Chapter 22: Chapter 21 Quirrell and Quidditch
Notes:
Okay, I lied and couldn't resist uploading this chapter when I finished it early. Because today had a double update, there probably won't be an update tomorrow (for reals this time my lovelies) and would you guys prefer longer chapters less frequently or slightly shorter chapters more frequently? I don't know how much it would change the story either way or my updating schedule, but I am curious.
Don't forget to take breaks, drink some water, and remember that this fic will still be here in the morning if you are trying to read it all in one night.
Chapter Text
It was mid-October by the time Hadrian thought that he should have told Andromeda and Ted about the Cerberus. He realized that Dora must not have told her parents about his run-in with the beast when he got no mention of it in his weekly update from them about the trial proceedings that they were arranging and the general goings on in their lives, and by that point, it seems almost embarrassingly late to mention. Besides, it's not like having it there was illegal, just incredibly idiotic and dangerous, and since the headmaster warned them not to go there, declaring it off-limits, no laws were broken having such a deadly creature near students.
Hadrian had checked.
His friends had told their parents and were all told strictly that under no circumstances were they to return to that corridor. Susan Bones had brought it up with her aunt, Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, when Hadrian had subtly let slip what was in the third-floor corridor, but the words of first-years weren't enough evidence to allow the Aurors of the DMLE access to the grounds of Hogwarts.
Hadrian had suggested trying to get a picture of the beast to use as evidence and was promptly forced to sit through an intervention by his friends about the importance of safety and self-preservation.
"I'm not suggesting that one of us goes in there alone. What I was going to say was that we figure out how to handle the beast, and then, while it is out of commission, we take a photo. The magical world really doesn't make any sense, though," he complained. "Why is it that when we see a 5X class creature and try to report it, our eyewitness testimony isn't enough, but we still aren't allowed to have aurors on the grounds to investigate our claims."
"It's just how things work here," Theo told him, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We are kids and going to school in a magical castle. How can they trust that it wasn't just an older student playing a prank or us trying to prank the DMLE? It sucks, but it is what it is."
"That is literally so fucking stupid," Hadrian responded.
Theo clapped him on the shoulder. "Yes, it is," he sighed. "Yes, it is."
It was only then that Daphne had pointed out that the Cerberus was standing on something.
"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she said teasingly. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"
"The floor?" Hadrian suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads." Daphne sighed.
"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."
The dog was guarding something... What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide – except perhaps Hogwarts.
It looked as though Hadrian had found out exactly what Hagrid had been sent by Dumbledore to collect from Gringotts. When he mentioned it to his friends, they gave him another lecture.
He spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.
"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Theo.
"Or both," said Hadrian with a covetous grin.
But all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was small enough to fit in one of Hagrid's pockets and worth risking the goblins' wrath to break into Gringotts.
Neither Daphne nor Neville was interested in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville was interested in was never going near the dog again.
It was during his next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson that Hadrian was positive that Quirrell was the source of pain in his scar. He was not sure how or why, but the only times his scar hurt were during the welcome feast, which Quirrell was present at, and in his class.
Maybe he is covered in dark magic that I can't sense and that is affecting the soul piece in my scar, Hadrian wondered as he rubbed his forehead and cheek absentmindedly, hoping the pain would stop. Suddenly, it did, and he looked up to see Professor Quirrell staring at him intently.
"Is there so-so-something wrong wi-with my lesson-son-son, Mr. Potter?" he asked, eyes narrowed. Before Hadrian could say anything, Quirrell continued. "Stay after cl-class, Potter."
Biting his tongue, Hadrian dipped his head in acquiescence, ignoring the concerned looks from his friends and instead focusing on writing down the differences between hexes, curses, and jinxes.
When the bell rang to dismiss class, Hadrian slowly moved to pack up his things, waving off his friends and telling them to meet for their study group in the library. Remaining in his seat, he looked up at the professor when he wordlessly waved his wand to close the door to the classroom after the last student had left.
"Mr. Potter, it seems that my lesson was not to your satisfaction and was boring you," he said, leaning against the desk at the front of the room. Hadrian shook his head, but Quirrell continued. "Why don't you tell me what the differences are between the three types of dark charms, then? Since my lesson was boring to you, you must already know the material."
