Sirius's son

Gringotts

"That'll do," said Harry. "Shall we go, then?"

All six of them glanced back at Shell Cottage, lying dark and silent under the fading stars, then turned and began to walk toward the point, just beyond the boundary wall, where the Fidelis Charm stopped working and they would be able to Disapparate. Once past the gate, Griphook spoke.

"I should climb up now, Harry Potter, I think?"

Harry bent down and the goblin clambered onto his back.

"Let's go?" said Rigel.

They nodded. All of them imagined the Leaky Cauldron, the inn that was the entrance to Diagon Alley. Seconds later Harry's feet found pavement and he opened his eyes on Charing Cross Road. Muggles bustled past wearing the hangdog expressions of early morning, quite unconscious of the little inn's existence.

The bar of the Leaky Cauldron was nearly deserted. Tom, the stooped and toothless landlord, was polishing glasses behind the bar counter; a couple of warlocks having a muttered conversation in the far corner glanced at Hermione and drew back into the shadows.

"Madam Lestrange," murmured Tom, and as Hermione passed he inclined his head subserviently.

"Good morning," said Hermione. Tom looked surprised

"Too polite," Rigel muttered ear as they passed out of the inn into the tinybackyard. "You need to treat people like they're scum!"

"Okay, okay!"

Hermione drew out Bellatrix's wand and tapped a brick in the nondescript wall in front of them was quiet, barely time for the shops to open, and there were hardly any shoppers abroad. The crooked, cobbled street was much altered now from the bustling place Rigel had visited before his first term at Hogwarts almost a decade before. More shops than ever were boarded up, though several new establishments dedicated to the Dark Arts had been created since his last visit. Harry and Eliza's own faces glared down at Rigel from posters plastered over many windows captioned with the words UNDESIRABLE NUMBER ONE AND TWO.

At once the bricks began to whirl and spin: A hole appeared in the middle of them, which grew wider and wider, finally forming an archway onto the narrow cobbled street that was Diagon Alley.

A number of ragged people sat huddled in doorways. He heard them moaning to the few passersby, pleading for gold, insisting that they were really wizards. One man had a bloody bandage over his eye. 

As they set off along the street, the beggars glimpsed Hermione. They seemed to melt away before her, drawing hoods over their faces and fleeing as fast as they could. Hermione looked after them curiously until the man with the bloodied bandage came staggering right across her path.

"My children!" he bellowed, pointing at her. His voice was cracked, high-pitched; he sounded distraught. "Where are my children? What has he done with them? You know you know!"

"I — I really —" stammered Hermione.

The man lunged at her, reaching for her throat: Then, with a bang and a burst of red light he was thrown backward onto the ground, unconscious. Rigel stood there, his wand still outstretched and face impassive. Faces appeared at the windows on either side of the street, while a little knot of prosperous-looking passersby gathered their robes about them and broke into gentle trots, keen to vacate the scene.

Their entrance into Diagon Alley could hardly have been more conspicuous; Before they could move or consult one another, however, they heard a cry from behind them.

"Why, Madam Lestrange!"

Rigel turned around to see a tall, thin wizard with a crown of bushy grey hair and a long, sharp nose was striding toward them. Hermione had drawn herself up to her fullest height and said with as much contempt as she could muster: