Forged In Chaos

by dsmuso

Legends are not born but forged. So what happens when you are born to be great, to surpass all who came before? Thrust into a strange and new world will Hadrian bring back honor and prestige to his fallen family? Surrounded by shadows and powers seen & unseen, will the weight of expectation and destiny crush him? Or will he thrive in the chaos and tame fate.

17. Chapter 16 - Highs and Lows

HIGHS AND LOWS

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The price of greatness is responsibility...

—Winston Churchill

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The autumn sun was beginning its slow descent, casting long golden streaks across the Quidditch pitch. A sharp breeze rolled through the open field, a promise of a cold winter. It carried with it the crisp scent of grass and the low buzz of students gathered for the much-anticipated Ravenclaw Quidditch trials. Ravenclaw banners rustled, adding fanfare and pomp.

Hadrian was standing at the edge of the pitch, arms crossed. His eyes taking in the fanfare. Around him, a mix of eager hopefuls shifted restlessly, some stretching, others exchanging hushed whispers as they eyed their competition.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Terry muttered, pulling at his sleeves. "I feel like I've already made a mistake."

"Where's all that bluster gone Boot?" Tony teased, an edge of nervousness in his voice as he eyed some of the older students.

"Some of these guys look like they can eat us for dessert." Terry glanced nervously at a group of fourth years. The boys were stocky and bigger than their own slighter frames.

"So you want to stop?" Tony asked, quirking a brow.

"No." Terry worked his jaw. "I'm just saying if you guys wanted to back down, I would understand." Terry shrugged.

"I sort of promised Padma to give this a fair shot." Hadrian muttered, looking at the stands. He caught sight of warm dark skin near the front. Golden honey eyes found his and Padma flashed him a smile and surge of warmth filled him. He breathed out, his legs no longer jittering.

"Man you are so whipped." Terry muttered and Hadrian looked at him weirdly.

"What?" Hadrian asked confused. Tony shook his head, chuckling.

"Don't mind him." Tony waved his hands dismissively. "It'll start soon." Tony said, a note of excitement in his voice.

Up on the stands the girls and Michael were watching the action. Padma was sat between Su and Mandy; the latter leaning forward excitedly. Michael was in the row behind them, next to Lisa and Morag.

"How do you think they'll do?" Mandy asked, turning to Padma.

"Fine, I think. There's quite a crowd today," Padma said looking around. The stand was quite full of people, excited to look at their potential team for the year. "Is that usual?"

"I heard Professor Flitwick was setting up an obstacle course with some of the sixth and seventh years." Michael piped up from behind them.

"Davies must be gunning hard for the cup this year." Morag observed. The Quidditch cup had been the possession of Slytherin house for the past two years. Ravenclaws typically dominated the academic scores but had been lacking in sports. It had been the subject of many a rant from Roger, the current captain, in the common room.

"I hope it won't be too dangerous." Padma looked worriedly down at the field. She hoped Hadrian didn't get hurt, quidditch was a brutal sport. It made her wonder why the British were so obsessed with it. While she was okay going on a broom and could certainly appreciate the speed of them, she much preferred carpets. There was no need to hang on for life, just simple relaxed flying with room for multiple people. Now that was flying.

Her eyes found Hadrian quickly, he was off to the side, huddled together with Terry and Tony. Hadrian turned to look at her, and she smiled, her powers pulling at his being like second nature; warm fuzzy red confidence trickled down to him and he waved.

There was a sharp whistle as Roger Davies stepped up to the hopefuls.

"It's starting." Mandy vibrated in her seat.

Roger was a fifth year, tall and broad shouldered. His eyes gleamed with excitement as they flicked across the hopefuls. There's a good spread this year, guess we can recoup our numbers, he thought privately.

Roger knew he had a task and a half, the Ravenclaw team only had five proper members currently. The others had moved on, either graduating or getting ready for their final year. They needed to fill two positions, Beater and Chaser and they also needed reserves for every other position; quidditch was a contact sport after all.

He glanced at the surviving members of last years team; Duncan Inglebee a fellow fifth year and the keeper was stretching his arms. Finnan and Jason, fourth years; beater and chaser respectively were looking bored, while Cho Chang their third year Seeker was standing to his right, eyeing everyone speculatively.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw Quidditch tryouts," Roger finally announced, his voice carrying across the pitch. "As most of you know, skill alone doesn't win matches. You need endurance, speed, and control." He glanced at the gathered hopefuls. "That's why we're starting with a fitness test. If you can't keep up physically, you won't last an entire match. Understood?"

Murmurs rippled through the group, but no one protested.

"Good. Let's begin."

*

The ground thudded beneath Hadrian's feet as they took off across the pitch. The air was thick with the sound of rapid footsteps and controlled breathing as candidates pushed themselves through the first trial—laps around the field.

Tony kept pace beside him, his breath even but his expression taut with focus. Terry, lagging slightly, shot them a glare. "I feel like this is discriminatory against those of us who prefer to let our brooms do the running."

"Survival of the fittest, Boot," Hadrian called back, grinning.

"Come on now, my grandmother runs faster than this!" Inglebee shouted from the side, keeping up with the group. "Hustle people!"

Terry grit his teeth and caught up to his two friends, doggedly keeping up. A few laps later Roger blew his whistle, signalling the end of the run. Terry collapsed falling onto his knees, gulping down air. Tony groaned and eased himself onto the grass, rubbing his stomach. Hadrian was still standing, chest heaving and a light sweat beading his brow.

"How can you still stand after that?" Terry gasped out, a mild glare at Hadrian.

"I run sometimes." Hadrian said shaking his legs. He watched as everyone caught their breath. Meanwhile, Roger was conferring with the team, making notes on his clipboard.*

"At least they got through the laps," Mandy smiled, watching their three classmates catch their breath.

"I'm actually surprised Tony managed it though. He had a heavy lunch." Lisa observed.

"Imagine how much of a waste it would have been if they got kicked out at the first trial." Michael chuckled.

"Can you imagine how much Terry would moan about it?" Morag snickered.

On the field, Roger was explaining the next set of tests they would be doing. Terry found that he had issues with some of them.

"Push-ups? What are those for, we'll be flying not carrying sacks of flour around." Terry whispered furiously.

"It's about strength," Hadrian explained. "I don't think throwing a quaffle or swinging a bat is easy." They watched as Roger and Inglebee went through the lines, divvying them up.

Tony nodded, "You shouldn't complain much, you want to be a beater." The blonde moved aside as Roger sidled up to the group.

"Alright boys, your turn." Davies said with an easy smile. "Give me twenty push ups, mind your form."

Terry squawked and looked ready to protest but Tony jabbed him in the side. Still mutinous, Terry obliged and started the exercise.

Hadrian dropped, his hands catching him before he hit the grass, his back straightened and he took a breath tightening his core. Form is everything, slow is good, smooth is fast, he remembered the words of Mark at the youth gym he and Dudley went to. He lowered himself and then pumped up.

"One." Roger counted and continued as they progressed. Tony collapsed after fourteen while Terry managed sixteen before cursing and giving up. Hadrian went on to finish the twenty.

"Good job Potter." Roger praised, making a note on his clipboard. Hadrian dipped his head in acknowledgement, too busy taking deep breaths to calm his heartbeat.

Up in the stands Michael was frowning at what he was seeing. "Is it me or did Hadrian make that look easy."

"Oh it's definitely you." Lisa chirped, grinning.

"Oh shove off." Michael said half heartedly, so he was a bit lazy, sue him.

"He mentioned that he goes to a gym with his cousin, they box there." Padma answered absentmindedly. They were setting up the next exercise— rows of wooden boxes. Roger demonstrated by jumping on top of one.

"Well remind me not to get on his bad side then." Michael commented.

"Really? You're afraid of someone as small as Su?" Mandy turned around, a smile stretching across her lips.

"Small people are fast, you know." Michael defended, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Should I be offended?" Su Li asked Padma, "I feel like I should?"

"I think you can. Mandy won't mind." Padma chuckled. Mandy turned having heard her name.

"What's that?" the frazzled girl asked.

"Nothing Mandy." Padma reassured waving her away. "See." She said to Su who huffed, a smile pulling at her lips.

Hadrian was thankful when Roger blew the whistle to end the exercise, he unashamedly collapsed to the ground. His legs were burning, the muscles protesting. Terry was lying on his back, gasping loudly, his face red. Tony was massaging his abused legs, muttering curses under his breath. Hadrian leaned back – above, the sky stretched vast and endless. He spotted a familiar shape circling above the field. An avian mind reached out to his and slotted in with ease with his own thoughts.

Hey Hedwig, he reached out in greeting.

Master-friend, an impression of images filled his head and he could see himself from high above running and jumping. He marvelled at the clarity of vision that Hedwig always had and the sheer amount of detail she saw.

"Alright," Roger called out. "Broom sprint next. Get in position."

Lining up beside the other candidates, Hadrian felt a shift in the air. This was different. This was where things truly began.

Roger stepped forward. "Standard sprint. Down to the goalposts and back. No spells, no bumping. First across the line wins."

Hadrian gripped the broom, it was a school broom, a standard Cleansweep. Nobody was allowed personal brooms in the trials, they had to keep things fair. The polished wood was warm beneath his fingers and he traced its aged grooves and patterns. His eyes flickered to the stands, where Padma was watching intently. He mounted the broom, his magic and the broom's falling into sync. The whistle blew.

