Disclaimer: As of today, I am the... owner of nothing. JK Rowling's the owner of Harry Potter.
Guest: I always love the "obliviate that, kill this". Like sure, Harry Potter would have been shorter if he obliviated and killed everyone that doesn't do what he wants. So no, at that point he didn't want to do a literal crime + didn't knew exactly how horrible that slip of information would be.
Drag7: For your first review, I quite agree with some points you mentionned. I think that's something I may modify once the story is finished. We'll see. Still, the way they act, in the world they are, is coherent. So let's agree to disagree on that. For your second review,he isn't leaving it there, he simply has no damn idea how to remove it without using the killing curse. And for the malnutrition... well, it's taken care of later. Then, for the way they act, you seem to forgot that not all adults are extremely mature (even in the real books, when you see how Snape acts for example... or Fudge... or Malfoy... and I can continue for a long time), and not all kids are acting like... kids. Finally, for your last review, I swear I almost laughed. Here I got many people complaining about how slow sometime the story may be, with too much information, and now you say I'm skipping too much. To be honest, I'm lost hahaha. But well, again, it's difficult to know the truth when each reader will have his own opinion, so for now I'll keep mine. Thank you for reading until where you stopped, and take care !
Aoengus113: Hey ! Well, thanks a lot. I'm beyond happy to read that at least someone likes what I tried my best to write: a character that has flaws. Thanks for reviewing, I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story until the end. Take care, and have a great day ! (Oh and about the lasting damages on Hadrian from the attack... well, you'll have your answer in this chapter and the next one)
blcoachmac: Hey ! Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you like the story. Alexander posing as Dolohov might have been more obvious than what I tought... Uh anyway, that didn't prevent you to enjoy the chapter, so that's cool I guess. Take care, and have a good day ! (For Umbitch and Fudge, their time will come don't worry. And for the vow... well, first I think Harry traumatised them, and then they could try to guide someone else, but if they wish harm on Harry, then...)
CaskettFan5: Hey ! So to explain... Well that's a damn good question. No, in fact they didn't know if someone would really come. they had no insight in Voldemort's troups, and only prayed that the party would attract an important Deatheater. So Alexander, not being a hundred percent sure of who was coming, or if anyone was coming, added to Hadrian that went to check on Harry instead of running to him lead to that situation. Anyway, thanks for reviewing again, take care and have a great day !
Broadsky: Thank you !
10/27/1994, 20H11, Novosibirsk, Russia:
He then raised his head towards Dolohov who pointed his wand at Ghost's throat.
"Farewell, Hadrian Potter," said the experienced Dark wizard before launching a powerful cutting spell at the man at his feet.
The group watched in horror as Hadrian was murdered by Alexander, still disguised as Antonin Dolohov. The head of the Potter family had fought with rare ferocity, taking down Greyback and many of Voldemort's henchmen with him.
This confrontation helped Harry better understand Bellatrix Lestrange's condition on the night of the Third Task. The wounds inflicted by his uncle had yet to heal. He had found it strange that the woman had shown no reaction to the fight between him and her master.
Fortuna, meanwhile, gazed at the man she loved with boundless admiration, indifferent to his ultimate defeat. All that mattered to her was that he was still alive. His skill, his strength... He possessed all the qualities she aspired to.
Now, she was convinced: she would find him again, and together, they would be invincible.
They then saw Voldemort vanish as he apparated, leaving Dolohov alone beside Hadrian's "lifeless" body.
Suddenly a faint voice echoed: "A little help here?" asked the time traveller.
Alexander, ensuring the Dark Lord was no longer nearby, knelt down and began administering first aid to his wounded friend. He had feared that his spell might not have seemed real enough to Voldemort, but he had evidently succeeded in deceiving one of the most powerful wizards of his time.
"You're insane! Facing an army out in the open? What were you thinking? You could have escaped countless times!"
Hadrian, his smile made grotesque by the wound on his cheek, raised his hand weakly to reassure his undercover ally.
"Now, my friend, I can work in the shadows. The day will come when you must leave your post, and I will have to return to the Potter Manor. But for now, we must weaken him. Harry isn't strong enough yet to take him on."
The spy clenched his fists. "Do you realise that if I hadn't been assigned to this mission, you'd be dead?" Hadrian averted his gaze. He had nothing to say and knew that Providence had saved him by placing Alexander in his path.
Seeing that his words had struck his friend, Alexander continued tending to his leg, effectively stopping the bleeding. After assessing the rest of his injuries, he added, "And Harry? Are you going to leave him alone?" he asked.
