Chapter Text
"Let me out!"
High-pitched screams filtered around the brunet as he stood dumbly, staring into the glass enclosure at the fat boy who howled cries that were filled with unbridled rage. He banged on the glass with his fist in a fit of anger. Hadrian only watched, half dumbfounded and half impressed with either himself or just the unbelievable situation.
His gaze eventually broke when he was forcibly shoved from the place he stood by his aunt who cooed at her son on the other side. Hadrian's eyes then whipped around just in time to see the snake that was trapped in Dudley's place disappear around the corner, hissing delightfully.
Hadrian Potter knew that he was a freak. He knew because one, his relatives always reminded him of that. And two, strange things always seemed to happen whenever he either couldn't reign in his emotions or just thought really hard. For instance, the way the glass of the enclosure had disappeared then reappeared after Dudley had successfully fallen in, trapping him like the snake he had been tapping furiously at before. Hadrian didn't know what exactly happened, but he knew for a fact that he just wished that Dudley would just stop tapping at that damn glass. And he had.
"Hang in there, Dinky Duddydums!" Petunia cried, her nickname for her son that she usually used within the house slipping out. Hadrian couldn't find his will to reign in his laugh at the absolutely heinous name before it broke from his lips. His short chuckle, that was drowned out by shrieks, unfortunately hadn't gone unnoticed by his uncle as he watched him stomp toward him, his face beet red.
Bloody hell- Hadrian's thought went unfinished as it was cut short due to his uncle wrenching him from the ground by the collar of his shirt. He knew then that he was surely fucked.
Hadrian gets angry at a lot of things. But what he mostly gets angry over is the way Dudley, his round circle of a cousin, treats him like a piece of shit on the sole of his shoe. Now, he does normally get angry with how his aunt and uncle neglect him and just shove him under the stairs at the slightest inconvenience, but compared to Dudley, that's considered tame.
Dudley goes every inch too far. Unlike his aunt and uncle neglecting him, Dudley uses his fists. When he's angry, the fists comes out. When he's sad, the fists come out. When he's embarrassed, the fists come out. It's always the fists whenever he's feeling just a bit negative and to say the least, that gets Hadrian aggravated.
Hadrian technically could fight back, but at the same time, he couldn't. It was like he was shackled down by the fact that if he ever hurt his aunt and uncle's precious "Dinky Duddydums", he'd have to go days in the cupboard with nothing but a single glass of water and a bowl of mushy porridge. Although, sometimes Hadrian supposes that eating mushy porridge in a tight, confined room was nothing compared to getting sucker punched and kicked over and over again.
"You think that was funny, do you?" Dudley snarls, winding his leg back before striking Hadrian with another kick to his abdomen. "I saw you laughing, you freak!"
Hadrian didn't bother to return any words as he stared absent-mindedly at the ugly wallpaper past Dudley. Dudley seeing this, grew even more angry and bent down, ripping the glasses off of Hadrian's face and tossing them to the side. His arm winded back as he prepared to strike his nose and Hadrian closed his eyes preparing for it. Although it never came and instead Petunia's sugary sweet voice called, breaking through the haze of Dudley's rage.
"Dudley, dear!" Petunia called from down the stairs. "Come down for a minute, I'd love for you to taste supper!"
The boy stood up straight, his piercing eyes never leaving Hadrian's glaring ones as he called back, "Coming, mum!"
He then bent down at the waist, planting a foot firmly on Hadrian's bruising torso, causing the brunet to wince harshly. Dudley reached out and splayed a hand across Hadrian's forehead and pushed down so that his skull was pinned to the carpeted floor. Next, he spat on him, the large glob of saliva landing on Hadrian's cheekbone. The last thing he did was walk out the door as if nothing had happened, jumping down the stairs to his dear ol' mum.
"Bloody wanker," Hadrian grumbled, sitting up jerkily and wiping the gross spit off his face. With the remnants of Dudley's saliva remaining on his hand, Hadrian decided to wipe his fingers clean on the other boy's pillowcase. He then followed him down the stairs shortly after, shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. When he arrived, he slipped into the kitchen unnoticed and was greeted with the sight of Aunt Petunia feeding Dudley something from the steaming pot on the stove, the flame underneath small and steady.
"How is it, dearest?" Petunia asked, a soft smile on her face.
Hadrian glowered, his eyes barely leaving the two in the kitchen as he silently made his way to the sitting room. Uncle Vernon was there as well reading the paper, but paid Hadrian no mind. The brunet was glad.
He plopped down into a loveseat that resided in a corner of the room, his eyes trained on the two fiddling in the kitchen while every once in a while glancing over to his uncle. From deep within his chest, Hadrian could feel the hot burn of hatred and anger bubbling with each time his gaze passed between the three.
Hadrian was quite astonished by his relatives. He wondered how they could go about their day or even live with themselves, given that they nearly starved their nephew, locked him away like a bird in a cage, and beat him senseless. Did none of their neighbors ever question the disturbances coming from this house? Had no one wondered where the boy they rarely saw in public got those bruises? Honestly, if Hadrian had his way, he would want them all to experience the same feelings he endured.
Hadrian wishes he could make them see with him eye to eye. He wanted to make Dudley feel the pain he always felt in his abdomen which was constantly peppered with bruises. He wanted Petunia and Vernon to feel the feeling of being locked within a cupboard for days with nothing but porridge and water. He wanted his cousin to feel what it was like to have a burning sensation in his face remain even hours after getting sucker punched. He wanted...
The ferocity of Hadrian's emotions within his chest seemed to feel as if they were bubbling over, a tea kettle whistling furiously as the water within grew boiling hot. The brunet was unsure of how to dispel it all of a sudden, but he felt the need to so bad. He felt as if he needed to hit something really hard, or even scream til his lungs gave out. He-
"Mum, is it supposed to be doing that?"
That was the only warning sign that something was wrong with the stew before everything went to Hell in front of Hadrian's eyes.
His glare slipped from the pot to Dudley who leaned over it closely, eyes squinting as he observed the liquid unseen by Hadrian. The boy's gaze then skipped over to the flame beneath that was gradually getting larger. Then as if someone had boiled a nuke within the stew, it blew up.
The flame beneath the pot grew ten times larger for a split second before dying down while broth spilled all over the place, splattering the walls, the cabinets and Aunt Petunia's ugly patterned apron. But the broth that now decorated the kitchen was only less than half of the stew. The rest was positively painting Dudley's face, scorching his skin and causing a high pitched shriek to rip from his throat. Another scream joined in which Hadrian quickly recognized as Aunt Petunia's. Vernon swore as he threw away the paper and hastily tripped his way towards his two beloved.
