Disclaimer: As we are getting closer to the end of the story, I'm still not the owner of Harry Potter...
Tom Kristal: I have no idea of what you are talking about. I checked in case I posted one chapter twice, but it doesn't look like I did, so... No idea.
Rodrigo: Thanks a lot ! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter too. Take care !
CaskettFan5: I have no idea how many times I have written your username but damn... Anyway, as always thanks for reviewing. Here's the chapter where Hadrian opens up a little to Fortuna. About Siena, well, she escaped, so it's not like he could have done much more. His mistake was not to kill her back in his time to be honest. But sadly that's how things are (and thanks to that, I still have a powerful antagonist to use hahaha). Anyway, have a good day !
Blood L Staz: God, if you are sick of the headband at chapter 7, I'm really sorry for you. I guess you won't even reach that answer, but well, I'll still write it in case. So about training his eyes... Well he can't. That's the price he paid for doing all the rituals at once. His eyes are extremely powerful at receiving informations, but leave him in a lot of pain. After the time skip, things get better, but before... well it's not like a few days after it would change anything. About the Gojo part, I already answered to some people, so i won't repeat. But why should I change a part of my story because you don't like it. There's nothing really wrong with it, and I like it. And it's not like Hadrian is Gojo. You don't have to read too much of the story to notice that. Anyway, thanks for reviewing, I guess.
10/03/1995, 10H32, Potter Manor, England:
"Hadrian… I'm listening," Fortuna sighed once more, watching him with a compassion that couldn't be mistaken. The weight of what was about to be said hung heavily in the air, like a shroud darkening the room. They had already been sitting across from each other for half an hour, in front of the Potter's Pensieve, and the silence between them seemed to stretch into eternity.
Until now, she had never suspected the extent to which his past haunted him. But his gaze, both distant and troubled, the subtle tremors in his hands, and the oppressive silence that had settled between them left no doubt about the depth of his torment. A knot tightened in her chest at the thought of the pain he must be feeling.
Part of her hesitated. Talking about his past clearly affected him deeply. And yet, she knew he needed to free himself from it. He couldn't continue bearing this burden alone. He had been her support during her darkest moments; it was now her duty to help him through this ordeal. She took a deep breath, determined to listen to him until the end.
"Since the first day I arrived here," he began, lifting his unnaturally white eyes to her, "I wondered when the time would come for me to reveal who I truly am. I knew that day would come, but I kept postponing it, out of fear of what you might think."
He abruptly stood, brushing aside the Pensieve with a wave of his hand. "I'm going to show you everything, but first, I have to accept my past. I need to stop running from it." He walked over to the window, his gaze lost in the distance. Memories buried so deeply must have been excruciating to unearth… At least, that was what Fortuna thought.
Turning back to her, he took a deep breath. "I am Harry James Potter, born on July 31, 1980, to Lily and James Potter," he declared gravely. The words reverberated through the room, shattering the silence.
Fortuna's eyes widened in shock. She stood as well and moved toward him, her heart pounding. Even though she had prepared herself for this moment, the revelation still hit her like a tidal wave.
Ignoring her reaction, he continued: "I grew up with the Dursleys. I studied at Hogwarts… I survived, but at a terrible cost. My godfather, my friends… Everyone suffered because of me." He spoke these words with palpable bitterness, as if blaming himself for all that had happened.
He paused, observing Fortuna's reaction. She scrutinised him with meticulous attention, before nodding slowly. She knew he needed to be heard, to be understood.
"Go on, Hadrian," she said softly, emphasizing his name. The tone of her voice, imbued with compassion, encouraged him to continue.
A glimmer of hope sparked within him. "I worked at the Ministry, got married, and had three children: Lily, Albus, and James," he went on, a nostalgic smile briefly touching his lips. The memory of those happy moments seemed to bring him a modicum of peace.
"I spent most of my time working, and I wasn't really there for them. To be honest, I wasn't a good father. Not for them, nor for Harry," he admitted, lowering his gaze. The weight of his failings seemed to bear down on him.
