"So how did you get here?" a voice asked in the darkness.
There was no answer.
"I'll start: I was running to Charm, a piece of toast in my mouth, when I ran into the Headmaster. Like, I literally crashed into him. I apologized of course and I swore it was an accident but he didn't care and told me running and eating in the corridors was forbidden. So here I am. What about you?"
For a long time there was no answer. Finally, a male voice grunted, "I… tried to curse the Headmaster."
A squeak. "You what? Ho-How could you-"
"He was using that foul word!" Aberforth hotly fought back. "Like, I only noticed it was him afterward but even so! Nobody, nobody, should say that word!"
"Still, he's- well, he's Headmaster Black! And- and you shouldn't curse people."
"Listen, girlie. If I've got to end up hanging in the dungeons, I prefer it to be because I did something stupid like cursing a bastard like him. At least I deserve it."
Harry gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the burning pain in his arms.
When Phineas Nigellus Black had all but shoved him in the dungeons, he had thought he was ready for anything. That was of course before the man had levitated him and chains from the ceiling had curled around his wrists before turning into shackles.
He had thought this was a joke, but the sight of the two other people hanging near him had made it clear it most definitely was not.
The old punishments, Harry now knew, hadn't always been old.
Harry only stopped brooding when he heard Aberforth saying, "What about you, Potter? How did you get here?" Aberforth asked.
Harry sighed and began his tale. Once he was done, he heard a whistle.
"Wish I could have seen Black's face," Aberforth said. "He must have been pretty pissed."
"Livid. I even thought he was going to kick me out of school for a second."
"Nah. You owe him money and he can't get it if you leave, can he? He needs you to be somewhere where he can keep an eye on you."
Harry hadn't seen it this way.
"Still, why would you ask the school for money? Like, you go to school and basically ask them to pay you for studying here? Who does that?"
Harry tried to shrug and hissed in pain. "Bloody hell."
"It gets better," Harry heard Aberforth saying. "After thirty minutes, you stop feeling anything and it even starts feeling nice after two hours."
"And don't worry too much. After the first thirty minutes, you stop feeling anything and it becomes even relaxing past the second hour."
Harry loudly swore.
"What?" the girl who was also trapped with them said. "What's-What's wrong?"
"He knew!"
"What? W-Who did?"
"Mesmer. He-He knew I was going to be stuck here!"
"Who is Mesmer?"
"Our Divination Professor," Aberforth answered. "A very suspicious person if you want my opinion. The way he looks at you… Pity he didn't tell you how to avoid that 'fate', eh Potter?"
When Harry and Aberforth finally entered the Common Room the next morning, exhausted, Albus was waiting for them, arms crossed.
"I suppose I don't need to ask where the two of you were last night, do I?" he rhetorically asked.
Aberforth mumbled something.
Albus decided it was supposed to mean 'I did something stupid but I would rather die than admit it. Also, I'm tired and I haven't slept so wink so don't push it.'
Albus sighed. "Give me your hands. I'll see what I can do about it."
It was a testament of how tired he was that Aberforth obeyed him without protesting. When Albus looked at his brother's hands, he couldn't stop a wince at the sight of the blood and purple bruises.
Before going to Hogwarts, the two brothers had never had to endure corporal punishments. For how scary their father could have looked whenever he was angry, the man had never laid a hand or used magic on them. It served nothing, he used to say. And maybe Percival Dumbledore had forgotten his own words when he had decided to get 'justice' to the muggles who had hurt his daughter, Albus was proved again and again just how true these words were. And seeing Aberforth or anybody in pain hurt him as much as if he had been the one hit.
"Please stop getting yourself into these situations, Aberforth. I beg you."
His brother sharply raised his head to look at him and, for a moment, Albus thought he was going to argue, to be difficult just because he wanted to appear tougher than he was.
But Aberforth looked away. And it was only when Albus tapped his wand and the bruises and cuts began fading that he murmured, "You do realize it's nigh impossible not to end up down there when Black is mad, don't you?"
"Headmaster Black," Albus absentmindedly corrected. "And yes, I'm aware. Still, we shouldn't make it easier for him, don't you think?"
Aberforth put his now healed hands in his pockets and mumbled, "At least I deserve it, then."
Albus sighed. Not for the first time he thought that, far from stopping his brother from misbehaving, the whole situation was driving him to misbehave even more .
There was nothing that could be done unfortunately. So he said nothing when Aberforth left to grab his bag and go to class.
Glancing at Harry's hands, he said, "Come here." Taking the other boy's left hand in his, he looked at the purple bruises and after a grimace softly tapped the hand with his wand.
