Thank you for all the support and comments from last chapter! I know there's been a long stretch between chapters lately, but it really means a lot to me to have you guys constantly giving me encouragement!
I hope you enjoy this update!
Albert trailed his fingers along the edge of the tome he had lent Hadrian; absently dragging his nail across the embossed designs.
The common room had emptied in the time since their champion had been summoned away by the headmistress – the last few of their peers trickling back to their bedrooms with mumbled farewells and tired waves.
It was just the four of them that remained now.
Albert shifted in his seat, twisting until he could throw a leg over one arm of his chair and lean his head back against the other. He slouched with a low sigh, half-lidded eyes coming to rest on the huddled forms of Jacob and Claire. They were whispering to themselves, leaning against one another on the floor. Shy, soft smiles lingered on their faces.
Adorable, he thought privately.
The gentle growth of their relationship had been strangely enjoyable to witness, and though there was still some tension due to Jacob's presence, Albert could ignore it if it meant that Claire could continue to smile like that.
Of course, that decision was helped by the fact that Hadrian seemed content to let things with Jacob lie. Albert respected the other boy enough to follow his lead on this; though he did not know if he could ever be that merciful to one that wronged him in such a way.
Albert turned his gaze to the lavishly decorated roof, and once again considered his friend's strength. If he had been in Hadrian's position, betrayed by someone he trusted, he would have burned with the need for revenge.
Jacob would not have survived crossing Albert. Socially, and perhaps even literally, Albert would have destroyed him.
Hadrian was a better man than him, and though Albert had already known that fact, he could admit that the other's self-discipline was both awe-inspiring and frustrating.
Tolerance and restraint could be abused, after all, and despite his confidence and skills, Hadrian could sometimes be too trusting in himself.
But that was fine, Albert mused. It just meant that they would have to help protect Hadrian, to cover his blind spots while he focussed on more important matters.
And there were important matters going on, things that extended far beyond the tournament.
Albert was hardly obtuse. He had seen the dramatic shifts in Hadrian over the course of the year. He had seen how, more often than not, Hadrian's attention was drifting further and further away from their confined world of school and silly rivalries. He saw how those green eyes would grow distant, fixed on things that were outside of Albert's scope of vision.
He knew that Raina and Claire were privy to what was happening, or that they at least knew more than Albert did. But whatever their thoughts were, they were well guarded.
Albert did not mind the clandestineness of it all, nor could he fault Hadrian for so blatantly excluding him from things. They all had a right to secrets, and something told him that Hadrian's were the particularly dangerous kind.
Until he was ready to share, Albert could content himself with simply being in a support role.
Releasing another sigh, Albert let a small smile slip onto his face. He drummed his fingers on the tome's cover, listening to the low murmur of voices and the crackling of the fire in the hearth.
Their bubble of peace remained undisturbed for another few minutes before a familiar figure quietly exited the hallway.
Albert turned to look, and to his right Raina straightened. "Hadrian," she said, relief colouring her tone. She held out a beckoning hand.
Hadrian blinked rapidly, the pensive expression on his face falling away when he noticed them. "Hey," he greeted, making his way back to them, "what are you still doing up?"
He took her hand without seeming to realise what he was doing, and Albert quirked an eyebrow.
"We were waiting for you," he answered, watching curiously as the other boy took a seat beside Raina. "Is everything alright?"
Hadrian tilted his head, and Albert could see the thoughts flitting through his eyes. Debating whether to lie, he wondered, amused at the possibility.
"Everything is fine," Hadrian eventually said, "it was just…an unexpected meeting."
"Was it about the tournament?" Claire asked, one hand bracing on the ground to balance herself. Her blue eyes were concerned. Beside her, Jacob grimaced.
Hadrian shook his head. "No, not really. They asked me how I was recovering."
"They?" Raina prompted, and Hadrian caught her eye.
"Minister Lécuyer was there," he said, and it was odd how easily he was telling them this. Getting information from Hadrian was usually akin to pulling teeth – having him surrender it without a fight was both gratifying and suspicious. "She wanted to check in with me."
"And what else?" Jacob asked, leaning back on his palms. They all knew that while their minister was a respectable person and cared for Hadrian in her own way, she was too deeply embedded in the political landscape to seek someone out without an ulterior motive.
Instead of replying, Hadrian pulled out a single sheet of paper from his pocket and held it out to Raina. The girl took it and opened it, her dark eyes scanning it swiftly. Her lips pressed together, and her brows furrowed in thought. She did not appear to be upset, however, merely calculative.
"The auror internship program?" She read aloud, lowering the page to stare at Hadrian. "She wants you to be an auror?"
"She wants me to be minister," Hadrian corrected, and he paused to study them closely. When none of them reacted with anything resembling surprise, he huffed and shook his head ruefully. "Not that any of you seem shocked by that."
"She has been interested in you for a while, Hadrian," Raina said with a shrug. "It's not so unbelievable that she would want to push you further. You have many qualities suited to being a politician."
Hadrian did not protest. They all knew what she had said was true.
Albert watched as the other boy slumped back in his chair, noticing the weariness winding through his body. It was very late, and his conversation with the minister and the headmistress had obviously worn him down.
He almost suggested that they retire, giving Hadrian a way out from the light interrogation, but the other continued before he could.
"She wants me to consider applying. It's eighteen months, but she believes it would give me a good base to work from."
"It would," Jacob agreed, scratching at his chin. "The auror department is highly competitive, but their reputation is solid. Impress the right people and you would be guaranteed a position at the end of the program."
