Hadrian sat alone on the bus to Charing Cross Road, all the while sneering at the pathetic muggles chattering around him. Muggles…he quite liked the word. It had a feeling of derogation that was appropriate of their status. He smirked to himself. When the driver announced that they had arrived, he got off, not bothering to mask the relief at being released from the company of snot-nosed teary-eyed brats.

According to Dumbledore, he simply had to enter the Leaky Cauldron, something muggles could not see. He was slightly disheartened that what he had expected to be a grand castle of sorts was simply a dingy little pub. Scowling, he made his way inside. He quickly readjusted his face into the most innocent one he could make, even managing a few tears, and approached the bartender.

"Hello mister," Hadrian sniffled, feeling disgusted and promising to himself never to use this as a tactic again. "My parents got lost in Diagon Alley and now I don't know where they are! Can you help me?" Hadrian was quite proud of his acting, to say so himself.

The bartender looked at him and fell for it immediately. "Of course, lad! My name is Tom. Come on, I'll open the entrance for you."

Hadrian was hard-pressed to hold back a sly smile as he followed Tom to a wall of bricks. He tapped a series of bricks with his wand, and Hadrian memorized it immediately. When the entrance opened, Hadrian had to control his expression to prevent himself from doing something so plebian as looking around with awe.

Thanking Tom, he made his way to the bank first. What he saw there truly made his jaw drop, just for a second. Goblins! Real goblins! Quite ferocious ones too! As he entered the bank, he noticed a goblin with a long, sharp-toothed sword that he held menacingly, and glared at Hadrian as if he was scum on the bottom of its shoe.

Hadrian was angered. He had put up with ridicule at the orphanage. He would not stand for it in the wizarding world as well. Hadrian let a little bit of the power – the magic – he had loose toward the goblin, and saw it shudder, almost dropping its sword, and looking straight at him with fear in its eyes. But, there was something else. Respect.

The goblin nodded towards Hadrian, and escorted him personally to the teller. Around him, he heard people fall silent, looking towards him and wondering why in the world a mere boy in ragged clothing was being escorted by a goblin, a race known to hate humans with a passion. Hadrian smirked as he felt the stares around him. This was where he was meant to be.

The goblin bowed toward him, and walked back to its post. Hadrian looked toward the teller.

"Greetings," he said politely to the teller. After all, it would not do to alienate the people that kept his money.

The teller, who had seen the interaction between the veteran goblin and this tiny boy, was shocked at this boy's polite tone.

"Hello, sir. What is your name?"

"Hadrian Potter," he replied.

The goblin gasped. "Hadrian…Potter?" His eyes quickly flicked up to his forehead and back, and he quickly regained his professionalism, pulling himself back together.

"Well, we'll have to verify that, of course. Please follow me into a more secure room, Mr. Potter," the goblin stated. Confused, but hiding the emotions from his face, Hadrian followed the goblin into a room with threatening padlocks on it. Entering the room, Hadrian saw an official looking goblin sitting at a table. He observed the room, and the teller left, having conversed with the goblin.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter. My name is Griphook, and I am the official handler of the Potter vaults," stated Griphook. "Before we begin, would you please spill a few drops of your blood on this paper to confirm your identity?" Hadrian took the proffered knife and cut his hand without any hesitation, concentrating his magic on the spot to heal the cut. Griphook looked impressed, but hid it well.

The goblin took the paper as a list of finances began appearing on it. He whistled.

"Well, Mr. Potter, may I just say that you are possibly one of the richest people in Britain at the moment!" Griphook exclaimed.

Hadrian accepted the paper, and gaped in a completely undignified manner at the number at the bottom of the sheet. He had never seen so many zeros in his life.

"Mr. Griphook…I mean…" Hadrian stumbled over his words, then closed his eyes and put his mask back on before continuing. "How is this money all mine?"

Griphook chuckled. "Well, of course, Mr. Potter, you are the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"The Boy-Who-What?"

Griphook had a look of horror on his face. "Don't tell me that you don't know anything about your own history, Mr. Potter!"

Hadrian was getting slightly irritated with the way Griphook was insulting his intelligence. "What exactly are you speaking of, Mr. Griphook?" he said with a slight sneer.

Quickly catching on to Hadrian's growing irritation, Griphook quickly explained. "Mr. Potter, I never dreamed that I would be the one to tell you, but you are famous in our world."

Hadrian stared. "Excuse me?"

