Chapter 11: Status

Harry sat down on a chair that was different from the one he normally sat in with Dumbledore. He wasn't exactly nervous to be there, in front of Phineas Nigellus Black, since he was one of Dumbledore's most trusted portraits, but it was strange to see him.

The Headmaster stood over him, pacing back and forth behind his desk. He hadn't realized that Professor Black was quite tall, taller than Sirius was. Harry shifted his gaze to look up at all the portraits. They didn't even attempt to sleep. He was sure they were as curious as he was.

"Mr. Potter," he said, stopping right in front of his chair and sitting down, watching Harry with cool eyes. "You seem to be doing well with Professor Merrythought."

"Yes, sir."

He studied him for a second longer. "I never got a chance to speak to you properly when you came with her here a few weeks ago. I wanted to, but Dumbledore burst in here so improperly. I would have asked you to meet with me sooner, but I was busy with Ministry business, you see." He paused for a second. Harry wondered if Phineas Nigellus was trying to prove something to him with the Ministry, that he was more powerful and older than Harry or something like that. "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

"About myself, sir?" Harry asked. He didn't know what to say, or even if he should say anything.

"Yes, about your training. You seem proficient in Defense."

"My training?" Harry thought hard for a second. He couldn't tell Phineas Nigellus that he was taught at Hogwarts. Hadn't he told Aberforth something? "I was home-schooled," he said abruptly when he remembered.

"Were you?" Phineas Nigellus said, his eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, my parents taught me everything."

He stared at him for another short amount of time. "You didn't go to a Wizarding school?"

"No, sir." He hoped Phineas Nigellus wasn't able to detect lies.

Phineas Nigellus moved his lips as if scolding someone, but no sound came out. Harry tilted his head in confusion, wondering what he was doing. Slowly, he stood up again and paced.

"Who are your parents?" Phineas Nigellus asked as if he just wondered, but Harry could hear a minute amount of venom in his voice as if waiting patiently to strike, and that reminded him of someone he hated.

"James and Lily Potter," Harry said. "They're both Muggle-born, before you ask."

"Why would you think I would ask that?" Phineas Nigellus asked, feigning surprise, but the Blacks were notorious for blood lust. Of course he would ask at some point.

"I don't know. It just seems like this school is all about Blood Status." Harry paused, feeling his anger growing. The more he watched Phineas Nigellus, the more he could see Bellatrix in him, rather than Sirius. He hadn't realized it before with the portrait, but seeing him in real life, standing, walking, and breathing caused him to realize who exactly he was talking to. He was talking to the real man, not an imitation.

"You know what I heard the other day?" Harry said. "I heard two first years, first years! insulting each other because one was a Muggle-born while the other one was pure. How is it that these kids are being taught to be prejudice at eleven years old? That poor girl was crying and the other one was laughing when he left her. Why is it so hard to accept each other? Why can't everyone feel equal?"

Phineas Nigellus mouth dropped open, appalled. "Mr. Potter, are you telling me how to run my school?"

It seemed absurd to Harry that anyone other than Dumbledore would call Hogwarts "my school." "No, that's just something I saw," he said. "But, I am saying that my parents, blood status, and abilities don't matter as much to me than if a kid has learned something from me. I got an Outstanding on my Defense Against in the Dark Arts O.W.L., and I'm sure if I took the N.E.W.T.s I would have the same grade in Defense, but I've learned more about the Wizarding world through watching how people have chosen to act in bad situations than I have in books.

"I just have to say that I don't understand why you've asked me to come talk to you. I've been doing what you hired me to do, which is help Professor Merrythought with her classes."

Phineas Nigellus seemed to be at a loss for words. He obviously didn't expect Harry to go off, but he did ask Harry to tell him about himself. That was plenty and Black didn't need to know much else.

The Headmaster returned to his seat, his eyes darker than before. "I underestimated you, Mr. Potter."

"How, sir?" Harry asked, glancing up at the portraits. The space where Phineas Nigellus's hung was empty and that seemed incredibly strange to him.

"You spoke needlessly about Blood status when I hadn't asked."

"I'm sorry, sir. I was only telling you about myself."

He continued to peer at him. "You say you haven't taken your N.E.W.T.s?"

"No, sir," Harry confirmed.

"Why not?"

