Dragon Pox

If Phineas Nigellus Black had to be described in one word, those who knew him would have unanimously chosen inconsistent. The man was, according to many, a walking, talking oxymoron. For instance, he hated animals, yet he owned seven cats; he openly discriminated against Muggleborns, nonetheless the first woman he ever loved belonged to that category; he abhorred kids, yet he was still the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

However, if Phineas were to define himself, the adjective selected probably would have been clever. He put a lot of thought into his actions, guided always by long-term goals. He was a Slytherin through and through: ambitious, resourceful, cunning, and with a strong sense of self-preservation. If confronted about it, he would deny any discrepancy in his behavior, and because he was far too proud and stubborn, he would surely come up with a justification for every single thought, decision, deed, and omission. For example, if asked about his disliked for animals and his ownership of seven cats, the answer would have been very simple: his now deceased wife, Ursula, loved those hairy creatures. Their marriage was far from perfect; like most arranged unions it was not rooted in romance or affection, and in their particular case arguments, fights and threats were respected daily routines. Thankfully for him, while her temper proved to be a challenge from the very beginning, cats appeared to be a good solution that kept her occupied. Besides, Grimmauld place was big enough to let those felines roam around without them bothering him. If he were to be asked about his blood-purity beliefs and the Muggleborn witch from Hufflepuff he secretly dated, the interrogator would be at the receiving end of multiple curses, so the answer to that question will forever be unknown. Finally, regarding his position at Hogwarts, the explanation would also be as logical as the first one: the position was highly respected, it promised helpful connections, and his life as a widower with adults kids was becoming dull.

By now, at least one thing should be evident: Phineas was an arrogant wizard. Hadn't that been the case, he wouldn't have been predisposed to defend fervently everything he's done throughout his whole life. It would take a lot of effort, and perhaps some veritaserum too, to make him admit a mistake or a regret—after all, his life was perfect, thank you very much. He was a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, nothing less could be expected.

A life with no regrets! Poor old man, he was either foolish or stupid, or both.

To a great extent, that also made him a liar. Of course, his life had its fair share of tragedy and disappointments. Many of those, if given the chance, he would alter without second thought. Instead of accepting them and moving forward, Phineas denied it all, which resulted in bitterness and anger. One of his greatest regrets – although minuscule compared to case of his blood-traitor son - had happened quite recently, less than three years ago.

October 1920

It was almost midnight, but it seemed Phineas wasn't going to get any sleep that night. He was in his office, firewhisky in one hand and his wand in the other. Two professors were facing him, while the third one was pacing around. At least fifty letters were scattered on the desk, a few Howlers included. Chaos had already erupted at Hogwarts, just one month into the new academic year.

"At this rate, most of the students will be gone before the Christmas break! We will only be left with the Mudbloods!" exclaimed the dark-haired wizard.

"We? If this doesn't get resolved by the end of the week, I'll leave too." Nothing less was expected from someone like Ernst Flint.

"There hasn't been a fatal case—"

"Yet."

"There hasn't been a fatal case, and Madam Pomfrey has everything under control," Beltran Borgin continued.

"The Hospital Wing is full, more than twenty students have been taken home, surely after tomorrow's newspaper the rest of the parents will come and take their kids as well. Exactly how is everything under control?"

No one replied, and they continued drinking. The letters received accused the school of being negligent for putting the lives of students at risk and threatened to take the students from the institution. After the tenth letter, Phineas had stopped reading them. It was obvious that most of the letters were written collectively by pure-blood witches who had nothing more interesting to do with their lives but gather together to discuss the latest rumors, affairs and secrets of others.

"What do you think the headline is going to be? 'Hogwarts: changing the motto from 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon' to 'Don't come close, we've got dragon pox' sounds appropriate, right? Maybe I should owl the Daily Prophet."

"Flint, next time you open your mouth, I'll curse you."

Twenty-seven students were being treated due to an outbreak of dragon pox at the school. None of the cases were life-threatening, but given that it was a potentially fatal and highly contagious disease, extreme measures were needed. The headmaster's main concern was not the health of the students; the diagnosis assured that those infected needed to rest, and that with enough time it would all go away. No, his main problem at the moment was that, if he had paid attention and followed his gut feeling, it would all have been avoided.

Several weeks prior, Phineas had finally found a competent person to fill in as the new Transfiguration Professor. Bastian Ivanoff was an accomplished transfigurer, who had authored various books on the branch of magic while working at the Destring Institute—a school Hogwarts needed to resemble more, according to the headmaster. The greenish complexion should have been the first hint that something was wrong with the man. Unfortunately, Phineas didn't give it much thought; it could have been caused by the lack of sunlight exposure, or it could have even been his natural skin tone. Throughout the interview he also appeared to be very frail and weak, although that was not alarming; the wizard had to be at least a hundred years old. Worst case scenario, he died, and unless he decided to follow Professor Binns' steps and continued to teach as a ghost, the vacancy would be open again.

When he noticed the third hint, it was already too late. First and second year students were chatting about how comical Professor Ivanoff was; he could make purple sparks come out from his nose whenever he sneezed. That same evening, he was sent to the second floor of St. Mungo's Hospital, where the Healers were surprised a case like his hadn't spread all throughout the school. Sure enough, the next morning, ten kids were in the Hospital Wing. By the end of the day, the number of cases rose up to twenty-seven and another twenty students were taken from the castle by their worried, and somewhat paranoid, parents.

The following day, all hell broke loose. The Daily Prophet, misleading and biased as always, informed the whole wizarding community about 'the global epidemic' taking place at Hogwarts. After claiming that most of the alumni were already infected, it went on by stating that lack of dragon pox cure made it impossible for the victims to survive the disease—nothing better than an apocalyptic news article to start the morning.

The Ministry sent a group of Healers for a general inspection; all of the students that were in the Hospital Wing were taken to St. Mungo and classes were suspended for one whole week. The only one that seemed to be enjoying the outbreak was Peeves; he was too busy throwing scarlet ink at random people with a large peacock feather quill to make the skin look pockmarked.

Although the number of students with dragon pox remained the same, the number of students taken home grew exponentially. The general inspection proved that eruption was under control and that the cases weren't life-threatening. Both statements were ignored. As if that were not enough, Phineas was not able to find a substitute teacher for the new vacant position. After all the bad press the school received, it was no surprise that no one wanted to apply. He had no other option but give the Transfiguration classes himself.

If he had paid more attention, he would have noticed Bastian Ivanoff was sick before others were infected. The whole drama caused by the media and the parents would never have happened. Most importantly, he wouldn't have been forced to teach Transfiguration to tedious and self-absorbed students.

After all, maybe he was indeed a contradictory person. He hated young people, yet he ended up being not only the Headmaster of Hogwarts but also the Transfiguration Professor for one whole year, a class he had no personal interest in. On the bright side, his sister had it worse than him; she was crazy enough to be hanging house-elves heads around the house.

-C'est fini-

THANKS FOR READING!

THANK YOU C.K AND TIGGER!

Word count: 1509 / Category: Short / Prompt: [Event] Outbreak of Dragon pox / House: Gryffindor