ones were more complex and quite a few were made for secret messages or truth serums. Rodolphus sent an ironic fountain pen, shaped with a snake curving around the grip. Adrian didn't recognize the species.

The Great Hall was beautiful, not only were there a dozen frost coated Christmas trees and thick garlands of holly and mistletoe, but enchanted snow was falling from the sky above.

Draco Malfoy made several loud, snide remarks about the crude looking sweater Skylar was wearing. Hermione ushered the remaining two of the golden trio out of the Hall, which was suspicious but Adrian was too amused with Draco feeding Lutain various bits of pudding and tarts.

Adrian slipped into the library once more, as he had been since the roosters were added into his search. He took out a book, finally on the shelves from the lack of students over Christmas break, and went back to the Slytherin Common room.

The room was empty which wasn't much of a surprise. It meant that Adrian had a selection of any of the couches to read the book on.

The stone entrance slid open and Draco walked in with Crabbe and Goyle lumbering behind him. As well as-

"Bullstrode?" Adrian asked, lifting one eyebrow curiously. "I thought you went home for the holidays."

Millicent stumbled, looking rather odd before she jutted out her chin, "I came back."

Adrian blinked, and looked back at his book. She must have still been upset at him.

"Wait here," Malfoy said to Crabbe and Goyle who both took seats on nearby couches. "I'll go and get it, my father's just sent it to me-"

Draco walked off to his room, and then returned with a newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Crabbe's nose, causing the boy to go cross-eyed. Draco grinned. "That'll give you a laugh."

"Master?" Adrian peered over his book over towards the steps to the downstairs level where the rooms were. With the majority of Slytherins gone, Adrian felt it was alright to leave the door open for Lutain to freely wander the common room.

Draco and the others chattered on about something Adrian didn't care about. Lutain slid over and scented the air. The sight of Lutain sliding up onto the table between the couches caused all three to pale.

"There it is," Draco cut in, shifting topics to point at Lutain. "I was going to see if it liked stewed carrots."

"Considering Lutain hates vegetables, I doubt it," Adrian noted, giving a long stretch before closing his book and facing the group. "What were we talking about?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," Draco caught Adrian up. Malfoy jutted his chin out, maybe in an attempt to pout. "I wish I knew who it was. I could help them."

Crabbe's jaw dropped so he looked even more clueless.

"You must have some idea who's behind it all…" Millicent trailed off, her voice wavering strangely.

"You know I haven't, how many times have we had this discussion?" Draco scowled. Draco turned and glanced directly at Adrian. "If anyone knows it's you."

All eyes were on him. "Well, the school seems set that it's Skylar Potter."

Draco let out a massive snort.

"And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing- last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time...I hope it's Granger." He said with relish.

Adrian sighed loudly, "Honestly, Draco. You just don't like her because she's actual competition."

"I don't like her because you dragged her here," Draco snapped. "You and your bloody deals and now you're dragging in Mudbloods?"

"I'm sorry," Adrian said, his tone carefully pitched to indicate he was anything but. He tilted his head towards Draco. "Are you questioning me?"

Draco scowled and crossed his arms. "That's Millicent's job, isn't it?"

Millicent blinked wide eyed and looked overwhelmed.

Something wasn't adding up.

"D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"

"Oh, yeah...whoever it was was expelled," said Malfoy, "They're probably still in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Goyle said, looking puzzled.

"Azkaban- the wizard prison, Goyle." Malfoy looked at him in disbelief. "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backward."

"How did the chamber get opened?" Millicent butted in. "If only the Heir can open it, how would someone be able to if they're in Azkaban?"

Draco waved his hand at Adrian, beckoning him to take a turn to talk.

Adrian shrugged half heartedly, trailing his hand down Lutain's back. "I don't know. There isn't any information- I didn't know about the death." Adrian nodded to a smug looking Malfoy. "Maybe it required specific magic, or a specific ability."

Goyle's eyes widened and he nudged Crabbe who also seemed to have realized something.

"Lutain," Adrian spoke low, causing his familiar to glance at him. "Do you have a rat to sniff out?"

Lutain's tongue flickered in the air wildly, "Master, there is something- no. No rat. Master."

Adrian relaxed and looked at Millicent. She seemed rather uncomfortable still, yet it was undeniably her.

"Malfoy," Adrian snapped out, nearly smacking himself for not thinking of it sooner, "Do you know what Boomslang skin is used for?"

Draco seemed surprised but blinked. "Brewing potions now, Selwyn?"

"I buy them," Adrian deadpanned, "but amuse me."

"We've got to go," Millicent stood. There was something off about how she sniffed, something about the tilt of her head. "I heard that Potter git was in the library."

"Give him a hex for me," Draco waved them off, before returning in thought.

The three of them left, and Draco started to list off potions, "Grolji's Elixer, Polyjuice Potion, Madora-"

Adrian suddenly felt a bit dizzy. He gave Malfoy a sharp look. "Polyjuice Potion? That changes your shape, doesn't it?"

"For an hour," Draco confirmed, not quite understanding, "Why?"

Millicent had been acting odd, Goyle more obvious than normal, Crabbe unusually silent-

Adrian glanced at the exit door. All three of them had vanished without a trace.

He cursed so crudely Draco blushed.

Chapter Text

Adrian adopted a vengeful wrath once the rest of the students returned.

Millicent, the real Millicent, confirmed she hadn’t ever set foot in the dungeons during the break. This sent Draco into a fit as well.

With both Adrian and Draco prowling in a simmering anger, the Slytherin population consciously tried to avoid them.

Adrian didn’t care, his thoughts revolved around the actions of the Golden Trio.

A small part of Adrian was impressed- a second year successfully brewed the Polyjuice potion?

But where would three students find a secluded location secure enough to brew such a complex potion.

Adrian was venturing back to the spot where Filch’s cat had been petrified. He searched for any clue, either regarding the Slytherin heir or the trio.

 He heard Filch shouting from a corridor down, where a stream of water passed Adrian and descended a slope towards the shouting.

The puddle of water was traveling from under a heavy battered door, not slowing with its torrent.

It was a washroom, marked with a large “Out of Order” sign. Adrian grimaced as water soaked into his robe, yet he did not let it deter him.

He pushed the door open, feeling the resistance of the water that spilled out.

There was a bawling ghost, out of sight although loud enough to be a nuisance. It was dark; the candles normally magically lit were extinguished from the rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.

“Hello?” Adrian asked, his voice echoing off the walls.

A ghost head popped out of a stall. It was a young girl, her face translucent and blotchy. ‘Who’s that?” it glugged miserably. “Come to throw something else at me?”

She saw Adrian, paused, and seemed to grow even paler. She screamed, the sound echoing painfully in Adrian’s ears. Her eyes bulged, arms trembling and shaking water droplets almost comically onto the floor. Her jaw shook as she rattled out horrible choking noises, tears trailing down her face before she leapt into a toilet out of sight.

Adrian blinked, slightly dumbstruck by the violent reaction.

The room was eerily silent, the dripping faucets echoing rhythmically.

There was a small thin book under a nearby sink. It was black and waterlogged, standing out in the bleak room.

Adrian picked it up, wrinkling his nose at the uncomfortable texture of wet parchment. He opened the book,  there was no ink inside the pages. It completely unused.

It was a diary, and the date on the inner cover said it was fifty years old. Why would someone not use a diary, or why would they keep it around just to throw it away in a girls room?

Adrian hummed quizzically, searching along the spine and the back cover for the traces of a name. It was possible whoever it was would want it returned at a later time. He spotted something, almost carved with fine handwriting just inside-

T. M. Riddle.

Adrian dropped the book. It splashed back into the sink carelessly.

“No way,” he breathed, feeling distant as he opened the book again. How was it possible...

Then he was hit with something strong and dizzying, enough to nearly send him toppling to the flooded floor. It was overwhelming, the spasming sensation of pain prickling along each of his nerves. Nausea rose until the vague sensation of sick wasn’t limited only to his organs.

Adrian curled in on himself, almost heaving as his head felt thick and sluggish- as if he had inhaled too much of Lockhart’s perfume.

It whispered, something whispered words he could almost understand. A language he didn’t understand, something muffled but loud enough he could hear the cadence of speech.

The hand clutching the diary had gone numb from biting cold.

It relented, lifting immense weight from Adrian’s chest and suddenly he could breathe again.

He swallowed and placed the book in his front pocket. His cloak hung slightly further on the one side to accommodate the weight.. It pulsed something foreign, low and alluring like the first curse he had ever cast.

Considering that if this...thing, did belong to T. M. Riddle, Adrian wasn’t exactly sure what sort of effects it would have. It was possible it could seriously harm him.

But the coincidence of finding something from T. M. Riddle during the opening of the Chamber of Secrets- it had to be linked. Which led him to to the only impulsive thing he could think of doing.

He needed to write in this as soon as possible.

The attacks had mysteriously vanished, which given the recent discovery, made sense.

The diary- the diary belonged to his father, who was the Heir of Slytherin! Somehow this book was the one opening the chamber and setting the monster loose.

Although he hadn’t actually written in it yet, Adrian was too paranoid to leave it sitting out. He kept it on his body at all time, trapped within the anxiety ridden thoughts that somehow, someone would know that it was him.

The only thing to rattle him out of his sleepless thoughts was, somehow, Lockhart had gotten it in his head that he was the reason the attacks had stopped.

Lockhart’s idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast on February fourteenth.

The walls were coated with disgustingly pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti rained slowly from the pale blue ceiling.

Only Lockhart seemed to be enjoying himself, with the lurid pink robes to match the decorations.

The rest of the day, dwarves were hired to carry around singing valentines day cards.

The cards were rubbish at best. The highlight was the foul one, christened with glitter and red hearts sent from Lockhart to Snape during a house meeting.

Adrian had avoided the dwarves so far, mostly due to his infamous dealings. Daphne had received three, taking them all in grace.

Draco was dreading the event, knowing positively he would have at least one. The pale haired boy glued himself to Adrian’s side, certain that Adrian would have a way to avoid the blasted creatures.

Adrian couldn’t. Even running didn’t deter one persistent dwarf which managed to chase them across an entire open courtyard. If it wasn’t for the spell resistant skin, Adrian would have sent dozens of tripping spells hoping one would hit.

“Go get ‘em!” One Gryffindor shouted, whooping loudly at the dwarf when he saw the target.

There was no way dwarves should be able to run up stairs that fast; they were so short the legs shouldn’t be able to move that quickly.

“Is it after me, or you?” Adrian panted, although not looking as exhausted as Draco.

Draco was flushed, skin reddening and contrasting with his light hair.

“Doesn’t matter,” Draco panted, eyes sharpening with a look of Slytherin cunning, “It’s getting you.”

Adrian took a moment to puzzle over Draco’s words, not understanding foreboding tone.

Draco turned, and smacked Adrian lightly across his chest. Considering how fast they were sprinting up the steps, the even slight push was enough to topple Adrian to the ground.

He grunted, hitting the ground and catching a glimpse of Draco managing to escape.

“Draco!” He shouted, half angry although half amused by the absurdity of the situation.

They were being chased by a dwarf wearing a diaper.

It wasn’t nearly as funny once the Dwarf shouted loudly in victory and nearly tackled Adrian against the ground.

“Finally!” The dwarf grunted, shuffling in its side back for a slip of folded parchment. It cleared its throat, and Adrian knocked his head against the stone steps again.

“He’s the kid that boy Selwyn,

Who’ll sell you treats or pigskin,

And find you stuff right out of books,

He’ll save your skin with his looks!”

Adrian blinked, the poem was almost as absurd as the situation.