"I'll hold my judgment on your family once I've heard the whole story. But don't label yourself a bad parent for Harry. You must have made incredibly difficult decisions, preparing him to fight one of the darkest lords of all time. Don't be so hard on yourself," she reassured him, placing a hand over his. Her words, filled with understanding, comforted him somewhat.
Hadrian studied her face. It seemed tense, as if she hadn't yet fully processed who he truly was. Nevertheless, he felt an overwhelming love emanating from her. He was overcome by immense gratitude.
'For once in my life, fate is giving me a chance,' he thought, feeling more confident about continuing his story.
"One day, my best friend at the time, Ron Weasley, leaked a crucial piece of information to the press: the source of Voldemort's immortality. From that moment, everything spiraled out of control. Powerful dark wizards began emerging from the shadows, wars erupted around the globe—it was utter chaos," he said, his voice filled with anguish as he recounted that terrible era. His face twisted in pain at the memory.
"It was during that time that my family was…"
"Killed?" she finished for him, the words seemingly as difficult for her to say as they were for Hadrian. A long, oppressive silence followed.
After all, she too had lost her parents to dark wizards. She could understand the suffering he was enduring. An invisible bond was forged between them, forged through shared hardship.
"Yes. I joined a group dedicated to eliminating as many of them as possible," he continued. His voice had grown cold, almost mechanical.
His face contorted as he failed to suppress the hatred he felt toward those who had taken his family. "I hunted those bastards to the last one. Every day, the only thing that mattered to me, the only thing that kept me going, was killing them. The only way I could feel any satisfaction, any motivation to stay alive, was to wipe those men and women off the face of the Earth." His eyes glinted with restrained fury.
He clenched his fists. "So I captured, tortured, and killed hundreds—maybe thousands. All of it until our group was sent to Italy to face two powerful dark wizards: Sethom and Siena." He spoke like an automaton, detached from his own actions.
Fortuna raised her eyebrows, her mind beginning to piece things together. She was starting to grasp the magnitude of the horrors he had endured.
"Everyone else died, but I managed to defeat them. That's when it happened…"
He then explained his attempt to use time magic to repair the damage and the chaos it had unleashed. His story was a whirlwind of emotions, fluctuating between despair and determination.
"When I arrived here, my magical core was in ruins, and the only thing I clung to—my vengeance—was no longer relevant," he said, lifting his hands to his face. His eyes shone with infinite sadness.
"In this world, Sirius, Remus, my old friends—they were all alive. All I had to do was ensure their survival..." He paused, his breath short, as if merely recalling those times tore at his heart.
He turned his head toward her and grimaced. "But that was without accounting for all the wars, the dark wizards, without accounting for Voldemort and his army. I knew everything that was going to happen, and I was alone. If I wanted the greatest number to survive, I had to eliminate them all." His voice carried a bitterness that chilled the blood.
Taking her hand in his, he lifted it to his face. "I managed to repair my magical core through a ritual, which, incidentally, also changed the color of my pupils. Without that, I doubt my identity could have remained hidden for so long," he admitted. His opalescent eyes seemed to harbor ancient secrets.
"I burned away what was left of Harry Potter within me to become Hadrian Potter, the soldier in pursuit of peace that I am today," he finished, resting their joined hands on his thigh. A weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.
"The memories you'll see will show you everything. I'm sorry I kept all of this from you, Fortuna." He lowered his gaze, ashamed.
He took one final deep breath and concluded his monologue. "You want to know who I am? I am Hadrian Potter, formerly Harry James Potter. I am a time traveler, and I master the domain of time." His words echoed through the room like a voice in a bottomless well.
A new silence followed his final declaration. For his part, Hadrian felt lighter than he had in years. For the first time in a long while, he felt as if he could finally breathe.
Of course, he was worried about losing Fortuna's trust by revealing this to her. After all, he had kept this secret for years, lying about his true identity. The fear of betrayal gnawed at him.
