Cacoethes

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/23965102.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Harry Potter/Tom
Riddle | Voldemort, Avery Sr./Harry Potter
Character: Theodore Nott, Abraxas Malfoy, Avery Sr. (Harry Potter), Lestrange Sr.
(Harry Potter), Evan Rosier, Mulciber Sr. (Harry Potter), Armando
Dippet, Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, Tom Riddle | Voldemort,
Voldemort (Harry Potter), Greengrass Family (Harry Potter), Horace
Slughorn, Basilisk (Harry Potter), Unspeakable Characters (Harry
Potter), Sanguini (Harry Potter), Gellert Grindelwald, Leonard Spencer-
Moon
Additional Tags: Dark Harry, Time Travel, Slow Burn, Slytherin Harry Potter, The
Deathly Hallows, Hogwarts, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Unforgivable
Curses (Harry Potter), Dark Magic, Rituals, Powerful Harry, Teenage
Tom Riddle, Basilisks, Mentor Dippet, Naive Harry Potter, Theft, Angst,
Macabre, Horror, Nightmares, Torture, Minister for Magic Tom Riddle,
Vampires, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Soul Bond, Unhealthy
Relationships, Mildly Dubious Consent
Series: Part 1 of Masters of Death
Collections: Greats fics currently ongoing, Legacy's Library, HarryTom, god-tier fics,
Completed Subscriptions, Top-Tier Complete Tomarry/Harrymort Fics,
Avidreaders HP completed faves, Best HP FIC that i love, Harry Potter
masterlist - read agains., Completed Masterpieces Across Fandoms,
The Soul Files, Tomarryslash, Favorite HP Fics, Come hither, Tomarry
Stats: Published: 2020-05-02 Completed: 2021-03-05 Chapters: 38/38 Words:
121775

Cacoethes
by IneffableChaos

Summary

After the Sectumsempra incident, Harry runs to the Room of Requirement to get rid of the
Half Blood Prince’s journal. He wants somewhere to hide but when he enters the room, he
is thrown back to 1943 where he struggles with his use of Dark magic, sending him down a
path leading to Tom Riddle.

Notes

Characters and world belong to J.K.Rowling, not me...sadly.

 This is not (of course, because we are dealing with Tom Riddle) a healthy story or
relationship. You are warned.

Enjoy!

See the end of the work for more notes

 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes

Part 1 - Chapters 1-37

Blood. Metallic and tangy, the smell was so strong that he could taste it. It was permeated into his
robes, shoes and every crevice between. Or was it his guilt he could taste? Thick and heavy.

His magic trembled inside of him, even with his wand stashed in his pocket. The use of
Sectumsempra had rattled his very bones. There was a bouncing in his stomach that was a mix of
fear and...something else.

Echoes of his shoes slapping on the stone floor thundered around him. The book in his hands
seemed too heavy. Traitor. What he thought would help him, had destroyed everything. The image
of Draco Malfoy’s bloodied face flashed through his mind. His nemesis, slashed from face to his
stomach, ripped open by a single spell.

Harry skidded to a stop in front of the blank wall. I need somewhere to hide...I need somewhere to
hide…

He could not see Snape like this. His hands were trembling too much, and Snape could rip through
his mind and steal the truth.

There was a shimmer before a door materialised. Harry could have sobbed with relief. He grabbed
the handle and ran inside, closing it with a slam. He rested his sweaty head on the wooden door,
taking in a deep breath to stablise himself.

“Excuse me?”

Harry froze. His back straightened as he turned around, emerald eyes flying open. “Who are you?”
he asked.

It was an elderly man with a long but bushy white beard, brown eyes observing him critically.
“Headmaster Dippet. Who are you ?”

Harry looked around, seeing he was back in the corridor, not in the Room of Requirement. This
was a joke. “Dumbledore is the Headmaster,” he uttered, voice taking on a hoarse note.

The old man made a low hum before raising an eyebrow. “I can assure you that I am the
Headmaster. Professor Dumbledore is our Transfiguration teacher. Now, I recognise all of my
students, and you are not one of them. How did you get into these walls?”

Harry realised there was a wand pointed at him at hip-level. The movement was so subtle he had
not even realised. He allowed his eyes to wander over the man and it felt like cold ice had dripped
down his back. It was the same face that stared at him from a portrait in Dumbledore’s office, a
different cut of robes that was old-fashioned… He then looked back at the door behind him, to see
nothing but a wall.

At Harry’s silence, the wizard continued, “We shall speak in my office.”

To his surprise, Harry was to lead, with Dippet behind with a wand at his back. If Dippet was
Headmaster, this meant that this was either some horrifying nightmare or the Room of
Requirement had deemed the past somewhere safe. His feet led the way down the corridor. Heart
thumping in his chest, he still clutched the Advanced Potion Making book in his arms even though
he felt such anger towards the Half-Blood Prince.

During his journey, he tried to string his thoughts together but he could not get the threads to match
up. He pinched the skin on his wrist to try and prompt him to wake up, but only received sharp
pain in response.

He received a calculating look when he stopped by the gargoyle that protected the Headmaster’s
office.

“ Ad meliora .” With the password, the gargoyle stepped aside, allowing Harry to climb the stairs
up to the office with the other man behind him. “Please sit.”

Harry sat down on a hard-backed chair, unlike the slightly more comfortable ones of Dumbledore’s
office. He shifted, placing his book in his pocket so he could clasp his hands together. The Office
was slightly different, with a range of strange silver hangings from the ceiling that looked like the
runes Hermione studied and less bookshelves.

Dippet sat behind his desk, one hand coming up to stroke his beard. “From my perspective, a boy
appeared in one of Hogwarts hallways in front of my eyes during an afternoon stroll. No one can
apparate within these walls apart from the Headmaster. Would you care to explain yourself?”

Harry swallowed. “What year is this, Sir?”

Those brown eyes narrowed. “What year do you think it is?”

“I know this is in the past, so I know it isn’t…” He paused. “My year is 1997, Sir.”

Headmaster Dippet made a low, thoughtful hum. “You claim that Professor Dumbledore is the
Headmaster, which was my hope for the future. However, dear boy, I do ask that you reveal no
more of the future you claim to be from. How and why you are here is unknown to myself, and
you by the look of things. Hogwarts is a place like no other and just as strange things have
happened before.”

“I need to get back. People are waiting for me...I have a really important...mission,” Harry uttered,
panic seizing him.

“Dear boy, time travel is an unknown quantity. There have been myths over time, but being a
Headmaster does not allow you mysterious magic.” Dippet sighed. “How did you manage this? A
time turner?”

“The Room of Requirement. I wanted somewhere to...be alone for a while.”

Another hum. “I see. The room is one of lost legends. In the first instance, we should return there to
investigate whether we can return you to your time. If that is not possible, we shall have to think of
a solution for the time until we can fix this for you.”

Harry closed his eyes and rested back in the chair. One moment he had used dark magic to
accidently slice Malfoy, and the next he was thrown back in time. Did Hogwarts hate him? Was it
the use of dark magic?

“All right.”
***

Four hours he had spent investigating the wall with the Headmaster. At first, he was determined,
retracing his footsteps and repeating his mantra about wanting a place to hide. Then he changed it,
to plead/demand the room to take him back to his actual time period. It took him just over two
hours to reduce himself to loud pleading, not caring about the other man’s presence behind him.
Luckily, the corridor had been warded to not let anyone else in or observe.

The Headmaster had assisted with spells and with his connection with the castle but nothing. It was
as if Hogwarts had turned its back on Harry.

When the windows became darker, a hand had taken his shoulder and led him back through the
corridors to the Headmaster’s Office.

That was where he sat once more, morose and staring into the delicate cup of tea in his trembling
hands.

“Harry, I believe we must plan for the future as it stands at this moment. Now, from what you have
disclosed, you are in your Sixth Year. I think it is best that you resume your studies with us until
we can find a way to send you back.” Dippet leaned forward over his desk. “However, I will make
you aware that sending you back may be impossible. Then again, you travelling back here is
supposed to be impossible.”

“What year is this?” he asked, brain kicking into motion at the words.

“It is October, 1943.”

Harry took in a deep breath. It had been the beginning of May 1997. He was in Riddle’s time. What
year would the boy be? Had he already killed by now?

“Now, I have something to request of you,” Dippet said. “You are not to speak of your future time
to anyone. You are not to disclose anything that may alter the future in any way. Already your
presence may cause some alterations, and if this is permanent then we have no choice. For that, I
would like you to practice Occlumency with me each evening this week.”

Harry’s mouth twisted. His previous experience with Snape had been torture. “Yes, Sir.”

Dippet stood up and made his way over to a shelf.

Emerald eyes widened behind glasses as the man removed the Sorting Hat. “I have already-.”

The Headmaster silenced him with a hand. “No more. You will be Sorted, otherwise your name
will not register.”

Harry nodded numbly.

“Now, the Potter’s direct relative were the Peverell’s. Your name on the attendee list of Hogwarts
will read as Hadrian Peverell. You are an orphan who had been on the run from Grindelwald after
trying to recruit your mother, a lost niece of Iloanthe Peverell. You need to flesh out the details and
we will work on your story throughout the oncoming weeks. Avoid any talk - you are still coming
to terms with the loss of your mother.” Dippet offered the Sorting Hat.
With his trembling hands, he put his now-cold tea on the desk and took the hat. Harry put it on.

“Strange...my first student who has already foreseen the events to come...Hogwarts welcomes you
back, Mr Peverell. Before I sort you, know that Hogwarts never turns it back on a student. Your
place here was decided by her, to fix...or change...or do nothing - we shall only know with time.”

“Do you know how I can get back?” Harry asked.

Laughter echoed. “Far beyond my powers and knowledge. Now, where to put you…”

“I was in Gryffindor.”

“Hmmm, I can see why.”

“It would probably be easier if I returned there.”

“Strange to see such wonder in a barbaric act.”

Harry choked out a sound at the words. “I didn’t-”

“Loyal, loyal to those that are close to you. Courage… determination...not afraid to take risks.
Interesting. Powerful...and overlooked. You need a home. SLYTHERIN.”

“No, no, no,” Harry repeated, almost fighting the Headmaster in his removal of the hat.

Dippet gave him a strange look as he took the hat back to the shelf. “Slytherin, Mr Peverell.”

Harry could only watch in horror as his robes changed to Slytherin green lining and the House
insignia appeared on his left chest.

“Now, Mr Peverell, as an orphan, I shall send to your dormitory your relevant books and clothing
from our school Hardship Fund. I shall sort out what we will do over the summer holiday, shall it
come that we do not manage to send you back. I want you to see this as home.” Headmaster Dippet
remained standing, stroking his beard. “Your subjects shall shadow a fellow Slytherin’s, so they
can guide you in your gaps. I expect the best from my students. Abraxas Malfoy is a distinguished
student who will show you how it is done in their House.”

Malfoy? It could not get worse. Harry’s stomach clenched as he remembered the blood. The blood
that was dried on his robes. Had the Headmaster seen it? Dippet had not made any reference. His
robes were black so it would hide stains…

“Come along, time for dinner and for you to meet your fellow House.”
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

Harry is 16 at this point, so is of age - just making that note for the future!

Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Food untouched, Harry was frozen in place at the Slytherin table, where Headmaster Dippet had
led him. They had gotten there before staff and the first trickle of students. As if by intuition, Harry
had made a beeline for Gryffindor’s table but a hand on his shoulder steered him to the left table.

Dippet had left him with words that he had been chewing on. ‘ I want your best. You are to use this
time to learn and I expect the best from you. If Hogwarts saw fit to send you here, there has to be a
reason. My help also hinges on your grades. I will not allow one of my students to fall behind. ’

Hermione had always been the one with the books. Harry’s research skills were average at best, in
comparison. His chest ached with longing at the thought of his friends. He had barely seen them in
passing before rushing out to dispose of his evidence.

Now he had to impress Dippet.

More students came in. There were looks in his direction, although there were only five Slytherins
sat on the table - all younger years by the look of them. Harry looked up at the Head table - to see a
range of Professors sitting and conversing with Dippet. Some of them looked in his direction with
curiosity. One had a mix of brown and grey hair, more grey than brown but there was no mistaking
those blue eyes. Professor Dumbledore. But those eyes looked upon him not with the usual kind
expression but one of suspicion.

Dumbledore was the smartest wizard he knew. Maybe he could help? It would be something to
discuss with Dippet when he could.

Harry’s back straightened as an odd sensation ran down his spine. His head turned down the table
and he couldn’t help the sharp ‘fuck’ fall from his lips.

Sliding into the Slytherin table was an all-too familiar face. There was no denying the perfectly
coiffed black hair, and the arrogance that spewed from every pore. The face was schooled into a
neutral expression as another boy gesticulated at a parchment floating between them. Tom Riddle
waved it away and began to pour himself a glass of pumpkin juice. It was hilarious really in - a
macabre way - to see the future megalomaniac drinking such a standard drink.

His fingers skimmed the wand in his pocket. He could end it here. Killing Tom Riddle would save
his parents and countless others. Though he doubted he could pull it off in a hall full of powerful
wizards like Dumbledore.

Harry snapped his hand away from his wand as his thoughts ground to a halt. When had killing
been the first logical conclusion? This Tom Riddle was not the snake-faced villain...yet. How far
had the boy gone?
Brown eyes connected with his across the table. Harry frowned, looking down at his untouched
potatoes and meat. His fingers moved up to his scar, where there was a slight tingle. No pain. Not
the lancing heat that seared into his brain.

There was a loud clearing of the throat that drew a lot of the student body to look over to the
teacher’s table.

Harry sighed, rubbing his right temple.

“Dear students, as a lot of you may notice, we are joined tonight by a new student. Mr Hadrian
Peverell has joined Slytherin as a Sixth Year student. I am sure we will all make him feel welcome,
especially during these hard times,” Dippet said, voice carrying across all of the tables. “Enjoy
your meal.”

The silence soon gave way to whispering but it was not before long that dinner began to resume.

Harry kept his head low, pulling his fork through the mashed potato in order to keep his hands
busy. Just hours ago he had been thinking about Ginny, wandering the corridor until he heard a
sobbing… Malfoy. He had been about to use the Cruciatus on Harry. Harry had no choice but to
react. Snape had said Malfoy would be fine, but the fury that had flashed in those dark eyes…

“Mr Peverell...Mr Malfoy, could you follow me please boys.”

Harry’s head rose after a clearing of the throat. Inwardly, he cursed himself at already slipping up.
A new name was going to be one of the hardest things to get used to.

The Headmaster was giving him a stern look, whilst a boy with white blonde hair had already
stood. Lucius Malfoy’s father. His hair was straight and down to his shoulder, regal face schooled
into a neutral mask as cool, blue eyes ran over Harry as he stood.

Dippet marched down the Great Hall, both boys trailing after him. Harry did not chance a look at
Riddle, his mind too confused and tired to deal with this additional problem. Both Malfoy and him
walked in silence, the blonde slightly ahead.

They followed the Headmaster down the corridor and back up to his office. Harry was weary of the
place already.

“Mr Malfoy, may I introduce you to Mr Peverell.”

The blonde boy, who sat on a chair to the right hand side, inclined his head forward in a nod.
“Peverell - I thought the name had died out.”

“Mr Peverell and his mother had been...travelling Europe. With her death, he was sent here to
study. And that is what I want your help with.” Dippet stroked his beard. “His formal education is
severely lacking, and I want you to bring him up to speed with our standards and the standards
Slytherin expects of its housemates. He shall be shadowing your timetable.”

Harry glowered at the Headmaster at the reference of his education severely lacking, even if it did
fit with the story they had crafted.

“Yes, Sir.”

“His belongings have been moved to your dormitory. Mr Peverell has classes with me each evening
for the next week that he needs to attend after dinner, so I can go over the details of his prior
education.” Dippet gave a stern look at Harry, who had not dropped his glower. “You are both
excused.”

Malfoy led the way out. He stopped as the gargoyle moved back into position. “Abraxas Malfoy.”
He held out a hand.

Harry stiffened. He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry did not take it . If he had taken
Draco Malfoy’s hand, what would have happened? One rejection shaped the future...or past Harry
found himself in.

His cheeks flushed as his hand trembled as it took the other boy’s. The pale hand was warm,
gripping him in a tight shake. “Hadrian Peverell.”

“Has the Headmaster given you a tour?” The hand withdrew and Abraxas began to walk, Harry
quickly falling into step.

“Yes,” he lied.

“There is no particular map of Hogwarts. She has a life of her own...secret passageways and
allsorts of forgotten rooms,” Abraxas explained smoothly. “Even Headmaster Dippet does not
know most of them. We Slytherins do look after our own, so try and stick with the people I
introduce you to.”

Harry stopped walking, all colour draining from his face. He had been sorted into Slytherin and
would be living in the same House as Voldemort. The reality crashed upon him, suffocating and
terrifying.

“Hadrian?”

Emerald eyes blinked behind glasses. “Sorry, just...a lot.”

Those cool blue eyes studied him. “Grindelwald?”

“What?”

Abraxas shrugged. “Obviously. The Peverell’s are old-blood, powerful figures. With your mother
and you ‘travelling’ around Europe? Grindelwald tried to recruit her.”

Harry forced his brain to move. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Understandable.” They started to walk again. “I am sorry about your loss.”

He swallowed hard, giving a small nod.

“We will need to set up a studying timetable to catch you up. I hope you like libraries.” Abraxas
gave him a smile. “In Slytherin, our Head of House has very high expectations. If you want to meet
the right people, Professor Slughorn will make those connections...if you are a favourite of his.”

The Slug Club...where Tom Riddle would get the answers about horcruxes from Slughorn. Given
that it was impossible to tell what time of year Riddle did it, it could have already happened. But
how could he stop it all? He had Riddle here, in the castle, before he became Voldemort. Had
Myrtle been killed yet? Had Hogwarts sent him here to stop it...or to watch and learn?

“You will be staying in our Sixth year dormitory. There is a spare bed as our previous housemate
Percy was killed last year, mother found the Muggle war and Wizard war too much and murdered
her whole family.” Abraxas gave him a sad look. “Percy was a bit timid at the best of times for a
Slytherin but his own mother? Anyway...the boys are interesting characters.”

I bet they are , Harry thought darkly. In all of this, he had forgotten about the Muggle war that was
also raging on. In his time, these people were just memories, people who once lived. The boy
beside him would die. Besides, he had never seen or heard of Abraxas Malfoy. What had happened
to him?

“Any hobbies?”

Harry blinked. “Uh...I like quidditch.”

“Which position?”

“I don’t mind...but I usually play Seeker.”

Abraxas gave him a grin, which startled Harry. Had he ever seen Draco smile - one that wasn’t a
smirk? “Brilliant news. Avery is abysmal but we can’t get anyone to replace him. Riddle has the
right build, but he refuses.”

The thought of a young Voldemort on a broom was a sickening image. Too normal. Too sane. “I
need to focus on my studies first,” Harry said, not wanting his name to become too familiar in this
time period. “Dippet is rather…”

“Intense?” Malfoy chuckled. “He is fair though. The Headmaster expects the best from all of us
and does not play favourites. Not like some. You should watch out for Professor Dumbledore, the
Transfiguration teacher. Any excuse to take points from Slytherin. It drives Riddle insane.”

That did not sound like Dumbledore at all. The twinkling blue eyes and grandfatherly way… Harry
allowed his thoughts to trail off. As much as he could kid himself, it was not as if everyone was
invited to Dumbledore’s Office for meetings about Voldemort. He had never given much thought
from outside of that bubble. Dumbledore had stripped Slytherin’s House Cup victory in First Year.
But that was because of Slytherin and its history of Death Eaters. And he was going to be living
alongside them.

He could not see Dumbledore being some Snape-like figure in the past. Clearly, the Slytherins
would hate a man who opposed Dark magic.

As they had taken the staircases, it had filled Harry with a bit of positivity that some things were
the same. It was as if the castle never changed. As they passed pupils, there were differences -
fashionable ones. Different haircuts, attitudes towards gender etc.

Abraxas gestured to the door at the bottom, by the Entrance Hall. Harry took in a deep breath and
entered. The temperature plummeted as he descended into the belly of the dungeons. It was not as
if the walls were slimy or there was a strange dripping sound. In fact, it was eerily beautiful,
lanterns overhead casting light on the stone staircase.

Harry emerged on a corridor with a bare stretch of wall. Abraxas came to stand by his side, the
smell of vanilla wafting over with him. A small smile tugged the side of his lips. “Each common
room has its own password. Ours for this week is: Snakewood.” At Harry’s quizzical look,
Abraxas added, “Salazar Slytherin’s wand was made from it.”

Malfoy approached the wall and said the password. Much like Diagon Alley, the bricks started to
come apart, but formed an elegant archway where a slight green light poured out onto the stone.

Taking in a breath so deep his lungs protested, Harry followed Abraxas inside the snake’s den.
Chapter End Notes

Next chapter: Riddle examines the newcomer

 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes

Little longer than the last chapters. I thank you all for the lovely comments, they really
help with motivation in these unreal times!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Somehow, the common room was more beautiful than he remembered. Then again, the last time he
had been here was his second year at Hogwarts, where he had been in a rush to get information
from Malfoy before the polyjuice potion ran out.

Now he looked upon the place with more mature eyes.

Emerald light filtered in from a glass cupola overhead, where there were strange movements. As he
squinted, he could make out fish swimming and what looked like seaweed. There were rumours
that the Slytherin common room was submerged in the Great Lake. It turned out that the rumours
were true. How he had missed that in his first visit, he really did not know.

Panels of glass all around the circular common room also led out to the body of water. The stone of
the room shimmered in the light, especially where lanterns were hanging from tall arches. There
were an assortment of dark leather sofas and desks for studying. Pairs of students played wizard’s
chess on small plinths, but the majority of them had their heads down at a few large circular desks
as they studied. It was beautiful in the same way that Grimmauld Place was. Ancient, oozing pure-
blood. Not like the haphazard comfort of Gryffindor tower.

“Most of our roommates will not be back just yet. They will be in the library,” Abraxas explained.
He walked down the small set of steps, black polished shoes making little noise. “This is our
common room. Professor Slughorn holds a meeting twice a week, just after dinner. All Sytherins
are expected to attend and he will meet with you twice during each term to check your progress.”

Harry chewed the inside of his lip as he followed the strangely-welcoming Malfoy. Professor
McGonagall didn’t catch up or hold common room meetings. Did the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs
have this? Was it a tradition that Snape held as well?

Abraxas smiled at the confusion etched on the raven-haired boy’s face. “A lot of us are from
pureblood families. They all know Professor Slughorn and he keeps tabs on our welfare and
education to stay in contact with our parents.” The smile grew slightly darker at the edges.
“Though probably more connection-building from his end.”

You are talented, famous, and powerful — everything Horace values. Professor Slughorn is going
to try to collect you, Harry. You would be his crowning jewel. Dumbledore’s words rang in his
mind. In his time, Harry Potter was exactly that. A pawn put in place to secure the ex-Potions
Professor. Now here, in the past, Hadrian Peverell was a nobody. It would allow him to sink under
the radar, bide his time until Dippet and he found a way back.

Abraxas took him through an archway to a corridor with a strip of glass on the curved ceiling to
show more of the Lake. Harry remembered being in those cold depths in his fourth year, the faces
of the merfolk…
“This is us.” There was a snake on the door, slithering across the wood as if it were alive and
trapped inside. “The password is ‘Parseltongue’.”

At the mention of the word, the snake coiled up into a circle before the door swung open, allowing
both of them inside. It was quite similar to the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, eight beds were in a
circle, each with their individual areas. The frames were made of a dark wood, green and silver
hangings from the four poster beds.

“You have the bed between me and Riddle.” Abraxas pointed to the bed that was neatly made, no
trinkets or belongings out. Just a medium sized chest sat at the foot of his new bed.

“Riddle?” the word left his mouth in a whisper before he could stop it. The horror washed over
him.

Abraxas was not looking at him, but walking over to his bed - next to Harry’s - and opening his
trunk. “Yes.” The blonde took a piece of parchment and a quill out, closing his trunk afterwards.
“Let’s go back to the common room and run down what you know so I can help you catch up.”

Harry shifted. “That’s really not necessary.”

An eyebrow rose as the boy turned towards him. “It is entirely necessary. You have been out of
education for who knows how long and at Slytherin, we aim for the best. Come.”

All he wanted was to crawl in that bed, draw the curtains and hope desperately for Hogwarts to
send him back to where he belonged. His teeth clenched, holding back a sigh, as he once more
followed Abraxas.

Inside the common room, they took a corner of comfortable chairs. Harry took one of the single
leather chairs, wincing at the squeak it gave. The fire was burning close to where they sat.

Abraxas took his wand out and murmured a spell at the parchment, which hovered in the air before
him with the quill poised ready. Much like Rita Skeeter. “Let us start with Avifors .”

“Yes.”

Two hours later, they had covered up to Sixth Year Transfiguration, where there were just a small
number of gaps. Potions were impeccable, although Harry admitted that it was not a strong area of
his. Charms was strong, again a few he had not heard of. History of Magic was appalling; Abraxas
had made a remark that the classes were very boring but it was necessary. Astronomy was
passable. They were about to move onto Defense against the Dark Arts but a group of boys
descended onto the chairs around them.

“First day and Abraxas has you working? Tough.” A dark haired boy grinned. “Antonin Dolohov.”
He held out a hand across the space.

Harry blinked. He was shattered from the endless thinking that Malfoy was making him do.
Dolohov was a known Death Eater. Sometimes he found it hard to believe Draco Malfoy was one,
let alone these friendly boys. They would massacre many in the future. The first of Voldemort’s
minions.

Harry bit back his emotions. “Hadrian Peverell.” He shook Antonin’s hand.

They went around with introductions. There was a boy with strawberry blonde hair and a petulant
face - Dorian Mulciber. Elias Nott had shaggy black hair that was slicked back away from his
broad face. Silas Lestrange (Bellatrix’s grandfather) had wavy dark brown hair and intense dark
eyes that seemed to burrow into Harry’s skull. The last boy had dirty blonde hair that was pushed
back from his handsome face - Cassius Avery.

“So, what was it like on the run from Grindelwald?” Nott asked, leaning forward so that his elbows
rested on his knees.

Mulciber whacked Lestrange on the leg with his book. “Don’t be a dolt. His mother just died.”

“What? We all know that’s the story.” Lestrange frowned, rubbing his leg.

“Was he after the mother...or the son?” a smooth voice drifted through.

Harry’s whole body screamed with the want to run . His scar tingled again, more of a warm
sensation than the splitting agony he was used to. He forced his eyes to rise to meet dark brown.
The boy was every bit of the Tom Riddle that Harry met in his Second Year in the Chamber of
Secrets, down to the curl on his forehead. Suddenly, he remembered that he was staring at a master
of legitimacy. Whether that was a skill Tom Riddle knew already or not, he was not willing to take
a chance.

He averted his eyes.

The boys became silent around him. Most of them had their heads bowed slightly, or if not looking
up at Riddle with respectful faces.

Harry stood. “It has been a long day. Thank you Abraxas.” Without waiting, he whisked off to the
dormitory.

Once inside, he drew in a deep breath and basked in the silence of the room. Could he do this? The
murderer of his parents would be sleeping in the bed beside him. One spell and it would all be
over...his parents would live. Riddle would be asleep. He would be vulnerable.

Horrified at the dark thoughts, Harry went over to his trunk and looked over what Riddle had
sourced him. Elegant clothing - standard - lots of black trousers and a variety of shirts. A couple of
blazers, some dated underwear that were quite high up the hips and a pile of his necessary books,
with parchment and quills.

Now he had to learn to be Slytherin. Head low, nothing to make him worthy of changing any of
history.

***

Sleep had evaded him most of the night, dipping in and out of nightmares and glad that he had put
up a silencing charm. Tom Riddle had been in the bed next to him. He was in Slytherin. It was
1943.

Usually, Harry and Ron would roll out of bed, quickly shower and then go down to breakfast
where Hermione was already sitting. Often they were very late; Ron was a terrible procrastinator in
the morning. Early mornings meant nothing to Harry, especially given what living at Privet Drive
was like.

So, Harry had gotten out of bed before all of the other boys, showering at speed before heading
down to the Great Hall. He had detoured, going through the still empty corridors until he emerged
outside. There was an autumnal mist that shrouded a lot of the castle from view but his heart ached
at the sight. It was home, but at this moment he felt alone and rejected from its usually warm
embrace.

Harry found a bench and sat down, gathering his timetable out of his robe pocket. It was crammed,
with very little independent study. He would have to think productively on how he would conduct
his own research on top of Dippet’s classes and Malfoy’s intense focus on catching him up.

His appetite was basically at zero. With History of Magic first - with Binns of course - it would be
easy to not attend. He just got lost. Binns had no clue anyway. There were rumours that even when
he was alive, he was just as exciting as he was dead.

After taking in a gulp of cool air, Harry stood and made his way to the library. There was a slow
trickle of students making his way over to the Great Hall. A fair few eyes lingered on him but he
ignored them.

“Can I help you, Sir?”

He jumped at the voice as soon as he entered the library. A woman stood over a small pile of old
books, wearing light blue robes. She had tightly curled hair about her face and must have been in
her fifties.

“Sorry, I have catching up to do. I’m the new student...Hadrian Peverell,” he uttered, shifting on
his feet uncomfortably.

“Breakfast?”

“I, uh...I’m really not hungry.”

She gave him a strange look before giving a nod. “Do not make a habit of missing the first meal,
Mr Peverell.”

As her head went down to continue her work, Harry began scouring the bookshelves. There were
so many books. All the spines of the books seemed to blur after a short time. He had to study a
good few shelves more than twice. More than once he eyed the Restricted Section. Surely Dippet
would allow him access to conduct his research. It was something to chase up with the man later.

Harry found a promising, newish looing book with the title: The Trouble with Time . He had settled
down into a chair, flicking through the pages. There were lots of different stories of possible time
travellers. One stood out. Eloise Mintumble had been experimenting with time travel for the
Ministry in 1899 when she had been transported back to the 1400s. When they brought her back,
she aged five decades despite only being in the past five days. Some of her relatives disappeared - a
process they dubbed ‘un-born’. There had been research done by a Professor Croaker. Perhaps
Harry could write to him.

“Hadrian.”

He closed his eyes and breathed a curse at the Headmaster’s voice.

“You are late to your class.”

Harry sighed and looked at the man. Today he wore navy robes with a visible silver waistcoat
underneath. A small, old fashioned silver pocket watch dangled from a pocket inside the man’s
robes.
“I found some information.”

Dippet strode over and snatched the book from Hadrian’s hands, ignoring the boy’s protests. “You
are not to speak of this outside my Office,” the man warned. He looked at the cover of the book. “I
will take you to Professor Binns.” The Headmaster pocketed the book.

“I don’t have any time to actually research anything,” Harry complained as they navigated out of
the library.

“We will discuss this later. For now, you are to attend class.”

Harry hung his head as Dippet marched him through empty corridors until they arrived at Binns’
door.

“I expect you to be present at breakfast each morning.” Dippet pushed the door open.

Binns took no notice. He was alive - flushed skin and all, but that same monotonous voice droned
over the pupils sat there. Harry decided there and then that Hogwarts hated him. It sent him back to
be a pupil alongside his parent’s murderer, and he had to continue to sit through more of Binns’
droning.

There was one spare space to sit.

Harry refused to move. Dippet pushed him inside. He let out a gasp as the momentum carried him
into the classroom, drawing more attention. The door slammed shut.

The steady droning at the front of the classroom stopped. “Ah, Mr Peverell, glad you found your
way. Please, have a seat beside Mr Riddle.”

Harry’s movements were wooden as he forced himself to walk over. He slid into the desk, sitting
precariously on the edge of the bench, the warm tingle back on his scar.

Binns continued his stream of information. Something about Veela hierarchies. At least it wasn’t
about more Goblin wars.

Emerald eyes slid to where pale, elegant fingers were writing notes on a long piece of parchment.
Riddle was not listening to the Professor at all, but had a book in front of him. The boy was making
his own notes. On what? From where he sat, it was too difficult to read but he saw some of the
small diagrams of some kind of runes he remembered seeing in Hermione’s Ancient Runes work.

The lesson went on...and on...and on. Harry saw that all of his Housemates were working on their
own pieces, books open and heads down like they were recording what Binns was saying. They
were with Ravenclaws, who also were working hard. The absolute opposite to the Gryffindor
approach.

By the end, his buttocks ached from where it had uncomfortably straddled the side of the bench.
Binns disappeared into his office promptly after, probably to have a snooze.

“Hadrian.” Abraxas approached. “Did you get lost?”

Harry gave a nod. “I woke up really early, and I needed a walk to clear my head.”

“Abraxas,” interjected a smooth voice. “Leave us.”

“No.” The word flew from his lips. Harry flushed as the Slytherins gave him an incredulous look.
 “I cannot be late again,” he lied. Still, he did not look at Riddle.

“There is a short break between our lessons.”

Harry began to walk, eyes on the escape, but cool fingers took his wrist, halting his motions. A
choked gasp escaped him as a strange warmth gathered in his head and chest. This was definitely
different. Emerald eyes dropped down to the hand and the remaining air left him. On that pale
hand, a thick gold ring sat there, a black shiny stone in the center with a strange triangle symbol
etched into it. He had already killed his father, grandfather and grandmother .

“Let go of me,” he breathed.

When that hand tightened, he looked up into Tom Riddle’s face. The other boy looked at him with
a mixture of confusion and something else - interest maybe? Harry swallowed the bile that rose in
his throat.

There was the sound of people leaving, until it was just Riddle and him left.

“Who are you?” Riddle whispered.

“Hadrian Peverell,” he uttered, his wrist hurting with the tight grip the other boy had him in. “I will
ask you once more to let me go.”

“Or what?” Tom Riddle sneered, leaning his head down so there were mere centimeters between
their faces. Before Harry could retort, cinnamon eyes lifted to the scar, which was itching now
under his ruffled hair. “A curse scar?”

“No!” Harry gasped.

Riddle flew back into the desk, releasing Harry as the raven haired boy’s magic reacted violently.
Harry ran out of the classroom before the other boy could react. What had he done?

Chapter End Notes

What did you think?!

 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

Thank you all for your lovely comments!

I struggled a little with this chapter - just wanted to get it up, and if there are any
errors, please say. I will review it properly tomorrow.

Enjoy!

“What is your issue with Tom?”

Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead as Avery dropped the newt’s eyes into the bubbling
cauldron. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The potion turned a thick grey and both boys started to finely slice some knotgrass on their
respective boards. Inside the classroom, the heat was stuffy, reducing most of the students to
remove their outer robes. Harry rolled his sleeves up and returned to cutting.

“So, are you a pureblood?”

He sighed. “Half-blood.”

There was the sound of a cleared throat behind them, but Harry focused on his cutting. A small
silence hung between the boys for a moment. Avery finally gave a hum. “Your mother, was she a
witch?”

Harry chewed his bottom lip. The lie was painful. He never really knew his mother. She wasn’t
even a distant memory, but simply reduced to a few moving photographs and stories.

“Yes.”

It would go with the story - how could Harry know so much about the magical world if he was on
the run with a muggle? It was an answer he had rehearsed during the night between nightmares.
Being in Slytherin, blood purity would be a sure subject to come up.

Avery placed down his knife and added his selection of cut knotgrass into the cauldron. He gave it
one counter-clockwise stir. Harry then added his in, with a clockwise stir. The surface of the potion
stilled for a heartbeat before simmering once more. Now time to wait before adding the next steps.

“It must be hard...losing her and moving here to a new school,” Avery said quietly, as they both sat
on the bench next to each other, recording their actions on their parchment.

Harry nodded, making a noise of affirmation in the back of his throat.

“A lot of us have lost someone.” Avery’s elegant scrawl made Harry’s look animalistic. “Here you
could have a fresh start, make something of yourself. Your lineage is noble and your name should
carry strength despite being half-blood. Just a word of advice though, whatever you have against
Riddle, you need to end it now. Don’t make an enemy of Tom Riddle.”
“Is that a threat?”

Avery gave a dry chuckle. “Just some friendly advice.” He peered over the side of the cauldron.
“You must have had a good tutor in potions.”

Harry raised an eyebrow to himself, lips quirking up in amusement. “My tutor hated my guts.”

“Well, sometimes we work best under pressure.” Avery shrugged. “Abraxas told us that you were
into quidditch...a seeker. You have the right build. Thinking about trying out?”

“I want to catch up on everything first.”

“Fair enough.” Avery leaned over and took Harry’s parchment, despite the protest from him. Blue
eyes studied his notes. “You need to re-write these and make it neater. If you want good marks for
this, you also need to work on your phrasing. Make it concise.”

Harry muttered a ‘thank you’ and then scanned over the scrawl. Once he read through them, he
could see the errors and inconsistencies. No wonder Snape hated his essays. He barely managed to
write them in time, let alone look over them first. Ron had looked over his work a few times, but
only to copy down information.

He still had ten minutes before adding the next steps. Harry took another piece of parchment and
re-drafted his notes that Professor Slughorn had requested of them at the end. This time, he took
more time on making his writing more legible and by the end, he had something that looked and
read a lot better.

Avery gave him a smile. “Much better.”

For the rest of the lesson, Harry made an effort to follow the Slytherin’s advice. By the end he was
shocked to see how different it looked. It was not Hermione’s standard, but much better than his
usual submissions. The potion went well, even without the Half Blood Prince’s book, which was
now stashed away in his trunk. He avoided the left hand side of the class, positioning his body
away so he did not have to look at Tom Riddle.

“Cassius, thank you for your help,” Harry said, as they decanted the potion into vials.

The boy gave him a shy smile. “I am glad it helped, Hadrian.”

Professor Slughorn took in their parchments, dismissing them once he had them in his hands.
Potions had been a double lesson, and his hunger had grown. He left with Avery, Abraxas and Silas
Lestrange, feeling a little lighter in step.

“I’m thinking about asking Druella to Hogsmeade,” Lestrange said, giving all three of them a wink
with his crazed eyes.

Abraxas laughed. “Druella Lazenby? Are you mad?”

Lestrange paced a few steps in front of them as they strolled through the dungeon, walking
backwards so he could see the boys. “Since coming back from summer, have you seen her? Come
on Cassius, you know what I mean.”

“Not my type,” Cassius replied, a slight curl to his lip.

“Well, do you think she’ll say yes?”

“Stairs,” Abraxas said.

Silas turned around before his ankles hit the bottom of the stairs. They strode up the staircase and
up to the Entrance Hall where the students were filing into the Great Hall. The rich scents of bread,
meat and fruit stretched into the air and stirred up Harry’s hunger further.

“Do you think so?”

“What?” Abraxas asked.

Silas released a frustrated sound. “Druella!”

“Just ask her,” came the monotonous reply. “If she says no, you could always ask Eileen Prince.”

At Abraxas’ words, the boys broke into a fit of muffled laughs as they entered the hall. Harry
blinked, the cogs in his brain turning. Eileen Prince ? Maybe she had something to do with the
Half-Blood Prince. The surname was strange enough, if it was a play on a name. It was either that
or someone had an ego the size of a giant. Maybe Hermione had been right about the book after all.
It was dangerous. Look what it had done to Malfoy. The last time he got mixed up with a book, it
had ended up being part of Riddle. He should have learnt from his previous mistake. Now this
seemed to be his punishment.

***

Lunch had been a mostly pleasant affair. There had been some speculation on where Tom Riddle
was, by his friends, but it was short lived. They had been joined by Mulciber and Dolohov half
way through and all of them had engaged on the topic of quidditch. Apparently, there was a match
at the weekend between Slytherin and Gryffindor and the rivalry was just the same in this period of
time. All of them had informed Harry of how obnoxious and arrogant the Gryffindors were,
pointing out a few students - some with names he knew and some he didn’t. He had to keep neutral,
keeping his irritation away for the sake of his cover.

After that, there had been Care of Magical Creatures with Kettleburn. They had been studying
Moke and their many magical uses.

Once the day was over and dinner was done (Tom Riddle missing from last lesson and dinner) he
had returned to Dippet’s office.

“Now, Mr Peverell, we will start your occlumency lessons straight away.” Dippet observed as
Harry winced. “You have had them before?”

“Yes. My teacher despised me and it was awful.”

“Nevertheless, with the current worries around Grindelwald and his forces rising, it is best we keep
your secrets of the future to a minimum.”

“Won’t you see them? You will see them in my mind.”

Dippet stroked his beard, eyes fixed on him. “And you trust me with them?”

Harry shifted, emerald eyes roaming around the familiar walls and unfamiliar decorations. “You
are the Headmaster.”

“And you think that means you can trust me?”

The lump in his throat was hard to swallow. He wanted to say ‘of course’ but the look the older
wizard was giving him was screaming that was the wrong answer. How much did he know about
Dippet? Little to nothing. How much did he know about Dumbledore?

“You must have either been a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff,” Dippet breathed, shaking his head.
“Remember Hadrian, everyone has their own agenda. When it comes time to actively practice
Occlumency then we will make an Unbreakable Vow that whatever I hear or see, shall not be
passed on to anyone else without your permission. For now, we need to work on clearing your
mind. How well do you fare under mind magic?”

“Like the Imperius ? I can fight it off,” he replied.

The Headmaster’s eyes wavered to the boy’s curse scar before humming. “A very strong skill. The
first two nights, I want you to use my Office to clear your mind. Until we have that basic step, we
can go no further.”

Harry pulled a face. “Clear my mind? I’m not very good at that, Sir.” He adjusted his glasses on
the bridge of his nose.

“Why do you wear those? You are awfully young.”

“What? My glasses? I’ve always had them.”

Dippet made another sound before rummaging in a drawer. “I have nothing against spectacles,
apart from that they leave a witch or wizard highly impaired in any conflict if they are broken.” He
drew out a vial, pushing it across the table. “Take this before bed. Tomorrow your eyes will ache,
but leave your glasses off.”

“There is a cure?” Harry took the potion with a smile that hid a lot of his annoyance. Annoyance at
who? Why had no one ever mentioned it? When had he seen a student with glasses?

“I cannot promise your eyesight will not deteriorate with age and there may become a time you will
have to wear your spectacles again. Tomorrow you have a medical examination with Healer
Roberts in the Infirmary, as standard practice when new students join us.”

Harry chewed his bottom lip. So many things had changed with Dumbledore’s tenure as
Headmaster. Since when had students received medical examinations? Or, he should really ask
when they stopped having them. Maybe the scars and bruises would have been spotted and maybe,
just maybe…

“Hadrian?”

He blinked.

“Go sit in the corner.” Dippet waved over to a plush set of pillows set out by a bookcase. “What
your tutor should have gone through is that in order to clear your mind, you have to come to a
certain peace with yourself. You have to let go of things that are not in your control and not your
responsibility. Do not dwell on the past, live in the present.”

Harry stood and gave the man a droll look. “Very funny.” When he received a nonchalant shrug, he
walked over to the pillows and sat. Dippet started to read an old book, jotting down notes in the
margins every so often.

Giving a slight huff, Harry rested back against the stone wall, the smell of the nearby books
wafting up to his nose. He allowed his eyes to drift closed. Everything was a jumble - an
amalgamation of different strings of thoughts, some in knots and some drifting loose ends. Coming
to peace with himself appeared impossible. Here, in the past, he was a nobody. Harry Potter, the
boy-who-lived did not exist yet. There was nobody to tell him what his next steps were.

Harry’s breath caught.

There was no one to give him directions...or orders. Dippet was unlike Dumbledore.

Dumbledore…

In the future, Dumbledore was a wizened man, with power and knowledge. But it was Dippet’s
words that repeated in the back of his head: ‘ And that means you can trust me’ ? In a few words,
he had been made to question everything. Dumbledore was a grandfatherly figure who supported
him and gave him advice. Or orders. Harry was a soldier in the war - the Chosen One. Sixteen
years old. He expected to die. A sixteen year old wizard against Voldemort? Regardless of the
prophecy, it was ridiculous.

It always felt like Dumbledore knew something he did not.

Everything was different now. There were no expectations upon him apart from to study and do
well. Just like a normal sixteen-year-old.

He released a breath he did not realise he had been holding.

Harry Potter did not exist here. He fell into the jumble of his thoughts.

“Hadrian?”

His eyes cracked open, blinking multiple times to clear away the fog. “Yes, Sir?”

“It is time for you to head back to your dormitory.” Dippet did not look up, dipping his quill in ink
before writing something on his book. “Tomorrow, same time please.”

Hadrian stood up, knees protesting. How long had he been there? A clock on the desk revealed that
it was half an hour before curfew. He muttered a ‘thank you’ before taking the vial on the desk,
and heading downstairs.

He felt in a slight daze as he walked down the many staircases, which were quite empty of
students. The corridors of Hogwarts were a familiar maze, before he descended into the dungeons
and into the Slytherin common room. In a world of his own, he walked through, not taking
anything in.

“Hadrian.”

He stopped. Tom Riddle sat alone in the common room, on a wing-backed chair in front of the
burning fire. The flames threw amber light across the boy’s handsome features. His long, pale
fingers closed the book that was on his lap.

“Please, sit down.”

At the silky, soft voice, Hadrian swallowed. “I’m tired.”

“I wish to...apologise.” That hand gestured to the chairs around him.

There was no way that he was going to obey Tom Riddle’s wishes. “I will stand thanks.”

Something flickered in those cinnamon eyes before his lips curled into a smile. “I believe we have
gotten off on the wrong foot.” He stood and walked over.

Hadrian stood his ground, chin rising a little as Riddle came closer. Magic seemed to cling to the
future-Dark Lord, its tendrils wrapping around him and trying to pull him in… The boy was taller
than him by just under a head.

A hand was offered to him. “Tom Riddle.”

Once more he was taken back to that moment with Draco Malfoy... Hadrian took the hand. It was
surprisingly warm, unlike the other day. But he could feel the ring press against his fingers. His
magic gave a jolt as the tingling in his scar grew. Emerald eyes widened as he looked up into
confused brown eyes.

Hadrian withdrew his hand, stepping back. His cheeks were flushed with colour. “I need to go to
bed.” He hurried out, rubbing his hand on his robes as he entered the quiet dormitory and headed
straight to the bathroom. Sleep, sleep was what he needed...
 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

Bit quicker update today! I hope you all enjoy and have a good weekend!

I thank you for all your comments, and I love the feedback - it really does spur me on
to write a quicker chapter (and I am not alone in the journey!).

Leaning on the edge of his desk, facing the class, Dumbledore spoke in a steady stream about India
and its broad history of Transfiguration. All that accompanied was the scratch of quills on
parchment as the class dutifully took notes. Hadrian had been scheduled to miss the lesson, but his
appointment with the Healer had been moved to Saturday due to a Second year Potions incident.

Hadrian looked up every now and then from his work, to sneak a look at the future Headmaster.
There were differences, like the auburn hair that was streaked with grey - much shorter than it was
in the future. His purple robes were accompanied by a bright yellow handkerchief poking out of the
pocket.

“...and one of the most famous aspects of Transfiguration in India is the Snake Summons Spell.
Serpentsortia . Often used in the streets of India to draw in tourists for financial reasons but if one
reads carefully, ancient manuscripts from Egypt suggest that there was a similar spell used by our
wizard ancestors in that part of the world. Mr Malfoy?”

Abraxas cleared his throat. “Could the snakes conjured not injure people?”

“Could Fienfyre not injure or kill? A summoned snake is much like a summoned fire. Yes, it can
injure and kill. Ms Greengrass?”

A blonde Slytherin girl sat up straighter in her chair. “Is this not exactly like the Bird Summoning
Spell we learnt about last week?”

“Exactly, five points to Slytherin.” Dumbledore’s blue eyes swept over the class, before lingering
on Tom Riddle, who was sitting by himself with his head down as he concentrated on writing.
“Although snakes are more dangerous.”

Hadrian cocked his head to the side, watching the interaction and the subtly aimed comment. There
was a sudden tightening of Riddle’s shoulders to show that he had perfectly understood the
Professor’s words.

“Mr Wood?”

The Ravenclaw pulled down his raised hand. “Can’t some wizards talk to snakes?”

Dumbledore hummed. “Yes, yes they can. A very dark gift, said to descend straight from Salazar
Slytherin himself. An ancient Greek wizard named Herpo the Foul was one of the first to breed a
basilisk and descend into deep, Dark magic.”

Hadrian looked down as Dumbledore’s eyes moved to him. As a master Legilimens, it was
dangerous to look the other man directly where his thoughts could be read.
“For the workshop today, we will be conjuring snakes using the spell serpensortia under careful
conditions. It is a very dangerous spell and as Defense against the Dark Arts requires, we need to
learn how to counter it. As this is a Transfiguration spell, it falls under my tutelage.”

Hadrian felt his hand rise before he fully understood what he was doing.

“Mr Peverell?”

He shifted in his seat. “Who decides on what a dangerous spell is? Surely conjuring a snake is no
worse than levitating someone over a bridge using a levitation charm?”

“Levitation charms cannot lift a person, Mr Peverell.”

“I know the levitation charms lift the clothes, and not the person but a spell taught to First years
can be equally dangerous. You can still hurt a person by levitating the clothes they are in.”

“Well, Mr Peverell,” Dumbledore replied, voice tighter than it was before, “luckily that is a very
rare circumstance indeed.”

“Rare or not, it could be used to kill - exactly like the venom of a snake.”

There was a hush across the classroom.

Dumbledore’s lips pursed. “Interesting thoughts Mr Peverell, but clearly someone has to be very
Dark to kill someone in such a way. A very rare circumstance. Meanwhile, a snake contains venom
that can directly kill. Why else would someone conjure one?”

“Whilst I agree that a snake can kill, it really is no different to a lot of the spells we are taught. At
least you can counter it if you know the counter spell, like we are taught. If you are in a full body-
bind curse that we learn early on, then you cannot counter it. You die if the caster wants you to...as
you are utterly helpless. How is that any different to venom?”

Green eyes flickered to see Riddle openly staring at him.

“We should resume the class,” Dumbledore dismissed.

“Snakes are just animals, Professor Dumbledore. Summoned birds could be equally-”

“Ten points from Slytherin for trying to detract from the teaching.” Dumbledore stood up, raising
his eyebrows at the sudden chatter of the class. “Now, the counter for the serpensortia spell is
vipera evanesca . You are to try the spell and counter with your wand the first time, and then you
will move onto trying to cast both of them non-verbally.”

Hadrian’s temper simmered at Dumbledore, his knuckles whitening. They had been simple
questions. An older, more mature Dumbledore would have taken his questions and answered them.
He would have been patient and heard Harry out. But it wasn’t like that here. Here, Dumbledore
did not know him. Here, he was just another Slytherin.

His classmates stood from their desks and moved into the part of the classroom that was open for
casting magic. Dumbledore had set up translucent boxes that they were to cast in, for safety
reasons.

Hadrian moved to the back of the room, furthest from Dumbledore. He was not surprised to see
Riddle following him, setting up next to him. However, he ignored the boy, still annoyed at the
closing down of his questions. Ever since Dippet’s questioning, it had spurred something on in
him. He would have never thought to question Albus Dumbledore.

“Serpentsortia,” he murmured. A beautiful adder appeared in his box, tongue flitting out between
its teeth as it looked at him. “ Vipera evanesca .” It disintegrated.

Something touched his leg.

Hadrian looked down to see a long snake starting a journey up his leg, thick head arching back to
look at him as its body undulated around his limb. It reminded him of the friendly snake in the zoo
that he let loose.

“ Do not bite ,” came a smooth instruction next to Hadrian. Parseltongue.

The snake’s head moved, taking in Riddle before continuing to wrap around Hadrian’s body.
Hadrian reached down, running his fingers over the slick scales of the summoned creature. It was a
muddy brown in colour, yellow eyes vivid and searching.

“You are not afraid, Hadrian?”

The voice was too close, the tingle in his scar too warm. He shook his head as he looked at the
snake. “No.”

Suddenly, the snake disappeared. Hadrian jolted at the sudden lightness of his being. He turned, to
see Riddle give him a look unlike any other before the boy turned on his heel and returned to his
desk. Riddle was writing furiously and Dumbledore all but ignored him, probably due to the
Professor laughing along with a group of three Ravenclaws.

Hadrian frowned. He then returned to his box, performing the spell non-verbally after a few
attempts. Before he had ended up in the past, all of his Professors were encouraging them to
perform non-verbal spells. Harry had soon picked up that it was all about the motive and
concentration. This spell was simple but his aim was wandless magic. He just had to master the
non-verbal first.

The rest of the class were managing the spells, a few succeeding - like Hadrian - to complete it
non-verbally. Dumbledore brought it to a close and they resumed working at their desks to
document their learning.

***

“Have you tried to tame this?”

Hadrian flushed as the girl played with his hair. Adelia Greengrass sat on the arm of his chair.
“Yes, it doesn’t want to be tamed.” He tried pulling his head away but it only made her giggle.

“I quite like it,” Abraxas commented. “Windswept.” He moved his rook, trapping Hadrian’s pawn.

Dorian Mulciber snorted from where he was sitting, proofreading over Silas Lestrange’s Charms
essay. “Windswept? It has a life of its own.”

“Hadrian, do you fancy going to Hogsmeade tomorrow with me?” Adelia asked. She was beautiful,
she really was. In a classic way, with blonde hair wrapped elegantly around her head in fashionable
rolls and pale skin that glowed. Ginny had barely been a passing thought since the last couple of
days events and it shocked him a little by how much he did not mind.

“I have some work to do in the library,” he replied, moving his knight to counter Abraxas. “I am
sorry.”

Adelia sighed. “Only here a couple of days and already buried in the library. If you change your
mind, just let me know.” She leaned down to give him a brush of her lips on his cheek.

The guys stared after her from the corner of the common room as she flounced back to her group of
friends.

“You dolt,” Antonin breathed, whacking Hadrian’s head with his letter as he passed, to sit with the
boys. “You turned down Adelia Greengrass? For the library?”

Hadrian rolled his eyes, wincing as Abraxas moved his queen, smashing his knight to pieces. It had
already been a long evening, going to Dippet’s office after dinner to try and clear his mind.
Although it was getting easier, he still had a lot of work to do. His homework from the Headmaster
was to practice in different areas of the castle - to work on suddenly clearing his mind. They were
going to break from the class for the weekend and resume Monday. In the last half an hour, both
Dippet and he had crafted more of his backstory. As the Peverells were long dead, it was easy to
create a flimsy story around secret relationships. Dippet had warned him about saying too much,
not to overcompensate.

Riddle was missing. Once more, the boy had disappeared after dinner.

Hadrian was concerned. What if Riddle was already constructing his first horcrux? Well, if he was,
it wasn’t as if he could stop him. It would disrupt the timeline.

At Silas’ laugh at Antonin’s comment, Hadrian threw him a look. “And I suppose you asked
Druella?”

Silas flushed a deep pink. “No - I was - I mean…” he trailed off, his blush deepening.

The boys laughed. Hadrian grinned.

“Hey, can we talk about how you pissed off Dumbledore?” Lestrange said, desperately trying to
change the subject away from his failed romantic venture. “He was completely backed into a
corner. And it makes a change that it wasn’t Tom for once.”

Cassius Avery looked up from his book. “Dumbledore hates us Slytherins; it’s no surprise he found
a way to take points from a new snake.”

“Yeah, but trying to force Dumbles to justify the dangers of Light and Dark magic. It was
glorious,” Silas breathed, his dark eyes gleaming.

Hadrian frowned. “That wasn’t what I was doing. I was questioning the logic.”

Abraxas sat back in his chair, sipping his goblet of pumpkin juice. “But that was exactly what you
were doing, Hadrian. I think the questioning of the logic behind who deems what is dangerous or
not, is crucial. As you said, a body-bind curse could kill, so why is that supported to study but not
the cruciatus curse?”

He barely managed to repress a shudder, aware of the Slytherin’s eyes upon him, at the mention of
the Unforgivable. Hadrian moved his pawn, knowing he was losing. He needed to spend more time
thinking through his moves first. “A cruciatus curse is torture,” he said.

“I have heard of quite some...pleasurable sides of a crucio ,” Cassius replied lightly.

All of the boys froze.

Cassius’ mouth pulled into a slow smile. “Some people like it.” He shrugged.

Hadrian shook his head, blinking at the bizarre change of conversation.

Abraxas cleared his throat. “Checkmate.” The word broke the awkward silence that had descended
upon the corner.

The raven-haired boy rose to his feet. “Good game. I’m off to bed.”

They said their goodnights, Abraxas joining him in getting ready for bed. In the bathroom, Hadrian
took a long shower, trying to rid himself of the day. It ended up waking him up a little more, so he
tugged on his loose pyjamas and walked into the dormitory.

Abraxas was in his nightwear, climbing into bed. He offered a small smile to him as he walked
past.

Hadrian opened his trunk and placed his folded clothes. He caught sight of a familiar dark-covered
book and quickly closed it. Instead, his eyes flitted to Riddle’s empty bed.

“You have to excuse Tom. He likes his own space,” Abraxas said quietly from his bed. “He takes
getting used to, but he is an incredible wizard.”

He chewed on his lower lip, checking out the lack of personal possessions out on Riddle’s bedside
cabinet. Everything was very orderly, only a tiny, charmed snake floating in their air in a never
ending spiral. “It is fine,” he replied, throat tight. Whatever had spooked Riddle, spooked him. If
something had startled the future Dark Lord, then Hadrian needed to worry.

After getting into bed, curiosity had already seized him and he retrieved the beaten copy of
‘Advanced Potions’. He placed his glasses on his pillow and then remembered the vial Dippet had
given him, that he forgot all about last night.

It was not too long that Hadrian was lost in the spidery scrawl of the Half Blood Prince's notes.
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

Sorry this took longer - had some work to do!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

To say his eyes were aching was an understatement. It felt as if someone was taking an ice cream
scoop to the back of his eyeballs. It made concentrating on anything a chore, and all Hadrian
wanted to do was to sleep it off. But he had the appointment with the Healer.

“Please, Mr Peverell, if you can just sit on the bed.” Healer Roberts strode through the Medical
Wing, gesturing to a bed as he flicked through a series of parchments in his hands. “I will be with
you in a moment.”

Hadrian walked over to the crisp, white sheets stretched over the metal frame. He allowed his gaze
to wander the open Wing. There were two students conversing in beds next to each other, faces
covered with bandages and red blotches on their hands. They must have been the Second years
involved in the Potions incident.

What surprised him the most was the fact that not much had changed. The bedframes were still the
old-fashioned metal ones, the ones he used to see on TV when Uncle Vernon was watching some
old war drama. In most instances, this was the same castle, but without the people he knew and
recognised. The walls were the same, but the feeling of ‘home’ was diminishing by the day.

The Healer wandered back over, parchment floating beside him with a quill poised to write. Healer
Roberts was a bald, elderly gentleman with a uniform that matched the bedsheets. “Right, Mr
Peverell, can you just talk me through your medical history please, starting from birth.”

Hadrian swallowed. “Medical history? Like what?”

“Anything requiring a healer and any inoculations.”

“I had my arm broken in quidditch...and then they were de-boned by accident so it had to be grown
back. I fell off my broomstick another time, and had to spend a weekend resting.” He watched the
Healer’s quill scribble away.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Inoculations.”

“What are they?” His cheeks were hot with embarrassment.

“Vaccinations against diseases like spattergroit, testing of allergies et cetera,” Roberts explained.

“No.”

“Muggle ones?”
Dudley had jabs at the doctors and at their Primary school, but Hadrian had always been exempted
by the Dursleys, claiming he had already had them. He may have had one against measles, but he
really did not remember.

“No, not that I know of.”

Brown eyes stared at him for a long moment. “I will have to run a diagnostic spell just to establish
any gaps.” His eyes flicked up to the scar on his forehead.

Hadrian swallowed. “Is that necessary?”

“It is the Ministry’s instructions to all, to safeguard the children under our care.”

His back stiffened as the Healer’s brown fingers took his wand out from his pocket. A slight sweat
broke out on his forehead as the wand was swept along his feet and up to his hair in a slow
movement.

Hadrian could not look at the other male. His feet swung a little from the side of the bed, where
they did not reach the floor. He had never reached the towering height of Ron. Years of living in a
cupboard would do that.

“Mr Peverell, we need to talk over these findings, and I will be requesting Headmaster Dippet be
present,” came the soft voice of the Healer.

Hadrian frowned as the Healer strode away, the parchment clutched in his hands as he strode over
to his office. What could the man have found? It was not as if Harry was littered with broken bones
and scars from numerous other injuries at school. There were odd beatings from Dudley, especially
after he got his Smeltings stick and then the beatings from Dudley’s gang.

After a few minutes, the Healer came back out, this time accompanied by the Headmaster. Both
were conversing in hushed voices. Hadrian clasped his sweaty hands together in his lap. Dippet
pulled out his wand and cast a protective curtain around the bed, sealing all three men inside. He
then conjured up two wooden chairs to sit opposite Hadrian, giving him enough space.

“Hadrian - there were quite a few things we need to talk through that appeared on your report,”
Roberts started. He must have duplicated the report, as he handed one to Dippet. “If you don’t
mind, we need you to clear up a few issues. We will start from the easiest I believe to clear up.”

He did not nod, or blink...or move. Hadrian was frozen in place.

“You have signs of malnourishment, did you have periods of not having food or access to water?”

Hadrian’s eyes flickered to Dippet. “I really don’t know what I can tell you.”

Dippet tapped his finger on the parchment as a contemplative expression seized his placid face.
“Healer Roberts is one of my closest friends.”

He breathed in deeply. “I just don’t know what to say. This is really no big deal.” Emerald eyes
pleaded with Dippet. “I don’t know what to say, with the situation that landed me here.”

Roberts stood up. “I feel that perhaps it is best that I get what I need from you Armando to make
the next steps. I will give you two some space and just wait outside the curtain.” He left both of
them behind the privacy of the screens.

“Hadrian, this is not the way I wanted to do this. I did not expect the report to look anything like
this, and it does change things.” The Headmaster leaned back in his chair. “Let me tell you what
this says: malnourishment over a large period of years; stunted growth; multiple concussions with
numerous head injuries; a broken nose...relatively recent; and something that is just unidentifiable,
linked perhaps to that curse scar.”

Hadrian looked down at his lap. Years of malnourishment at the hands of the Dursleys, stashing
him in the cupboard like Petunia’s car boot sale china. Locks on the door, stopping him from
getting food, unless accidental magic allowed him to break free in the middle of the night to steal
some food from the cupboards. The letter addressed: Cupboard under the stairs.

“I want an Unbreakable Vow.” The words he never knew he would have to use, but Dippet had
been right the other evening. Trust was difficult. Besides, not even his friends knew the true extent
of it. Ron had seen the bars on his windows but noticed the lack of good, but that was it.
Everything was always left unsaid. “And then you need to know everything. Maybe it will give
you an idea of why Hogwarts put me here. There is...relevancy in the time she has taken me to.”

Dippet frowned, lines marking his forehead like rings on a tree trunk. “I see. Yes.” He stood. “I
will need Healer Roberts to be our third party.”

Hadrian watched him disappear. It took a few moments for the two men to reappear. His leg was
bouncing up and down and his stomach squirmed.

“Please stand, Hadrian.”

He obeyed the Headmaster’s words and took the outstretched hand of the old wizard. His hand was
cold and wrinkled.

Healer Roberts drew out his wand. “Do you, Armando Dippet, promise to never share with anyone
living, details of Hadrian Peverell’s past...or future?”

“I will.”

A thin stream of fire emitted from Robert’s wand, circling around their hands until Roberts
withdrew. The flame sunk into their hands before Dippet withdrew.

“Thank you, William. Hadrian, let’s go to my Office and speak.”

Hadrian got off the bed, not even noticing that the curtains had been withdrawn. The two second
years were staring right at him before devolving into speculative whispers. He sighed, following
the dark robes of the Headmaster.

***

The moon’s gaze lovingly caressed the surface of the still water. A thin stone suddenly skimmed
the top, creating a vast number of ripples in its wake before disappearing into the abyss. Something
slender poked out of the dark water before rising and growing in width - a giant tentacle.

The sanguine-coloured appendage of the Giant Squid flopped around in the air, its suckers thick
and gelatinous as they vellicated in the breeze that spun through the grounds of Hogwarts.

A raven-haired boy sat on top of a large rock, cross-legged as he juggled another flat stone in his
palms. His emerald eyes watched the Giant Squid, wondering how long the beast had lived in the
watery depths of the Scottish lake. When the tentacle undulated as it disappeared into the water, he
was reminded of a story they studied in Primary school about the mystery of the Lock Ness
monster. It must be no coincidence that both resided in a Scottish lake.

Long ago, his tears had dried on his cheeks, leaving a tight feeling where the salty droplets had
coursed across his skin.

He had spoken about the Dursleys, about his cupboard and the Hogwarts letter addressed to it.
Everything had come out...his parents’ death, Voldemort, Tom Riddle, his mission from
Dumbledore… It was the first time he had spoken the events of his life, and even without watching
Dippet’s face, he knew what horror the story truly was. A boy, whose parents were killed by a
megalomaniac, grows up amongst Muggles and stowed away in a cupboard under some stairs. A
hero in the eyes of the wizarding world for surviving the Killing Curse, but who had no idea the
treatment behind closed doors. No visit from anyone magical - even though the Dursely’s were
openly abusive.

Then the mission to him, given by Dumbledore, to help the Headmaster to get rid of Voldemort for
good. The horcruxes...

Dippet had listened, never once interrupting Hadrian’s train of thought. When he had finished, the
other man had been still silent. Then the most surprising thing had happened - the Headmaster had
apologised. The wizard had looked older than Hadrian had ever seen him, brown eyes weighted.
He had apologised for his childhood, apologised for the neglect from the Muggles and the
Wizarding World and apologised for the weight placed upon his young shoulders.

Then Dippet had asked the question that tore through Hadrian. ‘ Do you really want to return to all
of that ?’

Hadrian had been excused. Both had a lot to think over. How long had he even been outside in the
late-October air? Darkness had fallen a long time ago.

The internal battle had raged within him for hours. Of course he wanted to return. His friends and
family were all in the future. Ron. Ron and his stupid blindness to Hermione’s feelings.
Hermione’s desperate need to be the best, buried in books as she allowed herself to be submerged
in knowledge. But Sirius was dead. His parents were dead. Cedric was dead. Dumbedore’s hand
was a curse most likely to take his life.

“Mind if I join you?”

Hadrian shrugged his shoulders.

“Everyone was wondering where you were,” Cassius Avery said, as he climbed onto the rock.
“Your glasses are gone.”

He nodded.

“It must be tough being here, just going through normal classes after having some crazed man after
you,” the other boy noted.

Hadrian gave a slight snort. Cassius was further to the truth than the Slytherin could ever know. It
was disconcerting. He was worried about handing in essays on time, of catching up with everyone
else. That was usually Hermione’s forte. His vision was always getting rid of Voldemort. Lessons
he did not listen to, too interested in seeing if Malfoy had received the Dark Mark or if his new
 Defense teacher was going to kill him.

“I got you something from Hogsmeade.”

Hadrian frowned, looking at the boy for the first time.

Cassius really was an attractive male. The moon made his pale skin glow, sandy blonde hair
pushed back but a few strands falling loose into his dark blue eyes. His lips pulled up into a smile
as he took out a metal and glass cage from his pocket, along with his wand. The Slytherin tapped
his wand on the metal and the cage grew in size, revealing what was inside.

“W-what?”

Avery handed the cage over. “I thought you might like a companion. We agreed that this suited you
- you have the same eyes.”

Hadrian stared at the black snake wrapped up in the middle of the cage. It was half-asleep, green
eyes fluttering open and closed. The creature was not that large, small enough to be stashed away in
a pocket.

It was beautiful. The onyx scales gleamed.

“You can have a good range of animals as companions here at Hogwarts, so you don’t have to hide
her. Not many people like snakes...but you seemed quite fond of them after your debate with
Dumbledore.”

He swallowed heavily. Hedwig was in the future, given to him by Hagrid. And here, in the past, he
was gifted another animal. “Thank you Cassius, it is beautiful.”

“He is.” Blue eyes met green and held for a long moment.

Hadrian flushed, looking away. “Thank you,” he repeated.

“Come on, let’s go inside and get you warmed up. I think Dorian even demanded a house elf to
send some dinner to the common room for you.” Cassius began moving away.

A hand supported the bottom of the cage, not wanting to stir the small snake who dozed inside, as
he maneuvered himself off the rock and realised how numb his backside had become. His stomach
was knotted with hunger.

Cassius gave him another smile as they wandered across the grounds, the blonde boy filling him in
on their Hogsmeade visit and how Silas made a fool of himself in front of Druella by stuttering as
he complimented her dress. Hadrian laughed along with the story, imagining Lestrange’s face as
they entered the warm castle.

Chapter End Notes

What did you think?

I do have a soft spot for Avery!
 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes

I hope you enjoy this chapter - I couldn't stop writing, and well, things change!

Warning for bad language!

“What isss your name? ” Hadrian asked the snake as it uncurled itself, head rising as it studied
him.

“A ssspeaker? I do not have a name - do I need one? ”

“It would be good to call you sssomething. Do you have a preference of any name ?” Hadrian found
it a little strange speaking to this small creature whilst in his bed, curtains drawn and a silencing
charm thrown up. Hedwig had not been able to converse with him, but she had always seemed to
understand him. He had never thought of actively using his parseltongue ability, especially given
how students reacted to it in his Second Year. Then again, he was in the same predicament as he
could not let Tom Riddle know that he was a parseltongue. He did not want any more unwanted
attention from the future Dark Lord.

“No.”

He opened the cage, and the snake slithered out, black forked tongue poking out in excitement. “
What to name a sssnake? ” Hadrian mused, leaning back against his pillows.

“Massster I am hungry .”

A dark eyebrow rose. “Um, what do you eat?

“A niccce placcce like thisss mussst have lotsss of deliccciousss treatsss, ” replied the snake,
wiggling its body as it moved along Hadrian’s lap.

Hadrian’s lips gave an amused tug. “ Yesss it doesss. I will call you Onyx. Can you go and hunt ?”

“Yesss. Onyx will know where Massster isss .”

“Before you go, I have one rule. I do not want anyone to know I can ssspeak to you yet ,” he
explained.

When the snake seemed to nod an affirmative, Hadrian released the silencing spell and drew the
curtains of his bed. Due to it being the weekend, some of the other boys were still in bed like Silas
and Antonin. Onyx slithered off the bed and out of eyesight.

He got ready for breakfast and as the common room was mostly empty, he wandered down to the
Great Hall. Cassius, Abraxas and Tom were already sitting there. Riddle was reading The Daily
Prophet where the headlines screamed more on Grindlewald’s movements. Cinnamon eyes rose
briefly before resuming his reading.

“Hadrian, I saved you a space,” Cassius said, gesturing to the seat next to him.
Offering the other boy a smile, Hadrian sat down. “Thanks.” He poured himself a goblet of
pumpkin juice and then plucked a piece of buttered toast up. “And thanks again for the snake. He
is really beautiful.”

Avery smiled, his eyes lighting up. “I am glad you think so. Where is he?”

“Off hunting I think,” he said before biting into his toast.

“Hopefully terrorising some Gryffindors,” Abraxas muttered. “Ready for our lessons today,
Hadrian?”

Hadrian looked towards the Head table, where Dippet was staring at them. Did the man want to
meet and discuss anything? What about his research into time? “I do need to go to the library.”

“We were planning on working there anyway.” Abraxas smoothed back his white-blonde hair that
was tied in a ribbon at his nape. “Did you spend all of yesterday with Dippet? Some second years
were claiming something happened in the Hospital Wing with you and him.”

He blinked at the question, taking a deep gulp of pumpkin juice. With his cheeks burning, he
realised that all three were looking at him - Riddle’s paper lowered to his lap. “I just had my
medical.”

“Abraxas, really?” Cassius said. He picked up an apple. “Give him a break.”

Malfoy glared at Avery but before anyone could say anything, there was a scream. A Ravenclaw
girl jumped out of her seat, spurring many others to do the same.

“ Ssso much noissse - loud flessshy humansss, ” came an irritated hissing. “ Massster .”

Hadrian groaned. He turned to see Onyx slithering over. Shaking his head, he leant down and
picked his companion up. He was grateful that the snake did not start chatting to him, but he noted
that Onyx was slightly heavier in his hand. There was a chatter that descended across the hall at the
sighting of the snake and at Hadrian’s involvement.

Cassius was chuckling to himself. “He is very fond of you.”

Hadrian shook his head. “He is very young.” He gave a pointed look to Onyx, who simply looked
at him and started to curl up.

“ Sssleepy. ”

Sighing, he pulled out his wand and charmed his robe pocket warm. Hadrian deposited the young
snake into his pocket. He froze when he looked up.

There was a look in Tom Riddle’s eyes that he had never seen in any person before. There was a
burning, but it wasn’t anger. As Hadrian’s tongue wetted his lower lip, cinnamon eyes followed
the movement.

As he continued to eat, Hadrian was aware of the other boy’s constant gaze. He could feel the
thick, pressing magic of Riddle across the table. Even as a teenager, he was powerful and he would
continue to grow in power to rival even Dumbledore. He rubbed his scar.

“What have you named him?” Cassius asked, as he bit into the shiny green apple with a crunch.

“Onyx.”
“I respect how he just wandered in without a care in the world,” Abraxas commented, as he took
the offered newspaper from Riddle. “Maybe Tom could have a word with him so someone does not
kill him.”

Hadrian’s heart fluttered. “What do you mean?”

Riddle gave Abraxas an annoyed look, before schooling his face into a more neutral position as he
faced Hadrian. “I am a Parselmouth.”

“Oh,” was all Hadrian could get out. Memories of a Tom Riddle - looking exactly like he did now -
standing over a young Ginny Weasley’s body in the Chamber of Secrets flashed through his mind.
His scar suddenly pulsed and his emerald eyes widened in fear as he saw confusion cross over
Riddle’s face.

“What-”

Hadrian stood. “I need to go.” He fled from the Hall and marched down the corridors. What had he
done? A stupid, stupid move. There was every sign that Riddle had seen. He had let his guard
down, which was why he was a total Gryffindor. The occlumency lessons would resume with
Dippet tomorrow, but now he had a target on his back. And what a stupid memory to come to
mind.

Stomping through the corridors, he ended up outside the Room of Requirement. He stared at the
wall for a long time. “What do you want?” he mumbled, leaning on the wall opposite.

Hogwarts had never seemed like such an enemy before.

***

Abraxas had spent hours going through material, until Hadrian’s head was aching with trying to
retain the information. The Malfoy Heir was rigorous in his teaching, more so than Hermione. He
had no patience for spelling errors and constantly stressed clarity. However, in a bizarre turn of
events, Hadrian found himself wanting to impress his peer. He had an eloquence of expression and
an abundance of patience.

The boys had been joined by Cassius and Elias Nott, who were doing some ‘hobby’ reading into
Wizarding Law. Onyx had woken an hour ago whilst they were still studying, slithering off to roam
around the books somewhere.

When they went down to lunch, Hadrian lied to say he needed to get something from his trunk
first. He instead got lost in the stacks of books, trying to find anything on time travel. Where he
really needed to be was the Restricted Section. If Tom Riddle had managed to get access, then he
must be able to after speaking to Dippet.

“Lost?”

His spine seized from where he stood, back turned to the voice and nestled in some dark corner.
“No, just looking for something.” Hadrian forced himself to move, a trembling finger skimming
the titles of the leather-bound books he had been looking at.

“Anything in particular?”
He was too close. The magic was too heavy, too close to swaddling Hadrian in its dark mass. “Your
friends are at lunch,” Hadrian commented lightly, not turning around.

“So they are.”

Hadrian’s breath caught as he felt Riddle’s cloak brush his back. “Do you mind giving me some
space, Riddle?”

There was a throaty chuckle before a rustle of clothing as the other boy moved away. “I just
wanted you to look over something for me.”

Hadrian schooled his expression, turning around. Riddle’s face was cast in half-shadow in the nook
they both stood in. He did not look into the other boy’s eyes, averting them to the side as he waited
expectantly.

