Welcome to Grimmauld Place No 12
Ollivander’s was a place many wizards only visited once in their life. Only saw him once in their life unless, of course, they accompanied their future kids.
Though, not many look forward to stepping into Ollivander’s dusty, little shop again. Despite the joy they felt and still remembered from when they found their perfect wand; the warmth that had enveloped them. These memories were shadowed by an ancient man with white, frizzy hair and a disconcerting aura; knowledge he shouldn’t have nor remember. And yet, it was this shop the boy with death-green eyes stepped into and smiled.
It was just as dusty and packed as he remembered it. Everywhere he looked where wands, parts of wands, wand cores and already crafted wood. It was chaotic, a mess, and yet everything seemed to have a place.
And the aura this place emitted… it was amazing. A calm tranquility and serenity, even later when the second blood-war or The war waged. It always gave off this aura, no matter what.
Hadrian smiled. He’d missed this. This magic.
A silent crack from the back had Hadrian open his eyes and zero in on the movement he caught immediately. And there, in all his living, old glory stood Ollivander. Hair as white and frizzled as always and pale eyes looking around as if seeing more than every other person.
“Mr Potter” he greeted at least. “Eleven inches, holly, core of a Phoenix feather.” He paused, seemed to look the green eyes boy up and down before raising an eyebrow. A slight smile stretched over his ancient features.
“Or would it be 15 inches, elder, its core the tail hair of a Thestral. Interesting, Mr Potter, interesting indeed.”
Hadrian just inclined his head with a small smile. He had known the old wizard would know immediately. It was a shame that he hadn’t lived longer than he had. He had been a true asset to their side.
Many did not know nor expect him to be efficient in anything except making excellent wands. They could simply not imagine him to stand up to fight — and fight with a power far greater than that of a normal wizard.
Oh, he had shown them all what a master of wands was truly capable of. And that was not only the art of creating them, but also the art of using them in ways seldom seen before.
And what a sight it had been. Magnificent and beautiful and great and deadly.
It was a shame, truly, to have lost him just three years into The war.
He, alongside many other magicals, had been captured by the Mundanes. The rescue attempt got many out again, of course, but not all. And Ollivander was one of those who didn’t make it.
The Mundanes didn’t make it either, though. Not when Garrick was one for greatness and dramatics and chose to go down with a big bang. A bang that took the entire Science Laboratory and its inhabitants with him.
It was brilliant. And very traumatic.
Hadrian still saw it in his dreams. The great force that blew apart the entire building stone for stone, the all-encompassing flames that left nothing alive, the screams of terror and pain, and, maybe even worst of all, the magic wave that hit those in the vicinity of the explosion.
The wave that forced everyone to feel what they felt, the ones this magic once belonged to, the ones the magic loved and cherished. They had to feel every wound, every torture, every lick of the flames against their paper like skin.
The experience of something like this was as much an honour as a curse. It was as beautiful as it was deadly.
It had been a sad day, and yet also one for eye opening revelations and new beginnings.
Revelations and beginnings that came way too late.
“Good to see you, Garrick.” He smiled and brought a closed fist to his left shoulder, bowing his head in greeting. “It’s been a while.”
The wand maker looked at him strangely, his head cocked and eyes intense, like he was a specifically hard puzzle he tried to figure out but just… couldn’t.
“I first saw you when you were a little, frightened eleven year-old boy, and I knew immediately that you would be great.” The old wand-maker told him. “The next time I saw you was just a few months ago, at the weighing of the wands, and while you were grown you were still oh so frightened. Scared of what was prophesied to be your life.” He paused and looked into the green, green eyes of the boy. Into the color of the killing curse. “But when I look at you now, I see no frightened boy desperately trying to survive in a world that’s out to kill you… what changed?”
“Time” was the simple and only answer Ollivander got. And he did not understand.
The boy seemed to know it too, if the low chuckle was any indication.
