Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as I had it done but don't worry! I will be answering all reviews! :D
Pandemonium. It was the only word to describe the sudden and stark panic that gripped most of Hogwarts occupants as clusters of owls swept into the Great Hall delivering the news.
It was amusing, to say the least, watching the Boy-Who-Lived rapidly drain of colour in the middle of eating a pork sausage. Poetic, almost.
With a carefully placed gulp, to show his persona's fear and uncertainty and what looked like an amateur appraisal of his housemates; conducted with obvious shifty eyes, Hadrian allowed his reaction to be recorded by any in the hall who bothered to notice. He shaped, with an artist's precision, every detail. Hadrian counted the seconds before he clumsily attempted to appear self important and pathetically arrogant amongst his peers. As if it were his deep wish to be seen as 'part of the gang', while achingly obvious that he wasn't.
Individuals were suddenly looking at the Gryffindor hero in uncertainty, wondering if maybe his words about the Dark Lord's return now held any credence. Hadrian was in the process of reaching for his fork when a tingling on the palm of his hand distracted him. Pausing in the action, he rubbed his thumb nail across the irritated skin quickly relieving the itch.
As interesting as the fact of the breakout was, Hadrian was unsurprised and quickly bored. The Dark Lord had been growing stronger all summer. What had the Light side expected? Some of his top Death Eaters were in the Wizarding prison. His most loyal. It was an obvious move. Confident, yes, but they had faced Lord Voldemort before, had they expected anything but confidence?
Yet, the Headmaster looked pale and determined while Snape spoke quickly into his ear. Watching the pair unobtrusively he once again speculated on where the Slytherin Head's loyalty really lay. Was the man currently defending his apparent lack of knowledge from a genuine perspective or not? It was evidence of just how good the man was that Hadrian couldn't read him.
A thought occurred to him and he quickly searched the Gryffindor table for Neville Longbottom. It was always telling; how a person acted when emotional. The escape of the three Lestrange's would not doubt engender such a reaction and he wanted to be sure to see it.
Shaking, white, fit to faint it seemed. Completely and totally pathetic.
He sighed and returned to his breakfast. Longbottom was better than he had thought.
...
Hadrian absently scratched the palm of his hand as he listened to the Gryffindor Head of House speak.
"As seventh years it is my expectation that you will keep an eye on the younger students. It is a responsibility that comes with becoming legal witches and wizards; to protect and aid those less capable than you..."
Hadrian let his eyes drift amongst the crowd of his peers, noting the disinterested Ravenclaws, sceptical, yet, willing Hufflepuffs and the determined Gryffindors.
A growl of annoyance from behind him caught his attention,"...Salazar, doesn't the woman ever shut-up?"
Ah, yes, of course, the Slytherins. Arrogant; as always.
"She does. But, if I were you, I'd hope to never be the reason for Minerva McGonagall to become silent. Cat's do have vicious tempers, you know."
Theodore Nott jumped at the masculine voice currently chuckling from behind him before he turned around and sneered at the handsome man.
"Oh, don't be so sore." The man laughed, turning many heads as the person brave enough to make a sound, let alone one of hilarity, when the Transfiguration Professor was speaking.
"Mr Potter! Really!" Came the aforementioned woman's squawk of outrage.
A bark of laughter tightened the skin around Hadrian's eyes as he suppressed his mounting irritation. "You haven't been back more than five minutes and you've already got Minnie in a tizz! Prongs! You have not lost your touch." Professor Black grinned as he wrapped an arm around Potter's shoulders and hustled him through the crowd to come to a stop beside their female authoritarian.
Hadrian turned his head to the right slightly, seeming to follow the action with everyone else, as he slyly moved into the shadows cover.
"...Right! Everyone separate into you houses and we'll..."
Potter's grating voice faded as Hadrian escaped from the duelling class. He had quickly come to the decision that even though it would surprise others to know Hadrian Walker had the guts to cut a class, a fear of duelling was enough of a cowardly excuse to be readily believed in the unlikely circumstance that one would notice and then remember to follow up on his absence.
With a hiss he turned his hand over and glared at the red skin on his palm before waving his wand and silently casting a cooling charm over the area.
The whole school was tense. It was obvious. Black and Potter had been putting on a show of good humour for the children but it didn't erase the tight skin around their mouths belying their nervousness.
