Chapter 1
It was hours before the square was cleared and the last of the panicked crowd calmed, inspected and allowed to leave through the checkpoint exit in the perimeter wards.
Tom had identified a surprising number of Dumbledore’s supporters in the crowd—Augusta Longbottom had glared at him condescendingly and Sirius Black had winked mischievously at him—but they appeared equally ignorant as to what had happened with Rigel and the Rod.
If Tom hadn’t felt Vow’s binding vanish, signalling the fulfilment of Rigel’s obligation, if Tom hadn’t seen the Rod move, lift, twist, then disappear, then even he might have doubted that the boy had ever been present.
The boy must have Death’s Cloak.
It was the only explanation.
How else could the boy have remained invisible in the onslaught of Tom’s spells?
How else could the boy’s presence remain imperceptible to Tom’s Legilimency?
Not once had Tom felt Rigel’s characteristic unpresence, despite repeatedly sweeping the area within the wards with his magical and mental awareness. The unique sense of the Rod had also vanished.
How else could the boy have escaped the square with the Rod? The perimeter wards blocked apparation and portkeys. Tom had overseen the perimeter wards himself. Aurors guarded all the physical exits.
Tom’s Legilimency induced headache was not helping his temper, and if it wasn’t for the binding on the Rod—and the now exciting possibility of finding the illustrious Cloak of Death when he tracked down the boy—Tom would have been hard pressed to contain his temper.
Tom reminded himself that Rigel had the Rod. That was what was important. The boy might have evaded him today, but ultimately Rigel would not escape; only the strongest of Occlumens could resist the Rod. Despite everything, Rigel was still a child. The Rod would incapacitate Rigel and the binding would enable Tom to hunt the boy in his own time.
And how Tom would enjoy the hunt.
But first Tom would track down the boy’s family. He had a solid clue now.
~*~
If not for the fact that the book he was handling was centuries old, the parchment brittle with age, Tom would have slammed it down in disgust.
He’d thought that gaining confirmation of the Peverell connection—of the main line descended from Ignotus Peverell at that—would help his search to find Rigel and his family, but no.
Tom’s current foray into genealogical history hadn’t uncovered any new records he hadn’t examined earlier or delivered any new insights into Peverell descendants.
When Tom had realised that his Parseltongue provided a clue to his magical heritage, he’d extensively researched Parselmouth families—the Peverell line being foremost amongst them, as it contained the earliest records of Parselmouths.
The Peverell name was no more; hadn’t been for many years, being subsumed into other families when Peverell daughters married.
As the centuries passed, the Peverell family tree grew no less twisted and tangled than any other pureblood tree—until tragedy struck like lightning and all but a few branches were sundered.
Tom had been certain that his earlier failure to unearth Rigel’s Peverell connections had been as a result of unrecorded squib or bastard lines, but now?
Only the legitimate line of descent could have been bequeathed Death’s Cloak. Of that he was certain.
It was inconceivable that such a priceless heirloom would be passed down to anyone other than the true heir; no squib child or bastard son could possibly be such a beneficiary. Likewise, but for an absence of male heirs, no daughter would have been gifted the cloak.
He’d traced the Peverells as well as anyone could. By the end of the nineteenth century the only notable Peverell descendants were the Potters and the Gaunts, and Tom well knew that the Gaunts were not the keepers of Death’s Cloak. Death’s Stone, yes; Death’s Cloak, no.
Once again Tom was hit with cognitive dissonance.
The Potters were a Light family. An incandescently Light family, famously so. Second only to the Albrights, Longbottoms and Dumbledore for their obsession with Light magics and their stalwart rejection of anything that could possibly be considered less than Light.
It was … incomprehensible … that the Potters would have such a Dark artefact as Death’s Cloak; that the Potters would have the Dark magic gift of Parseltongue in their bloodline, running through their veins.
Admittedly, Tom didn’t know much about the current Lord Potter. For all that James Potter was now Head Auror and Tom the de facto overlord of the Wizangamot—however much Dumbledore and his cronies might like to dispute that—James Potter had seldom crossed paths with Tom. Potter didn’t associate with Dark Purebloods, and it was not Tom’s role to deal with underlings like Potter; that was Fudge’s job.
Tom sneered. It was typical that a Light Pureblood be drawn to the enforcement of regulation and order; the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was teeming with the dregs of the Light families, with Bones’s, Potters, Longbottoms, and Shacklebolts. How lacking they were in creativity and imagination to mindlessly follow the career paths laid down by their forebears.
