Chapter Nine
Phineas Nigellus
Harry didn't know how he was going to tell Dumbledore about what had just happened. Normally, if something odd happened (like his scar hurting, which wasn't a very odd occurrence anymore), Ron and Hermione would encourage him to tell Dumbledore. And normally, Harry would convince himself that such a thing was too silly to get worked up about.
But after last year, Harry knew he had to tell Dumbledore everything. He wasn't going to let any more of his friends get hurt—or worse—because he was too embarrassed to ask Dumbledore for help.
Ron headed for the Gryffindor table to tell Hermione what had happened. Harry took a deep breath and walked towards the Head Table. Dumbledore was sitting with Tabitha, talking quietly. Charlie Weasley sat on her other side as he talked to Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms teacher.
Tabitha looked up as Harry approached. Dumbledore stopped talking and turned to look at him. Harry's eyes darted from Dumbledore's kindly smiling face to Tabitha's cold, emotionless one. "Er ... Professor Dumbledore, could I talk to you? ... Privately?"
Dumbledore continued to smile. "Is something the matter, Harry?"
"It's only ... er," Harry hesitated. He would be having an Occlumency lesson with Tabitha tonight. Perhaps she should hear Harry as well. No, Harrytold himself firmly. If she had to know, Dumbledore would surely tell her. If not, then she could just stay in the dark, as far as Harry cared.
"Perhaps this would be best in my office?" Dumbledore said softly.
Harry sighed and grinned with relief. "Yes, sir, it would be."
Dumbledore nodded. "If you'll just have a bite of breakfast, Harry, then I will be ready for you in twenty minutes. Is that all right?" Harry agreed readily.
When he sat down at the Gryffindor table, Hermione was looking at him urgently. "You were able to use Legilimency on Ron?" she whispered. "How is that possible?"
"I dunno. I have to be at Dumbledore's office in twenty minutes. Probably best if you come with me, mate," Harry said to Ron.
Ron's face was still pink from Harry finding out about him and Hermione. He got even redder as he looked from Hermione to Harry. "Er, Hermione," he began. He coughed nervously. "When Harry ... well, when he did that, he sort of saw ... us, er, together. This year—in the common room ..."
Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice and her eyes opened rather wide. She turned as red as Ron. "Harry, we were going to tell you. It's just—"
"It's okay," Harry said quickly. "Really, I should have known. You're my best friends … I'm just so thick."
"You've had your mind on other things," Hermione said softly. "That's sort of why we didn't want to say anything. We were going to tell you, later, once you'd had time for … well, you know, to … to recover."
"How did, er … I mean, when …"
"The week before last term ended. They were fighting in the common room about Hermione's latest letter from Viktor Krum, and when I came back, they'd made up quite nicely," Ginny said matter-of-factly. She had just appeared at the Gryffindor table and was now settling herself across from Harry. Ron's face turned a darker shade of crimson.
"We're having tryouts on Thursday," Ron told her quickly, trying to change the subject. Harry, meanwhile, could still see Ron kissing Hermione. He giddily thought of his first kiss, with Cho Chang last Christmas. He didn't fancy her anymore, but it was still a nice memory …
"Good," Ginny said. "You know, Sloper and Kirke have been very excited about 'testing out' the new Chasers during tryouts," she added slyly.
Ron paled. Harry wondered if he was reconsidering kicking Sloper and Kirke off the team.
Harry only picked at his breakfast. Hermione and Ron were bickering about the best way to give the Gryffindor Beaters the bad news—and as they fought, one of Sloper and Kirke's friends overheard them and started demanding why Ron wanted to throw them off the team. Harry saw Dumbledore leaving the Head Table. As he left the Great Hall, he glanced in Harry's directions and smiled. Harry poked Ron in the side. "C'mon, mate, Dumbledore's going up to his office." They hurried away, leaving Hermione and Ginny to calm down Sloper and Kirke's angry friend.
The entrance to Dumbledore's office was on the second floor, behind a large stone gargoyle. It occurred to Harry that he didn't know Dumbledore's password this year.
