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Chapter Text

Don’t lie, Hadrian.

Those words were the bane of his existence. He didn’t remember when exactly everything started but it slowly grew into this. He couldn’t name it, didn’t know what it was, and asking was not an option anymore. 

The first time he asked what those strange smells were, his mother looked at him in surprise and told him that dinner didn’t smell funny at all and she was testing new spices. It wasn’t it. It didn’t smell like dinner in their kitchen, more like flowers. Hadrian never stopped smelling them from that moment. With time he started linking the smells to people. His father smelled like some kind of wood, his mother like the pink flowers in the back of their garden. Little Anne had a very similar smell but hers was more delicate. His older brother, Charles smelled like the paste for brooms—heavy and a bit like lemons. He tried to tell them but everyone laughed because oh, yes, Charlie spends too much time polishing his broom and playing Quidditch. Anne told him it was the new perfume Mummy bought her on their trip to Diagon Alley. That was not it, but Hadrian didn’t want to be ridiculed.

When he asked about the lights and blurry shapes he saw, his mother didn’t take him seriously. Hadrian was told to limit his imagination to his games with other children because, if he continued playing by himself like that and telling everyone of his imagined powers, someone would start making fun of him. He tried to tell her it was for real and she just patted his head telling him to go play with Anne or Charlie. Hadrian tried again with his father. I am too tired to play with you, Harry. Why don’t you go to your brother? He always loved playing superheroes. He kept trying to make them understand, and it took a few more mentions specifically about blurry shapes for Hadrian to be taken to St. Mungo’s.

The thing was, his Healer actually believed him from the beginning. He also examined his eyes and Hadrian got a brand new pair of glasses. It only allowed him to see the shape of the blurs more clearly. And it wasn’t as blurry as he thought. More like something invisible in the air, which was curving it around its own shape. It was difficult to describe. When two blurs met, their meeting point was colored. The Healer seemed to be interested and even asked if Hadrian smelled anything strange or felt like something was touching him, so he told him about some people having certain scents.

“It’s a sensitivity to magic. Some people can smell it, others see it and there were few cases of wizards being able to touch it. But it’s rarely the same. I have a patient who can see magical auras around people and objects. Merlin supposedly could see and touch magic. I remember a girl who could taste magic, that was unusual but not unheard of. It’s not uncommon among pureblood families to have gifts like that. It can be weak and barely there or overwhelming; it doesn’t have to be just one sense affected by it either,” said Healer Boot. “It’s a great gift, magic must really love you.”

His parents didn’t think it was a great gift. When Healer Boot suggested getting him tested more thoroughly, they clung to their belief that Hadrian was lying. Why would he even lie? He didn’t like attention, he didn’t want to be noticed or be special. It just happened to him. Nothing like that mattered to his mother and father, who berated him on the way back. It was humiliating and he felt like he made some spectacle of himself, of which he should be ashamed. He didn’t want to know what Healer Boot was thinking about him now.

“It’s not acceptable to tell people things like that, Hadrian,” his father said. “Healers’ Offices are not places for a kid to mess around. You convinced him enough to believe you. What would happen if we got you tested and it showed nothing? It would make me a laughing stock among the Aurors, son.”

The real damage was done when Charles overheard them talking about it late in the afternoon. He didn’t wait to tell the Weasley twins about Hadrian’s imagination and supposed lies. Being who they were, they couldn’t hold back teasing, so within a week the rest of the Weasleys and even the Longbottoms knew.

“What’s new in the Land of Imagination, Harry?”

“Are you Merlin yet?”

“What have you seen today, Harrykins?”

“Don’t you head to the light, weirdo!”

“Go away, you freak!”

It was awful, so he ended up spending less and less time with them. He wished grandmother hadn’t stopped talking to his parents a year ago. She would know what to do. The only good thing about this whole situation was finding a new hobby—going through the Potter’s library. At first it was because of boredom, and he enjoyed the cool pictures in the books, but then he started to like it more and more. He didn’t find much about magical sensitivity, but there was a surprisingly large amount of books about magical beasts, legends, and plants. It was infinitely better than playing with the Weasleys or his brother.

*

“The lady in the shop looked at me weirdly when she found this book on the shelf for me, so it had better be good. Your present. Catch, kiddo!”

Hadrian almost didn’t catch the book thrown to him. He dropped his Little Guide To The Most Magical Beasts Of Europe to do it, and it fell on the living room carpet. His mother wasn't very happy, because she was already nagging Sirius when Hadrian grabbed the new addition to his ever-growing collection to have a closer look.

“You should be much more careful! Something might have happened, Sirius!”

“Like what?”

“It could have hit Hadrian! You shouldn’t throw books at him!”

Hadrian didn’t pay much attention, for the new book was more interesting. It didn’t look like something about magic, and the plain, white cover wasn’t leather but stiff cardboard. Muggle then. But what did he want with a muggle book? 

He knew his mother was a Muggleborn and the only witch in her family. It must have been boring, because magic was for sure more… more everything. He loved magic, anything magical was fascinating and worth his attention. Being around wizards, watching them casting, reading about spells, beasts and stories, and seeing moving pictures was great! So why had Sirius got him a muggle book? The magic in them wasn’t even real. Hadrian had read a bunch of fairy tales when he was younger, and his mother read to him countless times about Cinderella, Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel and Peter Pan. He fell asleep very easily from boredom.

The Prince. Hadrian browsed through quickly. His books about the magical world had pictures in them and sentences were short and simple which annoyed him sometimes to no end. He was nine, not stupid. The thought about reading something different excited him and he looked up to ask but Sirius was still occupied by his mother. Moony came to see what was happening so it wasn’t going to end soon. Remus could be even worse than his mother with mothering.

But… the book. It didn’t look like a book for children. Could Sirius have bought the wrong book? He wouldn’t put it past him, Sirius forgot many important things on a daily basis and was quite easily distracted.

Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince was written on the first page, and under it The Ends Justifies the Means. The beginning of the first chapter confirmed the fact that it wasn’t meant for children. Oh, this was bad. He remembered his father getting back from work furious one day, and almost yelling to Sirius and Remus: They can’t say that this justified the means, Padfood! It’s simply wrong and evil! 

James Potter was a man with a very strong dislike for dark and evil.

Hadrian couldn’t remember how many people were evil and bad or how many things were wrong and forbidden. Too many for sure. He, Charlie, and Anne couldn’t go to grandmother Dorea’s house because The Blacks were sometimes invited there for tea! The Blacks were synonyms of dark and evil in James’ book even though grandmother was a Black until she married grandfather. She hadn’t liked his father saying that or commenting on her books and family, so she still refused to visit them. Hadrian missed his grandma dearly, but he could understand her situation. He wouldn’t like to be constantly insulted either.

He stared at the book. He didn’t want to part with it, just because it was something his father wouldn’t want him to read. The first chapter had looked so promising! It was hard to understand, yes, but he preferred reading one sentence three times than finishing a book in one hour.

“What did you get, Harry?”

“A book about a Prince, Mum. It looks promising!”

When his mother’s face lit up and she started gushing about the adventures of some Little Prince, planets, and really good morals, he didn’t correct her. 

Maybe it was wrong, but it was tiring asking questions and getting told that you were too young or that it was dark and you should never dabble with dark, Harry! That's why he didn't ask about half the things that caught his attention. If he would go on about anything, he would be sent upstairs without dessert or his parents would ground him. It happened a few times, especially after the fiasco with Healer Boot. Also, they never told him why something was dark or why he shouldn't ask.

That was why he preferred grandma. He received a clear explanation for every question. And that was how he knew that his parents didn’t follow traditions, so they didn’t get along with the Blacks and many other pureblood families. To tell you the truth, Hadrian had never met children from families other than the ones his father said were Light. Not that he was a social person at all. He preferred to spend time alone when he had the opportunity to free himself from his older brother and younger sister. It was rarely quiet in the house.

He got up from the sofa and picked up the Little Guide To The Most Magical Beasts Of Europe, slipping The Prince under it. It would be his secret. Nobody looked in his room for things he shouldn't have, because where would he get something like that from?

*

One of Hadrian’s greatest secrets, beside his copy of The Prince and his magical sensitivity, was his aptitude for wandless magic. It’s not like he could do anything more complex than a couple of basic spells, but it was already more than his siblings. They wouldn’t think about it under James’ roof after a big talk about how illegal it was to teach wandless magic and how dangerous something like that could be. 

It started like The Talks often started—with Hadrian’s question, this time provoked by Anne’s first accidental magic. She was seven at the time, which was quite late for the first manifestation of magic, but the Healers always said there was nothing wrong with her and she was for sure magical, if simply late bloomer. A week after her seventh birthday Anne levitated her teddy bear, but when she tried to do it again, nothing happened. Was it possible to control accidental magic and levitate something or summon things with it? James didn’t waste time telling him that it was possible with wandless magic, but it was also difficult and illegal to teach children before they went to Hogwarts. On top of that it was quite dangerous, associated with Dark families and Dark magic, and therefore it fell into the same category as everything dark – don’t even think about it, Hadrian.

If someone bothered to ask Hadrian for his opinion, he would have said it didn’t make any sense. Like Machiavelli wrote, never was anything great achieved without danger and it couldn’t be that dangerous. His father was right about one thing only, it was difficult to learn. 

It took hours to make Wingardium Leviosa work, but it was so worth it. Hadrian adored this feeling of accomplishment and pure happiness. Each next spell was a bit easier than the last and the feeling of magic channeling through his body was amazing. Adding to that, he discovered how his magical sensitivity helped in the progress and understood it a bit better.  A simple Reparo left repaired things in this distortion of air for a few minutes. With Wingardium Leviosa it left immediately after ending the charm. Could he see spells? Or was it the magic behind them? He tried to make the distortion more clear in shape and the resulting Wingardium Leviosa was so overpowered, it raised his book a lot higher than he intended. It was so amazing, he laughed.

How could something like that be wrong? It was sad that he couldn’t talk about it with anybody at home. Maybe Grandmother, but he hadn’t seen her since Anne’s fifth birthday and that was six years ago. She never wrote to them, maybe because Lily or James would read the post before giving it to any of them. His only hope was Hogwarts. He had prayed to all things above to sort him next month into a different House than his brother’s. Without him Hadrian could finally make friends of his own. With a bit of luck, nobody would call him a liar, prank him, or try to push him around. He had so many questions to find answers for in the library, away from his family’s watchful eyes. It was comical how eager he was to break most, if not all, of the Potter’s rules. 

For all of the Marauders stories told to them by James or Sirius, Charles and Anne were surprisingly good at following rules while still being loud troublemakers. On a good day Hadrian could avoid being pranked but from time to time they got him anyway. It wasn’t harmful. He could live with pink hair or chocolate charmed to taste like dirt. What rubbed him the wrong way was Charles gloating about tripping some Slytherins back in Hogwarts or destroying a second year Hufflepuffs’ homework by putting a dungbomb under their table. It was unnecessarily mean. James and Sirius often laughed it off, while Lily didn’t want to hear about it. She never openly said it was bullying but Hadrian couldn’t see it differently. His brother’s pranks in Hogwarts made him a bully, and while James and Sirius assured him it was fine because it was just for laughs, it was not.

*

Their mother took them to London on September 1^st, because their father had to be at work early. James worked a lot, often long hours into the night. They were used to it at his point, so it wasn’t disappointing for Hadrian, but Charles looked let down. Anne was making a fuss again about wanting to go to Hogwarts now, not next year. She did it every year since Charles started school and it only became more embarrassing each time.

Hadrian ignored most of his mother’s standard speech about not making trouble and being good to each other because now they were going to be close. Physically, maybe, but Hadrian didn’t plan on going to his brother for advice. Being as far as it was possible from each other would be more preferable. And the part about not making trouble? If he could roll his eyes… 

“And Harry, try to make a lot of friends. Someone you can talk to or invite over. I know you don’t like Ron, but Neville is really wonderful and sweet. How about sitting with him in the train? It’s good to have a familiar face around you,” she said.

“I will try, mum. Maybe I will meet somebody new?”

“For sure, sweetie, but be careful about it.”

He agreed only to ease her mind and said his goodbyes. He knew he didn’t like Neville very much also, he lacked backbone and was painfully shy. Longbottom wasn’t as bad as Ron, or Charlie teamed with twins, but he always stood behind their backs, staying silent. It was almost like he was afraid of being the next target. It irked Hadrian.

The train ride to Hogwarts turned out not to be as magical as his parents made it to be. He successfully avoided sitting with anyone he knew, only saying hi in passing to the Bones heiress and her friend, and found an empty compartment of his own. He wasn’t alone for long though. He had just got to the second chapter of his new book when a boy with combed back dirty blond hair opened the door.

“Hello, are those seats free? The compartments are mostly full so my friend and I don’t have anywhere to sit.”

“Hi, sure, why not?” Hadrian was awarded a wide smile.

He instantly noticed their high-quality robes and shared aristocratic facial features, with both sporting the same high cheekbones and Roman noses. The second boy had different coloring with straight black hair reaching his shoulders and a darker skin but they could be distant family. All of the purebloods were somewhat related and Hadrian didn’t think they could be Muggleborns. He knew he looked fairly similar himself.

