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Famiglia Porter

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James Porter was a science and tech genius. His inventions and contributions to society have made him a billionaire by the time he graduated university at 21 with a Doctorate in Science and Technology under his belt. He was also an only child and the heir and soon-to-be leader of the most powerful mafia family in Britain that dealt in weapon production and trafficking as well as experiments that were seen as unethical by the public, but could revolutionise the world if society wasn’t so hostile towards human experimentation.

Not that the public knew about Porters being a mafia family. For the outside world, they were a respectable family that programmed high security and anti-virus software alongside a few electronic devices.

James was young, fit, tall, handsome, charismatic, but also selfish, possessive, obsessive, cold-blooded and ruthless when it came to business, his experiments, and protecting what was his … or at least what he considered his. He was the epitome of what society called “the Alpha Male”.

Despite his obvious flaws in character, he was blessed with a wonderful and gorgeous wife, Vivian, who he loved and adored with every fibre of his being. However, sometimes (most of the time), it went beyond that, but he didn’t really care. Call it love or obsession; he would never let her go for as long as he lived.

Just like him, Vivian was the daughter of a mafia family, second largest in Britain actually that dealt in the research and development of biological weapons of mass destruction, but for the outside world they were nothing but a respectable pharmaceutical company. She was young (only a few months younger than he was), fit, healthy, highly intelligent and intuitive, drop-dead gorgeous, but unlike him, she was a far more good-hearted person. She could be vicious as well, of course, but if he was a demon, she was an angel. And if he was a sinner then she was a saint.

Yet it was the cruelty of life that it was she who had been punished for some reason, because even after six years of marriage, at 24, they were still unable to conceive a child no matter how much they wanted one. At first, they thought the timing was off, but when almost two years went by with no child on the way, they decided to visit a doctor.

Luckily, James had friends in important places and it just so happened that one of his childhood friends was now a gynaecologist and an obstetrician. They met up and discussed the matter. Ian tested both of them, yet no matter how many tests they subjected themselves to; the one with the fertility issue was his darling wife.

They tried every fertility treatment that existed (even the obscure ones), yet none yielded the desired results. Vivian remained infertile and it was putting a strain on her psyche and their marriage. His family was pressuring him into producing an heir and when they learned that his wife couldn’t provide him with a child even after several fertility treatments, they suggested he find himself someone else.

He shot the person who suggested it in the leg. Then, he looked at the rest of his family and said calmly, “Anyone else thinks I should divorce my wife or cheat on her?” When no reply came, except for the pained moans of his uncle and muffled sobs of his aunt as she held her husband close to her chest, he put the gun back in the holster and said, “I’m glad we are on the same page,” before leaving the room.

He entered the bedroom he shared with his wife and found her sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to him, her shoulders and head hunched.

“Hey babe,” he greeted, hugging her from behind and pressing a kiss to her temple.

When she barely reacted and didn’t even greet back, he got worried. Had she heard the discussion he had downstairs with his family?

“Vivi, what’s wrong?”

“James,” she sounded hollow and lifeless, “maybe we should separate.”

He stiffened. Panic and dread settled in his chest and stomach at the thought of separating from Vivian. “No,” he retorted with such finality that left no room for objection.

“James …” she sighed in mild protest.

“We’re not separating, much less divorcing, Vivi,” he said sternly, forcing her to look at him.

“James, I’m barren,” she choked out, fighting tears. “My body will never be able to conceive and I can’t take away your option to become a father by tying you to me through marriage.”

He cupped her face and pressed their foreheads together.

“Vivi, I don’t care if you can give me a child or not, I’m not letting you go,” he said with conviction. “When I proposed to you, when I married you, I did it because I knew from the moment I met you that you were the one for me.”

She closed her eyes to prevent tears from spilling over. He rubbed her cheeks and nuzzled her nose.

“Yes, I imagined you swollen with my child many times,” he admitted. “I can’t tell you how many times I got off knowing I was bare inside you and that I was filling you up with my seed.”

Her breath hitched.

“But I didn’t marry you because of that,” he assured her, because he needed her to understand what he was saying.

