Chapter 14 – What is in a Name

Azkaban was intimidating. There was no other word to describe the towering, stone edifice rising from rock cliffs. The instant Cole was deposited by portkey in the shallowly lit, high ceilinged lobby of the prison, he had shivered. Not only was the prison freezing, but the dementors' influence was completely awash the place. Despite the assurance that the creatures were restricted to the prison blocks, he could feel the wraiths as if they were but feet from him, their terrible power sucking all the heat and happiness right out of him. The North Sea clawing at the island's rock cliffs echoing throughout the solid walls, the sound ominous and easily mistaken for the rumblings of a mammoth creature building itself up to swallowing the great pillar of justice whole, did nothing to assuage his fear.

To say Cole was petrified would an understatement. He was utterly terrified. He huddled close to Professor Cornfoot, as they were escorted down a narrow hallway. A tall, dark skinned man and an all around average blond man led the way, while a short, brunette woman and a lean, bald man brought up the rear. All four Aurors were stoic, as they ushered them about with purpose.

The dark skinned Auror drew them to a stop before a plain, wooden door at the very end of the hall and cut his wand through the air in a series of strange and complex movements. He pressed his hand to the door's surface and muttered something under his breath. There was a brief, nearly indistinguishable ripple of magic over the door and then a click that told of a latch being unlocked.

"He's unrestrained, as per your request, Mr. Cornfoot," the dark skin Auror informed. "Should he give you trouble, yell for assistance. We will remain here, just outside the door, for the duration of your meeting and are capable of being at your aid in a matter of seconds."

"Thank you," Professor Cornfoot said politely. "I will keep that in mind."

Cole felt a jumble of emotion mix with is fear (nervousness, anticipation, uncertainty) twisting his stomach, as he watched the dark skinned Auror reach over and lift the iron door latch.

Without a sound, the door swung inward.

Cole's heart speed ever so slightly in his chest and his lungs still. There sitting at a metal table on metal chair that was bolt to the floor was a man who he had only ever seen in yellowed newspaper clippings. Black was now ten years older, far skinnier, and his dark hair longer than it had been at the beginning of the '80's, but he was recognizable enough. Surprisingly, he was well groomed and his prison robes look fresh, brand new even. It was his silvery, gray eyes, however, that had Cole rooted to the spot. The man's eyes had locked onto him the instant the door had opened and were far more intense than any newspaper photograph could have ever conveyed. It was only Professor Cornfoot's guiding hand on his shoulder that prevented Cole from bolting back up the hall.

With reluctance, Cole allowed Professor Cornfoot to urge him forward into the room. He jumped, upon the door sealing shut behind them.

"Cornfoot," Black greeted coolly. Though he addressed Professor Cornfoot, his gaze remained affixed on Cole.

"Black," Cornfoot greeted in return and gave Cole a nudge.

Cole sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. He counted to ten in his mind, while focusing on calming his thoughts and emotions, as he'd been taught to do in his Occlumency lessons with Professor Cornfoot. 1 … 2 … 3 … 4 … 5 … 6 … 7 … 8 … 9 … He released his breath in a slow exhale. Feeling much calmer than he had been since Professor Cornfoot had dragged him off to Gladrags a little less than an hour ago, he reached up to the hood of his cloak and drew it back. He opened his eyes, meeting Black's piercing gaze directly. He took one measure step forward, breaking the contact between him and Professor Cornfoot. "Lord Black," he said respectfully and bent forward at the torso into a proper bow.

"May I?" Cole heard Black ask somewhat awkwardly, after a moments pause where a heavy silence had claimed the room. Cole was tempted to look up from his bow, yet he knew that it was expected for him to hold the bow until he received acknowledgement and permission to release the bow from Black. As he was presenting himself to 'his lord' for the first time, it would be disrespectful for him so much as fidget at this point.

"He is pure, Black," Professor Cornfoot said warningly in return to the inquiry.

There was another moment of heavy silence. Five rapid heartbeats and Cole heard Black's chair scrape across the floor. He tensed and felt his fear rear its head anew and a measure of panic join in, as the prisoner stepped around the metal table and moved ever closer to him. He sucked in another breath, closed his eyes, and counted. He had reached fifteen when he sensed Black's presence looming over him.

"Stand," Black commanded.

Cole obeyed. He forced himself to hold Black's penetrating gaze, upon looking up and breathing out steadily.

Black's eyes slid over Cole, taking in his every feature. Though the prisoner put forth a visible effort not to show any emotion towards the boy in front of him, there was something hidden deep within his eyes that seemed hungry, almost desperate, to Cole. He raised his right hand, as if to reach out to Cole, but dropped it at seeing the way Cole flinched away from the possibility of being touched.

