Unknown to Severus Snape and the other Slytherins, Hadrian Potter took the words his Head of House offered to his heart. He would still play the part of a distant student, and would not strive for any sort of intimacy, companionship or friendship with others.

In a talk with the Baron, he had concluded that joining up with the three he knew the most of all in his year would be the best course of action. The Baron would still accompany them, unknown to the other three, just not in plain sight.

There was also the additional protection that Eagala could provide, if needed, though Hadrian did not wish such a situation inflicted upon his closest of companions, for her response would leave someone either paralyzed or dead, and no matter how often the Headmaster and others tried to play the unbiased role, there was no doubt in his mind that they would take her away and kill her, and quite possibly see him expelled.

The thoughts about their 'fairness' dissipated when they went through the next few days of classes.

The teachers did not give out points as much as they usually would to Hadrian for his work in their classes, the rest of the Slytherins would also get ignored in favor of whichever House shared the class with them.

There was no look of malice about the Transfiguration Mistress, Professor Flitwick or least of all the Hufflepuff's Head of House, but their behavior had changed, just the right amount that their previous fairness had vanished without a trace. And the fact that they made it look so naturally, like it has always been so, solidified Hadrian's suspicions that this was a thing that happened quite often.

Slytherins, it would seem, would only be treated fairly only when it suited others.

And it reached far past the staff of Hogwarts.

The students of other Houses had no inclination to hide their hostility and animosity, though in the case of Gryffindor they never did, but the most disappointment for Slytherins came from a House that was a in a way similar to their own, if not simply closer in terms of inter-House relationships, who had started giving the whole House odd looks and glances, which only seemed to convey distrust and disgust.

None of the Slytherins ever voiced their feelings and thoughts of the betrayal by Ravens, they were not an emotional lot, after all, and preferred to keep things at a distance in general. When the thing was over, eventually, they would not forget the absence of their once silent allies. When the thing was over, none would offer them recompense.


In a way, Daphne found herself pleased by the way events were unfolding. Whether it was Professor Snape's words or some self-preservation instinct that drove Hadrian Potter into a faux companionship with Zabini, Davis and her was irrelevant. What mattered was that he was close enough to her now, and she had a valid excuse for the glances she stole at him.

Even in this loosely knit quartet, he had made no attempt at socializing with any of them. Occasionally his eyes would pass over hers, malachite meeting jade, but then they would move on, and he would miss a glimmer in the green eyes of the witch that had high hopes for him.

There was one incident that had concerned Daphne; when they had been leaving the DADA class after yet another wasted hour with the idiot of a teacher, Potter had stopped abruptly when they were some distance away from it and told them to wait for a few minutes at that spot. It was most likely the unusual tone of voice, the way his words sounded more than just like a request, that rooted them to the spot.

He had vanished around one of the corners in the hallway, and later when she revisited the memory and the place itself Daphne would wonder why he had gone to the girl's bathroom located on that floor. He had returned, as promised, after a few minutes, not a change in his appearance and simply rejoined them, setting their quartet in motion without explaining his odd behavior.

The Davis girl, Daphne noted, wanted to know what it was all about, but only received silence in return as Potter continued to ignore her, eventually wearing out the ever-gossiping girl in the end.

It was only by sheer coincidence that Daphne had found out what happened to Potter when he was away from their group. The Carrow twins, two girls of a rather sharp look one might say, soft brown hair, hazel eyes and a bit of tainted past of their own due to their family name, were apparently separated from their own group for a short duration, due to their need to visit the girl's bathroom, for one purpose or another.

They had thought that the sight of the two of them together would deter any potential intrusion, but it was proved a misguided notion.

Their own group had already moved away from the bathroom area, and told them they would simply meet up in the library, thus leaving them vulnerable to the pack of Gryffindor girls who had entered into the bathroom behind them and decided to berate, insult and even start to jinx one of the twins.

Before the jinx's incantation was complete, the offender was flung away to the wall, knocked out by a red-streaked spell and left alone while the other girls were being dealt with. Some might say that this was an unfair tactic, striking one from the back, but had anyone said it, they would be proclaimed a hypocrite of the worst kind.

