The Serpentine Subterfuge

by murkybluematter

Harriett Potter survived her first year masquerading as a pureblooded boy, but sinister forces are now moving through the wizarding world, and when something sinister starts moving through Hogwarts as well, Harry and her friends are pulled into another maelstrom—whether Harry likes it or not. Book two. Alanna the Lioness take on HP.

13. Chapter 13

A/N: Here, at last. Pretty good length, but long overdue. I don't own what you recognized before reading this story, etc, but I hope you all enjoy this installment nevertheless. This chapter was a little more difficult to get right, because a lot of things lead up to the grand finale, but I think I'm mostly satisfied, with a good deal of help from Elelith. Also, ladybellacullen91 created her avatar in honor of this story, so check it out cause it's really awesome!

Let me know what you think.

The Serpentine Subterfuge:

Chapter 13:

March was subdued. Nearly everyone was in a sour mood about having extracurriculars cancelled, especially the Quidditch crowd. Rigel supposed she herself was included in the Quidditch crowd, but while she missed the opportunity to get outside and exercise, she wasn't terribly concerned with the tournament being called off.

They were given an extra study period where their Defense classes used to be, along with a suggested curriculum of independent study. Judging by the resigned way McGonagall explained their outlined syllabus for the foreseeable future, Rigel thought the professors weren't honestly expecting them to learn any Defense that year. Still, independent study of any kind was probably better than listening to Lockhart monologue for an hour every day. Rigel was certainly getting a lot of her own independent work done with the mandatory increase of studying time. She had taken to spending their two hours in the Library every evening looking up all the information needed for Flint's essays, then actually writing the essays late at night or early in the morning when no one else was around.

Their Library session overlapped with the Gryffindor session by an hour, so Rigel was able to collaborate with Percy for Transfiguration help even though she couldn't go to the Tower anymore.

The first Tuesday of March, however, Rigel sought out a different member of the Weasley Family during Library time.

Ginny Weasley was slumped over a thick, dusty book, turning the pages with one hand and resting her chin tiredly in the other. Rigel cleared her throat softly and the redheaded girl looked up with detached disinterest.

"Yes?" she said, looking back at her book after only a brief, dull glance at Rigel's face.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about something you mentioned before," Rigel said, "I've been thinking over that idea you had—"

"Not now, okay?" Ginny said. Her tone was blunt and dismissive.

"Of course," Rigel said politely, reeling in her expression automatically to its neutral mask, "I'm free tomorrow—"

"Just leave me alone," Ginny snapped, rubbing her forehead with two fingers, "I don't want to talk about anything I said before."

"I see," Rigel said, blinking, "My apologies."

Ginny looked up again, this time with weary regret, "Look I'm sorry, Rigel. I'm too tired today. Maybe later."

Rigel nodded in acceptance, though something in Ginny's voice made it seem like there would be no later.

Still, Rigel couldn't let go of Ginny's idea. At first she had dismissed it as pure nonsense, but slowly the idea was growing on her. Ginny had asked her, weeks ago, about having some kind of guardian in her head, to defend her mind while she wasn't actively concentrating on it. At first Rigel had thought Ginny meant letting some other sentient thing inside her head to take up residence there, and had rejected the idea because of the danger inherently present in such a solution, but what if it didn't have to be like that?

What if she could make a sentient construct in her mind out of magic, the way she made other things in her mind using magic, and set it up as a guardian like Ginny had imagined? It would probably have to be constantly powered through her magical core, but Rigel didn't use her magic very often anyway, and even when imbuing high-level potions her core was rarely noticeably depleted. There had been that one time when her magic shielded her from the explosion, which had drained an unusual amount of her magic all at once, but other than accidents like that, her reserves went largely untouched.

She had wanted to talk to Ginny again before trying the idea, in case the other girl had any more insight as to how one might go about creating such a thing. Ginny seemed to have a strange, intuitive grasp of certain aspects of the mental arts, so her input would probably have been helpful. Still, Rigel was no stranger to figuring things out on her own.

She settled in an unused corner of the Library and let her senses take her to her mental plane. She opened her eyes as her mental avatar glided out of the mist, taking in the familiar, comforting sight of her mountain peak standing tall in the midst of the swirling snow.

She hurried around the mountain, through the illusion of stone at its base and into her potions lab. She had been adding to it rather steadily over the past months, and the decoy lab was rather incredible if she did say so herself. Drawing on inspiration from Snape's lab, she had added many more cabinets of ingredients to the cave walls and filled the shelves with scroll upon scroll of potion recipes, both real and fake. The rug that hid the trapdoor was incredibly detailed now, luxuriously soft and intricately woven. The cheery fireplace inside was inlaid with stone carvings of various medicinal plants, and the tables in the lab were polished to a high shine. She sank into one of the many plushy armchairs she'd added to her lab, and tried to figure out how she was going to create what she wanted.

She called on her magic, and let it pool in her hands until she held twin balls of molten fire that twisted and jumped in her palms with restless energy. She held an image in her mind of what she wanted and carefully let the magic flow from her hands into the air before her. It twirled and spun about, weaving layers of magic onto more layers of magic, and slowly what she imagined began to take shape. She smiled softly as she worked; magic was just so easy in the mental landscape. It was as easy as thinking and then willing.

The magic solidified into a human figure. It took on features, musculature, and clothes. Soon it was recognizable as a young man about her age, with dark hair like hers and black robes and grey eyes. When she was satisfied with the likeness, she broke the connection between herself and her magic, and waited.

The magic-made boy stood before her, silent and expressionless.

"Hello," she said.

He made no reply.

Frowning, Harry stood and examined her creation. He was motionless. He didn't breathe or blink. Rigel put two fingers to his throat to feel for a pulse. Nothing.

She sighed and sat back down. So all she'd done was make a magically-constructed mental puppet. He might make a convincing scarecrow, for about ten seconds.

She pulled on her magic again, gathered it in her hands, and pressed her hands to the puppet's torso, imagining the magic seeping into him, flowing into his veins and making his heart beat, reaching to his lungs and making them work like hers did.

The puppet began to inhale slowly, deeply, and exhale. After several tentative breaths it seemed to be breathing just as she would, and a quick check confirmed his heart was beating steadily.

"Hello?" she tried again.

Not so much as a twitch.

She sent her magic into the puppet again, willing it to reach his voice box and make it work.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," he answered.

She smiled a bit, "I'm Harry."

"I'm Harry," he said.

"What?" Harry frowned. Had she made him too close a copy of herself? Did he think he was her?

"What?" he said, hip lips barely moving and eyes flatly empty.

Harry sighed, "Oh, I see."

"Oh, I see."

So he only repeated everything she said back to him. There was no thought process behind it, no sentience.

She brushed her long hair over her shoulder with impatience. Why wasn't it working? Was she supposed to imagine every possible faculty a human mind possessed before it would take? But no, that's not how magic worked. When she created a table in her mind, she didn't have to know what every tiny piece of the table looked like. The magic drew from her general impressions of a table, and worked to make it seem real to her. When she transfigured a match to a needle in the physical world, she didn't have to calculate the exact metal alloy the needle would be composed of. She just had to hold what she knew of needles in her mind, and the magic took care of the specifics. Otherwise wizards would spend years learning to transfigure objects into animals, when in reality it only took a few weeks, because they just had to have a good-enough idea of what the animal was about for their magic to fill in the rest.

This was called the Minimum Level of Articulation Theory, and it applied to all kinds of magic. A wizard's will was what made a spell work, and it only required a basic level of understanding what exactly you were trying to do, or else kids could never learn anything at eleven with no prior training. To levitate something you didn't need to know how much it weighed or what it was made of, you just had to understand that you wanted it to weigh less, and have the power to make your will reality, of course.

So in theory she should be able to create a construct that behaved like a human as long as she had a basic understanding of what a human was. For some reason, though, her magic wasn't cooperating. Or rather, it was doing exactly what she asked it to, but she couldn't formulate the request the correct way. Maybe she didn't have a good enough grasp of what sentience was, Harry mused, settling back into her armchair and staring pensively up at the mostly-lifeless humanoid she'd created.

She tried sending more magic to the boy's brain, but it didn't seem to help. She could get him to do pretty much anything she imagined—stand, sit, run in a circle, speak—but she had to make him do it first. She couldn't seem to imbue him with the ability to act on his own.

A small part of her whispered that perhaps you couldn't create sentience. Maybe it was dependent on something incorporeal, like a soul. Harry shook her head. She wasn't really trying to create sentience, after all. It wasn't like she was trying to make an inanimate object in the real world come to life. She just wanted a mental construct that would have enough sentience to protect her mind while she wasn't paying attention to it.

She knew it was possible even in the physical world. After all, what was the Sorting Hat if not a sentient magical object? She'd heard that it was once an ordinary hat, and that Gryffindor had imbued it with sentience, so he had to have done it somehow, and it should be even easier to mimic the process in her mental landscape, where everything native was controlled by her mind.

But how?

She felt a tug at her physical senses and realized someone was shaking her shoulder lightly. She sent one last frustrated look at the human doll and flicked a bit of magic at him to make him sit in one of the armchairs. She knew he wasn't real, but it felt weird to leave him standing around like that.

She hurried through her mindscape to the mists, which she plunged into to send her consciousness back to her physical form.

Selwyn was leaning over her, still shaking her shoulder.

"I'm back," Rigel said, making to stand.

Selwyn backed off and crossed her arms, "About time, Black. Our two hours were up five minutes ago."

"Sorry, Selwyn," Rigel said, rolling her stiff shoulders.

"Sure you are, Black," Selwyn said, motioning her to follow as she headed toward the Library entrance where the rest of the Slytherins who'd elected to come to the Library were waiting. "Everyone in two lines, and make sure the person who stood next to you walking in is standing next to you now."

Rigel got into line next to Draco, who smirked at her and said, "Meditating, right? I told the Head Girl you'd be zoned out in a corner somewhere."

"Thanks, Draco," Rigel said dryly.

Draco just laughed at her.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

The next week Rigel received a letter from Sirius.

Dear Archie/ Rigel,

You aunt's baby is due on Sunday. Harry's got a big Healer's exam Monday morning, so she can't come to the birth if she wants to fly back in time, but I've sent a letter to Dumbledore to ask if you could attend. Here's hoping,

Dad

Rigel rolled up the note thoughtfully. Seeing Pansy's curious look, she said, "My aunt Lily's having her baby on Sunday."

Magic was quite reliable as far as predicting births, so if they said the baby would come Sunday, then come Sunday it would.

Pansy clapped her hands excitedly, "Oh, how wonderful, Rigel. You said it would be a girl, right? Have they come up with any names?"

"I…don't know," Rigel said, "Dad hasn't mentioned any."

"Well, maybe they'll send you a photograph in their next letter," Pansy said, smiling.

"My dad apparently wrote to the Headmaster to see if I could attend the birth," Rigel said.

Draco's eyebrows rose, "But you're not…I mean, you aren't immediate family, or even blood-related."

Rigel understood Draco's surprise. Traditionally only the husband and children attended births in wizarding society, with extended family and friends visiting the mother once she was out of the hospital.

"Lack of blood-ties doesn't really matter in our family," Rigel said, shrugging, "We're all immediate family to each other, I suppose."

"How nice," Pansy said serenely, "Well, I hope the Headmaster lets you go, then."

"Yes, so do I," Rigel said. It was true…sort of. She did want to see her little sister, but she wasn't sure if she could pull off being Archie for that long around all four of her family's adults. Sirius hadn't noticed her deceptions yet, which was a miracle in itself, but Remus was alarmingly observant at times.

Still, she supposed she'd better do one thing, at least.

After breakfast she caught up to Professor Snape before he left the Hall. They weren't allowed to go to their professors' offices alone any more, so most students had taken to pestering their teachers during meal times about any questions or concerns they had. It wasn't ideal, but the Professors put up with it with admirable tolerance.

"Professor Snape, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Snape paused and turned at the door, "Certainly. This way, Mr. Black."

He led her a very short distance from the Great Hall doors, to give her the semblance of privacy she supposed, and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"My aunt is expecting a child on Sunday," she began, but stopped when Snape jerked his head in a minute betrayal of surprise.

"And?" Snape said after a moment, his face as blank as stone.

"And," Rigel pulled her thoughts together after a moment of hesitation, "My father has written to the Headmaster to ask if I would be allowed to attend the birth."

"Your point, Mr. Black?" Snape said, the barest hint of impatience creeping into his tone.

Rigel kept her own face blank as well, "I thought I should ask your permission as well, since my father has presumably neglected to do so."

Snape didn't answer for a long moment, but when he did his voice was not nearly as impatient as before, "I see. Thank you for informing me of the situation, Mr. Black. I will of course defer to whatever the Headmaster deems best." If there was an ironic twist to the latter part of his words, they both ignored it.

Snape left quickly, his normally keen gaze distant and troubled by something. Maybe Rigel had caught him at a bad time?

Later that evening she was interrupted as she completed a Transfiguration essay—one of her own, for once—at one of the Library tables. It was the Headmaster, and though Rigel tried to stand he waved her back into her seat and quite casually took the seat across from her as well.

"How are you this evening, Mr. Black?" he asked kindly, peering at her over his half-moon spectacles.

"Well, Headmaster," Rigel said, "And yourself?"

Dumbledore seemed amused by her polite inquiry, "As well as can be expected in these troubled times."

"I'm sure we'll get the basilisk sorted out soon, Headmaster," Rigel said, though why she thought she should reassure Dumbledore of all people she didn't know.

"How interesting that you said 'we' instead of 'you,' Mr. Black," Dumbledore said mildly.

"We're all in this together, aren't we?" Rigel said evenly, "Neville is a good friend of mine, and almost everyone knows someone who's been petrified. All of us have to live with the fear of attack, as well, not to mention the way the students are constrained by the lack of extracurricular freedom. The basilisk affects everyone, so it only makes sense that everyone help to stop it."

"I quite agree, Mr. Black," Dumbledore said, smiling softly, "Cooperation is always the greatest tool at out disposal. But enough talk of the darkness, Mr. Black. I understand your family is expecting rather gladder tidings this weekend, are you not?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Rigel said, "My aunt is expecting a baby girl on Sunday. Did my father's note reach you?"

"Happily, it did," Dumbledore said, "And I see no reason why you should not be allowed to celebrate a new life with your family. If it is agreeable, your Head of House will escort you to St. Mungo's on Sunday morning, and will return to collect you that evening. You will travel by floo, and you will be expected to remain in your family's care until such time as you are returned to ours."

Rigel agreed, but said tentatively, "Is it…entirely wise to elect Professor Snape to escort me there? His relationship with my father and uncles is somewhat…problematic, as I understand it."

"So young to be so politically correct," Dumbledore chuckled, "But when you are old you will find that wisdom sometimes takes the appearance of incorrectness, at least to those who are not quite so wise as they might believe."

Rigel felt reprimanded, though she hadn't really understood all of what Dumbledore probably meant. "Forgive me, Headmaster."

"Not at all, Mr. Black," Dumbledore said, still smiling in that mildly genial way he had, "Suffice to say, dear boy, that I know something of the enmity between Professor Snape and your father, and I believe this weekend will do them both some good."

Rigel suddenly had the funny feeling that Dumbledore hadn't agreed to let her go for her own sake at all, but rather as part of some intrinsically complicated long-term plan known only to him. It was actually a scary realization, that someone with so much power gave the impression of being capable of so much manipulation. Rigel made a mental note to not get on Dumbledore's bad side. Ever.

It seemed to Rigel that their conversation was now concluded, yet Dumbledore made no move to rise from the table, apparently content to gaze about the Library curiously as though he didn't run the place.

