The presence at the entrance of the chamber sent a chill down Hadrian's spine. The flames dimmed, casting flickering shadows that seemed to dance unnaturally against the stone walls. His magic hummed beneath his skin, pulsing in warning.
Then, from the darkness, a figure emerged.
It was cloaked in deep midnight blue, the edges of its robes lined with silver embroidery that shifted like living threads. Its face was hidden beneath a hood, but Hadrian could feel its gaze piercing through him.
"Who are you?" Hadrian demanded, his grip tightening around the Peverell Grimoire. The weight of the ancient book felt heavier now, as if it recognized the significance of this moment.
The figure did not speak immediately. Instead, it raised a gloved hand, palm outward, and the magic in the chamber responded—not with hostility, but with familiarity. The golden runes on the walls pulsed in time with the stranger's slow, deliberate movements.
"You are late," the figure finally said, voice smooth but carrying the weight of centuries.
Hadrian narrowed his eyes. "Late for what?"
"For your inheritance."
A sharp gust of wind howled through the chamber, though there were no visible openings. The ancient torches lining the walls flickered wildly, yet the figure remained still, unmoved by the sudden shift in energy.
"The blood of the Peverells runs through your veins, yet you have only scratched the surface of your birthright. The world has forgotten our name, but the magic remembers. The Hallows were merely keys, Hadrian. You stand at the threshold of something far greater."
Hadrian's fingers twitched. The weight of his past—the Boy-Who-Lived, the Master of Death—seemed so small compared to what was being implied now.
"Who are you?" he repeated, this time softer, more cautious.
The figure finally pulled back its hood, revealing a face far too familiar.
Ignotus Peverell.
His ancestor.
The realization struck Hadrian like a physical blow.
Ignotus' sharp, intelligent gaze held no warmth, only scrutiny. He studied Hadrian as if weighing his worth. "I am but an echo, a remnant left behind to guide the true heir. You have worn the Hallows, but you do not yet understand their true purpose."
Hadrian swallowed. "Then teach me."
For the first time, Ignotus smirked.
"Let us begin."
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