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A/N: My first time on Ao3, my first time posting a Harry Potter Fanfic. DO NOT be gentle, or I will not get better. Constructive criticism (and Flames) are welcome.
"Speaking"
'Thinking'
Writing
Magic Writing
Escaping Reality
Hadrian huddled silently behind the old shed of four Private Drive. His chilled frame shook slightly from a cool breeze that passed through the yard, rustling leaves as it went. He pulled the ratty material of his oversized tee-shirt closer, attempting to fend off the seeping cold that always seemed to plague him.
A deep cold that leeched the luster from his messy black locks and the color from his sickly pale skin. It sunk beneath the scarred flesh of the especially small eleven year old, past his malnourished bones to somewhere deeper, more sacred. It was a cold that invaded his very soul, twisted his mind in darkness and his heart in self-hate.
The only evidence of this cold was the boy's ever present shivers and the black ice that hid behind ghostly emerald eyes. Eyes that flicked across the expanse of the house before him as his body lurched into action.
Quick, nimble feet carried swiftly along the perfectly cut grass surrounding the house. A small nervous hand reached behind a specific bush, weary eyes trailing up trailing up to a bathroom window searching for onlookers he knew not to exist. A small sigh of content was released as a shaking fist grasped the handle of a well-worn leather satchel.
Without hesitation it was slipped over his shoulder and a mad dash was made down the street. With a parchment letter clutched in hand and hidden dangers up ahead a single thought escaped into the tainted mind of Hadrian Evans.
'I'm free...'
Reason to Live
Freedom lasted to London, where a copper chased the poor boy, or attempted to, into the 'Leaky Cauldron'. To anyone else, it appeared as a poorly maintained pub, but Hadrian could see the magic that was present.
At some point he must have caught the attention of the scruffy bartender, for he called Hadrian over.
“Boy, yah lost.... 'er just lookin' fer yer folks?” the elderly man asked not unkindly. Hadrian simply held up his supply list in response, to which the man nodded. “'Aight, name's Tom. Ima take er to ther Alley. When yah go thur yer wanna head ter 'Gringotts' first. Ask 'em 'Goblins' ta test yah blood ta see if yer got some 'inheritance'. Tay can help yah.” The man's voice was gruff and he had a bit of a slum accent, though Hadrian couldn't place it. He did notice, however, that Tom had placed a certain emphasis on certain words.
With a nod of encouragement on Hadrian's behalf, Tom lead him out the back door and into an alley. He tapped a carved stick in a pattern on the bricks, entrancing Hadrian as magic moved from Tom's core, to the stick, to the bricks. The wall folded in on itself to reveal a busy shopping center that reminded Hadrian of what he expected of the 1800s.
A small smile flickered across his face as the cold eased somewhat. Magic. He loved.
Tom chuckled and pointed at a large marble and gold designed building at the end of the way. “'Yer best be headin' tha' away.” Hadrian nodded and headed off down the path he had indicated.
The streets were overly crowded, and by the time he finally reached the steps of the bank he was fighting off a panic attack. Damn his claustrophobia.
With a shuddering sigh, he regained his composure and headed inside. Hadrian had never seen so much wealth, and he felt a lump of fear form in his throat. Would he really have an inheritance? Was it going to be enough? Would he have to result in pick-pocketing to get by?
Hadrian mentally shook those thoughts from his mind as he approached a vendor. Goblins were stranger creatures, reminding him of hairless brownies or the bastard child of an elf and dwarf, though he believed they were closer to Nightmares. The vendor glared down at him with disdain, a slight snarl visible.
“Yes?” His tone, for it was a he, was harsh and cold. Ice stared back at him in the form of cold hard emeralds, disturbing the goblin. Hadrian pulled a note pad and pencil from his satchel, quickly scribbling before flashing the goblin his note:
The bartender, Tom, told me to take an 'Inheritance' test.
The Goblin's beady eyes flashed as he read the note, taking in the boy's appearance once more. “Your name.” His voice still retained its harsh quality; it was no longer cold.
Hadrian Evans. May I inquire yours?
“Griphook. Come Mister Evans, the inheritance tests are performed in the back.” Griphook signaled another goblin to take his place as he lead the young boy to a doorway off to the side. This lead down a hallway where Griphook stepped before an office labeled 'Master Gorgook'. A sharp knock brought the residence's attention.
“Enter.” A gruff and clipped voice called.
“Master Gorgook, Mister Evans requests an inheritance test.”
“And does Mister Evans know he must give his blood?” In response to the goblin's inquiry Hadrian held out his hand to display his willingness.
“Sir, Mister Evans does not speak.” At this, Gorgook finally glanced up from his paperwork to meet the outstretched hand and cold emerald orbs of the child before him.
“Very well. Mister Evans, please cut your palm over this bowl.” Hadrian didn't hesitate to accept the ornate dagger and calmly slit his palm open, allowing the crimson liquid to pour into the bowl. He must have cut too deep, for he found he couldn't move his index finger without causing a gushing sensation. Griphook's eyes widened from alarm as Hadrian stared blankly at his hand. The blood finally stopped flowing and Hadrian's magic began to repair the damage, a dull violet pulse of energy visible over the wound.
