Hadrian Peverell

Sirius couldn’t stop fidgeting and thought it was completely unfair that Narcissa looked entirely comfortable and unbothered as she sipped her tea.

"So, why did you want to meet, Cissy? It's not like we… talk much these days."

"And who's fault is that, Sirius Orion Black?"

The wizard winced at the seemingly pleasant, yet biting tone. Narcissa certainly knew how to portray her true feelings without actually showing any.

"I… you know why. We were on the opposite sides of the war. We are."

Narcissa's eyebrows shot up. "Are?" she repeated. "There is no war, Sirius. There hasn't been one in over a decade."

"Volde-"

"Is long gone," she cut him off, placing her cup back onto the plate rather harshly. "Don't you dare to use this excuse. You're the one who joined Dumbledore in his delusion to defeat the Dark Lord and it tore our family apart. Not us. Not war. You."

"He was doing the right thing!" Sirius shouted and was glad that the tables had their own privacy charms around them, for this surely would’ve caused a ruckus. Perhaps even have Aurors called to check. He wasn’t very well liked at this moment, after all. "Voldemort was mad as a hatter and once he comes back-"

“Comes back?” Narcissa asked incredulously. "Says who? Dumbledore?" 

"Yes!"

"Then you, my dear cousin, need some serious help if you believe every word that comes out of that goat’s mouth. Everything he does is for his own gain, no one else's."

"It's for the greater good!"

"Oh? And what is that?"

Sirius paused. What was that?

"Bettering the… lives of everyone."

"How?" Narcissa pushed forward. "He's been erasing wizarding culture for decades. Decades, Sirius. How is that making anything better when he’s exterminating everything?"

Sirius stared at the witch in shock, his mind having trouble comprehending the words. "But-" he stuttered, "But it's for- it's so muggleborns feel included-"

"So shouldn't we introduce our culture to them, instead of changing it to the muggle one?"

Sirius was confused. This sounded so… logical. So right. Why has he never thought about it?

"I don't know," he admitted. 

"Of course you don't," Narcissa huffed. "You've been fed propaganda since your first year at Hogwarts, darling." She shot her cousin a sharp look, stopping him from arguing. "We used to be best friends, Sirius. All of us. But the moment you went to Hogwarts, the moment you got sorted into Gryffindor - which is nothing bad, don't look at me like that - that is when you were given preferential treatment from Dumbledore and switched your tune."

"Iwasn't- I-  it was the same with everybody else!"

Narcissa laughed humorlessly.

"Please, even you are not that oblivious, cousin dear. You- the Marauders - caused havoc amongst Hogwarts, but Dumbledore prevented any harsher punishment than detentions. Everyone knew. Or anyone who knew where to pay the right attention to." Sirius was about to protest, but Narcissa continued: "Did he raise his glass to you during dinner and smile? As if approving your actions?"

Now that he thought back on it… it happened more than a few times.

“He never reprimanded you, saying it was either a misunderstanding or that it’s harmless fun?”

Sirius paled. How could she know?

The witch nodded, pleased her words had gotten through. "And eventually, once you were of age, he asked you to fight the Dark Lord and join his Order. Even if your family was against it, because it's for the greater good? That you're doing the right thing?"

"H-how do- how do you know all this?" Sirius' voice was shaking.

It's like she's been there all along, but it was simply impossible. They weren’t speaking at all back then!

Narcissa smiled shrewdly.

"Because that's how he picks his child soldiers, Sirius. It isn't a secret and you're not the only one this happened to. He's been doing this for decades."

Sirius' mind refused to believe that. Albus wouldn’t do it. He was good.

"If this is your pitch for me to join Voldemort, it's not working," he said instead, half-joking, simply because his mind was reeling and he didn’t know what to say, other than it couldn’t be true.

The witch snorted. "The Dark Lord has been gone for a long time, cousin. Let's leave it at that. I didn't invite you here to speak about that."