"That would be easy enough," Claire interrupted lightly, arms wrapping around her knees, "our Hadrian is very impressive, after all."
She winked at him, and Hadrian snorted. Jacob chuckled, tipping his head to the side as he continued, "Spending a year or two as a junior, then working your way to a more senior rank would give you a good understanding of the internal structure of the ministry, and you would meet and work with a lot of different departments. It's a good opportunity to get your name out there and build up a strong profile in peoples' minds."
Albert bit his lip in thought, his eyes sliding to the paper still held in Raina's long fingers.
He could acknowledge the quiet genius behind the minister's offer. As a muggleborn, Hadrian would naturally be at a disadvantage if he tried to enter the political arena in France fresh from Beauxbatons. Prejudices still ran deep in some circles, despite their country's attempts to pretend otherwise. But getting a foot in the door through the auror department was a more subtle and stable path.
Even eighteen months would be enough for someone as smart as Hadrian to make connections, and with his clout as a Triwizard Tournament champion, he would have quite a few people wanting to meet him.
Albert looked back at his friend and tried to imagine Hadrian three, five, ten years from now. It was remarkably easy to do so.
Minister Evans.
Albert smiled.
"Will you do it?" He asked, cutting through the silent match Hadrian and Claire had fallen into, pulling ridiculous faces at each other. He felt momentarily guilty when the light-hearted glint in Hadrian's eyes faded, but he pushed it to the side.
"I'm not sure," Hadrian admitted, spreading his hands. "I always…knew I would go into politics one day. But lately…" he stopped, looking troubled.
Albert did not miss the concerned glance Claire and Raina shared.
"I guess I had begun thinking of other professions I could go into."
"Like what?" Claire asked, voice as kind as ever.
Hadrian shrugged, a weak grin making its way onto his face. "Teaching? I think I would enjoy that."
They all fell silent at that, drawn to the faint longing in Hadrian's voice. He sounded sad, and Albert did not like hearing such melancholy in his friend's tone.
"I think you would be a splendid teacher," Raina told him after a long pause. Her face was soft with affection, and Hadrian's smile grew more solid at her comment.
"You'd be better than Professor Lavigne at any rate," Jacob remarked, joke tentative but filled with good humour.
Claire giggled, her hand flying to cover her mouth. The rest of them followed, breaking out into laughter as they thought back to their outrageous old Charms professor. The man had left before their third year, but his ridiculous teaching methods had left quite the impression on them.
"A ringing endorsement," Hadrian said dryly, though the smile he directed at Jacob was genuine and warm. "But still, I would need five years of experience in my chosen field before being eligible to be a professor, and I haven't really considered what area I would even want to go into. It was just a thought." He waved his hand dismissively as if to banish the idea completely.
"Well, regardless, you have plenty of time to think it over," Raina said, handing the letter back to Hadrian. She smoothed her hands over the cushion she had sitting in her lap. "There's no need to rush into anything."
"No, I suppose not," Hadrian agreed, tucking the paper back into his pocket. He ran a hand down his face and sighed once more.
"It's late," Albert said, sitting up and swinging his legs around. "We should turn in for the night."
The others slowly pulled themselves to their feet, taking the time to clean up the pillows and straighten the furniture as they moved.
Hadrian stretched his arms above his head, groaning lightly. "I'll see you all in the morning, then. Night."
Albert nodded in reply, and Raina and Hadrian split off, heading into the opposite hallway towards their rooms. Jacob and Claire followed, sharing a quick kiss as they went.
Albert picked up his tome, tapping it against his palm twice. He would give it back to Hadrian in the morning, he told himself. He waved his wand at the hearth, killing the fire and plunging the room into darkness.
A soft noise caught his attention, and he looked over his shoulder.
Minister Lécuyer stood just in the threshold of the other hallway; the one leading towards Madame Maxime's rooms and office.
Albert did not know how long she had been there – if she had heard their entire discussion or merely the tail end of it. Her expression was pleasant but ultimately unreadable in the shadows.
"Albert," the woman said, lips curling. "Always nice to see you."
"Minister," he returned quietly, dipping his head in a shallow bow. "Likewise."
Lécuyer stepped further into the room, her gaze darting briefly in the direction his friends had gone. Her smile deepened as she looked back to him. "Have a good night," she told him.
"You as well," he replied, watching from under his lashes as she walked to the main door of the carriage, slipping out into the night.
He sighed, closing his eyes.
OoO
Claire clicked her tongue in irritation, kicking a stray branch out of her way as they waited for Raina to join them. She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill. "This is an awful place – it feels wrong."
Hadrian hummed in agreement, his eyes surveying the clearing they had chosen for their experiment.
It was early afternoon, their classes having finished for the day, and there was still plenty of light. The trees here were not as densely packed, allowing the sun to break through the foliage easily – but there was a certain weight to the air. A subtle warning that sat around his shoulders and caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.
Inside the pockets of his blazer his hands curled into fists.
Hadrian could admit that he was uncomfortable in this place. They were only a few minutes' walk from the edge of the Forbidden Forest, not even technically out of bounds, but already Hadrian could feel his heartbeat increasing and his breaths coming faster.
The last time he had been in these woods he had almost been killed.
He swallowed around the stone in his throat. The scars on his back throbbed in time with the memories now dancing in the peripheral of his vision.
A hand gripped his bicep – not squeezing, just resting there lightly – and it was enough to reclaim his attention.
Claire stared at him in unabashed concern, her thumb rubbing soothingly over his arm. "You're okay," she whispered, and while a part of Hadrian wanted to flush at his obvious lapse, a larger part was simply glad that she was here.
