Chapter 1
Apparently, Hadrian had been cursed at some point in his life. He wasn’t sure who to blame for this particular curse, whether it be Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore, Fate, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, or bloody Merlin himself, but when he found whoever the fuck had done it there would be Hell to pay.
He just wanted one night, just one, of uninterrupted sleep. Was that so much to ask? Obviously it was, if the group of wixen at his bedroom door were to go by.
“Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone’s eye out,” said a low, growling voice.
Hadrian blinked tiredly, angling his wand down slightly. He knew that voice. “Mad-Eye Moody?”
“Aye, Boy. Now get down here, we want to see you properly.”
“And who’s we .” Hadrian snapped, wand hand twitching. Why the fuck was a Professor (who apparently wasn’t even a professor in the first place, if Hadrian’s memories are correct) standing in his bedroom door? He’s never even had a conversation with the wizard!
“It’s all right, Harry. We’ve come to take you away.”
Was that, “Professor Lupin?” Were all of his defence professors just breaking and entering? He hadn’t spoken to Lupin since he up and vanished at the end of Hadrian’s third year. Honestly, if he didn’t know better, he’d think Lupin was the godfather on the run.
“Harry.”
“Why are we all standing in the dark?” asked a woman with an unfamiliar voice. “ Lumos .”
The flare of the wand has him instinctively throwing up a shield with his free hand, the threat of the Trace at the forefront of his mind. The bright light reflects off of it, illuminating the soft blue of his shield and finally revealing the faces of those in front of him.
The one he first identified as Mad-Eye is looking curiously, a hint of approval in his one good eye. Catching his gaze the older man nods, “Good reflexes.”
“Thanks.” He mutters, turning his attention to the unknowns. The people below him were all crowded together around the foot of the stairs, gazing intently up at him. Lupin stood just behind Mad-Eye, looking rather tired and rather ill; he had more grey hairs then Hadrian remembered, and his patched robes seemed to hang off of his lean frame more than usual. Nevertheless, he smiled broadly at Harry (who still hadn’t lowered his wand).
“Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would,” said the witch who was holding her lit wand aloft. She seemed younger than the others, with an air of vibrancy that clung to her oddly familiar dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet. “Wotcher, Harry!”
Before he could demand who she was reply, a bald black wizard standing further back spoke. “Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus,” he had a deep, slow voice and wore a single gold hoop in his ear. “He looks exactly like James.”
“Except the eyes,” said a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired wizard at the back. “Lily’s eyes.”
“Now that you're done gawping,” Hadrian snapped. “You can explain why you’re here.”
Lupin moved as if to reply, those behind him looking contrite, only for Mad-Eye to interrupt. “Are you quite sure it’s him, Lupin?” he growled. “It’d be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?”
Bring back? Why did he need a fireteam of wixen to retrieve one teenager? They couldn’t be that incompetent, could they?
“Harry, what form does your Patronus take?” said Lupin.
Hadrian debated lying, just to see what they would do. Instead, he snorted. “I’m pretty sure the Death Eaters know that. I told you once I wanted it to be a stag, after my dad.”
“That’s him, Mad-Eye,” said Lupin, giving him a fond smile.
Hadrian hummed, cocking a brow when nobody moved. “Sooo,” he drawled trying to impersonate Malfoy (he was actually quite good at it.) “Where are we going?”
“Headquarters,” Mad-Eye answered before turning towards the other wixen. He made some gesture that had them disappearing into other parts of the house, and Hadrian had a fleeting thought about what the Dursleys would do if they discovered a bunch of ‘Freaks’ in their home. Actually, now that he thought about it, this was way too organised to be a last minute thing. Four weeks of nothing and suddenly a bunch of wix were standing matter-of-factly in the house on the one night the Dursleys aren’t in as though this were some long-standing arrangement.
“Gather your things, Harry,” Lupin smiled. “We leave as soon as we get the all clear.”
“I can help!” The woman with violet hair piped up, suddenly appearing next to Remus.
