Author's Note: This is my submission for the Diagon Alley II's Halloween Event: The Walls Have Eyes Competition, a story told from the point of view of the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. Hope you like it!

The Rise and Fall of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

When the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black was hung in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the shadow of the former Headmaster was bitter. He hadn't even wanted to be Headmaster of the school when his wife, Ursula, had pressured him into the role. He had never cared much for children, even when his own had been growing up. Now, in his passing, his portrait was hung with the expectation that he would give all future Headmasters advice on how they should run the school.

Was it too much to expect a bit of peace now that he was dead?

For the first couple years, Phineas Nigellus spent as much time as he could in his portrait at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. At the time of his death, his grandson had just taken over the household along with his wife. Arcturus and Melania Black were both good and proper people, excellent representations of the Black family values. However, when they had children just after Phineas Nigellus' portrait was hung in 1925, he found that his retreat to his family home was less than ideal for him. At least the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts was free of screaming babies.

So, he reluctantly started spending more time in the Headmaster's office, battered into giving each of the Headmasters advice now and again, usually by the other portraits who seemed annoyingly eager to do each of the successors' bidding. Even when he did voice his opinion, it wasn't as if any of the Headmasters ever listened to him anyway. But he contented himself to saying whatever he pleased, finding that he simply couldn't be bothered with concern over offending the delicate egos of those who passed through the office.

Phineas Nigellus watched the members of his extended family pass through the school. He did like to keep track of them, as they did represent his legacy after all. He was proud of those relatives of his that kept up their family traditions. But he found it increasingly disturbing how many of his blood relations strayed from what was expected of a respectable member of the Black family.

And then came along Sirius Black III.

He remembered the day that Orion Black had come to his portrait to ask permission to name his first born son Sirius. It wasn't something that was normally done, as the family names were encouraged to be used over and over throughout the generations. But the family did know what that name represented to Phineas Nigellus, even if he would never outright admit to feeling sentimental over it.

In all honestly, Phineas Nigellus almost refused the request. He wasn't impressed by the recent generations on the Black family tree, knowing how many names had to be cleared off of it for being unworthy of the Black family name. The idea that a member of the family named after his beloved brother, who had been taken from him at such a young age might, sully the name was enough to cause Phineas Nigellus to hesitate. In the end, though, he had agreed, knowing that the name hadn't been used since he named his own son in honor of his lost brother and realizing that it was bound to come around again anyway. He had posed the stipulation that Orion and his wife not stop at one child though. It was always prudent to have a spare when it came to the heir of the family.

He had caught glimpses of the child as he grew up in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Sirius often liked to cause trouble, but with the strict guidance of his parents, he seemed to be growing up to be a fine representation of the House of Black. He was certainly not a squib like Phineas Nigellus' great-grandson, Marius Black, had been. And Phineas Nigellus was pleased to see his parents use strong discipline in order to lead him on the correct path. All in all, it seemed like he would turn out just fine.

Then, he went to Hogwarts.

To say that Phineas Nigellus had been shocked to hear that his great-great-grandson had been sorted into Gryffindor of all Houses would have been a gross understatement. Such shame brought to the family by the heir that had been named after Phineas Nigellus' beloved brother. It was as good as an insult not only to the family, but to him personally. He had fled to his portrait at Grimmauld Place that night to inform Sirius' parents, finding comfort in the fact that they were just as livid by this development.

Several days after the start of school, young Sirius was brought into the Headmaster's office for fighting with a group of older Slytherins in the corridors. Part of Phineas Nigellus had been a little proud that his great-great-grandson wasn't afraid to take on older students. But mostly he was furious.

"How dare you sully your family name by being Sorted into Gryffindor?" Phineas Nigellus had demanded upon seeing the boy sitting in the Headmaster's office, a little banged up and bloody.

Sirius had glared up at the portrait. "Don't look at me," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "That stupid hat Sorted me."