"What in the bloody hell happened?" Vernon inquired at both his wife and his son, his arms flying wildly through the air as he slipped on broth that poured down to the tiled flooring.
"I don't know!" Aunt Petunia cried, staring at the mess while at the same time Dudley squealed, "Get it off, get it off!"
"Get in the car," Vernon ordered, yanking Dudley by the shoulders and shoving him into the hallway leading to the door. Petunia hastily followed, her arms outstretched towards her son and giving reassurances. Vernon then whipped his attention over to Hadrian who only watched on in astonishment, his mouth agape. "And you. You did something didn't you, freak?"
"I didn't do anything," Hadrian rushed out, frowning at the accusation. But then his glare faltered as a thought crossed his mind. Did I?
"Don't lie to me, boy," Vernon huffed gruffly, marching his way over to Hadrian. The brunet hurriedly rose from the loveseat, eyes wide and frantic.
"Really, I didn't do anything!" Vernon looked as if he didn't register his words, or he just wasn't listening, as he hauled Hadrian from the sitting room harshly by his arm. The next thing that Hadrian knew was that he was getting jostled into the same cupboard he'd been staying in since he could remember. The man slammed the door shut with a stern bang.
"You better be in there when we get back," Vernon snarled. He turned and walked away, his heavy footsteps getting farther and farther. Before he was finally out the door, he had shouted back one last time, "and no supper tonight!" With that, the door slammed shut, the knocker on the other side bouncing back against the wood from the force.
Once again Hadrian found himself alone with his thoughts in the confined space, sitting on an old, stained mattress and surrounded by bleak, white plaster walls. When the brunet tried to push open the door, he figured out it had been locked from the other side. Sighing with annoyance and surrender, Hadrian slumped against the wall, facing towards the door.
Like a bird shackled in a cage, Hadrian thought bitterly. Until he's let out again, he'll get lost in his mind, Hadrian supposed. Like always.
The next few days were a blur for Hadrian. He'd been stuck inside his tiny little room, barely let out- mostly only for bathroom purposes. When he was let out for the bathroom though, he made that time count. And by count, he meant by prowling around the house soundlessly in search for the wretch named Dudley Dursley who had unfortunately received second degree burns all over his face.
Hadrian nearly doubled over from laughing at Dudley's ordeal, seeing as the boy's full face was wrapped in white bandages, save for the eyes and mouth. It also seemed as if the nurses even poked some holes in the wraps for his nostrils. It was such a funny sight, despite the horrid backstory of it all. And to think it all might've been from Hadrian.
The brunet had been putting those thoughts off, thinking it was utterly ridiculous that he could've caused such a thing. But the unfortunate thing is that something like this has happened before. Well, it might've not been as rather violent as this, but it was still a reaction to something short of his emotions or thoughts. To be truthful, Hadrian thought it was kind of freaky.
So yeah, maybe so he was something of a freak. But he'll openly accept that if that means that he gets to gift Dudley his much needed karma.
Unexpectedly, the door to his room flew open, revealing Hadrian's grossly overweight uncle. The brunet visibly flinched at the sight of him, his face fighting to stay neutral.
Uncle Vernon stares at Hadrian as if he couldn't fully see him. His cheeks are flushed a rosy pink and his hand grips something fiercely- an alcohol bottle, Hadrian's mind supplies. At that revelation, Hadrian's mind blanks and fear creeps in.
"I think someone ought to teach you a lesson, boy," Vernon growls, tossing the near empty bottle to the side. Hadrian hears it break and at the sound, he flinches even more.
"I believe being stuck in here for days on end is enough of a lesson, Uncle," Hadrian says, his voice barely a whisper, failing to add bite.
He's frozen to his spot as he watches Vernon reach out to yank at his arm, successfully dragging him out of the cupboard. He's thrown on the ground in the next second, before being violently kicked in the gut. Hadrian curls in on himself at the sudden pain.
"Locking you in the cupboard is losing its effect." Vernon rears back and crouches, his arm winding. "I think we need to resort to more physical punishments." The fist comes down in a crushing blow, rendering Hadrian's hearing useless, decreasing it to the point he can only hear the high pitch sound of buzzing.
Thankfully, shortly after, Hadrian blacks out. The next time he wakes he's back in the cupboard, his whole being sore all over. The brunet doesn't doubt that there's ten times more bruises purpling around his body.
Hadrian was stuck in the cupboard for a few more days, drifting in and out of sleep as he busied himself with his thoughts. The next time he woke, he's slightly aware of a commotion on the other side. Although, it's not Uncle Vernon back with his fists, but instead it's a multitude of letters with the same wax seal blowing in through the slot on the door.
Hadrian sees this first hand when he had managed to creak the dwarf of a door open an inch when Vernon had forgotten the lock. He also managed to sneak a letter into his cupboard when it had flew and landed just a few inches from the door. He snagged it without his Uncle being aware as he was too preoccupied with stopping the nonstop delivery of repeated letters.
Astonished, the boy took a moment to admire the wax seal on the envelope, tracing it with his fingers before flipping it and rereading the print on the back over and over.
Mr. H Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive,
Little Whinging,
Surrey
What an odd address, Hadrian thought to himself, a small smile playing at his lips. He didn't waste a second after reading it to rip it open. When he did, he could only be baffled. What in the-
HOWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class Grand Sorc. and Chief Warlock)
Minister for Magic: Cornelius Fudge
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Hadrian swore he read the letter over a billion times before he could fully understand what even was happening. In fact, he still can't even understand what was even happening. Wizardry? Hogwarts? Chief Warlock?
It all felt like a funny little prank to Hadrian, he couldn't really comprehend much of it. If it really was a prank, then that was a lot of parchment and envelopes someone had to use to execute that rising tide of letters flowing from his front door. He swore when he saw it, his uncle could've drowned- not that he'd be too displeased at that.
Before Hadrian could register the heavy footsteps coming towards the door, it was too late to even think of hiding the parchment before it was wrenched from his hands. He glared up at his uncle who crumpled the parchment with a sneer.
"That's my letter," Hadrian frowned, launching from his spot on the mattress at an attempt to steal the letter back. Uncle Vernon easily stepped away, the sneer never straying from his face.
"It's mine now." He then slammed the door shut once again, leaving Hadrian in darkness. Huffing, Hadrian slumped down on the mattress, his mind struggling to replay the memory of him rereading the contents of the letter. Unfortunately, he forgot most of the details on the parchment, but he does remember one thing: Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The next time Hadrian jolts awake, it's two days later after receiving his letter with a raging thunderstorm outside. He's been cooped up within the room during it and to say the least, he was a bit grateful.
