(DISC) The Rise of Hadrian Potter

When In Rome

"Oi! Hurry up you lot, we're gonna miss our portkey!" Sirius shouted up the stairs of Black Manor. Hadrian groaned, they had over an hour to get to their portkey and since they're part of Ancient and Most Noble Houses, they get fast passes to the front of all the queues.

He looked around his room and picked up a charmed rucksack with his right hand, stuffing several pieces of clothing in with his left. His gaze fell to the scabbard hanging on the end of his bed, waging war in his mind the pros and cons of taking it with him. In the end, he picked it up and placed it into his rucksack before collecting more clothes and zipping it shut.

He slid down the bannister of the stairs and met Charlus and Sirius at the bottom. "Is Canis even up yet?" Hadrian asked when he places his rucksack on the floor. Sirius shrugged one of his shoulders with a huff making Hadrian groan in annoyance. He ran back up the stairs and barged into Canis' room, having to repair the hinges and doorframe with his wand thanks to the force. He stood and stared at Canis' hair with wide-eyes, mouth slightly agape before a grin split his features.

"What the hell have you done to your hair?" He asked, trying to subdue his escaping laughter. Canis glared at him, slightly more than disgruntled before placing a cap on his head and shoving past Hadrian, duffel bag in hand. They descended the stairs and followed the adults into the floo room, stepping into the emerald flames and disappearing from the manor.

The group of four arrived in the Ministry of Magic and all eyes immediately snapped onto them. Hadrian and Charlus glared at the attention, Sirius grinned roguishly and waved whilst Canis looked disgruntled. The quartet moved through the Ministry and into the elevators, taking it to the Department of Magical Transportation. Once there, they gave their passports to the Ministry worker before being allowed to step through to the area of portkeys. The one they had been provided with was a large rusted bucket, lying on its side in the centre of a booth.

Canis looked around, confused. "I don't get it, how're the Greengrasses meant to fit onto this tiny portkey with us?" Canis asked, looking to each of his companions more than once as he waited for a reply. "They're already in Rome you idiot, they've been there for three days already and will meet us at their holiday home," Sirius replied, placing his hand on the lip of the bucket. The other three followed with both the adults placing a firm free arm around their charges. Within a few seconds, all Hadrian could see was a swirl of mixing colours. Blues, greens and reds all fading together to create a wall of spinning white.

He felt solid ground below his feet and his knees buckled from the speed of the portkey. He felt a firm hand on his back that kept him from falling and he stood straight, the dark walls swaying around him. Once his dizziness had subsided he looked around the room. The walls were different from those supporting the British ministry. They were sleek and polished but held a warm and welcoming feeling, the very antithesis of the miserable interior of their British counterparts. Hadrian stepped towards the entrance of the booth they landed in and tried to open the gate but instead found himself pulling his hand away from the scorching metal.

"permessi di viaggio e passaporti, per favore," (travel permits and passports please) a woman said from his right. He looked at her confused for a moment, wondering what the hell she was saying. "Parles-tu, français?" (do you speak french?) he asked hopefully, French being the only European language aside from Latin he had learned fluently. The worker looked up from her desk at Hadrian with stone-cold indifference but he could see the flicker of agitation in her eyes.

"Travel permits and passports please," she repeated in a dry tone, holding out her palm. Charlus placed four passports into her hand, all containing a piece of parchment. She checked over the permits and passports and flicked her gaze over her desk. She nodded curtly as the gate opened, allowing the four to spill out of their booth. Receiving their passports back from the lady, the group walked through the enormous building to a large, spiralling marble staircase.