The school hallways were practically empty at that moment, which was not surprising, considering everyone should have headed to the cafeteria, as it was lunchtime.
Exactly for this reason, Marguerith Black left the library a bit hastily. She had taken longer than she should have, choosing the books she needed for this week's assignments.
She looked at her watch while trying to balance the pile of books with just one hand. There was still half an hour left for the lunch break to end, but it would be more than enough for her to gulp down the food and head to the first class of the afternoon.
She turned the corner and stopped when she noticed a poster had been pinned to the school's bulletin board. Marguerith immediately recognized her older sister's handwriting, who was the head prefect that year.
At that moment, it struck her that she had promised Betelgeuse she would go to Headmaster Dippet's office to deliver some monitoring reports, as her sister had a chess club meeting at that time. Marge would have to skip lunch and make do with some biscuits and chocolate frogs she had stored in her backpack.
She reduced the books with a wave of her wand, stored them in her bag, and hurried to the gargoyle that gave access to the headmaster's office. Marguerith whispered the password her sister had given her and climbed the spiral staircase.
She knocked on the door, waiting for a response. It didn't take long for Armando Dippet to answer and call her in.
An old man with a very dignified and solemn appearance, dressed in long and majestic blue and bronze robes, greeted the girl with a nod.
"Good afternoon, Miss Black."
"Good afternoon, Headmaster. My sister asked me to leave some documents with you."
Dippet nodded, extending his hand to take the papers.
"Wait a moment, I also need to give her a to-do list, but I left it in my file, at the back of the room."
While Dippet was away, Marguerith began to observe the professor's office. It was strange that after almost seven years, it was her first time entering there. Before she could pay attention to the details of the room, she heard a deep voice speaking to her.
"So, you are my other granddaughter," said the portrait of a man with black hair, dark eyes, a pointed beard, and thin eyebrows. He was wearing green and silver robes.
"What?" Marguerith asked, surprised.
The man in the portrait frowned severely.
"I'm not surprised you don't know who I am. Hesper always locks the room where my portrait is in Grimmauld Place when you are there. She thinks I might offend you somehow. I am Phineas Nigellus, your grandfather."
"My grandfather..." she whispered to herself.
Marge hadn't considered that she might encounter the portrait of the old family patriarch there. It was obvious, after all, he had been the headmaster of Hogwarts until 1925.
The girl raised her head and looked at the portrait with a haughty look, knowing it was the man who had expelled her father and erased him from the tapestry.
"I am Cassiopeia Marguerith Black, daughter of Phineas Black," she said harshly. "Yes, I am your granddaughter."
The former headmaster of Hogwarts looked her up and down, as if assessing her. A slight curl of the lips on the portrait seemed to indicate he liked what he saw.
"You and your sister seem to be genuine Blacks after all. Although Betelgeuse has a sharper tongue than yours."
Marguerith almost smiled, imagining her sister conversing with their grandfather. Bete had a subtle and engaging way of making people respect her. Sometimes she wished she were more like her.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, girl. Even better to see that the education Sirius and Hesper gave you surpassed my son's useless influence over you."
For a few seconds, the girl paled. She might not agree with her late father's ideals, but she would never allow anyone to consider Phineas Black useless.
"My father might have been naive, but he was a man of value!"
The former headmaster grimaced with displeasure. The other granddaughter had ignored his statements, affirming that a true Black didn't care about others' opinions. This one was more passionate. She needed to understand that their family should always appear superior.
"You still need to learn to control your temper, my granddaughter. Or you will also stumble into the same kinds of foolishness your father did. He shamed my name and our family, I hope you do not do the same."
Marguerith narrowed her eyes, raised her head even higher. She clenched her teeth for a few seconds, trying to control herself. If she stayed in the room any longer, she would scream at her grandfather, or burst into tears. She chose not to wait for Headmaster Dippet. She needed to leave.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Black," she said as she hurried to the exit.
When she reached the hallway and realized she was alone, she started running, hoping that the physical effort would dissipate her anger.
However, on the way, she tripped over her own feet, scattering her belongings across the floor, and accidentally drove her left hand into the shards of the inkwell.
She sat on the floor, pathetically looking at her hand, stained black and red, with a piece of glass still lodged in it.
"Marge?" a concerned voice called out to her.
She looked up to find that it was Alphard who had called her.
"I tripped..." she said simply.