Hadrian nodded, managing to sit up. "He's trained hard... very hard. He'll manage until we return. He can't rely on me forever. I don't know how much longer I can keep going like this, and he has to be ready to take my place. I trust him," the time traveller stated firmly.
Hadrian would always be there for the one he sees as a son. But he didn't want him to become dependent on him. So, he had to ensure that Harry could fend for himself.
The time traveller's words, though comforting to Harry, also plunged him into deep melancholy over the responsibilities awaiting him.
Still, he couldn't back down. He had been prepared for this.
He felt Daphne's hand squeeze his, showing her concern, and then refocused on the scene.
Alexander finished his first aid and stepped back. "Hadrian... What do you intend to do about Fortuna? That woman is in love with you... Your death could have disastrous consequences..."
Harry saw his uncle's face tense. His eyes, hollow, seemed lost in the labyrinth of past or future memories. He had heard of this look before, the one seen in traumatised soldiers. Was that what this was? He had no idea. But it sent shivers down his spine.
The Greengrass patriarch, unaware of the effect his words were having, continued, much to the dismay of Fortuna, whose face flushed with embarrassment.
"With how much she loves you... She's capable of anything. Undertaking a dangerous mission... or even seeking out Voldemort... perhaps even—"
Suddenly, Hadrian sharply turned his head toward Alexander. His eyes narrowed as his strength slowly returned. "What do you want me to give her, Alexander?" he asked in a grave voice. Without waiting for a reply, he continued.
"Fortuna is a remarkable woman, and I probably love her as much as she loves me... But you've seen what happens to those I love," he said coldly.
Under everyone's stunned gaze, he stood up and, with a snap of his fingers, summoned his wand. He then conjured a wooden leg to replace his mutilated one and fixed Alexander with a blank stare.
"That is the curse of the powerful. When they can't take you down, they go after your loved ones. Those cowards have no damn honour!" he shouted, madness gleaming in his eyes. "Those I've loved..." he muttered, limping toward a Death Eater's corpse. "My parents… My wife… My own children!" His eyes blazed as the storm grew louder.
No one had ever seen him like this. Even Alexander, in his memory, seemed terrified for a moment, as if he had forgotten who stood before him.
"They took everything from me, Alexander, EVERYTHING!" he roared, his voice echoing through the deserted town.
He struggled forward toward Daphne's father and placed a hand on his shoulder, his anger gradually subsiding. "If my death ensures their survival, then I'll die as many times as it takes," he declared.
He raised his eyes to the sky, then stepped back and created a Portkey.
"I know a healer who can take care of me without asking questions. Return to Voldemort as quickly as possible before he grows suspicious. We'll stay in contact. See you soon, Alexander."
A lightning bolt struck where Hadrian stood, and his Portkey activated. The next moment, he was gone, leaving Alexander alone in the rain.
"We'll make it," the spy murmured before disapparating as well, bracing himself for the torture the Dark Lord would inflict upon him once he reported the number of dead.
Then the memory faded once again.
?/?/?, ?H?, ?, ?:
They returned to the ruins of the forgotten building, a heavy silence falling over them like a shroud. The smoking remnants of the battle bore witness to the intensity of the clashes. All they were left with were terror and dread.
Ophelia, Astoria, and Daphne, their faces pale and eyes shadowed, gathered together. Worry gnawed at them. How could Harry ever hope to defeat such an opponent? Even Hadrian, whom they had always considered invincible, had fallen. The horror of war had gripped them, revealing the chasm between their illusions and reality.
The life of a spy, as Alexander described it, was an unspeakable torment. Tortured, forced to commit the unthinkable, he resembled only a shadow of his former self. Astoria, who had delved into the depths of the Dark Lord's soul, was particularly shaken. The images of cruelty and despair she had seen haunted her day and night. She sought refuge in her mother's arms, seeking an illusory comfort.
The revelations of that day had inflicted deep wounds on the Greengrass sisters, scars that would mark their souls for a long time. They had never been naive enough to believe that the wizarding world was all joy and light. But the horror of the battles, the pain of loss, the anxiety... all of these, at their young age, were beginning to overwhelm them.
Sirius, for his part, was overcome with admiration mixed with respect. Hadrian had faced an army alone, sacrificing his life to keep all of Harry's enemies at bay. He now understood who had "given" Rita Skeeter and the former Death Eaters a one-way trip, exposing the extent of the corruption that had rotted the Ministry.
