Sorry for the wait, lovelies! Real life and work have been really draining this year, so it took a while to get this one done!
This chapter is double the length of normal chapters and a lot happens in it, so hopefully that makes up for the delay :)
Enjoy!
The moment, when it came, caught him entirely by surprise.
He was exhausted, running on nothing but sheer will and desperation, and fuelled only by the knowledge that their deadline must be days away now. Pouring magic into the wards for weeks on end had strained his reserves beyond reason – so, when he felt the shift, as if a weight in the air was suddenly lifted enough for him to breathe, Sirius almost collapsed.
It was a small change, infinitesimal, but after so long of beating his magic uselessly against the invisible cage around him this tiny sign of progress had hope flooding through him like the sweetest ambrosia.
He stared down at his hands for a bewildered moment, shoulders heaving from the exertion, then came alive all at once. He scrambled to the front of his cell, latching onto the bars, and rattling them. "Lily!" he hissed, biting victory coating his voice. "Lily – I've done it!"
She was across from him in an instant, her thin hands gripping the bars of her own cell anxiously. "You broke the wards?" she asked.
Sirius shook his head. "Not yet," he corrected, "just weakened them, but I think I can…" he trailed off, frowning in concentration. His magic thrummed, pulsating like an angry open wound as he coaxed it to obey; but Sirius ignored his burgeoning headache.
He had a target now, something to aim his waning strength towards, and he pierced the miniscule crack he had made in the wards with unerring accuracy.
It was inelegant, like trying to pry a hole through a sheet of glass; and the backlash made him feel as if he was being flayed.
But it worked.
Sirius choked out a gasp as the wards, glittering gold in his mind, abruptly shattered.
He listed forward, almost smacking his face into the bars before righting himself. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled, "that hurt." He licked his lip, the tip of his tongue catching the thin line of blood that slipped from his nose.
"Sirius?" Lily asked worriedly.
"Gimme a minute," he groaned, closing his eyes, and trying to wait out the nausea. Breaking wards with brute force was never a gentle process, and the tremors racking through him hurt just as much as the initial rebound.
"We might not have a minute," Lily said grimly, and her face, when he made himself look, was pale and grave. "Albus would have put a failsafe in to alert him if they began to break. He'll be here soon."
"Shit," Sirius spat, shoving his sweaty hair out of his face, and sitting back on his haunches. He ran his eyes over the inside of his cell frantically, mind rushing to find a solution.
He might be able to cast spells without the wards, but he could not shake off the aftereffects so quickly.
He was so weak right now he doubted that he could throw out a bombarda; and even if he could manage the spell, without his wand he was just as likely to blast his limbs off instead of the bars.
They needed something else. Something easier that could help him break through. Something –
Sirius' eyes widened.
He turned around and grabbed one of the middle bars, yanking on it as hard as he could. It gave a muffled screech, and he gritted his teeth, planting his feet more firmly.
"What are you doing?" Lily asked, her eyes nervously darting back down towards the entrance of the cellar. "Sirius, even if you got one out, you can't fit through!"
"I don't need to, I just need it loose enough," he grunted out, savagely tugging at the bar, determination growing as it began to move with each twist. "Then I can change."
"What do you mean 'change'?" she demanded, smacking her palm against the dirty stone floor.
Sirius heaved one last time, stumbling back when the bar finally gave out with a piercing metallic shriek. He stepped away; gaze fixed on his task as he reached for his depleted pool of magic.
With ease borne of years of experience, he transformed.
Dark fur sprang forth as he dropped to all fours. His thoughts instantly muddled as his senses sharpened, but the desire to escape burned bright in his mind. Sirius backed up as much as he could, then rushed forward.
With all the speed and force he could muster; he threw himself against the damaged section.
The bar he aimed for went flying, knocked completely from its place, and landed with a deafening clatter on the floor between their two cells.
Sirius shifted back, shaking his head to try and clear the fresh wave of pain, then started to shove himself through the narrow gap he had made. It was a tight squeeze, but his reckless body slam had loosened the two bars on either side of him, giving him extra room to twist his way out of his prison.
"How on earth…" he heard Lily murmur as he wriggled free and hurried over to her. He reached through the cell door to grab her face and grinned shakily. Lily absently pressed her cheek into his hold, her hand gripping his wrist, and Sirius basked in the first kind touch he had received in weeks.
"Padfoot isn't your average dog," he told her, trembling from the adrenaline still coursing through him. The rush of freedom made his temples pound and his head throb. "He's a lot stronger than he looks, and he can take a hell of a lot more damage than I can normally. Cause more damage, too," he added, tone too unsteady to be wry.
Sirius had gotten out of more than his share of tough spots over the years thanks to his animagus form.
Lily let out a bubbling, disbelieving laugh. Her eyes grew wet, and her breathing hitched as she said, "You crazy bastard. You did it. I can't believe you did it."
He leaned forward, pressing his face against the bars, and tugging her forward so their foreheads almost rested on each other. "I did it – now come on, we need to get you out of here."
The jubilation on her face died.
"No!" she exclaimed, shoving them apart. "You need to go! Albus is probably here already, and I'm nowhere close to breaking through my wards. You need to leave! Go, find Hadrian, protect him from this insanity."
"I can't just leave you here!" Sirius snapped, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. "We can still –"
"Sirius!" Lily barked, shaking her cell door loudly enough to shock him into silence. "Listen to me. You can't get me out in time. You need to go. You're the only one that can warn him. Find him. Keep him safe."
Her anger broke then, despair taking its place. "Please. Do whatever you have to."
Footsteps sounded above them, rapid and coming closer. Lily glanced up, her panic palpable, but Sirius could not bring himself to look away from her.
Not again, he thought. Not again.
"Lily…"
"Sirius, I swear to God – either go or kill me."
He recoiled, mouth dropping open in horror at the suggestion. She cut off his protests with a teary glare.
"We need to stop Albus, so go and warn Hadrian, and rescue me later. Or kill me right now so he can't use me."
"I – " Sirius stared at her, his own cheeks damp.
Lily's expression crumpled. "Please, Sirius. Go. You can't fight them off like this. I need to know you got out."
The door at the end of the hallway jolted loudly. He could hear voices, familiar but muffled, shouting through to them but it would have taken nothing short of the end of the world to steal his attention from the woman before him.
"Go," Lily begged.
"I'll come back for you," he swore hoarsely.
"I know," she whispered. "Now get out of here."
With no more time, Sirius turned and sprinted towards the door.
His body shifted once more just as it was thrown open, and with a guttural snarl he slammed into the first figure that tried to run through. He drove them to the ground, keen hearing picking up the snap of bone, and launched himself up the stairs.
Cries of surprise and pain erupted around him as he barrelled past the first lot of bodies, but he slipped between the grasping hands like smoke and dodged the spells they sent after him. His nose burned from the scent of magic.
He reached the ground floor in seconds and with barely a thought he exploded out of the first window he saw and landed on the crisp grass.
The tree line was bare metres from him.
His ears pricked at the sounds of pursuit, but as he dashed into the shadows of the trees, he knew they would not be able to catch him.
OoO
Lily pressed herself against the bars, eyes clamped shut as she strained her hearing.
She listened to the shouting and animal growls, to the buzz of spells and the shattering of glass, and then the slow and uneasy descent of silence as Sirius escaped.
Escaped.
She bowed her head, knees suddenly weak with relief. She felt heavy and light at the same time; as if the world had, just for this moment, stopped turning.
The soft flesh of her palms dragged down the rough metal of the bars as she lowered herself to kneel, slumped, on the floor. Her legs bent awkwardly, though she hardly noticed the building ache in her joints or the way her feet grew cold from the restricted blood flow.