As Hadrian made his way back to the dorms he thought back on his turbulent summer. That night he had been summoned was one he could recall with perfect clarity. The ice which had shot through his veins and the unrelenting thumping of his heart still echoed in his ears. The Death Eaters that made up Lord Voldemort's inner circle were formidable witches and wizards, he knew that. Stories from the first war spoke fearfully of instances in a raid where one of the select few showed up. Mayhem, terror, death. He had been lucky that night, he realised. The most blood thirsty, the most loyal to the cause hadn't been there. Lucius Malfoy was the most memorable exception; however, Hadrian could appreciate his good fortune in this instance.
As unlikely as it would be, if the Dark Lord did take an interest in him personally, Hadrian would be coming into contact with those notorious individuals sooner or later.
Hadrian scoffed as he whispered the password to the portrait. To even think of the possibility of Lord Voldemort paying him special attention was ludicrous and a show of his own arrogance. Shaking his head as he fluidly stepped inside the empty common room Hadrian pushed aside the small thrill that ignited within him at the thought of the dangerous predator having an interest in him. That type of thought process, reeking of awe and submission, is what led to some of the most brilliant witches and wizards of the last century spending the past seventeen years in prison.
Hadrian entered his dorm grabbing a book on curses from the hidden and protected space underneath his bed, before flopping back on the mattress to read. Absently he reached over and reapplied a stronger cooling charm to the palm of his hand this time adding a numbing spell to the slightly burning area.
He definitely did not want the Dark Lord's interest. It could only ever lead to complicated places he had no wish to visit...And it would never happen, he was just being ego centric.
...
Rodolphus blinked open his eyes, taking in the spacious cream walls surrounding him with a lighter heart.
"Good morning, brother."
The low, familiar tenor voice coated in amused understanding, had the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he turned his heard to the right.
"Rastaban." He breathed in wonderment, letting his deep blue eyes rove the altered face of his little brother obsessively. "You've changed." He croaked, ignoring the burn of his throat.
Drawn, yet recognisable attractive features contorted to form a grin. "That's what happens after nearly twenty years Rodolphus."
Twenty years. "Merlin..." He sighed tiredly, "we were in there that long?" he asked.
His dear brother nodded, suddenly solemn. "Just about." He confirmed.
Rodolphus turned to look at the ceiling and let his breath out slowly, just letting it all sink in.
"You've changed as well." The quiet comment once again drew his attention and he silently motioned for the mirror laying innocently on his bed side table.
Rodolphus watched closely as Rastaban reached for the silver handle, noting the sickly white pallor of his skin where rich, sun kissed bronze used to reside. He glanced down at his own hand and saw the same difference.
They must look like ghosts.
"Here." He looked up into a familiar lop sided smile and felt some of his dismay and loss fall away.
"Thank-you." He murmured as he took the hand mirror, annoyed but not surprised to feel the evidence of his withered strength.
Someone must have washed him, was his first thought as he looked at his face for the first time in almost twenty years. No matter the trauma his body had been put through he was young in wizarding terms and he was glad that his hair was still the dark, thick ebony he was used to. It had lost its lustre and elegant waves but that was to be expected. His face was pale and sickly looking and his cheekbones were sharp and hollow.
He looked weak.
Pathetic.
But his sapphire eyes still possessed a flame of his fire. He was not broken, of that he was certain. He would recover. He would regather his strength, presence and domineering personality.
And then...he would strike back.
"Where's Bella?" He asked.
"Narcissa took her to get fixed up just twenty minutes ago." Rastaban responded while shaking his head. "You and Yaxley were the worst off of us...but not by much." He added quickly at the appearance of Rodolphus's scowl. He didn't like the idea that he had been in worse condition than the others.
"Why?" He snapped.
Rastaban leaned back in his comfortable chair, clearly unable to move at that point. "When the Dark Lord broke into Azkaban the guards used the protronus charm to herd as many of the Dementors that they could into the maximum security section in an attempt to have the lot of us kissed."
Rodolphus swore and narrowed his eyes dangerously on the silk green coverlet covering his body as he continued to listen.
