Stabbed through the heart? Burned alive? Adrian couldn't help but shiver thinking about all the horrible ways he might meet his end. He tried desperately to dig deeper into the original Adrian's memories, but it was like trying to grab water with his bare hands.
The memories were fragmented, buried so deep in his mind that no matter how hard he concentrated, they slipped away from him. It was infuriating.
"Whar a headache," Adrian muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples as a headache began to build. It looked like before the semester ended, he'd have to learn Occlumency or maybe find a way to sneak into Dumbledore's office and use that Pensieve to sort through this mental mess. Otherwise, he might be completely screwed.
Hell, he didn't even know where his supposed home was...
There was nobody he could really trust in this situation.
"Harry Potter!"
Professor McGonagall's voice cut through his brooding like a knife, yanking his attention back to the Sorting Ceremony. Adrian wasn't the only one, every single person in the Great Hall turned toward the stage. It was similar to when Adrian had been called up, but obviously his little moment couldn't compare to the celebrity status of the Boy Who Lived.
As a skinny, messy-haired kid with glasses walked nervously onto the stage, the applause erupted like thunder. The second-year Gryffindors sitting near Adrian were clapping so enthusiastically their hands had to be stinging, all of them craning their necks to try and catch a glimpse of the famous lightning bolt scar hidden beneath those unruly black locks.
"Harry Potter? As in THE Harry Potter?"
"My mum told me he defeated You-Know-Who when he was barely walking!"
"Please let him be in Gryffindor!"
Adrian joined the applause, it would look suspicious if he didn't. Besides, he really thought Harry deserved the recognition. The kid's miserable childhood with the Dursleys was the direct result of his parents' sacrifice to save the wizarding world.
If Lily Potter hadn't used that ancient protection charm that cost her everything and stripped Voldemort of his power, who knew how many more families would have been destroyed?
When the Sorting Hat announced Harry's placement in Gryffindor, their section of the hall went absolutely wildl. The Weasley twins grabbed each other and shouted, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" while jumping up and down like maniacs. The polite clapping from the Slytherin table was noticeably less enthusiastic.
Adrian caught sight of what looked like a Slytherin prefect in the front row, his expression sour as sour milk when the Hat mentioned Harry's refusal to join the snakes.
Adrian watched the chaos with quiet amusement, a small smirk playing on his lips. Enjoy the hero worship while it lasts, Harry, he thought. Once everyone realizes you're just another wizard behind all that fame, the novelty will wear off pretty quickly.
But then Adrian's eyes drifted up to the staff table, where Dumbledore was watching Harry with obvious fondness twinkling in those blue eyes. Suddenly, that Slytherin prefect's sourness made perfect sense. With the headmaster so clearly favoring the Golden Boy, Slytherin could probably kiss their House Cup hopes goodbye for the foreseeable future.
As Harry made his way down from the stage, Percy Weasley practically launched himself forward to shake hands the moment Harry's feet touched the floor. Students shifted and shuffled, everyone wanting to claim the seat next to the famous Boy Who Lived.
Even George and Fred abandoned Adrian to join the growing crowd of admirers, leaving him sitting alone at his spot.
Adrian didn't mind the solitude. He was perfectly content focusing on the magnificent feast spread before him. Everyone always said British food was terrible, but Hogwarts cuisine was surprisingly excellent. Probably because house-elves were doing the cooking instead of actual British people, Adrian mused.
He could feel eyes on him and looked up to find Dumbledore studying him with those penetrating blue eyes that seemed to see right through a person's skull.
Adrian wasn't intimidated. He offered the headmaster his most innocent, slightly shy smile, then deliberately stuffed a large piece of treacle tart into his mouth and chewed with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Whether Adrian's harmless act was convincing or Dumbledore simply lost interest, the ancient wizard's attention shifted elsewhere after returning the smile.
Once the Sorting Ceremony concluded, students had plenty of time to enjoy the continued feast. Adrian ate until he was properly stuffed, and then watched with interest as Dumbledore waved his wand to clear away the remnants.
Every scrap of food vanished completely, as if it had never existed at all.
The magic still amazed him. The older students barely glanced at the display, having witnessed it countless times, but for Adrian, experiencing real magic for the first time, it was genuinely impressive.
Dumbledore rose slowly from his chair, and every conversation in the hall died as hundreds of eyes focused on the headmaster.
"Well, now that we are all fed and watered, I have a few start-of-term notices to share with you all."
Dumbledore's voice carried easily through the vast hall. His gaze swept over the first-years before lingering meaningfully on the Weasley twins.
"First-years should note that the Forbidden Forest on the grounds is strictly forbidden to all students. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
"Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that magic should not be used between classes in the corridors."
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term..."
After rattling off the standard yearly announcements, Dumbledore paused dramatically and raised his voice.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Adrian had to resist the urge to snort out loud. Really? That's your idea of keeping students away?
Tell a bunch of curious teenagers that something could kill them without explaining why or what's actually there? That wasn't a warning, that was practically an engraved invitation for trouble.
Sure enough, several first-years actually giggled at what they assumed was Dumbledore's attempt at humor, while the older students who knew the headmaster better looked genuinely concerned.
The Weasley twins, predictably, had gone from casual interest to intense focus, their heads bent together in what was obviously the beginning of a planning session. Adrian would bet his last dollar they were already scheming about how to investigate that supposedly deadly corridor.
Good luck with that, Adrian thought. I'm sure Dumbledore will have a nice chat with you before you get yourselves killed. Can't have his chess pieces removing themselves from the board before the game really begins.