Phineas was not surprised by Professor Jonathan's departure. Jonathan had told Phineas his identity before Christmas and entrusted him with his bloodline inheritance. From that moment, Phineas knew the professor was going to leave. He had something he truly wanted to accomplish—resolving the disputes within the vampire community.
It was bound to be extremely dangerous, perhaps even fatal. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come to Hogwarts to find an heir.
Something urgent enough to drive a vampire elder to such action was certainly no small matter.
After that, Snape's class unfolded just as Phineas had expected. In just a week, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had fallen to the bottom two spots among the houses. Meanwhile, the quiet Ravenclaw house had surpassed them, climbing to second place.
Children's emotions are fleeting. Snape's disappointment at taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class quickly faded, and they poured their energy into the upcoming Quidditch match.
The Quidditch season, which had started in November, was nearing its conclusion. Barring any surprises, this year's final would once again be Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
As usual, Phineas did not go to the pitch to watch today's game. Instead, he stayed in the castle.
What was surprising, however, was that two other students hadn't gone to the pitch either. Their identical appearance, bright red hair, and freckled faces made their identities obvious—the Weasley twins, Fred and George. A pair of brothers who had once made Phineas feel both sorrow and pity in his previous life.
They had been together since birth. Once, they had watched each other grow old. That was the only time they aged side by side. But after that tragedy, the twins became one, and George lost the ability to cast a Patronus—the charm now useless, as all his happy memories were with the one who was gone.
Those were emotions from a past life. In this one, Phineas found the brothers slightly irritating—especially now, as they skipped the match just to pester him.
After returning the notes he had found in the secret chamber, Phineas hadn't taken out any new ones. He intended to first digest what he had learned.
Just as he arrived at the corridor on the seventh floor—
Two unidentified flying objects flew straight at his face.
As if he had rehearsed it thousands of times, Phineas's wand flicked into his palm from inside his sleeve.
"Protego!"
The Shield Charm activated instantly. Though Phineas wasn't especially skilled with it—it was only a level one spell in his magic book—it was still effective against the two unknown spherical objects. The rebounding charm sent them flying back, striking the two red-haired boys hiding in the corner.
A vile stench followed. From Phineas's perspective, a thick yellow smoke billowed out from the space between the two twins, quickly filling the corridor.
Phineas frowned at the pungent smell and immediately cast another charm.
A transparent bubble formed around his head.
"George? Fred? I don't recall provoking you. Are you trying to start a war with me?"
Phineas's tone was harsh. His wand tilted slightly in his right hand—a small habit of his to improve spellcasting flow.
If one looked closely, they would notice that Phineas didn't grip his wand like most Hogwarts students. He held it between his index and middle fingers, using his thumb to steady it.
In fact, outside of Hogwarts students, many experienced duelists had their own preferred wand grips and casting styles. It took years of training to develop such methods. Those truly skilled—or passionate about dueling—put in the effort to refine them.
Professor Flitwick, Charms Master and a former dueling champion, had his own unique style. He held his wand between his index finger and thumb for greater stability and control.
George and Fred didn't get angry at Phineas's accusation. Instead, they looked at each other and burst into laughter, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Wow, mate, how'd you do that? You've gotta teach us!"
"Seriously, that spell's brilliant. We could invent a dozen pranks with it!"
They kept talking over each other, which only irritated Phineas further. He raised his wand and pointed it at them.
"Are you messing with me? Or do you Weasleys also think I'm one of You-Know-Who's pawns, like the rest of the Black family?"
Both twins were momentarily stunned. Then, grinning, they replied,
"You're way overthinking it."
"We just wanted to thank you for putting Percy in his place."
"Honestly, we've never seen him that mad before."
"Face bright red, going on about writing to Mum."
"Poor Percy. He doesn't know Mum won't bother coming to school to scold a Black."
"Yeah, I don't think he has a clue."
They spoke like two parts of the same mind. Their eerie synchronicity made Phineas's head throb.
"So, you came here just to thank me?"
They nodded with wide smiles.
Phineas sighed. His headache worsened.
"And your way of thanking me was throwing something disgusting at my face?"
George explained,
"That was a dungbomb—classic prank material."
Fred added cheerfully,
"We're thinking of opening a joke shop someday."
Phineas shook his head and waved his wand.
"Tergeo."
He helped clean the mess off their robes.
"First of all, I wasn't trying to humiliate Percy Weasley. He provoked me. And clearly, you two don't know why he was really embarrassed—otherwise, I doubt you'd be here thanking me."
The twins leaned in curiously. Phineas's response only fueled their interest.
"Go on, tell us—what did you say?"
Phineas shrugged.
"It was simple. Every time he tried to pick on me in the Transfiguration Club, I told him your mum, Molly, is my cousin. Got it now? Nephew George. Nephew Fred."