“Anthony Goldstein, heir to the Noble House of Goldstein,” the boy introduced himself and extended his hand, having taken a seat opposite him. “And this is Michael Corner of the Noble House of Corner.”

“Hadrian Potter of the Noble House of Potter, well meet,” answered Hadrian and grasped Anthony’s hand. He couldn’t let this opportunity go. Goldsteins were a family of famous Unspeakables. Almost every Unspeakable was in Ravenclaw and this was the House Hadrian wanted to be sorted into. Making friends with him now could be beneficial, but he wasn’t good at that. If one of them turned out to be a social butterfly or a chatterbox, it would be a miracle.

“Are you reading an Ancient Runes textbook?” Michael Corner asked. Thank Circle.

“Yes, I find them really interesting. I know we won’t start it until the third year but I already read a book or two about Runes and it’s such a broad subject. It’s amazing, and there isn’t anything you can do with spells that can’t be done with Runes,” he told them, honestly fascinated with the possibilities. He hadn’t tried activating any Runes but was curious to see if his magical sensitivity would make it easier.

“Are you planning on being sorted into Ravenclaw?”

“I mean, I would love to. I don’t think I will be sorted into Gryffindor.”

“Potters are usually in Gryffindor, aren’t they?” asked Anthony, sounding curious. Older families tended to be sorted in the same House.

“My parents were. And my grandfather, but my grandmother’s family always landed in Slytherin.”

“Really? I can’t imagine a Potter marrying someone from Slytherin!”

“I believe it was a small scandal, but my grandmother was a Black, Dorea Black. She isn’t from the main line so maybe that’s why it isn’t well known.”

“Probably. My great-grandmother was a Black, I’m curious what our relation—”

“Anthony is a bit obsessed with finding family relations and possible cousins since he is an only child. Don’t tell him more because he has this huge genealogy book with family trees and he will find you there,” teased Michael and Hadrian laughed.

“I think I will add to the fire. My godfather is Sirius Black, who is a family friend of House Potter.”

“Oh, I had heard about him from my father! He sometimes works with the Auror Department. Do you want to be an Auror too? I mean, your father is the Deputy Head of the Department right now, and your grandfather was the Head so it’s almost like a family business? Also, let’s  call each other by name.”

“Call me Hadrian then. My brother wants to be but I don’t. I think curse-breaking or warding would be more rewarding to me. Even research sounds better.”

It was wonderful, how easy talking with them was. Michael was enthusiastic, he asked a lot of questions and prodded for answers, but wasn’t in any way forceful. Anthony was more subdued but still attentive. Circle, both of them seemed interested in getting to know him and liked reading and learning about new branches of magic. Hadrian hoped they would be in one dormitory because he could see them getting along for seven years of schooling.

The best was that they didn’t laugh when he told them he didn’t have an owl, because he was uneasy with birds. Charles teased him for weeks after their visit to the Eeylops Owl Emporium, where Hadrian didn’t want to touch an owl or let any sit on his arm. Instead of this, Anthony told him about his fear of big dogs and Michael admitted to being terrified of rodents and big bodies of water.

Hadrian was almost jealous of their friendship when they arrived and Hagrid told them to get on the boats.  Anthony held Michael’s hand throughout the entire ride without complaining or making any kind of deal about him shaking. They both helped him out on the ground when Michael climbed out, pale and unsure on his feet. Not a single mean sentence was uttered and Hadrian longed for this kind of accepting relationship.

He looked around his year mates. A lot of them were from old families. He knew Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbott, but he recognized a few more. Malfoy, Greengrass… Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom looked awfully like their fathers. He had seen pictures in the Daily Prophet. Malfoy and Weasley in one year was a sign of many riots to come. One could only hope to avoid them completely, but it was close to impossible when they were stuck in one castle for seven years.

Minerva McGonagall led them to the Great Hall for the first time. She was a tall woman in her fifties, and spoke with a Scottish accent, a no-nonsense tone and assurance that demanded respect and attention. She met all the expectations of a woman who had been arousing fear in many generations of students, and Hadrian thought that disobedience towards her would be really foolish. 

He wasn’t overly in awe about the Great Halls’ ceiling, because of how many times he was told about it. It didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy the astonishment on the new first years’ faces. Michael was stunned into silence and Hadrian could hear Ronald talking about fighting trolls. He couldn’t believe his naivety. Percival Weasley had told him what the Sorting looked like when he asked two years ago, Ronald clearly must have asked someone less believable… like the Weasley twins. It seemed like their idea of a prank.

Some girl loudly announced how she had read in Hogwarts’ History that the ceiling was charmed to look like the sky by the Founders. When he wanted to turn his head, McGonagall cleared her throat, which made him look straight at her. As the Deputy Headmistress, her role was to welcome them and explain how the Sorting worked. While she was doing so, Hadrian focused his eyes on the Sorting Hat, which soon started singing. Colors bloomed almost immediately. He wanted to look at the ceiling, but it would be rude, so he satisfied himself with watching the sorting of Hannah Abbott. When the Hat was put on her head, the disturbance in the air started to appear and then took clear shape. Curious. It meant that the Sorting Hat had to be at least a bit sentient, for it to choose when to use magic.

In the end, he spent nearly twenty minutes on the stool wearing the Sorting Hat and arguing fiercely. It didn’t even consider putting him in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Instead of that, he was stuck in a nasty hat-stall between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Nobody told him the Hat was such a noisy chatterbox.

“Cunning and resourceful, huh? A brilliant mind, but you lack honesty and have a different kind of bravery, for which Gryffindor doesn’t care. Quick wit, I see it. Your love for magic too. A lot of ambition added on top of it.”

He sure hoped he was as different from the stereotypical Gryffindor as was possible.

“You could be truly great in Slytherin, Hadrian. You are meant to be great. It would help you on your way to become magnificent.”

He simply couldn’t go to the Snake Pit. It was not personal, but his family would probably do what Sirius’ family did to him, even if they wouldn’t admit it to the world and live in denial. While Hadrian didn’t want this kind of trouble, he could admit he would fit there nicely. Maybe the beginning would be turbulent with him being from a Light family, but eventually he could show them he was different. He knew it.

On the other side, he loved learning even for the sake of hoarding all kinds of information. Like Machiavelli stated, before all else, be armed, and Hadrian’s armor was knowledge. He was just so curious! Ravenclaw would be the best. And Anthony and Michael were already sorted there! If only the Sorting Hat would agree with him, his life could be wonderful.

“Oh my, you are quite the stubborn fellow, aren’t you? You already decided.”

Hadrian would prefer to be called determined in reaching his goals but in this case, he would also accept ‘stubborn’. His mother often told him he got it from her.

“I see, I see. Well then… RAVENCLAW!”

Everybody seemed to be stunned. Professor McGonagall was definitely surprised, Charles and the Gryffindors too. A Potter who wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor? That simply didn’t happen. An astonished Sirius wrote to him a week later, it could be worse, Pup! Have fun with the nerds and their dusty books! If he knew how much worse it could be, he wouldn’t be so blasé about it.

He walked calmly to his new table and sat on a free seat. Anthony and Michael were in front of him and he gave them a wide smile.

“I told you we will be in the same House—” he started but was almost immediately cut off.

“Why did it take so long? What did you talk about? It was nearly twenty minutes! The longest yet. They told me it was a hat-stall. What other House was considered?” Hadrian had a terrible case of bad luck. He just had to sit beside someone loud, noisy and… full of hair, because that was the first thing he noticed about her. She had a huge dark mess of frizzy curls on her head.

“Because I was arguing Ravenclaw was the best choice for me and the Sorting Hat was stubborn,” he answered irritated because details about Ravenclaw-Slytherin debate were going with him to his grave… or at least he wasn’t keen on letting everybody know.

“A Potter arguing to be put in Ravenclaw. That’s new.” The boy who spoke to him had short brown hair and a plain face. Hadrian was sure he reminded him of someone. “Terry Boot of the House Boot. Call me Terry, please.” Oh, Healer Boot. Maybe his son or nephew?

“Everyone sometimes needs a bit of change,” Hadrian answered and reached over the table to shake his hand. “Hadrian Potter of the Noble House of Potter, well meet. Call me Hadrian.”

“And I am Hermione Granger, I am the first witch in my family.”

“That’s nice.” Hadrian didn’t miss the disdain in Anthony’s reply. Oh, so he might be one of those. His father would flip if he knew that Hadrian introduced himself to a possible blood purist. On the other side, it could be just her manners or lack of those. Hadrian on a good day wasn’t a social butterfly and was a bit awkward with people he didn’t know, but Hermione Granger was something else completely. She tried to quiet them when the Headmaster rose from his chair. Not that there was a need to do that. He exchanged meaningful looks with Anthony and Michael. From the start of the feast to the end, Hadrian heard I am the first witch in my family multiple times with Professor McGonagall came to explain everything and I am so excited I read through all of the books to be prepared, so I know everything the teachers could ask in the class. He could understand the excitement of being able to be here and get an explanation of all of the unexplained things happening, but it didn’t go well with any of the newly sorted Ravens sitting nearby.

Adding to this disaster, during their walk to Ravenclaw dormitory Hermione loudly exclaimed how she couldn’t believe that Diagon Alley looked so backward. She couldn’t have chosen a worse time to voice her opinion, because she was talking to Morag MacDougal and Sue Li, a heiress and a second daughter to pureblood families. The girls were already whispering and snickering between them, even before Hermione caught up to them, so her words didn’t help at all.

“It’s not like I already hate her or something,” Mandy Brocklehurst told Hadrian quietly when they were led up the staircase. They’ve  met a few times before because her family had an apothecary in Diagon Alley and Hadrian’s mother liked to shop there. “It’s just… She was already rude in the train while searching for Longbottom’s frog, and when she got sorted, she just sat and interrupted Corner to start talking about herself. Was she raised in a barn? She ignored everything and just talked.”

“And she started talking about how the Muggle world was more modern or something. She supposedly couldn’t believe we wrote with quills,” added Michael from the other side. “Just rude. One of those why don’t you just do it like the Muggles. Well… Because we are not?”

“She was a bit too much,” agreed Anthony.

“I am glad she is a girl and won’t be sleeping with us. Are dormitories in Ravenclaw like in Gryffindor?” Hadrian changed the topic smoothly. He had a feeling Hermione would be talked about a lot in the next months. He could use a rain check this time. “Charles told me there’s five beds in each room and it sounds like a mess.” He wouldn’t make a big deal of it, but he couldn’t imagine sharing a living space with so many people after having his own room back home.

“Circle, no. It’s two people in the room. How can anyone in Gryffindor focus?”

Hadrian liked Ravenclaw more and more. Climbing a tight spiral staircase wasn’t ideal when they already had climbed a lot of stairs, but the sight from their tower ought to be beautiful. To enter their common room, you had to answer a logical riddle given by a bronze, eagle-shaped knocker. The one they heard wasn’t hard, so Hadrian wasn’t too worried about not being able to figure out the password. Were the riddles never the same? Did they repeat sometimes or were they similar to each other?

He was sure he adored his new house when he was let inside. It had arched windows, and on the walls were hung blue and bronze silks. The domed ceiling was painted with sparkling stars, which were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. Big tables and upholstered chairs covered the floor. And bookcases! The Ravenclaw common room had its own mini-library!

“Look at it!” 

He turned his head when Anthony pointed at something behind him. A white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw sat there looking elegant and graceful. It wasn’t moving, unlike the paintings hung along Hogwarts’ corridors.

“Hello, my name is Penelope Clearwater,” said the Prefect. “I am a Ravenclaw prefect, so I’ll be the one to formally welcome you to your new house. Within Ravenclaw, we welcome and encourage creativity, eccentricity, and individuality. We thrive in academics, so I hope you will uphold our tradition…”

Hadrian knew he shouldn’t do it, but he let his mind wander again, taking in all the magic. The ceiling was saturated with spells because, when he focused on it, beautiful colors bloomed, fading into each other and creating multi-dimensional patterns.

“…and the door next to the statue leads to the dormitories above. You will share your room with one person for seven years and there is no possibility of exchanging. Also, I am sure you noticed our bookcases…”

They were instructed to not bring any books outside and keep them in the dormitory, but Hadrian didn’t mind at all. It was wonderful. Seeing the excitement in his year mates, he felt assured that this was the right place for him. He was curious if any of the books expanded further on magical sensitivity. There was a big chance. Were those titles also available at the school’s library or were they exclusive? He didn’t want to check book by book, but the thought of finding something mysterious here was exciting him even more.

“Hey, Hadrian, you are spacing out, come on.” He was startled by Michael, who looked at him funny. “You sure space out a lot, mate.”

“He also looks like he wants to dive into those books,” teased Terry, but he wasn’t far from the truth. “We are going upstairs. The trunks are already here. Aren’t you curious to see who you are roomed with?”

“Of course I am.”