Suddenly, Dumbledore's pet phoenix, Fawkes, appeared beside Harry with a piece of parchment in his mouth. "What is it, mate?" Ron asked, jumping when Fawkes disappeared.
"The password," Harry said with a grin. "Ton-Tongue Toffee!" Ton-Tongue Toffees were Fred and George inventions—they were imbued with an Engorgement Charm that caused the tongue of whoever ate them to swell up like a slug. The twins had once tricked Dudley Dursley into eating one of the sweets.
Once Harry said the password, the gargoyle opened up to reveal a large, spiraling stairway. Harry and Ron stepped onto it, and it carried them up to Dumbledore's office.
The office was always full of interesting instruments. The large Pensieve that Harry had used to see Snape's memories last year was back in its proper home, in Dumbledore's office. Fawkes was sitting on his perch besides Dumbledore's desk. The headmaster was standing beside his bird, stroking the brilliant red and gold feathers. Sitting in front of the desk was a witch with long, sleek black hair. Harry's heart sank. He didn't want Tabitha to be here.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled when he saw Harry and Ron. "Ah, so this matter of urgency has something to do with Mr. Weasley?" Tabitha turned around suddenly to look at them. She gave Ron a kind smile but ignored Harry. Dumbledore seemed to sense Harry's unease around Tabitha. "Professor McNoira and I were just finishing up."
"We're all set then, sir?" Tabitha asked Dumbledore.
"Everything is being put into place. No worries." Harry and Ron exchanged quick looks. "Now, if you'll excuse me and Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley …"
"Of course." Tabitha walked towards the door. She turned around before leaving. "I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore, but perhaps you know which class Mr. Malfoy, Miss Bulstrode, and Miss Parkinson of Slytherin have right now? They owe me some homework that I must have missed at breakfast." She sent a quick, mischievous look to both Harry and Ron.
"Perhaps you ought to check with Professor Snape? They are in his house," Dumbledore suggested.
Tabitha's face darkened. "I suppose I can find them myself," she said. "Thank you, Professor."
Once she had shut the door, Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk and motioned for Harry and Ron to sit as well. "Well," Dumbledore said. "Now that we are alone, Harry?"
Harry glanced at Ron. "Well, Ron and I were talking on our way to the Great Hall. And … and I was thinking that I wanted to know what he was thinking, and I looked right at him, right into his eyes, and it was like I was using Legilimency on him. I could see all these memories."
Dumbledore nodded. He looked at Ron. "Were you aware that Harry was inside your mind?" he asked.
Ron shrugged. "I guess. I just saw all these things all of a sudden, and I kind of had the feeling that I wasn't the only one there."
Dumbledore was silent for a moment. Then, very carefully, he said, "I think, Harry, that this is just another remnant of your original confrontation with Voldemort." When Harry was a baby and Voldemort had tried to kill him, the evil wizard didn't leave just a scar on Harry's forehead. He had inadvertently transferred some of his powers to the young wizard. Harry could speak Parseltongue—snake language—because of this. The backfired spell also caused a mental link between Harry and Voldemort, which is how Voldemort was able to manipulate Harry's dreams last year. Harry had to learn Occlumency to block this link, so Voldemort could not control his mind.
Ron looked panicked. "You mean, You-Know-Who is possessing Harry and using Legilimency on us?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "No, no, Mr. Weasley. Lord Voldemort is a master of Legilimency. He can perform it without the incantation, as I can. It seems that trying to teach Harry to block his mind with Occlumency has opened up his ability to use Legilimency. But with regular Occlumency lessons and practice, Harry, this particular trait shall be put to rest again. I wouldn't worry. Just try not to look your friends in the eye for a while." He chuckled. "If that's all, I have an urgent meeting to attend to now. I suppose we are done?" Harry nodded. "Good. Professor McNoira will be waiting for you in her classroom after dinner, Harry."
"I can't wait," Harry muttered to Ron. "Thanks, Professor."
As they left the office, Harry thought he heard something hissing. He looked around frantically for any sign of a snake—perhaps one of Voldemort's spies—but saw nothing. The hissing stopped, then started again. Ron poked him in his side. "Oy, mate," he whispered, pointing up to a portrait hanging on wall.
