Chapter 75 — Conversations
"Hmm. Confirmed. The portrait itself is quite old, but the enchantments laid on it are recent and bear a clear impression of Mr Black's magic. I believe our suspicions regarding his involvement in the incident were unfounded."
"Wonderful!"
Flitwick was visibly relieved.
"Miss Clearwater's name can be cleared as well. She was with me at the time. Helena can confirm that, as she was present."
"Very good."
Dumbledore nodded.
"Mr Black, would you be able to create portraits of the other Founders?"
McGonagall asked this, and I simply gave a slight smile.
"I could. But at the moment, I have no interest in doing so."
"Mr Black, I understand that my daughter made a mistake in not telling you that she no longer knew where the item was — the item for which you helped her create my portrait. But her friends and mine are not to blame for that."
I merely shrugged at Rowena's words.
Did I understand that this was foolish and deeply shortsighted on my part?
Absolutely. But I could not bring myself to do anything about it — or rather, I did not want to.
"Mr Black—"
"Professor, the other portraits would cost far too much. And given that the other Founders have no children here who could help direct the ritual, it would cost considerably more than Lady Ravenclaw's did. Are you quite certain you wish to part with a few hundred thousand Galleons for a founder's portrait?"
"Kh—kh—kh—"
Everyone around me erupted in coughing.
"A few hundred thousand?"
The looks directed at Rowena's portrait shifted noticeably.
"No. This portrait came to roughly five thousand gold coins. But as I said, I had a very convenient factor in the form of Helena. The other Founders have no such thing, and so—"
I shrugged. In truth, portraits of the other Founders ought to cost considerably less — assuming everything went smoothly — but I had decided to quote the upper ceiling straight away.
"Right, then. Mr Black, I believe you are free to go for the moment. We have a few more students to speak with."
"As you wish."
I shrugged carelessly, turned, and walked towards the door.
"Mr Black, I would like to speak with you. Later."
"Perhaps."
I did not look back.
"But not any time soon."
The Headmaster's office.
The door closed behind Draco Black, and everyone turned from it to look at Rowena Ravenclaw, who now hung on the wall beside the other former Heads.
"Youth."
Flitwick did his best to offer some defence of his student.
"Please do not trouble yourselves. I hold no grievance against young Black. He is young and does not always act wisely — I quite understand."
"Thank you, Lady Ravenclaw. Allow me to introduce myself — my name is Filius Flitwick. I am Professor of Charms and Enchantments, I run the Duelling Club, and I serve as Head of Ravenclaw House."
Rowena nodded, studying the half-goblin.
"In which fields do you hold mastery?"
"Charms and Enchantments, and Duelling — those are the ones I have formally certified through the Guilds. I am also effectively at master level in Numerology and Arithmancy, but I have not seen fit to pursue formal certification in those."
"Very well. Master in four fields — that is commendable. But all your titles should be formally certified. The Head of my house ought to demonstrate to everyone that he is both a learned and a capable wizard."
"I... will give it some thought."
Flitwick replied with as much diplomacy as he could muster.
"Good. Now, if it would not be too much trouble, I would ask to be returned to where I was. My daughter may become rather distressed if she comes looking for me and finds me gone."
"We could let her know where you are now."
McGonagall offered this.
"There is no need."
Rowena shook her head.
"Ahem. I sense we have displeased you, though I am not entirely sure how — we have only just met."
Dumbledore said this with a note of uncertainty.
"You know... I am only a portrait."
Rowena looked at the Headmaster, then let her gaze drift around the room, as though glancing at the other pictures — though they were outside her field of view.
"But I do have my pride. And sitting in company with those who have allowed my school to fall into ruin—"
"I beg your pardon! The school is flourishing!"
McGonagall took strong exception to this slight against the Hogwarts administration and actually interrupted the Founder, at which Rowena winced with theatrical displeasure.
"Is it? I have spoken with my daughter. Sorting students into houses based on personality traits — that is simply absurd, and that alone was nearly enough to make me regret raising the subject at all. But when I learned that out of nearly thirty compulsory subjects, fewer than a third remain—"
She shook her head.
"This is no longer a school. I am not quite sure what it is."
"But the knowledge taught in your time has been declared illegal—"
Dumbledore sounded genuinely at a loss.
"Ah, yes — and that is yet another grievance to lay at the feet of every Headmaster who has held this office. You have surrendered Hogwarts's extraterritoriality. In the old days, only the Headmaster or the Founders' Council decided what was taught and when. Now that is in the hands of a collection of bureaucrats." She paused. "In any case — please return me to my place."
"Lika."
When the house-elf appeared before him, Dumbledore continued.
"Would you please take Lady Ravenclaw's portrait back to where you found it."
Lika took the portrait and vanished. The staff were left in thought. If Rowena Ravenclaw — widely regarded as the most composed of all four Founders — had reacted to the current state of affairs this way, how would the others take it?
End.
"Mr Filch."
I saw no reason to delay, and went directly from the Headmaster's office to find the caretaker.
"Hm. You."
"Yes. I came to see how you are getting on."
"Bloody awful, boy."
Filch shook his head.