"Our Lord had the foresight to see this move as a possibility and ordered the dementors to carry out no such orders. However, some of them got carried away. When Lucius and the others reached us they had begun to crowd around most of the cells but yours and Yaxley, being the closest to the security gate..."
"Were exposed for the longest." He finished.
"Yeah." His brother sighed, "Yaxley woke up about half an hour ago and she's only half there. I was worried..." Rastaban locked eyes with Rodolphus, "I was concerned that you may have suffered the same affects."
"I was lucky." He said.
"Yes, you were."
The silence was comforting and the air was warm and scented.
"The Dark Lord has returned then?" He whispered into the fading light.
"Yes." Rodolphus smiled.
The memorable chuckle did a lot to raise his spirits as Rastaban's cold bony hand picked up his own to grasp firmly.
"Indeed. With the Dark Lord leading us once more...ah...the wonders we will see, dear brother." He whispered.
"...You always were good at putting things aside...looking forward. I feel as if I should be doing the same." He said quietly, tightening his hold on the first human contact.
He felt the bed dip slightly and the welcome warmth of another body beside his as his brother lent down to envelop him in an embrace.
"People draw their strength, their fire from different places Rodolphus." He began, pulling back to look him in the eye. "I look to the future, I fight for an ideal or a possibility. You, my brother, fight for the people you love, past injustices and the present. You will be stronger for this, Rodolphus."
He felt a stirring in the magic surrounding him and opened his eyes. The dark smirk of his brother met his gaze; feral and wild against the shadow of firelight. Ignoring the tearing of his own dried, chapped lips he allowed his answering cruelty to stretch across his skeletal face.
"I agree, brother...Lestrange's always repay their debts." He chuckled lowly and let go of the hand mirror, revelling in the magnificent crash as it made contact with the stone floor.
...
Everything was dark and silent within the room, except for the sound of soft breathing indicative of deep sleep filled with dreams. There were curtains drawn around only three of the six four poster beds, the figures unmoving beneath dark green and silver sheets.
Emerald eyes snapped open.
A small, frail looking body hastily pushed heavy curtains aside and clumsily staggered to their feet, unable to see clearly in the dark. Movements were awkward and unbalanced, speaking of something more than ordinary tiredness. The body looked like a puppet on strings with the way it endeavoured to move; a lame, staggering puppet inaudibly fumbling its way to one of the two doors. Teeth, sinking deeply through his bottom lip, evidence of the pain he aggressively struggled to keep silent.
As open palms connected with the bathroom door, weak, delicate looking shoulders began to tremble and shake. Glowing, brilliant orbs glared at the dark wood, fingers frantically searching for the porcelain door handle. Pushing down, with more force than such a body looked capable of exerting, when connection was finally made.
Hadrian forced his pain racked, trembling limbs forward, into the marble bathroom, through sheer force of will. It was only with the sound of the soft catch of the door shutting, that Hadrian finally ripped his teeth out of his bloody and damaged lip and allowed his lungs to draw a deep, pain filled breath of air.
Sweet Darkness.
He was in agony.
Hadrian breathed heavily, staggering over to the far shower stall, clutching his hand to his chest protectively.
What was this pain? What was its source? What was the reason?
...How did he make it stop?
His mind was foggy with pain as he violently twisted the tap. Icy cold water shot from the head with thunderous pressure, beating down on his feeble frame. Hadrian's shoulders hunched in under the water's force and numbing temperature.
It was only then, at that point, with the crashing arctic water bearing down around him, that a whimper of pain escaped the bloody, destroyed mess of his mouth.
Slowly, his body sank to the white tiled ground and he wrapped his spindly arms around his equally weak knees and buried his head, clenching his eyes shut against the pain. His head felt as if it would explode under some imagined weight and his body, while zapped of energy, was being tortured and pulled but no visible marks slowed up on his skin.
He had no bearing on how much time passed before Hadrian realised that the water must be helping. Some semblance of focus returned to him as his mind fought and he gained more control over his ragged breathing. His relief was nearly tangible and Hadrian allowed his head to fall back against the tiles, the water hitting his face.
But then the burning started.
The skin around his eyes tightened and twitched. It wasn't exactly painful; at least, he frowned in confusion, he didn't think it was. Hadrian shifted slightly and the tender rips and tears in his bottom lips pulled painfully as his mouth curled. The burn was intensifying though...localising?
