There seems to be a problem on fanfiction dot net where people cannot access chapters past the fifth one. I have reposted some chapters and tried to fix it and I believe the problem is mostly with people who are not using the app and are trying to read it on the web. You can download the app if it persists after this chapter as well. Also this story is on ao3 (archive of our own) under the same username Gorast, where there are no problems and you can read it there as well. Other than that hope you enjoy the chapter! The recognizable sections belong to J.K. Rowling.

30th of October 1994, Transfiguration Classroom

There was a palpable buzz in the air. Excitement, anticipation—hell, even the usual drudgery of classes felt lighter, almost bearable, as the castle prepared for the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

Adrian could hardly pay attention to anything in his lessons, and judging by the way Terry was doodling broomsticks instead of taking notes in, he wasn't alone. Even Professor McGonagall seemed more forgiving today, barely reprimanding anyone for their lack of focus. The Schools were coming.

Adrian tapped his quill against his parchment, still mentally distracted—not just by the event, but by something else. His mind kept drifting back to his encounter with Rem, the enigmatic figure of ancient magic who had dragged him (literally) into the Chamber of Secrets just yesterday. His muscles still ached slightly from being thrown into a wall during his disastrous attempt at swifting. He hadn't returned yet, not after that, but the experience sat heavily in his mind.

Magic is Might. The phrase had always resonated with him, but now, it held an entirely new weight. He was different. He had always felt it, but now? He knew. And yet, that knowledge came with a burden. A responsibility. Well that and the fact that if he could train with both Rem and Flitwick he could be something great. Maybe even become the next Overlord.

He wanted to go back to the chamber as soon as possible. He had to master swifting. It would not only be an incredibly overpowered ability, but he thought that it would do wonders for his connection with ancient magic. As it is literally surrendering yourself to the threads of ancient magic around you.

Well, the bloody schools were coming today so he couldn't just leave in the afternoon and he had lessons all morning. Shitty timing.

Terry nudged him. "You alive over there?"

Adrian blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Yeah, yeah. Just thinking."

Padma Patil, seated next to him, smirked. "Thinking? You? Unlikely."

Adrian shot her a deadpan look. "Ha ha. So funny. How do you come up with this stuff?"

Before Padma could retort, the bell rang, signalling the early dismissal. Across the classroom, students were already packing up before Professor McGonagall even finished her sentence.

"You are all dismissed early today," she said, not even trying to hide her amusement. "Not that I expect any of you to pay attention for the rest of the evening."

There was a chorus of chair scrapes and hurried footsteps as students rushed out the door, Adrian and his friends included.

They made their way through the castle, dropping off their bags in Ravenclaw Tower before heading down toward the entrance hall, where students were gathering into lines under the guidance of their Heads of House.

The air outside was brisk, the kind of evening that left a slight sting against the skin but wasn't unbearable. The sky had deepened to a dusky blue, and a pale sliver of the moon was already visible over the Forbidden Forest. Students lined up along the grand entrance steps, chattering excitedly as they waited for the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

Adrian stood with Terry, Padma, and Jess near the middle of the Ravenclaw group, arms crossed as he surveyed the growing crowd. The energy was infectious, but his mind wasn't fully there. No matter how much he tried to focus on the moment, his thoughts kept drifting back to Rem, swifting, and the weight of his own power.

And then, of course, there was Durmstrang.

A part of him still wasn't sure how he felt about seeing them again. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to pretend that chapter of his life had never happened. On the other? The idea of facing them again—seeing their reactions, seeing his reaction—set something hot and restless alight in his chest.

Would they recognize him? Would they pretend they didn't? Would he care?

"Reckon they'll come by train?" Terry mused, looking down the long, winding path leading to Hogsmeade.

"That would be so boring," Padma huffed. "If you're a magical school, you don't just arrive—you make an entrance."

"Exactly!" Roger Davies cut in, practically bouncing on his feet. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime moment, yeah? This is history. You lot better be paying attention because you're looking at the next Hogwarts Champion."

Adrian exhaled sharply, unimpressed. "Right, well, as long as you don't get a cramp writing your name down, you might just stand a chance."

Terry smirked. "Or suffer an injury from patting yourself on the back too hard."

Roger waved them off with a dramatic flick of his wrist, utterly unbothered. "Laugh all you want, but when I'm standing on that platform, wand in hand, representing Hogwarts, don't come crawling back to me for autographs."

"Yeah, wouldn't dream of it," Adrian deadpanned.

Before Roger could respond, a loud "Aha!" cut through the crowd.

