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Consuming Shadows

Chapter 10: Chapter Ten

Notes:

So sorry for the long wait for this one! This chapter was a bit of a pain to write, mainly because I had to both skip ahead a few weeks to finally get this thing in gear, but also felt the need to include the general stuff that happened during that time.

Anyway, we're getting into the good stuff soon - and the next chapter will definitely include another interaction between Hadrian and Voldemort.

Keep those theories coming guys - they honestly make me grin like a loon when I see one or two that are either spot-on or really out there and interesting. Hope you like this!

Chapter Text

The next few weeks passed relatively quickly for Hadrian, as the students settled into their school work and grew accustomed to the changes to their timetables, as well as the presences of the other schools.

There was, naturally, still a bit of tension in the air; simply the result of the rivalry between the three student bodies.

Hadrian knew though, that once the champions had been selected and the tournament officially started, the childish rivalry would undoubtedly explode into an all-out war.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it was that children had the tendency to blow things well out of proportion.

For now, there was only a crackling energy that seemed to follow everyone.

Hadrian, on the other hand, found himself to be the calmest he had been since he had first heard of the tournament. He had not even noticed how horribly tense he had gotten after arriving at Hogwarts until he had slipped his false nomination into the goblet.

It was freeing for him to just be a student, to only worry about his classes and assignments; rather than have to spend all his time plotting and scheming ways around his problems.

Of course, being who he was, he was never fully relaxed. He was all too aware of how his enemy lurked in every shadow of this place, how anything he did had the potential to be reported back to Voldemort if he drew notice.

Which is why he was so very pleased he had managed to avoid Riddle for the past weeks. While he had enjoyed their little battle of wits – loathe as he was to admit it – Hadrian knew the man was far too dangerous to interact with for any length of time.

He had been caught off guard too often during their meeting, had gotten too invested in the conversation and trading of questions to maintain total control of the whole thing.

His mother would be ashamed of him for so easily getting swept along by someone else. She had trained him better. It was just…

Riddle had been fun to talk with. The man – while positively sinister – was sharp and quick-witted, with a dark sense of humour that Hadrian could appreciate. Excluding the obvious age difference, it was almost like talking to himself in a way.

Which was why Hadrian had absolutely no qualms with researching the man. There was nothing wrong with…satisfying his curiosity after all.

He learned quite a lot actually.

It appeared Tom Marvolo Riddle was quite the celebrity in Britain, particularly in Hogwarts. He had attended from 1938 to 1945, during the height of Grindelwald’s reign, had been Prefect and later Head Boy, a member of Slytherin House, the current holder of the highest ranking results achieved by a student at Hogwarts, and had been awarded a special school service award for helping fix some fiasco that happened during his time at Hogwarts.

He was also a half-blood, if the rumours held any credibility. Though no one seemed too certain exactly which wizarding family the man hailed from. Hadrian suspected to was his mother’s side, seeing as it was customary for the woman to take the male’s name at that time and there was no way ‘Riddle’ was a wizarding name.

Hadrian was also pleasantly surprised to note he had been correct. Riddle had been insanely attractive in his youth if that faded article picture was anything to go on. He was definitely have propositioned the other had they been the same age.

Alas, Hadrian tried not to go for anyone more than a decade older than him – the exemption being Claire’s older cousin whom Hadrian had almost seduced one Yule when he had been fifteen, her cousin being almost thirty himself.

He could still remember Claire’s scandalised look when she saw just how effective Hadrian’s flirting had been. Nothing had happened of course, but her cousin still could not look him in the eyes; which amused Hadrian to no end.

And if his calculations were correct – and they usually were – Riddle would be seventy. Even if Hadrian was interested in seducing someone roughly sixty years older than him, he would pick someone far more influential than an esteemed professor.

So, grudging interest aside, he was very pleased that Riddle had not had the opportunity to initiate any contact between them outside of their lessons. In fact, Hadrian would go so far as to say the man was distracted lately.

Which was not all the surprising. From what Hadrian had seen, most of the Hogwarts professors were involved with the preparations for the tournament. There were no whispers of what exactly they were preparing – likely it had something to do with the first task – but if the challenges were even half as dangerous as everyone seemed to think, it made sense that the defence teacher would be included.