“I’m in need of a wand holster.” He said at least. “I trust you have one fitting for me with the necessary runes of protection.”
Garrick raised an eyebrow, as if he was asking Hadrian if he thought him inapt at his profession.
Without any words he took out a few wand holsters before, once again looking at Hadrian searchingly, and picking one of them up.
“Black dragon hide, nice and subtle, engraved with runes for protection, repelling, cleaning and anti-theft. 10 Galleons.”
Hadrian took it and looked it over, taking in the feeling of it and the tiny runes neatly sewn on it. After that he also examined the others the old wand maker had taken out. While these ones looked good and had the required protections, the wand holster he had given him was really exactly he wanted.
“I’ll take this one, then.” The boy decided and took out the required Galleons. Without further words, Garrick nodded, packed away his products and took the money.
Hadrian, meanwhile, fastened the wand holster on his forearm, secured his wand and nodded a goodbye to the old man before turning around and leaving. He still had to go somewhere before someone noticed he was missing.
Ollivander meanwhile watched the boy go silently. And even when he had long since vanished from sight did he still look at the place the boy had wandered from.
The boy had changed — had grown and was no longer frightened of the shadow that seemed to follow him every step he took. But that was not it, was it? No.
He had not grown in height as he had in character, as he had grown into his own. And he was not simply not afraid of the shadow anymore, but instead of trying to run away from it, he seemed to have fallen into step with it. Not controlled, no, but rather familiarised, mastered.
Garrick knew that, whatever may come next, nobody would be prepared for it.
xXxXxXx
With the sun having already started to rise, the inhabitants of Diagon Alley also slowly started to awaken.
Still sleep ridden shop owners walked out of their shops yawning, sloppily arranging their products and opening their doors for business before retreating behind the counter for some more much needed sleep.
Others had to do a bit more, either feeding their livestock (like the Magical Menagerie) or preparing post to go out in a timely manner.
And so, when Hadrian entered the Post office in Diagon Alley, everything was rustling with sleepy, hectic and eager owls to stretch their wings and get out and about.
He had to duck quickly to avoid collision with a particularly eager owl. However, before long he stood at the counter, patiently — or rather impatiently — waiting for the shop assistant to notice him.
Of course, before he entered the shop he had made sure that his scar wasn’t visible. Additionally he had set his face in a look similar to that of the Malfoy heir when he tried to imitate his face. Both of that, coupled with his obvious muggle clothes and absence of his glasses hopefully wouldn’t get him recognised. The still sleep drunken mind of these people should also help.
After all, apart form the sparsely and short outings for school shopping and the few — and bad — photographs taken of him in the last year, nobody truly knew what he looked liked. They all just always expected him to look like James Potter with Lily Evans eyes.
Finally, after a too long wait, a shop assistant came over to him.
“Welcome to Diagon Alley’s Owl Post Office, what can I do for you?” Came the drowsy, customary question.
Hadrian didn’t even bother with a greeting. He simply took out the letter he couldn’t sent with Hedwig and slid it over the counter.
“This letter needs to be sent as quick as possible. I’m willing to pay extra to make it go out right this moment.” It was crucial that nobody knew what was written in the letter, even if it wouldn’t make any sense to anyone reading it apart from the one it was for. Well, hopefully he would be able to understand it, if not then Hadrian didn’t know what he would do, being alone as he was…
…
Hello Magic,
How are you doing? It looks like I will have to write The lines again and I hope I can count on your help; if you remember your promise, that is.
The Little Moon tells me you will, and I trust the Moon. But the Little Moon has also a way of telling things and up until now I haven’t received an answer to my questions.
However, I know we haven’t heard of each other for quite a while and that my sudden appearance might come as a surprise for you. Well, whatsoever, I have no desire to repeat The lines alone again, so, will you be there?