He shot forward, the wind howling past his ears. His body was low, his grip firm but not tight. The world blurred at the edges, the people beside him a distant thought. He zoomed ahead. The wind changed and he shifted, his straight shot curving, cutting into the wind. He was a full broom length ahead as he came to the goalposts. He shifted his weight, raising his head slightly, the muscles of his core bracing and tugged the handle – the broom shuddered slightly, bleeding speed and swinging around the goalpost sharply. He heard a curse behind him but paid it no mind. He leaned forward and shot for the far goalposts. The grass was a blurring curtain of green below him and the wind urging him forward now. He was in the clear.

Then—

A flash of red and gold high above. Hadrian's head twitched, a whisper of something brushing against his mind. A flicker of warmth. Of knowing.

Fawkes.

The phoenix drifted lazily in the sky, its feathers catching the light. It was watching.

Hadrian slowed.

There were shouts from the stands and Hadrian shook his head and pushed forward, but it was too late. That moment of distraction cost him. The third-year behind him surged ahead, crossing the finish line moments before him.

Hadrian pulled his handle, coming to an abrupt stop, exhaling sharply.

"You okay Potter." Roger asked. Hadrian nodded, quickly dismounting his broom. His eyes flicked up and quickly found Fawkes. The phoenix was being circled by Hedwig, who seemed agitated. Damn phoenix, Hadrian muttered.

From the stands, Padma raised an eyebrow.

"Did he just—" Mandy started

"Lose? Yes." Padma finished.

"It looked like he slowed down. Why would he?" Morag wondered out loud.

"Faulty broom maybe?" Michael ventured.

Padma hummed thoughtfully, not answering as the group around her debated. She was watching Hadrian—he seemed to be glancing up into the sky. She knew Hedwig was up there, having felt the bird's mind touch her own some time ago; but Hadrian wouldn't find that odd. Su bumped her shoulder, grabbing her attention.

"Up there." The petite girl pointed. Padma followed her gaze and frowned; what was that colourful bird?

*

"You can't be serious." Terry said outraged, a sentiment shared by many of the hopefuls.

"Hey if you think you can't cut it, you're welcome to give up." Roger shrugged.

"How in Merlin's beard are we supposed to get through that?" Terry asked. "Tony, Potter, back me up here." He turned to his classmates.

If the sprint had been about speed, the obstacle course was about control. At least that's what Roger had said. Looking at it, Hadrian thought it looked certain to kill them. He and Tony shared a grimace.

The course stretched across half the pitch, an intricate maze of floating rings, shifting wind currents, and enchanted dummies that swung with brutal force. Glowing trails of illusionary light traced out the path, twisting and turning through the obstacles

Roger gestured toward it. "The goal is simple—make it through as fast as possible." He smirked. "And try not to die. Who wants to go first?"

None of them stepped forward, in fact a few shuffled back.

"Ha, bunch of softies." Inglebee snorted. "Hey Chang, care to give them a demonstration?" He nudged the third year girl forward.

She scoffed, beating away his hand. "I didn't ask you to volunteer me." She bit back, but she still stepped forward. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail.

She took an offered broom from Roger who smirked lightly. She huffed and quickly got ready.

"You ready?" Roger asked.

"As I'll ever be." Her grip tightened on the handle.

Roger blew the whistle and she was off, her ascent quick and sharp.

"Damn she's good." Terry whistled.

Cho was nimble and fast. Her slim form conforming to the curves of the broom. She took the first ring and looped around dodging a spinning wooden beam. A sudden gust whipped past her, and she let it spin her, shifting her whole body, juking her broom. She righted herself, nearly clipping a beam but kept going, zooming through rings. It was daring and dizzying.

"Aaaand time!" Roger screamed, clicking his stop watch as Cho crossed the line. A cheer rose up at the stands as Cho came to a coasting stop. She was slightly out of breath but her smile was wide.

"Dare any of you to beat that time." Inglebee whooped, shaking the tired seeker. Cho flushed pleased with herself.

"Most important part is that you finish." Roger said.

"In the quickest time." Inglebee added grinning. Roger snorted but didn't disagree.

"So who is first?" Roger asked. Nobody moved. Roger sighed, "Fine then, I'll just point, you bunch of wusses."

Hadrian watched as the first candidate took off, obviously nervous, his grip so tight, his broom wobbled. He barely made it through the first ring before being knocked sideways by a sudden gust.

The third-year who had beaten him in the sprint went next, moving well but hesitating at the swinging dummies, losing speed and time.

Roger then pointed to Hadrian, "Lets see what you've got Potter."

Hadrian stepped up and took a breath. He looked at the obstacles; the rotating rings, the spinning dummies, the illusionary walls and the whipping silver wind. A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd but Hadrian paid it no mind, he wasn't going to get distracted again.

Padma watched as Hadrian stepped forward, his shoulders square. She gripped the railing tight, a thread of nervous energy going through her. Please be careful, she thought. She wanted to reach out to him but she kept a tight grip on herself. This much excitement, this many people and she wasn't sure she could hold on to herself. Her other hand found her necklace, it was warm and it's magic thrummed under her fingers.

Hadrian took a breath and nodded towards Roger. The first note of the whistle and he was off. Wind whipped around him, pulling his hair back and biting at his face. He lay flat against the broom, pressed so tight against it, he didn't know where it ended and he began. The first ring loomed and he shot through. He twisted and turned, following the illusionary paths laid out. Something blurred at the edge of his vision and his magic screamed— he let out a grunt and wrenched his broom, jerking to the side, spinning away, the beam whispered by his head. He pulled up, his stomach dropping low as he climbed, the angle set by the trails of light steep.

He gasped as the path fell away, looping back down. He quickly adjusted his grip, pulling hard, his muscles screamed in protest and the broom shuddered. But then the broom was above and his body below and he stopped pulling. For a moment, a few heartbeats, he hang there, the sky and ground having switched places, then he spun into a dive. He spiralled down, cutting through a gust of wind and into another ring. Green earth loomed, fast approaching. He pulled up, levelling out, his feet dangled for a moment, clipping the grass before finding purchase on the footrests.

The last ring loomed, a spinning cross beam right in front of it. He had to time it right. He inhaled, pressing into the wood and pushed his magic into the broom, willing it to move faster. He went past the beam, twisting around, his shoulder missing the swinging arm. Something clipped the back of his broom but he barely wobbled and shot through the last ring.

Roger blew the whistle. The crowd erupted.

Hadrian stopped unsteadily and dismounted, he wobbled, his feet like jelly. Roger was first there, a quick steady hand keeping Hadrian upright.

"Merlin Potter, are you mad?" Roger demanded.

"What?" Hadrian asked breathing heavily. The pounding in his ears was loud.

"Were you trying to kill yourself?" Roger grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

"You said to fly fast!" Hadrian beat away the arms, irritation flaring.

"Not like that." Roger said waving his hands around. "Nearly gave me a heart attack." He sighed, running a hand over his face. He muttered something Hadrian couldn't quite catch under his breath.

"Just go sit over there." Roger pointed vaguely at the group.

Bemused Hadrian nodded and made his way to his two dorm mates. He noticed that Cho Chang was looking at him, her expression closed off. He offered her a smile and nod, but she merely looked away.

Terry and Tony were beside themselves when Hadrian joined them.

"I always knew you were a good flier but mate that was mental!" Terry looked at him with no small amount of awe.

"I wasn't that good was I?" Hadrian asked uncomfortable. Everyone was staring at him.

"You beat Chang's time." Tony breathed out shaking his head in disbelief.

"What?" Hadrian spun looking at the scoreboard. Cho Chang's time had been at the top; two minutes twenty six seconds. But now another name was at the top; Hadrian Potter – two minutes twenty four seconds.

"Oh." Hadrian said, understanding. He glanced at Cho Chang, the girl was looking at him again, her look considering; once more she quickly turned away when she noticed his gaze.

The atmosphere at the stands was quite different. Mandy was up, screaming her head off as we're some others.

"Did you see that! Did you guys see that!" Mandy shouted, hands pounding against the railing. She spun around her eyes manic.

"Mandy sit down, you'll hurt yourself." Morag shouted, reaching over and pulling the other girl down.

"He beat her and she's like the best Seeker in the school." Mandy said bouncing on her seat.

"You're exaggerating, that title probably goes to Diggory in Hufflepuff." Lisa shook her head. "She's like number two."

"Maybe not anymore, he did beat her time." Michael added.

"Being faster than her doesn't mean he's a better seeker you know." Morag pointed out. "Seekers are more than just speed."

"Are you sure you watched the same thing as me?" Michael snorted, "Potter pulled off some wicked moves, while gunning it like a dragon was on his tail."

"Did you know he could do that?" Su asked excitedly turning to Padma. Padma who was staring at Hadrian her eyes intense. Her hand over her heart, urging it's hammering to slow.

"I knew he was a good flier, you've seen him in Madam Hooch's class." Padma said, golden eyes shadowed. "That was different though. Terrifying." She shook her head, a hysterical laugh breaking through.

Mandy slapped her hands together. "He was like whoosh and twist and bam, wowza. It was so cool!"

"The last dummy clipped him, do you think he's okay?" Padma asked worriedly.

"It was only a few twigs, he's fine." Michael dismissed. "All that's left is the Seeker trials, and after that, I bet Hadrian is a shoo-in."

"I thought it's only for the reserve position." Morag narrowed her eyes, reading Michael's intentions.

"After that performance, who would you bet on?" He challenged the group.

"Gambling is bad Michael." Mandy frowned, shaking her finger at him. He rolled his eyes and ignored her.

"I think my bet would be pretty obvious, but I'm pretty sure I'm biased." Padma said chuckling.

"Biased or no, you'd win that bet." Michael said confidently.

"The trial is about to start." Su drew their attention.

She was right, Roger was explaining to the group what the seeker trials entailed.

