The Room of Requirement shimmered into existence once more — silver mist swirling into walls, pillars, and an open expanse that looked like a cathedral carved out of moonlight.
For months, Adrian had used this place as his crucible- testing, refining, perfecting. Yet tonight, his magic carried a different resonance. The room itself felt aware of it - as though it knew something profound was about to be born within its walls.
He stood at the center, wand in hand, eyes half-closed, the faint blue glow of the floating candles reflecting off the smooth stone floor.
"Expecto Patronum," he whispered.
Silver mist burst from the tip of his wand — fragile, quivering. It flickered, then dissolved like smoke.
Failure. Again.
Adrian exhaled slowly. The Patronus Charm was unlike any other spell he had mastered. It defied the normal logic — it wasn't built from precision or calculation, but from feeling.
He had studied it meticulously — countless incantations, Arithmantic models, even obscure texts by 18th-century scholars who claimed to have quantified "positive magical resonance." But none of them could replicate the spell's essence.
It was driven by something that didn't belong to books.
Happiness.
Adrian frowned slightly. He wasn't incapable of feeling — quite the opposite. He felt deeply, sometimes painfully so. But emotion, in his mind, was something to channel, not to rely on.
He closed his eyes and tried again.
"Expecto Patronum."
Silver again. This time, it flared brighter — enough to cast his shadow on the wall. It held form for half a second before disintegrating into sparks.
He lowered his wand, breathing evenly.
"The charm resists pure intellect," he murmured to himself. "It requires emotional alignment — not forced positivity, but genuine connection."
He sat cross-legged in the center of the room. His wand rested on his knee, his mind empty.
"What makes light?" he whispered to the silence. "It isn't the absence of darkness — it's the will to defy it."
He thought of his past. The orphanage. The nights of hunger, loneliness, and the sound of rain leaking through cracked roofs. The faces of children who came and went, the names he couldn't remember anymore.
And yet — in those memories — there was warmth.
A nurse hums softly by candlelight. A stray cat curled up beside his bed. A moment of laughter over a broken toy.
Small things, fragile but real — lights that had kept him from breaking.
But, no, they were not enough.
He looked deeper, into himself, eyes growing sharper. His grip on the wand tightened. His voice was calm, deliberate, almost reverent.
"Expecto Patronum."
The silver mist erupted — but this time, it didn't falter.
It grew.
The creature screamed soundlessly as the radiance condensed into form — a serpent, vast and ethereal, coiling protectively around the room before lunging forward. Its hiss echoed through the chamber, a sound that was both beautiful and haunting.
" The most happiness I falt is… magic itself," Adrian remembered the feeling of receiving his letter, he remembered the excitement he felt when he first visited Diogon Ally, he remembered the pure joy of knowing he was a wizard, the first time of casting a spell…
Adrian smiled faintly. "There you are."
As he watched it circle once before landing on his outstretched arm — light but solid, pure magic incarnate.
The serpent's silver eyes met his — and something passed between them.
It wasn't obedience. It was a connection.
He realized then what made the Patronus so unique — it was a reflection, not just of joy, but of truth. The truest part of oneself, made manifest.
But Adrian's curiosity didn't end there. The more he used the charm, the more he noticed subtle details — threads of consciousness binding Patronus and master.
It wasn't just light; it was an extension of the mind.
So he began experimenting.
Through Occlumency and Legilimency theory, he hypothesized that the Patronus acted as a conduit — a magical projection of one's consciousness, capable of existing independent of the body. If that was the case, then perhaps — under the right structure — one could amplify that connection.
The first trials were crude — sensory feedback charms layered over the Patronus incantation. Most failed, burning out after seconds. But Adrian persisted.
He refined the spell's structure, embedding rune sequences into the wand motion - combinations drawn from ancient binding rituals. He inverted the focus- instead of pushing energy outward, he directed part of his awareness through the Patronus itself.
When he tried again, the serpent emerged brighter than ever, its eyes now glowing like twin lanterns.
