Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry James Potter... His name was synonymous with miracles, triumphs, and an unwavering will to survive. The one who defied the rise of the Dark Lord, the unexpected champion of the Triwizard Tournament, the hero who finally eliminated that horrifying threat permanently... The heavy burden he carried for years had left early signs of fatigue on his face, and indescribable pain in his eyes. That dark and loveless beginning on Privet Drive, those agonizing days under Dudley's bullying, those seven nightmarish years at Hogwarts where each year was practically a dance with death... All of this had been loaded onto the shoulders of a young man who wasn't even considered an adult yet. His mere survival was a miracle in itself.

However, he had finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel. Voldemort, the source of sixteen years of pain, was finally defeated, and the darkness had ended. Harry could finally start living his own life. He had joined Auror training, quickly rising to stardom thanks to his natural talent and determination, rapidly ascending the ranks to become the head of the Auror Department. The weariness of war had lifted from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of pride and accomplishment.

And love... That girl who had stolen his heart since childhood, Ginny Weasley... He had married her, they had built a home. Their two sons, James Sirius and Albus Severus, had brought joy and excitement into their lives. And now, their little princess, Lily Luna, was the light of their home, the apple of Harry's eye. James Sirius had started at Hogwarts, and Albus Severus had followed in his brother's footsteps. All that remained was tiny Lily Luna, that little miracle laughing in her father's arms, playing games with him.

Make no mistake, Harry loved all his children more than life itself. He harbored infinite love and affection for them, sparing no sacrifice. After Andromeda Tonks's passing, he had also taken in his orphaned godson, Teddy Lupin, showing him the same warmth and care as his own children. Yet, Lily Luna was different. She was Harry's little princess, and the love he felt for her was an indescribable bond. There were times he'd even slept with his little princess more than with Ginny, the love of his life, finding peace holding her tiny hands.

Yes, Harry James Potter truly had a magnificent life. He had left the horrors of war behind, built a loving family, and reached the pinnacle of his career. At least, that's what he thought. There wasn't an ounce of doubt in his heart. Until that cursed moment... Until he overheard that few-word conversation between Ginny and Ron... The whispers from the kitchen cruelly burst Harry's peaceful bubble. Ron's anxious voice, Ginny's flustered reply... The words plunged into Harry's heart like poisoned arrows.
"Ginny, you need to stop using love potions so much. We're both married; we can't be seen buying love potions anywhere. Besides, Hermione is busy with her own work. She doesn't have time to brew one every time you run out." Ron's voice trembled with anxiety.

Ginny's reply was practically a confession, imbued with guilt and desperation: "I know, Ron. But Harry's starting to shake off the effects of these potions faster now. I think he's developing an immunity to them."

Ron's next words shattered Harry's world: "Of course he would. We didn't give him Amortentia so there wouldn't be anything strange with the children. That's why we preferred using shorter-acting, less potent love potions. But now you have three children. You probably won't do it anymore. So why don't you switch to Amortentia?"

Love potion? Amortentia? Harry's mind reeled around these two words. What was Ron talking about? All this time... Throughout their years of marriage... Had they been giving him love potions? From the tone and content of the conversation, it sounded like this had started long before his marriage to Ginny. Damn it! For fifteen years... Perhaps even longer, had he been dosed by his own friends?! His stomach churned, his heart turned to ice. A ringing filled his ears. The world around him seemed to spin. Fifteen years... For fifteen years, had everything been a lie? Ginny's love for him, her affection for their children... Was it all fake? The product of a potion? Before his eyes, all the beautiful memories he had accumulated over the years scattered one by one. Ginny's first smile at him, the exhilarating moment he proposed, the miraculous days their children were born... All of them were now fading into shadows.

Pain, like an octopus, wrapped around Harry's entire being. Trust... That word now dissolved into a meaningless jumble of sounds in Harry's mind. His closest friends, his wife... Were they the ones who had done this evil to him? Were they the ones who had built the most precious moments of his life upon a lie? Harry stood frozen in place. His feet felt nailed to the ground. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. All he could do was feel that unbearable agony deep in his heart. The world had completely changed with those few words. Nothing could ever be the same. That magnificent life had instantly turned to ruin. And Harry was left utterly alone beneath that wreckage.

Ginny's anxious whispers intensified the shockwaves in Harry's mind. "I can't know Harry's every thought, Ron. He always acts contrary to our expectations. Have you forgotten the times he started remembering things we'd erased? Or the times he suddenly turned cold on me and we had to potion him again and again? This man is so hard to understand. Even though his magical core was sealed by Dumbledore, he overcomes potions, compulsions, or memory charms so quickly. I'm on edge, wondering if the seal is breaking, or if he'll break free from the potion again, or remember something."

Ginny's words caused new and terrifying questions to sprout in Harry's mind. Were his memories being erased? Had there been times he acted coldly towards her? And Dumbledore... What did it mean that his magical core was sealed? Had this man somehow had a hand in every stage of his life? All the pain Harry had endured, all his struggles, perhaps they were a result of this interference?

Ron's arrogant and jealous words plunged into Harry's heart like another dagger. "I understand you too. I mean, damn it. This guy must be incredibly lucky. He's powerful enough to overcome even Dumbledore's spells, rich, and immensely famous. I've always hated that. Constantly being in his shadow was disgusting. Hah... well, don't worry. I'll talk to Hermione. She'll work on making this one last longer."

Ron... Despite their years of friendship, did Ron truly think that? Harry knew better than anyone how much Harry never wanted his wealth, how he hated his fame, how he was thrown into the most dangerous missions simply because he was powerful. Despite all this, was he uttering words full of jealousy and hatred? Constantly being in his shadow... The very thought made Harry's stomach churn. All those sacrifices, all those dangers... Were they merely a shadow for Ron?

And Hermione... Clever, loyal Hermione... Was she involved in this too? Ron's words, "I'll talk to Hermione. She'll work on making this one last longer," bitterly showed Harry that even the people he trusted most had turned against him.

Harry was drowning in the shock and betrayal of that moment. His mind was a whirlpool. There were so many questions that needed answers... How long had he been living with these lies? How much of his life was real? What else was being hidden from him?
But right now, he was in no state to seek answers to these questions. First, he had to get away. He needed to go somewhere he could feel safe, collect his thoughts, and reconsider everything with a calm mind. But where could he go? If he wasn't safe even in his own home, where exactly could he hide from them? Where...

Suddenly, an idea came to him. Number 12, Grimmauld Place! That old, gloomy house Sirius had bequeathed to him. He had locked it after Andromeda's passing. Only Kreacher, the old and grumpy house-elf, remained inside. Kreacher was known for his loyalty to his master and had wished to stay in that house until he died. Harry had respected his wish. Yes! He had to go to Grimmauld now. It was quiet there. Far from Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. There, at least physically, he wouldn't be under threat from any traitor. Within those gloomy walls, he could quietly think everything through, untangle the confusion in his mind, and decide what to do.
In that moment, Harry had only one goal: to reach Grimmauld Place. It was perhaps his only safe haven in the world right now. With the pain and sense of betrayal in his heart, he quietly turned and left the house. As he disappeared into the darkness of the night, a single thought echoed in his mind: Nothing would ever be the same again.

Harry quietly left the house, his heart aching with indescribable pain. The cold air outside chilled his body, but it wasn't enough to quench the fire within him. With an automatic motion, he bypassed the complex ward system surrounding the house. As the heir of the Black family and the master of the house, he had the privilege of direct apparition to Grimmauld Place.

A few seconds later, he appeared in the middle of that dark, secret-filled street in the heart of London. Number 12 Grimmauld Place looked different than usual. The gloomy walls, bearing the marks of years and neglect, had been cleaned, the cobwebs in the corridors wiped away, as if life had returned to the house for the first time in a long time. Andromeda Tonks, Sirius's cousin, had put a great deal of effort into this. But almost seven years had passed since her death. And yet, the house was still as clean and tidy as it had been that day. Apparently, Kreacher, the house's sole occupant, was meticulously preserving it in his master's memory.

With a much lighter "pop" sound than usual, the telltale sign of a house-elf apparition was heard. Harry startled and turned around. There stood Kreacher, now noticeably older. His famous pillowcase, which he absolutely refused to take off, was torn and frayed in places, a testament to time and perhaps Kreacher's own disregard for his appearance. Clearly, he wasn't as meticulous about himself as he was about keeping the house clean.

"Hello, Kreacher," Harry said in a weary voice. "Don't worry. I haven't come to ask anything of you. I'll just be staying here for a while—"

Kreacher's old eyes sparkled with excitement. "Master has finally returned home! Master Harry will stay here for a long time, won't he? Kreacher always knew! You have finally awakened from the traitors' magic!"

Harry's mind was in turmoil from these unexpected words. He stared at Kreacher in astonishment. Why was this grumpy, old house-elf calling him "master"? And more importantly, how did he know about these "traitors"? "Kreacher? Why are you calling me that? More importantly, which traitors are you talking about?"

Kreacher looked at Harry with a puzzled expression on his wrinkled face. "Doesn't Master Harry still remember? You are my master. As the last living branch of the Black family, I serve you. But all this time, you couldn't come here because of what those traitors did to you. But Master, you had warned Kreacher about this. You told me that one day you might return remembering nothing. And if you did, you told me to show you the memories you had left here before. Shall I fetch the memories?"

At first, Harry understood nothing. What Kreacher was saying sounded completely alien to him. Until he grasped the painful truth... His memories had been erased. That's why he remembered none of the events Kreacher was talking about. A vague fear blossomed in his heart. "Yes, Kreacher. Please bring me the Pensieve with the memory. I need to remember what happened now."

With his characteristic "pop," Kreacher vanished instantly, and a few seconds later, he returned with an old, silver-inlaid Pensieve and a large, stoppered bottle containing water-like memories.

After both were placed before the Pensieve, Harry hesitantly emptied the water-like memories from the bottle into it. The liquid surface rippled slightly. Taking a deep breath, he plunged his head into the Pensieve.

Stepping into the world of memories, Harry didn't know what to think. One part of him blamed himself for not realizing what had been happening all this time, while another part wished he had never seen these memories. At least then, he wouldn't be suffering the unbearable pain that was scorching his heart right now.

Everything had begun shortly after he started at Hogwarts. Harry had, in a very short time, started acting recklessly and thoughtlessly in ways he normally never would. The boy who would normally consult a professor and explain the danger, no matter what, had run alone to the girls' bathroom where Hermione was crying, without speaking to anyone. He, who would normally never consider wandering around the school at night, had, from the moment he received the Invisibility Cloak, started going to restricted sections, to dangerous places. When he should have thought there was nothing to be done and retreated, he had plunged into the forest full of Death Eaters, chasing Voldemort. When he should have told a teacher about his experiences and tried to provide information about the Basilisk and the petrifications, he had investigated everything on his own and finally entered the Chamber of Secrets without support, confronting both the Basilisk and a Horcrux of Voldemort. He had rushed after Sirius when he shouldn't have, and instead of offering his memories, he had traveled back in time without saying anything. His fourth year was a complete fiasco from start to finish. He couldn't even fully remember how he entered that tournament. Perhaps that year was the first time there were no compulsions or memory charms, only the effect of the love potion. In his fifth year, when he should have defied Umbridge's tyranny, he had kept silent out of shame and endured torture for an entire year. And to top it off, instead of searching for Sirius, he had recklessly rushed to the Ministry, causing his death. In his sixth year, whatever Dumbledore said, he followed him like a headless chicken, without questioning. And in his last year, when he should have asked for help from people, obtaining what he wanted faster with less harm through the strength of the majority, he had remained stuck with Ron and Hermione. As if they were the only people in the world he could trust.

After that, although the compulsions continued, Harry's will and magic had started to break them at certain points. However, this time a more insidious method came into play: the constant erasure of memories where Harry heard and saw that he was being deceived and betrayed, and the continued administration of love potions. He had spent almost every day of twenty years under the control of these traitors! Harry watched those horrifying memories within the Pensieve, an indescribable anger and pain rising in his heart. Had his entire life been a lie? Had all the people he loved and trusted betrayed him?
Anger was like lava boiling in Harry's veins. His whole body trembled, his teeth clenched. He began pacing erratically in the middle of the room. His right hand tightly gripped his neck, as if wanting to strangle the invisible snake in his throat. His nails ruthlessly dug into his skin, causing blood to slowly seep. His left hand desperately pulled at his hair, trying to tear it from its roots. This physical pain was, it seemed, an attempt to suppress that terrible truth sprouting deep within, to wake him from a bad nightmare.

'Nonsense!' a voice inside him cried, desperately clinging to reality. 'We've been together for over ten years! We spent our entire seven years shoulder to shoulder, escaping dangers, facing death! They are my friends, my family...'

But a cold and cruel voice from the depths of his mind instantly shattered this naive defense. 'Don't be ridiculous, Harry. You saw, you heard, and you understood. Those conversations, those memories... These people have been deceiving you for all these years. They used you for their own purposes. Your life, your feelings never mattered to them.'

'You're the one being ridiculous!' Harry's heart retorted, clinging tightly to the memories of years of friendship and love. 'We were friends, lovers, who walked to death together! Why would they throw themselves into death struggles with someone they're trying to deceive?! That's illogical!'

The cold voice gave a mocking laugh. 'When were they ever truly in a life-threatening situation? The first two years were completely useless anyway. It wouldn't have taken that long to remove Riddle's magic from Ginevra, and Dumbledore could have easily saved him since Fawkes knew the way. In the third year, even if Hermione tried to drag you along for a while, if you hadn't cast that cursed Patronus, she would have abandoned you among those Dementors without hesitation. In the fourth year, they weren't genuinely in any real danger. In the fifth year, you suffered the most pain, and when you went to the Ministry, Dumbledore had already arranged for the Order to save you beforehand. What did they experience besides a minor shock? The sixth year? They only went Horcrux hunting with you. Not because they wanted to, but because they had to. Either they would stay with you and hunt Horcruxes to kill Voldemort, or they would eventually die themselves. So, tell me, Harry, when did they truly risk their lives for you?'

'You make it sound like they did nothing, but they did!' Harry's desperate last shreds of hope whispered. 'Hermione attacked a professor for me! Ron came with a flying car to rescue me from my horrible Muggle relatives! They came to the Ministry with me even though they didn't have to! What do you think that means?'

The cold voice replied with a bitter smile. 'Oh, poor child... You are so blind, so alone, and so pathetic... you still struggle not to understand. No one could truly let you die until the very end, Harry. You were their pawn. And all those moments were merely actions taken not to prevent your death, but to keep you alive. Because you were the 'Boy Who Lived,' who would defeat the Dark Lord. Your death would mean the end of their plans.'

An unrelenting battle raged in Harry's mind. On one side, there was a Harry who didn't want to believe that his years of friendship and love were a lie, clinging to the love deep in his heart. On the other side was his logic, which had never left him since that first moment of shock, constantly silenced during his Hogwarts years but now returning in all its starkness. No matter how convincing Harry tried to make his arguments, his logic cruelly rejected him with immediate, harsh reality. It was impossible for him to win this internal battle. Especially with so much painful evidence before him.

Finally, exhausted, he removed his hands from his neck and hair. He stumbled and collapsed onto the nearest dusty, old armchair. He buried his face in his hands, trying to hide it behind his messy fringe. In this huge, silent house, with no one but an old, grumpy house-elf, he tried not to show anyone this moment where he had fallen into the deepest depths of despair.

Harry James Potter, for the first time in many years, cried with quiet sobs like a small child. He wept for the empty years he had lived, filled with deception and lies, for his lost trust, for his stolen memories, and most of all, for the unbearable pain of betrayal. His tears streamed down his cheeks, dripping onto his hands, and his silent sobs echoed in that large, dark house. He was no longer "The Boy Who Lived," but a broken man, crushed under the wreckage of a life woven with lies.

The next day was no different for Harry. The deep shock and pain enveloping his soul still weighed heavily on him. He constantly tried to pull himself together, to believe that everything would eventually be alright, that this nightmare would end, but his mind inevitably drifted to the dark corridors of his last thirty years of life, and when confronted with what he had learned in the past two days, even the smallest crumbs of hope scattered and dispersed. He was thirty-two years old, and ten of those long years he had spent in a hell without magic, steeped in daily physical and emotional pain, abused, imprisoned, starved, and enslaved. His Hogwarts years, with their bittersweet memories, he still remembered as a relatively beautiful and exciting period of his life. But now he understood that even those years had been shaped by someone's insidious control and compulsions. The last fifteen years had been utterly nothing. Every day, by Ginny's side, had passed in a daze, openly poisoned with love potions, far from reality.