It was Phineas Nigellus, Hogwarts' least popular headmaster and Sirius Black's great-great-grandfather. Phineas was trying to get Harry's attention. "Sixth-floor corridor just past the corridor full of dented suits of armor," he whispered. "At the painting of the doe."
Harry looked at Ron curiously as they descended the spiral stairs. "What d'you think he wants?" Harry asked.
Ron shrugged. "I dunno, mate, but if we go see him, we'll be cutting it awfully close to McGonagall's class." Professor McGonagall hated students to be late to her class, but Harry's curiosity got the better of him. "Let's go," he said.
They ran up to the sixth floor quickly. It didn't take long to find the corridor full of dented armor. Sure enough, just around the corner was a short corridor with three paintings, one of which was of a doe eating grass in a large, lush forest. Phineas Nigellus appeared beside her a moment later, wheezing. "I didn't realize they moved the painting of that bloke, Cadogan. He nearly got me with his sword!"
"What do you want?" Harry demanded.
"My great-great-grandson died several months ago," Phineas said haughtily. "And no one will tell me how. My painting at Grimmauld Place was moved to another room, so I can't ask anyone there." The painting used to be in the room that Harry and Ron shared. Harry hadn't even noticed that Phineas had been missing.
"Well, why do you care?" Harry said hotly. "You weren't even fond of him! He was a disgrace to your family, or else he was burned from the family tree because someone was bored!"
Phineas actually looked hurt, but a moment later he continued angrily, "He certainly was a disgrace to the Blacks! He didn't even leave a son to pass on the family name. But don't speak of something that you do not know about. I was quite fond of him. Sirius may not have been of the same mindset as the rest of our family, but he wasn't afraid to tell them all what he believed. My great-grandson Alphard did not have that sense of bravery. The best thing he ever did was give Sirius money to live off of after he ran away from my great-grandson and his wife, that horrible, screeching woman." Phineas' look softened considerably. "Please, tell me what happened to him."
"Well, he was killed by your lovely great-great-granddaughter, all right?" Harry said hotly. "Someone who's really looking out to keep the Blacks' legacy alive by killing her own cousin."
"Bellatrix? Bellatrix killed Sirius?" Phineas nodded to himself. He paced back and forth. The doe watched him intently. "Ah. Ah, so he died fighting for Dumbledore?"
"He died fighting for me," Harry said softly.
Phineas narrowed his eyes. "But surely," he was mumbling. "He'd have thought of—"
"Harry, Ron, is there a reason you're here and not in class, where you belong?" a sharp voice said behind them. Tabitha was approaching them quickly from another corridor. Phineas Nigellus watched her, wide-eyed.
"Er … we were just on our way," Ron said quickly. He and Harry cast one last look at Phineas before bolting down the corridor, towards the stairs that would lead to Transfiguration. Harry thought he heard Phineas' voice say, "Tabitha!" as he and Ron were leaving.
"McGonagall won't be happy," Ron said as they leapt past a trick stair. Harry groaned inwardly. McGonagall hated it when students were late to her class.
Somehow, they were able to slip into the room just as Professor McGonagall was shutting the door. "Cutting it a bit close today?" she said sharply. "Go on, take your seats."
Hermione had saved them both seats in the front of the room. Scattered around were several Gryffindor and Hufflepuff sixth-years. Dean Thomas and a handful of girls were the only other Gryffindors. Many of the Hufflepuffs from Defense Against the Dark Arts were present as well.
"Where were you?" Hermione whispered crossly.
"We'll tell you later," Ron muttered.
Professor McGonagall was waiting to begin. Her mere presence caused all chattering to cease, and she began by congratulating them all on doing so well on their O.W.L. "You should all be aware, however," she continued. "That this class will not be an easy one. This is the year that we begin studying human transfiguration, which is difficult and dangerous magic. I will teach you the theory behind Animagi—yes, Miss Granger, I am aware that we studied Animagi in your third year, but we will study much further than we did last time." Hermione lowered her eagerly raised hand. "Any student behaving irresponsibly will be asked to leave and will not be asked to return. Now, to begin, can anyone tell me what a Metamorphmagus is?"