Hadrian internally rolled his eyes but took a breath and began to explain anyway. "As you said, curses, hexes, and jinxes are three types of dark charms. They are broken up into these three categories by the severity of their effects. Curses are the most severe; a curse is something crafted in malice and often causes near-incurable or completely irreversible damage, and they are often the most difficult to cast. Hexes are more intermediate; they can cause harm and are ongoing, but are often simply reversed to undo their effects. And jinxes are often somewhat benign and require eye contact, although that does not mean that they are not harmful."
"Very good," the professor praised, giving Hadrian a smile. "I've been meaning to talk to you. With the anniversary of the fall of the dark lord, how are you feeling?" he asked, leaning forward.
Hadrian looked down at his desk and fingered the strap of his bookbag. "I'm not sure. For the longest time, I didn't even know when my parents died, much less why." He looked up at Quirrell. "I am tired of all of the staring, and I hate that everybody is going to be celebrating on the day that I lost everything. They worship me for vanquishing a man who made me an orphan, sir. How am I supposed to feel?"
Quirrell leaned back and considered the boy in front of him. "From what I have learned in my many years of life, things are rarely so contrite as to be categorized as good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to see it."
Hadrian considered his words for a moment before shaking his head.
"I am afraid that I am going to have to disagree with you, sir. I think that you are right that people and actions are rarely able to be neatly sorted into labeled boxes like good and evil – a muggle quote is that there is no black and white, only shades of grey – but I don't agree that there is only power and those too weak to see it. Weak people recognize power all of the time, they often place more importance and reverence on it than other powerful people. Take me as an example; I am probably one of the more magically powerful students in my year, but I don't really care about that. Someone with less power, like Malfoy, is obsessed with power and getting more of it. Power is important and as a quintessential Slytherin, I won't deny that I want more of it, but the types of power make a difference, and I think that is where our philosophies diverge," Hadrian said, looking the man in the eyes, ignoring the slight pain in his scar when he did.
"You believe that love is the strongest power of all?" Quirrell asked, a light sneer developing on his face. Hadrian shrugged indifferently.
"I think that love is an incredibly powerful motivator. It is what convinced my mum to stand up to Voldemort and beg for my life, which likely played a part in why I am standing here today, and he is not." Quirrell flinched. "I don't believe in fairytales, or that love can conquer all – after all, my mum loved me and she's dead – but I do believe that love is its own form of power and should not be treated lightly. As I said, I think that you believe that power is power and that there are no types or differences, whereas I believe that there are. Love, respect, fear, those feelings are all motivators for power, but it is up to the individual whether those feelings will cause them to hand over their own power to another person or keep it for themselves. What I have learned is that power seeks power, but that power also corrupts. It all depends on whether or not you consider the risk of obtaining power to be worth it."
"You've given me a lot to consider," Quirrell said, waving him towards the door. "You are dismissed. Mr. Potter," he called out when Hadrian made it to the door and turned back. "Do make sure to pay attention in my lessons, it wouldn't do for the savior of the wizarding world to be slacking off in Defense Against the Dark Arts, you never know who is out to get you."
Hadrian dipped his head with a flat smile and walked out the door, only noticing when he was halfway to the library that Quirrell hadn't stuttered once.
"I'm just saying, it was odd," Hadrian told his friends in the library after leaving Quirrell's classroom.
"Maybe he just gets nervous, so he does better in a one-on-one setting," Susan suggested pragmatically. Hadrian shook his head.
"I don't think that was it. He was acting like a completely different person."
"Well," Hannah sighed. "Not much you can do about it now. Could you help me with my potions essay? I keep mixing up moonseed and moonstone." Hadrian let out a small huff of amusement at the small girl, pushing the Quirrell issue from his mind as he moved over to her side of the table between Neville and Hermione, and got to work.
The Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors spend the next hour or two in the library helping each other and getting to know each other. They learned that while Hannah loved all animals, she was scared of spiders, though she insisted she still loved them; she just wanted to love them from a distance.
Susan was a connoisseur of all things chocolate and had one of the largest chocolate frog collections anyone in their group had ever seen. Hermione, while being incredibly proud of her doctor parents, did not want to follow in their footsteps to become a dentist, but would rather do something in the government to help people like her have equal standing.
"I am treated as a second-class citizen in both worlds for things outside of my control, and I wouldn't change who my parents are and I love the color of my skin, so I will simply change the system from the inside out," she said, determined, planting a hand on the table semi-loudly in the quiet library.
"It will be hard," Hadrian told her. "Because while they won't look down on you for the color of your skin here-"
"No, they just look down on my blood," she muttered, and Hadrian nodded.