"I'm okay," he echoed, and wondered that if he repeated that enough times, it would become true.
Claire's expression was tumultuous, her eyes shadowed and upset on his behalf. Hadrian brushed some of her hair behind her ear and made the effort to smile. "It will fade," he told her, "the memories, the scars – I survived, Claire. That is all that matters. It will get easier."
"Nearly losing you will never get easier, Hadrian," she replied. "Every time you get hurt, I worry that it will finally stick. That you will slip away from us forever. You are brilliant, Hadrian, and so very powerful. But I am terrified for you."
She reached up and cupped his cheek with her palm. His eyes fluttered at the gentle stroke of her thumb.
"I used to believe you were indestructible," Claire admitted, "you were always so far ahead of us all. So smart and dedicated. So untouchable and steady. I think realising that you are as mortal as the rest of us scared me more than anything ever has."
Hadrian frowned, taking hold of her wrist. "The tournament will not kill me, Claire," he said, dropping a hand on her shoulder to try and banish the grief that had made a home on her face. "I'll admit that I haven't had the smoothest run, but I'm much too stubborn to die. You know that."
The sad smile she gave him told him enough.
"And you had better continue to be stubborn," a voice called from behind them. They turned to see Raina approaching with brisk steps. "If you die in the third task, I will resurrect you just to kill you again myself."
Hadrian chuckled, stepping back from Claire. "Ah, darling, you say the sweetest things," he teased.
Raina narrowed her eyes as she came to a stop beside them. "I mean it – do not make me become a necromancer, Evans," she warned, brandishing her wand in his face.
He held his hands up placatingly, smile threatening to overtake him. "Dying is expressly off the table. Understood."
"Good," Raina said, her hands coming to her hips. "Now, shall we begin our little test?"
Hadrian grimaced. "Is it bad that I hope this won't work?" He asked, running a hand through his hair.
"I don't think so," Claire said, her earlier sorrow replaced with a contemplative tone. "I obviously do not know the man as well as you – but the idea of sharing anything with the Dark Lord, especially something so integral to his identity, is an unpleasant one."
Hadrian stared down at his boots, digging a small groove into the dirt. He doubted that Riddle would kill him if he did develop Parseltongue, but he knew that it would change something fundamental in their relationship.
And to be perfectly honest, Hadrian did not really want things to change. He liked where the two of them were; even now he could feel the gentle thrum of their bond in the back of his mind, and the thought of inadvertently losing that connection made him ache in a way he did not want to name.
"We can deal with the ramifications of this once we actually know what Hadrian can do," Raina said kindly. "It might have just been a lingering aftereffect of the ritual. It could have faded."
"Or perhaps not," Claire countered.
"All the more reason to test this. I need to know what I can and can't do," Hadrian sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Let's just get this over with."
He waved his hand in invitation, and after a quick assessing look, Raina twirled her wand in her hand.
"I had to look this spell up, but I'm confident that it will work. Once the snake is here, we can figure out what to do next." Hadrian and Claire nodded, and Raina aimed at the ground a few metres away from them. "Serpensortia."
A white light flashed, and there was the faintest crack as a snake appeared before them. Raina and Claire instantly backed away, startled by its size. Hadrian, who was unfortunately acquainted with Nagini, did not move.
He was not well-versed in snake breeds, muggle or otherwise, but he could concede that he had always held a fascination with them. This one, though far smaller than Nagini, was still stunning. Its scales were a soft green and the length of its body gleamed in the afternoon sun.
Hadrian took a cautious step forward, studying the creature carefully as it orientated itself. He cast a look at his friends, then returned his attention to the animal.
"Right," he muttered, pulling his wand out just in case. He cleared his throat, "Hello?"
The snake reared around, its mouth dropping open in warning. A low hiss escaped it, and Hadrian stilled, respecting the implicit demand.
He had not heard anything other than the hiss, no words hidden beneath the noise, but that did not necessarily mean much. Most animals could vocalise without really saying anything. Even humans could hiss.
"Hello?" He tried again, and when he glanced back at Raina and Claire questioningly, they shook their heads.
Not Parseltongue, then.
Hadrian focussed back on the snake, noting that its attention was fully on him now. "Can you understand me?" He asked again, lowering himself into a crouch with great care.
The snake blinked at him, its black tongue flickering out to taste the air.
"Still English," Claire told him helpfully.
Hadrian frowned in confusion. He tried to think of how Riddle sounded while speaking the snake language, but he had only heard it a handful of times. While he had always had an ear for languages, Parseltongue was unnatural and awkward and too inhuman for him to wrap his tongue around.
He stared at the snake, meeting its yellow gaze. Its tongue shot out again, and Hadrian got the impression that the thing was mocking him.
"Look, you stupid legless lizard," he snapped, his frustration getting the better of him, "I don't have time to mess around with you, so if you could just tell me if you can understand me or not that would be brilliant."
The snake's upper body snapped up off the ground, its mouth opening wide – and Hadrian would say it almost looked surprised.
"You speak?" A voice, soft and rasping and undeniably coming from the snake, rang out in the clearing.
Hadrian's stomach dropped even as his heart soared. A cold flush erupted on the back of his neck, rolling down his shoulders and making him shiver.
"You understand me?"
The snake shook its head, eyes closing. "You speak strangely, human. Broken."
"But I am speaking?"
The snake dropped back to the ground, slithering closer. "You smell like a speaker," it told him, not answering his question as it circled around his ankle and up his calf.
Hadrian, thoughts moving fast, barely noticed.
