A Magical World: Power, Pride, and Selfishness

by Lincoln859

Fame that actually means something, until it doesn't. Goblins that aren't nice, aren't honorable, are not friendly…or are they? Family; more important than anything, until the day it isn't. Magic; wonder, joy, Power. A world of competence, a world of monsters, one that explores darkness and light in equal measure. One where the hero…isn't. But he is. Further summary inside.

A Magical World; Power, Pride, and Selfishness

Summary: Potters that have a Secret, passed down for generations. Goblins that aren't nice, aren't honorable, are not friendly…or are they? Family; more important than anything, until the day it isn't. Magic; wonder, joy, Power. A world of competence, a world of monsters, one that explores darkness and light in equal measure. One where the hero…isn't. But he is. Light, Dark, Gray; what even are those? Selfishness, the truth of us all, the truth of the world. Is a hero a hero if he is selfish? If he likes his fame? What about if he acted in his own self-interest? A world, full of wonder and horror alike. People, ever changing, ever moving. Power, the eternal desire. Wealth, the eternal want. Love, the eternal need.

Do you dare to read it? It's not kind, not pleasant, not nice. Possibly not even well written. It will have drugs, abuse, magic good, bad, and weird. Character death, brutality, torment and torture. Slavery, prostitution, monstrosities committed by normal people and monsters alike. Potions and broken minds. Harry will not be a paragon; even in some "dark" stories he's still far too nice a guy. He won't be a monster to begin with, possibly not ever. That distinction is left to you.

Is he good? Evil? Somewhere in between? I don't know. I won't make that call; his choices will be based off of what he wants, what he needs, or what he believes to be best for him. Don't expect a normal person, or an exceptional one. The summary isn't straightforward, and neither is my character. Enjoy, or don't, the choice is yours. Should you not like what I write, there is always the option of the little red X at the top right of your screen. Or the back button; I'm not picky.

Story contains quite a few things, even in this first chapter. Standard warnings apply for any M-rated story, and even more so considering it is the product of my fucked-up mind. So; A dichotomy of a world, one that will not be happy or fun all the time, yet is not intended to be so incredibly full of angst and sorrow that it is all it contains. If you are upset by death, blood, pain, foul language, lemons and limes, mentioned child abuse, general gore, future relationships, magic abuse, consequences of decisions, criminals that are actually criminals, competent officials, slaves/slavery, magical creatures that aren't reskinned humans, or sacrifice, this is not going to be the story for you. The same shall hold true if you are against fluffy moments, future romance, happiness, entire chapters of things that seem to hold no purpose to the plot, or large descriptions of seemingly pointless yet pretty things. If you are against the deaths of multiple people both friend and foe, powerful characters, a massive amount of citrusy content, op characters, or a wider world, this fic is not for you. I do feel the need to explain the citrus comment thing, considering the fact that Harry starts off at 11. I, personally, am of two minds with it. While I am not going to be detailing an 11-year-old actually having sex with various women/men like some authors do, and definitely not treating said 11-year-old as the personal whore of Hogwarts as some people do, I AM going to be coming close to the first one. Sex makes the world go round, and when I was in third grade I walked in on a kid my age masturbating, and two years later we all got the talk. So, despite all the glorious efforts of our parents/teachers/anyone of power, kids learn about shit they aren't supposed to far too easily. This effect is multiplied when you are the literal celebrity of celebrities in an entire society, such as Harry is.

He will be the focus of quite a few older women, and girls around his age, who will have neither hesitation or shame in using their bodies to make him happy/convince him to see things their way. Both of these happen in this very chapter, and the first will happen at the beginning of the second. The desires of people rule them, and while I'm not going to make an actual fully-fledged lemon until third year at the earliest, limes will be often, and graphic descriptions will be common, and will likely only become richer in detail as I flush out this story.

Basically, if you are easily offended or hyper focused on one particular type of fanfiction, don't read this. If you believe that the Muggle World is obviously superior to the Magical World, and there is no possible way for Wizards and Witches to be better with their backwards ways, don't read this. Following up on that, I ask that you don't flame the ever-loving hell out of me because you don't agree with the way I'm writing something…although I'm pretty sure that will be ignored. End line; if you don't like the story, that's fine, just don't read it. Don't waste your time being a cunt.

~A Magical World~

Hadrian James Potter had always known something was strange about it him…at least as far as he could remember. From the very beginning of the green light and the dark laughter, something had been strange about him.

It hadn't taken him long to figure out that he was strange however; the clues were not exactly subtle. From his earliest memories of being smacked for making noise, being ignored, and being forced to learn how to clean himself up even while the miniature whale that he was forced to call his cousin was given all he wanted had driven that home quite easily. It hadn't even taken the extra efforts of beating him or calling him freak or worthless up until the very day before he started his first day of school. That had actually been pleasant, for he'd learned his name that night. The rather fierce lecture to answer to "Harry", a proper normal name unlike Hadrian had been…interesting, to say the least.

It also hadn't taken the weekly rants about their generosity. That was something; generosity. He hadn't actually learned what that word meant until after he'd started school, but he'd nearly gotten into trouble after learning it. Generosity; the quality of being kind or generous. Of course, it had taken learning what generous meant, but the bitter laugh that he'd let loose after growing up enough to understand what monsters his relatives were had caused more than one person to question his sanity. Not that they thought all that highly of his sanity to begin with. Not after all his relatives had done.

His relatives; the Dursleys. A family of three, utterly obsessed with being normal. To this day Hadrian still didn't understand why, but if one was to look at their home, or even their neighborhood, that was all one would see.

Normal.

An entire street of houses that looked the exact same; lawns that looked the same. Gardens that looked the same, cars that all followed the same make and model of class. Children who dressed the same, went to the same schools and grew up with the same lifestyles. Normal. Normal.

A lifestyle which allowed for nothing unique, nothing exotic or entertaining. The most amusement one could get was from the comedies on the telly, or perhaps from reading a good book…at least for those who were allowed to read.

For nothing could possibly ever be quite so idyllic as it looked; nothing is ever that normal. Private Drive, the highly respectable upper middle-class neighborhood of normality that it was, held a secret, one that everybody ignored more thoroughly than schools ignored bullying, and Hadrian could speak from personal experience that that was a great deal of ignorance indeed. The secret was kept locked away in Number 4, and to his everlasting amusement and bitterness, he was that secret.

Walk through Number 4 Private Drive, and one would find a family that was every bit idyllic as the neighborhood seemed. A family of three that perhaps lived in excess, were one to look at the heavily overweight Father and Son, but a family that quite clearly loved and adored each other. The mother, Petunia Dursley, a thin and nosy woman who nevertheless adored her baby boy. She was certainly no bastion of humanity, being neither all that pretty nor all that kind, to say nothing of her intelligence, but she was an icon in their little community. One that had dirt on all her neighbors, one that could turn any gift from a loving husband into the source of a family argument with just a few poisoned compliments. The father, Vernon Dursley, a quite well-to-do man in the employ of Grunnings Drill Company; a very respectable company, if not very exciting, for they provided high quality drills for all sorts of things, from the dentists to the mining companies. Vernon, of course, was not in the factories making the drills, but he was in the management of said company. He was one of the men who made decisions for this to be done by that time, regardless of what it meant for the men and women who had to work overtime and miss their children's lives due to that decision.

It went without saying that Mr. Dursley was home no later than 5:30 P.M. every day.

The son, Dudley Dursley, quite clearly the apple of his parents' eyes. Taking after his father far more than his mother, Dudley was growing far wider than he was tall, but despite that he was one of the most popular children in the neighborhood, quite clearly growing up to be a pillar of society, destined to go far in a company just like Vernon did. Perhaps he was a bit spoiled, perhaps he strutted about a bit too arrogantly, but all the adults of the neighborhood were quite proud that their sons were friends with the boy, for just like his father, Dudley was going to make it big one day.

And Vernon's story was oh so wonderful too; he hadn't come from money, hadn't been comfortable in his youth like his wife had been. No no no, Vernon Dursley had earned his way to the top of Grunnings Drills through hard work and devotion. He'd served his time, thank you very much, and he was raising his beloved son and making sure that he had everything that Vernon hadn't had growing up. A statement that never failed to get toasts at the neighborhood gatherings, and never failed to ensure that his bosses thought about him just that bit more favorably come raise time.

Nobody ever talked about the fourth member of the Dursley family; there were no pictures, no evidence in the house, not even a toy. If that fourth, mysterious resident was mentioned, it was in a hushed tone where the Dursleys couldn't hear, for after the way they had been put out to try and take care of this fourth member only for that person to spit in their faces repeatedly…well, nobody wished to cause any additional drama. Even gossips who had nothing better to do had limits, after all.

He was the fourth member; Hadrian James Potter. Left on their doorstep like the morning milk delivery with nothing more than a letter and a blanket by a bunch of freaks like him. They took him in for nothing, generously accepting him into their delightful home and family, no matter how much of a burden a useless freak like him was on their finances, family, and standing. He'd asked once why they hadn't just given him to an orphanage; he'd gotten a beating for it, before being locked into his cupboard.

Oh yes; the perfect, normal family was the exact opposite of that. What kind of people locked a child in a cupboard? Especially when Number 4, just like every other home on Private Drive, had four bedrooms. Perfect for the married couple and one or two kids, sometimes leaving room for a guest room. In this particular case, the rooms belonged to Vernon and Petunia, a guest room, and two, two bedrooms for dear little Dudley. Naturally, nobody knew that particular fact; nobody had ever bothered to ask him where he slept.

Still, Hadrian, or Harry on the few times that his relatives were forced to refer to him by name rather than boy or freak, was meant to be grateful for his relatives. They gave him a roof over his head, food on the table, clothes to wear, even glasses when his eyesight was proven bad enough to warrant them by the teachers. Never mind that the roof was just the cupboard under the stairs that everybody enjoyed stomping on, that the food on the table was never for him, the clothes were Dudleys cast-offs, and the glasses were the cheapest option that always gave him a headache. But then, for at least the last one, he'd had a low-grade headache for as long as he could remember; he attributed it to living with the Dursleys. Despite that, looking at smaller things, such as writing, always caused that low-grade headache to explode into a migraine as he forced his eyes to make out what the words would say.

The story that the rest of the world knew was entirely different, however. They'd taken him in; weren't they such generous people? The Dursley family had tried their best; it wasn't their fault that the child was just bad blood. It wasn't the fault of the well-liked Dursley family that their nephew was disturbed. That he spoiled good food rather than eat it, which was why he was so thin compared to the other men in the family. That he damaged the clothes they bought for him, so they wound up giving him Dudley's cast offs, because at least those kept him covered and he didn't destroy them. It surely wasn't their fault that the child was a delinquent who lied so much and threw so many temper tantrums that he broke the glasses they'd so lovingly bought for him.

Of course, the older the boy got, the worse he was; he was a delinquent, a freak, a disappointment, and the whole neighborhood knew it. So what if he had a busted lip or a black eye occasionally? He quite clearly needed some discipline in life, and it was just a shame that such a wonderful family had to provide it. So the boy walked with a limp every time report cards came out, typically breathing shallowly as well. What of it? It was hardly the Dursley's fault that the boy refused to learn his lesson and stop cheating so much. Even the kids knew it! Each and every kid in the neighborhood would complain about his cheating off of them at school, or harassing them in the park; anything to keep away from dear little Dudley's wrath.

It was at the point where anything that Hadrian said in the neighborhood was checked with three different sources and still considered a lie. Which was impressive, considering that he only ever said anything to the teachers, sat alone in class in a corner, and ate alone at lunch on the rare occasion he managed to scrounge up something to eat. He kept his head down, kept his thoughts and opinions to himself, and just tried to survive with as little abuse as possible, and was still called a liar for things he hadn't even said! If it wasn't so sad it would probably be amusing.

For several years, as long as he had been intelligent enough to wonder actually, he had wondered just why he was so abnormal. What was it about him that caused such problems? It couldn't have been his looks; strangers who'd never heard the Dursley's speak called him a cute kid, and as he'd grown up and learned what was pretty and what wasn't he'd come to realize it was accurate. He was attractive, at least when his face wasn't marred by his dearly beloved Uncles form of discipline. Pale skin with vivid green eyes and ink black hair; he looked better than any of his relatives, no matter what they said to the contrary.

Part of it was likely due to the way he had been delivered; babies on the doorstep overnight was far from normal. But the rest of it likely had to do with the strange things that happened when he was running on emotions. Anger, fear, sorrow; on one incredibly memorable occasion happiness.

It started off rather simple, back when he was first starting school. His teacher walked into that room already disliking him and adoring Dudley, so when Dudley and his friends did something and then blamed him for it, she hadn't hesitated to punish him. In response, in his distress, her hair had somehow wound up turned blue. Hadrian had no clue how it happened, at least in the beginning. And then came the next event; his aunt had bought a sweater for Dudley, one that was particularly horrid. Horrid enough that Dudley had thrown a temper tantrum at the mere idea of having to put it on. So, naturally, Petunia had decided that she wasn't going to waste the terrible thing, and had proceeded to try and force it on him. After ensuring that it fit by forcing it over his head, she nodded, taking it to wash it. After recovering from the iron skillet to the head that had allowed her to put it on him, Hadrian had wanted nothing more than for that sweater to burn.

The dryer caught fire.

Hadrian hadn't been in the house when it did, and that was probably the only thing that had saved his life. When he'd gotten back Petunia had been crying into Vernon's arms as the man did his best to comfort her. He'd told her that he was going to beat the freak for this, only for her to shake her head in his shoulder. Her words that she'd kicked him out the house while she did some laundry had caused him to take a completely different route in comforting her; it wasn't her fault, it was an old dryer anyways, and really wasn't it time that they got a whole new washer and dryer anyways? Naturally, the idea of expensive new things had calmed Petunia down, and after the fire department had cleared the room, they'd gone to the kitchen to look over a few magazines, Vernon doing his best to answer the questions she asked.

It had taken two weeks to get a new set; in addition to buying the best washer and dryer to ensure they could brag about it to the neighbors, they'd had to call in an electrician to fix the connection. Vernon had no desire for another fire in his house; the next one might not be caught in time. Two weeks of Hadrian wondering if he'd been the cause of the fire, like Vernon had immediately expected. Two weeks of washing the whole family's clothes by hand; being the only one to do so. Two weeks of wondering how Dudley and Vernon didn't buy new sets of underwear every day. Not long after that his Aunt had decided she was sick of seeing his freaky hair that refused to look normal. So she'd cut it off…only for it to grow back overnight. He'd been locked inside the cupboard for a while after that. Strangely enough it was the only haircut he could ever remember having.

Things escalated a bit from there; one day a pen exploded in his hand. Then a week later he wound up magically on top of a roof after running from Dudley's little gang; four children from Private Drive who were more than happy to follow Dudley's example. And then, on one particularly memorable day, he'd caused five people to faint dead away as they tried to beat him. Unlike all the other events, Hadrian hadn't actually gotten in trouble for that one. Dudley's pride had some benefits to Hadrian; few and far between, but they were occasionally there.

Yes, Hadrian wasn't normal. He'd kept his eyes and ears open; normal folk never had those things happen to them. The fire, possibly, but combined with everything else? Most especially the teleporting and knocking five people unconscious. So he'd known he wasn't normal for a few years now.

The strangeness and freakiness had carried on for years, culminating in a letter on July 24th, a week ago to the day…technically. Give or take a few hours. A letter that had caused him both amusement and anger, starting off from the very beginning of it.

Mr. H. J. Potter

Cupboard Under the Stairs

Number 4, Private Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

That was the outside of the letter, written in cold black ink on the envelope made of parchment. Caught by surprise at the far too accurate address, and no little anger as well, he hadn't paid as much attention as he should have. Instead of throwing it in his cupboard to look at later he'd brought it with him to the table, and his Uncle had immediately snatched it from him and burned it after exchanging several looks with his Aunt.

The really strange things began happening then. More letters appeared each day; within two days he had been moved into Dudley's second bedroom even despite the tantrum that the overweight child had thrown, something that had stunned both boys. Never before had a tantrum failed to get Dudley what he wanted from his parents, but with the repeated arrival of the letter he was out of luck. On July 30th Vernon had finally had enough; they'd left the house completely; Vernon had bought a shotgun and a few snacks along the way, even if the family hadn't known about the first part to begin with.

They'd been brought out to this place; a lighthouse of all things. In the middle of a brewing storm they'd rowed out to a lighthouse just offshore; well, they meaning him. It was easily one of the hardest things he'd ever done; truth be told Hadrian was just amazed that the boat had floated when he thought about how much weight had been in it. Fortunately, it hadn't been terribly far out, and the waters had been calm, otherwise Hadrian knew they would have never made it under his strength alone. Even though how he'd managed it to begin with was completely unknown to him; Hadrian…wasn't strong. How could he be, when he'd never once eaten his fill in his entire life? Going hungry more often than not was no way to build the strength needed to row two massive individuals and two smaller ones through the ocean.

The night hadn't ended there, much as Hadrian was sure the Dursley's wished it had. After a dinner of three bags of chips and three water bottles, which had had Dudley flipping out with no result, the Dursley family had gone to bed. It had taken Dudley a while to settle into sleep; Hadrian had spent a lot of time grinning so wide it hurt as his spoiled cousin finally learned what it meant to go to bed hungry. It was the happiest he'd been in a while. Maybe it was cruel to take joy from Dudley's pain, but it was something he couldn't help. Hadrian had spent years going completely without food, and there had never been a time that he could remember that hunger had not gnawed at his stomach. He had no idea why he was still alive sometimes…

Hadrian, unable to sleep, had stayed awake, waiting for his birthday to arrive. That was a thing; birthdays. His delightfully normal family had eagerly and happily celebrated all of their own birthdays with gifts and showers of affection. Asking what a birthday was had earned him time in the cupboard. Asking when his birthday was had earned a beating; Hadrian hadn't asked about that anymore. Instead he'd left it alone until he was in Year 1, back when he was five; the teacher had made a point to give each student a cupcake on their birthday; students whose birthdays were during the summer got theirs on the last day of school. It remained the only treat that Hadrian had gotten for his birthday until today, and it had made him so happy he caused seven lights on the floor above them to explode. Still, as good as it was, the knowledge that his birthday was on July 31st had been the true gift, allowing Hadrian to at least wish himself happy birthday. He knew nobody else ever would…or had, until today.

That brought his mind to what had happened just over two hours ago; something that left his mind spinning so chaotically that he couldn't go to sleep. He'd drawn himself a birthday cake in the dust; the house hadn't been stayed in for quite some time. Exactly as Dudley's watch had beeped out midnight, he'd blown out his "candles" …and then a mighty slam shook the house. Something angry was knocking at the door. The first boom woke up the whole house; the second had Vernon and Petunia rushing downstairs, Dudley crawling behind the couch he'd just fallen off of, and Hadrian hiding in a corner where the wall could hide him from view.

The door came off it's hinges at the fourth boom, revealing a giant of a man. Standing several feet above Vernon, utterly unintimidated by the shotgun the man was menacing him with, the man proceeded to walk in and blow Hadrian's mind…alongside that of the entire family as he twisted a metal shotgun up with no effort whatsoever. He'd introduced himself as Rubeus Hagrid (Call me Hagrid, everyone does), Groundskeeper and Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts, and promptly told Hadrian he was a Wizard.

All those things Hadrian had done when he was upset, scared, angry, or even happy…they were magic! Actual, real, undeniable magic, and when Dudley had stolen the cake that Hagrid had brought for Hadrian's birthday the man had proven that magic existed beyond any possible doubt; Dudley now had a pig's tail. Not a metaphor, not a practical joke; a literal, curly pig's tail coming from his oversized bottom. Hadrian still giggled at the thought of it. If that wasn't magic Hadrian didn't know what could be.

Still…Hadrian was a Wizard. Someone who could use magic to do…who knows what all? Thoughts of him able to control fire and ice, calling storms, and drinking from a never-ending cup came to mind. That last one was more a flight of fancy than the first ones if he was being honest, but it didn't change the fact that it had popped up. He couldn't help but wonder how much of the scattered stories he'd heard were actually true. The Dursley's had made a remarkable effort to remove any evidence of "freakishness" from their house; even Dudley wasn't allowed that sort of thing. Did Witches really ride brooms? Brew potions? Eat children? The last one couldn't be true, at least, but Hadrian would hold out hope for the first one. The idea of flying was amazing.

The boy looked over at Hagrid, the giant man spread out on the floor. Dudley was upstairs with the rest of his family, which had left Hadrian on the couch since Hagrid was far too big to lay on it. The sad part was that this old couch was actually softer than his bed in his cupboard was…and softer than the bed in Dudley's second bedroom. How that happened, he didn't know, but it was. Hadrian honestly wouldn't put it past the Dursley's to intentionally get the worst possible mattress for him once they'd decided to move him there.

Tomorrow…later today, they'd be leaving, off somewhere to buy his "supplies". Robes, books, potion ingredients, a trunk, all new writing tools, a telescope, and a wand. He was probably missing things as well, but it didn't really matter now. How was he supposed pay for it all? Where were they even going to go to get all of it?

This wasn't even bringing into mind his parents; the Dursley's had lied, completely. They hadn't told him a single bit of truth about his parents until the moment they'd had no other option. For years he'd been told they were drug addicts and drunkards who'd died in a car crash. Hagrid had blown up even further with that revelation.

For years his mother had been called a whore and his father a drunkard. His Aunt had almost gleefully told him lies about her own sister; almost, if it wasn't for the anger and bitterness in her tone when she was degrading both her sister and the man her sister had married. Vernon was even worse, constantly, daily telling him he was worthless just like his parents. Now, knowing the truth…well, Hadrian had a lot of ideas that magic might be able to help him with in the future.

Then there was the wizard who'd murdered his parents. Voldemort. The name didn't sound all that scary, although Hadrian supposed he was missing a lot of context. A wizard, a Dark Wizard, who'd murdered his parents before failing to kill him, had terrorized an entire population. Or at least Hagrid. Hadrian really wasn't all that sure of the details. He really didn't know how to feel about it either. It would have to be something he'd think on.

Truth be told a lot of this was stuff he'd have to think on. All of it, really. Hagrid wasn't really good at explaining things. The boy groaned quietly to himself before turning on the couch.

Hadrian tried to shut his mind up, tried to go to sleep. It didn't work all that well; it would take him a long time to get to sleep with all the questions and worries he had running through his head. He needed to sleep, but at the same time he didn't want to. If he woke up on the cold hard floor to a kick in the ribs from Dudley or Vernon it would break his heart the moment he remembered this dream. If he remembered it.

When he woke up, hopefully, he would be entering an entirely new world. As much as he feared it being a dream…

He couldn't wait.

The odd sound of tapping on glass woke him up. Drowsy, unsure of where he was, but comfortable and quite warm for the first time he could remember, Hadrian was quite reluctant move. The tapping continued, reminding him of the memory of the zoo. Finally, he opened his eyes, breath catching in his throat as he witnessed his dream still existing in the real world. Hagrid, that giant man from the previous night, was still stretched out on the floor...and that tapping was still not letting up!

The boy looked around in confusion, hands forcing their way out from the massive coat to rub at his eyes. He soon managed to find the disturbance after his eyes were clear of gunk and his glasses put on; of all the things, an owl was tapping at the window! Shaking his head at this, he wriggled his way free and went to the window, opening it up to let the owl in. It fluttered over to the couch, landing on the back before looking at him and displaying its pouch. Confused, Hadrian went to open it, only for an irritable hoot to sound out of its beak, making him jolt. A grunt came from Hagrid, startling him further.

"Pay 'im." The confused child responded instantly and eloquently.

"What?" Hagrid came a bit further into the land of the living.

"Pay 'im. Five knuts, tha little bronze coins. Should be in one of tha pockets." Hadrian started digging through them; something nibbled on his hand in one of the many pockets, causing him to jerk it back out, but he soon found coins. Three different types; decent sized bronze ones with an engraved K, silver ones a smaller size with an engraved S, and golden ones even smaller than those with a G. Silver, Gold, and Knuts? That didn't make any sense whatsoever…

He counted out five of them, putting it in a second little pouch on the owl's leg that was held out, and then the bird displayed the first pouch again. Opening it up revealed a paper; reaching in and grabbing it had a roll of paper that couldn't have fit in what looked like a little messenger bag. Hooting, the owl promptly left, leaving Harry to unroll the paper. The Daily Prophet flashed at him above a moving picture of a portly man standing in front of a fancy desk, smiling and waving at Hadrian…or whoever else looked at the paper, he supposed. The headline of "Fudge's Fair Deal" confused him; a scan of the front page article only served to confuse him further, making his eternal headache flare up a bit. A wince crossed his features even as Hagrid got up, reaching over to the coat and fishing around in one of the pockets. Hadrian looked up, frowning slightly as Hagrid pulled out a set of large sausages.

"Yeh hungry, Harry?" Hadrian nodded eagerly; he hadn't had much to eat last night, hadn't eaten anything in fact, so he was starving. Admittedly, that was normal in his life, but the idea of eating the biggest sausages he'd ever seen was quite appealing.

Turning his eyes back to the paper, he tried to make sense of it. Supposedly this "Fudge" was fulfilling his word, giving all who treated muggles fairly "fair deals". Hadrian was missing a great deal of context for this, clearly, in addition to migraine he was slowly giving himself. He decided to stop even as the giant spoke up.

"Anythin' good?" Hagrid asked as he lit a fire, somehow pulling out a pan to fry the sausages in. How that fit in his pockets, Hadrian didn't know. Speaking of things he didn't know…

"I have no idea Hagrid. Something about a guy named Fudge giving people "fair deals"." Hagrid nodded to himself before speaking.

"Tha' sounds about right, Harry. Fudge is the Minister for Magic, that bein' tha head of tha Ministry for Magic. Tha Ministry is our government." Hadrian nodded to himself; why not? Magic was secret, hidden from the non-magical folk. Why not have a secret government as well?

"So…what is the fair deal?" Hagrid snorted, focusing more on cooking than the conversation.

"That, Harry, is politics. Fudge got elected offa tha' deal that any who treated muggles with "fairness", would get a "fair deal" themselves. The idea was tha' any who had been usin' magic on muggles before, so long as they stopped, wouldn' ta been charged with a crime. Needless ta say, many aren't even gettin' a smack on tha wrist for things that should see them in Azkaban…tha's the wizarding jail. 'Orrible place." Hadrian nodded slowly, confusion slowly making way for comprehension.

"Are there a lot of wizards who use magic on…muggles?" Hagrid shrugged.

"Yes an' no. See, wizards are both good an' bad Harry, jus' like muggles are. Some wizards think they're better than muggles, tha' they shouldn't a have to hide away from them like we do. Others believe tha' the bes' way ta peace is to keep us separate. Both sides 'ave been debating this for longer than I've been alive Harry, and it'll keep goin' long after I'm dead. It's no' an argument with easy answers, leas' not anything other than the better than muggles thing. Wizards are no better than muggles Harry; we're just different." Hadrian nodded again before settling in to wait for breakfast to be ready. It was something he would have to think about. Wizards better than muggles…truth be told, Hadrian thought he would have difficulty finding wizards worse than his relatives. Hopefully most of them weren't as willfully blind as most muggles he'd met. He was having to put in no small amount of effort to call the non-magicals muggles rather than normal; the Dursleys had left their mark.

The food was wonderful for Hadrian; Hagrid saw it as nothing special, but for the starved boy it was easily one of the best things he'd ever eaten. If Hagrid thought it was odd how eager the boy was for something as simple as sausages, he said nothing, just letting him eat his fill. It didn't take long.

The two left the house on the boat the Dursley's came on, causing Hadrian to feel a sudden surge of glee. That glee turned more innocent as Hagrid used magic to speed them along, a bit sheepishly, but still successfully. Hadrian just watched it, awed by something so simple, his mind happily taking it all in.

Getting to London didn't take all that long; they got quite a few strange looks in the subways, but it only took one train to get to where they needed to go. Charing Cross Road wasn't that far from the station they stopped at, and Hagrid bustled him along quite quickly. Sadly enough, Hagrid hushed most of his questions with a "we don' need ta talk about this here Harry." It made the magic all feel a bit less… real.

Eventually they stopped in front of strange looking building; old, somewhat grimy looking from the outside, with peeling yellow lettering announcing it as "The Leaky Cauldron." Hadrian admitted quietly to himself that he was a bit disappointed. Shouldn't Wizards be able to make their buildings look a bit…nicer?

Hagrid didn't even hesitate, beckoning Hadrian forward with a smile.

"'Ere we go Harry. The Leaky Cauldron; we have ta go through here to get your supplies." It seemed odd, but Hadrian shrugged to himself and followed the older man inside…blinking in surprise at the sudden change.

From the outside, The Leaky Cauldron was a building in disrepair, ugly, something that wasn't worthy of looking at for anything other than a brief moment of disgust before continuing on and thinking about better things. On the inside, it was completely different. It was still clearly a pub of some sorts, but that was the only similarity.

Light brown wood made up the floor, coated with something Hadrian had never seen before. Polished to a shine but…not, at the same time. No light reflected off the floor at all, despite being well lit by candle chandeliers that filled the room with the soft smell of vanilla. A background smell, pleasant, but barely registered compared to the delicious food that was cooking and had already been cooked. Even in the rare restaurant Hadrian had been in smelled of grease or cloying candles, but here there was no grease…just the wonderful smell of bacon, sausage, chicken, coffee, and tea, all blending so perfectly well with that hint of vanilla. He didn't even know how it was possible.

The tables were a darker wood; the bar made of the same, Hadrian didn't know what it was. They were polished with a grimier look, but it was clear that they were clean. The glasses behind the bar were cleaned to a sparkle, various people around tables and the bar chatting away happily. An atmosphere of restrained cheerfulness permeated it all; a pub that was neither loud nor obnoxious, but instead carried with it the simple cheer of people taking time to relax and catch up with other people.

It was wonderful.

So, much like his experience with the man so far (no matter how nice he was), Hagrid chose to ruin it with a few well-placed words after the bartender spoke.

"Ah, Hagrid. Usual I presume?" Hadrian couldn't help but look at the man; by all rights he should be ugly. Bald head, pale skin, a bit hunched over from years of waiting and cleaning tables, a few teeth missing… the man should look like everyone else that Hadrian had seen like that. Ugly. Instead brown eyes matched his smile by seeming to sparkle, the expression softening the entire visage from something that could cause fear to something that was welcoming, something that seemed to embody the Leaky Cauldron itself. Ugly from the outside, from first view, but the moment one took a second to look, everything changed.

Hadrian wondered if everything magical was like that.

He actually found himself not minding.

"No thanks Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business." Hagrid's massive hand patted Hadrian lightly on the shoulder, Tom's eyes turning to the boy and bowing his head lightly in welcome.

"Jus' takin' Harry here to get his school supplies." No sooner had that been said did everything go screwy, completely, just like his life had been since Hagrid showed up.

"Bless my soul…it's Harry Potter!" Caught completely off guard, Hadrian was unable to do anything but weakly shake the hands of dozens of people that were shoved into his face. He didn't know what was going on, didn't know how anybody knew him. He vaguely recognized one man who'd bowed to him in a store once, but compared to the onslaught of people and names that were presented to him it vanished quickly. It wasn't long before the bartender spoke up, voice easily able to penetrate the din that had arisen.

"Alright already, everybody clear off! You're making the lad uncomfortable you are. Come on now, back, back!" He limped forward, his voice and body causing the collection to go back to their tables and the bar before Tom turned to him, sympathy in his eyes.

"Sorry about that young man. We've all just been waiting for you to enter the Wizarding World again ever since that horrible night; all of Diagon's been busy as can be, everybody waiting on your reappearance. People can get a bit carried away." The black-haired boy nodded shakily, Hagrid once again hurrying him along. Hadrian couldn't stop a frown at that; what horrible night? When his parents died? What exactly happened? It didn't take him long to ask, even as Hagrid shepherded him into the alley behind the pub.

"What was that about Hagrid?" Hagrid stopped, looking at him.

"Why yer famous Harry. I tol' you bout that last night, didn' I?" The child frowned up at him.

"You told me about Voldemort, and how he killed my parents. Nothing about fame." Hagrid flinched heavily at the name, but managed to speak even as he pulled his large umbrella out from his even larger coat.

"Like I said las' night; nobody lived once he decided to kill them. He was taking over Britain Harry. People know you because you stopped him that night; people have known your name ever since." Hadrian really didn't know how to feel about that. Was he going to get swarmed everywhere he went? He didn't like the idea of that.

Hadrian couldn't linger on that; just after Hagrid finished speaking, he tapped a few bricks with the tip of his umbrella. After a seemingly random brick combination was tapped, the bricks shifted. Before disbelieving eyes, a whole new world opened up. Hagrid couldn't stop his own smile at the child's astonished face.

"Welcome Harry, to Diagon Alley." If the Leaky Cauldron was surprisingly nice, Diagon Alley was absolutely stunning. Several dozen people wandering around packed cobblestone streets, but magic was blatant and clearly everywhere. From the robes of everybody, something Hadrian had never seen outside of this morning, to the strange things sitting in the windows. Cauldrons and broomsticks and books and quills; Hadrian didn't even know what it all was. Hagrid gave him a minute to look around and enjoy it, thinking back fondly to his first time seeing it so long ago. But, far too quickly for the astounded child, Hagrid hurried him along. A sudden thought popped into Hadrian's head, worry and fear filling it.

"Hagrid…how exactly am I supposed to pay for all this?" Perhaps there was some kind of scholarship, or a school aid for second hand supplies? Hagrid just turned to him, a slight frown on his face.

"Gringotts o' course, the Wizards Bank. Surely you didn' think your mum and da left you with nothin' now did ya?" Hadrian lowered his head in shame; considering that until the night before he'd believed his mother and father were drunkards who'd died in a car crash, yes, that had been exactly what he believed. He'd had that fact beaten into his head for as long as he can remember. It would take quite some time before he could manage to remove that instinct, and even longer to believe that his family would truly leave him anything. The idea of the Dursley's actually giving him things was…well, Hadrian would say it was laughable, but even that didn't describe how impossible the thought was.

Hagrid hurried Hadrian along, drawing a frown the boy. The giant of a man was terrible at explaining things, and seemed to be making a point to rush him along and not give him the opportunity to even ask questions. It was starting to remind him of the Dursleys; he couldn't ask questions there either. At least Hagrid wasn't hitting him though…

Hadrian was beginning to wonder if he really wanted to be escorted around by Hagrid. He liked him well enough, but he was leaving out incredibly important information and seemed far too willing to gloss over everything that could genuinely help Hadrian understand what this whole new world was about. A very, very, very big example being the fact that he was famous! That was something he needed to know! Not just a mention of "Everybody knows your name", but an actual explanation of the fact that they knew what he looked like!

Hadrian shook his head; it wasn't like there was anything he could do. Hagrid was his only point of contact in this entirely new world. All he could do was follow along and hope that this would provide him a way to get away from the Dursleys. Even if it didn't…well, magic would no doubt provide some form of solution.

~A Magical World~

Gringotts.

The Wizarding Bank.

Founded in the year 896 B.C. by the current calendar, it was founded by an entirely different species who were no longer important in the scheme of things, it was taken over by the Goblins as a fortress in 257 B.C., and was promptly established as the capital of their nation. It remained as such even now, over two thousand years later. To say the absolute least about the massive building would be to state that it was impressive.

Even from the front, with it's massive pillars of pure white marble with not so much as a blemish to be seen, Gringotts made an impression that inspired awe in all who saw it. Larger than any other building in Diagon Alley by a massive degree, towering over it all with majesty and beauty the likes of which the more cramped wizarding buildings couldn't match, Gringotts dominated the landscape from anywhere in the main road. This impression of awe and grandeur was only enhanced the closer one got to the building; once in eyesight of the steps they saw the Goblins.

