Obsidian

Hadrian hovered the lighter on the cigarette hanging between his lips, watching as the edges burn with the heat, before taking a puff.
Savoring the feeling of smoke filling up his lungs like water would a vase.

It was raining today, which wasn't really a surprise seeing as it is London, but it does give a sort of relaxing and comforting atmosphere to his apartment. It makes him want to either read a story or write one, the latter is more work, even though it gives him the freedom to dream.

Maybe it's the rain getting to him, it's almost summer here in London, the occasional thunderstorms and rains are rare but not impossible. The dampness will dry out the next day or whenever the storm will stop, that fact just makes Hadrian want to savor it much more.

He blew out the smoke from his lungs through his lips, letting it hang while he eyed the various college recommendation letters on his coffee table.
It's that time of year again, when adolescence reaches its peak and the teens are becoming adults–becoming either more responsible, or more chaotic and rebellious –and thus comes the time of choosing their next path in life.
Work or University

Some people, much like Hadrian himself, will proceed with the latter option. Though, he knows some people from his classes that would rather start working after graduation. 
Like that boy in his AP social studies class, whom he overheard was planning to take over his parent's restaurant business, which Hadrian recognizes as the burger chain located a few blocks away.

Hadrian felt a small pang in his chest, barely noticeable but noticeable enough to give him discomfort. The guy, Clay West if he remembered correctly, was born and raised so lovingly that he's willing to abandon his education for them and their passionate income making business.
While Hadrian was born and given to a relative who despised him, his parents died just when he was merely a few months old, a flash of green light accompanying his mother's scream of terror.

The only good thing that the Dursleys ever did was give him away to an orphanage when he was five, Hadrian couldn't even think what he would turn up to be if he stayed in that house any longer than he already did.
Hadrian remembered the first time he saw his adopted parent's faces. Clothes showing their high status and wealth, hair neatly done, and faces taken straight out of some fashion magazines he once saw one of the caretakers read during her 30 minute break.

Victor and Josephine Gray were a couple straight out of a fairytale or TV show. Josephine Gray, née Jordan, was a college professor before marrying into the rich after meeting Victor in one of her social gatherings. Victor falls head over heels in love with her at first sight, asking for her number the very same night.
They married after a mere two years of dating, her title given to her after it was official, making her Lady Josephine Gray nee Jordan.

The Grays are a known family of Philanthropists in London. Whether for their appearances in multiple social events and auctions, their status, or their clear display of wealth that are known all across the nation.
It was certainly a shock to hear the Heir of the Gray family marrying someone that was of middle class status. But it was overpowered by the display of Josephine's clear intelligence and expertise in politics.

Hadrian remembered them carefully walking towards him back at the orphanage, book in his hand and face deep in between the words at the time, and asked him what he was reading.
They stayed with him for a full hour, talking to him and exchanging opinions on many books and literature that he could get his hands on in the Orphanage, before leaving and promising him that they would be back with new books for him to read.
They came back a day later with five hardcover books of classics such as Little Women and Anne Green Gable, they spent hours there reading together with him as the other orphans chased each other outside screaming like wild monkeys.

He remembered taking their hands as he walked out of the orphanage, a simple and small messenger bag slung around his body containing what little stuff that Petunia let him keep, and getting into the shiny black car of the Grays.

The first question he asked was, why him? No really, why was he the one that they chose? Why didn't they choose the all social and loud Marianne or the stickler for rules like Aiden?
They replied with the moment they found out that Josephine was infertile, they had scouted other orphanages before. But nobody seems to feel any connection with any of the other great children.
Then they met him, and the moment they laid eyes on Hadrian, they knew that he was the special someone they needed in their lives.
Hadrian didn't ask further, content with the answer he was given and the warm feeling of finally having a home and a family who doesn't despise him.

Hadrian still remembered that day like it was yesterday, letting the warmth take over and overpower the earlier pang he felt, like the sun shining its light after the cold winter season and melting the snow.

The doorbell pulled him out of his thoughts, startling him back to reality. 

Realizing that his cigarette managed to burn further during his thoughts–nearly reaching the bud near his lips–he put it out on the ashtray on the coffee table next to the rec letters, and walked away to answer the door.
He opened the door to Donna, the woman at the front desk, standing there with an envelope in her manicured hand.

“Got another one for ya’, this one looks promising to pass up.” She said, waving the envelope in front of his face.
He gave her a small smile and took the envelope from her, quickly thanking her and wishing her a good day, before closing the door.

With the click of his now locked door bringing him comfort and security, he walked back over to the sofa and sat down on the soft black velvet cushion. 
The wax-sealed envelope in his hand felt slightly heavier in his hand.

