broken crown

When they’d been in the tent, pretending they weren’t waiting for Ron to come back, Hermione had shown Harry all types of useful spells. Come to think of it, she’d been a better teacher to him than all the Hogwarts professors combined, especially in those last few months. He wouldn’t have survived so long without her.

Of all the spells she’d taught him, his favorite had to be what she called the wind pianist charm, which played musical compositions by modulating the air around them. They had used it many times when they were out of words yet desperate to fill the oppressive silent of the tent. So many times in fact, that it was now part of the reasonable repertoire of spells he knew how to cast wandlessly. As such, after a night spent staring at the ceiling in his new dorm, he stepped out of the castle, sat down under a tree and played one of his best friend’s favorite pieces while cracking open a book on healing arrays.

Hadrian was glad to be in an open space again; the badgers’ common room was nice but he was always more comfortable seeing real sunlight than enchanted windows. It was barely morning at this moment, but seeing the sky get rid of its pinkish hue as he mentally prepared himself to face the world again was soothing. He breathed at the rhythm of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, basking in the beauty of a Hogwarts that hadn’t seen war yet.

Before those moments in the tent, he had never gotten the occasion to enjoy the music, whether wizarding or muggle. He’d been glad to find out he was able to love something that didn’t rely on adrenaline. It was probably why he’d enjoyed the runic arts so much as well; learning magic that required quiet, patience and an absolute focus had grounded him in those days of terror. He’d never get to thank Hermione for that. He smothered that thought as he took out a notebook from his backpack and started taking notes.

***

Severus Snape loved potions. The delicate art of brewing was his one true passion, and despite his known interest for the Dark Arts, be it their applications or the defense against them, it was truly potions that captivated him. Contrary to what one would think, it made it harder to teach. Seeing those dunderheads butcher what he considered an art by their inability to follow simple directives was grating, and he never looked forward to a new semester of torture. Especially since the exhausting Longbottom boy and his friends had come to Hogwarts.

But still, it meant he could see Lily. After years of silence, it was something he’d learnt to cherish. Their reconciliation had taken time, and he’d truly had to grovel to come back into her good graces, especially when her resentment for his life choices had been exacerbated by the loss of her child, but it was made all the better for it. Now they were colleagues, and his oldest friend had graciously agreed to wake up at ungodly hour of the morning to pluck some potions ingredients at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Lily was a morning person, he very much wasn’t.

“Today is going to be a long day,” he muttered as he rubbed the bleariness out of his eyes.

His friend chuckled.

“Come on, Sev, it’s a lovely morning,” she said with a grin, pausing to admire the beauty of the Hogwarts grounds.

It had been decades since they’d first seen the sight, and yet to Lily it had never lost its magic. Fondness brought a reluctant smile to his face, which he smothered before she could see. Judging from her brightening beam, it was a failure.

He listened to her ramble on about the more hands-on projects she had planned as they walked out of the castle. Lily’s teaching style was worlds away from his, and for a class as uneventful as arithmancy she truly managed to make it more engaging. He didn’t have as much patience as she did for the dunderheads he taught.

“-and I want the class to be immersive, you know? So I thought putting them in the perspective of Petronilla Marano -you know, the one who predicted that earthquake in Sicily in 1878 and managed to prevent it?- would be interesting? I talked to one of her descendents and they were able to preserve her pensieve memories. My advanced arithmancy class is so small I’m sure they would like to witness it- is that a student?”

Severus followed her gaze. He didn’t see anything at first -his eyesight wasn’t perfect, it came from all the potions fumes-, but what interested him more was what he could hear. Soon, he was able to make out a silhouette leaning against a tree.

“Moonlight Sonata,” he murmured, “not a particularly original choice, but I suppose it is a soothing music.”

“I thought they didn’t play muggle music on the Wizard Wireless Network.”
“They don’t.”
“A charm, then?”

He hummed thoughtfully as they stepped closer to the noise.

“That’s the new transfer student,” observed Lily before wracking her brain for his name. “Hadrian Pierce, was it? Let’s go say hello.”