Hadrian gasped as that uncomfortable burn suddenly morphed into a striking hot iron focused on the palm of his hand. Urgently, he turned his hand over and brought it closer to his eyes, the direct assault of the icy water on his skin cooling the undamaged hand.
The burn promptly vanished as his eyes locked on skin.
...Was that?
Frowning, Hadrian reached up and turned off the water, his glowing green eyes not leaving his palm. There, in the familiar ruby ink of his blood elegant, cursive words were etched into his skin.
Stubborn, aren't you?
Hadrian clenched his jaw in a fiery combination of fury and confusion.
What the hell was going on? He gasped lightly in pain as those words disappeared, his skin healing only for new letters to begin slicing open his palm yet again. Eerie, red droplets of blood and water dripped from his hand, staining the white tiles beneath him.
Send your magic into your hand. Complete the spell.
Hadrian frowned at the slowly disappearing words.
It had to be the Dark Lord.
It was some minutes, as he lay there stewing in his rage at the man's arrogance, before a tingle began to scratch at the surface of his palm.
There was no way in hell that he was going to follow the instruction. The stupidity of such a blind action forced a scoff from his exhausted body and he let his hand drop limply to lay by his side.
Gritting his teeth, Hadrian hauled himself to his feet grimacing as his vision blacked momentarily and he swayed dangerously.
Whatever the Dark Lord had done to him was clearly feeding off his own magic to stay alive. An incomplete spell of this complexity, this magnitude, a spell that needed blood to spark it was unforgiving magic. If he was correct, one would need a lot of power to successfully initiate this spell; unfortunately, Lord Voldemort wouldn't have a problem with that.
Hadrian couldn't wipe the scowl from his face no matter how hard he tried. The invasion! The nerve! For Merlin's sake, the man was using his blood to fuel his spell! Whatever kind of spell it was! When did the bastard even get a chance to...
Hadrian's eyes widened impossibly.
...The train.
He eyed the yellow paper distrustfully glancing once more at the bird before breaking the seal.
Inhaling sharply through his teeth Hadrian hissed softly as the paper purposefully sliced across his palm cutting deeply. Glaring darkly at the parchment quickly becoming saturated with his blood he murmured a simple healing charm and watched with reluctant interest as the spell registered his blood and unlocked.
Flowing calligraphy formed across the parchment, the letters glowing an eerie ruby Hadrian knew was his blood.
Bold child. Too Bold.
He couldn't believe it...A connection! A link!
The glamour surrounding his eyes shattered as his fury took a hold of him.
That bastard!
...
The next few days were the hardest Hadrian had ever experienced within Hogwarts castle. His anger was constantly at the surface, bubbling and brewing, threatening to blow if his thoughts lingered for too long on the Dark Lord. It reminded him of his first year in the ancient school when he utilised his persona for the first time. He was on edge, having to watch everything he said, everything he did with a razor sharp focus. His thoughts and emotions were too out of control for him to allow himself to relax and live on auto pilot.
Added to that, the slow increasing pain emanating from his palm as the spell continued to function incomplete. He knew that that pain that had woken him four days ago was the Dark Lord's direct intention. This connection gifted the man with unacceptable level of control over him.
Hadrian believed that the Dark Lord had had to wait and collect the energy from the partial link since the day on the train before he could transmit such torture in an attempt to force him to follow his instructions, thereby, lifting all such time and energy constrictions. It was the only reason Hadrian could think of that would explain the man's silence after the event and the gradual increase of pain in his hand. Without the man there to siphon off the energy, the connection was attacking him trying to encourage Hadrian to pay the price of such an intricate spell so it could settle.
There was no way he would do that. Walk blindly into something like this.
Nevertheless, at this rate the pain would likely become debilitating by tomorrow night at the latest. The library had yielded no answers thus far. Hadrian had spent every spare moment he had within the cavernous room aware, but dismissive, of the damage he was inflicting to his artful deception.
"Mr Walker?"
Hadrian blinked quickly and looked up into the concerned eyes of Professor Sprout.
"I'm sorry." He apologised quickly, a scan of the greenhouse showing the entire class's attention was on him. Fantastic.
"That's alright dear," She smiled in a strained way. "Just try and concentrate a little better."