Sensing that he was going nowhere anytime soon, despite the fact that not long ago he had told her bluntly that he was a very busy man, Rigel ventured to ask, "Any luck on finding a new Defense professor?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at her knowingly, "Not enjoying the lull, Mr. Black? It was my understanding that many of your classmates consider the current lack of classes to be the most productive time spent during Defense Against the Dark Arts all year."

Rigel tilted her head in wry acknowledgement, "Self study is good enough for me, but I'm sure the older students especially would appreciate a guiding hand before they take their examinations in a few months."

"Indeed, indeed," Dumbledore inclined his head solemnly, "Do not worry overmuch for your upperclassmen friends, however. I have arranged for a new Defense professor to start next week."

"Oh?" Rigel said, interested, "May I ask who?"

"Oh, no one special," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, "I am quite looking forward to it, though. It's been too long since I participated actively in the molding of young, eager minds. I wonder if I remember how to use the chalkboard…"

Rigel blinked in surprise, "You're going to teach us yourself?"

"Just until the end of the school year," Dumbledore said, smiling benignly.

Rigel was a bit confused, considering Dumbledore was surely too busy to teach about seven classes a day, but more importantly...

"What about the curse?" she asked, concerned. She wasn't sure she believed in the curse—after all, Quirrell had been fired for a perfectly defensible reason, and Lockhart was clearly a victim of opportunity—but if there was really a curse on the position, it would be not good if Dumbledore fell victim to it.

Dumbledore just kept twinkling at her with an air of superior amusement, "I doubt the curse will catch up to me in the few months left of the term. I fully intend to find a new instructor for the fall, so the curse will be satisfied de facto in any case."

Rigel wasn't sure it worked like that, if there was indeed a curse, but she was not about to disagree with the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who held more power in his little finger than she would ever envy him for. A man like Dumbledore, so used to the burden of great responsibilities, surely knew what he was talking about.

And if he didn't, Rigel Black would certainly not be the one to tell him otherwise.

All at once Dumbledore jumped with exaggerated surprise, and said, "Ah, I see. Must be going, I'm afraid, Mr. Black. I will inform your Head of House of the details for this coming Sunday. Simply present yourself to Professor Snape that morning after breakfast. Goodbye."

He stood and ambled out of the Library without another word, not even pausing long enough to await her reply. Rigel went back to studying with a quiet shrug. She would probably never understand Dumbledore, and there was no need to give herself a headache trying.

She was just getting back into the essay she was writing when a pair of hands temporarily blinded her.

"Guess who?" said a cheerful voice from behind her.

"Hello, Ginny," Rigel said, waiting patiently for Ginny to remove her hands.

The redheaded girl rounded the table and plopped down in the seat Dumbledore had so recently vacated and propped her chin in her hand. "So, what's up?" she asked, an expectant look on her face.

Rigel gestured down to her essay with a tilt of her head, "Just schoolwork. How is your evening?"

Ginny shrugged dismissively, "Obviously. I meant, what was it you wanted?"

Rigel blinked slowly, not sure what Ginny was referring to.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "When you tried to talk to me about something, but I was busy, remember? Merlin, Rigel, did you forget already? Can't keep a conversation in your head for a couple of days?"

Rigel frowned as she remembered that Ginny never had gotten back to her about the Occlumency technique she had been experimenting with. "It's been over a week," Rigel felt compelled to point out in her defense, "But I could still use your input, if you're not busy now."

Ginny frowned slightly, "A week? Time really flies this time of year. I guess I got so busy with school and everything…hmm, well, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

Rigel wasn't sure what 'everything' was, since as far as she knew Ginny didn't participate in any extracurricular activities, and even if she did they would have been suspended due to impending basilisk, but she reminded herself pointedly that she barely knew what her own best friends did in their free time. For all she knew, Ginny could be the president of a secret society devoted to freeing house elves from wizarding service or something equally unlikely.

"Well, the last time we talked about Occlumency you mentioned something that I've been thinking about," Rigel said, "A sort of guardian for your mind, I think you called it—"

"Oh, that," Ginny flicked a strand of hair out of her face nonchalantly, "I'm not sure what I was thinking that day. Honestly, a miniature consciousness that exists solely to protect your head from invasion? Get real, right?"

Rigel felt her brow pucker slightly, and said, "It's not entirely implausible, and it's definitely one of the most creative ideas I've heard in terms of mental defense. I haven't read of anything like it in the books I've studied on the subject."

"That's because it's impossible," Ginny said, "You can't just make something like that like you can make an illusion in your head. You'd have to actually absorb another consciousness for it to—ouch!" she clutched at her head suddenly, and hissed in a breath through her teeth, "Ow, sorry, I just got the mother of all headaches. I think I've been stressing my eyes lately, studying for exams and such. I suppose it finally caught up to me."

Rigel was a bit taken aback by Ginny's sudden onslaught of obvious pain, and her subsequently speedy defense of it, and said, "Do you want me to walk you to Madam Pomphrey's office?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, rubbing at her temple absently. "Even if I wanted to choke down some vile concoction of medi-wizardry, I certainly wouldn't need you to walk me there," she said bluntly.

"Of course," Rigel said, not offended by Ginny's unapologetic independence, "Perhaps we should continue this another time?"

"No, no," Ginny said, "It's passing. I'll stay and chat, if you still want to. The whole idea is silly, though, to be honest."

Rigel merely lifted a shoulder in a non-committal way, "Maybe. What makes you think it's impossible, though?"

"I don't know, common sense?" Ginny said, lifting an eyebrow, "I mean, if magic could make things like that, you'd be able to make a human being out of magic, but you can't. All you get is cheap imitations."

"But that's the point, isn't it?" Rigel said, frowning slightly, "To create a decent imitation of sentience, so that the guardian can act and think on its own, but is still ultimately bound to the mind that created it—not a true consciousness, of course, just real enough to pose a threat."

Ginny pursed her lips, "I suppose…still, even that much would be awfully difficult. And if it was tied to your mind's command, then it would be your mind defending itself in the end anyway, just like it always had been. By the time you got good enough to create a semi-sentient magical construct, you probably could have learned to just defend your mind the normal way, by keeping constant shields up, right?"

Rigel tilted her head in acknowledgement, "Good point. I'm not far enough in my experiments to decide whether it would be faster to concentrate on developing my understanding of mental energies or if it would be better to play to my strengths, mentally speaking, and devote all my energy to magically constructed defenses."

Ginny looked taken aback, "Experiments? What, you're serious about all this? I thought it was all hypothetical."

"It is until I get a result that works," Rigel said unconcernedly, "The idea's still in the formulative stages. It might never end up working, in any case. I just wanted to see what you thought of it, since you seem to have a natural grasp of the mental arts."

Ginny wrinkled her nose and waved a hand in a parody of modesty, "If I do have a grasp on it, it's all instinctual. I really don't understand much yet. But it feels like what you're talking about is impossible, if that helps."

Rigel nodded agreeably, though internally she was resisting the urge to sigh with disappointment. It looked like she'd be figuring out how to mimic sentience on her own as well, since Ginny didn't seem terribly inclined to join in on Rigel's experiments. "Thanks for taking the time to listen anyway," Rigel said politely.

Ginny shrugged back at her, "No problem. I only came to the Library to get away from my brothers, so I had an hour to kill."

Rigel thought that if she was as rundown and stressed out as Ginny's pale face and slightly sunken eyes revealed the redheaded girl to be, she would be taking advantage of an hour in the Library either to continue studying or to sleep, but perhaps Ginny was sick of studying for the day, or too anxious about the basilisk to sleep properly.

Ginny sat there tapping her foot agitatedly for a few moments, then abruptly stood and said, "I should get going. Things to do, you know. See you, Rigel."

"Good evening," Rigel said, nonplussed as Ginny unknowingly echoed Dumbledore's earlier exit.

Rigel reflected that the people around her were unnaturally blunt that day, and went back to her studying.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

That night she dreamed.

She was in her lab, working quietly on her favorite potion. It didn't have a proper name, because it was a hybrid potion her Uncle Remus had invented while still in school. It wasn't particularly difficult to brew, and the only thing it was good for was turning someone's skin the color of whatever food they last ate, but it was still her favorite.

Once, back when she had just begun studying potions seriously, her dad came back from Remus' house sorely disappointed. He wanted Remus to make that very potion for a prank he and Sirius were planning, but the moon had been particularly demanding that month, and Remus was too exhausted to do anything. Harry searched through the old potions notes she had borrowed from her uncle the week before and eventually found the recipe for the skin-changing potion. It was the first potion she ever tried to brew on her own, without her mother's supervision, and when she presented it to her father he beamed down at her like she had done something truly splendid.

It was the first time she felt useful for having brewed a potion, and time and familiarity would never dull the sense of fond nostalgia she had for that particular recipe.

In her dream she stood before a cauldron as big as a bathtub and so deep she couldn't see the bottom. She stirred it slowly, a small smile on her face as it bubbled cheerfully and clung to her stirring rod impertinently.

Then, without warning, she was blind. Her eyes were open but only blackness greeted her. She clutched the side of the cauldron to steady herself in the darkness, but it was boiling hot, and she cried out and flinched back when it burned her hand.

"Hush, child, there's no need for dramatics," said a taunting voice behind her.

Harry froze, "Who's there?"

"Guess who," said the voice in what would have been a sing-song tone if it wasn't so hard-edged. Then there was laughter, crazed, echoing laughter, "Go on, guess. You know, don't you? So guess!"

Harry shook her head blindly, "I don't know."

"You don't want to know," the voice said. It was female, and sharp with impatience. Harry stiffened as she felt fingers wrap around her head from behind, "Guess, Rigel."

"Ginny," Harry said, relieved, "Of course, it's just you, Ginny."

"Is it?" the voice laughed and the hands were removed. Harry could see again, and she whirled, but it wasn't Ginny behind her.

It was a basilisk. She stared into its huge yellow eyes in shock, and felt her whole body freeze. She had been petrified. Her limbs stiffened—she couldn't move, she couldn't get away! The basilisk swept its tail around and knocked her backwards. She fell straight into the bubbling cauldron, down, down into the murky depths. She couldn't even feel her body as it sank, beyond a sense of slow, inevitable suffocation.

Then a hand reached in and hauled her out. She broke the surface of the water, and realized she was in Grimmauld Place's underground pool. Archie pulled her the rest of the way out of the water and up onto the stairs. "What are you doing, Harry? We're late!"

He ran off upstairs and Harry ran after him. Her clothes were dry now, but they weren't her potions robes. She was dressed in a long summer skirt, instead. Archie led her through the floo and they emerged at St. Mungo's hospital.

Harry looked around with confusion, "Are we here to get my hand healed?" she asked, looking down at her palm, which was still red from having burned it on the cauldron.

Archie frowned at her, "Not everything is about you, Harry. We're here to see the new baby, of course. If you weren't always doing something else, you'd know these things."

"Oh," Harry said, following Archie down a hallway, "Sorry."

Archie opened one of the doors and Harry saw her mother propped up in bed, holding a pretty baby girl with long, red hair and bright green eyes. James turned from his place at his wife's side and said, "There you are, Archie, what took you?"

"I don't remember," Archie said, "Is that her? My new cousin?"

"Come and see, Archie," Remus beckoned Archie over toward the bed, where Sirius made room for him to stand close.

"She's so beautiful, isn't she?" Lily said, smiling fondly down at the infant, "So smart, too. She can talk already."

Harry walked forward to see better. As she drew near, the baby girl opened her mouth and a long string of hisses came out. "The baby speaks Parseltongue?" Harry gasped.

"What's this?" James was suddenly frowning fiercely, "How can this be? Lily, what have you done?"

Lily's eyes were wide and pleading, "Nothing, James, I don't know—"

"Woah, mate, it wasn't me," Sirius said, backing up, "I would never…"

"Then how does the child speak Parseltongue?" James spat, "Unless you're suggesting that Archie is mine, the two children must have a common parent! Sirius, how could you? I thought we were friends."

"We are! I didn't sleep with Lily, I swear," Sirius said.

"I don't believe you," James said. He stomped from the room, yelling, "We're through!" over his shoulder as he left.

Lily burst into tears, and Harry hurried to her side. She reached out to pat her mother's shoulder, but Lily cringed away from her.

"No, you can't take my baby!" she cried, hysterically, "She's all I have left of him!"

"I wasn't—" Harry started, but the scene dissolved without warning.

She was standing in front of her house, in Godric's Hollow. Her parents were in front of it, arguing over who was going to live there. James pulled out his wand.

"Fine, then I guess neither of us can have it," he snarled. Flames shot from his wand and engulfed the house in seconds. Lily burst into tears and fled, clutching her newborn child to her and dissipating. James disappeared as well, and Harry looked around the empty street with confusion.

"What about me?" she said to the burning house.

She waited, but no one came to put out the flames or tell her where to go. Eventually she got up and wandered around until she came to a familiar street. It was Dogwood lane, and the apartment she'd rented was up ahead. She hurried inside, suddenly cold and tired, but when she stepped into the house it wasn't any warmer.

The whole place was empty, no furniture, no anything. Harry felt like crying when she realized that all of her potion things had been inside her parents' house when it burned. She sank to the dusty floor and hugged her knees to her chest, staring at the front door.

No one came through it.

Then she realized that no one was going to come for her. Her friends didn't know she was lost, her family didn't know who she was, and no one knew where to find her. And that was her fault, because she'd never told them.

"I'm all alone," she told the empty house.

"No, you're not."

The voice wasn't coming from anywhere.

"You'll never be alone."

It was coming from inside of her. She peered down at saw a ball of fire where her stomach was supposed to be.

"I'm the only thing you can't escape."

The fire was speaking to her. It rippled and shifted, then it became smooth as glass and as she looked into it she could see her own face. But the face in the fire-mirror was smirking, and it shimmered with an aura of pure magic.

"Don't you see? I'm all that's left when the world leaves you behind."

Harry shook her head, but her reflection stayed still, just gazing pityingly at her.

"Poor dear," it said condescendingly, "Don't you recognize yourself anymore?"

"You're not me," Harry said, voice shaking.

"Maybe I'm not the part you admit to," her reflection shrugged, "But never doubt that I'm in here, waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Harry asked.

"Freedom."

Rigel woke with sweat on her forehead and a denial on her lips. She gasped for air quietly, aware of her two sleeping roommates. Two, because Draco was standing between their beds, very much awake, with one arm outstretched toward her.

"Oh," he said quietly, lowering his hand, "I was about to wake you. All right?"

Rigel nodded, "Just fine."

Draco snorted, "You're a rotten liar, Rigel. Scoot over."

He made shooing motions with his hands and Rigel obligingly moved to the side of her bed, noticing as she did that Draco had lit the smallest lamp before she awoke. "I'm really okay, Draco," Rigel said uncomfortably, "You don't need to…console me, or anything."

Draco grimaced as he situated himself on the other side of the bedspread, "I wasn't going to. I'm just not tired anymore, and you probably won't be going back to sleep, so we might as well keep each other company."

"In the same bed?" Rigel said skeptically.

"Don't say it like that," Draco rolled his eyes, "It's stupid to talk across beds when the others are asleep. We'll either wake them up or be too quiet to hear one another."

"We could go to the common room," Rigel pointed out.

"The fires will be out by now," Draco said, "I'm not getting cold just because you're allergic to basic human contact."

"I'm not—"

"Then stop acting like it."

Rigel narrowed her eyes, but remained silent and didn't complain when Draco reached back proprietarily to fluff up her pillow to his liking.

"So," Draco said after making himself comfortable, "Tell me about your dream."

"No," Rigel said calmly.

Draco scowled, "Why is it that you can say no to me, but not to Rosier?"