Severus rolled his eyes but nodded his assent. Merlin preserve him from Lily’s friendliness. Still, he had to admit he was curious about the boy.

The Heads of Houses had been briefed over the boy’s situation. His guardian had died unexpectedly the year before and the Ministry had agreed to let him be emancipated on the condition that he attended Hogwarts. He had been homeschooled by said guardian until then, and was expected to have a few gaps in his knowledge of the curriculum.

And yet here the boy was, proficient enough in wandless magic to maintain a notoriously difficult music weaving charm and reading advanced healing treaties. Severus didn’t comment on it; he wouldn’t forge an opinion on the boy until he’d seen his work in potions.

Pierce, who had been focused on scribbling away in the notebook he had opened in his lap, his left hand barely twitching to keep the music going, rose his head to gaze at them. Severus raised an eyebrow. They had been pretty quiet, how did the boy notice them?

“Good morning,” greeted Lily, undeterred by the boy’s wary gaze.

“Good morning, professors.”

As he spoke, the volume of the music dropped until the morning birds could be heard chirping again. The boy had barely flicked his wrist.

Severus stayed quiet as his friend made small talk with the new student and observed. Pierce had green eyes like Lily, but they looked nothing like the forest green in his friend’s irises.

They were emerald green and had a faint glow to them that oddly reminded Severus of the Drink of Despair, a potion inducing fear, delirium, pains and extreme thirst in the drinker. It was uncanny. His gaze seemed more guarded and the potions master was left to wonder exactly how his guardian had died for him to make such an expression. Dumbledore had claimed the case was classified, meaning that they probably had been an Unspeakable.

Well, no matter. He tuned back in to the conversation to hear Pierce animatedly explain something about linking runes to Lily who was looking fascinated.

Ah, she had dropped out of Runes to focus on Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy and the then available subject of Alchemy, for which professor Dumbledore had never been able to find a replacement teacher. He could have taught it himself, but he’d been too busy fighting a war and being a political figure. He’d never accorded much priority to his duties as a headmaster. The old fool had replaced the elective with Divination, of all things.

“I had no idea you could do that,” exclaimed Lily and Severus almost rolled his eyes.

She would have known if she hadn’t avoided the half-batty professor Babbling like the plague. The professor was a lot to deal with admittedly but Lily’s patience for her absent-mindedness was even lower than his. His lips twitched. He couldn’t wait for her to enjoy the gift that was Luna Lovegood in the classroom.

“It’s really quite interesting, professor. Runes can be drawn in the air and accomplish just as much as a wand does, though they require more knowledge to achieve the desired results,” explained the kid animatedly, his eyes lighting up in a more natural way.

Before Severus could correct that only the most adept Rune masters were able to draw arrays with their own magic, Pierce proved his own point by reproducing the musical weaving charm he had put up before they arrived. Severus bit his tongue, trying not to show his surprise. It was only after they’d said goodbye to the kid to go get his plant cuttings before dawn ended that he quietly told Lily how advanced what the fourth-year just did.

“Oh, I wish I had him in my Arithmancy class,” bemoaned Lily, with an oddly wistful expression. “He’s taking Care instead, it’s such a shame.”

Severus made a non-committal noise, more focused on a fact that Lily had probably also noticed but refused to voice. Save for the curly hair, the paler skin, sharper features and his unsettling glowing eyes, Pierce looked somewhat like what he imagined Harry Potter would have looked like if he’d survived that terrible night of Halloween 1980.

***

Hadrian supposed his return to Hogwarts wouldn’t have felt complete without a mandatory altercation with Draco Malfoy. He just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

He’d had pity for the Malfoy of his world, sure, but even if he wouldn’t have wished to anyone what the blond had endured during the war, it was difficult not to remember that his family had welcomed Voldemort with open arms and had only every protested his actions when they became inconvenient to them. Perhaps he would have witnessed his former school rival learn the errors of his ways if he had stayed in his world, but he hadn’t.