"Of course." He bowed his head hoping to divert her attention and breathed out silently when she turned and continued with her enthusiastic lecture.
Hadrian was in the process of gathering his books when he caught the speculating brown eyes of Neville Longbottom. The boy turned away quickly as if aware of his extremely short temper and low tolerance at present. Hadrian clenched his hand into a fist to stop the glare that wanted to pierce through the shaky hold he had on his persona and melted into the twenty or so students walking out of Herbology.
Raven still hadn't gotten back to him about Longbottom, he realised for the first time with some alarm. She could have been running late or busy he supposed but it was unlike her. Hadrian always came first in her world.
Perhaps it was his distressed thoughts, pained body or simmering emotions that caused his complete lack of focus and therefore surprise, when someone suddenly grabbed his arms and yanked him into an empty classroom, but there was no excuse for it and his fury finally erupted in a haze of self recrimination.
His wand was in his hand and violently arcing diagonally down his body before he had fully turned to face the eye of his anger.
"Wait!"
The panicked exclamation did nothing to slow Hadrian's response and a powerful bone shattering curse flew from his wand in a dangerously graceful arc. Hadrian relished the pained cry as his hex hit home but was too focused on directing the multiple spells he was furiously casting to care for the calls of his name and the plump, distressed face of the individual in his line of sight.
"Hadrian! Stop!" The angry roar finally breached the haze around his thoughts, causing him to pause in the complex construction of a mini explosion hex. His hesitation cost him. Hadrian gritted his teeth together as he was lifted off the ground and slammed painfully into the teaching blackboard behind him.
"Oh, Merlin. Sorry, Walker." Hadrian lifted his dark eyes to finally look at the person suicidal enough to curse him.
"Longbottom?" Momentarily stumped he pushed himself off the ground, picking his wand up in light and ready fingers, before slowly advancing on the crumbled form of the boy.
Brown eyes widened before the stubborn set to the mouth won out and the Gryffindor pulled himself to his feet with the help of the globe on his left. Hadrian noted that the boy wasn't putting any weight on his left leg dispassionately before he came to a stop.
"What the hell were you thinking, Longbottom?" His tone was soft but silky. The lion already knew more than anyone in Britain about him and he would use that to his advantage if he had to.
The boy was silent for but a moment, his features frozen in confusion, before a self righteous fire started under him, spilling forth his words. "I was thinking that you were about to lose it and it would probably be better if that happened privately!" He said heatedly.
Hadrian raised a brow and crossed his arms, looking totally at ease and emotionally in control. "I was about to, how did you put it again? Oh yes, 'lose it'? Was I?" Hadrian's sophisticated tone and dark voice were so at odds with his appearance Neville had to shake his head to remember his thoughts.
"Yes." Longbottom snapped.
Hadrian gave a small patronising smile all the while attempting to tame his emotions and thoughts. "And you, out of all in our class, are the only one to have seen this?" he drawled sarcastically.
"Yes." The boy shouted.
Hadrian drew back and surveyed the unpredictable phenomenon in front of him closely. The boy just wasn't adding up. Although hiding himself Hadrian was certain that he did not possess a different personality, therefore, his humouring disbelief should have shaken some of that confidence the boy spoke his opinion with. That was discounting the unrealistic belief that the boy really had seen his internal turbulence when everyone else was still blind to it.
The boy did not have the intellect, foreknowledge or ability to see all that he said he had, yet, he spoke the truth.
Hadrian continued to let the silence stretch as he thought. Without a word Hadrian raised his arm, enjoying the answering flinch, and pointed his wand at the wooden door. A pale blue ward shot out of his wand and hummed softly, as sign that the spell had been successful.
"What did you do?" Longbottom's voice betrayed a little uncertainty and nervousness but Hadrian ignored him.
"...What makes you so sure that I was about to 'lose it'?" He asked casually.
Longbottom raised his eyebrows in disbelief, "Are you serious?" He pointed to the unturned furniture in reference to the earlier scuffle.
"You took me aside after class. Something made you believe what you say about my emotional stability prior to that incident. What?" Hadrian repeated slowly while reigning in his frustration.
The boy shifted suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I don't know." He shrugged.
Hadrian narrowed his eyes. The action caused the nervous Gryffindor to shift further and cry out in pain as he accidently put weight onto his shattered leg. Hadrian didn't even blink at the evidence of his outburst.