Adrian turned just in time to see Dumbledore standing at the back of the student body, his sharp gaze focused toward the sky. His eyes twinkled, and with a knowing smile, he announced, "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

A wave of excitement rippled through the students as heads snapped toward the sky.

"There!" someone shouted, pointing beyond the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.

Something large was soaring toward the castle, growing larger by the second.

Adrian's eyes widened slightly as the massive, powder-blue carriage came into view, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses the size of elephants.

"Merlin's beard," Terry muttered. "That's ridiculous."

"That's fantastic," Padma corrected, tilting her head back to watch as the carriage drew closer.

Adrian had to admit, as far as entrances went, this was theatrical.

The carriage descended rapidly, its golden wheels shimmering as it approached the ground. Students instinctively took a step back as the massive horses landed, their hooves kicking up dirt and leaves.

A few people gasped as the carriage bounced slightly on impact before settling.

The emblem on the door gleamed in the evening light—two golden wands crossed, each emitting three stars.

A moment later, the door opened, and a boy in pale blue robes jumped down, fumbling for a moment before unfolding a set of golden steps.

Then, as Adrian's eyes settled on the next figure, he felt his brows raise slightly.

Because the person who stepped out was massive.

She was, quite frankly, one of the largest women Adrian had ever seen. Dressed head to toe in black satin, her olive-skinned face, black, liquid eyes, and imposing stature commanded immediate attention.

Madame Maxime.

The students collectively murmured and gawked, but Adrian just tilted his head slightly, taking in the scene. She looked like the sort of woman who did not tolerate nonsense—which, he supposed, made her fit right in as a headmistress.

Dumbledore clapped, leading the applause as Hogwarts welcomed their guests.

Madame Maxime smiled graciously before stepping forward, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, ever the gentleman, bent slightly to kiss it.

Adrian exchanged a quick glance with Jess, who raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, good for him, I guess?" she whispered.

"Bet McGonagall's got thoughts," Adrian muttered back, smirking.

Their amusement was cut short as Dumbledore gestured toward the castle, inviting the Beauxbatons students inside. As they moved, their shimmering silk robes billowed slightly in the wind, and Adrian noticed several of them shivering in the cold.

"Did no one tell them it's almost winter?" Terry muttered.

Before anyone could answer, a deep, rumbling sound echoed across the grounds.

The shift in energy was instant.

People turned, startled, their eyes scanning the darkness for the source of the noise.

Then Lee Jordan shouted, "The lake! Look at the lake!"

Adrian's breath hitched as his gaze snapped toward the black surface of the water, which was no longer still.

Bubbles formed, growing larger, disturbing the once-placid lake as waves crashed against the shore.

A whirlpool appeared in the centre, as if a giant plug had just been pulled from the bottom.

Then, something began to rise.

At first, it looked like a long, black pole, cutting through the swirling water—but as it emerged further, Adrian saw the rigging.

"It's a ship," he murmured.

Slowly, magnificently, the skeletal form of a ship emerged from the water. The misty lights glowing from its portholes gave it an almost ghostly appearance—as if it had just risen from a watery grave.

It glided smoothly toward the shore before coming to a silent, eerie stop. Moments later, the splash of an anchor being thrown down echoed in the air, followed by the unmistakable thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

And then, they began to disembark.

Adrian's heart slammed against his ribs.

Silhouettes passed in front of the ship's lanterns, each large, imposing, draped in thick, fur-lined cloaks. But it wasn't their size that unsettled him.

It was who was among them.

Then, he saw him.

A tall boy, lean and broad-shouldered, his light brown hair illuminated in the torchlight.

Dimitri.

The moment Dimitri's eyes landed on Adrian, he froze.

His expression shifted instantly—from mild curiosity to outright shock.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Adrian felt his hands curl into fists, a deep, buried anger surging within him. Dimitri wasn't just an old schoolmate. He wasn't just a reminder of Durmstrang.

He was one of the people who had turned on him.

Adrian's jaw clenched, but before the moment could spiral, he felt a hand on his arm.

Jess.

"You okay there?" she murmured, her voice steady, grounding.

Adrian inhaled sharply. No, he was not okay. But he exhaled, nodding once.

"No," he admitted quietly.

Then, after a beat, he added, "But thank you."

Jess gave him a small, reassuring smile.

Terry and Padma exchanged a look before glancing at Adrian, then at Jess.

Neither of them said a word, but the knowing smirks on their faces said enough.

Jess narrowed her eyes at them.