"Ten years ago, on Halloween, a dark wizard by the name of...Voldemort," here, Griphook shuddered, "attacked your parents' home. Your mother and father died by Voldemort's hand, but for some reason, when Voldemort turned his wand on you and uttered the killing curse, it backfired and killed him instead. To date, you are the only one to survive the killing curse. You are a hero in the wizarding world, Mr. Potter!"

Hadrian's mind was racing. He was famous? Well, he could certainly do quite a bit with that information. But…"Mr. Griphook, if I am famous, then why did I end up at a Muggle orphanage?"

Here, Griphook snarled. "You ended up at a Muggle orphanage? You, the Boy-Who-Lived, with filthy Muggles?" Griphook's anger seemed to be mounting. "Your magical guardian was supposed to take you in!"

Hadrian's eyes flashed. "Who, exactly," he asked, "is my magical guardian?"

Griphook flinched from the cold tone in the boy's voice. He quickly took out his file and found one name printed at the top. "Your magical guardian is Albus Dumbledore, Mr. Potter."

Hadrian began shaking in anger. The same Dumbledore that had come to the orphanage? That was the man that condemned him to a life with pathetic Muggles? And would be his future Headmaster?

"Is there any way to relieve myself of his guardianship?" Hadrian asked, his magic pulsating around him.

Griphook's eyes were wide at the power he saw pouring from this child. He vowed to stay by this child, for he would do great things in the future. "Yes, Mr. Potter, there is," he replied. "You can either find a new magical guardian, or emancipate yourself magically. In the latter case, you will still be considered a minor by the Ministry of Magic, but no one will be able to touch your vaults unless you give them access."

Hadrian nodded. "That sounds acceptable, Mr. Griphook. What am I to do?"

JIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJIDJID

Hadrian exited the bank with four new rings on his fingers and a bag full of money, which he quickly fastened to himself. He made his way first to the robe store. He had seen the looks that some of the witches and wizards had given him, and wanted – no, needed – to make them regret it.

Hadrian entered Madam Malkin's Robe Shop, and quickly flagged down an attendant.

"Hello madam," he said, sounding as aristocratic as he could attempt. "I would like to purchase a full wardrobe, please."

He watched as her eyes grew to the eyes of saucers. "Yes, sir, that would be possible. Please stand up on this stool. Do you have any preferences?"

Hadrian pondered for a minute. "I would like multiple black robes, and dark reds and greens. Please have everything in those colors."

The attendant nodded. "Yes, sir."

Hadrian walked out of the store in his brand new robes, and smiled to himself, all the while maintaining an expressionless mask. He was free to do whatever he wished, and would finally be able to show the world who was in charge.

Next, Hadrian quickly bought a personalized trunk with his initials, HJP, beautifully engraved in emerald on the lock. He set a password, Dolor sit amet, and tapped it on the lid, channeling magic through his finger to shrink it and leave it in his pocket. Hadrian strolled out of the store, quite aware of the shopkeeper's awed gaze.

Hadrian made a beeline for the bookstore, because even the most foolish person in the world knew that knowledge was power. As he entered, he was immediately drawn to a small section in the back of the store that seemed to call to him. Hadrian was not stupid, far from it in fact, and knew that the pull he felt was not normal. He quickly went and picked up a copy of the First Year books that were required on the list, and picked up…just a few…extras, including a few books from the shady corner. As he dragged his basket to the counter – he had apparently broken the featherlight charm – the cashier laughed.

"Are you a Ravenclaw, son?" he asked, eyes dancing.

Hadrian smiled sheepishly, vowing to figure out everything about this world even as his cheeks ached from the action. He dropped a pile of money as he put his books in his trunk and put it back into his pocket.

Soon, Hadrian's stomach began rumbling, and he quickly forgot himself for a minute as he remembered that he truly had the money to buy himself food. Quickly regaining his senses, Hadrian ate a hearty lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, and slipped back into Diagon Alley.

Hadrian was aware that most children his age detested shopping, but he had never had the opportunity to have nice things, and relished the chance.

He slipped in and out of the apothecary, simply buying one of the first-year kits. Quick and simple. Hadrian's eyes were drawn to a small store stashed at the end of the Alley, with animals in the window. Unable to withhold his curiosity, Hadrian entered the store and was greeted with a cacophony of sound. Hadrian let his eyes roam over the owls, frogs, cats, and some strange winged lizards as they finally landed on the serpents. Hadrian strode over to them and heard them…speaking? What?