Someone burst into cackling laughter, Draco had peered out from the top of the staircase, having heard the valentine.

“We don’t talk about this,” Adrian grumbled, trying to dislodge the dwarf from where it sat on his chest.

“As if!” Draco cackled, “Oh Adrian! Will you fetch me pigskin?”

“Oi!” The dwarf  looked at Draco speculatively, “I got one for you too!”

Draco paled, and turned to run.

“‘We don’t talk about this’ my arse!” Adrian shouted, finally able to catch his breath when the dwarf jumped off his chest in hot pursuit once again.

Thankfully, it was the last valentine he received that day.

Draco wasn’t as lucky.

‘Hello’ Adrian wrote with the Eagle-feather quill Hermione gave him, ‘I know who you are.’

Adrian wasn’t sure if it would even work. It was a considerable risk, also considering that he didn’t know if it would trigger the dark magic or curse. He had his tattoo ready to send a warning and explain what he had done in the case of an unspeakable curse.

The ink was absorbed instantly into the diary; in seconds fine spidery handwriting wrote itself across the pages, ‘Hello, I’m sorry I believe we haven’t met. My name is Tom Riddle, who are you?’

Adrian chewed his bottom lip, he didn’t feel anything different. Perhaps there was no curse, or maybe he had to interact with it longer.

The handwriting was the exact same, all doubt he had for its true creator vanished.

Should he answer realistically?

“Lutain?” Adrian hissed, peering around his room. Almost on cue his familiar slid out of his charmed box, flickering his tongue quizzically.

“Yes, Master?” Lutain looked at the book in puzzlement, not seeing why Adrian was speaking so cautiously.

“This book, it’s possibly very cursed.” Adrian paused, “If something happens, I need you to push the book or hide it, and get help for me.”

Lutain tensed, “Is it smart to work with curses?”

“Probably not, but it’s my father’s.” Adrian swallowed, “And it involves the Chamber. Just...watch the door, you remember how to turn the handle? Alright, wish me luck.”

Adrian ignored how his snake watched cautiously. He dipped his quill in ink and scratched out the letters painfully slow.

‘Adrian Selwyn.’ He wrote, watching the words vanish into the pages themselves.

‘Hello then, Adrian.’ It replied almost instantly, seeming so friendly, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

Adrian paused, and sighed. What was he hoping for? There was no way that this diary and his father would trust him so readily.

‘I know you opened the Chamber,’ Adrian wrote carefully, ‘Where is it?’

The words sunk in, and he didn’t get a response until nearly two minutes later. The words were written considerably slowly, although not with hesitation of pondering words.

‘I’m sorry, I just caught the Heir, I don’t know. But I hear your school is suffering what mine did as well, fifty years ago. Shall I show you?’

Adrian scratched two letters, ‘No.’

He could tell he was confusing the book, although it was doing a marvelous job at hiding it.

‘Alright,’ It almost seemed to test the water, ‘It sounds wonderful that the situation is under control once more.’

Adrian snorted against his better judgement, a smile curling at his mouth. Was this what it would be like to actually have a conversation with his father?

‘My name is Hadrianus Selwyn,’ Adrian wrote carefully, ‘I have a familiar, his name is Lutain. Only two people can speak to him,’

‘That’s very interesting, as well as your name. You are very lucky to have a familiar while also in Hogwarts. I hear it is very difficult to obtain one.’

Adrian wasn’t entirely sure the book hadn’t been charmed with a monitor spell. Anything he wrote could be rewritten someplace else; he had to be subtle.

‘You could talk to him as well,’ Adrian wrote, hoping that the book was picking up the now not so subtle clues. ‘He was a pain to speak to at first.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t aware of a creature which could speak English fluently.’

Adrian growled annoyed.

‘I thought you’d be smarter for the Heir of Slytherin,’  Adrian scribbled out frustrated.

‘I’m sorry, I only caught the Heir.’

The book was being evasive because he didn’t trust him, which was understandable given that it was talking to a stranger.

“It doesn’t trust me,” Adrian hissed to Lutain, who was still peering at the book questionably. Adrian hadn’t ever taught Lutain how to read English.

“Nagini?” Lutain offered, “Only something Nagini knows?”

“Like what?” Adrian sighed, “I don’t know what much about my father to begin with.”

This book would start getting sassy if he didn’t start responding fast.

‘You’re being very uncooperative.’ Adrian huffed, flinching as the book suddenly dropped in temperature. It was seeping cold, tingling up the nerves, It stung, creeping like a numbing tar in his blood.

‘Stop that,’ Adrian scratched out, hand shaking slightly.

At once, it receded and paused.

‘Stop what?’ It asked innocently, the strange sensation tickling the back of his head.

‘Reaching up,’ Adrian wrote awkwardly, ‘Going up my arms.’

‘You can feel that?’

‘Yes.’ Adrian wrote, was he not supposed to?

It flared suddenly, not burning or tingling but moving up his hand once again. Rolling oil invisibly over the surface of his skin.

He felt it touch his barriers, sliding through like legilimency without any mind.

Adrian choked, folding over and clutching his scalp between shaking hands.

“Master?” Lutain hissed in alarm, “Master?”

“Possession,” Adrian choked out, feeling as if the invisible presence was clawing in his throat, “It’s-”

‘Oh,’ an invisible presence whispered, sliding between each wall of his mind like water, ‘oh,’

Then it receded, withdrawing so fast it left Adrian slamming backwards heaving against the back of his headboard.

“Back!” Lutain hissed, rearing in a lethal display as he revealed his long fangs, glaring in Adrian’s face with the viciousness of a wild animal, “Leave!”

“It’s me,” Adrian blinked, wincing as he fumbled for a vial of pain relief potion he received for Christmas.

He almost kicked his foot out to send the book flying across the room. An artifact with sentience strong enough to possess someone? What was his father thinking? At least he knew the book wasn’t spelled to compromise him.

A single word scribbled back across the page, shaky in contrast to its normally precise lines.

‘How?’

So now it believed him. It was alarming and a bit terrifying how quickly it demolished his Occlumency shields, he was proud of them.

‘I’m your son,’ Adrian wrote, his handwriting shaky for what was happening, ‘Voldemort is injured. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened and I can't find the entrance.’

‘Impossible,’ It wrote instantly, ‘Voldemort cannot be harmed.’

So his father had a god complex as well.

‘He is,’ Adrian tapped the edge of the quill against his lip, ‘He looks like a mandrake.’

‘What.’ It deadpanned. Adrian paused with his quill still on the page, ink seeped into a larger blot the longer he waited, ‘A mandrake. A screaming shriveled root.’

Adrian slid the book out of his reach and onto the edge of his bed. Its pages flickered quickly, moving from cover to cover like a whirlwind. It snapped shut, spine creaking loudly.

“What is it doing?” Lutain asked curiously, he hadn’t ever seen a book act like that before, “Is it angry for being read?”

“No, he doesn’t like how my father looks like a plant.” Adrian responded calmly, waiting for the diary to end its temper tantrum, “Apparently it’s a sensitive subject.”

The book swung open to an empty page, quickly spreading black ink across its page.

‘A lavatory. Speak in the tongue under the sinks. A girl was killed there.’

Adrian’s eyes widened- the ghost he had been talking to earlier? The one that screamed at him?

Of course, she would scream because he was similar in appearance to her killer.

‘What is the monster?’ Adrian wrote back calmly.

A single word filled the page.

‘Basilisk.’

Adrian was forced as the days continued, to pick his classes for the next year. Some people chose classes that were sure to be very simple to learn, Divination mostly. Adrian felt compelled to take Care for Magical Creatures, something about the course seeming highly interesting to him although he would likely be caring for slugs.

Ancient Runes also seemed important, as well as Arithmancy

In the end, he chose to take Ancient Runes and Care, leaving his schedule free to fill with his other required core classes.

Now that Adrian had talked to Tom Riddle over the more darker materials, he often took the diary with him to have conversations about everything he could whenever he could.

He found out, that his father was actually an amazing teacher.

With Tom Riddle’s written instruction, Adrian actually had confidence in his Occlumency. It was almost like holding the diary and focusing on his shields, somehow gave him a boost- like the diary itself was assisting him with making them stronger. It was entirely plausible considering the book had the suspicious capability for possession.

Then he ran into Hermione.

He scowled, glaring at her cold enough for the girl to freeze. Hermione managed to look guilty, and walked over before tugging on Adrian’s arm to pull him away from his chair and his books.

She dragged him around a bookshelf where they were a bit more secluded.

“Adrian, I’m really sorry-” She started, voice jumbling and jumping to explain, “You probably know that we had the Polyjuice potion... but we just wanted to ask Malfoy!”

“You used a deal against me.” He growled out angrily, “You snuck into my dorm to spy on me!”

Hermione chewed her lip uncertainly, and nodded.

“I have nothing left to say to you.” Adrian bit out, and Hermione grabbed his arm once more.

“I need your help!” She blurted, looking embarrassed, “I- I know you know a lot about magical creatures and I can’t find the right book so I was actually looking for you and...”

“Hermione!” Adrian hissed out, nearing the end of his patience.

“Basilisk!” She blurted, seeming unsettled but looking at him hopefully, “I think the monster is a basilisk!”

“Impossible.” Adrian ground out, “Basilisk’s can’t survive in this climate. Not to mention that if it was, Potter would have heard it-”

“He’s not a Parseltongue!” She exclaimed angrily.

“And the monster isn’t a basilisk!” Adrian hissed back, “Why don’t you busy yourself with course selections, or go read something useful.”

He turned and dismissed her, not feeling a shred of guilt when she looked very much like she was about to cry.

He returned to his spot, pausing and noticing at once something was askew.

He sorted through his books, mouthing the titles as he went.

It took him until he had placed them all back in his bag that he realized the diary was gone.

The next week, he heard the Basilisk travel through the pipes again.

He had rushed to the washroom in question, peering at all of the sinks but he hadn’t found any symbol for a snake. He still hadn’t managed to get to the chamber.

It was Hermione who was found petrified.

With how annoying she had been getting, a part of Adrian wished the basilisk had killed her.

With the recent attacks, the failure to find a culprit, and lack of knowledge of what the monster actually was; Dumbledore was suspended from Hogwarts by Minister’s Orders.

People were more frantic, the hospital wing was entirely shut down and permitted no guests. Classes were covered with the strictest security, and students moved in large groups.

The Exams were to start on the first of June, one week from today.

It was asinine that they were still getting exams- classes were canceled left and right in fear of the attacks. The library was closed from being a crime scene, and each house had a strict curfew.

Three days before the first exam, Professor McGonagall made an important announcement. The Mandrakes had finally grown to a point where the cuttings could be used to revive those who had been petrified.

The time was drawing short, the window of opportunity for the diary to act was down to just days.

Adrian smiled when he heard the announcement for all students to go back to their House Dormitories. That meant there was another petrification, which meant the diary had decided to take actions.

Draco stared at him horrified as he made his way the opposite direction of the Dorm.

“Adrian! Where are you going!” Draco hissed, and Adrian simply smiled. A breathless excited smile which left Draco standing stunned. Something wasn’t right about his eyes.

Adrian walked away, thankful that Lutain had fallen asleep in his pocket.

“Wake up.” Adrian giggled, sliding behind a tapestry and pulling out his wand, “It’s time to go to the chamber Lutain,” He practically crooned.

He casted the disillusionment charm on him, feeling the unsettling sensation as he walked through the now empty hallways with ease.

“What?” Lutain stumbled, waking up sleepily, “What time is it?”

“Time for the Chamber,” Adrian hissed, knowing that there was no risk while invisible, “Let’s head to the Chamber and see the basilisk.”