As all these painful truths paraded one after another in his mind, a whispered sentence escaped his lips: "To stand... How hard it is."

Yes. Indeed, to stand was almost impossible for a soul crushed under such a heavy burden. For twenty years, he had believed his life was filled with various joys. Yet, in reality, he had constantly been forced to do things he didn't want to do, painful memories had been erased, and his own life had been lived as someone else's puppet.

He repeatedly faced those horrific memories through Kreacher's Pensieve. He had seen with dread how many times the woman he called his wife had deceived and betrayed him. He had understood how many times the traitor he called his friend had stolen from him, stabbed him in the back. He had watched in horror as the woman he called his sister smiled while giving him potions and weaving compulsion webs around him. And the woman he called his mother... She had stood behind all of this, watching his downfall with pleasure, as if observing a play. Molly Weasley, meanwhile, supposedly mourning her lost son, had estranged herself from her entire family, taking galleons from Harry's blood-earned vaults and leaving for distant lands to begin a solitary life.

Considering all these betrayals, lies, and pains, Harry truly couldn't find the strength to get out of bed.
He didn't even want to get up from the comfortable bed Kreacher had brought him when he fell asleep, exhausted from crying. He just tossed and turned, staring blankly into space, burying himself deeper into the covers, reliving the horror he had experienced, and then bursting into tears. For days, he hadn't eaten a single bite, drunk a sip of water, or rested properly.

It took him two more days to mentally and physically recover. Finally, three days after that cursed event, he found the strength to call Kreacher with a hoarse, raspy voice. He asked the old house-elf for a small English breakfast and a glass of water. After eating the simple food and drinking the water Kreacher brought, he finally felt a little energy in his body. He had reviewed everything he had experienced in his mind, managed to rein in his emotions somewhat, and begun to roughly plan what to do.

One thing was certain: he would take revenge for the past twenty years. He would demand accountability for this betrayal, these lies, this manipulation. And to do that, he needed a good, flawless plan. These thoughts were swirling in his mind as he finally got out of bed and slowly made his way towards a comfortable-looking sofa in the room. At least, until the door was forced open with a loud bang, and about fifteen Aurors burst in, wands pointed at him...

"Crouch? What do you think you're doing? Who gave you the right to enter my home like this without permission?" Harry's voice was a sharp mix of anger and astonishment. His eyes blazed as they fell upon the young woman leading the Aurors.

Valera Crouch. She came from a distant branch of the Crouch family and had constantly faced criticism due to her family's past dark actions. Interestingly, the target of these criticisms was Harry Potter, who had exposed those dark secrets. This ambitious twenty-eight-year-old Auror was the leader of one of the new groups Harry had established after becoming head of the Auror Department. Although Harry knew Valera personally disliked him, he had appointed her to this position because she was a talented Auror who did her job extremely well. However, this promotion had apparently fueled the woman's animosity towards Harry even further.

Valera spoke with a cold and official expression. "Harry James Potter! In the name of the Ministry of Magic of Magical Britain, I am arresting you on charges of domestic violence, illegal use of love potions and compulsion charms, child abuse, illegal possession of artifacts, and performing dark rituals. You have the right to remain silent and to call a lawyer. If you do not have one, the Ministry will appoint one on your behalf. I now request that you come with us without resistance. Otherwise, the charge of assaulting an Auror will be added to your file."

Despite the anger bubbling within him, Harry knew that physical resistance would be completely futile now. He was helpless against the fifteen armed Aurors surrounding him. Therefore, he took a deep breath and surrendered. But he was crushed under the weight of the accusations. Child abuse? Domestic violence? Love potions and compulsion charms? Charges of possessing illegal items and performing dark rituals? All of these were definitely absurdities that someone who had lost their sanity could invent. He had never laid a hand on his family in his life; on the contrary, he himself had been trapped by potions and compulsion charms! He had no idea about the source of the last two accusations. But no matter what, he would easily get out of these absurd charges! When the truth came out, he would take those three traitors to court and get his revenge! Or at least, that's what he thought until he was brought before the Wizengamot.

The sight he saw when he was brought into the courtroom shattered Harry's last shred of hope. In the front rows, his children, bruised and scared, looking at him... Next to them, Ginevra, clearly caught in the middle of a play, but clutching her children tightly with trembling hands... Hermione, head bowed as if about to cry... And right beside her, Ron, appearing to be comforting her... Harry understood everything at that moment. This trial, these accusations, were completely a cruel trap set by them! They had planned everything to cover up their own betrayal and make Harry seem guilty. The knife of betrayal, plunged into Harry's heart, twisted even deeper in the face of this cruel spectacle.

The Wizengamot chamber echoed with its cold stone walls. In the center, Harry sat, bound in chains. His eyes searched for the familiar faces accusing him. The first witness, Ginny Weasley, was called. She walked with shaky steps to the witness stand.
"Yes," Ginny began, her voice filled with a feigned tremor. "Harry... Harry had become very unstable lately. He would behave angrily towards our children. Once, he accidentally dropped Lily. He was constantly yelling and breaking things at home. Sometimes I saw him preparing strange potions at night, and he never told me what they were."

When it was the children's turn, Harry's heart broke. Little James, Albus, and Lily held their mother's hands, looking at their father with fearful eyes. When James said, with a forced expression, "Dad... sometimes he would yell at us," Harry's world shattered once more. Albus was silently crying, and Lily clung tightly to her mother's skirt.

Next, Ron Weasley testified. "Harry's recent behavior was truly alarming. He was constantly doing things in secret. I caught him reading books about dark rituals several times. I also found strange, dark enchanted artifacts on him. Ginny and the children were very scared for their safety."

Finally, Hermione Granger took the stand. Her voice was as confident as ever, but Harry could detect that tiny flicker, that falseness in her eyes. "Members of the Wizengamot and esteemed judge," Hermione said, "this sudden change in Harry's behavior worried me greatly as well. However, my research led me to a much more terrifying truth. As you know, the Dark Lord Voldemort was not entirely destroyed. Fragments of his soul, Horcruxes, might still exist. I fear that Harry may have a connection to these dark remnants and is therefore exhibiting these dangerous behaviors."

Harry wanted to stand to defend himself, but the magical chains held him tightly. "These are all lies! I—" he tried to shout, but his voice was lost in the clamor of the Wizengamot.

The Chief Warlock roared angrily. "Harry James Potter! In light of the evidence presented and witness testimonies, it is clear that you pose a clear danger to Magical British society. This court has decided that you are to be punished by being passed through the Veil of Death!"

Harry was in shock. He hadn't been given a single chance to speak. His eyes desperately scanned his surroundings, but he couldn't see a single face that believed him. The Aurors forcibly pulled him to his feet and began dragging him towards the Death Chamber. A bitter whisper escaped Harry's lips: "Betrayal..."

Within the cold stone walls, he stood before that mysterious veil. All the pain, betrayals, and lies of his past flashed before his eyes like a film reel. One last time, he imagined the faces of his children and the woman he once loved. Then, pushed by the Aurors, he was thrown towards the unknown beyond the Veil of Death. In the Wizengamot chamber, false tears and sinister smiles hung in the air.

Chapter Text

Passing through that mysterious veil of Death was an unexpected experience. At first, he felt as if he was drifting through a very fine, ice-woven gauze. That cold, crystalline structure enveloped his entire body for a moment, then rapidly pulled back.

Immediately afterward, a warm wave spread through his body, and for a moment, absolute darkness enveloped him. It was as if he was falling through an endless void and finally landing on unseen, soft clouds. Had Sirius felt this way too? Though initially terrifying, it wasn't actually that bad an experience. All the unbearable pain he had suffered for years due to Sirius's guilt and the thought of his death now seemed to have lessened somewhat.

He carefully sat up. He actually had no idea what he was supposed to do next. Should he walk? Should he stay where he was? He truly knew nothing. It was pitch black all around him, and he couldn't feel anything. No warmth, no cold... No ray of light, no distinct shape. Just a bottomless black void that seemed to stretch on forever.

Suddenly, he was violently shaken and began to fall downwards once more. This time, however, as he descended, his surroundings slowly began to brighten. Finally, he was met with a light so bright it forced him to close his eyes, and he fell once again onto a cloud-like, soft surface. When he opened his eyes this time, he wasn't in that dark and sensationless place. Instead, he was in an elegant and tidy room, decorated with soft, peaceful colors. There was no visible window, lamp, or door. Instead, in the middle of the room was a large desk, several undoubtedly comfortable-looking chairs, a rug whose softness was evident even from its appearance beneath his feet, and a wide double armchair where Harry lay, dominated by shades of light brown and yellow. Behind the desk sat a figure Harry found hard to believe he was seeing.

Messy, jet-black hair reminiscent of profound darkness, skin whiter and paler than even the thinnest paper, and Avada Kedavra green eyes more vibrant than the brightest jewels... If Harry hadn't known anything about his father, he could easily have mistaken this man for him. Because, apart from the shape of his hair and Harry's slightly darker skin tone, they looked almost exactly like identical twins. But there was no such man in his family. He was absolutely sure of that. He had never had a relative who resembled him so closely on either his mother's or father's side. Yet, there seemed to be an obvious blood connection between them. This shouldn't be.
The man, as if reading Harry's thoughts while he was lost in these complex musings, smirked with a pleasant, mocking smile. "Why so deep in thought, my dear? Perhaps that thought of kinship isn't as mistaken as you think, what do you say?"

Harry felt his astonishment grow even more at the man's relaxed and confident demeanor. This man truly couldn't be part of his family. Perhaps he was an ordinary relative who had lived centuries ago, without any remarkable achievements. But a voice inside him whispered that this wasn't true.

Who was he kidding? Harry was literally dead. That veil was called the Veil of Death. It was a mysterious and frightening anomaly that instantly killed anyone who passed through it, used for executions in its time. And Harry had fallen through that veil, bidding farewell to that painful world. Now, before him was a man he had never seen before but who felt strangely familiar. His parents weren't there, only this man. Someone who erased his unease and evoked a baseless sense of security. This man couldn't be normal!

The man, as if sensing Harry's confusion, decided to speak again. "Stop tormenting yourself like this, my dear. Your mortal brain can't take any more. Just ask the questions you truly need to. Or don't. If you wish, I can explain. You're wondering who I am, aren't you? Why do I feel so familiar to you? Why do you feel strangely safe when you're with me? Why do I resemble you? Actually, the answer to all these questions is remarkably simple. Because you come from my blood and my magic."

Harry frowned. This simple answer didn't explain the complex questions in his mind. "Just being from my family doesn't fully explain these strange feelings I have towards you. Sharing the same blood doesn't make you real family."

The man chuckled with delight at Harry's unexpected reply. He was clearly amused by Harry's sharp wit and unpredictable reactions. "How pleasant to see you've grown so much. I always imagined you as reckless, annoying, and childish. But I suppose these last few days have matured you more than ever. Well... that's better. Although a lively child would amuse me, my master needs to be level-headed, calm when necessary, and know how to act maturely. Otherwise, I couldn't tolerate you for long."

Harry's already strained nerves frayed further, and he quickly rose from his seat. The man was clearly creating more question marks deliberately to irritate him. "Are you going to give me a proper explanation? Okay, let's say you know what I've been through because you're a spirit watching the world after death. But 'master'? What kind of term is that? I'm no one's master! Besides, why am I here? Am I not supposed to go to heaven or hell after death? Or is this a strange effect of the Veil of Death? Has my soul somehow become lost, or ceased to exist? What's going on!?"

As the man listened to Harry's angry barrage of questions, the amused smirk on his face slowly began to fade. It was replaced by a gentle, understanding small smile. He stood up, approached Harry, and gently took him by the shoulders, guiding him back into the armchair he had just risen from. Then, he sat on the edge of the table directly in front of him and, while watching Harry carefully, began to stroke his head gently, as if caressing a cute puppy.

"The Veil has no such effect, my dear. It is literally a tool to kill mortals who pass through it and to give those who approach it a brief chance to communicate with their loved ones – or rather, a thin rift connecting the mortal world with the world of the dead. That Veil, that rift, was created by one of your distant ancestors, one of my beloved children. Its original purpose was to establish an interaction between the living and the dead, showing that death is not always a terrible end, but rather the doorway to a new beginning, and to comfort mortals. However, the child who opened that rift, after some painful events in their life, changed the nature of the rift to take revenge and turned it into a deadly trap. That trap is now used only for executions or to charm desperate people who have lost loved ones, forcing them to approach it and ultimately die. And mortals, most often, gladly throw themselves into death's cold embrace."

Harry asked in astonishment, "So that veil only kills... But what about my other questions? The word 'master'? Why am I here?"

The man took a deep breath and replied, "The explanation for everything is actually simpler than you've ever imagined. But first, I will properly introduce myself to you. I'm not saying this metaphorically, rhetorically, poetically, theoretically, or in any other flowery way. I am Death. I am the embodied, materialized version of that abstract concept. I am the one who will bring an end to everything that is born and exists with Life. I am the one who will continue to exist even when everything is gone, even when the last Primal Entity dies, and who will silently watch everything come into being and cease to exist again in this endless cycle. You are my ancestor, my grandchild, in a sense, my father. You are a record of my painful struggle, proof of my resistance, a reward you earned in exchange for the indescribable suffering you endured."

Harry continued to stare at Death in astonishment after these unexpected revelations. Why was he meeting Death? Why was Death telling him he was family, a reward for his suffering? He didn't think he had done anything to deserve this. So why was all this happening?

Death gently removed his hand from Harry's chin and drew him closer. "Several thousand years ago, I met three magnificent children," Death began, his voice like velvet. "They were intelligent. They were children who escaped traps that outwitted everyone and impressed me with their sharp minds and captivating powers. One day, I decided to appear to them in concrete form. In exchange for the unique entertainment they offered me, I gave them a reward. The eldest, Antioch, was an arrogant wizard thirsty for power. So, I gave him a unique wand that would make it easier for him to dominate others and further empower his own magic. The second, Cadmus, was a poor lover who wept after the woman he had lost. I gave him a resurrection stone that would allow him to communicate with the dead. The youngest, Ignotus, was a fun-loving but also mature and intelligent child. He merely asked me for a simple cloak that would allow no one to follow or see him. So, I offered him a piece of my own endless cloak. At the same time, along with these modest rewards, I gave them one more true reward. A reward that would bind them to these Hallows I gave them, and ultimately to me, allowing them to spread my magic into the mortal world. Exactly three drops of my own blood. Less or more could unbalance them, even kill them. So, I gave them precisely three drops of my blood, and with my blood, my unique magic. In this way, they could wander the mortal world and show people my existence, that death is not actually a frightening end, but rather the door to a new beginning. And the children of their blood could carry the same unique gift, spreading across the world as new necromancers and uniting my magic with this mortal realm. However, unfortunately, things did not go as I had planned. Antioch turned into an arrogant and conceited man, seeing no one worthy of him, living a solitary life, and eventually returned to me alone due to his arrogance. The second, Cadmus, was an obsessive lover. He couldn't have children with a dead person. He lost his mind within a short time and took his own life. The third, Ignotus, lived a calm and normal life. He achieved great successes and established his own family filled with necromancers. He did good work for years, and when he grew old, he naturally came to me and allowed me to peacefully take his life. From my three children, only the descendants of Ignotus inherited my blood and magic, starting the line of necromancers. Until you came along. You became the last of my children from this long lineage. As my last child, you are the only one who can fully use my Hallows and the only being who can meet the conditions for becoming my master, as determined before the universe even existed."

Harry bravely decided to interrupt Death's unexpected and strange explanations. "Wait a minute. I somewhat understand the lineage part, but why does Death have a master? That's complete nonsense. I mean, look at yourself. If you're an absolute being, superior to all existence, why would you need a master?"