Rigel lifted an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Draco huffed.

"If I did, I wouldn't waste air asking," Rigel said, "So explain."

Draco peered at her through the semi-darkness. He looked skeptical, but after a moment he sighed and grudgingly said, "That day when we were all stuck in the common room, everyone could see you didn't want Rosier messing with you, but you let him anyway. Why?"

"I didn't see a way out of it," Rigel shrugged.

Draco stared at her, "You could have just said 'no' like you did with me."

Rigel cast about her brain for the right words, "It's just…I couldn't think of a good reason to say no, I guess. If I said no he would have asked why not, and what could I say? 'I just let Pansy braid my hair but I take exception to letting you unbraid it?' Rosier is annoying sometimes, but he's also sort of my friend, and it would have been rude to blatantly reject his overtures of friendship just because it made me uncomfortable."

Draco looked frustrated, "Ignoring the fact that friendship had nothing to do with those 'overtures,' Rigel, tell me this: if I asked you to do something that made you uncomfortable, would you do it just because we're friends?"

Rigel let her gaze move pointedly from Draco, to her bed, to the pillow Draco was nestled against, and back to Draco's face. She raised an eyebrow and Draco narrowed his eyes.

"I see," Draco said, his voice tight with something Rigel couldn't yet define, "And what if I asked you to do something dangerous? What if I wanted you to do something against your principals? Would you just do whatever anyone asked as long as you didn't want to hurt their feelings?"

Rigel frowned, "Of course I wouldn't."

"Good," Draco muttered.

"Because you'd never ask me to do something like that," Rigel said, feeling that the answer was obvious, "I wouldn't care about hurting your feelings if you were the kind of person to ask that of your friends."

"That's not—" Draco growled quietly, "You're missing the point."

"Then what's the point, Draco?" Rigel asked.

"The point is that you can't just do things because other people want you to," Draco said, his voice soft but vehement, "Even if they're people you trust not to want you to do dangerous or unpleasant things. If you start doing that now, you'll do it for your whole life, and no one can live like that, Rigel. You should make every single choice because it's what you want, and for no other reason."

"Life doesn't really work like that, Draco," Rigel said.

"Yes, it does," Draco insisted, "You just don't understand because you don't know how to be selfish."

Rigel pursed her lips but couldn't quite suppress the cynical, humorless smile that tugged at her lips. If only Draco knew how selfish she could be. Selfish enough to endanger her own cousin, her entire family, really, just to pursue one farfetched dream.

She sighed, worn out from her strange nightmare and Draco's persistent questioning.

"Okay, but so what, Draco? Why does is bother you if I don't like disappointing people? That should make things easier for you, if anything," Rigel said tiredly.

Draco was silent long enough that Rigel turned her head fully towards him and frowned questioningly. His silver eyes glinted in the lamplight, and each word came slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to make sure she heard every one, "I don't want our friendship to be easy, Rigel. I want it to be real."

Rigel's eyes softened without her conscious input, "It is real, Dray."

Draco's face was pinched with disbelief, so Rigel turned on the bed to face him, looking earnestly into his closed off face, "I know I lie to you a lot, Draco, and I'm probably not going to stop anytime soon—"

He snorted with begrudging amusement and shook his head.

"—but right now I'm telling you the truth." Rigel took a steadying breath, then said, "In the beginning, I only became friends with you because it was too much work to avoid you all the time." Draco flinched ever so slightly, and Rigel pulled him into a bracing hug that she ended just as swiftly, "But that was before I got to know you, before you and Pansy made my life interesting and funny and not just full of constant studying. By October I really was your friend, and since then our friendship has only gotten stronger. Dray, don't ever think that just because I'm an apathetic, antisocial idiot that I don't care about you and Pansy. I do. I promise, I do."

Draco's face was blank, but he was utterly motionless as he listened to her talk. Eventually he swallowed and said, "Say you're an idiot again."

Rigel rolled her eyes, "I'm an idiot."

"And say you won't let Rosier push you around anymore," Draco said stiffly.

"Draco…" Rigel bit the inside of her lip. She wanted to make Draco happy, but she didn't want to make an enemy out of a powerful upperclassman for no reason, "Why does it bother you so much?"

"Because he's upsetting you, and that upsets me, but I can't do anything to make him stop if you don't tell him it's upsetting you," Draco blurted, glaring at her once more.

Rigel turned her head towards the wall, "I'm not upset."

"You were obviously uncomfortable," Draco argued.

"Why would I be?" Rigel said stubbornly, "I let Pansy do my hair. It's no different."

"It is," Draco said, just as stubbornly.

"Why?"

"Don't ask me," Draco hissed, "It's different because you obviously think it is, otherwise you wouldn't be so uncomfortable with it."

"That…" Rigel shook her head, "Can we just drop it?"

"We always drop it," Draco said, "You never want to talk about it, and I can't say anything because I'm not even sure what's really wrong—"

"There's nothing wrong."

"—and—be quiet," Draco said, "There is too something wrong, I just don't know what it is."

"Draco," Rigel ran a hand through her short hair, "I think we've gotten off topic. Just…okay, I can see you're not going to let this go, so will you just explain, clearly, what you're talking about so I can explain why you're wrong?"

Draco scrubbed his hands in his own hair with frustration, "All right. Okay. First, I have to ask: Rigel, does your father hit you?"

Rigel was so stunned that for a moment she couldn't even speak, "I—what? No!"

"Shh!" Draco glanced toward their dorm mates, who were luckily still sleeping, "Sorry, but I had to get that explanation out of the way first. I didn't think so—you're too relaxed around him, and he's so obviously fond of you—but…I had to check, you know?"

"Not really," Rigel said, scowling slightly, "That's not something you just ask someone, Draco. If the wrong person heard you ask, it wouldn't matter if it was true or not."

Draco lifted an eyebrow, "Why do you think I asked now, in the middle of the night in our dorm room, and not at the Great Hall table a couple months ago when the idea first occurred to me?"

Rigel was taken aback, "So…I eat breakfast like an abused person?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Don't be stupid. It was Millicent, actually. She came up behind us and put an arm around each of our shoulders, and you stiffened up and flinched for a moment before relaxing. I would have missed it, but I was looking at you anyway because you were explaining the potions homework to Theo," Draco's eyes drifted to the bedspread as he thought, "After that, I just started noticing how much you avoided other people. I mean, you sat with us and talked with us, but you almost never initiated physical contact, and when someone touched you unexpectedly, you'd twitch a bit. If you were expecting it, though, you'd be too relaxed, like you were forcing yourself not to react."

Rigel pressed her lips together, "Not everyone is demonstrative with affection."

"That's true," Draco said seriously, "I know a kid who openly distains physical contact with others, but it's because from birth he was raised in a notoriously reserved family. Your dad gives out hugs like Dumbledore gives out lemon drops, though, so you aren't repressed because of the environment you grew up in—don't you see why it's confusing? But I don't know what the problem is, so I can't figure out how to help."

"I don't need help," Rigel snapped. She squeezed her eyes shut and scrubbed at them, saying, "I'm not repressed, Draco, for Merlin's sake. Just because I don't sew my feelings into a flag and wave them around for the world to see doesn't mean I can't recognize them and express them in a healthy and meaningful way. You're accusing me of being some kind of emotional defect—like a muggle robot or something."

"I'm not—"

"You are," Rigel said, lowering her voice again as she remembered where they were, "It's like you don't think I'm human."

Draco's face dropped into apologetic regret. He reached for her and Rigel stiffened without thinking. Draco clenched the hand that had been outstretched between them into a fist and dropped it forcefully onto the mattress, "That's what I'm talking about, Rigel." His jaw clenched and he blinked hard several times, "I would never hi-it you." His voice broke in the middle of the word 'hit' and he flushed darkly as he looked away.

Rigel hesitated, but now was not the time for maintaining a safe distance. She shifted over on the bed and wrapped an arm awkwardly around Draco's shoulders, "I know that, Draco. I never once imagined you'd hit me. I don't like being touched, but it's not because I'm afraid of being hit. I could never be afraid of you."

Draco's shouldered remained stiff under her arm and he kept his gaze stubbornly averted, "Then why, Rigel? You know exactly what I'm talking about; I can hear it in your voice. So just tell me, okay? No more dancing around it."

Rigel did know what he meant. In truth she was extremely careful about becoming too physically familiar with her friends. It wasn't really a problem right now, because even though she was sure budding female anatomy came right along with starting her monthly cycle, she was under the effects of the long-term Polyjuice, so any developments would be undetectable until she updated the Polyjuice that summer. In a few years, however, even infusing the Polyjuice hair with as much of Archie's male traits as she could, her anatomy would not be entirely disguised as long as she remained female.

She could turn herself into a male completely with the use of Polyjuice, but the use of Polyjuice across genders for a prolonged period of time hadn't been well documented yet. Part of it was because it was taboo to Polyjuice into someone of the opposite sex, and part of it was because no one wanted to take the risk that the delicate reproductive organs would be damaged irrevocably with prolonged suppression to test the theory. It was already a strain on the body to remain Polyjuiced for any amount of time longer than fifteen months, and Rigel would have to step up her exercise regime next year to compensate for that, but to actually force her body to assume male genitalia for six years…the risk was simply too great to justify if she could avoid it.

So she was careful about how close she got to people now, so that in a few years when she couldn't be lax about letting her friends touch her it wouldn't be abnormal or suddenly suspicious behavior. She thought that if she was diligent now, she would avoid suspicion in the long run.

Apparently, she'd been so paranoid about maintaining her physical boundaries that she'd come off as suspicious anyway by being hyper-aware of every minor invasion of space. It was times like this that Rigel wished there was a handbook for people who wanted to remain in disguise indefinitely, like deep-cover spies, because now she somehow she had to come up with an explanation for Draco that would satisfy his confusion, offer a long-term and sustainable explanation for her behavior, and most importantly not upset Draco any further.

Rigel considered telling Draco the truth—namely, that she couldn't tell him why she acted the way she did. While it would ease her conscience to avoid lying, she also knew that such an answer would only make her friend more frustrated and determined to figure out the underlying cause.

In the end, Rigel decided a lie was better for all involved.

"I have a physiological condition that makes it difficult for me to let others touch me," Rigel said eventually. She defended her words mentally by thinking that at least that was almost the truth—that is, if one considered female anatomy to be a physiological condition, and if one also considered the awkward social effects of disguising said anatomy to be a kind of difficulty…well, it was sort of true. If you stretched the definition of truth until it was more like the definition of untruth. At least it was vague enough to be inconclusive, with the added benefit of hinting at some underlying insecurity that would make her softhearted friends reluctant to pry too far.

Indeed, Draco's eyes already held something like sympathy in their silver depths at he looked over at her, "Is that why you don't like Healers?" he asked, "Because they remind you of it?"

"Sort of," Rigel said, warming up to the half-true tale she was spinning on the spot, "It's just rather personal, and I prefer not to regale every Healer I meet with my medical history."

Draco's eyes widened in understanding, "Madam Pomphrey doesn't know, and you avoid her so she won't find out about…your condition."

Rigel shrugged one shoulder in what she hoped was a noncommittal way.

Draco turned beneath her arm and wrapped his own arms around her torso, "I'm sorry, Rigel, but thank you for telling me."

Rigel awkwardly patted Draco on the back, and the blonde boy started and jerked back from her suddenly, "I'm sorry! You just told me, but I wasn't thinking—does it hurt?"

Rigel shook her head slowly, feeling guilty but a bit amused at Draco's earnest reaction. It was actually quite endearing, "It isn't painful. It's just…mildly uncomfortable. Most of the time I can ignore it, but when I'm not prepared it sometimes takes me by surprise."

Draco nodded, accepting the answer because it fit with his observations—and why shouldn't it, when she'd tailored it so it would?

Draco settled back on her pillow and gazed up at the ceiling, "Is that why you sleep with your clothes on?"

"Yes," Rigel said immediately—why not cover for as many of her oddities at once with one lie?

"And why you don't let anyone see you changing," Draco said softly, "Is it…visible?"

Rigel lay back on her side of the bed with a sigh "Sometimes," she said, thinking that now it sounded like she had some sort of easily irritated skin rash. Maybe she should pretend to itch herself every now and then to subtly confirm Draco's impressions?

"Oh," Draco said. They lay there for a couple of minutes, neither saying anything. "If you ever need to talk about it…well, you know."

"Yes, I know," Rigel said, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

"My family has a really good Healer," Draco said tentatively, "I don't know who you've seen, but maybe—"

"Thanks," Rigel said softly, "But there's nothing anyone can do. It's okay, though. Really, it hardly bothers me."

"I won't tell Pansy," Draco added sleepily, yawning and settling even deeper into Rigel's pillow, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, "If you don't want me to."

"Thanks," she whispered, closing her eyes wearily. Officially feeling like the worst friend in the world, she fell asleep to the sound of Draco's slow, soft breathing.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

She woke only a few hours later, to the sound of Theo laughing loudly.

The reason for his laughter became immediately apparent as Rigel opened her eyes to find that Draco, who was obviously used to more spacious sleeping accommodations, had shifted in his sleep and claimed the majority of the mattress for himself sometime in the last few hours. At the same moment Rigel became aware of a crick in her spine from the awkward way she was scrunched up against one side of the bed, while Draco sprawled indolently across the rest of it.

"Could have seen that one coming," Blaise said mildly on his way to one of the bathrooms.

"Did you mean Draco sneaking into Rigel's bed in the middle of the night, or Draco being a total mattress hog?" Theo asked mischievously.

Blaise just smirked cheekily and stuck his toothbrush in his mouth to illustrate that he wasn't going to clarify.

Rigel glared half-heartedly at her two other roommates, and winced as she sat up, massaging her lower back. She had half a mind to dump Draco on the floor, or else wake him with a bit of cold water from the sink, but as she remembered similarly rude awakenings at Grimmauld Place before she and Archie had learned to lock their doors during sleepovers, she sighed and prodded Draco's shoulder on her way out of bed instead.

"Wha—oh," Draco regained his wits remarkably quickly upon awakening. He glanced at his position, then at Rigel's mildly disgruntled expression, and grinned sheepishly up at her, "Sorry, Rye."

Rigel didn't have the heart to stay annoyed with her friend. It might have been the fact that his rumpled hair and sleepy expression made him seem entirely incapable of malice, or it might have been that Rigel knew him to be incapable of any strenuous emotion before his morning absolutions, but either way, Rigel decided she'd take a pain potion for her backache and forgive Draco for having grown up an only child.

Granted, she was an only child, too, but she and Archie had shared a bed more times than she could count. It had gotten to the point that their parents didn't even bother to tease them about it, because the jokes had gotten so old they were flat and predictable.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Telling Draco that her reservedness was partially due to a medical condition had both benefits and drawbacks, it turned out.

On the one hand, Draco completely respected her personal space, and even ran subtle interference when one of their classmates looked about to initiate physical contact as well. On the other hand, he took up a habit of sending her significant and slightly sympathetic looks every single time she went to a bathroom to change clothes or settled into bed fully dressed, and because their friends were Slytherins as well, every attempt by Draco to act subtly was blatantly transparent in their eyes.

On Sunday morning when Pansy put a hand on Rigel's arm to steady herself as she sat down at the breakfast table, Draco proprietarily grasped Pansy's opposite elbow to help her sit, which resulted in her becoming unbalanced from the unexpected change in equilibrium. Pansy had to awkwardly release Rigel's arm and lean on Draco instead, and when she was seated comfortably she turned a cool gaze on Draco and said, "If Rigel is disgusted by my touch I expect to hear it from him, Draco." She turned to Rigel and raised an eyebrow, "Well? Going to tell me why Draco is suddenly your personal body guard?"

