Last Chapter…

Tom, instead of finding any answers, was currently drowning in more questions.

It didn't help that he now realized when the child had hissed under his breath, those few words had been in Parseltongue.

A possible descendant of Slytherin? Dumbledore had assured him there were no others. But, by now, he should know that man was not to be trusted on his word on anything he relayed to Tom.

Chapter 12

Hadrian Riddle?

So when the students spoke of Macnair receiving the package at Honeydukes they had not meant the fifth year, but his father? Whom, most likely, is one of Voldemort's loyal followers at the moment. It perhaps was not the smartest idea to provoke Tom Riddle's interest at any point in your life, but Harry had stood there and his mind rebelled against playing meek in front of this dangerous man. He did not want to be seen as a child that gave no knew the voice, he knew it was him. Harry was sure, he was there too, maybe to watch what Macnair was up to.

His reaction and bantering with the cruel monster that was masquerading in the deceivingly attractive Tom Riddle- was not perhaps the smartest idea, but he could not help himself. He knew he would regret it later, but something in him jumps to the frontlines with that man. He can't hold back with the Dark Lord. But if he wants to hold his own (feel that adrenaline like before), Harry will have to be patient and better composed than what had just occurred in the cellar.

Hadrian glanced down at the parchments he held.

The question is, why was Macnair collecting information on Hadrian? Tom Riddle seemed completely uninterested, and vaguely dismissive of him, and Harry thought he was fairly decent at tells.

A picture of Hadrian sat on the first page, sullen and with cold eyes. It looked to be his orphanage photo, the mandatory yearly photo each child had taken to be put in the adoption listings. When Hadrian first saw that photo, he quickly scanned through the box and grabbed anything pertaining to himself. It was all neatly put together in order. The rest of the box seemed to be old newspaper clippings, and at the moment were not important to Harry's eyes. He coudln't understand their relevance.

As he raced along the dirt tunnel, invisibility cloak flying behind him, he vowed to read these in the safety and privacy of his bed that night. Maybe they would reveal something of true importance.

He had no idea how messed up things were about to get.

Professor Albus Dumbledore hummed to himself as he headed to his office. Only the second day back and there were so many things in the works. His tune stilled when he eyed the open door to the History of Magic office. Someone had beat him to his office.

As he walked through his doorway he was met with the sight of an irate Tom Riddle, sitting in his plush high-backed chair and twirling his wand in one hand. When he saw the Professor, his hand snapped closed around the wand and slid it with the fluidity of a snake into his pocket.

"Hello, Albus." He said softly. And that was how the Professor knew that Tom was upset with him, the soft -but dangerous- tone spoke volumes. "Please have a seat." Ignoring how this was his office, and if anything he should be the one inviting Tom in, Albus sat down in one of the guest chairs in front of the desk. Tom had always been rude, that was nothing new. Even as a student walking these halls, he had been so very entitled. Albus secretly chalked it up to a coping mechanism for having nothing and, well, being nothing, in the eyes of his peers for so many years in that orphanage.

"Is he alright?" Albus was jerked out of his thoughts, by a sharp question from a sharper man.

"Who, Tom?"

"Hadrian," Tom stated, and Albus froze inside. "The boy who was hit by a Diffindo. Is he alright? I wonder how you are dealing with such violence in the walls of Hogwarts." Tom's voice dripped with false sympathy to match a concerned turn of the lips. Albus' heart started once more- if Tom knew, then this conversation would already be going so very differently.

"He is quite well. It is lovely to see you so invested in the health of our treasured students," he said with a genial smile.

Tom had to withold a grimace. He leaned forward to rest his folded hands on the mahogany desk. Good quality desk, he thought distractedly. Even that managed to set him off more. Being in Dumbledore's presence made everything irritating,

"It has come to my attention this young man has an ability, I confess myself confused on the origins of. I believe you had told me, that I had no living relatives?" Tom's eyes narrowed when he saw Dumbledore pose to respond, and continued on before he could. "And do not give me false reassurances old man, the Parseltongue gift is a Slytherin bloodline specific talent. How? Where are the boys parents?" Albus outwardly sighed to stall for a precious second of time.

He needed to do this very carefully.

Tom could not be suspicious.

"Hadrian's parents are dead, Tom, and he lives in London in a home for boys. As far as I know he has no relation to the Slytherin family line."

"Then can you explain away for me his Parseltongue abilities?"

"Perhaps your imagination has-"

"I am not a first year student, eyes wide and mind underdeveloped- do not play me for a fool. I want a name." Tom's rich brown eyes glinted sanguine to highlight his displeasure. Dumbledore wanted to scream but he had better self control. Already playing cards he had hoped not to yet in this game- what had sparked Tom's interest in the child? When did he see the child speak their tongue? He once again felt the urge to yell out in frustration- but for this to work, he needed to look calm.

