Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Heart's Desire
Chapter 4
Within a chamber nearly the length of the Great Hall and decorated with snake pillars and the face of a man, Hadrian spotted his best friend's sister on the marble floor with a diary nearby and ran over towards the statue at the end. "Ginny?" Racing down the chambers and pass the pillars, Hadrian dropped to his knees "Ginny! Please don't be dead. Wake up! Wake up! Please wake up."
"She won't wake," commented the voice of a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle.
Shooting up into a seated position, Hadrian frantically looked around before realising where he truly was; The Shrieking Shack.
His skin was slick with sweat, and the bedding was an utter mess from tossing in his sleep. However, none of it mattered to Hadrian as he threw the sheets aside and took off down the trap door to Hogwarts as he shoved on his healing glasses with his wand in hand. Running until he had to stun the Whomping Willow, Hadrian swore under his breath for leaving his most valued behind. Summoning his cloak and map he soon called for Dobby.
The house elf was immediately by his side. "Kind Harry Potter sir?"
Hadrian raised an eyebrow. "Hadrian Evans, Dobby," he gently chastised. "No one must know my real name."
"Dobby is sorry."
Giving the elf a quick smile, he made sure no one was around despite the early hours of four am. "That's alright, just try to remember, okay?"
"Yes, Kind Hadrian Evans sir."
Getting to the point, Hadrian quickly requested Tom Riddle's diary which the elf retrieved for him promptly. "Thanks, Dobby. Do you remember the room in Jennifer's house where I slept? You do? Good. I need you to put a Notice-Me-Not on that room and take everything I have in the Shrieking Shack there."
"Yes, Master Hadrian Evans sir. Dobby feels foul magic in the diary, just like Master's scar."
Master Hadrian Evans? That's a new one. A new name every day. Keep me on my toes, I guess. His real masters are the Malfoys.
Shaking away the thought, Hadrian snuck into the castle again once he'd silenced his shoes with a spell and kept a careful eye on the map just in case Dumbledore was wondering around at this ridiculous hour. Those bloody enchanted glasses.
The magic in Voldemort's diary is the same as my scar? The magic that nearly brought sixteen-year-old Riddle to life again? Shit, that's a frightening thought. An essence of Voldemort is in me?
"I think I'm going to be sick," Hadrian murmured to himself before taking off at a run to the nearest toilets and threw up last night's dinner until there was nothing left. "Riddle almost resurrected himself that night. Using that diary. And my scar might do the same? But what is in me exactly?"
Wondering the halls with no destination in mind now that he had a fully functional Voldemort diary in hand, he followed the mild compulsion he had ignored in second year and climbed the stairs until he was looking at the place he'd run from not days ago. However, instead of a door, it was a blank wall, and behind it, something was pulling him here. He searched for a hidden door or some trigger like a crevice that needed his blood, but it was all for naught. Eventually, his frustrations made standing still to think become impossible, so he paced in front of that same wall with his mind fixated on the compulsion.
The sound of stone against stone made Hadrian look up, and he spotted an old but large looking set of doors. Once sure no one was around to see him he opened it and saw mountains of various items inside. "What a load of junk. What the hell am I supposed to find in this place?" Summoning Dobby again, he apologised for the ridiculous hour and enlisted the elf's help to find anything of value to sell and put the proceeds into his vault with explicit instruction to start once he was well rested.
Walking deeper into the room and taking note of its content, Hadrian weaved around the many rows until the pull he felt was at its strongest.
Resting not from far from the bust of an ugly old warlock, was a tiara that looked like a discoloured silver eagle. The urge to touch it was strong and akin to that of Barty Crouch Jr's Imperious curses. Taking several steps back, Hadrian looked around in alarm and soon noticed a black vapour rising from the piece of jewellery, as well as a second, significantly larger, cloud emerging from the diary in his hands. Tossing the diary on the floor, Hadrian made to run but stumbled and tripped when freezing cold vapour began piercing his forehead.
Hadrian screamed as he felt heated agony while the two vapours wedged themselves into his scar, blending with something else and intensifying his scar. Whatever that vapour was delivered pain beyond his Cruciatus experiences and he mentally begged for it to stop as he moaned on the floor. Glimpses of other ornate discoloured objects and a snake flittered within his mind for a moment before he tried focussing on where he was.
It seemed to do the trick, but consequently, the full pain of his concussion came to the forefront of his thoughts. "Merlin, my head. Why didn't I fight it off…?"
He slipped into unconsciousness despite the red liquid staining his face.
"You allowed the presence of a mere boy in Diagon Alley to be the deciding factor against those pathetic Aurors!" he shouted in a fury, stalking around a cowering man in Death Eater regalia. "Another display of error, Regulus Black, and I won't be so tolerant. Now get out of my sight!"
"Yes, Master."
The Death Eater retreated from the throne room, leaving him alone to ponder and plan. "The original circle never had such failures," he murmured to himself, glancing at a large python/king cobra cross breed which slithered over and up onto his shoulder. He looked out the window and had a well-aged face of Diary-Riddle.
.:Do you want me to bite him?:. the snake offered.
He shook his head. .:You amuse me, Nagini, but not yet:.
"My Lord!" a different man urgently called from the threshold of the room.
Turning to face them, he smirked at the recoil by his Death Eater at the sight of Nagini. "You bear news, Rookwood?"
The Death Eater came forward and knelt before his lord. "It's been taken from the Department of Mysteries, my lord. The prophecy."
He tensed at the news and fingered his wand. "Go on," he advised slowly.
Rockwood shivered slightly but nonetheless obeyed. "In the last forty-eight hours, it's reverted to blue. Validity. In the last six, it was stolen from the Hall of Prophecy," Rookwood finished with a tone of fear.
You are right to fear me, Augustus Rookwood. He thought to himself.
"And the culprit, Rookwood?" he ordered, feeling a tinge of fear towards a potential threat.
"I wasn't present, my lord."
"CRUCIO!"
Hadrian writhed on the stone floor, biting his lip in the hope of nobody hearing him toss in response to the spell's aftereffects. He'd felt such pain before and experience had taught him that riding it out did more favours than trying to fight it off, but he did not scream. The pain slowly abated, and with laboured breath, Hadrian sat up and looked to the two objects that must have brought this on. He wouldn't be able to run again for a while at least, so summoned the creature that'd detected the foul magic in the first place.
