Chapter 49 - Parricide
In the dim morning light filtering through the high windows of the Great Hall, Rigel and Daphne sat side by side at the Slytherin table, an air of quiet confidence surrounding them. The Great Hall buzzed with the usual cacophony of voices, the clatter of dishes, and the flutter of owls delivering the morning post, yet there was an underlying current of anticipation that seemed to pulsate through the air.
As an owl swooped down gracefully, dropping the day's edition of the Daily Prophet in front of Rigel, his fingers deftly caught it before it could slide into his plate. Unfolding the newspaper with a practised flick, the headline immediately caught his eye, prompting an amused smirk to dance across his lips. Daphne, ever perceptive, leaned in slightly, her blue eyes scanning the page with keen interest.
The headline was bold and provocative: "Historic Alliance Forms: House Potter and House Black Unite, Shifting the Balance of Magical Britain." The article beneath it was no less sensational, detailing with a mix of awe and speculative fervour how two of the most influential houses—one traditionally aligned with the light, the other with the dark—had forged a surprising alliance, blurring the lines between the factions and drawing themselves closer to the so-called grey faction.
Rigel's smirk widened as he read aloud, "This unprecedented union between the Potters and the Blacks has sent shockwaves through the wizarding world, leaving many to wonder about the future implications for the political landscape." He glanced at Daphne, whose lips twitched in amusement. "Exactly the reaction we were hoping for," he whispered, the satisfaction in his voice unmistakable.
Daphne nodded, her gaze still fixed on the article. "It seems we've managed to keep most of our old allies while thoroughly bewildering everyone else. The speculation about what changes this might bring is...entertaining, to say the least."
Rigel leaned back, folding the newspaper and placing it beside his plate. "Entertaining and useful. Let them speculate. It only adds to our advantage. Uncertainty can be a powerful tool, after all."
Around them, whispers began to spread, as fellow students eyed the headline over their shoulders, their expressions ranging from disbelief to intrigued. Some looked at Rigel and Harry with newfound respect, others with apprehension.
Daphne's gaze swept over their housemates, a slight smile playing on her lips. "We've certainly set the stage for some interesting times ahead," she remarked softly, her eyes meeting Rigel's.
Rigel nodded, his blue eyes reflecting a depth of strategy and anticipation. "Indeed. The chessboard is set, and the pieces are moving. Let's see how the game plays out from here."
Their conversation then drifted to other matters, but the underlying excitement of their strategic manoeuvre lingered in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the shift they had initiated, not just within the walls of Hogwarts, but across the wizarding world itself.
~~~o~~~
The Room of Requirement, ever responsive to the needs of its occupants, had transformed itself into a spacious area reminiscent of an advanced combat training ground. The walls were lined with various magical artefacts and weapons, while the centre of the room offered a wide, open space for physical engagement. As the last rays of the afternoon sun filtered through the enchanted windows, casting a golden hue over the room, the members of the Order of the Black Cat gathered, an air of seriousness enveloping the group.
Rigel stood at the forefront, his posture commanding and his gaze sweeping over his companions. "As you all know," he began, his voice resonant and clear, "all members of the Order of the Black Cat are present, save for Tonks, for obvious reasons." A brief flicker of concern passed through the group at the mention of their first mission's challenges, but Rigel's demeanour remained unfazed. "That mission was a learning experience, nothing more. Our focus now shifts to combat training—real combat training, not the sanitised duelling we're used to in a controlled environment."
Nods of agreement and murmurs of assent followed his statement, a collective resolve hardening among the group. Daphne Greengrass, ever the strategist, stepped forward to continue where Rigel left off. "In addition to honing our combat skills, we must also consider expanding our ranks. To achieve our goals, we'll need more members—members who are not only skilled but also utterly trustworthy."
The room fell into thoughtful silence as the gravity of Daphne's words settled in. It was then that Ginny Weasley, her fiery spirit undimmed, spoke up. "May I make a suggestion?" she asked, her eyes alight with the promise of a bold idea.
Harry, who had been listening intently, nodded at Ginny, signalling his encouragement for her to share her thoughts. "Go ahead, Ginny," he said, his tone supportive.
Ginny took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping across the faces of her fellow Order members. "I'd like to suggest my brothers, Fred and George. They've been itching to join the Order of the Phoenix, but Mum won't have it. If we offer them a place in our Order, I'm certain they'll jump at the chance."
A murmur of interest rippled through the room, and all eyes turned to Rigel. He paused for a moment, considering Ginny's proposal. "Fred and George have indeed been on our list of potential recruits for some time," he admitted, his expression thoughtful. "Their creativity and skill could be invaluable to us. Ginny, I agree with your suggestion. Arrange a meeting with them, but keep the details vague for now. We'll reveal more when the time is right."
Ginny's face lit up with determination, and she nodded in agreement. "I'll talk to them after today's training session," she promised, a hint of excitement in her voice.
As the training session commenced under Rigel's watchful eye, the tone was markedly different from any they had experienced before. The jovial camaraderie that often accompanied their gatherings was replaced by a focused intensity, a reflection of the seriousness with which Rigel approached the task at hand.
"The Death Eaters will not show us any mercy," Rigel stated, his voice echoing through the Room of Requirement, now transformed into a battleground of sorts. "It is imperative, then, that we extend them none in return." The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the reality they were preparing to face.