"You're a great man, Hadrian," he murmured to himself, eyes fixed on the ruins. James had a lot of courage, but he lacked strength. Sirius himself had often succumbed to his emotions, leading to terrible mistakes. But Hadrian possessed all the qualities they had lacked.
However, the wizard's last words had shaken him. Hadrian had been married, a father? He knew nothing of that part of his life. He now understood the depth of the hatred Hadrian harboured for the dark forces. Pettigrew, by killing his best friend, had shattered a part of him. So, the loss of his own family must have been a gaping wound.
Harry, meanwhile, was torn by conflicting feelings. He blamed himself for his powerlessness and for Hadrian's disappearance. Yet he couldn't help but admire the strength and intelligence of his mentor.
Hadrian had always been one step ahead of his enemies. And now, Harry understood why he advocated for strength: he had stared into the abyss and returned, forged by the trial.
Harry was unaware that his uncle had once built a family across the Atlantic. Since embarking on his quest for power, his confidence had solidified, but he had neglected a crucial aspect: the vulnerability of those he cherished.
Daphne had already endured an assassination attempt by Malfoy and Nott. Astoria had recently lain in a deep coma, and his own uncle was forced to feign his death to protect them all from the shadows.
He needed to become even more powerful. It was no longer an option but an urgent necessity. He aspired to such strength that no misfortune could ever touch him. This thirst for power, fueled by the fear of losing those he loved, consumed him from within.
However, he wasn't the only one feeling such helplessness. Fortuna clenched her fists, her heart pounding violently. The love she felt for Hadrian, though confessed, was now severely tested. Seeing him like this, vulnerable, shook her convictions. She remembered the light in his eyes when he spoke of his plans, his desire to protect the world. But today, that light seemed dimmed. She had seen only hatred and anger.
She knew he had lost his family, but he had never spoken of the tragedy in detail. Until today. Now, she knew the truth. This revelation plunged her into deep sadness. She understood better the reasons driving him to act as he did, but it didn't make her pain any less intense.
She had to find him. The bounty hunter couldn't abandon him. Hadrian aimed to control the world to protect it, but who would protect Hadrian himself?
'I don't care what you think. Wait for me, Hadrian Potter,' she thought, an electric aura crackling around her, drawing all eyes.
"I believe each of you feels things differently. Fortuna Moon, if you are here, then I'm sorry for what you've seen. But please, forgive him. And help him. He'll never admit it, but he needs you. The shell he's built isn't impenetrable, and this latest event is proof of that. I trust each of you who's listening to me today," Alexander declared, looking more exhausted than ever.
He stood and stared into the void. "Even the most powerful can waver, as you've seen. So take care of yourselves," he continued, his voice tinged with unusual melancholy.
"Ophelia, Daphne... Astoria," he murmured, addressing his family. "I regret not being there for you, for leaving you in the shadows. My role as a spy is nearing its end. The Dark Lord will want to interrogate me and search my mind. And I cannot allow that. So... I hope that when I return, you'll find it in yourselves to forgive me... forgive us. Take care of yourselves. I love you."
He turned, staring at the ground at his feet, and added, "Fortuna Moon... Hadrian loves you. He loves you more than he's willing to admit. But his past and his fears keep him from being honest with himself. So don't doubt, and be honest with him. Your presence can only benefit him."
The woman nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. She felt that Hadrian needed her more than ever. Then, as the group pondered what would come next, they were sent back to the living room of Potter Manor.
07/02/1995, 16H15, Potter Manor, England:
"Forgive me, but I firmly believe I have information that may interest you," Astoria confessed in a hesitant voice.
After witnessing Alexander's memories, everyone had retreated to their own space. Ophelia had isolated herself with Fortuna in Hadrian's office. As for Sirius, he had left the manor and disappeared. If Harry had to guess, he suspected Sirius was hiding in a bar somewhere, likely drowning his sorrow in alcohol.
To be honest, Harry understood. The images they had just witnessed were so violent that it was difficult to come out unscathed.
Harry, Astoria, and Daphne, on the other hand, had stayed in the dining room to talk. The youngest of the sisters had remained silent until now, allowing her elders to question her about what was troubling her.
"First of all, I want to say how happy I am to have you in the family now, Harry," she beamed at him with a radiant smile, as if Christmas had come early. For a moment, they forgot all they had seen and blushed.
"Astoria, stop your extravagance! We're not even married yet! Let's not get ahead of ourselves..." her sister scolded her with a dark look, though she herself was clearly flustered.
She then turned to Harry. "Excuse her insolence. She's always been prone to getting carried away, you know that."
