Chapter 2
The room – a kitchen, now that Hadrian could look around – had more people in it than he’d expected. He refused to let that deter him, back straightening unconsciously. Regardless, his eyes instantly found who he was looking for, the bright magenta robes decorated with blue fairy’s sticking out like a sore thumb.
“Harry, my boy, –”
“I’m not your boy, Headmaster Dumbledore. Though perhaps calling me such allows you to justify why you’ve been dictating how I live outside of attending your school. Why you have, apparently, been having people follow me without my knowing.”
The entire Order was silent as the oldest wizard among them sighed, as if disappointed. That only made Hadrian angrier, especially when he noticed that the Headmaster wasn’t even looking at him. “Harry, I understand that you are upset –” he scoffed at the understatement “ – but perhaps, we may talk about this later? I’m sure your friends are quite worried about you.”
“Right. My friends. Who have apparently been living in the Headquarters of an organisation I didn’t even know existed and forbidden from contacting me.”
“It was for your own safety, my boy.”
“Safety? What on earth could you possibly be keeping me safe from?” Hadrian was never safe in the Wizarding World. That was something he’d realised during his first year at Hogwarts, when the teachers refused to help him and he’d almost gotten killed as a result.
The old wizard sighed, and slumped into his seat slightly. He seemed to age in front of Hadrian, looking every bit of the wizard that had lived through two wizarding wars. “Alas, I wish this was something I could have told you under different circumstances.”
Ya, you and me both, Hadrian thought sarcastically. Dumbledore wouldn’t tell him shit unless it benefited him.
“ Albus ,” Mrs. Weasley gasped, drawing his attention to those around them. “He’s just a boy!”
“He has every right to know!” A very familiar voice suddenly barked. His head snapped around and he spotted his godfather, reclining against the wall with his arms crossed, Lupin stood next to him. “I’ve been telling you from the start that he should know! He’s going to find out anyway!”
“ Sirius,” Lupin sighed.
“Tell me what?” Hadrian asked his godfather, not giving anyone the chance to shut this down.
“Just over a month ago –”
“ SIRIUS!”
“Remus.”
“It’s alright, Remus.” Dumbledore interrupted. “Sirius may tell him.”
Hadrian relaxed slightly, turning eager eyes towards his godfather. “Just over a month ago,” he repeated, “when you were taken, we believe that those who took you were working under the orders of Him.”
“Voldemort?” Hadrian asked, ignoring the winces around the room.
“Exactly. Whatever ritual they performed must have been important. Perhaps, important enough to bring Him back.”
Hadrian sucked in a breath, a flash of panic running through him. Only, “how do you know this?”
“Severus?” Lupin asked, drawing Hadrian's attention towards his Head of House.
The potions professor scowled harsher than Hadrian had ever witnessed, but turned over his left arm and drew up the sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. A fully formed Dark Mark.
“So, you decided leaving me in the dark and with muggles was the best course of action against an insane megalomaniac?”
“Harry, that's enough,” Lupin scolded. Hadrian just rolled his eyes.
“It was decided that the continuation of your mothers protection was more imperative now, then ever, my boy. Even so, I could not bring myself to leave you fully unarmed against an attack, however unlikely, and have had the Order of the Phoenix watching over you.”
“Unlikely?”
“Of course, my boy. The only people who know the location of your Aunt's home are in this very house. And with nothing to use to track you, I thought you would be safe.”
“Then why did you forbid my friends from writing to me?”
“Ah, yes. While you and your friends may have been safe, that does not mean that someone determined enough could not have found you and, upon being unable to access you, resort to intercepting your mail.”
Hadrian briefly wondered if Dumbledore had anything to do with Theo not writing to him but dismissed it. If the Headmaster had tried to forbid Theo, his friend would have done it just to spite the man. Which means there was another reason his best friend had been silent, and that was worrying Hadrian to no end.
“Now, my boy, if you have no other questions, I do believe we were in the middle of something.”
“Can’t I listen in?”
“ Absolutely not!” Mrs Weasley declared, bustling over. She tried to reach for him, but Hadrian inched subtlety away. “We’ve told you more than enough as is. Upstairs now, with the others. I’m sure you still have some school assignments to catch up on, hmm?”
He spared a pleading glance over to Sirius, only for his godfather to wink at him. Feeling a bit more relaxed, he turned on his heel and marched out the room, almost getting whacked in the face by an ear attached to a piece of string. His hand darted out to grab it, quick as a seeker, and he followed the thread with his eyes, to see Weasley, Hermione, Fred, George, and She Weasley peering down at him.