He whispered a new phrase — his own creation:
"Visum Patronum."
The serpent's light flared.
And suddenly, Adrian saw.
Not from where he stood, but from above. From the serpent's eyes. He could see himself, small and still, a figure surrounded by silvery light. He could feel the air rushing over invisible wings, the cold stone beneath its talons, the quiet hum of magic linking them.
He was inside his Patronus!
His pulse quickened, not from fear — from exhilaration.
He moved the serpent across the room — it obeyed instantly. Every motion, every turn, every flick of its tail was transmitted directly to his mind.
Then, with a thought, he sent it soaring through the wall — the enchantments of the Room shifting to allow passage. The connection held strong. Through the serpent's eyes, he saw the corridor outside, the dim torchlight, the moving shadows of students passing below.
He could see without being there.
Adrian slowly opened his eyes, the connection severing. The serpent dissolved into mist.
He exhaled deeply.
He had done it.
He had extended the Patronus beyond emotion - into perception.
Not just a guardian - a messenger. A scout. A spell that merged intellect, will, mind, and soul.
He spent weeks refining it. He discovered that his Patronus could travel vast distances before the link weakened, and that he could maintain the connection for several minutes before mental fatigue set in.
He learned to use it for reconnaissance — watching the castle, studying magical fields, even observing duels unseen.
/////
The year's calm was shattered when Hermione Granger was found petrified in the library corridor. Adrian had heard the whispers long before the official announcement. Rumors spread fast — whispers of a monster, of the Heir of Slytherin, of danger returning to Hogwarts.
He didn't care for gossip. But this time, he knew, it was on. 'So it was time to implement my plan.'
That night, as Adrian walked through a deserted hallway near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he saw two figures standing outside — tense, whispering, nervous.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
They both turned as his footsteps echoed.
"Atlas," Ron said sharply, his hand inching toward his wand.
Adrian stopped a few feet away, his expression calm. "Relax. If I wanted to hex you, Weasley, you wouldn't see it coming."
Ron glared, but Harry raised a hand slightly. "It's fine, Ron."
Adrian's gaze moved to Harry. "You're going down there," he said simply.
Harry blinked. "How did you—?"
"I'm not blind," Adrian interrupted, tone mild. "You've been chasing clues since the attacks began. And you've found something. I assume it leads here." He gestured toward the door.
Harry hesitated, studying him carefully. There was no mockery in Adrian's tone — only quiet certainty.
"Why do you care?" Ron asked coldly. "I thought Slytherins didn't get involved unless there's something in it for them."
Adrian's lips curved slightly. "I don't speak for them." His voice lowered. "I want to see what's really down there. And if the creature is what I think it is — I'm not missing the chance to study it."
Harry's brow furrowed. "You think it's the basilisk."
Adrian grinned — 'No shit, Sherlock'. "So you've figured it out, too."
The three stood in uneasy silence. The only sound was the dripping of water from the pipes.
Harry spoke again, quieter this time. "Why should we trust you?"
Adrian met his gaze steadily. "Because when everyone thought you were the Heir, Potter — I didn't."
Harry froze.
"I don't follow the crowd," Adrian continued. "You were judged without proof – I don't do that. So if you're going down there, let me come. You'll need more than courage to survive what's waiting."
For a long moment, Harry said nothing. Then, slowly, he nodded. "All right."
Ron looked incredulous. "Harry—!"
Harry didn't look away from Adrian. "We could use the help."
Adrian inclined his head slightly. "Wise choice."
As they turned toward the entrance, Lockhart's voice echoed faintly down the corridor, pompous and oblivious as ever. "Ah, boys! What an unexpected pleasure—"
Adrian sighed. 'Of course, the clown is here too.'
\\\
The door to the Chamber of Secrets yawned before them, cold stone dripping with centuries of forgotten magic. Lockhart stepped forward, chest puffed, hand raised with his usual misplaced confidence.
"Now, now, boys, allow me to—" Before he could finish, Ron's hand twitched. Adrian saw it but did not stop him.