The man was quite intelligent after all.

Hadrian was almost tempted to try and take a peek into the man’s mind – just because he did not want to be champion did not necessarily mean he was not interested in what the tasks would be, the more he knew the better he could assist the student chosen – his instincts told him that Riddle’s head was not a place he wanted to be caught snooping around.

So to distract himself he turned his attention onto his secondary fascination. Draco was more than willing to play games with Hadrian, and the boy was far safer to interact with. He knew the other was well aware of what Hadrian was doing, that he was simply being studied; but he also knew that Draco rather enjoyed the attention.

Whenever the two of them were together, regardless of others around them, Hadrian would more than likely spend the time watching Draco and cataloguing his reactions and responses – both verbal and non-verbal.

Because of that, Draco tended to be a touch more cautious with what he did, but he also seemed to preen whenever Hadrian’s green eyes snapped to him.

It was almost adorable, because Hadrian knew the likely thought process of the other boy. It was expected that if someone you viewed as attractive, or in some way equal or better to yourself, paid attention to you that you would appreciate it on some level.

He was undoubtedly boosting Draco’s ego. But that was fine, because the Malfoy heir watched him just as closely – if not closer – than Hadrian was him.

He did not even know what he was really looking for, but all knowledge was good knowledge in his opinion. The more informed you were – no matter how disturbing or painful those titbits of information were – the more in control you were.

Control of your surroundings. Control of your allies. Control of your enemies. It all mattered.

Draco was the sole blood heir to an extremely important family associated with Voldemort, as well as the son of the Minister of Magic. If Hadrian could glean even the slightest detail from the other boy then it was worth it.

Plus, he was completely intrigued with the Hogwarts students in general. Before coming to the ancient school, if asked, Hadrian would have described the students as subdued and fearful of punishment from their Death Eater professors. That they would be marched between classes, that everything would be dull and lifeless.

It was not like that at all.

Hogwarts was…a completely ordinary school.

Students moaned about their work loads, and mumbled curses as their teachers assigned lines for their detention. They ran hurriedly to get to meals. The hallways were filled with excited chatter and laughter.

It was remarkable. To see just how untouched Hogwarts was from the Dark Lord’s tyranny.

Of course there were aspects of his presence in the school. Most of the teachers had the Dark Mark proudly on display on their forearms, and no one ever called him anything other than ‘the Dark Lord’ with the utmost respect in their voice.

Certain classes had been altered as well, Defence was one, and History of Magic another. Muggle Studies was surprisingly still around, though from what he had heard about the subject, it was less about how muggles lived and more about why they were so detrimental to the wizarding world.

Despite the consistent reminders of the man, Hadrian found he did approve of most of the changes. He knew the benefits of an updated education system that incorporated both older, proven sources, as well as newer techniques that were being created.

He had also, in his time at Hogwarts, learnt more about some of Voldemort’s policies and the man himself; due to his careful interrogating of Draco, as well as Hermione.

“Wait, so you do not actually join his ranks until you graduate?”

Hermione nodded distractedly as her brown eyes ran obsessively over her Potions’ essay. “Only if you want to, though,” she mumbled as an afterthought.

“What do you mean?”

Draco snorted quietly to himself from his seat, shooting Hadrian a look that was almost patronising. Hermione looked up from her work, a small confused knot forming between her brows.

“It’s not a cult, Hadrian. There is some choice in the matter. Only those that wish to serve the Dark Lord take the mark, and only once they are old enough to fully understand the implications of their decisions.”

She must have spotted his doubt, for she laughed a little. “Think Hadrian, what possible use would he have for a bunch of children fighting for him? It is like becoming the elite fighting force of Britain, you have the option to choose a different path if you want.”

“So…” he hesitated momentarily, “you won’t be taking the mark once you graduate?”

Her quill paused mid-word, and Hadrian noted that even Draco had stopped what he was doing. The two Hogwarts students locked eyes for a split second, seeming to have a private conversation.

