Not Who You Think

Ten

The next day, he could hardly wait for ten o'clock to come. He was very anxious about how the meeting with Voldemort, with his father, would go, and could only hope that everything would work out well. It was very hard for him to keep his mask up during breakfast. Something that was obviously noticed by the others since Ron had an excuse ready by the time that breakfast was over. Ron had pulled him out of the room with the excuse that he wanted to look through some catalogues for Christmas presents, meaning they were able to escape Molly's insistence that they spend the morning together.

At the moment, it was quarter to ten and he was pacing the room, waiting for ten o'clock to come, while Ron continued to read through his notes on the Hogwarts wards on his bed. He had let his base form come back and was already dressed in his basilisk skin duelling clothes and boots, his matching half mask in his hand. Hadrian was completely kitted up, with his wand holstered to his arm and his daggers discretely strapped to his arms, legs, and belt, along with his fully stocked belt, although he rarely took those off. They had alert wards all throughout the house, so they would know if someone were approaching their room, and Hadrian was very good with glamours and his morphing, so he didn't have to worry about Molly or another of the Chickens walking in on something that would create questions. The portkey was held tightly in his opposite hand.

"Prince. Hadrian. Mate. Calm down," Ron said, looking up from his notes as Hadrian passed his bed yet again as he walked laps around the room.

"So many things could go wrong. So many things could go right," Hadrian said. He desperately wanted to run his hand through his hair to try and relieve some of his tension, but both his hands were holding something. Ron stood up and pushed Hadrian down onto his bed, before forcing a small phial of calming drought into his hand.

"Drink that and calm down Prince," Ron instructed. Hadrian sighed but did as Ron said, drinking the small amount of calming drought that was contained in the phial. The potion had its desired effect and he felt some of the tension and stress disappearing.

"Ok. Now, everything will go fine. Do you have the diadem?" Ron asked. Hadrian nodded, pulling it out of the extended pocket in his cloak; they all had one and it meant they could carry as much as they wanted without compromising their duelling ability, since their basilisk clothes were their duelling outfits. Ron nodded and he put the horcrux back in his pocket.

"You have every planned out and Streak and I will be listening in if anything that we weren't expecting happens. It will be fine Prince," Ron assured him. Hadrian nodded.

"I know Striker. But this is the first time that I'm meeting my father without him wanting to kill me and I would prefer to keep it that way."

"I get it. Now, put your mask on and remove the glamour from your snake ear piece." Hadrian took a deep breathe before placing his half mask on his face, where it instantly stuck and moulded itself to fit perfectly and the few enchantments on it, to hide his real eye colour and to change his voice, activated. He then waved his hand, dropping the glamour from his left ear, allowing the king cobra that was curled around his ear to be able to clearly be seen. Hadrian glanced towards the clock. One-minute left. He stood up, not wanting to be sitting down when the portkey activated.

"Good luck, and remember what we've planned," Ron said. Hadrian nodded and took one last deep breath before the portkey in his hand activated, transporting him from Grimmauld Place to the headquarters of the Dark with a jerk behind his navel and a swirl of colours.

He thudded on the ground as he landed in an entrance hall of whatever building he had been brought to; the only reason he didn't collapse was simply luck. Hadrian instantly tensed, easily becoming all business; becoming Prince. He looked around, taking note of anything of interest or anything that could be used to harm him. He noted that a lot of the embellishments around the room were done in burnished silver, and the few ornaments and other items all seemed very expensive, but not in a flashy type of way; it was a more elegant way of flaunting wealth. The room didn't have anything that could be used as a weapon and Prince allowed himself to relax slightly from his tense position, while still keeping his guard up.