"But also not," the snake continued, head cresting his thigh, and slipping around his hip. "You smell like a halfling."
"Halfling?" Hadrian murmured, his hand hovering uncertainly as the animal slid around his back and under his blazer. He shivered at the drag of it against his shirt, feeling the powerful muscles contracting around him. It was not squeezing him, but he realised quite belatedly that he was letting a potentially poisonous creature coil around him.
The snake poked out from his lapel, and Hadrian recklessly reached out to press his hand against the flat of its head. He did not know why, but he always thought that snakes should feel wet. This one was dry and smooth, its scales gently rubbing against his palm as it climbed higher.
He blinked, shaking his head lightly to focus himself again. He forced his mind to still and the words to flow.
This experience was hard for him to understand. It was not anything like speaking English or French. He could hardly tell the difference in his cadence, but if he concentrated –
"What – what do you mean 'halfling'?""
The tongue flickered against the bare skin of his neck, and Hadrian twitched. "Not a full speaker. You smell old but new. Strange. A baby." It let out a long, drawn out and vibrating hiss. Laughter, Hadrian realised with discomfort.
"Where are your parents, little human?"
Hadrian bit his lip, holding himself still as the snake wound itself over his shoulder now. It curled around to his front; head raised away from his body enough to catch his eye.
It was hypnotic in a way. Hadrian felt some of his anxiety bleed away the longer he stared into that vibrant gaze.
"Gone," he said quietly. "My parents are gone."
"Pity," the snake commented, "but you are strong. You will grow without them."
"Hadrian?" Someone whispered, voice tight with apprehension.
He turned his head to see Claire and Raina staring at him. Their faces were pale and their bodies were fraught with tension. Claire looked distressed, one hand gripping Raina's sleeve while the other held her wand at the ready. Raina, despite her evident anxiety, seemed more fascinated than outright afraid.
"Well," she began, a light tremor in her voice, "I think it's safe to say that you can speak Parseltongue."
"I can understand it well enough," he corrected, "but speaking...apparently I need some work in that department." He peered down at the snake again, clearing his mind and focussing on those reptilian eyes. "Off. Off."
The second command did the trick. The snake's tongue shot out one final time, before it began to unwind. Hadrian held out his arm, allowing the creature to slither down his limb and drop onto the forest floor.
"My friend will send you back now. Bye," Hadrian said, rather sillily in his mind, then gestured for Raina.
The snake let out another hissing laugh. "Goodbye, little human."
It got another metre, and Raina promptly banished it back to wherever she had pulled it from.
Hadrian leaned back, and it was only when he went to stand that he became aware of the fine trembling of his body.
Adrenaline, he identified distantly, and swallowed the sudden pool of saliva in his mouth. He sat himself down carefully, not trusting his legs at the moment. In an instant, Claire was beside him. She waved her wand over him, casting a diagnostic spell.
"I'm fine," he assured her, eyes helplessly drawn to where the snake had been.
"I shall be the judge of that," she said sternly, keeping a hand on his shoulder, both in comfort and to steady him. "Are you dizzy? Experiencing any nausea?"
"No," he answered, "I'm not in shock. I just – I guess it just hit me. Shit. What am I supposed to do with this?"
Raina settled on the other side of him, her dark eyes brimming with academic interest – tampered though it was with concern. "What was it like?"
He scrubbed his face.
"It sounds exactly like English to me. Maybe because that's technically my first language? I don't know. There is a subtle undertone to it though. It's not enough to distract but...it's distinct. Speaking though –" he winced. "It took more effort than I thought. It doesn't fit in my mouth right. The words aren't meant to be said by a human, so it feels weird."
He looked at them curiously, arms linked loosely around his knees. "What did I sound like?"
Raina and Claire shared a heavy glance.
"Like a snake. You went in and out in the beginning, but when you did speak it was…" Claire hesitated, lowering her wand and gesturing vaguely.
"You sounded beautiful," Raina cut in. "It was musical in a way. Low and crooning."
Hadrian's eyes fell to his hands in contemplation.
He had never thought of Parseltongue in that way before, but now that Raina had said it, he could not help but draw the comparison himself.
Riddle speaking Parseltongue had always sounded so nice, even as it had registered as a threat in his mind.
He paused, then snorted at the thought.
If there was ever a description that suited the man, it was that. Beautiful, but ultimately deadly.
"So," Claire said, rubbing her arms to ward off the chill. "You can hear it and mostly speak it. Do we know why?"
Raina tapped the tip of her wand against her chin. "It could be anything, really. Depending on what actually caused the transfer – it could be the blood, or it could be the soul bond between you." She hummed, eyes lowering in thought. "Perhaps the amount of blood we used was not enough to transfer the full ability? Or maybe it's because the bond is still so new, and things haven't settled yet? Maybe with time the ability will manifest fully and you'll be able to speak it more easily?"
"It's normally genetic, isn't it? Maybe there is something particular about the Dark Lord's vocal cords or mouth that allows him to speak it?" Claire suggested, brows furrowed.
"He doesn't have a forked tongue, if that's what you're asking," Hadrian told her dryly.
"You would know," Raina muttered from the corner of her mouth. Hadrian felt no remorse when he jabbed her in the side with his elbow and nudged her to the ground.
She laughed, sprawled beside him and completely unrepentant.
Hadrian shook his head at her, and then at Claire when he saw the humour shining in her blue eyes.
They enjoyed the lull for a while, before eventually Hadrian tipped his head back and released a long breath. "We might have to try again," he said.
Raina made a noise of agreement, playing with a fallen leaf.
"Whether it is once or a hundred times more, we will be right here with you, Hadrian." Claire said.
