Rigel took a back seat with Jasmine, having no clue how to do the mental maths Hermione was solving. He could try and guess, but that was a stupid plan with Hermione in the room. Rigel had hated maths in his past life and he hated them now. Accounting was the most interested he had ever been in maths, and that was due to Arcturus's careful explanations and the responsibility he felt for managing it. There was no way he was taking arithmancy in the third year. None.
"I've got it. The smallest bottle will get us through the fire…but there's a problem. There's only enough for one of us to go through."
"Jasmine drink it," Rigel prompted, knowing that the prophecy, and thus Dumbledore would protect her if anything happened.
"But," she began.
"I agree, if it is you-know-who in there, you have the best chance Jaz." Jasmine had seen him fight, and use advanced transfigurations at home, so she doubted Hermione greatly. He never went and performed ridiculous feats inside of class, though accomplished each 'taught' spell on the first try and to a standard FAR beyond expected. Jasmine knew Hermione was wrong about that, but somehow, she felt right stopping Voldemort, and Rigel had told her to take it.
"Hurry up Jaz." She gave them a hug before drinking the vial down, leaping through the purple flames. Rigel crouched near the flames, looking for the rune that kept the fire flowing through the entryway. Without mage sight, he would never have spotted it up in the corner of the roof, away from the flame itself, and connected through a brass pipe. With holes in it that the flames spewed out of. Transfiguring the burning hot pipe into a bent one, bereft of runes, allowed Rigel and Hermione to slip past, yet again proving that even genius wizards are utterly pathetic when it comes to logic and outside-the-box thinking. 'Transfiguration is one of the most practical magics we learn,' Rigel mentally quoted McGonagall's first private lesson. 'Where imagination and precision work side-by-side to create, change and alter reality around us.' Unfortunately, one couldn't transfigure non-physical entities, such as the soul, or at least, not based on what he'd been taught. Hermione and Rigel stalked quietly down a short pathway that opened into a large chamber, with two people and a mirror.
"You owe me a favour Hermione," Rigel whispered with a grin towards the aghast know-it-all.
"But… Snape was threatening Quirrell. This makes no sense."
"No, it does, you just don't like Snape. Rightfully so, he's a prat, but he's Dumbledore's prat through and through. Like a smaller, slimier Hagrid."
It had only taken a few moments for Rigel to discover and detour around the flame trap of Snape's so Quirrell was still wearing his turban. "Snape was trying to save me?" Jasmine's voice echoed out.
"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny really, he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore there watching. Everyone thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he really did make himself unpopular … and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight." Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Jasmine, binding her arms and legs together. "You're too nosy to live, Potter. You and your friends, scurrying around and killing my troll."
"You let the troll in?"
"Certainly, I have a special gift with trolls. Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off… and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, but that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly. Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror." Hermione took this opportunity to sneak forward closer to the chamber before Rigel could pull her back. 'Truly the most arrogant and stubborn bi-witch of her age.'
Quirrell, who'd been staring into the mirror, whipped his head with a speed that Rigel believed would give Voldemort whiplash if he wasn't careful. "Miss Granger, how kind of you to come greet me," he said, again binding her in rope and dropping her to the floor beside Jasmine. "And where is the hidden assailant? I know Mr Black is here with you somewhere, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Mr Black do come out, or I'll cast the same pain as I did on you unto your little friends." Unable to remain hidden, Rigel stepped out into the light, wand drawn and pointed at the DADA professor. "Here he is! Oh, that look in your eyes is delicious."
"And here is the worst teacher in Hogwarts," his eyes scanned the room, not yet seeing Dumbledore skulking from the shadows. "Grab the stone then."
"Oh, I intend to. Stay there or I'll kill them both." He didn't even bind Rigel, knowing full well the fear of failure would prevent him from attacking, which was almost more humiliating than using a rope, not that a rope would have worked. 'Maybe he knew that,' Rigel considered, watching as the two-faced bastard peered into the mirror. He stood, murmuring and muttering to himself, looking for compartments, runes and other clues, before he gave up, asking Voldemort. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"
The same sickening, hoarse, hissing voice seeped from his turban as it had under the hood in the forest. "Potter is the key. Use the girl." Hermione let out a low scream, while Jasmine shivered at his words. 'She probably thinks they mean as a sacrifice.' Jasmine was unbound and dragged in front of the mirror, held in place by a glaring Quirrell.
"Tell me what you see." Jasmine made up a description of her shaking hands with Dumbledore. Of winning the house cup, causing the frustrated Quirrell to hurl her aside, with a very faint glow in her pocket, dimmer even than the mirror, still in her pocket.
"She lies," Voldemort hissed. "Let me speak to her."
"But master," Quirrell almost pleaded, very afraid of the spectre living in his head. "You're not strong enough."
"I am strong enough, for thisss," the voice said, and Quirrell began to untie his turban, unwinding the purple cloth dozens of times before pulling the remains from his head, revealing the ghastly face of Voldemort's soul. Well, part of it.
"Ahh, two-faced physically as well, nice."
