When Blood Comes Calling

Some sleuthing and hunting

The awaited letter from Gringotts arrived, neatly folded and sealed with a vibrant emerald wax emblem that shimmered under the soft glow of the afternoon sun. The crisp parchment carried the familiar scent of aged paper, mingled with faint notes of parchment and ink.

Hadrian carefully peeled back the seal, the delicate rustle of the paper echoed like whispers in the still air, revealing the elegant script inside—each curve and flourish steeped in the ancient language of Goblins. Alongside the letter lay a package, wrapped in rich, dark green fabric that felt cool to the touch, the earthy, musty aroma hinting at the item he requested they looked for.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We have located the illegal dark item in the former Lestrange vault. It accompanies this letter and requires careful handling.

Please be advised that this information must remain confidential. We cannot afford to let outsiders know of our involvement in your endeavors.

Best,

Gringotts Wizarding Bank

Hadrian then folded the letter up and upon the seal touching the parchment again the parchment burst into flames leaving nothing but ash on his desk. "One down six more to go."

"Harry you won't believe what-" Damian started but stopped at seeing Hadrian seated at his desk and not in his bed. "Really you are supposed to be in bed."

A petulant sigh came from the teen "I'm fine, Ju-"

"Harry do I need to tie you down?" Marcus interrupted him as he entered the room as well.

"You'd need to have me unconscious if I were to be tied down."

Marcus waved him off as he plopped down watching amusingly as Damian pestered his brother about all the things he discovered since coming here.

"...So death quidditch I header about what-"

"Damian please pause its dinner time you have only been here one day." Hadrian interrupted the younger teen "and I can already see your excitement is venturing into overdrive," he added with a teasing smile, attempting to lighten the mood. The faint flicker of candlelight danced around the room, casting playful shadows that mirrored the siblings' banter.

Damian threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! But you better promise me we can dive into that death quidditch later! It's practically the latest gossip I hear in these halls." He flopped into a chair, his wide eyes sparkling with eagerness. The room felt alive with youthful energy, a welcome reprieve from the somber days that had passed.

Marcus chuckled, reaching for the warm loaf of bread at the center of the small dining table. "You may be able to charm your way through most things, but even your best arguments can't distract us from a good dinner. Harry needs his strength back, and I'd wager he can't immerse himself in secret society meetings on an empty stomach."

Hadrian rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the grin that curled on his lips. He glanced hesitantly out the window, where whispers of wind rustled through the trees. The sky was hazy with the promise of rain, yet the air felt charged, as if the storm was waiting to unfold—not just in the weather, but within their world, too. "Tell me about where you think the other horcrux is, Damian," he encouraged gently, the small flame of worry flickering within him soothed by the presence of family, even as thoughts of the dark item lingered at the back of his mind.

As Damon recounted the place he believes one of the horcrux in Hogwarts—a place here Voldemort aspired to teach.

"Salazar's old work room?" Hadrian echoed, leaning forward, his fingers laced together as if trying to grasp the gravity of the situation. "That could be dangerous, especially with everything that's happened."