"Do not know who did this to my Mrs Norris, but I will find the little wretch and sort them out myself."
"What are people saying?"
"Saying?"
A sad, hollow smile crossed Filch's face.
"Saying I need a mature Mandrake — but I have not the money for one, and the ones in the greenhouses will not be ready until spring. My little cat will be stuck like that all that time."
"Well, I can help with the Mandrake."
I shrugged.
"And with whatever else is needed."
"Boy."
Filch stared at me.
"Let us do it this way — you find out the full list of ingredients needed to bring your cat round and get her back to catching troublemakers, and I will purchase everything on it."
"Boy, I already told you — I have not got that kind of money—"
"You will not need it."
I shook my head.
"I have a great deal of respect for you. You have worked in this castle for years and you do your job well. And I particularly appreciate the way you play the deranged old man when you are hauling rule-breakers to their Heads of house — telling them all about how students used to be punished in the old days."
I gave an appreciative click of the tongue.
"It is masterful. By the time they reach the Head's office they are so terrified that whatever punishment they actually receive feels like a gift from heaven."
Filch gave a smile — not a happy one exactly, but grateful, in the way of a man whose work has been properly acknowledged.
"So — find out the full list and let me know. I will come back tomorrow evening for it. Agreed?"
"Yes."
He nodded, and I left him in a considerably less wretched mood than I had found him. My own mood was somewhere in the middle of grim, because I now needed to find whoever had done this. That said, finding them was not terribly complicated — I simply needed to prepare.
Going down to the Basilisk myself was something I still very much wanted to avoid. My plan, then, was to place a few monitoring charms on Moaning Myrtle's bathroom — ones that would report back to me whenever anyone entered — along with a couple of detection charms on the sink basin whose opening led to the Chamber of Secrets. The best possible outcome would be to learn when someone went down there, wait for them to come back up, release the Basilisk and seal the passage behind them, and then strike them from behind while they were off guard.
Yes. That was probably the cleanest solution.
The rest of the day passed in quiet thought and work.
"Draco."
I was about to leave my study when Helena came through the wall.
"What is it?"
I asked this with a heavy sigh, making it rather clear that the conversation was unwelcome and I was in a hurry.
"I... forgive me. I was truly afraid that if you knew the diadem had been taken, you would not help me. And it meant everything to me to be able to speak with my mother again."
I said nothing — just shrugged.
"Well, forgive me then — if you like, I will serve you for the rest of your days!"
She said that in a rush of feeling, and any self-inserted protagonist in my position would certainly have said yes, then found a way to restore her body, bound her in a servitude contract, and done something rather unsavoury with the arrangement. That held absolutely no interest for me.
"I heard you. I do not need that. Now please leave me in peace."
Helena bowed her head and slipped into the wall. I made my way to the Great Hall, settled in with my friends, and got on with eating.
"So then. How was everyone's day?"
"Fine."
Everyone gave roughly the same answer with roughly the same shrug.
"Though I did hear something strange."
"Did you? What?"
Daphne put the question to Tracy, who had raised the subject.
"Ahem. There are rumours going around that... that Draco is the Heir of Slytherin."
I could not help it — I burst out laughing.
"What exactly is funny about that?"
"Well — to start with, by the same logic you could be the Heir, since one of your parents is a wizard. Or it could be a Muggle-born student whose parents are Squibs who do not even know it, with Salazar somewhere far back in the line."
I shrugged, keeping my voice light.
"And as for the pureblood families — how many times have we all crossed bloodlines over the centuries? Harry could be the Heir. Bones could be. Ginny, even."
Everyone stared at me.
"In short — there are a great many possibilities, and simply throwing the idea at someone without anything behind it—"
"Well, the rumour did not come from nowhere. Whoever started it pointed out that you were not at the feast. So you had no alibi."
Tracy was frowning at me.
"The Headmaster and the staff thought the same thing — but I demonstrated quite clearly that I did have one. That was this very morning. All suspicion has been lifted."
"Oh. Right."
"Who was spreading it around, anyway?"
"Six, apparently."
Tracy gave a careless shrug.
"Ron?"
Ginny frowned slightly and glanced over her shoulder at the Gryffindor table, where the walking food-disposal unit that was her sixth-born brother sat in his natural habitat.
"Why cannot he just leave it alone?"
"Oh, come on."
I shook my head.
"He is being positively restrained. Last year he was actually making trouble — this is practically nothing."
I waved a hand as if to say there was genuinely nothing here worth our attention.
"But he is not talking to me either! Demonstrably! And he is my brother! I love the idiot!"
"You said it yourself — he is an idiot."
Harry put a hand on Ginny's shoulder in an attempt to settle her.
"The Wrackspurts have simply got into his ears and softened his brain. That is why he is behaving so badly."
"Softened his what?"
Parvati and Padma exchanged a glance and then looked in puzzlement at Luna, who had delivered this line.
"His brain."
"Luna, my brother was born without one. He only uses his head for eating. He does not even wear a hat."
Ginny shook her head, and I gave a quiet smile. It seemed I had chosen my friends well. Not one of them had believed for a second that I could be the Heir — or if any of them had, they gave nothing away. That was as it should be.
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