The damaged wand he'd picked up sparked, reacting unpredictably to Lockhart's attempted memory charm. A jet of erratic green light shot from the wand. Lockhart screamed as the spell ricocheted, striking him squarely in the chest. He staggered, then collapsed onto the damp floor, fumbling helplessly.
Adrian's voice was calm but commanding. "Weasley. Take him and wait outside. Do not come back until we call."
Ron nodded, wide-eyed, and dragged the flailing Lockhart toward the corridor. The echoes of Lockhart's indignation faded as the dungeon grew silent around them.
Adrian turned back to Harry. "Stay close. Stay behind me."
Harry swallowed, nodding grimly. Together, they approached the immense stone door, its serpent carvings seeming to glimmer under the faint torchlight. Harry's lips moved in the sibilant hiss of Parseltongue. The door groaned and twisted, opening into the vast, shadowed Chamber.
Inside, the air was thick with ancient power. The colossal basilisk lay coiled in the shadows, yet it was not the immediate threat that caught their eyes. At the far end, Tom Riddle stood over Ginny Weasley, her body limp and pale, eyes wide in silent terror.
"Welcome, Harry Potter," Riddle said smoothly, his voice echoing against the vaulted walls. "You see, I am the true Heir of Slytherin — the young Lord Voldemort. And here is the tool of my plans." He went on, explaining his grad plan; how it began; how it will end, but Adrian turned a deaf ear to him; his Patronus hovered high enough to see everything clearly.
Harry froze, his wand trembling. Adrian's calm, analytical gaze swept the room. He cataloged every threat, every opening, every magical potential. Then it happened without warning, with a flick of his hand, Riddle sent Harry sprawling backward with a spell, snatching his wand mid-air.
The dark, cold smile on Riddle's face was enough to chill most minds. He looked directly at Adrian. "And why are you here, Atlas? Why align yourself with this boy?"
Adrian's lips curved in amusement, his voice dripping mockery. "Curiosity, mostly. And you, Riddle, should know better than to underestimate anyone — especially a Slytherin."
Riddle's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering. He raised his wand, magic crackling in the air — and then, with a voice sharp as a blade, the duel began.
Spells collided with precision, Riddle testing, probing, striking with all the dark cunning of a young Voldemort. Adrian moved like water, weaving Transfiguration, Charms, and defensive spells in a seamless rhythm. He avoided Dark Magic — not out of fear, he did not want Harry to see him use it, unless he did not have a choice.
Riddle's frustration grew. Finally, with a hiss of command, the great stone door shifted — and the basilisk stirred, massive eyes opening in predatory awareness. Its fangs dripped venom. The creature slithered forward, obeying its master's command.
Riddle turned back to Adrian, wand aloft. "Avada—"
'Transfiguration? No, I won't make it… No, there is another option…' Million thoughts flaw in his mind, but Adrian paid them no mind; his Mind-shield worked tirelessly. Focusing on it, he channeled all his emotions at once.
Before the words could complete, Adrian reacted with lethal precision. He unleashed a Killing Curse of his own, forcing Riddle back. The spells collided mid-air, green jets intertwining, crackling with violent energy, that cracked the floor under them. Adrian was pushed back. 'He is possibly an Auror level, worthy of being the future dark-lord,' he thought to himself, his expression was still indifferent.
Riddle laughed coldly. "What gives the killing-curse power, boy? It is will… it is intent to kill! You cannot match mine!!!"
Adrian's eyes glinted. "We shall see."
The duel pressed on. For a moment, Riddle forced Adrian back, but then Adrian began to match him. Second passed, and Adrian's green light began to push Tom's.
Tom Riddele was shocked, " How are you doing it?!" He shouted.
Adrin seized the flicker of hesitation, exploiting it with a spell cast wandlessly — a precise projection of magical energy that shoved Riddle off balance. The Killing Curses broke apart in a cascade of telekinetic shockwaves.
