Chapter 19- James Potter, New Friends and a Meeting
The morning air was crisp and cool as the first-year students gathered on the Hogwarts grounds for their flying lesson. The sky above was clear, a perfect blue canvas, and a light breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. Hadrian stood among the other Slytherins, his expression calm but his mind alert, taking in every detail around him. This was his first flying lesson, and he had no intention of blending into the background.
As the students lined up next to their brooms, Hadrian's eyes flicked to the Gryffindor group. There, standing at the front, was James Potter—his father. James was tall, with a shock of untidy black hair and glasses that did little to hide the coldness in his hazel eyes. His posture was confident, almost arrogant, as he addressed the Gryffindors, his voice loud and clear.
"Alright, listen up! Flying is one of the most important skills you'll learn at Hogwarts, so pay attention. I expect great things from you all," James said, his tone authoritative. But when his gaze landed on Hadrian, his confident demeanor faltered for just a fraction of a second, his eyes narrowing in a mix of surprise and something darker. And in that small time, Hadrian also saw another expression, guilt, pride, or was it something else? James looked at him in a way no person had ever did.
Hadrian didn't flinch under his father's scrutiny. Instead, he met James' gaze with a calm, almost challenging stare, the corners of his lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk. James seemed taken aback, his jaw tightening as he quickly looked away, his expression quickly changing, disgust and disbelief etched on his features. It was clear that the sight of his own son in Slytherin robes was something he hadn't anticipated, and the realization brought a bitter taste to his mouth.
"He doesn't even have the decency to feel ashamed for abandoning me," Hadrian thought, his smirk fading as a cold resolve settled in his chest. "But if he expects me to shy away, he's in for a surprise."
Madam Hooch, the flight instructor, arrived shortly after, her sharp eyes taking in the students with a keen assessment. She was a stern woman, with short gray hair and a no-nonsense attitude. "Everyone stand by your brooms. When I blow my whistle, kick off from the ground, hover for a moment, and then land back down."
As she gave the instructions, Hadrian positioned himself next to his broom, feeling the excitement and anticipation building within him. His hands were steady as he reached down, his fingers brushing the smooth wood of the broomstick. He had flown before, of course—his experiences with the gang had given him ample opportunities to hone his reflexes and agility—but this was different. This was his chance to prove himself, not just to the school, but to the man who had left him behind.
The whistle blew, and with a firm kick, Hadrian launched himself into the air. The broom responded instantly, rising with a smooth, controlled motion. He hovered effortlessly, feeling the wind rush past his face, the ground far below. Around him, the other students struggled to maintain their balance, some wobbling precariously in the air.
James watched the scene from below, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on Hadrian. He hadn't expected his son to excel, much less show such natural skill. It was infuriating—this boy, who bore his name but not his loyalty, flying as if he were born to it. A flash of anger sparked in James' chest, though he kept his expression carefully neutral.
But Hadrian could see it, the barely concealed fury in his father's eyes. It only spurred him on. With a sudden burst of speed, Hadrian shot forward, the broom responding as if it were an extension of his own body. He weaved through the air with precision, his movements fluid and controlled, every turn and dive executed with perfect grace.
Below, the other students stopped to watch, their eyes wide with astonishment. Even Madam Hooch looked impressed, her usual stern expression softening into something resembling approval. Hadrian's performance was nothing short of extraordinary, and the other Slytherins began to murmur among themselves, their voices filled with admiration.
James, however, was anything but pleased. His face twisted into a scowl as he watched his son soar above the rest. "How could this boy, this Slytherin filth, be so skilled?" The question gnawed at him, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
Hadrian, noticing the reaction, pushed himself further. He performed a series of loops and spirals, the broom responding with perfect precision. Each maneuver was executed with the intent of proving a point—to show James that he didn't need his approval, that he was more than capable on his own.
Finally, Madam Hooch blew her whistle again, signaling the end of the exercise. Hadrian landed smoothly, his feet touching the ground with a soft thud. He straightened, brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes, and glanced over at James. His father's expression was one of barely controlled rage, and it brought a cold satisfaction to Hadrian's heart. But then what was hat expression Hadrian had seen before?