"Sorry," Black apologized hastily and turned his back on Cole and Professor Cornfoot. When he resettled himself at the table, he kept his gaze trained on his clasped hands, which he rested upon the table's metal surface.

"Cole, you may wait –" Professor Cornfoot started to dismiss Cole.

"No," Black cut in firmly and looked to Professor Cornfoot with ferocity pulling at the corners of his lips and narrowing his eyes. "It will be done here and now, before me."

Professor Cornfoot swept past Cole and strode over to Black. At only the table and a half-step left between them, he stilled and stared down at the prisoner. Anger was visible on his face and in the rigidity of his posture. "We had a deal," he said coldly. "You wanted to see him, and so you've seen him. You do not want to renegotiate terms with me, Black."

"Please, Dem." Black requested softly, his gaze beseeching and his desperation no longer hidden, but plain for the world to see. "Ten years. I haven't had anything good to hold onto … I – I just … please."

Professor Cornfoot back looked to Cole.

Cole shook his head. He had done what the professor had said he needed to do. He was done. He wanted to go – now!

Professor Cornfoot nodded and returned his attention to Black. "My answer is going to have to be no. I will write to let you know the results. That ought to be enough. It is more than what most people believe you deserve at any rate."

Black sat back in his chair, looking a cross between angry and positively crushed.

"Black," Professor Cornfoot prompted the man with expectation.

"Blood." Black stretched out his left arm and pulled back the cuff of his robes to expose his wrist. "It will be stronger with blood."

To Cole there was nothing strange about Black's forearm, yet Professor Cornfoot went absolutely still, his eyes staring at the exposed, bare skin as if it were something inexplicable. He cleared his throat roughly, withdrew an empty vial from the breast pocket of his robes, and set about collecting Black's blood. He healed the minor cut he had made in Black's wrist, after pocketing the now full the vial of blood.

The two men stared at one another with guarded expressions.

"At least tell me his name," Black said.

"He doesn't have one." Professor Cornfoot made to turn away from Black, but paused and aimed a considering look at the prisoner. "I was thinking Adrastos would do nicely, perhaps as a middle name."

Black cocked his head and looked Cole over with pensive eyes. "You believe the name will serve him?"

"Considerably," Professor Cornfoot answered without missing a beat.

Black nodded. "And what of his given name?"

"I've narrowed it down to two possibilities and intend to allow him to give his opinion on the two, before I make my final decision," Professor Cornfoot said smoothly.

Cole glared at the two men, but said nothing. He may not like them talking about him as if he weren't standing in the room with them, but he was smart enough to know that mouthing off would only bring him trouble. He'd save his rant for when he and Professor Cornfoot were back in the man's quarters at Hogwarts.

Professor Cornfoot turned away from Black. Cole welcomed the man's guiding hand on his shoulder, as they both made for the exit.

"You may have denounced Voldemort, Dem, but we both know that isn't the same as going straight. Not the way you want people to think you have. I know," Black said in a dark, warning tone that sent tremors down Cole's spine. He didn't dare to turn around, even as Professor Cornfoot drew them to a stop and looked back over his shoulder to Black. "Fair warning, James will kill you for this."

"He won't," Professor Cornfoot said confidently. Cole could hear the smirk in his voice.

Before Black could say anything more, Professor Cornfoot directed Cole back out into the narrow hallway where the Auror were waiting for them.

–

Cole paced at the water's edge of the Cove, trying to wrestle his mind around the day's events. The paternity test had gone just as Professor Cornfoot had assured him it would. Magically and now legally, in accordance to the forms Professor Cornfoot had had him fill out and proceeded to file for him this evening at the Ministry … Sirius Black was his father, which made the man by default his guardian. That had been a twist that Cole hadn't considered. The triumphant gleam in Professor Cornfoot's eyes told him that it had been something the man had already accounted for in his plans and desired. He was now under the rule and protection of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and, conveniently enough, was the de facto Head of the House of Black.

Cole huffed irritably. Again he was getting something he wanted, even if he hadn't thought it a possibility prior to receiving it. Yet, he was once again faced with the fact that Professor Cornfoot was the source of his latest victory and clearly had an agenda that had everything to do with getting him what he wanted … and at exactly the right moment.

It was no coincidence that Professor Cornfoot had asked Cole, Stephen, and Anthony to join him for breakfast and no coincidence that his and Cole's meeting with Black had been scheduled as it had been. At dinner, the evening post – which usually consisted of the few owls who hadn't been able to deliver their burdens during the morning post – bought Cole a letter from one Lord Lucius Malfoy. It was a formal declaration of intention. His lordship had a contract of guardianship drawn up and was going to file to become his guardian come Monday.

Cole snickered softly to himself, as he imagined the blond man's face when it was made known that he was basically his own guardian and had no need for anyone to file for guardianship of him.

Just wait until he finds out that not only am I a son of Black, but a son of Peverell as well.