"Oh, then what did you want to speak about? Perhaps how you stole my godson?" contempt slipped into his tone; the anger and hurt he'd been hiding, finally rearing its ugly head.

Narcissa’s eye twitched. “Stole him? From who exactly?”

“Us! He was supposed to be with us!”

“Then where were you?” she asked snidely. “Where were you when he was beaten and starved, and locked up in a cupboard?” Narcissa’s voice was cold as ice and unrelenting, as she began ripping into her cousin mercilessly.

Sirius reeled back away from her in fear she’d actually smack him. 

“You left him with filthy muggles, that weren’t even his relatives, and didn’t check up on him once. You were partying and having the time of your life, while your godson was left to be abused.”

Narcissa was breathing harshly, but not a word she said was a lie.

She still had nightmares about Harry’s - Hadrian’s - medical report. It’s not something a child should ever go through. And she was incredibly glad her ward came out of it strong, with his head held high, and refused to allow his past to define him.

Hadrian was brilliant.

She’d be proud to call him her son.

Narcissa wasn’t stupid or blind enough not to see that Hadrian was dangerous, and will only grow to be that much more. Lucius has been telling her everything that’s been happening at Hogwarts; their conversations and the things he heard from Severus, and compared to what she learned about the boy during summer, one thing was an absolute certainty; no one will be able to manipulate the child.

And that’s exactly what Albus with his band of idiots were trying to do, along with her cousin. Narcissa would never allow that to happen.

Not to someone already so hurt.

“So, Sirius. Tell me. Where were you?”

“I-” the man was pale and turned his gaze downward in shame.

Good, Narcissa thought. He should feel ashamed. 

“Albus said we should stay away. That Harry was living like a normal kid, outside of bad influences. That someone could track us if we went to see him, and could kill him.”

“So you’re telling me, he was safer with muggles than in a Manor, protected by ancient wards along with his family, that could protect him if the need arose? Of whom two are trained Aurors?”

Sirius went beet red.

When said outloud, it did sound stupid.

“There were supposed to be bloodwards protecting him,” he muttered quietly.

“There weren’t any, Sirius,” Narcissa said softly, glad her cousin wasn’t denying it, at least. He was stubborn and refused to believe a lot of things, but she’ll fight hard to get him to see the truth. Someone should. “He was left there completely defenceless.”

That wasn’t fully true. Hadrian had his magic. He’s hurt people with it, Narcissa was sure of it.

But he couldn’t control it until much later. And if someone magical would’ve actually shown up meaning harm? The boy wouldn’t have stood a chance.

It was a miracle nobody tracked him down to exact revenge. 

Something in Sirius broke.

“We really messed up, didn’t we?” he muttered in a downcast tone.

“You did,” Narcissa said quietly. It shouldn’t have been like this. 

“I had it all planned out, you know,” he wasn’t looking at Cissy, but kept his eyes firmly fixed on his untouched meal. “We were going to have so much fun. Bond, you know. And now he hates me.”

“I’m not sure what you expect from me, Sirius,” Narcissa said coldly, even if a part of her felt sorry for the man in front of her. “You didn’t make a good first impression on Hadrian, you know. The first time you saw him, you burst into our home and demanded things from him. Did you even apologize?”

Sirius flinched and shook his head.

No, he didn’t.

Not once.

“You hurt him that time, you know,” she revealed. “He was upset and spent four days locked in the library, barely speaking to anyone. Because the very first time you all met, you had the audacity to demand more from a child who’s already given enough. And for what reason?”

“He’s… because he’s family and-”

“Family does not abandon one another for a decade, and then come back when it’s convenient,” Narcissa reminded harshly. 

“Lucius manipulated him!” the wizard burst out. “Why else would Harry change his name and become this… this cold slytherin?!”

