27 December 2011
5pm, already dark out
The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade

Niobe waited outside The Three Broomsticks, snuggled up in a scarf and coo'ing to a black tomcat who was headbutting her hands and ankles. He had a collar, clearly a local.

"Who's a good boy, lookit you, lookit you. Tsk tsk tsk, sweet lad. Oh ho, wee charmer."

The kitty cat was good company while she waited for - Rigel was a nephew wasn't he? Niobe hadn't met her cousin Nova's kid yet. Bit of a shame, but by the time they'd moved back to Belfast, Niobe had been long gone to London and swept up in her own bachelor life, getting into trouble with Quidditch stars, Runespoor serpents, and who knows what else.

But no one should be alone for Christmas and when she heard the teenager was stranded in cold Scotland in that drafty magical castle, Niobe'd promised to drop in. He was seventeen so she expected he'd figure out how to make the tricky journey down the mountain into town.

She heard footfalls crunching in on the cold snowy cobblestones, and she looked up. Oh Merlin, he looked exactly like his parents. Niobe, childless, stood and clapped her gloved hands. She didn't know any kids at the moment. Just the dummy twenty-somethings who worked in the bullpen of the Daily Prophet, very clever at carrying coffee. Needless to say, she was looking forward to being the cool auntie. A properly bad influence.

"Rigel, hey...!" She called out to him.

Rigel felt the snow crush beneath his weight. It was that snow that was hard at the top and soft in the middle till it was compressed into the ground by an unsuspecting force, he thought about this. Such a beautiful metaphor that he would store for later to impress people with his profound perspicacity. Maybe he could impress Niobe with it. That doesn’t matter, she’s family, she doesn’t need an impression. It seems that she had more of an impression on him at the moment, his mother was telling him stories -

“Rigel, hey…!” Niobe called out.

“Ciao!” He smirked, he ran with his impulse in yelling out his mother tongue. It adds depth he thought as he changed his body language to be welcoming and warm rather than the previously tight and closed off posture.

"Merlin's knickers," Niobe growled affectionately. "You're adorable. My god, lad. How'd your dad make you? Look at that hair. I'm slain."

She patted him on the cheek and sized him up and down. "Can't believe it. A proper nephew with feet that go all the way to the ground. Gosh, what do I feed him?"

Niobe clicked her tongue, truly happy to meet the kid. He seemed confident and put together. Not like the boys she'd gone to school with all raggedy and hyper.

"How old again?"

He saw her lips moving and registered the sounds but he was taking it all in. Digesting how her voice sound, hearing the affection in her voice. The way her eyes looked at him. Regardless of their disposition she took him in as family immediately. He wonders if he looked more like his father than his mother to Niobe.

“I’m seventeen.” without missing a beat despite the processing going on. He was good like that.

Without the fear of taking control, he motioned inside. He was getting tired of this posture and how much his shoulders caught the wind. Let alone his hair, he needed to maintain his vanity this was an important appearance to maintain. He caught himself at this horribly narcissistic thought.

“Fancy a drink love? I may be seventeen but I do know how to be coquettish with the bartenders.” He said with a wink and a chuckle to let her try and figure out if he was serious or not. All and all, Rigel liked her and he could see her and him getting along quite well.

"Oh my god," Niobe laughed to herself watching the kid work. Charming little shit, wasn't he, not unlike that thick tomcat pretending he owned the place.

She followed him into the pub, unwrapping her scarf as she went. If her nephew had turned out to be shy and surly, Niobe would have taken her cheek pinching down a notch or two. Rigel was neither shy nor surly and had this well in hand. He really must be bored up at school on his own. She knew she'd have been stewing.

Niobe draped her arm over his shoulders in a big-brotherly fashion.

"Oh ho, that so, lad? Well, go on. Get your auntie an Irish coffee. And get us some chips as well. You look half-starved."

She gave him a little shove then peeled off to claim a table by the roaring fire. From there she could watch how he fended getting 'coquettish' with Madam Rosemerta.

When Niobe shoved him off he had quite the smirk. Without missing pace in his gait he took off his jacket by pulling back his shoulders and letting the jacket drape down, he grabbed the collar before falling to the sticky pubs wooden floor and threw it on the nearest barstool his short steps led him to.

Poised in his posture and brave with his voice he motioned to the legendary Rosmerta.

“Hi love, I think I’ll take an Irish Coffee? And ah yeah, what’s it called? Butterbeer? I’d love some chips too if you aren’t too occupied.” he feigned that he was a foreign on these grounds. It was just easier that way. Rigel needed to maintain others perception of him to always have the high-ground. It is a bad habit, he is safe here isn’t he? He flashed back to reality. He intentionally averted his gaze off of Rosmerta to signal disinterest. He felt she would respond better that way, no way she isn’t aware of her own beauty and doesn’t use it to her advantage.

