Disclaimer:I do not own Harry Potter, sorry guys !
CasketFan5: Hadrian left you think ? Well, maybe he isn't as gone as you would think. But I won't say anything, you have everything in this chapter. Thanks as always for reviewing, take care and have a good day : Well, I'm really glad you enjoyed the story. Here's more ! Take care, and have a good day : I'm glad you enjoyed the story ! Here's more ! Take care, and have a good day
AnimeWorld2.0: Hey ! There's absolutely no problem for me ! As long as you credit me in the description, I'll gladly accept. I'll send you a private message as soon as I can to give a better answer. Thank you for reading the story, take care !
07/02/1995, 17H35, Potter Manor, England:
Sirius and Harry sped through the Manor, darting from staircases to corridors, fervently searching each room along the way. They were certain he was here. But where exactly was he hiding?
"Sirius! Where are Daphne and the Greengrasses?" Harry suddenly asked, his accumulated fatigue from the intense training session, followed by the sprint, catching up to him.
The canine animagus turned in his direction, immediately understanding the meaning behind his godson's question. "You don't think that…" he trailed off, his eyes widening. Harry nodded, having caught his breath. He straightened up.
"If they haven't moved, they should be… in Hadrian's office." Sirius whispered the last part of his conjecture, as if struck by a revelation.
"He's there! I'm sure of it!" Harry shouted, launching himself energetically toward the mentioned room. Sirius followed close behind, equally determined to put an end to the search and understand what was happening.
They rushed towards the office as fast as they could, taking the stairs two at a time and leaving a trail of fallen portraits in their wake. Thanks to their speed, they arrived in front of the door in under a minute.
"Ready?" asked Harry. Sirius nodded, drew his wand, and gave Harry a knowing look. Harry then abruptly opened the door.
Once inside, Harry guided his magic towards his eyes, gathering as much information as possible. He immediately spotted Daphne, quickly assessing her health with a glance. Next, he saw Ophelia and Fortuna, their wands aimed at a cloaked stranger in a long black cape. Astoria hid behind the two but didn't appear frightened. From Harry's point of view, she seemed to recognize the newcomer in the room. Harry himself had a suspicion about the mysterious wizard's identity.
The concealed figure sat calmly at Hadrian's desk, exuding no hostility, simply waiting for someone or something.
"Who are you?" Ophelia asked in a firm voice, her wand pointing at the man, just as Harry intervened. With an authoritative gesture, he grabbed her wrist and signalled for her to lower her wand. He repeated this with the other concerned witches.
The young Gryffindor then turned toward the desk and addressed the masked man: "Uncle Hadrian? That was you earlier, wasn't it?" he asked, alluding to their recent encounter.
"You've improved greatly, Harry. I'm proud of you," replied a deep, familiar voice. Harry could detect not only a hint of fatherly pride but also a melancholy, resonant with the regrets they had spoken of during their duel.
Without hesitation, the boy moved around the desk and hugged his uncle. The wizard rose and held him with unexpected strength, stumbling slightly under the weight of the embrace. His hood slipped off, revealing a face marked by trials.
"It's really you…" murmured Fortuna, approaching as well. Still moved, Harry remained nestled against his uncle for a moment before stepping back. "Uncle Hadrian… stop !"
"You've grown… even more than before!" Hadrian laughed, his gaze brimming with sincere affection. Harry laughed, flattered by the compliment. "And why should I stop?" he replied playfully.
A heavy silence filled the room, laden with contradictory emotions. Hadrian knew the reason. His abrupt departure had left a deep wound in everyone's heart, and his unexpected return could only raise questions. He was almost surprised he hadn't already been hit by a barrage of spells.
For her part, Fortuna didn't quite recognize the man she had fallen in love with. He was the same, yet different. His once-bright eyes now had a greyish tint, and dark circles hollowed his cheeks, reflecting profound fatigue.
As he removed his robe, he revealed scattered scars on the visible parts of his body. The most striking were a long scar on his cheek and an amputated leg. There was no doubt: he had indeed survived the battle but at an immense cost.
His mobility was significantly impaired. He limped and needed support to stand, as his instability during Harry's embrace had shown. When fighting, he would probably be able to move as fast as before. But if his leg was to be hit, then…
That's when that thought came that Fortuna grasped the extent of his injuries, both physical and psychological. Hadrian was indeed alive, but a part of him had truly died that night.
