"I think you've misunderstood me," Said Rigel Black.
Riddle stepped closer, enough for her to see the confidence wasn't faked, "Your actions belie you. When I tally the extent of your grandest deeds, the theme is clear; you do for others before you do for yourself. Even the one instance that you asked something of me was on behalf of others. That is your weakness. You do not let opportunities to help others pass you by. Now you have the biggest opportunity you may ever encounter. This time, if I'm right, you won't be able to say no."
She wasn't sure what to think as silence stretched between them. He was bribing her with… charity? This had to be the strangest negotiation ever enacted. Her first instinct was to scoff. The second instinct, on the heels of the first, gave her pause, though. She thought, really thought about the suggestion for a moment. Anything. She could ask anything.
A whirlwind of possibilities crowded her mind. She hated that she was tempted. Hated the way Riddle's smile grew the longer she stood without answering. She had to think faster. This chance—if, indeed, she could view it as an opportunity as he suggested instead of an imposition—could not be wasted. If only she had more time.
It seemed like Fate was breathing down her neck as she tried to make the most of what little she did have.
What would help the most people?
A selfish idea rose to the surface of her mind: I could ask him to open Hogwarts to non-purebloods.
The idea caught at her throat. There was no way he would agree to that. Yet, was that not how good negotiations began? With a demand so outrageous that compromise ensued?
She was just about to say it when something in her told her to stop and reconsider.
She frowned and reevaluated the facts once more. Riddle wanted her to play his little game, be his obedient pawn in the tournament to come. He was willing to give her presumably anything for it.
But why?
Riddle was no fool; for all that she hated him, she had to acknowledge as much— he wouldn't command the power he did if he was.
And that meant that he felt there was more to gain with her participation than anything she could ask for.
Just to test the waters, she said, "If I agree to the tournament, Hogwarts admits muggle borns and half bloods again."
"Out of the question," Riddle hissed. His eyes flashed in cold fury.
So she was right. He was weighing the proper pros and cons before granting her the boon. And she was sure he would only relent for something he knew he could easily sweep aside the harmful effects of anyway.
"You said I could ask for anything," she said, making a show of working to keep her voice even.
"Anything else," he growled down at her.
And Rigel decided.
"No."
She wouldnever play his stupid games again.
Riddle frowned in incomprehension, "...No?"
"You said that before. I no longer believe you." Rigel said calmly, "If you are to agree to any other boon at this stage, I now know it will inevitably be one that favours you."
Riddle's scowl could have curdled milk, "Stop with this foolishness, boy. My patience is not endless—"
"Well, it is a good thing it will be tested no longer then," Rigel cut in firmly, "I decline your offer, Lord Riddle, and I will not be changing my mind."
The selection is tomorrow, she thought, whatever he has to say to that, it must be done today.
Riddle sneered at her, "You will be the pureblood champion, Rigel. It is only a matter of what it will take for you to capitulate. I have so far used milder threats and even been generous with offers, but it seems you leave me no other choice."
Rigel's wand was in her hand in a second, magic ready with righteous indignation.
That's the last thing on his blackmail & bribe list, she thought with eerie calm, physical threat.
Riddle seemed briefly amused at her reaction. He flicked his hand and Rigel felt powerful wards activate around the room.
"Severus does have useful wards in place," He said mildly, "Anchored to Hogwarts, they are. A touch of my magic in the mix, and no one is coming for you down here, Rigel."
"It's a good thing I don't need them to," Rigel said, mentally cataloguing all the potentially dangerous ingredients in the room.
Rule one: Keep the Enemy talking.
"So, finally had enough of your plans being thwarted by a little boy?" Rigel said casually, "What are you going to start with, the Imperius? Or are we moving straight to torture?"
"You've got the order wrong," Riddle said, just as conversationally, "Villains always start with torture first, Rigel. I do wish you to be performing in the tournament under your own power, after all. An Imperius, besides being a danger should it be discovered in the competition, takes the fun out of it, I admit."
Rigel laughed at the audacity of the man. Was this who had been hidden under the mask all along?
Is this really happening? Some part of her whispered, recoiling in front of the idea of facing searing pain once more.
The rest of her was just grim. She'd faced down a rock that could subjugate sentience and steal magic.
Riddle, quite frankly, paled in comparison.
The man regarded her coolly, "It didn't have to come to this. It still doesn't."
Rigel smiled, "Yeah, if only your big head could handle being taken down a peg."
Riddle said nothing, and instead a flaming yellow light shot out from his wand and towards her.
Rigel dodged and pulled out her knife from the inside of her boot.
Riddle actually smirked at her.
"Freedueling, Rigel? Tch. I'd have thought better of you."
Rigel evaded another curse of his and quietly cast an overpowered Flipendo right at the floor where he stood.
It crunched, and the man stumbled—
She shot off three powerful stunners in a row followed by some frankly harmless but obscure jinxes she'd learnt, and the man shielded easily, but Rigel had been counting on just that.
The minute his layered shield flickered into existence, she cast a lightning jaw. Only this time, she didn't care for the shield caster's wellbeing at all.
Riddle was pressed against his own sparking shields and she was about to press advantage when—
"Enough."
The man slashed his wand seemingly like a sword and the destructive shield gave way.
"While this has been amusing—"
Rigel threw over-imbued chimaera eyes at the flickering remnants of his shield, and shielded herself.
The explosion shook the entire room. Just as she was turning—
"This grows tiresome. Crucio."
And before she could react, she was writhing on the floor.
Why…? some part of her cried, why is no amount of training ever enough for what she had to face the next year?
Everything was on fire, and Rigel thought sadly that having experienced something like this before didn't make it hurt less. It just… enabled her to retain her mind through it.
