Chapter Text
In darkest night the Light shall rise
And seek the skeleton close his eyes
Blood shall run which ran before
Though still the earth will thirst for more
Chains break not the one they hold
What is hidden will be told
Voldemort paced, ignoring his lover’s worried glances as his mind ran in circles around the words, tying them up in knots and smoothing them out again. He search for the meaning, the ending, the way to avoid it all, but there wasn’t one. The prophecy promised blood and pain, and the secrets of Hadrian’s past would come to light.
For who else could the skeleton be?
Making another pass of the room, Barty caught his arm. The Dark Lord pulled and tried to turn away, but the younger man refused to let go. He wrapped his arms around him tightly, offering what comfort he could.
“We don’t know when it will happen, my love. It could be years from now,” he murmured reassuringly. “’Darkest night’ has no defined date, the new moon happens once a month. It doesn’t have to be tonight.”
Voldemort sighed, acknowledging Barty’s logic. It was not likely to be soon. Albus would be a fool to try anything while Hadrian was still in school, surrounded by other children. He nodded, relaxing into Barty’s arms.
“Of course. Hadrian will be safe in the school. There are too many eyes watching there.” Barty smiled.
The Dark Lord allowed his beloved to coax him into a chair by the fire, pulling the smaller man down onto his lap and planting kisses along his jaw. They had both finally relax when the door flew open, hitting the wall with a resounding crash. Lucius leaned on the frame, gripping it tightly to keep himself upright. Behind him, Severus was bent over with his hands on his knee, trying to catch his breath.
“My Lord,” Lucius panted, “Hadrian…gone…taken.”
All the windows in Riddle Manor shattered as one when the Dark Lord roared in rage and pain.
*** ***
Blaise watched as the ginger bitch walked into Draco, tripping over him and falling into Hadrian. The whole motion slowed down, but he couldn’t do a thing about it. He had a sudden feeling that this was the moment that had been foretold by Lovegood, but he was helpless as he watched the two vanish in a whirl of color.
“Shit!”
The Bone Man’s presence left his mind suddenly, leaving it cold and empty. All around him, their allies were looking around, feeling Hadrian’s disappearance as well. Blaise knew he had to act quickly. He silenced Draco before he could shout and grabbed him and Theo, pushing them towards a side corridor. As an afterthought, snagged Lovegood as well.
“What the fuck just happened?!” Theo snarled. Glancing at him, Blaise saw his magic leaking through. His runes were showing on his face, glowing with a black radiance like his eyes. Draco’s eyes were glowing as well.
“Not here,” he grunted. “Snape’s rooms.” They both nodded and took off. Blaise sighed and took Lovegood’s hand, dragging her along with them.
Snape threw open the door to heavy pounding, glaring at them murderously- until he noticed the glowing eyes and visible runes on Theo face. He ushered them inside quickly, sweeping his gaze across the corridor.
“Tell me what happened,” he ordered. Blaise clamped a hand down on Theo’s arm, shutting him up.
“The Weasley girl just kidnapped Hadrian away, portkeying him out of the Great Hall,” he answered. “Professor, the Dark Lord needs to know now. This isn’t going to end well.” Snape narrowed his eyes at Blaise’s tone, then turned his piercing gaze on Lovegood.
“Why is she here?” he asked disdainfully.
“She’s a Seer. She gave a prophecy this afternoon. It’s about what’s happening now,” Blaise explained, cutting off Draco and Theo.
“What?!” the Potions Master exclaim with wide eyes. “Recite. Now.” Lovegood gave him an uncharacteristically lucid stare and spoke in clear voice without any of her usual mistiness.
“In darkest night the Light shall rise
And seek the skeleton close his eyes
Blood shall run which ran before
Though still the earth will thirst for more
Chains break not the one they hold
What is hidden will be told”
Blood drained from Snape’s face alarmingly fast. Without another word, he sealed the door with a spell and herded them all toward the Floo. Blaise hung back, answering the Professor’s questioning eyebrow with a level gaze.
“I’m only a support, not one of his marked. I need to stay here.” Snape nodded, sweeping the other three into the fireplace.
“Riddle Manor!” he called, and they vanished in a rush of green flames.
“Oh, Merlin, let this end well,” Blaise whispered to himself in the empty room.
*** ***
Rabastan fell to his knees, all the air leaving his lungs at once. He grasped the wrists of the blonde girl in front of him with a bruising grip.
“Tell me how it ends, Seer. Tell it’ll all be alright,” he begged, not above a whisper.
The girl, Luna, closed her eyes. Runes shone silver-blue through her skin, spiraling up her arms and neck, swirling around her eyes, a testament to Hadrian’s skill and artistry. Her eyes were white and opaque when she opened them, filmed over by tears.
“I can’t. Fate has hidden the end from me,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Tell me what you see!” he demanded in a voice that was half shout and half sob. The girl trembled, sobs of her own racking her thin frame.
“Blood. Pain. Death. The reaper’s victim is hidden from me. The Bone Man in chains. This will be his greatest triumph or his end.” Her eyes cleared. “I’m sorry, Rabastan. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Rabastan howled. Arms snaked around him, Rodolphus’s, lifting him gently off the floor. He let go of the girl, letting Bella pull her into her chest and cry into her hair.
\C’mon, Rab. Off to bed,\ Rodolphus told him through their twin bond. \Hadrian’s so strong, he’ll make it through. You can’t succumb to weakness while he’s gone.\
\Rudo, what if he doesn’t?\ Rabastan asked his brother shakily. \I love him, I can’t lose him, not now that I’m free!\
\I know, Rab, I know. He will.\
*** ***
For the first time ever, Voldemort didn’t care who was around him. He didn’t care who was watching. He didn’t care about his image, his reputation, his need to stay aloof and above it all, he didn’t care. He buried his face in Barty’s neck and cried.
“My son, my precious Hadrian,” he gasped out. He could feel Barty’s tears fall into his hair as the man cried for the fate of his personal savior. He barely felt it as his lover apparated them away to their room. He was pushed down onto a bed, Barty’s arms wrapped around him. He curled into the smaller man’s chest, soaking his shirt with tears.
“Hush, my love, it’ll be alright. We’ll find him, my Lord, we’ll bring him back,” Barty soothed, voice choked with his own tears.
In the darkest night, the two lovers clung together in their shared pain and sorrow.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Hadrian woke slowly to his pain. He could feel blood trickling down his neck from where he was struck on the head. He was bound standing, the bindings pulling on his joints. His feet were chained to the floor, shackles around his ankles. His wrists were bound together, suspended from the ceiling. The chain gave him just enough slack to barely bend his elbows if he stood as straight as possible. Slumped unconscious, it had pulled at his shoulders.
But the worst was the collar. Thick, cold metal, it was skin-tight around his neck. Pulling his magic up to test its strength, he found out the hard way it was a magic-dampening collar. It pulled his power from him, the metal turning a faint red and growing uncomfortably hot before Hadrian let his magic go again.
Well, then.
“That’s it? That’s the best of your escape attempt?” a snide voice asked from behind him. Ginny Weasley, the one who brought him here.
“Of course not,” he answered in a voice dripping with hatred and disdain. “I’m merely testing and strategizing. Make a plan that involves the least pain for me and the most death for the Light.” He turned his head and fixed her with a deadly glare. “And rest assured I’ll kill you first.”
She laughed at him. Hadrian began to make plans for her slow death.