They walked to the washroom, there was a message written in blood right where the first message had been written at the start of the year.

“Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.” He read quietly in English, lifting a fist to bite it sharply. He would have laughed otherwise- out of sheer relief. Everything was working, the diary had taken a body.

He didn’t bother with investigating the sinks, “Open!” He hissed loudly.

The sinks ground, and slowly slid open to the beautiful sight of a hole in the ground.

Adrian stepped into the hole and slid out of sight.

“Look at the shed!” Lutain gasped, flickering his tongue at the huge hollowed form of the shed skin. It was twenty feet long and pale white with imprints of scales larger than Adrian’s fist.

There was something freeing about being in this chamber- miles underground. There had never been documents saying that the Chamber existed. No wards, spells, or maps ever drew it. It was completely untraceable, unmappable, which meant no matter what sort of spells Adrian casted, he would never be found.

His face was starting to hurt from smiling when he reached the next set of doors, two carved intertwining serpents with glittering green eyes.

“Open,” Adrian laughed, watching as the door cracked apart and each half slid out of sight.

Adrian walked forward, nearly skipping.

He and Lutain were standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars were decorated with more curved serpents, rose high into the dark to support the ceiling.

Adrian pulled out his wand and walked between the serpentine columns, his footsteps echoed loudly off the shadowy halls.

At the last of the pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. Adrian had to crane his neck back to see the face above: something monkey in features with a long thin beard.

At the base of the floor, a single prone red haired girl lay.

“Ginny Weasley?” Adrian asked, his voice echoing loudly, “Seems a bit strange to possess a pure-blood.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” a soft voice answered him behind.

Adrian turned slowly, holding his wand aloft.

The tall black haired boy was unmistakable, although he was eying over Adrian with interest, “You have my face,” Tom said, blinking in surprise and some sort of pride, “And my hair.”

“Blood adoption,” Adrian explained, trying to not seem strange with how intently he was looking at Tom Riddle. He hadn’t ever seen his father look remotely humanoid, seeing him like this was baffling and thrilling. Adrian wondered how similar they really would look once he grew more.

Ginny made a loud whimper, echoing through the hall.

Adrian looked down at the girl, “She isn’t dead?”

“Almost,” Tom sighed, looking at her fondly, “She was a wonderful pawn. As she grows weaker, I grow stronger.”

“Did you possess her the entire time?” Adrian asked intrigued, “Or only at times?”

“At times,” Riddle confirmed, prodding the girl with one of his shoes, “She was pathetically easy.”

“Are you able to go back into the diary?” Adrian asked, “It would be easier to take you out of here.”

Riddle was still eying Adrian with some sort of fond affection. Riddle stepped forward, bending slightly and with one hand touched Adrian’s cheekbone. Then his jawline, he pinched his chin and turned his head side to side to observe it better.

“You do look like me.” Riddle hummed, “So strange, I never thought I would ever have…”

He trailed off, and then he smiled. It was a wide breathless smile which somehow made something in Adrian’s heart stir.

“Has my older self taught you spells?” The younger asked excitedly, “I could feel you when you walked in here- why is that?”

“You can feel me?” Adrian’s jaw dropped, “How?”

Riddle shrugged and offered a sharklike grin, “Would you like to see Adalonda?”

“The basilisk?” Adrian asked excitedly, looking around the chamber.

Riddle turned, looked up at the statue and hissed loudly, “Speak to me Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.”

The stone mouth slid open, and from the empty cavern something slithered from within.

“Adalonda,” Riddle spoke, “This is a friend of your noble kind. He speaks and is of my blood.”

The basilisk hit the ground, its eyes were greyish and clouded by an extra eyelid. It’s girth was amazing, it’s hiss was loud enough to echo.

“Another speaker?” It spoke, voice much more intelligent as the rest of its body landed and began to slither between them, “So young. So fresh.” It hissed, jaws opening to reveal a row of multiple fangs in its mouth, pointed and needle sharp like a python or a boa.

Lutain slithered out of his pocket and up to see the basilisk, “Your scales are like sun on water.” Lutain prattled out, nearly wriggling in excitement, “Your teeth could sink many prey.”

The basilisk hissed, tilting its head curiously, “A little one,” It cooed, “So small, are your fangs sharp?”

Lutain hissed eagerly and slid off Adrian onto the ground to rear in front of the mighty basilisk. He was a tiny twig in the wake of an ancient Oak tree.

“What is your name, little one?” It tilted its head, “You are not Nagini.”

Adrian looked at Riddle who stood with his leg resting on the deathly still Ginny.

“You had Nagini when you were at Hogwarts?”

“She’s still around?” Riddle looked interested, “She had just hatched.”

“Nagini is wise.” Lutain hissed in glee, “Master! The mark! Summon the mark!”

Oh, that was actually a good idea.

Riddle blinked in alarm, “I finished the Dark Mark?”

“A different one,” Adrian explained, removing his cloak and unbuttoning his shirt. He pressed his fingers to his collarbone and hissed directly at his skin “Nagini.”

He grimaced at the sensation and Nagini pulled her way out of his skin. Riddle’s eyes widened and he smiled at the sight of his familiar moving around Adrian’s body, “Nagini,” Adrian addressed the mark, “Tell father that the diary has taken a body.”

The snake hissed and dove through his skin again.

“That’s brilliant,” Riddle smiled, glancing down at Ginny, “I think she’s comatose.”

Adrian nodded, staring at the Weasley girl.

Her breathing was low, barely anything. Her eyes had opened at some point and were rolling around in her skull, clouded and desperate. She made desperate whimpering noises, tears ran from the corner of her eyes.

“She’s going to die,” Adrian breathed, lowering to his knees. The sound of his kneecaps hitting the stone was muffled yet sounded loudly in Adrian’s ears.

He felt Riddle behind him, peering over interestedly. His presence washed soothing black waves over Adrian’s mind; he felt it go cloudy, everything tinted by the inhales and slowing exhales.

“She doesn’t have to,” Riddle spoke, there was a soft tone in his voice, one hand resting on Adrian’s shoulder, “You could take her with you if you want. She’d live.”

He could, he could take her with him. Be declared a hero and carry Ginevra Weasley to safety from the Chamber of Secrets...

But how would he explain how he knew she was down here? How would he explain how he snuck down here? How would he explain how he saved her from the basilisk?

Then what would the story be for how Ginny had been opening the chamber?

“No, no I can't.” Adrian breathed, the soothing dark around his shoulders was fogging his mind, “She can’t live.”

Adrian almost heard the phantom whispers of something inaudible hiss ‘yessss’ deep in his skull.

“Are you sure?” Riddle sounded so concerned, “I can pull away now, not become tangible.”

“You can’t.” Adrian breathed, “You can’t kill her entirely. I have to sneak you out in the diary.”

Riddle exhaled with a smile somewhere between resignation and pride, and with the sound of a taught wire snapping, Ginny let out a choked gasp and a cry. Tears began cascading as she started sobbing wildly.

“Master?” Lutain asked, slithering over and looking at Adrian concernedly.

Adrian didn’t hear him- whispers were gathering in his head.

“You should let her live,” Riddle whispered, his mouth by his ear.

Something was thrumming ‘Kill her, kill her.’

“Let her live,” He murmured once again,”She’s in pain.”

‘Kill her Adrian,’ Riddle’s voice was clouding his ability to breathe, like smoke in his lungs, ‘She can’t live.’

Adrian jerked forward and grabbed the diary from the ground.

Ginny turned her head towards him, her eyes met him and he could see her begging. Tears ran from her eyes.

“Lutain, we’re going.” Adrian spoke, feeling like he was watching the scene from outside his body, “Adalonda, I must go. Go to sleep, I’ll be back when I can. It may be months.”

Adalonda gave a regal nod, and turned towards a tunnel on the side.

“She’ll wake up, now that I’m not attached to her,” Riddle warned, looking at the scene with some sort of half lidded amusement- like everything was coming to fruition.

‘Leave her be,’ Something whispered, its voice enticing. He almost didn’t feel his own lips moving, “Leave her in the Chamber.”

“In the Chamber?” Riddle looked almost alarmed, reaching around in some sort of mock embrace, his touch felt like smoke, “In the Chamber? All alone?”

He was breathing in the clouding poison...

“Let her starve to death.” Adrian exhaled almost dazed.

He turned and stumbled out of the Chamber, Adalonda’s scales slid smoothly over the stone until she too, vanished.

Somewhere faintly over the sounds of Tom Riddle laughing in his head, he heard Ginny sobbing.

Fanart of the Chamber Scene

Chapter Text

Draco Malfoy noticed how Adrian was acting the moment he slipped in.

Draco stayed awake long since the others had retired. He noticed full well that Adrian hadn't been in the Slytherin Dormitories. It was far past curfew.

He noticed instantly the second the stone doorway shifted and a lone figure walked inside.

"Adrian?" Draco asked, rising to his feet. The figure was swaying, sluggish and barely remaining upright.

"Adrian?" Draco asked again, squinting in the dark, "Are you drunk?"

It was Adrian, he had one forearm braced against the wall to keep himself upright. Adrian jerked his head upwards- his pupils absolutely blown and his expression something Draco had only ever seen on his aunt Bellatrix in photos from Azkaban.

"Adrian?" Draco took a step back, mindful of the nearby table.

Adrian succumbed to giggles, blinking quickly before tilting his head, expression shifting to something confused before back to hysterical, "Abraxas?"

"What?" Draco blinked, feeling for his wand and holding it tightly, "Where have you been?"

Adrian's expression shifted, changing entirely into a too pleasant face, a too calm composure.

Something wasn't connecting right- like the expression behind Adrian's thoughts were bubbling out into something opposite.

"I'm sorry, Draco, is it?" Adrian spoke formally, blinking dazed and puzzled by the surroundings. He shook his head suddenly, whipping his neck around with the ferocity of his movements.

"Of course, my apologies. I dearly hope I haven't left you waiting too long." Adrian apologized, face shifting and looking so heartfelt sincere...

Draco stared. Absentmindedly his hand subtly drifted to where his wand was tucked securely.

"I'll be heading to bed," Adrian announced, giving a tight lipped smile, "Plenty of packing to do, considering we're leaving soon."

Adrian walked past with grace, pausing at the stairwell as if confused before he jolted forwards as if he had never hesitated.

Draco floundered, and shivered.

He had a feeling he didn't want to know.

Dumbledore returned the next day, apparently the other eleven governors contacted him. In wake of the death of Arthur Weasley's daughter, the anonymous conclusion was that such tragedy occurred due to his absence.

Dumbledore, in the mind of the Ministry, was the best person to try and restore order.

There were no attacks since that day. The hallways were filled with an invisible smog, mourning that encapsulated everything and everyone. The windows did not shine brightly, instead they glowed a dull grey, adding to the atmosphere.

The school once more took extra efforts to try and locate the Chamber of Secrets.

They came no closer to discovery, or closure.

Adrian tried not to think about it.

(Her face was so pale and scared all alone)

Adrian imagined the smile that Tom Riddle, that his father gave him. He forced his mind to summon the memory, already distorting and warping in his mind.

He remembered the excitement, the concern and the unusual pride that his real father had not shown him.

He obsessed over the fantasy of his father- his real father treating him in the same way.

He wanted to get a similar smile- he wanted his father to teach him spells with the eagerness Tom Riddle asked him questions.

There was a part of him nestled deep and scorned inside of him crying for affection. There was a larger part of his bare being that ached for some sort of acknowledgement or recognition from his father.

He knew the diary would be the key to it as well.

The Mandrakes worked perfectly, everyone who had been petrified awoke in confusion.