"Oh, fuck off, you two," she muttered.

As Durmstrang's students moved toward the castle, Adrian's gaze lingered on Dimitri, who still looked like he had seen a ghost.

Adrian's lips curled slightly.

That's right you bastard. I'm here.

People were disembarking; their silhouettes cut through the glow of the lanterns from the ship's portholes. Adrian could make out their broad frames, their hulking figures draped in thick fur-lined cloaks that rippled slightly in the evening breeze.

As they moved closer, stepping onto the damp grass, Adrian recognized the familiar posture, the disciplined walk. Their boots thudded against the earth with the kind of silent precision he knew all too well.

Then, the man leading them stepped forward.

Sleek, silver furs draped elegantly over his shoulders, his white hair glinting under the lantern light. He moved with an effortless confidence, his smile easy, his manner warm—if you weren't paying close enough attention. But Adrian knew better.

That was no warm smile.

"Dumbledore!" Karkaroff called out, his voice carrying easily across the grounds as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

Adrian felt his stomach twist.

His fingers twitched toward his wand, an instinct more than anything. He wasn't expecting the man to recognize him—no, Karkaroff knew exactly where Adrian was. He was the one who made sure of it.

But Adrian wasn't a naive first-year anymore. He knew what kind of man Karkaroff was. He played the part of a polite guest, but his mind was always calculating, always assessing. He had no doubt Karkaroff had already taken stock of the Hogwarts students, of the potential competitors, of the power in the room.

Dumbledore, ever unshaken, returned the greeting with a polite nod. "Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff."

Karkaroff chuckled, stepping into the light. He was thin, tall—almost the same height as Dumbledore—but his goatee, neatly trimmed, did nothing to hide his rather weak chin. His yellowed teeth flashed in an easy grin, but his eyes, sharp and cold, never softened.

"Dear old Hogwarts," Karkaroff said, glancing up at the castle, his expression twisting into something almost reminiscent. "How good it is to be here, how good…"

Then, his attention shifted to the students behind him. His lips curled upward as he turned slightly. "Viktor, come along, into the warmth… you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold."

Murmurs spread like wildfire through the student body. Even Adrian could hear the sharp intake of breath from multiple directions.

"Harry—it's Krum!"

The words weren't meant for him, but Adrian caught them anyway. The excitement was obvious in the Gryffindors' voices. He barely had time to glance over and see Ron Weasley's face practically split in half with excitement before movement from the Durmstrang students caught his attention again.

Karkaroff beckoned someone forward.

Viktor Krum.

Adrian had seen Krum before, back at Durmstrang, but only in passing. He wasn't in Adrian's year, and the famous Seeker had always been more of a shadow at school—quiet, reserved, intense. The kind of person who had nothing to prove because his talent spoke for itself.

Now, as Krum stepped forward, he was met with a cacophony of whispers and stares. Some people were craning their necks just to get a better look at him. Sixth-year girls were already scrambling through their pockets, clearly looking for something to get signed.

"Oh, I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me—"

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

Adrian rolled his eyes.

"Okay, yeah, he's a great Quidditch player," he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Terry and Jess to hear. "But this is ridiculous."

Terry smirked. "What, jealous?"

Adrian shot him a look. "Please. If I wanted a crowd of admirers, I'd do something actually impressive."

Jess snorted. "Like what?"

Adrian smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

She gave him a look, unimpressed but amused. Before either of them could say anything else, the students began moving toward the castle, Karkaroff leading Durmstrang's delegation with smooth confidence.

Adrian felt the tension coiling in his stomach again.

Dimitri was still watching him. Not speaking, not moving—just watching.

It made Adrian's blood simmer.

The silence between them was suffocating, but Adrian refused to be the first to speak. If Dimitri wanted to play this game, to stare as if he were looking at something he had long since buried, then fine. Let him.

Adrian lifted his chin slightly, his expression unreadable.

Then, just as the Durmstrang students began moving toward the entrance, Dimitri finally tore his gaze away.

Adrian exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

As they followed the rest of the students into the castle, Adrian cast one last glance back at the Durmstrang group, at Dimitri's retreating figure.

As the crowd funneled into the castle, Adrian felt the shift in atmosphere. The excitement from the Hogwarts students hadn't dulled, but now it was mingled with something else—curiosity, intrigue, and in some cases, outright fawning.

Viktor Krum, the living, breathing Quidditch legend, had taken a seat at the Slytherin table with his fellow Durmstrang students. That alone sent a ripple of energy through the Great Hall, mostly from the Slytherins, who were practically radiating smugness.

