Chapter 35- The Dark Ritual
The day after the letter arrived was one Hadrian would never forget. He stayed locked in his room, the walls of the Slytherin dormitory seeming to close in around him. The weight of the impending trial loomed like a dark cloud, pressing down on him with an oppressive force that left him nearly gasping for breath. The letter still sat on his desk, untouched since he first read it, the heavy parchment an ominous reminder of what was to come.
Hadrian's thoughts were in turmoil. He knew he had to do something—anything—to prepare. But what could he do against the might of the Wizengamot? He had learned a great deal since his time at Hogwarts, but would it be enough? He couldn't afford to fail.
In a desperate bid to gain control, he turned to the only thing he knew might help: Occlumency. He had been practicing for months now, constructing a mental fortress to protect his mind from intrusion. It was a daunting task, one that required immense concentration and willpower.
But he knew it wasn't enough. The walls of his mental castle were strong, but not impervious. There were still weaknesses, chinks in the armor that could be exploited by a skilled Legilimens.
His hands trembled slightly as he pulled out Herpo the Foul's journal, the dark leather cover worn and cracked with age. The pages inside were filled with the most terrible and dangerous knowledge, the kind of magic that was best left forgotten. But Hadrian had no choice. He needed every advantage he could get.
Flipping through the pages, he found the section he was looking for—a ritual that promised to make one's mind nearly impenetrable.
The details were horrific, involving blood, pain, and memories best left buried. But Hadrian's resolve was steel. He would do whatever it took.
The ritual required a significant sacrifice—one's darkest memory, offered up as fuel for a demon that would guard his mind. Hadrian's breath hitched as he recalled the memories he had long since tried to suppress. The Dursleys... Vernon... the cupboard under the stairs.
He shook his head, banishing the thoughts for now. He needed to focus. The ritual had to be performed perfectly, or the consequences could be catastrophic.
Hadrian carefully transfigured the journal into what appeared to be a Charms textbook. The illusion was perfect, a necessary precaution in case anyone decided to investigate. Satisfied, he gathered the materials he would need—his wand, a silver knife, and a vial of his own blood. He had been preparing for this, practicing the steps in his mind over and over until they were second nature.
The room was silent save for the soft crackle of the fireplace as Hadrian knelt on the cold stone floor, drawing the necessary runes in his own blood. Each stroke was deliberate, precise, as he formed the circle that would serve as the ritual's anchor. The scent of iron filled the air, sharp and metallic, mingling with the musty odor of old books.
Finally, the circle was complete. Hadrian took a deep breath, steadying himself as he drew the silver knife across his temples, the pain sharp but manageable. He let the blood drip into the circle, watching as the crimson drops formed a pentagram within the runic circle, a sign that the ritual had begun.
The room seemed to darken, the shadows deepening as an otherworldly chill settled over the space. Hadrian's breath came in shallow gasps as he began to chant the incantation, the words ancient and foreign, their power palpable in the air. His voice was steady, but there was a tremor in his hands that he couldn't quite suppress.
As the final word left his lips, the circle of blood began to glow, a deep, malevolent red. The light pulsed, growing brighter with each beat of Hadrian's heart, until it was almost blinding. He closed his eyes, feeling the power surge through him, tearing at the edges of his consciousness as the ritual took hold.
Memories flashed before his eyes—Vernon's face twisted in rage, the sickening thud of the metal buckle as it struck his back, the darkness of the cupboard closing in around him. Each memory was like a knife, cutting deep into his soul, but he forced himself to hold on. He couldn't afford to falter now.
The demon came then, a creature of pure malevolence, born of the darkest corners of Hadrian's mind. It was a monstrous thing, all fangs and claws, its eyes burning with an unnatural fire. Hadrian felt a surge of fear, but he pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand.
He offered the demon his darkest memory, letting it seep into the creature's being, binding it to his will. The pain was excruciating, a searing agony that threatened to consume him, but he endured. He had to.
