Shadows Of Another Time - Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter 2: First Encounters

Morning arrived with a gentle rap at Hadrian's door. He was already awake and dressed, having risen before dawn as was his habit after years of living with the constant threat of attack. His wand was in his hand before his conscious mind had fully registered the sound.

"Message for Mr. Peverell," called a voice from the hallway.

Confirming through a discreet detection spell that there was indeed just one person outside—likely one of Rosmerta's staff—Hadrian opened the door and accepted the sealed parchment being offered.

"Thank you," he said, pressing a Sickle into the young witch's hand.

Once alone again, Hadrian broke the Hogwarts seal on the letter. As expected, it was from Dumbledore, confirming their arrangement for Hadrian to meet Harry that afternoon at two o'clock in the Headmaster's office. The letter also included an "invitation to tour the grounds" that would allow him to pass through the castle gates.

With several hours to spare before the meeting, Hadrian decided to make productive use of his time. First, he visited Gringotts in Diagon Alley to establish his financial presence in Britain. The goblins were, as always, concerned only with verification of identity and the authenticity of his gold. The documents Hermione had prepared passed their magical verification processes without issue, and within an hour, Hadrian had a new vault containing a modest but respectable sum transferred from his "American holdings."

More importantly, he had officially registered his presence in magical Britain. News of a previously unknown Peverell would spread quickly through certain circles, but that was part of the plan. Better to establish his presence openly than to be discovered lurking in the shadows.

His next stop was a discreet visit to Knockturn Alley, where he acquired several items useful for securing his privacy—detection sensors, ward anchors, and a few other specialized magical devices that would have raised eyebrows in more reputable establishments. He also purchased a selection of books on recent British wizarding history, ostensibly to "catch up" on local events after his years abroad.

By noon, Hadrian was back in Hogsmeade, having lunch at the Three Broomsticks while reviewing his plans for the afternoon meeting. This would be delicate. He needed to make an impression on his younger self without seeming too eager or revealing too much too soon. The goal was to establish a connection that could be built upon gradually over the coming months.

As two o'clock approached, Hadrian made his way up to Hogwarts, the invitation allowing him smooth passage through the gates. The grounds were busy with students enjoying the last few days of term, many of them lounging by the lake or wandering in small groups across the lawns. Hadrian kept his pace measured and his expression pleasant but neutral as he walked toward the castle, aware of the curious glances directed his way.

The gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office stepped aside as Hadrian approached—Dumbledore had obviously instructed it to expect him. At the top of the spiral staircase, he paused, taking a moment to center himself and reinforce his Occlumency shields before knocking on the heavy wooden door.

"Enter," called Dumbledore's voice from within.

Hadrian pushed open the door to find Dumbledore seated behind his desk as before, but this time he was not alone. Standing awkwardly by one of the windows was Harry Potter, thirteen years old, skinny and tousle-haired, with the familiar lightning bolt scar visible through his fringe. The boy turned as Hadrian entered, green eyes—so like his own original color—widening with curiosity behind round glasses.

For a moment, Hadrian felt a wave of emotion so powerful it threatened to overwhelm his carefully maintained composure. There he was—his younger self, unmarked by the decades of war and loss that had shaped Hadrian's life. So young, so vulnerable, and yet already showing the stubborn determination that would define him.

"Ah, Mr. Peverell, right on time," Dumbledore said, rising from his chair. "Allow me to introduce Harry Potter. Harry, this is Hadrian Peverell, the gentleman I mentioned to you this morning."

Hadrian stepped forward, extending his hand with a warm smile that he didn't have to fake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry. I've heard a great deal about you."

Harry hesitated only briefly before shaking the offered hand. "Er, nice to meet you too, sir. Professor Dumbledore said you're... related to me somehow?"

"Distantly, yes," Hadrian confirmed, releasing Harry's hand and taking the seat Dumbledore indicated. "The Peverell family is an old wizarding line that both of our families descend from. My branch moved to America in the 1800s, but we're connected through your father's side."

Harry's expression brightened with interest. "So we're family? Like, actual family?"

The hope in the boy's voice struck Hadrian like a physical blow. He remembered all too well how desperately he had once longed for any connection to the wizarding world beyond the Dursleys, how he had clutched at every scrap of information about his parents and their world.

"Yes, though the connection is several generations back," Hadrian replied gently. "I believe the technical term would be 'second cousin, twice removed,' or something similarly convoluted. Wizarding genealogy can be quite complex."

"Mr. Peverell has only recently returned to Britain following the unfortunate passing of his parents," Dumbledore explained to Harry, his tone sympathetic but his eyes still watchful as they moved between Harry and Hadrian.

"I'm sorry about your parents," Harry said with genuine empathy that made Hadrian's chest tighten. The boy already understood loss in a way most children his age didn't.