Adrian barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he spotted Malfoy practically draping himself over the Durmstrang group, all smiles and sycophantic charm. He was talking to Krum like they were old friends, despite the fact that Krum looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," Adrian muttered under his breath. "I'm sure he's just dying to be best mates with a ferret."

Jess snickered. "I dunno, maybe Krum's into that sort of thing. Some people like their pets."

Adrian smirked, but his attention was drawn back to the Ravenclaw table, where the Beauxbatons students had settled themselves. Their glum expressions and barely-contained shivering weren't exactly the best endorsements for the warmth of the castle.

"They look thrilled to be here," Terry said, raising an eyebrow as he watched a few Beauxbatons students huddle together, still clutching their scarves and shawls.

Padma scoffed. "Honestly, it's not even that cold. What did they think the weather would be like in Scotland?"

"No idea," Adrian muttered, watching as one of the girls, a blonde with a haughty air about her, subtly wrinkled her nose at the plates and goblets in front of her. "But it looks like our hospitality isn't up to their standards."

Jess, following his gaze, smirked. "Think they expect us to start feeding them grapes or something?"

"Probably," Adrian said dryly. "Or at the very least, prepare them a silk-lined throne."

Their laughter was cut short when the last of the staff entered the Great Hall. Filch, in what Adrian assumed was his attempt at looking formal, was shuffling along, adding chairs to the staff table.

Adrian frowned as he noticed something odd.

Four chairs.

He leaned toward Terry. "Why's he putting out four chairs? There are only two extra people."

Terry blinked. "Dunno. Maybe they're expecting extra Ministry officials?"

Adrian hummed in thought but didn't have time to dwell on it as Dumbledore rose to his feet.

A hush fell over the Great Hall almost instantly.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

There was a brief pause.

Then, from the Beauxbatons table, a delicate but unmistakably derisive laugh rang out.

Adrian turned sharply, spotting the blonde girl again—the same one who had looked unimpressed with the table settings. She was whispering something to her companions, her expression the very definition of unimpressed.

Across from him, Padma bristled visibly.

"No one's making you stay," she muttered under her breath.

Adrian smirked. "Brilliant. Maybe say it louder, see if they'll pack up and leave."

Jess elbowed him lightly. "Don't encourage her."

Dumbledore, entirely unfazed, continued. "The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

And just like that, the golden plates filled with food.

A wave of excited chatter spread across the Great Hall as people reached for roast chicken, buttered potatoes, and every possible dish Hogwarts could offer.

Adrian picked up a fork, but he wasn't focused on the meal.

His eyes flicked toward the Durmstrang table—toward Dimitri.

The other boy wasn't looking at him anymore. He was speaking quietly with one of his classmates, his expression carefully neutral. Maybe he was telling other Durmstrang students about him.

A horrible thought occurred to Adrian. What if Dimitri tells people that he had been expelled from Durmstrang?

The weight of it settled over him like a thick, suffocating fog. His reputation at Hogwarts was shaky, but at least no one openly questioned him anymore. If Dimitri spread the truth? He might as well slap a Dark Mark on his arm and start cackling in the halls.

Durmstrang wasn't like Hogwarts. People didn't get expelled from Durmstrang unless they had done something truly terrible.

People would assume the worst.

He could already picture it—the whispers, the sideways glances, the hushed voices just low enough that they thought he wouldn't hear.

"He must've done something awful."
"Only dark wizards get expelled from Durmstrang, right?"
"What if he's dangerous?"

And his friends—what would they think?

Would Terry look at him differently? Would Padma, for all her sharp wit and logical thinking, start second-guessing him? Would Jess…

He glanced at her. She was eating, talking to Terry about something, completely unaware of the storm brewing in his mind. She wouldn't leave. She wouldn't believe whatever rumors spread about him.

But the others? Ravenclaws thrived on information. They loved knowing things that others didn't. And something as juicy as "Adrian Valor, expelled Durmstrang student"…

That would spread like fiendfyre.

His grip on his fork tightened. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips, anger mixing with something colder—something he didn't want to name.

His appetite vanished.

The two remaining empty seats at the staff table had just been filled.

Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, had taken a seat next to Madame Maxime.

"What are they doing here?" Adrian heard Harry Potter's voice somewhere near the Gryffindor table.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" Hermione Granger answered. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

Adrian barely cared. He had seen Bagman before, all flashy smiles and overgrown schoolboy energy. Crouch, on the other hand… well, he looked like a man who hadn't smiled in about twenty years.

