"You don't understand, Sirius," Regulus said with frustration, "Your son is the Heir to House Black. He must now the traditional way, the culture and customs of wizarding society—"
Sirius only raised his eyebrows, "It is not a must, Regulus. Archie can live the way he wishes. And what society are you referring to anyway? Purebloods, who would look down on people like Lily and Harry?"
Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose to calm himself, "No, Sirius. You are mistaken. I do not intend to turn your son against your own, as it were. I know you wouldn't stand for it. But it is my opinion that there will surely come a time when Arcturus Rigel Black will have to traverse those circles, if only to prove a point of the Light, and he must do so with dignity and knowledge at his disposal."
Sirius' lips twitched, "You do know how to make a pitch, brother."
Regulus gave a wry smile, "Arcturus will learn it as well."
Sirius inclined his head, "Tell you what, you can come here every Saturday to teach Archie your pick of etiquette and history and whatever."
Regulus relaxed, "Thank you, Siri—"
"But," Sirius' eyes hardened a little, and for a moment he truly looked the head Regulus wished he was, "you say nothing even vaguely supporting pureblood bigotry. Disparage pureblood supremacy all you want, but not. A single. Word. Against half bloods or muggle borns or werewolves or creatures."
Regulus's eyes hardened in turn, "And if I do?"
Sirius just smiled sadly, "lessons over. And I'll make sure to tell Archie his uncle is a bigoted twit."
Regulus gave an involuntary jerk, though he didn't know at which part of Sirius' statement.
"Alright, Sirius," He said, "Alright."
***
"Harry! Psst!" Archie called to her urgently, "C'mere!"
"What happened?" Harry said, startling green eyes blinking like an owl.
"I need help!" Archie said melodramatically.
Harry raised her eyebrows, "Go on."
"My uncle Regulus wants me to sit with him today for etiquette classes or something," Archie said, "And I really don't wanna. I wanted to fly all day today on our new broom."
Harry could see where this was going, "I don't know if I can convince Uncle Sirius to put this off, Archie," she said uneasily, "And it would be rude to trouble your Uncle. He just wants to teach you, after all. Learning is never a bad thing."
Archie blinked, "Why don't you just attend in my place?"
Harry frowned, but considered the idea. She'd get to learn something new, at least.
"Would your Uncle be okay teaching me instead of you?" She asked curiously.
"Probably not," Archie grimaced, "He wants to teach me because I'm the Black Heir, I think. Maybe you could just pretend to be me? We look pretty alike."
"I don't know, Archie…"
"Please Harry? Consider it like a secret we share. I'll do whatever I can to hide that you brew potions that Aunt Lily would have a right scare if she knew, and you take my place in boring lessons about stuffy old historians." She could tell he really didn't want this, though why she couldn't fathom. Well, Harry wasn't about to turn down a chance to better hide her activities from her parents. There had been way too many close calls recently.
Plus, she was curious about something she'd never learnt before, though she doubted it could be as good as potions. Nothing was better than potions.
"Alright Archie," she said, "Alright."
***
"So, how are we going to trade places again?" He asked her curiously.
Harry sighed, "Figures you didn't think that out."
"Hey!" Archie said in mock defensiveness, "You're the clever one."
Harry rolled her eyes, "Sure. Does your Uncle know what you look like?"
Archie thought for a moment, "He's seen me once or twice… when I was a toddler."
"Well, that's alright," she said carefully, "He probably won't remember how you look too well. I can buy a pair of contacts from my chore money—"
"—my chore money," Archie insisted.
Harry smiled gratefully, "—and then just… take your place, I guess. I'll probably have to pitch my voice lower, but that's it."
Archie nodded thoughtfully, "Yeah."
Suddenly Harry's eyes brightened, "Wait. Maybe I don't even need to—"
She shut her eyes and called to her magic warmly.
Please, help me, she thought.
When she opened her eyes, they were the grey of House Black.
Archie did a double take, "How did you do that?"
"I didn't. My magic did," Harry smiled widely, more than a little pleased.
Archie just shook his head.
"Can you do that with your voice, too?" He asked her curiously.
Harry closed her eyes in concentration again, before opening them cautiously.
"Say something," Archie said with a grin.
"Say something," She mimicked, then laughed.
I love you, she told her magic. It purred in response.
"This is going to work," She said in Archie's voice.
"It so is, Harry," Archie said with a gleeful smile.
She looked at him mischievously, "How do you like dresses, Archie?"
***
Regulus found himself outlining his first class with some satisfaction. Whatever Sirius' restrictions, at least he would get to play his part in the growth of the Black Heir, and mould him into a responsible one.
It was a tough task, given Sirius' carefree attitude about everything, but House Black could not afford another hesitant Head, and so Regulus would see to it that Arcturus was what they needed. Somehow.
He arrived from the floo at twelve noon sharp, and gave Sirius a nod in greeting. The other man just smiled in his usual affectionate way, calling, "Reggie! You made it in time!"
Regulus suppressed a grimace at the nickname. It seemed Sirius had forgotten the charged atmosphere of yesterday. Regulus hadn't, but then again it hadn't bothered him much either. He was used to the sparks that flew when the two of them were in the same room. Perhaps Sirius, too, had just become immune.
"Where is Arcturus?" He asked.
Sirius grinned, "You've got to stop calling him that, or he'll run away before introductions can even be completed."
Dear Merlin.
"Dad?" The boy stepped into the room with a relaxed grin, though Regulus thought it was strangely affected, "What's this I hear about running away?"
Sirius ruffled the boy's hair, "Just telling this posh old man to not call you Arcturus."
The boy's nose wrinkled in distaste, "I was going to say something to the effect that 'Blacks don't run', but I think I really might."
Sirius laughed, and the boy looked satisfied.
Regulus cleared his throat delicately.
"Uncle Regulus," The boy smiled at him, though it was more guarded, "It is good to meet you again. I hope you've been doing well."
"So polite," Regulus murmured, assessing the boy, "Are you sure he's your son, Sirius?"
Sirius bristled, but relaxed after a moment, “Always forget how… unidentifiable your humour is, Reggie.”
Again the nickname. Oh well, Regulus supposed he deserved it.
"Unfortunately I can never forget how… unnecessary your social mannerisms are,” Regulus sighed, “Are you here merely to provoke people, or did you actually want to do the introductions?"
Sirius just shook his head, still smiling, and led them to a serviceable room.
"I'll see you soon, Arch," he said, trying to ruffle the boy's hair again, but the child ducked to escape.
"Bye, Dad. Try not to miss me too much. It'll give you more grey hairs than you already have."
Sirius spluttered, "Grey hairs? I'll give you grey hairs! C'mere—"
"Sirius," Regulus cut in impatiently.
"Right," Sirius muttered, "Bye then, Arch."
He waved jauntily before leaving.
Honestly, you'd think he was sending him to boarding school, Regulus thought, suppressing an eye roll.
He wondered how Sirius would bear sending him to Hogwarts.
The boy and Regulus quietly assessed each other for a moment. Regulus noticed the boy had more delicate pureblood features than sharper ones.
When it seemed the boy was waiting for him to sit first, Regulus strode in and took a seat on one of the comfortable chairs set out. The boy followed suit.
Surprisingly polite, he thought.
Perhaps something could be scavenged from this yet.
"Your father has briefed you on the purpose of these classes, I take it?"
The boy nodded thoughtfully, "I believe it is to give me knowledge to do well as the Black Heir?"
"Indeed. First of which will be tolerance towards your given name," Regulus said sharply, "'Archie' is far too informal for most social figures to call you without a certain degree of familiarity."
The boy's lips curled in amusement, "Arcturus is a bit too much, though."
Regulus brushed down the affront in defence of his own middle name. It was true, after all. Speaking of middle names…
"What about Rigel?" He asked quietly.
The boy perked up, feeling the taste of the word in his mouth, "...Rigel. I like it."
"That's settled, then."
"Can you teach me how to do that?" The boy shifted awkwardly.
Regulus frowned. "Do what?"
"Speak all… fancy and stuff,"
He sighed, "Of course."
