Limitations

Back at Devil May Cry HQ, Hadrian and Sirius carefully positioned the three portraits in a quiet room, ensuring they were secure and placed prominently. As they straightened the frames, the portraits of Charlus Potter, Dorea Black, and Arctus Black began to stir, blinking as they took in their surroundings.

Dante walked in, casting a smirk toward the newly awakened portraits. "So, this is the famous Potter family, huh?"

Charlus's gaze swept the room before it settled on Hadrian. "I assume this is where you've been spending your time?"

Hadrian nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, this is Devil May Cry HQ. Everyone here works with me, including Dante." He gestured toward his uncle, who gave a casual wave.

"It's… different," Dorea murmured, her eyes wide as she took in the odd assortment of weapons, artifacts, and demonic memorabilia scattered around the HQ. "But it seems fitting, considering everything you've been up to."

Once introductions were completed, Hadrian decided to summon his familiars. With a silent command, Hedwig materialized on his shoulder, her feathers shimmering with an ethereal glow. Oryou uncoiled gracefully around his arm, her scales dark as night with a subtle red glow beneath. Charlus and Dorea exchanged startled glances, while Arctus eyed the creatures with a mixture of fascination and respect.

"Quite the impressive companions," Arctus remarked a note of approval in his voice. "They don't make familiars like that anymore."

"They've saved my life more times than I can count," Hadrian replied, giving a soft smile as he stroked Hedwig's feathers. "And they've been with me through all sorts of madness."

With introductions complete, Hadrian and Sirius settled into their work, pouring over the tomes and spellbooks they had brought from the Potter and Black vaults. Each page was filled with spells that ranged from practical to deadly, from obscure enchantments to powerful arcane defenses. But as Hadrian continued studying, he encountered a familiar problem: though he could perform basic magic wandlessly, advanced spells required intense focus and drained him rapidly without a proper conduit. A wand would allow him to channel his magical energy more efficiently and with greater precision.

He let out a frustrated sigh after reading through a description of Protego Diabolica, a spell derived from Fiendfyre that could create a barrier of dark blue flames, burning enemies while protecting allies. Though he could feel the magic thrumming beneath his fingertips, he knew that casting it without a wand would demand an extraordinary amount of energy and concentration.

"So much for Grindelwald's innovations," he muttered, closing the tome with a hint of irritation.

Sirius, who had been examining a different book, looked over. "What's wrong?"

"I can use wandless magic," Hadrian admitted, "but these more complex spells… they're hard to control without a wand. It's like trying to pour water through a sieve instead of a funnel."

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. Wandless magic is demanding enough on its own, and these spells are meant to be channeled. Still, you've come a long way."

Hadrian managed a small smile, though the frustration still simmered beneath. He could perform spells that most wizards would never dream of attempting wandlessly, but he knew that there was still a threshold he couldn't easily cross without a proper conduit. Many of the powerful spells in the Peverell Grimoire, Grindelwald's notes, and the Black family tomes were tantalizingly out of reach—possible to perform, but not without intense strain.

As the days passed, Hadrian continued studying, attempting spells like Ignis Diabolica—a cursed fire meant purely for offense—and Vincula Umbrae, chains forged from shadows to bind enemies. He managed to cast them wandlessly, but each time he felt the magical drain hit harder than he anticipated as if each spell took more out of him than the last. Despite his prowess, he knew that these spells would eventually exhaust him without a way to channel them effectively.

One evening, while in conversation with the portraits, Charlus noticed Hadrian's weariness.

"You look troubled," Charlus commented with a gentle smile. "Learning powerful magic is no easy feat, I'd imagine."

Hadrian sighed. "The spells I need are right here in front of me, but without a proper focus, they're almost as dangerous to me as they are to my enemies. I can cast them, but it's draining."

Arctus, always the pragmatist, raised an eyebrow. "Then find a way to remedy that. If a wand is what you need, then you should seek it out. Don't let a tool be the thing that limits you."

Dorea's voice was softer, filled with maternal warmth. "Patience, Hadrian. Some spells aren't meant to be rushed. Perhaps this is fate's way of telling you to take your time."

Hadrian gave a nod, grateful for their words even as his impatience simmered. The knowledge was there, waiting for him to unlock it, and he felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on him. He would find a way to wield these spells—one way or another.

Just as he pondered his next steps, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, followed by the creak of the door opening. Morrison, the calm and unflappable fixer, strolled in with his usual stack of files.

"Got a job for you all," he announced, setting the papers down on the table with a grin. "Hope someone's up for a bit of adventure."

Dante, lounging on the couch with his feet up, stretched with a dramatic yawn. "Oh, I dunno, Morrison… it's been a long week. Saving the world does take it out of you."

Lady grinned, tossing a playing card onto the table. "I second that. Besides, I think it's Hadrian's turn."

Hadrian rolled his eyes, glancing around at the amused faces. Clearly, he wasn't getting out of this one easily. With a resigned sigh, he crossed his arms and muttered, "Fine, but only if we draw lots."

After a bit of grumbling, they resorted to the age-old method of drawing lots from a worn-out jar kept for such situations. Dante pulled first, then Lady, then Trish… until, inevitably, it was Hadrian's turn. He peeked at the paper he'd drawn and groaned.

From his shoulder, Hedwig let out what sounded suspiciously like a murmur. Though he didn't quite catch it, he thought he heard something like, "E-rank luck…"

"What was that, Hedwig?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Hedwig preened her feathers, her golden eyes innocent. "Just your imagination, master."

"Right. And here I was thinking of treating you with extra seeds this week," he muttered. "Looks like that's going to be 'limited rations' instead."

Hedwig squawked indignantly, but he only smirked. Turning to Morrison, he asked, "Alright, what's the job?"

Morrison handed him a file with a chuckle. "Pack your bags, kid. You're going to Sweden."

Hadrian took the file with a resigned sigh, skimming the details. It looked like one of those jobs that would inevitably lead to more trouble than expected, but he was ready for it.

"Sweden, huh?" he muttered, already mentally preparing himself for the journey.

The team watched him with amused smirks, happy that, for once, someone else would be handling the impending chaos. Hadrian, meanwhile, couldn't shake the feeling that this mission was the first step toward something significant—something that would help him bridge the gap between his abilities and the power locked within those ancient spells.

As he left the room, he mentally noted to find that elusive wand when he could. But for now, Sweden awaited.