He turned his attention to his plate, half-heartedly pushing some potatoes around with his fork.

The feast continued, but Adrian wasn't eating much. His thoughts kept circling back to Dimitri, to the inevitability of what was coming.

Then, at last, Dumbledore rose to his feet again.

A pleasant sort of tension filled the Hall now. Students straightened in their seats, attention sharpening.

"The moment has come," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket—"

"The what?" Adrian heard Harry murmur nearby.

"—just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation—"

A smattering of polite applause followed.

Adrian didn't bother clapping.

"—and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was much louder applause for Bagman, probably because half the students here recognized him from Quidditch. Bagman grinned, giving a jovial wave.

Crouch did not smile.

Adrian eyed him for a moment. His toothbrush moustache and severely parted hair made him look oddly out of place among the Hogwarts staff, standing next to Dumbledore with all the warmth of a stone gargoyle.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word champions, the already attentive crowd sharpened even more. A buzz of excitement rippled through the hall.

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Adrian turned his head as Filch, who had been lurking in a far corner like some kind of crypt keeper, shuffled forward. He was carrying a great wooden chest, encrusted with jewels, looking old enough that it probably had some kind of dark history attached to it.

Murmurs spread through the Hall.

Dennis Creevey, the Gryffindor first-year who had more energy than should be legally allowed, actually stood on his chair to get a better look. Not that it helped much, considering his head still barely reached over the table.

Dumbledore tapped the casket three times with his wand.

The lid creaked open.

Adrian's eyes narrowed slightly as Dumbledore reached inside and pulled out a rough, wooden cup filled to the brim with flickering blue-white flames.

Dumbledore placed it carefully on top of the casket, making sure it was visible to all.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," Dumbledore said. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools."

Adrian exhaled slowly.

Here it was.

The opportunity every single seventh-year in this Hall was about to claw over each other to get.

Dumbledore continued, "To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the Entrance Hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."

The murmur that followed was almost loud enough to drown out the collective groans of every hopeful younger student.

Adrian could practically hear the gears turning in Fred and George Weasley's heads.

"Finally," Dumbledore said, his tone growing more serious, "I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract."

There was a stillness in the Hall now, the weight of those words settling over them.

Dumbledore surveyed the room, making sure the message sank in before speaking again.

"There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet."

Adrian's fingers twitched.

He wasn't seventeen. The Age Line was meant to keep people like him out.

That didn't mean that he wasn't interested though. A chance at eternal glory? Fame and riches? It was enough to make any witch or wizard lose their head.

Dumbledore's final words echoed through the hall:

"Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

The scraping of benches and murmurs of excitement filled the Great Hall as students began rising from their seats. The Hogwarts students were buzzing, their heads full of the Triwizard Tournament, discussing strategies, speculating on who would enter, and making jokes about who would embarrass themselves trying to bypass the Age Line.

Adrian stood up with Terry, Padma, and Jess, their conversation still revolving around Dumbledore's final words. He was only half-listening, his mind still tangled in a web of anxiety. The thought of Dimitri revealing his past loomed over him like a thundercloud.

"D'you reckon Krum's even going to enter?" Terry was saying as they started toward the doors. "He doesn't need the attention, he's already famous."

Padma scoffed. "As if that's ever stopped someone before. If anything, he's probably used to winning. I bet he's in."

Jess, walking beside Adrian, nudged his arm. "You alright? You've been weirdly quiet."

He forced a smirk. "Just contemplating how long it would take before someone tries to bribe the goblet."

Padma snorted. "I give it twenty-four hours before Malfoy starts throwing Galleons at it."

They all laughed, and for a moment, Adrian almost believed he could walk out of here without issue. But as they neared the massive doors of the Great Hall, a cool, measured voice cut through the air.

"Ah, Valor."

His stomach clenched. The hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Karkaroff.

The Durmstrang headmaster stood near the entrance, his pale, cold eyes locked onto Adrian like a predator eyeing something caged. The Durmstrang students flanked him, their expressions unreadable. Some looked bored, others indifferent.

But Dimitri was watching him.

Adrian slowed his steps, instinct screaming at him to keep walking, pretend he hadn't heard. But the hall had already quieted slightly, students turning to glance between them.

He stopped.

Terry, Padma, and Jess halted beside him, exchanging looks.

"I must say," Karkaroff continued, his voice just loud enough for Adrian and those around them to hear, "You look well my boy."

