Chapter Text
Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.
- George Orwell
The harsh dragging of chains across the stone ground was his only accompanying sound as he was escorted through the winding corridors. Harry’s hair has grown unruly and matted during his stay in one of the ministry holding cells, he could hardly see through the wall of oils and the grimy remnants of what was once his fringe. His legs ached and groaned as he was marched towards a doom he had long since accepted. Somehow he could not find it in himself to fight any longer, he was looking to his death as though it were a reprieve from the horrors of his reality. Soft dark tendrils of magic cascaded around his lower back and ankles as his time was nearing an end.
“Halt.”
His breath caught in his throat as a glimmer of hope passed between his ribs, jolting his heart and stopping the aurors surrounding him.
“We have a change of plans sent from above, proceed through the leftmost corridor and await further instruction.”
Rufus Scrimgeour. The current minister for magic waited at the end of the corridor. Confused and disoriented Harry looked up from the floor through his hair and lashes. The Minister opened the door and walked through.
“The Ministry has come to the opinion that Junior Auror Harry Potter should be tried for his allegiance to the late dark lord…"
Allegiance? He looked up incredulously and that was when his eyes caught the crumbled stone arches and he was thrown back into his own mind.
Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: He was laughing at her. "Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.
The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.
The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.
Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore turned to the dais too.
It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch...
And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and then fell back into place.
Harry heard Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing -- Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second.
But Sirius did not reappear.
The realisation hit Harry like a curse and spread across his nerves like a virus. The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he finally understood the volume of corruption and deceit that became the Ministry of Magic. His hands formed tight bony fists as he fought to keep himself grounded and attempted to piece together what was being said.
“He has been found guilty of harbouring the soul of the terrorist Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as: Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle jr and, The Dark Lord. We stand here today as judge, jury and executioner…”
His eyes pricked with tears as he was forced to kneel on his tender and aching legs. His focus started to deteriorate as he was dragged by his hair with his arms bound behind his back to the very thing that took his godfather.
“This order was passed under the belated wishes of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore”
Albus?
His brain felt like it had blown a fuze. He named his son after that man only to find out that the suffering he was out through was as a result of his late headmaster.
He had been kept in a cell without a bed, forced to relieve himself into a pot in the corner that was changed at random intervals. He was fed bread and water at similarly unpredictable intervals. He had no concept of time or season. It felt like an eternity. Every few hours or so he would be interrogated, cursed and hexed as the aurors struggled to overcome his unnatural occlumency shields. He tried to let them in willingly, offering up his mind for the taking but they were unable to penetrate even the outermost layer of memories and emotion.
He was alone for hours driving himself wild as he staggered through his own memories, turning over and over every possible occurrence that would have led him to this particular outcome.
How did it get to this point?
He had been bred and raised for slaughter, a child moulded and manipulated to fill the shell cast in a self-fulfilling prophecy. His mind brought him back to his first encounter with the magical world. He was taken to Diagon Alley by Hagrid, one of Dumbledore’s chosen loyalists. The half-giant had taken him to Gringotts to run an errand for the headmaster. He practically forced the stone down Harry’s throat and held it there with the amount of hints and information that he had given with very little resistance.
It was all a lie.
He had been tested for years, He thought back to his fourth year. His name was pulled from the goblet, why had Dumbledore not intervened further? The contract could not have been valid as Harry did not meet the age requirement for being chosen. Dumbledore had to have known. He had to.
He stumbled as he was brought back to his feet. He dragged across the floor in shuffled steps that were as wide as he chains around his ankles would allow.
“It is with great sorrow that we purge the world of both a talented duellist and a young Auror yet the punishment befits the crime. Goodbye young man, I hope you find peace in death.”
A faint chuckle sounded around the cavernous room.
Harry held himself as composed as he could manage whilst the aurors removed his shackles. With a wand pointed to the back of his skull, Harry was brought towards the veil and without so much as a final word, he was shoved brutally into the void with a scream.
