Author's Note: Somebody asked if I was intending to have a lot of the characters be ancestors of people who are around at Harry's time. The simple answer for this is, yes. Most of the characters will be ancestors of characters who actually appear in the books. The reason for this is mostly because the old wizarding families have to play a large role, and this is in part because there aren't a lot of Muggleborns attending Hogwarts at the moment. So we've got a lot of characters called Dumbledore and Ollivander (obviously), and Potter, and Malfoy, and Black, and Lestrange and such running about.
Aside from that, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Review and tell me what you think! Thanks to everyone who's reading! Oh, and to everyone who wants me to review their stuff, I promise I will, I've just been so busy lately! I'll definitely get round to it soon.
Dumbledore (Part I – The Phoenix)
Chapter VII – Phineas Nigellus Black
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Percival had expected to be outraged at the sight of him. He had expected to launch into a tirade, full of moralising statements, demands for compensation on his cousin's part, and righteous indignation. Instead, he found himself standing there mutely, neither enraged nor particularly confident. Now that it came to it, he did not have a clue what to say to the man – and there was also the problem that if he offended him, he would likely be turned away from Hogwarts forever. Was it worth it? He pressed his lips together.
Professor Lovegood waved his wand, and three chairs appeared out of nowhere in front of the desk. "Professor Black," he said, "Mr Ollivander tells me that he has important business with you."
Black gave Alistair a shrewd look and said, "Does he really? How very odd. Well, as Professor Lovegood has been so good as to conjure up chairs for the three of you, do sit down."
Alistair, Percival, and Catherine sat down as ordered. Percival shifted uncomfortably. The chairs were rigid and hard. Professor Lovegood was standing beside the Headmaster's desk with his arms crossed, apparently having no inclination to leave.
"Professor," Alistair began, "this is Percival Dumbledore. He is Muggleborn, and never received his letter till this summer. His mother hid it from him because she thought it was a joke. But now he knows better, and he wishes to stay at Hogwarts and learn to become a proper wizard."
"Is that so?" Black asked, turning his gaze lazily to Percival and fixing him with a rather unnerving stare. "How tragic. Unfortunately, this young man is well over the age at which most students are admitted to the school. He must be seventeen already."
"I won't be seventeen till May," Percival replied, fighting to maintain eye contact with the Headmaster. He was sorely tempted to look out the window, or down at his feet, or at the strange, patched hat sitting on the shelf behind the desk.
"I am afraid that I could not permit you to take classes with the first years," Black continued, templing his fingers. "And I think I may assume that you would not particularly enjoy being in a class of eleven-year-olds anyhow, Mr Dumbledore."
"If I may," Professor Lovegood spoke up, "Mr Dumbledore may not be required to attend classes at all. He could very easily make use of our excellent library, and apply to the teachers for assistance if he needed – "
Black waved of his hand. "The professors certainly cannot spare the time to tutor a student who is so very far behind," he said dismissively. "It is – ah – a great shame, of course, but - "
"But that isn't fair!" Catherine cut him off. "He's got the letter, he can show it to you! He's a wizard, and he's got the right to attend school. It's law."
Black let her finish, and then said, wryly, "You are very well versed in wizarding law for an eleven-year-old girl, of course, Miss Ollivander – however, I would thank you to not interrupt me. Five points from Gryffindor." Catherine flushed.
Professor Lovegood, however, seemed to agree with Catherine. "It is law, Phineas," he stated, peering at Percival. "You cannot legally refuse him entry to the school – unless, of course, he presented some sort of threat, which he clearly does not – especially as he is under seventeen."
Black regarded Percival steadily, with just the slightest hint of a frown. He was silent for some time, almost as if he were trying to think of some way that Percival posed a threat to the school. Finally, with a slight sigh, he said, "Very well. You are lucky, Mr Dumbledore, that you have clever friends. But the question still begs to be answered – what are we going to do with you?"
Percival thought he knew what the Headmaster would like to do with him – he certainly knew what he would like to do with the Headmaster – but he kept his mouth shut. Professor Lovegood spoke up again. "If he has the initiative and the discipline, he could very well be mostly self taught, seeing as how he is in a controlled environment. And I do not see that any of the teachers would be unwilling to help him. I, personally, should be glad to." He gave Percival a small smile. Percival found that he rather liked Professor Lovegood.
