Please let me know what you think, I have been feeling really uninspired lately. Reviews really help give me inspiration. Do you like where I'm going, is anyone even still reading?
Big thanks to DemonKira for editing, you really help me out.
Willows weeping edged the space, Oaks so tall, they seemingly reached the sky. Grass a lustrous green flowing into meadows of beautiful white flowers. This is what made up the far eastern gardens of Slytherin Manor. Shrouded by a 20 foot brick wall - which was cover in flowing ivy, neatly trimmed to line the wall.
Cobble stone pavements made a trail throughout, all lined with the Oaks and Willows. A small opening to a garden, only big enough for one person at a time to gain entrance, sat exactly 789 acres away from the mansion. It had a beautiful wooden archway, threaded with the same white flowers. The garden, named "Snakes Pit", was positively beautiful.
This was Hadrian's favorite garden in all of Slytherin's land. A great place to go and think. The dark pull coming from the west still held much curiosity within the raven, but after his little meeting with the vampires, he thought better of exploring them in further detail. Last he risk punishment from the dark lord again. No the "Snake Pit" gardens were private, almost secret with how hidden they were.
Looking up at the full moon sky Hadrian took in a deep of clean air. Magically lit lanterns were attached to the trees throughout the garden, creating light for any who would enter at night. Hadrian sat up a bench that was off the side of the path, in between two oak trees. It was the perfect spot to finally do that one ritual he had been planning. He had planned to do it the night he fell victim to the basilisk, before leaving Hogwarts. He'd been waiting for the full moon to rise again ever since.
Looking down at Mavericks first book, he read over the ritual. The ritual was an enhancer of sorts, it didn't require any ingredients. Only runes, magic, and a little bit of the casters blood. It was a very ancient runic ritual, which Maverick took and tweaked to fit his own needs. It enhanced one's mind, body, soul, and magic with a perfect mixture of pure light and dark magic. It didn't make you smarter, stronger, or even more powerful. But it did enlighten the true nature of their soul, leaving you at your most potent in all aspects.
It was genius in Hadrian opinion, and he couldn't wait to give it a try. Soon the moon would reach its axis, and then it would be go time. Hadrian rose from his sitting position and directly in front of Hadrian was a clear diameter of cobblestone, where three different paths met to the single one at the entrance. It was just big enough for the drawing of runes.
Wand in hand, Hadrian began the process of drawing the intricate runes on the stone. Using only magic as the ritual dictates. A circle roughly the size of a 20 inch tire, full of many intricate swirls, squiggles, and shapes made up the inside. Small writing scripted in ancient Latin bordered around the circle in a rhythmic pattern. It all came together to look like an abstract circular painting made of light. An inherent mixture of black and white lighting, mixed like a checkered board only with different shapes.
Hadrian looked upon his handiwork, imagining it being a portrait of the sun and moon in unison and perfect harmony, if only the two were truly proportionate. It was a nice though if nothing else. It reminded him of a yin and yang circle, only within more added within. Once properly evaluated, Hadrian found there to be no flaws within his own work. Everything was ready for the ritual to begin.
Shedding away the fancy robes given to him by Lord Voldemort, Hadrian quickly began undressing. Only his boxers would remain for the ritual, luckily the area he was in was heavily isolated, and the dark lord himself was currently preoccupied. It's not as if Hadrian was embarrassed by his body, modesty was by no means an important quality to the raven. He simply was not used to being so…exposed, he preferred to do his workings and everything else for that matter, in private.
His body matched his face, creamy white, and a true sight to behold. Hadrian was slim and quite lean, with a light dusting of muscles. He wasn't too terribly skinny, neither was he overly built. Most would find his body quite attractive, as would they find his face. Yes he was quite a beautiful site indeed. Once Hadrian was in the proper state of undress, he keeled before the circle of runes. The moon now shone down directly within the circle. Using his wand the slice open his left palm, Hadrian went to work adding his blood to the already carved runes. He was chanting in a low voice the Latin wordings surrounding the circle. It read like a prayer for inner peace, and strength. For magic to align to what it truly was, and what would be.
His blood continued to flow giving life to the runes, before projecting back towards Hadrian's untouched right palm. The once white and black lighting now was a brilliant blood red. Oddly, Hadrian couldn't help but think, that it was the exact color of the dark lords ruby orbs. Hadrian placed his uncut palm in the middle of the circle and watched, fascinated, as the runes seemed to absorb into his very own skin. There was a painful sting, like a small fire lit within the veins of his right arm, slowly making its way through his body.
The feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant, in an odd way, it sent small tingles of pleasure through his skin. The runes themselves seemed to be growing out from his palm and wrapping its way up and around Hadrian's arm like a spiral. The chanting he had yet to stop seemed to give way to spells that etched the runes into his very skin, almost as if someone was using a knife to carve them. It was truly fascinating indeed.
Just as the runes spiraled around Hadrian's neck, the raven was bathed in direct moonlight. The chant came to an end, as Hadrian's skin began to make a sizzling sound. The pain had now reached not only uncomfortable, but agonizing levels. Hadrian couldn't help but release a loud cry, feeling as if he was being choked. It was hard to breathe. He collapsed into the circle, just as the moonlight no longer directly above him. With one last burn of pain, it felt as if he were on fire, all the runes disappeared in a literal cloud of smoke.
Hadrian closed his eyes as darkness overtook the garden, the smoke blowing out the eternally lit lanterns within. All pain was now gone, and only a deep sense of exhaustion and nausea remained. The ritual was done. Hadrian allowed his tiredness to take over, if only for a second. Allowing darkness to take its hold from within, and shut all the light surrounding him out. Just as his life had always been, an empty mass of darkness, and heavy clouds covering his eyes.
Voldemort was in his study in a meeting with many of his high ranking death eaters. It was high time they started taking the threat of the rebellion seriously. As confident as the dark lord was, he was also well aware of just how being too overconfident, could be his very down fall. He had to put is true inner genius to use this time, had to begin battle strategies. He needed to be two steps ahead of the rebellion at all times.
Even if that meant he had to make preparations for war. If the rebels were able to gather enough support, he could very well be looking at a war. Which would be dangerous, very, very dangerous. The attack on the pureblood orphanage a few weeks back was a borderline declaration of war, one more move such as that and Voldemort would have little choice in the manner.
Rebels had been oddly quiet ever since then, alarmingly so. Voldemort couldn't help but feel as if it was the calm before the storm. The rebels had something big planned, he could feel it. Now the big question was what? And only one answer truly came to mind. Albus Dumbledore.
Lord Voldemort was a truly vain man. He always had been, and always would be. Even during his ghastly upbringing, he knew he was better. He proved it too. He rose above everything and everyone, he rose above those who once sneered down upon him. And now? Well look at him. He ruled England, he beat them all. He still had goals, too. Lord Voldemort would one day very soon, rule the world. He was already close to it.
Within his almost fifteen year reign, he had managed to gain control of most of Europe. He had Germany, Bulgarian, Italy, the entirety of Great Britain, and many more also. For all intents and purposes, Voldemort was the king. Long live the king, and long he would live. The world was his for the taking. A few rebels? He would destroy them. The French, and a few other small countries were against him, but he would win them over or take them by force. He was close to gaining the Russians and the Australians. America was allied with the French against him, also. But it was no matter.
Voldemort would rule it all in time, for now, he had some pest control to do. Albus Dumbledore. In all his self-absorbency, Voldemort had allowed the man to live. Deciding to keep the old wizard prisoner as a way to eternally gloat on his victory. Locking the man within the prison of Nurmengard along with Grindelwald to rot. At the time it seemed perfect, and made him seem like a more merciful lord. He allowed the old professor to live knowing Voldemort could and would kill him at any moment. It was the greatest act of torture.
Now, however, his arrogance seemed to be coming back to bite him. For he could almost bet his life on the fact that Dumbledore was exactly what the rebels were after. The former leader of the light would bring hope to them again, and give a fighting chance to the rebels. Going after Dumbledore, should the rebels succeed, would give them access to Grindelwald too. The rebels would gain a two for one. Perhaps the former light and dark lord would even join forces once again in the face of a common enemy. They were both extreme powerful, there was no mistaking that. The dark lord simply couldn't have either of them running around free.
No, he would have to kill them both tonight.
"Do any of you have any word on the rebels? Where they are hiding? When they will strike? Anyone at all?" He asked the mass of inner circle death eaters. His voice dangerously calm. His palms were itching with the need to kill, he had to move fast, what if the rebels were already there? He needed to know of any movement before he left, lest he find himself falling into a trap of sorts. Of course Voldemort wasn't stupid. He wouldn't go alone, rather he would take an entire army if that is what it took.