"Hadrian Riddle." Silence hung heavy in the room. Like the eye of the storm, Albus could see the other side of the hurricane coming closer and closer until it would bear down upon him like the dogs of hell.

"Tell me," Tom pronounced slowly as if trying to find the right words, "that is a joke, Albus." Albus wanted to smile it all away and say yes, but he could already see the cogs working in Tom's head. He couldn't play denial any more. He had to defuse the, what do the muggles say? The bomb? He had to defuse the bomb that was Tom Riddle's mind jumping to conclusions. Probably true conclusions, like how Hadrian is his son, but Albus had dissuade such notions. Albus had dreamed Tom would never even hear the boy's name, but it was better this way- having Dumbledore lead Tom in the 'right' direction instead of Tom investigating on his own.

"Tom, this is far less complicated than it seems."

"You-" Tom's words were still slow and had weight behind them. "Do explain then, for you have captured my- attention."

Hadrian knew it would be pointless to try and find Sirius and James at this point, they could be anywhere. He did however feel a little guilty for blowing them off without thinking by first going with Malfoy to the Slytherin common room then investigating Macnair. Come to think of it, he wouldn't even get to speak with them at lunch since he was seated with the Slytherins. Unless...

Oh, Hadrian was so cruel.

"Jamie?"

"Yeah, Sirius," James sighed in resignation. He had gave up on fighting the nickname.

"Do you think Veers expelled Hadrian?" Sirius looked fairly concerned.

"No, he hasn't done anything." But in the back of James' mind nagged the memory of a boy falling through a hole into his compartment. Why did he have to do that? Harry might have said it was a prank, but thinking on it now James saw that didn't really explain anything.

What if Harry was some kind of boy-on-the-run? Is Headmaster Veers going to expell him? But a calming thought came to him, Headmaster Veers was in a conference for the International Confederation of Wizards all weekend. That means the History of Magic professor, Mr. Dumbledore, would be in charge as deputy headmaster. He was so nice, surely he wouldn't expell Harry? He was just doing his job. Stupid Malfoy, stupid common rooms, and stupid snakes in the castle.

Sirius bit his lip in thought. He had only known Hadrian for a little while, but he already missed him. He felt a need to be close to him and make him smile all the time. Sirius liked when Hadrian laughed, and wanted him to laugh at all of his jokes. Sirius knew he was very good at jokes, something his mother often berated him for. He could even get solemn Regulus to crack a smile on a good day.

He flushed in remembrance of the embarrassing lake incident. He can't believe he got his robes choked around Hadrian like a vice, and he thought the boy he had met moments ago would be very angry- but Hadrian just laughed.

He was so clever with magic and nice and even though he spoke Parseltongue he was not like Sirius' family at all. And...he had really nice eyes. And he had one of those regal faces you remember, with slightly wavy hair and his cheekbones were so pretty...

Not that Sirius cared or anything, but it was true.

Everything about Hadrian was nice.

So he really hoped Hadrian wasn't in trouble.

Lunch wouldn't officially start for fifteen minutes, but Harry already sat himself at the Slytherin table with a propped open book. He sat there, and re-read the introduction chapter on Defense Against the Dark Arts: The Futility and Necessity. It was the book assigned by this year's professor: Professor Beaumont.

The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a nieck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible. The Dark Arts refer to any type of magic used to harm, control, or even kill the victim...

Dark Arts encompass a large range of magicks from the Unforgivables- to brewing harmful or poisonous potions- to breeding Dark creatures- and its practice is illegal in any situational excuse...practitioners are referred to as Dark wizards or witches...they are a malevolent people with intentions so cruel we can do nothing but fight, as there is no reasoning with these people...Regardless of the risk and their re-growing heads! together we must fight this monster, this Dark, unto our very deathbeds...

Well, Harry thought, this year's class will be interesting. This guy is obviously a firm hater of the Dark Arts, and Harry had been a semi-practitioner himself- not that the professor would know that. Harry glanced again at the open book with mild disgust showing on his face. A year or so ago he would have agreed with that dry, close-minded writer. But now that he understood the true risk of the Dark Arts, which was addiction, he saw that with proper care and diligence it can be a healthy practice- especially with a Dark core like Harry's.

"Enjoying the book? I personally did," A lilting, feminine voice said from behind him. He slowly turned around as not to show his surprise at being snuck on up (he was never snuck up on, he did the sneaking!), and was met with the sight of a rather petite but beautiful woman. She had hair like hollow gold in an attractive thirties fingerwave, and a supple frame. Her eyes were a dark, dark blue unlike Dumbledore's light and clear ones that stuck out upon her stark white skin.