The ritual lasted for what felt like hours, though in reality, it was only minutes. When it was over, Hadrian collapsed to the floor, his body shaking with the effort. His mind felt raw, exposed, as though every thought, every memory had been laid bare. But there was also a new presence, a guardian of his own making, standing watch over his most precious secrets.
Hadrian's eyes fluttered open, the crimson glow of the ritual still burning behind his eyelids. He felt different—stronger, more secure—but also exhausted, drained of every ounce of energy. His mind was still spinning from the ordeal, the memories of the demon and the pain it had inflicted on him still fresh and raw.
He stumbled to his feet, legs trembling as he made his way to the bathroom. The cold water from the shower was a welcome relief, washing away the sweat and blood, but it did little to ease the exhaustion that weighed down on him like a leaden blanket.
He barely managed to dry himself off before collapsing onto his bed, his mind still racing with thoughts of the trial, the demon, and the dark power that now resided within him.
Sleep came fitfully, plagued by nightmares of the ritual and the demon that now guarded his mind. But when morning came, Hadrian woke with a renewed sense of purpose. His body ached, his head throbbed with the aftereffects of the dark magic he had wielded, but he was ready. He would face whatever came next with the same determination that had seen him through the ritual.
The castle felt different now, its familiar halls and corridors tinged with an undercurrent of fear and suspicion. As he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, Hadrian could feel the eyes of his fellow students on him, their whispers following him like a shadow. They knew something was wrong, but they didn't know what. Not yet.
Daphne was waiting for him at the Slytherin table, her icy blue eyes sharp and assessing as she took in his haggard appearance. "Hadrian, you look like hell," she said, her voice low and concerned.
"I'm fine," Hadrian replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just didn't sleep well, that's all."Daphne didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the issue. Instead, she moved closer to him, her hand brushing against his under the table, a small gesture of support that made his heart skip a beat.
Throughout breakfast, Hadrian could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken questions that hung between him and his friends. Theo, Blaise, and Draco all exchanged worried glances, but none of them said anything. They knew better than to push him when he wasn't ready to talk.But as they made their way to their first class of the day, Daphne sidled up to Hadrian, her shoulder brushing against his as they walked. "You know you can talk to me, right?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Hadrian nodded, though he wasn't sure if he could. The weight of the ritual, the trial, and the dark magic that now coursed through him was almost too much to bear. But he appreciated her concern, the way she always seemed to know when he needed someone to lean on.
Classes passed in a blur, the usual lessons on charms and potions barely registering in Hadrian's mind. He went through the motions, answering questions when called upon, but his thoughts were elsewhere, consumed by the looming trial and the preparations he still needed to make.
Lunch was a welcome break, a chance to sit with his friends and relax, even if only for a short while. They gathered at the Slytherin table, the usual banter and teasing flowing easily between them.
Theo leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his lips as he recounted a particularly humiliating encounter with Snape during Potions. "And then he said, 'Mr. Nott, if your cauldron explodes one more time, I will personally see to it that you spend the rest of the term scrubbing the floors of the Potions classroom.' I swear, I could see the veins in his forehead pulsing."
Blaise chuckled, shaking his head. "You really do have a talent for getting under Snape's skin, Theo."Draco, who had been silent for most of the meal, finally spoke up. "Hadrian, are you sure you're okay? You seem... distracted."
Hadrian forced another smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "I'm fine, Draco. Just a lot on my mind, that's all."
The others exchanged uneasy glances, but before they could press him further, Hadrian pushed back from the table. "I need to go. There's something I need to take care of before the trial."
Daphne's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could leave. "Hadrian, wait. You don't have to do this alone. We can help."
Hadrian looked down at her hand, the warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the cold dread that had settled in his chest. "I know, Daphne. But this is something I need to do on my own."Her grip tightened for a moment before she let go, her expression one of frustration and concern. "Just... be careful, okay?"
