Portrait Between the Pages
The Unscratchable Itch

"What do you think he meant by that?" Ginny asked in the morning as they headed downstairs to breakfast with Hermione. Gone was the lighthearted side Ginny had used the night before, possibly in hopes of not alerting Lavender to what was really going on or perhaps to make getting a night's sleep easier for herself. Hermione wasn't sure which, or if both.

"You mean the thing he doesn't want us mentioning?" Hermione asked.

"He said," Ginny started to say before looking around and lowering her voice. "He said something about him making more than one."

"I know," Hermione said. "I've been thinking I should speak to Dumbledore, but I also don't want to worry Harry about what I've found."

"But Harry will want to know," Ginny said.

"Let's eat," Hermione said. "And try to occupy our minds with other things." She heard Ginny sigh, knowing full well Ginny's past with Tom Riddle's diary—Tom Riddle being Lord Voldemort's younger self—was getting to the younger teen. "You'll be fine."

"Thanks," Ginny said. "I know."

They sat down and started eating, and yet Hermione's mind remained occupied by what she'd learned from Regulus, along with the need to tell Dumbledore what she learned, although she also felt that she was betraying Regulus. Which was odd, given Regulus wasn't the real Regulus, simply a portrait and a portrait of a known Death Eater. Yet—

"He didn't like finding out Voldemort had created a second Horcrux," Hermione thought.

"So, Ginny?" Ron said, clearing his voice and making Hermione glance at him before turning to Ron's younger sister. Their older twin brothers also looked up, slowly chewing their food.

"Yes."

"I want to say I'm sorry. For yesterday," Ron said.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, though, am I?" Ginny said, continuing to eat while remaining cold. Fred and George looked at each other, eyebrows lifting as they wondered what was happening with the youngest Weasley siblings.

"Excuse me?" Ron said, his voice cracking. "Who? Hermione and Harry? Already apologized. Right?"

Harry nodded, and Ginny looked up before saying, "We're not the ones you threatened to throw on the fire, are we?"

Ron stared, his mouth opened wide. "You want me to apologize to…."

Harry quickly elbowed Ron in the ribs, indicating he shouldn't say anything more, particularly since Umbridge had taken notice of their conversation and headed over, likely hoping to catch something she could report back to Fudge with, given the Ministry of Magic's educational decree that placed her in the position of High Inquisitor. And she stared, making everyone look at their plates but Fred and George, who looked right at each other.

And then, their hands shot up.

"Yes?"

"Do you ever eat?" Fred said.

"You should eat," George said.

"Not healthy to do so."

"Our mum would skin us alive if we didn't eat properly."

Umbridge stared, obviously taken aback by what they had just said. "None of your worries, but I'll simply have one of the House Elves bring me something later."

"House Elves," Hermione muttered. Her mouth opened to say something about Umbridge abusing her position to make the House Elves do extra work so that she could snoop on the students when she felt a light kick under the table. Harry shook his head, indicating she should say nothing, but then he'd already had more than one detention with Umbridge, and her tactic of making students write lines with a blood quill was far from delightful.

"No," Fred and George said simultaneously for some strange reason.

After breakfast, Hermione stood up, wondering what she should say to Dumbledore when Harry said, "I want to check out the trophy room. Care to join me?"

She paused momentarily, then realized Harry's reason might tie into her finding Regulus' diary. Ron shrugged his shoulders while Ginny sent her brother a rather dirty look right before all three followed Harry to the trophy room. When they arrived, Hermione asked, "What are you looking for?"

"He said he played Quidditch," Harry said, heading straight for the Quidditch trophies. "I'm hoping to find something."

"Yes, but what years would he have played," Hermione asked as they approached the trophy case used for any trophies related to Quidditch.

"I don't know," Harry said, sighing. "I mean, I don't know the years my dad played, let alone when he attended school."

"I've been thinking," Hermione started to say when Ginny pointed out something.

"Found it!"

"What?" Ron said. "That was fast."

Hermione walked over to where Ginny pointed, her jaw quickly dropping. "A memorial plaque. It says," only for her to stop speaking as her head already did the math. "Oh. That's—"

Ron leaned over, his nose wrinkling as he looked at the plague. "Why would they have a memorial plaque for him? Surely they knew he was a Death Eater?"

"What are you doing?"

