Disclaimer—I don't own and I seriously don't make any money from this . . . sadly.

Note—I will be calling Harry "Hadrian" from now on. (Promise to try to not slip up . . . Promise.) However, this does not exclude Hadrian from referring to his previous life and self as Harry Potter. (Not sure why I have to mention it, but I wanted to prevent as much confusion as possible.)

Yes, I know that Hadrian's ability to speak one or two words may seem a little fast to you, but I explain it as best I can. (Also, he demanded that it was time. And yes, I will explain what happened to cause Harry's muteness.) And just as a little heads-up, I don't know why I was channeling Snape with the goblin that Harry talks with, but I was. *shrugs*

CHAPTER THREE

The morning held many things that would have woken Hadrian up, but it was the sound of birds chirping that was responsible for the disturbance in his sleep. It was not because the chirping was loud or irritating that caused him to wake up. Instead, it was the peaceful and normality of such a sound that calmly eased Hadrian from his slumber. The sound was like classical music to his ears, gentle as a feather and soothing. He found peace in the birds' noises and just laid there on his back, wondering if he could somehow listen to it forever.

Hadrian couldn't recall the last time he had enjoyed and soaked in morning chirps of birds. He had lost track of time inside of that dungeon-like room in the ministry so he couldn't give an honest estimate. Was it a month? It had to be at least a month for it could feel no shorter and he disliked considering the possibility of his captivity lasting longer than a month and closer to a year. He momentarily entertained the idea of biting the bullet and asking Death how long it had been, but he truthfully didn't want to know. What was the point besides torturing himself with lost time? No, if he were to really be Hadrian Peverell, then he needed to let go and not dwell on his life as Harry Potter.

This life was new and untouched by tragedy and pain. Why taint its purity so soon and at all? Hadrian didn't need to do that and really shouldn't. He needed this to be good, to be better than what he left behind. After all, if it wasn't better and good, what would be the point of sacrificing his life as Harry Potter?

With renewed investment in his new life, Hadrian sat up and noted that he did not ache as much as he had the previous day. It had been easier to sit up on his own and as he moved, his body did not protest as much. This clear improvement brought a smile to Hadrian's lips and a sigh of relief. At this rate, he would not take too long to heal and have to depend on Auntie for a quick trip to the bathroom. However, he was unsure as to what he would do first when he regained the ability to move on his own. Seeing as he was told that the goblins would have all the information that he would need for this life, Hadrian thought it would be best to do that first. Though he could not deny his first instinct to lie in a field somehow under a cloudless sky. It was certainly a waste of time and would accomplish nothing of importance, but Hadrian craved the simplest of things that he had been denied for so long. He wanted to experience a warm summer's breeze caressing his cheeks and threading through his hair. He desired to spend an entire day doing nothing at all, but lazing about in half a dozen differing locations. He wanted simplicity that he had never gotten before.

But Hadrian was not a child. He knew that logically a trip to the bank was required to be best informed and to settle into this world. It was there he would get all the information he needed and start to learn to be Hadrian Peverell truly. There was also the matter of his wand and the Hallows.

Just thinking about being wandless caused distress in Hadrian's system. Though he had mastered a few handy spells wandlessly, it did not mean that he could survive in a duel without his beloved first wand or the Elder Wand. Having at least one of the wands in his possession would greatly ease his nerves so the bank would have to be his first destination once he was able. Lying about or enjoying simple things would have to wait until then.

"Ah, you're already up, Baby Deer? I was so sure that you would fall back into your eternal slumber," Auntie teased over the creaking of the bedroom door and the clunking of silverware on the tray she was holding.

Before Hadrian had a chance to crack a smile or nod his head, a pop rang and a house elf appeared at Auntie's side.

"Mistress is not to be carrying meals!" the house elf scowled at Auntie, making grabby hands for the tray. "The Healer said so, Mistress, and Mistress must be obeying his orders or young Master will be sad."

Auntie scoffed, but let the house elf take the tray from her. "I think you mean irritated, Tippy. My son thinks that I'm an infant or a toddler of some sort. Why else would he think that I need so much looking after?"

