A man in his early sixties entered the gym. He wore a polished black suit and leaned lightly on a cane. His gaze swept across the room, finally settling on Rigel's green eyes rimmed with steel-gray. After all this time, he had found him in a Muggle gym of all places.
Georgei, noticing the man's intense stare at the boy he had taken in as a grandson, cleared his throat cautiously. "Do you need something? The gym's closed."
"Yes," the man said, his voice sharp. "I need the last sane member of my family, and I need him now."
Georgei opened his mouth to respond, but Rigel cut him off, eyes locked on the man. "And who… should you be?"
The man's gaze hardened, voice cold but steady. "You know, Rigel, trying to read someone's mind without permission is rude, and I am your father's grandfather, Arcturus Black."
"Telling me I'm rude," Rigel shot back, eyes flashing, "when it was you who barged in without introduction and pretended things!"
Arcturus Black's dark eyes narrowed as Rigel's low, rattling chuckle, khhhk-hekkk… echoed through the gym, twisting unnervingly in the still air. The thin smile at the corners of Arcturus's lips faltered for a fraction of a second.
Ethelin shifted slightly, silent but tense, the air around her pulsing with anticipation as she watched the intruder, ready to strike if needed.
"Bold words for one so young" he said, voice measured but with an edge of caution now. "Do you even know the consequences of speaking to your elders like that?"
The hiss rattled softly through the room, carrying a threat in its sibilant tone. Arcturus's expression hardened, a flicker of unease crossing his otherwise composed features. The boy made the old wizard shift slightly, realizing this child was far from ordinary and far from intimidated.
Georgei stepped forward calmly, hands raised slightly in a gesture of ease. "Now, now," he said, voice steady and reassuring, "let's all take a breath. We're in my gym, and I won't have it turned into a battlefield."
Mrs. Hiss coiled tighter around Rigel, her protective gaze flicking between the boy and Arcturus, while Tenebris gave a low, warning growl.
Arcturus blinked, then allowed a slow, controlled exhale. "Very well," he said, masking the tension, though his eyes never left Rigel. "Let's speak properly, then."
Rigel's chuckle softened slightly, but the edge of madness lingered, a clear reminder that he was not to be underestimated.
Georgei led both Rigel and Arcturus upstairs to the living room, his hands firm on their shoulders, guiding them past the stairs with practiced authority.
Once inside, Georgei set Rigel on a chair and gestured to Arcturus to remain standing. His eyes swept the room, assessing the tension crackling between the two. Then, with a deep, calm voice that carried unmistakable authority, he said:
"Now, we can talk properly" he began, voice steady, leaving no room for interruption. "Why do you want my grandson, in all but blood?"
The words hung in the air, charged. Even Arcturus's dark, controlled demeanor flickered for a moment, acknowledging Georgei's command.
Rigel leaned back slightly, green-steel eyes narrowed, but the hiss that threatened to escape was tempered by Georgei's presence.
Mrs. Hiss coiled protectively, Tenebris gave a soft growl, and Georgei's gaze bore into Arcturus, unflinching. The message was clear: in this house, the boy was not alone, and anyone wanting him would have to answer more than questions they would face the family.
Georgei's brow furrowed slightly as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His voice lost none of its composure but gained a quiet weight.
"So," he said evenly, "you claim to be the boy's grandfather. Fine. But where were you the last three years? Where was this concern before now?"
Arcturus inhaled slowly, his gloved fingers tightening on the head of his cane. His dark eyes flicked briefly to Rigel, then back to Georgei.
"I didn't know he existed," Arcturus replied, his voice cool but with an undercurrent of something older shame, perhaps, buried under pride. "My nephew married in secret. He told no one of a son. If I hadn't stumbled upon… certain records, I might have died never knowing. Fate, or chance, put me on his trail."
He paused, letting the words settle before adding, with a thin breath, "And now that I know, I won't look away."
Rigel's green and steel eyes narrowed at the man, but he said nothing. Tenebris hissed low from the floor where he had slithered to guard him, while Mrs. Hiss's coils shifted closer around his ankle.
Georgei tilted his head, a flicker of curiosity and the faintest hint of mischief showing in his eyes. He let the silence hang a beat before asking,
"And what kind of records were those, then? Normal ones… or records more like Rigel here magical?"
Arcturus froze, his eyes narrowing into slits. For a heartbeat, the mask of aristocratic calm slipped."You" his voice was low, sharp with disbelief, "a Muggle… dare to speak of magic as though it were common gossip?"