“I’m not…entirely sure, really.” Hermione said slowly, fingers nervously running over her quill, switching it between her right and left hand. She stopped when she noticed Hadrian’s eyes dart down to follow the movement, both recognising it for the weakness it was.

“I just can see myself following a different path.” She said firmly. Next to her, Draco absently rubbed his left forearm, accidentally smudging ink onto the pale skin there.

“And you, Draco?” he asked, though he was fairly sure he already knew the answer. While there might be some choice in the matter, he was sure that some children would be expected to take the mark no matter what they wished.

The blond’s nimble fingers froze in their ministrations, and he cleared his throat. “I will be taking the mark once I graduate,” he said calmly.

Hadrian nodded, having expected that.

Something much like annoyance sparked through the other boy’s grey eyes. “I’m doing it because I want to.” He almost snapped, as if Hadrian’s lack-of-surprise at his declaration was an insult. “I could refuse if I wanted.”

It had been sobering, in a way, to learn that people were not forcibly induced into Voldemort’s ranks. Yes, Draco and other pureblood heirs like him, would be expected to take the mark; but what mattered was that they could say no.

Things were clearly very different from what he and his mother thought.

There was also the matter of his rising notoriety amongst the students. Word of his effortless win over Goyle had spread rather quickly, and while no one seemed particularly surprised that the hulking boy had lost, it had drawn a fair amount of attention.

Especially since Hadrian had easily established himself as a seriously talented wizard.

Mostly everyone knew who he was by this point – whether by name or sight – and while he was not shocked, it was a little tiresome having so many students either clamouring to talk to him, or simply watching him.

His fellow students at Beauxbatons might share the awe or respect he was receiving from the other schools, and knew that he typically enjoyed it; but they also knew that he did not appreciate being bothered constantly by others.

It was a delicate balance.

But Hadrian simply accepted the increased attention with grace.

Adalard Forst had been one of the students that was especially keen on talking to him whenever the opportunity arose, much to the contention of the other Durmstrang students. He did not know the boy’s motives yet, he was not trying to gain information on him – as far as he could tell – and had shown no sign that he was attracted to Hadrian.

He also did not seem bothered by the muggleborn status Hadrian claimed. If anything, it made Adalard more interested in talking to him.

For now, he was willing to humour the other, since there was nothing wrong with making ties with a Durmstrang. It could prove beneficial in the future, so Hadrian tolerated the boy’s presence whenever he happened to find him in his company.

The days continued to pass quickly, and the time to announce the champions drew ever closer.

OoO

“Hurry up!” Claire snapped, her foot tapping impatiently on the stone floor of the courtyard. Her blue eyes were glaring at her slowly moving friend.

Hadrian watched her with bubbling amusement as he purposefully slowed down even more.

The part-veela grit her teeth in frustration.

“Calm down, Claire. It does not start for another ten minutes. We have plenty of time.”

“Yes, but I want a good seat to see things from. You suddenly embracing your inner flobberworm is not as funny as you seem to think.”

He rolled his eyes with such exaggeration that it almost broke her annoyance at him. Damn Hadrian for always being able to charm anyone.

“Jacob will save us seats, and if he doesn’t, Raina will. Why are you even so excited? A classmate is basically about to be sentenced to death.”

And just like that, her enthusiasm dissipated.

He spotted the change in her immediately – of course he did – for his eyes softened and he quickly moved to her side.

He gently clasped her shoulders and waited until she was looking at him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “that was cruel of me. Let’s get inside.”

He tried to guide her towards the doors, but she refused to move. Curious and mildly concerned that his thoughtless comment had hurt her, he squeezed her shoulder in question.

“What…” She began quietly, “what if it is you they call? I know I said I was excited, but if it is you? I do not know how I would feel. And you are right, these tasks are deadly, whoever is called could die and I know you are strong and smart and capable of incredible things. But there is a part of me that worries that if you get called you could die and I would lose my best friend and –”

Hadrian blinked rapidly, stunned at the flood of words she was releasing. Oh Gods, was her voice cracking?

“Claire, Claire,” he cut her off. Partly so she could take a breath and partly because he did not want to hear what she was saying.