Cole's mood damped and he returned to scowling. His name. He had argued and argued with Professor Cornfoot about it all afternoon. He would take the name of Peverell, as was his birthright … but his actual name was not his to decide. He didn't quite understand it. Professor Cornfoot had brought the Gods into it and cited some old tome that referenced a person's naming as being something sacred and an invocation of power. He really hadn't cared to pay attention, as he'd been so furious. In the end, all that he took away from their argument had been that if he did attempt to name himself, he'd be cursed by the Gods and magic, itself, for the duration of time he claimed the name as his own. What had drove the entire thing home had been Professor Cornfoot pointing out just how detached he felt to the name Cole Trafalgar, how he had known for as long as he could remember that it wasn't his name and continuously referred to himself as being without a name, despite the Muggles having named him.

"You've always known it," Professor Cornfoot had said firmly. "Magic and the Gods know you not as Cole Trafalgar, yet the fact that your Hogwarts letter came addressed as such indicates that it isn't recognized that your Harry Potter either. You feel it deep within you, the discord of possessing the name your parents gifted you but having been unable to identify with it for so long now that it no longer serves you as it should have. Naming yourself won't make that go away. I guarantee it. Any name you pick for yourself will be skewed by the way you see yourself, instead of the way the world sees you and how you are meant to be seen."

Cole had argued for a good hour more before relenting enough to allow Professor Cornfoot to present him with the two names the professor thought would serve him well: Hadar Adrastos and Nikolaus Adrastos. Hadar was apparently a celestial name and was a name that followed the traditional naming pattern of the House of Black, while Nikolaus was the Norwegian variant of Nicholas and was a nod back to his family's origins 1,000 years ago. All that he got out of Professor Cornfoot about the name Adrastos was that it was Greek.

Cole stopped in his pacing and glared across the smooth water of the Cove. The stars and moon reflected in the water's dark, glass-like surface. The night was strangely calm. There wasn't even a breeze to ruffle the tops of the trees. He had long since felt that he shouldn't be out on his own. His gut kept telling him to go back up to the castle. Yet, he was mad, irrationally so, and didn't want to return to the dorm to face Stephen and Anthony, as he'd been rather short with them at dinner, more so than he had ever been before.

The thing was, Cole didn't understand why it bothered him so badly that Professor Cornfoot would be the one to name him. If there was anyone in the world who he ought to trust to give him a proper name, it was Professor Cornfoot. Still, his insides squirmed at the thought. It wasn't right. Just as he knew that he was nameless for the time being, he knew that Professor Cornfoot couldn't have the final ruling on his name. Though, admittedly, he did like the sound of Nikolaus Adrastos. It had a certain ring to it. He wasn't as fond of Hadar Adrastos, however, as he wasn't really Black's son and didn't want to be Black's son.

I'm James Potter's son.

And that was it, Cole realized with an alarmed jolt. He stood rigid, frozen with the sudden onslaught of comprehension. He swallowed hard. "Fuck!"

Cole had no clue how or when it happened, but he not only understood that he was James Potter's son, he identified himself as being the traitor's son. "Fuck …"

Cole's eyes narrowed and he fisted his hands at his sides. Hate raged through him, hate for Potter and hate directed at himself for even considering the bastard worth being his father. He wasn't supposed to feel anything for his parents, either one. His mother was long dead. Damn it! Potter was locked up and wasn't going to see the light of day for what he did to her and the Longbottoms.

"Fuck Longbottom!" Cole cursed Boy-Wonder just for the sake of doing so, grasping at the momentary distraction.

A twig snapping in the stillness of the night had Cole whipping around with his wand poised at the ready. He scanned the darkness of the underbrush at the forests edge, his heart pounding wildly in his chest and pulsing adrenaline into his veins. More twigs snapped under the weight of unsteady steps. Cole backed up to the water's edge, his mouth going dry. The heals of his new boots splashed in the shallow of the lake licking the shoreline, as a great white horse pushed through the underbrush and stumbled over the pebbles towards him. It made a valiant effort to reach him, its eyes locked onto him with an odd intelligence and a cold calm.

"No!" Cole yelled and darted forward without understanding his reaction, upon the horse faltering and keeling over right before his eyes. He was at its side in moments. His hands flew over the beast's shimmering coat, looking for the injury that had weekended the glorious animal. He barely registered the tears streaming down his face, as his hands became soaked with a hot, silver substance and his fingers sunk into a distinctly human bite mark in the horse's neck. He pushed his palms to the wound, trying to keep the weird silver blood, he supposed it was, from escaping. His thoughts were rapid with panic, finding it impossible to figure out what he ought to do next. The castle was too far for him to run for help and he'd yet to study much healing magic. The best he could do was heal bruises and patch up minor cuts.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Cole found himself babbling to the animal, looking directly into its deep, black eyes rimmed in gold. He could feel its heart beat weakening, even as its gaze never lessened. It let out a hot breath of air, a soft of whimper, and then went limp. Black eyes rimmed in gold stared up at him … dead.