The other girls stood no chance, but they at least managed to turn around and spot their attacker, who having seen their frightened and shocked faces wasn't deterred at all from his course of action. Quickly enough, the other four girls joined the first one, slumped down on the floor, before they were all stuck to the wall several meters above the ground, the word 'Coward' seared onto each of their black robes.

To say that Flora and Hestia Carrow were surprised by this most unlikeliest of saviors was an understatement. Hadrian Potter wasn't one to meddle in the affairs of others, and they had wondered how he even knew about their troubles. Before they could voice even a single word, of gratitude or query, the boy had simply nodded in their direction and left the bathroom.

Daphne wished to know how he had known this too, as they were a fair distance away from the place where the short-lasting spell-barrage happened, and well out of sound's reach. Was it the Bloody Baron? Was it that serpent of his? More importantly... why did he care?

A shiver had traveled down her spine as a few more other Slytherins, in their own year and some of the first-years, had brought up in whispers, that they believed went unheard by others, about being saved from situations like the ones that the Carrows found themselves in, in the coming days, by a person whom they would not name. To her a name was no longer needed, and so her hunger was fed.

An unexpected behavior from a boy who had shown no inclination for befriending anyone in their House. Some would claim that such behavior was unhealthy, but Daphne was not among those. She believed in solitude, by choice, building up more than just a person's character and it was an odd thrill to know that their very own House had harbored someone like Potter, so unassuming and so distant from them all.

It was a secret that only belonged to him and her, and she had no intention of sharing it with anyone.


The secret, which was no secret at all in the end, was not to last. A double block of Transfiguration had just ended and groups of students, the divide among them more clear than just in the colors that marked their ties and the badges they wore on their robes, were making their way to the Great Hall for a short reprieve between classes for some and a spot of late breakfast for others.

Daphne herself was among neither, wanting to go back to the common room, no matter that she would need to go back up from the dungeon floor when the recess had ended. Lately she had found herself feeling irritated by the number of looks thrown her way, far more than she was accustomed to.

The feeling of being pushed roughly out of the way irritated her even more. She quickly spun around, wand in her hand, ready to let loose with a string of hexes, and maybe a curse or two if the culprit grated on her nerves from before. Once she saw who pushed her away, her resolve to curse the person responsible faltered.

"Potter?" she inquired with genuine confusion in her voice and on her face formed a frown.

She received no reply as his wand appeared between his fingers, gliding out from his robe's sleeves, and he fired off a string of hexes of his own in her direction. Barely even hearing what spells he was using, she froze, disbelief replacing the confusion in her expression.

Just as the more rational part of her mind reaffirmed control of her motor functions, telling her to duck down and retaliate, the hexes flew by the sides of her head and the reflexes her body almost engaged in were aborted, as she now turned around and saw a sight which cracked her glacial facade and allowed a smile to appear.

There on the floor laid the twitching forms of Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan. From the welts on their faces and their spasming hands, she could see traces of the stinging hex, covering more than just one spot.

While the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived laying on the floor, so thoroughly defeated, was amusing by itself, it still did not explain why she was pushed by Potter. Apparently, Davis saw as much on her face and elaborated.

"Potter pushed you out of the way of a spell, no idea what it was, and took the brunt of it himself in the chest. It seemed to have been aimed for him originally, but you moved in the way of it. Is there something you want to tell us Daphne?" Tracey decided to tease her roommate. "Is there a particular reason why Potter would so gallantly rescue you?"

Before Daphne could shut her blabbering mouth up, a spell flew from Potter's wand, forcing Tracey's mouth shut and the look that he sported on the face was the same polite mask he wore as usual.

"Davis, it would be best to restrain yourself, lest you embarrass yourself and our House. We are not like the noble House of Godric, where the brave must lay in wait for someone to pounce upon like the proud felines that they are."

