Chapter 22: A Game Of The Dead

Hadrian had walked for hours, yet he could not find the end to this retched library. He was sure he had passed that shelf more than twenty times already, but with this library one would never know.

He took in a deep breath before sitting down on one of the many dusty chairs that occupied the room, not caring if his jeans got dirty.

He looked up at the window that sat there, out of his reach. It looked to be almost dinner time yet here he was, stuck in a library. He thought it would have been Hermione who got stuck in a library first.

He would have Apparated if it weren't for the bloody wards surrounding the library. He couldn't even call for Callum, his Phoenix familiar, to come and flash him out of there, because for some weird reason, he couldn't tap into his summon.

With nothing left to do, he closed his eyes and leaned back into his chair, thinking of how he could have gotten himself into such a mess.

'Those blasted shelves.' He thought to himself, "The shelves..." He muttered his eyes slowly opening. An idea suddenly in his head. If there were hidden triggers in the shelves up stairs, there was bound to be more down here.

I mean, who would make an entrance yet no exit? The builder just didn't made the exit obvious, probably to keep strangers from stealing the knowledge in here. Hadrian was starting to hope those bones back there were just chairs designed that way.

He got up and got to work tilting out every book, pulling on every lamp and pushing against every shelf before a low creak was heard when he pulled a book titled 'Exits and Master Keys'.

Quite obvious now that he looked at it. But then again, how was he supposed to know he was to look for a specific book in exchange for his freedom. He was sure that there were more than one of these books around, because come on, who would use only one book as an escape route in such a huge library.

It would be like finding a needle in a hay stack. Hadrian made his way toward the sound, after stuffing a few books into his spacial ring he got at Gringotts as part of his inheritance. Plus a few more trinkets laying around in another spacial ring he got at Borkin and Burkes, proving why the builders made the exit so hard to find.

He was nothing but a curious mind, just like anyone else. It would be a matter of time before someone else finds that place and uses it knowledge as profit.

Soon he stopped infront of a wall, it's bricks lay widely apart. Wide enough to make a doorway which Hadrian gladly made his way through.

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Not that Hadrian was complaining or anything but why did freedom look so horrid?

The wall closed behind him as he stepped into the chamber of secrets. Well that's another way to get in here. Less disgusting than the original route. At least this time he knew the exit.

Making his way up he couldn't help but ponder if he should go there again. And the answer was fairly obvious, this time he would make sure that Callum was with him.

Once out and in the open, he looked around the hallway, which was partially abandoned except the occasional 5th years wrapping up from their study session from the library and probably didn't know where they were.

Tired and in need of a shower, Hadrian made his way to his dorm room, knowing full well he had a lot of explaining to do about missing classes throughout the day. McGonagall would not be happy.

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The smell of decay was pungent, it's fumes wafting through the air in a whirlwind. Weirdly enough eggs and soiled diapers were added to the mix of smells.

A loud crunch was heard, followed by a crack. It was silent for a while until the noise started up again. The shed, where the sound was coming from, had bold words of 'Keep Out' plastered all over the door. If the crunch and cracks weren't something to stay away from, those words were a good warning.

Seeing as they were written in blood. Or at least what looked like it. Anyone would have suspected that it was red paint, but the metallic smell would give it away.

A man in a long red gown stood in the center of the shed, black gloves covered his hands and a mask resting on his face leaving only his hair and feet exposed.

He stood in front of a table littered with vials of lime green liquid and several limbs. Three pairs of legs and two pairs of hands. The skin on the decapitated body parts were slightly blue, a contrast on the ghostly paleness of the skin.

The man made a vertical cut on the palms, leading from the center to the wrists. He took a vial and poured the liquid in the open cut, not bothering to seal it. The liquid mixed in with the blood before bubbling and setting.

The wound closed up on it's own. Then silence.

Nothing happened for a minute before the hand started to twitch. The fingers convulsed, the veins turning a deep purple and stretching around the hand. Soon it stopped and flipped over.

It stood in place, before wobbling toward the door. It barely made it ten feet before combusting in a heap. It's flesh littered the floor and table near by. It's blood a dark green with a tinge of black, and it smelled like rotten eggs and soiled diapers.

"Subject number 14, failure." He muttered into a little recorder attached to his collar, before he dumped all the remaining vials in a bag labeled '14'. He sealed it and put them to the side with thirteen other bags.

He sighed and proceeded to get out a brush and a bucket of soapy water with a sponge and rag. He took the initiative of cleaning the mess thoroughly, no magic involved whatsoever in case he were to flee last minute.

He needn't leave any magical signatures behind. The last time it happened was not a good experience.

After 2 hours of thorough cleaning, he went back to the desk. There were times he didn't see the point in cleaning up right after an experiment went wrong. Because afterwards he would go in to test out another specimen.

