July 31st, 1981

At 9:00 P.M., Hadrian "Harry" James Potter didn't know what was going on. Sure, he knew the gist of it. A Dark Lord forced his family into hiding, His parents out with some order of people while his grandparents, in his case supervised, and in his brother's babysat.

Within the next minute, he was quickly ushered into his brother's nursery by Dorea Potter nee Black, his grandmother, whilst under the withering spell-fire being traded by Charlus Potter, his grandfather, and a group of people that apparently ate death.

He didn't see much of the fight, nor did he know much about the fight, but he did know that his grandfather was some mage if he could fully contend with eight adult wizards that were seeking to kill him.

For approximately three minutes, Harry was hunkered in his brother's nursery, standing vigil over the crib attempting to calm the crying Charles "Charlie" Evan Potter, when he heard a resounding explosion, a scream that sounded distinctly like his grandmother's and then followed by another explosion.

It was two minutes later when he didn't hear the sound of spell-fire. Harry had turned to fully face the door when it opened at exactly 9:07 P.M. where a tall man with black locks and red, serpentine eyes revealed himself.

Whereas Charles Potter could only remember a distinct hiss from the infamous night, Hadrian Potter heard a deep chuckle reverberate throughout the room. He remembered it chilling his bones and causing the hairs on his body to stand in alert.

It was at 9:08 P.M. when the red-eyed man lashed out and backhanded the older Potter brother onto the floor with the following motion being the drawing of a stick pointed at baby Charles, a sickly, emerald light at the tip.

Despite all attempts by Albus Dumbledore, a famed leader of the Light, and Charms Master and prodigy that was Lily Potter nee Evans, not even the obtaining of a memory from either of the boys could determine what happened after that point.

The only thing that could be agreed on was that at approximately 9:09 P.M. on Halloween night (or Samhain for those of the more traditional and magical of the populous) of the year 1981 at Godric's Hollow, the Dark Lord was defeated.

What remained of the Dark Lord was a smoking heap of black robes and a splintered wand.

Hadrian Potter suffering from magical exhaustion from the ordeal and Charles Potter knocked unconscious with a distinct, bleeding lightning bolt cut adorning his forehead.

Charlus and Dorea Potter as well as several members of the terrorist group known as the Death Eaters lay dead in and around the supposed safehouse.

It was at 9:13 PM on the same night where Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, proclaimed Charles Potter as the Boy-Who-Lived.

It was at 9:13 PM on the same night where Fate threw a pair of dice and allowed Chance to play.

It was at 9:13 PM on the same night where the future of the magical world would forever be changed.

July 31st, 1985

"Come on!" A man with tousled raven hair and spectacles with brown eyes shouted over the commotion that was the dinner table. "Blow out the candles already!"

"Patience, James!" A woman with wavy and fiery red hair and distinct shining emerald eyes, replied in a scolding voice. The smirk on her lips betrayed her annoyance, though.

A shaggy haired man with a beard to match and grim brown robes and easy-going smile almost fumbled on the camera where he was delegated to take the picture was exclaiming his annoyance loudly however and did so with a grand gesture of the hands he lifted into the air. "Oh come off it, Sirius. It's the kid's birthday!" A pale faced man with deranged robes that looked incredibly worn out, if the various patchwork and griminess it had. The sullen man was smiling, happily though as he watched the two parents fuss over their child.

"Remus is right! You can't rush perfection!" Elder hands clasped on one of Remus' shoulders. The sullen man smiled good-naturedly at the man above him. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled over his half-moon glasses in delight as he examined the three people. The Weasley's were due any minute now as well as the Longbottoms.

From a distant corner though, at the other side of the room, in fact. A pair of calculating emerald eyes analyzed the exchange. Not with happiness nor coldness. Nor any emotion, really. Just a mild aloofness at the event. Harry could not understand the effort they went through in organizing his brother's party.

He meant that in the most respectful way possible, considering they were still technically in hiding. He didn't care that they didn't throw a party for him, the excuse being that it would be drawing to much attention to them should they do so. To him a birthday was just that. A birthday. A commemoration to one's age may have appealed to some people but certainly not to him. Harry just didn't see the justification of counting the years when they would go by regardless if one paid it any attention or not.

Of course, if he voiced that he would probably be forced to have a party by his parents. He just hoped they wouldn't come two days from now, the particular excuse of 'still in hiding' seemed to have run its course.