She had on a white blouse tucked into a high-waisted skirt that matched her eyes and fell to just under her knees. Her cloak was also that odd blue, fastened around her neck with a clasp and no sleeves. And her nails caught his eye- painted white as her blouse.

So this one was a sucker for matching order, he could tell.

Harry could also easily admit she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, right up there with Fleur Delacour. In fact this girl had a timeless quality to her that the vain but good-hearted Fleur could never pull off. She looked to be around twenty, but could easily be anywhere from eighteen to thirty-five.

"Fascinating," he said. "um, for class," he finished lamely.

"Good!" She smiled wide and gracefully fell back to sit next to him, her hands folded in her laps and a leg crossed over the other. "My name is Athena, may I ask yours?" She tilted her head inquistively and kept smiling. Harry was unnerved by her sunny disposition, but he was sitting in the Great Hall. What could go wrong?

"Hadrian, ma'am." The lady... Athena, lept to her feet just as gracefully as she had sat and clapped her hands together.

"Splendid! Well, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I must be off now..." Athena trailed off, smile sliding off her face, before perking up again like a marionette told to dance. Then she whispered, "It's bollocks," before gliding off with her cloak flowing behind her.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the meeting, and felt very confused. What had just happened?

Who was that?

He did not get much time to ponder, for the sea of children hungry for lunch began to pour into the Great Hall. Spotting Malfoy's little crew walking forth, he made himself comfortable.

...In the seat of where the usual 'Slytherin King' would sit. I mean, after all, he was just 'a Gryffindor and a mudblood' so how would he know where not to sit? Harry had the urge to chuckle evilly.

To the right of Malfoy and the mini Death Eaters he saw James and Sirius, and after making eye contact the two rushed over to him.

"You're not gone!" Sirius exclaimed happily, black eyes lighting up with excitement. James bounced on the balls of his feet.

"No, Dumbledore just talked to me for a minute."

"Well, you're real lucky Headmaster Veers wasn't here, because if he got you in trouble - oh man it would be real bad." James said solemnly. "I've met him with my dad before, and the dad says not to trust him cause he was convicted for being a Grindelwald follower. He was found innocent, but dad still thinks otherwise. He was the one to convict Headmaster Veers, after all. But Reaper or not a Grindelwald follower, that guy is still intense and scary." Harry definitely took that information into account. An ex-Reaper for a Headmaster? Worthy of attention.

"Listen," He said to James and Sirius, "I think you guys should sit here too." Oh, Hadrian was cruel. The Slytherins would not enjoy this.

"..."

"..."

"Are you crazy?" Sirius said in a high voice. He cleared his throat. "They won't want us here!" It still came out high-pitched. James snickered a little but still nodded seriously along with Sirius' words.

Harry inwardly sighed. He didn't want to use this weapon but... He widen his eyes in a puppy dog look his Godfather woud have been proud of and slightly stuck out his lower lip- enough where it would have an effect but not enough where it would really be noticed.

"It's just...what if they don't like me? What if they are...not so nice to me? I just...would like my first two friends to be here with me." Sirius and James looked at each other before saying in perfect unison-

"Alright." Sirius slid onto Harry's right and James slid onto his left. It had barely been half a minute before a crisp voice spoke from behind them.

"I do not recall you inviting the entirety of Gryffindor House, Lucius." A boy with light brown hair and bland features raised an eyebrow at the three, before Hadrian fluidly stood.

"Hello," he smiled pleasantly. "I do not think we have had the joy of introductions yet. How uncivilized of...us." Harry's stress on the word us implied that he found the other boy's behavior uncouth. The brown haired child's ears grew a little red at the tips, and Lucius Malfoy stood behind him looking prim as ever and ridiculously pleased.

"Well," he smoothly interjected. "Are you going to give Mr. Riddle your introductions or not?" His voice had an underlying current of sharpness. Malfoy may be one of the youngest in their semi-gang, but he clearly had influence regardless.

The brown haired boy gave a sharp nod to Malfoy and gave Harry a small bow.

"My name is Leo Fawley, Heir to the Fawley family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I am of the age thirteen years and will be presented this summer." Harry give a small dip of the head, and made to introduce himself.

But before he did, he made eye contact with the man whom had just walked into Great Hall side by side with Albus Dumbledore. Brown eyes examined intensely the scene in front of Harry.

Hadrian tried to ignore the burning interest in the other man's eyes as he looked at Harry, but even as he turned away from the searching gaze of Tom Riddle he still felt it searing into his mind.

He should have never given into his instincts, and should have just been meek to the man in that cellar. He should have avoided any interest sparking for him in Tom Riddle's eyes.

But, oddly enough, Harry really couldn't bring himself to regret it.