"Look, I would look to give everyone a shot at this but..." Roger began

"The sun's going down, we don't want to be here all day." Inglebee interjected.

Roger coughed and shot the keeper a mild glare. "Right, a seeker's first important attribute is speed and as such only those who made the top five, can compete." He glanced at his clipboard, "Well except Cho, she's already seeker, it'd be kind of redundant."

"I don't mind." Cho said, her voice firm. Everyone on the field stilled. Eyes flit between Cho and Hadrian.

"You sure?" Roger looked at her, his eyes full of question. She nodded once and he sighed.

"It'll be fun." She smiled then and looked at Hadrian and her smile strained. She turned away and got ready.

"Right. A dozen snitches will be released, training snitches, so we won't be here long." He chuckled but his joke fell flat and he continued, clearing his throat. "The one with the most snitches wins, if it's level, then time becomes a factor."

Everyone nodded, understanding and they got ready. Hadrian finally noticed that his broom was missing a few twigs. Cho sidled up to him as he was examining the damage.

"You should get another broom, rather you don't blame any loss on the broom right?" She smiled coolly at him, her dark eyes gleaming.

"Um yea, maybe." He glanced away from her for a moment, her dark eyes were unsettling in their intensity. "I didn't mean to um...about the time I mean."

She raised a hand, stopping him cold, "Fair is fair. Don't worry about it. Plus it was beginners luck." She dismissed and sauntered away.

Hadrian clenched his jaw, the muscles in his cheek jumping, something bitter and cold brewing in his chest at her casual dismissal.

"What did she want?" Tony asked, laying a hand on Hadrian's shoulder.

Hadrian had to put in effort to unhinge his jaw, "Came by to wish me luck." He said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Tony eyed him, his blue eyes intense; he didn't believe him but wasn't going to push. Hadrian appreciated the gesture.

"I say you should just smoke her like the obstacle, knock her down a peg." Terry encouraged, a wide grin on his mouth. The three turned to watch the resident seeker; she was having a hushed conversation with Roger. The captain seemed agitated but resigned while Cho was stood stiffly, shaking her head.

"Hey, are you not going to change your broom?" Terry asked, glancing at the broom in Hadrian's hands.

"You know what Terry, I quite like this broom and I think it'll be just fine." Hadrian said, a strange glint in his eyes. He brushed past the two and took his position.

"He says the strangest things sometimes." Terry huffed turning to Tony. The blond shook his head, watching Hadrian take his position beside Cho.

"I'm sure he knows what he is doing. Let's go find a spot." Tony said gesturing to the side and settling down to watch.

Roger released the snitches in a flurry of gold, the tiny orbs vanishing into the sky. Everyone shot up into the sky, whipping through the air searching. Except Hadrian. Confused murmurs rose up; was there something wrong with his broom?

Hadrian hovered, pulse steady.

Then, a soft brush of air—familiar; a soft melody of cold winds.

Hedwig touched his mind, and he felt the cool wind under her wings as she glided high above.

He followed her movement, noting the way she climbed effortlessly, the way the wind worked with her. She must have a fantastic view.

His lips curled. He tightened his grip, braced his legs and clenched his core. He pulled on the handle even as he pressed himself flat on the frame.

Hadrian shot upward.

He rose, the wind whistling in his ear and yet he kept going, higher than the others, past where most would dare, past where the obstacle course had reached, until he was where the air was thinner, quieter. He let his senses expand, feeling the wind, the pulse of the sky. He levelled out and drifted, circling lazily, his relaxed his eyes, taking in the distant field below him. For a few moments he luxuriated in the winds touch, the weightlessness of flight, the freedom of movement. Oh to have wings, his heart whispered.

Then—there.

The glint of gold.

He didn't think. He dove.

It was over in seconds—the snitch tried to moved, twitching to the side, but he spun, pulling hard on his broom. His hand flashed out.

His fingers closed around the snitch.

Hadrian grinned, hovering in place. He raised his hand towards the stands.

Roger shook his head. "Bloody hell."

The silence that followed was brief—then the explosion of cheers. He paid them no mind, a glint of gold sparkled at the edge of his vision. He tucked the snitch into a pouch and turned around. He urged his broom forward, curving round the field, picking up speed. There was a fluttering of clothes and displaced air – someone was behind him, he didn't know who, it didn't matter though.

He followed after the snitch, it spun around the goalposts before shooting up. Hadrian followed, close behind he could practically hear its little wings hum. He shifted his weight pulling up on his broom sharply, he twisted around the post, winding up its length and snatched the golden ball. That's two, he grinned, the second one joined the first in his pouch. He looked behind him and saw someone drifting away, dark hair fluttering in the wind – he shrugged, they didn't matter. He pointed his broom up and once more rose higher into the air.

Roger's whistle cut through the noise, ending the trial. Everyone came down, there was a thick tension in the air. Cho's jaw was set. Her smile confident. The resident seeker pulled out three snitches and smirked. Murmurs of appreciation rang out. She turned to Roger to say something, but Roger's attention wasn't on her, but rather on Hadrian, specifically the five snitches the younger boy had pulled out.

Her smiled dulled, turning into something decidedly flat. She swallowed and met his eyes and watched as a small smile pulled at his lips and with deliberate motion he raised his broom, it's twigs still missing. Cho looked away.

When the team was gathered again, Roger flipped his clipboard shut. "Boot, Goldstein—you'll be training as reserves." He turned to Hadrian. "You're on as reserve Seeker."

Hadrian nodded a grin pulling at his face. He turned catching Cho's eye but the girl was frowning, her hands stiff at her side. He had thought she would be okay with this. Terry and Tony did not share his enthusiasm and took it upon themselves to protest on his behalf of course.

"You can't be serious. Potter aced that!" Terry gesticulated wildly.

"He deserves to be seeker." Tony said firmly. There were murmurs from around the group, a few people sharing uneasy glances.

Cho stepped forward, voice even. "He was faster; he caught more than me."

Roger's gaze lingered. "Yeah. He did."

"So what's the issue?" Terry frowned. "Hadrian, speak up mate."

"He and I already talked." Roger quickly cut in. "He isn't as experienced, he's untested and he has a packed schedule."

"That is a load of..." Terry started but Hadrian grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.

"Hey, he's right, think about it. Reserve is what I was testing for." Hadrian gave Terry's shoulder another squeeze and gave Tony a subtle nod. The two boys glanced at each other and then back at him before reluctantly nodding.

Hadrian looked at Cho, her eyes were unreadable and he offered her a tentative smile. She grimaced before nodding back at him. The girl quickly excused herself, and left the field.

Hadrian sighed; it was times like these he envied Padma's ability. As if thinking about her called her, he felt a foreign emotion trickle into him in a way that was distinctly her; it took him a moment to realise he felt proud, no she felt proud of him. He turned to the stands and found her standing, looking right at him. He waved and she waved back, her emotion bubbling up into him.

*

---

The air in Minerva McGonagall's private quarters was warm, scented with chamomile and parchment, the faint crackle of the fireplace adding a soft undertone to the room's quiet. The late afternoon light seeped into the room from tall windows, lending it a soft golden glow. Hadrian sat comfortably on the couch opposite her, cradling a cup of tea between his hands. The warmth seeped into his fingers, the aroma curling pleasantly in his nose. Across from him, Minerva poured herself another cup, the silver teapot hovering gracefully under her practiced magic.

Despite the towering bookshelves and neatly stacked paperwork, the room was nothing like her rigid office. Her office was neat, imposing and gave an air of quiet authority. The room felt... lived-in – a tartan throw was draped over the armchair near the hearth, and a ginger cat was curled on a cushioned perch by the window, tail flicking idly. The room was cozy, in a way that made Hadrian think of home and aunt Petunia. He picked up a biscuit and broke it in half and sighed as a whiff of ginger touched his nostrils.

Minerva took a sip of her tea, observing him with the sharpness that had always made students wary—but there was no disapproval here, only familiarity and an undercurrent of softness. "So," she began, setting her cup down, "how were the Quidditch try-outs?"

Hadrian blinked, pausing mid-sip. "You know about that?"

Minerva arched a brow. "Hadrian, I am the Deputy Headmistress. I have access to the team lists. And, even if I didn't, I hardly needed to check the records. I imagine half the school heard about it by now."

Hadrian winced. "That bad?"

"Quite the opposite. From what I gather, you were rather spectacular." She smiled, amused by his discomfort.

Hadrian exhaled, sinking into the chair. "I just wanted to try out. Padma was insistent that I have something outside of classes."

Minerva's lips quirked. "A wise suggestion. You can't all your time in the runes workshop." She said knowingly.

He flushed, dipping his head at the subtle admonishment. He sighed shaking his head. "Ended up getting Reserve Seeker."

Minerva hummed knowingly. "I'm proud of you." She smiled, her eyes shining.

Hadrian felt heat creep up his cheeks and he huffed, he looked away, a smile pulling at his lips, "Thanks." He said quietly.

"It was odd though." He said after composing himself.

"Oh what else happened?" She tilted her head, reminiscent of her animagus form.

He fidgeted with the hem of his sweater and she quirked a brow at the gesture. "Well, I think I may have offended someone...Cho Chang; she's the seeker." He quickly explained what had happened, with the obstacle course and the seeker trials.

Minerva hummed, a thoughtful look on her face; she looked out of the window – she could make out a sliver of the lake from there; a dark glimmering mass, its depths hidden.

"It's not so strange, you are encroaching on an area she felt secure about." She started.

"I didn't mean to encroach." He protested loudly. The cat stirred, letting out a displeased hiss. Hadrian sat back in his seat.

