Chapter 10
Nodding, Hadrian allowed the group to lead him to the library. The hallowed halls of Hogwarts stretched before them, their footsteps echoing off the ancient stone as they made their way through the labyrinth of corridors. The library was a sanctuary of knowledge, the towering bookshelves whispering secrets that had been held within their pages for centuries. The warm glow of the flickering candles cast a soft light over the polished wood tables, creating a serene atmosphere that was the perfect balm for their frazzled nerves.
The Slytherins claimed a table at the back, far from the prying eyes of the Gryffindors and the disapproving glares of the librarian, Madam Pince. They spread their parchments and books across the surface, the scent of ink and aged parchment mingling with the faint aroma of the potions that lingered on their robes.
Hadrian's eyes remained glued to the parchment, and his quill moved in quick, precise strokes. He was well aware of the eyes that flicked in their direction, the whispers that grew quieter as they approached, and the sudden stillness that fell as they passed by.
Draco leaned back in his chair, watching Hadrian's work with a mocking smile. “They're talking about you all over the school,” he said, and the satisfaction of a job well done could be heard in his voice. “Everyone is thinking about you.
Hadrian did not lift his gaze from above the parchment. “Let them wonder,” he muttered, focusing his gaze on the swirling ink. The whispers and surreptitious glances didn't bother him. In fact, knowing that his power was not going unnoticed brought him a strange relief.
The hours in the library passed quickly, the students' whispers and the rustle of turning pages the only sounds that filled the vast room. As the clock chimed, signaling the end of their study time, Hadrian rolled up his parchment and tucked it into his bag. The group dispersed, heading to the great hall for evening meal.
As they entered the hall, the buzz of conversation grew louder, the air charged with excitement. The Gryffindors were huddled together, their eyes flickering to Hadrian and the Slytherins as they approached. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat at their usual table, their expressions a mix of curiosity and wariness.
Daphne took a seat next to Hadrian, her eyes never leaving his. "You're going to have to explain," she said, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "How did you do that without a wand?"
Ignoring her question, Hadrian reached for the silver toast rack, his long fingers curling around the crusty bread. He spread a thin layer of butter across it, the soft golden pat giving way to the warmth of the toast beneath. A dollop of jam followed, the sweetness a stark contrast to the bitter taste of the whispers that surrounded them. He took a bite, his eyes focused on the far wall, as if the ancient tapestry held the answers she sought. Only when he had finished did he turn to her, his expression unreadable. "Family secret," he said, his smile as enigmatic as the twirl of cream in his pumpkin juice. "Maybe you'll find out in the future."
The words hung in the air between them, a silent challenge that echoed through the grand hall. Daphne's eyes searched his, looking for a clue, a glimpse into the mystery that was Hadrian Black. But all she found was a wall of polite indifference, a mask that she knew he had perfected over the years.
Her curiosity piqued, she leaned in closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "You can't just leave us hanging like that," she chided playfully.
Hadrian took a sip of his pumpkin juice, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. "Ah, but I can," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But fear not, Daphne. In due time, all will be revealed." He took a bite of his toast, the butter and jam melding into a sweet, comforting flavor that seemed to mirror the warmth of their growing friendship.
A voice boomed through the hall, cutting through the murmur like a knife through hot butter. "What are you two lovebirds whispering about?" Draco Malfoy sailed over, his blond hair gleaming under the enchanted lights like a crown of spun gold. A smug smile played on his lips as he took his seat at the Slytherin table, eyeing them both with a knowing glint in his gaze.
Daphne's cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, the color of a setting sun, and she quickly busied herself with the silver platter of roast beef, her movements a little too sharp, a little too hasty. "Just... future plans," she mumbled, her eyes darting to her plate.
"Ah, future plans," Draco echoed, his voice thick with sarcasm. "How delightfully cryptic." He turned to Hadrian, his expression a mix of amusement and something else, something deeper that Hadrian couldn't quite place. "I suppose we all have our secrets," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly.
As evening meal wound down and the Slytherins began to drift back towards the dormitory, Hadrian's eyes caught sight of the Grey Lady. She hovered by the archway that led to the ghost-filled corridor, her ethereal form casting a pallor over the warm stone. Her gaze was fixed on him, a look of such intensity that he felt it like a physical touch.
With a murmured excuse to he goes after her, his heart racing. The Grey Lady had never approached him directly before, and something about the way she watched him sent a shiver down his spine. He didn't dare look back at his friends, fearing that if he broke eye contact, she would vanish as quickly as she had appeared.