"Master Hadrian, sir," Dobby responded before gaping at what must be a horrible sight. "You's hurt?"
Hadrian couldn't help the ironic chuckle that escaped him. The tables had turned it seemed. "A little, Dobby. Could you get me a pain reliever or something to counter the Cruciatus curse?"
The elf gave a feverish nod and immediately disapparated and was back within moments. "Anti-Cruciatus, Kind Master Hadrian."
Downing the horrid potion in one and putting the vial aside, Hadrian focussed on Dobby. "Are you hurt, Dobby? Anything that needs healing?" he offered, grateful for what the little guy had done for him so far.
"Dobby needs not healing."
Gently nodding his head and soon regretting it, Hadrian pointed to the diary whether and the tiara. He needed to know whether basilisk venom was still necessary. "Are those items cursed or have bad magic, Dobby?" The elf tottered over and looked at each with a look of confusion but shook his head.
"Boths now clean, sir. Master's scar is very dirty. More dirty than before."
Great…So I've what? Adsorbed more of what was in my scar? Fan-bloody-tastic.
Hadrian groaned but regretted the action. "Okay, Dobby," he started slowly. "Can you get me a small dose of skelo-grow? I hit my head." The elf nodded but didn't leave instantly. "Once you've done that I want you to put those two things in my vault. Here's my key."
"Yes, Kind Master."
Casting Scourgify followed by Episkey, he was soon resting on the stone floor and accepted the skelo-grow but bit back the urge to groan when the paining effects kicked in. A moment later the diary and the tiara, or diadem as Dobby had called it, were gone and on their way to his vault. There wasn't much of a safer place for valuables than Gringotts Bank. The Chamber of Secret perhaps, but there was no telling if the basilisk was Voldemort's ally or not. Especially considering the fact Hadrian knew for sure the sick bastard was alive and kicking in this world.
Had he'd been in his world, Hadrian would be raging with Dumbledore right now. The prophecy's tag had Dumbledore's five-lettered initials on it and all through school the old wizard never entrusted him with the truth of his life. He'd asked why Voldemort was intent on killing him, but got only riddles and had to find out for himself. He'd shown the man trust repeatedly, but never got a full answer, especially about his scar and ability to speak to snakes. Transfer of powers, Dumbledore said.
More like transfer of essence. I can see what Voldemort is doing, for Merlin's sake. I can hear his thoughts, feel his emotions.
It's like…
No…
No way in hell! If I see my Dumbledore again, I'll tear him a new one about damned secrecy!
If he can withhold information like that, I do not trust this Dumbledore either.
Irate with the new knowledge, Hadrian fled from the room, not giving a damn about being seen and raced back to the shack until he was sitting on the bed and feeling his face drain of colour. "No, no. So fucked up. Dumbledore's bloody secrets. Why? Voldemort's soul? Sick bastard's soul in my body. How? Screwed up, so screwed up," he murmured to himself, wanting to scream his frustration. His breath quickening. The glass window smashing as everything rattled.
"Hadrian?"
Jumping up and drawing his wand, he nearly fell over in the process but seeing Harry Potter before him made him snap out of it for the moment. "You're in danger!" he blurted out earning a confused looked. "You and Neville. Voldemort knows the prophecy is valid again. Augustus Rookwood told him. My scar gives me visions. He knows."
Harry came over and put the Nimbus on the bed. "Visions? Like Trelawney?"
"Yes and no, I see through Voldemort's eyes. His words; his thoughts; emotions. You have to warn Neville!" Hadrian urged, becoming frantic and pacing the small shack before Harry shoved him onto the bed and slapping him soundly.
"Calm down, or I'm taking you to Dumbledore," Harry demanded, drawing his wand which alarmed Hadrian.
NO!
Seconds later, Hadrian felt as though he'd been shoved through a tube too skinny to fit him and crashed onto a different bed his hand on top of a broom that could only be Potter's Nimbus. Looking around the room, he recognised it as Jennifer's spare room.
"What in God's name, it's six in the morning…Harry?"
Looking up at the teenage girl, Hadrian saw his only human symbol of normalcy and didn't resist as she took him in her arms, rubbing his back.
"Shhh, it's okay. Slow breaths. That's it," Jennifer muttered into his ear while he shook with each breath. Moving the broom onto the floor, she held him again and laid the pair of them down, continuing to rub his back. "Mum won't find out. Dobby told me about the privacy spell. You're safe here," she murmured reassurances and continuing to do so until he fell into a fitful sleep.
Fiddling with a dry quill and tossing it onto yesterday's incomplete report in his Auror cubicle, the mentally busy man thought about the continuous casualties this ongoing war brought on. Frankly, he was surprised there were as many witches and wizards left; it would only be a matter of time before Voldemort moved from eliminating muggleborns and onto halfbloods, the damned hypocrite. Not that many people knew that little fact. Just the Order members and a few with a brain between their ears.
"Prongsie!"
Snapping out of morbid musing, James looked up at the cheery face of his brother in all but blood, who was sticking his head into the cubicle. "Padfoot," he acknowledged. "What's up?"
Sirius donned in his Auror uniform grinned and tossed a wizarding newspaper onto his desk, before opening it to the sports section. "Looks like junior's been up to some mischief making. Look at the Chudley Cannons article," the fellow Marauder directed with an undertone of laughter.
Daredevil Youth to Play Nationals
Yesterday morning, a young but promising Quidditch player, Hadrian Evans, wiped the pitch with Gudgeon in a series of ten seek-offs. Any doubts the crowd had of this Nimbus 2000 wielding fourteen-year-old boy swiftly vanished after witnessing Evans mercilessly defeat Gudgeon in less than an hour with professional grade Wronski Feints and other death-defying stunts. Manager Dorkins strategically had no choice but to contract Evans onto the first-string team. Evans has a way to go but could he become the next Krum? Will his Nimbus be enough for today's game?