Death slightly frowned at Harry's defiant question. He removed his hand from Harry's chin, placed it on his head once more, and continued to stroke gently. "I don't need a master, my dear," Death corrected, his voice softened. "I need a companion. I need someone to stay with me for the rest of eternity and share this endless solitude. Unfortunately, even the other Primals, eventually die and will be erased from existence until everything starts anew as part of that endless cycle. This process sometimes takes thousands, even millions of years, and I even get bored while watching other universes. That's why I decided to choose a partner, a friend for myself. But the concept of 'Master of Death' arose when the other Primals mocked me, saying that if I chose such a friend for myself, I would be someone who heeds their words and listens to what they say. Fate must have found this amusing, for as she wove her own tapestry using the thread of life, she incorporated the concept of me having a 'master' into that complex weave. Anyway. We set a few special conditions for this situation. First and foremost, my partner could not be incompatible with me. To make them eternal like myself, they had to possess my powers. That's why we limited it to my descendants. But this was still a very broad possibility. So we placed stricter conditions such as possessing all three of my Hallows, seeing death at least three times, avoiding death at least three times, and killing at least three times. And now, among billions of beings, only you have been able to meet these complex conditions. You have possessed all three of my Hallows and mastered them. Your disposal of them does not change this fact. More importantly, you avoided me at ages 1, 12, and 16, you saw me many more times throughout your life, and again at those ages, 11, 12, and 16, you took three different lives. Even if it was the same soul, you performed the act of killing three times. As a result, you inevitably became my master."

Harry sat in silence for a long time after Death's astonishing words. He understood what Death meant, that profound loneliness he felt. The search for a companion for a being crushed under the weight of eternity... This feeling was not unfamiliar to Harry at all. He too had feared being alone his entire life, which was why he had sometimes treated his friends in the kindest way possible, even when he didn't want to. He hadn't wanted to lose them, to fall into that terrible solitude once more.

He now logically grasped why he had been chosen. He was the only remaining descendant of the Peverell line, and he literally carried the unique power of that ancient blood, that ancient magic, in his veins. He was the last person to possess all three of Death's Hallows. He had planned to pass his Cloak down to one of his sons, just as it had been inherited by his family, but he hadn't done so yet. He thought of waiting until James was in his second or third year, as he didn't want his children to be as mischievous as he was from their first year. The wand and stone had already been with him for a very long time.

Anyway... In conclusion, he understood all of Death's reasons, why he was here. He understood, but he still couldn't accept this reality with his entire being. Now, as Death's partner, his companion, he would lead the same eternal life, separated from humanity. Most likely, with time, he would even lose his humanity, leaving all those mortal emotions behind. It would naturally take time for him to digest all of this. Therefore, with a deep sigh, he asked Death for some time. He truly needed it.

Death instantly accepted Harry's request. It was as if he could read every emotion, every hesitation within him. He told Harry that he had as much time as he wanted, so he should take his time, and when he had gathered his thoughts, he should call him. He would return immediately. The room fell silent again, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Harry closed his eyes and began to weigh his new and inconceivable destiny in his mind. Eternity... and Solitude... These two concepts would now be his new reality.

***
Harry didn't know how much time had passed inside. He had spent a long time lost in thought, sleeping to shake off his exhaustion, trying to gather himself by walking and moving around the room. Finally, when he managed to emerge from the intense confusion within him, he called Death. Death appeared instantly. The two began discussing what would happen. During this time, Death was drinking his strangely beloved (he apparently brewed it himself, a mixture made from the water of a river in his realm that erased the memories of anyone who entered it, the pitch-black magical core essences left behind by magical souls before they left this world to be reborn, and the leaves of a deadly plant that grew in his realm. Of course, he hadn't mentioned this to Harry.

He didn't want his adorable master to remember the day they met with nausea or vomiting) strange-looking (it was a jet-black liquid with green smoke rising from it) but definitely delicious coffee, when the conversation turned to the other Primal Entities. Harry couldn't resist asking if Lady Fate hated him. Because he believed that the only reason his life had taken such a terrible turn was due to Fate's deep hatred for him. However, according to Death's explanation, the situation was not as Harry thought. Apparently, the culprit for everything was Lord Chaos himself.

"You see, Harry," Death said, continuing to gently stroke his head. "Lady Fate has always loved you. Her having to write a sad backstory for you was a necessity. Because there were very few souls who could remain steadfast in those arduous struggles between the Light and Dark sides. And you were the strongest soul among them. That's why you could endure all that pain and survive. That's why she chose you."

Harry asked in astonishment: "No, I don't understand. She's Lady Fate. The one who writes or weaves everything. She determines the future. So why did everything have to be this way? Wasn't she the one who wanted all these events to unfold this way?"

Death placed his coffee cup on the table and adopted a more serious expression. "I suppose I should tell you everything from the beginning so you can fully understand. Among us, the first to be born was Life. I was born at precisely the same moment as her. Life is a benevolent, good-natured, and extremely gentle lady who loves existence. Perhaps that's why she was drawn to creation and bestowed upon every soul she created the freedom to pursue their own desires. Of course, during this process, Fate, Magic, Chaos, and Time also came into being. Under Life's leadership, infinite dimensions and countless worlds were created, and she sent the souls she created to these worlds. There, the souls would live in peace. Lady Magic gifted some of them with magic, giving them the power to change the world, Time controlled everything, giving meaning to their lives, Fate wove their futures and pasts into her tapestry according to their personalities and what suited them best. And I, when the time came, gave meaning to their lives by taking their souls. In my realm, their souls rested, and with Life's help, they forgot the lives they had lived and were reborn. In this way, we established the eternal cycle."

Death's voice suddenly grew heavy. "However, Lord Chaos was an entity completely contrary to our harmonious cycle. We tolerated his antics to a certain extent due to the entertainment he brought to our lives. But after a while, he made a truly grave mistake and recklessly ruined Fate's unique tapestry that depicted your life. In this way, the future you were supposed to live was completely corrupted, ruined, and ended up like this."

Harry's voice trembled: "The life I was supposed to live? So, I wasn't actually supposed to experience any of this?"

Death sighed and continued: "As I said, Fate truly loved you. She deeply regretted causing you that painful life, so she wanted you to spend your adult years in joy and peace. Don't misunderstand, Albus Dumbledore or the course of that great war didn't change; however, you would have truly fallen in love with Ginevra Weasley. Just as she would have with you. There would have been no traitorous friends. You would have lived a long, beautiful, loving life with your children and wife. But when Lord Chaos, during his buffoonery, fell onto the unfinished tapestry, his already uncontrollable power affected all four tapestries connected to yours, irreversibly corrupting them. We were very angry with him; Fate even did everything she could to fix things. However, a life touched and tainted by Chaos is almost impossible to mend. That's why you lived this life and died this way. It's something each of us deeply regrets. That's precisely why we decided to give you an offer. You already have this right as my master, but as an extra boon from us, we will allow you to be reborn and live in a world entirely shaped by your desires, where three of your wishes will come true. Or rather, the tapestry of the old world will be re-woven according to these three desires of yours. You can wish for anything. And you will be able to be reborn into your old world seamlessly with these three wishes."

To be reborn... Harry had never considered this possibility before. From the moment he decided to seek revenge, this thought had lingered in his mind, but it had always remained a "what if." What if I could go back in time, what if I had never spoken to them, what if I had never grown close to them, what if I could make them pay for everything they did to me... What if, what if, what if...

However, Harry, knowing that "what ifs" were useless, had tried to overcome these thoughts as quickly as possible and focus on future plans. But now, he had the opportunity to turn these "what ifs" into reality. He could be reborn and spend time with his family as he had always wanted. He could reunite with them, finally feeling that indescribable joy of a true family. There was no need for fear or anxiety anymore. Thanks to his wishes, he would ensure his family's survival and live a long, happy life with them.
"Alright. Okay. Then I will be reborn," Harry said, his voice filled with determination. "I've decided on my three wishes, by the way. I'll tell them now. First of all, I want my family to survive that day, the day Lord Voldemort comes. As for my second wish, I want to be born about three years earlier than normal. So, I want to be born in 1977, not 1980. And, can I keep my power and memories?"

Death smiled with satisfaction. "Of course. Once you become my partner, your mind will be much stronger than before. It will be almost impossible for you to forget anything; you will remember everything. Naturally, your magical power will also increase incredibly. Furthermore, since you will no longer have compulsions binding your magic or a fatigued body constantly forced to heal itself by using your magic, you will be dozens of times more powerful than before."

A slight smile appeared on Harry's face. "Alright then. My last wish is a little sister. Since I will be born as a brand new soul in the past, my old self must continue to exist. So, I'll already have a brother. But I also want a sister. As far as I know, my mother was pregnant with a child when she died. I wish for this pregnancy to continue and for my mother to give birth to a girl."

Death's smirk widened. "Strange, but not unmanageable. It will be as you wish, Harry. In fact, I'm sending you to your new world right now. Hold on tight, my dear little one." After Death spoke these words, the surroundings began to shake violently. Cracks appeared in the walls of the room, and an endless darkness rose from behind these cracks. With time, everything vanished, as if all existence was fragmenting. Then the familiar sensation of falling returned, and increasingly loud, sharp screams began to fill the surroundings.

As the sounds grew louder, Harry did his best to cover his ears. It was as if this terrifying noise was echoing more and more powerfully inside his head. As the sound intensified, his throat also began to ache. This unbearable pain continued until something soft was forcibly placed in his mouth, and his mouth involuntarily moved, beginning to suckle on this soft thing.

Disliking this strange, yet instinctive sensation, he forced his eyes open. As he tried to clear his blurred vision and looked around, he saw the most beautiful angel to ever grace the earth.

Only then did he realize. The source of the pain-filled screaming that had been grating on his ears until now was none other than himself. The angel before him had fiery red, silky straight hair, skin as bright and smooth as porcelain, and deep, beautiful green eyes reminiscent of a forest. Without a doubt, this was his mother, Lily Potter. Harry had been reborn as a baby and had started crying because he was hungry, thus calling his mother and beginning to drink the milk she tenderly offered.

***
Living again as a baby was an extremely strange and definitely very annoying process for Harry. He would suddenly fall asleep without even realizing it, then wake up with incredible hunger, screaming his throat raw, feeling odd after drinking his mother's milk and being forced to pass gas, which was especially embarrassing. Then he would fall asleep again. The only entertainment in his life came from the funny gestures and facial expressions his father or Sirius, who visited frequently, made to amuse him.

He saw Sirius around every time he woke up. Each time, Sirius wanted to take him from his mother and burp him himself, and when he couldn't, as soon as Harry passed gas, he would pick him up, lie down on an armchair, and place Harry on top of himself, trying to ensure he spent even his sleeping time with him. In fact, Harry had, at a certain point, become almost certain that Sirius was also staying in their house. It was definitely not natural to see him so often.

Although life as a baby was very boring and monotonous, everything changed the moment Harry realized he could access his magic. He had realized this even before he started crawling, while still lying in his crib. And it definitely had nothing to do with a miniature broomstick.

Actually, Sirius, as usual, had overdone it and bought Harry a broomstick so small that Harry couldn't use it for several years without growing, and would even have difficulty holding it. For the first time in a long time, Harry was so excited that he tried to grasp the broomstick with his tiny hands and take flight. After that, he often started riding this broomstick, trying to hide it from his family. He would lift his tiny body onto the broom and gently raise the broom, flying about half a meter off the ground and traveling around the house. Unfortunately, this secret amusement was quickly discovered around the time Harry started crawling.

When he suddenly rushed out of the open door, sped down the stairs, and burst into the living room, with Sirius trying to catch him, it became impossible to keep this secret. Remus, who was preparing his camera to take their candid pictures, undoubtedly pressed the shutter button as soon as he saw Harry in the air, and had a great time capturing the comical moments of his chasing parents.

This fun was truly enjoyable as long as it lasted, but afterwards, when his mother's scolding hour came and he learned that his only amusement was forbidden, he was truly very upset. His mini broomstick was completely taken away, and Harry was placed under close watch. This was his first major disappointment in his new life.

***
After getting used to crawling, Hadrian's baby life became a little more bearable. Of course, for his parents, things became even harder. Hadrian was now climbing everywhere in the house, constantly crawling and almost disappearing with his tiny body in this large house. His family had to search for him every time, finding him with great difficulty under tables, inside cabinets, under beds, and in many stranger places. However, this new situation was a brand new excitement for the Potter family and a fun period for the small family to enjoy together.

Especially when Hadrian grew a little older and started walking, the fun, excitement, and anxiety in their lives increased even further. Hadrian was an extremely active child and very often disappeared, falling just as frequently. Moreover, since he had a special fondness for climbing high places, the thought that he might fall and seriously injure himself was the family's greatest concern.

Another important turning point in Hadrian's life was finally meeting his grandparents. Both were incredibly sweet and pleasant people, with completely white hair, nearing a hundred years old. As far as Hadrian knew, his grandmother and grandfather had tried to have children for many years but hadn't succeeded until their seventies. That's why they had gone to many healers, tried countless treatment methods, and performed rituals from many countries to try and have a child, and finally, in their seventies, they had James. Already quite advanced in age, the excitement of seeing a grandchild led them to spend almost all their days at their children's house.

This elderly couple, who spent all their days looking after Hadrian and spoiling him, also allowed Hadrian's parents to have time for their own work and private lives. Yes, his name was Hadrian. He had heard it for the first time from his grandmother, Euphemia. Apparently, his family and uncles constantly called him by his nickname, and that's why he had thought his name was still Harry. But it was Hadrian. The name of an ancient emperor. His name came from "Adria," which also gave its name to the Adriatic Sea; "Hadrianus" also meant "from Adria." However, he had liked the emperor particularly associated with this name.

Publius Aelius Hadrianus. An ancient Roman Emperor. He had gone down in history as one of the "Five Good Emperors." He was an emperor who protected his own borders rather than gaining territory, strengthening existing lands. He was a ruler who governed with stability and peace, but even though he was a lover of peace, he was a man who knew where to exert pressure and did not hesitate to kill ruthlessly when necessary, never to be underestimated. He was even honored by being deified after his death. Hadrian was very happy to bear the name of such an admirable man. This name provided him with a solid foundation for the identity he would gain in his new life.

***
No matter how boring the days were, they passed quickly. And finally, Hadrian's first birthday arrived. A pure white, fruit-flavored cake with a golden snitch figure on it had been bought. Most likely, his family was mindful of his tiny taste buds and took care not to feed him overly sugary things. Perhaps fruit purees, in tiny drops, seemed safer to them than chocolate. Hadrian was a baby who developed very quickly for his age. Of course, magical children generally grew faster than Muggles, but Hadrian was special even among his own kind. He had started speaking his first words at six and a half months, and swimming at seven months. He had even started using his magic at just five months old. He was a baby who learned everything very quickly, overly eager to dive into life. However, his family still treated him like a normal child his age, rather than an early developer. Still, he was happy with this situation.

Hadrian was fourteen months old when he first went outside. They had gone shopping for Christmas, and the restless Hadrian had finally convinced his mother to go out. He had run around frantically, chosen decorations he wanted for the house, dived into a chocolate shop and gathered everything that caught his eye, picked out a few toys, and secretly hidden the gifts he chose for them among the huge pile of shopping. That evening, he forced himself to sleep early to be awake at exactly midnight, and he succeeded. This way, while his family exchanged their gifts, they also found his tiny presents. After Hadrian stammered, albeit understandably, "my gift," they had burst into laughter and Hadrian shyly opened the packages they had given him.

For his mother, he had bought a few rose-shaped chocolates; for his father, a snitch-shaped chocolate; for his grandmother, a glass orb-shaped chocolate with powdered sugar falling inside; for his grandfather, a chocolate resembling an hourglass but filled with colorful, spherical candies used in cake decorations instead of sand; and for Sirius, a broom-like chocolate that constantly flew away from its owner. For now, these were the best gifts he could get. He had only been able to buy these without his mother noticing. But at least his family was happy and praised and kissed him profusely, saying he was already thinking of them. It was truly a wonderful Christmas.

***
The next exciting event for Hadrian happened on his second birthday. His entire family had dressed up in cute animal costumes and entertained him by playing games. The only sad part of this joyful day was his grandparents' increasingly deteriorating health. Unfortunately, both of them passed away that year before Christmas.

That year, Hadrian didn't want to celebrate Christmas and retreated to his room, spending Christmas in mourning. His family most likely assumed the reason for his sadness was that he hadn't seen them for a long time.

As Hadrian turned two, the time his parents spent with him began to decrease. Instead, he was constantly looked after by Remus, who clearly struggled with self-confidence but seemed happy to care for him. However, this situation was short-lived. Towards the end of 1979, his mother was revealed to be pregnant once again, and because of this, his mother began to reduce the time she spent at work. During this process, she was taking more care of the house and Hadrian. This might seem strange for a baby of only two months, but magical children were a great risk. One had to be very careful during pregnancy, otherwise, they could easily be lost.