"Now then," he directed his gaze towards the still laid-out form of the would-be attackers, the wand now gone from his hand, "Is there something lacking in your diet, Gryffindors? Are you perhaps lacking in food that might stimulate that atrophied grey mass in your swollen heads and push it into a semblance of activity? What could possibly have been your reason for attacking in plain sight of others?"

No reply was forthcoming, but if looks could kill...

"Eat slugs!" someone shouted from behind them and a yellow-streaked spell flew right in the direction of Hadrian Potter, hitting its target true.

The crowd that had gathered around the hallway now made way to show who the sender of the spell was. More than just raised eyebrows appeared on the faces of both Gryffindors and Slytherins, when it was revealed that none other than Ronald Weasley had sent the spell, while his target had their back turned against him. And speaking of the target...

Hadrian Potter looked very green in the face and only managed to voice one word, 'Snape...', before he fell down to the ground and started vomiting. Not the contents of today's breakfast, but slugs as the shout from moments ago indicated. Someone from the sides quickly conjured up a bucket and Daphne made her way to Potter's side, holding his head over it, while he managed to keep some semblance of control over himself, hands and knees on the cold floor while the purging continued.

It took some small amount of time, which no doubt seemed a lot longer to Hadrian, before the familiar shape of Professor Snape appeared before them. Most of the students were still there, wanting to see how this would end, but a scowl and a threat from the Potions Master quickly cleared the hallway of all those who were not involved.

In the end, it left Daphne, Potter, Zabini, Davis and the three Gryffindors responsible for the whole thing.

"What happened here? The truth," Severus snapped at the children in front of him, his lightless eyes wandering from one student to the next. It took him nearly fifteen minutes to hear out all the students, barring Potter, about the event that happened.

The Weasley brat claimed that Potter attacked Longbottom and Finnigan first, but a surface glance at the boy's mind proved how false it was, and under threat of detentions until the end of the year, the truth was coaxed from the redheaded nuisance. Apparently, the trio, for Weasley was planning to participate in it too, had decided to repay Potter for attacking their Housemates, for which Severus expressed his explicit disbelief.

The brat might be a Potter, but has shown himself to be anything but the instigator in all the confrontations that Snape knew about. Greengrass had then explained why Potter attacked Gryffindors before; and when she was done with her explanation, Gryffindor was docked twenty-five points per the participant, for today's dueling in the hallways.

"I will speak about further appropriate punishments with your Head of House, Mr. Weasley. Now get out of my sight!"

"But look at them," Weasley pointed at his friends, now standing up right with him, but the welts still visible on their faces, "they need to see Madam Pomfrey!"

"That's another 15 points you lost your House today for not following directions. Do you wish to go for more, Mr. Weasley? Take them, if you wish, to Madam Pomfrey on your own, they are no concern of mine," he waved the brat away and turned his attention towards Potter, who was still vomiting slugs into the bucket beneath him.

"Mr. Potter, I cannot end the spell on you, you will have to endure through it, but it should not last more than another twenty to thirty minutes. Ms. Greengrass, accompany him to the Hospital wing, and here," he whipped out his wand, flicked it and a parchment of paper appearing out of nowhere appeared in his other hand, "Should anyone inquire about your purpose, merely show them this and they will let you be on your way. Ms. Davis and Mr. Zabini, away with you."


The trip to the hospital wing took longer than expected due to the continuous purging which showed no signs of stopping, despite what Professor Snape had said.

While Daphne had planned on getting closer to Potter, this was not the way she envisioned it.

Fortunately, once they reached the entrance of the infirmary, the Medi-Witch had appeared right out of her office and helped Daphne lead Potter to one of the beds where he would sit until the spell had ran its course. One blissful fact about being here was the lack of Gryffindors, who must have come and gone in the time it took Daphne to lead Potter up here.

When Daphne turned away, intent on leaving Potter, for now, she was stopped by a grip on her arm.

"Potter?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Ea..," Hadrian tried to speak, but the words were swallowed up by him heaving out yet another slug, ".. gala. Robes. Please."

