Slam!
Salazar sits facing the blasted door of that potions brewer. He feels he has a distinct advantage over many of the other portraits for precisely that reason. Leave it to the most clever member of the Slytherin Family to have the good sense to be painted while sitting down.
"You are the worst of both your Gryffindor parents and if you think I mean that as a compliment you are sorely mistaken. Incidently, Slytherin House punishments are always fair. If you don't enjoy walking to classes on your knees this week, Mr. Weasley, I suggest you find the real culprits and take this out on them."
Slam!
Not to say his family was renown for common sense. There was nothing common about any of his ancestors! Though he ascended and declined somewhere toward the middle of a long line of highly inbred Wizarding royalty, Salazar knows that is what being a Wizard is all about. If one's ancestors are not murderously mad with pointy heads, recessive chins, and fishy lips, then mark his words, there's a Muggle in the mix somewhere. Thankfully as could be seen by anyone traipsing down this hall, Salazar Slytherin has the pointiest of heads and a chin disappearing somewhere just below his fishiest of lips. Blood any purer wouldn't even be blue- and as the old family saying goes, blood should run out a tortured hemophiliac the color of India ink.
When it comes to blood, Salazar is an authority.
"Stop snivelling. It's only your blood. Have you never heard of revenge? How dare you come to me for help at eleven? I dealt with worse bullies than Vladimir Malfoy on my own when I was eleven and then usually four at a time."
Slam!
Though Salazar is quite fond of his chair, he despises his view. What sort of raging imbecile aside from Dumbledore would hang a portrait right across the hall from a door? Not a terribly interesting door either just a plain dark wooden one. If anything needs to face a window or another portrait, it's a portrait by all the Gods!
Salazar, on the subject of interior design, is an authority.
"If I need to call you in here again, Mr. Malfoy, you won't get the opportunity to complain to your father or your grandfather. By the way, both of them prefer my company to yours."
Slam!
Many years ago and he remembers that century like it was yesterday, Salazar Slytherin had a lovely view of a saucy half-clad siren who all day long and long into the evenings flicked her tail at him most deliciously. Not that he would give an oil painting of a Magical Creature the time of day, mind you. She was a most magical Magical Creature though, that wet wench! Pity she was not a pureblood witch with those lovely fishy lips! Ignoring her when flicking her tail, giving her the occasional look of disapproval when she was still, that was his wicked little game!
Salazar Slytherin is an authority on seduction and all matters of the heart.
"Professor Potter, just because you let me fuck the stuffing out of you every night does not give you license to leave your broom in my rooms for me to trip over. If you can not find a proper place for it, do remember my first suggestion."
Slam!
Worse than simply looking at that very plain door is the fact it is almost always closed except for when the potions brewer and the occasional visitor or student walk silently in and silently out again. More often the little ones creep in then run away. The owner of that door is not a noisy man. It's that potions brewing fellow, oh Salazar is very bad with names that are not his own or Dumbledore's. He only remembers Dumbledore's name so, should Dumbledore happen by, he can shout, "Dumbledore, you idiot! I protest the door!"
When it comes to idiots, Salazar is an authority.
Dumbledore can't speak these days, it seems. The infernal man only moves his lips around at Salazar without making a single sound. If the lunatic could speak he'd probably have the nerve to encourage Salazar to visit other portraits to see other sights or some such nonsense, as if Salazar had not had a great sulphurous smoking demon of a time dissuading those other portraits from visiting his frame! Why, only fifty years ago or so that overstuffed goose of a witch that now guards Godric's rabble sang at him, shreiking away half the night right into his ears.
Luckily, Hogwarts has gotten more quiet since then.
"Mr. Creevey, as I told you last time, Professor Potter is not for sale. When next you blackmail a Slytherin Potions Master who can brew undetectable poisons in his sleep, why not try demanding something he might give you instead of just murdering you? Or here's a thought, threaten him with something that won't improve his reputation. Thank you for photographs. You will bring the negatives first thing tomorrow morning. Do not even entertain the idea of making more copies. Except for these two- I want them blown up into eight by tens. I also require a heartfelt apology detailing your crimes and signed at the bottom. In return I will do my best to squash the vicious rumors floating about that you wet your bed and are hung like a baby carrot, not that the entire school would believe such things about you. Do close my door very softly on your way out."
Yes, that potions fellow is the most upstanding of neighbors. He certainly could do with a more interesting door, though.
On this and every other subject, Salazar Slytherin is an authority.
-All comments welcome. Thank you!