Prologue
"Master, Master." Wormtail's voice said, revering in fear and awe. Many voices murmured in unison, kissing dark robes on pale bare feet. Each stood again, masked in dark robes, taking positions in a circle surrounding a sobbing Wormtail, a very smug tall entity in a dark robe, and an unconscious man without a leg collapsed on the ground. What was odder still, were the gaps left in the circle of the surrounding men, as if incomplete or slightly broken.
"Welcome, Death Eaters," The ominous and drawling voice of Voldemort spread through the graveyard. "Thirteen years… thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday… We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"
Voldemort's face twisted into a horrifying grin, his slitted nose twitching and his ruby eyes glowing with an emotion unplaceable.
"I smell guilt." He murmured, "There is the stench of guilt upon the air." The followers collectively shivered, some more visibly than others. "I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact - such prompt appearances! - and I ask myself… why did this band of Wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"
There was a heavy silence in the air, Voldemort sweeping bloody colored eyes around the circle, grinning at each and every one, watching his followers squirm and sweat in fear and guilt.
"And I answer myself, they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone." His voice was deceptively soft yet holding immense anger and suffering. "They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and betwitchment… And then I ask myself, but how could they believe I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?"
The wind sang between the graves, Voldemort's words ringing through the ghostly darkness only dampened by Wormtail's sobs and soft whimpers.
"And then I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort… perhaps they now pay allegiance to another… perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore? It is a disappointment to me… I confess myself disappointed…"
"Master!" All too suddenly, a man flung himself to the ground and broke the circle of silence ringing the Dark Lord. He threw himself at Voldemort's feet, trembling all the way. "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!" Voldemort's cold laughter filled the air over the man's shrieks and Wormtail's suffering, lifting his wand.
"Crucio!" Voldemort did not raise his voice, but ordered in a tone not to be mistaken for anything but wildly dangerous.
Hadrian opened his eyes and gasped for breath as he tried to shake the screams, the immense horror; tried to forget the words ingrained in his mind from the memory of Voldemort's messages. Hadrian was not enjoying his summer of 'peace.' Too often his elves woke him during the night to stop his agonized screaming. They begged his forgiveness for doing so each time, but Hadrian just tiredly thanked them and kissed their foreheads. They deserved better than a broken child for their Master, but Hadrian did the best he could for them.
"Get up, Avery, stand up." Voldemort murmured without any softness. "You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget thirteen long years… I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail? You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?"
Hadrian shuddered, Wormtail screams and shrieks echoing in his mind. Crucio was worse, but maiming himself in such a way… removing his own arm…
"Yes, Master," Wormtail's voice was agonized, pain in every crevice of his being, every facet of his bones. "Please, Master… Please…"
"Yet you helped return me to my body. Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me… and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…" With a wave of his wand, what looked like liquid starlight poured from his wand, droplets suspended in mid air, writhing as if unsure of what to do. It melted together, knitting itself into a perfect replica of a hand and it flew towards the sobbing man, before melding itself to Wormtail's stump of an arm. The man's sobbing ceased and he lifted the new appendage towards the sky in awed, blessed, thankfulness.
"My Lord, Master… it is beautiful… thank you… thank you…" Wormtail worshiped, crushing a stick in hand. He seemed disbelieving, almost.
"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail." Voldemort's voice was quiet once more, but it was a promise of death.
"No, my Lord… never, my Lord…" Wormtail stood shakily, taking his place in a gap in the circle and staring at his hand with a tear stained face.
Remembering what followed hurt Hadrian to near physical pain. It filled him with so much betrayal he feared he couldn't breathe, writhing and twisted darkness filling him with such horrible anger. Suffocating… people he knew, people he feared to see again, people he didn't know if he could ever return to…
"Lucius, my slippery friend." Lord Voldemort stood in front of a man, apart of the circle, and seemed assessing. "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius… your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay… but might your energies have been better directed towards finding and aiding your master?"