James skimmed the article and picked up the paper to looked at the photo. "He's strikingly similar, but this Evans kid is too skinny to be Harry. Besides, Harry's a chaser," he argued while trying to think what was niggling within his mind. "Hang on!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.
Padfoot got out of the way and followed James who was leading the way to the cafeteria. "What? You see something, James?"
Casting a privacy ward around them, James spoke his mind. "Remember the patronus kid?" he commented to Sirius, who's eyes lit upon in recognition.
Sirius' grey eyes lit up. "Yeah, your secret admirer. Fled when Mad-eye assumed he was Harry. I would never have considered a bloody house-elf to escape," he grumbled lightly with a hint of approval at the original means to flee.
James could remember the incident pretty well. Diagon Alley was in a right state, and all but the Aurors and one kid fought to protect the others. The child's repertoire of spells was somewhere between that of a fourth and fifth Hogwarts student and brushed off an Imperio without realising he'd been hit with it by a Death Eater. The way he maintained the patronus while shouting for lingering shoppers to leave spoke volume of the boy's ability. But was it strength born of necessity or raw skill? The kid acted like a survivor.
His speed of casting was on par with the Auror cadets, and the creativity of using an invisibility cloak to slip behind the Death Eaters to disarm them showed he'd been in tight spots before and could wriggle out of them. The use of banishing spells with the debris and casting Bombarda to produce a cover for escape were acts of a fighter who'd been forced to think outside the box before with limited knowledge. If only the Auror Academy had drills for making smart snap decisions the newest to the DMLE wouldn't get cut down so quickly.
It had been a shock in Diagon Alley when James got a good look of the kid's face, and for a moment he thought it was Harry before Remus muttered in a reminder that Harry was grounded and ought to be at home.
He especially remembered snapping at Frank when he had suggested the prophecy. He would never wish to heap Britain's problems onto a single boy, be it Neville or Harry. Only a select few knew about the prophecy that's become void within years of it being made.
James nodded thoughtfully. "At least we know where we can find him. But let's see what we can dig up first, Padfoot."
The fellow animagus had an eager air about him."Sounds like a plan, Prongs. I'll dig in Improper Use files," Sirius volunteered before turning towards the DMLE sub-division – Improper Use of Magic. "I'll give you anything I find later."
"Thanks, Padfoot. I'll do a little snooping at Hogwarts," James replied cheerily and saw Sirius pout at missing an opportunity. "Have fun with those files. I'll give Minnie your love."
"Oh piss off," Sirius grumbled looking a bit put out.
James could only laugh in memory of how much they'd driven Minerva up the high walls of Hogwarts. "Aww…don't be like that, Sirius," the Marauder teased before heading off for the fireplace
"You better find something, Prongs!"
He grinned and gave a nod of promise. "Anything I find will reach your ears first."
"Better," Sirius repeated before disappearing around the corner.
Considering his little expedition to Hogwarts was not in his official capacity, James used the Floo to the Three Broomsticks and apparated into the Shrieking Shack, which looked nothing as it should causing him to activate his wand holster instinctively. "What's going on here?" he murmured to himself within the empty but well-kept shack, keeping an eye out for any threats as his eyes brushed over the lacking contents of the room. Pulling out his two-way mirror, James spoke the password as he went down the stairs and proceeded along the tunnel. "Sirius Black."
There wasn't an immediate reaction, but ten seconds later Padfoot's head appeared in the mirror. "Prongsie, mate. Did you find something?"
James hesitated when he thought about the oddity but got on with it. "I've found something, but it's not on parchment. Well, sort of."
Sirius was immediately interested. "Well? Spit it out."
"It looks like someone is living in our shack, mate. Sparsely, though," he added.
Padfoot raised on intrigued eyebrow. "So, what was there?"
"A letter was written in code," he rallied after reading through it again. "The letter was written by a teenage girl in the tone and writing of it. Muggle paper, too."
"What'd it say?"
"Talked about being a runaway, getting a job for teenagers, special words and fate," he explained before letting out a frustrated breath. "It's like a wonky piece of a puzzle, Padfoot. It seems to fit the criteria, but there's no proof it's Evans. The code name of the receiver was 'Chivalrous,' which was the way Evans acted in Diagon Alley, but there's nothing else that makes it fit. What if it's someone else?"
"A magical runaway with a muggle friend, interesting." Sirius seemed to be sitting down. "Well, you did better than me, Prongs. It's like the kid doesn't exist."
"What?"
Sirius's hand waved near one corner of the mirror. "Yeah, me too, James. Buggered if I know."
Running his spare hand through his hair, James sighed. "Not an easy one, eh?" he remarked, ruefully shaking his head. "Have you tried the Dept of Magical Education? The kid's too young to have taken OWLs, but there could be something. Subject grades maybe," James suggested as he tried to think of anything else. He doubted Hogwarts provided the Ministry with the grades of non-OWL or NEWT studies, but he didn't know what else could be found at the ministry.
Sirius shrugged in partial defeat. "Maybe. Either the Evans kid is a goody-two-shoes like Lily, or there's more to this than we know." When Sirius didn't immediately disappear from view, James gestured for him to get on with it. "Thinking."
James grinned despite the struggle with the mystery kid. "I didn't know you could think beyond women and wands, Padfoot," he teased.
"At least I don't have to beg for a date, Prongs. Now I won't tell you."
"Aww, come on. That's a bit low but completely worth it. What's on your mind, Sirius?" By this time, he'd reached the Entrance Hall doors and disillusioned himself and charmed a Not-Me-Not on the mirror. "Don't be bitter, Padfoot," he teased. "There was a mention of not trusting someone in the letter, but it didn't say who."
"Doesn't make bloody sense to me."
"I'm with you there, Sirius."
He felt rather befuddled as meaningless images flitted across his mind again. Blinking a few times he realised his sight was now worse than it had been before his procedure in Knockturn Alley.
Was Voldemort's essence damaging his eyes in some way? It was the only assumption that made sense. Looking around he spotted an arm around his stomach and realised Jennifer was holding him on the bed in the spare room.
"What happened? How'd I get here?" he murmured, looking around for the healing glasses from Felicia's store before spotting them and sliding them on, the ache wearing from them had increased in intensity, but he wasn't about to complain when he could inquire about it later.