Riddle took a slip of paper out of his pocket, unfolding it before offering it to him. As Hadrian took
it, he noted how thick and old the parchment was. He opened it and shrugged his shoulders. “What
about it?”

“I could not quite understand the first line, and I saw you wandering around and thought that I
could ask you for assistance,” Riddle replied smoothly. An elegant, pale finger reached forward
and skimmed the line in question.

“ I have often dabbled with the Art of Wandlore, and have found it increasingly problematic that
magic is restrained through such an instrument, to which I have started to study the very Core of
one’s own Magick to see how to wield its power in a more raw state ,” he read aloud. “Well, it’s
old and difficult to read with the wording, but it just looks like someone studying the constraints of
their wand.”

At Riddle’s silence, Hadrian shifted and held out the parchment, where it was plucked from his
fingers.

“Thank you, Hadrian.”

At the purr of his name, his cheeks warmed and he became very aware of the other Slytherin.
Riddle smelt good, like the garden at Privet Drive in full bloom, but also something spicy and rich
underneath. Didn’t Ginny smell good too? He did not remember anymore. Why was he comparing
Ginny to Riddle?

“By the way, I found your new pet about to startle some Hufflepuffs.” Riddle raised his arm, Onyx
slithering out of the sleeve.

“ Warm, sssmellsss like Massster, ” the snake hissed.

Hadrian blanched in horror, taking his new companion. “Thanks.” He started to shift out of the
way, maneuvering past the Slytherin. “Goodbye.”

A hand took his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “I’m glad you are enjoying Onyx. He really
is a gem.”

Hadrian swallowed and rushed away. Whilst he did so, he swore he could hear a chuckle in his
wake.
***

Sipping his tea, Headmaster Dippet looked over at the sixteen-year-old. Sweat plastered some of
the dark hair over his forehead as the boy sipped his own cup.

Hadrian frowned as Onyx wriggled out of his pocket, sliding up his robes to nestle over his
shoulder. The tea warmed his throat, which was slightly hoarse from the attempts to block the
legilimens attacks from the Head. He had gotten better over the last few days, having met the
Headmaster Monday, Tuesday and now Wednesday evening for lessons. They had been very
business-like, Dippet excusing him when Hadrian was tired or if they had a successful
breakthrough. However, the man had asked him to stay and speak for a while tonight.

“How are you settling into Slytherin?”

“Fine.” He winced at his croaky voice.

“You have yourself an interesting collection of friends, given the history,” Dippet commented.
“And made quite a spectacle of yourself with your new slithery companion at the weekend.”

He chewed his bottom lip, balancing the cup on his knee as his other hand stroked the glossy scales
draped over him. “Yeah. Cassius gave me Onyx. They are...different from what I expected. I
expected them to be raving Death Eaters spewing all sorts, but they have been very kind.”

Dippet hummed. “Hadrian, you did very well in throwing me out of your mind this evening. I think
if we keep this up, you will find yourself quite an efficient Occlumens. However, I have had quite a
lot to think about.”

Hadrian just looked at the man expectantly.

“I believe, piecing together your rough timeline, that Tom probably has already constructed his first
horcrux. He potentially has murdered his family, as the Gaunt family are dead...apparently killed
by Morfin Gaunt, who is in Azkaban for his crimes. Miss Myrtle Warren was sadly killed last year,
and Mr Rubeaus Hagrid expelled.” Dippet paused. “I know you feel strongly about Hagrid but I
believe that the time for his exoneration is not yet. We must think logically how to approach this.
And this is what I wish to speak to you about.”

“Headmaster-”

Dippet held his hand up for silence. “I have battled with myself over this over the last few days. I
know what you have been subjected to in the future by my successor, and I refuse to fall down the
same path. You are no pawn. You are a young man. I will always try and be honest with you,
Hadrian but I am only human and I have my own motives.”

He really did not like where this conversation was heading. Onyx had picked up on his tension and
had slithered down onto his arm, to wrap around him.

“I am afraid that returning to your time will be impossible.” Dippet sipped his tea, allowing the
heavy silence to fall between them. “I spoke to my dear friend Professor Croaker at the Department
of Mysteries before we made the Vow. His research has gathered that any traveller of time, five
hours is the limit of time someone can go back before time is broken. Now, no serious harm has
come of yourself, but your presence here will have already altered the timeline considering the
decades you have gone back, and the time spent here already.”
“No.” Hadrian thumped down the delicate mug on the desk between them. “It doesn’t matter. I
can’t stay here. Just hide me away somewhere until we find the solution.”

Dippet grimaced. “It really is not that simple. All time travel has been by a time turner, and this
falls out of the usual mechanics. My knowledge of you, despite the Vow, would allow me to try
and change things. I do not want the future you speak of.”

Hadrian stood up, his body trembling. “You knew. You knew that time would be compromised by
me telling you the future, even more so with the Vow.”

“Yes.”

The paintings on the walls trembled as Hadrian’s magic lashed out. A few trinkets fell from the
bookcases as the wood vibrated. “You manipulated me.”

Dippet’s lips became a straight line before he nodded. “I have warned you that you trust too easily.
However, I cannot allow the future to be so bleak. Grindlewald has already left so much of a scar
on the world.”

“What if it’s worse?” Hadrian cried out. “Have you even thought about that? What if this causes
Grindlewald to survive? What if Riddle never goes after me as a child and succeeds in his plans?”

“Hadrian, the future you speak of has robbed you of your loved ones. Hogwarts placed you here for
a reason, maybe this is it.”

“Fuck you, and fuck Hogwarts,” he hissed.

Hadrian stormed out of the office. A group of Ravenclaws gasped as he swept out from the
gargoyle, magic shrouding him like a dark cloak. His head pounded and his very soul burned with
injustice. The Slytherin strode down the corridors and into the dungeons, all students who were
returning before curfew moving out of his way.

He bit out the password, a flurry of black robes as he whisked inside.

In the common room, it was mostly empty apart from Slughorn with Hadrian’s fellow Sixth year
boys and a few third years who were playing gobstones. Hadrian ignored them as they all looked
up.

“Mr Peverell, please join us for a tea!” Slughorn said merrily, cheeks ruddy.

“No.”

“Mr Peverell, I must insist as your Head of House!”

Avada kadavra-coloured eyes flashed towards the stout Potions Professor. “I must insist that you
fuck off, Professor,” Hadrian bit out, before marching out into the dormitory. Once inside, he threw
the curtains around him and erected the strongest shielding charm he could muster.

He released the scream that had lodged in the base of his throat, his magic spiralling out of him and
tearing the sheets to shreds all around him, leaving his bed in disarray. In chaos around him.
 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes

This chapter had a bit of a life of it's own...

“Hadrian?”

He buried his head in his ruined pillow. “Go away,” he mumbled.

“Let me in.”

He released the shield from the curtains. There was a rustle as the curtains parted and then the bed
dipped a little as another person climbed on. Hadrian heard a muttered spell and felt the bed
coverings fix themselves underneath him.

An arm slid over his waist, and then a warm body pressed against his. Hadrian blinked at the
feeling of being in someone’s arms, being held. Ron and he had never been this close to each other.
None of the boys in Gryffindor had ever hugged each other. It just wasn’t a done thing.

“It’s lunchtime, and I brought you some food just in case you were hungry,” Cassius whispered, his
breath a warm tickle on the back of Hadrian’s neck. “But if not, we could talk...or just stay like
this. Whatever makes you feel better.”

Hadrian squeezed his eyes shut. The pain and anger that had festered within him all night and
morning, started to ease, as if Cassius was drawing it from him. In its place was a hollow feeling
that seemed to claw its way into his very soul.

They stayed like that for a long while. Minutes...hours...Hadrian had no idea. “Don’t you have
lessons?” he asked, voice hoarse from screaming and his lack of sleep.

“I can catch up.”

Hadrian sighed before he started to become acutely aware of the boy’s arm around his waist - the
weight of it and its positioning. It was an intimate position. Cassius’ legs were against his, although
above the duvet, as the other Slytherin spooned him. No one had ever been this physically close to
him.

“Have you seen Onyx?” he whispered.

“Tom has him. He was off hunting and found him at breakfast.”

Hadrian groaned.

“He loves snakes, so he will be in good hands.” There was a pause. “Hadrian, your magic is truly
beautiful. Last night...”

His body stiffened as his mind snapped over the events that had occurred overnight. He shifted out
of Avery’s arms, and for the first time saw the other boy’s face as he turned on his back. Cassius’
handsome face was close to his, blonde hair slightly mussed from the bed. Both stared at each
other for long moments.

Suddenly, the curtains were pulled back. Hadrian jolted, glaring as he sat up in bed.

“Rise and shine!”

“Piss off, Lestrange,” Cassius said, although there was little malice in his voice.

Silas and Dorian clambered onto the bed, shrugging off their school robes to their shirts and
trousers.

“No way,” Silas replied, a twinkle in those dark eyes. “Do you know how long I have been waiting
to speak to Hadrian? The whole of the school is talking about you.”

Hadrian’s mouth twisted, grabbing his pillow and stuffing it against the headboard to lean on. He
had chucked off his shirt and robes last night, which were in a mess still at the foot of the bed.
Trouserless, he became aware that he was just wearing his underwear under the duvet. He lifted the
duvet to cover his stomach and chest.

Cassius remained lying down next to him, moving onto his back and pillowing his head on folded
arms.

“Apparently you stormed out of Dippet’s office - snake on your shoulder and everything.” The
gleam in Silas’ eyes deepened. “Half of the school wants to slip you a love potion, and the other
half thinks that you are Grindlewald’s secret son.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes when all of the boy’s eyes turned to him expectantly. “My father’s a
Muggleborn, not some psychopath. And very dead. Killed by Grindlewald.”

“You were owning that Dark Lord vibe. I think Slughorn shit his trousers,” Dorian chuckled. “So,
you are a half-blood?”

The question was asked lightly, but a heaviness draped itself around each individual word. Hadrian
frowned. “Yes. Is there a problem?”

“Dorian-”

The Slytherin cut Cassius off, “Just that it is interesting you are so powerful given your blood
status.”

Silas crossed his legs, dark hair wild around his face. “Why did the Peverell’s dirty the blood with
a Muggleborn?”

Hadrian’s jaw clenched. His mother - the true Muggleborn - was a witch renowned by all the
people who had known her. She had died young, just twenty-one, but even in those short years she
had charmed all of those around her with her eyes and magical ability. It was Draco Malfoy that
had spewed the term ‘Mudblood’ for the first time in his presence. “I do not appreciate you calling
my blood ‘dirty’, Lestrange.”

“What are you going to do about it, Peverell?”

“Duel.”

All eyes turned to the figure of Tom Riddle, lounging against the opening of the dormitory. He
fingered his wand lazily, and resting on his shoulder was the contented form of Onyx. Dark eyes
were fixated on Hadrian, who glared back at him from the bed.

“It’s the way to settle this...like wizards.”

Silas snapped out of his anger, an eagerness twitching in his limbs and wide eyes swivelled back to
Hadrian. “I challenge you to a duel.”

Hadrian’s lips pressed into a line. He wanted desperately to say ‘no’, to banish them all from his
presence and hide away in his bed. However, a lot of that anger he felt towards Dippet and his
current situation had no outlet. Lestrange’s line would merge with the Black’s in the future...and
Bellatrix Lestrange would kill her cousin. Sirius…

“I accept. Tonight.”

Lestrange bounced on the bed. “Perfect. I look forward to it, Hadrian.” There was more teeth than
smile at the look that was flashed at him.

Dorian clapped a hand on his friend’s leg. “Let’s give him some space to prepare himself. I warn
you, Hadrian, Silas is a fine duellist.”

Hadrian simmered at Dorian and Silas exited the dormitory, ignoring Tom Riddle who was still
standing there watching. Instead, he looked at Cassius, who had moved to sit up.

The blonde boy shoved a hand through his hair. “Tom, is this such a good idea?”

“You challenge my decision?”

Hadrian snorted lightly, taking note of the way Cassius paled. “I think it was my decision,
Riddle.”

A thick silence fell between them all before Riddle sighed. “Cassius, make sure he is prepared.”
With that, he too left.

Cassius chewed his bottom lip, staying cross-legged as Hadrian moved off his bed and went to his
trunk. “Hadrian, Silas is good...unpredictable even.”

Just like his future daughter-in-law , Hadrian thought. He shrugged his shoulders as he took a
towel. “I have fought worse.”

Cassius averted his eyes. “I’m sure you have. But, what Silas was saying...there is more to it. You
know, the whole blood purity debate. Tom has some really interesting thoughts about it all and you
should speak to him. Silas is a lot more...difficult to work with.”

Talking with Tom Riddle about blood purity? Did his friends even know that he was a half-blood
too? Did they know that he had massacred his family and set the basilisk on the school last year?
As kind as Cassius had been, he was still a future Death Easter - that he had to make sure he
remembered.

Without another word to the sandy-haired boy, he strode out to the bathroom attached to their
dormitory. It was time to show Lestrange what he was capable of.

***
As he rose from the bow, his wand was at the ready. Lestrange was quick, already shooting a
muttered hex at him. Hadrian quickly reacted, casting Protego to bounce whatever it was away
from him before shooting a haphazard Confringo back.

The other boy just managed to slide out of the way, the wall behind Lestrange exploding into a pile
of rubble. Luckily, it was some disused classroom in the dungeons and far away from the common
room.

Silas’ dark eyes flashed, bearing his teeth at the close call. He sent a flurry of hexes back, and his
eyes widened as Hadrian deflected every single one of them with swift shielding charms. It
continued for ten minutes.

Hadrian simply stood in the exact spot, fielding off the spells as if they were just flies. He smirked
as Silas’ forehead broke out into sweat and he started to bite out his spells louder. A few darker
ones started to work their way into his arsenal, black and grey as they warped through the air
towards Hadrian’s awaiting shield.

“Fucking fight,” Lestrange hissed, dark hair in disarray around his shoulders.

He simply shielded the next flurry of curses, enjoying the anger rising in the other Slytherin. And
then he saw his break as Silas started to slow.

Langlock - he conjured wordlessly, breaking his shield to throw the spell.

It hit. Lestrange’s eyes bulged out as his tongue welded itself to the roof of his mouth. Hadrian’s
smirk deepened as he stepped closer. “Not so good at the non-verbals, are you?” he goaded. He hit
the boy with a Tarantallegra , amused as Silas’ legs started to dance whilst his fingers clawed at
his mouth. The tongue curse was another of the Half Blood Prince’s inventions - but this one he
knew the counter for, rather than use one again in reckless judgement.

Hadrian muttered the counter-curse, delighting in the loud, gasping breath the other boy drew in.
He prefered a bit of fight, and Lestrange needed to be shown that blood status did not mean
weakness. As Silas recovered, Hadrian muttered: ‘ Expecto Patronum ’.

From his wand, a silvery animal burst out. However, the blood drained from his face as the stag
did not appear. No, in its place was something hugely different. The silver dragon outstretched its
wings and went straight for Lestrange.

A patronus could not hurt him, but that was not the point here. Silas yelled, “Fuck!” as he tried to
shield himself from the ferocious-looking creature.

It was the distraction he wanted. Hadrian threw the horror of his patronus out of the way and
disabled Lestrange’s wand with an Expelliarmus . The piece of wood clattered to the ground, and
the patronus vanished.

Before Hadrian could turn and exit the room, Tom Riddle - who had been watching under a shield
with the rest of the Sixth year Slytherin boys - stepped in front of Lestrange, who was panting and
flushed.

“Very impressive, Hadrian.”

He did not like how his name was purred, how it seemed to wrap around each of his senses. His
chin jutted up as his arms crossed over his chest.

“Let us have a go - I am interested to see how far I can push you.”

Hadrian flicked an eyebrow up, a smile growing on his lips. “Your arrogance astounds me.” For a
moment, he had forgotten who he was speaking to, his adrenaline pumping from the duel.

“Then show me what you can do.” Tom Riddle gave a flourish of a bow. He looked up from where
he had sarcastically bowed. “Are you not going to show some manners?”

His face drained of colour at the words, the words he had heard in the graveyard as Cedric lay
death a few feet away. Hadrian just gave a jerk of his head, a mockery of a bow that he knew
would infuriate the other boy. At the twitch in the Slytherin’s face, Hadrian knew it had done just
that.

A jet of green light burst from Riddle’s wand, just as a burst of red light exploded from Harry’s.
They crashed together in mid-air and suddenly the two colours burned brightly into a shimmering
gold. Lestrange went flying back into the broken wall.

“No, no, no,” Hadrian chanted at his stupidity.

Tom’s face was a mask of confusion as he tried to pull his wand away from the thick, pulsing gold
thread but it attached the two Slytherins.

His wand vibrated in his hand, causing sweat to break out across his skin. The golden thread
exploded, threads dancing into the air, before cascading down and creating a spider-web of golden
light around the two dueling schoolboys. It was history repeating itself. And Hadrian was frozen in
fear of what he had done. Voldemort and he had never seen Priori Incantatem before in the
graveyard. Regardless of what happened now, the Dark Lord would know , would know what this
is, what the connection was.

His feet were dangling in the air, Riddle also lifting with the force of the spell.

Then it appeared.

A golden bubble in the middle of the connection between them. But cinnamon eyes were fixated on
the development as well.

Hadrian had to grit his teeth as he pressed forward, trying to will that bubble forward, towards
Riddle. Riddle was not stupid. He pressed forward as well, teeth bared and a sheen of sweat on his
forehead.

It was a sheer battle of wills between the two of them. But Hadrian was faltering, his brain firing
all sorts of memories he did not want to look back on at that moment. The nodule of magic was
heading into his direction. Hadrian released a strained noise, pushing it back a little bit. But this
was not the newly-resurrected Voldemort he was fighting against. This was Riddle in his prime.

The bead of light smashed into Hadrian’s wand. Emerald eyes gazed in horror as he experienced
his magic thrown into the air, revealing the echoes of his recent magic. It wasn’t the monstrosity of
Voldemort’s victims regaining their ghostly forms, but Hadrian knew he was fucked.

Thrown into the air were ghostly figures of Lestrange inflicted by their duelling magic...simple
spells like silencing his curtains and school work...then Draco’s chest splitting open with the
Sectumsempra spell, blood staining his wet, white shirt as he collapsed to the ground...the Langlock
used on Peeves...refilling the bottles that sat at Slughorn’s legs as he drunkenly chatted to
Hagrid...and small bursts of general spells used in lessons before it happened. The Crucio he tried
to hit Bellatrix with...and failed...her falling about laughing - the laughing that echoed in the web.

Hadrian drew in a deep breath, his heart trying to break out of his chest, to end his misery. He
barely noticed his feet touching the ground, or the golden light disappearing.

“Out!” Riddle shouted.

There was a flurry of movement as the Slytherins who watched - but saw nothing but a golden web
around their two classmates, shielding them from view - scurried at the furious Riddle’s words.

Hadrian’s eyes stung, exhausted from the fight physically and mentally. A warm hand gathered in
his shirt, pulling the raven-haired boy close. Riddle leaned down so their faces were only
centimetres away.

“What the fuck was that, Peverell?” Riddle asked, voice a harsh sibilant whisper.

And Hadrian's world fell apart.

 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes

Got a bit of an arm injury so the next few updates may be 2-3 days apart, but I will do
my best!

Hope you enjoy!

“Let me go,” Hadrian choked out.

The curl on Riddle’s forehead dangled between them, damp with sweat. His hand squeezed his
shirt tighter, keeping the shorter boy in place. Those cinnamon eyes narrowed on him.

His scar tingled, small sparks shooting down his nerves at the other boy’s proximity. Hadrian tried
to struggle out, resorting to hitting Riddle’s arm with a clenched fist and raising his wand with the
other.

The future Dark-Lord spun them around, slamming Hadrian’s back against the wall. His head
bounced on the stone, pain exploding where it made a connection and his wand tumbled from his
fingers. Riddle kicked the piece of wood away. It was his wand, pale yew, that slipped under
Hadrian’s chin.

“We have so much to discuss,” Riddle purred, though there was a terrifying dark edge to it. “And
you are going to start giving me answers.”

“Fuck off, Riddle. I’m not scared of you.”

“Well, maybe you should be.”

Hadrian chuckled, wincing at the pain that sparked in his head and back. He looked at Riddle, and
felt a touch across his mind. Without a further thought, Hadrian slammed up his defenses.

“So, an Occlumens...but not a strong one yet...I could rip through that mind of yours and take
everything.” His voice lowered as Riddle brought his mouth down to Hadrian’s ear, breath hot. “I
could leave you insane, screaming for a sense of identity in St Mungos. But for some strange
reason, I want that brain of yours to remain intact.”

Hadrian swallowed noisily, very aware that Riddle’s body was pressed against his, pinning him to
the wall. The dark, spicy scent invaded his senses and their magic still tinged the air, charging it.
What could he do? His arrogance had cost him his secrecy. His Gryffindor side had erupted out,
revelling in the need to battle Riddle and look where it had ended up. What exactly had Riddle
seen? The figures had been ghostly, more echoes of the spells and outcomes than the people
themselves. Nevertheless, his crimes had slapped him in the face and revealed themselves to the
other Slytherin boy. He had cast Crucio ... Sectumsempra ...without a regard for the outcome of
using such magic. That, mixed with all the other stupid slip ups.

He jolted as a warm hand came up and took his jaw. Hadrian could not stop the cry from tumbling
from his lips as the metal of the ring came in contact with his skin and burned . It was not painful,
but it seemed to rip through his nerves and set them on fire up to his scar. This had not happened
when the ring had made contact with his hand, but he was weakened and the proximity to his scar
was clearly having some effect.

“How can I feel connected with you? Why do our wands refuse to battle? Why do you react to
my...ring?” Riddle asked, his face dangerously close to Hadrian’s. Cinnamon eyes dropped very
briefly to the lips in which that cry had escaped from. “I know some of your secrets, Hadrian, but
there is still so much I do not understand. And I hate not understanding.”

Avada kedavra eyes snapped wide open when those fingers wrapped around his jaw moved higher,
up to his cheek to cup it. Any words died in his mouth from the hunger he saw in the face of the
taller Slytherin.

“I want to invite you to a gathering, tomorrow evening. Avery can take you there. I want to see
what you think.” Lips curled up into a dark smile. “To see whether I should consider you an enemy
or...a friend.”

He wanted to mock the word ‘friend’ falling from Riddle’s mouth but his brain was struggling to
form any response due to the thundering of his heart and his scar’s strange pulsing. Suddenly,
Riddle let him go, striding out of the room with his robes billowing in a manner that would make
Snape proud. Hadrian slumped against the wall, feeling strangely empty. His head throbbed with
every thud of his heart.

Staring at the discarded wand on the floor, he recalled the priori incantatem and the memories of
magic hidden in its wooden body. But it was a scapegoat. The wand was just an outlet. There was
no escaping the rush he had felt after chasing after Bellatrix and casting the Unforgivable, or the
tremble of exhilaration in his very core after slicing Draco Malfoy open. Hadrian slid down the
stone wall, legs haphazardly stretched out in front of him as he struggled to work through the
myriad of conflicting thoughts battling in his head.

***

Hadrian chewed on the piece of toast, lost in the growing noise of breakfast in the Great Hall.
Sleep had evaded him a lot of the evening, knowing that Riddle was in the bed next to his, and that
some of his secrets had been exposed. He felt raw and so unsure about everything.

He had been joined by Adelia Greengrass, Druella Lazenby and Sylvia Selwyn soon after he had
sat at the near-empty table. Adelia had resumed her fascination with his hair, leaning her head on
Hadrian’s shoulder as she wrapped a finger with a raven lock.

Onyx had joined him in bed last night, strangely quiet and was asleep once more in his pocket
during breakfast.

“What happened last night? Lestrange came back to the common room in a state,” Druella asked,
drawing a steaming tea up to her lips. Hazel eyes studied him curiously.

Hadrian wanted to shrug but Greengrass had laid claim to his shoulder. “I don’t know, ask him,” he
replied instead.

Sylvia gave a speculative hum, raising her red eyebrows. “Did you see Tom Riddle’s face when he
entered not long after? It gave me the chills.”

“He always gives people the chills,” Adelia answered, releasing Hadrian’s hair as she leaned over
to grab a handful of plump grapes.

“I cannot tell whether they are good chills, bad chills or both,” Druella said. “That intensity...what
do you reckon it would be like to be with him?”

Hadrian grimaced. “Do you have to discuss this?”

“Well, he certainly likes looking at you, but who can blame him.” Druella grinned. “And yes, we
do. No female has ever gotten close to Riddle, and although he has that group of boys in our year, I
doubt he sees them as equals or as friends. He is so mysterious.”

Onyx poked his head out of his pocket. “ Massster, have you found female matesss? ”

Hadrian gave him a pointed look, but it drew the girls’ attention. Adelia gave a delighted gasp as
Onyx wriggled out and slithered up to Hadrian’s now-free shoulder.

“Oh, he is beautiful ,” Greengrass breathed. “Can I stroke him?”

“Mr Peverell.”

He looked up into blue eyes, into the face of his future-mentor. The face was etched into irritation.
“Yes, Professor Dumbledore?”

“Your...pet is causing distress to the younger years and I must insist that you keep it locked away
or out of sight.”

Hadrian turned his back on the man, to look down the table at all the younger Slytherins who were
watching the exchange, throwing dark looks at the bearded man. He then looked at the Ravenclaw
table next door, who were mostly studying and in the midst of early morning debates. “I do not see
any young students in distress, Professor. I have also checked the school rules, and all companions
smaller than cats are allowed. Snakes are even referenced as being specifically allowed.”

“You cannot control the animal, and therefore I must take this up with Headmaster Dippet.”

Hadrian rubbed his eyes. He did not need or want this, not on the little sleep he was surviving on,
and the shit he had got involved with whilst duelling last night. “Go then, speak to the Headteacher.
I can assure you that I can control my snake, Professor .”

Dumbledore’s mouth twitched, but then his head rose and he was distracted by something else.
Hadrian followed his gaze, to see the boys coming in. Riddle led them, his jaw set and anger
simmering in his dark eyes as he spotted Dumbledore. He strode over.

“ Is there a problem, Hadrian ?”

Hadrian opened his mouth to reply to Riddle, before he snapped his mouth shut. There had been
something different in the way the boy had said it that sent warning bells ringing in his head. He
averted his eyes, clenching a fist in his lap.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Tom Riddle greeted with mock politeness, “how can we help you?”

However, the aged man was silent, glancing between Riddle and the green-eyed boy who now
looked elsewhere. Without saying another word, Dumbledore swept away in a mass of light blue
and purple robes.

“I swear, that man’s fashion sense makes me want to tear out my eyeballs,” Adelia murmured.
“You poor thing.” Her fingers trailed down Onyx’s shiny scales. The snake did not react at first,
simply staring up at Riddle before slithering down into Hadrian’s lap. The Slytherin girl took that
as her chance to lean against him again, head stealing the spot where Onyx had been.

Cassius slid into the spot next to Druella and opposite Hadrian, beating Silas. However, Hadrian
did not look up from where he was glaring at the almost empty cup of pumpkin juice in front of
him. Conversation flowed between all of the Slytherins but Hadrian descended deep into his
thoughts. In the memories Dumbledore had shown him of Riddle’s childhood, the little boy had
told the Professor that he could speak to snakes. He remembered the haunted look on the
Headmaster’s face, the judgement radiating from him. What had made him so different from
Riddle? Harry Potter had spoken to snakes, quite publically too in his Second year. Had the
contempt Dumbledore openly showed Riddle one of the reasons he was pushed to fall further in
darkness? It could not be blamed on that; Riddle had set a basilisk on the school of his own
accord.

Half an hour later, Hadrian was moving with the rest of the Slytherins down to the dungeon where
they had their Potions lesson. Slughorn avoided all eye contact with him as the Professor explained
that they would be brewing Draught of the Living Death . The man literally had not changed his
syllabus in decades.

Slughorn explained that they would be attempting to brew it to its half-way stage and he
emphasised just how difficult this potion would be. His instructions had already been etched onto
the blackboard and he had also directed them to the brand new Advanced Potion-Making books on
their desks.

Hadrian reached down into his school bag, using his wand to change the cover of the Half-Blood
Prince’s version to match the ones set out on the tables. They were to try and brew the potion
individually so Slughorn could see their progress.

He opened up the page he needed, drawing a finger over the spidery scrawls that were tight and
cramped. Hadrian threw himself into brewing the potion, ignoring everyone else in the classroom.
It was stifling, causing him to shed his robes and roll his sleeves up. He began the first steps with
ease, knowing that they had been set the same hour to complete it to a half-brew. The rest of it he
paced evenly.

Not long ago - for him - he was sat here with his friends, with Hermione’s hair growing larger with
the muggy heat and the intense pressure to be able to brew something this advanced. His chest
ached at the memory of his best friend. She would be disappointed in his actions, getting involved
in a duel with the Slytherins and the way he had reacted to the teachers.

The Sopophorous bean made a cracking sound as he crushed it under the silver blade, instead of
cutting it like the original instructions. He made sure the thirteen were added, not the twelve,
before stirring it seven times anti-clockwise and then once clockwise.

Before his eyes, there bloomed a delicate lilac shade across the surface of the lightly bubbling
potion. He stepped back, bring his eyes up to Slughorn who was hovering nearby.

“Mr Peverell, you believe you have finished?” The Professor ambled over, eyes widening at the
shade of the potion. “I have never seen such a perfect potion brewed by a student.” He plucked a
flower from his pocket, flicking it into the cauldron, where it immediately began to disintegrate.
“Merlin’s beard,” he breathed. “You did not say that you were such an accomplished potioneer.”
He brought out his wand and cast a stasis spell on the potion. “Perfection!” He looked at the clock
on the wall. “Well, time is up for the rest of you!”

Slughorn made his rounds of the classroom. The only one that had gotten close to Hadrian’s
success was Riddle, but his potion was still a step behind and a darker shade of purple than
Hadrian’s.

As the class was excused, Hadrian was asked to stay behind. He stood, back rod-straight, in front
of the Professor’s desk.

“Ah, Mr Peverell, I think we will put the other’s evening’s...misunderstanding to the side. You
have an incredible talent, but I would expect that of your family.” Slughorn gave a smile. “I am
having a small gathering of students like you next weekend, a party. Some of my friends at the
Ministry will be attending, as well as my wider connections. I would be delighted to have your
presence there.”

The sense of deja vu was unsettling but he had to shove it to one side. “I would be delighted to be
there, Professor,” he answered smoothly.

With Dippet’s manipulations and words that Hadrian would never return to his time, maybe there
were some connections he could forge. The Ministry of Magic Unspeakable who was involved
with Time Magic was what he was going to try and aim for first. Working his way into a place of
trust was a priority now he could not trust Dippet. If Dippet was not going to help, then he would
take a leaf out of Hermione’s book and do it all by himself.

“Excellent!” Slughorn clapped his hands together. “Well, off you go, I will send you your
invitation.” He slid a note across the table. “By now you will be late for your next lesson, so just
give this to your Professor.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Hadrian pocketed the note and left. Luckily, he just had Divination next, and that
Professor was only slightly less barmy than Trelawny had been. It was plenty of time to prepare
himself mentally for the 'gathering' Riddle was holding later.
 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes

Took a bit longer - stupid arm injury!

Enjoy the delights this chapter offers...

Important note: I really do not like the inconsistencies around the whole Fantastic
Beasts franchise. I am picking parts I want to use that fits with the canon, but I refused
to watch past the first one. I could rant about it for ages, but I won't. I am sticking to
the main Harry Potter stories and using my best judgments.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Both Slytherins walked silently down the dungeon corridor, their shoes slapping against the stone
floor the only sound. It seemed to be leading to the same area the duel had occurred the night
before. Over dinner, he had received a letter from Dippet asking to resume their lessons, but
Hadrian had ripped it up. There was no way he wanted to see the Headmaster at this point.

Cassius cleared his throat. Hadrian frowned when he realised the other boy had stopped, also
stopping and turning. The blonde’s cheeks were slightly flushed and his hands were buried in his
pockets.

“Cassius?”

“A new place has opened up in Hogsmeade, somewhere to eat and drink.” His eyes avoided
Hadrian’s at all cost. “I was just wondering...if you want to, you know, have a drink together?”

“Yeah, sure,” Hadrian answered. Cassius had made him feel safe and welcomed in his new House.
It was getting more difficult to differentiate between the Avery that he remembered Voldemort
mentioning in his joint dreams before the battle at the Department of Ministry, to this Avery. They
were not the same person, but probably father and son. What would happen to Cassius Avery in the
future?

“That is great.” Cassius smiled, walking forward to fall in step with Hadrian as they resumed their
walk. “Hogsmeade is alright, a little basic but quite quaint in its own way. All Sixth and Seventh
years can go at the weekend.” He paused. “Where did you learn to cast a Patronus?”

“When I was about thirteen, I had a few run-ins with some Dementors, so my…uh, tutor taught me
it.” Hadrian could not help but shudder a little at the memories of the creatures chasing after
Dudley and him, and how they had invaded the Quidditch pitch.

“ Thirteen ?”

He shrugged. “Anyone can learn. I taught a group of friends last year.”

“Could you teach me?”

Hadrian smiled at the other Slytherin’s thinly veiled excitement. “Sure, but you will have to be
prepared with a happy memory.” They turned a corner down the corridor and then Avery stopped
by a large wooden door.

“I think I have one,” Avery murmured, his eyes lingering on Hadrian’s. He gave a quick smile
before opening the door, leaving Hadrian wondering what made the other boy look at him like
that.

Following inside, he closed the door behind him. It was another abandoned classroom, this one
smaller than the one used last night. Lestrange, Dolohov, Mulciber, Nott, Malfoy and a couple of
other older Slytherin boys stood in a circle, all dressed in plain black robes. Silas gave him a
strange look as they made eye contact, dark eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Tom wants you to sit and watch,” Cassius said, leading Hadrian over to a desk that was pushed to
the side of the room. There were no other pieces of furniture in the room so Hadrian wiped the dust
away and shimmied onto the top. Avery’s hand came down on his knee, gently squeezing. “Keep
an open mind.”

Hadrian could still feel the other boy’s hand imprinted on his knee, as Cassius turned and joined
the circle. There was a tightness in his stomach as he sat on the solid wood as he saw the black-
robed students gathered like their future children would be in the graveyard after Voldemort’s
resurrection. But now, what would change?

His back straightened as Riddle strode in. He felt the boy and his magic before the door had
opened. Cinnamon eyes flickered to him before the door slammed shut and he resumed his
observations of the circle.

All lowered their heads as if bowing to him.

Hadrian arched an eyebrow. If future Dumbledore could see this now - Tom Riddle and his young
budding Death Eaters all gathered together under his nose. How did the boys even start to worship
Riddle like this? He was a half-blood. And for some reason, tonight, he had been given a front seat
to watch it - whatever ‘it’ was - unfold.

“My Slytherins, thank you for gathering here this evening. It is not our usual place but tonight we
have a visitor,” Riddle said, voice deep and dark. “We, as Knights of Walpurgis, lead the
protection of the wizarding community against the Muggles. It is our duty to secure the wall
between our worlds. They are the enemy.”

Hadrian tilted his head to the side. Knights of Walpurgis ? A very glorified name for a bunch of
students in a school.

“Unfortunately, due to Muggle-sympathisers like Dumbledore, the amount of Muggleborns are

increasing, therefore the wall between our worlds are falling apart. Grindelwald is rising in power,
and we have offered our services for when he needs them. However, as many of you have reported,
Grindelwald is becoming more...unhinged and we have to be ready to step forward when the time
comes. His agenda has increasingly moved away from ours. If he falls, we must continue the
work...but make it our own.”

It was a mistake on his behalf. Harry Potter had been introduced to the Wizarding World at eleven
years old, and took everything for granted. Naively, he stumbled through and relied on the
knowledge of Ron who had been brought up in the magical world, and Hermione who fully
emerged herself in all knowledge. He knew about the Muggle World Wars, based on some of the
programmes his Uncle watched and a unit in Year 5 and 6 about the War. Then there was the war
against Voldemort, but anything else...nothing. He knew who Grindelwald was up to a point but
everyone was so obsessed with Voldemort’s regime, that the other man was forgotten. Tom Riddle
would be proud of that fact. Binns would go on and on about the bloody Goblin wars, but never the
Wizarding ones.

Riddle strode into the front of the classroom, opposite Hadrian. The group moved out of the circle
to stand facing the other Slytherin. He looked utterly in his element, chin up, wand twirling in his
long, elegant fingers as he gazed upon his fellow schoolmates. From here, Hadrian could not see
their faces, only Riddle’s.

“Lestrange, debrief us please.”

There was a clearing of a throat near the front. “My father remains in contact with Grindelwald,
although sporadically. He is still after the International Statute of Secrecy being lifted, although
seems more focused on the Hallows at this point.”

Hadrian filed all of this under his mental bank. What were the ‘Hallows’?

Lestrange continued, “I have asked my father about Hadrian Peverell and Grindelwald’s hunting of
him. My father was under the assumption that the Peverell’s are dead, but they have huge links to
the Hallows. It makes sense they went into hiding, but Grindelwald is very secretive about his
quest of the fictional items. My father has been more focused on the Ministry.”

Back stiffening, his senses zoomed in. So, his name had relevance? Was that why Dippet had
chosen it for him? The Peverell’s were linked to some kind of thing called ‘Hallows’ and it fed into
the narrative of the time they were in?

Riddle’s eyes once more floated over to him before he called on the next boy to ‘de-brief’ -
Abraxas.

“The Ministry is trying to handle both the impact of the Muggle war and the Wizarding one. My
father and the Minister are currently working on International relations, a lot of joining forces with
the French Ministry.” Abraxas paused. “Apparently, there are some links between Grindelwald and
Dumbledore. Grindelwald is obsessive over the man. Furthermore, my father has told me that the
Minister is now in talks with the Muggle Prime Minister. All of this goes against our mission of
secrecy.”

He had to give it to them. This group of boys saw the importance of keeping themselves secret
from the Muggles, against the apparent ideology of Grindelwald wanting to tear it down. Hadrian
shifted, remembering how cowed the Dursleys were when Dumbledore came to pick him up at the
beginning of the year. Their eyes were wide and frightened as they saw the acts of magic
performed by the old man. Dumbledore had been grave when he had acknowledged that the
Dursleys had neglected him, and had suffered cruelty at their hands. If Dumbledore had known
that, why had that not been challenged before that moment? He claimed that he had evoked
protection on Privet Drive, but how many other ways could he have been protected?

Hadrian had fallen into his thoughts and missed a couple of other boys giving their briefings of
their family ties,

Riddle was now commanding them into a circle. “Hadrian, will you join us?”

“With what?” he asked.

A slow smile crept onto the handsome face. “Sharing our magic.”

Later, he would ask what made him do it, but he slid off the desk and his feet carried him over to
the space that Riddle had left beside him and Abraxas. Hadrian rolled his shoulders and when he
looked at all the boys in the circle, he realised that it was Riddle and himself who were not dressed
in the standard black robes.

“It is All Hallows Eve tomorrow.”

Hadrian froze.

“And we offer our magic, as the dead become closest to the veil.” Riddle’s hands reached out, as
did everyone else’s. Abraxas and Riddle both took Hadrian’s hands.

Suddenly, there was a pulse in his magic, a tingling in his scar. Hadrian drew in a shaky breath,
regret crashing into him. All the boys started to chant, their voices low and echoing in the confines
of the small classroom. Hadrian felt his eyes drift closed as the sound seemed to reverberate deep
into his bones and his magic started to unravel.

Cords of his core stretched out. The feeling of Riddle and Abraxas’ warm hands in his own
disappeared as he felt his physical senses start to vanish. It was as if he was floating in a void, rich
with the in-sync baritone chants of the Slytherins and deep in the growing magic.

The voices were drifting slowly away, becoming fainter as the magic surged. Hadrian could not see
what was his, and what was everyone else’s. It was intense, maybe close to too intense. Each strand
of magic that passed through him had a different feeling - one ice cold, one warm but
invigorating...and a couple of dark suffocating ones, each with their own feel.

Hadrian felt when Riddle’s magic met his. He could not breathe. His magic grasped at the
throbbing, dark tendrils that latched onto his in response - joining them together. If he could feel
his physical body, he would have let out a sob at the feeling. It was as if he came home .

With a strangled cry, Hadrian wrenched himself free with everything he could. His eyes flew open,
seeing that the boys all had their eyes closed, their chantings mere whispers falling from barely
moving lips. Emerald eyes flitted to Riddle.

He was looking back. And with growing horror, Hadrian still felt Riddle’s magic tangled with his.

It was difficult to even see those cinnamon eyes, with the pupils blown that wide.

Hadrian could not move, the magic still coursing through their joint hands. For some reason,
Riddle was the one who let go, his eyes not leaving Hadrian’s. Everyone else also released their
hands.

Without waiting, Hadrian turned his back on the group and made his way to the door. His hand was
trembling as he reached out for the handle. His senses were wired, body jittery. He left, left the
silence of the room and made his way back to the dormitory where he threw himself into bed and
willed himself to relax.

***

Walking down the circular corridor, he was aware of the dripping sound to the sides. The viridian-
coloured marble was shiny both underfoot and around, with a floating orb hovering in the air
leading the way. Snakes weaved around stone pillars.
Hadrian stepped into a vast chamber, one he knew very well. The dominating statue of Salazar
Slytherin stood, his beard long and thin. At the base of the statue, stood a tall black-haired boy. It
was a serious case of deja vu.

Everything was slightly fogged around the edges, screaming to Hadrian that it was just a dream.
But everything about Tom Riddle was solid and clear.

The Slytherin turned, and a dark eyebrow rose. “Hadrian Peverell, you start to even invade my
dreams now?”

Hadrian frowned. “This is not real.”

“Of course it is not real,” Riddle mocked. “This is just a dream.” He folded his arms across his
chest, studying the other boy. “The reason you are here, is because my consciousness is trying to
figure you out.” He approached, arms unfolding again as he circled Hadrian. “There is something
about you which is familiar...and yet I can tell you we have never met.”

Hadrian did not know what to do. This was clearly a dream, and his dream-Riddle was very active.
Not liking the boy behind him, he turned, realising that Riddle had gotten closer so they were a
metre apart.

“Who are you?”

“Well, that is a difficult question to answer,” he replied. It was just a dream. What could he
answer? Harry Potter or Hadrian Peverell? His identity was no longer the same. It was almost as
if Harry Potter was a different boy a lot of the time.

“Peverell. Are you a cousin? The Peverell’s lines are vast, pretty connected to everyone.” Riddle
moved even closer. “Are you a spy? Perhaps Dumbledore put you here...and your animosity with
him is a ruse.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes. Dream-Riddle was just as annoying as in real life. He turned his back and
walked away, towards the statue of Salazar Slytherin. Ginny had once laid at his feet, her soul
being pulled out by a memory of Riddle. A horcrux. He placed a hand to the stone but felt nothing,
just like a dream. He drew comfort in that.

“But that cannot be it. Your magic is...dark and light, such a heady combination. Dumbledore is
pure light, he would not allow a spy like you to infiltrate.”

Groaning, Hadrian tensed. “This is such a nightmare. Can you just shut up and stop rambling
on?”

“Just as mouthy in my dreams.”

“This is my dream Riddle. ” Hadrian sat down at the base of Slytherin’s feet and closed his eyes.

“ What are you doing ?” came the incredulous response.

“Trying to go to another dream where you are not here.”

It was Riddle’s turn to roll his eyes. He leant down, grabbed Hadrian’s shirt and pulled him up to
standing position, despite the protests. Those cinnamon eyes studied him intently. “You think this
is your dream?” Not waiting for a response, Tom’s other hand came up and his fingers brushed
Hadrian’s scar.
 Hadrian flushed as his mouth released a whimper as a strange feeling zapped through him. His
magic core unfurled and he noticed something different. That mass that had connected to his in the
classroom - Riddle’s magic - was still there. Emerald eyes were wide as he stared up into Riddle’s
eyes who was equally searching his.

“Where are we, Hadrian?”

“A dream?”

The smile was almost all teeth, his face leaning in so his warm breath brushed against Hadrian’s
lips. “And where is this location?”

Hadrian was silent.

The hand in his shirt tightened. “If this is your dream, why do you dream of this place...a place you
have not been before? And if you are in my dream, why have you not questioned where this is?”
Riddle smirked. “I saw your mind...I saw a vision of a flaming-haired girl laying at the base of
Salazar Slytherin’s feet, in the Chamber of Secrets. You know this place, outside of our dream.”

“Our dream?” Hadrian uttered, mind buzzing. He tried to wriggle free but the hand held him still.

“I told you that I do not want to rip that mind out of that pretty skull of yours. I must admit, I have
been close to doing so. I hate secrets. I hate anything I cannot understand. Your magic is your
saving grace, Hadrian. You are powerful...different. I want you on my side.”

“I will never be on your side, Riddle.”

“How did you like the ritual?”

Hadrian wrenched himself free. “This is just a dream.” His breath struggled to escape his throat,
which had gotten stuck in his throat. Everything started to fall apart around him as Hadrian
slipped back into consciousness.

Chapter End Notes

So...I am excited to hear what you think!

 Chapter 11
Chapter Notes

I really hope you enjoy this chapter - I loved writing it!

Thank you for all your lovely comments - I will try and reply (I have been super busy
on top of writing this!)

A sharp chill travelled on the All Hallows Eve air, seeking out skin that was exposed and giving it
an unpleasant pinch. The leaves on the ground were thick and heavy, swaddled with a layer of
moisture left from the overnight precipitation. All of the travelling Hogwarts students were bundled
up in layers to protect them from Scotland’s autumnal turn as they ventured down to the small
town.

Hadrian was chewing his bottom lip. He had to ask Cassius to meet him in Hogsmeade, due to
Slughorn wanting to see him - cornering him on his way out. The Professor had a letter from
Dippet, which was still in his pocket unopened, but also a charmed galleon that the Headmaster
wanted him to use to fund his weekend trips. Slughorn had relayed that Dippet had told Hadrian to
relax, to also get any other clothing/school supplies he needed. Hadrian did not ask any questions,
taking the offered items. It was not as if he could just reach into his Potter vault.

He had almost cancelled on Cassius this morning. The weird dream last night had made him feel
on edge. There had been no sign of Riddle in the morning or at breakfast. Sharing a mindspace
with Voldemort was not unusual to him, but the odd dream where Riddle was seemingly aware of
him had been...different. Hadrian did not know whether the dream had been connected or not.
Riddle’s pushing of the point regarding the location they had been in, was an issue if it was some
messed up connection.

Hadrian strode into Hogsmeade and stopped. It was almost exactly the same and it made his heart
pump. The Three Broomsticks’ sign swayed in the wind, carved pumpkins floating outside for the
Halloween celebrations. He smiled at the memories. His memories. This town’s future. Zonko’s
and Honeydukes stood there as if time really had not affected any of this.

Taking in a deep breath that filled his lungs with the frigid air, he began to walk to the new place
Cassius had mapped out. He had said that it was down the left fork in the main street, the fifth
shop along. Gladrags caught his eye, and he made a mental note to see what other clothing items
there were and Tomes and Scrolls was on his list of places to visit, especially now he had potential
funds.

Hadrian grimaced as he turned at the fork and saw the cafe that Cassius was meeting him in.
Madam Puddifoot’s. Cho’s choice of venue, with all pink frilly bows and everything. He just hoped
Cassius realised his mistake and they would just go to the Three Broomsticks.

He opened the door, eyebrows raising at the seasonal decor. It was dark, with candles floating
everywhere inside intricately carved pumpkins. There was a harp floating in the corner, strings
plucked by imaginary fingers. There were intimate tables, but it was too dark to make anyone out.

What an odd place for Cassius to pick.

“Who are you here to see, dear?” a woman asked, suddenly appearing at the door. Her robes were
pitch-black with silvery spiderwebs embroidered into two panels either side of her stout hips.
Bright red lips curved into a smile, brown eyes twinkling.

“Uh, Cassius Avery?”

“Oh yes, that lovely young man.” She clapped her hands together, but with little sound. “Come,
follow me.”

Hadrian was led down the side of the cafe, surprised he could not hear the conversations of the
other customers. He was led to the corner, which was slightly more secluded. Cassius sat at the
small table, his leg bouncing underneath it from where it was visible under the celestial tablecloth.

Cassius stood, brushed down his robes, a smile on his handsome face. “Hadrian.”

“Cassius.” He returned the warm smile as he sat down.

The woman had disappeared,

Cassius sat down. There was a pink flush on his cheeks and his fingers played with the spoon that
rested on the saucer that his tea sat upon. Above them, a collection of three different sized
pumpkins cast a glowing light upon them.

“What did Professor Slughorn want?”

Hadrian sighed. “Just to make sure I had everything for Hogsmeade.”

“Well, this is my treat.” Cassius pushed a menu towards him. “I have not ordered the cake yet, but I
hope you did not mind that I ordered some tea for us.” He picked up the teapot and poured it into
the cup in front of Hadrian.

He looked over to the other patrons, to be further surprised he could not quite make them out in the
dim lighting. “Thank you.” He paused. “It is very quiet.”

“Madam Puddifoot told me it was to keep the mystery of All Hallows Eve, but it is quite nice. I
will ask her what charm she is using. Good for keeping eavesdroppers out.” Cassius cleared his
throat. “So, what shall we go for?”

Hadrian allowed his eyes to wander over the sweet choices, a selection of fruit-based and
chocolate. His stomach was twisted, with the strange and intimate lunch he was having with his
roommate.

Cassius gave a small, husky laugh. “If you are struggling, I quite like the idea of the Little Tastes
of Gluttony - a selection of everything. I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

Hadrian pushed the menu back. “That’s fine.” He took his dainty cup and sipped the tea. It was
milky, no sugar and immediately warmed his bones, allowing his body to chase away the last
lingering touches of the autumn air.

Cassius pressed the tip of his wand to the elegant writing of their choice of dish, before placing the
parchment back into the silver holder. “This is an interesting place.”

Hadrian hummed. “Yes.”

“How are you settling in at Hogwarts?”

Terrible. “It’s fine. It’s a lot to get used to.” Hadrian shifted in the chair, watching as the
candlelight caused shadows to dance on Cassius’ face.

“It is a lot to get used to,” the other boy agreed. “But I think you have been good for us.”

Hadrian frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes, some of us can feel like we are all powerful, and get lost in that false sense of
grandeur. Being involved with Tom can make you feel like that. We all know he is an amazingly
powerful wizard but you could match him. Sometimes, when you lead a revolution, just one
powerful force is not enough. But with you on our side as well, we have a better chance of
succeeding. A lot of us feel that way.”

He grimaced. “I don’t even know what your ‘revolution’ is.”

Cassius leaned back in his chair. “We want the barriers between our world and the Muggles to
strengthen. You know what happened last time they found out about us, the hunting and killing.”
He sipped his tea. “They are a danger, look at what they have done with their weapons and
ideology in Germany.”

“Well, what about Muggleborns or Half-bloods?”

Cassius stared at him for a long moment. “Muggleborns come into our society and have no idea of
the practices of our culture. So many of our rituals and celebrations have been broken down over
time. The ritual we did the other night, the power sharing, is forbidden...seen as Dark magic. So
many branches of magic are forbidden now. You challenged that with Dumbledore.” Another
pause. “Half bloods are more complicated...maybe a necessity to ensure inbreeding isn’t rife.”

The platter of cakes suddenly appeared between them, all dusted with silvery shimmer and a range
of pink-red asters lay along one side of the wooden board.

“Tell me more about you.”

Hadrian watched as Cassius took a lemony square of cake and bit into it. “What do you want to
know?”

Cassius smiled. “I want to know who Hadrian Peverell is.”

He picked up a chocolate square and bit into the soft sponge. There was a shot of soft white
chocolate in the middle that melted into his taste buds. What could he say?

He had not realised he had been silent for so long, until Cassius chuckled. “Alright, let’s start with
Quidditch...Abraxas claims you play?”

***

It had been hours they had ended up drinking tea and eating their way through the multitude of
small cake bites. They had debated Quidditch and Cassius had not believed him when Hadrian had
told him about his riskiest move, similar to the Wronski Feint, and had challenged him to a game.
Then they had gotten onto Hadrian’s background of Defense, talking about the Patronus and
Dementors.
Hadrian had suddenly become aware of the time, expressing his need to go to the book shop, which
is why they had quickly made a stop before it shut. He had picked up a couple of books after
having a delicate, private conversation with the owner. One was a children’s book The Tales of
Beedle the Bard , which apparently was the best way to begin to learn about the Hallows. The
other was a history of ritual magic, which the owner was very reluctant to give him. He had
pocketed the books after purchasing, whilst Cassius had been flicking through a book on snakes.

“I hope you had a nice day,” Cassius commented, as they strolled back to the castle for the Feast. It
was already almost dark, the nights drawing in much earlier.

“I did. Thank you Cassius,” Hadrian replied, offering the Slytherin a smile. He rubbed his cold
hands together and drew his cloak a little higher. The temperature had plummeted, wind a little
sharper than before.

“Here.” A gloved hand took Hadrian’s arm, stopping them both on the empty road down to
Hogwarts. Cassius removed his thick, green knitted scarf and draped it over Hadrian’s shoulders,
before securing it around his neck. “It looks much better on you.”

Hadrian stared into cool blue eyes, heart beating at the other boy’s very close proximity and the
intense look Cassius was giving him. The scarf still held the warmth from the Slytherin. “Thank
you.” He flushed at how tight his voice was.

Cassius did not move away. Instead, his hand reached up, fingertips skimming Hadrian’s cheek. “I
will use this memory for when you teach me my Patronus.” His lips quirked up before he turned
and started to walk back.

Hadrian blinked rapidly. What had just happened? He shoved his hands in his pockets and hurried
to join Cassius. Luckily, Cassius began to talk about Onyx, and the care he would need growing up
- all which he had picked up in the book he had flicked through.

They entered the Great Hall, to see it in a ghostly blue glow - a myriad of floating pumpkins and
fire streaking through the enchanted night sky. The Bloody Baron was looking bored as The Fat
Friar spoke to him, animatedly waving his hands in the air.

“You did not attend your lessons,” were the first word Abraxas said to him as they seated
themselves with the Slytherins.

“Oh leave off it, Abraxas,” Cassius grumbled. “I took Hadrian to Hogsmeade to show him around.
He has ages to catch up.”

An elegant white-blonde eyebrow rose. “And he has ages to visit Hogsmeade.”

Before Cassius could respond, Hadrian made his move. “I apologise, Abraxas; I forgot entirely that
you guys usually spend the weekend in the library. After everything, I just needed to get out.”

Cool blue eyes studied him before his face softened a little. “Well, I did manage to do some extra
of my own studies, but this will mean you can teach yourself the next unit of Ancient Runes.”

Hadrian grimaced. Having never picked Ancient Runes, Abraxas was taking him through the very
basics. There were no elective subjects. Students studied everything. Everything apart from
Muggle Studies. The very thought of Tom Riddle sitting in Muggle Studies was hilarious. He
poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and gave Cassius the jug, who had slid in next to him.
Hadrian took off his outside cloak and folded the scarf up.

He kept it in his lap, unsure why he felt so embarrassed to give it back in front of everyone. The
material was thick, warm and soft to the touch. It held Cassius’ slightly citrus smell. He helped
himself to some of the food and allowed his gaze to wander to the other tables. It was a sea of
mostly unknown faces, all in their own worlds.

A hissing caught his attention as Onyx slithered up his leg. The snake had insisted on staying
behind to hunt. “ Massster, I found a big friend ,” Onyx hissed excitedly, eyes wide and tail
flicking.

Hadrian glowered at the beast, knowing that he could not respond to him. Onyx however, was
caught in his own little world. At least Riddle wasn’t around.

“I wonder if I will get asss big asss ssshe is? Ssshe mussst be very lonely. I think I will visssit her
again tomorrow.”

He listened with growing horror, aware everyone was starting to watch the snake hiss and wriggle
at him. The basilisk? Did Onyx find it? He knew that Riddle set it upon the castle last year, and
had overheard hushed conversations of Myrtle Warren - Moaning Myrtle.

Instead of shutting up, Onyx continued talked to him without a care in the world. “Ssshe is very
beautiful. Ssshe sssaysss that ssshe hasss a Massster too. I think it isss the other Ssspeaker. Why do
you not ssspeak to him? He isss very kind.”

Hadrian had to take a steady breath in to try and calm his thundering heart. He gathered his robes in
his hands and his scarf. “I forgot I need to grab a book from the library.” He moved out of the seat,
reaching out for Onyx to slither up to his arm. Ignoring the Slytherin’s odd looks, Hadrian rushed
out.

Striding through the corridors, he was glad there was no one about as everyone was at the feast.
“Onyx, I have told you to not ssspeak to me when othersss are around.”

Onyx slithered down his arm, leg and onto the stone floor, sliding along next to him. Hadrian
grimaced at the sight they must make. Ron would have had a bloody heart attack.

“I know Massster, but thisss female was ssso large and majessstic. I told her all about you.”

Hadrian stopped. “What?”

Onyx kept slithering along. “We are ssso lucky to have Ssspeakers. Ssshe told me it was a very
rare gift.”

Groaning, he pulled a hand down his face. “ It is a sssecret .” He fell back into stride with the fast,
black snake.

“Why?”

“Becaussse people think that wizardsss who ssspeak to sssnakes are usually very bad people.” He
paused, quirking an eyebrow up. “Because I think they all have been.”

“Doesss that make you a bad perssson, Masster?”

“I am not perfect, Onyx but I do not classs myssself asss bad.” They came to the dungeon entrance
and Hadrian scooped up his companion so they could descend the stairs. “It isss jussst that I do not
want people to judge me. That big sssnake’sss Massster isss a very bad perssson and I want you to
try and keep away from him.”
“But he ssstrokesss me and givesss me tasssty treatsss,” grumbled the little beast.

“I will ssstroke you and give you niccce treatsss.”

“Promissse?”

“Yesss.”

They entered the Slytherin common room and Hadrian sat down in front of the crackling fire,
facing the rest of the room so he would not be disturbed. His appetite had been lost with Onyx’s
public ramblings but it was quite nice to have some time to himself.

Hadrian removed The Tales of Beedle the Bard and began to read, losing himself in the stories next
to the warming heat of the fireplace. He had finished The Wizard and the Hopping Pot , some very
whimsical tale of Muggles and Wizards living in some kind of harmony, when the fire suddenly
distinguished.

Emerald eyes shot up, but every candle was smothered in an instant, plunging the common room in
darkness tinged with that eerie green light.

The temperature plummeted. Onyx was fast asleep still by the now-dead fire. Hadrian closed his
book, wincing at the sharp sound it made. “Hello?”

It was freezing , colder than how the dementors made him feel.

Someone was here. No...something was here. There was a flicker of movement in his peripheral
vision, and yet it vanished when he tried to seek it out in the darkness. His hand moved down to his
pocket, where his wand was.

“No need, wizard. Your magic can do nothing to me.”

Hadrian’s jaw tensed. The voice was like grinding bones, raspy and raw. It made something deep
within him convulse with dread. Not the fear a person felt towards the green light of the Killing
Curse, something much deeper than that, something primordial even.

“Who are you?”

The laugh was like shards of glass. “The veil between our worlds is so tenuous this evening...the
magic from your little ritual so...vibrant. I wanted to send you all a guest, your friends. They will
receive beloved family members, some...more unwanted guests. But you.”

Hadrian swallowed noisily. What was the time? Surely people would be coming back now from
the feast?

There was a flicker of movement once more. Hadrian did not want to stand, did not want to allow
this thing to come at him from behind.

“You are as much a stranger to this world as I am. You do not belong.” The voice grew closer.
“Your beloved have not died yet...or come of existence. I feel you have cheated me. Touched by
my cold hands.” Something brushed against his scar, causing Hadrian’s stomach to lurch and his
skin to break out in cold sweat. “Yet, I do not remember. A survivor of my grasp.”

Hadrian sucked in a breath. “I have no business with you.”

That horrifying sound came again, a mockery of a laugh. “My curiosity is piqued, young wizard.
This is no threat...yet. I will watch. For now.”

The fire exploded in the hearth, candles around the common room firing up as if nothing was
amiss. Hadrian sat there. He blinked and tried to stop the nausea bubbling in his gut. Well, if he
wasn’t fucked already, he guessed he was now.
 Chapter 12
Chapter Notes

So...this took a little longer as it is my longest chapter. I hope you enjoy!

I love seeing your comments :) and thank you all for them! You are amazing!

The first week of November passed quickly. Snow had settled early on in the week, smothering the
castle and its grounds in its cold embrace. The Sixth and Seventh year mock exams were starting
next week, and the library had been packed with students cramming information. Hadrian had kept
his head down, studying with the Slytherin boys. Even Lestrange had offered him some help with
some Transfiguration work. Riddle had hardly been around and when he asked where he was,
Hadrian only received shrugs or silence.

It was bizarre how no one spoke about the duel or what had transpired. Hadrian had no idea what
any of them thought about it. It was almost as if they had been silenced. He just knew Riddle had
something to do with it. Then again, since then everything had taken an abrupt turn for the worst,
with the bizarre dream and the horrifying visitor.

However, a few of the Slytherin boys had mentioned Halloween evening, of being visited by a
relative or so very briefly due to the ritual. When they had asked Hadrian if he had seen his mother,
he had shook his head and lied that he had seen nothing. In fact, the reality was very much one he
wanted to avoid talking about. Part of him still thought that he had dozed off and dreamt it all, but
the feeling of something brushing against his skin that had no real substance clung to his
memories.

Now, he sat on a Friday afternoon, before dinner, with Slughorn. The man’s curly brown hair was
a mass on top of his head as he poured himself a healthy glass of amber liquid.

“I would offer you one, Mr Peverell, but you still have a couple of years.” Slughorn gave him a
dithering smile before he gestured to the water on his desk. “But help yourself to a glass of that.”

Hadrian sat still. When was his birthday now anyway? If he waited until the 31st of July, he would
be over seventeen years old. If he disappeared in the middle of May… December. Sticking with the
31st would be a good hook into reality for him. December the 31st was his new birthday.

“Now, as standard practice, we will briefly go over how you have settled in. It also coincides with
looking at your future employment. At this point in the year, we need to make sure you are looking
to your future.” Slughorn sat down as he sipped his whisky. “So, Mr Peverell, how are you finding
Hogwarts?”

“Fine.”

The smile strained a little at the sides. “Well, you have an excellent knowledge of Potions. What
other subjects have you found to your liking here?”

Hadrian poured himself a glass of water. “I like Defense against the Dark Arts and although I have
not studied Ancient Runes before, I have found myself doing more reading into them in my spare
time.”

“Alright, alright. And your Professors? Are they helping you settle in for your mock
examinations?”

“Yes, it is a lot of work but Abraxas is helping me catch up. He would be a great teacher.” A smile
touched Hadrian’s lips at the thought of a Malfoy being a teacher.

“Any concerns you have about your schooling so far?”

“No, Sir.”

“I do not suppose you have any relatives left, Mr Peverell? Your name is legendary in it’s own
right, and I have not had the...privilege of meeting any of them. Perhaps we could invite them this
weekend to the party.”

Typical Slughorn. “No, my mother was the last. I would rather not discuss this, Sir.”

“Ah yes, sorry Hadrian, my apologies.” Slughorn took a hasty gulp of his drink, emitting a small
cough from the sudden burn. “Let us move on to nicer things. Now, such an independent young
man like you must have some idea of what you are going to get up to after Hogwarts?”

Hadrian grimaced at the expectant look on the Professor’s face. “No Sir, my mother taught me how
to fight Grindelwald’s followers. That was our priority.” Just substituting his experience with
‘Dumbledore’ with his fictional ‘mother’ was simple enough. Nowadays, the lies just tumbled
from his mouth without a second thought.

A ruddy flush was already a semi-permanent feature (probably down to the man’s excessive
drinking) on the man’s face, but it darkened a little. “Well, you have lots of avenues open to you,”
Slughorn blustered, rummaging in his drawer and pulling out a very thick piece of rigid parchment.
“If you look at this, it will flick through the available avenues for a graduate of Hogwarts to take.
If one looks interesting, just press your wand to it and it will give you a brief overview.”

Hadrian felt his eyebrow rise as he took the document. Where had all of this gone at Hogwarts?
Career meetings, welfare checks? Why?

“Now, my boy, I hope you don’t mind me catching up on the news whilst you read? If you need
my assistance, just ask.” Before Hadrian could reply, Slughorn had already gotten out The Daily
Prophet, licking his thumb to turn the page.

Without further thought, Hadrian looked down at the parchment, which slowly revealed a large
moving illustration of a job - with a title emblazoned on the top. The first one was of an Auror - the
illustration of a wizard in formal robes apprehending a black-cloaked figure with a spell. It was
always the choice that everyone expected of him. He spent his entire time at Hogwarts preparing to
fight the Dark Lord - one even Dumbledore could not seem to beat. Pressing his wand to the paper,
it announced in writing that it was only for ‘the best’ and had to share the vision to rid the world of
Dark magic. It listed the gradings and subjects but Hadrian found himself underwhelmed. A whole
life of fighting? Aunt Petunia used to watch Dempsy and Makepeace and The Professionals
religiously. It seemed like a lot of bother. And maybe Hadrian did not want to spend his entire life
hunting down who the Ministry deemed to be ‘corrupt’.

Hadrian pressed his wand to the parchment and it started to flick through: Professor; Sportsperson,
namedly Quidditch; other Ministry departments, including International branches; Healer; Curse-
breaker; Journalist...and a few more general ones like shopkeepers. The only other one that he
looked into was Wandmaking, but Hadrian did not think he would enjoy the monotony of the job.
Plus Ollivander was excellent anyway.

“Professor?”

Slughorn jumped a little, pulling down his paper. “Yes, Mr Peverell?”

He placed the parchment on the desk. “I do not mean to be rude, Professor. But is this it?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Hadrian frowned. “Well, there is not much outside of the Ministry.”

Slughorn placed down the paper, his hands joining together. “Our Ministry is arguably the finest in
the world.”

“It really is not for me.”

The other man looked taken aback. “Well, there are other niche professions, such as Potioneering
or independent research.”

“Why are there so little options?”

Slughorn gave a fatherly smile. “Have you seen how small our year groups are, Mr Peverell? It is
not just the war that has affected us. Small gene pools, you see?”

Hadrian frowned. “Who decides on the laws?”

“The Wizengamot. They are an assembly of wizards who hold court and final judgement upon
laws and prisoners, led by the Chief Warlock.”

Oh now he remembered. He remembered sitting in the dock in front of the whole Wizengamot
over his trial about his ‘misuse’ of magic for what happened with the dementors. A room full of
adults attacking a young teenager.

“How are they chosen?”

“The Wizengamot? Well, the Chief Warlock chooses their parliament.”

“So, they are not elected by the public?”

Slughorn chuckled, eyes twinkling. “It looks like we have a budding politician.” He looked to the
large clock on the wall. “Sadly, Mr Peverell, it is time for dinner. Perhaps we should continue this
conversation next week?”

Hadrian nodded. “I would like that, Sir.” When he left, he made a beeline for the Great Hall.

Abraxas was already sitting there with Dolohov and Nott, helping himself to some of the chicken.
His blue eyes widened at the serious expression on Hadrian’s face. Even Riddle was present today,
but he was in discussions with the two older Slytherin boys - Orion Black and Gregory Pucey.

“I will catch up with the work by myself, Abraxas. I am really grateful so far. But I have another
favour to ask.” Hadrian sat down. “I want you to teach me everything about the Wizengamot.”

He did not see a pair of dark eyes turn in his direction, when Abraxas agreed to help.
***

It was even more ostentatious than it would be in the future. The colour scheme was silver and
navy, in a good-sized hall, not the small space that would be used in the future. Clearly, Dippet felt
like he could allow Slughorn more leniency than would be given to him in the future.

Silver material was draped on every table and chair. Diaphanous, navy material hung from the
ceiling in billows, accompanied by a light layer of smoke from a baby dragon hanging in a cage
near the desserts.

There were many more people than the party Hadrian had attended before. Slughorn was laughing
with a group of men, who Abraxas and Orion Black were shaking hands with. The students invited
from Years 4 and upwards were all mingling, some dancing on a make-shift dance floor with a
band performing on a raised stage.

“And who might you be?”

Hadrian started at the sudden appearance of a man to his side. Shockingly, he knew him. He
quickly schooled his features. “Hadrian Peverell, and yourself?” He took a drink that was offered
to him on a platter by a sixth year girl.

“Sanguini.”

Hadrian took a gulp of the mead, turning to face the man. “What is a vampire doing here?”

Thin lips curled up into a smile. The man’s oiled back hair glistened in the light, reminding him of
Snape. “Rubbing elbows with some of our future leaders, of course. A Peverell. You have a fine
legacy.”

“So everyone says,” he commented dryly. “What does a vampire look for at these events?”

“An open ear, perhaps an open eye also.” Those black eyes gleamed like marbles.

Hadrian skimmed the guests. Sanguini came alone, much like last time - though a guest in the
future. Vampires and werewolves they had studied in Defense, to a gruesome scale. Both were
demonised by the wizarding world.

“Do you have much luck?”

Sanguini chuckled. “Never, but one day...perhaps.”

Hadrian wanted to grimace at what he knew. He had already seen Sanguini - barely looking older
than he did now - standing in Hogwarts at another Slug Club Party, with no one to talk to. In these
very walls, students fifty years in the future would still learn how they were big, bad and
dangerous.

“Do vampires hold a chair at the Wizengamot?”

“We have never been asked.”

Hadrian cocked his head to the side slightly. “So, your people’s voices are never heard?”
“Never, Mr Peverell.” Sanguini put his hand in his waistcoat pocket. “But I have a good feeling
about you.” He withdrew something and pressed it into Hadrian’s palm. “If you are interested in
speaking to me again, please say my name into the coin.”

As Sanguini whisked away, he opened his hand to see a metallic, ruby-red coin with an intricate
pattern spiralling into the centre. Hadrian pocketed it, unable to see the vampire anymore.

Hadrian could not stomach any more of the heavy mead, placing it on the nearest small table to
him. In his pocket, he flipped the heavy coin, pondering on the vampire’s words. Since yesterday,
Abraxas had been too busy with his own studying to start Hadrian’s journey into wizarding
politics. Hadrian had to make sure he was prepared for next week’s rounds of mock exams. They
did not have mock exams in the future, so this was a new concept. Dumbledore loved cancelling
exams.

“A bit over the top, is it not?”

Hadrian felt himself smile at the familiar tone, turning to see his sandy-blonde friend settle beside
him. “A little bit.”

“The important thing is to restrain yourself with who you will greet.” Cassius grinned. “Otherwise,
they all start to blur into one. My father already has my future planned out, so I just come here for
the drink and music.” The smile cracked a little.

“So, Slughorn’s career talk was pretty useless too?”

Cassius gave a delicate snort, brushing his shoulder against Hadrian’s. “Did he start drinking in
front of you too? He is in constant supply from my Uncle, needs a crate every two weeks at the
moment. Someday, I want to intercept one, throw a good Slytherin party when we win the next
Quidditch season.”

“How are we doing?”

“Slytherin?” Cassius pulled a face. “Behind Gryffindor. They have Enoch McClaggan and no one
can seem to get the edge on him. He is fast.” He paused. “Do you fancy having a game this week?
I want to see how good you really are, or if you are just trying to impress me.”

Hadrian flushed at the wink, his stomach tightening. He had missed quidditch. His to-do list was
growing so rapidly, he was kissing goodbye to finding any way home...even if Dippet said that it
was impossible. Then again, it had always been a good stress reliever, and he would need it after
these gruelling exams. “Just me and you, first to get the snitch wins. I don’t want it to be a game
with lots of people.”

Cassius’ face brightened. “Fantastic.” He stepped forward and then held out a hand. “Dance?”

Hadrian’s back stiffened. “I can’t dance.”

“I am a good lead.”

He rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension. “Won’t people find it weird?”

Cassius rolled his eyes playfully. “What, two men? How long have you been out of proper wizard
culture? It is fine for socialising, to dance. That is what we are doing, right?” He nodded his head
to the dance floor where young ladies danced, men and together.

Hadrian’s tongue swiped over his lower lip before taking the offered hand. He allowed Cassius to
pull him over to the floor, near to the musicians. Never had he danced with another boy. The only
dancing he had ever attempted had been with poor Parvati at the Yule Ball.

He was hyper-sensitive to every muscle and joint in Cassius’ warm hand. The lights were dim for
the winter evening and specks of snow fell from the ceiling but disappeared above the heads of the
dancers.

A hand slid around his waist and Hadrian stood there, face hurting with his blush. His hand
squeezed at his side.

“On my shoulder,” Cassius murmured gently.

Hadrian placed his hand, aware of how close they were at this moment. Cassius was just about the
same height, maybe a couple of inches taller. It wouldn’t be hard when he had spent his childhood
locked in a cupboard.

They swayed to the music, feet carrying them slowly through the other dancers. Hadrian had
averted his eyes, not able to look his friend in the eye at this close proximity.

“Were you talking to that vampire?”

The question startled him into looking into blue eyes. “Sanguini? Yes.”

Cassius’ mouth twisted. “I do not understand why Slughorn invited him. Bringing a vampire here
is dangerous. I hope he did not say anything unnecessary.”

Hadrian’s jaw clenched, something inside him shattering a little. “Why would he be dangerous?”

“They are very much an unknown. The unknown scares people.”

“Not much difference between a pair of fangs and a wand,” Hadrian commented. “Maybe they are
unknown because no one has bothered to see their side.”

Cassius hummed. “Maybe that will be your career, Hadrian, Professional Vampire Protector.”

Despite his ill feeling towards Cassius’ attitude, he felt himself smile again and sent his friend a
droll look. “Shut up.”

They danced in silence for a few moments, Hadrian breathing in the blonde’s citrus scent that was
everywhere. The music - a euphony of strings - had slowed somewhat.

“Yule is coming.”

Hadrian murmured his understanding that it was.

Cassius cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you wanted to join my family in celebrations during
the break, considering…” he trailed off, voice tightening.

Considering your family is dead ; Hadrian’s mind filled the unsaid gap. He looked up into the
boy’s expectant face. “I would love to, but...I really need to catch up on everything here, with the
library at my disposal. It would be good to have some time to get used to Hogwarts.” And get used
to this new time .

“I understand.” Cassius went to say something else, but something cut him off.

Hadrian barely managed to react before Riddle had taken his hand from Cassius, who was backing
away, head down in a slight bow. The hurt of Cassius’ subservience combined in a sickening mix
with the irritation at Riddle for his presumptuous butting in. When he went to yank his hand out,
the fingers wrapped around his tightened painfully, joints protesting against the pressure.

“Now, now, Hadrian...we do not want to cause a scene, do we?” Riddle murmured, other hand
taking his waist and pulling him closer.

“Maybe I do,” he replied through gritted teeth. His hand ended up taking Riddle’s shoulder, despite
his words. “Although, I think you have already created one.” Cassius was joining Silas and Dorian
on the outskirts of the dance floor, all the boys watching them with curiosity burning on their
faces.

Riddle started to move, leading him across the floor. His cinnamon eyes never left Hadrian’s, as if
searching for something hidden in those emerald depths. Hadrian’s scar pulsed, his magic core
unfurling. He tried to move out of the other Slytherin’s grasp, panicking about what might happen
if he remained, but Riddle held on tighter.

“ Priori Incantatem .” Riddle’s curl hung over his forehead, his high cheekbones stark in the dim
light of the dancefloor. “Brother wands, which means that we can never fight without that
occurring. You did not look surprised.”

Hadrian swallowed, trying to look away but failing. His Occlumens shields were up, having
practiced a lot since the duel, but he knew Riddle could rip them away and destroy him in an
instant. It was their magic that was catching his attention. The tingle of his scar was nothing to the
dancing of their magic between their bodies.

“I have allowed you your secrets, allowed you to join in on our ritual.” Riddle’s voice was low. “I
grow weary of not knowing who you are, Hadrian. A boy who can speak to snakes. A boy who
uses a false name.”