"Exactly. But I know you, Hermione Granger and you have enough courage and ambition to fill all of Slytherin and Gryffindor House, and I will be there to help you however I can," he promised, getting a blinding white grin in return.
Neville, wanting to make his grandmother proud, was determined to be an auror. Not wanting to discourage his godbrother, Hadrian promised to help him too, and the first step was getting him a new wand. Hadrian had been watching how he struggled in their shared classes, often the last to get a spell right, and he could sense how the wand was fighting against Neville's magic.
"It's my dad's," the quiet boy admitted softly in the library. The table filled with gasps.
"Oh, Neville," Hannah said, placing a hand on his arm.
"Mate, no wonder you are having trouble," Blaise said.
Hadrian looked at his godbrother seriously. "Neville, you need to write to your grandmother and get your own wand. You will never be able to reach your full potential if you are using an ill-suited wand. I know you want to honor your parents, but there are other ways of doing that that don't stunt your growth."
Hermione spoke up. "What if we went to Professor McGonagall together?" She suggested. "She could write to your grandmother and tell her how hard you have been trying in classes, and how well you have been doing in classes that don't use a wand like in herbology and potions," and Neville was surprisingly good at potions when he wasn't nervous about Snape lurking over his shoulder.
"That way you don't have to suggest it." The blond looked up at Hermione like she was an angel, and she did kind of look it with her halo of curls.
"You'd do that for me?" he asked, awestruck.
"Anything for a friend," she said determinedly.
Looking around at his odd group of friends, he subtly signaled to the Slytherins that it was time for him to go. Making their excuses, they left their friends in the library, while Hadrian changed and made his way down to the pitch.
"You're late," was the first thing Marcus Flint said to him when he walked out onto the grassy field.
"No, I'm not. I'm fifteen minutes early." Flint grinned.
"Should have been twenty." Hadrian rolled his eyes.
"Oh, please, you wouldn't have been happy regardless of what time I showed up." Flint grinned even more sharply.
"You catch on quick, firstie. You will find I am hard to please and easy to disappoint; don't disappoint me."
Hadrian looked around, he had never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in the stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the ends. Hadrian was reminded of the little plastic sticks muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.
Flint pointedly looked at the two brooms lying on the ground. "Yours is the one on the left." Hadrian glanced down and his brows raised without his permission. That was a Nimbus Two Thousand, it was sleek and shiny and had its name written in gold lettering on the handle. Hadrian looked questioningly at Flint and smirked when the captain nodded.
Hadrian mounted the broom and kicked off of the ground. What a feeling – he swooped in and out of the goalposts and then flew up and down the field.
"Hey, Potter! Come down," a voice called out.
Hadrian looked down and saw Terrence Higgs walking onto the field with a chest held under his arm. Hadrian landed next to him, and the rest of the team walked up behind him.
"You're early," Warrington said. "Good job."
Hadrian shot Flint a smirk, which the captain ignored.
"You're good," Higgs said, dropping the chest. Hadrian lifted his head in acknowledgment.
"I see what Snape saw in you," Flint said. "You really are a natural. I'm just going to be teaching you the rules this evening, and you will be watching the rest of the practice. You will then be joining us for practice three nights a week."
He opened the crate. Inside, there were four different-sized balls.
"Right," said Flint. "Now, quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers. That is me, Warrington, and Montague." The other two chasers raised their hands.
"Three chasers," Hadrian repeated dutifully. Flint pulled out a red ball the size of a soccer ball.
"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Flint. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try to get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"
"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Hadrian recited. "So – that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"
"What's basketball?" said Warrington curiously.
"Never mind," said Hadrian quickly, not prepared to get into explanations of muggle sports at this point in time.
"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper – Miles Bletchley is the Keeper for Slytherin. He has to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."
"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Hadrian, who was determined to remember it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So, what are they for?" He pointed at the three balls left inside the box.
"I'll show you now," said Flint with a roguish grin. "Take this."
He handed Hadrian a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.
"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," He told Hadrian. "These two are the Bludgers."
He showed Hadrian two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Hadrian noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.
"Stand back," Montague warned Hadrian. Flint bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.
At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Hadrain's face. Hadrian swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air – it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Flint, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.
"See?" Flint panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team – Bole and Pucey are ours – it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So – think you've got all that?"
"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goalposts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Hadrian reeled off.
"Very good," said Warrington, while Flint grunted in approval.
"Er – have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Hadrian asked, hoping he sounded offhand.