It was a celebratory moment, until Hermione and those frozen were informed of the single death. They too then joined the funeral parade, never ceasing and wandering without an end in sight.

The Hogwarts Express was a gloomy thing, although people were excited to travel home. Relieved and hoping for the small shred of safety.

Lutain was moping, bemoaning about how long he would have to wait to talk with Adalonda again.

Adrian was excited for the next year as well, he had a feeling it would be very eventful. Not that he hadn't learned or accomplished a lot this year, in contrast to the year prior it was as if he had an epiphany.

The winter holidays, the persistent fear others expressed, Adalonda-

(Ginny's red hair darkened when wet, and in the poor lighting of the Chamber one could easily mistake it for blood pooling out from her throat.)

Adrian flinched boldly, smacking his head against the chilled glass window and startling Lutain from his musings.

"Master?" Lutain asked quietly, "Thing's won't be the same anymore, are they?"

Adrian stroked one finger down Lutain's head, "No, no they won't be."

The diary in his pocket burned.

Bellatrix could tell the moment Adrian walked into the house that something had changed.

Adrian held himself differently; he altered suddenly between hunching and barely mumbling to arching his back proudly and gazing at her with a cold had his wand wrapped with white knuckles and sent off spells before Bellatrix could launch a curse.

Rabastan noticed as well, and informed Rodolphus who hadn't been around enough to notice.

Adrian relished in his newfound freedom in the security of the wards. He practiced spells, spells Bellatrix had never heard before and spells which fumbled awkwardly from Adrian's mouth like he had only read them.

Adrian was growing distant. He was slowly and surely separating himself and relying less on Bellatrix. It hurt her in small pangs, a part of her cried out. She missed the sparring, the exhilarating laughter Adrian always gave when he had finally bested her. He missed hearing him chuckle under his breath from something his snake whispered in foreign tongue.

She knew that eventually he would be taken from her, yet she longed for more time.

Adrian approached her with cold eyes and curtly ordered her to take him to his father.

And then, she knew that time had run out.

Adrian walked through the halls with silent shoes and a fluttering cloak.

His occlumency walls were hardened, strengthened with the steely ability of the diary. It influenced his abilities, it snuck into his mind and made his thoughts shrouded and protected.

He opened the large doors, hearing them click behind him; this time he felt no fear.

"Father," Adrian addressed, words sliding from his tongue thick as honey as he approached and bowed, "I have a gift for you."

He pulled the diary from his pocket, securing it in his hold as he walked forward and placed it gently on the table directly in front of the skeletal creature.

He felt his father's surprise- just as he could always feel from the diary. Something sour and sulfuric that tickled the furthest portion of his mind.

"I hope it to be of service," Adrian spoke again, bowing low and smiling crookedly although it was unseen through his hair.

In his rare confidence and pride over his success, he smugly stated "It told me it would be."

He wasn't cursed, so he left.

Nagini greeted him, the real serpent. She was excited to see him, wanting to know his ventures in the 'Stone-den'. He mentioned Adalonda and suddenly he was pinned under her mighty bulk, demanding to know what she had spoken.

He smiled, and explained the beauty of her eyes and the wisdom of her words.

Bellatrix seemed to be fueled by an unnoticed fire. She constantly searched for Adrian under the guise of teaching him new spells.

She gifted him books, marked with broken quills where specific pages had information of interest.

Adrian was rather overwhelmed, although he understood it on a basic level.

He was older (although only twelve) he was of age where his father was beginning to take a special interest in him. Not only that, but he had heard the bare whispers from Bellatrix and Nagini that his father was planning to undergo an elaborate ritual, using the diary to restore himself to power.

Adrian knew that his father had succeeded when he saw all three of the resident wizards crumple to the ground clutching their forearm in pain.

Bellatrix was ecstatic, yet her normal chaotic energy was tainted by a melancholy she tried to veil. Adrian felt impassive- would his father accept him and take him under his wing? Or would Bellatrix continue to be his authority figure and teacher until he was older still?

Regardless of Adrian's own insecurities, the appearance of his father only swarmed the past followers to his feet once more.

Bellatrix hushed him and ordered him to wear his prized cloak, enchanted and charmed to keep his features shrouded from prying eyes. There was nothing to be done about his height, although various magical creatures and magical ailments could excuse such size.

The halls were filled with masked bodies and hidden eyes, each filling the large banquet room Adrian had never seen. It was elaborate, tall stained glass windows displayed the fading twilight in hues of deep lavender and scarlet.

His father stood tall, and his features were garish and horrifying.

This was what Bellatrix referred to as powerful? The serpentine creature bore a striking resemblance to a cobra, a folded reptilian hood pressed to the sides of his throat and shoulders. His father had lost all semblance of a nose, his face having been warped into the serpentine planes of scales and slitted nostrils. Around the edges of what should have been cheekbones, pitted grooves eerily similar to Nagini's heat sensing pits surveyed the room.

His eyes were the darkest red Adrian had ever seen, his body exuded dark magic like the finest perfume.

"My followers," He spoke, his voice layered with a high pitched hiss similar to his previous vessel's vocal capabilities, "how long, we have waited."

Adrian shifted nervously, sticking embarrassingly close to Bellatrix's robes.

"For the days you have all hid," his father's eyes flashed as his lipless mouth articulated the words smoothly, "uncertainly in your estates and in the comfort of your gold." he sneered loudly, aura pulsating in rhythm to a heartbeat, "the loyal, will be rewarded."

He said nothing for those who hadn't been.

"Go, my followers," Voldemort smiled, showing the barest traces of a forked tongue, "Await my instructions further, do not fail me."

The room bowed, Adrian stumbling to follow along with the movement. His father stood, sweeping across the floor and through a door further behind where he had stood upon a platform.

"Come along," Bellatrix murmured under her breath, "We are to speak with our Lord after all have left."

Adrian gave a short nod, reaching to fiddle with the hood on his cloak yet mindful that it not fall. Slowly so slowly, the room cleared. Rabastan and Rodolphus left them, throwing a cautious look from under their bone masks, a warning to keep Adrian from being harmed extensively.

Bellatrix of course ignored them as well as any maternal instinct she may have had. Her fingers grasped Adrian shoulder to steer them towards the door standing terrifyingly tall.

The door opened under Bellatrix's hand; Nagini reared in anticipation on the other side.

"Hello Nagini," Bellatrix cooed, "How pretty your scales are."

Nagini flickered her tongue, "You do not have Lutain?" Nagini seemed disappointed, "We were talking of the best rats."

"I wasn't sure how he would be received, I didn't want any unfortunate accidents." Adrian explained, more relaxed in the presence of the giant snake.

"Master keeps all of noble kind under protection," Nagini dismissed, "Bring Lutain more. His strike is fast but mine is faster."

Adrian smiled, "It is, you can down formidable prey, I hear. Can you actually eat a dog?"

Nagini's tail tip wriggled excitedly as she flickered her tongue hungrily.

"Is she going to show us where to go?" Bellatrix blinked, having been oblivious to the entire conversation.

"Yes, loud-lady." Nagini sighed, sounding exasperated, "Yes Master says to show you the way. Come, clumsy loud-lady."

Adrian almost smiled as Nagini sunk to the ground and propelled herself over the stone with her powerful body.

They moved into a waiting room, a balcony with a short series of stairs ascending towards it. Descending down the very steps, an unfamiliar man with dark hair walked.

"Bellatrix," The man said, his voice smooth and polished with poise and confidence, "I see you have brought the boy."

The man turned partially , revealing a thin nose, sculpted cheeks and dark hair framing deep scarlet eyes with the barest traces of slitted pupils.

Only through staring at mirrors and his own face could Adrian hastily recognize the man.

"Father," Adrian addressed breathily, unable to keep the baffled expression from his face. He hastily lowered his hood, revealing his own features.

His father stared at him, and Adrian hastily stumbled into a bow, not entirely sure what else could be expected of him at the time. Nagini stared unnervingly even as his father walked closer to survey him better.

His father blinked slowly, and looked at Bellatrix who had an eager expression set on her pouting lips.

"Bellatrix, I have an assignment for you." Voldemort explained, reaching into his robe pocket to retrieve a roll of parchment, "A specific ministry worker is pending an act which enables the lawful ability to evict those of creature blood from employment."

Bellatrix took the parchment delicately, holding it with reverence and respect.

"The law would create tension in several of our werewolf packs, as well as the vampire clans," His father sniffed in disdain, an expression of annoyance so positively human it baffled Adrian for a moment. "it is imperative the worker disappears as well as all mention of the law in question."

"Yes, my Lord!" She gushed, dropping to the floor to humbly kiss his father's robes, "Anything you ask!"

"You," Voldemort addressed Adrian, "will be residing in the room created for your occupancy."

Adrian had a room? When had such a thing been set up for him?

"Once you return, you may retrieve the boy." Voldemort elaborated further, adressing Bellatrix who pawed animalistically at his father's feet "fetch the Lestranges for aid."

"Yes my Lord!" Bellatrix gushed, "We will not fail you!"

Adrian gulped as Bellatrix backed away and apparated suddenly, leaving him alone with the tall handsome man who bore a striking resemblance to Adrian's own face.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, long pale fingers tapping against the white wand in his grasp.

"Master," Nagini hissed, butting her blunt snout against the unoccupied pale hand, "Hatchling said I could have a dog."

Voldemort leisurely stroked her head, scratching just under the ridge of her jaw, "did he?"

Adrian trembled slightly, and the barest hints of a smirk formed on Voldemort's face.

"Who am I to resist such a beautiful creature," Voldemort hissed, receiving a low rumble of pleasure from his familiar.

He twisted his wand, and from the air alone, conjured a poodle.

Nagini nearly trilled in excitement, lunging at the canine and coiling around its body with muscles as thick as a grown man's thigh.

"Ditty will show you to your room," Voldemort sighed, "don't interfere with my work, boy. Understand?"

Adrian stumbled out a quick, "Yes, father."

Thankfully, he would only have to wait until Bellatrix returned.

Days passed, weeks passed, and Adrian felt melancholy and the bitter humor that was his life claw through his bones.

'Bellatrix will come back soon,' He assured himself anxiously.

Bellatrix never did.

Chapter Text

Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers were taken into custody by the British Ministry of Magic, for countless acts of terrorism and extensive use of illegal Dark Arts.

They were served a life sentence in Azkaban, and their estate seized by the government as evidence for a nonexistent trial. The information was passed along to Adrian's father almost immediately due to his ministry ties. The public was quick to celebrate.

Word of the arrest spread faster than the court issued search warrant. Adrian was able to call upon the Lestrange house elves and order them to remove everything of Adrian's from the building. There was to be no proof or sign that Adrian existed.

From there, evidence had to remain to suggest that the house was actually being lived in; beds had to remain unkempt, the questionably edible cake Bella had made earlier that day sat out untouched, and the training room still messy from the blasting curses and burn marks.

Lutain appeared in the hands of a terrified House Elf. The magical creature nearly screamed as it practically flung Lutain towards the bed. The bed was the only spot in Adrian's room that wasn't magically being filled with boxes and random knick-knacks.

"Master?" Lutain grumbled, disoriented and confused with the sudden change as well as his sudden flight through the air, "Where are we, Master?"

Adrian grabbed Lutain and rapidly began to slide his fingers down the soft scales behind his neck. The action was repeated, over and over as the room began to fill with books and trunks. The longer he spent tracing the scales and belly plates of his closest friend, the more relaxed he became. He was finally able to fight and dispel the rising nausea.

"Master?" Lutain was alarmed, seeing as the stack of trunks began to include the trunks of dark artifacts Bella had obtained over the years. That along with Adrian's uncharacteristic behaviour was starting to alarm the serpent.

