HARRY POTTER STORY: Lions in snake den

Part 26

Hadrian stood in the graveyard, the chilling atmosphere wrapping around him like a vice. He felt the weight of the Triwizard Cup in his hand, but his thoughts were racing, struggling to comprehend what had just transpired. He had defeated Krum, but at what cost? The oppressive silence was suffocating, and he instinctively turned to survey his surroundings, seeking any sign of danger. As he scanned the dimly lit graveyard, his gaze landed on a weathered headstone, half-hidden in the underbrush. The name etched into the stone sent a shock through him: Tom Riddle Sr. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. This was not just any graveyard; this was the final resting place of the man who had once been Voldemort's father. The implications of being in such a place gnawed at him. What was happening? What had he stumbled into? Before he could process the significance of the grave, he felt a sudden, ominous presence behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he instinctively spun around, wand at the ready. Just then, a voice rang out, smooth and cold.

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell struck Hadrian with the force of a tidal wave. His wand flew from his grasp, clattering against the stones nearby. He stumbled back, disoriented, and slammed against a stone angle—a grave marker jutting out from the ground, sharp and unforgiving. "Wha—who are you?" Hadrian demanded, adrenaline coursing through him as he struggled against the stone, trying to regain his footing. Emerging from the shadows was Peter Pettigrew, the betrayer who had sold out his friends, and Hadrian's eyes narrowed with anger and disbelief. The rat-like figure sneered, a glint of malevolence in his eyes. "Oh, Hadrian," he crooned, his voice laced with mockery. "You've wandered into quite the predicament, haven't you? Alone in a graveyard, surrounded by death, and yet you thought you could defeat the others and walk away unscathed?"

Hadrian felt the sharp stone digging into his back, the pressure pinning him against it. "You won't get away with this, Pettigrew!" he growled, channeling all his frustration and anger. "What do you want from me?"
Pettigrew took a step closer, reveling in Hadrian's predicament. "You've got something that belongs to my master. That little trophy of yours is more than just a prize, and we can't have you running around with it, can we?" Hadrian's heart raced as the reality of the situation sank in. "Where is Voldemort?" he spat, refusing to show fear. He had to keep his wits about him, even trapped against the grave marker.
Pettigrew chuckled darkly, his confidence radiating as he circled Hadrian like a predator. "You'll find out soon enough. But for now, it's time to take back what you've stolen from us." In that moment, Hadrian's mind raced with options. He had to think quickly. Though he was pinned, he still had his own magic to wield, and he wouldn't allow Pettigrew to gloat over him. He glanced around, searching for something—anything—that could help him escape.
Pettigrew, sensing his distraction, lunged forward. "Stay still!" he hissed, his own wand raised, ready to cast another spell.
With a surge of determination, Hadrian focused all his energy inward. "No! You won't win!" he shouted, channeling the last remnants of his magic. In a desperate move, he recalled the training he had undergone, the way he had learned to twist spells and use his surroundings to his advantage.
"Serpensortia!" he shouted, summoning the serpent once more, its powerful form coiling around him and slithering toward Pettigrew. The serpent struck with fierce speed, catching the traitor off guard.

"Get back!" Pettigrew screamed, stumbling away from Hadrian. The distraction was just enough to give Hadrian the moment he needed. Summoning his remaining strength, he pushed off the stone angle, breaking free from the pinning pressure. He lunged for his wand, grabbing it just as Pettigrew regained his footing and aimed another spell at him. "Stupefy!" Pettigrew shouted, but Hadrian was ready this time. "Protego!" he countered, the shield spell flaring to life just in time to deflect the spell. The impact resonated through him, but he pressed forward, refusing to back down.

"I won't let you take anything from me!" Hadrian roared, determination fueling his every move. He retaliated with a powerful "Expelliarmus!" aimed at Pettigrew, but it was not just a spell—it was a declaration of his will. The spell struck true, knocking Pettigrew's wand from his hand, sending it spiraling into the shadows. Hadrian seized the moment, ready to put an end to this confrontation. But even as he prepared to attack, Hadrian felt the ground tremble beneath him. A dark energy surged through the graveyard, filling the air with an unsettling resonance. Something was awakening, and Hadrian's instincts screamed at him to leave. In that split second, he made a choice. "I won't be your pawn!" he shouted, turning away from Pettigrew. He sprinted toward the edge of the graveyard, heart pounding, hoping to escape whatever malevolent force was stirring.