Chapter 11

210 8 0
                                    


For the first time he could recall, Hadrian's mind just stopped. His thoughts fell flat, half-formed and unacknowledged.

He blinked heavily, once, twice, trying to struggle his way passed the haze that was clogging his head. Unlike before, he did not lose his composure. There was no shortness of breath, no horrible tremors.

Instead there was a small ember of anger that sparked in him as the disbelief and sting of betrayal wilted.

His hand clenched around the paper and his eyes darkened, the bright emerald becoming almost black as his magic began to writhe within him, begging to be released.

Hadrian had read that bursts of extreme negative emotions could affect a wizard's ability to wield their magic, making it wild and uncontrollable. He had never, in all his years, felt anything so potent that it could shake the tight leash he kept on his power.

Until now.

He was not a naturally aggressive person – he felt anger, certainly, and his rage could be as disastrous as a tsunami, but it was always fleeting and easily conquered.

This? This was not something he could let go.

Jacob had betrayed him. Made a conscious decision to do this to him.

That could not be forgiven.

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

It would not be forgiven.

"I am fine, Draco." His voice gave no indication of his emotional instability, and moments later his face was wiped of anything that could give it away.

Draco gave him a wary look, grey eyes searching for answers. "If you say so," the other eventually allowed.

Hadrian took his burning rage and tucked it neatly away, not ignoring it, but knowing it would do him no good right now. His mother had trained him in how to deal with situations like this, how to organise his thoughts and compartmentalize so as to not get distracted by his emotions.

He did not know what he would do when he inevitably saw Jacob again, and part of him was actually scared of what his reaction would be; but for now, he revelled in the calmness that settled over his thoughts and blanketed his turbulent state.

By the time the doors opened again and a number of officials entered, Hadrian was the picture of ease, standing beside Draco with his hands loosely clasped behind his back.

The three newly named champions looked up as the adults entered, Lucius Malfoy in the lead and looking very smug for a man whose only blood-child was about to face certain death. Behind the blond Minister of Magic were the respective Heads of their schools, and Hadrian relaxed further when he spotted Madame Maxime's towering figure.

The sight of her comforted him almost as much as seeing his mother would have.

The woman's dark eyes landed on him the second she had cleared the doorway. There was intense pride on her features as she gazed at him, tempered by the tightness around her mouth. Hadrian distantly recalled what she had told him before they had departed Beauxbatons, of her hopes and fears.

He gave a small nod at her. The tenseness remained fixed to her, but she returned his dip of the head.

His eyes trailed passed her and ran over the number of politicians that had managed to wriggle their way into the room, most nondescript and dull, especially in the presence of the Dark Lord.

Hadrian stared at the man closely, tracing over his form with clinical interest. Already the air felt heavy with the man's dark magic polluting in. He took a deep, steadying breath as his eyes finally reached Voldemort's face.

Consuming ShadowsWhere stories live. Discover now