"You said it was going to take a minute," he murmured as the bruises slowly started to fade.
Harry who had stayed silent until then softly shrugged. "We had a little disagreement, the Headmaster and I."
When the hand was finally healed, Albus couldn't help caressing with his thumb the scar on the hand saying 'I must not tell lies'.
Albus wondered for a second whether or not the wizard had been really lying when he received this scar. The next second he shook his head.
Did it truly matter? Even if Harry had been lying, nobody deserved to receive this sort of punishment.
When he raised his head, Harry was looking away, his cheeks tinted pink.
Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he dropped his hands and coughed. "W-We should hurry if we don't want to miss breakfast. We're late already and I'm sure you're starving."
Harry mutely nodded.
As it turned out, the first class of the day happened to be Divination.
Checking his timetable again, Harry couldn't stop a tired sigh from leaving his lips at the realization he had Divination practically every day and that it was always early in the morning or late in the evening.
On the bright side, that meant he could ask why Professor Mesmer hadn't considered it was important to warn him of what was going to happen and had instead decided to just make a veiled allusion.
"Morning Potter," Phineas Black greeted him when he sat next to him in the Divination classroom. "How was detention?"
Harry who had been putting his bag on the table turned his head. "How do you know I was in detention?"
Black shrugged and pretended to read the book Mesmer's lent them.
That's when he knew. "You knew I going to have detention too?" he exclaimed, his exhaustion suddenly forgotten.
The boy smirked though he didn't raise his head. "Well, that was obvious, wasn't it?"
Harry spluttered. "And you didn't- You did nothing? Wh-Why didn't you-"
"Mister Black here is following an old tradition of Slytherin's House," a voice whispered in his ear.
Harry startled and turned around.
"And this tradition is watching at the safe distance Gryffindors doing something stupid and laughing ourselves sick at the spectacle they give us," Professor Mesmer cheerfully finished. "Good morning class. How are you?" Not waiting for an answer, the man said, "Now, Mister Potter. What did you do to make Professor Black so angry?"
Harry glared at the two wizards. "Couldn't you warn me this was going to happen?"
"Why would we? We're Slytherins, not Ravenclaws. Also, that was obvious, wasn't it? From what little I know, Dippet gave you money one year ago and Professor Black wanted you to pay the school back. As Mr. Black and I know what sort of man he is, we knew he was going to ask for interest. As we also know you, we were more than aware you wouldn't consider that possibility." He shrugged. "It wasn't that hard to deduce from that that you were going to do something harsh. And if you had been unable to see it, maybe you should revise your lessons, Mr. Potter."
Harry already had a headache.
"The same way, I'm assuming a rash man like you haven't even considered asking him what the interest rate is going to be."
"Interest rate?"
He nodded. "As you haven't asked for it and you've angered him, Professor Black might have just decided to change it. So please tell the class, what exactly did you do ?"
Black finally stopped pretending he was reading and gave Harry an interested look.
Feeling the two weren't going to stop staring until he answered, Harry sighed. "I talked back to the Headmaster."
"Yes, I doubt you would have cursed him, but what did you say exactly?"
When Harry told them, the two Slytherin drew back.
After a few seconds, Phineas whispered, "How are you still alive?"
"Assume it's 100% then," Professor Mesmer said.
Harry flinched.
It was so unfair, he couldn't help thinking. First the man had never mentioned interests, and now he was supposed to find one galleon because he had dared protesting?
"Also, I recommend you to not make waves from now on. Professor Black has little patience and you've already tested it more than you should have.".
Harry tightened his fists and gritted his teeth.
"I can attempt to calm him down but I'm making no promise. Also I want that memory. Give it to me."
He sharply raised his head, "What?" he numbly asked.
"Well, Professor Black's face must have been quite a sight," the older man remarked with a shrug. "I would have brought you to him to witness this trainwreck in person but unlike some I do have some preservation instincts. So yes, a memory of the event will do."
Harry spluttered. "Wh-Wh-Why would I do that?"
"Ah yes," he murmured, and closed his eyes a moment. Finally, he nodded and looked at them. "Well then, Mr. Black, please bribe Mr. Potter."
And under Harry's incredulous eyes, Phineas Black replied, "I want fifty points."
"You're dreaming there, Mister Black. I can do ten but don't push it.
"Forty."
"Twenty."
"Thirty and I watch it with you."
"Deal. I'll show Mr. Potter how to extract memories and I'll let you negotiate the price between yourselves."
It took a few seconds for Harry to remember how to speak. "What makes you think I'm going to agree to this?"