"I don't know," she whispered with a gentle squeeze, spurring his imagination and making heat rise to his cheeks. There was a ruffle behind him as she adjusted her hold. "You teleported onto the bed hours ago and in shock."
That put a halt to his rebellious mind. "I apparated?" he inquired in disbelief.
"If that's what you call it," she replied with a shrug without letting go. He was too mentally tired to insist on morals and getting out of her comfortable hold right now. He felt like hippogriffs had trampled on him. "You muttered about danger and a prophecy in your sleep."
Disregarding the comment on what he'd said during slumber, he focussed on the accidental magic. "Was I holding a wand when I appeared?"
"No, Harry. You appeared holding a broom, though," she clarified quietly with peaked interest. "Does it make a difference?"
He hummed in confirmation as speculation coursed through his mind.
"I take that means a lot?"
"Yeah, Jennifer. Definitely," Hadrian muttered, adjusting himself on the bed and looking over his shoulder to the muggle girl. "Have you had any weird-dressed visitors since I appeared?"
"No. Why?" the girl remarked curiously. "It's Amanda, actually. Jennifer is my best friend's name."
"Oh, alright." He tried to sit up but felt he was more likely to be sick. Instead, he lifted her hand and Amanda quickly caught on before removing it. "Because accidental magic draws the Ministry's attention, and wizards can't blend in for hell. I'm supposed to get a warning letter from the Ministry when it happens. They normally wipe the experience from the minds of Muggles." Running his hand through his hair, Hadrian wondered why there was a difference this time since any other wandless magic he'd done resulted in a letter or the minister.
"They wipe our minds?" She was a bit indignant, and rightfully so. The idea of having his mind wiped would have riled him up.
Slowly nodding, he managed to sit up on his back partially and looked to Amanda beside him. "Magic-only stuff. Nothing else."
The raven haired girl raised an eyebrow before offering a glass of water. "That statute rot?"
He nodded and wet his parched throat. "Yeah, it's how we hide without living underground."
"Oh, um right," she replied with a slight tone of guilt and shook her head. Looking up, she tried to put on a smile but failed miserably. "Maybe you tele- apparated on purpose?"
"I…good point, I didn't have plans on coming here, but this was the first place I thought of," he admitted before sitting up completely and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "It's not your fault that my kind have to hide." The look on her face told him she appreciated the gesture and the bothered look faded slightly. "But I've never known how to apparate. I've never done wandless magic that was a spell before."
Amanda seemed a little confused before visibly shaking away a thought. "Maybe you could try again?" she suggested as she gazed down and fiddled with her pajama shorts.
Hadrian chuckled darkly, climbing off the bed carefully and retrieving his bright orange robes for today's match. "I could have hurt myself last time," he remarked, swapping his current robe for his uniform with 'Evans' on the back in black. "I'm lucky I didn't, or that would have been a gory mess."
"Oh…" Amanda went over to the desk where his books resided on the opposite side of the room. "I guess appearing out of nowhere could be dangerous," she conceded, taking an interest in one of his books. Taking the opportunity, Hadrian switched his pants in record time. "You literally popped into this room. Like bursting a balloon," she continued while flicking through a book.
Tossing the blank robes onto the bed, Hadrian let out a curious sigh about what this all meant. "Definitely apparation then," he remarked, picking up Potter's broom and coming over before looking over her shoulder. Amanda was looking at pages about using runes in combat, which made him curious. Just because he never applied himself to much of anything other than DADA and spells of necessity, it didn't mean he didn't have the mind to learn. He just suppressed himself out of habit from primary school. "I've heard stories about leaving body parts behind. I'd rather not risk it."
"I can imagine," she murmured sounding a little grossed out before glancing up at him and looking startled for a moment but not looking away.
"Are you alright?" he couldn't help but ask which elected a smile from Amanda. "It's the uniform, isn't it?" Hadrian joked with a grin.
"Perhaps." Amanda's eyes glinted with mirth while her breath was shallow. "Um well…so you got a job?"
Glad for the change of subject, Hadrian went over to his quidditch supplies and started putting on the shin pads and gloves. "It's like football on broomsticks. Seven people per team. Do you remember?"
"Quidditch, right? Umm, keepers, chasers, beaters and seekers?" Amanda picked up the broom and handed it to him, looking a little longing at it.
"Thanks. That's it." Hadrian nodded, smiling. "I earned a seeker position on a national team that wasn't doing too good. The Chudley Cannons. There's a game today at noon." Hadrian felt a little nostalgic as he looked at the Nimbus and recalled the first two and a half years of playing on one. However, there was a sneaking concern that it may hinder him since he'd long grown used to the qualities of his Firebolt. Namely, it's precision in movement.
"Can I watch?"
He snapped his head up from the broom. "I'm sorry?"
"Can I watch?" Amanda repeated, with excitement seeping into her voice. Her blue eyes were blazing as she looked at him almost pleadingly.
Hadrian scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little guilty he hadn't anticipated her wish. "I guess. Just don't make it obvious you're a muggle. Expect anything to happen around you." Grabbing his black robe he tossed it to her. "Put this on over your clothes when we go; it'll help blend you in."
Amanda gently folded the robe in her arms with a contagious smile. "Thanks, Harry."
Hours later, Hadrian was in the locker room standing with determination while his teammates looked doubtful towards him, but he didn't let it get to him. Jenkins and Lloyds were shooting glares at him, apparently still peeved about Hadrian's comments during tryouts. The chasers seemed to be having a silent conversation amongst themselves, while the keeper and captain was looking Hadrian over with a critical eye.
The keeper, Griffith, came over and clasped a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you didn't cheat at the tryouts, Evans, or Dorkins will have your hide."
Hadrian looked at him as though he was an idiot. "You saw me at the practice after tryouts, Griffiths. It was no fluke or potion."
"Good, because we're going on."
Getting into formation, the team climbed the stairs and mounted their brooms and flew out onto the pitch to took their starting positions. Looking to the other team, the Wigtown Wanderers, he could tell the seeker was confident after taking just one look at Hadrian. Amused by the age-based judgment he'd been getting from all sides, he focussed on the chest below as the referee released the bludgers, the snitch and five seconds later threw the quaffle into the air.