He was here, where a younger version of the man he’d known was bullying his new friends. He’d had Herbology with the Gryffindors -which he had spent partnered with Hermione, who was glad for his quick reflexes when Ron squeezed his plant a little too hard and almost got her in the face with a sizzling blue substance- and had been invited to eat with them at lunch. He’d found it hard to refuse, basking in the presence of this world’s version of his oldest friends. The ache at the absence of his own Ron and Hermione hadn’t completely disappeared, but spending time with this version of them soothed it somewhat.

“Longbottom!”

Hadrian listened with a distracted ear to the blond’s mockeries. He’d never realised how much Malfoy sounded like he was pulling pigtails. Or maybe it was just because it was Neville?

Hadrian’s lips twitched.

“Find something funny, Pierce?”

“No, no, go on. I’m sure you had something absolutely fascinating to add to… whatever that was.”

The blond’s expression twisted. Hadrian could hear Ron snicker next to him. He didn’t turn to him; he was already feeling silly enough to be arguing with a fourteen-year-old, he didn’t need the encouragement.

“So you’re licking the Boy-Who-Lived’s boots, new kid? I wouldn’t if I were you. Your parents might go the way his parents did.”

Hadrian tilted his head.

“I’m not too worried. But tell me. What possessed you to say something like that?” he asked, shifting his weight to stand staighter. His eyes flashed and Malfoy paled a little. “Do you enjoy disrespecting the dead?”

Malfoy sneered, though he looked uncomfortable.

"Who cares? Like you said, they’re dead.”

Murmurs rose around them and Hadrian could see Hermione holding Neville’s wrist from the corner of his eye. His not-quite-new friend looked seconds away from swinging at Malfoy. The wizard at the time shook his head at him.

“It’s not worth it, Neville,” he mouthed.

Hadrian threw a look to the bystanders and they all fell silent. He then focused his attention back on Malfoy.

“They are. Dead, that is. Everyone knows the story of how they died so their son could live,” he murmured. “But I’m not sure that’s a retort you should be proud of. Honestly, making fun of someone for having lost his parents - are you not ashamed of yourself?”

The thing about Malfoy was that in all the times he threw slurs around, it was rarely done in front of a big audience. The Boy-Who-Lived -whether it was Harry or Neville- was not always a popular figure, but people respected war heroes and what they fought for. They might not exactly all disagree with pureblood ideals but siding with Voldemort in public was bad form.

Malfoy was aware of that, even if he tended to forget himself. It was the reason why he’d offered his friendship to Harry in first year after all. He sure had insulted him publicly in the Great Hall, but that was never more than juvenile words and snide remarks. Right now, he had probably noticed that his comments skirted the line of the acceptable.

As he saw the disapproving looks he was garnering, the blond flushed and opened his mouth, undoubtedly prepared for a retort. But Hadrian wasn’t finished. He held up a hand and sent the bully a withering look.

“I’d advise you to learn to keep your advice to yourself, or someone might decide to curse your mouth shut. I’m sure you can think of a spell for that.”

“Is this a threat?”

Hadrian blinked innocently.

“Of course not,” he said with a guileless smile. “It’s forbidden to use magic in the corridors.” He turned to his new friends. “I think we’re done here, shall we go?”

“Yeah mate, I’m bloody starving.”

Hadrian entered the Great Hall, turning away from the blond. He didn’t intend it to be dismissive and didn’t particularly liked the idea of showing his back to an enemy, but he trusted his reflexes and this fourth-year version of Malfoy seemed hardly threatening enough for him to feel like he needed to return to his war-time vigilance.

“That was a bit too much, Hadrian,” commented Hermione as they settled down at the Gryffindor table, looking disapproving.

“You’re right,” he admitted sheepishly. “But one thing I learnt about bullies is that they never shut up unless you make yourself out to be a bigger threat than you are.”
“I thought it was brilliant,” said Ron, filling his plate.
“Mhm. Thanks, Hadrian.”

Neville was quiet but his expression grateful. Hadrian blinked before rubbing the back of his neck.

“I- it wasn’t much. I might have made more of a scene than needed, actually.”

