The Dark Slytherin (Trilogy)

Ch 10- The Attack

Hadrian Potter's heart pounded in his chest as he walked deeper into the shadows of Knockturn Alley. The eerie silence and the sinister-looking shops sent a chill down his spine, but his curiosity overpowered his fear. He wandered past Borgin and Burkes, its window filled with dark artifacts that seemed to whisper secrets of their own. He was fascinated, yet cautious, aware that this part of the wizarding world held its own dangers.

As he explored, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he quickened his pace. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of a dark figure, cloaked and hooded, lurking in the shadows. Hadrian's instincts, honed by years of living on the streets and with the gang, kicked in. He knew he had to get away.He turned a corner, ducking into a narrower alleyway, hoping to lose his pursuer. His mind raced, recalling the skills he had learned from Rex, Lily, and Max.

 Rex had taught him how to move silently and blend into the shadows, invaluable lessons for someone used to avoiding trouble. Lily had shown him how to stay calm under pressure, and Max had shared his knowledge of quick escapes and using the environment to his advantage.

Hadrian's breathing was steady, his senses heightened as he moved through the alley. He kept to the edges, avoiding the dim pools of light from the occasional lantern. The figure was still behind him, closer now, and Hadrian knew he couldn't outrun him forever. He needed a plan.He spotted a narrow passageway between two buildings and darted into it. The passage was barely wide enough for him to squeeze through, but it offered a temporary respite from the pursuit. He pressed his back against the cold, damp wall and listened. The sound of footsteps grew louder, then stopped. The figure had reached the entrance of the passage.

Hadrian's heart raced as he heard the figure enter the passage, the soft scrape of boots on the cobblestones growing nearer. He knew he had to act fast. His eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for anything he could use. He spotted a broken piece of wood, sharp and splintered, lying on the ground. He picked it up, gripping it tightly.

The figure emerged from the shadows, a glint of metal catching Hadrian's eye. The man held a knife, its blade gleaming in the dim light. Hadrian's grip on the wooden shard tightened as he prepared himself for a confrontation. The man lunged, slashing at him with the knife, but Hadrian was quick. He sidestepped the attack, using his smaller size and agility to his advantage.

The man was relentless, attacking with swift, practiced movements. But Hadrian had been in countless scrapes and brawls during his time with the gang. He knew how to defend himself. He dodged and weaved, using the narrow space to limit the man's movements. He swung the wooden shard, aiming for the man's hand. The makeshift weapon connected, and the man let out a grunt of pain as he dropped the knife.

Hadrian didn't hesitate. He kicked the knife away and followed up with a punch to the man's stomach. The man staggered back, winded but not defeated. He reached for Hadrian, trying to grab him, but Hadrian ducked and rolled to the side. He came up behind the man and struck again, this time aiming for the back of the knees. The man fell to the ground with a curse.Hadrian didn't let up. He had learned from Rex that when faced with a threat, you had to disable it quickly and decisively. He kicked the man in the ribs, making him gasp for air. The man rolled over, trying to get up, but Hadrian was on him, pinning him down with his knee."Who are you? Why are you following me?" Hadrian demanded, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The man glared up at him, but said nothing. Hadrian pressed his knee harder into the man's back, eliciting a pained grunt. "Talk!"The man spat on the ground, his eyes filled with malice. "You think you've won, boy? This isn't over."

Hadrian knew he couldn't stay here. The man might have allies nearby, and he needed to get out of Knockturn Alley as fast as possible. He stood up, kicking the man one last time to ensure he stayed down. Then, with a final glance at his defeated attacker, he turned and ran.He didn't stop until he was back in the relative safety of Diagon Alley. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his heart pounded in his chest. He had narrowly escaped a dangerous situation, and his mind was still reeling from the encounter.As he slowed to a walk, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. The skills he had learned from the gang had saved his life. But the incident also left him with a lingering sense of unease. He had managed to fend off the attacker, but the man's parting words haunted him. What if this was just the beginning? What if more threats lay ahead?