He never was fond of thunderstorms. It reminded him of the day his parents had both died in the carcrash, when their car had hydroplaned on the road, veering off coarse and into the woods. Of course, he doesn't fully remember it, but he swears he does. Either that, or it's just a conjured dream made out to be like a memory. He'll never know- he was just a babe afterall.
Hadrian's jostled out of his thoughts at the sound of a deafening strike. For a split second, he thought it was just another sound of thunder, but he was proven wrong when the same noise had come thrice more. And, to Hadrian's dismay, it sounded as if it had come straight from the front door. Bang. Bang. Bang.
In fact, Hadrian was sure it had by now. With that fact sinking in, Hadrian curls in on himself more, tugging harshly at the thin blankets he was wrapped up in up to his shoulders. He started to shiver- from fear or the cold, he didn't know.
The same sound continued, banging five more times before coming to an abrupt stop. In that same moment that it halted, floorboards creaked above Hadrian's head and the sound of a shot gun clicking became apparent over the thunder and rain outside.
The brunet could imagine the image of a frightened Uncle Vernon cocking a shotgun he got from God knows where. For some reason, the image makes him let out a breathless laugh despite the fear.
"Who-..Who's there?" Uncle Vernon shouted, the tremble in his voice noticeable. "I dare you; show yourself!"
Hadrian furrowed his eyebrows. It was like his uncle was asking the brute on the other side of the door to break in. What an idiot-
In one swift movement, Hadrian was sure based on the sound, the door had been blown off its hinges, landing messily in the hallway in shambles just outside his door. He flinched at the sound of destruction and the sound of a shotgun going off. It was all too much- the boy thought he might just die from the shock of it all.
"What the-..How did you..!" Vernon said, his tone a mix of confusion and an angry snarl. Seconds after, another cock of the shotgun and another bang sounded before it happened again once more. "Why won't it kill yo-!"
"Where is Hadrian Potter?" A thunderous voice asked, the sound of it rattling the bones within Hadrian's body.
The shivering from the boy intensified as scenarios ran through his mind. Oh God, am I going to die? I'm finally going to die, aren't I? Oh God, I don't want to actually die- I was joking!
"Who are you?" Uncle Vernon asked, the bite in his voice faltering to fear. "I asked: who are you-?"
"Where is," the booming voice began, sounding a bit more irritated. "Hadrian Potter?"
Three beats pass before heavy treads slowly make their way towards the cupboard's door. At this, Hadrian pushes himself up from the mattress, pressing himself firmly against the wall opposite of the door in hopes to get as far away as possible. He then glowers as he realizes that his uncle had ratted him out to the intruder. Bloody traitor-
In a singular motion, the door was ripped from the doorframe and tossed to the side. Hadrian stared after it, eyes wide and frantic. His gaze then trailed to the lower half of a body that he swore belonged to that of a giant. Because the big, burly person standing before him had got to be a giant. No one in all of London was truly that size in stature. It's unbelievably..
All thoughts from Hadrian's mind slipped from him as the burly man with a thick brown beard bent down at the knees and peered at him, eyes black as the night locking onto him in an instant. Hadrian froze, blood running cold.
The two of them stared at one another for a few good seconds. Within those seconds, Hadrian had trailed his eyes away from the man's to survey his body. He was surprised to see no bullet wounds present. He surveyed a second more before his gaze tracked back to the eyes, aware of the slow, warm smile crossing the man's lips despite them being hugged by his thick beard.
"Well, Hadrian? Yeh ready to go?" the gruff man asked with an accent and a twinkle in his onyx eyes.
Hadrian raised a suspicious brow, "I'm sorry, but who are you?"
"I'm Hagrid," the man, Hagrid, says, reaching out his hand towards the other. "And I'm here to take yeh to Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?" Hadrian asked, subconsciously taking the man's hand out of politeness.
"The famed school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, o' course!" Hagrid beams at him before standing up, brushing imaginary dust off his clothes. Hadrian furrowed his brows in thought.
Had those letters not been a prank? He had been fighting with his own consciousness on deciding whether the letters were pranks from Dudley or not. Because to be truthful, no one outside the house really knows that Hadrian lived under a staircase. No one but those residing inside the walls of the abode.
Hadrian frowned, deciding not to trust the man's words, "But magic isn't- I'm not..." Hagrid waited patiently, looking down at him with a glimmer in his eye as he worked to get the words out. "I'm not a wizard."
"But you are," Hagrid replies in a quiet tone, his smile growing by a margin. "You're a wizard, Hadrian."
Bless Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, Hadrian thought, a timid smile gracing his lips as his eyes darted all around the alleyway that Hagrid had eventually led him to through a bloody brick wall.
It was brilliant. Hell, if his relatives thought that he was weird for all the things he did, they'd have seizures at seeing how weird these people were. Well, not weird per se, but maybe peculiar.
Hagrid led Hadrian through the crowds of people dressed in many colorful and differing types of robes. Numerous wore funky hats that just wouldn't do in normal London. The shoppes were different too, selling things that normally wouldn't be sold in, well, normal London.
For instance, a shoppe called the "Magical Menagerie" had owls, rats, toads, snails and something called puffskeins, which were foreign to Hadrian. They were all displayed in the window which had a bunch of kids cooing at it. A store after that sold fancy, velvet-looking robes and the one after sold just brooms.
Hadrian never thought he'd see the day that a shoppe sold just brooms. Some looked fancy and pristine, too, fit for someone with lots of money. Something that he didn't have at the moment.
The brunet hadn't realized he had stopped walking until Hagrid had ambled from the crowd of shoppers to tug him along by the sleeve of his sweater. Hadrian walked along, still stuck in his head and thinking about how unreal this scene still felt.
"Come along, Hadrian," Hagrid grinned. "We 'ave much to do today."
"I'm..I'm coming," Hadrian mumbled, his eyes still observing his new surroundings.
The giant man kept guiding Hadrian gently through the crowds until they arrived at this one shoppe labeled Ollivanders. Hagrid pushed him gently towards it.
"Go on in there, Hadrian. I'll be right back, I 'ave to run a few more errands for yeh." At that, Hadrian turned around, horror written all over his face at the thought of being left alone in a place where he knows nothing or nowhere to go.
Hagrid caught the look, causing a laugh to bubble up from his chest. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I'll be quick, I promise."