"My parents died last year," Harry said, thinking quickly. "I never got to finish school."

"I'm sorry to hear that you lost them," though he didn't sound very sorry at all, especially when he went on to say: "You do realize that you're very lucky to have a job here, then? I should have looked more into you, but Dumbledore-" He stopped as if realizing he said the wrong thing. "Well, Professor Merrythought believed you efficient. I trust her judgment. It will be very hard to get a job elsewhere without a complete education."

"I know, sir."

"We're too far along in the semester to allow you to join, but if you do private studies, I don't see a problem with letting you do the N.E.W.T., even if you don't, in fact, respect me and my opinions like these children at the school never seem to do."

Harry hadn't been expecting that at all, about the N.E.. What he did expect was him to go off about kids not respecting. But, maybe Phineas Nigellus was more like Sirius than he thought, rather than the psychopath Bellatrix. Yet, still he doubted taking the N.E.W.T.s a hundred years before he should have taken them would really count. He was already a full Auror. The Ministry at that point needed Aurors too quickly to train him properly, and he guessed offing Voldemort gave them reason to believe he was good enough.

"I don't know about the N.E.W.T.s," Harry said. "But I do respect you."

"Think about it," he said, though his eyes narrowed again. "Children at this school never respect their elders. They think they're more intelligent; they know everything. But, no matter. Do you have anything else you believe in that you would like to tell me?"

Not to you, thought Harry. "No, sir."

"Then you may go. Thank you for your time."

Harry nodded and stood. "Thank you, sir."

As he left, he heard a portrait say, "Well, he's definitely outspoken." Harry only shook his head and made his way down the spiral staircase to go to breakfast.

It really wasn't that hard for Harry to believe what Sirius said three years before, how Phineas Nigellus was the least popular Headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen. But, Harry though, what if he had only gone off about how little respect kids had for adults because Harry had gone off on how much he hated Blood status? It was a possibility. Phineas wasn't stupid and Harry was sure that he would revenge him in some way if someone disrespected him. Sirius would have done the same.

In the Great Hall, Harry peered down the Gryffindor table, but the one person he wanted to talk to wasn't there. He guessed Albus was just having a slow day, maybe. Aberforth wasn't down yet, either, so, instead, he went up to Atticus Potter, who was once again sitting alone with his owl.

"Do you mind?" Harry asked.

Atticus jerked his head up, and when he saw who was there, he nodded slowly, his eyes wide. Harry sat down and reached over to pet Harold.

"He likes the crook of his wings to get scratched," Atticus said, lifting his hand up to show him. The bird cooed and then closed its eyes, fluffing his wings out. Harry smiled, thinking of Hedwig. He missed her. He liked his new owl Ariana a lot; she was nice to have around, but Harry doubted he'd ever forget Hedwig. She'd been his companion longer than anyone.

"Why have you been here alone for last couple days?" Harry asked as he scratched the owl's wings. He knew Atticus had a couple since they always talked during spell practice in class.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, yesterday my friends had to stay after class to talk to Professor Glumage, but usually I have lunch with them. Today I just got ready earlier than them. They're coming down."

"That's good," Harry said, reaching around to Harold's other wing, closet to Atticus.

He tilted his head, studying something- Harry's hand. "Why does your hand say, 'I must not tell lies'?"

Harry's heart jumped. He'd forgotten about that scar. "That's kind of hard to explain," Harry said, glancing at it. It was fading some anyway. Two years ago when he showed his hand to Rufus Scrimgeour, it was still bright red, but now it was just white, noticeable but not overly noticeable.

"Sorry, sir," Atticus said.

"It's all right. You can ask me anything, but my scars are hard to talk about."

"Do you mean like the one on your forehead, too?" he asked, only curiously.

"Yeah, especially that one," Harry said darkly.

Atticus looked away from it, as if he realized he had been staring.

Harry ate a piece of toast and turned his attention to the doors of the Hall, waiting for the Dumbledores to come down. Really, he only wanted to talk to Albus, but Aberforth, he was something. Harry would never tell him what happened with Phineas Nigellus, but it was probably more appropriate to talk to him rather than a thirteen year old who had the same last name as him. He really shouldn't have been talking to Atticus because of that. People had to believe they weren't related and talking to him wasn't helping anything.

