Hadrian was in the realm of Morpheus when he saw her. She looked the same as she did that day when he found himself in a cavern with no way out.
Astarael.
"Hello Grandmother," said Hadrian. A few galleons to the goblins had provided a complete family tree. As Hadrian had suspected since finding the journal, his father's line came from the Peverell family.
The creators of the Deathly Hallows.
Astarael smiled at him.
"It is good to see that you understand the truth, young Abhorsen. I am proud that one of mine line chose to put the power my bloodline has to good use," she said. As she was not in the castle, nor was she speaking in waking, Hadrian had little cause to fear her.
Being of her blood gave him limited protection from her voice. Just enough that he could stay in Life in her presence, but not enough to protect him should she start to sing.
"I always wondered why whistling worked just as well as the Bells. Now I know," said Hadrian.
"You are the first of my line to take up the Bells to lay the Dead to rest. It is my blood that allows you the power to send those who have died to their final rest. There is also the matter of these...Deathly Hallows."
Hadrian frowned. Ever since he read that story something never sat right about it.
"The Peverell brothers didn't meet Death. They used the power of your blood to bind Death's Waters into physical form, didn't they?"
Astarael nodded. It was the most idiotic thing they could have done, for Death and it's waters were never meant to be on this side of Life.
"They accidentally discovered their heritage, and being the fools they were, decided to experiment with it. The end result was that they bound three of Death's aspects into the Hallows. The power over Life, the power to bind the dead on this side to speak, and the power to hide inside Death itself."
Hadrian grimaced.
"And since I am the last of the Peverell line, and you are unable to interact on this side of the Veil, not to mention the damage it would cause if you actually came, I'm stuck cleaning up after their mess."
She nodded.
"There is also the matter of this...Lord Voldemort. He has defied Death's Laws, and he must be put down permanently or the tentative balance will break. Because of your heritage, you were allowed to slip into the past and be in two places at once until the timeline corrects itself naturally."
Hadrian's grimace only grew with this information.
"Dammit...I was hoping his little stunt pulling me into the past was a fluke. I wasn't expecting it to be planned."
"You will, of course, be compensated for this mess. Once you leave school grounds or England's shores, you will assume your true age as long as no one from Hogwarts is nearby. You will have your vacation," Astarael promised.
"Well that's something at least. I suppose I could put up with being eleven again with a reward like that. I'm going to have to deal with the Dead if I see them though, aren't I?"
"Your status as an Abhorsen, whether by blood adoption or training, will draw you to areas that have a high concentration of the Dead. Fortunately they won't be more than a fourth or fifth gate Denizen at most. This far from the Greater Charter stones means that they have more trouble getting out. You'll be unlucky to find anything more than third gate."
"Like Peeves. I understand how they've managed to stabilize, but how long will that last?"
"As long as the Charter Stone remains unbroken, they will stay that way indefinitely. The sendings of this castle draw their power straight from that stone, and the ghosts took on that aspect when they were assimilated by the sending's magic. Because those that die here were originally magical, the ability to drain Life away from the living was turned into they icy touch of Death's waters."
"So that icy cold sensation everyone feels if they go through a ghost...is them feeling the current directly? That explains a lot actually," mused Hadrian.
"I must leave. Dawn approaches, and when you wake my voice shall become deadly once more. I can only talk to my descendant's through dreams, for this is a place where Death cannot go."
"Shall I see you again, Grandmother?" asked Hadrian.
"Perhaps. Once you obtain a stronger connection to the Peverell brothers, I shall appear. You are the first civil conversation I have had in eons," said Astarael.
She could not linger here, not without good reason. To do so would invite utter disaster, and she wasn't that desperate for someone to talk to.
Hadrian opened his eyes and prepared to great the day once more.
It was a new beginning to something he had yet to fully understand, and he knew this journey would be as big a challenge as the one they had faced sealing Kerrigor away for good.
He could only hope his faith in the Charter stood him well.
Hadrian's senses over Death was acting up again. It always happened around Quirrel, though why he had no idea. While the man was an idiot, Hadrian had no reason to suspect that the man was carrying a dead spirit this far from the Old Kingdom.
Still, for his Death sense to act up every time the man came near...
Hadrian started to wear his Bells every time he went to that class as a precaution after the fourth time it happened.
Today though...today it was off the charts. Hadrian felt that something bad was about to happen. So he carried his full armor under the robes, not that anyone cared.
The last time a teacher had tried to make him leave it in his trunk, he had demonstrated it's reflective quality that made curses and the like bounce off. Considering his status as 'boy-who-lived', they reluctantly allowed it.
