Author's Note: This is the fourteenth installment of 'When Darkness Sings.'

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Rating: T

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A sharp, unsuspecting cry broke the silence.

"She did what!?" A vase flew across the room, shattering when it hit the wall. A sound similar to a growl echoed across the room, eyes burning in the dim light as lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth gleaming. "How did it get across the wards? How? How!?"

Whispered voices, people scattering as a chair was hurled across the open space. A door opened, someone stomping down a flight of stairs. A door slammed shut. Portraits rattled on the wall, the occupants within them grumbling about fools and idiots messing with forces they know next to nothing about. A breath rattled with an unnamed emotion, eyes narrowing as they turned to the man sitting behind his candy-laden desk, and then, "I think you have made a serious err in judgment, Albus."

"How so?"

Unblinking, disapproving eyes, "Wolves are notorious for their ire when it is sparked."

"I had not been aware of your knowledge on werewolves."

"I'm a feline for a reason, Albus," A swish of robes, a door opening with a whisper of sound, "He knows, Albus. Fall from favor, and all will pay for it."

It was early morning, and the last thing Harry wanted was to be pulled from his slumber by a surprised shriek. He rolled over onto his side, Salazar's coils adjusting around him, before he slowly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees to see Draco on his backside staring at something sitting in the middle of the room. Brow furrowing, Harry crawled across the bed, and the blond's eyes widened.

"Stay where you are, Hadrian!" Harry paused, and then his head cocked to the side before he looked over the edge to see a large, fat spider on the ground. Its front legs were raised, quivering, and a large smile crossed his face as he slide his legs off the bed and landed on the floor. Across from him, Draco exclaimed, "What are you doing, you nitwit!?"

Harry ignored him in favor of the large insect, entranced by the impossible size. Running a finger down the back, watching the two legs in the air still in their threat, he smiled. He hadn't seen a spider in a while. In the back of his mind, he felt Salazar's irritation as Harry scooped the large, eight-legged creature into his hands. The front legs fell, and Harry watched with a wide smile as the spider's legs brushed across his hands before beginning its ascent up his arm to rest on his shoulder where it brushed his cheek.

Had the spiders missed him too?

A moment later, Harry felt Salazar coiling around his ankle. 'Foul creatures, those eight-legs. Foul they are, this one thinks.'

"H-H-Hadrian!" Draco's outcry was enough to have the door creaking inward, and then he saw Mrs. Malfoy pausing in the doorway with her pale skin losing all color. Harry blinked, and then smiled before gesturing to his newest friend perched on his shoulder as Draco grasped the volume of his mother's skirts, voice quivering, "He picked it up, Mother! The spider, he picked it up right off the floor!"

Harry reached up, and petted the large creature as Narcissa said, "Draco, the thing which you refer to is an arachnid."

"A what?" Harry mind wrapped around the same question, and he heard Salazar hiss in annoyance as the snake muttered, "Why do two-legs give other species such complicated names?"

Draco blinked up at his mother as Harry watched the two in bemused silence as Narcissa answered, "A spider, Dragon. An arachnid is a spider."

Harry filed the word in his mind, determined to ask Tom for more information on such things as Draco said, "Hadrian picked up a spider, mother. Surely that is not safe."

"I cannot see reason for you to worry considering he is fine." Harry agreed with her. The spider danced down his arm, and Harry juggled it between his hands as he smiled. His friends would never hurt him. He shivered when he felt Salazar brush against his hip, the scales brushing across his skin as the snake hissed, "This one cannot fathom why they like you, hatchling. Perhaps your friend in the odd shaped tree can shine answers on that."

A good idea, that, Harry mused as he watched Draco talking to his mother. A moment later, he frowned. Do you think will know what the shadow-thing is?

Salazar hummed in thought, but did not answer. Narcissa turned her gaze upon him a second later, and asked, voice gentle, "Hadrian, dear, do get dressed. Breakfast is in an hour, and Lucius will be eating with us this morning."

Harry beamed, and then held up the spider with large, hopeful eyes. Narcissa swallowed, voice strained as she said, "I suppose the arachnid can come to breakfast with us as long as it does not do anything which would, shall we say, threaten those at the table."

Harry couldn't even get that thought around his head. Spiders hurting people?

What kind of world did these people live in?

Whispers drifted in the wind. Rumors.

