The fortress loomed against the storm-darkened sky, its jagged spires reaching toward the heavens like the remnants of a forgotten empire. It was a relic of an age long past, a stronghold that had once housed visionaries and revolutionaries—now abandoned to time and shadows. The world had chosen to forget Numengard castle, but within its stone walls, a legacy still burned.
Hadrian moved through the great hall with quiet certainty, his footfalls echoing against the cold stone. The vast chamber, once meant to inspire awe, now served as his training ground. A single flick of his wrist sent blue flames roaring to life across the torches lining the walls, casting flickering light upon the intricate carvings that adorned the high ceilings.
He had grown. Not in height alone, though he was taller now, leaner, his once-soft features sharpened by discipline and understanding. He had grown in power, in control. The magic that had once felt like an unknown force lurking beneath his skin now obeyed him, bending to his will with increasing ease. Spells that had eluded him mere months ago now came as naturally as breathing.
And yet, it wasn't enough.
"Again," came the cool, measured voice of the woman who had set him on this path.
Hadrian exhaled, turning toward her. She stood at the edge of the chamber, arms crossed, silver eyes unreadable. For nearly a year, she had been his guide, his mentor. She never offered praise, only instruction, only expectations that pushed him beyond his limits.
A flick of her fingers sent a jagged stone hurtling toward him. Hadrian reacted instantly, summoning the flames with a thought. The blue fire coiled around his hand, surging forth in a controlled burst that reduced the stone to glowing embers before it could touch him.
The woman tilted her head. "Better," she admitted. "But you hesitated."
Hadrian clenched his jaw. He had felt it too—a split-second delay, a moment's doubt. It wasn't fear. He no longer feared his flames. It was something else.
"Again," he said, bracing himself.
This time, when she moved, the attack came faster. A blur of motion—a conjured spear, streaking toward him like a lightning bolt. He didn't think. He let instinct take over. The air around him crackled with energy as the flames burst forth, twisting in midair to form a barrier. The spear disintegrated upon impact, scattering in a shower of harmless sparks.
For the first time, the woman smiled.
Hadrian straightened, breathing heavily. The fortress had once been a place of royalty, but to him, it had become something else—his crucible. A place where he was reforged, honed into something stronger.
And the world would soon learn what that meant.
The silver instruments on Albus Dumbledore's desk whirred and clicked, their delicate mechanisms adjusting in a futile attempt to track something no longer there. He stood before them, hands folded behind his back, his expression unreadable. The warm glow of his office did little to soothe the quiet tension in his posture.
His mind was elsewhere.
The memory was vivid, as if it had only just happened.
The ruins of Number Four, Privet Drive, still smoldered when he arrived. The air was thick with the acrid scent of charred wood and scorched pavement. Flames had long since died out, leaving behind only blackened wreckage, crumbling walls, and the unmistakable stench of death.
But there was no body.
That, more than anything, unsettled him.
He had bent down, letting his fingers ghost over the scorched earth where the wards should have been. There was no trace of them. No residue, no lingering remnants of protective magic. It was as if they had been devoured, erased from existence.
And in the center of it all—nothing.
No Hadrian.
Not a single sign of where he had gone, or how he had survived.
Dumbledore's fingers tightened behind his back. He had scoured the scene, his sharp eyes searching for any trace of the boy, for any hint of the unnatural power he had always suspected lay dormant within him. But the destruction was too absolute. Even the wards he had placed, powerful and intricate, had failed without resistance.
The flames had not been ordinary.
Even now, standing in his office, far removed from the devastation, he could still hear the whispers of old magic in his mind—magic he had not accounted for.
A force beyond his control had taken Hadrian Potter.
And for the first time in many years, Albus Dumbledore did not know where to look.
The ritual circle was drawn meticulously across the stone floor, ancient runes glowing faintly beneath Hadrian's feet. Selene stood across from him, her silver eyes focused with quiet intensity. The air was thick with power, and the faint scent of burning incense lingered in the atmosphere, preparing Hadrian for what was to come.
Hadrian's gaze remained steady, his heart racing in anticipation. It had been months since he'd first learned of his heritage, of the legacy he carried in his veins. But this moment, this ritual, was the final step. He would now learn the true essence of what his great-grandfather had stood for—what Grindelwald truly desired for the world.
"I am ready," he said, his voice calm but unwavering.
Selene gave him a single nod, then began the incantation. Her hands moved in graceful patterns, and the ancient magic pulsed around them, brightening the runes under his feet. The winds of the ritual seemed to howl in response, though no air stirred in the room.
Images began to flicker, swirling before his eyes. At first, they were disjointed—memories blending and shifting—but then they slowly formed into a singular vision. And there, standing tall before a large, captivated crowd, was Grindelwald.
The air felt charged, and Hadrian's breath caught in his throat. He saw the man clearly now. His great-grandfather. The powerful, charismatic leader who had once attempted to change the world. Grindelwald's presence was imposing, and even in the memory, there was an undeniable pull to his words.