The Gryffindor simply smiled at his beloved, which slightly annoyed her. But before she could react, he spoke up. "Astoria, what did you want to talk to us about?"
The young girl seemed to regain her composure, and the atmosphere grew more tense. "You remember the circumstances under which I fell into a coma, don't you?" she began, her face turning red. She lowered her eyes, as the subject was particularly delicate to discuss. "I don't know exactly what happened with that diary, although Daphne gave me a pretty detailed explanation. But to put it simply, ever since I've been in a coma, I've had visions of what was going on in You-Know-Who's mind..."
Daphne and Harry were left speechless, stunned. Astoria had spent nearly two years trapped in the thoughts of the Dark Lord? No, it was unthinkable!
"I suppose it's because of the close connection between the diary and You-Know-Who himself. But because of that, I was forced... to see certain things," she confessed, tears welling up in her eyes.
Daphne moved closer to her sister and embraced her, remaining silent as she let her speak. "I saw the attack on your uncle, Harry... I saw what our father endured when You-Know-Who was angry... And most of all, I saw that night in the cemetery," she revealed.
Harry's eyes widened. The young girl had witnessed atrocities that no child should ever endure. "That night, Harry... I saw you fight... And more importantly, I saw him."
The Gryffindor took a deep breath, already anticipating the revelation but eager for the confirmation. "Your uncle! He was there. He attacked You-Know-Who in the cemetery, and they fought. The Dark Lord didn't fall, but he came out of it gravely wounded."
This information was of utmost importance. Harry and Daphne instantly grasped its significance. Not only did it buy them some extra time before a potential new offensive, but it also meant that Hadrian Potter had stepped out of the shadows.
If Voldemort had resurfaced and Hadrian had ceased hiding, then the war had truly begun.
Harry retreated to a corner of the room, his mind already racing, formulating new training plans. A cold aura emanated from him, making the two other occupants of the dining room uncomfortable.
"Go join Mum, Astoria. I need to talk to Harry. I won't be long, don't worry," Daphne reassured her, kissing her sister. Astoria nodded and left the room, casting a final worried glance at the Boy Who Lived.
Once alone, Harry turned to Daphne, staring at her intensely.
"What's going on, Daph?" he asked. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes shimmering with a strange gleam, and he radiated a threatening aura, similar to that of a Dementor.
And for the first time since she had known him, Daphne felt a genuine fear of Harry.
"Harry," she called, her voice filled with concern. "You're scaring me. What is this magic? It's not yours, don't take me for a fool."
The Gryffindor gazed at her with curiosity before grasping the depth of her question. He backed up to the far side of the room and turned to the window, staring at the rainy sky. "Do you know the tale of the three brothers and the deathly hallows?" he asked in a calm voice, as he discreetly fidgeted with the ring on his finger.
"Yes, of course. I was told the story often as a child. The tale of the three brothers who challenged death and were rewarded with three legendary artefacts..." As she spoke, Harry locked eyes with her. His pupils shone with an unusual brightness, and the Slytherin began to grasp the meaning behind his words.
"The cloak we used... You know it's passed down from generation to generation in my family? It's impossible for an invisibility cloak to last so long. Centuries, maybe even millennia, it's simply inconceivable," he began, his voice charged with emotion. Daphne, slowly realising the power her lover held, was petrified.
"The Elder Wand... Dumbledore's, ever since he defeated Gellert Grindelwald..." He took a step toward her.
"And this ring," he added, extending his hand toward her. "Which holds the Resurrection Stone."
Daphne froze once more, overwhelmed by shock.
"It's said that whoever possesses these three objects becomes the Master of Death. I don't feel like the master of anything... But I have gained knowledge inaccessible to ordinary mortals. And given the adversary I must face, I now understand why I obtained them..."
"Harry!" she exclaimed. "You barely escaped death a month ago, and you're already considering challenging it again? When will you realise the risks you're taking?"
Harry tilted his head, not understanding the vehemence of her reaction. "But I have no choice, Daphne. He'll come after me, after you, after everyone I love until he falls. And I'm the only one who can take him down," he replied, recalling the grim prophecy.
His uncle hadn't managed to kill Voldemort during the cemetery battle. That meant either the Dark Lord had another way of escaping death, or fate intervened in the world of the living in a much more complex way than he had imagined. His uncle wouldn't have let the man escape if he had the chance.
"This power, Harry, cost the three brothers their lives. The only survivor hid, but death eventually caught up with him. You can't defeat death!" Daphne warned him, gripping his arm tightly.