“It would have ended up a spectacle anyway. Everything that involves me does,” he said, sounding resigned. “But still. You stepped in, so thank you. No one’s ever done that before.”
“They just stand there and stare like it’s a circus act,” agreed Hermione, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

Hadrian looked away, embarrassed, but he inclined his head to acknowledge their thanks.

“Anyway, I was thinking we could…”

***

“... and Severus said he’d deal with it, but every time he tries to ‘deal’ with a student they end up with a ridiculous amount of points taken and three weeks of detention.”

“Don’t you think it’s deserved? The kid insulted you to your face.”
“Yes, but I was thinking I could talk to him. If he’s acting out a gentle touch might be better than a heavy-handed punishment.”
“Try then, and if it happens again you can let Snape take care of it.”

Lily smiled fondly.

“You could start calling him Severus, you know? We’ve reconciled years ago..”

“Er. I’m not sure our truce includes being on a first-name basis.”

She rolled her eyes.

Her husband could be really silly sometimes. His opinion of Severus had gotten better with the years. James had to acknowledge that the man was the reason why they were still alive today after all, even if Severus tried to pass it off as his paying off his life debt. But there was still tension between them both due to their rivalry at school and Severus’ choice to become a Death Eater.

No matter that he had regretted it, switched sides and been the one to tell them that Barty Crouch Jr had overheard the prophecy once he realised it targetted Lily, it left a bitter taste in their mouths for a long time. They had lost their son to Wormtail’s betrayal and the Death Eaters’ madness -she still cursed herself for having trusted Peter to watch Harry while they checked on the Longbottoms-, having Severus as a coworker had been like an open wound during her first years of teaching.

The ache had ebbed after a while though and she’d tentatively reconnected with her friend. Now they were as close as when they were children.

“Flower?” asked James, looking concerned.

“I’m sorry, I’m just. Distracted.” She paused. “Did I tell you about the transfer student?”
“You mentioned him after the feast, but only by name. Pierce, right? I think we’re distantly related.” At her raised eyebrow, he added. “Well, more related than most other pureblood families.”

She took a deep breath and hummed. James’ brows furrowed at her conflicted expression.

“His name is Hadrian. He’s a Hufflepuff. I don’t have him in my classes but I spoke to him on the first day of class. He was up at dawn, reading outside. I talked to him a little. He’s a clever kid. Guarded, though. And his eyes are so sad sometimes, I- he reminds me of Harry,” she revealed. “He’s got green eyes like me, but brighter and your hair colour. He’s skinny like he doesn’t eat enough and he doesn’t wear glasses but he looks…”

“Like you and me,” completed James with a sigh.
“I know I’m projecting but I keep looking at him and I wonder if our baby would have looked like this and I-”

She burst into tears. There was the sound of crackling fire and soon after, James was stepping into the floo and embracing her. She stayed in his arms for a long time, letting out her grief and pain at the loss of their child. She could feel James crying with her, his head buried in her hair.

“I miss him so much,” she whispered between wracking sobs.

“Me too, me too.”

Even thirteen years later the wound felt too raw. They never could bring themselves to go back to Godric’s Hollow. They’d healed, slowly, but never fully. They still hadn’t talked about having another child. Lily wanted to, but when she thought about bringing it up, her throat closed and she felt her hands tremble. She knew they needed to talk about it one day.

Tonight, though, it wasn’t on her mind. In her husband’s embrace, she grieved.

***

“I can’t believe you haven’t gotten lost once.”

“I think the castle likes me,” said Hadrian with a wry smile he couldn’t quite keep to himself.

He was walking to the Hufflepuff common room with Cedric, who seemed to have made it his mission to befriend him. Hadrian didn’t understand why exactly the older student was interested in him. He’d accosted him on his way back from dinner and tried to make small talk the whole time. It was both incredibly nice and uncomfortable. I killed you, he wanted to scream, why are you being so kind to me? But it wasn’t like he could tell him, and he knew Cedric was just like that.