Hadrian was quite comfortable with the unsaid side of his relationships. He was never fully good with expressing how much he cared for his friend, or with hearing how they valued him. He much preferred the silent knowledge that they had a strong bond.

When he had her attention again he smiled at her, “There is no guarantee that I will be champion.” He shook her lightly in time with his words. “Do you hear me? I might not even be champion. You are worrying over something that might not even occur.”

“You’re the one always saying one should be prepared for every possibility. And even if you refuse to acknowledge the probability of you being chosen, that does not mean that I am so blind.” She pushed his hands away from her, only to reach out and frame his face in her own.

Normally, he would not allow such a restricting hold, but Claire was staring at him so intently that he found himself unwilling to move away. “You know that I would be there to help you, yes? That I would do whatever you needed to stay alive. Cheat, lie, mislead, bribe. If it meant that you would survive, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

Hadrian stayed silent and nodded, honestly touched.

A part of him was eternally glad that he would not be champion, that there would be no need for Claire to do any of these things; while another was quite pleased that he had, in a few short years, managed to secure the loyalty of the heiress of such an influential French family. He would need that devotion in the coming years.

He covered her hands with his own, stroking her knuckles. “Thank you Claire.” He kissed one of her palms and smiled gratefully at her. “Hopefully we will avoid having you commit such crimes.”

She returned his smile, still holding his hands tightly.

“Oh!” A voice exclaimed off to their side.

Hadrian’s eyes swiftly darted from Claire’s face to land on the figure watching them.

“Mr. Abernathy,” he greeted pleasantly, rotating to face the man fully and smoothly tugging his hands free from Claire’s grip. “what a surprise, heading to the ceremony?”

The man’s brown eyes switched quickly from Hadrian to Claire and back again, his mouth twitching with what looked like a grin. “Why yes, I would have thought all the students would be there by now though.”

“We were just about to go there ourselves, sir.” Claire spoke up, voice perfectly polite. “Hadrian and I were just having a small discussion.”

“I could see that,” and yes, that was a grin he could see curling the edges of the man’s mouth. His voice tinged with teasing. Claire’s eyes widened a fraction when she caught his implication.

“Ah, no sir, we, we aren’t –”

“We are just close friends, Mr. Abernathy.” Hadrian injected easily, a trickle of warmth in his tone and a smile that showed he felt none of the embarrassment she herself felt at the mistake.

“I believe you,” Abernathy said in a way that hinted that he did not, but Hadrian was willing to let it go. This was the first time he had seen Abernathy since their introduction, and all his original curiosities came roaring to the forefront of his mind again.

The politician that did not act as a politician. The man that, within a few moments, felt some form of affection towards him. It was odd. Hadrian briefly considered if the man had known his parents.

He knew he resembled his father a great deal, but the older he grew the more Lily’s features made an appearance. Without glasses, the resemblance between he and James had diminished slightly the older he grew.

It could explain why the man liked him so quickly, but Hadrian was sure that if the man did suspect anything he would have approached him by now.

“Perhaps we should head in together?” Abernathy suggested, walking towards them with an easy gait and bright grin. Claire made a noise of agreement, so Hadrian conceded with a dip of his head.

“So how have you two been, settled into Hogwarts yet?” Hadrian passed control of the conversation to Claire, letting her soothing voice distract Abernathy so Hadrian could watch him quietly.

He appeared to be restless, his hand dipping into his pocket to grasp something before quickly slipping out. He did it several times, almost subconsciously. Hadrian suspected that whatever object the man had there was quite valuable to him, and momentarily entertained what it could be.

“– House?”

“Oh, Hufflepuff. What about at Beauxbatons? I’ll admit I don’t know all that much about it.” Abernathy laughed, as if his lack of knowledge was some form of joke. Claire returned his amusement with a polite smile.

“We do not have Houses at our academy, I’m afraid Mr. Abernathy.”

The man blinked in surprise, the expression far too innocent to be faked. “Truly? None at all?”

Claire and Hadrian looked back at him, their faces a mirror of detached interest.

“But don’t you have a lot of students?”