Goblins; a proud, skillful race which took great pride in its ability to both defend itself and in its crafting abilities. This was shown quite clearly in the guards standing on duty right outside the absolutely massive double doors. Standing at a mere five feet high, they were clad in armor of scarlet and gold, holding halberds at attention. Each of the 12 Goblins outside the bank kept a close eye on each and every single wizard or witch who dared to approach, the words in English carved above the massive bronze doors standing as a warning to any who would enter.

Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there

.

That rhyme took up a fair bit of Hadrian's attention, the newly turned 11-year-old stopping and looking up to read it. The Goblins flanking the doors smirked to themselves, always enjoying the sight of young humans learning to fear them. Green eyes soon found the guards, even as Hagrid spoke.

"This is Gringotts, Harry, the Wizard Bank Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe…'cept maybe Hogwarts.." Hadrian was quick to respond as they began to walk in, voice just barely loud enough for the giant of a man to hear.

"Hagrid…what exactly are those?" Hagrid turned his head to look down at Harry, following his eyes to the Goblins. Recalling that Harry knew nothing, he explained.

"Goblins Harry. Clever as they come, but no' exactly the most friendly beasts. Best stay close." Hadrian did exactly that, a lot more worried now, as Hagrid navigated them into a line. Hadrian couldn't help but look around, seeing as much as he could. Hagrid hadn't exactly helped him understand what Goblins were after all.

Entering the Bank was…an experience. Darkness crashed into him, a full-bodied shudder shaking him. What was that? What was THAT? Hagrid had no patience for it, hurrying him along, one massive hand shaking the cold and fear away with urgency, forcing Hadrian to take in the lobby even as they moved through the ridiculously large room.

The lobby was massive, with fifteen lines just for the section they were in. There were several other Goblins grumpily sitting behind podiums that had only one or two wizards between them all, leaving the child to wonder what they were for.

The line moved quickly, Hadrian left looking up at the Goblin even as Hagrid looked down, speaking a lot clearer and far more carefully than he had so far.

"Mr. Harry Potter would like to make a withdrawal." The creature's lips turned down, his hands pressing on the podium as he levered himself up.

"Ahhh…and does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?" The question was asked with a firm stare, one that only got worse as Hadrian felt panic rise up within him. What key? He'd found out about all this last night! Hagrid jolted slightly, speaking even as he began to dig into the many pockets on his coat.

"Oh, hold on, I've got it 'ere somewhere." The stare turned on Hagrid as the goblin eased back into his chair with a frown; that frown turned into major disapproval as Hagrid started putting random bits and bobs that Hadrian couldn't see on the desk. Tapping one long-nailed finger in impatience, frown deepening with every second, the teller waited. Hagrid finally managed to pull out a key, Hadrian catching a flash of gold in the light. The teller's eyes widened for a second at the sight of it, face smoothing so quickly that Hadrian wasn't even sure he'd seen it. The frown vanished, impatience vanishing, and the creature spoke.

"Very well; I shall arrange for a Runner to escort Mr. Potter to his vault…unfortunately, you will not be able to accompany him." Hagrid was the one to frown now, entire posture becoming more hostile.

"Wha' do ya mean?" The teller remained completely calm, something that Vernon Dursley hadn't been able to manage.

"It means, wizard…" The word Wizard was filled with poison and loathing, sounding just like Vernon had every time he'd said boy.

"Exactly what I said. Due to the Potter Family's Security, you will be unable to accompany him to his vault. It will take some time to deal with it due to the 11 years of neglect." Hagrid's frown deepened.

"Wha'…he's not takin' 'is Lordship. We're jus' 'ere for shoppin'." The teller shrugged.

"His family paid for additional security; no-one other than the Potter's are allowed to go down to their vaults. Furthermore all Heirs to the Potter Family are required to fill out certain forms, forms which you have no business knowing. Now, if you have any further business with Gringotts, I can take care of that. Otherwise, Mr. Potter has business with Gringotts to take care of. If he requires further assistance after his business with Gringotts is handled, we would be more than willing to assist him." A tap on a different part of his podium soon had another goblin appearing from one of the side doors and walking over. Hadrian looked up at Hagrid, concerned. He really didn't want to be left alone with creatures that Hagrid had said weren't friendly, no matter how unhelpful the giant man had made himself out to be. The massive man sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"Alrigh' Harry; I do 'ave to visit a separate vault, but I'll be waiting out 'ere when I'm done for you ta finish." And with that Hagrid promptly abandoned the now terrified child to be escorted by the goblin who had showed up.

"Right this way Mr. Potter. We have much to deal with." With one last look at Hagrid, hoping the giant man could do something to prevent it. A hope that went unanswered as the man turned back to the teller to deal with his own business.

Hadrian reluctantly turned to follow the goblin, the creature dressed in a suit that was perfectly tailored, something that even Vernon couldn't afford. The goblin walked quickly, forcing Hadrian to hurry to keep up. His eyes wandered even still, worry growing with every step, seeing the polished bronze and silver everywhere. It was well lit, and soon they passed into an area with numerous murals on the walls; Hadrian didn't even have time to take them in, noticing only the overarching theme of war and craftmanship. It wasn't long before he was brought to a room with a closed door, two fully armored goblins flanking the door. The goblin escorting him walked up to it, knocking and receiving a gruff "enter" before he opened the door, gesturing Hadrian in.

With his stomach in his throat, he did, the door opening to reveal something that was completely different from everything he'd seen in Gringotts so far.

His shoes hit a rug, a material so fine he felt guilty just wearing the grossly oversized trainers his Aunt had given him. The scarlet rug spread across the inside of the door all the way to the center of the room, a large desk made of some kind of black wood sitting in the center, a chair behind it and one in front of it. Another goblin was there, dressed in another perfectly tailored suit the likes of which even the previous goblin's couldn't compare. Stringy black hair rested above burning amber eyes, the creature clearly not human, yet bearing enough similarity that from a distance it might pass as a very short human. Much like all the other goblins Hadrian had seen, it's face rested in a naturally unfriendly look. The creature looked up, eyes widening slightly before a wide smile spread across it's face.

It took everything Hadrian had not to flinch at the terrifying sight, his mind going haywire.

"Mr. Potter. A pleasure to finally meet you; we at Gringotts have been waiting for that old fool to let you go for a long time now." Confusion spread across his face as the goblin stood, frightening smile showing sharp canines bared in an expression that triggered all the feelings of threat fear panic predator that humans had been trying to surpass for millennia.

"Come in, come in, we have much to discuss." The goblin walked over, gesturing to the sizable armchair in front of his desk. Hadrian walked forward, wondering what was going on even as his heart pounded. Old fool? Let him go? What in the world was going on?

The goblins hand came out when he got closer, smile widening just a bit, waiting for the child to shake his hand. A pale, fragile hand met a calloused, strong one, the creature's smile faltering for a brief moment before they shook hands. Hadrian was left even further off guard when the goblin let him go and stepped back, bowing at the waist to the child.

"On behalf of the Gringotts Nation, Bank, and the entire goblin race; thank you for defeating Voldemort all those years ago. You may not remember it, and judging by your clothes and confusion you may be new to this world, but rest assured; unlike the fool and those who follow him, Gringotts honors its debts. Which is why you are here, Mr. Potter, so if you would please sit down, we can begin." Hadrian, still confused and concerned, steps forward, accepting the ushering into the armchair. Sitting down in it is an experience like no other.

Comfort and pleasure surged through him as he sat down, the cushion and back molding perfectly to his body as the chair somehow reclined, the magic of the chair engulfing the boy entirely. His head hit the cushion as well, the chair having adjusted itself to the person sitting in it so completely that his head didn't even fall back, instead it simply met the expanded chair at the exact point to take all stress from his body. A moan left his lips, unbidden and uncontrolled, the goblin sitting in his own chair with that same sinister grin even as Hadrian's eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

"I'm glad you enjoy the chair; it is a masterpiece of enchanting." Hadrian forced himself back into the world of the living at that, shaking his head to try and leave the delighted daze behind him. The goblin nodded to himself, speaking before the child could.

"Before we begin, might I offer some refreshment?" Once again Hadrian wasn't given the opportunity to respond; a tap of one long finger on a strange symbol on his desk and there was a platter of shining silver, a pot of tea already tickling his nose alongside several crumpets, already buttered. Something he'd never even had the opportunity to try, and before astonished eyes the pot levitated, pouring tea into two cups.

"How do you take your tea, Mr. Potter?" That was a question he didn't know the actual answer to.

"I've never had anything with it…" The Dursley's would have never allowed him to waste milk, cream, or sugar in his tea. He honestly considered himself lucky they even allowed him the occasional cup if there'd been no problems that week; they'd never let him have so much as a sip of Dudley's soda's after all. The goblin's face returned to a blank mask at that, infinitely more professional than the welcoming and sinister smile.

"I see…well, we shall get to that in a bit, for it is one of the things we need to cover today. For the moment, I shall add one sugar." Even as he said it one solitary cube floated into the tea, a spoon stirring it in before four crumpets levitated onto the saucer, the cup joining it, before the entire thing floated over to the boy. Eyes wide, he couldn't stop himself; the saucer continued to levitate even as he removed the cup, tea lightly steaming before his eyes.

Another moan left him as the flavor touched his tongue, warmth and comfort, soothing earthy undertones relaxing him even further. It was like nothing he'd ever tasted, something so far beyond the pale of his experience that all he could do was just enjoy the flavor. It wasn't until the flavor stopped coming that he realized he'd guzzled the liquid down, leaving him looking at it, confused, before heat surged up to his cheeks as he realized what he'd done. Utterly embarrassed, even as a dark chuckle left the goblin, he put it back down, noticing immediately how the pot levitated over and refilled it.

"Feel free to drink as much as you wish, Mr. Potter. You are also more than welcome to the crumpets; please, try one." Flushing even further, the heat uncomfortably radiating down his neck, he picked one up anyways. Expecting it this time, the child was able to suppress the groan of appreciation as the entirely new taste of honey and butter assaulted his senses, both things being something he'd never been able to taste before. A crumpet vanished before he even realized it, a hunger within him that even the mornings sausages hadn't been able to fully sate. The Goblin watched with amusement, allowing the child to eat and drink for a few minutes as his fingers tapped a few more symbols and he pulled out a thin leather folder from his desk.

"As much as I'm sure you're enjoying that, we do need to begin Mr. Potter." With a last bit of tea sipped, the child forced himself to give the creature his undivided attention, all worry gone, all fear replaced with contentment. He was still hungry, but just the fact that he'd been able to eat something made him feel better. Despite that embarrassment still reigned, causing him to speak.

"Sorry…" He really wasn't sure what to do or say; speaking to someone who was clearly and blatantly wealthy was so far beyond Hadrian's comfort zone it was ridiculous, to say nothing of the way he'd reacted at every new thing so far. That same dark smile returned for a moment, just a flash, before the goblin spoke again.

"It is quite alright Mr. Potter; indeed, considering what little we've been able to put together your reactions are to be expected. Still, to business. First and foremost, introductions. You are Heir Hadrian James Potter-Black, in case there was anything there you were unaware of. You are the Heir to the families of Potter and Black due to your father and your godfather, making you a remarkably important person in the world irrespective of anything else. However, it is your other title, that of "The Boy who Lived", that causes myself to be the one to meet you today." The goblins hands came together, elbows on the desk as he gazed at the child with firm amber eyes.

"I am Ragnok Bloodletter, Mr. Potter, Director of Gringotts." Hadrian blanched, causing the goblin to chuckle.

"Worry not Mr. Potter; I am not as easily upset or offended as my human counterparts tend to be. You humans choose your leaders based off of who sounds the best or who is the prettiest; we goblins choose them based off of quality, of the strength of the steel within. As I said, based off of what I know every reaction you've had is to be expected; after all, this is your first day back in the Magical World, right?" Hadrian nodded, color slowly returning to his cheeks. A bit more tea helped to soothe him further, the Director nodding as the child relaxed once more.

"Good; you, unlike any other wizard who would dare step within this office, have no need to fear me Mr. Potter. As I mentioned with my thanks, you have done the world a great service, and Goblins do not forget things that are done for them." Unlike humans- it wasn't said, but even the child could get the unspoken message. He opened his mouth to speak, shutting it as the goblin held up a single finger.

"Like what I mentioned earlier, we shall get to it in a bit. For the moment, I need to clarify something, so that I know how thorough my explanation needs to be. I am aware that you accompanied a Mr. Hagrid into the bank; was he the one to introduce you to the magical world?" Another nod had the Director sighing, long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose even as the child flinched.

"Alright, from the beginning then. I may cover some bits of information that you already know, but if I do it shall be as part of the whole, so I ask that you do not interrupt me." Hadrian nodded his agreement when the creature paused to look at him before speaking again.

"Also, be aware that this is purely a summary of events; no matter how much I owe you on behalf of my people, I do not have the time available to me to go fully into the history of events, for that would take hours upon hours at the minimum." The Goblin finally took a single sip from his own saucer, not a single bit of enjoyment present in his gaze before he began.

"First and foremost, you have entered the Magical World. You humans refer to it as the Wizarding World, but the truth is that there are so many more races and forces moving upon it than humans that it is nothing more than arrogance to refer to it as such. You are allowed entry into this world due to the fact that you were born into a magical family and have the ability to wield magic yourself. As such, you are what is referred to as a Wizard, a magic-user.

Now, while good and evil are just points of view, there are occasionally wizards who go down the path that everything describes as evil. In your particular case, it was a Wizard known as Voldemort. We are unaware of how old he was, what his birth name was, or even just how powerful he truly was, but what we do know is that he was monstrously powerful. Strong enough that there was only a single wizard alive that he actually feared. We also know his dogma; magical human superiority, seeing everything else as second-class at best. Further details I'm sure you'll learn in your history textbooks, so I won't cover much of the war, just enough for you to understand." Another sip, another complete lack of reaction, serious amber eyes gazing at the nervous child.

"Voldemort was a monster of the highest order, a threat to the entirety of the world, Magic and Muggle. To put this in perspective, the wizards have four levels of military. You have the Aurors, which are the equivalent to both the muggle police and their detectives. It could also be compared to Muggle elite police officers, for every Auror is well trained and experienced in the hunting of what are referred to as Dark Wizards. Second are the Battle Mages; each Wizarding Country keeps a standing force of these trained and on standby for various reasons. War amongst magical nations is rare, but there are other threats that need to be dealt with. Understanding so far?" Hadrian nodded.

"Aurors are Police, from basic to elite. Battle Mages are army." A returning nod was his response.

"After that are War Mages; a small elite group that each nation maintains in case something truly terrible breaks out in their nation. They also operate across nation borders, because when they are deployed in force it is because there is a major threat. Despite that, they are kept busy across a number of duties, only coming together when problems become insurmountable. Finally, there is a fourth group, found only in Britain, called the Sorcerers. This is a group of ten individuals who are so far beyond the norm of even the War Mages that their skill with and knowledge of magic is acknowledged and respected the world over. Ten people who are renowned as the best of the best. The muggles do not have an equivalent; their special forces are matched by the ranks inside the Battle Mages, their multi-national task forces surpassed by the War Mages. The Sorcerers stand alone." Amber eyes burned that certainty into the black-haired child, making sure he understood.

"Any one of those ten individuals could take on anywhere from 3 to 10 War Mages at once. A single War Mage is, on average, worth 4 of the best Battle Mages, and one Battle Mage is worth five Aurors on average." It was starting to sink in just how far above the rest the Sorcerers stood, and the hammer that was the next statement struck with full force.

"Voldemort slew each and every one of Britain's Sorcerers in single combat, an unheard-of feat." There was no gasp from Hadrian, the child lacking the knowledge of just how powerful those individuals were, but the scale was beginning to sink in.

"Voldemort had power, knowledge, and skill the likes of which hasn't been seen in living memory. Even Gellert Grindlewald, the Wizard who was the power behind Muggle Nazi Germany…" That got a reaction, Hadrian gasping quietly in shock at the goblins grim nod.

"Indeed, Muggle World War II was caused by a Wizard. Even despite that, with all the power and fury that Grindlewald could bring to bear, Voldemort is known to be stronger than Grindlewald. Seeing as Rubeus Hagrid introduced you to our world, I trust you have been informed as to the "greatest wizard in the world", Albus Dumbledore?" A confused nod was the goblins response.

"That man is the fool that I referenced earlier, but more on that later. Suffice to say, there is indeed truth to that moniker. Albus Dumbledore singlehandedly defeated Gellert Grindlewald, and is the only man that Voldemort feared. The fear was earned as well, for Dumbledore and Voldemort met on the battlefield no less than 7 times that we Goblins are aware of, and each time it was Voldemort who was forced to retreat, no matter the scenario." That gave another reaction, widening eyes and parted lips showing Hadrian's shock. A second grim nod came from Ragnok.

"I do not like Albus Dumbledore, nor do my people. He is an old fool who believes he knows what is best for the world, with far too much power for any one man. Despite that, even the greatest of his detractors cannot deny his power, nor his willingness to do what is necessary. Dumbledore was the sole force standing between Voldemort and the destruction of the world as we know it. Nothing was safe or sacred; Centaurs were murdered by him. Mermaids and Mermen, Dragons, Dwarves, Goblins…even House Elves and Unicorns were seen as naught but fodder for that monster. He was a threat on a worldwide scale the likes of which we have never seen, for his movement and his fingers dipped deep into every powerful magical nation. It was only the fact that Britain stood free that stopped him from conquering the world, and even that simple fact held true solely to Dumbledore." Another sip of tea.

"Let me make this clear Mr. Potter; with the sole exception of Dumbledore, nobody lived once Voldemort decided to kill them. Your Great Grandfather was one of the Sorcerers, a Fleamont Potter, slain at Voldemort's hand alongside his wife. The masterful duelist Eliwood Weasley, a man who had been integral in taking down Grindlewald's officers, beaten with ease. Countless families murdered in their entireties, countless muggles executed like the animals Voldemort believed them to be. It is no exaggeration when I say that this man held the burning world in the palm of his hand." That statement had Hadrian looking for some bit of humor, hoping that the Goblin was overstating it. There was none.

"Then, for some reason, he stopped advancing. Just a few months before you were born all assault in Britain stopped. Why, we can only guess, but the man started hunting for something in particular. Britain held its breath, the feeling of an axe about to drop upon its bared neck running rampant, even amongst the Goblins. It is…it is not a pleasant feeling." The goblin drained his cup, the pot floating over to refill it. A slight shudder racked Ragnok's frame, something that Hadrian only barely caught, each moment leaving him with more knowledge of just how terrible Voldemort truly was.

"It has come out, in the years since, that he was hunting for you. Why, again, we can only guess. Suffice it to say that he eventually found you, on Halloween night ten years ago. You were just over a year old, helpless, and from all perspectives you were about to be murdered. No-one would have known until after the deed was done, just like with everybody else." Horror filled Hadrian as the events suddenly struck much closer to home. This was why he'd been stuck with the Dursley's!

"He broke the protections on your home, walking in like he owned it. He slew your father, murdered your mother, and turned his wand on you. No one knows just what happened; what we do know is this. He cast a spell, an unblockable, unstoppable spell, one so horrible that the mere use of it sees the caster being thrown into jail for the rest of their lives with no way out." A shudder wracked the child's frame, a flash of green light and high-pitched laughter storming through his mind. The words left his lips unbidden, causing a dark frown to cross the Goblin's mouth.

"Avada Kedavra."

"The Killing Curse, yes Mr. Potter. Named such because it does exactly that; anything it touches, be it a full body contact or even the slightest graze across a stay finger, will kill that being instantly. It is immediate, painless, and strikes the soul from the body in an instant, leaving no trace that muggles can detect. He cast this spell at you…and somehow, someway, you denied it." Another draining of his cup, another slight shudder from the goblin.

"Understand Mr. Potter; there are three absolutes in the world. Magic is alive. There are forces at work in this universe far greater than we can register. And finally, the Killing Curse kills who it touches. Those three absolutes have been proven countless times throughout history. No ritual, no spell, no enchantment can change that…until you. You survived a rule of the universe Mr. Potter, your life standing testament to an absolute that is no longer absolute. And in doing so you saved the world. All beings owe their lives to you, in a way that no other can claim. And that, Mr. Potter, is why you are famous, and what brings us here today." Ragnok gave the child a few moments to absorb that information before continuing. When vivid green eyes looked back up to him, much sadder than before, but accepting, he continued.

"Now, as murky as our information is about that night, it is even worse in regards to the events afterwards. The wills of your parents were executed, but not a single one of the guardians on the list could accept custody of you, for one reason or another. As a result, Albus Dumbledore wound up being appointed as your Magical Guardian; the man refused to allow any potential followers of Voldemort access to you, a decision the world agreed with. What the Goblins, at least, do not agree with is what he did with you.

It took us a number of years to bother with tracking you down, truth be told. While we owe you a great deal, and indeed, we have projects in motion to repay that debt, to the best of our knowledge you were being well taken care of by a Magical family. It was not until a month before your eleventh birthday, today, when a letter we sent never reached you, that we began to look into your situation." Hadrian froze, the same flush of embarrassment rising even as his stomach tied itself into knots. The same grim nod as before was his only response, Ragnok's lips twisting into an angry grimace.

"It took us some time to work through everything that Dumbledore had done to hide you. More time to be able to work through the wards to see the truth of the matter." Ragnok's head bowed for the second time today, shame clear upon his features.

"We owe you a debt beyond any we have ever owed anyone before, Mr. Potter. We have failed you. On behalf of the entirety of the Goblin Nation, I beg your forgiveness for what has occurred. The fact that you were starved, beaten, and forced to live in a cupboard fit for slaves is a mark on the honor of my entire nation." Hadrian was quick to protest, panic in his voice.

"No, no, it's fine. Nobody knew about it." Ragnok looked up, pain in those amber eyes.

"But you tried to tell people, Mr. Potter." Hadrian blanched again, recalling the few times he had tried to bring it to the attention of other adults…who had never done anything.

"It is most assuredly not fine, and I give you my personal guarantee that you shall never have to step foot anywhere near No. 4 Private Drive, or the Dursleys, unless you at some point in the future decide to bring vengeance upon them." Hadrian leaned forward, leaving the ludicrously comfortable embrace of the chair for the first time in hope.

"I won't?" A solemn nod was his only response, causing the boy's lips to stretch into a smile so wide it hurt. He sagged back into the chair, not even fighting the moan that the comforting enchantments brought. After a moment Hadrian clawed his way back to the real world, eyes landing on Ragnok with burning anticipation and burning eyes.

"How?" With that simple question Ragnok grinned again; this time the dark, sinister nature didn't worry Hadrian at all.

"Simple enough; you must merely take up the Lordship of the Potter Family." He once more raised a single finger before Hadrian could speak.

"Seeing as Mr. Hagrid was the one to introduce you to our world, I shall go over that particular bit of information quickly. Once again, this is merely a summary, admittedly for more reasons than just time constraints.

The Wizarding part of the Magical World is ancient Mr. Potter, and like in the muggle one there are some families that have been around for a very long time. To make a long story short, your family is one of them. Like with the Muggle world, with age comes both wealth and privilege, so long as one's ancestors were wise. Your ancestors were wise indeed, for while I do not know the full balance in your family vault, I do know that your trust vault holds 10,000 galleons, 5,000 sickles, and 5,000 knuts, and it is refilled on your birthday every year." At the blank face that Hadrian was giving, Ragnok flipped open the folder, flicking through the pages for a moment.

"To put that in perspective, at the current exchange rate you would have 100,000 pounds." That same sinister smile at Hadrian's shock, before he dropped the next bomb.

"And that, Mr. Potter, is in simply galleons. You would have another 110 pounds for the knuts, followed by 2,900 for the sickles." The child nodded slowly, trying and failing to figure out what the conversion rate was. Sensing that Ragnok spoke.

"Worry not young one; there are 26 knuts to the sickle, and 17 sickles to the galleon. The reason for the odd rates is the fact that the knuts are made of bronze, the sickles of silver, and the galleons of gold. They have remained at this rate since the system was established, for unlike the muggle banking system, the magical one goes off of how magically powerful the material is." Ragnok closed the folder, leaning forward, amber eyes burning into the child.

"Understand Mr. Potter; this is your trust vault. This is the vault that is meant to last you until the day one of three things happens. First, you turn 17, the wizarding coming of age. Second, Magic declares you of age. Or third, you are emancipated by law and take up your lordship early. For the record, it is the third that we are going to accomplish today. This is the amount your parents set up, before they even knew you would become the Boy-Who-Lived, to be spent every year until you turned 17." Hadrian blinked; that…that seemed a bit excessive. Over 100,000 pounds a year? Vernon didn't even make that much. Ragnok continued speaking even as Hadrian absorbed that particular detail.

"Anyways, just your trust vault launches you into the wealthier members of society. 10,000 galleons a year is a fair bit above the average ministry salary, and to top that off you have no expenses. But your trust vault is nothing but a drop in the pond compared to your family vault, that much I am certain. Especially when one pauses to consider the fact that as a trust vault your family was willing to allow you to spend over 100,000 pounds each year for potentially 17 years." Hadrian relaxed into his chair, the fact that he most likely wouldn't ever have to worry about money sinking in. A small smile tugged at his lips as Ragnok let it sink in. After a minute he continued.

"Now, onto the actual business of fulfilling my promise." The folder was flipped open again, Ragnok pulling out a small stack of strange, dark paper.

"This is the parchmentwork for your emancipation, Mr. Potter. To once again condense a lot of stuff into a very brief period, this covers all the legalities involved. It allows the goblins to do the work for you, ensures that you are able to take care of yourself, and with the aid we are giving you, shall be both unpreventable and unretractable. For all intents, purposes, legalities, and in the eyes of the magic itself, when this parchment is filed you will be of age, something that cannot be taken away." Hadrian's smile returned, hope building within those green eyes. Not the most friendly beasts? The Goblins were treating him better than Hagrid had! Who cared if every time Ragnok smiled Hadrian felt like the goblin was going to attack him? Ragnok was explaining things, limited only by time and the fact that this was an entirely new world for Hadrian himself! And in less than an hour in this bank he wasn't going to have to go back to the Dursley's ever again.

The young child found himself trusting the goblins; why wouldn't he? How couldn't he? This one had treated him better than any human ever had, even counting the kindness Hagrid had showed him. And the fact that Ragnok had been calling Dumbledore a fool so often…something else was going on. It was an entirely new world, a wonderful one…and possibly a terrible one. He didn't know yet, but just this morning, despite the mobbing, it was so much better than the "muggle" one that there was no comparison. And Ragnok, if no one else, was on his side. That…that was a nice feeling.

"What do I need to do?" That same smile, sinister and still sending shivers down the boys spine. Ragnok spoke, one of his hands pulling out a fine, yet strangely ominous black quill. That threw Hadrian for a moment, but he shook it off and focused on the goblin ruler.

"The most important thing, Mr. Potter, for in many cases the quill is truly stronger than the wand. You need to sign several places in the collection. This quill is…unique, to say the least. It is known as a Blood Quill." Hadrian could hear the emphasis the goblin put on it.

"It does exactly what the name implies; it writes with the blood of the writer. It is a Class IV Dark Artifact due to this, and the sheer number of things that can be done with the blood of a magic user. In this particular case, the Blood Quill is legal only in the court of law, at treaty signings, and in Gringotts due to our own nature. I warn you now, Mr. Potter. Utilizing a blood quill for extended periods of time is dangerous, both due to blood loss as well as the fact that writing with it too much will carve the very words you are writing into your body." The gasp of horror had the goblin nodding grimly.

"You will not have to worry about that today; you won't be writing anywhere near enough for either of those issues to happen. But with all that my nation owes you, and the way we have failed you, I have no desire for you to go into anything blind. The writing will still sting though; there is nothing I can do for that without breaking the magic of the quill. It was designed that way to ensure no one ever used the quill lightly." That, despite how much it scared him, set him even further at ease. There was no need to tell him that, but Ragnok had anyways. The child forced himself away from the chair, only for Ragnok to chuckle and speak again.

"Relax, Mr. Potter. Much like the tea and crumpets, the parchmentwork and quill will levitate over to you on a lap-table." And just like that the boy's will to resist the comforting embrace of the chair crumbled, flopping back onto it with a pleased sigh even as a tap on the goblin's desk had said table appearing, the creature putting everything on it before it all floated over and sat down on Hadrian's lap, the legs resting on either side of his legs. Magic was amazing.

Hadrian picked up the quill, eyes scanning the strange type of paper Ragnok was calling parchment to find the places he had to sign. With a wide smile on his face Hadrian set about signing his name, only a slight wince crossing his face as the magic dug into his hand. Ragnok nodded approvingly as the child did so, sipping at his still hot cup of tea. It took some time, but with a flash of light that startled Hadrian the parchment sealed the magic, and with a snap of Ragnok's fingers the table floated up and back to his desk. Putting the parchment on a certain part of his desk, he tapped one of the strange symbols and it vanished with a smaller flash of light, and a small ring appeared in the same place. A frown crossed Ragnok's face, distaste coloring his being now.

"Apologies Mr. Potter, but I am unable to actually touch this ring. Truthfully it wasn't even my magic that got it here. This is the Potter Lord's Ring, something that your ancestors enchanted heavily. It is truly a masterpiece of enchanting, that much I can admit, but it is entirely untouchable by goblin hands. So you will need to get out of the chair to put it on." A frown on his face, Hadrian forced himself up, not really liking the sound of what he had just been told. Gringotts was a bank, and clearly had a fair bit to do with law as well. If his ancestors had trusted the goblins with their gold…why not this?

He shook it off, standing up on legs that had relaxed a bit too much, and Ragnok chuckled as Hadrian swayed in place and clutched onto the armchair for a moment. After stabilizing himself, he looked at the ring.

Something about it grabbed his attention the second he looked at it properly; the golden ring glittering in the light. A ruby was set in the center, one diamond set on either side, and it compelled him to put in on. His fingers grabbed it, warmth and welcoming surging through him. Green eyes shut, pink lips parting in a startled gasp, hands moving to slide the ring onto his right ring finger. A new moan left his lips as the feelings raged through him far more intensely, delight and ecstasy burning through his very veins. It didn't last long, but when it ended Hadrian's eyes opened once more, glowing with the power of Family Magic. It dissipated quickly, the untrained child having no knowledge of anything about it, but the feeling remained, and it left the child feeling more than happy.

He slumped bonelessly back into the chair, snuggling back into it, riding high on magic and comfort. One hand grabbed up the tea cup still floating at the perfect height, green eyes lighting up in further delight as it was still at the perfect temperature to drink, the surge of warmth and comfort serving to relax him further, eyes closing in satisfaction. Ragnok chose that moment to speak up, that smile still on his features.

"And may I be the first to congratulate you on ascending to your Lordship, Lord Potter. And now that that has been dealt with, it is time to move on to the next subject." Hadrian's eyes slowly opened once more, glazed slightly from the multitude of pleasures of the day, gazing at Ragnok once more. With a nod the goblin continued.

"Now that you are the Head of your Family, you can accept the gifts that we goblins were planning to give you when you came of age." There the goblin winced, shaking his head and his voice taking on a tone of regret.

"Unfortunately, due to the fact that we had intended to present it to you at the age of 17, alongside the fact that we only found out that you would require it all this early a month ago, the home we are making for you won't be finished until very late tonight. Due to this, I have sent one of the wizards under our employ to arrange for you to have the finest room at the Leaky Cauldron. It would have been at the significantly better Nights Rest, but that hotel is booked solid and without your Lordship claimed previously we did not have the leverage to kick out the wizards there." Hadrian's eyes widened in shock, just enough of the contentment leaving him to protest.

"It's fine! Really…anything's better than the cupboard…" The last part was said quietly, but sincerely, causing Ragnok to nod as gently as the intimidating creature could. The goblin continued after a second to let the child compose himself once more.

"As I was saying, we are in the process of finishing up the warding of your new home here in Diagon Alley. As I mentioned earlier, your family was quite wise in obtaining gold and land, and I know you have properties around the world. Unfortunately, as I also mentioned, the goblins cannot access that, and we had no idea how…suitable they would be for you. As such, we obtained an apartment in Diagon and have been…renovating it. That is putting it lightly, to say the least, but you will experience that tomorrow. The Wards are nearly ready…wards are, to make a long and complicated explanation simple, magical walls that stop anything not approved by you from getting in. To say the least, your apartment shall be nearly impenetrable." Then the goblin grinned once more, making a motion with his hand.

"The second, and truthfully primary portion of your gift from us is very much ready, however. You are…quite a bit younger than we had anticipated, but I am told that that just means you will enjoy it all the more." Hadrian looked at him, confused, before two hands landed on his head and two landed on his chest. Turned against his will as soft, warm flesh sat next to him, he was made to look into the warm brown eyes of a woman more beautiful than any he'd ever seen before crimson red lips landed on his and he couldn't think anymore.

Hadrian lost all sense of time as the owner of those lips kissed him, flavors he couldn't describe but were so very wonderful cascading across his taste buds as her breath watched over him, the two hands on his chest gently rubbing in the background of his mind. Light and heat took up his being as the woman kept kissing him, moans swallowed by the woman. His lungs soon began to burn, soft lips leaving his just long enough for him to gasp in a breath before they were pressed back to him, lightly massaging hands keeping him even further in the land of pleasure. Hadrian didn't even realize he was being moved, lifted up just enough for soft thighs to slipped beneath him and soft chests to be pressed to him. The woman finally broke the kiss, words in the sweetest voice he'd ever had the privilege of hearing speaking up.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you Master." Black hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and those red lips was all he had time to see before the hands on his chest ran up to his head, turning it to his right. Blue eyes and black hair with the same ruby lips caught his eyes before they pressed to his, greedily kissing him silly once more. The first woman's head dipped down, lips finding his neck and kissing eagerly, his moans once again being swallowed by an eager woman. The kiss continued, highly experienced and eager lips moving against a child who'd never felt anything like this, overwhelming him entirely. Ragnok leaned back in his own chair, a dark smile on his face as he watched the young Lord be utterly overwhelmed. A snap of his long, bony fingers had the two women stepping it up even further, hands slipping downwards and then back up that oversized shirt the child was wearing.

A shocked moan and widened eyes were Hadrian's reactions as fingernails lightly scraped at his ribs and fingers started to play with his nipples. His body tensed, panic swelling in him as his body reacted in ways he'd never experienced, but the woman stepped up her kisses as well, greedily stealing his breath and forcing him to relax back into their bodies.

It took ten minutes; ten minutes of pleasure beyond anything Hadrian had ever experienced, shaking and shuddering and moaning beneath the talented ministrations of the two women before the blackette stopped kissing him, before the brown-eyed woman stopped sucking and nibbling on his neck, before those hands stopped molesting him, simply resting beneath his overly large shirt. Panting, sweating, and shaking, Hadrian was left unable to do anything as the woman pulled back and rested her forehead against his, glazed eyes staring at those unbelievably happy blue orbs.

"Mmmh, Master…I'm so happy to finally meet you." With that the two woman cuddled him, pressing their bodies tightly to him, his head flopping back onto the chair even as their sizable chests were pressed to it. Ragnok chose that moment to speak up, amber eyes gleaming as they rested on the smile that even now couldn't be removed from the puddle of a child the young lord had become.

"I trust you did, in fact, enjoy it?" A moan was the goblin's only answer, a chuckle leaving the creature's lips. Hadrian's mind was gone.

