Chapter 2- Fancy Jewellery and a Familiar Bird

Beginning with books, the two travelled down to Flourish and Blott's, entering and ordering the first-year package while the younger of the two looked around the shop. Upon reaching the popular novel section, he froze, staring at a collection of books. "Jasmine Potter, The Hero of Magical Britain." The boy cursed internally, 'Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck. I knew it was a possibility when I found out I was Sirius's kid, but I'd hoped it was relatively canon. If this is an AU, I need to know every discrepancy.' Grabbing the book he races to the counter, "Professor Flitwick, who's this?"

"It will be easier to simply buy it for you than explain," he said, "and I don't have all day with you to explain unfortunately, as I have a meeting in France this afternoon." Moving from shop-to-shop Flitwick bought the required equipment and uniform, which included buying casual wear and trousers for wearing beneath the robes. "A pet is not feasible within the school allowance that is provided for first-years, but perhaps your family might be persuaded to buy you one if only to show off," he said, barely audible at the end. "Now we go to Ollivander's, the birthplace of most if not all of magical Britain's wands. Entering into the room the boy thought back to the scare prank Ollivander was famed for performing, eyes flickering around in search.

"Good morning," a quiet voice spoke from beside Flitwick, causing the professor to twitch slightly. On sight of him the boy couldn't help but reassess the wandmaker, 'The stories made him seem slightly mischievous, and he is, but he looks spooky as. His eyes are a pale, reflective silver that seems to bear into your soul and he has an unblinking stare.' "Hmm," he sounded, looking at Rigel, assessing his arms and noting the hand he used to give a small wave. "A new student ready to be fitted with a wand I believe?"

Without waiting for an answer, he turned, diving behind his desk and pulling out a wand. "Applewood and Unicorn Hair, 9 and a half inches, slightly yielding," the creepy old man said, offering the wand out to the young wizard. A warm brown stick with a slight spiral curve where the thumb would rest if held. Taking the wand, the boy felt like he'd been hit with static electricity, quickly tossing the wand back nearly as soon as his fingers closed around it. "Strong reaction, no matter." Again, finding a wand he provides it to the child. "Dragon Heartstring, 11 and three-quarter inches, of unyielding ebony." While Rigel wasn't electrocuted again, the wand simply lay lifeless, and when waved, created a thick, choking smoke that required the more experienced wizards to vent.

It took almost forty minutes of repeated failures of all cores before Ollivander muttered something about trying the "American wands." "Mister Corvus, you have shown passable acceptance with ebony and yew wood, but none of the cores I use here seems to really connect with you. I do, however, have a few American wands I purchased a few weeks ago for the purpose of study, and 2 of them use the wood you respond with."

As Ollivander places two boxes on the table, Rigel snaps his head to the one on the left, nearly ripping the lid off. Inside was a pale wand, so white it looked like bone. With a thicker handle that tapered into the shaft, the design was beautiful, the handle is made easier to grip with textured scaling, the base a bright blue crystal that sat at the pommel, wrapped halfway in a protective wave of the poisonous wood, the crystal slightly jagged and sharp at the tip. Above the handle, the next inch and a half was a spiral swirl, as if the wand had been melted and then lightly twisted to create the design. "What a strong attraction, very rare indeed. That one there is an exceedingly powerful wand, if somewhat temperamental. 13 inches and unbending, that wand is made from the feather of a thunderbird, excellent for transfiguration, and known to throw curses reflexively when their owner is under attack. The colour of the wand is due to the wand. Yew wood is unfortunately accused of being a dark-suited wand wood, however, has been wielded by many we call heroes. Excellent for duelling and curses, these wands. Yew wands will never bond themselves to a mediocre wizard, or a timid one, so I shall be watching eagerly to see what you become Mr Corvus."

Picking up the wand, Rigel had never felt that good, like enjoying a massage, warm bath and tender hug all at once. He felt amazing. The wand hummed in his grip and with a small flick, summoned an illusory yellow thunderbird, just like the one he'd seen in the more recent movies about Grindelwald. Flitwick looked impressed, though perhaps he was just excited to leave the dark and somewhat depressing store of unbound wands. Purchasing the wand maintenance kit and a three-sickle wand holster, the two leave Ollivander behind and exit the store.

"Are you sure you want to visit the family? I know I told you that they would probably accept you, but your family are known for being…selective."

"He'll either accept me or he won't," the boy said, 'but I really want the heir ring, and the library that comes with the family name. Screwing over Lucius and Draco is also incredibly appealing,' he mused. The professor ducked into the mail office for a moment then returned.