'And despite it all, he managed to make Voldemort flee… What terrifying strength,' she sighed, her awe tinged with horror.
Suddenly, a wave of suspicion struck her. With a quick movement, she drew her wand, pulled Harry back, and positioned herself protectively in front of Hadrian, vigilant. As she had learned in the field, she had to be ready for anything.
"In what arena did we fight the day we met?" she asked firmly, her wand sparking with tension.
Hadrian tilted his head, more intrigued than intimidated. "Arena number three. Sirius was fighting in number two against two young wizards at the time," he replied without hesitation.
Satisfied with his answer, Fortuna lowered her guard. But just as Hadrian began to inquire about her sudden burst of suspicion, she slapped him with startling speed.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, I guess that's our cue to leave," said Sirius with a smirk, followed closely by Harry and the Greengrass twins. Harry took the opportunity to try sparking a conversation with Daphne, who answered with an icy stare.
Hadrian, still slightly stunned from the blow, couldn't help but strain to hear the last exchange between Daphne and his nephew.
"Daphne… Maybe we could…" began Harry, only to be cut off by Daphne. "Not now. Soon. Now, step back, or I'll slap you too."
The time traveller, despite the pain, didn't flinch. He knew he deserved that, and perhaps worse. With a firm motion, he locked and soundproofed the room before turning back to Fortuna, his gaze lowered.
"Do you feel better?" he asked softly, his voice laced with regret. He knew his actions would have devastating consequences, but he couldn't help wondering what would have happened if he'd chosen differently. Would they all have perished? Or would they have found another path? He didn't know.
Tears streaked her cheeks. She hit him again, this time on the shoulder, though her blow lacked force. "More?" he asked, feigning indignation. He didn't want her to think he wasn't taking his actions seriously. But he hoped that this touch of humour might lighten the tense atmosphere.
"For nearly a whole year, I searched for you," she said, turning away from Hadrian to gaze at the library shelves. "When I heard about your 'death' back then, I thought my world had collapsed. I wasn't alone… I had a colleague, a friend, a man to love. And then, suddenly, you were gone. Only remains, a piece of leg, and more blood than could have been in your body. That's all I found!"
She turned to him, her gaze dark with anger. "And do you know what the worst part is? It's that you know what it feels like! You know that pain! You, too, lost someone you loved. Yet, you left without a trace. No message, no sign… nothing!"
Hadrian lowered his head, her words piercing him deeper than he cared to admit. He knew he had acted selfishly, subordinating everything to his plans. "Fortuna, listen…"
"No, I won't listen! Do you know how worried I was? I've lost everything in my life, Hadrian! I have nothing left! And then you just show up like this, and…"
But she couldn't finish. Her voice trembled too much, and she lost track of what she wanted to say. She had never been one for long speeches. But this time, she felt the need.
He slowly approached, but before he could touch her, she resumed: "I'm angry… I'm worried… But mostly, I'm scared, Hadrian."
He had known Fortuna Moon for a long time. He had seen her face Dark Lords, creatures of darkness whose mere names chilled entire villages. And yet, it was the first time he had seen her reveal her vulnerability so openly.
He stood before her, searching for the right words. Closing his eyes, he gently placed his hand on her face, wiping away her tears. He stroked her silky hair, tucking it behind her ear.
"I'm sorry, Fortuna. In the past, I lost… everyone I loved. Just as you have, based on what you said earlier. Today, I have you all by my side… And I can't bear the thought of losing you. So, when Voldemort began to regain ground, gathering his followers, I decided to act. I hadn't expected the attack that day, but I seized the chance to do what had to be done."
His voice was gentle, tinged with a vulnerability she had never heard in him before. It was no longer the confident, powerful voice she knew, but rather a mix of exhaustion and tenderness.
She loved this new side of him.
"From what you've said, I suppose you saw what happened?" he asked, his hand still in her hair.
She nodded, her voice still trembling. "Alexander gave Harry memory vials on the night of the cemetery attack. We know everything that happened from his side."
Hadrian nodded. "I suppose he should be back as well. His work as a spy is finished anyway. Voldemort knows he didn't kill me," he explained, and she nodded in understanding. Alexander's work had been as dangerous, if not more so, than Hadrian's. After all, he was far from possessing the brute strength of the time traveller.