"Master where is the witch?" Lutain asked, nearly flailing to break free from Adrian's grip.

"Bellatrix has been captured," Adrian choked out hoarsly, "and imprisoned for life. We're going to live here, with Nagini and my father."

Lutain stilled, looking at Adrian with the reptilian version of confusion, "Live here? Den-mates with Nagini?"

Adrian smiled softly and stroked Lutain's chin and the small bulges of his jaw muscles, "She asked about you earlier. She likes you, you know."

Lutain cheered up, looking eager to find his serpentine companion.

Something empty was carving a cavern in Adrian's throat, "I'm glad you have a friend."

The unspoken 'Now that Bella is gone' rang loudly in the silence.

"Oh Master." Lutain sighed, voice conveying pity and sorrow.

"No!" Adrian snapped, standing sharply and knocking the snake off of him. "You said it yourself a long time ago. There's no use having friends when they'll always leave you in the end."

"Master, the witch did not mean to leave you." Lutain argued.

"If she really cared," Adrian snapped out, ignoring the feeling that something was crying inside, "she wouldn't have gotten herself captured."

"Mast-"

"She's just as bad as the Potters!" Adrian spat out, stalking to the door and slamming it on his way out.

The first time Adrian ran into his father, he found the older man in a clearly muggle kitchen.

It was old, equipped with stone countertops but rather rustic stoves and refrigeration. The accessories looked like they hadn't ever been used, leaving Adrian to only guess where the food was actually stored.

His father, holding a half eaten red apple in one hand observed him with a bored expression. It was unsettling, mostly because Adrian had the mental image of some horrific pale creature resembling the mandrake root body his father had inhabited before.

Seeing his father looking so positively normal was a sort of terror unique to itself that somehow was more horrific than even a face mauled by werewolf claws.

And as such, Adrian froze in the doorway feeling his entire body go cold.

"Well?" The older man sighed, voice tinged with annoyance, "are you going to stand there all day?"

Adrian mechanically walked into the kitchen and quietly sat on a chair.

His father eyed him critically and bit the apple again. The crunching sound drew an instinctive flinch from the boy.

The crimson eyes were terrifying, they unnerved him and watched his every move as his hands curled into fists under the table.

"You're so terrified," his father dryly stated, somehow sounding pleased with the arrangement.

"It seems, that I owe you gratitude for returning my diary to myself."

Adrian's head jerked around and watched in bafflement as his father snatched a plate of tarts from somewhere hidden. Voldemort walked over, setting the glass platter onto the table with a loud clatter. The tarts shook slightly, almost bouncing off of the gilded surface.

The tall figure slid into the chair opposite of Adrian and arched one expressive eyebrow into an inquisitive look. Adrian timidly reached out and selected one of the flaking pastries from the dish. His father didn't look any more pleased but he didn't look insulted either, Adrian assumed he was in the clear.

"I was informed of your progress, prior to Bellatrix's...absence," Voldemort's nose wrinkled in distaste, "I've been led to believe you are adequate with spellwork."

Adrian wisely didn't respond.

His father cleanly placed the remaining apple core on the table between then, just shy of the pastries. "Burn it."

Adrian swallowed and let the bubbling rush drag through his body in a dissociated exhale. His vision warped, tunneling slightly as the apple smoldered a pathetically wispy plume of white smoke. It thickened slightly, before sputtering pathetically.

Adrian felt like he was on the edge of desperation. If he couldn't satisfy his father, then it was likely that he would be disposed of.

He needed it to burn. From that desperation and incentive something in Adrian's skull squeezed his brain just so; the apple burst alight with a shimmering orange flame.

He watched the fire burn and char the remnants of the apple until it was a shriveled thing. It proved a distraction to avoid the man sitting across the table from him- until he felt strong fingers grasp his jaw and force his head upright.

At once the fire ceased, and he found himself inhaling sharply at the sight of the deep scarlet irises surrounding oval pupils. It was an uncanny reminder of the events in the chamber, which his father also grabbed his jaw and observed his face for resemblance. This time though, the scarlet eyes were not surveying his features. They were locked with mesmerizing force on his own eyes and searing into his memory.

He felt a buzzing in his skull as his mental barriers were nearly obliterated. They were pathetic, even with the pride that Adrian had felt with their construction.

Adrian was breathing heavily as he felt sharp needles stab into varying levels of his consciousness. A low tingling buzz near his spine warped with the sensation of an Eagle's quill jamming just behind his left eye.

He could feel a low whimper slip from his mouth as the thorny presence withdrew from his mind; the scarlet eyes broke contact and left Adrian reeling and withholding tremors.

He could tell his father was disturbed over something; he could tell in that small portion back in his skull which always instinctively told him how his father felt.

Then, metaphorically before his eyes, the presence of his father's emotions retracted.

"Fascinating," His father murmured under his breath, glancing off at a point past Adrian's left ear. His father lifted a long pale finger, pressing it to his own temple to heighten concentration. The dark eyes flickered back to Adrian who quickly looked away.

Adrian kept searching in his mind, navigating around the wreckage of his occlumency walls to investigate the portion which felt numbingly separated.

Then it opened, unveiling like an eyelid to stare into the ruins of Adrian's mind. With an absence of subtly or caution, something intruded with searing black limbs from it. Squirming limbs of a thousand octopus' grasping and reaching and touching.

Adrian gasped outright, collapsing heavily against his chair as the sensation of cold water filled his skull. It was spreading, filling him and leaving jaw chattering tremors in its grasps.

He was torn away from his own eyes, his vision darkening as his mind separated from his own sense of sight and sound. He was wrapped and entangled in the confines of something long and nimble; endless with no distinction between head, body, and tail.

The thing hissed something wordless and without meaning. It tightened, stealing his withheld breath and caressing his flesh like a dementor's grasp.

Then it was retracting slowly and leaving Adrian alone.

Adrian gasped something discourteously and blinked.

His eyes somehow recovered from their blindness. He was once again aware of his own body and how his limbs had spasmed and curled in. He pried his limbs away from where he had hunkered into a fetal position on the chair. He jolted his head upwards from the strange position it had been holding. He didn't remember holding his neck so stiffly during the...

"None of that," His father hushed without kindness, voice loud against the pulsing in his head.

Adrian swallowed and shakily wiped aside the tears that cascaded down his cheeks. His hands were curling tightly into his trousers, the knuckles burning with the intensity of his grasp. Water brushed down his cheeks in a tickling sensation, dripping from his chin onto the polished floor. He was crying- in front of his father...

"Those muggles," the elder mused, voice sharp and cutting in the air.

"The...Dursely family?" His father asked out loud although his tone was entirely rhetoric.

"Don't hurt them." Adrian's voice was automatic, he paled once he realized his flaw, "I- I meant please, Father."

His father had a frown curling on his lips. His eyes seemed to glow and once again Adrian felt himself quivering.

"How long have you had access to my mind?"

Adrian's eyes widened in shock and noticeable confusion. "I...What?"

In return, the presense in his mind made itself noticeable once more with a pulsing flare. It almost echoed a heartbeat, slower and deeper than Adrian's own fluttering.

"That?" Adrian asked, voice nearly a whisper as he felt it leave a soothing sting in its wake, like the burn of hot water after a bitter cold.

"Always," Adrian tried to speak firmly, mentally criticising himself as his voice cracked uncomfortably partway through.

His father frowned, displeased with his answer.

"Always?"

Adrian was right, he was displeased.

"I take it Bellatrix didn't place the chalice in your room, then."

Chalice? What chalice?

"No," Voldemort scoffed, blinking quickly in thought while a thin finger tapped against his lips.

"Perhaps... boy."

Adrian's head snapped around to stare at his father once more.

The man drew his wand this time, and Adrian couldn't help but flinch away from the dangerous weapon.

The wand slowly pointed at his face, carressing his jaw and cheekbone before resting on the bridge between his eyes and eyebrows.

Eyes once more locked together.

Red met green.

His father bit out, "Legilimens."

Adrian struggled to consciousness with the exhaustion of spending an all day awake. His head throbbed and he felt like something was compressing his chest.

No, something was compressing his chest. Something long and somewhat chilled.

"Master!" Lutain hissed excitedly, sliding his way over and onto Adrian's chest, "You are awake!"

"Get off me Lutain," Adrian slurred, blinking awake exhaustedly and knocking aside his excited serpent, "My head is killing me,"

"Likely due to the hour I spent unravelling the lamentable shields you called Occlumency."

Adrian jolted awake, recognizing the voice neither as Lutain or Nagini. He struggled to right himself, pressing his back flush to the wooden headboard.

His father was sitting in a chair, reading a book near the foot of the bed. The book closed with a clatter. It was thrown onto the bed near Adrian's feet.

"They would jeopardize your work at Hogwarts," his father drawled, a small smirk playing on his lips, "A greeting gift, from father to son."

Adrian blinked in confusion and in slight amusement at how awkwardly the words sounded. He had no idea what the man meant.

What gift? The book? Adrian couldn't read the cover from where it landed upside down. It looked old and well beyond his own reading level.

If not the book, what else did the man mean?

Adrian poked around in his mind, preparing to scrape over the mess of his walls- before brushing against something secure and strong.

"How-" Adrian blurted out without thinking, testing the barriers; they were more impressive than anything he could cumulatively structure over years.

"It seems that there is a connection between us," his father explained regally and politely, "a passageway from my mind, to yours."

"You felt true feelings, Master!" Lutain enthused, butting his snout against Adrian's arm excitedly, "You spoke true! Not yours but felt!"

"Indeed, he is rather observant," his father slipped into Parseltongue easily while holding one arm out for Lutain to coil through the fingers.

"Remarkable for his age." His father admitted after a slight pause, not bothering to look at Adrian as he complimented him.

"Silly hatchling," Lutain agreed, flexing his body between the nimble fingers.

Adrian wanted to grab his familiar and pull him from the older man's arm.

"The shields will last against that headmaster of yours. Of course, I'll make sure they're still operating on a regular schedule. Be sure not to challenge him directly, it will only arise suspicion as to why yours are now so advanced."

"Will you be entering my mind again, Father?" Adrian scraped out hoarsely, bowing his head to appear as humble as he possibly could in the situation.

"None of that," his father scowled, crossing his leg over his knee.

"You are not a servant."

"I..." Adrian's breathing stuttered and left him awkwardly pausing in the middle of his thought.. He wasn't a servant? He had been led to believe he would become a Death Eater once he had matured enough to partake in raids.

"You're my heir," his father explained stiffy, "My followers are expendable. You, are not."

Adrian's mouth fell open quietly in shock.

"You are to be raised as a weapon," Voldemort continued, swiping his hand to adjust his dark hair from his eyes.

"A weapon-"

"But, given recent information that has now presented itself, that has changed."

Adrian looked at the equally baffled Lutain.

"You are to be trained," Voldemort continued as if Adrian understood everything he was saying, "Originally Bellatrix was to be your teacher. Given her absence and your new position, I shall be your teacher."

Lutain tensed, staring at Adrian with resignation.

"You?" Adrian nearly whispered out, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination.

Voldemort stood, glancing back at Adrian with some sort of amusement, "I would not kill something precious to me."

Adrian echoed back the word in a considerably higher pitch, "Precious?"

Voldemort smiled something wicked, and left the room. Adrian could have sworn that his father's eyes glowed.

Adrian hit the ground painfully with a crunching rattle that vibrated through his left shoulder.

The curse soared over his head, leaving him safe for only a moment. Adrian scrambled to his feet, already attempting to run to avoid the next flying spell.