"Good; if the wizards we employ had led us wrong I would have been most upset. Regardless, these two women are yours now; body, mind, and soul. They are servants that we provide to certain individuals of all races, trained for years to be the absolute perfect servants. Normally those individuals can only get one…originally I had planned for you to have four." Hadrian couldn't protest, still far too lost in remaining pleasure to manage even thinking straight as the Goblin continued.

"Unfortunately, four servants wound up being difficult to arrange on short notice. As I mentioned, they are trained for years; those two are just over 17. To make up for this, after you turn 17, I shall provide the other four as well." Hadrian groaned as Ragnok made a slight gesture, the two-woman pressing even closer to him.

"The woman on your left is named Musubi, the one on your right is Hana. They are Japanese Veela, a magical race of hybrids who are unnaturally beautiful. Due to our training you will also find them to be the perfect servants for you. Give them a few hours and they will be able to anticipate your every desire, every want, and every need. If you have any issues with them please inform me at once so that it can be resolved…but I highly doubt you will have any issues." The two woman took that chance to swoop down, a pair of lips at each ear, breath tickling him even as they pressed adoring kisses to the shell of his ears, shocks of pleasure surging outwards from each kiss.

"We look forward to taking care of you, Master." Another shiver ran down his body, the child unable to muster up the will to manage anything. Ragnok decided to move on, knowing that the next thing had to be dealt with.

"Now Lord Potter, we have three more things to deal with. Your Fame, restoring your body, and discussing those who are trying to make use of you. Do you have a preference as to which one goes first?" The two women leaned over, lips mussing up his hair as kisses were planted on his head repeatedly, the two servants quite contentedly keeping their little Master in bliss. He managed to force enough awareness to be concerned about the final point and the second point.

"The last mmmh….last one…" Caught by surprise in the middle by the women pressing even closer to him and his head being surrounded by the large breasts of his servants. A blush raged through him, unable to comprehend what was going on even as he continued to be kissed and massaged, the puddle of child description being far to accurate.

"Very well. Musubi, Hana, leave off for the moment, he needs to be able to hear this and understand it." Immediate obedience, Hadrian able to breathe again as the breasts were pulled away from his face, lips leaving his head, hands slipping out of his shirt to instead just wrap him in adoring hugs. Warmth and comfort surged through him again, even as the blush stayed on his face. He did his best to pay attention no matter how out of his depth he was…and no matter how much he was loving the fact that he had "servants" now. He wondered if they obeyed him as easily as they did Ragnok…

"I told you about Albus Dumbledore earlier, how is the most powerful wizard in the world, and how he was the one who decided to place you with the Dursley's. Whether he was aware of what was done to you, I do not know…" Amber eyes turned grim, a frown making his features look even more unfriendly than normal.

"But I, personally, have no doubt that a wizard of his power and experience would have kept a very close eye on you as you grew. Which means that, for whatever reason, he wants you completely blind to the magical world…and owing him for rescuing you." Hadrian frowned, wondering what that meant.

"For starters, there were hundreds, if not thousands of magical families around the world that would have taken you in and raised you properly, with love and full knowledge of your station and your place. Instead he placed you with an abusive muggle family that absolutely despised you. He insured that you were kept ignorant of your family, of your history, and of your fame. And instead of bothering to come himself and explain it all, he sends his patsy, Rubeus Hagrid." Hadrian wanted to protest, opening his mouth, but he was cut off by Ragnok, who had no patience for the giant man.

"Rubeus Hagrid is a "good" man, certainly. He is honest to a fault, friendly to one and all, even us goblins. Despite this, due to the fact that Dumbledore gave him a job after he was one of three students expelled from Hogwarts in the past century, he is blindly loyal to Albus Dumbledore, to the extent that he will hear no word against Dumbledore. Added on to this is the fact that the man is an incredibly simple soul who is obsessed with carrying out orders given to him by Dumbledore…well, you get a man who is friendly, simple, and completely useless when it comes to explaining anything of importance." Even if Hadrian had wanted to protest any further that would have shut him up. He'd thought several times that exact thing, and he'd known the man for less than a full day. So he just listened quietly as Ragnok continued to hammer the point home.

"To top that off, I have no doubt that Hagrid has been given orders to hurry along your day, rushing you through your shopping, paying for everything and rendered completely unable to satisfy your curiosity about the new world you've been thrust into…before shoving you back at the Dursley's, despite what he's already seen." Hadrian flinched back, the two servants instantly cuddling him tighter. He soon relaxed into the adoring embrace, snuggling back against the warm and willing bodies despite the flush it brought to his frame. How tightly they were pressed to him would have hurt normally, but today it was just providing comfort even through the slight pain.

"Do…do you really think so?" He didn't want to believe it; Hagrid had been so nice to him, feeding him and introducing him to this world. He'd also thrown him off the deep end in the Leaky Cauldron without even trying to stop him from being mobbed…or warning him. The man could have just warned him…even that would have meant a lot. Ragnok sighs, shaking his head.

"Bear in mind Lord Potter; Mr. Hagrid is not a bad person. He's just an overly loyal idiot. You don't have to take my word for it; next time you see him, just ask him what he had planned for you after you were done shopping. Just based off of what I know of him, that is exactly what he will do, because that is likely what Dumbledore told him to." Hadrian's eyes close, savoring the feeling of being held. He doesn't see the movement Ragnok makes that causes his new servants to return to lavishing attention on him, his head being pressed atwixt their breasts once more, lips pressing to his head again. He moaned lightly as his two servants lavished attention on him, soft and warm flesh pressed tightly against him through whatever fine fabric covered them. They moved against him gently, the child breathing in the scent of something he couldn't recognize, but something that smelled amazing regardless even as he was once again pleasured into a puddle.

"Now, while I very much wish that I had time to spend the entire day educating you, I have a lot to do, and you have an entire world to experience. So I shall cover the second point I made earlier, then we shall cover your fame, and then I will let you go." Hadrian could barely hear the creature, but he managed to speak.

"Umm…girls…can you stop?" Freezing in place both women stopped before they instantly moved back to the way they were while Ragnok had been talking, causing the boy to finally be able to gasp in breath, his eyes lingering on the breasts that had been surrounding him. Ragnok nodded with the sinister smile again before continuing.

"Good; your servants are there for you Lord Potter. It doesn't matter what you want, they will do it eagerly and with skill. Never be afraid to order them to satisfy your desires, whether that is having them all over you or simply leaving you alone. Now, onto a more…troubling point. Your body is suffering from major malnutrition, a complete lack of vaccines, and unhealed wounds." Hadrian flinched, and after a moment nodded in agreement. He could easily remember a long lecture on the values of vaccines in early school years…and malnutrition, well, if he guessed it right…he'd been starved for years, so it made sense.

"Now, bear in mind, we can fix this, although it will take a while." The goblin tapped a symbol before reaching into his desk, pulling out a flagon, made of metal, with gold filigree and dark purple gems set within it. Emanating an aura even worse than the blood quill, just looking at it sent shivers down Hadrian's spine, something that had his servants cuddling back into him all the tighter. Was this another dark artifact?

"Do not worry Lord Potter; there is nothing dark about this flagon, or the liquid inside it. It is simply a goblin creation, and our magic and bodies seem to disturb you humans." That relaxed him once more, slumping back into the chair and his servants. That much was very true; from the moment he walked into Gringotts in fact, and even now, despite knowing how nice he was…Ragnok's smile made him afraid.

"This is a special potion, made at a great cost when it comes to ingredients. It has a lot of effects, but in your case, it will fix all of the many problems caused by the Dursley's. Malnutrition will be healed, old injuries cured, and your immune system kicked into gear. In exchange, it will cost you two years, perhaps a little more or little less, and a lot of food." That one had Hadrian looking up, confused.

"The potion will change a lot of your body Lord Potter; it will need the fuel to do so. You will probably eat twice the amount of a normal child your age for the time period it works within, hence it costing you two years. Worry not; it will not strip years from your lifespan, we are not Wizards." Hadrian nodded slowly; that much made sense at least. He'd spent a long time starving…even with magic it made sense that it would take time to fix it. Two years wasn't all that bad in comparison.

He chose to ignore the lifespan comment.

The flagon floated over, the dark aura growing stronger even as the servant on his left grabbed it, popping the heavily marked cork from it, looking down at him for approval. He couldn't help the shudder as the cork left it though; the aura went from merely dark to the single most evil thing he'd ever felt, and before today he hadn't even known what evil felt like. He did now, and it was something he would have much preferred to remain ignorant of.

"You are going to need to drink every drop Lord Potter, and about half way through you aren't going to want to. It's going to start off tasting better than anything you ever have and wind up tasting worse than anything you ever have due to the inherent magic within it." That…made no sense whatsoever, but it was magic, so he didn't really expect it to make sense to him.

The woman on his right grabbed hold of his head again, tilting it back even as the one on the left raised the flagon to his lips. Hadrian chose to trust the goblin; Ragnok hadn't done anything to hurt him. He opened his mouth, the flagon tipping down, brown and blue eyes locked onto green as he drank deep of the potion.

The moment it hit his lips tears came to his eyes, joy and happiness and flavors exploding onto his tongue like nothing he'd ever experienced, instantly understanding what Ragnok had meant. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he swallowed the liquid as quickly as he could, mouthful after mouthful pouring into his mouth almost faster than he could keep up with. More than he could ever describe, more than a hundred people could ever taste in their lives. More potential than could ever be understood, more taste than could ever manage to understand. He swallowed desperately, eagerly, needing it like nothing he'd ever needed before. It was bliss and wonder and beauty and perfect.

And then it soured.

He wanted to stop as bile began to pour into his mouth, the taste going from the most wonderful thing possible to the worst quicker than he'd thought possible. In the time between one mouthful and the next it tasted so many times worse it wasn't even a comparison, the texture going from smoother than anything to feeling like vomit pouring into his mouth, and tasting even worse. He wanted to throw it back up, wanted to reject it, but with nothing more than a murmured apology his servants didn't let him. Forced to swallow or drown, Hadrian swallowed, the taste only getting worse. The flagon tipped further and further, the taste growing so terrible that, just like with the wonder, Hadrian had no words for it. Tears streamed down his cheeks for an entirely different reason now, disgust marring his face as the single most horrible taste he'd ever experienced only got worse with each passing second. He started to struggle, body spasming against the much larger and stronger women, unable to even move his head. Apologies were whispered in his ear, the loving voice of the blue-eyed servant telling him that he needed to finish it.

He lost track of it, forced to drink until it was dry, until finally only a few drops fell into his mouth, rancid and vile, the flagon withdrawn quickly. He went to spit it out on instinct even as a soft, warm hand covered his mouth, the soft voice of his servant the only nice thing he could make out around the taste.

"I'm sorry Master, but you need to finish it. Swallow for us, please Master." With his mouth covered and wanting nothing more than to get rid of the taste, he swallowed reluctantly, the last couple drops vanishing. The second he did so the hand was removed and the tea cup presented to him, allowing the warm and sweet tones of the liquid to wash away the aftertaste of the potion. He drained the cup dry, incredibly happy that the potion's aftertaste dissipated quickly. Lips pressed to his the moment the cup left them, green eyes widening in shock as he was once again kissed into relaxation. The unidentifiable happiness of her lips tasted so much better than the memory of the potion, and those red-rimmed green eyes closed quickly beneath the pleasure. When his lungs began to burn she pulled back, long and wide tongue pressed to his cheek as she licked up the tear track, his body shivering at the odd feeling.

He was once again cuddled into the chair, and this time he didn't even try to crawl back into sensibility. After that potion he wanted nothing more than to savor the feeling of being loved that being held like this gave him, but Ragnok's voice cut through.

"As much as I would like to give you time to recover from that, I'm afraid I can't. I do apologize again for the taste, but rest assured, it was necessary. Now, there is only one thing left to do Lord Potter." Hadrian whined as the two women let him go, sliding out from beneath him and from around him, leaving the child bereft of warmth and comfort no matter how wonderful the chair was.

"We'll go ahead and wait for you at your room at the Leaky Cauldron, Master. We cannot travel with you to your vault." Another wordless whine left his lips before he managed to return to reality, blinking blearily as he managed to make out what they said. He turned to Ragnok again, reluctantly, wondering what was going to happen now as the two women left the office before he could even truly look at them.

It was odd; they'd hugged him, kissed him, cuddled him…they claimed to belong to him, to be his, to be here to serve them, and Ragnok had been the one to initiate it. Despite that all he knew was that they were the most beautiful women he'd ever seen, had done things to him he'd never experienced, they both had long black hair (though how long exactly he didn't know), one had brown eyes and the other blue, and finally…he very much wanted more. More of all of it. Wanted to actually take the time to examine, see what they looked like…more kisses and cuddles and hearing them speak. He forced his mind away from it; he could learn about them later. Guilt flared up within him as he realized he couldn't even remember their names…and then shock as he realized that they were servants. What was wrong with him, that he was so eagerly accepting the idea of having servants, when before today he had been no better than a slave? He forced it away, returning his mind to what Ragnok had said.

"What's left…you said…dealing with my fame, right?" Hadrian said, physically shaking his head a little bit in an attempt to clear it of both the fog the women had left and his rampaging guilt. Ragnok nodded, face falling back into the average face of disapproving, even if Hadrian had already learned that that wasn't what the goblin was thinking.

"Indeed. While we goblins are…limited, in what we can manage within Britain, we were more than able to ensure that all of the gifts, fan mail, bequeaths, and donations towards you all wound up in one vault, which I highly recommend you visit first. In addition to a significant amount of gold, there are also a number of gifts I'm sure you'd enjoy, and a lot of vouchers for various stores in Diagon Alley, as well as other major stores throughout the world. Something that I highly doubt Mr. Hagrid would be willing to inform you of if I hadn't arranged for you to come here." Hadrian slowly nodded; he didn't want to believe that Hagrid was like that, but he'd find out after visiting the vault.

Ragnok stood suddenly, a tap on a symbol causing the cup and saucer to float back over to the tray still on the goblin's desk, the creature speaking once more.

"Now, I don't have too much time left I'm afraid, but I can escort you to your Fame Vault and provide some guidance as to how it's organized." Hadrian rose, quietly walking behind the goblin leader, wondering what new thing was going to happen now. A Fame Vault…he really didn't feel like he deserved it.

He was Hadrian…just Hadrian! If he was so special why had nobody cared about him when he was at the Dursleys? All of this about "Voldemort" and the fact that he was a world-wide threat…how was that even possible? How could one man threaten the entire world? And, even worse…how could he have stopped that very same man? For as wonderful as this all was, and how strange it all was…it had to be a dream. There was no way Hadrian could have Servants…but the mindless bliss of being kissed firmly proved that he did.

Head down with eyes towards the floor, Hadrian didn't see much of what he passed through, simply the bronze and scarlet motifs carved into the marble floor he walked on, still focused on the ridiculousness of this. It could only be a dream; there was no other possible explanation.

Green eyes hardened; this may be a dream, but he was going to enjoy it for all it was worth. Maybe if he was lucky he'd make it back to the Leaky Cauldron and see his servants again…

"Right this way, Lord Potter." Hadrian finally looked up, eyes still set with determination. It didn't matter how long this dream lasted; he was going to enjoy every second of, take advantage of every moment he could. And if it gave him an opportunity to get away from the Dursley's for even longer…well, he didn't even need to hear Hagrid's answers. He'd be going with Ragnok's advice regardless.

~A Magical World~

Going down to the vaults was a blast, with a mine cart rocketing down and up and side to side in an absolutely ridiculous manner, faster than Hadrian had ever experienced moving. He wasn't sure why it existed, or why Ragnok didn't seem to enjoy it as much as he did, but he was just happy it did. Going fast, with the wind in his face and feeling like the cart was going to fly off the rails was…Hadrian didn't have words for how wonderful it was.

He was feeling that a lot recently.

The trip was not the most incredible thing, however. That honor went to what he was looking at now; Vault 819, his "Fame Vault," and it was…massive. Ragnok gave that scary smile once more, speaking up.

"Come now, Lord Potter. I did inform you that you had saved the World. Did you really think that all of the intelligent races would be ungrateful?" Hadrian tried to speak, his voice coming out in nothing more than a squeak, causing a dark-sounding chuckle to leave the goblin.

"We have made sure everything is organized, sorted each gift into it's own section, ensured that there were no enchantments that might hurt you or stop you from opening anything in here. As you can see…the world is quite grateful." That was an understatement, to say the least. The Vault was piled high with so many things; Hadrian walked in in a daze, eyes roaming around it all.

The vault was massive; #4 Private Drive could fit in it several times. A two story house was made small by an underground vault, something that sent his mind spinning…but nowhere near as much as what was in it. For as big as this vault was, it was filled nearly to the brim with so many things that it would take years to go through. Piles of gold stacked three times higher than Hadrian was tall, the same with silver and bronze coins. Precious gems, and even metal ingots, were scattered throughout in their own, smaller piles. Raw ore had their own piles, even smaller than the ones of ingots, of more metals than Hadrian even knew existed. Woods and fabrics and clothes had piles; things Hadrian didn't even have knowledge of having piles…it was ridiculous!

That all amounted to a solid half of the massive vault. The other half was occupied with stacks of wrapped gifts and one massive bookshelf full of stuff. The gifts were stacked nearly to the ceiling, no less than 30 separate piles. The bookshelf, on the other hand, was against the wall, and it did reach the ceiling. The entire left wall was taken up by it, with over 60 massive shelves of books and letters running all across the wall.

Then, at the very front of all the piles of presents and gold, was a simple table with a small pile of papers upon it, leaving Hadrian a bit confused. Ragnok, sensing that Hadrian had finally gotten over his awe, chose that moment to step forward and speak.

"This is, as I said earlier, is your Fame Vault. This is where all of the gifts from a very grateful world have been stored…alongside all of your fan-mail. To say that there are thousands of letters in this vault would be like saying there are a few hundred galleons in here. It's technically true…but a massive understatement." Hadrian blanched, wondering how in the world he was supposed to manage to read that many letters. How would he even respond?

"Now, we do have it sorted, although the table was only put in this past month. It holds the various vouchers you can redeem at the various shops for your school supplies. I doubt that Mr. Hagrid would have bothered to inform you of that option…resulting in you likely offending several very well-known members of Diagon Alley." Hadrian frowned, nodding. All Hagrid had wanted to do was get money…he hadn't said anything about using "vouchers", whether or not Hadrian thought he deserved them. Come to think of it…why was Hagrid the one with the key to his trust vault anyways?

"My personal recommendation would be to go to the trunk store early on after you leave here; according to the voucher the owner and creator of the store has been custom building a trunk just for you." Hadrian could easily see why whoever the man was would be offended if Hadrian didn't show up; spending however much time building something just for someone, and then having them not even acknowledge your existence? It would be…well, Hadrian would have been upset in his place.

Ragnok pulled out a pocket watch from the fine suit he was wearing, an absolutely terrifying frown crossing his face for a brief moment before he spoke again.

"I only have a few minutes left before an appointment that I cannot miss, unfortunately. I wasn't quite sure just when you'd show up, so I couldn't clear my schedule." Hadrian shook his head quickly, turning back to face Ragnok.

"No, no…it's fine. It's more than fine. Thank you for this…for all of it." He said quietly, Ragnok nodding simply.

"Quite alright Lord Potter. Goblins always pay their debts, and we owed you a great one that even all of this does not repay. Let me explain the organization of the vault, and I shall head off to my next meeting. As you can see, the right side of the vault is devoted to money, materials, and gems. The left side is for all of the gifts you have received, along with all of the letters and books. A word of warning; those shelves move. That means that with the command of "shift" they will swap out every book or letter currently on the shelf you are touching for another set. Alternatively, pulling one book or letter off the shelf will have it fill up with another one after you leave the vault. That does hold up no matter how many you grab. Finally, in regards to the shelves at least, they are in order by when they were sent to you. At the very bottom left, in the shelf at floor level, are the letters that started pouring in less than a week after Voldemort fell to you.

Now, the gifts are similar. The stacks closest to the entrance are the ones that came in closest to that Samhain night. The only exception is that stack there." Hadrian followed the claw to the stack closest to where Ragnok had said the oldest letters were, seeing a stack of gifts that were giving off an…aura. Ragnok spoke once more.

"That, Lord Potter, are the gifts that were so heavily enchanted that they needed to be separated. Be aware that there are still many enchanted gifts in the other stacks, but those are the ones that are masterpieces of enchanting, and I recommend you go through those, because they shall be incredible gifts. For today, however, I recommend you go ahead and take care of as much shopping as possible. As I told you earlier, your apartment will not be finished until late tonight or early tomorrow morning. There is a lot to take care of." Hadrian shrugged; he didn't have anything better to do after Hagrid was dealt with.

"As I mentioned previously, the trunk store should be first. Either a Tailor or the bookstore Flourish & Blotts should follow that, with the other following that. You need clothes appropriate to your station Lord Potter, and you have been thrown into an entirely new world. There's a lot of information you need to get caught up on." Hadrian nodded slowly, knowing that all of it made sense.

"Following up with that, I recommend a good stationary shop, because you will likely want to respond to at least a few of these letters, even if no one truly expects you to respond to all of them. After that it doesn't really matter where you go, although I highly recommend you visit the Owlery in order to get your own owl. You will need it if you wish to send letters to anyone." The goblin leader stopped speaking, closing his eyes and frowning to himself for a moment before nodding.

"I believe that is it, Lord Potter. Once again, welcome back to our world…to your world. Please, if you have any questions, I am just a letter away. Feel free to spend as much time in here as you want, there shall be a goblin with a cart waiting outside when you are ready to go…oh, right." He walked over to the entrance, taking two small leather pouches off of a peg.

"These pouches can hold a lot more than you'd expect thanks to magic. One of them will be able to hold all of those vouchers; the other you can easily put a significant stack of gold in. I believe the quantity is somewhere around 1,000 galleons, although I may be slightly off. On that note, I must go. Have a good day, Lord Potter." A bit stunned by the rapid-fire statements, Hadrian was barely able to wish the goblin well in return before he left. Hadrian was left looking around at the massive vault, a little off balance by all the stuff within it.

He stepped to the left, a bit of hesitation in his body, but hope had him walking over to one of the massive stacks of gifts, picking up a small box. He sank to his knees, opening it slowly with burning eyes. A small bit of parchment was attached to a stuffed bear, the corners of Hadrian's lips beginning to hurt as he read it.

To Harry Potter,

I'm realy sorry about your mum an da. The thought of my mum and da dying hurts a lot, but mum said you saved us all, so thanks! My names Amy, and this is Mr. Snuggles. He alwas makes me feeel better when I'm sad, so I hoope it can help you feel happy.

~Amy

Drops of water landed on the parchment before Hadrian set it down, picking up the old teddy bear. Who even knew how old it was? The child couldn't even help but hug the bear tightly; he'd never even had a stuffed animal before…not that he could remember at least. Perhaps he'd had some when his parents had been alive, but with the Dursley's the only toys he'd ever been able to get were 6 broken toy soldiers, and even then he'd had to hide them.

This little girl, whoever "Amy" was, had decided to send him her teddy bear. Not because she really understood what happened, not because she knew him…just because she wanted him to be happy. The first gift he'd gotten that he could remember…just a little girl wanting him to be happy, without a second thought. Hadrian didn't know how long he knelt there holding "Mr. Snuggles", but by the time he stood he felt a lot lighter than he ever had before, no matter his sore throat and sandy eyes.

He set the bear back down on the gifts, picking up the parchment and setting it under the bear. He would be back for it later. Instead he walked over to the table, looking at the various vouchers. As he flipped through them, he found one that made him smile.

Victoria's Salon Parlor

This voucher can be redeemed with Victoria herself for a free hair-cut and a full body massage that is guaranteed to leave you with a happy ending to your day.

There were six of them, and Hadrian would very much like to have some more happiness to this day. Perhaps he should try that first…it would take a while, he was pretty sure. He'd only ever had a single haircut that he could remember, and a week of starving afterwards when his hair had magically grown back overnight.

That thought made him giggle a bit hysterically. It had, in fact, magically grown back. From that point on, even though Vernon had looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Hadrian needed a haircut at least once a week, his Aunt had simply looked at his hair, realized it hadn't grown at all, slapped him, and sent him on his way. So while he didn't know what good a hair cut would do, a massage sounded nice. Petunia had raved about getting one when Vernon had shelled out for their anniversary one year. Raved to all the neighbors at least; Hadrian had only heard about it by chance as he was doing chores and she had been on the phone.

It was worth a shot at least; perhaps he'd try that before the Trunk Shop. He went back to flipping through the vouchers, skimming over the letters even though it made his head hurt; trunk, salon/parlor, book store, tailor, stationary, furniture, shoe shop, apothecary, astronomy shop, game shop. There was more, but that was the top tenth, all of which were in Diagon Alley according to the addresses. So he slipped them into the pouch, watching in awe as the opening swallowed the sheets without even seeming to enlarge or the sheets shrinking.

Walking over to one of the massive stacks of gold that was piled well above his head, he started picking up handfuls of golden coins and pouring them in. Not knowing how much he would need, he just piles in two dozen handfuls…something that didn't seem to put a dent in the pile at all. It made him wonder just how much money he had in this vault…and apparently his Family vault had even more. He should probably ask if there was some kind of record for them.

Hadrian finally left; he'd be back tomorrow though. That much he knew for sure. So many wonderful things…

He shook his head, leaving the vault and enjoying the ride back to the surface with the goblin named Griphook. Leaving the bank behind him with a quick request for directions, Hadrian left for "Victoria's Salon and Massage Parlor." Unfortunately, he'd forgotten about Hagrid that quickly, far more focused on all the other things that had happened since he left.

"Harry! Is everythin' alrigh'?" The sound of the giants voice made the resolution he'd made click once more, turning to face the man with a frown on his face. For all that he didn't want anything to do with him…Hagrid was still the first person to have every truly been nice to him. It was something that he couldn't look past, even with the way the goblins had acted in regards to Hagrid. They'd simply acted as though he was a fool being used by someone greater…as nice as Hagrid was, Hadrian found his desire to be nasty fading before it could even be expressed, his frown easing back into a neutral expression.

"Everything's fine Hagrid…better than fine, really. The Goblins were really nice…" He trailed off, trying to figure out how he could break it to the much larger man. He didn't want to be ushered around again like he had been before; he would like to explore, to find out about this world. Maybe that would be a good way to start?

"Good…good. I was worried." The simple statement, honest and clear, was touching.

"Alrigh'…we're a bi' be'ind schedule now, but we should be able to get to everythin' today before we 'ave ta get you home." That brought back the frown, Hadrian speaking up in return.

"Hagrid…are you intending to take me back to the Dursley's? Despite what you saw, and all the lies they've told me?" Hagrid frowned, shaking his head as the anger from the night before returned.

"I don't wan' to, but Dumbledore said it's the safes' place for you." Hadrian shook his head, sniffling a little as he realized that the goblins had been right…he wasn't sure why he'd even thought to doubt them after how honest and helpful Ragnok had been. He raised his right hand, showing the ring that even now thrummed with welcome every time his thoughts turned to it. Hagrid's eyes widened at the sight, magic itself making sure he instantly recognized what it meant once his attention had been drawn to it. Hadrian's eyes opened once more, emerald eyes glowing with power once more.

"I'm not going back there Hagrid. Never again. The Goblins made sure of it." Hagrid was left stuttering in shock as Hadrian forced himself to continue.

"They're revamping an apartment that I now own, and they showed me that people have been making things just for me." Hagrid shook his head, forcing himself past the stuttering.

"It's no' safe for you Harry. Dumbledore said you needed ta go back to tha Dursleys." Hadrian's eyes glowed with fury and magic, several goblins taking notice as they prepared to follow orders and remove the person causing the young Lord Potter distress.

"No! They're terrible people, and I'm never going back. The Goblins have emancipated me, meaning I don't have to go back unless I want to…and I never will." Hagrid's frown deepened, looking down at the furious child.

"An wha' about tha protection, Harry? Wha' happens when You-Know-Who's followers come after you?" Hadrian couldn't stop his snort.

"You say that like my relatives…" Hadrian spat the word like it was poison.

"Wouldn't have just thrown me to whoever came after me. They hate me more than I do them; you saw that for yourself." Hagrid's eyes found the floor instead of the angry child, unable to look at him. Hagrid had seen it; an obese father and son, a skinny wife devoted to them…and a child who didn't fit at all, who had been lied to from the moment he'd been old enough to question. Hagrid honestly could see them throwing the child out on the street at the first sign of trouble. The gentle giant sighed heavily, looking back up at the child, who was calming down at the sight of Hagrid's shame.

"I'm not going back. The Goblins also introduced me to my actual vaults…there are a lot of places in Diagon Alley that want to see me." Hagrid jumped on that one.

"Yeh weren't 'appy with the Leaky Cauldron Harry; do yeh really want to be swarmed everywhere yeh go?" Hadrian shook his head.

"I got swarmed by a bunch of people because you didn't even bother to warn me I was famous." Hagrid flinched.

"I'm…I'm not really the best to explain things Harry…" Hadrian practically growled.

"So that's a good reason to not even warn me? To not even bother to tell me that something might happen?" The man flinched back a bit further, Hadrian's anger growing again.

"No, Hagrid. As much as I like you, as nice as you are…I'm going to explore Diagon Alley on my own, and I will never go back to the Dursley's. I don't want to be rushed through it like you did on the way to the bank, Hagrid." Hagrid flushed in shame; Professor Dumbledore had advised him to speed Harry through Diagon Alley since it was quite likely "the poor boy won't enjoy being swarmed by people." It was actually why Hagrid had been sent; for as friendly as Hagrid was, nobody wanted to get on his bad side with how big he was. The idea had been that after the first swarm Hagrid would be able to keep the excited people away from him long enough to get their shopping done.

Despite that, Hagrid could easily see why Harry didn't want him here. After what he'd seen of the Dursley's…well, he would be bringing up quite a few things with the Headmaster when he got back to Hogwarts. Harry was short for his age, underweight…he didn't seem to be abused, but there was no real way to tell that for certain with as little as he'd seen. If he'd been in Harry's shoes he wouldn't want a stranger who'd been doing everything they could to rush thing along without explaining things…well, that had happened. It was why he still couldn't carry a wand, despite his innocence being proven long ago.

"Alrigh' Harry…alrigh'. Jus'…jus' be careful, alright? I'll be at the Leaky Cauldron for a coupla' 'ours if yeh need me." Hagrid didn't fight it, didn't try and protest; Harry had been thrown into an entirely new world, and with the Goblins clearly on his side for some reason, Harry would be fine. No doubt they'd recommended a few places for Harry to shop and explore, and if the Goblins were actually helping him, there was no way they'd allow anything to happen to the boy. It was a bit odd, really; for all the terrible things the goblins did, had done, and would continue to do, once they were on the side of wizard or witch, the magical had an army at their back the likes of which few could truly match.

Hadrian nodded, caught off guard by the fact that Hagrid gave up so easily. He watched as the giant smiled weakly at him before turning and walking away, confused. Perhaps Ragnok was right entirely; Hagrid was just a well-meaning man being used by somebody smarter. It…it actually made him feel a lot better. The guilt eased off at that; Hagrid had been nice because he wanted to be. Perhaps…perhaps he might actually still have a friend.

Forcing himself to stop thinking about it, he focused instead on the only voucher he'd left outside the pouch; the massage one. Remembering the directions a goblin had given him, Hadrian finally left the bank, a small smile returning to his face.

What was that quote…something about setting out into a much larger world? Hadrian wasn't sure; he'd barely been able to read the book it was from before the teacher had taken it away so a "delinquent" like him wouldn't damage it.

The quote, mangled as it was, stuck with him as he headed towards the parlor. It was rather accurate. For all that he'd already met the goblins, found out ridiculous things like his fame and the fact that he'd gained "servants"…this would be his first step into the much larger world that was the Magical World.

It didn't take long to reach the salon; it wasn't in the beginning of "Diagon Alley", instead on a separate road that branched off from the bank. Now that Hadrian wasn't being rushed he took a moment, noticing how Gringotts was at the center of the entire area, with five different roads that he could see from the front of the bank. From what the goblin had said there were ten all around the bank, meaning that Diagon Alley was a lot bigger than the first impression made it look.

This road, with a signpost declaring it as "Griffin Quarter", a larger road with bigger buildings than the road behind the Cauldron. Hadrian looked around, a small smile on his face as the atmosphere of the Alley washed over him once more.

To begin with it was busy and blatantly magical, astounding him with the sight of so much magic. This area, this Griffin Quarter, emitted something entirely different. The road was cleaner, finer somehow, with the buildings made of finer materials as well. What those things were, Hadrian didn't know, but he did know that it looked a lot nicer. It felt calmer, quieter, thrumming with something that he couldn't make out.

He liked it.

The building didn't take him long to find; it had a sign proclaiming what it was to all, a rather lovely looking cream-colored building with several chairs inside. It…it looked rather "muggle", but he supposed there was no real way to change cutting hair.

That opinion changed as he walked in; while he'd never been inside a salon before, Petunia had…often. She always came home smelling of strong perfumes and with hair that looked nearly the exact same as it had before she went. There was a smell to this one, but instead of the overwhelming and somewhat unpleasant odor of perfume, this was just a background fragrance of apples and cinnamon. On top of that crossing the door had him experience a sudden surge of welcome and calm, now able to see the fact that the chairs weren't actually attached to the floor. Instead, much to his shock, they were floating up and down at the proper height for the hairdressers; not a single one even had a leg to stand on, but nobody was falling.

Magic was wonderful.

"Ah, welcome to Victoria's Salon. Can I help you?" Hadrian turned to his right, seeing a young, pretty brunette sitting behind a desk. He walked over, nervous all of a sudden, holding out the voucher.

"Umm…I have a voucher for…for a free massage and haircut?" The woman smiled, taking the voucher, an eyebrow raising at the sight of it. One hand came up holding a wooden stick, a wand? Regardless, the woman tapped that on the desk, speaking as she did.

"I am sending for Victoria herself for this; go ahead and sit down over there and she will be out in just a minute." Hadrian nodded, doing exactly that.

It didn't take long for the wall behind the desk to fade away for a moment as a beautiful woman walked out, the wall reappearing behind her as if it had never disappeared. Hadrian's eyes couldn't leave her, something keeping his gaze on the woman that was almost as gorgeous as his brief glances of his servants faces. Hadrian couldn't fight it, even as the woman leaned down and saw the voucher, blue eyes flicking up to land on him before a beautiful smile graced angelic features, Hadrian's eyes tracing them almost against his will.

Long blonde hair falling in waves down to the mid-back, framing a face of pale skin and nearly alien features with their beauty. Regal and somewhat predatory movements saw the woman walking over to him, the smile never fading as one hand came up, a fine white wooden stick in her hand and weaving about for a brief moment. Hadrian felt a wave of something wash over him, the gorgeous woman gracefully sinking to her knees in front of him with that same smile, her hands coming up and gently resting on his cheeks. Her smile widened a bit as he blushed, a sultry voice leaving her lips to caress his ears.

"Mr. Potter; I'm so happy you've returned to our world. It's been so long I was beginning to worry you wouldn't be coming." A thumb, softer than anything he'd felt before today, stroked his right cheek, her other hand sliding up his left cheek to run through his hair.

"Mmh, I see I've got some wonderful material to work with darling." Hadrian shifted uncomfortably, the woman taking full advantage of it and moving closer to him, the swell of her chest pressing into his legs, blue eyes adoringly gazing up at him.

"I am Victoria, owner of this salon, but I think you already knew that, since you're here for me." The stress put on the last two words had heat searing through the entirety of his body, those eyes tracing the blush down his neck, a slender pink tongue slipping out from ruby lips to ever so elegantly lick them before her eyes returned to his.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter; why did you decide to come so early? I've only just heard that you reentered our world a few hours ago…you can't have been many places." Hadrian tried several times to speak, stuttering helplessly as Victoria's hands continued to play havoc, trailing across his hair and skin.

