Jane Yu had no idea what the outside world had turned into.
All she knew was that brand-new textbooks and assignments had been delivered to her by Severus Snape.
It was then she realized that when all forms of entertainment were stripped away, even homework could become a source of joy.
To be precise, the arguments among the portraits of former headmasters over the format and content of her homework—up to eight hundred times a day—were the true source of amusement. They even competed to see who could provide her with the answers the fastest.
And today, Snape brought her a new cellmate...
—Harry Potter, who was unceremoniously shoved—no, kicked—into the headmaster's office by Snape, struggling all the way.
Jane looked around at the room's decor, confirming that this was indeed the headmaster's office.
She had tried various methods to blow up one of its walls before, but all she managed to do was leave a tiny scratch...
The wall quickly restored itself to its original state.
Could this be what they called the unbreakable Hogwarts Safe House?
Was everyone expelled from school thrown into this place?
Seeing a living, familiar face—even if it was the Chosen One—brought tears of joy to Jane's eyes.
Across from her, Harry was clearly more emotional than she was. His expression was as colorful as a painter's palette—
From utter dejection and sadness, it quickly shifted to utter surprise and astonishment, and finally settled on utter joy.
"You—you're actually here! This is great... No, wait... This is terrible... I've been expelled too!"
He was so excited that he grabbed her shoulders, his emerald-green eyes brimming with tears, and his words became a jumbled mess:
"I thought nothing could be worse than that... but it turns out it's a reward... No, I mean, seeing you is great!"
Jane gave him a sincere smile in return, for the Harry in front of her exuded an irresistible aura of gaming console temptation:
"Let's not talk about that... Did you bring a gaming console, Harry? Or novels, storybooks? If not, wizard chess or Gobstones would do. Even your Muggle chess set would be fine."
For the first time in years, she felt that the Chosen One truly lived up to his title.
But Harry shook his head, indicating that he couldn't help:
"Umbridge has banned all forms of entertainment. Clubs have been disbanded, and gaming consoles confiscated."
"I don't read novels, and I left my wizard chess and Gobstones with Ron... My Muggle chess set is with Malfoy, so I have nothing."
Jane's smile instantly vanished. She flopped back into her chair, covering her face with a textbook.
Deprived of entertainment, she immediately lost the desire to continue conversing with Harry. Her whole demeanor screamed resignation and defeat.
The only one not resigned was Phineas Nigellus Black, whose poor sleep quality meant he was once again startled awake. Upon seeing Harry being thrown into the headmaster's office, he exclaimed:
"Another one! Another one! The Potter boy has been expelled! How much useless food has Sirius consumed? What a disgrace!"
"Why don't you go visit him?" Jane said lazily. "I'm about to get depressed staying in this godforsaken place."
In truth, Phineas's daily shouting was more depressing than anything else.
With his innate confidence, she often felt like asking him for a tutorial on self-assurance.
It wasn't just her; many headmasters would cover their ears when he spoke and plead with her to turn his portrait to face the wall for reflection.
Phineas continued his tirade:
"Did he even try? Why hasn't he drowned Umbridge in the Black Lake? What a useless boy!"
He abruptly disappeared from his portrait, likely heading to 12 Grimmauld Place to unleash his fury.
Watching Phineas vanish from the frame, Harry quickly realized he was the bridge between Jane and Sirius—
The only way to relay what was happening at school to the outside world!
He spun around, staring at Jane, who was lounging in her chair, with a look of shock—
Could this... be her plan all along?
He had thought she was running around outside the school, but it turned out she didn't need to leave at all to arrange everything?
A master strategist, orchestrating everything from behind the scenes!
He understood now—true experts operated this way—
They didn't need to act personally; a mere gesture was enough to set others in motion.
As he pondered this, Phineas returned, still ranting, but this time his ire was directed at Harry.
"Useless Potter boy! I never thought a student could be this foolish. You're as idiotic as your godfather! Gryffindors—always causing trouble!"
Unjustly scolded by his godfather's ancestor and insulted for his house, Harry felt utterly wronged. He looked to Jane for help, only to find her watching Phineas's rage with amusement, as if she were enjoying a Muggle soap opera. She gestured for him to keep listening.
"My good-for-nothing descendant asked me to ask you—why have you never used the two-way mirror to contact him? Did Gryffindor teach you nothing but how to smile stupidly at Umbridge? Do you even know what a two-way mirror is or how to use it?"
Jane strongly suspected that Phineas had added a lot of personal grievances, as Sirius would never speak to Harry like that.
