Hadrian Peverel: The Lord Of Haven

Chapter 4

The moon hung low over the Scottish Highlands, casting long shadows across the untamed landscape. Hadrian stood at the edge of a clearing, his cloak still against the evening wind. The air smelled of damp earth, pine, and something heavier—magic, raw and unrestrained, lingering like a pulse beneath the surface.

He was being watched.

He had been followed for at least half an hour now. The presence stalking him was careful, calculated, but Hadrian had allowed it. If they had intended to attack, they would have tried already. No, this was a test. They wanted to see what he would do.

Amused, he tilted his head slightly. "You may as well step into the open. Unless you plan to observe all night."

The silence stretched. Then, slowly, a figure emerged from the trees.

The man was tall, lean but powerful, dressed in dark, weather-worn robes. His brown hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, streaked with hints of silver, though he was far from old. Golden eyes, sharp and calculating, flickered in the moonlight. He moved carefully, his posture casual but ready, like a predator assessing a potential threat.

A werewolf.

Hadrian recognized him now. Conrad Burke. A former Hit Wizard who had been turned nearly a decade ago. He had disappeared from wizarding society after his infection, never aligning with Greyback's pack nor seeking protection from the Ministry.

That made him a survivor. And survivors were worth more than blind loyalty.

Conrad stopped a few paces away, watching Hadrian carefully. "Not many wizards come this far into the wildlands alone," he said, voice even.

Hadrian smirked. "Not many wizards are me."

Conrad huffed, not quite a laugh, but something close. "You knew I was here." It wasn't a question.

"You weren't exactly subtle," Hadrian said. "If you were, I wouldn't have noticed at all."

That got a reaction. Conrad's eyes narrowed slightly, but there was something in them now—curiosity, perhaps even the slightest bit of respect. Good. That meant he was listening.

"I assume you have a reason for seeking me out," Conrad said, folding his arms. "So let's skip the dramatics. What do you want?"

Hadrian didn't hesitate. "Loyalty. Strength. Discipline." His gaze was steady, unwavering. "And in return, I offer protection. Resources. A future that doesn't require you to scrape at the Ministry's feet or live like an animal under Greyback's rule."

Conrad's expression didn't change, but the air between them did. A tension, subtle but unmistakable.

"Greyback's rule," Conrad repeated. There was no anger in his tone, only careful neutrality. "And you assume I don't follow him?"

Hadrian raised a brow. "If you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You would have tried to rip out my throat the moment you caught my scent."

Conrad let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Fair enough." His golden eyes studied Hadrian for a long moment, as if searching for the trap in his words. "And if I say no?"

Hadrian smiled, sharp and knowing. "Then you walk away, and we pretend this meeting never happened. I don't force loyalty. It's either given freely, or it's worthless."

That, more than anything, seemed to catch Conrad off guard. He had likely expected arrogance, control, the same empty promises the Ministry had once tried to offer his kind. Instead, he found something else entirely.

Slowly, he nodded. "I won't decide on the spot. But I'll listen."

Hadrian inclined his head slightly. "Then walk with me."

As they began moving through the clearing, the trees stretching high above them, Hadrian knew this was only the beginning. He didn't need an army overnight. He needed the right people. People who would build something with him.

And Conrad Burke? He was exactly that kind of man.

The walk was silent at first, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Conrad moved beside him with the ease of a man who was used to walking unseen, his footsteps light despite his size. Hadrian could sense the tension beneath the surface, though—something coiled and waiting, a sharp instinct that had likely kept him alive all these years.

Hadrian understood. Survival required more than strength. It required patience, control, and the ability to recognize when something bigger than yourself was taking shape. Conrad wasn't the type to follow blindly, but that was precisely why Hadrian had chosen to seek him out.

After a while, Conrad finally spoke. "Say I agree to this." His tone was even, but Hadrian could hear the edge of something cautious beneath it. "What exactly does this future of yours look like?"

Hadrian didn't break stride. "Peverell Haven will be a sovereign power. Not a refuge, not a rebellion. A force." His green eyes gleamed in the dim light as he turned his head slightly. "It will not belong to the Ministry. It will not belong to Dumbledore. It will not belong to the Dark Lord." A pause. "It will belong to those who build it."

Conrad exhaled through his nose, thoughtful. "And what place do werewolves have in it?"

"The same as anyone else," Hadrian said without hesitation. "No chains. No begging for scraps. No being treated like a second-class citizen because of what you are."

There it was. The slightest flicker of emotion in Conrad's expression. A brief, quiet thing, gone as soon as it had appeared.

"Big promises," Conrad murmured.

Hadrian smirked. "I don't make promises I can't keep."