They looked at each other in silence, their gazes meeting and drifting away. A certain awkwardness had settled, but neither seemed eager to break the moment.
Finally, Fortuna spoke. "Who were those people I fought that day?" He immediately understood what she was referring to.
The time traveller gave a bitter smile. "A small group I gathered to help me on my mission. They learn quickly and progress at an impressive rate."
Not giving her a chance to ask more questions, he continued, "I'm surprised you found me. You've gotten significantly better, both in tracking and in combat. You're a remarkable witch, Fortuna Moon."
He saw her shiver. Did a simple compliment from him affect her so much? Or was she cold?
"You know, don't you?" she murmured, her voice trembling. "You knew even back then."
Hadrian immediately understood. She was referring to her feelings.
Did he know? Objectively, yes. But after all he had endured, he couldn't accept his own feelings, let alone open his heart. He deliberately kept his distance from everyone, haunted by the fear of losing those he loved again.
"You loved me," he confirmed in a deep voice. The words struck her like a dagger to the heart.
She lowered her head, leaning against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling his own emotions surge.
"I still love you," she murmured, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
Hadrian remained silent, soothing his emotions with magic. "I've never felt this way before. I can't even find the words to fully express what I feel," she confessed.
"I'm so sorry for all the pain I caused you," he said, stepping back slightly to look her in the eyes.
His eyes, previously dulled by a greyish sheen, suddenly brightened. He winced at the pain it caused. He was used to it, but it didn't make the pain itself any less.
"I love you too, Fortuna. The thought of losing you terrifies me. I've already lost my family once. I couldn't bear it a second time," he admitted, his voice breaking with emotion.
"For an entire year, I tracked dark wizards across the globe. Sects, dark groups with grand ambitions, individuals thirsty for power willing to destroy everything in their path… I've seen the worst of humanity."
He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned towards her. "There was corruption everywhere. In the Ministry, at Hogwarts, in England, abroad… I found it everywhere. Journalists, teachers, nobles, desperate homeless… The only thing they had in common was that I was the one who put an end to them."
He looked at his hands, trembling. "Maybe it will bring some peace in the future. But how many lives have I taken?" he sighed, stepping back and collapsing into a chair.
"Sometimes, they died peacefully. Sometimes… less so."
"Today, the world is safer. But I am certainly not," he admitted, his eyes filled with regret. "Voldemort himself, this scourge of our time, has suffered a severe blow, and maybe he can be defeated soon."
"And yet, I can't feel joy," he added, his voice marked by emotion. What he had endured in recent years would have been enough to break any man. His resilience was already far beyond the norm.
He then raised his head toward Fortuna, the fatigue more visible on his face than ever. "So, even though I love you… how could I offer you what you seek when death itself follows my every step?"
Fortuna looked at him with sadness. She hadn't even seen an eighth of the horrors in Hadrian's life. Nonetheless, that had been enough for a lifetime. She couldn't claim to understand even ten percent of what he'd endured, but she didn't care.
Alexander's advice came back to her mind. Without giving herself time to think, she reached his chair, forced him to stand, and pressed her lips to his in a sudden, intense kiss. The kiss was short, but powerful, conveying all the feelings they had sealed in their hearts.
"I don't care about the risks I face with you. I can fight, and I have complete faith in your abilities," she said after pulling away. "I don't care if I don't live the life of a typical noble wife. That doesn't interest me. What truly matters to me… is you."
Hadrian remained frozen, unable to reply. He trusted Fortuna. She was magically stronger than Ginny had ever been in his time, and if they managed to defeat Voldemort, they could live in a world peaceful enough to be happy.
"I'm tired, Fortuna. Once this is all over…" he began, hoping she would understand his implication.
"You want to stop fighting, don't you?" she continued. "Once Voldemort, his followers, and anyone who could take his place are gone, you'd like to retire, am I right?"
He nodded. "I've been fighting for so long…" he sighed, glancing up at the wooden ceiling. "The Potters have enough funds to live a thousand lives without working. What's more… I own that little chalet in the mountains in France…"
She scrutinised him with curiosity. "You'd want to settle there after the war?" she asked, gently caressing his arm.
"I'm just saying we could take a long vacation there, together. Besides, I know the head of the professional duelling league. He'll be our neighbour. You could sign up, if you want," he offered.
She nodded, liking the idea a lot.
"And you, Hadrian?" she asked.
