Hadrian left the chamber deep in thought. The revelation from Ignotus unsettled him—not because he feared it, but because it confirmed something he had always felt but could never name. His magic was different. His very soul carried an echo of something beyond the world he knew.
The corridors of Hogwarts were quiet at this hour, the torches flickering as he made his way back toward the dormitory. The knowledge he had gained in such a short time was overwhelming, but he was not one to shy away from power.
"If my magic does not belong to this time, then where does it belong?"
As he turned a corner, a chill ran down his spine. The air in front of him shimmered, bending like ripples on the surface of water. He stopped, eyes narrowing.
A whisper brushed against his ear, faint but unmistakable.
"Hadrian Peverell…"
He turned sharply, his wand slipping into his hand. The corridor was empty. And yet, the whisper had been real.
The torches dimmed for a brief moment before the light returned to normal.
Hadrian exhaled slowly. He was being watched.
By what, or by whom, he did not yet know.
But he would find out.
And when he did, he would be ready.
—