Granted that was just him. He idly wondered if others thought as he did as he moved his eyes back to the book in his hand.

Dumbledore probably didn't, he was what a hundred plus years of age? Didn't look any closer to keeling over. Harry would be highly surprised if he did have parties for his age. Then again, he was probably breaking modern records for his advanced age so the wizened, if a bit eccentric (in Harry's opinion), old man probably did.

A raspberry blow signaled his brother's attempts at blowing the five candles out and Hadrian had to bite back the disgust before it showed on his face. I guess I'm skipping on dessert for tonight.

Having had enough of the blatant disregard for health, he silently stood while closing his book and made his way to his room. That was before getting almost run over by the Weasley Clan. A young boy of about five shoulder checked him and, as a result the Weasley was sent sprawling across the floor. The red haired boy clearly paid it no mind as he merely shook the daze away and kept going. Two older boys, the twins Fred and George were casually passing him by and by instinct made Hadrian check his pocket for any loss of the galleon given to him by Sirius as a gift.

The mischievous glint in their eyes didn't win them any favors either.

Hadrian quickly went up the stairs before he got stampeded by the rest of the mob.

After closing the door behind him, he set the book down on the small bookcase on the far wall and laid on the bed staring at the ceiling.

A knock was quickly heard at his door and a mumbled "Come in." was uttered by the eight year old boy.

His mother was holding a slice of the infected cake in one hand that was stabbed through with a fork. "Would you like some cake?" She asked.

At the expected blank expression, she nodded and regarded her son for a moment. "Now I know you don't like parties." Or any social gathering really. Lily added mentally. "But you should really come down and socialize."

"They're not here for me." Harry stated simply. It wasn't said with any scorn nor malice at all. Just mere truth.

Those five words did cut Lily deeply though as she set the cake down on the nightstand next to the bed before sitting at the foot of it. No kid should display that much lack of emotion. She remembered the lively four year old that plagued their home before they went into and during the duration of the war.

On how he would be laughing jovially alongside James as he transfigured objects for the amusement of their firstborn or how Harry would stare wide-eyed and full of amazement when she herself would perform her charm work with nary a thought even though they were so simply and basic.

After it though, the whole Voldemort incident that is, Hadrian had changed drastically and as much as Hadrian denied it and how much she and Dumbledore confirmed it, Lily knew her son was hiding something from that night.

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible but something tugged at her naval and her instincts screamed to figure it out. Lily suppressed the urge to question him though. He may have given them permission to check his mind, they acted on it but nothing after that emerald light of the killing curse ever amounted to anything but darkness, he would always shut down and lock himself away in his room where she would find him simply staring at the walls around him.

She rested a hand on his leg for a moment before standing.

Hadrian watched her leave and take the infected cake with her.

September 2nd, 1988

Harry stared into the entrance of the shop of the world-renowned Ollivander's shop with James and Lily at his side. The streets of Diagon Alley seemed desolate. Harry figured it was because the craze of newly minted eleven years olds' being shipped off to Hogwarts had died down significantly.

Though technically, the eldest Potter son was eleven. His birthday being the day after enrollment seemed to bother his parents the most. They had attempted to get him enrolled for this year and granted, he would've wanted nothing more for his birthday.

James and Lily were quite irate when the Headmaster, or rather the Board of Governors, had dissuaded such a notion that he be enrolled.

Harry was still confused on who to blame there. James and Lily had specifically said it was the Board of Governors on plenty of occasions. Though they ranted as well that it was specifically Dumbledore who had rejected the request.

Though Hadrian didn't mind. Of course, he was a little put out by having to wait a whole year just because his birthday was a day after the fact of departure. He figured he would just get a headstart on all of this years materials a year early. A little solitary, if supervised, study always soothed his mind and negated or rather outweighed any forced socialization.

Back to the matter at hand, however, no one seemed eager to step foot inside the renowned wand maker's shop even though that was basically the reason for this whole trip.

"Well, uh Harry." James started though none still seemed to have gathered the courage to go in the shop. "I know we discussed this. At length even. But are you sure you want to go in there alone?"

There was a hesitant nod from the new eleven year old.

"Are sure?" Lily persisted. "I mean Ollivander can be a bit overbearing at times."

Harry took a single step forward and then another and another until he had opened the threshold to the wandmaker's shop.

