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.
Chapter 20: Limitations
Back at Devil May Cry HQ, Hadrian and Sirius carefully positioned the three portraits in a quiet room, ensuring they were secure and placed prominently. As they straightened the frames, the portraits of Charlus Potter, Dorea Black, and Arctus Black began to stir, blinking as they took in their surroundings.
Dante walked in, casting a smirk toward the newly awakened portraits. "So, this is the famous Potter family, huh?"
Charlus's gaze swept the room before it settled on Hadrian. "I assume this is where you've been spending your time?"
Hadrian nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, this is Devil May Cry HQ. Everyone here works with me, including Dante." He gestured toward his uncle, who gave a casual wave.
"It's… different," Dorea murmured, her eyes wide as she took in the odd assortment of weapons, artifacts, and demonic memorabilia scattered around the HQ. "But it seems fitting, considering everything you've been up to."
Once introductions were completed, Hadrian decided to summon his familiars. With a silent command, Hedwig materialized on his shoulder, her feathers shimmering with an ethereal glow. Oryou uncoiled gracefully around his arm, her scales dark as night with a subtle red glow beneath. Charlus and Dorea exchanged startled glances, while Arctus eyed the creatures with a mixture of fascination and respect.
"Quite the impressive companions," Arctus remarked a note of approval in his voice. "They don't make familiars like that anymore."
"They've saved my life more times than I can count," Hadrian replied, giving a soft smile as he stroked Hedwig's feathers. "And they've been with me through all sorts of madness."
With introductions complete, Hadrian and Sirius settled into their work, pouring over the tomes and spellbooks they had brought from the Potter and Black vaults. Each page was filled with spells that ranged from practical to deadly, from obscure enchantments to powerful arcane defenses. But as Hadrian continued studying, he encountered a familiar problem: though he could perform basic magic wandlessly, advanced spells required intense focus and drained him rapidly without a proper conduit. A wand would allow him to channel his magical energy more efficiently and with greater precision.
He let out a frustrated sigh after reading through a description of Protego Diabolica, a spell derived from Fiendfyre that could create a barrier of dark blue flames, burning enemies while protecting allies. Though he could feel the magic thrumming beneath his fingertips, he knew that casting it without a wand would demand an extraordinary amount of energy and concentration.
"So much for Grindelwald's innovations," he muttered, closing the tome with a hint of irritation.
Sirius, who had been examining a different book, looked over. "What's wrong?"
"I can use wandless magic," Hadrian admitted, "but these more complex spells… they're hard to control without a wand. It's like trying to pour water through a sieve instead of a funnel."
Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. Wandless magic is demanding enough on its own, and these spells are meant to be channeled. Still, you've come a long way."
Hadrian managed a small smile, though the frustration still simmered beneath. He could perform spells that most wizards would never dream of attempting wandlessly, but he knew that there was still a threshold he couldn't easily cross without a proper conduit. Many of the powerful spells in the Peverell Grimoire, Grindelwald's notes, and the Black family tomes were tantalizingly out of reach—possible to perform, but not without intense strain.
As the days passed, Hadrian continued studying, attempting spells like Ignis Diabolica—a cursed fire meant purely for offense—and Vincula Umbrae, chains forged from shadows to bind enemies. He managed to cast them wandlessly, but each time he felt the magical drain hit harder than he anticipated as if each spell took more out of him than the last. Despite his prowess, he knew that these spells would eventually exhaust him without a way to channel them effectively.
One evening, while in conversation with the portraits, Charlus noticed Hadrian's weariness.
"You look troubled," Charlus commented with a gentle smile. "Learning powerful magic is no easy feat, I'd imagine."
Hadrian sighed. "The spells I need are right here in front of me, but without a proper focus, they're almost as dangerous to me as they are to my enemies. I can cast them, but it's draining."
Arctus, always the pragmatist, raised an eyebrow. "Then find a way to remedy that. If a wand is what you need, then you should seek it out. Don't let a tool be the thing that limits you."
Dorea's voice was softer, filled with maternal warmth. "Patience, Hadrian. Some spells aren't meant to be rushed. Perhaps this is fate's way of telling you to take your time."
Hadrian gave a nod, grateful for their words even as his impatience simmered. The knowledge was there, waiting for him to unlock it, and he felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on him. He would find a way to wield these spells—one way or another.
Just as he pondered his next steps, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, followed by the creak of the door opening. Morrison, the calm and unflappable fixer, strolled in with his usual stack of files.
"Got a job for you all," he announced, setting the papers down on the table with a grin. "Hope someone's up for a bit of adventure."
Dante, lounging on the couch with his feet up, stretched with a dramatic yawn. "Oh, I dunno, Morrison… it's been a long week. Saving the world does take it out of you."
Lady grinned, tossing a playing card onto the table. "I second that. Besides, I think it's Hadrian's turn."
Hadrian rolled his eyes, glancing around at the amused faces. Clearly, he wasn't getting out of this one easily. With a resigned sigh, he crossed his arms and muttered, "Fine, but only if we draw lots."
After a bit of grumbling, they resorted to the age-old method of drawing lots from a worn-out jar kept for such situations. Dante pulled first, then Lady, then Trish… until, inevitably, it was Hadrian's turn. He peeked at the paper he'd drawn and groaned.
From his shoulder, Hedwig let out what sounded suspiciously like a murmur. Though he didn't quite catch it, he thought he heard something like, "E-rank luck…"
"What was that, Hedwig?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Hedwig preened her feathers, her golden eyes innocent. "Just your imagination, master."
"Right. And here I was thinking of treating you with extra seeds this week," he muttered. "Looks like that's going to be 'limited rations' instead."
Hedwig squawked indignantly, but he only smirked. Turning to Morrison, he asked, "Alright, what's the job?"
Morrison handed him a file with a chuckle. "Pack your bags, kid. You're going to Sweden."
Hadrian took the file with a resigned sigh, skimming the details. It looked like one of those jobs that would inevitably lead to more trouble than expected, but he was ready for it.
"Sweden, huh?" he muttered, already mentally preparing himself for the journey.
The team watched him with amused smirks, happy that, for once, someone else would be handling the impending chaos. Hadrian, meanwhile, couldn't shake the feeling that this mission was the first step toward something significant—something that would help him bridge the gap between his abilities and the power locked within those ancient spells.
As he left the room, he mentally noted to find that elusive wand when he could. But for now, Sweden awaited.
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