Adrian's focus shifted. Water from the Chamber's subterranean fountains swirled at his command, forming a containment ring around the basilisk. The great serpent hissed, trying to strike, but Adrian's barrier held firm. Harry, stumbling back, stared in awe at the display of control.
'Focus,' Adrian murmured. ' You can do it.'
"KURA VOLTA!" He shouted.
A surge of lightning through the water — the spell borrowed a whisper of Dark Magic, but it was controlled, precise. A bolt arced from the ring, striking the basilisk full-on. Its massive body convulsed, paralyzed by the shock.
Without hesitation, Adrian's hand moved in a blur of motion. Through Transfiguration, he shaped a silver-bladed sword, radiant with magical lightning. With a single, calculated thrust, he drove it into the basilisk's forehead. The great beast let out a final, echoing hiss before collapsing. Silence returned.
Adrian exhaled, calm and deliberate, eyes scanning the room. Harry could only stare, speechless, at the display of mastery, power fused with intellect, and a terrifying precision.
Riddle, crouched and recovering, stared at him, realization dawning. "You…Who are you?"
Adrian's smirk was subtle. "You should have studied your opponents as well as your magic, Riddle."
The Chamber lay in uneasy stillness. Ginny stirred slightly, Adrian's Patronus hovering silently, silver and vigilant, eyes shining with protective light. The second year had not only survived — he had dominated, controlled, and neutralized threats that would have undone most adults.
The air in the Chamber was thick — damp and ancient, breathing with the weight of a thousand years. The massive stone serpents loomed on either side, their eyes like shards of frozen emeralds.
Harry stood a few paces behind Adrian. Adrian's wand lowered, chest rising and falling slowly. The basilisk lay motionless now — its enormous body coiled in death, the air still reeking of venom and blood.
He had been certain the fight was done.
He was wrong.
A shadow began to reform in the flickering air — the outline of a boy, pale and elegant, eyes sharp as obsidian. Tom Riddle stepped forward, his expression eerily calm.
"You," Riddle said softly, his voice carrying a chill that clung to every surface. "You saw through me. A second-year…" He tilted his head, smiling thinly. "Impressive. Insufferable. Dangerous."
Adrian said nothing. His wand hand trembled slightly — fatigue gnawing at his muscles. The duel with the basilisk and Riddle had drained him more than he cared to admit.
Riddle's gaze sharpened. "Tell me, Atlas — did you enjoy it? The tril? The killing?"
Adrian's lips curved faintly. "Not as much as you think."
Riddle's smirk darkened. "Liar."
He flicked his wrist.
A surge of crimson light slammed into Adrian's shield - too sudden. The barrier cracked like glass. Adrian staggered backward, his wand slipping from his fingers. The impact threw him against the stone floor, his breath leaving him in a harsh gasp.
The world spun. His vision blurred.
Riddle approached slowly, savoring each step. "Now you pay…"
Harry moved instinctively, stepping between them. "Leave him alone!"
Riddle's laugh echoed through the chamber, smooth and cruel. "Ah, the famous Harry Potter. Always so eager to play the hero." He raised his hand — the air itself rippled. A burst of force sent Harry crashing into one of the serpent statues. He groaned, clutching his side.
Adrian blinked hard, fighting the darkness closing in around the edges of his vision. The world pulsed between clarity and haze. His fingers twitched — the wand lay meters away, gleaming faintly.
Riddle turned toward Harry, his voice dripping venom. "Do you even know what you are, Potter? You're a fragment of someone else's story — my story!"
Adrian lifted his gaze. His eyes met Harry's across the chamber.
For a moment, time froze.
He didn't speak — he couldn't. But his meaning was clear.
Distract him.
Harry hesitated only a heartbeat before straightening. "If it's your story, Riddle," he said through clenched teeth, "then I'll make sure it ends here."
Riddle turned, sneering. "You—"
The distraction was enough.
Adrian's hand rose — empty, trembling. His mind focused, a cold spear of will cutting through the fog. Wandless magic — direct control.
He reached out through the air, through matter itself, feeling the shards of reality.