“Lucius,” Narcissa snapped, “did nothing Hadrian did not want. It was a mutual agreement. And why would a child continue bearing the name of a father who’s abandoned him?” her voice no longer held any softness in it. Sirius may be her cousin - her favourite cousin once upon a time - but Lucius was her husband, and she will defend him until her last breath. She would not let any insults fly. “And there is nothing wrong with Hadrian being a slytherin. Nothing. As for being cold… did you expect him to greet you with joy and hugs?” What an incredulous thought. Hadrian shied away from touch as if it would burn him. It was ridiculous to think he’d greet strangers in that way. “The child is traumatized. He’s been through hell. And let me tell you something right now, cousin dearest,” she leaned in, pleased to see Sirius leaning back in alarm and fear. “If you dare to interfere with his healing, his well-being or his life - I will do everything in my power to destroy you.”

Sirius’ face paled drastically.

Cissy may bear the name of Malfoy now, but she was still Black by blood and just as scary, when she wanted to be.

And she always carried out her threats, Sirius knew that from personal experience.

“I’d never hurt Harry,” he whispered.

“You already have. And this continuous nonsense from Potter, along with Dumbledore… how do you think it’s affecting him?”

Sirius winced. “I told James to cool it. He wouldn’t listen.”

“And now he’s in Azkaban,” Narcissa replied, not bothering to keep a smirk from her face. “Hadrian is now my family, Sirius. More than you are. And I will not allow anyone to hurt that child any more than he already has been hurt. Do you understand me?”

Sirius started nodding frantically. He knew that tone well; if he did something untoward, Narcissa would obliterate him. Most likely literally.

“The only reason I invited you here today is because you were once my favourite cousin, Sirius-”

“Am I no longer one? You wound me, Cissy.”

“-and to hear your side, which only consisted of excuses so far.” The wizard winced. “And to see if you have any involvement in this insane campaign against Hadrian.”

“I told you I do not! James went mad with this, hell bent on getting Harry back, but nothing he’s done had worked-”

“Because everything Potter had tried so far was either harassment or illegal,” Narcissa pointed out coldly. “Make no mistake; I hold no warm feelings towards your… friend. I’m glad he’s in Azkaban, because he deserves it and I’d sleep better if he stayed there indefinitely. But… so far you’ve been silent and haven’t intervened beyond your infamous break-in, so I was… curious to see where you stand, cousin, and if you’ll cause trouble for Hadrian in the future.”

“I want what’s best for him!”

“So do I.”

They stared at each other for the longest time, until Sirius broke the gaze.

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Sirius asked quietly, after a moment of silence. He wanted Harry in his life. His only godson. But it seemed ruined beyond repair already.

“I don’t know,” Narcissa answered honestly. She doubted it would ever happen; she knew from her husband that Hadrian swore vengeance, and she really couldn’t blame him. “Hadrian doesn’t seem like the forgiving type. But if you ever want to have any sort of relationship with him, I suggest sorting out your priorities first, Sirius. And perhaps seeing a Mind Healer.”

Sirius startled. “I don’t need-”

“You do.”

Sirius clearly was having a hard time processing the information. No one has ever suggested a Mind Healer to him before. Or had they?

Amelia said something similar after she stopped screaming at him and then promptly relieved him of his duties, but he thought it was just to insult him…

“If I… If I am to see a… healer,” he started carefully. “Can you promise to let me speak with Harry?”

Narcissa pursed her lips.

“No,” she said, and Sirius' face fell. “Not until I see progress from you. And not until Hadrian himself agrees.” She leaned forward, just so her cousin could see how serious she was. “And not until you leave Dumbledore and his Order.”

“What?! How could I-”

“This is the price you must pay to have any sort of relationship with your godchild, Sirius. I will not allow Dumbledore to hurt him through you. This is completely in your hands now.”

The wizard had a look of constipation on his face.

Why was everything so complicated?

“You don’t have to decide now,” Narcissa said, standing up. She’s done her part. “You have time, but it is not forever. I’d suggest finally thinking for yourself, cousin. It’s been awhile.”

Without waiting for a reply, Narcissa turned on her heel and left her cousin to ponder in silence.