He let go of the thread and climbed the stairs, joining them. He raised a brow at George, who raised a finger in the universal command to be silent.
“Really, Albus, telling the boy?”
“The boy was going to find out anyway,” a voice Hadrian didn’t recognize replied. He clenched his jaw at everyone referring to him as ‘boy’, being reminded of Vernon.
“We’re not telling Harry more than he needs to know ,” said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words. Hadrian scowled, wondering when the woman had become his mother.
“Don’t really think that's up to you, Molly,” his godfather retorted. “He has more right than most to —”
“He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and —”
“— and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some —”
“No one’s denying what he’s done!” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, “But he’s still —”
“He’s not a child!” said Sirius impatiently.
“He’s not an adult either!” said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s not James, Sirius!”
“I’m perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly,” said Sirius coldly.
“I’m not sure you are!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it’s as though you think you’ve got your best friend back!”
“That's enough, Molly!” Lupin snapped, coming to Sirius’s defence. “You have no idea what Harry’s gone through. None of us do! He doesn’t trust any of us enough to tell us and if he thinks we’re hiding things he’s never going to come to us!”
“That's besides the point!”
“Is it? And here I thought you actually cared about him!” Sirius exclaimed.
“ SIRIUS BLACK -”
“That's enough,” Dumbledore finally cut in. “We will tell Harry what he needs to know, however, we must be cautious of who Harry does trust.” Hadrian bristoled at the slight against Theo.
“This conversation’s no longer private,” Moody muttered, before the sound of TV static blasted through the ear. Everyone around him sighed in disappointment, and Hadrian figured Mad-Eye must have re-erected the wards that Hadrian had unintentionally broken through earlier.
“Well,” Fred drawled, his eyebrows raised. “That was certainly entertaining.”
“Though we expect nothing less from our Harrykins,” George teased, drawing the ear back up before any of the adults could confiscate it.
“More like stupid,” Hermione added, rounding on him. “Do you have any idea how badly that could have gone, storming into an Order meeting? You’re lucky a silencing ward was the only protection they had!”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Ya, common Hermione,” Fred said.
“Give the man a break.”
“Like you two are any better,” Ginevra says. “I’m just waiting for mum to find out you’ve made more of those things. She’s going to have a fit.”
“What's wrong with their inventions?” Hadrian asks, feeling defensive. He was, after all, the one that was funding them.
“They’re bloody brilliant, they are,” Ron muttered quietly enough that the twins couldn’t hear him. “Mum wants them to get a sensible job in the Ministry like Dad. Thinks they’re wasting their time and need to grow up.”
“That's ridiculous.”
“Why thank you Harrykins!”
“We knew there was a reason we liked you!”
“Oh shuddup,” Hadrian laughed, as the group started to guide him away from the bannister, himself bracketed in by the twins. He smiled slightly when he noticed that they were stopping the other three from getting close enough to touch him, using themselves as human shields.
They ended up in a sitting room that looked to have been gutted, the shelves and walls strangely barren, leaving the peeling wallpaper and worn down wood on full display. The only thing left was a pair of old couches that looked to have been chewed on by Ripper, placed atop a fraying rug with questionable stains.
“It’s one of the only rooms we’re allowed in,” George muttered to him. “Mums got locks on practically everything.”
“Why?”
“Scared we’ll get ourselves killed, of course. Practically everything in this house is cursed in one way or another and rather than waste time trying to sort through it, mum's having all of us throw it out.”
“Keeps us too busy to spy on the Order, in her mind.”
“You know,” Hadrian said, dropping onto the couch by the twins, “nobody has actually told me what this Order is.”
“It's a secret society,” Hermione explained. “Dumbledore’s in charge, he founded it. It’s the people who fought against You-KnowWho last time.”
“Who’s in it?”
“We’ve only met about twenty of them,” Fred said.
“But we’re sure there are more, with the way they talk.”
“There's the lot that got you –”
“ – Sirius, Snape –”
“ – Our parents, Bill and Fleur.”
“And what are all these people doing?”
“Well, we don’t know much,” Hermione said. “We’re not exactly allowed in the meetings. But we got a good bit of use out of those ears before Mrs Weasley caught on.”
“Best things we’ve ever made,” George sighed. “Till mum started binning them all, of course.”
“We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters,” Ron added. “Keeping tabs on them.”
“— some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order —” said Hermione.