The bounty hunter remained silent, appearing lost in thought. Fortuna waited patiently as his eyes slowly drifted into the void, his face devoid of any expression.
"I don't know," he finally croaked. "But I think some rest wouldn't hurt."
Fortuna nodded and leaned closer to the man she loved. "Then let's do that," she said with conviction.
Feeling her breath on his face, Hadrian couldn't resist kissing her once more. Their lips met with passion as the English Lord slowly trailed kisses down her neck.
They stopped thinking, letting instinct take over.
"Fortuna… You—," he began before she cut him off abruptly. "I waited a year. I won't waste another second."
She unbuttoned his shirt, resuming where they had left off. Slowly, button by button, she undressed him. New scars appeared in her field of vision, and she traced them with her fingers.
"Do they still hurt?" she asked. Hadrian remained silent for a moment, then lifted her, seating her in front of him on the desk. "The memory does, when I think about it," he admitted. "But with you… I can't think of anything else."
Fortuna Moon and Hadrian Potter were two very different people. Yet, for the first time since his wife's death, the time traveller felt his heart opening again. For her part, the young woman felt alive once more, losing herself in the happiness and pleasure her heart's chosen could offer.
07/15/1995, 23H56, Potter Manor, England:
The last two weeks had been pure torment.
Harry had no doubt about that. He had tried, as best as he could, to repair the damage done to his relationship with Daphne, but the young Slytherin remained distant. Their letters, though regular, were tinged with a coldness that bewildered him.
He had heard about Alexander Greengrass's return to the family manor, news that seemed to comfort her, though not enough for her to agree to see him or spend time together.
He understood, of course. She had believed her father dead for an entire year and had not seen her sister since their encounter with the Basilisk. She needed time to recharge with her family.
As for him, he had thrown himself into the bustling life at Potter Manor. The last fifteen days had been filled with reunions and celebrations around Hadrian's return. Sirius had tried to update him on the latest Wizengamot debates. At least, that was the original plan. But given the blush on his godfather's face, Harry suspected the two adults had ended up on entirely different topics.
As for Fortuna… his uncle and the bounty hunter had finally gotten together. Harry was genuinely happy for them. Still, he could have done without the knowing glances they exchanged mid-conversation.
He had, in turn, shared his year at Hogwarts with Hadrian, recounting the trials of the Triwizard Tournament, and eventually confessing his retaliation against Malfoy. He expected a stern scolding, but his uncle surprised him. Instead of reproaching him, Hadrian congratulated him.
"You thought a lot about what you did, Harry. You managed to question your actions and recognize your mistakes. That's all I ask. I'm proud of you."
Those words lifted a weight Harry hadn't known he was carrying. From then on, he focused on his new magic, determined to master it before it overwhelmed him. And then there was Daphne. He ardently wanted to reconnect with her, but his efforts remained fruitless.
A few days after his return, his uncle introduced him to his new team—a formidable group of wizards and witches with diverse skills, united by a single goal: to eradicate dark organisations threatening the magical community. Harry was impressed by their professionalism and dedication. He watched them in action several times, carrying out missions with chilling efficiency.
His own training took on a new dimension. The time traveller subjected him to rigorous physical tests before putting him through increasingly complex combat simulations. Harry learned to master new spells, move with surprising agility, and anticipate his opponent's attacks. He came to understand that magic was more than a mere tool; it was an extension of himself, a force he had to learn to channel.
Despite the progress he had made, Harry still felt a sense of incompleteness. He was far from being able to defeat Voldemort, and the shadows of his past defeat continued to haunt him. He knew he needed to move forward, but after everything he had been through, that loss weighed heavily.
In their duels, his uncle pushed him to his limits, testing whether he would once again succumb to the anger and destructive impulses that the artefacts awakened in him. To Harry's satisfaction, he resisted the temptation, mastering his emotions with unexpected firmness.
Hadrian pressed him for details about how he acquired the ring and the wand, knowing who their previous owner had been. Harry opened up, receiving answers to his own questions in return.
The bounty hunter had, in fact, been the one to send the mysterious ring to the headmaster. After securing the cursed item, he had entrusted it to Dumbledore, believing the headmaster wise enough to keep it safe until Harry was ready to bear its power. However, whether the old man had perceived a strength in Harry that his uncle had missed, or had been unable to resist the allure of the artefacts, he had passed them on to the young wizard.
