Chapter 34- The Price of Power
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was alive with its usual grandeur as the school year began anew. The long tables gleamed under the floating candles, their warm light casting a golden hue on the students who had returned for their second year. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the night sky outside—a deep navy expanse punctuated by a sea of stars, glittering like shards of broken glass scattered across the heavens. The atmosphere buzzed with the anticipation of a new term, the students' chatter weaving an intricate tapestry of sound that filled the cavernous hall.
Hadrian sat at the Slytherin table, his posture relaxed but deliberate. His piercing green eyes, framed by a sharp jawline and raven-black hair, observed the hall with an intensity that made those who caught his gaze feel as though he could see right through them. Beside him sat Draco Malfoy, who exuded his usual self-assured arrogance, though the way his fingers drummed lightly against the table betrayed a hint of nervous excitement for the coming year. On Draco's other side, Pansy Parkinson clung to his arm, her laughter tinkling like bells as she leaned close, her glossy black hair falling over her shoulder. The pair had made their relationship official during the summer, and while Draco bore it with a smug pride, there was a certain stiffness in his posture that suggested he wasn't entirely comfortable with Pansy's public displays of affection.
Across from Hadrian, Blaise Zabini sipped lazily from a goblet of pumpkin juice, his dark eyes scanning the room with an air of detached amusement. Blaise was always enigmatic, his expressions revealing just enough to intrigue but never enough to decipher. Next to him, Theo Nott adjusted his tie with a slight tug, his brows furrowed as though lost in thought. Theo's reserved demeanor often made him fade into the background, but his sharp wit and loyalty to his friends were qualities that Hadrian had come to respect. Finally, Daphne Greengrass sat to Hadrian's left, her ice-blue eyes darting around the room with a calculated sharpness. She carried herself with an elegance that seemed innate, her movements fluid and deliberate. Occasionally, her lips would curve into a subtle smirk, betraying the biting humor that lay beneath her composed exterior.
The first years entered the hall in a slow procession, their faces a mixture of awe and trepidation as they beheld the splendor of the Great Hall for the first time. Professor McGonagall, stern and regal in her emerald robes, led them to the front where the Sorting Hat awaited. Its ancient, weathered appearance seemed almost out of place amidst the grandeur of the feast, but when it opened its wide brim and began to sing, all chatter in the hall ceased.
Its song spoke of unity and division, of the strengths that each house cherished, and the legacy they were all part of. As the song concluded, the sorting began, and one by one, the first years stepped forward, their names echoing through the hall.
"Adrian Lonsdale," McGonagall called, and a wiry boy with a nervous expression shuffled forward. The hat barely touched his head before it shouted, "Hufflepuff!" The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers, welcoming their newest member with warm smiles and hearty applause.
"Evelyn Crosswell," McGonagall announced. A girl with fiery red hair and determined eyes strode forward. The hat deliberated for a moment before declaring, "Gryffindor!" Evelyn's face broke into a radiant smile as she joined her housemates, who were clapping enthusiastically.
"Gideon Ashworth," a boy with a mop of curly brown hair, was next. The hat hummed thoughtfully before exclaiming, "Ravenclaw!" Gideon looked relieved as he made his way to the Ravenclaw table, where he was met with polite applause.
The sorting continued, each name and subsequent house placement adding to the growing energy in the room. Finally, the last student was sorted, and the Sorting Hat was carried away. Dumbledore rose from his seat at the head table, his silver beard glinting in the candlelight.
"Welcome," he began, his voice resonating through the hall, "to another year at Hogwarts. To our returning students, welcome back. To our first years, welcome home. Remember, this castle has secrets waiting to be discovered—some delightful, others dangerous. But fear not, for as long as you remain curious and courageous, you shall find your way."
He paused, his eyes twinkling as he surveyed the room. "Now, before we begin our feast, I must impart a few words of wisdom: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" The students chuckled softly, a ripple of amusement passing through the hall, though Hadrian's lips merely twitched in a faint smile. Dumbledore clapped his hands, and the empty golden plates before them were suddenly piled high with a dazzling array of food.
The feast was nothing short of magical. Roasted chicken, golden-brown turkey legs, steaming bowls of mashed potatoes, and fluffy Yorkshire puddings filled the table. There were platters of fresh vegetables, dripping with butter, alongside an assortment of pies, tarts, and cakes that seemed too beautiful to eat. The air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of spices, roast meats, and freshly baked bread.
