The attic was a sanctuary, a place where no one ventured, not Sirius, not Tonks—no one but Hadrian. Dust motes floated in the dim light that filtered through a small, grimy window, casting the place in a perpetual twilight. It was quiet, far away from the bustle and laughter of Grimmauld Place, a haven of solitude that suited him well. He had always been alone; his childhood with the Dursleys had ensured that. He knew the cold comfort of solitude, had grown accustomed to the silence that only his thoughts could penetrate.
Seated on an old, worn-out trunk, Hadrian opened the journal he had kept hidden for so long, its pages filled with the secrets of a language few could understand. The leather-bound cover was cracked with age, the corners frayed, but the weight of its knowledge was palpable. With a deep breath, he opened it, the parchment crackling softly under his fingers.
The first page was blank, save for a single line that seemed to shimmer as he stared at it. He could read the words, though they weren't written in English, or any language he had ever studied at Hogwarts-
"If you can read this, you are a speaker of the Noble Tongue and know a language that others know not."
The realization hit him like a cold wave.
Parseltongue. The Noble Tongue. A language as ancient as magic itself, spoken by those who wielded a power that others feared and misunderstood. He could speak it, understand it, and now, he would learn its secrets.
He turned the page, and the true contents of the journal revealed themselves. The words seemed to writhe and twist on the page, as though alive, whispering to him in soft, sibilant tones. The next entry spoke of power—dark, unyielding power that came not from light or love, but from the shadows that lurked within every soul.
Magic that could bend minds, break hearts, and steal the very essence of life.
Hadrian's pulse quickened as he read further, the thrill of forbidden knowledge coursing through him. Here, in this forgotten journal, lay spells of such dark potency that they had been erased from history, hidden away by those who feared what they could do.
-The Spells of the Noble Tongue-
He began to read the first spell, the ink on the page glowing faintly as if infused with the darkness it described.
**Mors Umbrarum** - **Incantation:** Mors Umbrarum - **Wand Movement:** A downward slash followed by a thrust towards the target, mimicking the scythe of Death. - **Purpose:** Kills and repels Dementors by attacking their very essence, severing their connection to the mortal plane. - **Creator:** Arcturus Slytherin, an ancient and dark wizard who specialized in spells against dark creatures.
Now that would be a useful spell, though he had never tried a Patronus, he doubted he would be able to ever cast one, whenever he thought of the gang and his happy times, the memories of the Dursleys and Vernon's metal buckle came floating in his mind.
Hadrian could feel his heart beating faster as he read on. The next page detailed another spell, equally as dark and potent.
**Serpens Veneficium** - **Incantation:** Serpens Veneficium - **Wand Movement:** A twisting motion mimicking a snake's slither. - **Purpose:** Summons a poisonous serpent to attack the target. - **Creator:** Salazar Slytherin, founder of Slytherin House, known for his affinity with serpents. - **Usage:** Used primarily by dark wizards for assassination or protection against enemies.
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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...