"My Lord, I was constantly on alert." Lucius Malfoy's voice came from under the hood, "Had there been any sign of you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me—"
"And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" Lucius shut his mouth with a click, Voldemort's smug voice radiating and interrupting. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius… you have disappointed me… I expect more faithful service in the future."
"Of course, my Lord, of course… you are merciful, thank you…" Voldemort did not deign him a response, simply moving on.
"The Lestranges should be here." Voldemort's voice rang quietly. "But they are entombed in Azkaban rather than renounce me… when Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges should be honored beyond their dreams. The dementors will join us… they are our natural allies… we will recall the banished giants… I shall have all devoted servants returned to me and an army of creatures whom all fear…"
Voldemort continued his walk.
"Macnair… destroying dangerous beast of the Ministry of Magic now, Wormtail tells me? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide…"
"Thank you, Master… thank you." The voice of Macnair murmured, nasally and unpleasant.
"And here, we have Crabbe… you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?" The two large men bowed immediately, their size making it difficult.
"Yes Master…"
"We will, Master…"
"The same goes for you, Nott." The shadow beside Goyle nodded reverently.
"My Lord, I will prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful—"
"That will do." Voldemort said curtly. He continued walking, reaching a large gap with one person standing alone, surrounded by just the night air. "And here we have the six remaining Death Eaters… three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return… he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever… he will be killed, of course. And my last, the one who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service." He stepped in front of the lone man.
"My Lord… it is an honor to serve." It sounded like the voice of a man who was still a child, one who'd never had a chance to grow more fully.
"Crouch… He is a faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our poor friend arrived here tonight…" Voldemort gestured to the twitching man on the ground coolly. "Alastair Moody… ambushed at his home and tucked away by my most faithful as he masqueraded as the same man for a year, teaching the young at Hogwarts." Several Death Eaters stiffened, eyes darting around to the others.
"Master, we crave to know… we beg you to tell us… how you achieved this… this miracle… how you managed to return to us…"
"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius." Voldemort all but crooned with smug softness. "And it begins… with Harry Potter. You know, of course, that they have called that boy my downfall? You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in an attempt to save him – and unwittingly provided with him a protection I admit I have not foreseen… I could not touch the boy. His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice… this is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it… but no matter."
He swept in a circle, arms wide as he beheld his group of Death Eaters. "I miscalculated, my friends, I admit. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah… pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost… but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know… I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal – to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked… for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive and without means to help myself… for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand…"
Sitting up, Hadrian clutched a hand to his chest and tried to breathe, wrapping his other arm around himself as he imagined a wraithlike Voldemort with bloody eyes hunting him down in those years he'd been with the Muggles. So unprotected… so easy to have been killed.
The Horcruxes, Hadrian himself, had kept Voldemort alive after his mother's sacrifice. The first time he'd seen the vision, he'd woken up in tears and spent the rest of the night physically ill. Part of him was grateful for the answers to his questions, but most of him wished he could scrub the horrid images and poisoned words from his mind forever.
"I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist… I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited… Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me… one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body… but I waited in vain…"
Death Eaters around him shook, trembling all but one. Crouch, standing still and smug as he surveyed the people before the Dark Lord.
"Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals – snakes, of course, being my preference – but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill adapted to perform magic… and my possession of them shortened their lives; none of them lasted long…"
Death Eaters waited in silence, soaking in the tale of woe their leader laid bare for them; his suffering. There was no sympathy for the master of the members in the circle, only fear for punishment and mild awe.