The last time an envelope like this was in his hand, was the same day he discovered he's a wizard. 
He remembered when the Gray butler–Mr. Saddle, though he much prefered to be called Drew– walked into the dining room on the morning of his 11th birthday carrying a similar looking letter in his hand addressed to him.
After reading the letter, his dad ordered Petunia Dursley to be brought in and interrogated about the matter.

She begrudgingly agreed to talk–after some threats to her family income and how easy it is to take away with a single lawsuit–and Hadrian was made to sit there and listen as Petunia sourly ramble about her sister, his birth mother, and her “freakishness”. 
Gripping the fork in his hand a bit harder at every insult the horse-looking woman spouted about his birth mother. He was glad when two of the manor's security came in and dragged her away and out of the manor, never to be seen even near the property ever again.

His parents gave him that freedom and option to pursue his studies to the magic school, but Hadrian felt repulsed by the thought.
While he would've jumped at the opportunity to leave somewhere and learn something mystical like magic a few years before, he has grown to love the various forms of literature present at the Gray Manor's library, every book, every poem and the words and feelings laced in between each line and paragraphs.

His thirst for knowledge doesn't jump towards the thought of magic and wizards. No, it pulled towards the idea of a story, the academic perspective of it all, the opportunity to create something as beautiful and endearing. He often wondered if this was how the authors of the books that he read felt like back then, the need to tell a story, to write their thoughts on paper that they could not apply in real life, brought to life by the words on those pages and the feeling of great satisfaction of the world they created being cherished by others.

He craves that feeling, he craves it. He excelled at his studies and extracurricular activities, but he relished and craves the times where he could sit in the library and get lost in the made up world of authors and words.
And he knows, by choosing Hogwarts, he would not be able to satisfy that craving feeling that is constantly clawing at him.

He relayed his thoughts to his parents, who greatly supported him and whatever decision he chose. They sent a return letter that night, politely denying the chance at the school and explaining why in a brief and subtle wording. They intentionally leave out the return address so no more letters will be sent, leaving any possibility of the school staff to visit them to try and convince them to change their mind.

He sighed a breath of relief once he saw the letter on the seal, not an “H”, not from Hogwarts, who he thought had sent a letter to make him reconsider his choices again.
But instead, a single “A” in cursive font is imprinted on the wax seal.

He grabbed the stiletto dagger his grandfather gifted him for his 19th birthday, and carefully dragged it under the wax seal to loosen it, before using his fingers to open it all the way.
Putting the blade on the table, he carefully fingered the letter out of the envelope. The paper was neatly tucked and folded into the envelope, the small blotch of ink on the corner implies that it was a written letter, not a typed one.

“Dear Mister Gray,

We are delighted to inform you that you have been granted admission to Ashford University for the upcoming academic year. Congratulations! 
On behalf of the entire admissions committee, I extend my warmest welcome to you as a member of the esteemed Ashford community”

As he continued to read, he couldn't help but feel the bubbling curiosity climbing and building in his gut.

Ashford University is a school residing in the mountains of France for the brightest thinkers, inventors, and artists. Founded by Caius Ashford, the University is well known to pump out bright graduates and scholars, and for their very minimal acceptance of students every year, most were personally seeked out by the school.
It's one of the most secluded and prestigious Colleges that only accepts so few students every year.

Hadrian wonders what he had done to attract such attention from such school, yes he admits that he may have excelled at his studies on all subjects, but that couldn't have been the reason, not the only reason anyway.
His curiosity is reaching its peak limit, suddenly the other rec letters on the table blurred together into something unnoticeable, every focus seems to shift to the letter in his hand.

This could be his key, the key to finally satisfy his need and craving for the academic aspect of literature. His original plan of Cambridge University was pushed aside, and Ashford University’s letter polluted his mind like the air in a busy London day, almost asthmatic and suffocating.

He felt himself being able to breathe again, the focus returned to his surroundings and the sound of rain water hitting the glass window brought him back.

He gathered himself and walked over to the landline phone nearby, punching in the number to his parent's own landline phone in their bedroom, and waited for an answer, the beeping that indicates the phone was indeed ringing filled his right ear.
Letter in hand, his mother finally answered the phone.

“Hello? Harry honey?” Her sweet and melodic voice sent a calming feeling all over his body, his shoulder loosened its tension and relaxed.

“Hey mum, how are you?” He asked, a soft smile on his lips. He then went on to explain his current situation, the letter still clutched in his hand.

In truth, he already knew what she would say. She would always say to follow his gut and that she and father will support him no matter what. But it just feels better for him to talk about it anyway, it makes him feel better about things. And they give good advice.

Like he expected, his mother says “Well, what do you want, darling?”

Hadrian’s brows furrowed, he bit his inner lip in thought.