“You’re not going to kill anyone,” she told him, smirking. “Dumbledore’s going to use you to lure out your pathetic parents, and then he’s going to kill you in front of them.” Hadrian gave a ruthless, bloodthirsty smile.
“Oh, you really don’t want to do that. My father has a rather famous temper.” He paused and gave a mock-thoughtful expression. “In fact, you probably don’t want to bring my father here at all. He’d kill you all without a thought, and no one could stop him.” She blanched slightly but sneered.
“Oh yeah? Who do you think your father is, anyway? He’s no match for Dumbledore.” Hadrian smiled at her, but his eyes were cold.
“My father is the Dark Lord Voldemort, and Dumbledore hasn’t got a catch against him without Harry Potter as a human shield or distraction.” Deciding to throw her a bone, he added, “I made sure of that.”
Ginny gasped, her face screwing up with rage. She pressed her wand to his chest, right over his heart.
“What did you do to Harry?!” she demanded. Hadrian laughed coldly.
“I killed him.”
The redheaded girl screamed. She slashed his chest open wide, but he only laughed harder as blackness flickered in the corners of his vision again.
“I KILLED HARRY POTTER!” he taunted her, goading her to make further cuts. “I did it! And you know what?” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll never regret it, not as long as I live.”
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Voldemort swept into the Reception Hall, crimson eyes glowing. He had long ago given up holding his magic in check. His rage and Dark power rippled out across the Hall and all those assembled, forcing them all to their knees. Even Barty knelt behind his throne on the raised dais. The Dark Lord stood on the platform, not even bothering to sit.
Arranged before him was the entire might of the Dark. Hundreds of witches and wizards, marked either by himself or Hadrian, the Alphas of the Werewolf packs of Britain, Vampire clan leaders, representatives of the Veela flights and Goblin Nation. Drifting behind the dais was the Dementor King. Every one stood still and silent, awaiting their orders. They all knew something terrible had happened for their Lord to call a full meeting so suddenly.
“Albus Dumbledore has brought his death upon him tonight, and he will die at my hand for his actions,” Voldemort hissed. “This evening he has captured the Bone Man with the intent to kill him. His life is forfeit for daring to lay hands against my son.”
Across the Hall, shocked and curious eyes flicked up toward him. He had kept this secret long enough.
“The Bone Man is a sixteen-year-old wizard by the name of Gallus Hadrian Riddle-Black, Lord Black. The Light is foolish in the extreme if they believe they will survive the capture and imprisonment of a wizard stronger than Merlin and my son and Heir. They will die, and this war will end.” Hisses and murmurs of approval and agreement swept the ranks of the Dark.
“Your orders are to find him and tell me. I will personally go to my son and slaughter anyone who stands between me and my Hadrian. Understood?” His voice was as cold as ice and harder than diamond. The ranks bowed as one and disappeared to begin work immediately.
*** ***
Theo knelt on the hard stone beside Draco. The blond had his head in front of the fireplace, speaking to Blaise and Pucey through the secure connection in Snape’s rooms.
“No one’s seen the Weasley girl since she took Hadrian. Weasel and the Mudblood weren’t at breakfast, either, and they didn’t go to lessons. Dumbledore was at lunch, but we wasn’t there at breakfast or dinner,” Blaise informed them. Draco’s hands clenched into fists and he took a hard breath in through his nose.
“You think he’s got the Weasels and the Mudblood watching him while he isn’t there?” Theo asked, running gentle fingers across the stiff tendons in Draco’s neck.
“Probably,” Blaise shuffled on the stone floor. “Alex Dolohov and I called the supporters together after dinner today, told them to start asking questions about where they went and why Hadrian’s missing, especially since most of them saw him on the train with us or talked to him before the feast. Put the teachers on the spot, you know? I’ll let you know what they tell us.”
“Sounds good,” Theo answered. Blaise sat back, letting Pucey have room to reach the Floo.
“How’s…how’s Luna doing?” the seventh-year asked, a worried look on his face. Theo knew they had something going on, even if nothing was official.
“Not great,” he answered sadly. “She’s wearing herself out, trying to see what’ll happen. Keeps saying Fate has hidden the end from her Sight.” He sighed. “We’re going to send her back to Hogwarts tonight. She isn’t doing any good here, and she needs to keep of the image of being a Light little airhead.” Pucey visibly relaxed at his words. Theo bid them good luck and closed the connection.
When the flames died down he pulled Draco into his arms, tugging him toward the bed in the guest room they were using. He curled his tall frame around the blond, trying to sooth the tension out of his muscles. Draco had taken the prophecy and the abduction of his Master very hard. He hadn’t spoken since Hadrian had been taken. The glow in his eyes and the runes that still showed through, a full day later, testified to his lasting rage.
“Sleep, Dragon,” he urged, using the name the three of them had used together. “The Dark Lord has the whole Dark side searching for him. Hadrian’s not about to die at Dumbledore’s hands. Remember how many times the Muggles tried to kill him? Even as Hadrian Riddle-Black, he’s the bloody Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die.”
Draco took a deep, shuddering breath, unclenching his muscles. He buried his head into Theo’s chest and let out a dry sob.
“I need him, Thorn,” he whispered into the fabric of his shirt. “I need my Master, my Wizard.”
“I know, Dragon,” Theo whispered back, running his fingers through fine blond hair. “I need him too.”
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Bracing his mind for another mental attack, Hadrian gripped the chains around his wrists with white knuckles. He made his shields slick like oil, allowing the attacking probe no purchase. After a few moments, he changed them to act like funhouse mirrors, reflecting grotesque caricatures of his attacker until the man withdrew. With a scream of rage, Albus Dumbledore set another Bludgeoning Hex at his exposed ribcage. Hadrian felt another bone snap, this one dangerously close to his lungs. He coughed up a small amount of blood and spat it in the old wizard’s face.
“I’m not going to break for you, old fool,” he croaked. “You’ve met with my mind before. My mindscape is more impenetrable than the real Azkaban.” He laughed at the frustration and hatred on his opponent’s face.
“Crucio!” Hadrian pulled harder at the chains, lifting his feet off the ground. He refused to break for anyone, least of all this sad excuse for a Light Lord. Lord Voldemort couldn’t make him scream in the graveyard during his fourth year, what chance did a Light wizard have? He knew Dumbledore wanted to hear his screams, so he laughed more as his muscles twitched and began to sing a little ditty in German.
“’Rosamunde, schenk mir Dein Herz und sag ja.
‘Rosamunde, frag doch nicht erst die Mama.
‘Rosamunde, glaub mir auch ich bin Dir treu.
‘Denn zur Stunde Rosamunde, ist mein Herz grade noch frei.’”
Dumbledore let the curse go with another shout of anger. Hadrian knew he didn’t want to risk permanent madness, which was why he was playing up the so-called Black insanity, making it look like he teetered on the knife blade of lunacy already. He spat out more blood and laughed again.
“Is that all for today, old man? You’d best run along now, before anyone starts asking questions at school.” The man tossed a Cutting Hex across his chest and stomped toward the door. Hermione came in to keep watch. Hadrian grinned, she was so easy to rile up.
“Evening, Mudblood. Or is it morning?”
“S-Shut up,” she ordered shakily. Her eyes flicked across his bare chest to the cuts and bruises trailing down towards pants hanging dangerously low on his hips. Watching her gaze, Hadrian came up with a new game to play with her. He looked at her through half-lidded eyes, giving a smoldering crooked smile. Pulling on the chains to flex the muscles in his arms, he leaned towards her provocatively.
