Disclaimer: The Muggle that I am still doesn't have the rights for Harry Potter. I'm only the poor author of this fanfiction.
LaEmporoar: Hahaha, I mean it would be a funny crossover to have characters as strong as Gojo and Sukuna in Harry Potter. Fights between them would be legendary ! Anyway, thanks for reviewing !
Rodrigo: I'm glad you enjoy the story that much ! Here's a new chapter. Take care, and have a good day !
CaskettFan5: Well, if you haven't noticed anything, then that's perfect. No, more seriously, back when I wrote the french version of this chapter, I got some people commenting about the fact that Hadrian would more than likely have seen that coming, especially with how much damage he and Alexander did before escaping. So, not having put a protection or something to keep Voldemort away was apparently a bit out of character for him. I didn't agree, but in the end, it didn't change much with how I wanted the story to go. Anyway, that being said, thanks for reviewing, and have a great day !
Well, with that chapter, the "holiday' arc is already over. The french version of the story is completed, but I have some exams coming, so I think I won't change the uploading schedule of this version until they are over. Meanwhile, with the story slowly approaching its end, I might start to rewrite some stuff people commented on, or that I didn't like. I'll see. Anyway, thanks for reading up until that point, and have a good read !
08/08/1995, 15H13, Greengrass Manor, England:
Hadrian and Fortuna had been navigating the labyrinthine halls of the manor for what felt like an eternity. The DWT members, initially assigned to assist them, had been redirected to a new mission: finding Remus Lupin.
"You can count on us for the rest of the search, my friends. We'll take the rest from here," Hadrian had declared firmly before plunging into the depths of the Greengrass family's ancient home.
Now, a suffocating silence hung between the two bounty hunters as they moved warily through the shadowy corridors. Each creaking door revealed room after room of eerily pristine yet ghostly decor. Finally, Fortuna, who had appeared composed despite the arduous quest, broke the silence.
"Hadrian, I don't doubt your abilities, but I can't help but wonder: surely you anticipated this possibility? Did you not set up any additional safeguards? An emergency Portkey, perhaps?" she asked, her voice tinged with genuine concern.
Hadrian suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening slightly. He placed his hands on Fortuna's shoulders, and she noticed his body trembling unusually. A chill ran down her spine. Something was wrong. Before she could ask another question, a piercing scream escaped Hadrian's throat. Beneath him, a clock—the emblem of his extraordinary power—manifested, glowing ominously.
"GET BACK!" he shouted, collapsing to his knees. His typically neat hair bristled like angry serpents, giving him a fearsome appearance. "Stop it! STOP IT, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" he begged, his face contorted in agony.
Fortuna felt an invisible force lift her and hurl her violently down the hallway. Spinning around, she saw Hadrian writhing on the ground, battling an unseen, dark force. His voice fractured, speaking in multiple tones as if addressing phantoms of himself, lost in the labyrinth of his own mind.
"I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN! I GAVE HIM THE PORTKEY!" he screamed, despair etched into his face.
*BOOM-BOOM*
The sound of his heartbeat thundered through the oppressive silence, amplified by his unleashed magic.
"Hadrian! What's happening?" Fortuna called, her voice trembling. Instead of a response, she heard footsteps behind her.
Sirius Black suddenly appeared from around a corner, his expression grave as he took in the scene.
"Sirius! Do you know what's happening to him?" Fortuna demanded, spinning toward the animagus.
Sirius hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly.
"Then tell me! Otherwise, Hadrian's plight will be the least of your worries!" she snapped, grabbing Sirius by the collar.
Behind them, Hadrian's struggles continued, his murmurs growing increasingly incoherent. He seemed trapped in a nightmare, unable to awaken.
"THE SAFEGUARDS... I HAD THEM IN PLACE!" he shouted angrily, slamming his fist into the floor. His eyes suddenly glimmered with a new panic. "NO! I DIDN'T PUT THEM IN YET? DAMN IT!"
Sirius sighed heavily, the weight of the situation etched across his face. After a moment of thought, he made a difficult decision. "Our top priority is to calm him down before things spiral further out of control and the children are endangered," he said gravely.