Professor Mesmer pretended to be surprised. "Oh, don't you know? I've heard you owed Hogwarts money."
"Oh, don't make that face," Phineas Black said when they finally left Divination.
Harry ignored him and walked faster to his next class.
"Come on, Potter. Stop acting like a kicked Puffskein. I lost five sickles there. Five. Had I truly wanted to, I'm pretty sure I could have had that memory for three."
"I don't want your pity."
In fact, Harry had no intention to use these five sickles to pay that debt in the slightest. He would rather die than do it, in fact.
The Slytherin rolled his eyes. "What would you have wanted me to do? Tell you 'Oh Potter, please don't talk back to my father?' I'm sure that would have worked well."
"You could have told me about these interests," he hissed. "You could have warned me this was going to happen."
Harry had never thought he and the Slytherin were the best of friends. Yet, he had somehow started to think that suffering these Divination classes together had made them at the very least friendly acquaintances. And friends were supposed to watch each other's back. Something Black most certainly hadn't done .
"I'm not your mother, Potter. Neither Professor Mesmer nor I should take your hand and tell you something as basic as asking my father more informations on what is expected from you."
"In fact," he continued, "I'm pretty sure there wouldn't have been 'interest' had you actually sought my father and even things out with him as soon as possible. He is making you pay treating this whole thing as unimportant for an entire year. So talking back and acting like a spoiled brat like you are right now? That's exactly what made him decide to do this."
"So what?" Harry angrily fought back. "I deserved it now? Is that really what you think? I deserved to be hung like some dirty underwears because I dared to protest?"
"Maybe you did, yes," Black hotly answered.
That stopped Harry dead in his tracks.
For a long time, Harry couldn't understand how an otherwise alright bloke like Phineas Black could have said that. Surely, he was not the cruel kind, right? So how on earth could he think this was alright?
"If you want my opinion on this, you even got off lightly," the Slytherin continued. "A night in the dungeons? He could have expelled you, or you could have stayed there a whole week so you should be grateful this was just that. Because next time you step out of the line? He's going to kick you out this time, mark my words."
And Harry finally understood.
The old punishments were cruel to Harry, but to the people here they were just punishments. To them, they were not that different to them than writing lines or scrubbing dirty cauldrons. Getting caned, being hanged on the ceiling until you could barely breathe for the slightest misbehaviour… To them, this was completely normal.
"Black," Harry carefully said, "you don't actually think he did this to teach me a lesson, do you?" Seeing the other boy's surprised face, he tried to find the correct words. "The shackles, hanging me to the ceiling, the interests… This," he added as he raised his hand to show him his scar. "None of that was done to 'teach me' anything."
Black rolled his eyes. "Oh really. Then why do you think my father punished you?"
"To feel powerful."
Umbridge had forced him to cut his own hand because she wanted to see him in pain, because she was a bitch who enjoyed making people suffer. Phineas Nigellus Black had sent him to the dungeons because he hadn't been able to accept the fact that somebody would call him out his bullshit.
Maybe Harry should have sought the man and asked him more about how he was expected to pay the school back, but the way he was seeing it, Phineas Nigellus Black wasn't blameless either. He had forced a student to pay back money said student at that time had rightfully gotten, and he hadn't told him what he expected from him. He hadn't told Harry what he wanted, nor had he spoken about interest rates at any time. So why should he expect Harry to fulfill this part of the bargain? Black said Harry had had a year to even this out, but Phineas Nigellus Black also had a year and he was the adult who should have known how this worked.
So why should it be Harry the guilty one? Who was really the one in the wrong?
Black sighed. "Believe me, Potter, my father does not need to punish you to feel powerful. So perhaps you should try to remember your place for once."
Harry perfectly knew where his place was, and it wasn't on the floor licking Phineas Nigellus Black's boots. And he didn't care care if the man wanted to lock him in the dungeons for a century afterward, Harry wasn't going to let him get away with it.
"You and Mesmer still should have warned me," he said.
At these words, Black rolled his eyes. "And why should we exactly? We're not your mum, Potter. Were you really expecting us to heal your boo-boos after doing something that stupid? Get real."
Harry suddenly thought of Albus healing his hands. He remembered his pained face when he had seen them and how softly heds taken them, as if he hadn't wanted to make it worse. He remembered how he had caressed the scar Umbridge had forced him to crave.
He hadn't asked Harry whether or not he had been lying to deserve this scar. He hadn't asked Harry what he had done to deserve his punishment either. Albus Dumbledore had just taken his wand and done his best to make the pain stop.
Why couldn't Black see what Albus had seen so clearly?