Pansy sat at the table with her parents, her mother's voice light as she spoke with her husband. Like the others, she had told her parents the news of the Malfoy's findings. Hadrian Potter. It was odd, she mused as she carefully ate her bagel, how the Hadrian Potter ended up in the home of a Malfoy. It went against all logic, though she knew her parents were discussing the same thing.

"I do wonder if Narcissa and Lucius found out why the boy left home." Pansy eyed her father, wondering how he would answer her mother's question with something that would satisfy her own questions. Mr. Parkinson set his knife aside, and leaned back in his chair as he eyed them before he said, "There are many things I think, though I am unsure of which could be true. Lucius and I have a hand in the Ministry, and all things considered, the files all suggested he was living with his muggle relatives."

He frowned for a moment, and then added, "For all intents and purposes, if the Malfoys are refusing to release him to Dumbledore even after a formal request, then the matter at hand is a serious one. The press is unaware, as is the Ministry. The only way either will come up is if Dumbledore makes this a matter of law."

"Which is unlikely," Pansy mused aloud, unawares of her parents gaze. A gentle hand landed on top of hers, and she turned to her mother as Hawthorn asked, "Is there something you know, Pansy? Something you saw?"

Pansy worried her lip, and glanced over at her father before she answered, "He has magic, Mother. Powerful magic, I think. Mr. Malfoy had been intent when he questioned Potter on it. Even Draco had been intent, and you know what he is like! Then there were the bruises..."

"Bruises?" Her father sat up imminently, eyes narrowed. "What bruises, Pansy?"

"On his arm, Father." She responded without thought, and her gaze met her father's as she added, "I saw it, when he summoned one of the books in the room to him. It looked like a hand-print, though it was fairly light. It vanished a moment later, though, but I am certain it was there."

"What you saw was an impression." He said a moment later, and then his gaze shifted back to his wife as he added, "Magic can do many things. If he is strong at such a young age, it is possible that the other children's magic may have reacted to it."

Pansy agreed. Millicent, Theo, and Blaise reported similar occurrences. Was it accidental magic, she asked herself?

Or was it something more?

Harry followed after Draco, the two of them running through the halls of Malfoy Manner. The blond was quick, his steps sure, but Harry was faster. He darted around the blond, a light touch landing on his friend's shoulder, before he vanished around the bend. He heard Draco laugh, and a smile pulled at his lips as he slipped into a room and up a flight of stairs. Having been with the Malfoy's for over a month, he knew every hall and cranny of the manor as well as he knew the Dursleys' house.

Tag had never been so much fun.

He felt Tom's diary heat up a moment later, and, smiling, he darted up another flight of stairs. He knew it would take Draco some time before he doubled back to check these rooms because he had hid in them the last round. Harry always made sure to never hide in the same place twice, not one after the other, so he knew he would have a few minutes to talk to his friend. Slowing down, and sinking behind an old couch covered in a white sheet, Harry smiled. He pulled Tom's journal from the small pack strapped to his hips, something Narcissa made him since she saw he was often carrying his art supplies and a few notepads around with him.

She was really nice, he mused as he fished out a quill and a vial of ink. He flipped the page open, and smiled when he saw Tom's words written across the top of the page: Harry?

Afternoon, Tom. Harry knew Tom was getting anxious. The full moon was the following day, and they could begin the process of getting him out of the diary. Rocking back on his heels, he eyed the page as Tom asked: By any chance, are you playing hide-and-seek with Draco?

Blinking, Harry answered: I'm hiding right now. Draco's a good seeker, you know.

The pages seemed to hum with amusement at his words before the response came: Intriguing thing to say, child. I do have a task up for you. Would you like to help me with something?

Harry's face stretched into a smile: What do you need me to do?

Books were something he would never, on any given occasion, read. In school, the teachers often compared getting him to read was like pulling teeth. At home, his father never bothered. His mum did not push the issue, but he knew she had seen him in his room flipping through the various books he had found. As far as he was concerned a year ago, he would never have given up any of his spare time to flip through endless pages in a book that never ended to learn something about his cousin.

But he was. The diary was filled with information, and there were experts from the writer's first years in a magical school. While it had been exciting, it had taken endless days and night of stolen moments of reading to get where he wanted, and, now, he was feeling confused and frightful of the things being explained. Scared, and hopelessly sad, he knew the journal was ending because the pages were slowly starting to thin out.

