12 Grimmauld Place, the Black Ancestral Home.
"What are you doing here!?"
Lucien followed the voice to a portrait hanging on the wall. The frame that had been empty now held a "familiar face" he had seen in the Hogwarts Headmaster's office.
"Oh, good evening, former Headmaster Phineas."
Phineas Nigellus Black, with his pointed goatee, stared at them in shock and fury. His mouth hung open as though he meant to swallow the intruders whole.
"What's good about it? Why are you in my house?"
Like the other portraits, Phineas could move freely between his frames.
One hung in the Hogwarts Headmaster's office, and several hung here in the Black Ancestral Home.
He wandered back and forth whenever he pleased, looking around here, taking a stroll there.
He had come home for a look around today, as usual. He had never expected to find a Hogwarts student here.
Phineas narrowed his eyes and studied Lucien carefully. Then his expression changed, as if something had suddenly come back to him.
"Aha!" His voice climbed into a shrill squeak. "I knew it the moment you enrolled! You wicked little brat! You've had your eye on the Black family treasure, haven't you? You came to steal it in the middle of the night, and I caught you! I'll tell Dumbledore when I get back. Just you wait—you'll be expelled!"
The more he spoke, the more convinced he became. His goatee bobbed with every word.
"And this one beside you—" He looked at the tall man with tangled hair and ragged clothes, his face twisting with distaste. "Is this filthy-looking tramp your accomplice?"
Sirius Black pointed straight at his great-great-grandfather's portrait and shot back without a trace of restraint.
"You're the tramp! Oh, no, my mistake. You're the least popular headmaster in Hogwarts history."