Author's Note: Here we go, the first part of the ten thousand document I made (and am still editing now that I am alive). Lots of love to all here with me today! I am sorry for the wait, I was unable to acces my account, but I will not bore anyone with what will seem like mere excuses. So continue on lovelies for it is finally here!

And of course, Fröhliche Weihnachten!

Last Chapter...

{Harry's viewpoint}

His patience was not nearly as strong as he had thought, and he carefully warded his bed and crawled behind the curtains once noticing a fair lack of James and Sirius. With a quick fourish his whipped up the thick files encased in his robes. Warily he checked for any spells, curses, warding, or hexes on the pages but none were found. He eagerly flipped over the first page to find-

Nothing. White, blank paper.

He flipped through the entirety of the pages to find them in the same condition. He sighed in a most put upon way, and drummed his fingers on the stack of apparently blank but not negatively charmed papers.

Why would Macnair want blank papers? And if this was a mission commissioned by the Dark Lord, why had Riddle been there and even questioned after the papers? And if Macnair was doing this for reasons that involved Hadrian Riddle and not telling Tom Riddle, then what was the sacred importance of these papers that he would risk himself so? And how did Macnair know of him if Tom Riddle didn't even know he had a son? What was Harry missing?

He was seriously becoming invested in the backstory created for Hadrian Riddle.

A sudden breeze drifted through the curtains and a couple of the papers drifted away. Harry snatched them from the air, but on the cover page he cut his thumb on the sharp, crisp edge of paper. Hissing in frustration he placed the paper back on top of the pile before pulling out his wand to be rid of the red stain. Before he did, something caught his eye. An elegant script with looping letters and the beauty of sophistication faded into being.

Mother Knows Best

Chapter 15

Meddling Affairs

Harry had an ill and foreboding feeling as he watched the words come into being, which wasn't even based on what they said. It was instead the reminder it served him of Tom Riddle's diary that gave him a prickly ice-cold chill down his back. As he watched, more words followed.

All information accounted for:

Yes

Blood sample a correct verification:

Yes

Unlocking:

Yes

Unlocking Now

Suddenly a mess of scrawl filled the creamy paper, then he flipped through the rest to see the same happening. It was a tiny, cramped, and cursive muddle to Harry, so he decided to start reading from the beginning...

"I expect that all the proper paperwork is accordingly there for your browsing enjoyment," the tall man assured with a gratuitous smile. Mrs. Cole was surely getting along in age, but she was still flustered with this young man- barely thirty three at the eldest. He was just so deliciously handsome, with that silky looking hair...

"Why thank you, Mr. Black. I am definite that there will be no complications in this process. We shall have him called here for a while during school holidays, and you can meet him. Then also perhaps you will go through with such a big life step as adopting a young man. I congratulate you!" In her excitement to see this man again, she forgot entirely to warn him of the freakish occurences when it came to Hadrian Riddle, letting Mr. Black leave without the forewarning.

Mr. Orion Black personally had no idea what his Lord was planning when it came to the adoption of some random more-than-likely mudblood. But he obeyed his orders, regardless of confusion. That was what he always did, for he knew his Lord's temper was not to be underestimated and his Lord's judgement could generally be trusted.

27. April. 1960

The struggle grows stronger by the day.

My patient's regular absorbance of magical aura is not nearly high enough to support two lives. The child will certainly not make it into the final trimester. Perhaps not even the second. The mother's consumption of food has drastically decreased and yet her child grows stronger, an odd phenomenon. But the child will both pass away with such clear deterioration of the mother's health surely. It only will take time to see.

Harry spun through the short, unidentifying entries on this doctor's patient's health, before coming to a stop when the painfully neat writing became sharp and scrawling.

13. August. 1960

The child is strong, stronger than his mother for many weeks now. He swells in magical aura and health on seemingly nothing as his mother consumes little to no food and barely can move from exhaustion. And I have found the answer to this 'phenomenon' as I so foolishly called it. Her unwillingness to eat and lack of movement is a cause of the creature growing inside her. It is taking her magic. and once this is drained, the child will go for the weak crumbs of her life force to help itself survive. It is an ancient form of wizarding child, created when a mother is intended to be replaced and there is no use for her but her child. I have now discovered they can be replicated accidentally it seems. The devoratrix will take her life, I am now sure of it. Can I stop this? Will she allow me to do so?

