The Life of Hadriana Potter

Chapter 1- The Betrayal

Betrayal was not something Harry Potter was unaccustomed to. She had felt nothing but bone deep betrayal for months after the final battle. Learning that a man you considered family, a man that had been your mentor, had raised you like a pig to slaughter, subtly manipulating you to be happy to waltz to your death tended to mess a person up mentally.

But this betrayal Harry had not seen coming. She had been completely blind-sided. It had come out of left field, and she had only discovered the duplicity on accident. She clearly had not been meant to hear it; her two best friends whispering conspiratorially with Ginny. Their words pierced her heart like a knife.

"We only have so long for you to marry her, Ginny. You've managed to make her fall in love with you, thanks to the love Potions mum brewed. But Dumbledore's time-delayed letter will arrive in two months. The Horcrux inside of her has molded to her own soul, and she needs to be dead. But having the Potter and Black fortunes is a must."

Hermione had spoken nonchalantly about her death, brown eyes glittering with malevolent greed. Harry had felt sick to her stomach. Voldemort's soul had molded to her own. Her death had meant nothing. Potter and Black vaults? Plural? Why hadn't Sirius said anything? Dumbledore?

Harry stiffened and hastily pulled her Invisibility Cloak on, huddling closer to the stone wall. She had been living at Hogwarts to help the restoration, but now she wanted to flee - to run and never return. But she forced herself to remain, to listen. Her friends - had they ever been her true friends? - spoke casually about Dumbledore and their plans to murder her and take all her money (apparently, she was filthy rich).

Dumbledore had organized with them a time sealed letter that would be sent to the Minister of Magic, which was currently Kingsley Shacklebolt, spilling all about Harry's connection to Tom Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort. Undoubtedly the Ministry, wanting to keep the peace, would kill her.

Harry clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting her breakfast all over the flagstones and shuddered as Ginny, quite gleefully, cackled about manipulating Harry into loving her. It made her sick.

Time meant nothing as Harry stood there, gazing at nothing. Her friends - former friends - had long since left, their vicious plans buzzing about Harry's mind. People she loved, had trusted.

Betrayal felt something akin to a thousand knives piercing her heart.

Harry had to get out of there. She didn't know who else was part of it if anyone. Snape was dead, throat torn out by Nagini. She had no one else to trust. Who knew how deep McGonagall was in Dumbledore's pocket? Had she known? Perhaps.

Harry stumbled from the school, stomach rolling with nausea. She blindly made her way down the long, winding path from the castle to the gates and all but collapsed outside them. She heaved and retched, food and bile splattering on the ground.

Had everything been a lie? Harry wondered. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny - perhaps even Mrs. Weasley - had been plotting her death with the Mastermind himself, Albus Dumbledore. It didn't really surprise her all that much about him. He had manipulated her to become a self-sacrificing martyr. He had also been Gellert Grindelwald’s lover, for Merlin’s sake.

Harry righted herself and wiped her mouth, grimacing at the acrid taste of sick, and turned sharply on her heel with a muffled crack. She appeared at the Apparition Zone in Diagon, and hastily made her way to the bank. The glass dome had been repaired since Harry and her frie - Granger and Weasley - had escaped on Dragon back months ago.