He felt every atom of his being compress and stretch, it was agony. His body disintegrated as his nerves relayed their final signals to his brain. He felt every sensation at one in its extremes. He was stripped raw, frozen, burning, pulled apart and put back together. He felt every cruciatius ever cast and his eyes glowed the same green of the curse that condemned him to his fate all those years ago.
Blearily blinking his eyes as they adjusted to the light, Harry turned only to find himself back at the ominous purgatory, familiarly carved into Kings Cross Station. His mind was calm and his body was no longer wracked with tremors. He was numb to life and still. So still.
He had no heartbeat.
He was dead.
A shadowy figure materialised in front of him, the tendrils of Harry’s own magic expelled themselves from his body and cocooned him in a huge cacophony of warmth. He was safe. For the fist time in his life he felt truly safe. The irony of the statement went not unnoticed be either party.
Death spoke first.
“Master, I stand before you in my truest form, command me.”
“Master?”
“Yes, Master Potter, the one who reunited the hallows and called upon me, the boy who lived, the chosen one, and the one the prophecy foretold.”
Harry stared with a blank look on his face as he struggled to grasp the concept
“I am the master of death?”
“As I have already specified… Yes” Death droned out as though he was exacerbated by the boys failure to understand
“What does that mean?”
“As of this moment you are torn between two paths, you can either choose to accept both me and your fate and rule over the land of the dead… ”
“... or?”
“You actually want to hear the second option?”
Harry shrugged
“Do you not desire to rule those below you?”
Harry watched the wraith with an air of boredom
“You could be a god.”
“...”
“You could be greater than a god, you could be the RULER OF THE GODS AND MORTALS ALIKE”
The screech tore through Harry’s skull with a reverberating slash. He winced and held his hand up to his scar on instinct only to find the smooth expanse of skin above his eyebrow. His pulse skipped several beats. He began to run his hands over his chest, finding the familiar scars and deformities he had collected over the years. His search came to a halt as he found the back of his left hand. ‘I must not tell lies’. The only scar he was missing was the one he could not remember living without. It was, whilst a devastating result of an even more devastating moment, a part of him. He felt strangely lonely in his liberation.
“You mentioned a second option?”
“I see… Yes, I can send you back to the mortal world at any point in time. Future or past.”
Harry’s eyes widened as the possibilities stretched out before himself. He could go back to the Roman golden age, learn from the greats. He could see the glory days of Egypt or Ancient Athens. He could travel to the classical era and watch the brutal rage of Achilles as he tore Hector through the battlefield. He could trace magic back to its roots in England and seek out Merlin himself. His mind was running a million miles an hour racing through possibilities and probabilities.
His past caught up to him in that moment and an idea struck him like a hammer on iron. He could go back in time and kill Voldemort. He would save thousands. He would save his parents. Cedrick, Sirius, Severus, Fred, Dobby, Moony, Colin, Madam Bones. The list was endless.
His eyes brightened as he was overcome by joy at his revelation.
Death seemed to have caught on.
“You wish to see Riddle Jr dead? I see…
I shall transport you to the year 1938. You should be at the same age you were when you discovered the chamber of secrets. Riddle will be in his second year alongside you. However, his soul will still be redeemable, as all things are. Which identity would you like to assume and which form would you like?”
“Form?”
“I can transport you into the body of another. You will be given their memories alongside your own and will expel their soul from their body.”
He felt the panic grip onto him like a vice “Would they die?”
“A soul cannot survive without a vessel. Yes. they would die.”
Frantic Harry questioned “Is there another way?”
“Yes. I can send you there in you own body. However, Your scars will remain as they are linked deeply with your memories, erasing them could likely disrupt the state of your memory. You could forget your previous life as a whole.”
“What about the scar on my forehead?” Harry asked, reaching his hand up to the now empty stretch of smooth tan skin.
“I would have to put both the scar and a section of Riddle’s soul back into your body to not risk you forgetting him. Unless you wish to rid yourself of these memories? You could start again. You could become someone else, you wouldn’t find out about your past until you join me once again.”
His stomach dropped.