Cowards. All of them. Perhaps it was time Voldemort revised his inner circle, as not one death eater dared step forward to talk. It was madness, oh he knew he was frightening, but did no one have a backbone? Briefly Hadrian Snow popped into his mind. That boy had plenty of backbone, the truth serum saw to that. If only he could convince the boy to drop his disgusting little act. Weakness didn't suit the raven. Although, it was a truly beautiful sight seeing him on his knees trying refrain from screaming out in the face of the Cruciatus.
The dark lord forced those kind of thoughts from his mind, he couldn't be thinking about the little Mudblood right now. He had real problems. "Somebody better tell me something about the rebels before I Crucio you all into oblivion." He violently snapped.
Bellatrix Lestrange, one of his only death eater to actually have balls, funnily enough she was a women. The thought made him snort as the half crazed women stepped forward and bowed. "If I may my lord." She spoke in a polite voice, it had a beauty to it, but it also spoke wonders of the women's mind. Bellatrix was surely one of a kind, and almost positively bat shit crazy. Yet she was beautiful. With wild black curls falling to mid back, the wild brown eyes, and pale skin. A true black.
"You may."
"The rebels were last spotted in Germany, but have yet to make any movements. They seem to be hiding out rather well my lord. "She spoke, and Voldemort already knew all of this. He needed to know where the rebels were at that very moment, he already knew they were in Germany. He needed tabs on their every move. Voldemort breed an inside man. Snarling he turned away from his useless followers, he didn't have time for this.
"Lucius, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Barty. The five of you will be joining me, we are going on a little trip." Whispering a command, all five the named death eaters dark marks activated. Before Voldemort apparated away, calling the death eaters to follow. They were going to Nurmengard to put down Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald for good.
Hadrian awoke with a start. It was dark, almost too dark. A chill made its way down his semi naked body, he quickly began searching for his wand. He reached maybe 30 centimeters before grasping hold of it. Casting a quick Lumos, Hadrian got to work relighting the eternal lanterns. It was quite strange how the ritual managed to blow the lights out, but he supposed was it in no way impossible.
Looking down, the circle of runes he drew were gone. As if they were never there in the first place. He no longer felt any pain, his right arm was back to normal no runes remained. His left palm had healed. If the raven wasn't lying outside in the hidden away garden with little more than his boxers on, he may even question whether the ritual even happened at all. He didn't feel any different, but the ritual was only supposed to bring him closer to his true innermost self and strengths. So perhaps that was why?
He sat up, reaching for his clothing that he left of the bench less than a meter away. It was a warm night, but the tiny beads of sweat upon his body caused him to feel chilled. He quickly began to dress. He was in an oddly forlorn mood right now, unable to feel much of anything. Maybe the ritual didn't work? He pushed that thought away as he tasted dark magic in the air, it completely surrounded him and filled his every pore. Perhaps the darkness that lay so heavy around him, had pushed put all traces of light. Maybe that why the lanterns went out? He shivered again as the dark pickled his skin.
Raising from his seated position on the cobblestone path, Hadrian decided to gather the few things he brought down to the garden. Making his way out, he started the long track back to the manor. He was feeling extremely tired all of a sudden. Making his way up the stairs and through the doors of the manor, Hadrian couldn't help but feel like something was off from within.
As he made his way inside, and walked through the empty hallways, it became abundantly clear that he wasn't alone. In fact, he heard several voices as he past the warded door of the dark lord's personal study. Knowing better than to stop, Hadrian sped up his pace towards the grand stairway. He just managed to make it past, when the door slammed open.
The dark lord apparated with a snap, his five chosen death eater disappearing with him in a black cloud of smoke. Severus released a sigh while looking around at the group of blundering idiots the dark lord had left him with. It was almost insulting to be left with this lot. The other death eaters stood shell-shocked for a minute, before moving into easy conversation amongst each other. Severus shook his head, taking the dark lords leave as an obvious dismissal he made his way to the study's door. Knowing the others would be behind him shortly, no one would risk remaining for the dark lord to find them. And everyone knew the dark lord's house elves would watch their each and every move.
Besides he had much better things to do than sit around and socialize. With that he made his way out of the study, robes billowing behind him. He turned in the direction of the floor area, only to see the Snow boy just a few meters down the hall. Severus met Snows eyes, and something was different. There was a strange air about the boy. It had been several weeks since the incident, and one would never guess it ever happened in the first place.
