Chapter 286: Richie and Black's Conflict
At the same time, the watching wizards realized how grave a mistake it had been to provoke Phineas Black in the first place.
Some even thought it might have been wiser to provoke Black instead of this madman.
Damon and a group of wizards dragged the Parkinson family out of the abandoned castle. At this point, Hector Parkinson and his daughter were barely conscious, their bodies limp, eyes rolling, and drool seeping from their mouths. Hector's face was covered in blood, most of it flowing from a gash on his forehead.
"It seems he begged you quite a bit," Phineas said with a smirk as he looked at Hector and turned to Damon.
Damon shrugged. "I wouldn't know, Master. I didn't participate."
Phineas frowned. "Damon, you should vent your frustrations more. Life's been hard on you these past few years."
Damon shook his head. "It's alright, young master. If I indulge too much, I'll lose my clarity. That would compromise the family's affairs."
Phineas didn't press the issue further. Instead, he turned to the kneeling wizards and instructed Damon, "I'm too lazy to search every manor individually. Lead your men to track down the rest of their families. Bring them back alive—I don't care what happens to them in the process. As for those from minor branches... kill them. I only want the ones responsible."
Damon and the captains behind him bowed, then led their squads to leave Parkinson Manor.
Phineas turned his eyes on the Parkinsons, who were utterly defeated.
"So boring," he muttered.
With a flick of his wand, a conjured blade swiftly beheaded all three.
Glancing at the chair Puff had brought for him, Phineas sighed. With a tap of his wand, the simple chair transformed into a regal throne. He sat upon it, satisfied.
"The House of Black has been silent too long," he thought. "The wizarding world of Britain has forgotten who its king is. It's time to remind them."
He waved Puff over.
"Puff, notify all pure-blood families across Britain. The House of Black is reconvening the British Pure-Blood Council. Any family that fails to attend will be treated as having declared war on us."
Just as Puff turned to leave, a voice interrupted.
"Phineas Black, you've gone too far."
Phineas looked toward the voice with interest. Several white-haired old men stood at the edge of the clearing. Some had long gray beards; others were clean-shaven.
"The Council of Elders," Phineas muttered.
He narrowed his eyes. He hadn't expected the Council to intervene.
"You wish to interfere in Black family business?" he asked coldly.
One elder stepped forward. "Of course not. But you've gone too far, Phineas. You wiped out an entire family, killed numerous wizards, and even a legendary wizard died. It's time to stop."
Phineas tilted his head, studying the man. "You're from the Richie family, aren't you?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, then scoffed.
"So, you've only just entered the legendary realm, and already you're misusing the Council's authority."
"You're disrespecting the Council of Elders!" the old man barked.
Phineas grinned. "Really? Are you sure the full Council supports your intervention? Remember, the Richie family isn't the only one with elders."
Suddenly, swirling vortexes opened around Phineas, revealing the shadows of wizards—each exuding an overwhelming aura.
The Richie elders' expressions darkened.
"The Black elders? You left your stronghold just for this? Aren't you afraid the Richie family will attack your manor?"
One Black elder chuckled. "You're a fool. Our base was never that manor. We only care about Phineas now. So long as he lives, we'll let you take the manor if you want. But tell me—have you secured the Council's approval? Or are you declaring war on Black?"
The Richie elder went pale. He didn't dare challenge the Black family elders. Many weren't even on the Council, yet their opinions still swayed it due to their numbers and influence.
Although the House of Black had shrunk, it was once vast—dozens in each generation, with even more spread across the globe.
The attacker behind Sirius's injury was still unknown. Phineas had blamed Voldemort out of courtesy to the Council of Elders. Whether they were involved or not, they were content to let Voldemort take the fall. Now Phineas sought revenge, and the Council wouldn't stop him.
But the Richie family couldn't sit idle. The families Phineas destroyed had been their puppets in the UK. If they lost those, they would forfeit decades of work after sacrificing their Italian influence.
That fear drove the Richie elders to interfere, hoping to reclaim losses—or at least be compensated.
But no one expected the Black elders to intervene.
Now, it had escalated into a family war.
"Phineas Black went too far!" the Richie elder snapped. "Why shouldn't we intervene? Or are you Blacks planning to ignore the rules of the Council?"
A Black elder sneered. "These families attacked the heir of the House of Black. Whether under the Pureblood Code or Council law, it's a declaration of war. Phineas merely responded accordingly. Family wars are to the death—no survivors. And now, I strongly suspect the Richie family orchestrated the attack on our heir. I'll bring this before the full Council and demand a formal trial."
The Richie elder was stunned. He wasn't a strategist—his brilliance lay in magical research. Otherwise, he wouldn't have achieved legendary status. But now, he had been outmaneuvered.
With a cold huff, he led his people away from Parkinson Manor.
Once they were gone, a Black elder smiled at Phineas.
"Kid, just do what you must. Leave the Council to us."
He turned to the others. "Old friends, shall we pay the Council a visit? Time to put some pressure on those fossils."
"Absolutely," another replied.
The elders departed, laughing together.
Phineas shook his head in disbelief. A simple act of vengeance had stirred so many legendary figures.
Once they were gone, he called to Puff.
"Go do what I asked earlier."
Soon after, Damon returned.
"Master, everyone involved is accounted for—except Walton McNeill who works at the Ministry."
Phineas scanned the group. Even young Goyle and Crabbe, who should have been at Hogwarts, were present.
"Execute them. Leave their heads at Lisa's grave."
Damon nodded. White lights flickered one by one—each a life extinguished.
Phineas looked at the scene in front of him and narrowed his eyes slightly, because he found that the souls of these wizards did not go to the underworld, but stayed here.
"Still clinging on?" he murmured.
He retrieved the Soul Stone from his robes and channeled his magic into it. The red gem pulsed, drawing in the souls. Its hue deepened, becoming a mesmerizing crimson.
Yet one soul was missing.
Voldemort.
Not even a fragment remained.
That was impossible.
Phineas had killed him himself. Nagini too. Even if Voldemort escaped, the Horcrux in Nagini should have left a trace.
Unless...
Voldemort had faked his death.
Or perhaps Nagini wasn't a Horcrux at all—and another remains, anchoring his soul.
If so, Voldemort's threat hadn't been extinguished.
Phineas's thoughts churned. Still, Voldemort's plans had clearly been disrupted. His resurrection wouldn't be so simple next time.
Phineas resolved to investigate the soul fragment in Harry Potter. It might be the key to tracking Voldemort.
He made a mental note to prioritize this once he returned to Hogwarts.
Time passed.
No visitors came.
Phineas grew irritated.
"Puff, were my messages delivered?"
"Yes, Master," Puff replied, bowing. "Everything is prepared."
Phineas sighed. "Seems they've truly forgotten Black's legacy. Damon!"
Damon stepped forward.
"Track all Richie family members in Britain. Launch a full commercial war. We lack cause for direct action, so we'll crush them economically."
Damon bowed and gave the order.
Phineas turned to the others.
"Rest up. Tomorrow, return to the old manor for Lisa's funeral."
Then, he departed with Puff.
---
The Next Day
Lisa's funeral was held with great pomp.
Thousands of wizards under Phineas attended. So did managers from Black family enterprises—including Gringotts—and nearly every pure-blood patriarch.
Even Dumbledore and McGonagall were present.
Phineas didn't approach Dumbledore. The Headmaster looked at him with something unspoken in his eyes.
Fear.
Phineas understood.
After all, he had just annihilated four pure-blood families because his brother was attacked.
And he had slain Voldemort.
Such deeds chilled even the boldest hearts.
Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, was also there—face pale.