Hadrian smiled, and swooped forward to press an affectionate kiss to her cheek.
"Thank you," he said sincerely.
OoO
Sirius knocked lightly on the door of Lily's bedroom before he slipped inside.
It had been over a day since she had holed herself up in her rooms, and though Albus had assured them that she was merely resting, Sirius could not help but be concerned.
Lily did not do well on her own.
The room was dim, the thick curtains pulled across the windows, allowing the shadows to thicken. Sirius hesitated for a second, unease simmering low in his gut at the gloomy sight. He took a breath to steel himself and closed the door behind him, cutting off the light from the hallway.
"Lily? Lils, you okay in here?"
There was a rustle, and he squinted as his eyes adjusted. He could make out the shape of someone on the bed as they sat up.
"Sirius?" Lily asked, her voice hoarse.
"Yeah," he said, stepping closer and lowering himself onto the mattress beside her. She shifted, tucking her legs under herself and leaning against his shoulder. "Are you alright? We hadn't seen you in a while, I got worried."
Lily licked her lips and opened her mouth, only to close it a few seconds later. Defeat was written in every line of her body, and some part of Sirius mourned for the brilliant, sharp young woman he used to know. He reached out and took one of her hands in his, holding it tenderly and running his thumb over her knuckles.
"Am I a bad mother, Sirius?" She whispered, fingers curling over his.
Sirius paused, considering his words carefully. "I don't think I'm the one you should be asking, Lils."
Her expression crumpled at his gentle rejection, but she still nodded in acceptance. Thoughts, dark and troubled, swirled in her eyes.
He frowned, leaning forward until she dragged her gaze to his.
"What happened, Lily?" He asked, shaking his head in confusion. "I know that your fight with Hadrian upset you – but there's something else bothering you, isn't there?"
Tellingly, she glanced away.
"Hey," he coaxed, nudging her lightly. "Lily, talk to me. What's going on in that big brain of yours?"
Lily looked as if she tried to smile at the old joke, but it fell flat. "It's something Albus said to me," she started, still refusing to meet his eyes. "I guess…I'm just trying to understand what he meant – what it would mean. He was…vague."
"That's his speciality," Sirius commented. He settled more comfortably and gestured for her to continue. "Tell me what he said. Maybe I know something that can help."
She took a shuddering breath, then nodded sluggishly. "We were talking about Har – about Hadrian, and his decision to…to stay out of things from now on. And I was saying that I didn't think there was anything we could do to change his mind. He's always been a stubborn boy."
Lily stared at the wall for a long moment, clearly caught in her memories, before she blinked rapidly.
"I told Albus there was nothing we could do – but he said 'what if there was?' and I don't know what he meant. He wouldn't tell me what he was talking about, and I'm – I'm scared, Sirius."
Lily turned to look at him, green eyes glassy and distraught.
Sirius sat back, breathing in deeply to try and grapple with the sudden swell of rage that overtook him. His hands grabbed the blanket, twisting the thick cover in his fists.
"That's what he said?" He asked, hearing himself distantly, like he was speaking underwater. His mind automatically rushed to the worst possible scenarios. "Hadrian said no, though. He thinks he can – what? Make him do it? That sounds like – that sounds like compulsions, Lily. Like he's going to force Hadrian to fight."
She bowed her head, "That's what I was thinking too. I told him that Hadrian wouldn't, I said we'd lost him…but he seemed so sure."
Sirius released the blanket, but his hands were racked with tremors. "You said no, right?"
She did not reply.
"Lily," he snapped, "tell me you said no."
"I didn't know!" She cried, shooting to her feet, and turning her back to him. She wrapped her arms around herself as if to hide from his judgement.
"I – he wouldn't tell me what he was talking about, and I didn't know! I'm so confused, Sirius! I didn't want to say anything because I didn't know what I'd be agreeing to – or what I'd be rejecting!"
She ran her hand through her hair, spinning back to stare at him with desperation. "I'm so scared," she repeated, "because a part of me wants to know so badly, and another wants nothing to do with it."
"Of course you shouldn't want anything to do with it!" Sirius snarled, standing as well. He flung his arms out in agitation, "Lily, compulsions are wrong. Even the weakest ones are considered illegal in some countries!"
"We don't know if that's what he meant," she tried, though her voice wavered with doubt.
"It doesn't matter what he meant," Sirius insisted, his anger cooling but not diminishing. "It doesn't matter what he wants to use – compulsions, blackmail, whatever. Hadrian doesn't want this. Do you really think he'll accept being used by Dumbledore? Do you really think he'll take any attempt to control him with grace?"
Sirius let out a bruising laugh. "That kid would tear himself apart before he let that happen. Is that what you want?"
Lily shuddered before him.
"Is it?"
"No," she croaked.
"Then you need to stop whatever he's got in mind before he can get it off the ground," Sirius said firmly.
"We're jumping to conclusions," Lily murmured, sounding so incredibly worn. She rubbed at her forehead. "Dumbledore wouldn't…"
"You haven't been here," Sirius interrupted, voice becoming hard. "You don't know half of the things Dumbledore would do now. What he has done to keep the Order running these years. Whatever he wants to use to get Hadrian on board – it isn't good."
Lily slowly shook her head, "What are you…?"
"You need to listen to me," Sirius said lowly. "If Dumbledore is planning to use a compulsion of some sort on Hadrian, he wouldn't be able to just shake that off – and even if it's not a compulsion spell there are still plenty of ways to control people without their knowledge. You think Dumbledore wouldn't use something Dark on Hadrian?"