As the lesson ended, the students began to disperse, chatting excitedly about the experience. Hadrian, however, remained silent, his thoughts still on the interaction with James. But before he could dwell on it further, he was approached by a small group of Slytherins—Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, and Daphne Greengrass.
Blaise was the first to speak, his voice smooth and slightly amused. "Impressive flying, Potter. You certainly know how to make an entrance."
Blaise Zabini was a tall, dark-skinned boy with sharp features and an air of quiet confidence. His dark eyes held a glint of amusement as he regarded Hadrian, his posture relaxed but poised. There was something about Blaise that suggested he was always calculating, always a step ahead, and his easy smile was often more a mask than a true expression of his thoughts."Thanks," Hadrian replied, his tone polite but guarded. He could sense that this was more than just a casual conversation—there was an underlying curiosity in Blaise's gaze, as if he were trying to figure out what made Hadrian tick.
Draco Malfoy, standing slightly to the side, nodded in agreement, though his expression was more reserved. "You've got skill, Potter. Not many first-years could pull off what you did."Draco Malfoy was a striking figure, with his platinum blonde hair and pale, pointed features.
He carried himself with an air of aristocratic pride, his posture always straight, his movements deliberate. His grey eyes were sharp, often scanning his surroundings with a critical eye, and his expression was usually one of cool detachment. However, beneath that exterior, there was a certain vulnerability—an uncertainty that he carefully concealed behind his haughty demeanor.
Hadrian could sense that vulnerability, though he didn't comment on it. Instead, he simply nodded, acknowledging Draco's compliment with a brief smile.Theodore Nott, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "I noticed the way you handled yourself out there. It wasn't just skill—it was precision. Like you've been doing this for years."
Theodore, or Theo as he preferred to be called, was a quiet, introspective boy with dark hair and a thoughtful expression. He often kept to the background, his movements deliberate and calculated, as if he were always analyzing the situation before deciding how to act. His dark eyes were intelligent, almost piercing, and they often seemed to see more than he let on.
Hadrian met Theo's gaze, recognizing a kindred spirit. "You could say that," he replied, his voice measured. "I've had... experience."
Daphne Greengrass, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. "You're different from the others," she said, her icy blue eyes locking onto Hadrian's. "You don't talk about your past much, do you?"
Daphne Greengrass was a beautiful girl with long, blonde hair and striking blue eyes that seemed to see right through people. She carried herself with a quiet confidence, her movements graceful and deliberate. Her expression was often one of calm composure, though there was a certain intensity in her gaze that hinted at a deeper, more complex personality.
She was perceptive, often noticing things that others overlooked, and she had a keen sense of intuition.
Hadrian hesitated for a moment, considering how much to reveal. "No," he said finally, his voice low. "I prefer to keep certain things to myself."The group fell silent for a moment, each of them processing Hadrian's words. It was clear that there was more to him than met the eye, and the others were intrigued, though they didn't press him for details.
"Fair enough," Blaise said finally, his tone light. "But if you ever feel like talking, you've got us. We Slytherins stick together, after all."
Hadrian nodded, appreciating the gesture. He could tell that Blaise was genuine, though he was also keenly aware that in Slytherin, alliances were often more about strategy than friendship. Still, there was something about this group that felt different. They were intelligent, perceptive, and they seemed to respect his boundaries—a rarity in his experience.
As they walked back to the castle, their conversation shifted to lighter topics—classes, teachers, and their impressions of Hogwarts so far. Draco was quick to complain about the Gryffindors, his voice tinged with disdain as he recounted his run-ins with some of them."They're so... self-righteous," Draco said, his lip curling in disgust. "Always acting like they're better than everyone else just because they're brave or noble or whatever nonsense they tell themselves."
Theo nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "It's true. They seem to think that being a Gryffindor automatically makes them superior. But they're just as flawed as the rest of us."Daphne smirked, her eyes flashing with amusement. "It's almost entertaining, watching them try so hard to live up to their own ideals. They set themselves such high standards, but they're only human."