Yet, having finally told someone eased his burden. Simply being heard made him feel deeply indebted to the blonde. For the first time, he had found someone he could trust.
"So, you're an older version of Harry. I understand better now," she sighed. Her voice was soft, but there was a certain distance between them.
"I think part of me already knew," she admitted. "With your mastery of time magic, a journey like this doesn't seem impossible." She smiled faintly, but her eyes betrayed no emotion.
She stood and gazed into his eyes. "In reality, this changes little for me. No matter your real name or date of birth... Let's be honest, if you'd told me this when we first met, I wouldn't have believed you." Her words were direct, with no pretense.
"What matters to me," she continued, "is whether you've been honest with me. Do you truly love me? Everything we've experienced until now… Was it real?" Her eyes sparkled with a hint of worry.
Hadrian immediately nodded, as if the mere idea of the contrary offended him. "Of course! I have no reason to lie about that! I love you, Fortuna," he declared, his voice firm and resolute. A glimmer of honesty shone in his eyes, dispelling any doubt.
"I may be a monster, a murderer who wouldn't hesitate to eliminate a dark wizard without a second thought. But I don't play with feelings. Especially not with someone as good as you," he growled, a faint shockwave rippling from his body in his anger. His words were raw, yet they carried an overwhelming sincerity.
"Calm down, Hadrian. I'm not accusing you of that. I know you'd have no reason to do such a thing," she said, lowering her head. Her voice was soothing, calming.
"You're powerful enough to face anyone who might threaten Harry. Right now, even the boy himself is stronger than me. So I know you wouldn't gain anything by playing with my heart like that." She emphasized the absurdity of such a suggestion.
Hadrian stepped closer to her and pulled her into his arms. "I'm glad you know I'd never do that. But don't think you're insignificant. You've done so much for the Potter family, and without you, we wouldn't be where we are," he said, his voice full of gratitude. He held her tightly, cherishing every moment.
They remained in each other's arms for several minutes, savoring the peace of the moment. A companionable silence settled between them, heavy with emotion.
"Without you, I'd have died long ago," she murmured into his chest, her voice trembling with emotion as she reflected on what had become of her in Hadrian's time.
"Same for me," he replied. "You saved my life, supported Sirius, Remus, and Harry in my absence, and took care of training the DWTmembers. You're a cornerstone of this family, and you belong here. Never doubt that." He looked her straight in the eyes, his words brimming with sincerity.
The powerful Elemental nodded, basking in Hadrian's embrace. A smile lit up her face.
"Thank you for being honest with me," she said, pulling back slightly. "I don't care who you were in the past. Today, you are Hadrian Potter, Harry Potter's uncle and the man I love. And to me, that's all that matters." Her words were simple but carried profound truth.
Hadrian gazed at her and closed his eyes peacefully. He whispered silent thanks and asked, "Do you want to see the memories?" A slight shiver ran down his spine at the thought of sharing those moments with her.
Fortuna tilted her head and replied, "Only the ones you're comfortable sharing. After all, we have our whole lives ahead of us. Why rush?" She smiled, happy to finally share this moment with him.
10/05/1995, 16H54, Hogwarts, Scotland:
Albus Dumbledore sighed wearily, gently massaging his temples to ease the headache that plagued him. Dolores Umbridge's presence at the school was occupying far more of his attention than he would have liked. Like a viper concealed at the heart of Hogwarts, the woman seemed determined to spread her venom and make her students suffer.
He had gathered testimonies from several students and taken them to the Minister. Yet Cornelius Fudge, blinded by his desire to maintain the status quo, had turned a deaf ear. Dumbledore no longer knew what to do with such a stubborn bureaucrat. The man needed to be removed from power—and soon. He could no longer bear to see the scars forming on his students' hands, those indelible marks of intolerable cruelty.
But what could he do? None of the students would testify before the Wizengamot, likely out of fear for their families' safety. Without their accounts, his accusations would be deemed defamatory, and he could lose his position at the school. Without him at Hogwarts, who would stand against Dolores's dark ideas?