"I know you didn't. People are complicated." She leaned forward and pat his arm gently. "Just try not to antagonise her and follow Davies instructions and you'll be fine."

"I guess so." Hadrian grumbled. "You know Padma said something similar."

"I imagine miss Patil has a unique insight into human emotion." Minerva smiled behind her cup. Hadrian coughed, almost choking on his tea.

"Wait, you knew?" He asked, pulling out a serviette to wipe some of the spilled tea.

"Of course I know, as does the headmaster, all the Heads of House and Madam Pomfrey." She shrugged as if that should have been obvious.

"Oh." Hadrian frowned; it did make sense. Padma had said that Empathy was classed as a mental art and those tended to be monitored by the ministry. "Does she know that you know?" He asked.

"Yes. She knows to go to any of us if she has trouble coping. So far there has been no issue, unless you know something we don't?" She looked at him intently, but he quickly shook his head.

They sat in silence for a while; the enchanted teacup bobbed over to top up Hadrian's tea. He looked at his godmother – the often stern lines of her face had relaxed and she had let her hair down literally, the long dark tresses falling straight across her shoulders and back. He wondered how many students had ever seen tough stern Professor McGonagall relaxed. He smirked, she was such a softie.

Minerva took a thoughtful sip of her tea, her expression momentarily distant. "Your father was quite talented at quidditch." She said suddenly.

Hadrian looked up, intrigued.

"He was a Chaser," Minerva continued, a faint smile playing on her lips. "One of the best I've seen in Gryffindor history. Scored the most points in quite a number of games."

Hadrian sat up, interested. "Really?"

"Oh yes. He had an uncanny knack for reading the field. Being on a broom was second nature to him – not unlike you." She glanced at him with a knowing look.

Hadrian hesitated at that, unsure how to respond, so he took a sip of his tea instead.

Minerva continued, eyes glinting with nostalgia. "Your mother, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less for the sport. She always found Quidditch to be—"

"'An excessive display of competitive idiocy'?" Hadrian guessed, grinning.

Minerva laughed. "Who said that?" she asked.

"Hermione." Hadrian smiled fondly, "After I told her I had made Reserve Seeker. Her exact words were, 'Congratulations, I hope you don't get hurt form that excessive display of competitive idiocy.'"

"She sounds very supportive." Minerva snorted.

"Oh she is, made me a list of all the protective gear and spells I will need. Davies was impressed when i showed him the list." Hadrian grinned.

"Well your mother and Hermione seem to share the sentiment. But Lily still went to the matches. She would sit in the stands, pretending to read her textbooks, but I saw the way she watched when Gryffindor played." Minerva smiled, her eyes distant.

Hadrian found himself smiling at the image. He could see his father flying recklessly and his mother clutching her books in the stands, not getting any reading done. It was a ridiculous image and yet knew that of all people Hermione might just bring a textbook to a quidditch match.

The room lapsed into a comfortable silence, the fire crackling between them. Then, Hadrian leaned forward, reaching into his bag. "Speaking of books, I wanted to show you something."

Minerva watched as he pulled out a small, rune-inscribed notebook. He placed it on the low table between them, the enchanted leather shimmering faintly in the candlelight.

"This," Hadrian said, tapping the cover, "is my latest project."

Minerva adjusted her spectacles and picked up the book, carefully opening it. "A journal?" She looked at the intricate designs of runes on the first page and inside of the cover. She could see some familiar runes; but most of it seemed to be almost jumbled.

"More than that. I call them MailBooks." He pulled out another book, dark green with an owl on the cover. He picked up a quill and scrawled something in his book. Minerva startled as the book in her hands vibrated slightly.

Hello, aunt Minnie.

She blinked as the words appeared on the page of her book. Minerva's brow arched, impressed despite herself. She frowned and summoned a quill and wrote something back.

Linked instant communication?

Hadrian grinned as her elegant cursive appeared in his own book.

Exactly. Whatever is written in one book appears in another linked book. It's like sending mail instantly.

"I call them MailBooks, I am still working on some other features." Hadrian said out loud. "What do you think?" He asked, his eyes focused on her, his hands were clasped tight on his lap.

Minerva traced a finger over the runes, murmuring thoughtfully. "This is exceptional work." She looked up at him. "Quite ingenious." She smiled at him, her eyes glimmering with open pride.

Hadrian's smile was wide, his chest filling with a tingling warmth; "Thank you, I worked hard on them."

"It shows." Minerva smirked, turning over the deceptively simple book in her hands. The cover was made from a soft leather, a simple clean brown, with black border designs and there in the centre was the outline of a green-eyed cat. Minerva chuckled at that bit of humour in the design, Hadrian was a cheeky little brat sometimes.

"The matrix is made up of two main arrays; a Replication array and a Transfer segment. The first samples the input; in this case the ink and creates a copy of it exactly but instead of displaying it on the same page, the Transfer segment takes it to the other target book." Hadrian explained.

Minerva nodded, she had seen a few runes she could identify; Raidho and Ehwaz has something to do with movement or transport if she remembered correctly. There was Othala that meant inherit and Wunjo for harmony. These and many others had been combined to form a complex matrix that she could have never hoped to create herself. Hadrian was fast approaching an impressive level.

"So tell me what inspired these?" She looked up at him and he seemed taken aback by the question.

"Um...well." He took a breath and chuckled, looking off to the side. "It takes a while for Hedwig to fly back and forth from India, so yea."

Minerva narrowed her eyes at him – she knew he had just lied to her, not blatantly, there was an element to truth to what he had just said, but she could tell there was more to it. Still, it would not help to press him; if it was important, he would tell her eventually. Plus, not knowing did not detract from how impressive these MailBooks were.

"How many people have you given these to?" She asked.

Hadrian rubbed the back of his neck. "So far, just Padma, Hermione, Neville, and I. But I was thinking of making more."

Minerva exhaled, sitting back in her chair. "Hadrian."

Hadrian winced. "I know."

"Do you?" She tapped the book lightly. "This is an impressive invention, and I am sure you've thought of the possibilities..."

"Yea, Hermione made a list." He said, his smile losing its edge.

"I'm sure she did." She chuckled despite herself before her face turned serious. "This, if done right, could change how we exchange correspondence." she shook her head, dispelling the possibilities running through her head.

"But a more immediate concern is how these can cause a disruption in class." She said sternly. Hadrian winced, unsurprised by how quickly she had sussed that out.

Hadrian sighed. "Neville said somthing similar."

Minerva lifted a brow. "Then Mr Longbottom is a very sensible young man."

Hadrian chuckled; he was not going to tell her that Neville absolutely espoused the benefits of note passing. "That he is." he said neutrally

She folded her hands in her lap. "I won't stop you from using them, but they must be used responsibly. If I catch any of these books being used for note-passing in my classroom, I will have no choice but to confiscate them."

Hadrian nodded quickly. "Got it. No secret note-passing in class."

Minerva gave him a long-suffering look, but there was amusement in her eyes. "We can discuss your ideas on making more of these later. I will have to do a bit of research on further implications."

"What implications?" Hadrian wondered, a well of dread opening up in his gut.

Minerva noticed his distress and waved off his concerns, "Nothing so serious, just things like protection from reproduction and patents."

"Oh." Hadrian scrunched his nose, he had not thought of that.

"I suspect you want this to become something exclusive to you; it's your first official artifice after all." She mused.

"Um yes, my first official one." He bit his lip and thought about his Stasis stones; he had given a few of them to that auror – Tonks, was that her name? He wondered how she was. He hoped she hadn't lost her badge again.

The conversation shifted, and Minerva reached for a set of parchments on the side table. "Moving on to other official matters, I've submitted several permits regarding your estate and the port."

Hadrian straightened immediately. "Really? What kind?"

Minerva handed him one of the documents. "Land reclamation, magical zoning approvals, and structural warding. It's a complicated process, but given the state of the land, and the fact that it is yours, the Ministry has agreed that action needs to be taken. It shouldn't take long for the documents to go through."

Hadrian's eyes skimmed the parchment. A lot of it was dry legal terminology, but he caught key phrases: Restricted magical zones... environmental enchantments... agricultural renewal approvals...

"It's really happening," he murmured.

Minerva's expression softened. "Yes, it is."

He set the parchment down, his mind already racing. "And the cleansing ritual? That's still the first priority, right?"

Minerva nodded, she leaned back, her face contemplative. "We can't begin reconstruction until the corruption is dealt with. I consulted Professor Avery—she specializes in magical history and culture. She believes that nymphs may be the key to this."

Hadrian tilted his head. "Nymphs? Like Duff mentioned?"

Minerva took a slow sip of her tea. "The lands were once thriving, magically and naturally. It's likely that the nymphs who once resided there either fled or were forced into dormancy due to the damage. Professor Avery suggested that, if they can be found, they may have their own means of renewal."

Hadrian absorbed this, mind working. "Duff said they were around."

Minerva nodded. "That's good, we can work on introducing ourselves. From what little we know of their methods, seeds and earth-based rituals are commonly used to purify and restore corrupted land. But we won't know the specifics until we approach them directly."

Hadrian exhaled. "So first, we find them. Then, we negotiate."

Minerva inclined her head. "Precisely."

Hadrian sat back, processing. The land had been left to rot for years, but now... now there was progress.

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything settling between them. Then, Minerva reached forward, gently smoothing down a stray lock of his perpetually messy hair.

"You're doing well, Hadrian," she said quietly. "You should be proud of yourself."

Hadrian looked up at her, something tight in his chest loosening.

"Thanks, Aunt Minnie."

Minerva huffed, but there was warmth in her eyes. "Finish your biscuits before they go cold, you impudent child."