"Can I ask you if you played Quidditch?" Atticus asked, bringing Harry's mind back to who really was in front of him.

Harry almost said, "Yeah," but then realized what he had told Phineas Nigellus. He couldn't have played Quidditch being home-schooled. "No, but I do like it. Do you play?"

He nodded, "The Seeker was the only position open this year. The last Seeker, he was the youngest player in a long time and he started in his first year. He's playing for the Holyhead Harpies now. But I was only asking if you played because you have the same build as him."

"I've never played. You're seeker, then?" Harry said.

Atticus and Harry continued to talk about Quidditch until his friends entered the hall, laughing about something. Harry stood, said, "I should go. See you later."

Harry made his way down the Great Hall, all the while searching for Dumbledore at the Gryffindor table again. It was pointless, really, because he didn't see him at all.

"Harry."

He jumped at his name being said and there was Dumbledore, right in front of him.

"Dumbledore," Harry said, but immediately, Harry noticed something was off with his facial expression. Before he could say anything, someone behind Dumbledore said, "Excuse me," in a rude manner. Harry recognized a sixth year Slytherin boy behind him, sneering at him.

Dumbledore turned to look at him. "Oh, excuse me, Patterson," he said in a less kind tone than what he would have used in his old age. "I am Head Boy, you realize."

Patterson's sneer dropped, stepping back slightly, and then he said, "Merlin, Dumbledore, I was just asking if I could get by since you stopped right in the middle of the walkway."

"Well, you didn't have to say it so rudely."

Patterson's sneer returned. "Then, excuse me, Mr. Head Boy. May I please step past you?"

"You may," he said coolly.

Patterson shook his head as he walked away toward the Slytherin table, glancing back with a confused look on his face.

Harry, taken aback, said, "Are you okay?" to him.

"Of course," Albus said off handedly, starting to walk again.

Harry didn't believe him and, instead, "Can I, er, talk to you? Away from the Great Hall?"

Harry led Albus out into the Entrance Hall and down the steps to the dungeons, only because Harry knew no one would be down in the dungeons so early in the morning except the Slytherins. At the first classroom door in the dungeons, Harry stopped and opened the door, and then he turned around to face him. He thought about casting the Muffiliato charm, but he doubted it would really be necessary.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"What was what?"

Harry never imagined Albus to act dumb. "With Patterson. You're rarely angry."

Albus stared down at Harry for a long time. Harry just waited, hoping he would say something, but it soon became clear that he wouldn't say what was wrong. Harry wondered what it was. Something with a teacher? He could remember countless times where he was angry with Snape or, even worse, Umbridge. He really couldn't be sure, especially so early in the morning.

"Okay," Harry said when too much time had gone by. "Well, Professor Black stopped me today."

Finally, though Harry could tell he was still angry, his facial expression changed to more or less shock. "Wait, was he asking about your family and schooling?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" he asked suspiciously.

"He was trying to get me to tell him," he muttered.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him you weren't related to Cadmus Potter. I don't think he believed me. Nor did he seem to think it plausible that you went to Durmstrang."

Harry groaned and backed up to lean against the desk, rubbing his scar as if it was paining him even though it hadn't since May when he finally killed off Voldemort. "I told him I was homeschooled."

Dumbledore cursed, shocking Harry again. That was one thing Harry didn't think was possible coming from Dumbledore of all people. Albus began to pace for a second, back and forth down a row of desk, running a hand across a small patch of beard that he only just noticed he had. "He'd believe you more than he would me," he muttered. His anger was beginning to fade as he paced. "It is your life. What else did you tell him?"

"I told him about how much I hate blood status."

"You said what to a Black?" he asked, stopping immediately, his eyes piercing Harry.

"Blood means everything to Phineas Nigellus and I don't think that's good for Hogwarts."

"Exactly, Harry! You don't lecture him about that! He thinks of nothing else but purity of the blood. Do you have any idea what he said to me when he talked to me two days ago? He said, 'Muggleborns at Durmstrang? If I had it my way-' Do you understand what he meant, Harry?"

"Yeah, of course I do," Harry said. "He'd rather have what Slytherin wanted for Hogwarts rather than what the other three founders did."

"Exactly. He doesn't care about equality. As long as he gets what he wants, he'll be happy. That is a destructive way of looking at the world, thinking only about what you want. When I become something, I'd do what is best for the Wizarding world."