"Tippy thinks Mistress is forgetting what trouble she got into during her school years . . . and afters," Tippy mumbled good naturally as she gave Hadrian the tray. "Now, mister, please don't be like Mistress and listen to orders. Stay in bed like a good boy."

Hadrian blinked and nodded dumbly as Tippy disappeared, unsure as how to interact with this strange house elf. She didn't act like other house elves that he was used to in Hogwarts, but there was a bit of similarity in her actions that reminded him of his own two house elves. It was this likeness that distracted him and caused an ache in his heart. While he knew that Dobby had died and he had buried his elf friend, Hadrian was unsure of Kreacher's fate. Had the elf been killed? Or was the poor house elf still home, awaiting a master that would never return? Either option did not lessen Hadrian's pain.

Auntie brought him back to the present. "You better eat while the food's warm, Baby Deer. Don't want to have to call Tippy back, now do we?"

Harry's lips twitched in response to her teasing as he picked up his fork, digging into the scrambled eggs.

"Now that's better," Auntie mused before jumping right into her chatterbox mode as Hadrian ate.

Much like yesterday, he didn't find her chattering annoying and it instead eased his subconscious grief and guilt. Between her gentle voice, the tasty food he was eating, and the extremely fluffy pillows supporting his body, Hadrian almost couldn't remember why he had been upset just minutes ago. Almost.

Despite how he enjoyed Auntie talking, he couldn't shake off the image of Kreacher staring at the front door like a pet dog eagerly waiting for his master to return. This image invoked a vague sensation of claws in his heart, tearing slowly and carefully the more he pondered Kreacher's fate in his original world. And it sparked a dangerous flicker of doubt in Hadrian. Though he had known for certain that his beloved friends were deceased and that many of the people he knew were buried six feet under, what if Hadrian had left behind loved ones who would never know what happened to him? What if he had been wrong about the deaths of the people he knew? What if there had still been people for him in his original world? What if now because he had left, they would have to mourn him?

Hadrian swallowed a mouthful of eggs along with the bitterness that arose in his mouth. No, Hadrian was glorifying the truth now. He wasn't remembering clearly, that he knew. There had been no one left for him and no life for him as a person on the run. The sad thing was that he had left absolutely nothing behind worth regretting. With the ministry clearly not in control of their Unspeakables and the murders he had committed, Hadrian had lost only a chance of mimicking the life of Sirius Black on the run. There was nothing else left to mourn or feel an ounce of regret for leaving behind.

Except Kreacher. That was the one thing that would haunt him in this new world.

Lost in his thoughts, Hadrian's ears didn't catch the hoot of an owl until it was perched on his blanket-covered leg and he felt the faintest prick of its sharp talons. Upon noticing the dark-colored owl, he dropped his fork and retrieved the letter that bared his new name with beautiful cursive in black ink. He wondered for a moment who wrote to him until he saw Gringotts Bank plastered on the letter and it answered whatever question he could have. Death said that he had taken care of things and that the goblins would answer his questions about his new identity. That had to be what the letter was about, most likely telling him to meet them as soon as possible.

Hadrian opened the letter, casting the envelope with little interest and focused his attention on skimming the letter's contents for anything important. Hadrian shrugged to himself when he was finished and mentally acknowledged that he had been correct about the letter's intentions. He had nothing to worry about except a quick response to notify the goblins of when he could meet them. While he considered how long it would take him to heal, Auntie's hand slipped over the blankets and grabbed the envelope, hungrily taking in the name.

"So your name is Hadrian Peverell," Auntie said, her gray eyes speaking of thoughts that Hadrian had no information on. "That ends that mystery, I suppose. However, I must admit that I thought you were maybe an Edward or Leopold. Hadrian suits you, though."

She paused, her eyes staring back at Hadrian and searching for something only she knew. It made him feel somewhat uncomfortable, but thought perhaps the reason behind it was his last name. There was no mistaking that it was the surname of an esteemed pureblood family and if Auntie was a pureblood, she was most likely attempting to recalling ever hearing his name in England before. It was not uncommon to do so as Hadrian had witnessed a great deal of purebloods doing this. It was almost like they were sizing up the person when doing so and engraving that person's status in their memory to remember if they were related or spouse materiel.