“I want you to understand something.” Her eyes locked with his. “I love you. I will always love you, whether we have children or not. No woman, or man, can make me feel like you do, baby. I have never wanted someone like I want you. Even after six years, I still get hard just hearing your voice.”

She let out a breathless giggle and she covered his hands with hers, leaning into his touch, closing her eyes.

“We can always adopt one,” he said gently. “If you want, I can talk to Angus tomorrow and tell him to gather a list of orphanages here in London and we can start with the visits next week.” He searched her eyes. “Would you like that?”

Her lips curled in a shy smile and she nodded. He returned her smile with a grin of his own, before leaning forward and catching her lips in a passionate kiss.

As their lips continued moving eagerly against one another, she tangled her fingers in his unruly hair and he enveloped her in his strong, muscular arms. They began undressing each other in a hurried and desperate fashion, almost tearing the fabric off their bodies to get to the skin beneath it as fast as they could.

They fell on the bed in a mess of limbs, kissing, nibbling, licking and sucking at every expanse of skin they could get their lips on, while their hands desperately caressed the skin of the other.

Nestled between her legs, James teased her entrance a few times before burying himself in her soaking and eager pussy in one swift and hard thrust, eliciting a moan from Vivian. He slowly pulled back, only to slam his hips forward with force again. He repeated the action a few times, each time his wonderful wife rewarded him with a sound of pleasure, until he set a steady but harsh rhythm.

Between whimpers, moans, declarations of love, dirty talk, kisses and thrusts, the bubble of pleasure inside their bodies grew and expanded, and as it neared explosion, James’ pace grew in speed and vigour, until the bubble burst into million smaller ones that coursed through their veins, filling them with indescribable pleasure and happiness.

Winded, they slowly came from their orgasmic high, enveloped in each other’s limbs, scents and warmth, as James continued to empty himself inside his wife Vivian. It didn’t matter if his seed didn’t take root inside her womb, he would continue to fill her for as long as he was able to make love to her. There was no other place for his sperm but her pussy and occasionally her mouth.

They quickly fell asleep tangled in each other under covers and the following day, they would start looking into orphanages and children to adopt.

Chapter Text

11 November 2001, London, 11:11

It took them two days to find the perfect child.

While the family lawyer did research on various London orphanages, he personally knew an employee (read: girlfriend) at Wool’s Orphanage, where they decided to start their search.

There, a twenty-one-year-old, red-haired and freckle-faced sociology female student, who was working there part-time to gain experience with social work, greeted them, together with muffled background noises and children talking. She was carrying a bundle.

“Good morning, how may I help you?” She readjusted her hold on the baby in her arms.

“Good morning,” greeted James with a polite smile. “We’re James and Vivian Porter; I think that my lawyer Angus Ferguson might have mentioned us to you in the last couple of days.”

The spark of recognition lit up the woman’s eyes. “Ah, yes, Angus … uh, I mean, Mr. Ferguson,” she quickly corrected herself, “did call to inform that a Porter couple is interested in adoption and that we should be expecting you very soon. Please, come in.”

They crossed the doorway and looked around. The interior was warm and cosy, if a bit austere, but definitely not poor. The floor, walls and the central staircase looked well kept. The walls were full of children’s drawings and group photos of different generations of children that resided at the orphanage at some point.

“Fiona O’Connell, nice to meet you,” she said, smiling, only to wince apologetically, glancing down at the green bundle. “I would shake your hands, but I have my hands full right now.”

“Don’t worry,” Vivian assured her, smiling, her own eyes flitting to the infant in Fiona’s arms. “May I?” she asked tentatively, pointing at the bundle.

“Oh, of course,” Fiona assured her excitedly. She approached her and carefully handed her the child.

Vivian immediately nestled the sleeping toddler closer to her chest. The sight of chubby cheeks and a tuft of wild black hair so like James’ greeted her and filled her with warmth. The only odd thing about the baby was the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

“Look, James,” she whispered excitedly, “he has your hair.”

James stood behind her, looking over her shoulder. “That he does,” he chuckled, tickling the boy’s cheeks with the back of his index finger. The baby grimaced and shifted in Vivian’s arms.