Sirius had gotten away. He was free, and he would find Hadrian and keep him safe, and everything was going to be okay.
She closed her eyes against the rush of tears even as her lips pulled up into a tumultuous smile.
Sirius would protect her son where she could not. Her precious, bright boy.
Lily sat there, almost delirious with the knowledge, for what seemed like hours but must have been minutes, until the scrape of boots on the stairs pulled her back to the present.
Her eyes fluttered open, struggling to adjust to the dim light, before abruptly landing on the man walking towards her. She stared up at him, fingers curling tight around the bars, and read the frustration he was trying to hide as he stopped directly in front of her.
She smirked at him, a tiny, mocking quirk of her lips.
"He got away, didn't he?" she asked.
Albus' expression creased, another slip that she savoured. "Sirius will not get far," he told her calmly, folding his hands together. "He is too weak to apparate, and even in his animagus form he would not be able to reach Hogwarts in time. He is still a wanted fugitive after all; liable to be arrested or killed by anyone he might go to."
He peered at her from over the rim of his glasses. "He won't be able to stop us, Lily."
She gritted her teeth, shoulders rising with the spitting anger inside her. "He will," she said harshly. "He'll find Hadrian and tell him the truth. They'll figure out a way to keep him safe. You won't be able to use him."
Albus tilted his head in consideration, and then said something that drove a spike of ice through her. "The third task is less than two days away, my dear. Do you truly think he can make a difference?"
Two days.
Two days.
Lily's gaze drifted past Albus, unfocussed and afraid.
Had they really been trapped for that long? Had no one noticed they were missing? Had Hadrian?
Why would he? an insidious voice laughed in her ear. You cast him out, you pushed him away. Why would he care what happens to you?
She swallowed, looking down at her lap.
"Lily, this really needn't be so difficult." Albus took a step closer, his tone softening into something painfully familiar. "You were so sure of things when you returned to us. You knew what we needed to do. I know that you fear for your son – but this is the best chance we have. Don't you see? Once Voldemort is gone, Harry will come back to you. Tom will no longer be whispering in his ear and poisoning him against you. This is the only way to save Harry."
Lily remained silent, wishing herself deaf to his words.
"Harry is the only one that can strike against Voldemort. Their connection, this relationship between them…it will be Tom's undoing. He has shown, time and again, that he will make concessions for Harry. He's tipped his hand. Harry is the only one who Tom might hesitate against."
Might.
Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. Once upon a time that small chance would have been enough, but not anymore.
When it became obvious that she would not speak, Albus sighed again. "I can see we will not agree on this matter. It hurts me that it's come to this, but I want you to know that I will do my best by you and Harry. Everything will work out in the end. I promise."
Someone else hurried down the stairs, and Lily glanced up through the veil of her hair to see Emmeline slink into view. The older witch did not even spare her a look as she came to Albus' side.
"Sirius got through the outer wards," she reported briskly, not hesitating in delivering the news. Lily quietly fumed at how they clearly did not see her as a threat. "Alastor and Dedalus are after him right now with a tracking spell, and I've called in a few of our reserve members to assist. We can't trust Remus or Dora to be impartial, so I've left them out of the loop for now."
Albus nodded approvingly. "Excellent. Thank you, Emmeline." He turned to stare at Lily, and continued blandly, "And our other preparations?"
Emmeline stood taller. "Everything is ready to go. Except…" she stopped herself deliberately.
"What?" Lily asked, shoving herself to her feet. Emmeline shot her a glare full of annoyance, but it was Albus' pity that had her shifting defensively.
"I will handle it," Albus said, tilting his head towards the older witch. "Just make sure everything is in place. After the task is finished, we must move quickly."
Emmeline nodded, cast one last look at Lily, then turned on her heels and left. Lily stared after her, lungs pinching uncomfortably in her chest.
"Albus," she implored, stepping back from the bars. "Albus, please. Don't do this. It won't work. Voldemort will know something is wrong. He'll…he'll hurt Hadrian."
Albus shook his head. "You know the truth, Lily. Your son is our last chance. We cannot pass up such an opportunity."
"But what if he dies?" Lily cried, throwing her arms wide. "What if Voldemort kills him? You said it yourself – he isn't kind! He might hesitate, fine, but he's a selfish bastard and he'll kill Hadrian if he thinks he has to! And then where will you be with your stupid prophecy?" she spat.
Albus listened to her solemnly and Lily wanted to claw his eyes from his face when she saw how he looked at her. Nothing she said would sway him, she knew.
"I am sorry, Lily," he murmured eventually. "You think me cruel, and perhaps you're right. The years have been long and hard, and we have lost many friends. We've all had to change, to adapt, just as you did. As Harry had to. I wish so many things could be different."
He paused then, looking away from her and down to his wrinkled hands. When he spoke again, he was quiet and wistful, "I hope that in the new world we create there is no place for a man like me."
Lily wound her arms around her stomach, her eyes wide and scared.
Albus rallied himself, straightening his shoulders, every inch the general he had made himself into. "I'll be back for you tomorrow, Lily," he told her softly, kindly, as he made his way back towards the stairwell.
With his absence, she felt the wards lock back into place, wiping away any progress she had made in the past months.
Lily sank to the ground, shuffling until she was sitting at the base of the wall, and pulled her legs up to her chest. She tipped her head back, closed her eyes and prayed that Sirius would make it in time.
OoO
The morning of the third task was filled with a gentle sense of anticipation.
Hadrian had woken early, feeling energised, and eaten the breakfast that had been sent to his room in blessed solitude before he showered. Once he dried himself off, he walked to where his new uniform had been laid out yesterday and started to get dressed.
He pulled on the thick black pants, his socks, and dark dragon-hide boots; then slipped the reinforced shin guards on. They reminded him starkly of the ones he wore for quidditch, those these were of a much higher quality, paid for by Beauxbatons. He could feel the strength of their protection charms as he ran his hands over them appreciatively.
Next, Hadrian put on the long-sleeved, black undershirt. He spent a few minutes adjusting it correctly, making sure that the built-in padding on his elbows and shoulders were sitting where they were supposed to, and twisted experimentally when he was done. The fabric was fitted but breathable, flexing with him well enough so that while he felt contained it never limited his movements.
Hadrian drummed his fingers on the padding that covered his sides and the one sitting flat across his chest. He could feel the one on his back press securely into the curve of his spine, all the way down to his tailbone, and had to marvel at the care that had gone into the body armour's design.
He quickly donned his black and blue fingerless gloves, and then picked up the last piece of his outfit.
The blue and silver short-sleeved shirt was soft to touch. The Beauxbatons crest sat proudly on the right breast, and when he turned it over, he saw his last name was stitched carefully onto the back, right above thirteen little silver stars.
It would be, perhaps, the finest article of clothing he ever wore.
Hadrian eagerly pulled it on and bit his lip to quell the grin that wanted to break free when he turned to look in the mirror.
He looked so good.
Satisfied beyond all reason, Hadrian indulged in one spin before he stopped and propped his hands on his hips. He took a moment to just stare at his reflection.
It was hard to believe things were almost at an end.
The entire year had been building to this day, and yet now that it was here, he found himself strangely at peace. He was not nervous about the upcoming duel, of facing Kaiser and Draco, nor of the panel that would be assessing him.
Instead, he felt confident, settled, and completely comfortable in his own skin. It was liberating.
"It's going to be a good day," Hadrian told himself, letting his smile bloom. Regardless of the outcome of the tournament, he just knew that everything would be fine.
After one last glance, Hadrian grabbed his wand and holster, and left his room. No one else seemed to be awake just yet, so he headed to the common room and sat in one of the chairs close to the fireplace. Triggered by his proximity, the logs immediately lit themselves and heat began to chase the chill from the air.
