Chapter 8
Hadrian stood outside Gringotts, the brisk air swirling around him, but he hardly noticed the chill. Instead, his thoughts raced as he clutched the emerald necklace that hung from his neck, its cool surface grounding him amid the storm of emotions swirling in his mind. He took a deep breath, trying to settle his racing heart. What a revelation, he thought. Not only did he learn that his parents were not who he had been led to believe, but he also now understood the dark machinations of those he had considered friends.
James and Severus. The names echoed in his mind like a broken record, a painful reminder of the betrayal he had felt from those he trusted most. The Weasleys, with their feigned kindness, had deceived him for far too long. He took a moment to adjust to his new reality—his newfound power as an Aetherborn and the weight of his heritage pressing down on him.
As he made his way back to the Burrow, the familiarity of the path did little to ease his apprehension. The cottage loomed ahead, a picturesque facade that belied the rot he had discovered beneath. Steeling himself, he pushed open the door. The comforting scent of home-cooked meals wafted toward him, clashing with the tension gnawing at his gut.
“HARRY!” Molly Weasley’s voice boomed through the small house, filled with warmth and excitement. “You’re back! How was your trip? Did you get the Galleons?”
He plastered on a smile, the weight of the necklace pressing against his chest as he stepped inside. “Yeah, it was fine, just a little longer than I expected,” he replied, keeping his tone light despite the turmoil within.
“Fine?” Ron chimed in, shoving a handful of biscuits into his mouth. “Three hours? What took you so long? You didn’t have to wait for a goblin to finish a game of wizard chess, did you?” Laughter erupted from the group, the sound grating against his nerves.
“More like waiting for a lengthy heritage check,” Harry replied, feigning nonchalance as he crossed the threshold into the living room.
“Heritage check?” Hermione, who had been seated on the sofa, looked up with intrigue. “What do you mean?”
Too close, he thought. “Just some paperwork for my account. You know how Gringotts can be,” he replied, brushing it off.
Molly moved closer, her maternal instincts kicking in. “Are you feeling alright, dear? You look a bit pale,” she said, her brow furrowing in concern.
Harry forced a chuckle, clutching the necklace, its golden chain warm against his skin. “Just a bit tired from all the rituals,” he lied smoothly. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, but rituals can take a lot out of you,” Arthur Weasley said, emerging from the adjacent room, a faint whiff of soot and machinery clinging to him. “What kind of rituals?”
“Just a standard identification process,” Harry answered, his heart racing. “You know, nothing too complicated.”
Arthur nodded, though his eyes were still keen with curiosity. “Right. Well, I hope you got everything sorted out. Those goblins can be quite strict.”
As he took a seat at the table, he felt the weight of their gazes upon him. The atmosphere shifted, heavy with an unspoken tension.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Harry?” Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing in concern. “You can talk to us, you know.”
For a fleeting moment, Hadrian considered revealing everything—the truth about his lineage, the ritual, the necklace, even the Amortentia. But the look of pity in Hermione's eyes made him hesitate. He did not want their sympathy; he wanted their respect, their acknowledgment of his strength.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, forcing a light tone. “Just a lot to process.”
The conversation shifted, but Harry felt detached, his mind racing ahead. He could hear Ron and Hermione discussing their plans for the upcoming school year, but his heart was heavy with a looming dread. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were oblivious to the truth, even as they chatted merrily about Quidditch and school supplies.
Molly's voice broke through his thoughts once again. “You boys should help me with dinner. Harry, why don’t you set the table?”
“Sure, Mrs. Weasley,” he replied, standing up. As he gathered plates and cutlery, he couldn’t help but glance at Ron, who seemed blissfully unaware of the truth about their friendship.
“Harry, are you still planning to go back to Hogwarts?” Ron asked as he stacked bowls on the table. “You know, with everything that’s happened.”
“Of course,” Harry said, forcing a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good! I bet you can’t wait to show off your new robes!” Ron teased, nudging him playfully. The familiarity stung; it felt wrong, knowing what he now knew.