"And what am I supposed to do?! Sit idle and do nothing while that psychopath targets those I love without reacting?!" Harry roared, gently pushing Daphne aside. His gaze locked onto hers, unable to contain the fury rising within him.
"I don't care what happens to me. If my life is the price to pay for protecting others, then I'll give it without hesitation!"
He realised that these words shattered the heart of the Slytherin. Before he could regret them, she slapped him and stepped back.
"You selfish idiot! Do you realise what you're saying? And what about Sirius? And your uncle, who has been fighting for years to give us a peaceful future? And me? Don't you think for a moment about what I'm feeling?"
Harry stepped back, wounded by the pain in Daphne's voice far more than by the slap itself.
"I have no choice, Daph. Without this power, I won't be able to defeat him for years. How many families will he destroy by then?" he murmured weakly, while Daphne clenched her fists.
"Power... Power... That's all you think about! I feel like I'm back in the Slytherin common room," she growled as she headed toward the door.
"You're Harry Potter, the brave Gryffindor, not Hadrian Potter, the invincible soldier seeking revenge. Stop comparing yourself to him, Potter. You are your own person," she spat angrily before slamming the door.
Harry remained frozen on the couch, defeated. He couldn't back down now. If he withdrew, Voldemort would win. His uncle could hold him off. But if he couldn't defeat him, then what was the point?
Which path was he supposed to follow? The path of the heart? The path of reason? The path of duty? He was lost.
'I'm sorry, Daph,' he thought as he disappeared into the training room of the manor.
07/02/1995, 16H27, Potter Manor, England:
The moment the door closed behind her, Daphne collapsed against the wall, tears streaming down her face. The thought of losing the boy she loved tore her apart inside. How her mother had forgiven her father so quickly for faking his death, she had no idea.
Deep down, she knew that the day Harry would have to face Voldemort was inevitable. And having watched his growth over the past few years, she was certain that one day he would be able to defeat him. But not for several years.
"Selfish? I'm the selfish one in all of this," she whispered to herself, clutching her shirt tightly.
Harry was willing to sacrifice his life to protect them all. But what about her? If she had to choose between letting hundreds of Muggle families perish while Harry prepared for the battle, or sending Harry to fight now, she would choose the first option without hesitation. She would rather carry the weight of guilt for letting innocents die than live without him.
She was madly in love with him. The fact that he cared so little for his own life filled her with an unquenchable rage. "Why can't you understand that?!" she cried, pounding the floor.
"You want him to realise how much he means to you and to take better care of himself, don't you?" asked a cold voice beside her.
Daphne turned abruptly, her eyes red and still wet with tears, and saw Fortuna Moon sitting not far from her.
Shocked by the woman's presence, she merely nodded before looking away.
A heavy silence settled between them. Daphne didn't understand why Harry's uncle's colleague was there. But suddenly... She felt a pair of arms gently wrap around her. She understood immediately. Fortuna Moon, the coldest and most distant woman she had ever met, was hugging her. The young girl sensed a certain hesitation in the gesture, but that didn't diminish its effect. Slowly, her sobs quieted, and her heart calmed as she drifted off to sleep.
"He can't see beyond his fight with Voldemort. It's up to you to help him envision the future, Daphne Greengrass."
Fortuna, displaying surprising strength, lifted the sleeping girl in her arms and carried her to Hadrian's office, where her mother and sister were waiting. "The Potters are complex men, aren't they?" sighed the bounty hunter. After all, if the younger one was already difficult to reason with, then the older one...
07/02/1995, 16H38, Potter Manor, England:
Harry ducked to dodge the spells flying towards him and, with a confident flick of his wand, split the ground. His new magical instrument proved its effectiveness once again as a massive slab of concrete rose from the earth, forming a protective wall against his opponent's assault.
When the barrage of spells ceased, Harry transformed the massive slab into a stone statue, similar to those adorning Hogwarts, and hurled it at Deos.
Deos retaliated by unleashing a rain of explosive spells upon the animated stone creature, but to no avail. Harry kept repairing the damage. The power surging through him was intoxicating. He felt as though he could control everything. Magic itself seemed to bend to his will. It was an inexplicable feeling that, he sensed, was driving him mad.
Then, Harry saw Deos freeze. The statue raised its sword, poised for a fatal strike when… *Crack*.
Deos had vanished, Apparating behind him. Caught off guard, Harry tried to turn, but he knew he was too slow. His arrogance had betrayed him.
However, just as the final strike was about to land, a massive wall of ice rose between him and his adversary, forcing Deos to retreat.