"Actually, I think that I knew your mother," Auntie murmured, her hands limp in her lap as her eyes were unfocused. "I didn't know her, Bellona Peverell, that well, but my son did. I always wondered if they would marry with the way they carried on. I think they would have if not for the war."

Hadrian didn't know how to respond. He wasn't sure what his mother's name was in this world so he wasn't sure if Auntie was talking about his new mother or not. It was most likely best to remain silent. Auntie seemed to be lost in her memories and probably didn't expect him to reply anyway.

Auntie's attention refocused on Hadrian's face and she squinted, tilting her head as she did so. "Now that I think about it, it's been fourteen years or so . . . Maybe . . ."

There was moment of silence as she simply stared at Hadrian before she abruptly stood up and moved to leave the room.

"Excuse me, Baby Deer," she said loudly. "I have something to check on, something very important. I'll be back shortly."

The door didn't slam behind her, but there was a noticeable bit of force put into closing the door. Hadrian was curious as what had sparked something in her, but couldn't be bothered as the owl bit his finger to remind him of the response it required.

"Got it," Hadrian very quietly forced out after wordlessly practicing the words in his mouth, struggling through the mental pain. He would have to continue to practice speaking if he was to survive Hogwarts and not be branded a mute. What better time to start than with a bird that can't judge you?

Two days passed and it was the third Hadrian was certain that he had been correct to tell the goblins he would meet them in four days. He was physically able to walk on his own and there was little to no pain. He might have felt inclined to meet them today if not Auntie's insistence that he give his body this last day since he had already agreed on a day. It wouldn't look very good for his character, she had told him. She had argued the goblins might take offense to suddenly changing his mind and coming a day early when they're already prepared for the next day. Though her argument was a bit flimsy in Hadrian's eyes, he couldn't ignore the excellent point she had made. Not to mention she was still searching for something and it had captured his curiosity. It had to be of grave importance for her to spend so much combing her manor for it, not that she would reveal what the object was or her reasons for needing it so desperately at the moment.

"I found it!" Auntie cheered as she twirled as much as her elderly body would allow her, grinning all the while. "I finally found it, Baby Deer."

Hadrian gave her a small smile, easing back into his comfortable chair that resided in her sitting room. He licked his lips and formed the word he wanted to say, but his voice was a breath above a whisper. "Good."

Though he considered this one of his poor results, no one could deny that he hadn't been trying his best and he had. He had spent these last two days practicing forming his words again and actually attempting to get his body to cooperate in using his voice. He had found some improvement with single-worded answers, but was dismayed that it still required so much effort to say a single word to another human being. Hadrian imagined that it was because of the trauma he had endured with his capturers and what they had done to him to enforce his silence, but that didn't mean that he could go on that way. He wanted to get better and though he knew that just being able to say one word was leaps and bounds ahead of where he had started, he would have to be much better to survive his classes at Hogwarts.

Combine this with the sinking notion that he was certain that his muteness would be worse to control among people he didn't know or trust and that this progress may be due to Auntie being backed by Death, Hadrian was worried that he might have to postpone going to Hogwarts until next year. If he were given a year to recover and heal his emotional and mental scars, then he would be better prepared and ready to being swarmed by young students. Probably.

"Now all is left to do is kill my son," Auntie mused darkly, her grin remaining on her face as she began twirling out of the room. She stopped, however, and turned to Hadrian with a pout on her lips. "Though I suppose I should confirm before I do something so drastic."

Hadrian's eyebrows furrowed, but did not attempt to speak again.

"Hadrian, be a dear and hand me the book on the table next to you."

This request served to only deepen his confusion, but nevertheless he wordlessly picked up the thick book and held it in front of him. Auntie made no effort to cross the room to retrieve the book, however, and instead beamed at him, her pout melting into a large smile.

