Hadrian Peverel: The Lord Of Haven

Chapter 6

October 1976 – One Week After the Ministry's Visit

Hadrian stood in the study, rolling up the latest reports from Gringotts. The goblins had not disappointed him. The first shipments of rare metals and enchanted materials were already secured, and Haven's financial infrastructure was forming rapidly.

Matthias had doubled the guard rotation, ensuring that everyone inside the manor's walls was prepared for unexpected visitors. They all knew what was coming. The Ministry would return, sooner or later.

So would Dumbledore.

Hadrian exhaled softly, letting his fingers skim the edge of the parchment. The old man had waited longer than expected, but that only confirmed what Hadrian already knew—he was being studied.

Dumbledore wasn't a man who acted rashly. He observed. He planned.

And now? He was ready to make his first move.

The knock at the door came exactly when Hadrian expected it.

"Come in," he called.

The door swung open, and Matthias stepped inside. His expression was unreadable, but Hadrian knew him well enough to see the tension beneath it.

"They're here."

Hadrian smirked. "About time."

Matthias folded his arms. "Not just Dumbledore. He brought… others."

Hadrian raised a brow. "Ah. Let me guess." He tilted his head slightly, amused. "Black and Potter?"

Matthias gave him a dry look. "You already knew."

Hadrian chuckled. "It was the logical choice."

James Potter and Sirius Black. Dumbledore's golden boys. The heart of the Marauders. One heir to a noble family, another heir who had rejected his own.

And both of them, fiercely loyal to the Order.

Hadrian set the parchment down, smoothing his sleeves before striding toward the door. "Let's not keep them waiting, then."

Matthias followed, his footsteps steady beside Hadrian's. "Jonas is enjoying himself too much already."

"Of course he is," Hadrian murmured. "He loves an audience."

Matthias shook his head, muttering something about arrogant duelists, but Hadrian was already stepping into the great hall.

The moment he entered, all eyes turned to him.

At the center of the room stood three men.

Dumbledore, his presence calm but commanding, dressed in deep blue robes lined with silver trim.

James Potter, arms crossed, expression set but uncertain, his hazel eyes scanning Hadrian with barely concealed scrutiny.

Sirius Black, standing just behind James, his stance deceptively relaxed—but his grey eyes sharp, watchful.

Hadrian smiled. So this is how Dumbledore wanted to play it.

"Headmaster," he greeted smoothly. "Welcome to my home."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Lord Peverell. Thank you for receiving us."

Hadrian's gaze flickered to James and Sirius. "And your companions?"

James squared his shoulders slightly. "James Potter."

"Sirius Black," the other said, voice even.

Hadrian smirked. "Yes. I know."

James's jaw tightened. "Then you know why we're here."

Hadrian chuckled. "I can guess."

Dumbledore watched the exchange, his expression giving away nothing.

Sirius's gaze drifted over the manor walls, the structure, the people standing at attention. He exhaled slowly. "This place looks like an army base."

Hadrian's smirk didn't waver. "Does it?"

James scoffed. "You act like a man preparing for war."

Hadrian's green eyes gleamed. "That's because I am."

Silence stretched between them.

Dumbledore exhaled softly. "War is already upon us, Lord Peverell. The question is… how you intend to fight it."

Hadrian let the words settle before answering.

"Not the way you do."

Dumbledore's blue eyes studied him carefully. "Then how?"

Hadrian smiled, slow and sharp.

"By winning."

Dumbledore watched Hadrian Peverell with quiet scrutiny, his expression calm, unreadable.

He had come here with open curiosity, but also with purpose.

Hadrian was an enigma. He had appeared suddenly, claimed an ancient, forgotten title, and immediately begun moving in political, financial, and military circles that even seasoned wizards struggled to navigate. He had struck alliances with goblins, recruited outcasts and dangerous individuals, and was rumored to be building something unprecedented.

Dumbledore had seen many men rise to power in his lifetime. Most followed predictable patterns. But Hadrian? He did not fit neatly into any mold.

That made him dangerous.

It also made him worth understanding.

Which was why Dumbledore had not come alone.

He had brought James Potter and Sirius Black, not because they were his strongest fighters or his most devoted allies—no, not yet. But because they were the future.

James would inherit the Potter name, the wealth, the legacy. His influence over the next generation of witches and wizards would be immeasurable.

Sirius, despite his rebellion against the House of Black, still carried their bloodline. If he survived the war, he would hold sway over those who wished to break free of Voldemort's grasp.

They were both young, impulsive, and untested in war, but they were also intelligent and fiercely loyal to their cause.

Dumbledore needed to see how they reacted to Hadrian.

Would they see a potential ally? Would they reject him as another Dark Lord in the making? Would Hadrian himself attempt to recruit them?

This meeting was not just about Hadrian.

It was about the pieces shifting around him.

And as Dumbledore watched James and Sirius struggle to understand the man before them, he knew this meeting had already proven one thing.

Hadrian Peverell was not like Voldemort.

He was something else entirely.

Dumbledore folded his hands together, watching as James squared his shoulders.

