CHAPTER NINE | PHOENIX

"Let my death be a long and magnificent life."

- atticus

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Rigel smirks as he stalks through the valleys late at night. The moonlight barely reveals the path in front of him. He ensures to avoid the puddles and garbage littering the ground in order to not make any noise—the slightest noise could alert his prey that he is near. He has kept his promise to Dumbledore and has been feeding him information for the last few months. The Order of the Phoenix successfully stopped numerous assassinations, massacres, and raids with his help.  He sticks to the outside walls of the buildings and out of the street lights to keep himself hidden. His prey is stumbling about, muttering under their breath about something while taking another swig out of their alcoholic drink. Once the drunk person trips and falls into the shadows of the alley, Rigel strikes. He casts the body binding spell wordlessly and wandlessly, smirking at the look of terror on Nott's face. "Hello there." He crouches down next to Nott and takes out his wand. He harshly strokes it across Nott's face and imagines the various ways he could murder the man before him. "You don't remember what you did to me, but you took away someone very dear to me." He whispers, shuffling in his pocket for a moment, and pulls out some Veritaserum. He opens Nott's mouth and pours the potion in before undoing the body binding spell on him. Nott attempts to scurry away; however, Rigel is quicker. "Cruico." He states. "Silencio." Nott writhes in pain on the wet ground, his face turning bright red as it contorts. Rigel makes Nott suffer for a few moments before undoing the spells. He watches emotionlessly as Nott struggles to regain his senses. "I am only going to say this once: run from me, and I will make you regret it."

"What do you want?" Nott snarls, lifting his upper body onto his elbows. His eyes glare daggers into Rigel.

"I've heard rumors of a secret meeting. Something important. Something the Dark Lord hasn't shared with all of us. Do you know anything about it?" He questions, trying to find more information to feed Dumbledore.

"Yes. It's in the Forbidden Forest. It is tonight. All the top dogs will be there. It's said to be something that'll change the tide of the war." Nott's face contorts once more as he attempts to fight the truth potion off.

"What is the meeting about?" Rigel asks. Nott grits his teeth but struggles to fight the potion off.

"The Dark Lord...he's getting ready for something big. The Ministry... the Muggles... he's got plans, and they don't involve the likes of us knowing every little detail." Nott hisses.

"Will you be there?" Rigel inquires, a plan forming in his brain on how to access the meeting he was not told about.

"Yes," Nott replies. Rigel smirks and once again, casts the body binding spell on Nott.

"Thank you, Nott. You've been most informative. Unfortunately, you will not be attending the meeting. I will." Rigel reaches down and rips a piece of Nott's hair out. "I do hope someone finds you soon." He fakes a sympathetic smile, pointing his wand at Nott's forehead while stepping behind him. "Obliviate." Rigel focuses on ensuring that this entire encounter and the information about the secret meeting is wiped from his brain. Once he is sure the job is done, he leaves Nott on the cold, wet ground with hope that no one will find him.

Maybe he will perish due to weather conditions or hunger if the spell lasts long enough. Rigel glances around, looking for any suspicuous characters that may be following him. With no one around, he apparates to his apartment. He heads in and walks over to the cauldrons full of nearly made polyjuice potion. He carefully adds Nott's hair, follows the directions and grimaces. The potion smells and looks horrible which means it will likely taste horrible as well. He plugs his nose, chugging the potion down. He grunts and stumbles to the side as the potion begins to take effect. He shakes his body out before apparating to Hogsmeade.

He sticks to the shadows, trying to desperately make his way to the Forbidden Forest without being spotted. If he is, this entire plan goes up in flames. As Rigel moves through the darkened paths of Hogsmeade, he keeps his eyes peeled for any familiar faces. He tugs the hood of his cloak lower over his forehead, concealing Nott's now-replicated features as best as he can. Every step takes him closer to the Forbidden Forest, and closer to the heart of the Dark Lord's plans. He hears speaking and finds a group of Death Eaters gathering. He slips out of the shadows and walks with purpose, making his way to the clearing where the meeting is set to take place.