Sirius laughed again, and Lily's face paled sharply. "If he thought it would give him an advantage, he'd do it in a heartbeat."
Lily hunched over, eyes slamming shut. "I just want my son back," she said quietly. "What would you have me do?"
"How about not stripping his choice away from him? How about not invalidating his decisions?"
Shame, hot and ugly, spilled across Lily's face. She dropped back onto the bed and covered her face with her hands. "I never –"
Someone rapped on the door. Sirius and Lily stiffened.
"Potter?" Mad-Eye's gruff voice called through to them. "Black? You two in there?"
Sirius frowned, straightening as Lily cleared her throat and called out. "We're here, Alastor."
They shared a confused look as the door swung open, and Mad-Eye's scarred face appeared in the gap. His one good eye darted between them suspiciously, while the magical one rolled erratically in its metal socket.
Sirius' hands flexed, some unnamed instinct in the back of his head prickling in warning. And that feeling was justified when Mad-Eye opened his mouth. "Dumbledore's called a meeting. He wants you downstairs."
Anxiety immediately flooded him, a persistent buzzing under his skin. They did not have a meeting scheduled for another two weeks. "What's it about?"
Mad-Eye shrugged, the gnarled flesh around his lips twitching with frustration. "He didn't say. Now, hurry it up. We haven't got all day."
Sirius had known Mad-Eye for two decades now, had met him almost from the day he had graduated Hogwarts and been inducted into the auror department, and he knew what the man looked like when he lied.
His stomach dropped.
Lily stood, her arms nervously fluttering close to her chest before dropping to her sides. "Of course, Alastor," she agreed, though her eyes flashed with the same confused unease that was plaguing Sirius. She attempted to smile and gestured for Sirius to move towards the door.
He frowned but did as he was bid. The three of them left the room in silence, broken only by the deep thump of Mad-Eye's wooden leg hitting the floor in uneven steps. As they started down the staircase, Sirius turned to catch Lily's eye, trying to convey his doubts to her quietly.
Lily's expression was grim and unsettled.
Neither of them believed it was a coincidence that Dumbledore had summoned them just now.
Shit, Sirius thought venomously as they reached the first floor and made for the large dinning room. He paused for only a second on the threshold, grey eyes scanning the scarcely occupied room. He easily spotted Dumbledore at the head of the table, with Emmeline sitting beside him sporting a stern frown. Dedalus was a little further down from them, his hands twisting nervously atop the table.
Tonks and Cedric were also in attendance, Sirius noted with apprehension. His cousin perked up when he entered, her eyes – big and golden today – stared at him. He tilted his head in question as he approached the far end of the table, and she shook her head slightly.
Sirius' frown deepened.
Clearly, Dumbledore had not shared his reasons to the others yet.
"Ah, Sirius and Lily," the older wizard greeted, smiling at them kindly. "It is good to see you both. Come, take a seat. We have much to discuss."
Tentatively, they both did. Mad-Eye lumbered up further, foregoing a seat and standing behind Dumbledore's right shoulder as a silent sentinel.
Sirius studied the others critically, his right hand lightly tracing the handle of his wand under the table. The sense of wrongness persisted, festering in his mind the more he saw.
"Where is everyone else? Remus? Kingsley? Molly and Arthur?" Lily asked, casting her gaze around pointedly at the range of empty chairs.
"They do not need to be here for this meeting," Dumbledore told her simply, folding his hands in front of him. "I thought it best not to pull their attention away from their assignments, or families, in Molly, Arthur and young William's case. I've no doubt that we can settle things between us."
"Settle what, sir?" Cedric asked, leaning forward, his head tilted quizzically.
"How we can bring an end Voldemort and his reign, my boy."
Silence met that declaration. Cedric sat back in stunned confusion, and beside him Tonks looks equally uncertain.
Sirius traded a loaded look with Lily, and saw his fears mirrored there.
"I thought it was only Harry – sorry, Hadrian that could kill him?" Tonks said, splaying her hands in question. "I mean, the prophecy –"
"Is still in effect," Dumbledore assured calmly. "Young Harry is the only one capable of killing him, that has not changed."
"But…" Tonks' expression twisted, "didn't he say he wanted out? Did he change his mind? Shouldn't he be here for this then? I mean, I guess school is still on, but if we have a way to take Voldemort out, then shouldn't he know about it? So he can…you know…do it?"
Dumbledore dipped his head, acknowledging her point. "Harry has not reconsidered his current stance. He is still unwilling to do his duty."
Underneath the table, Lily's hand crept to grasp Sirius'. Her thin fingers curled around his tightly, griding his bones. Sirius hardly noticed, too preoccupied trying to control his breathing. He did not like this one bit.
"I'm confused," Cedric admitted, gaze darting between Dumbledore and Lily. There was a sharpness lurking in those soft grey eyes, thoughts spinning and connections being drawn. "Hadrian is supposed to kill Voldemort, and he doesn't want to, but you're saying we have a plan…?" He trailed off, turning back to Dumbledore in invitation.
"The purpose of this meeting," Dumbledore began, "is to propose an idea that might help…persuade Harry to do as the prophecy foretold. If his emotions are blinding him, if they are stopping him from doing what is right, then we must provide him the motivation to look past it. We must help him see the truth and complete his destiny."
Sirius unstuck his tongue. "And how do you want to do that?" He asked harshly, a throaty growl coating his words. Tonks and Cedric both looked at him in concern.
Dumbledore's blue eyes pierced Sirius from across the table, and he wondered when they had grown so difficult to read.