"A lot of it will come as you grow and are exposed to richer vocabulary," he explained, "The heart of it, though, is less to sound… fancy, and more to articulate the point of matter very clearly."
The boy considered this, "What does 'articulate' mean?"
This was going to take a while. Regulus discovered that he didn't mind. Arcturus— no, Rigel Black, was showing more interest than he had expected, and he thought he just might be able to enjoy these lessons, too.
The boy was not as animated as he had predicted— he had expected him to be a Sirius Jr. who would give him a nightmare in getting to buckledown. Instead he found only pleasurable company. Sure, the boy did crack jokes from time to time, but it was a more quiet humour that he brought to light, more nested in what subtleties passed for in a child than outright cracks at another's or one's own expense.
Regulus found himself looking forward to the next lesson.
***
'Rigel' slipped out after Regulus Black, and the minute she heard the roaring of the floo, asked her magic to change back her eyes and voice.
She tiptoed her way to Archie's room, sure the boy had come back from his flying session by now.
She knocked.
"Psst, Archie, it's me!"
The door creaked open slowly, and Archie's face peeked from the side. A second of registering her, and then he opened it widely with a grin.
"Had fun, cousin?"
Harry stepped in and let the door close behind her. "Yes, I did. You really should have gone, Arch. Your Uncle teaches well, and he just wants the best for you."
Archie shook his head, "I'm sure he does. Are you not happy with the deal though?"
She was. She really was. She'd get to learn under Regulus and also get Archie's help in hiding the potions she brewed from Mum and Dad.
"I am."
"I think, Harry," Archie's grin could shake the earth, "we might have beat our parent's mischief at this age."
"You think?" Harry felt herself smiling as well.
"I know. So what stuff did you learn?"
Harry sniffed delicately in imitation of Regulus, "Things your juvenile mind can only dream of, Arcturus Rigel Black."
They both burst into laughter.
"Oh, I am glad I didn't go."
"More seriously though, we talked about modern wizarding history!"
"My point stands."
"I'm starting to think you don't need your Uncle's 'fancy talk' lessons."
"Hey, dad says that often!"
"Sure he does. Birds of a feather flock together."
Archie gaped mockly, "Are you sure that was just one lesson?"
***
Sirius smiled a bit and quietly walked away from the room. He knew a lot of things; and one of them was when to keep his mouth shut to let some of the greatest pranks in history get on. They were kids, after all! They could get away with anything, and this was just harmless fun. Reggie couldn't bring this up, if he ever found out, because Sirius could forbid him as his Head of House.
Easy-peasy.
***
It was the day of their sixth lesson that it came crashing down.
It started off well enough.
"Rigel," Regulus greeted.
"Uncle Regulus," Rigel smiled, fidgeting with the clasp of her satchel, "I did the homework you assigned."
"Already?" His eyebrows rose, "I seem to recall telling you that you had two weeks for it."
Rigel blushed, "I-er, it just seemed like an interesting topic."
Regulus looked at her for a moment, before nodding and taking the paper she was holding out to him.
"I'll check it and get back to you."
"Thank you, Uncle."
Another strange look, "You're welcome."
"What are we learning today?"
Regulus suppressed a smile at her eager expression, and Rigel tried to tone it down, "What forms of magic interest you? For that matter, do you know their names?"
Rigel nodded, abandoning all attempts to try and keep the stupid grin off her face, "Potions."
Regulus' eyebrows rose, "Truly? That is a rather difficult branch of magic. I suppose I should not be surprised though, given it is one of the few that can be performed without a wand."
Rigel didn't know why she felt the need to clarify, she really didn't, but—
"No, it's not that I just like it because it's one of the few things I can do without a wand. I really enjoy potions-making. I want to be a potioneer when I grow up."
For a second she thought she might have pushed it too far, and she avoided his gaze. Any moment now, Regulus would look at her in disappointment, tell her that that was a silly, wrong thing to be— and she couldn't—
"Rigel?" Regulus' tone was odd, "What happened?"
"Wh—what do you mean?" Rigel asked in confusion. Was this his angry face? But no, he didn't look angry, merely troubled.
James looked troubled too sometimes, though, so she didn't dare hope.
"Why are you so…" Regulus groped for the right word, and Rigel realised with a detached sense of fascination that she had never seen him do that before, "timid today?"
Rigel blinked, "Timid means frightened, right? I'm not… really…"
"You are not?" Regulus' gaze was sceptical, "Then why are you not looking me in the eye? Forget that, you are not even raising your gaze from the ground."
Rigel said nothing.
"Look up," Regulus said sharply, "I will not have you being so uncertain of yourself."
She did, pushed by some magnetic force in his voice.
"Now," Regulus said, voice softening a little, "What caused you to react this way?"
"You— you're not angry? Upset, I mean?" Rigel blurted. That was the natural thing, right?
Regulus blew a frustrated breath, "Why would I be upset?"
"You are upset," Rigel said, words dropping like stones in her stomach.
"That's not— not because of whatever you're thinking. Why should I be upset?"
She looked around in uncertainty again, trying to avoid his sharp gaze, "Because I like potions."
A silence.
"...What?" Regulus's voice was definitely odd, "Why would I be upset about that?"
"Because… because that's something only soulless and wretched people do," Rigel did not look up from her feet.
Regulus inhaled sharply.
"Oh, I see…" He growled to himself, "Sirius…. we are going to have words."
He knelt down to reach eye-level with her.
"Wherever you've heard that, it's wrong."
Rigel still did not look up.
"It's wrong, you understand boy?" She could feel the weight of his eyes urging her to meet his gaze.
She didn't.
Her first stirring rod…
"Look up," his voice wasn't commanding, but something made her listen all the same, "look up, child."
"Why?" Rigel said the word before she could stop herself.
"Why what?" Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose, "Why am I asking you to look up or why what you have been told is wrong?"
"The second one. Both."
A smile tugged at his lips before vanishing, "I am asking you to look up because there is no reason for you to be ashamed or scared— which leads onto the answer for the latter: your father, indeed the entire band of marauders have had… unpleasant interactions with potioneers. It is their fault, not yours, that they used it as an excuse to brand the entire field and its workers as whatever you have been told. Regardless of whether or not you want to become a potioneer— because really, you are very young and you might find others things you enjoy as much —you should know this. Sirius or Potter's or Lupin's words aren't always the truth. They are people, and they can be wrong about some things too. You don't need to change yourself for it."
Rigel had squeezed her eyes shut.
Regulus didn't know what to do. Why did the boy have such a strong reaction to this?
He tugged him into a seat.
"What happened?" He repeated, "Did your father say something untoward today?"
Rigel shook his head, "No… it was yesterday. Harry's stirring rod. Uncle James used it as a fire-poker and it— he melted it."
Relaxing minutely at the thought that nothing direct had happened to the boy, Regulus frowned. Was the Potter Heiress also into potions? Perhaps the children had bonded over the interest.
He'd have to test the boy once. If he proved to be exceptional, maybe Regulus could even put him in contact with Severus.
If that route turned out any better. As much as the marauders must hate potioneers and one Severus Snape, Regulus was sure it was sneeringly reciprocated.
Still, that was no excuse to make such a bright boy— nay, any boy —feel so unsupported. And he was sure that if the marauders could have had any child who Severus could bear or even come to grow fond of, it was Rigel.
He would have to have a serious discussion with Sirius.
"I'm sure that would have been troubling," Regulus said finally, "But trust me, there is nothing wrong with enjoying what you love— especially if it's academic." He added that last part partly to see the boy smile, in which he succeeded, and partly to give him something more general to hold on to in case another academic interest cropped up that a rowdy group of pranksters couldn't understand.
"Thank you, Uncle Regulus."
"You're welcome. Tell me, what do you think of going to the Black Family lab for some brewing?"
The way the boy's eyes lit up could put the stars to shame, he thought. He would forever cherish it.
"Thank… you…" at Regulus's raised eyebrows, the boy cleared his throat, "I mean, I'd love to. Let's go!"
