It was embarrassing to admit, in retrospect, but it was the accent that put him on it.
Yes, he had noticed things before – tiny details, most of them. At Hogwarts, Archie had always smelled a little different. The scent was wrong, overlaid or underlaid by something different, other. But he didn't think much of it, then, because it wasn't as if he smelled like anyone else he knew, either. He had thought, perhaps, his senses had simply been confused by the number of students at Hogwarts, by adapting to a new environment, and perhaps Archie had been experimenting with colognes. It was the sort of thing that Sirius' son would do.
Even that night, after Archie had been rescued from that cave of horrors, he had thought his senses confused. Archie didn't smell like Archie, that night – neither like the scent he had known at home, nor the scent he had associated with him at school. But so much had happened that night, and he had admittedly been focused on Sirius, and he hadn't really thought much about it.
He never realized, even after returning home, that not-Archie that night really smelled like… well, Harry. And as a werewolf, and as one of the most controlled of his kind, that was frankly embarrassing.
It wasn't the scent that put him on it, even though it should have been. It was the accent. Archie spoke with broader vowels and clearer enunciation than Harry did, and every so often, when he eavesdropped on the cousins, he used slang that Harry simply didn't going to Hogwarts, he had simply thought that the words, rare as they were, were the new youth slang. But he never heard them at Hogwarts, and, the more he thought about it, he realized that Archie didn't really sound like the rest of their family, either.
Harry, like Lily and Remus himself, spoke with clear Received Pronunciation, though her accent was modulated somewhat by James' posh consonants. Archie, like Sirius, had had a posh accent, though his had always been softer than Sirius'. Now, though, his accent still had undertones of Sirius' upper class, but it was … different.
When he thought about it further, it didn't make sense. Why would Archie's accent be different? All of his friends – the Malfoys, the Parkinsons, the Notts, Zabinis, Bulstrodes – were of the same social class as the Blacks. Archie's accent, if anything, ought to have become more upper class, and yet, it hadn't.
In contrast, Harry's accent had effectively remained unchanged, despite years of living in America. If anyone were inflexible enough to prevent that inevitable change, it would be Harry; but, when put together with Archie's changing accent, it was decisively odd.
It was over dinner, one night at Grimmauld Place, that the pieces had clicked. Both Harry and Archie were there, Archie cajoling his cousin into giving him her second slice of pie, Harry rolling her eyes in acquiescence, remarking on something in her dry, slightly caustic manner. He didn't remember what he said, exactly, but that wasn't important. Their words, though, were familiar, as familiar as their scents, and at first he simply relaxed in the comforting embrace of his family. He listened to them banter with half an ear, and it was perhaps that very inattention that caught it.
What was important was the contrast their accents made, slight as it was – it was different, as different to his ears as their scents were to his nose. He wondered, first, when that had happened – their accents had always been slightly different, of course, but not in that way. Had Archie's enunciation ever been so clear before? He hadn't remembered it being so, and it hadn't been that way at school, either. When had that happened? He frowned slightly, then smoothed his brow before his friends could notice. That didn't make any sense.
Subtly, he had drawn in a breath. Of all the werewolf senses, scent was the sharpest, and the one he most preferred. While some scents, tolerable as humans, were stronger and overwhelming as a werewolf, there was something wondrous about being able to draw in a breath and identify the persons he was with without looking, to know, without asking, what was in the oven when he walked in, to map his world in scents as people did with sight and sound and touch.
And their scents, too, were different – alarmingly so. His nose told him clearly that he was in a room with his family, James and Sirius and Lily, Harry and Archie, Addy, and they had recently finished a meal of roasted chicken with rosemary potatoes and sautéed vegetables. There was a pie for dessert, and he smelled the tart sweetness of strawberries and rhubarb and caramelised sugar. And Harry was there, her scent changing with age but still complex and spicy, overlaid with the scent of her cauldron, and Archie was there, his scent lit with notes of the spearmint in his soap, lightly medicinal, without the complex notes of potions ingredients and old books and other that Remus had associated with him at school.
That was when it hit him – that Archie's scent was not one and the same as Rigel's scent, beyond simply the differences of being at school and at home and beyond the overlay of their daily activities. Their core scents were different – Harry's had always been spicy, complex to his nose, and Archie's clean and clear. And Rigel's?
Rigel's scent had always been a combination of the two – a complex, clean scent with notes of mint and spice. Except for the time, shortly after his ordeal, when his scent had been spices, overlaid with the harsh smells of the Hospital Wing. On that occasion, and on that occasion alone, Rigel's scent had been… Harry's.
