Chapter 314: Conversation with Hope
Phineas took the two documents from Puff's hands and handed them to Hope.
"These are official reports—one from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and the other from a Muggle identification center. I must apologize to you, Hope. In order to confirm your identity, I asked Puff, my house-elf, to collect a strand of your hair without your knowledge."
Hope, slightly confused, examined the two documents closely.
Phineas continued, "There are things I can only tell you after your identity is confirmed. You now face a choice: accept who you truly are and uncover a deeper side of our world—or reject this and pretend none of it ever happened. Of course, on a personal note, I hope you choose to accept it."
Hope set the papers down, looked at him carefully, and asked, "How do I know you didn't fabricate these with magic?"
Phineas smiled and retrieved another item from Puff, handing it to Hope. "This is Sirius Black's hair. You can verify it through a Muggle lab or a magical institution. Though, I strongly advise against going to a magical hospital—especially one in France."
"Why?" Hope paused, then added, "Forget it. I suppose to understand any of this, I'd have to accept what you're saying. But why should I? I'm nearly an adult in the wizarding world, about to graduate from Beauxbatons. I can work and live on my own. Why should I acknowledge someone I've never even met—someone suddenly claiming to be my father?"
She placed the documents on the table and fixed her gaze on Phineas. "Wouldn't anyone in my position feel the same?"
Phineas shook his head gently and met her eyes. "You're right that you're nearly an adult. Your grades are excellent. After graduation, you might even qualify for the revived Triwizard Tournament. But let me ask—do you truly understand the wizarding world? Have you truly chosen it? Or, like your mother Hayley, will you eventually abandon your wand and magic?"
Hope's expression hardened. "Don't speak of my mother."
Phineas continued." I'm shocked Hayley could give up magic, but it makes sense. She's hiding from my brother. If she uses magic, Blacks will find her. In fact, if she were in England, she'd be easier to locate."
Phineas hesitated, his voice laced with regret. "Even if she moved to France... if Sirius hadn't been imprisoned in Azkaban and I hadn't been left in the dark, I might've found you both long ago."
Hope opened her mouth to respond, but Phineas raised a hand to cut her off.
"Let's return to the real issue. After graduation, you'll need to work to support yourself. So, Hope—what are your plans?"
Hope was stunned. Weren't they talking about his background? Why had the conversation shifted to future plans? She wasn't sure if it was because the man in front of her was younger, which made her feel more at ease, or if it was truly, as the other claimed, the bond of blood between them that fostered a sense of closeness. Whatever the reason, Hope ended up sharing her plans.
"I want to work in the magical field. But what I really want... is to open a shop."
Phineas nodded thoughtfully. "In that case, let's not talk about the Ministry of Magic, let's talk about opening a store. Hope, what kind of store are you going to open?"
"A magical goods store," Hope replied. "Specializing in alchemical items. Alchemy is fascinating."
Phineas sighed. "It is. Let's talk about what you need to face if you want to open a shop. First of all, you need a shop. The price of buying or renting a shop in a hidden magical district is expensive, not to mention that you also need to prepare items to sell in the shop. In France, alchemy is a popular field. Most wizards can craft the basic magical artifacts themselves. You'd need to sell advanced artifacts, and you can't produce those alone."
He leaned forward. "So... do you have the funds?"
Hope shook her head. "I heard Gringotts provides loans for wizards—"
"Don't count on that," Phineas interrupted. "Gringotts doesn't lend to Muggle-borns. And even if they did, their terms would ruin you. You'd lose your shop, your assets, everything. Eventually, you'd become an indentured worker to repay your debts. They only offer decent terms to half-bloods and pure-bloods."
Hope's face darkened. "I've heard about blood status in the wizarding world. But... is it really this absolute?"
Phineas looked grave. "A thousand years ago, it was different. Back then, non-magical people were called 'Mabo'. Pure-bloods—except for certain families maintaining lineal purity—often married them. Mixed-blood children were often stronger. Mabo wizards were rare and seen as magical throwbacks to the earliest magical ancestors."
Hope was stunned. This was the first time she had heard of such things. Yet, it made sense. If all the pure-blooded families in the magical world advocated bloodline supremacy, how could they allow anything that might diminish their status—or worse, expose that their bloodline wasn't truly pure?
"But," Phineas continued, "as Squib populations grew and bloodlines diluted, pure-blood families created methods to purify their blood—under the guidance of the Council of Elders. That's when the bloodline ideology took root. 'Mabo' became 'Muggle', and the magic world began hiding behind purity."