"Oh, how wonderful, Baby Deer!" she crowed, clapping her hands with happiness that left Hadrian stumped. "I've changed my mind. My son can wait, but you can't. You're leaving in the morning after all and I'm not sure when I'll be able to talk with you again. So let's chat away the day, shall we?"

When Hadrian nodded in befuddled agreement, Auntie called for her beloved house elf. "Tippy."

"Yes, Mistress?" Tippy warily asked, most likely worried if Auntie would demand to find some other hidden item in the manor's large attic.

"Please put the tapestry somewhere safe and in a place where I won't forget about. Perhaps in my room? I don't want to have this to slip my mind. Don't you agree?" Auntie idly asked Tippy, walking to join Hadrian in the chair next to him.

"Yes, Mistress." The elf's relief was plain, but Auntie either didn't notice or simply didn't point it out.

"Now, Baby Deer," Auntie started, patting his hand and ignoring the slight flinch that echoed throughout his body. "I was wondering if you had ever tried an omelet with ketchup before . . ."

And with this bizarre conversation starter, Hadrian knew he was in for a particularly odd last day with Auntie.

The next morning's early rays of sunlight warmed Hadrian's back as he sauntered into Gringotts Wizarding Bank, perfectly blending into the morning crowd with the clothes that Auntie had lent him. They were simple wizard robes, but tasteful and easily something that a humble pureblood would wear. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, having been a half-blood in his previous world and unsure as what his next blood status was. Nevertheless, he was grateful and would be sending Auntie the clothes back as soon as he purchased a new wardrobe for himself.

Thinking of Auntie lifted the corners of his mouth. She had been tearful just a few minutes previously, but released him with a promise that he would stay in touch and the mutterings of needing to write to someone else herself. He had given his word despite privately wondering if he would truly do so. She had helped him greatly and he had grown a bit fond of her, but communicating via letters required something that he wasn't sure if he wanted: an owl. With Hedwig's death, Hadrian wasn't eager to once again bond with such an animal. Her death had left a scar on his heart and her memory still brought tears to his eyes. So this left his promise hanging by a feathery thread.

However, that was not an issue that he had to deal with right at the moment so Hadrian would revisit it when he bought his school items.

Sweeping thoughts of an owl under the rug, Hadrian walked up to the nearest goblin whose name he didn't know. He licked his lips when the goblin's beady eyes peered over its glasses and Hadrian fought to form words. He had practiced his new name continuously and relentlessly, determined to be able to say his name when it was required to do so. He had been successful in Auntie's manor a few times, each a little less painful and a bit easier than the last.

"Hadrian Peverell," he murmured, his voice still soft from the long disuse, but just loud enough for the goblin's ears.

The goblin's eyes flashed. "I see. Come with me."

Hadrian followed the goblin into a private office who presumably belonged to the other goblin sitting behind the desk. He waited patiently as the two goblins whispered to one another in a language that he assumed was their native language and watched as the goblin who had led him there exited the room. Once the door shut and sealed with a clunk, the goblin folded his hands on his desk and gestured to the chairs.

"Sit, Mr. Peverell," the goblin barked more than said, but Hadrian didn't let the tone bother him. After all, goblins did have a reputation for being gruff and hard rather than being cuddly.

Hadrian nodded, sitting in the chair whose cushion had more in common with a rock than a pillow. He didn't let his polite smile and air dissipate, however, and instead maintain them, knowing that goblins could find insult in the littlest of things. It wouldn't be wise to offend the people who had his things and money, now would it?

"Now, before we start with explaining your new identity and all that implies, Death has deemed it necessary to give you a . . . history lesson of sorts and our deal with him as goblins leaves me unable to deny this request," the goblin sneered before diving into his so-called history lesson. "After briefly learning your world's political climate and history, I have determined that there are a few basic things you must be aware of if you are to assimilate to this world. One: Lord Voldemort is a name unfamiliar to us and we never experienced him as a Dark Lord, though the wizarding world had suffered Grindelwald as a Dark Lord in the past."