If her spouse were to discover what part I have played in concealing her, then practically ensuring her death, I will face that very fate.

A dilemma.

14. August. 1960

She refused to be rid of the child, claiming its innocence of all things. So that may be, but it will still kill her in the end.

She also remained staunchly against the idea of even writing a letter to alert her spouse of the child or her survival of the attack. She says he will then find us someway and it is best to avoid all contact, and I truly do not doubt this.

Remarkable man.

But it boggles me that she does all this hiding and running to save a child who will kill her. I would most likely attempt to contact her spouse to alert him of his wife's well being and the devoratrix, however I am aware I will be the one penalized for the current situation.

There was a noticeable lack of writing for nearly two months. The next divulgance of information laid in November.

24. November. 1960

My patient is nearly comatose for most of her time. The devoratrix is ridiculously strong. I stay adamant in my view that she will not survive. It would take a miracle. Her spouse grows more agitated in his actions by the day. The lack of her seems to be taking its toll, and his hope of her survival dwindling. I regret nothing more than hiding her here with me, but what is done is done. And there is nothing I can do now to fix any of it.

10. December. 1960

The child will be born within the next couple of weeks. Its health is prime and the Missus is truly out of it for the majority of the day.

Yet again, there was a lack of entries. Instead pages upon pages of potion mumbo-jumbo and scrawled notes lead up to the last entry.

31. December. 1960

It is a true miracle sent by Magick herself I am certain! The child has arrived, and she has survived the birth! While still weak she should slowly recover her health

There was a long line of ink trailing from the last 'h' as if someone has suddenly yanked their hand back and the ink was jaggedly drawn against the parchment. Harry could tell without a doubt that hadn't been the intended end of the entry.

Harry was not dull in the head, regardless of what Draco Malfoy thought. He could draw himself the conclusion that the child referred to was none other than him. He felt a warm gladness that he hadn't killed his mother upon birth, before shaking it off.

The wasn't really him. It was just a back story for this boy he created.

"Harry, you in here? We wanna check out the grounds, you coming with mate?" Sirius' young voice permeated the wards around the bed. Hadrian popped his head out of the curtains and grinned.

"Sure thing," he said and slid out of his fortress. The files became meticulously stacked with the casual flick of his finger behind his back. "I could use some fresh air."

"Alright, let's go," James announced from beyond the dorm door, muffled by three inches of wood. Sirius bounded to the door and Hadrian followed in a calmer fashion. Yet the enthusiasm was contagious and he felt lighter after the load placed on his shoulders through reading about his birth.

He was a monster, that put his birth mother through excruciating pain and suffering to gain power himself. He nearly killed his own mother, and now it was unapparent what had even happened to her. From the sparse information in the Healer's entries, his father either knew nothing of him or wanted nothing to do with him. Most likely both.

It hurt, if he was honest.

Yet again, he was the freakshow.

"Madam, please have a seat," intoned Mr. Dumbledore. Half moon glasses glinted with the reflection of the fireplace as the newest Defense professor sat herself down. She looked around the office, and made no expression in reaction to the variety of splendid magical trinkets. Her gaze returned to the Headmaster once he began to speak. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We are happy to have you here- I especially as you have finally given into my pleas. Thank you for applying, I am certain you will do a wonderful job with molding the young minds."

"Molding young minds?" She mocked tsked and stuck her nose dramatically into the air. "I am a young mind myself, than you so very much, Albus. If anything they will be teaching me." Sinking back into a more comfortable position for her sky high sniffer, she held a smirk that slowly faded away as she looked at her old foe's sad smile.

When had my utmost enemy become my only solace?

I am truly, now, alone.

But alas, Albus is as well.

But that was his own choice.

"I feel old, dear, not at all like one such as yourself." The Headmaster spoke slowly. There was a very long moment of silence. The one, where everything seems to slow and you feel the beginning of something, or the end, or perhaps some dizzy indigestion.

Neither moved.

The silence stretched on for ages... or seconds.

The Headmaster stared blankly at her forehead. She was unsure whether he expected the response anymore.

But that nagging nostalgia swells inside her until it is a crushing wave that engulfs her small frame.

There is an eternal stupidity to the youth. But there was a wisdom too- that she just could no longer capture as she did.

Too much time has passed, and yet never enough. The words still came too easily, said too often before.