"Do you have the initiative and discipline?" Black wondered, in a tone that clearly suggested his belief that he did not.
"Yes," Percival said firmly, "I do. I've been mostly self-taught for over a year anyway."
"Very well," said Black, leaning back in his chair and looking unpleasant. "But there is still the question of where to put you. Certainly not in a dormitory with the first years, that much is clear. And, the more pressing matter, which house shall you be in?"
Catherine, unable to contain herself, spoke out again. "He ought to be put in Gryffindor," she said. "He only knows me and my brother, and we're both in Gryffindor."
"Yes, Miss Ollivander, but your opinion hardly matters, does it?" Black replied tiredly, as if she were being extremely tedious. "No, Mr Dumbledore will be sorted into his proper house, just like every new student at the school. I rather think it might be Slytherin," he said, clearly enjoying the incredulous looks on Alistair and Catherine's faces, "since it must have taken a great deal of ambition to even come to be sitting in this office. Let's see, shall we?" He rose from his chair, and took the battered old hat off the shelf behind him. Addressing the hat, he said, "We have a new student for you to sort. I know it is late in the year, but these are... special circumstances."
"Very well, then!" the hat exclaimed, startling Percival a good deal.
Black walked around the desk, and placed the hat on Percival's head. As soon as it covered his ears, the sound in the room dimmed, as if he were underwater. The hat immediately began speaking to him. "Dumbledore, is it?" came the hat's voice in his ear, and Percival started again. "A Muggleborn, I see. What a treat. We haven't had many of you lately. Phineas Nigellus is right, of course, it must have taken a good deal of ambition to arrive here – also hard work, nerve, and cleverness – so where to put you? Not Slytherin, I think... not Hufflepuff... you might be good in Ravenclaw, yes, but I think the best house for you is... GRYFFINDOR!"
The hat shouted the last word aloud for everyone in the office to hear. Black took it off Percival's head and placed it back on the shelf behind his desk where it was silent once more. Percival felt as though a great weight had disappeared from his stomach.
"Well," Black said briskly, "I see Miss Ollivander has got her wish. Very well. You will return to the Gryffindor common room, and you will be staying in the dormitory with the other sixth year boys. Professor Lovegood, coincidentally, is the head of your house. Oh, and Mr Dumbledore, you will be expected to abide by all of the school rules which apply to normal students while you are here, so you may wish to have your friends explain them to you."
"Excellent, I'll explain it all to him," said Alistair, grinning, and they all rose from their chairs.
"Not so fast," Black called, now smirking slightly. "There is one more thing. If Mr Dumbledore wishes to continue at Hogwarts past the point at which he would have left school, had he started when he was supposed to, I have one requirement."
"What's that?" Percival asked, feeling his heart sink a bit.
"Only that at the end of what would have been your seventh year – that is, not this June, but the June after that – you will sit your O.W.L.s with the fifth years, and pass them all. You may concentrate on any nine subjects, except for Muggle Studies."
"Phineas, really," said Professor Lovegood, "don't you think that's a bit – lofty?"
"Not at all," Black replied, smirk deepening. "I think that it is perfectly reasonable. Indeed, it is doing Dumbledore a favour. I am not legally obligated to allow him to continue at school after he is seventeen, and I am giving him an opportunity to do so, should he choose to take it."
"But Phineas," Lovegood pressed, "to expect someone with no experience to condense five years of study into a year and a half - "
"I'm sure that Mr Dumbledore, with the determination so inherent in a Gryffindor, will find a way to do it," he interrupted. "After all, we have already established that he has remarkable ambition. And now, if you please, I have some business to attend to. Farewell."
Percival quit the office with Alistair, Catherine, and Professor Lovegood. He did not know whether he ought to feel happy or frustrated. When they emerged into the corridor again, Professor Lovegood addressed him. "You'll need a uniform," he said, "unless you want to stand out like a sore thumb. I'll take you to Hogsmeade myself on Saturday. That way you can get all of your necessary supplies."
Percival thought that this was very generous, and thanked him. "But what are O.W.L.s?" he asked.
"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," Lovegood replied. "Normally sat by students in fifth year. They usually consist of a practical test and a written examination."
"And how am I to decide which subjects to concentrate on?" Percival wondered as they continued walking. "I don't even know what subjects there are."