“And some are guarding something.” Ginerva finished. “We just can’t work out what.”
Hadrian hummed, taking it all in. The most obvious answer was himself, but there was no denying that something was still being hidden from them.
“So is it true then?” Ron asked.
“Is what true?”
“That you saw Him! That's what all this is about, ain't it? You saw You-Know-Who come back.”
Hadrian snorted, “Did I? Thanks for letting me know.” Ron glared in response. “No. No, I didn't see Him come back. I didn’t even know Dumbledore thought he was back until I was brought here.”
“Oh,” Ron sighed. The group of them fell into an almost awkward silence, until Ginerva excused herself, Ron and Hermione quickly following. The twins traded a look between them and shifted to sit across from him like a pair of worried parents, throwing an Imperturbable Charm at the door.
“Alright, come on,”
“Tell your big brothers what's wrong.”
Hadrian laughed without humour, flopping sideways onto the couch.
“He touched me.”
Almost everyone he knew, knew that he didn’t like to be touched. Whether because he told them, or they were observant enough to notice how he dodged almost every attempt to touch him. The twins, however, were the only two who knew why he was so averse to touch.
“Who?” George demanded, looking livid.
“Voldemort.”
The twins flinched at his unexpected answer, trading wide eyed looks.
“And it –” Hadrian cursed the way his voice broke, blinking rapidly. “ – it didn’t hurt.”
“Oh Hades,” Fred sighed, his fists clenching. Hadrian would bet his Gringotts vault that he wanted nothing more than to wrap Hadrian in a hug.
“I can still feel it,” Hadrian confessed in a whisper. “And I – I want more.” He tried to muffle the sob in his gloved hand, the feeling of leather cold on his skin. “I just, I don’t want to be a freak anymore.”
“ Hades,” one or both of the twins breathed. He felt a pair of hands pulling him upright before the couch dipped on either side of him, the twins doing their best to comfort him without touching his skin.
His eyes were sore and dry when he finally peeled them opened again, and his nose felt stuffy. He figures he must have passed out at some point, as this definitely wasn’t the same room. The bed he’s on is old but undeniably soft, and he can feel the tiredness that permanently clings to him trying to drag him back under. He shakes it off, pulling himself upright and notices that it's dark outside, the room illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. This must be the twins room, he notes, taking stock of the stack of forms and boxes of strange items. He notices an ear sticking out of one and just stares at it for a moment, his mind too tired to be properly horrified at the sight.
A snore snaps him out of it, and he glances down to see the two terrors asleep on the floor. He feels bad for kicking them out of their own bed, but squashes the feeling. It’s not like he had much of a say in the matter, he reasons. He stands carefully, making sure not to knock into anything. There are surely worse things in here to bump into than the twins themselves, but years of sneaking around takes any challenge out of it.
It takes him a few minutes of aimless wandering to stumble across a bathroom and he winces at the sight of his red eyes in the mirror, before tearing off his gloves and splashing water on his face. He quickly jumps in the shower, not bothering to put his jacket and gloves back on, and feeling a bit better now.
He can’t believe he just confessed that to the Twins, no matter how much he trusted them.
He doesn’t spend to long berating himself, and instead exits the bathroom. The halls of the townhouse - which he still doesn’t know who owns - are more eerie at night then they appear in the light. The shadows overtaking the peeling wallpaper, making the walls look almost alive as the shadows trick your eyes into seeing movement where there is nothing. The too still portraits seem to watch him intently, though he could have sworn none of them were moving just hours earlier. Even the carpeted floors seem to be messing with him; he could have sworn something was slithering along them.
Eventually he found the stairs. Apparently, the twins were bunking on the third floor, just above where Ron’s room was. Absently, he wondered where the girls were staying.
A flash of white made him jump (thankfully not down the stairs) and Hedwig lands next to him on the bannister. He sighs, heart beating way too fast. “You scared me, girl.” He mutters, carefully stroking her. She nips at his fingers affectionately before hopping onto his arm and up to his shoulder.
He makes his way down the stairs, wincing every time they creak, until he’s back on the main floor. He found the kitchen easily enough, flicking his hand in a wandless Lumos, and it was actually quite big now that it wasn’t full of people, though it was just as gloomy as the rest of the house. At least it wasn’t covered in that awful wallpaper, he thought, taking in the rough stone walls.
Hedwig hopped from his shoulder and onto the large wooden table that stood in the centre of the room, crammed with chairs. It probably would have been more effective to just get two benches at this rate, but he ignored it in favour of raiding the pantry for something to eat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, having been locked in his room on the verge of unconsciousness by his uncle before they’d gone out.