The sound of the deputy headmistress made all for jump, turning to look at McGonagall, who was also the head of her house. She walked over to see what we were looking at but then startled, her eyes blinking right before she pushed her cat eyeglasses up. Hermione frowned. "Is there something the matter, Professor McGonagall?"

"We don't talk about Mr. Black here," she said.

"Because he was a Death Eater?" Harry asked.

McGonagall turned, glancing at the trophy room door, keeping her voice low, likely in case Umbridge overheard her. "How did you come to learn of Mr. Black?"

"Sirius mentioned his brother was dead," Harry said. "That he'd been a Death Eater."

"And I saw it on the tapestry," Ginny said. "But mum flew a gasket when the twins asked about him, which is when we found out he was one."

"It's not that," McGonagall started to say, then paused. "Wait? Sirius actually told you of his brother?"

"Yes. I gathered he hated him like the rest of that family of his," Harry said.

"Hated him?" McGonagall glanced back at the doorway before clearing her voice, speaking relatively loudly. "Of course, Mr. Black here is related to that Sirius Black, Mr. Potter. And it was well known to everyone, I think, except Mr. Black himself, that his older brother loved him dearly. It's speculated among many that the younger Black's death is what caused that notorious Sirius Black to finally succumb to the Black family madness, which in turn led him to betray your parents."

Harry's eyes went wide in horror before looking around in confusion, but Hermione felt just as horrified, knowing McGonagall knew the truth, but then—

She saw Umbridge walk passed the doorframe, looking rather pleased with herself as if she'd gotten the answer she wanted regarding what they were up to.

"I am so sorry, Potter, to have to be the one to tell you that," McGonagall said, lowering her voice so Umbridge couldn't hear. "There is more than a grain of truth to what I just said, Potter."

"What?" Harry said.

"It is true that your godfather went insane with grief, Mr. Potter, and that did, in fact, lead to your parent's death."

"No. That," Harry turned to look at the memorial. "That can't be right."

"No, that is correct," McGonagall said in a voice that could be heard in case Umbridge was still listening. "One standing theory is that Sirius Black blamed your parents for leading him away from the path his parents wanted, which in turn led to his younger brother joining instead." She then lowered her voice. "In reality, Sirius stopped trusting others—well, few others other than your parents, but he made the decision he did to trust Pettigrew instead of Lupin because he was paranoid about losing another brother. But don't tell him; I told you this particularly since this is conjecture on my part."

"So you don't really know," Ron said, looking at the trophy. "That Sirius actually cared for his brother."

"Oh, but I do," the deputy headmistress said. "Because I knew young Regulus Black. He could certainly spout the Pureblood rhetoric that mother of his filled his head with, but it was obvious he didn't understand what he was being told. Parroting, I believe, was the word Sirius often used when we talked about family matters and how the problems at home were the likely source for his behavior issues."

Harry looked at the dates, frowning. "Wait. I thought I was the youngest Seeker in a century—our previous Quidditch captain told us so, but it says here…."

"That you and Regulus share the same birthday," McGonagall said, not missing a beat. "Oliver Wood wasn't wrong in saying that, though, for a while, Regulus Black did hold the record of being the youngest in a century until you came along, whereas you played in the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin at the beginning of your school year, Regulus Black did not. And because of that, that was the only year while he was Seeker that we managed to win the Inter-House Quidditch Cup."

"So, he won the cup for Slytherin the other years?" Harry asked.

"No," McGonagall said, looking at the memorial plaque. "Quidditch ended up being canceled after students returned from the winter break."

"Why?" Harry asked.

McGonagall responded by pointing at January 4, 1979, the date indicating death on the memorial plaque. "Because his death had an impact on the entire school, Mr. Potter. He was that well-liked."

"Wait," Ron said. "He said he wasn't popular, that he liked…."

"Excuse me?"

Harry glanced over at Hermione, hoping she'd devise an excuse. She took a deep breath. "It's alright. I'd already planned on speaking with Dumbledore about it."

"I'll go as well, then," Harry said.

"No, Harry," Hermione said. "You have enough on your shoulders."

"Don't worry," Ginny said. "I can go with her. I mean, I already know from last night, right."

Hermione nodded and turned to McGonagall, the look of shock still on the deputy headmistress's face. "There's something I need to talk to the headmaster about, professor. I think it's important."