Basilisk
…
The clerk rolled his eyes slightly, but accepted the letter nevertheless and called a brown barn-owl over. After the owl left the pandemonium that still reign inside the shop, the clerk opened the register while holding his hand out and stating the price, all the while without looking at Hadrian. Rude. But definitely beneficial.
The green eyed boy-man promptly paid before he finally left the stuffy shop. Once more on the slowly crowding street, he was quick to step into a backstreet, don his invisibility cloak and apparate mid-step.
The world exploded in colourful flashes and spots, his body was squeezed from every side and yet at the same time torn apart. A few micro seconds later the boy materialised in a tranquil, sleepy and normal street. Slightly unnerved by the quiet calmness but at the same time also grateful for it, the person in the invisibility cloak continued walking until he felt the heavy wards settle on his shoulders. And even then he only stopped his fast pace when he reached a familiar door with too many locks and a cat-flap.
Sighing, he uncurled his magic form around him, letting it lock the door and the windows; protecting him, like it’s always done.
He noticed that Hedwig had returned to her perch in the room and was looking at him with smart eyes. Hadrian, however, only looked at her silently before turning his gaze to the sky outside.
Well, not exactly the sky, no, but rather the place where the wards surrounding the house were —should they be visible.
He could, quite honestly, not understand how he never noticed the heaviness of the wards. Their oppressiveness and simply wrongness.
Maybe he had noticed it, Hadrian mused, but then, he would never have understood what it meant back then. Maybe he had noticed it and thought it was meant to feel like this, that it showed that the wards where actually there and working.
It was pathetic.
These wards… they were disgusting. A horrible abomination of what they could have been.
Dumbledore was not wrong when he said that blood wards, especially blood wards based on willing sacrifice, were strong, almost impenetrable, and bound to blood and love. But why the hell did he think that it meant they were bound to Petunia and had to be anchored to her house because of that?!
After all Lily, his mother, had died for him, not Petunia. These blood wards were anchored to him, and him alone. Which meant that anywhere he went these blood wards would follow, because they were bound to his person, not a single house or property. Petunia had nothing to do with all this.
And, honestly? Forcefully binding these sacred and highly complex wards forcefully to this house mutilated their original purpose.
It was simply disgusting.
And sadly nothing he could do anything about.
Sighing he closed his eyes and turned away. Because while he may not be able to do anything about this it didn’t matter anymore.
The Dark Lord Voldemort had his blood. So it didn’t matter how strong or sacred these blood wards were, if the Dark Lord wanted to, then he could just waltz right inside without any repercussions or obstacles.
Fortunately neither he nor the Dark Lord had known this the first time around — he’d probably flipped and done something fucking stupid and reckless while the Dark Lord would have just killed him without much fanfare.
This time, though, he knew and was also aware of the fact that Riddle didn’t. And it’s not like he would ever return to this house after the Order finally picked him up. In fact, he couldn’t wait to get away.
These people might share blood with him from his mother’s side, but that didn’t make them family.
They were right in that aspect. Magic and mundane just shouldn’t mix.
The thud of his aunt and uncle’s bedroom door closing ripped Hadrian out of his thoughts.
The green-eyed man shook his head to clear it a bit while he let his magic put a simple Notice-Me-Not charm on the door. Then he finally sat down on the lumpy mattress and took out his shrunken account information. He would have to go through them before he would eventually be picked up and holed away in an old and grim house.
Therefore, without as much as a resigned sigh, he set to sort through the thick folders.
This… was going to be tedious.
xXxXxXx
It was late in the evening when Hadrian finally sat back satisfied.
The Gryffindor account was as expected. It hadn’t been touched in a long time and any investments it had had going were long since shut down.
The Slytherin and Gaunt accounts were also in an expected state. The possession of the two and their lordships, on the other hand, had been a huge surprise the first time around, however. Really, it should have been obvious. And if it hadn’t been then a simple inheritance potion like he’d done today would have done the job. Just… if someone had taken him to Gringotts when he was a baby and done the ritual… they would have seen that he was the Lord-apparent to Slytherin and Gaunt, that by magic he had vanquished the man.