“He’s our newest addition,” narrated Fiona quietly, observing the exchange. “Someone left him at the doorstep on November 1st, in the evening hours.”

“They left him … in this cold?” Vivian was completely horrified. Who would do something like that to a baby? Instinctively, she pulled him closer to her body to give him as much body heat as she could.

“They knocked,” explained Fiona, “but by the time we answered the door, there was no one in sight, except for the baby.”

“And what’s his name?” she asked.

“We don’t know,” said Fiona with a sad smile.

“What do you mean you don’t know his name?” James interjected, narrowing his brown eyes at the woman.

“The people who left him didn’t leave any sort of identification papers.”

“So you don’t know anything about this child?” pressed James.

“We did have the resident doctor take a look at him to see if he was healthy and if she managed to determine his age. We also took a sample of his blood and sent it to a genetics laboratory to see if we would find a DNA match, but, whoever his parents are or were, they are not in the system,” explained Fiona. “However, other than the fact that he appears to be at least a year old and seems to be very particular about who carries and feeds him, we know absolutely nothing about him. We have still not decided whether we should file in a birth certificate or not, because we don’t know if he already has one.”

“That’s awful,” sighed Vivian, “but you cannot leave him nameless.”

“Well,” she winced, “we hoped someone would adopt him by the end of the month and let the adoptive parents decide, but it’s been almost two weeks and there have been no couples interested in him or the other orphans whatsoever.”

“What do you mean when you say he’s particular about who carries and feeds him?” wanted to know James.

“It would seem he only feels comfortable with women who have red hair and men who have messy dark hair.”

“That’s very specific. Did your doctor say why that is?”

“Our resident psychologist thinks it has to do with the child’s parents and since it’s a shock for the baby to be surrounded by strangers, he seeks familiar features in females and males to feel safe.”

The baby started shifting again, moving about his arms. He slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times, before his eyes settled on the woman carrying him. He stared unblinkingly at her eyes and she looked down at his, which were the same shade of green as hers.

James leaned over her shoulder, closer to the baby. “Look, Vivi!” he commented, grinning mischievously. “He has your eyes.”

His voice drew the baby’s attention to him. The baby blinked once, twice, before his eyes started to water and he was bawling his eyes out a moment later, stretching his arms toward him.

Fiona wanted to intervene and take the child back, but James beat her to it.

“What’s wrong, little tyke?” he whispered softly to the baby as he held him in his arms.

“Dada,” hiccoughed the child, crying hysterically, still trying to reach for him. “Dada.” James brought the child closer to his chest, confusion on his face. He looked at his wife, who was just as surprised and confused as he was.

“This has never happened before,” breathed Fiona, shocked.

“What does this mean?” he asked her, while the baby clutched at the fabric of his suit, sobbing uncontrollably.

“If you’d wait a moment, I’ll go get the psychologist,” she said hurriedly and left them with the crying child.

James started to rock him gently to calm him down, “Sh, little tyke, it’s okay. Your daddy is here. Your daddy has you.”

At those words, the child’s sobs slowly began to settle, until he quieted down completely. Yet James continued to whisper soothing words into the baby’s hair and gently rock him from side to side. He felt his wife’s hand on his arm. He looked at her.

“I’m sure I’ve never been with anyone but you, babe,” he assured her. “So, unless I bear an uncanny resemblance to this boy’s father or I’m somehow related to the boy’s father, there is no way we’re biologically related.”

“I know,” she nodded. “Maybe his father is your doppelganger,” mused Vivian aloud.

“It’s possible.”

“Do you think his parents left him here?” wondered Vivian.

“If they did, I’ll punch the fuckers so hard, they’ll fly into the wall and leave a mark behind, if I see them,” said James darkly. “I just hope the father’s name is not James and the mother’s name Vivian, because then I’ll be doubly pissed.”

“If you hit the woman as well, they just might accuse you of gender violence,” his wife teased him.

“As if I care,” huffed James. “If she abandoned her child, I’ll beat her up, simple as that. She’s not immune because she’s a female, at least not in my book.”

She chuckled.

“What do you say, Vivi? Do we adopt him?” He wiggled his eyebrows excitedly. “He’s like a mix of the two of us with my hair and your eyes.”