Suddenly, he felt the wards at the entrance of his office tremble. Only one person had the power to do that, and he knew exactly who it was.
"Come in, Hadrian," he sighed, watching as the man he had once believed dead stepped into the office and sank into the chair before him. The bounty hunter seemed utterly exhausted. The lines of his face were drawn, his dark-circled eyes fought to stay open, and his magic fluctuated like a failing artifact. Yet despite it all, his strong posture and commanding aura remained intact.
"How are you, Hadrian?" the headmaster asked, unable to hide the concern he felt for his friend.
"I'm fine, Albus. And you? You look even more worn out than I am," Hadrian observed, his gaze lingering on the deep wrinkles that etched the older wizard's face.
The old man let out a faint chuckle and nodded. "You're not wrong," he replied. "But tell me, how can I help you?"
Hadrian took a deep breath, placing his hands on the desk and unintentionally compressing his magical core. A wave of anger began to emanate from him like a dark smoke. "You know why I'm here, Albus! Why did you give that power to Harry? Why burden him with Death at his age?" he exclaimed, his fury shattering every pane of glass in the office.
Dumbledore closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. "I believed… and still believe… that he is capable of wielding this power. I've seen it in his eyes, in his heart. I know he won't be overcome by it, as Grindelwald and I once were," he said earnestly, his voice filled with conviction.
Hadrian slammed the desk again, unable to contain his emotions. "No one is ever ready to master Death, Albus!" he roared, his voice reverberating through the room.
Leaning forward, he fixed the headmaster with a piercing gaze. "Death is a concept! Not some school subject! What on earth were you thinking?"
The years showed on Dumbledore's face as he sank into his chair, his features heavy with weariness. "What did you expect me to do, Hadrian? I saw Harry face Voldemort. At that time, you hadn't yet returned. If Tom attacked again…" His voice was faint, laden with regret.
Hadrian sighed, easing the tension he had built up. "I understand, Albus. I don't blame you for making a mistake. Merlin knows I've been making plenty of my own lately," he admitted with a bitter smile.
"But what I do hold against you is not explaining to him what lay ahead." There was an edge of accusation in his voice, tempered by deep sadness.
The headmaster nodded, remaining silent for a moment before sighing. "Would it have made a difference? Do you think he would have refused?"
Hadrian closed his eyes and swallowed hard, already knowing the answer to the question. "No, he would have taken it. But that doesn't change anything. Mastering Death at his age is nearly impossible. You should have told him."
Dumbledore, understanding the younger wizard's reproach, apologized again. "You're right, Hadrian… as always. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps, deep down, I didn't trust myself to keep those artifacts safe long enough for Harry to be ready. After all, their allure has guided much of my life," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret.
Hadrian sighed deeply. "It's trying to control him, Albus. Sometimes… he manages to resist. Other times… not." He trailed off, leaving the unspoken words heavy in the air.
The former Transfiguration professor furrowed his brow, leaning forward and placing his wand on the desk in front of Hadrian. "I know words mean little to you. So, for once, I'll be brief," he said with a twinkle in his half-moon glasses, attempting to lighten the mood.
"My wand is at your disposal, Hadrian. I trust you to make the right decisions for Harry—the ones I failed to make." He extended his hand toward Hadrian, who clasped it, a symbolic gesture of trust.
Rising to his full height, Dumbledore declared with seriousness, "If you need me for anything, you can count on me." His gaze locked with Hadrian's, unflinching.
The time traveler sensed the older man's determination to atone. Yet a part of him couldn't shake his doubts. He repeated the question: "Anything? You'd be willing to do anything?"
The headmaster nodded, awaiting Hadrian's request. "Anything within my power, Hadrian. For Harry, I am willing to do whatever it takes."
"In that case, I'll need you for a mission. A great battle is coming, and having you by my side could truly change the outcome." Hadrian felt a weight lift from his shoulders. At last, he had found an ally he could trust.
