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"Deal," Archie gave a reassuring thumbs up, "See you tomorrow, Harry. And don't worry—we'll get through this firestorm."
"And find stars on the other side, right, Archie?" It was something Aunt Diana used to say.
"And find worlds on the other side, Harry."
—The Pureblood Pretense, chapter 16
She slipped into the Malfoys’ ballroom and stood in the shadows, unnoticed by the crowd around her.
The effects of the potion she’d drank before coming to the ball began to drain away, a cool, rain-like sensation washing over her as she faded into existence like a ghost.
It had taken months to perfect the potion—one that essentially erased her from any sensory perception. The potion lasted two minutes at the most, but for that precious piece of time, she was invisible and inaudible, with no scent or weight—even her magical energy was hidden, so she hadn’t tripped the wards outside and within the Manor when she’d apparated to the yard.
Still, nobody noticed her. After all, she was just another masked figure amidst a decadent masquerade.
Her dress was gold and copper with a layer of black lace over the bodice. The collar was lined with fluffy brown fur that continued down her back in a long cape. Yellow flowers from Margo had been woven into her long tawny braid.
She lifted a hand to gently touch her mask, drawing a line across the bronze to the long, curling spikes that surrounded her face like a sharp halo—like a star or a lion’s mane.
Her ensemble was hardly the most elaborate in the room, and she saw only vague curiosity in the eyes of those who finally began to notice her in the room.
She glanced to the other corner of the room, where Leo—no, George—had appeared, and they shared a long look.
Leo nodded, his poison-green eyes shimmering behind his black feathered mask. His dress robes were entirely black, flowing around him like a shadow—or rather, like wings, with more dark feathers gleaming at his shoulders.
She had been afraid to go alone. Afraid that she would be recognized, that she couldn’t handle seeing her old friends again—afraid that she would be too afraid to do what she’d come for. But seeing him across the room, as steadfast and loyal as he had always been for her, she knew she would make it through.
Aldon Rosier—recognizable only by his golden eyes behind a midnight blue mask dotted with pearls—walked up to her. His hand was warm beneath hers as she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. There was a shimmer of intrigue in his eyes as they danced, but he didn’t speak, didn’t ask who she was. It was the beauty of a masquerade—a masquerade at least partially in support of her.
The Veritaserum Bill hadn’t lasted a month before the outrage grew too strong and it was repealed. Some people were against it because they were for the Rigel Black Child—for Harriet Potter—though most purebloods were simply alarmed by the sudden lack of secrecy they were able to maintain, their pride stripped away. Either way, nobody actually agreed with the bill, and it would be a long time before any piece of legislature Riddle supported was regarded with anything other than distrust. And what better way to celebrate their reclaimed ability to keep secrets than to throw a masquerade?
Aldon’s hand tightened slightly around her waist, and she decided to slip away from their dance, wandering through the crowd. She thought of his hands in her hair, scratching gently at her scalp as he braided. She thought of standing on a balcony with him, searching for drunken party guests. She wondered how he reconciled those two moments as belonging to a singular person, when she could hardly reconcile anything about herself.
Where did Rigel end and Harriet or Alanna begin?
She saw Caelum Lestrange standing in one corner, pouting petulantly at the crowd as he swirled a crystal goblet of blood-red wine. She wondered what he thought of her now. A petty hatred for Rigel Black. Something deeper, simultaneously darker and warmer, that she shared with him as Harry.
And she was only one person.
She found Pansy on the edge of the dance floor, and it only took a smile and a gesture to coax the blonde lady into a slow waltz.
Pansy didn’t protest this time when her partner began to lead—blood and status didn’t matter when everyone’s identities were vaguely uncertain. The pink tulle of Pansy’s large skirt swished around her as they spun, almost tangling between them.
She looked at the delicate white lace around Pansy’s eyes, so gentle and sweet like Pansy herself. The mask seemed to enhance Pansy’s features rather than obscure them, her eyes almost glowing.
Pansy had never really known Harry with more than a slight curiosity. Her main interest in her was as the Potter Heiress and—more importantly—as Rigel’s cousin.
She met Leo’s eyes across the room—George, she tried to remind herself, but she could never quite make herself think of him as anything other than Leo. He nodded, tilting his head towards something. Her gaze drew across the room, passing over the Weasley Twins—what did they think of their beloved Puppy now?—and landing on a figure holding a toddler.
Her mother’s hair was like a flame over the coal-black of her dress. Instead of a traditional mask, Lily wore a veil, her green eyes still managing to pierce through the black netting. Beside her, James was also dressed in solemn black. It was like this ball was a funeral to her, a memorial to the daughter they’d lost.
But how long ago had they truly lost each other?
She walked off the dance floor, still watching them.
Her parents hardly met her as Rigel, but did they know Harry any better? Her potions work was so often disregarded, and her life in the Alleys was completely unknown until the Ruse was blown to pieces. The letters they'd received from their daughter were actually written by Archie.
They didn’t know Harry at all.
Did she even know who she was?
Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she turned to find Draco Malfoy staring at her with a slightly-icy gaze.
His mask was emerald snakeskin with silver around the pointed edges by his temples—he looked like a perfect Slytherin prince. His dark grey dress robes swished as she let him lead her into a dance.
Draco had kissed her, once. He’d yelled at her and laughed with her and been her friend.
