Chapter Text
The first thing he did when he arrived was check the date.
He closed his eyes and briefly mourned. He'd messed up the spell—he was just about five months too late to save them.
Then he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and got to work.
There were so many other people to save.
When the man knocked on the door of the Burrow, Molly was rightfully suspicious.
It was April 3rd, 1982, and though five months and three days ago He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was killed, the war was still not over—there were still Death Eaters roaming about, and the Weasleys were a well-known light family; it wasn't too much of a leap to think maybe dark forces had come knocking.
But literally knocking? Well, that was less likely.
Molly cracked the door, her wand gripped tightly in her fist, and squinted at the man standing on her doorstep. He was handsome, in maybe his mid-twenties with a mess of black locks on his head and green eyes shining kindly behind a pair of circular glasses. His smile was nice, and his stance confident, and Molly blushed just a little at the warm expression he was directing her way.
"Hello," he said, his smile bright, "my name is Hadrian Gaunt, and there is a dark magic object in your house that I'm here to get rid of, if you'd be so kind."
With a frown, Molly gave the man a once-over, looking for any of the normal signs of a dark wizard. "What do you mean, dark object? How do you even know it's here?"
"I'm not quite sure what type, I just know there's something dark here, and if you'd allow me in I could get rid of it." Molly didn't budge, straightening and staring him down. She was a mother of seven, one of them not even a year old, and she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix—she would defend her home against strangers.
Seeing her dedication, the man sighed softly, but there was something fond in his eyes. Seeming to make up his mind about something, the man raised his right hand by his head, palm facing her.
Then he said, "I solemnly swear that upon my entrance to the Burrow I will do no harm to it or to the Weasley family, only remove something that would assuredly put them in danger down the road."
Molly felt the pulse of magic in the air, felt the power behind it, and sucked in a sharp breath at how easily this man made a binding vow.
"Oh," she said faintly, stepping back from the door and allowing him entrance. "Hadrian Gaunt, did you say?" She knew the name Gaunt. It was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight; she'd thought they'd all died out.
"Yes, Ma'am," he breathed, looking so utterly relieved—and tired—as she let him in that Molly felt a motherly instinct rise in her.
"Would you like something to drink, Mr. Gaunt? Or to eat? Lunchtime is just around the corner..." she offered. He shook his head absently, looking around her home with a peculiar smile on his face. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Molly said, "Ah, forgive the mess—"
But the man shook his head again, turning to her with a genuine, warm smile. "No, don't apologize, really. It's nice. It's like...it's like home."
There was something sad in his eyes as he said it. No, not sad—wistful. This man had lost someone, Molly realized. Probably more than one someone. With the war that had been waging the past few years, Molly wouldn't be surprised. Thank goodness it was coming to a close.
She frowned at him again, this time in concern. "Are you alright, dear? Are you sure you don't want something to eat? It's no trouble."
The man opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then winced and turned away, thinking better of it. "No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley, I'm okay." Something changed in his expression, becoming more focused as he looked around her home. He reminded her of an Auror in that moment, or of a member of the Order—someone with a determined mind and a mission in their eyes.
Molly waited with baited breath as the man drew his wand from his sleeve, holding it readily. There was a moment of tense silence, and then he murmured, "Accio rat missing a finger."
Molly blinked, thinking that quite an odd thing to call to oneself—and wondering what that had to do with a dark object in her home—and she let out a little shout of surprise when a rat flew through the air and landed in the man's waiting fist.
The man used his wand to draw up a quick and powerful protective circle, throwing the rat inside before he closed it. The rat screamed in protest and ran at the barriers, begging to be let out. Molly winced. The man then murmured a quiet spell the elder witch couldn't hear, causing a blue light to glow at the end of his wand.
What happened next would be seared into Molly's mind for the rest of her life.
A human head popped up from the ground; limbs sprouted right next to it; and then, in the next moment, a man was sitting inside the circle where the rat had been, looking at the pair of wizards with a nervous, almost fearful expression, his hands wringing anxiously.
And Molly knew this man.
She gasped, her eyes going wide and a hand flying to her mouth. Peter Pettigrew was supposed to be dead. He'd been killed by Sirius Black after Black had betrayed them all. And yet there he was, disguised as a rat in her home.