Hadrian laughed.

*

---

The library smelled of aged parchment and ink, the golden glow of enchanted lamps casting flickering shadows over rows of towering shelves. Soft murmurs filled the air, an occasional rustle of turning pages blending into the quiet hum of students at work.

The quartet had claimed their usual table, near the back, along some windows, that gave a fantastic view of the grounds. Hadrian sat at the far end of the table, quill tapping absently against the edge of his Charms textbook as he watched Neville frown at his parchment. Across from them, Hermione was deeply engrossed with a textbook, scribbling notes every few seconds, her script frustratingly perfect, while Padma's fingers drummed anxiously on the spine of a closed book.

She was nervous.

Padma was rarely nervous.

Hadrian's eyes flicked to her in mild concern. "You alright, Padma?"

She hesitated, then exhaled. "Hadrian... I wanted to ask you something."

Across the table, Hermione's quill froze mid-stroke.

Hadrian tilted his head. "Go on."

Padma took a breath, steeling herself. "It's about the MailBooks."

A beat of silence.

Neville glanced between them. Hermione's shoulders stiffened.

Hadrian set his quill down. She hadn't just come out and said what she wanted; she was easing him in, bracing herself. Now he was wary. "What about them?" he ventured.

Padma's fingers curled into her robes. "Parvati asked me if she and Lavender could have a pair."

Hadrian blinked and opened his mouth and then closed it. Hermione, however, had no such problem.

"Padma." Hermione's voice was sharp. "You can't be serious."

"I—"

Hadrian exhaled, already dreading where this conversation was going. "Yeah... I don't know." He started tapping his foot against the table's leg. Neville looked down, noticing and looked up at him, a frown pulling at his face.

Padma bit her lip. "They just want to stay in touch more. We don't always get time together, and—"

"Padma," Hermione cut in, expression pinched, "you know that's not the issue."

Padma's jaw tightened. She wanted to tell the busy haired girl to keep quiet, but she swallowed her retort. It was her own fault for not broaching the subject when she and Hadrian were back in the Ravenclaw tower. Maybe she had wanted a confrontation, a little voice whispered and she felt something sour curl at the pit of her stomach.

Hadrian ran a hand through his hair – his talk with his godmother was just a few days old, her warning still ringing fresh in his head. "You know I don't trust them to be responsible."

"They wouldn't abuse it," Padma said, but her voice lacked its usual certainty.

Hermione scoffed. "You honestly believe that?"

Padma hesitated.

"I know Parvati is your sister, but she's not exactly the most responsible." Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Padma felt a flash of irritation at Hermione's words and scowled; Hermione shifted, swallowing as Padma's gaze fell on her.

Neville looked between the two girls, he swore he could cut the tension between the two, it was so thick "Maybe if they had strict rules?" He looked at Hadrian. "You already tell us not to use them in class."

"It's not about rules, Neville," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "It's whether they'll follow them."

Padma moved her eyes away from Hermione and turned to Hadrian, quietly imploring. "Please."

Hadrian hesitated. She was pulling at him again, in that way only she could—not manipulating, not exactly, but weaving just enough emotion into her voice to make him hesitate.

His gut told him no. But...

Hadrian sighed, rubbing his temple. "This feels like a mistake."

Padma lowered her eyes.

Hermione looked away, irritated.

But Hadrian had already made up his mind.

"Fine," he muttered. "But if this goes wrong, you owe me."

Padma exhaled in relief, but something in her gaze flickered with guilt. Hadrian quickly excused himself, he was done with his homework and needed to get started on the books. Neville quickly followed, shooting both girls an inscrutable look.

Hermione turned to Padma, her eyes accusing. Padma met her gaze, her golden eyes flashing in the dim light. Hermione grimaced but jut her chin out, defiant.

"You shouldn't have asked him that. That wasn't fair." Hermione said lowly.

Padma narrowed her eyes, feeling an uncomfortable heat in her chest slowly creeping up her throat. "It was his choice, he could have said no."

"Could he have?" Hermione leaned forward; eyes narrowed. Padma said nothing and Hermione leaned back and scoffed.

Padma blinked, her eyes were stinging and she could feel her powers pulsing under her skin, a thrum of nervous energy stinging her. Hermione was packing up her books.

Rough worn-out grey Disappointment. Prickly strobing red, Irritation. Slimy milky green, Disdain.

Padma swallowed as she tasted the bitter emotions radiating off the Gryffindor girl. Hermione pulled her bag up made to leave, she stopped and turned to look back at Padma and offered a strained smile.

"I hope I'm wrong though and I'm just worrying about nothing." Hermione offered before disappearing among the bookshelves.

*

---

The empty classroom was dimly lit, the lantern on the desk flickering softly, the soft blue fame casting long shadows on the stone walls. Hermione had said she was trying out a spell and had cast a pale blue flame, a Blue Bell flame. It gave the room a washed out look, leeching the colour from everything. Padma hated it, it made them all look strange and phantom like. Perhaps that was what Hermione was going for. Padma glanced at Hermione; the other girl was sat on a chair, chewing her bottom lip and tapping her wand against her palm. Hadrian was beside Padma herself and stood stiff, his shoulders tense.

There was a soft knock on the door and then Neville stepped in followed by Parvati and Lavender. Neville gave the room a strange look and then turned to Hadrian. Hadrian rolled his eyes and gestured towards Hermione. Neville sighed amused.

Parvati's eyes sparkled as she took in the room; "Oh creepy lighting. Is this your clubhouse or something."

"Not as such, Hermione is just practicing some spells." Hadrian replied tersely.

"Oh, I can't say I don't appreciate the spooky vibe Granger but Samhain is still a few weeks off." Lavender commented. She pulled at her hair, the blond locks looked pale in the eerie light.

"Guys maybe we can move along, it'll be supper soon." Padma nudged Hadrian. Simmering orange Irritation. She picked up from him easily.

"Right." Hadrian sighed and picked up his bag. He pulled out two books and handed them to the girls.

Parvati snatched hers, a gleeful smile on her face. She ran her fingers over the leather-bound MailBook, tracing the delicate rune engravings.

"This is brilliant." Parvati smiled appreciatively at Hadrian. She turned the book over, wondering what its actual colour was in normal lighting.

Lavender, however, hesitated, glancing intently at Hadrian as she received the book. "Are we really allowed to have these?"

Hadrian exhaled, his shoulders slumping noticeably. He ran a hand through his hair. "They aren't public knowledge and..." He glanced at Padma, his green eyes unaffected by the pale light, "I'm not supposed to give out anymore."

"Oh." Parvati's smile dimmed and she looked between Hadrian and Padma. She raised her eyebrows and Padma nodded.

"So I expect you to follow the rules I tell you." Hadrian emphasised. Parvati and Lavender nodded, though there was some hesitation from the former. Hermione snorted from the side.

Hadrian frowned and looked at the bushy haired girl. Hermione flushed, as his reproachful gaze lingered on her; a strange sight in the weird lighting.

"Don't tamper with the matrix." Hadrian pointed at the intricate lines and runes inside the book. Lavender looked at the archaic symbols and pursed her lips.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin to be honest." Lavender chuckled a bit deprecatingly.

"Don't tell people about the books." Hadrian continued, looking particularly at Parvati. The Gryffindor twin looked ready to protest at being singled out but Padma coughed, giving her sister a levelled look. Parvati huffed, muttering under her breath.

Hadrian sighed, this was going on for longer than he wanted; "Finally, do not use them in class. Better not to even bring them to class." He looked between the two girls.

Parvati nodded, her eyes scrunched minutely. "Of course! We will be careful. Now, how do we use them?"

Hadrian gestured for them to open their books own book. "You write something here," he tapped the second page, "and it appears in hers instantly. No owls, no waiting."

He tapped the first page, there was a selection of symbols there, "Your books are already linked, plus to two others – Padma and Hermione's books."

"Excuse me?" Hermione stood up, eyes wide.

Hadrian shrugged not at all bothered, "There's a small pool of books they can connect to. I didn't think you would mind."

"I do mind. You could have asked me first you know." Hermione crossed her arms across her chest.

"Hey, you're not exactly a wonderful conversationalist yourself Granger." Parvati glared at the bushy haired girl.

"See she agrees." Hermione told Hadrian, ignoring the bewildered look on Parvati's face.

"Fine." Hadrian sighed tiredly.

He flicked his hand, his dark wand jumping into it. He gestured first at Parvati's and the Lavender's book and made a complicated gesture.

"Done." He showed them that the symbol for Hermione's book was gone from the registers.

Lavender still looked uncertain. "And... no one else can read it?"

Hadrian shook his head. "Not unless they physically take the book."

Parvati laughed. "Perfect. Instant gossip."

Hadrian gritted his teeth. "It's not for gossip."

Parvati smirked. "It's not not for gossip."

"Vati!" Padma said sharply, frowning at her sister. Parvati raised her arms in apology.

"I was just trying to lighten the mood, sheesh." the older twin muttered.

Hadrian sighed. "Just don't be stupid about it. And for Merlin's sake, not in class."

Parvati saluted. "Got it, boss."

Hadrian wasn't convinced; he shared a glance with Hermione who looked very put off.

*

---

The greenhouse was humid, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh herbs. The Gryffindor second years were sharing the class with the Slytherins. Today, Professor Sprout was going over the different ways one prepared the soil for different plants; today she was talking about mandrakes.

"Now as you know mandrakes like to move about, getting comfortable in their pots." The short dumpy witch said from the front of the class. She gestured to the board where a detailed drawing of an mandrake plant was rendered. She pointed to the plant's stubby legs.