Merlin knows Sirius needed someone to shake some sense into him.

“I had the most enlightening conversation with my cousin today,” Narcissa said as she arrived home and greeted her husband in his office. 

“Cousin?” Lucius asked, confused. “Don’t tell me-”

“Sirius, yes.”

“What were you thinking? That man could be dangerous! He didn’t do anything, did he? Because if he did, I’ll-”

“Relax, dear,” Narcissa chuckled and kissed her husband to shut him up. He could be rather overprotective, forgetting that she was more than capable of cursing someone silly. “I’m perfectly fine, but might’ve broken Sirius.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. He, apparently, wants a relationship with Hadrian-”

“Absolutely not.”

“-which is exactly what I said, unless he sees a Mind Healer-” Lucius snorted, “- gets Hadrian’s approval, and leaves Dumbledore and his Order.”

“You realize this will never happen, right, dear?”

Narcissa smirked. “Oh, I think he’ll try. He seems to genuinely want a relationship with Hadrian-”

“Which is absolutely ridiculous, love. Hadrian hates them. He literally, and without any remorse, had his father locked up in Azkaban. What makes you think Black will be any different?”

Narcissa gave him a secretive smile. “The fact he’s even considering my offer. Either way, it's one less person to worry about. I’m not saying it will work, however. Hadrian is anything but forgiving.”

Lucius huffed. “Oh, don’t I know it. He still hasn’t spoken to Draco.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Still? Well… I’m sure they just need time.”

Lucius nodded absently as he reached for his already cold tea, furrowing his nose in disgust. He completely forgot he had it made.

“Perhaps, love. At least Draco said he apologised. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, really. He’s lucky he wasn’t cursed; Hadrian had been pushed a bit too far that day. It’s a wonder how he kept it together so well.”

Narcissa hummed worriedly. She didn’t want her son to be hurt either. She reprimanded Draco, reminded him just what kind of home Hadrian had come from, and told him to be more considerate next time. To not burn bridges he can’t rebuild.

Draco can be shortsighted at times, but she believed her son had a good heart and meant well.

Narcissa also sent the poor boy some cupcakes he loved so much. Hadrian was incredibly grateful, too, and added that she didn’t have to feel obligated to do this. It hurt her heart to read it.

It hurt that Hadrian believed he was just an obligation, because he wasn’t. He was theirs, their family now. 

Narcissa swore to send random care packages more often right at that moment.

She was determined to make the boy feel welcome and at home.

“Draco isn’t used to sharing our attention with someone else,” Narcissa reminded gently. “Perhaps he felt threatened, but all is solved now. He’s a smart boy; he understands what’s going on. As for Hadrian… I hate to see a child being treated like this, Lucius. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Yes… I’ve been fearing he’d cave under pressure,” Lucius voiced his worries as well. “However, he remains strong. Annoying Severus along the way.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. He told Hadrian not to walk alone anywhere, for any reason, ever. But it seems our slippery little snake is determined to make Severus grey before his time. He keeps slipping off.”

“Where does he go to?”

“I don’t know,” Lucius admitted, frowning. “To think of it, we met Hadrian coming back to the common room just slightly after the curfew the other day. He was alone and no one knows where he went. Young Nott told Severus that after leaving McGonagall’s office Hadrian threatened to curse him if Theodore didn’t leave him alone. He spend hours who knows where.”

“That’s slightly concerning, especially if everyone’s as volatile as you say they are. Should I say something?”

Lucius shook his head. “No. Hadrian can handle himself. He’s used to relying on himself only, you know this.”

“It shouldn’t be like this.” Narcissa shook her head. “He has us now.”

“He does, but we can’t force him to trust us. It needs time.”

“When did you become so wise?” Narcissa smirked at her husband, proud of what a wonderful man he’s become. She was so lucky to have him.

“Since you’ve become my wife, love,” Lucius smirked right back. “Did Black say anything else?” he asked, returning to their previous topic.