"Alas, you must see, I am twice as tired, " she returned at long last. The once automatic words were still just as sickly sticky comfortablehomehomehome in her mouth as ever.

"Yes, you are, m'dear, " The Headmaster calmly spoke. He then looked away to the blank wall, and she took this as a cue for exit.

The woman stood and then proceeded to swiftly walk to the door. She opened it, and on the way out turned back just once to see her witty nemesis bow his head into his hands.

This is what we are reduced to now, Albus. The same level of broken after all we have done and what has been done upon us.

I have never felt more equal to you, and I had never imagined it would taste so sour.

"I cannot believe it's already getting breezy. It's the third of September! I had hoped we'd have a spot more sun." James threw his arms up and tilted back his head. "A little bit of warm wouldn't hurt anyone, you know!" He spun in place, and quickly lost balance at the loss of his equilibrium. With a small squeak (that if you were to inquire upon you would find never happened) he tumbled down onto his arse.

He groaned and flopped down entirely into the grass, eagle spread. Sirius nudged at him with one foot, and James pitifully slapped at it. In a loud faux conspiratorial whisper, Sirius leaned back to Hadrian saying,

"I think he's gone round the bend. Pity, we didn't even know him that long either." James moaned in despair. Harry leaned forward to Sirius and said, in the same tone,

"Well it may be that's the problem. P'rhaps he's always been so nutty, we just haven't been round long enough to see it." James sat up onto his elbows.

"How'd you know?" He asked with the most innocent voice and a tilted head.

Before they could say another word, James leapt to his feet and grinned in the most unhinged look that Harry had seen since the lovely Bellatrix Lestrange of his day.

Sarcasm should be noted in this instance.

"Look at him!" James crowed. "Bloody fool that one! Never seen a shower I'd reckon." A bit beyond and to the left of the boys was the Great Lake, and next to it was a large weeping willow. Right outside the curtains of the tree sat a small figure whom, even from their little distance, could clearly be seen to have hair so greasy that it shone.

It shone, and there was not a ray of sun.

Harry easily could assume that the black strands belonged to one dour Potions master, Severus Snape. He felt a twinge of pain, thinking of their similiar upbringing experiences.

It was best to nip this situation in the bud, he knew.

"James," Hadrian started slowly. "You really shouldn't tease him. You don't even know him or anything, and it's really rather unfair." James snorted.

"Unfair? I think it's unfair that we are forced to deal with people like that who can't even be bothered to wash themselves. Anyway, he's a snake." James pointed to the green and silver robes. "My father was right about them sneaky bastards. I mean Heir Malfoy is such a prat! I think you should've spelled him to the bottom of the lake!" Nip it in the bud, nip it in the bud, Harry's mind chanted to him.

"They can't all be the same, I mean think about Gryffindors. Are we anything like Sayre and his goons?" Sirius' eyes went wide and he barked out a sharp laugh.

"No- that nuthead- no."

"Exactly," Harry continued with a shrug. "So how do we know he'll be like Malfoy?"

"Yeah well, I'm not going to have to talk with him or anything, so I guess it's not that big of a deal." James kicked idly at the ground, his interest in the subject having evaporated entirely. "Let's check out the Forest." He started walking, gaining speed as his excitement rose at the prospect. Sirius was right behind him, and Harry lingered and called out,

"It's real dangerous you know!" Yet, he still followed. If anything, Harry thought, I can protect in dire situations. At least we have that. At the edge of the trees the boys stopped.

"We won't go far, " Sirius said. "Just a bit, y'know." James nodded sagely.

"Just to look around a bit." Harry smiled lopsidely.

"It's alright I guess. As long as we aren't caught." James shot a look to the bent figure of Snape, but the boy was still mezmerised by the textbook in his hands.

A man of impressive stature gazed into the dark woods. His blonde hair was windswept to the side in a stylish manner, and his dark, rich blue robes elegant and clearly tailored by those of the finest degree.

Behind him stood a silence. A thousand men stood in a uniform shape, black hoods covering half of their faces. The darkness of the material seemed almost alive, like night itself and if you got too close the fabric would suck you into it.

The man stepped forward once, as if crossing some imaginary line. Then he took another step, then another, then another.

Now the rows upon rows of the shimmering night cloaks followed, swiftly and in silence.

Their leader reached one hand up, to gently finger the thin silver chain around his throat that on the end carried the symbols of all he wanted for.

A wand.

A stone.

A cloak.