"You talk like him," James said, voice edged with something close to accusation.

Hadrian tilted his head slightly, considering him. "Him?"

James exhaled sharply. "You know who."

Hadrian chuckled, amused. "I'd rather you say it outright. It's dangerous to assume I can read minds, don't you think?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You act like this is a game."

Hadrian met his gaze, unbothered. "Everything is a game. The trick is knowing which pieces matter."

James's jaw tightened. "You didn't answer the question."

Hadrian took a slow step forward, letting them feel the weight of his presence. Neither of them backed away. Good.

"Tell me, James," Hadrian said smoothly. "Do I truly sound like Voldemort? Or did someone tell you that I should?"

James froze.

Sirius's shoulders tensed slightly, but he said nothing.

Dumbledore watched the moment closely. Hadrian had shifted the conversation in an instant, forcing them to confront their own perceptions. It was a test.

James's fingers twitched slightly, curling into a fist. "You speak of power. Of war. You're building something—something that you refuse to let the Ministry control. That's exactly what he's doing."

Hadrian's smirk was slow. "And yet, I notice you didn't say the Order."

James hesitated.

Hadrian continued, voice calm. "Your fight against Voldemort is not the same as your fight against the Ministry, is it? You're expected to defend a system that barely protects the people fighting for it." His green eyes gleamed. "Doesn't that seem… foolish?"

James clenched his jaw. "We fight because it's the right thing to do."

Hadrian chuckled. "Do you?"

Sirius exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You sound like a bloody Slytherin."

Hadrian smirked. "I take that as a compliment."

James scowled. "Of course you do."

Dumbledore finally stepped forward, diffusing the tension with a soft, knowing smile. "Perhaps we should focus less on House divisions and more on the heart of the matter."

Hadrian turned his attention back to him, amusement still flickering behind his gaze. "By all means, Headmaster. What is the heart of the matter?"

Dumbledore held his gaze steadily. "Voldemort will not allow you to build what you are building. He does not tolerate rivals."

Hadrian's expression remained unreadable. "Then I suppose I'll have to remove him from my path."

James's breath hitched slightly at the sheer certainty in Hadrian's tone.

Sirius exhaled slowly, watching him more carefully now. Not just as a political player, not just as a potential threat, but as something… else.

Dumbledore's expression did not change, but he inclined his head slightly. "You are confident in your victory, then?"

Hadrian's smirk did not fade. "Confidence is irrelevant. Only results matter."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken meaning.

Then, finally, Dumbledore nodded. "Then I believe you and I must speak privately."

Hadrian chuckled. "I imagined we must."

He turned, gesturing toward one of the side chambers. "Shall we?"

Dumbledore moved without hesitation, stepping toward the doorway.

Hadrian followed—but as he passed James and Sirius, he paused just long enough to murmur something quietly.

"You should ask yourselves who truly benefits from the war lasting as long as possible."

And with that, he left them standing there, frowning after him.

James let out a slow breath, his jaw tightening as he watched Hadrian disappear into the adjoining chamber with Dumbledore. His hands curled into fists at his sides, frustration simmering beneath his skin.

Sirius glanced at him, then back at the closed door, his grey eyes narrowed. "He's… not what I expected."

James exhaled sharply. "He's a manipulative bastard, that's what he is."

Sirius tilted his head slightly. "Maybe. But he's also not wrong."

James turned to him, incredulous. "Not wrong?"

Sirius shrugged. "He didn't lie, did he? The Ministry is useless. We've all said it a hundred times." He gave James a knowing look. "You don't trust them either."

James scowled, crossing his arms. "That doesn't mean I trust him."

Sirius was silent for a moment, then sighed. "No. But he's not Voldemort."

James looked away, his jaw still tight. He knew that. Hadrian hadn't used fear, hadn't tried to threaten them. If anything, he had mocked the comparison.

And that was what unsettled James the most. He had been so sure what to expect. A dark lord in the making. A future threat.

But Hadrian had turned the conversation on them.

"You should ask yourselves who truly benefits from the war lasting as long as possible."

The words sat uneasily in James's mind. He hated that.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the ceiling before muttering, "I don't like the way he watches people."

James frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He's always assessing. Calculating," Sirius said, his voice lower. "He doesn't react like other people. It's like he's already planned four steps ahead, and he's just waiting to see if you'll walk into them."

James exhaled. "That's what makes him dangerous."

Sirius nodded slowly. "Yeah. But it also makes him interesting."

James shot him a sharp look. "Don't even think about it."

Sirius smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Relax, Prongs. I don't take orders well, remember?"

James let out a breath, shaking his head. "That's what I'm afraid of."

They both fell into silence, staring at the closed door where Hadrian and Dumbledore had disappeared.

Whatever was happening in that room?

It was going to change everything.

The door closed with a quiet click, sealing Hadrian and Dumbledore inside the private chamber. The room was smaller than the great hall but no less imposing, with dark wood paneling, high arched windows, and a large desk positioned against the far wall. A single enchanted lamp cast a soft, golden glow, flickering slightly as the magic within it stirred.