This decision had sparked Hadrian's intense anger; he blamed Dumbledore for acting rashly without considering the consequences. The artefacts, though granting immense power, inevitably corrupted their bearer's soul. And if Harry couldn't control the darkness growing within him, the consequences would be disastrous.
Harry himself was aware of the danger looming over him. He had committed unpardonable acts, had pushed his girlfriend away violently, and had nearly killed his own uncle. He absolutely had to learn to master the dark force eating away at him.
Fortunately, Hadrian had found a way to release him from its grip. However, the process was complex and fraught with risks. And he did not want to strip Harry of this advantage, convinced that the young wizard would need it to confront the Dark Lord.
Hadrian would have preferred to finish Voldemort off that night at the cemetery. But the Dark Lord, having reconstituted part of his power thanks to the Horcruxes, was more powerful and cunning than ever. His only weakness lay in Nagini, his loyal snake.
"We have one year," his uncle had declared resolutely. "I won't let you fall to the darkness. If we haven't managed to defeat him by then, we'll find another way."
Harry doubted he could triumph over Voldemort at his age, but he knew he could not back down. He would fight to the end, to protect those he loved. Perhaps one day, he could finally lead a normal life, free from the dark secrets of the magical world.
'I will do it,' he told himself firmly. The stakes were too high. He couldn't fail. 'I will win.'
And, comforted by this promise, he drifted off to sleep, exhausted by the emotions and trials he had endured in recent months.
??/??/????, ??H??, ?????, Limbo:
Harry awoke in an infinite, white void. No sound, no breath, only an eerie sensation of floating, like a dead leaf carried by the wind. He knew where he was.
"I'm in limbo," he deduced. Did that mean he was dead? Had he been killed in his sleep? No, he didn't believe that for a second. The Manor's security was far too tight for that, especially since his uncle's return to the family home.
"So… we finally meet, Harry Potter," murmured an unfamiliar voice behind him.
Harry spun around and saw an immense, skeletal figure hovering in mid-air. A long, black cloak enveloped it. Yet no fabric could disguise the magical power radiating from this being. Harry immediately understood who was before him, having experienced this sensation before.
"You're Death, aren't you?" he stammered, unable to hide the fear he felt facing the embodiment of life's opposite.
"Indeed, my boy. It's clear the artefacts didn't choose you by accident, from what I can see."
The voice that resonated made no sense to Harry's human mind. He couldn't understand the language spoken, the sounds emanating from Death seeming incomprehensible. Yet, for some reason beyond his grasp, he absorbed everything this supernatural being communicated.
Seeing the young boy's shock, Death transformed. The skeletal figure vanished, morphing into a flawless woman.
Her eyes were a deep, endless black, and her hair, silky and dark as the night, flowed over her shoulders. She wore a light dress that hinted at graceful curves beneath.
"I see. I take it you don't have a set form. Any reason for choosing this one in particular?" Harry asked as nonchalantly as possible.
Any attempt at seduction would be useless on him. His love for Daphne far surpassed any physical attraction he might feel for another woman.
"It's easier to talk when we're the same size," she replied. "Besides, mortals have an affinity for beauty, don't they? This should make our conversation easier."
Harry knew he couldn't afford to reveal any weakness. He had no cards to play, no understanding of why he was in this isolated place, and he was facing Death incarnate. He couldn't be at a greater disadvantage.
Doing his best to calm his frantically beating heart, he took a deep breath and focused his occlumency to the utmost.
"Can I help you?" he asked in a steady voice.
"Indeed, you will be of use to me. But that will come in time. I was simply… curious to meet my 'master,' that's all."
Harry shook his head. "I am master of nothing. A mortal, master of Death? I don't believe it," he declared firmly.
The woman nodded, a sly smile spreading across her face. "They really sent me an intelligent one this time."
From this statement, Harry realised that the artefacts must have some form of awareness. He hypothesised that they sought out wizards who possessed the qualities to wield them and subtly guided them.
Finally, Death moved closer, brushing up against him like a cat. "As I said, I will need your help in the future," she resumed. "Some souls I should have collected never reached me. And conversely, some who had time left came to me too early."
She placed her hand on his chest, bringing her face close to his. "When the time comes… you'll lend me your help, won't you? In exchange, you'll have my strength to face all your enemies."
