White Heather for Protection

Crouching Fox, Hidden Serpent

As usual, the air in the Divinations classroom was thick with the pungent odour of incense. Hadrian stared listlessly at the shiny baubles hanging from the ceiling, idly admiring the play of light on the coloured glass. Professor Trelawney was going on about something to do with Jupiter's alignment with Mars. He barely paid her any attention on a good day, but now with that incident with Crouch on his mind, he wasn't even pretending to listen.

Gaze fixed on the swaying windchimes, he forcefully cleared his mind. The wispy fumes from the joss sticks lulled him into a light doze even as he fought to stay alert. Abruptly, his mind sharpened as foreign images played in his mind's eye.

An owl swooped into the window of a dilapidated old manor house. The room was bare but for a plump man, a snake and...some thing seated on an armchair.

In a strangely placid mood, Hadrian witnessed the conversations in the room before the thing in the chair whipped out a wand and trained it on the man. Detached as he was, he didn't flinch when the Unforgiveable was unleashed on the cowering man. He did, however, when he felt the excruciating pain hit himself. Somewhere far away, he heard agonised screams.

Then he felt his shoulder being shaken and he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?). The hoarse cries stopped, and he realised that he was the source of them. The Divinations classroom swam back into focus, as did the concerned face of Ron.

"You okay mate?" his friend asked worriedly. "You just collapsed and started shrieking."

"I'm alright," Hadrian muttered, picking himself off the floor. His forehead ached something fierce, though he resisted the urge to touch it. Who knew what kind of commotion that would cause with countless pairs of eyes trained on his every move. Great. More fodder to feed the Boy-Who-Lived's exclusive gossip mill.

Professor Trelawney drifted over to their table, scrutinising Hadrian with an unprecedented focus. "What did you see, Mr Potter? I know what it looks like when someone has had a vision."

He shrugged dismissively. "Just a migraine, Professor," he lied.

She narrowed her eyes and pressed him for more details. Fortunately, the hour sounded, interrupting her interrogation. He jumped out of his seat - clenching his jaw against the sudden vertigo - and hurried out of the room.

'Saved by the bell,' he thought wryly.

As he walked, he ignored the not-so-surreptitious looks Ron shot him. Now that he could, he thought over what he'd seen. That fat man had definitely been that bastard Pettigrew. Hadrian gritted his teeth at the thought that the traitorous coward was still out there, running free. At the same time, dread filled him as he thought of the other thing in the room. And he didn't mean the snake. The thing could only be Voldemort. The throbbing in his scar was proof of it.

He made an abrupt turn and detoured from his original route, waving Ron off. He couldn't hide it any longer. This wasn't the first time his scar had bothered him recently. It had never been quite so serious, true, but perhaps he shouldn't have simply written those other incidents off.

He could only hope that Heather wouldn't be too mad once she found out.

~~~

Hadrian

If it pleases you, I would like to invite you for tea this afternoon at three.

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. I've always loved the crisp freshness of Ice Mice.

Thanking the second year Ravenclaw that had handed it to him, Hadrian folded the note up and tucked it into his satchel.