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—THE NEXT DAY, THE BLACK FAMILY (+TOM) WERE FINALLY BACK AT BLACK MANOR. Dumbledore has now known that Tom was Lord Voldemort and so did the whole Wizarding World, since the portraits did an interview with the daily prophet. They all also found out the Black family's relationship with Voldemort— not that the Blacks even cared.
"Cierra, sweetheart, my hair is not a game for you to play with." said Rigel monotonously, looking at his sister, who was doing exactly that.
Cierra frowned with a little pout. "Pwetty!"
"I think he just called her 'sweetheart'—" whispered Sirius to Remus in awe.
"—let them be, Padfoot." scolded Remus, but had a small smile on his face. "Think he's finally going to start being better?"
"Better?" asked Tom, looking curious.
Remus nodded. "I have a feeling he has a muggle mental illness that I once read about."
"Why not take him to a muggle psychiatrist soon, then?" Sirius questioned.
"Sirius.." Remus slowly said in shock, "That's your first great idea in years."
"I'm flattered, Moony— wait!"
••
"Ri?" Remus softly asked, sitting next to his son in the library.
Rigel hummed questioningly, not looking up from his homework that he hadn't even tried getting started on, even though it had been in front of him for about an hour.
"I was thinking that we should take you to a muggle psychiatrist—"
His son looked up from his homework, frowning. "A psychiatrist?!" He asked, looking appalled. He, of course, knew what Remus was talking about, having read books about it.
"Ri, it's just to finally understand what's going on with you—"
"Oh, so something's wrong with me?" Rigel cut him off. "Remus, I'm fine. Honestly, I—"
"Rigel." Remus sternly said, making him stop. "I didn't mean it that way. I meant it as a way to get you the help you need— and do not say that you don't need help." He sighed and continued, "Ri, sometimes you need help. Stop pushing those, whom try to do so, away."
"... What's wrong with me?" asked Rigel, now having tears brimming in his eyes. "I'm not okay, am I?"
"We'll figure that our, Ri. Together. However, having a mental illness does not make you different from anyone else."
Rigel stayed quiet, accepting defeat.
"You'll be alright. We'll make sure of it."
Rigel nodded. "When will we go?"
"This Summer, alright?"
"Alright."
••
'Happy Yule.'
Tom frowned in confusion at the box and the letter on it, which was on his bed.
His frown immediately went away as he realized only one person had this neat handwriting: Rigel.
Ignoring his heart that started to beat faster, he opened the present, eyes widening.
It was filled with (illegal) books that he had tried so hard to find since he could remember, but always failed.
How did Rigel even know Tom wanted this?
More importantly, why did Rigel even give him this?
••
That night, Cierra, who was extremely clingy in Rigel's opinion, was in his room with him.
"Cierra, why do you even want to be with me?" Rigel asked in confusion when his sister sat on his lap, playing with a few toy blocks.
"You weave." Cierra replied. "I stay."
Rigel looked even more confused, but didn't ask any further questions.
"Pway?" asked the toddler, waving a toy block in Rigel's face.
Not having the heart to say 'no' for some reason, Rigel nodded. "Sure."
About 15 minutes later, Cierra was fast asleep in her brother's arms, who was quietly reading a book.
The door opened, catching his attention.
Tom's eyebrows rose at the adorable sight. "Rigel finally has a soft spot?" He teased.
Rigel glared at him. "What do you want?"
"Wanted to thank you for the books."
"What books?" Rigel tried acting oblivious.
"Right." Tom played along. "Goodnight, Rigel." He said and walked out of the room.
Tom knew that, for some reason, Rigel hated being thanked for doing something nice— acting like he never even did it was usual for Rigel to do.
So, he just went along with it.
However, he just hoped that Rigel would get the help he needed soon.