He stepped back slightly, freeing himself from Fortuna's grip. Taking a deep breath, he focused intently on Hadrian, as if trying to pierce through the chaos in his mind.
"There are many forms of magic, as you're surely aware," he began, his voice measured. Fortuna nodded, inviting him to elaborate. "Transfiguration, charms, and the like are typical examples. But some wizards, through... unconventional means, manage to grasp what's called a concept," he explained, his gaze bright with intellectual fervour.
Fortuna raised a curious eyebrow, prompting Sirius to continue. "Before you ask, it was Hadrian himself who explained this to me during our many conversations about Harry."
The bounty hunter nodded, the explanation seeming to fit. Sirius, undeterred by her reserved reaction, went on. "Mastering a concept allows a wizard to harness facets of magic that are unimaginable. However…"
He glanced at Hadrian, whose magical outburst was beginning to subside. "This power comes at a price. Harry, through those terrible artefacts, manipulates a deadly form of magic. In return, he suffers fits of uncontrollable rage and violence, often unintentionally causing harm."
Fortuna's eyes widened as pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.
"As you've likely noticed, Hadrian has a particular affinity for temporal magic. He's wielded it for far longer than Harry. But he, too, pays a steep price…" Sirius trailed off, raising his wand to project a protective shield between them and Hadrian, just in case.
"A steep price… Don't tell me…" Fortuna began, horror dawning on her face.
"Unfortunately, it's exactly what you're thinking," Sirius confirmed, his voice filled with compassion. "When he wields this immense power, he's overwhelmed by visions that blur the line between reality and illusion. He can see the future, the past, even the wildest dreams... and he can't tell what's real."
Fortuna's heart clenched. She had always known Hadrian bore a heavy burden, but she had never imagined the depth of his suffering.
"He told me he sees everything and anything. Humanity's worst nightmares, tragic destinies, the deaths of those he loves…"
Fortuna nodded slowly, her gaze shifting to Hadrian, who lay sprawled on the floor, drenched in sweat.
"I didn't prepare for this..." he murmured weakly, his voice trembling. "I didn't know..." Then, as if speaking to himself, he added: "Of course I knew! I'd set up safeguards!"
Finally, he let out a plaintive cry before the ghostly clock vanished, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.
Fortuna and Sirius rushed to his side, helping him to his feet. They had never seen him so vulnerable. The great Hadrian Potter, the most wanted man in the British wizarding world, suddenly appeared as fragile as a child—a sight Fortuna hoped never to see again.
"I'm sorry for putting you through that," he murmured, his voice hoarse.
"Don't worry about it. I've already sent word to the children via Patronus," Sirius reassured him, conjuring a chair with his wand.
Hadrian collapsed onto it, trying to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body ached. "It's just magical exhaustion," he explained, trying to ease their worry. "Just give me a moment to recover."
"And before you scold me, Fortuna, I'm truly sorry. I shouldn't have kept this from you. But if we win this war, I won't have to rely on temporal magic as much, and these visions will fade. So telling you now, when we're so close to victory…"
The bounty hunter grumbled, clearly upset that Hadrian had hidden such a critical part of his life. But she decided to set aside her anger and comfort him. She leaned in and kissed him gently, massaging his tense shoulders.
"Did you have one of those visions where you were reinforcing the Greengrass protections and thought it was real?" she asked softly.
Hadrian nodded, his eyes closed. "Exactly." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Years ago, I set up a system that would automatically transport me to Alexander if the Greengrass family was attacked. But the Nott curse disrupted everything. I had to disable the protections temporarily, and I completely forgot to reactivate them." He sighed, the weight of guilt pressing on him.
"Then, a few days ago, I had another vision. I saw myself strengthening the Greengrass protections and giving them Portkeys. I was so convinced it was real that I forgot it was just a projection of my mind."
Fortuna lowered her gaze, nearly overwhelmed by emotion. "That's terrible. You can't tell the difference between reality and illusion?" she asked, her voice thick with worry.
Hadrian nodded slowly, sorrow clouding his eyes. "Given that I never know if what I see has happened, will happen, or will never happen, it's impossible for me to tell. These visions imprint themselves in my mind as if they were real memories. Honestly, this conversation could very well just be a hallucination," he admitted with bitter irony.