Playing on a national level, Hadrian wasn't sure what to expect and kept an eye on the opposing seeker until he spotted a pattern in his movements; circling the pitch while remaining somewhat nearby Hadrian.
From what he was seeing the Cannons chasers were at a disadvantage due to the better technique by the Wanderers. Out of his peripheral vision, Hadrian spotted a bludger heading his way and swiftly dodged. Running interference to help the chasers sounded appealing, but he didn't know just what the Wanderers seeker was capable of and immediately got to work.
They had a Firebolt. He had a Nimbus 2000.
The odds were against him.
But he wasn't going to lose.
In the Leaky Cauldron, Hadrian, wearing his orange and black quidditch robes, was seated with the rest of the Chudley Cannons in celebration of their 170-40 win. Upon seeing just how bad the primary chasers on the team were, he'd become determined to catch the snitch as soon as possible, but it had been a close thing when playing against the Wigtown Wanderers seeker on a Firebolt. Thankfully, his natural skills on a broom helped to balance out the odds and enabling him to catch the snitch.
Having seen the disadvantage the Nimbus 2000 had against a Firebolt, the other team members pooled together some money so Hadrian wouldn't be disadvantaged in their next game, and with no intentions of losing his new broom, Hadrian sent it home via Dobby who'd also returned the Nimbus to Potter. He wondered if his counterpart had brought it to the shack with intentions of lending it to him for the game. Grateful he was for what they'd done, Hadrian understood the consequences involved and primarily spent the rest of the evening with the team until they went their different ways home.
Only actively involving himself in the conversation when he required to, Hadrian kept a watchful eye on the people around them. Upon spotting Ron in the pub looking his way in a manner his Ron had looked at Viktor Krum, Hadrian felt dread as he was forced to remember that he'd lost everything since coming here; Ron, Hermione, and Sirius foremost.
Brian interrupted his train of thought. "What's got you so bothered, Harry? You did great, and Dorkins gave you your performance bonus."
Looking to his reserve chaser friend, Hadrian shook his head. "The opinion of other people is water off a duck's back to me, Brian. I'm just thinking of those I left behind when I came to England. A look-a-like of my best mate is gawking at me in worship, but the guy I know would never do that. It feels wrong to see the stranger stare at me like this," Hadrian explained, subtly gesturing towards the Ron Weasley of this world, electing a sound of understanding from Brian. "Speaking of differences, why is everyone so subdued here? Like a cloud of constant fear." He had a good idea why since he'd seen through the genocidal monster's eyes since arriving here, but he didn't know the full measure of his presence here.
The reserve chaser glanced around and took Hadrian to a secluded corner of the pub. "You-Know-Who." At Hadrian's fake look of confusion, he clarified. "Lor- Lord Volde- Voldemort," Brian murmured with a look around to see whether someone had overheard them speak. "Any muggleborns or a person who denies him what he wants becomes a target and soon killed. His grip here is forever tightening, Harry."
Raising an eyebrow at the resigned tone of Brian's voice, Hadrian had to ask. "Don't they realise they far outnumber the killer and his henchmen? And I am a muggleborn, Brian."
His friend's dark chuckle made Hadrian fear the worst. "He's been in power longer than my parents have been alive, Harry. Everyone is cowed."
So he never died here? And he targets muggleborns actively? I hope Hermione is alright. I won't leave her to his cruelty.
"Everyone? Surely not," he disputed and saw Brian briefly nod, which riled rebellion within Hadrian's heart. "I will not stand for a tyrant to rule my life. I doubt I'm the only one," he argued looking around Brian for any faces he recalled being Death Eaters in his world.
Brian put a hand on his shoulder and gave a light squeeze. "Try not to be too vocal, Hadrian. You're more than a quidditch comrade," the older friend advised. Hadrian understood the difference between Brian calling him Harry and Hadrian. At the tryouts that began their friendship, Hadrian asked to be called Harry in person, so he understood the severity of what Brian had said.
Hadrian took in his words and frowned. "I'm an orphan with no family, Brian," he divulged quietly, glad not to see a blue beetle anywhere. "What could he do to me that hasn't happened already?"
The reserve chaser exhaled through his nose before opening his eyes again. "Too many things, Harry. Just be careful what you say and to who. Death Eaters act like snobs or royalty in public."
Not wanting to ruin what had turned out to be a decent day, he nodded in agreement and watched as Brian returned to the extended table where the Cannons were raucously drinking. Instead of following his teammate and first magical friend in this world, Hadrian slipped into the restroom where he changed out of the bright quidditch robes before asking Dobby to take them away and return with something a little more normal.
Looking in the mirror to check his appearance in comparison to Harry, Hadrian stopped and stared for a moment at his lone self before recalling the last time he'd looked at one. The last mirror he'd gazed into was very different one in design but what mattered was the inclusion of his parents. In this world, they were both alive, his counterpart was different enough to be a brother, he had more family yet to meet such as a younger sister, Iris, and possibly others.
Hadrian shook his head in sorrow. "Why are you avoiding them, Harry?" he questioned disapprovingly in a mutter to himself.
The longing to for family in his world had never left him; in fact intensifying each time he saw a reminder of them. The Mirror of Erised had been the first time he saw his parents and felt like a sharp stab in the heart upon learning that seeing was the most he could do; when Dumbledore requested he never sought the mirror again, he was forlorn for weeks.
The photo album made in first year by Hagrid was a beautiful gift, despite the reminder it carried for Hadrian. Of course, he would rather have something to remember them with, but it opened the old wound every time he looked at it.
And a fortnight ago, for mere seconds, he'd seen the ghost-like apparitions of his parents during the fight to survive Voldemort's resurrection.
Now it would simply be a matter of sending a letter to Harry and organise meeting them. His counterpart, after the identical oaths of no harm last night in the Department of Mysteries, had been pretty eager for him to meet the people who would have been his parents in another life.
Why am I be so damn hesitant?
Gripping the sink bench, Hadrian hung his head and closed his eyes.