Draco winced, and bowed his head apologetically to Rigel behind Pansy's back.

Rigel smiled slightly, "You presence could never do anything but enchant the things around you, Pansy. Draco is merely concerned for my virtue. He doesn't trust pre-pubescent females, you see, ever since…well, he doesn't like to talk about it."

Draco spluttered a denial and Pansy's lips turned upwards, "I should have known it was just Draco taking his delusions too far again," the blonde girl sighed. Her hair was braided again that day. Since she was growing it out, it was in an awkward stage between too long to wear down respectably and too short to pull back, so she had taken to securing it in double French braids instead.

"It's not his fault," Rigel said, "I really should have said something sooner, but I do so hate disappointing our Draco."

Pansy nodded sagely, "It can be difficult to deny the boy—something about those innocent eyes and earnest expression is just so heart-warming."

Draco scowled fiercely, "I am neither innocent nor heart-warming, and I would thank you not to make such heinous aspersions on my character within the hearing of my peers."

"I doubt anything they say will change our opinion of you, Draco," Blaise said mildly from across the table.

Draco narrowed his eyes, "That was an insult, wasn't it? I know about those kinds of statements. It relies on me having an overly inflated opinion of my own self-worth, which causes me to overlook the slight by thinking you were complimenting my already-existing merit when in fact you were implying you could never be fooled into thinking I had any to start with." He smirked triumphantly, and Rigel could tell by the tone of his voice—confident, proud, and a tiny bit fond—that this was something else his father had taught him.

Blaise smiled in an amused way, "Are you saying the insult didn't work because your understanding of yourself is good enough that it matches our own estimation of your worth?"

"Ye—" Draco snapped his mouth shut and thought for a moment, "No. I'm not falling for that either. It didn't work because I'm too smart for you."

"Clearly," Blaise said, openly grinning now.

"As much as I enjoy watching Mr. Malfoy flounder for words, it is time to go, Mr. Black," Professor Snape had approached the Slytherin table while they were talking.

"Give our regards to your father, Rigel," Pansy said, smiling with excitement even though she had never met Lily Potter, and would likely never meet her unborn child either.

"And my mother's," Draco added quickly, "She'll want to hear about the baby, so it might be easier if you just tell your father to write her."

She nodded easily and got up to follow her Head of House out of the hall.

Snape led her to his office, where he had a floo fireplace warded heavily against detection. Usually it wasn't even visible, but when Snape waved his wand the section of the wall where the fireplace was expanded smoothly to reveal the floo. Snape lit the heart with a negligent flick of his wand and summoned floo powder from behind his desk just as easily. He didn't speak until he tossed a handful of floo powder into the flames and said, "After you, Mr. Black."

Rigel stepped into the fireplace and said, "St. Mungo's Hospital." The Hospital floo could be accessed by simply saying 'St. Mungo's,' or by saying 'Hospital,' and was designed to be more forgiving in terms of vocal pattern recognition than most floo addresses due to the fact that many people who attempted to use the Hospital floo were in states of upset, but Sirius used to tell them that he'd once ended up in a Mongolian whorehouse because he mispronounced his floo destination, so Rigel made it a point to be careful.

Then again, Rigel reflected as the nauseating sensation of floo travel washed over her, when Remus told the story it turned out James had looked up the floo address for the Mongolian whorehouse in the floo directory and then told Sirius it was his grandmother's floo address as a prank.

She stumbled into the lobby and stood off to the side until Snape came through. There were five floo ports into St. Mungo's lobby, so it wasn't surprising that Snape appeared three fireplaces down from Rigel. She walked over to him and followed him to the receptionist desk.

"Maternity Ward," Snape said sharply, though the stern woman behind the desk, who reminded Rigel of Madam Pince, didn't bat a lash. Rigel supposed she'd seen it all.

"Name," the receptionist said, just as sharply.

"Potter."

Rigel hadn't known her last name could sound like poison, but she was suddenly a little more glad that she had met Professor Snape as Rigel Black instead of Harry Potter. Sirius always said Snape hated James more, but Rigel hadn't really registered that fact until she heard him spit her last name as though the very thought of the people attached to it both aggravated and disgusted him.

For one quiet moment she hoped Snape never found out who she was. She didn't think she could bear that tone of voice aimed at her.

"Room 839," the lady said with an unimpressed drawl.

With a short nod, Snape dismissed her and turned to Rigel, saying, "I will collect you at sunset."

Rigel nodded in agreement, glad that Snape, for all his obvious distain for her family, had a sense of discretion on a day like today. Or maybe he just didn't think he could stomach the site of his hated schoolmates.

Either way, Rigel wouldn't have to juggle Archie and Rigel's personalities, so she wasn't complaining.

She followed the signs up to the eighth floor and asked a passing medi-witch what hallway to take. Eventually she found herself outside room 839. She paused for a moment at the door, but quickly shook herself back to reality. Real life was nothing like her dreams.

She didn't knock, because Archie wouldn't dream of doing so, and she grinned brightly as she stuck her head inside, "Aunt Lily? You in there? Where's my new cousin?"

Lily was pacing, stomach bigger than ever, one hand on her lower back and the other holding James' hand as he paced alongside her. Sirius was lounging indolently at the foot of the hospital bed, and Remus was sitting in one of the chairs in the corner.

"Archie!" Sirius sprang up from the bed and rushed over to pull her into a hug. He squeezed a bit too tight, but Rigel only smiled up at him, "Just in time, I think Lily's about to re-define the color puce."

Lily, whose face was indeed darkly flushed and sweaty, glared at Sirius, "You better believe that once I'm not swelled up like a balloon I'm going to hunt you down and gut you for that, Sirius."

"Really, Sirius, haven't you any sense of self-preservation?" Remus shook his head without looking up from the manual he was pursuing, "Today of all days."

"I assumed she would be more mellow considering all the potions that half-baked medi-wizard has been shoving down her throat," Sirius said flippantly, shrugging elegantly as he gave Rigel's head a quick pat and went back to his place on the bed.

"I'll give you mellow, you overgrown mutt," Lily grumbled. James ran a soothing hand down Lily's hair and the redhead's face softened until she smiled tiredly. She went back to pacing without moving to strangle Sirius, so Rigel guessed her mother was making allowances for him considering their location. Sirius got along okay in the children's ward—enjoyed himself, even, goofing around with the kids who saw far too little joy—but he became seriously edgy when trapped in a patient room. It was a remnant of all the hours he spent in a room just like this one when Diana was sick. Rigel had only seen him like this a couple of times when one of her and Archie's mishaps had landed them with injuries too troublesome to deal with at home, but Sirius was markedly different in a hospital room.

He was more flippant, more sarcastic. His insults were just a hair too sharp, and his good cheer just a tad too forced. It amazed Rigel that Lily could show such consideration for her friend in the midst of her own personally trying situation—Rigel had never experienced labor, but it didn't look like a walk through the fairy meadow. Her mother was truly a kind-hearted person.

"Isn't that bed supposed to be sanitary?" Rigel asked Sirius, trying to channel Archie's inner Healer.

"You can sanitize it when I get off it, then," Sirius said, waving a hand negligently, "Or isn't the ungodly tuition James sends to that American school sowing any benefits yet?"

"Sirius," Remus admonished quietly, though even Rigel could tell his heart wasn't really in the rebuke. There was no point getting upset at Sirius when he was like this.

"What?" Sirius said, tucking his hands behind his head as he lounged across the non-porous mattress, "Seriously, I thought Archie was learning whatever Harry learned, isn't that how it's working? Might as well get your money's worth—you know James has to pay out-of-country tuition, don't you? I've no idea how the muggleborns can afford to send their kids abroad to study magic. Whole thing's a bad job."

"Harry's education is not even close to being a strain on our finances," James rolled his eyes at his friend, "And Archie can't do magic outside of school, even though it's not technically a holiday."

Sirius flicked a glance at James and snorted, "Never stopped us."

"That's not something to be proud of," Lily huffed out, rubbing small circles over her lower spine with a grimace as she walked, "I swear, you aren't getting your claws into this one, Sirius. I was too soft with Archie and Harry—no more. This kid is not going to be a trouble-maker."

"Harry's not a trouble-maker," James protested, "She's practically a saint, with the studying and the politeness and the—"

Lily snorted, "You've met our daughter, haven't you? You know, Harry, the unassuming one always standing right next to Archie when something goes terribly wrong? The girl whose idea it usually was in the first place? Our daughter is capable of unimaginable trouble. You're just lucky my good sense rubbed off on her too, or our parenting experiences might not have inspired us to have another one. Why did we have another one, by the way? I forgot how awful this was."

James muttered nonsense words meant to soothe, which in reality just made Lily roll her eyes and shake her head with exasperation.

Sirius sighed with boredom and Remus looked up in patient amusement, "Go get a coffee, Sirius, for Merlin's sake."

Sirius stood up and gestured to Rigel with a nod, "Come on, Arch, keep me company."

They walked in silence down the hallways. Rigel knew it was unusual for Archie to be so quiet, but she didn't know what to say. Eventually, it was Sirius who broke the silence first.

"Really shakes you up, this place," Sirius said, gesturing with a jerk of his hand at the white walls and cold, tiled floors, "Just…" he sighed, "You know I'm happy for your aunt, but I keep thinking, it could have been us, you know? Me and your mom. We always talked about more kids. My brother's a wet whistle most days, but I liked not being an only child. Still, I guess you've got Harry, haven't you?"

"I never felt lonely growing up, if that's what you mean," Rigel said reassuringly, "Honestly, how could I? This family is the best. And Aunt Lily's kid will be like another sister to me anyway. I'm happy with the life you've given me, Dad," she nudged Sirius in the side to emphasize her words, "Really, I couldn't ask for better."

Sirius pulled Archie into a one-armed hug as they walked, "Aw, shucks. You're too good for the likes of me, Arch. Always knew it. Your ma was the same."

Rigel felt very uncomfortable discussing Aunt Diana with Sirius, but she tried not to let it show on her face, "You just underestimate your goodness, Dad," she said, approximating Archie's effortless guile as she smiled winningly up at Sirius, "Or else you overestimate my own," she added cheekily.

Sirius laughed, and they lapsed into silence again.

"So what names are they considering?" Rigel asked.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Sirius glanced over with a sheepish expression, "They've already picked one, actually."

"Maybe you did," Rigel said easily, knowing full well that he hadn't, "You know I forget things."

"Like how you forgot to tell me you were a Parselmouth?" Sirius asked mildly.

Rigel's feet froze for a moment before she fell back into step, "About that, I was going to—"

"Hey, I understand," Sirius stopped to face her and put a hand on her shoulder, "Really, I get it. I might be hesitant to tell me, too, but I want you to know: it's not your fault. I don't think less of you for having a Dark Gift. If anything, I blame myself, because, well, let's face it—who knows what's swimming around the Black gene pool after all these years? So, don't feel guilty or anything for having it or for keeping it to yourself. Sometimes kids just like to have secrets, don't they? I remember. Makes you feel kind of special to know something no one else knows."

"I—" Rigel blinked a few times to order her thoughts, "I found out over Christmas break." No need to tell him which Christmas break. "At first I was just going to ignore it—I mean, who cares? But then everyone found out, and I was going to tell you, I just didn't want to put it in a letter, you know? I guess I should have known you'd hear about it anyway."

"Like I said, don't worry about it," Sirius said, "As far as I'm concerned, you're still Archie Black, same as always, only now you don't have an excuse not to help me with the snakes."

"Oh," Rigel said, "Thanks, Dad. Sorry I…well, thanks. About the snakes, though…I'd rather not use it if I don't have to. I mean, it's caused so much trouble already, so…is it okay if we just pretend I don't have it?"

"Don't look so worried, sport," Sirius grinned down at her and ruffled her hair before stepping into the elevator that would take them to the cafeteria, "We'll do whatever you want."

Rigel was glad her Parseltongue hadn't put another wedge in Sirius and Archie's relationship, but still…she couldn't help but think that Sirius's reaction to her gift, despite being couched in terms of understanding and acceptance, hadn't been nearly as comforting as he'd probably meant it. Her friends had been a bit over-enthusiastic about the whole thing, but they'd never made her feel like she was expected to be ashamed of it.

Not that Rigel could blame him. If Archie had turned up with Parseltongue, he may have felt exactly how Sirius expected her to, since Archie was well aware of his father's sometimes irrational dislike for all things that could possibly be associated with his Dark family upbringing. Not to mention the Hospital probably made it worse for Sirius to try and talk about things he already found depressing and distressing.

So she leaned over and hugged him fiercely before the elevator let them out at the cafeteria level, then said, "You never said what the name they decided on was, Dad."

Sirius smiled, but there was a hint of sadness to it, "They're naming her Adriana."

Rigel immediately connected the similarity between Adriana and Diana. She wasn't sure whether having a constant reminder of Aunt Diana would be good for Sirius or not, but she could see he was touched by the gesture.

"Adriana Potter," she said, trying it out, "Well, she'll need a nickname. Adriana's a bit of a mouthful for anyone not at least thirty."

"Ana?" Sirius suggested.

"Too uppity," Rigel shook her head, imitating Archie's propensity for snap decisions.

"Ree?"

Rigel made a face, "Sounds like a bird call."

"You're awfully picky when it comes to nicknames," Sirius observed, grinning teasingly, "You come up with one, then."

Rigel wasn't about to suggest Dana, Diane, or anything too close to the original inspiration for the name, so she said, "Addy."

"Addy?" Sirius smacked his lips as if chewing the word over, "Addy. Well that will work until she's at least…three."

Rigel bumped Sirius with her elbow, "I think it's cute."

"Well, then you can tell Lily why you nicknamed her kid after an adder before she was even born," Sirius said.

"No problem," Rigel said breezily, "I'll only have to put up with Aunt Lily's ire for about two minutes before you say something worse and I'm off the hook."

Sirius winced, "I really should know better than to antagonize women right before they go into labor. I still have nightmares about Harry's birth."

Rigel was skeptical. She'd never heard of anything traumatic happening on her birthday, "I'm sure it wasn't that bad. Aunt Lily doesn't even know any good curse words."

Sirius shook his head earnestly while they got in line for the buffet, "Believe it or not, Lily' tongue is the least of your worries once she gets going. When she was younger, her magic was extremely volatile."

"Like Harry's," Rigel said, thinking she'd inherited unruly magic from her mother.

"Harry? No, Harry's a lamb in comparison," Sirius said, "Harry's hardly ever broke free from her control as a kid. Apparently Lily used to have meltdowns about once a month before she got proper schooling. I didn't know her that well before James married her, but I met her a few times on Platform 9 ¾, and James just seemed to have a way of setting her off…" Sirius grinned in remembrance, "In our fifth year, James asked Lily to marry him—again, mind you, he did it every year when he saw her on the platform—and she just snapped. Guess she'd been having a bad week. I could actually feel the magic pouring off of her that day, if that gives you any indication, and James…well, I think he truly fell in love with her in that moment. The next moment, he went flying through the air. Lily's magic pushed him all the way onto the train, into a compartment, threw his luggage in after him, and locked him inside for good measure."

Sirius broke off into peels of laughter, ignoring the censuring looks from some of the other cafeteria customers, who apparently didn't think a Hospital was any place for laughter.

Rigel was thinking hard. It sounded like her mother's magic had been similar to her own, except she had hers more intensively repressed than Lily had. She wondered when her mother's magic had mellowed, because Rigel had never seen Lily lose control of it growing up. She'd have to ask when she was Harry again.

"Why did Lily keep coming to Platform 9 ¾?" Rigel asked, "I mean, if James annoyed her so much."