The clearing is already half-full of Death Eaters. Their dark cloaks rustle in the night air, and their voices are low, tense with anticipation. Rigel forces himself to walk confidently, adopting Nott's usual cold demeanor. He catches a few nods of acknowledgment from the others and returns them, doing his best to blend in. Bellatrix Lestrange shoots him a sharp look as he approaches, her eyes glinting with that familiar madness. "Nott," she sneers, "finally decided to show your face, did you?" Rigel tries to not panic at the sight of his cousin—someone who he use to hold dear to his heart before the madness took over her mind.

"I wouldn't miss it," he says, keeping his tone as flat and indifferent as possible. Bellatrix eyes him for a moment longer, then turns her attention back to the gathering crowd. As more Death Eaters arrive, Rigel finds a place near the back of the group, not too close to draw attention but close enough to hear everything.

Finally, the Dark Lord himself appears, stepping out from the shadows like a wraith. The Death Eaters immediately fall silent, their heads bowing in unison. Rigel forces himself to do the same, even though every instinct screams at him to flee. But he knows he must play the part perfectly—one wrong move, and he's dead. Voldemort's presence is as chilling as ever. His eyes sweep over the gathered crowd, his expression unreadable. "My loyal followers," he begins, his voice soft yet commanding. "Tonight marks a turning point in our struggle. The Ministry, the Muggles, and the Order of the Phoenix—all will fall before us." The Death Eaters murmur their approval. Voldemort continues, outlining the plan for a coordinated strike on the Ministry. The attack is set to happen soon, and the scale of it is massive. It's clear that Voldemort is determined to end the war on his terms. But then, just as Rigel is absorbing the information, Voldemort's tone shifts. "However," he hisses, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "I have reason to believe there is a traitor among us. Someone who has been feeding information to the enemy."

Rigel forces himself to remain still, to not show any signs of fear. The other Death Eaters glance around nervously, their eyes darting to each other, trying to figure out who the traitor could be. Voldemort's gaze sweeps over the crowd, lingering for just a moment on each face. When his eyes meet Rigel's—Nott's—he feels a jolt of fear, but he keeps his expression neutral, just another loyal follower in the Dark Lord's ranks. "We will find this traitor," Voldemort continues, "and they will suffer the consequences of their betrayal." Rigel swallows hard, keeping his breathing steady. He knows he's on borrowed time—Voldemort's suspicion is growing, and it's only a matter of time before he's found out. The meeting begins to wind down, with Voldemort giving final instructions to his followers. Rigel remains quiet, blending in with the others as they prepare to leave. As soon as it's safe, he'll make his escape and deliver the crucial information to Dumbledore.

But as the Death Eaters begin to disperse, Bellatrix suddenly approaches him again, her eyes gleaming with suspicion. "Nott," she says in that high-pitched, dangerous voice, "I didn't see you at the last meeting. Where were you?"

Rigel forces a smirk, adopting the same arrogance he's seen Nott use. "Handling personal business. You know how it is, Bellatrix."

She narrows her eyes. She is clearly not satisfied with the answer. "Personal business? At a time like this?"

"Do you doubt my loyalty?" Rigel counters while keeping his voice even. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

Bellatrix stares at him for a long moment and finally lets out a dark laugh. "Just don't make a habit of it, Nott. The Dark Lord doesn't appreciate tardiness."

Rigel nods as he forces a smile. "Of course not." With that, Bellatrix finally turns away, leaving Rigel to breathe a silent sigh of relief. As the last of the Death Eaters Disapparate, Rigel follows suit, Apparating back to his hideout the moment he's sure no one is watching. Rigel sits down, his mind racing with the implications of what he's learned.

The attack, the traitor, Voldemort's suspicions—it's all closing in on him. He needs to act fast, but he knows that every move he makes from here on out will be under the Dark Lord's watchful eye.

There's no room for mistakes. Not anymore.

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Rigel sits in the dim light of his hideout. Balancing his double life is becoming increasingly dangerous. On one hand, he is feeding crucial information to Dumbledore. On the other, the Dark Lord has started sending him on secret solo missions—tasks so delicate and vital that they couldn't be trusted to just anyone.

Tonight, he was supposed to meet Dumbledore again. He had news of the impending attack on the Ministry, details that could turn the tide of the war if handled correctly. But first, he has to complete another mission for Voldemort—an assassination in a remote part of Scotland. A former Death Eater who had gone into hiding, seeking to escape the Dark Lord's wrath.