"Albus, surely there's been a mistake," Phineas Nigellus had declared, shifting his gaze to the current Headmaster. "Let the Sorting Hat have another look. I'm sure it'll make the right decision this time around."

"The Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes," Albus Dumbledore had told him patiently.

Phineas Nigellus shorted. "Of course it does. Generations of Blacks have all been Sorted exclusively into Slytherin. That has to be taken into account by that pompous excuse for a head adornment."

Sirius laughed derisively at that, a harsh noise that didn't flatter the boy. "Generations of Black all Sorted into Slytherin?" he said mockingly. "Tell that to my Great-Uncle Marius. Being a squib, he wasn't Sorted at all."

"Watch your tongue, boy," Phineas Nigellus hissed. "That was a small blemish in an otherwise pristine line of respectable witches and wizards. Is that what you want to be? A blemish?"

Sirius gave Phineas Nigellus a mischievous smirk. "Didn't your sister marry a Muggle?"

"That's it!" Phineas Nigellus raged, lunging at the front of his painting as if he could leap out and become a flesh and blood person again through sheer force of will. "I hereby expel you from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you ungrateful brat!"

"Phineas, you do not have that authority," Albus said mildly. Phineas Nigellus fumed at that. "Why don't you visit your portrait in Grimmauld Place so that I might have a conversation with young Mr. Black here."

Phineas Nigellus had rolled his eyes in annoyance. Usually, the Headmasters were trying to get him to stay in his portrait. Yet, here was this Headmaster suggesting he leave. That was definitely a first. He made no effort in hiding his annoyance as he left his portrait in a huff. But in the darkness between portraits, a small voice met his ears.

"You see? You see what my family thinks of me now?"

Phineas Nigellus hadn't recognized the fear that had been barely audible in the eleven year old's voice. He had only been focused on the words, letting himself hope that perhaps his great-great-grandson had seen the error of his ways and would repent. Little did he know at the time, he had meant quite the opposite.

Over the years, Phineas Nigellus kept a close eye on young Sirius. That wasn't very hard to do, considering the number of times he landed himself in the Headmaster's office for all the trouble he and his friends caused around school. Phineas Nigellus couldn't deny that some of the pranks he pulled were amusing and he showed an impressive amount of skill and intelligence with some of the feats that he displayed, but the amount of disregard he showed for the family ways was deeply disturbing. As time went on though, Sirius began refusing to meet the Headmaster in his office, claiming that he would not discuss his behavior in front of a portrait that would run right to his parents with all his wrongdoings.

"I'm just trying to look out for the boy," Phineas Nigellus huffed when Dumbledore tried to discuss this issue with him. "Someone needs to keep his poor parents apprised of the situation. That boy is heading down a bad path and nothing good will come of him if he doesn't change his ways."

"I think it should be up to him what kind of path he wants to take," Albus pointed out.

Phineas Nigellus snorted loudly and rolled his eyes. "And therein lies the flaw in your entire strategy as a Headmaster of this school."

In the end, he had finally agreed to stop passing information to Orion and Walburga. He figured it was worth the sacrifice if he was allowed to keep an eye on their son.

So, Phineas Nigellus became a relatively quiet spectator to the life of Sirius Orion Black. He watched him on the many occasions he was brought into the Headmaster's office for various infractions to the school rules. He watched a fifteen year old Sirius in the Headmasters office in tears because of a mistake he had made involving a Slytherin student and his werewolf friend. He listened to a fight between the sixteen year old in his mother in Grimmauld Place, driving him out of the house and driving Walburga to blast his name off of the family tapestry. He had unemotionally delivered this news to a concerned looking Dumbledore. And yet, even after he was disowned, Phineas Nigellus continued to watch him grow, at least while he was still in Hogwarts. He watched the maturity that overtook him and his friends in their seventh year and knew that they would be joining Albus Dumbledore in his fight against Voldemort. Phineas Nigellus was appalled at this foolish decision, convinced that this would be what would lead to Sirius Black's demise.