Adrian held his ground, schooling his face into something unreadable. "Professor Karkaroff," he acknowledged, keeping his tone flat.

Karkaroff's thin lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I trust you are… doing well?"

There was no warmth in his words. No real concern. Just a detached politeness, laced with something heavier.

Adrian forced a smirk, tilting his head slightly. "Hogwarts is treating me just fine."

Karkaroff gave a slow nod, his sharp gaze flickering over Adrian's face, assessing, searching. "Good. Very good. I do hope you are—" he paused, as if carefully selecting his words, "—toeing the line, yes?"

Silence stretched between them, cold and sharp.

Adrian clenched his jaw, his pulse hammering against his skin. He knew exactly what Karkaroff was doing. He was reminding him. Reminding him of everything he had left behind, everything that had been taken from him.

Before Adrian could respond, a scoff cut through the moment.

"Come now, sir," a voice said. "Wouldn't want to burden Valor with all those expectations, would we?"

Dimitri.

Adrian turned to face him properly, and the moment their eyes met, something inside him curled tight.

Dimitri stood tall, his expression lazily amused, but there was something pointed beneath the surface.

"It's funny," Dimitri mused, tilting his head slightly, "I always wondered where you ran off to."

"I didn't run," Adrian said, his voice cool, even.

Dimitri hummed, unconvinced. "No, I suppose you didn't. More like… got sent away."

Adrian's fingers twitched.

Terry and Padma exchanged confused glances, sensing the shift in the air.

Jess, standing beside Adrian, crossed her arms. "You got something to say, or are you just wasting everyone's time?"

Dimitri ignored her. His smirk widened, but his eyes darkened with something sharp.

"You didn't tell them, did you?" he said, feigning surprise.

Adrian said nothing.

Dimitri let out a mock sigh, shaking his head. "Tsk, tsk, Valor… Keeping secrets, are we?"

And then, he raised his voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he called out, drawing the attention of the students lingering in the Great Hall. "Did none of you wonder why dear Adrian transferred to Hogwarts so suddenly?"

Adrian's stomach turned to ice.

The Hall quieted. Curious glances turned toward them.

Terry frowned. "What the hell are you on about?"

Dimitri gave a dramatic pause, savoring the moment.

"He was expelled."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

Terry and Padma stiffened beside Adrian. Jess' expression hardened.

"Expelled?" Padma repeated, eyes narrowing.

Dimitri grinned. "Not just expelled. Expelled for using dark magic."

The murmurs grew louder.

Adrian's breathing slowed, but his pulse pounded in his ears.

"Shut the fuck up and stop telling lies you dickhead." Jess defended him.

Dimitri tutted, wagging a finger. "Oh, but it's true. You lot think he's just some poor Durmstrang boy who transferred? No, no. He was kicked out. The great Adrian Valor, disgraced. Didn't he tell you?"

Silence.

Dimitri leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something almost taunting. "You're nothing but a stain on your father's name, Valor."

Adrian didn't react.

He didn't move.

He didn't deny it.

And that was enough.

The whispers exploded around him, spreading like fire in dry grass.

Adrian could hear it all.

"Dark magic?"
"Expelled from Durmstrang?"
"What did he do?"
"Only dangerous people get expelled from Durmstrang…"

His worst fears had unfolded right before him.

And then, in the midst of it all, Adrian looked back at Karkaroff.

The man was still watching.

And for just a fraction of a second—so quick that anyone who wasn't paying attention would've missed it—Karkaroff's lips curled.

Not quite a smile.

But damn close to it.

His friends looked at him with shock in their eyes, searching for any sort of denial from Adrian.

But they didn't find any.

"Its... true. But its not what you think! If you can just let me expla-"

Adrian never got to finish his sentence.

Terry took a step back, his face twisted in something Adrian had never seen before—uncertainty. Padma's expression was unreadable, but her sharp eyes flickered between him and Dimitri, the wheels in her head undoubtedly turning at full speed. Jess, who had been so quick to jump to his defence, was still standing close… but she was quiet now.

The silence was suffocating.

People were still whispering, casting glances in his direction, their curiosity sharpening into something uglier—suspicion.

Then, just as Adrian opened his mouth to speak, Terry exhaled sharply. "You know what? Let's just go."

Padma frowned. "Terry—"

"No," he cut in, shaking his head, his voice quieter now, but still firm. "We should go. This isn't… this isn't our problem."

Something sharp twisted in Adrian's chest.

"Terry, don't—"

But Terry was already walking away, pushing past the crowd of onlookers. Padma hesitated for half a second, eyes darting back to Adrian, but then she turned too, following after him.