Hadrian nodded, his throat tight with unspoken emotion. He didn't trust himself to say anything more, so he simply turned and walked away, the weight of the upcoming trial pressing down on him like a physical force.
The rest of the day passed in a haze of preparation and practice. Hadrian spent hours honing his Occlumency skills, reinforcing the mental barriers he had built, laying traps and diversions in his mind to protect his most vulnerable memories. He knew it wasn't enough—not yet—but he was running out of time.
As evening fell, Hadrian returned to his dormitory, his body and mind exhausted from the day's efforts. He barely noticed the others as he made his way to his bed, collapsing onto the mattress with a weary sigh. The trial was only two days away, and the thought of facing the Wizengamot with his mind still so vulnerable filled him with a sense of dread that was almost overwhelming.But there was no turning back now. He had made his choices, and he would see them through to the end, no matter the cost.
The day of the trial-
Hadrian woke up in the morning and decided to take a shower to get himself fresh, it was the day of the trial and he had to look innocent.
As he dressed in fresh robes, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale, but there was a new hardness in his gaze, a steely resolve that hadn't been there before.
He made his way to the Great Hall, his steps steady despite the fatigue that weighed him down. He needed to send a letter to Sirius, to let him know about the trial. The letter was brief, detailing the time and place, and he tied it to the leg of a school owl, watching as it flew off into the distance.
Hadrian was about to leave when he was confronted by Daphne and his friends. Their expressions were a mix of concern and frustration."Hadrian, what's going on?" Daphne demanded, her eyes narrowing as she searched his face for answers.
Hadrian forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Just tired, that's all. The trial is today, and I've been preparing."Daphne wasn't convinced. She stepped closer, her hand brushing against his arm. "You don't look fine. I thought it was the stress that made you miserable yesterday, but now I think it's something else. What's really going on?"
He hesitated, not wanting to burden them with the truth. But he could see the worry in their eyes, especially in Daphne's. She was biting her lower lip, a sign of her anxiety. "I'll be okay," he reassured them, his voice soft. "I just need some time alone to gather my thoughts."
Tonks frowned, her playful demeanor gone. "You sure? We're here if you need us.""I know," Hadrian replied, his voice firm. "But I need to handle this on my own."
Reluctantly, they nodded, though Daphne's hand lingered on his arm for a moment longer. She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. "We're not letting you face this alone, Hadrian."He smiled at her, appreciating the support even as he felt the weight of the upcoming trial bearing down on him. "Thank you."
As he turned to leave, Draco approached him, his usual smirk absent. "A word, Potter."Hadrian nodded and followed Draco out of the Great Hall. The two walked in silence for a while before Draco spoke.
"You need to be careful at the trial," Draco said, his voice low. "The Wizengamot... they're not going to play fair. You need to stay calm, no matter what they throw at you."
Hadrian glanced at Draco, noticing the tension in his posture. Draco's hands were clenched into fists, his jaw set in a hard line. "I know. I've been preparing.""Good," Draco replied, though his tone was still tense. "Just... don't let them see you sweat. You've got allies, but there are plenty who'd like to see you fail."
Hadrian nodded, appreciating the advice. "Thanks, Draco."
Draco didn't respond immediately, his gaze distant. "Just remember, Potter. You're not alone in this."
The breakfast in the Great Hall was suddenly interrupted as two hooded men entered and spoke in a deep, clear voice, "We are here to summon Hadrian Potter for today's trial."
Hadrian walked up, he could feel every eye on him as he smirked and stood up, and then slowly walked towards the men. He felt their hands on him as they led him out of the hall.
Meanwhile, there was a quite and heated argument going on the teacher's table. McGonagall was whispering, "This is an outrage and a disgrace Albus," Dumbledore and the others looked towards the deputy headmistress as she continued whispering "Everybody over here knows who those two men were, The Magus only escort class A dark wizards, the last person they escorted was Antonin Dolohov. They don't carry children to the Wizengamot!"