The hallways grew quieter as the students made their way to their dorms, the only sound the distant echo of their footsteps. Hadrian quickened his pace, his robes billowing out behind him like the sails of a ship catching the wind. The Grey Lady remained a constant presence, her ghostly form weaving in and out of the shadows as if beckoning him to follow.
"Where are you going?" Draco called out, his voice echoing through the emptiness. But Hadrian didn't stop, didn't look back. The pull of the Grey Lady's gaze was too strong.
He followed her through the winding corridors of Hogwarts, the ancient stones whispering secrets that only the ghosts could hear. His heart hammered in his chest, the excitement of the unknown propelling him forward. The Grey Lady's silvery form glided effortlessly through the air, leading him deeper into the school's bowels, where the air grew colder and the candles flickered with an eerie light.
When they reached a secluded corner, she finally stopped. Her gaze was piercing, as if she could see right through him. "You have the eyes of your mother," she murmured, her voice like the rustle of leaves in a graveyard. "And the power of your father."
Hadrian stopped immediately. No one had ever mentioned his Mother as if she was cursed, no picture, nothing, as if she had never existed, so when he spoke his voice was slightly hoarse and quiet “My..mother.”
The Grey Lady's gaze softened, and for a brief moment, she almost looked human. "Yes, your mother," she said, her voice filled with a gentle melancholy. "Leticia Gaunt...she was a kind soul. Much like you, Hadrian. You carry the burden of your lineage, but you also carry the potential for great good."
Hadrian felt his throat tighten, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. The mention of his mother was like a key turning in a long-locked door, opening a chamber of memories and emotions he hadn't allowed himself to access.
The Grey Lady continued, "Your mother was a brilliant witch, Hadrian. Her lineage was pure, her heart was good. But she was caught in the crossfire of a world that didn't understand her." Her gaze grew distant, as if looking back through time. "The same world that has now claimed you as its own. You are a beacon in the darkness, a light that could lead others to either salvation or ruin."
The silence between them was as thick as the dust that coated the forgotten tomes in the library. Hadrian felt the weight of her words, each one a brick in the wall that separated him from the path he had always known. "What do you mean?" he managed to ask, his voice a mere whisper in the vastness of the corridor.
The Grey Lady's eyes snapped back to him, the sadness in them deepening. "Tom Riddle" she said, the name hanging in the air like a dark cloud. "He was once a student here, much like you. He too had the gift of wandless magic, and he too came from a line of great power and darkness. But he allowed that darkness to consume him. He was charming, just like you. He had the ability to make anyone believe in his cause."
Suddenly, the clatter of footsteps against the stairs could be heard behind them, and Headmaster Dumbledore appeared, his robes billowing as he rushed towards them, his expression one of concern and curiosity. The Grey Lady vanished, leaving Hadrian alone with the weight of her words.
"Mr,Black" Dumbledore said, his eyes warm and wise, "What brings you to this part of the castle so late?"
Hadrian felt a flicker of annoyance at the interruption, but he schooled his features into a calm mask, turning to face the headmaster. "I was just exploring," he said, his voice steady. "The castle has so many secrets, I find myself drawn to its less-frequented corners."
Dumbledore's gaze was sharp, his eyes piercing through the half-truth. "Indeed," he murmured, his long beard swaying with his nod. "But I suspect there's more to this encounter than mere curiosity." He looked around the empty corridor, his eyes lingering on the spot where the Grey Lady had been. "You've met one of our more... elusive residents."
The headmaster's presence was both comforting and disconcerting. His aura of power was palpable, yet there was something gentle about him that made Hadrian want to confide in him. But he remained tight-lipped, the secrets of his lineage and the Grey Lady's warning a burden he wasn't ready to share. "It's nothing," he said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Just one of the school's many mysteries."
Dumbledore's gaze softened. "Would you care to walk with me, Mr. Black?" he asked, his voice filled with the warmth of a crackling fireplace. "Curfew is fast approaching, and I'd hate for you to get lost in these corridors."
Hadrian nodded, his thoughts still swirling from his encounter with the Grey Lady. The two of them walked side by side, their footsteps echoing through the empty hallways. The headmaster's presence was comforting, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being studied, measured.
After a few moments of silence, Dumbledore spoke up, his voice as smooth as the velvet of his hat. "I heard about today's situation in Charms class, with the Ravenclaw student," he said, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.