10/19/1995, 21H21, Hogwarts, Scotland:
Harry ducked under Daphne's spell, countering with surprising agility. He smashed a chair and transformed each of its legs into long, sharp stakes, launching them toward Hermione and Neville. The two Gryffindors dove to the floor, barely dodging the young green-eyed wizard's attacks as he engaged in an intense duel with Daphne.
Harry quickly gained the upper hand, making Daphne stumble with a clever spell and preparing to disarm her—when a vine suddenly wrapped around his ankle, holding him in place for a moment.
"Damn," he muttered. With a swift motion, he crushed the vine as if it were no more than a blade of grass. Then, he conjured two blocks of ice, rapidly sculpting them into formidable golems. Simultaneously, with impressive dexterity, he created a thick fog, concealing his movements and shielding him from prying eyes.
"Daphne?! Where are you? Neville and I are together! Come join us!" Hermione called, her voice echoing through the fog.
Harry raised an eyebrow. That was a dangerous piece of information to give away. Sure, it would help the Slytherin avoid being isolated, but it also revealed their position. 'She's not focusing enough on her own safety. In a real fight, that would be a fatal mistake' he thought. Shaking his head, he finished his golems and prepared to cast the spell that would control them—only for one of them to explode from an unexpected spell.
Instinctively, he threw his strongest shield over the second golem, protecting it just in time from a powerful Bombarda launched by Hermione and Neville.
"You found me rather quickly," Harry noted with a sly smile as the trio faced him.
"Your fog conceals your presence… but not your magic. You're detectable with a simple Revelio," Hermione replied with determination.
The young master of death filed that information away for later and tore up the ground for protection, creating a deep trench. Wasting no time, he banished the earth toward his three opponents, who barely managed to defend themselves.
Harry lost patience then, focusing on controlling his magical core. Suddenly, a powerful force emanated from him, drawing his adversaries toward him like moths to a flame.
"I've got you exactly where I want you!" he shouted, his voice thunderous, before planting his wand into the ground.
"No! That's why he was trying to bring us together!" Daphne realized, her face paling. She was the first to be forced to the ground by the gravity spell that pinned them all in place.
Neville tried to cast one last spell but failed, finding himself pressed to the ground alongside his two combat partners.
"Expelliarmus," Harry murmured, disarming all three of them with precision.
"It's over." The oppressive force dissipated, leaving the three young wizards exhausted and sprawled on the floor.
"We're still nowhere near your level," Neville sighed, struggling to get back on his feet.
"In raw combat, we can hold out. But as soon as you unleash your magic, the difference in power becomes overwhelming," Hermione admitted, disappointment evident in her voice.
"Stop beating yourselves up over this," Daphne interjected sharply, cutting through their concerns. "Harry has the power to stand against Voldemort. It's normal that we can't defeat him. In fact, we should be proud we can even face him," she snapped, Hermione's words stirring memories of her own fears years ago.
"She's right, you know. The fact that you stayed standing against the amount of magic I unleashed is already incredibly impressive," Harry added, picking up where his girlfriend left off, an amused smile on his lips.
Neville nodded, conjured a chair, and dropped into it. He was soon joined by the others, all taking advantage of the well-earned break.
Outside of Harry's lessons, they regularly came to this secret room to train together. Usually, they fought as a trio against him, honing their skills under his expert guidance. Occasionally, they sparred against each other while he supervised, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses.
"It feels good to take a break," Neville sighed as Hermione let out a weary breath, her face showing the strain.
"I couldn't agree more."
"Have you made any progress on your end?" Harry asked, taking the opportunity to check on the progress of their mission.
"I've gathered several testimonies with Hermione, but nothing conclusive. They all refuse to let their names be revealed, even the brave Gryffindors," Daphne admitted, unable to hide her frustration at the students' inaction.
Harry nodded, clenching his fists at his own lack of effectiveness. "Every day that passes, the minister gives her more power. We need to act quickly, or…"
He trailed off, a dark foreboding settling over him. Part of him was beginning to consider his backup plan—a radical solution he wanted to avoid but that seemed increasingly inevitable.