“I would love to, James,” she said, smiling, “but do you think he would be okay with me holding and feeding him? You heard what Fiona said. He only lets redheads carry and feed him.”

“Let’s find out,” he said. “Hey, little tyke.” He propped the child up so he could see Vivian. “I want you to meet your mama. Can you say, mama?”

The child just gaped at Vivian, before looking at James again. He tried passing him to Vivian, but the child started protesting and clinging to his suit.

“It’s okay, little tyke, I’m not going anywhere, but your mama wants to hold you too,” he tried to reason with the infant.

“It’s okay, James,” she assured him with a sad smile. “It’s clear that I’m not a look alike of his mother, so he needs time to get used to me.”

James tried handing him to her again. This time, he did it even with the child squealing and fussing. It broke his heart to see tears gather in those emerald-green eyes, but he hated to see his wife sad more. However, he remained close, so the child could see both Vivian and him.

Slowly, he calmed down and he started paying more attention to Vivian. He looked at her with wonder and fascination, especially her eyes. His wife might not be an obvious look alike of the baby’s mother, but she might share the same colour of eyes as her.

“Mama?” the child mumbled reluctantly while placing his tiny, chubby hand on Vivian’s cheek.

Vivian’s eyes watered and she blinked away the happy tears. “Yes, sweetie,” she whispered, smiling brightly at the baby. “I’m your mama.”

“Mama,” repeated the child with more enthusiasm and excitement.

She hugged him close and kissed his cheek a few times. In the meantime, James pulled out his mobile phone and called Angus.

“Yo, Angus,” he said in his boss tone, “I need you to prepare adoption papers and a birth certificate ASAP, and then come to Wool’s Orphanage. Vivian and I have decided on a child we want to adopt and we want to take him home by dinner.”

“Already working on it, boss,” came Angus’ reply.

A few moments later, Fiona returned with the psychologist, who invited them to her office, where they could discuss the fascinating development.

After a thorough conversation with the orphanage’s administrative staff and staff specialising in childcare and development, they only needed to make things official and finalise the adoption. If James and Vivian Porter were normal citizens, they would have to wait for weeks, if not months, before being allowed to take their little tyke home, but when you’re rich and a mafia boss on the side, things move much faster and easier.

While they waited for Angus to appear with the necessary documentation, the child needed his diaper changed and he needed to be fed. The doctor allowed them to change the child’s diaper themselves so they could become familiar with the process.

As they were wiping and powdering his booty, they decided to use that time to pick a suitable name for the future Porter Heir.

“What about Daniel?” suggested Vivian. The child made a face. They supposed he didn’t like the suggestion very much.

“Sebastian?” James’ suggestion received the same kind of reaction.

“Jacob?” That one wasn’t either.

“Mathew?” No.

“Edward?” Another grimace.

“Connor?” No.

“Nathan?” No.

“Gabriel?” More grimacing.

“Adam?” No.

“William?” No.

“Charles?” He looked like he ate something extremely bitter and sour.

“Jonathan?” No.

“Henry?” The child paused as if thinking about it, only to grimace again.

“You’re a tough one to please, ha?” James tickled him and the child squealed in delight. “Vivian, I can already tell he’s going to be a fine Porter.”

“Oh, yeah?” she teased. “How do you know that?”

“Because this little tyke knows exactly what he wants and he’s not going to settle for anything else.”

She laughed. “Well, I hope we’re getting closer to the name he wants, otherwise we won’t finish by dinner.”

“He liked your latest suggestion a bit better,” mused James. “Let’s try other names that begin with H.”

“Haytham, maybe?” Again, the child seemed to consider it for a moment, only to scrunch up his face adorably, indicating his negative response.

James gasped. “I know what we’ll call you,” he announced excitedly. “We’ll call you Hadrian.”

The child frowned in thought again, but this time, he smiled wide and started clapping and laughing excitedly. James and Vivian laughed with him.

“Welcome to the family, Hadrian Porter.”

Chapter Text

When Vivian and James filled in Hadrian’s birth certificate, they used the date they met and adopted him as the birth date (11 November), while putting the previous year (2000) as the year he was born.