The boy just nodded, gathering the scattered materials into her bag, cleaning up the remnants of the inkwell, and helping his cousin to her feet.
"Let's go to the infirmary," Alphard said gently.
Marguerith agreed, allowing herself to lean on him. She didn't feel strong enough to say anything at that moment, nor did she want to share with anyone the unpleasant conversation she had had with her grandfather.
It was a large room, with various furniture and strange silver objects making different noises and puffing out smoke. Marguerith stood with her arms behind her back, waiting for the Transfiguration professor to invite her to sit or explain why he had called her.
Dumbledore's calm, light blue eyes observed her over his glasses. The man smiled at the girl. Despite Marguerith's stern demeanor, he supposed the Slytherin was at least curious as to why he had called her to his office.
"Please, have a seat," he finally said.
Marge settled into the high-backed chair in front of the professor's desk. She maintained the serious expression she usually wore when dealing with the teachers. She had been taught to treat those who provided her education with respect, setting aside whether she agreed with their stance on certain issues.
"Miss Black," the man began politely, "I imagine you're wondering why I asked you to come here. Headmaster Dippet mentioned you left his office, leaving some documents behind, and suspected it might be due to an interaction with your grandfather's portrait. He has witnessed part of a conversation between the former headmaster and your sister. Phineas Nigellus confirmed he spoke with you, and what he said to you..."
The girl crossed her arms, trying to appear calm. However, she still felt hurt by her grandfather's words.
"That didn't mean anything," Marguerith said, not giving in.
Dumbledore considered himself, most of the time, good at assessing people, although he could say he had been wrong—very wrong—a few times. However, in the case of that teenager, it was clear to him that she felt wounded.
"I want to show you something," the professor said, moving toward a cabinet.
He returned with a silver basin, in which one could see runes and symbols carved, as well as embedded precious stones. He also held a vial containing a silvery liquid. Dumbledore placed the basin in front of Marguerith and poured the contents of the vial into it.
"This is a Pensieve. I have just placed Aribeth Thorne's memories in it, of a battle that took place against part of Grindelwald's army. I wasn't there that day, but it was an important victory for us. I'd like you to see it."
Without understanding the professor's motives, Marge leaned over the object and felt herself immersed in those memories. The place was cold, a snowstorm furiously surrounding the people there. The Slytherin managed to distinguish the figure of a red-haired woman with brown eyes next to an incredible creature. A white dragon, with silver spikes jutting from its spine, forming a row of weapons no one would want to fight against. The woman placed her hand on the animal's head as if conversing with it. The next moment, the dragon took flight, launching powerful flames at specific points on the battlefield.
The memory was abruptly cut, and Marguerith couldn't see how that battle ended. She raised her green eyes, looking at Dumbledore with a confused and inquisitive expression.
"Why did you show me this?"
"So you would know for sure that your father was a hero. Have you ever heard of the Aureos Oroborus Sibilae?"
Marguerith shook her head.
"It's not general knowledge, although there are dark circles among wizards who worship it. The Aureos is a compendium of traditional wizarding family names. Now it is just a book in our library. But it was once a key, to awaken Hades, the protector of Hogwarts, the dragon you saw in Aribeth's memories..."
"How... how did they control a dragon? Not even the MacFustys can do that," Marguerith asked, referring to the traditional clan of dragon tamers. She was really impressed.
Dumbledore smiled, remembering the day they opened the chamber. There were coded instructions in the Aureos.
"With Ancient Magic. Something Aribeth mastered perfectly. We couldn't discover what Hades really was. But he wasn't an ordinary dragon; he had an almost human intelligence. During the battle, he was badly injured but fulfilled his role. Aribeth said that Hades communicated with her, saying he was going to Dyfed, the dragon cemetery in the Hebrides. Everything indicates he perished there."
Although that story had impacted her, the Slytherin couldn't understand Phineas Black's role.
"What does this have to do with my father?"
"It was thanks to him that the Aureos came to us. His actions, directly and indirectly, saved many lives."
Marguerith allowed herself a small smile. Sometimes she wondered what kind of person she would be if she had been raised by her parents. However, she had long ago decided to accept herself as she was, heir to the principles of Sirius and Hesper. But despite not agreeing with Phineas' principles, hearing Dumbledore's words made her feel immense pride in the man he had been.
"Thank you, professor," she said, feeling a kind of comfort filling her chest.
Dumbledore nodded, smiling back in response.