"Mr Ollivander will explain it all to you, I hope," Professor Lovegood replied as they came to the door of his office. "Meet me in the entrance hall on Saturday." He smiled. "Welcome to Hogwarts." And then he went into his office.
Percival, Alistair, and Catherine continued on through the corridors, and Percival finally began to feel truly excited. Nevermind Phineas Nigellus Black. He was not going think about that right now. He was going to enjoy his victory – he was a Hogwarts student. He had done it.
"So Professor Lovegood is the head of Gryffindor house?" Percival asked. 'My house,' he thought, and grinned.
"Yes," Catherine answered. "He teaches History of Magic. He's brilliant."
Eventually, after climbing what seemed like a dozen staircases, they arrived at a painting of a fat lady in a pink dress. "How am I ever going to find my way around this place?" Percival shook his head.
"Oh, you'll get lost all the time, at least for the first couple weeks," Catherine assured him. "But after awhile it becomes easier. Well, are we going in or not?"
'I haven't got the password," Alistair replied. "Have you?"
"No," Catherine frowned.
Just then, the portrait swung open, and a blond-haired boy sporting a prefect's badge came out of a hole behind it. Percival stared. "Hello, Alistair," the boy said. He surveyed Percival with pale blue eyes. "Who's this?"
"Percival Dumbledore," Alistair answered. "But I'll explain later. Listen, Dominic, what's the password?"
"Are you going to leave me hanging open all day?" the fat lady in the portrait suddenly cried. Percival gaped. He had thought he had seen some of the portraits in the Headmaster's office moving, but apparently they could speak as well. He tried to remember if he had read about this in 'A Muggleborn's Guide to Magic'.
"Just hold on," Alistair told her irritably.
"The password is 'Hogmanay'," Dominic said, as a couple of girls exited the portrait hole behind him. "And have you seen Potter? He owes me seven sickles."
"I saw him at the Ministry, he was in the queue behind us, but I haven't seen him since," Alistair replied, climbing through the portrait hole. Catherine and Percival followed him.
"All right, I'll see you at supper!" Dominic called after him, and the portrait swung closed behind them.
"Michael's owed Dominic seven sickles since third year," Alistair remarked. "You'd think he'd have let it go by now."
"This," said Catherine, ignoring her brother, "is the Gryffindor common room." It was the most comfortable-looking room Percival had ever seen. There were cosy armchairs, a blazing fire, warm rugs and wall hangings everywhere. It was currently filled with chattering students having just returned back from the Christmas holiday.
"Come on," said Alistair, "I'll show you our dormitory. Cathy, we'll see you at supper." Percival followed Alistair up a spiral staircase and through a door into the sixth year boys' dormitory. It was a circular room with five four poster beds, a trunk at the bottom of each. "I guess they put a new bed in here for you," Alistair observed. "There were only four of them before." On one of the beds, a portly boy with sandy brown hair was sitting, reading a book. "Hi, Gilbert," Alistair greeted him.
Gilbert looked up. "Oh, hullo, Alistair," he said. "Any idea why we've got an extra bed in here? And who's that with you?"
"Percival Dumbledore," Alistair explained, for what seemed like the fiftieth time. "He's the reason for the extra bed. He's a new student. Look, we'll explain it all tonight when everyone's here – it saves us the trouble of explaining it over and over again."
Gilbert shrugged. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Percival," he said. "I hope you like Hogwarts. I'm Gilbert Prewett, by the way."
"Nice to meet you too," Percival replied, feeling slightly optimistic. Every student he had met so far had been friendly to him. "I do like Hogwarts. It is very hard to get around, though."
"You'll get used to it," Gilbert assured him, then glanced down at his pocket watch. "Blimey, is it time for supper already? Good, I'm famished. Let's go!"
They joined the throng of students heading down to the Great Hall for supper. Alistair and Gilbert were talking about their Christmas and what classes they had the next day, so Percival tried to take in his surroundings and start forming a mental map of the school.
They were interrupted by a slender blonde girl who looked very well pleased with herself gliding up beside them. "Who's this Muggle you've got with you, Ollivander?" she smirked. "My, aren't we lowering our standards just a bit?"
"I'm right here, you know," Percival shot back at her. "You could talk to me instead of pretending I can't hear you."