He could be normal, no more media, no more ‘chosen one’, no more fame. He could have the life he longed for at the price of forgetting his friends, his family, but also his trauma and grief. He would be given a blank slate.
“You have the emotional range of a teaspoon.”
Hermione.
“We’re with you whatever happens”
Ron.
How could he forget what they went through? How could he let that happen to them again?
His mind flashed back to Hermione's own scars and the damage that one night did to his closest friends.
Hermione was screaming again: The sound went through Harry like physical pain. Barely conscious of the fierce prickling of his scar, he too started to run around the cellar, feeling the walls for he hardly knew what, knowing in his heart that it was useless.
"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"
Hermione's screams echoed off the walls upstairs, Ron was half sobbing as he pounded the walls with his fists, and Harry in utter desperation seized Hagrid's pouch from around his neck and groped inside it: He pulled out Dumbledore's Snitch and shook it, hoping for he did not know what, nothing happened.
“I have to go back”
“And for your identity? I have several options, you could be a distantly related Potter, an equally distant Black, or, should you want your autonomy as early as possible, you could be the last Peverell.”
“Peverell?”
“Your connection to the hallows that allowed you to master them was through your relation to Ignotus Peverell, the youngest of the three brother and holder of the cloak.”
“I see”
“Your forename is not nearly pureblood enough for you to pass as a Pureblood Peverell; however, this may become an obstacle for you should you decide not to change it.”
“What would you suggest in that case?” Harry shrugged out. He was already starting to feel the fatigue of being overinformed, his mind was working as quickly as it could whilst under the strain of the masses of new information.
“Hmmm….
I suppose there are a few choices that do not stray too far from your own name, lets see:
Hadwinn Peverell - With Hadwinn meaning ‘friend in war’”
Harry decided he would absolutely rather not have any reminders of the wars in his past life. He shook his head silently.
“Hammond - meaning ‘high protection’”
This could work for him.
“Harman - meaning ‘grey man’ or ‘everybody’s beloved’”
No more famous shite, he no longer wanted to be the so-called golden boy. Hard no.
“Hebreward - meaning ‘Army protector’”
Once again, no more soldiering.
“Hadrian Peverell - the only one of the list as of yet that is not of olde english and is instead latin - meaning ‘dark-haired’”
This was the nicest sounding of the lot so far. Name meanings did not truly matter to the boy.
“You don't seem to mind Hadrian? How about ‘Hadrianus’? You should use Harry or Hadrian for short to ensure you keep both your dignity and name.”
“Sounds promising.”
“I shall speak to you soon young master, you must remember to open your vault and begin the emancipation process, the opening of the vault should procure you immediate notice from Hogwarts. A professor should come looking for you to kickstart your enrollment. It is there you shall find Riddle.”
“WAIT! How do i know i'm succeeding in changing the future?”
“We shall soon see”
“Death? DEATH?! I DEMAND YOU EXPLAIN THOROUGHLY!”
“We shall speak again soon master.”
Death's echo bounced loosely around his skull as he felt himself falling backwards.
His vision greyed until
all
was
silent.
✦ ☆ ✦
He blinked his eyes open again, adjusting to the light surrounding him.
He awoke in the same clothing he had been imprisoned and sentenced in, his informal auror field ware, although it was far too large for his bony, starved adolescent build. He was alive again. He took a cautious look around and identified that he was near the entrance of knockturn alley, the light noisy bustle of Diagon alley barely fifty meters from where he lay. Harry no, Hadrianus rolled up both his sleeves and trouser legs underneath the modern, light outer-robes. He gathered his strength and pushed himself from the floor towards the direction of gringotts bank, he slid past the hags and vampires, turning past borgin and burkes - Har Hadrianus made a mental note to revisit once he ensured he has enough funding to live until he could reach Hogwarts.
He pushed through the doors to the bank and was met by a wary-looking goblin.
"May your gold ever flow" Harry started
"May your coffers be ever full" The goblin reciprocated.
"I am in need of an ancestral test, access to my vaults and potential lordship status."