Fortuna lightly smacked his shoulder, a gesture both tender and exasperated. "Alright, alright! It's not a vision," he conceded, a faint smile crossing his lips under her dark glare.
"Do I look like a vision now?" she grumbled, chuckling softly. Even Sirius couldn't help but smile, easing the tension in the room.
For a few moments, they basked in the brief reprieve, knowing the threat hadn't been fully neutralised but relishing a chance to breathe. Once Hadrian had regained some of his strength, he sprang to his feet. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed outside.
"Aurors! Hadrian Potter, you're surrounded! Come out with your hands up and do not resist!"
Fortuna and Sirius exchanged worried glances, wands ready. But Hadrian stopped them with a gesture.
"Don't worry. I have a plan," he said with an enigmatic smile.
He raised his wand, casting powerful concealment charms over Fortuna and Sirius, rendering them invisible to the Aurors. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he Apparated, disappearing instantly with his two companions.
08/08/1995, 15H03, Greengrass Manor, England:
Daphne shifted slightly in Harry's arms, seeking refuge from the overwhelming emotions surging through her. They had retreated to her room, seeking solace in its intimacy to try and collect their thoughts.
"I thought it was the end," she confessed, her voice trembling. Her mind refused to process the violence of the events they had just endured.
Harry pulled her closer, as if shielding her from the outside world. He had taken lives that day, yet he felt no remorse. Was that normal? Whether it was a side effect of the death magic he wielded or a profound shift in his personality, he didn't know—and he didn't dwell on it. Those monsters had tortured Daphne and her family, and he had acted in order to protect them. That was all that mattered to him.
"I'm here. It's over now. Uncle Hadrian will find a way to help your mother, I promise you."
He knew his uncle was overwhelmed with responsibilities. Everyone depended on him. Hadrian had become the pillar of their world, carrying the weight of everyone's hopes. But mentioning his name seemed to soothe Daphne. Harry understood that invoking his uncle's name acted like a talisman, instilling a sense of security.
Still, he realised it was only a deferral of her fears. By invoking Hadrian, he was merely shifting the burden of her worries onto his uncle's shoulders.
"Your father and sister are safe at the Potter manor, and your mother will be found soon. Everything will be alright, I promise," he repeated gently, trying to assure her of his unwavering love.
He could have said that he would handle everything himself. However, he knew that wouldn't ease the Slytherin's heart. Instead of only worrying about her mother, she would also start worrying about him.
Daphne, still nestled against him, took a deep breath. "You're right. It'll be okay," she murmured, her voice regaining a hint of strength.
Sensing the moment, Harry decided to broach a delicate subject. "Daphne... about us…" But he was interrupted by the blonde.
"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing red. He realised she had anticipated this conversation and was nervous.
He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her gently. "I'm the one who should apologise. This power... as useful as it is, it made me lose sight of what really matters: the reason I'm fighting."
Seeing her puzzled expression, he continued, "I knew I needed power to defeat Voldemort, but in my blindness, I didn't consider the consequences of my actions. I didn't think about you, about how you might feel. And for that, I'm truly sorry."
Daphne looked at him for a moment, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Hey!" Harry exclaimed, surprised by her reaction. She burst out laughing, quickly composing herself. "Forgive me," she murmured, her eyes shining with affection. "I'm just glad to know I wasn't the only one bracing for this conversation."
She looked up at him, her gaze intense. "I owe you an apology, too. You're going to face Voldemort, and I know how monumental that task is. The attacks keep increasing, families are being torn apart… And I had the audacity to call you selfish." She rested her head on his chest, a sigh escaping her lips. "The selfish one is me. I wanted to keep you all to myself, even if it meant putting innocents at risk."
Harry tightened his embrace, understanding her inner turmoil perfectly. He had felt the same guilt himself. They remained like that for a few moments, united in their pain and love. Time passed, and Daphne's breathing softened in Harry's arms, the tranquil atmosphere finally helping her relax.
"When this war is over, we'll finally be able to live in peace…" Harry began, but his words were cut off by a dull thud that echoed through the manor. He immediately recognized his uncle's magical signature. Something was wrong. He sprang to his feet, wand in hand.
