"Dad?" Harry asked, walking beside his father and out of the forest. The man glanced down at him. "What was Banwell?"

"A malicious Poltergeist, I assume."

"Why? I mean, what made him malicus?" Harry stumbled slightly, messing up the word.

"Malicious," Marvolo corrected instantly. He mouthed the word, getting a feel for it. Malicious. Harry found he didn't like that word. "And who knows. Even regular people can be turned into that after death, depending on how they died."

"He seemed so nice, though. We were just going to check out the house…" Harry mused to himself, kicking a rock and making a nearby bird scatter.

"That house was likely where the…you called him Banwell? The house was likely where Banwell had died. Although it could simply be his anchor, what was keeping him tied to the living world."

"And you destroyed it?"

"Of course," His father nodded, his hand on Harry's shoulder as they stepped out of the bushes, getting closer to the house. "It's the only way to kill the beasts."

"Ghosts can die?"

"In a way, yes. If their anchor is destroyed, they pass on. That's the most efficient way to go about it. You can exorcise them, which works as well, but they do have a chance of coming back when the veil is thin. And then you can contain them, which isn't killing them but works similarly."

"Containing?" Harry questioned.

"Yes. Tying the ghost to an object. Ghosts are pieces of soul left behind when they die."

"Will we become ghosts?" Harry asked after a while. He didn't want to be a ghost. It seemed lonely. And he could turn mean. Harry didn't want to be mean.

"Never, Hadrian," Marvolo said, his grip tightening. The sun was just barely above the treeline, soaking them in light and warmth. "We will never die."

"We won't?"

"Never." Marvolo released Harry's shoulder, and the boy instantly missed the pressure of his father's hand.

"Why did Banwell come after me?" He asked next as they walked into the house, instantly greeted by a relieved Bleak. Marvolo dismissed the creature.

"I do not know. Did it say anything?"

"Er, yeah. It said that I wasn't good." Harry tugged at his sleeve. "That I wasn't a good child because I was related to Charles."

"Charles, you say?" Marvolo opened his office door, Harry following inside. His back was sore from being dragged, but Father had healed his wounds with a quick flick of his wand. It didn't make them hurt any less, though. "Ah, I see."

"What is it?" Harry couldn't help but ask, taking his seat across the man's desk, sitting on his hands so he didn't fidget with them. Father hated it when he fidgeted.

"Charles Riddle, he would be your great grandfather." His father pulled a large book down, setting it in front of him. Harry's head swam for a few minutes as the book was placed in front of him. He must still be injured from earlier.

Harry looks at the photos in the book, waiting for his vision to refocus. The man is tall and imposing, with brown hair and blue eyes the same as his father's. Something tugs in Harry's chest. Looking at these photos, he feels happy. He's learning about his family, learning about his father, and it's so…small. And yet it makes his heart soar.

Harry traces a hand over the photos. This man had a beard. It was odd; Dad didn't have a beard, but you could still see how similar the two were. Harry looked down at his tan hands.

"So why did Banwell go after him?" Marvolo shrugs, pulling the book away. Harry felt a sense of loss, not being able to stare at the photo. Tom placed it on the middle shelf, turning back to him.

"Likely because the man had lots of money and power. People are jealous, Hadrian. They'll do anything out of jealousy."

Harry nodded, understanding. People were always trying to hurt Dad, too, if he understood the meeting he attended correctly. Harry didn't like the meetings much. They said a lot of crude things, which Mister-miss Nial told him quietly to never repeat. He glanced over at the shelf before looking down again.

"I wish I looked like you," Harry admitted quietly, looking down at his hands. He tugged at his sleeves gently before forcing them to settle in his lap. "Instead of like my mom."

"Hadrian," Marvolo tilted his head up, peering down at him, his blue eyes like ice. "I haven't been completely honest with you."

"What?" Harry can hardly believe his ears. Father wasn't honest? Father was always honest! The boy couldn't believe his ears.

"You are not my son, Hadrian."

His blood goes cold as if ice had been injected directly into his skull. His heartbeat thrums in his ears, heavy and stern. He tries to breathe, but it's like he had run outside in the middle of winter, his breath coming out in small, fickle pants.

"What?" It's all he manages to say. No, no, no! He is his son! Marvolo is his dad! He has to be!

"Breathe," Marvolo commands. Harry gasped for air, but his lungs didn't expand. "Hadrian."

His father lays a hand on his head, instantly ceasing his mind's rambling. Harry sucks in breath, his head spinning even more as he blinks, coming back to the present.

"Huh?"

"Are you done freaking out?" Marvolo asked. Harry nodded, rubbing his face. His left leg shook.

"Yes, yes, I'm- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-"

"Allow me to explain." The man crouches in front of Harry, smiling gently. Harry takes a deep breath and nods.

"Okay…"

"Many years ago, I found you outside all alone. Abandoned and cold. It was October, after all. You were so, so dirty, Hadrian. And all alone. But you seemed so powerful, so worthy, I just had to take you under my wing."

"You had to…?"

"Of course, Hadrian. Look at you now: apparition, spirits being attracted to you, your wit; you're already my son, even if not by blood."

The words rang in his head. My son, my son, my son. That's right, even if Harry wasn't related to him by blood, Harry was still his son!

"Of course, if you want to, we can change that."

Harry's head snaps up. Marvolo goes behind his desk, pulling out a small clear vial, the red potion inside thick and dark. Harry peers at it curiously, especially as the man slides it in front of him. Harry picks it up at his father's nod, inspecting it. It moves like sludge.

"What is it?"

"This, Hadrian, will make you my son." He explained, sitting back in his chair. "You see, this is an adoption potion. I'd have done it when you were young, but you need to be old enough to comprehend what's happening. You're old enough for that now."

"So this…"

"It replaces your DNA with my own, making us one and the same. You will likely look exactly like me." Marvolo grinned beneath his hands. Harry's eyes sparkled with joy. Could he look like Dad? Yes!

"So I just drink it?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but-"

Harry uncorked the vial and threw it back, swallowing the disgusting mixture. It tasted like iron, cherries and grass. Harry gagged but drank it all. His father sighed, shaking his head.

"This is a big responsibility, Hadrian. You can't go into it mindlessly. Though, that doesn't matter now, does it?"

Harry's eyes rolled back, and he slumped in his chair. Marvolo got up, picking up the vial from the floor. He unravelled a piece of parchment, watching as the red words changed to black.

Harry Potter

The words begin to change

Hadrian Riddle

Good, very good. Marvolo ignored the boy, convulsing in his chair. The child drooled, and with a wave of his wand, he cleaned it up, watching as his warm brown hair began to change into a cooler tone, just like Marvolo's own. He watched in slight fascination as the tan skin the boy had begun to pale slightly, gaining cooler undertones than the one he was born with. Good. Once the boy looked like him, he could send him to Hogwarts easily. Give the old fool a scare with his own mini-me.

If only that horrid scar would go away, too. Oh well. Marvolo tilted the boy's head back, pulling open one of his eyelids. He watched with a smirk as the green hue faded and paled, leaving his iris. He watched as the faded green turned into a shade of blue. Not completely like his own, but with only his blood in the potion, it made sense. Still, the colour was close enough. He let the boy's head roll back.

Hadrian would be his weapon, his tool against the simple-minded idiots of the world. Marvolo would make sure of it.