The goblin startled to attention "I see, I am Odbert, i shall refer you to Griphook for the ancestry test to begin with."
Hadrian was led through the main sector of Gringotts and into a private room where he was immediately brought tea and a copy of Quidditch Times which was on its 2094th edition. A rather broad looking seeker flew across the cover in ardent pursuit of a rather spooked snitch.
"Good evening young master. May your coffers be ever full"
"May your gold ever flow"
"Shall we get started immediately then? Please draw some blood from one of your fingers and write your name atop the parchment."
Hadrian silently took the knife and immediately sliced across his index finger, writing his name across the top of the parchment.
Hadrianus Peverell
Griphook look slightly taken aback at the name written but quickly smoothed his expression over to one of indifference out of courtesy.
Hadrian watched as surnames began to appear under his own.
Heir Hadrianus Peverell
Peverell - last living descendant - access to Peverell vault, lordship and land.
Potter - distant cousins to living members of house - No vault access - single asset granted
Heir of Gryffindor - access to Gryffindor vault
Heir of Slytherin by function - partial access to Slytherin vault.
Master of Death
The Chosen One
Hadrien grimaced at the final two titles whilst Griphook was singularly focussed on the acquirable assets.
"Would you like to be emancipated Heir Peverell?"
"uh, yes please, i'd like access to my vaults immediately."
"Understood Heir Peverell. Follow me."
Hadrian was led down the path towards the cart. He got in and barely had time to brace himself before he was nearly thrown off the back by the force of the cart. His young, malnourished body was barely strong enough to hold him inside as they arrived in from of the first vault.
Vault 154
"This is the Peverell vault key Heir Peverell."
Griphook held up the aged bronze key before unlocking the vault.
"I shall take two sickles for the ancestry test and ten sickles for the key." Griphook stated in an almost smug manner.
Hadrian barely heard him as he took in a vault rivalling that of the Potters.
His previous caution around having enough money to survive was eased the moment the golden glow flickered through the divide in the door.
"Do you perhaps sell enchanted mokeskin pouches?"
Griphook near scoffed at the underestimation of the goblins' repertoire.
"2 galleons."
"Done."
Hadrian quickly filled the pouch with anywhere between sixty and a hundred and fifty galleons. He was unsure of how soon he could return to Gringotts, better to have too much than too little.
Hadrian Received the Peverell lordship ring and signed his emancipation documents alongside his enrollment request for Hogwarts. He gave the goblin 5 galleons for his troubles before an idea struck.
"Griphook, are you in charge of the Peverell investments?"
"No my lord, Bogrod is in charge of the Peverell accounts."
"I need to speak with him."
Griphook nodded in understanding and led harry back to the private waiting room, this time he was given the even more recent 2095th edition of Quidditch Times whilst he waited. The very same muscular seeker was only the cover, shirtless and sweaty as he was pictured signing autographs from his fans the minute the game ended. Hadrian felt his eyes linger over the chiseled torso for a few moments longer than he would care to admit. He is straight. He had had two girlfriends in his life: Cho, a brilliant seeker and a wonderful friend and Ginny, a brilliant seeker and a wonderful wife. He has a type, sure, but that does not mean he is attracted to the masculine seeker on the cover, regardless of his chestnut hair, chiseled abs and aesthetically wonderous bone structure...
Maybe Hadrian just had a thing for seekers regardless of gender?
He found himself flicking through the magazine in search of the article about the aforementioned seeker. His name was Josef Wronski. Hadrian eyes near bulged out of his skull at the revelation. That must be it, he must've unconsciously recognised the famed player and mistook admiration for attraction.
Just as he was about to start reading the contents of the article, Bogrod entered the room with masses of paperwork and reports in tow.
Hadrian closed the article instinctively and placed it face down on the coffee table as he felt his face heat slightly.
"May your gold ever flow"
"May your coffers be ever full"
"Right Lord Peverell, these are the current accounts, i have taken the liberty of removing any investments at risk of decreased value. Your current charge is at 10% which is half of the current rate due to the age of the vault. Please sign here to make any amendments to your investments."