“Whats be the blood traitor looking for at this hour?” A voice croaked behind him. Hadrian turned, startled, before his eyes landed on a house-elf. It looked very old, with the way its skin hung from its figure, and though all house-elves were bald it had a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, bat-like ears. Its watery grey eyes were bloodshot and staring at him rather suspiciously, and didn’t seem all that eager to help - very unlike the other house-elves Hadrian had met.
“I’m not a blood traitor,” Hadrian muttered without thinking. “And why are you questioning me?”
“Kreacher be doing his job and asking if blood traitor Heir Black bes wanting anything,” the elf huffed.
Hadrian scowled at the elf, his magic flaring slightly. “Well then, Kreacher. I want a lot of things, the foremost being for you to address me properly. If you’re the best House Black has to offer then clearly House Black has fallen far.”
The elf gaped at him wordlessly for a moment, before straightening, a giddyness falling over the elf that reminded him faintly of Dobby as he muttered to himself, “Oh yes, Heir Black being just like master Regulus, oh yes. Heir Black be restoring the Black name he is.”
Hadrian ignored the old elf and grabbed a tub of leftover scones that had been put aside, before trying to find the kettle. He could really do with a warm drink right now, as he sounded as hoarse as Kreacher. However, before he could set to locating the cups, the cupboard door flew open and a mug floated over, Kreacher suddenly appearing before him.
“Heir Black be sitting down and letting Kreacher be taking care of him, oh yes he is!” The elf huffed, a chair scraping out behind him. Bemused, and still half asleep, Hadrian allowed the elf to boss him around until a plate of hot scones with clotted cream and jam was placed in front of him, along with a steaming cup of tea.
He was a bit put out when the elf disappeared with a near silent pop, halfway through a muttered sentence that Hadrian really wasn’t listening too as he ate, only for the kitchen door to swing open a few seconds later.
“Harry?”
Mouth full, Hadrian waved awkwardly to his dishevelled godfather. The older man chuckled, shaking his head in the same way he did whenever Hadrian had done something that reminded him of James. He felt a pang in his chest at the thought, Mrs Weasley's comment from earlier ringing through his head.
“Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it’s as though you think you’ve got your best friend back!”
“What are you doing up, pup?”
Hadrian shrugged, “I was hungry.”
“Well, skipping dinner will do that to you,” Sirius said pointedly, pulling out the chair next to him. He raised an arm towards Hadrian and he flinched away, avoiding the touch. A flash of pain crossed his godfather's face before it was swiftly hidden behind a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Hadrian shrugged again, not really knowing what to say. Him and Sirius had an odd relationship for godfather and godson, both of them never really being left alone together long enough to form a stable relationship. But Sirius was trying, Hadrian reminded himself. And it wasn’t his godfather's fault that he’d been wrongfully imprisoned, leaving Hadrian all alone. Then why didn’t he try to escape sooner? He didn’t leave for you, he left for Pettigrew. For himself.
“Alright, common then. What do you want to know?”
Hadrian’s head whipped round from where he’d been staring at his tea. “You’ll tell me?”
Sirius shrugged. “Course. You’re my kid. Besides, better you get the facts from us then… other sources.”
“Right.” Hadrian nodded, “and you’re not worried about who I trust ?”
“Ah. Heard that, did you?”
Hadrian didn’t reply, just raising a brow. His godfather sighed, looking far older than he was as he turned to face Hadrian fully.
“I’ll admit, I don’t trust your friends one bit –”
“ – Because they’re Slytherins?” Hadrian snorted bitterly.
“ However,” Sirius continued, “you trust them. And that's got to mean something, because you don’t trust easy kiddo. I can see it in your eyes.” Sirius looked far to knowing and it made Hadrian's insides twist in discomfort, wanting him to hide. His godfather grinned suddenly, “besides, if they really can’t be trusted, they probably know a hell of a lot more than we do.”
Hadrian laughed slightly. “Well, in that case, you can start by telling me where we are. And whose bloody house is this? I keep walking around a corner expecting to see Rosier , of all people.”
Sirius barked out a laugh, apparently having been taken off guard. “It’s mine, actually. This here is one of the many homes belonging to the House of Black. And you’re not wrong with comparing it to Rosier’s, Druella practically redecorated the entire place after she married my Uncle.”
Hadrian’s nose curled, showing exactly what he thought of the decor. Sirius nodded in agreement, “at least you didn’t grow up with it.”
