Hadrian grows up alone in the obscure shadow of his younger brother, Daniel Potter, The-Boy-Lived. Daniel is loved while Hadrian is forgotten. In the absence of love; a cold, hard, calculating boy is born. The story follows Hadrian's life - how the...
"Fearless child, broken boy, tell me what it's like to burn."
....
Hadrian woke suddenly, his mind running fast and alert. Sitting up, he considered where he was.
'Somnolence gets you dead, fast. Only the paranoid survive.'
The deep voice echoed in his head causing him to straighten. The conviction was not his own, but that of a learnt lesson. One of his first.
Knowing he was safe Hadrian tried to relax, but his heart refused to slow its ominous beat. It was like a menacing drum tempo rising as if preparing for a finale. It was unnaturally foreboding, promising a frenzy of soundless screams in a burning world.
Shoving dark curls out of his eyes, he stretched his hands in the air and yawned inadvertently. It resembled a guttural groan; deep and rough. He was sat alone in an empty compartment at the Slytherin end of the train. The seats on which he sat were made of grey leather and had the Slytherin emblem stitched flawlessly on to the headrest. The blinds that lay either side of the window were of a thick velvet and the colour of deep emerald green.
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Hadrian was attempting to sleep, yet his mind was his weakness and his childhood plagued his dreams. He felt a headache coming on. The top of his skull ached with a splintering kind of pain, one that you would associate with heartache. It swirled like an insatiable fire, burning the oxygen out of his body and leaving him listless and empty. The feeling came in waves, making him clench his jaw in an attempt to reduce its pain and cease its intolerable sorrow. The headaches were becoming worse. The exhaustion that accompanied them had formed a veil over his skin, that was both grey and cold.
The train was returning to King's Cross station for the beginning of summer. Hadrian's fourth year at Hogwarts had been unusual. Since the start of the his fourth year, intense scrutiny had been thrown his way. The staring and gawking fell into three different categories, curiosity, suspicion or obsession. This was not to dismiss the tremors of fear and trepidation on the students faces when Hadrian passed them in the corridor or entered a classroom. But then, perhaps that was just a given.
Dumbledore was the catalyst - this past year the old wizards piercing blue eyes had seem to lock on to Hadrian's form every time he walked into a room. He could feel them slicing across his shoulder panes or drilling into the back of his head. But whenever Hadrian turned around Dumbledore's attention seemed to be occupied by something else in the room.
The strange thing was that Dumbledore had never given Hadrian the light of day - not even when he was sorted into Slytherin. There had been nothing, not even a slither of recognition to the Potter family name. So, this new attention he was receiving from the Headmaster was disconcerting. What had warranted such attentiveness?