The situation was quite laughable. Harry Potter of another world afraid to meet people, one of them already knew who he was and would vouch for him. Cerberuses, trolls, acromantulas, basilisks, dementors, dragons, Voldemort. Nope, those hadn't rendered him motionless but he was afraid of meeting what had once been his potential family. Was possible judgement bothering him? Rejection, maybe? What he'd always wanted was now in reach, yet he was too terrified to attempt fulfilling that deep desire.
He was more than willing to become a pain in Voldemort's arse if the monster had done something to Hermione here, since Ron seemed fine, but contacting his parents was suddenly too difficult? Was he seeing the scenario as an exchange of sorts? Hermione and Ron for blood family? It seemed kind of wrong, but there was no way to get his Ron and Hermione back since he had no idea how he got here in the first place.
Shaking his head and striding out of the restroom feeling ashamed, Hadrian went over to his team's table and said a few quick goodbyes before taking his leave.
Once again, Diagon Alley had that weary air about it and Hadrian kept one hand ready to cast and the other grasping his cloak in case another attacked broke out.
"Harry!"
Turning around, Hadrian spotted Brian in his bright orange quidditch uniform hurried over and joined him on the way to Florish and Blotts. "Oh, hey, Brian. What's the matter?"
Brian rolled his eyes. "You, mate. What's bothering you? I noticed you become sullen on the way out."
Busted.
"Oh, well…it's kinda complicated," he murmured while leading the way through the bookstore and checking the shelves for anything on soul magic. "Anything complicated is truly a mess," he expanded, trying to deter Brian's interest in the matter but the friend remained without saying a word.
Hadrian was about to start when a twelve-year-old nearly sent him to the floor on their way to the counter, consequently dropping a book but failing to notice.
"Hey!" he called out, book in hand as he closed the gap, irritated by their lack of attention or apology. "Do you mind?"
The young girl didn't even turn around. "You're supposed to be grounded, Harry. You're not one to talk," she retorted as the storekeeper rang up the books.
Taking in what she's said, a thought occurred to him. "I'm assuming you're a Potter?" It felt so strange to be using his former surname in such a manner but it was all he could say without being suspicious.
The raven-haired preteen turned around looking vexed. "What the hell-?"
But before she could say more a woman, unmistakeably Lily Potter, intervened. "Iris," she scolded, immediately capturing her daughter's attention. "I know you inherited your father's mischievous streak, but not that it extended to rudeness."
Effectively embarrassed, the sister-in-another-life turned to face him before looking at him a little shocked. "You're not-"
Taking the lapse in her comment and the silence in the store, Harry was raking his brain on what he needed to say and how to say it without sounding obvious.
"Iris," Mrs Potter repeated, snapping Iris out of her train of thought.
"Sorry," Iris murmured before going over to a redheaded and younger girl, calling her 'Alice'.
Mrs Potter came over looking apologetic, but Hadrian quickly cut her off. "It's fine."
"I'm afraid it's not, Mr Evans?" she half asked, which Hadrian confirmed with a nod. "I thought I taught her better than that."
Hadrian felt sympathetic for a mother of three or more. "You can't be everywhere, Mrs Potter. And please, call me 'Hadrian'."
"If you will call me 'Lily', Hadrian," she offered in turn.
He nodded a little dumbly. "Lily." Feeling a little bothered he blinked and looked over her shoulder before glancing back. "I've heard you are reliable at solving mysteries," he began, hoping it was enough of a prod to spark her attention. Seeing a shift in her posture it urged him to go on "Regularly, involuntarily, I witness events that aren't from my eyes. Is it possible for the other person to see through mine? Can I stop them from seeing my life? Or escape from seeing theirs?" he divulged, before he felt a shiver go up his spine. "It's quite gruesome."
Lily frowned for a moment and gestured for him to follow her. "I don't think there will be a lot here, but there is one art that might help," she murmured, running her fingers over the books spines are she searched the shelves. After a few minutes she made a small cry of success and Hadrian come over to see the book she held out. "My personal favourite. It's easy to follow and has straight forward explanations."
"Mind Arts for the Beginner," he read aloud, and looking up for an explanation.
Lily nodded fondly towards the book. "What you described is similar to Occlumency and Legilimency. Mind arts to protect or extract memories. The concept is similar to what you described, but if this doesn't help you with your predicament a research facility The Researchers Corner might, but you need at least a Mastery apprenticeship to obtain access."
The limited news was a little disheartening, but grateful that there was at least something that might help, Hadrian nodded with a small smile. "Thank you, Lily."
"You're welcome, Hadrian, but practice it every night. You seem tired, so I imagine it's affecting your sleep?" she guessed to which he shrugged. "Good luck. Alyssa, Iris." Lily called to her daughters. "Let's go home."
"Mrs Potter?"
Lily turned to him with an amused look. "Mr Evans," she replied with a smile, making Hadrian feel a little silly. "Hadrian," she amended kindly.
"Lily, I was wondering if you could pass a message onto the Longbottoms and Professor Dumbledore for me?"
This peaked her interest. "Why not write?" Harry could see where this was going and answered.
"With mail interception I thought by person would be more reliable," he replied while mentally coding his message.
Picking up that the information he had was sensitive she waved her wand. "Muffliato."
"Trelawney has turned blue."
He expected her face to lose colour or something, but she looked only mildly surprised for a second, before an expression of concern aimed towards him. "How did you know that?" she whispered icily, her wand touching his leg.
"The events, Mrs Potter," he began, feeling it was appropriate to be formal for the moment. "I witnessed Augustus Rookwood notify Tom Riddle this morning. Tom Riddle is afraid and believes it to be true, but he doesn't know who it specifically pertains to," Hadrian relayed before realising he'd need to explain how he knew the Longbottoms were involved. "He muttered the beginning of a prophecy to himself after using Crucio on Rookwood for not seeing who took it from the Hall of Prophecy. Riddle mentioned 'the Potters and the Longbottoms' afterwards."
She didn't say anything and only stood there holding him under strong scrutiny. Internally, Hadrian felt like finding a rock and hiding under it, but couldn't look away from her emerald eyes.