He prepares quickly, donning his robes and gathering his supplies. He tucks a small vial of Veritaserum into his pocket—just in case—and then set out. Apparating to the Scottish Highlands, Rigel finds himself standing on a windswept moor, the wind howling around him like a pack of wolves. The target's hideout is nearby, nestled in the rugged landscape. He moves silently, his wand at the ready, his senses alert for any sign of danger. He has no doubt the former Death Eater will be expecting trouble, but Rigel has become adept at slipping past defenses, blending into the night like a shadow.

The hideout is a small, crumbling cottage, half-hidden by the surrounding hills. The windows are dark, but Rigel can sense the presence inside—a faint aura of fear and desperation. He creeps closer, careful to avoid making any noise. When he reaches the door, he paused, listening. Inside, he can hear the soft shuffle of footsteps, the creak of floorboards. With a flick of his wand, he cast a Silencing Charm on the door, ensuring it won't betray him when he enters. He turns the handle slowly, inching the door open, and then slips inside.

The interior of the cottage is sparse, with little more than a worn table and chair, a small bed in the corner, and a fireplace where embers glowed faintly. The man he sought stood near the table, staring into the fire, his back to Rigel. He is older, his shoulders hunched with the weight of years and regret. Rigel raises his wand, but hesitates for just a moment. This man had once fought for Voldemort, but now he was a broken figure, seeking escape from the darkness that had consumed him. Rigel knows he had to complete the mission, but something about the scene makes him pause.

The man suddenly turns, his eyes wide with shock as he saw Rigel standing there, wand raised. "Please," he whispers, "I left that life behind. I don't want any part of it anymore." Rigel's heart pounds. He can't afford to show mercy, not with Voldemort watching his every move now.

"Tell me what you know," Rigel says, his voice low and steady. "Everything. Then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you live."

The man hesitates, his eyes flicking to the door, calculating his chances of escape. But Rigel knows he wouldn't make it far. After a moment, the man sighs, slumping into the chair. "I'll tell you, but it won't make a difference. The Dark Lord is planning something... something terrible. I don't know all the details, but I've heard whispers. He's been experimenting, trying to find a way to make himself truly invincible."

Rigel's grip on his wand tightens. This is new information, something even Dumbledore hadn't mentioned. "How? What is he doing?"

The man shakes his head. "I don't know. But whatever it is, it's unnatural. Dark magic like nothing we've ever seen before. If he succeeds... no one will be able to stop him." Rigel feels a cold knot form in his stomach. This isn't just about the war anymore—this is about something far more dangerous. He needs to get this information to Dumbledore, and quickly.

He steps closer, his wand still pointed at the man. "I believe you. But I can't let you go. If the Dark Lord finds out you're still alive—"

The man looks up, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Then do it. End it now." Rigel hesitates for only a second before casting the killing curse.

With the mission complete, Rigel Apparates back to the prearranged meeting point with Dumbledore, a secluded glen just outside of Hogsmeade. When he arrives, Dumbledore is already waiting, his blue eyes twinkling with concern beneath his half-moon glasses. "Rigel," Dumbledore said softly, "you look troubled. What have you learned?" Rigel quickly relays the details of Voldemort's plan for the Ministry attack, along with the new information about his experiments. Dumbledore listens in silence, his expression growing graver with each word. "This is worse than I feared," Dumbledore finally says. "If Voldemort is truly seeking invincibility, we may not have much time left. We must act swiftly." As Rigel turns to leave, Dumbledore places a hand on his shoulder. "You have done well, Rigel. But be careful. The Dark Lord is not the only one who is watching you. Take care that you do not lose yourself in the darkness." Rigel meets Dumbledore's gaze, the old man's words resonating deeply within him. He knows the path he is walking is perilous, and that every step could be his last. But for now, he has to keep going, for the Order, for the war, and for the slim chance that he can help turn the tide against Voldemort.

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Regulus observes his twin, taking in the hollowness of his cheeks and the lifeless glint in his eyes. Rigel has not been the same since the death of Mary—their relationship hadn't been the same either. Their talks are short and cold.