Harry didn't understand the supernatural being's implications but knew he would need her strength to confront Voldemort. Still, he hesitated, unwilling to make a deal that could endanger himself or those close to him.
Suddenly, as he prepared to voice his dilemma, he felt a tear rip through the void. His head began to burn intensely, forcing him to his knees. Meanwhile, the incarnation of Death began to radiate a divine aura, transcending all logic. From his position on the ground, Harry saw his uncle, Hadrian Potter, break into this interdimensional space. His uncle rushed to him, ignoring the woman standing at his side.
"Harry! Are you okay? For Merlin's sake, I was worried sick," exclaimed the older man.
"How…?" Harry gasped, but Hadrian didn't hear him.
"Your heart stopped, and your magic went out of control. I had an idea of what might be happening, but being summoned to limbo…" Hadrian muttered as he helped his nephew to his feet.
Once he was sure of Harry's safety, his uncle turned to the woman, whose black eyes were narrowed in anger.
Hadrian compressed his own magical core, managing to stand his ground for a few seconds against the immortal being.
"Time? I see. You should be dead, I assume you're aware of that," she said coldly.
Harry didn't understand what the woman was referring to, but his uncle clearly did.
"Maybe. Everyone dies someday," replied the former soldier. The silent duel between the two ended then, Hadrian forced to relent as his core reached its limit, and the woman because she couldn't kill him within the confines of limbo.
"I want the souls of those who were supposed to die. Destiny must not be altered. Especially not by a mortal."
'Those who were supposed to die?' thought Harry. He lost track of the conversation as the pain in his head kept him from focusing.
"I won't let you do that," growled Hadrian, his eyes flaring with anger.
"You think you can stop me?" she scoffed, finding the idea that a mere human could oppose her laughable.
"Here? No. But on Earth, you can't act as freely as you'd like. Otherwise, you'd have already done it. You must be limited by laws there."
Hadrian had deduced this the moment he committed his first kill upon his return. He had altered the course of time without consequences. Nothing had stopped him.
That meant Death, however powerful, was restricted in the mortal world. And he could work with that.
"Limits or not, a mere human can't stand against me!"
Hadrian smiled, satisfied his hypothesis was correct. 'So there are limits, then,' he thought.
He turned to Harry and placed his hand on his forehead. "Let's get out of here," he decreed, closing his eyes and forcing open another portal out of limbo.
"I'm not finished with you!"
"We're not truly in limbo, we're in his mind. So, it's just a matter of controlling legilimency to get us out of here!" retorted Hadrian, wasting no more time and leaving the cursed space with his nephew.
The last sound Harry heard was an inhuman scream as he abruptly woke up in his bed.
He was drenched in sweat and felt more exhausted than before he had fallen asleep.
"Go back to sleep, everything's fine," said a voice to his left. He turned sharply, expecting to see Death again somehow. But instead, he saw his uncle. He looked drained, his eyes having once more lost their light. At the same time, the older man was trembling.
"So it wasn't a dream…" the young Gryffindor said, worried.
His uncle looked at him, then placed a hand on his head. "It was more of a nightmare, I'd say. Now get some rest."
'He stood up to Death itself. That's incredible…' Harry marvelled internally, still shocked at the risk the bounty hunter had taken. His uncle had infiltrated limbo itself, facing Death to bring him back to safety. He couldn't imagine a better guardian. 'But it wasn't without consequences,' murmured a voice in his mind that he forced himself to silence.
"Don't worry about me. Go to sleep, Harry," his uncle said, his voice heavy with fatigue.
Since his return, his uncle no longer wore his blindfold. Instead, his eyes were losing their opal hue. Harry's best guess was that his uncle had found a spell, ritual, or rune to achieve the same effect as the piece of cloth, but without the inconvenience of the fabric.
"Thank you for everything, Uncle Hadrian. I love you," the teenager said before turning onto his side, sleep overtaking him almost immediately.
"I love you too, Harry," his uncle murmured softly, leaning against the door for support to keep from collapsing. 'And I won't let her take anyone. I promise you that,' he vowed silently.
07/26/1995, 17H03, Malfoy Manor, England:
Lately, satisfaction had eluded Voldemort. His meticulously planned return to the wizarding world had been compromised by the unexpected interference of two individuals: Hadrian Potter and Alexander Greengrass.