He climbed the narrow stairs after Anthony and followed him to the first-year boys’ rooms. He hoped they were more spacious than the corridor, which was wide enough for maybe three people.

“Michael! We are roommates and so are Hadrian and Terry. Are we going to meet in our room tonight and get to know each other more?”

“If you want to?” Hadrian shrugged. “I am not tired and it’s Friday anyway, so we don’t have to be awake early.”

“Just let me put my outer robe away, I’m starting to get hot. Do you think we have to share the bathroom?”

“Father told me every room has its own bathroom. It’s just a sink, a toilet, and a shower so it’s not much but sufficient I suppose,” Michael told them. “There should be towels and soap.”

Hadrian opened the door to his room and looked inside. It was modest but didn’t look bare. The sheets and curtains on the two beds were blue with brown details. There were two desks, a pair of wardrobes, a bookcase, a second door and on the wall, three small arched windows.

“Looks like it. Our trunks are beside beds. I don’t have a preference, so we can exchange if you want Terry, but the room’s sides are identical.”

“No, it’s fine as it is.”

Anthony looked over their shoulders.

“It looks like ours. Even the furniture is in the same place. Perhaps they didn’t want fights among the students but they also didn’t say we couldn’t personalize it.”

“…so, an hour and we’ll meet at yours?”

That night Hadrian went to bed late but satisfied. For the first time in years, he met children who were as interested in learning magic as him. It felt wonderful, but he couldn’t help to think it would end soon. Sure, he landed in Ravenclaw but the Weasleys and Charles were still in Hogwarts. Ron and Neville in his year, the twins and his brother in their third. Percy was made prefect this time, but he was never a problem. Quiet, studious and ambitious, he would have made a better Raven than a Lion. If he had to spend time in the Burrow or with the Weasleys, Hadrian often sought out Percival or Charlie Weasley, if he was home from Romania. Bill was fun to be around too, but he was the oldest and was home so rarely, Hadrian didn’t remember when he had seen him last.

The twins would be fun too with their creativity and innovative thinking if they didn’t give in to Hadrian’s brother's borderline cruel prank ideas. The three of them often didn’t think about the consequences and Hadrian didn’t want to be around them much.

Ronald Weasley was a completely different story. Even if Hadrian tried, he couldn’t find any redeeming traits in him. The boy idolized James and Sirius to an unhealthy degree and always copied Charles in everything, so he took his brother’s teasing as an invite to insult Hadrian on many occasions. He was always taunting, laughing at him, teasing, or pulling childish pranks and telling other children mean things about him. Being in different Houses wouldn’t stop it, because they would still meet in the corridors or classes; Hadrian knew Gryffindor shared most, but not all of them, with Slytherin. The prospect of three or four joined classes made him nervous.

What if Ronald started insulting or taunting him about his imaginative friends or things that nobody else saw? Or will outright call him a liar? What if someone believed him? What if it’ll be Anthony, Michael, or Terry? Hadrian liked them and had the impression they liked him too.

And Terry! What was his relation to Healer Boot? Had he heard about the family which berated their child in front of a healer for lying?

He took a few deep breaths. Focus. He needed to think it through. Ronald will for sure do something. The wise man does at once what the fool does finally, wrote Machiavelli and in this situation, Hadrian thought he should be wise. He would eventually tell them about his magical sensitivity. Either they would be good friends and he wouldn’t want to hide it, or at some point he couldn't explain something he had done without them knowing. So… First off he will ignore that idiot. Then if Ronald said anything, he would tell them the truth in private.

But what if they didn’t believe him? He didn’t have much to prove it. Sure, he could tell when something was enchanted, where wards ended, sometimes how many spells were used, how powerful a casting wizard was… But someone could lie about it because how could anyone check that? Maybe there were spells, but Hadrian didn’t know any. Did they know? Probably not since they were first years like him.

He tossed around in bed for a few minutes and settled with laying on his right side, facing the windows and desk. Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like if he were more outgoing and had nothing special about him. Maybe it would be different and he wouldn’t be a friendless nerd, but… How could he give this up? He focused on the walls. The magic interweaved through them was amazing. Purples, reds, blues, and greens were layered and in multiple hues, sometimes yellow or pink would bloom between them. It was oddly absorbing and calming. He didn’t see so much magic in his home, because they didn’t live in an old house. Yes, there were wards or charms on the windows but it was never this intense. Maybe because of Hogwarts’ age? It didn’t have any smell, but adding some powerful scent would be overwhelming. It was perfect the way it was.

*

It took nearly two weeks for Ronald to start something bigger than name-calling in the corridors and the classes they shared. Luckily it was only Charms and History of Magic, but still, it gave Weasley enough time to say something.

Anthony, Michael, and Terry quickly noticed but Hadrian told them it wasn’t new, Ronald always was a mean prick. Michael looked like he wanted to ask something, so Hadrian told them also that he and Weasley knew each other from birth and never got along. It gave him about three days of peace.

At the end of their first week there, a letter from his mother arrived. Sirius and Remus had sent him a shorter one earlier with a scarf in Ravenclaw colours. Remus wasn’t surprised by his sorting like Lily, but both James and Sirius were. They all took it well. However, Hadrian couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he told his family about the possibility of Slytherin. With some luck, Charles wouldn’t tell them about the long hat-stall either and the topic would never come up. At this point, his brother only wrote about Hadrian’s sorting to Ravenclaw. According to their mother, he also wrote to her that he checked on him now and then, but Hadrian didn’t need to call him out on this lie.

Like he thought, he had fallen in love with Hogwarts’ library. It was quiet, big, had books on anything he needed for classes and a lot of places to hide. Logically, he knew that he wouldn't ever find anything really interesting there. Maybe in the Restricted Section, but with Dumbledore as the Headmaster? If James Potter was a paranoiac, then Albus Dumbledore was obsessive. Hadrian overheard a few conversations and one clear instruction on how to deal with some Auror cases, and that was enough to deduce it. There wasn’t a chance for anything deemed even a darker side of grey.

The atmosphere in the library sold it to him. Maybe some parts were dusty and you could find snogging couples in the farthest corners, but there was a slim chance of meeting the Weasleys or Charles there and he could effectively hide somewhere if he piled enough books in front of him. On his fourth visit, he found a round table with five chairs around it in the History of Magic section between the last bookshelf and a wall. Hadrian could tell by the spider webs that it was rarely used. It was a good hiding place for quiet reading and Michael liked it enough to name it their table.

Nothing in their classes surprised him. He had already read all of the books and being raised by magical parents he knew the simplest spells. As soon as he got his wand he tried them in the privacy of his room, so his parents wouldn’t know. He didn’t succeed in his first try but successfully managed them after a few times. Nobody in Ravenclaw had problems with casting wingardium leviosa after two classes on the theory behind the spell. Even Hermione cast it right, but she had to tell everybody in hearing distance that she had worked on it on the train.

Hermione turned out to be even more problematic. Nobody wanted to talk to her, yet she always stuck to someone, joined in discussions, or loudly voiced her unwanted opinions. She spoke with conviction and finality in her tone, which made her sound arrogant and overbearing, especially when she was constantly correcting people. It was clear she wanted to be included, but the girls often vanished somewhere and when she caught up with their small group, Anthony or Michael made a point of talking about Quidditch which they knew she hated. It was sad and Hadrian pitied Granger a bit, but he didn’t want to be the one who told her to tone it down after she got offended when Padma and Lisa both told her they would prefer to work on transfiguration alone without interruption.

Potions was the only class where she was remotely silent, but the downside was Snape. Hadrian knew his mother liked Severus and talked with him regularly, he also knew that his father and Sirius hated him with reciprocated passion. It could mean for him to be singled out and questioned, although he didn’t mind this. The fairness of grading would be more of a problem. On the bright side, he wasn’t ignored or shunned when he had met Severus Snape on a shopping trip with his mother, and then absolutely flooded the Hogwarts’ professor with respectful questions about potions and asked for good books for introduction to the subject. Hadrian was nine, but he remembered his stunned expression with clarity.

His fears turned out to be wrong, but Snape was still a harsh, somewhat malicious, and very demanding teacher with high standards. Hadrian heard rumors about the Slytherin-Gryffindor class being a riot and about a big point loss thanks to Longbottom and Weasley. The Huffelpuffs were scared of their first Potions class because of it, but nothing happened and nobody was targeted. Of course, Snape still gave the impression that no one was worth a knut, which must have offended Hermione. Her hand rarely went down, but she was mostly ignored and someone else was called to answer a question. They had to hear about the unfairness of this during lunchtime and Lily Moon rolled her eyes so hard that  Morag nearly spat her pumpkin juice.

Defense Against Dark Arts was taught this year by an old, retired Auror. Edward Weiss was a kind muggleborn wizard, who probably had done more paperwork than actually been in the field, but did know what he was talking about. Hadrian heard from Morag, that Quirrell, their Muggle Studies teacher, had wanted to be moved to the Defense position, but the Ministry had pushed for someone with the right knowledge. Dumbledore for sure hated it because Hogwarts was like his kingdom. Hadrian had heard many times that according to Dumbledore and his peers, the Minister of Magic was a dark wizard with a huge following among the British Lords. Well… Tom Marvolo Riddle was a traditionalist and a former Slytherin, so pureblood families behind him shouldn’t surprise anyone. Wasn’t that the point of his campaign three years ago? Magical traditions, tightening the Statue and making the Ministry more efficient among others, if he remembered correctly. It was a close call, but Riddle won despite strong opposition. James was raging about it the whole election. 

Between all of this, it was relatively quiet and peaceful, so he didn’t expect Ronald to approach him with Longbottom, when he, Anthony, Michael, and Terry wanted to use the last warm days of September to spend some time outside.

“Hey, loser! Have you seen anything recently? Or did your mother finally get you a Mind Healer?”

“Leave me alone, Weasley, and go back to wasting your time somewhere else,” he told him because he had seen how Anthony looked at Ronald. There was no need for a fight in the corridor or detentions in the first month of school. He wasn’t here to scrub any trophy rooms.

“Do your friends know how freaky you are?”

“Shut it, Weasley, because I will shut your mouth for you,” said Anthony with venom, he seemed to be fed up with this situation. He held back a lot of times before.

“Yeah? Beca…“

“Yes, because not all of us don’t know how to use a wand, Weasley. I will hex you.” 

Hadrian would believe it with how furious Michael looked. He ought to know some spells. Circle, Hadrian did too but didn’t want to get a howler. Striking back wasn’t worth public humiliation.

Longbottom was quiet, but had tears in his eyes and was clearly unsure. 

“C’mon, Ron. It’s a bad idea…”

“You bet,” drawled Terry with a closed-off expression on his face. Hadrian had trouble believing it was the same shy but friendly boy he shared a room with. “Get lost.”

Ronald wasn’t expecting that reaction. It was clear that he didn’t know what to do. His ears and face reddened horribly, but he didn’t say anything back. The stupid things he usually spewed out made his brother and the twins laugh, so Hadrian’s friends defending him must have been a novelty.

“Stupid freak,” Ronald yelled, and with that, he stormed away embarrassed with Longbottom on his tail.

“What an idiot,” concluded Michael and looked at Hadrian worried. “What was that about?”

“He has been an idiot and always will be one. I will tell you but… maybe not in the corridor?”

They settled by the lake. Michael wasn’t bothered by it if he didn’t have to board a boat or get into the water, so it was a good place for a serious conversation. Students could be seen walking in the distance in small groups or alone, but there wasn’t any chance to be overheard. They would have noticed anyone who would want to eavesdrop immediately.

Hadrian dreaded this moment.

“Well, it’s hard to speak about it, because I had never told anyone all of this.”

The boys looked uncertain, but none of them interrupted him when he spoke.

“When I was really little, I started to smell things. I didn’t know what it was, but I figured out it was connected to the people I was around. My dad smells like oak, my mother like flowers for example. Some people don't have a smell at all like Ronald. I told my mum, but the only response I got was to stop playing around and imagining things.”

Terry appeared to connect the dots.

“It didn’t stop there. Later came colored lights and… It’s hard to describe, but it’s some kind of a transparent blur, or distortion to the air, which sometimes has a clear shape. Those colors can be faint or bright too. Layered, melting into each other, constantly moving or staying in one place like a stain… I mean… it’s like this now, but it got stronger over the years. When I started noticing something was wrong, it wasn’t very clear. I was once again told to stop playing. My mother told me to stop saying those things because kids won’t like me and will think I am weird. My father kind of ignored it as a child’s game. I had to tell my parents multiple times about the blurs and only then did they take me to St. Mungo’s.”

Telling something like this was weird as if he was insulting his family. He tried to leave the bitterness out of his voice, but it was impossible. He had been angry, bitter and had an overwhelming feeling of wrongness for years now.