"As I mentioned to Lily," the man said with a nod in her direction, "in my youth I studied many fields, and learned many spells and rituals. Persuasion was a topic I investigated…thoroughly. And I believe there is a ritual that might help Harry to overcome whatever emotional obstacles are holding him back."
Hearing it from Lily had left him burning with rage, but hearing it firsthand from the man himself…Sirius had never felt this cold before.
"What ritual?" Lily asked, her voice small in the large room.
In response, Dumbledore pulled a small glass vial from his sleeve. The liquid inside it was red.
"This contains some of young Harry's blood. Before Voldemort attacked you that night, I had taken a few samples. Do you remember, my dear?"
Lily nodded dumbly. "You said it was for protection. That we could use it for wards or – or charms to keep Harry safe."
"Yes," Dumbledore appeared pleased that she recalled. "We used a small amount in an attempt to prevent Harry from entering his name in the goblet – but as we all know, someone else saw fit to nominate him instead. An oversight on my part, I will admit." The man's mouth curled down in guilt. "But this remaining blood should prove enough for what we intend."
Sirius was shaking his head, the movement slight and barely noticeable. Horror began to crawl through his veins. Something close to betrayal clogged his throat.
"The ritual I mentioned was rather common in more ancient times. It was typically used by old wizarding families to manage their more unruly children – to temper their rebelliousness and make them more amenable to their parents' wishes." Dumbledore smiled at the disturbed expressions on Cedric and Tonks' faces. "Fret not. It fell out of practice many centuries ago, but it is not as controlling as it sounds. The ritual merely plants an idea in the recipient's mind that they then carry out. Back then, it was only used when children did things that threatened their own safety or the reputation of the family. It doesn't hurt, and the recipient wouldn't even notice the suggestion."
"It still sounds awful," Tonks said, and her hair turned black with her mood. "I don't think – I mean, it sounds like Dark magic, sir. I'm not sure…"
"It's compulsion," Sirius cut in, disgusted. "You can wrap it up in as many pretty words as you want – it's still compulsion. You're still stripping his will away from him –"
"I am not," Dumbledore denied evenly. "The ritual will not suppress Harry's will or autonomy. It merely functions as a seed that will prompt a certain behaviour. Harry will still have full control over how he interprets the suggestion, and how he decides to act on it."
"You're still forcing him to do something he doesn't want to do." Sirius snapped, and it was only Lily's death-grip on his hand that stopped him from lurching to his feet. "He's said he doesn't want to be involved. And here you are talking about spitting on his one request and wanting to burrow into his mind to turn him into some unknowing puppet?"
"Harry is the only one that can stop Voldemort," Dumbledore told him, tone hardening just a touch. Sirius immediately noted the way Emmeline, Alastor and Dedalus tensed. "His decision to step away from this has put the fate of this entire country in jeopardy. His…affection for Tom is clouding his judgement, and I cannot in good conscience allow Harry to fall further into Tom's orbit than he already has."
"You're missing the point, Albus," Sirius snarled, his anger a roaring thing in his chest now. "Hadrian is seventeen. You want to force a boy to take on a man you yourself can't even beat? He's not strong enough. He's still in school for Merlin's sake! There's decades of difference between them!"
"Harry is an intelligent young man," Dumbledore countered, tucking the vial of blood back into his pocket. "I have no doubt that he would be able to get Tom alone and to lower his guard. They are close, and if what we have observed is true, Harry's affections are not one-sided."
"Wait," Cedric said, genuine shock on his face, "Voldemort likes Hadrian? What?"
His question went unanswered.
"So," the derision on Sirius' tongue burned. "Instead of pitting them against each other in a duel, you're expecting Hadrian to – what? Poison him? Get into his bed and stick a knife in him while he's distracted?"
Lily flinched, but Sirius was too riled up to pay her much mind.
"I expect Harry to go about it in whatever way he deems most appropriate. He knows Tom best, and Tom is too invested and too arrogant to suspect Harry as a threat now that he thinks he has severed himself from us. He will want to savour his perceived victory, and Harry will use that to his advantage."
"It won't work," Sirius snapped, slamming a fist on the table. His eyes briefly caught the sharp jerk of Alastor's arm. "And I won't stand for it anyway."
"The choice isn't yours," Dumbledore told him sternly, staring at Sirius in disapproval. "The only one of us that can initiate the ritual is a blood relative. A parent. Only Lily's decision matters here."
Instantly, they all turned to her.
Lily stared back at them, her green eyes huge and her pale skin chalk-white with dread. Sirius could read the conflict openly playing on her face, and his stomach churned in fear.
"Lily," he started, tightening his hold on her hand.
She tugged free of him, hands coming up to cover her face as she began to tremble. Her breathing was coming too fast, her shoulders curving up as she struggled to contain herself. "I – I can't," she whispered, shaking her head rapidly. She looked up at Dumbledore, tears spilling down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Albus. I can't. I can't approve of this. Not to my baby. I can't do it."
"My dear girl," Dumbledore said softly, standing up slowly. Sirius grabbed Lily's shoulder protectively, eyes trained on the older man – and fuck the relief he felt at Lily's words was crushing, but it was strangled by the pounding worry building in his heart.
He could not recall a time when he had ever looked at his old headmaster and thought danger.
It was all he could think now though. He could almost hear his mother's voice echoing in his ears.
"You can't trust anyone, Sirius. Especially those above you."
Dumbledore held his hands aloft, but from someone who could do wandless magic, all Sirius could see was a threat.