Sirius raised his eyebrows, "I'm sure I've mentioned it before, Arch—you really are forgetful, aren't you? Well, back then airplanes weren't well trusted by the magical community. Those traveling to AIM and Salem's Institute from London took a train as well, and since it would be a bit pointless to build two secret platforms in one station, the trains left from the same platform."

"At the same time?" Rigel frowned, "Wouldn't that be confusing? What if people got on the wrong train?" She decided she wouldn't even touch the issue of how a train was supposed to cross an ocean. She had learned long ago that wizards often did things the impossible way, instead of, say, reserving a public floo station, just because they could.

"No, the train to America left an hour later, I think," Sirius said, screwing up his face into his thinking expression.

"So couldn't Aunt Lily have just stopped showing up too early if she really wanted to avoid Uncle James?" Rigel asked, "Or did she secretly fancy him even then?"

Sirius snorted, "No secret how Lily felt back then—she really couldn't stand your Uncle James. Every year he'd get down on bended knee and ask for her hand, and every year she yelled at him like a banshee to leave her alone. But as to why she was early—" Sirius broke off abruptly, "Doesn't matter anymore."

"What does that mean?" Rigel frowned.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Sirius said, waggling his eyebrows.

Rigel let it go, because even the implied possibility of inappropriate information about her parents turned her stomach, but she was well aware that Sirius was only diverting her curiosity because he didn't want to answer. She would just have to ask her mother herself when she went home for the summer.

They paid for their food and chatted about other things while they ate. Classes, Quidditch—Sirius was horrified to learn that matches had been postponed indefinitely until the basilisk was caught. More horrified, in fact, than he was when Rigel told him there was a basilisk roaming about the school.

"Never seen one," Sirius said, "Bet it'd be worth a look."

"Not if it was the last thing you ever saw," Rigel pointed out wryly.

Sirius blinked at her, "Well, someone has been writing to Harry too often. Normally I'd say, 'why so Sirius, son?' but I would never be that fatalistically blunt."

Rigel let her lips smile sheepishly, "Yeah, guess so. But shouldn't you be more…I don't know, worried about a giant basilisk running about your son's boarding school?"

"Well if it's a basilisk I doubt it really runs anywhere," Sirius said reasonably. At Rigel's raised eyebrow he chuckled, "Archie, Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of our time. If evil is stupid enough to show itself right under the Headmaster's nose, you can be sure it won't be around to annoy you for long. Dumbledore will take care of the basilisk. You just keep your Quidditch game up for when the cup is reinstated."

And Rigel's still-troubled expression, Sirius sighed and said, "Look, I learned my lesson last year, okay? I'd forgotten how much trouble I got into as a kid until I was getting letters from the Headmaster about kids dropping into comas. I was so worried last year, but you came home safe and sound, just like Dumbledore said you would. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I remember how much didn't get sent home about what went on at school, but nothing really bad every happened to us there. So I could spend all my time worrying about you, or I could trust you, and trust Dumbledore, to stay safe and act in your best interests."

Rigel absorbed that thoughtfully. On the one hand, Sirius was more trusting of Dumbledore than even Rigel had realized, but on the other, a lack of questions on Sirius' part could only be a good thing as far as her secrets were concerned.

When they were finished, they went back up to the maternity ward to find several Healers in Lily's suite.

"Is it time already?" Sirius said cheerfully, seeing Lily propped up on the bed, "Also, I hope you sanitized that first."

"Already?" Lily growled, "I've been having abdominal spasms for hours, Sirius."

"Yeah, but…actually, I guess I can give you that one," Sirius said thoughtfully, "Well, if you need me I'll be outside." Without further ado, Sirius wished Lily good luck, told James not to faint again, and left the hospital room quickly.

"You'd think someone who was both an Auror and a part-time Hospital volunteer would have a stronger stomach," Remus said thoughtfully, "But I suppose he'd be more hindrance than anything at this point. Is there something I can do to help, Lily?"

"As much as I appreciate the offer," Lily grunted, "Please get your well-meaning butt out of my birthing room."

Remus quirked a small smile, "As you wish, mother-to-be. Take care of her, James."

James nodded from his position next to the head of the bed. He was holding Lily's hand and looked to be psyching himself up for a battle that he fully expected to come out on the wrong side of.

"Should I…?" Rigel trailed off. She wanted to be there for her mother, but Archie wasn't really Lily's kid, so it might be a little strange if she stayed after Sirius left.

"Do you really want to watch?" Lily asked bluntly.

Rigel's eyes widened as the realization of what was actually about to happen set in. She had a vague idea of childbirth, of course, but…thinking about it in the immediate, practical sense was frankly unnerving.

"Call us when you're recovered, Aunt Lily," Rigel said, trying not to grimace, "Good luck. Be careful," she added to the Healers on her way out, because Archie would definitely have said the same.

They waited in the hall for a while, but eventually the three of them couldn't pace anymore so they retreated to a small waiting room just down the hall. It didn't take more than an hour, really, but it felt like forever just sitting there trying not to think about what was going on down the hall.

Then, an assistant Healer came for them.

"You three are with the Potter's, right?" At Remus' soft confirmation she immediately said, "Both mother and daughter are doing fine. There were no complications, and the Potter's are ready to see you now."

Remus and Sirius both sighed in relief. Rigel thanked magic that her mother was okay, and shut her eyes against her brain trying to imagine what exactly entailed a 'complication.' Archie hadn't covered childbirth in his Healer's studies yet—probably wouldn't until sixth or seventh year. From the little Rigel understood, however, it wasn't something she really wanted to experience. Ever. Luckily she now had a little sister to be responsible for carrying on the bloodline. A little sister, Rigel reflected, who she should probably go meet.

She followed her uncles back to Lily's room raised her eyebrows as she took in her parents. James looked like he'd been subjected to one of Flint's Extreme Exhaustion Practices, or EEPs, as Pucey liked to call them. His hair was more untidy than usual, his face was clammy, and he had the wild-eyed look of a man who'd been through hell and still wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve it.

Lily, on the other hand, looked like a professional jogger who had just finished an important race. Her skin glowed with healthy exertion, a thin layer of sweat making her forehead shine slightly under the bright hospital lights, and she had a smile of immense satisfaction on her face.

In her arms was a little pink bundle of blankets. They all crowded in to see, and Rigel's first thought was that she'd never seen anything so weird looking.

Her baby sister was kind of wrinkly, not really human-looking, and didn't appear to be capable of either opening her eyes or shutting her mouth. Her scrunched up little face looked entirely unhappy to be faced with the lights and noise of the outside air. Her eyes stayed clenched shut, her nostrils flared, and she cried and cried about the unfairness of it all. It sort of hurt Rigel's ears, and Remus' expression was particularly pained, but Sirius bent over to get closer.

"What a set of lungs," he said, chuckling, "Hello little Addy, welcome to the world."

"Addy?" Lily's sparkling eyes narrowed dangerously.

"It was Archie," Sirius said, backing off quickly.

"Addy?" Lily said again, turning her eyes on Rigel.

"Harry came up with it," Rigel said quickly, "She wrote me about nicknames she was thinking of, since Adriana is too sophisticated for everyday use."

Lily pursed her lips, "Addy, huh? I guess it is sort of cute."

Sirius sent Rigel an impressed look that clearly said 'nice save.' Rigel just smiled a bit at the irony of life.

"I like it," James declared. He was slowly regaining color, but still looked to be suffering a slight case of combat fatigue.

"Can I hold her?" Sirius asked eagerly.

"No," Lily said bluntly. Seeing Sirius' pleading look, she sighed, "Have Healer Nilkin sanitize you first. And don't turn her skin weird colors."

The Healer stepped forward, and performed a general sterilization spell that Rigel recognized from Archie's training on all three of them. "That's good for four hours," she said cheerfully, "But I'll be back every two hours to renew it, just in case. And may I say what a beautiful baby girl you have, Mrs. Potter? Just perfect, she is."

The Healer left the room breezily, and Rigel got the feeling she was the kind of person who just walked through the world with a smile on their face no matter what crossed their path.

Sirius held Adriana for a little while, then Remus held her, still grimacing at the way the baby wouldn't stop fussing and crying.

"Didn't you feed the kid?" Sirius asked. At Lily's glare he shrugged, "Right, dumb question. Still, Addy's a bit high-strung, don't you think?"

"Will you take her, Archie?" Remus asked a few minutes later, "I'm going to ask one of the nurses for a headache potion."

Rigel hesitantly leaned back in her chair and held her arms in the position the Healer showed her. When her sister was placed in her arms, she was illogically surprised at how light she was. A person shouldn't weigh less than a sack of flour, Rigel mused silently.

Her sister's eyes opened a tiny bit, but not wide enough to distinguish the color. Rigel had read that newborns required an eye-drop potion to keep infection away for the first few days after birth, and the potion often blurred the infant's vision until the drops wore off. Rigel supposed if someone had blinded her without explanation she might cry a lot, too. With her wrinkly forehead and squinty eyes, Addy wasn't really all that cute yet, but there was still something endearing about her odd little fragility. Even though the baby girl was by far the most defenseless thing in the room, she didn't hesitate to make her presence known. Rigel wondered what age it was that people stopped letting themselves be heard out of fear.

Addy was still fussing, so Rigel rocked her arms gently for a little while to try and calm her. It didn't seem to help, but she kept at it. Addy's little beanie cap slipped up a little bit, and before Rigel re-adjusted it she cause a glimpse of fine copper tufts.

"She has your hair, Aunt Lily," Rigel said, smiling slightly.

"And James' eyes," Lily said, smiling, "She had them wide open until the drops went in."

"That she does," James said proudly, "And her mother's chin, as well."

Lily shook her head, "You can't tell the shape of her chin yet, James."

"Yeah, but it's got that stubborn tilt to it, doesn't it?" James sighed fondly, "She'll be a right hellion, I can tell."

"Oh, no," Lily said, still shaking her head, "No, not this one. She'll be an angel."

"Oh, Lily, I'm so sorry," Sirius said, eyes wide with feigned sorrow, "I thought—" he broke off and bit his lip apologetically.

"What?" Lily said suspiciously.

Sirius shook his head sadly, "I just thought Addy was your daughter."

"Why you—!" Lily started searching her hospital gown for something, "James, where's my wand? I'm going to hex that stupid friend of yours if it's the last thing I—"

Lily broke off when Addy let out a particularly loud cry of distress. Rigel stood up awkwardly and carefully transferred the baby back to Lily's arms. Lily took to cooing softly at the little girl, ignoring Sirius completely.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the suite. Magic aided childbirth significantly in terms of the mother's health and the infant's strength, so the Potter's probably could have gone home the same day, but James felt it best to stay until the morning at least. They all took turns holding the baby—though none of them could get her to stay quiet for long.

At some point Rigel must have fallen asleep in her chair. She tended to doze off these days when she wasn't actively doing something, so it didn't surprise her to feel Remus shaking her awake. She uncurled and was about to ask what time it was when she heard an unmistakable voice floating in through the birthing suite door, which was slightly ajar.

"If you would simply fetch Rigel Black from within, I will be on my—"

"Nonsense! You simply must come wish the new mother well—it's good luck, you know."

"I have no interest in luck, good or otherwise—"

"Well then at least come in for politeness' sake."

"I don't—"

The door opened all the way and Healer Nilkin came breezing in, one hand beckoning a certain Potions Master to follow her. Professor Snape appeared to be barely holding his impatience in check, so Rigel scrambled up and said, "Bye, everyone. Congratulations, Aunt Lily. Hello, Professor. My apologies for not meeting you downstairs—I fell asleep, I'm afraid."

"So I see," Snape said shortly, flicking his gaze over her rumpled hair and robes, "With me, Black."

"Wait!"

They turned as Lily called them back. Rigel's mother was biting her lip, a habit Rigel had only seen her display on a handful of occasions, none of them happy. Lily hugged Addy a bit tighter to her chest, then said, "It's good to see you, Severus."

Rigel actually stopped breathing for a moment in surprise—did her mother just address Professor Snape by his first name? She'd always berated James and Sirius for insulting him, but Rigel thought her mother just felt a sense of nostalgic fondness for her childhood friend. The way she looked at him now, it was like they knew each other, as if some great tragedy had passed between them. It was uncomfortable, the awkward anguish on Lily's face.

Snape's face wouldn't have been more expressionless if he'd been petrified, "Mrs. Potter." Lily flinched minutely, "Congratulations. Come, Mr. Black."

"Oi! Don't talk to my son like he's an animal," Sirius snapped, standing from his chair to move protectively toward Rigel and her Head of House.

Snape sneered at Sirius just enough to be utterly dismissive, "I'll deal with my student however I please, Black."

"Like hell you will," Sirius snarled, "I won't let you order Archie around like a whipping dog so you can feel some misplaced sense of self-satisfaction."

Snape raised one pointed brow, "Unlike some people, I don't derive pleasure from debasing others. I think you'll find that…Archie doesn't object to my treatment of him in the slightest." Snape took a step closer and lowered his voice to a dangerous octave, "You might want to spend a little less time worrying about the behavior of others and a little more contemplating your own."

"Just what is that supposed to mean?" Sirius said, eyes narrowed and voice lowered as well.

"Only that you clearly can't expect one animal to be responsible for another," Snape said, lip curling with distaste, "Is it really a surprise that someone more qualified came along to take control of what you've allowed to grow unchecked?"

"Are you questioning my ability as a parent?" Sirius fumed, clenching his fists. Rigel had never seen Sirius so upset—usually when people made him angry he just laughed at them, or insulted them back. He never just fell for the bait like this.

"I'd question your ability as a human being if I didn't know a mutt like you would take it as a compliment," Snape said with a humorless smirk.

Rigel realized two things in quick succession. The first was that Snape knew of Sirius's illegal animagus form—somehow. The second was that if these two wizards stayed in the same room for long something was going to get hurt. Since the most defenseless thing in the room was her baby sister, Rigel was suddenly extremely motivated to get Professor Snape out of the room—not because she feared Snape, but because who knew what Snape's presence combined with their being in a Hospital room would make Sirius do.

"Well, I wouldn't want to miss dinner," she said, pitching her voice a bit too loud, the way Archie did when he wanted to change the subject so obviously that no one could ignore it, "See you all this summer. Thanks for collecting me, Professor Snape." She moved to hug Sirius briefly and waved at everyone else, blowing a kiss to Addy for good measure.

Snape seized upon the moment smoothly, nodding to the general assembly and making a swift exit.

Then didn't speak as they rode the elevator down to the level with floo connections, both lost in their own thoughts. Rigel didn't know what Snape was thinking, but she was thinking that either Dumbledore wasn't as wise as he thought, or else he'd seriously underestimated the amount of bad blood between Snape and her family. Honestly, Rigel had underestimated it too. Somehow the cold blackness in Snape's gaze seemed to go far beyond what would be reasonable over a decade-old school rivalry. And Sirius had snapped at Snape so quickly—as though he'd been waiting to do so, or else had done it so many times it was automatic. James and Remus hadn't stepped in, Rigel noted. They hadn't even seemed surprised. Remus just looked resigned, and James was visibly holding himself back from siding with Sirius—he didn't dare in front of his wife, it seemed.

And Lily—what on earth was that expression on her face when Snape called her 'Mrs. Potter?' It was like pain, and a tiny bit of anger, but not toward Professor Snape. There were other things in her gaze, too, but Rigel couldn't figure them out. All of it was just too emotionally charged to sift through—and she had no idea why.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

On Monday morning Dumbledore made the announcement about taking over Defense classes for the rest of term. McGonagall's face was openly disapproving, but the rest of the staff just seemed surprised and confused. Whispers broke out across the hall. There were a lot of excited looks around some of the tables, especially among the older students.