The training shifted away from the conventional spells and tactics taught in Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. Instead of focusing on disarming and stunning—spells designed to temporarily knock out or disarm their opponents—they delved into more aggressive techniques. These spells were designed to incapacitate and kill their opponents, a necessary edge in the unforgiving confrontations they anticipated.
Training dummies served as their opponents, lined up like silent sentinels awaiting the onslaught of spells. Each member of the Order took turns practising these potent spells, their faces set in grim determination. The spells required a higher degree of power and concentration, far beyond what was needed for the standard curriculum at Hogwarts. The air was thick with the discharge of magic, the dummies bearing the brunt of spell after spell, some of which left them smouldering or completely obliterated.
As the session wore on, the physical and magical exertion began to take its toll. The intensity of the training, both mentally and physically demanding, left them with a deep sense of exhaustion. Their robes were damp with sweat, and their breathing was heavy, yet there was a palpable sense of accomplishment among them. They had pushed themselves beyond their usual limits, gaining a newfound respect for the complexity and power of these advanced combat techniques.
As the sky outside darkened, signalling the approach of curfew, Rigel called an end to the session. The group, weary but invigorated by the progress they had made, collected their belongings in silence. There was a mutual understanding that the path they had chosen was not an easy one, but it was necessary. Their resolve was strengthened, not just by the spells they had mastered that day, but by the bond they shared as members of the Order of the Black Cat.
One by one, they left the Room of Requirement, their steps slow but steady as they made their way back to their respective common rooms. The castle's corridors were quiet, the usual evening bustle subdued as they navigated their way through the familiar passageways.
~~~o~~~
The next morning, as the Great Hall buzzed with the energy of students starting their day, Ginny navigated through the crowd with a purpose. Reaching the Slytherin table, she found Rigel and Daphne amidst their breakfast, their conversation pausing as she approached. With a discreet glance around to ensure no unwanted ears were within range, Ginny leaned in slightly.
"I've spoken to Fred and George," she whispered, her tone laced with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. "I told them to come to the Room of Requirement after classes today."
Rigel's expression softened into a smile of appreciation, a rare moment of warmth breaking through his typically composed demeanour. "Thank you, Ginny," he replied, his voice equally hushed. "I'll make sure the others are aware."
With a nod of satisfaction, Ginny retreated to her seat next to Astoria, leaving Rigel and Daphne to their thoughts. As she settled into her breakfast, the atmosphere around them subtly shifted, charged with the silent acknowledgment of the significant step they were about to take.
Once breakfast concluded, Rigel found an opportune moment to relay the information to Harry. They crossed paths in the corridor, a brief encounter that to any onlooker would seem nothing more than a casual exchange between students. Rigel's approach was calculated, ensuring their conversation remained private amidst the hustle of students moving to their first class.
"Harry," Rigel began, his tone low and serious, "Ginny has arranged for her brothers to meet us in the Room of Requirement after classes. Make sure you're there, dressed appropriately."
Harry's response was a discreet nod, an unspoken promise of his presence and readiness for what was to come. With a final, mutual glance of understanding, they parted ways, melting back into the flow of students each headed to their respective classes.
The day progressed with an undercurrent of anticipation, the impending meeting casting a long shadow over the routine of lectures and lessons. Yet, to the outside world, the members of the Order of the Black Cat maintained their usual demeanour, their secret plans hidden behind a facade of normalcy as they awaited the moment they would welcome new potential allies into their fold.
~~~o~~~
The Room of Requirement, ever accommodating, had transformed itself into a solemn assembly hall, with shadows dancing across the walls from the flickering light of torches. The members of the Order of the Black Cat stood in a semi-circle, each clad in their order robes and masks, embodying the gravity and secrecy of their cause. The air was thick with anticipation, a silent understanding shared among them about the significance of the moment about to unfold.
As the appointed time drew near, a hush fell over the room, every member poised and waiting. Then, as if on cue, the door creaked open, admitting the only two who, apart from the Order, had been granted access by the Room's enchantments—Fred and George Weasley. Their entrance was marked by their characteristic buoyancy, yet it faltered slightly at the sight that greeted them. The joyous demeanour gave way to a hint of apprehension as their eyes swept over the masked and robed figures before them.
Rigel stepped forward to greet them, his voice emanating from behind his mask, distorted by an enchantment to conceal his identity. The effect, however, seemed to intensify the twins' unease rather than alleviate it. Clearing his throat slightly, Rigel began, his words measured and deliberate, "Welcome, Fred, George, to a gathering unlike any other you've encountered."
Fred, ever the more outspoken, voiced their shared concern with a nervous chuckle. "Er, mind telling us what's with the...getup?"
It was Daphne who moved to answer, her voice calm and assured despite the mask that concealed her features. "We're united by big goals," she explained, "and for those goals, we've formed this organisation. These robes, these masks, they're to protect our identities, to ensure we can work without fear of reprisal."
Before the twins could respond, Harry stepped forward, his presence commanding even behind the mask. "We've invited you here because we believe you share our vision," he said, his voice imbued with a sincerity that cut through the initial tension. "A vision of a better world. A world where everyone can make a difference, a world where everyone can find happiness. That's what we're fighting for."
