Minerva and Neville looked over the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy Teaching Ballet to the Trolls while Argus stood behind and grumbled under his breath.
Finally, Minerva nodded. "You were absolutely right, Argus. There's definitely some damage to the edges of the tapestry, and the colours look so muted. I was certain there had been no harm to this when the Room of Requirement went up in flames, but perhaps the smoke has affected it. Barnabas always looked concerned and afraid, but now he looks more … "
"Dejected, I would say." Neville gently ran his hand down the old woven panels, watching as the trolls attempted demi-plies and battementes . Instead of his usual position in the centre, directing the trolls as they practised on the barre, Barnabas sat at the side of the picture with his head in his hands. The very angle of his shoulders indicated despair more convincingly than the final dance of the Prince in Swan Lake as Odette dies.
Finally, the wizard reached out and took a flower, slowly pulling the petals from it one at a time. They drifted down, only to be trampled by the pink satin shoes of the dancing trolls.
"Been like that for nigh on three weeks." Argus reached out with a feather duster and dislodged a pile of detritus that had gathered along the bottom of the tapestry, shuffling it along the wall and into a corner with a precise flick. "All t'colours fading, and not frum ower-much sun. This end don't get much." Indeed, the corridor was quite dim, with only a dispersed light coming in the windows overhead that faced due North. The torches, normally sufficient illumination, were not enough to fade the tapestry, and besides, magical images weren't supposed to deteriorate with age.
"Any ideas, Neville?"
"If it were a picture, I'd send it to that chap in New York – Arberjardner – who does those restoration videos. I'm pretty sure he's more than just a muggle, and he's done wonders with some of those old paintings. But tapestry? I don't know if that's something he handles." Neville gently pulled the fragile cloth away from the wall and ran his hands over the stone behind it. "No sign of damp, at least. So it's not mouldy."
"Perhaps you should contact this chap and see if he can recommend someone." Minerva gently waved her wand at the canvas backing loops that attached the tapestry to its hanging rod. Again, a pile of dust came wafting down, to be whisked away efficiently by Argus. Some of it set the trolls a-coughing, but still Barnabas did not react. If anything, he looked sadder.
Neville wrote down a few notes, then stopped and looked at Minerva with horror. "Is it possible for a portrait to die?"
"Not as far as I know. Argus?"
"Ne'er seen one. But sumtimes, just sumtimes, summat 'appens and the people disappear. You're looking at a portrait and it's empty."
:"What do you do with them then?" enquired Minerva.
"Ain't happened for years, but we used to stack them in the Room of …." All three swivelled to look at where the doorway had been. Now it was as if someone had filled it in with heavy stones, the lintel outlined in soot. They gave a collective sigh, then headed back down the stairs.
Three days later, Neville, Ginny and Luna were waiting in the dining room for Harry, who was off talking with Minerva. Neville had pulled up the videos of the painting restorations, and the women agreed that the gentleman performing the restoration must possess arcane powers in his hands.
"Did you write to him?" Ginny asked, and then gasped as the deft hands of the restorer removed a murky brown patch to reveal a perfect rounded cherub's cheek. "Oh that was brilliant. We should send Hermione to him, find out what his secrets are."
"He's already replied with the contact details of a couple of places here in Britain." Neville pulled up the list. "Actually, could one of you go and measure the tapestry? I need to send the exact specs to these places to see who can handle it."
"I'll go. I know it quite well – I used to sit and talk to it sometimes when things were bad in our last year. It was almost as if the trolls were listening. Barnabas was too – would make them do the most wonderful dances for me." Luna raised her hands and stood, pirouetting twice before she picked up the builder's tape Neville put on the table and headed up the stairs.
The corridor was as dim as ever, and she eyed the tapestry with care as she approached with the tape measure (and with an eye out for Peeves who was in a grumpy mood). Delicately, Luna hitched the metal end to one of the flagstones that lined up exactly with the side of the tapestry, and pulled the tape out as she walked backwards to the other end. Its metallic shimmery sound echoed along the corridor like a tin snake, and she shivered, remembering the sound Nagini had made as she slithered through the school while Voldemort ruled. But that was twenty years before. Most snakes were quite nice, she reminded herself. Smooth, soft and satiny, like an old worn leather wallet after years of use. She noted the length (three thousand and fifty millimetres) then shook the tape free of the flagstone and smiled as it clattered back into its case.
Luna then turned to look at the tapestry properly. She had to, to measure its height. It showed the usual picture – several large and ungainly trolls performing what seemed to be arabesques, first pointing with their whole bodies towards Barnabas, then to the front, as if there was an audience. Barnabas himself was gesturing as well, first towards the front then back to himself, his hands ending up gently crossed and cupped over his chest. The whole seemed surprisingly co-ordinated, and the trolls were obviously enjoying themselves, although Barnabas looked more miserable than ever. Luna remembered this particular set of actions from her days as a student.
She had to stand right in front of the tapestry to get the metal tape to slide up to the top of it. Her chest rested against the soft fabric, which whispered around her almost as if it were trying to wrap itself there. The trolls had pas de bourréed towards the back, and Luna now found herself face to face with Barnabas himself.
She froze for a moment, then shook herself free and whacked the springy metal tape against the tapestry, dislodging a small cloud of dust. She steadied the measure with her hand and crouched down to ensure she was reading right on the bottom of the tapestry.
"Two thousand two hundred exactly." Luna straightened up, just in time to catch Barnabas himself straightening as if he'd been leaning over to look down …
"Oh." She looked down her own front, then back at Barnabas. "It isn't at all like a gentleman to peer down a lady's cleavage. Stop that." The figure in front of her immediately assumed another position, one of penitence, but with a mischievous grin. Meanwhile, the trolls were starting to come forward to begin the exercise again.
"Nearly done?" Neville came up behind Luna, followed by Ginny. "It can be a bit tricky."
Luna grinned and bent over to pick up the tape measure. She saw Barnabas try to catch another glimpse of her breasts, and shifted her shoulders to give him a few more degrees of view. Straightening, she handed over the tape, but Neville wasn't looking at her.
"You've done something to it."
"Only measured it, like you asked."
"He's right," said Ginny. "The colours aren't dingy at all. In fact they're quite bright, but you've done something to Barnabas. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was blushing.
"As if a picture could blush." Luna put the tape in Neville's hand, and took his arm to lead him back down the stairs. They were nearly at the top when she pulled free, and dashed back. "Won't be a moment – forgot something."
The tapestry was as it should be, with trolls a-tromping and Barnabas directing. But he saw her come back. His eyebrows flew up and a hopeful smile came over his face.
"I'm sorry, Barnabas. It can't be. But I appreciate the thought." She blew him a kiss and ran back to the others, aware without watching that he had caught the kiss and was still smiling.