Furrowing his eyebrows and frowning at the man, Hadrian gave a reluctant nod. "Fine."
Smiling, Hagrid waved before turning away and continuing towards a shoppe a few buildings down called Flourish and Blotts. Pursing his lips and watching the man disappear through the door, Hadrian turned around and ducked into Ollivanders.
"Hello," a voice sounded from within the shoppe as Hadrian entered. His eyes glanced around, searching for the source but found none. "Here for a wand for Hogwarts, are you?" Just then, a man swiveled around a corner, standing atop a ladder. Hadrian stared for a second before snapping out of it.
"Er, yes. I am, actually." Hadrian rubbed the back of his neck before stepping up towards the podium at the front of the store. "I'm here for a wand."
"I see." The man steps down from the ladder, slowly making his way towards the younger. He now almost looms over him, his fingers scratching his chin as he gains a calculative look in his eye. Then, he whips around, climbing onto the ladder before disappearing from Hadrian's sights once again. Unsure of what to do, Hadrian stood there, staring at the last place he saw the man.
A few moments later, he reappeared with a box and a wand, placing it down on the podium and handing it to the boy. "Maybe that should do."
Hadrian took the wand, feeling the wood of it between his fingers. He admired the work, once again, the object being foreign in Hadrian's hand. The brunet then spared a glance at the man, raising a brow.
"What do I do with it?" Hadrian asked. "Is that it? This is mine?"
The man barked a laugh, "Well, it can be! It might just not be the right fit, though." The young boy stared, not understanding. The man grinned before waving his hand in a circular motion. "Give it a whirl."
Hadrian glanced at the wand he held before looking back at the man. The man nodded, looking eager to see the outcome.
Mentally shrugging, Hadrian sighed before copying the motion the man had done. When he completed it, it felt as if he was shoved back a few steps, air whistling around his ears wildly. When he opened his eyes again, unaware that he had closed them, the shoppe was in complete shambles with boxes and wands lying everywhere. The man before him looked startled, but quickly regained his composure.
"No, no," the man tutted. Hadrian couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed and a little bit horrified. "definitely not that one." Once more, the elder disappeared in the rows of shelves, leaving Hadrian alone to observe the damage.
The same thing kept happening over and over when the man, who Hadrian learned was Garrick Ollivander, kept handing him more and more wands. Hadrian was so close to believing that no wand fit him and was prepared to leave the store without one. That is, until Ollivander whisked around the corner, box in hand and looking as excited as ever.
"Try this one, Mr. Potter," Ollivander suggested, handing him the wand.
As Hadrian’s fingers wrapped around the wand, a wave of warmth and familiarity washed over him. It’s as if the wand itself recognized him, resonating with a deep, almost palpable harmony. The moment he held it, a subtle thrill traveled from the wand and into his very core, filling him with an exhilarating sense of belonging.
The wand felt surprisingly light yet perfectly balanced, its contours fitting his hand as though it was made just for him. The delicate carvings along the handle seem to come alive, glowing faintly with a soothing luminescence that pulsed gently in rhythm with his heartbeat.
A rush of power and confidence surged through him, not overwhelming, but invigorating—like a door to a new world swinging open. He can almost feel the wand’s potential humming beneath his fingertips, a whisper of untapped magic that promises great things.
In that moment, Hadrian sensed a profound connection between himself and the wand, a bond forged not just by choice, but by destiny. It’s as if the wand has been waiting for him, and he for it, creating a perfect synergy that makes him feel, scarily enough, powerful.
“Ah, yes, this wand,” Ollivander says, his eyes twinkling as he examined it. “Alder wood, with a length of 11 inches—an excellent choice for someone with a strong sense of purpose and an adventurous spirit. Alder is known for its resilience and adaptability, qualities that will serve you well as you navigate the complexities of magic.”
He then reaches forward, gently taking the wand from Hadrian. He runs his fingers along the wand’s handle, admiring the subtle, intricate carvings. “Notice the elegant runic patterns here. They’re not merely decorative; they symbolize the ancient traditions of our craft, imbuing the wand with a sense of refined power.”
Ollivander’s gaze shifts to the inlaid Chimera scale. “And this, the Chimera scale core, is a rare and potent choice. The scale’s iridescence hints at the formidable magic contained within. The Chimera is a creature of great strength and transformation—qualities that will resonate with you as you grow into your magical abilities.”
He holds the wand up to the light, allowing the shimmering scale to catch the glimmer. “The wand’s sleek design, combined with its powerful core, will not only serve you well in your studies but also in your adventures. It’s a wand that demands respect and commands attention, just as you will in your journey through the magical world.”
Ollivander offers a satisfied smile. “Yes, this wand seems to be a perfect match for you, reflecting both your innate power and your soon-to-be refined elegance. It will be a fine companion in your magical endeavors.” The elder hands the wand back to Hadrian, who had not taken his eyes off of it.
"How do you know?" Hadrian asked, as he practically cradled the wand in his fingers. "I didn't even..y'know- give it a whirl."
"You don't need to," Ollivander lets out a soft laugh. "Not if you felt it."
"Felt it?"
"Yes. You'll know the wand's right when you get the feeling." Hadrian only continued to look even more confused, but when he opened his mouth to further question, he was cut off. "And you'll know the feeling."
Hadrian pressed his lips together into a thin line as he focused on the feeling he had felt when he had first held the wand. Shortly after, understanding crossed his features and his mouth parted open. The man all but smiled as he witnessed the boy's revelation. The boy returned it.
"I believe you will go on to do great things, Mr. Potter," Ollivander declared. "I can feel it in you and the wand."
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander, sir." Hadrian's smile then dropped as his gaze wandered down to his trouser pockets, forgetting about cost. He looked back up at the man sheepishly. "Er, how much for this?"
"For this wand? It's one hundred galleons, as the core is quite rare and it required high craftsmanship to produce." Hadrian froze. Galleons?
"Oh, I'll have to apologize, sir," Hadrian prepared to hand the man back the wand. "I'm afraid I don't have those...galleons for you-"
"Nonsense!" Ollivander waved him away before nodding over Hadrian's shoulder. "It seems that Hagrid already has it prepared." The brunet turned around, confused at first before he saw Hagrid standing just outside the door, a small sack encased in his large hand and a few wrapped things under his arm.
The man entered Ollivanders, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry about that, Hadrian. I completely forgot about heading to yeh vault at Gringotts first thing."
"My vault? I have a vault?"
"O' course! Yeh didn't think yeh parents would leave yeh to fend for yourself, did yeh?"