A sigh of relief escaped Hadrian's mouth. Knowing that there was absolutely zero chance of experiencing Voldemort's terrorist attacks and wars eased his nerves. He truly would never have to deal with that madman again like he had dreamed for so long. On the topic of Grindelwald, however, that was something that didn't worry him because the goblin made it clear that the man was either dead or had been dealt with. There would be no Dark Lord to destroy his future this time.

The goblin continued. "Two: the prophecy, though dealing with a differing Dark Lord, was spoken and affected young Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. However, this did not result in the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Potter and the torturing of Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom like in your previous life. They were in turn marked much like you had by Lord Voldemort and came out unscathed."

Hadrian's eyes widened, soundless words bubbling in his mouth as his mind soared to connect dots. The goblin had said that Lord Voldemort had not come to be in this world so why was there still a prophecy? From what Hadrian had experienced as Harry Potter, with a prophecy usually came with a villain. So who was Harry and Neville's? Who were they fated to defeat if not Lord Voldemort?

A stone of dread sank in his stomach. The existence of this prophecy meant that this world wasn't safe and was instead doomed to undergo a war that he wasn't familiar with. Memories of blood and ash swirled in his mind, sending shockwaves throughout his system that resulted in his hands shaking. He didn't want to witness the horrors of magical war again. He didn't want to connect with people only to have them fall and bleed out in his arms. He didn't want to go through the trauma, the agony, and the grief that was unavoidable in times of war. This had not been his desire when he was offered a new start. Not at all.

The goblin noticed Hadrian's shaking hands and went on to clarify. "Worry not, Mr. Peverell. The Dark Lord that the prophecy spoke fell the night he attacked Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom and has been deemed deceased. He will not darken the streets of magical England ever again."

Those words eased the dread and fear constricting his heart, but Hadrian couldn't help drawing comparisons to what people had said about Voldemort to this other Dark Lord. Everyone had been so sure that Voldemort was gone forever and rejoiced only to have him rise again. So how he be certain that this other Dark Lord was truly dead and buried? The simplest answer was that he couldn't and would rather remain vigilant so he wouldn't be caught off-guard. However, he wouldn't have this uncertainty rule his new life here to the point that he was shaken by every sudden noise. Hadrian would have to find a balance if he were to have a fulfilling life at Hogwarts and beyond.

Satisfied with Hadrian's reaction to his words, the goblin continued with item number three on his list. "Three: the political atmosphere is somewhat dissimilar to the one you are accustomed to. This particularly applies to citizens' stances on Dark and Light magic. To put it plainly, Dark doesn't equal evil as it did in your world." The goblin paused, pondering something before speaking. "I suggest you research this as soon as possible so that you aren't caught off guard or unaware in this world. There are textbooks that can elaborate this subject much better than I can and care to."

This was curious to Hadrian, but shrugged it off, surrendering to this knowledge. He couldn't really pass judgement on the subject when he didn't know how the Dark and Light sides worked in this new world.

"The fourth item on the list is once again unlike in your world, creatures and the magical community have a better relationship. This is enforced with treaties and creatures having positions of relative power in the ministry. However, this is rather recent so there is still a stigma surrounding creatures. I would suggest refraining from being turned to avoid the spotlight."

Upon seeing Hadrian's curious expression, the goblin sneered. "Again, Mr. Peverell, I suggest that if you wish to hear more, research it at home. I don't have the time to go into decades of political struggle and their somewhat recent breakthrough in the government. We still have to go over accepting your lordship, background, and your mother's will. So why don't we get started with those things, shall we?"

Slightly disappointed, Hadrian nodded and the goblin picked up the papers in front of him.

"Excellent. Now you already know your new name, I'm assuming?" the goblin asked, seeing Hadrian nod again. "Very well. So normally you would be accepting your position as the Peverell Heir, but since Lady Peverell is deceased and there is no one else to take your place until you are of age, the title of Lord falls to you. However, because you are underage, you require a guardian despite your Lord status."

Hadrian's eyebrows furrowed, visibly confused. He had no background with heirs and lords of houses so he was quite lost in what the goblin was trying to convey.