Since they didn’t know Hadrian’s biological parents, they simply put themselves as his parents and put their parents as the boy’s grandparents. Hopefully, no one was going to show up in a few years’ time to cause problems on that front. And if they did … well … James would eliminate the nuisance. No one was going to take away or ruin their chance to be parents to Hadrian. They might not have conceived him, but he would be damned if he let that be an obstacle.

When the papers were in order, James and Vivian took Hadrian with them, but before they went home, they stopped at the nearest department store to buy a cot, diapers, bottles, pacifiers, baby creams and shampoos, baby food and a few baby clothes.

After buying the essentials, they stopped at the pharmacy to buy some baby formula. Since they weren’t certain about Hadrian’s age, the doctor at the orphanage suggested they kept feeding him baby formula for at least another six months.

When they got home, James’ guards took care of transferring baby things from the car to the house, and set up a temporary nursery, while Vivian and he fed him and changed his diaper again. Once the baby was asleep, the guards managed to finish assembling the nursery in their boss’ bedroom.

The following day, James phoned his parents, Victor and Ana Porter, to let them know Vivian and he adopted a child and put them as the boy’s grandparents on the boy’s birth certificate. The news didn’t sit well with them at first, especially James’ father, who didn’t like the idea of his son adopting just any child to continue their family legacy, but as soon as they saw Hadrian, his uncanny resemblance to James and Vivian, and his demanding baby attitude, Ana fell in love and even Victor warmed up to him.

“I don’t know how you managed to find a child that looks like you and Vivian and acts like a Porter, but I’m glad you did and brought him into the family,” Victor told him proudly, squeezing his shoulder.

“Thank you, father.”

As the new grandma cooed over the baby, they told them how they met Hadrian and what they knew of his circumstances. Ana was horrified to learn someone would simply discard a baby like that without leaving any sort of legal or medical papers and even a hardened man like Victor thought it was a cowardly thing to do.

In the following week, they slowly introduced him to the rest of the family, receiving mixed reactions. Some were happy for them and some not so much, but they knew better than to say anything to James, because he just might feel like using them for bullet practice and riddling them with bullets.

Aside from formally introducing the toddler to the Porter family, Vivian and James also spent a lot of time setting up Hadrian’s room. Once it was ready, they moved him there. It was big, so once he outgrew his cot, they could easily replace it with a bed. Hadrian seemed to like the soothing pastel green walls, decorated with what appeared to be his favourite animals: a stag, a black dog, a wolf, a hamster, a rabbit, a hedgehog, a bear and a snake. When they took him toy shopping, he picked the same set of animals to cuddle with.

As the weeks passed and Hadrian was growing and developing, James felt compelled to record important milestones in his son’s life. Like the time when Hadrian stood on his own, when he made his first steps, when he learned how to use the potty, when he first ate from a spoon rather than a bottle, when he made his first friend in the form of a slightly older girl, Hermione Granger, the daughter of the Porter Family dentists.

As Hadrian’s second birthday approached, he showed interest in James’ work, he was particularly fascinated with Happy, the Humanoid Android, and Lucky, the AI of their house. He made regular visits to his father’s basement lab to observe him work. James felt elated his son was showing interest in his field of expertise. He welcomed him and showed him his projects, explaining them to him, even if he wasn’t sure how much of it Hadrian would understand.

Every so often, he would give him a few mechanical parts to put together as a puzzle and was surprised to find out Hadrian seemed to know what he was doing, because it never took him long before he was announcing, “Here, papa. I did it,” in his small, but confident voice, holding the result of his labour out to him.

When James found himself engrossed in a new project, where he couldn’t give Hadrian anything to put together, Hadrian either busied himself by watching him work or by leafing through big books on mechanical engineering, electricity and robotics, looking and frowning at the pictures, trying to figure out what they meant.

James thought it was an amusing and a very familiar sight. At least he knew what he would get his son for his second birthday: a few beginner books on robotics, electricity and mechanical engineering, but first, Vivian and he would teach him how to read and write.