Blood Wards are a form of ancient magic and seldom used due to the association with Blood Magic. I know that, when He comes, there will be no other choice. If I cannot persuade him to spare Hadrian, my little Harry, then I can offer a different protection for my beloved son. Dudley swallowed, and leaned back in his bed as he held the diary in his grasp. This book, detailing so much, explaining so much, was the only way he could understand. He hadn't expected a month to pass before he was able to find the information to become available. The book was magic. He had read hundreds of pages, and yet the diary in his hands was still thin as could be. He didn't understand how it worked, but he was relieved that, for some reason, it was allowing him to read the contents despite him being a normal person. A muggle, he believed. He will come. I know it. Sometimes I dream, and I see what will happen. I fear for Hadrian. I fear for James. I fear for Remus, and the wolf within him once things come to be. I fear for the hardship this will heap on Sirius's shoulders. I fear for the nightmare of Peter's betrayal.

Dudley trembled with an emotion he could not name, his eyes wide. It wasn't the first time he read her mentions of her fear, the things which were to come. He glanced over at the clock on the wall, seeing it was a little past eleven. Midnight was closing in. Turning his gaze back to the diary, he continued to read his aunt's confessions. I hope Tuney can forgive me for the hardship I will place on her when my son is old enough to meet her. As long as she is married to Vernon, I cannot trust her to protect Harry. I have seen the man, I have seen the darkness in his soul, and I fear it. I fear he will be Hadrian's undoing. I fear so many things. Yet I have to pretend to be strong because, if I do not, then James will begin to fear as well. I suspect he knows time is running out. I fear he knows He will kill him in the days to come, but he dares not ask. He knows I cannot answer.

Blood Magic is powerful, but it comes with a price. Magic comes with a price, though I suspect very few are aware of such a thing. Even the purebloods of the world have forgotten the truth, the strain it puts on our souls. I hope Albus will do as I have asked. I hope that Remus, despite his status, will be my son's guardian. Or he will do as I asked on the last I have asked, that, in some way, my dear friend will aid in my son's protection. I know Albus. He's a good man, or so I thought. Will he protect Harry? Will he protect my son? My blood? My family?

Confessions. Dudley read the last line over and over, a tear trailing down his face as he learned about the woman his aunt was. A kind lady, though he knew his aunt was unaware of the truths her sister was forced to take on. Lily Potter nee Evans, mother of Hadrian James Potter, and aunt of the boy who was seeing into her very mind, was a complex lady. His gaze returned to the last line again, and, with a heavy heart, he mouthed the last sentence: I know my fears will not be swayed for I know the truth: tonight I will die, and the victory the world will savor will be the calm before the storm; Merlin have mercy on us all.

Darkness had fallen hours before, and the air was heavier still.

Glancing out the window, Harry could see the shadow-beat prowling around the barrier surrounding Malfoy Manor. He knew the others couldn't see it, though he and Tom had yet to figure out why. He was beginning to draw his own theories, something Tom advised he do, and then they would talk about it. His friend was a brilliant teacher, and lessons in the Malfoy Manor were intriguing. A lot he did not understand, most of it taught from an early age, but the books lining his bookshelf were worn from use. He studied them relentlessly, knowing that he could understand Tom better, that he could understand himself, if he was able to understand the world he was in and what it meant to be there.

Glancing at the book resting in the middle of the room, perched on the foot of the bed, he knew the main problem was due to the fact that Tom was trapped within the diary. He figured his friend was restless, feeling trapped and helpless, but Harry knew their solution would lessen the impact the cage the pages tended to be. He also knew their conversations helped, though Tom was often temperamental and didn't like disobedience.

He really was a king, Harry mused as he glanced at the clock. The minute hand moved past midnight, and Harry smiled as he sat in the window-seat. As late as it was, he couldn't bring himself to care. His mind turned back to the conversation he had earlier in the day as he stroked Salazar's scales, the serpent lying in his lap asleep, coiled upon himself, and Harry closed his eyes. Harry could pull the restraints open with a bit with a bit of his blood, and it was something he and Tom had discussed. A part of him would be free, one link in the proverbial chain broken.