“What are you talking about?” He grew rigid, once more trying to remove himself, but instead his
magic continued to dance and merge with Riddle’s, shackling them together.

“You have read to me Salazar Slytherin’s words, written in Parseltongue. You have understood me
when I have spoken it, only barely managing not to react.” Riddle’s face was pulled into an intense
expression, something twisting in those dark eyes. “I had my suspicions. You really think it was
Avery’s idea to get you the snake?”

Hadrian’s mouth was dry. “Stop.” He threw up a wandless Muffliato , creating a sudden
background of buzzing.

Riddle’s face lowered, mere inches away. “Why? Is it hard to hear the truth?” His hand on
Hadrian’s waist tightening, pulling them physically closer.

“People will-”

“There is a Disillusionment charm already up. Though, that charm you have used is certainly
useful.” Riddle whisked them away to the shadowy corner of the dancefloor, away from most of
the guests. “I have checked on the Peverells, and your line is very dead. I do not believe you are
who you say you are. I saw your use of magic during Priori Incantatem , and a slither of what
looked like an older Slughorn. In your mind, I saw myself in the Chamber of Secrets, standing over
a flame-haired girl. A place you should not know. A girl I do not know.”

Hadrian felt his back touch the stone wall, the tingle in his scar a slight burn that made it hard to
construct viable thoughts. “No.” He realised he was repeating the word when he felt Riddle’s body
press into his, pinning him physically to the wall.

“Yes,” Riddle hissed. “You are an intruder.”

“No,” Hadrian replied, eyes flashing with fury. “Let me go, Riddle, or I will make you regret it.”

Something changed in Riddle’s expression, darkening his cinnamon eyes. Their magic sang
between them, bright and dark at the same time, swirling until it was hard to distinguish between
the two boys.

“No...I don’t think that I will.” Riddle’s face moved lower, so that their lips were a breath away.

Hadrian swallowed, heart undulating rapidly against his rib cage. “What do you want from me?”

“Isn’t that the question?” came the deep purr that reverberated through their bodies. “Join me.”

Hadrian grimaced. “No. I will never be one of your followers, Riddle.”

A smile curved those lips. “Our magic...joined like this...we could accomplish
anything...everything.”

“Fuck-”

Lips covered his. Hadrian’s eyes grew as the magic became a maelstrom inside his body, joined
with the hard press against his mouth. He shoved as hard as he could, Riddle stumbling back a little
before he caught himself.

The magic snapped back between them.

Riddle schooled his expression into an infuriatingly neutral expression. “Think about it some more
Hadrian, but I should let you know that I will not take ‘no’ as your answer.” The spells dropped and
the Slytherin strode over to join the party.

Hadrian placed a finger to his lips, which still throbbed from the kiss. His second kiss...from the
man who would kill his parents. Why would Riddle do that? But it was his magic that tore him
from that thought. His hand travelled up to his scar, but he hissed and drew it away. The skin was
sensitive to the touch, sending tingles through every one of his limbs. His magic was jittery, as if it
did not belong in his body.

And something else. Something was different. There was an emptiness he had not noticed before.

“Hadrian!” It was Slughorn, bringing over a group of mostly men.

He looked around but Riddle had vanished. His time was running out with the other boy, and he
did need to make a choice. It made him feel sick, with the responsibility of the decision...knowing
that he will change things forever. And there would be no going back.
 Chapter 13
Chapter Notes

Thank you all for your lovely comments! I have opened it for anyone to comment now
(having not realised I left it so closed!)

I hope you enjoy this!

November passed in a heartbeat, as did the beginning of December. Snow had enclosed the
students inside Hogwarts, a winter even more harsh than the usual Scottish standards. Quidditch
matches were almost too cold to attend. Hadrian had not managed his match with Cassius after the
mock examinations were finally over, with the extreme change of weather and the disquiet Hadrian
felt on a daily basis.

Ever since the incident with Riddle at Slughorn’s party, his magic had been...aggravated. That, and
his mind seemed to go over the ‘kiss’ with Riddle. Why had the Slytherin done that? Too many
times he had found his mind wandering, almost with grim fascination of his second-ever kiss being
stolen so roughly by the future-Dark Lord. It had felt like pure domination, especially considering
he had been about to tell Riddle to ‘fuck off’.

His marks were very good in most subjects, the only ones he was slipping on being Ancient Runes
and Arithmancy. Of course, Tom Riddle achieved the highest marks in the year group in all
subjects apart from one. Dumbledore had mentioned how smart he had been at school. The one
that Riddle did not achieve top marks in was Defense against the Dark Arts. Hadrian had secured
that. It was a duel against a Ravenclaw that secured his top place, using an array of ‘school-
friendly’ spells and his trusty Patronus that he knew would impress. Professor Merrythought
couldn’t stop talking about it.

It was the day before everyone went home, and the weather had eased enough for the game against
Cassius. Hadrian handled the school broom and winced at the poor handling and direction it had.
He had completely forgotten they would be fifty years behind in technology. They even swerved
left if you did not have a good enough grip and a pinch of patience. It would be one of the earliest
Comets. Comet 140.

Luckily, he had gotten to the pitch earlier for a quick session beforehand to warm up. He was
sitting atop the broom, way above the training ground, eating the apple he had grabbed for lunch.

Hogwarts looked utterly beautiful. Its spires and turrets were clear of the fog that had looked like it
had set up permanent residence last week. Tendrils of sunlight wrapped around each tower, almost
comfortingly. Hogwarts had always been home. Before his Sixth year had started, when
Dumbledore sat in the Dursleys living room, he had said that Privet Dive was a ‘home’ to Harry
Potter and that was why the protection around his house had been strong - along with Petunia being
a blood relative. But that was a lie. He had felt more at home one night at Hogwarts, than he had
ever been there.

There was a thick covering of snow on the castle and trees surrounding it. It did not look real.
Despite the change in time period, it was still breath-taking. He still felt safe inside its walls (even
if he knew there was a basilisk deep in the bowels that apparently Onyx had a friendship with).
Hadrian took another large bite from the shiny, green apple before vanishing its remains. He
spotted a figure moving out of the changing rooms, broom in hand.

Cassius mounted his broom, ascending to Hadrian’s height. “How did you find the broom?” he
called over the distance.

“Quite standard.” Hadrian shrugged. “It will do. Do you have the snitch?”

Cassius reached into his quidditch robe pocket, pulling out the golden orb, which unfurled its
wings. “Of course.” He grinned. “So, we give it ten seconds when released, and then the first one
to catch it wins. Understand, Peverell?”

Hadrian returned the grin, watching Cassius’ floppy blonde hair get teased with the wind. “Scared,
Avery?”

“Never.” Cassius released the snitch.

Both boys’ eyes followed the golden ball whisky away, whispering the countdown to ten. Hadrian
gripped the broom, arching his back. When he hit ten, both of them sped off.

The wind whistled in his ears, and although it was cold his body was up for the race. Adrenaline
pumped through his system, everything disappearing apart from the driving need to capture the
snitch before Avery.

Avery was fast, weaving in and out as he descended to scope out the ball, trying to throw Hadrian
off. Hadrian, however, had made his way to the centre of the training pitch. It was much better
without glasses. Hermione used to charm his lenses against the rain, but this was a whole new
level. Knowing there had been a cure - however temporary - only served to inflame his anger
towards his ex-Headmaster.

There.

A flourish of gold. Hadrian shot forward, eyes honing in on the fluttering ball.

Cassius was swift in seeing Hadrian’s change of direction, swooping down to try and outpace the
raven-haired Slytherin. The wind howled in their ears, cold air pinching their hands that gripped
the handles of the brooms.

Faster. Hadrian pushed with all of his might, willing it forward.

The snitch rose abruptly in the air, sensing the two boys on its tail. They both followed, Cassius
now matching his speed.

Hadrian whipped up, inwardly cursing at the resistance from the broom. Never had he missed his
Firebolt so much. He spun up in the air, and when he risked a glance at Avery, he realised the boy
was following his movements more than the snitch.

A smirk curled his mouth. Hadrian zoned in on the snitch, and suddenly pulled away, spiralling up
into the air. Cassius followed him up, but Hadrian had never let his eyes roam from the golden ball
that hovered back to the ground. When he was high enough and aware that the other Slytherin was
bombing up to meet his height, Hadrian released.

His broom hurtled to the ground. Hadrian let out a joyful laugh at the free-falling sensation. The
grass was getting nearer...and nearer… His hair whipped against his scalp, pulling on the strands as
if nature was panicking and trying to pull him back up.
At the last moment, Hadrian pulled up the handle with all his might. His feet brushed the dewy
grass as he lunged out and grasped his prize.

The wings fluttered uselessly in his palm. Hadrian grinned up at Cassius, who was descending
rapidly after him, blue eyes as wide as The Bloody Baron’s waist.

“What was that ?” Cassius exclaimed. His booted feet hit the ground, perfect hair now in disarray.
“You could have died .”

Hadrian laughed. “But I won.” He pinched the snitch between his forefinger and thumb, revealing
it to his friend.

“You are mad.” Cassius shook his head. “But that was amazing.”

He hopped off his broom. “Dinner?” Striding over to the changing rooms, he was aware of the
other boy following him.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“It just was the right thing to do,” he answered, entering the empty building.

Cassius gave a graceful snort. “Come on, Hadrian. You must have had some tutor - been some kind
of child prodigy...or something?”

Hadrian placed the Comet back in the broom rack, placing the snitch into a wooden hole where it
would be cleansed. “I didn’t ride a broom until I was eleven. No tutor, just myself.”

“I am going to quit my position as seeker, please take it!”

He arched an eyebrow at him as he started to shrug off the flying robes Cassius had loaned him. “I
have enough to catch up on. You saw my scores in Runes and Arithmancy.”

“But the glory!” Cassius breathed. “Slytherin would win!”

Hadrian grinned at his friend’s enthusiasm. “Well, I prefer just a quiet match with you. But, if you
want, I can think about it. Besides, you were not bad...you just need a few pointers.” He pulled off
the robes, folding it onto the bench he stood at, and pulled off his fitted, black undershirt.

“A few pointers?” Cassius had removed his flying robes and stood there, next to Hadrian.

“You need to watch the snitch instead of the other seeker.” He turned to face those blue eyes, who
were watching him intently.

“It is hard, when that other seeker is you.”

Hadrian’s throat tightened when he tried to swallow. “Cassius-”

The other Slytherin’s pale hand came up, to move a wayward raven lock from Hadrian forehead,
eliciting a shudder from the ex-boy-who-lived. “I thought I was being obvious. The lunch, the
scarf, the dance at the party…but I guess I am a bit rusty.”

“What?” He blushed at how hoarse his voice sounded.

Cassius stepped forward, closing the small distance between them so that their chests touched -
Hadrian’s bare and Cassius’ still clothed. “Can I?”
Nothing came to Hadrian’s mind. It was empty, shocked into utter submission by the question. The
hand that had touched his hair, trailed down to cup his jaw, thumb caressing the skin. He did not
know who moved first, but he found his lips pressing against soft, pliable ones.

What did he need to do with his hands? Was he doing it properly? God, he hoped Cassius did not
cry… Hadrian’s mind spun with a multitude of worries until Cassius’ hand moved once more to the
back of his head, pressing their lips closer. He gasped at the sensation, and the other Slytherin’s
tongue swiped in, brushing his.

There was a moan. Was it him? Hadrian’s mind fell apart as he hesitantly reciprocated, their kiss
deepening further. His senses were full of Cassius - his lemony smell and the taste of his friend’s
mouth.

Seconds...minutes later - he had completely zoned out of being aware of any time - Cassius
withdrew, both of them panting lightly. He pressed his forehead against Hadrian’s.

“I am going to miss you over Christmas,” the boy breathed. “I wish you would reconsider my
invitation.”

Hadrian blinked, lost in those deep blue eyes. “I know.”

Cassius pressed another, brief kiss to Hadrian’s reddened lips. “I like you, Hadrian. You are unlike
anyone else.” He gave a small smile. “Let me take you out again, when we return?”

He could only give a nod in response. Cassius laughed before starting to get changed into his
casual robes for dinner.

Hadrian was slow in pulling his clothes off, feeling self-conscious for the first time. The scars
littered his body, ones he did not want to explain. Plus, his mind was in overdrive. It had been his
second kiss with another boy - if he could call what he had with Riddle a ‘kiss’. Out of three kisses,
two had now been with the same sex. Was he gay? Vernon was a raging homophobe - switching
off the television when anything like ‘that’ was being ‘paraded around’. He always ranted about
the ‘queers’ and the ‘poofs’, especially on how society was pushing these views on
‘impressionable minds’. Once, he had even threatened Dudley that if he ever turned out to be a
‘poof’, he would beat it out of him with his Smeltings stick.

His kiss was Cho had been...awful, a mix of confusion and salty tears. Ginny had always been
infatuated with him, even before she had even met him. She was pretty, in her own way. But
Cassius was extraordinarily handsome, with those blue eyes and soft lips.

How was being gay seen in the 1940s wizarding world? Hadrian quickly stopped those thoughts. It
was not to say he was gay. He would try and see if he could still appreciate how attractive the
ladies were in Slytherin.

But he had already agreed to go on another ‘date’ with Cassius, and his heart would not stop
beating rapidly.

Hadrian bit his lower lip, pulling his robes on. At least he had Christmas break to think it all
through.

“Ready?”

He nodded, gathering up the borrowed robes and charming it to pocket sized before he handed it
over. “Thanks for letting me borrow them.”
“Anytime.” Cassius winked as they exited the building and meandered over to the castle.

***

Slytherin was empty. A first year and a couple of third year students had remained, but kept away
from Hadrian. In fact, he barely saw them at all, especially given that he spent most of his time in
the library, swamped in books.

The first few days had passed too quickly. He drank in the information he gathered from the books
and old newspapers. The research with the Hallows had begun with numerous readings of The Tale
of the Three Brothers. Grindelwald was apparently after them, to become some self-dubbed
‘Master of Death’. That research had led him down the path of chasing down Grindelwald’s entire
past, leaning on the archived newspapers for information.

It had led down to a person he least expected. He should have seen it really. It was pure naivety
that he did not. Grindelwald had published something when he had left Durmstrang, a few years
after perhaps, about how muggles were vermin and that it was wizards who needed to take back
control. At the end of that article, Grindelwald had made notes of travelling to solidify his research
into the power of wizards, with one Albus Dumbledore.

That was why Hadrian was standing in front of Dumbledore’s office.

The door opened, and Hadrian entered as a soft voice bid him to do so. Entering, Hadrian was
unsurprised by the ostentatious decor. Lots of coloured fabrics and strange objects that twisted and
twirled next to the books on the numerous bookcases around the large space. There were a few
awards hanging on the walls: British Youth Representative to the Wizagamont , Gold Medal-
Winner for Ground-Breaking Contribution to the International Alchemical Conference in Cairo,
and Winner of the Barnadas Finkley Prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting ...amongst others.The
perks of being Albus Dumbledore. What Hadrian had to keep at the forefront of his mind was that
he was not dealing with a stupid man.

“Mr Peverell.”

There was surprise in that voice, and it empowered him a little as he took the chair on the other
side of the desk. “Thank you for seeing me over the break, Professor.” He had his Occlumency
shields up. Like Riddle, the man could plough through...but Hadrian knew Dumbledore would
never do that.

“Sherbert lemon?” A slightly wrinkled hand gestured to the glass bowl of luminous yellow sweets
sitting on the edge.

“No, thank you.”

“A tea perhaps, then?”

Hadrian declined once more. Given he was about to broach a topic the other man would not like,
he wanted to avoid any tampering through food or drinks. It horrified him that he even had
thoughts that Dumbledore would do that, but he was through being naive.

“Then, how can I help you, Mr Peverell?” Those eyes searched his, and found nothing. There was
no twinkle, only the type of suspicion that Hadrian had seen in Riddle’s diary aimed at the young
Dark Lord.

“I was wondering if you could tell me about Grindelwald, Professor.” Before Dumbledore could
interject, he continued hastily, “My mother was killed by his followers, and she spoke nothing of
the man. She shielded me from it all. I was looking into him in the library, when I found an article
about the both of you travelling together for a while.”

Dumbledore was silent for a long time, a finger tapping on the edge of his desk. “Grindelwald is
a...secretive man, Hadrian. I cannot claim to know a lot about him at all.”

Hadrian shrugged. “Can you tell me what you know? I want to know about the man who murdered
my mother.”

“For what end?”

“What do you mean?”

Dumbledore sighed. “Sometimes, knowing more can make the task of revenge or forgiveness a
hard road to travel.”

He gave a hard smile. “I can cope, Professor.”

“Grindelwald is a...disillusioned man. He fights under the motto ‘For the Greater Good’ - a
concept that he believes we should rule over muggles.”

There was a flicker of something on that wizening face that Hadrian latched onto. “Have you ever
believed that?”

Dumbeldore could not hide the shadow of shock that flitted across his face. He drew a hand down
his eyes, rubbing them tiredly. “Grindelwald is persuasive. He attracts followers to him like moths
to a flame. That is the true power of a Dark Lord, seduction into their beliefs. To answer your
question, Mr Peverell, we all make mistakes in our youth and our only chance is to rectify that in
our future.”

Hadrian shifted in the chair. Dumbledore had not been a youth when he had first visited Tom
Riddle in the orphanage, where he had revealed the little boy that he was a thief and that talking to
snakes was not ‘normal’. Would Riddle have turned out differently if he had someone like
Dumbledore to coach him, rather than embarrass and judge him?

“Do those people deserve to die?”

“Grindelwald is a highly intelligent man, who I believe can be redeemed.”

“When does he go past redemption? He has killed so many.”

Dumbledore grimaced. “I believe we all have our own lines that people can cross. Yours and mine,
may differ for example.”

“How does Grindelwald seduce people into killing or adopting such a totalitarian approach?”

“Power is addictive.” Dumbledore sipped his tea, not meeting the vivid emerald eyes opposite.
“Magic and good looks can get you to very high places, where people want to be with you...so that
you feel their attention is on you. People like Grindelwald make others feel special, even when he
holds them in contempt.”
An absolute parallel to Riddle. Could Hadrian actually do anything to stop Riddle going down his
future path? It seemed so final. “You were his friend, could you not speak reason to him?”

In the future, Hadrian knew that the Professor would defeat Grindelwald, that was common
knowledge. He knew that Dumbledore would not kill him, but the Dark Lord would be sentenced
to live out his years in a prison. However, Harry Potter had been tasked with the destruction of
Voldemort, seeking out horcruxes to kill the man.

“Reason is only effective when the other party is willing to listen,” Dumbledore explained.

Hadrian nodded with understanding. “Can I ask, Sir, why would you be friends with someone who
was expelled for use of extreme Dark Arts? I believe you are fully against that ideology.”

Again, there was a long silence. “The only answer I can give you, Mr Peverell, is that sometimes,
in your youth, you can be vain and believe that you know better than everyone else. We may live
the rest of our lives venturing for clemency for our past crimes.”

“Thank you Sir, and I just have one more question.”

Dumbledore nodded wearily. “Yes?”

“One of the Hallows is claimed to be a Cloak of Invisibility. How would you tell, against a usual
Invisibility Cloak?”

A grey-auburn eyebrow rose. “The Hallows are a mere myth, Mr Peverell.”

“Theoretically.” He gave a charming smile.

Another, longer sip of tea. “The Cloak of Invisibility would last forever in its charm to avoid
detection. Other...replicas would become less effective over time, usually a few years. The Cloak
would last forever in its charms, never wavering. There are those who believe the user to be
completely protected underneath from all spells, but that may be less true.”

Hadrian had gotten what he wanted. He stood. “Thank you, Professor, for your time.”

The smile he received was stretched. “That is alright, Mr Peverell. However, if I could give you
words to leave by - the Hallows are a bedtime story for children. One would not be smart to chase
after a fairytale. Too many good men have been lost in the quest.”

Giving a final thanks, Hadrian exited the office, feeling lighter in step. The Hallows existed. He
had once owned one, without even knowing...handed to him by Dumbledore himself. There was no
other explanation. A cloak that had existed for decades, no - centuries - without losing any part of
its power. Now, all he had to do, was take it back.
 Chapter 14
Chapter Notes

I hope you enjoy this installment!

It clears up some questions some of you had in the last chapter's comments about the
cloak etc. I had trouble with allergies so apologies it is not as long as the last couple of
chapters. I will make up for it with the events of the next chapter!

Hadrian adjusted the scarf around his neck - Cassius’ scarf, which he had not let Hadrian return
after that Hogsmeade lunch together. His friend had also sent him a Christmas gift. A brand new
Cleansweep Four with a message to really think about becoming Seeker. Broomsticks had been
gifted to him in the future, but this one had felt...different. Cassius had kissed him. Over the past
two weeks of the Christmas holidays, he had tried checking out any female in his year group or
above that was left. Romance had never been his priority. Ron and Hermione knew how obsessed
he had been with chasing after Malfoy, so maybe there had been something there. Not that Draco
Malfoy was his choice at all. Besides, no one male or female had caught his eye in his ventures to
try and figure out his sexuality.

Dippet stared at him across the desk, his face neutral. They had sat in silence for a good few
minutes, the Headmaster expecting Hadrian to break it first. It was clear that the older man had not
expected Hadrian to actually turn up when requested.

“The weather has been...seasonal,” Hadrian commented.

A pained look flitted over the Headmaster’s face. “Hadrian, really?”

He smirked. “So, you did not want to talk about the weather? This isn’t that kind of chat?”

“I am pleased over your results, especially your Defense against the Dark Arts. A patronus.”
Dippet looked over the parchment laid out on the desk before him. “Professor Merrythought is
singing your name to the staff body. There are a few...other areas to work on.”

“Yes.” Hadrian rested back in the chair. “I have already started work on them. Arithmancy and
Ancient Rules are electives in the future, but my Housemates are helping.”

“You are applying yourself...and with that, can I ask what you have decided moving forward?”

Hadrian averted his eyes to the stone phoenix statue that was wrapped around the side of a large,
oak bookcase. “The future I came from...may not exist anymore. If your friend stated that the past
was changed after five hours...well, I have already been here two and a bit months.”

“Perhaps you need not worry, given that your interactions have been limited to Hogwarts?”

His mouth twisted. Oh, he would love to believe that. But his fate had been sealed when he had
caught Riddle’s eye. Something had happened to his magic during that ritual he had joined. That
strange, empty feeling had grown every day of the holiday. Too often, he had found himself staring
into space and unable to concentrate.
“I believe, given my knowledge of the future...that I would be right in my assumptions. Besides, I
have a choice, don’t I?” He paused. “I could lock myself away trying to go back to a broken future,
where the people around me die. Or...I try and make it different. I would like to spend some time
with your Unspeakable friend to talk about it all. If I am never born in the future, then do I not exist
at all? Or if I am born, could two of us exist together?”

Dippet hummed speculatively. “Yes. No doubt he will want to meet you. Under our Vow, I will
only be able to say so much.”

“Yes.” He chewed on his lower lip.

“How do you feel about the idea of not returning?”

Hadrian closed his eyes. “I try not to think about it. I leave everything behind...my friends, my
home, my reality…”

“You also leave behind your abusers, and have a chance of saving the ones you love.”

He took a deep breath in. “I have to craft a whole new identity here.”

“That can be both an exciting and daunting prospect.” He paused. “I admit, I worry about the
influence Tom Riddle may have on you...if your recount of who he is, is true, given the new
friendships you have forged.”

Hadrian released a dry laugh. “Headmaster, he killed my parents.”

“On the contrary, he hasn’t yet, Hadrian.”

He sighed, rubbing his left temple. Oh, he knew that.

Dippet dropped a sugar cube into the cup of tea he poured. “Have you thought about your influence
on him?”

“Riddle is already set in his ways.”

“Is he?” Dippet stirred his tea. “Anyway, Hadrian, I brought you here initially to talk about the
plans for the school year and going forward. Given your circumstances, I believe that we will have
to make provisions for you to stay here over summer. It will give you time to get acquainted with
the knowledge of the library, and to provide you a safe place. You are now of wizarding age,
which means you can use magic outside the walls freely. Have you decided on your new birthdate,
regardless?”

“The 31st of December 1926.”

Dippet gave him a long look before scribbling it down on one of the parchments in front of him. “I
see.” He placed down the quill. “So, Mr Peverell, I have secured you into the school’s orphan
funding, which is all linked to the coin Professor Slughorn handed over to you. Your books, robes
and essential school supplies are always paid by the Ministry. Each month, you will receive ten
galleons.”

Hadrian just nodded along. The only possessions he had (from his own time) was an old copy of
Advanced Potions that had gotten him into this mess to begin with and his wand. In his rush to get
rid of the book, he had swept up to the dormitories, dumping his Invisibility Cloak and the
Marauder's Map. There was no way he was going to bring them to Snape’s office, lest the guy
make Harry empty his pockets.
“I take it you have been keeping up your shields?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Dippet pursed his lips before meeting emerald eyes. “Given your past, I would advise that we book
you in appointments with Healer Roberts.”

Hadrian raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“To speak through your childhood trauma, and the trauma left behind by the incidents so far in
your schooling years.”

He shook his head. “No.” At the Headmaster’s speculative look, he sighed. “I just want to move
forward, but I will keep it in mind.”

“Fine, Mr Peverell.”

Hadrian stood up, thanking the man before leaving. He swept through the castle, finally ending up
at the statue of the One-Eyed-Witch, muttering the password: Dissendium .

It took an hour to meander down the long passage, emerging into Honeyduke’s cellar. He cast a
quick disillusionment spell, heading up into the main body of the shop where a spattering of locals
scanned the shelves.

When outside, he travelled swiftly down an alleyway and disapperated.

Stomach wrenching, Hadrian forced his arm out to support him, hand clenching around the iron
railing. Ever since the 31st, he had made journeys out to Hogsmeade each afternoon to practice
apparating elsewhere. It was lucky that in his own time he had gotten practice, and it had taken a
lot of attempts at longer lengths (with a lot of chocolate to ease his stomach).

It was the longest he had travelled so far - Scotland to the West Country. Hadrian squeezed his
eyes shut, getting his bearings before opening them once more.

There was no snow, just a smattering of wetness on the grass that made it glisten. He was in a
small graveyard with rows upon rows of tombstones. Some were crumbling, the claws of time
wiping away the names etched into the stones. His eyes flicked over them, seeing names he was
very familiar with: Dumbledore, Potter, Peverell, Abbott …

Lamps were flickering with the first signs of life as darkness started to draw in, in the late
afternoon. The houses were all very old, with exposed wooden beams from the outside and quaint
thatched roofs. A few people were walking past on the cobblestone street, arm in arm as they spent
the new year together. In his future, his parents probably did the same before they had Harry. They
would have only been twenty-one when they had him. It was a bizarre thought to think that he was
not far off that age now.

Hadrian walked out of the graveyard, burying his lower face into the green folds of the scarf
around his neck. Luckily, his robes would look much like a long winter coat.

He passed down many houses, feeling the magic of each house he walked past. Not all of them had
magic, revealing the existence of Muggles living beside wizards unknowingly. He stopped as an
old woman exited one of the houses he was nearest to - a Muggle.

“Excuse me.”
Her head rose from where she had just locked her door, a smile crossing her red-painted lips. “Yes,
young lad?”

“I am looking for a relative of mine - Fleamont Potter. Do you know where he lives?”

Her very wrinkled face pulled down into sorrow. “Another orphan? I am so sorry, my boy.” She
paused, slipping her key into her bag. “Fleamont, yes, he lives at the cottage on the other side of
the church, just on the outskirts - number three.”

“Thank you.” Hadrian left the woman to follow her instructions, finally standing across the road
from the two-storey building. He used the shadows to mask himself, watching from the high wall
that separated the church from the graveyard.

There were two lights on in the bottom floor. Hadrian drew out a few biscuits from his pocket
before sitting down on the cold pavement. He cast a cushioning charm and settled himself in for
the evening.

***

It was the day before term would resume, that Hadrian made his move. He had spent seven days
waiting in Godric’s Hollow, outside the Potter’s residence. Every afternoon until dinner, some even
through dinner. He could not risk too much attention on him missing meals, so he made sure there
was no pattern. Even apparating had become a lot easier.

Seeing Fleamont and Euphemia Potter together, coming in and out of the house, made him feel a
little odd. At the beginning, part of him wanted to walk up to them and just go out and spill
everything. His grandparents that he had never known. They could take him in. They could
become a family.

However, it was all a pipe dream. One he could not be sucked into.

It was all about the cloak now.

A few times, he had gone up to the house, felt its wards. One time, they had left the kitchen
window open a little, and he had managed to slip his arm through.

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter always went for a long stroll at about four o’clock in the afternoon,
which would last an hour. They would walk through the village, before going out into the
countryside to sit by a stream for a while.

Hadrian strode up to the backdoor, that they left unlocked. With the wards, the Potters would
assume safety. Naive. It seemed to be a Potter trait, he thought acidically. He turned the handle,
and walked into the kitchen. It was full with the fragrant smell of basil and thyme, mixed with the
cooking of chicken. He bent down to peer into the oven, his stomach rumbling at the look of the
pale meat browning.

He quickly straightened, knowing that he was on a hunt for the cloak. Hadrian started to go
through the rooms downstairs, not taking too long because the cottage only had a living area and a
dining area that were cosy but everything was neatly ordered.

Upstairs was a different story. There was a main bedroom, bathroom, a study and a potions
laboratory. It was satirical to think that his family had a history of brewing, especially with a
school history of Snape belittling his efforts. He started with the bedroom, going through the
trunks and focusing mostly on Fleamont’s belongings, given that Euphemia had married into the
family. It was difficult making sure that everything went back the same way. Getting slightly
sweaty with the ticking time, he found himself in the study.

A door sounded downstairs, and voices in the living room.

Hadrian cursed, charming his feet quiet and slowly pushing the door to. He rolled his tight
shoulders and started to resume his search. The study was a mess. There were boxes, trunks and
nooks and crannies stuffed with junk.

Suddenly, there were footsteps - wood creaking underfoot. Hadrian spun around, eyes blowing
wide open when he came face-to-face with Fleamont Potter.

Before the older man had a chance to react, Hadrian wordlessly cast ‘ Imperio ’. He leaned in as
those blue eyes became slightly milky-white in colour. “Turn around, forget you saw anyone here.
Go downstairs to your wife and help her with dinner. You have no interest in going upstairs again
for the next few hours,” he hissed.

With jagged movements, Fleamont turned around. He shook his body in the doorway before
resuming his usual walk. Hadrian held his breath until he heard the man greet his wife loudly, with
warmth in his voice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he bit out, resuming his search. How many laws was he breaking right now?
Breaking into his ancestors home...using an Unforgivable...and intention to steal…

Then he saw it. The material slipped through his fingers, like unicorn blood - thick and silvery.
Hadrian grinned. He pulled it out of the dusty box, grin turning to a grimace at the state of how it
had been kept. In an instant, he did not regret anything. His cloak was back in his hands.

One of the Hallows.

Hadrian draped it over his shoulders, cocooning himself in its folds until he was invisible. He
breathed in before disapparating out to Hogsmede.

Snow was falling all around, and Hadrian looked up at the air and took another big breath of frigid
air. It entered his lungs, stretching them to capacity. His hands bunched in the familiar folds of his
cloak. Out of the Hallows, this was - in his opinion - the most powerful. To hide from Death was
stuff of legends. An impossible feat. But now possible. But it was also a gateway to the future -
Harry’s past. He had discovered the Mirror of Erised with its shield, found out Sirius Black’s
relationship to him by spying on Fudge...amongst other adventures. Such fond memories woven
into this lustrous fabric.

There was a slight spring in his step as he returned to the castle. As he got close, he pulled off his
cloak and stashed it in his satchel. By the state of that study in the Potter’s place, Fleamont would
not be missing it anytime soon. It was a travesty, keeping a family heirloom stuffed away in some
dusty old box.

Hadrian had never used the Imperius curse before, and he felt awfully cheery after casting it. After
all, it had paved the way to him reclaiming his property. It was definitely one of the least
dangerous of the Unforgivables that he could have used. Now this opened up more avenues for him
in the castle, but also if Death came knocking again he would be prepared to avoid its morbid
curiosity of him.
 Chapter 15
Chapter Notes

Thank you all for your lovely comments and sorry I have not managed to reply! I
wanted to get stuck into this as things start to shift from now, so get ready!

“Welcome all, to our post-Yule feast, to welcome you all back for our next term at Hogwarts,”
Dippet began. “May I offer congratulations to four of our students who have come-of-age over the
holidays, and progress to adulthood in the Wizarding World. Olive Hornby from Hufflepuff,
Margot Droope from Ravenclaw, and from Slytherin Thomas Riddle and Hadrian Peverell.”

There was a restrained round of applause.

“However, a few of us have taken the decision to not return for the rest of this academic year, due
to the rising situation across Europe. The Ackers and Huxleys have both suffered losses in their
families, and we must think about them and support them during this time.”

Hadrian shifted. Grindelwald and Hitler, what a combination. Both the Wizarding and Muggle
world terrorised by megalomaniacs.

“It is a very sombre time, but know that in these walls, myself and your Professors will always
have your safety as our priority. Please, let the feast begin, and converse with your peers. We need
to be with each other at this time.” Dippet bowed his head and retreated to the top table, prompting
the food to appear at the tables.

Hadrian turned to look at his friends. Abraxas was directly opposite him and everyone was there
apart from Cassius.

“You did not tell us you were coming-of-age, Hadrian,” the Malfoy said smoothly, blue eyes
flashing over him. “It is tradition to have gifts from family and friends.”

He shrugged, his cheeks tinging with colour. “It really is no big deal.”

“It is a massive deal,” Lestrange cried out, before biting into a carving of beef.

“So, when was it?” Abraxas asked.

“The thirty-first.” Hadrian placed some potatoes on his plate, but his eyes rose at the silence that
followed.

Dolohov however, had not read the room. He grinned. “The same as Tom.”

Hadrian’s jaw locked, his fork hovering over his plate. No wonder why Dippet had seemed taken
aback. The Headmaster could have said something. He could not help but look over at Riddle, who
was seated next to Abraxas - pretty much in the centre of the group of boys. Those cinnamon eyes
caught his and held for a long moment. It was bizarre, but the emptiness Hadrian had felt over the
past two weeks seemed less cavernous ever since they had all sat down for dinner. His magic
seemed a bit more placated.
Surprisingly, it was Riddle that broke the silence. “Professor Slughorn will want to meet with us, to
talk through expectations in adulthood.”

Hadrian gave a stiff nod, playing with his food with his fork. “Where is Cassius anyway?”

Once more, a silence fell over them before Abraxas cleared his throat. “He was not feeling well.”

The rest of the meal went well. Most of them discussed what they had done over Yule, with the
Malfoy’s having held a party with a multitude of respected guests that all of them had attended.
Riddle remained silent, as per usual, but everyone else was in good spirits. Silas had even engaged
Hadrian in a conversation about Quidditch and he inwardly thanked Hermione for gifting him
Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland , which had given detailed reports of the history of each
team. Many hours upon hours he had spent with Ron pouring over the pages and quizzing each
other instead of doing the essays they had been set.

Hadrian had left dinner earlier than most. Onyx had been hunting and he had agreed to meet him
near the Slytherin common room so that Riddle did not intercept his companion before he did.

As he strode down the corridor towards the entrance to the dungeons, he thought about the other
Slytherin. This was the period in which he had no idea when and where Riddle was starting to
construct more horcruxes and that worried him more than anything. At a stretch there were two -
the diary and the ring. Riddle still seemed relatively sane, but what really lay behind closed doors?

He ventured down to the entrance of the common room, casting a fond look at Onyx, who slithered
right over to him. Hadrian bent down, picking up his black companion and placing the snake onto
his shoulder where he liked to be.

“I met with Una today, ssshe wasss very happy to be having her Massster back.”

“Una? That isss her name?” He tried not to wince at the idea of such a feminine name for a
massive basilisk. From the Chamber of Secrets, during his Second Year, he still remembered the
fierce heat of the fang as it punctured his shoulder, the poison dripping into his body. And the
smell. The smell of decay and something...primal.

They entered the common room, which was empty as everyone was still at the feast.

“Yesss, ssshe isss ssso pretty. I told her that ssshe can meet you.”

“Onyx, I am not sssure I want that jussst yet.” He stroked the smooth scales of his companion. “I
may have a job for you.”

A black tongue flicked out. “Yesss, Massster?”

“I want you to ssspend time with the other Ssspeaker - Una’sss Massster. I want you to tell me
what he readsss, what he ssspeaks to Una about...anything.”

“Hadrian?”

Hadrian’s head snapped up, seeing Cassius standing in the doorway that led to the rooms. His
friend’s face was paler than usual and there were small smudges under his eyes. Those blue eyes
looked at him with a mix of curiosity and something else.

“Cassius? Are you feeling alright?” At the silence that followed, Hadrian shifted awkwardly.
“Abraxas said you were ill.”
“Were you just speaking to your snake?”

Hadrian shoved a hand through his unruly tresses. “Yes.”

“You are a Parselmouth? Like Tom?”

He pulled a face at the comparison. “I am a Parselmouth, yes.”

Cassius blinked before a shadow of a smile touched his lips. “Of course you are. Are they all up at
dinner still? It is very early.”

Hadrian nodded.

“Do you want to take a walk? I could do with the air.” Cassius was already moving towards the
door. “I was just about to take one.”

“Let me grab my cloak.” Hadrian darted into their common room, strangely glad to see everyone’s
belongings back at their bedsides. His eyes lingered on the floating, spiralling snake on Riddle’s
dresser. Onyx wanted to come with him, so he cast a warming spell on his cloak pocket before
putting it on. His snake slithered down, letting out a contented hiss.

Returning to Cassius, they left the common room and headed up to the main building. There were
drips and drabs of students filing out of the Main Hall. Cassius inclined his head to the doors that
led to outside.

“How was your holiday?” Avery asked, voice a little hoarse.

“Uneventful.” Hadrian fingered his wand in his pocket, the memory of his grandfather’s blue eyes
transforming with a milky hue flickering through his mind.

“Hogwarts is boring without anyone else. In First Year, my parents had an engagement in Europe
over Yule, and only some random Seventh Year Slytherin was left. She did not speak to me at all.”
Cassius gave a throaty chuckle. “It was a very lonely holiday.”

They continued down the pathway, before the blonde boy started to detour, heading in the
direction of the Herbology greenhouses. Their shoes crunched on the compacted snow - layers and
layers of snow after the last few days’ deluge. There was a frost already in the air, and their warm
breath came out in small puffs.

“What about your holiday?”

Cassius buried his hands in his robes. “It was...uneventful.”

“Were you sick most of it?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Cassius sighed at the harsh tone in his voice. “Sorry, I just…”

“It is fine.” Hadrian offered him a smile. “Besides, you are back here, at Hogwarts, surrounded by
friends. Also, you also owe me a few games on the quidditch training field. I hope you have been
practising.”

They approached the greenhouses, where the plant life was visible against the glass - a burst of
vivid green and a dash of red. There was nobody out here, and the silence was vast. It felt like time
itself was holding its breath.

“Actually, there was something else I was looking forward to more,” Cassius said quietly.
Hadrian gasped as a hand bunched into his shirt, cool glass suddenly pressing in through his robes
to the skin on his back. He shuddered at the strange sensation before his lips were seized in a fierce
kiss. It was nothing like their first one. The first one was full of trepidation and innocence.
This...was something different. Cassius deepened the kiss almost immediately, his other hand
sliding down to grip Hadrian’s hip.

Moaning at the onslaught of feeling, Hadrian allowed his tongue to battle against Cassius’ but a
quick nip to his bottom lip soon made him retreat to submission. That hand on his hip tightened,
before yanking their bodies together. Hadrian’s hands could only take the other boy’s robes,
anchoring him in place.

His nerves were on fire but something was not quite right. There was a desperation to Cassius’
actions that made his thought process return with a jolt. That emptiness he felt constantly in his
very soul made its return, causing him to withdraw from the kiss.

Hadrian pulled away a bit more, just as Cassius leaned forward to try and kiss him again. He gave
an apologetic smile at the hurt look the other Slytherin gave him. “Sorry Cassius...are you okay?”

Avery’s upper lip trembled before he spun around and turned his back on him. “Let’s just head
inside.”

“Cass-”

“Hadrian.”

He stood, dumbfounded as, in a flurry of robes, Cassius strode back to the castle - alone. Left
standing in the cold, lips aching from the heated kiss, Hadrian shook his head. This was why
relationships were just bad news. Having to predict other people’s emotions and thoughts was
exhausting. That was proven with Cho.

What had gotten Cassius, who was usually so placid, in that state?

After a few minutes of allowing his brain to settle, Hadrian returned to the castle, ready to just
speak to people again after weeks of hardly any human interaction.

***

“Hadrian.”

He stopped in the corridor, seeing Avery walking hastily towards him. Some blonde locks were
free over his forehead, giving him a youthful look. Those circles under his eyes, however, were
darker.

“Hadrian, I want to apologise for last night,” Cassius said quietly, looking around to check whether
they were still alone. “Can I make it up to you?”

Hadrian raised a dark eyebrow. “What about telling me what is up?”

Cassius gave his lop-sided smile, a finger coming up to scratch his jaw. “I just had a rough Yule
with the parents. I should not have let it affect us. I am sorry.”
Emerald eyes studied him before giving a slight shrug of one shoulder. “Then, it is all fine.” He
turned. “Shall we head to class?” He started to walk, hearing the other boy follow.

Slughorn beamed as the Slytherins and Ravenclaws filed into his classroom, returning to their self-
allocated seats. He even released a chuckle at some point - about what, was anyone’s guess - and
patted his sizeable waist.

“Welcome back, Sixth Years,” he began. “Today, we resume our brewing - with Amortentia as our
first Potion. Who can tell me what Amortentia is?” His small eyes fell onto Riddle. “Ah, yes,
Tom.”

Riddle was sat in the centre of all of the Slytherin boys. His back straightened. “ Amortentia ,
Professor, is the most powerful love potion in the world. Although, no potion can actually
construct love, rather the guise of it through infatuation or obsession. Its smell is different to each
person, containing the unique smells of what they find attractive or love the most.”

Slughorn clapped his hands together. “Perfect, Tom, as usual. Yes, yes...rightly said to be the most
dangerous potion in existence.”

Hadrian raised his hand.

“Mr Peverell?”

He shifted on his stool, giving a quick glance to Riddle. “Sir, say the potion was used on a person
and a child was conceived under the influence. Would that have some effect on the child itself?”
Hadrian felt the magic of Riddle rise in reaction to the question, dark and intense. He had to restrain
his own magic from trying to react.

“Hmm, what an interesting question, Hadrian. There is no documented evidence of any such
influence, but there have been many who do not even realise they have been given the potion,
especially if administered for their lifetime. So tracking and tracing such children would be
difficult. But what an interesting idea.” Slughorn smiled, his ruddy cheeks darkening with joy.
“Twenty points to Slytherin for both Tom and Hadrian’s thoughtful contributions.”

But Riddle’s hand rose once more.

“Yes, Tom?”

“Surely, if some people can throw off the Imperius curse, Professor, then some can throw off the
effects of Amortentia ?”

Slughorn chuckled. “Do not be too naive Tom. Whilst the Imperius is one of the most dangerous
curses, it is solely driven by the caster’s wishes, making the victim a puppet. With this potion, it
strips away the idea of consent where we are most vulnerable - our need to be loved. The reason
this cannot be just ‘thrown off’ is that we often underestimate the power of obsession. Unlike
substandard love potions, Amortentia is by far the most potent, because of the ability for the victim
to still feel normal, the only change being feelings for someone else.” He paused. “Now, if we
move onto the smelling-” Slughorn stopped again. “Hadrian?” His voice was slightly more
exasperated.

“Sorry Sir,” Hadrian began. “Do we learn how to cast the Unforgivables here at Hogwarts?”

A look of horror crossed over the Professor’s face. “W-whatever - no, of course not,” he
spluttered.
“Then why are a bunch of Sixth Years learning to brew a potion that could force someone into a
relationship against their will? Could that not lead to rape and abuse? If this is worse than the
Imperius, then I don’t understand why we have to brew it, if the school forbids the Unforgivables.”

Silence invaded the classroom.

Hadrian’s mind was whirring. Obviously, Dumbledore had spoken in detail about Merope Gaunt’s
use of love potion on Tom Riddle Senior, but he had never actually given thought on what that
actually meant. It was as if his mind had been a closed book in the future. Here, everything seemed
open for him to explore, without anyone else ‘guiding’ him, and Hadrian was surprisingly eager to
challenge. But that led to its own problems.

Riddle had been abandoned by his mother, who was distraught with the rejection of her drugged
lover, on some orphanage’s doorstep. A child not just born from a loveless relationship, not just a
product of Amortentia...but also a child of rape.

“I believe you raise interesting questions, Mr Peverell, that perhaps as a school we need to reflect
on,” Slughorn replied eventually. “However, my job is to prepare you for your NEWT
examinations and this is on the list of potions you could be asked to brew.”

Hadrian just nodded his head, but he was scribbling away next to the Half Blood Prince’s notations
about the danger of the potion and to chase up whether the potion had any lasting impact on
children born from the influence.

“Right, I am going to call you up one by one, and I would like you to make note of what you
smell.” Slughorn paced at the front of the classroom. “This will also be a sign for the future, if you
are unlucky enough to have such an...admirer. You will know what it smells like for you.”

Hadrian once more scribbled: But can the smell change over time?

Each student was called up in turn. Green eyes rose as Riddle was called over. The boy strode up to
the front, bending down very slightly to breathe in the fumes. His lips tightened before he rose and
swiftly marched back to his chair.

Next was Hadrian. He bent over the cauldron. Treacle tart...broomsticks...and something different,
perhaps something floral mixed with something dark...like rich spices…

Returning to his desk, he froze when he realised what that last smell was. It had been in the library.
Riddle had approached him with that stupid parchment.

There was no way he was attracted to Tom Riddle. No way. He stabbed his quill into his
parchment, releasing an agitated hiss.

The lesson went without a hitch. Hadrian focused on the instructions in the Prince’s journal.
Slughorn was more than happy with his finished product.

At the end of the lesson, the Professor asked Riddle and Hadrian to stay behind. Both of them had a
free period next; Slughorn had already checked. The large man sat behind his desk, popping small
nuggets of chocolate into his mouth.

“So, boys, Headmaster Dippet requires all Heads of Houses to have a conversation with all students
that turn of age in the Sixth Year. I know both of you are very clever and mature young men, who
have shown inquisitiveness not only in lessons but also in our career meetings.” He smiled at them
both. “You both do not require adult permission to attend Hogsmeade, although before now, Tom I
have acted as your guardian and Dippet yours, Hadrian.”
He had not known that. Hadrian, however, nodded as if he had.

“We require that although you are of legal age in the Wizarding World, to not drink alcohol during
term, so we can ensure a good example is set to younger years. Both of you can apply for
Apparition licenses whenever you are ready, but in a month’s time, the Ministry will resume
lessons for all Sixth years. Lastly, the trace has gone from your wands, so you will be able to
perform magic outside of Hogwarts.” He studied both of them. “Do you have any questions?”

There was silence.

“Oh, and Professor Dippet has specifically asked me to inform you both, as the only orphans in
Sixth Year, that if you so wish, Hogwarts will be open to you both this Summer.”

Hadrian felt his eyes widen and barely managed to stop his jaw from falling. That bastard . To
include Riddle staying over Summer also, without even telling him first? His fist tightened on the
top of his potion’s station.

“Thank you, Sir.” There was a delighted edge to Riddle’s voice that he had never heard before.

“Perfect, now both of you hurry along.” He popped another chocolate drop in his mouth.

Hadrian stood, gathering his books before striding from the room.

“Hadrian.”

He stopped, drawing in a breath before turning in the dimly, lit corridor to see Riddle walking over.
The other boy dripped with confidence, his books held lightly in his hand by his side, robes
swishing around his slim figure.

“Yes?” His magic gave an interested twitch but he reigned it in with as much energy as he could
muster.

Riddle smiled, his eyes gleaming. “I just wanted to invite you to our next gathering. We are making
preparations for Imbolc.” Onyx slithered out of the Slytherin’s pocket and up to Tom’s broad
shoulder.

Hadrian kept his face passive, although he was glad that Onyx was keeping a close eye on Una’s
‘Master’. “What is Imbolc?”

The smile grew. “It marks the true beginning of Spring - a ritual to help fertility. We thought it
might help Cassius.” He started to walk past Hadrian. “Think about it?” Onyx flicked his tongue
out.

A deep, spicy scent plundered Hadrian’s senses as Riddle walked off. Help Cassius? Hadrian stood
there for a long moment. He eventually shoved a hand through his hair and whisked off to get
some air.
 Chapter 16
Chapter Notes

So, I loved writing this chapter and I hope you all love reading it! It is...different.

Again, thank you so much for the comments and I am going to try and reply to the
next set. They really are spurring me on!

Upon the broken shelves, lay all sorts of trinkets: plastic soldiers in various states of mutilation,
arms legs or even heads missing; a few broken View-Master wheels that had stills from Star Trek if
one held it up to the swaying lightbulb; three mashed up Micro Machines, one being a lorry with
its cab half-bent in from when Dudley had taken a knife to it; and many random bits of Lego that
Harry had fashioned into creative statues.

Dust cascaded through the cracks as the staircase above shook, as if King Kong himself was
descending. Harry’s lips curved into a smile at the thought - Dudley’s body sprouting thick black
hair and climbing to the top of the Empire State Building. It wouldn’t be much of a change. Dudley
and his best friend Piers Polkiss liked to swing from the monkey bars in the playground before
‘accidentally’ landing on some poor, unsuspecting Year Three kids who often gathered there to
play Duck Duck Goose.

In his grubby fingers, Harry played with his favourite toy soldier. This one was mostly intact, but
had no face. Dudley had cut it off with Uncle Vernon’s razor blade. Afterwards, he had cried when
it did not repair itself and thrown it down the stairs.

Dirt was still caked under his fingernails from gardening all day, planting his Aunt’s new rose
bushes. Sometimes the thorns had pricked him, but for some reason there were no evidence of
cuts.

“Where is that little freak?”

Harry winced at the high-pitched, nasal voice that erupted from the kitchen. He sighed, placing his
figure back on the shelf next to where his head would lay at night. Often, he hoped that the faceless
soldier would protect him when he was sleeping.

“Boy!”

He opened the cupboard door and clambered out. “Yes, Aunt Petunia?”

His Aunt emerged from the kitchen, an apron tied around her waist as she peered down her needle-
point nose at the seven-year-old. “You little nitwit, have you forgotten the time?”

Harry worried his bottom lip through his teeth. “There isn’t a clock in my cupboard, Aunt
Petunia.”

A meaty hand collided with the side of his head. Harry released a gasp of pain, tears

bursting from his eyes as his skull throbbed. Vernon stood behind him, remote control in his other
hand. “How dare you answer back to your Aunt?” the large man scowled. “We put a roof over
your head, a bed to sleep in and this is how you repay us?”

“Sorry, Uncle Vernon.”

“Go and start our dinner...and don’t forget to wash that filth off your hands.”

Harry scurried into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding another swat to the head by his Aunt. He stood
on tiptoes and ran the water, spending as long as he could with the warm water and soup. His least
favourite job was the washing up, as he was not tall enough to properly reach, and his back always
started to hurt after the first two or three minutes.

Forty five minutes later, dinner was served to the Dursleys. However, because it was Dudders
favourite meal - lasagna - there was no portion left for him at the end. Harry’s stomach was
painfully tight from the lack of food, especially after all the gardening and cooking he had done
today.

He buttered some bread and managed to scrape some of the leftover cheese he had grated, onto his
plate. As every day, he then took himself into his cupboard where he began eating his meal with
the door open. Vernon demanded he leave it open, so he could see if Harry had stolen any food he
should not have.

“What is this?”

His head snapped up. There was someone standing in the doorway but Harry could not see his
head or shoulders - just some dark clothing. Harry stayed silent, bread halfway to his mouth.

The person bent down. It was an older boy with pale skin, brown eyes and curly hair over his
forehead.

“Boy! Clear up!”

At the booming voice of his Uncle, Harry scrambled up, looking at the dark-haired boy
desperately. “I need to clean the dishes.” His food was discarded on his plate on his mattress. “I
don’t know who you are, but if they find you, you will be in trouble. Please, move out of my way.”

A quizzical expression crossed the boy’s face before he stepped aside, allowing the small child to
race into the dining room. Vernon roared with laughter at his usual after-dinner show in the living
room.

Harry took all of the plates, which were scraped clean - just smeared with the red remnants of the
meal. He took it over to the kitchen, switching on the light and running the hot water.

The older boy stood there in the doorway, just watching, his side resting on the frame. “What are
you doing?”

Harry gave him an exasperated look. “If you aren’t going away, I must be seeing things.” He
pressed his fingers against the back of his head, wincing. “Uncle must have hit more freakishness
in me.” He pushed his fringe away from his forehead, rubbing his tingling scar.

“Hadrian?”

The seven-year-old frowned. “Harry.” He stopped the tap, looking at the bowl crowned with
bubbles. He began to lower the plates in first, saving the pans until later.

Meanwhile, the boy had moved and was inspecting the kitchen. “What is this?”
Harry sighed. “It’s a washing machine...yes, that’s cereal...and a sandwich maker.” He resumed
washing the plates, surprised that none of his family had said anything about his talking.

There was a long silence as Harry finished the plates and started to carry the saucepans over.

“What is the year?” came the quiet question.

“1987.”

“When were you born, Harry?”

He gave a disgruntled sound of pain as his lower back started to throb from the weight of the
saucepan and balancing on his tip-toes. “I am seven years old...so probably 1980.”

“When did you get that scar on your forehead? It looks painful.”

Harry shrugged his little shoulders. “When my parents probably died in the car crash, yeah I think
that’s what my Aunt said.”

“Were your parents Muggles?”

“Muggles?” Harry cried out as a pain shot through his scar. Seven. Years. Old. Something
not...right. Seventeen?

“What is this place, Harry?” The boy had stepped closer, his voice low and smooth.

“Can you just go away?” Harry scrubbed at the pot, his eyes heating up with tears as the bottom
of the saucepan wouldn’t budge with the caked on lasagna sauce.

“What is this place, Harry?” came the repeated question, more insistent this time.

“I live here,” Harry grumbled.

“Your Aunt and Uncle? They make you garden...cook dinner for them...clean up after them...feed
you bread and crumbs?” A hand touched the back of Harry’s head. “Is this the true Hadrian
Peverell?”

At the name, everything ground to a halt. Harry froze. Emerald eyes widened before his magic
exploded out of him. He screamed, throwing his shields up and forced himself out .

Hadrian came too with a scream. Sweat covered his body, the sheets wrapped around his legs as if
they were hands holding him down. His heart thundered; the beat a viscous drum in his ears. He
lurched out of his bed, so glad for the silencing charm on his bed.

He was going to throw up.

It was a race to throw open the curtains and stumble out of bed, trying not to wake anyone up.
Hadrian got to the bathroom, leaning against the wall as he dry-heaved into the toilet.

He felt him. The dark, magnetic magic filling every corner of the bathroom. “I tried to tell you
before...Riddle. Fuck. Off.” Hadrian rose, wiping his mouth with a trembling hand.

Tom Riddle even looked fucking elegant in his pyjamas, only his hair a little ruffled with sleep as
he stood there, just watching him.

Hadrian walked over to the tap, splashing his face and gargling water. Riddle’s silence was
unnerving him further.

“You forgot your wand.”

To his horror, his holly wand dangled between Riddle’s fingers. “Riddle,” he growled, eyes
flashing.

“Hadrian...or should that be Harry?” purred the silky voice. “I think it is time you finally tell me
what is happening. Though, by now, I have a pretty good guess.” He took a step closer.

Hadrian backed off, his nerves rattled and eyes wide open at the other boy’s words. “No.” He
shook his head. “No, that was just a dream.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” Another step.

Hadrian stood his ground, although everything was screaming at him not to. But he knew there was
nowhere to go behind him, and he needed to show strength despite not feeling any of it.

“Harry. Harry who ‘dreams’ of the future. A future where he is hidden away in a cupboard. A
freak .”

His fists clenched by his sides but he refused to look away from those cinnamon eyes, which
seemed to glow in the dark bathroom - lit only by a few candles hovering overhead.

“Where Muggles abuse him.” Riddle spat out the word. “A little boy who cooks, cleans and hides
away to eat his pieces of bread.”

Hadrian trembled - with anger, shame or fear he did not know. Maybe all three. His head felt like it
was splitting into two.

“Tell me the truth ,” Riddle hissed, only a couple of steps away now.

Hadrian’s lips curled up into a sneer. “Why should I Riddle? Have you told all of your friends who
you are?” He took a step forward, his sneer deepening. “Have you told them how you have
massacred your family? Have you told them how you have split your fucking soul?” He threw back
his head and released the laughter bubbling inside him, at the aghast expression on that handsome
face. “You want honesty, Voldemort? It goes both ways.” He snatched his wand from Riddle’s
hand, stomping back to the dormitory.

Throwing himself back on his bed, he cast the strongest protections he knew on the drawn curtains
and released a scream. His fingers dug into his aching skull.

What had he done?

***

Going through the motions of the day had been difficult. Hadrian had not managed to get back to
sleep after the incident with Riddle, his headache worsening and the sickness in his stomach
actually causing him to vomit.

It was in Herbology that he had thrown up outside after quickly excusing himself. Cassius had
taken him to the Hospital Wing, where Healer Roberts had taken him to a bed and given him some
pain relief. Despite that, his head still throbbed and his scar burned.

A thumb brushed over Hadrian’s knuckles.

He turned his head, taking in Cassius who had drawn up a chair to sit next to him. When Healer
Roberts had tried to shoo the blonde boy back to class, Cassius had persuaded the medic that he
would monitor Hadrian. It was luck that Hadrian had thrown up again just at that moment and
could not protest.

“How are you feeling?”

Hadrian took a glass of water with his other hand, sipping it before cradling it against his temple.
“Rough,” he answered, his voice hoarse.

He did not meet the other Slytherin’s eyes. It was the pain mixing with Riddle’s strange comments
about Imbolc that made him cautious. Cassius was not being honest with him, and well, that was
the theme at the moment. Hadrian pulled his hand free from his friend’s.

The Healer started to make his way over. “Hadrian, your temperature is high but there is nothing
that seems infected or should be causing you pain.”

Emerald eyes closed.

“I would like to keep you in to monitor you.”

Hadrian was silent, each pulse of his heart sending electrical shockwaves zapping through his
nerves. He felt a warm hand take the glass from his temple before a cold compress was applied to
his forehead, although it paused before it was properly applied.

“I also want to investigate your scar...it is red and inflamed. Highly unusual. Can I ask how the
pain relievers are working?

“Hurts to...talk and think.”

Healer Roberts hummed. There was a tinkling of glass before a vial was pressed against his lips
and a sweeter potion was eased into his mouth.

He swallowed, and then he heard the Healer walking away.

For minutes...hours, Hadrian dozed as the stronger pain relievers started to take its effect. His mind
moved through the scenes from last night...emotionless as the medicine dulled his senses.

“Cassius.”

“My Lord.”

“Leave us.”

“But-”

Hadrian’s eyes were too heavy to open, just moving his head to the direction of the voices.

“Are you questioning me, Avery?” came a hissed response. “You would not want your family to
hear of your...attachment to Hadrian, would you?”

There was the sound of a chair scraping on the floor before a hush of whispers that he could not
make out. All he felt was the softness of the pillow and the gentle throb in his head as time blurred
again. Hadrian gathered the sheets in his hands, burrowing deeper into its embrace.

Something brushed his forehead, and the pain started to dissipate underneath the medicine. He
arched up a little, a moan falling from his lips.

“This connects us.” The cool finger traced the lightning bolt. “Hadrian?”

Hadrian floated in and out of consciousness. The pain was all gone but the grasp of the medicine
prevented him from coming fully out of the haze he was under. He hummed, to show he could
hear.

“I can even feel how this stops the pain you are obviously in. Was it our shared dream?”

His teeth sunk into his lower lip, trying to fall back into sleep rather than listen to Riddle’s too
smooth and too silky voice.

“I want to talk...soon. Not yet, but soon.” Another brush against his scar, before Riddle’s presence
disappeared.

***

Hadrian rubbed his eyes as he made his way through the castle. It was quiet, with students mostly
back to their common rooms after dinner. Walking like this, caused him to forget that he had
travelled back in time.

For whatever reason, he had ended up on top of the West Tower. It was freezing and he was poorly
dressed, having left the Hospital Wing just in his robes he had entered in.

Healer Roberts had put him on a ban from strenuous magic. During the ‘further tests’ the man had
conducted, he had found that his magic was acting erratically with no reason the man could
pinpoint. There had been tests on his scar - and there was something - but again Healer Roberts
could not make it out, just that the man felt uncomfortable trying to study it.

He leant on the railings, looking over the side of the tower to the dark abyss below. His emotions
were all over the place. They had been since he had awoken today after lunch. There had been no
dreams, nothing, in the twenty-four hours he had slept for. Riddle had been there. The other boy
had eased his pain for some odd reason.

In the future, this would be the location Hermione and Harry would fly Buckbeak up here, with a
rescued Sirius in tow. Another farewell to his recently found Godfather, the same Godfather that
would fall to his cousin’s wand a few years later. However, it may not be the ‘new’ future now. In
fact, it was not the future now; Hadrian would make sure of it.

His fingers brushed over his scar, which did not tingle or hurt but he remembered the cool digits of
Riddle’s exploring the mark.

Up here, Sirius would make a comment that Harry was ‘definitely his father’s son’ but now, more
than ever, he was far from it. He had cast a bloody Imperio at his grandfather, had tried to hit
Bellatrix with a Crucio ...the only one he was missing from his collection was Avada Kadavra.
He’d stolen a Hallow and seemed to have joined Riddle’s group. It was damning. It was damning
that standing up here, reminiscing, he had no guilt whatsoever.
Hadrian turned his back on the tower after another long few minutes. It was cold and the first few
flakes of snow were falling from the sky.

He descended into the castle, heading straight down to the common room. As it was Wednesday, a
lot of the younger students had their elective subjects after dinner.

There was something going on in the common room, he could hear the laughter as he approached
the entrance.

It was some kind of celebration.

His friends were gathered in their usual corner, but the Sixth year girls had joined and a spattering
of the Seventh years also. Apart from that, the rest of the room was empty.

“Hadrian!” Adelia Greengrass jumped to her feet and rushed over. A grin was plastered over her
pretty face, blonde hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. “How are you feeling?”

He half smiled, half grimaced. “Recovering.”

“Hadrian, we saved you a space.”

Freezing at the voice, emerald eyes wandered to Riddle, who sat on a wing-backed leather chair.
That mouth of his was curved into a mocking smile as his hand gestured to the floor at his feet.

“I should probably head to bed,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“And miss the celebrations? You don’t want to be rude, do you?” asked Riddle, silkily.

Greengrass pulled him over to the group and Druella shifted so Hadrian could fit between her and
Adelia on the snug sofa. A glass of something was thrust into his hand. He did not like being this
close to people, with their thighs pressed against his, enclosing him in like his cupboard. Hadrian
ignored Riddle’s gaze.

“What are we celebrating?” he murmured, sniffing the glass to note the scent of alcohol.

“Cassius’ engagement, of course,” Adelia said, jolting her shoulder into his.

Hadrian’s head snapped up. Cassius saw in a small armchair, staring down at the floor as if he
wanted it to swallow him.

“Mother sent us some elf-made wine to celebrate, as the Pure-blood fashion,” Druella explained.

But Hadrian wasn’t listening. He schooled his face into a neutral expression, raising his glass.
“Congratulations, Avery,” he said, voice cutting across the distance between them.

“Yes, congratulations,” Riddle echoed. “We shall celebrate Imbolc with you and your betrothed in
mind. Maybe you have many healthy, and powerful children in your line.”

Cassius gave a weak smile, nodding his head to Riddle.

Everyone raised their glass - Hadrian included - and echoed Riddle’s statement. Hadrian tipped the
alcohol back, enjoying the kiss of fire that chased down his throat. It was after that his eyes
connected with Avery’s. There was hurt and sorrow in those blue eyes.

It was after a short while that Hadrian made his excuses and went into his dormitory. Although he
had gotten plenty of sleep, it had been medically induced and he still felt the need to sleep off the
remnants of the headache and sickness. He pulled off his robes, discarding them to be cleaned and
rubbed his scar.

“Hadrian?”

He did not turn, or reply.

A hand took his arm lightly, warm fingers pressing in through the fabric of his shirt. “I am so
sorry.”

“Sorry? You had days to tell me. What was this?” Hadrian spat out, pulling his arm free and
making distance between them.

Cassius sighed. “I have a responsibility to my family.”

“So what was I? Fun?”

“No!” came the exclamation. “I really like you, Hadrian. We could still be together.”

Hadrian released an empty laugh. “You are betrothed?”

Cassius ran a hand through his blonde hair. “It is quite common for men to have relationships with
other men outside the marriage.”

“Like some dirty secret?” Hadrian shook his head. “Look, Cassius, I don’t blame you for my
naivety here. I will still be your friend, but I won’t be a second choice.” He rubbed a hand over his
face. “I need some space, and sleep.” He shed his shirt and trousers, ignoring the other boy as he
got into bed. The image of Cassius - bottom lip stuck between his teeth and eyes downcast - was
seared into his mind as he spelled his curtains closed and buried himself in the duvet.
 Chapter 17
Chapter Notes

Having a bit of a stressful time, but thought I would upload this! My next update may
be a little more delayed.

And yes, Dumbledore is Half Blood in canon.Both of his parents were wizards, but his
mother Kendra Dumbledore was a Muggle-born, making him a Half-blood.

Gathered in the silvery folds of his Invisibility Cloak, Hadrian walked through the corridor on the
second floor. It was after breakfast and he had made a swift exit from his group of friends, Onyx
having informed him that Riddle was making his way down to see Una.

His heart beat against his rib cage as he entered the familiar bathroom. It was less wrecked than it
was in the future, but the resident ghost was present. Hadrian stopped in the middle, near the sinks
but watched Moaning Myrtle as she sat upon the top of one of the stalls. The girl sobbed,
shimmering tears falling onto the floor and disappearing.

It was different now. In this reality, Myrtle Warren had been dead for under a year. Her
schoolmates were still alive and attended the very school her ghost haunted. Hadrian knew little of
the girl, in reality.

He turned his back on her, hissing out ‘ Open ’ to the tap where the small serpent was engraved.
Onyx wriggled on his shoulder in excitement, hissing about seeing ‘beautiful’ Una again.

Myrtle screamed as the taps started to move. A large splashing noise told him that she had gone
down some toilet bend in fright.

Hadrian descended, ordering it to close after him. It was damp, the stone work shining as he
descended the many stairs into the depths of the Chamber. He daren’t light his wand, as not to
reward Riddle with the knowledge of his presence. When he was down into one of the corridors, he
found himself surprised by how clean it was. The stone underfoot was shiny - not with moisture,
but was polished in that way.

He followed the corridor down, which was light dimly by candles just above head height along
near the ceiling. It had a scent that he could not put his finger on, but that it smelt old. Not
decaying, old...but like pages of an old book.

“Almost there!” Onyx hissed.

Hadrian rolled his eyes. “Be quiet.” He strode forward and entered one of the main walkways into
the heart of the Chamber of Secrets. It was a vast platform, with pillars either side, embedded into
a body of water. Each pillar had a snake wrapped around it, mouths open and water cascading out
as a pleasant sound that would mask his footsteps.

There was a slight green hue to the stonework that he had never noticed before. Then again, the
last time he was down here, he was desperately trying to find Ginny before it was too late.

It was beautiful, there was no doubt about that.

As he walked into the main body of the Chamber, he marvelled at the huge and very hideous statue
of Salazar Slytherin. The man’s money-like face was massive, eyes staring off into the distance as
if he knew that his teachings would be gospel to those in the future. And just what were those?
Pureblood supremacy? Death to all Muggleborns?

There was no sign of ‘Una’ or Riddle.

He took in the view of the cavernous chamber made from one of the Founders. Had Riddle cleaned
it? It looked less dusty and decrepit than it did in the future. Or was it also magically aware, like
the Room of Requirement, and aware its Heir was in the castle? The green glow was here also,
emanating from the floor - perhaps under the flooring itself. He found himself peering down at it,
trying to see if there was some kind of light buried under there...but nothing. Just some odd
grooves.

One of his hands came to stroke Onyx who complained at the jostling. Hadrian moved over to the
openings either side of Salazar Slytherin’s feet - two tunnels. He took the left hand side
instinctually.

The tunnel was curved, with parselscript adorning the top in emerald tiling. It was some kind of
large protective spell. Hadrian found himself pausing more than once, wondering how long
Slytherin had spent creating these spells in a language only a fair few would ever know. Could
Hadrian cast any normal spell in Parseltongue? What effect would it have?

There was a strange gap up ahead in the tunnel that was noted by two burning sconces. He had
never seen it before, but in the past he had been running away from the big snake who wanted to
kill him. It was a winding, stone staircase.

Ascending, he noted the presence of Riddle before he saw him. He shuddered at the other boy’s
magic, restraining his own from reaching out.

However, when he emerged, it was not Riddle who drew his attention. It was the extensive library
that greeted him. A flicker of excitement started to burn in his gut before he caught himself. Was
he getting excited about a library ? Hermione would be insanely proud. Riddle sat at a circular,
dark oak table that filled a good portion of the lower floor. His head was bowed, quill scribbling
away on some parchment as his right finger skimmed through the thin book open in front of him.

Hadrian poured over the titles, glad he had silenced his feet as he moved up and down small stone
staircases. It was in a semi-circle formation, bookcases and piles of books everywhere. When he
turned around to look down at Riddle, his breath caught at the sight. There was a large window
looking down into the Chamber where Salazar Slytherin’s statue stood, and he saw the intricately
carved ritual circle in the centre of the vast room. As it was so large, no wonder why he had not
spotted it whilst walking through. They would just look like random grooves.

“Are you just going to stand there, Harry ?” Riddle said, sounding a bit exasperated.

Hadrian jumped at the voice, eliciting an irritated sound from Onyx who slithered down his body
and out of the cloak. Sighing, he pulled it off, revealing himself to the Slytherin who was looking
up at him. “How did you know?”

He frowned at the idea he had been identified, and for the first time made him doubt that the cloak
was a powerful Hallow.

Riddle arched a brow, placing down his quill. “Your magic was quite the giveaway.” He paused.
“You did not have that Invisibility Cloak when you first arrived here at Hogwarts.”
Hadrian started. “You went through my belongings?”

The other boy just shrugged.

“Why does it even surprise me?”

Riddle closed the book he had been reading. “The most interesting item was your Advanced
Potion-Making book. Fourth Edition. The First Edition was only released two years ago.
Interesting sub-notes and alterations. And a self-given, egotistical name: the Half Blood Prince .”

Hadrian released a soft snort. “Says the guy who rearranges his name into ‘I am Lord Voldemort’.”
He gathered his cloak up in his hands and started to walk down to where Riddle sat.

There was a slight twitch to the side of Riddle’s mouth. “Have a seat. Do you prefer Harry or
Hadrian?”

He stared at the Slytherin in suspicion before drawing a chair opposite. The table was big enough
that it left a very sizeable distance between them. “Hadrian.”

“I have had a few days to really...think.” Those cinnamon eyes never looked once away from him.
“You clearly know a lot about me, and about my future actions.” A pale finger tapped on the
polished surface of the table. “It places me at a distinct disadvantage.”

Hadrian leant back in his chair, draping his cloak over the arm of the chair he sat on. “I want an
Unbreakable Vow.” He enjoyed the surprise that flared in the other boy’s face. Riddle had thought
it would be another game, Hadrian leaving breadcrumbs for him to follow - taunting him with the
knowledge he had.

“No.”

It was Hadrian’s turn to feel the surprise etched in his face. “You don’t want to know?”

Riddle smiled, too many teeth. “Oh yes, I will know, but I want to know everything. I want to
know you are telling the truth. There is no way I am going to make a vow that’s consequence is to
strip us of our magic. It would be a waste...for the both of us.” He paused. “So, here is where we
are at currently. You have information about me - highly important information. What is the deal
you are proposing?”

Hadrian raised his chin. “I want you not to make any more horcruxes. I want you to back off all of
your stupid Pureblood ideology, which is rich coming from a Half-blood like yourself.”

Tom spread his hand out on the table. “And that is not a deal I am willing to make. I am not
swearing under oath to not create any further horcruxes when I have no reason to stop. Also, I do
not think you quite get the ideology I am promoting. Once more, Hadrian, I am not making any
deal to stop when I have no reason to. All these ‘reasons’ to stop...are your secrets you do not wish
to give.”

Hadrian shook his head. “I am not telling you a single thing until I have securities.”

“Then,” hands spread out, “we find ourselves here.”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Which is?”

“I have been searching Salazar Slytherin’s library to find a solution to our problem. You are to
help.”
Hadrian wanted to groan. More books? More researching? He instead let his upper lip curl. “You
want to bore me into speaking to you?”

“I can just rip your mind out here and now, leave your carcass for my serpent?”

“Why don’t you?”

Riddle stared at him for a long moment. “Again, it would be a waste. You could be an
interesting...assistant.”

Hadrian shook his head once more. “You wish.”

Those eyes gleamed. “I propose we find something that will put us on more...equal ground.”

“An Unbreakable Vow is fine, and we can come up with reasonable parameters.” Hadrian released
a heavy sigh.

“What if I promise something, and after you reveal your secrets...you doom me to my death or
maybe worse? That will not do, Hadrian .” He pulled a book from a small pile, and pushed it
across the table so it landed near the raven-haired boy. “So, we do this. Or we make our own.”

Hadrian clenched his jaw. Here he was, in the Chamber of Secrets, and what was supposed to be a
trip to see what nefarious things Riddle was up to, ended up being a blood research fest with his
arch nemesis. But it was the oddness of his time so far in the past that had drawn him here. Here,
Riddle seemed human, despite his two horcruxes and the ridiculous magical power he could
harness. Hadrian would try his best to sway Riddle away from his goal…

Three hours later, Hadrian was struggling to keep his eyes open. He pushed the book away and
rubbed his aching eyes. The parselscript was easy enough to read as it looked like English, but it
was the dense ‘Old English’, the syntax of the sentences making them difficult at times to decipher.
Not to say that it was not interesting. There were all sorts of Dark rituals linking to blood, most of
them about how to curse someone but some were on the subject of vows. However, the
consequences in blood rituals appeared to be worse than having your magic just stripped away
leaving you a squib.

“How do you sit there for so long reading this old stuff?” Hadrian groaned, seeing the other boy
just flicking through and making notes.

“Stamina.”

He rolled his eyes. “Have you found anything?”

Riddle’s mouth pulled taut. He carefully placed down his quill and looked at Hadrian. “Not yet.
Have you?”

“I found out that blood rituals are awful, as well as blood bonds.”

“They can have their uses.”

Hadrian grimaced. “We are not draining corpses so we can have a conversation about the future.”

“What a shame.”

His grimace deepened. “Why are the Dark Arts so obssessed with blood?”

There was a tug to the side of Riddle’s mouth. “Pleasure and pain are best when intertwined. Do
you remember the thrill after casting your slicing spell on that boy ,and seeing the blood just gush
out?”

Hadrian glared. “I didn’t feel any thrill. I was scared he was dying.”

“Liar.”

“Pleasure and pain are two very different things.”

There was a sudden gleam to Riddle’s eyes that made Hadrian shift uncomfortable. “Maybe that is
something we should test.”

Hadrian’s eyes rolled again. “Yes, because I am just going to let you slice me open, so you can feel
good about yourself.”

A sinister smile spread across the Heir of Slytherin’s full mouth. “Oh, you are too innocent .”

His cheeks flared at the hissed word, shooting a glare at Riddle. “I need a break.” He stood up,
raising his arms and stretching his aching back from leaning over dusty books.

