Notes: this story has been inspired by Raven of Drumstrang written by Verkos. Though thats the only connection that this story has with the other, as I have written this with drastically different views and story plots. I truly hope that you enjoy it.
Warnings: mere mentions of child abuse, gore, and blood will be shown in future chapters, if you're looking for that, you're in the right place.
Disclaimers: i do not own Harry potter, or their characters.
Summary: After an attack on Drumstrang Institution, Hadrian Romanov is send to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to complete his fourth year. Dark forces are rising, along with dark buried secrets not meant for your ears. ((Inspired by Raven of Drumstrang written by Verkos.))
Remembrance
Thought you were beside me
But i reached over and the ghost smiled
Sometimes I see you, and I ask
Are you lost?
Where are you now?
Am I going to find you again?
Are you alone?
Are you afraid?
Now I'm reaching for you
Will i see you again?
The tranquility held over the vast field made only perfect by the sun rays of the early morning.
Not something that many of the Isles would think when thinking of the dark Drumstrang Institution. It was made to last until the last century, old stone and bricks soaked in old magic by generations of previous students, and protective wards.
"Take cover!"
So it came to an icy shock when the it's fortress walls came under attack.
The thousand-year-old wards alerted, and rang throughout when the initiation attack occur. Too early from their schedules, students were half-crazed as the walls shook and trembled. Professors and guards stood in line as they dueled and battled outside the massive doors of Drumstrang.
"Don't falter!"
Spells were spilled in frenzy, half shouted as the battled rigged into a stall, more and more support from foreign ministries aided in battle.
"Retreat!"
It was over as quick as it begun.
It shaken the core of the stable of one of the most influential schools in Europe, a foundation that now stood in trembling ground.
Unlike the Isles, the countries and their respective ministries held each other in communication, and support. Any problem one had triggered the others into action as well.
But, unfortunately, it came too late for Drumstrang. Many unprepared students were caught in the claws of cruel fate from each side of the battle, drawn and slaughtered. Professors were hit the hardest, as many weren't even awake when the first wave of attacks occurred.
Now, it left the school in a crossroads. Too understaffed, walls broken and mere dust, broken bodies littering the once strong halls. They couldn't teach in such conditions, which now left the question;
What to do?
It became fairly obvious for even a blind man. They had to split the students, send them away to foreign schools or be stuck at home to be schooled.
This is where Hadrian Romanov came into the picture.
Orphan boy, left behind during the "war" with Voldemort, and held no ties to the Isles other than his birth. No one but a select few knew of his roots, much that no one particularly cared.
He held a high score, the word prodigy looming over his head, in dueling and defense, but apart from that, held an above average in other in his classes.
He's bright, and successful when putting his mind into motion, already being heir to the Romanov fortune and rich history. A heir, that a long with a good spoil of scandals, was now being held hostage by his "aunt."
"Now, Hadrian, remember your manners. Keep— Oh, for Merlin's sake! Please listen to me!" The woman held her silk skirt in desperation for her nephew. She huffed as the boy in question, finally, turns his attention towards her. The boats and student lines held his attention more.
"I'm sorry Auntie, I wasn't listening." Well, at least she can't complain he wasn't honest. It did little to sooth her nerves.
A deep chuckle flowed through, the man that watched, unmoving, amused at the scene. He knew how much the boy liked to ruffle her feathers. The man held himself proud, his clothes fitting and proper, even for a casual stroll in the Park.
Natalie turned to him, an exaggerated expression on her face. "Barton! Don't encourage!"
He blinked in mock confusion, and held a strong hand on his chest. "Why, you wound me! Such foul accusations on your beloved husband of ten years! The nerve!"
Natalie rolled her eyes, in an attempt to keep everything under the illusion of control, she tentatively placed her delicate hands on her child's broad shoulder.
His face is still too serious, and she found herself every night wishing for him to express himself more. But, like Barton said, its all part of the charm.
She could hardly believe just how big her baby has grown. Gone was that little runt with rosey cheeks, puffed wild hair, and timid eyes. That one held himself with wobbly knees, and too big shirt that almost swallow the poor thing, and when he turned his doe like eyes on them, they stood no fighting chance.
Her baby, like a strong tree, has grown and stretched into the horizons. Tall, broad shoulders, hair cut and slick back, with that too- serious expression. But, like any good mother, she saw the amusement he held inside whenever he witness their "fighting."
And the only remainder was that crude lighting scar, marring the perfect unblemished skin. Only a old family spell managed to hide such horrid, mangle remainder.
A reminder that this wasn't her child by blood.
She sighed, letting her hand and shoulders drop. She and Barton taught him everything he needs, he will be fine— no, he will thrive!
She just needs a little bit of faith.
"Please promise your dearest Aunt that you'll watch yourself? Eat healthy, and catch plenty of fresh air?" Barton placed his hand on her lower back, calming the ranting russian tounge before it got out if hand.
"Please let the boy breathe some air now! He'll be fine, he is a Romanov. Strong in blood, and strong in soul. He's the best of Drumstrag that he'll drag Hogwash into the floor." Natalie rolled her eyes at the School competition, honestly boys.
"Yes, yes. Oh— it's just, I'll miss you so much! Don't you dare forget to write to us, young man! Not one single detail out!" The bells of the boat heading for Hogwarts rang once, a clear warning of getting in.
She hugged her nephew again, holding tightly before stepping away. Barton —a man who only pats on the back with a compliment — shocked both when he pulled Hadrian into a bone crushing hug. He whispered something, before letting him go.
Hadrian said nothing, but his expression faltered when he turned watery eyes on them, and gave them a grateful smile.
Watching the boy go, and march into the boat, Natalie could only pray that her baby gets through the trauma. They held a therapist with him for a few days, not long after that he was drafted for Hogwarts.
She was half-tempted to pull him out, like many have done, bur Hadrian argued and stubbornly refused to see the therapist if he was pulled.
And now watching the boats dive underwater, along with other families that waved them off, she could only wonder how he'll take the school by storm.