They walked for another few moments in silence before Conrad spoke again, his voice lower this time. "You do realize the risk you're taking, don't you?" He glanced at Hadrian, unreadable. "You open your doors to my kind, and you make enemies in places you might not expect."

Hadrian chuckled softly. "I've already made enemies in places they least expected."

That earned him a short laugh from Conrad, dry but amused. "Fair enough."

They reached a small outcropping overlooking the valley below. The landscape stretched wide, the distant hills rolling into the horizon beneath the pale glow of the moon.

Conrad crossed his arms. "You have resources. Influence. If you're truly Peverell's heir, you have more gold than you'll ever need." His gaze slid to Hadrian, sharp. "Why come looking for people like me? You could build your little empire without us."

Hadrian studied him for a moment before he spoke. "Because you understand what it means to fight for survival. To be cast aside. To know that strength means nothing when the world is already against you." He let his voice drop slightly, controlled but edged with something dangerous. "You also understand discipline. Loyalty. And I don't mean to me—I mean to your own. To the people the world refuses to protect."

Conrad held his gaze.

Hadrian continued, voice calm. "I don't want desperate men. I don't want killers without cause. I want those who are willing to build something greater. If you're looking for a place where you can hunt without consequence, where you can do whatever you want, then leave. You won't like what I'm creating."

Conrad was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "Greyback would hate you."

Hadrian's smirk was razor-sharp. "Good."

For the first time, Conrad's lips twitched in something that almost resembled a smile. He tilted his head, considering. "You're not like any wizard I've met."

"I get that a lot."

Conrad huffed out another quiet laugh, shaking his head. Then he turned slightly, glancing toward the forest beyond. "I have… people," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "Others like me. Some younger, some older. None of them trust the Ministry. None of them would ever follow Greyback. But they don't have anywhere else to go."

Hadrian nodded once. "Then bring them to me."

Conrad gave him a long, searching look, as if measuring the weight of those words. Then, finally, he extended a hand.

Hadrian took it without hesitation.

Something settled between them. An understanding.

Conrad wasn't a man who followed blindly. But Hadrian wasn't a man who needed blind loyalty.

This was the first step toward something more.

Hadrian returned to the manor just before dawn. The wards pulsed in recognition as he passed through the outer gates, the air shimmering faintly before allowing him through. He could feel the magic of the estate settling around him, shifting like something alive, acknowledging his presence as its master.

Inside, the great hall was quiet, but he was not alone.

Matthias Rowle stood near the hearth, arms crossed, his sharp blue eyes tracking Hadrian the moment he entered. The fire cast flickering shadows across his face, accentuating the rough edges of a man who had spent too long on the outside of a world that had once been his.

"You took your time," Matthias said, his voice neutral.

Hadrian smirked, unbothered. "I had a meeting."

Matthias exhaled through his nose. "With the werewolves."

It wasn't a question.

Hadrian stepped further into the room, unfastening the clasp of his cloak. "Conrad Burke. He's bringing others."

Matthias's expression remained unreadable. He was silent for a beat too long before he finally spoke. "You trust him?"

Hadrian tilted his head slightly. "I trust his interests align with mine."

Matthias let out a slow breath, shifting his weight. "The others will need time to adjust."

"Let them," Hadrian said smoothly. "But they'll fall in line."

Matthias studied him for a long moment before nodding. "They'll listen. They respect you." A pause. "Some more than others."

Hadrian chuckled. "Let me guess. Elena?"

Matthias smirked, a dry, knowing look in his eyes. "She's not the only one."

Hadrian sighed, unfastening the cuffs of his sleeves as he rolled them up slightly. "I knew some would hesitate."

Matthias's smirk faded slightly. "They're not questioning you." His voice was calm, measured. "They're questioning the world they've been raised in."

Hadrian didn't respond immediately. He moved toward the side table where a decanter of firewhiskey sat, pouring himself a glass with unhurried precision. The scent of oak and spice filled the air.

Matthias continued watching him. "Goblins and werewolves. If you bring in vampires next, Elena might actually hex you."

Hadrian chuckled, lifting his glass slightly. "Noted."

Matthias shook his head, but there was something thoughtful in his gaze. "You've already reshaped how they see things," he admitted. "Even if they don't realize it yet."

Hadrian took a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down. "That's the idea."

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn't heavy.

Finally, Matthias exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I'll speak to them," he said. "Make sure they understand where we stand on this."

Hadrian nodded. "Good."

Matthias hesitated for half a second before turning toward the door. As he reached it, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "For what it's worth," he said, "you're forcing them to think. That's more than the Ministry ever did."

Hadrian smirked. "Thinking is dangerous. That's why they tried so hard to stop it."

Matthias huffed a quiet laugh and left.

Hadrian turned back toward the fire, watching the flames curl and flicker. The foundation was set. The pieces were falling into place.