Hadrian listened to their banter, a small smile playing on his lips. There was a camaraderie here, a sense of shared understanding, and it was something he hadn't experienced in a long time. But he remained cautious, not fully opening up, even as he engaged in the conversation.They soon arrived at the Slytherin common room, the cool, dark atmosphere a stark contrast to the warmth of the outside world. The green and silver decorations, the low lighting, and the comfortable chairs all created a sense of belonging, of being part of something exclusive.As they settled into the common room, Blaise leaned in closer to Hadrian, his voice low.
"I couldn't help but notice the way you and Professor Potter... interacted. There's some history there, isn't there?"
Hadrian's expression hardened slightly, though he kept his voice neutral. "You could say that. But it's not something I like to discuss."Blaise nodded, his eyes sharp. "Fair enough. Just know that if you need anything, we've got your back."
Hadrian appreciated the sentiment, though he remained wary. Trust was not something he gave easily, especially after everything he had been through. But he couldn't deny that there was something different about this group, something that made him consider, for the first time in a long time, the possibility of having allies—maybe even friends.
As the evening wore on, the conversation eventually shifted to their classes and their plans for the future. It was clear that each of them had their own ambitions, their own goals that they were determined to achieve.
Draco talked about his family's expectations, the weight of the Malfoy name, and how he intended to live up to it. There was a certain bitterness in his voice, a resentment towards the pressure placed on him, but also a fierce determination to prove himself.
Theo, on the other hand, was more reserved about his ambitions, though it was clear that he had his own plans. He spoke in a measured tone, his words carefully chosen, revealing little but hinting at a keen intellect and a deep understanding of the world around him.
Daphne was perhaps the most enigmatic of them all. She spoke with a calm confidence, her words often laced with subtlety and double meanings. It was clear that she was someone who thought deeply about everything, who analyzed every situation before acting. Her ambitions were less about power and more about understanding—understanding people, understanding magic, understanding the world.
Blaise, ever the strategist, spoke about the importance of connections, of building alliances and making the right moves at the right time. He was a master of social maneuvering, always thinking several steps ahead, and he made it clear that he intended to rise to the top, not through brute force, but through cunning and strategy.
Hadrian listened to each of them, taking in their words, their ambitions, and their personalities. He could see the potential in each of them, the strengths they brought to the table. And he couldn't help but wonder how they would all fit into his own plans.
By the time the night drew to a close, Hadrian felt a strange sense of contentment. He had made connections, formed alliances, and even found himself considering the possibility of friendship. But he remained guarded, knowing that in Slytherin, nothing was ever as it seemed.
As he lay in bed that night, his thoughts drifted back to the flying lesson, to the way James had looked at him with that mix of disgust and disbelief. Hadrian's resolve hardened. He would prove to his father, to everyone, that he was more than just a Potter. He was Hadrian, and he was going to make his own path.And as for the rivalry between him and James, Hadrian knew it was only the beginning. But he was ready. He had survived far worse, and he had no intention of backing down.With that final thought, Hadrian closed his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. Tomorrow was a new day, and he was more than ready to face whatever challenges it brought.
The staff meeting was held in the Headmaster's office, a room steeped in history and magic. The walls were adorned with portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses, their eyes watching over the proceedings with a mix of curiosity and authority.
The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and ink, mingling with the faint aroma of lemon drops that Dumbledore always kept on hand. The room was dominated by a large, ornate desk behind which Albus Dumbledore sat, his piercing blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.
Professor McGonagall sat primly in her chair, her lips pressed into a thin line as she adjusted her tartan shawl. Beside her, Professor Flitwick perched on a stack of cushions, his small frame barely reaching above the table. Snape lingered in the shadows, his dark eyes flicking between the faces of his colleagues with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. Sprout and Hagrid sat across the table, the former's fingers nervously fidgeting with a stray thread on her robe while the latter's massive hands rested awkwardly on his knees.
The meeting began as it always did, with Dumbledore's gentle voice setting the tone. "My dear colleagues, thank you for gathering today. There are a few matters we need to discuss, most notably concerning one of our newest students."
All eyes turned toward McGonagall, who nodded briskly. "Yes, Headmaster. I believe it's time we talk about Hadrian Potter."A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Dumbledore gestured for her to continue, leaning back in his chair as he steepled his fingers thoughtfully.