The apprehension that had initially clouded the twins' expressions began to dissipate, replaced by a dawning comprehension and a slowly emerging resolve. "We want to be part of that fight," George said, his voice steady, "for a better tomorrow, especially with the shadow of Voldemort growing ever darker."
In a symbolic gesture of trust and unity, each member of the Order then removed their masks and lowered their hoods, revealing familiar faces bathed in the soft torchlight. The twins' tension melted away completely at the sight, replaced by a mixture of relief and newfound determination.
Ginny, stepping forward with a smile, extended two sets of robes and masks to her brothers. "Welcome to the Order of the Black Cat," she said, her voice warm with pride and affection.
As Fred and George donned their new robes, the room erupted into a chorus of welcomes, the atmosphere transforming from one of solemnity to one of camaraderie and hope. In that moment, the Order of the Black Cat grew not just in numbers, but in spirit, united by a shared commitment to their noble cause.
Once Fred and George were comfortably settled amongst the other members, the room's atmosphere shifted from introductory formalities to the serious business at hand. Rigel, taking the lead, began to outline the Order's activities and aspirations in greater detail.
"We've made significant progress," Rigel explained, his voice still carrying the enchantment's distortion but now filled with a sense of purpose. "Our immediate focus is on expanding our ranks and honing our skills. The world outside these walls is not as forgiving, and we must be prepared."
He then introduced the concept of codenames, emphasising their importance in safeguarding their identities. "In the Order, we operate under codenames. It's not just about protecting ourselves; it's about ensuring the safety of our families. You'll need to choose ones for yourselves."
Fred and George exchanged a look, a silent communication passing between them—a mix of excitement and the weight of responsibility settling on their shoulders.
The training session that followed was intense. Rigel, true to his word, did not ease the twins into their regimen gently. Instead, he plunged them into the thick of combat training, stressing the importance of being battle-ready. The reality of their situation was clear: conflict was not a possibility but an inevitability.
Fred and George, for their part, adapted quickly. Their natural agility and quick thinking, honed through years of pranks and mischief, served them well. They absorbed the instructions, their wands moving in swift, precise arcs as they practised the spells Rigel demonstrated. The training was gruelling, pushing them to their limits, but the twins met the challenge head-on, their determination evident in their sweat-drenched faces and the fierce concentration in their eyes.
As the session progressed, the air was filled with the sounds of spells being cast, the soft thuds of dummies being hit, and the occasional shout of triumph or frustration. Each member of the Order pushed themselves harder, driven by a shared sense of purpose and the urgency of their cause.
By the time Rigel called an end to the training, exhaustion had set in deeply. Their robes clung to them, damp with sweat, and their arms ached from the constant casting. Yet, amidst the fatigue, there was a palpable sense of accomplishment and camaraderie.
With curfew drawing near, the members of the Order began to disperse, making their way back to their respective common rooms. The castle's corridors were quiet, the usual evening chatter subdued as they navigated the familiar paths in silence.
Tonight, they were not just Hogwarts students; they were warriors in the making, each step taking them closer to the reality they were preparing to face. As they disappeared into the shadows of the castle, a sense of resolve lingered in the air, a silent vow to stand ready for whatever lay ahead.
~~~o~~~
Upon entering the Slytherin common room, Rigel and Daphne were immediately struck by the tense atmosphere that pervaded the space. At the centre of the commotion stood Draco Malfoy, flanked by his ever-present cohorts, Crabbe and Goyle, engaged in a heated argument with Ginny. She stood protectively in front of Astoria, who looked visibly upset, her posture tense and her eyes flashing with distress.
Without a moment's hesitation, Rigel and Daphne exchanged a quick, understanding glance before moving into action. Rigel approached Draco with a commanding presence that immediately drew the attention of the room. "Cousin," he said, his voice carrying a weight that brooked no argument, "that's enough."
Daphne, meanwhile, turned her attention to Ginny and Astoria, her expression softening as she asked, "What happened here?"
Ginny's response was swift and filled with indignation. "Draco was getting a bit handsy with Astoria, treating her like she's already his property or something."
Daphne's eyes flashed a warning, her posture stiffening at the implied disrespect, yet it was Rigel who stepped forward to address Draco, his voice tight with barely suppressed fury. "Cousin," he began, the title dripping with a veiled threat, "you would do well to remember the respect due to my future sister-in-law."
Draco scoffed, his face a mask of disdain as he retorted arrogantly, "Please, once the contract is finalised, we'll see who's instructing whom on matters of respect." With a sneer, he spun around, Crabbe and Goyle shuffling clumsily in his wake, leaving behind a charged silence that vibrated with tension.
The room, however, was far from empty. Theodore Nott stood a little apart, his eyes glinting with undisguised animosity as he openly sided with Draco, his stance clearly challenging Rigel's position at the pinnacle of Slytherin hierarchy. Around them, other seventh year students had paused to watch the unfolding drama, their expressions unreadable. Their silent scrutiny added a palpable weight to the atmosphere, making it evident that every word and gesture was being catalogued for future gossip or alliances.
Rigel, acutely aware of the eyes focused on him, felt the undercurrents of unspoken alliances and rivalries swirling around. It was impossible to gauge whether these onlookers were allies, adversaries, or simply neutral parties with their own hidden agendas. The uncertainty of their silent judgement added a layer of complexity to the confrontation, rendering the air thick with unspoken tensions and possibilities.