The goblin sighed. "To put it plainly, the Lord is the head of the household and family and has power over his family members in terms of who they are allowed to marry and so forth. The Heir or Heiress is the child who will inherit the title of Lord and is trained to understand their future responsibilities. Understand?"

Hadrian's head bobbled.

"Good. Now despite the fact that you will be Lord Peverell in a few moments, you are still a child and require a guardian or a parent until you are seventeen. This person will have say over where you live and other similar things like all parents and guardians, but the difference lies in your status. Since you will be Lord Peverell, you will be able to vote in the ministry as you wish and have final say in who your new guardian is or isn't," the goblin explained. "Also, because the ministry will be busy elsewhere this year, it is safe to say that they will not notice your lack of a guardian until next summer. This leaves you some time to find a suitable guardian yourself should you deny your father the right."

Hadrian eyes widened and he struggled a minute before he was able to produce words. "My . . . father?"

"Yes, your father," the goblin said irritably. "You do know who he is, don't you?"

Hadrian shook his head.

The goblin sighed. "I take it that Lady Peverell's will will tell you such information. If not, I will take care of notifying you afterwards. Now let's get on with you accepting the lordship."

The goblin picked up an enchanted, small box off his desk and opened it, offering the elegant, gold ring to him. "Take it and put it on your right index finger. If it stays, you will be the new Lord Peverell. It will disappear if you are not."

Hadrian eyed the onyx stone in the ring as he gently took the ring out of the box, hesitating for a moment before slipping it on. While he wasn't sure what a lord did or the duties of one, he knew that such power would be helpful for his future. Most witches and wizards tended to avoid angering people with power and a pureblood name to back them up.

After a moment, the ring grew warm on his finger and Hadrian felt as if he had been embraced warmth itself, leaving him feeling protected from the world. The goblin snapped the box close upon seeing the ring's acceptance of Hadrian and put it away in one of the many drawers in his desk. He gave the boy a minute before he decided to continue their business.

"Now that we have dealt with that, Lord Peverell, we must discuss your background. You are a pureblood and have been trained as such. Lady Peverell, despite being slightly eccentric compared to other pureblood women, was quite adamant that you were act like a pureblood. However, you do not remember your childhood as we suspected so Death said that he would take care of that issue once you have arrived at Peverell Manor," the goblin explained, wanting to ignore Hadrian's wide eyes, but knew that it was required information to know. "To put it simply, Lord Peverell, Death was able to give you thirteen blissful years without remembering your previous life, but with your previous memories unlocked, they have in turn smothered your memories of your life here. As I have stated previously, Death will help you in this matter."

Hadrian wanted a moment to soak in this information, but the goblin relentlessly continued without batting an eye. "With that out of the way, let's read Lady Peverell's will."

Hadrian blinked dumbly as the goblin began to read his new mother's will, almost absentmindedly listening to the goblin's words. He had a vague recollection that she had left everything to him with the exception of donations to charities and the hospital. There were words of comfort and love for him in the conclusion, but Hadrian had little connection to the woman and therefore was left with a vague notion of her. It did not help that he was struggling with the fact that instead of being in this world for a week, he had actually been completely reborn and had spent years here without any knowledge of his previous life. Hadrian felt strange knowing that he apparently had some kind of amnesia. It threw him through a loop that he hadn't prepared for.

But then something caught his attention.

"It says here that your father is Thomas Marvolo Gaunt," goblin mused, eyes squinting at the paper before rolling it back up and nodding to himself. "I had forgotten about that. I will have to adjust the records now that she has deemed it necessary."

The name of his apparent father stuck out to Hadrian, tickling a memory that was hazy and vague in meaning. He knew that the Gaunts in his previous world had ended with Lord Voldemort, but that knowledge could not be applied to this world. The family must have straightened themselves out and mingled with other pureblood families. It was bizarre that he was now considered a Gaunt. Would that mean he was still a parselmouth?

"Here is your key to the Peverell vault and the location of your family manor. The first time you Apparate there, your family ring will guide you," the goblin explained.