The task took a while because it seemed Sirius had just… left the lab as it was since moving into Grimmauld place. The boy's face had dropped and told him that it was alright, that they could leave— and Regulus had stopped him right there. He thought the boy might have been brewing with the Potter girl at their place all this time, which he supposed made this a loss of rather valuable teaching time.
Still, seeing the boy smile as he bottled a startlingly perfect Antidote To Common Poisons at the age of six (a tricky brew for most first-years at Hogwarts) in the now shining, good as new lab— with all the protections Regulus could erect until he was satisfied, Regulus thought he could be forgiven for detracting from the theoretical lesson he had planned. They should have a functional potions lab in the Black Family Home, anyway.
Some things were worth wrecking plans for. And Rigel Black had become one of them.
***
"Sirius," Regulus said quietly, "we need to talk."
"What, you're still here?" The surprise was evident. It had taken several hours to set the lab up with adequate protections, other than the time it took to make it fit for use and let Rigel brew the potion in peace. It was certainly long past his time for departure.
"Yes. A few things… came up. It is related to what I wanted to discuss with you."
Sirius must have noticed his grim expression, because instead of cracking any unwelcome jokes he simply patted the space on the couch beside him. Regulus, however, took his place opposite. It was better to directly face the man while speaking. He had learned it was the best way to hold his attention.
"You need to stop hurting the boy, Sirius," It came out more bluntly than he had intended. He rushed to clarify at Sirius' darkening expression, "I mean emotionally. The boy is drawn to potions— just a conversation about the topic and I can see it —but he is unsure of his own capability and worth because of how you and your friends disparage the art and those who work in the field. He wasn't even meeting my gaze in fear that I would be somehow disappointed in him for enjoying the subject—Sirius?"
Sirius looked utterly disturbed.
"Yesterday's mess of Potter melting his daughter's stirring rod— childish and cruel enough to be contemptible— deeply troubled the boy."
The frown deepened.
"He is to be—" Regulus was cut off by Sirius rising.
Was this it, then? Had Sirius been unable to take the criticism of his friends and himself? Were the lessons drawing to an end?
"I'll… consider the things you said, Reggie," Sirius said, though his eyes had a faraway look in them that told Regulus he was barely paying attention to his own words. He was distracted.
"I need to go now, so I suppose I'll see you later."
Should he push it? Regulus mulled over it for a moment then decided the worst he could do was say no.
"Sirius? I'd like to increase the number of lessons I'll take per week. I'd discussed it with the boy earlier— he seemed quite happy with the idea."
Sirius nodded, still lost.
Regulus left, hoping he'd be welcome back.
***
"Uncle Regulus!" Rigel's smile reached all the way up to his eyes.
Regulus softened a bit, "Hello, young Heir. To what do I owe this excitement?"
"I-uh, I might have… brewedsomethingforyou," The boy rushed the words together in a sudden surge of nerves.
"Clearer," Regulus said, eyebrows raised.
The boy cleared his throat, "I… have something for you." Rigel brought in sight a vial he'd apparently been clutching behind his back.
Regulus didn't quite know what to say, so he relied on the most familiar fallback, "You needn't have."
The boy just shook his head, still smiling, "It's a Calming Draught."
Regulus was taken aback, "You've truly progressed to such difficult brews?" A Calming Draught wasn't a tough potion, per say, but for a six-year-old…
Rigel frowned, though there were two spots of colour high on his cheeks, "It's not really difficult. The only tricky bit is mashing the slugs properly. They keep coming together, y'know? Because of them being blue and yellow. They want to form green."
Regulus tried to make sense of that and failed. He supposed that was why he'd never gotten a damn Calming Draught perfect.
He would have to see if the boy could get in touch with Severus, although… the boy would be going to Hogwarts in a few years regardless. Perhaps that would be the better method. Severus did not appreciate forming connections at the recommendation of another, and with the boy being Sirius' son… Rigel would need to shine on his own.
Pity Regulus did not know of any other Potions Masters. He was not invested in the field, but he was invested in this child, and perhaps the former might come in handy.
***
Regulus frowned. The boy was late. Abysmally late. Had something come up? Surely Sirius would have thought to inform him?
No one had come to greet him this time, but that was not so unusual an occurrence to have him suspect anything off. Now, however…
He sat up from his arm chair and strode towards the door. He would check Sirius' room first, and ask him what was up.
He needn't have bothered, however, because the door opened to reveal the boy. Standing. Right. There.
His uncertain gaze jumped into one of surprise and muted shock and embarrassment.
"Yes?" Regulus said, voice perhaps a little more on edge than he'd expected.
"I-er. Nothing," Rigel's gaze lowered, "Can we- can we do this another time? Please, Uncle?"
The boy sounded exhausted.
"And you didn't think to let me know earlier because…?"
"I-I'm sorry, sir. I just couldn't…" Grey eyes refused to meet him.
"Where is your father?" Regulus said. Surely he knew what was going on.
Rigel blinked, "I don't know. Where he's usually around this time?"
Regulus sniffed, "In. Now."
"But Uncle- sir, I—"
"We are not having class, Rigel, so get in and take a seat."
The boy did so, all the while barely looking up from the ground.
"Look at me."
Begrudgingly, but surely, Rigel listened.
"What happened?" Regulus asked gently, "You look dead on your feet."
"Nothing." At his unimpressed stare, the boy conceded, "Well, something, but… I don't remember."
Regulus stiffened in his seat, something like rage curdling in his chest, "You… don't remember? Like a gap in your memory?"
"Kind of," The boy said, "I just… me and… Harry and Neville were playing together yesterday, and we went to the attic. We just wanted a bit of fun, that's all, but— but we can't remember anything after having that thought. Dad says they found me and Neville in some sort of sleep in the attic and Harry panicking."
Regulus forced himself to take measured breaths.
It was his childhood all over again.
The things in the Grimmauld attic— there were no limits to what the boy may have come in contact with. Dangerous things.
To hear that Rigel had been found unconscious with a significant loss in memory wasn't at all reassuring.
"How do you feel, now, when you think of it?" Regulus asked. It was important to know of any lingering effects, particularly on the boy's mind.
Rigel frowned, "Scared."
That was… not good, but perhaps not too out of bounds for a child.
"Scared how?"
"Of‐ of my magic," The boy's face grew a bit horrified, "I'm sorry, I should've— I shouldn't— I want to go."
Salazar help him. What was Regulus supposed to do with this? The boy felt afraid of his magic? What did that even mean? You could be afraid of using magic, or magic being used in general, but the wording… perhaps it was just a child's expression. He hoped it was.
He placed his hand on the boy's clenched fists, "Where do you wish to go?"
Five minutes later, and they were in the potions lab. Regulus was beginning to wish he hadn't asked, because it didn't even seem to be doing Rigel much good. He kept fidgeting nervously, and avoided answering anything but the simplest of questions.
The idea struck him when the boy shivered in the cold.
"Look," Regulus said, and cupped the boy's hand in his. A wordless warming charm later the boy looked up, and Regulus was gratified to see a strange wonder in his eyes.
A cooling charm, and the boy laughed.
"That-that's cold!" Rigel choked out.
Regulus responded by turning up the heat.
They stayed there for a while, just appreciating the other's presence and the dramatic localised shifts in temperature.
"Magic is wonderful," Regulus told him, "And most wonderful things can be taken as something to be afraid of, but that doesn't change what they are. Try to remember that."
The boy still looked unconvinced, but Regulus thought that with a week of this, he might be able to make a point.
"And now," He said, a smile playing about his lips, "don't you have a potion to finish?"
The way Rigel significantly lit up told Regulus that the past half-hour, at least, had brought back one thing: the boy's smile.
***
So, naturally, it was the next session when it all fell apart.
"Any questions?"
"Uncle Regulus, why are half bloods not allowed to go to Hogwarts?"
Regulus' lips pressed into a thin line, "Neither are muggleborns. It is part of an initiative to better education— for purebloods." The last bit was hastily added to make the sentence more neutral. It wouldn't do to cross the line Sirius had set.
"What? First of all, that is extremely unfair, and second of all, how would it even better the education purebloods receive?" Rigel protested.
