Whether it was crude or not, Hadrian James Potter knew it wasn't a coincidence that he was born with the ability to see fate twisted at his own hands. He saw others playing with death, the strings that only he could see on their wrist, as they picked and pulled unintentionally, until Death paid them a visit.
He saw when the Dark Lord had entered the room, door astray, his mother, broken, fallen to the ground, wand pointed at him. He had watched with curiosity as the black string from her wrist fell to ashes, a green light spurring in front of his eyes. His own string only tightened.
Now fifteen-years-old, Harry couldn't help but think, was the sting of it all too much for him to bear?
The crinkling he heard the vague soundwaves from was somewhere in front of him. Hadrian was a normal boy, he was raised with good morals, a kiss on the cheek every time he left home. He sighed, rubbing his forehead, inquiries burning. His fingers found his strings, a red one, a black one, and a blue one. The red one had an endless trail, it stung his heart when he tried to unravel it. He could never find where it ended, he had realized at the age of four (4). He deducted that it was love.
The blue one had nearly three (3) inches in length. He recalled getting a cold, and he watched the little blue thread dwindle down, till its edges were frayed - he deducted it was health not long after. He was careful to keep on track, even after the time he had gotten a terrible injury that sufficed in a long scar on his leg, he had been plenty scarred after seeing that string dwindle down to halfway. It was only three months later it went back up.
The black one remained tight on his wrist. He had no feeling of either three of them, just as he could see the others'. He remembered Aurora Alisa's, her blue one plentiful, her red one tied with hers of her boyfriend. Hadrian remembered thinking - no, knowing - that it was true love, fate that had bound them together.
He remembered picking at his own.
Then he remembered Daphne Greengrass', her red stringe burned off at the edge, he knew she would never find love, no matter what. Only a forced marriage could've ever produced an offspring. He remembered feeling sadness and pity till she sneered at him, one of her own House, threatening she'll slap him if he didn't remove the pitiful look on his face immediately.
Then he remembered Draconius Malfoy's, his was the terror that still remained in his mind. Although Draco prided himself on being naturally pale and strikingly handsome, Hadrian knew that it wasn't the case. His natural beauty was, yes, utterly beautiful and fitting for the male, but his paleness was never the case. He was terribly sick with a disease that killed him slowly on the inside.
Hadrian shuddered at the thought. He remembered Hermione Granger's red string tied with Ronald Weasley's, his lips turned into a sneer just at the thought. The blood-traitor and the Mudblood, his nose wrinkled in defiance.
And then he recalled the one enigma he had yet to unravel.
Kamren Ciardullo.
An Italian beauty, Kamren was known to be the next Ciardullo heir, her parents were killed off at the age of nine. He remembered meeting the Ravenclaw for the first time, as first-years, his shy smile and her broad and arrogant smirk. She held mischief in her elegant hands. Kamren was a dainty soul, but she was less of sweetheart and more of a poltergeist. She could usually be seen plotting something in secret with Peeves. She inherited all of her family's wealth, all their properties, and was single-handedly - with some counseling - handling all six businesses, earning more wealth by the second. Her grades were below average, but she was known for her quick thinking and agility in dueling and such. No boy ever tried to cross her, and the same went for the other gender.
Kamren's strings, however, were nowhere to be seen. She seemed like a ghost, and yet, whenever Hadrian tried to touch her physically, he found that she was very much real.
Sighing, he thumbed the page, glancing up once at Kamren's messy handwriting on the crinkling letter.
"Keep it down, would you?" Hadrian scowled rudely, feeling his lower arm burn as he struggled to mute his annoyance with the summons of the Dark Lord.
Kamren gazed at Hadrian, raising a perfectly-shaped eyebrow inquiringly, a ghost of a smile flickering over her thin lips as they were. "And?" she smirked, pulling the quill up to her mouth, showing off her pearly whites as she gazed at her friend.
Hadrian wasn't swooning, like any other person would be doing at this moment. He had been used to her antics already. "Stop." he muttered crossly, already vexed at the fact that his left hand could barely write because of the Mark.
Kamren, was perhaps the only Dark one in Ravenclaw, and it was known that she was. She had made it especially known, parading with short sleeves, branded with the Mark at such a young age - young as thirteen! - flicking her curly hair as she strode down the Corridors, teachers staring agape at the Mark.
Alike as they were, when Hadrian tried to explain the Strings to her, Kamren had promptly called him insane and continued on with their session of intense studying - or, studying to him, and making things burn to her.