The Goblins wisely remained silent over what they had witnessed. Gorgook removed a vial of some iridescent blue potion from a drawer behind his desk, uncorking and pouring the potion into the bowl of blood. The mixing liquids settled on a deep violet before flashing green and remaining a dark black. A spelled parchment was brought forth, the blackened liquid poured onto it, and spelled once more as Gorgook began to chant.
The goblin language was foreign to Hadrian's ears, though strangely pleasing. Its harsh tenses reminded him of two rocks sliding together coupled with the garbling of babes. He allowed it to surround him, further enveloping him in a harsh warmth that filed the empty spaces left behind by the inner ice.
The potion was absorbed into the parchment and instead found itself spelling out words along the pushed the note toward him, reading it himself as well:
Hadrian James Potter
Son of James Charles Potter (deceased) and Lilly Ann Potter nee Evans (deceased)
Heir of The Ancient and Noble house of Potter (paternal),The Ancient and Noble house of Peverell (paternal),The Ancient and Noble house of Black (paternal), The Ancient and Noble house of Gray (maternal), The Founding House of Gryffindor (paternal), The Founding house of Slytherin (paternal and maternal), The Sacred House of La Fée (maternal)
Hadrian's eyes widened and flew up to meet the gaze of the goblin who was, quite frankly, staring at him. The notepad made another appearance as the young heir scrawled his note.
I take it I have money?
The innocence of the question and the unchanging gaze of the child caused the shocked goblins to stumble out of their stupor. Gorgook studied the parchment once more before allowing his eyes to flicker over the young heir. Hadrian appeared as any lower class child, at first glance. If one was to look deeper, however, they might find themselves startled at the result.
Gorgook could easily see the child's malnourished form, the still-healing bruises, the worn hand-me-downs, the weariness, the empty eyes, and the broken soul. Hadrian hid it remarkably well, especially for a child. He hardened his eyes to conceal the pain and suffering that was inflicted. He disguised himself behind a mask, and well made one at that. However, for someone who was trained in the art of reading intentions, the mask was no more effective than a window when gazing into the boy's soul.
“Yes, Heir Potter. I dare say when you take your lordships, you'll be the richest wizard alive.” Gorgook's voice had lost all coldness, all hostility, and all signs of aggression. He honestly wondered what had broken the boy so.
My Lordships? What do you mean? Hadrian scrawled back in reply, his answer confusing the goblins. Did this boy know nothing of the Wizarding world?
“You are the scion of the house of Potter, and therefore, as the last heir can take on your Lordship at any time. In order to command lordship over the houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor, you must reach the age of eleven, while the rest (barring La Fée) you may receive upon the age of seventeen. La Fée has its own rules, and so you will receive Lordship of thirteen as per tradition.” Gorgook chanted, waving his hand above a drawer, before pulling out a great number of files. He handed over one to the small boy across from him.
What is this? What is it for? Hadrian’s brows drew together in confusion, though there were no signs of distress. He easily accepted the file, noting the crest on the front. It displayed a lion inside a black triangle with a ring of gold being bisected by a silver line.
“The Potter file.” Gorgook opened the file and tapped the first page. “In order to accept your Lordships you'll need to sign here. It's simply a magical authorization.” Hadrian nodded his understanding and moved to sign the parchment when Gorgook stayed his hand. “This will also emancipate you, as a Lord you will not be subjected to the need for a guardian.” Hadrian nodded and marked the line with his signature.
The first time on the 'Inheritance Test' changed to instead read: Lord Hadrian Evans of the House of Potter.
Gorgook nodded once more and handed over two more files, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Hadrian once again signed the authorization, becoming a TriLord.
Now what? Hadrian inquired as the elder goblin magically produced a copy of each of the three files.
“Lord Evans, these are your copies of your vault (the ones you presently control). In them you will find the amount within each vault, as well as any artifacts, heirlooms, or deeds you own. Everything listed within those files belong to you unless otherwise stated.” The aged goblin reached behind his desk and pulled out a mid-sized velvet purple box. He brought the boys hand forward, along the box to sample the small lord's blood.
Hadrian opened the velvet keeper to see three rings; each adorned a crest for one of his lordships. He placed the Potter ring on his left hand's middle finger and watched as the other two rings were absorbed in his chosen one, their crests combining. The ring was made of tarnished gold, the crest taking the shape of a silver triangle. A lion roared in the triangle with an emerald snake overlapping it only to be bisected by a ruby sword.
A sharp intake was made audible as the young lord stared at the new Evan's crest. His eyes were wide as his magical core was forced to receive the three Lordship inheritances.
Hadrian's messy black hair grew to an inch passed his shoulders; the raven longs gained a slight curl as well. His ghostly emerald eyes received slitted pupils to match those of a great snake. Lastly, a single strip of crimson red invaded his bangs, as well as the thrice magical boost to the boy's core.
Lord Evans was born.