As Draco and his lackeys retreated, leaving a heavy silence in their wake, the focus shifted gently to Astoria. She trembled slightly, the encounter having shaken her more than she cared to admit. Rigel, Daphne, and Ginny immediately closed ranks around her, their words and gestures a balm to her rattled nerves. Yet, even as they consoled Astoria, Rigel couldn't help but remain hyper-aware of the silent observers. Their presence, a silent testament to the ever-complex dynamics within Slytherin, left Rigel with a nagging unease, pondering over the silent battles yet to come and the allegiances yet to be declared.
Daphne, her protective instincts in full force, placed a gentle hand on Astoria's shoulder. "Don't let him get to you, Tori," she murmured, her voice a blend of warmth and resolve.
Ginny, ever the fierce protector, nodded in agreement. "We're all here for you, Astoria. You're not alone in this."
Together, they stood united in the common room, a testament to their solidarity and determination to support one another against any threat that dared to challenge the bonds they shared.
After ensuring Astoria had been calmed and reassured, Rigel and Daphne made their way back to the seclusion of their suite. The atmosphere, usually filled with an enigmatic tranquillity, seemed to throb with a tension as they entered their private quarters. The door shut behind them with a click that echoed slightly, a testament to the gravity of the moment they found themselves in.
Daphne, her usually composed and icy demeanour now ablaze with fury, whirled on Rigel. Her blue eyes, typically cool and calculating, now burned with a fire that could outshine even the most ferocious of Gryffindor's lions. "We have to do something, Rigel," she hissed, the venom in her voice making the air between them crackle. "Before it's too late. I won't—I can't—stand by and watch Astoria be handed over to that... that slimy pig."
Rigel, ever the calm to Daphne's storm, met her gaze with a steady one of his own. His voice was the soft counterpoint to her passionate outcry. "I agree, love. We need to act. But what exactly do you propose we do?" His mind raced through the myriad of dark possibilities, but he harboured no illusions about the drastic measures they might have to consider. "There's only one solution that I can think of."
Daphne's expression hardened, the resolve in her eyes crystallising. "Then we do it. We have to kill them—my parents—to protect Astoria." The words, though spoken with a chilling calmness, hung heavy in the room, a dark decree that once uttered, could not be taken back.
A silence fell between them, dense and thoughtful, as Rigel pondered the implications. Eventually, he spoke, his voice a low murmur, as if sharing a dark secret with the shadows themselves. "I believe we can make it appear as a Death Eater attack. We floo in, eliminate them, burn the mansion to the ground, and cast the Dark Mark into the sky. No one will question the narrative."
Daphne nodded, her decision made, her parent's fate sealed with those words. "Tonight, then. We have no time to waste. Malfoy seemed quite confident that the contract would be signed soon. We cannot afford to be too late."
Rigel's agreement was solemn, a heavy weight in his voice. "Then we begin preparing now." The plan was set, a path from which there was no turning back.
And so the time came. In the cover of night, Daphne and Rigel stood in front of their fireplace, the sombre shadows of their suite casting long, eerie silhouettes against the walls. They were donned in their Order Robes and their Masks, anonymising them completely yet somehow accentuating the resolve etched in their posture.
Rigel grabbed a handful of floo powder, his hand steady despite the gravity of their mission. "Greengrass Manor," he called out with a determined tone, and they stepped into the fireplace together, disappearing in a swirl of green flames.
As soon as they stepped out on the other side, the opulence of Greengrass Manor unfolded before them, a stark contrast to the darkness that awaited its inhabitants. Flixie, the family elf, appeared with a soft 'pop', her eyes widening at the sight of the intruders. "Master and Mistress do not take visitors at this time," she announced, her voice quivering slightly.
Daphne addressed Flixie, her voice firm yet carrying an undercurrent of regret for what she was about to do. "Stay out of this, Flixie. This doesn't concern you."
Despite her robes and mask, Flixie recognised Daphne. House elves are strongly attuned to their families, even to those members who are unloved or estranged. With a sad look that lingered for a moment too long, Flixie accepted Daphne's command and disappeared with a soft 'plop'.
Moving with purpose, Daphne and Rigel approached the master bedroom. Upon finding the door locked and warded, Rigel whispered, "Seems they were expecting trouble. Probably from Aurors," he mused, the corners of his lips turning down slightly. "It fits with our plan, though."
Daphne glanced at him, her eyes hard with resolve. "Help me take down the wards," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Together, they dismantled the magical protections with a practised ease, a testament to their skills and determination. Once done, Rigel turned to Daphne, his gaze softening for a moment. "You must be itching for this," he said, understanding the depth of her emotions. "It's been a long time coming." He gestured to the door with a nod. "Ladies first."
Drawing her wand with a swift, fluid motion, Daphne aimed at the door. "Bombarda," she pronounced clearly, the spell erupting from her wand and obliterating the door into splinters. The room beyond was plunged into chaos as their parents woke up, startled and afraid.
Her father, disoriented and blinking against the sudden intrusion, managed to call out, "Who are you?" His voice was laced with fear and confusion, not recognising the masked figures standing in the doorway of his bedroom.