"Why should I?" she demanded with a pleased undertone. "You were the one who started it," she accused tersely. Kamren certainly wasn't skilled in the art of conversation as Hadrian was. She was more blunt, more nebulous in her word choices, but they still got the point across.
Hadrian, however, made sharp and concise cuts, straight to the point, and the lurk of it all burning through his fiery tongue-lashing.
"You're no fun." Kamren pouted when she received nothing but a well-given glare from the other. "You call me here to study when all we do is study. What's the point? I could be stuffing gum in Filch's open mouth right now while he snores off."
"Is that what your shrewd mind thinking about all day?" he quipped back, not even looking up. He knew, however, that Kamren winced from the jab.
"Well," she paused. "My full potential has yet to be revealed." her voice was dangerously sharp. This is unusual, Hadrian noticed, looking up as he stared at Kamren. The two were outcasts from their Houses. Hadrian, yes, branded with the Mark as many of the other Slytherins were, he was known for his sociable and tact personality, a diplomatic view about life that made others assume he was pretentious, when in reality, the few he knew and were close with understood that he merely wanted to make it known not to mess with him, because if you did, it probably wouldn't have a very pleasant ending.
Kamren, was the sole Ravenclaw branded with the Mark. Everything was unusual about her. Her abilities were below average, and yet, she was placed into the House that was most. . . intelligent, per say. Many said she would have a better chance at being a Slytherin, and the fact that she was constantly seen either plotting away with Peeves or chatting about nonsense - a one-sided conversation, Hadrian would insist if confronted - with none other than the Slytherin outcast himself, Hadrian Potter, Boy-Who-Lived. Hadrian had terrible tendencies to snap easily, he wasn't the hero Dumbledore made him appear to be, and with a finger in every pie, he held control easily. He was second to that prowess, second only to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, whom everybody believed dead and gone.
Hadrian had said nothing on the part when confronted by the literal whole of Hogwarts. Even when Draco, nervous as he was, approached Hadrian, he didn't respond, merely quipped back with a sharp retort that evidently told him to leave.
Hadrian himself knew practically nothing, and if Snape wanted to talk to him, he was awaiting the other's first move.
It was expected, however, when the rest of Hogwarts took his silence for a "yes", all in terror of his return. Hadrian hadn't seen the man yet, he had woken up with the Mark - there was no escape. Kamren couldn't remember how she even received hers, so Hadrian dismissed it.
"I found out an interesting fact," Kamren had begun to speak during Hadrian's thoughtful silence.
He looked up briefly to give her a questioning look.
"The Slytherin Prince, the ones that we supposed were evident to have the Mark, were parading around, stating that they were nothing but Light and didn't want to be associated with the Dark Lord. And here is the fact; they didn't have the Mark." Kamren leaned forward. "So it seems like we're the only two who do have it, other than the adults."
Hadrian paused. His mind clicked in rapid succession as he fiddled with the corner of the book. "They could've just used magic to cover it up. They could be spies. The other Slytherins - maybe even from other houses - could be hiding their true identities. Literally anybody could have it." he tightened his lips.
Kamren's eyes glinted, instead of rethinking her decision to tell him this, knowing fully well she'd be outsmarted.
"Yes, but that's the thing. No students have disappeared from school today. And even Draco and his buddies are outside, sprawled on the lawn, discussing quietly about the Dark Lord and whether or not he had actually returned. It seems that their parents aren't saying anything about it. And nobody is clenching their arm like you and I are," she pointed out, a smirk on her face.
Hadrian hadn't even noticed his left hand had gone limp at the loss of blood, his bony fingers tightening on his arm.
His eyes flicked over to Kamren, noticing for the first time that her arm was tightly wrapped in a bandana, pain flickering in her eyes just slightly. Her walls weren't that weak.
". . . Maybe they were so well hidden that you didn't notice they left." he felt defeated. He knew there was no way anybody could get through either one of them, much less both of them combined. He also knew that he had been less observant, and Kamren more these days, to compensate for each other. That was just a fact.
"I'm sure I would've." Kamren replied, her eyebrows furrowing. "You know it's true." she pointed out to him, lashing out, crossed that he hadn't told her he was wrong and she was right yet.
"That's not our concern." He insisted. "We'll find out at the Gathering on Sunday, when we head back for spring break."
Kamren bit back a response, he could see that. She sighed. "That's fucking forty-eight hours, Potter. I'm not waiting that long. I want answers now."
"You'll have to." he responded stiffly, seeing there was no point in this conversation.
