The sterile white walls of Saint Mungo's Hospital swam into focus slowly, blurred like a pale mist. A steady hum of magical devices filled the quiet room.
Rigel Alaric Black blinked against the harsh light, his head pounding as if thunder rolled inside his skull.
He tried to move but found his body heavy, limbs tangled in crisp white linens. A cold metal brace hugged his left arm, and the faint scent of healing potions lingered in the air.
A shadow shifted near the doorway. A tall figure in flowing black robes stepped forward, the sharp lines of the Black family crest embroidered on the cloak catching the light.
"Welcome back, Rigel," the voice was calm but held weight. "You've been unconscious for days."
Rigel's throat tightened. Questions clamored to escape, but before he could speak, the man continued. "Your parents… they're gone. There was an accident."
A hollow ache settled deep in Rigel's chest. The man's eyes softened briefly. "I'm Arcturus Black. You're family now."
The words echoed, unfamiliar yet strangely right. Somewhere, buried beneath the pain, a spark flickered—a pulse of ancient magic awakening within him.
Suddenly, images surged forward—
---
Flashback
The night was thick with rain, droplets blurring the world outside the car windows. Rigel's small hand gripped his mother's tightly, his other hand resting against the worn dashboard. The soft hum of the engine was the only sound until a sharp screech cut through the storm.
A pair of glowing red eyes appeared out of nowhere, and the car swerved violently. Time seemed to slow. Rigel's mother shouted, his father's voice rose in alarm.
Metal twisted, glass shattered. A sharp impact threw Rigel forward, pain exploding across his body.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
---
Back in the hospital room, Rigel's eyelids fluttered again, but this time something was different. His reflection in the polished surface of a nearby tray flickered — his hair briefly shifted from its usual dark shade to silvery blue and then back again, his eyes flashing from deep brown to a bright, piercing green.
A strange warmth spread through his limbs, as if his body was reshaping itself from the inside out. The ancient magic of the Blacks coursed through him, not just awakening but transforming him.
Arcturus's eyes widened slightly as he noticed. "You're a Metamorphmagus," he said quietly, a rare mix of surprise and approval in his tone. "A rare gift, and a powerful one."
Rigel touched his face, feeling the subtle but undeniable changes. His destiny was no longer just to inherit a name—it was to become something far more extraordinary.
Two days went by in the blink of an eye as Rigel contemplated the feelings surging through him.
The sadness of his family's demise almost completely overshadowed his awe at the completely new world before his eyes.
Now as he stood in front of the huge gate he couldnot help but wonder how his life has changed so quickly.
The iron gates groaned open with a sound like thunder restrained, revealing a narrow, winding path carved between towering hedges of withered yew.
Fog hung low around the Black family estate—ancient, proud, and cloaked in a chill that seemed to settle straight into one's bones.
Rigel stepped through the gates slowly, the hem of his borrowed cloak brushing over black stone. At the end of the path rose a massive manor of obsidian brick and enchanted slate, its silhouette looming against a gray sky like a slumbering beast. 'The Black Manor' was its public name. But this place—this dark, imposing fortress—was more than just a house.
It was a monument to centuries of ambition, power, and blood.
Two heavy oak doors swung open on their own as he approached. Carved above them in runes older than English was the family creed:
Toujours Pur.
Arcturus stood just inside, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable. "Welcome home, Rigel," he said, voice echoing across the grand entrance hall of House Black. "From now on, this is where your legacy begins."
Rigel's boots echoed on marble as he stepped across the threshold. The wards shimmered faintly behind him as they sealed once more—centuries of protective enchantments recognizing his magic and binding him to the house.
The doors shut with a final boom, leaving behind the outside world.
Rigel was no longer a lost child.
He was a Black now—in name, in magic, and in destiny.
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Author's notes.
Hello guys sorry for the delay on my other book.The exams has just past by and I am going to continue from where I left.I have also decide to start this new harry potter fanfiction.
So please give me powerstones.