“Love? Miss is fine.”Rosmerta broke his concentration. Rigel read wrong, or maybe this was just how rough it starts out when you don’t give into someone else’s vanity.

“You’re right miss, I just get nervous when talking to someone who so closely resembles Aphrodite.” Rigel doesn’t get nervous, but this woman's empathy could be leveraged for him. Sometimes he hates planting little white lies. They get so hard to maintain but he isn’t much of a pub hopper. He doubts this will last longer than tonight. Besides, he felt challenged by Niobe, he could feel her gaze. Game on.

“I might be able to forgive you.” Rosmerta said with a smile. Ah see this was more what Rigel was used to. He knew how to carry on from here.

“Tell you what Aphrodite, because I have company I can’t give you all the attention that you so desperately deserve. So why don’t you drop the Chips and drinks at that table over there?” Rigel said this with the undertone of such genuine concern of making her go out of her way that she almost felt obligated to carry out this task he so measly asked of her.

“Of course, love” Rosmerta said with a sly smile, grabbing the coffee and heading back to the kitchen to put in the order for the chips.

With that Rigel made way to Niobe.

From across the room, Niobe watched as Rosemerta had mercy on her newfound nephew. She could hear a bit of what he said and, bless his heart, he was sly but Rosemerta has had to have heard every possible line before.

When Rigel arrived back, Niobe shrugged off her coat and scarf and levitated them both to a coat rack by the fire. Then she tapped her wand in her palm, thinking. She was missing the ring finger on her left hand - old 'battle' scar that she'd finally started getting used to after a couple years.

She regarded the lad curiously, inspecting a little. It was so funny. Niobe's brother Pollox didn't have any kids, so Rigel was the closets thing she had to family of that generation. She couldn't believe she hadn't claimed him before.

"Oh, right. Forgot. Happy Christmas."

The package she pulled from her bag was very obviously shaped like a book. It was wrapped in paper clearly marked Flourish & Blotts. 

"It's a book," she declared, not concerned about giving it away.

"Your mum said you read. Open it."

It was Poisonwood Pulp by Rascal Rosier, one of Niobe's favorite authors on the rare occasion she picked up a novel.

Rigel thought that the most surprising gift that Niobe gave to him is that she mentioned his mother, Nova, talks about him. He wondered what those conversations were like.

“A classic, I look forward to it.” Rigel was genuine in his thanks, however he was more focused on the tables bobbing back and forth due to one of the four stubs it had as legs being short.

He peeled back the book and flipped through it, picking up bits and pieces on the way. It looked like an interesting read. Nothing too above his reading level. He liked a challenge and wanted some new words to use. Along the lines of storing metaphors he stores these words for use of constructing an image. He should really let his guard down with Niobe.

Before his train of thought could continue down the road of all the walls he should be tearing down right now to show Niobe his true self, Rosmerta appeared. She was by all means a beautiful well mannered girl.

”Hi love, here is your beer and chips. Miss here is your coffee.” Rosmerta smiled at Rigel and nodded towards Niobe, that sort of nod that shows you she does this to everyone. That nod that signifies that she has a baseline of respect that everyone earns, if you took that away she would stand her ground. Or so that is what Rigel saw through this subtle nod. Before leaving she touched Rigels right shoulder. He looked up and locked eyes with her and smiled. He knew he could pursue this milestone in this five minute relationship, but he was more focused on his newly minted family member.

“You’re a writer right? Daily Prognosticator? Or what was it, the fortune cookie?” Rigel gave her a wry smile. He did this thing where his tongue touches his left canine tooth at the tip of its ripe edge. One mannerism he developed for charming.

"Daily Prophet," Niobe supplied with an arched eyebrow. Cheeky bugger. "And I'm kind of a big deal."

She shouldn't be annoyed that he didn't know - kids didn't read the news. Niobe's byline was all over the paper, most often concerning crime and Magical Law Enforcement - anything that gets her into the thick of the action. That's how she lost her finger, being too bold in a dangerous situation. It was a reminder to think before she diving in, but the balance was tenuous.

Niobe took up a bottle of ketchup and squeezed it all over the piping hot fries. It was the perfect weather for hot food, hot coffee, and a drop of something hard.

"But aye, journalist. Never a dull moment."

Then she leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand, preparing to ask what was probably the most obnoxious question adults asked teenagers. "How's school?"

“I saw your article on the Grants. Tough spot for the parents. I guess family bonds are stronger with Werewolves.” He dodged the question about school, bringing up her field. He doesn’t want Niobe to know his sub par grades. Rigel does not have the effort to explain that he has everything under control. That his boredom drives him to daydream during class.