"I have been observing Mr. Potter closely since the Sorting," McGonagall began, her voice measured. "There's something... extraordinary about him. He is, without a doubt, one of the most gifted students I've ever encountered, and that's saying something."
She paused, recalling a specific memory from one of her Transfiguration classes. "Just the other day, I gave the first years a task that usually takes weeks to master—turning a matchstick into a needle. Most of the students struggled, as expected. But not Mr. Potter."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if reliving the moment. "He didn't just manage to transform the matchstick; he did it effortlessly. The needle was flawless, down to the finest detail, and he performed the spell without hesitation. It was as if he'd done it a hundred times before."
Flitwick's eyes sparkled with interest. "How extraordinary! I had a similar experience with him in Charms. He managed a levitation charm on his first try, something that even older students often find challenging. But it wasn't just that he performed the spell; it was how he did it. His control was impeccable, as if he were merely guiding the magic rather than commanding it."
The diminutive professor's voice grew more animated as he recounted the incident. "And then, when I asked him to try a more advanced charm—a Summoning Charm—he executed it perfectly. It's a spell I don't usually teach until third year, but Hadrian made it look effortless. He has an innate understanding of magic that is... quite remarkable."
Snape, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice a low, silky murmur. "I, too, have noticed Mr. Potter's... capabilities. He has a particular interest in Potions, though he prefers to keep his pursuits private."
The room's attention shifted to Snape, who leaned forward slightly, his expression inscrutable. "I caught him in the library one evening, poring over an advanced Potions book. Not one of the standard texts for his year, mind you, but something far beyond his level. He seemed utterly absorbed, as if the complexity of the material didn't faze him in the least."
Snape's eyes narrowed, his tone growing colder. "Later, I found him in an unused classroom, attempting to brew a potion from that very book. It was an advanced concoction, something even NEWT students would struggle with. And yet, there he was, carefully measuring ingredients, adjusting the flame with precision... He didn't see me, of course."
The Potions Master's lips curled into a slight sneer. "What struck me most was his composure. He worked with a calm, almost detached focus, as if failure wasn't even a possibility. I watched him for several minutes, and not once did he falter. The potion was nearly perfect when he finished, though he left before I could confront him."
Dumbledore listened intently, his gaze distant as he processed the information. "It seems we have a truly exceptional student among us," he mused. "But there is more to this than just academic brilliance."
McGonagall nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Indeed, Albus. There's something about Hadrian that... troubles me. He's remarkably composed, especially for someone so young. Too composed, perhaps."
Sprout, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "He doesn't seem like other students his age. There's a... darkness about him. Not in the sense of malevolence, but rather, a weight that he carries. It's as if he's been through something... something no child should have to endure."Hagrid, his large hands twisting nervously in his lap, added in his rumbling voice, "Aye, I've seen him in the grounds a few times. He's always by himself, always watchin' the forest. There's a sadness in his eyes, somethin' that ain't right for a lad that young."
Dumbledore's eyes flicked to the far end of the room, where James Potter sat, his face a mask of barely concealed worry. James had been quiet throughout the meeting, but now, under the scrutiny of his former Headmaster, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"James," Dumbledore said softly, "you know your son better than any of us. What do you make of this?"James hesitated, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words. "Hadrian... he's always been different. Even as a child, he was quiet, observant. But after the incident... after he was separated from us... he changed."
There was a pause, the room heavy with the unspoken truth. Everyone knew the story—how Hadrian had been taken in by a Muggle gang, how he had lived among them for years before being found and brought back into the wizarding world. But the details were murky, and Hadrian himself had revealed little about that time.
"He doesn't talk about it," James continued, his voice strained. "Not to me, not to Lily, not to anyone. But I know it's affected him deeply. Sometimes, I look at him, and it's like he's... carrying something, something he doesn't want to share."
The room fell into a contemplative silence. Dumbledore's gaze softened as he regarded James with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. "Hadrian has been through more than any child should have to endure," he said quietly. "It's only natural that he would carry some of that with him."
McGonagall's sharp eyes darted to Dumbledore, her voice edged with concern. "But Albus, should we be worried? This darkness... could it lead him down a dangerous path?"Dumbledore sighed, his gaze distant once more. "It is too soon to tell, Minerva. But I believe Hadrian is stronger than we give him credit for. He has endured much, yes, but he has also shown a remarkable resilience. We must watch over him, guide him, but not smother him. He needs space to grow, to find his own way."