To his surprise, Riddle also rose from his chair. “Let me take you to Una. Onyx has been telling
her all about you.”

Hadrian glanced at his cloak, not wanting to just leave it here after all the effort he went to secure
it.

Riddle sighed. “Just leave it there. What do I want with an Invisibility Cloak?” He started to lead
the way back down the staircase, out of the library.

Hadrian followed, leaving it. As long as Riddle just thought it was another Invisibility Cloak, it
was fine. He descended the stairs into the tunnel and they both walked in silence back down to the
main chamber. This time, he allowed his eyes to rove the floor, seeing the etchings of the ritual
circle there.

“Una, come.”

There was a rumbling and a minute passed before the basilisk appeared out of the other, right-
hand-side tunnel. Hadrian swallowed, seeing the large beast looking almost exactly like it did in
the future. Its huge head had its eyelids shut, protecting both boys from its yellow, deathly stare.
Black scales shone with an unearthly green glow from the chamber’s odd lighting. Its body was
thick, and so huge that it towered just a little over Riddle’s height.

“Sssee Massster, isss Una not beautiful?” Onyx hissed as he wriggled out of the tunnel, a little out
of breath.

Hadrian felt amusement zip through him at the massive size difference. Onyx looked like a mere
worm compared to his ‘beautiful’ counterpart.

“Una, my Massster isss here.”

That mouth opened; two vicious fangs stark white were glistening. Hadrian’s hand came up to rub
his shoulder, not realising that cinnamon eyes followed the action thoughtfully.

“Sssmellsss fresssh,” said the basilisk.

Riddle crossed his arms over his chest. “Hadrian is a Ssspeaker, Una.”
What did one say to a basilisk that would try and kill you in the future? “Hello, Una .” He inwardly
cringed at the greeting.

That sizeable nose, with two slits coming up to rest underneath its sealed eyelids came down to
Hadrian. Her tongue flitted out - meaty and pink - coming a centimeter within touching him.

“A Ssspeaker.” It paused. “You do not smell like kin.”

“I am the only one in my family to Speak.”

“How lucky.” Una twisted its head towards its Master. “How lucky we are to have another
Ssspeaker.”

“Yes. Hadrian will be here often, helping with sssome resssearch.”

Hadrian’s eyebrows rose. Was Riddle giving the basilisk permission for Hadrian to enter at any
time? He watched with some amusement as Onyx just stared up at Una. Later, he would have to
have words with his companion about size and compatibility.

“She is a magnificent beast. Powerful and very deadly, just like Salazar Slytherin designed.”

Emerald eyes turned to Riddle. “Is she the original basilisk?”

“Yes, Slytherin hatched her and ensured her survival here, in the depths of the school.”

“For what reason?”

The other boy’s gaze met his. “He put her here to kill the Mudbloods.”

Hadrian’s eyebrows snapped down. “That is an awful word to use.”

“You sympathise with Muggles even when they abused you?” He was fiddling with something in
his pocket. “Regardless of you, look what Muggles do. They are destructive, and you must know
what they did to our kind the last time they found out about us.”

“They are not all bad,” Hadrian said. “And Muggleborn cannot help where they have come from.”

Riddle nodded his head back to the library and began walking. “They come into the Wizarding
World, ignorant of our ways. They weaken our blood, and the idea of relations with a Muggle is
sickening.”

Hadrian had followed, and they climbed the stairs in the tunnel. “You cannot honestly believe that,
Riddle. You cannot really think that they weaken our blood.” They emerged into the library, where
both of them distanced themselves across the table again. “Some of our strongest are Half-Blood,
and one of my strongest friends was Muggleborn. Meanwhile, Purebloods are inbreeding and
getting weaker.” At Riddle’s silence, he continued. “You know that you are strong, and me. Both
of us are Half Bloods. As much as you hate Dumbledore, you must know his strength, and he is a
Half Blood. We need diversity and new blood.”

“Pureblood families would not allow it.”

“And your followers are Purebloods, but look who commands them - a Half Blood.” Hadrian
gripped the back of his wooden chair that he stood behind, intently watching a myriad of emotions
cross over the Slytherin’s face.

“Please do not tell me you are on the side of bringing down the Statue of Secrecy?” Riddle
drawled.

Hadrian swallowed heavily. “I am still weighing everything up.”

There was a thick silence between them. Riddle broke it by scraping his chair back and sitting
down. “You bring some interesting points forward.” He tapped his finger on the table. “We have
an hour before lunch to see if there is anything else in these few books I have found.”

Hadrian sat down, watching in silence as Riddle drew his book closer and started to review his
notes. The curl hung over his pale forehead, and dark eyelashes fluttered over his high cheekbones.
Those long fingers peeled each crisp page, dusting over the Parselscript as if caressing the letters.

He blinked, his stomach lurching when he realised that he had been staring at Riddle - young Lord
Voldemort. Hadrian hastily pulled his book closer and tried to lose himself in the yellowed pages.
 Chapter 18
Chapter Notes

Got this one out a bit quicker, but I hope you really like it and the direction it starts to
take!

Your comments really helped me push through life to make this happen.

Clutching the parchment in his hand, he wandered down from the Headmaster’s Office. Hadrian
had expected Dippet there, as he had been asked to attend after dinner, but apparently there had
been an incident between two pupils that needed his attention - as it said on the short letter. The
only other thing scrawled on there was that he had an appointment with the Unspeakable, with
Dippet as well, Tuesday morning. He had to meet Dippet in his Office at 10:00.

Something in his stomach twisted at the idea of meeting Professor Saul Croaker. An Unspeakable
was called Unspeakable for a reason. He had an issue with the idea that a man who was sworn to
secrecy, wanted to actually meet Hadrian. How much had Dippet told the man or was able to tell
him under the Unbreakable Vow.

Hadrian pocketed the parchment and strode down the stairs. After a long day yesterday, in Riddle’s
presence, dealing with researching he was exhausted. Abraxas made it his mission today (Sunday)
to go through the logistics of the Wizengamot with Hadrian. It had been a really heavy weekend.
Never had he thought that months into his time in the past, he would be spending the day with
Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets without the aim to kill him or he would be taking politics lessons
with Draco Malfoy’s grandfather. It was a strange world.

He walked down the bottom floor corridor, which was pretty quiet save a couple of Second Years
walking back to the Hufflepuff Common Room with books in their hands.

Something twisted in his scar as he turned down an empty corridor which had a few disused
classrooms. This route was one Ron and he liked to take when they were late for Potions in the
dungeons, as there was a secret Portrait that would lead down. It was something they had
discovered right before the incident that sent him back in time.

Hadrian rubbed his forehead as a zap of something passed through him. It was not pain, but a tingle
that ignited his nerve endings. He grimaced. God knows what Riddle was up to, to cause that
reaction.

He stopped when another zap came, much stronger - only with a sound in the distance of a chair or
desk. Hadrian faltered at the odd sensation that made his stomach tighten. He passed the Portrait of
six mermaids/mermen who waved at him as they basked in the rain of a storm on a rock.

There was a muffled sound.

Was someone in danger?

Hadrian located the classroom through another whimper. The door was closed, but no magic
locking it. He grasped the handle, turning it quietly as not to notify the attacker. Hadrian’s other
hand went for his wand, grasping in the handle. He pushed his head and shoulder in, wishing he
had not locked his Cloak - more securely this time - in his trunk.

And he froze.

Another moan - this time louder. A Ravenclaw Seventh Year boy was on his knees, a pale hand
gripping his black hair.

Hadrian’s cheeks exploded with heat as he heard the lewd noises. And the boy standing up - he
knew. Riddle had his eyes shut, head slightly tipped back so the moonlight trickled over his
handsome face. With the sudden pulse in his scar, Hadrian gasped as his stomach tightened, heat
gathering there also.

He slammed the door and took off down the corridor. Hadrian hastily said the password to the
Portrait and hurried inside the tight corridor. He rushed down the small staircase, his heart
pounding. It was at the curve of the staircase, as it took an abrupt right turn into the dungeons, that
he stopped. He leaned the back of his head on the cold stone wall, trying to get his breathing and
the embarrassed heat from his body under control.

Riddle and a Ravenclaw boy?

Hadrian swallowed. He had never seen anything like that at Hogwarts. His experience of anything
sexual had been that heated kiss between Cassius and him. Before that, a few kisses here and there.
He hadn’t really thought about people sneaking into classrooms and doing things.

His fingers skimmed his scar, which had calmed. Riddle’s face had looked controlled, the only
signs he had been enjoying himself was the tilt back of his head and the tight grip on that dark hair.
Hadrian’s eyes grew wide as the image stuck into his head. Who was the other boy? There were a
few dark-haired male Ravenclaws in Seventh year. Why had Hadrian not looked properly? He had
been too focused on Riddle.

“Fuck,” Hadrian whispered, pulling on the strands of his hair that fell across his forehead. He took
a deep breath in and hurried back to the common room, to go and hide under the covers.

***

Dippet’s shoes made a slight click on the shiny surface of the floor as they strode through the
Ministry. Hadrian was in his Hogwarts robes, having just come from Dumbledore’s lesson. The
man seemed very irritated that he was to miss the lesson, but it seemed Dippet had already told his
Deputy.

His eyes ventured to the people all around them. They were dressed in more sombre robes he was
used to, and there were strange fashionable quirks like pocket-watches and some even wore hats. In
some ways, the wizarding world never changed. It was just cuts of robes. That was the problem
with it all though. Everything was just so stuffy. So rigid.

He tried to concentrate on everything going on around him: owls, paper, robes swishing, people
striding with clear missions… But his mind kept returning to that classroom, with Riddle’s face
tilted back. He had spent all night in his bed trying to convince himself that he was not affected. It
was bloody Tom Riddle, not Cassius. Cassius was a safe option to go with - a relative unknown - or
he was, until Hadrian had avoided him at all costs. Just because he said he would be friends, did
not mean he was ready to proceed just yet with that. That did not mean it was okay to think about
Riddle as attractive.

But his long, pale fingers gripping that inky dark hair -

“Hadrian?”

Mortified, he jolted out of his thoughts and turned his head to the Headmaster. “Yes, Sir?”

They were approaching a lift. “Have you considered your questions to Unspeakable Croaker?”

“Yes.”

Dippet raised an eyebrow. “Do not underestimate him, Hadrian. I need you to have learnt from our
exchanges. He is a highly intelligent man.”

He just gave a nod as they entered the busy lift. It suddenly lurched to the left and then plummeted
down. After a few twists and turns, the door flew open and they walked out. There was an odd
sound of ticking - almost like the sound of clocks.

“How did you convince him to see us?”

“My initial questions piqued his interest - about time travel outside of a time turner. When I asked
to meet him, you will have to realise he will have joined the two.”

He grimaced as they strode down a few dark corridors until they came to a door that had a golden
plaque to the side, which read: ‘Office of Unspeakable S. Croaker ’. Dippet got out his wand and
tapped the tip three times to the handle.

There was silence as he withdrew his wand. Then, the door swung open. Dippet gestured for
Hadrian to enter first.

He walked into the sizeable office. A man with white hair sat at a curved desk, white hair tied back
with a golden ribbon. There were all kinds of strange instruments in the room, but he drew his
attention away from them as he wanted to focus on the task at hand. This was his last chance for
any hope of returning back to the future - whatever that now was.

“Armando Dippet, it has been a while.” The man gave a large-mouthed grin. “And this must be the
young man you wish for me to meet.” He gestured to the two chairs already spaced out across from
his desk.

Hadrian took one of them, glad it wasn’t another uncomfortable wooden chair. He sunk into the
pillowed folds, but tried to force himself to concentrate.

“Thank you for seeing us, Saul,” Dippet replied amicably, taking the other chair. “This is Hadrian
Peverell.”

“So, your initial letter intrigued me, Armando.” The man sat forward, elbows on his desk. “You
asked if there were any other documented time travellers, other than any accidental ones with time
turners. You asked what would happen to the future and the consequences. When I offer to meet
you, you insist on this young man accompanying you.”

Hadrian looked between the men, shifting and realised this was not a very good idea at all. Dippet
had gotten this all wrong. Of all the ‘teaching’ he had given Hadrian, he had not even taken his
own advice.
“I thought the Peverell’s were dead.”

“They are, apart from me,” Hadrian answered smoothly. “Grindelwald was after my mother, who
was researching time travel - going through Europe. I feel she may have made a breakthrough,
something that could help us end him.”

That smile stayed on the man’s lips, eyes burning into Hadrian’s. There was a slight tug on his
mind and the raven-haired-boy shoved up his mental shields.

“My research into Time magic is forbidden to discuss with anyone outside of my department. The
only thing I can give you are my papers, which are already published in the public domain.”

“Fine, well Sir, we should be on our way.” Hadrian stood up, and began to walk to the door.

“Hadrian.” Dippet’s voice was edging on a warning.

Unspeakable Croaker laughed. “I could offer to help...but I have conditions.”

“And they are?”

Hadrian glared at the Headmaster’s reply.

“I want to know everything. The truth. None of this rubbish about your mother.”

He frowned. If he wasn’t willing to give Riddle details on the future without protections, he was
not going to allow this stranger. “No.”

Croaker turned his eyes back to the Headmaster. “You are abnormally quiet, Armando. I sense a
Vow. What could be so important to warrant you taking a Vow for a new student?” He leant back
in his chair. “It all makes so much sense.”

Hadrian rubbed his eyes before fully turning to face the two men.

“Of course, if anyone were from the future, then it would have to be reported to the Minister
himself. Such information at your fingertips - Quidditch results, people’s deaths...births…”

“Dippet - why did you bring me here?” Hadrian hissed.

“Saul, you were once very reasonable.” Dippet frowned.

The Unspeakable grinned. “That was before I have been so restricted in my work, especially after
Mintumble’s...accidental excursion. The Ministry has limited us to studying so little. And
then...you contacted me.”

It was Dippet’s turn to stand. “I have to apologise, Hadrian.” He started towards the door.

“I was serious about informing the Ministry.” Saul clasped his hands together. “But I understand
this can all be a shock. I will give you until Saturday midnight to make your decision, Mr Pevrell.”

“And what exactly is this decision?”

“Let me spell it out for you, dear boy. Either, you agree for me to run tests on you and potentially
help you make sense of what will happen due to your unfortunate travel...or I inform the Ministry
and you are forced to become my test subject. In fact, they might just keep you here.”

Hadrian sneered at the man before ripping the door open and storming out. He was aware of
Dippet marching after him but he flew into the lift, the older man just making it on time. They
were not alone, and both of them simmered until they reached the Foyer. Both were utterly silent as
they made their way to a Floo exit and went straight to Dippet’s Office.

Immediately, he rounded on the Headmaster. “How dare you not check him before we meet him?
He was awful .”

Dippet pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was my mistake, Hadrian. I am very sorry.”

“Sorry?” He paused. “Sorry? I have the decision between being a guinea pig voluntarily or being a
guinea pig against my will? Oh Hadrian, you will be fine - just learn from what I have taught you.
You acted like a bloody Gryffindor with my life!”

“It is all right. I will meet with Croaker tomorrow and sort this.”

Hadrian shook his head. “How? How can you do that with the Vow? How can I even trust you
enough to even release you from it? You are a Headteacher. You have no power over the
Ministry.”

Dippet was silent, his head bowed slightly. He could not meet those Avada Kedavra eyes.

“There is no reason for me to stay here, any longer.”

That made the older man’s head snap back up. “Yes there is, Hadrian. You know the dark future
ahead. You know what Tom Riddle will become if he is not prevented.” He took a step forward,
staring down the furious teenager. “I have seen you embed yourself into their friendship group.”

“Oh yeah?” Hadrian bit out. “Well how am I going to continue this noble work from a Ministry
prison cell?”

“We will find a way. Leave it with me, Hadrian.”

Hadrian managed to dislodge the disgusted noise from his throat before swiftly exiting the
Headmaster’s Office. He could smell lunch wafting up through the corridors and marched all the
way down there. His stomach twisted and his blood boiled through his veins like Fiendfyre .

The Main Hall was alive with the sound of cutlery and chatting.

Hadrian stormed through the doors and stalked over to the Slytherin table. He met cinnamon eyes,
ignoring all the other boys in their group. “I need to speak to you.”

Riddle gestured to the space opposite him.

“No.” Hadrian’s hands clenched into fists by his sides. “In private.”

A dark eyebrow rose. “Hadrian, I am eating lunch.”

He was very aware of most people’s eyes on him in Slytherin. “I need a favour.”

Riddle’s mouth pulled at the side. “Well, Hadrian, how can I say no?” He got to his feet in a
graceful motion, placing his cutlery down. “Come along.”

Hadrian refused to trail along behind the other boy, so he kept up the pace to walk alongside
Riddle out of the Hall. They both strode down the corridor and down into the dungeons, where
they chose the classroom that had been used for the duel between Lestrange and him.
Getting out his wand, Riddle cast a series of spells on the door.

Hadrian pulled a hand through his hair, stomping away from Riddle to get some distance between
them.
“Does this have something to do with you leaving Dumbledore’s lesson, first Period?”

“Dippet took me to Unspeakable Croaker at the Ministry, but the man was unhinged. The man’s
research has been stopped after some woman transported herself back in time and caused people to
be ‘unborn’,” Hadrian hurried out. “But fucking Dippet-”

“Hadrian.”

His large green eyes went to Riddle, whose face was neutral but his attention was solely on
Hadrian.

“What do you want from me?”

He drew in a shaky breath. “I want you to help me.”

“How?”

Hadrian glanced away at the slip into Parseltongue. “I need to get rid of Croaker, or obliviate him
or something.”

A slow smile crept over that full mouth. “Tell me.”

“I have Dippet under an Unbreakable Vow, to protect me and the future. Before that, he contacted
Croaker at the Department of Mysteries to ask him a few questions about the impact of time travel
on the timeline and ways of travelling without a time turner. Today, Dippet takes me to meet the
man and he is disgusting .” Hadrian clenched his jaw, remembering the man’s slightly wrinkled
face and that inane grin. “Dippet is fucking stupid by thinking he knew the man. He knew. He knew
I was from the future by connecting the dots, and now he is threatening to go to the Ministry to
lock me up as an experiment, or I come willingly by Saturday.”

Riddle was quiet as he leaned back against a discarded desk that was pushed against the wall. His
arms crossed over his broad chest. “Why my help?”

“This is a Ministry Official, Riddle. You killed your family.”

Dark eyebrows rose. “You want him killed?” The smile grew. “Oh, Hadrian , I did underestimate
you.”

“Not kill - just…” he trailed off, flailing his hand in the air.

“I know. So, a favour. This is quite a big one. Asking to save your life from the Ministry.”

Hadrian swallowed heavily. He chewed his bottom lip as a dark chasm started to open up inside his
stomach. It felt like he was making a deal with the devil. “I will tell you.” He paused to try and
control the waver in his voice. “The future. What I know it to be.” There was no way he was going
to end up in Croaker’s grip. That insane smile and look told him exactly how he would be treated.
His life would be void. He knew too much; as Croaker said, he knew Quidditch scores and all
kinds of information he could profit from. “But not until it is over, and we have dealt with him.”

Riddle pushed himself off the table, crossing the space between them. He struck out a hand. “I
want a Vow.”
Hadrian winced. “I thought we did not do Vows?”

“The Vow is for you - not Unbreakable - just us promising the exchange.” He watched as Hadrian
took his offered hand. When their hands joined, Riddle pulled Hadrian so that he stumbled closer. “
But if you break it, I will break you,” he hissed.

Hadrian glared up at the other Slytherin boy. “I swear.”

But the hand still held. “I want to see it - so I know it is real.”

Emerald eyes flashed. “Fine.” The fear of a lifetime spent as the Ministry’s prisoner made his heart
beat faster, and the grip of the warm hand in his more comforting.

“Now, Hadrian, we are going to go to Potions. We are to talk tomorrow, after I have formulated a
plan.”

With those brown eyes so close, Hadrian could make out flecks of crimson - tiny ones. And his
mind flitted to Tom’s face tilting back, bathed in moonlight… Hadrian pulled his hand free, cheeks
pinking as he stepped away. His scar tingled and his magic buzzed.

“Fine.”
 Chapter 19
Chapter Notes

Took a while longer as I accidentally deleted two hours worth of work! But I hope this
is worth the wait.

Rubbing his eyes, he winced at the ache behind them. Sleep had been difficult to grasp but had he
really expected anything else?

Hadrian watched as Riddle murmured to Lestrange, Mulciber, Nott, Avery and Malfoy by his
bedside. Every so often, the boys would look up at Hadrian in speculation. But Hadrian did not
need to know what was said. He already knew Riddle’s intention. Their cover story. One they had
gone through time and time again over the remains of the week. One Riddle made him repeat over
and over again. No studying in the library, nothing public. Instead, they would be working and
duelling in the disused classrooms - even missing lunch. They had been too busy debating some
Arithmancy.

An alibi.

Grimacing, Hadrian looked away from the group. He tried to glean some comfort from his beloved
Invisibility Cloak in his lap, but that just reminded him of how he had achieved it in this existence -
by Imperioing his grandfather. Since then, he had made a deal with the devil himself.

Riddle was formulaic, logical and brutal in his methodology. The opposite to Hadrian’s rash streak
that caused him to charge head first into danger. He had hoped he had started to shed that
tendency, but here he was, waiting to go to Hogsmeade with the other boy and put their sick plan
into action.

“Hadrian?”

Emerald eyes rose, to see Riddle standing by the door. The rest of their friends watched, thinly
veiled curiosity in their faces. They knew nothing except that he and Riddle would be away from
the castle for the morning and into the afternoon. Riddle wouldn’t even give them a reason. They
all knew something was up, because both of them had been disappearing each night of the week to
the Chamber of Secrets.

He stood up, wrapping the cloak tightly in a small package before putting it into his robe pocket.
Hadrian followed Riddle out of the dormitory, common room and then into the corridor, where
they started to walk side by side.

“Did you get it?”

“You know I did,” Hadrian answered tightly, fingertips brushing the vial in his pocket. His nerves
were already frayed, but the proximity to Riddle’s magic tested them even further. Throughout the
week, he had to steel himself against the dark and seductive magic of the Heir of Slytherin. All
Hadrian’s magic wanted to do was dance with it. No wonder why the man had attracted so many
followers along the way; his magic was like a heady drug.
They ascended the stairs in silence before taking the main stairs up to the statue of the One-Eyed-
Witch, that he had to disclose to Riddle as a secret entrance to Hogsmeade. Hadrian supplied the
password and they entered the passage. When the statue scraped back to its original state, it left
both of them in the silence of the hallway.

He let Riddle lead the way through the narrow strip.

“An hour?”

“Yes.” An hour to get to Hogsmeade. Hadrian’s stomach twisted. He had the letter sent to Croaker
burnt into his mind.

Dear Unspeakable Croaker,

I have thought a lot about our brief conversation, Tuesday morning, and would like to discuss with
you a way forward that will suit us both. This time, I will decline the presence of my Headmaster,
who feels the need to protect me as a student.

Therefore, I would like to meet you in Hogsmeade at eleven o’clock promptly, outside the Hog’s
Head, where I would like to engage in a conversation about the necessary steps forward.

Hadrian Peverell

It had not been written by him. Physically, yes. But Riddle had stood over him, pacing just behind
as he narrated the short and sweet letter to Croaker. Riddle insisted on many revisions, until
Hadrian’s knuckles had ached.

Doubt had plagued him since sending it by owl, borrowed from Abraxas. But fear had won overall.
For years, he had spent his existence ruled by the need for him - a teenager - to kill a Dark Lord. A
prisoner of destiny. Now, the shackles were off. No one knew the future apart from him. He was
now the master of his own destiny, and yet that Unspeakable wanted to strip that all away from
him.

“How did you find this secret entrance?” Riddle asked, breaking the silence.

He jolted from his thoughts. “Um, my dad and his friends made an enchanted map of Hogwarts
that had a lot of the secret passageways.” He paused. “Also, you could see where everyone was.”

Riddle hummed. “That is rather useful. Your father was very creative.”

Hadrian was silent, his face draining of colour when he was forced to remind himself that in front
of him was his parents’ killer...in the future. It was something that did not sit quite comfortably
with him. Should he punish Riddle for an event that had not even happened yet? It has ended up
being a moral dilemma that did not seem to have a particular answer. As it stood now, Riddle did
not know the future, apart from the idea that people knew of his secret horcruxes. He could still
very much turn out to be the snake-faced demon of the future.

“Of course, not very responsible of a father, giving the map to his son.”

“He didn’t.” Hadrian stared at the bare, stone walls that penned them into the narrow corridor.
“No?”

“My friend’s brothers gave it to me in my Third Year.”

Riddle gave a non-committal noise and they resumed their walk. Hadrian found his eyes wandering
more than once to the other Slytherin’s back more than once, remembering once more the other
night…

After a long stretch of silence, they emerged in the basement of Honeydukes. It instantly smelt of
heady chocolate and sugar, though much more toned down than in the future. Did the Wizards
have to ration their supplies also in the war? Hadrian watched the wall seal behind him, behind the
barrels.

Riddle effortlessly cast a disillusionment on himself, as Hadrian took out his cloak and wrapped
himself into its silvery folds. They ascended the stairs up into the main shop, taking it slowly to
make sure that the area was clear of the shopkeeper. There were only a small handful of students
and locals in the shop, and they bypassed them easily.

Outside, it was cold. But wasn’t it always in Scotland? Hadrian shuddered, wishing for the grip of
winter to release the country a bit. There was no snow, which worked in their favour of not leaving
behind any footprints. He kept in pace with Riddle, again not wanting to give the boy the idea that
he was just another one of his followers at his heels.

They moved through the streets, to the outskirts where the Hog’s Head stood. It was dark on the
outside, matching the grim inside he knew too well from his meeting there. The Tudor-esque pub
was tilted to one side, overgrown weeds climbing at its base like it was trying to swallow the
building whole. Clouds swarmed in over head, casting a grey muted light across the surroundings.
Hadrian could see Hogwarts from here in all of its glory. It was beautiful, even in the death throes
of winter.

“Hadrian.”

He stopped.

“We are a few minutes early, like planned.”

Hadrian nodded until he realised Riddle could not see. “Yes.”

“We will follow the plan...exactly.”

Swallowing at the deep voice at his side, he allowed his gaze to wander the empty road to the pub.
How did the Hog’s Head survive with the lack of business? Had it ever been busy at any time? His
palms were sweaty, and he had to wipe them against his trousers multiple times.

After an additional minute, Croaker apparated just down the road. He was buried in a thick cloak,
ambling down the path with a slight bounce in his step. The very flash of grey hair visible under
the hood, made Hadrian’s stomach clench with white-hot anger. He remembered that stupid, inane
grin. The smugness of the man oozing from every single pore he had as he stared at Hadrian like he
was a specimen in a jar.

Hadrian drew his wand out of his pocket, flicking it out to point at the man. “ Stupify .” His
emotions caught on the first syllable, practically hissing it out.

The spell hit Croaker square in the chest, spinning him around with the force of it. Hadrian watched
as the man crumpled to the floor, legs akimbo. He strode over, and he leant over and observed the
Unspeakable. His eyes were shut, but strands of his grey hair were wet, having landed in a puddle
by the dirt track.

A coil of pleasure, hot and heavy, twisted in his stomach. Now who was the vulnerable one? He
shifted off his cloak and placed it over the man, covering everything but his head. Wand still in
hand, he cast a feather-light charm on Croaker.

Hadrian pulled the man up, covering his head with the cloak as he turned towards Riddle. His
mouth instantly went dry, heart lurching up to wedge deep in his throat.

Riddle’s wand was pointed at him.

“Dumbledore would like you to show manners...bow to Death, Harry…” The stark white snake-like
face eager as he looked upon Harry, surrounded by gravestones and black-clad Death Eaters.

“Corium,” Riddle uttered.

It wasn’t the white-hot pain of Crucio or the blast of green Avada Kedavra . It was the slight
coldness of the disillusionment charm.

Relief flooded into his veins, causing his shoulders to slump. Hadrian was suddenly aware of
Croaker at his side.

The plan.

Hadrian started to make his way down the dirt path, knowing this time Riddle was following him.
Luckily, with the feather-light charm, he could lift Croaker with one arm, but the handling was
awkward and the positioning made his arm ache. He got half way down the road, and the height of
the man and positioning made him stop and release a disgruntled noise.

“Need a hand?”

He swallowed at the low voice behind him. “How do you even know where I am?” he hissed.

“I can feel your magic.”

Hadrian felt a trickle of sweat run down from his neck down his back. The Unspeakable moved,
with Riddle relocating some of Croaker’s limbs so the man was hanging between them. They
continued their journey in silence but Hadrian’s brain was stuck on the idea that the other Slytherin
could feel him, as much as he could feel Riddle. What was going on with their magic? Being in
close proximity to the future Dark Lord was proving to be hard work. Imbolc was also coming up,
which meant another ritual. It was time that he started to think of an excuse to not join in.

The Shrieking Shack soon came into view. When they had been coming up with the plan, Hadrian
had suggested the building. Riddle had expressed distaste for going into the haunted shack. The
only things he could say that made it haunted was that there were rumours of ghosts and people
dying. Of course, that would frighten the man with horcruxes away.

They entered the building through the back entrance and then Riddle locked it.

Dust fell from the ceiling above, through the cracks of the floorboards and fell onto Hadrian’s
nose. He sneezed, wrinkling his nose. Everything in here was the same as in the future...maybe
with a few less pieces of broken furniture and claw marks from Lupin’s era. It was an utter waste of
a building, in quaint Hogsmeade, but he wasn’t complaining now when they had just attacked a
Ministry Official and needed somewhere to hide.
Riddle released the magic holding them and whipped off the cloak from the unconscious man
between them. He tossed the cloak to Hadrian, who caught it and let Riddle maneuver Croaker
onto the floor. As Hadrian folded his cloak, he watched as the other boy cast various spells,
causing chains to attach to the floor, wrapping around the older man so he was immobile. Riddle
pocketed the man’s wand as well.

Hadrian stared at the man, who was sitting upright - the chains spelled that way. Like this, he
looked useless, nothing to be afraid of. Just some old guy. Were they doing the right thing? Maybe
he should have just met with Croaker and sorted this out...somehow. Maybe Dippet could have
worked something out.

“Do not let second thoughts cloud your judgment, Hadrian,” Riddle said, walking over to stand by
Hadrian’s side so he could still look down upon their prisoner. His yew wand dangled from his
fingertips.

Before Hadrian could respond, Croaker let out a small moan and his head started to move. He
wanted to move forward, rip off the chains and let the Unspeakable go. This was all a mistake.
What would Hermione and Ron think if they could see him now, standing in the Shrieking Shack
with Tom Riddle, with a Ministry Official chained on the floor in front of them? But they weren’t
here. They weren’t even born yet.

Eyes fluttered open and quickly focused on the two dark-haired boys that stood a couple of metres
away. Croaker shifted. The sound of metal echoed in the room. “What is this?” the man snarled.

He was met with silence.

Those pale eyes landed on Hadrian. “You! You leave me no choice but to tell the Ministry who
you are - Peverell . I should let you know that bringing me here against my will, will carry a
serious sentence for you and your friend . I suggest you boys let me go now, before you get into
any more trouble.”

Riddle smiled. “You are not going anywhere, Unspeakable. Not until we are done with you.”

Croaker sneered. “You have no idea who you are dealing with, boy .”

Hadrian’s hands tightened into fists by his side at ‘boy’, and Croaker’s face seemed to merge with
Vernon’s in his subconscious. “I know who we are dealing with,” he replied, stepping away from
Riddle and closer to the man sat on the floor. “We are dealing with someone without a wand,
wrapped in chains and at the mercy of two wizards.” He paused and watched the man concentrate
before looking confused. “And you can forget about any wandless magic. My... friend has made
sure that is not possible for you at the moment.”

Croaker’s sneer deepend. “Let me guess, you want me to let you go free? That I won’t tell the
Ministry who you are?”

Hadrian smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “Oh, I know you will not agree to that. You made
it very clear to Dippet and I, that you are reaching the end of your career with no real breakthrough
finds. Your department’s little mistake caused your research all to be halted. And you see me as
your ticket out. There is no way you would ever let me be free.”

“Is Dippet involved in this as well?” Croaker tried to twist his head to look around the room, but
his field of vision was limited.

“Dippet was a fool to bring me to you.”

“Oh, and I thank him for it.” That smile was back on the older man’s face, warped and too large
for his face. “Now, I grow weary of this game. Let me go, and we will discuss your time with us at
the Ministry, Hadrian. Do you not feel special that you have been selected for such a prestigious
position? Our names will go down in history!”

“You see, that does not quite work,” Riddle purred. He prowled around the man before ending up
at his back, so the man could not see him. “Hadrian’s secrets belong to me, and me only.” The
bone-white wand touched the Unspeakable’s temple before drifting down to skim his cheek.

Hadrian glared at him. “Riddle-”

“Hadrian, this man wants to lock you away forever, and pry every piece of information out of you
for his benefit.” Tom’s eyes were dark in the dim lighting of the room. “Lock you away, just like
your Muggle relatives did to you...locking you away in that cupboard of yours.”

This was not the plan. “My Muggle relatives have nothing to do with this,” he argued.

Riddle removed the wand from the man, straightening his back and looking over at the raven-
haired boy. “Oh, they have everything to do with this. When have you ever been free? Summers of
sleeping in that cupboard-”

“They gave me a room,” Hadrian interjected angrily. “After I found out I was a wizard, I got a
room.”

That elicited a hollow laugh from Riddle. “With what? A lock on the door? Did you still have to
fend for scraps?”

A growing pool of horror was opening inside of Hadrian at the other boy’s words. No, there was
more than a lock on the door. Bars on the windows. The threat of not attending Hogwarts. Missing
meals, sometimes a whole day, maybe one instance when it was two days worth. He would regress
to that. Croaker would lock him up. Hadrian would never be allowed to attend Hogwarts, never be
able to make his own choices. Just like Dumbledore had brought him up as a ‘soldier’, with no
future but to kill Voldemort. A pawn. Just another, expendable pawn.

“Let’s get this done,” he finally uttered, unable to look at Riddle.

Croaker laughed. “You think I came to meet you without fail safes?” He shook his head and the
chains clunked against the rotten floorboards. “Dippet comes to see me with a Slytherin student?
What do you want? To negotiate?”

“There are no negotiations. I will not go.”

“Well, your friend here said you were kept in a cupboard. What if we give you a proper bed?
Maybe a view of London? We could even let your friend here visit you, under supervision of
course.”

Hadrian wanted to gape at the man’s absurd ‘negotiations’, but he instead rolled his eyes. “I will
not be a pawn in anyone’s game, Croaker.”

“Ah, but you don’t belong here. This is not your time. You have already broken everything. Your
future? It no longer exists. The friends and family you love? They may never come to existence.
But you, you will probably live even if you are not born in the future, as you exist now in this time.
You are just one person. We could work together, so that the future you know, can still come to
pass.”
Hadrian felt the brush of a smile on his lips. “Your problem, Croaker, is that you underestimate
everyone around you. I never want the future that I came from, even if that means changing
everything.”

“You’re just a boy.”

The laughter bubbled up inside his chest until it spilled out. “I’ve never been just a boy,” he hissed,
walking up to the man. Those pale eyes grew as wide as the moon as the older man took in the
Parseltongue. “What part is next, Riddle? ”

“ An Unbreakable Vow is useless against torture. We cannot rely on that ,” Riddle answered,
walking back to stand at Hadrian’s side.

Croaker looked between them both. “Both of you...Parselmouths? Father....maybe a grandfather

maybe? A very dark trait…”

Hadrian snorted. “Trust me, he is not related to me.”

Riddle gave him an odd look before turning his attention back to the grey-haired Unspeakable.
“You said fail safes?”

Croaker remained silent until he jolted, his mouth opening and closing as his eyes watered. Hadrian
frowned before looking at Riddle, seeing the boy intensely staring into pale-blue eyes.
Legilimency? Was Riddle tearing through the man’s mind? Hadrian was in two minds. Did he
intervene? But then they would not get the information? He had been on the receiving end of
Voldemort’s invasion of the mind…

“He has a pensive. He had also copied his memories into there. That is his failsafe,” Riddle
relayed, before Hadrian could make his decision.

The Unspeakable moaned, his eyelids fluttering and a stream of blood seeping from his nose.

“But our plan was to just wipe his memory.”

Riddle nodded. “And now we have to adapt to the new information.”

“Riddle, you are not stupid. You knew he could have kept memories in a pensive. Why did we not
plan for that?”

The taller boy turned, looming over Hadrian. A pale hand came up to push Hadrian’s hair away
from his scar. “Because you would not go through with this if I told you. I know you have the
ability to use some of the Unforgivables; I have seen it with my own eyes. But this involves more
than you have done before.”

More? Hadrian took a step back, biting his lower lip with the electric tingles that travelled down
his scar and deep into his body. “Riddle, no.”

“If we use a Memory Charm, he still has the pensive memories and he can regain his old
memories. If we torture him into losing his mind, he still has the pensive memories and the
possibility of regaining his memories. An Unbreakable Vow is useless, as he can break it. Yes, at
the risk of his magic...but you are the opportunity of a lifetime. And he does not have long left.”

Hadrian just looked on, cold fingers hooking into every single one of his organs.

“You know what has to be done, Hadrian.”

He swallowed, glancing at the man, who was still affected by the ravaging of his mind. “I could
go.”

“You said yourself, that you cannot let the future happen the way you have seen it,” Riddle replied,
voice deep and smooth. “If you want, I could do it for you...in exchange for a Wizarding Debt.
Maybe I could even use it for my next horcrux.”

Hadrian shoved a hand through his hair before releasing a long string of expletives.

“You go Hadrian, and all you will ever be is that little boy locked in a cupboard. A freak.”

His heartbeat thundered in his ears. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this. You can’t do this.”

“Forever under someone’s thumb. Your future will happen.”

Hadrian’s eyes closed and he saw. He saw the imagined deaths of his parents, of Quirrell
disintegrating at his fingertips, Ginny Weasley’s lifeless body in the Chamber, Cedric’s body in the
graveyard, Sirius’ body floating into the Veil as Bellatrix cackled happily… And how many more?
How many more would die before he finally faced off with Voldemort? Ron, Hermione?
Dumbledore? The Weasley’s?

“Too much rests on me, to get this right,” Hadrian croaked out finally. His eyes opened, green and
vivid. “But this cannot be one of your horcruxes…and we already have a deal, Riddle. I am not
making another with you. Regardless if you do it, his death is on me.”

Riddle’s face was unreadable as he gestured over to the groaning Unspeakable. “Make sure you
mean it.”

Hadrian drew in a breath, his eyes pricking with heat. “After? The pensive?”

“We go to his home and destroy it.”

“The...the body?” He swallowed heavily at the word.

“It will be in the house, as well.”

Hadrian raised his wand. He had to mean it. His eyes soaked in Croaker’s face, that slack-jawed
face that as soon as the man came properly too, would curve into that infuriating smile. And those
pale eyes would stare at him hungrily. Prodded like an animal. Kept locked in a cage, whilst Riddle
transformed into Voldemort. His friends...all dead...family…

“Avada Kedavra.”

Emerald light shot from his wand, hitting the man in the stomach. Croaker slumped against the
chains. Dead.

Hadrian stared before his gaze drifted down to the wand in his hand. His magic pulsed with energy.

A hand took his, pushing down his wand. Then his vision was taken over by cinnamon eyes. “How
did it feel?”

All words were stuck in his throat. The pulse of his magic had robbed him of most of his senses,
and with Riddle’s proximity, their magic danced . There was a tightness in his stomach that
throbbed in rhythm with the warm tingling of his scar.

Fingers touched his chin.

“It feels...like a...whirlpool,” Hadrian breathed, eyes fluttering shut as his senses became
overwhelmed by the sensations of the other boy’s proximity.

Something soft brushed against his lips before it withdrew, along with the heady magic. Emerald
eyes shot open. Riddle was standing over Croaker’s body. A body. The body. His throat convulsed
with a swallow.

“Hadrian, we need to get rid of the evidence now.”

Evidence. Evidence…

He nodded numbly. Get rid of the evidence.

 Chapter 20
Chapter Notes

Please don't hate me after this chapter!

Your comments were so amazing in the last chapter, and I am glad you liked the turn
of events. I loved seeing your reactions, and there is more drama to come!

Hadrian did not reach for the tea that had been made for him. It sat on the desk, a little too milky
for his personal taste but he would happily drink it. Maybe it would calm his nerves. But he didn’t.
Riddle had warned him against it. When he had gotten the letter to ask him to attend Dippet’s
Office, Riddle had made it clear that he was not to take any offered food or drink. Veriterserum
was tasteless.

His eyes roamed around the office before Dippet cleared his throat, placing his quill down.

“Apologies, Hadrian, I had something urgent to respond to.” Dippet stood, folding the letter. With
a swish of ash-coloured robes, he moved to the window, handing the parchment over and muttering
to his owl where he wanted it delivered.

“That is fine.”

Dippet strode over and sat down, picking up his tea and sipping it. The silence fell thick between
them until the Headmaster took a copy of The Daily Prophet and slid it across the desk to settle
next to Hadrian’s untouched drink.

There were a multitude of headlines crammed onto the front page.

“What?” Hadrian pulled his face into a frown.

The paper flicked over, limiting it to the bottom half. ‘ Blaze takes Professor’s life ’ read the
headline in bold black ink. Hadrian had already read it, yesterday when it had been published and
Riddle had given it to him over breakfast. However, he feigned reading it for the first time.

“Professor Croaker?” Hadrian asked.

“He died. In a fire, in his home. Luckily, it appears he was asleep when it happened.”

“That’s a shame.” He paused. “How did the fire start?”

Riddle pushed the body onto the bed, and both of them watched the corpse bounce on the mattress
before settling. He flicked his wand, and Croaker’s clothes were removed. They had found no
pyjamas, so it was clear the man probably slept nude.

“Candles. He is reading...falls asleep with the candles.” Riddle eyed the four candles on the
bedside table. “Too drunk, he does not wake.”

“He has not drunk anything,” Hadrian replied.

Riddle shot him a small smirk before lifting the bottle of whisky he had stolen from the living room
on their way upstairs. “I spell it into his stomach.” He flicked his wand, and the amber liquid
reduced in the clear bottle.

With another flick, the candles burned where they lay. Riddle took the Unspeakable’s arm and
flung it at the candles, as if he were in the throes of sleep.

“Candles by his bedside.” Dippet stared at him.

Hadrian gave a slight nod. “That is unfortunate.” He met the Headteacher’s gaze. “What did you
want to see me about?”

“He died on Saturday. The day we were to make the decision.”

He hummed. “Yes. It is very sad.”

Dippet sighed. “Where were you on Saturday, Hadrian?”

“Studying.”

“You did not turn up to lunch.”

Hadrian nodded. “We got caught up in some stupid Arithmacy debate in the classroom we were
studying in, in the dungeons.”

“We?”

“Antonin, Dorian, Elias, Abraxas, Silas, Riddle and Avery.” He arched an eyebrow at the man.
“Are you questioning me for a reason, Headmaster?”

The older man’s lips thinned. “Hadrian, I ask this as you refused to meet me all week to discuss
Unspeakable Croaker’s request. He ends up dead on the day he gives us for his deadline.”

Hadrian allowed his face to transform into one of disbelief. “You think I did it? I have trusted you
with knowledge of who I am, and what the future looks like. You know how I have fought against
the Dark my entire life. And you accuse me of...murdering someone?”

Dippet exhaled noisily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I worry about Riddle’s influence.”

“This is ridiculous.” Hadrian stood up.

“Sit down, Hadrian.”

“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, this type of suspicion is part of the reason
Riddle turns out that way - into Voldemort. Dumbledore’s prejudices fueled everything at school.”

Dippet’s nostrils flared before his expression fell. “I apologise, Hadrian.” His finger circled the rim
of his cup before he looked into burning emerald eyes. “But promise me one thing. Promise me
that you will come to me if you feel you are slipping.”

Hadrian shook his head. “You put me in danger once, Headmaster. Why should I trust you again?”
Without waiting for a response, he left the office and walked down the corridor. He tried to control
his breathing, but his heart was clawing at his chest trying to get out. His fingers trembled and he
almost walked straight into a small gaggle of First Year Gryffindors.

Muttering an apology, he swept through the castle and threw himself on his bed in his dormitory.
Hadrian planted his face into his pillow, body curling into a foetal position. A sob escaped his
throat, tears falling wetly into the silver pillowcase.

Images of Croaker’s face flitted through his mind...the inane smile...the blood seeping from his
nose...the blank and dead expression…

Was he just as bad as Riddle now?

“Hadrian?”

He ignored the quiet voice, too upset to feel embarrassed.

A hand slid onto his shoulder, gently squeezing. “I know Binns’ classes are bad, but not this bad.”
The hand stroked down his back, in firm but gentle motions. “I asked to check on you.”

Hadrian took in a deep breath before turning around, leaving the comfort of the pillow. It was blue
eyes he saw first, with blonde strands of hair falling into them. Cassius was devastatingly
handsome. The shadows of the dormitory threw planes of darkness across his face, a mix of green
light pouring across the bed from the lake above.

Pale fingers brushed over his cheeks, chasing away the tear marks on Hadrian’s cheeks. “I won’t
ask why you are upset.” Cassius paused. “You can tell me in your own time.”

Hadrian’s chest tightened before he turned his face away to stare at the window, where shadows
floated past. “Have you ever felt…” He trailed off, biting down on his bottom lip.

Cassius was silent, his hand sweeping down to his shoulder to squeeze gently.

He closed his eyes. “Have you ever felt like you are slipping away?”

“More than you know.” There was amusement tinged in with the reply. “Look, Hadrian, it
probably is not my place to say this...but you need to be careful about getting close to Tom. You
need to understand, as a new member of Slytherin, that he does not care about anyone but himself.
Yes, he is magnificent and powerful...and we follow and believe his cause. But...do not fall under
his spell.”

It was too late. Riddle wasn’t bewitching him. No, Riddle was a spider and Hadrian was trapped in
a very sticky web. It wasn’t just their magic or parseltongue that joined them now. Death joined
them. Hadrian had murdered someone...just because he wanted to.

“Jealous?” he managed to say, trying to fight away the darkness of his mind.

Something crossed Avery’s face as Hadrian turned his head back. Cassius’ fingers crept back up to
Hadrian’s cheek, gently stroking.

“Always.” Cassius bent down, brushing a kiss over his lips.

Emerald eyes widened, his mind flickering back to that classroom. Of the moans floating out...and
Riddle’s head tilting back. Hadrian found his hand drifting up, to take the other Slytherin’s tie.

He tugged Cassius down to kiss him once again. The kiss was gentle at first, until Avery’s hand
took raven hair and pulled his head back. Hadrian gasped, and a warm tongue slid against his. He
let go of the tie, his hands gripping Cassius’ shoulders, which were slim but strong.

The sounds of their kissing filled the silence of the room.

Hadrian made a startled noise as Cassius moved and his legs fell either side of his. Their bodies
pressed flush together. He marvelled at the weight of another person on top of him, his mind
focusing on their chests...legs and waists joined. With a strangled noise, Hadrian pulled his head to
the side, gasping for breath.

Hot, wet kisses pressed to his neck. He arched up as Cassius’ teeth brushed against the skin. It
coaxed a moan from Cassius, who pulled away. Blue and green eyes met.

“You are…”

Hadrian pulled Cassius down into another kiss. Avery groaned, pressing his hips down.

Suddenly, Hadrian became aware of a presence, something familiar. He gasped as Cassius

disappeared. There was a loud noise from Lestrange’s bed.

He pushed up onto his elbows, face draining of colour. Riddle stood in the doorway of the
dormitory, wand dangling from his fingers. An unreadable expression was on his face. There was a
creaking noise before Cassius emerged from Silas’ duvet, face flushed.

“Binns is expecting you back, Avery ,” Riddle said, almost hissing out Cassius’ name. When there
was no movement, he glared at Lestrange’s bed. “Go, now.”

Cassius clambered out of the bed and whisked out of the room, leaving Riddle and Hadrian alone.
Hadrian pulled the covers into his lap, glowering at the Heir of Slytherin as he started to come to
his senses.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Hadrian snapped back.

Riddle strode over to the end of the bed, staring down at him. “You were hidden in the library all
Sunday, and now you are skipping classes? No wonder Dippet wanted to see you.”

Avada Kedavra eyes flashed. “Fuck off, Riddle. What I do is none of your business.”

That full mouth twisted. “From now on, it is my business. Get ready to go to class. You can’t
afford to draw attention to yourself.” He turned his back on Hadrian. “Tonight, after dinner, we
meet in the Chamber. The pensive is ready, and it is time to call in your end of the deal.” Riddle
left the dormitory.

Hadrian exhaled a frustrated sound, hitting his fist into his rumpled duvet.

***

It was not where he wanted to be. No amount of hiding in the library yesterday helped him try and
get things right in his head. No amount had cleared his conscience either. Images of Croaker in the
Shrieking Shack haunted him, but not in the way that he thought it would. He saw the flash of
green light, but then the energy and his magic dancing with Riddle’s. It was the effect of casting
the spell that had affected him the most, leading him into more smothering guilt.

Hadrian stared at the jewel-encrusted bowl sitting on top of the large desk. Every emerald winked
at him in the glowing candlelight.

When Riddle had interrupted Cassius and his...whatever it was, things had been slightly different in
their group. In Potions and Transfiguration, Silas and Abraxas had intercepted him and made sure
that he sat with one of them instead of his usual place near Cassius. It was difficult to see where the
change had come from. Was it Avery, especially after Hadrian had rejected him before? Or was it
Riddle, trying to keep Hadrian’s mind focused, so nobody gets suspicious?

“You know, it helps to clear your mind first.”

Hadrian startled at the voice behind him, his magic slipping from his control. He quickly clamped
it back.

The bowl’s silvery liquid shimmered. There were runes encrusting the top of the bowl, old runes.
Probably put there by Salazar Slytherin himself.

His gut clenched as he fingered his wand, which lay in front of him on the table also. His eyes
flickered up as Riddle’s long fingers pushed the bowl across the table, so that it was right under
Hadrian’s nose.

“Have you thought about where to begin?”

He drew in a breath, not looking at the other Slytherin. “Yes.” He lifted his wand. “Riddle, are you
sure you want this?”

There was a long pause. “Do it.”

Hadrian had been studying the way to extract memories into a pensive whilst Riddle had been
going through the plans for Croaker’s...end. He raised his wand and placed it at his temple. There
was a tingle, before he moved his wand down to the pensive, the silver threads of his memory
floating in the air before sliding into the liquid.

Riddle drew the bowl over to where he stood, beside Hadrian. He lowered his head into the fluid.

The silence was deafening. He could see what Riddle was viewing. The first memory was a
carefully chosen one. Riddle had seen his childhood, knew what that was like. Knew he lived
without parents. This was Hagrid...the shack where Vernon had hidden them so Harry would not
get his letter...The Leaky Cauldron…

Hadrian swallowed, his heart aching with how hard it was pounding against his ribcage. Was he
doing the right thing? What if nothing changed? But what if everything changed?

After an hour, Riddle resurfaced. His mouth pinched and he swept away to a bookcase, back turned
to Hadrian. Hadrian took his wand, lifting the copy of the memory and planted it back.

It took another few minutes, for Riddle to walk back over, sitting down in the chair opposite
Hadrian.

“I kill your parents.”

Hadrian winced at the directness of the statement, but he met those curious, cinnamon eyes. “Yes.”

“You know me as Voldemort.”

“Yes.”
Riddle’s mouth twisted. “You know that oaf, Hagrid.”

He glared. “Yes...and I know he did not kill Myrtle last year. You got him expelled, to cover up for
your crimes. Hagrid is a good man.”

Riddle snorted. “He brought an acromantula into the castle. That half-giant brought numerous
things from the Forbidden Forest that would endanger people.”

Hadrian raised an eyebrow. “You released a basilisk into the student body.”

There was another silence. “How did a one-year-old baby…”

“Destroy you?” It was Hadrian’s turn to smirk at Riddle’s outraged face. “I am still not quite sure.
Dumbledore said it was my mother’s love.”

Riddle released a disgusted noise. “Love?”

He shrugged. “As I said, I’m still not sure.”

Those eyes rose. “And I gave you that scar.”

Hadrian pulled his hair over the lightning bolt. “Stop staring.”

“Are you not curious?” Riddle tilted his head to the side. “That is not a usual scar. I hit you with
the Killing Curse...and I become....something else. Not dead.” He froze.

“What?” Hadrian shifted, unnerved by the expression on the other boy’s face.

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “Why do I go after your family?”

“That is a different memory.”

Riddle stood. “I want to know more.”

Hadrian sighed. “It’s getting late.”

When the Heir of Slytherin stood up, giving him a pointed look, he sighed and placed his wand
back to his temple. He withdrew his next memory that he had lined up, watching with bated breath
as it moved into the pensive. Once more, Riddle submerged.

It would be the Forbidden Forest this time. His detention, walking along with Malfoy...wanting
Fang as a guard dog. The hunt for a bleeding unicorn...a black cloaked figure...not human...not a
ghost...something else… Unicorn blood dribbling from a bared mouth under the guise of the cloak.
Pain.

Riddle came out of the pensive with a jolt. However, instead of retreating to a corner, he suddenly
made a move. He pulled Hadrian’s chair out and slammed his hands either side, onto the arms -
trapping the raven-haired boy.

“Is that what I become?”

Hadrian swallowed, looking up at the face that hovered above his. “You know the answer to that.”

“How? How can you…” Riddle stopped for a moment. “You are seen as my defeat.” One of the
hands travelled up, to brush away the hair that Hadrian had covered his scar with. “This caused
you pain in the forest, just looking at me.” A finger came down on the lightning bolt.
A shuttering gasp escaped from his mouth as his scar pulsed. Not with pain. No, the opposite.
Emerald eyes closed as his back arched. Something inside his body ached with need.

Everything stopped.

Riddle had stepped away, his face neutral as he took in Hadrian’s dishevelled appearance. “I need
to see more.”

Hadrian’s tongue swiped his bottom lip. “It’s almost curfew, Riddle.” He stood up, brushing down
his trousers. His nerves felt wobbly and his scar still felt tingly. “This is enough...for tonight.”

Cinnamon eyes stared long and hard at him. “I want to see everything, everything you know about
me.”

Hadrian grimaced, wearily running a hand over his face. “Isn’t that what I am doing? I need to
rest.”

Riddle eventually nodded. He took his cloak off the back of his chair, and gestured for Hadrian to
accompany him out. The two of them descended the stairs and into the tunnel, walking into the
main body of the Chamber.

Onyx slithered across the polished floor, every so often dipping into the curves where the runes
had been etched. He was sliding with purpose and excitement, having no doubt spent all of this
time with Una.

Hadrian stopped to scoop up his familiar, who slithered up his arm and onto his shoulder. Still in
silence, they ascended the stairs that Riddle enchanted, climbing up to the girl’s bathroom. Myrtle
was not there.

The Chamber closed behind them, and they walked out of the bathroom.

An arm barricaded Hadrian’s steps. He was about to hiss something angrily at Riddle, when the
boy shoved him against the door. Suddenly, lips covered his. Hadrian made a strangled noise at the
unexpected action but Riddle pressed in closer. His senses zeroed in on the soft lips pressing
urgently against his, moving. The tingle started again in his scar, coaxing his magic forward.

However, Riddle’s magic, like an iron wall, slammed against his...trapping his magic in his body.
No dance this time. Hadrian’s hands gathered in Riddle’s shirt, feeling the warmth of his body
underneath.

What was happening? He was about to shove Riddle away when a voice sounded to their right.

“Boys?”

Riddle withdrew. His eyes searched Hadrian’s for a second before he stepped back. “Professor
Dumbledore.”

Hadrian felt his cheeks light with the fire of embarrassment. He couldn’t meet his old
Headmaster’s eyes.

“It is almost curfew. The corridors are not the place for...dalliances.” Dumbledore paused,
adjusting his glasses as his eyes soaked in Riddle’s appearance. “Especially near a female
lavatory.”

“Apologies, Sir.”
Hadrian was mortified and he did not know what was worse: the fact Riddle had kissed him or the
fact Dumbledore had found them. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“Yes, now run along the both of you.”

Riddle pulled Hadrian’s arm, leading the other Slytherin down the corridor - heading to the stairs.

“What was that ?” Hadrian hissed.

“You want Dumbledore suspicious of the Chamber?” Riddle replied through his teeth as the
descended one of the moving stairways. “Two boys coming out of the girl’s bathrobe where
Moaning Myrtle was killed last year?”

He clenched his jaw, pulling out of Riddle’s grasp to stalk slightly ahead of him. “You are a piece
of work, Riddle.” Onyx curled around Hadrian’s neck, draping over it like a scarf. His familiar had
grown recently, width and lengthways. “Never do that again.” He stomped all the way down to the
common room, ignoring Riddle who stayed silent all the way down.
 Chapter 21
Chapter Notes

Thank you everyone who commented, I hope you like the replies! It has been a tough
week to find time to write, so I hope this was not too long of a wait.

I hope you like the direction this is going, and your comments have been amazing.
This is my first proper fanfiction I have ever written (tried some DracoxHarry but did
not quite work out), so I am always doubting everything.

When I said it was a slow burn, I meant it!

A few comments have stated over the last few chapters they would like to see a Tom
POV chapter. It wouldn't quite work now, at this point, and I worry that it will mess up
the fixed POV on Hadrian. However, if there is an interest, I will write one.

Well, enjoy this chapter - there are some bit I know you will like! (Well, I hope so!)

MINISTRY OF MAGIC SENDS TROOPS TO EUROPE

Minister of Magic, Leonard Spencer-Moon, has deployed a number of specially trained Aurors to
Europe in a mission to finally take down Gellert Grindelwald. The notorious and dangerous Dark
wizard has been actively recruiting, under his ideology of ‘The Greater Good’. The Minister made
a statement last year that Grindelwald’s efforts to seek ‘war upon the world’ was an act of
terrorism that needed to be neutralised. The deployment of top-level Aurors will hopefully allow
the British public to sleep more peacefully at night. (Turn to Page 3 for more on Grindelwald’s
timeline of terror) .

Hadrian gave a small snort before he allowed his eyes to look at the moving picture of Gellert
Grindelwald, in action of fighting against two men. It was taken in some street. Someone had
gotten very close just to snap this…

His thoughts tumbled off into nothingness as he watched, hypnotised, as Grindelwald swished his
wand. Elder wood. That was what reports over time had fabled the wand to be made of. And due to
its status as a Deathly Hallow, the core a Thestral hair from its tail. Truly a work of Death.

A shudder chased down his spine as he remembered that horrifying entity he had felt after All
Hallows Eve.

His thumb brushed over the image. Could it be that this notched wand was the one? Hadrian
peered down, seeing the runes etched onto the band above the handle. There was something about
it...that was different. During his research of the Hallows, he had come across a report of a Dark
wizard called Loxias beaten by another named Arcus. Then it disappeared for a while.

Luckily, the librarian loved his quest for very random and old information. The man had spent a
week going through lineage documents pertaining to Arcus - conqueror of Loxias. It turned out
Arcus had reported the wand stolen from his property, apparently kicking up a storm with Aurors
about it being the most powerful wand in the world. He had openly pinned the blame on a
wandmaker called Mykew Gregorovitch, who had visited during that week unexpectedly - even
going to The Daily Prophet.

Hadrian had been certain that Gregorovitch was the owner. But this changed everything. This time,
no rash decisions. He would have to make sure the wandmaker no longer had it in his possession.

The danger was that if Hadrian’s gut feeling was correct, he would have to win the wand. His cloak
was firmly in his possession. The next one was the stone, and that would need careful planning.
The Gaunts were the owners. Riddle’s line - his mother, Merope Gaunt. Riddle had massacred
most of them, so in their house somewhere, was the stone. An heirloom with magnificent value.

Emerald eyes flickered to the pensive, where Riddle was still submerged. He sighed, fingers
itching to just reach over and try and drown him in the fluid. It wouldn’t work, of course, but it
would probably make him feel a little satisfied.

He folded the newspaper, making some mental notes on his next moves for the Hallows. It would
take time. He had to learn patience, and squash his want to just go and do it.

Hadrian pulled his Arithmancy book over, looking over the symbols and equations. He continued
his essay on Curse Breaking.

Half an hour later, Riddle yanked himself free of the pensive.

“What have you done?” Riddle hissed, slamming his fist onto the table.

Hadrian arched a dark eyebrow at him. “Relax, Riddle. Your diary - your horcrux - is still
intact….for now.”

“Is that a threat?” Those cinnamon eyes seemed to take on a scarlet hue.

His wand was ready on the table, and his fingers hovered near the handle. “No, just the truth. What
you saw was forty-odd years in the future.”

Riddle sneered at him before whisking away to his chair. He scooted it to one side, tapping those
long and elegant fingers on the table as he glared at the floor.

Hadrian sighed, going back to his Arithmancy homework. His finger skimmed the line that he was
using as his reference as he jotted down the next line of his essay. In fact, his first draft essay.
Hermione had gone on about drafting and its importance, but he had always found something else
to do. Who knew that it would take a Malfoy as his tutor to teach him the importance of it?

“You know me as Voldemort.”

Hadrian startled, his quill scratching into the line he had just written. Cursing, he placed the quill
down, very glad that it would only end up being a draft. “Yes, I do.”

There was a heavy sigh. “Hadrian, when you answer, answer properly. No with such basic
responses.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know you as Voldemort. What more do you want me to say?”

“You spoke to me through the diary? And that ginger girl?”

Hadrian nodded. “You spoke to Ginny first, lured her into your trap. She had enough of you, so she
dumped your diary into a toilet.” He fought back a smile at Riddle’s horrified expression. “I found
it abandoned, and your horcrux - your memory - sucked me into the diary to show off how you
framed Hagrid. In my naivety, I did not connect the dots. In the future, your actual name is not
widely known. Ginny stole it back, where you controlled her to open the Chamber.”

“They know me as Voldemort in the future,” Riddle stated, mostly to himself. “I kill your parents,
take over your First Year Defense teacher to try and resurrect myself through the Philosopher’s
Stone...then in your Second Year I come to you as one of my horcruxes. Our fates are quite
interwoven with each other. By why you? Why did I go after a child? What makes you special?”

Hadrian looked away from that intense gaze that turned his way. He knew. He knew that it would
boil down to a prophecy. The child born as the seventh month dies. For not the first time, Hadrian
felt out of his depth and felt doubt whether this was the right way to go about dealing with Tom
Riddle.

“Why did you decide to split your soul?” At the silence that followed, Hadrian looked up to see
Riddle just staring. “Is that it? You aren’t going to tell me?”

Shoulders rose in a slight shrug.

Hadrian shook his head, laughing. “Of course you aren’t. But I know why. Your fear of death. You
want your immortality.” It was his time to shrug. “There are other ways of doing it that don’t
involve destroying your soul.”

“Who else knows...now? In this time?”

“Riddle, you can either answer my questions or this ends here.” Hadrian stood up and started to
gather his homework and books. “I fulfilled my end of the deal here by showing you the future.
You did not state how much.”

“Close.”

Suddenly, the entrance to the library sealed as a stone door slid up from the steps. Hadrian shook
his head.

“Open.”

With a grinding noise, the door sunk back into the floor.

He looked back at Riddle. “Look, you can’t fight me with your wand. You can’t control me with
parseltongue. You need to understand why I have decided to show you these memories.” He
started to walk out.

“Hadrian.”

He stopped, looking back as he held his books to his chest. Riddle’s eyes were dark, curled hair
falling into them as he leant forward in the chair. His elbows rested on his knees. Even from this
distance, he could practically see the Heir of Slytherin’s magic curled in, wrapped around Riddle
like a serpent.

“Sit.”

Hadrian arched a brow. “No ‘please’?”

Riddle’s upper lip curled. “Do you have to be so obnoxious?”

“It isn’t a hard word to say. A little kindness could go a long way.”

“The same kindness you showed that Unspeakable?”

His face drained of colour. Hadrian grimaced and walked back to his place at the table, dumping
his books on the surface.

“How much more is there to show me?”

“You don’t appear in my Third Year...but you do in my Fourth and Fifth.”

Riddle straightened up in his chair, facing the other Slytherin boy. “Tell me more about your
relationship with Dumbledore.”

Hadrian stiffened. “No.” He continued before Riddle could interject. “Not until you have seen
everything, otherwise things will not make sense. You have seen the conversations that I have had
with him.”

“And yet, here, in the past, you have questioned him openly. You defended Dark magic. Is this
some kind of plan with him?”

“You think Dumbledore would condone this?” Hadrian hissed. “That he would allow me to kill a
man? In the future, I am Dumbledore’s guy. You are...repulsive. You killed my family… You...”
He trailed off, fighting back the urge to scream in the future Dark Lord’s face. Here Riddle looked
human, just like he had in the diary. But the future Hadrian knew, had Voldemort in it; the
noseless, serpentine creature that wreaked destruction upon anyone in his path to total control.
“Look at what you become. Is that what you want?”

Riddle clenched his jaw before answering, “No, but now I know not to make the same mistakes.”

His heart thudded against his ribs. “Is this all you are taking from this?”

His full lips curled into a dark smile, eyes glittering. “You had something else in mind, Hadrian ?”
A long finger tapped on the table as he slowly turned to fully face him. “What did you think would
happen? That I would see the error of my ways?”

“You are a piece of work, Riddle.”

“That is what you expected, isn’t it?” Riddle stood and stalked around the table. “You expected to
change me.”

Hadrian shot to his feet, taking steps back so that the distance remained between them. “Even if I
can’t change you, I have already changed things.”

“And I have changed you.”

Hadrian froze at Riddle’s words. He had changed. Harry Potter was the future baby born of the
Potters, maybe never to be The-Boy-Who-Lived. Here, he was Hadrian Peverell, the boy from the
future who Death had a particular interest in, and had killed a man to save his freedom. His eyes
shot up to Riddle, releasing a startled sound when he saw just how close the other boy had gotten.

“You have not changed me.”

“No?” Riddle stepped forward, so they were chest to chest. “In the future, my mere presence
causes you pain, but look.”

Hadrian’s eyes widened as Riddle released his magic. That seductive darkness was a storm between
them as his own magic was pried out of its enclosure. He released a strangled noise as the darkness
curled around him, forcing him to tilt his head backwards. Those cinnamon eyes were close, staring
deep into him, as if reading his soul. Hadrian felt more naked than he had ever felt before.

A pale hand came to skim Hadrian’s cheek. Riddle’s pupils were blown - the only colour a brown
tinged with red in a ring around the black. “Your magic sings to me, Hadrian. Our fates are
joined.”

His gaze fell to Riddle’s lips, which hovered over his. Was Riddle going to kiss him again?
Hadrian’s brain flitted to the moment yesterday, where they had used a kiss to divert Dumbledore’s
attention from the entrance to the Chamber. Where Riddle had used him.

“No!” Hadrian took a step back, but his magic was too entangled with the other Slytherin’s and
pain struck his chest.

He tried to reel back his magic, but it was traitorous, more interested in dancing with Riddle’s.
Both of their magic were curled around each other, like a lover’s embrace.

“Do you know what your magic feels like, Hadrian?” Riddle whispered, standing his ground and
watching. “Warm, so warm. It feels like the sun on my skin on a warm, summer’s day. There is
such purity...but with something richer...something darker which lurks beneath.”

He swallowed. Hard. Riddle’s magic was so dark, so black but there was warmth. That seductive
lull that encouraged him to take a step forward. It took every molecule of his existence to withstand
the call.

“I seek to kill you in the future you know, but that will never happen.” Hunger struck in those dark
eyes. Just like the hunger Tom Riddle had revealed to him in his Second Year. “Something joins
us.”

... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power that the Dark Lord knows
not…

Hadrian knew in his bones that his fate would be forever entwined with Riddle, whether he liked it
or not. Whatever the prophecy meant, it was easy to decipher that Riddle was his equal. Whatever
‘power’ he had over the future Dark Lord was yet to show itself.

“I will never be your follower, Riddle. I will never share your corrupted ideology,” Hadrian
replied. He had hoped his voice was strong, but the waver was clear.

Riddle smiled. “You want me to learn from my mistakes. You do not want the future you know.
Why don’t we make a new deal?”

“I always feel like I am making a deal with the Devil, with you.”

“I will take that as a compliment.” Riddle paused. “You will show me the rest, and answer my
questions...honestly. And in return, I will let you question my ‘corrupted ideology’.”

Hadrian bit his bottom lip, unaware that Riddle followed that movement. It was a tantalising offer.
To be able to question Riddle’s methods and challenge them, was an opportunity that no one else
would have. Would he be able to make a difference? Surely he had to try. “I don’t want you to
make any more horcruxes until you know everything I want you to.”
Riddle chuckled, a dark and rich noise that made Hadrian’s stomach flip. “An extra want. We need
to make this equal, Hadrian. For your addition to our new agreement, there is something else I
want from you.”

Hadrian’s mind fell apart. What could Riddle possibly want from him?

“I want to explore this magic further.”

He blinked. “Fine.”

“Swear it.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes. “I swear.” He then let out a sound of relief as Riddle started to withdraw
his magic. Pulling on his own, it slowly started to untangle.

“We should return, as we have Imbolc preparations to make with the rest of them.” Riddle whisked
away back to his place to gather his things when their magic had separated, leaving Hadrian
standing there and wondering if he had made the right decision. He rubbed his scar, where instead
of the tingle - there was a slight burn.

***

Imbolc was Friday night, and apparently, it was the group’s first time performing it. They were sat
in their group of chairs by the fire, Silas having shooed everyone away for the night.

Hadrian had been surprised that they were joined by the Seventh Year Slytherin boys. When had
Riddle involved them so heavily? All of their eyes had been full with curiosity as Riddle had
entered the common room with Hadrian. All bowed their heads at Riddle.

How had he gotten this loyalty from them all? Was it his magic, charms...torture? Of course, the
boy spoke Parseltongue and that was seen as a gift from Salazar Slytherin.

Initially, there had been a space next to Cassius, but Riddle had told Antonin to take that - freeing
up the chair next to Riddle’s. There was symbolism in that. Hadrian had noticed a hierarchy to their
seating arrangements, especially in lessons, the Great Hall and more so in the common room.
Abraxas was always close, always on Riddle’s left hand side. Now Hadrian was sitting on the right
hand side.

“Knights - you are the future of the wizarding race,” Riddle began. “It is vital that this ritual
succeeds, especially in the dire times we are in, due to Grindelwald. A number of you have
betrothal contracts in place, with good, strong matches. It is important that as we go out into the
world outside of Hogwarts, we remember our duty to continue our lines.”

Hadrian inwardly shuddered. He was glad that in the future he knew, Voldemort had not seemed to
sire a child. Imagine having sex with Voldemort? That pale skin, big crimson eyes and that
disgusting snake-face. Imagine that leering over you. His scar tingled.

“Hadrian.”

He blinked, looking at Riddle. The Heir of Slytherin was giving him an odd look.
“Can you keep your mind on the ritual?”

Hadrian’s stomach flopped. Had he been projecting his thoughts? His cheeks flushed a little. But
he had not been making eye contact with Riddle, so it was not legilimens. How? He pushed his
questions to one side. “I am,” he answered tersely.

There was a sharp, collective intake of breath at the way he spoke back.

Riddle pursed his lips. “I will not punish you this time for your lack of respect, as you are new to
our ways.” He then switched to parseltongue. “Whatever you are doing, stop it. I do not want to see
such grotesque imagery.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Hadrian retorted. “Besides, that grotesque imagery is your future face.”
He smirked at the gleam of horror in Riddle’s eyes. The other boy was doing a very good job at
schooling his expression.

“Be quiet. It may be an...unwanted side effect of our magic.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes subtly as he leant back in his wing-backed chair. His cheeks flushed again
at the curious and horrified looks from the Slytherins, especially the Seventh Years, who did not
really know Hadrian Peverell.

“Those with betrothal contracts, have you managed to acquire your future spouses’ hair?”

There was a quick run around of the boys who did. Hadrian was not surprised to see all of the
Seventh Years with betrothals lined up, but he was quite surprised to see not just Cassius, but
Abraxas and Silas engaging in the discussion. It was only yesterday that he was in bed with Avery,
fumbling around until Riddle had rudely entered.

Perhaps Hadrian should take a female to Hogsmeade, if any were interested. He had once found
Ginny attractive, so maybe he would still be attracted to other girls. Could he ever be betrothed to
anyone? Having children had never occurred to him, having believed he would die at the hands of
Voldemort before he got the chance to reach adulthood. He had so much he wanted to do with life,
being anchored down by something like a wife or kids seemed counterproductive.

“We have the herbs, candles and altar set up. The chalice?” Riddle asked, voice silky and smooth.

“I have aquired that, my Lord,” Dorian answered.

“Good work.” The fire cast shadows over Riddle’s face. “And are we familiar with the wording?”

There was a chorus of agreement. Hadrian just nodded along, but he had not gotten around to
looking at it. There had been too much to deal with, with Croaker and setting up his memories for
Riddle.

Onyx came across the floor, causing a few to draw their legs up. The snake slithered up Hadrian’s
chair, giving him a lick to the hand as he moved to curl up in his Master’s lap. Onyx had definitely
grown in size. His body was almost as thick than Hadrian’s fist, and seemed to be growing by the
day. He was lengthening too, almost three feet now. Markings had appeared on his spine too - a
rainbow-like sheen that when it caught the light glittered like jewels. A scitalis. Very rare and
dangerous. It was likely the shopkeeper had not known what they were selling to Avery. When
Dumbledore had seen Onyx, the snake would have appeared just as a normal, baby snake.

Now, Hadrian had housed Onyx mostly in the Chamber or in the dormitory. His days of eaves-
dropping on Riddle were over - not that the snake did any of that. All Onyx ever fed back to him
were tales of his beautiful Una’s yellow eyes were.

His fingers ran over Onyx’s scales on his head and down his spine, as he watched the meeting.
More than one of the boys had cast uncertain eyes in his direction, reminding him of Justin Finch-
Fletchley’s reaction to his use of Parseltongue.

Twenty minutes later, everyone was excused.

“Hadrian, stay.”

He shot Riddle an annoyed look. “You have had me in the Chamber since dinner and now this
meeting. I am tired.”

A few of the boys had slowed their movements, taking in the hissed and private conversation
between the two powerful wizards. That was until Riddle gave them a pointed look.

“You need to pay more attention in these meetings.”

Hadrian raised an eyebrow. “Why? They are quite boring.”

Riddle grinned. “Need a bit of torture to liven it up? We could always Crucio someone, or find
some stupid Gryffindor. ”

He rolled his eyes and stood. “No. No torture. I will try and listen more.” With Onyx in his arms,
he headed to the door to the dormitories. “Goodnight Riddle.” He left, but swore he heard a
muttered ‘Goodnight ’ back.
 Chapter 22
Chapter Notes

Thank you for your amazing comments - I am so glad you loved the dynamic between
Tom and Harry in the last chapter.

Enjoy this, and let me know what you think!

A cacophony of sounds and smells rose in the Great Hall as the student body poured in for
breakfast. Above, the enchanted ceiling mirrored the sky outside, only streaks of cirrus clouds
interrupting the never-ending blue. The sun was pale in the dying February, but the warmth clearly
had a positive effect on the teenagers. Everyone was chirpy, chatting animatedly whilst they ate
their various breakfasts.

Hadrian bit into a buttered crumpet, eyes flitting to Abraxas who took the space opposite him. He
gave a nod before resuming his gaze to The Daily Prophet. There were no more pictures of
Grindelwald, just the Minister with a serious expression - a grim warning to Grindelwald that the
United Kingdom would take down the megalomaniac.

“Remember we have Astronomy tonight,” Abraxas said lightly, as he spread a layer of glossy
orange marmalade on his slice of toast.

Hadrian’s head rose. “Yes, I know. Why?”

The other boy gave a light shrug, next pouring himself some tea. “You and Tom are disappearing a
lot in the evenings. I just thought I would remind you.”