And soon, the wizarding world would begin to notice.

The first sign that the wizarding world was beginning to take notice came three days later.

Hadrian sat in the private study of the manor, reviewing the latest reports from Gringotts. Ragnok had wasted no time in setting his people to work—metallurgists were already analyzing the Peverell techniques, curse-breakers had been dispatched to reinforce Haven's future defenses, and discreet banking channels were being established outside the Ministry's oversight.

Everything was progressing smoothly.

Then the letter arrived.

A sharp knock at the door announced Jonas Flint's entrance. He strode inside without waiting for permission, his usual smirk absent. Instead, he held a sealed parchment between two fingers, flipping it idly.

"Interesting news," Jonas said. "Our little operation has caught the Ministry's attention."

Hadrian set aside the Gringotts report and extended a hand. "Let me see."

Jonas flicked the parchment toward him. Hadrian caught it easily, his fingers brushing over the unbroken wax seal. It was not the Ministry's emblem.

It was Dumbledore's.

Hadrian huffed a quiet laugh, amused. "That was faster than I expected."

Jonas dropped into one of the chairs across from him, stretching his legs out. "Word's been spreading. People are talking about you, whether you like it or not." He tilted his head slightly. "Dumbledore must have caught wind of something."

Hadrian didn't respond immediately. He slid a letter opener under the wax seal, slicing it open with precise ease before unfolding the parchment. The handwriting was as familiar as ever—elegant, composed, carrying the weight of experience.

Hadrian,

I believe it is time we speak.

You have made an impression in circles that do not often entertain strangers, and I find myself most curious about the direction you intend to take.

Hogwarts is always open to visitors. I trust you will find the accommodations… familiar.

Albus Dumbledore

Hadrian smirked. No direct accusations, no warnings, just polite curiosity wrapped in layers of subtle expectation.

Jonas raised a brow. "So? What's the old man want?"

"He wants to talk," Hadrian said simply, folding the letter.

Jonas snorted. "Of course he does." He gave Hadrian a knowing look. "You going?"

Hadrian leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping idly against the letter's edge. "Eventually."

Jonas smirked. "I'd love to see that conversation."

Hadrian chuckled. "I imagine it will be… enlightening."

He tapped the letter once more before setting it aside. Dumbledore's notice had come sooner than expected, but that only meant one thing.

Hadrian's presence in this world was no longer a secret.

And soon, no one would be able to ignore him.

Hadrian did not go to Hogwarts immediately. He had no intention of moving on Dumbledore's timeline. The old man had reached out, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. That meant Hadrian held the advantage, and he had no intention of wasting it.

Instead, he spent the next week focusing on securing Haven's foundations.

Conrad Burke returned three days after their initial meeting, bringing with him four others. They were wary, cautious, but they listened, which was more than most were willing to do. Hadrian met with them personally, ensuring they understood the rules of Haven—no mindless violence, no subservience, no chaos.

Only discipline. Only strength.

By the fifth day, they had sworn their loyalty.

The goblins, true to their word, had begun their own preparations. Ragnok had sent notice that several independent goblin-run enterprises were already looking to relocate to Haven once construction began. Businesses free from Ministry taxation.

The underground economy Hadrian envisioned was beginning to take shape.

And still, word continued to spread.

It started in Knockturn Alley, where whispers of a new power rising outside the Ministry's reach spread like wildfire. From there, it leaked into the more hidden parts of Diagon Alley—curse-breakers, artifact smugglers, those who operated in the shadows but still held to their own codes.

Some came looking for him. Others simply waited, watching.

Hadrian let them.

Then, on the eighth day, an owl arrived at the manor.

Unlike Dumbledore's letter, this one bore the official seal of the Ministry of Magic.

Matthias was the one to bring it to him, dropping it on Hadrian's desk with a look of faint amusement.

"You've annoyed someone," Matthias said, crossing his arms.

Hadrian smirked, breaking the seal and unfolding the parchment. His eyes flicked over the words, absorbing them in seconds.

Lord Peverell,

It has come to the Ministry's attention that you have recently acquired and reactivated a property of significant magical interest. In accordance with wizarding law, all such holdings must be registered and subject to Ministry inspection.

A representative will be dispatched within the week to ensure compliance with all necessary regulations. Please be prepared for the visit at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Barty Crouch, Sr.

Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Hadrian let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Predictable."

Matthias raised a brow. "They're sending an inspector?"

Hadrian set the letter down. "They want to see if they can intimidate me into compliance." He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "They'll fail."

Matthias smirked slightly. "What's the plan?"

Hadrian tilted his head. "Let them come."

Matthias chuckled. "I hope whoever they send is prepared."

Hadrian's green eyes gleamed. "They won't be."

The game had officially begun.