(General POV - 2013)
The rain hammered against the window panes, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the unease churning within Brian. He sat at his desk, staring at the open textbook, the words blurring into meaningless squiggles. Outside, the wind howled, a mournful sound that seemed to echo the emptiness he felt inside.
He'd always been a curious child, a voracious reader, his mind a sponge soaking up knowledge. But lately, a different kind of hunger gnawed at him, a persistent emptiness that no amount of information could fill. It was a feeling of… displacement. Of not quite belonging.
His parents, Martha and David Hamilton, were loving, supportive, their home a haven of warmth and laughter. But there were moments, fleeting glimpses, when Brian caught a look in their eyes, a flicker of something… guarded. A secret held just out of reach.
And then, the letter arrived.
It was a blustery june morning when the owl, its feathers ruffled, its amber eyes wide and watchful, landed on the windowsill, a thick parchment clutched in its talons. The emblem on the seal – a coat of arms with a lion, a badger, a snake, and an eagle – held a strange allure.
"Brian, dear, there's a… letter for you," Martha said, her voice a touch hesitant as she entered his room.
He took the letter, his fingers tracing the embossed seal, a shiver of anticipation running down his spine.
"Open it, then," David said, his voice a rumbling chuckle. "See what it says."
But as Brian broke the seal, his parents' smiles faded, replaced by a look of… surprise.
He unfolded the parchment, his eyes scanning the elegant script:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Dear Mr.Hamilton … – he paused, his last name blurred by a strange inkblot. It was as if someone had tried to erase it.
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School…
The words blurred as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Hogwarts. It was real. He was… a wizard.
"What does it say, Brian?" Martha asked, her voice a touch too high, a tremor of something… fear? … underlying her words.
Brian looked up at his parents, their faces now pale, their expressions a mix of shock and a strange, unspoken apprehension.
"I've been accepted at… Hogwarts," he said, the words a hesitant whisper.
Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence.
And then, a sharp rap on the door, followed by a woman's voice, brisk and official, "Is this the residence of Brian Hamilton?" Her voice trailed off, as if unsure of his last name.
A witch, her robes emerald green, her expression stern, stood on the threshold, her gaze fixed on Brian with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. Her eyes, a piercing blue, seemed to see right through him, as if searching for something… a secret hidden beneath his skin.
"Yes, he's here," David said, his voice a rumble that lacked its usual warmth.
The witch stepped into the room, her gaze lingering on Brian, a flicker of something… recognition? … in her eyes. She held out a slim, silver wand.
"Just a formality," she said. "Verification of identity."
Brian hesitated, his gaze darting from the wand to his parents, a growing unease knotting his stomach.
"It's alright, Brian," Martha said, her voice a touch too bright. "Just… do as she says."
He extended his arm, the cool metal of the wand brushing against his skin. The witch muttered a few words, her voice low and rhythmic, and a faint, blue glow emanated from the wand's tip.
"Brian..." she paused, her brow furrowing slightly, "...Welcome to the wizarding world."
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(2017-18)
Years passed in a blur of Hogwarts classes, late-night study sessions, and the exhilarating discovery of magic. Brian excelled in his studies, his mind a sponge absorbing knowledge, his curiosity a relentless hunger. He was sorted into Ravenclaw, a house known for its intellect and wisdom, and he found a sense of belonging among his peers, their shared thirst for knowledge a balm against the nagging emptiness that still lingered within him.
His fifth year brought a new fascination – Legilimency. The art of navigating the labyrinth of another's mind, of uncovering hidden thoughts and emotions. He practiced diligently, his natural aptitude blooming under Professor Flitwick's tutelage, the whispers of other minds a secret language he was eager to decipher.
One afternoon, as he was leaving the library, his arms laden with books, he bumped into Professor McGonagall. A wave of apologies tumbled from his lips, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"It's quite alright, Mr. Hamilton " she paused, her brow furrowing slightly, then continued, "Just be more careful."
Their gazes met, hers sharp and shrewd, those hazel eyes seeming to pierce through his carefully constructed composure. And for a fleeting moment, a whisper, a thought, a name, echoed in his mind.
Van Doren.
Then, silence. McGonagall's gaze shifted, her expression a mix of… what? Guilt? Recognition? The moment passed, but the seed of suspicion had been planted.
He couldn't shake the feeling that something was… wrong. The whispered name, the look in McGonagall's eyes… it was like a puzzle piece, a clue that refused to fit. He began to research, devouring every book, every article, every whispered rumor about Vincent Van Doren. The Hogwarts legend. The boy who'd killed Voldemort with a gun.
The more he learned, the more the unease intensified. The resemblance… it was undeniable. Those piercing blue eyes, the sharp angle of his jaw, even the way he held himself… it was like looking into a distorted mirror.
Brian's gaze drifted towards the picture on his bedside table – his parents, Martha and David, their smiles warm, loving. But the more he looked, the more the differences glared back at him. His brown hair, their mousy blonde. His lanky frame, their stocky builds.
The truth, a monstrous possibility he'd tried to ignore, was now clawing its way to the surface.
He couldn't take it anymore. He had to know.
During the Christmas holidays, his heart pounding against his ribs, he confronted them.
"Tell me the truth," he demanded, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. "Am I… Am I adopted?"
The silence that followed was deafening. His parents, their faces pale, exchanged a look of… defeat.
"Yes, Brian," David finally said, his voice a heavy sigh. "You are."