"Umm…I…I…I'm…I just…" Low, husky laughter left her lips, her hands very reluctantly leaving his head, sliding down his chest rapidly and finding his hands, slender and soft fingers entwining with his own as she spoke again.

"Take your time darling, I'm in no rush. You have my undivided attention." Each word was spoken slowly, lovingly, dripping from her lips like honey as her eyes continued to stare into his, hands squeezing his gently. Hadrian took a deep breath, forcing himself to ignore the blush and that burning gaze.

"I wanted to be happy…" A blink, those gorgeous blue eyes going from making him uncomfortable to confused for a brief moment, a slight gasp being inhaled in through parted lips.

"You…wanted to be happy?" Hadrian forced himself to ignore the force that demanded he look at her lips. He spoke, responding helplessly, speaking things he didn't mean to.

"I've…I've never really been…been happy before today." The smile faded, a displeased frown crossing her face, pain spearing through Hadrian's heart at the sight. Blue eyes finally left his face entirely, taking in the oversized clothes and patched trainers; the frown deepened, one hand slipping from his to press to his stomach. The frown deepened further, eyebrows creasing as she continued to notice things; the hand slipped beneath the overly large, second-hand shirt to press against his stomach, Hadrian gasping in shock as her warm hand traced his flesh. Rage began to fill her, features seeming to become even more predatory, sharpening with birdlike aspects.

"What…who have you been living with? What have they done to you?" The child smiled despite that, shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter anymore…I'm not going to live there anymore. I have an apartment in Diagon that the Goblins are getting ready for me, and they can't come anywhere near me." Victoria's fury lessened, her features becoming less hawk-like and returning to the much more gorgeous woman once again.

"I see…in that case, Mr. Potter…actually, what do you prefer to be called?" Her hand hadn't left his flesh yet, trailing up to his chest instead, making the child shiver.

"Ah…Hadrian…" The smile returned, the inhumanly beautiful woman squeezing his hand once more, leaning her body against him.

"Mmm, Ha-dri-an." His name heralded a return to words that sounded better than anything he'd heard, with the sole exception of his servants speaking. Honey once again oozed from her tongue, nails lightly scraping their way down his chest even as her thumb lightly stroked the back of his hand.

"I must admit, I love it, far more than the "Harry" everyone was calling you. Now, I am more than willing to make you as happy as I can, but now is not quite the time for it, I'm afraid." Hadrian fought the urge to flinch, able to manage it only due to the fact that he was shuddering from the way she was purring out certain words, not even slightly understanding the feelings she was bringing to the surface.

"But I'll make you a deal, darling." She rose up, hands leaving his body bereft of warmth and comfort to land on his head once more before she spoke again, looking down at him with fondness.

"Most shops in Diagon close at 8 P.M., including mine. I'm more than willing to put in extra effort for you. So, go ahead and go shopping; our entire world is your oyster, darling. I know that quite a few of the shop-owners have gifts for you. You should definitely look into getting some better clothes; I know Madam Brown was very much looking forward to making some for you." She leaned over, soft red lips planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Remember, Hadrian…8 P.M. I'll be expecting you, and it will be just you, me, and your happy ending." Hadrian flushed once more, his entire body radiating embarrassment, which made that husky laugh come out once more.

"I'll see you then, dar~ling." Hadrian shivered, needing a moment as the woman walked away, eyes drawn to her swaying hips and shaking rear by the same force that had made it so he couldn't even think around her. She looked back at him as the wall disappeared again, one blue eye closing in a wink, before she left the room.

It took the boy several moments for the blush to recede and for his mind to return to him, but when he finally managed he stood and left…looking forward to the appointment later that night more than anything else so far.

He walked out, wondering where his next stop was. One of the two pouches came out, his entire hand sinking into it before his fingers hit the end of a paper. "Trunks and Travel Needs" was the voucher he pulled out; a personal note written upon it.

"Heir Potter,

I am Ronan Lestrange, Owner of Trunks and Travel Needs. At the time of writing this it is around two months before your expected return to your home, the Wizarding World. Welcome back, Heir Potter. Welcome back.

Now, onto business. Ever since that horrible, yet wonderful night, I have been working on a gift for you. Some chose to donate money, others items; for me, as a thanks to you, I have made you a Trunk. This is my Magnum Opus; the best creation I have ever made. All I need to finish it is a drop of your blood to tie it to you, and I will be able to gift it you for your own use. I have put nearly a decade of work into this, and I truly hope that you accept this gift.

Warmest Regards,

Ronan Lestrange.

On reading that, before walking back in the salon to ask the lady at the desk where the shop was, Hadrian was off. It was back in the main alley, which as he walked onto the lane by the bank he noticed that it was called "Hydra Quarter." Hadrian couldn't stop the shudder; they'd covered that particular beast in school, during history. A many headed monster, from what he remembered…something that was terrifying to the child. He shook his head and carried on, locating the store moderately easily. There were actually two trunk stores on the lane; the second one was "School Trunks", and looking inside out of curiosity showed they were exactly what they said. Just simple, one compartment school trunks. The store lacked the blatant magic of the other places he'd been, something that stopped him from wanting to shop there.

Maybe it was bias; surely everything nice about the new world couldn't be obviously magical.

That didn't stop the boy from looking for it as he walked into Trunks and Travel Needs, a soft smile on his face as he once again walked into an entirely different atmosphere. If Hydra quarter as a whole was simply magical and Griffin Quarter held a calmer nature, this store felt like walking into a combination of them. Calm, soothing, magic, and with that simple feeling Hadrian knew he would have wanted to shop here even without the voucher.

Yeah, he was being picky. He didn't really care either.

"Welcome to Trunks and Travel Needs, what exactly are you looking for today young man?" A male voice, soothing and refined, washed over him, Hadrian turning to face it. The odd thing was that it should have startled him, but with the aura of the shop it was impossible. The old, handsome man with brown eyes and mostly black hair with gray dotted within, smiled upon seeing the child's smile, a deep chuckle leaving him.

"It's always nice to see people who can feel the magic. I think I'll give you a discount just for that." A wink of one brown eye accompanied the last sentence, Hadrian focusing on the first one more.

"Is that what it is? I've felt it in most of Diagon…" Another chuckle, the man leaning against a nearby display trunk.

"Muggleborn, eh? Yeah, what you're feeling is the magic of Diagon Alley; more specifically, you're feeling the wards. Think invisible bubbles made of magic, with "flavors" of the people within them, if that makes sense." Hadrian's eyes closed for a moment, running it through his head.

"Sooo…The main road, outside, feels like excitement and awe and home…because that's what most of the people going through it feel?" A wide smile was his answer.

"Yes and no at the same time. Making a lot of complex things you'll learn in school as simple as I can, as quickly as I can, the atmosphere of a ward is affected by three things. First, the type of ward it is. Second, intent behind the ward's creation. And finally, the people spending the most time within it. In a case like Hydra Quarter, which is what this area of Diagon Alley is called if you were curious, all three are in play. The wards are meant to welcome all Wizards and Witches within them; they were made with that in mind, and they only keep out the non-magical and hide it from them. Finally, you are correct; in the early days of Diagon people who were sensitive to magic would only feel a bit of contentment at best. As I'm sure you felt…the effect has only grown stronger with time and people." Hadrian nodded slowly before the man continued.

"Tell me child, what do you feel in here?" Hadrian's smile returned, soft and simple.

"Calm, peace, welcome, magic." Another laugh, a wider smile from the man.

"And that, child, is exactly what I wanted in my store. Time hasn't helped that feeling so much as being in close proximity to the mighty wards of Diagon. Now that the impromptu lecture is over, what kind of trunk are you looking for? I take it you want something a bit more…" Brown eyes twinkled with amusement as he continued.

"Magical, since you're here instead of at my competitor." Hadrian nodded, pulling the voucher out of one of his oversized pockets and holding out towards the man. He took one look at it, gasping in surprise, eyes flicking up to look much more closely at Hadrian.

"Mr. Potter…" The man had been welcoming before; friendly and helpful, with a willingness to explain anything to a curious child, but with the sight of Hadrian's scar and the voucher he was suddenly pale, going down to one knee with awe and shock, but with a smile that even more welcoming then before. He bowed his head, voice husky with repressed emotion.

"Welcome back. I'm sure you've heard it many times today, but welcome back. Our entire world has been waiting for you." The child couldn't stop his blush, his entire body turning hot as he shifted awkwardly. The man came back to himself, shaking his head as he stood back up, the easy grin back on his face, regaining full control over himself.

"Right, well, I'm Ronan Lestrange, Mr. Potter; it's a pleasure to meet you. Feel free to call me Ronan." Hadrian awkwardly smiled back, still not entirely sure how to deal with it all.

"Hadrian." He returned, trying to go back to the easy conversation they'd been having before his identity was revealed. Ronan seemed to sense it, his grin turning a bit rueful.

"Right, right; I'm sure you're already getting sick of everybody going all starry-eyed when they see you." Hadrian found himself relaxing again at that.

"It's…been an adjustment. Going through the Leaky Cauldron was…terrifying." That got another laugh.

"I can imagine. We've…well, we've been waiting for you to come back for ten years." A sigh left his lips as Ronan ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.

"Has…has anyone explained why you're famous yet?" The fact that the man actually thought about it touched him, Hadrian responding.

"Mostly. A really evil man was slowly conquering the world, and he tried to kill me. Nobody except Dumbledore could stop him, but somehow Voldemort couldn't kill me." Ronan flinched visibly at the name, but nodded.

"That's pretty much it. I recommend "Terror of the Flight from Death" if you want more specific details. It goes into all the actions he took, the terror he brought, and the way he went about nearly conquering the world. Also, Hadrian…" He looked uncomfortable for a moment, but spoke anyways.

"Has anyone told you why we don't say his name?" Hadrian shook his head, confused, causing the man to sigh in relief.

"I'm glad. To make a long, complex story short, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named set something called a Taboo on his name. What that meant is that he tapped into the natural magics of the British Isles themselves and set an alarm on his name; anytime somebody said his name he was alerted. He made it a personal goal to execute everyone who said his name. One of your Great Uncles, Edward Potter, fell prey to that very Taboo." Hadrian's eyes widened in shock at the first bit of information someone had truly given him about any part of his family, even as Ronan nodded grimly.

"It was decided after the war that we still wouldn't say his name, for a variety of reasons. Lingering fear and a desire to not glorify the ba…the man by making sure his name remained on everyone's lips were the main ones, although there were more discussed." The man rubbed his face with a single hand before he continued.

"I doubt anyone will worry about you saying it, if you so choose. After all, you're the reason he's no longer around. I just ask you keep in mind the terror he brought. It may seem silly to you if all the wizarding raised children flinch every time you say it, but please have patience with them. I also ask that you try and not make others say the name…a lot of us still remember." Hadrian nodded, and Ronan forced away the gloom.

"Alright then; let's get to the reason you're here, shall we? Your own personal trunk. Come on to the back, it's where I've been storing it." Ronan ushered him towards a door at the back of the store, talking all the way.

"So, I don't know how much you know about Wizarding Stores, but I'm not boasting when I say I am currently the man to see about high quality trunks and bags, throughout the world. I custom make over 30 trunks in a years' time for people all throughout the world; haven't had a complaint yet. I've been in this business for…oh dear, 25, 26 years now? Still, during the Dark Lord's time in power I lost a lot of family to him. Both my nephews are in Azkaban, that's the Wizarding Prison for the truly terrible criminals, because of the fact that they made the stupid decision to follow his pretty words early on. And…" Ronan stops for a moment, swallowing heavily.

"I lost a daughter to him as well." Hadrian stops as well, but Ronan shakes his head and pushes on.

"To say the least, when you put him down ten years ago, I celebrated like all the rest. I loved my daughter; loved my nephews. One dead, two criminals who could very well have helped kill her…to say the least, my happiness when he died was immeasurable. It took some time for me to get over it.

After…dealing, I guess would be the best way to put it. After dealing with the losses and recovering from the celebrations, I started worrying about you. A lot of people did. Your parents, James and Lily, had died to save you, and nobody knew where you were living or who was taking care of you." The man paused in his speech, looking at the oversized clothes and taped glasses as he walked. A frown crossed his face, but he shook it off for the moment.

"After Dumbledore fought off the sudden surge for your guardianship, and believe me Hadrian, it was a fight, I started turning my thoughts to how I could possibly repay you…a lot of the world did." Another sigh left his lips.

"I know it probably doesn't feel like it for you, but you did the world a service like no other, and all it cost you was everything. Your entire family had been wiped out to the last child with the sole exception of you, and nobody knew where you were or how happy you'd be. So we all started working on what to give you." Hadrian nodded shyly even as Ronan opened up the door, ushering him in.

"I saw that…I've got a massive vault full of mail and gifts I need to work through." Ronan laughed, showing the child to a room down the hall where there was a table with nothing on it.

"I'd imagine so. I don't know if there's anybody in the wizarding world who hasn't sent you mail. Anyways, I figured that I would do exactly what I've done for so many people; make you a trunk. And so, over the course of the past 10 years, I have made…

This."

With that he snapped his fingers, Hadrian gasping as a large trunk phased into existence, slowly and dramatically, just like it had been presented. Longer than most of the ones he'd seen, taller and wider as well, painted black and red with gems glittering in the light, House Potter written on the body in seemingly real gold. Ronan stepped forward, one hand lightly stroking the sizable trunk as he spoke in a hushed tone full of pride.

"This is my Magnum Opus, Hadrian. I have been involved in making this from the very beginning; I cut down the wood, forged the metal into shape…each and every step has had me involved so that the magic would be as strong as humanly possible. As a result, I do believe that I have created something that will be useful to you for the entirety of your hopefully long and fruitful life instead of just being useful during your school years before being abandoned." Hadrian couldn't take his eyes off the gems; red rubies, green emeralds, blue sapphires, and black onyx, each glittering in the light. Ronan continued, a small smile on his face as he continued.

"It is made from a mixture of Mahogany, Redwood, and Blackwood; there is also some marble, basalt, and a touch of limestone. As you can see, there are rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and onyx…I kind of got carried away with the enchantments and needed them to be able to hold them all since the wood wouldn't hold it all. Painted with black and red, embossed with gold and silver…yeah, I admit, I'm rather proud of this. Your name is on the top, don't think you can see it from there…" Hadrian finally stepped forward a bit more, seeing Hadrian James Potter written with silver in the finest calligraphy he'd ever seen. He really wasn't sure how to feel about it all…surely it was too much? Ronan paid no mind to the child's hesitation, continuing on with pride.

"It is 60 by 36 by 30. That is to say that it is 60 inches long, 36 inches wide, and 30 inches tall. Despite it's humble looks, it is, to my knowledge, the only trunk in existence with 13 compartments with enchantments both within and without." Hadrian tried to figure out why that was so big a deal, because Ronan's voice swelled with satisfaction during that bit. Fortunately for him the man explained.

"I know that doesn't mean much to you, but it is incredibly impressive, if I do say so myself. To break it down in a quick fashion; most trunks only have one compartment, which is typically heavily enchanted with whatever the person wants. Size, space, a miniature mansion…whatever they want." The boy had no idea whether or not the man was joking with the last bit, but Ronan continued anyways.

"Following onto that is the other standard option; three compartments. With three compartments, the enchantments you can put on them decrease, due to the fact that you have three separate things already requiring an enchantment to occupy the same place. Make sense so far?" Hadrian nodded slowly after the man looked at him. It took magic to have things in the same space…or so?

"What do you mean by occupying the same space?"

"Basically, when someone buys a trunk like that, they are handed a set of three keys. Each key opens up a different compartment in the same trunk. For example, the first key is put in, lid opened, and a basic storage space opens up, the full size of the trunk, maybe with expanded space or some shelving. Trunk gets closed, second key put in, open it up and now you have an ingredient cupboard instead in the same space where your storage space was. That help?" His nod was a lot more confident now.

"So that trunk has 13 separate spaces inside it's walls…but why are the enchantments so remarkable?" Ronan grinned once more.

"Simple; the more space you have in one area, the less magic you can use to provide extra enchantments. It's not so much a limit of magic as it is a limit of material. Even the best of wood can only hold so much magic of any power, and the stronger the enchantments the fewer enchantments you can weave into that same material. It's actually why I added in so many gems and metals; they can greatly increase the amount of magic a space can hold. As a result, the enchantments on each and every one of your thirteen compartments are actually stronger than the enchantments on a single compartment trunk. Because of that…well, I was able to do quite a lot." What Ronan didn't mention was the absolutely astronomical cost of this trunk; in his grief he had gone a bit more overboard than he had planned, but it was all fine. It wasn't like he was hurting for galleons, even with the overly excessive trunk being made. Besides…Harry Potter had saved them all. When compared to that, what was a bit of money?

"Now, before I can actually start showing you everything, we need to tie you to it. For that, I am going to need you to place your hand on top of the trunk, just below your name." The boy stepped forward once more, his hand falling onto the incredibly smooth frame of the trunk. He couldn't stop himself from running his fingers across it; cool, smooth wood was his only sensation, something that brought a gentle smile to his lips. Polished hardwood had always felt nice to him; he'd gotten a lot of experience with it through all the cleaning Vernon and Petunia had made him do, even if there wasn't all that much of it in the house. After a moment he stopped, placing his hand where Ronan guided it.

"There we go…now give me just a moment…" Out came a stick, which Hadrian was beginning to assume had to be a wand, and even as the man muttered to himself in a strange, unidentifiable language he tapped Hadrian's hand, tapped the trunk, and suddenly warmth surged through him with more force than he'd ever experienced before today. A gasp left his lips, eyes glowing once again as mighty enchantments bound tightly to him, just as they had been designed to. Ronan gave it until Hadrian's eyes stopped glowing to speak again.

"Quite a rush, isn't it Hadrian?" The boy nodded, unable to speak as he recovered, causing a chuckle to leave the man's lips.

"And that, Hadrian, is how you know when something is well enchanted. You feel something when you touch it; what you feel depends on the nature of the enchantments. As a word of warning, if you ever get a rush of cold or icy fingers on your spine…well, you need to remove yourself from whatever situation you're in." The child nodded thoughtfully, taking his hand off the trunk. Strangely enough the trunk seemed to shudder in front of him at the loss, but it went ignored as Ronan continued on.

"Let us begin with the first compartment, yes? Say the words "First Compartment", "One", or anything really so long as you want the first compartment, and watch." Did Hadrian not need to open it by hand or something? That…a small smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

"First Compartment." The moment the final syllable left his lips the trunk had floated off the table to right in front of him, floating in the air at the perfect height for the short boy to be able to reach into. A light pop heralded the trunk opening, the lid rising up at a perfect 90-degree angle from the trunk itself. Hadrian looked inside, surprised at how simple it was. Nothing but a simple trunk compartment, although it was admittedly three times wider and deeper than the size of the actual trunk. The only thing inside it at the moment was a messenger bag, and Ronan was quick to explain.

"This compartment was, obviously, the first. I wasn't sure where I wanted to take this project…honestly I made it in more of a fugue of grief than anything else. There aren't really any special features with this one other than the obvious; it's a lot bigger than it should be, anything you put in here won't move, and it's the quickest compartment to gain access to. When I wound up adding in more compartments and scrapping the original model for what you see before you, I wound up giving it another feature. By stating whatever item you want, or simply having it in mind when you reach inside it, it will appear in this compartment from 10 of the other compartments." Ronan chuckled ruefully, shaking his head.

"I apologize for how plain it is, but like I said, I wasn't in the best state for it. Mainly, this compartment is primarily for allowing you quick access whatever you need in a day without having to go through multiple compartments to get ready. Clothes, books, ink, quill, parchment…anything you need. The messenger bag can do something similar; carrying around a trunk during school would be irritating to say the least." Hadrian nodded in agreement as Ronan continued.

"Moving on, speak "Second Compartment." It will show you the next one." Hadrian did as told, wondering if the next one would have a bit more magical than this one had been.

"Second Compartment." The lid closed gently, opening a moment later, and Hadrian's wish came true.

Racks of fine wood, dark brown and covered in soft red velvet came floating out of the trunk before disbelieving eyes, shelves floating up to the top of the trunk where they were easily reachable. Each shelf and rack were labeled by pretty carving, gems laid into the words. Several different subjects that he'd never heard of were listed, even as more things floated around him. Ronan laughed at the child's look of awe, careful not to touch any of the racks.

"Quite the sight, isn't it?" Hadrian nodded, a smile stretching his lips. This was so much better; one hand came up, fingers running across the finely polished wood and the fine fabric even as more things floated out. Directly in front of him floated a dark wooden table without legs, levitating perfectly at a spot where he wouldn't even have to bend over to write. The shelves and racks on his left and right finished setting up, each within easy reach. A bit of thought, just simple curiosity, had the shelf labeled "Transfiguration" swapping places with the one named "Charms", the new shelf being at the perfect height to reach and the "Charms" one taking it's place lower down. Nothing was connected to anything else, each floating freely…this was magic. Ronan starts to explain after giving Hadrian another few moments to appreciate the sudden change.

"And now we get to what I designed second; The Student Compartment. As you can see, it is practically a dream for any student, with racks for quills and ink that will never spill and shelves for each and every class you will have at Hogwarts. Any books or journals you set upright on those shelves will remain as placed, serving as reference for whatever homework you have. The other trays floating around are for parchment, notes, drawings…anything that you have that doesn't have a standard place. Now, will the desk part of it out of the way so you can see the rest please." A moment of confused thought had the desk shifting to his left, allowing him to see inside the trunk; more velvet shelving.

"That area is for your additional reference books. Your school books will go on the shelves, but anything you have that is just for additional texts or reference material can go in here. This area is also a lot more heavily enchanted in case you have any tomes that are a bit older than the others, or simply anything else fragile." Hadrian nodded in understanding, and with a half-understood thought the shelves, racks, and table packed itself back into the compartment, the lid closing afterwards. Hadrian's smile only widened, speaking again with little more than a wave from Ronan to continue.

"Third Compartment." The lid opened once more, shelves upon shelves floating out to hover around him. Blank cards sat on every shelf, waiting for notes or labels to be written upon them.

"This is your Personal Library Hadrian. While the second compartment is for School purposes, this one is for every other book. Obscure topics, rule books for games, fantasy books, adventure books, nonfiction books, esoteric magical tomes…anything you want. Each shelf can hold up to 500 books; each case, which has four shelves each, can therefore hold up to two thousand. Simply run your hands across the shelf to have it slide in a new set of books." Another thought, this time more understood, and the shelves packed up. Still more magical than the first compartment, still with a smile on his face, Hadrian spoke again. So far it was proving to be better than he'd expected…

"Fourth Compartment." The lid opened up again, racks and cupboards floating upwards. Each one was labeled with truly strange names; Billingwing Stigs, Eye of Newt, Dragons Liver…Hadrian's mouth turned down into a frown at that, causing Ronan to laugh.

"Easy there Hadrian; it's not what it looks like. This is little more than a glorified potions cupboard, connected to the 1st and 11th compartments. More on the 11th later, but, basically, Potion Ingredients don't like cross contamination. And don't worry about the names; while some of them may be exactly what they sound like, most of them are simply parts of plants that, when treated with certain liquids or magical spells, gain effects when brewed into potions. Potions are an incredibly important factor in the world; half of this trunk wouldn't have been possible without a number of potions to treat the wood and gems." Hadrian nodded slowly, the multitude of racks and shelves floating back into the trunk with naught but a thought, even before the next words left his mouth.

"Fifth Compartment." The lid shut, and to Hadrian's amazement the trunk turned, the end of it landing on the ground as the entire trunk grew to be a fair bit taller than he was, standing vertically as the lid opened fully. It didn't rest at the L shape it had been with every other compartment; no, this one opened completely, like one of the textbooks from school. Inside looked…like a closet?

"Go on Hadrian; it won't hurt you, and for this one it's better to walk inside." Uncertain steps led him into his trunk, Ronan remaining outside. Green eyes took in a massive wardrobe, designed in dark brown woods and gentle tones. A plush cream carpet covered the entirety of the floor, shelves to the left, right, and front for clothes. A shoe rack took up both sides of the entrance; an entire room inside a single compartment.

He loved magic.

Several bars were on the walls, waiting for clothes to be hung from them; several cabinets as well. More large cabinets had full sized mirrors on the doors; Hadrian would like to think he didn't need quite that many mirrors. A pair of benches ran down the center of the room, leading up to a strange mahogany desk…a vanity, that was what Petunia had called it when he'd been forced to clean it. Several brushes lay beside it, another mirror on it. One shelf was to each side of the vanity, waiting there for…books? Why he would need books in a wardrobe he wasn't sure, but maybe there was magic for grooming?

That thought had him giggle to himself; of course, there was magic for grooming. Why wouldn't there be? The room was empty other than that, and after forcing himself to stop smiling at the magic he walked back out. The door…lid? It shut behind him, the trunk seamlessly returning to floating at the perfect height for his convenience.

"As you saw, that is your very own wardrobe. Basic features, according to my wife; all the "necessities"." Ronan made a point of grinning as he said necessities, as if making a joke that Hadrian didn't get. He smiled back nevertheless, not wanting to potentially offend the man who had made him something so incredible. The man continued after that brief pause to grin.

"I'm going to be honest when I tell you that I didn't have much to do with that one. I built it, certainly, but it was my wife who picked out all the things inside it, as well as designed it. Something about "Men not having appropriate taste." Little bit of divination to divine your future tastes in decoration, and we managed it. If you ever manage to run out of room to store clothing or shoes, I will be incredibly surprised. Still, it has everything you could possibly need make yourself look as good as wizardly possible, and with magic…well, that's pretty good. I don't know if you walked all the way over far enough to see it or not, but the vanity desk actually has a rune design to change the top of the desk into a sink. It also has places to store any kind of make-up you or any significant others may decide to use, whether muggle or magical. Still, it's a walk-in wardrobe…only so much I can glamor it up." Hadrian nodded, speaking after making sure the man wasn't going to speak again.

"Sixth Compartment." The trunk once again turned on it's end again, the lid opening in the exact way it had before with the wardrobe. Unlike with the Fifth, however, Ronan spoke before Hadrian could walk in.

"This is a Runic Enchanter, Hadrian. I know that doesn't mean much to you now, but it will in the future. Runes are some of the strongest forms of permanent magic that can be managed, locking it into place like nothing else. Anything you can manage with a wand can be managed with runes with enough work, with the added benefit of lasting until either the magic of the runes run out or, more commonly, somebody manages to dismantle your rune scheme. Rune-work can last practically forever when done right; we still haven't even located half of the Egyptian Pyramids because of them." That caused a gasp; everyone knew about the Pyramids and how massive they were.

"There are runes for anything and everything, and your Trunk is protected by them too. This particular compartment will give you a completely safe area to work on them. Isolated from the outside, with no sound entering in or out other than what you bring in with you, this will give you the perfect place to work on your Rune Carving…should you choose to take the class, at least. I know that both your parents did, and that the Potters always have, which is why I installed it." The man sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Runework is, unfortunately, dangerous when done wrong. Explosions are common even when Masters are trying new things, and it is one of the most dangerous fields of magic there is. Yet with high risk comes high reward, for even moderately talented Rune Crafters can make an excellent living. Those who excel in Rune Work, like…oh, say, me…" He waved cheerfully.

"Can make fortunes on practically everything they do. Runes are used in a ridiculous number of things, and there is always more demand than there are carvers. However, as I said, it's dangerous. So I created something based off of my own workshop, if scaled up quite a bit. Nothing you make in there will harm you, no matter how badly the runes hate each other. If they were to explode instead of working or fizzing out, the runic wards in there will shield it and get your hands out of the well-contained blast area. This will happen no matter where you are carving in the room, so long as you are in that room." The man thinks for a moment, making sure he'd covered everything.

"I think that's it; you can walk in now. I just wanted you to know what you would be looking at." Hadrian flashed another smile before stepping forward into the trunk. Once again walking into it was like walking into an entirely sperate existence; the glimpse of a desk and chair had been all he could see through the doorway. Was it even a doorway?

He shook his head, focusing instead on the room. A black, stone floor, carved with hundreds of small symbols beneath plush cream rugs. Dark green walls, with even more of the symbols behinds cabinets with glass doors. A few bookshelves were next to the massive desk, one on each side. The desk itself wasn't really one; sure, it was in front of a very comfortable looking chair that was covered by even more runes, and the desk was covered in even more, but it was more of a work-table than anything. A few shelves attached to the wall, made of the same mahogany wood that seemed so prevalent throughout the trunk. Pegs and racks were there as well, for things that Hadrian didn't know about. It was simultaneously finished and yet not finished; all the trappings were here, but no materials or tools to work with. Hadrian assumed he'd have to buy whatever those were elsewhere. A pair of sizable armchairs and a large couch were set around a dark wood coffee table; a break area perhaps? He didn't know.

Still, there was…something…in the air inside this compartment. Safety and calm, the likes of which he'd never felt. He honestly didn't doubt Ronan's assurance that nothing would happen to him here. It made him smile once more; there would be more time to look at this in detail later. For now, it seemed fairly simple, at least to untrained eyes. He turned back around and left without exploring much of it, even if the room was larger than both of Dudley's bedrooms combined. Hadrian thought it was still smaller than the wardrobe.

Walking out, the Trunk did the same as before, closing and floating back at the previous level. Hadrian, a bit sheepish, explained why he'd been so quick.

"Umm…sorry…but I don't really know anything about Runes…for now it doesn't…" His stumbling attempts to explain were met with good-natured laughter.

"I know Hadrian, you don't have to worry about offending me. Honestly, I don't know if you will ever take an interest in Runes. In that case, this compartment can simply just sit there until you decide to pass the trunk on to your…well, ideally great-great-great-great grandchildren. This compartment is there if you need it. That's it. Same with the 8th, the 11th, the 12th, and the 13th. As I mentioned earlier Hadrian, I intend for this trunk to last your entire life, at the minimum. You may hate something in school, only to wind up deciding to take it up later in life. You may not ever pick up some things. Both options are perfectly alright." He knelt down, grabbing Hadrian's hands in his own and making sure that Hadrian was paying complete attention to him.

"Always Remember that, Hadrian Potter. You don't have to do anything; you did more than anyone could ever ask of you at just over a year old. No matter how pressured you feel, or how many people want you to do something for them, remember that. My gift, along with all the gifts you've been given or will be given, are because of our gratitude. We don't expect repayment, or for you to learn our trades, or for you to be a prodigy of all things magic, or anything. We expect you to be an 11-year old boy, learning magic and wanting to have fun. We expect you to make friends, to go to school and learn about so many things. We expect you to find a girlfriend, or boyfriend, in the future, and be happy. We expect you to live your life to the fullest. That is all. Don't ever feel guilty because somebody has given you something you don't understand, or can't use. Just do whatever it is you want to do." Hadrian swallowed, heart in his throat, blinking furiously as the man squeezed his hands and smiled before letting go, giving him a few moments to recompose himself. It took the child every single second he was giving, shoving down the happiness over the fact that a stranger was the first person in his life to ever reassure him. He didn't need to break down…not here.

If there had been one thing the Dursley's were good for, it was allowing him to control his emotions. As such he was able to force it all down, no matter how happy Ronan Lestrange had just made him.

"Now, how about you keep going? You still have 7 more compartments, and while two of them are boring, the other five I'm quite proud of. Well, I'm proud of all of them, but two of them are more of the "In Case" than the others." Hadrian spoke again, and if his voice was a bit wobbly…well, Ronan didn't say anything.

"Seventh Compartment." The lid opened, and nothing else happened. Hadrian looked down into it; the trunk was separated into dozens of small cubbies, Ronan quick to explain.

"This is a large storage compartment. I mainly designed it for if you needed to carry anything that was bigger than the trunk; furniture or stone you didn't want to put in the Enchanter. It doesn't look like much, but it's pretty amazing if I do say so myself…here." Out came the stick, a massive desk appearing from nowhere before shocked eyes.

"Here; it won't last too long, but it'll be long enough to get the point across. Put your hand on the desk and say "Store." You'll be amazed at what happens." Needing a moment to get over the sudden appearance of a desk with naught but a wave of a wand, Hadrian nevertheless did as he was told. Up came his hand, resting against the rough wood of the desk.

"Store." The trunk floated forward, lid still open, and before disbelieving eyes the desk shrank as it was sucked into the trunk. Hadrian blinked and it was over; looking inside the trunk showed it inside one of the many little compartments. One blink, two, three…none of which truly believed what was being shown.

"How…" A bark of laughter from the man as the boy stuttered.

"Magic, Hadrian. Runes, Enchantments…like I said. Anything, and I mean anything that is bigger than the trunk can fit in here. Now, take your hand, reach into the Trunk, and pick up the desk." In for a pence, in for a pound, Hadrian supposed, doing exactly as told. His hand, despite being bigger than the desk, only rested on a small part of it, feeling exactly as it had before it was "stored". Pulling back with it, the desk appeared in front of him, floating just above the ground instead of resting on it. Hadrian frowned, trying to take his hand off it, only for it to follow his hand, nearly bumping himself with the desk.

A slightly larger frown before it clicked; the remaining enchantments on the trunk had to be allowing him to move it. Almost as if reading his mind, Ronan was quick to comment.

"As you can see, there's more to it than just making it appear and disappear. When you pull things out the trunk, it will be weightless until you say the words "Set here." It doesn't just react to your hand though. Try thinking about it rotating, or sitting in a certain spot in the room." Thought made reality a moment later, the desk unlatching from his hand even as it floated over the corner, spinning until the back of the desk gently bumped against the wall. Hadrian's voice rang out once more into the room.

"Set here." The desk softly floated down, a slight groan of settling wood as weight and reality reasserted themselves. Hadrian took a moment, just watching the desk, before it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Ronan returned his wand to wherever he was storing it, a soft smile on his face.

"There you go Hadrian. It's simple, right?" Hadrian nodded even as the lid shut, taking the soft thunk as his que to go to the next one…after several moments of getting over his awe. Simple, right!

"Eighth Compartment." The lid opened up again, the walls opening up as well, the left and right walls flapping back to be in line with the lid. The front flopped down, in line with the bottom, as various shelves and racks faded into existence. A frown crossed Hadrian's lips once more; what was this?

The back of it, or the lid, had shadows on it, looking like a place to store…armor? A vest, bracers, greaves, gloves, boots…Hadrian wasn't sure what it was for. On the bottom were three sets of rungs, with the shadows of…brooms? The shelves were labeled with words like "Polish" and "Cleaner", the racks with shadows of brushes…why did he need a compartment devoted entirely to brooms and armor? Ronan spoke, seemingly on cue.

"This is the Flying Compartment…alongside Quidditch." Hadrian turned to look at the man in confusion, hope beginning to rise within him, Ronan obliging the clear question.

"Wizards and Witches can fly through the use of enchanted broomsticks, Hadrian." The child's eyes widened in shock, jaw falling just a bit as Ronan grinned once more. He'd thought about it last night, but hadn't expected it to be real!

"Let me assure you, flying is…absolutely amazing. Quidditch is even more fun, as is racing. I have no doubt that you'll absolutely adore it…practically everybody does. The shadows on this one are to show you where everything goes; Quidditch Armor has to be sized to you, if you ever decide to play. Broom Care Kits, which have quite a bit in them, also take up quite a bit of room." Hadrian smiled to himself once he regained control. Flying on a broom…it sounded wonderful…

He shook his head even as the trunk returned to normal, closing up once more. He couldn't help but admire the way it did it; seamlessly sealing back as though it hadn't come apart completely. He had no idea how that was possible, but he supposed magic didn't have the same limitations that regular crafting did. The thought almost made him laugh; it was magic. If it wasn't making the impossible reality and laughing at the rules that "Muggles" put on things…what good was it?