Today he had his full halberd on, and his Charter spelled dagger. Unlike the Peverells brothers, who had fumbled when sealing the aspects of Death into the Hallows, Hadrian had made his dagger with care and knowing what went where.
It had been a mark of passage for the children of the Abhorsen house to make their own weapons in the old days. Hadrian had to undergo it just so he could be sent out into the Kingdom without back up under his father's strict rules.
He had managed it at fifteen, allowing him to help his father send the dead back where they properly belonged.
After exams were over, Hadrian wandered around the castle. Hermione had been suitably distracted with a rare book Hadrian had with him that she was now determined to translate (it was a common book in Ancelstierre on how the border patrol was made and worked) and the others had taken the hint to leave him be.
When Hadrian wanted to be left alone, they left him alone. To do otherwise tended to get you hexed rather quickly.
Following his 'death sense', he went to the third corridor which he had no interest in.
It was roughly after dinner, so there was little chance anyone would come looking for him. Hadrian ignored the Cerberus, having put it to sleep using a small Charter mark. He dropped down the trap door, following nothing by his death sense. He picked the lock, beat the chess set in five moves, and went past the troll. It took a moment for him to go past the potion's riddle, not that it bothered him.
It wasn't until he reached the final room that his death sense kicked into overdrive.
Standing before an innocent looking mirror, was Quirrel.
"Potter! I should have known you would follow me in here," sneered Quirrel.
"I should have trusted my instincts from the start. I could have ended this nonsense early on," replied Hadrian.
It seemed his suspicions about the nature of his death sense acting up was correct. Quirrel was possessed by a Dead spirit, one he likely knew was there. If he did know, then there was little reason for Hadrian to keep him alive.
"To whom, may I ask, am I addressing?" drawled Hadrian. The longer he stalled, the less chance Quirrel or his passenger would realize that Hadrian was merely buying time.
Time to draw a bell that is.
"Let me speak to him..." hissed a voice. Hadrian's right eyebrow shot up.
Normally the dead spirits had enough sense not to speak in the presence of an Abhorsen, if only to draw out their stay in the body. However this one wasn't as smart. Even when cornered, the Dead generally killed their host and attacked. This one was either an idiot...or the one possessing Quirrel didn't know how things went.
He was betting on both.
Quirrel unfurled his turban, and to Hadrian's disgust there was a face hiding in the back of the man's head.
"Oh for Charter's sake, you really are an idiot aren't you? Why in the name of the Charter would you let something that hideous on the back of your damn head?" said Hadrian.
"Silence, you insufferable brat! How a filthy half breed like you managed to get into the noble house of snakes I will never understand!" hissed the spirit.
"Who are you anyway?"
"I AM LORD VOLDEMORT YOU INGRATE!"
"The same moron who tried to kill me and widowed my mother?" asked Hadrian.
Voldemort hissed at him, almost snakelike.
Hadrian had heard enough.
"Give my regards to Astarael when you see her," he said dryly.
He might not have spent a lot of time outside the Veil, but even he knew allowing a Dead spirit to rant was a dumb idea.
Better to get his kicks in first.
In a perfect figure eight pattern, Hadrian used Saraneth to bind Voldemort to his will. A simple whistle sent him deep into Death's waters, and Quirrel to his next destination. The fact that most wizards generally couldn't resist Death's embrace meant that the chances of their spirit getting sidetracked this side of the Veil were almost zilch.
Hadrian frowned, as he had gone into death to insure they went past the gates.
Quirrel went in, but for some reason Voldemort's spirit was stopped at the second gate, and it fled somewhere else.
Hadrian breached life just in time to find the mirror staring innocently back at him.
"Now what in the Charter did he want with this thing?" he asked. He watched as his reflection pulled out a red stone, almost like a blood ruby but the wrong shade. It placed the stone inside his pocket, and vanished.
Hadrian reached into that pocket to find the stone.
"I don't know what this is, nor do I care. Either way I might as well take it with me," said Hadrian tiredly. All he wanted at this point was sleep.
Yawning, Hadrian spotted a small side door. Since didn't feel like dealing with whatever teacher came to investigate, he headed towards it.
But for good measure he destroyed the mirror, just to insure questions wouldn't be asked.
Dumbledore reached the third floor thirty minutes after Hadrian found the discreet back door into the room. Dumbledore had put the mirror in a place where he could go to and from without having to deal with the dog.
He found a pile of ashes, Quirrel's clothes, and the broken remains of the Mirror of Erised.
He had no idea where the stone was, only that the wards had been tripped forty five minutes ago after he got an urgent message from the Ministry.
He had no idea what went down here, but he intended to find out.
Hadrian was staring at the strange rock he had found in that room. He had no interest in it other than to find out what it was.
