Phineas had come to find Erwin, and he paid little mind to the others. All that mattered was locating the boy. If Erwin was in his dormitory, Phineas figured the Malfoy lad could escort him there.
But things took an unexpected turn. Suddenly, Draco Malfoy had his wand out, pointing it straight at the portrait on the wall.
"Who are you, and why are you looking for our prefect?" the boy demanded.
The disturbance drew the other young wizards' attention. One by one, they drew their wands and trained them on Phineas.
Phineas nearly laughed in outrage. Him—a Slytherin student? Threatening his portrait? The absurdity of it all! In his day, he'd been Slytherin's pride, the first headmaster ever to graduate from the house. These fools had completely mishandled the portrait honor owed to him.
He'd always argued for more portraits in the Slytherin common room, to keep his legacy alive. But time had eroded that; now, the students didn't even recognize him. Still, beneath the anger, a strange relief washed over him. This explained why Dumbledore had sent him to check on Slytherin—the house had changed, all thanks to Erwin's influence.
Just as the tension peaked, a lazy voice cut through from the stairs. Erwin yawned as he descended. "What's all this about?"
The group turned toward him. Erwin followed their wand tips to the portrait and paused. "Hey! Headmaster Phineas? What brings you here? You lot—lower your wands right now. I told you to crack open a book now and then instead of fooling around. Haven't you read Hogwarts history? Didn't you spot his portrait in there?"
A few of the students who had bothered with their textbooks vaguely recalled the name. The former Slytherin headmaster—the house's greatest alumnus. They hastily stowed their wands.
Erwin reached the bottom of the stairs and gave a slight bow. "My apologies, Headmaster Phineas. They meant no disrespect."
Phineas waved it off. "Forget it. My time was ages ago; it's natural they'd forget. But you ought to drill the basics into them, Erwin. You're their prefect."
"Right you are, Headmaster," Erwin replied. He turned to the group. "Apologize to him now. Who taught you to aim wands at a revered Slytherin headmaster? And with your skills, do you honestly think you could scratch a portrait? Use your heads!"
Phineas's expression soured. So Erwin was scolding them not for the rudeness, but for the poor execution? Unbelievable.
A younger Slytherin piped up quickly. "Sorry, Headmaster Phineas!"
Phineas dismissed it with a gesture. "Never mind. Erwin, grab a frame. Let's head to your dormitory and chat."
Erwin nodded and scanned the room. The nearby portraits looked tense, as if sensing trouble. He considered for a beat. "One moment, Headmaster. I'll fetch one from outside. Plenty of old Slytherin alumni portraits scattered about—moving one's a hassle otherwise."
With that, he slipped out of the common room and approached a nearby frame. He glanced at the plaque below: a former Gryffindor student. Perfect.
"Senior," Erwin said politely, "mind shifting to another room?"
The portrait's occupant gaped in shock. "What? Asking me to clear out like that?"
Erwin wasted no time, drawing a small knife. "Are you moving yourself, or shall I smash the frame and let you hunt for a new one?"
The Gryffindor's face twisted in alarm. "Vile Slytherin! As treacherous as ever!" Without waiting, he bolted—leaping into the adjacent frame, then the next, vanishing at breakneck speed.
Erwin hefted the now-empty frame back to the common room. "Here we are, Headmaster. A tad small, but it'll do for now."
Phineas nodded approvingly, eyeing the plaque. "Well done."
He stepped forward—and in an instant, manifested inside the frame before Erwin.
Erwin watched, intrigued. What magic powered that?
Noticing the curiosity, Phineas explained. "Don't bother puzzling it out. Portraits aren't like photographs, which rely on developing potions. These moving ones? A sliver of the artist's—or subject's—soul essence is infused during creation. But don't get ideas; siphoning soul power from the living dulls the mind and sharpens folly."
Erwin nodded, the pieces clicking. A milder echo of a Horcrux—lacking the immortality, but born of similar principles. And Phineas's warning rang true; just look at Voldemort, whose brilliance had curdled into paranoia and rash stupidity after his soul-splitting experiments.
Still, the concept fascinated him. His instincts told him it might prove useful someday—worth exploring if the chance arose.
Erwin lifted the frame. "Carry on with your studies, all of you. More reading, less slacking—I've said it a dozen times."
The little Slytherins exchanged glances, eyeing the books on the table with wry grimaces. They'd tried, honest.
Up in his dormitory, Erwin set the frame on the windowsill table. Phineas gazed out at the Black Lake's murky depths, the dungeon's sole glimpse of daylight.
"Been ages since I lingered here," he murmured. "I roomed on this level once—the only spot in Slytherin with a view. Nostalgic, really."
"If you like it, I'll mount the frame here permanently," Erwin offered. "Drop by whenever."
Phineas eyed him shrewdly. "Flattery, eh? Out with it, boy. What's on your mind?"
Erwin grinned. "Caught me. Truth is, I'm wondering about the perks of being a Slytherin prefect. Professor Snape mentioned that becoming a model prefect opens doors to unimaginable rewards."
...
Promise kept! That brings us to 15 chapters for the day.
I hope you guys enjoyed the mass release. Please keep reading and keep voting to help us hold our rank! Your support today has been legendary.
— MrGrim