Hadrian leaned back and summoned a book from the shelf on the far side of the room. He skimmed the cover before cracking it open and starting to read, content to enjoy the quiet while it lasted.
The sun inched higher as the minutes trickled by, lighting the carriage's interior; and eventually Hadrian's schoolmates began to stir and venture out from their rooms, dressed for the day but still looking disgruntled. Some of them carried signs, and he saw Sophia and Michelle both with their school colours painted on their cheeks.
Hadrian greeted each of them as they came into the lounge area, but for the most part no one seemed interested in breaking the peaceful lull.
The buzz of conversation picked up as more people joined them, and though Hadrian could feel the darting stares directed his way, no one approached him.
Until someone did, dropping down in the chair beside him.
"Morning," Albert groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He tried to smother a jaw-cracking yawn into his palm.
"Good morning," Hadrian replied, finishing the paragraph he was on, then glancing up. "You look like shit."
Albert hummed, blinking at the ceiling with bleary eyes. "I feel like shit," he said. "I'm surprised I even dressed myself correctly this morning. What about you?" he asked, head lolling towards Hadrian. "Ready for your big day?"
"Yep," Hadrian answered.
Albert nodded sagely and waved a hand at him. "The uniform looks nice, by the way. So chic."
Hadrian did not preen, but he very much wanted to. "The seamstress outdid herself," was all he said, though Albert's twitching lips let him know the other was not fooled.
"That she did," Claire agreed as she came up from behind them. Hadrian tipped his head back to see her, Raina and Jacob approaching.
"You look wonderful," Claire continued, standing beside him and bending down to give him a warm hug. "Very handsome."
He wrapped an arm around her in return, hooking his chin over her shoulder and snorting softly at her words. "Stop, you'll make me blush."
"When do you need to head to the pitch?" Raina asked, leaning against the back of Albert's chair.
Hadrian pulled away from Claire and looked at the clock on the wall. "Soon. Madame Maxime is walking with me, so whenever she's ready. We need to be there by 8 o'clock."
She nodded, one hand absently dropping down to play with Albert's hair. The boy leaned into her touch, eyes drifting shut as she lightly scratched his scalp. "We were going to wait with you," she started to say, but Hadrian cut her off with a gesture.
"No, no, you should head up to have breakfast while you have time. I've already eaten, so you don't need to worry about me."
Raina frowned, her lips pursing with displeasure. "Will we have a chance to see you before the task begins?"
At that, the other three looked at him with various degrees of concern, as if the idea of not being able to wish him luck closer to the duel troubled them.
Hadrian shrugged, flipping his book shut. "I'm not sure. The match doesn't start until nine, but most of the time beforehand will probably be taken up with the official preparations." He looked between his friends and gave them a smile. "It's fine. Even if I don't have time, I know you'll be in the crowd. We can see each other after."
"But what if you get hurt?" Claire asked, her hands coming together anxiously. "What if you're killed and we didn't get to say a proper goodbye?"
Hadrian's eyebrows shot up at that, and he could not stop the incredulous laugh that slipped out. "It's just a duel, Claire. I'll be fine."
"'Just a duel', he says," Albert scoffed. "Anything can happen in a duel. Can you blame us for being worried, especially considering who you're up against?"
"It's not like this is my first duel," Hadrian said, rolling his eyes. "I've been in and out of competitions since fourth year. I've rarely lost a fight."
"But those had rules," Jacob interjected, biting his bottom lip uncertainly when Hadrian turned to him. "There were regulations and guidelines and judges to step in if things went wrong. You don't have that this time."
Hadrian sighed and sat up properly. He put the book on the nearby table and splayed his hands. "Yes, sure, but you're forgetting that the lack of restrictions applies to all of us. I'm not exactly going in at a disadvantage. If Kaiser or Draco escalate things, I'm perfectly capable of matching them."
"But would you?" Albert pressed.
"Yes," Hadrian said, exasperated. "I'm not going to just stand there and let them hurt me."
"And if one of them uses Dark magic?" Jacob asked next, his words filled with challenge.
Hadrian gave him a hard look. "As I said, I'll match them."
"You'd publicly use Dark magic?" Raina piped up, sounding impressed, and he knew why. Hadrian had always been cautious when it came to using Dark magic in the past. Most knew, or at least suspected from his use of certain spells that straddled the line, that he was proficient in it, but he had taken great care to leave the rumours largely unsubstantiated.
That he was willing to discard that would be surprising.
Aware that their conversation was drawing attention, Hadrian kept his voice calm. "If I have to," he assured her. "Nothing extreme, of course – but I'm not some fumbling, inexperienced child. I'll be fine."
Raina nodded, her expression rather pleased. Claire and Albert both followed suit, as did Jacob after a long moment. While he seemed unhappy, he was willing to let the matter drop.
"Well then, on that note, I think we should head up to breakfast now," Raina announced, straightening up. "But if we don't get a chance to see you before the match…" she motioned for him to stand as she rounded the couch and pulled him in for a firm hug. "Good luck, Hadrian."
He pulled her close, shutting his eyes to bask in the weight of her against him. "Thank you," he whispered.
She stepped back, her fingers coming up to catch his chin, and she planted a kiss on his cheek. "You will stay safe," she ordered.
"I'll certainly try," he promised. He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.
Claire moved forward then, her hands settling on his shoulder and tugging him down so she could kiss his other cheek. "We'll be cheering for you the entire time," she told him with a luminous smile.
Hadrian grinned back at her, his eyes crinkling as he reached up to playfully pull on one of her curls.
"Oh, what the hell," Albert said, hopping to his feet. He sauntered over to Hadrian and grabbed his face, and with as much pageantry as he could muster, he smacked two obnoxiously loud kisses on his cheeks. "Make us proud out there."
Hadrian shoved the other boy away with a spluttering laugh, rubbing the back of his gloved hand over his face to try and get rid of the lingering sensation, and turned to face Jacob.
His smile dimmed as they both paused, staring awkwardly at each other, before Hadrian tentatively raised his arms. Jacob brightened at the invitation and stepped forward instantly. Hadrian let out a deep breath, ducking his face into the side of Jacob's neck. He could admit, if only in the privacy of his own mind, that he had missed this.
Beneath all the bitterness and anger and genuine hurt, he had missed just being close to Jacob.
Slowly, he pulled back, his arms almost unconsciously dropping to skim the other's hips before falling completely to his sides. Jacob released him with an audible exhale, but his hands rose to grasp Hadrian's shoulders, just shy of resting their full weight there – still wary of rejection.
"I –" Jacob tried to say, his mouth opening and closing, before he looked away with a grimace.
"I know," Hadrian said, his lips twisting up sadly.
Jacob avoided his eyes as he nodded, the now familiar strain in his expression still present. "Kick their arses," he finally said with a weak grin.
Hadrian rocked on his heels and dipped his head, the move cocksure and glib. "You know I will," he drawled.
With an amused huff, Jacob stepped back to Claire's side, sliding his arm around her waist. Claire looked between them fondly and tapped Jacob on the chest to guide him towards the door. "Come on, we'd best hurry up and eat if we want to get good seats."
Hadrian watched them go with a smile and shared one last nod with Albert as he moved to join them.
Raina was the last of their group to depart.
She took one of his hands in hers and just held it loosely. She did not say anything, and she did not have to because he could read the silent confidence in her eyes easily.
He flexed his fingers around hers for a second, lifting her hand to his mouth so he could kiss her knuckles, then let her go. She smiled at him, as radiant as ever, and followed their friends.
Hadrian sat back down after all four of them had exited the carriage but found himself uninterested in resuming his book. He let his eyes settle on the flickering tongues of the fire as more of his peers began to rush out to get breakfast. Most of them called out to him, wishing him luck as they left, and Hadrian waved his thanks.