Snow had grown taller, even though only a month had past. Severus wondered what it was like staying with the dark lord, were there any side effects to surviving the basilisk? Clearing all clinical thoughts from his mind, a realization set in on Severus. He knew that the boy was currently a sort of ward of Lord Voldemort, but if any of the other death eaters saw the supposed Mudblood boy, he would be in trouble. The likes of Avery and Nott were quite vicious when it came to Mudbloods. And really, would the dark lord even care if they tortured the boy a bit?
As long as they didn't kill the boy, Voldemort would probably find it funny. The man was brilliant, don't get Severus wrong, but he was also as cold and cruel as they came. He knew Snow was much more that what met the eye, but the boy would allow himself to suffer under a wand in order to keep his secrets. The boy wouldn't drop his mask, it took a lot of probing for him and the dark lord to even get a glimpse through. Well, probing and the truth serum.
He wondered if Voldemort had gotten to see more with the boy staying at Slytherin manor. It was unlikely, the dark lord had been increasingly busy. Had the boy suffered the man's wand yet? It couldn't be easy staying with a dark lord, especially when he held a great interest in Snow. Back to the matter at hand, though, he needed to steer the boy out of the hall before the others made their leave. They wouldn't think twice about torturing the boy, or even worse...Snow was very appealing to the eyes. That thought sent a shiver of disgust through Snape.
The death eaters within the inner circle were not known for their morals. They were cold and cruel. They beat and torture innocent children, if their blood was less-than. They were murders and many were also rapists. The dark lord didn't win the world with kindness.
He won it using fear, oppression, and blunt force. Using whatever means to destroy any opposition and all opponents. The current world was built on Voldemort's enemy's blood. Most were able to turn a blind eye to it all, the people lived in blissful ignorance. But being an inner circle member, Severus Snape didn't have that luxury.
"Snow. It's 2 o' clock in the morning. Why are you wandering the dark lord's halls so late? "His step echoed as he moved closer to the raven haired boy. A small spark lit within the raven, barely noticeable to the untrained eye. The boy had been up to something, Severus could feel it. Throwing suspicion aside, Severus had to get the boy safely to his chambers and away from the death eaters.
"As long as I keep to myself, the dark lord leaves me to my own devices. I was simply taking a walk through the gardens. I find them…relaxing, professor." The boys reply was as sharp as a freshly cut blade, and faster than a lightning strike. He was good, very good.
"Yes, well perhaps tonight isn't the night for….wondering. One never knows who they could run into." He spoke, eyeing the door he just left. "Allow me to escort you upstairs." He knew it would be best, someone could walk out at any given time between Hadrian climbing the grand stairs. It was a long straight way up.
A deeply embedded intelligence shone brightly in the Snow child, who simply nodded and turned his way. As soon as they climbed the stairs and made their way towards the sleeping quarter, Severus felt much safer leaving the boy. But there was still something in the air around Snow, a deep dark magic. At first he was able to push it to the side as the effects of staying close to the dark lord. Voldemort's power was brilliant, but this was something else entirely. Could it be that the boy was too tired to keep his magic hidden? Was this what the boys full, true power felt like?
"Thank you for the escort Headmaster, I find myself to be quite tired. So please excuse me, while I go and get some sleep." Impeccable manners as always. The raven turned and left Shape standing alone in the hall, if the boy truly was Lily's son, what would she think of him now?
The fortress that made up Nurmengard was a masterpiece. Jet black rock walls towering so high, it literally reached the begging clouds in the sky. Grindelwald's very own castle of death, used to entrap his enemies and all who opposed. Voldemort quite liked the idea. Keeping both Gellert and Albus Dumbledore prisoner within, was almost poetic. At the very top of the tower, way up in the sky, was a cell. After defeating Dumbledore, he had divided that cell into two. Entrapping Dumbledore in one half, Grindelwald in the other.
Voldemort had planned to make them spend eternity together, rumors of their former relationship is what dove him to be so very vindictive. Together forever, they can look, but not touch. They can talk, but not hear. They can feel each other's magic, but we're blocked from using it. The received the bare minimum goods for survival, and suffered torture day in and day out. The dark lords only regret being that he missed seeing their suffering. He found their misery hilarious.
Seeing both once powerful men tore down to nothing was priceless.