“Like what you see?” he asked in a low, seductive purr. Her eyes snapped back to his as she blushed bright red. “Finding out something new about yourself?” he prodded. “Do you like me tied up here, completely at your mercy? You could do anything to me, you know. There’s not a thing I could do to stop you. So tell me, love, is the chains or the blood?”
She squeaked, face practically glowing in the dark, and ran for the door.
Hadrian’s delighted laughter echoed off the stone walls of his prison for long minutes.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Alex shared a nervous glance with Adrian Pucey as his knock on Professor McGonagall’s office door. The soft Scottish voice beckoned them in.
“Oh, Mr. Pucey, Mr. Dolohov, I didn’t expect to see you here!” She exclaimed, gesturing to the chairs. “Is there something I can help you with that Professor Snape can’t?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ad answered. “We’ve already asked Professor Snape, and he didn’t know. We would ask the Headmaster, but he isn’t here often enough for us to find him, so we came to the Deputy Headmistress.” He flashed a tentative, vulnerable smile that had Alex admiring his friend’s acting skills.
“Well, I can understand that. What seems to be the trouble?” The best thing about McGonagall was her fairness towards all students. She would dismiss them out of hand just because they wore green and silver. Alex took the chance to speak up, making his tone as worried and scared as possible.
“Well, Professor, we were just wondering if you knew what happened to Hadrian. He just disappeared after the feast last week.” Alex bit his lip, trying to look vulnerable and in need of help to appeal to her Gryffindor need to save. “I know he came back, ‘cause I sat with him on the train and at the feast, and he promised to help me with my Charms work, but nobody’s seen him.”
McGonagall sat back in her chair with a frown. The confusion in her eyes told Alex that Dumbledore hadn’t told his staff anything about his plans. The old coot hadn’t even given an excuse to use in case some of the students asked questions.
“I don’t rightly know, Mr. Dolohov. Next time I see the Headmaster I’ll ask him. I’ll let Professor Snape know what he says, and he can tell you and Mr. Pucey here, alright?” There was genuine concern in her voice. Minerva McGonagall didn’t like the thought of harm befalling any student, no matter what house. Alex nodded.
“Thank you, Professor. That would be great,” Ad told her and they got up. He held the door open for Alex as they left and turned to him as soon as it was shut securely.
“The teachers haven’t got a clue. Looks like we’re on our own here.” Alex sadly agreed.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Waking to pain was becoming a common occurrence in Hadrian’s little world. His little prison had no windows, and there was no way for him to tell how much time had passed since he was abducted. Several times a day, he guessed, either one of the Weasleys or Hermione came in the taunt him about his helplessness. He always mocked them right back, matching insult for insult. They had such beautiful tempers, like oil, and he was a clever match. They didn’t seem to understand that his mind was a fortress, literally, and their words had no chance of reaching him.
It was about two weeks into his captivity, he supposed, that they changed his position. This time when he woke, he found himself forced onto his knees on the stone floor stained with his blood. His legs were still shackled to the floor by short chains, bent beneath him. His wrists, still bound together and chained to the ceiling, were behind his back and tethered as high as possible towards the ceiling. The position pulled painfully on his dislocated shoulders. He might have been able to relieve it by standing up, except that his collar was tethered to the floor on a short chain, not even long enough to sit up fully.
Hadrian bit back a groan at the feeling of his weight pushing broken kneecaps into the stone floor. Blinking back into awareness, the Bone Man ran an inventory of his injuries. Most or all of his ribs were broken. With his magic dampened, they were healing slowly but nothing had punctured a lung yet. All his fingers had been broken in at least one place. His right arm was fractured near his shoulder, his left wrist twisted and sprained. The tendons in his left knee had all been cut to hobble him, just in case. More cuts and gouges than he could count covered his body. His clothes had been shredded long ago, leaving him naked on the cold stone.
Hadrian hadn’t eaten since he had arrived in his prison, but whenever Dumbledore came he gave him water and a few sips of nutrient potion. Just enough to keep him alive. The manipulative goat planned on using him as bait for his father, and he still wanted answers. Whenever he asked what Hadrian had done to Harry Potter, the Bone Man laughed and mocked him in other languages. He was particularly fond of making lewd references to him and Grindlewald in Old English. The old man had recently taken to Legillimency, trying to force his way into Hadrian’s mind for answers. Hadrian always won, but it was tiring him out, with his near-constant blood loss and lack of food.
This time it was apparently Ron’s turn to watch him. The redhead sat in the corner, twirling his wand in one hand. Pure hatred was etched across his face.
“Well, hullo again, Weasel. Still a Blood Traitor?” he greeted cheerily. Ron spat at him.
“Afternoon, Black. Still a murderer and scum?” he returned. Hadrian winked at him.
“Yup. You know, the fact that I’ve killed people isn’t going to change, no matter how long you keep me here.”
“Shut up!” Hadrian got a cut across his cheek for his cheek. He licked the blood away and grinned. Ron blanched. Hadrian was doing an excellent job of faking the infamous Black madness.
“I always did like blood. Such a pretty color, you know? And the taste!” He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. “You think your girlfriend would let me taste hers? I’ve never had a Mudblood before.”
Ron growled at him, jumping up and striding across the room. He gave Hadrian a hard kick across the jaw and jammed his toe hard into his ribs.
“You just shut up about Hermione. She’s better than you’ll ever be, you Dark bastard.” Hadrian looked up with wide, curious eyes.
“Really? Was her family and blood blessed by a unicorn? Does she have an alliance with the Goblin Nation? Is she stronger than Merlin? Is she the Wizard-Lord, whose coming was foretold over a thousand years ago?” He smirked at Ron’s blank look. “No, that’s all me, isn’t it? Yup, all me.” He jerked his head toward the door as best he could. “Now run off and fetch the goat. I think it’s time he learned a few things about me, don’t you?”
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Blaise was woken from a fitful sleep by a bloodcurdling scream. Everyone who was searching for Hadrian, follower or supporter, Dark or Grey, had taken to sleeping in the Room of Requirement. The Room had become a giant dormitory with one room full of beds, two bathrooms (boys and girls), and passages that connected to all the dormitories the students were supposed to sleep in as well as the kitchens. Only Gryffindor Tower wasn’t connected to the Room.
Immediately the Room blazed with lights. Across the dormitory, Luna Lovegood was screaming, thrashing and tangled in the sheets of the bed she shared with Adrian Pucey. Pucey was desperately trying to hold her still when Blaise dashed over and pushed his way through the crowd.
Luna’s eyes were open but unfixed. They were an opaque white, staring at the ceiling without seeing, flicking rapid from side to side.
“Luna. Luna! What is it?!” Pucey was shouting, trying to hold down the blonde. “Luna, WHAT DO YOU SEE?!” She grew still, finally, but her eyes still remained blind to the world around her.
“It’s coming,” she whispered harshly. “The moment is coming, but the ending is still hidden. Chains will break tomorrow night. Blood will flow, and the reaper’s blade with fall. Tomorrow night.”
“Where, Luna?” Blaise demanded. “Where? Where is he?!” She drew in a long breath that rattled in her chest like a Dementor’s.
“Tomorrow night. The ending, the final moment. Tomorrow night,” she repeated, still lost in the visions of Fate.
“WHERE?!” Pucey shouted. Luna’s eyes cleared, turning silver-blue again and fixing on Blaise’s.
“Godric’s Hollow.”