"I have a dumb idea." Regulus softly states, staring outside at the birds flying in the sky.

"How dumb is it?" Rigel asks, just as softly.

"So dumb that we'll likely die." He replies. Rigel turnes to look at his twin, searching Regulus's face for any sign of what might be on his mind. The room was quiet except for the distant chirping of birds outside the window, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had hung between them for months. Since Mary's death, Rigel had felt a void growing within him, swallowing up the parts of him that once cared, once loved, once hoped. Even now, sitting across from his brother, he felt miles away, isolated in his own grief and guilt.

But Regulus's words—'we'll likely die'—stirs something in him, a flicker of curiosity or perhaps desperation. Death had been a constant companion lately, and if there is one thing Rigel had learned, it was that the line between life and death was thinner than he had ever imagined. Rigel leans forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me, Reg. What's your idea?"

Regulus finally looks away from the window, meeting Rigel's gaze. His expression is serious, more serious than Rigel had seen in a long time. "Horcruxes," he says quietly. "I think I know how Voldemort is trying to make himself invincible."

Rigel's breath catches. He had heard rumors, whispered in dark corners and hidden in the cracks of old tomes, about Horcruxes—objects in which a dark wizard could hide a piece of their soul, making themselves nearly impossible to kill. But to hear Regulus say it out loud made the horror of it all too real. "And you think Voldemort's made them?" Rigel asks, though he already knew the answer. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, the experiments, the twisted magic—the obsession with immortality.

"I'm certain of it," Regulus replies, his voice steady but grim. "And if we don't find them and destroy them, he'll never be defeated. Not truly."

"How do you know?" Rigel asks, though part of him wondered if it even mattered. If Regulus is right, they are standing on the edge of a precipice, and the only way forward was to jump.

Regulus hesitates, his eyes flickering with a mixture of fear and resolve. "I overheard something... something I wasn't supposed to. A conversation between two Death Eaters. They didn't know the full details, but they mentioned... a locket. And a cup. Both hidden away, protected by the darkest magic imaginable."

"A locket and a cup," Rigel repeats, his mind racing. "Do you know where they are?"

Regulus glances at Kreacher. "Only one. Kreacher was with the Dark Lord when he hid the locket. He was forced to help, but he came back and told me everything."

Kreacher bows low, his large, watery eyes filled with sorrow and loyalty. "Kreacher took the Dark Lord to the cave where the he hid the locket. Kreacher drank the potion... it hurt Kreacher so much... but Kreacher came back. Kreacher told Master Regulus about the locket, about how it is protected by terrible magic."

"That's how you found out about the locket?" Rigel asks, turning back to his brother.

Regulus nods. "I knew then that Voldemort had made Horcruxes. The locket is one of them. If we can destroy it, we can start to weaken him." Rigel feels the weight of the task ahead settling over him like a heavy cloak. Hunting down Horcruxes is dangerous—possibly suicidal. But what choice do they have? If they don't try, Voldemort will continue to grow stronger, more untouchable. And the world will continue to suffer for it.

He thinks of Mary, of the countless lives lost, and of the emptiness that has settled in his chest since her death. Perhaps this is the way to fill that void, to finally find some meaning in the chaos and destruction that had consumed their world. "I'm in," Rigel says quietly, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at his insides. "Whatever it takes, Reggie. We find that ring, and we destroy it."

Regulus looks at him with a mixture of relief and gratitude, though his expression remains somber. "It won't be easy. The protections on that cave are designed to kill anyone who tries to get to the locket. But if we're careful—"

"We'll do it," Rigel interrupts, his tone resolute. "For Mary. For everyone." The two brothers sit in silence for a moment, the weight of their decision hanging heavy in the air. Outside, the sky darkens as evening approaches, but inside, there is a flicker of hope—a fragile but determined light that refuses to be extinguished.

Kreacher stands by their side, his eyes filled with a fierce loyalty. "Kreacher will help Master Regulus and Master Rigel," he states. "Kreacher will do whatever it takes."

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"Are you sure you don't want to open that?" Remus finds himself asking after seeing Sirius stare blankly at the letter lying on the table in front of him. He recognizes the writing to be Rigel's and he wonders why the younger boy keeps trying to contact Sirius despite receiving no replies to his letters.