That's why in most pureblood families, women were worked as little as possible, usually left to rest for the child that might be born. And still, they often had difficulty having a child. Who knows, maybe this was a side effect of inbreeding. Nevertheless, his mother's second pregnancy made a stir, and every convenience was provided for her rest.

***
His little brother Charlus was a very noisy baby. Hadrian tried to escape his screams every day, but whenever he quieted down, he would appear by his side, loving his little brother in every way. Tiny Charlus was a very sweet and chubby baby. Hadrian wanted to laugh thinking that he himself was once like that. He had grown up beautifully. He would be three very soon and was already turning into a beautiful child that every adult would want to love at first sight. They would hold his completely baby-fat body and squeeze and rock him, not letting go for a long time; just as Hadrian wanted to hold onto Charlus's tiny body and not let go.

***
The next year, a month after Charlus's birthday, his mother was found to be pregnant once again. At that point, Hadrian had started to be sure that his parents were either mating like rabbits or were blessed with many children like the Weasleys. Not one, not two, but three children were coming from a pureblood line. Hadrian thought this might possibly be an effect of his own wish, but only his own existence was normally excessive, and his parents were people who normally had two children in three years. He thought that if he let them be, another Weasley clan could be established.

But unfortunately, the happiness of his little sister was quickly extinguished. It was September, and next month Voldemort would come to this house to kill him or Charlus. When Dumbledore appeared and secretly told his family about the prophecy, it was clear to him that the slightly altered prophecy was once again pointing to him. But for others, it would be either Charlus or himself. Since the prophecy was just made, it would most likely be assumed that the person mentioned was Charlus.

"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the 7th month dies, and returns as the 10th month dies.'" The person mentioned was definitely him.

After this horrifying prophecy, his family left the manor and took refuge in a house in Godric's Hollow, living under the Fidelius Charm. However, this was no obstacle for Lord Voldemort to find them; especially when they chose Peter Pettigrew as their Secret-Keeper once again...

On that ominous October night, the small house in Godric's Hollow was bathed in its usual peaceful silence. Hadrian, sound asleep in his bed, awoke to whispers and faint rustles from inside. When he opened his eyes, he noticed that his bedroom door was slightly ajar, and the faint sounds drifting from outside belonged to his parents' conversation. Normally, they would have been asleep by this hour. He stirred slightly in bed, curiosity outweighing everything else.

James and Lily were in the living room, speaking in hushed tones. The atmosphere was tense, their voices anxious. Although Hadrian hadn't yet turned three, his keen perception, which came with his magical power, allowed him to sense the tension in the air. Something was wrong.

"The meeting is very important, Lily," James's muffled voice said. "Dumbledore said it's urgent. We can't miss it."

"I know, James," Lily whispered, a clear note of distress in her voice. "But who will we leave the children with? Sirius and Remus are out. Peter... Can we trust Peter?"

Hearing that name sent a jolt through Hadrian, completely banishing his sleep. Peter. Traitor. The name echoed in his mind, feeling like a punch to his stomach. That Peter, the Peter who would betray him and his family in the future. And now, his mother was talking about leaving him in charge of their children. He wanted to scream, to warn them, but how could he, in his tiny body?

James's voice sounded indecisive: "Peter is our Secret-Keeper, Lily. He wouldn't betray us. Besides, he's not that bad a wizard. He can watch the children."

"But why so sudden?" Lily asked, her voice anxious. "Why tonight? And why with Peter?"

"It must be about the Dark Lord's increasing activity," James replied. "Dumbledore didn't give details, but we know the danger is growing. It will take Peter a while to get here, so we need to hurry."

A short while later, a faint click from the front door signaled James and Lily's steps moving towards it. The whispers ceased, and then the door creaked open and shut. Hadrian waited silently in his bed, sensing a shift in the atmosphere indoors. The air grew heavier, but this time it was filled not so much with anxiety as with a sinister tension.

A few minutes later, footsteps were heard from the corridor, and his bedroom door slightly creaked open again. The plump silhouette of Peter Pettigrew entered. A strange, nervous smile was on his face. His eyes lingered in the room, on Hadrian's bed, then shifted to little Charlus's crib. Peter approached the crib, his steps almost inaudible, and leaned over his tiny brother's sleeping face. For a moment, that mask of fake innocence cracked, and a brief, dark glint appeared in his eyes.

Hadrian felt his heart pounding wildly as he feigned sleep. The deep fear and anger that enveloped his body were intense, far beyond his young age. This was the man who would throw his own family into the fire. And now, he stood over his helpless, innocent brother. Hadrian lay motionless in bed, trying to control every breath. His eyes were slightly ajar, watching Peter's every move.

Peter took a quick tour of the room, as if wanting to ensure everything was in place. That nervous smile on his face never faded. Then, he quietly left the room, gently closing the door behind him. Hadrian exhaled deeply. Though his heart still pounded, the danger had passed for now. But that terrible moment was etched into his mind. This night was the night everything would change. And he had witnessed the traitor infiltrate his family's lives once more. Behind the doors, the lines of fate, once drawn by those he loved, were now about to be redrawn by Peter Pettigrew's sinister steps. The night was full of dark secrets and approaching disaster.

After Peter Pettigrew left the room, Hadrian's heart was still pounding with fear. Peter's sinister presence seemed to have even changed the air in the room. When he realized that silence had taken over after a while, he quietly got out of bed. With small, trembling steps, he approached Charlus's crib. He looked at his sleeping brother's innocent face. He would never let anything happen to him. He slowly reached out and embraced tiny Charlus. Even with his tiny body, he managed to carry his brother to his own bed. Now both of them were in the same bed, huddled together, waiting for the impending disaster. Hadrian was on alert, his eyes fixed on the door.

After what seemed like a long time, the entire house shook with a loud crash from the ground floor. Then a low, ominous chuckle was heard. Hadrian's hair stood on end. He had arrived. Lord Voldemort.
Footsteps began climbing the stairs. Each step was like a blow to their hearts. Hadrian hugged Charlus tighter, his tiny fingers entwined in his brother's feathery hair. The door creaked open, and the terrifying figure, whose silhouette alone filled the room, entered.

Voldemort glided in, maintaining his usual snake-like coldness. However, when his gaze fell upon the two babies lying huddled in the bed, a fleeting spark of surprise and even a hint of appreciation flickered in his dead eyes. In that dark soul, which still retained a modicum of sanity, the sense of aesthetics and power had not completely vanished. A fleeting thought crossed his mind: What a beautiful child... His eyes, his smooth skin... This thought also caused Voldemort's pure magic to react; the air around him subtly trembled.

But this momentary enchantment quickly dissipated. Voldemort swiftly remembered who he was and why he had come. His eyes narrowed mercilessly. He raised his wand to kill both brothers. "Avada Kedavra!" he hissed, his voice a deadly whisper.
The green beam of light moved directly towards the bed, towards the two brothers. However, just as the curse was about to strike Hadrian, an ancient power intervened. Death's own touch, the power of soulmate magic, the Primal blood flowing through Hadrian's veins... The moment the curse hit Hadrian's chest, it rebounded with unbelievable energy. The green light returned with horrifying speed to where it came from, towards Voldemort, who had raised his wand.

Voldemort, without understanding what was happening, saw his own curse coming towards him with wide, terrified eyes. Before he could even scream, the curse hit him. His massive body was thrown backward, the expression on his face replaced by pure terror, and Lord Voldemort, once again, met death by his own magic.

***
The violent sparks and energy wave that resulted from the curse rebounding struck Charlus's forehead, where he lay in bed. His tiny body trembled slightly, and a lightning-shaped scar, which the entire world would eventually recognize, formed on his forehead.
Voldemort's soul, this time unbroken, in one piece, screamed and fled the house. The room was filled with an eerie coldness and a sense of depleted energy. Hadrian lost consciousness due to the intense magical energy enveloping his body. His eyes closed, and his tired body collapsed onto Charlus.
When Hadrian regained consciousness, he found himself surrounded by adults once again. The room, unlike his painful memories, seemed brighter this time. However, there was a shadow underlying this brightness: Albus Dumbledore. The old man held tiny Charlus in his arms, a thoughtful expression on his face, but his voice filled with excitement as he spoke of the prophecy's "Child."

"Incredible!" Dumbledore murmured, his eyes shining. "Truly incredible. Little Charlus protected both of them. He defeated Voldemort! That mark on his forehead is proof of it. Just as the prophecy foretold..."

James, holding Lily's hand tightly, said proudly, "Our Charlie is a hero, Lily! He saved us!" Lily's eyes were filled with tears, her full attention on tiny Charlus.

In the depths of Dumbledore's mind, he was making complex plans on how to place these two children, especially Charlus, now declared "the hero," and Hadrian, who was clearly powerful, onto his chessboard. Dumbledore, who had definite information about Tom Riddle using Horcruxes, knew he would return one day, and in the meantime, he thought he needed to make new, complex plans to use these two children.

"As for Hadrian..." Dumbledore's gaze shifted to Hadrian, his voice suddenly becoming more cautious. "It might not be entirely right for Hadrian to stay here. Staying in little Charlus's shadow would be difficult for his psyche. Moreover, he would be safer growing up in the Muggle world."

The joyful expression on Lily's face instantly vanished. "What nonsense! You're separating Hadrian from us? Never! Have you forgotten, Albus? Petunia tried to throw him out a window when he was just a baby! Even if it's my own family, I will never hand Hadrian over to them again!"

James agreed with his wife. "Lily's right, Dumbledore. Hadrian is our son. Why would you separate him from us? He will stay in this house too. We will protect him just as we protect Charlie."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "I understand your concerns. But Charlus's destiny is very important. We must train him well; we must prepare him for his future task. This is vital for the future of the entire wizarding world. Especially considering the fact that the Dark Lord will return..."

James nodded. "You're right, Albus. Charlie's training will be a priority for us. We will provide him with all the support."

Lily, looking lovingly at Charlus in Dumbledore's arms, added, "Yes, our Charlie is a very special child. We will raise him in the best possible way."

Although the old man insisted for a while longer, he eventually had to give up in the face of Lily and James's determination. Nevertheless, he continued to talk at length about the need to train Charlus well and give him special attention. After James and Lily eagerly accepted these suggestions, the other adults slowly left the house. Hadrian's parents, meanwhile, showered little Charlus with praise, completely forgetting Hadrian, who had just defeated a Dark Lord and experienced all that horror. Their eyes saw only tiny Charlus; Hadrian remained in a corner of the room, a silent, invisible witness to his own fate and the changing dynamics of his family.

***

Time at Hogwarts had passed much faster than that first Christmas, and as the seasons changed, Christmas was upon them once again. This special day reminded Hadrian's slowly forgetting family of him once more. While Lily cared for little Charlus at home, Hadrian went Christmas shopping with his father, James. Although this situation saddened him a little, he was still determined to do his best.

For his mother, Lily, he chose an emerald necklace that matched her eyes; for his father, he bought an elegant watch. For tiny Charlus, he found a shiny, moving snitch toy that would help him develop his reflexes. And most importantly, for his unborn little sister, he bought a simple silver locket with a delicate hyacinth engraving. This locket was a silent symbol of his endless love and devotion to his little angel.

When they returned home, they had a pleasant Christmas evening. Hadrian tried to convince himself that his family hadn't completely forgotten him. Although his mother Lily had forgotten to buy him a special gift, when she realized it, she offered comforting words and promised to buy a new gift as soon as possible. However, that gift, unfortunately, never came. Even though Hadrian smiled that evening, deep down he was slowly accepting this new reality with profound pain: he was now the "second child" in his family's eyes. Charlus's bright light was slowly overshadowing him.

***
Months passed with Charlus's joyful laughter and Hadrian's quiet observations. And finally, the awaited day arrived. There was a sweet commotion in the house; James and Lily were busy with the birth of their third child. Their little sister, with pink cheeks and bright, bead-like eyes, was truly like an angel. They named her Asteria. When Hadrian held his little sister in his arms, an indescribable love and protective instinct blossomed within him. This tiny being was a new source of joy for him.

However, with Asteria's birth, the atmosphere of the house began to change. Lily, frequently waking up at night to feed her daughter, became increasingly irritable due to her disrupted sleep. What initially was just fatigue gradually turned into fits of anger.

One night, when Asteria's high-pitched crying woke up the entire house, Lily's patience snapped. She jumped out of bed and screamed, "Enough! Enough! I can't sleep for a minute because of this little brat!" Her voice echoed through the house, causing little Asteria to cry even more intensely. James, with sleepy eyes, sat up in bed, looking at his wife in astonishment.

"Lily, calm down. She's just a baby..." James murmured.

"Calm down? How can I calm down, James? Every night! Every damn night I wake up because of this sound! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of this constant sleeplessness!" Lily shrieked, her eyes welling up. Her anger, combined with her exhaustion, had become uncontrollable.

Their arguments, combined with Asteria's crying, tore through the silence of the night. Four-year-old Hadrian was horrified by what he heard from his bed. The cruelty in his mother's voice had caused his little sister to cry. This was unacceptable.

From that day on, Hadrian secretly took on a mission. Every night, as soon as he heard Asteria's first whimpers or soft murmurs, he would stay awake before his parents. He would quietly slip out of his bed and go to his little sister's crib. He would pick Asteria up, gently feed her (sometimes with a bottle his mother had prepared beforehand, sometimes magically summoning milk when he was sure his mother was asleep), burp her, and gently rock her back to sleep. Each time she fell asleep, he would feel a strange pang in his heart as he watched his little sister's peaceful breathing. The happiness of this little angel was now his responsibility. Hadrian, with a sacrifice unknown to his family, stayed awake every night, trying to maintain peace in the house, protecting his little sister from his mother's anger and his father's indifference. In the darkness of the night, with his tiny hands, he became the silent hero of a family.

***
Hadrian's sixth birthday had once again passed quietly. No cake, no gift, no "Happy Birthday!" voice... Neither James, nor Lily, nor Charlus had remembered this special day. When Hadrian noticed this, he felt a pang of sorrow inside, but he tried not to care, to get used to it. It was just like always, wasn't it? He whispered to himself that it didn't really matter.

However, the real blow came at Christmas. It was the most sparkling, most magical time of the year, and Hadrian had hoped that maybe this time, everything would be different. But he was wrong. On Christmas morning, as James and Lily enthusiastically had Charlus open the gifts they had bought for him, Hadrian and Asteria were completely ignored. The bright packages, joyful laughter, and "Oh, Charlie, look what we got you!" sounds created a deep void in Hadrian's heart. The murmurs from Asteria's crib seemed to whisper that she too felt this situation.
Hadrian quietly got up from where he was sitting. Charlus's room was now the warmest and brightest place in the house. He headed towards his own room, the neglected room where Asteria lay. When he entered, he saw his little sister lying silently in her crib. His eyes filled with tears; he couldn't bear the thought that this tiny angel had also been forgotten, just like him.

He slowly approached the crib, gently picked Asteria up. His little sister's soft skin melted the ice in Hadrian's heart. He carried her to his bed, lay down beside her, and hugged her tightly. Tiny Asteria snuggled into her brother's warmth.

"Don't be sad, my Asteria," Hadrian whispered, his voice surprisingly mature. "Don't ever be sad. They might have forgotten, but I will never forget. You're my little angel, do you understand? I will love you more than anyone. You will never be unhappy or unloved. I will do everything in my power for that."

In the darkness of the night, a new resolve became clear in Hadrian's mind. Even if his own family ignored him and Asteria, he would not turn his back on his little sister. From that moment on, Hadrian decided not only to be Asteria's brother but also to be both her mother and father. He would protect her, show her love and affection, and shield her from all evil in the world. This new mission was a new fire burning in Hadrian's heart. He was no longer alone; with his tiny sister, they would build their own world.

***
When Hadrian was seven and Asteria was three, James and Lily decided that Charlus needed a larger, more impressive room befitting his "hero child" status. For this, they decided to move Hadrian and Asteria's rooms to the attic. Asteria was sad about losing her room, and Hadrian felt the neglect to his bones. But he had to be strong for his little sister.

Before his eyes, the dusty and gloomy attic, which had previously only stored old items, appeared. He had to transform this "junk-filled" place into a livable home for his tiny sister.