Bogrod held out a quill as a single scroll flew towards him. Hadrian signed immediately.
"I would like to make additional investments, both muggle and magical. firstly i would like to invest in muggle automobiles, aviation and electronics. Please look for larger shares in the following companies once they come to fruition: Apple, Samsung, Tesla, Lamborghini, Rolls Royce, BMW, Ford, any and all aviation companies, NASA, Cadbury, Coca-Cola, International Telephone and Telegraph, Sheraton Hotels, Hilton Hotel, Continental Banking, Hartford Fire Insurance, Avis Rent-a-Car. And for the wizarding world: Flourish and Blotts, Nimbus brooms, Comet brooms, Firebolt brooms, Thunderbolt brooms, A joke shop that should be run by weazleys and any others you believe would make a good addition."
Exasperated and highly suspicious, Bogrod remarked "My lord, more than half of these don't exist"
"Yet" Hadrian added with a sly wink. "Not a word of this leaves this room."
"Of course sir, will that be all?"
"Yes that shall be all for now, May your gold ever flow."
"May your coffers be ever full"
✦ ☆ ✦
Hadrian, now significantly better off made his way through the uncanny old fashioned Diagon Alley. He garnered masses of attention for the strange clothes that were not only immensely modern, but also incredibly lacking in terms of quality and coverage.
He quickly ducked into an old-looking robes shop called, needle's thread where harry was quickly greeted by a young looking wizard sporting massively expensive looking formal robes in a brilliant turquoise.
"Hello little lad, how can i help you today dearest boy." The man questioned warmly
"I need four casual robes, three school robes for each hot and cold weather, undergarments, boots and formal shoes as well as two sets of formal robes and nightwear."
The man seemed impossibly more delighted the further Hadrian talked through his list, He immediately summoned a sentient looking tape measure which immediately began tugging at Hadrian's current robes attempting to pull them off.
Hadrian begrudgingly complied until he was in nought but his (now-oversized) briefs whilst he held his arms out to allow the floating piece of fabric zip around his body.
"Will you need one of the causal sets immediately or should I tailor everything together?" The store owner called from the otherside of the divider.
"One readymade piece for current wear sound brilliant, thank you!" Hadrian all but shouted back across the shop.
"Are you sorted yet young man?"
"Not yet, I shall require a badge that adapts to house once ive been sorted!"
"What year are you in then? First?"
"I believe I am to be in second year?" Hadrian questioned back "I am a transfer student and am starting my formal education in england this year."
"Ah I see, you seemed to mature for a first year although you have the stature to pass as one immediately."
Hadrian flushed at the mention of his height staring in the mirror as he watched his ribs poke through his skin awkwardly the moment his lungs started to fill with each breath. He had not missed this part of his early Hogwarts years in the slightest. He Watched himself turn and took note of every scar that took over his young body. Many of his scars should not have been on his body until far later in life, however he decided he could not risk the memories and chose to keep every single scar. His fingers lightly traced the lightning bolt on his forehead whilst it pulsed with a slight pull in the direction of the leaky cauldron. Hi seyes widened in realisation. His scar could sense Voldemort's presence and it was growing stronger with every second that passed.
The ribbon stopped moving as it seemed to have finished it's measurements and it retreated past the divider.
"I have a premade set that looks like it should suit you ready. Would you like to try it on?"
"Yes please!" Hadrian called out as an emerald green set of robes floated over the divider. The moment he held it in his grasp, the bell to the shop rand. His scar ached with need and his could was almost being pulled in the direction of the door.
"Hello again mr. Flint" called a velvety smooth voice
"Tom! My darling customer, and of course Professor Slughorn. No doubt the two of you are looking for fresh robes for the young boy's second year?"
"indeed mr. Flint" followed a lighter more energetic voice, that somehow sounded both older and more innocent than the one before it.
"And this is on the Hogwarts school fund correct?"
