A Chat with Past Headmasters
Al was just chewing on one of the many raisins in his bowl of porridge that was enchanted to taste like his favourite dessert, chocolate truffles, when he heard footsteps approaching, quickly ducked his head, and buried his head in Rose's copy of Quidditch Through The Ages.
Scorpius Malfoy, his new friend, and Rose Weasley, his cousin, were walking over, followed by Al's brother James. He was a second year and was very mischievous. He had raven black hair, like Al, but that was mostly where the resemblances stopped. James had bright hazel eyes, like their mother, unlike Al's startling green ones from their father. He was tall and gangly, like the rest of their Weasley uncles - Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, and Ron - while Al was small and skinny, rather like his father, the famous father, was at age eleven. James also had rather large protruding ears.
Al almost fell into his porridge when he saw them, lifting his head at last. Why was James here? Al got a premonition about trouble... His brother almost never talked to him at school- he was too busy causing mischief with his friends Aaron, Thomas, and Rick. He was grinning broadly, looking again extraordinarily like his uncle George, with black hair instead of red and not a lot (though he had a little) freckles on his face.
"Today's Saturday!" he said excitedly. "Now that I've finished my essay for DADA, do you want to come on an adventure with me and your friends here?"
"Ok sure," said Al, against his best will and flabbergasted. An "adventure" for James meant deep trouble, both for him and his followers. "But let's not get caught by Filch, ok?" He did not want to end up in that office ever again: what would happen to him then? Him getting lynched secretly? He didn't put anything past Filch.
James did not seem to hear his pleading question. He pulled out an extremely old, yellowed, and battered piece of parchment, to the bewilderment of his partners. He took out his wand and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!" Then, he tapped it.
It immediately became a complete and detailed map of the Hogwarts castle and ground. Tiny dots indicated the people in the castle.
"Got that from dad's chest?" asked Al sarcastically.
"Yup," said James proudly, puffing out his chest. "Yeah, so Filch isn't in his office, right?"
Al saw that the dot marked "Argus Filch" was indeed in a little room behind Filch's bedroom, which was behind a bookshelf in Filch's office, labelled "Filch's Bathroom". Under that, there was a tiny speech bubble marked "Do not enter. Very risky. Caught a glimpse of Filch's bathroom's magazines. Believe me, Playboy Senior For the Elderly Wizard isn't very recommendable. Signed, Fred." Al couldn't imagine Filch reading Playboy. What kind of world was this?
"James, this isn't a good idea!" said Al. "Raid Filch's office? Are you mad?"
"Al, Albus," said James, laughing merrily. "But Filch isn't in his office, right? And nor is Mrs Norris the Second, or Mr. Whiskers, his cat stalkers. Please?" He looked at them with pleading puppy eyes.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," stammered Rose. "I mean, Filch..."
"The old Squib won't notice!" said James. "He's as ignorant as a Muggle!"
"You prejudiced arse!" said Rose. She didn't seem to notice that the teachers from the High Table were looking down at her. "You idiot..."
She tried to hit James, but when he ducked, she huffed indignantly and stomped off. "What's wrong with her?" asked Al.
"Come on now, chaps! We'll get along perfectly well without this little most sullen girl! Why don't you take the Invisibility Cloak? We'll take some things and then make a run for it. I'll ask Victoire to Transfigure our things into quills, and then back, if needed. She owes me a dozen of Dungbombs anyways."
The boys followed James reluctantly to Filch's office, checking every minute or so the whereabouts of Filch. He stayed in the bathroom. Must be constipated, thought Al. Ha!
Once they arrived, they put on the Cloak, while James stuffed numerous things from the Highly Personal Cabinet, like an old Kwikspell course. "Might come in handy," muttered James, who then stuffed it into his pocket. He also handed a flask labelled Love Potion and old Chocolate Frog cards to Al, who put them into his bottomless sack.
Suddenly, they heard two loud hisses. There, in the doorway, were Mr. Whiskers and Mrs. Norris. James took out his wand and shouted "Wingardium Leviosa!" and fled. So did Al and Scorpius. They didn't even pause to see the extraordinary sight of a Filch with a pink towel wrapped around his waist.
The portrait of Severus Snape was the largest, the one directly behind the Headmistress's desk. He was bored; life as a portrait was extremely boring: he couldn't fathom how Phineas Black managed it. Suddenly, he heard some huffs of breath outside the door; it sounded like a younger students. Being a portrait must have enhanced my hearing, he observed. He heard a boy's voice wheeze Gryffindor Tower, which was the current password to the office. Snape sighed in frustration. Hadn't he told Minerva it was way too easy, especially for an arrogant Gryffindor?
Suddenly, he realized something: the voice sounded extraordinarily like that one of Harry Potter. The boy, arrogant like his father, was the son he should have had. Was the boy back?
But no, he thought. The boy must be about my age when I died now. This must be one of his sons.