Hadrian frowned, "I don't know. I wasn't aware that my parents were even involved in something like this as well."
"Sure they were, Hadrian!" Hagrid said as he placed the sack of galleons before Ollivander, waving his thanks and then guiding the boy out the store.
Once they were outside, Hadrian stepped down the steps before turning to look up at the man. "How did you know them?"
Hagrid glanced at him before beckoning him further down the Alley.
"I first met yeh parents in their second year at the school when I had begun working as the caretaker for the magical creatures. They always visited me down at my hut," the giant said, looking towards nothing in particular as he remembers the memories. "We stayed in touch even after they graduated from Hogwarts. I'd say we were great friends, yeh parents and I. That's why I decided to come fetch yeh myself! Figured it'd best be someone yeh parents were familiar with."
"Do you-..Do you have any stories of them?"
Hagrid looked down, beaming, "O' course I do!" He then steered Hadrian into the clothing shoppe, Madam Malkin's Robes. "I'll tell yeh later. For now, we've got supplies to fetch." The man winked before getting a woman's attention, gesturing over to Hadrian.
In a split second, Hadrian was swept off his feet and placed on a stool for fitting. Hagrid remained by the front, Hadrian catching his eye in the floating mirror levitating before him.
"I'll be off getting a few more things. Madam will be sure to take good care of yeh!" Then the man was gone once again, ducking out of the shoppe and making his way down the Alley.
Hadrian would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy his time at Diagon Alley with Hagrid. In such a short amount of time, he hadn't expected himself to become so fond of a giant man who was, at times, a bit clumsy.
Hadrian swore he had asked the man over twenty times if he needed help carrying the many packages they had acquired over time, but the man always replied 'No, I've got it'. Hadrian was sure that Hagrid did, in fact, not have it. But after they bought an owl from the Eyelops Owl Eporium, finally then did Hagrid admit to needing some help. Hadrian happily carried his new pet.
After an exhausting day of learning so many new things about this new world and shopping to prepare to debut in it at the famed school, Hogwarts, the pair now lounged at a table in the far corner of The Leaky Cauldron. Hadrian sat with something called 'Gillywater' and the Daily Prophet between his hands while Hagrid chugged down a jug of Pumpkin Fizz.
"Can you tell me more about my parents?" Hadrian asked, sipping from his cup lightly while glancing at the paper.
"Sure, I can! What would yeh like to know?"
"Well, anything, really. I never knew them well."
Hagrid clasped his hands, "Okay, then." He then rubbed his palms together, a thoughtful look on his face. "Both yeh parents were Pure-bloods, so that made yeh a Pure-blood wizard which, in some cases, can be fairly handy." Hadrian gave him a look of confusion. "Yeh lineage is very important in the wizarding world- there's a whole hierarchy.
Pure-bloods are at the top, which are people who have no muggle, which is non-magical, ancestry. Half-bloods are second after Pure-bloods, where one half of their ancestry are muggles while the other half is magical. Then, there's muggle-borns who have muggle ancestry on both sides of their family yet they possess the same magical abilities as those with a wizarding ancestry. After that are Squibs and Muggles- those who possess no magical abilities whatsoever. Squibs, however, are muggles who were born from parents with magical abilities."
Hadrian nodded his head, eyes squinting as he worked to sort out the new information from within his mind.
"So, if my mother was a Pure-blood, that means she was born from parents who both had magic?"
"Right you are, Hadrian."
The brunet furrowed his brows. "But my Aunt Petunia's her sister and she has no magical abilities- well, none that she's shown..."
Hagrid hummed, "She must be a squib, then. Her magical core's too weak for her to perform any sort of magic."
"I see," Hadrian sighed as he looked down at the Daily Prophet. While he had been wanting to know more about his parents, something that he deemed a tad bit more interesting caught his eye from the page. "Say, Hagrid? Who's this 'Boy-Who-Lived'?"
"Ah, him?" Hagrid asked, pointing to a boy in the moving picture on the front page of the prophet.
The boy in the picture was round-faced with a somewhat plump figure. He had short, curly brown hair and adorned a nervous expression as his eyes caught the camera. On his forehead was a peculiar scar, the shape of a lightning bolt. Apparently, from the words on the page written by someone named 'Rita Skeeter', he was the famed "Boy-Who-Lived".
In Hadrian's opinion, it was more like the 'The Boy-Who-Peed' because the boy looked like he was near seconds away from wetting his trousers.
Hadrian hummed in confirmation. "That's Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived."
"You say that like I should already know him," Hadrian deadpanned, giving Hagrid a blank stare. "Remember how I never grew up anywhere near the wizarding world?"
"Right, my apologies." Hagrid scratched his beard. "Well, Hadrian, there's a story every witch and wizard knows, and it all starts with a dark time in our world. Yeh see, years ago, there was an evil wizard named Voldemort, the Dark Lord. He was the most feared Dark wizard of all time, responsible for countless deaths and terrible things. Folks were afraid to even say his name, they were.
Days had passed since Hadrian’s time in Diagon Alley, but it felt as though he had never left. After begging Hagrid for an alternative to staying with the Dursleys, Hagrid suggested the Leaky Cauldron. It served as a gateway between the Muggle and Wizarding worlds and was reasonably priced at about two galleons per night—a bargain considering the substantial inheritance Hadrian had received from his deceased parents. Hagrid had accompanied him to open the vault after their conversation.
Once Hagrid had departed, mumbling about informing the headmaster of Hadrian’s school attendance, Hadrian carried his new purchases up to his room. The first thing he did was lock the door, set down his belongings, and collapse onto the bed where he would be staying for just over a month.
It was a relief to admit that the bed was far superior to the one he had at the Dursleys’. Although it wasn’t luxurious, with plush pillows and silk sheets, it was still a significant improvement.
After appreciating the comfort of his new queen-sized bed and the cozy surroundings of the room, Hadrian turned his attention to his school supplies. He carefully unwrapped each package, observing the contents with great interest. He laid each item out meticulously, eager to familiarize himself with everything he would need for his upcoming school year.
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1: By Miranda Goshawk, Hadrian read. A History of Magic, Magical Theory, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Magical Drafts and Potions, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, The Dark Forces...
Hadrian would be lying if he said he wasn’t in awe. In truth, he was not only astonished but also incredibly excited. He was eager to start acquiring knowledge from the magical books that lay before him.
Without wasting a moment, Hadrian removed his wand from its packaging and grabbed the spell book from the floor. He placed both items on his bed, then stacked the other books neatly and set them aside. Climbing onto the bed, he took hold of his wand once more and opened the book.