“I don’t know if there is any family relation, but I met Healer Boot, who told me I was sensitive to magic and explained a bit. Of course, I also got glasses because Potter’s got poor eyesight and it’s almost a rule to be a Potter. Glasses helped with making the shape of those blurs clearer, so that’s a plus. Healer Boot told my parents he wanted me tested for magical sensitivity. They berated me then for lying, telling stories and playing around where I really shouldn’t, apologized to Healer Boot, then dragged me home and grounded me. Father also told me I could’ve embarrassed our family name by stating I had gifts I only imagined I had. Charles heard them talking, figured it’d make wonderful teasing material and told everyone. The twins thought it was hilarious and Ronald is going on and on about my wonderful imagination and lying to this day. Maybe they really think I am a lunatic, maybe they don’t. I don’t care but it’s hard because… Ronald is always telling anyone about how crazy I am. It drove people away. Adding to that, my parents always assume I am not telling the truth.”

A long silence followed his monologue. It caused a sinking feeling in his stomach and his face felt oddly cold. It was awful. Hadrian hated uncertainty and anything unpredictable, with this talk being a stellar example.

“It was my father. I didn’t want to ask when I met you, but… He was furious, you know? Absolutely furious with your parents, because you were a classic example of a child with magical sensitivity. It showed on the scan. It could have been a few things, but magical sensitivity was one of them. And he told my mother you spoke of it in such a way that it couldn’t be a lie.”

Hadrian didn’t know what to answer. Healer Boot had believed him. Healer Boot knew he was not a liar or a crazy child with a wild imagination. It was oddly wonderful to hear someone was angry on his behalf. Looking at his… friends right now, Healer Boot wasn’t the only one.

“So… Do you see wards…?”

What?

“Michael!”

“What?! I like wards.”

It was so ridiculous, Hadrian snickered and then burst into laughter.

“Look! Now he’s laughing! The atmosphere was too grim for my taste.”

Michael was still grinning like a loon when Anthony pushed him on the grass.

*

“So, are you saying that when my parents made Sirius my godfather, they strengthened my connection to the Black family?”

“In essence, yes. But I know there is more to it,” answered Anthony. “It would be helpful to have a book I remember reading to show you, but it’s not the kind of book Hogwarts would have. It was written in an entrance to family rituals.”

“Hogwarts’ library for sure doesn’t have any books about rituals,” added Michael. “But maybe family magic?”

“What family would allow Hogwarts to have books about their family magic?” Terry shot this idea down quickly. “We know which talents to associate with which families only because nobody hides them. Talents that’s it, for sure not how to control or use them.”

“My parents don’t have anything useful. My father doesn't follow traditions, so he has no use for rituals. My mother is a Muggleborn and never was accustomed to traditional ways nor did she want to be. I would love to know more, but I told you about my father’s obsession with dark magic.”

“And the Potter Manor?”

Hadrian looked at Terry and nearly scowled.

“Maybe, but it’s out of reach. Grandmother resides there as the Regent Potter and she hadn’t contacted anyone in the family since my sister’s fifth birthday. That was six years ago. I don’t know what father must have told her, but it hit hard.”

“Did you write to her?” asked Michael.

“Not that I could, living with my parents in Godric’s Hollow. They check the mail, even Charles’ letters. Everything that comes in or is sent. I don’t think they would let me borrow the family owl, let alone ask grandmother about family magic or something they think I made up. Father is really paranoid and my mother would say that the concept of branches of magic, which are only genetically inherited and cultivated in pureblood families, is racist.”

For a few minutes, the only sound was that of pages turning. They were sitting at their table in the library. Everyone had already completed the assigned homework, but being Ravenclaws it meant it was time to study more interesting topics.

Currently, they were feeding Anthony’s fascination with family relations and how it corresponded with Hadrian’s gift. It only showed how much his knowledge in this matter lacked and that was impossibly irritating. His parents had deprived him of a big part of his heritage. It was all the harder to swallow because he had little idea how to learn about it. He found one book about magical sensitivity in the whole of Hogwarts, and it wasn’t useful!

“I will have to buy some books,” he decided. “Do you have any titles in mind? I’ll borrow a school owl and place an order. One thing I don’t lack is money. We have a monthly allowance in our personal Gringotts accounts, but it was hard to buy anything interesting when my mother looked over my shoulder. So it must have accumulated over the years.”

“I remember one or two, but I can write to my father to recommend something,” offered Anthony and Michael nodded. “Maybe I will ask him to send me some? He wouldn’t ask questions. I think he is secretly proud of my interest in traditions and magical families.”

“That would be amazing.”

“Hey, what do you think would happen, if you wrote to your grandmother now?” asked Terry suddenly. “I mean, nobody would read your letters. We could place a charm that would only allow your grandmother to read it…”

“I don’t know?” Hadrian closed the huge volume he’s been reading, and then rested his head on his hands. “Hopefully she didn’t exclude my name from post wards, but she could do it with Potters’ name as a whole. You know, nothing written by any Potter would go past a ward. It isn’t hard to imagine, because we are the last Potters.”

“You can do that?” Michael was immediately interested.

“I was surprised too, but my mother did it once to Professor Snape when he pissed her off. She tried to arrange a dinner party, but Sirius, Father and Snape lasted only an hour without insulting each other. She excluded the whole name because Snape’s mother was still living.”

“I still can’t get over it. Your mother is the childhood friend of Professor Severus Snape! He is just so… so…”

“…pissy, sour, strict, scary, gloomy, mean, sarcastic?” suggested Anthony. They all busted into giggles. Nobody wanted to laugh loudly in the library and get thrown out.

“I guess he’s nicer to mother or she’s just used to it. I mean, I met him once for a longer period of time and he wasn’t bad. He’s a really great potioneer and an inventor. Mother advised me to think of him as a prickly cactus.”

“P…prickly cactus!”

They all cast silencing charms, because nobody could hold their laughter any longer. Hadrian was positive he never laughed that much. Sirius always wondered how Lily and James could have such a serious child. Remus sometimes joked that Sirius was just so unfunny, he couldn’t make him laugh. It always led to long bickering that actually made him smile from time to time, which usually provoked Sirius to more ridiculous wailing.

“You know, I’m not sure if I want to try writing to her,” said Hadrian, when they calmed down. “I would love to hear from her, but I don’t really know her and I am not sure what to write.”

Michael shrugged.

“I have no idea, but maybe something along the lines of… My parents are acting like Muggles. They underestimate nearly everything I am experiencing and I need help from someone dependable with knowledge, so help me?” That got him a nudge in the shoulder from Anthony and a disapproving look from Terry. “What. It’s not like that would be a lie.”

“Well… It wouldn’t be, but I don’t know how I feel about telling grandmother that her son is being ignorant and it’s causing trouble. It was hard telling you, guys. It’s even harder to tell somebody, who can actually do something,” he admitted. “What if she told him about the letter? I don’t really know what father would do, surely he’d be beyond furious. I could ask her to keep it secret, but would she? It’s too much of the unknown for my comfort.”

“It’s crazy,” commented Anthony. “You only want to know about your family magic, traditions and a little bit about common rituals. It’s not like they didn’t use any in their lives, because if you have your godfather recognized by Gringotts they had to use one. I could understand being this sneaky about… I don’t know… Dark, blood rituals dealing or necromantic artifacts or if you wanted to try random curse breaking in the ancestral home attic.”

“I told you, my father is paranoid about anything that’s dark. And dark has his own definition, optionally Dumbledore’s when it comes to this conviction about lurking dark lords. And my mother is this kind of Muggleborn who doesn’t care about tradition, only about magic. She’s a Potion Master, she doesn't have to know it, has no interest in it, so she won’t. I will have to do it myself.”

“Well, not by yourself, because we’ll help,” said Terry with a smile. “It’s not like we know everything too. It’s not expected yet, but we will have to learn it before we become Lords or heads of our families. The rest comes with living in this culture, so it’s common knowledge.”

Hadrian pondered a bit about this. If it was true, then he had time to learn about important customs. Maybe there was a way to worm into those lessons. This would take a lot of careful lying to his parents. It was another problem. It wasn’t like he hadn’t omitted the truth in his life. He did, on more occasions than he could count. But he hadn’t walked up to his parents and lied to them inventing a completely false story. It wouldn’t be easy. With the attitude they had so far, his parents would be careful with trusting him and looking for things to call him out on. It will take some planning. He had to think about it more because like Cicero advised, before beginning, plan carefully.

“I don’t even know how much I don’t know.” Hadrian sighed when they were putting away their books a few minutes later. They wanted to be at the feast earlier to avoid the crowd by the Great Hall entrance. Why did Michael feel the need to drag eight books about magic mushrooms from the other end of the library to their table? “It’s a frustrating thing. I only know about etiquette because I got bored and we had like… three big volumes on it. Mother often nagged us to learn how to behave correctly, so I thought it was important.”

“And now you don’t act like Granger!”

“Michael, even if I didn’t read those books, I wouldn’t behave like her. I don’t make a sport out of offending people, being offended that I offended someone, then being offended that nobody wants work with me and saying they’re bigoted. If she toned it down and didn’t sound so arrogant and standoffish, she would be much more likable, because she is intelligent and resourceful which guarantees a nice study partner.”

Someone must have heard it because something dropped and the loud thud made everyone jump. Surprised, nobody moved. They heard a commotion and then fast steps moving away to the front of the library.

“Do you think it was her?” asked Terry standing up where he had been crouching at the lowest shelf. He looked out from behind shelves to catch a glimpse of whoever it could be. “I doubt someone else would just drop their stuff and run away.”

“Well, at least she heard Hadrian who was nice and not the girls.” Anthony rolled his eyes at Michael.

“I think she knows what girls think about her… or she is more delusional than we think she is.”

“I doubt she knows everything they say about her, but she might have an idea. Morag, Sue, Lisa or Lily don’t exactly hide their snickering. Only Padma tries, but her patience wears short sometimes.” Hadrian looked at his friends when he had put the last volume in the right place. “I think anyone would figure it out if they wanted to. Maybe she doesn’t.”

*

As it turned out, even if Hermione had heard them in the library, they forgot about it quickly, because something unexpected happened. Who would have thought that a troll would be found in dungeons? And why was a fully grown troll in Hogwarts in the first place?

“Somebody had to let him in,” said Anthony. They were sitting at the Ravenclaw table because Weiss told them to stay in the Great Hall. The tables were empty except for biscuits and tea, which was quite funny. They were having a tea party, while their Defense professor was hunting down a big troll with Flitwick and Hagrid.

Terry nodded. “Of course. Trolls are slow and stupid. They don’t swim, climb anything high or sneak. Do you think they will call the Aurors?”

“It’s possible. I mean, Professor Weiss is a retired Auror. He knows it should be reported and somebody should check how it got here…” …and he’s not one of Dumbledore’s people, but that Hadrian left unsaid. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he already sent for them.”

It was quite boring if Hadrian was to be honest. They were safe and had nothing better to do than chatting… Some of them went to sit with their friends or siblings from different Houses, but Hadrian had no desire to sit with Charles when he was surrounded by the Weasleys, so he just looked around. He hoped classes won’t be canceled for the next day… Wait.

“Have any of you seen Granger?” he asked. Everyone in his hearing range turned to him… And then looked around in tense silence.

“Sweet Circle,” muttered Michael. “I remember her being with us in Charms, but later?”

“She ran to the bathroom near the classroom crying because Weasley yelled something rude at her…” Lily Moon told them. She sounded a bit panicked. Everyone was getting more and more nervous. “Are you sure she’s not sitting with someone from a different House? I saw her talking with Hopkins and Jones earlier this week.”

Anthony stood up and looked at the Huffelpuffs’ table. Morag was already doing it and Sue Li scanned their own table carefully, in case they missed her.

“I don’t see her.” His face was grim. All traces of laughter were gone. “It’s hard to mistake somebody for her because of her crazy hair. What will we do? Professor Flitwick is outside with Professor Weiss.”

“We have to tell someone, that’s what we are going to do,” Hadrian said and didn’t waste more time to stand up. It’s not like the Charms classroom was in the dungeons, but close enough if somebody wanted to take the longer way to the Great Hall to calm themselves down or hide.

With Anthony on his heels, he walked quickly to McGonagall, who was sitting with Snape at the teacher's table. He could feel the eyes of the other students focusing on him as he climbed the stairs to the podium. It was stressing him out, but he couldn’t just sit and do nothing when Granger was somewhere in the castle not knowing about the danger. He would feel awful if he hadn’t reported her missing.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Goldstein, what happened?” asked McGonagall before they even walked up to them.

“We found out Hermione Granger is not in the Great Hall, Professor,” he told her without hesitation, but he worded it carefully. “She’s a bit of a... loner. We thought she sat somewhere else, but we checked other tables and she’s not here. Not our table, not any other table. Lily Moon told us she saw her hide in the bathroom by Charms’ classroom because Ronald Weasley was really rude to her, but it was about two hours ago.” Throwing Weasley under the Knight Bus was a nice touch.

The Great Hall was silent. Deadly silent.

“Is Miss Granger here?” she asked very loudly, but there was no answer. “Is there anyone else missing?” followed then.

“Cho Chang, second-year Ravenclaw, but she’s in the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey wanted her to stay the night!” yelled someone Hadrian vaguely recognized from their Quidditch Team.