The world tilted, the carefully constructed reality of his childhood shattering into a million pieces. He felt… betrayed. Abandoned.
"Who… who are my parents?" he asked, the words a desperate plea.
But they shook their heads, their faces filled with a sorrow he couldn't understand. "We don't know, Brian," Martha said, her voice a choked whisper. "We adopted you from… from an orphanage in London. You were just a baby…"
The orphanage records room was dusty, the air thick with the scent of mildew and forgotten lives. Brian stood before a row of ancient filing cabinets, his wand trembling in his hand. He'd broken in here, a reckless act fueled by desperation, the consequences irrelevant. He had to know.
He muttered a spell, and the cabinet drawers slid open, their contents spilling out in a chaotic jumble of files and faded photographs. He sifted through them, his heart pounding, until he found it.
His file.
Name: Brian
Date of Birth: 22/05/2002
Admission Date: September 2002
Mother: Hermione Granger
Father: Unknown
Hermione Granger. He knew the name. The wife of Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. A wave of nausea washed over him, the world tilting precariously.
Brian stumbled out of the orphanage, the file clutched in his hand, Hermione Granger's name burning into his mind like a brand. The world swam around him, the sounds of London blurring into a meaningless drone. He Disapparated, a reckless act fueled by a desperation he couldn't control, landing with a thud in a deserted alleyway near Diagon Alley.
He leaned against the damp brick wall, gasping for breath, the file crumpled in his fist. Hermione Granger. Harry Potter's wife. His mother.
The unfairness of it all, the raw, gaping wound of abandonment, ripped through him, fueling a rage he'd never known. He was nothing. A discarded secret. A burden too inconvenient for two of the most powerful figures in the wizarding world.
Was he not worth it? The question echoed in his mind, a bitter refrain that fueled the fire that was beginning to burn within him.
Days turned into weeks, the anger festering, growing into a cold, calculating fury. He returned to Hogwarts, a shell of his former self. His grades slipped, his friends worried, his teachers confused. But Brian barely noticed. He was consumed by a single, all-consuming obsession: finding his father.
He'd seen enough pictures of Vincent Van Doren, the man who'd become a global icon, to recognize the unsettling resemblance – the piercing blue eyes, the sharp jawline. Could it be? The possibility was both exhilarating and terrifying.
He graduated Hogwarts in 2020, the simmering suspicion of a constant shadow, a question he couldn't shake. The wizarding world was changing, Vincent Van Doren at the forefront of that change, his influence growing with each passing day. And Brian… he was adrift, lost in a sea of uncertainty and resentment.
Then, one night, driven by a desperate need for answers, he returned to Hogwarts. He snuck into the Headmaster's office, his heart pounding against his ribs, his wand a beacon in the dimly lit room. He found the book, the ancient tome that held the records of every student ever admitted to Hogwarts.
He muttered his name, his voice a barely audible whisper. The page shimmered, the ink swirling, then settling into a neat script:
Brian Van Doren.
Date of Birth: 22/05/2002
The truth hit him with the force of a physical blow, He staggered back, a wave of dizziness washing over him. It was true. He was Vincent Van Doren's son.
Why? The question echoed in his mind, a deafening roar that drowned out all reason. Why would they abandon him? Why would they keep him a secret? What had he done to deserve this?
He left the office, the truth a heavy weight upon his soul.
The anger, the betrayal, the longing… it twisted within him, transforming into something darker, more dangerous.
Vincent had everything – power, wealth, a family.
And Brian… Brian had nothing.
But another thing brian confirmed that day was that Dumbledore KNEW who his parents were, his real parents, YET HE SAID NOTHING.
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The fall of the Statute of Secrecy in 2021 only fueled Brian's rage. He watched as Vincent ascended to a position of global influence, his pronouncements shaping the world, his image plastered across newspapers and screens. The injustice of it all, the searing wound of abandonment, burned within him, a constant reminder of everything he'd been denied.
He would make them pay.
2028
The abandoned warehouse reeked of mildew and decay. But beneath the surface of neglect, a power thrummed, a dark energy fueled by a shared hatred. Brian stood at the head of a long, rough-hewn table, his gaze sweeping over the faces of his followers. They were a motley crew – disaffected purebloods, disillusioned half-bloods, even a few Muggle-borns who'd tasted the bitterness of Vincent's new world order, who felt marginalized, forgotten.
They looked up at him, their eyes burning with a mix of hope and fear, their faces masks of expectation.
"The world is changing," Brian said, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the stillness of the warehouse. "Vincent Van Doren is reshaping it in his image. He's dismantling our traditions, exposing our secrets, playing god with our lives."
He paused, letting his words sink in, fueling their anger, their resentment.
"He claims he's building a better future," Brian continued, his voice laced with a bitter scorn. "But it's a lie. It's a gilded cage, designed to control us, to keep us subservient, to make us forget who we are."
He met their gazes, one by one, his blue eyes burning with a cold intensity.
"We will not be controlled. We will not be silenced. We will not be forgotten."
He slammed his fist onto the table, the wood shuddering under the force of his rage.
"We are Fenrir," he said, his voice a low growl. "And we will bring him down."
The followers cheered, their voices a ragged chorus, their faces alight with a fanatic fervor. Brian watched them, his heart a cold, hard stone. He'd given them a cause, a purpose, a leader. And in their eyes, he saw the reflection of his own rage, his own desire for vengeance.
He'd make Vincent pay.
For abandoning him.
For forgetting him.
For everything.