Daphne, her face a mask of fury thinly veiled by the actual mask she wore, stepped into the room, her wand still pointed at her parents. "I'm here to end this," she declared, her voice cold and unyielding.
Her father, desperation etching his features, scrambled for his wand. With a swift movement born of pure reflex, he aimed it at Daphne, initiating a duel that was doomed from the start. Spells hurtled through the air, each carrying a lethal purpose, yet Daphne, with her unmatched skills and unwavering resolve, effortlessly outmanoeuvred him. Rigel, fully aware of the gravity of the confrontation and understanding that Daphne needed to confront this challenge on her own, stood ready in the shadows, his stance poised and vigilant. Though his features were obscured by his mask, rendering his expression a mystery, his eyes never left the duel. He was tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring, prepared to leap into action should the situation spiral out of control.
The duel was over almost as quickly as it had begun, with her father lying on the ground, disarmed and bruised, a look of fear and defeat in his eyes. Panting, he looked up at Daphne, now a formidable figure of vengeance. "What do you want? Gold? Artefacts?" he offered, his voice shaky with fear and desperation.
Daphne laughed, a sound devoid of any humour, and slowly removed her mask, revealing her identity. The shock and anger on her parents' faces were palpable, especially her father's, whose pride suffered an additional blow upon being outduelled by his own daughter. Rigel too, removed his mask.
She looked down at them with disdain. "I could endure your mistreatment," Daphne said, her voice steady and filled with contempt, "but I won't allow you to do the same to Astoria."
Her father, pride wounded and anger flaring, addressed her sharply, but Daphne was quicker. With a flick of her wand, she cast a bone-breaking curse on his leg, silencing him with his own cries of pain.
"I hope you rot in hell," she spat out, her eyes glinting with a mix of triumph and sorrow. With another swift movement, she stunned both her parents, leaving them unconscious on the floor.
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the gravity of their actions and the irrevocable step they had taken to protect what was dear to them. Daphne turned to Rigel, her expression hard yet vulnerable, knowing they had crossed a line from which there was no return.
Rigel, seeing the turmoil and resolution mixed in Daphne's eyes, pulled her into a comforting embrace. "You did great," he whispered, his voice a solid presence amidst the chaos of their actions. "To have closure, you should be the one to finish this."
She nodded, a silent agreement to his unspoken request, and stepped back from him. Turning towards the bed where her parents lay stunned, she raised her wand and said, "Incendio." The bed caught fire instantly, the flames hungrily licking at the fabric before spreading to the other furniture. Within moments, the entire room was engulfed in flames, the fire consuming everything, including her parents.
Leaving the manor behind, Rigel and Daphne stood in the garden, watching as the flames consumed what once was a home of pain and suffering. Rigel turned to her, a sombre determination in his eyes. "And now for the finishing touch," he said, aiming his wand at the sky, ready to cast the Dark Mark, a symbol that would mislead any investigation towards the Death Eaters.
However, just as he was about to speak the incantation, a soft 'plop' drew their attention. It was Flixie, the family elf, appearing before them with a look of confusion and fear. She approached Daphne, her eyes wide and teary. "Mistress, what are your Orders?" she asked timidly, her voice betraying her realisation of what had transpired inside, acknowledging Daphne's new status through her parents' demise.
Daphne crouched down to meet Flixie at eye level, her expression softening for the elf who had shown her kindness in a household devoid of it. "Flixie, you were the only one who was ever nice to me," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You even sneaked me extra food when they starved me. For that, I thank you." Daphne then removed her shoe, took off her sock, and held it out to Flixie, offering her freedom in the most tangible form she could.
Just as Flixie reached out to take the sock, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and gratitude, Daphne pointed her wand at her. "Obliviate," she said softly. Flixie's eyes glazed over for a moment before she grabbed the sock and popped away.
Rigel looked at Daphne, a mixture of surprise and admiration in his eyes. "What did you do?" he asked, even though he had a good guess.
Daphne turned to him, a determined glint in her eye. "I removed her memory of tonight's events and replaced them with a memory of my father releasing her from service. Just in case anyone ever meets and questions her," she explained, her voice firm.
Rigel's smile broadened, and he leaned in to give her a quick kiss. "Genius," he murmured, his voice filled with pride and love for the woman who had shown strength and compassion even in their darkest moment.
Rigel, with a solemn determination, placed his mask back over his face and gestured for Daphne to do the same. Once they were both hidden behind their anonymous facades once more, he pointed his wand towards the dark sky above the burning manor. "Morsmordre," he intoned clearly, the forbidden incantation that would summon the Dark Mark, the symbol of terror that had once been the hallmark of Voldemort's reign. As the sinister skull and serpent appeared above the manor, casting a greenish glow over the night, it signified to any who saw it that death had visited this place.
Knowing it was only a matter of time before the Aurors arrived to investigate, Rigel extended his arm to Daphne. She took it without hesitation, and with the familiar, disorienting squeeze of apparition, they vanished into the night.
They reappeared at the appointed apparition point in Knockturn Alley, a place far removed from the prying eyes of the law and those with a penchant for heroics. Quickly, they made their way to a pub known as "The Shadowed Kettle." Unlike the Leaky Cauldron with its welcoming warmth and chatter, The Shadowed Kettle was a place where the air was thick with secrecy and the light seemed reluctant to illuminate too much. The patrons, a mix of the disreputable and those seeking to avoid notice, paid them no mind as they entered. The barkeeper, a man with a face as hard as the life he'd led, merely nodded at their approach. He knew better than to ask questions, especially from those who frequented his establishment looking to escape notice.