“Adrian Pucey from Slytherin. There was an accident in Potions and he is staying in Hospital Wing as well,” a Slytherin Prefect said.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Goldstein, you can go back to your table,” Professor McGonagall told them with short, clipped words. “Ten points each for awareness and your quick reaction.”

Hadrian didn’t know if she was angry because Ronald Weasley was from her house, or worried about Hermione. The student body observed from their seats as the Professors talked quickly between themselves. Soon McGonagall, Snape and Vector left, for sure to search for the girl. Dumbledore had vanished somewhere, Hadrian didn’t even notice when, but he didn’t care much.

“Do you think they will find her?” asked Morag quietly. “I don’t like her, but I don’t wish her dead.”

“Of course they will,” assured Sue. Around them, the chatter picked up again, but the atmosphere in the Hall was still tense.

“Professor Snape is also a licensed Mediwizard,” added Hadrian to calm them down a bit.

“Really?”

“Yes. You have to be at least a licensed Mediwizard in order to supply Hospitals with healing potions,” added Terry. “You can have a Healing Mastery too, but it takes more time, so often if someone doesn't want to be and work as a Healer, they’ll just get a license instead.”

“Do people often have multiple Masteries in Britain?” wondered Padma.

“I think yes... if the fields are similar or have much to do with each other. Healing goes with Potions, Dueling, Charms or Transfiguration goes with Defense… what else…”

“Herbiology with Potions or Magizoology,” Michael added to Terry’s enumeration.

“Ancient Runes with History… I am sure there is a lot more of it, but it comes to my mind first,” said Anthony. “Magical Theory is needed in multiple branches of Magic… Wards or Arithmancy.”

“I can’t think about one serious job, which can be done without either a Mastery or some kind of training program,” stated Lily Moon. She was a bit calmer and her voice didn’t shake anymore. “It takes a lot of time and money.”

“Having a family name behind you doesn’t hurt. My brother was studying under a Master who refused to take an apprentice without… a good name,” Morag told them.

They shared stories about Masteries heard from family members because it was better than sitting in uncomfortable silence. Nobody was really calm, but it wasn’t so bad when they could distract themselves from thinking too much. There were few laughs heard over the constant chatter.

Slowly it was getting late. Hadrian was a bit tired, but he had no idea how much longer it could take. Had anything happened to Granger? Was she hurt? It was rather morbid curiosity. Maybe he should feel bad about the whole situation, but he couldn’t. They weren’t required to watch over her. No one could have predicted that something like this would happen. It was the school that should have provided better protection.

Suddenly the doors opened and McGonagall entered the Great Hall. Beside her were Vector and Flitwick.

“Students, follow your Prefects straight into your common rooms. Everything is under control, the Troll was captured by Professor Weiss. Miss Granger is currently in the Hospital Wing and will join you tomorrow. Miss Clearwater, a word, please.”

“The Hospital Wing?” Anthony looked at them with a smile. “For sure nothing big happened because she would be immediately transported to St. Mungo’s. Maybe she just fainted.”

“Who knows. They don’t have to tell us,” muttered Terry. “I am showering first.”

Hadrian looked at him and shrugged.

“I have to finish the last chapter anyway.”

“Why can’t you be less problematic like Hadrian?” Michael whined to Anthony. “You’re always arguing about stupid things like that.”

“Not everyone can be perfect,” said Hadrian in the sassiest way he could, which made everyone laugh quietly.

In the end, Hermione wasn’t changed by the incident with the Troll. She became even more persistent. In their next Herbology lesson, she didn’t let anyone answer Sprout’s questions and she became almost intolerable in Transfiguration. Her hand didn’t stay down, at some point she even began waving it to get noticed. Nobody in Hogwarts raised their hand in classes, so she stood out. Some of the Professors didn’t mind, but Snape? He tore into her and took ten points from Ravenclaw.

“Sweet Circle, she’s impossible,” mumbled Michael when they were climbing the stairs. “Did you see how angry she looked when Professor McGonagall ignored her hand and asked Morag? What is she trying to prove, that she is better than us or something?”

“I don’t know, but I didn’t get a chance to ask about the use of Mandragora leaf. I was confused by the textbook and in 1000 curious uses of magical plants they wrote something different. She was talking to Professor Sprout after the class ended,” responded Anthony.

Hadrian didn’t have much to say. It irritated him, yes, but what could he do? He wasn't going to hex or curse her. He couldn’t say the same about his classmates though. No one spoke to her since she had come back from Hospital Wing. Hermione hadn’t been in their common room ten minutes before complaining to Padma Patil, that although the Aurors were called, everything was deemed an accident by a young Auror straight from training. She was sure if she was a pureblood or half-blood, it’d be a huge scandal. 

Hadrian didn’t completely disagree, but it all would depend on which family and how bothered they would be. He wouldn’t go as far as calling everyone pureblood and the system racist like Hermione did quite loudly. Older students nearby stopped looking at her so sympathetically from this point forward, and gossiping ran wild. Some of them seemed offended, but Ravenclaw weren’t a confrontational bunch. Ravenclaw excluded and ignored. It was much more effective with younger students because no one could stand being ignored for too long. It hurt a lot more. 

Akilah Shafiq from the second year, who had started including Hermione in her small study group, made sure that there was no chair for her to sit and began to choose the smallest possible table. Shafiq's best friend Annalise McCartney-Turpin was acting polite, but never let Granger follow them to the library. Some of the excuses sounded as false as it could get without being ridiculous. Not everyone was this nice because another study group member Hubert Burke told her that she clearly wouldn’t want to spend time with pureblood supremacists, so she shouldn’t sit near him anymore. Surprisingly Granger hadn’t cried in front of everyone.

“How about we just ignore her? It’s not like she will be the only person talking the whole school year. They’ll start losing patience…“ he assured them.

“I am beginning to wonder when Padma Patil will lose her patience. They are roomed together, aren’t they?” inquired Terry.

“I heard from Morag, that she’s spending a lot of time in Morag and Sue’s room. Lily said she’s often visiting Mandy, Lisa and Lily in theirs too. They don’t mind, because Padma is really cool.” Anthony was well informed as always. He was one of those people who truly loved good networking and took pride in knowing who did what with who and when.

“I don’t know if Granger hadn’t realized yet that she’ll be here for seven years. If she makes everybody hate her, she’ll end up entirely alone,” Terry commented dryly. “Nobody is meant to be alone.”

No, nobody was meant to be alone. Hadrian couldn’t imagine being left completely alone or being constantly ignored. It was hard enough without anyone to talk to honestly without judgment. He was sure you could go crazy from loneliness. Crazy or really, really depressed and jaded by life. It was a sad thing to think about.

He startled when Anthony touched his arm. He, Michael and Terry tended to do that when his mind drifted away too much from their conversation or he was too pensive.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you thought about ordering those books we talked about.”

Anthony sent his father a letter, in which among others he asked for recommendations or books about purebloods’ traditions, customs and family magic. It took two days for him to reply. To Hadrian’s amazement, he had owled Anthony not only a short list of the best books and the owl address of a bookstore which would have them but also a Compendium of Rituals, Curiosities of Family Magic and Traditions written by Cetus Atria Lestrange. James Potter would flip, but Hadrian was delighted. Even more when Anthony said he shouldn’t worry about returning it, because it was a very popular book between pureblood families and in the letter his father clearly stated it was nothing. To Hadrian, it meant a lot.

“I think I’ll do it tomorrow. Do you… Will you go with me to the owlery?”

“Sure. I’ll be your prince charming and catch you an owl. I’ll even sacrifice myself and send it for you,” Michael announced dramatically. “Can I be your prince, Hadrian dear?”

“Yeah, can he be your prince?” Oh no, Hadrian knew these voices.

“Can I be your prince, Harry?”

“Maybe you need…”

“…two or three princes…”

“…oh, maiden Hadrian…”

“Do tell us…”

“Will you let us serve you?”

“All day…”

“…all night…”

“…whole year…”

“…maybe life!”

Have patience. All things are difficult before they become easy, wrote Saadi of Shiraz, but Hadrian had lost his patience for their teasing a long time ago. Especially when it embarrassed him.

“Fred, George. If you want to serve me, I will allow you…” He turned around to them. The twins were standing in a small, probably abandoned corridor. “But your first task is to leave me alone.”

“No can do, Harrykins!”

“You are simply too fun to ignore, sunshine!”

Michael snickered at this. Et tu, Brutus? Anthony was smiling too.

“What are you even doing here? Are you… hiding?” Hadrian raised his brow while looking at them doubtfully.

“Us? Hiding?”

“Completely not.”

“We? Hiding! Such a preposterous idea!”

“Then what are you doing in an abandoned corridor?” asked Terry in a flat tone.

“Heard that firstie, Gred?”

“Such insolence, Forge!”

“Fred, George, I see you!” Hadrian easily recognized the voice of Lee Jordan.

“Harrykins, remember, it wasn’t us!”

“Nobody was here!”

They bolted into the old corridor, leaving them confused. The twins always were surrounded by chaos and confusion, when it wasn’t the yells of pranked people. Lee Jordan often was as much their partner in crime as he was a victim. This time he ran past them and after the Weasleys without a word.

“So… they were Ronald’s brothers,” said Anthony, clearly amused. “They aren’t that bad.”

“When they are without Charles they’re just irritating, but with him, they can be a bit cruel… or a lot. I sometimes wonder if people won’t want to take it out on me because of their… pranks.”

“I sure hope not, because then you would need more than one prince charming, sunshine,” sing-songed Michael.

“Oh, shut it.”

They laughed anyway.

*

Hadrian was a bit touched when Michael sent his letter with the book order while he stood in the owlery door behind Terry. Owls made him really uncomfortable. He didn’t like the suddenness of their moves or their sharp claws, and the beak also wasn’t his favorite part, but he could admit they were beautiful and majestic. He just preferred admiring them from a healthy distance. 

“How long do you think it would take?” asked Terry when they came down from the tower. They had a lot of free time on Wednesdays and Hadrian sometimes thought he would drown himself in books if he hadn’t had Anthony, Michael, or Terry. It was Anthony or Terry who insisted on breaks or small walks. Michael often dragged him into discussions about something he had recently found to be interesting or whined until Hadrian played chess with him. He couldn’t lock himself in his room and read all the time, but they also left him space to breathe. He felt comfortable with their easy affection and attentiveness. Hadrian wasn’t expected to suddenly be someone else like it sometimes was with his family.

“I don’t know? Maybe two or three days? Maybe longer if they don’t have something in stock. I requested a shrunken package, so it’s not going to look huge when the morning post comes. I honestly can’t wait.”

“Don’t tell me that you finished the compendium…” Anthony looked a bit disturbed by this thought, he couldn’t believe how fast Hadrian read everything he got his hands on.

“No, because… I need something more basic. The author assumes that the reader already has basic knowledge. Sometimes I feel impossibly stupid when I don’t understand something.”

“He’s really grumpy when that happens,” added Terry. “I once thought he was going to throw his ink bottle at the wall, but instead he started brooding while looking into space.”

“It’s calming,” he explained. “I don’t see magic nonstop, but when I focus, everything comes into life. Hogwarts’ walls are saturated with magic, so it’s a multitude of colours and hues, all with different intensity in multidimensional patterns. It calms me down. Wards around the castle are pretty magnificent too. A bit like the northern lights, but more… condensed. “

“When you talk like this, I pity myself for not having a chance to see it too,” Anthony told him and Michael nodded, but they didn’t seem jealous. Neither did Terry. They had their talents. Anthony had an astonishing aptitude towards Transfiguration. He understood the theory behind it like no one else Hadrian knew. Michael was a fantastic brewer, so was Terry, but Terry didn’t possess Michael’s innovative instinct. Instead, Terry was amazing with numbers. He already had tutors in Arithmancy and told them he wouldn’t take this elective, because it wouldn’t help him with anything. Hadrian would trade his magical sensitivity for such a useful gift. When he said it once aloud, they had nearly buried him under the sheer number of fields in which magical sensitivity could be really helpful. Terry earnestly encouraged him to pursue Runes and showed him more advanced books than the few Hadrian had read so far. It turned out that Hadrian had barely touched the basics of the theory, reading only about applications, names and history, which opened his eyes to new possibilities and got him thinking more seriously about warding.

“At least you aren’t a health hazard during Potions,” he replied, which earned him a short laugh. He had to try harder, because of Snape’s high expectations, but his tendency to drift away into his mind during brewing was sometimes a call for disaster. Anthony, who was his partner during the class, often had to watch for it and bring him back to the present. Once he was startled so badly by Anthony’s touch on his arm, that he dropped in a lot more salamander eyes than he should have. Snape must have been observing them because he was by their table in a second. What was weird was that he didn’t take off points, but told Hadrian to add twice as much lacewing flies to balance the potion. From this time, Hadrian frequently felt Snape’s eyes on him but wasn’t called out on anything.

Snape must have told his mother about his wandering mind though because she mentioned it in her next letter. She wasn’t very worried but asked if something was troubling him. Hadrian wrote her back, saying everything was good and nothing happened, he was just tired because he studied a lot. It was a good cover story because he had no idea how to tell her that he always tended to do that, she just hadn’t noticed.