Sirius stared blankly at the letter lying on the table, the familiar scrawl of Rigel's handwriting glaring back at him. Remus's question hung in the air, but Sirius's eyes were fixed on the parchment, a turmoil of emotions raging within him.

"Are you sure you don't want to open that?" Remus asks again, his tone gentle but insistent. Sirius's jaw tightens. The pain and anger he feels every time he thinks about Rigel made it hard for him to even consider reading a letter from his brother. He had already made up his mind: Rigel's choices had severed their bond, and no amount of writing could change that.

"No," Sirius says firmly, his voice carrying a finality that brooked no argument. "I don't need to read it. I know what it'll say, and I'm done with it." (Sirius will regret this decision soon, after the news of his brothers' deaths reach his ears.)

Remus's eyes are filled with concern, but he doesn't press further. He watches as Sirius reaches out, gripping the letter in his hands. The paper feels cold and heavy, an unwelcome reminder of a past that Sirius wanted to leave behind. Sirius takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the letter's significance bearing down on him. His heart aches with the knowledge of what Rigel had once meant to him, but the betrayal of Rigel choosing their family and the years of tension between them had eroded that connection. He knows that reading the letter will only reopen wounds he wasn't ready to face. Without another word, Sirius stands up, his movements resolute. He walks to the fireplace, the flames crackling warmly in contrast to the cold resolve within him. With a steady hand, he tosses the letter into the fire, watching as it caught alight and begins to curl and blacken. The flames consume the parchment, turning it into ash that drift up the chimney, disappearing into the air.

He turns away from the fireplace, meeting Remus's gaze with a mixture of sadness and determination. "I'm done with the past," Sirius says. "I can't change it, and I'm not going to keep torturing myself with what could have been. It's time to focus on what needs to be done now."

Remus nods, understanding the weight of Sirius's decision. "Alright, Padfoot. If that's what you need, then we'll move forward. Together."

Unknown to Sirius and Remus, the letter was a final goodbye.

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The night is cloaked in darkness as Rigel and Regulus make their way to the cave. Regulus leads the way with Kreacher trotting beside him, his steps determined despite the danger. Rigel follows closely, his thoughts a whirlwind of strategies and contingencies. They had agreed on the plan: Regulus will retrieve the locket while Rigel stood guard, ready to confront any dangers that lurked within the cave's dark depths.

As they approach the entrance of the cave, Regulus turns to Rigel, his face pale. "Remember, we need to be quick. The protections around the Horcrux are deadly, and I don't know how long I'll be able to hold them off."

Rigel nods, gripping his wand tightly. "Just get the locket. I'll be right here." Regulus takes a deep breath and stepped into the cave, disappearing into the inky darkness. Rigel waits outside, the silence pressing in around him. He could hear the faint echoes of Regulus's movements as he navigated the treacherous path. Minutes feel like hours as Rigel paces, anxiety gnawing at him. Suddenly, a faint, shimmering light pierces through the darkness of the cave. Rigel's heart leaps; it must be the Horcrux. But the flicker of hope is quickly replaced by a sense of dread as he hears Regulus's voice raised in pain.

"Rigel!" Regulus's voice echoes through the cave, strained and desperate. Rigel rushes forward, his wand at the ready. As he enters the cave, he is met with a sight that freezes him in his tracks. Regulus is struggling against a group of Inferi, the dark, rotting corpses clawing at him from the shadows of the water. The cursed locket lays on the ground by the cave entrance. Regulus must have thrown it.

"No!" Rigel shouts, trying to rush to his brother's side but is stopped by another group of Inferi. The Inferi seem to be relentless, dragging Regulus down with a horrifying, mindless hunger.

"Get the locket!" Regulus's voice was barely audible, choked by the grasp of the Inferi. "You need to—" Rigel's heart races as he fights against the Inferi's relentless advance. Each spell he cast is a desperate bid to push them back, but their decaying hands seem to multiply, dragging Regulus further into the inky depths of the water. Rigel's breath comes in ragged gasps, and the stench of decay is overpowering. He can see Regulus's struggles growing weaker, his movements becoming more feeble. "Kreacher, I order you to get the locket and get Rigel out!" Regulus shouts, his voice cracking with urgency.