And then, Regulus Black was killed.

It wasn't the Order of the Phoenix who killed him, but rather the rumor was that he was killed on Voldemort's order. And with that, the Black family name was put in jeopardy, boarding on extinction. Phineas Nigellus could hardly believe that now the entirety of the Black family name rested with a disowned member of the family. His family had fallen far in these recent generations.

So, when he appeared in his portrait in the Headmaster's office after having retreated to Grimmauld Place for several weeks – if he was being honest, he had been hoping that his great-great-grandson might show up to check on his widowed mother – to find Sirius' werewolf friend sitting in the office looking utterly devastated, Phineas Nigellus took notice.

"It… it just can't be true, Professor," Remus was saying, his voice shaking.

"I am sorry, Mr. Lupin," Albus said quietly, looking over at the man sympathetically. "James and Lily… they were both killed by Voldemort himself last night. And considering Mr. Black was their Secret-Keeper… as well as what happened when Mr. Pettigrew confronted him…"

"But… but perhaps if we talking to him… perhaps there's some sort of explanation…"

"I am told Sirius is refusing to speak with authorities," Albus said quietly. "His sentence has already been declared. He will be taken to Azkaban in the morning to serve a life sentence."

Remus took in a shuttering breath. He had a painfully empty look to him, as if absolutely everything had been taken from him. Phineas Nigellus thought that was a bit presumptuous. For it was he who had just lost the final male member of his family as he was shipped off to Azkaban for the rest of his life. What would become of the Black family name now?

Twelve years later, there were few more shocked than Phineas Nigellus when he learned that his great-great-grandson had escaped a prison that had been supposedly impenetrable. And if he were being honest with himself, he'd be forced to admit that he was impressed with Sirius' cunning at achieving such a feat.

For an immortal painting, the next three years passed in the blink of an eye. The heir to his family got involved in the war once again. He made questionable decisions and spent his time with questionable company. In all these years, he really hadn't changed at all. But he was the heir to the family – disowned by his mother or not – and the fact that he had the opportunity to continue their family line seemed to be enough.

Then, the unthinkable happened. From a conversation between Albus and Harry Potter, Phineas Nigellus found out that Sirius Black was killed by Voldemort's followers.

Phineas Nigellus had been in denial when he first heard the news. He hadn't even been able to really comprehend what Dumbledore was saying. It seemed unthinkable that the last of his family that bore the family name was dead. He had promptly marched back to his portrait in Grimmauld Place, fully expecting to find the last Black sulking in the house somewhere.

"Sirius!" he called, surveying the empty room with distaste. The place had really fallen in disrepair since the loss of its former occupants and hadn't been improved by the invasion of the Order. "Sirius! Abandon your self-pity for a moment. Albus seems to have his knickers backwards and you need to set him right. Sirius?"

It was strange. With his beloved friend's child at Hogwarts, Sirius tended to come running every time that Phineas Nigellus called for him. He gave him a moment, wondering if perhaps he had caught him while on the toilet.

"Sirius!" he called again. It was a heavy silence that followed, his voice echoing slightly in the empty house.

Even so, he wouldn't believe it. He carefully slid out of his portrait and moved throughout the house. He called his great-great-grandson's name over and over, but somewhere along way the way he almost forgot that's who he was looking for. He could see his brother again, eight years old and terribly sick. Phineas Nigellus had only be six at the time as he watched his older brother, the heir of the family, waste away. He had only been six when the fate of the family name had been passed to him.

It was several hours before he admitted defeat. He was acting like a child, he knew that and he detested that. The facts were clear and though he didn't always agree with Dumbledore, he knew the man would not lie about something like that. Slowly, Phineas Nigellus made his way back to his own portrait in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He seated himself back on the throne in his painting, overlooking a dead empire.

It was the end of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.