Hadrian gingerly held his key and sealed it away in a spelled-pocket, protected against pickpockets and accidental losings. He quickly read over the location of his new manor and hoped that it was in the middle of nowhere. It would give him much needed space and privacy as he came to terms with his new life as Hadrian Peverell.

"Ah, yes, there is the topic of your admittance into Hogwarts," the goblin grumbled, eager to finish. "Simply put, you are a student there, but you will be subjected to tests to see if you are at a third year's level. Your tests will be taken tomorrow morning at the school and a teacher will be there to take you there at eight o'clock. Understand, Lord Peverell?"

Harry nodded, a brief smile gracing his lips. Though Hogwarts held memories of terror and pain, it was also his first home and he was eager to feel its warm embrace again.

He eyed Hadrian's nod before he glanced over all of his paperwork. "We're done here, Lord Peverell," the goblin announced after a couple of minutes, making a shooing motion with his hands.

However, when Hadrian stood up to leave, the goblin cursed and handed him a scrap piece of paper. "I almost forgot. Make sure to go to the Prince Apothecary shop and pick up your order. It's to help with your . . . speaking condition. It has been known to help those who have been held under the silence spell for a long period of time. Oh, and it has been paid for already."

Hadrian's neck tensed, taking longer than usual to speak. "You . . . know?"

The goblin scoffed. "Of course. Just because you have a new body does not mean you are able to escape the spell's lingering effects. When a wizard's or witch's body and magic are subdued like so, it imprints on their core and it takes more than time to overcome it."

Hadrian averted his gaze as he couldn't help the overwhelming shame that itched under his skin.

The goblin ignored this. "Lord Peverell, keep in mind that the potion will not erase the psychological damage and will only help your ability to speak, not completely rid yourself of the obstacle." The goblin waited a moment for Hadrian to nod and then he once again shooed. "Now leave my office. I do have other tasks other than speaking to you."

The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall echoed the dazzling summer morning outside of the castle walls as the teachers of Hogwarts settled down for breakfast. With the new school year only twenty-four days away, the staff had to prepare their classrooms and become accustomed to living in the castle again, kissing their time off goodbye. The teachers would glance over their class material, adjusting just a couple of lessons here and there for new information recently announced or a way to mix up their classes. It was not a major reason to return to the school over three weeks early, but it was one of the smaller reasons to do so. It was among reconnecting with their fellow professors and look over the year's new wave of first years. In other words, it was a time of preparing with a good dose of gossiping.

"I heard we're getting an older student, Minerva," Professor Sprout said as she lifted her glass of pumpkin juice.

Professor McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "Pray tell, Pomona, where you heard such a thing? Are you having Peeves eavesdrop? Or perhaps one of the ghosts?"

Professor Sprout waved off her colleague's insignificant questions. "It doesn't matter. Is it true? Everyone's dying to know."

"Everyone?" Minerva echoed, leaning forward to at a look at all of her coworkers at the table.

One of the only teachers that met her stern gaze was Professor Flitwick who grinned unapologetically. "I was a Ravenclaw. A thirst for knowledge is in my blood. And is that a lack of denial?"

"So it's true?" the History of Magic teacher questioned, vaguely curious.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "You're like children, I swear. Are you certain you're adults?"

"She's still not denying it," Professor Sprout sang, smiling all the while.

Professor McGonagall dug into her breakfast with a fork. "Albus should be here shortly. He will tell you what you wish to know."

The moment that she finished speaking, the Headmaster of the school sauntered in and sat down at the table. "Good morning, Minerva, Pomona, Filius, and Marvolo. What is today's most recent gossip? Something juicy I should hope?"

Professor McGonagall glared at Professor Dumbledore. "Please get on with it, Albus. They somehow already know a bit about what's going on, but not the full details."

Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Ah, I see. Well, first off, the new boy's name is Hadrian Peverell and he will be joining the third years granted he—"

"Peverell? As in the Peverells?" Professor Sprout interrupted. "As in the Peverells that no one has seen in over a decade? That went into hiding during the war?"