Hadrian blinked. “You grew up here?”
“Sure did. Ran away when I was about your age, finally having enough.”
“Where did you go?”
“Your dad’s place,” said Sirius. “Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out at your dad’s during the school holidays, and then when I was seventeen I got a place of my own, my Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold, and after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s for Sunday lunch, though.”
“But . . . why did you . . . ?”
“Leave?” Sirius smiled bitterly and ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair. “Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal . . . my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them . . .”
“You have a brother?”
“I did. He was younger than me, and a much better son as my mother was constantly reminding me. Reminds me a bit of you, actually.”
“His name wouldn’t happen to be Regulus, would it?”
Sirius blinked, taken off guard once more. “Ya, ya it was. How did you…”
“The ugh, the house elf was muttering about him.”
“Ah,” Sirius grimaced. “Met Kreacher then, have you?”
“Ya, he’s certainly interesting .”
Sirius laughed. “He’s barmy, you mean. The little pest has never liked me and he’s practically murderous now that I’m besmirching the name of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black by inviting blood traitors and mudbloods into such sacred halls. Too long alone taking orders from a portrait certainly haven’t helped,” Sirius sighed. “But this isn’t really what you want to talk about, is it?”
“What's the Order been guarding?”
“How in the bloody hell do you know about that?”
Hadrian shrugs, waving his hand and banishing his now empty mug to the sink. “Ginerva mentioned it.”
“There's something that He’s after – something I can’t tell you about because I don’t know myself –” Sirius says, anticipating his next question. “All I know is that it’s in the Ministry, and he didn’t have it last time. But whatever it is has Dumbledore on high alert.”
“And you think it has to do with me?”
Sirius shakes his head, running a hand through his mane of untamed curls. “You, Mister, are too perceptive for your own good. But yes, I think it has something to do with you.”
Hadrian frowns, a yawn cutting off his next question. He sees Sirius cast a tempus, revealing it to be ass’o’clock in the morning.
“Alright you, off to bed,” Sirius orders. He stands, dramatically sweeping his arms towards the door in a mocking bow, but thankfully doesn’t attempt to touch him again. “Molly’s probably going to rope you into scrubbing this place, but if you come find me I can get you out of it.”
“I might just take you up on that.” Hadrian mutters, making his way out the kitchen with Sirius on his heels. It doesn’t occur to him until he’s halfway up the stairs that he has no idea where he’s supposed to be sleeping.
“Um, where…”
Sirius snorts quietly from behind him. “You’re supposed to be with Ron.”
Hadrian wrinkles his nose, just seeing how badly that would go. Him and Ron can get along fine with others to temper them, but he really doesn’t want to spend more time with the redhead than he has to.
“Not a fan?”
“Let’s just say me and Ron don’t exactly see eye to eye.”
Sirius hums as they stop at the redheads door, tilting his head as he considers something. “Follow me, pup,” his godfather requests, leading him back towards the stairs. With no other option, Hadrian does so, walking in silence as Sirius takes him up to the fourth (and final) floor of the townhouse.
There's only a few rooms on this floor, and Hadrian follows Sirius to the one at the far end of the left hand hall. The door looks to be in better shape than some of the others he’s seen, but there are three letters carved into the wood.
“R.A.B.?”
“Regulus Arcturus Black.” Sirius answers, tracing the letters as he speaks. He clears his throat slightly, turning towards Hadrian.
“You can sleep in here from now on. Only those with Black blood can access the fourth floor, and anyone else needs permission, so you can always get away if you need to. If Kreacher tries anything just let me know and I’ll deal with it.”
“Thanks, Sirius.”
Sirius beams at him, looking like he desperately wants to give him a hug. “No problem, Kiddo. Get some sleep, alright.”
Hadrian watches as Sirius heads back down the hall and disappears round the corner on the other side of the landing, probably to where his own room is located. He wonders if Remus has access to this floor, but figures he can ask tomorrow, as he pushes open the door.
The room looks lived in, is Hadrian's first thought. Like Regulus had just stepped out for a moment and was planning on coming back at any second. It’s too dark out to really make out any of the more personalised touches - like the quidditch posters and the photographs decorating one of the walls, or what the papers strewn messily across the wooden desk are. However, it's clear that the room is styled after the more Slytherin decor that the rest of the house is decorated with, though thankfully not as gaudy and ornate. He doesn’t bother to take much of it in, and instead collapses on the comfiest bed he’s ever had the pleasure of laying on.