He knew it would cause him a lot of trouble, but he couldn't let things continue as they were. Dumbledore was doing nothing, the other professors were silent, and the minister blindly supported Umbridge. If no one else acted, he would stop her himself.
"Her next class is soon. Maybe we should confront her during it. She won't be able to deny it with an entire class accusing her!" Hermione proposed, her fists clenched in determination. Like her best friend, she hated the feeling of powerlessness. If she could make a difference, she would.
"But if no one supports us, all that will do is earn us more detentions!" Neville countered, doubting the plan's effectiveness.
"I agree, but… Ugh! It's so frustrating!" Hermione burst out, punching her thigh in frustration.
"We'll put an end to this. We just need to stay calm and methodical. You're the one who always says that—remember?" Neville reminded her, a weak smile forming on his lips.
"You're right…" Hermione sighed in defeat, the weight of the situation bearing down on her.
Daphne approached Harry, recognizing the dark look in his eyes. "You have an idea, don't you?" she asked, gently taking his hand, her fingers intertwining with his.
Silently, he nodded, confirming the young blonde's hypothesis. "I have two plans. One I'd rather not speak of, and another that won't work. Not very encouraging," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"Why wouldn't it work?" Daphne asked critically, seeking to understand.
He turned to her and explained, "I thought about giving all our evidence to the press. But The Daily Prophet is still under the Ministry's control. Nothing will get out as long as Fudge is minister."
Daphne nodded, thinking for a moment. "It's a good idea. Even if it wouldn't stop her, it might force her to tone it down a bit. We'd gain more time to build a stronger case against her," she mused aloud, her eyes gleaming with determination.
Hermione, having listened to Harry's idea, added her input. "I agree with Daphne. It might even push the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to open an investigation. I can't imagine Susan's aunt ignoring something like this. But Harry, does it have to go to The Daily Prophet?"
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, puzzled.
Neville seemed to catch on. A mischievous smile lit up his face. "Of course! You're brilliant, Hermione! Harry, even if we can't access The Daily Prophet, I know another paper that would publish this. It's not the most reliable, but with our names on it, no one will dare question it!"
"You're talking about…" Daphne began, receiving a thumbs-up from the Gryffindor duo, their smiles full of mischief.
"Would someone mind explaining?" Harry grumbled, annoyed at being left out of his own plan.
"I'll introduce you to someone, Harry. She's a fourth-year Ravenclaw. Her name is Luna Lovegood. Come with me!" Hermione declared, rushing out of the Room of Requirement with Neville in tow, her boundless energy infectious.
Harry stood, a mix of curiosity and impatience driving him. "I hope this is worth it," he sighed, squeezing Daphne's hand.
The young Slytherin stepped in front of him, looking into his eyes for a moment before standing on tiptoes to kiss him. It was soft and tender. "Trust me. Granger may be overenthusiastic sometimes, but this time, she's onto something. Let's follow them," she whispered, pulling him toward the door.
'Luna Lovegood, huh? I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before… Never mind. It can't be that important', Harry thought, a smile forming on his lips. The adventure ahead promised to be interesting.
11/01/1995, 01H05, ?, Romania:
Two women, wrapped in thick furs that barely shielded them from the biting Siberian blizzard sweeping through the shabby Romanian street, slipped discreetly into a shadowy alleyway. The icy wind howled between the dilapidated buildings, whipping up spirals of snow that obscured their vision.
"We're here," one of them confirmed, her voice muffled by the high collar of her fur coat. Her eyes, gleaming with a dark intensity, studied the building in front of them. "This is the place. Follow me."
With a confident motion, she drew her wand and traced an intricate pattern in the air, disarming the protective spell on the entrance. The heavy wooden doors creaked on their hinges, revealing a damp, darkened hall.
"Stay behind me," she commanded in a gruff voice, stepping into the darkness.
The second woman, younger and less experienced, hesitated before following. A shiver ran down her spine, caused not only by the cold but also by the oppressive atmosphere of the place.