Alone, sitting forward and enraptured by the fire was how Madame Maxime found him.
He blinked rapidly when he registered her approach, his eyes stinging and dry from the heat, and rose to his feet. He tucked his hands in front of him and cleared his throat. "Good morning," he greeted.
"Good morning," she returned. He fixed his posture when she appraised him, standing tall under her scrutiny. "Are you prepared?" she asked.
Hadrian nodded, and it spoke volumes that she simply took his word for it.
"Very well. We shall make our way there, then." She turned, and Hadrian followed at her heels as they left the protective warmth of the carriage. He breathed in the crisp morning air as they made their way across the green fields towards the redesigned quidditch pitch.
They kept the conversation between them light, speaking of his classes and of the festival Beauxbatons had held last week to celebrate the academy's anniversary.
"It's a shame we missed it," Hadrian said wistfully as they were ushered through the first lot of security.
The area they stepped into was far busier – event organisers and officials bustled around while guards carefully patrolled the perimeters. Hadrian eyed them, recognising the robes as those typically worn by Death Eaters.
"I would have liked to go, especially since it's my last one," he continued.
"I expect most of your peers feel similarly," Maxime commented, her hand dropping to his shoulder to keep track of him as a particularly harried crowd moved past them. "You can always return for it next year. No one would deny you that."
Hadrian smiled at the offer. "And I suppose I'd be expected to make a speech of some kind?" he asked cheekily.
"But of course," she said, subtly teasing. "Our first Triwizard champion in centuries? We cannot let you off without a speech."
Hadrian snickered, but he knew even if there was a speech, he would take her up on the offer. The annual festival was always exorbitant, ridiculously expensive, and filled with enough school pride to choke on – and everyone loved it.
There were games and tables overflowing with delicious food and drinks. Students performed dances and songs, duelling contests were held, magical creatures were allowed to roam the grounds, and each professor hosted an activity showcasing their subject. Hadrian had not yet met someone that did not delight in the festival, affectionately named 'M.A.D.D' day by most students.
Magic, arts, duels and dragons. Everything that made Beauxbatons the best school in Europe.
"Mr. Evans! Headmistress Maxime!"
A frazzled looking witch came scurrying up to them. Her hair, a lovely shade of green that matched well with her dark skin tone, was coming undone from her elaborate updo and flying around her head. When she reached them, she paused, one hand braced against her heaving chest as she tried to catch her breath.
"Yes?" Hadrian asked after giving her a moment to collect herself.
She cast him a thankful smile, though she still sounded breathless when she said, "I'm here to escort you to the champion's pavilion." She gestured off towards their right, and Hadrian shared a look with Maxime before following obediently.
They were led to a large tent similar to the one from the first task that sat flush against the quidditch pitch's towering stands. The way the morning sunlight danced on its white canvas walls made him squint, so much so that it was a relief when he ducked under the flap and stepped inside.
Hadrian flicked his gaze over the other occupants curiously. He spotted Draco immediately standing to one side. There was an unfamiliar man with him speaking in a low voice, but the blond looked to be barely paying attention.
Draco's eyes met his and they traded a friendly nod.
The man also glanced over, noticing Draco's distraction the second it happened, and when Hadrian's focus automatically shifted to him, he was treated to a strangely invigorated yet calculative grin. There was a spark of recognition in those blue eyes that was a little too knowing, a little too smug, and it instantly set him on edge.
He narrowed his eyes, watching that smile slide right into pleasure, but was forced to look away when the official started speaking to him. "Now, Mr. Evans, we still have some time before we're set to begin. Soon, you'll have about ten minutes to see any family members, and then we'll kick things off."
She stopped then, staring at him inquisitively. "Do you know when your parents are coming?"
Hadrian grimaced, unable to curb the reaction. "It's just my mother," he said, "and…no. I…I don't know when she'll arrive."
If she'll arrive, he thought.
They had not seen each other in such a long time, and other than the select few who knew the whole truth of his situation, no one had mentioned her to him. He had not even thought of her with any real depth lately, and he wondered if he should feel guilty about that.
Hadrian's jaw twitched, and he studiously ignored the probing weight of Maxime's eyes.
With everything that had happened between them, he could not say if his mother would come. A small part of him hoped she would, if only because he was morbidly curious to see if their last meeting had had any impact on her at all.
The far larger, angrier part of him wanted her to stay wherever she had hidden herself away.
"Oh," the green haired woman said slowly, clearly off-balance at the unexpected response. "Um, well, there's still plenty of time," she rushed to reassure. "You'll have a private area to wait in regardless, and if – I mean, when your mother arrives someone will direct her there."
Hadrian dipped his head in thanks, though he could have done without the gawky smile she tried to give him.
"Headmistress," she said, turning quickly to Maxime. "I also had a few things to speak to you about regarding the panellists you had organised. There're just a few things we wanted your opinion on if that's alright?"
Maxime was too dignified to sigh, but Hadrian suspected she very much wanted to at that moment. "Of course," she said with a shallow smile, her accent thick as she answered in English. With a fleeting nod to him, she moved off to follow the other woman, exiting through the second opening on the other side of the tent.
His solitude was short-lived, however.
Draco came up beside him, stepping close enough to brush against Hadrian's arm. "Where's she going?" he asked curiously.
"Panel stuff," Hadrian said, shrugging. He scanned the other boy, then back where Draco had been standing. "Who was that man with you earlier?"
The way he wrinkled his nose in distaste was an answer in and of itself. "He's a family…" he stopped almost immediately, frowning.
"Friend?" Hadrian offered.
"Acquaintance," Draco corrected firmly. "Definitely not a friend. The only thing predictable about him is his unpredictability."
"Sounds lovely," he remarked dryly. Hadrian hesitated, then admitted, "I got the impression that he knew me."
Draco scoffed. "I wouldn't be surprised. I told you before, most of them are at least a little interested in you." With a covert look around them, he continued, "Best avoid that one in particular, though. He's a bit zealous."
Hadrian sighed, "Aren't they all zealots?"
"Yes, well, not all of them can say they were an apprentice of the Dark Lord."
Hadrian's head snapped around, staring at Draco with wide eyes. "What do you mean –"
"Ah, no," Draco cut him off, shaking his head rapidly. "I don't know what's going on between you and…him, and I really don't want to. I'm not talking about this with you."
Hadrian opened his mouth, counterargument leaping to the tip of his tongue, but Draco blithely spoke right over him. "Is your mother coming? I'm still waiting for mine to arrive."
For a mutinous second, Hadrian debated asking his questions anyway, but the stubborn jut to Draco's jaw told him that he would not get any satisfaction there – and he did not want to upset the other boy before getting into a duel with him.
"I don't know if she will," Hadrian said slowly. "I guess I'll find out when the time comes. Is your father here, at least?"
Draco relaxed when Hadrian did not push. "Yes, he's been in and out since we got here. I think my mother might end up being late – we had a situation at the manor apparently."
Hadrian saw the disappointment in Draco's eyes and nudged their shoulders together. "She'll be here. But even if she's a bit late, you'll be able to see her after. She wouldn't miss you duelling for the world."
That got him a soft, grateful smile.
"And anyway, I'm sure Hermione will see you off," Hadrian said.
That got him a slight flush.
Hadrian smirked, and Draco scowled at him, shoving him lightly. "Shut up," the blond muttered, crossing his arms. His mask of annoyance disappeared, replaced by intrigue when he saw something over Hadrian's shoulder.
He twisted enough to try and see what had caught the other's attention, just in time to watch Rita Skeeter suddenly veer away from them.
"Well, that was odd," Draco commented, sounding mildly perplexed.