Before Hadrian could even think of a reply, they were joined by all of the other Slytherin Sixth
Year boys. He watched as Avery was directed to sit beside Abraxas, rather than his usual spot next
to him. Cassius gave him a slight frown before he busied himself with breakfast. Instead, Riddle
slid in next to him, with Silas on the other side. Sandwiched in by probably the most dangerous
Slytherins in the school. But, then again, had Lestrange actually killed anyone at this point? He
doubted it.

Hadrian had very much earned his place in Slytherin, even if Riddle was the only one who knew
what he had done.

A leg brushed against his. He jolted, aware of his magic rising at the touch. “ Can you move up?”
he hissed at Riddle.

“Why?”

“You are in my space.”Hadrian glanced at their Slytherin friends who were not openly watching,
but were not engaging in conversations amongst themselves.

Riddle was about to reply when there was a tapping at the front of the Hall. Everyone’s attention
turned to the front, where Dippet stood at the lectern. The Headmaster cleared his throat, ending
the last few conversations in the Hall.
“Good morning, students. We are nearing the end of February, and as many of you are aware,
Professor Beery has been directing one of the most famous tales of our time, ‘The Fountain of Fair
Fortune’ with our student body.” Dippet paused, allowing a smattering of applause. None from the
Slytherin table. “He has asked me to remind you all, that the play will be performed after Imbolc -
the first weekday of the old calendar. This will take place Monday afternoon, in which all of your
compulsory attendance will be required, taking place during your regular afternoon session. A great
deal of time and effort has gone into the production, and Professor Beery has assured me it will be
a performance that will go down in Hogwarts’ History. Enjoy this glorious, sunny day.”

Hadrian watched as Dippet left the lectern. There had never been any plays performed in his time
at Hogwarts. Had he ever watched one? Back in Primary school, each year there was a production
of some kind of tale but he had never been part of one. Only the compulsory Year Three Nativity
where he had played a donkey. That had been the year Lucy Sawyer had dropped baby Jesus on the
stage and the angel Gabriel had stepped on its plastic head.

“I heard that Jean Cattermole has been seen disappearing into a broom cupboard with that
Ravenclaw playing Sir Luckless,” Dorian muttered, after he took a swig of his pumpkin juice.

“I thought he was with Orla Creevey?” Antonin said.

Dorian grinned. “He is.”

Silas made a disgusted noise. “How? He looks like his mother slept with a toad.”

“Actors.” Cassius shrugged. “Women love them.”

Hadrian saw that Riddle had made some distance between them, although his magic was aware the
other boy was close. His skin was prickling with the restlessness of his core. Emerald eyes
flickered up as the owls swooped in from the enchanted sky. A number dropped packages and
letters off to students. No doubt little presents of sweets, or messages of love or despair from
home.

He picked up his glass of pumpkin juice, only to jump when a creamy envelope landed in front of
him, narrowly missing his other buttered crumpet.

Who would send him a letter? His mind immediately jumped to multiple conclusions: a late letter
from Croaker explaining that he had set Hadrian up; Fleamont Potter demanding his Cloak back
after remembering Hadrian’s face and tracking him down as a student -

Hadrian quickly cut his thoughts off, as they descended into an anxious mess. He ripped it open
along the top, feeling a bit more confident as he heard Riddle speaking to Abraxas about
Astronomy. At least he would not be looking.

Pulling the thick parchment out, his stomach dropped out of his body.

Hadrian Peverell,

Our paths will cross soon. I have heard such interesting things.

Gellert Grindelwald
He swiftly folded the parchment and placed it into his pocket. His hands trembled. It entirely took
his plan and ripped it to shreds. Hadrian had bargained on the next year, maybe the year after, of
being strong enough to make some kind of play against Grindelwald.

It had to be before Dumbledore’s defeat of the dark wizard. 1945. Less than two years off.

But this was all wrong. Grindelwald could not make the first move. Who had told Grindelwald
about him? It could be any source in the school. And what had they relayed? The made up story of
how Grindelwald had hunted down his ‘mother’ and killed her? Or just the weight of his borrowed
name. Dippet’s stupid cover story.

“Hadrian?”

“Huh?” His head snapped up.

“Have you finished that Arithmancy essay due tomorrow?” Abraxas asked.

Hadrian blinked. “I think...wait…” He stood up. “I need some air, sorry.” His breakfast was
forgotten as he rushed out of the Hall, through the Entrance Hall and outside where he breathed in
the chilled air.

His eyes stung as he shoved his hands in his cloak pockets and strode down towards the lake. Now
he had two megalomaniacs on his tail and nowhere to hide. Grindelwald was more of a formed
danger. Riddle, he felt he could handle at the moment.

Frustration caused him to kick a pebble down the dirt track. Life was just never simple for Hadrian
Peverell or Harry Potter.

Half an hour later, he stomped back to the castle, already late for Potions. He grumbled an excuse
about feeling sick to Slughorn, who gave him a half-hearted warning. Not feeling up to any
socialising or explaining his disappearance over breakfast, he took a workbench nearest to the door
and furthest from his housemates. The letter felt like a horrible weight in his pocket.

What potion was he even making?

The instructions blurred, and didn't make any sense.

Hadrian dropped a clutch of ashwinder’s eggs into his cauldron, only seeing at the last moment he
was only supposed to add two.

There was a flash of red and the sound of cracking, before his world instantly descended into
darkness.

***

The river was dark, so dark that there was no visible life. With the strengthening of the wind, the
small, wooden bridge creaked and groaned as if making every effort to not get blown away into the
void of its surroundings.

There was nothing but the bridge and river.

Hadrian took one step on the bridge, his hand darting out to grasp one of the sides. The wood
splintered in his hand, tiny fragments burrowing into his skin like parasites. There was no pain. He
withdrew his hand and watched rivlets of blood run down to chase along the length of his arm.

Where was he?

He looked, but there was nothing around. Not even darkness. Just the bridge and the river.

Something flickered on the bridge. Three shadows, walking in front of him, to cross to the other
side. Suddenly, they vanished and something much larger stood in the middle of the bridge. It
seemed to hover between being corporeal one moment, and then not, the next. A mass of darkness,
no visible shape.

“Are you afraid to cross?” The voice was like the grinding of bones. Raw.

Hadrian placed his hand back on the wooden railing of the bridge, noting that it had changed. It
was carved into a twisted design. This time, there were no splinters. “No, I am not afraid to
cross.”

The darkness flickered. “You fear the other side of this crossing.”

Hadrian swallowed. “What is on the other side?”

“You know.” The sound that followed could have been laughter, but it sounded like broken glass.

He stared beyond the figure, and he saw nothingness. “It does not scare me.” He took one step
forward. The wood creaked underfoot.

“No? The unknown scares each and every mortal.”

Another step...then another...until he was in the middle of the bridge, right in front of the shadow.

Something brushed against his forehead. Hadrian gasped as he was hit by a feeling for the first
time, a deep chill that shot straight to his bones and set them on fire. His hand shot out to the rail,
but it had disappeared. So had the bridge. Instead he stumbled slightly before righting himself.

“You have been touched by me, but survived...just like your ancestor,” said the being. “But
something clings to you that does not belong in your new existence.” It flashed in and out of
corporeality. “You have seen such death, Harry. Why do you not fear the other side?”

Hadrian straightened his back and looked at the dark mass. “I have more important things to
fear.”

The sound of broken glass once more. “More important than me?”

He frowned. “I have responsibilities here...the opportunity to change things. To protect my loved

ones, friends and family. The only thing I fear from you, is that you take me before I am done.”

“No one is ever ‘done’, Harry Potter.”

“I know.” He sighed. “But I want to do enough. I do not fear you, because my life has always been
set out for me. I know I will die. The challenges given to me are too great to survive. Maybe then I
will be free.”

“Freedom? In my embrace?” There was a long silence, where it faded in and out before
disappearing completely. In its place was a door.
Hadrian took the handle and then tumbled into darkness.

***

His bare feet splashed in shallow puddles. He was indoors somewhere, but without a wand, he
could not light his way. Fumbling around, he finally managed to feel a wall and walk, hugging the
brickwork.

There was no pain as his foot crashed against something concrete. Stairs. He crawled up them,
until he reached a door. It easily pushed open, and a dull light exposed this new room. It was an
old living room but trashed. The sofas were torn and dusty, pushed against the sides of the room. A
rug was rolled up, and dumped next to a barren fireplace.

A lightbulb was swaying above a chair in the centre of the room. Under it, was a chair and
someone was strapped to it.

Hadrian looked down to see that there were more puddles here in the living room. His bare feet
and the edges of his grey trousers were covered with blood.

“Ready to take the offer, boy?” Croaker’s face lolled in his direction. That stupid grin was back on
his face, despite being tied up.

“You are dead.”

The Unspeakable laughed. “We will give you a nice room. A view. A visitor or two.” Blood seeped
from his ears and dripped onto the floor. As his face hit the light, Hadrian could see that some of
the man’s flesh had started to fall away from the bone, his under eyes skin sagging to reveal stark
white bone underneath.

“We will just poke and prod you a little.” Croaker cackled, throwing his head back. Some of the
man’s teeth were missing, leaving dark holes.

“You are dead,” Hadrian repeated.

“Oh yes. Dead.” The man’s head lolled back, eyes rolling a little like pendulums. “How did it
feel?”

Energy abruptly filled the room. Hadrian’s body exploded with sensation - hot and bright and
beautiful. Everything was tinged green now.

“Did it make you feel alive?” Croaker rasped.

His eyes returned to the Unspeakable, whose flesh had taken on a grey tinge against the emerald
glow. Part of his left cheek had begun to peel off, hanging off his cheekbone.

“We could have given you a room. A cupboard maybe,” Croaker uttered, that skin flapping with
each word.

Hadrian cried out as arms seized him on either side. “No!” he screamed.

The two faceless guards dragged him across the wet floor, across the living room to the staircase,
where there was a small door.
“No, please, no!” Hadrian begged.

He was thrown inside the small space and the door slammed behind him. Drawing in deep, gulping
breaths he scrambled backwards and his spine hit shelves. Something hit the ground and he knew
it was his disfigured army men.

There was movement outside the cupboard. Hadrian bent down and peered through the keyhole. In
the living room stood Vernon, Petunia, Dudley and Croaker. They stood facing the cupboard door
in a row and in unison, tilted their heads back and started to laugh.

***

What was that awful noise?

No air...no feelings…

Screaming...hands, hands holding him?

Hadrian came to. His throat was hoarse and exploded with pain as a scream exploded out of him
again. He could see the faces of the Dursleys and Croaker. They were pinning him down.

“Let me go!” he yelled, though it barely came out in a rasp.

Voices. Different from the Dursleys or Croaker. He looked around and he was no longer in the
living room. Everything was all stone and white. A familiar face hovered in his vision. Healer
Roberts.

“Hadrian?”

He allowed himself to be pushed back against his pillow. Everything refocused. Reality. He
swallowed, not wanting to close his eyes in case he was transported into the awful dreamscape he
was just in.

“Hadrian.” Healer Roberts appeared in his line of vision once more. “You are at Hogwarts, in the
Hospital Wing. Can you remember what happened to you?”

His brow furrowed. “Breakfast?”

Roberts gave one laugh though his expression was still serious. “Potions, Mr Peverell. Some
incorrectly added ingredients at the wrong time.” He sniffed, before helping Hadrian sit up, adding
another pillow behind his shoulders and neck. “You had a few head injuries. I just need to perform
a few tests.”

Hadrian blearily just watched as Roberts waved his wand and did his various tests. His head
thumped slightly. When he closed his eyes, fingers clicked, jolting them open once more.

“No sleeping yet, Mr Peverell. It is good to keep awake for a while.” Healer Roberts started to jolt
some things down on his parchment. “I need to go over a few more things in my Office and we
need to keep you in for monitoring.”

He tried to move, but pain shot through his head. “I don’t want to sleep again.”
Soft, brown eyes looked at him thoughtfully. “Bad dreams?”

Hadrian looked away, trying not to think about where his brain had taken him. However, it was in
vain. He was drawn back to that river, with the dark entity - Death. Had it been real? Could Death
really visit him inside his dreams, or was it some kind of horrible subconscious fear? Either way, it
was terrifying. He couldn’t banish that bone-on-bone sound of its voice. If it had been real, he had
to move fast with his plans, just in case the Being became too curious about Hadrian’s existence
and decided to get rid of him.

“Well, you have been asleep for a day.” Healer Roberts pocketed his wand. “I would advise that
you keep awake so we can monitor your pain levels. You had a nasty gash on the back of your
skull I managed to heal, but your time unconscious does concern me.”

Hadrian grimaced. Tomorrow was Imbolc, and he was curious about the ritual, especially after the
Samhain one. No doubt Riddle would also be pissed that Hadrian had kept him waiting for his next
memory of the future. “If I am alright, can I leave tonight?”

“No. Tomorrow morning will be the earliest opportunity for you to leave.” Croaker took the
floating parchment in his hand. “There is another thing I was actually meaning to go through with
you. In my diagnostics of you, there seems to be some residual dark magic around your curse scar.
Are you aware of this?”

His emerald eyes fixed onto the Healer. “Headmaster Dippet knows about that,” he replied.

“I was wondering-”

“No.” Hadrian closed his eyes and sunk back into the pillow. “I will not be prodded. Nothing can
be done. Speak to Dippet.”

Roberts drew in a slight breath before turning and walking across the Medical Wing to his Office.

Hadrian bathed in the silence. When he opened his eyes, he saw that he was the only patient. He
shifted up on the pillows, wincing at the shards of pain lodged in the back of his skull. His fingers
drifted over the area but he did not dare touch it. A head injury. All because of his negligence and
his inability to deal with his emotions in a healthier way. But how did someone ‘deal’ with the idea
that a different Dark wizard (Lord?) was now targeting him? Dealing with both Tom Riddle and
Gellert Grindelwald would be impossible. What he needed was to make sure that it was
Grindelwald who had the item he wanted.

An hour passed of Hadrian mulling over his current predicament, before the door to the Hospital
Wing opened and a familiar blonde strode in like he owned the place. Abraxas held a small pile of
books under his arm.

“You are awake,” Malfoy stated as he walked over; a small smile touched the corner of his mouth.

“Barely,” Hadrian grumbled.

“I thought Healer Roberts would probably keep you in for a while, because of your head injury. It
was pretty grim to look at.” Abraxas pulled up a chair. “Tom had the idea to put pressure on the
wound, as you were pouring blood, whilst waiting for help. Though you may owe him a new
scarf.”

Hadrian blinked as his brain stopped. Riddle used his scarf to stem the flow? Of course, the
Slytherin wouldn’t want Hadrian dying on him when he had important information that was
‘owed’.
“Slughorn was next to useless, but you know him.” Pale fingers skimmed the books on his lap.
“You missed a bit of work, so I brought it here for you.”

“Great. Thanks.” Hadrian moved, but he hissed at the thunder strike of pain. He fell back against
the pillows.

“Just rest,” Abraxas said softly. “You seemed a bit out of sorts yesterday morning. Was something
delivered to you? A message from a family member?”

He chewed on his bottom lip before his eyes darted around, trying to see where his clothes were.
“My cloak? Where is it?”

“Tom put your clothes in the dormitory.”

His stomach flipped, brain short-circuiting. Riddle was not an idiot. He would have logged that
Hadrian had a letter delivered, and whatever it was - had spurred Hadrian to be an idiot. Now, he
had to deal with the potential of Riddle knowing he had received a letter from Grindelwald.

“Do you want me to leave?”

He looked at Abraxas, forcing his breathing to regulate. “No, sorry.”

Healer Roberts swept out of his office, holding a potion in his hand. He cast a look at Abraxas
before uncorking the vial and handing it to Hadrian. “This should reduce the pain, but it may make
you tired. Mr Malfoy, if you could keep him distracted until lunch time, that should suffice. I
understand you are on a free period?”

“Yes, Sir.” Abraxas opened a textbook. “So, Hadrian, let me catch you up on Arithmancy.”

Hadrian gulped down the bitter potion, before handing back the vial to Roberts, who took his leave
once more. “Arithmancy, really? Do you want me to fall asleep?”

Malfoy arched an eyebrow up at him. “What do you suggest?”

“Wizard’s chess?”

Abraxas closed the book with a smack. “Fine, but you will regret it”
 Chapter 23
Chapter Notes

Went on a writing spree today! Enjoy a very early chapter, as I have a busy week
ahead!

Let me know what you think, as your lovely comments do help!

Tendrils of the moonlight crept through the thick bodies of the trees, outlining twisted silhouettes.
There was a layer of mist along the floor of the forest, almost like ghostly embers or low-hanging
smoke. It was exactly how it had looked during his detention during his First Year. In fact, if he
concentrated hard enough, he could still hear Fang’s whines and snorts, alongside Draco Malfoy’s
moaning about the unfairness of the situation.

He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, burying his chin within its emerald folds. It no
longer smelt of Cassius, and part of him was glad. He was not in the mood to be a prisoner of his
hormones.

His fingers fluttered up to his head, which was pretty much healed, after another night spent under
observation. Healer Roberts had let him go after dinner, after he had seen Hadrian eat all of his
food and demonstrate no pain. There were twinges of pain when he moved his neck too much, but
that was it.

There were voices in the distance and a flicker of light ahead. Abraxas had filled him in on the
location, in case he could make it. The youngest Malfoy was also the only visitor he had in the two
days. Whenever he enquired about anyone else, Abraxas would change the subject. It had grated on
his nerves, but he knew what was in the way, or who was in the way - Riddle.

The limbs of the trees jutted out of the fleshy soil, almost as if they were trying to claw their way
out of the dirt and escape. A howl floated up in the night sky, but it was followed by silence. It was
always silent. A silence that was completely unnatural in a place that should be infested with life.

Hadrian could see people moving ahead - with a fire lit. Someone bent down to poke at the base,
causing the flames to flare, before rejoining the circle that was forming of the Slytherins. As he
approached, he was surprised to see a few of the girls there as well - Adelia Greengrass, Druella
Lazenby and Slyvia Selwyn.

His eyes immediately connected with Riddle’s. The other boy’s face was utterly passive, although
his eyes glowed red in the fire.

“Hadrian!” Adelia’s face lit up as she saw him enter the small clearing. She walked over and gave
him a hug. The girl was soft, her curves pressing into him and the smell of raspberries floated up
into his nose.

“Hello, Adelia,” he replied, a small smile touching his mouth as he drew away. He had never been
a hugging kind of person. Hermione had given him a few over time, but they were very rare also.
That, combined with growing up with little to no physical contact with the Dursleys, made him
self-conscious. Cassius was the only person he felt comfortable touching.
“How is your head? It looked so bad, I thought I would faint,” Adelia asked.

“Fine.” He looked up at the circle of people, who were gathered around a makeshift altar made of
twigs and sticks - a silver chalice floating above it. There were a range of red and white flowers -
freshly gathered by the look of them - laid at the base of the altar. Candles floated in the air, all
around - just like they did in the Great Hall.

Adelia took his arm, and led him over to the circle. This time, Riddle did not direct him to stand
anywhere in particular but he felt his heavy gaze upon him. Adelia took his hand on one side, and
Abraxas the other.

Once more, it felt odd to have people’s hands in his - so warm and soft.

Luckily, Abraxas had spent time yesterday also guiding him through the chant needed for the
ritual, as well as what to expect. He was grateful to the boy. It made him wonder a lot whether
things could ever have been different between Draco and him. He offered a smile to Abraxas when
those cool blue eyes slid his way, and the Slytherin gave a small nod back.

“Fire Goddess - Brighid, daughter of Dagda - we have gathered here to bask in your glory,” Riddle
began.

“Today is Imbolc - midwinter - and the frost has begun to thaw,” everyone said in unison. “The
days grow longer once more as your womb births fire unto the lands, fire to chase away the
darkness.”

Hadrian felt his core bloom inside of him, and just managed to keep focused enough to reign it in
as much as he could. There could not be a repeat of their last ritual. He watched as Slyvia broke the
circle to walk over to the thick, crimson candle underneath the floating chalice. When she returned,
the chant continued:

“As the sacred flame is lit, our Goddess returns to our Earth and to our homes to bless us with her
life.” His hands sparked as he felt the chorus of their magic start to sing between their bodies,
moving like a summer breeze through them. “Bless us, bless us with your power of birth and
fertility as the Earth grows with your life. Imbolc is the season of new life, and a season to
celebrate your nurturing warmth, although forever you remain in our hearts.”

Hadrian’s breath caught in the back of his throat as he felt warm spread across his cheek, like a
mother’s soft caress. A mother’s touch that he seemed to remember from when he was a baby, of
laughter and warmth...and love. His eyes stung, half expecting to see the mother he had only seen
in pictures or in the Mirror of Erised.

His magic fluttered. Not the storm of magic like Samhain, but much softer. It felt like home.

Their hands untangled one by one as a goblet was passed along the circle. When it came to
Hadrian, he looked briefly into its milky depths before holding it up the moon. He then took a
small sip, before handing it over to Abraxas.

When it ended up back in Riddle’s hands, he offered the chalice to the moon, saying: “May Brighid
give us her blessings.” He took a sip and then placed it on the floor at his feet. “We now offer her
warmth, as her children.”

Slyvia was first, breaking the circle to light a smaller candle with her wand that circled around the
larger, red candle. “As your child, I share my warmth. Bless my family with the warmth of your
embrace, and your power of life.”
One by one, the blessing was repeated as each Slytherin in turn lit a candle. Hadrian did not use his
wand, cupping the wick in his palm to ignite the candle before uttering his blessing. Of course, he
wasn’t expecting any children and neither did he particularly want any but he understood that it
was also to share his magic in the blessings, to aid his classmates and their families.

After all the candles were lit, they all stood there holding hands, and silently watched the candles
flicker and burn. Magic imbued the air, and Hadrian gaze flickered to movements in the forest
around them. His throat dried as he saw all manner of creatures approach, but not with malice.
Instead, they seemed to be bathing in the magic. A group of centaurs had knelt down, faces
upturned to the moon. A glimmer of silver in his peripheral vision revealed a family of unicorns
behind Adelia. But what got his attention was a thestral. A single one, which stood behind Riddle
and stared at Hadrian.

It made him wonder how many of the Slytherins around him would be able to see it, how many of
them would have seen death in the midst of the two wars - muggle and wizard.

Despite the coldness of the air, his body felt warm and he allowed himself just to bask in the magic
and embrace of the Goddess in which they had summoned. Then, a long time later, when the moon
was high in the sky, they started to disband and drift back to the castle - seeking out their beds.

***

The smell of chocolate and sugar invaded his senses as he emerged inside Honeydukes. It was
devoid of customers, as it was dead on opening time. He peered around a stack of barrels, seeing
the shop owner disappearing into his office space behind the counter. Making his move, Hadrian
swept through the shop and out of the door.

He apparated on the spot.

When he reappeared, his stomach lurched and he instantly vomited all over the cobblestones and
the wall. Hadrian wiped his mouth on his sleeve, as his hand was shaking too much, before
checking over his body. What he had just done was highly illegal. Apparating with no license and
no doubt breaking some International Laws also. But this was important.

He grimaced at the puddle of bile, although was pleased to feel that his magic had withstood the
travel needed. Abraxas had been more than happy to talk to him about Gregovoritch - the famous
wandmaker - whilst he had been bedbound. Malfoy had made another stop at his bedside in the
evening after lessons, whilst he was in the Hospital Wing. Apparently, Abraxas’ father had his
wand from Gregovoritch’s shop in Sophia, which was hidden away in the Bulgarian-equivalent of
Diagon Alley. He was one of the only European wandmakers that rivalled Olivander. According to
Abraxas, the Bulgarian was trading again in his old place.

Hadrian was glad he had appeared in a side-alley, away from view. He vanished the pile of vomit
before emerging onto the street. There were flurries of wizards and witches about the square
already, but he had to remind himself that it was two hours ahead.

He took a look around the shop fronts, stopping by a Quidditch shop that had a new broom on
display. His magic still felt warm and strong after the Imbolc ritual last night. None of them had
really spoken after the event, deciding to go to bed straight away. Hadrian had gotten up very early,
made a trip to the house elves’ kitchen - where they had all been been shocked and horrified.
However, with a few words, they had been stumbling over themselves to feed him. Then he made
his way to Hogsmeade.

Gregovoritch’s shop was tucked away in a private alleyway just off the square, next to a large
bookshop, that was not hard to track down.

He walked up to the dark wandmaker’s. The outside was very grim, all dark - almost charred
looked - wooden exterior and blacked out windows. He cast a quick glamour on his scar before
going to the door and letting himself inside.

It was dimly lit, a few candles scattered around shelves but no natural light. A few wands were on
display in glass cases, more ornately designed than he had ever seen in Ollivanders. There was no
one else in the shop, and he used the time to check out the selection. One in particular caught his
eye, the handle of the wand carved into something that resembled a rapier.

A voice broke his thoughts, as a man appeared behind the counter.

“English?” Hadrian asked. His eyes scanned the white haired man.

“Yes,” came the curt reply. “What brings an English boy to my shop?” His eyes could have been
any colour, but they were shadowed in the lightning. However, the silver-white hair gleamed, left
scraggly over his shoulders where it appeared to merge with a full, busy beard.

“I have come looking for a wand.”

“I have a selection.”

“No, a particular wand.” Hadrian faced the older man, resting his hip against the side of the tall
cabinet that held the rapier-wand.

Gregorovitch let out a gruff scoff. “I sell only wand that suits you. You are too old for first wand,”
he replied in broken English.

“I am after the Elder Wand.”

Silence stretched between them. The wandmaker’s face flushed, his mouth twisting.

“Get out of my shop.”

Hadrian tilted his head to the side. “No. Not until I have the information I need. Grindelwald has it,
doesn’t he?”

Gregorovitch sneered. “Do not dare say that name in my shop.”

“I just did. Look, I saw a picture of him with what I presumed to be the Elder Wand,” Hadrian
explained. “Last I heard, you had it.”

“The Elder Wand is mere fairytale, little boy.”

He gave a tight smile. “Deny it all you want, but I know the truth. All I need is confirmation that
Grindelwald has it.”

The look he received was piercing. “What do you want with it?”

Hadrian just looked back. “I want to be the Master of Death.”

This time, Gregorovitch threw his head back and laughed. There was a brittle quality to it. “Go
home, little boy. How many have tried and failed? Let me save you the journey.”

“I have one already.” Hadrian remained impassive.

His words caused the humour to drop from the wandmaker’s face. “You lie.”

“No, I do have it, I assure you. A cloak to protect against Death...ever-lasting, rumoured to be cut
from Death’s robes. It even deflects some spells but it is generally good for sneaking. The same
Cloak has been passed through my family for generations.” He paused to tap his finger against the
glass of the display case. “And, I have a suspicion about where I can find the last one. The Stone.

Gregorovitch hissed through his teeth. “It does not matter. Grindelwald is too powerful for you to
take the Elder Wand.”

Hadrian smiled. Bingo. “No one is too powerful.” He paused. “How did he get it off you? A
duel?”

“He stole it from me, whilst I slept.”

His eyebrows flew up. “You allowed that to happen?” He did not listen to the man’s interjections,
but simply reviewed over the information he knew about the wand. “Wait - he did not disarm you?
But he wields its power with success.” He paced down to the blacked out window. “Which means
to steal the wand, still classes as a defeat...in the wand’s view...he overpowered you by leaving
your wandless.”

Gregorovitch gripped the counter. “Who are you?”

“It does not matter. I know he has the wand now.” Hadrian turned on his heel. “Goodbye,
Gregorovitch.”

“Wait!”

Hadrian paused but did not reply. He could have left at that moment, but there was something
about the way the wandmaker uttered the word.

“That man stole something from me. I wish for revenge.”

He turned.

Gregorovitch was standing at the counter, looking unsure of himself.

Hadrian tilted his head to the side. “If you wish for revenge, then you could help me further.” That
got the man’s attention, those shadowed eyes widening. “You experimented on the Elder Wand, of
course you did. You know its power. I want to explore it when I get it, but I tire of a wand. It seems
odd to put all your efforts into it, especially such a vulnerable thing. Could you point me in the
direction of exploring wandless magic at a higher level?”

“The Elder Wand could help you reach those heights.”

His mouth twisted in a dark smile. “And if the wand is destroyed, a wizard is rendered useless?”

“The Elder Wand can heal other wands.”

Hadrian stored that information away. “So, you are saying that wandless magic will never reach
the heights that the Elder Wand could take you?”
Gregorovitch frowned and a hand came up to stroke his bushy beard. “Old magic could take you
there, but it is strictly forbidden. Ritual magic, blood magic...the like.”

He hummed. “Thank you, Gregorovitch.” Hadrian winked. “I will let you know how I get on.”
With that, he turned once more and left the shop.

Not wanting to spend more time than was necessary in Bulgaria, he took himself to the end of the
alley and apparated back to Hogsmeade. He vomited once he appeared at the back of the Shrieking
Shack. This time, his head swam a little and he needed to sit down in the overgrown grass to get his
bearings. The sun had made its way out of the grey clouds, and he turned his face up to its rays and
basked in the warmth. It just proved that he needed to practice his long distance apparition more.
No doubt he would get many opportunities if Grindelwald really wanted to hunt him down.

Hadrian put his hands in his cloak pockets, gathering it together to shield his body against the chilly
breeze. His pockets were empty. The note from Grindelwald - gone.

Half an hour later, he made his way back to Hogwarts through the Honeydukes passage, so he
could avoid the signing in/out register they usually kept. In the space of a few months at Hogwarts,
he had probably broken as many rules as he did in the years he had spent in the future school. Most
of his recent ‘rule breaking’ was more serious than he could have ever imagined. But part of him
questioned the wrongness of the death of Croaker. The Unspeakable was going to lock Hadrian
away, for something he had no control over. It was not as if he had begged Hogwarts to send him
back to the past. Also, had Dumbledore not trained him or was training him to kill Voldemort?
Voldemort would never drop down dead all by himself. The blood would be on Harry’s hands. No
one else’s.

Back in the castle, he headed for the bathroom to clean his face and gargle some water before
heading to the common room to rest for a while. What he was not expecting, was to see Lestrange
there, sitting by himself looking utterly bored with a book in his hands.

His dark gaze flickered to Hadrian as he entered. “Hadrian! We looked all over for you.”

Hadrian’s eyebrows rose. “You did? I was just walking the grounds.” He scratched his head. “I just
couldn’t sleep. I had a lot of it the last few days.”

Lestrange stared at him before closing the book, placing it on his lap. “Professor Slughorn wants to
see you in his office.” He stood up and closed the distance between them. “He is going to make
you an offer. It is an important offer...so do not refuse it. A lot of us have the advantage of wealthy
families and careers mapped out for us.” His voice lowered, words only for Hadrian’s ears.

“What offer?”

“Attending a function, with some very important people. Look, I am telling you this because I have
felt your magic...your power. I put in a word to Slughorn, and he values the influence my family
has. Just don’t tell Tom that I was the one who suggested you. He will kill me. I don’t think he
wants you to go.”

He frowned. “Thanks, Silas. I won’t say a word, but why does Tom not want me to go?”

Silas sighed. “I don’t know. He has been acting strange since you had that injury.” He paused,
worrying his bottom lip through his teeth. “This is not my place either, but you have been a good
influence on Tom. He likes you. Just, he won’t admit that.”

Hadrian scoffed quietly. “Tom does not like people.”

“I have known him for almost seven years now. He respects you.” Silas patted him on the shoulder
before leaving the common room.

He pressed his fingers into his eyeballs, so glad he did not have to bother with his glasses any
longer. Off to see Slughorn he goes...
 Chapter 24
Chapter Notes

Sorry this is so late, I have been so busy. But I think this should be worth the
wait...hopefully!

Thank you for all your lovely comments!

He should have seen it coming. Riddle cornered him after breakfast as everyone else left to finish
their studies or relax after another busy week. A hand had slid under his elbow, drawing him over
to the side of the steady stream of pupils leaving the Great Hall.

“Let’s go,” Riddle said, releasing his limb to start walking down the corridor towards the
staircases.

Hadrian frowned. He had been planning to head to the Chamber to do some research anyway, but
he had not quite got his mind focused on drawing out any more memories for Riddle to explore.
Tugging a hand through his haphazard hair, he followed after the tall and willowy figure.

Yesterday, he had met with Slughorn. It had been a quick meeting; Slughorn invited him to a
Ministry function. The man had told him that it would be good for orphans such as himself to
mingle with great minds, to see what careers were on offer, but also to start making connections.
When asked who else was attending, Slughorn revealed that he would only be taking Tom Riddle
and him. He had permission from Dippet. Silas’ words had mulled over in his head for a while,
until he confirmed that he would go.

When he joined Riddle on the moving staircase, he looked up at the other boy’s pale face. It was
turned forward, expressionless. “Thank you.”

Cinnamon eyes widened fractionally, but enough for him to see it. “What are you talking about?”

“My head.” His fingers fluttered up to the back of his skull, where no pain lingered anymore.
“Abraxas said you stopped the blood. I owe you a scarf.”

Riddle was quiet for a long moment, before the staircase connected and they moved up. “I could
not have you impaired. Otherwise, you could not uphold your end of our deal.”

Despite knowing that this would be the answer, something inside of him sank. What did he expect
Riddle to say? That he just wanted to save Hadrian because he was...Hadrian? No, he was a key to
Riddle’s future.

They continued their silence to the Second Floor Girl’s toilets, where Myrtle looked once at
Riddle, screamed and then threw herself down a toilet with a splash. Riddle summoned the stairs,
once the entrance was open and they descended down.

There was no summoning of Una or Onyx (who were often inseparable now) and Hadrian got the
message that it was strictly business straight away. They strode up to Salazar’s library and Riddle
gestured to the chair that Hadrian usually frequented when down here. Hadrian felt his eyes harden
and his lip press into a straight line, not liking to be ordered about - but one glance at Riddle’s face
revealed that the other boy was furious about something.

With a sigh, Hadrian removed his cloak, hanging it on the back of his chair, before sitting down.
“What is it?”

Riddle walked over. “Do not move.”

Then, before he could react, there were fingers in his hair. The other Slytherin walked around him,
his fingertips pressing lightly over different parts of his scalp. It was weird. Hadrian could feel the
slight warmth of Riddle, but there was mostly a coolness to those digits. Was it the effect of the
horcrux? In the future, whenever Voldemort had touched him, all he had ever felt was burning
pain. Here, it was almost like he was being gentle? Had anyone ever touched him like this before?

“Is there any pain?”

Dark eyebrows flew up. “From my injury? No, I told you.” He pulled away from Riddle’s probing
digits.

“That was stupid and reckless of you,” Riddle commented, stepping back. His arms crossed over
his chest and he looked down at Hadrian. “I want you to see Professor Slughorn and tell him you
are not attending the Ministry Function.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“It is too dangerous.”

“Well, no one appointed you my mother, Riddle.” Before Riddle could interject, he continued,
“You are not the only orphan here. I am stuck forty years in the past, with no friends or family to
help me. No family inheritance to pave my way. Just like you, I will attend, make connections and
build on them.”

Riddle unfolded his arms, ripping out a piece of parchment from his pocket. “This is why you will
not attend,” he hissed.

Hadrian schooled his expression. “You had no business taking that from me.”

“You almost killed yourself over this.” Those cinnamon eyes were dark and alive with fury.

“Well, if I show you everything before the Function, then you won’t have to worry about me, will
you? You will have what you want.”

Riddle threw the parchment onto his lap. “Fine, have it your way, Harry.”

Hadrian’s stomach flopped at the name but he gathered the note from Grindelwald and shoved it
into his hanging cloak. Besides, he was never going to admit to Riddle, but he was hoping that
Grindelwald would make an appearance. It meant he could potentially get his hands on the Elder
Wand. Learning that stealing the wand could possibly count as ‘winning’ it over, had changed
things a little in his mind.

“Well, we should get those memories from that head of yours before you act like a total
Gryffindor.” Riddle went over to the cabinet where the pensive was kept. “I do not understand why
or how the Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes. “Yeah because talking to snakes and lying about my entire identity is a real
Gryffindor trait.” He grinned at the dark look the other boy shot him before he got to his feet and
started to look at the shelves.

“What are you looking for?”

“Spells.” Hadrian skimmed the old spines with his finger as he walked past them. “Powerful ones.
Might as well make use of this time whilst you are in the pensive.”

There was a slight ‘thunk’ as Riddle placed the bowl down on the table and then the sound of
footsteps coming his way. The dark, rich and spicy scent that was unmistakably Riddle followed.
Hadrian tried not to inhale it as the Heir of Slytherin came close to him, or look at the other, taller
boy. He could still feel the fingers on his scalp.

“This one.” Riddle plucked a slim book from the top shelf of the lower bookcases that Hadrian
stood at. “Though, it may be a bit too dark for you.”

Hadrian’s upper lip curled as he snatched the book from Riddle’s hand and stormed back to the
table. He sat down and stared at the pensive. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to grasp the
next memory that he would place inside the bowl. This one was more vivid than the ones before,
and not because it was more recent than his Second and Third Years. He could still remember the
smell of the damp grass in the graveyard and feel the piercing, hot pain of the knife slicing into his
arm. And Cedric...just laying there…

He pressed his wand to his temple and drew out the shimmering memory - the strand brighter than
the ones prior. Dipping it into the pensive, he watched it merge with the liquid before he settled
back down into his chair.

“Riddle.”

His words stopped the other boy in his tracks, as Riddle immediately moved over to the bowl.

Hadrian averted his eyes, stomach leaping up to nestle at the base of his throat. “It gets...a bit more
serious now.”

There was a tightening around cinnamon eyes before Riddle sunk his head into the pensive.

Hadrian’s mind had been racing, going through the events religiously. He had decided to show
Riddle the Third Challenge of the Triwizard Tournament, the graveyard and then the immediate
fallout of Moody’s identity. However, it was less of the events that were bothering him, but what
Riddle would do with all of that information. Hadrian had studied the book, taking notes on some
parchment that was on Riddle’s side of the table. They were pretty dark spells - all in parseltongue -
with one that would boil the blood in someone’s veins and another that would release a plume of
black smoke that would allow someone to evade detection. The latter reminded him of one of the
Weasley Twins’ infamous inventions. Of course, these kind of spells would have horrified
Hermione.

Then, he had slammed the book shut after that thought had crossed his mind. The expectation he
should go up against Voldemort - the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time - without any actual
training was ridiculous. It made him cringe now to remember Christmas at the Weasley’s, where
Scrimgeour had called him ‘Dumbledore’s man’ and Harry had confirmed it. The only ‘training’
Dumbledore had given him were the memories about Horcruxes. No extra lessons on protecting
himself or attacking. There were those ‘lessons’ with Snape that had ended terribly the year
before…

Instead, it had been up to him to set up the DA and teach his peers.
All of those thoughts swirled in his mind for the three hours Riddle was submerged, until he rose.
Hadrian could not even look at the other boy, just staring at the plain black cover of the spellbook.

The silence went on for a while. Neither boy moved. Neither of them knew how much time
passed.

“Can I see your arm?”

Hadrian jolted ever so slightly at the words that broke the silence. He swallowed, unbuttoning his
shirt sleeve, knowing what arm the other boy was referring to. Rolling it up, he offered it out
between them. His jaw clenched and his eyes flew up when cool fingers gently traced the jagged
white line that travelled down his forearm. Hadrian swallowed as his scar flickered to life,
warming.

Riddle turned his arm over but then paused. “What is that?”

Emerald eyes flickered up and then down to where the other boy was looking. His hand. ‘ I must
not tell lies ’ scrawled in his own handwriting, branding his skin. “Nothing.” He tried to drag it
away, but Riddle grasped his arm, holding him in place.

“A blood quill?”

“It’s nothing to do with you.”

“Hadrian.”

“A Professor did it,” he bit out. “A Ministry woman. Stripped out all the practical exercises from
Defense, and had us reading books. I challenged her, said it would not prepare us for Voldemort.
Detention was her answer.”

“With a blood quill?” Riddle released his arm and stepped back, giving him space. His face was
unreadable. “You were older in this memory.”

Hadrian felt too vulnerable sitting down in front of him, so he stood up and walked over to the large
window that overlooked the main Chamber, keeping half-turned towards the other boy. “It was my
Fourth Year, just before I turned fifteen. Nothing happened in my Third Year.”

“I did not realise you were this deeply in, Hadrian.” Riddle still stood in exactly the same place,
like a statue. “You truly are my enemy in the future. Your very blood flows through my future
veins...a key to my resurrection...our wands ‘brothers’... A war you fight with Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore’s man . His throat tightened.

“Dumbledore puts a boy, time and time again, in front of a Dark Lord.”

Hadrian’s eyes rose, burning. “And I win, every time, Riddle.”

“But here you are.”

Those words stopped his train of thought completely and his mouth opened slightly at the look that
Riddle gave him. “What?”

Long fingers curled around the top of Hadrian’s chair, where his cloak rested. “What do you really
want to achieve by doing this, Hadrian? You could have come here, in the past, to position yourself
as my enemy...instead you join us in our rituals and have embedded in with my Followers. You
could have approached Dumbledore, shown him what I am capable of...what I become. But you
did not.”

Hadrian tore his eyes away. “I do not know.” He stared down at the Chamber, eyes etching each
rune to memory that encircled the middle of the open space.

He gasped as a hand took his shoulder, not even hearing Riddle move. “I know why,” Riddle
whispered in his ear. “You are curious by the darkness that lurks in you. Dumbledore’s man is not
as Light as is thought.”

Hadrian tried to move, twist out of that hand, but it pushed harder. Riddle’s weight shifted so that
he pinned Hadrian’s front against the glass window, the Heir of Slytherin’s body pressed against
his back.

“No,” he breathed, fogging up the glass. His forehead was flush against the cold surface, but his
body was warm. Through his mind, flitted the unwanted image of Riddle in the classroom with that
Seventh Year Ravenclaw on his knees...a pale hand knitted through dark hair.

“No?” Riddle purred in his ear. “I watched you kill that man Hadrian, the Unspeakable. I felt your
magic. You told me that it felt like a whirlpool. You should have felt the magic in the
room...sublime. I have never felt anything like it.”

Hadrian stiffened and his senses zeroed in on the strong planes of Riddle’s body pressed against
his.

“Then, during our meeting the other evening...you start thinking about sex with Lord Voldemort.”
Riddle chuckled at Hadrian’s angry retorts. “But then I realise...the dreams...the thoughts. We truly
are joined.”

The pressure at his back lightened, and Hadrian spun around, only to gasp again as hands grabbed
his and pinned them above his head - pinning him against the glass. His eyes were wide as his
breath stopped at the hungry look that was etched into every inch of the Slytherin’s face.

He had expected anger or disappointment from Riddle at the memories...but not this. Whatever
‘this’ was.

“Let me go.” Hadrian struggled against the hands that pinned him down, but Riddle was taller than
him and had surprising strength.

The Heir of Slytherin smiled before removing his hands.

Hadrian breathed in relief but then realised that his own hands were not moving from the glass
above his head. Wandless magic? His emerald eyes flamed. “Riddle,” he seethed.

“Now, now, Hadrian...you made a deal with me. I want to explore this magic further...and you
swore.”

“This is not what I meant!”

That infuriating smile grew. “You did not specify any details...and neither did I.” Riddle’s fingers
took Hadrian’s chin whilst the other hand drifted up to his scar.

Hadrian released a hiss when a finger pressed gently down on the centre of his forehead, right in
the middle of the lightning bolt. Warmth and need raced through his body at the touch, as if his
magic was trying to explode out of the skin and merge with Riddle. He did not want to open his
eyes, scared about what he would see.

“In the future...this causes you immense pain. I could almost taste it in your memory...but now.”
Riddle’s body moved - flush against his. “What do you feel , Hadrian?”

He was silent, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to think about anything other than Riddle.

“A deal is a deal, Hadrian.”

“Not pain,” he ground out.

“No?” Riddle’s voice was honey, dripping into Hadrian’s veins and liquifying them. “You see, the
other day when Dumbledore almost stumbled upon us...we diverted his attention. Your magic
rose...such a sweet taste on your lips.”

Something soft brushed against his mouth.

“I had to battle you back. Use my magic to quell yours, as not to raise Dumbledore’s suspicion.”
Riddle’s voice was a low whisper, a soft breath on the smaller Slytherin’s lips. “Did you know that
your scar is the same shape as the wand’s movement for Avada Kedavra?”

Emerald eyes opened and he drowned in the brown-red ones that were level with his. The hands at
his face had disappeared at some point, but his magic continued to bask in the other boy’s
presence. Riddle’s face was so close...his mouth hovering over his.

“I have a suspicion about us,” Riddle breathed. “About you. An impossible one. But from what I
see from your memories...you are a man of impossible nature.” He blinked, eyes skimming down
Hadrian’s still form as he drew away slightly.

“Let me go, Riddle,” Hadrian uttered, though his voice had lost its power it had at the beginning.
Standing here, exposed in front of Riddle made him feel terrified...but mixed in with that was
something else. Something he did not want to dwell on.

“Tom.”

“What?”

“I want you to call me Tom, from now onwards. Promise that, and I will release your hands.”

Hadrian frowned. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters.”

He snorted lightly. “Well, don’t think you can tie me up again and ask me to call you my ‘Lord.”

Those cinnamon eyes gleamed. “Is that an offer, Hadrian?”

“Fuck you, Tom .”

Hadrian let out a muffled sound as Riddle’s lips crashed down onto his. He tugged at the invisible
restraints, but the other Slytherin’s body moulded to his once again and pinned him to the glass. A
tongue darted in as he gave a silent protest, and slid against his. This time, a different sound
emerged from his chest as Riddle’s magic rose to greet his. It was dark, enticing as it seemed to
coax more whimpers from him.

The kiss deepened as one of Tom’s hands came up and tugged Hadrian’s head back by the hair.
The Heir of Slytherin swallowed the delightful noises he elicited from the smaller male before
tearing his mouth away.

Hadrian moaned through the onslaught of their battling magic as he felt kisses, hot and hungry
against the pale column of his neck. As his senses started to regain, he began to move, trying to
move away from the sensations. However, Riddle’s mouth seized his again and his world exploded
into pleasure once more.

Hips rolled against his, a hardness pressing against his stomach.

“Riddle,” he gasped, ripping his mouth away.

“Tom.” His mouth descended onto Hadrian’s neck again, nipping and sucking the skin.

Hadrian swore, his head falling back against the glass. “Tom,” he hissed. Their magic danced
between them, dark and intoxicating, pulling him further down into the abyss. Before he was
utterly submerged, Hadrian tore his neck away. “No. Let me go!”

Tom withdrew from his neck and for the first time since their encounter started, Hadrian drank in
the other boy’s appearance. His dark hair was still immaculate, the waves and curl dangling down
his forehead. Those eyes were ablaze, and mouth reddened by their kissing. He was not unaffected
by this.

“I can’t do this,” Hadrian breathed.

Cinnamon eyes searched his before Riddle whisked away. Hadrian swallowed as his arms fell
down, released. They felt light, weightless almost.

“What was that?” he asked, watching the other Slytherin sit down in his usual place at the table.
Hadrian shifted, aware of the tightening in his trousers and his cheeks flamed with colour as he
quickly made his way over to his chair.

Tom’s eyes flickered to his neck before meeting his. “I was just curious.”

“Curious?” Hadrian sat. “Curious? This is not a game, Riddle.”

The corner of Riddle’s mouth twitched. “Have you forgotten our deal already?”

“What were you so curious over?” he hissed out, ignoring the other boy’s words.

Riddle fiddled with a strange object on the desk that he often used as a paperweight, a metal
structure with a crystal inside. “Why did you want to stop?”

“I am the one asking the questions.”

“Humour me.”

Hadrian’s hands curled into fists on the lacquered surface of the large table, glad there was a
sizeable distance between them. Why did he ask Riddle to stop? There were a myriad of good
reasons. Sitting opposite was the man who would go on to kill his parents, all because of a stupid
prophecy. There was nothing to suggest that anything he had showed Riddle, had changed his
perspective. And Hadrian did not want to be used. Everything was a deal or manipulation.

“My emotions are not a game,” he could only utter.

Riddle was quiet for a while. “We should discuss that memory, Hadrian. There is much to go
over.” He placed the object down onto the table. “That...thing was what I become.”

Even though it was a statement more than a question, Hadrian decided to respond: “Yes. That is
Lord Voldemort as everyone knows. Feared by all, even his Followers.”

“You speak about him, as if he is separate from me.”

Hadrian gave a hollow laugh. “Because he is. Sometimes it is hard to see how you end up that way,
and sometimes it is too easy. You saw in the graveyard how your Followers had abandoned you.
You rule everyone by fear, not by how you currently rule the Slytherins.”

Tom tilted his head to the side fractionally. “What do you suspect is the root of the change?”

“Your horcruxes, tearing your soul apart may be a starting point,” Hadrian responded sarcastically.
“You seem sane now; you have one or two horcruxes. I don’t even know your future ideology, or
your current one for that matter. It all gets lost in the ‘let’s just kill everyone who does not perform
Dark magic and anyone who is a Muggle sympathiser’.”

This time, the silence was thick and heavy between them. Hadrian’s lips still ached from the kiss,
and his gut twisted from the memory of the encounter. It raced through his mind even though he
tried to keep his attention on the current strand of conversation. Riddle had evaded giving a reason
for doing so. Nevertheless, Hadrian knew that he was not going to get pulled into any games
involving his emotions. But the thing that had him more confused was the idea that Riddle had
made a deal with him, so that Hadrian could challenge his views and ideology, without a Crucio to
fire up his nervous system for doing so.

“My ideology…” Tom trailed off before sighing.

“I know you want to become a Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, but it always confused me
why.”

There was a strange expression on Riddle’s face. “Why does that confuse you?”

Hadrian shrugged. “It seems so mediocre with your magical ability. You have a group of Followers
already who worship the ground you stand on and you want to give that up for teaching?”

Riddle tapped the table with a finger. “You are an orphan too, Hadrian. Sometimes you struggle to
leave somewhere you feel...comfortable.”

His stomach flopped at the admission. Was Riddle saying that he viewed Hogwarts as much as a
home as he did? Every layer he managed to peel off the Slytherin, he was greeted by surprises.
This was not the Tom Riddle he was expecting at all.

“I understand.”

“My ideology is simple. I want to bring back our old wizarding traditions...like the ritual magic you
have been involved in. Muggle customs have woven their ways into our society like a plague, and I
want to purge it of that. Our fertility rate is dropping. Purebloods interbreed too much, and wizards
are having more children with Muggles, exposing more of our world to them. When Muggleborns
attend school, or orphans like ourselves left in the Muggle world, we know nothing of the world
we are thrust into. I want all magic to be studied.”

Hadrian nodded. “What would you do with the Muggleborns and orphans?”

Riddle shrugged. “Place them with a family? I have not given that much thought.”
“What about Magical Creatures?” At Tom’s raised eyebrow, he continued, “Vampires,
Werewolves...they all have a place in society. Outsiders.”

“Who are dangerous.”

“People would say the same to those who practice Dark magic.”

Tom stared at him. “Hadrian, do you not hate your Muggle relatives? I saw what they did to you.
To a wizard. I would want that punished...severely.”

“I do hate them,” he admitted, tongue wetting his lower lip. “But I would not want to see them
hurt.”

“Why not?”

Hadrian averted his eyes and gave a half-hearted shrug. “I dunno.”

“They abused a child .”

His fist curled up into a ball. “I know,” he replied, a hoarse quality to his voice as he remembered
the hunger and the loneliness. He remembered how invisible he felt. His Year Two teacher had
once asked to speak to him after class and asked him how things were at home. He had refused to
answer. When the teacher called Petunia in to talk through his lack of friendships and to voice
concerns over his homelife, his Aunt had said that he was trouble at home. That he often beat
Dudley up in fits of rage and they had strict rules for Harry at home. Then that was it. The teacher
drank it up. Harry got a slipper when they were home. He went back to being invisible.

“You think I am worth more than just teaching.”

Hadrian snapped out of his thoughts but did not answer, just worried his lip through his teeth.

“It is a lengthy path...to be Minister.”

“What?” Hadrian’s face morphed into one of horror.

 Chapter 25
Chapter Notes

Enjoy the early chapter!

Disclaimer: Some of the wording of the memories come from The Order of the
Phoenix and is J.K.Rowling's work, not mine.

“Minister?”

Riddle nodded, gazing over Hadrian’s shoulder. “I am not a patient man, so I may have to navigate
my way around through the connections I have already forged.” That finger was back to tapping
the table. “But you are correct, perhaps teaching is not making use of my power.”

Mind racing, Hadrian swallowed noisily. Lord Voldemort as Minister for Magic? It would be
awful. However, the Slytherin opposite was not Lord Voldemort as the future would not him...not
yet anyway. He knew from Dumbledore’s stories that Riddle would go silent after Hogwarts,
traveling the world. From there, his sanity would start to unravel.

Emerald eyes blinked but froze when he saw Riddle staring at him thoughtfully. “What?”

The other boy hummed. “We should have lunch with the others, but afterwards, I would like to
come back here.” He got to his feet.

Was that the time already? Hadrian sighed and stood up, gathering his cloak up. As he shrugged it
on, he struggled to conjure up an appetite with the image of Riddle as Minister. “What do you want
to do back here?” His eyes widened when the other boy came around the table, reaching out to
straighten his collar. A shudder zipped down his spine at the graze of those cool fingers at his
neck. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to look up and initiate anything he did not feel
comfortable with.

“I want to try something with our magic. And then we should go onto your next memory, as you
have a death wish.” Tom swept out of the library.

Hadrian grumbled under his breath, shoving a hand through his haphazard hair before joining
Riddle back up to the Girl’s bathroom. His fingers kept returning to skim over his lips,
remembering the pressure and feeling of Riddle’s mouth and tongue moving in tandem with
his...possessing and hungry. It was nothing like his experience with Cassius. Cassius was like a
summer breeze and Tom was a tornado.

“Were you close to that Cedric boy?”

He startled at the question as they reached the Girl’s bathroom, closing the entrance behind them.
Myrtle was nowhere to be seen, or heard. “No...not really. He was older than me, but we helped
each other out during the Tournament.”

Riddle nodded. He pushed the door open and held it open for Hadrian to exit the room first. “What
was the Tournament like? I thought it was banned since the 1700s.”
Hadrian waited for the other boy to fall into step beside him. “It was stupid. A death trap for
teenagers. I mean, what kind of society pits teenagers across the world against each other to
entertain themselves? Dragons, merpeople...a bloody sphinx.”

“Sounds entertaining.”

He shot Riddle a look, whose lip twitched at the side with an almost-smile that made Hadrian’s
stomach flip. “Well, it is not entertaining.”

“I am surprised that Dumbledore would allow that to happen.”

“Are you?” Hadrian gave a quiet snort. “You saw how he put a three-headed dog in the school to
guard the stone. He hired someone linked to Voldemort more than once. My Potions Professor is a
Death Eater. Detentions in the Forbidden Forest...I could go on.

“That is true. So, tell me about the dragons.”

As they walked through the corridors and down the stairs, Hadrian narrated the story of the first
trial. Something inside him loosened retelling the story. Riddle was a good listener, making
surprised noises at certain parts of his tale but he remained quiet to allow him to recite the events.

An arm barred across him suddenly, stopping him in his tracks. Hadrian stuttered over his words,
but then realised he had been so caught up gesticulating with his narration over his trial with the
dragon, that he had been about to walk off the staircase before it was finished merging.

His cheeks flared with heat. “Thanks.”

Riddle caught his eyes, holding them for a moment as his arm withdrew. “No problem.” They
continued their walk, unaware of the Hufflepuff girls that had been travelling on the same stairway
as them, who now whispered speculatively behind them as they all made their way to the Great
Hall.

“That is an effective use of the summoning spell, especially with a Hungarian Horntail chasing
you,” Riddle said as they entered the bustling Hall.

Hadrian’s appetite roared to life at the myriad of smells. He nodded. “A very underrated spell.”

They spotted their usual group of Slytherins. Silas and Antonin were caught up in a fierce debate
about the new Cleansweeper broom, whilst the other boys were quietly chatting about one of the
new Ministry policies on European travel.

Abraxas’ cool eyes slid up to the both of them as they approached. Hadrian was surprised when
Tom told Dorian to move to the other side next to Abraxas, choosing to slide onto the bench next to
Hadrian.

Confused as an emotion, did not quite cut it. Hadrian began to serve himself some sandwiches and
water, keeping an ear on the conversation around them. Riddle had changed the topic to one of the
political situation surrounding the current Minister for Magic, with increasing pressure around
Grindelwald. He allowed himself to study the new seating arrangements, and made a note that this
was the second time now that Riddle had moved someone out of the way to position Hadrian next
to him.

Obviously, the other Slytherin was keeping an eye on him, especially given that Hadrian knew a
lot about him. Riddle could not afford that information to get out to anyone else. However, there
was another element he could not get away from now. Riddle had kissed him twice now. Once, to
cast Dumbledore’s suspicions aside, but the kiss today…

He shifted, quickly picking up the glass of water.

“Everyone is expecting to see Dumbledore step up and get rid of Grindelwald,” Abraxas said.

“What is stopping him?” Cassius replied thoughtfully.

“What do you think, Hadrian?” Tom asked.

Hadrian froze before shooting a dark look at him but Riddle just gave him a mock-inquisitive look
in response. He sighed a little. “Well, what do you mean or want when you say Dumbledore has to
‘stop’ him?”

“You think Grindelwald could be contained in a jail?” Abraxas asked, a blonde eyebrow rose
before he took a bite of his sandwich.

“I do not think Dumbledore has it in him to kill someone he once called a friend,” he answered
carefully. However, it was something he had battled with. Of course, Voldemort was known as
more powerful than Grindelwald himself, but Harry Potter had been trained to kill the Darkest Lord
of all time. The hypocrisy of Dumbledore was something he tried not to think too long and hard
about.

“Interesting,” Abraxas replied. “Did you still want to catch up today with your missed lessons?”

“No,” Riddle answered smoothly before Hadrian could reply. “Hadrian is working on a project
with me.”

Hadrian did not miss Abraxas’ eyes slide down to his neck before giving both of them a speculative
look. His face drained of colour and it took all of his self-control not to touch where the other boy
had been looking. Before he could excuse himself and flee from the hall, a hand slid onto his leg
and gave a warning squeeze. There was no way he was making another scene. But now he was
paranoid.

“Healer Roberts had been trying to find you yesterday morning and today,” Cassius said from
beside Abraxas.

“Oh, okay,” he answered, fiddling with his collar. His attention was suddenly diverted back to the
hand on his thigh, which was still sat there. Hadrian tried to shift away, to jolt the hand off, but
instead it tightened.

“Yes, you completely disappeared yesterday.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes at Riddle’s accusatory tone. “I went for a walk. A man is entitled to his
privacy.”

“Well, you have to give me her name, Hadrian,” Elias Nott grinned. “She did a number on you. It
looks like you’ve been attacked by a vampire.”

Abraxas groaned and the others shot Elias all looks. Hadrian meanwhile, felt his face drop in
mortification before anger surged within him. His magic reacted without another thought. Elias’
eyes bulged out, his hands clawing at his neck as he gasped for breath.

“Hadrian,” Riddle breathed, leaning down.

Avada Kedavra eyes were ignited with fury as they joined with Tom’s. “What?”

“You are drawing attention.”

Hadrian’s upper lip curled. He withdrew his magic and went back to eating, confident he had made
his point. At least the hand had gone from his lap as well. The rest of the meal, he had spent
angrily munching on his lunch, until Riddle stood to leave.

As he too stood up, his eyes were caught by a group of Fifth Year Hufflepuff girls who were
giggling and looking over at him. Hadrian shook his head before leaving with Riddle. He
understood the female attention as Harry Potter - his name was legendary and fame often attracted
people. However, here he was a nobody. In fact, he did not even share any classes with the girls or
anything. Strange.

He made a point of silence as both of them made the walk back to the Chamber. As Riddle
conjured the Chamber to open, Hadrian moved over to a mirror. He gazed in horror at the line of
livid red marks in a trail down the left hand side of his neck.

“Riddle!” he hissed, spinning around.

However, Tom was already journeying down into the Chamber. His fists clenched at his sides as
he stomped across the bathroom and descended, closing the tap-system behind him. They
descended the spiral staircase that Hadrian wished he had known he could have summoned in the
future during his Second Year. What did his classmates think about it? They had seen the marks.
Of course they would make the connection to Riddle, even if Elias had jumped to a different
conclusion. He had been gone all morning with Tom and then he turns up with hickeys all over
him.

“Massster!”

Hadrian smiled, anger dissipating at the sight of his snake. He picked up his companion when
Onyx slithered over, as he reached the bottom. There was a weight to him now as he draped the
serpent over his shoulders and strode into the main chamber.

“What have you been up to?”

“Baskssing in the sssun...then roaming with Una.”

Riddle stood in the middle of the Chamber. “I hope the both of you are out of sight, especially
Una,” Tom said.

“Yesss,” Onyx replied, with a swish of his tail.

“What are we doing out of the library?” Hadrian asked.

Riddle shrugged off his robes, folding them and then placing them at the feet of Salazar Slytherin.
He then withdrew his wand from his pocket. “I want to initiate the priori incantatem to study it.”

Hadrian grimaced. “Do we have to?”

“You agreed to let me study the magic between us.” That wand dangled from those elegant fingers,
that gesture identical to Voldemort. “I am curious after those memories of yours, of the graveyard.”

He had to make this different. Hadrian nudged Onyx off his shoulders, who slithered down with a
disgruntled noise. He too, took off his robes but just placed them outside the runic circle. When he
straightened, he drank in Tom’s appearance. The other boy had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows
and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. It looked casual, and made something hot stir in his
stomach.

“This can be used as a ritual circle, or a dueling circle,” Riddle explained. “This circle is mainly for
blood rituals but these kind of ritual circles also allow for the magic to be contained.” He stepped
into the circle.

Hadrian scowled, removing his wand from his pocket as he made his way over the etched runes on
the polished floor. “Well, after this is done, you are removing what you did to my neck.”

Riddle tilted his head slightly to the side. “We will see.”

“Riddle,” he warned.

“Tom.” Then, without any warning, he struck.

It was wordless but Hadrian could feel the power tainting the air as it screamed on its way over to
him. He threw up a silent ‘expelliarmus’, half-amazed how effective it had been. Wordless magic
was more expected in this time than it was in the future, and he had been practising each night and
lesson.

He blinked and saw the colours of their spells joining the brother wands. Instead of the bright red
like before coming from his, it was a deep green, almost black. Tom’s was still bright green. It
must have been a less powerful spell coming from Riddle, as there was not the same force causing
them to fly off their feet but there was a tension radiating from his arm and all throughout his
body.

Golden thread whisked out of the amalgamation of green magic joining both of the boys - creating
a spider web around them, encasing them like prey. The nodule of gold in the middle of the green
stayed steadily in the middle as both of them put no will towards moving it. There was a distinct
sound of zapping in the air, like an electrical current.

“We will have to test it with the Slytherins,” Tom commented, his voice carrying easily across the
distance between them. “To see if we can be attacked during this. My reading around this
phenomenon suggests that we cannot.”

“I do not see the relevance of this,” Hadrian grumbled, holding his wand steady. A small part of
him wanted to press that bubble forward and take Tom by surprise, but a deal was a deal. If Riddle
wanted to study it, then fair enough.

“You do not see the relevance of a shield powerful enough to withstand any curse?” Riddle shook
his head a little. “When we fought, our wands battled for domination...but look how it stays silent
between us. I must admit, our magic is limited to just the bond of our wands but this could be a
strong defense.”

Grudgingly, Hadrian agreed. It had its benefits, but the idea of not being able to use any other
magic was a massive downside. “Just because we cannot use magic, does not mean that we could
not use other magical items.”

Cinnamon eyes latched onto his, a slow smile spreading across his mouth. “Interesting idea,
Hadrian.” His gaze then slid to Onyx who was just watching what the wizards were up to.
***

Senses buzzing, Hadrian could not keep still. For hours they had studied the priori incantatem.
Onyx had not been able to get in, however, they had managed to drop the spell between them. The
last time they did it, it had been a battle of wills to dominate, but the will to end it mutually had
released them both.

Riddle had then made them conjure it again, this time with Onyx inside. Sadly, the spell had
ejected the snake from the spider web of gold. The snake had spat at them both furiously before
slithering away where he ‘would not be experimented on’. It was then that Riddle had one last
experiment. If their magic was put against each other and created priori incantatem , then what
would it do if the brother wands joined forces?

There was now a massive hole in the Chamber wall, right next to Slytherin’s statue. A simple
reducto had blasted through meters of rock. By themselves, they had managed a mere crack in the
mirror-like walls.

Tom had been beside himself with glee - the happiest Hadrian had ever seen him. Hadrian was now
watching him as he inspected the massive hole. His hand clenched and unclenched by his side, as
his magic fluttered within him. There was no magic exhaustion. In fact, he had never felt more
invigorated after using magic. It reminded him of how he had felt after killing Croaker. As that
thought flitted through his mind, Hadrian’s stomach flopped.

“Help me repair it,” Riddle said, as he made his way back to Hadrian, who was standing just
outside of the ritual circle.

Both of them raised their wands, and after a quick glance at each other, they wordlessly cast
‘reparo’. Bits of the stone rose from their haphazard resting points and they watched as the wall
knitted itself back together again.

Riddle released a hum, tucking his wand back into his pocket. He turned to face Hadrian, and
before the other boy could do or say anything, a cool hand pressed to his neck. Magic tingled
between them. Those cinnamon eyes searched his for a moment, and then he withdrew - walking
away to the tunnel leading back up to the library.

Hadrian gave a disgruntled noise before following him, although nerves bubbled inside of him. He
made his way up the staircase to enter the warm room. Riddle had lit the fire in the massive hearth
near the window that looked over the Chamber. He was standing over it, looking into the burning
embers.

“This won’t work in a pensive,” Hadrian said, walking over to the fire to seek its warmth after the
coolness of the ritual area.

“No?”

He grimaced. “My Fifth year at Hogwarts was...disjointed. There is not just one event.”

Tom was silent for a long moment. “The only other way would be to use Legilimency.”

“I am not putting myself through pain, and allowing you inside if you will just rip your way
through.” Hadrian clasped his hands together in front of him. It was hard to remember the pain he
had felt whenever Voldemort entered his mind; too much time was passing by without living in the
dark shadow of the Dark Lord. However, he remembered how his nerves had tingled for days after
and how his scar had throbbed.

“Hadrian, your mind is too precious for me to destroy. I would see it a privilege that you would let
me in.”

There was a softness to Tom’s voice that he had never heard before. Hadrian bit his bottom lip. He
knew his Occlumency shields were strong enough to throw him out if he was in any trouble.
Nodding, he turned slightly to the other boy. “Can we do it by the fire?”

“Of course.” Riddle eyed the rug before lowering himself to sit on it cross-legged.

Hadrian sat down opposite, his mind racing with all of the things he wanted to avoid Tom seeing.
Typical. He closed his eyes and took in a deep, measured breath. The fingers of warmth from the
hearth grazed against his cheek. It helped him deepen his meditation, despite the presence of his
peer. Then, he began his search.

After a while, he opened his eyes, seeing Tom giving him an unreadable look. “All right,” he said,
voice a little hoarse after his inward adventure.

“Just bring each memory to the surface.”

“I know.” He then felt a probing sensation in the front of his mind and then the library and fire
melted away. His scar tingled with warmth.

The playground...confrontation with ‘Big D’...then everything disappeared - stars, moon and
streetlamps - before an icy chill struck the air. Dudley panicking before striking at Harry...falling
to the ground and then the towering figure gliding towards him. He knew its dark cloak and its
death-like grip. Then his wand in his hand. ‘Expecto Patronum’ stumbling from his lips in order to
save Dudley and himself. An enormous silver stag erupting out...chasing away the
dementors...coming across Mrs Figg. The Dursleys huddled around Dudley who was a gibbering
mess. Vomit. Then blame - from the Dursleys and then the owl. The letter from the Ministry for
Underage Magic...to destroy his wand...a hearing. Then another owl from Arthur Weasley.
Dumbledore was trying to sort it. Thoughts of running. Another letter...Ministry...not destroying
his wand but the hearing would take place. A howler for Petunia after informing them about
Voldemort’s return...then his room, with only his thoughts and worries for company.

Hadrian surfaced, his heart thundering as he was still caught up in the memories of hopelessness
and frustration.

“Your relatives are simply revolting,” Tom said, his upper lip curling.

He half-shrugged. “They were up against something they did not understand. Their son was
possibly brain dead. Well, more brain dead than usual.”

“They did not even try to understand, not even after you told them a dark wizard was after you.”

Hadrian raised an eyebrow. “You expect anything else?” He shifted on the rug, feeling the stone
underneath. “Anyway, this is just the backdrop for the rest of the year.”

“Wait.” Tom tilted his head. “Your patronus has changed.”

His mind flitted back to the silver dragon that had soared out of his wand in his duel with
Lestrange. “Yes...I heard it could. I don’t really know why. The stag linked me to my dad.
Anyway…”
As they both settled again, Hadrian allowed Tom to enter his mind...a cool but not demanding
presence as he pushed the memories to the surface.

The group of adult wizards turning up at Privet Drive...a broomstick ride full with moonlight and
bright red sparks. Grimmauld Place. The Order of the Phoenix - the name scrawled on a piece of
parchment. Going inside the new door, it was dark...Mrs Weasley welcoming him. Where was this?
A new door. Hermione throwing herself on him in a hug, her bushy hair tickling his nose and
smelling of mint. Ron, awkwardly standing there. Both of them apologising for not contacting
him...not allowed. A strained silence. Wanting to be alone. Screaming at the both of them. He had
been alone...stuck at the Dursleys. Bitter words tumbling out. Then Sirius. Sirius explaining...giving
him support...also irritated at Dumbledore keeping Harry away. Family. His godfather...someone
to give him a home. A brief flash of the trial...of Dumbledore barely looking at him and sweeping
out at the end without another word.

Hadrian dragged a breath through to his lungs as he emerged from the flashes of memories. He
looked away from Riddle before he could catch the look in the other boy’s eyes. His heart pinched.
Just seeing Sirius’ face was difficult. Sometimes, his godfather’s face was so vivid in memories
that he could outline every wrinkle around the man’s eyes.

“I can see why, from that, you have issues with consulting with Dumbledore.”

Hadrian traced the patterns of the rug with his finger. “Dumbledore is human. Everyone treats him
like a godly figure, especially as he dealt with Grindelwald, but he is human. He has his faults.
Sometimes he is wrong.”

“That was the Black house.”

Hadrian nodded. “Yes.”

“I have been there. Orion Black is in Third Year, but his father Arcturus Black I met at the Malfoy
Estate. He invited a lot of us to meet his son. The Black that you know - Sirius - does not hold the
same affinity for dark magic.”

He looked up at that. “Sirius was a good man.” Before Tom could comment on his words, he said,
“I need to continue. This is tiring.”

Questioning the pink monstrosity that was Umbridge in her classroom. Then, detention...the blood
quill etching the words: ‘I must not tell lies’ on his hand. The words gleamed with blood that
dripped down onto the parchment. Umbridge’s delight at the pain. His confusion as he stumbled
back to the Common Room when he avoided his friends and tried to hide away… His growing
frustration with the new ‘rules’ and Dumbledore’s lack of intervention. The Room of Requirement
offering them a place to train. To fight. Training them all...teaching them defensive
spells...patronuses…

“Can I see it again?”

Hadrian held out his hand and his breath caught at the soft touch of fingers tracing the scarring on
his hand. What he wanted was to enter Tom’s mind and see what he was thinking and feeling - if
anything. Why did the boy want to see it? Was it some sick fascination like the one he held with
the scar on his forehead? The scar that grew very warm each time Riddle entered his mind.

When the hand withdrew, he went back into his head and once more, allowing him in.

He was dreaming. His body was gliding across stone, a serpentine swish as he travelled to his
prey...a man ahead. Not part of the plan. The man awakened and he sunk his fangs into the man’s
doughy flesh. Blood burst into his mouth. Bone splintered. The prey slumped...silent. Harry waking
from his dream, panic as he panted that Ron’s dad was in trouble. McGonagall questioning him.
Dumbledore seeking information to see if his vision was true...and yes, a body. Arthur Weasley
badly injured. Guilt invading his thoughts and feelings. He had been the snake. Moody linking
Harry seeing through the eyes of Voldemort’s snake - Nagini. The feeling of dirtiness at the idea of
Voldemort using Harry, of their connection. A weapon, something he did not have last time...that
was Harry? Possessing him. Then, forward...into the lessons with Snape. Occlumency. Later, after
Christmas...a dream. He was Voldemort. His fingers long and pale fingers as they touched the
chair in front of him. Rockwood. Bode. Malfoy. Avery to be called. Turning to the mirror...a white
skill and crimson eyes…

Hadrian stumbled out of his memories as a sharp pain sliced into his thoughts.

Riddle was gripping his hand. When had he taken in? Those cinnamon eyes were hard and
questioning as the pain from his head bled away. “You can see through his eyes...his snake as
well?”

He nodded, unable to say anything. That look Riddle was giving him robbed him of all speech. It
was angry, confused...horrified. Hadrian could only watch as Tom got to his feet and strode over to
the window overlooking the Chamber. From his position in front of the fire, he could only see his
back and a fraction of his cheek.

His mind raced. Was there something Hadrian had missed? Or was he embarrassed that Hadrian
held power in the future to enter his mind. He rubbed his scar which was still tingling from Tom’s
access to his mind.

“Has Dumbedore ever given you a reason for the connection you have with Voldemort?”

Hadrian jumped a little as the question suddenly cut through the silence. “What? No. I only know
that my scar is somehow connected.”

The laughter that poured from Tom’s mouth was empty and hollow. He turned to Hadrian, and his
wand was dangling from his fingers. But it was the strange, crooked smile on his mouth that
robbed Hadrian of his breath.
 Chapter 26
Chapter Notes

Enjoy this one! Your comments are amazing, so I really hope you all like this new
installment.

Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: This chapter outlines the direct wording of the prophecy. This is
J.K.Rowling's, not my own.

“What are you doing?” Hadrian withdrew his wand, eyeing the other boy nervously. He could see
too much of Voldemort in the strange expression on his face.

“I want to perform a spell on you.”

His eyebrows flew up, and Hadrian released a small, awkward laugh. “What?” His hand gripped
the handle of his wand.

“I need to do this.”

“Well, what is the spell?”

Riddle’s gaze hardened. “I cannot tell you.”

“No.”

“I do not want to force you.”

“I have just allowed you into my mind. What did you see that made you act like this?” Hadrian
replied, a sharp edge to his voice now. At Riddle’s silence, he made a sound of frustration. “I don’t
understand you sometimes. You have clearly seen something to spook you and you just come out
and want to cast a spell on me, one you won’t even say what it is. You know what, Riddle? I am
done.”

White-hot anger spread like fiendfyre through his veins as he spun around and stomped out of the
library. Stupid, stupid , he thought. It was stupid of him to do this, to think he was making any
difference. ‘ I do not want to force you ’. Those words echoed in his mind, in time with each of his
strides away from Riddle.

Cool fingers suddenly slid around his wrist, stopping Hadrian in his mission to grab his robes and
go. His scar bled warmth, calming the thundering of his heart.

“Hadrian - Harry. I apologise.”

His world stopped. Emerald eyes were wide as he turned to the other Slytherin. Tom’s face was
close, his features softened and his gaze heavy with worry and regret. “You called me ‘Harry’.”

Riddle searched his eyes. “What would you prefer?”

Hadrian shrugged. “I don’t mind. I think I am more comfortable now, with Hadrian.” He stiffened
as Tom’s other hand cupped his jaw. His stomach turned to hot liquid as he stared up at the
handsome planes of the other boy’s face.

“Will you forgive me? I got caught up in everything...seeing all of that.” His thumb brushed over
Hadrian’s cheek, eyes darkening when the movement elicited a shudder from the smaller male.