It took her a few moments for understanding to dawn on her face, and with it his grip on her relented. Not seeing a way on how to take off his robes without getting messed up, she took out her wand from her robe, vanished his robes, though his pants and shoes remained, and a wand holster, of all things, on his right forearm, which certainly explained how his wand appeared so swiftly in his hand.

And right there, still coiled in tight around him, perhaps by some unconscious reflex, was his serpent familiar, seemingly knocked out. When she seemed uncertain on how to proceed, Hadrian gave her a look, a plea, that conveyed what he asked of her.

There was quite a bit of an effort involved for her to carefully disentangle the serpent, while worrying at the same time what her reaction might be if she was crudely awoken by it. In the end, she managed it, albeit it took extensive time, and the Medi-Witch apparently didn't concern herself with them once she placed him on the bed. And now the serpent laid next to him on the bed, while the heaving slowly lessened, but had not yet completely dissipated.

Daphne had chosen to wait in the infirmary, despite no need for her further presence or assistance. Her curiosity is what kept her by his side now, though she tried to keep it subdued her wandering eyes betrayed her. Scar upon scar upon scar. She tried counting them, but many of them were crisscrossed with each other and others were hidden by the angle he positioned himself in for the purging.

When she moved to the infirmary's bathroom to wash off her wands, just in case, and came back, she saw that his back was equally scarred, if not even more than his front.

There was an urge within her, to trace each of the scar, to ask for each of its tale, though she knew it would be a futile endeavor and that she would receive no real reply. It was fortunate he had his back turned to her, for the hunger in her eyes grew steadily and gazed longingly on the wiry-thin frame of his body and the markings of whatever trials he had survived. Her observation was broken by his, now more coherent, request to find and give him one of the patient gowns to cover up.

Before the hour was out, their Head of House had appeared in the infirmary, giving a few potions to stabilize Hadrian's now upset stomach and a nutrient potion of his own private mixture, to replace the food he had missed out so far and that he would miss out further in the day.

Due to the spells effects on his body, Snape had told him, he would need to avoid eating anything solid today and could only ingest some soup or perhaps milk, if need be.

Pumpkin juice or sweetened tea was off-limits, as was anything else that might contain sugar in it. He had instructed Daphne to keep an eye out on what he ate for the rest of the day, and just before leaving the infirmary, back to wherever he came from, he spoke.

"15 points per dunderhead, that you subdued today, Mr. Potter," and left the two Slytherins with involuntary grins gracing their faces.


The story about the confrontation spread like wildfire, perhaps due to the involvement of the Boy-Who-Lived, and before the day was out, Hadrian was accosted by the Headmaster and McGonagall, Greengrass by his side.

She had not left him alone since the infirmary, having apparently taken their Head of House's words perhaps a bit too strongly, though if he was forced to admit it, her presence was not an annoyance he initially thought it would be.

When he had told her to remove his robes back in the hospital wing, he had some small fear that she would assault him with a barrage of questions about the scars, but the questions never came, and he found serenity in the silence that followed her gazes instead.

His worry was not centered on himself, but more on the health of his familiar. Silently, he cursed the Medi-Witch for not checking up on Eagala, despite clearly seeing the serpent laying unconscious on the bed by his side. Fortunately, Greengrass seemed to have noticed his worry, perhaps it was shown in his eyes, and several times she had readjusted the cold reptile body, making sure she would not be squished or sat upon, should he need to lay back down on the bed once the spell was done for.

And when she awoke, her own worry and fears flowed through the connection they shared, the serpent wasted not a moment and quickly coiled herself, possessively so, around her bonded, her scales trembling and brushing against his warm flesh. Eagala had noticed the female human sitting near them, but when her bonded told her of what the girl had done for the both of them, she slithered her way towards her and nuzzled against the palm of her hand, eliciting a smile from Greengrass.

Then the accusers had arrived. Though the nausea had persisted, Hadrian still had enough semblance of a mind to wear one of the hospital patient gowns, to cover his back and front, before they had even arrived. Once they had listened to his side of the story, from which he left his actions done against the other Gryffindors who had tried cornering the few Slytherins that he had happened across himself, they laid out their judgement.