Inside, the two witches shrugged off their heavy coats, revealing dark robes that sharply contrasted with the snow's brightness outside. However, they kept their warming charms active, as the glacial air seeped through the cracks in the walls.
"What should I call you?" asked the younger one, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Nemesis. Let's avoid any confusion. Besides, the name suits me," replied the other, flashing an enigmatic smile. Her black eyes, as deep as bottomless pits, seemed to pierce through her companion's soul.
"So, I'm Siena, and you're Nemesis. Got it!" said the younger one eagerly as she ventured into the parlor, her steps echoing on the creaking wooden floor.
Nemesis followed, sprawling into a worn armchair. "Don't worry, Siena. Even the Dark Lord will eventually join our cause. He doesn't have a choice. And if he doesn't, we have an escape plan. I know every inch of this house."
Siena sighed, a faintly bitter smile on her lips. "You always have a plan, 'big sister.' I still remember that surprise attack on Fortuna Moon… what a disaster!"
Nemesis raised an eyebrow. "There was an unforeseen complication. And look at us—we're still alive. So stop complaining," she retorted, her tone irritated. "Good grief, I don't remember being this… short-sighted when I was your age." She fell silent, lost in thought.
Suddenly, a loud crash shook the house. The front door exploded under the force of a powerful spell, letting in a blast of icy wind.
"He's here," Nemesis murmured, her expression hardening. She gripped her wand tightly, ready to confront the Dark Lord.
In the doorway stood a dark silhouette. Voldemort, pale-faced with glowing red eyes, stepped forward with slow, deliberate strides. His gaze swept over the two women before he raised his wand, preparing to strike.
Without hesitation, he launched a series of explosive curses at Nemesis. Expecting the assault, she did not flinch. Instead of dodging, she waited for the spell to reach her and, with precise timing, caught it at the tip of her wand.
The captured spell gathered renewed energy before rebounding violently. This bold and risky maneuver redirected the curse back at its caster. A rarely mastered technique, it was even less frequently seen in the heat of battle.
'A dangerous magical feat, but extraordinarily effective when executed flawlessly', Nemesis thought, watching as the Dark Lord was thrown against the wall.
"Stop fighting! We want to negotiate an alliance!" Siena shouted from her hiding spot.
Voldemort groaned, rising unscathed. He fixed his adversary with a menacing glare, his eyes narrowing with fury. "And what terms could possibly warrant such an alliance?" he demanded.
Ordinarily, he would have dismissed any offer outright. He was Voldemort—the Dark Lord, a figure of terror and unmatched power. However, his recent defeats at the hands of Hadrian Potter had left him weakened, forcing him to consider alternative strategies.
One option was to continue his dark rituals to grow stronger. Yet that path, though tempting, was fraught with peril and could lead to his downfall. The other was to forge alliances to topple Dumbledore and the Potters. He knew the Potters had many enemies across the wizarding world, enemies he could potentially rally to his side.
As for the woman who had just deflected his attack, her full capabilities were unknown. Still, the prospect of recruiting her was intriguing. Such an ally could greatly bolster his ranks.
"You have a few moments to make your case. After that, I will end your life," he threatened, wand at the ready.
"I can kill Hadrian Potter," she declared, interrupting his dark musings.
He rolled his eyes, exasperated. "If I had a GalLeon for every time I've heard that claim, I'd be richer than Gringotts."
"You misunderstand me. I can do it. I've known him for years, and I understand the intricacies of his magic," she explained patiently, knowing that even the smallest misstep could cost her dearly.
"And what else do you have to offer?" he asked, his Slytherin cunning surfacing.
Nemesis had proven her abilities. Not only had she resisted his initial attacks, but she had also taken several of his Death Eaters captive—his primary reason for coming here.
"How can I be certain you can defeat him?" he pressed, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
She didn't respond. Instead, she raised her wand and pointed it at a damaged section of the wall. Under Voldemort's incredulous gaze, she repaired the surface using the same time-reversal incantation mastered by Hadrian Potter.