Rigel handed the barkeeper a small pouch of coins, the clink of the gold sufficient to secure their passage without the need for further discussion. With a nod of appreciation, the barkeeper indicated towards the pub's floo, a grimy fireplace accustomed to a level of activity that far surpassed the ordinary. Before stepping into the emerald flames, Daphne, ever mindful of their need for discretion, swiftly cast a quick privacy charm around them, ensuring their destination remained a secret. Then, with a shared glance that spoke volumes of their bond, Rigel and Daphne stepped forward, the green fire enveloping them as they called out their destination.
They emerged in their suite at Hogwarts, the familiar surroundings a stark contrast to the night's events. Quickly, they shed their Order robes and masks, along with the rest of their clothes, and slipped into bed as if it had been nothing out of the ordinary.
~~~o~~~
The very next day, as the morning sun cast a soft glow over the grounds of Hogwarts, an owl from the Ministry of Magic found its way to Daphne. The letter it delivered bore the official seal, and within it contained the news of her parents' death, thereby officially recognising her as the new head of the Greengrass family. Despite the gravity of the situation, there was a procedural formality to be addressed: as Daphne was not yet of age, she was required to appoint a Regent to manage the affairs of the house until she came of age.
For Daphne, the choice was clear and immediate. Rigel, already poised to become Lord Greengrass upon their marriage and a figure of considerable power and acumen in his own right, was the natural selection. Moreover, the decision mirrored their deep trust and partnership, further solidifying their united front within the intricate tapestry of pureblood politics. Thus, with a sense of resolve, Daphne appointed Rigel as her Regent, a decision that was met with approval from those who understood the significance of such alliances.
In the days that followed, the attack on Greengrass Manor was covered extensively in the Daily Prophet. The public response was a mixture of shock and sympathy, with many of Daphne and Astoria's schoolmates and acquaintances offering their condolences. However, among their closer circle of friends and allies, there was an unspoken understanding that neither sister mourned the loss deeply. The circumstances surrounding their parents' demise were complex, and the relief they felt was palpable, albeit cloaked in the expected veneer of grief.
Astoria, in particular, found a silver lining in the tragedy. Freed from the looming threat of an unwanted betrothal, she expressed a candid relief, though she lamented the loss of her possessions to the fire, cursing the Death Eaters with a light-hearted ferocity.
With Greengrass Manor reduced to ashes, it was decided that Astoria would now reside at Black Castle. This arrangement, brought about by dire circumstances, was a source of genuine happiness for both sisters. The prospect of spending the summers together, without the shadow of their parents' influence, offered a newfound freedom and a chance to strengthen their bond in the sanctuary that Black Castle provided.
As the academic year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry neared its end, the pressure of impending exams became palpable throughout the castle. For Astoria, Ginny, and Luna, the end-of-year exams cast a looming shadow, demanding their attention and diligence. Harry, Hermione, Neville, Tracey, and Daphne faced the daunting challenge of the Ordinary Wizarding Levels (OWLs), their studies consuming much of their time and energy. Meanwhile, Rigel, along with Fred and George, approached the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests (NEWTs) with a notable lack of concern, their focus elsewhere amidst the tumult of their final year.
Amidst this academic fervour, the activities of the Order of the Black Cat came to a temporary standstill. The only exception was Tonks, who continued her spy work within the Order of the Phoenix and the Auror Department, her dual roles critical to their shared cause. Training sessions for the Order of the Black Cat were officially suspended, a necessary hiatus as each member dedicated themselves to their studies. Plans for future recruitment were briefly discussed, with Ernie, Hermione's boyfriend, identified as the next and likely final member to be initiated into their inner circle, privy to their true identities. Future recruits would only know the members by their codenames, a precautionary measure to safeguard their operations and maintain the anonymity essential for their clandestine activities.
Tonks, ever the bearer of crucial intelligence, relayed that the investigation into the demise of the Greengrass family was unfolding exactly as Rigel had anticipated. The official narrative pointed to the Death Eaters aligning perfectly with their staged evidence. This outcome was a testament to their meticulous planning and execution, ensuring no suspicion fell upon Daphne or Rigel, even within their trusted circle of friends, the truth of their involvement remained a closely guarded secret, one that Rigel intended to keep indefinitely.
She also relayed that the aftermath of the battle in the Warehouse, a skirmish between them and the Death Eaters, had caught the Aurors' attention. The Aurors suspected the involvement of a third, unidentified party, but, fortunately, had no leads as to who it might be. This news was to be expected, yet it underscored the delicate balance their operations required. It was a relief, however, that the Aurors had no solid lead pointing toward them. This piece of intelligence was crucial, reminding Rigel of the need for increased caution and discretion in their future endeavours.
~~~o~~~
One serene evening, the sitting room of Rigel and Daphne's suite at Hogwarts was a picture of tranquillity and warmth. Huddled together on the sofa, Daphne was engrossed in a hefty tome, her preparation for the OWLs evident in the way her brow furrowed in concentration. Rigel, meanwhile, found a comforting rhythm in softly playing with her hair, their silence a testament to the deep understanding and affection between them.