Hadrian, putting aside his family's indifference, immediately got to work. He tirelessly worked with the house-elves. They cleaned the dust that had accumulated over the years, sorted out old, unusable items, and made plans to completely renovate the room. Hadrian especially wanted to create a paradise-like corner for Asteria. He created a warm, inviting atmosphere with walls full of vibrant, bright colors, a soft, fluffy carpet, cheerful decorations, and ample lighting. He designed Asteria's room to fill her little heart with joy, as if it had jumped straight out of a fairy tale.

His own room was directly connected to Asteria's. He transformed it into a calm resting area where he could delve into the depths of his soul. He filled the walls from floor to ceiling with all kinds of books; he was eager to acquire knowledge from ancient magical tomes to Muggle philosophy, from history to mythology. This room, furnished only with a comfortable reading chair and a small desk, would be his sanctuary behind the doors he closed to the outside world.

Little Asteria often appeared by Hadrian's side at night, afraid of being alone. Hadrian always understood her need, took her in his arms, and gently stroked her head until she fell asleep. In this way, Hadrian tried to live a normal life, if not for himself, then for his little sister, providing her with a loving and safe environment. While their family revolved around Charlus, Hadrian and Asteria built their own small family in their new world in the attic, clinging tightly to each other.

***
Hadrian was now nine, and his little sister Asteria was five. The attic, where they had lived since he was seven, had become a refuge, a laboratory, and a library for Hadrian. He had completely immersed himself in his studies. His room in the attic had become his sanctuary. He read all kinds of books, deepening his knowledge in every field. From music to mathematics, painting to literature, sports to history, runes to rituals, ancient traditions to law, he researched and learned whatever he could find. His mind absorbed every piece of information like a sponge, and when combined with his magical power, the learning process reached an incredible speed. While he was buried in books during the day, at night he shared his bed with Asteria, taking on all the responsibilities of being both a brother and a parent to her. Little Asteria was his only refuge against their indifferent family.

However, one night, a great disaster occurred in this quiet order. The weather was quite cold, and Hadrian had lit a small magical candle to give Asteria's room some warmth. In the middle of the night, Asteria woke up crying as if she had a bad dream. She was thirsty and crawled towards her brother's room to drink water. While trying to find her way in the dark, she unfortunately knocked over the candle on Hadrian's desk. The candle's flame jumped onto the dry, discarded old parchments and immediately burst into flames.

Waking up to the crackling of the fire, Hadrian froze at the sight. His five-year-old sister's eyes wide with astonishment and terror, and the rapidly spreading flames... The flames touching the tips of his sister's hair, the sharp smell of smoke spreading, felt like a dagger piercing his heart. He quickly jumped to his feet. Instinctively, he tried both to protect Asteria and to put out the fire. He picked up tiny Asteria, moved her away from the flames, placed her in a safe corner, and then tried to smother the fire with his bare hands. His magical power gushed out, and he fought with all his might to control the fire. While trying to suppress the flames with his magical energy, he also summoned water from the room and sprayed it on the fire. With every breath, his lungs filled with smoke, and his eyes burned. His little sister's brush with death caused Hadrian unbearable trauma. His body trembled, his little heart pounded in his chest. When the fire finally began to die down, the room was filled with thick smoke. Hadrian, coughing and trembling, hugged Asteria tightly, his heart aching.

Devastated, with his lungs filled with smoke, a single thought pierced Hadrian's mind: his family. Downstairs, they were in a deep and comfortable sleep. While all this chaos was happening, they were lying in their rooms, safe and unaware. They hadn't smelled the fire, nor had they heard little Asteria's screams. At that moment, something broke in Hadrian's heart. He began to feel a deep resentment towards the family he had once loved so much, the family for whom he would have risked everything. That night, his love for them died completely, down to its last shred. It was replaced by cold anger and exhausted disappointment.

After calming Asteria and putting her to sleep, Hadrian, tired and sad, found a piece of iron in his room. His eyes were unfocused, and his mind had come to a terrible but determined idea. He placed the iron on the burning fireball he had created in his palms, wandlessly and wordlessly, and waited until it was completely red hot. When he took the hot iron in his hand, with unwavering resolve, he pulled up his shirt and pressed it directly over his heart. A burn mark in the shape of the letter P formed. The pain enveloped his entire body, but Hadrian did not utter a single sound. The silent tears streaming down his cheeks were for the family ties he once believed existed, but now understood were completely lost and could never be rebuilt. This burn would be proof that there was no turning back, that he would never again be bound to his family, that he would never forget their indifference and his own losses. This symbol carved into his body was a bitter mark of his new beginning, his farewell to his old life.

***
The next morning, the attic room was slightly stifled with the smell of smoke. Hadrian had not been able to shake off the shock of the night's events and had not slept a wink. When Asteria woke up, Hadrian watched her silently. When he saw his little sister open her sleepy eyes, an indescribable pain filled him. Asteria rubbed her eyes and sat up, and a few seconds later, she started crying, "I want my mommy!" Her voice echoed in the room after the silence created by last night's fire.

Hadrian initially tried to soothe her gently. "Asteria, calm down. I'm here... your brother will always be with you..." he whispered, reaching out to hug his little sister. But Asteria's crying intensified, and she kept repeating, "Mommy, mommy!" The anger, frustration, and neglect that had accumulated in Hadrian for five years suddenly surfaced. He lost control.

"Mommy?!" he roared, his voice trembling. "Which mommy?! That woman you call mommy never cared about you! She didn't care about us! Wasn't it me who fed you at night, burped you, and put you to sleep? Wasn't it me who taught you to walk, to talk, and fed you all this time?!" His words filled that small room, and Asteria froze in surprise. Hadrian continued, his voice rising even higher: "Don't you see that your mommy threw us into this junk-filled attic because she couldn't stand either of us?! Where were they last night? Wasn't I there to save you?! If I hadn't come, you would have died, and I'm sure your mommy wouldn't even have cared!"

Hadrian was aware of how his words affected his little sister. He knew that Asteria had not felt much pain thanks to him so far, that she did not know many things. But she needed to understand some truths. That's why, after shouting at her like that, he left his shocked, crying sister in her room. He slammed the door, went into his own room, and locked himself in. Then, he leaned against the wall and slowly sank to the floor. The physical pain the hot iron had left on his heart was nothing compared to the indescribable emptiness in his soul. He began to cry silently, sobbing. As tears streamed down his cheeks, he once again felt the pain of a shattered family dream and of condemning himself to loneliness. Now, his and Asteria's only security was each other. But Asteria was not even fully aware of their abandonment. At least, not until just now. That's why Hadrian's burden felt heavier than ever.

***
Hadrian didn't leave his room for two full days after that terrible outburst. He tried his best to ignore Asteria's insistent, tearful calls from behind her door: "Brother? Brother, please open the door!" A storm raged inside him; he oscillated between anger, regret, and deep sorrow. He felt remorse for shouting at his little sister, but at the same time, the pain he felt towards his family's indifference did not subside.
On the morning of the third day, Hadrian finally opened his door. Asteria stood before him, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Her face showed deep sadness and confusion. When Hadrian saw his sister in this state, his heart ached once more. He slowly knelt, reached out to Asteria, and took her into his arms.

"My Asteria," he whispered, his voice still a little hoarse. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted at you earlier."

Asteria's small hand reached for Hadrian's face. "But... were the things you said true, brother? Mommy... Does Mommy really not love us?" Her voice trembled.

Hadrian took a deep breath. His eyes filled with tears, but this time he held them back. "Right now... right now, she doesn't love us like she used to, yes. They don't really care about us, Asteria. All their attention is on Charlus. Because he's the 'Boy Who Lived'..."
Asteria hadn't even heard that word before, so she immediately asked him what it meant, and Hadrian told her what had happened that Samhain night. At least, the version others knew.

"What about us?" Asteria asked, her eyes wide. "What are we?"

Hadrian hugged his sister tighter. "We... we have each other. I'm your brother, but I'll also be your mother and father. You are everything to me, Asteria. We will never leave each other. No matter what."

A few tears streamed from Asteria's eyes, but this time with a sorrowful acceptance. "Then... then we're a family, just the two of us, right, brother?"

A bitter smile appeared on Hadrian's lips. "Yes, my little Asteria. We are our own family." At that moment, they both accepted each other as their only beings in this world. They would heal each other's wounds, support each other. This was their new, secret, and strong bond.

Hadrian suddenly smiled, an idea coming to mind. "Well... How about we go outside? After all these years, I've realized I've never taken you out. We've always been cooped up in this attic."

Asteria's face instantly lit up. Her eyes sparkled; she had never been outside before. "Outside?! Really?! Can we go, brother? Where will we go?" Her voice was filled with excitement and curiosity.

Hadrian felt a real warmth in his heart for the first time in a long while. His little sister's pure joy was the most precious thing to him. "Yes, we can go. Anywhere you want... First, we'll get some fresh air, and then... maybe we'll find the best sweet shop."

Asteria's joyful shriek dispelled the gloomy atmosphere of the attic. Hadrian knew that day he had made the most important decision of his life. From now on, only Asteria mattered, and her happiness would be Hadrian's sole purpose.

***
The heritage test at Gringotts added a new dimension to Hadrian's life. To prove his own identity and avoid touching his family's vaults, he planned to access a vault of another family from whom he was descended. However, when he did his own test, he was very surprised by the results. The families whose lord he would be in the future were not one, not two, but exactly six: Potter, Black, Gryffindor, Peverell, Emrys, Le Fay. He wasn't entirely sure about the Gryffindor part, but as a true Gryffindor, he had been able to pull the sword from the hat and use it, and his family had gone to Gryffindor for generations. So, he wasn't too surprised. What surprised him was that he would also be the future lord of the Emrys and Le Fay houses. At first, he couldn't understand the reason, but then he remembered his conversation with Death and a gift that was meant to be given to him. This must have been Lady Magic's gift. The lordships of two powerful wixen houses. According to the books he read, this would give him access to many opportunities. For now, the most important were the Wizengamot seats. The Potter house had two seats, the Black house three, the Gryffindor and Peverell houses four each, and finally, the Emrys and Le Fay houses had five each. So Hadrian actually had twenty-three seats, but he had to definitely give up five of them. As soon as he gained his freedom, he would definitely leave the Potter and Black houses. In his previous life, he had started to think that his family, who wanted to fight and hide instead of fleeing, had not escaped abroad because they did not consider him more important than the war. Also, his godfather, who had abandoned him in his previous life just as he was doing now for his little brother, was tied to the Black family. He had abandoned him even as a one-year-old child whose parents had died and who had returned from death injured, all for the sake of revenge. Now he was doing the same for his little brother. Hadrian did not want to have any connection with people who were so eager to abandon him, who had even completely forgotten him. Therefore, when the time came for him to completely sever his ties with them, he would completely remove himself from the Potter family and break his bond with his godfather. This would cost him five seats, but it was a small price considering he would be completely separated from them.

The two siblings experienced their next surprise when they saw Asteria's inheritance test. Apparently, Asteria was the future lady of a house. They did not expect this, as family lines were generally patriarchal. However, it seemed that their grandmother's mother, Cedrella Fleamont, had become the lady of the family as the last remaining person from the Fleamont family and had given her son this name to keep the surname alive when he took the Potter name. Since Fleamont had only one son, the Fleamont house had not had a head for a long time. At least, not until Asteria was born. As the only female child carrying Fleamont blood in her veins, she was the heiress to this house.

After Hadrian and Asteria received their heir rings—Hadrian had not taken the Potter and Black rings as he wanted no connection—a few more conversations and tests were conducted. Finally, they had their health and magic checked, and after the results were quite good, he received the keys to all the heir vaults except the Potter and Black vaults—because he didn't want to do anything with them for now. Fleamont, Gryffindor, Peverell, Emrys, and Le Fay... Each was like a gigantic door containing centuries of accumulation.

Hadrian tightly held Asteria's hand and headed towards the first vault. His little sister's eyes widened in astonishment. "Where is this place, what are these, brother? They're so big!" she whispered.

Hadrian smiled. "These are our vaults, Asteria. They belong to our old families. They contain very valuable things."

As they explored the vaults, Hadrian and Asteria were like treasure hunters. Each vault opened a door to a different world. Piles of shining gold, antique jewels, countless artifacts, and of course, stacks of books... Hadrian focused particularly on the books. He filled a magical pouch with books containing forgotten spells, ancient rituals, and historical events, preserved for thousands of years. Asteria, meanwhile, gazed admiringly at the shimmering jewels and colorful objects. Taking plenty of money as well, they placed all of it into their expandable magical pouches.

After leaving Gringotts, Hadrian converted his remaining money into Muggle currency. Holding Asteria's hand, they walked from the bustling Diagon Alley to the crowded streets of Muggle London. Asteria's eyes darted around with curiosity and wonder. The Muggle world her brother had told her about and sometimes shown her with illusion spells had now become real.

"Brother, what's that?" Asteria asked, pointing to a shop window with colorful clothes hanging in it.

"A dress, Asteria," Hadrian replied patiently. "Muggles wear things like that."

His little sister had always worn Hadrian's shrunken, transfigured clothes. So she had never had the chance to wear a dress before. Hadrian had first seen a dress when he used picture books only for herbology.

Hadrian first took Asteria to a park. Asteria ran around on the lush green grass, laughing as she enjoyed the ice cream her brother bought her.

Hadrian, acting like an adult, bought his little sister everything she wanted. They spent hours at a toy store, then chose the cutest cookies at a bakery. Asteria reacted to everything Hadrian showed her with an excitement as if she was seeing it for the first time in her life. This was a dream come true for her, and Hadrian felt a warmth inside as he saw the pure happiness on his sister's face. This first "outing" they shared together was full of fun and joy.

As evening fell, they returned to their home in Godric's Hollow, tired but happy. Hadrian carried little Asteria up to their room in the attic. They both got into Asteria's fluffy bed. As Hadrian prepared to read a story to Asteria, his little sister's voice was heard.
"Brother?" Asteria murmured, with sleepy eyes. "Can we... can we repeat today often? It was so much fun."
Hadrian's heart was filled with this request. He smiled at Asteria. "Of course, my little Asteria. From now on, we'll go out and have fun at least twice a week. I promise." Asteria snuggled into her brother, murmuring, and immediately fell asleep. Hadrian, stroking his little sister's hair, carved this promise into his heart. That night was not just the end of a day; it was the beginning of a new era.

And in this way, three more years passed. While Hadrian immersed himself in his studies and newly acquired knowledge during the day, twice a week he would take Asteria and embark on adventures in the Muggle world. These two children, growing up in the shadow of their family within the walls of Potter Manor, had quietly built a world between themselves, becoming each other's sole support. These years allowed Hadrian to mature, grow stronger, and Asteria to further solidify her curiosity about the outside world.

***
Towards the end of that summer, the inevitable day arrived. Hadrian, his heart heavy, took his little sister to a charming but quite distant boarding school for girls in the English countryside. Asteria's tiny hand gripped her brother's tightly; her face showed a mix of anxiety mingled with the thought of separation.

Hadrian in no way wanted his sister to go to this institution, but leaving her alone within the frigid walls of Potter Manor was even more impossible.
The school's headmistress, Ms. Agatha Smith, greeted them with a warm smile. Hadrian had packed everything Asteria might need—new clothes, her favorite toys, colorful pencil sets—and even converted a small amount of Galleons into Muggle money and put it in his pocket. Until the last moment, he had thought of every detail to ensure his sister's comfort.

"Look, my Asteria," Hadrian said, showing her two small mirrors he had painstakingly enchanted for her over many nights, holding them in his arms. "These are our special mirrors. When you miss me, or want to tell me something, look into this mirror and call me. I'll hear and see you through the other mirror. Just like our conversations now."

Asteria's eyes filled with tears. "But... what will you do without me, brother? I... I'll miss you so much. Will you miss me too?" Her voice trembled.

Hadrian's heart broke. "Of course I'll miss you, my little angel. You're everything to me. But this is what's best for you. Here, you'll make new friends, maybe learn new things. Remember, I'm always by your side, just a few steps away. You promised you'd never leave me."

Asteria sobbed and hugged her brother's neck. "Promise! I'll never, ever leave you, brother! Don't you leave me either!"