"Are you…speaking?" he asked.

The snakes all hissed happily. "A speaker!" they hissed. "We are honored to meet you!"

Hadrian froze. So, he could speak to snakes? That was a surprise. Just then, his eyes caught a young, pure white snake with captivating purple eyes. The snake seemed annoyed with its nestmates' excitement.

Hadrian walked over to the snake – a female, from what he could see – and quietly hissed, "Would you like to come with me?"

The snake looked at Hadrian, assessing him. "Will you feed me tasty mice?"

Hadrian couldn't help but smirking. Of course he would find a snake as manipulative as he.

"Of course I will. What is your name?"

The snake shrugged. "The woman over there is too terrified of me to come near me. Good riddance though!"

Hadrian hissed out a laugh. "It says here that you are a Black Mamba. I shall call you Lilith, if you are amenable."

The snake hissed in approval. "You shall be my new master now. Let's go, master. Do not forget the mice!"

Hadrian laughed and paid for Lilith and ten mice, even as the shopkeeper was throwing startled looks at the duo.

Hadrian looked at his purchases for the day. All that was left to prove that he was a wizard was his wand. He smirked and walked towards Ollivander's.

The bell rang at the door as Hadrian and Lilith entered the store. Hadrian immediately felt a pair of eyes at his back, and turned to meet a man that was watching him from behind a shelf. As their eyes met, he saw shock in the old man's eyes.

"So, Mr. Potter, we meet at last." Like the others that had met him, Ollivander's eyes flicked to his scar and back.

"I must congratulate you, though. It has been a very long time – almost fifty years – since someone was able to sense my presence."

Hadrian remained silent. The man seemed to be lost in his own memories. Annoyed, he cleared his throat.

Ollivander jumped. "Oh yes, my apologies, Mr. Potter. Now, let's see about getting you a wand, shall we?"

Hadrian watched as he got out multiple boxes of varying sizes.

"Now, let's try this one. Birch with a core of unicorn tail, twelve inches. Swoosh it around, and we'll see what happens," said Ollivander, holding out a wand.

Hadrian took the proferred wand and, shoving down any feelings of embarrassment, gave the wand a wave. The table Ollivander was leaning on exploded.

"Not that one, then…oh yes, try this one. Maple with a veela hair, thirteen inches. Good for charms."

Taking the wand, Hadrian pointed at a flower and watched as it wilted, just before he heard a piercing scream and the plant turned black.

Ollivander blinked in bemusement.

The process went on for hours. Ollivander would hand him a wand, he would make something explode or break, and it would repeat. Just as Hadrian was losing hope, Ollivander pressed a wand into his hands.

"I wonder…try this one, Mr. Potter. Holly with a core of phoenix feather, eleven inches."

Hadrian gave it a flick, awed at the feeling that coursed through him. But…there was something…missing. He felt as though there was a block of some sort on his magic.

"At least we've made progress, Mr. Potter. We know that the core in your hand is correct, but we need to fix the wood. Oh my…it might…what if…" Ollivander hurried into the back room and called for him.

Hadrian watched as Ollivander split the wand in two, and took the core out of the wand. "Mr. Potter, go over to the box there and see which wood calls to you.

Hadrian obeyed, and immediately felt a pull in his gut to a light wood that he gave to Ollivander. The man's eyes widened more than Hadrian thought possible.

"Yew…a yew and phoenix feather wand? Like…him…" Ollivander, with shaking hands, finished the wand and handed it to Hadrian, who felt his magic coursing through him and closed his eyes in ecstasy, a smile playing on his lips. He created a shower of sparks that surrounded his body and gave him an unearthly look.

"Mr. Potter," called Ollivander, drawing him back from his euphoria. "Mr. Potter, the wand you hold currently is yew and phoenix feather, eleven inches. It is quite strange, I must say. For, the phoenix that donated the feather of your wand donated just one other. The one whose wand gave you…" his finger touched Hadrian's forehead as the boy flinched back, "that scar. And…the wood is the same for both wands. True twin wands. Not simply brother wands, but twins. That can only mean…well…Mr. Potter, you will do great things. You will definitely go on to make a mark on this world."

Hadrian nodded his head in acknowledgement of the old man's words, dropped some galleons on the counter, and left the store. A pair of eyes followed his exit, tinged with a mixture of fear, shock, respect, and awe.

'Great things, indeed. He will be the change that the wizarding world so needs. And I will be the first to witness his actions.'