She arched her eyebrows and stuck her chin up. "I do not speak to Muggles," she sneered, and then laughed and sauntered off to go stand with a group of her friends.
"Who on earth was that?" Percival asked, glaring after her.
"Elmira Malfoy," Alistair replied. "Dominic's good-for-nothing twin sister. She's in Slytherin. Evil, all of them."
"Dominic?" Percival said, perplexed. "The one who gave us the password to get into the common room? But he's in Gryffindor, shouldn't his sister be in the same house as he is?"
"Not necessarily," Gilbert piped up. "Dominic's older brother was in Slytherin as well. Malfoys are always in Slytherin. The lot of them had a fit when Dominic got put in Gryffindor. Sometimes siblings do all get put in the same house – sometimes they don't.
They entered the Great Hall, and once again Percival was taken aback by the grand oddness of the place. The Hall was enormous and ornate, with four long tables for the students and one for the teachers at the head of the room. Percival glanced up. "There's no ceiling," he remarked.
"Yes there is," Alistair replied, as they walked toward the Gryffindor table. "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside." Currently is was a dark, satiny grey, and snowing.
After supper, everyone returned to the common room. They were all in high spirits as the holidays were over and they were reunited with their friends, but classes had not yet begun. Percival, Alistair, and Catherine sat by the fire, and attracted quite a crowd as Percival began his explanation of how and why he had come to Hogwarts.
"And the Headmaster told me that if I passed all of my O.W.L.s next year, I could stay on as a student," he finished finally.
"Leave it to old Phineas to think up something ridiculous like that," remarked Dominic, who was sitting in a chair nearby. "I'm surprised he let you in at all. He hates Muggleborns, everyone knows it."
"That's right," said Michael, who was idly transfiguring a candle stub into a rock and back again. "I'm glad you've come to the school. Everyone in our year is pureblood. Everyone."
"His son is in my year," Catherine said, making a face, "and he's terrible. Cassius Black. He lit my hair on fire on the second day of school and told the teachers he couldn't tell the difference because it looked burnt anyway." Alistair guffawed.
Percival wondered if he ought to tell them about Phineas Nigellus and his cousin, but he opted not to. He was not exactly comfortable relating his family secrets (whether they were in the London papers or not) to a group of twenty people, most of whom he had never met before that day, and did not fancy starting a deprecatory rumour about the Headmaster that could be traced back to him.
The discussion soon turned to which subjects Percival should concentrate on for his O.W.L.s. "You've got to take the core subjects," Dominic told him, "so Charms, Astronomy, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, and History of Magic. Then you can choose two others: Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Divination - "
"DON'T take Divination," Catherine said suddenly. She looked disgruntled.
"Why not?" Percival blinked.
"Cassandra Trelawney teaches it. She's horrible."
"But she's famous!" someone in the group exclaimed. "The most celebrated seer of the century! All of her predictions come true!"
"Yes," said Alistair, slamming the book he had been holding shut. Several people jumped. "Thank you ever so much for reminding us. Percival, don't take Divination if you can help it. The less you see of that woman, the better."
"I – well – all right, then," Percival said, bemused. The conversation soon turned to other things. Percival realised that he felt exhausted.
"I'm going to bed," Gilbert announced, yawning hugely.
"Me too," said Percival, standing up. He would worry about which subjects to study the next day. For now, all he wanted to do was sleep. He followed Gilbert up the stairs and into the dormitory.
"Have you any idea why Alistair and Catherine hate this Trelawney woman so much?" Percival asked as they changed into their night-clothes.
"It's because of their parents, I suppose," Gilbert replied. "And when you think about it, you can hardly blame them..."
"Their parents?" Percival paused. "Why? What does she have to do with their parents?"
Gilbert looked up at him, astonished. "You don't know? Oh – well – I don't think I should tell you, then. I wouldn't want them to be angry with me. I'm sure they'll tell you eventually, though. You are their friend. Well, goodnight!" He got into bed and pulled the curtains around his four poster shut.
Percival got into his own bed, and stared up at the canopy. He wondered what had happened between Cassandra Trelawney and Alistair and Catherine's parents that Gilbert did not see fit to tell him. He could not speculate, however. His eyes were too heavy to stay open any longer. The last thing he thought of before he fell asleep was that he was finally where he belonged.