Never Trust A Snake

Chapter Fourteen

'The-Boy-Who-Lived'

Hadrian had been lied to. On top of the obvious lies withing his life, a much more sinister lie stood. Evan wasn't the one who defeated the great Dark Lord. It was Hadrian. No wonder Evan was so incompetent with any form of magic, contrasting all stories of him. Dumbledor, the old coot, had been wrong.

His life until going to the Dursleys, his life of neglect, of never being good enough, of constantly being pushed down by Evan, it was a lie. If they had known, Lily and James would never have send him to live with the Dursleys. The abuse he suffered would never have happened. Hadrian's mind grasped at every possibility that he could've had a normal life. But soon it began to drift to revenge. He was more powerful that any of them. He had control over their fate, he was their precious saviour, after all.

"What!" Voldemort snapped, his head flicking round to face Hadrian.

"Evan Potter, does not have green eyes," Hadrian repeated, slowly as if confirming the truth for himself.

"That can't be correct!" Voldemort hissed, anger seething off him. At this moment, Bellatrix and Lucius had retreated to the back of the hall, listening intently to the conversation.

"You're eyes are not the ones I saw before my doom." The Dark Lord explained, growling out his sentence. His magic once again crawling towards Hadrian, wrapping around him, filling the room. That suffocating sensation.

Hadrian knew what he had to do to prove his point. Drop his glamour. Yet, Voldemort knew of the assassin Hades. Of his unnatural hair that so easily gave him away. He could already guess that Voldemort had plans of an alliance with the assassin.

Letting out a deep sigh, Hadrian removed the glamours that he donned. His hair turning from the raven it had begun, to a bone white. His eyes returning to their natural, glowing, killing-curse, toxic green. His eyes were like pools, filled with knowledge and power. Voldemort at once recognised those eyes. The eyes of the small, raven haired toddler who had caused his demise. The same eyes that often haunted his dreams, taunting and mocking him each night.

"It is true. You are the one prophesied to defeat me." He stated, before his words turned to a cruel laughter.

"You are a dark wizard! The assassin Hades! And you have been marked as my follower, no less!" He cackled, crimson eyes trailing up the dark mark upon Hadrian's forearm. This sudden outburst drew both Bellatrix and Lucius's attention back towards the boy. A sudden gasp escaped Lucius's lips, this was indeed the man who attacked Diagon Alley.

"Being who I am, I could defeat you here and now. I not one of your pathetic Death Eaters, willing to do your every bidding." Hadrian growled out.

"Of course not. You will much more useful," Voldemort confessed, a cruel smile plastered on his pale face.

***

It had been an hour since Hadrian was released and allowed to wander the manor. Or rather, a single room. He and Voldemort had yet to debate their alliance. The Dark Lord was convinced that Hadrian would remain his follower, his Death Eater. But that currently wasn't a issue. Hadrian needed the Dark Lord to rise, for his own twisted needs for revenge. His newfound position within the prophecy allowed him to aid Voldemort in his resurrection. That was what he was waiting for, the ritual to be set up. Hadrian had little to do in the meantime, besides lying on the soft bed that was positioned in the corner.

Very soon, a burning sensation consumed his arm. The dark mark, signelling him that it was time. Slowly, Hadrian stood up, walking towards the door. Opening the door, he was greeted by Bellatrix's cruel grin. She beckoned for him to follow as she began walking off in a quick pace.

"Who would've guessed that the little light wizard, is a psychopath!" Bellatrix squealed, grinning madly at Hadrian.

"I was never a support of the light," he replied.

"What! But you're a Potter! Those pigs are as light as you get,"

"I was never part of their family."  Hadrian stated, quickly putting and end to the conversation. Luckily Bellatrix followed his lead and remained silent for the rest of the journey.

Eventually, after passing many doors and hallways, the pair arrived at a staircase. A the stone steps led to a large cavern-like room, walls and flooring made from a deep grey stone. Sitting in the centre of a drawn circle was Voldemort. Objects, herbs, vials of liquids sitting around and inside the circle. Hadrian cautiously approached, his eyes trained on The Dark Lord. Lucius stepped out of the shadows, delicately holding an ornate silver dagger. The emerald hilt, branded with the Slytherin crest, was offered to Hadrian as Lucius instructed him on what to do. Once Hadrian had been given his instructions, both Lucius and Bellatrix exited the room.

Carefully, the white haired boy brandished the dagger, raising it over the palm of his hand. Unflinchingly, he cut into his palm. The red stained his pale skin, the smell of copper infesting the air. As if aware of this, Voldemort's magic seeped into the room. The intoxicating power drawing Hadrian closer, the mark on his arm burning from the familiar magic. With each step closer, his forearm was only in more pain, yet the intoxicating feeling of power forced him to ignore it. Hadrian stood on the edge of the circle, his hand raised above the sitting wizard, allowing his blood to drip off his palm. As the blood made contact with Lord Voldemort, a new magic swarmed the room. It was darker, older and even more powerful. The old magic itself was being pulled into the ritual. The magic was getting thicker and darker, becoming visible as it obscured Voldemort. Hadrian took a step back, at a loss for words. This power, this darkness, this magic, he needed to master it. A crazed grin formed on his face as he imagined it. With power like this, he would be unstoppable.

Hadrian was dragged out of his thoughts as the foreign magic dissipated. The circle had been smeared, the vials smashed, herbs crushed and the objects shattered. Voldemort was left sitting in the ruined circle, his old body restored.

This was Tom Riddle. Deep brown hair, falling across his forehead. Crimson eyes standing out from his pale skin. His face was an example of pureblood royalty, that anyone would die for. From what Hadrian could see past the black robes Tom wore, he had the body of a god.

Hadrian was so fixated with Riddle that he barely noticed Lucius rushing in and helping their Lord up. The blonde had soon aided Riddle in standing and exiting the room. Leaving Hadrian and Bellatrix in their wake.

"Shit..." Hadrian muttered, recieving a curious glance from Bellatrix. Though the witch soon let a lovestruck look befall he face as she replied.

"You and me both, Hades"

***

"I could set this world on fire and call it rain"