"A little help here?" Longbottom laughed weakly as if he couldn't believe the other hadn't yet offered to assist him.
Now it was his turn to shrug. "What do you want me to do about it? Healing isn't taught in the Hogwarts curriculum."
Surprisingly, that comment had the boy glaring at him.
"Look, I know you know how to heal this. Can you just stop being such an idiot about it and help me? It's your fault anyway!"
How did he...?
Hadrian crossed the space between them rapidly and grabbed a hold of the left collar of the familiar school robes tightly shoving the injured boy into the wall.
"Enough games Longbottom. There is no way you could possibly know that I could heal your leg. There is also no way that a wizard like you could see through me when the Headmaster can't. Talk." He pushed the tip of his wand underneath his chin and allowed the naturally hypnotic, eerie green colour of his eyes to emerge from his mask to pierce the boy.
He had been willing to let Longbottom's unnatural knowledge slide until he got the letter from Raven but this was too much. There was no possible way the boy could know what he did, yet somehow, that was reality. It was too risky, too frightening to think of such an avenue being open that he had failed to consider which would expose all of his secrets. That couldn't be allowed. No matter how impossible it seemed.
"Woah! Okay, okay. I believe you."Longbottom crowed as he tried to angle his neck away from Hadrian's wand tip.
A sear from his hand had him hissing and clutching the appendage protectively, however, the increase in pain wasn't enough to distract him from the alarming possibility before him.
"You should really sit down, Walker." Longbottom's almost caring voice had him shaking his head in confusion before he once again pushed through the pain and anger to focus.
"...Shut-up. What did you mean when you said, I believe you?" Hadrian demanded in genuine confusion.
Longbottom was quick to answer, as if he sensed how impatient Hadrian was, "I meant what I said. Fine, I would talk. I believe that you won't let me out of this room without an explanation and that you are moments away from hurting me if I don't comply."
Hadrian just stared at the boy in total bewilderment. Slowly, he unwound his fingers from Longbottom's collar and stepped back to get some space.
He hadn't said anything of the sort. Granted, his body language hadn't been hard to read but hadn't the boy ever heard of empty threats? Certainly, Hadrian hadn't been employing one then, but how did Neville Longbottom know that he was seriously prepared to do him bodily harm? The boy spoke with absolute certainty. Just as he had been unable to sway the wizard into doubting his observation of Hadrian's emotional instability, Hadrian knew, without a doubt, he would be incapable to convincing his peer that he was simply a sweet, misunderstood boy that spoke big but didn't have the guts to follow through. He didn't understand how Longbottom kept coming up with the correct answers! As if...intuitively known...
Hadrian snapped his neck around from where he was staring out the window to bore into the nervous wizard. If he was right...Hadrian gathered his magic around him, shaped it and smoothed the edges. Never hesitate.
"...You're an empath, aren't you?"
Longbottom seemed to still in shock, hearing it said out loud but finally nodded back.
"It happened in the summer before fifth year. I just woke up one morning at the mercy of everyone's emotions. I could tell exactly how disappointed my Gran was in me, how much she wished that my Father was still alive. I felt every scornful and embarrassed feeling of my housemates and the disappointed confusion of my teachers when my work wasn't at the level of my gifted parents." Longbottom smiled bitterly, "But then I reached school. I wasn't surprised to feel the hate, humour and disgust from your fellow Slytherins but I was...confused." He frowned and looked at Hadrian. "I didn't even know you. For being seen as a klutz and nobody everyone always seems to at least know my name. I didn't know you. So when I walked into that first Transfiguration lesson of the year I didn't know what to think. Your emotions didn't make sense to me. I was wondering if I was reading you wrong so I paid more attention to you but they didn't change. You would try to complete an activity in class. Your face would show apprehension, concentration, envy for those who could do it...but your emotions..." He shook his head, "You were bored, amused, repulsed by those around you."
Longbottom looked to Hadrian for some sort of reaction but seemed unsurprised and unperturbed to only face a blank canvas. It annoyed him. It annoyed him that he couldn't fool such an idiotic wizard no matter how good his mask and it really annoyed him to know that Longbottom knew how annoyed it made him if that smirk was anything to go by.