*BOOM*
Sirius's Patronus appeared, its ethereal body shimmering faintly. The spectral dog circled the room before settling in front of Harry.
"Your uncle is having an episode. Don't worry, and whatever you do, stay where you are," the floating animal instructed.
The young Gryffindor stared at the door with concern but ultimately held back. "I'll handle it," Sirius's voice repeated gravely before the Patronus vanished.
Harry relaxed slightly, though unease lingered. What could have happened for his uncle to lose control like this?
He turned to Daphne, ready to reassure her, only to find her fast asleep.
How can she sleep at a time like this? he thought, amused despite himself.
Careful not to wake her, he gently laid her down on the bed and draped a blanket over her.
For the next few minutes, he sat listening intently to the sounds from the rest of the manor. He could feel Hadrian's magic fluctuating, then gradually weakening. "Well done, Sirius," he murmured. He vowed to ask his godfather what had happened as soon as he could. But for now, his priority was watching over Daphne.
"Aurors! Hadrian Potter, you're surrounded! Come out with your hands up and do not resist!"
The crash of voices and movement made Harry whip his head toward the window. He knew his uncle was a wanted man, but he was surprised the Aurors would dare approach the manor. His uncle was a force of nature, and they were well aware of that.
The situation was tense, each passing second making it more so.
Damn it! What should I do?! Harry thought, adrenaline surging through him. A decision struck him with unexpected clarity. He raised his wand and unleashed a flurry of protective spells on the walls, windows, and door of the room. Then, without hesitation, he apparated outside, vanishing in a flash of light.
He knew full well that apparating without a licence was strictly forbidden, but he didn't care. He wasn't about to let anyone capture Hadrian Potter—not if he had anything to say about it.
08/08/1995, 15H34, Greengrass Manor, England:
Hadrian appeared beside Fortuna and Sirius, both still concealed under Disillusionment Charms. No sooner had his feet touched the ground than a barrage of spells hurtled toward him from his adversaries. With a confident flick of his wand, he conjured a powerful shield that effortlessly deflected every attack.
His eyes glowed faintly, and his magical aura seemed to freeze the very air around them. At that moment, Harry materialised at his side.
"Uncle Hadrian!" the young Gryffindor exclaimed, gripping his wand tightly.
"Bingo," murmured Hadrian, his gaze fixed on the forearms of his attackers.
"Fortuna, Sirius, Harry, let me handle this. I'll take care of everything and return with Ophelia," he said calmly, slipping his wand into one of Fortuna's pockets with a subtle movement.
"For the last time, Hadrian Potter, you are under arrest for murder! Drop your wand and surrender!" shouted two Aurors he didn't recognize.
Harry lowered his wand, his heart racing. He didn't fully understand the situation but trusted his uncle implicitly.
"Here's my wand," Hadrian declared, tossing what appeared to be his wand at the feet of the group.
In front of the house, nearly thirty witches and wizards, all clad in the standard uniforms of the Auror Corps, had their wands trained on him.
However, as Harry scrutinised the scene more closely, doubts crept into his mind. An operation of this magnitude would typically require the Ministry's finest agents. Yet there was no sign of Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, or Amelia Bones.
Something was off. He was sure of it.
"Oh, I see… I understand," murmured Sirius quietly behind them.
Still perplexed, Harry watched in growing alarm as his uncle stepped forward, extending his wrists to the Aurors, who wasted no time binding them with magical restraints.
"Return to the manor and take Daphne to our safe house, Harry. From now on, all we can do is hope," Fortuna sighed, her voice heavy with fatigue and frustration.
"Alright… alright," the young wizard agreed reluctantly, heading back toward the house. Given everything that had just transpired, he didn't want to leave the Slytherin alone. With luck, Sirius might provide the answers he so desperately sought.
In the distance, Hadrian vanished with the Aurors, his steps hindered by the chains. Yet, unlike a typical prisoner, he wore a wide, almost triumphant smile on his face.
'You're such fools. It's as if you never learn from your mistakes,' the bounty hunter thought to himself as he allowed himself to be taken. Hadn't he already demonstrated that no one—and nothing—could hold him? And yet, rather than eliminate him outright, they had chosen to arrest him.