“Harry, this is Nymphadora —”
“Don’t call me Nymphadora, Remus,” said the young witch with a shudder. “It’s Tonks.”
“— Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only,” finished Lupin.
“So would you if your fool of a mother had called you ‘Nymphadora,’ ” muttered Tonks.
“Right. Most of my stuff is under the stairs, I can grab the rest on my own.” Hadrian didn’t give them a chance to reply, disappearing back into his room and closing the door behind him. He lowered the shield as the door clicked shut and slid the only lock on the inside of the door closed. It wouldn’t keep them out, but hopefully it would get the point across.
He slipped off his pyjamas (and had a brief moment of sheer panic when he realised everyone had seen him shirtless and without his glamour. Thank Merlin he hadn’t turned around.) before grabbing a pair of black jeans and a matching tee. He then slipped on his black gloves and favourite jacket - both of which were lined with protection runes. He strapped his wand into his wrist holster before tearing up the odd loose floorboards and shoving everything into his magically expanded book bag (a gift from Theo). He didn’t bother trying to tame his hair, and instead just slipped on his boots and grabbed his broom before heading out the door.
Lupin and Tonks had vanished downstairs at some point to join the rest of this fireteam. He found everyone gathered in the living room, the talking abruptly cutting off when he entered. Hadrian blinked when he noticed Mad-Eye's eye was sitting in a glass of water, but decided not to ask.
“Is that a Firebolt?” Tonks gasped, her eyes widening as they fell on the broomstick in Hadrian's hand. It was the only thing his godfather had been able to buy him, and by far one of Hadrian's most precious items. “I’m still riding a Comet Two Sixty,”
“It was…” Hadrian trailed off, his eyes narrowing on her hair. He could have sworn it had been violet. Seeing his look, Tonks grinned. “I’m a Metamorphmagus. It means I can change my appearance at will,” she added, spotting Hadrian’s puzzled expression. “I was born one. I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise during Auror training without any study at all, it was great.”
That was handy. “Can you learn how to be a Metamorphmagus?” He asked, mind racing with the possibilities.
“Bet you wouldn’t mind hiding that scar sometimes, eh?” Her eyes found the lightning-shaped scar on Hadrian’s forehead. He scowled slightly, flattening his hair reflexively. “Something like that.”
“Metamorphmagi are really rare, they’re born, not made. Most wizards need to use a wand or potions to change their appearance. . . .” She trailed off as the man next to her cleared his throat, and Hadrian recognized him as the one who compared him to his dad.
“Do you have everything?” Hadrian nodded, tensing slightly as the man looked him over once more.
Lupin, thankfully seeing Hadrian's discomfort, stepped forward slightly. “I suppose I should introduce everyone. his is Kingsley Shacklebolt'' – he indicated the tall black wizard, who bowed – “Elphias Doge'' – the wheezy-voiced wizard nodded – “Dedalus Diggle –” “We’ve met before,” squeaked the excitable Diggle, dropping his top hat. “– Emmeline Vance'' – a stately looking witch in an emerald green shawl inclined her head – “Sturgis Podmore” – a square-jawed wizard with thick, straw-coloured hair winked – “and Hestia Jones.” A pink-cheeked, black-haired witch waved.
A sudden pop saved Hadrian from the sudden feeling of being shoved onto stage, and instead drew the attention to Mad-Eye – who had finally replaced his eye. It spun rapidly for a moment before coming to a stop on Hadrian, and Mad-Eye’s brows raised in surprise. It was strange seeing that look directed at him once more, knowing exactly what the other was already thinking.
Surprisingly - or maybe not - the man didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he rose to his feet and headed towards the kitchen, muttering something about three minutes.
“Well, we should probably get into the garden then,” said Lupin. “Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —”
“They won’t,” said Hadrian.
“That you’re safe —”
“That’ll just depress them.”
“— and you’ll see them next summer.”
