Consuming Shadows

Chapter 19

Voldemort had only ever encountered Hadrian's mental shields whenever he attempted to skim the child's mind, and those had always been quite strong, batting his efforts away easily.

Typically, with such a protected mind, he would have been met with more resistance when entering. The only reason he had managed to breeze passed the initial walls as effortlessly as he had, was because Hadrian was hardly at his peak right now, and his mental defences reflected that.

His body was already falling into shock, due to the blood loss, and the fact that there were likely still traces of venom circulating his system.

He had seen the boy remove most of it – and had that not been a delicious display of skill? – but he knew that without a wand, the level of precision for the spell would have diminished greatly.

With his magical loss, and the trauma from the task itself, coupled with the gaping wound on his head – Voldemort was unsurprised that the boy's first line of defence had crumpled under his intrusion like wet paper.

He was, however, surprised with this.

He found himself in a void.

There was nothing but the unending darkness. All around him, pressing in on him, suffocating and consuming him. It seemed to thrum with warning, a silent threat that whispered you do not belong here.

Unprepared for such an attack, there was a brief moment – nothing more than a flicker – where panic washed through him.

Whatever he had anticipated lurked within the boy's mind, it had not been this complete lack of everything.

From his interactions with Hadrian, he would have expected this space to be filled to the brim with ideas and emotions and memories. The boy was so quick-witted and sly, his eyes alive with every thought that came to him, constantly spinning.

This stillness, this silence...it was like nothing he had ever experienced in any mind before.

And that unbalanced him for a beat. But as quickly as he lost it, his calm returned to him when he noted that other than being supremely uncomfortable, this darkness was doing nothing but holding him tightly in place, restricting him from going forward or retreating.

He relaxed the tension that had sprung through him.

This was what the mindscape of a braindead person would resemble, the complete cessation of all thought – just without the crushing sensation of entrapment.

If he had not been able to feel Hadrian's magic pushing against his own – futilely attempting to eject him – he would almost be tempted to label him dead.

Initially, he had been content to just stay on the fringes of Hadrian's mind, to keep his magic focussed on his invading presence rather than the mediwitches trying to heal his broken body.

But now...his curiosity was piqued yet again by the child, and he acknowledged that this was a unique opportunity to unravel some of his little enigma's secrets.

Ever since that first lesson his thoughts had repeatedly strayed back to the French seventh year. Sometimes fleetingly, thought more often than not, for long stretches of time. The more time he spent in the boy's company, the more prominent his interest had grown.

And he was not foolish enough to allow this chance to slip through his fingers.

His eyes roamed over the shroud of darkness, senses reaching out to probe the strange defence, trying to see if he had any way to dispel it.

It was positively unnerving. There was just something undeniably foreign about its presence here.

It was clear that this was not a natural defence projected by Hadrian to protect his mind, because he could detect a different magical signature mingled in with the boy's own. But it was also wrong, because it just...was not Hadrian enough.