"Ninth Compartment." Compared to most of the trunk so far, this one was lackluster in comparison; the lid opened, nothing popping out or fading into existence. He looked down, blinking in shock at the gaping chasm that was the ninth compartment. He didn't even have an estimate of how much space was between the top and the wood that made up the walls…or the bottom. Ronan once again provided an explanation of his greatest creation.

"The Ninth is pretty simple in comparison to the rest of them. By this point, I was in full creation mode, having planned out all the rest of the trunk…I was just one compartment short. However, I realized that, barring the first compartment, I hadn't made or planned to make a proper general storage area. While there were specific places for a lot of things, you wouldn't have a place to store simple mementos, souvenirs, or just…well, stuff." The face the man made as he said the word "stuff" had Hadrian giggling helplessly; it was like Ronan had tasted something sour.

"So, since I had a free compartment, and you needed more storage space…maybe…possibly…this became General Storage. Anything that doesn't have a specific place can go in here. Wasn't really sure what would be stored, so it has a bevy of protective enchantments within it as well. Nothing you put in there will spill, break, or hit anything else in there. That's basically it. Now, the next four are, in my humble opinion, the best parts of the trunk. Go on…" The lid closed, Hadrian's voice ringing out once more.

"Tenth Compartment." Like with the 5th and 6th, the trunk turned vertical, a gentle thunk as it landed on the floor and opened up entirely. He looked at Ronan, who gestured inside, before stepping in without hesitation, breath leaving him in a surprised gasp the moment his eyes could take it all in.

It was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

Ronan had made a quip earlier about having a miniature mansion inside of a trunk. Looking at this place, he could believe it. This was…it was unbelievable! Fantastic, magnificent, wonderful, brilliant, amazing, astounding, and so many other words he didn't even know that could possibly mean the same thing!

Guilt surged through him as he stepped forward onto carpet so plush he sank into it, colored a blue so dark it was nearly black. Ugly, large trainers inherited from Dudley were shucked off with ease at the entrance, a startled gasp slipping from his lips as sock-clad feet sank into that carpet, so soft and supportive it was like nothing he'd felt before.

Well...that wasn't entirely true. It reminded him quite a bit of the chair from earlier, in Director Ragnok's office. Gentle steps forward had him smiling happily, looking back up to the room which was so incredible.

An unlit fireplace was in front of him, surrounded with large and luxurious furniture. A couch, made of some kind of leather, long enough for him to stretch out twice over. Two armchairs that could probably fit three of him in. A recliner that looked like no recliner he'd ever seen, that could once again fit three or more of him in. A papasan chair, recognizable only because Petunia had once considered getting one before she realized the weight limits (Hadrian still regretted the fact that he hadn't been able to watch Dudley or Vernon crush the wood by trying to sit in it), sat there as well, once again big enough that multiple Hadrian's could curl up on its dark green cushion. A strange metal container sat next to the fireplace; perhaps it held firewood?

Dark wood tables were next to each bit of furniture, a coffee table between the couch and the fireplace. Dark colors were abundant; nothing was bright or vivid. He found himself liking it after a lifetime of dealing with Petunia's eye-wateringly normal color schemes. A single unlit candle rested on each side table, one lit one on the coffee table, supplying seemingly perfect light as well as the background fragrance of cookies to the entire compartment.

To the left, with not so much as a wall between them, was a massive bed, larger than any he'd ever seen before; if he could fit three or more of himself in the chairs or couch, he could fit even more in the bed. It was even larger than Vernon and Petunia's, and considering that their bed had to support Vernon…

Hadrian couldn't help but walk over, adoring the feeling of the carpet on his feet as he did, and stood next to the bed. It came up to above his waist; his hands pressed onto it, sinking so perfectly into it…Hadrian couldn't help himself. The child levered himself into it, sighing with delight as he sank into something that was simultaneously softer and more supportive than anything he'd imagined. He flopped face forward, ignoring the multiple pillows at the head of the bed; it was much too far to crawl at the moment.

Laying there, in the softest thing he'd ever experienced, including the goblin chair from earlier…it took him a few minutes to muster up the will to move, no matter the fact that he knew Ronan was still waiting on him. But when he managed it, pushing himself up and sitting in bed, it was with a smile he didn't even realize he was wearing, looking around at the remaining things inside, stuff he hadn't paid any attention to yet.

A bathroom was in view, once again without a wall to block it off. Considering the trunk was designed for him, with nobody else supposed to enter it, he didn't really mind it. The lush carpet turned to green stone, a cabinet holding a sink, a toilet made of equally dark green stone, and a massive tub that had over two dozen faucets. Why they were all needed, he didn't know, but they were there. A kitchen on the other side of the furniture, away from the bathroom; a stove, several cabinets, another sink…did he not get a refrigerator? That was enough to make him get off the bed, however much he regretted that, and wandered over to that. There were three sets of cabinets; the first he opened had icy air blasting into his face, a wide smile replacing the confusion.

Of course it was magical. Why did the Magical World need a bright white refrigerator when they could simply magic a bit of cold into anything they wanted to do? Even just standing there with the doors open had him shivering; this was obviously a freezer. Closing it and going to the next one had it being proven to be the equivalent of a refrigerator. The final one was at the temperature of the compartment; a little chilly, but not cold like the refrigerated one, or the frozen one.

Looking at the stove and oven had him smiling a bit wider; runes he didn't understand were on it, but those runes were set to a dial with temperatures just like muggle ones, meaning that he could still use it. There was a fair bit of counter space, cabinets beneath it, but Hadrian didn't bother sorting through that at the moment. Everything he'd checked so far had been empty after all; this was just the trunk, even if he was incredibly happy that he had furniture that was so big and soft.

His eyes finally turned to the last part of the compartment, off to the direct right of the entrance. A large, circular indent in the floor, nowhere near as deep as the tub. A few chests; shelves and cabinets with glass panes instead of solid wood. He really wasn't sure what the point of it was.

Still, even if it served no purpose whatsoever, the rest of the compartment more than made up for it. It would be a nice place to hide away if things got to much at Hogwarts…

With that he turned to leave, making sure to slip the oversized trainers back on, no matter how much he hated it. Ronan was waiting on him, just as he had been the whole time, a smile on his face.

"I take it you liked this one a bit more than the others?" The boy couldn't stop himself from nodding; a cozy little hideaway was very much appreciated. He would like it even more if he'd been forced to return to the Dursley's.

"What was the point of the stuff over to the right? The circle and the chests?" Ronan smirked, shrugging even as he spoke.

"Whatever you want it to be, really. This compartment is the "Vault", so to speak. A kitchen, a bathroom, a living room, a bed, and a place for you to store the things you like looking at the most. The circle, if you want, can be for you to store piles of gold, like a dragon." The child thought about it; that didn't actually sound too bad. There had been piles upon piles upon piles of gold and gems in his vault, and that was only one of his vaults. He couldn't say the idea was unappealing, even if the way it had been phrased made him want to giggle.

"Alternatively, you can store practically anything. Like I said; it's for things you like looking at. There's plenty of wall space for portraits or paintings. The chests can store anything you want; like I said, it's a vault. It's a place for you to relax and enjoy yourself; recycle from the world at large. Sure, the bed aspect might become superfluous after you get your own home, but it's always nice to have your own little place to relax, where nobody can get to you." That was definitely the truth. He hadn't owned anything to give, but he would have sacrificed a fair bit of what little food he was given if he'd had a place he could hide away from the Dursleys.

The trunk closed, levitating once more, even as Hadrian prepared to speak the next one. Ronan grinned once more; the 10th compartment had been the most important in the short run, according to the fates, so he was quite glad that the boy was happy with it. While he couldn't enter, he could see inside; he'd watched as the child sprawled on the bed. He'd been a bit confused as to why he needed everything so big, but the more he watched young Hadrian look at things the more he understood; Hadrian wasn't used to having his own space. An abused muggle-born, or in his case raised…

Well, to say the least, there was a reason that Magicals had separated themselves from Muggles so long ago, and the biggest one was standing in front of him. The thought of any child suffering this way was enough to infuriate him; their savior? The single reason why the entirety of the world wasn't bowing to a madman, abused? He forced himself to stop going down that train of thought as the boy spoke again. He'd have to talk to some of the other shopkeepers, however; this could not stand.

"Eleventh Compartment." As was becoming routine, the trunk once again turned on its end, opening up completely. Stepping into it gave Hadrian little more than confusion.

The entire floor of this compartment was made of black stone, smooth and cold. Cabinets upon cabinets were on the walls…and the labels were familiar. Several steps closer so he could actually read them clearly had him nodding to himself; Billywig Stigs. Something involving potion ingredients then.

He turned, looking at the multiple stone counters and metal racks; looking at them, they were sized for…for cauldrons? He remembered cauldrons in display windows on the way to Gringotts the first time, so did that mean that wizards and witches actually made potions in cauldrons? That would make sense he supposed…but how much of a potion did you have to drink for it to be effective, if they were all made in cauldrons?

His eyes wandered over the rest; a pair of armchairs, several metal containers that, on opening, held wood. There wasn't really much else to mention; it just seemed like a place to make potions, and perhaps relax during it. Several bookshelves were by the chairs, something that Hadrian was beginning to see a theme with. Books seemed to be universal in the walk-in compartments; even the wardrobe had had a shelf! It was actually rather nice; asking questions or reading books at the Dursley's was…discouraged to say the least. At least Ronan had built everything with learning in mind…

Without much knowledge of potion making, there was nothing else to really look at, so he left, Ronan quick to soothe a child who was out of his depth yet again.

"This is a Potions Lab, Hadrian. I know that, like the Runic Enchanter and the Quidditch Compartment, it's not something you need at the moment, or possibly at all. It is, once again, there just in case you wind up needing it. Whether it's as simple as practicing your brewing at Hogwarts or as complex as creating a new potion for a Mastery in the future; it's there in case you need it." The man suddenly chuckled, shaking his head.

"Unfortunately, the next compartment is one I know you're going to need. Go ahead." A nod and a spoken command; the boy was growing more confident in regards to his trunk at least.

"Twelfth Compartment." Almost as expected, the Trunk turned back on its end, opening wide and welcoming. Hadrian stepped through, suppressing a moan of contentment as his feet hit another set of incredibly plush carpet. Green eyes closed once more in a long blink, opening finally to look inside.

This compartment was much like the tenth, except instead of being a relaxing area/vault, it was an office. A fireplace was in the wall, across from a massive desk and armchair. Lips tugged down into a frown even as he stepped towards the desk and chair, ignoring the multitude of bookshelves that he had honestly expected. The desk was massive, having a single book sitting open in the middle and two large candles, one on each end.

Walking around to the chair, he frowned. What was the point of having all of the furniture so big? Was he going to grow into it? Have people sitting with him?

The second thought brought back the memory of his servants, pushing it home with all the passion they'd put into kissing him while they'd both held him in that incredibly comfortable chair earlier, and he blushed, his entire body suffused with heat. Perhaps he was going to have people sitting with him in all the furniture.

He forced the image away, choosing instead to slide into the massive chair, a helpless groan leaving his lips as it was even better than the goblins. Comfort and pleasure and contentment surged through him on contact, unable to stop himself from relaxing into the chair with closed eyes for several moments. Opening his eyes, he looked at it all, blushing once again as he realized that the chair was big enough that even if he grew a fair bit his servants would still be able to snuggle up with him. His arms didn't even make it to the armrests…

Almost as if it was on cue, the chair morphed, the armrests sliding towards him completely independent of the rest of the chair, resting under his arms just as they were meant to. He couldn't stop the giggle.

Once again forcing the thoughts away, he looked at the desk; dark brown wood, smooth and polished, long enough that he felt he could stretch out on it. Wide enough he couldn't reach the end, even when he leaned all the way forward…and then he gasped, as the chair floated forward into the sizable gap beneath the desk until his stomach was just about to touch the desk. He couldn't stop his smile, even as he realized that he could still easily reach the drawers. His eyes caught several runes on the desk; a memory of Ragnok using what had to be runes to make things appear on his desk flashed through his mind. Not knowing what they did, he looked at the book instead; it was the only book in the trunk so far after all, no matter the ridiculous number of bookcases everywhere.

Thick paper with a black leather cover, turned to the first page; a title page. "Magical Trunk" was written there, a blank line underneath it. A flip of a page had instructions showing, an entire letter written down. As much as he wanted to read it…he really didn't want to have a headache when there was so much left to do. Even just looking at the finely written words caused a twinge in the eternal pain.

He left the book where it was, turning it back to the title page and heading out to where Ronan waited, incredibly reluctant to remove himself from the chair. Magical furniture had to be the most wonderful thing in existence. Leaving the trunk saw Ronan waiting while leaning against the table, surprise on his face as Hadrian walked out of the trunk.

"Huh, you read through that quickly. I was expecting you to be in there for a few minutes." Hadrian forced himself not to flinch, offering up his reasons weakly.

"Umm…I didn't read it…you were waiting…" The man blinked, shaking his head and chuckling.

"That will teach me to make assumptions." The child went to speak again, only for Ronan to wave him off with amusement.

"It's fine, Hadrian. You did nothing wrong. Basically, that book serves as multiple things; instructions, a way to give other people access to the trunk, reminders on the functions of the trunk, and a way to adjust those functions to be more or less intuitive. Nothing major, and it explains everything as it covers it. You can also rename the book to whatever you want by writing down a new title on the blank line under the current title." Another chuckle.

"Amusingly enough, for the vocal commands, they will all react to the title you write down." Hadrian nodded slowly, waiting for anything else even as the trunk reacted to his thoughts once more and closed up.

"Now, the final compartment isn't really one you'll understand at the moment…" Something flashed over the man's expression, something that Hadrian didn't recognize or understand.

"And I would…appreciate it, if the Thirteenth Compartment stayed between the two of us, along with whoever you need to bring in it to make sure it works correctly." Hadrian nodded, confused, but more than willing to agree anyways. Something else surfaced in those brown eyes; relief. What was up with this compartment?

"This final compartment is a Ritual Room." Those words sent a shudder through Hadrian for reasons he didn't understand, causing Ronan to smile and grimace in the same moment.

"Yeah, you can feel the power, can't you? Rituals are the oldest form of Greater Magics, having been performed ever since Atlantis was on the surface thousands of years ago." Green eyes widened in shock at that, Ronan shaking his head slightly.

"Don't worry about Atlantis at the moment Hadrian; you can easily find out as much as we know in the history books. What's important at the moment is that you understand what Rituals are, and why you have a room created solely for them." The man paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"Rituals are, to make a long and complex explanation as short and understandable as possible, a way for a Wizard or Witch to accomplish things that they otherwise couldn't, like all Greater Magics. It's a plea to Magic itself to work far beyond the limits of human knowledge or capability." The man ran a hand through his hair, not nervous, but not anywhere near as calm as before either.

"You see, Magic isn't like any other force we've discovered. No muggle science or creature mimicry can possibly stand up to the force that Magic can bring to bear, nor surpass the knowledge that is inherent in Magic. With Magic, knowledge is power in practically every scenario, and when your knowledge isn't enough, Magic can and will make up the difference. Despite that, there are limits to what humans can do with Magic.

A wizard might be able to raise an entire castle over the course of a year of his life; gaining every material, crafting every stone, making a masterwork of a castle at the end. It takes time and effort, intent and power." Barely understanding, but following for the most part, Hadrian listened.

"With a well-designed Ritual, with the appropriate materials, runes, potions, or people, that same wizard could build a far stronger, far larger castle in a single day." Hadrian frowned, wondering how that was possible. Ronan nodded grimly.

"A single witch might not be able to cast as powerfully as her older sister; a plea to Magic in the form of a Ritual, the appropriate design, and she shall be stronger than her sister could ever be. A young wizard might be unable understand Runes; it's a field of magic that he just can't get. There's no shame in that; everybody has their talents. A Ritual later and he could possibly be the greatest Rune Crafter in history." Brown eyes turned incredibly grim.

"A lovely young couple, hunted by a foe they could never hope to beat." Icy cold fingers latched onto Hadrian's spine, the examples getting far too personal.

"A Ritual later, the appropriate sacrifice…and their beloved child breaks a law of magic." A shudder ran through the child, a question in his eyes that Ronan was quick to answer.

"I don't know, Hadrian. Nobody knows just how you survived, as I said earlier. Despite that, despite not knowing how to do it myself…I know that it is theoretically possible to craft a Ritual to survive against anything. In ancient times, against an ancient enemy, the first wizards crafted a Ritual using 2,197 magical souls. It took every single life involved, sank Atlantis, scattered people all across the globe…and in return, they obliterated from existence an enemy that outnumbered and outpowered them a million to one. We don't know that Ritual, and no attempt has been made to rediscover it, but we know it happened, for the world still carries the scars from it." Hadrian shuddered in building fear as Ronan finally stopped driving the point home.

"As you can imagine, Rituals are…monitored, to say the least. The only Ritual Rooms currently are in the Ministry-held locations, and outdoor Rituals can only be held in a number of locations, which the Ministry also keeps a close eye on." Was…was this legal? Hadrian was beginning to get concerned.

"While I did get permission for you to have one in your trunk…" And with those words it was everything the child could do to keep paying attention instead of sighing in relief.

"It's still better if you keep quiet about it. Every example I gave about Rituals except for the one involving you I know happened; Rituals can create amazing things, Hadrian…but if you're not careful, they can go horribly wrong." Brown eyes were firm now, staring down a worried child.

"For every Ritual that has gone right, there are a dozen that have gone horribly wrong. Rituals need everything about them to be exact; that's why the compartment is a magically powerful number. It's why there are runes all over that room for safety and security. It's why if anybody scans this trunk they will only find 7 compartments instead of 13; another magical number. Rituals are not something to use lightly…but you may, in the future, after years of learning, decide you want to create one, or use an established one. So, I added one in." A deep breath and a nod of understanding later, Ronan's seriousness lightened, returning to the proud and happy man of before.

"Now, let's approach a bit less serious of a topic, shall we?" Hadrian blinked, shaking himself lightly before agreeing. He was quite happy to leave the idea of Rituals behind him. Bringing his hands together with a loud clap, Ronan continued.

"This, as I may…" He stretched the word out with a smirk.

"Have mentioned a time or two, is my best creation. You see, I wasn't happy with just 13 heavily enchanted compartments, or a messenger bag that is connected to twelve of them and can access anything stored in the trunk with a single thought and a hand. And that includes the furniture." That was…impressive, Hadrian had to admit. A lot more convenient as well.

"The whole point of this, from beginning to end, is for this trunk to be of use to you for your entire life. I could have enchanted you a massive mansion in there instead of thirteen compartments, but I do believe that it would become rather irritating to have to travel through something so large for anything you want. Combining that with the fact that you'll no doubt have a home of your own eventually…well, making your trunk be a trunk rather than a home made more sense to me. It's a bit of a balancing act, I will admit, andone or two of those compartments may seem like they should have been combined, but they all have a purpose and a reason behind their existence, as well as a reason why they are in separate compartments. I could be here all day talking about that, but it's all in that book, so I'll let you read it at your leisure. I'm sure you want to explore more of the Alley today than just a musty old trunk store." It was said with a grin, Hadrian uncertainly smiling back. Ronan took it; considering what he'd picked up while the boy was here, it was likely the best he'd get.

"Now, security features, always a fun thing to discuss. Due to the sheer number of enchantments on the trunk and the compartments…well, suffice to say that I don't want anybody to have access to this except for you, unless you give them permission to do so. As a result, anybody trying to get into this trunk without that permission will be in for a number of nasty surprises. I also feel incredibly sorry for whoever decides to try and break into it by breaking the wards…" The grin that crossed Ronan's face at that was nothing short of feral.

"Anyways, all of that is in the book as well. For what matters to you right now, nobody other than you can do anything with this trunk. They can't put anything in it, can't open, can't take things out of it even when it is open. They can't enter the trunk behind you when you walk in, and whenever you decide to stay in a compartment for more than a few minutes it will close up behind, a door appearing over the exit. Opening that door will let you out; it goes off of your thoughts, much like the closing of the compartments does." That was honestly as impressive as anything else he'd seen; now that he thought about it…was Ronan able to see what he'd done while in the trunk? The image of him flopping onto the massive bed flashed into his head, heat rushing to his face. Ronan graciously ignored it.

"I think that's it?" Hadrian shook his head; there was one thing left that he needed to do. This may have been supposed to be a gift, but even just looking at it he knew this had to have cost a fortune to make. Considering the sheer number of gems on it and built into it…it probably cost more than the Dursleys had ever made.

"I need to pay you." Ronan laughed harder than Hadrian had seen all morning, shaking his head.

"Hadrian…this is a gift for you. I'm not going to let you pay for it." Hadrian dug his heels in, speaking back.

"How much did you spend making this? I can't just accept something like this…I was expecting a slightly magical trunk…not this. This is too much." Ronan smiled, gentle and understanding.

"Hadrian…I didn't build this because I expected to get paid. This is to pay you back for an impossible feat that should never have had to happen." Hadrian shook his head, distress within him. He hadn't done anything…he was a baby, barely over a year old. What could he have done against a "Dark Lord" at a year old?

"What could I do against You-Know-Who at a year old? I would…how am I supposed to accept this? It feels like I'm…like…" Like he was Dudley, like he was a spoiled brat who thought he deserved the world! He wasn't a Dursley, he was better than that. Green eyes fell to the floor in shame; honestly now that he was thinking about it he felt like a fraud entirely. He'd already accepted so much; had an entire vault full of things, gained two servants…Ronan cut off his thoughts.

"We know." That caught him off guard, eyes flicking back up to meet Ronan's warm gaze.

"Yes, every adult knows that it was no doubt something your parents did." That simple statement was enough to have a flurry of emotions rushing through the child, even as the man continued.

"The idea of a baby actually taking down the Darkest Wizard in history is…laughable. It was most likely something your parents did. Your father, James Potter…well, he was a Potter. That might not mean much to you at the moment, but Potters have been incredibly powerful magicals for the entire time the line has existed. He stood against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named three times, alongside your mother, and survived. Potters have been notable members of British Society for as long as British Society has been a thing." Ronan sighed, shaking his head momentarily.

"It could also have just as easily been something your mother did. Lily Potter nee Evans was a brilliant woman, from the moment she entered the Wizarding World until she was taken out of it. She obtained a Charms Mastery less than a year out of school, and was working on her Potions Mastery at the time your family was forced into hiding. Adapting to our culture and our heritage from the moment she was brought into it, Lily Potter was a force to be reckoned with." Hadrian wanted more on his parents, but Ronan moved on.

"Still, at the end of the day, none of that matters in the slightest." Green eyes widened even as the man continued.

"The Wizarding World made a choice after we learned about what happened Hadrian; a choice to honor the living, rather than solely mourn the dead. You lost every bit of your Family to You-Know-Who, and yes…" A hand rose up, stopping Hadrian from speaking.

"So did a lot of people. But all of those people didn't stop the Dark Lord; either you or your parents did. I told you already; He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wiped out your family, he made a point of it after how dangerous the Potters proved to his ambitions. James, Lily, and you were the last three alive. Something about your family stopped him. And we, as a society, decided to do exactly what your parents did, Hadrian." Brown eyes burned into green ones as the man made his point in an undeniable way.

"We chose you, Hadrian. We chose to honor you, the precious orphan responsible for saving each and every one of us. From the eldest of us, wise and grumpy, to the youngest of us, babies mewling for milk. We chose to hold you up as our savior, as a beacon of happier times. We mourned your family…how could we not?" And those brown eyes shaded over with sorrow for a moment before it was shaken off.

"We wept for James and Lily Potter just as much as we grieved for those we lost that were closer; fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, friends…everyone lost something. And in the wake of all that loss, well…is it any wonder that we chose to focus on a good thing? That you lived instead of dying like all the others?" Hadrian couldn't speak, could barely breathe in the face of this onslaught. And Ronan still wasn't done.

"So we chose to do this for you, Hadrian James Potter. We chose to make things for you, to make nice things for you, because we care about you. We want to give you some of the happiness, some of the peace that you have managed to bring to us." He points to the trunk, engraved with Hadrian's name, bearing so many wonderful things within it.

"This Trunk means a lot to me, Hadrian. I've worked on it for a decade, sunk a lot of galleons into it…but it all means nothing if you don't accept it. It's your right, of course…no-one is going to force anything onto you." Ronan sank down to his knees, hands rising up to rest on Hadrian's shoulders in a warm grip; not harsh like his relatives, but gentle and reassuring.

"But it would mean a lot to me, to everyone, if you accept our gifts. Because that's all they are, Hadrian. Gifts; you don't have to do anything with them. You don't have to answer the fan mail, don't have to give out interviews, don't have to use all the things given to you. They're yours, given to you by us, in an attempt to make your life a little better. You don't even truly have to accept them; I can send this to your vault, much like all the other gifts you've received before today, and you can buy a trunk like everybody else…" Brown eyes gazed into green ones, solemn and calm despite the storm in the child, offering only reassurance and care to the boy.

"I'd accept that. It would hurt, I won't lie to you, but if you're not comfortable with it, no one will think twice." And then Ronan stopped comforting the child, and made sure that whatever the filthy muggles had done to their savior would die a painful death, just like they should.

"I know you were raised by muggles…I can see it, could see it before I even knew who you were. And I know that those muggles, those monsters who have treated you so poorly you feel guilty over simply accepting a gift, wouldn't want you to be happy…" Hadrian flinched backwards, only Ronan's hands keeping him from fleeing. The man didn't stop.

"But Hadrian…you're better than them. They don't deserve to deny you what you've earned. The Wizarding World will go to bat for you in a heartbeat, Hadrian, and we want you to have nice things. This trunk is only the beginning of what you deserve." A hand came up, cupping the child's cheek gently, Ronan's voice dropping into a plea.

"Don't let them deny you, Hadrian. Don't let anyone take from you what you deserve to have." With that, he let the child go, moving backwards and standing back up, resisting the urge to smile as Hadrian shook off the effects of his upbringing, ever so slightly, and nodded. Ronan just let himself beam at the boy.

Hadrian was left reeling; it was getting to be a familiar feeling. People wanting him to have nice things…how was he even supposed to react to that?

Well, based off of both Ronan and Ragnok…accept them. He was accepting an entire house…well, apartment? He wasn't sure what it would wind up looking like. He'd never been in an apartment before. Either way, it would belong to him, and he'd be the only one there…alongside his two servants.

That…now that he was thinking about it, that was the strangest thing so far, and it was the reason his mind kept coming back to them. He honestly wasn't sure how that was supposed to work. Or why he'd even agreed…with a massive blush he quickly forced his mind back to the trunk and quite firmly off the servants for the moment.

Well…there was only really one thing he could do if Ronan wouldn't accept money for it, no matter how much Hadrian still wanted to pay for it. The trunk was amazing, and based off of what the man said had a lot more features than he'd seen so far, and Hadrian had no idea how he'd even find something that would improve on this, much less what something would even need to be better than this. So he did exactly what Ronan wanted him to do.

"Oh…okay. Thank you." And with a massive grin Ronan was off, explaining how to make the trunk follow him (just a simple command Hadrian), how it emitted a baseline notice-me-not charm that, while most magicals could see through, would result in no muggle ever noticing it. Wizards and Witches, of course, wouldn't even bother questioning someone having a trunk floating behind them, something which went double for doing so in Diagon Alley. It didn't take long before the happy shopkeep had sent him off, head spinning with new knowledge and a slowly growing sense of self-worth.

It takes a few minutes to figure out where he wants to go next; thinking back to Ragnok's flurry of words in his Vault, the goblin had recommended a Tailor or a bookstore after he got a Trunk. Despite the fact that his head throbbed for a moment at the mere thought of all that reading, he wanted to go to the bookstore.

It was odd…he'd always liked books, despite all the things combining to force him to be unable to read them. Migraines, the Dursleys, his delinquent reputation, Dudley's gang…even his own eyesight, with letters turning blurry after an hour or so of forcing his eyes to focus through his glasses. Books were perhaps the only place where the Dursleys couldn't colour his perceptions, the only place where he could get as much information as he wanted.

So he headed towards Flourish & Blotts; after a quick look through the pouch, it wasn't the only voucher for a bookstore he had, but it was one he both knew where it was and the one that Ragnok had recommended. Besides…there was that one book Ronan had mentioned he should read…what was it? Terror of…of…of the Flight from Death, wasn't it? That sounded right, at least. He was sure somebody could help him find it if he couldn't.

~A Magical World~

Flourish and Blotts was, in a word, magical. A term that Hadrian had never used before under fear of pain, but a word that was seeming to describe seemingly everything wondrous about the Magical World…which made sense, honestly.

Walking into the bookstore was delight; Hadrian had never really known what parchment smelled like before today, but the scent of old books and warm earthy undertones was something that had his body relaxing. It was like the Library back at school; safe and welcoming. He is barely able to return the greeting from the attendant at the door, far too busy looking at the store that was so much bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside.

Seven entire floors of so much stuff! Books, scrolls, lightly bound parchment, pamphlets, journals…any derivative of a book could be found on those shelves, with signs above them showing what they held. Names such as "Transfiguration, Charms, Runes, History, Potions, Herbology, Fantasy, Astrology, Enchanting, Rituals", and so much more were all over, each separated with ranks from Beginner to Master. Books floated from floating shelves into places on the bookshelves…were they returns? New stock? Stuff people didn't want? Hadrian had no way to know. His eyes soon found a set of shelves on the first floor, labelled under a massive sign saying "Hogwarts." Each of the classes Hogwarts offered held a bookcase of their own, shelves labeled by year and by the title of "supplemental." A nod to himself; he'd look at those later. For the moment he needed to find the book Ronan had told him about before he forgot about it. He did, however, take a moment to grab one of the baskets. He was going to get a lot of a books, he was sure, and that would help to keep them.

The history section held an amazing amount of information; Atlantis, Babylon, Greece, Rome, China, Japan, England and so much more, all with so many different texts. Wars and times of peace, economic upturns and downturns; even books on the war with Voldemort. But despite that, there was nothing like what Ronan had recommended. It made him frown…only to jump in shock as a sudden voice came from behind him.

"What seems to be the problem?" Hadrian whirled around with a gasp, catching sight of a pretty young woman with her hands up, palms facing him, and a smile on her face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I just noticed you were frowning up a storm at our history section while I was doing my rounds; any particular reason why?" Hadrian got his breathing back under control as she spoke, and was able to respond after a moment.

"Umm…Terror of the Flight from Death? I think that's the name at least." Brown eyes widened in surprise, that smile turning so very quickly into a frown as she spoke.

"Not really sure how a little first year like you heard about that book, but it's hidden behind the Age of Majority charm that hides the top three floors of the store." Wasn't that a surprise? Ten floors of books rather than just seven…this had already been bigger than the Surrey Library, but now it was ridiculous!

"So, yeah. While I don't really agree with most of what's locked up there, for that book I can understand it, because it gave me nightmares. No-one that isn't a legal adult is going to be able to buy that book; it's a rather…gruesome retelling of the war." Hadrian frowned now. Why would Ronan recommend something he couldn't get?

"I was told it was the best retelling…" A nod from the girl, before she shuddered.

"It is, but…well, there's no real reason for a child to read something like that. Look here; Rise and Fall of the Dark Lords in Recent Centuries. That's a much more kid-friendly book that will give you the basics." Hadrian hummed, before frowning as the reason it had been recommended came back to him.

"Does it explain about the Taboo? How it came about, why it's still upheld?" There was no hiding the flinch, the girl shaking her head as if to banish whatever images that word had summoned, before she frowned down at him.

"Why would you even want to know that? Didn't your parents explain that to you? Where are they anyways, I think I need to have a word with them." Hadrian sighed.

"They're dead. Never knew them." A gasp left her lips, hand coming up to cover them as her eyes widened, but Hadrian continued.

"I was just emancipated today after entering the Magical World. So is there any chance I could get the book? Like I said, it was recommended." The girl shuddered for a moment, coming back to herself after a moment.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean…umm…" Several more seconds of helpless, embarrassed stuttering followed, Hadrian actually finding sympathy returning despite the irritation. He'd been in those shoes quite a few times today. He shook his head, speaking up again.

"It's fine. I've gotten used to it by this point." She bit her lip, worrying at it for several seconds, before shrugging.

"How many floors does this store have?" That was an odd question. He could see seven, but she'd said ten. Which was the right answer?

"Seven?" She shook her head.

"It has ten, and each floor is bigger than it seems. Come on; you can't see the eighth one because you are physically underage, but if you are emancipated by law when I show you the stairs you will be able to walk up them." And that made even less sense, but was so inherently magical that Hadrian couldn't find it in him to complain. He just followed her.

It didn't take long to get there; stairs sucked, but that was nothing new, even if six whole floors from where he'd been on the second was quite a bit more than he'd ever been on before. But then they came to a wall at the end of the final flight; a wall that even as he looked at it disappeared, revealing an entirely new set. The girl could see his shock, causing her to smirk.

"Pretty neat, isn't it." He could only nod in amazement. She spoke again, leaning forward a little as she did.

"Well, go on. If you're actually emancipated you'll be able to walk right up now that you've been guided here by an employee." She didn't say what would happen if he wasn't, but he actually wasn't worried. Ragnok had said he was free, and he believed him.

One foot on the first stair, hand on the bannister, and Hadrian walked up them, sighing internally over the fact that there were even more stairs in this place. The girl gaped despite herself as the boy climbed up without slipping down them or the alarms going off; the boy really was emancipated! Who was he?

"I didn't ask…what's your name?" He stops, watching as she takes the stairs a lot quicker than him, before reluctantly finishing the climb, staring at the massive number of book. This floor had to be at least twice the size of the other floors…how that worked he had no idea.

Magic, of course.

"Hadrian." A slight frown was suppressed before it could take form as the girl guided him to the history section, finding the book with ease. She pulls it out, reluctant, one last warning falling from her lips.

"Are…Hadrian, are you absolutely sure you want this? It's…it's a bloody, gore-filled mess that will give you nightmares. It gave me nightmares and I love horror books. Every fact in this book is proven, but it is the single most brutal retelling in history…primarily because only a few Dark Lords in history ever even came close to You-Know-Who's madness. And the Taboo…that is brutal even by the standards of this book." Hadrian just nodded. He needed to know. It didn't matter how bad it was; he needed to know why he was so famous, why people were so grateful to him over ending this threat that they spent thousands of galleons on him without ever meeting him, without ever even knowing if they'd meet him. If that meant he had to read something that would give him nightmares…well…they'd just be added to the collection. One of which was no doubt going to be waking up back at the Dursley's with all this having been nothing more than an elaborate dream.

"Well, if you're sure, here you go. Unless you need anything else, I will be going back to my rounds; you can feel free to look around some more up here if you want, or head back downstairs. Either one works." Hadrian shakes his head, looking around.

"I think I'm going to stay up here a while; you can go." She nods, leaving even as she tries to puzzle out who he could be. He didn't look like any of the lords she knew of, but that wasn't saying much. There had been a lot of orphans in the last war. She hadn't seen any identifying marks either…he may have had the Potter Hair, but there was no way he was Harry Potter, considering his clothes and his statement that he'd just been brought back into the Wizarding World. Everyone knew Harry was well taken care of by a Magical Family, as it should be. Still, it would bug her for the rest of the day.

Hadrian just slipped the book into his basket and carried on; several other history books were added in that all had…odd covers, to say the least. Several fantasy books with similar covers, and then three separate spell books with the same covers; what was the obsession with naked bodies? He really didn't understand…although if it was anything like kissing had been, he understood a lot more now than he had even six hours ago.