"Go on." He drawled meanly but the boy just grinned as if he were having great fun.
"Well, it wasn't until sixth year that I began to think of the possibility that you were hiding your real self."
"Fascinating."
Longbottom ignored his jibe, "During the Triwizard Tournament I noticed, more than once, a few of the veela males from Beauxbatons approach you romantically. Your emotions never fluttered. You were attracted to some but it didn't drive you. Still, I beg your pardon, you are not the best looking guy in the world and it was a little strange to see them interested in Hadrian Walker. So I researched veela in the library and found that although they do enjoy attractive partners they are drawn to power. Power of magic and power of mind. Their attraction to you told me that you were one of the most powerful males in the school and your ability to push aside your physical attraction to the veela told me that you have a powerful control over your mind and the intelligence to not fall for a subtle veela thrall."
Of all the things to give him away it was the total lack of his physical attractiveness. Perfect.
"So, I don't know why you're hiding who you are and what can do, I just know you are." He finished with a sheepish smile.
Hadrian reached up to rub his temples in an effort to decrease his aggravation with the world.
"Can I ask you a question?" The Gryffindor asked.
Hadrian gave him a deadpan look which should have been answer enough, not counting his less than impressed emotions, but Longbottom forged ahead.
"Are you alright?" He asked slowly.
This time Hadrian couldn't control his irritation. "What?" he snapped acidly.
The boy flinched but recovered quickly enough. "It's just that, ever since we all came back to school you haven't really been yourself."
"Sweet Merlin, I hate empaths." Hadrian groaned into his hands. Honestly, 'you haven't really been yourself?' what was that? The two of them had talked for the first time only days ago! This was too weird.
"You're normally so in control of yourself. Unflappable. This term, it's like being in a room with an annoyingly loud singing yoyo shouting at me every two seconds."
Hadrian raised a hand motioning for Longbottom to be silent. "You haven't spoken to anyone of your ...rare talent, have you Longbottom?" he asked tightly.
"No." The boy's shoulders drooped but Hadrian easily ignored it. If the wizard was looking for some sort of camaraderie or sympathy from him he was sorely mistaken. Having moved to just above unbearable on his scale of people Hadrian had no inclination to be any type of 'friends' with the Gryffindor outcast.
"Good." He murmured to himself. Before Longbottom had a chance to react Hadrian had hit him with a light sleeping charm.
Taking a few seconds to allow his emotions to settle, Hadrian cast a quick memory charm on the wizard, making sure to erase his fluctuating emotions from Herbology as well as their discussion. He would be damned if he suddenly acquired a lost puppy set on gaining his friendship, no matter how pathetic. Replacing the missing time with an episode of two faceless Ravenclaws and a complexion hex that would last for the next three hours, Hadrian dropped the ward and smoothly slid out into the empty corridor.
Longbottom had given him an idea though.
...
Raven landed neatly on her stone porch with a soft 'pop', without pausing in her humming, she opened the door and began to shrug off her heavy winter coat.
"Blink!" she called softly interrupting the new Weird Sisters song for just a moment.
"Mistress!" Blink popped into existence in front of her a distressed look on her wrinkled green face, pulling at her ears anxiously.
"Please put this away for me Blink and would you put on the kettle? I would love a nice, hot cup of camomile tea and some of the left over fruit cake that Jade sent us, hm?" She asked absently as she searched through the five or so pieces of mail on the marble entry table.
"Y-yes, yes of course Mistress! Mistress Nadine! Mistress! Mistress!" The poor creature was nearly beside herself as she called frantically after the tall elderly witch.
Finally, the last high pitched scream seemed to do it and Raven turned around to face the distraught house elf with a small frown.
"Yes, Blink. What is it?" She asked impatiently, the warm roaring fire that was always lit in the formal sitting room dancing through her thoughts.
"There is a m-man here to see y-y-you Mistress." The creature could barely get the words out but Raven quickly spun around and focused her unique violet orbs on the elf.
"A man? You know I do not take any visitors, Blink! Where is he? What was his name?"
"Yes, I be telling him Mistress does not take visitors but he insisted that he wait. He is waiting for you in the Formal lounge area, Mistress. I being telling sir that you do not like unexpected guests but he said that he was sure you wouldn't mind. That he was an old friend, Mistress."The elf squeaked and wrung her hands together while Raven turned to look at the innocent panelled wood separating her from her unexpected visitor.