Nevertheless, as incongruous as it seemed, as difficult as Tom found it to envisage, the Potters were still best placed to be the Inheritors of Death’s Cloak.
~*~
It suddenly occurred to Tom that James Potter had a taste for muggleborn women; he’d even married one, though the witch only bore him daughters, not sons.
If Potter’s eldest had been male, Tom might have suspected that child of being Rigel. The Peverell connection was pointing strongly to the Potters. But Rigel was very much a boy; his male physique in the fourth task had been apparent to all spectators.
And then there was Rigel’s magical power and his skill at dueling, the ferocity of his spellcasting, the cunning and ruthlessness that had so impressed Tom as Rigel had annihilated Jacob Owens. All very masculine traits. Those abilities, that behaviour, that was not how a girl would present.
Besides, what girl would willingly pretend to be a boy for four years? Sleeping in the boys dormitory? It was unthinkable!
But perhaps Lady Potter wasn’t the only muggleborn witch—Tom knew that some wizards were drawn to a particular type of female—to catch James Potter’s eye.
Perhaps the Potter daughters weren’t the only Potter children of this generation, even though Lord Potter was the only Potter of his generation.
Could Rigel be James Potter’s bastard son?!?
~*~
“Rise, Regulus,” Tom said, only a hint of the disdain he felt for the wizard kneeling before him evident in his voice. Time for Regulus Black to earn his keep, to compensate for his failure to see through Rigel’s deception, his failure to recognise that the boy was not his nephew.
“My Lord,” Regulus replied, stiffly rising to his feet, his eyes only briefly touching on Tom’s own before settling his gaze slightly to the left of Tom’s face.
Inwardly Tom smirked; he’d long since outgrown the need for sustained eye contact when using Legilimency, in contradiction to what purebloods taught their children.
For all that Regulus was a Black, Tom had long since learnt that Blacks weren’t as strong in the Mind Arts as they believed. Severus, for instance, had a much greater claim to being a Master of the Mind Arts than did Regulus.
“Do you know if James Potter had an invisibility cloak while he was at Hogwarts?” Tom asked.
Tom might not have known Charlus Potter well—the wizard was very much one of Dumbledore’s cronies—but he could easily imagine the previous Potter Lord caring little for the provenance of such a valuable dark artefact and giving it to his teenage son to take to school as an aid in pranking.
“The Marauders were particularly good at causing trouble without being caught,” Regulus remembered, showing no surprise at the unexpected topic.
“An invisibility cloak would certainly have helped them with their pranks,” he mused thoughtfully. “Severus was always suspicious about what they were up to, but they were a close knit group, and very secretive, so I don’t actually know.”
Not particularly well kept secrets, Tom thought, suddenly remembering how Peter Pettigrew had so willingly told of illegal animagus activities as he sought to ingratiate himself with Tom.
Not that the information that despicable rodent disclosed had been of much use; school boy pranks were largely irrelevant and unimpressive in the world outside Hogwarts.
The Marauders might have thought of themselves as big fish in the Hogwarts pond, but post school their importance—even amongst Dumbledore’s faction—was not significant, and their value lessened further when they largely withdrew from society to raise their families.
For the first time in a long time Tom almost regretted the passing of the rather pathetic Peter Pettigrew. The man had been revealed as a traitor of the worst kind, daring to steal what was rightfully Tom’s, but he might at least have been able to answer the question about whether or not Potter had an invisibility cloak, and if so if there was anything unusual about it.
“What else can you tell me of James Potter and his family?” Tom asked.
“Perhaps not as much as you might wish to know,” Regulus replied dryly. “The Potters are—or were until James Potter married a muggleborn—Light Purebloods of longstanding pedigree. Consequently my family didn’t associate with them anymore than they would have associated with the Albrights.
“Yet James Potter is now inseparable from my brother—and has been since they were both sorted into Gryffindor—” Tom could detect bitterness hidden behind Regulus’s words “—but as you know Sirius and I are not close.”
Tom refrained from huffing contemptuously. Regulus had certainly shown his distance from his brother and his nephew when he failed to see through Rigel’s deception; although reportedly Sirius Black had also been deceived by the imposter.
“James Potter married a muggleborn,” Tom stated flatly. “Could it be that James Potter has had relations with other muggleborn women, or even muggle women?”
“I could not say, my Lord,” Regulus answered, initially puzzled by the question.