No-one did, though. Albus Dumbledore knew better, of course…
Anyway, the Slytherin account was similar to the Gryffindor one while the Gaunt vault was empty, so there wasn’t much for Hadrian to do.
The Grim vault however… it was interesting.
There were still investments going and some brought profit, but most of them only made negative numbers, so Hadrian would definitely cancel those.
But that wasn’t what was interesting, no, what was interesting were the payment that where put aside to whomever took him in, for childcare.
And even if the Dursley’s really sucked at caring for a child — be it their own or Hadrian — and Hadrian was fifty percent sure they would have still raised him the way he had been raised — they should have at least gotten this money.
What they got instead was barely enough to pay for the needed food for an infant, never mind for a growing child and other necessities, like clothes or diapers. Therefore they really had to pay for Hadrian — the unwanted, magical child — out of their own pocket.
It was no wonder they always told him his parents had been good for nothing, unemployed junks when there wasn’t left enough of his parents’ inheritance to support their own child.
Hadrian had therefore basically stolen the Dursley’s money since he arrived. Only being a burden and another mouth to feed. Especially considering the high inflation rate at the time back then.
Because, instead of the aforementioned money going to the Dursley’s for his care and their effort, it seemed like someone had use it to their own benefit and the aftermath of the First Blood War.
As much as the green-eyed man despised his so-called family, he knew that it wasn’t fair to them. Especially considering he was magical — which Dumbledore very well knew. After all, it was no secret that Petunia held no love for magic. Despised the very concept of it. And thanks to the liability Hadrian had been it undoubtedly had only grown.
… So yeah, the mild annoyance the emerald eyed boy felt now was nothing compared to the absolute anger and betrayal he’d felt when he saw this for the first time.
Now he simply terminated the payment and was done with it.
He also jotted down a few investments he wanted to start — which should bring in a good bit of money — and a request to his account manager to get hold of a good lawyer. For a price, of course.
Because even though he’d only ‘arrived’ here yesterday, there was so much he could do he only dreamt of before.
So much he could alter.
So much he could do — would do better this time.
So much he could change.
And nearly not enough time to do so.
Sure, there was time now, but was it enough? That was the question, wasn’t it?
He could act now, change things and rewrite the lines of time to be better. To be worth something. And yet… he was here, in the crucial moment where there still was time. But even though there was more, enough time to prevent one thing, it didn’t mean that he could stop the other, crucial thing.
Because one day not that far in the future and yet long since passed, a last, pathetic little straw would — did — break the camel's back. But this was only possible because of all the other straws the camel had already had to endure. Straws that were long since passed and forgotten; ‘not important’ and yet oh so crucial.
Therefore the question was would he be able to prevent all those unimportant straws in time to avoid the last one?
Well, Hadrian sneered, probably, but certainly not in this pitiful, fragile body.
He somehow had to get rid of the consequences of longterm malnutrition, again, built up some muscles, flexibility and endurance, again, and, not to mention, somehow regain some probably non existent respect.
Perfect.
And absolutely no hardship whatsoever.
After all, it’s not like the whole of the Wizarding world either believed him to be a raving lunatic or wanted him dead. No.
Snorting derisively, the green eyed youth stood up from his bed in one smooth movement.
Better start now…
A few minutes later found the boy in more comfortable — but still horrid — clothes doing some simple but effective exercises.
Some time later he fell into bed, practically dead but oh so satisfied. The satisfaction that came after a hard and efficient training and the knowledge that you did something.
Hadrian skilfully ignored the more than mild annoyance at having to start at the beginning of all that again and simply slipped into Morpheus waiting arms, feeling secure in his magic’s familiar and comforting embrace.
xXxXxXx
…
Hello Magic,
You were right, I did not expect to hear from you again. But I should have expected it. After all, we’re talking about you.