Jess was the only one left standing beside him.

For a moment, Adrian thought she would stay. That she would say something, that she would give him a lifeline, something to hold onto in this storm.

Instead, she looked at him—really looked at him.

"Jess," he said quietly, his voice raw, desperate.

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but then, her eyes flickered—just briefly—toward Dimitri, toward Karkaroff, toward the dozens of students still staring, whispering.

And she shook her head.

"I just need… I'll see ya in a bit Adrian."

Adrian felt like he had been punched in the gut.

She turned away.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

The weight of it all crashed over him. The cold, the whispers, the unbearable, gut-wrenching realization that his past had finally caught up to him—and that, in just one night, he had lost everything.

The common room was no better.

People had already heard. News at Hogwarts spread faster than fiendfyre, and the whispers followed him up every stair, through every corridor, all the way to the entrance of Ravenclaw Tower.

He barely remembered answering the riddle at the door. His mind was a storm—anger, grief, humiliation, fear—everything crashing together in a way that made his hands shake.

When he stepped inside, the conversations hushed.

Not completely, but enough that he noticed.

Enough that he felt it.

His housemates—people who had spoken to him just this morning, people he had studied with, laughed with—were staring. Some openly, some pretending to be focused on their books, some whispering behind their hands.

He clenched his fists, pushing forward, walking toward the stairs that led to his dorm. He didn't stop, didn't look at any of them.

Then, just as he reached the steps—

"Adrian."

Jess.

She was standing near the fireplace, and Terry and Padma were with her.

Adrian swallowed, his jaw clenching.

"You came back," he said hoarsely, almost a whisper.

Jess' expression twisted. "Of course I came back, but Adrian… what the hell is going on?"

Terry crossed his arms. "Yeah, because from where we're standing, it looks like you've been lying to us for two months."

Adrian's hands curled into fists. "I didn't lie."

Padma scoffed. "Oh, please."

"I didn't!" His voice was louder now, sharper, his frustration bubbling over. "I just didn't tell you everything."

"Exactly," Terry shot back. "That's lying by omission, mate. You let us think you were just some transfer student who wanted a fresh start. But the whole time—" He exhaled, shaking his head. "Dark magic, Adrian? What the hell were you doing?"

Adrian snapped.

"I WAS DEFENDING MYSELF!" His voice rang through the common room, startling a few nearby students who had been pretending not to listen.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Terry flinched but held his ground. "Against who?"

Adrian's breathing was ragged. His entire body was tense, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap.

"They hated me there," he said, his voice lower now, shaking with restrained emotion. "Durmstrang wasn't Hogwarts. You don't just 'fit in' there. It's power. Strength. If you don't have it, you get trampled. I was a half-blood. Which meant that people there already detested my whole existence."

He took a shaky breath, his hands trembling. "I had to fight to survive. Every single day. And then, one day, I fought back and defended myself properly. I didn't... I didn't use dark magic.. I swear..."

"But they didn't care," Adrian continued, his voice breaking. His fingers curled into his robes as if trying to ground himself. "They saw what I could do, and they called it dark magic. They didn't want me there. Karkaroff didn't want me there. They had their excuse, and they used it."

Jess swallowed hard, glancing at Terry and Padma. Neither of them spoke. Their silence, their refusal to say anything, made something ugly and bitter crawl up Adrian's throat.

"You're believing him?" Adrian's voice rose, raw with disbelief. His eyes burned as they flicked between them. "You're actually believing that cunt Dimitri over me?"

Terry's jaw tightened. "We never said that."

"You didn't have to!" Adrian exploded. "You're looking at me like—like I'm a liar! Like I'm some dark wizard who got caught and ran here to hide! After everything—after two bloody months—you're going to stand here and act like he is the one telling the truth?" His voice cracked slightly, but the fury swallowed the weakness.

Padma flinched but squared her shoulders. "Adrian, we don't know, okay? You never told us anything! You just expected us to accept whatever story you gave us and move on like it was nothing. And now—now we're supposed to just blindly believe you, when you didn't trust us enough to tell us the truth in the first place?"

Adrian let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "That's rich coming from you lot. You know what Durmstrang is like. If I had told you everything from the start, you would've been looking at me exactly the way you are now. Like I'm some monster."

Jess bit her lip but said nothing. Terry averted his gaze.

And that silence—that was the final crack in everything.

Adrian exhaled shakily, his hands still trembling. "You have all betrayed me. Just like Durmstrang." His voice came out hoarse, quiet—but it carried.

