"Hedda died, Phineas. I thought you would like to know." Albus Dumbledore whispered softly in his office to the empty frame. He knew that simply calling out to him would not do, and Phineas had a tendency to ignore him, which is why he started directly with the news.
In fact, Hedda had died many days ago, with Albus himself in attendance to the funeral, however it was only this morning that the news had officially reached Britain. He did not need the Daily Prophet in order to relay the news, however he waited to do so as he approached the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black.
From a corner of the frame, Phineas appeared, arms crossed.
"Has she now? Old broad, she'd manage to outlive me for quite a few, then." he faked disinterest, yet craned his neck to look at the small headline, in the short-lived grumbles of the portrait of Dilys Derwent.
Former Durmstrang Institute Headmaster who expelled Gellert Grindelwald dies of old age
The article in itself was small, appearing to focus more on Grindelwald's legacy and the consequences of his expulsion, the reader being asked to imagine a future in which he would have remained at Durmstrang. There was a brief mention about her short career at Durmstrang, how a Triwizard Tournament almost happened during her time at the helm of the Institute, and after a short details on her funeral and who attended it, a note at the end, saying that not much else was known about her life.
Below the article were two pictures in black and white - one was a detail of a painting of a young woman with short, curly hair, and a surly look on her face as she held a scepter in her right hand, and an enormous tome in her other, balanced on her hip. Every now and then, she whipped her head to remove a curl from her eye, lifting the tome and balancing it better against her waist. The other picture was of an elderly woman, looking sternly ahead next to Igor Karkaroff, the current headmaster of Durmstrang. Old age had shortened and greyed her, however she looked as sharp as the first picture.
"That's how they used to frame all newly appointed Durmstrang Headmasters back then… With that book written by the founder, and the scepter she had." Phineas reminisced, a shadow of a smile appearing at the edge of his mouth.
"They did not mention anything about her tenure at Hogwarts, unfortunately." Dumbledore mused, before putting the article back onto his desk. He propped it against a stack of papers, having the two pictures face towards Phineas. "I didn't know there were talks of reinstating the Tournament… what happened with it, then?"
Phineas looked on towards the portraits, towards Hedda. He didn't need those pictures to remind him of her piercing eyes, all he had to do was close his eyes and he could picture them as if she were still in front of him. In a voice he hadn't used before in the presence of the current Headmaster, he grumbled "All of these years, who remembers now…"
He did remember, however. He knew all too well.
It was with that occasion that he had first met her. It was the Headmaster of Beauxbatons that first initiated the idea of reinstating the Triwizard Tournament, and he wanted to offer up Hogwarts as the grounds of it. Not only was it, historically, their turn as a host, but the publicity and glory that would bring, especially if one of his students, and especially if it was a Slytherin student that won it (and why wouldn't it have been?), would be unprecedented.
He had known the Headmaster of Beauxbatons for many years, a cheerful and boisterous old man by the name of Jules, with a demeanor that grated him each time they met, however, a brilliant wizard who advanced the fields of Potions throughout the 19th century. Compared to him, the Headmaster of Durmstrang before Hedda, was an elusive figure. He knew from the Beauxbatons Headmaster that he was a strange and reclusive man who 'fell' into the role due to some mysterious circumstances surrounding the Headmaster before him. However, that was nothing but normal over there, Jules assured him.
It was a few months after he had heard through the grapevine about the appointment of a new Headmistress at the Durmstrang Institute that Phineas received a letter from Jules, outlining his interactions with her, and the hopes of reinstating a Tournament, and how well-received it was by the Headmistress. Jules had written down that the following summer, he would come to London together with her, so they could iron out the details.
When the summer holidays for the students finally arrived, he received word from Jules regarding when they would be arriving. Phineas remembered his surprise when he finally met her, when the door opened and both Headmasters arrived together through the doors of the Leaky Cauldron.
Apart from their oddly matching, chin-length curly hair, Jules and Hedda could not be more unlike each other, and looked like a strange pair to have traveled together all the way from Transylvania. She was a tall and lanky woman, with angular features, who looked at him with inquisitive eyes from under a black, gold-threaded muslin headscarf.
"Phineas! How wonderful, you are already here! Wonderful, each time I come to this country, I'm telling you you! How's your wife, and the children? Well, I hope!" he answered his own questions, putting his pipe in his mouth as he cheerfully shook Phineas's hand with both of his, before sitting down, and inviting his guest to sit next to him.
"I could live here if I had a hundred more years to live! Isn't that so, Hedda? It is your first time here, I'd love to know your take on it after a few days spent here."
Hedda shot him a look, yet stayed silent. Phineas could tell her mouth was clenched, noticing the muscles in her sunken jaws contracting at the mention of her name. Jules either did not notice or pretended not to, as he continued speaking.
"I was just telling her, Phineas, she already strikes me as much more of a likable person than her predecessor - barely knew the fellow's name, didn't we, Phineas?"
"Never had the pleasure."
Phineas barely had time to grumble his answer, before the wizard continued to ramble on, speaking at length, first about the previous Durmstrang Headmaster, then his own predecessor, and finally, his plans of the Tournament, to the point that neither of the other two Headmasters could manage to get a word in edgewise. Even as he smoked or refilled his pipe, he kept either talking or asking the both of them questions, until he announced it was time for them to depart.