I will be able to use a small portion of my magic, Harry. I won't be able to leave, and I'll be weak as a babe, but my magic will grow. I had another way, another purpose, for this diary of mine, but now things are different. Harry had not understood what Tom had meant with that, and, upon questioning, Tom had answered: After a certain amount of exposure, I would have been able to draw upon the other's life. It was a defense mechanism. From what the few books you have been able to share with me, it was well thought out on my part. There are many who would wish to kill me, who would want to destroy my diary if they realized I was in here, and that's why I cannot stress the importance of keeping me a secret.

Tom had assured him that he had no intention of hurting him, and Harry knew his friend would protect him. Tom was a good person. His mind switched back to the conversation, and how he ended up in a book in the first place: There is a form of ancient, forbidden magic that allowed me to store a part of my soul in an object. I had found out about that, and, wanting power, wanting to be someone great, I had not hesitated to do so. It would make me immortal, immune to death. I was sixteen, young Hadrian. Like any child my age, I feared death. When I made my first Horcrux, I may have made more. What you have in your hands in half of a soul. The other half of me? I have no way of knowing what became of my body and the soul in it. If I had continued splitting my soul in half, I would have lost all reason, all logic, and all sense of self-preservation for a goal which would have lost all meaning in time.

Everyone made mistakes, and even Tom, as strong-willed as he was, admitted as much with a flowery choice of words. Harry understood his desire for finding the remaining pieces, for learning what had happened to the other soul-holders, but he wasn't sure how he could do that. He was only eight years old. In three years, he knew, he would go to Hogwarts. He would be able to do more, but, until then, he would do what he could to help his friend with his pursuit of freedom.

Well, as free as he could be in a situation like his. A movement drew his eye from outside, and he saw the shadow-beast change directions before pressing up against the barrier, its form flickering with what looked like sparks of electricity. He remembered Dudley putting a wet finger in an electric-socket, and what had happened after; the creature outside looked like that, only worse - far worse.

Tom was going to know what it felt like to be free. Harry was sure of it. He had to be. He could not see Tom in any other situation than that. Someone like Tom was a leader, a King waiting to take his Throne. The only thing he knew, though, was that Tom needed his help. Tom needed him to keep the soul in his hands safe, to keep it secret, but he was unsure of how he could manage such a feat. All that mattered, in his eyes, was Tom's freedom and the throne waiting to be reclaimed by its king.

As he sat smiling in the window-seat, the creature prowling outside, Harry knew he would do anything to help his friend obtain it.

"Awake?" Narcissa glanced over at her husband, lips pressed into a tight line. "No, he is not awake. I put him to bed with Draco's help. He sleeps."

Lucius Malfoy sipped at his wine, and as she watched him set the glass on the arm of his chair, his pale fingers tapping a rhythm into the base of the glass, she remained silent. She sat her hands in her lap, wand under her fingertips, as Lucius glared into the flames. He was silent, and, glancing over at Severus, she was uncertain about how to proceed in this tense silence. She was about to open her mouth when her husband spoke, "Hadrian James Potter, eight years old, is staying in our home when he was the one to take Him down in the war. A malnourished child, mute but as alert as any of us, who was placed in a muggle household under Dumbledore's orders. A child with a highly venomous serpent as a familiar, and apparently, has a fondness for spiders."

Narcissa had a feeling she knew where this was going, and, breath held, she listened to him continue, "Something does not add up. These things,"

He held up a thick file, his eyes narrow as he continued, "tell a rather interesting tale. I am uncertain of our Cause with this in my hands."

"Lucius," Severus sat his cup on the table, brow furrowed as he asked his pale friend, "What have you uncovered?"

"The old fool and the Ministry seem to have some secrets, shared ones at that, which make me question what I was led to believe during the War."

Narcissa watched the folder hit the table as her husband cast it aside, his voice like ice as he spat, "Lily Potter nee Evans had a will, you see. In it, she specified that her son, one Hadrian James Potter, was to be placed in the custody of Sirius Black or Remus Lupin, both the godfathers of the child in question, should anything happen to her and James Potter. This was James's wish, and it was one she agreed with. However, there is an additional name to the will, one which she added without her husband's consent."

Narcissa frowned. Lily Potter doing something behind her husband's back? With her hands folded across her lap, she watched as Lucius turned his gaze on Severus with a sharp gleam in his eyes, voice low as he hissed, "Yours."