Hadrian loaded his plate with care, though his mind was elsewhere. While his friends exchanged banter, often veering into suggestive and risqué jokes, he barely registered their laughter. Daphne, seated beside Hadrian, and Tonks, who had joined them briefly from the Hufflepuff table, were particularly relentless, their jokes layered with innuendo that made Blaise chuckle and Theo turn an impressive shade of red. Hadrian, however, remained distant, his thoughts consumed by the Tome of Shadows he had acquired over the summer.
The book was an enigma, filled with spells and incantations far beyond their standard curriculum. He had spent weeks poring over its contents, his curiosity growing with every turn of the page. Tonight, he resolved, he would practice a silencing spell powerful enough to cloak his endeavors from prying ears. His lips curled into a faint smirk as he imagined the power he could wield once he mastered its secrets.
When the plates finally cleared, signaling the end of the feast, Daphne and Tonks sidled up to Hadrian. Daphne's icy demeanor softened as she leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear. "Think you're ready for another adventure like the one on the train?" she whispered, her voice laced with mischief.
Tonks, her hair a playful shade of lavender tonight, grinned as she brushed past him, her hand lingering on his arm. "You were quite... enthusiastic last time," she teased, her tone low and suggestive.
Hadrian arched a brow, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "As tempting as it is to relive such... fond memories," he drawled, his voice carrying a teasing note, "I have more important matters to attend to—like making sure I don't fail Potions because of your incessant distractions."
Both girls laughed, their amusement genuine, though the glint in their eyes suggested they weren't entirely deterred. As they parted ways, Hadrian made his way to the dormitory with deliberate steps, his mind already constructing the evening's plan.
Once inside the quiet sanctum of his dormitory, he withdrew the tome from beneath his pillow. The leather cover was cool beneath his fingertips, the intricate runes embossed on its surface catching the faint light from the enchanted lanterns. With a wave of his wand, he cast a silencing spell around his bed, the air shimmering briefly as the magic took hold.
He settled onto the mattress, his mind sharpening with focus. Tonight, there would be no distractions, no playful banter or fleeting temptations. Tonight, he would delve into the shadows and make them his own.
Hadrian stood alone in his dimly lit room, the only light coming from his wand tip, casting eerie shadows on the walls. His eyes were fixed on the open journal of Herpo the Foul, the dark text written in a language that seemed to resonate with malevolence. The room was sealed with powerful silencing charms, ensuring that no sound would escape and that no one would witness what he was about to do.
With a deep breath, Hadrian raised his wand and focused on the task at hand. He visualized the dummies in his mind—human figures made of straw but eerily lifelike. A sharp flick of his wrist and a muttered incantation later, three dummies appeared before him, their blank faces staring back at him.
He began with basic spells, easing into the practice session. The dummies jolted as he hit them with Stunning Spells, their movements stiff and unnatural. But Hadrian wasn't here for simple spells. He wanted to test the dark magic that Herpo's journal whispered about.
With a steely resolve, he moved on to the first of the dark spells.
"Sectumsempra!"
The spell erupted from his wand with a sharp, cutting force. It slashed through the air and struck the first dummy. Immediately, deep gashes appeared on the dummy's torso, straw spilling out like entrails. The sight was grotesque, and Hadrian's heart pounded with a mix of fear and fascination. He took a moment to steady his breath, feeling the weight of the magic he was wielding.
He didn't stop. The power coursing through him was intoxicating, and he pressed on."Mors Umbranum!"
The second dummy convulsed violently, its limbs flailing as if in unimaginable pain. Though it made no sound, the horror of its suffering was palpable. The dummy's movements were so lifelike that Hadrian could almost hear the silent screams. His hand shook slightly, the power of the spell resonating through him, dark and unrelenting.
Finally, he raised his wand one last time, focusing on the third dummy. A grim smile played on his lips as he whispered, "Infernus Ignis."
Flames burst forth, engulfing the dummy in a fiery blaze. The heat was intense, making Hadrian step back. The smell of burning straw filled the room, mingling with the scent of dark magic. The dummy crumbled to ash, leaving nothing but a charred pile on the floor.
But the cost of such power was great. Hadrian felt the exhaustion creeping in, his limbs heavy and his mind foggy. The magical exertion had taken a toll on him. His vision blurred, and he staggered, barely catching himself on the edge of the desk. His breathing was labored, and he knew he had pushed himself too far.
