A/N: Wow I was not expecting the response I got! Thank you for all of your support! And sorry for the long quote but it really sets the tone for the story.
Now on to why there has been such a long wait between chapters: Well the first and foremost reason is that I broke 2 of the bones in my hand and fractured another. I broke the metacarpals (the verticals bones in the palm of your hand) of my pointer and middle finger and fractured the metacarpal of my index finger. And if you truly want to know: a front door, and an argument were involved. Also, this story has long chapters and a complicated story line which makes chapters harder to write. This story shall be updated according to quality, not quantity, unlike my other stories.
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"We shall not always plant while others reap
That golden increment of bursting fruit
Not always countenance, abject and mute,
That lesser men should hold their brothers cheap;
Not everlasting while others sleep
Shall we beguile their limbs with mellow flute,
Not always bend to some more subtle brute;
We were not made eternally to weep.
The night whose sable breast relieves the stark,
White stars is no less lovely being dark,
And there are buds that cannot bloom at all
In light, but crumple, piteous, and fall;
So in the dark we hide the heart that bleeds,
And wait, and tend our agonizing seeds."
-"From the Dark Tower" by Countee Cullen.
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Hadrian Vega Potter must have been only about three and a half years old when he started noticing things. Shapes, objects, colors collecting in his supposedly sightless eyes. Random paint strokes of mish-mashed colors. Foggy figures on a black space, some looked foggier, more solid, others had brighter spots in the glowing fog, like stars, or the nebulae Remus had tried to describe to Hadrian once. Truly the boy was too young to truly realize what the shapes meant.
The shapes, the figures, they made Hadrian curious. And like any curious child, Hadrian went to his closest parent, his mother.
Hadrian carefully let the stick in front of him make gentle scraping sounds on the floor, revealing to him hidden objects. The stick was just that, a stick, made from the broken handle of a non-magical broom his mother had once used to sweep the humble, non-magical home of Godric's Hollow. His parents had elected to not purchase a true walking stick for the toddler at least until he was larger. At three and a half years old the pale child walked slowly in concentration towards the kitchen where he heard dishes being clanged together.
They had no house elves, after an argument given by his mother, and Lily was the only one who chose to do housework.
As Hadrian carefully started stepping he glanced at the curious bubbles floating in obscure places in the black of his vision. The ones that did not move were often odd colors. The ones that seem suspended in the black were an odd fluorescent yellow color. Not very solid in shape, they resembled bubbles of dust and didn't appear to be very viscous. Others appeared more as boxes and cylinders in a neon orange color and seemed thicker in appearance, they seem to be laying on the invisible bottom edge of the black. The same place Hadrian supposed were where his feet touched. Sometimes he had to push the colors out of the way with his 'walking stick'.
As he glided gracefully toward his mother he saw the grand fog. Much thicker than the shapes around it; it was a myriad of three different colors. The base of the fog was a sea foam green, harvest moon orange swirled in the unseen currents and a metallic bronze swam and dipped and disappeared into the innocent sea foam green. The grand fog was a generally humanoid shape and its colors swam in its own current. It seem to stand in the spot where Hadrian guessed his mother was standing.
Hadrian's nose crinkled in mild thought before he continued on his brave journey and called out,
"Ma'a! I ca' see!"
Hadrian watched enamored as the swirls of the fog in front of him swam in a faster current in agitation. Perhaps it was a bittersweet gift that Hadrian could not see the small sneer overtake his mother's normally quite placid face.
"That's silly Harry. You're blind. That means you can't see."
Hadrian looked up at his mother, unseeing, bright green eyes wide in indignity.
"Ma'a! My na'e Ha'rian! No' Harry!"
Hadrian appeared to think briefly, color rising on pale, high cheekbones.
"An' I can see. I see co'ors!"
Hadrian witnessed the colors roil in agitation before he saw the fog move. At the same moment Hadrian felt sharp fingernails grab at his earlobe harshly,
"Harry, stop lying! You know you cannot see! Now up to your room!"
The red headed woman yanked harshly on his ear as if to throw him. The small three year old only stumbled slightly before turning away from the grand fog and trekking back a careful path up the wooden staircase to his bedroom. It was in this moment that Hadrian Vega Potter learned to be silent.
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After that moment was the time in which the elder Potters once again started living as if they did not have children. They constantly were in and out of the magic-less home of Godric's Hollow. They spared their eldest son Alexander no crumb of attention. While the younger more elegant twin was ever so cruelly and gently pushed to the wayside. Young Hadrian rarely received any positive attention from his parents. His twin followed their example in ignoring the noble looking young boy.
Due to his parents seemingly perpetual absence and ever rotating absentminded nannies, no one noticed when the young boy's health started to take a sharp downward turn. Young Hadrian became readily exhausted, often holing up in his bed, the rich walking stick given to him by his godfather sitting unused next to his nightstand.