The first, during a carefully executed attack, had decimated part of his loyal followers in Azkaban, inadvertently freeing Bellatrix Lestrange. She had found him and, alongside Barty Crouch Jr., helped him reconstitute his current physical form.
Confronted by the threat posed by the Potters, he had decided to accelerate his plans, performing a bloody ritual that required the blood of James and Lily Potter, a loyal follower's arm, and his father's bones.
However, the creation of his latest Horcrux, Nagini, had significantly weakened him. On Bellatrix's advice, he decided to recover one of his Horcruxes to regain strength.
He had first demanded that Lucius Malfoy return the diary, a Horcrux that the Death Eater admitted to having passed on to Ginny Weasley in a failed attempt to punish the traitorous family.
Malfoy's negative response triggered Voldemort's fierce anger, and the Death Eater had barely escaped with his life.
Hufflepuff's cup, hidden in Gringotts, was out of reach since Bellatrix was now highly wanted. Nagini, serving as both Horcrux and familiar, was essential and could not be sacrificed.
That left only Slytherin's locket, his family's ring, and Ravenclaw's diadem. The latter, hidden at Hogwarts, was harder to retrieve. He therefore focused on the first two. But, to his great surprise, they had vanished! The locket had apparently been stolen by Regulus Black, and was likely destroyed by Sirius, his brother, who had rejoined the Order of the Phoenix. As for the ring, it had disappeared from the Gaunt's hideout, which had been violently ransacked.
He knew Dumbledore wasn't behind this last theft. The old wizard was too meticulous to resort to such acts.
Only one name came to mind: Hadrian Potter.
Voldemort bound Severus Snape by an Unbreakable Vow, compelling him to recover the diadem of Ravenclaw hidden in the castle. The Potions Master succeeded, allowing Voldemort to carry out another ritual and recover part of his strength.
The first thing he decided to do afterward was to take down Hadrian Potter. He had tracked him, set a trap, and then… he had killed him.
Or so he believed. In the end, one of his most trusted men, Antonin Dolohov, was actually Alexander Greengrass, his true identity buried beneath countless charms. He had spent months secretly spying on him.
The final battle at the cemetery against the bounty hunter had left him with numerous wounds, having fought Harry and then Hadrian consecutively. He was thus not yet prepared for a rematch. Besides, with the men he had lost, he preferred to focus on recruiting new forces.
Just then, as he was considering his next move, he was abruptly interrupted by one of his men knocking at his door.
"Enter," he called, annoyed by the unexpected disturbance. He gave the Death Eater no time to explain and issued a cold command: "Speak."
"I have news for you, master! The Minister took the bait and issued a warrant for Hadrian Potter, believing him, as planned, to be behind the Azkaban attack," explained the dark wizard, unable to hide the fear in his voice.
"Excellent," Voldemort murmured, pleased that one of his plans was finally going his way. "Has he been captured?"
The man shook his head. "N-no, not yet. The entire m-ministry knows where he is, b-but they don't dare assault Potter Manor directly."
"Cowards!" the Dark Lord growled, ignoring the fact that it was precisely for this reason that his own men weren't currently being hunted.
"W-with Lucius gone, my lord, it has become difficult to relay orders to the Minister," the man admitted.
Voldemort raised his wand, and with a sharp flick, hissed, "Crucio!"
"I don't need you to repeat what I already know. Continue!"
The wizard struggled to his feet, forcing himself to finish his report. "A-Alexander Greengrass has r-resumed his role as Potter regent in the meantime. H-he'll hold the position until Harry P-Potter t-turns seventeen," he concluded, the pain racking his body disrupting his speech.
Voldemort nodded and dismissed the man. There was indeed much to do.
'I must deal with the Greengrass family first. They're close to the Potters and hold valuable information I need,' he thought, beginning to lay out his next plan.
Hadrian Potter was beyond his immediate reach. But neither he nor Dumbledore's foolish Order could foresee everything.
He had lost the battle, but not the war. Alliances needed to be forged, rituals performed, and an entire family brought down.
"This is war now," he hissed in Parseltongue, his red eyes glowing in the darkness.
Focusing on the marks on his servants' arms, he summoned them to gather. One by one, they appeared before him, kneeling. He waited patiently until his most faithful follower, Bellatrix, limped over to his side and collapsed to the ground in deference.
"My friends, the hour of vengeance has come. We will strike at the heart of our enemies. We will show the world that Voldemort has returned, and that he is more powerful than ever."