Great-grandfather?
Sirius Black cast a surprised glance at the portrait. He had no idea why his great-grandfather had suddenly appeared in the frame or what he could possibly want.
Walburga was clearly taken aback as well. This grandfather of hers… well, he was her grandfather, after all. By lineage, she was Phineas Nigellus Black's granddaughter.
Yes, you heard that right—Walburga, before marrying Orion Black, was also a Black by birth.
By blood, the two of them were, in fact, cousins.
One had to admit, the tangled web of pure-blood family ties was so convoluted it could rival a drama like Grisaia no Kajitsu in its complexity.
"Ha! If it isn't my favorite great-grandson!" Phineas exclaimed, throwing his arms wide with theatrical flair.
The expression on his face was utterly genuine—he truly seemed to adore Sirius.
"Oh, Great-grandfather," Sirius replied coolly, his tone neither warm nor cold. He still couldn't fathom why Phineas, who had always branded him the disgrace of the Black family, had suddenly changed his tune.
Being hailed as the Black family's "favorite great-grandson" out of the blue left Sirius feeling a bit disoriented.
His mind was clearly elsewhere. Ever since he'd stepped into the house, his heart had been racing, as though he'd forgotten something important but couldn't quite put his finger on it.
What had he forgotten?
Walburga, assuming her grandfather was being sarcastic, waved off his comment dismissively. "If we're talking about making us angry, that beast has certainly achieved something," she said with a sneer.
"Don't you dare speak of my favorite great-grandson that way!" Phineas retorted, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "Sirius is the pride of the Black family! Whoever calls him a disgrace will have to answer to me first!"
Not only Sirius himself but even Lupin looked up, giving Phineas a fresh appraisal.
Merlin's beard, did this man actually have a change of heart?
Harry, too, shot Phineas a surprised look, curious to know what could have swayed this stubborn old goat.
Phineas's temper, after all, was notoriously foul.
"I simply don't understand—what's gotten into you!" Walburga stared at her grandfather in disbelief. "You agreed to disown that rebellious wretch, Sirius. You yourself called him the disgrace of the Black family. Why, all of a sudden, is he your 'favorite great-grandson'?"
Phineas shot Walburga a withering glance, his expression practically screaming, Do I, Phineas Nigellus Black, need to explain myself to anyone?
But for the sake of family harmony, he cleared his throat and addressed her. "Walburga, I strongly suggest you treat Sirius a bit better."
"What?!" Walburga barked, as if she'd heard the most absurd thing imaginable. "Impossible! Absolutely impossible! I'd rather die—jump off this balcony and perish outside—than forgive that beast or accept him as my son again!"
Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, both sensing that Walburga had just planted a rather spectacular flag.
"I'd hold off on saying that if I were you," Phineas said mysteriously. "Come here, I have something to tell you."
"Let them talk," Sirius said with a shrug. "Let's head inside and get your rooms sorted. And don't think you little boyfriends and girlfriends are getting paired up in the same rooms—I'm not that cool of a dad."
His tone was casual, almost flippant, but his eyes were clearly fixed on Harry and Cassandra.
Cassandra rolled her eyes, ignoring Sirius's sudden bout of madness.
"Does this have something to do with that beast?" Walburga's voice echoed from the portrait.
Once the others had left, Phineas leaned in conspiratorially. "Do you know who Sirius's godson is?"
"Who?" Walburga scoffed. "Just the Potter boy's son, who supposedly defeated some Dark Lord. Ha! In my opinion, he got lucky… or maybe he just rode on someone else's coattails, didn't he?"
"No, do you really know who he is?" Phineas said softly. "You should know, Walburga, that when I was Headmaster of Hogwarts, I had a student named Harry Potter."
"You mean…?"
Walburga's posture stiffened. "The one my father was always going on about? The legendary wizard he idolized, who crushed the Ashwinder Syndicate and quelled the Goblin Rebellion—that Harry Potter?"
"Exactly," Phineas confirmed. "I only recently learned that this Harry Potter actually traveled through time from this era to a century ago."
"You mean…?"
Walburga wasn't dim. She caught Phineas's meaning immediately.
"You're not saying…" She clapped a hand over her mouth.
Phineas nodded gravely, confirming her suspicion.
"You're really saying…" Walburga clutched her throat, struggling to breathe.
The legendary wizard, Harry Potter? He had just been standing right in front of her?
Merlin's beard, Merlin's beard…
That was her father's idol…
His lifelong dream had been to track down this very Mr. Potter…
It was said that even the Dark Lord, that so-called "You-Know-Who," had stolen his title from this Mr. Potter…
"Yes, that Harry Potter," Phineas said with a smiling nod.
"Merlin's beard, Mr. Potter…" Walburga tugged at her collar, gasping for air. "He's a guest in the Black family home! This… this is an honor! The entire Grimmauld Place shines brighter for his presence!"
"And that's not all," Phineas continued, dropping another bombshell. "I happen to know that both Septimus Malfoy's daughter, Cassandra, and that Gellert Grindelwald's sister, Veratia, have their hearts set on this Mr. Potter. Imagine that—the sister of Grindelwald, who gave even Dumbledore such a headache, is smitten with Potter…"
"I'll have Kreacher prepare the finest hospitality for him!" Walburga declared firmly.
"No, you're missing the point!" Phineas said, exasperated. "Think, Walburga! Don't you see you should reconsider how you treat Sirius?"
"That rebellious wretch?" Walburga blinked, still not catching on. "Why, Grandfather?"