Hadrian Gaunt's eyes were hard as stone, and Molly felt a shiver go up her spine.
"Hello, Peter," he said coldly, a hint of satisfaction in the curl of his lips. "Interesting to see you alive and kicking, hmm?"
"I-I-I—" Pettigrew whimpered, looking around desperately. "I—oh, thank you so much! Sirius Black, he-he trapped me in that form, made me unable t-t-to get help. So-so thank you, kind sir!"
Gaunt snorted, clearly not buying it for a second. "I have a vial of Veritaserum that I will be using to ensure your truthfulness when the Aurors arrive, Mr. Pettigrew. Until then, I'd advise you to stay. Silent. I'm more inclined to be rough with you than fair, and I don't think tempting me towards harming you by lying is a good idea."
Pettigrew gaped at the other man, his eyes shining with fear, and Molly had a moment of sympathy before she realized that his story had so many holes, and it was highly suspicious.
Maybe sensing her indecision, Pettigrew turned his attention to Molly, his gaze pleading. "Please, Mrs. Weasley—Molly. We—we were in th-the Order together! This—this man is a stranger. H-he might even be a-a Death Eater, here to frame me!"
"Be silent before I make you be silent," Gaunt said. His voice was quiet, but the words cut through everything else, making Pettigrew gulp nervously. Gaunt's hand twitched around his wand, and Molly realized that the man was desperately holding himself back from attacking his captive.
Suddenly, this man in front of her—just a few years more than a boy really—reminded her of James Potter, rest his soul. James had always gotten so angry when faced with disloyalty, and she'd seen him look something very similar to this on more than one occasion. That poor boy had died, but this one was still alive; she could maybe provide him with some comfort, calm him down.
"You said something about Aurors?" Molly inquired, drawing Gaunt's attention. His eyes flashed to her, and her breath was taken away at the grief in his gaze, the bitter anger, and Molly wanted nothing more than to hug him. Instead, she sent him a kind smile. "Aurors, Mr. Gaunt?"
"I...?" he blinked at her a few times and then rolled his shoulders, taking a deep breath. Between one moment and the next he looked far calmer. "Yes, Aurors. I sent word to them that there was a Death Eater fugitive in the area, and that he was hiding in the Weasley household, unbeknownst to all of you. They should be arriving right..."
There were the loud pops of apparition outside.
Gaunt smiled, satisfied. "...Now."
Before the Aurors could storm into the house, Gaunt moved, darting forward and pouring a vial of liquid down Pettigrew's throat so quickly that the other man didn't even have a chance to jerk away.
"What was that?" Pettigrew cried out, wiping urgently at his mouth like he could undo swallowing the liquid.
"Veritaserum," Gaunt told him, baring his teeth in vicious satisfaction. "Told you—you're going to tell them everything you've done."
Just then, four Aurors burst in, their wands all drawn. Their confusion at what they saw was evident, having expected a dark wizard to be holding the family hostage, or whatnot. Instead there was a startled middle-aged woman, a whimpering man in a protective circle, and a man standing tall with righteous anger. They clearly had no idea as to their next step for a moment.
With a pleased smirk, Gaunt turned to look at Pettigrew.
"What is your name?" he asked with the calm surety of someone who was finally getting what they wanted.
"P-Peter Pettigr-grew," the man in the circle stuttered out fearfully. Hunched over like he was, Molly was reminded of the fact that he was barely twenty-two years old. The thought made her heart clench.
"And were you the Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter?" Gaunt continued.
Pettigrew looked like he was trying to resist, but no one could hold out against Veritaserum. "Yes, I-I was."
Molly, though she'd seen where this was going, gasped. A couple of the Aurors did as well.
"And did you betray them to Voldemort?"
Everyone gasped at Gaunt's usage of the Dark Lord's name.
With a sob, Pettigrew said, "Yes."
"And did you then frame Sirius Black—an innocent man—for your crimes?" Gaunt asked his fourth question, his voice rising.
"Yes," Pettigrew shrieked, "Y-yes, I did, and I'm so sorry, it-it was a mistake, but it's in the past now, an-and—"
"Peter Pettigrew," the eldest of the Aurors said gravely, stepping forward, "you are under arrest; do not resist, or stronger methods will be employed to apprehend you." The man glanced at Gaunt, nodding his head, and Gaunt immediately dropped the protective circle, freeing Pettigrew.