The speech began, and the words rang out in Hadrian's mind as though they were meant for him alone.
"My brothers, my sisters, my friends: the great gift of your applause is not for me... No. It is for yourselves. You came today because of a craving and a knowledge that the old ways serve us no longer. You come today because you crave something new. Something different."
The crowd's murmur quieted as Grindelwald's voice resonated through the space, each word laced with an underlying power. His hands moved as he spoke, gesturing for emphasis, his eyes sweeping over the gathering, acknowledging each face.
"It is said that I hate Les Non-Magiques, The Muggle. The No-Maj. The Can't-Spells. I do not hate them. I do not."
Grindelwald's voice softened, as if offering a profound truth. He spoke with a calm confidence that drew Hadrian in, a certainty that seemed almost impossible to dispute.
"For I do not fight out of hatred. I say the Muggles are not lesser, but other. Not worthless, but of other value. Not disposable, but of a different disposition."
Hadrian's eyes widened as he took in the meaning of the words. This was not a man who sought to destroy. This was a man who believed in a deeper truth, one that went beyond the simple dichotomy of good and evil. Grindelwald's voice surged again with renewed energy.
"Magic blooms only in rare souls. It is granted, to those who live for higher things. Oh, and what a world we could make, for all of humanity… We who live for freedom, for truth. And for love."
The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with the weight of his vision. Hadrian stood frozen, feeling the profound call of them. This was not the man he had been taught to fear. This was not the tyrant that history had painted him to be. This was a man who sought to build, to change, not out of malice, but out of a genuine desire to make the world better—albeit in his own way.
"Do you understand now?" Selene's voice broke through the silence that had enveloped him, but it didn't disrupt the vision. Hadrian stood motionless, absorbing the weight of what he had just seen.
Grindelwald's words continued, each one sharpening Hadrian's understanding of the man's true intent.
"We who are different, who possess the gift of magic, we are the ones with the ability to shape the world. And it is our responsibility to use that gift, not to dominate, not to control—but to lead, to guide. We are the ones who can elevate humanity to its rightful place, not above, not below, but alongside. Magic will not be a secret anymore. We will not be the ones who are silenced."
Grindelwald paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked into the crowd. "I do not seek to rule the world. I seek only to free us all from the shackles that bind us. To give humanity the future it deserves."
The vision began to fade slowly, the final echoes of Grindelwald's words lingering in the air.
"For those who fear change, for those who cannot see the future, I say this: We are the ones who will bring it. We are the ones who will make the world as it should be."
As the vision dissipated, Hadrian stood in the silence, his heart pounding in his chest. The flames within him flickered with the same intensity they always had, but now, they felt different. The weight of his legacy felt different.
Selene's voice, quieter now, came to him from behind. "You see now. He did not seek power for its own sake. He believed in a different future—a future where wizards would lead, but not through domination, not through fear. He believed in freedom. In love. In the ability to change the world."
Hadrian's breath steadied as he absorbed everything, his mind swirling with the implications. He had thought of Grindelwald as a villain—a tyrant who wanted to rule the world. But now, the truth felt more complicated. His great-grandfather had wanted something different—a world where magic and non-magic could coexist, even if the cost of that future had been his own methods.
"I understand," Hadrian whispered, though he wasn't sure he entirely did. The vision of Grindelwald's dream still hung in the air around him, vivid and alive.
Selene placed a hand on his shoulder, her silver eyes reflecting both wisdom and an unspoken sorrow. "You will decide what to do with this knowledge, Hadrian. You are his heir. What path will you choose to walk?"
Hadrian didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked down at the runes beneath his feet, feeling the heat of the flames still burning inside him, still flickering with uncertainty. But he knew one thing for sure—the legacy of Grindelwald was not one of simple villainy. It was one of vision. And that vision was now his to either accept or deny.
It had been a month since Hadrian had seen the memories of Grindelwald's speech, and much had changed in that time. The winds of destiny seemed to be stirring, pushing him closer to the world that had always awaited him. As he sat across from Selene in their usual spot within the fortress, the firelight dancing across the walls, his fingers traced the edge of the Hogwarts letter in his hands, the seal still unbroken.
"You've received your letter," Selene said, her tone unreadable, though there was a hint of something like approval in her gaze.
Hadrian looked up at her, the letter still in his grasp, before setting it down on the stone table between them. "I have," he said, his voice calm but with a quiet intensity beneath it. "I never thought it would come. I expected to remain here for much longer, but I suppose this... this changes things."
Selene tilted her head, studying him. "You've learned what you can here, and yet there is more to be done. The world will need to see you."
Hadrian smirked, the hint of his former confidence returning. "More to be done? To show myself to the world?" He shook his head, leaning back slightly. "It would be far more... effective to weave through the shadows, manipulate, charm my way through Hogwarts. Let them think I'm just another student. Let them underestimate me. In time, I could gather followers without them even knowing who I am."