Hadrian was somewhat relieved by his sister's words. He kissed her tightly one last time, then handed her over to the headmistress. As he walked out the door, he looked back one last time; Asteria was waving at him from the window, her small face wet with tears, but in her eyes was the trust she felt for her brother. Hadrian, despite the storm inside him, turned and returned to Potter Manor.

Upon returning to the Manor, the silence in the house grated on his ears. He spent his last days talking to Asteria through the mirror and reviewing his Hogwarts materials. Each night, when they spoke to Asteria, listening to how his little sister was adjusting to boarding school and making new friends, filled a small part of the emptiness in Hadrian's heart. During the day, he locked himself in his library and memorized his textbooks and newly acquired magic books from cover to cover. He imprinted every spell, every theory into his mind. He wanted to be completely ready for Hogwarts.

On the morning of September 1st, the sun was rising towards King's Cross Station. Hadrian arrived at the station with the help of the house-elf Dobby, knowing that his family had forgotten him, and were not even aware he was going to Hogwarts. As he walked towards Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he watched the families around him saying goodbye to their children, the cheerful crowd. He felt that familiar bittersweet ache inside. They were a family, and he... he was alone.

When he found Platform 9 ¾ amidst the train's steam, the Hogwarts Express stood before him in all its glory. As he stepped through the red, steam-covered train doors, he knew he was on the threshold of a new life. Even without Asteria by his side, their bond, like the letter "P" on his chest, would always follow him.

***
Hadrian, pushing through the crowd at King's Cross Station and boarding the Hogwarts Express, found a quiet compartment suitable for his purpose. He placed his trunk on the overhead rack and sat by the window. He took out his newly acquired necromancy book from his bag, its leather worn, its cover smelling of ancient magic. He delved into the complex symbols and magical formulas, momentarily forgetting the train's bumpy movements and the noise outside.

After about half an hour, the compartment door creaked open. Hadrian looked up from his book to see five young figures enter, their steps and posture clearly indicating they were purebloods. The girl at the front, with bright platinum blonde hair and sharp grey eyes, was clearly a Malfoy. She was as beautiful as a porcelain doll; Hadrian couldn't help but suspect she might grow to be as alluring as a Veela. The dark-haired girl immediately behind her resembled Zabini, an old Slytherin acquaintance. The other three boys looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place their lineage; after all, all purebloods looked somewhat alike.

The five gave Hadrian a slight nod. Cassiopea Malfoy, standing in the middle of the group, took Alexander Parkinson and Andreina Zabini by her side. The three sat opposite Hadrian, while Damian Greengrass and Izar Nott sat next to them. Cassiopea was the first to break the tense silence in the compartment.

"Hello," she said, her voice slightly proud. "I'm Cassiopea Narcissa Malfoy, from the Malfoy House" Her gaze was sharp, her expression confident.

The dark-haired girl next to her, with neatly styled curly hair and yellow-brown eyes, smiled gently. "I'm Andreina Zabini. Heiress of the Zabini Family." She possessed a natural beauty, with a sincere expression on her face.

The sandy-haired boy who sat on her other side had wavy hair and hazel eyes. He would clearly be handsome when he grew up. "I'm Alexander Parkinson. Heir of the Parkinson Family."

The golden-blonde haired boy with forest-green eyes, sitting in the opposite seat, spoke with a sweet smile. "I'm Damian Greengrass. Heir of the Greengrass Family."

Finally, the handsome boy with black-brown, wavy hair and sky-blue eyes, who looked older than his age, spoke. "I'm Izar Nott. Heir of the Nott Family."

After they all finished their introductions, they turned their eyes to Hadrian, waiting for him to introduce himself. The atmosphere in the compartment was filled with curiosity and a slight tension.

Hadrian slowly closed the necromancy book in his hand, meeting the curious gazes of the five pureblood students. A cold glint appeared in his eyes. "My name is Hadrian. Hadrian James Potter. But don't associate me with the filth who are supposed to be my family, and call me by my given name if you're going to call me anything. I already feel enough shame carrying the same surname as those blood traitors." His voice was sharp and clear, every word echoing in the room.

The five clearly hadn't expected such an introduction. Though their surprise was short-lived, they remained silent, respecting Hadrian's words. Cassiopea Malfoy cleared her throat slightly. "Alright, Hadrian. How do you expect your life at Hogwarts to be? Which house do you think you'll be sorted into?"

Hadrian shrugged, his gaze drifting to the window. "Slytherin or Ravenclaw. I'm hungry for knowledge, but I want it for my ambitions. So, I don't have an exact idea."

Izar Nott raised his eyebrows. "If you're sorted into Slytherin, that would be a first. Potters always go to Gryffindor."

A mocking smile appeared on Hadrian's lips. "I'd go to Azkaban to avoid being associated with the Potters," he said, his voice icy. After that, he didn't utter another word. He opened his necromancy book again and focused on the pages. For the remainder of the journey, he maintained his silence in the compartment, far from the magical world, alone with his dark thoughts. The five tried to get used to his mysterious and stern demeanor, whispering among themselves about school life, lessons, and their families. However, Hadrian's aura of authority and coldness deterred them from asking further questions.

When evening came, the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade station. Students disembarking the train were greeted by Hagrid's booming voice, and the first-year students crossed the Black Lake in boats to reach Hogwarts Castle. In the Great Hall, after the Sorting Hat's song ended, names began to be called. Professor McGonagall's voice could be heard above the excited whispers in the hall.

"Potter, Hadrian!"

There was an instant silence in the hall. Considering the resonance of the name Harry Potter in the wizarding world, everyone was familiar with this name. Many thought that the older brother of the "Boy Who Lived" would go to Gryffindor, just like his family. Dumbledore, sitting at the Head Table, looked intently at Hadrian through his half-moon spectacles.

A faint expression of curiosity was on his face. Severus Snape, sitting beside him, had his usual impassive expression, but his eyes lingered on Hadrian; he couldn't hide his deep hatred for the Potter surname.

Hadrian, for this long-awaited moment, stepped forward with calm strides. There was no emotion on his face. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on Hadrian's head. The Hat remained silent in Hadrian's mind for a while, then began to speak in a thoughtful, muffled voice: "Interesting... Very interesting... I see a great hunger for knowledge, yes.

An intelligent mind, a soul seeking wisdom... But there's more... A strong will, boundless ambition... The anger he feels towards his family pushes him onto his own path... A unique path... A high intellect... Yes... Definitely..."

While the entire hall held its breath, the booming voice of the Sorting Hat echoed: "SLYTHERIN!"

There was complete silence in the Great Hall. This was a moment of absolute shock. Then whispers rose, and shocked and doubtful glances turned towards Hadrian. For the first time in over a hundred years, a Potter had been sorted into a house other than Gryffindor.

Dumbledore's faint smile froze, the sparkle in his eyes replaced by momentary astonishment. This was not something he had planned. A Potter going to Slytherin... What did this mean for the prophecy? His mind quickly began generating new scenarios.
On Severus Snape's face, however, a deep unhappiness appeared after that momentary surprise. The idea of a Potter coming to his own house bothered him. The son of James Potter, whom he hated, coming not to one of the houses he hated, but to his very own house, Slytherin, was unbearable to him. The dark clouds that gathered on his face were fueled not only by this sudden development but also by painful memories of the past.

However, Cassiopea Malfoy, Andreina Zabini, Alexander Parkinson, Damian Greengrass, and Izar Nott, who had gotten to know Hadrian a little on the train, were not at all surprised by this "Potter" being sorted into Slytherin, given his stern demeanor and determined gaze despite his small appearance. In fact, a faint, hidden look of satisfaction appeared on Cassiopea's face. Hadrian, holding his head high, walked towards the Slytherin table, gave a cold nod to his new housemates, and sat down in an empty seat.

Chapter Text

Charlus Fleamont Potter. The Boy Who Lived, the Golden Boy of the Light, the Hero Who Vanquished the Dark Lord. These were the names he was given. All these grand titles followed him, like a brand seared onto his forehead, accompanying every moment of his life. Even though he didn't remember anything about it, everyone, including his family, told him the same thing: when he was just a baby, he had done something, something to defeat one of the two most terrifying Dark Lords in history. That's why he was so special. Or so he thought, until he climbed to the attic, a place he had never been before, and came face to face with a magnificent-looking child who harboured a feeling of fear.

There was only one day left until he would go to Hogwarts. In the morning, he would board the train and finally head to the school where he would spend the next seven years. The thought filled him with an indescribable excitement. He was wandering aimlessly all over the house, passing the time by talking to the old portraits. It was as if he was trying to absorb every corner of the house one last time. That is, until he realised he had never actually been to the attic. This mysterious, unexplored area seemed like the perfect target to satisfy his last day's curiosity. With the expectation of a dusty, dark, and cobweb-filled space in his mind, he climbed the stairs with heavy steps.

However, when he reached the top of the stairs and peered through the slightly ajar door, the sight that greeted him left him astonished. Contrary to his expectations, he was met with a beautiful, bright room in shades of pink, purple, and white, as if it had been pulled from a fairy tale. The sunlight streaming in through the large triangular window in the ceiling filled the room with a golden glow. Right in the middle of the room, a bed covered in soft-looking, snow-white sheets, as if made of bird feathers, with massive plush animals on it, was strangely cast in shadow. Opposite the bed, a wardrobe in a light purple colour, which looked quite large compared to the rest of the room, drew his attention. The wardrobe's surroundings were decorated with colourful flowers and random childlike drawings, as if they carried the traces of a small artist who once lived in this room. In the middle of the room, a soft, square-shaped white rug with pink stripes was laid out. A few notebooks, books, and pencils lay scattered on the rug, evidently used not long ago. The other side of the room was completed by a wooden bookcase that was large compared to his but much smaller than his parents', a chic study desk, a small nightstand, and a small canvas resting on it. In front of the canvas was a tiny stool and a side table. The black, green, and orange scribbles on the canvas showed that the person who used it was not very talented. It looked as though a human face was being attempted, but it resembled the scrawls of a seven or eight-year-old. Or so Charlus wanted to think. Deep down, he didn't want to admit that these scribbles were better than his own drawings, and even this stirred a strange feeling of jealousy within him.

As he was about to look more closely at the picture, he was startled by a faint noise from the adjacent room and instinctively ran towards it. Someone was here! The person he saw looked as if they had just stepped out of a painting. It was a very handsome boy who looked like he had just come in from outside, having just taken off his jacket and dazzling in his high-quality clothes underneath. He looked two or three years older than Charlus. His wavy, jet-black hair fell to his shoulders, glistening in the light. His brilliant green eyes were even brighter and more beautiful than his own eyes, which he had always admired, and his mother's. His pale, snow-white skin, combined with the sunlight streaming in, made him look like a porcelain doll. He wore a crisp, white shirt, a pair of jet-black trousers that fit his legs perfectly, and a stylish waistcoat in a colour of green that was almost black. The quality fabrics that encased him all indicated that the wearer was privileged; after all, Charlus wore clothes of a similar quality and had an idea about his family's wealth.

When the boy noticed and saw Charlus, he scowled fiercely. His eyes lingered on Charlus's face, and he twisted his features in a displeased expression. It was as if he wanted to swat away an annoying fly. Without any explanation, he walked over to a comfortable armchair in the room, sat down, and calmly crossed one leg over the other, starting to take off his shoe.
"You must be Charlus," he said in a voice as cold as ice, his eyes never leaving Charlus. "What are you doing here? I didn't expect to see you here after ten years."

Charlus's surprise instantly turned to anger. Who was this stranger, and who was he to act so at home in their house? "Who are you?! What are you doing in our house?!" he yelled, his voice higher-pitched than he expected.

The boy, pulling his other foot up onto his leg and reaching for his shoe, deepened his scowl, and the look of contempt on his face became more pronounced. "I am your older brother, you brat. Show some respect to your elders and mind your manners. That is, if they had the chance to teach you anything without spoiling you rotten." The sarcastic tone in his last sentence fanned the flames of Charlus's anger.

"My brother? I don't have a brother! If you're my brother, where have you been for ten years? Why are you here? Why have I never seen you?" Charlus's voice was trembling, his head was spinning, and his heart was pounding. He had thought he was an only child his entire life. This stranger was turning everything he knew upside down.

The boy replied, his mocking smile not leaving his face. "You'll have to ask your mother and father about that. After their precious child was born, they found it worthwhile to cast aside their first child and leave him in an attic. Of course, you wouldn't have known about me. They must not have had time to remember any other child, son or daughter, other than their precious one." His words were like venomous arrows piercing Charlus's heart.

"My mum and dad aren't like that!" Charlus's voice turned into a shaky scream. His belief in his family was shaken.

"Then why have you had no news of me for ten years, boy?" the boy challenged, raising an eyebrow. "There's no need to prove our kinship. After all, we both have our mother's eyes and our father's hair. It's just that unlike you, I take care of my appearance and inherited our mother's features instead of our father's. I'm sure even you can understand that."

It was true. He and Charlus looked so much alike. If Charlus were a little older, took off his glasses, and styled his hair the same way, they would look like twins, aside from his slightly darker skin. This thought only increased the turmoil within Charlus.

"Now, little brother," the boy said, the contempt in his voice never fading, "get out of this room the same way you came in and enjoy your last night with your parents. Oh, and I suggest you don't mention me. After all, they might get angry at being reminded of the first child they forgot ten years ago."

After the boy said these words, Charlus's body suddenly lifted into the air. Before he could understand what was happening, he was flung out of the room and the attic and dropped hard onto the floor. The angry young boy, groaning in pain from landing on his tailbone, immediately scrambled to his feet, trying to rub away the pain in his sore backside while angrily insulting the boy who claimed to be his brother. He couldn't believe such an arrogant, annoying, and conceited person was his brother! He spent the rest of the day in a state of rage. Even though his mother, Lily, and father, James, asked him the reason for his anger multiple times, he did not answer them. He was angry at his family too; he had started to secretly resent them for hiding his brother from him. That's why he didn't talk about his brother or the reason for his anger. He just retreated silently to his room and writhed in his bed all night under the weight of this shocking discovery.

***
Hadrian was incredibly sad. He had once again left his little sister, Asteria, whom he loved more than life itself, at that gloomy boarding school. His eyes filled with tears as he watched the last carriages of the train disappear into the horizon. For long months, he would only be able to see his little sister in the reflection of cold mirrors or in rare letters; he wouldn't be able to talk to her, touch her, or hear her laughter. Asteria was his everything; the only source of warmth and joy in this cold, large mansion. Perhaps that was why, even though he spent almost every night talking to her, these partings left a deep wound in his soul every time.

Hadrian was sad. Yes, he was so sad that his sadness quickly gave way to anger. That is, until he returned home and, on top of everything, encountered that little brother of his. As his eyes involuntarily scanned Charlus, he felt his nerves tighten. Seeing this child, who was clearly well-fed, even a little plump, pampered, and very well-cared-for in every way, reignited the deep anger within him. Seeing him reminded him of his parents, who never wondered what he ate, what he wore, what his education was like, or what they had done for the last ten years—who had even forgotten their very existence. A tired expression spread across his face for a moment, and he took a deep breath. This child was not to blame. Perhaps this was why, in an effort not to take his anger out on him, he tried to be kind despite the storm inside him. After all, in his past life, if his own parents had been alive, he would probably have been like this child; spoiled by his family's boundless love, oblivious to the world's troubles...

But the boy was truly annoying. From the moment he spoke to him, he started shouting, repeatedly yelling to defend his parents, who had no defence to offer, and further frayed Hadrian's already sensitive nerves. When he noticed that familiar, dangerous glint in his eyes, he was startled by the fear of losing control for a moment. To avoid causing the boy psychological or physical harm, he had immediately removed him from the room before his anger exploded. Charlus's shocked face as he was suddenly lifted into the air and thrown from the room remained in a corner of his mind.
There was no need to make an already bad day worse.

That day, he had packed Asteria's suitcases one by one, feeling sadder than usual, took her out to make her a little happy, and bought her as much food and sweets as she wanted. Then, he took her to her favourite botanical garden and walked around with her for hours, taking her everywhere she wanted to go. And still, he couldn't erase that sad look from his little angel's face. Leaving her at that school, as always, had given him an indescribable pain in his heart. And now, the moment he returned, he had run into his brother, and his nerves were frayed once more. This complex and tiring day had completely exhausted his soul.