She thought of his harsh, betrayed expression when she—Harry—knew about his Empathy. It was nothing compared to the way his hope and disbelief faded into devastation that broke across his face like a bolt of lightning when the Ruse fell apart and she told him nothing was true.
Saying that had been another lie. But truth didn’t have much meaning when your entire life was built around lies and misdirection.
She pulled away from him, pretending not to notice how his face scrunched slightly in confusion and veiled hurt. Even as a stranger to him, she still couldn’t stop hurting him.
She looked around the room at all the people she once knew—but they never knew her, and they never would. The Veritaserum Bill was no longer a danger, but the search for the Rigel Black Child was still ongoing. She could never go back.
Leo stood near the doorway, a bright patch moonlight washing over him through one of the tall windows. The silvery shine shimmered over his feathered mask and cape until they glowed slightly like wet ink. He flashed a crooked, encouraging smile, and she took a deep breath, nodding to him.
She slowly turned around until she found Archie in the crowd. He stood in a corner, Sirius and Regulus talking together beside him. The two adults looked frustrated and resigned, like they’d been arguing the entire time, while Archie simply looked… lost.
She walked closer, watching him carefully as she wove between the other guests. A few people tried to draw her into a conversation or a dance, but she evaded them with a smile and a few quick steps away, not giving them even a word. Her entire focus was on the boy across the room.
He wore gray dress robes as pale as smoke, with a silver mask that covered his entire face down to the curve of his lips. When Archie turned his head slightly, she realized the mask wasn’t actually silver, but rather a mosaic of mirrored glass, shimmering with every color in the ballroom and reflecting specks of light in all directions.
To anyone else in the room, Archie’s appearance and behavior looked like that of a perfect pureblood heir—his posture tall, his smile polite and detached. But there was a shadow in his eyes that didn’t normally exist—only people who really knew him would recognize it. Under the edge of the mask, his smile was a little too tense, and his hands clenched at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with himself.
He’d never been to a pureblood event without her by his side.
“Dance with me,” she said in a soft, rasping whisper as she arrived by his side once more.
Archie turned to look at her with a small gasp of surprise, like he hadn’t expected anyone to notice his existence, much less acknowledge it directly.
But when she held out a gloved hand, he slowly took it, letting her draw him out to the dance floor.
Sirius watched them with a faint smile, like he was glad to see Archie do more than stand alone in a corner, but was nervous that Archie might vanish if he didn’t watch him constantly.
Had she ruined his relationship with his son? Sirius had loved the wrong child as his own—Rigel and Archie were so fundamentally different, despite the matching appearances they’d kept up over the years. Sirius didn’t know his son, and unlike James and Lily, he actually had the real Archie with him now to remind him just how little he knew.
She sighed as she laced her fingers with Archie’s and settled her other hand on his shoulder. The music felt faraway, like she wasn’t truly there in that ballroom—was she? Rigel was not there. Harry was not there.
“Arcturus Black,” she said with a gentle smile, looking up through her lashes at him. She laughed softly and shook her head, still somewhat in awe that she was standing in front of him once again. “I’ve wanted to dance with you since I arrived.”
Archie frowned, and he smoothly placed a little more distance between them, still dancing. “Who are you?”
She grinned. He was the first to ask her the question that had echoed in her head for the past two months.
Who are you?
Who
Are
You?
Her heartbeat was painfully heavy, thudding against her ribs like fireworks. She saw herself reflected in tiny, jagged fragments across Archie’s mask. She still wasn’t quite used to her new face, but distorted as it was over the curves and contours of his face, she almost felt like she could see past it, like Rigel and Harry were there as well.
Archie had been the only constant in her life during the Ruse. He’d been there for everything, had always made sure she was all right. She had Leo now, but she didn’t know how to live without Archie.
She whispered, “Alanna. My name is Alanna Linus.”
Archie frowned, squinting at her, before his eyes widened with recognition. “You… You’re the new Rogue; you forced Leo to leave the Alleys!”
“Yes, that’s me.” She rolled her eyes, wondering how her cousin could be so blind at times. She glanced at where Leo was sipping a glass of punch and watching her. “And if I hadn’t made him go, who would have been around for your precious Harry?”
His breath caught, his eyes shining glassily. He looked down.
“Besides,” she quickly continued, not wanting him to hurt for longer than necessary. For the first time that night, she allowed sincerity to bleed through into her words, though she kept her expression carefully distant. She sighed and started again. “Besides, I think you’ll find that Leo Hurst… he got through that firestorm.”
Archie looked up at her so quickly his mask jostled, and he stared at her through the now-crooked eye holes with wide, startled eyes.
She blinked a few times, fighting away the tears that were beginning to sting at her eyes, and slowly whispered, “And he found worlds on the other side.”
Archie’s shoulders shook in a silent sob, and she squeezed his hand gently before stepping back and pulling away.
She curtsied deeply, looking at Archie one more time and flashing him a bright smile. Before he could regain his composure and react, she turned away and let the crowd swallow her as she made her way to Leo.
“Let’s go home,” she said.
Leo nodded, his dark curls flopping over his forehead. His green eyes were soft and enchanting under the shadowed feathers of his mask. “Did you do it?” he asked.
She nodded, looking over her shoulder at where Archie still stood frozen on the edge of the dance floor. She turned to Leo, taking his hand and smiling as she said, “He knows.”