"Halfbloods and muggleborns often aren't adept or even understanding of the basics of magic before schooling," Regulus explained, a little troubled by the boy's views, "so they tend to hold purebloods back while they catch up, especially the first few years. They are also not aware of wizarding culture, which makes them seem… rather uncivilised to some."
The words seemed to be like a physical slap to the boy, and Regulus flinched at his expression before it soothed so perfectly he doubted whether that bothered frown had been there seconds before.
I'm toeing the line, here.
"But… why?" The boy seemed to be at a loss for words, "If they had tutoring like you're tutoring me, then they would know! It's not a difference of capability, only opportunity. And as for not being used to magic, well, did the Hogwarts Curriculum change after they were banned?"
"...No," Regulus said, "Except for broom restrictions for first-years being lifted, it did not."
"Then that proves no one was being held back. At max the half bloods and muggleborns themselves might struggle a bit early on but it certainly didn't impact the curriculum in any way."
"You've got it wrong!" Regulus growled, feeling a bit like a cornered animal, "Halfbloods and muggleborns are naturally inferior, it shows in the mere way they have never risen to the top in Britain. Dumbledore himself, the Political leader of the Light side, is a pureblood. Lord Riddle is a pureblood. Minao Losiky, the first muggleborn Minister for Magic, threw Britain into jeopardy!"
He'd done it. Crossed the line. Lessons over.
Something about that made dread claw its way up his throat.
Not if Sirius doesn't find out.
Maybe he could mend this—
But Regulus had never seen the boy look so lost. He was staring at his hands, mouthing the words, "naturally inferior" to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut like he was about to cry, and Regulus tried to frantically take back his words before the boy raised a palm to ask for silence.
"Look." Rigel said, voice cracking, "look at me, Uncle."
Regulus was looking.
"You're wrong," Rigel sniffed, "You're wrong, okay? You have to be. I— because you said— You said I'm not… You said I would make a great Heir. You said I wasn't wretched or soulless or any of the things I might have heard. Y-you cared for me, I hope. So you're wrong now."
Regulus didn't know what to say. The boy wasn't making any sense, and he suspected that was probably because of the emotional mess he was right now.
"And I'm going to- to show you that," Rigel continued, before standing up on his feet a little unsteadily, "Then you'll- you'll have to admit you're wrong. You're going to take those words back."
"Rigel—" Regulus was cut off by his own sharp inhalation.
The boy's eyes had turned a luminous, ethereal green.
"I'm-I'm Harriet Potter," the boy- no, the girl said in a voice unlike the one he was used to hearing, "and you're wrong, sir."
Then she turned and fled, and Regulus was too shell-shocked to do anything but stare and pretend he didn't hear her whisper:
You have to be.
***
"I cannot believe you had the audacity to keep—" Regulus had never heard himself shriek this loud.
"I cannot believe you said such things to her!" Sirius spat, "You promised, Reg."
"Don't you dare look at me like you are any better," Regulus said, voice frothing with a roiling venom, "You promised me you'd let me teach the Black Family Heir, Sirius. That was the condition on which any further negotiations were made! Not— not… you know what?" He walked to the floo, "I'm done. Tell Arcturus whatever the hell you want. No one can say I didn't try."
***
"I'm-I'm Harriet Potter… and you're wrong, sir."
The words kept echoing in his head. The girl had switched with the real Arcturus right from the start, that was sure from his… talk with Sirius, and yet he had trouble wrapping his head around it.
Rigel, pureblood Heir of House Black; Harriet Potter, halfblood heiress— a girl, by Merlin, a halfblood girl —of House Potter. The two images in his head simply didn't mesh.
And yet.
Regulus considered idly if he was allowed a drop of Firewhiskey or two, before shaking his head sharply. He had long since quit the stuff, given its quite addictive and harmful nature. He would never lose himself in anything, even if it meant to bear the bitter truth and be braver than he felt. That was a line he chose to not cross.
Harriet Potter.
Regulus' mind seemed to draw to the name, and then stutter to a halt. She was everything and then she was nothing; she was his pseudo-child and then a lying criminal.
The damned girl and her words haunted his dreams.
***
He didn't contact them again, and to all appearances Regulus Black had moved on. No one even truly knew what had taken place in that last, important lesson. The lesson where instead of teaching something, he had come home learning. The words and their mark lay indelible, roosting in his wretched heart and making it hard to breathe when Lord Riddle said something particularly bigoted.
There wasn't much he could do other than clamp on his emotions with his Occlumency shields.
You did not leave Riddle's service after a commitment. Not unless you wished to be ruined, along with everyone you ever knew. But Regulus, for all that, was a Slytherin. So instead of Gryffindor-like defiance, he dealt in whispers. Whispers of a suggestion here, and an idea there, when Riddle was starting to formulate a dangerous plan. Whispers that don't, at first and second and third glance, seem to be traitorous, and Riddle never looked deeper than that, dismissing him as another proud pureblood ponce.
And when that didn't work, well, Regulus always had Severus. It was startling just how much the latter could influence Lord Riddle, and most often tried to, without any prompting from Regulus, do so when the waters demanded it. Regulus started to notice only because he did the same. And when the rare scenario presented itself where Regulus knew something Severus didn't, well, it was a simple matter to direct the information towards him in a covert manner.
And so, life moved on.
Until Harriet Potter came to wreck it again.
***
The Rosier Gala had promised to be dull as ever— and then he saw her, under that oh-so-familiar guise again.
And he was once again played for a fool.
“Oh, the Blacks are above Fate, didn’t you know?” Sirius was saying, surprised eyebrows raised at his Heir, “Don’t tell me you’ve been living your life without a sense of dramatic irony, just in case Fate takes it personally? Oh, dear, however have I gone wrong?”
And despite himself, Regulus wanted to know just how poor of an Heir he'd raised.
“Let me count the ways,” he drawled from behind them.
Sirius stiffened with the barest hint of unease before his features shifted into cheerful surprise. He turned and greeted him warmly, “Regulus! I’d ask what you were doing here, but, well, I do so hate to be obvious,” Sirius reached out to clasp him on the shoulder familiarly, and Regulus twitched slightly, but didn’t shirk away.
“I wish I could say the same, Sirius,” Regulus said, voice more weary than cold, “What are you doing here?”
This was a Dark Purebloods' Gala, for Merlin's sake.
Sirius drew himself up and raised an eyebrow, “I was invited.”
Before Regulus could do more than scowl, Sirius gestured toward the boy and said, “I’m not sure you remember my son, Regulus. It’s been… several years, and you only met briefly. This is Arcturus Rigel Black. Rigel, this is my younger brother, your uncle, Regulus Black.”
Something in his heart stuttered, two thoughts merging together in a mess.
You only met briefly… Well, that was one way to put it.
The other was much louder.
He's going by Rigel.
Regulus wasn't sure how he felt about that, or how he was even supposed to.
“It is good to meet you again, Uncle,” Rigel said without inflection, and Regulus suppressed a bitter twist of his lips. Did the boy know he mirrored the introduction of his cousin? “I trust you’ve been well since we last had the chance to converse?”
Perhaps the girl had taught him something as well.
Regulus tilted his head without a trace of irony, "So polite. Are you sure he’s your son, Brother?”
Sirius met his eyes with some frustration, "Yes."
You seemed quite sure the last time as well, Regulus didn't say. Instead he murmured, "What are you really doing here? You're sending mixed signals about your loyalty to the Light." He tried to convey the urgency of his tone as neutrally as possible, but he drew eyes from nearby families regardless.
Cursing himself internally, Regulus made his expression something sharp, “You finally had enough of playing the reformed sinner? Finally come home where you belong, Brother? Finally come back to be with people who understand you, even if only for one. Lonely. Night?”
Sirius’s face was darkening, but Regulus was only looking discreetly at the surrounding families who were now satisfied and would not say a word to Riddle.