"Mrs Potter, I'd never want Wizarding Britian to offload its problems onto a teenager, but it doesn't mean Riddle won't target teenagers. I thought the families should know," he explained, as though he was pleading for her to lift the purposeful gaze from him. It was agonising to be looked at in such a distrustful manner for meaning well, so he tried to hide his mind from the painful emotions.
There was a flitter cups, lockets, rings and cobra crossbreeds before he lost control of his body, but knowing he was placed on a seat.
"Wormtail," he murmured at the quivering man in the centre of his throne room.
"M-m-my lord, I've-"
Irritation sparked within him. "Crucio," he incanted and lifted it off a second later. "Each time you speak out of turn, I will hold the Cruciatus longer. Understood?"
"Ye-yes, Master."
Yes, I AM your master, Rat. Had you been selected last time you would have been the perfect rat.
Walking around the man once and watching as Pettigrew remained utterly still, he seated himself on the ornate, high back throne. "Your task, Wormtail, is simple. Retrieve the oldest Potter boy."
Wormtail looked saddened but nodded quickly. "Yes master." His servant was about to leave but he didn't purely trust this one.
"It seems you've learnt your place in my ranks, Wormtail. I am pleased to see this," he gloated, watching the fear in the eyes of the rat. Yes, Wormtail, I never praise unless it's truly earnt. "And a reminder of what will happen if you disappoint me. CRUCIO!"
Hadrian could tell he was being held in place by at least two people, and any words spoken with the store sounded like a faint whisper to him. Shivering from the effects of the Cruciatus curse, Hadrian was forced to fight again the hands trying to help him until enough subsided that his senses were coming back properly.
He expected to wake to the store being in a jungle like state of mayhem with the few people who had been inside, and the girls, Iris and Alyssa, cowering in a corner; but there was nothing like it to be seen. Instead they were inside a stock room.
There was the sound of Brian's footfalls on wood nearby. "Brian," he called out, groaning as he was coming around from the latest vision.
Brian was immediately within Hadrian's line of sight. "Harry? Mate, are you alright? One minute the pair of you were having a staring contest and the next you're having a Cruciatus curse seizure!"
He winced at the volume of Brian's fear. "Sensitive ears," he murmured, rubbing his eyes and sitting up properly. "Where are we?" He didn't recognise the place.
Brian stepped out of the way so he could see the rest of it. "Storeroom of Florish and Blotts."
Crane his sore neck around Hadrian tried to catch sight of Lily, Iris and Alyssa without success. "The Potters?"
"Shepherded the girls out, said thanks and promised to be in contact soon," Brian swiftly answered, sitting himself down on a crate and looking at Hadrian with concern.
Although Brian was his only magical friend, he'd only know the guy for two days tops and had to cover his bases to try and stay off the radar too much. With a pleading expression he more demanded than requested it. "Promise never to speak of this," he said solemnly.
"On my magic, so mote it be," Brian uttered, wand in hand, which too Hadrian by surprise when the blue glow confirmed the oath.
It made him squirm, although he knew he hadn't asked for the Wizard's Oath. "Oh, I didn't mean…well, thanks I guess, Brian." The sudden turn of events with one of the few people he trusted made him worried if he's just destroyed a potential friendship.
Brian shrugged and dragged his crate closer to Harry's chair. "You're welcome, Harry, but there's no such thing as a free lunch," the blonde remarked before raising an eyebrow. "What the hell was that?"
Hadrian felt like he'd never stop explaining himself in this world. The Life of Harry Potter, 2nd Edition. Hadrian chuckled darkly at the fitting thought. "The short of it? I can see into Voldemort's mind and he likes to Crucio his followers every chance he gets. Each time he does, I cop it."
The teammate looked mind blown. "Bollocks."
"Yep," Hadrian replied darkly. Brian may have wanted to know what he'd seen, but Hadrian wasn't about to divulge something. He would leave that to the people it concerned. Lack of privacy had been something he'd loathed and wouldn't want someone else to experience the same. Unless it was Malfoy, but the git would be more likely to bask in it, so he wouldn't be doing the prat any such favours.
Brian helped him up off the seat and after a few minutes Hadrian could stand independently. When they emerged from the storeroom there wasn't a great number of people browsing the shop, so only the manager noticed when they reappeared.
"Off to St Mungo's for a check-up?" the storekeeper suggested quietly, to which Hadrian nodded with no intention of going to the hospital whatsoever.
His teammate and friend, looked as though he was going to laugh and held it in until they were outside heading to the Leaky Cauldron. "Mate, I'm getting you a firewhisky. Age be damned," Brian remarked when they passed through the stone archway.
Shaking his head in mirth, Hadrian went along with Brian's plan and was introduced to the strongest drink the Leaky Cauldron had to offer.
"Can I crash at yours tonight?"
"No problem, Harry. So long as you don't barge into the master room you'll be right."
Hadrian couldn't help but feel sorry for the Potter family, Lily witnessed Peter Pettigrew complying to kidnap her son for Lord Voldemort. He almost wished he'd never asked for her help in the bookstore so they could be spared the inevitable pain for a while.
Inside Potter Manor, James was trying to comfort his worried wife as she paced with her arms tightly crossed in the living room like a caged animal. "Lily." She looked up and the blazing concern in her bright eyes shocked him enough that he blinked before taking her in his arms and sitting the pair of them onto the couch. "I haven't seen you this worried in years. What's happened?"
He could feel her body shake within his grasp, deepening his anxiety. "I told you about the prophecy reactivating?" James nodded. How could he forget? The last two nights consisted of very little sleep as he laid in bed with fear of losing their children to Voldemort and the Death Eaters haunting their dreams. "Someone spoke to me in private not an hour ago, someone who has been too busy to have investigated it, and told me Riddle knows the prophecy is blue again."
James blanched at the implications and silently begged those green eyes for some light at the end of this dark tunnel.
"He told me Riddle believes Harry or Neville is a threat to him after Rookwood informed him about the prophecy…I don't want to lose him, James; any of them." The grip on his shoulder tightened but he didn't remark on it. Seeing the fear etched all over her face felt like a blow, but he would be strong for his family.
"Nothing will happen to them if I can help it, Lily," he reassured with a kiss to the forehead. "Who told you, though?" James asked as he pulled back to get a good look at her face.