Each spell was lazily flung at him; nothing difficult yet obviously the caster was enjoying himself.

"Incendio," He heard the voice loudly drawl, a pathetic first year spell just to spite him. Adrian yelped as a plume of fire nearly incinerated him, something impossibly strong for a first year spell. Adrian almost doubted that it even was that spell, even as he heard it cast.

"Aguamenti," Adrian gasped out, hacking from the sudden soot in the air. The water collided upwards to snuff out a small portion of the flame. It hissed angrily, erupting in a dark plume of steam

The fire... Adrian couldn't see anything through the inferno. It meant that his attacker wouldn't be able to either.

Adrian's eyesight tunneled and his vision flickered. He swooned, nearly collapsing as his head ached against the painful pressure. He coughed, nearly rolling into the movement which transformed into a dry retch. The ground around him sparked and flared with heat, adding to the stifling temperatures.

"Come on," He breathed exhaustedly, swallowing harshly against bile as his magic fluttered and the flames began to falter, "Come on,"

They grew, dancing around him in a careful circle of fire, concealing him and protecting him in the middle of the blaze.

He released the nauseating pressure, allowing the tongues to lick the floor hungrily; he keeled and braced his arms on his knees for a moment to catch his breath.

"Alright," he whispered under his breath, trying not to cough as he struggled to focus- where had all the spells been coming from?

He pointed his wand in the desired location, and with as much hope and blind luck he could feel at the moment, whispered the spell he had learned from Theo.

"Langlock," He casted, seeing the nearly invisible spell shoot off and counted to three.

The flames lowered like a curtain dropping and Adrian felt himself beam as his father glared at him, tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.

He was too exhausted to laugh but he felt the bubble of hysterical glee press on his chest. He felt winded and exhilarated from finally getting higher ground...

Then he felt winded for real, as the air from his lungs suddenly was yanked out.

Adrian's eyes bulged and he fell to the ground, hands clawing at his throat as he gasped soundlessly. Almost at once, the sensation left; his father waved a contorted hand over his face, silently casting the counter spell.

"You forget that you are not unique in your ability to cast wandless and wordless magic." His father explained calmly, eyes almost flickering in the reflections of the surviving embers decorating the floor.

Adrian grinned silently, "Doesn't mean I didn't get you." He wheezed, his throat burning from the effort.

His father flicked his wand without even looking, accurately sending a minor stinging hex. Adrian yelped and hissed in pain once it hit; his shoulder throbbed mutedly from his botched dive for the ground once the blaze started.

"Why didn't you shield?" his father asked critically, looking him over for major injuries while absentmindedly conjuring two chairs.

"I wanted to dodge, make a distraction instead," Adrian shrugged with one shoulder, already feeling that his tactic was lacking. His father gave a heavy sigh, as if he too had assumed Adrian's strategy would be ridiculous.

Adrian used his forearms to pull himself upwards, clambering over to settle into the conjured chair with a small grimace.

"Evasion is not a reliable tactic," Voldemort scoffed although his tone made it seem that he had repeated that phrase to others often.

Adrian shrugged, keeping his head low and relying on how much his father hated when he stewed.

"That's not the real reason," Voldemort spoke lowly, although not as threateningly as he was well capable of. The man ran one of his long pale hands through his hair, shifting the bluish strands to rest behind his ear.

Adrian checked his shields to assure himself that they were still in tact. He still knew better than to flat out lie to the man, plus it was unlikely he would be cursed for simply not having been taught.

"I can't cast it," Adrian muttered under his breath, admiting the truth although not being especially happy about it.

"Bellatrix never taught me to shield." Adrian elaborated once his Father pulled his hands up to rest them under his chin in a long suffering look of annoyance.

"She likes to have her targets run like headless chickens" Adrian almost smiled at how pinched his father's voice sounded. Obviously he had problems with a similar tactic before, although he still spoke of Adrian's mother figure fondly.

"Then we'll have to teach you. Come."

"What... now?" Adrian gaped, stumbling to his feet whereas his father gracefully rose, "I...I don't know an incantation-"

"I'll show you," Voldemort stared at Adrian as if his child had said something momentously idiotic, which, Adrian considered, he likely had.

"The incantation is protego," his father instructed, drawing his wand before flicking his wand and summoning the whitish shield spell insanely quickly.

"I..." Adrian elegantly articulated around how fat his tongue felt in his mouth. He struggled to recall what he had just seen, as well as what he had heard. After using wandless magic, his head always pounded like there was a Manticore loose in his skull.

"Watch," his father sighed yet repeated the action considerably slower. He didn't seem as irritated as he led on, in fact, Adrian suspected the man actually liked teaching

Voldemort casted the spell once again, performing it in careful slow motion of the actual process. Adrian knew casting any sort of spell in such a slowed state actually was more difficult than normal casting. Of course, if anyone could do it, it would be him.

Once, twice, three times more until he lowered his wand and looked at Adrian expectantly.

"Er..." Adrian stumbled, pulling out his Holly and Phoenix feather wand he used only inside the house and out of public eye.

"Protigo-"

"Pro-Tay-go," his father repeated, nodding for Adrian to continue.

"Protego." Adrian corrected himself, trying to flick his wand in the semi circular movement his father had executed before. It was awkward and jerky in his grasp.

They repeated it for a long period of time, until the pounding in Adrian's head was reaching a crescendo.

His father was actually a very good teacher, Adrian knew he made much more progress than he would have otherwise.

By the time Adrian was panting and bracing his head between his knees protectively and the ground was swirling ever so slightly from his small vantage point, he could summon the barest film of a protective barrier.

A considerable improvement.

He found himself actually looking forward to the next dueling practice.

Chapter Text

Skylar hated wearing the black suit, designed off of muggle clothing yet incorporated into classic wizarding clothing. It was soft and smooth, woven with cooling charms since Skylar wore it every year. At least, every year for the past four years.

The fabric was imbued with the scent of lavender and the barely there trace of poppy. Skylar never knew that poppy had a smell but now it was overwhelming.

Skylar exhaled through his nose slowly, peering at his reflection in the mirror quietly. He watched numbly as his reflection moved to button up the highest button on his shirt, leaving him composed and clean.

He walked out of his room, slowly moving down the stairs towards the front sitting room where he knew his mother would be fussing over a perfect bouquet of flowers. Icelandic poppies, thin tissue paper petals in almost every color Skylar could imagine.

"Oh," his mother exhaled while her mouth twisted into a teary eyed smile, "are you ready to go?"

Skylar nodded slightly, tugging on the worn cuffs on each sleeve.

"Your father sent word earlier, he and Sirius are just about done over there."

Skylar already knew this, but he nodded quietly as the two walked out of their safeguarded house and past the elaborate wards to the Apparation zone. They vanished in a sharp twist that was nothing for Skylar after Quidditch and years of experience.

The summer sky was unusually cold, cool and chilled from a recent rain. The ground squished slightly from under his polished shoes. He had the urge to take them off and take off the grey socks and press his toes through the muck.

Crickets and other invests chirped loudly, adding to the lively buzz of a summer field. The sky above was suspiciously clear of clouds, most likely spelled.

It didn't remove the stifling humidity, already Skylar felt sweat gather at the back of his neck. Somewhere over the grass, a red winged blackbird swooped low over the growing corn.

"This way, on the far side of the house." Lily Potter gently nudged her son forward. Skylar began trudging forward, not noticing anything else around them.

There was gentle music, heard before the many chairs and tables came into sight. On the highest rise of the lawn, a half circle of people stood under the sun in uncomfortable clothing all in shades of black.

"Lily!" Someone cried, stumbling down the slight hill to trudge in mud to her side. Mrs. Weasley's face was blotchy and red, eyes bloodshot and filled with misery.

"Molly," Skylar's mother soothed, taking the plump woman into her arms and clinging to her tightly, "I am so sorry."

Molly pulled away, trying to smile and laugh dismissively although it sounded choked and painful.

Two more people slid away from the congregation, sliding down to flank Skylar's sides.

"Hey, come with us, mate." One of the twins urged, giving him a gentle pat on the back. The other looped one arm through his arm and gently tugged him along.

It was surreal, to witness something so quiet and unsettling in broad daylight. Skylar had long since grown used to the sound of his mother crying behind closed doors. To see it in the open was something unreal.

Everything he was seeing was unreal.

The twins led him out of the thickest of people over towards the back steps of the crooked house itself. Over there in the shade, the mugginess was less stifling.

"You want to stay out of that mess, mate." One of them advised, the other plopped down to his other side on the steps, "it's just a bunch of crying. Figured you've had enough of that."

Skylar did, he had enough of that for a lifetime.

"Where's Ron?" Skylar asked, his voice sounding hoarse and croaky even in his own ears.

Fred, Skylar decided, paused and then exhaled heavily, "He's been up in his room. Hasn't come down for days since we started getting the details down."

"Blew a right fit at mum the other day, when she tried to drag him out." George shrugged, the two tricksters looking relatively normal with how depressing the entire situation was.

There was a loud snap in the air as another person arrived to the event, wading from the furthest edge of the field. The headmaster, Skylar could spot him out in a crowd of a thousand people. The aged wizard removed his hat slowly, clutching it to his chest as he bowed his head toward the many murmuring people.

"Surprised he showed up," George noted, seeing the headmaster's arrival.

"Reckon he's been blaming himself over it all." Fred ended with a small click of his tongue.

"Well, he should be." A sour voice growled out from behind the three, accompanied with the rattling noise of the screen door banging shut.

"The troll emerges from his hibernation," Fred bitterly trilled out, George lifting his hands to mimic large floppy ears.

Ron flushed angrily, the red moving all the way past his cheeks to touch his forehead for a surprise.

"How are you two laughing!" He shrieked, voice cracking and instantly killing the mood.

Skylar felt a lump form in his throat as his jaw dropped, he was speechless.

"How can you just...just…" Ron struggled for a word, his lips twisting into a grimace and tears leaked from his eyes, "How can you act like you don't care!"

"Don't you say that," Fred hissed back angrily, George hurrying over to grab his upper arm as a precaution, "Don't you dare say that."

"Well you're laughing and making jokes and and…" Ron's hands flailed, "and acting like Merlin knows-"

"Maybe some of us are trying to help out around here instead of pouting and throwing a fit in their room!" Fred spat out, nearly prickling in his anger, "Great job making mum even sadder, Ronnikins."

Ron looked like he was going to pull his wand and start cursing the twins.

"Stop this," Skylar leapt to his feet, his heart pounding like a hummingbird.

"You!" Ron shouted now directing his anger at Skylar, "Why didn't...why didn't you do something?"

Fred and George leapt forward, "Come on now, Sky here's not guilty of anything."

"He's the Chosen One!" Ron screamed, his voice louder than ever before. "He should have saved my sister!"

The steady murmurs of the group over on the hill trailed off painfully quiet. Skylar was all too aware of the many eyes locked on his body. The black formal clothes felt tighter, like he was being constricted.

"Ron, I…" Skylar trailed off as he felt the itchiness of tears nearly overwhelm him. His throat hurt and his hands were shaking at his side.

"Ignore him, mate," Fred advised sourly, glaring angrily at Ron.

Ron was right, Skylar should have saved her.

"No, he's right." Skylar was whispering, not noticing the other adults start to draw closer and prevent the imminent fight, "I... I should have done something."

"Yeah you should have," Ron hissed out angrily, tears cascading down his blotchy face although he didn't wipe them away, "You killed her!"

Skylar flinched as if he had been struck.

"Ron!" Someone older belted out, brushing past Skylar and the twins with an expression of fury. "This is not the time."