"They can pull themselves out and leave, if they don't like where they are." The professor said.

"Wouldn't that just make things easier professor." Dean Thomas asked leaning forward.

"Oh if only that were the case." Professor Sprout chuckled good naturedly. "Who knows why that would be a bad idea?"

Neville's hand was the first up. The professor smiled, pointing to him.

"The mandrake cry is dangerous, an immature plant's cry can knock someone out for some hours. While a mature plant's cry can prove even fatal." Neville said excitedly. Hermione a few desks away from him gave him a thumbs up, grinning.

"Exactly, ten points Mr Longbottom." The professor praised. "Who can tell me then why we still keep this plant around if it's so dangerous?" She looked at the class. Neville raised his hand again.

"Someone other than Mr Longbottom." She added, a few people chuckled as Neville brought his hand back down.

"Yes Ms Greengrass." The Professor pointed at a slight Slytherin girl sat beside Parvati.

"The Mandrake plant is used in many restorative potions," The blond said strongly. "Particularly for those who have been cursed or transfigured..." The girl trailed off a frown marring her face. She glanced at her desk mate, Parvati seemed to be taking notes – a bit unusual from the Gryffindor girl.

"Excellent, take ten points Ms Greengrass." The professor turned back to the rest of the class and continued her lecture. Greengrass noticed that Parvati was still taking notes, scribbling quickly in her pink leather bound notebook, slight tremors going through her frame.

Parvati: Ugh mandrakes have a face only a mother could love.

Lavender suppressed a snort as she watched Parvati's words appear in her MailBook. She glanced across the room and shared a conspiratory look with her best friend from across the room. She hunched over and scribbled into her pale blue MailBook.

Lavender: Did you see Mandy's hair today? It was practically vibrating. I bet it would go with the mandrake.

Parvati snorted, prompting a glance form her desk mate. Parvati ignored the Slytherin girl.

Parvati: I swear she uses experimental potions on it.

Lavender was about to respond when—

"Miss Brown. Miss Patil."

Both girls froze.

Professor Sprout stood at the front of the greenhouse, her expression firm. "Is there a problem with the class I can help you with?"

Parvati hesitated, sharing a look with Lavender. The blond girl had a panicked look on her face and she glanced down at her desk just long enough for Sprout to notice. With surprising quickness the professor was at Parvati's desk. Parvati tried to brush aside her book but the professor was faster. She snatched the book away and flipped through the pages her eyes widening as she went through it.

Lavender gulped.

"Did you see Mandy's hair today? It was practically vibrating. I bet it would go with the mandrake." The professor read.

Parvati winced at the incredulous look on the professor's face. There was a smattering of snorts and chuckles around the class.

"Gossip and cruel jokes." The professor levelled her with a stern look. "Passing notes in my class." She rounded and faced Lavender. The blond haired Gryffindor squeaked in terror.

"Bring that book over here." The order brooked no argument and Lavender stood up, shaking. She gripped her pale blue book tight, shuffling forward and placed it gently in the professor's outstretched hand.

"You two will be coming with me to the staff room." the professor proclaimed and a collective gasp went through the class. Detention, point deduction; these were all normal – being called to the staff room had never been done, not in any of their classes. Parvati looked at Lavender and knew that her face of horror matched her own. She quickly sank into her seat feeling so many eyes on her. She turned and met furious hazel eyes; Hermione's face was stone.

"I'm sorry." Parvati mouthed.

Hermione sneered and turned away; she hated being right for once. She had told Padma this was a bad idea.

---

"Hiya Mr Potter." The greeting came with a flash of light. Hadrian flinched, moving back, his wand flickering into his hand, glowing dangerously. A soft hand quickly grabbed his arm, lowering it quickly. Soft green Calm, pulsed into him with bits of bright cheeky yellow.

"Dammit Colin, I've told you not to do that?" Hadrian rubbed at his eyes, glaring at the grinning first year Gryffindor.

"Sorry sir. I just saw a moment ya know." the sandy haired boy chuckled sheepishly. "My dad says sometimes you just gotta capture the moment."

"I'll be billing your dad for my Lasik then." He blinked away the yellow spots he could still see.

"Come on Hadrian, Colin is just being a fan." Padma smirked lightly.

"Honestly, that flash of yours is a lethal weapon, maybe tune it down?" Hadrian looked at old camera in Colin's hands.

"I'll be sure to do that for next time Mr Potter sir." Colin saluted.

Padma giggled at the gesture, while Hadrian sighed and took a long suffering stance, "Colin I'm only a year older than you, you don't have to call me Mister."

"Right you are sir." Colin chirped, nodding vigorously. Hadrian groaned, covering his face in his hands.

"You deal with this." He muttered to Padma.

"Colin, don't you have a class to get to? Your friends are waiting for you." Padma gestured to a group of first years watching them from a fair distance. Padma spotted pale blond hair and fiery orange among them. She waved to the two familiar girls.

"Oh yea, you're right Miss Patil. Bye sir." Colin took off towards his friends.

"I better get a copy of all those pictures he keeps taking of me." Hadrian said watching Colin jump into the group of first years, chattering excitedly. He spotted Luna among the group and waved at the quirky Ravenclaw, she smiled wide and waved back. Ginny who was beside her went red in the face.

"Do you think Ron's sister is okay?" he wondered aloud as the two threaded their way through the halls.

"You cannot be that oblivious." Padma said surprised.

"Trust me, I can do my best on that front." Hadrian said dryly.

"You're impossible." she snorted, playfully shoving him. He spun round and flicked her braid.

"Hey, not the hair." she smacked his hand away.

"Why Miss Patil, vain much?" he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"This takes hours to get right." She run a hand through her glossy dark hair. "We can't all get away with unkempt hair." She snarked.

She was right, Hadrian's hair had a tendency to point every whichway even minutes after he ran a comb through it.

"It's a Potter trait, Aunt Minnie reckons it was some sort of botched spell that cursed my bloodline." He said seriously

Padma looked at him for a moment, she blinked, then scoffed, "You know that's ridiculous enough I almost believe it."

Hadrian did the mature thing and stuck her tongue out at her. The two laughed and Padma felt a sense of peace she hadn't known the past few days. This was nice.

"Potter!" A sharp female voice called out. The two second years stopped and turned to look down the hall they had come from.

"Penny?" Hadrian frowned as he saw the sixth-year prefect cut a swathe through the milling students. The older girl came to a stop in touching distance of the two her blue edged robes swishing.

"I've been sent to fetch you to the staff room." Penny said an edge to her voice.

Padma sucked in a breath, she could feel something prickling at the edge of her awareness, something heavy. She looked at Hadrian and he shared her startled look, what had he done?

"I don't understand." Hadrian frowned. "Why do they want me there?"

Penelope shrugged, sending her sleek bob bouncing, her nose scrunched up, "McGonagall wasn't forthcoming on the details." Penny waved him forward and started off. Hadrian gave Padma a final look and followed quickly after the long-legged prefect.

"I will say one thing though, the Deputy looked pretty stiff faced when she told me to get you." Penny's voice drifted back to Padma and with it came a knot of unease. Padma took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

"It could be anything really, no need to panic. Yea, he will be fine." She reassured herself. She looked down at her hands, they were shaking. She grit her teeth, and clenched her hands into fists, Get a grip Patil!

The mass of students was passing her by, a few spared her a few curious glances, standing in the middle of the hall, but most just ignored her.

"Padma!" Hermione came rushing towards her, Neville close at her heels. Padma was startled, Hermione rarely ran; the knot in Padma's stomach tightened. The two were a jumbled mass of emotion, Padma winced as she felt the taste of their combined inner selves. Her senses shied away, as if burned and retreated deeper into herself. The necklace at her neck felt tighter.

"What? What's happened?" Padma turned around fully and flinched. Hermione was close, too close!

Hermione reached for her and Padma tried to shuffle back, to get away – but it was too late.

Neville skid beside her. Hermione grabbed her arm.

The world tipped sideways.

Padma sucked in a breath.

Jagged shocking electric blue Panic.

Shock. Worry. Panic. Hurry. Hurry. Now. Now. Now!

Your fault! Your fault! Your fault!

It crashed into Padma, surging through her meagre defences and she spiralled. Guilt, tar and sticky. Your fault!

No! Stop, stop, stop!

Someone – Hermione, was speaking, quickly, insistent, but Padma couldn't hear her – there was a buzzing in her ear. Her heart – why was her heart beating so fast? Where was she? Why can't she move? Why can't she feel her feet? Why is everything spinning?

"...adma - Padma are you listening to me." Hermione shouted, tightening her grip. Padma gasped and jerked back, her eyes fluttering open. Bright! It was painful. Hermione was too close, her face was too close. Heat bloomed at the hallow of her neck, burning away, clarity came and Padma wrenched herself away, stumbling back. Her hand fumbled at her chest, grasping at her neck seeking her necklace

"Padma, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, voice dipping.

"What?" Padma forced out, her voice breathy. Padma had a sudden awareness, people were staring at them, she could feel their curiosity pressing down on them, on her. She needed to get away, to find her centre.

She could feel Hermione looking at her looked at her strangely, concern radiating from her form. Neville was hovering over Hermione's shoulder, his face flushed from running.

"Come on." Padma gasped out and stumbled towards a room. It was thankfully empty, the furniture covered in large sheets protect it from dust. She leaned against the wall, and sighed as the cool stone seeped into her throbbing head. Neville and Hermione followed her; the two sharing concerned glances at the state of their friend.

"Padma?" Hermione reached out to the brown skinned girl but a quick hand from Padma stopped her.

"Don't. Please." Padma begged. Hermione stopped, freezing in place. Padma was taking deep breaths, her chest heaving, slowly her breath evened out.

