Hadrian Potter

The Beginning

Disclaimer: The basis of the characters and storyline are from JK Rowling's 'Harry Potter'. However, this is my version with additional characters and a different story. Enjoy.

.....

Fuck.

Hadrian shifted and landed heavily on the hard, wooden floor of the cluttered apartment, a low grunt escaping his throat as he tried to move, only to collapse again. The sharp, aching pain that shot through his body served as a brutal reminder of the previous night's excesses. His dark denim jeans clung uncomfortably to his legs, and his bare torso did little to shield him from the cold or the discomfort that pulsed through his muscles.

Slowly, he lifted his head, ignoring the dull throb in his skull, and glanced over at the bed. A sigh of relief passed his lips. Thank fuck, he thought. It was empty. The thought of having to deal with the awkwardness of asking someone to leave was unbearable, especially when they so often took it personally. Some got upset, others cried, and more often than not, the night's pleasures simply weren't worth the hassle that followed.

Flashes of the previous night surged through his mind, intensifying the pounding in his head. It had been months since Hadrian had ventured out into Muggle London for a drinking session, and he cursed himself for underestimating how wild a night with the street boys could become. He had been reckless, and he knew it.

The sound of the door creaking open drew his attention. Nev stood in the doorway, a smug grin plastered across his face. His posture was relaxed, yet there was an unmistakable swagger to his stance that made Hadrian's skin prickle with irritation. The smugness in Nev's expression said it all – he had warned Hadrian that he'd feel like death this morning, but Hadrian had stubbornly dismissed the idea at the time.

They had known each other since they were seven, ever since their paths had crossed in Diagon Alley. Back then, Hadrian had been just another child of the famous Potter family – the second son of James and Lily, two of the kindest and most passionate people one could ever meet. His childhood had been full of love and warmth, his life untouched by sorrow. But that all changed when he was four years old.

It was Voldemort who had torn his family apart, spurred on by a prophecy. His brother had been hailed as a hero that fateful night, while Hadrian had faded into the background, becoming all but invisible in his parents' eyes. Four years later, they had left him on the doorstep of the Dursleys, abandoning him to a life of neglect while they focused all their attention on his brother – the saviour of the wizarding world.

Nev's childhood had been similarly cruel. His parents had been murdered in an attack, leaving him to be raised by his harsh and unloving grandmother. She had constantly belittled him, comparing him to his father and subjecting him to reckless attempts to trigger his magical abilities. It was during a shopping trip to Diagon Alley that Nev finally had enough and ran away. Coincidentally, Hadrian had fled the Dursleys around the same time, and by chance, the two boys had found each other in the bustling magical marketplace. From that day forward, they had been inseparable, brothers in all but blood.

Their fortunes changed when they met a man named Zin, who had taken them in and given them food, shelter, and knowledge. Zin was an imposing figure, powerful and enigmatic. He never coddled them, but he taught them everything they needed to survive. By the age of eleven, they had mastered advanced magic, Muggle defense techniques, and Occlumency, the art of shielding one's mind. Zin had been their protector, their mentor, and, when necessary, their enforcer. He had kept them alive in the dangerous streets of Knockturn Alley.

As they grew older, Hadrian and Nev had forged their path, setting up a smuggling operation from a shabby flat in Knockturn Alley. They had also found a certain satisfaction in hunting those who preyed on the weak – rogue Death Eaters, werewolves, and vampires who roamed the shadows looking for easy victims. Their exploits had earned them the fearsome moniker of the "Mortem Brothers," a name whispered with both respect and dread by both sides of the magical world.

"Hades," Nev drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe, his tall, muscular frame relaxed, though his eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Shut the fuck up," Hadrian muttered, casting an exaggerated glare in his direction.

Nev chuckled, his chest rumbling with the sound. He was always there for Hadrian, even when Hadrian was at his worst. Their bond ran deeper than most people could understand.

"Get up," Nev said, his tone shifting as his expression grew serious. "Kit told me Death Eaters have been spotted nearby, looking for trouble."

Hadrian groaned but forced himself to his feet, stretching his aching muscles. Like Nev, he was tall, with a lean, muscular frame. His messy black hair sat in disarray atop his head, and his striking green eyes – the same shade as the killing curse – had a sharpness that drew people in, though he often wished they wouldn't. 

After a quick shower, he dressed in his usual attire: black jeans, a black t-shirt, boots with a concealed dagger, and his worn leather jacket.

As they left the apartment, Nev couldn't help but throw one last jab. "You look like shit."

"Fuck off," Hadrian replied, slipping on a pair of sunglasses to shield his sensitive eyes from the harsh morning light. The sun seemed almost mocking in its brightness, as though it knew just how hungover he was.

Their banter was interrupted by a piercing scream. Instinct kicked in, and both men sprinted towards the sound. As they rounded a corner, they found Fenrir Greyback, the notorious werewolf, gripping a terrified young boy by the scruff of his neck. The boy's tear-streaked face twisted in fear as Greyback's yellowed grin widened at the sight of Hadrian and Nev approaching.

"Ah, the Mortem Brothers," Greyback sneered, dropping the boy unceremoniously to the ground. He stalked towards them, his predatory instincts clear in his every movement. "Here to kill me, are you?"

Hadrian exchanged a glance with Nev, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "What do you reckon? Should we kill the dickhead?"

Nev smirked. "Are you sure you're up for it, mate? You're hungover, after all."

Hadrian cracked his knuckles, the familiar rush of adrenaline already coursing through his veins. "Hell fucking yeah." 

They bumped fists, ready for the fight that was sure to follow.