“We have over five-thousand students, including our junior academy.”

Abernathy’s eyebrows shot up and he let out a low whistle. “And they only sent about thirty of you?”

Hadrian shrugged fluidly, and gave the man a smile with just a hint of teeth. “We are the best.” The corner of Claire’s mouth twitched upwards.

“And Hadrian is the best of us.” She said proudly, eerily similar to how a mother might boast of her child’s achievements. Hadrian almost smiled at the comparison, easily being able to see Claire as a mother. She had the right mix of compassion and steel to handle children.

“Is that right?” Abernathy looked down at him, though there was no condescension or doubt present on his face. He looked as if he fully believed Hadrian was the pinnacle of Beauxbatons students.

He opened his mouth to clarify, but Claire smoothly cut him off before he could deflect. “Oh yes, which is why most of us already know who our champion will be.”

Quick as lightning, Abernathy’s eyes darted to Hadrian, an odd emotion flickering in them and disappearing before he could properly decipher it. Instantly, Hadrian began revaluating his opinion of this man. Clearly he had underestimated him – someone who was so skilled in covering their emotions was someone to be wary of.

He automatically began reaching out to get a proper read on the other, but Claire bumped into him, distracting him. “Désoléé.” she mumbled, sounding more irritated at herself than anything.

“So…you think you’ll be champion?” Abernathy prompted, uneasily. Hadrian narrowed his eyes.

“I keep an open mind,” he said before Claire could jump in. “my classmates are the ones you refuse to believe in alternatives.”

“Oh, please,” Claire snapped fondly, “you are the smartest, strongest and most skilled student our academy has seen in decades. The chance of it not being you is miniscule.”

“Miniscule is still a chance.” He responded dryly, both extremely pleased and nervous when they finally reached the Great Hall, able to hear the chatter of hundreds of students.

It was filled to the brim, the centre of the hall being dedicated to the goblet with the tables and chairs pushed closer to the walls. Students were crammed wherever they could find space, all straining to keep the artefact in their line of vision.

Hadrian nodded to Abernathy and shook the man’s hand, silently watching for any changes. “Until next time, Mr. Abernathy.” He said.

The man gave him a tight smile, looking a little put off from their earlier discussion.

“Of course, good luck Hadrian.” Whether he was wishing him luck in avoiding the title of champion or not, Hadrian did not know.

He and Claire split from the man and hurried to the section of students swathed in blue blazers.

Raina spotted them first and ruthlessly shoved people away to make room for them. Hadrian hid a small grin at the grumbles they received.

“Where have you been?” the dark haired girl snapped quietly. Her blazing eyes locked on Hadrian.

He held his hands up in defence. “Gods, get out of my face, we’re here now aren’t we?”

She huffed in a dissatisfied manner, but could not deny that yes, they were here in time.

“They will be calling the name in a matter of moments.” She informed them before ignoring him completely in favour for Claire.

Hadrian used the opportunity to look at the High Table. His eyes were immediately drawn to the chair besides the Headmaster’s. Voldemort, while not seated at the centre of the table, was clearly the most important figure in the room.

It was only the third time Hadrian had really seen the Dark Lord. The man was practically a shadow, never showing up for any meals, never seen walking through the hallways. It was unnerving to know his enemy could ghost about without anyone seeing him.

He was still grotesque, features just inhuman. But at the same time, there was something absolutely fascinating to look at. There was just an aura about him that drew attention effortlessly.

Hadrian eventually pulled his eyes away before the man noticed his staring – though he doubted the man would single him out considering half those in attendance were doing the same – and scanned the rest of the table.

It seemed almost everyone was there, except Carrow and Riddle. There was a strange flutter of disappointment at the defence professor’s absence that he was in no way eager to evaluate. It was curious as to what would be keeping the man though.

Behind the Head Table was another, this one filled with Ministry officials. With only a cursory glance Hadrian could pick out Lucius Malfoy, blond hair acting much like a beacon in the dimly lit hall. He could also see Abernathy slinking his way to a seat.