Harry instantly realised he had managed to master this new form of magic. The ice standing before him was pristine white and deadly cold, capable of instantly killing anyone who dared touch it. His magic had instinctively reacted to protect him.
Seizing this new element, he sliced the ice into multiple shards with his wand. In an instant, a dozen deadly ice spears surrounded him.
"Take this!" he shouted, launching the spears with terrifying force at his opponent.
Deos dropped to his knees and planted his wand in the ground, attempting to alter gravity. He succeeded, forcing Harry to his knees, but the ice remained unfazed. "Just as I thought. This isn't ordinary ice. It's tied to that damn death magic!"
Seeing the spears weren't stopping, Deos threw himself to the ground. One of the spears slashed his shoulder, but the others flew past.
Harry then watched as his enemy's shoulder began to disintegrate, and he understood. This wasn't just a physical wound. Like the curses of the dead, this magic attacked the soul directly.
"This is exactly what I need to face Voldemort!" Harry exclaimed.
He drove his wand into the ground and cast a gravity spell that pushed back the one from the Spanish Dark Lord for several long seconds. The duel continued for a few moments until Deos' injury forced him to yield.
Harry stood up, watching with satisfaction as the man dissolved into nothingness. Slowly, the surroundings faded away as a voice echoed: "You have completed Level Seven in twelve minutes and thirty-four seconds. Congratulations, Harry Potter."
"What would you like to do next?" asked the disembodied voice.
Confident after his overwhelming victory, Harry declared, "Move on to the final level. I want to face the most powerful opponent this room can offer me!"
Immediately, the scenery changed, and Harry found himself in the courtyard of Hogwarts. Unlike usual, the voice made no further comment. However, Harry didn't pay much attention. As long as he had an opponent to fight, that was all that mattered.
As he scanned the surroundings for his next foe, he sensed a presence behind him. Instinctively, he turned and once again summoned the icy magic he was beginning to master. He felt the ring on his finger grow cold as a massive scythe flew toward a shadowy figure approaching him.
The scythe sped toward the figure, and for a moment, Harry thought the battle would end as quickly as it began. But before it could reach its target, the scythe stopped mid-air.
The mage stepped around the weapon before stopping a few metres from Harry.
"This magic..." Harry recognized before the unknown wizard lowered his hood.
"Hello, Harry," greeted the man who revealed himself to be... "Uncle Hadrian!" Harry exclaimed, momentarily forgetting where he was. "So, you're the final level?"
Hadrian nodded, cancelling the spell holding the scythe, which resumed its flight before disappearing into the distance.
"You're already at the final level? You're advancing a bit too quickly, don't you think?" the older man asked.
Harry looked at his mentor in astonishment. The other opponents had never really interacted with him. This level wasn't the hardest for just any reason. "No, Uncle Hadrian. I'm ready! With this power, I'll defeat you and bring down Voldemort! Then everything can return to normal!"
Hadrian looked at Harry with sadness, then simply drew his wand.
"Well then, I'm waiting. Are you ready?" asked the time traveller. Harry nodded, and they bowed to one another before Harry's first spell shot from his wand.
Unlike Deos, who had been forced to dodge or retreat against Harry's raw power, Hadrian deflected the spell. This took Harry by surprise.
Hadrian seized the opening to counter-attack, unleashing spells at an impressive speed. He moved little, limping toward Harry when he managed to push him back. For several minutes, they exchanged a variety of spells and curses, testing each other's limits. Harry conjured two arcs of fire and then created small stone wolves, which he sent after Hadrian.
The invincible soldier met the attack with a smile that lit up his face. It wasn't a smirk of mockery, though—no, it was one of pride.
He waited for the devouring flames to approach, then, with a motion as fluid as it was elegant, he caught the tip of the fire arc with his wand. The flames were instantly absorbed into the wood, transforming into a black energy that radiated from the wand. With a lightning-quick move, he sent the attack back at Harry, diverting the course of the flames. As for the second elemental attack, it was dissipated by a rapid, precise counter, as if it had never existed.
Taking advantage of the opening, the stone wolves, animated by Harry's magic, charged at Hadrian. But their assault was short-lived. A searing pain coursed through Harry's mind, followed by an abyssal emptiness. He had lost control of his stone creations, which collapsed into a lifeless heap. A mental intrusion had shattered his defences, robbing him of his control over them.
Realising he couldn't win through brute force, Harry decided to harness his newfound mastery of ice. He concentrated all his energy on wielding this ancient magic, feeling the icy cold seep into his very bones. A wall of pure, immaculate ice rose between him and his adversary, creating an impenetrable barrier. Fire and ice clashed, but neither could gain the upper hand. The only sounds were the crackling of flames and the creaking of ice.