“Is it okay?” Rigel stepped in, looking deliberately up at Regulus with an air of apologetic concern, “I mean, I know the whole Split thing is still in effect, but it’s technically a political event, isn’t it?” Both Regulus and Sirius turned slowly toward him, Sirius with worried eyes and Regulus with a distantly incredulous expression. “I’m really sorry if our being here is going to cause any problems, Uncle,” the boy went on with well-concealed disingenuity, “It’s just that I really wanted to see my friends over the break, and since I was on the invitation this year I begged Father to accept just once. If you want us to go, though, well, we could never say no to a family member’s request.”
Regulus Black looked from Sirius to Rigel, and back again, “Perhaps he is your son after all,” he said wryly.
Inside something in him clenched.
This could have been her.This was what I had dreamt for her.
Regulus shook his head slightly. This was never about Harriet Potter. Until it somehow was.
At that moment, the announcer tapped his staff against the marble floor just firmly enough to avoid being either timid or obnoxious, and announced them to the Hall as one.
Frustrated but unable to do anything about it, they began a slow, dignified descent down an unnecessarily long and steep staircase into the ballroom proper. Heads turned, people whispered, eyes widening at Sirius and Regulus, who were together as notoriously unclose as they were individually just plain notorious.
“Yet again, the universe lends itself to Sirius Black in a way so unbelievable that one can only assume you planned this entire thing,” Regulus murmured out of the corner of his mouth as they descended.
“You must admit that this has a certain poetic lining to it,” Sirius said, not seeming unnerved at all by all the people staring up at him, “Perhaps Fate is not done with the Blacks after all.”
“That’s what you get for naming your children after stars,” Rigel muttered, and Regulus thought with some surprise that the boy sounded very unpleased with being even close to the centre of attention, “That’s not even tempting Fate; it’s lobbing the lodestone of your existence straight into its inner courtyard.”
The corner of his mouth twitched and he sent him a sidelong glance of heavily veiled amusement. Sirius just grinned outright.
***
The boy seemed to have been well acquainted with the Rosiers, Malfoys and even Lord Riddle.
Regulus just closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and ignored the insanity around him.
That was, of course, until he saw the boy in a bathroom looking like he'd been crying.
“Hello again, Nephew.”
Rigel bowed slightly, “Uncle. I trust your evening has been pleasant?”
“Diverting, at least,” Regulus said noncommittally. He gazed at him for a moment, then decided to just ask, “Were you crying, boy?”
Rigel blinked, startled.
“No, Uncle,” the boy said, mouth tilting wryly, “I was unfortunate enough to come into contact with a substance of questionable sanitary value, and merely sought to remove it before danger of infection set in.”
“Pray tell, what sort of substance could you have possibly encountered at Rosier Mansion that would cause you hygienic apprehension?” Regulus asked with a lifted brow.
“Saliva,” Rigel said sardonically, “From the mouth of an unwashed Lestrange. Not that there’s anything wrong with Lestranges,” he added belatedly, “I’m sure not all of them are… well.”
Regulus felt cold anger wash over his visage. "And how, exactly, did Lestrange spit end up on the face of the Black Heir?”
Rigel backtracked quickly, “It does not matter, Uncle. I have taken care of it.”
“You?” Regulus sneered. By being as stiflingly polite he'd been conducting himself?
Rigel simply nodded, “Yes, me. We have settled our differences, and the only thing remaining was for me to prevent the onset of rabies. As you can see, that has been accomplished as well, so the matter is concluded to my satisfaction.”
“And to your father’s?” Regulus countered coldly. There was no way Sirius would stand for this.
“Sirius does not need to know of this incident,” Rigel said, just as coldly, “I do not like to trouble my father needlessly.”
He calls him Sirius?
“When the Family Heir allows himself to be spat upon,” Regulus hissed instead, “It is past time for the Family Head to be troubled.”
“I can only assume you think so low of me because you do not know me, Uncle,” Rigel said sharply, something almost… haunted flashing in his eyes, “But let me assure you that when I tell you I have handled something—it is handled.”
Regulus drew himself up and looked down at him with detached calculation, “So you may claim,” he said eventually, “But know that if I hear it whispered among my colleagues that the Black Heir is weak, I will not stand idly by. The House of Black cannot afford another weak Family Head, and if I think for a moment that you are… unfit for the responsibility, I will see to it that it is never yours to bear.”
“I await your judgement then, Uncle,” Rigel said, bowing once more, “Please excuse me.”
And the boy walked out.
Regulus wondered idly how the boy could have possibly turned out so similar to how he'd thought Potter would. Perhaps she really had taught him everything he had her.
***
Regulus saw him again at the Malfoy Garden Party.
"I was thinking valkyrie," Rigel was saying dryly in response to some frankly ridiculous assertion Sirius had made.
Sirius winced dramatically, "You're a better man than I, then."
"Surely that was never up for debate," Regulus broke in.
I really need a better way to integrate myself in conversations with Sirius, he thought with some dark amusement.
Then again, who cared?
Sirius summoned up a grin, "Reggie! How nice to…well, you're here."
Regulus ignored his older brother's antics, "What are you doing here, Sirius? This is a private event."
"Haven't you heard?" Sirius said innocently, clearly enjoying himself, "I'm Neutral now. I can go to all sorts of private events if I want. I may even come to your birthday party this year."
"I haven't had a birthday party since I came of age," Regulus said absently, still eyeing Sirius suspiciously.
"That explains so much," Sirius said sadly, "I'll invite you to mine next year, how's that? It'll be space-themed, just like when we were kids."
Regulus didn't relish the reminder of his childhood, and sent Sirius a long-suffering expression and said, "Are you really Neutral? Now there's no getting away from you, I suppose."
Sirius smiled almost fondly, "Admit it, you missed me."
"Like a toothache," Regulus drawled, eyes flicking to the boy, "Your Heir is looking well turned-out, at least."
"You look well also, Uncle," Rigel said, smiling politely, "Have you been here long?"
"I haven't made my rounds yet, if that's what you're angling," Regulus said, raising an eyebrow.
"My son doesn't angle," Sirius said stoutly, placing a hand on Rigel's shoulder, "If he wants to ask you something, he'll just ask it."
"I certainly hope that isn't the case," Regulus sighed, "Sirius, just because you've managed to live with your head in the sand doesn't mean your Heir won't need to learn politics eventually. You must begin preparing him now, or the family name will suffer for it later when he makes a fool out of himself."
Sirius' face flushed with anger, and Rigel hastily cut into the conversation, "Dad… and Harry have already taught me all I need to know, Uncle. Please, don't trouble yourself worrying over our good name."
Harry.
It seemed his suspicions were correct.
"They have, have they?" Regulus smirked, "Let's just see about that."
He led the boy into two different social groups, watching how he conducted himself. He didn't know what exactly he was looking for, but by the end of it he had found it. The boy knew to handle himself in all sorts of social situations.
Sirius silently raised an eyebrow in Regulus' direction.
Regulus looked down at Rigel, his face impassive, "He isn't a total loss, at least."
Rigel gave Regulus his best fake-smile, and was rewarded when his right eyelid twitched slightly. He let his smile melt into a more natural smirk, and said, "Never doubt a Black, Uncle."
"Couldn't have said it better myself!" Sirius crowed, clasping the boy's shoulder with true affection. His face took on a more serious cast as he said, "That was a bit cryptic, though. I don't recall you mentioning making nice with two Wizengamot elders. What's this 'impression' you gave them, Arch?"
Rigel hesitated, looking between Sirius and Regulus, both of whom stepped closer in response to his furtiveness, "It wasn't a big deal, really."
Regulus could see Rigel's expression slipping, "I did a favour for Mr. Ogden—not a political favour, I mean, it just sort of…happened."
"Spit it out, boy," Regulus snapped.
Rigel blurted, "They kind of owemealifedebt."
Sirius blinked, "What?"
"I'm sorry," Rigel said, frowning apologetically, "I know you told me not to make friends with any politicians, and I wasn't, but—there was poison—and—"
"Two elders of the Wizengamot owe you a life debt?" Regulus didn't know whether to laugh or to growl, "How on earth did such a thing come to be?"