Hadrian hummed, staring after her gold-clad figure with amusement. "Probably my fault. I did blackmail her into leaving me alone." He turned back to Draco and grinned.
Draco, to his credit, did not ask what Hadrian had used against the viperous woman, and just laughed. "You'll have to have an interview with her eventually."
"True, but I can put it off for as long as possible."
They spent the next half hour together, talking idly and watching the rotating cast of people coming in and out of the pavilion. The noise from outside grew as more spectators arrived and were let into the stadium. Kaiser had been brought in, followed by her headmaster and one of her ministry officials; and Hadrian bore the scornful looks the girl sent his way while subtly rolling his eyes. Madame Maxime had yet to return, and he suspected he would not see her until just before the task began.
It was as the clock finally reached half past eight that Hadrian and Draco bid each other goodbye, and they were ushered to their private tents.
Hadrian entered the small, enclosed space, and the tangled ball of disappointment and relief in his chest pulled tight when he saw it was empty.
He let out a quiet, sour chuckle, closing his eyes. He willed away the sting, convincing himself this was a good thing, and moved to sit on one of the available chairs.
It was just ten minutes. It would pass in the blink of an eye, and then he could focus on the task.
Hadrian leaned back, one hand resting on the table, and without realising it his finger started to tap impatiently. He kept his eyes trained on the post just left of the door, listening to the muffled ebb and flow of the crowds outside.
Less than two minutes had dragged by when someone stepped inside.
Hadrian's eyes snapped over and he raised his eyebrows, waiting until the flap had dropped back down behind them before saying, "Well, this is a bit presumptuous, even for you."
"How so?" Riddle asked, and as he spoke his features began to change, the glamour sliding off like water. He ruffled his dark hair, flicking the strands of his fringe into place, and watched Hadrian in return.
"This time is reserved for family," Hadrian told him dryly, settling back in his chair and crossing his legs. He flattened his hand against the table, taking a measured breath to smother the burst of giddiness in his gut. He was not some lovesick schoolboy fluttering at the sight of his crush – and he refused to act like it. "Last I checked, we're not family."
Riddle, thankfully, did not take the easy shot that his mother's absence created. "Well, technically we do come from the same line," he remarked instead, looking pensively at the tent ceiling for a second before his eyes found Hadrian's again.
Amusement was plain to see on his face, growing deeper when Hadrian wrinkled his nose.
"Ugh, please tell me we're not cousins or something?"
His stomach squirmed at the thought.
"Nonsense," Riddle dismissed, batting the words away with a wave of his hand. "Our last common ancestor was some twenty generations back."
Hadrian let his shoulders slump in relief, though he straightened as the implications of that sunk in. "Have my family tree memorised, do you?" he asked with a touch of sarcasm.
Riddle hummed, a haughty smile on his lips. "Not just yours."
He cocked an eyebrow at the coy tone. "Every wizarding family in Britain?" he guessed, leaning his elbow on the table and resting his cheek on his fist.
"Why Hadrian, I'm honoured you think me capable of such a feat," Riddle said with a tip of his head and a hand splayed over his chest.
Prick, Hadrian thought, and rolled his eyes to cover the delighted smile that wanted to break free.
"But no, I only memorise the important lines," Riddle continued.
"So, the predominantly pureblood ones?"
A shrug was his answer, the move a lazy roll of broad shoulders that was far too entrancing. Riddle walked closer; his approach so smooth he seemed to appear right next to Hadrian between blinks.
"I'm often asked to oversee potential matches," the man explained, staring down at him. Looming but not stifling. "It helps to know how closely candidates are related. Since I've come into power, I've successfully limited many marriages to at least fourth cousins."
"Really?" Hadrian asked.
"So surprised?" Riddle teased, hands tucked behind him as he gently swayed back and forth. There was a small smile on his face, and Hadrian's gaze zeroed in on it, helplessly drawn. "We've spoken about it before, remember? It's why I place muggleborns with pureblood families. The bloodlines are sorely in need of diversification."
Hadrian clicked his tongue, annoyed at the mention of the topic and not wanting to restart what would surely drop into an argument. "I remember – I'm just surprised at how involved you are with the…process."
Maybe his tone held a trace of his displeasure because Riddle did not respond. In an instant the air around them changed, becoming wrought with tension and an uncomfortable kind of awkwardness. While they had seen each other regularly over the weeks, this was the first time they had been alone since that afternoon in Riddle's office, and Hadrian found himself regretting his rashness.
He dropped his eyes but could not avoid the familiar weight of Riddle's attention. He did not know why this was so hard, why every step they seemed to take forward was immediately followed by two steps back, or why he was just unable to voice what he wanted without getting caught by his own spiralling thoughts.
Hadrian was a mess. This entire year had been a mess since Jacob had first told him of the tournament.
He sighed, letting his arm fall, and sitting straight. Enough of this, he thought.
When Hadrian looked up once more, Riddle had stepped even closer, erasing the illusion of propriety. If anyone walked in right now there would be no justification or excuse they could spin, and it was that thrill of mutually assured destruction that had Hadrian standing and taking that last step to put himself firmly in Riddle's space.
They did not speak, but when Riddle's hand rose to hover next to Hadrian's face – a soundless request that was equal parts amusing and charming – he smiled in welcome.
Fingers lightly traced his skin, skimming along the arch of his cheek. The touch trailed down, thumb resting briefly on the corner of his mouth as the rest curled under his jaw, before moving to cup his neck. The hold was possessive and warm and grounding, and Riddle's expression was rapacious.
The look sent a bolt of heat through Hadrian, drying his mouth and making him swallow. With his hand spread directly over his throat there was no way to hide the reaction, and satisfaction marred Riddle's face.
But as the silence between them stretched another moment that intensity softened – not cooling, just sliding back to make room for whatever new emotion Riddle was feeling as he stared into Hadrian's eyes.
Whatever it was, Hadrian could not read it and he found, for the first time, that he did not want to.
It felt too big to name.
Too dangerous to be spoken, even at a whisper.
"I do not know what I did to upset you that day," Riddle admitted, and even now there was lingering frustration in him that Hadrian could practically taste. "But regardless of that, I want you to know that I have full faith in you to succeed today."
He had been told similar things all week by almost everyone who flitted in and out of his presence; yet hearing it from Riddle, a man so much more in terms of strength and knowledge than Hadrian could hope to reach as he was now, meant more than he could describe. The simple conviction in his words, as if it were impossible that Hadrian would not win, chased away whatever persisting disappointment he felt at his mother not coming.
And it was that belief that had Hadrian reaching up and grabbing Riddle's wrist, pulling the hand gently away from his throat so that he could hold it firmly in his own.
"Thank you," he said, running his thumb over the man's knuckles. "And…after the task, after all the pomp and ceremony is done, we should talk. A proper conversation – just you and me, and," he hesitated, licking over his bottom lip. "And we'll figure out what all…this means, alright?"
Riddle dipped his head to the side, considering.
"After," he agreed.
Hadrian huffed lightly, ducking his head to focus on their clasped hands. Riddle was leaning towards him enough that his breath stirred his hair, and Hadrian peeked up coquettishly.
"You know, anyone could walk in and see this," he mused, tugging playfully.
Riddle smirked, a roguish tilt to his mouth. "I have someone standing watch. Which is why I know I can do this." Brazen as anything, the man reached out and wrapped a hand around the back of Hadrian's neck, reeling him in and stealing a blistering kiss.
Hadrian fell into it eagerly, overwhelmed, sinking his own hands into the man's hair to keep him where he wanted him. It had been so long that he had forgotten how dizzying Riddle's presence could be.
Hands gripped his hips, locking him in, and each touch made the delicious growing wave between them rise higher.