He sighed again for what seemed like the umpteenth time, "Eight-O-one pm. Subject 15, Scarlett Knox, 23, female," He started speaking into the box. "Died of hypothermia during a trip to Russia. Buried at St. Poles graveyard in 1987."

He scribbled a note on the wall, "No children, a fiance currently married, no immediate family members, end result may likely give her ice touch due to the added substance of Lirzium components."

He turned to the table, looking at an arm. It's ring finger sporting a deep red bruise from having a ring forcefully taken off. It's fingers slender and wrist slightly caked with ice.

"What a cruel way to die. Being locked in a fridge by your own fiance should not have been your last memory." The man said picking up the arm gently before placing a kiss on it's palm.

He looked to the side, were bodies lined up by the walls in a sitting position. Each one of them had their eyes pried open with pins attaching the eyelids in a fold.

He walked up to the woman with her face scrunched up in pain, the only body showing emotion. Her blonde hair covered in mud and blood, her skin a sickly blue and purple.

He kissed her cheek, "You'll know why he did it soon enough, then your suffering will end. I promise." The last part directed at all the bodies.

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Draco was losing it.

His back would not stop twitching. Something sharp was protruding through his back, he was sure it was going right through his spine. Each side of his back a dark blue and purple as something tried to break itself out of his skin.

He wanted to scratch, but even the simplest of touches was like a shockwave through his body. There was a time he accidentally hit his back on his bed board, and it started to bleed.

His mother and father had yet to reply and he was getting worried. It had been 3 days since he sent that letter, and as much as he hated to admit, he needed help. He scratched out telling his friends.

Pansy could keep a secret yes, but not from Blaise, who would eventually blurt it out to someone like Greg then soon the whole dorm would know he had a weakness.

And Slytherin wasn't exactly the best place to let out a weakness. Especially one such as this. As if being a Veela didn't already make him a target of jokes and inappropriate comments.

It would get way worse here, so his best option was either Severus or Madam Pomfrey. Severus seemed like a better option because if he were to tell Madam Pomfrey, it would reach Dumbledore. Not like he didn't trust him or anything...

...that was exactly what it was.

Sure the man was as kind as they come, there was just something about his eyes that threw Draco off. There was always this look in his eyes whenever they were to cross paths.

Even after the whole Crucio incident, which he frantically apologized for, his eyes seemed to tell a different story behind those crescent shaped glasses.

A sharp pain intruded his thoughts, "Fuck." He coughed out. His skin felt like tiny little pins were stabbing him all at once through his pores. He scratching his neck at an attempt to focus on another thing.

He pulled his hands away since they weren't working as a distraction only to be met with his finger nails stained with blood and feathers in the corners.

"DRACO?!" A voice rung out in the previously silent room, Draco turned to see Blaise making his way toward him, he knew he should have locked the door.

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Ronald Weasley was a lot of things, passionate, an idiot, a loyal friend, but he was no one's sidekick. He was sure Harry didn't think of him that way, yet he couldn't help but think he did.

Sure there were instances were he didn't act like the 'best' friend but he was sure he wasn't the 'worst'. With the way Harry has been ignoring he was starting to rethink that. The last conversation they had was when he refused to call Harry by his supposed real name.

He knew he should have respected his wishes yet that name just gave him an unsettling feeling deep in his chest. He has to find Harry and apologize quickly before things escalate.

Harry already helps a lot by giving them some money from his vaults every month. He was sure with how occupied Harry was with everything, he had no idea how much the money helped them.

It's not like he was only apologizing for the money, even if he decided to take back all the money, Ron would still be by his side. I mean how many near death experiences can you go through and not stay friends.

Ron waited by Har-

Hadrian's room at lunch since he missed him at breakfast, he didn't show. Maybe he was busy in the library? Ron decided to come by later. He waited by his door during dinner. Dean said Hadrian had been gone the whole day and had still not been back.

So Ron waited until dinner was over and he was sure Hadrian would be back soon, yet still nothing. Was he being ignored to the extent that Hadrian would avoid entering the common room entirely?

Now he knew he had to do something. He had to talk to Hermione, she might get to talk to him sooner than he can. He just needed to wait until tomorrow, hopefully it wouldn't be too late.

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Ginny Weasley, what is there to say about her. She was fierce, a great friend, an aspiring Professional Quidditch player, and hopelessly bisexual. A good mix.

She sat on her bed throwing and catching a teddy bear she got from Charlie on her 13th birthday. She caught it and stared into it's beady black eyes.

"Why do I feel so left out, Bucky?"

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Heeeeeyyyyyy, yeah I got a lot on my plate. That and I was just stuck on what to do, that's why everything is so jumbled together.

Literally has plot yet no plot. I just added stuff in a frenzy of anticipation.

Lirzium: Something I made up. It is a substance that rearranges one's DNA into whatever it is added in. Eg. If it was added into an ice cube, it would make one's body adjust to properties of the ice. It's temperature or be able to do whatever an ice cube can.