Terry flinched. Padma's face twisted with something—regret, maybe—but she didn't refute it. And Jess… Jess looked like she wanted to say something.

For the briefest of moments, Adrian hoped.

But then—

She turned away.

Adrian felt something inside him break.

It wasn't sadness. Not anymore.

It was anger.

Not just at them—at everything.

Every single person he had ever let into his life had betrayed him.

Durmstrang.

His so-called friends.

The air around him felt too thick, too suffocating. He was drowning in it, in the whispers, in the weight of every single stare burning into his back. He clenched his jaw, his fingers digging into his palms until his nails nearly broke skin.

Adrian stormed out of the common room, his breath ragged, his hands still clenched into fists. The walls of Ravenclaw Tower felt suffocating, the weight of their stares pressing down on him like a crushing vice. He needed to move. He needed to get out.

He didn't know where he was going. His feet carried him on instinct, down staircases, through corridors, past students who flinched at the storm in his expression. His so-called fresh start was in ruins. Dimitri had taken it from him. His so-called friends had abandoned him. Just like Durmstrang. Just like always.

The walls blurred past him, but he didn't care where he was going. He just kept walking, the sound of his own footsteps pounding in his ears. And then—

A sudden chill in the air. The dim flickering of torches against damp stone. The scent of mildew and stagnant water. He looked up and froze.

The second-floor girls' lavatory.

Of course.

His grip tightened, nails digging into his palms as he stepped forward. The cracked mirror reflected his disheveled appearance, his storm-grey eyes burning with something dark, something deep. He planted his hands on the sink, his fingers curling around the edge. His breathing hitched.

And then the anger broke.

His knees buckled slightly as a sob wrenched from his throat. He clenched his teeth, willing himself to stop, but it was useless. The weight of everything pressed down on him, dragging him under. Tears spilled down his face as he gripped the sink like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

He had been a fool.

A fool to think he could have friends. A fool to think Hogwarts would be different. A fool to think that the past wouldn't follow him.

He had always been alone.

Always.

From the moment he first stepped into Durmstrang, he had been an outsider. A half-blood among purists. A stray dog among wolves. No matter how hard he fought, no matter how strong he became, it was never enough. They never let him belong. And now, it was happening all over again. Hogwarts wasn't his fresh start. It was just another battlefield where he stood alone.

His sobs grew quieter, his body still shaking as he slowly straightened, his grip on the sink unyielding. The reflection in the mirror blurred, distorted by the flickering torchlight. His tear-streaked face stared back at him, but his eyes... they were different.

Cold.

Sharp.

And then, the shaking stopped. The tears dried, leaving only the hollow emptiness behind.

"They want a dark wizard…" His voice was quiet, hoarse. His expression twisted into something dangerous, something almost amused. "Oh, I'll give them a dark wizard."

His hand moved without thinking, reaching out to the sink. The ancient markings on the porcelain glowed softly under his fingertips, pulsing with that strange, otherworldly energy. The same energy that had led him to Rem. The same energy that had opened the way before.

A rush of wind whipped around him as the world tilted.

And then—

Darkness.

The Chamber of Secrets.

Adrian barely had a second to register the eerie silence, the damp air clinging to his skin, before he threw his head back and roared:

"REM!"

His voice echoed through the cavernous space, reverberating off the ancient walls. His fury cracked like thunder, raw and unfiltered, shaking loose the dust of centuries.

A moment of silence.

And then—

A flicker of movement. A ripple in the air, like the very fabric of reality shifting.

Rem materialized out of thin air, his luminous blue eyes flashing with irritation. "What the bloody fuck are you shouting for, boy?"

Adrian turned to face him, his body thrumming with a determination unlike anything he had felt before uttering those words.

"I need a way to get past Age Lines."

Rem blinked, his ethereal form stilling, watching him closely. Then, slowly, a grin stretched across his face, full of sharp amusement and intrigue.

"Oh?" he purred, tilting his head. "Now that... is interesting."

I'd like to know what you lot think about this chapter. I think its okay in setting up what's to come next but I don't think its my best work. Could have been better but I wanted to get this one out as I am trying to stick to one chapter a week. This is a longer chapter and while his friends reaction may seem a bit too much... I think Adrian not telling them he was expelled could grant this reaction from many people. Especially in England where they had had enough of dark magic from when Voldemort was raining terror on Britain.

I hope you liked it. More plot coming next chapter. Buckle your fucking seatbelts.