"Now I have his address, to Arcturus, we go." Yet again being exposed to side-along apparation, Rigel considered which was worse, being apparated as a passenger, or being struck by lightning. Honestly, he was struggling to decide. Flitwick walked up to the door, brushing aside a muggle-repellent charm, knocking the brass knocker with magic as he couldn't reach. "This is Professor Flitwick of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I would like to speak with Arcturus Black."

The door opens to reveal Kreacher, still ugly but less so than he was by The Order of The Phoenix, demonstrating the effect being unbound has on a house elf, particularly one being affected by guilt and a horcrux. "Welcome to the noble and most ancient House of Black, what is the purpose of your visit?"

"It is a family matter," the teacher provided, causing the house elf's eyes to widen in shock, nod and bring the two inside.

"Please follow me, good guests." Brought passed a sleeping portrait of Walberga, thank the gods, and up to a small sitting room of upholstered leather and dark hardwood surroundings, they sit. 'Basic procedure is to make the guest wait to show your own importance as they wait for you,' Rigel notes. When the doors open to reveal a tall, elderly man with bright silver hair and weathered features, the two stand. 'I remember that he supposedly died of dragon-pox this year, something I might end up preventing just by existing.

"I am Arcturus Black, what family matters do you speak of?" Rigel simply reached into his pocket slowly and retrieved the inheritance test, passing it to Kreacher, who showed it to his master. "Hmm, a half-blood son of my treasonous grandson. Well, it's definitely a surprise, he was always bragged about how careful he was when with women. What do you expect from me?"

"My mother is dead, has been for over five years. I'd hoped that I could move out of the orphanage, and learn from the family I didn't know I had."

"To take in a half-blood-"

"From what the goblins told me, the family is patrilineal, and only me and my father remain after you." My words bring a small smile to his face.

"Direct and you used a logical argument to combat a weak emotional one. Very good. My sister, Lycoris, would have liked you. You have your supplies?"

"All the necessary supplies," Flitwick answered for Rigel, implying that there may be other things that should be provided.

"What of your wand, describe it to me."

"13-inch, unbending yew with thunderbird feather core."

"A very telling wand child. I may not be a wandmaker, but the wands can reveal more about a person than the persona they choose to reveal. I'm glad your mother kept with our family's naming style, even if you weren't technically part of the family." Hearing the 'weren't' from his great-grandfather, Rigel nearly cheered, and soon Flitwick was sent off to obliviate the caretaker of the orphanage. "First we shall bind you into the family, young Rigel. Kreacher, fetch the heir ring."

"But isn't my father alive?"

"Yes, however, he is currently in Azkaban after killing a dozen muggles and a wizard apparently, and no matter the effort I put into getting the rampant runt a trial, there were so many witnesses and no evidence to the contrary, his wand having been wiped before the investigation could begin. Additionally, your father was violently against this family, refusing the heir ring, and after his brother's death…there hasn't been an official heir." Hearing the explanation it made some sense, the rings were magical artifacts that marked an individual until their death or banishment, and so identified someone as being of the family.

When Kreacher popped back with a beautiful silver and pearl box, Arcturus asked Rigel for confirmation. "Are you ready and willing to become Rigel Sirius Black, to bear the responsibilities the name will bring and the scorn you will face as a result?"

"I'm not ready to take responsibility for the political and business aspects of the title, but I have you to teach me, and I'm willing to accept the fear and hate of others in accepting the name Black."

The ring glowed and floated onto the right middle finger of Rigel, resizing to fit hit fingers without appearing too bulky. The heir ring was polished silver, featuring crows on the sides and a gem so dark it seemed to absorb the light resting in the centre. The house motto, Toujours Pur was inscribed around the silver band that held the gem in position, though Rigel was fairly certain a sledgehammer wouldn't mark the fancy accessory.

"You were right in that I have little choice outside you, with both your father and Narcissa's son being a wild disappointment, Draco also bearing the Malfoy name. So as my new heir, I will prepare you as best as I can to best represent the House of Black. Beginning with clothes." One might have thought that with his age Arcturus would be behind the fashion trends, however, it was distasteful for noble wizards and witches to wear outdated and unfashionable wear, and therefore had several outfits that could resize to fit me. 'Magic clothes,' Rigel thought, 'are so bloody underrated.' Being soft, warm and flexible, the clothes were the epitome of comfort, and with magic, couldn't be stained or covered in pet fur.

After this, the Lord and Heir ate, discussing Rigel's life until that point. Arcturus, having finished his lunch, wrote a letter, that even upside down, Rigel saw was addressed to Dumbledore. "Now that you look like a noble scion, we shall take a trip to buy you a pet, and if you're lucky, a familiar." Noticing the boy's confusion he explained, "Familiars are simply creatures that can bond with a witch or wizard like a wand. They live for as long as their owner does and are more intelligent than other animals, sometimes manifesting magical abilities. An uncle of mine had a cat that was able to increase its size, becoming something similar to a sabre-toothed tiger."