The game was far from over.
08/10/1995, 04H12, Malfoy Manor, England:
Once again, Hadrian awoke in a cell—not a Ministry holding cell, but one in Malfoy Manor.
The real Aurors had no way of knowing where he was. They couldn't track him, and the impenetrable wards surrounding his own manor ensured that no one could approach without detection. No tracker could have been placed on him.
Other than the Greengrass family, his team members, and his close relatives, no one knew his exact location at the time of his "arrest."
Well, almost no one. Only the Death Eaters who had escaped knew… and they had returned for him.
He had a solid idea of what had transpired. Voldemort had been absent during his arrival at Greengrass Manor. The Dark Lord had missed his intervention and Alexander's rescue. Voldemort's followers knew Ophelia couldn't provide the information her husband possessed.
Still, they couldn't attack him outright. Hadrian would crush them without effort, even if he were alone. And with Fortuna, Sirius, and Harry Potter by his side, he was practically unstoppable.
For those Death Eaters, admitting their failure to extract information from Alexander—or their retreat in the face of Hadrian Potter—would have been a death sentence.
It was well known that Hadrian targeted only dark wizards. That left them with a single option: impersonate Aurors and attempt to arrest him. If he fought back, public opinion would turn against him for attacking Ministry officials. If he fled, he would leave Greengrass Manor at Voldemort's mercy. And if he allowed himself to be captured, the masterminds behind this plot would undoubtedly reap rewards.
Such an elaborate trap required significant time and effort. From the moment they arrived, Hadrian had seen through the ruse. The absence of familiar Aurors and the Dark Marks on the attackers' forearm left no doubt in his mind.
His best guess was that this group had acted independently of Voldemort, hoping to curry favour with their master. And Hadrian intended to exploit that.
Two scenarios had seemed possible: either he would be taken to Ministry cells, which he could escape with ease, or he would be brought to the dungeons of Malfoy Manor—a location he'd forgotten due to the Fidelius Charm concealing it.
Luckily for him, it was the latter. This gave him direct access to Voldemort's base and brought him closer to Ophelia than he ever could have managed on his own.
He was bound to a bare wall by chains that suppressed his magic. The only scrap of clothing he wore was a tattered piece of white fabric that had once been his pants.
The room was stark, with nothing but two black pillars supporting the ceiling. No furniture, no amenities. Even Azkaban cells offered a bed and a toilet.
Not that they'd let me sleep anyway, he thought wryly, stretching his aching limbs.
Fortunately, Voldemort had been too preoccupied since the attack on the Greengrass family to personally torment him. So far, he had escaped the wrath of an enraged Dark Lord.
It's only a matter of hours before he returns. I need to get out before that happens, Hadrian mused.
Voldemort was aware of his capture; his minions had informed him instantly via the Dark Mark. But the bounty hunter knew the Dark Lord was tied up elsewhere and couldn't come back immediately.
Once again, his arrogance will be his undoing. He assumes his methods can contain me simply because he designed them… What a fool, the time traveller sighed inwardly.
So far, he had endured the tortures inflicted by Voldemort's followers without breaking. Between sessions, he had made biting remarks—not just to mock them, though that was satisfying, but to gather information.
He had learned that Ophelia was also being held in the manor. He had heard her screams and overheard one of his captors boasting about the "pretty woman in Cell 13" he planned to "enjoy." Not that Hadrian would ever let that happen.
He had also deduced the manor's current location. If he escaped, Voldemort would likely relocate. But secure hiding spots were becoming scarce in England.
If the Dark Lord was forced to flee the country, coordinating his attacks would become far more difficult, weakening their effectiveness.
Additionally, Hadrian noted the diverse backgrounds of Voldemort's followers: Russians, Spaniards, French, werewolves, vampires… many of whom Hadrian had faced in his travels.
He's recruiting my enemies... I suppose the enemy of my enemy is my friend, Hadrian thought with a smirk, amused by Voldemort's desperation. Even in his own time, he had never seen the Dark Lord so troubled. The thought warmed his heart more than he cared to admit.