Predictably, the rat of a man tried to escape, and Gaunt cast a wordless stunner instantly, knocking Pettigrew out before anyone had even had a chance to react to the movement.
As the Aurors left with the unconscious form of the Order traitor, the lead Auror looked to Gaunt with a tired smile. "Nice job, seriously. This...well, this changes everything. Good work."
And then they were gone, leaving Molly once again alone with the strange Handrian Gaunt.
"Well," she said after a few moments of comfortable silence. "That was...that was extraordinary."
Gaunt smiled at her, tired like the Auror, his shoulders slumping now that all the excitement had concluded. "No more evil rats in your walls," he said with a chuckle. "Well, at least none with a greater motivation that chewing on your flowers."
Molly laughed, still feeling energized, and smiled at him. No longer standing tall, he looked so young. How old was he? Twenty-three maybe? "Now could I interest you in some lunch, Mr. Gaunt?"
"Call me Hadrian," he murmured in reply, cracking his neck. He glanced around her home one last time with a fond expression, and then turned to her with a smile. "I thank you for allowing me into your home, Mrs. Weasley, and I hope this hasn't disrupted your day too much."
Molly laughed again, and was about to say No, dear, it's quite alright, but before she could, Hadrian disapparated, vanishing from her home.
Later, when Albus came asking for details, Molly told him all about the strange young man who appeared out of nowhere and had knowledge no one else had even guessed at. She'd hoped the headmaster would be able to fill in some blanks.
But alas, even the Great Albus Dumbledore was mystified as to whom Hadrian Gaunt was, and how the young man had known what he did.
When Remus walked up the path to his small, run-down home, there was someone sitting on the doorstep.
For a moment Remus was struck with a terrible pain at the sight of that messy black hair and circular glasses, the name of his dead best friend on the tip of his tongue. But no, it wasn't James. It couldn't be, no matter how much Remus wished...
It had been just about five months since James and Lily died, since Sirius betrayed them all, and Remus was still really struggling to make sense of his new life. The world was rejoicing the death of You-Know-Who, but Remus could do nothing but mourn.
The werewolf sighed, shaking his head at himself, and continued walking. The man looked up at him and stood, a kind smile on his face.
"Remus Lupin? My name is Hadrian Gaunt; might we talk? I have some good news for you."
"Do you now?" Remus asked tiredly, moving past the man and entering his home. After a moment of consideration, he waved the man in after him. "And what would that be?"
The man—Gaunt, Remus knew that name—looked curiously around the small, shabby shack Remus had been calling home the last few months, a considerable lack of judgment or disgust in his gaze. Well, at least the stranger wasn't an asshole. It was always nice to encounter non-assholes.
"You might want to sit down," Gaunt advised gently, glancing at one of the rickety kitchen chairs. Remus frowned at him, assessing, and then decided to follow the instruction; it wasn't like he had enough pride to feel the need to stand.
"Alright, I'm sitting. What good news do you have for me, Mr. Gaunt? And who are you, exactly?"
Gaunt smiled at him, warm and gentle, and said, "Yesterday afternoon it was discovered that Peter Pettigrew is alive." Remus' heart stopped. "Also, he was James and Lily's Secret Keeper, not Sirius Black." Remus couldn't breathe. "Which means that Sirius Black is completely and utterly innocent; he's scheduled to be released from Azkaban in about an hour and a half."
"Oh my god," Remus said, his voice quite unsteady, and put his head between his knees in an effort to push back the urge to vomit. "Oh my god. He's innocent. He didn't betray us." He blinked, and shot to his feet. "Oh my god Peter betrayed us."
"Yes," Gaunt agreed softly, "he did. He framed Sirius and then he hid out in his Animagus form to fake his death. He confessed under Veritaserum to all his crimes. He'll be taking Sirius' cell in Azkaban immediately."
Laughter bubbled out of Remus, a smile coming onto his face. Sirius was innocent. Sirius hadn't betrayed them! This was incredible, this was—
"Wait," he said, something occurring to him. Gaunt waited patiently. "Why didn't he...if they chose Peter as Secret Keeper instead, why didn't Sirius tell me? Did he think I was the spy?"