Hadrian was truly sad, tired, and angry. Impatiently taking off his quality, but now wrinkled, clothes and putting on his pyjamas, he entered Asteria's now-empty room. He began to tidy up; he placed a few books from the floor onto the shelf, straightened the messy blanket on the bed. The moment he was finished, he lay down exhausted on the large bed that was more than enough for two people, as if the weight of the whole world was on his shoulders. He tightly hugged Asteria's favourite, old, soft plush wolf and closed his eyes. His body, exhausted from fatigue and emotional weight, soon fell asleep. At least it was his last day to spend in this empty room in the cold mansion; tomorrow he would return to Hogwarts, and he to his own world...

***
The morning had started very tiring for Charlus. Normally, he would sleep until nine, not wake up with the first light of the sun, and would be gently awakened by his mother, Lily. Afterwards, he would have a delicious-smelling, carefully prepared breakfast and spend his day however he pleased. But that morning, while he was in the sweetest part of his sleep, he was lifted from his bed before dawn, wearily put into the bathroom, rushed through a shower, had breakfast, and was taken early to King's Cross Station. With sleep still in his eyes, he walked between his parents, in the middle of the crowded platform, as if he were in a dream.

Lily gently touched her son's shoulders. "You must be well-behaved at school, darling. Don't forget, professors can get angry easily, and this can result in a loss of points for you. But don't stress yourself too much about it. Instead, make good friends and don't forget to write to us when you get to your dorm." Her voice tried to strike a balance between worry and love.

James, in a cheerful voice, patted his son's shoulder. "Go on, little lion! Have lots of fun and enjoy this year. You'll write at least two letters a week, and you'll be with us for Christmas, alright?" His father's enthusiasm dissipated a bit of Charlus's fatigue.

"Alright!" Charlus replied excitedly. "I'll do as you say. But where is Siri? I thought he'd come to see me off too." He looked around, searching for his favourite uncle.

Just then, someone came up from behind and covered Charlus's eyes with his big hands. "Guess who I am?" The playful tone in the voice filled Charlus's heart with joy.

"Siri!" he yelled excitedly, taking advantage of the loosening grip to get free and turn around to hug the man tightly. Being in Sirius Black's arms always brought him peace. "I was expecting you to come with us!"

Sirius ruffled his hair. "I wanted to come before you to surprise you, but some things happened on the way, and I was a bit late. You have to forgive Uncle Siri for that, Prongs." He added the last part in a whisper to Charlus's ear. "If you forgive me, I'll send you five full boxes of Honeydukes' latest chocolate selection."
Charlus's eyes lit up. "It's a deal!" he yelled excitedly, without needing a plea for forgiveness. Lily leaned in and kissed her son lovingly, stroking his hair and bidding him farewell. James patted his son's head again, gave him back his belongings, and after saying some final words of motivation, enthusiastically brought the suitcases onto the train. Then he left his son there, in the midst of the crowd and the steam, and returned to his wife, to Lily. As Charlus walked toward the Hogwarts Express, he waved to his family.

After Charlus disappeared from sight, Sirius's usual playful smirk slowly vanished, replaced by a strange, deep seriousness. His eyes were fixed on the direction the train had left, but his gaze was plunged much further, into the depths of his mind. He just said, "We need to talk," his voice unusually heavy. James and Lily, noticing this sudden change in Sirius, exchanged worried glances.

King's Cross Platform, Moments Before...***

Sirius had actually arrived early that day and wanted to create an unforgettable surprise for his godson. However, while walking on the platform, lost in thought, he had bumped into a boy moving quickly, and this small accident had caused a slight delay in his plans. As the boy's belongings scattered on the ground, he frantically tried to hold onto his owl, dropping his other things in the process. Instinctively, Sirius bent down to help and picked up all the items on the ground one by one. Books, scrolls, a strangely shaped key... After tidying everything up, he held out the items to the boy and finally looked at him, remaining silent for a long moment. The face he saw had started a complex storm in his mind. The boy, not caring about Sirius's silence, took his belongings from his hand, said, "Thank you, Mr. Black," and continued on his way, disappearing into the crowd.

The boy's jet-black, wavy hair was a dead ringer for James's hair. It was just like the time when Lily, still disliking James, had accidentally made his hair grow with a prank spell. Sirius remembered those days; how they had laughed as they cut James's shoulder-length hair... When that hair started to look more like actual hair than a bird's nest, they had all burst into laughter.

And those eyes... The boy's brilliant green eyes were like Lily's. Only they were a little brighter, as if a priceless gem was shining within them. His skin tone and facial features also reminded him of Lily when she, too, was still a child. In fact, if his skin were a little darker and his hair short, he would have thought it was Charlus. All these similarities were like puzzle pieces coming together in his brain.

It was then that one of Sirius's old memories, as if waking from a deep sleep, came to the surface.

An image flashed before his eyes: a child with big, green eyes and wild black hair, with a huge, cheerful smile on his face... Giggling in his nappy, he was coming towards him with wobbly little steps. In his Animagus form, Sirius had transformed into a huge dog, and the child wrapped his tiny hands around his large head, clinging to his fur, affectionately rubbing his own small head against his while lisping, "Paddy!" From behind, Lily's big smiling face was saying a name he couldn't quite remember, holding a tiny T-shirt: "ry... arry... Harry!"

Harry. That's right, Harry! His godson!

As a sudden realisation dawned on Sirius's mind, his heart pounded against his ribcage. To be able to hold the godson he hadn't seen for so many years, he frantically turned around, as if to turn back time. But Harry had already vanished, melting into the crowd. As Sirius's outstretched hand hung in the air, a deep sadness followed the shock, and he began to think about the last ten years. How had he not seen his godson for all these years? How had he not been able to remember him? These thoughts were like a gnawing pain stabbing his brain. This lapse in memory felt like an unforgivable mistake.

***
Hadrian sat in his usual spot in the middle of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, his posture relaxed and confident. Although his eyes were fixed on the eggy bread on the shiny silver plate in front of him, his mind was somewhere else entirely. He was still affected by the morning's events and the familiar yet foreign expression on Sirius's face. "Old dog father..." he thought to himself, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "He had appeared before me after all these years, and despite seeing me, hadn't remembered me." A bitter smile briefly spread across his face. "Well... it would probably be ridiculous for Sirius to remember me when my own parents had forgotten their children." This thought balanced the pain and the cynicism within him.

Damian Greengrass, sitting next to him, lightly touched his arm, successfully getting Hadrian's attention. This boy, with increasingly beautiful and delicate features, as if sculpted by an artist's hand, had become one of Hadrian's closest friends. Their bond had gone beyond mere friendship, evolving into a brotherhood as precious as blood. Just like the others he had met on that train, on his first Hogwarts journey...

His relationship with Damian had started and developed much more easily than with the others. He was a member of a deep-rooted family from the Grey Faction—that is, neither entirely Dark nor entirely Light—who didn't care about blood purity but highly valued their family and traditions. He had no prejudices and was open to every friendship. It was as if he could see into people's souls, into their deepest layers. That was why he had insisted on befriending Hadrian from the very beginning, continuing his gentle persistence until Hadrian lowered his guard and tore down his walls.

Andreina Zabini was an easy-to-connect-with, charming, and clever girl. She knew exactly what to do and when to do it, acting with an almost innate intuition. Because of this, Hadrian had approached her with a bit of caution initially. Especially considering her mother's reputation as a dangerous witch known as the 'Black Widow,' who was involved in the Dark Arts, he hadn't been sure how she had raised her daughter. But it turned out that Andreina simply wanted to build a circle of friends who were compatible with her own personality—clever people who didn't do foolish things. Well, since Hadrian was the apple of almost all of Hogwarts's eye, he more than fit her requirements. And with Cassiopea Malfoy constantly following him like a shadow, their friendship had quickly strengthened and become the solid bond it was today.

Cassiopea was a truly interesting girl. Or rather, an interesting Malfoy. Unlike traditional Malfoys, she wasn't two-faced; she was a rebellious spirit who spoke her mind, said what she had to say directly to a person's face, and easily showed her displeasure. But at least she didn't hate Muggle-borns unless she had to for cultural reasons and didn't believe in pure-blood supremacy. Her belief was based on power and intelligence. She surrounded herself with strong and clever people and didn't care much about their blood status. For this, she had received many warnings from her father, Lucius. But the young girl stubbornly insisted on going her own way. In fact, she did so many things to annoy her father that Hadrian was surprised he hadn't sent her a Howler yet. But Hadrian liked her unique and rebellious nature and had decided to keep her by his side, a decision that had resulted in a completely trustworthy second-in-command.

Alexander Parkinson was a generally quiet but incredibly protective type. Most people wouldn't even notice he was around until he made his presence known. He was also incredibly good at Transfiguration and duelling. He was even talented enough for Hadrian to duel with him often. The only problem was that his magic was much weaker than the other members of the group. But he could control his magic magnificently, adjusting its power with great precision. This set him apart from his peers. Of course, he was grateful to Hadrian for everything, and Hadrian knew well that a grateful snake makes a good friend.

The most surprising of all had been Izar Nott. The young man, whose father was in Azkaban, had been raised personally by his grandfather, Teodorus Nott. Teodorus was an old friend of the Dark Lord, one of the first Death Eaters, and an extremely clever, cunning man. To a certain extent, he looked down on Muggle-borns but found all magical blood valuable, a belief he had passed on to Izar. Essentially a true Ravenclaw, Izar was a quiet, calm, calculating, and extremely observant snake. Hadrian could see his personality very well, and that was precisely why he had kept him in his group, in his court.

The young man sitting on his other side leaned in and whispered that the first-years would be arriving soon and the Sorting Ceremony would begin. The unspoken question was clear: who would greet the first-years?

Normally, the prefects would take the first-years to the common room, make the necessary announcements, and explain the house rules. However, when Hadrian established his own court and took the throne as the Slytherin King, that situation had completely changed for them. Now, someone chosen by the court would take over the duty as soon as the students entered the common room and explain the rules until the Head of House appeared.

Last year, Hadrian had made the mistake of giving this task to Cassiopea. After one of the first-years made a sarcastic comment about why he should listen to a little girl who was only a year older than him, the Malfoy girl had angrily sprung into action and literally tortured the child with a tickling charm until he started crying and begging. After that incident, Hadrian had decided not to give this task to her again.

"This time, Damian will take over the duty," said Hadrian, his voice calm and confident. "I think he's the softest-spoken person among us." After saying that, he closed the thick book in his hand and carefully placed it in the inner pocket of his robes, turning his attention to the entrance of the Great Hall to watch the arrival of the first-years.

As his eyes scanned the small bodies entering, familiar names echoed in his mind: Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Astoria Greengrass, and the others... Everything was just as it had been in Hadrian's first life. It was as if fate was rewriting the same lines.

Professor McGonagall, as serious as ever, walked to the front of the teachers' table with a parchment list in her hand and began calling out the students' names one by one: "Hannah Abbott!"
The sorting order was just as Hadrian remembered. No one was sorted into a different house; fate continued to weave its web. And after the quick sorting was over, Professor Dumbledore stood up and gave his ridiculously nonsensical speech he made every year and his endless warnings like "a new year, new rules, a forbidden forest, forbidden corridors."

"The crazy man," Hadrian thought, shaking his head slightly. It was as if someone wanted to die screaming, saying such horrible warnings in front of eleven-year-old children. What a strange world...

Hadrian didn't listen to the nonsense and immediately started eating. A narcissistic part of him actually wanted to wait a little before starting. At the Slytherin table, no one could touch their food until the King himself began to eat. Last year, he had accidentally done this for a short time and hadn't realised it until his friends told him. After that, whenever he wanted to be narcissistic, he would start eating a little late and leave everyone else hungry until then. This was a small reminder for him: "I am the King. You will do what I want you to do." This little game solidified his power and control.

When the meals were over and everyone dispersed to their common rooms, Hadrian, leading all the years, entered the common room and settled into his exclusive, single armchair right next to the fireplace. As the other Slytherins filled the common room, a large number of the upper years and second years went up to their dorms, not wanting to see a repeat of last year's spectacle. All that was left were Hadrian, the members of his court (Damian, Andreina, Cassiopea, Alexander, Izar), the prefects, and about ten curious first-years.

The first-years gathered in a silent group, watching the fifth-year prefects, as Damian stepped forward and the prefects slightly retreated. There was a tense anticipation in the air.

"Hello, everyone," Damian began, his voice clear and calm. "I am Damian Greengrass. You probably all have some questions on your minds right now, and I'm here to clarify them. First of all, the Slytherin house is different from the other houses. We have a court that governs the house and a king that governs the court. The last time a court was established was fifty years ago, and two years ago, the Slytherin King, Hadrian Potter, re-established the court and took the throne. As a member of this court, I will explain the rules that you must absolutely follow here. I therefore advise you to listen carefully. Because not following these rules has serious consequences. As punishment, you are cursed. The curses start as small things that anyone can break and turn into bigger things depending on the severity of your punishment and the number of offences you commit."

Damian paused at this point, and after a moment of silence, he began to observe the first-years. There were many students who knew about the court and were aware of their current situation; a look of respect mixed with a slight fear was on their faces. However, there were also many who didn't know about the court and its rules, or who would gladly defy them; in their eyes, there was pure curiosity or a hint of defiance.

Damian continued, his tone softening. "But there's no need to be uncomfortable or to worry about how to remember the rules. Because our rules are extremely clear. First rule: It is forbidden to say the word 'Mudblood' outside the common room. This is the first rule our King has set. As snakes, we need connections outside our own house. Therefore, we do not want to be prejudiced against useful people from other houses by having such a derogatory word used outside."

"Second rule: Fighting among Slytherins is forbidden outside the common room. We have a united front against the other houses. Snakes protect snakes. So do not engage in actions that would break this front. However, you can fight in the common room as long as you are not too loud. Of course, if you escalate it, we as a court will find the solution to the problem for you, as we will assume you cannot solve your own troubles. Third rule: Failure is unacceptable. In Slytherin, we are trained from our first year to survive in the outside world. We believe that failures here will follow you in the future. That's why we do not want to see your grades below average."

"And finally, fourth rule: In case of a problem, we want to know about everyone's problems and make adjustments accordingly, but we cannot deal with each of you individually. Therefore, the girls and boys will each choose two people from among themselves, and when there is a problem, they will tell them. They, in turn, will bring these problems to us. So, we expect to see four representatives among you tomorrow morning. These four representatives should introduce themselves before breakfast. That's all for the rules and explanations. Now, Professor Snape will give his speech. After that, you're free to do as you wish."

After Damian finished his speech, Professor Snape, emerging like a shadow from the darkness, stood before the students. With an uncharacteristically straight face, he explained a few basic rules and Slytherin's expectations, then, surprisingly, he mentioned health checks and returned to his quarters.

Health checks... The checks every first-year coming to Slytherin was required to have. Snape, surprisingly, cared about the little snakes. By requesting a health check on the very first day, he would find out if the students had been subjected to violence, or if they had any chronic illnesses or allergies. He believed he needed to know these things in case of any issues.

Surprisingly, he was a better Head of House than McGonagall. Hadrian involuntarily laughed at the thought. If someone had told him once that Snape was a better teacher than McGonagall, he would have laughed in their face before hexing them. But life, as it always did, brought the most surprising twists.

***
Lily's hands flew to her mouth, and she burst into tears, her sobs audible even over the noise of King's Cross Platform. James's hands, which had grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close, briefly tightened and then loosened, proving he was just as shocked as she was. That same bitter expression of disbelief and shock had appeared on both their faces only a minute earlier with the questions Sirius had asked.

Sirius's voice was low, as if he were sharing a secret: "What happened to Harry?"

At first, James and Lily hadn't understood what Sirius was asking. Harry? Who was that? They didn't know anyone by that name. So why was Sirius asking them about a person they didn't know? This senseless question only made the already tense atmosphere more complicated.

James asked, his voice filled with bewilderment: "Who's Harry?"

At James's question, Sirius's brows furrowed further, and with a face full of anger, he tried to clarify the current situation. His voice rose, as if crying out a lost memory: "Hadrian. James. Hadrian James Potter. Your firstborn son and my godson. What happened to him?"

Sirius couldn't believe himself. He had forgotten his own godson! For Merlin's sake! Could there be a worse godfather than him? Even Snivellus regularly looked after his godson, so how could he have forgotten his own for ten years? He couldn't comprehend it. He was furious with himself. In the same way, he felt a deep anger towards his two friends who had forgotten their own son. He felt betrayed, as if a secret had been kept from him, as if his most valuable bond had been severed.

