The Portrait Society
When I first heard of the idea Mr. Potter came up with I was appalled. I couldn't believe that after 75 years the ministry was finally going to do anything worth a damn for us. Let alone make a hall of fame that I could go in, along with all my portrait friends, whenever I wished. It really was a exciting time for some of the other Headmasters and Headmistress' but I had been talking to these people ever since I died, I wasn't sure what I would do when put into a situation where I could talk to other people like me. Other people that had died and had the horrible luck to be stuck in a frame.
I guess you could say I was afraid, the hall of fame would be a huge room with different sections and a lot of paintings and portraits. Can you imagine the huge headache I'm going to get if everyone starts talking at once? It'll be worse then the great hall in the opening feast.
Of course the paintings won't be able to talk, some lucky bastards escaped the hell of becoming a portrait, but they're still very famous and need to be in the Hall of Fame. Stupid, really.
I've probably confused you a great deal with my ramblings, so why don't we go back to the beginning?
One Month, eleven days earlier
I was napping when it started, woken up unexpectedly by the crummy voice of Harry James Potter. Ever since he took my portrait frame from Number 12 I hadn't gotten much sleep at all in the Headmasters office, someone was always talking in there.
Anyway, Mr. Potter came in looking quite dazed. "Is it true?" He asked no one in particular. The other portraits just looked at each other wondering what the hell was going on but of course, having the curse of curiosity that I have, I just had to ask.
"Is what true, Potter?"
He blinked, surprised that it was I who answered him. "That your stuck wherever your portrait is for the rest of eternity."
I scoffed. "I wouldn't have been if you and the Mudblood didn't destroy my other portrait hole."
Potter looked at me apologetically. "Is there anyway you can make another?"
"Of course there is," I said with a nod. "It just requires very strong magic."
When I told Potter of this I wasn't expecting he would actually do anything about it. How wrong I was indeed. It was exactly a month later when the raven haired boy came back to the office with a huge grin on his face.
"I've done it!" He exclaimed happily. "I've convinced the Ministry to make a Hall of Fame!"
This time it was everyone else who was asking Potter what he was talking about and the boy gladly explained everything he did in the past month. I couldn't believe what he was telling me, and I didn't until I seen it for myself.
It wasn't until a few weeks later that I could feel the new opening. You see, when your turned into a portrait that has different portrait holes you can feel them all kind of like if you left the door open and a draft was coming in. I have to admit I was albeit curious and I couldn't help but go towards the opening, just to see what this place was going to be like. I was amazed what I saw.
The room was huge, probably the size of three great halls put together. I don't know how they did it, but I could actually move around, it was like I wasn't on a wall, just floating in midair. When I looked behind me I could read what was under my portrait:
Phineas Nigellus Black (1847-1925)
The first Slytherin headmaster, loyal, brave, intelligent.
"You know, This is precisely why I loathed being a teacher! Young people are so infernally convinced that they are absolutely right about everything. Has it not occurred to you, my poor puffed-up poppinjay, that there might be an excellent reason why the Headmaster of Hogwarts is not confiding every tiny detail of his plans to you? Have you never paused, while feeling hard-done-by, to note that following Dumbledore's orders has never yet led you into harm? No. No, like all young people, you are quite sure that you alone feel and think, you alone recognize danger, you alone are the only one clever enough to realize what the Dark Lord may be planning."
I smiled at the quote that was given under my name. I remember saying that to Potter when he was whining about one thing or another as he always did. I couldn't help but be even more nosy then usual and look around at everyone else, after all, I've been stuck with these people for years, I was curious as to what Potter thought of them all. Not to mention the other portraits that were hanging around that I had never seen, old ministry workers, headmasters of Durmstrang, headmistress' of that girly French school... But what caught my attention most was what was across the room from me under the heading 'War heroes'. It was none other then the portrait of Severus Snape.
Severus Tobias Snape (1960-1998)
The bravest man I have ever had the privilege of knowing. A man who should be over in the Headmasters of Hogwarts section.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking... I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
I was that amazed at what Potter said about Severus that I didn't even see him come to stand in front of me with that stupid grin on his face.
"Do you like it, then?"
"Yes," I answered truthfully. I loved it really, it made me feel like part of the wizarding world once again. More importantly, now that mostly everyone would be there, I could finally get some well deserved sleep in the Headmasters office.
Quidditch League Finals Round One: Write about a portrait. e.g. the Fat Lady, Sir Cadogan, etc. Try and be creative!