"To be fair," Gaunt said, his tone wry, "you believed he was the spy, as well. I feel like you can both just forgive each other for that, yeah?"
Remus laughed again, relief making him giddy. Sirius was being released. "I have to go get him," he breathed. He looked to Gaunt. "When is he leaving Azkaban? How do I...can I be there?"
Gaunt smiled, his eyes crinkling happily. "Go take a shower and shave."
Remus blinked at him, suddenly offended. "I beg your pardon?"
The other man laughed, soft and kind. "I don't mean to offend. I simply meant that it's been a very hard five months, for both Sirius and you—he's going to be tired and stressed, and seeing you the same way won't help him. Shower, shave, eat something, and go pick him up looking strong and alive."
For a moment, Remus just stared at Gaunt, taken aback. He was right; the werewolf was well aware of how run-down he'd come to look these last few months, and he could practically hear Sirius making jokes about it in his mind, the laughter doing nothing to cover the genuine worry in his eyes. Remus didn't want Sirius to worry about him, not after the Animagus had just spent five months in Azkaban.
With a sigh, Remus nodded, sending Gaunt a grateful smile. "Right, yes. You can...make yourself at home. I'll be out in a bit."
Gaunt nodded back, sitting down on the small, ratty couch in the living room. Remus winced briefly—seeing that richly-dressed man on the falling-to-pieces sofa made him feel awkward and poor—but Gaunt looked perfectly content, examining the contents of Remus' bookshelf with a curious, peaceful expression.
It was probably a trick of the light, but Remus thought he saw a hint of tears in the man's eyes.
Roger Smyth was pretty sure he wasn't paid enough to deal with Hadrian Gaunt on a Monday morning.
The man was a force to be reckoned with, especially considering that before a week ago he'd barely existed, and now suddenly he was catching thought-dead traitors and getting thought-traitor innocent men out of Azkaban. Any time someone put up a slight argument, Gaunt easily steamrolled right over them, somehow getting people to shut up and do as they were told, even though he wasn't their boss.
Roger hadn't seen anyone except Albus Dumbledore do that to Ministry officials before. It was almost an artform. It was bloody terrifying.
And so here he was, eight in the fucking morning on a Monday, waiting at Azkaban's gates because somehow Hadrian Gaunt had managed to get permission to be here to greet Black, and somehow Roger had ended up with the job of escorting him.
But not just him, no. Gaunt also got permission to bring a fucking werewolf along.
Fucking ridiculous.
Out of the corner of his eye, Roger could tell Gaunt was looking at him, and he thus kept his eyes firmly forward. The werewolf was twitching anxiously, looking like he was barely restraining himself from storming the gates. Gaunt, in complete contrast, looked so utterly calm, as if going to Azkaban was just a regular occurrence for him.
Roger, on the other hand? Well, being this close to a horde of dementors made him severely uncomfortable.
"Mr. Smyth?" Gaunt called, and Roger steeled himself, turning to look at the man with what he hoped was a polite expression. This man had caused quite a commotion at the ministry, and thus made Roger's life very difficult.
"Yes, Lord Gaunt?"
"Would you like a sugar quill? I have a few in my bag, and I'm trying to eat less sugar," Gaunt said, smiling kindly.
Roger blinked in surprise, and then blinked again. Sugar quills were his favorite candy. Had been since he was a kid. How the fuck—?
"I...yes, thank you," Roger said hesitantly, and he suddenly realized that Gaunt did not have a bag with him, and so no place for sugar quills.
But, proving Roger wrong, Gaunt pulled out his small, billfold wallet, opened it up, and pulled out two sugar quills, large and completely intact. They couldn't have fit in the tiny area.
Roger blinked again, and couldn't help but feel seriously impressed. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and took the candy from Gaunt's outstretched hand. "Right. Thank you."
Gaunt smiled and nodded. "You're very welcome."
Roger noticed that the werewolf was staring at the pair of them with an amused, mystified expression. He, too, seemed to not know what to make of the enigmatic wizard with them.
Just then, the gates opened, and the three of them snapped to attention. Normally, the prime minister would be here with them. And a couple reporters with cameras. And a few Aurors, just in case. But Hadrian Gaunt had somehow managed to get the ministry to agree to send no one else. Roger, as the PM's executive assistant, was a compromise.