After his arrival, Voldemort sent his five chosen death eaters to case the place, while he was left to seek out the warden. After assurances that all was well, and the prisoners were where they belonged. Voldemort made his way to the top of the tower. A small area at the top of the stairs made up the entrance to each cell, and a small viewing area. A one sided window made up the majority of the wall. Voldemort looked in on the prisoners, but they couldn't see him.
The rebels had yet to make any moves, both Dumbledore and Grindelwald were still locked away in their cells. Pathetic. Both the older men were slowly but surely withering away. Dumbledore hair fell in thick, grey matted tangles to the mid of his back. His beard just as long, the man was thin. Sickly so, his face wrinkled and entire being grimey. Years of blood, sweat, and filth leaving the man a ghastly skeletal ghost of his former glory. Seeing the man he hated so in such a condition was….enthralling.
Grindelwald looked even worse for wear than Albus. The man's hair had long since fell out, leaving a bald scalp of grease and grime. Wrinkled and looking every bit his proper age, with several teeth missing. The man looked like an ancient golem left to bathe on his own dirt. It was disgusting. And quite frankly, despicable to see just how far the former dark lord had fallen. Grindelwald never deserved that title, not with how easily he fell from grace. Sneering Voldemort opened the cell to the former dark lord's room. It. Was no matter, both the former dark and the former light would die today. He couldn't have the rebels getting to them.
Entering the dark filthy room, he couldn't help but sneer at the dust particles in the air. The room held a small board of wood for a bed (upon which Grindelwald sat) a small torn blanket, which was wrapped around the man. The room was chilly. And a small toilet and sink in the corner, other than that the man was not given any luxuries. Wards and runes were ingrained into every portion of the walls, blocking magic use from any who were not ingrained in them within the room. Also blocking any inner or outer attempts to escape, Dumbledore's cell was identical to this one. There were no lights, no warmth, absolutely nothing.
A bone chilling laugh rang its way through the dark, coming from the pathetic husk of a man sat upon the ballot be. "If it isn't the world renowned dark lord." It can out a whispered sarcastic sneer, gravelly with disuse. "To what do I owe the pleasure of such a visit? What would little Tom Riddle want from me after all this time." Voldemort snarled at the name, whipping his wand onto his hand.
"That. Is. Not. My. Name. I am Lord Voldemort. You will address me with respect you pathetic pile of filth." Pure disgust filled him, hearing that name. He hated it. A quick Cruciatus aimed directly at the man wasn't nearly enough to quell his need to maim. He was infuriated.
Laughing through the effects of the dark torture course, the old man broke out in a toothless grin. "You can hide from the public, you can even hide from yourself. But you can't escape you past. Little half blood, Tom Riddle. Son of a Muggle. You parade yourself around like a king, when your blood is almost as dirty as it comes." Voldemort saw red, he was there to kill, so kill he shall.
The smug toothless grin remained on the hideously tickled face. Sparing a glance at the transparent wall of the stall next door, he saw Albus Dumbledore staring at him. A look of deep failure in the man's once sparkly blue eyes. Voldemort smiled as he cast the spell.
"Avada Kedavra." A jet of green light saw to the end of the former "Great" dark lord, Voldemort watched as the man fell once and for all. A look of pain and shock took over the shell of a man Albus Dumbledore had become. And that, well that just made the dark lord feeling all the more giddy, so the rumors of their special friendship was true? His smile turned into a scowl as relief washed over the old professor's face. Actual relief that his former lovers suffering had finally ended. It was sickening. Exiting Grindelwald cell, he quickly made his day to the former professors. It was time to put an end to Albus Dumbledore once and for all.
Alastor Moody was getting old, he had been fighting for what seemed like a lifetime. The oppression the dark Lord Voldemort brought to the wizarding world, was something the man simply couldn't turn a blind eye too. When the war was won almost 15 years ago, he was a member of the light. An Auror, and an outstanding member within the Order of the Phoenix. He had stood proudly at his good friend Albus Dumbledore side. Fighting against the injustices within the world. But the Dumbledore and the Order fell, and he was left in a world shrouded in darkness.
But he couldn't give up the fight, he couldn't allow the world to continue on. So he and several of the others who made it out alive, banded together. They created a group, a rebellion. They were all already considered fugitives, why give up? No they had to fight and fight they did. Slowly but surely the rebellion built up a following, gaining support, while sitting in the shadows.