His legs gave way, and he sank to the floor, his wand clattering beside him. He forced himself to stay conscious, focusing on his breathing as he closed his eyes and tried to center his mind. The darkness in his thoughts, the echoes of the spells, were hard to push away, but he needed to regain control.
After what felt like hours, he finally managed to clear his mind enough to perform Occlumency, building mental barriers to block out the lingering effects of the dark magic. The process was slow and painful, but it was necessary.
As he lay there on the cold floor, Hadrian muttered to himself, "May God have mercy on my enemies because I sure won't." The words hung in the air, a solemn vow that carried the weight of the power he had just wielded.
Hadrian woke the next morning with a splitting headache. The room spun slightly as he sat up, and he had to steady himself against the bedpost. The toll of last night's magical exertion was severe, leaving him drained and barely able to muster the energy to get dressed.
He managed to stumble into the Great Hall for breakfast, his face pale and drawn. The headache only eased after he had eaten something, though it left him with a lingering sense of fatigue that made the day ahead seem daunting.
The first day of classes was a blur. Hadrian moved through the corridors like a shadow, his mind still clouded with exhaustion. His professors droned on, their words barely registering in his tired brain. He noticed the occasional sneer from James Potter, a reminder of their strained relationship.
James's eyes would dart toward Hadrian during classes, filled with a mixture of disdain and confusion, as if trying to decipher what Hadrian was hiding. Hadrian ignored him, focusing instead on making it through the day without collapsing.
During lunch, the Slytherin table was a hive of subtle movements and sharp exchanges. Hadrian took his usual seat, noticing the way the other houses cast sidelong glances at them. He could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken rivalry between Slytherin and the rest of the school.
Daphne Greengrass sat next to him, her presence a mix of cool indifference and sharp attention.
She leaned in closer than necessary, her arm brushing against his in a way that made Hadrian's pulse quicken. "You look tired, Hadrian," she said softly, her voice laced with concern, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. "Rough night?"
Hadrian smirked, though he felt his face flush slightly at her proximity. "You could say that."
Daphne's lips curled into a knowing smile, and she lightly trailed her fingers across the back of his hand before moving to sit down. The brief touch sent a shiver down Hadrian's spine, and he couldn't help but notice the jealous looks they received from the other boys at the table
.
Blaise Zabini, seated across from them, raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between Daphne and Hadrian. "Must have been some night," he drawled, his voice smooth as silk. "Care to share with the rest of us?"
Hadrian chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing worth talking about," he replied, keeping his tone light. "Just some late-night studying."
"Studying, right," Theo Nott said with a smirk, leaning back in his seat. His eyes darted to Daphne, who was now casually twirling a lock of her blonde hair around her finger. "I'm sure it was very... enlightening."
Daphne's eyes narrowed slightly, but her smile remained. "Jealous, Theo?" she asked, her tone teasing. "Or just curious?"Theo shrugged, his expression neutral, though there was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. "A bit of both, perhaps."
The conversation continued, with the Slytherins exchanging stories about their summer holidays. Draco Malfoy recounted a visit to France, where his family had stayed at a luxurious manor. His voice held a note of pride, but his eyes flickered with something darker—envy, perhaps, at the freedom his parents allowed him, compared to the control they exerted over every aspect of his life.
Blaise talked about a trip to Italy, where he had spent time with his mother, a renowned beauty who had outlived several husbands. His tone was light, but Hadrian noticed the way Blaise's fingers drummed against the table, a sign of underlying tension.
Theo was quieter than usual, his gaze distant as the others spoke. Hadrian caught the subtle clench of Theo's jaw, the way his hand tightened around his goblet as he listened to Draco and Blaise. Something was bothering him, but Theo wasn't one to share easily.
Daphne, meanwhile, kept her attention on Hadrian. She leaned in occasionally, her leg brushing against his under the table, and each time she did, Hadrian felt a surge of heat. Her presence was intoxicating, her flirtations deliberate and calculated. She knew the effect she had on him, and she used it to her advantage. Her hands occasionally brushed against his crotch, and Hadrian sensed something bulging from his pants. Suddenly Daphne squeezed his crotch while nobody was looking, and Hadrian left out a low moan. She just grinned and began to rub her hands slowly against his hardening member. But she stopped when Hadrian started to moan a little more louder. And then she behaved like nothing happened and continued to eat her food.