As the night wore on, Hadrian immersed himself in the pages, absorbing the information as if it were life-giving water. He practiced each spell described in the book, waving his wand more than twenty times, if he was keeping count.
In those few hours, Hadrian learned six spells: Alohomora, Accio, Lumos, Nox, Wingardium Leviosa, and Expelliarmus. Afterward, he forced himself to take a break and began exploring the other books he had.
He found himself particularly drawn to the subjects involving hands-on practice—spells, potions, and transfiguration. He devoted most of his time to these practical subjects, rather than those requiring more theoretical reading.
Eventually, Hadrian returned to the spell book, determined to practice the six spells he had learned to perfection.
Over the past few days, Hadrian had spent his time cooped up in his room, absorbing as much knowledge as he could. Eventually, he decided it was time to step out and return to Diagon Alley in search of more things to explore.
Hadrian visited almost every shop that piqued his interest, including some he had previously visited with Hagrid. He stopped by Quality Quidditch Supplies, Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, Eeylops Owl Emporium (where he purchased some treats for his new owl, Hedwig), and Madam Malkin's Robes.
In Quality Quidditch Supplies, Hadrian overheard a few conversations and quickly gathered that Quidditch was a sport involving flying on brooms, which explained the numerous "fast-flying" brooms displayed in the store. Intrigued, he was disappointed to learn that first years weren’t allowed to play. Feeling deflated, he wandered a few shops down to a store named Twilfitt and Tatting's.
Upon entering, it became clear that this shop was catered to witches and wizards with vaults brimming with galleons. Hadrian pressed himself against the wall, trying not to stare at the many impeccably dressed patrons. Their hair was flawlessly styled, a stark contrast to Hadrian's own untamed tuft, and their sumptuous, elegant attire clearly bespoke high fashion.
Despite Hadrian feeling rather intimidated by them, he found himself wanting to be like them. Either that, or he envied them. Eventually he settled for them both being the reasons.
The brunet was genuinely fed up with being stuck in hand-me-down clothes that were far too large for him. So, he made it his own mission to find at least some affordable clothes within the store to purchase. Eventually, he did, but not without having to try them on to find his perfect size since he never really knew due to the hand-me-downs he always received.
As Hadrian tried each outfit on, he quickly garnered the attention of an old witch named Isolde Greaves, who worked around the shoppe. She eagerly offered her help to him, which Hadrian hesitantly accepted.
To be frank, Hadrian didn't regret accepting the help. The old woman easily navigated around the shoppe and seemed to precisely know what would look 'dashing' on him- as how she would put it. She had already made him try on about five outfits in total.
"Mr. Potter, dearest, you must try this one," Miss Greaves suggested, gliding around the corner with another outfit. Hadrian obliged, dressing in the outfit while also shoving on the shoes that Miss Greaves had slid over towards him as well. When he turned and looked into the floating mirror, his mouth slid open in a silent gasp.
The robes were of a deep, rich emerald green velvet, which echoed the color of his eyes and contrasted beautifully with his pale complexion. The fabric had a subtle sheen, giving it a luxurious, otherworldly glow. The robes were well-tailored but not overly elaborate, ensuring he looked polished without appearing ostentatious. The edges were adorned with subtle silver embroidery in delicate patterns, adding a touch of elegance without overwhelming his youthful appearance.
Underneath the robes were a crisp white dress shirt made from soft, high-quality cotton. The shirt's collar was neat and was fastened with a small, tasteful silver brooch. Over the shirt, he dons a simple, yet well-fitted, dark gray vest that adds a layer of refinement.
He wears neatly pressed dark gray trousers that match the vest. They are comfortably fitted, allowing ease of movement while maintaining a smart appearance. The trousers end just above his polished black shoes, which are both practical and stylish. They were classic black leather, polished to a gentle shine. They have a modest heel and are sturdy enough for both formal occasions and everyday wear.
Looking into the mirror, Hadrian would not think he was the same person from before. He looked just like the other wizards and witches within the shoppe, put-together and looking quite high-end. Save for his hair which still adorned its messy, bed-head look.
Well, Miss Greaves had been playing with it while he was posing in the clothes in front of the mirror. Now, instead of it looking like a complete birds nest, Hadrian's tousled tuft of dark brown hair looked rather charming, in a way.
He had soft waves that fell effortlessly across his forehead with a natural fluffy volume that framed his face. In other words, his hair had an unruly elegance.
"My, my, my," a voice sounded from behind him.
Hadrian's eyes strayed from his own in the mirror to meet the steely grays of the man standing behind him.
The man had a tall, slender build, clearly carrying himself with an air of superiority and cold grace. He had long, platinum blond hair, which looked impeccably groomed. He was also dressed in high-quality wizarding robes, the main color being black.
The new on-looker watched Hadrian in the mirror, his eyes calculating and observing.
"I must say, the robes on you look exquisite," the blond said, the ends of his mouth curling up in a slight smile.
Hadrian nodded, "Thank you, sir."
The man dipped his head ever so slightly, like a small bow, before silently moving about and rejoining a woman at the front desk of the shoppe. Hadrian watched through the mirror, observing as the two spoke to each other before paying and bidding goodbye to the shoppe keeper. He was ripped from his gaze when Miss Greaves nearly squealed.
"Oh, don't you look just dashing, Mr. Potter!" Miss Greaves exclaimed. "You look like a cute little prince."
"Oh, er, thank you, Miss Greaves." Hadrian pursed his lips as he allowed to rake his eyes over the clothes once more. "If I may, I'd love to purchase these. The, er.. whole outfit?"
"But of course, Mr. Potter! Are you looking to purchase the other pieces of clothing you tried on as well?"
Hadrian looked down at his sack of galleons resting near a plush armchair behind the mirror. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he thought thoroughly.
"How much would the cost be?"
Miss Greaves replied quickly, "six hundred galleons, dear."
Hadrian sighed in relief. Oh, he had more than enough.
"Alright, then." The brunet hopped down from the stool. "I'll take all the outfits. I'll keep wearing this one, though."
"Brilliant!" Miss Greaves clapped her hands before she weaved her way through the shoppers, beckoning Hadrian to follow. "You'll be the best-dressed boy to ever walk Diagon, Mr. Potter!"
Hadrian laughed, "Thank you." He watched as Miss Greaves re-checked the price through her tiny spectacles that were sliding off the bridge of her nose.
"Alrighty, the total is six hundred galleons."
