There were many portraits at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Every hall and every classroom was home to at least one, but more often than not dozens of them hung on a single wall. It was a fool's errand to get to know them all, especially since they tended to have extreme personalities. Nevertheless, knowing at least one of the portraits in every area possible was a great way of knowing the goings on of the school. And for Rita Skeeter, journalist for the Daily Prophet, there was nothing more valuable than the information they could provide her.

In a hallway of the dungeons, not far from the Slytherin common rooms, she reached the portrait of a young man. He was handsome, even beautiful, and she could understand with a glance why the painter had chosen this model. He was a real beauty, an innocent young man who could capture the world with a smile. The painter, one Basil Hallward she noted, had truly immortalized the young man.

She turned her attention to the young man looking at her with rapt attention. One thing she had come to learn about portraits was that they rarely lied. In fact, lying would make them misrepresent the person they represented, and portraits absolutely loathed the idea. Actually, they liked to think of themselves as the people they represented, especially after said persons met their end. So unless they had some secret to keep or the original people were pathological liars, they were some of the most reliable people to interview, so long as the meaning of the questions could not be twisted.

"Hello," she greeted.

The man smiled sweetly at her but looked vaguely surprised at being addressed.

"Good evening. What might be name of this lovely lady?" he replied.

Huh. Handsome, good manners, suave. No wonder he was near the Slytherin common room.

"Rita Skeeter. And you are?"

The man pointed to the bottom of the frame. Rita leaned in and read the plaque.

"Dorian Gray, huh?"

The man looked affronted.

"No!" he shouted a complete turn around from his previous demeanor, "I am the Picture of Dorian Gray. We aren't the same."

Touchy, touchy. But very interesting, to say the least. Portraits rarely liked to admit they were just moving pictures. But Dorian here seemed attached to the fact. Very interesting indeed.

"Oh, I didn't mean to offend. But it's such a long name. You wouldn't mind if I simply called you Dorian, right?"

Dorian agreed hesitantly.

"A lot of people don't know this, but nearly every portrait in this school is of an important person. Dorian, who are you?"

The man looked uncomfortable and blushed under the scrutiny of the brazen woman.

"No one important, Lady Skeeter. The important portraits are in the more common areas. I'm afraid that although I am in proximity to the Slytherin dormitories, this hallway is hardly in use."

"That's not an answer, Dorian," pushed Rita, "I want to know who you were. Who was Dorian Gray?"

Dorian shuddered but conceded to her demands. He never could tell anyone no.

"He was a horrible man," the portrait whispered, "Vain and greedy and evil. I am not him."

Rita was interested. She was the kind of person who knew every bit of dirt she could get her hands on. It didn't matter how long ago it had happened. As a matter of fact, she easily passed her NEWTS in History of Magic. Now who could this Dorian fellow be that could be so horrible. It seemed to her that this was a portrait done before the corruption of the man. Although she honestly couldn't imagine the innocent looking man as evil.

"Was Dorian Gray a dark wizard?" she wondered.

"Oh no," the portrait said, looking away from her, "He wasn't a wizard at all."

Rita's lips were moving before she allowed them to.

"You're a muggle?! Not twenty steps away from the Slytherin common room?"

Dorian looked torn between indignation, shame and resignation. Rita tried to fix her mistake.

"I-I'm so sorry Mr. Gray! It simply took me by surprise."

Dorian sighed as Rita pressed on.

"Why do you despise Dorian Gray so much?" she asked.

"He was jealous of me," answered the portrait, "So he used stole my face and left me to rot in his decaying body." He spat. "Lady Skeeter, do you know how long a portrait can live?"

Rita was not sure she followed what the portrait was saying. Stealing his face? Didn't they have the same face? Maybe he would explain more if she answered his question.

"Well," she scratched her chin, "Almost forever if its taken care of."

"And that's why stealing my face effectively made him immortal." He laughed. "I remember a few years ago, there was a boy who passed by me who was also obsessed with immortality. I could see it in his eye. And the fool made a horcrux of all things. Dorian Gray at least had a more effective method that didn't splinter his soul of all things."

Rita's breath hitched. Horcrux? Splintering of the soul? Immortality? Hadn't it been You-Know-Who who had claimed to be immortal?

She felt dread sneaking up her spine. The portrait wasn't making any sense and it sounded like he was talking about Dark Arts. She lead the conversation back to familiar territory.

"That is… very unfortunate, Dorian. In any case, I was wondering if you could keep an eye out around here? Hogwarts these days isn't very safe and I would be grateful for another set of eyes to maintain the safety of the students." The lies fell off her tongue easily and Dorian gobbled them up. No wonder he had eventually been corrupted, he was so gullible. Dorian looked at her with bright eyes and a beautiful smile.

"Anything to be of service, Lady Skeeter," he said.

"Wonderful!" Rita exclaimed, "I'll be sure to put you into contact with the other portraits in my network-"

"I'm afraid that cannot be. I apologize."

Huh? What? It was going so well! She had the portrait wrapped around her pinky… What could have suddenly made him change his mind?

Dorian looked positively mortified as he tried to explain himself.

"There are certain taboos among portraits, you understand," he started slowly, "Amongst which is being responsible for the death of your painter. I… Dorian Gray murdered Basil Hallward. It is...badly seen. The other portraits would never talk to me..." He trailed off and couldn't meet her eyes.

"You murdered your painter? How?!"

"I did nothing of the sort," he retorted, "Dorian Gray did." He tried to meet her gaze again but could only hold it for a second. "By stabbing," he added.

Rita was fuming. All of that effort coming down here gone had gone to waste because of some stupid taboo. She wanted to punch the gorgeous man in front of her but knew it would do nothing. Instead, she simply walked away before she did something unseemly like set fire to the damned thing.

For the hallway she came from came a sad goodbye. And no one would speak to the Picture of Dorian Gray for another decade and a half.


Author's Note: We need to talk more about the Hogwarts portraits.