Mild fevers and a never-ending feeling of cold often fought for dominance in young Hadrian's weakening immune system. He often struggled to find a happy balance between comforters and cold water bottles. The nannies were consistently quitting; unable to deal with the spoiled Alexander and the troubles of watching his blind and physically weaker little brother, whom stared at them with his supposedly sightless eyes.
After a year and a half of ever rotating nannies, just past the twins' birthdays, the Potters had finally run out of professional wizarding nannies. Calling in a favor, the adult Potters decided to have Augusta Longbottom watch over the boys.
James grabbed the runaway Alexander in his arms and put him on his hip.
"Ready to go see Neville, Prongslet?"
"Yeah!"
"Okay let's go through then."
"Wait, don't we need Brat to go with us?"
James' face scrunched up in an annoyed grimace.
"Boy! Get yourself over here!"
The two impatient males waited for the smaller boy. Finally, they heard it, the soft clicking and tapping sound of the young Hadrian pushing away Alexander's disused toys to find the figures standing in front of the rather humble red brick fire place.
Hadrian gradually made his way through the doorway, the dark brown mahogany walking stick entering before him. A snarl crossed James' tan features as he caught sight of the glass knob on the top of the cane glinting from between the thin white fingers of the too thin boy. A small Celtic style silver ring glinted from the small boy's pinky finger. The ring had a small eye shaped clump of blue glass of the exact same shade of the knob of the cane. Little coincidence that ring had a direction charm placed on it in order to locate the walking stick. It was also an inconsequential fact that Hadrian could in fact 'see' the cane as the charm had imbued magic into it. It was a smooth apple red slithering sliver that Hadrian often associated with his Godfather Sirius.
Hadrian gradually stepped up near his father as James' grabbed the back of the high Mandarin collar of the formal grey silk robes, a gift from his Godfather's mate Remus. The grey silk was fur lined and had three gold clasps that kept it closed, on his chest; it also had a set of charms that Hadrian could adjust the temperature of the robe when he pressed on the top, middle, or bottom clasp. All in all, it was quite the rich thing and contrasted sharply in comparison to James' and Alexander's Muggle clothing.
All in all, the smallest Potter looked like a little pureblood, or at least he did as he was pushed into the Fireplace after his father called out "Longbottom Manor- Parlor Room!"
The dark haired boy stumbled as he stepped out of the white stone hearth. His walking stick left a shape-able bruise on the pallid skin of his abdomen as he tripped over it in his unexpected tumble out of the green fire of the Floo. He was confronted with the swirling white dust motes that created the astringent atmosphere of Longbottom Manor.
Hadrian's vision filled with the swirling motes but he didn't have the chance to examine them as he felt his Father come out of the Floo, at his back.
"Ah, Lady Longbottom."
Hadrian looked around vaguely, luckily the 'dust motes' were thin enough in viscosity that he could see the swirling mass glide before him and his father and his brother. The mass was an austere white, much purer than the swirling motes around it, small flecks of bronze shone and disappeared in the currents while a daffodil yellow strip swirled from its head to its feet like a forever moving yet stagnant candy stripe. Above the figure's head there was a somewhat bird shaped area in which the 'dust motes' floated around in eddies and currents.
"Lord Potter. And who are these young gentleman whom you've brought with you?"
James Potter coughed at the mildly barbed comment,
"This is my son Alexander James, and that's Harry."
Hadrian's finely pointed black eyebrow twitched in a frustration most five-year-old's never knew, the tick became embarrassment as his older twin belched and said,
"Lady, I'm the Saviour."
Hadrian could hear Alexander's feet hit the marble floors as James put him down and took the Floo back to Godric's Hollow. No farewell.
He heard Alexander's footsteps patter away from him and the noblewoman. He also vaguely noted that the cream coloured figure that seemed to appear in his brother's presence also trotted away. Hadrian looked back up to the candy-striped mass as he heard the Lady huff. Luckily, Hadrian had learned the skill of using his harsh consonants yet his voice retained a melodious, soft voice yet one the ears strained to listen for.
"Good afternoon, Lady Longbottom. I'm sorry to trouble you. I am Hadrian Vega Potter. Please call me Hadrian."
The young boy ended his greeting with a shiver and then briefly drag a fingertip up the diamond shaped Celtic clasp holding the grey silk robe together. He nearly immediately stopped shivering as the Heating Charm went to work.
Augusta Longbottom peered down at the young child in calculation. Finally, she thought, a Potter with manners.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, young Hadrian. You may call me Lady Augusta. Shall we go find the other children?"
Hadrian nodded, his black locks bouncing on his forehead. He turned to the older woman and briefly held out a bent hand. Realizing the boy's intention, she allowed the pale child to grab onto her woolen robe sleeve as she slowly led him to the gardens.
