The library felt eerily silent after Snape's departure, but Hadrian knew better than to relax. He had to move quickly.
Carefully, he pulled the book from behind his back and examined the cover. The leather was cracked and ancient, the title barely legible: "The Lost Arts of Shadow Magic."
This was it—the key to understanding the strange abilities that had been manifesting within him. The way shadows seemed to coil around his fingers when he was deep in thought. The whispers in the dark that no one else could hear.
He flipped through the pages, his emerald eyes scanning the faded ink. The text spoke of magic long forgotten, spells that existed beyond the normal understanding of wizards.
Then, one passage caught his attention:
"True mastery of the shadows requires more than incantations. It demands understanding. To control the darkness, one must first embrace it."
Hadrian traced the words with his fingertips, a shiver running down his spine.
"Embrace it?" he whispered.
A sudden gust of wind flickered through the library, extinguishing the candle nearest to him. Darkness crept closer.
And then… he heard it.
A voice. Soft, almost like a whisper against the very fabric of the air.
"You are not alone."
Hadrian's breath caught in his throat.
The shadows around him thickened, coiling like living tendrils. It was as if the very darkness of the Restricted Section was alive, responding to him.
He clenched his fist, and for the briefest moment, the shadows obeyed.
Then—footsteps.
Not Snape this time.
Someone else was coming.
Hadrian shoved the book into his robes and slipped between the bookshelves, moving with practiced silence. Whoever it was, he wasn't about to get caught twice in one night.
As he reached the far end of the Restricted Section, he risked a glance back.
And what he saw made his blood run cold.
A tall figure stood in the dim light, their features hidden beneath a dark hood. But their presence alone was suffocating, radiating something far more sinister than Snape's probing gaze.
The figure slowly turned their head—as if they could sense him.
Hadrian didn't wait to find out.
He darted out of the library, his mind racing.
That wasn't a student. That wasn't a professor.
So who—or what—was lurking in Hogwarts at this hour?
And why did it feel like they had been waiting for him?
—