"...An old friend..." Raven whispered before clearing her throat awkwardly, "And he didn't give you his name, Blink?"
"No! No! Mistress! Sir gave me his name. Mr Thomas Riddle, Mistress. Your old friend." The elf cracked her first smile of the evening while Raven's weathered features drained of colour.
"...Thank-you Blink." She whispered. "That will be all." Her voice slightly stronger.
Picking up her skirts Raven slowly crossed the entrance foyer, her violet eyes refusing to stray from the slightly agar door. Taking a deep breath she pushed the wood aside and stepped into the ice cold room completely devoid of the raging fire she had been fantasising about on her way home.
"Good Evening, Madame Nadine." The familiar silky timbre washed over her old bones but she couldn't tear her eyes from the handsome and dangerous frame that made the Dark Lord.
She gave a short laugh of disbelief, "You haven't changed at all."
"So it would seem." He answered shortly.
Her chin lifted. "Why are you here?"
"Did you see the news Madame Nadine? The Azkaban breakout, perhaps? I seem to recall that it was your husband's words that had the Yaxley twins incarcerated. Am I correct?"
Those crimson eyes watched her in dark amusement and the sinister smirk on his lips taunted her. She didn't like to speak of the past. Only Hadrian could bring it up around her but he rarely did because it caused her pain. This man cared nothing for her pain. In fact, she was certain that he knew exactly how far he was twisting the knife lodged in her chest. He was enjoying it.
"Yes, I heard the news." She answered in a subdued tone of voice. "Why are you here?" she demanded once again.
The Dark Lord studied her for a moment before he answered, "Your adopted son, Hadrian Walker, when did you take him in?"
Raven frowned. "Why do you want to know?" She asked daringly.
Crimson eyes narrowed dangerously. "I will not ignore blatant disrespect Madame Nadine. I suggest you keep that in mind when a flippant comment next occurs to you. I am not in the habit of giving many first warnings, let alone two." His tone was pleasant but the threat in his eyes told her she wouldn't enjoy the consequences of testing him right now.
"Hadrian was six years old." Raven answered, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible, knowing she wouldn't be able to avoid any of his enquiries.
"Really...he was an orphan then?" His eyes were sharp as that familiar spark of uncertainty and suspicion coiled tightly in her belly.
"As far as I know." Why was he asking her these questions?
"And how did you raise the little deceiver Madame?" He smirked.
Her jaw clenched at the less than positive words regarding her son but she answered anyway. She didn't have a choice. "I educated him as best I could. I let him make his own decisions throughout his life. He despises people who try to control him, who limit his freedom. He was always very independent. I gave him my views but I have not forced them upon him."
"Hmm," The Dark Lord stalked slowly to the door of the room and Raven breathed a silent sigh of relief. "I believe the child needs a change of environment."
Raven's violet eyes widened and she rushed out of the room to follow the impressive figure. "What do you mean? Riddle! What do you mean?" She shouted in demand.
The curse hit her with no warning. With a gut wrenching scream she fell to the cold floor, clawing at her eyes, desperately attempting to relieve the pressure and pain. The agony eventually subsided but didn't disappear when she was lifted by her thick, silvery mane and slammed against the hard wooden stair railing.
"You have become far too comfortable Raven. You were once a force to be reckoned with. First, your husband. Now, your adopted child. They weaken you. You are a Black. You revel in the Dark Magics. Your power is substantial yet you waste it, hide from the world and covet useless treasure." The Dark Lord sneered at her pathetic form and released her, letting her battered and bruised body connect painfully with the protruding piece of marble at the base of the stairs.
"W-what do..." Raven tried to get the words out but her pitiful wheeze transformed into a racking cough halting her words. By the time she could breathe again the Dark Lord had gone.
"Mistress?" The hesitant, frightened squeak of Blink didn't reach her. Horrified and swollen eyes continued to stay locked on the wide open door in silence. Soundless, wet trails of tears travelled unrelentingly down her wrinkled and damaged cheeks to her bloodied hands.
"What did he mean...?" She whispered brokenly into the empty manor, the raspy notes of her terrified question echoing loudly through the halls.
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