The Slytherins continued to poke fun at the professors and other students, their words laced with sarcasm and subtle insults. They laughed at the antics of a Gryffindor first-year who had tripped over his own feet in Potions and made light of Professor Snape's disdainful remarks. But despite the laughter, Hadrian could sense the underlying tension.
Each of them was keenly aware of the need to maintain a composed exterior in public, even among friends.
As they finished their meal and prepared to leave the Great Hall, Daphne leaned in one last time, her breath warm against Hadrian's ear. "I'll see you later," she whispered, her voice sending a shiver down his spine. She pulled away slowly, her fingers lightly brushing his arm before she stood and walked away, her hips swaying provocatively.
Hadrian watched her go, his thoughts a swirl of emotions. He could feel the eyes of the other Slytherins on him, but he kept his expression neutral, giving nothing away. As they exited the hall, the group kept their composure, their laughter subdued as they made their way back to the Slytherin common room.
Later that evening, the boys gathered in the common room, where the atmosphere was more relaxed. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the dark green and silver decor. They joked around, their earlier composure slipping away as they let their guards down.Theo leaned back in his chair, a rare look of vulnerability crossing his face as he spoke about his father's expectations.
"It's like nothing I do is ever good enough for him, he beats me so much that it doesn't even hurt anymore, it just leaves a void in my heart , like I am being hammered by a piece of hot metal, and the person hammering is my own father," Theo admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes darted to Hadrian, as if gauging his reaction, but quickly looked away when he saw Hadrian's empathetic nod.
Draco, who had been lounging on the sofa, sighed. "I know the feeling," he said, his tone uncharacteristically somber. "My father's the same. It's always about duty, about upholding the Malfoy name. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to just... live my own life."
Blaise, who had been silently observing the conversation, finally spoke up. "We're all expected to be perfect," he said, his voice smooth but tinged with bitterness. "But perfection is a facade. We're all just trying to survive in this world, to find our own paths, even if it means defying our families."
The room fell silent as the weight of Blaise's words hung in the air. Each of them had their own battles, their own struggles hidden beneath their confident exteriors. It was a rare moment of honesty, a glimpse into the vulnerabilities that they rarely showed.
Hadrian, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. "We're all in this together," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together. We're stronger as a group than we are alone."
The others nodded in agreement, their earlier tension easing as they found comfort in each other's presence. It was a bond forged in the fires of Slytherin ambition, tempered by the shared burden of their families' expectations.
But the moment was interrupted by the arrival of Daphne, who entered the common room with a sly smile. Her eyes locked onto Hadrian, and she sauntered over to him, her movements graceful and deliberate. "Hadrian," she purred, "a word?"
Hadrian felt a surge of anticipation as he rose from his seat, nodding to the others before following Daphne out of the common room. As they walked down the dimly lit corridor, the tension between them was palpable. The silence was heavy, charged with unspoken desires and the weight of what was to come.
When they reached Daphne's private quarters, she closed the door behind them, sealing them in a cocoon of darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the window, casting long shadows across the room.
Daphne turned to face Hadrian, her eyes smoldering with intent. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly against his chest as she looked up at him through thick lashes. "You've been on my mind all day," she whispered, her voice low and sultry.
Hadrian's breath hitched as she pressed herself against him, her body warm and inviting. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the subtle scent of her perfume intoxicating his senses.
"Daphne," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.
She smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips, and reached up to cup his face. Her thumb brushed across his lower lip, sending a shiver down his spine. "I can't stop thinking about you," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "About how much I want you."
Hadrian's heart raced as Daphne leaned in, her lips hovering just inches from his. He could feel her breath on his skin, warm and inviting. The tension between them was electric, a charged connection that threatened to ignite at any moment.
Unable to resist any longer, Hadrian closed the distance, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. Daphne responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer. Their bodies pressed together, the kiss deepening as they lost themselves in the intensity of the moment.
Daphne's hands roamed over Hadrian's back, her touch firm and demanding. She guided him toward the bed, their lips never breaking contact. When they finally reached the edge, she pushed him onto the mattress, straddling him with a predatory gleam in her eyes.
Hadrian's hands found their way to her waist, holding her close as she leaned down to kiss him again. Her lips were soft and insistent, her movements slow and deliberate. Each touch, each kiss, was calculated to drive him wild, to make him want more.