“Nothing we haven’t already known. I just pointed out just how massively they messed up. The only surprising thing he mentioned was that he asked Potter to leave Hadrian be.”

Lucius hummed, thoughtful. Perhaps there was some potential in Black’s current predicament.

“Perhaps in time, he could provide intel on Dumbledore.”

“We’re not that far in yet, dear.”

“Yes, but if he really wants to speak with Hadrian, he’ll do whatever we ask of him.”

“Only if the boy agrees,” Narcissa pointed out, but she too could see the potential. It would give them a massive advantage if they gained knowledge on Dumbledore’s next move.

“Do you honestly believe we could force him to do anything?” Lucius asked, and Narcissa laughed. 

“Good Merlin, no. I think we’re just lucky he’s on our side, dear.”

“How right you are.”

After all, the thought of grown-up, enraged and powerful Hadrian Peverell against them was terrifying enough. 

No need to make it reality.

(Somewhere in his cell, James Charlus Potter was shaking)

James Potter was terrified.

He was furious.

He’s never been humiliated so much in his life.

And now he was in Azkaban.

He!

One of the greatest Aurors in the Ministry! 

And it was the fault of one Lucius Malfoy. That filthy Death Eater will pay for this dearly, once he gets out of this hellhole.

Harry will too.

James couldn’t believe his own son would dare to do such a thing to him, his father!

No matter.

Albus will get him out.

And once he is out, he’ll get Harry back and teach that little unruly bastard some discipline. He’ll make him into the light saviour he was supposed to be.

James shuddered as the dementors drew near and memories of coming home and finding Lily dead forced themselves into the forefront of his mind.

He crumbled onto the floor as grief and pain engulfed him.

You deserve this, a shadow of Lily spat at him, and James couldn’t help but scream.

He was living a nightmare.

Harry knocked on the door, mind going haywire with excitement. 

He couldn’t wait to learn something new from a shady professor who was hiding very interesting things.

He couldn’t wait to unravel his secrets. And, of course, finally finding out what’s behind the trapdoor. Unless he finds out by himself first.

All in all, it ought to be a very interesting lesson(s).

“Come in,” a voice called, and Harry hid his excited grin. It wouldn’t do well to look like an overexcited puppy.

The wards flared the second the door closed. They felt powerful.

“Good evening, Mr Peverell. Come sit.”

Harry obediently took a seat in front of the professor's desk, surprised to see a steaming cup of tea already waiting for him.

“I took the liberty of making us some drinks. I hope it’s to your taste.”

“How do I know it’s not poisoned?” Harry asked, even though it was incredibly rude to ask your host - and a professor - if the tea was poisoned.

However, he was met with a chuckle from the man.

“How indeed. This might as well be our first lesson. Do you know how to check your food and drinks for… meddling?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know the specific spell, but I usually let my magic do the work.”

It’s not even that hard. His magic instantly pics up on something that shouldn't be there. Harry has no idea if it would work on non-magical things, such as muggle poison, but anything else is fair game.

“Oh? Well, that’s certainly interesting. The easiest one would be detego. It means to uncover, lay bare. Watch.” Quirrell made a round gesture and said the incantation. His drink glowed blue. “Blue means it’s safe to drink. Now, if it glows red, it means something’s in it that shouldn't be. A more complicated one would be patefacio it visum, meaning to expose. Observe.” Once again, the professor made a movement over his cup, but this time the light was white. “It depends on the spell,” Quirrell explained. “With this particular one, white means it’s clean, not meddled with. Any other colour means it was tampered with. The darker the colour, the worse the tampering. If it glows black, it’s lethal.”

“Cool,” Harry muttered, because it was bloody cool. His magic didn’t show him any cool flashing lights. “Does it only work with magical tampering?”

Quirrell looked thoughtful. “It should work with muggle tampering as well, if that’s what you’re asking. Anything that shouldn’t already be there would emit a light. Now try it.”

Harry pulled out his wand and repeated both spells under the watchful eye of the professor, who seemed genuinely pleased with the results.