“Hadrian, I can’t believe I didn’t ask!” said Michael out of the blue. “Do we have a scent?”

Anthony seemed ten times more interested than before, so did Terry.

“Well…” he began, leading them towards the Greenhouses when they stepped on the ground floor. “Terry smells a lot like lavender. It’s not overwhelming, but palpable. Anthony’s smell is heavier and I can’t tell exactly what it is, but it reminds me of my mother’s essential oils that she keeps at home, but at the same time it’s a bit minty. Michael’s reminds me of summer’s day. I can’t put a finger on it, but sometimes it’s more of a vibe or feeling than a smell.”

They were Ravenclaws, so they noticed immediately.

“More of a vibe or feeling? Is it something new?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t recognize the smell and my brain connects it with something similar or associates ... Anyway, do you want to repeat the previous lesson before Herbology?” he asked, because one, they were in the open, and two, he didn’t want to talk about what it was, when he even couldn’t name what he was experiencing. He hadn’t met anyone who would associate with something he knew in such a way. It was puzzling.

*

The next few weeks were as uneventful as learning of magic and wizardry could get. Sometime around the middle of November, Anthony hexed Ronald with jade green hair and big teeth, when Weasley called Hadrian a crazy hag. It cost them five points from Snape, who was nearby, but then Anthony got awarded ten in Potions for a good chopping technique, which made the rude Gryffindor red with anger and Michael smile widely into his cauldron. The whole situation seemed to push Ronald towards trying to curse them in the corridors. He wasn’t very good at it, but soon enough he managed an effective stinging hex. Terry responded with a jelly legs charm, and after that they decided to learn some type of shield spells. It was easier to research than to learn, but all of them could conjure the basic form of a shield before Yule break.

“Mother celebrates Christmas at home,” Hadrian told them after they found a free compartment. “Father doesn’t mind. I don’t think any of them believes in the Christian god though. We have a Christmas tree and presents but we aren’t expected to give any to the elders, a bit more festive dinner and that’s it. I don’t think they would mind if someone wasn’t present. Charles was with the Jordans last year, so were Fred and George.”

“So you don’t celebrate Yule like wizards at all?” inquired Anthony with a bit of disgust in his tone. Sometimes he tried to be neutral towards people who didn’t follow wizarding traditions but Muggle ones, in order to not disparage Hadrian’s family, but he hid his aversion quite badly. “Do they believe in Mother Magic and Circle of Life?”

“I don’t think so. They call for Mother or Circle but it’s more a manner of speaking than worship. They don’t participate in celebrations. If not for my grandmother and books your father recommended, I wouldn’t know what Yule is and how wizards celebrate. Father politely refuses any invitation to galas or balls and you know about his stance on rituals. I don’t think he’ll be able to refuse as easily when he’ll become the Head of the Auror Department. My mother really dislikes balls, because once someone told her something rude when she didn’t want to participate in celebrations.”

“Maybe next year I’ll try to invite you all to my family manor,” stated Anthony. “We’ll do everything the old way.”

“I don’t know if my parents will let me,” Michael admitted. “But I can ask and if not the whole Yule break, then maybe part of it.”

“Father and mother work a lot in St. Mungo’s, so I think they’ll be happy that I am not sitting alone in my room,” Terry looked like he liked the idea of them spending a break together. “But shouldn’t we plan something for the summer first?”

“Lughnasadh? My family usually hosts it. Anthony was at our celebration two or three times. I’ll make sure you are invited,” proposed Michael.

“But remember, it’s a big study date with Quidditch, Gobstones, sunbathing or whatever doesn’t sound suspicious,” Hadrian reminded him playfully. It sounded wonderful. “We can use my birthday as an excuse. It’s 31 July after all.”

“We’ll  figure out something, so your parents won’t have the slightest idea where you have been, little rebel,” teased Terry.

Hadrian honestly didn’t want to think about the number of lies to lay the grounds, but as Machiavelli wrote, he who has not first laid his foundations may be able with great ability to lay them afterwards, but they will be laid with trouble to the architect and danger to the building, and Hadrian wanted a stable building, which won’t come down onto his head at sight. It had to last a long time.

He had already planned some things to bring up and how they fit into conversations. It was a good thing for once, that his parents haven’t been socializing much with anyone beside big Dumbledore supporters because it limited their ability to catch him red-handed. He doubted his father would want to ask around about his friends, but he was prepared if he knew something he didn’t like about their families.

They had spent the rest of the train ride playing chess, reading or dozing. Hadrian mainly watched Anthony and Michael’s game, lazily advised when Michael asked for a tip, and read Terry’s 100 practical applications of Arithmancy over his shoulder. It seemed to be a good book, but he didn’t understand a lot, not being as far in Arithmancy as Terry. He pondered over starting reading on it more seriously next year, so he would be prepared for his third year, but he already knew enough to be aware that it’d be hard to learn by himself. The more advanced calculations looked really complicated, but the theory behind numbers and its applications were simple enough to memorize quickly.

This time, he brought home with him only one book which wasn’t on the curriculum. It was a neutral and overall harmless explanation of celebrations during the year and their roots, written by the ancestor of the Bones’, so his parents couldn’t really say anything bad about it. He could easily say that he was curious about it because of his year mates’ talking and wanted to look into it a bit, so he wouldn’t be left out and irritated about his lack of knowledge. Simple and believable. He didn’t doubt that he would read it quickly, but when he began to get bored he could do homework and learn more Runes. He hoped he could start joining Runes together sometime by the beginning of the summer.

“So… We’ll meet again on the train after New Year. We know our floo addresses, so if anyone gets lonely, sad, angry, bothered, anything, we’ll call each other. Especially you, alright Hadrian?” insisted Terry, when the train started slowing down.

“Alright. If I get lonely or anything, I’ll call someone,” Hadrian promised with a small smile. Terry could be such a mother hen and it only seemed to get stronger with each month of their friendship. “I will even do it, although I hate ash in my mouth.”

“I'm the first in line as your prince!” demanded Michael. The prince charming banter was still brought out, but Hadrian didn’t mind very much when he got used to it. Now he cherished it as their little inside joke. “I’ll even help you with your trunk!”

Hadrian protested a bit, but in the end let Michael levitate his trunk from the luggage compartment to the ground of the platform. However, when he noticed his parents watching, he felt blood rushing to his face. Anthony and Terry couldn’t hold their laughter when they saw his blush.

“Fair Hadrian, here are your belongings,” announced Michael. “Our separation will be a thorn in my heart, but as your charming prince, I can handle this pain.” Yes, milk his embarrassment.

“Oh, be quiet.” He hit his arm and took control over the trunk. “See you soon, you jerk.”

See you soon, my prince, drowned out the regular see you’s from Anthony and Terry, to his mortification, but he already missed the three of them minutes after he joined his parents, Charles and Anne.

“Why was he calling you his prince?” asked Anne, when they were walking to the apparition point and Hadrian flushed even more.

“It was just a joke, he likes to tease me.” This kind of teasing he could tolerate because it wasn’t  coming from a bad place.

“At least he didn't call you his princess,” she pointed out, after maybe two minutes of silence. “Can I be his princess, if you are his prince?”

“Ask him next year in Hogwarts.” Michael would hex him if she really asked that, but there was a chance she’ll forget.

He was side-along disapparated by his mother, holding his trunk handle firmly. He detested this feeling of being squished and pushed through a tight place to the point it was hard to breathe. It made him cry and anxious when he was younger, and he preferred the floo over it, although the dust and ash made him want to vomit. He detested every single method of magical transportation. Even brooms, the wind hitting his face robbed him of breath. Hogwarts’ compulsory flying lessons were dreadful, but he managed to fly the required three circles as slow as Madam Hooch let him. He didn’t plan on mounting any broom from that point to his death, hopefully.

They apparated right before the wards, outside of the property. Mother was letting them in through the gate when his father brought Anne and Charles with him. Hadrian furtively looked at the wards around their house. They seemed stronger than ever, felt more powerful, and the purple color in them was much clearer. Did father add more? They were already much stronger than the wards around most of the magical houses he visited, the Burrow for example.

“Go unpack, boys,” his mother told them. “And then I made some spaghetti, so we can eat together. I invited Remus and Sirius.” 

Ugh, spaghetti. Not that Hadrian minded Italian pasta, but the sounds his family made while eating… It was disgusting. In Hogwarts there was too much noise in the Great Hall to hear chewing or slurping but in the kitchen of Potters’ Cottage? It was awful. “Oh my god, Charlie, you have grown again. Soon you will be taller than me. Anne, can you help me in the kitchen?”

“Do you need me to levitate your trunk?” asked his father.

“No, I’ll cast a feather-light charm, and then just drag it upstairs, Dad.”

“You have already learned that charm? I don’t remember learning it before second year.”

“I am in Ravenclaw, my friends and I love learning,” he pointed out. “We probably wandered into third-year material.”

“I am glad you are enjoying yourself, Harry.”

Hadrian smiled. “I love Ravenclaw.”

His father smiled back a bit sadly, but Hadrian wasn’t bothered by it nor paid it much attention. Instead, he brought the trunk to his room to start unpacking. First, the school robes changed on the train landed in the dirty bin in his bathroom, and then he got to arranging his textbooks, parchment, ink bottles and quills on the desk. Wizarding celebrations by Aloise Bones was placed on the nightstand, clothes in the big wardrobe… Everything in the order he liked and practiced since childhood.

He often caught himself repeating the same order or scheme. Terry also pointed it out and looked interested when Hadrian told him that he just preferred—needed—things in a certain arrangement if he wanted to relax in the room. It also calmed him down and helped him think when he could arrange or sort something. Terry probably named it one of Hadrian’s quirks, because he hadn’t mentioned it again.

“Children, uncle Sirius is in the house!” Was he using a Sonorous or what? Hadrian heard him too well from his room for this to be an ordinary yell. If yes, then his mother and Remus were berating him… And that meant, he didn’t have to hurry and could check if he looked presentable. The beige shirt was slightly crumpled so he straightened it with a spell, and the black slacks worked with it just fine. He wasn’t cold, so he put away the pomegranate cardigan he had left on the chair earlier… And then went downstairs to get dinner over with.

“Hadrian! As lanky as always! Do you even eat anything?” He didn't even make it to the table when Sirius noticed him. “With longer hair, I could easily confuse you with Regulus or any Black! He too looked like a Bowtruckle.”

“As if! The Potters’ hair is just easier tamed when longer, and he looks like Uncle Fleamont!”

Hadrian winced internally at his godfather’s words. James Potter didn’t like it when people pointed out Hadrian’s  resemblance to the Blacks. There was no lie in it, because he may have had thick and unstoppable hair, but it wasn't like James’ or Charles’ mess. It was somewhere between wavy and curly, nearly ink black, not brown or chestnut, like grandmother’s. His eye color was unusual for both bloodlines, Lily Potter’s startling green, which everyone loved to point out. He was scrawny, pale, and gave the impression of being delicate, and he had seen the similarity with Sirius’ brother Regulus once in photographs from his childhood years. His features were sharper than his parents', although he inherited a proportional, narrow nose from his mother, and his father’s strong, shapely eyebrows and jawline. His cheekbones were much higher, completely from the Blacks, as were his long and thin fingers. The older he got, the stronger it showed.

If his father didn't like seeing a Black in him, then he’d hate the fact that he had a gift which ran in the Blacks’ blood. Not that Hadrian planned on trying to tell him again anywhere in the near future. Maybe after Hogwarts, maybe after leaving the cottage.

“It’s nice to see you too, Sirius.” Mother gave up on trying to get them to call Sirius uncle years ago.

“How is my favorite nerd?”

“Don’t call him that, Siri,” said Remus. “He’s not a nerd.” Remus looked a bit worn out and sick, but it could mean a plethora of different things. Experiments with new versions of Wolfsbane potion, hard time in work, the new anti-creature campaign in the ministry, even depression. Hadrian probably shouldn’t know about the last one, but he once heard Sirius talking about it with his mother.

“I am fine. Hogwarts is good and I really love Ravenclaws’ dorms. It’s two persons in a room, and we have a small library in the common room,” he responded.

“And he has a friend, who is calling himself his prince charming and helped him with his trunk!” Oh, great. Anne just had to tell Sirius, who won’t let him live this down.

“So young and already breaking hearts! So like his handsome godfather!” Sirius exclaimed cheerfully. “And father,” was added, when James hit his shoulder lightly. “How did it happen?”

“It’s just a joke.”

“Aaaand? Come on, Harry, tell your dogfather. You didn’t write it in your letters!”

“Well, I wanted to send a letter, and I still don’t like being near owls, so Michael joked that he would be my prince charming, save me and send my letter from the owlery. So he did, but the joke remained.”

“…Michael?” James asked. So interrogation had just started?

“Michael Corner. He, Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot are my best friends. I share my room with Terry, and Michael and Anthony are next door,” Hadrian elaborated. “I am on good terms with the majority of housemates from my year, but I mainly stick together with them. I don’t really talk to anyone else unless a professor will pair me with someone and that doesn't really happen.”