“Right,” he said, trying to muster enthusiasm. “New robes, all the rage.”
Hermione caught his eye and tilted her head slightly, a question lingering behind her brown eyes. “You’re really okay, though? I mean, after everything?”
After everything? Harry’s throat tightened. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just adjusting.”
“Good. Because I think we should work together this year, you know? We have to stick together,” she said, her voice filled with a sincerity he found both comforting and suffocating.
“I know,” Harry replied, the weight of their shared past mingling with his secrets. “And I appreciate it.”
Dinner went on, but Harry felt like he was on autopilot, moving through the motions while his mind replayed the events of the day. He avoided eye contact with the Weasleys, focusing on the food instead. Every laugh and every shared glance between them felt like a dagger, reminding him of the facade he had to maintain.
Later, as the plates were cleared and everyone settled back into the living room, Harry felt a spark of determination. I can’t let them control me anymore, he thought. Not after everything I’ve learned.
“Harry?” Hermione’s voice broke through his thoughts again, bringing him back to the moment. “What do you think about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? I heard they’re considering someone new.”
He looked up, meeting her expectant gaze. “It’ll be interesting to see who it is,” he replied, masking his true feelings. “I just hope they’re better than the last one.”
Molly chimed in, her voice bright. “Oh, I’m sure it’ll be wonderful! The Ministry always picks the best, don’t you think?”
Harry nodded, but internally, he bristled at the idea. He had little faith in the Ministry’s choices after everything that had transpired. A new professor? he mused. What difference would it make?
“Hey, I’ll bet it’s someone from the Sacred 28 families,” Ron said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I heard they’re pushing for more representation in the school.”
“That’s not necessarily a good thing,” Harry muttered, his mind wandering again. The Sacred 28, those pureblood families, had been nothing but a source of pain in his life. “I mean, isn’t it just a way to reinforce old prejudices?”
The room fell silent, everyone turning to him with surprise. “Wow, Harry! I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it,” Hermione said, her tone a mix of admiration and curiosity.
“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, feeling exposed. “It just seems like a bad idea to elevate those families when they’ve done so much to hurt others. It’s like rewarding bad behavior.”
Molly’s eyes softened, and she leaned forward. “Harry, dear, not all purebloods are bad. Some of them are quite nice! You’ve met the Malfoys; they’re not all like that.”
“Not all, no,” Harry conceded, “but a lot are. Just because they have a nice facade doesn’t mean they’re good people.” He could feel the tension in the air, a palpable discomfort that made him want to backtrack, but he pressed on. “It’s not just about blood; it’s about character.”
“Bloody right!” Ron exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table. “It’s the people that matter!”
Molly’s face was a mix of pride and worry. “You’re right, Harry, but be careful how you express that. People can be sensitive about bloodlines.”
He looked at her, searching for any hint of disapproval. “I know, but that’s just the reality of it, isn’t it? We can’t keep pretending it doesn’t exist.”
As the evening wore on, Harry could feel the weight of their gazes pressing on him, searching for a hint of what was really going on beneath the surface. He stood, excusing himself with a vague excuse of needing fresh air, and made his way to the garden.
The night sky was littered with stars, their twinkling light a balm for his tumultuous thoughts. He could hear the faint sounds of laughter and chatter coming from inside, but it felt distant, like he was watching from a different world.
'I have to figure this out' he then thought as he leaned against the Garden wall, the cool stone grounding him against the chaos of his thoughts. He closed his eyes inhaling the crisp night air, attempting to chase away the weight that pressed against his chest. Harry then took a moment before stealing himself, then returned back inside, the other occupants beside Fred and George were at the living room murmuring against one another. Fred and George were at the kitchen, sitting by themselves and talking about jokes they wanna try out when school starts up
“Oi, Harry!” Fred called out, waving enthusiastically. “Look who’s back from his top-secret mission! We were just about to send out a search party!”