By the time Hadrian turned three, he was already fluent in reading, speaking and writing. He still encountered some difficulty with the spelling, the pronunciation and the meaning of more technical terms he encountered in his father’s books, but otherwise, he didn’t seem to struggle too much with understanding most of what he read.

Together with developing his reading, speaking and writing skills, Vivian and James also developed his math skills, by teaching him math topics from grade one to grade five. Hadrian seemed particularly fond of calculating, because by the time he was four, he was so well versed in adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing, he could calculate three-digit numbers in his head in a matter of seconds.

After flying through several math textbooks for grades one to five, James and Vivian introduced him to math topics taught in grades six to ten with basic engineering physics sprinkled in between.

To reward his academic progress, James decided it was time for Hadrian to build a simple robot for his fourth birthday. The thought of building a robot with his father, made Hadrian’s eyes sparkle with joy and his lips split into a wide and toothy grin.

They sat in the lab side by side, with Hadrian coming up with the robot’s design and functions and with James helping Hadrian with the programming part. He wanted to have something small, cute and fluffy with bird-like feet so he could carry it around in his hands, pockets or shoulders like a pet. Its purpose would be that of a scientific calculator, but instead of buttons, it would use voice recognition to process the math operations and then display the result on the screen accompanied by different animal sounds.

It took them an entire day to build the robot and a couple of reminders from Vivian to eat, drink and go to the toilet, but by the end of it, Hadrian had his own emerald-green fluff ball calculator, which he named Muffin.

Due to their family status in public and underground circles, James and Vivian decided it would benefit Hadrian to know martial arts to defend himself against people who would try to harm or kidnap him.

“Hadrian,” began James, when all three sat on the sofa in the living room. “You know we Porters are an extremely influential family.”

Hadrian, aged four, nodded.

“Many envy our position and wealth, so, they target us every so often,” said James, wearing a serious expression. “Now that they know about you, they will target you as well, because harming or endangering you will affect your mother and me. To counter the number of successful attacks or kidnappings, your mother and I believe you should learn martial arts.”

“I understand.”

“However, sunshine,” continued Vivian, “your father and I are both familiar with the training and the pain that accompanies it when trying to reach a certain level of flexibility. We love you too much to want to see you in pain, but if you are to gain mastery of martial arts, there are no easy ways or shortcuts. It takes a lot of effort and determination. A lot of mental strength to plough through the hard times.”

“Don’t worry, mama,” assured her Hadrian, smiling gently. “If it is for my safety and well-being, I am willing to put myself through the wringer,” he announced confidently.

“Oh, baby,” she cooed, pulling him in for a hug and placing a kiss on top of his head. “When it will get difficult and painful, know that I will be here to kiss and hug away your pain,” she told him. “I will massage and bandage you too, but I will always comfort you after a particularly hard training session.” She looked at James and smiled. “And I’m sure your father will do the same as well.”

“You bet I will,” he said, joining the hug. Hadrian laughed, his melodic, child voice making his parents’ hearts flutter.

For the following two years, Hadrian trained almost every day in different martial arts, quickly making his way through different coloured belts. However, while his progress was quick, the road was painful, just like his parents said it would be, especially at the beginning, whenever he did the warm-up and stretching portion of the session. His body ached and screamed in excruciating pain; it made him think it would break and tear apart if he pushed himself any further.

At first, he tried to brave through the pain by holding in his tears and screams, but soon gave up and often times than not bawled his eyes out whenever his coach pushed him over his physical limitations. At least, as soon as he finished with a session, he ran to either his mother or father to cuddle and feel better and Happy always made sure to have a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of his favourite biscuits ready as well.

To help him brave through the pain, his parents showed him how to meditate and separate his mind from his body. It took him a few tries, but after a month, he managed to implement meditation in his martial arts training successfully, by reciting all the math and physics formulae he knew to date in his mind.

When he was seven and eligible to start school, he had managed to achieve mastery in Karate, Judo, Taekwondo, Kung Fu and Wing Chun. By that age, he had also learnt to do some programming, chemistry and biology. His reading material consisted mostly of scientific journals from different fields like mathematics, physics, chemistry, medicine and pharmacy.