"Then… four years ago… the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard – young, foolish, and gullible – wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of… for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school… he was easy to bend to my will… he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Philosopher's Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted… thwarted once again, by Albus Dumbledore…"
Any hope of peaceful sleep was gone. Hadrian stood, leaving a messy bed and not bothering to shut his bedroom door behind him as he began walking down the halls of Black Manor. It was barely three in the morning, and yet he walked, he thought, and he tried not to remember, as he always did, and failed. The halls of his Manor could not protect him forever…
"The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been." Voldemort continued in his soft yet menacing voice. "I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn't fear that I might never regain my powers… Yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour… I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess… and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me…"
His followers shifted, uncomfortable or ashamed, but Voldemort swept by them as he spoke, uncared about or unnoticed. Crouch's eyes absorbed the fear, the shame, and reveled in it.
"And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last… a servant returned to me. Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by one he had once counted a friend, and decided to return to his master. He sought me in the country where it had long been rumored I was hiding… helped, of course, by the rats he met along the way. Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them… But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food… and who should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic."
Wormtail did not so much as twitch at his name, being mentioned and praised, for he was staring at his silver arm. He still held it above his face, examining every facet and twirling the fingers like an elegant dance.
"Now see the way that fate favors Lord Voldemort. This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail – displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected from him – convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him on a nighttime stroll. He overpowered her… he brought her to me." Voldemort smiled at his followers, a dead smile that spoke of arrogance and radiated smugness. "And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proves instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dream… for – with a little persuasion – she became a veritable mine of information. She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this past year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be too willing to help me if I could only contact him."
The man, Crouch, straightened with pride. The others were wary of him, for he had favor where they did not. He had no need to fear, no need to be punished or disgraced like so many others believed they deserved.
"She told me many things… but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her." Bloody eyes in a pale face, blank and lifeless. "Wormtail's body, of course, was ill adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if noticed. However, he was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, I body I would be able to inhabit while waiting the essential ingredients for a true rebirth… a spell of my own invention… a little help from my dear Nagini… a potion concocted from unicorn blood, and snake venom Nagini provided… I was soon returned to an almost human form, and strong enough to travel."
There wasn't a way for Hadrian to express how truly inhuman the twisted form he'd seen only once in his dreams had been. It had been alien, fleshy and crude, a shell with no skin or true humanity within at all. Though, maybe Voldemort wasn't really human anymore either, mangled beyond repair by dark magic.
"I knew that to achieve this – it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight – I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant… my father's bone, naturally, meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe… Wormtail would have had me use any wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who hated me… as so many of them still do."
Crouch glanced at Wormtail, mild annoyance from the ratlike man gaining so much recognition and not even having the faintest clue in his immense distraction. Ungrateful, Crouch thought.
"But I knew the one I must use, if I was to rise again, more powerful than I had been when I had fallen. I wanted Harry Potter's blood. I wanted the blood of the one who stripped me of power thirteen years ago… for the lingering protection his mother once gave him would then reside in my veins too… but how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I could ever conceive… protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Dumbledore hid him away, far from me and from Hogwarts… protected and hidden. Not even I could touch him there… So how could I reach him? Why… by using Bertha Jorkins's information, of course."
Hadrian slid down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and set his head between his knees in the dark hallway, trying to block it out. He'd seen the vision a full week ago and yet it played in his dreams over and over, as if to remind him of how truly close he was… how close he was to Voldemort's reach… and death.
"To use my faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy's name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the Tournament… but my plans were once again thwarted, my friends. I did not know it at the time… far away and waiting for Harry Potter to come to me… but he never came." Voldemort paused, stopping once again in front of Crouch, who looked as if he'd throw himself to Voldemort's feet. "But it was not the fault of Crouch… my loyal follower… for he learned Harry Potter has been hidden – even from Dumbledore – and most likely dead beyond my reach. Harry Potter could not have avoided the Goblet… no, he is surely beyond any of us. Someone else came… a boy from Beauxbaton bearing the same name as a man imprisoned due to false accusations… was presented in Harry Potter's stead. I admit, my friends, he escaped me. However, not all was lost…"
Voldemort swept away, standing over the prone figure on the ground, dirty hair and one leg gone. He wasn't even conscious, blood spilling into the grass from a head wound.