Harry forced a smile, masking the turmoil inside, then sat himself between the twins at the empty chair between them. “Yeah, well, you know me—always getting caught up in the mundane details of life.”
“Right,” George chimed in, crossing his arms. “So what’s the verdict? Did you find out how to turn invisible? Or are you just really good at avoiding your friends?”
“It’s nothing,” Harry replied, trying to keep his tone light but aware of the weight of their concern. “Just a long day at Gringotts.”
The twins exchanged a knowing glance, their humor momentarily replaced by seriousness. “You sure? You know you can tell us anything, right?” Fred pressed, leaning closer, his expression earnest.
Harry took a deep breath, feeling the urge to confide in them battling against the instinct to protect them from the harsh reality he had uncovered. “I… I found out some stuff about my family,” he finally admitted, the words spilling out before he could second-guess himself. “About my parents, and… and Severus.”
George leaned forward, intrigued. “What about Snape? Did he finally admit he was wrong all along? Because I have to say, that would be a plot twist even we wouldn’t have seen coming.”
Harry chuckled lightly, grateful for their humor even in the face of his turmoil. “Not exactly. It’s more complicated than that. I found out he’s my mother, and James—my father—he’s alive.”
Silence enveloped the room as Fred and George processed this information. “Wait, Snape is your mother?” Fred echoed, his brows furrowing in confusion. “How does that even work?”
“It’s all part of a heritage thing I discovered at Gringotts. Apparently, I’m part of this rare lineage called Aetherborn. It’s powerful and—” he hesitated, remembering the intensity of the ritual, “and it changes everything.”
“Bloody hell, Harry!” George exclaimed, his eyes widening with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. “Finding out you’ve got this hidden power? That’s what every wizard dreams of!”
“But it comes with a price,” Harry interjected, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I overheard your parents, Fred. They… they were the ones who drugged me.”
The twins’ expressions hardened, the playful banter replaced by an undeniable seriousness. “What do you mean? Drugged you how?” Fred asked, his brow knitted in concern.
“With Amortentia and compulsions,” Harry explained, his heart racing as he laid bare the truth. “They wanted to control me, to make me… make me fall for Ginny.”
George clenched his fists, a flash of anger igniting in his eyes. “Those bloody traitors! I can’t believe they would do that to you, Harry. You deserve so much better.”
Fred nodded, his jaw tightening. “You’re like family to us. We’ve always got your back, mate. What do you need us to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” Harry replied, feeling a mixture of gratitude and frustration. “I need to think. But I didn’t want to keep this from you. I couldn’t.”
“You should have come to us sooner,” George said softly, the anger giving way to understanding. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us, Harry. Always.”
The weight of their support washed over him, and Harry felt a surge of warmth in his chest. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It means a lot.”
“So, what’s the plan then?” Fred asked, leaning back in his chair, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes. “I suggest we plot a few pranks. Maybe some exploding Snap?”
Harry chuckled, appreciating the lightheartedness they brought. “I think I’ll pass on the exploding Snap. But I do want to figure out how to confront them about this, not right now though, I just want things to be normal for a bit.”
“Alright, if that's what you want Harry but whenever your ready, do tell us” George said, a spark of determination in his eyes. “We’ll figure out how to expose them, and if they try to pull anything else, we’ll have your back.”
Fred grinned, leaning in closer. “And maybe we can convince the other Weasleys to join our side. I mean, we can’t let them get away with this. We’re the Weasley twins, for Merlin’s sake! We thrive on chaos!”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Harry’s lips. “You two are unbelievable, you know that?”
“We know,” Fred said, his expression proud. “But that’s why you love us.”
With their spirits lifted, the conversation turned to lighter topics, the air filled with laughter and camaraderie. As they shared stories and joked about their favorite pranks, Harry felt a sense of normalcy returning, even if just for a moment. He felt normal at times like these, with the twins.