In truth, there was another thing Finny hadn't mentioned: whether thousands of years ago or today, the elite Purebloods of the wizarding world—wizards from ancient magical families like the Blacks, Gaunts, Riches, Selwyns, Lestranges, Ollivanders, and longbottoms—were never inferior to Muggle-born wizards. In most cases, they were far stronger, for they had mastered the art of bloodline sublimation millennia ago.
Bloodlines were not a recent development but had existed since the very dawn of wizardkind. Indeed, the emergence of wizards themselves was the ultimate manifestation of this concept. Legends spoke of how the first wizards came to be by stealing the blood of the gods—a testament to the undeniable truth that divine blood would always surpass that of mere mortals.
From the perspective of a popular Muggle game like Dungeons & Dragons, wizards were akin to warlocks: their bloodline dictated their lower limit, and their growth and battles were ultimately about unlocking the latent power within their own veins.
This principle extended beyond magic, permeating both Muggle and wizarding societies alike. It wasn't that a butcher's child could only ever be a butcher—they might become a carpenter or a bricklayer—but their social stratum remained largely unchanged. Educational institutions had mitigated this to some degree, yet their impact was still limited. Some toiled tirelessly to reach Rome, while others were born there. There was no altering that reality. A butcher's son found it easier to follow in his father's footsteps, for he had his guidance and support. Conversely, a lawyer's child would struggle to become a butcher, not only lacking paternal instruction but facing societal pressure to uphold the family's legacy. Instead, by becoming a lawyer, they inherited not just better education but also invaluable connections. This was the essence of bloodline: it set the floor, while effort and ambition determined the ceiling. A butcher's descendant could ascend to the ranks of lawyers, but it would take generations of perseverance to shed the past and forge a new legacy.
Hope had yet to fully embrace her Black heritage, nor had she graduated. There was no need for her to confront the darkest facets of the wizarding world—or the world at large—so soon.
Finny's words left Hope silent. Though she hadn't yet stepped fully into wizarding society, her time at magic school had shown her the truth in his claims, even if she'd previously chosen to ignore it. The children of wizarding families invariably held an edge over Muggle-borns. After all, the latter faced strict limits on exchanging Galleons each year, and gold was the lifeblood of the wizarding world.
Phineas continued, his voice calm but unyielding, as if reciting an immutable law of nature.
"Since we're on the subject, let me deliver the harshest truth of all. In the wizarding world, Muggle-born wizards can do—and will only ever be allowed to do—one thing: remain employees. Whether it's in a magic shop, at Gringotts, or even within the Ministry of Magic, they will spend their entire lives as subordinates, never rising beyond that station."
"You might argue that some Muggle-born wizards possess exceptional talent, say, in potion-making. But here's the reality: even the most skilled among them will still end up as apprentices or low-ranking brewers, forever overshadowed. Why? Because they lack the mentorship of elite potion masters, the kind who only take on half-bloods or pure-bloods as true protégés. Meanwhile, a wizard born into even a disgraced pure-blood family will have doors opened for them—connections, apprenticeships, resources—all simply because of their name."
"This world, at its core, runs on lineage and favor. There are exceptions, of course. The children of Muggle-born wizards—those we call half-bloods—occupy a slightly higher rung. With their parents' accumulated knowledge and meager influence, they might scrape together enough to open a small shop or work as freelance potion-makers. But that's where the ladder ends for them. Unless..."
Finney paused, his gaze sharpening.
"Unless they marry into a pure-blood family and take that family's name. Only then will 80 percent of the wizarding world finally deign to acknowledge them. Only then will the gates of power creak open—not because they've earned it, but because they've been allowed in."
Hope sat back, stunned. Her voice trembled. "So... if I accept the Black name?"
Phineas smiled. "Then 99.9% of the magical world will welcome you. The rest? Controlled by an even higher echelon."
Hope blinked. "Why?"
"You're not just asking why you'd rise above others," he said gently. "You're asking why this world is built like this."
"The magical world hasn't changed for millennia," he said. "Muggles have eroded bloodline influence over time. Magic has not. In this world, bloodline means power. Bloodline is power. But even that power bows to absolute strength."
He let the words hang in the air before continuing.
"But accepting Black's name comes with conditions. You may finish your last year in France. But after graduation, you must return to Britain. You may travel, visit, even spend time abroad—but you can't live outside the UK permanently."
Hope didn't argue. She just looked at him—confused, overwhelmed, silent.
"Can I think about it?" she asked quietly.
Phineas nodded. "Of course. But do not tell anyone about your connection to Sirius Black. He's more important than you realize—and that means you are, too."
He stood.
"Three days. I'll return for your answer then."