"With the blood of an enemy I am reborn… Harry Potter, far from my reach as he is… I used Alastair Moody, a powerful Auror who would surely give me great vice if he were a pawn in the hands of Dumbledore once again… Avada Kedavra!" Green light flashed, consuming the graveyard–
Hadrian took a shaking breath. "Daisy?" A pop sounded, and he looked up tiredly to see his little elf watching him with blatant concern in her large blue eyes.
"Is Master Hadrian be needing breakfast?" She asked, wringing her hands. Hadrian blinked at the address, and then gave a tiny as he remembered. They'd started calling him Hadrian instead of Black, and he'd been so happy then, and still, that he couldn't help smiling every time they called him that. Focusing on what his little elf had asked, he decided it was way too early, but he definitely wouldn't be going back to bed.
"Yes, Daisy, please." Hadrian nodded, head still pounding. "If it's not too much trouble, I'd like it in my bedroom. I'll be in the shower, so you can just leave the tray on my bed."
"Of course!" Daisy squeaked happily. "Daisy will get Dissy and we be's doing that right away!"
"Thank you." With a little curtsy and a beaming smile, she popped away immediately. Hadrian climbed to his feet, legs feeling as though he'd been hit by the Jelly-Legs Curse, and headed to his room. If he didn't get his act together by August, he'd need to surround his bed with silencing wards to protect his roommates. He didn't exactly have an excuse as to why he screamed bloody murder in his sleep every night.
Hadrian didn't know what he could do about his new… problems. He'd begun feeling odd and out of place things whenever Voldemort was feeling them. Hadrian registered Voldemort's emotions, zinging across his scar, but luckily he could separate them from his own. Voldemort felt such anger… such hatred. Hadrian nearly collapsed, gasping for breath, the first time he'd been hit with a wave of hatred. Blood boiling wrath had filled his veins, and he wanted to scream, to smash things, to release it; Hadrian did not. He'd run himself a shower, and asked his elves to retrieve his broom so he could go for a flight around the Manor grounds.
Since that first time, he'd adjusted to the pangs from the Dark Lord. He's become almost used to them, which was a vaguely depressing thought. Hadrian wondered how different it would've been if his Horcrux had still been blocked. Sometimes, the possibility that he could've been living symptom-free teased and taunted him. But… other times, he envisioned himself being controlled by Voldemort's emotions. Not being strong enough to resist or not having the full picture. So Hadrian wondered, and he received no answers. There was no going back, after all…
Hadrian took a deep breath and opened his drawer of letters, pulling out his two favorites. Draco had written to him every week since Hadrian's departure from Hogwarts, and Hadrian had responded every time despite the doubt he felt creeping inside his heart. His head kept spinning… Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater… Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater…
His favorite from Draco came three days after Hadrian saw the first vision of the summer, and it was what had really kept him from completing dropping the whole Malfoy family in fear.
Dearest cousin Hadrian,
Father has been distracted lately, and is away often. The House is quiet, but mother fills the silence well.
I've taken your advice about house elves, and Dobby really isn't so bad when he's not cringing as if my wrath is as bad as father's. It's sort of… nice, not to be feared like that.
I miss you. Sometimes, I'll just want to talk to someone my own age, and I'll immediately think of you. The Slytherins are nice, but they aren't family. I feel like I really do have family with you, Hadrian. I can only hope you miss me as much as I miss you, otherwise, I'd be making a fool of myself. A Malfoy never does such a thing, as I'm absolutely sure you already know.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to the new school year. Things will be different without you there, and without me hanging around the lake watching you try not to drown. Theo will be around us more, not tucked away at your side. Though, I'm sure he'll still bury himself in books, regardless of your presence. The odd thing is… I feel like something has changed at Hogwarts because of you. I do not hate Gryffindor as much as I did. If those Weasley twins asked me to play a friendly Quidditch match, I'd probably say yes. If Granger came and sat with me and Theo in the library, I would not sneer at her or insult her. I don't know why, but I can't help feeling it is because of you. You've shifted something that can't be unshifted.