Nodding, Hadrian bent down to fetch his galleons before he realized he had left it over by the chair. Tsking, he whipped out his wand, casting an accio. The sack was then thrust into his hand before he placed it gently onto the desk. Miss Greaves watched him with an amused smile before taking the sack and unraveling the top.
While Miss Greaves sorted through the galleons, getting what was required, Hadrian's eyes wandered down at the accessories displayed just beside the desk. Tilting his head, he grabbed what caught his eye and placed it in front of the woman.
"What's this?"
Miss Greaves glanced up. "A leather-bound wand holster, dear. Would you like to add that to your purchases? It'd set you back just ten galleons."
Hadrian met her striking blue eyes before glaring at his sack of galleons as he figured out a decision. He ended up shrugging, "Sure."
The old woman grinned, "Brilliant."
A few weeks later, it became the time to make his way over to Kings Cross Station. He was given instructions by Hagrid on how to get onto the platform and he followed it easily despite the man's horrid scrawl that was nearly indecipherable.
Once he got on the train after shoving his belongings into the lower section of one of the cars, he quickly found an empty compartment just for him. He sighed contently as he made home in the small space before turning to gaze out the window. He silently prayed that no one else would decide to sit with him.
Honestly, Hadrian was nervous for Hogwarts. Nervous because for one, while he was in Diagon Alley, it was abundantly clear that almost everyone there knew of every little detail about the wizarding world while he knew absolutely nothing.
Like, what do people mean when they say 'send me an owl'? Or like, what the bloody hell were floo powder and portkeys? Apparition, he had quickly learned and perfected on his own time, but the others? Hadrian was absolutely clueless, to say the least.
Secondly, the numerous customs that came with pure-blood politics was every bit daunting. The fact that he was a pure-blood as well made it even worse because he wasn't even sure if he was expected to follow along with the customs.
It was all too overwhelming for him with the talk of legacies, ancient heritages, political influences, inheritances, and wealth. Hell, he barely even knew of his own heritage or whether his parents had any political influence whatsoever. But to sum it all up, as mentioned before, Hadrian was completely, utterly, and absolutely clueless.
The only bright side to it all was the fact that Hadrian now at least looked the part: pure-blood wizard and all. He was glad he had gotten the new clothes at Twilfitt and Tatting's and didn't have to remain in his 'muggle' clothes. If he did, he swore he would get bullied by other kids or at least get looked down on distastefully.
Ultimately, in simpler terms, Hadrian was like a square peg in a round hole. He looked the part, but he didn't quite feel the part.
With being trapped within his own mind and beating himself over the fact that he didn't feel like he belonged, Hadrian failed to notice that the train departed from the station and began chugging down the tracks. And thankfully, he noticed he remained with just himself in the tiny compartment.
Sighing and rolling his shoulders, a nervous tick he picked up, he pulled out one of the many books he had purchased in mid August when he was bored: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2.
In there, he easily learned about the spells Rictusempra, Reparo, Locomotor and Incendio. He first tried each spell in his room at the inn and performed them with ease. He also learned Episkey, Confundo, Reducto and Diffindo in one of the other books he purchased: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3.
Look, he had a lot of time on his hand while stuck at the Leaky Cauldron for a little over a month. Hadrian had thought that a little light reading and self-teaching never hurt anyone. So, he did what he did with what money could buy and bought up to spell book, grade 5. He hadn't gotten to reading it yet or the one for grade 4, so they were stuffed down with his other belongings below the compartment. He'll get to those very soon, though. He was positive.
As the train chugged on, Hadrian switched every now and then to watching the scenery pass outside and focusing on practicing his spells from the grade 3 book. At some point, a girl barged in and asked him about finding a toad. Hadrian, who absolutely could not find the room to care, turned her away without even looking up from the book.
Eventually, someone else arrived at his compartment. Instead of barging in, they knocked. It was a boy who appeared to be in his seventh year, and he asked Hadrian to change into his plain black robes as they were almost at the school. Hadrian obliged, but he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that he had to change out of his new clothes. He had worn his emerald outfit and was quite proud of it.
The train whistled as it came to a complete stop at their destination. Children of all ages clamored out of every compartment, either looking like they just got up from a nap, having the chat of their life, or just positively bored. Hadrian was neither, as he had been quite entertained with his book of spells, practicing casting them.
Each student grouped up in fours as they got off the train before hopping onto boats to cross 'The Black Lake'. Hadrian had read somewhere that there was a giant squid lurking within the waters as well as merpeople. It made him quite nervous to cross it, but he forced himself to overcome it quickly as they pushed off from the dock of the train station.
It took nearly fifteen minutes to fully cross it. Apparently it would've taken only ten minutes if it wasn't for the group of students who fell in due to rocking the boat too much. Hagrid, who had met all of them at the station to escort them, basically had to fish the four out of the water. Hadrian couldn't help but roll his eyes in annoyance. And of course one of the people who fell in was Neville Longbottom.
What did Hadrian say before? Oh, right. Neville Longbottom, the trouble magnet.
When everyone had safely made it inside the school, they paused in front of a woman in green robes who stood before two giant doors. From behind the doors, Hadrian could hear numerous voices, sounding as if there were over fourty dozen people inside. Hadrian wouldn’t be surprised if there were; it was a giant school.
“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few moments. I will ask you to stand in a line, and you will be sorted into your respective houses. Please remember that this is an important event and to behave respectfully. When I call your name, you will step forward and place the Sorting Hat on your head. It will then determine your house. Good luck to all of you.” The woman then turned, slipping through the doors and leaving the first years alone. Hadrian gulped, houses?
Now that Hadrian thought about it, he remembered hearing a few students discussing certain houses at Hogwarts, such as Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. He didn’t hear anything beyond that, except that students were sorted into one of these houses. He wasn’t entirely sure if there were more houses, but he did know that the sorting was based on one’s traits. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious as to where he'd be put.
Eventually, the doors to the room opened slowly, revealing a grand hall lined with four long tables positioned vertically from the door. Students filled all the tables, while at the very front, there was a slightly elevated stone table placed horizontally to the door where adults sat, smiling. An old man seated in the middle of the table caught Hadrian's attention—he instinctively knew, in a way, that this was Dumbledore.
The group of first years traveled down the middle of the tables, all giddy and excited as they looked around at the other students. Hadrian, on the other hand, had his eyes glued up towards the ceiling that looked like the night sky.
"The ceiling's enchanted to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts, A History. It's really impressive, isn't it?" The girl from earlier, who had asked about the toad, inquired.