Fucking insane.
Sirius Black strode out of Azkaban, his steps long and sure but a little unsteady. His expression was hard, closed off, but when he spotted Remus Lupin that all faded away. Black's face lit up, a smile transforming his features into something truly attractive. The months of imprisonment faded away as the two wizards moved towards each other, meeting in a tight embrace that Roger looked away from out of respect.
Roger and Gaunt waited silently as Black and Lupin had their reunion, Roger feeling awkward and Gaunt looking terribly pleased.
When the pair finally broke apart, Black said, "Took you long enough."
Lupin shook his head. "Well, you know, I had to get you back for the time you turned my robes purple."
"That was in sixth year!"
"Yes, my revenge was a long time coming."
There was a pause, and then the pair of them burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching their stomachs. Gaunt stood there, a grin splitting his face as he watched them, his eyes shining.
Roger squinted at him curiously; as far as Roger was aware, Gaunt had never met these two men. At least, there was no proof of any kind of connection that they'd found during this whole mess. And yet, the expression on Gaunt's face...
Something to look into, maybe.
When the werewolf and freed man finally calmed down, Roger stepped forward, clearing his throat. Black narrowed his eyes momentarily before settling; a leftover reaction from spending so much time in Azkaban, Roger imagined.
"Sirius Black, you are officially cleared off all charges against you, and your record wiped cleaned. The Ministry would like to offer its sincerest apologies for the wrong that has been done to you."
Black snorted. "What, was the minister not brave enough to come face me himself, after that farce of a trial? He sent his errand boy instead?"
Roger shifted awkwardly, his eyes flitting away from the deep-set eyes focused solely on him. He opened his mouth to reply but words escaped him.
"That was my doing, actually," Gaunt said, stepping forward and drawing their attention. Roger let out a breath he didn't realize he'd be holding, sending the man a brief, grateful glance. "I thought you might appreciate some privacy with your friend, without a big reception out here."
Black looked at Gaunt appraisingly. "Eh, you're not wrong. Who are you?"
Gaunt smiled, his eyes crinkling. "Hadrian Gaunt. Nice to meet you, Lord Black."
"He's the one who caught Peter," Lupin murmured. "He's the reason you're out of Azkaban, Sirius."
Black's eyes went wide, looking between his friend and the odd wizard in front of them. Then he grinned and strode forward, clasping Gaunt on the shoulder. "Merlin! Nice job, Gaunt. How'd you do it?"
Gaunt's eyes flicked down to the hand on his shoulder, something briefly flashing through his gaze that looked almost pained. But when he looked back up it was gone, like nothing more than a trick of the light.
"I'm meeting with Albus Dumbledore later as well, over the issue of the guardianship of your godson, Harry Potter. It should all be straightened out very soon."
All three wizards startled at Gaunt's words, staring at him in shock. Roger racked his brain, trying to remember if he'd heard anything about this meeting, if anyone had mentioned that Gaunt was trying to put Harry Potter in the custody of a man just released from Azkaban. But no, he was sure no one had said anything. Did the minister even know? Did Dumbledore?
Roger would pay good money to be in the room while Hadrian Gaunt and Albus Dumbledore met. Two forces to be reckoned with—it was sure to be fascinating.
"You're—what?" Lupin stuttered out, the first of them to get their vocal chords working.
"Currently Harry is living with his aunt and uncle in Little Whinging. They are not...exceptionally nice people, and now that you have been released from prison, and are listed in the Potters' will as a primary guardian should something happen to them, I'm sure it will be no problem to have your godson in your care come the end of the week. I just need to discuss the...specifics with Headmaster Dumbledore first."
"Who are you?" Black asked incredulously.
Gaunt offered him a lopsided smile. "Someone with the ability to right some wrongs." He looked to Roger, then. "Mr. Smyth, I assume you can take it from here?"
Roger blinked dumbly. "Take...it?"
The strange wizard's expression was kind, but there was mirth in his wet eyes. Why were they wet? "Lord Black and Mr. Lupin are likely to want to go home now. I'll be in touch soon, but I figured that a capable man such as yourself is perfectly willing to make sure they get off this island alright, with the full support of the ministry behind them."