He was so bored. The end of the year couldn't come fast enough for him.
Fortunately he had another two days before he could go on his vacation. He replaced the stone back in his necklace, and put up a series of photos on the wall.
That done, he tossed a dart at random to find where he would take off.
"Hmm, Bahamas. Fun and sun, here I come!" grinned Hadrian.
"So where are you going on vacation Hadrian?" asked Neville. Hadrian had announced that his 'family' was going on vacation somewhere tropical.
"No idea. Just that I have to renew my passports," said Hadrian. He looked more relaxed now that Quirrel was gone and he was leaving the school.
Hadrian's only stop was to get a passport and vaccinations, before he hit the beach. With the promise that he would become his actual age once he left England, there wasn't a chance he was going to spend his summer with those things!
"You seem happier. Something good happen?"
"Just glad to be leaving England for a few months. I would say that I don't understand how you stand the muggy atmosphere, but to be honest in the Old Kingdom it's often worse," said Hadrian.
"Be sure to write us Hadrian," said Hermione.
"I'm sure my bird will enjoy the exercise," Hadrian said calmly. Hedwig was still on the other side of the Veil, which meant Snowfire would be his only way to send letters.
It was a miracle the Headmaster hadn't figured out that there was another phoenix in the area.
"Lord Abhorsen, you grace us with your visit," said the goblin guards.
In order to leave England, Hadrian had adopted an illusion to hide his age and walked into Gringotts in full mail, complete with sword, bandolier and bag.
"Greetings, Sharpfang. I assume Lord Ragnok got my request?"
The goblin bowed, shocking many of the normal wizards and witches. Goblins never showed respect to a mere human.
"King Ragnok has everything you requested. Please follow me," said Sharpfang.
This set off a large amount of whispers and rumors with the patrons of the bank. Who could possibly garner that much respect from goblins, who barely tolerated humans at the best of times?
"Greetings Lord Abhorsen," said Ragnok with a bow.
Goblins respected him for one reason...the Abhorsen line was one of warriors, born and bred. If not for them, the world would be overrun by the dead, instead of just limited to the Old Kingdom. They risked their lives to keep everyone safe, human or otherwise.
The fact they showed respect to fellow warriors was just a perk.
"Greetings King Ragnok."
"The vaccinations are in here, and your passport and 'muggle' card are in this wallet. There is enough paper currency to pay for a trip and back the muggle way, though the port key is much faster. We also have a translation charm for you, and a map with all the sights."
"Good. I knew I could trust the goblin clans to put everything in order. How many were involved in this endeavor?"
"Ten goblins in all, as well as the two humans who interacted with the muggles," said Ragnok.
"Give them all fifty galleons extra for their hard work, and sixty for yourself. I plan to fully enjoy my vacations between that dull school, even if I was conscripted into this assignment."
"Very well. Have a safe vacation, My Lord."
"May your gold always flow and your enemies fall before you. Charter bless," said Hadrian.
"May your gold flow and your legend go before you. Charter bless," answered Ragnok.
"WHOO HOO! CANNONBALL!" shouted Hadrian as he took a flying leap off a small cliff into the ocean below. One cannonball later, and he was enjoying his swim. The rush of the water as he plunged deep into the ocean was a thrill he thoroughly enjoyed.
Because of the amount of walking he had to do, his body was fitter than most. The amount of whistling he did to fly his paperwings meant he could hold his breath for a long time.
And due to the nature of his work, he didn't get breaks like this very often. Neither did Sabriel, and he knew his sister could use one.
It was part of the reason he was training those children in the Charter. A little known by-law of the Abhorsen family allowed for apprentices, so long as the teaching stayed in the family. He would pick a few of the kids he taught and adopt them into the family, thus getting around that little quirk.
The end result would be that they would help deal with the dead, allowing the 'true' Abhorsen to take a break.
"Ah! There's nothing like a vacation!" said Hadrian, taking a long pull of his drink. It was alcoholic, but since his true age was well over 21, they didn't bother him about it.
Hadrian did a lot of things. He even got a tan, which was something he never had before. Eventually he left the Bahamas with plenty of souvenirs.
His next stop (once again chosen by throwing a dart at a picture) was Russia. Seeing those sights were really interesting, and he actually impressed some of the locals because he never bothered with a coat.
Accidentally stumbling onto Durmstrang was interesting, as he spoke to the local star Victor Krum. The boy was glad to talk to someone who didn't gush about his Quidditch talent. Hadrian spent the rest of his vacation in Russia, learning the history and occasionally talking to Krum.
The boy was glad to have such a wealthy sponsor who had little interest in his chances of going pro in the Quidditch leagues.