Hadrian Potter, Revenge (A Harry Potter Fanfiction)

Storm Of Home

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"Fearless child, broken boy, tell me what it's like to burn."

....

Hadrian awoke with a jolt, his mind sharp and racing, as if startled from a dream. He sat up, eyes darting across the empty train compartment, his senses heightened. "Somnolence gets you killed. Only the paranoid survive." The deep voice echoed in his mind; it was a lesson he a had learned long ago and had never forgotten.

Despite knowing he was safe, a lingering unease gripped him. His heart beat erratically, its ominous rhythm like the rising tempo of a war drum, as if preparing for some unseen final act. It was a warning, unnatural and foreboding, promising a frenzy of soundless screams in a burning world.

With a rough yawn, Hadrian ran a hand through his dark curls, pushing them away from his face. His hands stretched above his head, muscles tense, and the yawn turned into a guttural groan that echoed through the stillness of the compartment. He was alone, seated in one of the grey leather seats at the Slytherin end of the train. The finely stitched Slytherin crest adorned the headrest, and the thick velvet blinds beside the windows were a deep emerald green, swaying slightly as the train sped through the countryside.

Though Hadrian longed for sleep, his mind refused to cooperate, his thoughts circling like vultures. His childhood plagued his dreams, a constant source of torment. A headache crept in, a splintering pain at the top of his skull that felt like the ache of heartbreak, swirling through his head like a relentless fire. The oxygen seemed to burn out of his body, leaving him feeling hollow, a void where once there had been something whole. The pain ebbed and flowed, making him clench his jaw in frustration as he fought to contain it. The headaches were becoming worse; exhaustion had settled over him like a shroud, tinging his skin with a cold, grey pallor.

The train rattled on, bound for King's Cross station, signalling the beginning of summer. Hadrian's fourth year at Hogwarts had been anything but ordinary. Since the start of the year, he had been under intense scrutiny. Everywhere he went, students stared – curiosity, suspicion, and obsession swirling in their eyes. It wasn't just their stares that gnawed at him; fear crept in too. He could see it in the way they flinched when he made eye contact passing them in the corridors or entering a classroom.

But it wasn't just the students. 

No, Dumbledore had been watching him too. The old wizard's piercing blue eyes seemed to follow Hadrian's every movement, silently observing. Every time he entered a room, he could feel Dumbledore's gaze settle on him, cutting into his shoulder blades or drilling into the back of his head. Yet, when Hadrian turned to meet his gaze, the Headmaster's attention would always be elsewhere. 

It was unsettling.

Dumbledore had never shown any particular interest in him before. Not even when he had been sorted into Slytherin had the Headmaster so much as blinked at the mention of his name. Now, this sudden attention was unnerving. Why now? What had changed?

Rumours at Hogwarts spread faster than wildfire, and Hadrian was certain Dumbledore had heard something he didn't like. Perhaps word had got out about the parties he'd thrown in the dungeons, or the time he and a group of Slytherins had snuck out to the Forbidden Forest. Or, worse still, maybe the Headmaster had discovered what Hadrian had been hiding all along. He shook his head slightly.

No, there was no way Dumbledore could know.

But still, the old man's gaze lingered, and with it came a pervasive sense of distrust that seeped through the very walls of the castle. It was as if the air itself had turned against him, whispers of suspicion swirling through the long corridors, twisting up the staircases and into the stone classrooms.