Cole broke down completely, crying like he hadn't cried in years. He sat there beside the carcass, helpless and his hands and front covered in the animal's blood. It wasn't until he calmed down under the orange and pink glow of the rising sun that he realized that the horse wasn't a horse at all, but a fabled unicorn. The golden horn jutting from its head made it unmistakable.

"Who drank from you?" Cole asked, leaning over the unicorn to better examine the wound in the animal's neck. It was a human bite, that was for certain. "Who could be stupid enough to take from you what they've no right to?"

It would have been one thing for the unicorn's neck to have been cut. That would have meant poachers were about. The bite, however, foretold of something far more sinister. Someone was attempting to increase their power. Not only that, they were desperate to do so. Cole may not have actually studied magical creatures just yet, but he had read enough in potions to know that once unicorn's blood crossed a person's lips, they were cursed to a half-life for the remainder of their existence.

Cole stood on shaky legs. He stared down at the unicorn with trepidation. It had come to him. He was no fool. It hadn't come to drink from the lake one last time. It had sought him out. It had wanted his help and he had failed it. He felt sick.

Cole backed away from the carcass several clumsy steps. He had apologized, hadn't he. He had tried his best, surely it understood that he had. Several more clumsy steps and he found himself landing on his ass with the lakes frigid waters washing over him. He coughed and sputtered, as he came up for air. The water was still shallow, but deep enough to dunk him. He shivered and glared at the unicorn.

"You shouldn't have come to me," Cole told it angrily. "I'm the son of Britain's most infamous traitor. You should have known I'd be no good at helping." He bared his teeth at the unmoving carcass. "The best thing I've ever done in my life was save Adam Marsden from getting his arse beat black and blue every other day."

Cole pushed himself up and out of the water. He was of a half-mind to storm back up to the castle and leave the unicorn to rot, but didn't want the Cove to be ruined by a smelly, decomposing animal.

"You owe me for the trouble," Cole told the unicorn, as he stomped up to it with his wand held aloft. A severing charm earned him the unicorn's horn, multiple plucking charms earned him a sizable collection of tail hairs, and a transfiguration charm and a bit of physical effort earned him a goopy vial of blood. Satisfied with his gains, he focused on gathering as much magic as he could to him, before casting a charm that he was getting particularly good at. "Incendio!"

The unicorn's carcass was alight in seconds and burning white hot. Cole stayed through the morning, watching as his spell reduced the unicorn to a heaping pile of ash. Once the final embers ceased to glow, he used a sweeping charm to distribute the ash in the lake. Strangely enough, he felt completely calm and at peace, as the last of ash found its way into the water.

The question of who should name him and what his name ought to be, Cole decided was inconsequential until he finished the heritage test to prove his Peverell descent. For now, if he had to sign any other official documents, his blood would do as his signature. Perhaps, as it felt right to him, he'd write to Potter. Just a simple note with the two names Professor Cornfoot had come up with and a brief question that asked which the traitor preferred.

Cole scowled. He didn't like it, but it had to be done. His father needed to have a say in his new name.

Cole quickly gathered his loot in his bag and checked his reflection for any blood he might have missed. Once he'd ascertained that he was as about as clean as he was going to get, he turned his back on the Cove and begun the trek back up to the castle. Stephen and Anthony were probably worried out of their minds by now. He just hope they were covering for him with Professor Cornfoot.

–

After another blow out argument with Professor Cornfoot – this time about him disappearing for hours on end – and several apologies Stephen and Anthony for staying out all night, Cole managed to sequester himself in a private corner of the library. He waisted no time in digging out a fresh leaflet of parchment, ink, and a quill.

Potter,

You'll understand the truth of who I am and why I'm writing to you soon enough. Black already weighed in his opinion on the matter of my name … somewhat at least, while Demetrius Cornfoot and I met with him. I want your opinion if you'd be so inclined to give it. I've been made to understand that my name isn't something to be taken lightly. The one I was born with no long serves me, as I've been living under a different name for the last decade and didn't know who I was or what I was. Again, you'll understand why I'm telling you this and turning to you for your opinion very soon.

Pick:

Hadar Adrastos

or

Nikolaus Adrastos

Cornfoot is insistent on Adrastos. He believes the name will serve me. I'm sure Black is partial to Hadar, as it is more traditional to his family. I like Nikolaus. You're opinion will be the tie breaker, which is fitting I suppose.

Sincerely,

Me

P. S. This doesn't mean I want to get to know you or like you or anything.

P. P. S. Just so we're clear. After what you did to her, you deserve to freeze your balls off day in and day out.