"I'm glad you're appreciative of the reveal Mr Black, though you don't seem at all surprised."
"I'm not." Rigel took another look around the room, still not seeing Dumbledore's concealment.
"No help will reach you Mr Black."
"Not what I'm worried about," he muttered.
"When did you find out?" Voldemort asked, Hermione remained trapped through Jasmine had moved to untie her bindings.
"All confidence, I was only 100% sure after Halloween, but I had a feeling before that." The girls gasped from the side.
"Rigel, that was MONTHS ago!" Hermione exclaimed.
"And I had no proof, not that you would have listened regardless, or anyone else without any." The two remained silent, knowing the number of times he corrected them, and pushed them towards Quirrell, only to be ignored.
"Most impressive, you are definitely perceptive. Your uncle worked for me, you know, just as your aunt did."
"My aunt was a raving lunatic, however charming she may be, and Regulus was desperate to appease his mother. Black family madness never skips a generation Voldemort."
"Truly splendid. Now tell me, how did you know?" Rigel smirked remaining silent, only to feel a probe slam into his shield with an unparalleled speed. "Mental shields at such a young age, how impressive. If I wasn't in such a state your shields would have crumpled instantly. Good thing I have until tomorrow." He slammed probe after probe into the shield, shaking his mind like his head was stuck inside a washing machine. "Tell me or I'll rip their minds in half, we both know they don't have the same shields as you do. I'll leave them like Neville's parents, vegetables on the floor."
Glancing around the room again, he groaned, "Mage sight, you fucking snake bastard."
"Truly? Oh, Marvelous. I never attained mage sight, you know? There are no known rituals to attain or even steal mage sight, which makes you incredibly valuable, even without your wonderful disposition and talent. You would do well under me. We could work together, living forever. I could give you anything you want, whatever your wildest dreams, we could take them."
"He's evil Rigel, don't listen," Jasmine called out."
"Little girl, there is no good or evil, only power-"
"And those too weak to seek it," Rigel finished. Voldemort's face was almost as manic as Dobby's. The evil smile and malicious sneer the only difference between the abused house elf and the smug fucker in front of me. "Working with a dark lord would certainly help with my learning…There's an issue though, I've looked into the mirror before… and you really don't want to know what I saw in the mirror Voldemort." No more needed to be said as the implication had been made clear.
The smile became a scornful scowl, as he cried out, "Foolish boy, if I have no reason to keep you alive-"
"I've got the stone!" Jasmine called out, though Rigel noticed Hermione's ropes were loose and her wand was in her hands behind her back. "Spare them, and I'll give you the stone." The girls had planned an ambush of sorts using Rigel to distract Voldemort, but as Quirrell reached out and snatched the stone from Jasmine's hand, the rope-burned and torn skin grazed against his skin, the pain forcing the stone from his grip.
"Pick it up," his master hissed, but Jasmine fought for the stone, diving to pry his hands from the rock, burning his skin, as if it were aflame.
"Immobulus," Rigel cast at the professor, though the spell had only glanced off his leg as he moved, stopping movement in one leg as Hermione struck him with the same leg-binding jinx that Malfoy had cast on some Puffs a few months ago. Hermione's spell choice was perfect, as by binding one leg, to the fixed leg, he couldn't move either, falling to the floor beneath them. "Jasmine grab his face!" Rigel called out, binding the professor's hands with rope as he had the girls. Quirrell screamed helplessly as he began to perish, his body being destroyed by the last remnants of whichever ritual Lily Potter placed on her daughter. Beginning with his hands, then his chest and head, the professor crumpled to dust, sinking beneath Jasmine's slightly bleeding hands. Watching as the professor collapsed to dust, Rigel cast a silent Carpe Retractum, pulling the philosopher's stone to him as the girls were distracted. Pocketing the rock into his robes, where the bulk wouldn't be noticed. As the two girls rejoiced, a screaming spirit seeped from the body, flying from the body and crashing through the three of them, knocking the three of them to the floor, and smacking their heads on the stone steps.
Rigel, was conscious, however, somewhat expecting the spirit attack or whatever it was and catching himself as he fell. He lay there for over 10 minutes, according to the tempus spell, before Dumbledore sauntered in, lifting them all on conjured stretchers and carrying them to the infirmary.
As the three were placed in the infirmary Albus turned to Rigel. "Rigel, if you wouldn't mind filling me in on exactly what happened in there, since you ARE awake."
With no way of hiding from the interrogation, Rigel pushed to control the narrative,"Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort, Jasmine grabbed him and he disintegrated. His soul flew off, Done."
"Are you sure?"
"Very. He introduced himself and everything. Not that his voice was hard to forget." Dumbledore asked question after question, even as Pomfrey conducted tests on the boy, but regardless, Rigel didn't mention the mage sight or his comment about what he saw in the mirror of Erised. He spoke only of what happened, and mentioned that he had tried to recruit him, and failed, and was now a ghost thing that knocked the girls out.
"And why were you not placed unconscious as well, Mr Black?"