Looking around simply had a lot of stuff he didn't understand around him after that, which made sense. If this was for people who were of age, it probably meant that they'd finished Hogwarts, didn't it? He'd no doubt come back up here in a few years when he knew more about the world. He turned to leave, only to be stopped by the whisper of an older man.

"As Merlin Breathes…Heir Potter…" Hadrian turned to face him, eyes passing over an elegantly dressed man with snow white hair and warm blue eyes smiling down at him. Then he frowns, stopping, shaking his head before speaking again.

"No, my apologies. If you are up here it is likely you are Lord Potter now, isn't it? Lord Potter, welcome to Flourish and Blotts." With shocked eyes Hadrian asked the obvious question.

"Ummm…Thank you? But…how did you know who I was immediately?" Nobody had unless they'd seen his scar, like in the Leaky Cauldron, or been told, like with Ragnok and Ronan. The man just smiled again, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I knew both of your parents quite well, Lord Potter. I can even say with complete honesty that I was both invited to, and took great joy in attending, their wedding." He stepped forward, right hand extending out for a shake. Hadrian held his out as well, surprised by the man's firm grip as well as the fact that he simply shook it. After the day he'd had Hadrian had honestly expected to be latched onto yet again.

"So, Lord Potter, welcome back. It is a privilege and a delight to see you standing in my store on your own for the first time." Blue eyes gleamed with amusement.

"The last time I saw you was not long after you were born; you were in your mother's arms as she stopped in to pick up a few books she'd requested I order. She was so happy to have you. It was, without doubt, the happiest I had ever seen young Lily, and this is coming from the man who saw her smile every time I saw her." Hadrian's eyes closed, trying to imagine it. It was difficult; the only frame of reference he had for what his mother might look like was Petunia, and he couldn't imagine anyone close to that looking happy about him. His attempt was cut off by the man tsking to himself.

"Ah, how rude of me. I am Nicholas Blott, Lord Potter, co-founder and full owner of Flourish and Blott's after my partners unfortunate passing in the war. I do not know if you have been put into contact with the Goblins yet, but I had arranged for a voucher to be delivered to you, and last I had heard they were holding it in trust for you." Hadrian nodded, back on more familiar ground with that. His hand went into the pouch, coming back out with the correct voucher with merely a thought. His eyes ran over the lines once more, just as they had back in the vault.

Heir Potter,

Welcome back to the Wizarding World, young man. My name is Nicholas Blott, current owner of the world-renowned bookstore Flourish and Blott's. It is with great pride and joy that I invite you to my store; allow me to assure you that you shall not pay for a single thing on the day you present this voucher, and you shall walk out with the beginnings of your very own personal Library. I look forward to seeing you.

Nicholas Blott

His eyes turned back to the man, who had smiled just a little bit wider at the sight of the voucher, before bowing his head just a little.

"Indeed, Lord Potter. I see that you have found our adults only section; might I enquire as to what book brought you up here?" Hadrian braced himself for another round of someone trying to deny him information even as he spoke.

"Terror of the Flight from Death." Blue eyes iced over for a moment in grief, hand's clenching into fists before the man took a deep breath and relaxed.

"Apologies, Lord Potter; that book never fails to bring up memories. It is not exactly…appropriate for children your age, but if there is anyone who deserves to know what their sacrifice saved us all from, it is you." A flush of warmth, guilt over judging too quickly, but the man quickly moved on despite that.

"If you have no objections, I would not mind giving you a few recommendations from this floor before we return to the other floors to make a start on your library." Hadrian nodded happily; Mr. Blott was a lot nicer than the girl, more in line with how Ronan had treated him. The man pulled out another stick, his wand, giving it a wave as a dozen books floated seamlessly into the basket, none of which Hadrian had looked at.

"Six of those are rather enjoyable works of fiction, six of them are tomes that will be helpful to you in the future. They're helpful to everyone." That actually made him feel better about it, even as the man turned to head down the stairs.

"Now, Lord Potter, I must ask; how long have you been back in the Wizarding World?" Hadrian took a moment to devote some hatred towards the stairs; he'd just climbed up them all! He still responded quickly, afraid of being rude.

"Umm, just this morning…" A nod from the man.

"I imagine that it has been an incredible adjustment." Hadrian couldn't stop himself from nodding, and Nicholas continued.

"I see. In that case, I assume that no-one has had time to explain either my store or the various subjects that you shall be studying?" Hadrian shook his head before realizing that the man was looking at the stairs, speaking out instead.

"No, it's been…pretty busy today." The Leaky Cauldron, Gringotts, Trunks and Travel Supplies…more information in one day than he'd ever even knew existed. Not that that was saying much, considering he hadn't known that this entire world hadn't even existed. Nicholas nodded to himself, collecting his thoughts as they descended down yet another flight of stairs to the fifth floor. With a gesture towards Hadrian, the man stepped to the railing at the end of the floor. Hadrian stepped up beside him, taking awe in the sight of books floating between floors for a moment before the man spoke.

"Flourish and Blott's is a store that holds ten massive floors of books on every subject that Wizards have ever bothered to write about. The first floor is devoted solely to school subjects, at school levels, from the noble Hogwarts to the simple day school of Calthronos." Hadrian mulled over that word for a moment; Cal-throne-os. That was a strange sounding word.

"The second floor is devoted to Fantasy; as our second most popular selling books, it only makes sense that they are only one floor up. Third and fourth floor are devoted to useful tomes; spell books for various charms, hexes, jinxes, or curses, along with large amounts of reference material for all subjects. The Fifth floor holds world knowledge; information on all countries of the world both magical and muggle. From their history to the layout of their countries, the magical creatures to the magical traditions, the Fifth floor holds it all. The Sixth floor contains theoretical works; books on various ideas, plans, or thoughts that have not been verified yet. In some cases they have been proven wrong, but still have useful points of view expressed within. The Seventh floor holds Mastery level texts. Mastery level texts, Lord Potter, are tombs that are written by Masters for Masters, meaning that anyone who is either not in possession of a Mastery in one subject or another, or not studying for a Mastery in a subject, will be completely lost." Nicholas leaned against the railing, smiling gently down at Hadrian.

"You don't have to remember all of that, Lord Potter. There will be plenty of time for you to learn about all of that if you decide you enjoy reading later on life. It is simply a matter your understanding for today. Now, would you care for an explanation of the subjects you will be taught at Hogwarts as the books arrive, or would you prefer to learn for yourself as you read them?" Hadrian thought for a moment before responding; he didn't know anything. There was only really one answer, no matter how much information had already been shoved down his throat.

"I would like an explanation." Nicholas nodded, smiling just that little bit wider.

"Of course, Lord Potter; knowledge is power in magic. Now, in no particular order…" One hand flicked suddenly, a wooden stick appearing in it as waved in an odd pattern for a moment before he continued. Hadrian looked down, watching as books suddenly started moving.

"Transfiguration, or the art of transfiguring one thing into something else. This is one of the most prominent branches of magic in use today, and that is because it is one of the most useful. Once you have reached a sufficient level of skill, you will be able to turn any one object that you don't need into another item that you do need. A wave of a wand and a thought, and that irritating chair you don't like can be a much more comfortable one. A minimal amount of effort and your desires can be made reality." Hadrian could see it; Petunia's beloved, horrible couch turning into an actual comfortable one. Vernon's destroyed armchair turned into something that Hadrian could actually sit in without falling to the floor.

"Next up is Charms; the most prominent branch of magic in use ever since it was created many centuries ago. If there is something you want done, it can most likely be done with charms. From lifting heavy objects to understanding different languages, charms have a truly astonishing breadth of uses. If you decide to specialize in charms in the future, you will find that there is barely anything that cannot be accomplished by using this particular branch." His mind didn't give him that many ideas here, but he was sure that there was plenty of things it would do in the future.

Books began to stop in front of them, quite a few of them from all floors. Eyes flickered over the titles, headache flaring to life yet again as he forced his eyes to make sense of titles on potions, transfigurations, charms, runes, astronomy, and spells.

"Herbology; the study of magical plants. I am aware that it doesn't sound all that interesting, but it is more than it seems. In this world there are plants that eat living creatures, can heal life-threatening wounds, could force individuals to tell the truth, or even allow someone to have an unnatural amount of luck. Herbology as a class is learning to identify and care for these plants, for multiple reasons. Some people wish to have their own garden of potion ingredients, some wish to cultivate the more dangerous plants, and others still need to avoid the more dangerous plants that appear as normal plants." Hadrian nodded slowly, understanding that. Nicholas continued.

"Astronomy; the observation of celestial objects, space, and the physical and magical universe. Contrary to what the average student believes, the wider galaxy is immensely important in the greater works of magic. There is a reason why the mightiest works of greater magics occur at certain periods of the year, and it is because of the galactic tides of magic. There are so many things we still do not understand, and a massive amount of it is related to the universe at large. You will find, as you grow older, that with study and effort you will be able to observe the very tides of magic, as they wax and wane, and it truly is a delightful thing. So many advances have been made simply by observing the universe, even now, and it is astronomy that teaches you how to do it.

Potions; one of the most varied branches of magic. With a cauldron and the correct ingredients, a young magical can create potions that can heal wounds, cause wounds, bring about fascination, sharpen their wits, clear up their acne, fix their teeth, make themselves unnaturally lucky, cause others to be unnaturally unlucky…the list goes on and on, and I am unsure if anyone knows all the things that can be done. They can make monsters regain their minds, allow for people to survive intense heat or cold, and so much more. It will take effort, discipline, and creativity, but if you decide to specialize in potions you can do incredible things." A frown touched the mans face for the first time since the revelation of what book Hadrian wanted, before Nicholas spoke again.

"I do have a bit of advice for you, however Lord Potter. If you do decide to specialize in potions, please make sure to observe personal hygiene. Potion fumes can cause issues, with your hair especially, causing it to become greasy and stringy." Hadrian nodded, curious as to just why that was pointed out, but was grateful anyways. He hated the feeling of greasy hair; he'd had to live with it far too often when Petunia had decided he wasn't worth wasting water on. Truthfully, if it wasn't for the fact that he had to touch things to clean them, he probably would have never been allowed to bathe at all; he wasted water, after all.

"History of Magic…well, I do believe that that is self-explanatory. Do bear in mind, however, that there are three sides to every story, and there is never any true guarantee which one you are getting. It is why I have made it a point to stock multiple works on every historical period the works represent, even when I most firmly disagree with their beliefs. Bear in mind for the future Lord Potter, for there is one truth that no-one is immune to." Blue eyes, strong and cold and firm, weighted down by decades of wisdom and grief.

"Those who do not learn from history, are doomed to repeat it. It may be boring, it may be tedious, it may be the most traumatizing reading you will ever experience. History is important. There is so much to learn, so much to see, that so many people take for granted. Your family has been in history for a long time, Lord Potter; you made it before you were even old enough to understand." The older man shook his head, blue eyes warming back up as he continued.

"Right, where was I? Ah, yes, the seventh and final of the core subjects that Hogwarts offers. Defense against the Dark Arts." Those words caused a shudder to run down Hadrian's spine, as the tone of the conversation changed once again.

"Defense against the Dark Arts is something that you, alongside Albus Dumbledore, have become the mascots for, as both of you have defeated the most terrible Dark Lords of this century. Truthfully, you are more revered than Dumbledore is, as the Dark Lord he defeated we are still willing to speak the name of, and you did it by breaking a rule of magic. Now, as much as I believe in allowing children the choice to learn what draws their attention, I would advise that you pay close attention in this class." Those blue eyes once again took on the weight of grief and age.

"As much as I would love to tell you that our world is without danger, I will not lie to you. Between magical creatures, monsters without minds, plants that wish nothing more than to eat you, or dark wizards, you will eventually be threatened. Ideally it will not be until you are older, ideally it would be never…but you are an icon, Lord Potter." Nicholas knelt, concern radiating from him, even as he took one of Hadrian's hands in both of his.

"You mean so much to so many people, and, unfortunately, that will make you a target if any other wannabe Dark Lord decides to strike fear into Britain." Another shudder, green eyes widening, and a grim nod from Nicholas.

"I do not say this to worry you; our nation is at peace, and we have every intention of keeping it that way. Still, preparation has never harmed anyone, and it is far better for you to know than to be caught off guard. While the Auror's shall always be on the lookout for danger, dark wizards do not survive by walking around and drawing attention to their plans. It is better to be prepared, and so I would advise that you pay close attention in Defense against the Dark Arts. It may prove to be far too useful to you in the future." With that he let the boy go, standing back up and looking at the collection of books. Hadrian took the distraction as it was, only to be shocked at the sheer number of books that were hovering there. There had been maybe a dozen the last time he'd looked; now there were several dozen. So many he didn't even know where to start…and there were still more floating up!

"Now, those are the seven core classes, which will take up your first two years at Hogwarts, and are required to be taken until after your Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations in your 5th year. There are still several more options, electives that are required for higher education." Nicholas began to explain.

"There are five electives, and once again in no particular order, we shall start with Care of Magical Creatures. Much like Herbology, this is the study of Magical Creatures, learning to identify them, care for them, and if necessary, avoid them. There are an immense number of Magical Creatures in the world; Dragons, Unicorns, Fairies, Goblins, Centaurs, Hippogryphs, Griffins, Hydra, Merfolk, Veela, Sirens, Pegasi, Pooka, Leprechauns, and so many more. They have greatly varying levels of intelligence and magic, but they can all be dangerous under the wrong circumstances." That had Hadrian's imagination sparking; dragons and centaurs all popped into his head, even as he wondered what the others were. But Nicholas gave him no time to think about it.

"Next up is Muggle Studies." That had Hadrian focusing back on the conversation in alarm. Why did they have to study muggles? Hadrian had had more than enough of them; Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley had all ensured that he knew far more than he wanted to about "normal" people. Nicholas noticed it, but moved on. Judging just by his clothes…well, muggles were animals on occasion.

"Muggles outnumber Wizards 10 to 1, Lord Potter, at a minimum. In addition to that, they continue to damage the planet with their technology and filthy industry. They are spreading across the planet as quickly as they can, sucking up every bit of material and every resource they can manage at a terrifying rate. Because of this, Muggle Studies is a requirement for any individual who wishes to help protect our world, and it is a constant struggle to keep it up to date with how quickly they are advancing, especially considering that magic tends to destroy their technology." A sigh.

"Anyways, Muggle Studies is rather important. Following up with that is Divination; the art of divining the world. Every magical can perform this act with some degree of success; one does not have to be a "true" seer that is capable of making unbreakable prophecies in order to tell the future. We make use of this constantly, at least in a business sense; the location of my store and the number of floors were both determined with the help of divination, and mine is not the only one in the Alley that was influenced by it." Firm blue eyes met confused green ones.

"Bear in mind, Lord Potter. Most people believe that Divination is purely the study of the future, and in the beginning it is. Once you have opened your Inner Eye, something that can be accomplished with about twenty hours of work on average, you can begin to divine the secrets of the world. It is why Divination is so tightly linked with Astronomy amongst scholars." Hadrian frowned in thought, even as the man continued.

"Next up is Arithmancy. As you seem to have been muggle-raised, the closest thing I can compare it to is magical algebra." That sounded interesting. Difficult, but interesting. He'd always been good at math…or at least he thought he was. He failed it anyways, since he'd been cheating.

"Arithmancy is the art of creating new spells, understanding old spells, and assigning logic to the multitude of magical phenomena that happen every day. Through immense and difficult levels of math, which if I am honest I have never had any talent for, Arithmancers can bring new rules to magic. They can also occasionally prove old rules wrong. I will warn you, Lord Potter; Arithmancy is an incredibly difficult elective, the second hardest in fact. Despite that it is incredibly rewarding; creating new spells or finding new rules can make entire families wealthy." That didn't hold as much of a draw as it would have this time yesterday. He had more gold (and wasn't that still odd!) then he knew what to do with. Still, it would be worth a try.

"Finally, the fifth is Ancient Runes. Runes are the gateway to imagination in a way that no other branch of magic can compare to. Through the correct combination of runes practically anything can be accomplished. From creating nearly impenetrable wards to making incredibly comfortable clothing and furniture, runes have no solid limit to what they can accomplish. In fact, the only real limits are from the imagination of the carver. It is also the single hardest elective that Hogwarts offers; Runes come in over a dozen different languages, have different rules, and different effects. It requires an immense amount of memorization and creativity, but can reward beyond your wildest dreams." He leaned forward, a sparkle in his eyes as he inclined his head towards the trunk that Ronan had made for him, still floating just behind him and to the right.

"That marvelous trunk of yours, made by Mr. Lestrange, is a very clear example of just what Runes can do in the hands of a qualified carver. That's all the classes, however there are numerous clubs and activities that Hogwarts offers; the book known as "Hogwarts, a History" will cover all of those for you, as the magic in the book keeps those up to date. Now…" With a clap of his hands he moved on.

"Any questions?" Blasted by still more information than he could really absorb, Hadrian just shook his head. He didn't need anymore right now; the slightly glazed look in the boy's eyes had the old man chuckling warmly.

"I know that it is a lot, Lord Potter. Do not worry, there is only a bit more to go." The boy forced himself to focus once more even as Nicholas continue.

"Now, I have arranged for you to have a rather minor collection of tomes to go home with today." Hadrian couldn't stop the disbelief from showing on his face as he looked at the five stacks of books that were each taller than Hadrian. Nicholas ignored it.

"Now, I was unable to give you the full books for all seven years of your Hogwarts Career, primarily because some of the books change every year. However, I have given you all of the books that stay the same, along with all of the more…reputable tomes for each subject from the past three decades that made their way onto the book list. There are also a large number of supplemental tomes for each subject, both core and elective, because I believe that you should be very well informed. Finally, there are numerous texts on historical events, both modern and ancient. I have included in that set a certain history of the Potter Family." Hadrian's eyes flicked to him instantly, a solemn nod as his response.

"You deserve to know about your ancestors, Lord Potter. I am quite certain that you shall make them proud." Warmth spread through him, like nothing he'd felt…no, that wasn't true. It reminded him of the feeling he'd gotten when he put on the Family Ring.

A bit of something Hadrian couldn't identify entered Nicholas's eyes, and he wasn't sure whether to be nervous or not. The man had been so nice to him so far…

"Now, while you will not be paying for any of this today in galleons, I am afraid that my voucher may have led you to a bit of a false conclusion, for there is a price tag attached to all these books." Hadrian's head tilted slightly, confused and slightly worried. Nicholas just smiled, gentle and kind, before speaking again.

"The price is this; if you have any questions about anything here, or if you require any additional books, or even if you are simply lonely and just wish to talk, you write me a letter." Blue eyes, firm and so very kind, windows to the soul of a gentle grandfather.

"I am something of an authority on most subjects, although as I mentioned earlier I am absolutely useless at Arithmancy, and as such I can answer quite a few extra-curricular questions for you. I am also more than willing to simply keep in touch over the course of the year…" A bit of sadness entered those eyes.

"I lost a lot of family to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as did you. Another person to write, somebody to keep the loneliness away…that is a gift that cannot be underestimated." Touched, with another flare of warmth surging within him, he nods, and Nicholas turned to face the books. Once more the wand came out, tapping once on each stack, before he spoke once more.

"If you would be so kind, Lord Potter, I would appreciate it you would open your trunk; I can add these to your library with no issue. While Mr. Lestrange ensured that nobody would normally be able to put anything into your trunk without your permission, he has also made it rather intuitive, and if I am feeling it correctly, your intent will allow me enough access to levitate these into your library for you." Yeah, he could do that…if he could remember which compartment was the library one.

First was for…general storage, Ronan had said. Second was the school compartment…third was the library! Although…how many of these were school books?

"Umm…how many of these are school books?" A wave of the wand and seven stacks separated out; seven stacks out of the now twelve that were there. Where had the other seven come from? When had they shown up?

"These seven stacks are." A nod, and a command were next.

"Second compartment." He couldn't help watching as the racks and shelves appeared; the magic was made all the better as books floated themselves onto the correct shelves, something that had him gasping even as he watched it. Books slid seamlessly into place, all correct and sorted even as they did. And yet, in less than a minute, it was over, with Nicholas speaking again, unfazed by the display.

"Where would you like the other five, Lord Potter? Please bear in mind, the books in your basket will be going in this one as well." Hadrian blinked; he'd forgotten about it entirely. Shaking his head even as the racks retracted, he spoke once the trunk thunked closed.

"Third compartment." More shelves and racks appeared, and even more books floated onto them, quickly and easily. His eye caught "Terror of the Flight From Death", watching the snarling, red-eyed man on the cover vanish in between two other history books. In just a minute it was finished, and the compartment withdrew into itself once more, closing entirely with another gentle thunk. The old man turned back to Hadrian once more.

"I would love to spend some more time for you today, Lord Potter, but unfortunately I was in the middle of some parchmentwork when the wards informed me of your arrival. Remember; if you ever have the desire, feel free to write me. It doesn't matter how simple, or how complex." Hadrian nodded, Nicholas bowing at the waist this time, rising with one last statement.

"It was lovely to meet you, Lord Potter. I wish you a pleasant day." The child could barely stutter out a returned pleasantry before the man was gone, and he was left struggling to absorb yet another outpouring of information. What time was it? Was it at least close to 8 p.m.? A question to one of the other employees floating around the floor had the answer surprising him; it was barely three! There were still nearly five whole hours before he could stop thinking for a day…at least he hoped so. He didn't know how many more information dumps he could handle; it was all starting to blur together.

He dug out a couple of vouchers from the pouch, wondering where else he could go. One for Quality Robes caught his eye, but he really didn't want to go clothing shopping at the moment. He'd been forced to accompany Petunia for the sole sake of carrying bags, and had been locked in the cupboard afterwards because he'd dared to drop one of the twenty bags he'd been forced to carry. Another caught his attention after a moment; Scrolling Ink. It was an interesting enough name for him to read the letter.

Hadrian James Potter,

My name is Edward Taylor, owner and founder of Scrolling Ink, Diagon Alley's foremost stationary store. I know, doesn't sound very glamorous, right? Not many kids want to go to a stationary store; not too many adults either. Still, it is an incredibly important part of life. Note-taking, schoolwork, budgeting, all of that and so much more needs parchment, quills, and ink. As I'm sure you're beginning to understand, I, just like practically everybody else in Diagon Alley, have a collection of gifts for you. You are more than welcome to show up at any time I am open to collect.

~Edward Taylor

It was a lot more relaxed than Nicholas Blott was; the older gentleman had a slow, proper way of speaking that had left Hadrian feeling a bit stupid, if truth be told. It was also more relaxed than Ronan's…and with this parchment and quill, even if he didn't understand what was wrong with paper and pencil, he might be able to write down some of the stuff that had been stuffed into his head. His eternal headache had only been made worse over the past couple hours.

A quick question to the same helper as earlier had him backtracking to Griffin Quarter; it took a little bit to find the building, a refined brick building of dark red, matching the colors from the other buildings in that section of the quarter. Entering had him looking around in surprise and awe; even walking in it was clear that this wasn't a place for beginners. The smell of parchment was quite nice, he would admit, but he was rather intimidated by the flash of jewel-encrusted quills and ink bottles; even more so by journals of bright colors and flashing gems. The one in the center that seemed to be made of pure gold was the one that made him most worried; he was afraid to even touch it.

"Yes, hello? Can I help you?" A cool voice washed over him, Hadrian turning to see a young seeming man, with brown hair and brown eyes, dressed in fine robes with a strange emblem on the chest. Hadrian held out the voucher, unsure how to react in the face of a completely different environment than what he expected. The man's face lit up, delight spreading across it.

"Ah, Heir Potter, a delight to have you in my store. I am Edward Taylor; just as the letter says I own Scrolling Ink. How long have you been in Diagon?" Quiet and shy was the response, drawing back into the overlarge clothes in the face of such blatant wealth. He definitely wasn't comfortable with it; before today any form of wealth had been a sign of danger for him.

"Ju…just today." A bright smile was his first answer before he spoke.

"And you visited my store on your first day back! I'm delighted. So, you want to jump straight into your gifts, or do you have any questions?" Despite himself, despite the nervousness caused by all the wealth, Hadrian did have a question.

"Umm…yes, I do. Why do wizards and witches use quills?" Edward's eyes closed, smiling wide.

"This is going to sound a bit weird, Heir Potter, but could you please ask that again?" Confused, Hadrian obliged.

"Why do wizards and witches use quills?" The smile only widened.

"One last time, please." Even more confusion.

"Why do wizards and witches use quills." A smile that couldn't be removed, brown eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Do you know, Heir Potter, that I have run this store for 37 years, and in that entire time I have not been asked that question once. Not by the pure-bloods, whose wealth and pretenses inspire them to shop here. Not by the half-bloods, who want to fit in. And never, not once, by a muggle-born or muggle-raised, the ones who would need to know that information more than anyone else. Now, strap in young Heir Potter, for this is an answer that will take a minute to explain." Comforted in a strange way by this, Hadrian obeys the motions as he sits down alongside the man in the fancy robe, ignorant of the flick of a wand that would ensure nobody would interrupt them.

"Now, to get to why wizards need to use quills, or hand-made fountain pens…" A wink, and then he continued.

"You need to learn a bit about magic. Now, as we understand it, Magic is the energy of life. All living things emit it, all living things contain it, from the humblest little plant to the largest dragon. The difference between magical and non-magical is the amount of magic contained within them. For example, we have three levels of humans. First is the Muggle; as you know, these are people who have no sensitivity to the tides of magic. They can't feel in nature, can't feel it in space, can't feel it within themselves, and cannot manipulate it at all. They have no will, no belief, and no imagination. As a result, they create things that pervert the natural order, but more on that later. Second are Squibs; people who have just enough magic to see the world as it is, and to manipulate some of the lesser fields of intensive magic. And then, finally, there are wizards and witches. Amusingly enough, these traits manifest in magical creatures as well." Another smile, a laugh.

"Imagine a unicorn that isn't magic. A dragon that can't see itself!" A helpless giggle left Hadrian's lips. Edward winked again before continuing.

"Little bit of history for you; all those muggle stories of dragon slaying? Some of those actually happened, with muggle dragons! It's an idea that still makes me laugh when I think about it." Muggle dragons…how did that even work? It didn't make any sense…Hadrian thought that Dragons were magical creatures anyways. How could they be muggles? He shook it off as Edward continued.

"Now, back to the point. Magic is the energy of life, and we mean that. Wizards and witches can live for centuries, depending on their magical potential. Now, since it is an entirely natural thing, it doesn't play well with the unnatural manufactured goods of the muggles. Basically, the muggle manufacturing process nowadays takes the magic out of things." A tilted head made it clear Hadrian didn't understand what he meant.

"I know, it sounds silly, but it's true. Tell me, Heir Potter, have you ever heard the phrase "Home-cooked meals taste the best?" Or, perhaps, "Gifts you make yourself mean more?" Either way, the point stands; even muggles, who can't sense these things, know that, because those are their sayings. They use machines that are mass-produced to mass-produce everything now. So, to break down the process; all living things have magic, yes, and at the same time, non-living things have a magic all their own. When people work to make something by hand, it maintains that magic; enhances it. Using magic to make it tends to have a similar, if diluted effect." The man grew serious now, sober and grim.

"The process of making something is a wonderful thing, Heir Potter. I can feel the magic from that trunk of yours, can feel the care and devotion that went into it. Mr. Lestrange poured his heart and soul into it, with grief and care and obsession and healing. The muggles have, in the past century, destroyed that. When humans are taken out the equation, when they stop caring about their work and begin to only do it to make ends meet, the magic, the life goes out of it. It's one of several reasons why most muggle technology tends to…not work, to put it lightly, around magical beings. The more cold metal, the term we use for metals that have been smelted by the more…uncaring muggle methods, but the more cold metal is used in a material, the worse it interacts with magical beings.

Now, speaking on a purely factual level, 11-year-olds don't really need to use quills right off the back. Pens, despite having small parts, don't have really finicky parts, so ambient magic typically takes long enough to sink into in to get through the ink cartridge; buying a new pen swaps it out quickly enough that there is no issue. Depending on the young magical in question, however, any time on average from the middle of their third year to the beginning of their fourth, the magical aura of the young wizard or witch begins to affect the parts, culminating in busted cartridges, exploded pens, or in a few cases…crippled hands." A memory flashed in his mind, Hadrian speaking up as it ran through his mind.

"Hold on…that's happened to me." Edward frowned.

"You've had a pen explode in your hand before?" A nod, causing the older man to sigh.

"In that case, Heir Potter, you are going to be a rather powerful wizard once you have finished Hogwarts. Accidental magic isn't usually enough to trigger an issue with small objects." The frown vanished, but a thoughtful gleam remained.

"In regards to pencils, well, they are even worse. Blatant mass production and a complete lack of human interaction makes them feel dead to anyone who bothers to practice their magic at all in first year; nobody can tolerate them after second year. Paper is much the same; trees grown just to be pulped, with no care as to their life or even it's quality." Hadrian frowned; this didn't really make much sense to him. They couldn't use paper and pens because of magic? That felt so odd…but who was he to judge? Edward sees this, a gentle smile spreading across his face.

"Don't worry, Heir Potter. It will come in time. You will likely feel it after first year if you encounter any muggle creations. Now…" He clapped, before his wand appeared and parchment floated over. Thick and scented, like no muggle paper he'd ever seen.

"Wizarding stationary, however, is quite naturally leagues above anything muggle. With everything made either by hand or assisted by magic, with the former naturally being better than the latter, the quality is automatically better. When time and attention is paid to a creation by a master of a craft, the product is always going to wind up better, and we make a point to make all of our goods as high-quality as possible. Parchment is a much more natural substance, without the additives that muggles put in, and with it being made by magic and by hand it feels better once you start exploring magic. On top of that, when you use any form of ink on parchment, it will never bleed through like on 90% of paper; a number that is actually still growing." Hadrian had been looking at the parchment the entire time, running his hand over the smooth feeling material. There was something he did have a question for.

"Umm…how do you keep the writing straight?" It makes Edward chuckle, before the wand appears again and he taps the parchment; before disbelieving eyes perfectly straight lines spread across the parchment, and on the left were small numbers.

"The numbers on the left are the measurements of the sheets; often in Hogwarts you will be writing assignments based off of inches. Now; I'm aware that I can be a bit flighty, so was there anything you didn't understand, or don't think you'll understand with time?" The second part meant that Hadrian didn't have another question; his headache was bad enough, and he'd come to avoid a lengthy explanation. So he shook his head, Edward clapped his hands, hopping up even as he gestured for Hadrian to stay sitting.

"Keep your seat, Heir Potter; I'm just going to get your gifts. I've kept them in the back; they were designed for you, didn't want anybody getting jealous." The man was gone before Hadrian could so much as smile in gratitude; just a minute later he was back, with so much stuff.

Three cases of beautifully crafted fountain pens; he only even recognized them because Vernon had been given one by Grunnings for an anniversary. And then Hadrian looked closer, gasping at the sight. The first set of ten was made of wood, ten different colors and each beautifully carved with glittering symbols. The second were metal, with symbols that didn't glitter; elegant and smoother than the wood, less ostentatious, but more refined than any muggle pen that Hadrian had ever seen. The final set of ten were simultaneously the best, and for the child, the worst. Each was made of metal, embedded with glyphs that were gems. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires; things that Hadrian had never seen in person before today gleamed in the light, polished to perfection. The three sets floated in the air before him, even as the man spoke.

"Well, this is the first part; one or two pens. What do you think?" Stunned, watching the glittering and gleaming, eyes tracing the symbols that were more elegant than any form of writing he'd ever seen, and spoke honestly.

"I think they're way too beautiful to write with…" Edward laughed, eyes shining with delight.

"Good, good! That's the reaction I was hoping for. Don't worry though; it would prove incredibly difficult to cause any damage to these." A pen of his own appeared in his hand, the nib shining in the light.

"I actually prefer fountain pens myself; nowhere near as fragile as a quill, able to hold enchantments a lot better, and they can hold a lot more ink than a quill. Writing is pretty much the same, for the most part, but over all a fountain pen is less maintenance-heavy. I can assure you of one thing, however…" Brown eyes hardened, the pen twirling for a moment before it vanished.

"None of my pens will ever break from you writing with them. Nothing you will do normally, and most of what you will go through in life, will cause any of these pens to break. They are automatically cleaned as soon as your fingers leave them for longer than sixty seconds, and you will never have to worry about dropping them. In fact, you physically can't drop them. On top of that, after you dip one into a bottle of ink once, you won't have to dip it into another one until that bottle is empty." The look of confusion on Hadrian's face has him smirking.

"You can't do that with quills; not enough material to enchant. But, with a little magic, the pen does all the hard work for you. Combined with that nifty little ability are the additions of smooth writing; you'll never use more ink than you intend, along with the fact that you will never have an issue with blots or large dots. Now, last major point about the pens; you'll find the grips are custom fitted to your hand, and always will be. No other pen, quill, or writing instrument you might use will ever be as comfortable and perfect for your hand as these…unless somebody as talented as me uses the correct divination rites to custom-build it to your hand. Now, next up…" A clap of the hands has a large amount of ink bottles appearing; small, black, about the size of a 60ml bottle in the muggle world. Strangely enough, it was the size that had been gifted to Vernon with his pen. As they lined up before him he could see the symbols on these, surprising him.

"No pen is complete without ink, and as this is my store, and my gift to you, this is the finest ink in the magical world." Confused, Hadrian questions that.

"What does that mean? Ink is ink…right?" Edward "tsk's" in mock disapproval, shaking his head even as he spoke.

"Of course not, Heir Potter. Nothing in this world is equal, and ink is no exception. Normal, boring, muggle ink is made out of a variety of artificial ingredients that they either create or pulp into unrecognizable forms. It is flat, dull, and as cold as everything else they do. Normal, boring, magical ink is made from a magical plant; it spits out the base form as a self-defense mechanism, imbued with life and energy, and wizards process that by purifying it with magic, and then perhaps changing the color with another ingredient. While it is certainly better than muggle ink, it still isn't quite as good as high-quality ink. Which, if you were wondering, comes from magical squids. Once again, it is collected, purified, and then perhaps color changed." And why was ink from a squid better than ink from a plant? As if the man had read his mind, he spoke.

"Now, ink from living creatures is better than ink from living plants is better for one reason; it holds more magic. That doesn't mean much to you yet, but it will in the future. A lot of things are done with ink, and the more magic can be held within the ink the better all of those things are. It looks better, writes better, feels better, lasts longer, is harder to remove, and other things I can't even describe to you until much further along your magical education." Hadrian nodded slowly, letting it sink in.

"After you go from the normal magical squids, you get the highest quality ink sold in Britain; ink from the kraken." A child's head snapped up, green eyes wide with shock in the face of the man's grin.

"Oho, I take it you've heard of that particular beast then?" A nod; a massive squid that destroyed boats with ease, large enough to rip galleons apart with a mere two tentacles. The kraken was a nightmare in every tale it was in.

"You'll find that the legends are, if anything, understated. They can live for…well, truthfully, we're not quite sure how long they can live if not killed by something else. The only domesticated one is well over a thousand years old, and is still kicking. They never stop growing either; the one that we get our ink from actually had to undergo a ritual to stop it's growth, otherwise it would have wound up outgrowing the massive lake it's in." Hadrian wanted to see it. It wasn't even a want he could help; he just did.

"As you can imagine, a Kraken is an immensely magical creature, with ink that holds more natural power to it than anything else we have managed to find. The Founders of Hogwarts found one, domesticated it, and currently it lives in the lake at Hogwarts as nothing more than the friendly giant squid." One of the most terrifying creatures he'd ever heard of lived at Hogwarts, and wasn't even dangerous?