A small, skinny boy entered the office in wonder. Snape decided to shut up until he actually turned to the portraits. He had messy raven black hair and Lily's eyes. Well, great, thought Snape. A Harry Potter clone. The boy observed the Pensieve, then the giant Hogwarts crest hanging on the nearby wall. Then, the boy turned to him. He had exactly Lily's eyes and his father's arrogance. Snape supposed it ran in families.
"Hello, sir!" said the boy, sounding polite. Did he really think he could charm Severus Snape, former Headmaster, with his Potter politeness? His father had probably warned him anyways about him; it was probably mocked.
Snape's face twisted into a sneer. "Did you read the nameplate under my portrait, boy?" he asked with such venom that the boy retreated.
"Whoa!" said the foolish boy. "Sorry, Severus Snape!"
"That's right," said Snape nastily. "Now what are you doing in the Headmistress's office?"
"I got lost," said the boy nervously. "I was, uh, walking, but I turned left instead of right."
Snape smirked. "Tenth time in your first week, Potter! You are certainly catching up to Mr. Longbottom when he was your age!"
"Professor Longbottom?" The boy seemed so shocked.
Snape was pleased to realise that he was still as sadistic as ever. He kept his face impassive, though.
"Yes," he sneered. "The man you call Professor was the worst student I ever had!"
"How do you know?" asked the boy defiantly.
"Professor Longbottom came in here to tell the Headmistress, Potter. Portraits aren't stupid, you know."
"No..." stammered the boy. "Hey! That's Professor Dumbledore!" he said, pointing to the portrait beside Snape's.
The old man woke up. "Indeed, my boy," he chuckled merrily. "Oh, hello, Severus," he said to the greasy haired man that was Snape.
"Dumbledore," said Snape curtly. "This is Potter's boy. Well, one of them." He shrugged.
"I'm Al!" said the boy.
"Yes," said Snape in a bored tone. "Al, for what? I hope Potter and Weasley named you something confinable, at least!"
"Yes! My name is Albus Severus Potter! So there!" he said defensively. Snape had the strange urge to cry. He sounded so much like Lily.
Now, now, he told himself severely, what is your problem? What happened to the oh-so-popular motto 'Emotional display is a sign of weakness'?
"Ah," said Dumbledore fondly. "You see, Severus? You now have no need for old grudges, dear man!"
Snape was mad. Why hadn't he been told earlier? He fumed silently.
Al was still talking to the Headmasters when the door opened. Snape's face was quite emotionless and impassive. He seemed to hate him. But hadn't his dad said that Snape was one of the bravest men he had ever knwn? Al was confused.
The boy hid in a cabinet and heard voices.
"Horace!" cried Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress. "Horace!" She was sobbing.
Al recognized Neville's voice. It was calm, but he could detect some emotion. "It's okay, Minerva," he comforted her. "Horace has lived a nice, happy life."
Was Horace dead? wondered Al. He pressed his ear to the cabinet door.
He heard another voice, a very feeble one. "Minerva..." it croaked. "Crytallized... pineapple."
The person let out a last breath, shuddered, and went still.
"What happened to him?" asked Professor Longbottom urgently. "Did he get poisoned?"
"I don't know," whispered Minerva. "I just found him like this in his room..."
"Let me see..." said another voice. It belonged to Professor Prince, the Charms Professor. "Ah..."
'What?" asked Neville.
"It's a very ancient curse..."whispered Julia Prince. "Protego Reverso. Very powerful. It is used to kill vermin. Similar to Avada Kedavra, but not illegal. I suppose Horace decided to use it on his candy, just to try it. You see this bluish mark? It is the scar that it leaves behind. I guess it led..."
She glanced at Horace's dead body. Another sob escaped from Minerva and Neville patted her back.
"What exactly happens?" asked Neville.
"Well," said Julia, pursuing her lips. "It turns the insides into a blue sand. The body then becomes light as a feather, as the bones and organs are dissolved. This was a measure taken by the Ministry during the last Death Eater rebellion in 2006, as the bodies couldn't be used to create Inferi."
Neville looked disgusted. Minerva staggered to the bathroom.
"What's with her?" asked Julia.
"Her health is failing," whispered Neville. "She's ninety two this year, you know."
"Well," said Julia. "I've got to go now. Walk me to the door, Neville?" She fluttered her eyelashes and applied some red lipstick on her luscious lips.
To Al's surprise, Neville accepted and smiled at her as seductively as his scarred face could manage. They're flirting, thought the first year. But Neville is married!
Al waited until they were outside, then got out and stared up at Snape. "Do you know about this flirting stuff?" he asked the sullen man.
"Of course," sneered Snape, though Al could see some longing in those cold black eyes. "I may be dead, but you have to be blind not to notice Longbottom and Prince - who is actually my cousin - fooling in the Professors' bathroom like I did when I was innocently visiting my other portrait with the rest of the staff there."