"Yes sir" replied the first voice, laced with slight tension as though embarrassed? Hadrian wasn't sure
Hadrian quickly slipped into the robes he was given and marvelled at how they immediately shrunk to fit his slender frame. He looked over himself almost critically in the mirror. He still looked starved, no amount of fabric could distract from his slightly caved cheekbones, narrow shoulders and slender fingers. But he also looked regal in the distorted pureblood way, He held himself tall and the fabric swept around him. He was broken out of his thoughts by a voice.
"Young man? I never did get your name. Do your robes look decent?"
Decent was an understatement. The emerald robes highlighted his green eyes and tan skin whilst also keeping a more wealthy view due to the emeralds that had been encrusted into the collar. Anybody could see that he came from money at even a fleeting glance, it was such a harsh dichotomy from his secondhand muggle attire he'd grown used to in his first life with the Dursleys.
"The name is Hadrianus and the robes seem to fit mr!"
"I am glad, I have another customer here that I need to measure so if you could step out for me to make adjustments that would be wonderful."
"Of course sir"
Hadrian stepped out from behind the divide and got his first glimpse of the young dark lord.
He was gorgeous, All sharply defined features and curly dark hair. He seemed almost surprised at Hadrian's appearance but quickly schooled his expression into a more neutral position once he'd caught onto his slip. He's so unrefined. He hasn't yet mastered etiquette and the unnerving mannerisms of his future self. Hadrian saw the boy in front of him as just a second year rather than the dark lord he had meant to vanquish.
Hadrian was staring.
The boy seemed to have noticed but he must have misread the situation as he startled and introduced himself first. Riddle Jr bowed with his hand outstretched for Hadrian's.
He froze.
Time seemed to stop as Hadrian began to reach his hand towards that of the other boy. Skin met skin and a rush of static flew up his hand. Riddle seemed to experience the same as he also halted all movement, marvelling at the hand before his eyes tore themselves to meet Hadrians. They were caught in a staring contest.
Mr Flint cleared his throat and jolted both boys into action. Riddle quickly planted his lips on the smaller boy's knuckles.
"Tom Riddle, well met."
"well met Mr. Riddle, I am Heir Har- Hadrianus Peverell." Harry replied almost on instinct, nearly forgetting to hide his lordship status before responding. "Are you a Hogwarts student?"
"I am indeed" Riddle smirked at the question, recovering smoothly from the initial shock of Hadrian's supposed lineage "I had no idea that the Peverell's were still around. I take it you are to be a first year starting this coming September?"
Now it was Harry's turn to freeze, he flushed at the assumption brought on by his scrawny figure "second year as well." Riddle seemed taken aback, mentally scanning to try and pinpoint Hadrian's house and background. "I am transferring starting this year" Hadrian rushed out before the boy could begin questioning him.
Mr. Flint finally decided to cut into the interaction with a knowing glint in his eye "Now Tom, I believe you've held onto the poor boy for long enough." He taunted playfully.
Both Tom and Hadrian looked down to find that they were still holding hands and allowing their magic to mingle through the conversation. Harry yelped, clearly startled and withdrew his hands as though it burnt.
Tom was quickly dragged behind the wall divide as Flint saw to the robe's adjustments all the while smiling subtly at the memory of the boys' interaction.
Hadrian payed for all the robes up front and mentioned that he would pick the robes up personally rather than having them sent to a specific address. He was to return in three days, for a final check before collecting his robes.
He rushed out the shop as fast as his legs would take him and made a bee-line for Ollivander's. Hadrian needed his wand desperately. Why had he not done this first?
He couldn't remove the image of Riddle's angular face and cinnamon eyes from his mind. He pushed against the door to find a younger healthier looking Ollivander. His skin was less pale in complexion as he had not spend years confined to the walls of his shop yet. His hair was a golden brown and he stood tall and energised.
"I don't believe I have sold you a wand before young lord?"
"You have not yet mr Ollivander"
Immediately the man summoned a measuring tape and began measuring harry. Whilst he began his monologue.
“Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, young Lord. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”
"Pine wood with a dragon core 13" and supple flexibility" Ollivander remarked, holding a wand out for the boy to take.
Harry's fingers barely grazed the want before it threw itself away from him.
"No, most certainly not"
Harry braced himself for a repeat of his first wand hunt.
“Right then, try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”
Hadrian took the wand and attempted a simple lumos, but Mr Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.
“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -“
Hadrian tried – but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr Ollivander.
“No, no – here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.”
The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair in the corner, but the more wands Mr Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.
“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”
Hadrian could almost cry from the relief of seeing his wand again after what felt like an eternity testing poor matches.
He held the wand in front of himself and cast a non-verbal protego.
Ollivander seemed to visually tremble with joy at finally pairing the wizard with his wand.
“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, young lord. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother should be in your year. It seems the two of you have very compatible magic” the wand merchant winked as he turned to place the wands back on their respective shelves.
Hadrian felt his cheeks flush through to the back of his neck as he remembered the horrific embarrassment of meeting Riddle earlier that day. He paid Ollivander for both the wand, a holster and leather cleaner for the holster, attaching his wand to his harm whilst he placed the cleaning kit in his expandable pouch.
Harry's stomach grumbled as he made his way towards the Leaky Cauldron. He ordered a plate of cheesy chips and a butterbeer as well as a room for the next week. Hadriant took his food and drink up to his room and sat on the bed. He'd barely finished his meal as he heard a tap on the window.
A large brown owl held a letter in its talons. Harry opened the window to let the creature in. It promptly dropped the letter just inside the window, turned and flew out, near-hitting Hadrian over the head with its wing as it made its escape.
Harry stared down at the letter bearing the Gryffindor seal. He tentatively broke the wax and unfurled the letter. It read:
Hogwarts admission enquiry
Dear Lord Hadrianus Peverell,
It has come to my attention that you have begun the process of transferring to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
I am delighted to see that the Peverell house has survived fading into obscurity and that you are alive and well.
I understand that you are entering into your second year?
I would like to set up a date and time for the evaluation of your abilities. This will be done casually and I shall suggest we do so at The Bridge Tea Rooms, Bradford-on-Avon, Wiltshire. It is a wizard owned establishment and is one of the earliest tea-rooms in the country.
I must also enquire, for the sake of my own curiosity, how you have acquired a lordship at such a young age?
I hope to see you soon,
Deputy head master and professor of transfiguration,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
Hadrian stilled as he finished the letter. An evaluation? surely this should take place formally rather than at a tearoom? something isn't right. What does the old bat think he can get away with this life? Hadrian's mind was positively steaming from mulling over possibility after possibility.
He came to a conclusion.
Hadrian requested a parchment and ink from the bar downstairs and set to writing a response of sorts.
He started:
Admissions assessment.
Dear Headmaster Armando Dippet,
It has come to my attention that I must be expected to be informally assessed before my admissions to Hogwarts is confirmed. Is this true?
Enclosed is a letter I received just moments ago from your deputy.
I must refuse to answer such personal questions as to why i have obtained my lordship alongside the request to evaluate my ability. I have not heard of such a phenomenon taking place before now and am becoming increasingly more confused by the concept.
Are all students in the country tested before the get accepted?
I should assume the answer to be negative as there is no other school in the country. Should I fail the assessment am I expected to self study? The prospect hardly seems likely because that would put half-bloods and especially muggleborns at a clear disadvantage.
I refuse to attend the poorly disguised interrogation and I assure you that I am able to perform all spells required for first year students at an exceptional level.
Many thanks,
Lord Hadrianus Peverell
Hadrian placed the letter he received from Dumbledore inside the envelope alongside his own and sealed the envelope using borrowed wax and his lordship ring. The Peverell crest sat nicely over the ivory wax. He sped down to the Owl-office to have his letter delivered and then headed back to the Leaky Cauldron and collapsed onto the bed. His exhaustion from the day caught up with him and he leaned into the soft sheets, closing his eyes.
The game is on.