Breaking the silence, Rigel suggested, "After the year ends, and we're done with the OWLs and NEWTs, we should sort through Umbridge's memories. It's time we identified more corrupt Ministry officials and placed bribes as needed." His voice was calm, but the underlying strategy was clear – they were not just students, but players in a larger game, shaping their influence within the wizarding world.
Daphne nodded, her mind already turning over the implications. "It's a good way to solidify our influence," she agreed, the weight of their future actions settling comfortably between them, a shared burden they were both prepared to carry.
Suddenly, the cosy atmosphere was pierced by the soft 'pop' of apparition as Kreacher, the Black family's loyal house-elf, appeared. "A letter has arrived for Master Rigel," he announced, his voice carrying the usual blend of respect and solemnity.
Taking the letter from Kreacher with a word of thanks, Rigel watched as the elf bowed and disappeared with another 'pop'. The seal of the Ministry of Magic on the envelope was ominous, and as Rigel tore it open, the contents confirmed their worst suspicions.
The letter was a summons to a hearing on the first day of their OWLs/NEWTs, concerning an issue with the Greengrass family finances and taxes. The Ministry suspected a fault and, as the new Regent Greengrass and the current head of the family, Rigel and Daphne were required to attend and assist in resolving the matter.
Attached to the letter was a note, offering an alternative date during their summer holidays for them to retake their OWLs/NEWTs, a small concession to the inconvenience this hearing posed.
Daphne sighed, the stress of exams now compounded by this unexpected complication. Rigel, however, tried to find a silver lining. "I prefer to take them at the Ministry—no waiting time for other students and quieter too," he mused, trying to lighten the mood. Yet, his brow furrowed in concern. "This tax thing worries me, though."
Their evening of quiet study and comfort was overshadowed by the looming threat of Ministry scrutiny, a reminder of the challenges they faced not just within the school walls but in the broader world beyond.
The next few weeks seemed to blur into a whirlwind of preparation and anticipation, the days melding into one another as the time for OWLs and NEWTs rapidly approached. Amidst the hustle of study sessions and last-minute revisions, Daphne and Rigel found themselves caught in a maelstrom of obligations, not least of which was the upcoming hearing at the Ministry.
On the day of the hearing, they retreated to their suite at lunchtime to prepare. Their attire was meticulously chosen, with Daphne donning a stunning dress complemented by carefully selected jewellery and makeup, while Rigel wore a tailored suit that accentuated his sophisticated demeanour. They understood the importance of appearances, especially within the hallowed halls of the Ministry.
It was then that Harry, seeking a momentary refuge from his own tumultuous thoughts, decided to visit. His recent nights had been plagued by nightmares, a stark contrast to the control he'd learned through Snape's rigorous Occlumency lessons. The weight of the upcoming exams, coupled with the omnipresent threat of Voldemort, had taken its toll, driving him to seek solace in the company of his brother, his anchor in the storm.
Upon entering the suite, Harry was momentarily taken aback by the impressive figures cut by Daphne and Rigel. Though he initially thought their attire might be a bit much for a mere hearing, he recognised the strategy behind it — the power of a well-crafted image.
Rigel, noticing Harry's entrance, greeted him with a warmth that seemed to fill the room. "Harry, what brings you here? We've got to head out soon," he said, his voice imbued with a gentle concern, the underlying reminder of their impending departure hanging softly between them.
Harry hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting from Rigel to Daphne and back again, before the words began to tumble out. "I... It's just everything, you know? The OWLs are coming up, and there's always the shadow of Voldemort looming over us. And the nightmares... They've been worse lately," he admitted, the weight of his worries momentarily etched across his young face.
Rigel's expression softened further, understanding all too well the burden Harry bore. "Harry, you've got nothing to fear with the OWLs. You're more than prepared," he reassured, his tone confident yet soothing. "As for Voldemort, we'll face him together when the time comes. And those nightmares," he paused, his smile returning, albeit tinged with a hint of resolve, "they'll stop. The most important thing to remember is that we're here for you, always."
Harry, visibly comforted by Rigel's assurances, hesitated before venturing into another territory of his concerns. "There's something else... can I ask you something?" he ventured, curiosity laced with a hint of concern in his tone.
Daphne exchanged a brief, meaningful glance with Rigel, a silent conversation passing between them before she turned back to Harry with a gentle smile. "You can always ask us anything, Harry. We're family, after all," she reassured, her voice soft yet laden with an openness that invited him to share his thoughts and worries without reservation.
Harry lingered on the edge of his thoughts before carefully broaching the subject that had been weighing on his mind. "I've noticed you both seem different lately. More... preoccupied," he said, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and concern. The change was subtle but significant, a deviation from the norm that had not escaped his notice.
Upon hearing Harry's observation, Daphne and Rigel shared a look, a moment of silent communication that seemed to carry an entire conversation within it. Daphne then turned towards Rigel, her hand reaching up to gently caress his cheek in a gesture that was both intimate and revealing. "Harry," she began, her voice soft yet filled with a warmth that seemed to wrap around them, "Rigel and I... we've found a new depth to our bond. We can share sensations — feel what the other is feeling." She smiled, a touch of wonder in her eyes. "It's brought us closer, yes, but it's also something we've had to learn to control. It can be overwhelming, feeling not just your own emotions and sensations but someone else's as well."