"Thank you," Hadrian replied simply. "It's been difficult, but I'm managing. One of the reasons I decided to return to Britain was to connect with what family I have left, however distant. When I learned about you and your situation, I thought perhaps you might appreciate knowing you have more magical relatives than you realized."

Harry nodded eagerly. "Definitely! I don't know much about my family at all. The Dursleys never talk about my parents, and I only found out I was a wizard when I got my Hogwarts letter."

Dumbledore cleared his throat gently. "Harry, perhaps you could tell Mr. Peverell a bit about your time at Hogwarts so far?"

Recognizing Dumbledore's attempt to steer the conversation away from the Dursleys, Hadrian smoothly picked up the thread. "Yes, I'd love to hear about that. Hogwarts has such a storied history. I attended Ilvermorny myself, though much of my education was private due to my family's... somewhat reclusive nature."

Harry launched into an edited version of his Hogwarts experiences, carefully omitting the more dangerous adventures that Hadrian knew had occurred. It was fascinating to hear his younger self describe events that, for Hadrian, had occurred decades ago—the excitement of discovering magic, making friends with Ron and Hermione, joining the Quidditch team.

"I hear you're quite the flyer," Hadrian commented when Harry mentioned Quidditch. "Your father was talented on a broom as well, from what I understand."

"You knew my dad?" Harry asked eagerly.

"No, unfortunately," Hadrian replied truthfully. "I never had the opportunity to meet James or Lily. But wizarding achievements tend to be remembered, especially in family histories. The Potters have produced several notable Quidditch players over the generations."

As they continued to talk, Hadrian carefully observed his younger self, noting the differences and similarities between the boy before him and his own memories. This Harry was still innocent in many ways, despite the hardships he had already faced. The wariness in his eyes was that of a child who had learned not to trust adults too easily, not the battle-hardened suspicion that Hadrian had developed over years of betrayal and loss.

Dumbledore watched their interaction with keen interest, occasionally interjecting a comment or question but mostly allowing the conversation to flow naturally. Hadrian knew the Headmaster was analyzing every word, every reaction, looking for any sign that Hadrian might pose a threat to his carefully laid plans for Harry.

After about forty-five minutes, Dumbledore gently brought the meeting to a close. "I'm afraid Harry has an end-of-term Transfiguration exam to prepare for," he said, rising from his chair. "Perhaps you could walk with us as far as the Great Hall, Mr. Peverell? I believe Professor McGonagall is holding a review session there shortly."

"Of course," Hadrian agreed, standing. "I wouldn't want to interfere with your studies, Harry."

As they walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, Harry asked, "Will I see you again before I go back to the Dursleys?"

The question held a note of hope that Hadrian remembered all too well—the desperate desire for any excuse to delay returning to Privet Drive. It took considerable self-control not to immediately offer an alternative to the Dursleys' home, but Hadrian knew that moving too quickly would only provoke resistance from Dumbledore.

"I'm afraid my schedule may not permit it before term ends," Hadrian replied carefully, aware of Dumbledore walking beside them. "But I'd be happy to correspond by owl over the summer, if that's acceptable to your guardian." He glanced at Dumbledore with this last statement, making it clear he was seeking permission.

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "I see no harm in that, provided the usual precautions are observed. Harry's situation requires certain... security measures."

"Of course," Hadrian agreed. "I would expect nothing less."

They reached the entrance to the Great Hall, where students were already gathering for the review session. Harry hesitated, clearly reluctant to end the meeting.

"It was really great to meet you, Mr. Peverell," he said finally.

"Please, call me Hadrian," he replied with a warm smile. "And I'm very glad to have met you too, Harry. I'll send an owl in a few days, once you're settled at home."

Harry nodded, his expression brightening slightly at the promise of correspondence to break the monotony of summer with the Dursleys. "I'd like that. Thank you."

After Harry had joined his classmates in the Great Hall, Dumbledore turned to Hadrian. "I trust you found the meeting satisfactory, Mr. Peverell?"

"Very much so," Hadrian replied honestly. "Harry seems like a remarkable young man. You and the Hogwarts staff have done well by him."

"We have tried," Dumbledore said, a hint of weariness in his voice that Hadrian knew masked deeper concerns. "Harry has faced more challenges in his young life than many wizards do in a lifetime."

"Yes, I gathered as much, even from our brief conversation," Hadrian said carefully. "He carries a heavy burden for one so young."

Dumbledore's eyes sharpened. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Peverell?"

Hadrian kept his expression neutral. "Simply that being the Boy Who Lived must come with tremendous expectations and scrutiny. Add to that the loss of his parents and his... unconventional upbringing, and it's clear he's had to develop resilience beyond his years."

Whether Dumbledore was satisfied with this explanation was difficult to tell, but he merely inclined his head slightly. "Indeed. Now, I must return to my duties, but I trust you can find your way back to the gates?"