Yaxley stood and made his way to the front of the students, standing patiently with his hands behind his back. Once others began noticing the man, the noise dramatically dropped, excitement and anxiety taking its place like a cloud over them all.

Even Hadrian could feel himself tensing in bubbling curiosity.

“Thank you for your attention,” the man began, his voice effortlessly carrying through the vast room. “as you are aware, tonight is the night where the three champions are selected, and signifies the official beginning of the Triwizard Tournament.”

There were murmurs running through the students.

“The champions will be faced with three extremely dangerous tasks throughout the course of the tournament, tasks that will test them physically, magically, mentally and emotionally.”

Yaxley’s steely eyes scanned over them, his face grave. “They will be asked to do extraordinary things, to push themselves further than they have ever gone before. There is the strong likelihood of death, and each will become world-renowned for being chosen. But the winner…”

The silence in the hall was devastating. Hadrian had never felt something like this before, trapped amongst hundreds, all clinging to someone’s word. It was exhilarating.

“The winner will become a legend.”

There was an almost silent sigh, a collective breath released slowly.

Yaxley allowed them a few moments before he nodded sharply, “We will now begin the ceremony.”

The man strode towards the goblet, standing just beside it and stared up at the flickering blue flame. Every pair of eyes was fixated on the fire, rapt. Yaxley raised one hand towards the goblet, and though he spoke no words, he had clearly preformed some sort of spell.

The fire turned a blazing red, and grew rapidly, wild tails of pure magic spouting forth and whipping through the air. The hall was bathed in colour and the intensity of the heat forced those closest to the goblet to shrink back in surprise.

Yaxley did not flinch from the artefact, his eyes followed each flicker of flame, clearly waiting for something.

It became apparent a moment later when, from the fire, a piece of parchment was released.

Hadrian rocked forward in interest, his bright green eyes tracking the singed paper as it fluttered down to the Headmaster’s waiting hand. He breathed deeply, his nerves still tingling from the sheer ancient power that clogged the air.

Unconsciously, his hands tightened around the edges of his seat.

He watched as Yaxley easily unfolded the parchment and read the name. “The Durmstrang champion is Galiana Kaiser!”

The Durmstrang section erupted into cheers, and Hadrian pursed his lips when he spotted the girl as she made her way towards Yaxley. It was the same girl that had practically spat at him when they first met in the Potions classroom, and had continued to glare and snarl whenever they happened to be in the same area.

The girl – Galiana, he mentally stored the name away – held herself proudly, shoulders thrown back and head high. She shook Yaxley’s hand firmly, her brow knitted with determination.

Yaxley handed the girl her nomination and ushered her to the side where she was herded down a corridor and out of sight by another wizard, his attire identifying him as a Ministry worker.

Hadrian accidentally locked eyes with Adalard from across the hall. The boy in question gave him a small nod in acknowledgement. Unlike his classmates, Adalard was not cheering obnoxiously, and Hadrian wondered if the other had wanted to be champion, and was now disappointed.

It took quite a few moments to calm the chanting Durmstrang students, with their frankly disturbing Headmaster – Igor Karkaroff – having to swoop in and growl at them to be quiet.

With the commotion dealt with, everyone’s attention drifted back to the goblet, the tension in the air escalating once again. As if it had been waiting, the goblet once again flared and spat out a second piece of parchment.

Again, Yaxley took a moment to read the name quietly before looking up and over towards their section.

Hadrian tensed, knowing that it was the nomination from their academy.

“The Beauxbatons champion is Hadrian Evans!”

OoO

Raina felt, more than saw, Hadrian go rigid beside her.

The students around them exploded into noise, shouts of excitement and vigorous claps broke out.

Her mouth went dry even as she joined her classmates in their celebrations.

Hadrian…

Her dark eyes shot to the boy next to her, searching for his reaction.

Like always, there was nothing to give away the other’s thoughts. It had once bothered her how efficient Hadrian’s mask could be, how easily he could hide his emotions behind a stony expression or a calculative smile.

It had been unnerving to see such precision from someone her own age, especially when they had first met. But that was before she had learned how to read him, at least partially.