Hadrian, nodded, not saying anything further. The girl didn't seem to mind though as she continued to marvel it in silence as well.
The group stopped once they reached the front of the Great Hall. In front of them stood the woman from before. She stood beside a stool with a silly looking hat on it. Then, out of no where, the hall quieted down and the hat started singing. Hadrian was a bit shocked and found it sort of off-putting.
After the hat's little song that had the entire hall clapping furiously, the woman pulled out a piece of parchment and began listing names off one by one. As each name was called, a student stepped up to the stool and placed the hat atop their head. Once placed, it would mumble a few things before spewing out a house name. The first two called up were Hufflepuffs and the third was a Slytherin. It went on like that for a short amount of time until it got to Longbottom, where the shout of his name had the hall go eerily quiet.
As Longbottom stepped up to the stool he nearly tripped over his own two feet. That elicited a few gasps and snickers from the crowd, but not from Hadrian as he simply rolled his eyes and sighed at his antics yet again.
Once the hat was placed on top of the boy's head, the hat began its mumbling. It seemed as if everyone in the hall leaned forward to see what house he'd be sorted into. Luckily, it didn't take long to see as the hat called out, "Gryffindor!".
The said table of the house sprouted up in shouts and hollers, pumping their fists in the air. Hadrian only raised a nonplussed brow as he watched the Longbottom boy stumble his way towards his new, rowdy home.
That’s very fitting, if you ask me, Hadrian mused.
After that a few more people were called up to the stool. Two were Slytherin, one Ravenclaw, one Hufflepuff and one Gryffindor. The next student who was called up was-
"Potter, Hadrian."
Oh. It was him.
Straightening his posture to make himself look a bit more presentable, Hadrian stepped up, weaving through the students who had yet to be called. He sat on the stool, his eyes glancing around the hall and meeting a few unfamiliar gazes before everything disappeared and was replaced by darkness.
As the Sorting Hat was placed on Hadrian's head, a voice echoed in his mind.
"Hmm," the Hat mused, "interesting, very interesting. I see a great deal of ambition in you, a burning desire to prove yourself and achieve greatness. That’s a fine quality, well-suited for Slytherin."
Hadrian held his breath as the Hat continued, "And yet, there’s more. Cunningness, yes, a sharp mind that can navigate even the trickiest of situations. You’re resilient, too, able to withstand hardships and bounce back stronger. All of these traits would make you a remarkable Slytherin."
The Hat paused, considering further. "But I see bravery as well. The kind of courage that would make you a worthy Gryffindor. And loyalty, such fierce loyalty to those you care about—another Gryffindor quality."
Hadrian felt his heart race as the Hat weighed its decision. "You have a thirst for knowledge, a desire to understand the world and its mysteries. Ravenclaw would suit you well, with your love of learning and intellect."
The Hat went silent for a moment before speaking again, more resolutely this time. "But where will you thrive the most? Where will your unique blend of traits find the best expression? Ambition, cunning, resilience, and a thirst for knowledge... Yes, I see it now. There is only one place for you."
With a bated breath, Hadrian waited.
"Slytherin!"
The Hat’s declaration echoed through Hadrian's mind, sealing his fate.
The darkness that crowded Hadrian's vision soon fell away to reveal a hall filled with applause. Pursing his lips, he slid off the stool and began to make his way over to the said Slytherin table, seating himself on the end. He met a few gazes belonging to his fellow first years before he dragged his eyes back towards the front where students still waited to be called.
It didn't take long for the sorting ceremony to end and for the headmaster to commence the opening feast. Once the man clapped his hands, loads of food appeared miraculously in front of them.
It was almost too much food for Hadrian to handle with his small appetite after living with only scraps and porridge from the Dursley's. So the brunet only resorted to small servings, helping himself to peas, bread rolls and a bit of Yorkshire pudding. When deserts started appearing, he tried his first ever treacle tart- it quickly became his favorite.
Feeling full despite having eaten very little, Hadrian sat silently at the end of the table, deciding to eavesdrop on the conversations around him. He considered trying to find a common topic to discuss with his new house-mates, hoping to make at least a few friends eventually.
“Did you hear? The Abernathy's are hosting their annual gala again. Only the most esteemed families get an invite,” drawled a tall, aristocratic boy as he picked at a slice of lamb chop.
A girl with sleek, short, dark hair nodded. “My parents were discussing it just the other day. It’s all about maintaining connections with the right sort. Father said it’s crucial for our family’s standing in the Ministry.”
“Yes, my parents always remind me how important it is to associate with the proper families,” added a blond boy. “Blood status and heritage are everything in our world, I suppose."
Hadrian’s stomach twisted as he glanced around nervously, realizing that almost everyone seemed to be pure-bloods from distinguished lineages. The names they mentioned were unfamiliar to him, and their world of high society and pure-blood politics felt completely alien. Being sorted into a house that centered on such matters was exactly what Hadrian had hoped to avoid.
“Did you see that Muggle-born who got sorted into Ravenclaw?” someone sneered. “Disgraceful. I can’t imagine having to share a house with someone like that.”
Hadrian’s heart pounded. The disdain in their voices was palpable. He felt a wave of panic, worried they might discover his upbringing with the Dursleys. What if they made fun of him for not knowing about the magical world? Worse, what if they found out he’d grown up with Muggles? The thought of being ridiculed, or worse, tarnishing his parents’ name in the eyes of these wizarding aristocrats, made him feel sick.
He lowered his head, determined to stay quiet. Making friends with these people seemed impossible now. The fear of being exposed as different, as lesser in their eyes, was too overwhelming. He decided then and there to keep to himself, avoiding any risk of ruining his parents’ legacy or becoming the target of their scorn.
As mentioned, he was like a square peg in a round hole.
As soon as dinner concluded, the Slytherin students were directed to their respective common rooms by the Slytherin prefect, Gemma Farley. She demonstrated how to access their common room, which was concealed behind a wall of stone bricks in the dungeons. To gain entry, they had to utter a specific password: "Sangue Nobile," which meant "noble blood" in Italian.
Upon entering the common room, they were greeted by a looming figure in black robes with a stern expression. The man instructed the older students to proceed to their own dormitories, while he firmly told the first years to remain where they were. Terrified of displeasing him, they complied without question.
Before darkness could completely envelop his mind, Hadrian made a mental note to do whatever he could to also avoid the oaf that the world called the Boy-Who-Lived, seeing that he was already causing issues and the year had barely even started.
That shouldn't be hard, Hadrian figured.
Unfortunately, he had no idea just how much more difficult it was going to be than he had anticipated.