He was at fault, they said. He should have disarmed them, not harmed them the way he did. When he pointed out his familiar took the brunt of the spell they intended for him, a Stupefy no doubt, they waved it off, saying he should have put an end to it and not retaliated.

They were very disappointed with him when he told them what spell he used on them, and had they bothered to observe the other Slytherin present in the room they would have seen the satisfaction in her eyes. Morsus. An amplified version of the stinging hex, whose physical effects could be only removed by a medical salve and not just the simple counter-spells they were all taught.

They took points from his House, and some from the Gryffindors, though miniscule in comparison. It didn't matter that he was in the right here, all that they saw was a conflict between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, and who else could be at fault but a Slytherin?

"Harry, my boy—"

"Mr. Potter, Headmaster," Hadrian said with a hoarse voice that he wished was filled with as much detest and disgust he felt for the old man in front of him, playing the role of a concerned grandfather figure all too well, while the Transfiguration Professor tried boring into him with one of her reprimanding gazes.

"Time and time again, I tell you it's 'Mr. Potter'. If anyone were to use my first name, it would be a friend or a family member, and they would still use 'Hadrian', not 'Harry', not 'my boy'. I am uncomfortable with my name being diminished like that by a Headmaster, of a school where safety is often promised, but rarely delivered, with whom I have no familial ties let alone anything else."

Albus was truly saddened by the events that had transpired today. The instruments in his office had told him when Neville had been harmed by the spells Harry had flung his way without any remorse, knowing full well what kind of pain they induced in a person should they be struck with it, but he could not very well rush through the hallways of Hogwarts, and thus potentially alert anyone that he had placed, since the boy was but a babe, several monitoring spells upon his person, which though not illegal would certainly be looked upon as intrusive by some.

Often he had to bypass the morality of others, to do what was right, to put his and their own qualms second to the greater good that guided his rather unique moral compass. And when he had learned that it was Harry who had done injury upon Neville, he was deeply troubled by it.

Their parents, when they were alive, were friends, perhaps not as close as they could have been, but still friends that fought the same fight against the madness that was Lord Voldemort and his followers more than a decade ago. He wondered what they might have said to the boys to make them reconcile their differences.

Minerva was distressed. Here was the offspring of her, once, two brightest and best examples of what a Gryffindor should be, dressed in a hospital gown, brought here by the wand of Ronald Weasley. The Weasley boy was at fault here, no doubt, but would have James or Lily reacted like Harry did today?

No, James might have played a prank on them in return, and Lily would easily defend herself, but not attack, not retaliate as ruthlessly as the child before her did. Leaving the boy with the Dursleys had changed the boy, who might have once been one of her cubs, but as Albus so delicately put it back then, he had no other family to take him in, and all of them were busy in those days after the demise of the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Perhaps if they had at least taken a day or two to visit the child, to make sure his childhood was a proper one, he might not have ended up in the snake pit that he was in now. It pained her to see that a child of James and Lily Potter had no friends to call his own.

Severus and Albus both had told her, though Severus seemed less inclined to share about the activities of any of his Slytherins, let alone a Potter, that the only company the child had been constantly seen in was the ghost of the Slytherin House, the Bloody Baron. It was unhealthy for a child to be like this in a school full of other children, but she could not interfere.

He was not in her House and there was only so much she could do in between her duties.

Daphne was intrigued. The confrontations between the Headmaster and Potter, and other members of the staff that weren't Professor Snape, seemed to be escalating. For some reason she could not perceive, the Headmaster insisted on trying to be a grandfather figure to Potter, who was having none of it.

It stood to reason that this had started before Hogwarts, but then why would the Headmaster be involved in the life of one particular student?

Especially since he already had the Boy-Who-Lived to groom properly in the coming years, so that he could replace him as the figurehead or leader for the magical community of Britain. Inwardly, Daphne scoffed at the notion of Longbottom being a leader of anything beyond the dorms of Gryffindor.