“Splendid. Perhaps now we may even enjoy the beverages presented?”

Harry nodded.

Surprisingly, the tea was exactly to his taste. It was simply brilliant.

"Ah, I see you enjoy this particular blend?" Harry nodded eagerly.  "It's one of my favourites too."

His eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously at the slightly too-pleased grin the professor was wearing.

"Tell me, Mr Peverell, is there something specific you're interested in?" 

Harry shrugged.

“Everything is of interest to me, professor. Magic is… fascinating, isn’t it?”

Quirrell got a longing look in his eyes. “Yes it is, Mr Peverell. It is.”

“Which means that every area of magic is of interest to me.”

The professor’s gaze sharpened. “Even the… less legal ones?”

“How can someone restrict magic? Make it illegal? It’s not property. It’s… it feels like a crime against magic itself, doesn’t it?”

Because it did. Magic was an… entity, of sorts. They thanked Lady Magic; they called upon her to judge them, to uphold their vows.

Why would it not be alive or sentient, to a point?

How could someone try to restrict such a gift? They should be on their knees, thanking Lady Magic for allowing them to use her gift still. Although, as far as Harry knew, Magic itself hasn’t directly intervened before… or had she?

Quirrell’s eyes shone bright red at that moment.

“Mr Peverell… while you are not wrong, per say, for saying that, I heavily advise you from repeating this to anyone else apart from those you trust. Especially now.”

“Why?”

“Because some people may see it as you going against the Ministry. Against their laws. It’s a very delicate situation-”

“What’s delicate about them wanting to restrict magic? Something they have no right to?” Harry hissed in anger, unable to control his frustration. 

The man looked exceptionally pleased and then terribly painted. It came out as a grimace.

“Magic deemed dangerous by the Ministry is restricted or outright banned. Mostly banned, actually. You should know this, Mr Peverell.”

He huffed in annoyance. “It’s unfair.” That sounded too much like a whine.

“That it is,” the professor said softly.

“Then why is nobody doing anything about it? Does no one realize the damage this could do?” Harry asked, incredulously. 

What he learned in his very short life, that he should never take something for granted. That everything could be taken away in the blink of an eye; and why should magic be any different?

What if this entity decides they’re no longer worth it?

Harry couldn’t imagine his life without magic. He’d die.

“Mr Peverell,” the professor leaned in, getting impossible closer, as if to whisper a secret. “You’re not the first one to think like this. You may not have been in this world a long time, but you seem to have a grasp even adults lack after decades of living. Which I applaud, by the way, but you must be extremely careful with such opinions, and voicing them out loud. Certain individuals… I’m sure you can understand some opinions are dangerous out in the public. Especially for you, as many people mean you harm.”

“Do you wish me harm, professor?” Harry asked cheekly, but his eyes remained observant. He wasn’t a fool to think Quirrell was an incompetent idiot. No, he had something much more powerful hidden inside him. He could be a threat.

Quirrell smiled.

“I do not. You remind me of myself in my youth, in fact. Brimming with questions and so eager to change the world.” The wizard looked slightly nostalgic.

And then something absolutely bizarre happened: Harry’s scar tingled.

The boy froze. 

What the fuck was that?

Why would his scar tingle?

I mean, it’s a scar. Scars don’t do that.

“I’d like to give you a few of my personal books to read,” Quirrell continued, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. “If it’s not something you like, we’ll move onto other things, but I’d really love to hear your opinion first. I’ll send them to you via house-elf, to your dorm.”

Harry nodded.

He really didn’t want to carry most-likely at least half-illegal books on his person, with Dumbledore snooping around.

“I’ll put some spells on them to disguise them as something else, but I believe it goes without saying that keeping it within the walls of Slytherin would be best.”

“Of course, professor.” He wasn’t an idiot. However, one thing was still bugging him: “I understand that some opinions need to be kept quiet. However, why does allowing Magic to flourish is such a… banned topic? I mean, everyone uses magic. Everyone. Why wouldn’t everyone fight to allow it to be used free? Especially if it’s helping the society.” 