The house-elf, his eyes wide with fear and tears, quickly grabs the locket. "Master Rigel, we must leave now!" Rigel's eyes are fixed on Regulus, whose pale face is almost entirely submerged. Desperation claws at him as he casts spell after spell, trying to free his brother from the Inferi's grasp while also protecting himself and Kreacher from their grasps.

In a sudden flash of light, Kreacher grabs Rigel and, with a crack, they disappear from the cave. Rigel barely has time to register the change in surroundings before he is on solid ground, his vision blurred by tears and panic. The realization of their escape hits him with full force, and Rigel's legs give out. He collapses to the ground as he struggles to breathe. The echoes of Regulus's voice and the image of his brother's fading strength haunted him. Rigel's body shakes uncontrollably, his breaths coming in harsh, sobbing gasps.

"Regulus... No..." he chokes out, his voice a broken whisper. He clutches at his hair, his hands trembling, and tears streaming down his face as the grief and helplessness consumed him. Kreacher stands nearby, his own expression one of sorrowful regret. He does not know how to comfort his master, only that the loss is profound and the pain unbearable. A raw, guttural cry of anguish escapes his mouth. "Reggie," he sobs, "I'm so sorry." They knew what they were getting into when they made the decision to grab the locket, but they didn't actually think one of them would die before they even finished school. Rigel stares at the locket while slowly calming down. Regulus's sacrifice will not be in vain. "I need you to get out of here and go destroy that locket. I don't want to ever see it again."

"Of course, Master." With that, Rigel watches as Kreacher disappears into the shadows, carrying the Horcrux with him. Rigel feels a deep void in his chest, the loss of Regulus leaving a gaping wound in his soul.

"What do we have here?" Rigel freezes, and closes his eyes. "Ickle Riggie is the traitor!" For whatever reason, Bellatrix is standing in front of Rigel with her famously wicked grin and crazy eyes.

Rigel knew in that moment, that he would be joining his twin sooner rather than later.

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Rigel finds himself straining to hear the birds singing as his eyes locks onto the wand being pointed at him. He silently wishes that Mary and Regulus are waiting for him on the other side. The woods around him seem to fall silent in anticipation, the only sound the distant, mournful song of the birds. Voldemort stands before him, a cruel grin stretching across his face, with Bellatrix beside him, her usual vengeful and bitter gleam softens momentarily by a flicker of what might have been regret or sadness. Rigel is unsure if his mind was merely playing tricks on him, showing him what he wanted to see—for how could his cousin, who was once his best friend, turn him in?

"I will not ask you again," Voldemort hisses, his voice cold and menacing. "Where is my locket?" (For in this timeline, Rigel—too anguished by his brother's looming doom—was unable to put a fake locket into the bowl to hide the fact that they have stolen it.)

The birds' song seems almost to mourn his fate, their voices forming a beautiful yet sorrowful harmony that resonates with his impending death. Rigel's thoughts drift to the fleeting moments of his past—Mary's laughter, Regulus's determined gaze, and the fleeting hope that had once filled his heart.

"You will never find it," Rigel grins defiantly, his voice steady despite the terror that churns within him. "You may be all-powerful right now, but in the end, you will lose. You will lose everything you worked so hard to have."

Voldemort's eyes narrow, his gaze seething with anger. Without a word, he raises his wand, the green light of the Avada Kedavra curse already forming at its tip. Rigel's heart pounds with a mixture of fear and resignation. "Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort's voice rings out with cold finality. The jet of green light shots toward Rigel, filling his vision. The intensity of the curse is overwhelming, but as it reaches him, a profound sense of coldness washes over him. Rigel's body tenses, his senses dimming as the world around him seems to blur and fade.

The singing of the birds grow faint, their harmonious lament a comforting backdrop to his final moments.

The last thought on Rigel's mind was of Mary, her smile shining in his memory, and of Regulus, his brother's face etched in the corners of his vision. He imagined their embrace waiting for him beyond the veil of death, a sanctuary from the torment and darkness that had defined his final days.

[ "the end is not always the end, my dear—sometimes, it's just the beginning."]