Though, dragging me in with you was certainly unexpected, especially your ask for help. But who am I to deny the request of help from such a beauty? I had to wait over a moth after all.
Sadly, our mutual acquaintance is rather fond of red and let me tell you, this color does not suit this body. Apart from that I have no other complaints.
Until we meet again.
Phoenix
…
His sweat leaking body, trembling limbs and rumbling stomach went ignored in favour of this letter and the lovely bubbly feeling it evoked.
Sure, his Little Moon had said he wouldn’t be alone, but to have prove was still better. More reassuring. Especially considering simple strangeness that would set in soon enough. Therefore knowing that he still had Him, his Phoenix, did soothe something inside of the emerald eyed boy he didn’t know needed soothing.
After all, people he loved always left him. But not Him, never Him, because he had promised, had sworn.
…
Hello Magic,
I really don’t like the color red on you either, and I hope you’ll get used to it sooner rather than later.
The Members will come soon and bring me to their charming house and I fear it won’t be safe for us to write each other; you know them.
But I assure to write to you as soon as this stupid trial time is over. Until then I will have to deal with those mindless chicken myself.
Till I see you again
Basilisk
…
His smile morphed into a smirk. He was back.
xXxXxXx
The next few days passed in a similar manner.
Hadrian continued his daily exercises and snatched as much food as he could without getting the Dursleys too mad at him for stealing their hard earned food.
His magic soon flowed like it used to do — free and unhindered through his veins, up and about at a thought’s notice, always swirling and moving and never laying still. Always ready to do something, to help and simply be there, a comforting presence in his isolated loneliness.
In the late evening of the 6th August, long after the sun had set and his ‘family’ had gone to bed, a crash sounded in the kitchen. And then, long forgotten voices of various dead people could be heard.
No, not dead, not yet.
But soon, it they kept up their loud and definitely not sneaky or subtle behaviour.
His magic told him the things he didn’t already know. Nine people cramped themselves into the small kitchen of the house. One of them a magical creature in war with himself — Remus Lupin.
It seemed like the ‘Advanced Guard’ had finally decided to show up.
Casually he grabbed his already packed trunk — which immediately shrunk down — and put it in his pocket of his too big jeans. Then he proceeded to take out his wand and hold it in front of him like the unexperienced teen he played to be while his magic wrapped itself around him protectively.
Like a frightened child he stumbled down the stairs.
“Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone’s eyes out.” Said a low, growling voice.
Hadrian did lower his wand, if only somewhat so he seemed to be complying.
“Professor Moody?” He tried to say uncertainly, however, internally, he had to smirk.
“I don’t know so much about ‘Professor’” the mad old man growled, “never got around much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly.”
“It’s all right, Harry. We’ve come to take you away.” And that was the voice of the man his magic had already singled out earlier. The magical creature at war with himself — Remus Lupin.
“P-Professor Lupin” the green eyed boy said idly, though he was careful to add a disbelieving note to his voice. “Is that you?”
Before Lupin or anyone else could say anything commenting on his — maybe — strange behaviour, a third voice spoke up.
“Why are we all standing in the dark? Lumos.”
A wand-tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. Hadrian blinked and suddenly he could see the people in front of him and not just sense them. The Advanced Guard was crowded around the foot of the stairs, gazing up at him intently, some cringing their heads for a better look.
Remus Lupin, Alastor ‘Mad-eye’ Moody and Nymphadora Tonks stood closest to him. Followed by the pushing Emmeline Vance, Elphias Dodge, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones and Sturgis Podmore. Kingsley Shaklebolt, Hadrian noted, stood the furthest back. Still, those were definitely too many for a small, quick ‘rescue’ attempt.
Especially since almost none of them — Mad-eye excluded — watched their surroundings or made sure he was the one they were looking for, and not some imposter.
It was particularly pathetic.