Roger straightened, heat rising to his cheeks at the slight compliment. Off to the side, Black snorted. "Yes, of course. Thank you for your aid, Lord Gaunt. I can take it from here."
Gaunt smiled one last time and said, "Excellent." He then looked to the werewolf and the convict, his expression softening. "You'll be seeing Harry very soon, if I have anything to say about it. I'm very good at getting my way."
He winked, and then, before anyone could say anything, diapparated.
Ever since Albus heard the name Hadrian Gaunt whispered through the halls of the ministry, ever since Molly Weasley called him and told him about the stranger's accomplishments, the Hogwarts headmaster had really been wanting to meet this mystery man.
The problem, however, was that it was near impossible to find said mystery man unless he wanted to be found.
And Albus tried. Really, he did. It wasn't arrogant of him to acknowledge that he was one of the most powerful wizards of their (and of any) time, which meant that normally locating one lone wizard wasn't that much of a challenge for him, especially considering how much attention the young man was currently getting.
And yet—nothing.
After a few days Albus just gave up looking, going back to simply focusing on his duties as headmaster and his duties in working with the ministry to hunt down the remaining Death Eaters. Hogwarts was starting to feel a lot calmer these days, children and parents alike beginning to relax as the war drifted towards an end. It was good to be in such an environment, watching hope return.
It was almost enough to make Albus forget about Hadrian Gaunt. It was certainly enough to make him stop looking.
Which was, of course, when the mysterious wizard decided to show up.
It was a warm, mid-April day, and Albus was watching as the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Quidditch teams played a scrimmage match. A majority of the professors were watching with him, whether up in the stands or on the ground like him, with the notable exception of Severus.
Albus sighed, and tried not to let his mood sour. His heart went out to the young man he'd hired, the young man who was still grieving and angry with the world. Angry with Albus, angry with himself.
Albus had hoped that after being cleared of charges and freed from Voldemort's reign, Severus would come out of his shell a bit more. But it was just the opposite; Severus had felt like he had a purpose while serving the Dark Lord, no matter how horrid the purpose was. Now, with the woman he loved dead because of something he did and indebted to a man that fought his old master—well, Severus was just angry.
And so very, very lost.
Having been sucked into rumination without meaning to, Albus was pulled from his thoughts by someone stepping up next to where he, Poppy, and Filius were standing.
"Afternoon," the newcomer said politely, sending them a smile and glancing up at the players with a fond smile. For the people or the sport, Albus wasn't sure.
"Afternoon," Albus replied, equally polite. Poppy echoed the sentiment. Filius shouted an encouragement to his team. "What can we help you with, Mr..."
"Gaunt," the man offered, and Albus barely kept himself from startling. "But please, call me Hadrian. It's a pleasure to meet you, Headmaster Dumbledore. And the both of you as well," he added, looking to Poppy and Filius with a natural, charming smile. Poppy blushed slightly and Filius blinked before sending back a smile of his own.
"Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Gaunt," the short wizard said warmly. "Great day for a game, eh?" The Ravenclaw head of house then turned his attention back to the players high above them, eyes locked onto the quaffle avidly.
"It is indeed," Hadrian Gaunt replied, not in the slightest bit bothered by the fact that Filius was no longer paying attention. He turned his attention to Poppy. "I hope you won't mind me stealing the headmaster for a moment, Madame Pomfrey; there are a few things I need to talk to him about."
"Oh, not at all, dear, not at all!" Poppy replied, beaming. "You go on ahead. I'll catch you up on the game later, Albus."
Albus blinked at how the decision had been effectively removed from his hands all together—clever man—and then nodded towards the castle. "This way, Lord Gaunt; we can talk in my office."
They didn't talk much on the way back from the Quidditch pitch, but oddly enough it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Albus watched the younger wizard, examining him, and he got the feeling that though he was being subtle about it—he had many, many years of practice—Hadrian was allowing him to look, smiling up at the blue sky like there wasn't an extremely powerful wizard watching him.
Albus had no doubt that if he made eye contact and pushed, he'd find very strong occlumency walls.
"You've made quite the impression lately," Albus said offhandedly. "At the ministry and with those who happen to cross your path."