The broken remains of the basilisk glinted in the corner of his eye.
One fang. Long. Curved. Dripping with poison and possibility.
It shuddered, lifted, turned — guided by nothing but thought.
Riddle's eyes widened. "What—?"
The fang flew — a blur of motion. It buried itself in the diary's cover with a wet, tearing sound.
The scream that followed was not human.
The chamber shook, serpentine carvings shivering as if alive. The diary convulsed in midair, spewing ink like black blood.
Riddle's form flickered — his face twisting in disbelief. "You— you don't—!"
Adrian's hand trembled, but he didn't stop. He forced the fang to rise again — then plunge down, again and again. Each strike sent another pulse of energy through the chamber. The walls trembled, the air howled, the torches flared with green fire.
"Adrian!" Harry shouted — half in awe, half in fear.
Riddle staggered, his edges fraying like torn smoke. He tried to pick up his wand that fall — but Harry lunged forward, snatching it from the ground.
"Enough!" Riddle screamed. "You'll tear it—"
The final strike hit home. The diary exploded in a blinding surge of light.
The force threw Adrian backward. He hit the ground hard, the taste of copper in his mouth.
When the light faded, Riddle was gone — dispersed into nothing, like ash on the wind.
Silence.
The air reeked of ink and ozone.
Harry stumbled toward Ginny, kneeling beside her. "She's breathing," he whispered, relief trembling in his voice.
Adrian lay still, his vision fading to gray. The faint pulse of victory echoed somewhere deep inside him, but it felt distant — almost irrelevant.
The last thing he heard was a piercing cry — not human, but melodic, powerful.
A burst of golden light flooded the chamber.
'Is that a phoenix?'
Then darkness took him.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The world returned in fragments — sound first, then light, then pain.
Adrian's head throbbed with a dull, relentless rhythm. The smell of antiseptic potion and clean linen filled his senses. A soft voice murmured nearby — Madam Pomfrey, by the sound of it.
He tried to move. His body protested. His chest felt heavy, as though the weight of the Chamber still pressed upon him.
"Don't even think about sitting up," came Madam Pomfrey's voice, sharp but not unkind. "You've done enough damage to yourself for a dozen second-years."
Adrian's eyes fluttered open. He was in the Hospital Wing. The high arched windows were dark — night again. The candles flickered gently. Across the room, Harry was asleep in a bed, his head tilted to the side, a bandage across his arm. Ginny Weasley slept beside him, pale but alive.
Alive.
The memory hit him all at once — the chamber, the basilisk, Riddle's sneer, the fang, the blinding light.
And the sound of the phoenix.
Adrian's throat tightened. "We… made it," he whispered hoarsely.
"Barely," came another voice.
Dumbledore stood at the foot of his bed, robes soft and silver in the candlelight. His expression was calm — but his eyes, those piercing blue eyes, watched Adrian with something far sharper than gentleness.
"Ah. You're awake," Dumbledore said quietly. "I had rather hoped you would be. There are… matters to discuss."
Adrian swallowed. "The Chamber. It's over."
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Thanks to you — and to Harry. Both of you showed remarkable courage."
Adrian blinked. "I just—"
"—did what needed to be done," Dumbledore finished. "Indeed. You acted with decisiveness… and power that few students could have mustered."
There was a pause — the kind that carried meaning between the words.
Adrian met his gaze. "You're not praising me, are you?"
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Observation. You see patterns even in silence."
A shadow moved near the doorway.
Snape.
He stepped into the light, black robes gliding over the stone floor, eyes cold as night. "You should be thanking him, Headmaster," Snape said silkily. "He's saved your precious school — and given me quite a headache in the process."
Dumbledore didn't turn. "You disapprove, Severus?"
Snape's lip curled. "Disapprove? No. But I do question how a second-year can channel wandless magic with such… force. The chamber is half-collapsed, the basilisk dead, and Tom Riddle's shade obliterated. That isn't talent — that's something else entirely."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "You think I'm dangerous."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "I think you're reckless. And reckless children tend to get others killed."