Teeth nipped at his lip, the spike of pain enough to make Hadrian hiss and pull back slightly, narrowing his eyes. There was a swell of smug amusement that definitely was not his, and Hadrian realised he had lowered the shield on their bond accidentally.
"I'll have to watch that," he muttered, leaning in once to give Riddle a much more chaste kiss.
"Watch what?" Riddle asked, slyly slipping an arm around Hadrian's waist. The other toyed with the ends of his hair, occasionally stopping to wind some around his fingers and pull.
"The bond, your side of things, I'll have to block it," Hadrian said with a chuckle. "You'll distract me otherwise."
"And we can't have that," Riddle murmured, swooping down to mouth at Hadrian's jawline.
"No marks," Hadrian ordered even as he tilted his head back, sighing softly at the nice, though surprisingly tame, sensation. "I'm not walking out of this tent with bruises. It'd be a media frenzy."
"Pity," Riddle said into his skin.
"I'll say."
The new voice dropped between them like a stone into water, and Hadrian stiffened. Riddle tightened his hold, stopping Hadrian's instinctive retreat before it could begin, then slowly leaned back enough to toss a reproachful look at the man who had entered without them noticing.
Hadrian shifted his weight as apprehension hit low in his gut. He peeked around Riddle's broad shoulder, not quite stepping out from the protective shadow the man cast over him; and realised that he recognised the newcomer.
It was the man that Draco had been speaking to earlier – the one who carried himself with a lethargic kind of confidence that had Hadrian's hackles automatically rising in response.
"Barty," Riddle greeted, fond exasperation coating his voice. "I trust there's a reason for the interruption?"
Hadrian's mind cycled through the list of names he had long since memorised and landed on the only possible answer.
Barty Crouch Jr.
His caution twisted right around into alarm, though he made sure to keep his face free of any sign of it. Hadrian let his eyes dart quickly to Riddle, checking for some direction on how to approach this, before snapping his focus back. Crouch returned his attention, posture bordering on sloven, though completely at odds with the cutting intelligence in his blue eyes.
Hadrian's mouth pinched.
He did not know a lot about Crouch. The man, when compared to the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy and even Severus Snape, was more a rumour than flesh and blood most days. Information about him was scarce, as if he did not exist in peoples' minds unless he was standing in front of them; and yet the few that did speak of him did so with whispery fear.
He was a member of Voldemort's inner circle, was young and talented, and had seemingly done very little to earn his terrifying reputation – which was the biggest red flag about him.
Unknown quantities were always a threat, and now that he had seen Crouch in person, Hadrian could confidently say that this man was one of the most unsettling people he had ever come across. He was all jagged lines and sharp edges hidden beneath a smile and slick charm – the distracting gleam of a ring before the punch landed, or the dazzling flash of lightning before the deafening crack of thunder.
He was dangerous, and Hadrian really needed to have a word with Draco because his warning was a fucking understatement.
Whatever Crouch saw in Hadrian must have satisfied him because he turned back to his Lord without making a remark. "Time's almost up," Crouch said, one hand hooked on his hip while the other tapped an erratic pattern on his thigh. "People are coming 'round soon," he continued, jerking his head towards the entrance, "figured you'd want to skedaddle before too many notice."
Hadrian made a soft noise low in his throat at the phrasing, amused despite himself.
Unfortunately, it drew Crouch's attention right back to him, and the man cocked an eyebrow. "Problem, pretty boy?" he asked, a mirroring fissure of humour present beneath the biting drawl that was apparently his standard tone.
"Not at all," Hadrian replied with an insincere smile. He stepped back from Riddle, smoothing a hand down the man's chest as he went. Crouch's eyes scanned the two of them, probing and shrewd, but before their gazes could meet again Hadrian turned to Riddle, summarily dismissing the other man.
"I suppose you should skedaddle," he said pointedly. "Wouldn't want to give people a reason to talk."
Crouch, obviously not deterred by Hadrian's snub, interjected, "Oh, but the rags would love to get the inside scoop to this little tea party." He gestured between them with a waggling finger and a smirk that was downright filthy.
Hadrian sneered, his shoulders tensing. Even though he knew Crouch was just trying to get under his skin, any remaining enjoyment he had gotten from Riddle's visit vanished. He had not met anyone that irritated him so immediately before. "Go suck a cock, Crouch," he snapped, unable to help the childish comment.
"That an offer, sweetheart?" Crouch asked, fluttering his eyelashes, and pitching his voice to sound breathy and eager. His smile was enigmatic, a slow pull of his mouth that showed his dimples and made him almost boyish in his mischief.
"No," Riddle said suddenly, nudging Hadrian away and stepping forward. It was less in response to Crouch's words and more a shutdown of their entire interaction.
Crouch eased back instantly. Laughter was still openly shining in his eyes, but the wild, taunting energy was contained once more.
"Barty, outside."
"Righto," Crouch said with a two-fingered salute. He turned on his heels and sauntered off, waving over his shoulder in farewell. "Knock 'em dead out there, kiddo," he called.
Riddle sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He glanced over at Hadrian, who crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows defensively.
The air felt stilted between them again, Crouch having effortlessly obliterated the mood, and Hadrian looked down at his boots. Riddle stared at him, eyes roaming carefully, before releasing a soft sigh that was filled with a dozen unsaid things.
"Good luck, Hadrian," he said quietly. "I will see you shortly."
"Right," Hadrian replied, his arms dropping down until they were loosely hugging his stomach. "See you soon."
He looked up only after he heard the tent door flutter, closing his eyes, and letting out a deep breath.
OoO
Tonks lowered her wand as the last of the defensive spells fizzled away. She let out an unsteady breath and glanced up at Remus when she felt him squeeze her shoulder in silent praise.
His eyes were bright, simmering with frenzied anticipation, and her own teeth ached from how firmly he was clenching his jaw. Remus had been walking a razor's edge ever since he had been told what happened to Sirius and Lily. It was in the tension he carried, the way he stood poised on the balls of his feet, constantly prepared to spring into action.
This was the closest she had ever seen him to losing control. Not even the days leading up to a full moon were able to match the sheer energy that radiated from him now.
And there was an anger in him lately. Something borne from years of waging an unwinnable war, of being beaten down by an enemy they could never hope to match – and it had grown exponentially since Dumbledore had made his move. Since they had been shuffled off to the side in the Order, kept unaware to flounder in the dark.
Nonthreatening, Tonks thought bitterly, before shaking her head to recentre herself.
The grip on her shoulder tightened slightly, so she reached up and touched his hand. Her fingertips lightly traced over the edge of his knuckles and his eyes dropped to hers in an instant. The thread of amber was an ever-present reminder, though some of the harshness there faded the longer they stared at each other.
Remus was, at his core, a kind man, Tonks knew that; but she also knew now that he was not a particularly gentle one. Remus' anger scratched whoever brushed up against it – yet when faced with it directly she found herself unable to turn away from him. Even if at times that seemed to be what he wanted most.
Honestly, she doubted anything could push her away at this point. She had loved him for years, her admiration and fascination evolving into something deeper and more settled as she had left her childhood behind. Even if he never fully returned her feelings, even if they never progressed past soft looks and shy touches, Tonks was content with her choice.
Remus took a breath, aggrieved and heavy, and then another and another until he calmed.
Tonks tipped her head in relief and flicked her gaze to the only other person with them.
Cedric stood behind them, scanning the woods tersely. His hands flexed at his sides, an anxious flutter of movement that told her all she needed to know.
She had almost asked him to stay behind, stupidly wanting to keep him away from this mess, but she knew that Cedric needed to do this.
Like her, he had something to prove. Amends to make.