“Do I have to?” Lupin smiled but made no answer. Hadrian tensed as the man's hand landed on his shoulder, directing him towards the back door. Mad-Eye was already waiting with his wand out, looking comically out of place in the small garden.
“Come here, boy.”
Grateful for the excuse, Hadrian slipped out from under Lupin's hand and stopped next to the retired Auror. “You have a way to stay unnoticed woven into all those protections?” The man asked, gesturing to the invisible array that wrapped around him like a blanket.
Hadrian raised a brow, but reached up to rub the back of his neck. He sparked his magic between his fingers, activating the rune sequence that was very similar to a notice-me-not, if slightly darker in nature. Tonks whistled appreciatively from behind and the gruff man nodded slightly, “It’ll do.”
“Right then,” grunted Mad-Eye, his magical eye twirling to scan the heavens. “Could’ve done with a bit more cloud cover. No matter. Boy,” he barked at Hadrian, “we’re going to be flying in a close formation. Tonks’ll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Lupin’ll be covering you from below. I’m going to be behind you. The rest’ll be circling us. We don’t break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed —”
“Likely, is it?” Hadrian deadpanned, only for Mad Eye to ignore him.
“— the others keep flying, don’t stop, don’t break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Hadrian, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they’ll join you.”
“Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he’ll think we’re not taking this seriously,” said Tonks, as she strapped Hadrian’s trunk into a harness hanging from her broom.
“I’m just telling the boy the plan,” growled Moody. “Our job’s to deliver him safely to headquarters and if we die in the attempt —”
“No one’s going to die,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, calming voice.
“Mount your brooms, that’s the first signal!” said Lupin sharply, pointing into the sky. Far, far above them, a shower of bright red sparks had flared among the stars. Hadrian tensed on instinct, recognising them as wand sparks at once. The image of Fleur’s unconscious body flashing through his mind.
Shaking the sudden feeling of dread off, he swung his leg over the Firebolt, gripping its handle tightly. He could feel the slight vibrations through his gloves, as though it was as keen to be in the air once more as he was.
“Second signal, let’s go!” said Lupin loudly, as more sparks, green this time, exploded high above them.
Hadrian kicked off hard from the ground. The cool night air rushed through his hair as the neat square gardens of Privet Drive fell away, shrinking rapidly into a patchwork of dark greens and blacks, and every thought was swept from his mind as though the rush of air had blown it out of his head. He felt as though his heart was going to explode with pleasure; he was flying again, flying away from Privet Drive as he’d been fantasising about all summer, he was getting out. For a few glorious moments, all his problems seemed to recede into nothing, insignificant in the vast, starry sky.
“Hard left, hard left, there’s a Muggle looking up!” shouted Moody from behind him, knocking him back into reality. Tonks swerved on command and Hadrian dutifully followed, noting they were going the opposite direction from the Weasley’s Burrow.
“We need more height. . . . Give it another quarter of a mile!”
Hadrian's eyes started to water in the chill as they soared even higher; he could see nothing below but the tiny pinpricks of light. It was only luck that he caught sight of white feathers below them. A sharp whistle left his frozen lips and he caught Tonks whipping her head around to check on him, but ignored it in favour of his first friend.
His loyal companion levelled out beside him a few minutes later and he let out a laugh as she playfully rolled over him, trying to bait him into a game of chase.
“Bearing south!” shouted Mad-Eye. “Town ahead!” They soared right, so that they did not pass directly over the glittering spider web of lights below. “Bear southeast and keep climbing, there’s some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!” called Moody.
“We’re not going through clouds!” shouted Tonks angrily. “We’ll get soaked, Mad-Eye!”
Hadrian was relieved to hear her say this; his face was already numb to the wind. The only time he’d been this cold on his broom, he’d been playing Quidditch against Hufflepuff in his third year, which had taken place during a storm and surrounded by Dementers.
Hadrian quickly lost track of time, observing the wixen around him circle like giant birds of prey. He laughed whenever Hedwig flew closer to them, weaving in and out like it was a game.
