chapter 7
The chatter grew as they left the classroom, the Gryffindors huddling together, their voices a cacophony of whispers and speculation. Hadrian could feel the weight of their curiosity, their eyes burning into his back as he walked away. They talked of his magic, the ease with which he had performed the transfigurations without a wand. It was a secret that set him apart, a gift that could either be his salvation or his downfall
Draco slung an arm around his shoulder, a smug smile playing on his lips. "So, cousin," he drawled, his voice dripping with false camaraderie, "do you find it entertaining to play teacher's pet with the mudbloods?"
Hadrian's eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tensing. "It's called being a good student, Draco," he replied, his voice cold and even. "And it's a role I play to maintain the good status of Black House. You'd do well to remember that."
Draco's smile faltered, and he took a step back, his hand dropping from Hadrian's shoulder. "Of course, I just didn't want them to think you've gone soft, that's all."
Entering the classroom, the divide between the houses was stark. The Slytherins sat on one side, their robes a sea of green and silver, whispering to each other with the cunning grace of snakes. The Ravenclaws, with their blue and bronze attire, perched on the opposite side, their eyes gleaming with the sharp intellect that defined their house. Hadrian felt a strange kinship with them, a bond that went beyond the prejudices he had been raised with. He knew that in this place, knowledge was power, and the thirst for it was something they all shared.
Professor Flitwick, a tiny man with a grand presence, joyfully floated into the room, his hat brimming with excitement. His eyes scanned the sea of eager faces, his wand twirling in his hand. As he called out the names for the charms class, the students responded with varying levels of enthusiasm. When he reached "Hadrian Black" his expression softened, and he said, "Ah, I see we have a young member of the Black family with us today. Your father, Regulus, was a great student in charms, Mr.Black. I expect nothing less from his heir."
The classroom buzzed with whispers at the mention of Hadrian's father. Regulus Black had been a name synonymous with rebellion and courage, a stark contrast to the typical Slytherin lineage. The weight of the expectations grew heavier on Hadrian's shoulders, but he remained composed, a cool smile playing on his lips.
Professor Flitwick began his lecture, his words painting a picture of the enchanting world of charms. Hadrian found himself drawn to the whimsical nature of the subject, the way a simple incantation could bring joy or aid to those who wielded it. The other students listened attentively, eager to impress their new professor.
As the lesson progressed, Professor Flitwick called for a demonstration of the levitation charm. Wands flicked and incantations were whispered, feathers floating gently in the air. Hadrian felt the power within him, the innate ability to manipulate the very fabric of the world around him.
With a deep breath, he decided to use his wand, if only to blend in. Drawing it out, he felt the familiar warmth in his hand, a stark contrast to the cold steel he was used to. He focused his thoughts, the words of the charm slipping from his tongue.
"Wingardium Leviosa," he murmured, his eyes never leaving the trembling quill. The feather jerked upwards, then stalled, wobbling precariously. A smattering of laughter rippled through the room The first student to laugh was a Ravenclaw, her eyes glinting with amusement. Without a moment's hesitation,showing the Black family's famous low temperament Hadrian's wandless magic reached out to her, his anger a living force that coiled around her like a serpent. Her eyes grew wide as she levitated off the ground, her chair toppling over with a clatter that silenced the room.
Her body hovered in the air, her face a mask of shock, as the students gaped in astonishment. The levitation charm was one that typically took years to master, and here he was, performing it without a wand, without so much as a flick of his wrist. The whispers grew to gasps, and even Draco's ould feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck.
smug expression faltered.
"Mr. Black!" Professor Flitwick's shrill voice sliced through the silence like a knife. His usually cheerful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a stern expression that brooked no argument. "That is quite enough!" He waved his wand, and the Ravenclaw girl descended gently to the floor, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
Hadrian offered the girl a fake smile, his voice dripping with condescension. "My apologies, it won't happen again." But his eyes remained cold, a hint of the anger still simmering within them. He knew that his actions had not gone unnoticed, that the students were watching him, their whispers carrying tales of his power and unpredictability. It was a reputation he would need to cultivate, a shield to protect him from those who would seek to use him for their own ends.
Professor Flitwick, ever the diplomat, moved quickly to restore order. His cheerful persona returned as he began helping the rest of the class, his eyes darting to Hadrian every now and then, a silent warning not to disrupt the lesson further. The Slytherins took this as an opportunity to gather around their new classmate, eager to learn from his unique talents.
Hadrian, unfazed by the earlier incident, focused on his wandwork, his movements precise and deliberate. Each time he murmured the incantation, his quill obeyed, soaring through the air in perfect loops and swirls. The rest of the class watched him with a mix of awe and fear, their own attempts at the charm growing bolder in the face of his unbridled power.
Professor Flitwick, his initial shock replaced by a gleam of interest, subtly steered the lesson to allow for Hadrian's continued demonstration. He floated from student to student, offering gentle corrections and encouragement, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the young Black. It was clear that he recognized the potential in Hadrian, a potential that could either elevate or threaten the delicate balance of Hogwarts' magical society.
The Slytherins, buzzing with excitement over their newfound prowess, began to gather around Hadrian, eager to learn from him. He moved among them, his tall frame a commanding presence as he offered advice and adjusted their wand movements. His voice was low and measured, his words carrying an authority that belied his age. They watched him with a mix of admiration and wariness, sensing the depth of his power.
n the corner of the room, a few Ravenclaws had also managed to perform the charm correctly, their feathers floating with the grace of a swan's neck. Professor Flitwick beamed at them, his pride evident in the way his eyes crinkled. "Very good, Miss Edgecombe, Mr. Runcorn," he said, awarding their house ten points each. The rest of the class watched as the points tallied, their own successes and failures forgotten in the face of Hadrian's unorthodox methods.
As the lesson drew to a close, Professor Flitwick's gaze fell upon Hadrian once more. "Mr. Black," he said, his tone measured, "I am impressed with your initiative. However, it is important to remember that we are all here to learn and grow together. Your talents are to be shared, not used to intimidate."
Hadrian nodded, his eyes flickering to the Ravenclaw girl he had levitated. She met his gaze, her expression a mix of fear and defiance. He offered her a small smile, one that did not quite reach his eyes. "Of course, Professor," he said, his voice smooth as velvet. "I am always eager to assist my fellow students."
The class ended with the Slytherins and Ravenclaws collectively earning twenty-five points for their houses, a rare display of unity between the rival factions. The students filed out of the classroom, their whispers growing louder with each step. Hadrian felt the weight of their gazes upon him, the curiosity and fear melding into a potent cocktail that fueled his growing legend.