Because the two of them had stood to the side and done nothing while Lily and Sirius were subdued and taken. Not a word spoken in their defence, or a move made to help, and they had spent every day since stewing in their guilt as a result. Too afraid to push for answers, falling into the background like good little soldiers, scared and far too aware of how precarious things were.
Keeping their heads down because they knew –
Tonks gritted her teeth.
They knew that if Albus could turn on Sirius – Sirius, one of their best, their most loyal, the one who had steadfastly supported him all these years – then he could turn on any of them.
Biting her lip hard enough to taste iron, Tonks forced herself to focus and faced the clearing. The simple log cabin that sat squat in the centre rippled as the wards finished dissolving, and what had once looked recently abandoned now appeared derelict.
The ground around the structure was burnt and torn, deep gorges slicing into the earth. The remains of spells leaving their mark. The wood of the cabin was discoloured and had begun to warp, and one of the side windows was blown out completely. Glass shards littered the area, some thrown far as if something big had blasted out of it.
It was the front door that drew her attention though. Half-open, the room beyond it was shadowed and uninviting.
Tonks swallowed, gripping her wand for comfort.
"Come on," Remus muttered, some trepidation in his tone as he began to creep forward. Tonks followed, her steps light and sure despite how exposed crossing from the safety of the tree line to the cabin left her feeling.
She heard Cedric behind her, his boots clacking on the wooden porch, and the fine hair on her arms prickled in warning.
Remus nudged the door fully open and stepped inside, keeping his wand raised. His stance was more aggressive than defensive as he stood just in the entryway and surveyed the room.
Tonks' eyes darted around as she slipped in after him and a pit opened up in her gut when she saw how barren it was. There was a stillness in the air, a sensation that made her shift uncomfortably – and the instinctive, whispery realisation hit her.
They would not find what they were looking for here.
"Remus?" Cedric asked, voice soft but carrying in the silence. He evidently felt what she did because his tone was dubious.
Remus exhaled, the air hissing out between his teeth. She could not see his face from this angle, but Tonks knew it was not good. "Spread out," he said, shifting his weight as he prepared to follow his own order. "We…we need to be sure."
Tonks glanced over at Cedric, reading the bleakness on him when he met her gaze. His mouth was a tight white line, disappointment playing out across his face. Still, he moved when she jerked her head.
The three of them fanned out and cleared the rooms systematically, and each minute that went by without any sign of Sirius or Lily was one that had Tonks' mood plummeting. It had been a long shot, they had all known that, but she had been so sure this was where they were being held. She had been tracking Dedalus for weeks, slowly ruling out locations, until she had settled on this one – and now to know she was wrong…
Tonks had to stop and take a moment to breathe.
This had been their last chance. The third task was taking place right now, and Dumbledore would be making his move today.
Failure burned in her chest.
She should have been faster. She should have said something when Sirius and Lily were taken. She should have been smarter, braver – tried to reach out to Hadrian, regardless of how dangerous it would have been.
Should have, should have, should have.
"I've got something!"
Tonks spun around at Cedric's call, running out of the room she had been searching and back into the main area. She almost rammed into Remus, only just managing to slide to a stop before they could collide. He steadied her, waiting for only a moment to make sure she was alright, then rushed to where Cedric stood in front of a hole in the wall.
"How the hell did we miss this?" Tonks asked, incredulous. She leaned forward, staring down the stone staircase with a grimace.
"False wall," Cedric told her, his hands on his hips. "It was askew – that was the only reason I noticed it. I popped it open and, well," he waved a hand at the doorway.
"Good work," Remus said, taking the chance to clap the younger wizard on the shoulder. Cedric blinked, startled, and then smiled at the man.
"This is it," Remus continued, muttering to himself. He licked his bottom lip, brightening as he took the first step down. Tonks and Cedric shared another look, neither particularly hopeful.
"I'll go with you," Tonks offered, not wanting Remus to confront whatever was down there alone. "Cedric, you stay up here just in case."
"…Of course," Cedric said softly, reaching out to squeeze her bicep as she walked past him.
Tonks gave him a grim smile and hurried down to follow Remus to the next level. With one hand touching lightly along the wall, she lifted her wand with the other and created a lumos to chase some of the dark away. There were more traces of spell fire here as well, scorch marks and missing chunks of stone that dropped small chips when her fingertips brushed over them.
Tonks frowned, dragging her hand through some of the black, soot-like residue. Maybe, she thought, rubbing her fingers together.
Something had gone wrong. The evidence in here, coupled with the chaos outside – there had obviously been a fight of some kind. But was it Sirius and Lily against the Order? Or had someone else interfered?
"Sirius? Lily? Are you here?" Remus' voice echoed back to her.
Tonks shook her head, smacking her hand against her pants to clean it, and darted down the last few steps. She breezed through the heavy door at the bottom of the staircase and entered a basement that was, simply put, filled with cells.
Her lumos glowed brighter, the white light bouncing off the walls and showing Remus standing before one cell, holding a long bar in his hands. His shoulders were rounded, despair emanating from him in tangible waves.
"Remus?" she asked carefully. "Remus, what is it? Are you okay?"
He looked up, eyes wet, and showed her the banged-up metal pole. She saw the cell door behind him and the large, irregular gap between two other bars.
"They were here," Remus whispered, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the pole. "Sirius and Lily. I can smell them. I…I don't know what happened?"
"Maybe they escaped?" Tonks said, and though it lacked conviction she still desperately wanted to erase the pain on his face. She pointed at the broken cell, "One of them must have got out, and with all the signs up there of a duel…"
Remus kept his head lowered, and his thoughts seemed to be a long way from the dim basement they stood in.
"We were too slow," he mumbled, and loosened his grip. The pole clattered against the stone floor sharply and rolled towards her. "We were too slow. He said they wouldn't move until midday. He lied. Albus…he lied."
Tonks sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, heart aching at how lost he sounded.
Remus had been a part of the Order since the beginning, far longer than most members. It was all he had had for almost two decades – and he had been clinging so badly to the idea that they could stop this.
She blinked back the tears that welled so suddenly in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Remus," she whispered, voice hoarse. There was nothing else she could think to say. "I'm so sorry."
His hands twisted in the hem of his shirt. "What are we supposed to do now?" he asked.
Tonks did not have an answer for him.
Dumbledore had lied to them, slipped them false information, and by now he could be anywhere with Sirius and Lily. There was no way they could reach Hogwarts in time to raise the alarm, and even if they could they risked being arrested or killed on sight. The Weasleys were still out of reach, and Albus had spent weeks coordinating with their reserve members, sowing the seeds for today.
They had nothing and no one.
"Dora?"
Tonks looked at him helplessly, shaking her head lightly.
"I don't know."
OoO
His wrist felt oddly bereft without the familiar weight of the protection bracelet.
Hadrian stood at the end of the line, his fellow champions in front, and stared blankly at the back of Kaiser's head. He rubbed at the skin between the cuff of his shirt and the edge of his glove, thoughts far away as people swirled around the three of them like a tornado. Faces blurred and voices muddled together as so many conversations took place at once, all to prepare them to enter the stadium. It was such concentrated chaos and the tension in the air snapped higher as the time drew near.
Their respective ministers had already stopped by to see them and though Hadrian was still put off by Lécuyer's deception about the panel, he knew it would not do to publicly be at odds with her. He had accepted her well-wishes graciously and acknowledged the silent regret in her eyes when she had left.
Whatever her reasons for trying to push him into the auror department, Hadrian would much rather hear them later, in private.
The only one of Beauxbatons' retinue that remained now was Madame Maxime. She stood to his left, tall and proud, watching the officials run around with detached interest. She had not said a lot to him since she had returned but her calmness told him that things with the panel members must have gone well.