“An apology, from Tom Riddle? Am I dreaming?”

Riddle’s mouth quirked in the shadow of a smile. “You are the only one who would receive such
an honour.”

All of Hadrian’s anger dripped away and he found himself leaning into the softness of that cool
palm. His scar was still warm, throbbing with the beating of his heart. “I forgive you.”

Tom then drew away. “Can you show me the rest? I want to see; if you will let me.”

Hadrian ran a hand through his hair, hesitantly looking up at where he knew the library was. If he
left the memories where they were, Riddle would be hanging on the knowledge that he could
possess Hadrian in the future. He wanted the Slytherin to understand what happened to Hadrian
because of it all. His thoughts skidded to a halt. When had his thoughts gone from deterring Riddle,
to Riddle ‘understanding’ him?

What was this? The touches...the kissing...the apology…

“Hadrian?”

“Yes.” He blinked back to reality. Did he fancy Tom Riddle? The man who would become his
parents’ killer. But not yet. The young man in front of him was not yet the monster that massacred
his way through the wizarding population. He was a killer, yes. But so was Hadrian, now. His
stomach tightened at the revelation.

“Shall we?” Tom gestured with his hand.

This time, it was Hadrian who led the way back up to the library and sat in front of the fire first. He
swallowed loudly as Riddle sat opposite him, those eyes drinking him in...devouring him. “All
right...I am ready.”

The Department of Mysteries... a high, cold voice...Sirius...Crucio...Harry coming too and

demanding Professor McGonagall...Sirius has been taken by Voldemort. Thestrals...flying to save
Sirius...it was cold, dark...and he was worried that he would be too late. Going into the
Ministry...rows upon rows of shelves...orbs...Ron stopping him. One orb had his name.

S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D

Dark Lord

And (?) Harry Potter

He took the ball...and then the voice of Lucius Malfoy breaking the silence. Him demanding where
Sirius was...and Bellatrix Lestrange mocking him...a prophecy. His power move against
Bellatrix...threatening her with smashing it...her boss not being happy...Malfoy jeering that
Dumbledore had never told him about a prophecy connecting him with the Dark Lord...then
confirmation that Sirius was not a victim of the Dark Lord. It had been a placed vision into
Harry’s head. Then carnage. Yelled ‘Reductos’ from behind...shelves falling...orbs
smashing...fighting...hiding...fighting...then trapped with ten Death Eaters. Help. Sirius, Lupin,
Moody, Tonks and Kingsley...then helping Neville...the prophecy slips...falls and everything is too
loud to hear. Dumbledore arriving and the Death Eaters scrambling away… Not Bellatrix...she
continued with Sirius. A spell striking him in the chest...and then falling...falling into the veil...His
cries. Then anger. White-hot. Lightning through his limbs...pulling away from Lupin to chase after
Bellatrix...who gloated. Him yelling ‘Crucio’ but nothing. ‘You need to mean them, Potter.’ The
Voldemort. A statue protecting him from the ‘Avada Kedavra’. Then Dumbledore again. The
fight...such power. Then nothing but his scar splitting open...bound and his mouth moving as if he
were a mere puppet. Harry longed for death...for the pain to end...and then nothing. Voldemort
disappearing. Back at Hogwarts...his fury with Dumbledore...the loss of Sirius… The truth from the
Headmaster...the scar as their connection...to read Voldemort’s emotions...awareness of his
presence. Apologies...Dumbledore aware that Voldemort could take control of Harry’s mind...and
the ‘shadow’ of Voldemort behind Harry’s eyes. Protection from Voldemort from his mother’s
sacrifice...her protection. Then the prophecy…

‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…

And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…

Dumbledore confirming that one of them will have to kill the other for this to all end...the man’s
tears as he wept for Harry’s bleak future …

Hot, wet tears ran down his cheeks. Hadrian used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe them away, turning
his face from the other boy. There was a deep, cavernous hole inside him that the memory of Sirius
belonged to. It was like a whirlpool; once he got too close, it sucked him into its misery and self-
loathing.

“A self-fulfilling prophecy,” Riddle uttered. “I mark you as an equal...because of the prophecy.”

There was a shuffle before a hand turned Harry’s face towards him. “And this…” His finger traced
the lightning bolt scar, where a slight sigh fell from the raven-haired boy’s mouth. “This connects
you to him...to me.”

“To him. Not you...you don’t cause me pain. I cannot see through your eyes,” Hadrian replied,
trying to focus with that finger causing heat to travel down his body.

“That dream we had, of your childhood, we shared that. Your scar is connected to me . I can feel it;
I can feel you whenever you are near,” Riddle murmured. “What does it feel like? It does not cause
you pain.”

Hadrian’s cheeks flared. “Not pain.”

“Then what?” When Hadrian did not answer, Riddle pressed his finger harder on the scar as he
traced it again. His lips curled up as a choked moan slid from the smaller male’s lips. “Pleasure?”
Not waiting for a reply, he leaned into his ear. “What an interesting reaction.”
“Tom,” Hadrian breathed.

“Did Dumbledore ever tell you more about the scar?”

He blinked, watching as Tom withdrew. Fighting away embarrassment, he licked his bottom lip
before searching his jumbled thoughts. “No, nothing. But we spoke about the prophecy just before
I left. Dumbledore was insistent that my power over you was love.” His eyes slid away to the fire.
“He said that I had never been seduced by the Dark Arts and that my ability to love protected me
from it. I was pure of heart...my soul was untarnished and whole. But...it isn’t anymore is it?” He
fiddled with a loose bit of thread on the rug the both of them were sat on. “My soul is ripped. It is
ripped and tarnished because I killed Croaker. Does that mean my ability to love is gone?” Hadrian
finally turned his haunted eyes to Riddle.

Tom was frowning, deep in thought. His mouth twisted and then he replied, “I don’t know,
Hadrian. I don’t think so. Dabbling in the Dark Arts does not strip away your capacity to love. Of
course, you have killed a man and that does damage the soul, but look at how much you have
loved your friends and family. Has that disappeared?”

Hadrian shook his head. The fire cracked beside them, and Hadrian allowed the heat to sink into
his bones to warm him. “There is nothing more to show you. Dumbledore wanted to take me to
destroy another horcrux he had found, but I had an incident with a Slytherin...Abraxas’ grandson.
We are - were - enemies. I used a spell I did not understand on him...slicing him open.” He took in
a trembling breath. “I fled when someone came to help, but it was from a potions book I had found
with writing inside. I wanted to hide it away, so it would not be found. So, I went to the Room of
Requirement and asked for somewhere to hide and when I entered...I was here.”

“Can you show me where it is?”

“The Room of Requirement? Yes...but not today. I am tired now.”

Tom stared at him. “One more thing, Hadrian.” When he was sure he had the other boy’s attention,
he asked, “Where were you yesterday morning?”

Hadrian froze. “I was just walking around and I went to Hogsmeade. I just needed some space.”

Riddle hummed. “This brings an end to our first deal, but I would still like to explore our magic
further.” He gently squeezed Hadrian’s knee before patting it. “Go and rest. I am going to stay
down here for a while, to digest what I have seen.”

They both stood, and as Hadrian dusted off his trousers, he watched the other Slytherin retreat back
to the table where the pensive lay - now obsolete. Had he done the right thing? Riddle knew
everything knew. If anything, he knew too much. “Tom?” He watched as the pale face turned to
him, the candlelight throwing shadows under his eyes and into the slight hollows of his cheeks.
“Please don’t create anymore horcruxes. There are other ways to hide from Death.”

Hadrian then left, wrapped up in his thoughts and wanting to be by himself for a while. He was not
aware of the hungry eyes that followed his movements across the Chamber, from the window that
overlooked it. Nor was he aware of the plans already formulating in the young Riddle’s mind.

***
The undulating, green hill backdrop appeared real, so real that the front row of students could pick
out each, individual blade of grass. With each breath of the false wind, the blades shuddered and
moved. It was obvious that Dumbledore’s impressive magic had been used for the set design, even
if Dippet had repeated that fact numerous times throughout the introduction to the play.

In the middle of the top of the hill that the play was centred around, was a wide, stone fountain. It
was big enough for multiple people to bathe in; its bowl rounded at the sides almost like a bath.
There were runes etched into the brim and base but from where the Slytherins were sitting - at the
back - they were difficult to make out.

Hadrian was disinterested anyway. They were missing lessons for a pointless play, a pet project of
Professor Beery. He felt he was sliding away in his studies, especially because he missed lessons
last week. So, he was more focused on his book that he had smuggled into the play, hiding it in the
folds of his cloak that he had gathered in his lap. It was the missing Arithmancy work from
Thursday’s lesson. Strangely, he was enjoying it, but Abraxas had a way of wording it all so it
made it easier to understand. It had given him a solid basis for the more advanced theory.

Emerald eyes slid over to Riddle, who was sitting beside him. The boy looked bored and tired.
Tom had skipped dinner yesterday, and had only just made it to the common room for curfew
where he had gone straight to bed. There were smudges of darkness that underlined his eyes.

Cassius had attempted to sit on his other side, but had been navigated away by Abraxas, who had
taken the place instead. Hadrian was very suspicious of Tom’s involvement in this. Was it a
hierarchical move? Or a possessive one? Hadrian had the knowledge of who Tom was, and just
what he was capable of. Would Tom really want him getting close to one of his followers, and
possibly telling someone else? However, he found himself missing Cassius less and less the more
time he had spent with Riddle. Just sitting here, next to him, his skin buzzed with feeling. He was
aware of Tom’s presence like never before.

Small bubbles of laughter rose from the crowd as three witches appeared on scene: Asha with her
malady no one could cure; Altheda who had been wronged, by being robbed by a man; and Amata
who had been deserted by the one she loved. The students loved seeing their peers dressed up as
these fictional characters.

There was a small group of Hufflepuff girls who kept looking over to Hadrian and Riddle, giggling
amongst themselves. Hadrian frowned at them, realising there were the same group from yesterday.
But his frown did not seem to deter them.

Hadrian sighed, looking back down to his book. However, he sniffed at the smell of something
smoky as it drifted over. His head rose once more and he spotted some smoke rising underneath
part of the enchanted stage, to the right of the actors. Was it part of the set? Smoke?

Suddenly, a large, white ‘worm’ crashed through the staging, shattering it. Hadrian knew
something was definitely wrong at that point - given the worm was the finale. He closed his book
with a smack as the worm started to convulse.

“Trevor!” the student playing Asha screamed, backing away from the grotesque beast.

“You disgusting whore,” screamed the student playing Amata. She grabbed ‘Asha’s’ hair and
pulled. The wig ripped off her head, falling to the floor. “He is my boyfriend!”

The audience watched on with a mix of horror and laughter.

As ‘Amata’ and ‘Asha’ whipped out their wands, the worm exploded. Red sparks flew everywhere,
catching the stage and the enchantments fell. The wooden parts the charms had been attached to,
caught fire quickly.

Professor Beery flounced out from behind the stage, his eyes wide open as he screamed for help.
However, he quickly threw himself to the floor when a spell from ‘Amata’ shot in his direction, as
he stood in the middle of the duelling witches.

Just then, an explosion rocked the seating and the floor. A fireball engulfed part of the stage that
had been smoking. The thick, grey smoke flooded the Hall instantly.

There was screaming everywhere and it was hot . Hadrian stood up, discarding his book and the
cloak. He barely saw Abraxas escaping, but he could make out Tom’s form, rising also to stand.

Without thinking, Hadrian seized Tom’s hand. His magic twitched to life at the physical contact.
“Tom...please, we need to do something.” He erupted into coughing as the smoke filled his lungs.

His hand tugged. “We need to get out of here,” Riddle hissed.

“No.” Hadrian planted his feet into the ground. He coughed again. “Let us try our magic.”

There was a heartbeat of silence until his hand was squeezed. “Aguamenti.”

He nodded, although he knew Tom could not see through the smoke. It was when he felt Tom’s
magic rise up, that he allowed his too, as well. “Aguamenti,” both of them cast in unison.

Their magic erupted out of their brother wands. A tsunami of water appeared in front of them,
crashing down into the chairs and staging in front of them. The boys stood there as the fires were
immediately extinguished. Dippet and Dumbledore stepped in, waving their wands and dissipating
the smoke from the air.

“That was…” Hadrian trailed off. He glanced up at Tom, and saw how their magic still danced
between them, almost visible with how strong it was. Those brown eyes tinged with just a hint of
red gazed back at him.

“Boys.” Dumbledore was the first one over. His mouth was set in a firm line, and when those
usually-twinkly blue eyes dropped to their joined hands, the line seemed to swallow his lips. His
robes were soaking wet but he took out his wand and dried himself off.

“Professor Dumbledore?” Tom replied, his tone neutral and polite.

“I think it is best we take this to my office,” Headmaster Dippet said, his smile strained as he made
eye contact with Hadrian. He then turned, “Beery, get this mess tidied up and wait outside my
office.” His voice changed and thundered across the Hall. Water dripped from his bushy beard and
eyebrows.

Professor Beery - drenched - lifted himself up off the floor, face devoid of colour.

Hadrian slid his hand out of Riddle’s reluctantly, and pulled his magic back. He rolled his
shoulders. It was getting more difficult to take it away, almost as if it wanted to be constantly
joined with Tom’s.

“Why are we going to your office?” Hadrian asked. “We just helped get rid of the fire.” It was no
wonder why there were no more school plays in the future…

Dippet gave him a stern look before whisking away. “Office. Now.” Dumbledore also exited.
Hadrian sighed. There were students emerging from all areas of the Great Hall, watching the Head
and Deputy with the two Slytherin boys.

Tom brushed his arm, giving him his robes and book. “Let me steer the conversation,” he
murmured. He nudged Hadrian forward.

“Can you hold this?” Riddle took the offered book from him as they both walked out of the Hall, so
Hadrian could shrug on his robes. When he took the book back, he offered the taller boy a smile of
‘thanks’.

“That was an impressive use of magic,” Riddle said. “It certainly opens up possibilities.”

Hadrian nodded as they made their way to the staircases. “I just don’t understand why we are being
hauled into Dippet’s office about it.”

“It is something they do not quite understand. People are always afraid of that.” Riddle turned to
him and cast a cleaning charm on the both of them. He then leaned forward and pushed some of
the haphazard hair away from his forehead.

His breath caught at the gesture and Hadrian turned away. He wanted his face away from Tom,
aware that inside he was scared and he did not want the other boy picking it up. A megalomaniac
Riddle he could possibly deal with, but this was different. Tom was being nice . Too nice. The
touches...the words...everything. And Hadrian could not deal with it. He knew Voldemort, but
Riddle was another kettle of fish. He had no idea how emotionally available Tom Riddle was.
Even so, Hadrian was not here in the past to get hurt. He recalled the Potions class where they had
studied and brewed Amortentia, where he had questioned if a baby born from a love potion could
love.

“Hadrian, does Dippet know?”

He gave a nod, still not looking at him. “He does, but he can only speak to me about it all. He is
under an Unbreakable Vow.”

Riddle made a thoughtful sound.

They made their way in silence to the Headmaster’s Office. Dippet was sat waiting at his desk,
whilst Dumbledore stood to the side, exactly where Fawkes would sit in the future.

As they took their seats opposite, Hadrian brought up his Occlumency shields up. With
Dumbledore in the room, it was a must.

“So, boys, explain to me what happened.”

“Well, Sir,” Tom began, “it was a natural reaction. We wanted to help, and cast at the same time.”

Professor Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles. “That was no ordinary casting at the
same time.”

“I do not know what happened, Professor,” Tom answered, his voice dripping with politeness.

“Mr Peverell, what is your explanation?”

He avoided eye contact with Dumbledore, just looking at the space above his head. “Exactly what
Tom says, Sir.”
“The both of you have been...absent from your House recently. Not studying with your peers,”
Dumbledore continued.

“That is my fault,” Tom replied. “Hadrian and I have been spending a lot of time together by
ourselves. We have found ourselves enjoying each other's company...and well, we wanted to keep
our relationship to ourselves for a while.”

Hadrian struggled to keep his expression flat and emotionless. Relationship? What was Riddle
doing? But when his eyes darted over, Tom looked calm and collected.

“Relationship?” Dippet asked. His eyes narrowed onto Hadrian.

“Yes, relationship, Sir. We are both aware that relationships between men are still not as accepted
as heterosexual relationships, and we want to enjoy the time together without fear of judgement.”

The Headmaster’s attention returned to Riddle. “Mr Riddle, we are a very accepting school and
you both do not have to fear judgment. I suppose these fears may come from the influence of your
Muggle upbringing, but the wizarding world is accepting of such relationships. Professor
Dumbledore is testament to that.” Dippet gestured to his Deputy, who appeared to stiffen
minutely.

Hadrian was rooted to his chair, his cheeks burning at the conversation around him. He wanted to
grab Riddle and demand exactly what was going on. The only thing he could think about was that
he was weaving the narrative into what Dumbledore had seen the other evening, where Tom had
kissed him to avoid suspicion about the Chamber of Secrets location. However, what stirred his
interest was the comment about Dumbledore. That, linked to what he knew about Grindelwald,
made things a bit more interesting.

“Thank you, Sir,” Riddle answered.

“Does that please you, Albus?” Dippet asked. “Both of these boys have kept their outstanding
grades, despite missing time with their peers and the library.” Without waiting for a response, the
Headmaster continued, “I am sure this was a freak accident with your magic, but I must say to both
of you, that if you find this recurs, I would like you to come to me.” That was aimed at Hadrian
with a look. “Now, Mr Riddle, please return to your common room until the mess is sorted. We
need a word with Hadrian.”

Tom was still for a moment, before he stood up. His hand landed on Hadrian’s shoulder and gave a
gentle squeeze. As the Slytherin left, Hadrian was left wondering about the touch. Was it a warning
or reassurance?

“There is a further matter we need to discuss, Hadrian,” Dippet said.

“Yes, Sir.”

“How are you feeling after your recent head trauma?”

“Fine.”

“Healer Roberts was trying to find you on Saturday. He was so concerned when he could not find
you, that he asked to see me. You were not in the castle, or on the grounds.”

Hadrian just stared at the Headmaster.

Dippet’s eyebrows rose. “Care to explain where you were?”

His jaw clenched at the tone of the older man’s voice. “Hogsmeade, Sir.”

A piece of parchment appeared in front of Dumbledore. “Your name was not on the list that is
required for students to sign. Your Head of House assures me that he went through protocol with
you.”

“My apologies.”

Blue eyes fixed on him. “You did not use the main entrance to Hogsmeade.”

“I will in the future,” he replied tightly.

“These rules are in place for your safety, as a student,” Dippet explained.

“I apologise.”

“As this is a breaking of the school rules, we have taken away the rights for you to visit anywhere
outside Hogwarts for a month. We do have to set a standard for all of our students,” the
Headmaster said.

Hadrian’s mouth fell open. “What? Does this include the Ministry Function?”

“Yes. We will inform Professor Slughorn.”

“No, I have to go to this,” Hadrian exploded out. “Please, Headmaster, this is a real opportunity for
me to have a future. I don’t have the luxury of an inheritance or family to fall back on.”

“Armando, if I may?” Dumbledore interjected. At the Headmaster’s nod, he said to Hadrian, “I

would be willing to accept Mr Peverell serving his punishment through detention with myself
every evening for two weeks, to make up his time.”

Shit. Hadrian’s eyes flitted between both of the men. Time with Dumbledore instead.

“I would be willing to accept that,” Dippet answered.

Hadrian shook his head. “This is ridiculous. Tom and I saved the Hall, and this is the thanks?”
Really shouldn’t have bothered, were the words he wanted to end with. He clenched his teeth.
“Fine, whatever. As long as I can go to the Ministry.”

Ten minutes later, Hadrian was stomping his way down to the common room. He wore his anger
like a shroud, cursing Dumbledore with every word in his mental vocabulary and then repeated
them in Parseltongue.

In the common room, everyone was sitting down chatting about the events. When Hadrian entered,
it went silent for a moment but he ignored them. He strode over to his usual group and plonked
himself down on the comfy wing-backed chair next to Tom’s.

Tom looked fucking majestic next to him, lazily sat there with his leg crossed over his other in a
mascline sprawl. However, that only stirred more anger inside of him.

“What did they say to put you in such a bad mood?”

Hadrian felt his upper lip curl. “A punishment for leaving the castle Saturday, without signing out.
They wanted to keep me at Hogwarts for a month...no Ministry Function.”

“That could be a good thing, given Grindelwald’s warning,” Tom drawled.

The Slytherin’s watched the interaction, their conversations half-forgotten. Elias rubbed his neck
absently, eyeing Hadrian.

“Well, Dumbledore made a deal with me. Detention with him for two weeks .” Hadrian glared at
him. “And what was that about a relationship?”

Tom’s face remained mostly passive, but his upper lip curved slightly. “Just playing our part,
darling.”

“You are a monster.” Hadrian’s stomach tumbled at the mock endearment.

“Be careful with Dumbledore.”

He snorted. “I know him better than you.”

“But that does mean you could underestimate him. He will not like how much time you spend with
me, given his suspicions already about my behaviour.”

He did not answer this time, just glowering. Tom, however, slid back into the conversations
between the Slytherins and left Hadrian to his thoughts.
 Chapter 27
Chapter Notes

Thank you all for the reviews for the last chapter! I am glad you all like the sweet
Hufflepuff girls; they have a KEY role next chapter in dedication to all of you and
your kind words for this story.

I hope you enjoy this latest installment and what it means going forward. There is
serious angst going on from this chapter forth... LOTS of Dumbledore.

A lot of you are asking about Cassius, and as you can see, Tom is keeping him FAR
away from Hadrian. Sweet jealousy!

It was a beautiful manor house, set upon sprawling land. The stonework had ivy tumbling upon it,
creeping onto the window frames and silhouetting the large entrance doors. Golden lights glowed
from inside, only broken by the criss-cross of metal diamonds patterned onto the windows. The hill
on which the house was perched on, overlooked the small town below. Beyond that was a small
forest. The sun was sinking into the horizon, and darkness taking hold of the quintessential scene.

Hadrian drank in the beauty of the land, until the moon disappeared behind a muddle of clouds
and hid most of the view away. He turned back to the manor house. The large, wooden door was
ajar. Making his decision, he decided to go in, to see where he was and who lived there.

The hall in which he emerged was light, lit up by a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a
series of lamps in various nooks and crannies. There were no sounds of footsteps or life, so
Hadrian ventured further in. A sprawling staircase dominated the entrance hall of the house, each
step carved out of solid, dark wood. It was like a snapshot of life from the history books in Primary
school when they had learnt about Morrison shelters and constructed their own with the school
tables. Why did he still remember that? It was obviously during the time of the war. His current
time.

A scream rose exploded into the silence of the room, invading before quickly withdrawing and
leaving Hadrian in the now eerie quiet of the hall.

Hadrian frowned, trying to pin-point where the scream had come from. Then there was a series of
thuds. He turned down to the corridor to the left, where the corridor was slightly darker, a few dim
lights hanging from the ornate ceiling.

Up ahead, there was a set of open doors clearly leading the way into a larger room. He
approached it carefully, but when he reached into his back pocket, there was no wand. Hadrian
peered around the doorway and drew in a breath. He walked inside, coming up behind Tom who
stood there, in the middle of the room.

Riddle stood - wand out, but not his wand - over the bodies of three adults.

“Tom?”

That handsome head whipped in his direction, face outlined with anger. “What are you doing
here?”

“Is this a memory or a dream?”

“Get out.” That wand pointed at him.

Hadrian ignored him, moving past him to look down at the three corpses. One of them was an
older image of Tom, which must have been his father, whilst the other two were much older -
grandparents. Their faces were frozen in shock, mouths slack.

“Did it make you feel better?”

“Hadrian, get out. Now.” Riddle’s voice was dripping with rage.

“I don’t want to be here,” Hadrian commented, turning his back on the bodies. It was then he felt
Tom’s magic through the dream or memory, building. In a burst of energy, the drawing room
faded into darkness and he slipped away.

***

Tom had not spoken to him all morning. It confirmed his suspicions, that much like when Riddle
had ended up seeing him at the Dursleys, it had been a memory dressed as a dream. When Hadrian
closed his eyes, he could still see the three dead faces, their glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling,
unseeing.

During breakfast, he had sat beside Hadrian, but made no effort to engage in any conversation or
answer him at all. So he had spoken to Cassius about quidditch, which caused Riddle to bite out
that he was going to Charms early and left. Hadrian was surprised to feel hurt from the other boy’s
actions, and he had to remind himself who Tom Riddle was many times during the morning.
Nevertheless, his eyes seemed to gravitate to the other Slytherin whenever there was the
opportunity. Too many times had he found himself thinking back to the kiss in the Chamber. It was
as if the memory of that hot mouth on his neck was burnt into his skin and mind.

After lunch, the Slytherins and Gryffindors settled into Defense Against the Dark Arts with
Dumbledore. Today it was the Patronus Charm. The Professor stood at the front of his desk as he
recounted what they studied last year with the spell. They had studied the theory, and today they
were going to attempt it.

“...the Patronus Charm is supposedly a representation of your true self, your inner self,”
Dumbledore explained. “However, there have been many surprises amongst the forms some of
them take.”

Hadrian half-listened, scribbling a picture of a stag in the margin of his books.

“...and can only be performed by the pure of heart, able to conjure up an image of happiness. There
are many studies into how those who practice Dark Arts, cannot cast a Patronus, instead get a
spattering of maggots. It is claimed that Dark wizards are unable to produce a true, happy image.”

Had Hadrian cast his Patronus since killing Croaker? What if he could not cast it anymore? It was
bad enough that his had morphed into a dragon, of all creatures. What did that represent about
himself?
“Yes, Miss Davies?”

A Gryffindor girl lowered her hand. “What is the form your Patronus takes, Sir?”

The Professor gave a slight smile. “A Phoenix.” He paused. “Mr Avery?”

Cassius straightened. “How do you know what memory to choose? Is there a strength to each
one?”

Dumbledore regarded the Slytherin over his half-moon spectacles. “Yes, there is. Getting a pair of
socks for Christmas may make one happy, but true happiness? It needs to be a memory that you
hold dear. Your family, a loved one, a surprise...the list may go on.”

Soon, the questions died down and Dumbledore gave them time to think about the memory which
they were going to pick. Nervousness was bubbling in his stomach, not wanting his wand to
explode with maggots. All he had going round his head was the image of Ron spewing up slugs,
until the slugs transformed into maggots. He grimaced and turned his attention on Dumbledore,
who was encouraging them to go out into the wide, open space of the classroom that had been
cleared for them to practice.

Hadrian stayed sitting a while longer, watching as the Slytherins slid over to their private areas,
whilst the Gryffindors grouped together. He saw the worry etched on his Housemates faces,
probably worried as well that they would get maggots.

Again, it was Tom that drew his attention. He was furthest away from everyone, lips pressed
together and looking down at his wand.

He closed his book and made the decision to walk over to Riddle. Cinnamon eyes flickered to him,
but the boy did not say anything. Hadrian stood next to him.

“It took me a while to cast a Patronus. I went for the memory of riding my broom for the first time
but it was nowhere near strong enough.” Hadrian paused, looking down at his wand. “Then
different ones but none as strong as I needed. Half of it is self-confidence you can pull it off, just
knowing without a doubt. Then, the other half is the strongest and happiest memory. But no one
seems to understand how difficult it is for orphans to have nice memories.” He raised his wand,
knowing Riddle was listening. “I chose the memory of leaving the Dursleys, finally finding out that
I wasn’t a freak.”

Hadrian began to circle with his wand, focusing his mind. But when he uttered the spell, nothing
happened. No maggots did either.

“I take it that was supposed to be a Patronus,” Tom drawled.

He frowned. “Maybe that memory is not as strong as it once was.” Hadrian rocked back on his
heels, scratching his chin with his other hand. There was one memory that kept repeating in his
mind, time and time again. His cheeks heated with the images that raced through his mind, but he
focused on the sensations that it elicited.

“ Expecto Patronum,” he said, jutting his wand out. Hadrian gasped as the energy zapped through
his body and a huge, silvery dragon burst from the end.

Then laughter bubbled out of his mouth, relief making his eyes sting. No maggots. His Patronus
remained. Hadrian watched with a grin as the whole class stopped and watched the beautiful beast
soar across the top of the classroom before it swooped down to land in front of Riddle.
Tom’s hand twitched, as if he wanted to touch it. Hadrian’s eyes met his, and then he felt a too
familiar probe at the front of his mind. The image of his back up against the glass flitted through
his mind, the mouth on his before trailing down his neck...biting...sucking.

Hadrian shoved Riddle out, his eyes wide and horrified as Tom’s mouth curved into a sinister
smile. “How dare you-”

The Patronus was gone.

“Mr Peverell,” Dumbledore said, walking over. His robes were clashing shades of lilac and
mustard yellow, rustling as he approached. The older wizard’s face was unreadable. “I have never
seen such a fully-formed Patronus by someone your age.”

Hadrian tore his eyes from Tom. “My tutor taught me after I had some troubles with dementors
when I was thirteen.”

“Thirteen?” Dumbledore stroked his beard. “How interesting. Could you help your peers?”

He rocked on his feet. “Uh, sure.” Frowning, he watched as Dumbledore whisked over to his desk
and started to scribble down something on some parchment. Did Dumbledore have notes on him?
Perhaps his Invisibility Cloak needed to make an appearance...but then the wizard had always
seemed to sense Hadrian under it.

“That was really amazing,” Cassius said as he came over.

Hadrian offered a faint smile, turning his attention over to the handsome blonde. “Thanks.”

“Could you help me?”

“Sure.” Hadrian turned into his teaching mode that he had used with the DA. “Take a good
posture...yes.” He raised his hands, placing them on Cassius’ shoulders to pull them back,
straightening his back. “Be aware you will not cast a full Patronus your first time, it may be a wisp
or a shield. Have you got a memory?”

Suddenly, Hadrian felt the energy of the classroom shift. He spun around, just as Tom raised his
wand and uttered: “ Expecto Patronum .”

He expected nothing from Riddle, nothing because Riddle only knew darkness...not happiness. At
most, if it did work, maybe a dribble of a non-corporeal Patronus with his first time. But no.

Hadrian’s mouth fell open as a large serpent flew from the tip of the yew wand. It did not fly across
the classroom, but instead slithered over to Hadrian, circling him as if eyeing him up as prey.
Hadrian did not look at the snake, but at Tom’s triumphant face. And something broke within him.
He felt his throat close up. Tom had a happy memory. Although curiosity burned within Hadrian on
what that memory was, he found himself offering a proud smile towards the other Slytherin.

The snake disappeared into a silvery mist, and Hadrian closed the distance between them
(forgetting his work with Cassius). Those wine-coloured eyes followed his movements.

“Tom, that was…” He trailed off, unsure of what word was strong enough.

“Are you still angry with me?”

The words were soft and quiet, only for Hadrian’s ears. Angry? Riddle had invaded his mind
without permission, and seen the embarrassing memory that his subconscious deemed to be one of
his happiest. However, Tom had created a fully-formed Patronus, and the hope Hadrian had now
was stronger than any other emotion he could summon.

“No. Well done.” Hadrian gave him a broad smile. “I don’t want you to do that again to me...those
are my memories to offer, not to take. But I am proud of you.”

Something flickered in Tom’s expression before his eyes shot up to look behind Hadrian.

“Mr Riddle.” Dumbledore.

“Yes, Professor Dumbledore?” Tom’s mouth slid into a smug smile, his wand hanging loosely
from his grip.

“What a wonderful job both of you have done.”

Hadrian could barely hide his own smile as he watched Dumbledore give grudging praise to
Riddle. The rest of the class were chatting amongst themselves, eyeing Tom and Hadrian whilst
their House looked on at them both with admiration and respect.

***

Everyone had been abuzz with the rumours that Tom and Hadrian had conjured full Patronuses in
Defense. Throughout dinner, the Slytherins recounted the look on Dumbledore’s face and
grumbled about how he had not even offered them any house points for the spectacles of magic.
Tom had soaked up the attention and Hadrian just found himself smiling.

Not only was it a myth about the whole maggots, but Riddle had managed to find something to be
happy about. Although, he felt wary about what memory the other boy did choose. Was it the death
of his family, like he had seen in their shared dream/memory? Or was it realising how powerful he
was in the future? Hadrian still did not like the idea of Riddle seeing the memory he had used,
especially because it involved Tom directly. When had that become such a positive memory for
him?

Hadrian knocked on the door to the Defense classroom an hour after dinner. He had brought his
homework with him, like the note required him to.

“Enter.”

He opened and closed the door behind him. Dumbledore stood by a window, looking down over
the grounds as the sun set in the distance. One of his hands smoothed down his beard, but his eyes
did not leave the sight.

“Sit down, Mr Peverell, and you may begin on your homework.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Hadrian took his usual desk and began to work on his Herbology
essay draft. Draft . Months after being here, he still marvelled at the idea of drafting his work. His
grades had climbed up from just above average, to matching those of Abraxas, in all of his
subjects. The only one consistently higher was Tom, but he just seemed to absorb knowledge. Not
getting involved with Quidditch was one way he was clawing back time, along with studying
whilst helping Riddle.
An hour later, Hadrian paused to read through his work and make amendments. Lost in his own
world, he had not been aware that Dumbledore had moved back to sit at his desk.

“Mr Peverell.”

Emerald eyes rose. He blinked, placing down the essay. “Yes, Sir?”

“I have found myself replaying our last lengthy interaction in my head many times; the time you
sought me out in my Office for information about Gellert Grindelwald.” Dumbledore’s hands were
clasped together on his desk, his light blue eyes studying the raven-haired boy opposite. “I am
fearful that I am watching an echo of time...a portentous reflection.”

Hadrian frowned. “I don’t understand, Sir.”

“How much do you know about the tragic events which unfolded last year?” Dumbledore
enquired. “Sherbert lemon?” He offered a bowl out.

“No, thank you.” Hadrian rested back in the wooden chair. “You mean the death of Myrtle
Warren? Was she not killed by an acromantula?” He forced his face into impassivity, knowing that
was the story of ‘truth’ believed by everyone but Dumbledore. Hagrid was innocent. He knew that
and loved Hagrid, but the half-Giant also did have a terrible habit of bringing very dangerous
creatures into the school.

“An acromantula was discovered in school.”

“I see.” He shrugged. “I do not understand what this has to do with me, Professor.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Do you remember me telling you that Grindelwald draws people in by
making them feel special, but he holds them in contempt?”

“Yes, Sir.” He rested back in the wooden chair.

“You have to be careful who you give your trust too, Mr Peverell. Some will use the power you
wield, for their own advantages.”

He smiled softly. “Are you trying to warn me about Tom?”

Dumbledore stared back at him. “Tom is a very good student, a powerful wizard. Sometimes, that
power can be too addictive and can get out of control. You could be a challenge to him.”

Hadrian’s fingers played with the end of the quill on his desk. “You are powerful, Sir. Do you
speak from experience?” He inwardly smirked at the slight widening of the older man’s eyes.

The Deputy Headmaster unwrapped a sherbert lemon, discarding the paper wrapper next to the
delicate glass bowl. “In my youth, I allowed power to get to me, reel me in. You know of my...old
friend. He is persuasive in his vernacular.”

“Everyone expects you to get rid of him.”

Dumbledore popped the sweet into his mouth. “It is easier for people to put the responsibility of
someone’s demise onto someone else. It makes it easier for them to come to terms with death.”

“But you said that he can be redeemed. You do not plan to kill him.” Hadrian’s hand twitched with
the older man’s words. Oh, they were so true, and Dumbledore fell victim to the same systems he
was chastising others for. It was easier to position Harry to kill Voldemort. Less blood on his
hands.

“You are unhappy with that?”

His eyes flashed up, mouth pulling taut. “You do not offer Tom the same redemption that you so
freely give to Grindelwald, who has killed so many. I find that hypocritical.” He shifted in his chair
and watched almost with satisfaction as an uncomfortable expression wormed its way onto
Dumbledore’s face. “You seem more scared of a seventeen-year-old boy than a god-knows-how-
old megalomaniac.”

The Professor was silent for a while, and he studied Hadrian. “I see much of Grindelwald within
him.”

Hadrian’s upper lip curled. “And yet you befriended Grindelwald after he was thrown out of
Durmstrang for Dark magic. You believed in him. You both shared ideologies, at least for a while.
And you are trying to tell me to be careful, and warn me about Tom?” He shook his head. “Have
you considered the damage you have done as the first member of the magical community to meet
Tom? You offer an orphan no insight into his family, who has believed he is a ‘freak’ all of his life.
No words of comfort or encouragement. Instead, you reveal him to be a thief; in an existence where
nothing has ever been his. No childhood toys, or books favoured by his mother or father. He asks
you about speaking to snakes, and you offer him your judgement and silence. His years at
Hogwarts, seeking to please and find home. You offer him distance and scrutiny.”

He sat there, after the words poured from his mouth, his body trembling. It was too late to
withdraw those words. It was too late to weigh up the consequences over revealing that much
information. Information he should not really know. Of course, Dumbledore would put Hadrian’s
accusations down to what Tom had told him, from Tom’s perspective. But that did not mean it was
not right.

The most amazing thing was that Dumbledore was speechless. What could one say back to that?
Reject it? Discipline him for speaking out of turn?

“Go back to your Common Room, Hadrian.” There was a weariness that he had never heard in the
future-Headmaster’s voice, tinged with something Hadrian could not quite put his finger on -
regret, confusion? Maybe a mixture of both.

Hadrian packed up his things and hesitated before leaving. Dumbledore was staring thoughtfully
into a clear, crystal ball on the edge of his desk.

“Sir?” Those blue eyes did not rise to meet his. Hadrian shifted awkwardly. “I am sorry if I have
spoken out of turn. I understand where your concern comes from. But...if we don’t offer those who
are lost, a little bit of light, what hope is there?”

With that, he left.

 Chapter 28
Chapter Notes

Warning: The Explicit rating comes into effect from this chapter onwards.

Thank you all for the amazing comments and support along the way. The Hufflepuff
girls definitely represent us Harry/Tom shippers, and this is a dedication to you all.
This is a pause in all of the seriousness and I hope you all like it.

A lot of you are wondering what is going on in Tom's mind, and I would say - a lot. A
lot is going on, and you will be in on the action...just not yet.

We are getting to a very big moment...and I am nervous with the risk! I just hope it
pays off and continues to be the fiction you like!

To say his head was a mess, was an understatement. Yesterday, the detention with Dumbledore
had taken a bizarre turn of events, where it seemed as if he had forced the older wizard to
reevaluate his actions in regards to Tom. Of course, he could not tell Tom what had happened. Tom
would deny that was how he felt - abandoned, vulnerable and in need of love. Hadrian could see it.
He had felt it himself... still felt it.

However, there were doubts plaguing his mind. Did he say too much? Did he let anything slip that
would make Dumbledore suspicious? The guilt and fear ate at his stomach.

Hadrian also had his mind on bigger things than the current curriculum. Binns was droning on
about another bloody Goblin war, so it allowed him to focus on the next issue on his growing list.
Friday was the Ministry function.

He did not trust Tom not to do something to ‘incapacitate’ him into not being there Friday. His
guard needed to be up.

That was why he had been late to the lesson, and had slid into a desk at the front of the room,
where the Hufflepuffs had gathered. He had received odd looks all around, but he simply got out a
book he had fished out from the Restricted Section this morning, under the guise of his Cloak, and
started to read it. Hermione would have given him such a disappointed look at his behaviour, even
though she knew how boring Binns was. Ron, would just be confused why Harry wasn’t using the
time to sleep, instead of reading . A pang of loss rang deep in his chest at the memories of his
friends.

He never even said ‘goodbye’. Maybe the time line had not changed that much. Maybe…
Hadrian’s shoulders straightened at the ‘what if’ thoughts going through his head. It was useless.
He was here now, in 1944. That was the current situation. But he could hope that the future ‘Harry
Potter’ born, would still find his two friends.

Half an hour into the lesson, Hadrian had scribbled a page of notes. A lot of it was on protective
charms, but this was for the mind. If Grindelwald did make an appearance, then his mind needed to
be absolutely rock tight. Dumbledore was an expert Legilimens. Grindelwald possibly would be
too. The thing keeping him safe at Hogwarts, was that Dumbledore was a respectable Professor
who would/could not enter a student’s mind without serious repercussions. If Grindelwald found
out he was from the future...or anything about that...it would be a disaster. However, his want for
the Elder Wand was a stronger pull than any preservation about the future. The image of Death still
haunted his dreams. He still felt the chill in his lungs from the appearance of the dark specter. He
had too much to do in this time period, to allow a curious spirit to whisk him away from it all.
Death itself, he did not fear...but the representation of it was awful.

Defeating Grindelwald may be his only chance of getting the Elder Wand. There was no way he
would be able to ‘win’ it from Dumbledore. Grindelwald was a bit more unhinged, and Hadrian
was an unknown.

Something hit his leg and fell to the ground. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him.

Hadrian snatched the folded piece of parchment up, just as it seemed to be on its way again. Should
he try and find its owner? His eyes flickered over the Hufflepuffs, but no one was looking at him.

He unfolded the letter, taking note of a quiet whimper he heard somewhere behind him.

‘My sister said that Tom stopped Hadrian from falling down the stairs the other day.’ The
handwriting was very neat, the ink charmed with blue glitter.

Hadrian froze on the first line of the scribbled conversation. What the hell?

‘Oh Merlin, how romantic! I wish I had seen it!’ A different coloured ink - pink.

‘Do you think they have had an argument? Why is he not sitting with Tom?’

‘They argue a lot. They are such passionate people. Imagine the kissing…’

‘Tom has not taken his eyes off Hadrian all lesson. He is pining. Hard.’

His eyes were huge as he drank in the words on the parchment. Some Hufflepuffs thought that Tom
and he were in a relationship? Did the Slytherins? Tom had told Dippet and Dumbledore they were
for their cover, but in a private conversation. Unless the portraits had been gossiping again.
Hadrian’s cheeks were hot and his stomach was churning at the written notes. The idea of Tom
staring at him all through the lesson…

The notes continued…

‘Poor Tom (unless he is the reason Hadrian is upset!). I swear, last night I could still feel their
magic tingling all around me from the play.’

‘I bet you could! Anyway, that girl I know in Slytherin? She said that they are not ‘out’ with their
relationship. Either, they are keeping it a secret or they are not actually together yet! From what
she has told me...I think it is the latter!’

There was a shocked face drawing in pink ink, then: ‘No way! Are they blind? They clearly fancy
the pants off each other.’ ‘Pants’ had a multitude of lines scribbled underneath.

Hadrian screwed the note up in his hand, having gotten to the end of the transactions between the
Hufflepuffs. He swallowed hard and his face burned. People were gossiping about the nature of his
and Tom’s relationship? It really was not that interesting. At all.

Besides, he did not fancy the pants off Riddle. Riddle and his stupidly perfectly coiffed hair...and
stupidly soft lips…and that delicious, dark spicy scent he had... Hadrian closed his eyes. This was
bad. Dumbledore had warned him that people like Tom pulled others into his orbit with good looks
and power. It was all a game to him. It kept people in line, wanting to please him. He could not
afford to fall too deep into Riddle’s hands, unless he wanted the agony of heartbreak.

Perhaps he should focus his attention on something else or someone else. Cassius? He missed the
warmth of his friend. His mind drifted to when they had laid together on Hadrian’s bed. There was
no way he could imagine Tom doing that to him. Regardless, he could not string Cassius along, not
when any relationship between them could only be casual and with a time limit. It was not fair to
either of them.

Hadrian sniffed, eyes flicking up to Binns whose ghostly eyelid were half closed, as if his own
ramblings were sending him to sleep. He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his book,
although this time he was hyper-aware of the Hufflepuffs surrounding him.

***

“Walk with me.”

Hadrian sighed, eyes gravitating to Tom. “I have detention soon.” His stomach was lightly full with
dinner, and he just wanted to mentally prepare himself for the next round of Dumbledore’s
questioning.

“It won’t take long, and I will make sure you get there on time.” Tom’s face was an impassive
mask, as he stood by the bench of the Slytherin table.

His mouth twisted and he got to his feet. They both walked out of the Hall, Hadrian matching
Tom’s pace, even though the other Slytherin’s legs were longer. Emerging out into the Entrance
Hall, they were about to walk out into the Grounds when a gasping noise brought their steps to a
halt.

A red-faced girl had her eyes wide and fearful. She was gasping in deep breaths like she had been
running for a while. “Please, my friend! Quick!”

Tom quirked an eyebrow. “Get a Professor.”

As her eyes brimmed with tears, Hadrian gave Tom a quick glare. “What is it?”

“A snake!”

Tom whisked off in the direction the young girl had come from and Hadrian followed after. The
girl caught up and started to run on ahead, her ginger curls bouncing at her back. Hadrian looked
up at Tom’s pale face when he caught up.

“Do you think it is Una?” he asked.

“I hope not. Best case scenario is Onyx,” Riddle hissed back. “But he should know better than to
terrorise students.”

They were in the area of the disused classrooms, passing the portrait of the beautiful mermaids and
mermen. The girl stopped at an open door, stepping away from it in fear.
Riddle frowned. “A cupboard?”

Hadrian came between them. “Is your friend inside?”

She tearfully nodded her head. “There was a hiss and something took her. I think I saw a snake.
You both can help her right? You both speak Parseltongue.”

“Everything will be fine. Just stay here,” Hadrian replied, trying to placate the stressed student. He
took his wand, casting a wordless ‘ Lumos ’ before entering.

It was a cupboard, with some brooms stashed in the corner and some cleaning products on the
shelves. A thin table against the wall. Some candles and matches. Metal handcuffs attached to the
wall? It did not take him long to reach the back, where there was just a stone wall. He pressed a
hand to it.

Hadrian released an embarrassingly high pitched noise as something brushed him. He whipped
around to see Riddle behind him. “What are you doing, sneaking up on me like that?” he hissed.

Tom opened his mouth to answer but the door suddenly slammed behind them. He released a
disgruntled noise, striding over in the dark to try the door knob. Nothing happened. Riddle knocked
on the door. No answer. Suddenly, Hadrian’s wand stopped glowing and everything plunged into
darkness.

“Can you open the door?” Tom asked, seemingly trying to communicate with the girl outside.

Hadrian was trying to get his wand to work but nothing was happening. Then, they both froze at
the sound of more than one voice outside.

“...wasn’t supposed to do that!” came one high, scared voice.

“Where did you even find that spell?” another girl asked.

“It was in one of my auntie’s books...one I stole from her ‘special’ section. Oh Merlin, what if they
are stuck there forever?” This girl’s voice was getting steadily more panicked.

Hadrian clenched his teeth. He strode over to the door, pushing back Riddle in the dark. Thumping
on the door with his fist, he said, “Let us out, now!”

There was silence. Then: “Oh we are so sorry! We just wanted you to make up!” The girl pretty
much sobbed out the statement. The door handle rattled and rattled - from the girls on the other
side - and many unlocking charms were tried. But nothing.

“We are going to get help!” was heard, before there was silence out the door.

Hadrian’s heart was echoing in his ears as both of them stood in the thick darkness of the broom
cupboard. He pinched his nose and cursed himself. “I am such an idiot .”

“I think this would make us both the idiots,” Tom’s voice drawled behind him.

“No, I am. They were bloody Hufflepufss! They have an obsession with us.”

“What?” There was a slight inflection of disbelief in his voice.

“I caught a note in History of Magic this morning. Apparently, they - and others - are under the
illusion that we are in a relationship.” Hadrian was so glad that it was dark, and that the other boy
could not see the colour rising in his face. “They were sad that it looked like we had an argument.”
“But those girls who did this were fifth years, or at least one was.”

“This obsession seems to have spread. A girl talked about how her sister was saying how you
‘saved’ my life on the staircase the other day. It is ridiculous.”

“So, that is what they meant by getting us to ‘make up’?”

Riddle’s tone was unreadable. Hadrian just made an affirmative noise.

“My magic is not working.”

“Neither is mine,” Hadrian sighed. “I think there are some candles about.” He blindly reached out
for where he knew the shelves were. There was a distinct dusty and disused smell that sunk into his
nostrils like an unwanted perfume. He wrinkled his nose, hands hitting the shelves and he counted
them before feeling across where he had seen the candles and matches on the second shelf. When
his hands closed around the thick, wax bodies of the candles, he withdrew one.

“Hold this,” Hadrian said, offering the candle to the darkness.

There was a rustling of robes before the candle was taken from his hands. Hadrian next plucked
the box of matches, half-surprised to see something so Muggle. Then again, Mr Pringle, the
Caretaker was a Squib and would need items like this. It took a few attempts to grasp a matchstick
out of the tub. He located the rough patch on the side of the box and ignited the first match.

Ablaze, he could see flickers of Tom’s irritated face as he drew the flame closer to the other boy -
guiding it down to the candle in his hands. It took them ten minutes to light all of the candles, and
place them on the thin desk next to the wall. They had pushed them up against the wall and
discarded their school robes, as to reduce the possibility of setting fire to anything - including
themselves. All of the candles threw enough light to see each other and a bit of the surrounding
cupboard. It was small, enough to fit maybe five people. Tom had been silent throughout the whole
process.

There was a sudden knock on the door. “Mr Riddle? Mr Peverell?” Dippet.

“Yes, we are in here,” Hadrian called. “Can you let us out?”

A pause. “We are working on it. A small group of students, with good intentions, have used a spell
unknown to us.” Another pause. “We are going to try and contact the student’s aunt for the book in
which it came from.”

Hadrian grimaced. “We can’t use magic. But we have some candles lit.”

“Yes, yes...well, make yourselves comfortable. This could take a little while, but we will be
working on getting you out.”

Hadrian’s eyes widened as he heard footsteps moving away. “Hello? Dippet? Hello? Anybody?”

Nothing.

“Fucking hell.” Hadrian spun around, yanking a hand through his hair. “This is ridiculous.”

Riddle moved over to the shelves and looked at the cleaning solutions, then at the brooms. He then
moved to the back of the cupboard, nearest to the candles and leant on the wall. His arms crossed
over his chest. “We should use this time to talk.”
Hadrian watched the candle light flicker across the handsome planes of the other boy’s face,
casting shadows in the hollows. “About what?”

“You, avoiding me. What did Dumbledore say to you?” Tom’s eyes were dark and heavy. “Did he
say how bad I was? How you should keep away? Did it scare you?”

He looked away. “I don’t want to talk about this, Riddle.”

“Back to my last name again? I think the old coot did a number on you,” Riddle sneered.

Hadrian eyed the Heir of Slytherin and felt his irritation flee his body. Of course Tom would be
paranoid. This was a boy whose first experience with the wizarding world was Albus Dumbledore,
who judged him forever for stealing some trinkets. “He tried to warn me about you...but I know
you more than he does. Dumbledore tried to use the lessons he had learnt from his relationship with
Grindelwald, but...it did not go his way.”

“Show me?”

Hadrian raised an eyebrow. “If you had not noticed, no magic.” He gestured to the closet around
them.

“Let me try.”

He took a step back. “I don’t think you would want to see it.”

Riddle moved away from the wall, eyes glimmering. “Why? How do I know you are not just
feeding Dumbledore information about me?”

Hadrian’s chin jutted up. “You bastard. You accuse me of lying? I have shown you my entire
experiences with you in the future.” He switched to Parseltongue. “I killed a man in front of you. I
took a huge risk by allowing you to see the future.”

“Oh, Hadrian, you have gifted me with much more than that,” Riddle purred as he moved closer. “I
apologise for accusing you...but I would still like to see, to see you put Dumbledore in his place.”

His breath caught in the back of his throat and his scar warmed with the other boy’s close
proximity. “Tom…”

Fingertips took his chin, holding him in place. “Can I?”

Hadrian’s tongue swiped out to wet his bottom lip. “Yes...but it won’t work, Tom,” he breathed,
watching as Riddle’s cinnamon eyes dropped to track the movement of his tongue.

There was a slight twitch in his mind and then...everything from the detention played like a series
of quick images in his brain. Hadrian re-watched as Dumbledore stopped his detention...the
warning about Tom...then Hadrian taking control of the conversation...Dumbledore’s silence…

“How?” Hadrian rasped, as Tom withdrew from his mind. “No magic.”

Tom’s eyes searched his. “I am not a victim, Hadrian.”

He swallowed. “I know, but we both suffered. We were both left in a judgemental, Muggle world.
Dumbledore needed to know his mistakes. But how? How did that work?”

Another hand came up to brush against his scar. A tremble slid down the smaller male’s back. “We
share something deeper, which allows us to dream...see into each other’s minds. Beyond normal
magic,” Riddle breathed. “Because you are mine.”

Before Hadrian could ask, or say anything - a mouth took his. It was not soft. Their lips parted
instantly and their tongues slid against each other. It was hot...demanding… Hadrian’s hands
gripped Riddle’s robes, tethering him to the other Slytherin.

Tom’s hands left Hadrian’s face, drifting down to his hips, pushing him backwards. A gasp
tumbled from the emerald-eyed boy as his back hit the door, Riddle’s mouth kissing upwards to his
ear.

“I saw you that night.” A small bite to his earlobe elicited another shudder from him. “You
watched me in that classroom.”

Hadrian drew in a rough breath as the memory flew through his mind of that Ravenclaw on his
knees, in front of Tom. Tom’s head back, face bathed in moonlight… His stomach pooled with
heat, and something else. Jealousy? He turned his head and captured Tom’s mouth again. It was a
fierce fight of domination. At one point, Hadrian was sure he could taste blood but he did not care.
He drew his hands up and threaded them through Tom’s perfect hair, mussing it as he anchored his
mouth to the other Slytherin’s.

With a hiss, Tom tore his mouth away and his bit down on Hadrian’s lower lip, extracting a
whimper from the smaller male. He then sucked gently on the abused flesh, and Hadrian’s grip
lessened on his hair.

Hadrian’s head spun, but when Riddle started to kiss down his face, jaw and then down to his
neck...he shoved the other male away. A spark of satisfaction ignited in his gut at the rumpled look
of the usually stoic-looking Tom - dark hair ruffled and lips reddened from their kissing.

“No,” Hadrian rasped. “You are not just putting hickeys on my neck to embarrass me again.”

Despite Hadrian’s words, Tom’s lips curved up in a smile. “Oh, Hadrian , they are never there to
embarrass you.” He stepped closer again, staring down at the smaller male as he stroked a finger
down the pale, slender column of his neck.

Hadrian swallowed before forcing out a laugh. “Yeah, right.” He averted his eyes, not able to look
into those brown-red eyes that were fiery coals in the darkness.

“I am just laying claim to what is mine.”

“I am no one’s.”

A kiss was placed on his neck, right over the pulse of his jugular. “Mine.”

He gave a disgruntled noise, barging past Tom to storm over to the back of the small cupboard,
nearer to the candles. “Stop playing games with me Tom. They may work on your Followers, but
not me.”

Tom was shadowed in darkness, the light only reaching parts of his face and his loose, white shirt.
“No games are being played, Hadrian.”

“Then what is this?” he bit out. “I am prophesied to kill you; we are enemies in the future. I don’t
get why you…” he trailed off, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Why I kiss you? Why I mark you? Why no one else is allowed near you?” Tom stepped closer
with each question, and Hadrian was trapped at the back of the cupboard. The taller Slytherin lifted
a hand, smoothing raven hair away from the younger male’s forehead. He leant down and pressed
a kiss to the lightning bolt.

The cry tumbled from Hadrian’s lips before he could stop it. His nerves were suddenly molten fire,
tingling all the way down to his groin. What caused him pain to rival the Cruciatus Curse in the
future, now caused the complete opposite reaction. He gasped in a shaking breath as he felt his
magic core straining to merge with Tom’s. Despite not being able to cast anything, their magic
swirled in the space between them.

“This is why,” Riddle breathed in his ear. “Your magic.” A pause. “Our magic.” Another pause as
a kiss was pressed to his jaw. “How everything seems more real ever since you arrived.”

“I can’t do this,” Hadrian uttered, emerald eyes wide and staring into darkened cinnamon.

“Why not?” A kiss to the side of his mouth.

“This isn’t the way things are supposed to be.”

“No? You changed that when you came here, Hadrian,” Riddle whispered. Another kiss to the
other side of his mouth. “Every part of me demands that you are mine. Tell me that you do not feel
the same.”

He grabbed Tom’s shirt and pulled him close. Their mouths smashed together in another fierce
battle for control. Tom used his weight to press the smaller male into the wall to the side of them,
his hands taking Hadrian’s and pinning them above his head. The movement dislodged a moan
from Hadrian, which was greedily swallowed by the other Slytherin before Tom’s hips surged
forward, grinding their erections together.

“Fuck,” Hadrian gasped out, tearing his mouth away for air. His head hit the stone wall behind
him, causing shards of pain to mix with the pleasure. He lifted his hips up in response, meeting
Tom’s hardness as he struggled against the hands that pinned his to the wall. All he wanted to do
was touch…

Riddle’s mouth withdrew, and it pleased Hadrian to see the other male breathing heavily, his eyes
heavy. “What do you want, Hadrian?” he purred.

Avada Kedavra eyes flashed at him. “You know what I want.”

Tom smiled, sliding his lower body against his, drawing a moan from the smaller male. “I want to
hear it from you. I want to hear you beg for it.”

Hadrian squirmed, moving his arms to try and shove him off. However, a thigh slid between his
and raised, pressing against his throbbing erection. All of his senses zeroed in on that area as
Riddle’s thigh rhythmically pressed against him, coaxing more sounds from him. He bit down on
his lower lip to try and stifle them. But then he felt something cold against his wrists and Tom
completely withdrew.

“What?” Hadrian’s eyes were wide as he tried to move his hands, but they were cuffed, the metal’s
iciness biting into his skin. He looked up to see that he was chained to the Victorianesque shackles.
Pulling at them, they gave no sign of releasing him, so he turned his glare to Tom. “What are you
doing?” he hissed. “Get these off me.”

Riddle’s lips were still curled up in that infuriating smile. “There does not seem to be a key.”

He froze, mouth opening and then closing before he glanced at the door. “Riddle - Tom,” he
corrected. “What if someone comes in? There has to be a key.”

Tom hummed, deep in his throat, eyes running down Hadrian’s prone body. “When the door opens,
our magic returns.” He stepped closer once more, just so that their clothes grazed. “I promise that
you will be released then.”

Hadrian shook his head. “What if it takes all night? Tom!” Panic tore into his voice.

A pale hand rose, brushing Hadrian’s jaw before cupping it lightly. “Trust me.”

“Trust you?” But Hadrian made a choked sound as Riddle slotted between his thighs again,
pressing against his groin, which still ached despite the irritation he felt about the handcuffs. That
strong thigh rubbed up against him, and all anger about the situation started to fade away, blurring
into frustration.

Lips pressed, hot, against his neck before pain exploded as Riddle bit down. Hadrian’s body
bucked in protest as a hoarse cry escaped him, but it brought his erection against Tom’s leg causing
a confusing mix of pain and ecstasy. In response, the taller male sucked the flesh between his teeth
and rhythmically rolled his leg against Hadrian’s groin.

Hadrian squeezed his eyes shut. His senses were a jumbled mess as the pain of Tom’s bite
throbbed down to his trousers, where he was desperate for even more friction than what he was
getting.

“Please,” he breathed as Tom gently pressed his tongue against the bite.

“Please, what?”

“Tom,” he keened.

“Does this hurt?” A kiss pressed to the sore bite wound.

Hadrian whimpered at the pain, trying to move his head away. However, as he did so, fingers
skimmed his scar, and his body bloomed with warmth and satisfaction. Tom gave a firm lick to his
neck, shards of pain slicing through the pleasure.

“Stop,” he uttered.

“Mr Peverell? Mr Riddle?” Dumbledore.

Hadrian’s eyes grew ridiculously wide as he saw Tom frown in the half-darkness. What a cock-
block. He groaned, pulling at the manacles on his wrists.

“Yes, Sir?” Riddle replied, voice steady and infuriatingly unaffected.

“Are you both clear from the door? I believe I may know the counter-curse,” came the reply.

Tom looked at Hadrian. “Give us a minute, Sir.”

At the silence that followed, Tom’s finger floated across Hadrian’s cheekbone. “I meant my
promise. No one will see you like this but me.”

“You bit me,” Hadrian hissed.

“Did you like it?”

Emerald eyes flickered away.

Riddle smiled. “In this relationship, I expect answers when I ask for them. If you want
completion...you will have to beg for it,” he whispered.

“You’re a sadist,” Hadrian bit out quietly.

“Yes, we both know that.” Tom took out his wand as he pressed a surprisingly soft kiss on
Hadrian’s lips. “All right Sir, we are ready.”

Hadrian felt magic shift and Tom’s rise instantly in response. His arms fell down to his sides as the
spell was released. A gasp flew from his mouth at the aching sensation from the uncomfortable
position. As the door opened, Riddle handed Hadrian his robes, giving the smaller male privacy to
his slowly wilting erection.

Dumbledore stood in the doorway, blue eyes regarding them both as Tom smoothed down his hair.
Hadrian flushed a deep red, knowing that his hair was still in disarray and they both looked
dishevelled.

“Come along, the both of you,” the Deputy Headmaster said. “Let us see Professor Dippet and give
the good news.” He spun on his heel and started to walk down the corridor.

Riddle stepped back, allowing Hadrian to go first. They fell into step and silence. Hadrian’s
thoughts swirled in his head. What had Tom meant by ‘in this relationship’? Luckily, his body had
calmed down as he shrugged his robes on. Tom had done the same, and was back to being
elegantly put together and handsome. As Hadrian’s hand fluttered up to pressed against his neck, it
was caught and drawn down.

Tom did not let go. They walked after Dumbledore, holding hands. Hadrian’s heart thumped in his
chest, especially when others stopped to look.

“Do not heal it,” Tom requested in parseltongue.

“Why not? It hurts.”

His hand was squeezed lightly. “Because I like the reminder? Don’t you?”

A sharp tingle travelled from the bite all the way down to his groin as he twisted his neck. “ I don’t
want everyone else to see.”

Tom muttered something under his breath, and Hadrian jumped as fur grew out of his collar, robes
transfiguring into winter ones. He glared at the taller male at the unannounced use of magic, but he
was glad that his neck was more hidden. Did he like the reminder? He did. There had been pain at
the Dursleys, pain at the Ministry when Sirius had died, pain as Crucio was used on him...but
never had been so mixed with something good. His attention moved to their joined hands. Tom’s
hand was soft and cool in his. He had never held hands with someone before. His eyes flickered up
to Tom, whose breath-takingly handsome face was schooled into his usual neutral expression as
they approached Dippet’s Office.

Dumbledore said the password and ushered the two of them in.

Inside the Office, three fifth year Hufflepuffs were standing to the left, faces blotchy and red.
Dippet was standing at his fireplace, the flames green as he attempted to communicate through
Floo.
All of those faces swung to face the three as they entered.

“Armando, I remembered the counter-curse,” Dumbledore said. “I believe the book was written by
Helga Hyslop - a bit of a cult classic until everyone realised how Dark the magic was.”

Dippet’s mouth pressed into a line. “Yes, well, the girls are well aware of the consequences to their
actions. Thank you Albus. Mr Riddle and Mr Peverell, I trust you are in good health?”

“Yes, Sir,” Tom answered.

“Then, Mr Riddle, return to your evening,” Dumbledore replied. “Mr Peverell, we shall attend to
your detention.”

He had forgotten all about that. Hadrian grimaced. Before he could say anything, Dippet cleared
his throat.

“Albus, let him go for this evening. Both of them have been through a traumatic experience. Plus,
we need to deal with these young ladies.” His eyes were heavy as they regarded the Slytherins.

Hadrian breathed in relief, and he regarded the elderly Headteacher. “Thank you, Sir.” Dumbledore
did not look happy with the man’s decision but said nothing as both of them left before the decision
was revoked.

As they left the Office, Hadrian took note that Tom still held his hand. It was not just for
Dumbledore and Dippet. Nevertheless, his stomach churned as they walked away and he paused as
a wave of tiredness overcame him.

“Hadrian?”

“I’m really tired,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes.

“Come, let’s go to the Common room. You have had a traumatic time,” Tom said softly.

He gave a half-hearted glare. “Mostly because of you.”

“Which we shall discuss more tomorrow, when I have all of your attention.”

They ambled down the moving staircases to the ground floor again. “Tom...what is this?” he said,
tone heavy.

“I have already stated. Be aware though, Hadrian, I do not share what is mine.”

Hadrian pulled his hand away, raising an eyebrow at the taller Slytherin. “I am no one’s.”

Tom simply gave a smile. “You know that is not true.”

They descended into the dungeons and Hadrian decided to go straight to bed, leaving Tom to work
on his studies with their friends. He took time to shower, to give him some relief after the incident
in the cupboard and then inspected the mark on his neck. There was a circle of reddish-purple teeth
marks that was already bruising. He did not heal it. Touching it was very painful, but the memories
it brought up… He got changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed, descending into a world of
dreams.
 Chapter 29
Chapter Notes

Important note: I have said this before, but this may help with the chapter, that I am
not including anything from the Fantastic Beasts series. So, don't expect any familiar
characters from that area of the fandom. Sorry if that is disappointing!

Thank you all so much for the support and for the wonderful comments! I hope you
enjoy the chapter...I must admit, it was probably the hardest to write so far.

A bigger note at the end!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

As they emerged from the Floo, Hadrian’s eyes flitted to the immediate surroundings. It was a
hallway with too many dark corners. Three other fireplaces stood next to their one, and another
flared to life with green fire - two people dressed in elaborate robes emerging. Without a glance in
their direction, they strode past with their pointy chins held up.

“Come along, Hadrian,” Slughorn said, as he tapped a large hand on his stomach.

Emerald eyes flicked to Tom, who was already moving beside the Professor in the direction of the
music and smell of food. Hadrian’s mouth twisted and he fiddled with the high collar of his tight
robes. The corridor was long, all pale stonework and sconces. The Ministry had not wanted to hold
the event at the workplace and instead were offered the Selwyn estate to host the bash. It was an
event to celebrate the Ministry, but it was clearly to raise morale in challenging times.

Either way, it was a mistake to hold it with Grindelwald still causing havoc across Europe and the
Muggle war still ongoing. Speaking of the current Dark Lord, Hadrian had already run through the
different scenarios if he did make an entrance. He was just a Hogwarts student. Just a seventeen
year old. Grindelwald had no reason to be interested in him beyond his surname. However,
Grindelwald was very much an unknown. It was that, which was making him so on edge.

He followed closely behind them, and although Tom and Slughorn were chatting like old friends
about certain people who would be making an appearance, he was glad to see Tom’s eyes
flickering every now and again to him.

Hadrian rubbed his tired eyes. Yesterday, there had been no opportunity to speak to Tom about
their ‘relationship’ with each other. Tom had been asked to help Slughorn with something over
lunch and Hadrian had his detention with Dumbledore in the evening where they had sat in silence.
Then, he had to attend to some unfinished business, not getting back until after hours under his
Cloak.

They entered a sprawling hall, worthy of a Russian Tsar. The Selywn’s were one of the Sacred
Twenty Eight families and rivalled the Malfoy’s in wealth. Large doors were flung open on the
lawns outside that were lit up. Inside the hall, it was busy with groups and dancing. There was a
small stage set up, where some string instruments were being played by five long haired men.

Slughorn was blustering away with simpering greetings to various people as he made a beeline for
a tight-knit group near one of the open doors. Gossamer curtains gently moved in the wind, from
where they were tied back with golden string, parting to allow guests in and out. Despite the cool
air filtering in, he was restless and hot. Hadrian just followed Tom. Before they had left, Slughorn
had given them instructions to stay close to him for the beginning of the night, so he could suggest
connections but then had given them a wink and then made a comment about them being ‘of age’
and able to socialise by themselves after. Hadrian had smelt the whisky on the man before they
took the Floo, no doubt he wanted to go his Hogwarts business and then get on to socialising and
drinking with all of his old ‘connections’.

Slughorn cleared his throat outside the group he had targeted. It was a mixture of four men and a
woman, dressed in very fine dark robes. One of them had a very impressive handlebar moustache.

It was he who looked at Slughorn first. His mouth curved into a smile under the moustache.
“Horace! Mighty fine to see you.” For a man who was quite slim, he had a deep, almost booming
voice.

The group parted to ease the way for the three of them to join the fold, and yet Hadrian hung back
a little. He noticed Tom eagerly pressing in.

“It’s been too long, Leonard,” Slughorn said, smiling. They clasped hands and the other three
people welcomed the Professor with genuine smiles and words.

“What? Five years?” This ‘Leonard’ asked, fingers rolling one side of his moustache. “Merlin, it
must be!”

“Time does fly, especially for a busy Minister.” Slughorn winked. “Let me introduce you to my
two wonderful students.”

“Thomas Riddle.” Tom offered the man his hand, who shook it. “It is an honour, Sir, especially
with your work in Europe.”

The Minister released the Slytherin’s hand. “Thank you, Mr Riddle, and please excuse the
formalities this evening. Tonight you may call me Leonard. Your words are very kind.” Clear blue
eyes then turned to Hadrian, who was looking elsewhere. “And this one?”

“Hadrian Peverell,” Slughorn said, an edge of exasperation to his voice.

At the sound of his name, Hadrian snapped his focus back on the conversation. He inwardly
winced at the multiple pairs of eyes on him. “Yes?”

“Hadrian, this is the Minister for Magic, Leonard Spencer-Moon.”

“Ah.” Hadrian simply gave a nod of his head. “I have heard much about you, Sir.”

Slughorn’s smile cracked a little before he turned the full charm on for his ‘old friend’. “Hadrian
was travelling Europe with his mother, before he was orphaned. He has only been in England for
six months.”

“I did not think there were any Peverell’s left,” the Minister commented. “It would be good to see
such a respected name back on the Wizengamot at some point in the near future.”

He perked up. “It is an area I am interested in,” he admitted.

“These two boys are destined for great things,” Slughorn said. “Both hold Salazar Slytherin’s gift
of Parseltongue and are able to cast a full, Corporal Patronus’!”
At the raise of the group’s eyebrows, the woman finally spoke. “You must be the ones my daughter
had written to me about. Professor Beery’s disaster of a play, you two must be the Slytherins who
saved the Great Hall from the fire.”

Tom smiled. “That would be us. Hadrian and I have been experimenting with joint magic.”

“Joint magic?” the Minister asked, a strange note to his voice.

Riddle ignored Hadrian’s pointed look. “Yes, our wands are brothers.”

“Outstanding!” Spencer-Moon glanced over at Slughorn. “Horace, you should have written to me
about two prodigies much sooner!”

The Professor had a redness to his cheeks. “Ah, well, you are a busy man.”

Hadrian glowered inside. No one knew that their wands were brothers, apart from their friends.
That was not public knowledge. They had not told Dippet or Dumbledore about it, but here, Riddle
had just informed the Minister of Magic like it was not a big deal. Then again, it was better that
Tom was trying (and succeeding) to charm the Minister, rather than be rejected and slowly morph
into the monster that was Voldemort. All of this was unknown territory. Everything was changing,
more rapidly than he ever thought was possible, and it felt like the future he knew was just floating
away...out of reach.

“Nonsense!” The Minister said. “You both must come along to the Ministry. I will introduce you to
some very influential people. Shared magic...brother wands...I believe great things will come from
the both of you.”

Hadrian pursed his lips. In both time periods ‘great things’ were prophesied for him. He was
already tired of those words. Clenching his hand into a fist, he welcomed the nips of pain as his
nails embedded into his skin. To say he was in a grumpy mood, was an understatement. He was
tired and on edge. Schmoozing was not on his list of priorities. That was Tom’s job.

Tom was chatting away to the Ministry Officials easily, like he belonged with them, and it made
Hadrian’s chest ache with an emotion he could not quite identify.

Emerald eyes flickered over the guests. There were not many faces he recognised, but he felt the
prickle of eyes upon him. Hadrian dragged a hand through his hair and slowly made his way into
the throngs of other guests.

A drink was offered to him by a very tall female dressed in a black, formal uniform. He took it,
hoping it contained some kind of alcohol to calm his nerves. It did. The citrusy drink burned on its
way down and warmth spread through his limbs.

He discarded the empty glass onto another waiter’s tray as he moved towards the doors, so he
could drink in the air.

“Mr Peverell?”

Freezing at the female voice, he turned to see a willowy woman standing there. She wore a tight,
yellow dress that hugged every slim curve and contrasted against her tan skin. Red lips curved into
a smile.

“A dance?”

He grimaced. “No thanks.” Hadrian made to move, but she was quick, her fingers curling around
his wrist.

“I must insist. It would be terrible manners to reject a lady’s dance.” She turned her wrist up to him,
and a thick Deathly Hallows symbol was revealed.

“Can we just skip this part and just take me to him?”

She let out a short laugh. “I will lead you, young boy.”

Hadrian allowed himself to be pulled to the dance floor. Her hands settled on his shoulders, forcing
his hands onto her hips, which felt fleshy under his hands. Tom had not felt ‘fleshy’, but hard and
strong against him… He focused on where his feet were, trying not to make such a scene.

“You think too much, just look up at me.”

He grumbled under his breath and he forced his eyes up. “So, what is this? An audition? Scoping
me out?”

“Maybe both,” she said with that irritating smile. “You are just a boy, but we have heard
information about you that interests our Lord.”

“What Department do you work for then?” he asked in mock sweetness.

His question took her by surprise, where she seemed to forget where they were. But it was only a
moment. “One of them.” She studied his eyes. “What is your real identity?”

He gave a snort. “Look, if this is your line of questioning, just take me to him now. This is
tedious.”

“You have a lot of attitude. Someone should rip your tongue out and feed it to you,” she bit out.

A hand on her shoulder, stilled her. “Play nice, Kiera.” She was moved out of the way. Her head
bowed submissively and her movements revealed a tall and attractive middle-aged man. It was not
the face of Grindelwald but every one of his senses screamed it was him. The man’s magic pressed
into him for one brief flash, dark and heavy. Unlike the rich spice and alluring nature of Tom’s,
this was cloying and oily.

“Come, dance, little snake.” Grindelwald grinned. He took Hadrian’s waist and drew him close,
making the smaller male reach up to settle hands on broad shoulders. They swept away across the
floor in a swirl of robes as the magic picked up tempo.

Hadrian could not tear his eyes away from the ice-cold blue eyes that captured his. He swallowed,
surprised by how his feet glided in time with the older wizard’s. “Do you dance with everyone you
threaten?”

“That was not a threat, little snake.”

“Yes, because a letter from a Dark Lord promising your ‘paths will cross’ is not a threat,” Hadrian
replied with a curl of his upper lip. “And it is Hadrian Peverell.”

“Ah, but it isn’t, is it?” asked the man, with his light Hungarian accent coming through. “I think I
would remember hunting down a Peverell woman with a child, but I recall no such thing.
Regardless, I may have use of you.”

Hadrian glowered as the man spun him before catching him back into his arms, returning to their
dance. “I am not an object or a pawn.”

“Everyone is a pawn, dear snake. When you learn this, that is when you start to make your own
moves in the game.” Grindelwald’s face was impassive. “How does a boy appear out of
nowhere?”

“Is that a polyjuice potion you are using?”

The dark wizard chuckled. “If we were not in such a public venue, I would have tortured you by
now to the point you would be begging me to know what your name is.”

Hadrian smirked. “But you wouldn’t know what name to give me, would you?”

Blue eyes sparked. “I like your bite, little snake.” They twirled. “In time, you will tell me all of
those little secrets you are keeping.”

Dark eyebrows rose. “You have a ridiculous ego.”

“And you have no idea what awaits you.” Grindelwald’s hands tightened on his hips, drawing him
in closer. “I have completed my checks on you. Appointments with Professor Croaker right before
he dies in his home? No records of your mother, or any of your remaining family. Feats of
unnatural magic. A mysterious curse scar from the darkest of magic.” Eyes flicked to his forehead.
“I will pry every single secret from you, Hadrian, whether you submit or not. If you are truly a
missing Peverell, you have my utmost interest. If not...I will have to judge your worth.”

“So, what happens now?”