"Hogwarts sells the ink it milks from it's pet kraken for large amounts of galleons every year; it's one of the many ways it makes money." Hadrian was still mulling over the fact that Hogwarts had a kraken to pay that part any attention, at least until Edward spoke again.

"In these sixty bottles is the entire production capacity of the giant squid over three years." That yanked his mind back to the present; shocked eyes once again found smug brown ones. The boy didn't even want to think about how much that would have cost.

"If it makes you feel better, I didn't actually spend anything on that. Upon learning that it was going to be a gift for you, Hogwarts donated it." It didn't make him feel better at all, but Edward continued.

"Also, each of those bottles holds a lot more than they seem. Truth be told, if you manage to use up even a single bottle in your entire time at Hogwarts I will be surprised. Anyways, 50 of those bottles hold black ink, five red ink, and then one each for green, blue, purple, gold, and silver." Green eyes widened, but Edward just moved on.

More things floated over; numerous stacks of parchment and even more books. Hadrian's eyes followed them before Edward explained.

"Here are 10 reams of parchment, or 5000 sheets. You'll find that, despite their size, they will work perfect for any Hogwarts assignment, no matter the length assigned. Touch the back of the pen to it, or a wand, or even a finger, and you can scroll up and down the parchment. I've also given you journals; 30 of them, to be exact. And no, it's not one for each pen." Hadrian couldn't stop the giggle.

"I don't know what classes you'll take in the future, that's not a kind of divination I'm good at, so I simply assigned one work journal for each subject. So, twelve of them, each labelled." They floated up, gold lettering of each Hogwarts subject on them.

"The other are for whatever you decide to use them for; I figured I would provide one extra for each class, three for self-study, and three for any projects or stories, or anything really. Like I said; whatever you decide to use them for. The journals all have the standard enchantments; 10,000 sheets of parchment to a book, each one can hold 26 inches of writing, intense privacy charm…should probably explain that a bit. You are the only one who will be able to open them, and the only one who can read them, and unless you give somebody permission only you will be able lift them. Back to the features, you can also set a page to be a divider for different subjects, or as a simple attention grabber." The journals finally turned enough that he could see the covers rather than the spines; his breath caught in his throat at his name, embossed in silver on the black covers, in the prettiest handwriting he'd ever seen. That…that actually brought up something he wasn't sure about, but Edward was already moving on, and answering the question he wanted to ask.

More things floated forward as the journals joined the pens and ink bottles; three separate sheets, each with a different style of writing. The first seemed normal, the second fancy, and the third had the same lettering style of the journals. Edward spoke once more, explaining this part.

"I'm going to need you to make a choice for this. Writing with a magical pen is a bit different than writing with a muggle one; the adjustment would be even worse if you were actually learning to use a quill. So, I have three ways for you to learn how to write, and as you can see, each is more time-consuming and complex than the next. In case you were wondering, your mother learned the most complex one, while your father learned the simplest. It truly doesn't matter which you pick; each one will ensure that your writing is legible, and will train your hand to write as much as you will after you become a Lord." He wanted to learn both now…

In truth though, there was only one option. Magic was wonderful; yes, it would take more effort, but he wanted everything to be as wonderful as today had been. He lifted his hand, pointing to the third option, with the same beautiful style as the journals. Edward smiled, wand showing up again as he waved it a few times before saying "Noble Calligraphy." He then continued on, even as one last journal floated over.

"This journal is a bit different than the others; you will only be able to write in that form in this one. It's a lot more heavily enchanted, focusing more on how you write rather than privacy. It's…difficult to explain without referring to a lot of terminology you don't have the knowledge to understand yet. Basically, you can write whatever you want in this journal, but no matter what pen you use, every letter will come out like that calligraphy. It will be slow going; you'll be learning an entirely new way of writing, to the point where it will entirely replace your current style. Your hand will also hurt quite a bit as you learn." A slight smirk before he finished.

"You'll find that the more you write in this journal, the quicker you'll teach yourself to write that way, and you'll also begin to see it replace your current writing. Also, interesting note, this magic works with either hand; you can teach yourself to write with both hands if you would like. Now, it's all yours; might want to put it all in your trunk though. There's…a decent amount of stuff here." Hadrian nodded…and now had to remember what compartment to put all of this in. Second was the school trunk…but the twelfth was his "office". A moments thought had him calling out for the second; it had been the one with racks for quills and ink.

The racks appeared, the desk floating off to the side as the shelves and racks took center stage. Hadrian couldn't stop the giggles as the books, bottles, and then boxes of pens floated towards him and Hadrian could place them where they belonged. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion as something strange happened, however; everything fit perfectly. Even odder; there were two racks for ink, but the labels fit perfectly for where they all went…even the colors that weren't black. It was also the exact amount of space on the racks as there were bottles, and the fine velvet shelves had spaces for exactly thirty pens…that were the exact size and shape for the pens he'd been given. Edward laughed at his expression.

"You'll find, Heir Potter, that several of the store-owners in Diagon collaborated on your gifts. Myself, Ronan, and a few others all worked together to make everything work together, and ensure that we weren't giving you the same things. There was also a collection of shop owners who just sent their gifts to Gringotts." Hadrian nodded to himself.

"However, part of it is also the magic. You could put other pens in there and they would fit it perfectly; same with the ink bottles. You'll find that no matter how much you put in this trunk, it will fit; Ronan was quite proud of it. He simply talked to me so that what I had would be visible, so you could always see them." The man watched the trunk close back up; he couldn't deny, Ronan had done a remarkable job. Edward wouldn't mind a trunk like that, even if it was just that one compartment.

"Alright, do you have any questions for me, Heir Potter?" Hadrian was quick to shake his head; his head had yet to stop throbbing. He just hoped that any other places he would go wouldn't dump more information on him. Edward finished up with one final statement.

"If you decide you do at some point, feel free to owl me. Any letter addressed to me, Edward Taylor, will be able to make it to me by owl. Don't even feel limited to just questions; if you'd just like to talk, feel free to send me a letter." Hadrian nodded obligingly.

"In that case, have a good day, Heir Potter." Hadrian returned the well-wish, leaving the shop with the trunk once again floating behind him.

Hadrian sighed, massaging his head. Was there anywhere he could go in the alley that wouldn't have a massive amount of information dumped on him? The thought of the clothing store popped up in his head again; surely that wouldn't have any issues? It should also take a while too; Scrolling Ink would have taken an hour, if he was lucky. He pulled out the voucher, yet another letter.

My Dear Heir Potter,

I am Madame Rose Brown, Owner and Founder of Quality Robes, the foremost tailor in the world at this point in time. My store can be found in Griffin Quarters; simply walk down the main road in that quarter and my shop shall be on your left. I am sure that, as a young man, you find clothing incredibly boring, and that is perfectly okay. I am, however, offering something a bit different than your average wizarding clothing experience, where your measurements are taken for robes and you are directed towards other clothing in your size. Instead, I am going to tailor your entire wardrobe in the highest quality materials that can be used. I give you my personal assurance that these clothes shall be the most comfortable you have ever worn. Simply present yourself at my store and ask for me, for I shall be attending to you personally. I also recommend that you have at least an hour of free time, for it shall require a minimum of that hour to ensure that you can walk out with clothes that are suited for you.

Looking forward to seeing you.

Madame Rose Brown

She seemed nice enough, although he was wondering why everybody except for Ronan had insisted on calling him Heir Potter, or his actual title of Lord Potter. Was it really that important? He shook his head, pushing it from his mind, instead wandering back to the entry to Griffin Quarter. It only took a few minutes before he found Quality Robes; a rather lovely building. Walking in had him immediately feeling more out of place than even Scrolling Ink had; the building was full of attractive people in fine clothing. It didn't take long before one of the pretty young women saw him, a frown curling her lips as judging eyes look over the baggy, tattered clothes. After a moment, however, she removed the frown, approaching him with a blank face and disapproving eyes.

"Can I help you with something?" Mustering up his courage, Hadrian nodded.

"Umm…yes, I'm here to see Madame Brown." The frown returned, far sharper than before.

"I don't know what, exactly, makes you think that Madame Brown has the time to see…you, but I can assure you that she is an incredibly busy woman. If you are here for clothing, I can assist you with that, but I would like to inform you beforehand that Quality Robes only tailors Dress Robes and Dress Clothes, and you should probably spend your money on a proper set of clothing before coming here." Hadrian flinched back, knowing quite well that his clothes were terrible. Dudley was far from kind on his outfits, and for as long he could remember he'd had only those tattered and stretched clothes.

The ring on his finger pulsed warmly, surging through him with eagerness as it restored his confidence. One deep breath, two…Hadrian pulled out the voucher, reading it again, before looking at the woman.

"It says here that she wants me to ask for her." The frown only deepened, the woman shaking her head.

"Do you really expect me to believe that Madame Brown wrote a letter to a child, a child wearing the poorest excuse for clothes I've ever had the displeasure of seeing?" More warmth flared through him, Hadrian staring her down.

"It's right here." He held it out, showing it to her. She looked at it, reading it, going paler and paler as her eyes followed the words. Her stutter when she'd finished did something to him, something he didn't understand.

"Ah…I…I'm sorry, Heir Potter! I didn't…I didn't know…I'll go get her immediately!" Hadrian was left frowning as the woman walked off, just slow enough to not be running. What was she suddenly afraid of? She went from so very mean to terrified in just a few seconds…and why did he enjoy it so much? The pulse of warmth from his Family Ring was the only thing that made him feel better after that. He didn't want to turn out like Vernon…

Less than five minutes later the young woman comes back out, a gorgeous woman walking bout behind her. Assuming that this was Madame Brown, Hadrian looked her over. A robe cut finer than any he'd seen so far, even in this store, was tight against a body that held curves comparable to Victoria's, even if Madame Brown's body didn't force his eyes to follow it. A face that was quite attractive, with a warm and doting smile as she looked at him.

Rose Brown swept up to the Savior of the Wizarding World with a smile and happy hands; she knelt before him, engulfing the emaciated child in tattered clothes that were a dozen sizes too big for him in a tight hug, her lips pressing to his cheek in a kiss. Hadrian went red, heat flaring up in him so quickly his vision started to spin.

"Welcome back, Heir Potter. It's a delight to see you." Lips painted red whispered in the child's ear, planting another kiss on his cheek a moment later before she stood.

"Come along, Heir Potter; we need to get you out of those…monstrosities, so that we can start working on some proper clothes for a wonderful young man like you." A soft, warm hand slipped against his, brown eyes icing over as she glanced at the young woman who'd caused such a problem. Being rude to Harry Potter, honestly! You could see the scar! Rose had been able to see it from the moment she'd walked out. The girl would be lucky if Rose could smooth this over; Harry Potter going to the papers over terrible service could ruin anyone. She was fairly certain that old Ollivander would be knocked out of business if Harry Potter went to the Daily Prophet and complained! Either way, unless this went very well, the girl was going to be out of a job after today. Merlin knew though; Harry Potter would not be leaving her store with a bad impression!

Hadrian just followed the woman, more than happy to leave behind the main floor. With so many people and so many nice things…well, he didn't feel comfortable. He knew he didn't fit in. Madame Brown directed him into the back, a sign showing that they were "Private Booths". Changing Booths, maybe? He'd never needed to use one, but Petunia had used quite a few back when he'd been forced to accompany her shopping. They passed the girl on the way over; for some reason she took great care not to catch his eye, making herself quite busy. He wondered why.

"Right back here are the Private Booths; they're for important customers like you who warrant a bit of, well, privacy." She sent a happy smile at him, avoiding the awkward moment, even as he nodded. Bustling him back there, she was quick to direct him to the finest of them, the one she'd had to have custom made for a set of incredibly picky Russians who had demanded everything to be just so, and had paid for it to be done that way.

Hadrian couldn't help the gasp that left his lips as Madame Brown pushed him into a room with gold plated mirrors and a reasonable sized arm chair; it wasn't like the ones in his trunk, which were massive and blatantly inviting. No, this one seemed more fitting for a Lord, with deep red cushions and gold trim, a massive mirror covering every angle. Before the chair was a small pedestal; a place to measure, perhaps? His thoughts were cut off as the woman spoke, voice taking on a softer tone.

"Well, now, shall we begin, Heir Potter?" She turned, clapping her hands once, before she looked at him.

"Now, I do have to ask…what, exactly, are you wearing?" His eyes found the floor rather than the kind smile of the woman; heels clicked on the floor as she stepped forward quickly. Green eyes widened as that pretty face was brought into view once more, hands gently cupping his face.

"Hey, hey…it's alright. You're going to walk out of here in a much better outfit; tomorrow you'll have enough to last you until I can have your entire outfit perfect for you, so that you'll never have to wear things like these again. I'm just asking because the idea of my savior dressed in clothes like these is a personal offense, and I wish to take whoever required you to wear them to task." Flushing red from the way her thumbs were stroking his cheeks, his voice was quiet, even as she made sure he saw nothing but sympathetic eyes and kindness.

"I…up until today I lived with my muggle relatives." The gasp wasn't faked; before Hadrian knew it he was engulfed in another hug, face buried in a warm shoulder as she whispered in his ear.

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. No one should ever before forced to live with muggles, even assuming that they treat you kindly." Green eyes teared up, one hand running through black hair as the other rubbed a back; she frowned, realizing that this went further than she thought.

"You said until today, Heir Potter. Does that mean you don't have to worry about those…beasts, who would starve the savior of the world?" The boy flinched, Rose just squeezing him tighter for several minutes before he managed to speak.

"No…I mean…I'm not going to live there anymore. The Goblins arranged for me to gain my Lordship, and I'm going to be staying at a property I own." She pulled back from the hug, beaming happily at him.

"That's good, Heir…no, sorry, that's fantastic Lord Potter. I'm so happy for you." She kissed his cheek again, still beaming at him, taking note of his flush. He wasn't used to positive attention; Rose wasn't above taking advantage of that to ensure he left quite happy with her service today. Besides…the innocent savior of the world…well, if anybody deserved to be lavished with attention, it was him. So her hand stroked his hair, the flush flaring up as she did, and she spoke some more.

"Alright, Lord Potter, as I'm sure you know, you're here for me to prepare your clothes. And to do that, I'm going to need to take these horrible clothes off of you. Do you mind letting me?" Hadrian blushed harder, shaking his head, which she took as permission.

Warm, soft hands hooked under the hem of his shirt; soft flesh trailed up his body as she pulled the shirt up. As the fabric blocked his face, and his view, Rose took the opportunity to look down, gazing on the clearly visible ribs. A dark frown crossed her face, fury in her eyes, realizing that those muggles were infinitely worse than she had thought.

It was one thing to be poor, clothing their savior with trash that didn't even belong on the homeless. It was an entirely different situation when their savior, Harry Potter, the boy who saved the bleeding world, was starved and beaten! Anger hotter than anything she'd ever felt surged through her, even greater than the few times she had seen the way her brother treated her niece. She forced herself to calm down as his shirt finally cleared his head; she didn't need him to feel concerned about her anger.

Hadrian just blushed, heavily, as the beautiful woman lowered herself enough to untie his shoes; the gentle smile reassured him, no matter how odd it felt. One hand gently grabbed his ankle, lifting it up just enough to pull off the shoe, before doing the same to the other. The child's eyes flicked over to a wall when her hands found the button of the over large pants, however, held up only by an old and worn belt that was wrapped twice around his waist; he was so embarrassed he couldn't stand to look at her.

"Lord Potter, look at me, please." One hand came up, warm and soft flesh resting on his cheek and directing his face back down to look at her, a gentle smile on her beautiful face. The flush only ran deeper.

"Do not be ashamed, Lord Potter. Those monsters you stayed with can never touch you again, and you will not leave today with these terrible clothes. While they will not be perfectly tailored to you as they should be, you will be wearing things much more befitting of your station. I know it's difficult to believe; you've had a hard life, my Lord." Her head tilted forward, forehead landing gently against his chest. She could feel him struggling to breathe, not sure whether he should or not, and she had to fight to hide her frown. Their savior, her savior, should not be this way.

"Harder than you've ever deserved. Everything you had was taken from you before you could even remember it, everything you should have grown up with was denied you, for reasons I don't know. But I do know this, Milord." The flush amplified as she pressed her lips to his chest in a heartfelt kiss, one that held every ounce of emotion she had. To think, she'd come out there furious because this child could close down her store with ease…now she was even angrier with the girl. Treating a damaged child like that was bad enough, but their damaged savior, all because she was too stupid to look up?

She wouldn't have a job anymore after today, that was for damn sure.

Kisses were trailed up his chest, her arms wrapping around him in a tight hug, before she finally looked up at him once more, the cute child completely overwhelmed.

"You will find happiness in our world, the world you belong in, the world you have always belonged in. The Wizarding World loves you, and we will take care of you." Soft hands returned to the belt, undoing it gently even as red-painted lips left their mark on a prepubescent chest once more. His pants dropped as she continued, dragging the overly large underwear down as well.

"Now, my dear…" The change of term to one of affection rather than reverence had the flush renewed; full-bodied and radiating more heat than any noble or well-to-do merchant she'd ever served. Rose Brown couldn't help but smile; she'd never had a customer this easy to dazzle, who was this innocent. Nobles with absolute control over themselves, wealthy people made arrogant by the shine of gold…honestly, this was nice. Innocent, and a privilege to take care of, considering who he was…she could honestly say she was enjoying this.

"Don't be shy. I am not going to judge you; you are sooo cute." The purr was something he'd never experienced; who would call a starved, beaten boy cute? While he certainly thought his face was pretty enough, at least compared to his relatives…it was an entirely different thing when a woman could see his entire body, could see his ribs and his bruises.

Soft hands roamed up his body, barely any degree of professionalism present, before she regained control of herself, speaking to the blushing boy.

"Right. I'm going to take your measurements now, dear. I take a great deal of pride in my work, and your wardrobe is going to be my greatest work yet." A snap of her fingers had measuring tapes appearing from nowhere; green eyes followed them curiously as various parts of him were measured. Shoulders, waist, rear, legs, arms, fingers…the bridge of his nose? Even as that last one was measured, he heard a strange scratching noise; turning his head to look, delighted by the fact that the measuring tape followed him perfectly, he saw an incredibly fancy quill with gems in it skating across a roll of parchment. Rose smiled, explaining.

"I got the quill from Scrolling Ink, in case you were wondering. The owner, Mr. Taylor, is…a bit air-headed, I must say, but he knows his work and he is good at it. I'm fairly certain that he was crafting similar works of art for you, if you would like to pay a visit to him." Hadrian smiled weakly, still red-faced and very much unsure of himself.

"I…I went there before I came here…he was nice…" She smiled, white teeth flashing as she ran her thumb across a cheek, keeping him off-balance.

"I see. Perhaps you were curious as to what it was writing?" A slight nod, the child forced to speak again so as to not stop the caress.

"Yes…why did it measure my nose?" A giggle from the woman.

"Nobody ever bothers to ask…well, nobody until you. Let me get you onto the pedestal, so that I can get some additional measurements, and I'll explain as I work." Her hands slid down to his naked waist, directing him to step onto it; he shivered beneath her gaze, ashamed, but she just held out her hand and a measuring tape landed in it, and she started retaking certain measurements.

"Magic can be both precise and imprecise in equal measure, as strange as that sounds. For my purposes, for making you the very best clothes I can, it requires some rather specific details. Hence, measuring every part of you, some of you personally, some with magic. The bridge of your nose is actually for hoods, at least with me. On particularly cold days you may wish to draw the hood of your cloak or jumper as far down over your face as you can, and it needs to reach there." She either didn't notice, or ignored the fact that to bring a hood that low would block his eyes. Or maybe wizarding clothing could be seen out from? It was magic, who was Hadrian to think he knew anything about it?

"Hmm…should I include a mask for you? It gets quite cold in Scotland…" She muttered to herself for several moments, debating the virtues of silk and wool before she returned to herself. A flick of her hand had her wand appearing in it; another few waves had clothes appearing, a fair bit bigger than he was…the actual average size for an 11-year-old boy, rather than the short, malnourished frame of the child.

"Sorry, got a little distracted. Now, I'm going to need you to lift up your feet a bit so I can get these boxers on you, dear." Another flush, more heat surging through him as the attractive woman pulled underwear up pale legs. She made certain they were fit properly, a few more wand waves and they shrank to fit him a bit better.

"These are what are known as "blanks". Typically they are clothes that I can fit to anyone, any size, so that I can see how a robe will fit over them. These were made for you, because I would never reuse a blank for you, and today you'll be leaving with them, since I will not allow you to wear those ghastly things any longer." That brought a flush of a different kind, even as he marveled at the feeling of the underwear.

They were nothing like the baggy, stretched, and holey things that he had always been given to wear; not second hand, not a dozen times too big for him. Soft, smooth silk sat lightly on his flesh, something that was yet another incredible feeling in a day of incredible feelings. Rose soon continued, even as more measurements were taken.

"Alright, I've got enough for a start. Acromantula Silk boxers, trousers, button-down shirts…I need to get a robe over you to see how it fits now." A robe appeared as she spoke, once again silk that felt so delightful. Green eyes closed in amazement, Madame Brown smiling to herself at the sight.

"Silk feels good, doesn't it dear?" A happy nod, her grin widening slightly as she ran her hands over his shoulders, making sure it fit correctly.

"Acromantula Silk is one of the finest materials the wizarding world has access to, and it's one of the very few materials I make use of. Being the best has it's perks." Hadrian's eyes opened back up, looking at her in curiosity.

"The Voucher did say you were the best…but what does that mean?" Everyone had claimed that today. Foremost, Best…why was every shop in Diagon Alley the Best of it's kind? Madame Brown was quick to explain.

"Oh, that's quite simple Lord Potter; it means that I am the best. Currently, around the entire world, the first place that any witch, wizard, or magical creature will go for the finest dress robes, clothes, or trend-setting accessories is this store!" Hadrian blinked slowly, considering that even as the woman measured some more.

"It's actually pretty stressful to keep it that way; I need to have everything exactly as required. Still, it is quite rewarding, because I get to be the one to make you an entire wardrobe." She smiles at him, even if he can't see it.

"I know it's not much, but it's a privilege I don't want to share with anyone. I have the silks already chosen; the beginning enchantments laid…I've been waiting for this for some time now." She stops, wrapping him up in another hug, trying to ignore the flash of fury she feels as the poor boy freezes. He hasn't had anywhere near enough positive reinforcement in his life, and she was more than willing to provide quite a bit before he left.

"You know, it's odd…before today I've never actually tailored an entire wardrobe for somebody. You're going to be the first one…" Hadrian looked up at her in confusion, head sliding back. She just smiled down at him, before letting him go and continuing her work.

"It's true; like I said, I'm the best my dear. That means that I can pick and choose what I tailor, and since I only use the very best of materials…" A shrug, even if he couldn't see it.

"Well, I'll put it like this. Wizarding clothing comes in multiple materials. From simple wool and cotton to fine silks and other fabrics…and then, above even the very finest of silks, are those harvest from Acromantula. Spiders, the likes of which you can't even imagine Lord Potter. The smallest of them are large enough to feast upon kneazles and krups." A moment as she paused.

"Right, you're new to the magical world…basically creatures the size of dogs or cats, or more accurately, a bit bigger than the average one." That did not sound like a spider he wanted to meet, or even see for that matter.

"Of course, those are just the babies, the ones that are the most numerous. The ones that I get my silk from are…somewhat bigger. The biggest ones that we have located and managed to harvest silk from are the size of a house, or, more accurately…a two story one." Wide eyes snapped to look at her, a grim nod was his response. Spiders the size of No. 4? That was utterly horrifying!

"However, the silk from them is…well, even these blanks don't compare. Even what I'm wearing doesn't compare. Acromantula silk is a symbol of status as it is, but when you have silk harvested from the eldest and strongest of them?" She chuckled, smiling.

"It's softer, smoother, finer, and holds so much more magic that there isn't even a comparison. It's what the finest dress robes, dueling robes, and war robes are crafted from. It is this that is the ultimate sign of wealth and influence in clothing, and I am one of very few people in the world with the skill to work with it." She leaned down, lips by his ear.

"And I'm going to make your entire wardrobe from it." She whispered, smiling as he shuddered from feeling her breath on his ear, from her hands running down the robe. She hugs him tightly once more, before returning to her work, continue her speech.

"The silk was actually a gift; once I made it clear it would be for you, and only you, the brave souls who harvest the silk refused to take payment for it. I have enough to outfit you for all seven years of Hogwarts in a full wardrobe, plus give you another full one once you are fully grown. And trust me, the one after you graduate will be significantly larger then any you get for Hogwarts, because that one will last you the vast majority of your life instead of merely a year." Hadrian just closed his eyes, wondering how much money that would have wound up being. Madame Brown continued on, unknowingly making the child feel worse.

"I am looking forward to that one as well, I must admit. I specialize in Dress Robes and Finery, and while I am going to delight in making your entire wardrobe, it will be a while before I can make proper finery for you. Still…I don't even offer most of the stuff I'm going to make for you." Hadrian didn't know why she was making such a point of it, but he responded anyways.

"Thank you…" It was said with an almost questioning lilt, but it got him a kiss to the cheek anyways and a hand briefly running through his hair.

"You're most welcome, my Dear. It will be my pleasure." She stopped talking then, getting her work done, the quill scratching across the parchment for some time. Various "blanks" were tried on; the robe over just the boxers was the first, followed by trousers, shirts (both a delightful feeling t-shirt and a button-up nicer than anything he'd ever seen), a jumper, an actual coat, gloves, and socks were all worn beneath the same robe to see how they would fit beneath it.

Time flows as the work gets done, Hadrian floating in a bit of a fog; his headache was finally easing a bit without the onslaught of new information. Madame Brown was much more professional now that she was focusing on getting her job done rather than making certain that the Boy-Who-Lived wouldn't complain about the treatment from her employees anytime soon, completing her work at a nearly terrifying rate, proving to even the inexperienced child that she wasn't merely boasting. Madame Rose Brown was an exceptional tailor.

It still takes time; between the time spent making sure he would be happy and the time actually getting job done, several hours pass. This was not the minor measurements of Madame Malkin and her helpers, or even the much more detailed work of Messer's Twilfit and Tatting. No, this was the work of a Master, preparing everything for extensive enchantments and making sure that everything will last perfectly until the next time the Boy-Who-Lived would grace her shop the following summer. By the time it is all said and done, Hadrian is given one final, long hug goodbye, along with one last kiss on the cheek, and wished a good day. Come back the next morning for the clothing to last him the week until she could make his wardrobe. Which meant, after asking her really quickly right before he left, that it was time to go to Victoria's Salon, something he'd been looking forward too.

Hadrian couldn't stop the blush that flared up as he thought about the amazingly beautiful woman; only his servants had come close, from what he could remember of the brief seconds he'd been allowed to look at them before being kissed. Each and every word she spoke had dripped with promises, promises he couldn't truly understand or comprehend…but she'd promised to make him happy. And really, it would be a wonderful ending to a magical day.

Hadrian couldn't stop the blush that flared up as he thought about the amazingly beautiful woman; only his servants had come close, from what he could remember of the brief seconds he'd been allowed to look at them before being kissed. Each and every word she spoke had dripped with promises, promises he couldn't truly understand or comprehend…but she'd promised to make him happy. And really, it would be a wonderful ending to a magical day.

It was just before eight when he slipped inside the salon; there weren't many people left, only a pair of employees waving their wands around as they attended to the chores required to close the store, a single customer finishing up the last bits of their trims. Hadrian didn't even have the time to look around before warmth and softness was pressed against him from behind, soft breath washing over his ear from warm lips that were less than an inch away from it.

"Welcome back, Hadrian."

The child shuddered in both shock and happiness as he was wrapped up in a tight hug, that beautiful voice caressing him as easily as her hands were. A gentle kiss was pressed to his cheek, the scent of strawberries tickling his nose. Her voice was filled with happiness, husky and dark with something he couldn't identify. Hadrian couldn't stop the strangest of feelings; as if he was a fly, caught in the webs of the spiders hidden away in the cupboard. He didn't understand why; Victoria didn't want to hurt him. Apparently, nobody in this wonderful world did. Instead they wanted to shower him with gifts and joy for something he couldn't remember doing. It still felt false…but he was warming up to it.

Victoria Beaulieu was a woman in a rather unique position, all things considered. A shop-owner in Great Britain, a French Veela in the British Wizarding World, she was simultaneously adored and hated by those around her. Her fellow store owners were more than friendly enough in general, and she even had quite a few friends. Her customers adored both her and her employees, as she ran the highest class salon in the world; she was the trendsetter when it came to hairstyles and decorations. Working closely with Madame Brown, the pair could set entirely new patterns that had wound up making them both quite wealthy when applied to the right people.

On the flip side, the British Nobility tended to look down upon her. It wasn't bad enough that she was French; the wizarding prejudice wasn't as bad as muggle in regards to that, but there were some lingering issues due to the past. The fact that she was a Veela was the real downside for her first decade here; non-humans were still looked down on everywhere, even in France and Japan where the highest concentrations of Veela were. Britain was one of the more progressive nations, all things considered, but wizards and witches had long memories, and it wasn't all that long ago that Veela were preying on men and women alike.

Still, over time and numerous satisfied patrons, she had earned her place and her wealth, fulfilling her childhood dream of owning a nice salon while at the same time being wealthy enough she didn't have to work anymore. She still did, because she enjoyed her work, but she didn't really need to any more, and as a result she only took to the floor when in the mood for it…or when something happened that drew her to it.

She smiled as she watched the Boy-Who-Lived melt in her arms, fighting the urge to let her rage come to the fore.

If there was one thing that would bring her very best skills forward, it was the boy in her arms. The only reason she was still alive after the bastard of a Dark Lord had run rampant throughout the world; this particular Dark Lord had gone after the Pureblood Wizards. Not the first time a Dark Lord had done so, but this was by far one of the most successful…and the most charismatic. Despite much of his dogma being against part-humans such as herself, or werewolves, or vampires, the man was able to have a lot of the dark-aligned non-humans under his control regardless. And, much like all Dark Lords, any who didn't join them were their enemies, and she had refused to bow to someone who believed her to be less than scum.

She'd gotten a lot of threats in the closing days of the war; more than one assault on her store and her home. She was just thankful that she wasn't considered important enough for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to take a personal interest in her, otherwise she had no doubt the assaults would have taken her life rather than merely terrifying her. Unfortunately, she had known that her days were numbered, and had been looking for a place outside Britain before that fateful Halloween night. She smiled to herself at the memory, welcoming the beautiful boy back to her store with every bit of joy she felt…she couldn't stop older instincts from rising to the fore either. He was just too cute.

Victoria adored the way he shuddered, even if it brought fury to her once more. Their savior, her savior, had clearly been abused. She'd nearly lost control earlier upon realization, nearly letting out the creature within. She'd actually been amazed that he'd shown no fear over it.

A Savior abused. It was almost like some terrible story, where the hero went through a terrible childhood followed by brief moments of happiness and a horrible life until the foe was finally vanquished. Fortunately, the Dark Lord had died that night, which meant that all that left was his happy life…and it was time she made a start on that, wasn't it?

A few words, dripping with the same honey she tended to pour out to the most irritable of purebloods, had him melting further against her; a low chuckle and a kiss to the cheek and she helped him into the back, to her personal work area. Her are was more private than the rest of the store, one of the privileges of owning the store. It was truly amazing how many galleons the wealthy would part with just for a "personal" touch.

Sitting him in the chair, laughing a bit more as he was amazed at the simple magic that allowed him to levitate at the perfect height for her to work. She smiled down at him, wondering how far to take this, even as her hands started to run through his hair, adoring the way those bright green eyes closed in confused pleasure. She had to halt the fury before it could manifest; the fact that no-one had ever done this for him was enough to make her wish to murder everyone who had been involved in his life so far.

Victoria took a few moments to consider it, massaging that lovely hair all the while. She hadn't intended for him to come here for a couple years; she'd enchanted her vouchers to only register with him after he turned 15, so that he could enjoy the privileges he'd earned. Giving an 11-year-old a happy ending wasn't on her list of plans for her life, after all, and she didn't know if she really should. The goblins must have removed any enchantments that could stop him from getting to his gifts; a moments thought had a smile crossing her face that had nothing predatory about it at all, unlike all previous that he'd seen. She couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before he encountered, and drank, any of the large amounts of alcohol that had no doubt been sent to him. That would be an…entertaining night.

She started speaking, comparing his hair to others in his family, mainly just to make sure he stayed engaged and learned a little bit about his family as she mulled it over. She could go all out with this, overwhelming the poor child more thoroughly than anything else would in his entire life, for while she didn't often decide to give her customers happy endings, she was a Veela, and she'd done it a fair few times with her favorites. If the child stayed conscious once she got started it would greatly surprise her. But she wasn't a woman who was into children, no matter how adorable her savior was. If he'd only showed up once he was old enough to hit puberty, or waited until he was 16 or 17, this wouldn't even be a debate; he'd already be hers.

She could go minor effort; she'd seen attention starved children before, seen abused children before, even if only the first had ever been in one of her chairs. Just having her hands on him and talking to him would be more than enough to make him happy, to say nothing of the massage he was going to get. But that felt…cheap. She owed everything to him, after all, for if it hadn't of been for him she'd have either died before she could flee or died whenever the Death Eaters started expanding out of Britain…which they'd already started doing.

Of course, that left the middle route, and as she made that decision the predatory smile returned, and planted a kiss on his head before she turned on her allure to full force rather than the minor attraction she normally restrained it to. Smirking as the boy's body slacked in the standard daze of the prey, she began her work properly, making sure to go ahead and fix the issue with his hair that she had noticed.

Hadrian followed obediently as the gorgeous woman escorted him to "Somewhere more private, Darling", eyes forced by something didn't understand to watch the swaying flesh before him. He didn't even notice the gleam in her eyes as she flared her allure all the higher, didn't even notice the way his body was reacting to something it wasn't mature enough to understand yet. He did notice when the swaying stop, and the gorgeous face that framed adoring blue eyes sank down to in front of him. The flawlessly white teeth were bared in an angelic smile, and she brought her second hand up his one and helped him into a chair that looked far more comfortable than the ones outside; instead of being just like the muggle salon chairs without poles, this one had actual cushions on it. Sitting in it confirmed the thought; it had to be more comfortable than the other ones. Not quite on the level of the chair of the goblins, or of the ones in his trunk, it was still far more pleasant than any muggle chair he'd ever been in.

Green eyes widened as the chair floated upwards, a honey-filled laugh sounding from deep red lips that drew his eyes with every movement even as soft hands landed in his hair.

"Mmh, I'm glad you like the chair, Hadrian." Long fingers gently massaged his scalp, strawberries filling his nose as the woman leaned closer to him. A flare of something caused his eyes to linger on the low cut of her robes, which by some chance hung right in front of his eyes, revealing the sight of a light blue lacy bra and large amounts of flesh that had him blushing so hard he couldn't even think.

Several long minutes passed just like that, Hadrian watching as her breasts quivered at each breath and her hot breath washed over his head and his head was massaged. His eyes would have long since closed and he'd have been on his way to sleep if it wasn't for that strange desire to soak in the view of this gorgeous woman. Her voice caught him by surprise after that.

"I have to say, you have inherited the Potter Hair, Hadrian." Confusion filled him, and she continued on idly, leaning forward just a little bit more, to the point where his face was practically inside her robe, the same force making sure his eyes never left the flawless skin of her chest, making sure he breathed deep. He missed the smirk that crossed her beautiful face.

"I've had the pleasure of working on four generations of Potters; all of them, even the women, had similar hair to you darling. Black, silky, and absolutely untamable when short." Another short chuckle did wonderful things to Hadrian's dazed mind, even as she started massaging his head properly rather than just rubbing.