Blaise jumped up, shoving students aside mindlessly as he ran for the secure connection in the corner. He tossed in the powder and threw himself into the green flames.
“RIDDLE MANOR!”
*** ***
Rabastan paced, pulling at his hair. He hadn’t slept a full night since his arwr had been taken, and it had taken a toll on him over those two weeks. He felt weak and shaky, but he could help himself. He desperately needed Hadrian back in his grasp. Hadrian was his love, his heart, his life. He swore to himself that if he got Hadrian back he would bond with him for enternity.
His Lord sat ramrod straight on the sofa of the sitting room, clutching at Barty with white-knuckled hands. The Dark Lord had run himself ragged directing the search, personally investigating every possible lead. Barty had risked being cursed night after night forcing the Lord into bed to sleep a few hours.
Across the room, Draco and Theo had dark bags under their eyes. Draco had reacted particularly badly to the loss of his Master, barely speaking. Rabastan had heard that he was plagued by nightmares that woke Theo as well, since they shared a bed now. The two had found some form of solace in each other. In the moments when Rabastan allowed himself to think about the future, he guessed they would probably stay together if – when – Hadrian returned, leaving his arwr to him entirely.
Near them, Bella cried into a very pale Rodolphus’s shoulder as he held his wife. Bella and Rudo had always wanted a child. Even without being really theirs, Hadrian had been a blessing to them. Bella was such a loving mother, and Rudo was immensely proud of his step-son.
“You’re sure?” The Dark Lord croaked into the silence, questioning the Zabini boy who had come rushing into the Manor with news.
“Yes,” the Italian boy answered shortly. “I don’t think you’ll be able to find him until ‘the moment’ comes, whatever that is. He’s probably hidden behind war wards, maybe underground. If I were you, I’d be set up in Godric’s Hollow, ready for tomorrow night, so you can overwhelm them.”
“Very well. Thank you,” the Lord dismissed the boy shortly, leaving to put together a plan of attack.
“Could Luna see anything else?” Theo asked desperately. Blaise shook his head sadly.
“Nothing she hasn’t seen before. Blood, pain, death, hidden ending. We’re on our own.”
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
A sharp slap across the face woke Hadrian suddenly. Albus Dumbledore stood before him, triumph lighting his eyes.
“Lord Black, I believe you have some information for me?” Hadrian smirked at the self-satisfied tone. The goat really believed he had won. He didn’t think that Hadrian could keep holding up, that he was just bored, which was what was actually happening.
“Ah, yes, Headmaster. I think we’ll start with some background on me, alright? Please, sit.” He jerked his head towards the chair in the corner as best he could. Dumbledore settled primly on the hard wooden seat, directing his wand toward Hadrian with a steady hand.
“Begin.” Hadrian nodded and licked his lips. This was going to be fun.
“Once upon a time,” he began with a smirk, “there was a very unhappy little boy. He didn’t have a family, see, not really. He lived with a family of filthy Muggles that called him Freak and Monster and kept him in a cupboard under the stairs.” A faint flash of recognition in Dumbledore’s eyes made him grin. “In fact, this little boy didn’t even know he had a normal name until he started school.
“Then, the magic started. This little boy knew nothing about magic. All he knew was that sometimes, strange things happened that made his Muggle relatives beat him. When this little boy turned eleven, someone came and told him he wasn’t a Freak or Monster, he was a wizard! There was a reason for all the things he could do! They took him to another world, one where everyone knew his name, where he was special and loved. Or so he thought.
“Then, that person took him back to the filthy Muggles. That was the first time his Uncle cut his throat open, the first time his own family really tried to kill him.” Hadrian coughed through his dry throat, enjoying the pale color of the old coot’s skin. The wand hand was still steady, though. He would have to change that.
“I think you know the main points of the story, Headmaster, but let me fill in a few points for you. Just to give you the full picture, you know.
“This little boy saved the world at the age of eleven, just like everyone expected him to. Then, he begged his Headmaster to stay in the school. This poor little boy knew his family would just try to kill him again. But the Headmaster said no, told him he was safest with those Muggles!
“So he went ‘home’ to those filth. And his Uncle cut his throat again and waited a week for him to die. Then they beat him and burned him and bled him for the rest of the summer, until he went back to school and saved the useless, incompetent magical world, again.” He paused to smirk at the old man, who was positively grey by that point. “Do you know this boy’s name yet, sir?”
“Harry Potter,” Dumbledore whispered brokenly.
“The very same! And you know, he found out about all your little schemes and he hated you for them. All those blocks on his magic, keeping him your little Light pawn, your human shield. The Dementors found them, and they just,” Hadrian ignored the burning of the collar as he gathered his magic, shattering the chain leading from his neck to the floor with a sharp tug, “broke them. All your restrictions on his core, your blocks on his blood heritage, keeping him from communing with Hogwarts,” he snapped the shackles on his legs, “gone.”
“I- I don’t know what…” Dumbledore stuttered, wand hand shaking. Hadrian gave a cold smile, clenching his jaw against the burning pain of the white-hot color. Vaguely he noticed it smelled like roast beef.
“Oh, I think you do. You, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, tried to hold down a wizards stronger than Merlin. You tried to hinder a wizard whose coming was foretold by the races a thousand years ago. You tried to turn the Wizard-Lord into your pawn.” He broke the chain on his wrists into a million slivers of iron, then lashed out with his mind, pressing Dumbledore down and immobilizing him. And he will not forgive you.
Dumbledore cried out at the force of his statement, spoken with his thoughts and voice.
“Harry…Harry, please,” he gasped. “What have you done, Harry?”
What I should have done long ago, Headmaster. I trained with the Dementors within Azkaban itself and took my rightful place as their Wizard-Lord. With the goblins’ assistance, I claimed the titles you hid from me, and I declared Harry Potter dead. He took hold of the collar with both hands, ignoring the instant burns on his palms, and shattered it with a burst of pure power.
Magic rushed through his body. He could feel the pain of cuts, bruises and broken bones fading, and he cast a glamour that would hide his injuries away, making them look healed. With two massive pops, his shoulders were forced back into place, followed by his wrist. He created a sheath or pure magic around his knee with the ligaments cut, allowing him to stand and walk normally. Hadrian allowed his power to roll through the room, turning the air ice-cold. Puddles of his blood on the floor froze over, frost gathered on the stone walls of his prison. His breath hung in an icy curtain before his face. He stood, rolling out his neck and shoulders.
I took control of my magic and my life. I gathered faithful followers, and I joined the right side of this foolish war you created. The Light always used me, loving or hating me depending on the day of the week. You told me to save a world that made no effort to save itself. You made me sacrifice myself. You threw me to filthy Muggles that tried to kill me. They cut my throat once a summer. My Uncle tried to carve my heart out more times than I can count. Did you tell them to do it, to keep me weak and pliable? I killed them this summer, you know. Does that make you proud, Headmaster?
Imagine my wonder when I found a different world in Azkaban of all places! Where I found the Dementors, who will always follow me loyally. Where I found the knowledge of criminals was greater than any I had ever seen in the Light. Where I found a man who loves me despite my past, not becase of it.
So I killed Harry Potter, and then I joined the Dark. The Dark loves me for who I am, not for some name I carry. In the Dark I have a real family and friends. I have a wonderful mother in Bellatrix Lestrange. I have a proud step-father in her husband. I have clever, wonderful friend in my father’s consort, Barty Crouch, Jr. Hadrian chuckled at the old man’s gasp. Oh, didn’t I tell you? I knew who Barty was the whole time, just like he knew who I really was. The Dementors gave me his soul, and I kept it safe in my mindscape while the Ministry so kindly took care of his body in Azkaban. I put him back together for my father, who loves me fiercely. I’ve never seen love like my family has in the Light.