He sharpened his gaze on the two cousins, Archie now stuffing his face happily with the remainder of Harry's pie, and Harry, leaning back in her chair with a glass of milk, smiling reservedly, watching him enjoy himself. They looked too similar to be natural, and while Remus understood Sirius' theory, scents didn't lie. If Rigel sounded like Harry, smelled like Harry, and looked like Harry, then the most logical explanation was, simply, that Rigel was Harry.
And with that thought, so many other pieces fell into place. Remus prided himself as being the closest relative, emotionally, to Harry. While James and Lily were parents par excellence, while he had no doubt that Harry loved her parents unconditionally, Remus had always, he thought, understood her best. She was similarly theoretical, similarly academic, with a deep core of stubbornness that pushed her to doing the impossible. She had always worshipped Severus Snape, and given her interests, and Archie's well-known desire to go to AIM to learn Healing… was it out of the range of possibility that they had switched places?
He purposely left his face relaxed, mildly engaged in his friends' conversations, even as the bottom dropped from his stomach. They absolutely would have done something like that, if they had thought of it. Harry had no fear, and while some might have thought that Archie wouldn't have gone along with it, Remus knew well Archie's fervent devotion to Healing. Archie might not have been able to work out the details for himself, but Harry would have been able to plan it, and as well as the cousins knew each other and as close as they were… had they thought to switch places, had they determined the risks were worth it, there was no question that they would have done it.
And if they did, if they did switch places… it would explain the extent to which Archie had avoided him, that year at Hogwarts. Both Harry and Archie were aware of his condition, and would have been exceptionally cautious of his senses. It spoke more to his inattention to his senses that he still hadn't noticed.
It explained Rigel's reputation at school. Remus had always thought Archie was much less exuberant, more reserved, at school. Then again, he only saw Archie at meals and in class, and so he had figured that perhaps he only saw Archie in particular circumstances where he would be more reserved. His Sorting into Slytherin House, too, would have had an impact – Slytherins had always prized propriety above the other Houses, so perhaps a reserved personality was expected in classes and at dinner. However, if it was Harry attending Hogwarts, then her reserved personality would simply be a reflection of her actual personality – Harry was actually reserved, and actually academic and studious. Rigel's personality, frankly, was much more Harry than it was Archie.
And the dueling! Archie had never shown an interest in dueling at home – that was all Harry. Harry was the one who sought Remus out for personal fitness and dueling. Harry was the one who went out on runs and trained illegally in the Lower Alleys. Harry was the one who entered herself into an illegal free-dueling competition. It was Harry, not Archie, who had the fitness reflecting a certain Rigel Black.
Remus felt like a fool. It didn't answer everything, of course, including why the two looked like twins instead of cousins, but Remus didn't put it past the cousins to solve trifling problems like that. Perhaps Archie was a Metamorphagus.
The only question now, of course, was what to do about it.
XXX
It took him three days to decide.
He considered telling his friends. Certainly, it would have been the most prudent thing to do – surely their parents had a right to know. But something stopped him – was it the fact that, as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, James would have had to arrest his daughter? Was it the fact that it would have killed Lily to see her eldest daughter go to Azkaban? Was the fact that Sirius, so recently recovered from Diana's loss, would lose the newfound enjoyment of connecting with old family and friends? Was it the inevitable fact that doing so would irreversibly destroy Harry's and Archie's dreams?
Or was simply it the fact that Remus himself found it unfair that he, as a halfblood werewolf, twenty years ago, could attend Hogwarts, but Harry, as a gifted halfblood girl, could not?
The more he thought about it, the less he inclined he was to tell anyone. He could see no future on that path that led to happiness – at best, Harry would be on the run, and James potentially out of a job, and at worst… that didn't bear thinking on. There was no future, in the current climate, where they would be let off, scot-free. Not for blood identity theft, and certainly not for an ongoing crime. There was little he could do, really, other than trust in the ingenuity of the cousins to keep them safe. Perhaps in a few years, the political climate would change. Perhaps, if the secret were kept a few years longer, it would all be well.
The chances of that were slim, though, and if Remus was a little tougher on Harry in their training sessions that strictly warranted, if he pushed her a little harder than he might otherwise have, well, that was the most he could do to prepare her for the inevitable firestorm.
At least, he thought, no one would be catching his niece unprepared.
XXX
AN: Thanks everyone for reading - and especially thanks to Violet for writing such an awesome series, and for her recent update! :) As always, constructive criticisms welcomed, and hopefully this tides everyone over until another chapter is published!