"Finally!" Pucey exclaimed from up the table, "Maybe we'll actually learn something before we graduate."

"It's only for a few months," someone else said cynically, "He'll spend the whole time undoing the damage of a decade of incompetence."

"Still better than trying to undo it ourselves," Pucey shrugged.

The second-years had Defense that afternoon after lunch, and they sat quietly waiting for their new Professor to arrive, not quite sure what to make of the situation. They were surprised at first when students from all four Houses began to arrive, since they normally only had this class with the lions, but as Blaise pointed out—Dumbledore is a very busy man. It made sense to condense his classes to seven a week instead of fourteen or more.

When the Headmaster finally walked into the classroom, it was completely silent. He made his way to the front and carefully wrote his name on the blackboard in squeaky white chalk.

Several people laughed quietly when he turned around and said, "Hello, class. I am your new teacher, Professor Dumbledore."

The silver-haired man paced the front of the room with an easy grace as he spoke.

"As you may have noticed, I have combined all Houses in each year, both because it saves having to teach the same lesson twice, and because I have always been wary of too much unnecessary division among our students," he said, tugging on his beard thoughtfully, "Now, I'm sure you're wondering what sort of things we'll be covering in this class. Essentially there will be a different topic every day. I wont tell you about it in advance, because I'll likely be deciding upon the topic that morning while I eat breakfast."

No one could tell if he was kidding or not.

"There will be no reading assignments required before class, and there will be no homework assigned after it," Dumbledore went on, "The former is because I will tell you everything you need to know, the latter because although I will be taking my responsibilities for this position seriously, I regrettably do not have the time to grade what I'm sure would be simply inspiring examples of your insight and understanding of the material."

There were grins breaking out all over now, and a couple of people clapped.

"This does not mean that you will not be held accountable for materials covered in class, however," the Headmaster said genially, "Every other Wednesday there will be an oral quiz over the topics covered in the last three classes. It is open notes, so be sure to take some. Without further ado we begin our first topic: Defensive Shields. You have all learned Protego of course, but this is only the first of a series of defensive spells we call shields. Each shield has a differing level of difficulty and usefulness, which more often than not are directly proportional."

And so their first real Defense lesson ever went. Unlike Quirrell, Dumbledore didn't give them a chapter to read about a spell and then make them try it on dummies for the entire period with little or no actually guidance.

He gave them an overview of the different kinds of shields they might expect to encounter in their lives, with a comprehensive analysis of their uses and drawbacks. Several of them, he explained, would be beyond their current level, but it was better to be aware of what others who were more powerful than they might be able to use against them than to be shielded from them simply because they were beyond their reach.

They all left the class satisfied and very much excited for their last few months of Defense.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

The next week was so quiet that everyone knew something bad had to happen soon.

On the evening of the fifteenth, Rigel thought she ought to visit Neville in the Hospital Wing.

She approached Selwyn in the common room, who looked up from her magazine—again, written completely in the runic language that Rune Magic was based off of—with a resigned expression. "What do you want, Black?"

Rigel tried to look as unassuming as possible, "I was wondering if I could have a pass to the Hospital Wing to visit Neville Longbottom."

"He's petrified," Selwyn said bluntly, "He's not going to know if you visit or not."

"I'd still like to visit him," Rigel said evenly, "I can take another student along for safety, if you prefer."

Selwyn scoffed, "Oh, yes, let me send two second-years out into the basilisk-infested corridors. I'm sure having a second person to break down in hysterical tears with you will make all the difference."

Rigel gave Selwyn a flat, unappreciative look, and Selwyn raised an eyebrow in return, as if to say—can you really deny it?

"Can you send a prefect with me?" Rigel tried.

"My prefects have better things to do," Selwyn said.

Rigel glanced over to where the seventh-year male prefect was playing exploding snap with his friends, "Clearly."

Selwyn groaned, "You're not going to go away, are you? Fine. I will escort you to the Hospital Wing, where you will stay until I come back to collect you at curfew."

Rigel agreed readily, and Selwyn grudgingly walked her through the castle to the Hospital Wing. "You hear anything that sounds like hissing and you tell me immediately, Black," Selwyn said, gripping her wand with wary confidence, "Then you tell me which direction it's coming from, and we run the other way, got it?"

Rigel nodded, "Nothing so far."

"It better stay that way," Selwyn grumbled, "If I get petrified and miss NEWT's because of you, I'll repeat the year just to spite you and put you in detention every night for both terms."

Rigel felt her fear of the basilisk showing up that night increase by several notches.

They reached the Hospital Wing without incident, and Selwyn pointedly glared at her before leaving, "Stay. Here."

Rigel privately reflected that Selwyn didn't really trust her very much.

Her friend was the first in the row of petrified students, and it always pained Rigel to see that same frozen expression on his face even after all these months.

She sat quietly by his bedside, since she really had nothing to say. She wasn't sure what compelled her to visit Neville every now and then—logically neither of them really benefited from it—but it seemed wrong not to, as though she were forgetting him. Eventually she decided to work on her little project as long as she was sitting quietly, so she took advantage of the quiet, empty Hospital Wing and sank into meditation.

The puppet-guardian was right where she'd left him, as disappointing as that was. She sank into the armchair across from him and stared pensively.

She'd modeled him after what she thought she'd look like if she really was a boy. This would be what potential intruders into her mind encountered, so she wanted it to match people's expectation of what they would see, so they would be less likely to question it.

The best purpose she had divined for a sentient mental guardian was to disguise it as herself, or at least as how people would perceive her mental self to be. One of the major drawbacks of having to consciously defend you mind was that it left you vulnerable in the physical world. No Occlumens was really a threat until his shields were good enough that he could defend his mind automatically while still being consciously present in his physical body, so that he could keep both out of harm's way. Until then, it was an either/or kind of a situation, and unless you were facing an enemy like the sleeping sickness, which only attacked your mind, a mental attack would likely come in conjunction with a physical one.

This was a temporary measure to bypass that drawback until she could figure out her shields. If a mental attack came with a physical threat, she could maintain control over her body while the guardian actively protected her mind the way she could only do while in meditation.

At least, in theory. In reality the so-called guardian sitting across from her was little more than a mindless drone. Maybe…well, he could follow basic instructions, so maybe she could give him a set of very specific commands to follow in the event of any intrusion. He would still be mindless, but he would be able to react under a certain set of presupposed conditions, like a muggle computer.

She set about devising such a set of commands, which basically involved her imagining possible scenarios and then imbuing the puppet with the proper reaction commands by using magic to cement the instructions into the puppet's brain. She had no way of knowing whether it worked, since she couldn't simulate a mental attack on her own brain, but she felt better for having done something, at least.

She returned to the physical world to see that the sun had already set. Selwyn would probably be coming to collect her soon.

The door to the Hospital Wing opened, and Rigel stood to go, guessing that Selwyn wouldn't want to wait around. To her surprise, it was not Selwyn who walked in, but Parvati Patil. The girl slipped in soundlessly, and it didn't take much to guess that she had sneaked out of Gryffindor tower to visit her sister.

"Hello," Rigel said.

Parvati jumped guiltily and turned toward her, "Black? What are you doing here?"

"Visiting Neville," Rigel said.

"What good will that do?" Parvati said bitterly.

Rigel raised an eyebrow, having been under the impression that Parvati was doing the same exact thing.

Parvati made a face, "Don't look at me like that. Neville's not your twin, so he can't feel your presence like Padma can feel mine. Besides, I can't do anything else. You can, though." At Rigel's confused look, she tossed her braid and said, "You're a Parselmouth, aren't you? Use your stupid gift to find the thing before it hurts more people. That's what Dumbledore was trying to do, wasn't it? I recognized that Parseltongue we all heard as yours, so obviously he thinks you can lure it out."

"It didn't work," Rigel said apologetically.

"Then try again," Parvati said, "My sister is petrified, Black. I know you're an only child but just try for a second to imagine what that feels like."

Rigel thought of Addy, so tiny and frail, and shuddered at the thought of her coming anywhere near a basilisk's gaze. "I'm really sorry, Parvati—"

"Don't be sorry," Parvati said coldly, "Do something about it."

"I can't," Rigel said, feeling inadequate even though she knew she couldn't really be expected to do anything, "It isn't safe to just wander around looking for it, and what would I even do if I found it? Just run away, probably."

"So what?" Parvati said, her voice rising, "Finding it is better than nothing. But no, you're just sitting here, totally useless. If I had the power to help people, you wouldn't see me sitting in here doing nothing."

"The teachers don't want us to—"

"The teachers haven't had anyone they care about petrified, though, have they?" Parvati said, her voice hitching a bit, "You know, today's my birthday. Mine and hers. We always—I've never spent it alone before, and I got her present months ago but she won't get to open it until June at the earliest and it's all just so stupid. I hate this! I don't see why the teachers can't make it stop."

"I'm sure they're doing their best," Rigel said ineffectually.

"Right. That's just something people say when they don't want to tell you they've accomplished nothing," Parvati spat, "You know what? Why don't you just go?"

"I have to wait for—"

"For what? Someone else to make everything okay? Grow up, Black. And get out. I don't want you here tonight," Parvati said, turning toward her sister's bed with a broken, miserable expression, "It's bad enough I have to know you aren't doing anything to help. I don't want to watch you do it, too."

"I'll wait by the doors," Rigel said.

"Didn't you hear me? Get OUT!" Parvati turned back to yell at her, slipping off her shoe and throwing it in Rigel's direction for good measure. Probably she knew the wards in the Hospital Wing prevented most low-level spells classed as 'offensive' from being cast, in order to prevent students from opposing Quidditch teams from hexing one another after the matches.

Rigel's magic came out to deflect the projectile automatically, but she flinched anyway in surprise that the other girl would actually throw something at her. Still, she didn't have a twin sister, so she supposed she couldn't really relate to what Parvati must be going through. She left the Hospital Wing quietly, deciding discretion to be the better part of valor in this case, and leaned back against the wall in the corridor. If she was lucky, Selwyn wouldn't chew her out too much for being in the hallway when she arrived.

For a few minutes it was quiet.

When she started to hear the whispering hiss of Parseltongue echoing softly down the corridor, her first reaction was utter disbelief. How could this be happening to her, of all people? Then, a more pressing question:

What should she do?

Madam Pomphrey wasn't in the Hospital Wing that night, as evidenced by her not coming to investigate when Parvati started shouting. Rigel knew the Mediwitch usually did inventories with Snape mid-month, so chances were good the Healer was in the dungeons. There was a ward to alert her in the event that an injured person crossed the threshold to the wing, but Rigel wasn't sure how sensitive it was, and didn't want to seriously injure herself to trigger the wards in case Madam Pomphrey wasn't just somewhere else, but actually indisposed.

On the one hand, she could stand there and pretend not to hear anything. That might keep her safe if the basilisk didn't come her way, but it was also a cowardly course of action that wouldn't help anyone. If the basilisk was roaming, someone needed to know. Besides, there was no guarantee the basilisk wouldn't find her; in fact, she was probably more likely to get petrified if she stayed where she was than if she moved away from the faint sound of the hissing.

On the other hand, she could try to get help. That was a good idea, but she didn't know where to look. There were no portraits in the hallway, though there might be a few in the Hospital Wing. If she went back inside the Hospital Wing, however, Parvati would ask why she was back, leading to her telling the girl who had just admitted to having vigilante tendencies that the monster she was so keen on seeing destroyed was possibly within her reach that night. Somehow… that seemed like a bad idea.

And yet, did she have a choice? She couldn't go wandering around. Maybe she could convince Parvati to stay in the Wing with her, and if nothing else Rigel was probably physically stronger than the Gryffindor girl. She could force her to stay in the relative safety of the Hospital Wing wards if she had to. Rigel turned around and pulled on the door—but it didn't move. Frowning, Rigel tried again, but the door was definitely stuck. She knocked on the heavy door several times, but Parvati didn't answer. She pulled a few more times on the handle before realizing the door wasn't stuck. It was locked. Parvati had locked her out. She knocked louder, trying to inject some urgency into the sound, but it, too, was ignored.

Rigel was about to try asking her magic to unlock one of the doors, despite the unlikelihood of that working without her wand on her to help her consciously direct it, but before she could phrase the silent request she felt herself repelled backwards several feet with no warning. It was like an invisible force has swelled suddenly and pushed her away from the door. She stretched out a hand, but could get no closer to the doors than a couple of feet. She moved her hand from side to side, frowning. It felt like a bubble of magic was arched over the Hospital doors, though she couldn't see any visible trace. The half-dome of magic didn't give or waver, even as Rigel lifted both hands and pressed against it testingly. It reminded her of something, but she wasn't sure what.

She sighed. Her magic probably wouldn't be able to get through whatever that was. At least Parvati would be safe as long as she stayed in the Wing.

The only question that really remained was how to find help and alert someone now without also finding and/or alerting the basilisk. It would probably be looking for prey, which, if everyone else was in their common rooms like they were supposed to be…pretty much just left her.

The hissing was slightly louder now, but still faint and indistinct. She was pretty sure it was coming from the left, so she headed right. The first portrait or ghost she came across, she would ask for help.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Alesana frankly had better things to do than traipse around after a second-year with a mouth too smart for his own good and an unlucky penchant for pissing off the forces of destiny. Then again, as Head Girl she was one of only two students allowed to roam the halls in these troubled times. The fact that she'd passed her Defense OWL with flying colors and was expected to do equally well on her NEWT despite seven years of a more worthless parade of professors than anyone could be expected to deal with only justified the trust the professors placed in her.

Trust, as any good Slytherin knew, went hand and hand with added responsibility. So if you really wanted to keep people's trust, you had to be willing to take responsibility for things you otherwise wouldn't, which meant sometimes she had to ferry second-year brats to the Hospital Wing and back even though she'd rather be reading about the effects of sunlight deprivation on Cornish pixies.

The castle was always eerie after the students were abed—any prefect who'd done rounds knew that, but tonight there was something…off in the air. She was listening hard for sounds of hissing as she walked, but what textual information was available about Parseltongue indicated that those who were predisposed to speak it were also much more sensitive to its perception. Often there were reported cases of a Parselmouth recognizing the sound of another snake at negative four times the decibel at which a non-speaker was able to hear it.

Interestingly, Parselmouths didn't seem to have increased audio-sensing abilities in general. It was only when it came to the perception of Parseltongue.

Alesana got to the Hospital Wing, reached towards the doors, and froze, first in confusion, then in anger. There was something preventing her from accessing the handle. She pulled out her wand and cast a charm over her own eyelids that was meant to render invisible magic visible, as long as it was free magic, cut loose from its castor in the form of a completed spell. The dome around the Hospital Wing doors flared white to her eyes, and Alesana carefully noted its dimensions before releasing the Magic Sight spell. She chose a portion of the door that was not warded by the invisible barrier, and cast a useful Transfiguration that essentially transfigured a solid piece of material into negative space by moving the material in the epicenter of the spell to the edges of the affected area, which was about three feet in diameter. As the hole materialized in the heavy door, Alesana gracefully folded herself through the small opening.

She emerged in the Hospital Wing on full alert and took stock of the room quickly, but there was only one person inside—and it was not Rigel Black. A quick look over her shoulder at the doors revealed the culprit for the invisible barrier. An innocuous-looking button was lying on the ground just in front of the inside handles. Alesana recognized it instantly as one of the new joke products that made it onto the Prefect-Awareness list every semester. This one was a Marauder invention, the Barrier Button, or something. She banished the button—and therefore the barrier as well—with a flick of her wand until it was safely away from the Hospital entrance. Someone else could figure out how to dismantle it later.