Even healing spells and potions were banned, because they were deemed dark, for some reason. He asked healer Dippitt about it, when she was prescribing him dozens of different nasty potions, and asked if there was a faster way, to which she answered yes. Just got his hopes up, because her next sentence was, they are banned now, nothing I can do.

Bloody hypocrisy, if you’d asked him.

Quirrell looked amused, for some reason.

He better not be laughing at him, Harry thought.

“This topic is frowned upon in our society, Mr Peverell, for one simple reason.” The man looked eager and hungry for something Harry couldn’t understand, but he’ll be damned if he leaves this office without answers. 

Harry held his breath, waiting for the professor to satisfy his unrelenting curiosity, but the man seemed content on prolonging his anguish.

“Well?” he snapped impatiently, ignoring the satisfied smirk the older man suddenly possessed.

“This is one of the things the Dark Lord had fiercely fought for in the last wizarding war.”

The silence reigned after, and Harry could hear his thundering heart.

But of course, how could he forget?

The Dark Lord.

The more he learned about that man, the more fascinated Harry became.

“Nowadays people are afraid of being accused of sympathising with the Dark Lord and his ideals, so they keep their opinions quiet,” disgust coloured the wizard’s voice.

““Pathetic-”” the man stopped and stared at Harry, as they both said the same thing at the same time.

Harry felt his cheeks redden.

“Quite,” the man smirked, looking exceptionally pleased. “However, I have a feeling that you, Mr Peverell, are going to change things around here.”

Harry didn’t bestow the man with an answer, just offered a secretive smile.

Of course he wanted to change things. He was just a bit too young for most of them.

Later, in bed, as he flipped through the books he received, Harry wondered if he should’ve pressed the man for more information about the Dark Lord.

Quirrell seemed to have hidden depths. The fact that his personality did a complete 180 when speaking with him privately and his exceptionally insightful concepts led Harry to believe there was something more going on.

Was Quirrell one of the Dark Lord’s followers?

Why else would he adhere to his ideals (or speak oh him so reverently), share them with Harry and even offer his guidance?

Was he trying to recruit him?

Harry had a feeling Quirrell wasn’t offering all this out of the goodness of his heart. Sure, Harry had some blackmail on the man - he should be furious! Or suspicious, at least, but the only thing Harry got from the professor was amusement and eagerness.

Which was weird.

Unless Quirrell wanted something from him. But what could that be?

And now the books… Quirrell said they were his personal books. The ones he read in his youth that weren’t biassed as hell, like most books written now.

They were clearly well loved, if the worn corners were any indicator, but were still in an exceptionally good condition for something written decades ago.

He saw numerous notes scribbled in most of the pages, as he flipped through the first book.

Introduction to the Darkest Arts: guidebook vol. 1

Harry couldn’t wait to actually read them all himself.

However, there was something odd in the first tome Harry was holding.

He brushed his finger against the letters written in elegant cursive, frowning in confusion when the initials didn’t add up to what he knew about the professor.

Perhaps the professor bought it second-hand? Unless he changed his name sometime later, which was ridi- well, not really. Harry himself changed his name.

Now was not the time to be a hypocrite.

However, something told him that the initials had nothing to do with professor Quirrell. Hell, Harry was having a hard time understanding why he cared about them at all, but… it felt familiar? Somehow?

Has he seen them before?

“Who are you?” Harry whispered, as something deep in his soul was telling him he should know this person. That this was important.

That he shouldn’t dismiss it. Not yet.

“I’ll figure it out,” Harry muttered, frowning in confusion as to why he felt compelled to just stare at the elegant scrawl. “I don’t know why this feels important, but my intuition is usually on point.” 

Harry ran his finger through the letters one more time, deciding to leave this for another day, even if he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling inside of him.

~T.M.Riddle~