Chapter 8
As he and Draco made their way to the Great Hall for lunch, the corridor grew narrower, the shadows playing tricks on their eyes. Suddenly, they were blocked by a tall, lanky figure dressed in Ravenclaw blues. The elder Ravenclaw student's eyes bore into Hadrian's, his expression a blend of curiosity and accusation. "What's your game, Black?" he spat, his voice laced with contempt.
Hadrian's smirk grew wider, his gaze never leaving the Ravenclaw's. "My game, Mr. -"
"Chope, Chad Chope" the boy supplied, his eyes flashing with challenge.
Immediately after introducing himself, Hadrian dismissed Chope as unworthy of attention and time and with a cold stare, his footsteps echoing down the hall as he headed for the Great Hall. The other students dispersed like a river around a rock, their whispers a constant backdrop to his lonely journey. His eyes remained focused in front of him, uninterested in the glances cast in his direction, his mind already racing with the complexity of the political chessboard that was Hogwarts.
The furious Ravenclaw shouted after him, his fists clenching by his side as he reached for his wand, a fiery retort on the tip of his tongue. But before he could utter a syllable, the cold, sneering voice of Professor Snape sliced through the corridor like a knife. "Mr. Chope, is there a problem?"
Chope spun on his heel, his wand still drawn. "This... this Black is using dark magic!" His accusation hung in the air, the malice in his voice unmistakable.
Professor Snape's gaze shifted from Chope to Hadrian, and his eyes narrowed. “Really? His voice remained as cold and sharp as a winter gale, the kind that can cut through any lie. But in his head he immediately recognized Regulus' son, he looked just like him when he was his age
Chope's hand hovered over his wand, his knuckles white with rage. "He just used wandless magic in class!" he spat. "It's against the rules!"
Professor Snape's gaze bore into Hadrian, his eyes like two chips of obsidian in the pallor of his face. "Is this true, Mr. Black?"
Hadrian's smile never wavered. "Wandless magic is not explicitly forbidden, Professor," he replied coolly, his voice as smooth as the stone walls of the castle. "It is merely... unconventional."
Snape's eyes narrowed further, his gaze sharp and assessing. He knew the Black family's history, knew the kind of power that ran in their veins. "Unconventional, yes," he agreed, his voice as smooth as a serpent's slither. "But it is also a rare gift. One that must be handled with care." His eyes flickered to Draco, a silent warning to keep his distance from the situation.
Draco, however, remained steadfast beside Hadrian, his own wand at the ready. The bond between the two cousins was palpable, a silent declaration of support in the face of accusation. Despite their family's history, Draco had always seen something in Hadrian that others did not. Perhaps it was the way he was so naturally, or the cold intelligence that lurked beneath his charming exterior. Whatever it was, Draco knew that Hadrian was not one to be trifled with.
"
Chope's eyes darted from Hadrian to Draco and back again, his bravado slipping like a poorly cast spell. Professor Snape's presence was a stark reminder of the consequences of crossing a member of the Black family, especially one as powerful as Hadrian. "I... I just thought it should be reported," he stuttered, his wand arm dropping to his side.
"And it has been," Snape said, his tone final. "Now, unless you have any other matters to bring to my attention, I suggest you proceed to the great hall for dinner, Mr. Chope."
With a huff, Chope stowed his wand and stormed away, his Ravenclaw robes billowing dramatically behind him. Hadrian and Draco exchanged a knowing look before turning to leave as well. The whispers grew louder as they walked, the echoes of their footsteps blending with the murmurs of the curious and the cautious. The great hall loomed ahead, its vastness a stark reminder of the scrutiny they would face.
Upon entering the grand chamber, the eyes of the students swiveled to meet them, the whispers growing into a murmur that rippled through the air like a wave. The Slytherins at their table offered them smirks and nods of approval, while the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs shot them suspicious glances. Hadrian's gaze found Harry, who sat with his usual group, his expression a curious mix of confusion and intrigue.
With a huff, Chope stowed his wand and stormed away, his Ravenclaw robes billowing dramatically behind him. Hadrian and Draco exchanged a knowing look before turning to leave as well. The whispers grew louder as they walked, the echoes of their footsteps blending with the murmurs of the curious and the cautious. The great hall loomed ahead, its vastness a stark reminder of the scrutiny they would face.
Upon entering the grand chamber, the eyes of the students swiveled to meet them, the whispers growing into a murmur that rippled through the air like a wave. The Slytherins at their table offered them smirks and nods of approval, while the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs shot them suspicious glances. Hadrian's gaze found Harry, who sat with his usual group, his expression a curious mix of confusion and intrigue.