Hadrian strode toward the desk but did not sit. Instead, he turned and faced Dumbledore fully, arms resting loosely at his sides, his expression unreadable.

Dumbledore studied him in return, his blue eyes thoughtful but keen. "You have built something formidable in a very short amount of time," he said. "Many would find that… impressive."

Hadrian smirked. "And many would find it concerning."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "The Ministry certainly does."

Hadrian chuckled. "As they should."

Silence stretched between them, weighted and deliberate. Dumbledore was waiting, watching, but Hadrian refused to be the first to break it. This was a game of positioning, and he had no intention of giving ground.

Finally, Dumbledore exhaled softly. "I did not come to threaten you, Lord Peverell."

Hadrian raised a brow. "No?"

Dumbledore's gaze remained steady. "No. I came to understand you."

Hadrian chuckled, stepping closer. "And have you?"

Dumbledore's lips twitched, just slightly. "Not yet. But I suspect I will."

Hadrian tilted his head. "And what will you do with that understanding?"

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, he said, "Decide whether you are an ally or a threat."

Hadrian smirked. "I imagine you already have a preference."

Dumbledore sighed, folding his hands behind his back. "I have seen many rise to power with noble intentions, only to be consumed by the very structures they sought to replace."

Hadrian leaned against the desk. "And yet, you still play within the system."

Dumbledore's eyes darkened slightly. "It is what has allowed me to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

Hadrian's smirk didn't fade. "And how is that working out for you?"

A flicker of something sharp passed through Dumbledore's expression—there and gone in an instant. But Hadrian saw it.

He knew the truth even if Dumbledore wouldn't say it. The war was not going well. The Ministry was incompetent, the Order wasn't winning, and Voldemort's forces were only growing stronger.

Dumbledore sighed. "I do not claim perfection, Lord Peverell. Nor do I claim to have all the answers."

"But you do claim authority," Hadrian pointed out. "You dictate how this war is fought. You choose who is worth saving. Who is beyond redemption."

Dumbledore's voice was quiet. "That is a burden no man should carry. And yet, someone must."

Hadrian studied him for a long moment. "You assume this war can be won without removing the rot at its core."

Dumbledore held his gaze. "And you assume it can only be won through absolute control."

Hadrian chuckled, shaking his head. "You still misunderstand me."

"Then tell me," Dumbledore said. "What is it that you truly want?"

Hadrian leaned forward slightly, his green eyes gleaming. "A world where we do not fight the same war again in twenty years. Where another Voldemort does not rise to take his place the moment this one falls."

Dumbledore was silent.

Hadrian's smirk faded slightly. "You fight to win this war. I fight to end all wars."

A long, heavy pause.

Then, Dumbledore exhaled softly. "And how, Lord Peverell, do you propose to do that?"

Hadrian smiled. "By making sure the world has no choice but to change."

The door opened with a quiet creak, and Hadrian stepped back into the great hall. The conversation with Dumbledore had been predictable, but not pointless. The old man had been testing him, measuring the scope of his ambition.

Hadrian had let him.

Dumbledore followed a moment later, his face carefully composed, his expression giving away nothing. But Hadrian could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched near the edge of his robes—small signs of a man deep in thought.

Sirius and James straightened as they re-entered, their gazes flickering between them, trying to read the aftermath of the conversation.

Hadrian smirked. "Did you miss me?"

Sirius scoffed. "Not particularly."

James, however, was watching Dumbledore. He wasn't foolish—he knew the headmaster better than most. He could see the way Dumbledore's usual calm had shifted, even if only slightly.

That alone put him on edge.

Hadrian glanced toward Matthias, who had remained near the entrance, arms crossed, his sharp blue eyes scanning the situation. Jonas still leaned against a column, looking entirely too entertained, while Catherine observed with a faint furrow in her brow, always analyzing.

Hadrian turned his gaze back to Dumbledore. "I assume we're done here?"

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. "For now."

James opened his mouth as if to speak but hesitated. Sirius glanced at him but didn't press.

Hadrian smirked. "A pleasure, as always, Headmaster."

Dumbledore's expression didn't change, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. "Take care, Lord Peverell."

Hadrian chuckled. "I always do."

With that, Dumbledore turned, motioning for James and Sirius to follow.

As they reached the entrance, Sirius cast one last glance over his shoulder, his grey eyes sharp with something between curiosity and suspicion. James, however, didn't look back.

Then, with a soft crack, they were gone.

Matthias exhaled. "That went well."

Jonas grinned. "I'd say that depends on how you define 'well.'"

Hadrian chuckled, shaking his head. "They came looking for reassurance. Instead, they left with questions."

Catherine finally spoke. "Will Dumbledore try to stop you?"

Hadrian's smirk was slow. "He doesn't know if he should yet."

Matthias folded his arms. "And the others?"

Hadrian exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "James doesn't trust me. Sirius is undecided. But neither of them dismissed me outright." His green eyes gleamed. "That's all I needed."

Jonas hummed. "So what now?"

Hadrian smiled.

"Now?" He turned, heading toward the main corridor. "Now, we move faster."