Riddle was watching her with dark amusement and a modicum of surprise.
"You can ask for it to end, you know." He said idly.
Rigel actually managed to scoff through the pain, doubly glad she had her mind right. She would not give a word of complaint or begging. She was—
screaming and whimpering in an underground prison
—done begging.
Her vision grew blurry.
Riddle was watching her with a sort of dissatisfaction, now.
Something was cutting through the haze, something Dom was trying to tell her—
You need to get
Her mind wasn't able to grasp it.
You need to get out of here
She barely suppressed a scream as the pain seemed to spike at her concentration.
It's been several seconds. Any more and you risk permanent damage.
She shot Riddle an incredulous look, only to be taken aback.
She couldn't have believed he'd actually risk something like this seconds ago, but now…
The man looked utterly deranged in his anger.
And Rigel was made acutely aware that this was the same man who had once been Voldemort.
Rigel remembered the man's anger towards Riddle Jr. when she'd shown him the chamber memories. She remembered, and somehow, she found it in her to laugh. It sounded more choked than free, and everything hurt ten times more, but she laughed at Riddle.
"You…" she whispered, eyes glinting with something akin to madness, "You're no better than your construct! Teehee!"
Some unfathomable emotion registered in his expression, and he released the curse.
Rigel lay panting on the floor, eyes half-lidded. She was still aching, burning all over, but she thought she would be okay. She had survived the resonance— and that was something that no other pain could hold a candle to. The Cruciatus had been more like Pettigrew's attempts to take her magic with the suppressor on.
"Had enough?" Riddle said softly. Dangerously. He seemed livid that she'd tried to put up a strong front in the face of it all. "I can do this all day."
"The… Hogwarts… wards," Rigel panted, "They'll c-catch—"
"The Hogwarts Wards can't detect the Cruciatus or Imperius," Riddle said, smiling coldly, "Both of them, despite being powerful spells, register very low on the magic radar, as I'm sure you know. You did after all study Magic Theory with your little… device last year."
She did, at that.
God, but her body throbbed.
"Come now, Rigel," Riddle said in a tone of apparent reasonableness, "You do now you're going to be compelled somehow. Do you really want to suffer as much as possible before eventually acquiescing regardless?"
Rigel managed to pull herself up standing with the help of a stool and raised her chin up at him. She could feel her magic pumping her muscles, making the movement easier, and could feel Dom trying to repair the damage the curse had done to her head. She could feel her disgust for the man, and for once she never bothered hiding it.
"Your tricks are petty and pathetic." Rigel said, eyelids still drooping ever so slightly, "You couldn't bribe me, blackmail me, or convince me to go your way, so you lashed out like a little child with toys too big to handle and cast an Unforgivable on me? So. Very. Pathetic."
Riddle's face darkened, "It seems you have very little self-preservation."
"Perhaps so," Rigel managed through the pain in her throat, "But I certainly have more grit and will than you. And as I said, you'll never get me to participate. You lose, Riddle. Now go, continue being the tantrum-throwing child you are. I can do this all day, too."
"You know," She cocked her head mockingly, "because of your other failed plan last year?"
She saw the next curse coming, and ducked, but her aching muscles were too slow, and it was aimed for her legs besides. They buckled, and Rigel fell to the ground once more.
She knew it was a moot point to try and dodge now. Now that his wand was trained on her once more, he could shoot spells at her faster than she could avoid them.
At least this way my pain-tolerance will get some practice, Rigel said almost hysterically to herself, and just embraced it all.
Sometime before she blacked out, she promised herself that she would train so hard that it would be Riddle next time, begging for mercy.
And she never gave him the satisfaction in turn.
***
When she opened her eyes, it was to Severus Snape's outraged ones.
Where am I?
Hospital wing, Dom supplied.
She wondered how he could possibly know that when she herself didn't, before she realised with a start that she couldn't feel the mattress she was lying on.
She heaved for air in her panic, and Snape put his hand on her forehead almost immediately before shouting for Madam Pomfrey.
"It's all going to be fine, Rigel," He told her, a calm tone belying the rage carved in his every feature.
"M-my— I c-can't feel my—" Rigel stuttered out, her vision swimming in dread.
"That is due to a powerful numbing spell," Snape said, momentarily relieved that it wasn't something else that had been troubling her, "Do not worry."
She forced herself to take deep breaths again.
Madam Pomfrey came into view, her face a mix of horror and sadness.
"Rigel… please , will you—" She choked, "will you just let me cast the appropriate diagnostic charm to figure out what exactly has affected you?"
Rigel closed her eyes for a second, frustration mixing with the light-headedness of the numbing and overpowering her. Any such charm would be far too detailed, and would most certainly reveal her gender, "N-no, Madam Pomfrey. I'm sorry. You have a bl-blanket permission for any I allowed you to cast in the third-year… aftermath."
Snape's hand on her head shivered while Pomfrey ran to her room to bring some charts.
"I am so sorry, Mr. Bla—Rigel," he looked an absolute wreck, "I should have never left you alone with him—"
Seeing his haggard bearing, and haunted, tired eyes, she wondered how long she'd been here. Any curdling frustration at her Head of House seemed to melt away.
"Di-did you know what he was going to d-do?" Rigel managed.
"Never."
"Then s-stop wallowing in r-regret." She couldn't talk any longer without severely hurting her throat. Rigel closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sensation of Snape's hand against her forehead rather than the distracting pain buzzing through her body.
Somewhere in her heart, surrounded by heaving sadness and frustration, was something molten.
It burned, but strangely soothed the other flames the Enemy had inflicted on her.
She hadn't played his games, hadn't bent to his terms.
She won.