The hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley was a distant memory as Hadrian stood on the street corner, his thoughts racing back to the days before he'd known anything of Hogwarts or magic. The neon lights of the Knight Bus flashed as it pulled up to his side, its doors creaking open with a hiss. Hadrian nodded at the conductor, his hand slipping into his pocket to retrieve a few Galleons.
"Where to, young master?" the conductor asked, his accent thick and weathered."East End," Hadrian replied, his voice steady. "Take me to the corner of Pritchard Street and Smithson Alley."
The conductor raised an eyebrow but took the coins with a nod, gesturing for Hadrian to take a seat. The bus jolted forward, zipping through the narrow streets of London, barely missing lampposts and pedestrians alike.
Hadrian's heart thudded with anticipation as they sped through the night, his thoughts drifting to the gang that had been his family for so many years.
The streets grew darker, less populated, as the bus journeyed eastward. The buildings were more rundown here, with cracked windows and faded signs. This was the part of the city where the forgotten lived—the rough and the rugged. Hadrian felt a pang of nostalgia as they neared his old stomping grounds. The driver announced his stop, and Hadrian stepped off the bus, feeling the familiar crunch of gravel beneath his feet.
Pritchard Street had changed little since he had last walked it. The same boarded-up windows, the same graffiti-tagged walls, the same eerie quiet. Yet, it was all so familiar to him. His feet carried him forward without hesitation, each step a practiced memory. He had walked this path so many times as a child that it was ingrained in his muscles. He moved like a shadow through the alleyways, the darkness his companion, until he reached the hidden entrance to the gang's hideout.
The door was concealed behind a stack of rotting crates, its metal frame rusted and worn. Hadrian pushed it open, the hinges groaning in protest. He stepped inside, his senses immediately assaulted by the familiar scent of musty wood and the faint aroma of cigarettes. He paused for a moment, letting the memories flood back.
"Oi, who's there?" a rough voice called out from the shadows.Hadrian stepped into the dim light, his face hidden by the hood of his cloak. "It's me."
There was a moment of silence, followed by the sound of shuffling feet and whispered conversations. Then, the room erupted in gasps and laughter as the gang members realized who had walked through their door.
"Blimey, Hadrian? Is that you?" Rex's voice boomed, his tone filled with disbelief.Hadrian pulled back his hood, revealing a face that had matured but was still unmistakably familiar. The gang stared at him, their expressions a mix of shock and joy.
"Cor, look at 'im!" Max exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion. "He's grown up, ain't he?"Rex, the de facto leader of the gang, stepped forward, his usual stoic expression breaking into a wide grin. "Bloody hell, it really is you! Thought we'd lost ya to them posh wizards for good."
Before Hadrian could respond, Rex pulled him into a rough embrace, nearly lifting him off the ground. The other members crowded around, each taking turns ruffling his hair, patting him on the back, and offering their own greetings. It was overwhelming, but in the best possible way."Get off, ya big lummoxes," Hadrian laughed, though he couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through his chest. He was home, in a way he hadn't felt at Hogwarts.
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The Dark Slytherin (Trilogy)
FanfictionWhat if Harry Potter was never proclaimed as the Boy-Who-Lived. Instead, his brother Julian was said to have defeated Voldemort in the night of Samhain. Hadrian, the older brother, is ignored and alone. But, without the voices of others, he hears hi...