"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws, but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers –"
"- unless they crack my head open."
"Don't worry, Pucey and Bole are more than a match for the Bludgers – I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."
"Hey!" They cried.
Flint reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.
"This," said Flint, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and the Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages – I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep." Shrugging, he turned to look at Hadrian.
"Well, that's it – any questions?"
Hadrian shook his head. He understood what he had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.
"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Flint, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "It's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these." He held up a bag of golf balls with a near-malicious grin. Hadrian swallowed the nerves that cropped up with that smile.
A few minutes later, he and Hadrian were up in the air, with Flint throwing the balls in random directions with Hadrian diving after them as fast as he could. He caught every ball. Flint then decided to up the ante by getting the rest of the team to take turns hitting balls in random directions with the beater's bats. Hadrian caught every one of the balls that time, too, despite a few close calls, and Flint was delighted.
He decided that Terrence Higgs and Hadrian should have a seeker competition, so he sent both of them up in the air and counted how many of the golf balls each boy could catch. It was close, but ultimately, Hadrian caught every ball again, and Higgs missed one.
With a proud smile, Higgs said that he would be stepping down and would play as the reserve seeker, ruffling Hadrian's hair. "Besides," he said when Hadrian went to protest, "This will give me time to study for my NEWTs.
Hadrian stayed to watch the rest of the practice with Higgs giving him running commentary the entire time, giving Hadrian tips and tricks to play with the team better.
"The Quidditch Cup has our name on it again this year," Higgs said. "Snape'll be expecting that trophy in his office again, and I'd hate to lose during my last year," he told Hadrian, ruffling his hair again and laughing when the younger boy groaned.
Between all of his homework and three nights of quidditch practice a week, Hadrian was not at all surprised when the end of October approached, and it was time to put several of his plans into action.
Sunday, October 29, 1991
Dear Andromeda and Ted,
I have much to tell you that I have neglected to mention in my last few letters. Not on purpose, but more due to the fact that I am unused to having people who care about me and want me to communicate things with them. Daphne and Susan both tell me that I need to work on that. Speaking of Susan, how are things going with her aunt? Are we ready to initiate the next phase?
Dumbledore has mostly ignored me for the time being, or at least, he hasn't requested an additional private meeting with me. He has been keeping a Cerberus on the third-floor corridor, don't ask how I know that. Technically, it is not illegal or considered endangering children – which I totally believe that it should be – but is there any way that we can get it out of the school?
He told us at the opening feast that no one who wishes to die a painful death should go near that corridor, to a bunch of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws! The door was unlocked with a simple first-year spell – kind of – either way, it was entirely too easy for me to get in there and I would not at all be surprised if any dedicated older student got in there and nearly got mauled.
I haven't heard from Darius or Isabelle, so I am assuming that everything is coming together like we had hoped, and people are falling in line. Oh, I can't wait! I wonder if this is what Dumbledore felt like when he ruined my life. I must admit that the feeling of pulling certain strings is invigorating and rather addictive. This may not be over soon, but hopefully, I won't be limited to playing in the shadows soon. From what I have learned about my father, he had a flair for the dramatics that I think I have inherited, and I am ready for the performance of my life.
I have officially been invited to stay with the Greengrass family over winter break, and I think that I will accept because if everything goes to plan, I won't need my room at your place. Not that I didn't love visiting with you guys when I could, but I would like to get to know Lady Greengrass better over the break. We have been exchanging letters over the last two months, and I can easily see why my father was such a close friend to her. She is like Andromeda; she cares fiercely for those she considers family, and I am honored to have made the list.
It is still unbelievable to me how much my life has changed in the last three months, and so much of that can be attributed to you two, so thank you. For everything. I don't know exactly how things will pan out once the ball gets rolling with things against Dumbledore, but I am hoping that at the very least, my piece is removed from his chessboard. If not, I am afraid I may just flip the board and start a new game, and who knows what that will look like.
Dora says to send more cookies, Ted. I don't know why she refuses to tell you herself, but I promised that I would pass on the message in exchange for a favor, and Andromeda knows how much we Slytherins love our favors. Oh, and before I forget, I made the Slytherin house quidditch team, and I will be playing as their new seeker. Youngest seeker in a century as a matter of fact!
Missing you both more than I thought I would,
Hadrian J. Potter
Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter
The response he got the next day from Hedwig only read, "We will see you soon. Be strong and be ready. Blacks do not bow," in Andromeda's handwriting.