This situation didn't surprise him. He had made plenty of enemies over the years, and he always knew they would come for him eventually. But he didn't care. In the end, they would all fall—whether by his hand or Harry's.
Hadrian hadn't heard a sound in nearly an hour. Since their arrival, he and Ophelia had been tortured in turns. Why? He wasn't sure. As for Ophelia, he feared the worst. He had one advantage she lacked.
The Death Eaters had orders not to kill him. Voldemort wanted him alive for a personal reckoning. But what did they hope to extract from her?
Perhaps information about Daphne? Maybe they think they can get to Harry through her, he speculated, a grimace of disgust crossing his face.
Or perhaps they simply enjoyed causing pain. He wouldn't put it past those mindless brutes.
"Potter! Still standing?" growled McNair, stomping into the cell.
"Of course! I'm not that tired," Hadrian replied mockingly, despite the searing pain wracking his body. "And you? Pulling an all-nighter?"
McNair didn't appreciate the quip and cast a Cruciatus Curse, making Hadrian writhe in his chains. He stifled a scream, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
If his theory was correct, and McNair was the only one awake, this was the perfect opportunity to escape.
"Not so chatty now," sneered McNair, raising his wand for another curse. But just as he began the incantation—
*BOOM*
Hadrian channelled all his energy to overload the magical chains, shattering them in a violent explosion. The force blew a hole in the wall behind him and sent McNair flying.
The noise would inevitably attract other Death Eaters. Hadrian had to move quickly, especially since the effort had drained his magical core further.
Reaching to his thigh, he pulled out a concealed revolver hidden beneath layers of enchantments.
His wand, being magical, was easier to detect. The gun, however, was completely neutral and bypassed magical detection systems. It was his ace in the hole.
"Goodnight, McNair," Hadrian said, smirking as he fired. The bullet struck true, shattering the man's skull.
The gunshot echoed in the silence, momentarily deafening him. He cast a wandless spell to regain his bearings.
He then removed the remaining chain fragments embedded in his arms, relishing the sensation of his magic flowing freely through his muscles once more.
Alone, deep in enemy territory, and nearly out of magical reserves, Hadrian Potter smirked.
"Perfect. What could possibly go wrong?" he muttered sarcastically
Lately, the plans Hadrian devised had been making less and less sense. Distinguishing illusion from reality had become a struggle, the visions he experienced blurring that fragile boundary.
He was tired. Everything he had endured since his return—the weight of responsibilities on his shoulders, the daily battles where death loomed ever-present—had drained him of the strength to keep fighting.
It was this exhaustion that had prompted him to ask Fortuna for a promise: that they would step away once the war against Voldemort was over. Harry was ready. He didn't yet match Hadrian's power but was steadily progressing. For the older man, it was only a matter of time before Harry surpassed him.
Lately, Hadrian had begun to make small mistakes. For someone of his calibre, however, even a "small mistake" could result in the deaths of countless innocents.
Sighing once more, he raised his hand toward the tiny window in his cell. He focused his magic into his eyes, pushing them to their limits to locate his wand.
"Found it!" he whispered, casting one of the most powerful Accio spells in magical history—silently and without a wand. He raised his hand, grimacing from the lingering pain in his body.
He held his position for several moments, awaiting its arrival.
Fortunately, the spell worked. Drained from the immense magic power he'd channelled, Hadrian collapsed to the ground, his revolver in one hand and his wand in the other.
'Now to get Ophelia out of here... with my reserves nearly depleted… and without getting killed along the way… Easy!' he thought with a tired smile.
Forcing himself to his feet, he holstered his gun and lit his wand to illuminate his path. Stepping over McNair's lifeless body, he exited the cell, aware that reinforcements could arrive at any moment.
He made his way down the dimly lit corridor, its design eerily reminiscent of Azkaban. On either side were numbered cells. "Number 9… 10… 12… 13, there it is," he muttered as he stopped in front of the door.
Pointing his wand at the lock, he cast a silent unlocking spell, careful to make as little noise as possible. After glancing left and right to ensure no guards were nearby, he slipped inside. His gaze immediately fell on Ophelia, chained to the wall in a manner disturbingly similar to how he had been moments earlier.