Hermione's hand shot in the hair, followed closely by Ron's and Harry's. Tonks was a Metamorphmagus, and one of her pastimes last summer was transforming herself for Ginny and Hermione's amusement. Harry thought he could see a faint smile on McGonagall's lips as she said, "Yes, Mr. Weasley?"
"Metamorphmagi can transform their appearances without a wand," Ron replied happily. He had never been able to answer a teacher so thoroughly on a topic they hadn't even studied yet. "They can change their hair and eye color, and the shapes of their face and the rest of their body. And they're born that way. You can't become one like you can an Animagus." Ron looked very pleased with himself as McGonagall said, "Very good, Mr. Weasley," and moved on with the lesson. Harry got his first bit of homework—eight inches about the powers of Metamorphmagi and some famous Metamorphmagi from wizard history. He and Ron also arranged for Quidditch tryouts to be held on Thursday evening.
They had a short break before lunch, and, as it was a nice day, they went down to the lake. Harry walked a few paces ahead. When he turned around to see how closely Ron and Hermione were following, he saw that they were holding hands. His stomach lurched with jealousy. Why couldn't he be walking around, hand-in-hand with a pretty girl? But he let go of the thought just as quickly as it came. He shouldn't be jealous of Ron. He'd had his chance with Cho last year and blew it. But he knew it wasn't Cho he wanted to hold hands with …
They settled beneath the same tree that Harry had seen his father, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew sit under in Snape's memory. Harry could see his father playing with the Snitch he'd nicked, Sirius looking handsomely bored.
"So where were you?" Hermione demanded. "I know you weren't with Dumbledore, because he returned to the Great Hall before Ginny and I left."
"Sirius' great-great-grandfather wanted to talk to us," Harry said. "You know, Phineas—"
"Nigellus. He was the most unpopular Headmaster Hogwarts has ever—"
"Yes, Hermione, we know. You don't have to have read Hogwarts, A History to know that," Ron said teasingly.
She rolled her eyes at him, but Harry noticed that she'd taken his hand again. "Go on, Harry."
"He wanted to know how Sirius died. No one ever told him how," Harry said simply.
"Did you tell him?" Hermione sounded far too anxious.
"Well, yeah, we told him."
"Harry, didn't you think there might be a reason why no one told him? Maybe Dumbledore didn't want him to know …"
"Hermione, it's his great-great-grandson! He deserves to know!"
"I know what you're saying, Harry …"
"Listen, Hermione, I don't think you're exactly right in the head this year," Harry said hotly.
"Hey, Harry, watch it!" Ron snapped.
"Well, first she's all chummy with Tabitha, then she doesn't believe me when I tell her about Lupin and Tabitha talking in the kitchen—"
"I do believe you, Harry! I believe what you heard, I just don't think …"
"—and now she's saying we can't tell a painting that his great-great-grandson was killed by his cousin! What's next, Hermione? Are we going to catch you snogging Draco Malfoy in the corridors?" Harry snarled.
Hermione burst into tears and ran up to the castle. Ron turned to Harry, shouting furiously, "What'd you do that for? She was only worried about everyone's safety! Maybe we shouldn't have told Nigellus about Sirius."
"Sure, take her side," Harry muttered angrily.
"Harry."
"No, it's all right, Ron. Go take care of your girlfriend." Harry flopped down on the ground, his back against the tree, completely ignoring Ron.
Ron stared at him for a moment in silence. When he spoke, his voice was thick with anger. "We miss Sirius, too, you know. Remember, Hermione helped you save him the first time. I know you're sad he died. But instead of taking it out on us like you did when Cedric died, you could just tell us you're upset, and we'll help you. That's what friends are for, mate." Harry heard him run after Hermione.
Seeing Hermione run from him sobbing, and imagining James Potter and Sirius Black under this tree, so young and so completely unaware of their short futures, and without caring that there were other students around, some who had heard arguing and were looking towards the tree for the source, Harry began to sob. Rivers of tears poured down his cheeks as he sat by the calm lake. His shoulders shook with each heaving sob. A long tentacle emerged from the lake and landed gently on Harry's knee, patting his leg soothingly.