"Your father, James, was the worst though…although I have to admit, your grandmother Dorea Potter is the one your hair reminds me of the most, and she wasn't even biologically a Potter." The intoxicating flesh was removed from his face, letting him breathe freely for the first time. The fresh, non-strawberry scented air freed his mind from the spell for a few moments, allowing him to ask.

"My…grandmothers' hair?" She hummed in agreement, explaining even as she seemed to mull something over in her head.

"Yes, Dorea Potter nee Black, your paternal Grandmother, or the mother of your father. She came from the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, and had a touch of the blood gift of that family." Confusion filled Hadrian; Blood gift? Most Ancient and Noble House of Black? What were those? Victoria wound up answering the first question at least.

"She was a minor Metamorphagus, someone who can change small aspects of their body at will. Hers were her hair and her eyes; she took quite a bit of amusement from changing the color of her eyes and hair to mess with people. Your father actually inherited a minor bit of that gift, but he couldn't control it. It's actually why he had to wear glasses until…well, it would have been until he was 21, but due to the war he wasn't able to take the potion, since it would put him out of commission for a while." With that it seemed as though she had come to some sort of decision, for she looked down at him and smiled, before something hit him with the force of a hammer wielded by Vernon for the fourth time in his life.

Unlike those incidents, this wasn't painful; no, it was so much worse. Muscles slacked, a jaw dropped, green eyes widened as the woman somehow became even more beautiful, angelic and painful to look at. Unable to control himself enough to even swallow, Hadrian drooled helplessly as the angel given flesh sat on his lap, a strange smile on her face as her hands migrated to the back of his head.

"Tell me, Darling, have you ever had a headache that just won't go away?" Nodding helplessly, unable to even consider talking, far less lying, the woman laughed, low and beautiful, before continuing on.

"I'm going to fix that for you, Hadrian." And the Angel kissed him, ruby red lips pressed to his as a long and experienced tongue wreaked havoc with a mouth that was incapable of resistance. Helpless moans left the boy, before her fingers grew hot. A surge of something raged across his head as she kissed him harder, and then her lips started to burn against him. Panic flared in some distant part of his brain, what miniscule part of him wasn't overwhelmed by light and heat and the gorgeous angel that was in his lap and leaning down enough to kiss him with as much skill as his servants had earlier. Needless to say, that part of his mind wasn't even registered as the pain surged through his head; all that mattered was the fully grown, beautiful woman in his lap kissing him stupid.

Then something changed; the fire and pain stopped, reliefsurging through him as something exploded from his scalp. Victoria moaned lightly into his mouth, the sound like liquid honey, and all thoughts of whatever was growing on his head was forgotten; what did it matter in the face of a Goddess that adored him? It took several minutes for Victoria to even slow down, far less consider stopping; Hadrian had never even heard of snogging except from whispers form older kids, but in that same little part of his mind, he figured that this was it.

When she finally pulled her lips away, the boy whining in need even as he panted beneath her for air, still utterly incapable of doing anything other than whatever Victoria told him to, saliva trails snapping as those lips drew his eyes yet again. The smirk that rose on her face had Hadrian whimpering, unable to understand what was being done to him with what was being done to his mind. She just leaned back a little, arching her back instead of bending it, letting the valley of her breasts rise above his head and shake for several seconds before she chuckled again, her hands running down his head. Oddly enough he could still feel them, even after her hands left his head, but his mind was too far gone to really understand what that meant. The blonde angel spoke again, voice still dripping honey, but not quite as hypnotic as it had been before she'd started kissing him.

"My my; you had quite a bit of hair stored up." Almost as if she was descending from a different plane of existence, Victoria became less and less alluring to Hadrian's eyes; still unbelievably, painfully beautiful, but no longer so completely mind-blowingly perfect. Hadrian swallowed, heavily, realizing that a gorgeous woman was on his lap and had just got done kissing him so thoroughly it made even the kisses from his servants earlier look like a peck on the cheek.

It took several moments for him to move past that; by the time he managed Victoria was rather happily running her hands through hair that was now a lot longer than he remembered it being. Inches upon inches of silky black hair cascaded from his head, and his headache was gone.

His headache was gone!

"It took me a few moments to realize what was going on. If I hadn't of known your family I probably wouldn't have realized it…" Hadrian looked up at her, blue eyes and a gorgeous face smiling down at him a bit more gently than before.

"I imagine you've had only a couple of hair cuts during your years with the…" Angelic features sharpened momentarily.

"Monsters that raised you?" Hadrian nodded. After a few seconds it became clear she was waiting for him to speak, so he managed after several moments of stuttering and false-starts.

"Umm, ah…It…Th…" A chuckle made him shudder before she kissed him again, momentarily ascending to that level that destroyed all higher thought as she did. This one didn't last anywhere near as long, just long enough to remove any degree of a train of thought Hadrian had managed to recover before it stopped.

"Mmh, take your time, my darling Hadrian. I've got you all night after all, there's no need to rush." It took several more minutes for the child to recover, but with those hypnotic words ringing in his head he managed to speak, slowly and thickly.

"Mmmm…no. I…think I got one? Maybe two? It…my hair just never grew." Once again returning to the level of other mortals, Victoria nodded, responding even as she idly pulled his head into her generous chest in a hug.

"That's pretty much what I had thought. You have a touch of your grandmothers' gift as well, Hadrian. Not much, I don't think, but enough that you could change your hair around a bit, probably with a bit more control than your dad ever had." She squeezed him then, tight against her chest, Hadrian having a bit of difficulty breathing, and her voice grew quiet and sad.

"It's…it's likely that as a baby, you switched the length or color of your hair around depending on who held you. It would depend on how strong your gift was…but it's likely that your dad was holding you and playing with you before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked your family that night, and the trauma locked your gift in place." Hadrian froze against her, suddenly understanding why he was being hugged so tightly, and tried to work out how he should feel.

He still didn't have any idea several minutes later, when she let him go and resumed massaging his head. She spoke after several moments of that, eyes sad and understanding.

"It's alright Hadrian. The ba…man is dead, and can't hurt you or anyone else anymore." The comfort of her eyes and a brief resurgence of the goddess ensured that he believed it, before she continued.

"You have some of your grandmother's gift; how much I don't know. Still, without it locked into James's nest, you have some options, and I'm going to go for a bit more of your mother, rather than your father." The gasp the child let off had her forcing back both sadness and fury, descending down to the woman from this morning rather than the angel or goddess she'd been tonight as she spoke some more.

"Your mother, Lily Potter, was a beautiful woman Hadrian. With beautiful red hair and your gorgeous green eyes, she was a stunning figure, one that I only got to work on a few times. I wish I had a picture to give you, but I'm afraid I don't." A deep sigh, before she decided she'd brought his mood down far enough. She'd thought about going over his potential gifts, or explaining what she was going to do, but after she'd made him sad with a careless thought process she needed to bring him back into heaven. So she spoke, prepping herself to go far more than she'd originally thought to make up for her blunder. She'd meant to make him happy, all through the night.

Time to make good on that.

"I've been rather…remiss in making sure you're happy, haven't I darling?" Even as she spoke she became more alluring, and the moment the final syllable left her lips she was kissing him again, heat and pleasure burning out any thought other than that of this goddess from his head. He was left whimpering and wanting when she finally broke it, utterly distraught when she got off his lap. She just giggled, a sound that made him happy that she wasn't deserting him, and made him lean back with a kiss to the head and a gentle pressure.

"Just trust me darling, I'm going to make your hair as beautiful as you are. Just sit back and enjoy, and if you're a good boy for me you'll get a reward." In a drooling daze of mindless happiness, he stayed perfectly still as the gorgeous woman washed his hair with several different kinds of shampoo, hands running through his hair repeatedly, talking all the while in that honey-filled, hypnotic voice that was so wonderful he couldn't focus on anything else other than listening to it and enjoying the sensations.

"Your hair is gorgeous Hadrian, so silky and smooth. It's so rare that I get to have someone in here with good hair like yours." Compliments and adoration poured from her lips; the only time it stopped was when she leaned down to kiss him stupid again, which she did every couple of minutes, and in between washes and rinses.

"You don't mind your hair being a bit long, do you darling?" Barely able to speak, eyes still tracking every movement of the gorgeous goddess that he could see, Hadrian attempted to spit out some degree of positive response. He managed, because she giggled, kissed him again, and thanked him. In a moment he was no longer reclined, hair dried by magic from soaking wet to merely damp, and even if he couldn't see it he could tell some of it was pooled on the floor. Out came a pair of scissors, and it was matter of seconds before a lot of the weight pulling on his neck vanished. There was still a fair bit of it, more than he'd ever felt before, but he ignored it because Victoria cooed and said that this was going to look as beautiful as he was again.

The actual hair cut took another ten minutes; even with honey pouring from her lips Victoria was good at what she did, and she was styling it all the while. By the time she was done, and had descended to the level of a mere mortal once more, he could barely recognize the person in the mirror. In fact, if it wasn't for the terrible clothes he was wearing and the ugly, oft-broken glasses, he wouldn't have been able to.

Before today, Hadrian Potter had been a scruffy, broken looking child. A face that was thin and starved, dull green eyes behind ugly glasses, and black hair that was short and scruffy, unable to be tamed for anything. All of that had changed, in one way or another, by the events of the day.

The harsh lines of his face had softened somehow, making him look a lot less like a starved young boy and instead a rather androgynous child was looking back out at him from the mirror. Behind those ugly glasses shined a pair of dazed, bright green eyes, vivid and alive, and glazed over with the pleasure that Victoria was causing by draping herself over him and layering kisses on his cheek as he examined himself. Then came the hair.

What had been short and eternally windswept and messy was now long and silky, smooth and glossy in the rooms light. A smile on her face as she pulled back enough to let him look a bit better at the shoulder-blade length, falling in gentle waves, framing his face perfectly and making him look a lot prettier than he remembered, with just enough bangs to cover the scar and shade eyes that were so much more appealing than he remembered. Combining that with the amazingly fine clothes that Madame Brown had given him…Hadrian looked good.

"One of the minor curses on the Potter line, from what I was told. Originally something far worse, one of your ancestors took away the worst of it and tried to change it to what he believed to be "perfect" hair. Unfortunately, due to the way the ritual was working, it wasn't his definition of perfect hair, which would have been whatever was natural for the Potter in question. Instead, it was his wife's idea of perfect hair, and she was quite in love with the first Potter to have short and messy hair, and had always hated her own messy hair. Hence the windswept short hair and flawless long hair." She draped herself back around him, ascending to the alluring goddess once more as she kissed him stupid yet again.

He doesn't actually register what happens next; it isn't until he is sat down on a floating table and her lips leave his that he regains any sense of reality…just enough of it to stare helplessly at the goddess before him as she smiled down at him and moved his arms. Helpless to resist, his arms were raised above his head and the shirt he was wearing was removed for the second time that day. The moment where he couldn't see the gorgeous woman hurt, distressing him far more than it should, but was mollified quickly when she kissed him heatedly the moment his shirt was clear, more honey pouring from her lips the second they parted from his, ignoring the fact that the pleasantly dazed boy could only enjoy the sound rather than soaking up the word.

He barely registered the fact that she was taking his silk pants off as well; between the smile on her lips, the look in her eyes, and the way his eyes were forced to follow every movement she made. It didn't matter; unable to resist, unwilling to even try, he shifted with every slight push and honey-filled coo as she slid them off.

Drooling and helpless, he happily laid back as the angel once again sat on his lap, that same predatory smile on her face that promised rewards so long as he did exactly what she wanted. And he was, for the moment he was laid back on the cool, comfortable table she was kissing him again, snogging him with roaming hands and happy moans and passion the likes of which an abused child could never resist.

The snogging ended far slower than it started, with lingering kisses to multiple parts of his face as she complimented him on how right he looked like this, with long hair and a gorgeous woman like herself making sure he was happy. And then she asked something that he would never be able to deny.

"Hadrian, darling, do you mind if I make myself a little more comfortable? I feel a bit restricted, and if you want to be as happy as I can make you, I need to be comfortable…" Mind still utterly blown, the boy nodded helplessly, and was promptly treated to the greatest sight he'd ever seen.

It took removing her body from his, something that hurt, but she slowly and delightfully shucked her robe, pulling it off with no small amount of teasing. She'd prepared for this, it seemed, for unlike what his eyes had been shown earlier she was wearing something beneath the robe, something more than just the bra at least. A mini-skirt was the first thing revealed, cut so low that when she leaned back just a touch it revealed a skimpy bit of blue lace beneath it. Her belly was covered by a silk button up, white and with most of the upper buttons undone and revealing every inch of cleavage. With a smirk on her face, she shrugged as the high-quality robe fell to the floor.

"That's better, but not quite where it should be, no?" Unable to even respond, Hadrian just watched as she unbuttoned the silk shirt and shrugged that off too, leaving her top bare except for the lacy blue bra. The smirk widened as hungry green eyes devoured every inch of pale, flawless skin, and she shook her sizable breasts just enough to redraw the eye.

"Much better, Darling. Don't you agree?" A helpless nod before she opened a hand, a flask of some sort floating over to her hand. She opened it, the clasp sounding in the quiet room, and gently tipped it over his chest. It wasn't cold; a warm oil of some kind was poured in a line down his chest, only for her to frown as she came across the fine boxers that Madame Brown had given him.

"That won't do. How am I supposed to rub you down with those ugly things still on? How about I take them off for you?" There was no shame, no hesitation; the overwhelmed child just happily helped shed the last remnant of his clothing, and then shuddered as more oil was dribbled onto his more private areas and then down each leg. The clasp closed back, and Victoria began actually doing what Hadrian had come here for.

From toes to head, she rubbed the warm oil that smelled of something pleasant Hadrian couldn't identify into his entire front side, slowly and pleasantly. She started at his feet, whatever ability of hers that transcended her into a goddess on full blast, his eyes following every movement she made, every jiggle of her barely covered chest was watched. Thorough and dedicated, the woman showed more attention than he'd believed possible, all the while smiling at him and telling him how wonderful he was, how grateful she was that he had been born and saved them. Promises that he'd never have to worry about anything ever again, that she was here for him, and that she adored him.

Blue eyes stared at glazed over green as she moved on from his feet after leaning down to plant a kiss on him, and focused on his legs next. Warm and soft fingers kneaded the oil in all the way up, rubbing up and down every couple of seconds, in a skillful display that was far filthier than Hadrian could truly appreciate, with the woman quickly adjusting herself to sitting on his legs, putting her entire body into each movement as she moved to his privates. A smile filled with things he couldn't identify heralded the careful, devoted caress, but it didn't last too long as she moved up to his stomach and chest. Her efforts changed here; far more time and attention was paid to his torso, with kisses planted adoringly on it, and when her tongue dragged from his navel to his neck Hadrian didn't know how to feel or react. She just giggled, lace covered breasts rubbing against his stomach even as she lovingly rubbed the oil into his neck and her lips wreaked havoc on his.

Lost in pleasure, Hadrian didn't notice as she finished with his front, and was too busy adoring her taste when her lips finally left his to notice that she was rising up from him. Then he was rolled over, which he obeyed happily, and it all began again as more warm, scented oil was poured onto him and rubbed in. Kisses and touches followed, honey-filled words, and countless touches and licks as Victoria devoted more attention to his body rather than putting on a show for him. Surges of allure kept Hadrian in the land of bliss even more than the starting stage of the massage did, but the fire of her kisses and touches ensured that Hadrian never forgot how privileged he was that this goddess was doing this for him. For he deserved it, didn't he darling?

Then the second stage started, the actual massage after he was properly relaxed, and Hadrian soon entered a land of bliss that even the goddess couldn't interfere with. Between the complete destruction of all higher brain functions and the way the goddess felt against him, the fact that she was pressing her soft chest against him so happily, and the massage itself Hadrian melted into a complete puddle of child for the second time that day. Every muscle was rendered mush, every thought left his head, and all he could do was lay there and enjoy the light and heat and pleasure that Victoria was bringing. She worked on him for some time; two additional types of oils were poured on his back and worked in thoroughly, leaving him happy, mindlessly and unable to think of anything other than drifting pleasure.

Then she rolled him over, and started it all over again.

This time she put on a show even as she worked him over; lips were pressed to his feet as she gently worked the oil in and made certain they wouldn't be able to support him for some time. Lips trailed up his legs, followed by his legs being rendered completely useless to him in a glow of happiness. Kisses trailed up his stomach, licks trailed back down, even as her hands continued working magic of a kind even muggles could manage, if not anywhere near this well. His neck was kissed several times before she moved up to his lips again, the child needing to pant but his body too relaxed to manage it even as she laughed huskily. Kisses came quickly, the French Veela showing him why the French had a style of kissing named after them even in Britain, where they were hated the most.

Time passed in a daze for the child, a daze of mindless pleasure and moans as she went back down with the third oil and massaged him all over again. When it was finally over it took him quite some time to realize it, especially since the goddess was cuddled into him, with warm and soft flesh weighing down on him and her lips occasionally pressing to his just to make sure he stayed in the happy daze for just a little while longer.

"Have I made you happy darling?" A helpless nod earned a giggle and a searing, heat-filled kiss, before she moaned so beautifully it had to be sinful and spoke again.

"Mmmh, I'm glad. It's a bit of a shame though; your body can't handle a proper happy ending just yet, but I'm about to do my best." His mind didn't have time to process that other than an idle thought of "Proper?" before her lips were on his again, except the kisses this time were like nothing she'd given him so far.

Every kiss had been full of adoration, of light and heat and devotion. The kisses now were filled with hunger, with passion, her tongue devouring every inch of his mouth. Teeth nipped at his lips and sucked, hand roved through his hair and tugged at seemingly random moments that made him shudder. Her breasts rubbed against his naked body in ways that felt wonderful, moans left them both, but hers seared his brain. Lips worked their way down to his neck, freeing his own to moan helplessly, flawless teeth sinking into pale flesh as she sucked. His name left her lips repeatedly, her head pulling back to look down at him with burning blue eyes and a smirk that sent shudders running through him, before she dived back down and restarted it all again.

Again and again the older, far more experienced woman ravaged his mouth and his neck, the goddess ascendant devouring every breath and moan, claiming him so thoroughly he didn't even know how to react. It was only after many minutes, panting and sweaty with the goddess lightly biting into his chest and not even breathing hard, that he managed to recover slightly. A low moan of pleasure kept leaving him as she worked him over, lips dancing to the left and to the right to latch onto hardened nipples occasionally. That same husky giggle sounded out as she pressed one last kiss to a bite mark in the very center of his chest, speaking again.

"You are wonderful, Hadrian. You taste so good, and react so beautifully…I've half a mind to keep you here all night." No protest came from Hadrian as she kissed her way up his chest, long tongue sliding back down, before burying her lips in his neck for several minutes with kisses, nips, licks, and delightful suction. She eventually spoke again, lips still against his neck, the vibrations as pleasant as many of the other things she'd done, even as she pressed him into the table with her weight.

"So delightful, so tasty… I love it darling. So many pureblood lords I've had on my table; some I've given happy endings to, most I haven't. None have ever been quite as precious, as wonderful as you. They all tried to hide their moans from me; tried to hide their enjoyment, since it wasn't manly. I much, much, much…" A bite to his neck and harsh suction wrenched a helpless moan from him and a giggle from her, before she licked the spot she'd bit and raised her head to where she could look into his eyes with a burning grin on her flawless face.

"prefer it when my prey is loud for me. I like it so much more when you show me how much you love what I do to you." Something strange burned in those blue eyes, something predatory, as she kissed him again. Something that made sure that even if he'd been capable of any thoughts that didn't relate to how perfect she was, he wouldn't have been able to do anything.

"Have I made you happy, darling? Because you've made me so very, very…" Another kiss made sure that Hadrian was nothing but happy.

"Happy. Is this enough for you, or would you like a bit more?" Broken before the goddess, there was no way that Hadrian could actually speak. She just smiled down at him.

"More it is, darling." Kisses followed, time blurring uselessly past in a flurry of Victoria. Her taste, her touch, her feel, her love. Hadrian had no chance, no choice, nothing to do except lay there and enjoy it, trying weakly to respond only to be smacked down by a flare of perfection from Victoria as she devoured every millimeter of him. When she finally finished he was a sight to see; a giggle left her lips as she pulled him close, burying his head in her sizable breasts and holding him tight.

Hadrian wasn't sure when he came back to himself; when the goddess receded and his higher thought processes were allowed to return at long last, and the blush that lit him up was the biggest so far, on a day filled with blushes. Victoria just calmly stroked his hair and lightly pushed him further into her breasts.

"Did you enjoy it, darling?" Her voice was still honey, but nowhere near where it had been. He could think now, and as a result could actually respond.

"Yes…" His voice was breathless and quiet, afraid of a resurgence of the goddess he was cuddled into. He enjoyed every second of it, wanted it again more than anything he'd ever experienced…but was afraid of it at the same time. He didn't understand how it could happen, how it could all feel so good, but didn't care either. He was just enjoying the glow at this point.

"I'm glad. You deserve all the happiness you can get." She heaved a sigh, breasts pressing tight to his face, before she spoke again, voice quiet and somewhat sad.

"I'm really glad. Those monsters who raised you deserve to die…and I really shouldn't have done this with you." Confusion and horror wells up within him, even as she holds him closer, tighter, and speaks some more.

"Don't worry; I don't regret it. It was as good for me as it was for you, and I very much look forward to doing it again." The resurgence of the goddess soothed him, and when he'd regained his senses she continued.

"Still, giving an 11-year-old a happy ending, even a minor one such as this, would be looked upon quite dimly by others. They wouldn't want me kissing you, or cuddling you, or giving you your proper due in a couple years." She rolled them over, Hadrian still bonelessly relaxed, and she pulled her breasts from his face enough to look down at him, stern and worried, and brought the goddess back out.

"So, if you want to keep feeling this, to keep being adored and worshipped the way you deserve to be, then darling you're going to have to do me a favor. Don't tell anybody about this." Force and command poured from those honey-tinged words, and Hadrian could do nothing but agree as the request was put to his very core. The smile he gained from the agreement sent heat and pleasure surging through him; almost as much as the several loving kisses did.

"Good, I'm glad. This means I'll be able to keep doing this for you…maybe a couple times each summer?" Those words were spoken in between kisses, and the goddess made another commanding request as she did. Hadrian moaned out his compliance eagerly, and she slowed down, then stopped.

She cuddled him for some time after that, as Hadrian's body ever so slowly returned to his control. The puddle became just an incredibly relaxed, incredibly pleased boy once more; barely an improvement, but one that could walk at least, and his curious movements heralded the end of the cuddling session, much to his dismay, and her vocalized one.

With a reluctant whine of her own, one that had Hadrian's heart skipping several beats, she rose, placing one last kiss on him before she swayed over to a shelf, his eyes able to do nothing but follow her. Bending over, shaking her body far more than the action would normally demand, she gathered up several bottles and other items, bringing them over to him and setting them on the table as he reluctantly sat up.

"These are some things I got together for you, darling. Small gifts; nothing major, since I am your gift, but these will help you quite a bit." She held up each bottle in turn as she spoke of them, explaining what they were and what they were for.

"This is Sitai's Shampoo; it's a higher quality shampoo that will smell of whatever you find most pleasant. Unlike muggle shampoos, you can and should shampoo your hair every day, because this will revitalize your hair. This one is Victoria's Conditioner…" A wink from one of those blue eyes from the buxom beauty.

"One I sell myself, and one I created. A rather specialized potion you use after you shampoo your hair; it makes sure your hair will stay as perfect as ever for your entire life, and you'll never have an issue with styling your hair in your life. This one is Belle's Body Wash; designed for sensitive, clean skin, it will make sure you stay clean and smelling good, alongside with tasting as good as you do now." The way her pink tongue licked over ruby lips at that had Hadrian swearing to himself to never go a day without washing with all of them.

A collection of brushes and a book was next; simple things that would ensure that he never had an issue with hair care or styling it however he wanted. And then she helped him up and started dressing him.

Unlike before, when he couldn't comprehend anything other than doing what the goddess wanted, she stayed mortal for this, smiling happily as she gently pulled the clothing onto him.

That didn't mean she was nice about it.

Every blush was met with a kiss, burning and greedy. Every stutter was met with her head going to his neck and whispering loving words into it of how beautiful his body was. Every hesitation was met with her pressing closer to him; by the time she got him dressed he was pressed back against the table and getting mauled by her lips again, and she brough his hands up and placed them on her breasts, causing him to blush, which resulted in more kisses.

Getting dressed took the better part of half an hour.

When she finally pulled her lips off him with a delighted moan, Hadrian was left bereft of her warmth, everywhere except for his palms and fingers, which she had slipped beneath the bra. With everything that could process embarrassment burnt out at this point, Hadrian squeezed, and Victoria moaned, eyes burning as she played up the reaction for him, hands latching onto his and making sure he kept squeezing. They felt far too wonderful for the child to describe, her moans doing things to his head that even the ascension to goddess hadn't, and the kisses she layered onto him ensured he knew she was happy for his boldness.

But all good things must come to an end, and she finally pulled his hands away, and he followed her will happily. With both of her hands holding his, fingers intertwined, she smiled at him before speaking.

"Now, I'm going to expect you back on the 31st Hadrian, so I can give you another session and provide you with enough supplies to last you for the year." Hadrian nodded, reluctantly letting go of one of her hands to reach into the pouch. An elegantly raised eyebrow as he pulled out a voucher, and then she smiled and shook her head, before kissing him long enough that his legs went wonky yet again.

"I gave you 30 of those for a reason darling, and it wasn't so you could use them up in your first year. I'm not going to accept a single one of those until I can give you a proper, thorough happy ending, which won't happen until you have hit puberty at the minimum. I'd say…maybe after your fourth year I'll let you start using those. Until then, you're going to get several sessions each summer for free." That statement was punctuated by another steamy kiss; one that had him briefly reaching the puddle levels of before.

And yet, once he'd regained his mind, he tried to protest. Everyone had been so nice, everyone had given him so much…should he really get more?

"But…but you've already made me happy…just like it said…" Another smile, and he was promptly made happy again, repeatedly, and until he didn't any capability of protesting again.

"I told you darling; this is the least of what you deserve. I'm not going to accept any of these until after your fourth year. You're cute, responsive, and have been failed by the Wizarding World. This is the least that I can do for you. After all, no 11 year old looks at a salon and parlor with happy ending on the voucher and goes straight there…unless they've had a terrible life…and I'm sorry for that." She made quite certain he couldn't argue, couldn't protest, and somehow the next time he was allowed to surface from her he was on the floor with her above him, both hands in his hair and her lips on his neck once again. It took several more minutes for her to stop and let him up once more.

Hadrian was left there, looking at one of the three most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, on her knees and at the same height at he was, topped only with a thin and lacy blue bra and thighs barely covered by a mini-skirt that brought true credit to the name. She grinned, before leaning in for one last kiss, promising that when he showed up on the 31st, if he was a good boy and left without any more attempts to pay for this, she'd do something special for him. She might even take the bra off next time.

Hadrian left, escorted out by the nearly nude woman, with her hand on his shoulder and the other on top of his…which had been placed quite firmly on her rear, beneath the miniskirt. The moan she'd given off when he experimentally squeezed was enough to stop him from going any further…right up until the point when she'd pouted at him and asked if that was it.

It took another half hour before he left.

With no idea what time it was, just that it was dark and he was exhausted, mentally and physically, and still so warm and happy and relaxed that he could barely think, Hadrian only barely managed to make it to the Leaky Cauldron, where Tom was waiting on him with a hot meal.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, welcome back." Panic flared within the child, green eyes flicking around to make sure he wasn't about to get mobbed as the bartender welcomed him. The man winced, shaking his head even as he spoke.

"Don't worry Mr. Potter; I told everybody you'd be coming in at some point, and no matter how happy they were to see you, to leave you alone if they wanted to eat here tonight." And the words were true; while each of the patrons had looked up at him, and were still looking at him, none had gotten up. He just received a lot of nods and smiles as he looked around, and he couldn't stop the sigh of relief. He was gestured towards a more secluded booth, with the statement that Tom would have some food to him in just a moment.

It really was just a moment; Hadrian had barely sat down before the man was putting down a plate full of roasted beef and potatoes, parsnips and carrots and peas, alongside a small Yorkshire pudding. Putting the first bite in his mouth results in a pleased moan; this was better than anything he'd ever had before!

Oddly enough, as he chewed, he realized that that was entirely true. While he'd never been allowed to eat much at #4, he had gotten to eat a proper meal at a restaurant when the Dursley's had had no choice but to bring him along, and giving him nothing would have drawn unwelcome attention. It had been something similar, but this tasted so much better! Voicing that had Tom laughing and sitting down with a sigh of relief.

"I can't take all the credit I'm afraid; a lot of it comes from before me. I confess I don' know all the details, Mr. Potter, but I can try and explain it. You came from the muggles, right?" A nod even as he tucked in; he hadn't known how starving hungry feed me now his stomach had gotten thanks to years of ignoring it entirely, but now that he was eating it was roaring it's displeasure with the full enhanced might that Ragnok had warned him of.

"Muggle food is a lot worse than Wizarding from the very beginning, at least nowadays, and it starts at the growing. Muggles use machines and chemicals to make everything grow quicker, and grow the way they want it too, and it starts to spoil from there. It's only made worse when they harvest it before it's actually ready, so that they can fill it with even more chemicals to make it last longer. With all the terrible things that go into each bit of food, and the fact that it's all taken before it's ripe, it's amazing that muggles manage to many anything taste good, much less as much as they do. Still, even they know that fresh ingredients taste better.

Wizarding food though…well, what you're eating tells it for me. It's grown with magic, on fields that had been blessed with magic, a life energy. It's harvested when it's ready, preserved with magic, prepared with magic and by hand. Muggle food doesn't stand a chance, and when you add in the care with which it's cooked, well, muggle food doesn't stand a chance, considering that everything they do is machined." Hadrian hmm'd in thought; it was true that fresh food tasted better. He'd been "volunteered" to work in someone's garden a few years back in exchange for some of the produce to bring back to his Aunt, and it had been turned into what smelled better than anything he'd ever cooked with store-bought ingredients.

He hadn't been allowed to eat it thought.

With that Tom smiled at him, teeth missing and all, yet still somehow not disturbing, and told him to enjoy, and let him know if he wanted more. Hadrian smiled back, thanked him, and ignored the sudden surge of longing for Victoria's smile. He just settled in to eat, devouring the entire plate in a short amount of time. Tom happily plied him with seconds, and Hadrian cleared that too, and his cup never seemed to run dry, no matter how much of the pleasantly sweet drink he had.

Attempting to pay resulted in a rather similar thing as it had all day; a smile and a wave off; how could he accept payment from their savior on his first day back in their world? Instead he just handed him a key, told him which room was his, and bid him goodnight. Grateful and still unsure how to react to all of this, Hadrian just accepted it and went upstairs.

With a full belly, exhaustion long since creeping in, and a body more relaxed and pleased than he'd ever experienced, Hadrian could be forgiven for forgetting what awaited him in his room. When he opened the door, stepped in, and closed behind him, he didn't see the two bodies kneeling, both gazing adoringly at him. Their words caused him to jump, turning in shock to view his servants.

"Welcome, Master. What would you like?" Something slammed into him with all the force of a train, and Hadrian's eyes didn't know where to look first.

Two women knelt before him, each in form fitting robes that only went down to mid-thigh and had a deep enough V below the neck that he could see every inch of cleavage, and it felt like it went on forever. Blue eyes and Brown eyes, each set in flawlessly beautiful faces, begged him for attention, ruby red lips painted perfectly enough and plump enough to draw the eye. Long, gorgeous black hair framed them both, styled beautifully to draw attention to those perfect faces, and curves that would have had any man drooling even without the strange force that drew the eye completed the picture. The women had no mercy on their Master; lips parting slightly and both pairs of eyes eagerly devouring his form.

Caught off guard by the two goddesses that belonged to him, Hadrian wound up answering honestly. He just wanted to sleep. There was no disappointment, no hesitation; before he could even register it he was being stripped by gorgeous older women for the third time that day. Carried to the bed, Hadrian didn't have the energy or the desire to deny them as they hesitated only long enough to shuck their own clothes before crawling into bed with him.

Sandwiched in a three-way-hug of delightful proportions, Hadrian fell asleep after multiple goodnight kisses from his goddesses, after a promise from them that they would wake him up in time to get to the store when he managed to murmur it out in between those kisses.

And so ended Hadrian's first day back in the Magical World, cuddled between to nearly alien beauties that he owned, after a day of gifts and delights, and the promise that so much more would follow on the morrow. A chapter had closed in his life, the chapter of misery and hatred; all that was left was the beauty of the future, which promised to be so wonderful that he couldn't comprehend it. The next day would come far too soon, but with surprises so delightful and pleasant that nothing before this day could even come close to matching it.

He had entered The Magical World, a world unlike any other. What would happen, what could happen…it was all up to him.

Authors Note: So, this is the first chapter, roughly 63000 words. I am going with multiple fanfiction cliché's, I am aware of this, but it also makes sense to me. The expanded trunk I've always enjoyed, and this one was made with Ronan's description in mind; a trunk that Hadrian will use throughout his life. The main issue I've always had with the diagon alley shopping sprees is that they get all this wonderful stuff, and it's never mentioned again; I may fall into that trope, but I am actively trying not to. The trunk fades in and out of view for Hadrian depending on how much attention he pays to it; it followed him all day, and will until such a point as he tells it to stay rather than follow him.

Yes, I created the headache solely to give Hadrian longer hair, yes the potion the goblins gave him is doing things to his body that he is unaware of, yes the two servants are 100% slaves trained from birth. Goblins aren't human, and you will do well to remember this if you continue to read this story. There's a reason I included "Magical Creatures aren't reskinned humans" in my original warning after all. The next chapter will be up after a while; I have to type the bitch up first, and considering this behemoth is just under half the size of the entirety of my previous largest story "The Shinobi Way", which is shit, be aware that it will take some time. Also, in case anyone is curious and didn't pick it up, Rose Brown isn't anywhere near the kind of woman to throw herself all over people, even celebrities. However, as she thought over several times, if Hadrian went to the Daily Prophet, or even just complained about her store somewhere where a reporter could hear, she would be ruined. It's not entirely clear yet, but the amount of power Hadrian wields in the Wizarding World is massive, and could easily break any store by giving them a bad review.

The servants will be fleshed out more next chapter, as will more of Diagon and Hadrian himself. He's been rather overwhelmed all day, and it's gonna get worse before it gets better. Also, you should see fully the style of limes I'm going for until Hadrian ages up a bit. Snogging, petting, and worship is it; no actual oral or penetration for the moment, though that may change late second year/summer before third as Hadrian starts to enter puberty. If anybody wasn't clear on it, I tried to keep the allure semi-lore friendly. Considering the only real example we have of Veela Allure is in fourth year, where even one "quarter veela" could overwhelm boys of all ages, I'm working off the assumption that a fully grown and experienced Veela's allure would be more than anyone with no exposure to it can resist, to say nothing of the fact that before today Hadrian had had no form of positive reinforcement that he could remember. Honestly, all things considered, it's a miracle how well Harry held up in canon.

I give fair warning to anybody who has gotten this far into the story; this story is going to cover a lot of shit, and a lot of stuff that isn't canon, which means OC's. It also means that Hadrian is going to go through a lot of shit that canon Harry never did, and never would.

This story isn't beta'd by anyone, so there may be spelling errors that I haven't caught. Feel free to point them out; I make no promises, but I might try to fix them. Do work off the assumption that if this chapter has been up for six months, somebody has mentioned them and I'm too lazy to fix them though.

Till next time.