Snape's eyes flickered with something unreadable as he leaned back in his chair, his expression as inscrutable as ever. "If he is indeed as strong as you believe, Headmaster, then perhaps he will manage. But strength can also be a double-edged sword. It can protect, but it can also isolate."Dumbledore nodded slowly, acknowledging Snape's point. "Indeed, Severus. We must tread carefully. Hadrian is a remarkable young man, but he is still just a boy. A boy who has seen too much."
The meeting began to wind down, the professors exchanging quiet words as they prepared to leave. But the atmosphere was still heavy, the weight of their discussion lingering in the air.As the staff members filed out of the office, James lingered behind, his gaze fixed on Dumbledore. "Albus... what do we do? How do we help him?"
Dumbledore regarded James with a kind, if somewhat sad, smile. "We offer him support, James. We let him know that he is not alone, that he has people who care about him. But we must also respect his boundaries. Hadrian is not like other children. He needs to find his own path, in his own time."
James nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "I just want to do what's best for him.""And you will," Dumbledore assured him. "Just be there for him, when he needs you. That is the best thing you can do."
With that, the meeting came to an end, and the last of the staff members left the office, leaving Dumbledore alone with his thoughts. The Headmaster's gaze lingered on the flickering flames in the fireplace, his mind churning with the implications of what had been discussed.
Hadrian Potter was an enigma, a boy with a past shrouded in darkness. But there was also light within him, a potential that Dumbledore could not ignore. The challenge would be to nurture that light, to guide Hadrian without stifling him.
But even as Dumbledore pondered this, he could not shake the feeling that there was something more to Hadrian's story, something hidden in the shadows of his past. And that, more than anything, concerned him.
Later that evening, as the castle's ancient walls echoed with the whispers of the past, a summons reached Hadrian Potter. A brief note delivered by a house-elf, requesting his presence in the Headmaster's office. The message was simple, almost casual, but Hadrian knew better than to take it lightly.
As he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps silent on the stone floor, Hadrian couldn't help but feel a prickle of unease. Dumbledore had always been a figure of authority, a man of immense power and wisdom. But there was also something unsettling about him, a sense of calculation beneath the warmth of his exterior.
Hadrian paused before the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The creature's stony eyes regarded him impassively until Hadrian whispered the password—"Lemon drop"—and it sprang to life, leaping aside to reveal a spiral staircase.
The stairs carried him upward, each step bringing him closer to the headmaster's domain. As he reached the top, the door to the office swung open, revealing the room within.
Dumbledore's office was a place of wonder and mystery, filled with strange and wondrous objects. Shelves lined with ancient tomes and curious artifacts, a silver instrument on a nearby table puffing out wisps of smoke that twisted into intricate patterns. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting long shadows that danced on the walls.
Hadrian stepped inside, his eyes sweeping over the room, taking in every detail. The portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses watched him with a mix of curiosity and expectation, their eyes following his every move. The air was thick with magic, a subtle hum that vibrated just beneath the surface, as if the very walls were alive with power.
"Ah, Hadrian, do come in," Dumbledore's voice was warm and inviting, but Hadrian detected the subtle undercurrent of something more—something probing.
Hadrian approached the desk where Dumbledore sat, his expression carefully neutral. He could feel the headmaster's gaze on him, weighing him, assessing him. There was a slight twitch in Dumbledore's fingers as he gestured for Hadrian to sit, a barely perceptible sign of the man's inner thoughts.
"I trust you've settled in well?" Dumbledore began, his tone conversational, almost casual.Hadrian nodded, his posture relaxed but his mind alert. "Yes, sir. Everything's fine."Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his glasses, but Hadrian didn't miss the way they seemed to sharpen ever so slightly. "Good, good. I've been hearing excellent reports from your professors. They're quite impressed with your abilities."
Hadrian inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the compliment without letting it go to his head. "Thank you, sir."Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepling as he regarded Hadrian with an expression of mild curiosity. "You've had quite an interesting journey to Hogwarts, haven't you, Hadrian?"
