Chapter 297: The Legendary Path
The Earthly Python bloodline granted Phineas ancient parseltoungue, devouring abilities, and enhanced magical perception.
Among his inherited bloodlines, the civet lineage was the purest and had the highest awakening rate. This ancestry influenced his Animagus form, allowing him to transform into a cat. It also endowed him with remarkable talents, such as the fabled nine lives and limited time travel. Of course, magical perception—common to all awakened magical bloodlines—was included as well.
Compared to these two potent bloodlines, the Star Horse, which granted Sky Eye; the Dark Crow, which carried affinity with death; and the Tengu, which bestowed a magical body, were considerably inferior.
Yet the Tengu bloodline held significance. It was the source of the purest lineage in the Black family, which left Phineas conflicted. If he chose to progress along the legendary path using the Tengu, he could draw upon the ancestral texts and experience of countless elders for guidance.
This was the dilemma he faced. Choosing the Earthly Python or Civet Cat lineages meant carving his own path—stronger at the start, but without a blueprint to follow. If he chose the Tengu path, he would progress slower and weaker, but the guidance available could potentially streamline his ascent.
One path offered immediate strength with slow progress; the other, a modest beginning but swift advancement.
Both could lead to legendary power.
But Phineas wasn't aiming to become just a legend. His goal was divinity. Not just any god, but one capable of transcending time and returning home.
He thought of his dream—his long-held yearning—and realized that even among gods, power varied. Of all the bloodlines, only the civet held talents in time and space, aligning perfectly with his goal. Even the Earthly Python fell short in comparison.
Thus, Phineas chose the civet bloodline.
The path ahead became clear: he would absorb and integrate the strengths of the other bloodlines into the civet lineage. When its purity reached a certain threshold, he would ascend to legend. When fully purified, he would become a demigod. And if a divine quota remained, he would become a god.
The divine path was now within reach.
Emerging from his months of seclusion, Phineas left the Hufflepuff Chamber of Secrets.
Outwardly, it appeared he had done little—neither crafting new spells nor learning forbidden magic. It seemed like a waste of time. Yet, if anyone challenged him now, they would witness a prodigious wizard—still not yet of age—wielding the power of a legend.
"I wonder if anything's happened at Hogwarts," Phineas mused. "But Dumbledore is still alive. No one with true ill intent would dare act."
Well… Quirrell and Umbridge didn't count. One was a professor who tried to exploit Voldemort before dying. The other was a Ministry official dispatched to interfere.
And if Phineas said they didn't count—then they didn't count.
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"Master, you've returned."
Phineas didn't head directly to 12 Grimmauld Place but instead to Lisa's manor. Since her death, the Fidelius Charm protecting the manor had dissolved, and his followers had safeguarded it ever since—Lisa's resting place was also here.
(Lisa had been the manor's Secret Keeper, and Phineas the caster of the Fidelius Charm. Because she never revealed the exact location to anyone else, the charm dissipated upon her death.)
(Author's Note: The Fidelius Charm allows the Secret Keeper to reveal the location of the protected place. If the keeper dies without passing it on, those previously informed become new Secret Keepers.)
The wizard on duty quickly approached upon seeing Phineas.
"Is Damon here?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Damon is resting on the first floor," the wizard replied.
Phineas nodded and proceeded inside. The first floor had been opened for the guards to rest, while the upper floors remained off-limits—Lisa's quarters were on the second floor, and Phineas's private rooms and library occupied the third.
The manor resembled a castle in its Gothic design, though it had only four spacious floors, easily accommodating dozens.
"Master?" Damon blinked in confusion at the sight of Phineas. "Aren't you supposed to be sitting exams at Hogwarts? Rumors say you've been missing for six months..."
Phineas gave a nod of understanding. He raised his right hand and summoned his snakewood staff from the Ravenclaw ring. With a flick, a ball of clear water rose and, through shaping magic, formed into a small sparrow flitting through the air.
Damon relaxed. Only Phineas could use transmutation magic, a form never publicly shared—even legends like Dumbledore hadn't mastered it.
"Do you have any orders, Master?"
Phineas shook his head and settled into a chair.
"I've been in seclusion. Catch me up on the current state of the magical world, the Black family, and our holdings."
Damon clapped, and a house-elf brought refreshments. This elf belonged to Damon—when Phineas had first offered to send his own elves, Damon declined. He understood that Phineas's elves weren't just servants—they were his personal guards, kept on standby at the Black ancestral home.
Damon had his own loyal servant and saw no reason to burden Phineas's resources.
Once refreshments were served, Damon began:
"Two months ago, rumors of your disappearance spread. At first, few believed it—you had just dismantled the Parkinson, Goyle, and Crabbe families. No one dared act rashly."
"But as time passed without any sightings of you, the rumor gained traction. Isolated wizards believed it and exaggerated the story in taverns and shops."
"Major families waited to see what would happen. If you hadn't appeared or if your enterprises showed any instability, they would've taken it as confirmation of your absence."
"But a few did make moves."
Phineas's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"Those previously affiliated with the Riche family—ones you punished after Lisa's death."
Phineas sneered. "Riche still won't give up, then?"
Riche had lost most of Italy to the Black family, and Selwyn held Greece with an iron grip. Britain was all that remained—a battleground that Phineas had aggressively consolidated. After eliminating several Riche-allied families, he had begun restructuring Britain's magical society.
"Continue," Phineas prompted.
Damon nodded. "The Ministry of Magic arrested some of our people, citing the attack on Parkinson Manor. I went to Minister Fudge and had them released."
Phineas frowned. It was one thing for rogue families to resist—but the Ministry openly targeting the Black family? That bordered on provocation.
He doubted Fudge even knew about the Council of Elders. If he had, he wouldn't be so arrogant. The Minister might appear powerful, but the Council—and by extension the consular families like the Blacks—truly held dominion.
Even during Sirius's arrest, it had only occurred because he was considered estranged from the family and had not resisted.
"Damon, remind the Ministry who rules Britain's magical world now. Apply pressure—and quietly inform the other families."
Damon bowed. "Understood."
They continued discussing matters until Phineas asked, "Is Sirius awake yet?"
Damon shook his head. "No, and there are rumors that with your disappearance, Sirius's death would make the Black fortune vulnerable. Shall I assign someone to guard St. Mungo's?"
Phineas nodded. "Do it. But remain unseen. I want to maintain the illusion that I'm still missing. Let's see who makes the first move."
Damon nodded. As Phineas's operations chief in America, his skill rivaled even Lisa's in certain areas.
"Oh, and the box you requested is ready."
Phineas's eyes brightened. Excellent. Now they could relocate the basilisk from Hogwarts.
"Good. Dig out a hidden chamber beneath the manor. Put the entrance in the woods—no one should go there. I plan to house the basilisk below."
Damon was startled. "A basilisk? Who in their right mind still raises one?"
"It's not newly bred. It's the thousand-year-old basilisk from Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts," Phineas said calmly.
Damon blinked. "Ah… yes. That rumor did circulate six months ago..."