As Sirius reminded them of who Hadrian was, James and Lily's faces contorted in shock, and they held onto each other for support as if waking from a nightmare. All at once, they remembered how they had ignored and forgotten their own son for ten years. In that moment, the foggy curtain of the past parted, and the bitter truth was laid bare before their eyes.

Hadrian. Their Harry. He had always been such a sweet, docile child. His jet-black, soft hair looked like night but reminded James of his own "bird's nest" head. His magnificent green eyes shone even more beautifully than Lily's emerald green ones. With his porcelain-like white skin and soft appearance, James had declared him the most beautiful baby in the world the first moment he saw him. He had thanked the gods for such a beautiful baby.

Harry had always been wonderful. He cried very little, and unlike other babies, he didn't disturb or tire his parents too much. Of course, when he started to crawl, walk, and even talk, he had truly started to tire them out, but they loved all those sweet moments of exhaustion. Every time that little angel was with them and in contact with them, he took away their tiredness, making them happy and calm. Of course, later, when Charlus was born, they had to turn all their attention to their newborn baby. Charlus, as a newborn, was definitely an exhausting child. Unlike Harry, he had started to tire them out from the very first days. That's why they had involuntarily started to shift their attention to Charlus and gradually reduced the attention they paid to Harry. But they had to! At least, that's what they had thought at the time.

Over time, they had assumed that Harry had also adapted to them and therefore hadn't demanded their time to avoid tiring them out further. They had consoled themselves with this thought, felt happy that they had such an understanding son, and started spending more time with Charlus. Then, on the night Peter betrayed them and Voldemort came, when Charlus defeated him, they had started to focus even more on their younger son. But for Merlin's sake! How could they have forgotten their firstborn? This question pierced their hearts like a dagger.

As Lily sobbed, shedding a few more tears, James's body trembled slightly. Since he had always been a child who received attention, he couldn't fully understand how his son felt. However, remembering how angry and sad he had felt when even his own family had slightly cut back on their attention, he knew his son felt much, much worse. What kind of parents would forget their own child? This painful question spun around in his mind.

Hearing Lily ask in a trembling voice, "How could I have been such a bad mother?" James tried to comfort his wife, stroking her shoulders. But how could he comfort his wife when he himself was so distraught and devastated? They were both crushed under this heavy burden.

Sirius cleared his throat, getting both their attention. In his eyes, his usual mischief had been replaced by determination and regret. "I think we should write a few letters for Harry tonight. We should tell him how sorry and regretful we are. Harry was an understanding child. He'll eventually forgive us, but even if he doesn't, we'll keep trying to be forgiven," he said, and stood up. There was a godfather-godson bond that needed to be fixed and there was no point in postponing it.

Lily and James slowly nodded and moved closer to each other, but they didn't even stand up. It was as if their legs couldn't carry them. They wanted to comfort each other and find a way to correct their terrible ten-year-long mistake.

Hogwarts, That Same Evening...***

When Charlus first arrived at Hogwarts, he had carefully examined everyone at the Gryffindor table, assuming that annoying brother of his would be there, too, just like him. But he wasn't! Then he thought, "maybe Ravenclaw." A Hufflepuff wouldn't come out of that kid. Besides, someone whose room was full of books must be in Ravenclaw, right? As he looked to the other side, he finally found his brother. But contrary to his expectation, he wasn't at the Ravenclaw table either.

The boy who said he was his brother was, unbelievably, sitting among the Slytherins, reading a thick book without a care in the world. A handsome boy with wavy, jet-black hair next to him lightly touched his shoulder to get his attention, saying something to him. Hadrian finally lifted his head from the book and looked at all the students in the Great Hall. His eyes quickly scanned over everyone in a row, passing right over Charlus without stopping, ignoring him. Then, he said something to Damian, closed the book in his hand, and put it inside his robes.

***
Charlus was quite angry. No Potter had ever been sorted into a house other than Gryffindor before, but this boy had been. To make matters worse, the house he was sorted into was Slytherin, which was full of dark wizards who would prefer to see his own brother dead. How dare he call himself a Potter? This thought gnawed at Charlus.

After his name was called, he quickly walked over to Professor McGonagall and waited to sit down and have the Sorting Hat placed on his head. But the moment the hat landed on his head, it roared, "GRYFFINDOR!" This was it. This was what a real Potter should be like! This thought made Charlus's chest swell with pride.

A huge round of applause erupted as he walked toward the Gryffindor table. The twins, Fred and George Weasley, shouted enthusiastically:
"That's it, Charlus!"
"Welcome to Gryffindor!"

The students sitting at the table were smiling, some looking at him with excitement. Even Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, floated through the air to greet him:
"Hello! I'm Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Welcome to Gryffindor, Charlus Potter. It's a great honour to have you here."

After everyone was seated and the Sorting Ceremony was complete, Professor Dumbledore stood up and began his usual strange and interesting speech: "First, welcome to Hogwarts! Before we begin the feast, I would like to say a few words. They are: 'Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!' Thank you." Everyone in the hall laughed in surprise; this peculiar greeting had worked again, just as it did every year.

The feast began. The tables were overflowing with mouth-watering food. Hermione Granger seriously leaned toward Ron and started talking: "I've read the history books. I also know the founders of Hogwarts. The passwords, the rules... I've studied all of it."

Ron looked as though he was about to roll his eyes. "Well, I hope there isn't a test on the first day."

Seamus Finnigan also chimed in: "My mum's a Muggle. My dad's a wizard. He told her after they got married. She almost blew him up!" A few kids at the table burst into laughter.

Neville Longbottom added in a shy voice: "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to do magic. My grandmother was always disappointed. But one day I fell into the sea, and I surfaced with magic. That's how it was discovered I was a wizard."

Charlus raised his head with a self-important air and joined the conversation. "My mum and dad are both magical, and it was a given I'd come here after I defeated You-Know-Who. Everyone said so." His voice was full of pride.

As Charlus boasted about himself, a new voice joined the group. It was a rather tall, red-haired boy sitting a few rows ahead of them. Charlus was sure he was also a Weasley.

"Your brother, Hadrian, shocked everyone when he was sorted into Slytherin," the boy began, his voice a mix of surprise and admiration. "But after he entered that house, all the Slytherins sorted themselves out and corrected most of their unpleasant attitudes. Hadrian is loved by both students and professors. In fact, you could say he's practically worshipped. Especially when you consider how much he's loved by Professor Snape, who's known for his hatred of the Potter line... I guess this generation of Potters was born to do great things."

The twins, Fred and George, who were sitting a little closer to them, heard their brother's words and joined the conversation. It was as if they were speaking in unison:

"Yeah, definitely."
"How could a soul..."
"Not love Hadrian?"
"He's so clever..."
"So powerful..."
"So kind..."
"So cold..."
"Slytherin's magnificent king..."
"Hogwarts' magnificent king..."
"Who could hate him?"

This praise-filled conversation, which went on and on as they finished each other's sentences, was fascinating the first-years. What Gryffindor would ever praise a Slytherin? But it was clear the upper-years thought differently.

Another upper-year nodded, continuing the conversation: "That's right. About a month after Potter showed up, all the Slytherins stopped being rude."

"Potter was always helping the younger students and his peers. Of course, they love him."

"He's very smart and talented. He can do almost all the spells he's taught on the first try."

"He can even help those older than him with some subjects. Last year, I overheard him tutoring a fifth-year in History. He's much better than Binns."

"I'm more surprised by Potions. Snape rarely let even a few seventh-years use magic in his class. But he started allowing him to do anything towards the end of his first year."

"I know, right? He changes the recipes, uses magic, and makes potions that are much better than everyone else's. He's a Potions genius!"

As they listened to the upper-years' praise, the first-years were even more surprised. They had arrived here convinced that Slytherins were evil, Gryffindors were good, and the two houses were constantly feuding. However, the upper-years were praising a Slytherin without a care in the world and acting as if there were no problems with the others.

The one most shocked, and also a little angry, was Charlus. It seemed his Slytherin brother, whose existence he hadn't even known about, was practically worshipped at this school. Just moments ago, he had been called "the King of Hogwarts," and no one had objected. Being so oblivious to his own family made him uncomfortable. He also hated that his unlikable brother was being spoken of with such praise. He had thought that everyone would be in awe of him and that he would be the one being praised. Not his brother!

Charlus frowned and looked towards the Slytherin table. Hadrian was quietly eating his plate of only vegetables and protein, while also sipping from a glass of pumpkin juice placed near him. The blank expression on his face made it seem as though he were either thinking of nothing at all or was deeply lost in thought. Meanwhile, the other snakes around him were talking comfortably as if they knew him well, sometimes adding things to Hadrian's plate or refilling his glass with pumpkin juice when it was low. It was like a family portrait, but a family portrait Charlus could never be a part of.

This thought made Charlus even angrier, and he turned to his food, playing with it violently. Why was his brother like this? Why did everyone love him so much? The jealousy and anger inside him were slowly taking him over.

***
Hadrian was sitting in his designated spot near the center of the Slytherin table on a morning that was overflowing with the Great Hall’s energy. The long and heartfelt conversation he had with his sister, Asteria, through their mirrors last night filled him with a sense of peace. The joy in her voice, the sparkle in her eyes, had brought a small amount of light even into the darkest corners of his soul. Every moment he spent with Asteria, who felt like his only true family in that cold, enormous mansion, alleviated his sense of loneliness a little. There was a slight smile on his face, a sight that was usually rare.

His friends at the table—Damian Greengrass, Andreina Zabini, Alexander Parkinson, Cassiopea Malfoy, and Izar Nott—had already taken their places and were eating their breakfast. Their conversation blended with the noise of the hall, which was coming to life after the night's silence, sometimes rising, and sometimes turning into whispers. There was a familiar rush of anticipation and expectation on each of their faces as they started a new day.

"Potions class first thing in the morning..." Damian mumbled, picking up a piece of the omelette on his plate. "Professor Snape's first class? Perfect!" There was genuine excitement in his voice. Potions was one of his favourite classes.

Alexander Parkinson was sitting right next to Damian. He was a handsome boy with wavy brown hair, hazel eyes, and slightly darker skin. He was usually quiet, but now there was a clear look of displeasure on his face. "It's not perfect, Damian. This means we'll have to put up with those Weasley twins first thing in the morning. I swear, the moment I hear their voices, my stomach turns." His tone of exhaustion made the others laugh.
Even though Alexander had the weakest magic in the group, he could control it extraordinarily with Hadrian's help, and that made him unique. This gratitude made him extremely protective of Hadrian and his friends.

Izar Nott sat across from Alexander, with a calm and measured demeanour. His dark brown wavy hair, ice-blue eyes, and tall stature made him stand out. He had a charismatic presence, but most people stayed away from him because of his family's reputation. However, Izar stood out not with that, but with his own talent and intelligence. He carefully folded the parchment in his hand and set it aside, giving Alexander a slight smile.
"You're exaggerating, Alexander. They're a lot more tolerable than the other Gryffindors. At least they're predictable. After a while, you become immune to them." Izar's voice was calm and logical, as always. He was a snake who acted with logic and observation.

Hadrian, meanwhile, was checking the parchment scroll in his hand, his schedule for the day. He never rushed anything; he kept everything calm and under control. As his eyes scanned the list of classes, he followed the sharp, hard lines of Snape's handwriting. Sure enough, Potions was the first class. A flicker of satisfaction appeared on his face, almost imperceptible. Potions class was a kind of playground for him. Snape's lab felt like a sanctuary created just for him.

Just then, amidst the rustling wings of countless owls descending from the Great Hall's ceiling, three small, snow-white envelopes glided directly towards him. This was odd to him, as he normally only received mail from Gringotts or the rare shops where he placed orders. His eyebrows furrowed slightly. Reaching out his hand to take the envelopes, he checked the address on the parchment.

One envelope read "Hadrian James Potter," in elegant but unfamiliar handwriting. At the bottom were those familiar, yet painful names: "James and Lily Potter."

The other two envelopes were addressed more simply, with a single word: "Hadrian." One was signed "Remus," and the other said "Sirius." The peaceful expression on Hadrian's face instantly turned into an icy mask. The class schedule in his hand fell to the floor as if it meant nothing. His eyes were locked on the envelopes. The iceberg inside him was slowly beginning to melt, replaced by the pain and fury of a lost decade. It was clear his godfather, Sirius, had noticed him, even if late, and had told his parents what happened. And for some reason, they had decided to show a little interest in their own son after ten years. He had no idea about Remus. The man wasn't at King's Cross Station. Maybe after Sirius spoke to his family, he went to his friend and spoke with him about this as well. This thought coiled inside Hadrian like a poisonous snake.

He opened the letter from James and Lily first. The rustle of the paper grated on his ears. James's frantic, yet sincere-lacking, words spilled from the lines: "Our son Harry... there's no forgiveness for us forgetting you for ten years. We don't know how to make it up to you. Please give us a chance..." The letter ended with a shaky "Your Dad and Mum."

Then he opened the one from Sirius. Sirius's handwriting was messy, but the words were more honest and direct: "Harry, my godson... I can't believe how blind I was. I swear, I never meant to forget you, I just... while I was looking after Charlus, you... you were forgotten. I hate to admit it, but I've always been honest with you, and I'll continue to be. Forgive me, Harry. I'm glad I found you. Please write to me. I want to see you."

Finally, he reached for the letter from Remus. Remus's handwriting was neat, and his words were heavy: "Hadrian, I can't express how ashamed I am. I know how sorry Lily and James, and Sirius, are. If you ever want to talk, I'm here. I want to explain everything to you. Even if it's just to talk..."

A mocking and bitter laugh escaped Hadrian's lips. The laughter left a strange echo in the Great Hall, and his friends at the table looked at him with concern. This was not a laugh of happiness or amusement, but one of deep anger. A fiery rage appeared in his eyes, those lethal-curse-coloured green eyes.

Without taking his eyes off the letters, a green glow appeared at his fingertips. With wandless and wordless magic, he set the letters on fire in his palm. The papers turned to ash in seconds, leaving only a burnt smell and the smoke of Hadrian's fury behind. Those around him were stunned by this sudden and violent reaction, unable to take their eyes off Hadrian.

"Hadrian! What's going on? What did you do?" Damian asked, his voice filled with concern. The others also tried to calm Hadrian with similar questions.

Hadrian, not even trying to hide his anger, turned his head slightly to the side. "Nonsense from the Potters and others," he said, his voice as cold as ice. "A belated show of remorse. After ten years, they decided to remember me." In his eyes was the weight of the past and an indescribable disappointment in his family.

Cassiopea Malfoy was sitting right next to Hadrian. She was a beautiful, thin girl with platinum blonde hair and vivid ice-blue eyes. She was a Potions prodigy, talented in curses, and culturally very knowledgeable. But she wasn't happy that her family was more interested in Draco than her, and this had prompted her search to increase her own power, which led her closer to Hadrian. Over time, their bond had deepened. Hearing Hadrian's words, a cynical smile appeared on her face. "What good is belated remorse? They say you don't die with the dead or go with the gone. They're trying in vain," she said, her voice in a supportive tone. "Where were their minds for ten years, anyway? Are they just remembering you now?"

Izar Nott remained calm. His charismatic presence and ice-blue eyes made him stand out. Even though his father was a Death Eater, his grandfather had raised him to be a non-prejudiced and realistic individual. He had always been understanding towards Hadrian, and their shared hobbies had brought them even closer. He felt Hadrian's pain deeply. "Hadrian," he said, his voice soft but firm. "If you want, you and your sister can spend the summers at Nott Manor. My grandfather has a large library, and Asteria can play. It's quiet and safe there." There was a sincere invitation in his words.

Hadrian gave Izar a grateful look. "Thank you for the kind offer, Izar," he said. "But I'll find something. Don't worry." He had closed the topic and turned back to his food. His appetite had completely disappeared. He left almost half of his small breakfast, which consisted only of a croissant and coffee. He stood up with the anger and disappointment inside him. "I'm going to Potions class," he said, his voice determined.

His peers, without any hesitation, grabbed a few things from the table and followed him in a hurry. Hadrian's decision was law for them, and this silent following once again showed the unshakable bond between them. As Hadrian walked down the corridors, he felt the silent support of his friends at his back. The fire inside him was still raging, but he was no longer alone.