In the Dark, I am respected for being me. I made a name for myself on my own power, a name that is whispered in fear in every house in Britain.
Hadrian pushed power into his runes, lighting up his skeleton Killing Curse green in the dim room.
I am the Bone Man, the Wizard-Lord, Lord Black, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, and your life is forfeit to mine.
Bringing his hands together in a sharp clap, Hadrian let out enough power to shatter the wards hiding his prison from the world. His father would be able to find him now. With a bloodthirsty grin, he wrapped Dumbledore up in conjured chains and levitated him out the door.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Magic swept in a powerful wave across Godric’s Hollow, cresting and breaking against the Dark forces assembled on the outskirts. The front ranks dropped as though hit by stunners. Voldemort gasped as the familiar power of it struck him hard in the chest, making him stagger. Around him, eyes went wide as the teens and the Lestrange family began to smile and whisper.
“Hadrian! He’s coming!”
“He’s alright!”
“We can find him now!”
“Silence!” he ordered. The Dark Lord had his gaze fixed on a small house near the center of the village. Wards were melting around it, glowing blood-red and sickly yellow to his magical sight. “There,” he pointed. “Draco, Theo, Rabastan, with me. Barty, Rodolphus, Bella, wait fifteen minutes before you follow. Lucius, maintain command here.”
“Yes, my Lord,” everyone bowed, acquiescing. Voldemort drew his yew and holly wands, and he and the four members of the first group apparated away to the little house.
Arriving on the edge of the property, they watched as the last of the wards shattered into glittering shards of energy. The mental presence they had all been missing rolled outward, sinking into their minds and filling them with borrowed rage. Hadrian’s magic was too angry to allow them near the house. It lashed out, forcing them to their knees. Voldemort could only watch helplessly from the dirt as the door opened.
Framed in the doorway was the Bone Man in all his glory. Naked, his thousands of runes shone bright Avada Kedavra green through his skin, his magic whipping an artic wind around him. He was a being of power and destruction, of rage and pain and vengeance, a Dark god on earth. He was glorious and beautiful, and Voldemort had never loved his son more than in that moment.
Seeing the five wizards bowing under his power, Hadrian reached back into the doorway. He threw a bound and petrified body through the door, letting it fall casually on the dirt.
Albus Dumbledore, Father, his son informed them in a tired voice. Then he collapsed.
*** ***
Rabastan clenched the bedpost with white-knuckled hands as Narcissa and Pucey worked on the thin, broken boy lying still and silent under the covers. When Narcissa had done the diagnostic spells she had turned alarmingly white and sat down quickly before her knees collapsed. She had not spoken since then, except to give directions to young Pucey.
Finally, sweaty and grey-skinned, they finished casting spells and pouring potions down Hadrian’s throat. Pucey helped the Lady Malfoy into a nearby chair and summoned an elf to bring her a cup of tea.
“Is he…?” Rabastan found himself unable to finish the question. Hadrian had collapsed in Godric’s Hollow, but visibly he had seemed alright. It was not until he was safe in bed that the Dark Lord had noticed the glamours. He had nearly exhausted himself stripping them away, but he managed to reveal the broken, mangled mess hidden beneath incredibly powerful spells. Cuts, bruises, broken bones…Rabastan had nearly been sick at the sight.
“If it were anyone else in that bed, I would say no. In fact, if it were anyone else, they probably would have given up and died a week ago, but it’s Hadrian. He’s survived so much, he’ll probably survive this too,” the Lady Healer’s voice was weary and incredulous. Rabastan allowed himself to relax somewhat. His sigh of relief was echoed by the other Malfoys, Theo, Bella and the Dark Lord. Barty dashed out of the room to tell everyone else the good news.
“How bad was it?” the Dark Lord questioned tightly.
“Very,” Narcissa replied with a blank face. She listed off his wounds in a detached voice. “All his ribs were broken at least once, as were his fingers. Both knees were dislocated at some point and his kneecaps shattered. Both shoulders showed signs of having been pulled out of their joints for an extended period. Connective tissue there and in his left wrist is stretched and torn. One of his arms has a serious fracture near the shoulder. All the ligaments in his left knee were cut through.” She blew out a shaky breath. “Technically, he shouldn’t have been able to walk out of that house. It’s a miracle he could summon the strength to hold his knee in place to stand at all. He shows evidence of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse, repeated attacks on his mind, and…and it’s my belief that the burns around his neck were caused by a magic suppression collar.”
“Oh, my little arwr,” Rabastan whispered, brushing gentle fingers across the bandages covering the charred skin on Hadrian’s neck, “they’ll die for what they’ve done to you.”
“Indeed they shall,” the Dark Lord promised. “Narcissa, when can we expect him to wake?”
“I can’t tell, my Lord,” Lady Malfoy murmured. “Normally, I would say in about five days, as that’s when his body will be fully healed, but Hadrian has always been stubborn. He might wake up tomorrow morning, or he might be hidden behind Occlumency shields and not wake for a month or more. It all depends on the mental damage he’s taken, but I am no Legillimens. I can’t tell how much damage that manipulative bastard caused trying to force information from his mind.”
The Dark Lord growled at her words, and Rabastan agreed. How dare that fool try to rape his arwr’s mind? As Lucius ushered everyone from the room, Rabastan settled himself obstinately on the bed beside his broken lover, refusing to leave him alone again. The Dark Lord doused the lights and closed the door, and the stubborn wizard closed his eyes to his first restful sleep in weeks.
*** ***
Voldemort looked down at the ragged man sleeping in his cell. He woke the worthless man with a sharp kick.
“My, how the mighty have fallen, Albus,” he sneered down at the man.
“You’ve made a mistake, Tom,” the man croaked. “They will be coming for me, and you cannot stop the Light.”
“No, YOU have made the mistake!” he roared before pulling his temper back with effort. “Taking my Hadrian, my son, was an act of war. Until now, I have been quiet. I have not ordered major raids or wholesale slaughter, as you would have the Ministry believe. Now, because of you, the Ministry will fall, as will Hogwarts. As soon as Hadrian is awake, the orders will go out. You will watch your world fall from inside this cell, and then you will die beside those students who helped you and dared lay hands on my son.” He smiled coldly at the prospect. “I daresay Hadrian will put on a show.”
Albus looked at him in confusion, his eyes clouded with pain and exhaustion. The Dark Lord laughed.
“Yes, the Bone Man will enjoy his toys while they last. He did explain that, didn’t he? Hadrian Riddle-Black, the Bone Man, one and the same. Remember Emmeline Vance? Amelia Bones? The Bone Man is a master in a field of one, an artist. My faithful will enjoy the spectacle.”
“Oh, Tom, what have you done to Harry?” the man questioned sadly. Voldemort clenched his hands inside his sleeves to keep from cursing the fool.
“I have done nothing that was not set up by you!” he growled. “You set up the false prophecy in the beginning. You sent me after Harry Potter, hoping we would destroy each other. Do not think to compare what I have done, what Hadrian has forgiven, to what you have done to my son these past weeks!”
“I have done nothing to Harry Potter,” sniffed the fool haughtily. Voldemort’s echoing laugh was high and cold, without an ounce of real humor.
