Written for QLFC Season 5, Round 8 - Headcanons! I'm chaser 2 for Ballycastle Bats (Go Bats!). My headcanon was given by my very own Captain queen-sheep! "The Fat Lady knows every piece of gossip that circulates around Hogwarts - sometimes when she's bored, she'll even start a few."
My lovely betas were: brownlark42, queen-sheep, rrit, loubug14. All other mistakes are mine!
Optional prompts were: [word] elegant; [first line] I/He/She live/s for disbelief...; [object] paintbrush
Word Count: 1,639
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
The Fat Lady lives for disbelief. Gossip is the only thing that keeps her going after guarding the Gryffindor common room for the last three hundred years. She swipes her hand down her elegant rose-colored dress as she prepares for the new year to begin. She can hear the students clomping up the staircase toward her.
As the first head rose above the staircase, she spoke, "Password please!"
She believes her voice is beautiful, and she thinks - not for the first time - that she should have been an opera singer.
"Malarkey!" the sixth year prefect announces. She guesses this must be another Weasley. There are so many of them in her house. Even back when she attended Hogwarts four centuries ago, there were several redheaded Weasleys in Gryffindor. She swings outward and allows the students to pass through. She takes a deep breath as she braces herself for the slam of her frame against the hole. It is teeth-jarring, and if she doesn't brace herself, she is liable to lose her tongue.
SLAM!
There it is. The Fat Lady resettles herself in her portrait and smooths her pink gown again. The artist who created her portrait had used a fine paintbrush, and details on the dress are glorious.
"Malarkey!" Another shout and the Fat Lady swings herself forward again to allow the next group of students through. She hopes that this will be the last of the bunch. She wants her friend Violet to visit.
SMACK!
The portrait swings into place and the Fat Lady has to brace her hand against the column next to her to avoid losing her seat. She can't prove it, but she has a suspicion that the students are getting more and more disrespectful every year.
"Yoo-hoo! Fat Lady! Are you home?" she hears Violet call from a neighboring portrait.
"Come in! Come in, Violet!" the Fat Lady calls as she moves aside to give Violet room to sit on her bench.
"I've just been from the Great Hall and you'll never believe it! The Potter boy wasn't there!" Violet says breathlessly as she settles herself amongst the pillars and vines.
"Where was he?" the Fat Lady asks as she tries to remember if he has come through her portrait hole already.
"Nobody knows! The paintings and ghosts couldn't stop talking about it. Maybe the Muggles wouldn't let him come back!" Violet exclaims.
"Oh! I hear those Muggles he lives with are right nasty, they are," the Fat Lady says with a nod. She can absolutely believe that those vile Muggles would prevent the Boy-Who-Lived from coming back for his second year at Hogwarts.
Just then, the Boy-Who-Lived, along with another Weasley and Professor McGonagall, appears at the top of the stairs.
"The password is 'Malarkey', gentleman. Let's be on better behavior tomorrow," Professor McGonagall says with a sniff and waits as the Fat Lady swings forward to allow the two boys to enter.
CRASH!
The Fat Lady grabs Violet to keep her from toppling as the portrait slams back over the hole.
"Minnie, what happened? Violet says Harry Potter wasn't at the feast!" the Fat Lady asks.
"Och," Professor McGonagall harrumphs. "They stole a flying automobile and flew it to Hogwarts instead of getting on the train!" The Fat Lady almost grins. Professor McGonagall is a prime source of information, and she also loves a bit of gossip. Almost as much as the Fat Lady does.
"A what?" the Fat Lady asks. She's never heard of an automobile before.
"It's like a horseless carriage, but it's Muggle and they were seen! Countless Muggles had to be Obliviated!" Professor McGonagall continues.
The Fat Lady's imagination soars at the thought of a flying carriage careening over the Scottish countryside. Her mind is already embellishing the details.
"Oh, my! Obliviated! Muggles! What naughty boys!" the Fat Lady commiserates.
"Naughty, indeed," Professor McGonagall mutters. "Have a good night ladies." She turns and walks down the hallway toward her private quarters.
It is a boring year so far.
The Fat Lady has not had any good gossip to spread around the castle. It is already Halloween, and there is typically at least one good rumor to spread by this time of year. There is that bit about Professor Lockhart, but it has died quickly. The Fat Lady hasn't seen Professor Lockhart, but Violet assures her of his charm and good looks. Was it strikingly handsome? Or handsomely striking? She chooses the more compelling description and tucks it away to use in a story later. The Fat Lady sighs wistfully; she wishes she could move about the castle. She wants to see all the professors and spy on classes like Violet and most of the other paintings in the castle.