"Please, I don't have anything to tell you…" she murmured weakly as she saw Hadrian approach.
She had been tortured—it was evident. Like him, her torso was bare, with only a torn scrap of fabric covering her lower body. Her skin bore marks of blows, burns, and magical wounds.
"Ophelia… It's me!" Hadrian whispered as he began unfastening her chains. She flinched at the sound of his voice, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
"H-Hadrian? But h-how?" she stammered, unable to understand his presence.
"Don't ask questions," he replied, conjuring clothes for both of them with a quick flick of his wand.
She was trembling—was it from cold, fear, or pain? He wasn't sure. But one question gnawed at him. "Ophelia… Did they…?"
Understanding his implication, she shook her head vehemently, leaning against his taller frame for support. "M-McNair came to see me. He said he was waiting until morning to… How did he put it? 'Break me?'" she spat, her fists clenching with fury.
Hadrian exhaled in relief. She had been tortured, but the worst had been avoided. He had arrived just in time.
"I don't even want to know how you got here…" she sighed, the mage's exploits seeming to defy all logic.
"Don't worry about it. Climb onto my back and save your strength. Things are about to get rough!" he instructed as a violent explosion rocked the manor.
08/10/1995, 04H36, Malfoy Manor, England:
Sirius, wand at the ready, scanning the horizon, asked again, "Do we attack now, Fortuna?"
The young witch, her gaze fixed on the invisible stronghold ahead, nodded in agreement before unleashing a crackling storm of lightning upon the area.
When Hadrian had been taken, they had all been certain he had a plan in mind. As soon as the "Aurors" had left, Sirius had rushed to the Ministry to inspect the holding cells, while Fortuna ensured the safety of those at Greengrass Manor by relocating them to the Potters' safe house.
A few hours later, Sirius confirmed their suspicions: Hadrian hadn't been incarcerated at the Ministry. Either he had been sent to Azkaban—a possibility they quickly ruled out—or he was in the stronghold of the Dark Lord himself. If it was the latter, Hadrian was likely trying to locate Ophelia Greengrass.
Fortuna, however, had a hunch of her own. She wouldn't let Hadrian face these dangers alone. Had he warned her about the risks? It didn't matter. She would find him alive, even if it meant facing Voldemort himself.
"That tracking spell was a stroke of brilliance…" Sirius murmured in admiration.
Fortuna had placed a tracking charm on Hadrian's wand, allowing her to pinpoint his location as soon as he summoned it. Luckily, the plan had worked, bringing them to this place… or so it seemed. Before them lay only empty space—concealed, no doubt, by a Fidelius Charm. The stronghold was invisible to anyone who didn't know its secret. Still, they could create chaos in the surrounding area, distract the Death Eaters, and perhaps even catch them off guard.
"You're not worried you might accidentally hurt Hadrian?" Sirius asked, horrified by the destructive storm she had conjured.
"It would be a tragedy," she replied, her voice distant, her expression void of emotion.
Sirius shivered. This woman was formidable. Yet he trusted Hadrian completely. He was confident he would emerge unscathed.
The assault continued, gradually draining their magical reserves. Suddenly, they felt two powerful auras clash—an unmistakable sign that the Dark Lord had arrived. Moments later, Hadrian appeared, carrying Ophelia on his back. He apparated in front of them, collapsing to his knees in exhaustion.
"I don't have enough strength left to apparate both of us to Potter manor," he shouted. "One of you takes me, the other takes Ophelia. Quick!"
A colossal serpent of fire struck the ground nearby, shaking the earth and sending waves of heat rippling through the air.
Without hesitation, Fortuna grabbed Hadrian and vanished in a flash, leaving Sirius to do the same with Ophelia.
Later, at the Potters' manor, Hadrian sat slumped in a chair, his magical reserves completely depleted.
What a vacation, he thought wryly, the weight of exhaustion pulling at him.
Elsewhere in the manor, Harry sat at his desk, staring at an open book. He let out a long sigh. The final stretch. Soon, this will all be over…
"Will we finally know peace, Uncle Hadrian?" he murmured, his eyes drifting to his sleeping girlfriend on the bed nearby.