“I want to see what you are made of.” Grindelwald whisked them towards the doors. “You intrigue
me.” He seized Hadrian’s hand and led him out into the open air.

He gulped it into his lungs, trying not to react to the man’s touch against his skin, which felt wrong
and dirty. The moon was out, stars shining and the sound of gentle chatter and glasses tinkling
contrasted against the very idea that Grindelwald walked amongst them. His other hand drifted
against his robes, where his wand was and he sunk into his pocket.

Suddenly, he was jerked towards Grindelwald as they descended the steps, falling into the older
man. “Before you retrieve your wand, ask yourself if you want many to die tonight,” came the
man’s hushed voice in his ear.

“I will not let you just take me,” Hadrian hissed.

“Little snake, you have no idea who you are dealing with.” Blue eyes pinned his.

A group of wizards ascended up the steps beside them, their laughter causing Hadrian’s throat to
tighten. Grindelwald was someone they had learnt about briefly in History of Magic in the future,
but Binns skimmed over it, judging it too ‘macabre’ to go through and too ‘recent’. It would have
been recent to Binns, given that he ‘lived’ through both Dark Lord’s reigns. However, everyone
referred to Voldemort as the worst Dark Lord that had ever lived. Hadrian was able to fight
Voldemort. He was his prophesied enemy. Grindelwald was an unknown but Dumbledore had said
there was hope for him.

If a fight started now, people would die. If Grindelwald took him...he would be a hostage and his
life would be at a considerable risk. How had he seen this night going? He should have planned
more. Instead, he had been stuck in a cupboard with Tom Riddle and Dumbledore had wasted his
time in numerous detentions in the evening. What he wanted, was on Grindelwald’s person and this
could be his only opportunity. It was him the Dark Lord was interested in, no one else. He
suddenly felt like a child in an adult’s game. A mere pawn.

His hand closed in on his wand. “Let me go.”

Grindelwald smiled, a sharp edge to the sides. “So be it, little snake.” He pushed Hadrian away.

Hadrian stumbled on the steps, but his wand was already in his hand and he whipped it out. A red
spell crashed against the shield he instantly erected.

Screams rose up across the gardens.

Hadrian straightened, to see the Elder Wand in Grindelwald’s hand as the man conjured a lick of
blue flame that crashed against his shield and shattered it. He cast a wandless ‘Expelliarmus’ but
the man disarmed the spell like it was from a child.

There were people running about in their fancy attire, wands being drawn. Grindelwald’s followers
stepped out to defend their leader and glimmers of spells caught Hadrian’s peripheral vision. His
hand tightened on his wand. “Protego,” he hissed in Parseltongue. The shielding charm had a
green tint to it as it rose around him, deflecting another lick of blue flame sent his way,
successfully this time. Although, the Elder Wand was strong, and had cracked through his
defenses.

Grindelwald grinned. “Let me see your venom, little snake.” He threw a wandless, green curse that
shattered his shield once more.

Hadrian snarled, jumping down the remaining steps to the grass. He threw out a Sectumsempra -
deflected. Then another - deflected. Grindelwald took his surprise and sent a blue fireball to the
hall. Screams ascended and Hadrian could only watch in horror as a man stumbled out of the door
he had emerged out of only minutes ago, face and clothes on fire. The anguished cries were
something he knew he would never forget.

Tom was in there…

Hadrian made a move towards the hall, but stopped when another spell was shot his way by the
Dark Lord. He ducked, smacking his knee against the stone wall. Hissing through his teeth, he
fired another spell but it was useless.

He rose and cast an ‘Expulso’ in Parseltongue - not at Grindelwald, but the ground in front of him.
Stone and dirt exploded up six or seven storeys in the air. The pieces of flooring curved together
like giant snakes before falling down. Hadrian did not watch as Grindelwald erected a shield to
protect him, instead he took the knife from his pocket and sliced down into his palm.

As the droplets hit the ground, he muttered the spell, initiating the blood magic he had picked up
from one of Salazar Slytherin’s books. Each one of the drops of his blood wriggled and grew,
tubular in shape. Hadrian threw himself to the floor to avoid another spell aimed at him. He drew
his head up to see five monstrous snakes rising up, fangs dripping in the moonlight. Bigger than
Nagini, not as big as a Basilisk.

“Kill him,” he hissed, looking straight at Grindelwald who was covered in a sheen of dirt and
surrounded by huge chunks of stone and dirt.

The Dark Lord eyed the snakes, throwing his head back and laughing gleefully. Hadrian studied
the Elder Wand as Grindelwald battled the snakes. Many of the battling wizards had moved away
from the dark wizard, especially at the sight of the conjured beasts. Just as Hadrian was about to
 attack Grindelwald, a spell whizzed across his arm, skimming the flesh. He yelled in pain, spinning
around to see the woman in the yellow dress.

“Fuck.” Hadrian threw a litany of curses in her direction. She evaded and dodged until he sent a
Sectumsempra in her direction right after an innocent ‘Stupefy’. A scream exploded from her mouth
as her wand arm was sliced off, hitting the ground with a thump.

He had no time to react as ropes encompassed his body, pinning his arms to his sides. Hands
grabbed him, turning him around to see Grindelwald’s borrowed face leering at him. There was a
cut below his left eye and he was covered in blood from the snakes, which brought Hadrian some
pleasure.

“Hadrian!”

Tom .

Suddenly, his magic burst to life and he turned his head from Grindelwald to see Tom running out
of the burning manor. He was lending Hadrian his magic through their connection. Hadrian’s
heart thumped at the revelation. And Tom looked perfect. His black hair was in disarray and eyes
wide...but perfect. He sagged at the waist, having thrown as much power as possible to help
Hadrian.

But that was short lived. There was a wand moving behind Tom, magic building at its tip. Hadrian
pulled his magic - the magic that Tom had given him - and instead of freeing himself, he cast the
strongest Avada Kedavra he could at the woman about to hit Riddle. The emerald light made a
direct hit, and the woman crumpled to the ground.

“That is wonderful, little snake.” Hadrian gasped as the ropes tightened and his wand fell from his
grasp, into Grindelwald’s waiting hand. “Sleep.”

The last thing that Hadrian saw was Tom’s handsome face morphing into one of fury...and then
nothing.

Chapter End Notes

So...this was the big angst I had spoken about! Fight scenes are never my strongest
area.

Please let me know what you think, as this is obviously a major turning point!

*Also, what would you guys think about it now splitting off, so you can see Tom and
Hadrian's POVs?*
 Chapter 30
Chapter Notes

Wow! Thank you all so much for your comments last chapter; I know it was pretty
explosive plot-wise! They have been a delight to read and really do mean a lot.

I must apologise for the late chapter. The weather here has been horrendous for
concentrating and I will never post a chapter I am not happy with, or isn't my best.

I hope you enjoy this installment, let me know!

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Hadrian came too with a jolt. A cry escaped his lips as pain flourished all the way along his back
where it was connected to a hard surface. He rolled over, coughing as his eyes darted around to his
immediate surroundings. There was a dull ache in his head and it took a few moments for him to
concentrate on anything.

It was a cell, dimly lit by fire encased behind a transparent panel on the wall running across the
middle of the opposite side to where he lay. There was a window with bars, but it was tiny. It was
not big enough for him to climb out, even if he managed to get the bars off like Ron and his
brother’s had done to the bars on his window at Privet Drive. It was raining, and the cold air
infiltrated the dingy cell, causing him to shiver as it raided his bones.

Hadrian sat up on the uncomfortable bed, rubbing his arms. Gone were his dress robes, and instead
he wore a dark cloth tunic and trousers. No socks or shoes. No wand.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He slammed his fist down on the bed beside him.

Lowering his feet to the ground, he gave an embarrassing yelp as they connected to the freezing
cold floor. It took numerous tries for him to place his feet on the ground, then he teetered over to
the window. His jaw fell at the rain and clouds that had gathered outside...and the mountainous
surroundings. The jagged precipices were swaddled in swathes of clouds, a clash of stark grey and
white.

He was very far away from home.

He padded over to the walls, feeling his way across to see if there were any gaps or openings until
he got to the metal door. Hadrian slammed his hand on it, making it rattle against the stone. The
sound made his head pound once more.

Tell me...who… Hadrian shuddered as a horribly persuasive voice echoed along with the thumping
of his heartbeat, inside his head. What was that?

“Hello? Let me out!” he called.

Silence.

“Let. Me. Out!” Hadrian thundered his fists onto the door for what felt like hours. His throat was
raw, feet blocks of ice and eyes sore from crying. The pounding his head was subsiding a bit, but
his hunger and thirst was gnawing away at his stomach. How long had he been unconscious?

It was clear that no one was coming.

Hadrian gathered himself up on the bed, huddling in the corner and bringing the thin, scratchy
blanket up to cover himself.

What had he done? Arrogance had led him here. He knew that Grindelwald would make an
appearance sooner rather than later, and that the Ball would be the most obvious place. However,
his dueling techniques were child’s play compared to the strength of the fabled Elder Wand. And
Grindelwald had excellent mastery over its power. The way the man had effortlessly batted away
Hadrian’s attacks time and time again, and the strength of the dark wizard’s magic as it cracked
open his shields… Hadrian closed his eyes and rested his head back on the wall.

Tom had tried to protect him. The thought should have warmed his insides, but instead left him
cold. It could have ended there. He could have used that power to fight more, to escape...but
instead his first reaction was to save Tom. With the Killing Curse as well...an Unforgivable that
came too easily to him, especially given that it was a Ministry function. If the Ministry had
punished him for protecting himself and Dudley from a dementor, then what would be his
punishment for this? Perhaps that would be exempt given the attack...but Hadrian did not have
much faith. He could only hope that Tom was all right, that he had survived.

The sky darkened outside as it turned to night and the rain thundered down stronger than ever.
Hadrian had tried to summon some wandless magic, but it was rusty and he was still exhausted
from the fight. The only thing he had managed to do was to raise his floppy, damp pillow a
millimeter off the bed.

With a screech of metal, something thunked against the door to his cell. Hadrian dropped the
blanket and sat up straight as the door then opened.

It was the woman who had worn the yellow dress. Though now, she wore all black, almost like a
military uniform and her hair was pulled back into a loose bun. Her pale lips curved into a smile.

“Come along, Mr Peverell, my Lord is waiting,” she said, though her wand slid out into her hand as
she spoke.

His upper lip curled but he was silent. There was no point expending any energy here. It was
Grindelwald he wanted to deal with. Hadrian wrapped his arms around his torso, barely able to
hold back his wince as his feet landed on the glacial stone floor. The woman walked out into the
corridor, and he followed.

No wonder he had no reply from anyone. Instead of emerging into a corridor of cells, he came out
immediately to a spiral staircase. Hadrian descended, hearing the steps from the woman behind
him padding on the steps behind him. Every now and then, he would glance back and see her wand
pointing right at him but out of reach.

“Left.”

Hadrian clenched his teeth as he got to the bottom and turned left into a corridor. It was then, he
stalled. The windows revealed more snowy mountains, rain lashing from thick clouds. This wasn’t
Scotland...or England...this was somewhere very different. How would anyone find him?

“Move.”
He shot her an irritated look before he started to walk again, glad for the strip of grey carpet that
ran in the middle of the corridor. There was a door open ahead, in which the woman told him to go
through.

This room was opulent. It was vast, dominated by a large dining table in the centre made of solid
wood. A variety of food and drink were laid out in a luxurious spread at one end of the table and
Hadrian’s stomach gave a painful rumble at the mouth-watering sight. To the side of it, a huge
fireplace burned brightly and warmed the space up, flocked by two large tapestries emblazoned
with the Deathly Hallows symbol.

“Hadrian, how nice of you to join me,” said a familiar, European voice. Grindelwald walked in
from an adjoining door. This time, the man wore his own face. His hair was blonde-streaked with
white, pushed back away from his pale face. He was still handsome, even though he was very
much into his middle-age. Faint wrinkles streaked across his forehead and the sides of his mouth.

“Where am I?” he asked, not taking his eyes away from the dark wizard as Grindelwald took a
chair at the head of the table, where the food had been placed.

“In my castle.”

Nurmengard. That was what he knew about Grindelwald in the future. Something Binns had said.
He was still alive in Hadrian’s time. Locked away there.

“Ophelia, go, leave us. Hadrian, sit down.” The man gestured to the only other chair, which was to
his right.

“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest, noting that the woman had left and the door pulled shut
with a ‘click’.

“I must insist.”

“You can insist all you want,” Hadrian retorted.

Grindelwald took the Elder Wand out and pointed it at Hadrian. “You really do not want to eat
after the Cruciatus. It really upsets the stomach.”

He scowled at the older man before he marched over, dragging the chair out and pulling it away
from Grindelwald, who looked amused all the while. When it was mid-way down the table, but on
the edge of where the food was, he sat down.

“Foolish.” Grindelwald flicked his wand and Hadrian’s chair shot sideways, the table legs
squealing across the stone floor.

Hadrian held onto the arms of the chair and his scowl deepened as he now sat just a metre away
from the Dark Lord. His chair was now stuck to the floor and unable to move. However, his
attention was grasped by the scents from the spread before them. Being this close to the food made
his mouth salivate. When had he last eaten? Just before the Ministry Function. But when was that?
How long had passed?

“Help yourself. We shall talk around dining,” Grindelwald said, lifting some meat onto his plate.

His eyes roamed over the food, drinking up the various smells and sights. He dished up various
vegetables and meats onto his plate, eyeing up the wine that was being poured into the glass beside
him. Hadrian studied Grindelwald’s strong hands, not allowing his gaze to wander and his drink to
be spiked.
“You are right to be cautious.”

Hadrian made an affirmative noise, watching as the other man drew away to rest back in his chair.
Grindelwald lifted his glass of red wine and sipped it, eyeing Hadrian who was now eating his
meal as delicately as possible. What he wanted to do was stuff his mouth so bad, it would make
Ron proud. But it really wasn’t the time.

“Not going to ask me where my castle is, or where you are?”

He swallowed his mouthful of food, glad that his headache had dissipated further. “Where is your
castle? Where am I?” he asked, unable to keep the droll tone from his voice.

Grindelwald’s smile grew. “Oh, I do like you.” He placed down his wine. “You either do not
care...or already know. I will go with the latter, especially from the fierce battle you gave me. You
care very much that you are here. So...how do you know where my illustrious castle is?”

“I have no idea where it is,” Hadrian lied. “I just saw some mountains through my tiny cell window
and presumed it was far enough away that I wouldn’t even know.”

The Dark Lord hummed, not convinced. “You will tell me at some point; I can wait.”

Hadrian glowered, watching the man eat some of his vegetables. He finally gave in and sipped his
wine, given it was the only refreshment on the table and he was parched. Grimacing at the rich and
heady taste, he put it down and tried to eat some meat to take away the acidicness that was
wrapped around his tongue.

“What do you want from me?”

Grindelwald patted his mouth with a napkin. “Initially, I was just going to torture you until you
told me who you actually are, then kill you. You are not a Peverell, they are all dead. I know you
are using their name to hide yours, but I do wonder why. My interest was already piqued when one
of my dear friends at the Ministry let it slip that you met with Professor Croaker before his
untimely death. However, the ‘icing on the cake’ as you British would say, was that power you
demonstrated.”

Hadrian was silent, his fork now chasing a pea around his plate, avoiding the man’s eyes.

“An effortless use of the Killing Curse...and Blood Magic. It was truly a delicious sight.”
Grindelwald smiled, running a hand over his blonde-grey hair. “And that power just comes so
naturally to you. You remind me of a boy I used to know.”

Dumbledore. Hadrian sipped his wine, not able to stop the small grimace crossing his lips. “Who
was that?”

“I used to know one of your Professors, but he fell away from our cause over time. Such a shame.
Such potential.” Grindelwald continued to eat.

Submerging in his thoughts, Hadrian tried to make sense of the myriad of questions he had. His
experience of Dark Lords was the opposite of the charm that this man was emitting and it was
forcing him to re-evaluate everything. Tom Riddle charmed (as he had seen in his experience at
Hogwarts, but also through Dumbledore’s ‘memories’ that he had shared with Harry), but not when
he lost his sanity over dividing his soul.

“Do you plan to still torture and kill me?”

“I have not quite decided yet...but I do think it would be such a shame to lose that fiery mind of
yours.”

He swirled the wine in the glass, the dark red reminding him of the tinge in Tom’s eyes.

“I can give you such power at my side, little snake. No judgement. No holding back. No hiding
from the true potential of your magic. I will let you flourish, become everything you should and
could be.”

Hadrian swallowed, eyes flickering up. He already had his plate full with a different Dark
wizard/Lord and he had not banked on lobbying with another. It had been simple...kill
Grindelwald. But now he was trapped here with no wand, and outnumbered. This could not be a
Gryffindor move but utterly Slytherin. He had to defeat Grindelwald. He had to get back to Tom
and prevent the horrorshow of a future ahead.

“What do you want in return?”

Grindelwald smiled, but this time it was more teeth than humour. “Your name. Your allegiance. I
want to be your mentor.”

Hadrian’s back stiffened. “I cannot condone the killing of Muggles.”

A laugh poured from the dark wizard’s mouth. “It is not about killing, dear Hadrian. I just do not
think that Muggles deserve the power that they bestow upon themselves. Have you seen how they
abuse what power they have now?”

“What suggests we are any better? You are classed as a terrorist in the Ministry of Magic’s eyes,”
he replied. “You seem to spill blood just as easily.”

Grindelwald nodded. “I know how I am painted in your country and across the world, but it is
provoked by people’s fear. It is true that the Ministries across the world dislike my ideology, but
that is because of the fear they have of the unknown and they treat Muggles like equals. Tell me,
Hadrian, how many wizarding wars have there been? How many places have we obliterated with
weapons to kill enmasse? Have you seen what they are doing out there?”

The man stood up and strode over to the back of Hadrian’s chair. He waved his hand in the air, just
in front of the younger male’s face. Mist poured from his pores, until a ghostly scene played out of
a mushroom cloud blossoming over a city.

“I have Seen it. Muggles will lay destruction upon the world.”

“Are you a Seer? Have you made a prophecy?”

“Yes. I have Seen it with my visions.”

Hadrian shook his head, waving away the scene. No, he knew the future. There would be two
Muggle wars, many would die but it would not lay ‘destruction upon the world’. Tom and
Grindelwald had opposing ideas...one wanted the obedience of the Muggles, the other the absolute
closing of communities. And Hadrian knew which he would prefer.

“Are you a Muggle sympathiser, little snake?” said the charming voice behind him, a hand drifting
down Hadrian’s cheek.

He pulled away from the touch. “I am still making my mind up on what and how I feel about the
wizarding and Muggle world,” he replied honestly. “And I cannot give you my name.”
Grindelwald was silent before he strode away, taking his wine glass as he swept over to the
fireplace. His hip leant on the side, gazing into the fire. “Then you have two options. Your
first...you give me your name. Your real name, and nothing more. If you do not, I will take your
name from you in any way possible and the consequences will be great.”

Hadrian stood, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s just a name. It means nothing,” he hissed.

“If it means nothing, give it to me.”

“No.” This time, his answer was more hesitant.

“This is your final chance.”

Hadrian swallowed. “No.”

Grindelwald sighed, shaking his head. “I did not misjudge your stubbornness.” He gestured to a
table the other side of the fireplace, a small wooden one that held a wedge of paper. “Please.”

Hadrian frowned and walked over, not liking the proximity to the man. However, he reached down
and took the newspaper in his hands. Emerald eyes widened as he took in the front cover of The
Daily Prophet.

Potters Dead!

It was emblazoned in the centre of the edition in thick, bold writing. Hadrian’s mouth opened
before his mind started to catch up with him.

“This cannot be real,” he whispered.

Hadrian checked the date of the paper. It was dated two days after the Ministry Function. The
writing swam as his eyes stung with tears.

“I assure you, that it is real, Harry Potter.”

His stomach dropped, dinner rising into the base of his throat. The paper dropped from his
trembling hands, falling to the floor with a ‘thump’. “No, no...this is not real. This cannot be real.”
He seized his head in his hands.

“It has been four days since I brought you here. The first day, we woke you only enough for me to
enter your mind.” Grindelwald chuckled. “I must admit, I am very impressed by your Occlumency
shields. It took multiple attempts, and I did not want to pry too much. We have to keep that smart
little mind of yours.”

The man’s words were drifting away as Hadrian’s mind raced. It was the hand on his shoulder that
brought him crashing back to reality. His eyes met ice blue as he raised his head.

“Harry Potter, the boy out of his own time.”

“What do you do?” he uttered, his knees wobbling.

Grindelwald had placed down his wine at some point on the fireplace and his other hand took
Hadrian’s other shoulder, supporting him. “You belong here, little snake. I know nothing of your
future, or how you ended up here, but I have cut your ties. You are free. I have freed you.”

His father would never exist. Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys...all gone. They would never know
Harry Potter. He would never be the Boy-Who-Lived.

“I am still here,” he croaked. “I am still alive.”

“Yes.” Grindelwald offered him what looked like a reassuring smile. “The theories all point to
your permanent existence in our time. Croaker had completed extensive work for us when we were
looking at time magic for our cause.”

Hadrian blinked as anger rose within him, breaking free of the paralysing shock. However, instead
of giving in to the wild emotion, like he usually did, Hadrian pushed it down forcefully. He had to
survive this. He had to save Tom from himself.

His fingers drifted to his face and his breath caught as they connected to the lightning bolt scar that
linked him to Tom Riddle/Voldemort, somehow. Relief uncoiled in his gut, aiding the abatement of
his fury.

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to kill Albus Dumblefore for me.”

Hadrian stared at him before releasing a short laugh, pulling away from the older man. “That is
ridiculous.”

“You are not ready yet, but we will train you. I believe that you are the one I am looking for.”

He quirked an eyebrow up at the dark wizard. “Why don’t you do it? He’s your old friend.”

“We have an unbreakable agreement.” Grindelwald retrieved his wine from the top of the fireplace
and sipped it. “It is only a matter of time before he finds some way around it...someone else to do
what he cannot. He now stands as my enemy.”

There was no way he was going to kill Dumbledore. But all of this...all of this meant that he needed
to rethink his entire strategy. Not that he had much of one to begin with. Grindelwald was more
powerful and manipulative than he expected. It was not like Voldemort, where there was a
connection between them. This present Dark Lord was different, but very much the same. Arrogant
and charming. If he could work with Riddle, he could work with Grindelwald.

“I shall give you time to think.” Grindelwald strode over to the table, placing down his now empty
wine glass.

“If I do not accept?”

“Then I will put another pawn on the table, little snake.”

Hadrian froze at the words and at the sharp smile sent his way. He barely registered the woman
coming back in, to lead him back to the cell. Both of them were quiet, and it was only when the
door closed, that Hadrian allowed himself to feel again.

A broken cry escaped him. He clasped a shaking hand to his mouth and sunk down onto the hard
mattress that was now his bed. His grandparents, dead. James Potter would be no more. There
would be one member missing from the Mauraders...if they ever came to be. Harry Potter would
never exist. He now existed only in this fucked up timeline.
Grindelwald had forced himself into Hadrian’s mind. His hands itched at his skull at the violation.
How could he keep all of his other secrets safe? His shields were strong, to cast the dark wizard
out, even in a state of unconsciousness. And the dark wizard had wanted to keep Hadrian’s sanity,
stopping him from causing any damage.

Gathering the limp pillow in his arms, Hadrian hugged it to his body as his back rested against the
cool stone. His mind drifted to Tom, and he prayed that he would forgive Hadrian.
 Chapter 31
Chapter Notes

I must admit, I did love writing this chapter and did it very quickly! This is a big one,
so get ready for it.

How did I get to over 100,000 words on this? I apologise for the incredibly slow-burn,
and I assure you I will make up for it later!

Thank you to all the lovely comments; they do make my day.

Warnings: gore, violence

I hope you all enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Sleep had not come easy to him, broken by the bursts of glacial air through the metal bars of the
cell window. It was uncomfortable in the bed. The more Hadrian laid down, the harder the mattress
seemed to become beneath him and the sheet he had been given had no protection against the
weather. He yearned for the comfort of the bed in his dorm with the Slytherins. He missed the
quiet snores of Lestrange and the faint sound of water from the submerged quarters in the Great
Lake. He missed Tom.

Tom would be furious with him. He should have prepared more for a fight against Grindelwald, or
alerted someone sooner. Things may have been different. Hadrian had spent a large amount of his
night remembering Tom’s mouth and body against his until his thoughts would tumble into
darkness about the massacre of his relatives.

When the morning light started to trickle over the mountains, Hadrian’s eyes were red and sore.
There was a shiver in his bones he could not get rid of. His magic was returning, but his body was
still in shock over the events and he was more wary. Grindelwald’s other ‘pawn’ was obvious.
Tom. Tom had spoken about their ‘joint’ magic at the Ministry Function and if Grindelwald was
truthful, he had eyes in Hogwarts as well. It was obvious there had been something between Riddle
and him. They had a very public relationship with their use of magic and their joint language in
Parseltongue. He hoped that Tom was taking care of Onyx.

There was a sudden shriek of metal that symbolised the opening of the cell door.

Hadrian did not turn to face whoever came in, because he knew instantly. With his magic
returning, he could feel Grindelwald. It was the slight oiliness to his magic or the thickness that
seemed to gather, which caused Hadrian to tense. The man’s magic felt wrong. However, it was
still a surprise that the dark wizard had made the journey up to Hadrian’s cell.

The bed dipped slightly beside him. “How did you sleep, little snake?”

He sighed. “Do you have to ask?”

“I was hoping you would have breakfast with me.”

Hadrian closed his eyes, resting his head on the stone wall. “Do I have a choice?”

There was a huff of laughter. “Yes, regardless, you and I will be going out for a walk after.”

That turned his head. He took in the appearance of the dark wizard. Grindelwald wore smart, form-
fitting robes and there was a light smile tugging the side of his mouth. Those blue eyes twinkled,
much like Dumbledore’s, and that was a sight enough to squeeze his stomach.

“I would like breakfast.”

The smile grew. A hand clasped down on Hadrian’s knee. “I hoped that would be the answer.”

Hadrian moved away from the touch. He stood up from the bed, biting his lip as his bare feet
touched the freezing stone. There was a waft of magic, and his feet were encased in a pair of
woolen slippers. He sighed at the warm sensation against his cold skin. However, there was no
way he was going to thank the man.

Grindelwald stood, gesturing for him to descend ahead of him. Hadrian pulled a face but his
hunger made him obey. Besides, he had to go about this in a different way. He walked down the
staircase until they reached the corridor below. Both of them walked side-by-side in silence, until
they reached the dining room from yesterday.

Instead of dragging his chair, Hadrian took the seat on Grindelwald’s left side.

“Tea?”

Hadrian raised his eyebrows. “Uh, I don’t drink tea.” Instead, he pulled the small pitcher of what
looked like pumpkin juice towards his glass. He poured himself a glass and then helped himself to
come toast.

Everything tasted so good. Hadrian savoured the burst of butter on his tongue and the slight tang of
the pumpkin juice at the back of his throat as he swallowed it down. Grindelwald was reading one
of the several newspapers that were gathered between them. It was all very quaint. Here he was,
breakfasting with this timeline’s Dark Lord.

“Can I read this?”

Grindelwald seemed surprised by his request, eyes dropping to see Hadrian’s fingers skimming the
top of The Daily Prophet . It was the only English newspaper. He nodded. “Go ahead.”

Hadrian finished his slice of toast before eagerly absorbing the news from the United Kingdom.
Home. There were lots of stories on the front page about the Ministry Function - the fallout of
some Ministry workers revealing their alliances to Grindelwald. It was a surprise. How was
Grindelwald expecting the other evening to go? He had taken Hadrian as a risk of losing some of
his followers’ influence at the Ministry.

It was the marker to go to ‘Page 2’ that caught his attention. There was a picture of Dippet behind
his desk looking thoughtful, an owl moving behind him. The article was about the kidnapping of
one of Hogwarts students - Hadrian Peverell.

Is Hogwarts harbouring dark wizards?

By Gideon Warbeck
 As has been widely circulated, a student attending the Ministry’s latest ‘Bash’, celebrating their
successes so far in the navigation of current wars across Europe, was taken. The student - Hadrian
Peverell - joined Hogwarts as an orphan in October of last year and was Sorted into the notorious
Slytherin house. Slytherin had a broad reputation of churning out all kinds of Dark Wizards,
following in the footsteps of Salazar Slytherin himself. Furthermore, sources from the school have
confirmed that Hadrian Peverell has the ability to speak to snakes, a dark ability that links him
more to the Muggle-hating Founder.

Not much is known about Hadrian Peverell’s life before Hogwarts, apart from sources confirming
that Grindelwald allegedly killed his mother whilst running from the Dark Wizard across Europe.
However, as many know, the Peverell line died out many years ago, and no living relatives have
ever been confirmed. So, who is the boy who claims to be part of the ancient and noble line?

Headmaster Armando Dippet has kept unusually silent about the ‘kidnapped’ student, rejecting all
requests for interviews and instead informing The Daily Prophet that he is working closely with
the Ministry to bring back the boy. Sources claim that Hadrian Peverell and another student had
recently saved Hogwarts Great Hall from a fire that broke out on stage during a school
performance.

It is the use of powerful magic that has led to questions surrounding Hadrian Peverell’s true
allegiances. A Ministry Official who did not want to be named, commented that she saw first-hand
the seventeen-year-old cast the Killing Curse effortlessly, narrowly missing his classmate who was
also attending. Although many testified that Hadrian Peverell was using the curse in self-defense,
the Killing Curse has been outlawed since 1717 and the punishment of casting such a spell, is
death. The use of such forbidden and dark magic has placed questions over Hadrian Peverell and
his acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It appears he was the target of Grindelwald’s attack on the Ministry, but for what reason? Until
Headmaster Dippet comes clean about how and why Hadrian Peverell ended up at Hogwarts, we
can only speculate on what makes the boy worthwhile of a Dark Lord’s attention.

Hadrian folded the paper and pushed it away from him. He hadn't even thought before using the
Unforgivable. All that was on his mind was protecting Tom, and the woman could have cast
anything on him. By doing so, he had doomed himself. Things never changed with The Daily
Prophet . It did make a change from being the ‘Golden Boy’. Now, he was being set up to be
Public Enemy Number Two.

“How does it feel reading about yourself in the paper?” Grindelwald asked, not lifting his eyes
from his newspaper as he sipped his tea.

Hadrian frowned. “Shit. How else is it supposed to feel?”

“Manners, little snake.” Blue eyes rose. “Besides, they will all come around to our way of thinking
soon.”

“Our way?” He snorted lightly. “Your way. Anyway, you can’t expect everyone to just ‘come
round’ when you are talking about placing wizards in a superior position over Muggles.”

Grindelwald just gave him another hint of a smile. “You would be surprised at how many are
scared by the Muggle’s hideous war.” He placed his paper down. “Did the article include your use
of such a dark curse? You must tell me more about that. I was very shocked and impressed, not to
mention your use of blood magic.”

Hadrian shifted in his chair, feeling the warmth of the fire behind him. He stayed quiet.

It did not put Grindelwald off. “You were protecting your friend? Not many would use the Killing
Curse to protect just a friend...a lover perhaps?” His smile grew as Hadrian glared at him. “Do not
worry, the boy is of little interest to me. It is your strength that is truly a marvel.”

He inwardly felt a flicker of amusement at the naivety to the man’s declaration that Tom Riddle
was of ‘little interest’.

“When did you first cast an Unforgivable?”

Hadrian steeled himself. “A woman killed my Godfather, so I tried to Crucio her. That was last
year.”

“It did not work?”

“No. I didn’t have it in me. I didn’t mean it.” He could hear Bellatrix Lestrange’s cackle in his
head and her mocking words as she danced through the Ministry, away from him.

“You have quite a handle over dark magic, despite that, in such a short time,” Grindelwald mused.
“Are you finished?”

Hadrian blinked. “Uh, yes.”

The dark wizard got to his feet and strode over to the other door that he had appeared at yesterday.
“Follow me.”

He removed himself from the breakfast table, walking after Grindelwald to enter a huge spread of a
decadent living area. It was richly decorated with deep crimson-coloured sofas surrounding another
large fireplace. There were a number of bookshelves embedded into the walls where tapestries and
paintings hung. How had Grindelwald gotten his hands on Numengard?

The man retrieved a folded pile of clothes from a side table, striding back over to Hadrian. “There
is a washroom through that door.” He pointed. “I want you to clean up and get dressed.” The
wizard then delved into his pocket and retrieved a silver bangle. He gave Hadrian the clothing and
then took the younger male’s wrist.

“What is that?” Hadrian hissed, trying to pull away.

However, the man’s grip tightened and he slipped the bangle onto Hadrian’s arm. It tightened and
there was a sharp pinch as Grindelwald cast a non-verbal spell onto the metal. “That, my little
snake, is just something to keep you in place until you earn my trust.” Grindelwald withdrew,
watching as Hadrian unsuccessfully tried to pull it off. “It is called a restringo band. They used to
be used for children who struggled with accidental magic. Could not have a baby disappearing to a
different place.”
“A child’s bracelet?” Hadrian seethed.

“Yes.” Grindelwald appeared happy with himself. “I found it in my personal vault, so see it as a
wonderful gift.” He chuckled at the horror on the younger male’s face before pulling back his
sleeve and revealing an identical silver band but it was thicker and had a strip of gold running
through the middle. “I can control how much magic I limit you to. Mostly, I propose to use it to
stop you from apparating away.”

Hadrian glared down at the silver that snugly rested on his skin. There were so many things he
wanted to say. He wanted to throw the clothes at Grindelwald’s face, spit on him and then Avada
Kedavra him into the fireplace just so he could watch his corpse burn. It was then that Hadrian
vowed that he would not just disarm Grindelwald for the Elder Wand. He was going to kill him.
And it would hurt.

With just a disgusted noise, Hadrian turned on his heel and stormed over to the bathroom. It was
twenty minutes later that he emerged. The robes were the most expensive he had ever touched, let
alone owned. They were almost exactly like Grindelwald’s, form-fitting and military in style, with
silver clasps down the right breast. However, these were black, with forest green detailing and
trousers. It had felt nice to stand in the showering system, despite how old it was in comparison to
the ones in the future, and feel cleaner. His attempts at magic came to nothing with the introduction
of the stupid bangle.

Grindelwald was sat on the sofa by the fire, twirling the Elder Wand through his fingers. When he
saw Hadrian, he got to his feet and pocketed the wand. Hadrian moved self-consciously as eyes
roamed over him. The robes were tight compared to his school robes, and the clothes he had been
given when he arrived in the past. In the future, all he wore were Dudley’s hand-me-downs. A life
in baggy clothing.

“Much better.”

Hadrian blinked as he was also handed a winter cloak laden with enchantments that he could feel -
all protection. “Where are we going?”

“I am going to take you for a walk, which will hopefully...aid you in your decision,” Grindelwald
answered, his Hungarian accent curling around each vowel. “The weather will be unpredictable.”
With that, he offered his arm.

Curiosity seized Hadrian. It was new for a Dark Lord to be chasing him to join him, rather than
hunting him down. What could the man possibly show to him to change his mind about everything
the dark wizard was offering. Nothing would change his mind about killing Dumbledore.

Hadrian pulled the cloak on, attaching the buckle at the base of his throat, gathering the hood at the
back of his neck. He placed a hand on Grindelwald’s arm.

The pull of apparition tugged at his gut and it took all of his willpower not to throw up when their
surroundings stabilised. Side-along apparition was always the worst kind of travel, made even
worse by the feel of the dark wizard’s magic against his.

It was the smell that hit him first. Hadrian wrinkled his nose. It was hard to describe - a mixture of
smoke, sweat and something rotten. He let go of Grindelwald and stared at their immediate
surroundings, only a little aware that the man cast a disillusionment spell on them.

“Merlin,” he breathed.
The gunfire was a constant rattle, bursts of hot, white light accompanying the sound. It was
everywhere, flanking them on all sides. Huge, grey clouds were gathered ahead, thick rain pelting
from the sky. The droplets hit his head, but all Hadrian could do was blink. His boots sunk into
slodgy mud.

“Come,” Grindewald said, his face completely devoid of emotion.

“Won’t it hit us?” Hadrian asked, eyeing the gunfire.

“No, little snake. I have protected us from the Muggle weapons. Magical shields work in the same
way.” He began to walk.

As both of them crossed the muddy wasteland, Hadrian found his eyes moving to view everything.
In the distance, there was a whistling sound from the sky before dirt exploded and cries rose up in
some horrifying crescendo. There were swathes of barbed wire, broken wood and bodies...so many
bodies. Some were caught in the wire, some were just rotting in the mud like discarded pigs.
Hadrian found himself pausing at one body that was slumped backwards over a piece of metal. The
soldier’s helmet had come off, exposing a once-youthful face that was deathly pale...eyes blank
and unseeing. His death was obvious - the huge eruption of his stomach open and exposed for the
flies to feast on.

Voldemort’s extensive use of Crucio seemed like a walk in the park to this.

Hadrian turned away from the body, trying to gulp down fresh air but the only air he drank down
was fetid and cloying. He gagged, bringing his hands to his knees.

“There is still much to see.”

He glared at Grindelwald. “I think I have seen enough.”

The other man made a thoughtful noise. “I think not.”

Hadrian gathered his bearings and followed. He walked around more fallen bodies, rubble and
broken parts of machinery and bombs. There was no closing his eyes to escape the horrors that
faced him, less he fell into a ditch or onto a bloated body. The smell was awful, causing him to
gather his cloak and hold it against his face.

They saw more of the same until a whistling sound caught his attention. A trench. Hadrian froze on
the spot. Something like a greenish-tinted mist was billowing up from the unnatural crack in the
earth where the men huddled away from the artillery and gunfire. Grindelwald was beside him.

“A gas attack.” A hand brushed over Hadrian’s front. “Which is why we go no further than this.
Our magical protections will handle a few bullets from their weaponry, but I would not be able to
save you from their weapons of mass destruction.”

Hadrian’s mouth opened as he saw men squirming to get over the top, over into No Man’s Land.
Their hands fumbled for their gas masks. Someone was shouting - screaming. Gurgling.

“Those who cannot attach their mask, will most likely die,” the dark wizard noted beside him.
“Their lungs fill with liquid.”

Hadrian just watched in horror - a useless voyeur - as a moustached man clawed at his throat, eye
bulging out of his sockets. “I have seen enough,” he rasped, voice catching in the back of his throat.
When there was no response, he squeezed his eyes and looked away. “Please...I have seen
enough.”
He was barely aware of a hand taking his arm before his stomach squeezed with the disapparition.
When they were back in the wizard’s living quarters, Hadrian tugged away from the hand and ran
into the bathroom where he promptly threw up in the toilet. He rested his head against the
porcelain, welcoming the coolness against his sweaty forehead. His hands tore at his boots, which
were covered in mud and whatever else, throwing them into the corner of the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, he emerged to find Grindelwald waiting for him, a cup of water outstretched
towards Hadrian.

He nodded a thanks, taking a comfortable sofa opposite from where the man sat. There was a
small, dark wooden table between them with some kind of yellow flower in a vase. Hadrian sipped
the cold water, welcoming it down to chase away the tang of vomit on his tongue and down his
throat.

“Tell me what you saw.”

Hadrian blinked, holding the glass between his hands. “I did not realise it was like that. The way
they talk of the wars in the future…” he trailed off, seeing in his mind’s eye all the heroic war
films and documentaries that his Uncle used to watch on a Sunday morning.

“The Muggles talk that way even now, Hadrian. Their newspapers talk about their heroes in the
trenches, on how they are fighting a glorious fight for the freedom of their countries. What do you
know of the wars?”

His tongue wetted his lips. “I know what Hitler is doing. I know about the gas chambers. I just-”

“Sometimes, it is easier for us to distance ourselves from such events.”

Hadrian nodded. “But this war…”

“It will not be the last, will it?”

Emerald eyes rose. “No. Not like this...this is the last world war.”

“In your timeline so far.” Grindelwald tapped a hand on his leg. “The last time we exposed
ourselves to the Muggles, they hunted our kind. Wizards wanted to live amongst them, breed with
them. Their technology grows stronger. If they decided to drop one of their ‘bombs’ onto a wizard
settlement, that would be it. A whole village or town, destroyed.”

“This does not happen,” Hadrian denied.

Grindelwald gave an empty smile. “The vision of the future I Saw...twenty years ago now...showed
to me a world unlike this. It was a point in the future I could not name. But I saw it. I saw the
End.”

Something heavy twisted in Hadrian’s gut as he allowed the man’s words to sink in. He wanted to
protest, but how could he? It did not matter if Grindelwald was telling the truth or not about being
a Seer. A nuclear weapon - they were constantly being talked about on the news his Aunt and
Uncle watched. Vernon would always interject with a, “Bollocks to getting rid of our Nukes! If
they have them, we better!”

It was a ‘what if’. Hadrian saw how his Aunt and Uncle treated people who ‘weren’t like them’.

“I cannot kill Dumbledore for you.”

 Grindelwald was silent for a long moment. “Dumbledore will be opposed to our ideology.”

Hadrian grimaced. “I know who Dumbledore is. I know what he puts his values in.”

“So, it is me who perishes in your future.” The dark wizard just raised his eyebrows at Hadrian’s
disappointed expression. “Only one of us can survive this.”

“He will never kill you,” Hadrian replied. “You mean too much to him.”

“Ah yes.” Grindelwald’s mouth curved into a smile. “Albus’ big secret from the world. Tell me,
does he still value ‘love’ beyond anything else?” At Hadrian’s silence, he laughed. “No, he cannot
or will not kill me...but I would be a willing martyr for the cause. I will not make you promise to
kill Dumbledore for me, because I know that one day, you will have to kill him to protect
yourself.”

Dark eyebrows flew up, a scoffing laugh flying from the younger male’s lips.

“Oh, you doubt it?” That smile deepened, a wicked quality to the sides that instantly dissolved any
humour in Hadrian. “You think he will sit idly by and watch you perform such rich, dark magic?
Blood magic requires vast power, and so effortlessly you wielded it. Do you think Albus would sit
by? He knows the power of blood magic first hand. Across the world, our magical heritage has
been eroded away.”

“Like ritual magic.”

Grindelwald chuckled. “Exactly, little snake.”

“But I don’t understand why blood and ritual magic have been deemed as ‘dark’. The ritual magic I
have done has been...pure, wholesome even. I understand a bit more on blood magic, given how
dangerous it is.” He paused. “To- My friend,” he corrected, “told me that ritual magic was
discontinued because of Muggleborns and their culture.”

“Exactly right. It was seen as too ‘old’. I believe there was a very popular book over a hundred
years ago that depicted it as a large orgy. The more we open our culture, the more we erode ours.”

“Why not just shut the Muggles away? Lock down the Wizarding World?”

Grindelwald shook his head. “You think that will stop them obliterating everything?”

Hadrian opened and then closed his mouth. He sipped his water and rested back in the chair.

“I have been waiting for a long time for someone like you.” Blue eyes twinkled. “Your future is no
more, ever since you stepped foot into this timeline. I have never wanted a child, but the idea of
mentoring has recently interested me. I want to watch you flourish, little snake. I want to be the one
to show you all that you are capable of, and more. No restrictions, no laws in the way. Just your
unbridled power. Let me mentor you, Hadrian.”

Chapter End Notes

A massive nod to Wilfred Owen's 'Dulce et Decorum Est' for the inspiration for the
war scene.
 Chapter 32
Chapter Notes

So sorry this is very late! I will warn from here on, that updates may be more sporadic
due to RL obligations! I am trying hard juggle everything at the moment.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Hadrian felt the blade slip in his sweaty grip. He took in a ragged
breath that burned down into his lungs - his body battling against the iciness of the air.

“Giving up?”

He shook his head, unable to find the words as he drew the small, curved blade up once more.

The attack came harder. There was a flurry of movement as he worked hard to duck and spin out of
the way of the knife that stabbed at him. Hadrian tried to employ his blade, but the hesitation was
all his opponent needed.

Sharp pain bloomed in his shoulder. He gasped, hearing the echo of his weapon clatter to the stone
ground.

“Not good enough,” said Vivienne, her dark eyes drinking in the curved blade that was embedded
in the youth’s shoulder.

Hadrian’s vision wobbled as he glanced down at the injury - his fifth one of the week so far. He
was lucky at this point only for five. The French woman had gone easy on him to begin with,
teaching him various stances and movements. However, she soon learned that Hadrian was best
when he learnt along the way and it had not taken too long for the sparring to begin.

“”I am trying,” he bit out.

Her lips twitched downwards. “It does not look like it.” She started to walk away, towards the
thick, stone bench that stood in the courtyard.

Clenching his teeth against the pain, he moved, keeping his upper body as still as possible and he
eventually lowered himself beside her. Her dark hand rose and grasped the hilt of the dagger.

Hadrian did not close his eyes. He watched her fascinated expression as she pulled . His vision
darkened at the edges, but he fought it away, chasing after the minute details of her face as she
revelled in the blood that cascaded down from the wound.

“You’re a sadist,” he said, voice coming out as a rasp. The healing magic washed over his
shoulder, numbing the area as his muscles and flesh knitted itself together.

Vivienne just hummed, raising her blade and watching Hadrian’s blood drip onto the pale stone
slabs.

He took his flask from next to him, uncapping it with one hand whilst he held the bottle in between
his thighs. The cool water splashed against his tongue, and he could have moaned in ecstasy at the
refreshing taste after the lengthy spar. As he closed it back up again, his eyes wandered over the
mountains surrounding them. Here, it felt like they were at the edge of the world, enclosed in by
the jagged grey bodies of the mountains, acting like sentinels between Grindelwald and his
enemies.

“You have to want to kill me,” the woman said. She was cleaning her blade now, until its edge was
shining and ready to bite into flesh once more.

“Magic is easy...this...this is hard. Personal.” His fingers touched the silver band on his wrist. It
was warm, absorbing his body heat.

“And as a wizard, you will be able to use magic. This ,” she brandished her dagger, “allows you a
wild card up your sleeve.”

Hadrian glowered. “I don’t need a wild card. I need my magic.”

Vivienne laughed, her brown eyes shining as the skin around her eyes wrinkled. “I thought you
were into your blood magic, Hadrian.” She leant forward. The smell of cinnamon and smoke
carried in the air around her. “There is nothing more powerful than the spill of fresh blood during
battle, to cast the best rituals.”

He blinked. “Wait. Does that mean-”

“You are not ready yet.” The willowy woman stood, sliding her blade into her sheath and taking
Hadrian’s as well. “But yes, our Lord wants you trained in blood magic, given your affinity to that
sort of magic.”

Through his mind, flashed an image of his blade slicing through someone’s neck. The blood
spurting as he turned, gathering his magic… “I have told him I will not kill for him.”

Vivienne did not reply, instead, she strode over to the entrance into Numengard. He worried his
bottom lip through his teeth as he stood up, wincing at the pain. His fingers rose to touch his form-
fitting grey robes, which were now stained with a huge crimson mark. Not the first of the week by
far.

Hadrian followed, entering the castle. There was a slight chill in the air, but it felt warmer than
outside. He rubbed his hands together, trying to get his circulation going again. However, he soon
stopped when it pulled on his shoulder. Vivienne led him to his new set of rooms, where the
expectation was that he would clean himself up and make himself presentable for his afternoon of
study.

She left him inside his rooms, before closing the door behind her, locking him in. As much as
Grindelwald had the illusion of ‘freedom’ with their agreement, it was just an illusion. Every
movement of his was tracked either by his new set of mentors, or the guards. Trust would have to
be earned. Hadrian shed his robes, moving into the bathroom to wash up.

Vivid green eyes stared back at him in the mirror after he splashed warm water onto his face. He
missed his magic. It had been over a week of physical training - building muscle memory, learning
new weaponry and basic fitness. Part of him really enjoyed it, as it reminded him of Quidditch. His
body ached constantly but there was a sense of gratification from the process. A week ago, he had
been locked away in a small cell, and now he had been given a guest section of rooms next to
Grindelwald’s.

What if he had said ‘no’ to being mentored by the Dark Lord? He would have died. That was a
fact, especially as Grindelwald had told him over dinner the night after. The man could not afford
someone like Hadrian as his enemy. Why had Hadrian agreed?

He stepped under the spray of the shower, barely biting back a moan as the water thundered onto
his aching limbs. Positioning his shoulder away from the water, he looked down at the wound. The
flesh was stitching itself together right in front of his eyes. He barely resisted prodding it. It would
join his other new white scars. One was on his stomach where Vivienne had slashed him across his
abdomen and the other was on his wrist where he had fallen during a dangerous area of the fitness
test, his bone breaking free of the skin.

Fifteen minutes later, Hadrian had been led to Grindelwald’s study by guards. That was where he
was now. His finger flicked through the pages of the thick book that had been waiting for him. It
was something he had been reading through for three days now, and he was surprisingly half way
through. He had eaten his way through the volume, due to his growing interest in vampires and
that his next part was all about blood rituals and its links to vampiric history.

Sanguini had been the first (and last) vampire that he had ever met. The coin he had given Hadrian
was still locked away with his Invisibility Cloak, but not with his trunk. He would not be that
stupid, especially when he was dealing with potentially meeting Grindelwald. No, his belongings
had been stored in the Chamber. He had been confident that he would win, but a backup was
always necessary, to protect one of the Hallows.

“...want to speak to you about building in the next steps to control the Muggles…” One of the
voices from the six of Grindelwald’s followers caught Hadrian’s attention.

His gaze rose from his book and he watched Grindelwald lean over the massive roll of parchment
that spelled a lot of their plans. They all surrounded it. The Dark Lord had his hands spread out on
the side of the large, circular table. His eyes were moving across the map. It was hard to imagine
Voldemort having such promising discussions with his followers, representing just how insane the
horcruxes had made the man. If only there was some way to communicate with Tom, to check he
was still keeping the promise not to make anymore. At night he had tried to force himself into
dreams with Tom. Nothing ever happened.

Hadrian went back to reading the book, jotting down information that he wanted to keep track of.

He startled when a hand came down on his shoulder, gripping him tightly. “How are you finding
the read, little snake?” came the Hungarian purr behind him.

“Interesting,” he replied, trying to ignore the twinge in his shoulder.

“Ah, vampires.”

Hadrian noted that the man’s followers still stood there, a bit more awkwardly as they half-watched
the interaction between the two of them. “What is your stance on vampires? Where do they fit in
with your grand plans?”

The hand squeezed harder at the edge of sarcasm. A slight warning. Hadrian had to clench his jaw
to stop a whimper of pain from releasing. “They hold limited powers, but keep to themselves.”

“So, you do not plan to bring them in?”

Grindelwald chuckled. “They are beasts. Dark creatures - parasitic if we allowed them into our
culture.” He paused. “Will you be asking about werewolves next? I doubt the Wizarding
community would sleep very well if we let all of those roam free in the streets.”

Hadrian frowned. “Some werewolves are good people.”

He laughed this time, a full-bellied laugh that travelled over to the people around the table and set
them off, laughing along with their dear leader. Oh, how Hadrian wanted to see their heads roll off
their bodies and slap wetly onto the floor. He could imagine doing it himself, the curved blade he
used during training slicing cleanly through.

“Keep reading, Hadrian.” The hand slapped onto his back before Grindelwald strode back over to
the plans.

He wanted to retaliate, to fight back against the man who laughed at him but he couldn’t. Instead,
Hadrian found his eyes travelling back to the book to continue his reading about the limited
recording of vampires and their use of blood magic. His fingers drifted constantly to the band on
his wrist, feeling the smooth silver. Blood magic would not work without his magic, which
Grindelwald kept from him still. He had tried in his rooms, but ended up leaving a mess he had to
clean up whilst feeling light-headed.

A slight tingling sensation drifted across his scar. Hadrian froze, back straightening. His fingers
fluttered up to it, but it was gone. Tom? His throat clenched with the sudden emotion that hit him.
He had never had the chance to speak to the other male about where their relationship was. Their
business was done. Tom had taken the memories from him. They were not even bound by a bond
that would stop him from actually making any more horcruxes. How much did a promise mean to
the future Dark Lord?

“Harry.”

Emerald eyes widened as the word echoed in his head. There was a horrifying familiarity in the
voice, a sibilant quality that he thought he had left behind.

“...Potter.”

Everything started to darken in the sides of his vision. Before everything went completely black, he
grabbed his bracelet, which burned against his skin.

***

It was dark. There was a light swinging overhead in the living room, catching certain parts of
furniture, but it almost seemed like parts of the very room were missing. Hadrian moved towards
the dark spots, but something within him screamed ‘Wrong !’ and made him back off with
thundering terror.

There was a sound above him.

Hadrian’s eyes followed the swinging of the lightbulb. He found himself moving out of the room
and into a corridor that was tight, and luckily, fully formed. Though, he did not dare touch the
walls. Something about it all touched on the realm of familiar but he could not place his finger on
it.

The stairs were half-missing. Hadrian’s stomach flopped uselessly at those dark voids. He made
his way up the stairs, jumping over whole missing steps or carefully navigating sections. When he
was upstairs, he blinked at the wide open doors. One door was half-missing in darkness, but had
been blown off its hinges.
He then stopped, as he came across a very familiar room, but it was different now. The last time he
had seen this room was months ago now. It was Godric’s Hollow. The storage room he had
discovered the Cloak, was now a nursery. There were broken toys on the floor, and a smashed crib
in the middle.

Sounds of creaking floorboards and wind were left behind as Hadrian entered the nursery. It was
silent in the room.

His fingers danced over the broken wooden slats of the crib, but felt nothing. Not real.

Suddenly, there was movement behind him. Hadrian turned, and his mouth opened. There, in the
shadowed corner of the nursery, stood a tall and pale man. Despite the unusual pallor of the man’s
skin and the slight distort and age to his features, there was no doubt who stood before him.

“Tom?”

Lips peeled back from teeth - a more animal than human gesture. “You dare use my dirty Muggle
name?” The man was fast and slammed Hadrian up against a wall of the nursery. His skeletal hand
wrapped around the smaller male’s neck.

Hadrian scratched at the man’s hands, but a pale hand seized both of his and held them down
against his stomach. “Tom...stop.”

The hand loosened slightly, but still squeezed at his windpipe. Those eyes were no longer
cinnamon but tinged with crimson, even the whites of his eyes. He was older. They were in Harry’s
nursery in Godric’s Hollow.

“Voldemort,” he whispered, eyes blowing wide open.

“Yes, Harry Potter,” Voldemort hissed. “Although, not a baby anymore.”

“What is this? How are you here?” Hadrian gasped. “This is just a dream.”

The hand lowered from his throat, but took Hadrian’s trapped hands, pinning them down against
the wall either side of him. “Not a dream, something else.” The sibilant hiss wrapped around all of
his words, marking his snake-like transformation. “I have been waiting, gaining strength.”

“No, no, no,” Hadrian chanted. “This is wrong .”

Voldemort leaned close, and a flush of warm breath hit the younger male’s face. “Your lack of
magic just makes this easier.”

“You’re just a memory. You are nothing.” He closed his eyes and willed all of this away.

“He has not told you.” There was a gleeful edge to that voice, pitching almost to that high quality
that Voldemort held in the future. “It seems I was not so blinded in my youth, not so trusting of a
pretty face.”

“Go away.”

“Oh, we will be seeing much more of each other, Harry Potter, especially as you are so vulnerable
now.”

***
Something damp was pressed against his forehead. Hadrian barely strung a thought together when
he jolted upright in a seated position. He gasped huge breaths into his aching lungs.

“Sit back.” A hand pressed against his chest and he allowed himself to be pushed back onto the bed
he was on.

He blinked away the tears in his eyes to see a young woman sitting by his bedside. She was very
pretty, like Luna. Her blonde hair was long and flowing and she had a thoughtful expression on her
face.

“What - who are you?”

“Our Lord has me attending to you whilst he finishes his meeting,” she explained. Her hands
wrung the damp cloth before dipping it back into the bowl. She leant over and pressed it once more
against his sweaty forehead.

Hadrian welcomed the coldness on his flushed skin. His eyes drifted closed once more, going over
the horrifying dream he had. Only, it had not felt like a dream at all. It felt like the space between
dreams and memory that he had met with Tom before. The space that Tom had seen the Dursey’s
treatment, and Hadrian had seen the aftermath of the Riddle’s deaths.

There was the sound of the door opening.

“How is he?”

“Awake. He can hear you,” the young woman replied. “I can find nothing wrong physically or
magically. Perhaps this is more of a mental trauma.”

Hadrian opened his eyes as the cloth was removed and there was a rustle of clothes and movement.
He groaned as Grindelwald’s face appeared in front of him. Now he was battling two Dark Lords,
equally formidable - one in his dreams and one in real life.

“It seems, perhaps, I have been too hard on you,” Grindelwald said, perching on the bed beside
Hadrian. His fingers touched raven hair.

The younger male flinched but did not have the energy to move away. It was as if he were drained,
as if Voldemort’s presence had drained him. “I want...no I need my magic back.”

“You have to earn my trust, little snake.”

He breathed out slowly. “My magic is my strength. I am weak...vulnerable.”

Grindelwald hummed. “What would you do for your magic back?”

He swallowed. “Let me earn my trust.”

Those fingers carded through his hair. “What do you fear most, Hadrian?”

Green eyes stared into blue. “Death.”

Grindelwald’s mouth twisted in amusement. “A rather common fear, but one I share. Stars that
burn like us, are not meant for such a common thing as death.”

Hadrian laughed, though it was hollow. If Grindelwald only knew that dying was the easy part.
Death itself, that was another story. Its presence felt nothing like the inevitability of passing away.
Nothing like the acceptance of going to loved ones. It was cold, inhuman and Merlin knows what it
was capable of doing. What was a fate worse than death?

“Fight me.”

“What?” Hadrian moved his head so he could see the man more clearly.

Grindelwald tightened his hand in the younger male’s hair, pulling it back so that those emerald
eyes stared up at the ceiling. It coaxed a sharp noise from Hadrian, who glared at the Dark Lord.
Those fingers threaded back through his hair.

“When I have assessed you are well, after this episode, you and I are going to have a duel.”

“Why?”

“I want your magic released as much as you do,” the blonde man breathed. “Such power on my
side, would be...sublime. However, I expect you to lose.”

“Lose?”

“Your band.” The fingers from his hair lifted and they drifted down to grasp his wrist, where the
silver bracelet rested. “This will always make you submit, but I want you to demonstrate to me that
you can submit without this. Only then, will you earn my trust.”

“Then you will release me from it?”

“No.” Grindelwald smiled. “But you will be one step closer, and I will allow you to use your
magic.”

Protection. That was what he needed. Against Death. Against Voldemort. Only his magic and the
Hallows would provide that. Submission did not come naturally to him. He enjoyed the parade
around Voldemort in the future - the dominance. Riddle had chained him to the wall in that
cupboard whilst he kissed and teased...begged. Submission. He was capable of it. Never would he
truly submit to Grindelwald, but this was about playing the game beyond that. He needed that
Hallow.

Grindelwald removed himself from the exhausted young man. Hadrian lay there, wanting to get up
and not be so vulnerable. There was no way he wanted to go back to sleep and face that snake-
faced thing again.

“Sleep, Hadrian.”

His vision dimmed a little. “No,” he gasped.

“Sleep.”

Everything fell back into darkness.

“Harry...you join me again so soon.”

 Chapter 33
Chapter Notes

Sorry this is late again! Life is getting more hectic and I needed a short writing break
from this for a few days, and the next update will probably be a few extra days than
normal due to work etc.

Important note: This chapter is fragmented and is a style choice, due to the different
aspects that come to work here. If you have any questions about what is happening, it
will all be explained!

11 months later

The hall they were in was vast, and heavily populated. Huge red drapes hung from the staging,
framing the picture that Grindelwald wanted to portray - a legacy and a show all wrapped up in
one. It was the audience that rippled with trepidation as they awaited the next steps to their joint
curiosity. They longed to hear words that echoed their fears, fears of the Muggles and their stupid
war. And Grindelwald fed off it.

Those piercing blue eyes captured Hadrian’s. His hand cradled the younger male’s face, observing
the changes that had happened whilst he had overseen the transformation of his young apprentice.
Those emerald eyes were hardened - a thin, almost invisible scar tracing down the side of his face
near his ear. Hadrian’s lithely, athletic body was decked in tight-fitting robes that would move with
his actions and would hide his many weapons.

“You are getting a reputation, little snake.”

“Is that not what you wanted?”

Grindelwald smiled, nuzzling his face against the other male’s. “Exactly.” He stepped back. “Get
ready.”

Hadrian delved into his pocket and withdrew a mask. It was jade green that shimmered with scales.
Grindelwald had taught him to glamour his appearance but he preferred that a mask was worn, to
make him stand out even more. A man of show and celebrity. The Death Eaters were different.
They wore masks to protect their identities, to protect themselves whilst they fought for their side.
With him being the only masked attendee, it meant that it made him stand out.

He hissed as pain shocked through his scar. His hand rose to press against his forehead. Not now .
Hadrian threw his Occlumency shields up, but as usual, the pain sliced through them. Vision
blackening, he was aware of Grindelwald’s tight face as he fell forward.

***
Immediately, Hadrian was thrown up against the wall. The paintwork crumbled but there was no
sound of it falling to the ground or any sensation of it pressing against his skin. Hands pinned him,
skeletal and digging into his wrists.

“You seem stressed, Harry,” hissed a cold, high voice in his ear.

He pushed at the body behind him. Unlike the rest of the room and house, Hadrian could very
much feel Voldemort. It was the only thing he felt in this strange mind-space that Voldemort
managed to pull him through at times of stress or vulnerability.

“You are a fucking parasite,” Hadrian seethed.

“Such disgusting words from a pretty mouth.” Cold breath ghosted in his ear. “I am very
surprised that you have not offered yourself up to this old man you serve. You do like offering it,
don’t you? If I would have known, maybe I would not have tried to murder you. I could have kept
you as a pet. A little fuck toy.”

He tried to squirm free, but magic meant nothing in this space. “I would have still killed you,” he
answered.

“I may not hold the looks of my younger self, but we are the same.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes, stilling. “What has brought this on? I thought it would be more torture on
the cards. A break from your usual routine.”

Oh, and there had been torture. Voldemort had the advantage of pulling Hadrian into this space
that was not a dream or quite reality. It made no sense, but the mind-Voldemort seemed to find it
amusing. The little amount of magic he had been ‘allowed’ in the first few months had made this
monster grow inside him. A lot of the time he thought it was his conscience. That Voldemort was
just a mere figment of his imagination, led by guilt. It did not quite fit, but Hadrian could not think
of another reason Voldemort (from the future) would appear in his head.

And the man was good at torture. He would strangle Hadrian, try to break his arms and legs in
frustration and worst of all, use something akin to the Crucio on him. Where Hadrian could not
summon a single spell. Powerless.

When he woke up, the mental pain was tough to bare, and there was a shadow of an ache anywhere
which the dream-Voldemort had touched and tortured.

“I do not like him touching you.”

“Why?”

“Because you are mine.”

Hadrian laughed, but it soon stopped when Voldemort’s body pressed flush against his. “What are
you doing?” he hissed. “And I am not yours.”

“I saw how my younger self had you in that cupboard. He and I are the same.”

“You are deluded.”

“You are not to allow that man to touch you.”

“Try saying ‘no’,” he bit out.

“How many times have you said ‘no’ to him?”

Hadrian stilled. He shoved the man behind him, and was surprised to make some movement.
Turning around, he raised his head to take in the bone-white skin and the hollows in the face that
was familiar and yet not.

“What do you want?”

Lips curled into a mockery of a smile. “I want out of this prison.” A long finger tapped on
Hadrian’s head. “I do not belong in this time. You forced us both here and now I have no tether, no
purpose but to exist.”

“What?” Hadrian blinked as the room moved. Often, the dream-Voldemort went on these strange
rants about being ‘the only one’ and ‘unnatural, even by unnatural standards’. None of it ever
made sense. Anytime that Hadrian questioned it, dream-Voldemort would just laugh and give him
a sneer.

The surroundings jolted...warping at the sides.

The nursery disappeared and then reappeared. Things started to fade to grey at the sides and
Voldemort was moving very slowly. He shifted and everything moved with him.

***

“Hadrian.”

He coughed, eyes flying wide open to look into piercing blue. Hadrian allowed himself to be sat up
from where he lay on the floor, his cough subsiding. He looked around, seeing the back of the
stage and he heard the sound of the excited crowd in the background.

“Take your potion.”

Without a thought, he took the vial from the older man and drank it down. Grindelwald believed
that they were signs of stress, a by-product of time travel that could not be explained with the lack
of knowledge they had. Hadrian knew that it wasn’t that. He was having delusions of a Voldemort
trapped between the one he knew from the future, and the one he knew now in the present. Maybe
it was his mind filling a gap with the stress of the kidnapping.

The potion was a source of vitamins and a form of Pepper-Up. It did not make everything perfect,
but it would be enough to keep him ticking over.

“You should sit here and rest.”

He glared up at the man as the cobwebs were blown away in his mind. However, he still felt the
dark presence of Voldemort, almost as if he were watching behind Hadrian’s eyes.

“No.” He stood, refusing the assistance of Grindelwald. “This was nothing.” Hadrian took the
mask from the Dark Lord and slid it onto his face.

“I must insist.”
Hadrian’s mouth pressed into a very thin line. With that tone of voice, there would be no arguing
with the Dark Lord. He yanked off the mask, glaring as Isabella (one of Grindelwald’s advisors)
dragged up a chair. Sitting down, he refused to look at Grindelwald, who made an amusing huffing
sound before he walked off to the stage.

The rest of the backstage was pretty empty. Most of Grindelwald’s people were either in amidst the
crowds, or with him on the stage. His fingers danced on the silver cuff that still rested against his
wrist. Despite promises, Grindelwald had not taken it off. He doubted it would be taken off until
Hadrian really proved his loyalty, like killing Dumbledore.

He frowned as he felt a movement of magic.

Very light. Dumbledore? The man was practically swamped in light magic. It was not abnormal for
attacks to be held at these rallys. At the last one, Hadrian had been there, and had gotten involved
in protecting Grindelwald. However, he refused to kill for the man.

If it was Dumbledore, there would be others.

Hadrian stood up, swaying slightly as pain lanced through his head. Grindelwald’s voice boomed
across the avid audience, drawing out cheers...some hesitant. His magic had been capped by the
man, which left him a little vulnerable with the lack of people around him.

Something was wrong.

There was a sudden scream and burst of energy. Hadrian ran towards the stage. Between the heavy
curtains, he could see the flashes of spells zipping across from the audience to the stage. Still, the
bracelet did not give. Grindelwald was too caught up in the battle to remember Hadrian’s tether to
him.

He burst out onto the stage, yanking his mask on. Ice-blue eyes connected with his.

His magic came storming back to him. Without a wand, he thrust up his hands and a massive,
green bubble rose up around the stage. The fighting stopped. The intruders outside of the bubble
kept throwing spells, but they just disintegrated.

Dumbledore broke free of the robed attackers - Aurors, most probably - and stood in front of the
stage. His eyes flickered from Grindelwald to the masked man.

Hadrian’s hands were still raised, but it was a temporary measure. He did not have the strength to
keep something so strong up for a large period of time. This was of his creation, moulding together
bits of different spells he experimented with. His magic tutor - Frederick - insisted upon that.

“This needs to end, Gellert,” Dumbledore said, voice heavy as he regarded his past friend...lover?

“I agree, Albus. But you see, I have something that gives me an advantage.” He caressed the Elder
Wand in his hand. “Or maybe, a couple of things.” His gaze flickered over to Hadrian.

“This is between us.”

Hadrian saw the hand signal, and dropped the barrier. Anarchy broke out. Grindelwald and
Dumbledore instantly collided. Hadrian discarded a few stunners sent his way, by Dumbledore’s
little army. He hissed out a command, drawing on his core. Instantly, snake-like bonds flew from
the air and wrapped up the group of five Aurors who had been targeting him. They fell to the
ground, screaming as the robes grew actual snake-heads.
He was about to unleash another spell to help Grindelwald, when something caught his attention.
Something different, and yet distantly familiar. Hadrian turned, frowning, seeing a dark shadow
move across to behind the stage.

Hesitating, to leave the scene, he cast a quick look to see the intense battles taking place. Hadrian
slipped behind the curtains. There was nobody there. At least, none of Grindelwald’s followers.

He gasped as ice, cold hands gripped his robes and pulled him into the darkness. Hadrian
struggled, drawing his magic up.

“Mr Peverell, stop.”

Emerald eyes flew open, seeing a shadow of red eyes in the darkness that had swallowed them.
“Vampire?” he uttered. Then it hit him. “Sanguini?”

A flash of too-white teeth, confirmed. “We do not have much time.”

“No, I can’t go from here. I need…” he trailed off, throat sticking.

A freezing finger slid over the silver band. “I know,” the vampire breathed. “You have a powerful
friend.” Something warm and weighty slipped onto Hadrian’s finger. “But you need to be careful.
Everyone will use you, Mr Peverell.”

“What is this? What’s going on?”

Sanguini chuckled. “Your friend found my gift to you, the coin. We have a...deal, of sorts.”

Hadrian froze as the ring that was on his finger grew hot...burning hot. His eyes grew wide. “What
is this? It hurts!” He tried to tug it off, but it was stuck fast. “What are you doing?” His magic did
not respond to his panicked pleas for help.

He was barely aware of cold breath against his ear, then his neck, until pain exploded. White-hot,
burning pain erupted in his veins. Hadrian cried out, hands clawing against Sanguini’s robes. His
head swam and then heat gathered in his stomach as he felt a suck at his bitten throat.

Then, it was gone. Hadrian fell to his knees, stumbling down and out of the shadows. His throat
and head throbbed. The ring on his finger was still searing hot and dark...he could feel the intense
darkness of it.

The glint of gold caught his eye, and the last thing he saw before he slipped away into
unconsciousness, was the sign of the Deathly Hallows etched onto the black stone of Tom’s family
ring.

***

“ He is sick, my Lord.”

“...attacked his neck...no other signs of anything else…”

“...his magic gotten darker?”

“...yes...yes...and he keeps his hand cradled to him...no, nothing...no reason for that
action...maybe...defense mechanism?”

***

Fingers threaded through his hair. It was nice...soothing. The digits were a caress, delicately
moving through the always-messy strands. His body felt weightless, empty.

He shuddered as his eyes opened. Hadrian’s breath caught in the back of his throat as he gazed into
the cinnamon eyes of Tom Riddle. He did not move...or breathe. Those eyes held him down.

Instead of moving or speaking, he stared into the face of his old...friend...lover? They had never
gotten to the point of discussing what they were. He was exactly how he remembered him. A thick,
dark curl hung loosely over a pale forehead, teasing just above those brown-crimson eyes.

“Are you real?” he finally uttered.

Tom blinked before those lips twitched at the side. “Do I feel real?”

There was warmth to those fingers that still threaded through his hair and skimmed his scalp. “Yes,
but so many things feel real in dreams.”

Dream-Voldemort was always real...cold and warm. The rest of the surroundings - his broken
nursery - were always empty of feeling or life. He tilted his head to the side, and then stiffened.

He knew the room that they were in. In his mind’s eyes, he could see the bodies strewn across the
floor by the dying fire. Glassy eyes staring into nothingness, whilst mouths hung open in horror.

Hadrian was sprawled across a large sofa, head pillowed in Tom’s lap. He moved away from the
fingers and sat up. There was no real bounce to the chair he was sat upon, nor feel of any particular
cloth.

“This isn’t real,” he rasped out. He stood up, turning to face the Tom Riddle that he knew from his
time in the past. “This is a dream. Another dream.”

Tom lounged back on the sofa, his arm spread out over the back of it, as he crossed his long legs.
“He is gone.”

Hadrian stared at him. “This is another one of your games.” Somehow, the dream-Voldemort had
morphed into his younger self. That’s what he wanted to believe, but something felt different.
There was not the aggressive, charged energy he felt from dream-Voldemort. No, this ‘Tom
Riddle’ before him felt like a brief flash of the dark and seductive energy he knew personally.

“You needn’t worry about that...parasite, any longer. He is gone. He never belonged.”

He swallowed. “But how?”

“I need you to accept me.”

Hadrian blinked. “What?”

Tom stood, a fluid movement that barely seemed human. He stepped closer, looking down into
Hadrian’s emerald, green eyes. “I have been sent to help you. To free you. To make you ours.”
“This isn’t making any sense, Tom.”

“Kiss me, accept me.” Warm lips brushed over his, in the tease of a kiss.

Hadrian held himself still. He wanted to, with every fibre of his being. This was his handsome
Tom, the one that he had opened himself to. The one he wanted to save. “What is the price?”

“Price?”

“There is always a price with you, Tom,” he answered, eyes sweeping over the other male’s lips,
which hovered just over his.

“I have given you a gift, a very precious gift,” he murmured. A hand, warm, took his and brought it
up between them.

The gold ring glinted between them, the black stone reflecting the gleam of the fire. A triangle was
etched onto the smooth stone, a circle and a line.

“It will go nicely with your Cloak.”

Emerald eyes shot up to meet that familiar, cinnamon gaze. “Tom…” he breathed.

“Thank me, with a kiss, Hadrian.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against those that awaited. It was warm. Tom let his hand
go, instead his arms wrapped around the smaller male and dragged him close. Hadrian fell into the
kiss...and stumbled into darkness.

***

Hadrian came too, screaming.

His nerves were on fire, head throbbing in tandem with the rapid beat of his heart. Everything hurt.
There were sounds everywhere...crashing, yelling and breaking. His stomach lurched.

Hand grabbed him and pushed him over. Hadrian vomited, the acidity burning his nose and back of
his throat. He weakly opened his eyes to find himself in bed, the smell of sick making him groan.
His limbs were weak and his head was sore. Hadrian felt something trickle down his forehead, and
a shaky hand rose to come into contact with blood from his scar.

“What?” he whispered, throat dry. He erupted into coughing.

When he drew up his hand, the silver bracelet slipped off his wrist.

“Come.”

“Sanguini?”

Arms gathered him against a thin chest. “Shh. Drink this.” A vial was held to his lips.

Weakness seized his limbs, and all he could do was accept whatever potion was given him. It was
sweet and sparked his nerves, not with pain but with some vitality.
There was an almighty explosion that rocked the bed that he was in, and dust fell from the ceiling.

“Time to go. Your strength will regenerate very quickly.” Sanguini lifted Hadrian with
considerable strength. “Time to free you, raven.”
 Chapter 34
Chapter Notes

Thank you so much for the lovely comments from the last chapter. I managed to reply
to some, but will hopefully be better at replying to them this week!

I hope you enjoy this, as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Sanguini smelt of ash, smoke and something dark and metallic. His nose was half-buried in
mulberry robes as his trembling hands clung to the lapels. His forehead throbbed in time with his
heartbeat, the pain seemingly reaching down into his very being.

A scream rose up from somewhere nearby.

What was happening?

“Release him, you creature!” a man grunted from the left.

The vampire hissed out something and Hadrian felt a swell of something dark that he recognised as
blood magic. Of course. There was a hideous squelch.

Hadrian shifted, feeling his magic flare to life as the potion began to work. He could have sobbed
in relief. Almost a year...a year of magic not in his control. His arm felt empty without the silver
bracelet, but now he had the ring on. A Deathly Hallow.

Emerald eyes flickered out of the safety of Sanguini’s grasp, to see absolute anarchy unfolding in
Nurmengard. There were more vampires, clad in the same robes as his personal vampire rescuer,
performing some strange kinds of magic that blistered through their air. The floor was bathed in
blood. Bodies were scattered all over the floor in various states. Joining the vampires, there were
Hogwarts students. Slytherins to be specific. Black and green robes danced in various duels with
some of Grindelwald’s finest.

It was what he had hoped the DA would become.

There were the sounds of apparition as Aurors started to appear, joining the students and vampires
in their battles. If the Slytherins were here…

“Tom?” he croaked. His scar warmed as Sanguini strode down the corridor.

“He is here. Fighting, with everyone else.”

