Chapter 19: Portraits
As Hadrian and Sirius stepped into the cavernous depths of the Potter family vault, torches along the stone walls flickered to life, casting eerie shadows across rows of ancient chests, artifacts, and shimmering heirlooms. The air smelled faintly of parchment and time-worn wood, a sanctuary for the Potter legacy hidden beneath the earth.
Hadrian's eyes were immediately drawn to a set of ornately framed portraits hanging along the vault's walls, each bearing faces that seemed both stern and warm. The figures within were frozen at first, but as he and Sirius approached, the portraits stirred to life.
A regal man with dark hair and a strong jaw was the first to speak, his eyes sharp and observant. His gaze settled on Sirius before moving to Hadrian, a glimmer of recognition softening his expression.
"Sirius! What brings you down here after all this time?" he asked, his tone warm but laced with curiosity.
Sirius grinned, clapping a hand on Hadrian's shoulder. "Uncle Charlus, Aunt Dorea, allow me to introduce Hadrian." He paused, letting the name sink in. "This young man here is James's son."
The eyes of both Charlus and Dorea widened, softening with emotions Hadrian couldn't quite name. The man, Charlus, leaned forward, scrutinizing Hadrian as if assessing every feature.
"So, this is James's boy…" he murmured, his voice tinged with pride. "Welcome, Hadrian."
Dorea, her kind eyes gleaming with warmth, gave Hadrian a soft smile. "You look so much like him, dear. Though… those eyes. I can see the mischief in them already."
Hadrian felt a mixture of awe and apprehension. Here were his grandparents, figures he had only heard about in distant, whispered stories. He managed a smile. "It's… an honor to meet you both. I've been learning more about my family, and there's so much I don't know."
Charlus chuckled. "Ah, well, that's what we're here for, lad. Now, I imagine you're here for more than a simple family reunion."
Sirius nudged Hadrian forward, motioning to a large, intricate trunk at the base of Charlus's portrait. "Your grandfather here has been keen on keeping the family treasures hidden from the likes of Dumbledore and others who pry too deeply."
Charlus smirked at the mention of Dumbledore, his gaze sharpening. "That man has a rather troubling interest in matters he needn't interfere with. But that's not why you're here, is it?" He leaned back, his tone turning serious. "You're here because you're seeking something—a power or knowledge, yes?"
Hadrian nodded, his gaze shifting to the trunk. "Yes. I… I'm realizing that there's more to our family than I understood. And I need to be ready for what's ahead."
Charlus's expression grew contemplative. "That's the spirit. In these vaults, you'll find spells that aren't taught at Hogwarts, defenses that make Protego look like child's play. For instance, you may have heard of Protego Diabolica. It's a ward of fire that only harms those with ill intent, a powerful shield for a skilled witch or wizard."
Dorea nodded, adding, "Our family has also been guardians of several ancient magics. You'll find tools here that can amplify spells, potions with potent effects, and enchanted weapons." She gestured toward a smaller trunk nearby. "And in that trunk, you'll find something very special—a collection of memories left behind by your parents. James wanted you to have them when the time was right."
The mention of his parents stirred something deep within Hadrian, a sense of longing mixed with the fire of purpose. He turned to the trunk, reaching out to open it, but hesitated. He glanced back at Charlus and Dorea.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Charlus's expression softened. "No need for thanks, lad. We're family. And there's one more item you should take." He gestured toward a black, unassuming trunk near the back of the vault. "That trunk contains what your uncle Arctus and I found years ago, remnants of Grindelwald's hidden libraries and workshops. Inside, you'll find forbidden tomes, notes, and artifacts—tools for those with the courage to wield them. But be careful, Hadrian. Not all knowledge is meant to be used lightly."
Sirius gave a low whistle. "Didn't know you and Arctus had such a collection here. No wonder Dumbledore wanted access to the vault."
Charlus smirked. "Exactly why we kept him out. He may mean well, but he doesn't understand everything, nor should he."
Dorea added, her tone gentle yet firm, "Hadrian, remember this: power is a tool, not a crutch. Whatever you find, let it serve you, not the other way around."
Hadrian nodded, feeling the weight of their words settle over him. "I understand. Thank you." He glanced at the black trunk and then back to the trunk with his parents' memories. There was so much here, a wealth of knowledge and power, but he was keenly aware of the responsibility it carried.
With his grandparents' approval, he carefully lifted the black trunk, feeling a sense of reverence for the legacy contained within. The secrets of Grindelwald, safeguarded by his own family. A dark, potent treasure that could change the course of his path.
With the trunks in tow, Hadrian and Sirius made their way to the Black family vault. There, they found a single portrait hanging on the wall—a stern, imposing figure with piercing gray eyes and an aura of unyielding strength. Sirius gestured to the portrait with a grin.
"Hadrian, meet Arctus Black, my grandfather and your granduncle."
The portrait's gaze swept over Hadrian, lingering for a moment before speaking. "Sirius. And… who might this young man be?"
Sirius straightened, a glint of pride in his eyes. "This is Hadrian. James's son."
Arctus's eyes widened, and he scrutinized Hadrian carefully. "James's son, is it? I'd heard rumors… but to see you here…" He paused, his gaze softening slightly. "Welcome, lad. You carry both the Potter and Black names. It's an honor to meet you."
Hadrian inclined his head, his voice respectful. "Thank you, Granduncle Arctus. I'm here to learn about my family's past and perhaps find some guidance for what lies ahead."
Arctus's expression turned contemplative. "The Blacks and Potters have a long history, Hadrian, full of power, honor, and… complexity. There's much in this vault that can aid you, from potent spells to rare potions and artifacts. But like Charlus said—power must be handled wisely."
Sirius stepped forward, glancing around at the various chests and cabinets in the vault. "Well, Arctus, any recommendations for what might help him?"
The portrait chuckled. "Look to the cabinet on the left, lad. There are books there that contain some of the oldest spells known to our family, spells that can defend, protect, and, if necessary, destroy."
Following his direction, Hadrian and Sirius found several tomes, each filled with spells and rituals. Hadrian felt a familiar surge of power as he brushed his fingers over the old parchment, sensing that these were indeed potent tools, each with a legacy tied to his blood.
After gathering everything they could, Hadrian glanced back at Arctus, Charlus, and Dorea's portraits one last time, feeling a connection that transcended time and death.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "I won't forget this."
Charlus's voice was gentle as he replied, "Go forth, Hadrian. You carry not only our blood but also our hopes. Remember, whatever you face, you are never truly alone."
With a respectful nod, Hadrian and Sirius exited the vaults, their arms filled with the legacy of the Potters and Blacks, and their hearts filled with the weight of what lay ahead.
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