"Damn your stupid pureblood traditions." Lily spat scornfully yet it held a tint of playfulness. She had always thought that there was too much tradition regarding the Old Ways as Charlus, her father-in-law, had often referred to it as though she had since grown accustomed to it. However, this particular tradition was what set her on edge or rather seemed stupid in her honest opinion.

James shrugged at her remark with a smirk on his lips. "It's always been like this. A wand is a direct reflection of the person's aptitudes, strengths and weaknesses." It sounded like the old prankster was reciting a lecture verbatim. "It's a private thing. I mean you still don't know what the core of my wand is and I don't even know what the wood of your wand is."

She acquiesced. When Harry asked and James subsequently informed her it was almost taboo for others to know the makings of another's wand, she had looked over a book of wand lore; the tradition in particular. She quickly realized that she didn't know all that much about any other people's wands if she knew anything at all and that it was an extremely personal matter.

Only on few occasions does the nature of one's wand get apparently revealed for others in magical society.

In an official capacity by an Unspeakable if someone was on trial or imprisoned or if the person had passed on where the make up of their wand would be transcribed as if it were some sort of writ or holy passage.

There was one other time where it was during some sort of ancient tournament but it had since been discontinued for reasons she didn't bother learning or researching about but she had briefly skimmed over it. Something about a weighing ceremony with the other competitors to level the playing field so to speak if she remembered correctly.

She was shaken from her thoughts when Ollivander opened the door and the two adults were able to catch a glimpse of young Hadrian being visibly uncomfortable with all the poking and prodding from a levitating meter stick and a tape measure. Lily and James quickly thought the worse though they both hid their concern rather well. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, not at all! Lord and Lady Potter!" Both the adults internally cringed at the title. Even after three years they had yet to still get used to the titles. Though Ollivander who didn't notice and whose thoughtful face quickly morphed into one of excitement. "I believe me and your eldest may have quite the day ahead of us. I came out here to inform you that it may be a little bit before the young Mr. Potter is fitted with the wand that chooses him."

James thoughts morphed into ones of even more perturbed concern as did Lily. Though the former hot-headed Gryffindor was the first one to voice them. "Are we talking about a week? A month? A year?"

The aged and ancient wandmaker chuckled and shook his head. "No, no Lord Potter. I do not believe so long." His eyes flicked upwards and squinted at the afternoon sun and bobbed his head from side to side as he contemplated a time frame. "An hour, maybe two at the most."

There was a visible deflation of stress from the couple as the sighed in relief. They shared a look. "Maybe we can get some shopping done? I don't think Harry would mind us going." James tentatively suggested while glancing at his wife who looked conflicted at whether they should stay and support their eldest son or run a few errands.

Eventually, she nodded at James request and they left together and had all but forgotten Ollivander's presence who was watching the two like a hawk would scrutinize its prey until they turned the corner and out of his sight.

The ancient wandmaker turned on his heel and faced his shop and in one fluid motion opened the door flipped the Open Sign to Closed and shut the door.

But not without first peeking through the beige blinder as if wary of any would be spies.

September 1st, 1989

"Hadrian Potter!" The weathered Scottish voice announced from the raised dais at the front of the famed great hall of Hogwarts. The hall went silent as the grave as, Hadrian noted, watched him go and sit on the wooden stool.

Harry had always wondered about the ancient Sorting Hat. It didn't make sense that it would divide children into houses based on attributes or traits a person had. What if they developed out of them during their time here at Hogwarts?

Maybe the Sorting Hat had some sort of scrying abilities or rather enchantments?

It would make sense. Perhaps it wasn't selecting houses based on traits rather it selecting based on where to cultivate strength? Or maybe it selected it based on your weakness to cultivate your lackluster attributes? A combination of the two?

He mentally shrugged, he probably wouldn't ever know, but he didn't particularly care either.

Harry thought the Sorting Ceremony to be a rather dull, unneeded and outdated affair. It would be much more simple to separate just by year and by male and female. His own methodology seemed much more efficient at the very least. Still though his attention turned towards the wooden pedestal and the tattered and worn leather hat that sat upon it.

He felt the ancient hide hat weigh down his head. "Ah, A Potter. Haven't had one of you in a while." The hat's voice, in his head that is, sounded raspy and ancient but held a bit of snark in it as well.