Rigel sighed, and spilled the whole story, from noticing the Nimue's Breath to Madam Marchbanks' insistence that she take full share in the debt.
Regulus had frozen.
"It's not a big deal, though," Rigel assured them, "I tried to talk them out of it—"
"You did what?" Regulus bit out, ignoring the insanity of the boy knowing potions so well for a moment.
"—but they were insistent!"
Sirius shook his head wonderingly, "First the Malfoys, now a couple of Wizengamot representatives…these life debts are getting out of hand, don't you think?" It was a weak joke, and no one laughed.
Regulus inhaled sharply, "The Malfoys owe such a debt to you as well?"
Rigel nodded cautiously, "I saved their son from the sleeping sickness."
Regulus nodded slowly, remembering something he'd heard but not really paid attention to before. "Well," he said, gathering himself, "Well. It seems your son does know something about politics, Sirius. Though it will be a wonder if there's anything left of politics when he's finished," he added under his breath.
"That's my boy," Sirius said, though his smile was a bit forced, "I'm going to get a drink. Ar—I mean, Rigel, will you be alright if I—"
"I'll go find my friends," Rigel said quickly, "Catch you later, Dad. It was nice to see you again, Uncle."
Regulus nodded to both of them, and all three went their separate ways, the other two to escape, and Regulus with way too much to think about.
And when Rigel gave Draco a Potentialis Potion as his birthday gift, Regulus barely suppressed a coughing fit.
Mr. Malfoy drew their attention and said, "The House of Black has been generous and thoughtful in its gifting today. Draco is fortunate in his friendship with your Heir."
"It is the House of Black that benefits from Malfoy hospitality," Regulus returned smoothly.
"And I am the fortunate one in my friendship to Draco," Rigel added, and it was obvious the boy meant every word. Regulus looked at him sideways with some bitterness. How could the boy believe so when the Malfoys passed legislation that considered his cousin not human? Salazar, the boy didn't even know Regulus conspired to upset those legislations, and still showed him respect.
Regulus really didn't know what to think.
Narcissa seemed to be about to say something, but she caught sight of someone headed their way and smiled welcomingly instead, "Severus, there you are. We thought you weren't gracing us with your presence today."
Snape strode to Lucius' side, pulling out a small package and handing it to Narcissa as he did so, "Even I am not so remiss a godparent as to neglect my charge's birthday, Narcissa."
Narcissa received the gift gracefully, "I was rather expecting an owl, in fact."
Regulus and Lucius let out low chuckles at Snape's expense, but the Potions Master didn't seem ruffled by the gentle teasing, "An owl couldn't do it justice."
"Oh?" Lucius looked intrigued, "What have you made my son, Severus?"
Snape merely smirked, "Have him open it in private."
Narcissa went to store it, while Sirius made some hasty excuses and left immediately.
"Mr. Black," Snape acknowledged Rigel, "I trust your summer has been uneventful."
Regulus wondered at the unusual word choice and the almost… soft way Severus looked at the boy.
Merlin n—
"Productive as usual, Professor Snape," Rigel said evenly.
"Productive in what way?" It was Regulus who asked, his eyes flicking between Snape and Rigel.
Rigel tilted her head to look at Regulus, saying, "Academically. I generally spend my summers studying or researching."
"Potions?" Regulus clarified, glancing again at Snape and pulling his Occlumency shields to the fore to suppress the panic.
Rigel nodded, "Professor Snape is kind enough to guide my studies, when my interest alone does not drive me toward a topic."
"You must have made quite an impression, for Severus to go out of his way to assist you," Regulus mused aloud.
Please tell me I'm wrong—
"It is he who assists me, in fact," Snape said smoothly, his eyes glinting at Regulus, "Your nephew has made himself indispensable to my current research."
Rigel couldn't help but flush at the high praise, "Professor Snape is too generous with his praise. He humours my assistance, for which I am very grateful."
"Ever humble, is he not?" Mr. Malfoy said, his voice not revealing whether that was a compliment or an insult.
"Don't sell your gifts so cheaply," Regulus said sharply, trying to ignore how long back in the past the words were taking him, "Y—A… Black must always be conscious of his own worth."
"I am too conscious of it," Rigel said, and Regulus suppressed an incredulous snort, "Which is why I could not let Professor Snape's hyperbolic comment go unqualified."
Snape's expression was positively challenging as he replied, "You think I embellish my words, Mr. Black? The last time you assisted me, how many variants of Aconite Alleviation did we brew?"
Aconite's Alleviation? Regulus thought hysterically. That wasn’t even the sort of brew Regulus could hope to call the boy mediocre for.
If the boy brewed just one—
"Four, Professor."
Snape smirked as both Regulus and Mr. Malfoy stiffened slightly.
"Four?" Malfoy pinned Snape with a glare, "You assured me that your unaccountable mania over this project would not lead to unconscionable risks. For all your pride, you haven't the magic to afford brewing that more than twice in a—"
"I did not," Snape interrupted, his expression unmistakably smug, "Mr. Black supplied the magic."
Malfoy reared back from his diatribe and narrowed his eyes at the boy, "Did he indeed?"
"Yes," Regulus said, eyes narrowing not at Rigel but at Snape, "Did he really?"
It was a very risky amount of magic to ask a child to imbue.
"As I said," Snape looked down at Rigel with subtle triumph, "Indispensable. The experimentation stage proceeded exponentially quicker with Mr. Black assisting me."
Regulus relaxed a little. Whatever else may be, Severus did not seem to be exploiting the boy due to his… supposed family name. In fact, there seemed to be quite a bit of fondness at play.
Regulus suppressed the twinge of… something when he realised it could have been easily him there, right now.
He chided himself at his foolishness. He knew nothing of potions.
But I could have still been there as a guardian figure.
Regulus shut his internal thought processes altogether.
"If you'll excuse me," he said after a respectable few minutes of discussion, and just… left.
Later, when it was time for him to let his Occlumency shields down and feel it all, he thought he would scream.
Instead the man just slumped on his couch, threw back his head and laughed himself dry.
***
He didn't know what they were thinking! The Parkinson's Gala was just as socially important as any other— and Harriet and her cousin Archie had both come this time round.
How did they think they were going to pull this off?
"Reggie," Sirius said bracingly, "How are you?"
"Just tickled to see you, brother," Regulus said. His voice could have been mistaken for the scraping of a knife across stale bread.
"It's wonderful to see you, too, Uncle," Sirius' son put in, and Regulus knew from the use of the word 'wonderful' immediately that this boy was not the Rigel he knew, "What have you been up to?"
"The usual," Regulus said, sounding bored, "Protecting people from their own stupidity."
"I told you when you specialised in ward construction that you would spend all your time arguing with architects," Sirius said archly.
"At least I spend my time doing something," Regulus said, one eyebrow lifting in amusement as he played along, "When was the last time you added to our family's fortunes instead of merely depleting them, Brother?"
"I have a team of incredibly talented investors who do that for me," Sirius said, waving his hand dismissively.
"And how do they feel about you going Neutral?" Regulus asked, a sly smirk adorning one cheek, "Are they just ecstatic? Does it warm their accounting books to know that all those galleons you've been funnelling into the Light Party's donation fund are safe in the vault where they belong?"
"My employees don't give a rat's arse what I do with my money," Sirius said, scowling.
"Hmm, and what about Dumbledore?" Regulus pressed, his smirk widening further and concealing his genuine curiosity. "How is the old puppet-master getting along without your oh-so-regular contributions?"
"Lord Dumbledore will be fine for a few years," Sirius said stiffly.
Regulus didn't press. He'd gotten the confirmation he needed. Sirius was only claiming Neutral to be there for his son at these parties and gatherings. While Regulus could not appreciate the gesture, especially because of what it meant in terms of the support the Light had lost, he thought he might have been more able to do so had he had children of his own.
Regulus turned his attention to Harriet Potter instead. Her green eyes were very, very bright, as ethereal as he remembered them being that fateful day. She and 'Arcturus' did look quite similar, now that he could see them next to each other, only her hair was longer. He wondered what charms— or potions, really, this was her after all —she had used to achieve the effect.