Hadrian stiffened, his hand tightening around the strap of his bag. "The Charm's class?" he repeated, feigning ignorance.
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said with a knowing smile. "Your little... demonstration. Quite the talk of the school, I'm afraid."
Hadrian's heart skipped a beat. He had hoped the incident would have blown over by now, but apparently, it had only served to make him more of a topic of discussion. "It was an accident," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "I didn't mean to—"
Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him. "I know, Hadrian," he said gently. "Professor Flitwick has informed me of the situation. However, I must admit, I am quite intrigued by your unique ability." His gaze searched Hadrian's face, looking for something unspoken.
The silence that followed was as thick as the tapestries that lined the corridors of Hogwarts, each thread of silence weaving a tapestry of its own. Hadrian felt his heart pounding in his chest, the echoes of his footsteps in the empty corridor a stark reminder of his solitude.
After a few moments that stretched on longer than a dragon's lifespan, Dumbledore spoke again. His words were measured, each one carefully chosen. "I've known many members of your family, Hadrian," he said, his eyes reflecting the warm glow of the candlelight. "The Blacks have always been a curious blend of brilliance and... volatility. It's a trait that can be both your greatest strength and your most dangerous weakness."
The silence grew heavier, each second weighing on Hadrian like a ton of bricks. Dumbledore's eyes searched his, looking for something, some spark of understanding or acknowledgment. "We all have our demons, Mr. Black," the headmaster continued, his voice a gentle rumble. "But it is how we choose to face them that defines us."
They reached the Slytherin common room, the entrance guarded by the ever-watchful stone snake. Dumbledore paused, his hand hovering over the knob. "Remember, the choices we make today shape our tomorrow." His gaze lingered on Hadrian, a silent challenge that seemed to penetrate the very marrow of his bones.
With a final nod, Hadrian stepped into the dimly lit chamber, the heavy silence of the corridor replaced by the low murmur of his housemates' conversations. The green and silver serpents that adorned the walls slithered and whispered, as if echoing the weight of the headmaster's words.
Draco looked up from his spot by the fireplace, his gaze sharp and assessing. "Everything all right?" he asked, his voice carrying just enough concern to be genuine.
Hadrian nodded, feeling the weight of Dumbledore's words like a heavy cloak. "Just a run-in with a ghost," he said with a forced smile, trying to shrug off the encounter.
But as he climbed the stairs to the dormitory, the Grey Lady's words lingered in his mind like a haunting melody. He felt the eyes of his peers on him, the whispers following him like a shadow. In the quiet of his room, he found refuge, his thoughts racing like a Quidditch match gone awry.
He gathered his things with a sense of urgency, the cold marble of the washbasin a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand as he splashed water on his face. The reflection that stared back at him was as enigmatic as the lineage he now knew to claim. The weight of his heritage was like an invisible yolk, one that he wasn't sure he wanted to bear.
After toweling off, he donned the silk robe that Narcissa had given him, the soft fabric a whisper against his skin. The emblem of the Black family crest stared back at him from the fabric, a stark reminder of the legacy that lay before him.
With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his newfound knowledge, Hadrian sat down at his desk, the quill hovering over the parchment like a hawk over its prey. He dipped the quill in ink and began to write, his thoughts flowing onto the page in a stream of midnight blue.
The words came easily to him, as if they had been waiting, trapped, yearning to be released from the cage of his mind. He wrote of the Grey Lady's visitation, her haunting words about his mother, and the sudden revelation that his life was entwined with a legacy that was more complex than the most intricate of spells.
As the ink dried, Hadrian folded the letter with trembling hands, the soft rustle echoing in the quiet room. He sealed it with a wax stamp of the Black family crest, feeling the weight of his decision to share this burgeoning truth with the woman who had raised him. Aunt Narcissa had always been there, a bastion of cold strength in a world that often made no sense to him. Would she understand the turmoil he felt now? Would she see him differently, knowing the secret that had been kept from him for so long?
The letter sat on his desk, a silent sentinel of his tumultuous emotions. He knew he couldn't hold onto this knowledge alone, not when it had the power to either unite or destroy. He needed guidance, and if the Grey Lady's words were any indication, he had precious little time to act.
With a deep breath, Hadrian rose from his chair and made his way down to the dormitory door. The common room was still alive with whispers and laughter, but he moved through it like a ghost, unnoticed and unseen. His thoughts were too heavy, too consuming, to be bogged down by the mundane concerns of school life.