“Still deluding yourself, Albus? That boy was Harry Potter! He has changed his name and renounced his blood, but his soul is the same. He still has memories of growing up in a cupboard under the stairs, just because you claimed there were ‘blood protections’! There’s no such thing! I failed to kill him as you wished because he is favored by Fate and Magic. I went against the strongest wizard Magic has ever created, and I lost!” He crouched down to whisper to the worthless fool. “Hadrian forgave me, and I love him for it. Ask yourself, old friend: how likely is he to forgive you?”
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
The outer wall of Azkaban was pockmarked with cracks and deep gouges. For all that Hadrian’s mind had seemed impenetrable, the Headmaster’s attacks had actually caused a fair amount of damage. The sea around the prison roiled with Hadrian’s anger, and thunderstorms raged in the sky overhead. Hadrian himself, along with his Dementor charges, was circling to outer wall. He was beginning the long process of putting his mind back together again.
It was no easy task. The cracks and holes could only be healed by him, but each one cause pain whenever he touched it. The Dementor souls in his mindscape could only offer him their energy and their support.
When he wasn’t working on the wall, he was building a pair of special cells deep underground. In one, he hid his memories of being Harry Potter in the wizarding world: every time someone called him Potter or the Boy-Who-Lived, every time his father had tried to kill him, every time people looked to him to save them without lifting a finger themselves.
In the other cell went the memories of his torture at the hands of Albus Dumbledore. These memories he created copies of, making sure they were as detailed and accurate as possible. It was these memories he would show the people who doubted his claims and stood by the old fool’s claim of innocence.
The two cells had taken a long time to complete, though Hadrian couldn’t be sure of how long. Just like in his prison, time had no real meaning in his mind. Hours or days or mere minutes could have passed since he collapsed in the doorway of the old Dumbledore home in Godric’s Hollow.
Hadrian sighed and braced himself for the wave of pain as he stuck his hand in another hole in the wall and began to seal it.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
The Ministry and Hogwarts were in a panic, and Voldemort was laughing.
Albus Dumbledore was gone, missing, vanished, and no one seemed to know how or why, though the papers were full of speculation.
“They’ll know why soon enough,” the Dark Lord laughed to himself as he tossed aside the last paper Severus had brought him. He turned to the dark-haired man with an evil smirk on his face. “Severus, I want you to write a letter to the editor of the Daily Prophet. Tell them about Hadrian Riddle-Black’s disappearance from school last month, and how Dumbledore refused to answer questions about it. Tell them how he was found in the Dumbledore family home in Godric’s Hollow. Describe the state you found him in.” Severus bowed his head at the order, but paused.
“My Lord, they are not likely to believe me. Dumbledore is an icon to them,” he argued logically. Voldemort agreed, but he had a solution already.
“They will believe you if you include a written magical oath of your truthfulness, signed in blood. You will write only the truth about what happened, but you will not say everything you know. Bring the letter to me when you have finished.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
Voldemort sat back as Severus swept away. It was time to begin his plans. Hadrian’s body was healed. His son would wake soon, and when he did, the world would fall to the Dark.
*** ***
Rabastan was reading Severus’s letter to the editor when he felt the body next to him stir. Throwing the paper to the side, he clutched the boy’s hands tightly.
“Hadrian?” he whispered, hardly daring to believe it. Slowly, achingly slow, Hadrian’s mind rolled over his. Rabastan could have cried with joy.
//Dihiryn?// came the quiet question. He let out a sob of relief.
“Arwr,” he breathed, holding the boy tightly to his chest. “Can you look at me, Hadrian? Let me so those gorgeous mismatched eyes of your?”
Hadrian’s eyelids fluttered, then blinked rapidly and squinted. His gaze sought out his lovers, stilling when it met deep blue orbs shining with love and happiness.
“Rabastan,” he smiled weakly. “Dihiryn…”
Rabastan just held him close, intending to never let him go again.
*** ***
Theo’s hand slipped on the card, sending his house of cards fluttering to the table. Draco looked up from his book at Theo’s wide eyes with confusion.
“Wha-“ He cut himself of as he felt a presence in his mind. It was weak, but it was warm and safe and comforting and he’d missed it so much.
//Hello, Dragon. Hello, Thorn.//
Draco whipped around to face the door, book falling carelessly from limp hands.
“Hadrian?” Theo asked. There he was in the doorway, leaning heavily on Rabastan’s shoulder. He looked tired and aged, but he was alive and that was all that mattered.
“My Master,” Draco threw himself on his knees before Hadrian, afraid that he would break if he hugged him. Hadrian just chuckled.
“Have you missed me, Dragon?” He kissed Draco on the brow, then did the same for Theo, who knelt beside him. “Come, let’s go tell my father I’m alright so he can stop feeling bad about me and start having sex with Barty again.” He tossed them an exasperated look over his shoulder. “Poor man hasn’t been laid in fifteen years, I’m not about to prolong his dry spell.”
Taking Theo’s hand, Draco laughed and followed his friend and master.
*** ***
The Dark Lord nearly spat out his afternoon tea all over Barty when he felt Hadrian in his mind. As it was, he did choke on it a bit, prompting Barty to thump him on the back a bit. Barty found this hilarious.
He had been just as worried as everyone else. Even if no one had known it, Barty counted the Bone Man as his best friend. That happens sometimes when you live in someone’s mindscape for over a year, after all. He had been there through it all when Hadrian had dealt with the detentions from the Umbridge bitch, with her lines and her blood quill and her stupid painted kitten plates. He had been there when the Muggles had tried to carve out Hadrian’s heart, when they cut that word into his back, making sure he never forgot it. Barty was the voice in his head, the friend no one could ever take away. He was proud he would be able to count the boy as his son very soon.
He had only a glimpse of the boy, supported by Rabastan and looking tired but happy, before he was engulfed in the cloak of the Dementor King. Everyone in the room stared, surprised by such a show of emotion from the creature.
“My Wizard!” the King murmured, hugging the boy tightly. Hadrian laughed.
“Greetings to you too, Great Royal,” he said, hugging the creature back. Barty reached over and closed his lover’s mouth before anyone spotted the Dark Lord with his jaw on the floor.
“Hadrian! What are you doing out of bed?” he scolded lightly, stepping up to hug the young wizard next as the Dementor King released him.
“Oh, my son. It’s so good to see you awake,” the Dark Lord murmured, wrapping them both in his long arms.
*** ***
Albus Dumbledore looked up when the door to the dungeons opened, abandoning his endless mental recitation of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood. Two sets of footsteps moved closer until he could see the owners, upside-down from his position, laying on his back on the floor.
“Afternoon, Professor,” Black greeted genially. Albus glared at him. “Oh, now, don’t be like that, Professor! After all, isn’t my hospitality as good as yours? In fact, it might even be better. After all, you can still move. No one’s put a collar on you and chained you up, like some kind of animal!”
The pale, thin man beside Black looked at him with wide eyes.
“He did what?” Black waved away his questions.
“Not now, Barty. Oh, how forgetful of me! You’ve met Barty, haven’t you, Professor? Just the once, when you questioned him and then ordered him Kissed, if I recall.” Crouch blanched, and Black wrapped a gentle arm around his waist. “Hush, Barty, I know,” he murmured. Albus sneered at the sight.
“Another toy, Black? Do you fall on your back for anyone on the Dark side now?” he taunted, trying to be strong. He watched with faint trepidation as Black’s dark eye turned red. Both eyes glowed with his power.