"Who's this, then?" He said, no trace of familiarity leaking through.
"I'm Harry," she said, smiling ever so politely, though he saw the pained and nervous look in her eyes, "Your…second cousin once removed, Mr. Black."
"Potter's Heiress," Regulus said, slightly amused at how she had distanced herself from 'Rigel' by foregoing his formal way of speaking, "I take it this is your first social event?"
Harry nodded, eyes still uncertain at how unaffected he seemed to be, "Yes."
Regulus looked at her for a second more, and wondered at what he was about to do.
The girl knew to read social cues beautifully, as he had seen well enough in the past, and she was a Slytherin besides.
And she deserved to know.
So Regulus let his lips twitch upward ever so slightly and blinked at her in reassurance.
The girl's lips parted, and before she could help it a wide smile spread on her face.
Arcturus looked at her with some fear while the interaction was lost on Sirius completely.
Harry squeezed the boy's hand reassuringly and said nothing. Regulus too, stood there quietly for a moment, before nodding in a last greeting, and setting off.
After all, he could only suppress that smile for so long.
And when Severus came to ask for an approval for apprenticeship from Sirius, Regulus only an arm's length away, he let it bloom.
***
Most often, Regulus only had to act oblivious and fully exploit the term 'plausible deniability' to keep the ruse afloat. Sometimes, though, he thought the children wouldn't mind a little help.
So when Sirius told him he suspected Archie was unconsciously influencing his metamorphmagus tendencies to look like Harry, instead of laughing he nodded seriously and said he would look into it before discreetly asking Severus of the possibility and planting the idea in his head such that he could quiet his own and others' suspicions.
Sirius' next birthday did indeed find him invited, and Regulus had only just walked out of the floo that he saw Harry once more.
She greeted him politely and he realised with some amusement that she was filling in for Archie's duties. Strangely, he didn't find himself caring about the breach in tradition. It surprised him, for although he had moved past bigotry he had still held tradition in high esteem and considered it the way.
He greeted her quietly and they walked for a while, him letting her lead despite knowing his way through Potter Place. He almost didn't register the discreet muffling charm she put around them in case they were to say anything… dangerous.
At some point, he just said, "A life of lies is very damaging, you know."
She looked at him, lips twitching in a facsimile of a sad smile, "Yeah, I know."
And he knew she had misunderstood, because really, when had he known her to feel sad for herself? He raised an eyebrow at her, "Not just to those around you."
She stilled for so short a time he was sure he'd have missed it if he wasn't looking.
"One of the reasons it is so damaging, even to oneself," she said finally, "is because you can't just crawl out of it."
"Well, if we're talking about normal lies, then you always can," Regulus retorted, "But not for criminal ones, no."
Harry laughed shortly.
Regulus looked at her, "But there will always be a point where that world crumbles itself," He paused, "You need to be prepared for it, Harry."
Harry swallowed, "I know."
Regulus nodded and said nothing more.
He knew what it was to live a lie too, after all.
And he thought she knew that, too.
***
The World Cup ended up a disaster, and Regulus was in a bad place with Riddle over it. Regulus could hardly point out that the man ought to stop being a blithering idiot and find someone actually to blame rather than the convenient Ward Master who just did his job as specified, so he was stuck there for a while.
At least that meant no missions or frequent audiences together, Regulus tried to tell himself.
But that didn't mean that things weren't going to hell behind his back.
When Sirius had shown up in only trousers and utterly drenched in paint while going on about some World Cup attack, Regulus had thought him roaring drunk. It had taken him some time to actually consider it, at which point he had hurried through and helped lift the wards. He was later assured by asking some discreet questions of Sirius, that Harry had made it out safely.
So that was one good thing, at least. The Top Box had, after all, been directly attacked.
Now, after a hellish week in the black hole that was the public's disapproving eye, Regulus was summoned to Lord Riddle's side to make a report on his nephew— or rather, second cousin once removed, but Riddle didn't need to know that. He could not imagine a subject he cared less to discuss with his lord than Rigel Black.
"Rise, Regulus," Riddle said after an unnecessary increment as Regulus bowed, "Tell me what has occupied young Rigel these past months."
Regulus met Riddle's eyes briefly, not letting any of his important thoughts leak through, then flicked his gaze to the man's left ear instead. "My nephew has recently returned from abroad. His internship in the Darien Gap community was extended due to some sort of outbreak, and he returned to England yesterday."
"So he truly did have plans for the summer," Riddle mused. Regulus said nothing, as the comment was not, he thought, intended for him. He had to wonder when Rigel might have made Lord Riddle aware of her summer plans, however. As far as he knew, Rigel hadn't seen Riddle since the New Year's Gala, at which point she had not yet secured her internship. And what sort of plans would Riddle have had for her otherwise?
The conversation continued in that vein for a while, with Riddle finally saying that he would see to meeting Rigel himself— a fact that Regulus stored away for later —and him studiously ignoring the report he also had to make on Harriet Potter until Riddle himself asked him.
"She is at least as attached to Rigel as he is to her." Regulus said, "Her influence over him is, I admit, greater than my own, and she's made it clear she brooks no attempt to separate the two."
"Arrogant girl," Riddle murmured.
Regulus said nothing until Riddle let the silence go on far too long, and he thought he might have to sway him from darker routes to an end.
"You may consider involving Severus," Regulus said after a second of consideration. As Riddle's eyes locked onto his once more, Regulus silently asked his halfblood friend for his forgiveness. Severus would not thank him for what he was about to reveal. "He's been working with Heiress Potter this summer. I have no hold over the girl, but Severus… Well, her goal is to become a Potions Mistress… he might know fitting ways to handle this." And he would.
The laugh that followed his suggestion was entirely pleased. "Regulus, your insight never ceases to inspire me. I have been treating this girl as I would a lion—a sharp smack to the nose and she ought to have flinched. Perhaps she requires a more serpentine approach." Riddle trailed his fingers back and forth on the arm of his chair, his face closed in thought. "Yes," he said at last. "The girl's ambition will be her downfall."
That Regulus' jaw did not clench was a testament to his Occlumency skills. But he knew he had done the right thing. Severus, ironically despite not knowing of the ruse, was well aware of Rigel's and Harry's wishes on the matter and valued them enough to divert Riddle as much as possible. Certainly more than Regulus could.
Riddle drew his hands together in a steeple. Over their tips, he said, "What of the tournament's preparations?"
Regulus was taken aback by the question. "My lord, you are…proceeding with that, in the wake of recent events?" He honestly assumed the grand scheme would be cancelled or at least postponed. The Wizarding World was up in arms over the travesty of the World Cup. It didn't seem wise to Regulus to present their indignation a large and ostentatious target.
"I'm certainly not going to write off months of work because a few masked imbeciles decided to lose their minds for an evening," Riddle said sharply.
"I only fear it may be seen as politically incendiary," Regulus said carefully. "Given the current atmosphere."
"It is incendiary in the way we need it to be," Riddle said, lowering his lids in a way that precluded further argument. "Our spectacle will refocus the community on what is important. It will look reasonable, compared to the manic fanatics at the Cup. Our legislation will be a natural extension of the point we prove. In any case, the Ministry's Department of Magical Games and Sports is now desperate for revenue to recompense the claims of property loss currently being levied against it. I couldn't stop our little show if I wanted to."
"And I suppose Messrs.' Bagman and Crouch will be so eager to see its smooth execution that your every demand will be satisfied," Regulus guessed. If he was not certain that his lord had nothing to do with the attack on the World Cup, he might wonder at the convenience. But he knew Riddle as a man to simply take advantage of every situation.
The seated wizard smiled, and it was edged with dark satisfaction. "Indeed, Regulus. We may be moving in Dumbledore's jurisdiction, but this time I will have complete control of how the year plays out."
Regulus could only hope that was untrue.
Then again, wasn't it better than a third-party interrupting and ruining everything?
***
Regulus was not surprised that Riddle pushed for Rigel to become the Pureblood Champion. He was surprised that she agreed, however.
What could Riddle possibly have promised for such a thing?