She knew he was stunned at the reveal, could see it along the tight lines of his shoulders, the way his skin was a touch lighter than it usually was, the small clench to his jaw.

Her eyes trailed passed him to see Claire – her friend’s face was a strange mixture of pride and terror, mirroring her own emotions exactly.

Pride, because Hadrian was going to be representing their academy, that he would be able to showcase to the world just how skilled he was and heighten Beauxbatons reputation by competing and winning.

But terror, because Hadrian – the smug, daring, creative, dashing boy – was about to risk his life. He was about to be tossed into situations that could very well kill him, and expected to succeed for some twisted sense of honour and glory.

While she had always known it would be him, it did nothing to ease the sudden rush of fear that flooded her.

Her mind was overwhelmed with images of the boy broken and beaten and covered in blood, surrounded by unimaginable dangers that he was unable to fight off.

Raina watched with a heavy heart as Hadrian was forced to his feet from the swelling students behind him.

The boy hesitated for a fraction of a second, indecision and anxiety flaring in his eyes. The weakness was fleeting, because not even a moment passed before his face smoothed out and he began to make his way over to Yaxley.

The perfectly blank expression did not fool her though, she knew Hadrian was still reeling from the reveal. She had seen him react like this a number of times throughout their years together, had seen him retreat behind a wall of indifference when he lost his footing, or was taken by surprise.

He was doing that right now, a default precaution to protect himself while he processed and analysed the situation.

Claire slid closer to her, taking Hadrian’s spot and the warm weight of her friend broke her free of her morose thoughts. She released a shaking breath.

“He…he will be fine.” Claire said, voice barely audible above the ruckus their classmates were making. A small section of Raina wanted to be ashamed of them, a much larger part could hardly care.

“Of course he will be. He is the best we have. If anyone can handle these tasks, it is him.” Raina spoke with conviction. She and Hadrian might not see eye-to-eye all of the time, but she was fully capable of appreciating a person’s strength and skill.

Though even as she said this, her mind flittered back to the images of Hadrian hurt –

Claire made a strange noise in the back of her throat as they watched Hadrian shake Yaxley’s hand and take the parchment with his name on it from the man. The Headmaster’s lips moved, but they were too far away to hear, and neither of them could lip-read.

“I will contact my cousin in the Ministry and see if she has heard anything about what the first task could be.”

Raina nodded slightly, “I will send a letter to my father as well. He will likely be able to ask some of his circle if they have heard any rumours.”

“We should also have a look at what some of the tasks in previous tournaments were, there might be a pattern or some information that could prove useful.” Claire continued, her eyes tracking Hadrian’s small, blue-clad form as the boy was ushered down the same path as Kaiser had been earlier.

“I agree. We will start tomorrow, I will ask the others to get in touch with their connections as well and see what they can uncover.”

Hadrian was theirs, after all, and they took care of their own.

OoO

He paused just outside of the room they had pointed him to, leaning his forehead against the smooth stone wall and tried to breathe slow and deep in an attempt to fend off the impending attack.

He could feel the minute trembling escalate as he struggled to get air into his lungs. He knew he only had a few moments to get control of himself before the Hogwarts champion would be announced and would be coming down here.

But it was so hard. All he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, not even his short gasps could break through the pounding of his heart. He could not breath.

Champion…

Gods…How…? How the fuck did this happen? What the fuck happened? I don’t understand.

He clenched his right hand tightly, the slip of parchment crackled harshly at the brutal treatment but he paid it no heed. His other hand came up and splayed across his chest, feeling the rapid movement under his palm.

Someone had to have slipped my name in. That’s the only explanation. Someone wanted me to be champion. But why? What possible motive…?

He twitched as another thought occurred to him.

Mother is going to be furious. The very idea of his mother’s reaction made his breath increased and body shudder violently.

She had not reacted well to him joining the European Seekers challenge, where he had still managed to keep a relatively low profile despite drawing with Viktor.

He could still remember her disappointment and anger at him – “How could you be so reckless!?” – and dreaded having to tell her that he had failed once again. It had been such a simple task, avoid being champion, and he had botched it so magnificently.