“I need to…it has to be me to...kill him.” Hadrian started to fight against the hands that held him,
his limbs feeling like his again and strength returning.

“I am taking you to him, raven. Stay still for the moment,” Sanguini said, voice deep and lulling.

He grumbled but took in a deep breath, drawing in strength. Whatever that potion was, it was
working fast. There was a residual headache, but Hadrian almost felt normal again. He flicked a
Protego up when a sudden buzz of yellow magic came their way. Sanguini huffed out a muted
‘thank you’, before slipping into an open room. He aided Hadrian in standing on his feet.

The vampire’s eyes gleamed with a silver edge, his pale skin gleaming in the moonlight that
poured into the wrecked room. There was a body next to them, her head almost ripped off. He
recognised her as meeting with Grindelwald a few times. Hadrian bounced on the balls of his feet,
feeling his magic buzz. Tom was near. He could feel him.

“I need to go and help Tom,” Hadrian said.

Sanguini put a hand on his shoulder before he could move away. “There may come a time, where
you need to seek safety. I told you, everyone will use you.”

“Including you?” he replied sharply.

“At least I would be honest about it, raven.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed. “Go.”

Hadrian did not need another word. He shot out of the room and almost bumped into two familiar
faces. “Cassius? Silas?” Their faces were ashen, dust on their robes but their eyes were alive with
the fight. “Tom, where is Tom?”

“Grindelwald, up ahead,” Cassius breathed, nodding down where they had just come from.
“Hadrian-”

He disapparated down the corridor, to Grindelwald’s private rooms. Instantly, he threw some non-
verbal stunners at two people who were attacking a group of Aurors. He did not wait there. Instead,
he slipped into the Dark Lord’s rooms.

“ Accio, wand,” he whispered. His holly wand flew through the rooms and into his awaiting hand.
Grindelwald only allowed him access to his wand with a trainer, and when only using very
complex magic. Everything else had been non-verbal. It felt like getting a handshake from an old
friend.

Hadrian paused at the scene before him. There was a flurry of magic. The air was alive and
pungent with it all, making it almost hard to breathe. Grindelwald was smirking, the Elder Wand
flourishing in the air. Tom...he was a warrior. He danced around the older man’s spells and
thundered back with his own magic. His chest hurt, just seeing the other male after so long.

The room was a mess, most furniture destroyed. There were dead or stunned people everywhere.

Cinnamon eyes flickered to him as Hadrian strode over to join the fray. He walked over to
Grindelwald’s side, and both of them paused their duel.

Grindelwald grinned, his hand brushing Hadrian’s jaw. “I do believe that your friend here, is here
to get you back, little snake.”

“Really?” He leaned into the touch, watching the blue eyes twinkle.

“Why do we not show him what you have learnt?” The man’s accent was heavy, some exhaustion
having set into his body during the duel.

Hadrian smiled. “Gladly.” He turned the smile onto Tom.

Tom’s lip curved up at the side, a bead of sweat trickling down into the collar of his robes. He
raised his wand and struck .
Their wands exploded with golden light, the spider web of magic knocking Grindelwald back.
Hadrian held his wand steady. “Tom,” he breathed. His scar burned with heat, magic swelling.

Cinnamon eyes flickered to the ring on Hadrian’s finger, standing out from where he held the
wand. “Hadrian. Together ?”

The slip into Parseltongue made his wand dip slightly, the golden bead of their joined magic
sliding towards him a little. It had been so long. He wielded the language in his spell casting, but it
was another thing to hear it from another’s mouth. “ Yes .” He wanted to keep the Priori
Incantatem going, to drink in the other male’s appearance and to bask in the darkness of his magic.
If only the web lasted forever, and all they had was each other.

But the world waited.

Their eyes collided with meaning and both of them withdrew their magic. Grindelwald
immediately fired a spell at Tom, but Hadrian dismissed it, knowing the counter-curse to the flesh-
eating spell the dark wizard had cast at him many times during duels.

“Hadrian, what are you doing? Kill him,” Grindelwald ground out. He shook his sleeve back,
exposing the silver bracelet. “I command you.”

His stomach lurched. Of course. How could he have been so blind? “You forced me to obey you.
The bracelet was more than trapping my magic,” he uttered, a heady mix of anger and relief
quelling the sickness.

Grindelwald half-bared his teeth. “You saw my vision. You know what the Muggles will do.”

Tom sighed. “We don’t have time for this.”

Sure enough, things were getting louder behind them. The Aurors were getting closer, and it
needed to end this way.

“You would choose him?”

Hadrian smiled, though it was empty. “I choose me.” He raised his wand, knowing that Tom
echoed his movement.

Grindelwald sneered, his handsome features distorting. “Fools.” He attacked.

The two Slytherin’s erected a shield, moving next to each other. They dropped it and struck back.
There was a myriad of lights as the two boys duelled. However, Hadrian’s other hand had slipped
to his trousers, where there were a number of small, concealed blades threaded into them. They
were still the ones from the fight. When was that? Last night? Yesterday?

He drew it out, never taking his eyes from Grindelwald, whose face was red and sweaty under the
pressure of their magic. The Elder Wand was the only protection he had.

“ Disarm ,” he hissed to Tom. “ It will be enough .”

There was an acknowledged grunt.

Their wordless ‘ Expelliarmus ’ burst through the clear shield that Grindelwald swiftly threw up.
His ice blue eyes were huge as he was knocked from his feet. The Elder Wand jumped through the
air, clattering to the space between Tom and Hadrian.
As Tom bent down to pick it up, Hadrian made his move. Grindelwald was on his back, a shaking
hand moving up to his chest.

Blood trickled from the side of his mouth; the rattling sound that came out, wet and fleshy
sounding. Had the spell shattered him? Eyes blinked up at him.

“Does it hurt?” Hadrian asked lightly, his fingers drifting over the mussed, white-blonde strands of
hair that were plastered on the man’s forehead as he knelt by the older man’s side. “I hope it does.”
The side of the blade kissed against the exposed column of the dark wizard’s neck.

Grindelwald gave another wet gargle, blood frothing out.

“After you killed my grandparents and put that bracelet on me...I made a vow to myself.” He
grinned down at the man. “I would kill you and it would hurt. Now, we have the final Deathly
Hallow as well.”

Blood spluttered up to stain the front of Hadrian’s robes. He pressed the blade in, opening up a
deep, crimson thread into the white flesh. And he watched. He watched life bleed out, not just
through the neck but also those eyes.

Tom stood behind him, a silent figure, even when the Aurors burst through into the room. Hadrian
dropped the blade, exhaustion creeping up on him as the potion burned out of his system. The
aches returned to his joints and the throb beat strongly against his forehead. A hand cradled the
back of his head as Hadrian closed his eyes and succumbed once more.

***

Tom was asleep.

In the sunlight, the soft rays drifted over high cheekbones and pale skin. His dark hair fell in
waves, a little shorter at the sides than he remembered, but the loose curls on top remained. Those
long legs were crossed over each other, as he half-slouched in the chair. His fingers held onto the
dark, notched wood of the Elder Wand. On its grip, was a white band with runes etched into it.

The Slytherin looked older. His cheekbones were sharper and it looked like he had grown even
taller. Eleven months had gone by. Yule and their birthdays had swept away with the sands of time.
Everyone would be ready to take their NEWTs and leave Hogwarts. Most in his year were eighteen
now. He was eighteen.

His gaze shifted over to the window, where he could see blue skies. The window was slightly ajar
and the cool, February breeze drifted in and tickled the bunch of flowers that stood on the sill.

It was Hogwarts...home. He was surprised to feel the castle around him. What he had expected was
a prison, maybe even Azkaban. He had been Grindelwald’s follower, after all. His body felt
normal, if not stronger.

His eyes returned to Tom, feeling warmth bloom in his chest.

There was a knock at the door. Hadrian swallowed, shifting up on the big, fluffy pillows. Tom
began to stir next to him, just as the door opened.
Four adults came into the room, all of which were familiar to Hadrian. The Minister of Magic,
Healer Roberts, Headmaster Dippet and Professor Dumbledore all strode in. Emerald eyes
hardened at the row of men that all instantly regarded him with suspicion and distrust.

“Mr Peverell, how are you feeling?”

He squared his jaw at Roberts’ words before he forced himself to relax. “Fine.”

“When can he leave?” Riddle asked, his smooth voice capturing the men’s attention.

The Minister cleared his throat. “Very soon, we hope. There are a few things we need to go over,
for security reasons.” His fingers twirled the end of his moustache. “We have managed to keep him
out of any trial, but we will need his statement.”

“You have the modified Restringo band as evidence of mind manipulation,” Tom countered.

“Can you all not talk over me like I am not here?” Hadrian bit out. He waited until all eyes were on
him. “Can someone please tell me what happened?”

Healer Roberts moved over to his bedside, removing an orb from his pocket. Hadrian eyed it as it
hovered over his body, cringing away from the unknown device. “What do you last remember?”

He frowned, rubbing his left temple. “I remember Grindelwald taking me to the Hall...and then an
attack.” His eyes flicked to Dumbledore. “You fought with him. Then...I was attacked? I fell
unconscious…” Then he had seen that vision of Tom, asking to accept him . “When I awoke,
Sanguini was there. He took the band off me, and helped me out of my room. I told him I needed to
get to Tom.”

“How did you know Mr Riddle would be there?” the Minister asked.

“I-I felt him.” His hand pressed against his chest. “His magic. I wanted Grindelwald gone...for
what he had done.”

“What did he do?”

Hadrian swallowed, averting his eyes. His heart rattled against his rib cage like a prisoner. “He
killed people I once knew. He used me, tried to mould me into his apprentice...or whatever. All the
while, I hated him but I could never say no. I thought they were my thoughts of submission but
when that band came off...I became me again.”

“Minister, this may be too much for Mr Peverell right now,” Roberts interjected, drawing the orb
away.

“I thought you said he was healthy.” The Minister raised an eyebrow up at the Healer.

“He is, physically. Mentally, we have no idea of the damage caused by this experience. Eleven
months under serious mind magic, torture and Grindelwald’s influence.”

“Grindelwald’s influence is why we cannot take any chances,” Dumbledore said, finally.

Hadrian gave a hollow laugh. “You could have taken him on and saved many lives, if you hadn’t
been best friends in the past.” He pinned the pale blue eyes with his burning gaze. “Have you told
them about your dabble into blood magic with Grindelwald? A promise not to hurt each other.
How many lives were lost because of that stupid promise? Everyone knows you could have ended
it...ended him.”
Dumbledore flinched, his face tired and the growing lines on his face more prominent. He was
about to reply, when Dippet came in. “Albus has admitted his mistakes, Hadrian. He attended the
rally to get you back, and right his wrongs with Grindelwald.”

He snorted, folding his arms. “Well, he is dead now.”

“Thanks to you and Tom,” Dippet replied softly. “And the world owes you both for it.”

And the future he knew, was completely broken. Grindelwald had killed his grandparents, giving
no line to the Potter legacy. The dark wizard had not been thwarted by Dumbledore’s hand, and
locked in his castle prison. He was dead, killed by two eighteen year old Hogwarts students...Tom
Riddle aka Voldemort one of them.

“How did you find me?” he uttered, glancing at Riddle.

The Minister closed his eyes and shook his head, features etched in pain.

“Our magic,” Tom answered, breaking the short silence. “I had wanted to work with the Minister,
but I was ‘too young’.” His face remained impassive. “So, I found the coin in your possessions that
you left with me. Sanguini agreed to help me, and once we had your blood...we tracked you down
using our joint magic. Of course, the rest of our friends wanted to come, even if it meant putting
their lives on the line.”

“Are they all okay?”

There was that tug of lips again, that was Tom’s smile. The sign of it warmed his chest and
Hadrian released his crossed arms.

“Yes, Hadrian, they are. Just bruises and broken bones.”

“It has been a political nightmare,” the Minister grouched. “However, what is done is done. It
seems I underestimated you, Mr Riddle.” The man regarded the younger male for a moment before
turning. “Armando, please keep these boys away from the student body for a few days. We need to
get this story right. The public will need their questions answered soon.”

Hadrian looked down at his hand, where the thick ring sat. He ran his finger over the shiny, black
stone and felt a tremble of dark magic emanate from it. This ring, he had seen on Dumbledore’s
finger, eating away at the flesh around it. However, now, it looked innocent enough and he felt
protective over it. A Deathly Hallow. The Cloak. The Stone. The Wand. They had all three.

The Minister swept out of the rooms, beckoning Healer Roberts to follow. Dumbledore’s mouth
was a tight line as he remained in the room with Dippet.

“We will house the two of you in a private wing for a couple of days,” Dippet said. “It would be
best if we move you as soon as possible, due to the amount of attention all of this has gained. Mr
Riddle can fill you in...catch you up. Are you well enough to move?”

“I haven’t tried yet.”

“Armando, perhaps extra observation is necessary first,” Dumbledore said quietly.

Hadrian glared at the man before throwing the stark white sheets off him. He maneuvered off the
bed, wincing when vertigo hit him from laying down so long. Steadying himself with a hand on the
bed, he took in a deep breath before standing. He was dressed in a hospital gown that let in too
much air for it to be comfortable.
Dippet did not reply to Dumbledore. He observed Hadrian as he straightened and thrust his chin in
the air. “Come along, the both of you.” He put a hand on the door. “Tom, can you disillusion both
you and Hadrian, please. Follow closely.”

As Hadrian walked forward, he felt Tom move to his side. His skin prickled with heat at the
proximity and his magic jolted so much that he swayed suddenly. A hand rested against the small
of his back, steadying him. When the disillusionment washed over them, it was like a warm
embrace.

He stepped away from the hand and followed Dippet out. Dumbledore brought up the rear and
Tom stayed nearby. The Hospital Wing was the same as it always was. The Minister was standing
in the doorway to Roberts’ office. It was silent, no patients.

When they emerged from the Wing, it was another story.

Hadrian almost stalled at the vast amount of flowers everywhere . There were huge bouquets,
freshly plucked wildflowers and wreaths. They were stacked upon each other, hanging from
walls...floating.

He had thought that people would hate him. The Daily Prophet had demonised him at the
beginning of his kidnapping and he had been gone so long that people would have thought that he
was working with Grindelwald. To a point, he had been.

Small groups of students loitered around but Dippet shooed them along to their lessons and
threatened with detentions.

Hadrian worried his bottom lip through his teeth, heat rising to his face as a breeze tickled his legs,
bringing his attention to the pyjamas that he wore. He recognised them from his time at Hogwarts -
navy blue with golden thread - and they still fit perfectly. Meanwhile, Riddle (who had fallen into
step beside him) had taken on a growth spurt.

Everything in the corridors was the same, but what did he expect? Hogwarts did not really change
in the forty-odd years from his real time.

Hadrian startled as a cloak was suddenly settling around his shoulders. He glared up at Tom, who
just gave him a neutral look and gave him space once more. His hands came up to secure the clasp
of the large cloak against the base of his throat. The silver was cold against his bare skin, eliciting
a shudder from him. It was not as cold at Hogwarts as it was in Nurmengard but, if the
disillusionment failed for some reason, he would be stood there in his night wear in front of
everyone.

Dippet led them up to the next floor via a portrait that Hadrian had not known about. He logged its
location, but could not manage to hear or see any sort of password the Headmaster used. The
corridors were mostly empty, and clearly classes were in session. It was odd to think that they had
all resumed their usual lessons for almost a whole year, while Hadrian was stabbed and tortured
into a weapon. Thank Merlin that Grindelwald had not begun to wield him, that Hadrian had
sought perfection and pushed back the dark wizard. Hadrian had only appeared at the last five
rallys - the first one where he had to protect Grindelwald from a vocal and rogue wizard who tried
to attack him. The result had not been pretty. Had earned him a quick reputation.

“Hadrian?” Tom stood in front of him.

He blinked. Hadrian had stopped walking at some point and was gazing at a wall. “Yes?”
Wasn’t that what he is to Riddle as well? A weapon. He had been used to see into the future, a
mismatched power control, with Riddle always having the upper hand.

Riddle’s lips were pressed into a tight line. He stepped back, gesturing for Hadrian to go into the
room they stood at. There was a portrait, which had swung open. Hadrian walked in, and felt the
disillusionment charm fall as Tom followed. The portrait closed behind them.

It was a cosy sitting area, with the fire lit and three comfortable chairs around a small table. It was
a world away from the lavish spread of furniture that Grindelwald had decorated their wing of the
castle with. Hadrian’s room had been huge, connected to Grindelwald’s. Only, Hadrian could not
enter the main rooms without permission. Most of the days were spent with his tutors, or at his
desk at Grindelwald’s planning room, studying. No one had really spoken to him much about
anything other than magic and the importance of defense.

Hadrian jolted back out of his thoughts when Dippet passed into his view. However, the
Headmaster was on his way out. The sound of a portrait closing confirmed it.

“Hadrian.”

He looked at Riddle. The boy - no, man - stood in front of the fire, his dark school robes tinged
with amber from the flame. Never before had he looked so much like Voldemort - face pale and
eyes drilling into his. What made Hadrian so different from him now? He had turned a man inside
out, in front of a crowd, just to show strength...to show that Grindelwald was protecting. The only
person who would kill the Hungarian, would be him.

But even with those thoughts, something deep within him called to Tom. It was deeper than it had
ever been before. In the past, it was just a feeling of warmth and a strange thrum to his body. This,
this was different. It was bone-deep, the longing and the feeling of wanting to jump into Riddle’s
body and just take up residence there.

Things had changed when Sanguini had arrived and had shoved that ring on him. Dream-
Voldemort had not returned. Instead, he was replaced with Tom; Tom as he knew him. Then Tom
just appeared in Numengard with a small army.

“What did you do, Tom?”

 Chapter 35
Chapter Notes

So sorry - updates are quite sporadic at the moment, I am hoping to have more time
soon to write.

Thank you to the comments from the last chapter, they mean a lot!

“I did whatever necessary to free you,” came the smooth reply.

Hadrian’s hands clenched into fists by his sides. “Answer me properly, Tom.”

His handsome head tilted to the side, the amber light licking up the side of his face. It made the
hollows of his cheeks darken with shadows. “You should sit down.”

“I want to stand.”

Tom frowned before shrugging his shoulders. “Where shall we start?”

Hadrian swallowed, his knees wobbling. He was still feeling off from the whole experience, and
whatever had been done to him. Wobbling slightly, he made his way over to a single chair that
looked comfortable. It was also facing the other male, who did not budge from where he stood by
the fire.

“Anywhere. I just want answers, Riddle,” he replied, running a hand down his face. Hadrian
flinched when he opened his eyes, to see the Slytherin looming over him.

Tom’s fingers slid under his jaw, lifting it so their eyes connected. “Back to ‘Riddle’?” Those
cinnamon eyes flashed. “Why don’t I show you what I got up to, just to get you back?” He paused.
“Go on, have a look.”

“Legilimens,” Hadrian breathed, and tumbled into Tom’s mind...

***

“Hadrian!”

Hadrian turned, in the arms of the unknown man. There were a few cuts on the side of his face,
and he was pale with magic exhaustion. As the power cascaded out of Tom, his body bent at the
waist with the effort. He threw everything he had at the raven-haired boy, knowing exactly who he
was fighting with. Grindelwald was here.

But Tom watched in horror as Hadrian’s eyes widened in his direction. Before he could turn
around, a green light flared from the other boy, hitting someone behind Riddle. There was a
distinct sound of a body hitting the floor. Tom staggered from the magic exhaustion, his brain
fogging even as he became aware of the screams and feel of intense magic.

Then nothing.

His chest squeezed with pain as Hadrian’s presence disappeared. His knees gave out and he
slipped into darkness.

***

“This is ridiculous.” A newspaper thunked down on the Headmaster’s desk.

Dippet’s mouth tightened into a thin line. His eyes, however, did not leave Tom’s face to look at
the headlines. The old man knew. He had already seen.

“First, he destroys Hadrian’s living relatives...but this? Even if he does manage to get free, the
public will rip him apart,” Tom hissed.

Finally, Dippet’s eyes moved. “Sit, Mr Riddle.”

Tom’s nose wrinkled before he reluctantly took a seat opposite the Headmaster. The old man
looked as if he had aged an extra hundred years in the space of a few days. There was a weight to
his eyes and his wrinkles were etched deep, cutting into his pale face.

Dippet settled back in his chair. “I am very sure that Hadrian will survive, despite his
grandparent’s deaths. From what I have read on Time magic, I theorise that he will still exist in
this reality.” His fingers dusted over The Daily Prophet , the headline in black, bold letters: ‘Is
Hogwarts harbouring dark wizards?’. “It was a mistake to use the Peverell name, for Hadrian’s
identity. I understand that it was a rash decision and one I live to regret.”

“It was a target on his back. Everyone knows he is after the Hallows.”

“At that time, Mr Riddle, I was unaware of the importance of the boy.” Dippet sighed, eyes
hardening. “What is done, is done. We can only hope that Grindelwald is unable to glean
information about you from Hadrian’s mind.”

Tom bristled. “Regardless, we need to get him back.”

The older man shook his head. “Tom...we are a school. You are a student here and my
responsibility is to deliver you an education and keep you safe.”

An eyebrow quirked up. “Like how you kept Hadrian safe?”

“And I am not allowing you to embark on a suicide mission to try and save him. You may be a
powerful young wizard, Mr Riddle, but Grindelwald is highly experienced and a very real
danger.” Dippet’s eyes roamed over Tom’s pissed off face. “Why do you care?”

“What?”

The Headmaster sipped his water. “He knows who you are, who you could be.”

The Slytherin barely kept his eyes from rolling. Instead, his jaw clenched. “I will remember this.”
He turned on his heel and swept out of the office.
***

Tom sat at the huge table in the Chamber, fingers drumming on the thick wood. Cinnamon eyes
drifted over to the seat that Hadrian had frequented so often. His jaw tightened, pushing through
the remnants of a bruise that still marred the pale skin on his lower cheek. Wincing, Tom forced
himself to relax a little.

In doing so, his gaze flew over the paintings...the fireplace...the bookshelves...and something else.
He stood. Tom strode over to the bookcases, before he found what he was looking for. Breaking the
disillusionment spell, a small chest suddenly appeared.

He opened it.

There were a few items laying on top of a silvery cloak. Elegant fingers plucked out a coin. He held
it up to the light, observing the Vampiric sigil and a small hole in the centre. It was a long time
that he spent staring at the item, before shaking his head and placing it back. There were a few
other trinkets, but the next item he drew out was The Tales of Beedle the Bard. He frowned,
opening the pages...and finding notes upon notes crammed into the pages all in Hadrian’s spidery
handwriting. On the inside front cover, the Deathly Hallows symbol was labelled. The triangle: My
Cloak. The line: Grindelwald’s Wand - Elder Wand. The circle: Gaunt Ring (Possible horcrux).

“Oh Hadrian,” Tom muttered. His fingers skimmed over the silvery cloak before he looked down
at the ring on his finger.

***

Lestrange shifted as Tom’s eyes moved over each and every one of them. “My Lord?”

“Yes, Lestrange?”

“Can I speak freely?”

That phrase made everyone’s eyes raise in a mix of trepidation and horror at Silas’ move.

Tom’s mouth twisted. “Speak.”

A tongue came out to wet dry lips. “We have all grown to respect Hadrian, but is it wise to risk all
of our lives for him? He does not exactly join in with us for our meetings, or even really show
respect to you...our Lord.”

Tom lazily stroked the top of Onyx’s broad head. “You question my decision?”

Lestrange’s back stiffened. “M-my Lord-”

“Crucio.”

Silas’ body twitched, his limbs jerking spasmodically against the wooden frame of the chair.
However, the spell was lifted very quickly. Sweat dripped from Lestrange’s temples, black hair
stuck to his forehead.

Everyone’s eyes fell down to the table, not daring any eye contact with the irate Slytherin.

“Hadrian is...very…” he paused, “...important to our cause. Hadrian’s capacity for dark magic is
very similar to my own, and we need that back on side. Grindelwald is a weak dark wizard in
comparison to both mine and Hadrian’s power.” He commanded all of the attention in the room.
“So, you will all train and train hard. Abraxas has put together a series of initial lessons that you
will all be part of. Tonight, I am going to take you down to the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Salazar Slytherin’s?” Dolohov breathed, eyes darting up. “It exists?”

Tom’s mouth curved into an indulgent smile. “I will show you all the true power of Salazar’s
work.”

***

Hadrian stumbled back, away from him. He blinked and shook his head, pulling his mental barriers
back up so that his mind was his own again. However, he could see Tom’s memories flickering
and merging with his own memories.

“The Hallows was an interesting development.”

He glared. “You should have left my belongings alone.”

Riddle raised an eyebrow before walking over to a small table that housed a variety of
refreshments. He poured two glasses of water, handing one over to Hadrian, who took it
reluctantly.

“Then you should not have chosen the Chamber, and somewhere so blindingly obvious.” Tom
sipped his water. “However, you were saved due to that stupid choice. I would never have found
out about your little quest for the Hallows...or the coin that linked you to Sanguini.” He sat down
on the wing-backed chair near the fireplace. “And...as a result, Grindelwald is gone...we are hailed
as the heroes of wizarding Europe...the world even, and we became the Masters of Death.”

Hadrian stiffened. Was it worth it? He was free, but at what cost? Grindelwald was dead and free
of a Dark Lord...for a while. Riddle had become more powerful than before. Tom Riddle was now
deemed a hero. He was the Master of the Elder Wand.

“ We are not the Masters of Death,” Hadrian replied, tightly. “You have the wand...and I have my
cloak and...the ring.” His eyes flickered to the weight on his hand. He put the glass of water on the
floor and tried to slide the ring off but it would not budge. “What?”

“We have much to discuss with the ring and our status as joint Masters of Death. You will not be
able to remove it.” Tom drew the coin out of his pocket. “You were yet to see my memories of
Sanguini, but I shall inform you to save us all some time. He was extremely angry when I
summoned him. I had to wait of course, to really think of what I could offer. The reason he gave
you this, was because he saw your potential in the future...your power and influence.”

Hadrian lowered himself in the chair furthest away from Riddle.

“He wanted you, to begin with.”

Emerald eyes widened. “Me?”

Tom’s lip pulled in the shadow of a sneer. “You are not on the cards to him. Luckily for us, we
have other bargaining chips.”

Hadrian’s stomach plummeted, but he kept his silence. The only thing he could really do was
digest what Riddle was talking about and then try and make sense of it later.

“I informed him of your status as a time traveller, and what the future holds for my position. After
much negotiating, he and I made a deal that when I become Minister...he shall serve as an open
advisor, and that we will pass laws welcoming the vampire community back into the wizarding
fold. Slowly, of course. My work with Sanguini has been thorough, and the deal was made after
getting to know what his intentions are.”

He frowned. “I don’t get it. You are powerful enough to do this by yourself. Why include
Sanguini?”

Tom’s lips quirked at the side. “Firstly, I needed a small army to help our Slytherin’s and could not
just rely on Aurors to come at the right time. Secondly, I needed someone to get through
Grindelwald’s protections without notifying him...and vampire’s have ways of apparition that
operate on a different level than wizards.”

Hadrian raised his hand into his lap, finger touching the warm golden ring. “He gave me this. Why
would you give me a Hallow? And this is your family ring...is it a horcrux?” His voice lowered.

He suddenly froze. Memories of his nursery and Voldemort stirred within his thoughts.
Sometimes, he used to wake up with the shadow of pain in his limbs and mind, as if the torture had
been real. One dream, Voldemort had taken his time in snapping every one of Hadrian’s fingers
and upon waking, he had been unable to use his hand for a few days.

“Hadrian.”

He jumped as a hand appeared in his vision. Hadrian swallowed as he looked up to see Tom
standing in front of him. From this close, he could smell Tom’s spicy scent, teasing his senses.
And he looked devastatingly handsome, with the sharp jawbones and dark eyes. His stomach
warmed and his limbs relaxed slightly.

“Tom-”

Tom cut him off as he leant down and captured the hand that the ring was on. He pulled Hadrian to
his feet and that their bodies stood plush against each other. But Tom did not release his hand, but
drew their joined hands up between their bodies so that he could gaze upon the dark stone.

Hadrian could hardly breathe as he looked up into those cinnamon eyes that he had missed so
much. His own eyes drank in the changes in the other male’s face. Older...more handsome.

“I need to tell you something, Hadrian. I want you to promise that you will not react in your usual
Gryffindor way.”

His eyebrows rose. “‘Gryffindor’ way?”

“I need you to promise,” Tom replied, his voice lowering to a husky whisper that made Hadrian’s
stomach tighten. His lips were close to the raven-haired Slytherin’s, breath warm.
“I will do what I can,” Hadrian uttered. His veins throbbed with want, at the painfully handsome
young man right in front of him. For so long he had dreamt of Tom’s face, to the point where it had
started to blur the way that memories did. His throat tightened. What could Tom possibly say to
send him away, especially after he had rescued him?

A cool hand closed around his, a thumb stroking over the ring. “I tried to contact you through
dreams at the beginning, but there was a block.” He paused. “I believe it was the horcrux.”

“What?” Hadrian answered. “But I did not have the ring at that point.”

“The horcrux you brought back with you, from my future self.” Tom’s eyes bore into his, full of
weight.

He blinked and the information slid in. The nursery…his crib...Voldemort. “What? How?” Tom
Riddle from the diary had been stuck in the memory that he was created in, in the loop involving
setting the basilisk onto the student body. No wonder why his ‘dreams’ involved Voldemort
looking as though he was holding onto humanity by a thread. No wonder why they were always
trapped in the same house - his parent’s house.

Some of the last words ‘dream’ Voldemort had said to him were: “I do not belong in this time. You
forced us both here and now I have no tether, no purpose but to exist.”

“It was blocking any contact, and was the initial reason we were able to share some dreams when
we were in close proximity but it was not completely connected to me, as I am now. Horcruxes can
possess the items in which they are housed.” Tom’s thumb continued its slow caressing of his
knuckles. “The Voldemort you knew, could have taken over if he weakened you enough mentally.”
He paused again, cinnamon eyes dragging over Hadrian’s face as they burned with some deep
emotion. “A human horcrux. I never believed it was possible.”

Hadrian swallowed, unable to think of what he should say. Had Dumbledore known? His visions of
Mr Weasley being attacked by Nagini...seeing through Voldemort’s snake’s eyes. The link to
Voldemort...it all made sense. Part of him even thought that a tiny part of him suspected.
Dumbledore must have known. Was that why the old man had been avoiding him?

“There are only a few ways to get rid of the horcruxes, and all would have left you dead as the
vessel. I instead...replaced him.”

Emerald eyes flashed, a frown lining his forehead. “What?” He pulled on his hand, but Tom’s
fingers tightened in response.

“The horcrux attached to you would have been weak, especially as he would have never known he
had made it. So, I had faith that mine would win in the battle for dominance.”

“The ring? Faith ?” His eyes blew wide open. “You could have killed me!”

Tom’s mouth moved closer. “I said not to react in such a Gryffindor way.” Those eyes held his. “It
worked. The other option was to give the ‘Voldemort’ that you know, more strength.”

Hadrian tried to keep his mind on the conversation, but Tom’s proximity was distracting. “So...is
all this, just the horcruxes?”

“All this?”

He glared, though it was half-hearted. “You know what I mean.”

Tom leant forward and brushed their lips together, Hadrian’s breath hitching at the sensation. “You
were special, even before I discovered you housed part of my soul.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as Tom drew away a little. “When?”

“I pieced it together through your memories and our interactions.”

“I am not happy about it.” Hadrian drew in a breath. “But, I appreciate your honesty. You could
have held this information away from me. I just...need some time to process it. I will have a lot
more questions.”

“I do not doubt it.” Tom’s other hand squeezed his upper arm before coming up to brush against
his jaw. “There is a slight side-effect, which Sanguini warned about.” He watched avidly as the
raven-haired male leaned into his touch. “We achieved magic that is understood by no one. I
experimented with absorbing your old horcrux into the new one - possibly two horcruxes in one
vessel, which meant that I had to balance it out. Sanguini took some of your blood for the ritual.
There is a vampiric blood ritual they use in their culture to bind them together, a type of marriage
of sorts. I was able to perform it, with the mental connection we forged...and so part of your soul
now resides in me...a horcrux of sorts. I used that connection to locate you, and Grindelwald.”

The mental connection? “I have been sent to help you. To free you. To make you ours...Kiss me,
accept me…” They were the words that ‘dream’ Tom had used right before he had woken in
Grindelwald’s castle.

“Why? I don’t understand,” Hadrian asked, his eyes wide and a shudder of fear chasing down his
spine.

“The prophecy said it all...you are my equal. We were bound even before all of this. And look what
we have become.” Tom’s eyes gleamed, bringing Hadrian’s ring up to brush his lips over the
Resurrection Stone. “You are mine.”

Words dried up in his mouth as his emotions became a tangled mess. Every day he had thought of
Tom, to the point he had questioned many times the depth of his feelings. However, he had always
reigned himself in, given that Tom Riddle did not forge connections with anyone else on any deep
level. Yet, here he was, confessing that he had merged their souls to save Hadrian. Tom had given a
piece of his soul to Hadrian...and absorbed some of his in return. Nonetheless, Tom had gained
everything. He had achieved the role of ‘hero’ and had become the Master of Death.

His eyes pricked with exhausted tears. “Tom…”

“Let me in, Hadrian.”

Hadrian melted as lips finally pressed softly against his. His hands - now free - grasped Tom’s
robes around his hips as he leaned into the kiss. As their mouths fell open, Hadrian moaned as he
tasted the sweet ambrosia of the other male. Riddle’s tongue danced against his, their kiss growing
more desperate.

One of Tom’s hands slid down to his hip, eliciting a shudder from the smaller male as he drew their
lower bodies closer. Hadrian’s hands were free to roam, and all he could do was anchor himself to
Riddle, his hands clutching at strong shoulders that were broader than he remembered.

Teeth bit down onto Hadrian’s bottom lip. A startled moan filled the small space between them,
until Tom’s mouth covered his and swallowed the rest of the sound.

“Tom.” Emerald eyes fluttered open as he pulled himself away reluctantly. His bottom lip throbbed
and his stomach squeezed at the sight of Tom Riddle. The Heir of Slytherin’s robes were ruffled,
lips reddened from their kisses and those eyes were more crimson than they were a short while
ago.

Hadrian took in a weak breath, trying to reign in his thoughts. “Tom,” he repeated warily, as the
taller male moved closer to him again. “We need to talk.” But even he could hear how weak his
words and tone were.

Those reddened lips curved upwards in the shadow of a smile, more feral than human. “We will.”
Tom cupped his face and lowered his mouth to his ear. “But I want to be buried so deep inside of
you, the only words coming out of your mouth is my name...over and over again.”

Hadrian’s mouth fell open a little, a rush of heat chasing down to his groin. He released a choked
sound as lips pressed against his ear, then down to his neck. “Riddle,” he gasped, trying to get a
grasp on the situation.

Suddenly, he was thrust up against the wall next to the fireplace. It should have hurt, but he
detected a cushioning charm right before Riddle’s mouth crashed onto his. This wasn’t slow like
their last one, this was consuming and bone-deep.

Tom grabbed his hands, pinning them above his lover’s head - just like their first intimate
encounter before Hadrian had been taken. He swallowed Hadrian’s cry before pulling back. “Do
you want this, Hadrian?” he breathed. “If you do, you will be mine forever. There will be no one
else.”

As he looked up, his eyes flicked across the handsome planes of the Slytherin’s face. This was an
older version of the Tom he knew from school, from the diary horcrux. However, he was stronger
than the Voldemort that Hadrian had fought time and time again. The Master of Death. Defeater of
Grindelwald. The memory he had revealed to Hadrian revealed a Tom Riddle that still Crucio-ed
people to get what he wanted. However, Tom had fought Grindelwald to get him back. They
housed each other’s souls. Never had anyone affected him in the way that the other Slytherin had.

Ginny had been a passing interest, but never ignited the fire within him that Tom did. Would
anyone? There was Cassius, but he was safe.

“I’m afraid,” Hadrian admitted.

“Afraid?”

“Of the future. What this means.”

“We are the future.”

“That is what scares me.” He gazed into those cinnamon eyes.

“I will not become the monster you knew, Hadrian. You will always ensure that.”

Hadrian drew in a deep breath, trying to calm the thundering of his heart. “I want this...you. I want
you, Tom.”
 Chapter 36
Chapter Notes

I am so sorry for the long wait! I hope it is worth it. Life got a bit more tricky under
the current climate.

Enjoy!

Tom’s mouth covered his as hands moved down to cup Hadrian’s backside. In one smooth
movement, he lifted the raven-haired man so that Hadrian had to wrap his legs around Riddle’s
waist.

As Tom drew back, he maneuvered them into another room - a bedroom. He strode over to the bed,
depositing Hadrian onto the sheets. They were luxurious, much nicer than the ones in the Slytherin
common room or even at Numengard - thick, plump and shimmering with gold thread. Hadrian
looked up from where he sat on the side of the bed, watching with bated breath as Tom closed the
bedroom door and turned towards him.

The man was beautiful. Hadrian had been doomed the moment he met Tom Riddle. Charismatic,
attractive, powerful...everyone around him was drawn into his web. How could he have ever ended
up anywhere else but here? His heart thundered in his chest, making his bones ache.

“Strip.”

His throat became dry instantly, as a rush of arousal shot through him. Hadrian swallowed,
reaching for the button at his neck of his clothing. It suddenly was the most unsexy clothing he
could ever think of, and a rush of embarrassment drew further colour to his cheeks. His fingers
trembled at the button, but as he met Riddle’s eyes, confidence rushed up again. Those cinnamon-
crimson eyes were alight with desire, watching him with avid fascination.

They were joined...in souls.

Did the prophecy mean this? Was this how it was always meant to be?

Hadrian swallowed, twisting the hole so the button popped out. He reached down and released the
last few buttons. It took a moment for him to regain his composure before shrugging off the
material and the cloak.

“Beautiful,” Riddle breathed. He strode over, fully clothed still, and dusted his fingers over
Hadrian’s collarbone. “Lay down.”

The raven-haired male shifted up the bed so that his head was on the pillows, propped up so he
could see Tom. His chest ached, and he longed to cover his body with the thick duvet. However,
the heated look he received from his lover drew all of his attention back to Tom instead.

Riddle was starting to undress himself, removing his school robes first. Every movement revealed
more pale skin, until he was standing naked before Hadrian, his large arousal jutting from his body.
Those lips were pulled to the side in an arrogant smirk, before he stalked over to the bed, climbing
on top to move over Hadrian’s body.
He was the predator, and Hadrian was very much in the role of the prey.

A deep, sharp intake of breath sounded from Hadrian’s mouth at the feeling of Tom’s cool skin
against his. His emerald eyes were wide as he stared up into cinnamon. However, before he could
say anything, Tom’s mouth seized his in a passionate kiss. His body rested on top of Hadrian’s,
pressing their erections together in a single movement.

Both males groaned into each other’s mouths.

Tom bit down on Hadrian’s lip, turning his groan into a whimper before he sucked the abused flesh
into his mouth to soothe it. His hand slid up Hadrian’s leg, squeezing his hip as he rhythmically
pressed his hips into his smaller lover’s.

Throwing his head back into the depths of the pillow, Hadrian gasped as Tom’s length slid along
his. “Tom,” he breathed, finding the sensation almost too much as he turned his head to the side.

The other male used the opportunity to kiss down the column of Hadrian’s neck, sucking and
biting at the flesh as he travelled down.

“Wait.” Hadrian’s hand came up between their bodies, pressing against Tom’s chest.

Tom drew back slowly.

“I’ve never...you know.” Hadrian blushed, shrugging his shoulders when the words escaped him.
Tom’s usually perfect hair hung, loose over his forehead, with the slight curl to the dark tresses.
There were pinpricks of colour on his high cheekbones. How many times had he fantasised about
Tom in this way during the cold and lonely nights at Numengard? How many times had he
replayed the incident in the cupboard, where Tom was so commanding?

“I will take care of you.” There was almost a softness to the husky voice that responded.

“I know,” Hadrian replied, and meant every word.

Tom kissed him ravenously, like he wanted to devour him whole and leave nothing left for anyone
else. It was a hunger reflected in the smaller man, whose hands buried into black hair to anchor
them together.

His hand drifted down, to skim along Hadrian’s erection. The smaller male cried out, bucking his
hips upwards to try and get more friction. He was rewarded by Tom’s hand curling around his
length, pumping slowly once - twice before moving away.

Watching behind half-closed lids, Hadrian watched as Tom sat up. His body was lean with strong
shoulders and narrow hips. Unmarred. Perfect. His hands rose to touch, but stopped when Tom
gave him a pointed look.

“I was serious when I said I want to be buried inside you,” Tom commented, leaning over to the
bedside table, where he opened the drawer.

Hadrian’s tongue swept across his swollen bottom lip, a pulse of desire running through him at the
view of Tom’s slim backside and unblemished back.

Tom pulled out a small vial before returning his attention to Hadrian. “So many nights I have
dreamt about having you here, like this.” His hand returned to his lover’s cock, coaxing a moan of
approval from Hadrian as he steadily moved his hand. “My soul is already deep, so very deep
inside you,” he murmured, voice husky as his eyes grew darker.
He twisted his hand, drawing a longer and sharper cry from Hadrian.

“Turn around.”

Hadrian swallowed, disappointed that the hand around his erection was stopping but he obediently
turned so that he was on his stomach. Now he could not see Tom, he was hyper-aware of his touch.
Fingers travelled down his spine, eliciting a shudder from him until they reached his behind.

Cool hands spread his legs, causing heat to rush up to his cheeks, knowing he was exposed in the
most intimate way. Tom pulled Hadrian’s hips up, peppering kisses across the small of his back to
soothe him.

“Touch yourself.”

Cheeks reddening, Hadrian moved one of his trembling hands to himself, barely catching the moan
in his throat before it escape. His mouth caught in the sheets and he maneuvered his neck so that he
could breathe. By doing so, he caught sight of Tom dousing his fingers in slippery fluid from the
vial.

“Good.”

As the word slipped from his lover’s mouth, he felt a small nudge to his entrance and he stiffened.

“Relax,” Tom hissed.

Hadrian tugged on his erection, gasping at the tone of Tom’s voice. As his shoulders relaxed, he
felt a finger slide into him. He bit his bottom lip at the strange sensation, feeling it wriggle for long
moments until there was more pressure and a second digit slipped in next. This one had a slight
burn and sting that disappeared quickly. Hadrian had no doubt that the lube was helping.

A strong hand took his hip. The fingers slid in deeper, eliciting a groan from both of the men.
Hadrian jolted as those fingers curved inside of him and brushed against something else. At the
strangled noise from the smaller male, Tom chuckled, aiming for the same spot.

With the combination of his hand, and the relentless attention to his prostate - the release hit him
hard. Hadrian cried out, spilling onto the sheets below. His eyes squeezed tight as he panted into
the pillow, his body shaking from the strength of the orgasm. When his senses began to return,
Hadrian whimpered at the tightness and fullness of his entrance. There were three fingers pumping
steadily, taking care to avoid his prostate.

Tom heard his discomfort and his fingers stilled. “You are beautiful…all spread out for me. So
tight.” He pressed a kiss right above Hadrian’s entrance. “I want want to fuck you until you scream
my name, and everyone knows who you belong to.”

A part of Hadrian wanted to see that. He wanted to see and feel Tom lose control. A groan slipped
from his mouth at the vivid mental image, his cock stirring again.

Tom chuckled.

His fingers slipped out and a few seconds later, Hadrian felt something blunt and large sliding
against his entrance. His fingers grasped the pillow underneath him. Once, he had heard a couple
of boys in the Gryffindor bathrooms whispering about how much they had heard it hurt...that they
could not imagine anyone doing it.

A hand slid down his side, to settle on his hip. “Hadrian, relax. Touch yourself for me.”
Hadrian swallowed, palming his now half-erect cock, which had recovered somewhat from his
previous orgasm. A shudder chased down his spine.

Tom squeezed his hip before pulling him to the side.

“Tom?” Hadrian allowed his lover to maneuver him away from the pillows, eyes widening when
he spotted the mirror hanging on the wall. He was on his hands and knees, cheeks flushed with
colour, hair mussed. And Tom… Tom was magnificent, positioned behind him, cinnamon eyes
capturing his in the reflection. A smirk quirked the side of those full lips, eyes glimmering with
want.

“I want you to watch us,” Tom said. He pressed a palm to Hadrian’s shoulder blades, pressing him
down a little, so that his backside was in the air...exposed.

Hadrian bit his lip. It was easier to balance, his elbow supporting his weight as his other hand
handled his erection. He had to thank Merlin for his youth and quick recovery time. Suddenly,
Tom pressed in slowly.

It hurt.

Releasing a pained noise, Hadrian’s hand stilled, other hand gripping the covers until his knuckles
were white. “Tom…” he gasped, tears pricking his eyes.

Hands rested on his hips, gently squeezing. “Look at us...relax.”

Emerald green eyes rose and despite the pain, a shock of pleasure zipped through him. Tom’s hair
was ruffled, cheeks dotted with pink as he held himself still. He was inside him. He made another
low noise as Tom sunk in further. It hurt but Hadrian was transfixed by the myriad of emotions he
could see flitting across the other male’s face.

Eventually, it stopped. Tom bottomed out, hands flexing around Hadrian’s sides. He met the other
male’s wide eyes in the mirror.

He felt full, the pain dissipating rapidly as Hadrian shifted. “Please...Tom,” he breathed.

Tom slowly pulled out before slamming back in. Hadrian cried out his hand gripping his erection
that stirred back to life.

“Hadrian…”

Green eyes flew open and a choked scream fell from his mouth as Tom brushed something inside
of him. That same place as before… He barely heard the dark chuckle behind him as Tom aimed
for that spot with every thrust, reducing Hadrian to a babbling wreck.

He gasped as a hand grabbed his hair, pulling his head up. As soon as he looked in the mirror, he
knew it was over. Tom’s pale hand fisted his raven hair as he pounded into Hadrian from behind.

“Tom, Tom...please,” he chanted. “I-”

A particularly brutal thrust to his prostate sent him over the edge. Hadrian screamed as he came.
His magic whipped up inside him at the release, causing his orgasm to stretch on. Part of him was
aware of a groan behind him, hips pressed against his backside.

Magic danced between them, making both of them gasp at the sensation before they felt something
snap closed inside them.
Hadrian managed to raise his face from where it had planted into the covers, to see a golden web
shimmering between them, connecting them.

“What-” he breathed between pants.

Tom was still buried inside of him, a hand drifting through the intricate web of vibrating threads. “I
think this is a bond.” The golden shimmered once more before sinking into their flesh and
disappearing.

“Bond?” Hadrian asked sleepily.

Tom hummed, withdrawing from his tired lover. Hadrian groaned a little at the sensation,
especially at the wetness he felt trickling down his thigh. He slumped onto the bed, feeling sated
but achy. Aware that Tom had moved off the bed, Hadrian closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

There were fingermark bruises on his hips that he prodded gently. They could be healed but
Hadrian quite liked the visual reminder of their earlier activities. Tom had woken him not long
after he had fallen asleep, having cleaned him up, to administer a potion to his entrance to help with
any soreness.

It was weird, but nice to see Tom looking after him. Clearly, neither of them had expected
whatever had happened between them - the golden bond - but Hadrian was finding that he should
just expect the unexpected in their relationship. Relationship. That was a word that still felt strange.
After so much time away from Tom, he had been fully prepared for their reunion to be very neutral
and one-sided.

Now they both shared souls, a deeper connection than what anyone could share.

Hadrian wiped away the condensation on the mirror, staring at his reflection. Briefly, Grindelwald
flitted through his mind - neck spilling open as the blade sunk in. It was over. He tore himself away
and padded back into the bedroom.

It was dark now, candles casting a light glow around the room. The curtains had been drawn.
Hadrian dried himself and changed into the pyjamas that had been left on the bed for him before
walking into the living area.

Tom was reading (of course) by the fire.

Hadrian’s breath caught at how handsome the other male was. It was so clear how the young male
managed to bewitch everyone around him - sexy, intelligent and charming. And he was his.

“Hadrian, come here,” Tom commanded softly, gesturing to the floor in front of him.

A frown crossed his face even as a pillow appeared at Tom’s feet. Even so, maybe it was the sex,
but he felt more amendable than usual and sat down. A hand threaded through his hair instantly,
massaging his scalp as Hadrian rested his head on the other male’s lap.

“How are you feeling?”

“Strange.” Hadrian stared into the fire. “It is strange being back here...part of me thought it would
never happen. I feel like I am just going to wake up again back in Nurmengard.”

“Understandable, though that feeling will disappear in time.” Tom closed his book, the hand
leaving his hair. However, before Hadrian could protest, those cool fingers took his chin and raised
his face so he looked at him. “Whilst you were bathing, I researched the phenomenon that occurred
between us. It appears we bonded...fully. It makes sense, with our joint magic through our brother
wands and our horcruxes with each other, really. Magic has an odd way of working.”

“What does that mean?”

“The blood ritual I used, utilised the horcrux you had inside you, which had formed the delicate
mental connection we had before you were captured. I have managed to half-convince the Minister
and Headmaster that we managed to do all of this so far with the power of brother wands.
However, earlier, it appears that we had some unfinished business with magic...and it bound us.
Stronger than Muggle marriage.”

“I don’t really know anything about bonding.” Had his parents bonded?

Tom smiled, his thumb sweeping over Hadrian’s cheek. “Instead of marrying like Muggles,
wizards bond, usually with a ceremony and guests. It requires a ritual.”

“So, how did we bond without a ritual?” Hadrian froze as soon as the words left his mouth. He felt
the floor pulse beneath him, and a familiar beat of magic. “Hogwarts?”

“It appears so.”

“So, she took me here...and has bound us?” Hadrian glowered. “The castle has no concept of
consent.”

“Regardless, this protects us,” Tom replied. “A bond cannot be traced to when and where or how it
was formed. It would explain our joint magic and ability for me to find you, without people
knowing the truth about our souls.”

“So...marriage?” His cheeks flushed. “At eighteen?”

Riddle smirked. “It is not like we have overzealous parents to tell us off, or the risk of children.”

“No! Be quiet, she will hear!” Hadrian’s green eyes were wide. He had a horrible image of him
with a large stomach with Tom behind, hugging him.

“I guess if she can transport you in time, she could do anything,” Riddle mused. “A very interesting
image you had in your mind just then, Hadrian.”

“I don’t even want kids,” he grumbled in response. “This...is weird. Maybe I really will wake up.”

Tom bent down, pressing a kiss to Hadrian’s forehead. “Because you are bonded to the man who
kills your parents?”

That ended in a glare shot his way. “Oh shut up, Tom. You are not the man who kills them...plus
they will never exist now. Grindelwald made sure of that.”

“You were magnificent in your execution.” There was a hunger in the depths of those cinnamon
eyes. “I have that memory of you slicing Grindelwald’s neck stored in a vial, ready for when I want
to relive it again through the pensive. You were perfect in your revenge.”
Hadrian rolled his eyes. “Only you would find me killing someone, sexual.”

“Speaking of sex, how are you feeling?”

“Fine. A bit achy still but it is going.” His face flamed again, mind transporting back to that image
of both of them in the mirror...of Tom behind him as he thrust deep…

“I propose we do not leave here tomorrow. I want to map out every part of your body, until you
can’t walk anymore...even with healing potions,” Riddle murmured, drawing Hadrian up into a
kiss. “You are mine,” he said against Hadrian’s lips as they parted.

“You are mine, as well,” Hadrian replied defiantly.

Tom hummed, eyes glinting. “So it would seem.” He paused. “There is something pressing that I
want to know. Why the Deathly Hallows? They seem very dark for someone who was once
Dumbledore’s right hand man.”

Hadrian stiffened. When he was in Nurmengard, he had been so scared about Death appearing, of
that cold iciness that descends before the appearance of the hooded creature. So he opened his
mind and let Tom in. It was easier than before, a slight slip - no need for any spells. But he knew
that Riddle would understand, because his greatest fear was also Death. There was comfort in that.
 Chapter 37
Chapter Notes

Please read the comment at the bottom for the future of the story! And thank you for
all the wonderful comments and kudos!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Days had passed.

There had been so many meetings in the Headteacher’s Office, sometimes with the Minister
himself present. Tom and Hadrian had been confined to their rooms, especially when Tom had
announced that they were in fact bonded after Dippet had told them they were to move back to the
dormitories shortly.

That had caused an explosion.

Both had watched in humour as the Minister had groaned into the face that was plastered over his
face, and Dumbledore had blanched with horror. Dippet, however, appeared resigned to the fate
that anything was on the table when these two were involved.

Everything was a media nightmare. Everyone wanted to speak to the two Hogwarts students who
took down a Dark Lord. The Minister had battled everything on the Law front, personally seeing to
all of the issues surrounding Hadrian. He was classed as a hero, like Tom. Though, he knew they
all suspected who he was during his time with Grindelwald. Dumbledore especially. He was the
one who had pressed the issue numerous times.

Grindelwald’s assassin. The guy in the green mask.

Tom knew. Tom had seen.

Hadrian had only been to a month worth of rallies and yet, his reputation was solid. At
Grindelwald’s command he had sought after those who defied the man’s words in the open forum,
making sure they never did so again. The Dark Lord had preferred Hadrian at his side, which
meant that his executions or torture were usually performed from a distance, revealing the strength
and potency of his magic.

Tom had also felt how much he had enjoyed it.

The Minister had insisted that both of them sign the bonding registry and that in payment for all of
the hard work and sleepless nights he had, they were to attend the Ministry’s Celebratory Ball.
There, they were to be awarded the Order of Merlin- First Class and for the public announcement
of their bonding.

But now, it was time for reintegration.

Hadrian wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers as he stared at the mirror. He frowned at the purple
marks across his neck, one with particularly vivid teeth marks embedded. Pressing a hand to one,
he hissed at the pain that bloomed under his fingers.
“Don’t you dare heal them.” Tom appeared in the reflection behind him, adjusting his Head Boy
badge that he had been awarded this academic year.

“I look like a vampire’s whore.”

“You weren’t complaining when I gave them to you.” Tom strode over, hands sliding down to his
lover’s hips as he pressed a kiss to one of the partially-healed marks.

Hadrian hissed pulling away. “You are evil.”

“Future Dark Lord.”

His lips twitched at the side as he fought the urge to roll his eyes. Hadrian turned, trying to control
how much his stomach was twisting and flipping. The Future. That was one subject both of them
had avoided speaking about. Everything was different now. This was his present and none of the
future could be predicted anymore. Dumbledore was no longer the saviour of the wizarding world.
Hadrian’s father would never be born. His mother might...Lily Evans could still live, but she would
never give birth to Harry Potter. Harry Potter was well and truly dead.

Cool fingers slid under his chin, lifting his face up. “We face this, and we will own this.”

We . Hadrian nodded, leaning into the touch. “I know.”

They finally left their rooms. Tom engaged him in general conversation about how boring Binn’s
lessons had been, drawing Hadrian’s mind away as he recounted one time Silas had been so bored
and stressed over NEWTS he had fallen asleep and fallen over backwards onto the floor during
lesson time. And not once did Binns stop his monologue, even when the class was in fits of
giggles.

It was the smell of pumpkin juice and gravy that made Hadrian stop, just before the Entrance Hall,
where he knew the doors would be open to the Great Hall. Everything smelt so normal, and so
much like home.

“I dreamt about this so much,” he uttered, blinking away the sting in his eyes.

A cool hand took his and squeezed gently. No words were needed.

Hadrian finally plucked up the courage and they both strode forward, but Tom did not let go of his
hand. The action made him feel warm inside, momentarily forgetting what was about to happen.

The Great Hall exploded.

He blinked, frozen in the doorway as every single student and staff member got to their feet and
clapped. It was a thunderous applause, large groups of students whooping and cheering. Hadrian
could not stop the smile and his head shaking at the bunch of crying Hufflepuff girls waving at
them. God, he had even missed them .

Tom pulled him gently over to the Slytherin table. As typical, all of them were very polite in their
clapping, but what was unusual was the emotion . Pride. Respect. Adoration.

Their friends were there. The same friends that had followed Tom to train a gruelling regime after
their taxing NEWT lessons. The same friends that had stormed a Dark Lord’s base in the middle of
nowhere to rescue him.

Hadrian broke out into a grin as Abraxas held out a hand, a massive smile on Malfoy’s face. He
tugged free from Tom’s hand and hugged the blonde. Abraxas made a startled sound before
awkwardly patting a hand on Hadrian’s back.

“It is good to see you,” Malfoy breathed in his ear.

“You too.” When he drew away, his hug had melted the Slytherins and each of them greeted
Hadrian warmly. Adelia, Druella and Sylvia all hugged him tight, as if afraid he would just vanish
again.

Cassius was last, hanging behind and looking tired. Hadrian did not speak, just embraced him
tightly for long moments before drawing away.

“Welcome home,” Cassius said.

Hadrian smiled before returning to Tom, who was observing with a carefully schooled neutral
expression. He took his lover’s hand as they sat down, the Slytherin’s shifting up to accommodate
the couple.

A ringing sounded from the Head Table, with Dippet rising to his feet. The man ran a hand over his
beard wearily, though he had a slight smile at his face. Eventually, everyone started to die down,
although a buzz remained.

Emerald green eyes scanned the table, drinking in the sight of all his Housemates and the sight of
the packed benches. Dinner with Grindelwald was always either a silent affair or some kind of
debate about duelling. Hogwarts was always going to be home. He had never had anywhere else.

“Good evening.” Dippet had taken his place at the owl lectern. “At Hogwarts, we pride ourselves
on looking after each other and within this castle, we become a family. The Founders of this great
school constructed this place to educate wizarding youth, to ensure that you receive not just the
best education but that you leave with friends you need for life. Our wizarding community is small.
That is why it is so important to forge bonds that can stand the test of time and hardship.” He
paused, eyes rising to the student body who had fallen completely silent. “A few of our students
tested those very bonds, even when that meant putting themselves in mortal danger. Tonight we
welcome Hadrian Peverell back into our student body.”

Tom’s thumb swept over the back of his hand, pulling a smile onto his face.

“When Hadrian was taken by Gellert Grindelwald over a year ago, there was one House that felt
his loss more than any, despite his short time here at Hogwarts. I can confirm to you this evening,
what transpired in the downfall of the Dark Lord who took so much from all of us - our freedom,
our families and our safety. On the evening of the 25th of February, our Head Boy Thomas Riddle,
with a group of Slytherins infiltrated Gellert Grindelwald’s base - joined by a group of Aurors when
the Minister was made aware of the situation. In the rescue of Mr Peverell, Grindelwald fell at the
hands of both Hadrian and Thomas. Both will receive a First Class Order of Merlin for the defeat
of the wizard who terrorised the world.”

Applause broke out again. Hadrian swallowed, his smile slipping from his face. He had never been
good with this: public celebration. Killing Dark Lords seemed to be his destiny. When had killing
ever been so welcomed? He had always wondered that in the timeline he had come from. Why did
people just expect a child to kill? Why had Dumbledore?

His prophesied destiny had been to kill Tom...now his bond mate.

“Joining them, awarded the Second Class Order of Merlin are: Abraxas Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov,
Dorian Mulciber, Elias Nott, Silas Lestrange, Cassius Avery, Adelia Greengrass, Druella Lazenby
and Sylvia Selwyn.”

They had all come. Risked themselves. Hadrian stared at the flagstone floor, willing himself not to
give into the emotions that were stirring inside of him. It just wasn’t Slytherin to show that much
emotion.

He barely noted the stamping of feet from the other Houses and the thunderous clapping. In fact,
the rest of Dippet’s speech was lost as Hadrian reflected upon just how much had gone on. There
was a risk he would never see Ron and Hermione again, that they would never even come to
existence. Everyone in the future he knew was at risk. However, in travelling back here, he had
found Tom.

Tom.

Hadrian turned around on the bench to look at Tom. Cinnamon eyes met his immediately as if they
were two magnets drawn to each other. They always had been. Regardless of time, they were
always going to be pulled towards one another. Tom Riddle with his perfectly coiffed hair and his
devastatingly handsome face.

“Are you all right?”

“This is a lot.”

“We can go...I am sure that I can take your mind off this.”

Hadrian shot his lover a dark look, but there was no fire in it. The only fire was pooling in his gut at
the promise in those words. His brain hotwired over to this morning, where he had been pinned
against the shower wall as Tom sucked him off.

A minute or so later, Dippet had finished and dinner resumed. Hadrian took a glass of pumpkin
juice from Abraxas, who sat next to him, before sliding some meat and vegetables onto his plate.

“How does it feel being the saviours of the wizarding world?” Dolohov grinned.

Everyone shot Antonin exasperated looks.

“What?” the seventh year said, plucking a bread roll from the basket.

“You have no decorum,” Druella drawled.

Dolohov’s face flushed before he grumbled into his tea.

“I haven’t managed to thank you all yet,” Hadrian said lightly, pushing a pea around the side of his
plate. “Thank you.”

“It was fun,” Lestrange grinned. “I had to tone down my spells once the Aurors turned up though,
such a shame.”

Hadrian could only imagine.

“It was exciting,” Adelia breathed, leaning against Cassius who looked flushed at the contact.

The Slytherins laughed, exchanging hushed conversations over some of the spells they had gotten
to use in Nurmengard.
Hadrian laughed along with them, taking a few mental notes on what spells he also wanted to try
out as he finished his dinner. Tom had been very busy with training them up. They would probably
even surpass their future selves at this moment, with the strength and imagination they had
demonstrating. Riddle had even taken them into the Chamber.

When Abraxas shed his outer robe and leant over to take the vat of tea, Hadrian froze, eyes fixed
on the crisp white sleeve that pressed against skin. It was pulled taut against a black mark, a tattoo.
A skull, with what looked like a snake coming out of its mouth.

His head whipped to Tom. “Why have they got the Dark Mark?”

A dark eyebrow rose at him. “It was the best way to summon them to me at Nurmengard,
considering a lot of them did not have the power to breach the wards that I have. The design was
something I came across in the Chamber, as well as what I saw in your memories. It seemed
somehow fitting.”

“Fitting? What if they are discovered?”

Tom smiled, though there was a tinge of impatience. He pressed a finger under Hadrian’s chin,
lifting it to fully face him. “We are the heroes now, Hadrian,” he purred. “They will not be
discovered.”

“You have made Death Eaters, despite you seeing my memories?”

The group of Slytherins were half watching the angry exchange, and half trying to cover up that
there was a heated moment going on by chatting amongst themselves.

“Finish your dessert, Hadrian,” Tom commanded, releasing his chin. He pushed a treacle tart
towards him.

“Bastard,” he muttered, picking up his fork and scooping some of the sweet goodness into his
mouth. What had he expected? Had he expected Tom to be Light? No, no he hadn’t but the Dark
Mark lit fear within him.

“Hadrian and I are bonded.”

He choked on a bit of pastry at the matter-of-fact statement that Tom just announced to the group.

There was a round of ‘congratulations’ from the friends, with knowing looks passed between some
of them. Even Hadrian’s ears were hot.

“I hope you will address him in the manner of someone in his position.”

Hadrian frowned as he finished off the last bit of his treacle tart, finding it difficult to get down his
tight throat. He felt relieved when some students started to leave, and got to his feet. Tom stood
with him and they both said their goodbyes to the Slytherins.

It was a silent walk to their rooms, where they avoided all of the other students. Hadrian had led
them to a portrait that would take them to their floor and personal rooms. He stomped into their
living room, and when the portrait slid closed behind them, he whirled around.

“You should have told me!”

“It really has no relevance,” Tom replied smoothly, taking off his Slytherin robe. Cinnamon eyes
trained on his furious lover, watching.
“It is the Dark Mark!”

“We have already gone over this.”

“Not in enough detail!” he hissed. “What were you thinking? You know what it means to me.”
Emerald eyes grew wide as Tom stalked over. Hadrian had unconsciously backed away, his spine
hitting the wall. He swallowed as hands came down either side of his head, trapping him there.

“I do.” Riddle’s lips hovered over his. “We did a lot of work to get you back, Hadrian. So many
nights spent going over plans, learning new spells and securing our future. You know longer know
what the future looks like. But I do.”

“And what is that, Riddle?”

Tom smiled, but it was sharp at the sides, razor sharp. “You don’t need to worry, darling,
Voldemort will never exist. I am the next Dark Lord, but I have you at my side, don’t I?”

“What does that mean?” Hadrian replied hoarsely, feeling their magic dance between them,
electrifying his nerves. The velvety tone of his lover’s voice made every single word a caress to his
already ragged senses.

“I will be Minister. We will protect the wizarding world from the growing Muggle influence...but
you will keep me in check, won’t you?”

Hadrian’s breath caught, seeing the crimson glint in Tom’s eyes. His Tom’s eyes. Tom: the man
who had introduced him to the old art of Ritual magic, who had bargained with Hadrian with the
horcruxes, who had challenged his very ideals...and shared his very soul with him to save him from
Grindelwald. This Tom, was not the broken man that he had envisioned, or had seen as Voldemort.

“I will keep you in check”

“Is that a promise?”

“Maybe a threat?” Hadrian grinned.

Tom chuckled, a dark and deep sound before he seized his smaller lover into a deep kiss. Magic
flitted over their skin, joint souls burning.

It was ridiculous in its extravagance. Would the Ministry have thrown a party like this if he had
killed Voldemort? Certainly, it would have never been held at the Malfoy’s. It was strange to think
that such happiness was born from death itself. They were celebrating two Hogwarts students
having killed a man, albeit a man who had terrorised Europe.

Hadrian stood on the balcony and overlooked Malfoy Manor’s grounds. It was his first time seeing
the building with its land and it was beautiful. The peacocks were even white - like Abraxas’ hair -
and strutted amongst the guests who chatted and preened around each other. Sometimes it was
difficult to make out the wizards from the animals.

Emerald eyes fixed onto Tom - how could his eyes ever leave? Like moths to a burning flame,
people circled around him, trying to get close. But there was no getting close to Tom Riddle. Not
unless your name was Hadrian Peverell. No, he charmed everyone at an arm’s length and kept
them there. Tom was an expert, a charmer, a Slytherin through and through. Lucifer himself, the
face of an angel and the warped soul underneath the fleshy layers of his human suit. Part of that
soul resided within Hadrian now, just as part of Hadrian was nestled right next to that warped, dark
soul inside Tom.

A hand pressed to his chest, as if he could feel it.

“Not joining the festivities, Mr Peverell?”

Hadrian’s lips curved, hands tightening a little on the stone balcony. “Neither are you, Professor
Dumbledore.”

There was a flash of cerulean blue in his peripheral vision as the light wizards came to stand next
to him. Slightly wrinkled hands mirrored the student’s, laying on the smooth sandstone. “A strange
affair, is it not? Such joy from death; a strange juxtaposition indeed.”

“Someone once said to me that ‘death is but the next great adventure’.”

“A wise person indeed.”

Hadrian smiled and hummed. Those were the words spoken to him, after the whole debacle with
the Philosopher’s Stone. Nicholas Flamel would still be alive - having brewed the Elixir of Life
from the Stone. Six hundred years old, more or less. As Masters of Death, how long would they
live for? That, paired with the horcruxes…

“You are quite an enigma, Mr Peverell.” Dumbledore looked up at the moon, the white light
bleaching his still-auburn hair, making him appear much older. Like the Dumbledore he used to
know. “Enough to stir the interest of two Dark wizards. It makes me wonder what the appeal is.
Powerful...yes, but many are powerful.”

“Are you accusing Tom of being Dark, Professor?” Hadrian gave the man a quick side-along
glance, the smile still on his lips. “Tom Riddle is a hero.”

There was not a trace of humour on Dumbledore’s face. “Perhaps he is not the one that I should
have been watching.”

Releasing a small chuckle, Hadrian rolled back onto the balls of his feet. “I have no doubt you were
watching, Professor.”

The older wizard sighed. “The future is a fickle thing. I wonder what it has in store for us.”

“It is what we make it to be.” Hadrian looked at his old Headmaster. “Things are not always so
black and white, Professor Dumbledore. Often, that is where we go wrong.” He went to leave the
balcony.

“We never caught the man in the green mask. The one Gellert kept close.”

Hadrian stared down the hallway. “No, you didn’t.” With those words, he strode away, his hands
clenching at his sides. He needed to get away from Dumbledore to save his own sanity. It was
difficult to listen to someone who claimed to be Light, and yet used Hadrian like a puppet.

In a few months time, he would be away from Dumbledore’s eyes. Just a few months. Dippet and
the Minister had offered for him to stagger his NEWT exams, but he did not want to prolong the
process. He did not want to say, but Grindelwald had forced him to study until he utterly
cracked...studying even when the man was not telling him to. The library and Nurmungard was
extensive. Anything he did not know, Tom was filling in.

A few months and...the unknown. Hadrian had lots of offers...lots, for employment and
apprenticeships but he had no idea what he wanted to do. His expertise was killing or seriously
maiming. How many had been victim to the blades he had carried as Grindelwald’s protector or the
magic that he wielded, under the restringo band that the Lord had made him wear? The Minister
must know, or have an inkling that Hadrian was the man in the green mask, but how could he
prove it? How could he actively go against someone that the public deemed a ‘saviour’?

Ron and Hermione would be utterly disgusted and disappointed in who he had turned out to be.
Tom Riddle’s bondmate, a killer…

Hadrian’s heart clenched a little at the thought of his long-lost friends. He was starting to forget the
sound of their voices, memories fading like they were no longer his.

“Hadrian?”

He blinked, realising he was standing in another hallway on the ground floor, near some double
doors that would lead outside. The gossamer curtains ruffled in the wind.

“Hadrian?”

A hand landed on his shoulder. He startled, blinking again to refocus his vision on Cassius.
Hadrian gave a warm smile. “Sorry, Cass.”

“You were gone for a while,” his friend said, voice quiet and dark blue eyes searching. The hand
on Hadrian’s shoulder squeezed a little, in a reassuring gesture, but did not leave.

Cassius...the same boy who had climbed into his bed and hugged him after his argument with
Dippet. He could have easily fallen in love with the sandy haired, beautiful young man in front of
him. The boy had even taken him to Madame Puddifoot’s for a cake and ‘getting to know you’
session.

“I ran into Dumbledore,” he answered.

Cassius smiled. “Don’t tell Tom that.”

Hadrian shook his head. “Wouldn’t dare.”

“Do you want a walk?”

He nodded, feeling Cassius’ hand slip from his shoulder. “As long as it isn’t around people. I have
no idea how Tom does what he does out there.”

The other Slytherin laughed, leading him out of the doorway and down a little side-path that led in
the opposite direction to the party. Music - violins - floated along the breeze along with general
chatter and laughter.

Malfoy Manor’s gardens were just beautiful. They passed a perfectly manicured series of bushes,
with not one leaf growing out of place. A couple of white peacocks strutted between them, cooing
to each other.

“Are you happy?”

He glanced at Cassius, who walked by his side down the shingled path. “Why do you ask?”

“As your friend, your happiness is my business. We - I missed you when you were gone.” Cassius
stopped and his head angled up towards the moon. “It’s funny, isn’t it? That you appear out of
nowhere, and in the space of a few months, you have a whole group of us training to fight a Dark
Lord to get you back. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Hadrian’s throat tightened, finding it difficult to swallow or even form words.

“I would have treasured you beyond anything, but I could never give what Tom and you have.”
Cassius smiled at him, eyes gleaming. “I love dark magic, Hadrian, but it can be a slippery slope
into madness and self-destruction if one is not careful enough. You came and challenged us,
challenged Tom. You two share something that no one else could ever dare to match. In doing so, I
think you saved us all.”

Emerald eyes averted, finding the ground very interesting. “I don’t know what to say, Cassius.”

A warm hand took his, gently squeezing. “You don’t have to say anything. You have my support.
Although I cannot be a lover, I would take you as my brother.”

Hadrian’s eyes grew hot as he raised them. Cassius was just so beautiful, bathed in moonlight with
his sandy-blonde hair and classically handsome face. “Thank you.”

“And you owe me a whole year’s worth of Quidditch matches.”

His grinned, whacking Cassius’ arm playfully. “You brute.”

“Hey, I infiltrated Grindelwald’s mountain-fort for you.”

“Yeah, and you got a nice medal for it.”

Both friends laughed, heading back to the fray of guests that were socialising together. They
discussed the changes in the Quidditch teams, debating who was going to make the cut for the
World Cup, until they saw someone heading towards them.

Hadrian could feel him before he saw him; a tug on his soul, as if striving for its other half. They
were bonded. They shared souls - part of Tom resided in Hadrian, replacing the horcrux that had
tortured him relentlessly. Part of Hadrian lived on in Tom, in some elaborate horcrux that even he
could not quite get his mind around. Both had survived a vampiric bonding ritual, which no
documented wizard seemed to have ever attempted.

It wasn’t the blast of burning pain across his scar that had threatened his mental stability, with
Voldemort. No, this was a pleasant burn that started in his scar and enveloped his body.

He turned, just as Tom was nearing, giving his lover a warm smile. “Tom,” he breathed, leaning
into the hand that came to cup his jaw.

“My Lord,” Cassius said quietly, bending slightly at the waist.

Hadrian tried to ignore it. They had argued a couple of days ago after lessons about the way the
Slytherins greeted both Tom and himself. Tom had not budged on the matter, but Hadrian outright
refused to answer to anyone who called him by that greeting.

“You disappeared for a while.”

 Hadrian shuddered at the thumb that swept along his cheek before the hand withdrew. “I hate these
things.”

“I know you do, darling,” Tom replied. He offered an arm. “I promise to make it up to you later.”

“You better,” Hadrian grumbled, taking the arm.

Cassius excused himself, returning to the plethora of guests.

“The Minister has approached me informally. He wants me to take the Gaunt Lordship, as I remain
the last of the family line, as well as my family’s position on the Wizengamot.” Tom led them
slowly to the fold. “I will take the offered Ministry job.”

Hadrian nodded. He knew that Tom would; it was inevitable. The man had many offers from all
divisions, especially with his predicted NEWT grades, but there was only one ‘job’ - Junior
Assistant to the Minister for Magic. A new position, just for Tom.

“Ah, the young men of the hour,” Minister Spencer-Moon said loudly, clearly having had too
much spiced wine. “Mr Peverell, we were wondering where you had disappeared to. There are a
few people desperate to meet your acquaintance.”

As he plastered a polite smile onto his face, he held onto Tom’s arm tightly to anchor him into
reality. This was the total opposite of what he wanted. Tom was good in that he saw Hadrian’s
dislike, charming everyone around them so that their attention wavered enough for him to breathe.

This whole event was making connections. Hadrian could have any job he wanted...but having
spent the last year being trained to kill under Gellert Grindelwald, he had never afforded the idea
he would return to normal society, not a criminal. Part of him had resigned his fate to Azkaban. He
had time though, a few more months until his exams. Onyx had already vowed to stay with his
'beloved' at Hogwarts. The sap.

He looked up at Tom as his lover gave a quiet chuckle at a young woman’s joke. Those cinnamon
eyes glittered with excitement at being the centre of attention and it put Hadrian at ease, his
shoulders loosening. Riddle’s face turned towards him, those eyes darkening a little before he
pressed a kiss to Hadrian’s mouth. It was short, but a statement nevertheless. No one would ever
get between them. No one could ever get close.

Chapter End Notes

So, we are actually at the end of Part 1!

Part 2 was never on the cards, but I really do not feel like this is finished. The next
part will take place 14ish years in the future, with Tom as Minister.

I would say, if there is anything you want to see in the next part, drop me a comment
or message and I will try and see if it fits with the rough plan I have in mind. If there
are any characters you want more of, or any other tags etc just try me.

Part 2 will definitely justify the 'explicit' rating, so hold on!

It will continue to be posted on Cacoethes, to make it easier.
 Sequel

Dear all,

Thank you for all of the amazing reviews and support. The sequel is finally starting - entitled
'Solivagant'. You can find it on the series tab above.

Enjoy!

End Notes

Let me know what you think!

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