James didn’t say anything, so either he hadn’t heard the names in his line of work or was thinking about what he knew, but Lily did.

“And Neville and Ronald?” she asked. Did nobody write home about their escalating hate towards each other? “Or Lady Bones’ niece?” Was he hearing a hopeful tone in her voice? Did his mother hope that he would cultivate a relationship with the Light families, even if it was clear for years that they hadn’t got along?

“Not really. Susan is in Hufflepuff and always with her friends. We share most of our classes, but not all of them. Mandy Brocklehurst was sorted in Ravenclaw with me though, she’s nice. She’s always up to discussing potions.” Hadrian didn’t explain why he despised Ronald or didn’t care for Neville. “I talked with Fred and George a few times. Percy has a bit of a crush on our prefect, so he sometimes visits the dorms, when his are too loud.” There, he hung out with Weasleys, all was good, no need to worry about the wrong sort of friends. He even timed it well, because Charles was still up in his room, so he couldn’t protest.

“And how is Quidditch this year?”

“I don’t know, I don’t watch the matches,” he admitted, to which Sirius gasped dramatically and grasped James’ arm.

“Hadrian underestimates the beauty of this sport,” said his father with false despair. If he joked, then he wasn’t in a bad mood.

“He doesn’t go to the matches, Jamie!” Charles chose this moment to come in, or rather barge into the kitchen. “Charlie, our only hope is in you, how is Quidditch this year?” Charles was more than happy to tell them all about it. He wanted to try for the team next year, and Sirius and James were all about it.

“I hope you don’t spend all your time in books, Harry,” Remus told him. He sat next to him with a glass of water he just got from a sink. “It’s perfectly fine to learn, but you shouldn’t forget about rest or exploring the castle.”

“I don’t read all the time.” His friends minded the breaks, always went with him to meals and adding to this, Terry kept an eye on him, so he wouldn’t stay up too late in the night. Michael dragged him into games quite regularly at this point and together with Anthony roped Hadrian into  discussions with other Ravenclaws.

“So… what do you do for fun?”

“Well… I play chess in the common room. We go to walks on the grounds and by the lake.” The question on its own was harmless, but Hadrian could see that his father stopped talking with Sirius and Charles and paid more attention to him instead. “We debate with each other sometimes, when we have different opinions… Anthony is a bit fascinated with muggle science, so he bought some books by owl and we are going through them sometimes for fun. It goes well because Terry’s parents are suppliers for St. Mungo’s and he always wondered about muggle doctors or medicine. Michael’s father is muggleborn, so we are able to tell them some things. Anthony is fascinated by movies and he hasn't seen any yet, so we are thinking about a trip to a theater during the summer break. Michael told him also about amusement parks. I think he would like to go there, but he is too embarrassed to ask.”

He could swear his mother lost some tension in her posture when she heard that. She was straining the pasta, but she soon turned around with a small smile.

“It’s good to hear you found yourself nice friends,” she said. “Are you already planning on staying with each other for summer?”

“Terry’s parents work a lot, so he said he’s mostly alone and seemed sad about it, so Anthony proposed we make a checklist of places to visit or things to do during the breaks.” His mother was a sucker for polite, helpful children. And when they seemed sad or lonely? She wanted to do something nice for them. “I don’t do much during summer and Michael was really excited, so I said I’ll see about it.”

“I remember times when I thought James’ father would throw us out because we spend the majority of summer with them each year.”

“We wouldn’t throw anyone out of the house. Maybe Sirius,” teased James.

“Hey! I am too likable to throw me out!”

Hadrian left them to their bickering. It would be for the best if they lost their interest in him now. Most of the time they left him alone after asking one or two questions. Remus sometimes was more persistent and talked to Hadrian about books or tried to coerce him into joining them in whatever everyone was doing. The last one rarely worked, because he was content with watching from the side or ignoring their antics altogether. Besides, Hadrian hated the unexpected loud sounds that often accompanied pranks or Zonko’s jokes.

He accepted the plate with spaghetti from his mother and forced himself to eat. It would be the best if he could just imagine being somewhere else, not in front of Charles, who ate like pig on a good day. It was irritating and he felt himself getting antsier and antsier as the meal progressed. Maybe he could find a spell to silence the noises? There should be some variation of Silencio, which should mute certain sounds.

He didn’t finish the whole plate when it was too much for him to stand. His stomach clenched, and he knew he would throw up if he continued eating. He had to calm down, so he looked at his mother. She was busy talking to Annie, and Charles was occupying the attention of their father, Remus and Sirius, so he took this chance, stood up and went to clean his plate. Nobody said anything and he used a few crumpled leafs of paper towels to hide the pasta he had thrown away. This Yule would be long and grueling.

*

Hadrian didn’t expect it, so he must have looked bewildered when his father stopped him in the hallway the day before New Year and motioned towards his study. It wasn’t often that James Potter wanted to talk face to face, so Hadrian quickly backtracked his behavior to find something worth any kind of conversation. He couldn’t think of anything. So… what was it about?

“Listen, Hadrian,” he began. His tone was neutral, but it often started like this. He would start from sounding like he discussed irrelevant events and then end up in a passionate rage. In those moments, sometimes, things would break or fall down from a shelf. It was terrifying for Hadrian because he could easily imagine this angry energy turning on a person. Especially when his father’s face was twisted in fury. It was an ugly sight. 

“Mother and I are very happy, that you found good friends in Hogwarts, who aren’t judgmental. Your mother was worried that you’ll end up alone, because of your… big imagination. I am not saying that having an imagination is bad, but lying to impress people is. Especially when you are older. People are going to call you out and you’ll be embarrassed, we’ll be embarrassed. I am glad your friend Terry isn’t very close with Healer Boot, or maybe Mr. Boot forgot about that disaster, and God I hope you got that out of your head because it’ll be even more disastrous now when you are going to school with children of influential people.”

It was sad to hear, because Terry and Healer Boot were on Hadrian’s side, believed him, never ridiculed anything he said or told him he was embarrassing to the family. James Potter went out of his way to not tell him outright, but that was the meaning of this little speech. Hadrian Castor Potter was an embarrassment.

“Your mother also told me that Sni.. Snape wrote to her about your absentmindedness. He suggested something is wrong with you because you drift away during the simplest activities. Don’t do that, focus. Do you want your friends to act like Ronald and tease you non-stop? Do you want people to think that something isn’t right with you?” If what Ronald does is teasing, then he was a dragon. Also, he didn’t think that he could just… stop his mind from drifting off. Just like he couldn’t just stop organizing, thinking, reading, breathing… “Hadrian!” He flinched visibly when his father shouted. “Don’t do that! What have I just told you?! To stop spacing out like you are retarded!” Each sentence was followed with a jab of James’ finger to his chest. The last one caused him to take a step back with its force. “Did you forget how to speak?”

“No, father. I am sorry. I am just tired,” he replied almost instantly. Hadrian was getting more and more nervous because no matter what, his father never pushed him.

“Tired is not an explanation!” James put his hand on his shoulder and shook him, the move making him feel sudden nausea. “Watch yourself, Hadrian, and get a grip, be a normal child for once and don’t make problems. I am stressed out enough with my impending promotion to the Head of the Department, don’t add to it. You don’t have to be the center of attention. It’s not even a good kind of attention. People are looking at you, thinking you are weird and connecting this with us. Do you understand?” Only then he lowered his hand.

“Yes, father.” Hadrian didn’t want to cry in front of him. His hands were shaking, but they were hidden in the big sleeves of a sweater. He had no idea what was happening. His face felt cold and he couldn’t control the slight trembling.

“Good. Now you may go. And think about what I told you.”

Hadrian went straight to his room, closed the door and slowly sat on the floor. He raised his hands. They were uncontrollably shaking, he observed with sick fascination. It didn’t feel like his body at all. He could as well observe from the outside. He couldn’t calm himself down, he couldn’t properly breathe. It hadn’t happened before. Never. Hadrian knew his stomach could clench, he could feel sick and cold when he worked himself up… but this shaking and feeling of detachment? It scared him. What if something like that started when he was in public? He would make a huge scene.

Trying to focus on anything else than what happened, led him to slowly stand up, make his way to the bookcase and take out 100 Runes for the beginners, which he took then to his bed. He knew them all, but reading through the familiar text made him feel better. Same with following the shapes of Runes, and reciting facts from different volumes or differences.

When a few drops of water hit the third page, Hadrian touched his face. How could anyone not notice they were crying? His cheeks were completely wet, so he wiped away the tears with his sweater. Breathe in, breathe out. It was like a lump had formed in his throat. Again, breathe in, breathe out. He read the same sentence a third time. It was irritating, so he closed the book.

Lumos, he thought, gathering his hands to form a bowl. Bright magic erupted and Hadrian really looked at his spell, which added pale blue color around the ball of light. He willed it to dim, to brighten up again, to become smaller, to grow bigger. He threw it in the air and forced it to stay above him, made it do a small circle and then stop on the level with his eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. He felt a bit calmer and his hands stopped shaking so much.

Could he make two of those? He didn’t know a spell which made multiple lights, but if he could hold this Lumos in power, what prevented him from trying to cast a new one? Would the permanence charm work on something incorporeal like a ball made of light? Probably no. It didn’t affect any object nor transfigured one, so there wasn’t anything to make permanent. Wouldn’t it lead to magical exhaustion? Possibly.

He ended up trying a few times to cast another Lumos, but nothing happened. It absorbed his attention, however, and he spent a lot of time analyzing what went wrong. Even the distortion in the air hadn’t formed. He promised himself to look into it, played around with Lumos a bit more and finally ended it with a Nox.

He definitely felt better. Not wonderful, but breathing was easier, the lump in the throat had disappeared and his face didn’t feel cold anymore. He was alone, in silence, safe. In two days he was going to be in Hogwarts, in his dorms with friends. He would make plans not to come back for the summer or spend at least most of it away from home. Anthony, Terry, and Michael won’t turn away from him. Everything will be fine. Everything had to be fine. It sounded a bit empty even in his head, but he wanted to believe that in the end, somewhere in the future, he will be fine and happier.

The thought of fire calling someone passed through his mind, but he decided not to do it. It was nearing eight, they could be having a late dinner. He knew he had promised, however, he really didn't want anyone to see him. He could last two or three days and talk about it on the train. On the other side, it was even harder to talk about than his magical sensitivity. Admitting to himself that he lost control, got scared, shaken or anxious was one thing. Talking about it was completely different. And it was such a stupid reason for it. A bit of a shove shouldn’t make him feel like this. Like… a weird freak. Why was there always something wrong with him?

Not the first time he wished he had some kind of guidance.

*

Forgetting about his father was easy when he was around the Ravenclaws in their common room. There was nothing to remind him about the unpleasant Yule, his condescending mother or aggressive father. Charles was more tolerable this time, although Hadrian had walked straight into a prank and ended up with a stubborn mistletoe floating around him and serenading him with carols in a terribly squeaking voice. Silencio hadn’t worked, so he silenced it with his magic and barely restrained himself from setting it on fire.

His mood was improved by presents. Sirius gave him some kind of gift card to a bookstore, which was a relatively new thing in the wizarding world, but Hadrian was happy to use it. Remus bought him a new set of stationeries, which was welcome. He was going through his quills at a surprisingly fast tempo. It was the most modest gift because his parents bought him new robes, shirts and trousers. Most of them were in his House colors, but some were so painfully muggle that he was certain he wouldn't wear them.

The most priceless presents came from his friends. They agreed to exchange them in Hogwarts after New Year but had sent each other sweets on Christmas Day anyway. Hadrian got three collections of chocolates large enough to not provoke comments about being irrelevant to his friends. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on new books, especially after Anthony said he got him something really good in the train. They knew better than to owl him anything that could be deemed suspicious or write about it.

Something really good turned out to be a Pureblood Directory. It was supposedly written by Cantankerus Nott, despite the fact it officially had an anonymous author. His mother would scream at him and ground him for life, but he couldn’t care at that moment. He also got Politics and family titles by Amanda Rookwood and Unpopular family rituals with relation to Ancient Runes by Augustinus Goldstein. It was a bit too much and he told Anthony that, but he was very blasé about it. The Goldstein family was very wealthy, so probably it hadn’t made even a small dent in his allowance. Hadrian, in turn, hunted down Obscure and forgotten traditions of Celtic origin, which wasn’t cheap either.

Terry had almost jumped when he was given Arithmancy through ages and cultures and had in turn given him two very advanced books on Runes. Hadrian was tempted to look at them more closely, but Michael whined about waiting for his turn. Worse than Annie. Hadrian bought him a book about safe potion experimentation and invention, and that earned him a prolonged hug, about which he didn’t know how to feel. It was nice, but at the same time he wasn’t used to it and wouldn’t ask for it. Hadrian didn’t tell him to let him go, because when he saw Michael’s gift to him, he was stunned. Experiencing Magic and Of manipulations of magical matters were two humongous volumes explaining magical sensitivity, its possibilities, and methods to amplify and control it. Priceless.