Selene's eyes narrowed slightly, though she did not appear surprised by his response. "You would choose to hide your power, Hadrian? To play a game of deceit?"
He met her gaze, his voice steady. "It's not about hiding. It's about patience. If I reveal everything now, I risk drawing the wrong attention. And Dumbledore... he's not my ally. He never will be."
"Not yet," Selene said softly, her silver eyes shimmering with a knowing expression. "But Dumbledore is not your enemy. Not yet."
Hadrian leaned forward slightly, his voice low but firm. "Don't be so sure. We both know his obsession with power and control. He'll see me as a threat, whether I show my full hand or not."
Selene remained quiet for a moment, considering his words. "Perhaps," she conceded. "But remember, Hadrian, you are more than a threat. You are a leader in the making. The world will look to you as a symbol. And you must decide how you wish to wield that power."
Hadrian's expression grew serious, his mind turning over the possibilities. "I know what I'm capable of. I'm not going to throw that away. But my approach, my timing... that's something I will control."
Selene nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Then let the game begin."
As Hadrian stood, the letter in his hand, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, he knew that the path he was about to walk would be fraught with danger and challenges. But he also knew that with the power he held, nothing would be beyond his reach.
"Patience," he whispered to himself, a quiet promise. "Patience, and the world will be mine."
Hadrian paused, the weight of his thoughts shifting as he adjusted the letter in his hand. There was a quiet fire within him, one that had been stoked by months of training and understanding the legacy he carried. But he also knew that showing his full power too soon would be a mistake. Patience was key.
Selene stood as well, her silver eyes studying him intently. The flickering firelight cast shadows across her face, her features unreadable as always, yet there was something new in her voice when she spoke again.
"Patience will be your ally in the beginning, Hadrian," she said, her voice steady, yet carrying the weight of experience. "But there will come a time when you can no longer remain in the shadows. There will come a time when you must step into the light and lead—just as Grindelwald did."
Hadrian's brow furrowed as he met her gaze. "Grindelwald didn't exactly thrive in the light," he replied, the memory of his great-grandfather's tragic rise and fall still fresh in his mind. "His ideals may have been noble, but they led him to darkness. His light burned too brightly."
Selene stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "He didn't fail because he stepped into the spotlight. He failed because he lost his way. He lost sight of the greater vision." She paused, her eyes softening ever so slightly. "Grindelwald's purpose was never about domination, Hadrian. It was about liberation. About freeing wizards from the shackles of fear, about elevating both magic and humanity to something greater. His mistakes were not about his leadership; they were about his choices. His vision twisted as he allowed his power to cloud his judgment."
Hadrian mulled over her words, letting them sink in. He had seen Grindelwald's speech—heard his voice in the memories Selene had shown him. There had been truth in those words, a promise of a world where magic and humanity could thrive together. But that truth had been clouded by ambition, by the corrupting nature of unchecked power.
"And you think I'm supposed to take that same path?" Hadrian asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.
"No," Selene replied, her tone firm. "I think you are destined to find your own path, but it will be one that requires you to lead, not hide. You will need to make your presence known when the time comes. You cannot lead from the shadows forever, Hadrian. True power doesn't come from remaining unseen. It comes from stepping into the light and inspiring others to follow. It comes from making your mark on the world, not from manipulating it quietly from the background."
Hadrian took in her words, feeling the weight of the responsibility she was implying. "So, you're telling me to become... a figure like Grindelwald?"
"Not like Grindelwald," Selene said quietly, her gaze hardening slightly. "Better than Grindelwald. You have the potential to lead with clarity of purpose. He was consumed by his own desires and saw his vision only through the lens of control. You, Hadrian, must rise above that. The spotlight is not something to fear. It is the means by which you will change the world."
He considered her words carefully, his mind already starting to spin with the possibilities. He had always known that his power would one day demand attention, but to lead—truly lead—was something that came with its own set of challenges.
"And when will that time come?" Hadrian asked. "When will I be ready?"
Selene's eyes gleamed with an unreadable emotion. "You'll know when it's time. The world will demand it. You will not be able to stay hidden forever."
Hadrian let out a breath, his resolve hardening as he thought about his journey ahead. He had been prepared for this moment, for this conversation. But hearing the weight of Selene's words made the reality of his destiny feel all the more pressing.
"I'm not sure I'm ready to step into the light just yet," he said, his voice laced with determination. "But I'll be ready when the world calls me. And when I do, it will be on my terms."
Selene gave a small, approving nod, her lips curving into a rare smile. "Good. That's the spirit I've been waiting for."
With a final glance at the letter still resting on the table, Hadrian stood, his eyes fixed on the future ahead. The world had yet to see the full extent of his power, but soon enough, he would make them see. Soon enough, the shadows would no longer be enough. The time for leadership—true leadership—was coming.
And Hadrian would be ready.