Chapter Text
Hadrian James Potter was done—utterly, completely, and irrevocably done—with the wizarding world.
He stood beneath the waning moonlight on the stone balcony of Grimmauld Place, the London wind tugging at his cloak like phantom hands. The cold seeped into his bones, but it was nothing compared to the numbness that had settled in his chest. The fire that once burned in him—the desperate hope for justice, for belonging—had been smothered by years of lies, manipulation, and betrayal.
Dumbledore. The name alone made bile rise in his throat.
The man who had always seemed to glow with serene wisdom, with carefully constructed fatherly warmth, was nothing more than a tyrant draped in robes of benevolence. The “Leader of the Light” had hidden behind centuries of fame and the adoration of blind fools who praised his every word. But the truth was darker. Rotting.
How could a man who had defeated the dark wizard Grindelwald—a man who supposedly fought for “the greater good”—fail to stop Tom Marvolo Riddle? Voldemort was his mess, his shadow made manifest, and yet he passed the burden of war onto a child. A child who hadn’t been given a chance to grieve, to grow, to choose.
The Boy Who Lived. The Savior. The Chosen One.
It was all a farce.
And Hadrian was tired of performing.
The final straw had come not from Voldemort, but from the very people who had once claimed to love him.
-
They had used him.
Ginevra Molly Weasley. The girl who once stammered and flushed red at the mere sight of him. Behind her simpering smiles was a knife. A marriage contract—illegal, binding, cursed—linking their lives without his consent. All so she could wear the Potter name like a crown.
And it wasn’t just her. It was Molly, who fed him drug-laced meals. Percy, who combed through his vaults for political leverage. Ron, who fumed with envy and called it brotherhood. And perhaps worst of all: Sirius and Remus. The men who were supposed to protect him. His father’s best friends. They had done nothing.
They had known.
They had known about the potions. The loyalty draughts. The love spells. The subtle magic woven into his food, his drinks, the very ink he signed with. They had known—and remained silent, kneeling behind Dumbledore like faithful hounds.
Hadrian remembered the way Cassi's eyes had burned when they uncovered the truth at Gringotts. The goblins had welcomed them, their fury righteous. The Potter siblings were Goblin Friends, and that sacred title meant protection. It meant justice.
They burned the contracts. Sealed the accounts. Freed the siblings from the magical chains that had been laid upon them.
But freedom came at a cost.
-
The worst betrayal wasn’t what they did to him. It was what they took.
Fred and George Weasley.
Hadrian’s heart clenched just thinking their names.
The war had taken many things from him—innocence, safety, his identity—but Fred and George were the worst. They had been his light. His joy. His soulmates. No one knew, not even the Order, that he had loved them both. That he had spent countless nights curled between them, laughter and love wrapped around him like a second skin.
He remembered warm touches, lazy mornings filled with stolen kisses, the way Fred would press a kiss to his shoulder while George nuzzled his neck. They were loud and brash, but with Hadrian, they had been gentle.
And then they were gone.
Third year. The staged attack. Dumbledore had called it a Death Eater infiltration, but it had been nothing more than theater. Vampires and werewolves, summoned by the headmaster himself, under false flags and glamours.
Hogwarts had bled that night.
Students had been mauled. Some killed. And Fred and George… they were among the fallen. Bitten. Vanished. Declared dead. No bodies. No funerals. Just silence.
Hadrian had shattered.
He spent weeks locked in his room, refusing food, sleep, words. Cassi and Draco took turns watching him, desperate to keep him breathing. Luna sang soft songs while Neville cast quiet silencing charms to block out Hadrian’s sobs. His weight dropped. His magic dimmed. His spirit broke.
But slowly, painfully, he clawed his way back.
-
Meanwhile, in Forks, Washington, Alice Cullen was two seconds away from throwing Isabella Swan into the nearest river.
“Do you think Fred will bite me soon? I want to be turned before my birthday,” Bella chirped, her brown eyes wide with faux innocence.
Alice forced a smile, but her patience was paper-thin. “Bella, we’ve talked about this. Turning you would break the treaty. And you’re not ready for the consequences.”
“But the Volturi—”
“Are a problem because of you,” Alice snapped, her voice icy. “They only know about us because you can’t stay away from the supernatural.”
Bella pouted, crossing her arms. “I just want to be part of the family.”
Alice nearly laughed. Family? Bella had caused nothing but rifts. Fred and George barely spoke now. Tension simmered between the twins in ways Alice had never seen before. Jasper was constantly on edge. Even Rosalie, who usually stayed detached, had nearly torn Bella apart during a particularly tense dinner.
Bella was a blood singer—that much was clear. Her scent intoxicated Fred. But she was not his mate.
Alice had once thought she was. She even hoped for it. She’d seen Fred smile, laugh—feel—around Bella in ways that reminded her of who he was before the change.
But that hope had withered.
And now, as Bella rattled on about her “destiny,” Alice’s vision flickered.
A boy. Emerald eyes. Raven hair. Soft laughter. Magic.
⸻
The world around her faded.
She stood in a meadow lit by morning sun, wildflowers swaying in the breeze. A young man with pale skin and striking green eyes was giggling as George hoisted him off the ground.
“George! Put me down! I’m not a bloody doll!”
George laughed, his arms locked around the boy’s waist. “Never, my little kitten.”
Fred appeared behind them, wrapping his arms around both. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll rescue you… and steal a kiss as my reward.”
Hadrian.
Alice didn’t know how she knew his name, but it rang like a bell in her soul. Hadrian. He glowed with magic—fierce, ancient, unbroken. His laughter was light. His touch was home.
George and Fred pressed their foreheads to either side of his face. Two pieces of a whole. Their soulmate.
Both of them.
The vision shimmered, then snapped back.
Alice gasped, her golden eyes wide.
“Oh my god.”
It wasn’t Bella. It had never been Bella.
Fred and George’s true mate wasn’t the mortal brat whining in front of her—it was Hadrian. And he was coming.
Alice’s chest swelled with joy. She had seen it. She had felt it. Their coven wouldn’t just survive—it would be whole.
Finally, her brothers would be complete.
And Bella?
Bella was just a stepping stone on the path to something eternal.