The corners of Hadrian's mouth tilted upward in something resembling amusement, but he didn't look over at Albus. "I've gotten that impression, yes. It's almost as if they're not used to being faced with a capable wizard on a day-to-day basis." He shot Albus a side eye. Albus couldn't help but chuckle.
"I did hear someone compare your ways to mine," Albus agreed. "It made me want to meet you very much indeed; it's a rarity that someone can get the minister to do something purely useful and yet not feel steamrolled."
They entered the castle, and Albus tried to decide how he wanted to broach the subject of Hadrian's past. To Albus' knowledge, the Gaunts had pretty much died off, ending with Tom. And though Hadrian was British, Albus was 100% positive he'd never attended Hogwarts.
"You should just ask," Hadrian said calmly, glancing at Albus with a quick smile as they reached the Griffin statue guarding his office. "This whole conversation will go a lot more smoothly if you aren't constantly wondering where I'm from."
Albus didn't say anything in reply, leading the way up the staircase and into his office. He took a seat behind his desk and Hadrian sat across from him, only sparing a brief glance around the room before turning his full attention to the headmaster.
"What can I do for you, Lord Gaunt?" Albus asked.
"I'd like to discuss the guardianship of Harry James Potter," Hadrian replied primly, his hands folded on top of his crossed legs.
Albus tilted his head. "Mr. Potter is in the care of his aunt and uncle, considering they are the closest relation after the death of his parents. What needs to be discussed about that?"
"You've placed him there because you believe the blood wards will protect him," Hadrian said, his voice perfectly even as he stared at Albus with a calm expression (boldly and fearlessly meeting the legilimens' gaze). "Not because they're deserving of custody.
"And now that Lord Black has been cleared of all charges and released from Azkaban, Mr. Potter should immediately transfer residences, considering James and Lily Potter put him as the guardian should they die, with Mr. Remus Lupin behind Lord Black should Lord Black be unable to fulfill his duties." The young wizard smiled sardonically. "Odd that Harry didn't go to Remus, considering all that."
Albus didn't react to the hidden accusation, but it did make his curiosity grow exponentially. Hadrian clearly knew a lot—how had he seen the Potters' will?—but there was something almost personal in Hadrian's tone and actions. Why did he seem upset about the fact that Harry hadn't been put in Remus' custody after Lily and James' death? Why was he actively pursuing the change of Harry's custody now?
"Did you know Lily and James?" Albus asked. He briefly grazed the surface of the younger wizard's mind and was unsurprised to find very strong walls, indeed.
Hadrian rose an eyebrow, and looked almost amused.
"Not personally, no. I'm just...a stickler for not breaking wills. So!" he carried on with a smile, "I assume you have no problem writing a recommendation for the changing custody? You have quite a large amount of influence and it will speed things along exponentially."
"I think some hesitation is warranted," Albus said gently. "Sirius Black just got out of Azkaban, which I imagine is a very traumatic place. And Remus Lupin has been struggling himself as of late. Currently Harry Potter is in a stable home environment. I don't know if it's the best idea to remove him from his aunt and uncle, only to place him in what could be a challenging home."
Suddenly Hadrian's entire being chilled, his eyes narrowing into slits. "A challenging home?" he asked coldly. "A stable environment?"
Albus hesitated, not understanding. "Yes," he said slowly, "are you alright, Lord Gaunt?"
Hadrian stared at him for a few moments longer and Albus was strangely reminded of Severus. Cold, bitter, angry at the world and angry at Albus, grieving for something lost. But in the case of Hadrian, Albus truly didn't know why.
"I'm fine," the young wizard said, and suddenly he looked it as well; that chilly anger fading back into the warmth and kind intelligence he'd displayed before. "I simply disagree with you. And what was it that Professor McGonagall told you all those years—sorry, months—ago? That the Dursleys are the worst sort of muggles? I don't believe that's a good household for Harry Potter."
Albus stared at Hadrian. What? "How could you possibly know that?" he asked, flabbergasted. He and Minerva had been alone on the street that night; she'd watched the Dursleys all day and told him her opinion on them. There was no way this boy could've heard that. And what was that comment about years?
Hadrian simply smiled.
"Has your DADA position opened up yet?" he asked, completely out of the blue.