They set up base originally in France, one of the only countries safe from Voldemort. There they garnered a secret alliance with the French Military. Politically, they held no connection. But truthfully they were funded and backed by the French, and gaining lots of support from Muggleborns and Half-bloods. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. They were big enough to stand a fighting chance, at least.
They would destroy Voldemort, as well as those in his death eater circle who were not redeemable. Then they would take back the wizarding world. They had a plan in place, and it would work, but not without the help and guidance of the former light lord. They would need Albus Dumbledore. And that's what brought Moody to where he was now, standing right outside of Nurmengard. He and the rebels were there to bust the old man out.
They had been laying low and casing the place for several weeks preparing for this moment. They had every scenario planned out to the tiniest tiny detail. What they didn't plan on, however, was the appearance of the dark lord himself. As well as a handful of death eaters. This was an unneeded complication that they sadly couldn't prevent. Either way, by the looks of things, it seemed Voldemort was on to them. No matter, it was now or never.
He had about two dozen rebels with him for this, they could take on five death eater and a few measly guards. Voldemort would be a problem, but at least Moody could probably hold the man off. At least long enough for the others to abstract Albus. They had to hurry, before the dark lord did something to the old headmaster. Alastor had a feeling he was there to kill the same man they planned on rescuing.
Failure on their part was not an option at this point, they had to get to Dumbledore before the dark lord could kill him. Even if Moody had to sacrifice his own life, he would happily do it for the greater good. Signaling for everyone to move out, Moody breathed in a deep breath of air. It was time for them to go and fight their first true battle, a battle they would win. After all, this is war.
Hadrian awoke with a start. A cold sweat having taken residence up in his brow. It was cold, much to cold. Shivers wracked his body and a deep sense of nausea set in the pit of his stomach. Scrambling from his bed that he'd been sleeping in, the raven rushed his way to the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before heaving up any and all of the contents of his stomach. He felt off. Really off.
He retched and retched till there was nothing left and he was left sitting in the dark. Summoning his wand and casting a quit "tempus" concluded that Hadrian had barely gotten an hour of sleep. It was 3:46 am, of the same exact day. He shouldn't have woken up so soon. A frown set in on his lips, followed by a slight scowl at the taste of vomit. Was it the ritual? Is that what had h feeling so very ill? But no, this was different than that. It was something in the air.
Hadrian stood up slowly, being careful to not set off another bout of nausea. He made his way to the sink, quickly brushing his teeth and washing the sweat from his face. He was still overly chilled for a summer night. Exiting the bathroom he glanced towards the door, contemplating going to the library to find a book. He didn't feel like reading Maverick right now, and doubted he would be able to sleep anymore that night. A deep sense of wrongness was in the air.
Hadrian couldn't help but wonder whether all the death eaters from earlier had left yet. He didn't want to chance running into them, perhaps he should just call a house elf? It was unlikely that any of the death eaters remained, and if they did is wasn't like they would be up on their level of the manor anyways. The library was right down the hall.
Hadrian was pretty sure the dark lord was gone. He seemed to be able to sense when the man was home, which wasn't very often. However his senses were a little out of whack at that moment. Throwing caution to the wind and going against his every instinct, Hadrian made his way out of his bed chambers. And tiptoed the length of the hall to the library. Having fallen asleep in his robes, the raven was still dressed, therefore had no reason to be so cold.
He finally made his way to the library after what seemed like hours of walking, he opened the doors ready to find himself a book. If he couldn't sleep, he would need to keep his mind busy. Upon entering, however, Hadrian quickly realized he was not alone after all. He came face to face with a very haggard looking Lord Voldemort.
Oh and what a sight it was. The all mighty Lord, always so impeccable, stood before him. His hair was a mess, robes tore, and blood stained the hem. Hadrian had never seen the man so bent out of shape before. There was an unmistakably presence of deep fury surrounding the man, his wand clenched tightly in his right fist. The most absurd thought crossed his mind in that moment. He couldn't help but think, that the dark lord had never looked so beautiful.
Hadrian couldn't help it when his jaw dropped a little in surprise. Curiosity set in, swirling in his brain with questions. What had the dark Lord in such a state? Was everything okay? Before he could articulate a sentence the dark lord moved towards the door. Their shoulders brushed against each other, leaving a deep tingly feeling within the raven. They locked eyes for the broadest moment, and then Voldemort was gone. Leaving Hadrian to drown in his own curiosity.
After all, curiosity killed the cat.
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