She strode toward the Gryffindor—Patil—who was sitting next to her petrified twin. The girl scrambled up when she heard footsteps, caught completely off-guard, and backed toward the nearest wall—typical Gryffindor, no situational awareness or forethought.

"You—Patil," Alesana snapped, "What are you doing out after curfew?"

"It's ten minutes 'till," Patil said defiantly—again, Gryffindors. No Slytherin would bare their tiny little fangs at someone unquestionably more powerful than they.

"Did you block the doors? This is a Hospital Wing, you know. What if a student had been injured and needed entry?" Alesana asked.

"Student's aren't allowed out of the dorms anyway," Patil said smartly, then winced as her own words caught up to her.

"That's right," Alesana said, smirking, "Students are forbidden to be out without a proper escort. Is McGonagall hiding under one of these beds?" Alesana lifted a brow derisively when Patil didn't answer, "I didn't think so. Ten points from Gryffindor. Where is Rigel Black?"

"What do I care?" Patil scowled.

"Watch your tone, second-year," Alesana said, her already slim supply of patience rapidly evaporating, "Was Black here when you snuck in?

Patil reached up and clenched a hand around her braid, tugging it over her shoulder in a nervous gesture, "Yeah, he was here—sitting and moping like a useless prat."

Alesana clenched her teeth at the open insult, "When did he leave and where did he go?"

"Ten minutes ago," Patil said sullenly, "And I don't care where he went."

Alesana really wanted to give that girl's braid a sharp tug and see if it knocked some manners into her head, but refrained because she had learned at a very young age that it was impossible to fix pigheadedness. "Why did he leave, Patil? He was supposed to wait for me to fetch him."

Something flickered in Patil's gaze, but it was quickly smothered, "He just left."

"Rigel Black does not 'just' do anything," Alesana said, "Try again."

"I told him to get out, okay?!" Patil snapped at her, brown eyes blazing, "You should have seen him—sitting there doing nothing. He had no right! Acting like—"

Alesana had heard enough to understand that Patil was the reason Black was gone, and that the girl had probably put up the barrier to keep him gone. She sneered at the girl, "Like what? Like he cares? I can guess you're sitting here because you feel lonely without your sister, but Rigel Black came here because for some unfathomable reason he feels compassion and responsibility for people he by all rights shouldn't give two knuts about. And instead of thanking him for his consideration or—I don't know—leaving him alone, you blew up at him to satisfy your own frustration and sorry sense of helpless guilt, am I right?"

Patil flushed and turned her head away so she wouldn't have to look at Alesana. Some people might have taken pity on the girl at this point, but Alesana was in no kind of mood to pity petty Gryffindors.

"Since you didn't physically make Black leave, I'll leave it at the ten points I already took," Alesana said, every word sharp, "But rest assured, Miss Patil, that if Rigel Black is petrified by the time I find him, I'll see to it that his friends know exactly whose fault it is that he was isolated and defenseless on a night like tonight."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Patil asked shakily.

"It means you'll learn why the first thing your housemates told you when you were sorted was not to cross one of Slytherin House, little girl," Alesana hissed, incredulous that the girl could be so thick, "Did you really think you could treat Black however you wanted just because he was too nice to stop you? That's not how it works."

Patil flinched, but glared up at Alesana all the same, "I know that. I also know Black won't ever let any of his friends hurt me, not even Malfoy, so stop trying to scare me. I meant what's 'a night like tonight' supposed to mean? Do you know when the monster is going to attack or something?"

Alesana felt the urge to roll her eyes creep up on her and barely refrained from giving in, "What's today, Patil?"

"March fifteenth," Patil said.

"What is March fifteenth?"

"My birthday?" Patil said blankly. At Alesana's unimpressed look, she scowled and said, "I don't know, okay? What is it, Basilisk Day?"

"It's the Festival of Souls," Alesana said, feeling that the unspoken 'you twit' was clearly implied, "And if you knew anything about undead culture you'd know that this is the night all sentient soul-imprints and shadows gather to celebrate life after life. Even if you didn't know anything about the festival, however, you should have known just by looking around you that you shouldn't send Black out into the castle by himself. There are three portraits in this room. Do you see any of them in their frames? No? That's because they're all in the Southwest Tower, and likely won't leave the Founder's Hall until their celebration concludes at sunrise."

Patil swallowed as the reality of the circumstances set in, "Ghosts too?"

"Even the Sorting Hat attends," Selwyn informed her bluntly, "Which means that when Rigel Black runs into trouble—and you can bet he will, because that's all the brat knows how to do—there won't be anyone around to turn to."

"The teachers—"

"Stopped patrolling after Lockhart was petrified," Selwyn snapped. Honestly, even the Gryffindors should have realized the Professors weren't going to make targets of themselves when there shouldn't have been any students to patrol for. Everyone understood the danger, so presumably the students were smart enough to follow the rules when it meant their own skin. Then again, lions never cared for anyone's skin, least of all their own.

"Well," Patil was reaching, and she knew it, "Well, he's still not defenseless. Black's a decent wizard."

Alesana had no words for how completely inane this girl was acting, and no intention of humoring it, no matter how distraught the girl was over her sister, "First of all, Rigel Black is a second-year. It doesn't matter how good a second-year he is, there's still no way he can stand against a basilisk. Second, Rigel Black is an idiot who leaves his wand in his school bag half the time. While that is his own stupid fault, it also means that for all you know, he is completely defenseless right now."

Patil's lower lip shook, but she stubbornly kept her chin up, "N-no. He used magic to deflect my shoe when—"

Alesana's eyes flicked down to Patil's feet, only one of which was shod, then over toward the door where a shoe matching the one on her left foot was lying on the ground. She spoke slowly, not quite able to believe what she was saying, "Am I to understand that you threw a shoe at one of my second-years?"

"It didn't hit him," Patil mumbled, and the only reason Alesana didn't give her detention was because she could see genuine shame in her eyes.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Patil," Alesana said coolly, "And you are to remain here until either Madam Pomphrey returns from her bi-monthly inventory meeting with Professor Snape or I return to escort you to your common room. Understood?"

"Yes, Head Girl Selwyn," Patil said stiffly, finally acknowledging Alesana's authority in an effort to scrape her dignity off of the floor.

Alesana left the Hospital Wing with a brisk stride and a heavy frown. Patil was an idiot, but Black wouldn't be winning any common sense awards that night. Why in Salazar's name had he left the Hospital corridor, even if he couldn't get back into the Wing?

She paused for a moment outside the doors to take a deep breath, then conjured up the memory of her most recent birthday. It had been warm that night, and during the small party her parents had thrown for her coming of age, Edmund had pulled her outside into the garden and given her a silver box, trimmed delicately in green.

"This better not be part of our game," Selwyn said, the relaxed smile on her face belying the warning, "I want a real gift."

Edmund gazed down at her steadily, the smile in his eyes the only sign of his fond regard, "You're not tricking me into telling you what it is, Alice. Open it."

Alesana lifted the lid and felt her breathing stop. Inside the box was a pair of earrings, fashioned in sapphire but engraved so skillfully that they were perfectly rendered depictions of the Chinese blue butterfly. Edmund's fingers came up to grip hers around the box, and only then did she realize her hands were shaking. In Chinese myth, a pair of butterflies symbolized eternal love.

"Expecto Patronum," Alesana said clearly. From her wand sprang a large, ghostly wolf. She ran her fingers through its fur for a moment, absorbing the sense of steady strength it projected, before saying, "Find Professor Snape. Message: Student out of bounds. Rigel Black. Last seen Hospital Wing."

The wolf bowed its head and sped off down the corridor.

She set her wand flat on her palm, said, "Point me: Rigel Black," and took off at a jog when her wand stopped spinning.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Apparently all the ghosts and portraits had gone on holiday. Literally every frame Rigel came across was empty, and none of the ghosts were wandering about their usual haunts. It was as if the castle had been emptied, it was so silent. Except for the hissing. She couldn't tell if it was closer or further away, but every now and then it became clear enough to catch ominous phrases like 'rip' and 'let me feed, Master.' Then she would move in the other direction, and it faded again. She felt like she was playing a perverse game of cat and mouse. Even though it wasn't true, it seemed like she and the basilisk were the only two in the whole school, running circles around one another as Rigel tried to find someone to help and the basilisk tried to find someone to kill. The only advantage she had was that the basilisk was projecting its position with its disgruntled mumbling, and she had taken off her shoes to muffle the sound of her own movements as soon as she set off.

First thing when she got to the Library next, she vowed to look up a spell for finding things. It would be useful both for finding a teacher and simply knowing where the thing she wanted to avoid was. Several times Rigel tried to head for the dungeons, but each time the voice would grow dangerously close, and she'd be forced to turn around and take another route. Also, she silently promised to stop leaving all her important things in her schoolbag—even though it was better protected than her person. Or else she was going to start carrying it everywhere, for nights like these, when she wound up wandless, mapless, invisibility-cloak-less, and generally as unprepared for trouble as one could possibly be.

She was on the second floor when she heard it. Not hissing, but crying. Someone was sobbing loudly nearby, and Rigel changed direction to hurry toward the sound. If there was another student out of bed that night, she had to find them and make sure they got to safety as well.

She tracked the sound to a girl's bathroom, where water seemed to be leaking out under the doorway and into the hall. She knocked a few times, and when no one answered, she opened the door.

The sound intensified exponentially once she stepped inside, which made Rigel think that someone had for whatever reason placed some sort of muffling spell around the doorway. Perhaps that was why her knock had gone unheard.

"Hello?" she called into the bathroom, "Is everything all right?"

The dreadful crying stopped instantly and a suspicious voice snapped, "Who's there?"

"My name is Rigel," she said, feeling awkward just standing there but unwilling to go further in case the girl was…indecent. Even though it was nothing she hadn't seen before, the girl wouldn't know that, and there was no need to embarrass anyone. "Can I come in?"

"You're a boy," the girl called scathingly, "No boys allowed. So go tease someone else."

"I'm not that kind of boy," Rigel said cajolingly. She couldn't in good conscience leave without finding a way to get this girl to safety, "Not one of those mean, stupid ones, you know."

"I suppose you don't make fun of girls either," the girl called skeptically.

"Never," Rigel said solemnly, "My best friend is a girl. She doesn't stand for any of the usual boy stuff."

"Oh," the girl sounded slightly mollified.

"So, could you come out?" Rigel asked, "Because it's already after curfew. It isn't safe to be out of the dormitories at night anymore."

High-pitched laughter echoed around the bathroom, and suddenly a pale specter whooshed through the wall of the nearest stall and came to a stop in front of Rigel's shocked face. The ghost looked a little older than Rigel. She had pigtails and glasses, and a smugly superior expression.

"Not too bright, are you?" the girl said, snorting with laughter, "Ghosts don't have a curfew!"

Rigel felt her face flushing with embarrassment, "My apologies, Miss. I thought you were a student out after curfew."

The ghost gave her a flat and slightly hurt look, "So you came in here to get me into trouble?"

"No," Rigel said reassuringly, "I don't know how much you're aware of events in the school, but the halls aren't safe right now. I was just going to make sure you got back to your dormitory safely."

"Even if I was a Hufflepuff?" the ghost demanded.

Rigel raised her eyebrows, "Well, of course. That would actually be more convenient, since it's on the way to my own dormitory."

The ghost narrowed her pale eyes behind equally translucent glasses and said, "Hmph. Well, as you can see I don't need any help. So just go away." The ghost turned back toward the flooded stall she had come from, head hanging dejectedly.

Rigel hesitated. She should get back to her dormitory, but it felt…wrong just to leave someone crying in a bathroom, even if that someone was a ghost.

"Why were you crying?" Rigel asked.

"None of your business," the ghost said, whipping around. Her eyes were beginning to water once more.

"Sometimes it helps to talk about it," Rigel said, remembering how Draco tried to get her to talk about her nightm—dream.

The ghost glared, "Oh no. I know how this works. You pretend to listen to me for a few minutes and then you spill all your stupid problems and expect me to come up with advice and solutions." Rigel opened her mouth to deny it, but the ghost forged on, "There was some brat in here last week going on and on about how she was going crazy and forgetting her life and losing her mind, and I'm like—this is not a psych ward. I'm not a mind healer! Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I don't have a life, you know?"

Rigel made a sound that she hoped was more sympathetic than amused; the ghost seemed to have no conception of irony.

"I promise not to tell you any of my problems," Rigel said solemnly.

"Good, because unless they're really horrible, I couldn't care less," the ghost said, reclining sidewise in the air, "So I can complain and you won't do anything but listen?"

Rigel nodded tentatively, not sure what she was getting herself into.

The ghost flipped in the air until she was staring into Rigel's face upside-down, "Well, it's the most awful thing. You know tonight is the Festival of Souls, right?"

Rigel's eyes widened, "Oh. That explains…" A lot, actually. Did she have the worse luck in the world, or what? She frowned, "Then, why are you in here?"

The ghost sniffed and retreated several meters, fingering her pigtails morosely, "I'm not welcome there."

Rigel felt bad for the ghost in spite of herself, "I'm sure no one would mind—"

"You're sure?" the ghost screeched suddenly, "Oh, you know so much? Well I think it was pretty clear when Peeves tossed a dung bomb in here this afternoon and told me not to show my face in the Founder's Circle tonight."

Rigel tried to placate the ghost, "Peeves doesn't really speak for all the ghosts."

"Well, no one came to contradict him," the ghost spat sullenly.

Rigel thought it somewhat telling that she expected someone to come and invite her personally to an event that was by definition open to all postmortem sentient beings.

"That was awfully mean of them," Rigel said eventually, settling on commiseration, "I didn't know the afterlife made people such jerks."

"Oh, it's not death that did it," the ghost said sagely, "All people are jerks."

"I suppose you could say that," Rigel said awkwardly.

"Well, I would know," the ghost sniffed, her eyes starting to water once more. Rigel was frankly impressed at how quickly the spirit's mood could change, "Even before I was dead, no one was nice to me. A lot of people think it's funny that I died in a bathroom, but I wasn't in here answering nature's call, you know. I was in here crying, because Olive Hornby made fun of my glasses again. Like she could talk—you should have seen her hair. Frizzier than a drunken monkey."

"I'm sure she regretted making fun of you, after you died," Was all Rigel could think to say.

"Didn't she though?" the ghost sighed happily, "Oh, I haunted her for ages."

"I see," Rigel said, then frowned as something niggled at her mind and asked, "Sorry if it upsets you, but how exactly did you die in a…bathroom…" Rigel promptly gave herself a mental slap, "You're Myrtle!"

The ghost pursed her lips in surprise, "Well, yes, that's me." She narrowed her eyes, "Was someone talking about me behind my back?"

Rigel shook her head, "Not really, but I was investigating the string of attacks about fifty years ago, and I was told a very nice girl named Myrtle was tragically murdered by a monster—only I forgot they said it was on the second floor, so I didn't realize I was talking to a, um, celebrity."

Myrtle preened, "Well, that's right. I was killed in that stall over there. I heard someone come in, you know, just like you—a boy who shouldn't be in here. I came out to tell him off, but then there were these eyes, and then…I was dead. Do you know it took them three hours to find my body? I waited and waited for someone to finally realize I was gone." Myrtle was crying again now, and Rigel felt an involuntary tug at her heart. Imagine waiting for someone to notice you'd died. "B-but no one came. My murderer didn't even stick around. By the time I awoke as a ghost, the eyes were gone."

She broke down into hysterical sobs, and Rigel wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't very well physically comfort the ghost, but she had no words for the situation either. Eventually she decided a distraction was in order.

"Do you think what's happening now is related to what happened to you?" Rigel asked.