“I won,” announced Michael. “Did you see his awestruck expression? It calls for a reward. I want a kiss on the cheek.”

“I won’t kiss you,” replied Hadrian and shoved him playfully, not putting any strength behind it. “But they all are wonderful. I love them,” he admitted. His friends were the best.

“Did you figure out a way to store them for the summer?” asked Terry. Hadrian told them earlier he had to think about it because he couldn’t leave his books in his room.

“I think so. I just have to check if my idea is possible.”

He moved away a bit from Michael and settled nicely in the corner of a big sofa near the fireplace. The Ravenclaw Tower wasn’t very warm in the winter and Hadrian wasn't a huge fan of warming charms. They made him feel overheated and overwhelmed rather easily, but maybe he just put too much power in them.

“Explain,” Michael poked him on the knee. “You do this thing, where you say yes or no, but don’t tell us anything else. I am curious.”

“We are Ravenclaws, we are always curious,” added Anthony and sat straighter in his armchair.

“So… I thought about it and then I remembered a case my father discussed with Sirius and Remus in our house maybe a year ago. They had a problem with smuggling and more layers of spells that they were expecting, so they called in a Cursebreaker and an Auror got hurt. Sirius and Remus talked about how detecting charms work to a certain degree. Wards are better and I think we have a detecting ward placed around the Cottage. Something was added to the standard ones when I looked at them this Yule… The thing is, when you place wards on something and then put it in a warded place, it won’t be detected. That’s how they hadn’t found a big part of the smuggled potions. But when you place the warded thing in a place with detecting charms or cast them, they’ll detect the protective ward. It works the other way around, but the detecting charm is limited to detecting the first layer of protection and a ward can detect an affinity of magic. I don’t think anyone would expect a second layer from me, even if they would find some kind of protection charms on my trunk. Something will be found for sure. So maybe if I’ll let them find something, they won’t be looking deeper. That’s one idea, but I don’t know any good charms for that nor I trust myself to cast them permanently. So I thought about something simpler. A charmed object in a charmed object with the same charms. The signature should cover the second one, if there are wards or charms around my home or if someone casted them.”

“… what?” asked Terry, furrowing his eyebrows. Michael looked like he was lost too.

“I think I know what you want to do,” began Anthony. “You don’t know what was placed around your house, but you are sure something was. Wards are more possible and we aren’t knowledgeable enough to properly ward or charm anything. If you at this point want to hide something, it’ll be detected, but while spells would be discovered, a number of them shouldn’t if they’re the same.”

“Couldn’t you say it that simply?” whined Michael, and Hadrian rolled his eyes. It was simple enough.

“I’ll simplify it for you even more. I’ll order a second trunk with the same enchantments, shrink it and place it in my first one. I’ll set a different password. My parents made Charles and I write down our passwords for the trunks they bought us, so…”

“So simple?” Terry looked at him with wonder in his eyes.

“I think so. They wouldn’t expect it. My father was surprised I knew the feather-light charm.”

“It’s not advanced,” Anthony said with distaste. “Are we the only ones who want to learn useful magic and reach for more? Too many people don’t learn anything before coming to Hogwarts.”

“So what do we have to research?” asked Michael and looked briefly at the books on his lap. He moved them to a low table in front of him.

“Well, I’ll feel better if shouldn’t was changed to won’t.” Hadrian wanted certainty, after this Yule. “I remember which charms were placed on my trunk, so I’ll have to check my theory and then read more about detecting wards and signatures of spells. I don’t know anything about signatures.”

“It seems like a nice research project,” Anthony summed it up, looking like he was already planning it out in his head. “And then we’ll order you a nice trunk.”

“Ideally from the same place, but I know from which shop they are. I would be perfect if the spells were cast by the same person, but I don’t know if this is necessary.”

“So… we are going to basically recreate one of the smuggler’s ideas?” Terry looked a bit pensive. “If this is our research project for the first year, then I wonder what we are going to do in our last. Find a way to pass wards like it’s nothing?”

“Terry, mate, it sounds like a job for a fifteen year old. In our last year we are going to at least dive in Goblins’ wards,” said Anthony so arrogantly, that Hadrian laughed quietly.

“You sound like Granger,” Hadrian informed him, still smiling. Terry and Michael busted into loud laughter, because of Anthony’s unimpressed face.

“Don’t compare me to her. She already pissed off Penelope…” Anthony fell silent for a moment because Morag and Lily were passing by nearby and approached them. Morag perched on the armrest of the only free armchair and Lily sat on the seat.

“I heard Granger, so I wondered what it was about because I overheard Clearwater and her friend. I’ll tell if you’ll tell,” she proposed and Anthony nodded, satisfied with this exchange.

“My father is on the Board of Governors.” He leaned to them and everybody did the same. It ought to look like they were gossiping, but it wasn’t out of normal. Ravenclaws were ones of the best with information gathering. It was this burning curiosity to know everything about what pricked their attention. “He told me that her parents wrote to the Board and asked for a single room for her because she wasn’t feeling well with Padma or getting along with the rest of you in the girls’ dorms. They claimed she’s isolated on purpose, not included and bullied, because of racist ideology our House is apparently supporting. The Board refused but notified the teachers. Professor Flitwick searched for Penelope and Padma as soon as we arrived in the castle.”

“She didn’t,” Lily was horrified. “Padma was trying so hard to be civil, after Granger insinuated the betrothal proposals her parents were considering and the traditional hair braiding are a way to show that she’s worth less than men, to—like she said—racist, patriarchal society.”

Morag must have known about it, because her face showed only distaste. Anthony looked both enraged and disgusted, but it wasn’t only him. Even the usually calm Terry and cheerful Michael seemed really angry. Hadrian felt disgusted by her sheer ignorance. What did Granger know about considering betrothal proposals anyway? It was common practice. A bit old school, yes, but a political move. A lot of families let their children choose the final match in the end, between accepted ones, so it wasn’t out of Padma’s control. She could argue and say no if she wasn’t satisfied and even negotiate introducing her own candidate. They weren't barbarian, Magic couldn’t bless an unwanted union!

“Now, I overheard Clearwater talking to Steward. Flitwick apparently took them to his office, told them vaguely about the letter and asked what was going on with Granger. Clearwater witnessed a few… incidents in our common room, so she told him about Granger’s impertinence, arrogance and calling everyone she didn’t agree with a racist. Padma told him more… How Granger is interrupting, correcting people and about her awful belief in her own rightness. Then Flitwick asked if anyone had talked to her about it. Padma told him that not anymore, because no one liked being called a racist or a bigot, so people would get offended, ignore her, and then, in turn, she would get offended that no one wants to talk with her. Clearwater confirmed it was true and Granger was often antagonizing someone, so we mostly left her alone and started ignoring her. Flitwick didn’t want to tell them what would happen next, but he promised to talk with Granger.”

“If I were Padma, I would be furious,” Terry told them. “Thank Circle Hadrian is the least problematic roommate possible.”

“I know, right? If I were Granger’s roommate, someone would end dead,” Morgan said and patted Lily’s shoulder. “I am lucky with Lily. We talked a bit, and we could take Padma in. I know the Board refused, but maybe Flitwick will let us. Sue, Lisa and Mandy have one room, so we can too.”

“But wouldn’t it be encouraging wrong behavior?” pointed out Hadrian. “She’s awful and she gets her own room.”

“She’ll be more isolated,” replied Anthony. “Less problems for us.”

“Who cares, she’ll probably be the one who graduates Hogwarts and then goes back to being a Muggle, because she won’t be able to handle the real world. Imagine her working at the Ministry,” Michael added to that. “Not our problem.”

Hadrian yawned and laid his head on his hand that was propped on the armrest.

“Do you want to go up? It’s getting quite late,” Terry asked him, and Hadrian considered staying for a moment, but then someone started a rather loud debate about some kind of leaves. He didn’t have enough energy.

“We may go.” Hadrian slowly got up and took his new books from the table, after charming them lighter. “So, tomorrow we start in the library? After breakfast?”

“First in the common room is waiting for the rest,” Michael reminded them because they often joked about leaving him behind because of his tendency to sleep late.

*

Between classwork, homework and practicing spells, their research took a lot more time than Hadrian previously thought it would. Adding to it, they had to make a place for resting or relaxing. Anthony sometimes wanted to sit in the common room and exchange gossip with Morag and Lily and sometimes other girls. Who was he kidding, Hadrian enjoyed it a lot because of the comments everyone made. He had stopped being bothered about discussing people in a public space when Morag showed them a variant of Silencio her brother had taught her. It was a wonderful spell, which silenced not a person, but a small area. It led to long rants, in which Padma let her irritation out. They kept the living arrangements, so Granger wasn’t really pleasant to be around. Michael almost choked on a biscuit when Padma had admitted to working hard on finding a way to make a barrier in the middle of their room with at least a silencing charm. It wasn’t going well, but the funniest part was Flitwick recommending her books.

It was not only that, but everything turned out to be much more complicated and they had to read a bit about certain aspects of Theory of Magic to understand how to adapt everything they read to their situation. In a way it was like a magical puzzle, everything had to fit and they had to be mindful of the bigger picture. They finished it by the end of June, with satisfactory results. 

Hadrian’s theory was mostly correct, but layering spells was very far from their reach. It was a complicated work and one attempting it should be aware of so many things, that Hadrian got it out of his head for a very long time. The idea with a trunk in his trunk was easier and actually faultless unless someone was to search his trunk manually. It wasn’t very possible, but he could not underestimate James’ paranoia, so he already thought about hiding it inside his room under the floor or bookcase. If it was shrunk enough to put in his pocket, then it would fit. He felt instantly better and more confident when it became clear.

Plans about spending summer with his friends were in motion. His parents agreed after a letter from Mrs. Corner. It was also simpler than Hadrian had thought because his mother was nominated for some award and had to attend a gala in Paris, which was organized with presentations of the newest inventions. She was going to be away for a week, and his father was finally promoted to the Head of the Department, which doubled his workload, from what he had been hearing from Remus’ letters. Charles was set to stay with the Weasleys with Anne, and Hadrian had to go somewhere too… So the Corners were a nicer alternative for him. His mother was also convinced that Hadrian was really excited about going to Muggle London. He didn’t know what Michael had been telling his mother, to get her to cover for him, but he was thankful. They hadn’t planned on being anywhere near London, but they planned two weeks with the Goldsteins. It left him with the last three weeks of summer break in the Cottage, but it would also be time spent on preparations for Hogwarts.

Michael was so excited, he was almost buzzing with energy. Even end of the year exams haven’t curbed it, and after that all he talked about was their summer plans. Hadrian didn’t have a clue how Anthony dealt with that, because it was a lot. He preferred Terry’s much calmer eagerness. Hadrian was looking forward to everything too, and he ended up smiling a lot more. Even Ronald couldn’t ruin it for him with his words and childish hexing.

They boarded the train with good humor after receiving exam results. Hadrian ended up fourth in his year, so he was quite content with it. Anthony was happy with his second place, Michael with his seventh and Terry with eight. It placed them high enough to be considered for choosing more than two electives in their third year. It was a possibility only for students with higher marks.

“I know Hadrian will come with me from the platform, but hurry up and show before dinner tomorrow. I can’t wait to show you our library,” said Michael. He was so hyped, he couldn’t sit calmly.

He wanted to add something, but the doors to the compartment opened, showing three students. They were from their year and Hadrian first off noticed Slytherin crests on their robes.

“Hello, could we possibly sit with you? We couldn’t find a free compartment, beside one with this Granger girl, and…” began the girl in the middle. She was really tall, with waist-length auburn hair and big glasses with delicate gold frames.

“Sure,” agreed Anthony, after looking briefly at him and not seeing any form of a protest.

They moved a bit to accommodate three more students, so everyone could sit comfortably. Hadrian sat by the window with Terry on his left side, and that robbed him from any complaints. He didn’t like sitting close to new people.

“I am Tracy Davies from the House of Davies,” she introduced herself first, and then everyone followed with introductions. Theodore Nott, who sat next to Anthony, looked at Hadrian weirdly for a moment, like he was expecting him to do something or loudly protest his presence.

“It’s because heir Potter pranked him with the Weasleys,” explained Daphne Greengrass, who was doll-like in appearance. She looked like one of the child models from his mom’s muggle magazines with her blond curls and large green eyes. They weren’t exactly like his, because they reminded him more of deep forest green. His were lighter and more intense like new grass in the spring.

“I am sorry for Charles. I don’t like the Weasleys either, but I downright don’t tolerate them when they’re paired with my brother. He’s a jerk,” Hadrian told him then, and a bit of the tension eased. As the next two hours passed, they all talked rather freely with each other. Tracey and Daphne turned out to be as interested in the latest gossip as Anthony, so Terry asked about Theodore’s interests and soon Hadrian was neck deep in a conversation about Runes, which had broken the last ice. His father would get kneazles if he saw his son in a friendly chat with the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Nott, promising each other to sometimes work together in the next semester.

But Hadrian didn’t want to care about it now. Now, he was smiling.