From the high table, Dumbledore and McGonagall watched the scene unfold with furrowed brows, their whispers carrying a sense of urgency that only those with sharp ears could detect. Professor Flitwick, his hands fidgeting with his tiny lunch, looked particularly concerned as he listened to McGonagall's hushed account of the wandless transfigurations in class. Dumbledore's eyes, a piercing blue that seemed to see through the very soul of every student, remained fixated on Hadrian, a hint of something unreadable flickering in their depths.
"It's not the first time a Black has shown such promise," McGonagall said, her voice low and measured. "But to do so without a wand... It's unheard of."
"Indeed," Dumbledore murmured, his eyes never leaving Hadrian. "He is a curious case, Professor Flitwick. Wandless magic is a rare and powerful gift, but it can also be a double-edged sword."
Flitwick nodded, his tiny hands trembling slightly. "I had hoped it was merely a fluke, a moment of youthful exuberance. But to see it again, and with such control..." His voice trailed off, his concern palpable.
Dumbledore's gaze remained on Hadrian, who was now seated at the Slytherin table, surrounded by his house-mates. "He is indeed a prodigy, much like one boy i knowed" he said, his eyes holding a distant look, as if lost in a memory. "But we must be cautious. Power such as his can be intoxicating, especially to one so young."
In the sea of students, Hadrian remained unfazed by the attention. His eyes focused solely on his plate, piling potatoes smothered in rich mushroom sauce alongside a perfectly cooked steak and a golden Yorkshire pudding. The aroma wafted through the air.
The silence was shattered by the scrape of a chair as Theodore Nott, a fellow Slytherin with a reputation for being as sharp as his surname suggested, took a seat beside him. The room grew quieter, the whispers subsiding into a tense hush.
"Black," Theodore said, extending a hand. "Theodore Nott. I've heard... interesting things about your performance in class today." His voice was a curious mix of respect and challenge, as if sizing him up from the shadows of his hood.
Hadrian took the hand, his grip firm and his smile cold. "Wandless magic can be quite surprising, can't it?" He replied, not bothering to hide the edge in his tone. He knew the Nott family's reputation for dark arts and cunning, and he wasn't about to let anyone underestimate him.
Theodore's eyes gleamed with interest. "Indeed. It's a trait that sets you apart from the rest of us mere mortals," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I'm sure it will serve you well in the house cup, and perhaps... beyond."
Draco leaned in, his tone low and serious. "Careful, Nott. Don't forget who you're dealing with."
Theodore's smile didn't waver. "I wouldn't dream of it, Malfoy." His gaze shifted back to Hadrian. "But I do wonder, Mr. Black, how far you're willing to go to prove yourself to us mere Slytherins."
Narrowing his eyes, Hadrian pulled back his hand, the sleeve of his robe sliding down to reveal the ring of Black Family Heir. The emblem of the Black family gleamed in the candlelight, a silent reminder of his lineage and the power that came with it. "You'd be wise to choose your words carefully, Nott." The threat was subtle, but the meaning was clear. The records Arctus had left behind held secrets that could topple families and reshape the Wizengamot.
Theodore leaned back, his eyes still gleaming with curiosity. "I only seek to understand," he said, his voice a coil of smoke. "Your father was a renowned member of the Death Eaters, yet you seem to have no qualms about helping a Gryffindor and a Muggle-born."
Hadrian's hand clenched around his goblet, his knuckles white. He took a slow sip of his pumpkin juice, savoring the sweetness before speaking. "My father's choices are his own," he said, his voice as cold as the steel of the knives. "I will not be defined by his past, nor will I let it dictate my future."
Nott's smile grew colder, his eyes narrowing. "But your future is tied to our house," he said, his voice a low hiss. "We expect greatness from the heir of the Black family."
With a sip of his pumpkin juice, Hadrian's eyes never leaving Nott's, he replied, "My greatness will be defined by my own choices, not the expectations of others."
Nott nodded, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Understood," he murmured, rising from the bench with the grace of a viper retreating from a threat. His gaze lingered on the Black family heirloom for a moment longer before he turned to leave, his footsteps echoing through the great hall.
Hadrian watched him walk away, his own smile a cool imitation of Nott's smile. His whisper followed the Slytherin as he made his way across the table, and the words were a silent promise that hung in the air like an unspoken curse. “Remember what I said, Nott. You wouldn't want me to visit your family and remind them of Black's true power,” he said. The implication was clear: he knew secrets that could destroy Nott's Family.