There was a tear track but she seemed to be fighting against the urge to breakdown. "The name doesn't matter," Lily commented shakily, holding his gaze. "But I know the information is genuine." He didn't know what to think. Why wasn't she telling him the identity of the informant? "The best way to tell you how I know is to show you. You need to see it for yourself, James. I don't think you'd believe it any other way," his wife insisted, gesturing in the direction of the study.
Letting go and rising to his feet, James was about to go when he saw her closing the Floo Network and murmuring the incantation to activate the blood warding surrounding the manor; something that was renewed every generation. Running a hand through his hair feeling increasingly worried, he took a slow breath wondering what could require the additional measures. Even Sirius wouldn't be able to enter the property right now, but Lily and their family was his top priority. Lily always had a good intuition and if she felt it was necessary then so be it.
When they reached the study, Lily went over to her variation of the typical pensieve was about to take out the memory when he took her hand. "May I?" he offered, his wand shooting from the holster and into his hand. She nodded one and locked eyes with him as he took out the memory with his wand and putting it into the engraved bowl, which lit up and started playing the memory.
"Brace yourself, James. It won't be easy, but the end is the most important part."
In the bookstore with their daughters, the hologram of his wife made small talk with none other than Hadrian Evans until the boy told her of his troubles, for which she retrieved a book that might help him. "Lily…?" It struck him as odd that the pair got on as well as they did in such a short time. And being under Mad-Eye's tutelage, he'd learnt to look at anything with a critical eye.
The woman beside him just shook her head. "Just watch. You needed to hear that to understand the rest."
Keeping his mouth zipped, he witnessed the boy passed on a message for Frank, Alice and Albus within the protection of a privacy spell.
"Trelawney has turned blue."
"How did you know that?" she whispered icily, her wand touching Hadrian's leg. James could only smile at the fire that blazed within her even now.
"The events, Mrs Potter," he begun, clearly cowed by the dangerous vibe Lily Potter was giving off. "I witnessed Augustus Rookwood notify Tom Riddle this morning. Tom Riddle is afraid and believes it to be true, but he doesn't know who it specifically pertains to," Hadrian relayed before falling quiet for a moment. "He muttered the beginning of a prophecy to himself after using Crucio on Rookwood for not seeing who took it from the Hall of Prophecy. Riddle mentioned 'the Potters and the Longbottoms' afterwards."
She didn't say anything and only stood there holding him under strong scrutiny. The poor boy looked as though he wanted to run and hide, but seemed frozen in place by Lily's eyes.
"Mrs Potter, I'd never want Wizarding Britian to offload its problems onto a teenager, but it doesn't mean Riddle won't target teenagers. I thought the families should know," he explained, as though he was pleading for her to lift the purposeful gaze from him. The boy seemed pained by the distrustful manner she stared although he'd seemed to have only told her out of goodwill.
[The boy's face lost all emotion as though hiding all hints of personality and shortly after started twitching in a pained manner. A Chudley Cannon's player, looking panicked, assisted in getting the boy in a private location.]
The projection of the store moved up and a second and larger projection appeared at their eye level. "Lily?"
"I was using Legilimency on him at the time, and saw he spoke the truth about the prophecy," she shared sadly. "Here it appears that Hadrian slipped into Riddle's mind and took me with him but I didn't lose bodily control as he'd done."
There was a flitter cups, lockets, rings and cobra crossbreeds before there was a new setting; that of a mansion.
"Wormtail," he murmured at the quivering man in the centre of his throne room.
"M-m-my lord, I've-"
Earlier he'd felt fear for his fellow Marauder, but now there was only dread. Turning to Lily, she didn't say anything and gestured to the projection while squeezing his hand. He had a feeling he knew what it meant.
Irritation sparked within him. "Crucio," he incanted and lifted it off a second later. "Each time you speak out of turn, I will hold the Cruciatus longer. Understood?"
[Hadrian thrashed in the chair for a few seconds but didn't scream as Lily and the player did their best to protect him.]
"Ye-yes, Master."
Yes, I AM your master, Rat. Had you been selected last time you would have been the perfect rat. Uttered the mental voice of Voldemort.
"No…" James denied, giving Lily a pleading expression. "Not Wormtail."
"It's nearly over," she encouraged with tears brimming. "You must see this."
Walking around the man once and watching as Pettigrew remained utterly still, he seated himself on the ornate, high back throne. "Your task, Wormtail, is simple. Retrieve the oldest Potter boy."
Wormtail looked saddened but nodded quickly. "Yes master." His servant was about to leave but he didn't purely trust this one.
"It seems you've learnt your place in my ranks, Wormtail. I am pleased to see this," he gloated, watching the fear in the eyes of the rat. Yes, Wormtail, I never praise unless it's truly earnt. "And a reminder of what will happen if you disappoint me. CRUCIO!"
The projection faded and Lily left her memory in the bowl in favour of coming to James and wrapping her arms around him. James was staring at an old Hogwarts photo of the four Marauders, his grip was threatening to break the frame. "I'm sorry, James. I wish I could say my pensieve is faulty but I checked it with a standard memory…" she explained, petering off.
He gave her a pleading look.
"Fully functional, James. I'm sorry, truly."
James relinquished his grip as his wife took the picture and placed the framed photo back on the desk. "We trusted him. For years he deceived the Order, but now he wanted to take our son? He agreed to it so readily."
Lily looked sympathetic and embraced him, no doubt knowing how much of a blow the news of Peter's treachery was to James. "I'm sorry, James."
"No, Lily," he objected as he pulled back to look her in the eyes. "I would rather know now than lose my family later. At one point, Peter would have been a part of that, but until I speak to him face to face will I won't know who he is truly loyal to." James gestured to the pensieve. "What's there is damning, but I want to hear it from his own mouth in front of the Order."
"Do you want me to leave the defences active, James?"
He nodded resolutely. "I won't lose them, Lilyflower." James promised her, before becoming engulfed in Lily's hug.
Taking the woman he loved to their room, James set himself down on the quilt and held her close. It was only a matter of time before the true pain of the betrayal hit him full force.