It got even more pathetic when he noticed that they were all commending on his looks.
“Ohh, he looks just like I thought he would.” — “He looks exactly like James.” — “Except the eyes, Lily’s eyes.”
Like he’d said, pathetic.
In particular when you considered that his eyes were definitely not Lily’s eyes — too green, too vibrant, too intense, too deadly — and he did not wear the glasses everyone expected him to wear… which no-one seemed to have noticed. Great.
But Hadrian kept his mouth shut. It was not his place to tell them he didn’t look like James, they would find out soon enough.
Instead, he focused his piercing eyes on Moody, who was the only one squinting suspiciously at Hadrian through his mis-matched eyes.
“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?”
The truth serum would be bad, admittedly. Even though he would say his true name, it would not be the name they would be expecting, not the right name everyone thought they knew.
As for him being a Death Eater imposter? Well, that was certainly possible. However, while he could be considered an imposter — no matter how unwilling or innocent in that endeavour —, he was certainly no Mort Munchie.
“Harry, what form does your Patronus take?” Lupin voice brought him out of his thoughts again and he almost did a double take. Did they seriously consider this to be a safe question no-one knew the answer to?
… Pathetic.
“A stag” Hadrian replied.
“That’s him, Mad-eye,” said Lupin and Hadrian reigned in his snort.
Utterly pathetic.
Nevertheless, he descended the stairs while blatantly shoving his wand in the back pocket of his jeans.
“Don’t put your wand there, boy!” Roared Moody. “What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!”
“Speaking of experience?” He asked slyly, interestedly.
“Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket!” Growled Mad-eye. “Elementary wand-safety, nobody bothers about it anymore.” He stomped off towards the kitchen. “And I saw that,” he added irritably, as an amused smile flitted over the green eyed boy’s face.
So, while the others all followed Moody into the kitchen, though some still gazing at Harry avidly, he discretely took out his wand again and slipped it into his wand-holster. Moody was right after all, a pocket was the worst place for a wand to be.
Hell, it was a simple piece of wood with an offering from a magical creature in it. It could be broken so easily, and the backlash would be… intense.
He quickly shook himself out of his musings when he noticed Lupin looking at him questionably.
“We are leaving, aren’t we?” He asked went he finally also entered the kitchen. “Soon?”
“Almost at once,” said Lupin, “we’re just waiting for the all-clear.”
“Why would we need an all clear? Is the place we’re apparating to crowded? Under watch by Ri— Voldemort?” Hadrian winced, hoping no-on had noticed his near slip up, but then… he didn’t think so. Almost everyone of them was looking at him as if he were insane. Maybe he was, but they were even more so.
He remembered the first time they picked him up — as if flying on a broom through all of London was safe and inconspicuous. Honestly, it was pure dumb luck that they hadn’t been seen.
“Oh, we’re not apparating. We’re flying.” Vance exclaimed with an eager, expectant grin.
‘No we are not.’
“Flying? As in brooms? Why?” He therefore asked sceptically and maybe a bit humorous.
“Well… it’s not… not that far…” Diggle trailed off before glancing hesitatingly at Moody, obviously a bit thrown off.
Good, let them be. Let them realise how insipid their plan was.
“Maybe, but you do realise that a broom can easily be tracked, right? Whereas tracking apparition is only possible if one of us already has a tracking spell on them, and if that was the case then all of this sneaking around is already for naught.”
The Order members looked at each other sheepishly. Lupin shifted from foot to foot. “We didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with being side-along apperated.” He explained softly. “We knew you’d be much more comfortable with broom travel.”
Yeah no, not bloody likely. He hasn’t been on a broom for years. Of course, he missed the feeling of freedom he felt every time he flew and he’d probably manage well enough that no-one would suspect anything if it came to it but just, no.
