Dumbledore had been trying to take back control of the seats. It was near impossible now seeing as the majority of his power was stripped away and pulled into the dogs' hands. He had tried his best to keep the two away from claiming their titles, but that brat had convinced them! He knew everything that he had worked so hard to build and grow was falling apart, and it was all thanks to that brat!
"Why! Why is this happening! He should've been abused! Helpless! I should've been seen as his savior! He should be on my side! My lamb!" He shouted, ranting to the paintings.
They all just gleamed at him with barely concealed hatred and disappointment, but there was glee in their painted eyes. They could see himself unraveling, every perfected facade fading and dying. Then they frowned.
The crazed man that the old wizard was becoming disappeared. No, he didn't just collect himself for a public viewing. No, he had a plan. A new plan that they were sure they'd hate even more than the last one.
His blue eyes glared at Phineas, the one painting who looked the most pleased. The one painting that could warn and communicate with the Blacks because of the portrait he had put in one of his homes. A home he couldn't enter into and silence without suspicion.
"Speak." The man spoke haughtily, as if he believed himself a king. He most likely did, after all he claimed the Elder Wand! He had everything planned, right down to his faking his own death to truly kill Harry Potter.
"You'll fall. If that boy is as much a Black as he is a Potter, you won't survive." Phineas hummed, pure pride in his voice.
The old Headmaster believed it fully as well. He was positive that the boy had more plans than someone would've thought necessary. Or, at the bare minimum that the boy was very good at winging it. Either way, he was sure the boy would make all of his ancestors proud.
Dumbledore hummed, slowly moving around and sitting at his desk. He needed to do something about the boy. He knew he couldn't keep Remus or Severus as the Defense Against Dark Arts teachers. They were too good, breaking away what control he had of the students' minds. Then there was Harry's friendship with the top students of every House. It didn't matter if some of them were Muggle-Raised, he was their friend. Course he had his close-knit friend group, but that boy had charm that could rival Tom's in some ways.
He drummed his fingers against the wood of his desk, thinking deeply about his plans. He then grinned darkly, his eyes holding a twisted twinkle in his eyes. Humming merrily, he stood up and went to the hidden room where the chained man was currently sleeping in. With a swift kick to the man's gut woke him.
"I see you have a plan." He groaned, shifting a little to not be curled around his bruising stomach. He would have to be on bedrest once he is freed.
"Does it work?" Came a hissed response. He had no time or patient for games. Not for his prisoner's games anyway.
The chained man closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. He didn't say anything for a few long minutes. Long enough that the horribly dressed Wizard contemplated kicking him once more.
"It does."
That was all the arrogant wizard needed, slamming the door behind him. He didn't notice that there was a smirk on his captive's face nor how they had finished their sentence with a chilling hatred.
"But it'll only last till the Slytherin Lord is revived."