"My abilities in this domain have limits, but they allow me to counter his attacks without being overly weakened. Without this power, he is just another wizard—albeit a powerful one."
Voldemort nodded, considering her words. He lowered his wand but kept it within reach, a maniacal laugh escaping his lips.
He had found it—the missing piece. The key to overcoming the Potters.
"You wish to eliminate Harry Potter, and we wish to eliminate Hadrian. I believe we can come to an agreement," Nemesis proposed.
Voldemort scrutinized her for a moment before casting a Legilimency spell. The woman staggered, her mental defenses crumbling under the assault. He delved into her mind, sensing the hatred and fury she harbored for Hadrian Potter, as well as the sincerity of her intentions.
Satisfied, he withdrew, leaving her with a splitting headache and a wave of nausea.
"Are you all right, big sister?" Siena asked, stepping cautiously out of her hiding spot.
"Your mental defenses are impressive," Voldemort acknowledged. "Speak. What is your plan?"
Nemesis straightened, exhausted but resolute. "Over the past four years, I've gathered everyone Hadrian has wronged. From his Spanish enemies to the remnants of Alexei's army in Russia, and even the werewolves he hunted—I've built an army ready to fight him."
As she spoke, Voldemort's smile widened. He finally understood why he had struggled to rally forces against the bounty hunter. Most of them had already been recruited by someone else—someone who shared his vendetta.
"I see. And you propose to share command of this army in exchange for my help in killing Hadrian Potter," he mused aloud.
She nodded in agreement.
Nemesis was no fool. She knew full well that the Dark Lord's immense ego would eventually drive him to betray her and her younger self. But it didn't matter.
For now, Voldemort had no reason to eliminate them. They shared a common enemy, and their magical abilities were comparable. And Merlin knew the Dark Lord already had enough enemies to deal with.
All she needed was an escape plan in case Hadrian fell. What good was victory if she perished before she could savor her vengeance?
'Harry Potter will fall. Hadrian Potter will fall. The magical world will be exposed to the masses… and it will all be my doing', she vowed, her heart ablaze with magic.
That wretched time traveler dared to proclaim himself the champion of vengeance? She would show him what true vengeance looked like.
?/?/1995, ?H?, ?, England:
"By Merlin, tell me I'm dreaming," grumbled Hadrian, staring in stunned disbelief at the countless army of witches, wizards, magical creatures, and strange beings emerging over the surrounding hills.
"Hadrian… I do not doubt your abilities, nor my own, for that matter. However, I fear we are ill-equipped to face such a horde on our own," his companion sighed, the worry evident on his face.
"I know, but we have no other choice," Hadrian replied, his breath shallow. "We have to buy time for our allies to complete their mission."
"And what if it's a trap?" the second mage questioned, his natural caution driving him to consider every possibility. "What if the goal is to lure you here, to drain your strength and isolate you from the group?"
"Then whoever orchestrated this plot gravely underestimates the power of Harry, his friends, Fortuna, and Sirius," Hadrian said firmly.
The second sorcerer nodded, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "They're all driven by a thirst for vengeance. I believe there's only one way to end this vicious cycle," he admitted, raising his wand toward the sky.
Hadrian nodded in agreement, determination blazing in his eyes. "We must break the chain, no matter the cost."
And so, the two wizards advanced, standing alone against the hostile army, ready to face their destiny.
11/12/1995, 22H12, Potter Manor, England:
"That vision again..." Hadrian grumbled, sitting up from his desk.
Never before had he been confronted with such relentless repetition. Since the revelation, it had haunted him incessantly.
"Could it be a prophecy? If these events come to pass…" he sighed, bitterness washing over him.
"No! I promised her we'd get through this together. I will survive, even if it means defying fate itself!" he declared internally, his determination blazing in his eyes.
The final battle was drawing inexorably closer. The two Sienas, Voldemort… Once these threats were vanquished, it would all be over. He could finally find peace.
I must continue my preparations. If my vision comes true, they'll attack simultaneously, but on two separate fronts. I can't let that happen. Back to work!