Copying the tactic Deos had previously used, Harry let his ice wall collapse with a powerful gesture and teleported out of reach of the flames. Reappearing a few metres away, he created multiple ice spikes, mentally sharpening them into deadly projectiles. He launched them with surgical precision at Hadrian, who barely dodged the sharp arrows, his face contorted with effort.
"Did you see this power?" Harry exclaimed, pride and defiance mingling in his voice.
Hadrian, breathless but unshaken, responded in a grave voice, "I see it, and it is immense. But this power is consuming you, Harry. In trying to master it, you risk losing your humanity."
Those words struck Harry like a bolt of lightning. He remembered Daphne's warnings, the doubts she had voiced. He raised his wand, and dark, corrupted energy began to gather at its tip. A shadowy creature, part raven, part wraith, took shape, its eyes glowing with a sinister green light. It seemed to embody death itself, a tangible manifestation of destruction.
"You're the one who pushed me down this path! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO PUT ME ON THIS ROAD! YOU TOLD ME OVER AND OVER AGAIN HOW IMPORTANT POWER WAS! AND NOW THAT I HAVE IT, YOU'RE TELLING ME IT'S WRONG?!" Harry roared, his voice shaking the earth. A destructive force emanated from him, eroding the stone beneath his feet, drying the air, and withering the plants. The environment warped under the weight of the unleashed power, a testament to the corruption taking hold of him.
"I-I did this?" stammered Hadrian, his voice trembling. Harry saw his uncle's hands shaking convulsively, his face twisted in pain and despair. 'This memory is too real. He must have imported a monstrous amount of memories to simulate it so well,' the boy thought, unable to contain his shock at his uncle's emotional collapse.
Harry let out another scream, a heart-wrenching cry that reverberated through the simulated space. He violently slashed the air with his wand, releasing a dark and corrupted energy. The small form at the tip of his wand came to life, stretched, and expanded, covering the sky with a menacing shadow. A gigantic raven, its emerald eyes glowing with a malevolent light, spread its massive wings, like a demon descending into the mortal world. A deadly chill descended upon them as Harry commanded the creature to swoop down on his uncle, ending their confrontation.
He himself collapsed to his knees, exhausted from the summoning. Even for someone with a magical core far above average, such an effort was draining.
Suddenly, he felt a monstrous aura emanating from his uncle, a primordial force that seemed to shake the foundations of the simulated reality. The air vibrated, twisting under the onslaught of golden flames that erupted from the man. His blindfold fell from his eyes, revealing white pupils glowing with an inner light. He stretched out his arms toward the raven, like a god facing a dark force.
"Strength matters, Harry. It allows you to protect those you care about, and to move things forward in the wizarding world. However…" he paused, his deep voice resonating through the space, his wand pointed at the raven. "Remember, you're not invincible. I made a mistake in preparing you this way. But now is not the time for apologies or regrets."
The man took a step forward, the entire dimension trembling under the impact of his power. "Don't be arrogant. You are not a perfect weapon. You are Harry James Potter, a 14-year-old boy from Gryffindor. Remember that!"
His eyes pulsed, the gold of his magic opposing the raven's sinister emerald glow. Suddenly, Hadrian's golden energy condensed into a radiant sphere that surged toward the creature.
"You're not the only one who has grasped a concept. Watch closely, and open your eyes wide!" he exclaimed manically, as an immense phantom clock appeared beneath his feet, symbolising his control over time and space.
Harry braced himself to counter-attack, but he was suddenly frozen. Time seemed to stop, sound fell away. He could no longer move, but his senses were heightened.
Boom Boom
Echoing like the beat of a cosmic heart, he heard his uncle's pulse. The man moved toward him, traversing the warped space with unsettling ease. He stopped in front of Harry, pointing his wand at his forehead.
Harry was paralyzed, his eyes locked on the scene unfolding before him. He couldn't look away, forced to witness his own defeat. The raven, unlike the boy, was able to move, albeit slowly, each flap of its wings seeming to shake the entire reality.
Boom Boom
Hadrian's heart beat like a war drum, resonating through the simulated space. What inhuman strength! Even with this new power, Harry felt as insignificant as a grain of sand before a hurricane. "So this is the power of someone who has understood the concept of time," he thought, a mix of admiration and despair washing over him.
"Forgive me, Harry. I failed as an uncle. I'm truly sorry..." Hadrian murmured, his voice filled with sadness and regret. Then, darkness swallowed Harry, plunging him into a bottomless abyss.
