Jonathan's question confused Phineas. Didn't you summon me? Why would I be the one looking for you?
"Well, Professor, you asked someone to call me here."
Jonathan looked startled for a moment, then said,
"Oh, yes—yes, I did. I was just distracted with some matters."
"Then, Professor, what did you need me for?"
Jonathan's expression shifted. The friendly demeanor he'd worn before faded, replaced by a solemn, noble air.
"You must have figured out my identity by now. As the heir of the Black family, it would be rather unreasonable if you hadn't."
Phineas blinked. He had indeed deduced, based on the clues from the system and his own investigations, that Jonathan was a vampire. But what did that have to do with the Black family?
There was only one vampire in the history of the Black family—recorded five centuries ago, during the time of the Black Death in Europe.
The Black family had always upheld a rule Phineas found deeply problematic and intended to abolish in the future: if a child was born a Squib, or married a Muggle-born or half-blood, they would be removed from the family—struck not only from the family name but literally from the enchanted family tree.
That magical tapestry, mounted on the wall of a drawing room at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, would automatically inscribe the name of any newborn once they were named. Along with that came an inherited power, drawn from the ancient Black bloodline. But if someone was burned off the tree, not only were they disowned, they also severed that mystical connection—perhaps even weakening the collective strength of their generation.
Phineas didn't fully understand what this bloodline power was, but he knew it was real.
Returning to the matter at hand—five hundred years ago, during the Black Death, a child of the Black family was cast out for being a Squib. He had returned home during the plague, hoping to be of help. By then, he'd already been attacked by a vampire. Somehow, with the assistance of one of the family's ancestors, he survived the transformation and retained his humanity. Still, his condition brought misfortune upon the family, and he was ultimately erased from the records.
Even so, legends persisted—this child, once a field doctor, continued to treat people long after becoming a vampire, refusing to harm innocents. A healer, even in darkness.
As this memory clicked into place, Phineas looked sharply at the man before him.
"You're that child?"
he asked, before realizing the awkwardness of calling him a child. From any perspective, Jonathan was vastly his elder.
Jonathan didn't seem to mind. He gave a weary smile and asked,
"So, in the family records, I'm just referred to as 'a child,' with no further details?"
Phineas nodded. It stung to admit, but it was true. Jonathan had no place in the records. A half-blood wizard turned vampire was unworthy of mention—by the family's outdated standards.
Jonathan seemed to understand. He let out a slow sigh and waved the topic aside.
"Enough of ancient history. Let's talk about why I really asked you here."
Phineas nodded, now wary.
"All right. I'm listening."
Jonathan leaned forward.
"You know what I am. And you probably know that vampires rarely have descendants. When we need an heir, we pass our bloodline to a chosen godchild."
Phineas's eyes narrowed. He was familiar with the concept. Vampires had their strengths—immortality, speed, and power—but they also had severe limitations.
Most vampires couldn't cast spells, unless they were originally wizards and turned in a specific way. Transformation through attack created a lesser vampire, bound to the will of their sire. But inheritance through bloodline was different—equal and free. The new vampire wouldn't be subordinate but would carry the same lineage and status.
More importantly, high-ranking vampires had difficulty reproducing. While not impossible, it was rare. So instead, they passed on their legacy by giving their bloodline to carefully chosen successors.
Phineas understood that much. But why was Jonathan telling him this now?
Jonathan answered the unspoken question.
"I've never taken a godson. Never passed on my bloodline. But I can't allow my line—my ancestor's line—to end with me."
Phineas frowned. Everything was lining up with his suspicions, but he still didn't fully grasp the urgency.
"But, Professor," Phineas said carefully, "if I remember correctly, it's very difficult for vampires—especially powerful ones like you—to die."
Jonathan nodded.
"True. Vampires of my level can live eternally, so long as we avoid catastrophic injury. Most of us spend long years in hibernation, and though it costs us time, it's a small price for immortality."
"So… what's the danger now?"
Phineas asked.
Jonathan exhaled slowly, his tone growing grim.
"There are problems stirring within vampire society. Troubles that only those of our rank can handle."
Phineas nodded.
"You believe this matter is dangerous enough to cost even an elder vampire his life?"
Jonathan nodded again.
"Yes. One reason I took this post at Hogwarts was because of an agreement with Dumbledore. But the other reason was to find an heir. And you, Phineas Black, are the most suitable candidate. So… what is your decision?"
Phineas was stunned.
Then, slowly, he shook his head.
"I am the heir of the House of Black. I still have responsibilities to that legacy—and I must eventually have children to carry it on. I'm sorry, Professor. I have no plans to become a vampire."
Jonathan's brow furrowed.
"Are you certain? You know that inheriting my bloodline wouldn't sever your Black lineage. In fact, it would strengthen it. You could still have descendants—it's just… difficult. And your magical ability wouldn't be diminished."