"What happened, what did you want to tell me?" Padma pushed up from the wall and looked at the two. Her face was pale and a light sweat had broken out across her brow. Hermione noticed that Padma was clutching at her necklace, the girl had the piece of jewellery in a death grip her knuckles were turning white.

"Padma," Hermione spoke softly, taking a small step forward. "Did you have a panic attack just now."

Padma looked away, biting her lip. She muttered something, Hermione caught the words but couldn't understand the language.

"Hermione, I'll be fine." Padma asserted, her frame straightening.

"But..." Hermione began but Neville grabbed her elbow and squeezed stopping her next words. Padma looked towards the quiet boy, hoping he would tell her.

"Parvati and Lavender got caught passing notes in class, they got sent to the staff room." He spoke quickly.

"Oh." Padma said, her head felt light and her limbs heavy. The knot in her stomach tightened and became a solid heavy mass that fell to the pit of her stomach weighing her down.

"We need to tell Hadrian, work out what to do." Hermione was speaking again but Padma wasn't listening.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could you be so stupid, Padma screamed at herself. You caused this.

"Where's Hadrian?" Hermione finally asked, the question bringing Padma out of her head. Hazel eyes met golden brown and Padma felt like laughing, helplessly and hysterically; Hermione looked so earnest.

"Penelope came and took him to the staff room." Padma said quietly.

Hermione exhaled sharply, her face freezing, "Oh." she managed.

"Shit." Neville summed up how Padma was feeling.

*

---

The Hogwarts staffroom was a warm yet imposing space, lined with aged tomes, enchanted portraits, a large bronze chandelier hung from the ceiling and mismatched chairs gathered around a long curving wooden table. It was also somewhat chaotic, loose parchment was scattered in alcoves along the walls. There was a mug with half-drunk coffee, a record player was squeezed into one corner, its horn belting out soft tones. Cabinets were left half open, supplies peeking out – one particular drawer was moaning and shaking It did offer a wonderful view of the grounds though and from where Hadrian was standing, he could see a number of students enjoying the last light of the afternoon. Yet, the view could not hold his attention, not for long, not when he himself was the centre of attention.

Hadrian stood in the centre, the table curving inwards from him; a smaller table had been placed in the middle of the u-shape and two books placed on top – one pale blue and the other a soft pink. Hadrian tried his best not to fidget, but something cold was prickling at his muscles making him jittery. He tried to catch his godmother's eye but she resolutely refused to look at him, her face a stern closed of mask. He would get no help from that corner.

The door behind him opened, startling Hadrian. Professor Flitwick stepped in, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Apologies for the delay, my class was discussing some rather interesting theory on Illusions." Flitwick chuckled before he noticed Hadrian standing there. His smile dimmed and his moustache twitched, a frown creasing his face. "Ah, right then." He quietly made his way over to his generously raised seat.

The deputy headmistress coughed, getting everyone's attention, "I believe we can begin; the quorum is complete." She spoke clearly but her gaze was fixed on the headmaster.

Dumbledore had been sat quietly; his eyes closed, hands folded in front of him and had almost looked asleep. But when professor McGonagall looked at him, his eyes snapped open, blue eyes sparking with thoughts. He gave a firm nod, "We may begin."

"Very well." McGonagall snapped her gaze to Hadrian and he dipped his gaze, biting his lip. "You may sit Mr Potter." She waved her hand and a chair materialised in front of the desk. Hadrian quickly took his seat, his eyes looking everywhere but in front. He could feel their gaze on him, weighing him, judging him – he felt small. The muscles in his stomach clenched painfully and he tasted something bitter in his mouth. He grimaced and held back a frustrated breath.

"Pamona, if you would." McGonagall began, gesturing to the Head of Hufflepuff.

"Ah yes, thank you." professor Sprout shifted in her seat. "Well, I was teaching the second year Gryffindor-Slytherin class, when I noticed that Ms Patil was unusually focused on taking notes, as was Ms Brown. I thought nothing much of it, perhaps I was a bit thankful, those two don't seem to care much for Herbology, in fact..."

"Perhaps you could stick to the important bits Pamona?" McGonagall admonished quietly.

"Ah yes, sorry." the witch laughed lightly. "I noticed that the girls were giggling, not paying attention to the lecture and well I confronted Ms Patil. She tried to hide it of course but I took her notebook." Here the professor pointed to the pink book, all eyes fell onto the book and consequently Hadrian who tried not to squirm in his seat.

"They appear to be some sort of message books. They act like a pair and the girls were sending messages back and forth, gossiping in my class." Professor Sprout huffed, quite offended by the audacity of the girls.

"Hmm that is quite serious," Professor Flitwick leaned forward. "But where are the girls and what does this have to do with Mr Potter."

"The girls have already been punished, quite adequately." Professor Snape said through thin lips before he tilted his head and set his dark eyes on Hadrian. "Mr Potter is here because he is the cause of all this, the instigator, the inventor of these MailBooks, was it?"

Hadrian swallowed down the lump in his throat before responding. "Yes sir, I call them MailBooks." his voice cracking.

"Truly? How do they work?" Flitwick leaned forward, with a flick of his hand, one of the books, Lavender's, flew into his hands. He spun it around, his long digits tracing the lines of runes. "In broad terms if you could?"

"Well," Hadrian stopped thinking his words through. "I um made a rune matrix," he began slowly, stumbling through his words.

"It allows what is written in one book to be copied and sent to another corresponding matrix. That's the bare bones of it; the rest is just synchronising and control inputs and other bits." He ran a hand through his hair

"Allowing for near seamless instant communication. Fascinating." Flitwick hummed thoughtfully. Hadrian noticed that a few of the other professors showed some interest. The tightness in his chest lightened just a bit.

"I assume you had some input on this project?" Flitwick turned to Babbling, who had been fidgeting in her seat.

"Hmm? Oh! Mostly supervisory, the idea was his and I had minimal input, a few tweaks maybe." Babbling allowed a pleased grin to adorn her face, she directed a proud nod toward Hadrian.

"Perhaps if you had been paying more attention, these toys would not have caused such a disruption." Snape cut in, his cold voice sucking out the positive mood that had threatened to break out.

Babbling bristled and she shook her finger at the potions professor, "Don't go inflating the issue. Honestly it was just one class," she sent an apologetic look toward professor Sprout. "Other than some slight bruised egos, there was very little disruption as you call it."

"Perhaps," Snape drawled. "But only because this was caught early." Snape turned to Hadrian. "Tell me Mr Potter, how many of these devices have you made?"

Hadrian frowned, wondering where this was going. Yet he answered anyway, "Ten so far."

"How many are in circulation and in whose possession?" Snape pressed, his eyes intent.

Hadrian felt a flush of panic and glanced at his godmother; a stern visage stared back at him. Hadrian swallowed, his eyes pleading. The visage cracked and Minerva gave him a subtle nod.

"Eight," he turned back to Snape answering succinctly and rattled off the names of the people in possession of his creations; "including these two right here, the last are with Professors McGonagall and Babbling."

A few eyes turned to look at the deputy headmistress but she remained unaffected and merely met their eyes head on.

"Quite," Snape nodded as if he had confirmed something. "Now imagine if you will, more of these MailBooks, one in every child's hand." Snape's voice held a subtle draw as he painted a mental picture. "Imagine the chaos we would have."

"There is some merit to what professor Snape is saying." Professor Sinastra spoke up. The dark skinned professor was frowning, her face contemplative. "Getting students to concentrate is hard enough without them having a device that would make them look as if they were diligently taking notes when they are doing the exact opposite."

Murmurs of agreement rang out amongst the group.

"While I can appreciate the perspective my colleagues are coming from, I feel the operating word here is potential and it makes me think we are jumping at shadows." Professor Vectors clipped voice asserted. She took a moment to fix her glasses before continuing, "We are neglecting to mention the other uses – the utility of the MailBooks."

"The utility, you say?" professor Sprout asked, while Flitwick sat up straighter.

"Yes," Professor Vector nodded once. "Mr Potter what is the range of your devices?" she asked suddenly.

Hadrian blinked, startled by the question. He wet his dry lips.

"Um I haven't tested that part extensively yet, but the matrix is quite stable and with better materials..." he trailed off in thought. "I designed them so that I could send Padma, um Miss Patil messages while she was in India."

"That far?" Flitwick wondered, smiling broadly.

"We planned to see during Christmas; I am, well I was pretty confident." Hadrian said, a challenging glint in his eye.

"So imagine that, instant communication from near anywhere. No need for a fireplace or powder, just a book and a quill. You need a healer, write it down. You need the aurors, write it down. Do you see where I am going with this." Septima looked around the room.

"One of the reasons muggles had a jump in technology is better communication." Professor Avery added, her eyes gleaming at the possibilities. "If done right, these could change things."

"Perhaps," Snape drawled, "but the issue is not their mechanics or utility. It is their disruptive potential. As the two girls have ably demonstrated."

"That's not fair," Hadrian shot back. "I told them not to use them in class."

Snape arched a brow, his voice turning sharp. "And yet they did. Perhaps next time, you should be more selective in who you entrust with your... creations. It is called being responsible."

Hadrian clenched his jaw shut.

"The issue is about control," Professor Sprout stated, levelling Hadrian with a gaze. "I understand the innovation but if these become widespread without regulation, classes will become... chaotic."

A silence settled.

"I can understand making some provision for regulation." Babbling nodded. "It is only sensible."

"Do you feel like weighing in any time soon headmaster?" McGonagall said suddenly.