Myrtle sniffed back her tears and said, "Well, it must be. I mean, everything is the same, except…you know, there was this funny writing that kept cropping up everywhere last time. So maybe it's not the same…I don't know."

"Maybe they'll catch whoever did it, this time," Rigel said bracingly, "Maybe the culprit will be brought to justice at last, and you can get some peace."

Myrtle rolled her eyes, "I'm not hanging around because my murder is still unsolved. I mean, seesh, could you be any more clichéd? I haunt this bathroom in case other people come in here to cry like I used to. If I'm here, they won't have to cry alone."

"That's very noble of you," Rigel said, "But don't you care if they catch whatever killed you?"

"Well," Myrtle said slowly, "It would be nice to finally know. If it was a basilisk like the Headmaster is saying now, that would be a pretty cool story to tell at next year's Festival of Souls. Until now all I ever get to say when it's my turn is 'causes unknown,' while that Sir Whimsy Porpin-head or whatever he's called goes on and on about how many times they chopped his head almost off. As if anyone cares."

Rigel had a sudden idea, though she wasn't sure if it was a good one or not.

"Myrtle, would you like to…join my investigation? I could use a ghost of your unmatched observational skills on my team," Rigel said, now reduced to blatant manipulation, but not overly bothered by it. It was for a good cause, after all.

"Me? Part of a team?" The way Myrtle's eyes shone with excitement was almost painful to see, "Oh, yes! I could be a crack agent, Mr…what's your name again?"

"Rigel," she said, "I'm Rigel Black. Will you help me, then? Because we want to catch the basilisk before anyone else suffers your cruel fate."

Myrtle floated around her in a circle and clapped her hands, "Yes, yes, my fate was so cruel! We shant let any other poor little girls get murdered in their stalls, shall we?"

"Ah, definitely not," Rigel said, "So I can count on you to keep an eye on things around here?"

"You bet," Myrtle said, "I'll report back as soon as I see anything suspicious, Mr. Black."

"Great, Myrtle," Rigel said, "Thank you for your help."

"No problemo," Myrtle said, "So how much does this gig pay?"

Rigel blinked, "What sort of compensation were you looking for?" She wasn't sure ghosts had any use for money, but she supposed her allowance might cover a ghosts' expenses…whatever they might be.

Myrtle thought for a moment, "Ooh, I know! I want some decorations in here. Get me a Weird Sisters poster, some aquamarine paint, and some of those beads that go over doorways, only fit to the dimensions of my stall."

Rigel agreed, though the whole thing was beginning to feel vaguely surreal, and Myrtle floated in giddy loop-de-loops around the bathroom.

"Oh!," Myrtle said suddenly, "Where do I report to you?"

Rigel gestured to her silver and green tie, "Slytherin common room, usually."

Myrtle looked doubtful, "That's an awfully long way from my toilet…I guess…I'll only report about really important things."

Rigel thought perhaps this was a good rule to put down anyway, since Merlin only knew what sort of things Myrtle might deem necessary to report. Still, Rigel thought the ghost might be helpful, and Myrtle definitely could use a positive outlet for her depression. Maybe she would be more content if she wasn't so focused on her morose existence. Also, since she was a ghost, Rigel didn't have to worry about the basilisk killing her if she did happen to see something. A ghost couldn't be killed, and they could only be banished by highly specific rituals, so this was a perfect way to get help dealing with the basilisk while not putting anyone in danger. Even Patil couldn't ask for more.

"Myrtle," she said, "I've got to get back to my common room now. But it was lovely to meet you."

"I'm glad you enjoyed your time here in my humble bathroom," Myrtle cackled, "Do come again, Mr. Black."

Rigel bowed deeply to the ghost, then ducked out of the girl's bathroom and shut the door behind her. Once she was outside of the muffling spell that she was now sure had been placed on the bathroom entrance, she listened hard up and down the corridor. She couldn't hear anything, which was either a very good, or a very bad sign. Either the basilisk was far away, or else it had gone quiet in preparation for striking.

She estimated she'd been talking to Myrtle for about fifteen minutes, so she really had to get back to the common room soon. Selwyn was probably already back there, waiting for Rigel to show up. She considered going back to the Hospital Wing to make sure Parvati got back to her tower safely, but there was no guarantee she could make it to the Hospital Wing safely, and Parvati definitely wouldn't thank her for showing up there again in any case, provided her barrier spell wasn't still in place.

She would just tell a prefect when she got back to the common room that the monster had been out that night, and that a girl in the Hospital Wing might need help back to her dorm.

Rigel cut over to the nearest set of stairs and took them down to the basement level. From there she hurried past the kitchens and around the corner to the corridor that would lead her to the stairs that went both up to the main level and down to the dungeons.

When she reached those stairs, which were fairly wide across, being so frequented, she heard footsteps running rapidly down them her direction. She whirled, her magic sizzling under her skin agitatedly, but stood from her defensive half-crouch when she saw who it was.

"Black! Of all the utterly stupid things you could have done. Didn't I tell you to stay put?" Selwyn hurried down the last few stairs and pointed her wand at Rigel before she could open her mouth to defend her actions. Selwyn didn't speak, but the blue glow that slowly emitted from her wand to encompass Rigel's body was a spell Rigel recognized from Archie's schoolbooks as a comprehensive health-checking charm. It wouldn't tell you what was wrong with someone, like a diagnostic charm would, but it would know instantly if there was something wrong.

Unfortunately, one of the things the Checking Charm, as it was called by Healers, could detect was the use of Polyjuice Potion. Rigel's magic rose up to answer the categorized threat at once, and she felt it settle in a layer over her skin an instant before the blue glow connected. Selwyn's charm tried to absorb into her skin, at which point it was meant to re-emerge as either blue vapor, if nothing was wrong, or red vapor, if the subject was under the influence of a spell, curse, potion, mental attack, or physically injured in any way.

Instead, the blue cloud settled on top of Rigel's own magic without penetrating her skin, and remained there, seemingly unsure of what to do next.

Selwyn's eyes narrowed sharply. She made a flicking movement with her wand tip and the blue glow dissipated. The Head Girl twisted the tip back just as fast and trained her wand steadily on Rigel, saying, "Why did you leave the Hospital Wing?"

Rigel frowned, and said, "I thought if I came back early, you wouldn't have to go to the trouble of fetching me." She didn't like lying to Selwyn, but there was no point in blaming Parvati for it and getting them both in trouble. She'd left of her own volition, after all.

Selwyn's eyes glinted, and a cold look passed over her pretty features, "Wrong answer." Her wand moved in a blur—too fast for Rigel to see—and a jet of red light shot out of it.

Rigel didn't have time to respond, but her magic, already at the ready after responding to the Checking Charm, boiled through her unasked, solidifying into a shimmering, red shield between she and Selwyn. She recognized it as the same shield her magic had attempted when the wall exploded in the basement corridor all those weeks ago. This time there were only a few holes, and the stunner from Selwyn's wand was absorbed with no trace by the solid portion of the shield that it struck.

The red shield was draining her magic fast—to the point that she could actually feel the effect the one spell had on her core to keep it going. She didn't know what it was about that one shield her magic kept trying to create, but it was unlike any other spell she'd felt in terms of sheer taxation.

Selwyn shot two more spells in quick succession, both aimed at holes in her incomplete shield, but the shield warped and twisted to move the holey portions out of the path of the two successive jets. Rigel stumbled back as the spell became exponentially more difficult to maintain. She couldn't take it down and try something else, partly because by the time she switched shields Selwyn would get a hit in, and partly because she had no wand to channel conscious magic into anyway—it was much harder to control the magic without the phoenix wand egging her on. Besides all that, she didn't know why Selwyn was shooting spells at her in the first place.

"Selwyn, what's going on?" Rigel said, backing away toward the stairs.

Selwyn stalked after her carefully, "Who are you?" she demanded sharply.

Rigel maintained an expression of complete confusion, though in her mind she was starting to piece together what had happened, "I'm Rigel Black," she said slowly.

"Wrong," Selwyn said, twisting her wand to send a spell around the red shield. The shield rotated to cover Rigel's unprotected side and Selwyn used that brief opening to dart forward with a leg-sweep under the shield, which only covered her torso, and tried to hook Rigel's legs out from under her. Rigel jumped on instinct away from the sweep, but she fell off balance and tilted sideways toward the inside of her own shield. The red magic dissipated the instant she began falling toward it, and Rigel only had time to wonder what would happen if she had actually touched it when Selwyn followed with a quick hand around Rigel's throat while her other hand brought her wand up to Rigel's ear.

She froze, her magic waffling uselessly under her skin in a combination of hesitation and fear.

Selwyn squeezed her throat lightly in warning, and said, "Who are you?"

Rigel frowned in frustration and said, "I'm Rigel. I don't know what else you want me to say."

"Enough with the dumb act," Selwyn growled, "Rigel Black left the Hospital Wing because Parvati Patil asked him to. If you were Rigel Black, you would have known that."

Too late, Rigel realized the Head Girl was a lot more paranoid than Rigel had given her credit for, and also that by protecting Parvati she had made herself look like a liar—which she was—and worse, an imposter.

"I didn't want to get Parvati in trouble," Rigel explained quickly, "I'm sorry I lied, Selwyn. Ask me something else."

Selwyn looked highly skeptical, but then paused, her grip loosening a bit, "Sadly enough, that…does sound like something Black would do. Why did you block my Checking Charm if you have nothing to hide?"

Rigel grimaced, "I didn't say I have nothing to hide, just that I am Rigel Black. You have to admit the Checking Charm is an invasion of privacy. There are a half-dozen reasons I might have to avoid it, all of which are legitimate and none of your business, Head Girl or not. Suffice to say that it wasn't because I'm an imposter."

Rigel didn't think the irony could get any thicker in the air that night.

Selwyn looked into her eyes and sneered a bit at what she saw there, "You're a liar." Rigel stiffened slightly. "But…Rigel Black is a liar, too. Tell me this then: what did you give Rookwood on my behalf last year?"

"Boomslang venom," she said at once.

"What did you ask Rookwood to do at the New Year's Gala?"

"Dance with Pansy."

"What do you, Theo, and I have in common?"

Rigel paused. What did…oh. "We can all see thestrals."

Selwyn let go of her throat and stepped back with a scowl, "Don't ever lie to me again, Black—at least not on a night like tonight."

"My apologies," Rigel said, rubbing her throat a bit.

"We've wasted too much time," Selwyn said, "Let's get going."

"Oka—wait," Rigel strained her ears, Selwyn freezing to allow her to listen unimpeded. There was something in the air, just the faintest of echoes, but she couldn't say for sure if it was the snake tongue. "I'm not sure…we should move fast."

Selwyn took off at a jog, Rigel right behind. When Selwyn saw she was keeping up, the Head Girl picked up the pace, every now and then shooting a pale yellow spell around an upcoming corner. Rigel wasn't sure what it did, but Selwyn seemed satisfied every time the spell came back to her wand without doing anything else.

They were almost to the common room when a silver wolf sprang out of the stone wall next to them, nearly giving Rigel a heart attack in the process. Selwyn halted and the wolf glided to a stop in front of the black-haired upper classman.

"Message," the wolf intoned.

"Proceed," Selwyn said

Professor Snape's voice sounded from the wolf's open jaws, "Pomphrey back in Hospital Wing, do not return for Patil. Proceed to common room with or without Black. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout also notified. Send status reply."

Before Selwyn started her reply, Rigel said, "Tell him the basilisk is active tonight. I heard it earlier; that's why I had to move from the Hospital Wing. It sounded too close."

Selwyn nodded, and relayed both that information and their current location and health to the patronus, which bounded away through the ceiling once more. Rigel wondered how Snape had gotten above them if he'd been in the dungeons doing inventory when he got the message, but then she remembered the Hospital Wing had a floo connection as well, so they'd probably flooed straight up when they heard.

After that it was a short time until they reached the common room entrance and Selwyn snapped out the password. They both moved quickly into the common room and paused to subtly catch their breath before proceeding further into the main area.

Rookwood made it to them first. He took Selwyn by the shoulders and swept her with an all-encompassing gaze. Once satisfied that she was unharmed, he stepped back and nodded to Rigel, subtly checking her overall health as well, though not as intensely.

Rosier ambled up a beat later, saying, "Did you race here from the Hospital Wing, Alice? Because I fear you have an unfair advantage over our Rigel."

Selwyn shot Rigel a considering look, "He kept up well enough."

"Rigel runs in the mornings," Draco said as he and Pansy reached them, "But not usually though the halls. What happened?"

"Lost track of time," Rigel said smoothly, "Thought we heard something, so we hurried back—better safe than sorry."

Selwyn sent her another look, this time completely disbelieving, "Does it really come so easily to you, or did you spend the whole trip back thinking that up?"

Rigel pressed her lips together in slight annoyance, "That was all true."

"And completely misleading," Selwyn said flatly, "Lie to your friends if you want, I'm not going to lie to mine."

Well, when she put it like that.

"Sorry, Pansy, Draco," Rigel said, feeling like she was saying that a lot lately.

"You say that a lot," Draco said bluntly.

Rigel winced, "I just don't like to—"

"Worry us," Pansy finished with a patient smile, "We know, and we understand…but we're still going to ask Selwyn what really happened."

Rigel thought that was fair enough.

Selwyn went through a brief explanation of the night from her point of view, and Rigel supported it without bringing up unnecessary details, like the making of deals with ghosts in female lavatories.

Draco and Pansy didn't even bother acting surprised. Instead, they exchanged exasperated looks, then each took Rigel by the elbow.

"We're terribly sorry about our friend, Head Girl Selwyn," Draco said with exaggerated politeness.

"We'll be sure to teach him how to properly respond to an emergency situation," Pansy added, "Since apparently all he knows how to do is blunder around like a blind mountain troll."

Rigel thought that was a bit harsh—she had done her best, all things considered.

"Make sure you explain what a security question is, Pansy," Selwyn said with a wry twist to her lips.

"Of course, Alice," Pansy said sweetly, "Right after we explain why abandoning a safe location because your enemy told you to is a monumentally thick course of action."

"She wasn't my enemy," Rigel protested.

"Anyone with so blatant a disregard for your personal safety is your enemy, Rigel, even if only temporarily," Pansy said evenly.

Rigel was going to argue when a silvery patronus glided through the common room wall and came to a stop in front of Selwyn. It wasn't Selwyn's wolf, but a medium-sized doe, with soft eyes and an elegant bearing. Presumably Selwyn's own patronus had run out of steam—they tended to only be good for a few messages, Rigel had read—and now one of the professors was using their own. Selwyn led the patronus to a small conference room off the main common room that only the prefects had access to, and shut the door to take the message in private, presumably in case it wasn't meant for student ears.

She couldn't help but think, as Draco and Pansy dragged her off to a lecture about proper behavior in times of stress and uncertainty, that the patronus was familiar somehow, as though she'd seen it before.

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[HpHpHp]

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[end of chapter thirteen].

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A/N: Before anyone asks: the Point Me spell worked for Rigel's location even though she isn't really named Rigel Black because in that spell the name is merely the referent by which the wizard defines the thing he is searching for. If it could only find something with the same 'name' and nothing else, then it could point to anyone named Rigel Black in the world. Luckily, magical recognition spells and devices are not tied to something's actual name, but to the thing or person the one using the spell or device associates the name with—they are dependent on the caster's will and understanding, as almost all magic is. So because Alesana knew Harry Potter as Rigel Black, the Point Me spell took her to Harry Potter when she asked for who she knew as Rigel Black. This is very important, not just because I wanted to make the Point Me spell work in this instance, but in the future for a certain Triwizard tournament that may or may not be happening fourth year.

All the best,

-Violet