"Of course," Hadrian replied. "Thank you again for arranging the meeting, Headmaster. I look forward to getting to know my young relative better in the coming months."

As Hadrian made his way back through the castle and across the grounds, he reflected on the encounter. It had gone well—better than he had dared hope. The connection had been established, the seeds of a relationship planted. Now he needed to nurture that connection carefully, using it as a foundation for the changes he intended to implement.

The next step would be to secure more permanent accommodations than the Three Broomsticks. He needed a base of operations, somewhere secure where he could work without observation. And he needed to begin making connections beyond Harry—allies who could help him navigate the complex political and social landscape of magical Britain in this critical time period.

But first, he would write to Harry as promised. That correspondence would be the beginning of a subtle campaign to prepare the boy for what was to come—to strengthen him without breaking him, to guide him without controlling him. It was a delicate balance, one that Dumbledore, for all his wisdom, had failed to achieve in Hadrian's timeline.

"Not this time," Hadrian murmured to himself as he passed through the Hogwarts gates. "This time, things will be different."

* * *

Two days later, Harry Potter sat in his small bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive, staring glumly out the window. He had been back with the Dursleys for less than twenty-four hours, and already the summer stretched before him like an endless desert of boredom, chores, and isolation from the magical world.

Uncle Vernon had been particularly unpleasant this year, still fuming about the incident with Aunt Marge the previous summer. Only the threat of reporting to Harry's "dangerous criminal godfather" had prevented Vernon from locking Harry's school things in the cupboard under the stairs again.

A tapping at the window drew Harry's attention, and he perked up at the sight of an unfamiliar tawny owl holding what appeared to be a letter and a small package. Quickly, he opened the window to admit the bird, which hopped onto his desk with dignified precision, extending its leg so Harry could remove its burden.

The letter was sealed with wax stamped with an unfamiliar crest—a triangular symbol containing a circle bisected by a line. Harry broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, immediately recognizing the elegant handwriting as belonging to the man he had met just before leaving Hogwarts.

> *Dear Harry,*

>

> *I hope this letter finds you well and settling into your summer routine. I promised to write once you were back with your relatives, and I'm a firm believer in keeping one's promises.*

>

> *Our meeting at Hogwarts was unfortunately brief, and I realize we had little opportunity to speak privately. I hope this correspondence might allow us to become better acquainted, as distant family should be.*

>

> *I've enclosed a small gift that I thought might interest you. It's a journal that once belonged to your grandfather, Fleamont Potter. It primarily contains his notes on potion-making (he was quite renowned for his skill in that area, having invented Sleekeazy's Hair Potion), but there are also some personal anecdotes about your father as a child. I came across it in an antiquarian bookshop in America some years ago and purchased it, thinking it might find its way back to the Potter family someday. It seems that day has come.*

>

> *If you have any questions about your family history or simply wish to correspond, please feel free to write. The owl that delivered this letter, Archimedes, will wait for a reply if you have one ready, or will return in three days' time if you need more time to compose your thoughts.*

>

> *I should mention that I've taken a cottage near Hogsmeade for the summer, as I find I prefer the Scottish countryside to London's bustle. The address is enclosed should you need to reach me.*

>

> *Looking forward to your reply,*

>

> *Hadrian Peverell*

Harry stared at the letter in amazement, then turned his attention to the package. Carefully unwrapping it, he found a leather-bound journal, its pages yellowed with age. Opening it reverently, he saw neat handwriting covering the pages, interspersed with diagrams of potion ingredients and brewing apparatuses.

Flipping through, he found exactly what Hadrian had described—not just potion notes, but occasional personal entries. His heart leapt when he saw his father's name mentioned: "James managed to turn the cat purple today with his first display of accidental magic. Euphemia is pretending to be upset, but I caught her smiling when she thought no one was looking. He's going to be powerful—bursting with magic at only three years old!"

Harry read the entry over and over, drinking in this tiny glimpse of his father as a child, this connection to grandparents he had never known. It was more personal information about his family than he had ever received before, and it had come from a man who was virtually a stranger.

Without hesitation, Harry pulled out parchment and a quill to compose a reply. The summer suddenly seemed a little brighter with the prospect of correspondence with his newfound relative. If Hadrian had more stories, more connections to the Potter family, Harry was eager to hear them all.

As he wrote, expressing his gratitude for the journal and asking dozens of questions about his family, Harry was unaware of the significance of the moment. He couldn't know that this letter was the first step on a path that would dramatically alter his destiny—and the fate of the wizarding world.

In his cottage near Hogsmeade, protected by layers of wards and a newly cast Fidelius Charm with himself as Secret-Keeper, Hadrian Peverell smiled as he felt the subtle magical signature that indicated Harry had received his letter. The first piece had been moved on the board. Now the real work could begin.