“Now, Professor, that wasn’t very nice, was it? Barty here and my father are devoted to each other, and I would sooner die than sleep with the Dark Lord’s Consort. And, not that it’s any of your business, but I’ll have you know that the Dark would fall over themselves to fall on their backs for me, but my standards are better than that. Crucio.” Albus writhed and screamed at the pain of the curse for a moment before it was lifted. “I think you should learn to mind your words around me, Headmaster. I came down here to give you some information you might find useful, after all.”
“Are you…are you helping me, Harry?” he gasped out, snatching at the hope Black’s words gave him, trying to remind him of the boy he had once been. A boot collided with his stomach in response.
“Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again,” Black ground out. Crouch put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, calming him. “Now, I came down here to tell you that everything you know has ended. The world you manipulated is over.”
“No!” cried the old wizard. Black smirked.
“Yes. The Ministry fell two days ago. Hogwarts fell yesterday. Lucius Malfoy is Minister, and Severus Snape is Headmaster. My Lord Father has replaced you as Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot,” Black informed him coldly.
“Are you going to kill me now?” Albus asked seriously. Black and Crouch laughed.
“Kill you? Yes, but not yet. You haven’t had your trial yet, see? You will stand trial before the full court of the Wizengamot for your crimes, and I will supply my memories as evidence. There really isn’t any doubt that you’ll be found guilty. Then, my father will sentence you to death, and I will carry out the sentence as my restitution.” Albus felt faint.
“Have mercy,” he begged. Black sneered.
“The only mercy I will show will be in allowing you to die in the end. You didn’t even show me that, when I was chained to the floor in your basement. With you suppressing my magic, it might have even worked.” He spun on his heel and left, but stopped at the door and tossed one last remark over his shoulder. “Hermione, Ron, and Ginny will stand trial with you. Remember that your actions will end up sentencing three school children to death as well.” And he was gone, the door swinging shut with a bang.
*** ***
“Ronald Billius Weasley, Ginerva Molly Weasley, and Hermione Jean Granger, you stand accused of the torture and captivity of Lord Gallus Hadrian Riddle-Black. How do you plead?”
Voldemort’s voice was cold as Ron struggled in his chair, chained to the arms and legs. He refused to speak, spitting at the bastard instead. If only Harry hadn’t up and fucking died, everything would have gone alright. Voldemort would have been killed, Harry would have sacrificed himself, and Ron and his family would have split his money.
“Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot, you have seen the evidence in the memories of Lord Black. Does anyone here dispute the guilt of the three accused?”
Not a single hand was raised. Eyes around the courtroom stared at them with cold hatred.
“Then the accused are found guilty. Ronald Billius Weasley, you are sentenced to death at the hand of the Bone Man at his earliest convenience. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Fuck you! That bastard son of yours deserved it!” Ron struggled to shout more as he was hit with a silencing spell.
“Ginerva Molly Weasley, you are sentenced to death at the hand of the Bone Man at his earliest convenience. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“You only won ‘cause Harry’s dead! If he was here you’d be dead!” Ginny screamed, tears running down her face.
“My Lord Father, if I may?” Black asked from his seat nearby. Voldemort nodded, and Black cast a silencing barrier around himself, Ron, and Ginny. Ron glared at him, and Ginny opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. Black had silenced them both.
“You think Harry Potter would save you? Harry Potter is the reason you’re here, yes, but not the way you’re thinking,” he told them coldly. “Harry Potter vanished from the train last year and went to Gringotts. You know he claimed his titles and vaults, but did you know he also declared himself legally dead?” Ron and Ginny stared at him with wide eyes, making him chuckle darkly.
“Harry James Potter declared himself legally dead and took a new name. You know what he chose? Gallus. Hadrian. Black.” Ron went limp, realizing everything he had done at last. “You used Harry Potter as a tool, and when he tried to escape it all and follow his destiny and his ideals, you tortured him. Think about everything you’ve done to Harry Potter, to me, and then try to look me in the eyes when I kill you.”
Black released the barrier, but Ron and Ginny remained silenced as he returned to his seat and nodded curtly to Voldemort.
“Hermione Jean Granger, for your lesser involvement, you are sentenced to life in Azkaban. May Death have mercy on your soul, because the Dementors certainly won’t.”
“So mote be it,” answered every member of the Wizengamot, sealing their fates.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
The Bone Man looked down on his prey with a predatory smile, cold and wild. Ginny whimpered at the icy feeling of his mind on hers.
“Such a pretty toy. The girl who would be Lady Potter, Lady Black.” He scoffed. “They could have picked someone more refined to try for marriage to a Most Ancient and Noble House. Someone more male might have gone over better.” He laughed at Ginny’s affronted look. “Yes, you never had a chance with me. Wrong bits entirely.
“Now, how shall we begin? I know! We’ll start with your magic first.” With a single hard pull, Hadrian ripped the magic from her core. If he let her be at this point, she would be a Squib for the rest of her life.
Ginny screamed.
“Hush, dear, we haven’t even done all that much yet. I think, for you, your death will be quick,” he mused. “How about this; I’ll kill you just as soon as you look me in the eyes and think about everything you’ve done to me, someone who once counted you a friend,” he decided. “Come on, Ginny dear, look at me. Remember when I saved you from the Basilisk? Remember when we went to the World Cup? Look at me!”
Fearful brown eyes met his, and he snapped her neck between his hands. She died instantly. Hadrian stepped back and wandlessly set fire to her body before looking at Ron. The redhead stood bound and silenced on the sidelines, held up by his brothers Fred and George. Hadrian grinned at the Fire Gemini.
//How shall I entertain you tonight, my Fire Gemini?//
“Kill him slowly, Master,” the twins spoke together, bowing.
“Then I shall.” He stalked toward Ron, thoroughly enjoying his wide, rolling eyes with the white visible all the way around. He stated breaking bones, one at a time, beginning with his fingers and toes.
“How about you, Ron? Was it really that hard to be my friend, that you had to be paid in the end? I never had a friend before you, you know. Side effect of growing up in a cupboard with a bully of a cousin that ran everyone off.” He shrugged, dismissing the past. He snapped Ron’s lower legs, then the bones in his forearms. “Can you look me in the eyes? Remember that first day on the train. Remember when I saved your only sister. Remember when we snuck into the Slytherin dungeons Polyjuiced as Crabbe and Goyle. Remember everything you did to me while I was hung from the ceiling in Dumbledore’s basement and look me in the eyes while I kill you!”
He waited, snapping ribs one by one. As soon as Ron’s pained blue eyes flashed up to his, he snapped the final rib and plunged it into his lungs. Then he stepped back and joined Fred and George in watching their little brother drown in his own blood.
“Any regrets?” he asked them.
“None,” they replied together. “When’s Dumbledore?”
“Tonight, at the full meeting,” he answered, then the only sound was Ron’s wheezing as he slowly died.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Voldemort sat on his throne in the Reception Hall, Barty to his left and an empty seat on his right. The rightful occupant was on the floor below the dais, circling a screaming old man. This was the event the Dark ranks had longed for and gathered to see: the execution of Albus Dumbledore. Hadrian released Albus from the Cruciatus Curse, speaking aloud for all to hear.
“Oh, hush now, old friend. I never screamed while you tortured me. How can you beg for mercy when I’m only returning a favor? Oh, now, none of that! I’ll have to take away your magic if you try to kill me like that! Wandless Killing Curses are so difficult, aren’t they, Albus?”