"Pardon?"
"The Defense Against the Dark Arts position," Hadrian clarified unnecessarily. "The job is a revolving door because of a jinx, which means you'll be needing a new professor for the next school year. I was simply wondering if the current one had already forfeited their position or if I have to wait to move my stuff in?"
Albus couldn't help it—he started to laugh.
"Just to clarify," he said, chuckling, "I know absolutely nothing about you except your name, you popped up very suddenly out of nowhere with knowledge no one else had, you are extremely powerful and yet hold no magical history, and now you are assuming that I'm going to just give you a position in my school? Not to be blunt, my boy, but why in Merlin's name do you think I would do such a thing?"
Hadrian tilted his head, watching him thoughtfully, and then he pulled a few items out of his pockets and put them on the desk.
There were very few times in his life that Albus Dumbledore was truly at a loss for words. But in this instance, staring down at three mangled objects that held the aura of destroyed dark magic—well, he honestly couldn't think of a single thing to say.
"There's four more," Hadrian said quietly. "I know where each of them are—well, where three of them are. The fourth is more of a moving target which makes it harder, but I have a general idea. I also have the capability to destroy them, case in point what you see before you. You're right that you don't know me, but I will keep this school and its students safe."
"Are these...were these Horcruxes?" Albus asked, his hand reaching out and running over them in the air.
Hadrian nodded slowly. "Tom Riddle's. Voldemort's."
Albus looked up sharply, searching the younger wizard's expression for any hint of deception. The implications of such a statement...Albus sorely wished he could look into the boy's mind, see what he knew, determine what was of value and what wasn't. But unless he wanted to force his way in—thus breaking various laws and harming someone unnecessarily—then a look into Hadrian Gaunt's mind wasn't going to happen.
"So you're saying that Voldemort created seven Horcruxes?" Albus asked slowly. "He split his soul into eight pieces?"
Hadrian just nodded, not saying anything, allowing Albus time to process.
He'd always thought it possible, of course. Likely, even. That Tom had created a couple Horcruxes. But seven? Splitting your soul that many times, separating it into objects—Albus couldn't even begin to describe the horror he felt at the idea of such a thing. Tom had always been hungry for power and fearful of death, but to go that far? Would he really have done that?
"How did you find these?" Albus asked. "How do you know with certainty that he created seven?"
"You have many questions about me," Hadrian said, not answering the one just asked. "Many questions about the way I do things, where I come from, how I know things, why I'm suddenly here and invested. Maybe you'll even be suspicious of me, for a time. And I'm sorry to say, but I'm not going to answer your questions."
Albus opened his mouth to object. Hadrian continued before he could.
"I show you these as proof that I am not the enemy, and that I will do everything in my power to ensure that Voldemort never returns. I am here to protect the next generation and to fix wrongs that have been left uncorrected.
"And right now I'm here to fix your wrong and protect Harry James Potter. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin will make excellent guardians, and I will fight you tooth and nail to get Harry removed from the Dursleys. So. With the limited knowledge you currently have on me and my actions, what is your decision?"
For a long moment, Albus just watched him. This wasn't how he'd expected his day (week, month, year) to go. Hadrian Gaunt had shown up in a practical puff of smoke and gotten right to work. He had no known background. He had knowledge no one on the Light side had, but that the Death Eaters might. He was fiercely protective of a child he never met. He found and destroyed Horcruxes like it was natural to do so. He carried the name of a dark, dead family.
Taking all of that into account, there was only one thing Albus could say.
"Our current DADA professor Andrea Shaldon has turned in her letter of resignation for the end of the school year because her father has health issues, and needs looking after. So yes, the position is open for the coming year. You may have it. I will also write a letter to the ministry urging for the immediate legal transfer of custody of Harry Potter from his aunt and uncle and to his godfather."
Hadrian let out a slow breath, almost shaky. The man's words had been confident but he hadn't been 100% sure Albus would trust him and his actions. He'd been worried this would all fall apart because Albus said no.
Because of this, Albus offered the young man (how old was he? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? Older than Lily and James had been) a warm smile. "It has been a pleasure to meet you, Hadrian. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"
Hadrian hesitated for a moment, thoughtful, and then his eyes sparked and he said, "Yes, actually. There is one thing..."