The older Weasley, Charlie, Skylar recognized from the age and slightly puckered burn scar on his neck, grabbed Ron's upper arm and started to drag him back inside the house.

"You killed her!" Ron screamed, thrashing in Charlie's grip as he glared and sobs shook his small body, "You killed her!"

Skylar felt someone rotate him by his shoulder and without looking he sobbed into the chest of whoever it was. He felt another body at his back, successfully muffling the noise of Ron's shrieking and isolating him from the outside.

"Is everything okay over here?" Mr. Weasley spoke, placing one hand on each of the twins. From the securing circle the two boys made, Skylar's sobs could faintly be heard.

"Fine," George clipped out, glaring at the general vicinity of where Charlie had dragged Ron inside, "We're gonna take little Sky out back to calm down a bit."

James Potter arrived, running lightly over the lawn with a flushed worried expression. The murmurs from the direction of the tables began rising once again, filling the air with the sound of chatter.

"Everything alright?" James asked concerned, looking inside the protective dome with paternal instincts.

"Sounds like Ron had a bit of an outburst, James." Mr. Weasley sighed, running both hands into his tired eyes, "The boys are going to take him around back, maybe to look at the chickens."

James gave a slight nod and looked at the two twins with a sorrowful look.

"Head up, boys," He smiled grimly, ruffling their hair with a small exhale, "It gets better."

The two adults walked off, ignoring the disgusting squelching of grass and mud. The twins held Skylar close, watching the house and windows for movement before they retracted their arks carefully.

"Sky? Mate?" The one asked, peering at the blubbering twelve year old cautiously, "We're going to head around back for a bit, look at some chickens and imagine they're Ron."

Skylar smiled slightly against his will and he nodded slightly into whoever's shirt he had essentially soiled. He let it go, wiping his face and nose quickly to dispel the disgusting amounts of snot.

Each twin took a hand, and between the two they swung his arms ridiculously in such a way Skylar found himself smiling despite the gloom. They made their way carefully around the house, approaching the coop where several hens clucked curiously.

Skylar instantly went to the hutch, opening the hatches to peer at the startled birds who observed him with nervous glances.

Fred poked around, scaring the bird away as he retrieved an egg. It was light brown, speckled slightly around the top.

With no grace or hesitation, he smacked it over George's head. The latter spluttered, reaching upwards to investigate the yellow yolk which dripped down his nose.

Skylar laughed, an ugly gasping noise but it was a laugh nonetheless.

George sniffed and reached into the opened latch, grabbing a bird and throwing it right at Fred who fell backwards at the flailing hen.

Skylar laughed again, this time the sound was almost peals of laughter bordering on hysteria.

The twins looked at each other in relief, before flopping onto the ground. Thankfully, nearest the coop the ground was still dry, if only a bit dusty.

Skylar settled down near them, playing with strands of grass through the holes in the wire. The hens approached curiously, pecking at small ants or at the strands of grass Skylar poked through.

"He's right," Skylar spoke, voice quiet in the silence of the summer sky, "that I killed her."

Fred glanced at George quickly, "No, mate that isn't your fault."

"Yeah, even Dumbledore tried looking for the Chamber. It's been gone for centuries, you couldn't have found it."

"No, not that." Skylar felt something bubble inside his chest, under his ribs and above his heart, "I- I've killed people."

"No you haven't." The two boys spoke at once, synchronizing accidently yet still sounding firm.

"I have!" Skylar protested, voice warbling into a shriek as tears cascaded down his face. The relative calm he had crafted shattered brokenly with his words.

"No, no mate." Fred argued sternly, grasping the smaller boy and holding him close with one arm.

"You did your best, and you were a good friend." George added with only a little wavering of his own voice, "Gin really liked you."

Skylar shook his head, the tears and his movement distorted his vision as words bubbled from his lips and everything he had kept so private was unraveling under his fingertips. "No no no…"

George glanced at Fred with barely disguised fear and frantic desperation.

"I killed her," Skylar sobbed, hands rising to clutch his hair between shaking palms, "I've killed her and...And I didn't mean to and now she's dead."

Fred patted Skylar unsure, buckling as the younger boy twisted and collapsed heavily against him. The chickens clucked unconcerned and pecked at the dropped strand of grass.

"You couldn't have done anything," Fred shushed, speaking lowly even as his body soon shook gently in his own grief, "you couldn't have done anything and Merlin knows everyone tried."

Skylar braced his head in Fred's chest and screamed.

George didn't say anything but looked very much that he wanted to join in.

"I'm so sorry," Skylar bawled, voice barely comprehendible, "I...I didn't mean to."

Fred rubbed his back in a way he hoped was soothing, looking blankly at the feathered birds.

Skylar pulled back aggressively, jolting upright as he furiously rubbed at his face, "It's not fair, people die for me and it's not fair."

"Sky…" George started, only to be cut off with Skylar's watery eyed glare.

"No! First...first Harry and now Ginny and…" Skylar shook his head, hunkering his shoulders as his hands pressed harshly into his eyes.

"Harry?" Fred tentatively asked, not familiar with anyone who Skylar knew and was familiar with to be on a nickname with.

Skylar sobbed openly, "and...and we never found his body either."

"Who's Harry?" Fred asked gently, recognizing that somehow this other name was tied in to Skylar's deteriorated state.

The boy in question peered up at both of them, face skewed and pinched in an expression of pain as he bubbled out between shaking lips, "He...he was my brother."

The twins froze in fascination, confusion, and mutual grief.

"He…" Skylar shook, struggling to think through the hazy fog of mourning, "It wasn't safe, and...and we sent him to be w-with my cousins…"

Fred and George felt a chill down their arms; the unsettling knowledge that they shouldn't be listening to this.

"We only left him for a couple years, because there were wizards after us," Skylar sniffled, steadily growing calmer the longer he talked. The more the words spilled out the faster Skylar's voice broke the air; the more horrified the twins listened.

"And, and we went back, and my cousins were gone. Just…" Skylar lifted one shaking hand, shaped in a fist. He opened it suddenly, revealing nothing and exhaling quietly, "Poof."

"Sky…" Fred started, rubbing Skylar's shoulders unsure. Skylar shook his head determined, his tremors lessening as he stared at the chickens almost angrily.

"No, no I...I need to talk." Skylar argued intently, "I...we looked for him. For months, and...and one of Dumbledore's friends found my cousin's family outside Glasgow."

Skylar sniffed quietly and a small breeze ruffled through the humid air.

"I...they didn't say, but I overheard when they thought I was sleeping. They said that Bellatrix Lestrange got to them." Skylar whispered quietly, blinking rapidly against his will, "Mum went bonkers."

"Bellatrix, that bitch will get what's coming to her." George spat out, eyes narrowing in fury towards the idea of the witch, "Azkaban's too nice for her."

Skylar nodded slightly, faintly smiling as if the idea amused him, "Dad's been working since, trying to get her off the streets. He can finally breathe now that they got her."

Fred swallowed and looked across the fields, the swaying of the corn and the bright glare of the sun. "I'm sorry about your brother."

"I'm sorry about your sister." Skylar countered sharply.

Fred shrugged, rolling one shoulder as if disinterested although Skylar knew better.

"I hope she burns," Skylar whispered quietly, "does that make me a bad person?"

"Of course not," George assured him quietly, "It makes you human."

Skylar smiled slightly, not truly seeing as he was trapped in memory.

"I miss him sometimes," Skylar admitted brokenly.

"You should, I bet he was just as reckless as you." Fred teased only halfheartedly.

"No, he liked animals. Would have been a bloody good magizoologist."

"Ginny liked those horses, the winged ones." George admitted quietly.

"Harry would have known every breed, he'd give Newt Scamander a run for his money." Skylar laughed brokenly, smiling as if the idea was perfect, "and he would have had a kneezle, or some rare owl I'd never heard of but he'd pester Dad all about it. And he'd have it flown in from somewhere, like Egypt."

"Egypt has owls?" George asked curiously, smiling faintly as Skylar rolled his eyes.

"What about his classes?" Fred asked quietly, egging Skylar on.

"Oh, he'd be brilliant at Care," Skylar continued, tears lessening as a true smile spread over his face, "he'd be quizzing and asking Hagrid about everything. He was always shy but he always tried to drag Mooney to those ah, traveling creature tours."

"I heard from Charlie about the dragon your first year," George teased with a grin, "I bet he'd have been in on that."

Skylar laughed, a bright peal of laughter that seemed to echo, "Oh Merlin's Beard, he'd be camping out in the hut all night waiting for Norbert to hatch! He never liked Quidditch but he'd be there, at every game in the stands cheering me on." Skylar's smile began to turn wistful, "He should be in the stands."

"Yeah," Fred sighed sourly.

"They both should be."

Chapter Text

"Are you an Animagus?"

Voldemort didn't bother to look up from where he was writing with a black quill, "No. I found the time and commitment needed for such a transformation useless. The inability to select your alternate form presented the chance that the effort would go to something pathetic. I decided to focus my attention on more useful skills."

Adrian bit his tongue and chewed on it slightly. He felt the itching desire to learn more and inquire about what exactly was more important than an Animagus form. His father wasn't wrong, it was still possible Adrian had an entirely useless or pathetic alternate form. He could see where his father was coming from.

"What did you learn instead?" Adrian asked, trying to sound as careless as he could. He knew instantly that he failed when his father glanced at him intently from the corner of his eyes. The red of the iris was breathtaking and intimidating all at once.

A small cruel smile twisted the corner of his face, pupils shifting ever so slightly to something more oval than normal.

"Things far beyond your level of understanding and competence."

Adrian, subdued, nodded and looked back at his book - there were only so many spellbooks he could read over summer break. He was indulging himself with an elaborate book on the habits of Grindylow and Merpeople, creatures commonly misunderstood and often misrepresented, but thankfully, his father had no objections to his interest.

It could be useful, at times, to have trivial facts on vampires or werewolves.

"With your occlumency now, it would be relatively simple to achieve an animagus transformation." His father's lidded eyes did nothing to hide the piercing look behind them."Of course, that would be once your spellwork has reached acceptable performance."

"Of course, father." Adrian smiled slightly, feeling conflictingly at ease and still cautious in the room. His father had the disorienting habit of complimenting him so carefully and verbally backslapping him the next second. It left him nearly dizzy, yet never dispelled the warmth in his stomach and his silent croon at the praise; no matter the insult directly after.

Bellatrix's arrest had only been the start of a wild summer. Initially, Adrian walked as if he was on twigs. He nearly never left his room, when he did he sent Lutain out with him to scout the hallways to assure the boy nobody was there. Adrian had seen the strange fondness his father had for serpents, it seemed to him that Lutain was more safe than he was.

He wasn't sure at the start if his father was as crazy or wild as Bellatrix was. He was the Dark Lord, after all. He might not have been the same wizard who tried to kill him as a baby, but he was still infinitely cunning and capable.

And as it turned out, he was; but in a much more dangerous way than she was.

Bellatrix was an uncontrollable storm, a tornado of chaos and impulsivity with no regard for ramifications. She would injure and then coddle and croon her apologies before inflicting wounds once more. His father...he wasn't like that.

He was worse.

He was honeyed words and careful movements, everything casual and calculated to the degree that Adrian fell he was falling into role of a script.

Adrian tried spontaneity, trying to break the mold he was trapped in. Even trying to surprise the other man only left Adrian stumbling, as if everything he did, his father was already prepared for. It felt that he was stumbling on a frozen stream, no matter which way he turned and walked he only found himself following the cold trail and threatening to slip.