"Did you hear?" Violet asks as she comes running into the Fat Lady's frame.
"Hear what?" the Fat Lady asks. She resettles herself so Violet doesn't wrinkle her elegant dress.
"Argus Filch's cat has been petrified! And Slytherin's monster is loose!" Violet blurts out.
"Petrified?! What does that mean? Slytherin's monster?" the Fat Lady asks as she clutches her chest. A monster, loose in the castle? It sounds familiar, but she can't be bothered to recall the details just now. A petrified cat sounds dreadful.
"The cat isn't dead, but it is frozen. It can't move and it won't wake up! And nobody knows what Slytherin's monster is," Violet tells her.
"Who found the poor dear?" the Fat Lady asks.
"Harry Potter, of course!" Violet shouts.
"Harry Potter? Oh my," the Fat Lady says as Violet waves and hops out of the portrait.
The monks from two floors below visit next and insist that Harry Potter just stumbled upon the scene. They heard it from the goblin painting on the second floor who had witnessed the whole thing. Unfortunately, they couldn't describe the monster, because their paintings were covered for cleaning at the time.
Several days later, the gossip about Slytherin's monster has died down. The Fat Lady is bored again, but she thinks she has just the thing to liven up the castle.
When Violet comes to visit that day, Argus Filch is mopping the floor in front of her portrait.
"Violet, did you know that Harry Potter is the heir of Slytherin?" the Fat Lady asks. She is happy to see Filch perk up at this statement. That means he'll help the gossip move along.
"No! Is he? How do you know?!" Violet exclaims.
"I overheard him tell his friends," the Fat Lady says proudly. She has heard no such thing; in fact, the idea came to her after the goblins reported what was written in blood above Argus Filch's cat.
"Oh my! I must go and tell the monks!" Violet says as she rushes off. Filch also slips away and the Fat Lady is sure he is going to spread the news. The Fat Lady resettles herself as she hears the portraits near her buzz at the new gossip. She bubbles with pleasure, as she finally starts to remember the last time Slytherin's monster was on the loose.
1943
Months have gone by and still no word on what Slytherins monster really is. The Fat Lady sighs and mutters, "I know it's that awful Hagrid child." She shudders at the thought of the half-giant boy with the partiality to odd 'pets'. He is no true Gryffindor. She had known from the start that no other student could be culpable, and she had made certain that Violet and the other portraits knew it too.
"Who, Fat Lady?" A handsome boy in Slytherin robes asks.
The Fat Lady bristles, she will not let a Slytherin near her precious Gryffindors.
"You just mind yourself, boy. You have no business up here. I can tell you that," the Fat Lady sniffs.
"Pardon me, madame," the boy mutters and gives her a small bow. "I was just looking for Slytherin's monster, you see. I was told a Gryffindor was responsible."
"Oh! In that case, yes, you are right. A Gryffindor is responsible, it's very clearly that odious Rubeus Hagrid," the Fat Lady explains, pausing a moment to enjoy the way the word 'odious' rolls off her tongue. "I've tried telling Professor Dumbledore on a number of occasions," She shakes her head mournfully at the number of times Professor Dumbledore has assured her it could not have been Rubeus Hagrid.
"Of course, madame. I will do what I can to ensure this Hagrid character is caught," the handsome boy smiles and pauses to look at her. "My word, madame, but may I tell you that you have the most beautifully-painted dress I've had the good fortune of seeing. The artist must have used quite the exquisite paintbrush there. A very good night to you," he offers another bow, and the Fat Lady dips her own head demurely. He is not so bad for a Slytherin. He has lovely manners.
She thrills at the idea of giving him even more important information in the future.
The following day, Violet comes rushing into the Fat Lady's portrait once more with fresh news.
"A student is dead! A Ravenclaw girl! Found dead in the bathroom! She's already a ghost!" Violet shouts as she tries to catch her breath.
"Dead!" the Fat Lady throws a hand to her forehead and affects a faint.
"Yes! And you were right! Rubeus Hagrid is to be expelled! And taken to Azkaban!" Violet continues.
"I knew it!" the Fat Lady cries and comes out of her faint to discuss it further.
The Fat Lady shakes herself out of her reverie. What will happen this time? Death or expulsion? And for whom? The possibilities are endless.
The Fat Lady loves spreading gossip. In fact, she lives for it. And sometimes - if it's the right kind of gossip - people die for it.