Whatever, he had this. School was easy for Rigel. All he needed to do was to try and put forth the effort. Or that was always what he told himself. He was distracted by the social hierarchy of Hogwarts and the pyramid of authority.

This was those daydreams that Rigel was prone to. Carrying these thoughts through their end point. Analyzing every little detail. Like how Niobe is missing her left ring finger. What a peculiar finger to lose with no other scars or marks on her other hand or fingers. He tried to imagine all of the scenarios that would warrant such a precise and clean cut, but Niobe interrupted.

Rigel avoided her school question. Aw, youthful folly. Niobe was a master of the interview; maybe as good as an Auror at getting answers. She'd nudge it out of him given enough time.

"Yeah, really rubbish situation. Right mess, the whole thing," she said her tone with a little seriousness. "That girl's going to be back up at Hoggies with all of ye after the holiday. Might need someone on her side up there."

Little one like Greer, no matter how tough she was, was bound to face all of the nastiness fearful little monsters had to offer. Any nephew of hers, Gryffindor or not, she'd hope would stand the line.

"If ye're not too busy studying..." Niobe sipped her coffee.

Ah so she can pick up on subtleties too. The ways in which one implies an almost mere infinity of suggestions with the right placed words. This would be a fun little game that Rigel could establish. That’s right, she was an interviewer for all the headlining stories out of the Daily Prophet. Makes sense to Rigel. His pretentiousness often escapes him, sooner or later he will have to stop compartmentalizing it and face it head on.

“Who needs studying when you understand how people work? You should know, you have one less ring to wear.” Rigel said the latter with have a chip in his mouth, letting the heat of the fires air out between his chewing. He did not make eye contact so it would mitigate the risk of aggression. Rigel calculated that Niobe would have a good enough humor to banter with this. All he needed her to know was that he can see her, and understand her. After all it’s always nice to be understood.

“And yes Greer will be fine, not a big fan of bullying.” Rigel really didn’t want his quip to ferment in her mind. He wondered if she analyzed things like him. Regardless, Greer would be fine. She’s 12 wasn’t she? Second year if Rigel remembers correctly. He’s made it his goal to never see a new face twice. You can’t hold power over people if you do not know who’s playing on the playground. Rigel wanted his turn on the swings.

Niobe smirked. Her precocious wee nephew wasn't studying. There was no way that was working out, not in NEWT level courses. Even the smartest Ravenclaws in Niobe's year had been pulling their hair out. Tsk tsk. It was only a hunch, of course, he could be joking around.

"Can't say I condemn the sentiment, Rig, abandoning all for a bit of justice, but no one wants to leave Hogwarts with no NEWTs to show for it. Unless you fancy delivering newspapers til you're grey? Noble profession really. I mean, who else is going to do it. Too heavy for owls."[1]

She leaned forward and ate more chips. "No no, I can see it. I can see it. You could skip your seventh year and come work for the Daily Prophet. Fetch coffee for the reporters, cracking and brooming all over the country at four in the morning. Seems like a perfect fit for you."

Niobe winked and took a sip of her spiked coffee.

1.	Owls deliver the mail.

Rigel had to strain to hide his excitement. Niobe is quite the quipper, they will get along great. How long will he keep his walls up, and maintain this visage. It is a tricky spot for someone with narcissistic tendencies to be in. Will he be vain and expose his proclivities in class? How all of his teachers don’t dare to bother him because they know of his potential. Or should he gracefully take the hit and roll with it like Niobe had done onto him. There is even humility in not bragging and defending his name.

If he tries to prove himself to her she could use it as a weakness. Such a horrible habit to be closed off to everyone. Rigel needed to start somewhere. Why not someone as potentially like minded as him? Especially his Aunt.

“You know I always thought I’d make a good janitor, I’m glad I’m not the only one that can see it! Even my teachers see things I can’t, but the positions they want me in aren’t as attractive as your proposal. Are you hiring?” Rigel said this with his head tipped back and eyes following the ceiling. This was a mannerism that he developed when he wanted to choose his words very carefully. He finally let his head down when asked about job openings. Eye contact is a thing he won’t shy away from now. She’s very good at nuanced prevarication.

"Always hiring," Niobe said soberly. It was hard at the bottom down at the Prophet. Long hours and the editor-in-chief Barnabas Cuffe was an infamous tyrant.

"But you don't really want to do that. World needs all types, of course, I won't shame anyone for doing honest work." She raised her hands in defense.

"But just listen to you, you speak like professor. I'm just some crazy old lady posing as your auntie in an elaborate con, mate, but I'd bet it all that you've got an actual ambition that's got nought to do with mops."

She leaned forward and leveled her gaze at him. "Tell me I'm wrong."