Georgei didn't flinch. He simply leaned back in his chair, pipe smoke curling lazily upward. "Well, ladwhen you've lived long enough, you pick up things. Especially raising a boy like Rigel."
The old wizard's knuckles tightened on his cane, his gaze darting briefly back to Rigel, then to the serpent coiled near him. His tone dropped, edged with suspicion."This… is highly irregular."
Georgei answered evenly, his voice carrying the calm of a man who'd seen enough in life not to be rattled.
"Not if you live with a lad who laughs like a madman, talks to snakes, gets books written in hiss out of nowhere, a wardrobe of suits to match… and can tell you what you're going to say before you even open your mouth."
Arcturus's gaze snapped toward Rigel, sharp as a blade, sweeping over him like a judge weighing a sentence. His dark eyes lingered, probing, questioning.
Rigel met the stare without flinching. "He was safe," he said flatly, dismissively, tilting his head just slightly as if bored by the accusation. "And he wouldn't have talked about it." Then he let out that eerie, unsettling chuckle of his, khhhk… khkkk…, like he found the whole situation quietly amusing.
Arcturus gave a long, weary sigh, adjusting the grip on his cane. "At least it makes things easier. I stumbled upon his name some time ago on the family tapestry, and from there I began tracking him down. I intend to take him back with me, so that he can be raised properly..... as a Black."
Georgei leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, eyes steady and unyielding. "And why should I permit you to take him?" he asked calmly, the steel beneath his civility clear as a drawn blade. Then he turned to the boy beside him, voice softening. "And more importantly Rigel, what do you think? Do you want to go with him?"
Rigel's lips curved into a feral smirk. "I don't know… it may have some advantages," he said, pausing briefly before adding with a tilt of his head, "Should I?"
Arcturus's dark eyes glimmered with a mixture of calculation and pride. "I'm going to make you my heir," he said evenly, voice low and commanding, "teach you everything about politics, and what it truly means to be a Black. So yes… very much so."
Georgei's gaze flicked between the two, weighing the silent power struggle, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.
Mrs. Hiss hissed softly, her tone firm yet tender.
Hearing her words, Rigel's green-steel eyes flicked with thought.
He turned his head toward Arcturus, his feral smirk returning. "Alright… but I'm staying with you only during the week. On weekends… I'm here, with the old man."
Arcturus's dark eyes narrowed slightly, a shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. "Very well," he said slowly, "but don't think you'll bend the rules too easily, boy."
Georgei exhaled quietly, tension easing just a fraction as he realized the boy was holding firm to his own terms.
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The morning was quiet, the sun still low over the rooftops, casting long, golden streaks through the gym windows. Rigel adjusted the straps of the bag on his back, Mrs. Hiss coiled lightly around his shoulders, her tongue flicking in soft approval.
Georgei stood by the doorway, arms crossed, a faint frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So… this is it, then," he said, voice calm but carrying the weight of unspoken words.
Rigel didn't look away. His green-steel eyes met Georgei's, sharp and unflinching, but there was something softer there too. "Yeah," he replied, his voice quiet but steady. "Weekdays with him, weekends here… that's the deal."
Georgei nodded slowly, though his heart clenched. "Just… remember something, lad," he said, stepping closer. "No matter where you go, or who you're with, this " he gestured to the gym, to the life they'd shared "it's yours. Never forget that."
Rigel's feral smirk softened into something almost like a small grin. He stepped forward, briefly brushing his shoulder against Georgei's in a rare, fleeting gesture of affection. "I won't," he said. "Thanks… for everything. For keeping me safe, for teaching me, even for letting me laugh like a madman around you."
Georgei let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Don't make me regret it, kid. And… try not to scare anyone else the way you scare me."
Rigel's chuckle followed eerie, unsettling, but lighter than usual.
The old man stepped back, giving him space. "Go on then. Make your mark, Serpico," Georgei said quietly. His eyes softened, but there was a firmness in his tone that told Rigel the lessons and boundaries would never be forgotten.
Rigel turned toward the door, his bag over one shoulder. Before stepping out, he paused, glancing back one last time. "I'll be back," he said, feral smirk teasing his lips. "Weekends."
Georgei watched him go, the faint curl of a smile on his face despite the ache in his chest. "Aye… you better be," he muttered, turning back to the gym, the place somehow quieter, emptier, yet holding the echoes of laughter, lessons, and the boy who had become more than just a kid saved in front of his gym.
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