Phineas did not like to remember his interactions with Jules - he was never interested in his many stories, or his strange infatuation with Britain. However, he couldn't but credit him, begrudgingly, with introducing him to her. Even if he did cock up that meeting. What did he call her, again? Oh, yes…
She was talking about her predecessor, this man called Zoran, and how apathetic he was in anything he did relating to the Institute, his disdain to students and other staff, how much he looked like he did not want to be there, how she wanted to change things, offer her students opportunities, have them compete, see the world, open the doors of Durmstrang like Nerida did back in the day - the more she spoke, the more a smirk full of condescension grew on his face.
"Barely graduated yourself and already thinking like this, eh?" he finally said.
"Sorry?"
"You've barely served, what, not even a year in this post, lass. And you want to change things for what, the benefit of the students?" he laughed, leaning back on the chair. "Don't try to put me on. The Triwizard Tournament earns you a name in the history books, earns you reputation. You're traveling around and being lauded because you decided to get out of the shell that is Durmstrang, nothing more, and now you want to go even further to put your name out there."
She had told him he reminded her of the previous Headmaster, before leaving, mumbling that the alcohol must've gotten to his head, and she'll excuse this only once.
It was only years after that he finally found out the circumstances of Zoran's disappearance. He was sitting at the foot of the bed, watching Hedda intently as she was sprawled on the entirety of the mattress, illuminated only by the moonlight.
"If he's still living, he's living his days as a hermit, unaware he's even a wizard. Unaware of anything that happened to him prior to waking up one day in the middle of the mountains, very, very far from a single shadow of a human footstep. And he'll never remember, poor thing."
"Why not?" He asked, enthralled by the movement of her lips as she spoke.
"It must have been a particularly strong Memory Charm, I believe. Particularly spiteful…. if I had to give my opinion. But who knows…" she hummed the last words amused, before turning her head towards him.
However, that memory, one he had a particular soft spot for, was many years after the plans for the Triwizard Tournament fell through. The true reason was that he had too many connections, too much at stake to risk letting a single pureblood student of his be grievously harmed. After reading through the proposal, he had read up on the casualties of the past two centuries the tournament was held, and now that he understood the risks, did not want to go through facing the students' parents, angry in his office, demanding answers for why he had allowed such an incident to befall their child.
He felt a headache coming each time he imagined the scenario. After all, he had cancelled Quidditch about two years before, after a played snuck his wand with him and hexed another player to the point the kid was almost sure to lose his arms, and almost broke his neck in the fall.
Pulling out was not easy, not after both Headmasters made their way to Britain, which is why he adopted a technique opposite to his actual reasoning for pulling out. He brought them both on Hogwarts grounds, and as he gave them a tour, mentioned how he wanted to bring back the golden days of the tournament, and increase the difficulty of the challenges.
"I agree." Hedda spoke, surprising the both of them. Jules coughed the smoke from his pipe out of his lungs for a few good minutes, before replying.
"IWait-ack, wait a moment. I-I thought we had agreed on-..." he coughed again, waving his hand to finish his sentence instead.
"We had, but I think we should push these young people more and more to greatness. It was you, Hedda, who gave me that idea…We cannot start it two hundred years later with tasks that any student could do." A bold-faced lie, which neither of them had caught, however her response certainly threw him off.
"My Durmstrang students are ready." she replied sternly.
"S-so are mine, but… you cannot be serious. The Tournament was cancelled because- well, we all know why. We cannot go back to those brutal tasks."
"If the tasks are too easy, however, it removes everything that the Tournament meant, the sole reason it was created for. After all, whoever is crowed champion needs to deserve it, truly deserve it."
And that was it. The Headmaster of Beauxbatons, appalled at the both of them, decided to scrap the project, and nothing more was heard about the Tournament. He had also stopped talking to Phineas for many years, which he couldn't have been happier about, a sentiment that Hedda quickly shared as Jules stormed off from the grounds.
"My head was pounding, you know… It's been too long of a journey." she grumbled, before removing her headscarf and massaging her temples. "Have anything for a headache?"
Phineas looked at her amused, before nodding towards the Hospital Wing. "That way. There must be something there." He led her back through the field, and somehow, ended up showing her quite a lot of the grounds and castle.
"She'd always meant to come to Hogwarts." to his own surprise, he spoke out loud, and turned to face Dumbledore. "Many years before she taught here, I showed her this office, back when it was mine." He fondly remembered her wonder, as she spun around and looked at the portraits, however, he kept that detail to himself.
Phineas didn't know why he had brought her all the way to his office, it felt very much unlike himself, however, he chalked it up to a brighter demeanour due to having managed to just scrap the Tournament. He watched her quietly admire the contents of the office, all the instruments, the portraits, while she explained how barren and desolate her office back at Durmstrang was.
"We can't have Headmaster portraits facing each other like yours. You can probably imagine why." It was well-known why - more often than not, a Durmstrang Headmaster was the cause of demise of his predecessor. "It must be nice…"
Less helpful than she imagined, yet he didn't dare say anything, knowing that they were probably listening in, waiting for the smallest comment. He knew nothing but constant nagging from his predecessors - at least if he was the cause of demise of one or more, he'd be able to have more lively conversations, instead of the drab 'advice' most of them thought they were giving him.
He simply nodded, waiting until she bored of the office, and he escorted her back out. It was when he closed the door behind them and turned, that he realised there was another reason for her to stay behind. The moment the door closed, she put herself between him and the stairs, and spoke in a hushed tone that he could barely register, to ensure no one or nothing else could hear.
"I didn't forget what you called me back then." she whispered, looking at him with furrowed brows. "I know you didn't want to do the Tournament. It's not on Monsieur Delacour that it won't happen. Consider what I did a favour to you, Headmaster Black, yes?"