This revelation, shared in a moment of vulnerability and trust, underscored the strength of their relationship, not only with each other but with Harry as well. In the sanctity of their suite, amidst the chaos of their lives, they found strength in their unity, a testament to the bonds that tethered them together in the face of the challenges that lay ahead.
Rigel, after sharing this intimate detail of their relationship with Harry, gave Daphne a quick, affectionate kiss, signalling it was time for them to leave. "We should head out now. Hopefully, we'll be back by dinner," he said, optimism threading through his words. Turning to Harry, he clapped him on the back, a brotherly gesture filled with encouragement. "Good luck with your OWLs, mate."
Harry, momentarily distracted from the weight of his own concerns, managed a small smile. "I hope the hearing won't be too boring for you," he quipped, finding a small comfort in the banality of bureaucratic proceedings.
Rigel couldn't help but groan at the prospect, his expression betraying his dread. "I'll probably have to fight to not fall asleep," he admitted, the thought of enduring hours in a stuffy courtroom less than appealing.
Daphne playfully chastised him, her tone light and teasing. "Behave," she warned with a smile, before the two of them stepped into the fireplace, ready to floo to the Ministry.
Upon arrival at the Ministry of Magic, Rigel extended his arm to Daphne, a gesture of solidarity and support. She linked her arm with his, and together they made their way towards the iconic fountain in the Ministry's atrium. To their surprise, the usual security checkpoint, manned by an Auror to check wands and ensure visitors had legitimate business, was unattended. Given it was lunchtime, they didn't dwell on it too much, assuming the guard might have stepped away for a break. They passed the empty desk without issue and headed straight for the elevator.
Inside the elevator, which they found to be eerily empty except for themselves, Daphne remarked on the unusual quietness of the Ministry. "It's surprisingly empty today," she noted, the silence amplifying her observation.
Rigel shrugged off the eerie quiet of the Ministry, his gaze fixed ahead as they stood together in the elevator. Daphne, looking around at the empty space, turned to him with a question that mirrored her curiosity and slight unease. "Which courtroom did they assign for our hearing?" she asked, her voice echoing slightly in the confined space.
"Courtroom Ten," Rigel replied without missing a beat, a wry smile touching his lips. "The Ministry sure loves that courtroom lately," he added, his voice tinged with sarcasm. It was clear he found the Ministry's preference for the dramatic setting somewhat amusing, if not overly predictable.
As the elevator descended into the depths of the Ministry, the atmosphere grew increasingly sombre, the silence a stark contrast to the bustling activity that usually characterised the building. The couple stood side by side, united and ready to face whatever the hearing would bring, their journey taking them deeper into the heart of the Ministry's judicial labyrinth.
~~~o~~~
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was bathed in the diffused light of countless floating candles, their flickering flames casting a serene glow over the rows of students hunched over their parchment. Harry, his brow furrowed in concentration, was among them, his quill moving steadily as he tackled the final questions of his History of Magic OWL. This subject, notoriously tedious and detail-heavy, had demanded an exhaustive amount of revision from him, far beyond the practical magic at which he excelled. Yet, as the exam drew to a close, he found a rhythm, his answers flowing more freely than he'd dared hope.
Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced his temples, a sensation so intense it seemed to fracture his very vision. The Great Hall, with its ancient stones and arched windows, blurred into an indistinct haze. Harry's grip on his quill slackened as he was wrenched away from the familiar surroundings of Hogwarts and thrust into an entirely different reality.
He found himself standing in a dimly lit room, surrounded by towering shelves crammed with crystal balls. Each shelf was meticulously numbered, but one in particular caught his eye—a shelf marked with the number 97. The atmosphere was thick with a sense of foreboding, reminiscent of the chilling experience when he had witnessed Mr. Weasley's attack in a vision.
Amidst this eerie tranquillity, a horrifying scene unfolded before Harry's eyes. Daphne lay motionless on the cold floor, her form cradled by a spreading pool of blood. Rigel, his expression a mask of anguish and despair, knelt beside her, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Standing over them, exuding an aura of malevolence, was Voldemort, his wand drawn and his face twisted in a cold sneer.
Voldemort's voice, icy and devoid of empathy, cut through the silence. "If you wish to save her," he addressed Rigel, his words laced with a venomous promise, "then you will assist me in retrieving the Prophecy. Choose, Rigel. Her life for your cooperation."
Rigel's face, a portrait of torment, seemed on the verge of capitulation, yet before a word could escape his lips, the vision shifted violently. Harry felt as though he was being expelled from the scene, propelled backward through space and time.
He tumbled out of a door, crashing onto the floor with a jolt that momentarily anchored him back in reality. However, this was no ordinary door; it was the door—the one that had persistently invaded his nightmares, its meaning elusive and haunting until this very moment. As Harry's senses began to steady, the stark, imposing corridor of the Ministry of Magic came into focus, leading directly to Courtroom Ten, the site of Umbridge's notorious trial. The realisation struck him with an icy dread; this was not merely a figment of his nightmares but a pressing vision. Rigel and Daphne were indeed at the Ministry today, entangled in some bureaucratic snare. But before he could process this revelation further, a wave of darkness surged over him, and everything went black.