There was a snap of power in the room that meant Hadrian had stripped Dumbledore’s core from him.
“There, that’s better! After all, why should you get your magic when you kept me from mine? Now, how shall we begin?” Hadrian raised his head to address the assembled Death Eaters. “Tell me, my friends, which bones shall he lose first?”
Answers were shouted out gleefully and Hadrian chuckled.
“Very well, my friends. Dear Albus, Rodolphus Lestrange would like to see you without fingers.” Unlike his usual kills, the Bone Man ripped Albus’s fingers through his flesh, leaving gaping wounds to pool blood on the floor.
“Thorfinn Rowle wishes me to remove your kneecaps.” The old man’s knees joined his fingers in a pile on the floor. Albus screamed.
And so it went.
“Antonin Dolohov desires me to take out your shins.” A scream and a violent twitch.
“Lucius Malfoy wants to see your feet whole outside your body.” Another scream.
“Severus Snape expresses a burning need to see the wand arm that defeated Gellert Grindlewald all those years ago.” Beyond screaming, Albus could only whimper and twitch. The pile of blood-soaked bones grew.
“My dear mother Bellatrix Lestrange would like the chance to examine your skull and possibly keep it in a curio cabinet. Barty Crouch, wishes to have a chance with your ribcage in its whole form. It is my belief that he harbors some strange desire to use it as a xylophone.” The assembled Death Eaters laughed at the image Hadrian painted in their heads. The Dark Lord’s son was an excellent orator. “As it is my wish to end you, I think I shall indulge them. Just remember, Albus Dumbledore,” his voice dropped dangerously low, “I’m showing mercy by killing you.”
Then he tore the remaining bones free from the old man’s body. Blood sprayed for a moment from the pile of meat that was once Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
On a clear summer day, shortly after Hadrian’s seventeenth birthday, the Bonding Ceremony took place. Hadrian looked into Rabastan’s deep blue eyes and spoke the binding words.
“So I swear, so mote be it.”
Magic glowed, sending off sparks as his dihiryn swept him up and kissed him deeply.
On the dance floor later, Gallus Hadrian Riddle-Black, Lord Black, clung to his new husband, Rabastan William Lestrange-Black, Consort Black. Around them swirled their family and friends. His father and Barty had bonded mere days after the death of Albus Dumbledore in a beautiful ceremony talked about for weeks in the paper. Apparently seeing the Dark Lord as married man and doting husband and father had been the push many needed to change their minds. Resistance movements had been few and far between since.
Blaise and Daphne Zabini (nee Greengrass) were dancing gracefully nearby. They had been married almost as soon as school had ended, just over a month before. Blaise had finally relented and taken the Bone Sign. He had a very promising position waiting for him as Junior Assistant to the Minister. Lucius Malfoy admired his gift with politicians, something that came from his neutral background. Daphne was looking forward to raising lots of little Zabinis.
Draco and Theo were next to Hadrian and Rabastan, holding each other happily. Draco would spend the next year learning his administrative duties under Headmaster Snape before the Potions Master stepped down. He would be supported in the years to come by Minerva McGonagall as Deputy Headmistress, who had taken the changes quite gracefully. Theo was rising quickly in the Department of Secrecy, a new branch of the Ministry dedicated to sealing off the magical world from Muggle knowledge.
Seated at one of the tables, Adrian Pucey was talking quietly to his fiancée, Luna Lovegood. Ad was training as a Healer and apprenticing with Madam Pomfrey. He had high hopes of being Head Healer at St. Mungo’s one day. Luna had the job of Professor of Divination waiting for her to finish her last year of school.
Over by the buffet, probably doing something alarming to the cheese cubes, Fred and George Weasley were huddled together. Voldemort had wisely put them on the Committee for Experimental Magic as liaisons to the Department of Mysteries. If their mother was still speaking to them, she would have been proud of them for getting Ministry jobs, even without NEWTs. As it was, their older brothers were. Percy had reconciled with them. The former Head Boy was Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge having met her end at the hands of the Bone Man for her crimes against Magic, while Bill and Charlie Weasley happily kept their old jobs. Watching the Fire Gemini, Hadrian reminded himself to check over any food before he ate it, lest he turn into a toad or find his hair missing or something similar.
Hadrian found himself pulled from his husband’s arms as the music changed.
“Can you spare a dance for your poor mum?” Bella asked sweetly. Hadrian laughed as he twirled his mother across the floor. Rudo and Rabastan laughed at the surprised look on her face when he dipped her without warning.
Hadrian thoroughly enjoyed being Bonded.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
“How’s Rabastan?” Draco asked as Hadrian joined him for tea in the Headmaster’s sitting room at Hogwarts.
“Busy, as he likes to remind me. Apparently it’s no cakewalk being Head of the DMLE.” Draco snorted.
“So he’s just left you behind to deal with the children like a good little housewife?” Hadrian gave his friend a half-hearted glare over his teacup.
“Yes, Cygnus and Adhara are doing well, thank you for asking,” he replied sarcastically, “though you see more of them than I do, what with them in school and all. Haldus is still trying to convince me to support his idea of covering himself in moving tattoos.” He rolled his eyes.
“Like you can talk, Bone Man!” Draco chuckled.
“Shut up,” Hadrian mumbled into his tea. “How’re Theo and Scorpius?”
“Theo’s probably just as busy as Rabastan. Scorp still wants me to get him into school a year early.” Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Honestly, I’ve never met such an impatient nine-year-old. At least I can always count on Daph to watch him, or Luna in a pinch. Did you hear she’s pregnant?”
“She warned me last year,” Hadrian smirked. Draco muttered something that sounded like “bloody Seers” under his breath and he laughed. “Poor Ad, just making Head Healer and now a baby on the way! A toast to his joy, and a moment of silence for the last of his sanity and sleep!” Hadrian raised his teacup mockingly and Draco joined him.
“Father’s thinking about retiring in the next couple years,” Draco informed him.
“He thinking about Percy Weasley as his replacement?” Hadrian asked, and the blond nodded. Percy was the Minister’s right hand. He would win the election by a landslide.
“Got anything planned for your father’s anniversary? Fifteen years next month.” Hadrian nodded.
“Yeah, the whole Riddle-Black-Lestrange clan’s spending a week at Slytherin’s Keep, off the coast of Wales. My father and Barty can try to christen every surface in the castle, and I’ll pass out blindfolds and tell everyone to knock before they enter any room.” Draco choked on his tea.
“How do they only have one kid? They should have dozens by now!” Hadrian rolled his eyes again.
“Don’t ask me. I love little Miera, but I’m glad I don’t have any more siblings. She more hyper than any fourteen-year-old should ever be. She wears out my kids on the holidays just trying to keep up with her.”
They both laughed and let the conversation fall, enjoying tea and the mutual company of an old friend. Hadrian tossed back the dregs in his cup and stood.
“Sorry I can’t stay longer, Dragon. The Head Unspeakable wants to meet with me about an ancient text he’s found, then I have dinner with Castor Selwyn and the new Director of Gringotts.” He grimaced at the thought of the caves where he met with representatives of the Goblin Nation. Draco chuckled.
“Little Alex Dolohov, huh? I don’t see him nearly enough. My love to Rabastan and Haldus.”
“Same to Thorn and Scorpius,” replied Hadrian as he stepped into the Floo.
Fifteen years since the old regime fell. Fifteen years since the Wizard-Lord rose to power. Fifteen years of peace and all was well.