"Think!" Phineas roared, nearly at his wit's end. "Why do you think I called Sirius the pride of the Black family? Your father's lifelong idol, the man who crushed the Ashwinder Syndicate, the iron-fisted leader who quelled the Goblin Rebellion, the legendary wizard of a century ago—who is his godfather now?"
"His godfather?"
Walburga repeated the words softly, then it hit her—Sirius. Her face flushed a deep, purplish red.
Merlin's beard!
Merlin's bloody magical hat! Salazar Slytherin in the depths of hell!
"You mean to say that such an incredible figure is my son's godson? That he calls my son his godfather?"
A lioness's roar echoed through the entire Black family home.
"Sirius Black! I hereby declare you my favorite son! Kreacher! Hurry and reinscribe my dear son's name on the Black family tapestry! Now!"
After her outburst, Walburga's face lit up with glee.
"I never would've thought… Jesus, Merlin, and all that's holy…"
Hearing Walburga's crude exclamation, Phineas pursed his lips but didn't correct her.
Understandable, really.
When he'd learned that Harry Potter was Sirius's godson, he'd been over the moon himself—how could he expect any less from others?
Besides, this was something that brought glory to the entire Black family…
What Dark Lord? Voldemort? Never heard of him, thanks.
Walburga felt her face puffing up like a child's wet bedsheet, expanding infinitely in a confined space.
Oh, sweet Morgana…
Sirius, who hadn't walked far, froze in his tracks, turning back toward his mother's portrait with a look of utter disbelief.
What in the world? That vile, shrewish woman…
No, wait—Mum?
What kind of nonsense was this?
Every wizard under the sun knew she despised him to the core, even going so far as to personally strike him from the Black family tapestry…
So why was he suddenly her "favorite son"?
Wasn't Regulus her pride and joy? Didn't she boast about how he followed the Dark Lord, bringing honor to the Black name?
Little did Sirius know what was racing through his mother's mind.
Forget working for the Dark Lord—even if Regulus became the Dark Lord, in Walburga's eyes, it wouldn't hold a candle to the glory Sirius had brought her.
Ha! My son's a Dark Lord? Pfft. My dear boy is the godfather of a legendary wizard!
Downstairs, Kreacher wore a puzzled expression but dutifully carried out his mistress's orders.
Kreacher was ancient, having served the Black family for centuries and witnessed countless events, but this was the first time he'd seen someone struck from the family tapestry only to be reinstated.
Still, as a house-elf, he carried out his mistress's wishes with precision.
He dragged a stool over to the tapestry wall, carefully reinscribing Sirius Black's name and even sketching his portrait, marking it with "3 November 1959—"
Harry and the others followed Sirius, passing by his room.
The door to Sirius's room stood open, as it had for years, its contents untouched since he'd left home at sixteen.
"This is my room," Sirius said, still not fully processing the situation. "Looks just like it did when I left—"
"Oh, I never would've guessed you had this kind of hobby," Cassandra said suddenly, her gaze fixed on the room's interior. "Just don't corrupt your godson, I'm warning you."
Sirius caught her meaning instantly.
Blast it!
That's what he'd forgotten…
How had he overlooked something so important?
"Those were just youthful indiscretions," Sirius said, pushing Harry toward the door. "I should probably take them down, but… I used a Permanent Sticking Charm, so it seems they're stuck…"
Harry craned his neck to peek inside and, sure enough, spotted a collection of bikini-clad pin-up posters next to Sirius's bed.
Ahem.
Quite the spicy display—long legs, ample curves. Sirius's taste wasn't exactly surprising.
Harry, truth be told, wasn't opposed to it either.
It was a man's natural instinct, wasn't it?
"Whoa!" Ron let out an admiring whistle, only to yelp, "Ow!"—likely from a pinch by Hermione.
Hmph. Staring at bikini girls right in front of me?
"I thought you weren't into women," Lupin teased with a grin. "Turns out you've got this side to you—looks like our tastes are pretty similar. We both like lively, youthful girls."
"Men are all the same," Sirius said, no longer embarrassed. After all, he'd been caught red-handed…
Just a bit of black history, nothing more. Appreciating beauty was human nature.
"Let's go inside and take a look," he said, waving everyone in.
"Oh? Really?" Poppy Sweeting suddenly floated up, circling Harry. "You too, Harry?"
Harry coughed twice, pretending his throat was scratchy, and rubbed his neck.
"Of course he does," Cassandra chimed in. "Just look at Grindelwald's figure—textbook… ahem, scandalous curves, right? And you, Sweeting, I really should suggest to Mr. Flamel that he scale you down a bit when he reshapes your body."
"You're jealous," Poppy said, squinting.
Her words caught Cassandra off guard, leaving her momentarily flustered.
"Jealous of you? Don't be ridiculous!" Cassandra snapped, crossing her arms. "You insufferable donkey…"
"Bleh!" Poppy ducked behind Harry, sticking out her tongue at Cassandra. "You're just jealous, plain old Cassandra!"
With that, she floated off.
As Cassandra's expression grew colder and she began to stalk after Poppy, Harry hurried to the doorway, grabbing her arm. "It's fine, really. I actually quite like…"
Two suspicious patches of red bloomed on Cassandra's icy cheeks. She yanked her hand back and turned away. "Hmph, like what, Potter? Don't tell me you're into that donkey's scandalous figure?"
Harry glanced back to see everyone else chatting, oblivious to their exchange. He took Cassandra's hand again and said, "Of course I like your figure, Cass—"
Before he could finish, Harry felt his body lift off the ground.
"Shameless!"
Cassandra huffed indignantly, storming back into the room.
--
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