"Well shall we?" Harry felt the hat run through his mind and memory. "Hufflepuff is definitely out." If he didn't know better he could've sworn that he heard a distinct tone of disappointment. "Ah yes, all you Potters are anything but Hufflepuff."

That explained the disappointment.

"Hmm. Most curious." The hat remarked. "Gryffindor is out. I wouldn't call it courage. More like…" There was a distinct pause. "Desperation. Yes, desperation is the most apt term. So Ravenclaw or Slytherin. That is the dilemma. You don't lack intelligence, ambition nor cunning." Hadrian could feel a smirk from the malformed hat. "And that is where the two houses differ. Cunning." It seemed the hat had made a decision. Though for some reason it didn't say Slytherin.

"Even with all my enchantments, Mr. Potter, I cannot deduce something. It as if it is there but it is not. I would compare it to a mirror. A direct reflection for young aspirants. Yet there seems to be a shadow or spectre…something lingering in you that stay at the edges of my senses. It doesn't seem malignant nor benevolent seemingly…neutral. Most interesting. Hmm. I believe you and I will have to talk again in the future." The hat spoke before it announced in an ancient booming voice his house for the next seven years.

"Slytherin!"

Silence greeted him as he stood up other than polite applause and congratulations from his new housemates. As soon as he sat down, however, the mumblings began in earnest. He was, after all, the last one to be sorted.

Harry noted that the other snakes did not partake in the whisperings. Instead they either ate in silence or the only six first-years sorted into the house conversed amongst themselves or rather spoke quietly to each other while Hadrian ignored them in favor of eating his fill. He would later learn their names to be Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole both brutish but also intelligent. Adrian Pucey who seemed to be a normal and decent enough friend to have. While the two others would be girls by the names of Amelia Durand, a half-blood who would later proven to be a good friend, soft-spoken just like him and just as intelligent and Daphne Greengrass with an icy and aloof persona that seemed to easily mesh in with his own sociopathic tendencies.

After dinner Hadrian and the other five were quickly escorted to the Slytherin common room, in the dungeons.

Snape wasn't kidding when he shared that fact to Harry on the rare occasion he did visit the Potter household, usually at the insistence of both Dumbledore and Lily. Even then the reclusive man hung onto the walls like a bat and left the moment he was given an opportunity to do so.

"Slytherin. Your home for the next years of your life." Snape announced. The two prefects flanking him on either side both the girl and boy seemed to look like they would like to be anywhere but there. "Whatever happens within these walls, stays within these walls. Whatever squabbles or differences you have with each other, you settle them here. Outside of these walls, we are united, we stand together."

Adrian, Amelia and Daphne nodded their acknowledgement at that while Lucian and Peregrine both looked at each and shrugging. Hadrian was the only one to seemed to be indifferent at the declaration if the lack of any reaction was to go by. Judging by what the others were discussing over their dinner, he was older than all of them by a solid year and it sort of showed when with their wide-eyed expressions of magic. Even the aloof Greengrass heiress, although he attributed it to the fact that an eleven year old would have a hard time concealing any emotion, was impressed by the magic displayed thus far.

"The girls dorms are on the left while the boys are on the right. They are both spelled to never allow one of the opposite gender to either side. So do not try as the consequences from both myself and the Headmaster will be dire." That went without saying and the threats left hanging left them all in silence.

"Since you are in Slytherin, you represent the house as a whole. There will be zero tolerance in laziness and poor marks. There will be zero tolerance towards malicious or degrading behavior. Do I make myself clear?" They all nodded their heads fervently at that given the seriousness in his words. Even Hadrian gave a minute nod to the man even though he felt it unneeded. Who in their right minds would want poor marks?

"You will receive your timetables at the Great Hall tomorrow at breakfast. That is all from me. Good night." And with a billowing and dramatic sweep of his robes, he left without another word. The prefect took his place.

"You will all have your own rooms. It will be up to you to bring it up to your preference. Remember, in Slytherin everything costs. Should you want help with something, the older years are more than willing to help. For a price, that is. Be it money or favors. Note that Professor Snape's and school rules still stands."

It went without saying that the prefects would escort them to breakfast the next morning. At that they were all escorted to their own rooms, where Hadrian wasted no time in falling asleep.

Hadrian's first three years of Hogwarts passed by in a relative breeze.

He didn't dally nor laze about and immersed himself in his assigned studies as well as personal ones. Often times, he would lose track of time during these sessions and would be reminded by Isabelle or Daphne not to forget meals. Though Harry suspected it was at the insistence of Snape that they be the ones to tell him.