Their lives depended on him being able to keep his head down until they were ready. He was supposed to build contacts and alliances slowly, working and manoeuvring and influencing from the shadows.

And now he had gone and gotten himself involved in one of the biggest events to rock their word in two hundred years.

Being a champion meant unwanted attention. It meant that everyone and their dog would be hunting for information. It meant that his mother and he were now in an extremely precarious situation.

All it took was one dedicated reporter that was too curious for their own good, and their little family would be extinguished.

He would have to be so vigilant with everything he did, every word he said. Just one wrong move from him and it would all be over.

Ironically, it was that thought that calmed him down. The pressure in his chest began to abate and his breathing slowed until it was only a touch faster than normal. His mind settled as he accepted this latest occurrence.

He would just have to treat this like any other problem he had encountered. He would evaluate, learn every scrap of information relevant to his situation, then he would dominate it.

Because he knew that now that he was champion he could not afford to lose. This was an unfortunate circumstance, but it was not completely detrimental. Yaxley was many things but a fool was not one of them. The man had been absolutely correct in his assessment that the winning champion would become a legend.

Having that kind of recognition would be an immeasurable boost to his plans. Hell, it could be the thing that ended up saving everything he and his mother had worked for.

Hadrian pushed himself away from the wall and smoothed down his uniform, running his hand through his hair a few times and making sure he looked presentable.

With one last quick moment to collect himself, he opened the door and entered the room.

Galiana looked up sharply, her features contorting unattractively when she recognised who he was, and what his presence meant.

“You haffe got to be kidding me.”

“Believe me sweetheart, I am not exactly thrilled to see you either.” He responded almost automatically, his mind still swirling with ideas.

“I am going to destroy you, mudblood. Ve vill see vo is laughing in the end.”

“I wasn’t laughing in the first place.” He muttered, already bored with her. She was just another prejudiced soul that thought a person’s worth was dictated by their blood. Of course, there must be something special about her if the goblet chose her, but he would have plenty of time to study her at a later date.

There was another explosion of noise, muffled by the thick walls but loud enough that they knew the Hogwarts champion had been selected. They both straightened as the doors burst open and a figure entered.

Hadrian’s eyes almost closed in despair when he saw Draco ushered inside, a slip of parchment clutched tightly in his hand. The other boy looked a little pale, but besides that he did not seem to share Hadrian’s panic.

A man, dressed in obscenely decorated robes, instructed them to wait for another few moments before slamming the door closed behind him, and leaving the three of them in a tense silence.

Hadrian traded guarded looks with Gailana, before he slid closer to Draco. Out of the two of them, at least he had established some form of shaky friendship with the boy over the weeks. Gailana looked like she would bite him if he got too close.

“Looks like this year is going to be more difficult than I originally planned.” Draco said pleasantly to him, doing a remarkable job at hiding his nervousness. Hadrian could see it lurking in his eyes though.

He hummed in agreement. “I cannot imagine handling all this and our finals.”

“Oh no, my father told me the three champions are exempt from all exams. The tournament is, thankfully, seen as enough.”

“Honestly, I would rather take the exams.” The dark haired boy said dryly, prompting a small smirk from his companion. They lost their humour after a moment though. They were both disillusioned to the fanfare surrounding this, and knew exactly what could happen to them.

Draco held up his piece of paper, “It’s amazing, isn’t it? That one little slip of paper could be the reason I die.”

The name Draco Malfoy was scrawled elegantly for him to see.

His words brought Hadrian’s mind back to his own parchment. In his confusion and panic he had not even glanced at the little thing.

He quickly unfolded it and scanned the writing, eyes tracing over his own name.

“Are you alright, Hadrian?” Draco’s voice sounded far away and distorted.

No. He was not.

Seeing his name on the paper rammed home the fact that he was probably going to die, and there was nothing he could do to get out of this.

But what made it worse was that he recognised the handwriting.

How could he not, when for the last three years he had swapped notes with this person, that he had spent time reading over essays and assignments done in this writing.

Hadrian lowered the parchment, feeling something he was not quite familiar with fill his chest as a lump formed in his throat.

It was Jacob’s handwriting.