He didn't know.
The First Task gave some other illuminating news, however.
Draco chatting animatedly about anything involving Rigel proved to be one of the most effective ways to get her to step in.
"—and it bounced into me and knocked me right off my feet! I had no idea a Fortis shield could be used that way."
3…
2…
1.
Alarmed, Rigel cut into their conversation, "Draco, there you are. I saw your father, but you'd wandered off."
Draco spun around and favoured her with a scowl. "I wandered off? Father and I waited, but when Lord Riddle came in, he had to go greet him. Luckily, there are some members of your family who can be counted on to maintain social graces."
"Just the one," she corrected him. "Hello, Uncle Regulus. I hope you're enjoying the evening."
"Nephew," Regulus acknowledged, eyes ever searching for her continued health, "Heir Malfoy was just recounting a duel he had with you recently. I understand you have been practising in your free time; that is wise of you. I don't doubt those skills will be called upon before the year is over."
"Draco is a gifted teacher," Rigel said, smiling. "It would be foolish not to take advantage of his talents in preparing myself for the tournament."
Oh?
"The way he tells it, you could teach in your own right," Regulus said, eyes bright with pride and interest. "Your use of the Fortis shield sounds perfectly inspired. Where did you learn such a technique?"
Regulus was fairly certain he knew, but the answer was potentially very dangerous. Was Rigel involved with the lower alley folk as well?
Rigel tilted her head to the side innocently. "Oh, that? My cousin taught me. She said she saw someone down Diagon Alley practising the move this summer. It seemed like a fun trick, so we figured out how to recreate it."
"Where in Diagon Alley?" Regulus asked. His voice was inflectionless, as though the answer didn't mean a thing to him. As though he were only making small talk. Except Regulus Black didn't make small talk, and he was currently amused at how she was referring to her cousin as though she was a separate person.
Rigel shrugged with a slight frown. "I'm not too sure. I think she said there was a pub just off the beaten path. The Prancing Pony or something. I guess they have a big court right in front and some people were mucking about for fun there."
The Prancing Pony— pffft. Regulus really had to suppress amusement.
"I know the place," Regulus said slowly. "Your…cousin should be careful where she wanders. Some of those 'mucking about' down there are dangerous."
Her eyes widened in dismay. "I'll tell her. I'm sure she wouldn't want to get mixed up in anything unsafe. She just goes poking around for apothecaries from time to time. Says there are better bargains away from the tourist strip."
Regulus didn't believe her, but he left it for now.
"I'd advise you to keep such tricks to a minimum in the tournament," Regulus said, twisting his lips in a way that he knew she would understand to mean go for it. "A proper pureblood doesn't stoop to cheap entertainment when he duels. If you come up against the other competitors, finish them fast, without finesse."
Go ahead and break them all. You don't need to be a proper pureblood to win.
Rigel gave a riveting response and Regulus swept away in an affected huff and hid a smile.
A smile that would shatter when the horror unfolded in the Forbidden Forest.
***
While the first task had him gritting his teeth and the second task made up for its initial serenity by that rather dangerous ending, the third task had left him utterly amazed.
Rigel had demolished all competition like a marvel and he had never been prouder.
So when he received the chance to interact with her at the Yule Ball, he didn't hesitate or temper his praise.
"Sirius," he said, nodding with the barest suggestion of respect. "Nephew." His grey eyes on her were warm with approval. "Excellent showing in the third task. The might of the House of Black will be unquestioned for years to come."
She stared up at him in utter surprise.
"Thank you, Uncle," she said slowly. "I'm gratified you didn't find the display overly vulgar."
He narrowed his eyes at her smirk and reminder of their last interaction. "If the tournament were subject to the Common British Duelling Etiquette, you'd have been disqualified a number of times over. Then again, you'd never have faced an opponent with a blade in those circumstances, either. Anyone could forgive a certain amount of…indecorous creative action, as it were."
"Any Slytherin, you mean," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "Just admit Archie was awesome, Reggie."
"Do not call me that," Regulus hissed.
At Rigel's fond smile, Regulus snapped at her playfully, "Don't think you'll be excused for every lapse in tradition you displayed on that stage," he said sharply. "Wherever did you learn such a swift application of runes? That's not in any compendium of standard duelling techniques that I've seen."
She smiled innocently at him. "It was more Alchemy, actually, than runes alone. Headmaster Dumbledore taught me."
"Dumbledore?" Regulus very nearly spluttered. "He takes less than a dozen students a decade. Am I to believe he's teaching you some sort of—of battle Alchemy?"
Just how brilliant was she?
"He teaches me all sorts of things," she said, her apparent honesty making her teasing words even sweeter. "His class is quite unstructured. Some days we just talk about whatever strikes our interest."
Regulus suppressed smiled at that. It would surely build some very interesting conversations.
"I'm not surprised you haven't come across runeless arrays, though, seeing as Dumbledore writes all his own textbooks," She said.
Sirius laughed lightly. "Of course he does. Half the time, I'm pretty certain he only humours the rest of us by pretending to be bound by magic's typical limits."
Rigel chuckled as well, much of her amusement derived from the apoplectic annoyance Regulus was trying and failing to affect. "You're right, Dad. I've caught him using wildly different wand movements for the same Transfiguration. I think he's just having fun when he waves a wand. Great wizard, Dumbledore."
Regulus opened his mouth to outwardly reprimand her, then decided to just let pretences be for once and walked away. Rigel and Sirius' laughs followed him all the way, and he let that make up for his inability to do the same right there, right then.
***
He thought it was over. He thought, as Rigel gripped the cup, that the madness of the damned tournament would end at last and they'd have some peace.
He should have known it wasn't to be.
He should have— but then how could he?
Everything had been going so perfectly.
The task before this had been horrendous, and still Rigel had won. And she'd been doing so well this time around too, so much so that his pride only grew by each second. Defeating a Hyena Animagus. Outduelling an Auror. And then petrifying a Sphinx!
So what could possibly go wrong? He had thought. Rigel had this in the bag.
And then it happened, and Regulus was left wondering how he could have possibly been so naive.
As Regulus wove through the enraged crowds and tried to ignore the insanity of Rigel knowing a Vampire on first-name basis and said Vampire being a younger replica of Lord Riddle and the boy being physically and magically assaulted right in front of him and him being able to do nothing about it before that damned reveal and- and—
Regulus did not think it would be a healthy idea to suppress this much with Occlumency, but he did. And as he predicted, it only made him more frustrated and lost.
The aurors were setting up perimeters and looking for him all over. Regulus could only hope that they couldn't catch Rigel, and that if the boy was to stumble into someone, it would be him.
"You just took it from him."
"It's not pure."
Regulus wanted to scream.
***
Riddle was absolutely. dangerously. furious.
"How in Sssalazar's name did you not know??!" He spat at him in a furious mix of parseltongue and english.
All the items in the room were shattering one by one.
Regulus didn't dare breathe.
"I'm sorry, my lord."
"Get out of my sssight, and don't dare ressst until you have sssomething ussseful for me!"
Regulus allowed himself only one nervous swallow, and then Flooed away.
***
Regulus left for Grimmauld place and staged an acceptable amount of disgust, surprise and fear that established that he had never known anything at all quite well.
He then met up with Harry in the Lower Alleys and after checking her for good health and buying her three scoops of ice-cream, asked her what, exactly, could be done about his situation and if there was anything plausible he could do to misdirect Riddle.
She told him about the piece of magic no longer contaminating her, and after a lot of swearing and chilling anger at the knowledge that she had to deal with anything like that in the first place, he decided that would probably be the best bit to let Riddle know. They decided Sirius threatening expulsion from the family was plausible and the best they could do to protect the secret of where he got it from.
Before he left, he pulled her tightly into a hug and told her to take care.
She smiled and wiped her eyes and told him that she would.
Regulus pondered that there were few things as precious as this: this soft feeling of warmth, this protectiveness coming from somewhere so deep within him that he couldn't even guess at where it was from.
But he knew what people would say: Regulus Black had found his heart.
And he'd say he found his child.