“But my brother did have a certain reputation at Hogwarts for being an enthusiastic paramour among both witches and wizards—regardless of purity. Perhaps among muggles too—” Regulus’s face twisted into a grimace “—but I did not care to be involved with my brother’s antics, or those of his Marauder friends, so I do not know.”
Regulus then demonstrated that not all Blacks were as frivolous and mindless as his brother, connecting the dots that Tom had scattered before him to reach the same conclusion that Tom had, reinforcing the merit of Tom’s hypothesis.
“Are you suggesting that Rigel Black is James Potter’s bastard?!?”
“Perhaps,” said Tom mildly. “What do you think? I know little of the man, other than that which you have told me; that he is the Lord of a longstanding Light Pureblood family with close ties to Dumbledore.”
“The more I learn about Potter’s Heiress—and I suppose she remains Potter’s Heiress even if Potter has an illegitimate son—the more connections I find to Rigel. So it could fit,” Regulus mused.
“Elaborate,” Tom said curtly.
“The girl spent the last four years in the alleys, where she supposedly learnt free dueling, which she claims she then taught Rigel.”
Tom raised his eyebrows at this absurdity. “Really?”
“I have little doubt that Rigel learnt free dueling in the alleys,” Regulus replied. “I have examined his dueling style closely; the boy is no stranger to free dueling.”
Tom nodded thoughtfully. Experience with free dueling would explain why the boy was not phased when faced with a sword wielding opponent, although it was highly improbable that Rigel learnt his skills from a girl.
“As to who taught the boy free dueling?” Regulus shrugged. “It is more than likely that the girl is covering for someone else.” Regulus paused, as if choosing his next words carefully.
“Regardless, I do believe that she is close to Rigel; quite possibly the connection between the alleys, Arcturus and Rigel. It was the girl’s place at AIM that my nephew took, after all.”
“Would she associate with a bastard half brother?” Tom asked, although he strongly suspected she would; the negotiations he’d had with Rigel over the boy’s tournament entry demonstrated a strong bond between Rigel and the Potter girl.
Regulus sneered. “Lord Potter has little time for pureblood society; he married a muggleborn and is close with a werewolf. The girl herself has little regard for social mores. She is … not out of place in the alleys,” he said, and Tom could almost taste Regulus’s revulsion for the alleys and their inhabitants.
“Yet she somehow thinks of my nephew, the Black Heir, as her cousin, and sees Arcturus as her equal, no matter the gaping distance between their social stature. I have little doubt that the girl would not care if Rigel was her bastard half brother.”
“What would Lady Potter think of her husband’s bastard?” Tom asked.
“Severus might know,” Regulus said. “I believe he knew Lady Potter before her marriage.”
He paused. “Severus was in the same year at Hogwarts as the Marauders. He may be able to assist.
~*~
Severus Snape was well known for his emotionless countenance, so his gaping open mouth at Tom’s question was rather unexpected.
“Close your mouth, Severus,” Tom said mildly, inwardly chuckling at the normally dour man’s stunned expression. “The fish out of water look really doesn’t suit you.”
“I apologise, my lord,” Severus replied, collecting himself.
“The idea that Rigel could be James Potter’s bastard son—” the derisive expression on Severus’s face was indeed something to behold; few mastered contemptuous scorn as well as Severus “—is initially hard to swallow.”
Tom said nothing; there was no need for him to fill the silence, Severus would continue in his own time.
“I confess that I did struggle at first accepting that such a prodigious and worthy potions apprentice as Rigel was the son of Sirius Black. There are few people I detest more than Sirius Black; but James Potter is one of them.”
“What do you think?”
Severus was silent, lost in thought, a pained look on his face.
“For Lily’s sake, I would hope not, although I suppose she made her choice and must pay the price,” Severus said bitterly, more to himself than to Tom.
“But James Potter is certainly far from being the Gryffindor golden boy that he pretends to be. My loathing of James Potter is not without reason.”
Once again, Severus was silent.
“I cannot hold the boy responsible for the sins of the father. Rigel’s parentage has no bearing on his ability or his commitment, his … devotion to learning the art of potions. Irrespective of her father I have accepted Miss Potter as my apprentice because her skill demands it; I can do no less for Rigel.”
~*~
It wasn’t quite the reaction Tom had anticipated from Severus, but it was more than sufficient verification for Tom’s purposes, not that Tom ever needed validation of his plans.
Rigel—and his blood traitor family—were within Tom’s grasp and none of them realised...