Sirius's son

Firebolts

"What?" Asked Hermione, bewildered.

"Price on request." Repeated Rigel. "Blimey, these three broomsticks would at least cost a chunk of my trust vault. Who would spend this much on us?"

"Well," said Harry, feeling stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys."

Eliza snorted. "Obviously, they hate Rigel and us two." 

"I know who!" 

"It can't be Dumbledore nor Lupin."

"Damn."

At lunchtime they went down to the Great Hall, to find that the House tables had been moved against the walls again and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather moldy-looking tailcoat. There were only three other students, two extremely nervous-looking first years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year.

"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore as Harry, Eliza, Rigel, Ron, and Hermione approached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables... Sit down, sit down!"

The five sat down side by side at the end of the table

"Crackers!" said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Rigel covered his snicker with a snort. Snape's mouth thinned and he pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard's hat at once.

"Dig in!" he advised the table, beaming around.

As Rigel was helping himself to roast potatoes, the doors of the Great Hall opened again.

It was professor Trelawney, gliding toward them as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress in honor of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversized dragonfly.

"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" said Dumbledore, standing up.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest, most faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."

"Certainly, certainly," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair —"

And he did indeed draw a chair in midair with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.

"Tripe, Sybill?"

"No thank you." Professor Trelawney said. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and asked, "Where where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again. Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day." Dumbledore said, serving himself a piece of turkey. Eliza stifled a yawn, she had stayed up again to continue her sketch of the full moon that she started earlier in the term.

"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" Said Professor McGonagall, Rigel caught Hermione's eye and hid a smile with difficulty.

"Certainly I knew, Minerva. But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as to not make others nervous."

"That explains a great deal." Rigel and Eliza grinned at each other but Trelawney was not finished.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him..."

"Imagine that," McGonagall muttered, rolling her eyes.

"I doubt, that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?" Snape nodded and then pulled the cracker that Dumbledore offered him.

"Good, then he should be up and about in no time. Ah, a chocolate frog, does anyone collect the cards?" Dumbledore looked around and Rigel spoke up before Ron had a chance to.

"I do!"

"There you go, Rigel, Merry Christmas. I do hope it's not me, that would be a trifle embarrassing." Rigel took the card and looked at the picture before shaking his head at Dumbledore who returned to his lunch.

Rigel filled up quickly, allowing the conversation to wash over him, and then started to examine the chocolate frog card he had gotten.

Damocles Belby

Creator of the Wolfsbane Potion which allowed werewolves to keep their own mind during the full moon. An incredibly complicated potion that only an exceptional potion maker is able to produce.

Rigel tucked the card in his pocket, he looked up at Snape and absent-mindedly wondered if he would be able to make a Wolfsbane potion.

It was as if several pieces of a puzzle suddenly clicked together in Rigel's head and he paled at the realization. He looked between Snape and Dumbledore with wide eyes.

"Are you all right, Mr. Black? You've gone terribly pale." Said Flitwick from next to McGonagall, Rigel looked at him and then back at Snape, nodding sheepishly.

"Oh I'm fine... just a bit cold to be honest" Rigel stuttered. "I'll just lie down at the dormitory ."

Dumbledore nodded at Rigel's suggestion but he had only just risen out of his seat when Trelawney shrieked causing Rigel to yelp.

"Oh, my dear boy! You shall be the first to die!"

"Really, Sybill, can't you control yourself? Unless a mad ax-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter Mr. Black into the Entrance Hall." Said McGonagall, turning to Trelawney in clear fury.

Rigel flushed as everyone looked at him.

"Gone on, Mr. Black, have a lie-down, all that stress regarding your father must be playing havoc with your brain." Said Sprout kindly, Rigel nodded to her and then left the Hall.

He literally ran the whole way to Gryffindor Tower and straight up to his dormitory re-reading the chapter on werewolves. Page no. 394?