He figured they could care less if he did eat or not. It had only happened a couple of times to be fair and he had readily discarded that habit of forgetting to eat and mentally slapped himself the last time it happened. How did one even forget to eat anyways?

Holidays to him they meant nothing. Merely another day in the long year. The only holiday, if he could even call it that, was Halloween or rather Samhain for the more traditional among the populace, rather than participate in the festivities in the Great Hall, he would rather wander the halls. It didn't sit right with him celebrating the occasion when the only significance it had to him was the death of his grandparents, and he only had fond memories of them.

The apparent desertion of Hogwarts at Christmas allowed Hadrian to explore and further drown himself in his studies. Like most years during the winter time and his birthday, he received books. Sirius bestowed upon him multiple volumes from the Black personal library that offered a fountain of knowledge in battle magic, something that, in all honesty, he could care less for but the knowledge offered within gave an insight on the lengths a wizard could and would go to, to see his or her opponent dead.

Plus it didn't hurt to add more and more spells to his repertoire. He had already spotted some rather deadly and destructive elemental spells and took to trying to master them as soon as possible.

His mother had given him one of her journals of potions in his first year that had been a literal godsend. While not terrible at the subject, he did struggle with the concept of following laid out rules where it was imperative to be on the line and not even a step over nor under could be taken, otherwise a volatile mixture would spell disaster. The journal taught him basics and other shortcuts that could be taken to achieve a desired affect which greatly appealed to his creative and cunning mind. Hadrian figured his letter to her saying that he struggled in Potions had some merit after all.

The next two years he received a Charms journal from her and given that she was currently in the forefront of said field right behind or maybe even surpassing Professor Flitwick, he soaked up the spells and notes as if it was water and him a man stranded in the desert.

James gave him flying lessons for his birthdays. He didn't necessarily like the fact that his lessons always seemed to assume that he would be playing Quidditch though he humored the man enough to try out and was apparently skilled enough to get a Chaser position. James always looked pale when he received news from the grapevine whenever Slytherin beat Gryffindor in the most inane way. Outscoring a caught snitch. It wasn't a love of quidditch rather a love of flying. The exhileration from being so high up and moving fast enough that everything but a focal point seemed like a blur was an awesome feeling that he never tired of. He couldn't care less for the sport, it merely offered the opportunity to fly without repercussion.

Remus, really the only other person that got him gifts and always sent a book on Runes. The subject he absolutely loved and was inherently good at. He always soaked up whatever information was inside and had immediately asked if he could sit in on Professor Babbling's classes when he could. The subject seemed the most flexible in terms of usage and his personal studies always seemed to shift in that direction.

Upon returning home, James, Lily and Charles would pick him up. It was a rather simple affair, nothing grandiose nor intruding. Likely, due to the fact that they were trying to remain as anonymous as possible. Charles, being the Boy-Who-Lived, drew a lot of publicity whenever the family was out and about in the Wizarding World.

There was a sort of animosity though between him and his father's more zealous friends like the Weasleys or the Abbots or even sometimes the Longbottoms whenever they came over. They just couldn't get past that he was in the House of Salazar Slytherin.

It was funny, to Harry at least, when he was told their views on Slytherin and, almost always, the answer would stray to future Dark Lords or Ladies. They were right for the most part. You couldn't be brave and stupidly courageous to be a Dark Lord, no one has ever heard of those. You couldn't be humble and loyal to be a Dark Lord or otherwise be taken advantage of. One had to have an ambition that eclipsed all others. Be studious to foster that ambition to make it a reality, be cunning, charismatic and capable of crossing lines should the need the arise.

That was what it took to be a Dark Lord. And all these people of modern times have perverted the title to something evil and taboo. Voldemort and Grindelwald being the most damaging. Those two were just plain arseholes.

Hadrian fully believed that had Merlin existed in this time, he would be viewed as the epitome of what a Dark Lord was. No one talked about the lengths at which the greatest wizard of all time used to hide wizarding and magical kind from the mundanes. No one talked about the rituals and sacrifices, he made to ensure their very safety.

His personal mantra paralleled the modern idea of classifying magic and his thoughts often reflected it.

In Hadrian's mind, no magic should've had a label like those of today. There is no Good nor Evil. No Light nor Dark. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it.