Hadrian Riddle(His Son)

The Gathering Shadows

Chapter Four

Two years earlier, when Hadrian was just six years old, the world was still a place of half-formed shadows and growing ambition. The days were longer, filled with the innocent curiosity of a boy not yet fully aware of the darkness that would soon envelop him. But even then, the seeds of his future were being carefully planted by his father, Tom Riddle, who was always a few steps ahead, always calculating, always shaping the destiny of his only son.

It was an evening in late autumn when Tom decided it was time for Hadrian to be introduced to the broader circle of those who served the dark cause. The air was crisp with the bite of the coming winter, and the grounds of the Riddle Manor were covered in a thin veil of mist that clung to the earth like a shroud. Inside, however, the atmosphere was charged with something far more intense.

Tom had been preparing Hadrian for this moment, teaching him the importance of presence, of command, and of silence. The young boy had taken to these lessons with an eagerness that pleased his father. Now, Tom would see how Hadrian fared among those who would one day serve him as they served Voldemort.

The grand hall of the manor was dimly lit by floating candles that cast long, flickering shadows on the stone walls. The room was vast, its ceiling lost in darkness, and filled with figures cloaked in black, their faces hidden by hoods. These were the Death Eaters, the most loyal followers of the Dark Lord, and tonight, they had been summoned for a special occasion.

Hadrian stood by his father's side, dressed in black robes that matched those of the Death Eaters. The boy's eyes, bright with intelligence, scanned the room, noting the way the adults moved, the subtle undercurrents of fear and respect that pulsed through the gathering. His small hand gripped the edge of his father's robes, not out of fear, but out of a desire to feel connected to the man who was his guide, his mentor, and his protector.

Tom placed a reassuring hand on Hadrian's shoulder, his voice a whisper only the boy could hear. "Remember what I've taught you, Hadrian. You are my son, and that means you are to be respected. Show them the strength that is your birthright."

Hadrian nodded, his expression serious beyond his years. He wasn't nervous, but he understood the gravity of the moment. This was his first introduction to the wider world that existed beyond the manor, the world his father had built with power and fear.

Tom straightened, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. The Death Eaters fell silent as their master stepped forward, the only sound in the hall the soft rustle of his robes.

"Loyal followers," Voldemort began, his voice smooth and resonant, filling the space with ease. "Tonight, you meet the future. Tonight, you meet the one who will carry on the legacy we have all fought so hard to create."

He gestured for Hadrian to step forward, and the boy did so without hesitation. The eyes of every Death Eater in the room were now on him, but Hadrian didn't flinch. He had been taught to stand tall, to show no fear, and he did exactly that.

"This is Hadrian," Voldemort continued, his hand still resting on his son's shoulder, "my heir and your future leader. He is young, but he is already learning the ways of power, the ways of darkness. One day, he will stand where I stand, and you will follow him as you have followed me."

The Death Eaters bowed their heads in unison, a gesture of acknowledgment and submission. Hadrian watched them, his sharp mind processing the display of loyalty, understanding the significance of it. These were powerful wizards and witches, each capable of great things, yet here they were, bending to his father's will—and, by extension, to his own.

As Voldemort continued to speak, introducing Hadrian formally to his followers, the boy's attention was drawn to a figure standing towards the back of the hall. A boy, only a little older than Hadrian himself, with pale blond hair and a sharp, aristocratic face that was unmistakably Malfoy. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the two boys simply stared at each other, curiosity mingled with something unspoken passing between them.

After the formalities concluded, Tom dismissed the Death Eaters, who began to disperse, though many lingered, casting glances at Hadrian as they spoke in hushed tones. It was then that Lucius Malfoy approached, his son following closely behind.

"Lord Voldemort," Lucius said with a respectful bow. "It is an honor to meet your heir. I trust young Hadrian is as formidable as his father."

Tom smiled, though it was a cold, calculated expression. "He will be, Lucius. And I believe he and your son may have much to learn from each other."

Lucius nodded, then turned to Draco. "Draco, this is Hadrian. You two are close in age, and I expect you will become well acquainted."

Draco took a step forward, his demeanor polished but with an underlying arrogance that spoke of his upbringing. He extended his hand, and Hadrian took it, the two boys shaking hands with the seriousness of adults.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Draco said, though there was a hint of challenge in his voice, as if testing the waters.

Hadrian responded in kind, his voice steady and calm. "Likewise. I've heard a lot about you."

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly, but his expression remained composed. "I imagine you have. My father speaks highly of your family."

"And mine of yours," Hadrian replied, his tone polite yet distant, echoing the formalities he had been taught.

Tom observed the exchange with interest. He had seen the potential in Draco, recognized the boy's ambition and desire for power, but Hadrian—his Hadrian—was a different breed altogether. While Draco was driven by the expectations of his lineage, Hadrian was driven by something deeper, darker—a pure, unyielding determination to fulfill the destiny his father had set before him.

As the evening wore on, the manor gradually emptied of its guests, leaving only the Malfoys and the Riddles. The two boys spent the remainder of the night in a private parlor, under the watchful eyes of their fathers, engaged in conversation that belied their years.

Hadrian learned that Draco, like himself, was being groomed for greatness, but it was clear that their paths, while similar, were not the same. Draco sought power, but Hadrian was power, a force already in the making. The difference was subtle, but it was there, and both boys seemed to sense it.

When the time came for the Malfoys to leave, Draco and Hadrian exchanged a final look—an understanding, perhaps, that their futures were intertwined in ways they could not yet fully comprehend.

As the door closed behind their guests, Tom knelt beside Hadrian, his voice soft but firm. "What did you think of young Draco?"

Hadrian considered his words carefully before replying. "He is clever and ambitious, but he has not yet embraced what it truly means to be powerful. He still has...doubts."

Tom smiled, the expression filled with pride. "You are right, my son. Draco is strong, but he lacks the clarity you possess. You must always remember that power is not just about what you can do, but about who you are willing to become. You are destined for greatness, Hadrian, and nothing—no one—will stand in your way."

Hadrian looked up at his father, his eyes filled with a certainty that was unsettling in one so young. "I understand, Father. I won't let you down."

Tom's hand rested on his son's cheek, a rare gesture of affection. "I know you won't. You are my greatest creation, Hadrian. And one day, the world will bow before you as they do before me."

Hadrian nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. The night had been a success, a stepping stone on the path he was destined to walk. As he followed his father out of the parlor and back into the heart of the manor, Hadrian felt a deep, unshakable confidence settle within him.

He had met the Death Eaters, seen their power, felt their respect. He had met Draco Malfoy, a boy like himself in many ways, but different where it mattered most. Hadrian knew who he was, knew what he was meant to be.

And as the darkness of the manor swallowed them, father and son, Hadrian understood that he was not just being prepared for a role—he was the role. The future was his, and with his father by his side, there was nothing he couldn't achieve.

What should be the ship?
-Drarry?
-Luna xHarry?

Xoxo Your writer...