"That is just a rumor, Pomona," Professor Flitwick dismissed, but appearing a bit unsure. "They may have gone abroad during the war with Grindelwald. Many families did. And there is no evidence that they needed to go into complete hiding."

"As I was saying," Professor Dumbledore said over Pomona's response to have her quieten down. "He will need to be tested as he was homeschooled prior to his admittance here. The tests will take place here tomorrow at eight in the morning. However, I will need a volunteer to pick him up and escort him back here."

There was a heartbeat of silence before someone spoke up.

"I will."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "Very well, Tom. Now onto preparing your tests . . ."

The History of Magic teacher listened with barely half of his attention as he pondered over Hadrian Peverell. He had not heard the name Peverell in a great many years, fourteen years to be exact. When Bellona Peverell went into hiding for a reason Marvolo couldn't name, the name was never uttered again in his presence and could be heard in only rumors. The name Peverell had weight behind and in it, setting fire to people's minds when they could no longer be found. As far as Marvolo knew, Bellona had been the last Peverell and so he imagined that this boy had to be her son.

The thought of his ex-fiancée falling into bed with another man made his blood boil and his heart ache, but there was no blame that he could throw at others. Marvolo had made difficult decisions and that applied to Bellona as well, leaving them in dissimilar places and alone. He had chosen to stay in Britain and fight with all of might and cunning while she had gone in the opposite direction, fleeing to fade into obscurity. While he had not blamed her, he regretted being unable to persuade her to his side of reasoning and convincing her to stay if only for him. There had so many fights and obstacles for them to be together as a romantic couple for them to break apart like that.

It was sad and regretful, but maybe he could mend their relationship to at least a friendship. If there was no husband in the way, then perhaps he and Bellona could better it further into a reflection of what they once had.

As Marvolo thought over his memories of his ex-lover and the other professors discussed Hadrian's tests, a familiar owl swept through the Great Hall and landed in front of Marvolo with a letter offered. Marvolo took notice of the gray owl and mentally prepared himself for whatever his mother had written to him about now. He retrieved the letter and, as always, the owl did not fly away. His mother was a bit childish in that she demanded to receive an immediate response from her darling son and would not give into his excuses.

Careful to not tear the letter, he opened the piece of paper and braced himself for an outlandish request or idea from his mother. Instead, as Marvolo began to read his mother's words, he came to the realization that contents were not like he had expected of a typical letter from his mother. What had gotten instead was a letter of accusation.

His mind whirled as certain sentences stood out to him.

How could you keep my grandchild from me—

Why didn't you ever tell me—

Hadrian Peverell, the son of Bellona Peverell and you—

The Family Tapestry never lies—

You have a lot of explaining to do, mister—

Marvolo didn't know what to think about the accusation his mother had thrown at him. His first instinct was to deny that he had a son with Bellona, but it electrocuted a deep-seeded memory that was faint at best. He couldn't recall any images or anything of importance, only a hushed voice of familiar honey.

"Will you do this for me, Thomas?"

Bellona's voice was a mere whisper in his ears, but he heard it all the same. The memory voice continued, reminding Marvolo of things he had long forgotten for a reason he couldn't name.

"You won't be able to remember, not unless I . . . die or he needs your protection. Can you do that? Can you?"

"Yes."

". . . Thank you."

Marvolo couldn't remember anymore no matter how much he mentally searched in his organized mind. It was frustrating to say the least, but he didn't let it show. He was the Heir of Slytherin, of course, and therefore was the perfect example of such. He had a cool façade, never revealing how much his mother's letter and hint of an old memory had affected him. He finished his breakfast at a normal pace no matter how much he burned for answers and retreated to his quarters, wondering what he should next.

After minutes of contemplating his next move, Marvolo decided that if he had willingly blocked out memories to complete a favor for Bellona, then either he or Bellona would have secured a way for him to remember again. There were a number of ways to accomplish this, but the safest way that he could think of was entrusting the goblins. They were excellent secret keepers, cunning in a way to make the smartest Slytherin burn with envy.

Marvolo's eyes burned with determination as he held Floo powder in his hands. "Diagon Alley!"

A/N—Published on 7-10-17.