I hope we will see each other again soon, Hadrian.
Sending warm regards,
Cousin Draco Malfoy
Hadrian smiled at the paper, folding it and tucking it away gently as he always did when he read it. Even if he wasn't certain about Draco's stance in the war, he was comforted by the fact that the boy remained by his side – at least for the moment.
He wanted his cousin to be able to hover boredly, as if he didn't care when he really did, watching him as Hadrian did something Draco found dangerous. He missed the feeling of comfort he found in Draco, warm eyes and cheap smiles.
With Lucius being a Death Eater, it didn't change things immediately. The hardest risk would be if Lucius was ordered to find Hadrian Black, and tried to place him at Voldemort's feet to be killed. Hadrian didn't mean as much to the Malfoy's as their son, and Lucius seemed the type to do anything to survive. Hopefully, if that happened, Draco would be on Hadrian's side. But… he could die if he chose Hadrian. Even without being revealed as Harry Potter, if Draco chose the side of someone Lord Voldemort ordered to kill… Draco's life would be forfeit.
Putting away his doubts, Hadrian opened the letter from his favorite Weasley.
Fred had written him often since the end of the school year. George wrote occasionally, but Hadrian appreciated that they wrote separately. It made him feel like they cared for him individually, which made him warm inside for different reasons for each twin.
Fred's letter was different from Draco's, and Hadrian felt no doubt when he read it. Hadrian always felt bubbly inside when reading it. Almost… giddy.
Date mine, Hadrian Black.
Today I hid my Joke Products under my bed while George stalled our mother outside our bedroom. We may have exploded something again, which, in our defense, usually helps us with the invention process. We've pretty much perfected the Ton-Tongue Toffees. Unfortunately, we have very few willing test subjects.
As well as that, I assure you that your money is going to good use! We've started an ad campaign in the Daily Prophet, selling our products by owl. George and I… we're beyond grateful.
I've missed you. The other day Ginny was playing the Weird Sisters, telling Mum about the Yule Ball again, and I heard the music. I was reminded of you, as always. The way your smile turns up more on one side, and that dimple next to one of your eyes. I haven't been able to find a green that matches your eyes, even as I continue to try.
It's weird, I'll be talking to George and sometimes we both just pause as if we're waiting for one of your laughs or sarcastic comments. Sometimes we even talk about how much we miss you. Though, George always laughs when I end up going red when he brings up the way you flirt with me. He and I both miss you, even if it's in different ways.
I hope we don't stay parted forever.
Fred Weasley
Hadrian tucked the letter away with the others, letting his mind settle to a calmer level. Thinking about Fred was beautifully painful. He missed wicked grins and playful laughs, he missed soft words and warm hands, and he missed most of all Fred's sincerity. The boy was so playful and yet so serious…
Hadrian didn't reread the ones from his other friends, though they were filed away in the drawer as well. Hermione didn't write very much, due to being more used to phones, but she sent letters once or twice. Ron had sent exactly one letter, and it just informed Hadrian of what every galleon he'd given the boy had been spent on. Theo didn't write much, mainly asking for book recommendations, and it always made Hadrian wonder if Theo was mad at him. Cedric wrote about as little, but that was because he spent so much time with his parents during the summer.
Calmer and more stable, Hadrian placed the bad memories and visions in the same box in his mind he used to restrain his anger and his resentment, then headed to the bathroom for his shower. Voldemort couldn't touch him, couldn't reach him. Hadrian was not Harry Potter, he was simply a Beauxbaton boy who had escaped a half raised Lord and his servant.
Safe in his own mind once again, Hadrian rolled his shoulders and exhaled roughly. He had a Manor to run and elves to take care of. It would take more than a few bad dreams to stop him.