"Are you asking for my EXPERT opinion? No clue." Albus was tempted to peek into the boy's mind, but there was a confidence that unsettled him. It may be arrogance stemming from having faced Voldemort's wisp, but there was the possibility that his attempt might not succeed. He could break through the defences, but that could cripple the child mentally, and there was no good to come of that, not that he would even entertain the thought. 'And that's not to mention the legal issues if I'm caught peering into an heir's mind.'
Rigel was cleared to leave, promising not to say anything until the other two awoke from their sleep. Rigel had been harassed by students of all years, though mostly from his own house, who seemed to believe that hounding him for answers would eventually win him over. Unfortunately for the third year, it had won the boy a leg-binding jinx while he was at the top of the Gryffindor Tower staircase, followed by a feigned punch, which sent the boy tumbling down the stone staircase. 3 days, he'd put up with the annoying twits, and the only ones who didn't push him were Neville and the two girls, who were both desperate for information, but unwilling to lose a friend over it. He'd explained Dumbledore didn't want anything being said before the girls woke up and they acquiesced, after all, he couldn't exactly ignore the headmaster.
It was four days later, and 2 before the end of term before he received word from McGonagall that Jasmine and Hermione had woken. Visiting the two during his morning break, he almost laughed at how annoyed Hermione was about missing classes. 'She just faced one of the most powerful and vile wizards in the last 500 years, and she's worried about missing classes…after exams. She's a different breed.'
"Rigel!" Jaz called as the boy entered the infirmary under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey. "Dumbledore said you were okay but that you recovered a few days ago."
"When HIS spirit came out and bashed into all of us, it didn't knock me out. It pushed me down, but that's about it."
"And the stone? We heard it went missing. Did Voldemort manage to take it after all?"
"I don't know…I remember he dropped it, and then you took down Quirrell and I don't remember seeing the stone again." He didn't want to lie to her, but he also wanted to study the stone a little, even if it was fake. Some of the runes he'd seen carved into it were impressive, and it wasn't like he couldn't just show her the fake stone in the holidays anyway. He looked across to the bushy-haired girl, "And how are you, Hermy?"
"Frustrated. We've missed four days of lessons. There's only one left. Madam Pomfrey," she near growled, "wouldn't let us out until tomorrow for the end-of-year feast."
"Well, Dumbledore told me to keep the story under wraps, so expect to get flooded with questions during the feast and trip back. I need to ask…what did you tell Dumbledore about what happened down there?"
"Well, we told him about the defences, and that it was Quirrell fused with You-know-who," Hermione answered, but it was her Rigel was most concerned about. The girl had no ability to deceive authority figures and would blab even Jasmine's greatest secrets if Dumbledore asked.
"We said that Voldemort tried to make you join him, that he liked something about you."
"Did EITHER of you say what he specifically liked? It's important Jasmine."
"No, I didn't," she shook her head vehemently. Rigel turned to the teacher's pet.
"And you?" I-I said he liked your attitude but nothing about yo-"
"Shh!" Jasmine silenced her friend as Pomfrey came over.
"It's almost time for class Mr Black, so you should leave the girls to rest now."
"Of course, Madam Pomfrey. I'm glad you're both feeling better. Lav and Parvati will probably come looking for you later today. And Hermy? Padma took notes for the classes you missed." As he hugged them both, he whispered between them, "Hermione, don't tell ANYONE." As he pulled back, she nodded in understanding, though he was certain Jasmine was about to get hounded for an explanation of what mage sight was and why it was so dangerous to mention he had it. Even Voldemort, after being attacked, and having his followers mocked and disrespected by an eleven-year-old boy, was willing to accept him just for the gift alone, even ignoring his talent and blood status.
The girls returned to classes the next day, though almost no learning was actually performed in these final lessons, as both students and professors thought about the end-of-year feast and the holidays to come. The students had interrogated the girls but again Dumbledore had pushed to not mention Voldemort, which to some degree, made sense. Therefore, the three students described Quirrell as a thief, who had been faking a stutter all year in his attempt to lower suspicions and steal an ancient relic Dumbledore had kept hidden. At the end of the potions double class, Rigel had pushed Jasmine and Hermione to apologise to Snape for believing him to be the thief in the first place. It required a great deal of patience and nagging, but both girls apologised for their assumptions, and Rigel could have sworn he saw a small smirk on the bat's face.
"Aren't you going to apologise Mr Black?" he drawled, obviously greatly enjoying the satisfaction of seeing James's kid apologise to him.
"I never said it was you, so why in Morgana's name, would I apologise? I hope the end-of-year grades are at least MODERATELY accurate, wouldn't want to have to have my father joining the school board would you?" Rigel didn't want to sound like Draco Malfoy, but there wasn't much he could threaten Snape with in order to prevent receiving absolutely bullshit scores for above-standard work. Fan fiction he'd read had described Snape as having respected the protagonists for their potioneering skills, which Rigel had discovered early on was absolute hippogriff shit, as the prejudiced fucker still hated him despite perfect by-the-book potions.
"Hrmm," was the response he received in return, and Rigel had a feeling Snape would have some last-minute editing to do for the end-of-year grades.