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Hadrian sat on the stone bench in the ever fragrant garden. As a warm breeze passed, his green eyes moved from the large leather tome that he had dragged there to an approaching mass of light. The cream figure moved closer allowing Hadrian to see the orange polka-dots on the cream mass. A mass he often associated with his brother; and was vastly differently to the off-white dust motes that's swirled in galaxies at Longbottom Manor.
Little did Hadrian know, as he adjusted the golden fleur-de-lys style clasps of his robes, that the leather tome from which he was pretending to read was upside down. The pale child ignored the approaching footsteps as he analyzed the yellow color of the tome.
Alexander James Potter was wrathful as he stomped moodily along the grey flagstone path. The shy boy, Neville, had refused to play some tricks on his twin. And when he pushed the slightly tanned boy, he had simply squeaked and ran off to go take care of some Dandy Lion hidden in the depths of the intricate garden.
The red head saw his younger twin and snarled. The little, blind idiot couldn't even read. Alexander stomped over to Hadrian and snatched the upside down book from his thin arms. The pale boy quickly stood from the bench and grabbed his walking stick, emerald eyes wide in fear.
"Alexander! Please give me the book back."
"No way! You can't even read!"
"Alexander, please!"
The red head became more enraged as his handicapped, younger twin implored him for the heavy, leather tome.
"No! You can't even read you're blind!"
Tears pooled in the 'sightless' verdant eyes.
"Alexander, don't! I can see! I promise!"
The stronger red head just threw the leather tome, and it hit the flagstones with a flat thwap. Anger infused itself into the teary verdant eyes.
"You're just jealous because I can talk to the snakes in the garden and you can't!"
A blush and a sneer overtook the older Potters face, twisting the rounded features in a grimace of anger.
"No, I'm not! Besides Dad says snakes are dark and evil!"
Hadrian reared back from his brother. He whispered,
"No, no! It's not true! It's not!"
"It is! You're a little Deatheater!"
With that crystal tears dribbled down noble cheek bones, and Alexander snatched away his younger twin's cane. Unfortunately, Hadrian's grip on his walking stick was so harsh that Alexander flew back after that pale hand failed in its objective.
It was a slow fall. It was a harsh fall. Alexander twisted and the smooth mahogany of the walking stick caught between Alexander's heavy body and the white stone bench. A sickening snap, like the wringing of a rabbit's neck, pierced the warm, humid air of the garden. Hadrian's skin grew cold at the wet snap. The charm on the ring no longer pointed anywhere. Fat tears dribbled quicker down the already wet furrows on the place cheeks.
Hadrian ran.
He ran past thick blues and reds, and places where the ever present dust motes refused to fly. He ran past murmurings of the Malfoy Lord being left with an infant son after his adulteress-wife left. He saw a thicker white path on which he ran, colours and absences of colour following the corners of his eyes.
Hadrian Vega Potter could see-the wild beauty of magic.
He watched thick streams of a dark grey and green fog twirl gently. Those thick streams attached to an even thicker river moving with a slow current. He ran towards it, an escape from his brother and his soon to appear father. He felt the exhaustion and those seemingly permanent aches in his bones try to possess the last of his strength. The streams became agitated as he continued running with wet, labored breaths. He jumped on what he thought to be mangled roots, unknowingly appeasing the tree as he climbed those tumultuous branches.
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Seeing the intimidating figures accrue around the whipping tree, Hadrian cowered closer to trunk, black hedgehog-like hair quivering. The child's joints ached and he shivered from some unseen cold.
Commanding yells came from the direction of his father and brother. In response the dark haired boy pushed harder into the smooth trunk and bit the pewter ring on his pinky. He wished everything in his power that his Godfather and his mate would be the ones he would climb down the tree to. The silver ring only left a mild metallic taste on the boy's tongue. Shriller plaintive whines begging for him to come down the tree came from the direction of Augusta Longbottom and a smaller signature Hadrian didn't recognize.
Those voices must have been extremely worried.
Slowly the thin—too thin—child climbed down the tree with pale skeletal hands and weak legs shaking beneath torn grey silk.
He cautiously slunk up to the figures representing his relatives. Suddenly he saw the lavender grey mass whip out and he felt it viciously come in contact with the paleness of his cheeks with a harsh slap. Hadrian's entire body fell to the floor with the harshness of the blow and its ever present sting and soreness. He then felt himself pulled up by the Mandarin collar of his robe.
A gruff,
"Sorry 'bout this, Augusta," reached Hadrian's ringing ears. If he could have seen facial features, he would have seen the infamous Augusta Longbottom thin her lips and nod rigidly. As it was he only saw the unknown mass wave shyly as he was pulled around. The struck boy simply folded his hand in half twice, his fingers bending to touch the palm of his hand, in a farewell. James Fleamont Potter simply re-affirmed his grip and dragged the pained Hadrian along more harshly.