Harry felt his eyebrows raise, noting he used 'when' instead of 'if.' It reminded Harry of how the older Dumbledore always mentioned that he was cleverer than most men, although he apologized for it. This time, however, he was so sure that he would become something. Something great because he knew he was more intelligent than everyone else. "Yeah?"

He nodded and sat up on top of the desk behind him, but he didn't elaborate. "What else did you say to him?"

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "I told him that I care more about experience than what I learn in a books. I didn't even take the N.E.W.T.s and I'm still an Auror. I mean, I didn't tell him I was an Auror. I can't remember exactly what I said."

Albus jerked his head to him. "How did you manage to become an Auror if you didn't take your tests?"

Harry rubbed his scar again. "I… er, well, I'd rather not say."

Dumbledore let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand over his short beard again.

"Why are you so angry right now?" Harry asked.

He shook his head and there was a short break as if he was debating whether or not to tell him. "My brother. Do you have any siblings, Harry?"

"No."

"Then you wouldn't understand. Aberforth can be infuriating." He stood up and began to pace again. "Last night he tried to hit me when I did nothing wrong. This morning was even worse. He was lurking in a corridor off the Gryffindor Tower and he tried to hex me! I don't understand what goes on in his head."

"I don't think he had a very good day yesterday," Harry said.

"Of course he didn't," Albus said. "He tried to ask Alice Hornby if she would go to Hogsmeade with him. She turned him down, of course. I don't know why he bothers. There are more important problems than girls."

"Is that what he did?" Harry asked. He finally understood why the drawing of the girl in Aberforth's journal was so familiar. He'd just seen her twenty minutes before. "He wouldn't tell me."

Albus shrugged, standing still right next to Harry. "He's very stubborn."

"I noticed."

"You're very stubborn, too, you realize. You refuse to tell me anything about yourself." Albus's anger seemed to have faded completely, once he told Harry why he had been mad, and now he just seemed tired.

Harry wasn't sure what to say about that. "I can't say anything," he finally decided on. "If you knew anything, then, well, the future wouldn't be the same."

"You do you know when you say that, it just makes me even more curious."

"Yeah, I know."

"The curiosity leads me to believe that you're important to the future… I can't believe you haven't taken your N.E.W.T.s. What did Professor Black say to that?"

"He said I could take them if I wanted to, but I don't think-"

"You should," he said. "They're important."

"Will they honestly be good for me to take now? I mean, the time stamp will say 1898. I'm from 1998. How will that help me?"

"Well, are you friendly with the Minister?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the friendly ex-Auror ran through Harry's head. "Yeah- Wait, you're trying to get information out of me!"

He smiled kindly, though his eyes twinkled with something like mischief than kindness like usual. "No, I was just asking. If you are, then you could always go to him and explain the situation if you trust him enough."

Harry refused to say anything about that, though in his head he debated that. Kingsley Shacklebolt was trustworthy, very trustworthy. He was part of the Order and a friend of Dumbledore. He might think Harry mad at first, but if anyone would believe him, it would be Kinsgley.

Albus reached into his pocket for a watch. "I'd better go. Class starts in five minutes."

"Right. Me too," Harry said, pushing off the desk to stand straight. At least he'd gotten to talk to him for a few minutes, to talk about what Phineas had said. He was sure if Dumbledore hadn't been there, then Harry would have gone mad without having someone trustworthy to talk to. Well, he guessed he could have talked to Merrythought, but if it weren't for Dumbledore, then he wouldn't have known her.

They began out of the classroom and up to the Entrance Hall.

They departed then, Albus going toward the Great Hall, but before they were too far away, Albus said, "Oh, and Harry? I apologize about my behavior this morning. It was completely inappropriate."

"Maybe you should apologize to Patterson instead of me," he responded.

Albus only shook his head and waved Harry off.

But as Albus and Harry went on with their day, down in the dungeons, one figure was standing, white-faced behind a door of the boys' bathroom.

A/N: Please don't kill me for making Dumbledore angry in this chapter. He can have bad days, too, you know?

But, yeah, this is shorter than normal. I wanted it longer, but that was a good place to stop, I think.

There will be a new perspective next chapter. Can you guess whose?