Dumbledore had his eyes half open his fingers examining one of the books. Hadrian had not even seen the venerable headmaster summon the book to him. In fact, the headmaster had remained largely passive during the whole discussion, his presence muted. If Hadrian had closed his eyes, he would have never guessed the man was in front of him.

"Hmm." Dumbledore coughed. "I daresay both camps are right." he said slowly, his eyes distant. His gaze sharpened and settled onto Hadrian.

Hadrian felt his heart skip a beat as the full force of the old wizard's gaze fell on him. Dumbledore's blue eyes were dark, more navy than sky, their depths glimmering. Hadrian could feel something pressing all around him, not crushing just enveloping him so completely he had no room to squirm. Then like a switch had been flipped, everything went back to normal and Hadrian could breathe again.

"These MailBooks are certainly not going to be stuffed back into the metaphorical closet and forgotten and I would hate for Hogwarts to begin to censure brilliant ideas." The old man stroked his beard thoughtfully. Nobody said anything, Hadrian didn't think he could hold his breath for so long, he was so quiet, not wanting to interrupt the powerful wizard.

"I can imagine a time, not so long ago, that these could have proved invaluable." Dumbledore's eyes grew dark and distant, awash in memory.

It struck Hadrian, in that moment, that Dumbledore was old. The headmaster sighed tiredly, a heavy weariness across his frame. Then Dumbledore blinked and the moment passed.

"Let me propose a solution. I believe a localised ward can be constructed in each classroom or laboratory." Dumbledore mused, all previous tension chucked off.

"I see," Flitwick's moustache twitched. "You mean one that would be linked to the books and disable them the moment one enters a classroom." Flitwick said excitedly.

Babbling blinked, her lips pursed as if she was sucking on lemons. "That would be a lot of work." She laughed uneasily.

"I imagine it would be." Dumbledore agreed, looking unbothered. "It would also require an intimate knowledge of the designs used in these books." Dumbledore looked at Hadrian. "Which none of us are privy to, as they are under a patent."

Hadrian looked up, shock clear on his face; he looked at his aunt for confirmation and she offered him a small conspiratory smile and a nod. The papers had gone through, Hadrian internally crowed.

"A fitting punishment then, don't you think professor McGonagall?" the headmaster turned to his silent deputy. "That young Mr Potter design and place the ward in all appropriate rooms."

Minerva considered this.

"That," she said finally, "could work."

"Well, he does have the requisite skill." Babbling muttered, a bit too loudly. She blushed when she noticed that everyone was looking at her. She gave a sheepish smile when she noticed Hadrian's glare. "I will be supervising I suppose?" Babbling.

"Quite right professor." Dumbledore chuckled.

Hadrian grimaced; if he understood Dumbledore right and he was pretty sure he had; then that meant the best place to anchor the wards would be the threshold of the classrooms. He shared a look with professor Babbling, the young professor gave him a helpless shrug. His wrists would be going through the ringer; etching on stone was an annoyingly hard chore. Still, it was better than spending detention with Snape or having his prototypes confiscated

He nodded slowly. "I can adjust the runes for that."

The tension in the room shifted.

McGonagall folded her hands. "That will be it then. A regulation and punishment all in one. Fitting."

"And what of further distribution of these books?" Snape asked, his mouth twisted into a sour expression.

"As I see it, Mr Potter will be too busy with his punishment for the time being." Dumbledore chuckled. "Plus, I imagine he will need time to finish all the tests he wanted and perfect his devices before we can see any mass distribution. We may discuss that when the time comes."

Dumbledore's expression softened slightly. "Your work is remarkable, Hadrian. But brilliance must be tempered with responsibility."

Hadrian nodded, a flush creeping up his neck. He understood, he would be better.

The meeting soon broke, the teachers quickly making excuses and leaving the room. Dumbledore hardly gave him a glance before he left his robes swishing in his wake. A dark looming shape stopped before him and Hadrian looked up at professor Snape.

"I am of the opinion that you got off lightly." The sallow skinned man said quietly, his cold and impersonal presence, chilling Hadrian's spine.

"You've just never had to etch a long sequence of runes into hard stone Severus; its killer on the arms." Professor Babbling's warm presence made itself known by placing a light hand on Hadrian's shoulder.

Professor Snape clearly had more to say, but he stiffened as he saw something over Babbling's shoulder. He gave a final sneer and turned about, and promptly left.

"He's so dramatic for no damned reason." Babbling rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for saving me." Hadrian squinted at the retreating Snape's back.

"Hey it's what mentors do, Snape is all bark." Babbling's smile turned decidedly impish.

Hadrian doubted Snape was just dramatic menace and empty words. There was something unsettling about the potions professor. His furiously beating heart could attest to that.

"I meant more about the meeting than Snape." Hadrian clarified.

"Like I said, it's what mentors do." Babbling shrugged, before abruptly straightening. "But I think you have bigger problems."

"What?" he wondered as his Runes teacher plastered on a n exaggerated smile.

"Professor McGonagall, how are you." Babbling chirped.

"Quite well," McGonagall's voice smoothed over, sending cold fingers down Hadrian's spine. "Allow me to borrow Mr Potter for a few moments."

"Right." Babbling cleared her throat and shuffled away, giving Hadrian a helpless look.

Hadrian turned to his aunt and opened his mouth, "Professor, I..."

McGonagall raised a hand, stopping his words. "Let's have this discussion somewhere private. Come, my office is open."

Hadrian winced but did not protest and followed her. She opened the door to the exit and gestured for him to proceed.

"Hadrian!" A few voices called out the moment he stepped into the hall. He stumbled in surprise and turned to see three familiar faces. Padma, Neville and Hermione had apparently camped outside the room, waiting for him. He wondered if Snape had seen them.

"Hey guys." He offered a small wave and smile that felt decidedly fake on his face. Neville waved back, a small relieved smile on his face.

"What happened?" this came from Hermione, her eyes furtively looking him over. Did she think they had mauled him or something.

He opened his mouth to explain and closed it. How was he supposed to explain, a lot had happened, some of which he didn't completely understand.

He shook his head, "Later." He offered.

Padma shuffled forward, her eyes were puffy, shoulders scrunched inward, her hands playing with the bangles on her wrists. "Hadrian, I..."

"Children," McGonagall's sharp voice cut them off. "It is not time for you to be dallying in the hallways, make your way to the study halls or common rooms."

"But we just..." Hermione started to say and stopped when Hadrian vigorously shook his head.

"Sorry professor, we'll go." Padma dipped her head in apology. She sent a lingering eye towards Hadrian before leaving.

---

The deputy Headmistress' office was familiar to Hadrian, he was a regular visitor, having afternoon tea with his godmother or dropping off assignments. It was a room he had always felt welcome in, a friendly official setting. There was no friendly atmosphere as he sat before the large imposing desk. He had never noticed how much space the desk took up, separating the professor from their visitor. Yet looking at his godmother's green eyes, he felt the physical space had nothing to do with how cold he felt.

They had been sitting in silence for the past five minutes. McGonagall was sorting a sheaf of paper, and marking off things, not saying anything to him, she hadn't looked at him once after he had sat down.

Hadrian shifted, his body felt stiff and uncomfortable. The wood of the chair under him was unyielding.

"I'm sorry." He blurted out, unable to keep it in.

She stopped writing. She let out a long exhale before gently placing the quill down. With slow deliberate action she folded her hands and placed them atop the desk in front of her.

"For what?" She asked, her tone almost casual. "For doing exactly what I asked you not to or for getting caught?"

"I didn't mean for this to happen." Hadrian spoke, the words running over each other. "I made them promise not to use them in class."

"It doesn't work like that." McGonagall shook her head. "Severus, as caustic as he is, had a point. You bear some responsibility."

She picked up her arms and rubbed her temples, letting out a long sigh.

"Did those girls force you give them the books?" She posed.

"What?" Hadrian looked up, his eyes going wide. "No, nobody forced me to. They just asked."

"Really? So you could have said no." She pressed.

"Yes." Hadrian whispered, his eyes finding the grain of the desk far more interesting than the disappointed eyes of his aunt.

"Then why didn't you?" she said softly.

Why hadn't he? He knew, he had known from the moment Padma had asked him. He didn't want to disappoint her. He didn't want to strain their newly fixed friendship. For how long, a small voice asked. How long will you walk around on tiptoes. He felt a thick lump form in his throat and no amount of swallowing was forcing it down.

"I didn't want to disappoint my friends." He chocked out, feeling a prickle in his eyes.

"Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is to say no to your friends."

"What if they don't understand...what if..." he struggled to form the words.

There was a scraping sound and he felt her move next to him. A warm hand ran through his messy hair, cradling his head.

"Your friends will always understand. So learn to say no." She pressed his head against her chest. Hadrian sniffed, an ache in his chest pushing to get out.

"Shh. It's okay." She soothed as he grabbed a fistful of her robes and sobbed.

She started to hum, a soft nameless melody and ran her hand across his head, neck and down his back, all the while humming. His sobs turned to hiccups and then quiet sniffles until finally his breath evened out and his body relaxed.

She looked down at him and sighed, the tension in his face had smoothed over in his sleep. Hadrian always seemed like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and for all that he was a brilliant precocious twelve year old, he was at the end of the day just a boy. A tired and emotionally wrung out boy.

With an ease of movement most wouldn't expect she lifted him up and made her way to her private quarters. She would send a message to Filius later. She had a godson to take care of.

---

AN: This is a long chapter I admit but when I was writing it, it just kept going, breaking it off into two parts seemed weird.

The chapter progresses the story especially on the interpersonal side and the MailBooks. Hope you enjoyed it.

Constructive criticism is welcome. Read and Review.

25/02/2025