--MATURE CONTENT--
Daphne's hands began to move lower, to Hadrian's manhood, her fingers closed against his erection, and he leaned into her. She pulled his pants down just a bit. She started to rub her bottom against Hadrian's crotch and Hadrian felt like he was about to explode, but each time he was about to release, she stopped herself, ultimately, she rubbed against him so aggressively, Hadrian came down suddenly, it felt like he was about to explode. He felt all his tension disappear. He could see only Daphne. His robes were stained with white while Daphne's porcelain white hands continued to milk him of his semen, each brush against Hadrian's swollen member like hot water. She squeezed his balls and milked him dry, then rubbed him clean.
Daphne pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire as she looked down at him. "I want to make you forget everything," she whispered, her voice husky with longing. "I want to be the only thing you think about."
--MATURE--
Hadrian's response was to pull her back down, capturing her lips in another searing kiss. The intensity of their connection was overwhelming, a tidal wave of emotions that threatened to consume them both. Daphne's hands tangled in his hair, her fingers gripping tightly as she deepened the kiss, her body moving against his in a slow, sensual rhythm.
For a moment, there was no worry, no family politics, just two extremely horny teens in love with each other.
They lost track of time, their world narrowing down to just the two of them. The only sounds were their heavy breathing and the soft rustle of fabric as they moved against each other. The outside world ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the heat between them, the electric connection that crackled with every touch, every kiss.
But beneath the passion, there was something more—an unspoken understanding, a bond that went beyond mere physical attraction. It was a connection of souls, a merging of desires and emotions that neither of them could fully explain. It was as if they were two halves of the same whole, drawn together by forces beyond their control.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless and flushed, Daphne smiled down at Hadrian, her expression softening. "You're mine," she whispered, her voice laced with possessiveness and affection. "And I'm yours."
Hadrian smiled back, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions—desire, affection, and something deeper, something he couldn't quite put into words. "Always," he murmured, pulling her down for another kiss.
The night stretched on, their connection deepening with each passing moment. They explored each other's bodies with a sense of reverence, as if they were discovering something sacred. Every touch, every kiss, was an affirmation of their bond, a promise that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead together.
But as the night drew to a close, and they lay entwined in each other's arms, a shadow of doubt crept into Hadrian's mind. The path they were on was fraught with danger, and he knew that their relationship would be tested in ways they couldn't yet imagine. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the warmth of Daphne's body against his, the steady rhythm of her breathing as she drifted off to sleep.
Hadrian stayed awake, staring up at the ceiling as he contemplated the events of the day. The dark magic, the tension with his friends, the passion with Daphne—it was all a delicate balancing act, one that required careful attention and a steady hand.
But as he held Daphne close, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she slept, Hadrian couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. The night had been a brief respite, a moment of peace in a stormy sea, but he knew that the challenges ahead would be even greater. And as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't shake the feeling that the price of power was one that he would have to pay—sooner or later.
The next morning, Hadrian awoke to find Daphne still asleep beside him, her face peaceful and serene. He watched her for a moment, taking in the delicate curve of her cheek, the way her lashes brushed against her skin. She looked so vulnerable in that moment, so different from the confident, powerful witch he had come to know.
But as he lay there, the events of the previous night came rushing back to him—the dark magic, the tension with his friends, the passion with Daphne. It was all so overwhelming, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping in.
He carefully slipped out of bed, trying not to wake her, and dressed quickly. As he left her room and made his way back to his own quarters, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming, something that would test him in ways he couldn't yet imagine.
When he entered his room, he found a letter waiting for him on his desk. It was sealed with the mark of the Ministry of Magic, and his heart skipped a beat as he picked it up. How did it get there?
With trembling hands, he broke the seal and opened the letter. The words were written in a formal, official tone, but the message was clear: his presence was required at a hearing before the Wizengamot. The charges were vague, but the implications were clear—he was being investigated for his use of dark magic.
Hadrian's blood ran cold as he read the letter, the weight of the situation sinking in. He knew that this was only the beginning, that the price of power was one that he would have to pay, and that the consequences would be severe. He thought about how they even detected magic in a place like Hogwarts, but then, it was not as if super dark magic was taught over here. And the magic he had performed last night was very intense and ancient, so it would have been very easy to detect the caster.
As he stood there, the letter clutched in his hand, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping in. The path he had chosen was a dangerous one, and there was no turning back now.But despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, Hadrian knew that he couldn't back down. He had come too far, and there was too much at stake. He would face whatever challenges lay ahead, no matter the cost.