Yes, there had been slight improvements in the boy's self-confidence and judging from the sneaky attack on Potter he had a side to him that was not subdued like most of him was whenever he was in Potions.

Then again, Professor Snape does tend to have that sort of effect on most people, adults and children, barring a respectable few. She wondered whether the Headmaster was purposely ignoring the refutations from Potter or was just blissfully ignorant in his senility.

His face was an expressionless mask, hiding everything away from the world, only his eyes, even when hidden behind glasses, betrayed the emotions that swirled on the inside. Daphne felt elation and satisfaction at seeing it, here was the sight which drew her to him, here was the means, the ends, the cause for it all.

With his familiar out in the open, preventing any of the two adults coming too near him, he looked ready to spring an attack and if she judged the finger twitching accordingly, Potter very much felt in the mood to either curse the man before him or simply did not wish to feel vulnerable whenever he faced him.

Observing the way his fingers twitched, wishing for a wand between them, reminded her of when they had first arrived at Hogsmeade station, before they traveled down to the docks and then boarded the boats that carried them to Hogwarts.

If her assessment of the situation was correct, Potter also had animosity for the half-breed gameskeeper. Another piece of the Potter puzzle and she did want to ever so piece it together. Perhaps even tear it apart and reassemble it to suit her purposes, but that was an idle thought that had only crossed her mind once or twice, as Potter proved to be a forever self-readjusting puzzle, an ever-evolving riddle, whose solution would be only provided by himself and could be seen by no other.


Spending the rest of the day with Potter had not been too dreadfully boring, as it turned out. He was excused, and she as his temporary custodian, of today's classes and on their way around the castle, through hallways she had never ventured forth, they had been joined by the presence of the Bloody Baron, who only allowed an enigmatic smile to grace his face when he saw her by Potter's side.

The two did not speak, as if they had moved past verbal communication, or perhaps they simply did not wish to speak in her presence, but there was an odd sense of... companionship. Potter relaxed, allowed his shoulders to drop down slightly and his fingers had stopped their twitching once the silvery shade almost-laid a hand across his shoulder.

They were accompanied by the Baron throughout the school, until they reached their common room by a convoluted way that would most likely perplex a Ravenclaw with a penchant for labyrinths.

When they did reach the common room, the Baron had said his farewells and left their side, though his ever-watchful gaze was now replaced by the looks the two were getting from the people who were in the common room. Of all the people to approach them, Marcus Flint was the last one Hadrian had expected.

The tall and rather bulkish boy grumbled something about repaying the Gryffindors for what they did to him and the rest of the younger Slytherins.

Then it clicked. Looking around the common room, he spotted those he had inadvertendly rescued when he subdued the few Gryffindor groups he had come across around the castle, ganging up on the fewer numbers of Slytherins. It never went physical, nothing like the 'game' his cousin played in Little Whinging with the rest of the neighborhood's children, but seeing someone being bullied like that made bile rise in Hadrian, and he wanted to use more than just the Stupefy spells and the sticking charms.

Oh he was no fool about it, there was no crusade here to be led by him, to advocate fair treatment of all. It's been a long time since he was disillusioned about life being fair or anything of the like, and he knew that his House had its fair share of flaws, bigots and idiots like Malfoy sadly weren't that rare, but they were subdued most of the time, yet the unfair treatment from the Gryffindors on those who had nothing to do with their ilk stoked something inside of Hadrian.

Perhaps it was the pent up emotions from his own twisted and broken childhood. Perhaps it was a misguided hero complex. He didn't care. The loosing of spells was all that mattered in the moment, seeing them fall, seeing the rare few try and fight back, that was all that made sense.

A part of him wished for more.


It started out the same, as it always had. Nothing changed since the first calling.

A dark place, with no source of light, yet the shape of a person was evident, clearly shown against the blackness that would engulf everything. For reasons unfathomable, it provided comfort.

A dripping of water. No. An echo of water falling, somewhere far, far away.

Something moving across the endless surface of water. An echo. A scent. A color. A hiss. A command. A word.

"None "