"What?" Harry stammered. "I didn't know? What mirror? There was a wrapped package in my luggage, and he said to use it when I needed him—I didn't want to worry him, so I forgot about it. But now I really need him."
He hurriedly opened his trunk, dug to the bottom, and unwrapped the package, revealing a mirror.
"A two-way mirror," Jane explained. "A magical device for 1v1 real-time video communication. Just call Sirius's name."
Sirius's face appeared in the mirror, and the godfather and godson had a heartfelt reunion, exchanging concerns and catching up. Phineas, watching this display, grimaced and muttered about the foolishness of Gryffindors.
"How's Jane? Is she okay?" Sirius asked loudly from the mirror. "Harry, it's my fault for not explaining how to use the mirror, leaving her to beg that insufferable ancestor of mine to relay messages! Phineas was the least popular headmaster in Hogwarts history—mean, prejudiced, and insufferably arrogant! I can't imagine how much she's suffered under him!"
"Shut up!" Phineas roared, his face turning red. "You ungrateful descendant! How dare you badmouth your ancestor behind his back? Now that you have the mirror, you don't need me anymore? Ungrateful wretch!"
Phineas was so furious that his wrinkled hand pointed accusingly at Sirius through the mirror, his goat-like beard trembling with rage. He could barely string his words together:
"You—you—how dare you, you brat—"
"You lied to me! You deceived me! You tricked me into running errands for you! I serve the headmasters, not some expelled student... This is not my duty!"
The other headmasters in their portraits were now fully awake, whispering among themselves and even chuckling softly.
Each of them leaned forward, tilting their heads to get a better look at Phineas's expression. It seemed that watching Phineas lose his composure was one of the few sources of entertainment in their otherwise monotonous posthumous existence.
"I never told a single lie," Jane said, her expression sincere. "And besides, you were the one who started insulting me first. I never insulted you back. I've always respected the autonomy of the elderly."
Phineas trembled as if all his strength had been drained. He stopped shouting, his confidence shattered. He turned his back to her, bending over so low that his head nearly touched his knees, adopting a turtle-like posture of self-imposed isolation.
Having been dead for so many years, his AI-generated persona had finally paid the price for his overconfidence.
But his predecessors and colleagues—especially the gossip-loving witch—were not about to let him off so easily.
The witch winked at Jane and gave her a thumbs-up before leaning into Phineas's frame and teasing him:
"Are you crying? Did you cry? Are you really crying?"
Jane suddenly realized that the other headmasters had probably known all along what the "most unpopular" list truly represented. Yet none of them had informed Phineas, all waiting to witness this spectacle.
Several headmasters even leaned into his frame, trying to get a closer look at his expression.
To be honest, having such poor posthumous relationships that even in death no one stood by him—
It was no wonder Phineas Nigellus Black was the most unpopular headmaster in Hogwarts history.
"Look on the bright side," Jane said, feeling a rare pang of sympathy. "Maybe this time you won't make it onto that list. After all, you've made a significant contribution by helping students relay messages. I think people will appreciate you for that."
But Phineas Nigellus Black only grew angrier. He spun around suddenly, shoving aside the other headmasters in his frame. His face was flushed, and he shouted with a strained neck:
"No! Don't say that! You little brat, what do you know? I want to be number one on that list!"
"I'm telling you, bad publicity is still publicity! I want to be the most unpopular headmaster this school has ever seen! My reputation must echo far and wide among the students!"
With tears welling up in his eyes, he disappeared from his portrait, presumably retreating to his room at 12 Grimmauld Place to cry.
Sirius and Harry, still staring at the two-way mirror, were left speechless by Jane's antics—
"This… So this is the legacy my ancestor is so proud of?" Sirius muttered. "Jane, I have to hand it to you. You're incredible… You even managed to manipulate him into working for you, and now you've made him cry. You're a genius… You've done brilliantly... When will you figure out how to make my mother cry too?"
Jane frowned.
This had nothing to do with her; it was entirely Phineas's own overconfidence.
Who would have thought that while everyone knew he ranked high on the "most unpopular" list, he himself believed he was on the "most influential" list?
Phineas Nigellus Black—what place did he think he held compared to the four founders of Hogwarts?
Such unshakable confidence and a spirit free from self-doubt—no matter how many tutorials he published, the average person could never hope to emulate him.
But Harry's gaze toward Jane grew increasingly peculiar. The Chosen One, known for his vivid imagination, couldn't help but connect some dots—
Like the recent, bizarre activities of Slytherin students.
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