He wasn’t exactly lying when he said the castle liked him. Since he arrived it seemed that it tried to make sure he was always able to go where he wanted on time, and sometimes shifted the stairs to lead him away from crowded corridors when he felt jittery. Even the ghosts seemed to mind his presence, though Hadrian doubted they’d noticed. He wondered if he should talk to Death about it.

“I’m jealous. It’s only, what? Your third day of class? And it’s like you’ve always lived here. How were your first classes, by the way?”

“Boring,” he mumbled.

They entered the Hufflepuff common room and Hadrian settled down at a table on a secluded alcove. He restrained a sigh when the prefect sat down on the couch in front of him.

“What are you going to do? Homework?”
“No, I finished it all during a free period. I was planning on reading. Look, I appreciate the fact that you’re checking in on me but shouldn’t you go back to your friends?” he asked, pointing at the rowdy crowd of sixth years on the other side of the room. “I’m fine, I’m adapting pretty well, you don’t need to worry about the new kid.”

Cedric looked at him like he was dim.

“I’m not checking in on you, I’m trying to befriend you. If you want me to leave you alone though, I will.”

The prefect looked a little hurt, but he stood back up with a forced smile. Hadrian instantly felt bad.

“No, I just. Why would you want to be friends with a fourth-year? You have plenty of friends already.”

“Because you seem interesting and you’re not, you. Look.” He sighed and ran a hand though his hair. Despite his best efforts, his dark locks didn’t achieve a third of the mess Hadrian made of his own mane. “My friends aren’t bad exactly but they treat me like I’m…”
“The greatest thing since sliced bread?” suggested Harry with a quirk to his lips.

Cedric chuckled, though he looked uncomfortable.

“Yeah, that. I don’t know what I did but everyone treats me like I’m some sort of Golden Boy and it doesn’t make for very genuine friendships, you know?”

He sat back down slowly.

“But I saw you defending Longbottom. You barely know him and you just. Redirected Malfoy’s attention to you like it was nothing. I’d like a friend like that.”

Hadrian stared.

“Sure,” he said after a while.

“What- wait, you mean?”
“I mean, yeah. You chose to befriend me at your own peril, though. If you regret it later, it’s your own fault.”

The prefect lit up and he started laughing.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue.”

***

“I didn’t expect you to be calling me so soon, Master.”

“I didn’t expect it either. But I have some questions. Um, if you don’t mind?”

Death looked amused.

They were in the room of Requirement, where Hadrian had snuck out for a private chat with the being who had led him to this world.

“I don’t mind.”

“Why does the castle like me? And the ghosts? They’re just… weirdly friendly. It wasn’t like that before.”

The Bloody Baron had smiled at him that evening, he remembered with a shudder. At least Myrtle hadn’t sought him out.

“Hogwarts knows you died to protect it even if such a thing didn’t happen here yet, it is not surprising that the castle took a liking to you. I have nothing to do with it. As for the ghosts, I will admit it is my doing. You and they are very similar. You both refused the eternal peace for a different kind of life. Like recognises like and thus they see you as kin. You bear my mark even while being alive. But rest assured. They will not betray your secret.”

“Right. Thank you for clearing that up,” he said faintly, scared to even consider the implications of that.
“I aim to please. Anything else?”

Hadrian bit his lip, gathering his resolve.

“Are people Fated to die?”

“You’re asking about Cedric Diggory,” said Death in a flat tone.
He nodded cautiously.

“No. Only Voldemort’s defeat is dictated by Fate. How it comes to be is not its concern. It’s mine.” It paused. “I do not assign mortals a time to die. You are free of choice.”

Hadrian stayed silent for a long time.

“I see.”

“If that is all, I will take my leave, Little Master, lest your housemates worry about your disappearance.”
“Wait! Um, if someone asked about my dead guardian, can I say your name is Mortimer? Or would you like to choose another name? I don't know, Morticia?”

Death chuckled. Hadrian tried to pretend he wasn’t embarrassed, but he had always been terrible at hiding his emotions.

“How about both? Switch it up a little.”

Right. He could do that.