The question was innocuous enough, but Hadrian sensed the intent behind it. Dumbledore was probing, searching for something beneath the surface. Hadrian maintained his mask of indifference, his voice steady as he replied, "I suppose you could say that."Dumbledore's gaze didn't waver, but there was a slight shift in his posture, a subtle indication that he was not entirely satisfied with the answer. "I imagine it must have been difficult, being separated from your family for so long."
Hadrian met Dumbledore's gaze head-on, his expression unreadable. "It was... different."There was a pause, a brief moment of silence that stretched between them, laden with unspoken questions. Dumbledore's fingers drummed lightly on the surface of his desk, a seemingly absent-minded gesture, but one that betrayed the headmaster's deeper thoughts."I understand you spent some time with a group of... rather unconventional caretakers," Dumbledore ventured, his tone light, almost curious. "Would you like to tell me about them?"Hadrian's eyes narrowed fractionally, a subtle tightening around the edges that most would have missed. But Dumbledore noticed, his own expression remaining carefully neutral. "They were good to me," Hadrian replied, his voice cool. "They taught me a lot."
Dumbledore's gaze flicked to a nearby shelf, where a strange, whirring object spun slowly in the air. "I'm sure they did. But I must admit, I am curious about what sort of... lessons you might have learned during your time with them."
Hadrian's lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Survival, mostly."
The headmaster nodded thoughtfully, as if considering Hadrian's words. "And what do you think of Hogwarts so far? How does it compare?""It's... different," Hadrian said again, his tone giving nothing away. "But I'm adjusting."Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "I see. And have you had any contact with your brother, Skylar, since arriving?"
Hadrian's expression didn't change, but there was a slight tension in his shoulders, a barely noticeable tightening of his jaw. "No, sir."Dumbledore nodded slowly, as if this was the answer he had expected. "I see. Family is important, Hadrian. It's good to maintain those connections, even when circumstances pull us apart."
Hadrian remained silent, his eyes flicking to the portraits on the walls, then back to Dumbledore. He could sense the headmaster's subtle attempts to steer the conversation, to draw out more information. But Hadrian wasn't about to let his guard down.The conversation shifted to more mundane topics, Dumbledore asking about Hadrian's classes, his interests, his plans for the future. But throughout it all, Hadrian remained on high alert, his senses attuned to the headmaster's every word, every gesture.
Finally, Dumbledore seemed to sense that he wouldn't get any more from Hadrian than what the boy was willing to give. The headmaster's demeanor softened slightly, his voice returning to its usual warmth as he said, "Thank you for coming, Hadrian. If you ever need anything, my door is always open."
Hadrian stood, his expression still neutral as he inclined his head. "Thank you, sir."As he turned to leave, something on Dumbledore's desk caught his eye. A small, intricately carved symbol etched into a piece of parchment. It was simple, yet somehow powerful—a triangle enclosing a circle, with a line bisecting both. The Deathly Hallows.
Hadrian's gaze lingered on the symbol for just a moment before he tore his eyes away, his heart skipping a beat. He didn't know what it meant, but he knew it was significant. Something deep within him stirred, a sense of recognition that he couldn't quite place.
Dumbledore noticed the flicker of interest in Hadrian's eyes, but he said nothing, merely watching as the boy left the office. The door closed behind Hadrian with a soft click, leaving the headmaster alone in the flickering candlelight.
As Hadrian walked back to his dormitory, his mind raced with questions. What was that symbol? Why did it feel so familiar? And more importantly, what did Dumbledore know that he wasn't telling?
The answers were elusive, but one thing was certain—Hadrian would find out. He had learned much in his time with the gang, but there was still so much more to uncover. And he would do it his way, on his terms.For now, though, he would have to bide his time, waiting and watching, just as he had done in the past. But one day, he would have the answers he sought.And when that day came, nothing would stand in his way.
Dumbledore meanwhile was brooding. He was thinking about his mistakes. How he had contributed to the help of not only one but two of the most infamous dark lords. And Hadrian reminded him of someone. A very specific someone. A boy, who too, like Hadrian had been abandoned, and who had lived with muggles. He sighed and turned around to leave for the day.