“I somehow doubt that Voldy would care about me being comfortable when he captures me but by all means, if you want to fly so bad then go ahead.” He spoke in a tone that slightly suggested that they were all idiots but shrugged nevertheless and made to take his shrunken trunk out of his pocket. However, all the while he kept watching the ‘adults’ subtly.
The Advanced Guard shifted uneasily, clearly embarrassed.
Moody was sitting at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, his magical eye spinning in all directions while his real eye looked at Hadrian shrewdly. Hadrian looked back unblinking.
“The lad’s right.” He grumbled after a while and finally looked elsewhere, to his fellow order members. “We should just apparate from here. Less trouble. Quicker.”
“But…” Tonks started softly but seemed to shrink under the unwavering gaze of Mad-eye Moody, “what about the anti-apparition wards?”
“You mean wards we can just walk through within a few seconds of arriving?” The sarcastic remark had left his mouth before he could stop it. Tonks as well as Hadrian winced. So much for not giving away anything changed.
The silence that followed seemed to stretch on for eons before it was finally broken by the clunk of Moody’s heavy metal leg against the floor as he stood up.
“Everyone get ready. We’ll apparate to the square by you-know-where in five.” He ordered and, like trained puppies, everyone followed his directions.
“Excellent. Harry, you’d better go and get packed.” Said Lupin, who was smiling tightly at the green eyed boy.
“I’ll come and help you.” Tonks chirped brightly.
She was already down the hall again before Hadrian could even open his mouth to tell them that there was no need since he was already packed and ready to go.
No-one questioned him why or where his trunk was, they were just pleasantly surprised that he was already good to go. Therefore, without much more preamble, they put Disillusion charms on them and disapparated one after another. Lupin gave Hadrian’s shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before he, too, apparated, taking the boy with him.
xXxXxXx
They reappeared on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square.
The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were just as unwelcoming as Hadrian remembered; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamp, paint was peeling from many of the doors and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.
The battered and once magnificent door, along with by now dirty walls and grimy windows of Gimmauld Place stood proudly but no less degraded in-between all of it.
It was truly mind-blowing to think that the high and mighty Blacks had once chosen this place for their London townhouse. Or that they let it decay to this degree.
“Here,” Moody, who had hobbled over, muttered, thrusting a piece of parchment towards Harry’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 already familiar piece of paper. Dumbledore’s narrow handwriting seemed to twinkle at him merrily.
‘The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.’
With practised ease, he inconspicuously copied the note and in the same breath hid the real one.
No sooner had he managed this did Moody pluck it out of his hands again and burnt it. A quick, satisfied smirk flew over his face, but was gone again before anyone could see anything.
They hadn’t noticed. Luckily.
Satisfied that his spur of the moment decision worked, he finally opted to look up to where he knew Grimmauld Place to be and put an awed look on his gaunt face.
After all there was no need for the order members to grow suspicious that he — a muggle raised, ignorant little wannabe saviour — wasn’t awed by something like a fidelius.
“Come on, hurry.” Moody growled, hobbling away. The others followed him quickly.
Once they were inside the old and grim house their Disillusion charms were removed and Lupin warned Hadrian not to touch anything.
And this warning, along with everything he’d seen from the Order of the Phoenix today, just made him want to roll his eyes at their sheer incompetence and foolishness.
Not only were most of the people how had escorted him today for protection good for nothings whose only interest was the ‘Boy-who-lived’, but now they were seriously telling him — a supposedly fifteen year old teenager who’s known for breaking the rules and getting in trouble all the time — not to touch anything? Like, seriously? How had he survived the first time when he really had been that bad?! And how had he never picked up at the Order’s incompetence?
Hadrian was honestly appalled.
And not only that, but also di—
A sudden force had his magic lash out before immediately curling back close to his body, circling him close, protective and agitated.
His body had reacted to the threat is magic had felt and instantly straightened, twisting himself in a protective stance to either fight or flee. His closed fist were raised in front of this chest, enhanced by his magic.