“Turning southwest!” yelled Moody. “We want to avoid the motorway!”
Distantly, Hadrian wondered why they had to travel by broom. Surely it would have been safer - and quicker - to travel by Floo or apparition.
“We ought to double back for a bit, just to make sure we’re not being followed!” Moody shouted.
“ARE YOU MAD, MAD-EYE?” Tonks screamed from the front. “We’re all frozen to our brooms! If we keep going off course we’re not going to get there until next week! We’re nearly there now!”
“Time to start the descent!” came Lupin’s voice. “Follow Tonks, Harry!”
Hadrian followed Tonks into a dive. They were heading for the largest collection of lights he had yet seen, a huge, sprawling, crisscrossing mass, glittering in lines and grids, interspersed with patches of deepest black. Lower and lower they flew, until Hadrian could see individual headlights and streetlamps, chimneys, and television aerials. He wanted to reach the ground very much, though he felt sure that someone would have to unfreeze him from his broom.
“Here we go!” called Tonks, and a few seconds later she had landed.
Hadrian touched down right behind her and dismounted on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square, Hedwig landing on his shoulder. Tonks was already unbuckling Hadrian’s trunk. Shivering, Hadrian looked around. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the street lamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors, and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.
“Where are we?” Hadrian asked, but Lupin said quietly, “In a minute.”
Moody was rummaging in his cloak, his gnarled hands clumsy with cold.
“Got it,” he muttered, raising what looked like a silver cigarette lighter into the air and clicking it. The nearest streetlamp went out with a pop. He clicked the unlighter again; the next lamp went out. He kept clicking until every lamp in the square was extinguished and the only light in the square came from curtained windows and the sickle moon overhead.
“Borrowed it from Dumbledore,” growled Moody, pocketing the Put-Outer. “That’ll take care of any Muggles looking out of the window, see? Now, come on, quick.”
He took Hadrian by the arm and led him from the patch of grass, across the road, and onto the pavement. Lupin and Tonks followed, carrying Hadrian’s trunk between them, the rest of the guard, all with their wands out, flanking them.
The muffled pounding of a stereo was coming from an upper window in the nearest house. A pungent smell of rotting rubbish came from the pile of bulging bin-bags just inside the broken gate.
“Here,” Moody muttered, thrusting a piece of parchment toward Hadrian’s Disillusioned hand and holding his lit wand close to it, so as to illuminate the writing. “Read quickly and memorise.”
Hadrian looked down at the piece of paper. The narrow handwriting was vaguely familiar. It said:
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
“What's the Order of the Phoenix?” Hadrian asked, glancing up in confusion. Nobody bothered to answer him as the letter in his hand suddenly burst into flame, startling him into dropping it. It was ash before it hit the ground.
Hadrian assumed Grimmauld Place, London, must be where they had landed and looked around for number twelve. They were standing outside number eleven: to the left was number ten and the right, number thirteen. He opened his mouth to point this out, only for a battered door to emerge from nowhere, right where number twelve should be. It was swiftly followed by dirty walls and grimy windows. Hadrian blinked, before shrugging. He really did love magic.
“Come on, hurry,” growled Moody, prodding Hadrian in the back.
The Order - apparently - were quick to herd him inside with the warning not to touch anything. The building smelled of damp and dust, hinting at neglect. A soft hissing had all the lamps burning to life, though it didn’t do much to brighten the dark hallway. All the walls were covered with a dark floral wallpaper that was peeling and the floor covered in a worn black carpet. What little decor decorated the hall was all old and covered in cobwebs. He wondered when someone had last lived here, and how on earth it came to be a Headquarters. If it wasn’t for the fact that the house could apparently disappear, Hadrian never would have pinged this place as being defendable.