His father didn't hurt him, but the man seemed to know Adrian in a way which left the boy feeling so terribly exposed. The Dark Lord would say barely anything, yet two or three words spoken so calmly had the ability to tear Adrian to shreds or leave him basking in a glow stronger by far than Bellatrix's affection. How Adrian longed for such praise, the simple acts of paternal affection that were followed with such loving lacerations to his heart and flesh, leaving him trembling and crawling on the polished floor.

Nagini was a unique balm that he hadn't anticipated, her heavy bulk and weight felt like the soothing numb of disinfectant in a wound. Assuring and pleasant against the sting, and his instinct to recoil away from it.

Yet it was worth it when his father's eyes nearly shimmered, widening with such surreal light Adrian could swear they would glow in the dark.

He would casually remark about something, a simple observation. And how Adrian hungered desperately to make that observation into praise- into a smile and a proud glance that left his blood singing.

Nagini watched him silently the nights where he was left curled helplessly in a ball. Sometimes he made it to his bed, staining blankets magically cleaned the next day, and sometimes he would be left prone in the training room, wracked with tremors as his body shook to stave off the pain of phantom sensations he couldn't process anymore. She watched over him as a silent protector, a statue on the altar of Adrian's devotion.

Lutain always said that Nagini's scales shone brighter in person; from all the nights he spotted her bulk watching him silently in the dark, Adrian was beginning to agree.

"Master is speaking to guest inside the office." Nagini hissed, lying entangled with his legs in her massive coils, her large head nested near his own. Lutain flicked his tongue companionably, curled around Adrian's right forearm and his pillow.

"Who is it?" Adrian asked, stroking the long forehead of the python.

"The blonde," Nagini hissed, causing Lutain to perk up.

"Spawn of dragon-hatchling?" Lutain lifted his head upward, eyes bright.

"Draco's father?" Adrian blinked in confusion, his hisses faltering, "What is he doing here?"

"Crazy-lady, they want her back."

Adrian nearly sat upright. Bellatrix? They were planning to get Bellatrix back?

Internally he nearly grinned in excitement, and at the same time he was horrified to think that he would be forced to leave. He didn't want to go, he wanted to stay with his father here.

"I wish we knew what they were saying."

"I do." Nagini reared, lifting her weight onto her coils before headbutting Adrian's chest roughly, if still gently for a snake her size. "Self, self?"

"Nagini," Adrian winced and pushed her snout aside. "What are you-"

The tattoo slid out of his skin, flicking its tongue at Nagini, who flickered her tongue back at herself.

"Self." The real Nagini was satisfied, looking at the mark agreeably, "What does Master say?"

The tattoo twisted in acknowledgment and melted under his skin once more. The sensation made Adrian twitch.

How brilliant, he hadn't ever considered something like that before. He knew that the tattoo, the elaborate yet completely legal mark that covered his flesh worked as a messenger between the painting in his father's office and throne room. He hadn't ever considered using it as a spy, a way to learn more information he wasn't privy to.

Yet, was he actually not permitted to know the information? It wasn't him who had suggested the tattoo do it, it was Nagini who had summoned it with an eager butt of her nose. Adrian shouldn't be punished for the action of his familiar, yet something inside him cried out that maybe Nagini had summoned it on purpose. Maybe she was trying to get him in trouble.

No, she liked Lutain too much to go out of her way to try and injure Adrian.

Yet somehow the concept of summoning the tattoo was a little too advanced for her, something that seemed suspiciously beyond her understanding.

It curled and rolled under his flesh, tugging slowly like the uncomfortable feeling of Spell-O-Tape being pulled away from his skin. It tingled and itched like a burn, or a blister starting to peel.

"You're using me like a carrier pigeon." Adrian argued, not enjoying how the python was using his skin.

"I find pigeon," Lutain offered, wriggling excitedly at the prospect of using his own service. Adrian almost smiled at how his familiar tried his best to accommodate his discomfort.

They waited in bated silence for the tattoo to slither back into view. It emerged from his thigh, sliding over a hip before reporting through fanged jaws, "Raid in fall. Azkaban. Crazy-lady free with kin and den-mates, Demen-tears problem."

Adrian smiled and stroked the tattoo appreciative. It was beautiful, yet morbidly nauseating to glance at knowing it was under his body. "Thank you."

It hissed welcomingly before fading away and leaving the three.

They were planning a raid on Azkaban? Fall was still a long time away, and Adrian didn't even know when exactly in fall this would be taking place. In fact, Adrian didn't know anything. He hadn't been told any details.

He was finding out about it from a tattoo.

Adrian knew that his father was aware that he and Bellatrix were close. Wouldn't it be logical for him to include Adrian on the planning to better manage her?

Unless his father didn't want Bellatrix and Adrian to meet or be together.

"We'll have to wait and ask later," Adrian stated the obvious, stroking each of the serpent's scales soothingly. More for himself as his anxiety drifted again.

His insecurities and worries only heightened and intensified as all three drifted in and out of sleep in the afternoon heat.

"Where did my father find you?" Adrian asked, running his hand down Nagini's back once more.

The sun had begun to set, his father had called a meeting which led to the three to be confined to the room.

The light shone through the window in flickering tones of red and orange, lighting across Nagini's scales in bright shimmers, holding tints of deep green between the normal markings. Lutain's own skin, having lightened to an earthy brown for some odd reason, glowed like a smoldering fire from the sun's light. Nagini's awesome bulk was always awe inspiring, yet somehow she didn't quite hold the same beauty Lutain possessed with the changing colours of his dark and brown scales.

"Where found?" Nagini asked, humming lowly and contently from where she curled around Adrian, "In store, near castle."

"Hogwarts?" Adrian blinked in surprise, "You mean the town, Hogsmeade?"

Nagini gave a hum and lazily flicked her tongue against his cheek.

"Well, what else? Did he buy you?"

"Yes, expensive." Nagini coiled lightly on herself, seeming proud of her price. "I was hatchling, small and cold. I spoke and Master heard, and asked me if I would serve him. I said yes and came with."

"Nagini always speak well?" Lutain curled onto his master's chest. It was a good question, Lutain's own vocabulary was painfully simple when Adrian first found him. Nagini was able to hold entire conversations and even use sarcasm on the rare instance.

"No. Master use the magic and I learn the words, he speak and I become." She hissed, mouth opening to menacing proportions if not for her boastful words, "Master make me great."

"You were always strong, my beautiful," The three glanced up at the door where the tall red eyed man slipped past the previously locked doors. "I just offered to you a greater opportunity for your potential."

There was something pointed in the tone, and Adrian knew better than to think it was coincidental. His father had taken Nagini as a hatchling, sheltering her and nurturing her into a beautiful creation of lethal awe. He raised her and tended to her like a poisonous flower, as deadly and as tantalizing as opium from a poppy.

Then what was he, what was Adrian, supposed to be?

(Against his rationality, he felt like a kneezle; so eager to crawl to his feet and begging for his father's praise.)

Lutain had never quite obtaining the level of fear Adrian held for his father, and slithered over eagerly and gazing upwards expectantly.

A small smile graced thin lips as, wordlessly, a small mouse was conjured. Lutain struck it without thought, the mouse shrieking before slowly going still.

Lutain's coils pulsated, struggling to orient the mouse in a posture where the snake could better consume the creature. The rodent flailed, spasming post mortem in a gruesome display as small amounts of blood already dribbled across Lutain's body.

"You have a quick strike." his father mentioned, eyeing the limp mouse and the strangely coloured snake. "An interesting patterning as well."

Lutain peered down at his body, observing the alteration in his colour. From dark black, almost bluish, he had somehow changed in just a series of days to speckled yellow and brown.

"Summer." Lutain offered, twisting and dancing in a signature S to appear more majestic. "It is warm, and summer now."

"Your scales alter with the seasons? Perhaps a lasting warming charm would appeal to you."

Adrian didn't know how to cast a lasting warming charm. He didn't want Lutain to indulge in a spell that he hadn't cast.

Lutain hissed wordlessly, rising as high as he could without falling to the floor. It was an impressive height, just shy of his father's naval.

"Make scales dark?" Lutain hissed curiously, twisting in a cobra-esq dance. "Make strong?"

"Lutain," Adrian choked out, reaching to snatch the dangerous snake away and back onto the bed. Lutain squirmed in Adrian's frantic grasp.

His father watched him with a blank expression. His mouth was twitching into a slight frown, Adrian had no hope for understanding the expression.

"No?" Nagini asked, lifting her body up and resting her head on Adrian's bed once again, "Master make you fast."

"He's fast enough," Adrian snapped out, swallowing once he realized his insolent outburst.

Nagini opened her mouth for protest, only for Voldemort to stroke down her large head, "Silence, my dear. The spell is quite difficult, otherwise I would long ago have taught young Adrian it. I don't believe he possesses the innate ability for such magic, even if he had years to practice."

The words were ambiguous and bordering the line of praise and insult. Adrian felt almost like keening pathetically, fighting the urge to try and show him wrong.

He could, he could practice and he could do that magic, easily!

And yet, he mused on if his father intended for him to give in so easily. Why else would he have phrased it such as that, if not for Adrian to beg him to teach him anyways?

This wasn't about him though, it was about Lutain. He couldn't throw his familiar in the same danger he faced every day. He wouldn't.

It wasn't that he didn't trust his father, the man had done a remarkable job of tending to his wounds and making sure that he was always alright. He just suspected that everything was beyond his control- everything was orchestrated and practiced and no matter what Adrian did he couldn't escape.

By saying no...this was his chance, this was his choice and not his father's.

He didn't want to disappoint his father. He didn't want to hurt Lutain.

He almost felt like crying as suddenly everything was too much, noises were too loud and his ears rang loudly and he felt the tickling urge of hysterical giggles press on his chest anxiously.

"Master?" Lutain looked up, wriggling eagerly.

"Let us not pressure your young master." His father spoke slowly, the red eyes observing him in such a way Adrian knew he could see the impact of his words.

Adrian tucked his hands below his thighs and out of sight to disguise the way they shook ever so slightly.

"And let us not be hasty, Lutain. The change is quite permanent, and I would not proceed without your young master's permission."

The red eyes slyly met Adrian's own, "After all, Lutain is your familiar."

Adrian said nothing, mostly because he was not sure how his voice would remain steady. He couldn't think.

His father rolled his eyes, Adrian's eyes prickled as he felt the stifling weight of disappointing his father lay heavy on his shoulders.

"I found Nagini in a pet store, located in Hogsmeade," His father started, his tone affectionate as he gently ran his fingers over the ridges around Nagini's eyes, "The store has long since closed. She was quite young at the time, and the staff obviously didn't know her species."

Adrian leaned forward subconsciously, watching his father's face with the utmost concentration. The way he spoke was so gentle, so proud and fond. Adrian hoped that someday he would talk about Adrian that way.

"I purchased her for two galleons." his father continued. "I had to sneak her back into the castle, of course. I kept her beneath my bed with a warming charm, as at the time I had to be very careful. The Chamber of Secrets had just been opened-"

"Why didn't you return my letter?" Adrian blurted, twitching as his father looked at him questionably, "The letter I sent, about the chamber."

"My useless follower, Wormtail, destroyed the letter prior to me receiving it, something about it being hexed."

Adrian had heard that name before, he knew who that was. He was the man who was an animagus, the one who knew the Potters before everything had happened.

His father wasn't happy with the man; Adrian could imagine how his flesh would have been slowly cut away in ornate ribbons and spiraling twirls- like the peeling of an apple.

(Adrian had only seen it once, watching his leg unravel towards his knee like a Christmas decoration, feeling his wand shaking in his hand and bile rising up the back of his throat. It was only a second before his father spoke the countercurse. His muscle looked wet and purple in the chandelier light.)