"Lily, please. You must reconsider. We need Harry to defeat Voldemort. Look at what Tom has already managed to do to him in such a short time. He has taken your devoted son and broken your relationship into pieces. He turned him against you in a matter of months. Do you truly believe he will stop at this? Do you want to leave your son in the hands of a monster?"
She shook her head and rose to her feet as well. Sirius stood beside her, watching his long-time friends rally around Dumbledore. Only Tonks and Cedric remained separated, though the war was evident on their young faces.
"I broke us," Lily said, her voice cracking. "Voldemort might have been the chisel, but I was the hammer. I pushed Hadrian away. I made those mistakes. I want my son back more than anything – but I…I can't do this. I can't risk it. If I did this, I'd lose him for good. He'd never forgive me."
"Lily –"
"She's said no," Sirius hissed, stepping in front of her defensively. "This isn't up for discussion! I can't believe you'd even bring this up in the first place! It's Dark magic and you just want to –"
"Like you have a right to complain, traitor," Alastor suddenly spoke, derailing Sirius at once. His shoulders dropped.
"What did you just call me?" He asked, stepping back, almost ramming into Lily.
Alastor sneered, the expression turning his face fierce. "You heard me, boy. You must have thought you were so clever, slipping away that day – but I saw you. Not much this eye of mine can't see through."
Sirius' eyes widened as he realised.
"I saw you sitting in that little café with your pretty cousin. Talking like old friends – like she isn't one of the highest-ranking Death Eaters, like she wasn't married to her slimy politician of a husband. The fucking Minister's wife."
"Narcissa isn't a marked Death Eater," Sirius retorted without thinking, and winced when Tonks gasped.
"You really went to see Aunt Narcissa?" She demanded, swinging around to pin him with her eyes. There was desperation and hurt swimming in those golden depths. "Why, Sirius?"
Alastor snorted, "Because he's a turncoat. Finally showing his roots. Selling us out to get himself a sweet deal. Huh, Black?"
"Shut the fuck up, Mad-Eye, you don't know shit!" Sirius barked, though his anger was merely a mask for the terrifying ocean of panic swallowing him. "Why were you even following me?"
"I asked Alastor to," Dumbledore admitted, and though his stance was apologetic, his eyes were hard. "I was growing concerned with your changing behaviour. When you left so suddenly without informing anyone, I sent him after you. And it seemed we were right to be worried. Though I did intend to broach the topic with you privately." Here, he gave Mad-Eye a warning glance.
"Now that it is out in the open," Emmeline said, also rising to her feet in a smooth motion, "perhaps Sirius can explain his duplicitous actions. Death Eater or not, Narcissa Malfoy is considered to be in Voldemort's inner circle. What could you possible have to say to her – what could possibly prompt you to arrange a meeting with her?"
Her face remained placid, her hands clasped in front of her, but Sirius still felt like the walls were closing in around him. With Dumbledore, Alastor and now Emmeline standing untied in front of him, he knew the time for talking was at an end.
He did not reach for his wand, but he loosened his shoulders, prepared to move the moment things broke down. Lily's fingers tapped him on his back, out of view of the others. Some of the tightness eased at her silent support.
"Fine, you want to know why? It's because of this," he jerked his chin at them. "It's because I look around at us, and all I see are people willing to hide behind a child. I see a group that for years now have done nothing but twiddle their thumbs and wait for someone else to come in and fix things. When's the last time we did something, huh? When's the last time we made a difference?"
He laughed, coarse and crackling. Tonks and Cedric stepped back, but Sirius could not bring himself to look at his little cousin and see the potential condemnation on her face.
"Life, society, people – they've all moved on," he told Dumbledore. "Britain isn't burning down around our ears. Most of the things you were warning us about haven't even happened, for Merlin's sake! Muggle hunts? Light families being executed? If you actually walked the bloody streets, you'd see what I see."
He gestured towards Cedric, "Light children are still allowed in Hogwarts. The curriculum has barely changed. Hell, from what I've heard, it's not that different from what they're teaching overseas!"
"And what about the muggleborn initiative?" Emmeline snapped back at him, her earlier patience fraying. "Kidnapping children? Oblivating their families? You'd abide by those kind of ideals?"
"Fuck no," Sirius spat, "but hiding in the shadows and throwing a kid at a Dark Lord doesn't sit right with me either! Do you even hear yourselves? Hadrian said no, so your solution is to have Lily plant the suggestion in his mind and make him do it? What the hell have we even become if that's seen as our first option?"
He stared at Dumbledore, searching desperately for even a hint of shame. Something, anything that could show Sirius that things were not lost. That he could still consider these people his friends.
But Dumbledore was like ice.
Sirius could feel his heart cracking. The ground beneath him was unsteady, and he knew he was seconds from falling into the blackness below.
"You're not the man I thought you were," he whispered, shifting his weight. He felt Lily move back a step with him. "If this is what the Order stands for then I can't be party to it. Not if it means sacrificing Hadrian."
The tension within the room was smothering, and Sirius – through the pain and betrayal and anger – readied himself.
Dumbledore blew out a long sigh, eyes fluttering. "That is a shame, Sirius. You had always been so firm in your support. To see it come to this hurts me." Those blue eyes bored into his, and Sirius swallowed at the absence of any kindness in that old gaze.
"Alastor."
Sirius reached for his wand, but he was not fast enough to block the stunner that slammed into his chest.
He heard Lily cry out once before everything went dark.
We're definitely in the final leg of CS now! A lot of things will be happening soon!
As always, my tumblr is 'Child_OTKW'. Come along if you want to discover theories, scream at me, discuss my new snippets or get some behind the scenes commentary! Thanks guys!