He had also managed to make a few more fluffy and round robots: Buttercream, a purple robot that spoke and acted as an encyclopaedia; Toffee, a caramel-coloured robot that spoke and was a thesaurus; Biscuit, a neon-pink robot that acted as a wireless hairdryer and purred; and Pompom, a sapphire-blue robot that barked cutely and acted as a vacuum cleaner.

After a lot of thinking and talking as a family, they unanimously decided that Hadrian would go to school, but would skip a few years due to his mental capacities exceeding those of his peers. After the school had him take a number of different exams to determine the grade most suitable for him, they realised with shock his scores and knowledge were compatible with GCSE-level exams and he could potentially apply for an A-level course to start preparing for university.

Hadrian officially took his GCSEs, outperformed even the best of the nation and applied for A-levels. He didn’t mind attending classes with people who were nine years older than he was, he was just excited to learn college-level Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry and Biology.

The first time he attended classes; people, students and professors alike, gave him weird looks and treated him condescendingly. Despite having proof of his intelligence, they still wanted to treat him like a retard and a child. It was irritating to say the least. That is why it was all the more pleasurable to point out his professors’ mistakes in their calculations, especially when he correctly calculated something complicated in a matter of seconds, before the professor even managed to put the mathematical operation into the calculator.

In the first month of classes, someone tried to kidnap him. Well … several individuals at once to be exact. In broad daylight. However, before they managed to grab him and stuff him in a car, he knocked them out in seconds, tied them with the rope they intended to tie him up and called the police.

When the police arrived at the scene of the crime, they were surprised to see that a seven-year-old child incapacitated a group of adult, burly men.

“Would you be so kind and explain what happened?” asked the police officer.

“They wanted to kidnap me, I resisted,” deadpanned Hadrian.

“And where are your parents?”

“At work.”

“Do you by any chance know your parents’ phone numbers so we can call one of them and let them know of the situation?”

He called his father with his phone and passed the device to the police officer, who explained everything to James. To say James was shocked would be an understatement. He almost suffered a heart attack when, instead of his son’s voice, he heard the voice of a police officer and learnt some bastards attempted to kidnap him. For a second, he thought the police might have found out about his mafia business.

After that incident, James made sure a group of bodyguards always accompanied Hadrian to school and back. As he said, better safe than sorry. Hadrian wasn’t really sure why he had to have a group of bodyguards following him when he was perfectly capable of whooping anyone’s ass, but he also didn’t mind it, because he knew his father only did it because he cared about his safety and it always warmed his insides when his parents did extreme things for him. Yes, even his tame and sweet mother could transform into a nasty dragon if her baby was in any kind of danger.

In addition to bodyguards, James had Hadrian start learning how to shoot. They met a few weekends in their target practice arena at home, where James showed him how to load an airgun with pellets and how to aim.

While it looked simple from an observer’s perspective, it was difficult to be accurate when you weren’t used to the recoil of the weapon. It took him several rounds to get used to the force, so his hand didn’t move much once the pellet left the barrel.

While target practice at home was all right, James introduced him to paintball.

“I used to play it whenever I had free time to relieve some stress from studying,” he told him. “It’s also a good way to train by having mock gang skirmishes. Paintball, while not deadly, can teach you a lot about strategy and different tactics that you can use in a real life-or-death situation.”

Soon, Hadrian found himself enjoying the thrill and the adrenaline paintball provided. He managed to convince his friend Hermione to join him. After drifting apart due to Hadrian’s academic success and Hermione’s envy over it, he felt like they needed something in common where they both could work together and progress at a similar rate.

By the time Hermione was eleven and Hadrian ten, they were both hooked on the survival aspect of paintball and regularly competed in tournaments as a team, where they swept with the competition with ease almost every time. They were a force of nature and they called themselves ‘Lords of Despair’.

As for Hadrian’s academic career, he managed to take and ace his A-levels at nine, then managed to get a place at Cambridge University, where he started studying Engineering and if everything went according to plan, he planned to be like his father and graduate with a PhD, or at least a Master's Degree, by the time he turned 21.

Unfortunately, as he finished his first year of his Bachelor studies, a strange letter addressed to Harry Potter threatened to ruin everything.