"Enough," Dumbledore said quietly. The word cut like a blade.
Snape fell silent, but his eyes never left Adrian.
"Professor Snape," Dumbledore continued, "would you be so kind as to check on the others?"
Snape gave a curt bow and swept out, the air behind him rippling faintly as the doors closed.
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
Dumbledore studied Adrian for a long time. "Severus sees only danger. But I see potential. Power is neither good nor evil, Adrian. What matters is who wields it — and why."
Adrian looked down. "It didn't feel like power. It felt like… rage."
"Ah," Dumbledore murmured, almost to himself. "The twin edges of the same blade. Reason and emotion — you walk that line well. But one day, you'll find it cuts both ways."
Adrian turned his head slightly toward Harry's bed. "He tried to help me. Even after I told him to stay back."
Dumbledore followed his gaze. "He has that effect on people." Then, softer: "So do you."
Adrian frowned. "What do you mean?"
The old wizard's expression softened. "You think rationally, but you feel deeply — perhaps too deeply. And you act when others would hesitate. That is both your gift and your burden."
He paused, eyes glinting. "There are very few wizards in this castle capable of wandless magic at your level. Even fewer can summon and direct objects with raw thought under duress."
Adrian nodded slowly.
He turned, moving toward the door, his robes whispering across the floor. "Rest now. Hogwarts is safe — for the moment."
Adrian's voice caught him before he left. "The book… what I found in the Room. It felt wrong. Like it was alive."
Dumbledore stopped. For a heartbeat, he said nothing. Then, very quietly, "Some things in this castle are best left sleeping."
"Wait!"
"What is it, Mr. Atlas?" Asked Dumbledore with a calm voice.
"Do I get to keep the snake remains? It could be sold for a lot of money, money that I could use."
Dumbledore said as he left without another word, "I believe we could make an exception this time, considering your heroic actions."
Days passed in uneasy peace. The Chamber's secrets were buried once more, the school rejoiced, and whispers of Adrian's duel spread through the corridors like wildfire. Some said he'd fought himself. Others whispered he'd controlled the basilisk.
Draco Malfoy, of course, hated every word of it.
He had challenged Adrian once and been humiliated; now, even he avoided his gaze.
But the victory felt hollow.
Each night, Adrian dreamed of the Chamber — the echo of Riddle's laughter, the taste of venom in the air. One evening, after curfew, he sat by the window of the Ravenclaw tower, watching the rain slide down the glass. The castle slept, but he could not. 'I really need to improve, now that I got a taste of real combat, I understand how weak I am, sigh… But at least I have achieved some of my goals.'
Behind him, a soft voice replied. "You really don't rest, do you?"
Adrian turned. It was Harry, faint smile on his face.
"You're awake," Adrian said.
"So are you."
They stood in silence for a moment — two boys who'd been through too much.
Harry broke it first. "You saved Ginny's life. And probably mine."
Adrian shook his head. "We both did. You distracted him when I couldn't move."
Harry chuckled softly. "You're impossible, you know that? Most people would just say thank you."
"I'm not most people."
Harry grinned. "Yeah, I noticed." He hesitated, then added, "You really scared me down there. When you… You know. The fang, the magic — it didn't even look like spells. It was like the air itself moved."
Adrian looked back out the window. He didn't answer.
Harry said slowly. "Whatever it was, it worked. You saved us."
For the first time in days, Adrian allowed himself to breathe — really breathe. The rain outside slowed, turning to mist.
"Maybe," he said quietly. "But something tells me this isn't the last time we'll see him. Or what he left behind."
Harry frowned. "Riddle?"
Adrian's eyes glinted faintly in the candlelight.
They stood there a while longer, two figures silhouetted against the storm.
\\\
Far away, in his office, Dumbledore sat before the fire, eyes closed, whispering to the empty room: "The boy has touched what should not be touched. And yet… perhaps that was always fated."
The phoenix beside him gave a low, mournful cry.