The Rise of Harry Potter

"Master!" Lutain cheered, slithering his way up onto the counter from a haphazard collection of empty boxes Adrian had stacked just for his friend. Lutain yawned largely, his scaled lips flapping in a way which never ceased to make Adrian smile, "Gifts? Gifts for the hatch-day?"

"Probably," Adrian blinked, fishing around for an apple, "although considering Bellatrix isn't here, I may not actually get anything. Don't worry, you'll still get to lounge around."

Lutain yawned again, showing off his brightly yellow belly and his strangely sandy brown scales.

Adrian didn't have any training or spellwork. He didn't have anything extra to read or assignments to complete. Best yet, he didn't need to do anything.

Which is how his father found him buried deep into a book about the magical animal species of southern Africa, nursing a cup of warm butterbeer and wearing two mismatched socks. The best part was that Adrian was sitting sideways on the chair, wearing the ratty sleeping garments he knew his father hated, still coated with the fine crumbs of messy breakfast pastries.

Voldemort's nose wrinkled in distaste the moment he laid eyes on Adrian's posture and appearance, "I'm not sure what I am most aghast by."

Adrian peered up over the book, blinking silently and waiting for the hailstorm to begin.

His father opened his mouth, poised for the verbal thrashing, before his jaw closed with a click. The red eyes conveyed all the disgust needed, although it was amazingly reigned in.

"Come along," Voldemort grunted, losing his image of a father-figure with how his shoulders slumped in annoyance, "Nagini is excited to see you open your gifts."

He had gifts?

This was beginning to be one of the most surreal experiences in Adrian's life.

He did have gifts. Stacked in tiny piles in one of the rooms nearest to to where the post delivered. All of the packages likely had been delivered and thoroughly checked by the wards. He spotted the trademark embossed silver wrapping paper from the Malfoys, something reddish brown signed by Theodore Nott. Boxes from Pansy and shockingly enough, Hermione nestled themselves around other boxes and packages.

Draco sent him books, as well as Hermione and Pansy. It appeared books were the best default present for him. Theodore Nott tried a step further, gifting him an elaborate set of ink sticks used to create custom coloured inks of varying viscosities.

At that point, all of the gifts became better.

He had been gifted a larger cage for Lutain, nearing the size of a full sized trunk with realistic canyon walls and sandy plants growing in the substrate. It would be perfect to display his friend in his dorm room, while also granting the illusion of control. He was gifted a collection of books as well, a designer set each autographed by Newton Artemis Fido Scamander back in the early 1900's. A few even had hand drawn illustrations in the margin- ink smeared on the cover with handwritten note to a Lestrange.

The real golden snitch of Adrian's gifts, was the single crystal vial with a Animagus Transformation potion inside of it.

"I hope you know how to use that," His father sniffed, eyeing the contents with a bored expression, "In the rare occasion it is something useful, you are permitted to practice the transformation."

Adrian had the Animagus Transformation potion, he had it and he hadn't needed to even buy it.

For a split second, Adrian forgot completely that his father was Lord Voldemort.

He could hear the distant childhood laughs and cries of a birthday party, the late summer sun warm his skin as children played quidditch and he sat on the porch. He could almost taste the sweet lemonade and feel the stifling heat vanish with the slightest breeze.

This time it was his party, it was his.

He couldn't remember James Potter in his childhood memory. He remembered someone walking to the porch, seating themselves beside him and talking with a gentle lilting voice as the breeze once more rose and stirred the air.

Red eyes looked downwards curiously and a slightly amused smirk tilted lips as Adrian leant against his father with the muffled imagination of what it should have been.

Lutain jolted in surprise when Adrian nearly threw the boxes from his lap. He clutched the crystal vial in his left hand tightly as he jumped the small gap and wrapped his small arms around the waist and black coat of the imposing figure that had suddenly changed his world.

Voldemort was hit with a metaphorical freezing hex.

It was the best birthday Adrian ever had.

In some countries the age of thirteen was the age of adulthood in the magical world. It was obviously the age where his father assumed Adrian could start proving his worth.

It was ridiculous to send Adrian out on the field of battle with such inexperience. Adrian had abilities and skills most of his Death Eaters didn't- the pure fascination and desire to learn about magical creatures. He wasn't an experienced dueler; if he believed the scathing insults, then he was mediocre at best, with no imagination during a fight. He relied too much on a flimsy base ability for accidental magic, which was pathetic at best.

Adrian did know various species of merfolk, which also was pathetic. His father mused on sending Adrian out on a peace relation with various creature species in the future, although the prospect of meeting and trying to intimidate a vampire seemed horrifying.

If that's what his future was, then Adrian was going to try his best at that. He jumped into learning as much as he could from the various books he had received from Bellatrix a while back, reading and struggling to memorize all of the information he could on werewolves, vampires, giants, and any creature he likely would encounter.

The more Adrian read about Dementors and other wraith-like creatures, the more he felt something stirring deep within him.

His father had explicitly told him before that he shouldn't concern himself with Dementors. He assumed that it was because there were plenty of people locked within the depths of Azkaban, it was unrealistic for Adrian to focus his attention on something that was impossible to penetrate.

Adrian also suspected that his father didn't want him to think of Bellatrix. He had heard stories that those who went to Azkaban, no matter how long, never came back the same. All because of Dementors.

He wanted to know more, how did these shadowy beings live? How did they function? How were they so mysterious but imbued with such power?

He wanted to know everything.

(And from there he was gone.)

....

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