"I assume they aren't often found in Diagon Alley."

"No, they are not," he said with a slight sigh. "Kreacher, bring us to Diagon Alley." Rigel, worried that it would be a repeat of the side-along apparation, tensed and held his breath, only to find the trip relaxed as if he'd simply appeared in the new space rather than getting sucked, twirled and warped through space. "Come along then." The stares the two of them received were ever-present and heavy, not that anyone said a thing, demonstrating the power and reputation of House Black. Rigel watched how his great-grandfather held himself, how he moved, and slowly tried to emulate him, the posture and pace with which he moved, and the confidence with which he looked down on others.

"Welcome to the Magical Menagerie, what can I help you with?"

"My great-grandson is looking for an animal companion, so nothing unless he finds one." Arcturus may be old, but he was still dangerous, and with roughly 50-60 years left in him he was physically imposing too. The clerk sank back in his seat, his service smile, now in contrast to the pale face.

Rigel moved from cage to cage, passing rats, frogs, ferrets and ravens, which he had to admit was the option he would choose if he couldn't find something today. (Yes, I know she was bought from the Owl Emporium, too bad) "Hedwig, hello." The beautiful snowy owl looked at him curiously, but there was nothing, and Rigel didn't want to take Hedwig from Harry, Jasmine, or whoever. Not when he had other options. "There's nothing of interest Grandfather," he said, having decided great-grandfather was both impersonal and too long.

"What about the owl I saw you looking at?"

"She was merely curious, and I don't think she'd suit me, perhaps someone more…lonely." His gaze waving over me as if trying to understand my thought process, he then turns. "We will look elsewhere then." The walk to Knockturn Alley was fairly long, and the darkened street Rigel knew was filled with supernatural beings and shady sellers raised his hackles. "Here you will find a great manner of imported goods, as well as dangerous cursed artifacts." Leading his heir along the street he enters a dingy-looking shop, a small sign bearing the name, "Snake Pit" hanging from one side only. There was no greeting or customer service, but Arcturus didn't seem offended.

"Do you have any familiars?"

"Follow me," the old woman uttered, leading us down into a basement room that was well-lit and clean, despite the upstairs' condition. Similar to the Menagerie, there were cages filled with creatures, however, the entire left side of the room was labelled familiars. Taking his time with each of the creatures, he found a white raven, not an albino, but a glossy white, approximately 70 centimetres (27 inches) tall, inquisitive and intelligent. He could tell by the look in its eyes that the bird was intelligent, even for a raven, who were rumoured to be as smart as a 7-year-old human. Petting the raven, he watched as it bonded to him, its eyes shifting from a reflective black to the same glowing blue as his own, the raven somehow growing larger again by another 3 inches.

"Grandfather, this is the familiar I bonded with."

"An impressive creature," he noted, "are there any magical abilities we should be aware of?"

"That familiar there has a method of moving back to its master similar to apparation, ignoring all wards. Designed to save time and act as a last-ditch defence effort, perfect for a young heir bearing your name. Though the white raven isn't inconspicuous, it matches perfectly with the boy, pairing with his wand and eyes. Both the boy and his familiar will be famous, or at least infamous."

"Hopefully Dumbledore agrees, the last time a white raven was made famous, it was because Grindelwald used them on his banner. Kreacher." With a pop, the house elf appeared. "Pay this woman for the familiar and purchase a temporary perch for his dorm." Rigel froze at the mention of schoolhouses. 'Where will I go? I love reading and learning, but I also want to become more powerful than Dumbledore and Voldemort combined. I want the liberation that comes with it, to become a star that outshines all others, as my mother hoped. I could be in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, both equally boring and out of the way of the plot. Pettigrew will still be with Ron in Gryffindor, and by becoming one, I could avoid some of the hatred and fear from other houses, and get closer to the incredibly biased transfiguration teacher.'

Brought out of his internal scheming by Kreacher's return, they leave, arriving home to unload and relax for the rest of the day. But before Rigel slinks back to his allocated bedroom, he asks Arcturus his opinion on becoming a Gryffindor.

"What do you want in life?"

"To shine brighter than any others before me, including Dumbledore."

"That's a lofty goal, very ambitious, and your explanation of using Gryffindor to limit fear and hatred at your name shows cunning." Placing his hand on the young heir's shoulder he continued, "You'll always be a Slytherin, even wearing that ghastly red." He then laughed, "If you end up even half as stubborn as your father, you'd be goat-headed enough to be a chimera," a comment Rigel found amusing himself, as his wand was unbending, demonstrating his stubborn and dedicated will. 'A perfect match with the transfiguration talent, shifting from one state to the next, just as the chimera holds three heads, the lion, the snake and the goat. Hmm, chimera it is then.'