The sound of hurried footsteps drew his attention to the Weasley matriarch emerging from a door at the far end of the hall. “Oh good,” she whispered. “You’re back. Harry, dear, so good to see you again. You’re looking a little peaky; you need feeding up, but you’ll have to wait a bit for dinner, I’m afraid. . . .” She turned to address the wixen behind him and whispered something about a meeting that had them all hurry past Hadrian in a rush to get through the door she had just come from.
Hadrian made to follow Lupin, having no idea where he was, or what was going on, but the red head stepped in his way. “No, Harry, the meeting’s only for members of the Order. Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting’s over and then we’ll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall,” she added in an urgent whisper.
“Why?”
“I don’t want to wake anything up.”
“What d’you — ?”
“I’ll explain later, I’ve got to hurry, I’m supposed to be at the meeting — I’ll just show you where you’re sleeping.” Pressing her fingers to her lips, she led him on tiptoes past a pair of long, moth-eaten curtains, behind which Hadrian supposed there must be another door, and after skirting a large umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a severed troll’s leg, they started up the dark staircase, passing a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look showed Hadrian that the heads belonged to house-elves. All of them had the same rather snout like nose. Hadrian’s bewilderment deepened with every step he took. What on earth were all these Light wixen doing in a townhouse that looked to belong to a Dark pureblood?
“Mrs. Weasley, why — ?”
“Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear, I’ve really got to dash,” Mrs. Weasley whispered distractedly. “There” — they had reached the second landing — “you’re the door on the right. I’ll call you when it’s over.”
His lip curled behind her back as she hurried downstairs once more, but he crossed the dingy landing and turned the serpent head handle. He caught a brief glimpse of a gloomy high-ceilinged, twin-bedded room before his gaze landed on the two already in the room. “Hermione, Weasley.”
Hedwig puffed out her feathers as a tiny owl flew excitedly towards her, causing her to snap her beak in irritation. He brought up a hand to sooth her as Hermione smiled slightly and Weasley scowled, crossing his arms. He reminded Hadrian of a toddler when he made that face.
“Harry! Oh, how are you? We didn’t hear you arrive! Are you all right?”
“Hi Hermione,” he repeated, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “I’m good. A little confused about where we are though?”
Hermione, bless her, seemed to understand his unasked question and sighed. “I would have written to you but Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn’t. Oh, I have so much to tell you! Please, come in, come in! Sit down - don’t mind Ron - sit here.” She all but pushed him onto the free bed and Weasley rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.
Hadrian once thought Ron could have been a good friend, possibly his first, but an eleven year old Hadrian wasn’t exactly the best at people . It was honestly a miracle he’d made it through his first year at Hogwarts with two people to call friends, one of which who was currently beaming at him.
“Why would Dumbledore make you swear not to write to me?”
“He seemed to think it was best,”
“Right,” Hadrian nodded. Hermione's faith in authority was well known to Hadrian, unless, of course, it benefitted herself. Not that he’d ever say that to her.
“Must of thought you were safer with muggles,” Weasley muttered.
“Ya? Have you ever seen a fight between a wizard and a muggle?”
“Harry,” Hermione sighed, as Weasley flushed red. Hadrian winced, but refused to apologise. Hermione sighed again and dropped onto the bed next to Weasley, rolling her eyes at the two of them. “Besides, it’s not like Dumbledore would have relied on your relatives. That’s why the Order of the Phoenix has been tailing you all the time –” Hadrian blinked, suddenly feeling off balance.
“They what?”
Even Weasley winced at the fury in his tone. Hermione looked guilty for a moment, but Hadrian ignored it as he got to his feet, marching back out the door. “Harry, don’t do anything stupid!” Hermione called after him.
He ignored her.
He bound back down the stairs, not bothering to be quiet, and slammed opened the doorway everyone else had disappeared into. He felt the wards that one of the wixen must have erected to keep anyone from eavesdropping break, and the room fell into silence as he stood in the doorway.
“Someone,” Hadrian uttered dangerously, flaring his magic in an effort to seem more intimidating. “Better tell me what the fuck is going on.
“ Now .”