It was a relief, especially as Karkaroff and Yaxley hovered near their own students, whispering quietly amongst themselves.
Hadrian paid them little attention, distracted as he was. His fingers traced over his pulse point, chasing the memory of Riddle's touch. The man, donning his Dark Lord guise, had not done more than gently press his thumb there while removing the bracelet; but the brief stroke had felt more indecent than the kiss they had shared not five minutes beforehand.
How silly, he thought with a shake of his head, and let his hands fall to his sides.
Riddle – Voldemort – had left along with the ministers after collecting the bracelets, sparing them nothing more than a few words of praise. With so many potential eyes on them Hadrian had not dared to watch him leave, and despite their awkward parting earlier, he found himself remarkably at ease at the moment.
Perhaps it was the promise they had made, to meet after the duel and be honest with each other. Or perhaps…
"I have full faith in you to succeed today."
Hadrian's mouth twitched, his chest warm at the memory.
"Alright!" Yaxley called, clapping his hands. The noise in the tent tapered off. "It's time. If you'd all follow me," he said, sweeping his hand at the champions and two other school heads.
The Hogwarts Headmaster stepped towards the front of their little procession and started down the tunnel that would lead them out onto the pitch. Hadrian cast a final look at Maxime and received a simple, encouraging nod; then the two of them followed the rest into the dimly lit passage.
Jets of sunlight cut through the tunnel at random intervals, falling through the wooden beams above them and blinding Hadrian whenever they crossed over his face. It was a short walk, barely taking a minute until they reached the end and stood before the large wall of wooden panelling that separated them from the pitch. The full roar of the crowd rose and fell like waves, making it difficult to hear Yaxley as the man turned to speak to them one last time.
"There is a platform waiting just beyond here," he explained loudly. "You'll walk out and step onto it. We'll be lifted up to do one circuit of the pitch so the audience can see you, and then we'll be moved to the duelling stage. The champions will be left there while myself and the other heads will be moved away." He fixed the three of them with a stern glare. "You will wait until the signal to begin is given. Anyone that attempts to start before that will be disqualified. Understood?"
After trading suspicious looks, Hadrian and the others murmured an agreement.
Yaxley waited a second longer, his warning lingering, then spun on his heels and raised his hand. The wall in front of them opened, and the rush of heat and light was an assault to the senses. Hadrian squinted, marching forward with Draco and Kaiser to the rising screams of the audience. Their group stepped onto the small platform, just as Yaxley had ordered, and Hadrian gripped the railing to steady himself as they smoothly began to ascend.
The stadium towered above them, transformed from the usual oval shape into a rectangle. Alternative stands had been constructed, cutting off the two curved ends of the pitch to allow for better viewing, and the traditional colours of the four Hogwarts houses had been changed. The decorations reflected the three distinct factions.
Gold with smatterings of silver and green for Hogwarts.
Red, grey and black for Durmstrang.
Blue and silver for Beauxbatons.
It was a jarring clash of colours, made even more disorientating by the movement of the people, but when they flew past a section of his peers, Hadrian was filled with a fierce thrill. He waved, smiling at the answering cry of support, before diverting his attention to the stage.
Just as Malfoy had described, it was huge. Floating fifty metres in the centre of the stadium, the off-white of the stone shone like a beacon against the backdrop of school pride. The three of them, in their bright uniforms, would be easily distinguishable against it regardless of how far away an audience member was.
As they completed their circuit and drew closer, Hadrian was able to make out the proverbial net ready to catch anyone who fell – a faint blue shimmer that expanded out from below the stage.
Seeing it loosened a small knot of worry, and as their platform came to a stop above the middle of the arena and lowered enough to allow the three of them to hop off, Hadrian felt the return of his earlier confidence. Maybe it was arrogant of him, but duelling was one of his favourite things to do and he was good at it. It was different from every other aspect of academics – one of the truest forms of expression a witch or wizard could have, and Hadrian genuinely loved it.
The adrenaline. The clash of spells. The speed and cunning required.
Gods, he could already feel the flush of excitement.
Yaxley cast sonorus, his voice booming out across the open space. Hadrian ignored the prepared speech, instead taking the time to try and pinpoint where people would be sitting. He would not be able to find his friends, lost as they would be under the paraphernalia, but he could see where the guests of honour were placed. Riddle and his entourage, the ministers and other government officials and, of course, the panel that would be evaluating him would all be there.
Hadrian tilted his head, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the sun as Yaxley went into the rules of the match. It was nothing he had not heard before, though the reality of a no holds barred duel had his stomach fluttering in nervous joy.
So long as he avoided anything too Dark, Hadrian knew he would come out of this with strong marks.
"Good luck, Champions!"
The platform holding the three school heads began to lift away, and through unspoken agreement, the three of them started to put some distance between them. Gold, glowing marks appeared above them, sparking as they slowly turned in the air.
Hadrian watched the numbers tick down, then dropped his eyes to Draco and Kaiser. They faced inwards, at least ten metres between them, tensed in preparation for the signal. Hadrian slowly pulled his wand out of its holster, darting his gaze between his two opponents.
There were so many ways this could go, but he had a hunch on what their first moves would be.
He smirked, shifting to the tips of his toes.
3.
2.
1.
The numbers popped into a spray of gold dust, and Hadrian snapped his wand up, blocking the simultaneous attacks from Draco and Kaiser.
His shield glimmered in front of him, and Hadrian's smirk bloomed into a wide grin.
This was going to be so much fun.
OoO
Clasping the glass vial securely, Albus tucked his hands behind his back as he quietly watched the sun continue its trek across the sky.
Breathing in deeply, all he could smell was the clean scent of the woodsmoke. It wafted gently across the plain from the nine small fire pits placed evenly around the white ritual circle painted on the ground. Ambient magic warmed the air pleasantly, the touch of it as soft as a lullaby.
For just a moment he let his eyes slide shut.
There were potentially hours still to come, depending on how the third task progressed, so he guiltily savoured this last allowance of peace.
Today was the day.
After decades of failure, of loss and senseless pain, today things would finally be put to right. All their work would come to fruition. His only regret was that it had come to such extremes – that the safest route for his people required such a high price.
Albus sighed, his watery blue eyes opening to gaze at the horizon.
He ached for Harry. For what they were about to do to him, for the betrayal and heartbreak the boy would surely feel if he survived.
This choice was a cruel one, he knew. One made necessary only by Albus' countless mistakes. But the time where he might have been able to confront and defeat Tom had long since passed.
Harry really was the only option they had left.
The only person that Tom might hesitate at harming.
The only person that Tom wanted enough to contemplate staying his hand.
Albus twisted the vial in his palm, rotating it carefully as the heaviness in his chest grew stronger. Wherever he was now, Gellert was undoubtedly laughing at him.
"In a kinder life," he said to himself, "Harry would never have even heard the name Tom Riddle."
He glanced over his shoulder, looking at the only other person with him.
Lily stood just to the side of the ritual circle, swaying slightly with a dazed yet content expression. She was humming to herself, green eyes dull as she blinked lazily, her normally sharp mind calm under his spell.
They were waiting for Emmeline's message. Once the task was finished and Harry no longer endangered by the tournament, they could begin.
Albus knew that Lily would understand in the end.
"Your son is going to save us all, my dear."
So Sirius got loose, Lily's still stuck with the Order, Hadrian's had a full morning with a couple of emotional chats, Remus, Tonks and Cedric tried and failed to make a difference, the task has only just begun, and Albus is waiting in the wings to ruin everything! :D
Thanks for the patience, and for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts!
As always, you can visit my tumblr ('Child_OTKW') if you want to discover theories, scream at me, discuss new snippets or get some behind the scenes commentary! Thanks guys!