07/02/1995, 17H29, Potter Manor, England:
When Harry regained consciousness, he found himself in a devastated training room. The once pristine walls were now marred with deep scratches, silent witnesses to the violence of the battles that had taken place. He struggled to his feet, each movement eliciting a groan of pain. His body was racked with soreness, and his magical reserves were completely drained. He felt like an empty shell, devoid of energy.
He took a few shaky steps, then collapsed heavily onto the cold floor. Memories of his confrontation with his girlfriend and then with the memory of his uncle overwhelmed him: Daphne's face, etched with a fear he would never forget, and the despair in his uncle's eyes. A wave of guilt washed over him. Had he gone too far? Had he crossed too many lines?
This new power, he could feel it, was slowly corrupting him. It was like an addiction, a destructive force eating away at him from the inside. With each use, a part of him dimmed, replaced by cold indifference. Hatred and anger were becoming his only companions.
"I'm the one who's sorry," he murmured quietly, tears streaming down his cheeks. Not long ago, he would have sacrificed everything for such power, no matter the cost.
Now that he had it, he felt the mental toll it was taking on him.
He had held on until now, but the pressure had become unbearable. The uncertain future, the weight of his responsibilities, the fear of losing those he loved... he felt alone, lost in a maze with no exit.
He lay there, staring at the cracked ceiling. Despite his injuries, his body felt foreign to him, like a broken instrument. A wave of nausea overtook him, not physical but mental. He felt as though he had lost himself in the darkness.
The anger he had nurtured for so long had turned into a poison, eating him from the inside. He felt impure, tainted by this dark force. He had always believed he was strong, on the path to invincibility. But facing this new part of himself, he felt small, insignificant.
As he wrestled with his inner demons, the door opened, and Sirius entered, his face etched with worry.
"Harry? What happened?" he asked, approaching his godson. The young Gryffindor, who had expected to see his godfather drunk in some Muggle bar, felt immense relief at seeing him.
Harry turned his gaze toward him. He felt vulnerable, like a lost child.
"I... I don't know, Sirius," he stammered, his voice trembling. "I'm scared. Of what I've become... and what I might become."
Sirius sat down next to him and took his hand in his. "What are you talking about, pup?" he asked softly, concern written all over his face.
Harry hesitated for a moment, then opened up. He spoke of the Deathly Hallows, the impact of the prophecy on him, and his loss of control over his magic, his voice shaking slightly. Sirius listened intently, his gaze soft and understanding. "Harry, you're not alone in this. We're all here for you—me, Daphne, Hadrian, Fortuna, Remus..."
Harry shook his head, his eyes filled with doubt. "I don't want to drag you all in deeper than you already are... I don't want to put you in even more danger."
"Harry, you can't carry this burden alone," Sirius insisted, his voice firm. "That's why Hadrian did what he did. That's why Neville and Hermione are spending their holidays training at Longbottom Manor. That's why Dumbledore spends his days fighting with Fudge at the Ministry to get them to recognize Voldemort's return. We're here," he said, placing a hand over his heart, "with you."
A long silence fell, heavy and laden with emotion. Then Sirius spoke again, his voice softer: "You know, I understand how you feel. I've known anger and fear, too. I've lost control of my emotions more than once, and I paid a heavy price for it."
Harry leaned into Sirius, seeking the comfort he had never dared ask from the older man. "This isn't a fight between you and all the dark forces in the world. That's Hadrian's role. Our role is to live while protecting those we love and those who deserve it," explained Sirius. He then bowed his head and added, "Together."
Harry nodded, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. He wasn't alone. His role didn't end with Voldemort's defeat. All those who cared about him, who loved him, were counting on him to live a long life. He couldn't let them down.
When he finally calmed down, Harry sat up, straightening his back. He stowed away his new wand and turned his head toward Sirius, who was watching him with concern. "Sorry you had to see that, Sirius," Harry sighed, feeling much better after confiding in him.
"Don't apologise, Harry. It's normal. What were you doing here?" asked the former prisoner, curious.
"I was fighting Uncle Hadrian in the final level. He's way too strong," Harry admitted as he stood up and dusted himself off.
He continued, but Sirius interrupted him, a perplexed look on his face. "Harry?"
"What, Padfoot?"
"There's no level with Hadrian in it. I was there when the training room was built. The final level is a battle against Voldemort and his army, if I'm not mistaken. Dumbledore even lent his own memories for it," Sirius recalled.
"But then..." Harry paled.
"If you fought your uncle... then it means you fought the real one!"