Kamren looked back down at her book, and again, Hadrian found his eyes lingering on where her Strings should be. He recalled the time where he had made her stand still, and had looked everywhere, her wrists, her neck, her ankles, her feet, her fingers, her toes, her hair, her face, behind her ears. He was so utterly confused. Why hadn't the Strings been there?
Kamren had gone back to absentmindedly doodling, he could see her quill scratching, and her finger stroking the parchment in an effort to get the ink to smudge, so she could do her oddly accurate ink-splattered sketches.
"Recognize?" Kamren flipped the page, Hadrian looked up. He saw a portrait of him that made his ego grow larger, his pride jumping higher. He was. . . in awe at her abilities. The inanimate drawing and him, they were so, so, so, alike.
"I'm not as good-looking as that. Only Malfoy would ever pride himself on his prude looks." Hadrian sniffed with disregard.
"I drew you well and you know it," her voice was cheeky, a smirk balanced itself on her attractive features.
Hadrian found himself smiling along. ". . . Alright, fine. But you can't go parading around with that drawing." he warned.
"Nobody'll recognize it's you! You're too ugly to look like this," she threw a well-placed quip at him, causing Hadrian to roll his eyes at the amateur joke. "You obviously can't detect true beauty even when it slaps you in the face." he was tempted to slap her in the face at his words, but refrained from doing so as he heard faint footsteps grow louder towards their table.
He realized that his was possibly even more amateur - but he felt the satisfaction as Kamren opened her mouth, before closing it, wondering what to respond with.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Madam Pince glared at the two. "I don't know what your measly couples are doing, but, get your nasty kissing out of my library - and what is that? Have you been spilling ink on my table, girl?" she snarled, leaping forward, fingers outstretched at Kamren.
Hadrian raised an eyebrow as Kamren stood up, matching Madam Pince's glare with a level-headed one of her own. "Of course not. Who would dare spill their precious ink on these filthy tables of you?" she replied crossly, picking up her stuff and leaving the library.
Hadrian held back a laugh, following in rapid succession.
Hadrian found himself sweating as he came back to the Potter household for the break, instead of going to the Dursleys. He preferred his aunt and uncle, along with his cousin better than the Potters. Sure, they sometimes forgot about him, but they still treated him like he was there, and not just a filthy nuisance. However, the Dursleys had gone on vacation early, and had sent an owl in advance to Hadrian. Hadrian had found himself angrily ripping the letter apart upon its arrival.
Now, the Potters, his rightful parents, were a whole different story. They didn't hit him, no, it would never happen, he would personally murder them if they did, but they treated him with stony and blank stares. He knew they resented him for turning to the Dark for solace - but what could be done? They neglected him, drank, smoked, left him on his own for so long, it was a miracle to the five-year-old when he ran into the pair of Death Eaters, as they looked in surprise at the foolish boy who had run up to them, begging to be part of the Dark. They understood he was underfed, mistreated, he wore clothes too small for him, so they relented.
Till they found out about his potential and identity.
Hadrian Potter.
The Boy-Who-Lived, the one that stood up to the Dark Lord. Hadrian realized that it was Death Eaters that had found him, and he had begun to learn by himself. He read, he stayed up till the depths of the night to practice. He created an identity that adults knew as diplomatic and charismatic, and students knew as conceited and detached.
He was manipulative and cunning, he was rude and bashing, and his tongue-lashings were fiery and dragon-like, a smoky breath that intoxicated you till you later went on with your life, plagued with harsh diseases.
Hadrian had dropped the sensor of "magic detection" from the Ministry of Magic long ago. Magic fed himself off, he could live without any necessities, but he couldn't necessarily live without magic.
Startling green eyes reflected from the light-proof window on top of the door, he flicked his hair back away from his eyes, lowering his gaze. Silence reigned over the boy, he wished Kamren was here more than ever.
But she had left for Moscow already, to be there early for the Gathering. Hadrian had felt his pain grow to be more intense in his left arm, he hated the feeling. Rubbing his arm absentmindedly, Hadrian unlocked the door, pushing it open. A redhead had turned her back on him when he entered, brushing past his mother and heading up to his bedroom. It probably had become a pigsty.
Surprisingly, he found it empty and stripped bare. Only a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk remained. Hadrian flicked his wand, his luggage landing under the wardrobe, and his shoebox he used to keep all his personal belongings set itself on the bed. He then whispered, "Muffliato,". Then, he set a locking charm, although doubting it would hold. He set his wand holster to have ever-lasting space, shoving in some parchment and an extra pair of clothing. Disabling the Non-Disapparition Charm, he dressed quickly into his dress robes, packing the last bit of his stuff and setting up wards.
Taking a deep breath, Hadrian Disapparated.