FOURTEEN

That day Emily got started on making her Pensieve. She started on her map crafting lines of magical power and highlighted each as a line. She then calculated the most likely inter-junction that would bestow magical properties; it was possible any rock could be used but the more precautions she took the better. Emily finally decided on a place in the highlands. She needed somewhere out of the way but still with magical resonance. Emily got her camping equipment ready. She got her magical tent out from the closet that she had bought from Perkins when he upgraded after having another child. However the tent as old as it was held up well and Emily didn't like the grandiose of most camping tents she saw in the Wizarding world.

Tonight would be the full moon and ideal time to craft it. She put the Ruin and Arithmancy books in her rucksack, although she wasn't sure she needed them, and her workings then attached the tent on top and cracked her way to the north.

On arriving in the rocky shores of the Highlands Emily was almost blown off her feet such were the strong winds. Emily immediately summoned a shield. She went and performed some protective spells to put up a barrier against the wind. Although free from the wind she could hear its whistle and pounding against her shield. Emily put up the tent and went in to catch her warmth. She cooked herself some eggybread on the stove along with a pot of tea. She would wait till night fell before starting and it would take several hours.

After eating she sat out and lit a fire. Night was falling and so she began to carve the basin out of the stone. It hovered still in front of her. She carved the 1st ruin and then turned it so the moonlight reflected its light on it. She felt a tingle and the wind seemed to pound harder on the dome she had created. She carved the 2nd ruin and again turned it into the moonlight. Emily proceeded carving each ruin in a specific order and absorbing the moonlight into each one. She couldn't say why but she felt it working, an energy flowing into her body through her wand. Emily was in an almost trance like state when she finished. The howl of the wind buffeted all around her and she glided the finding pensieve down onto the ground. Slowly she stood up and came over to the finished Pensieve. There was only one way to test if it had worked; she poured in the memory she had got from William.

Emily poured in the silvery gassy liquid and waited. She saw an image begin to unfurl. A younger William was being dragged down into a basement by dark hands looming out of the shadow that surrounds him. He was looking up shouting at a girl standing on bottom steps of a staircase looking down at them. The girl says, sounding terrified, 'You leave William alone', then a voice from the dark shouts out 'Stupefy' and girl falls backwards and William is dragged back into the darkness. It is over. Emily goes over the memory again but this time she enters it. She keeps her eyes locked on the darkness William is being dragged into. She senses there are others in that darkness other than the pair of hands clawing at William pulling him into the abyss. The voice she hears from the dark is a woman's; Emily tries to remember it in case she should happen upon this person.

The second memory is of Will and Tuppence holding each other until the darkness consumes them.

The sun is rising and Emily has to be at work soon. She packs everything up. She removes the barrier and just before she disappears the cold winds strikes her face.

Again Emily sits in her bed, late into the night, with the photograph held in front of her trying to find something she had not seen before, trying to look beyond the haunted child at a clue around him. Again her eyes would focus only on the child.

"Who are you?", she pleaded desperately for the first time to the naked child crumpled on the floor, 'What happened to you? Where are you now?"

She waited for a reply: The child remained only silent, glancing tremulously at the adults surrounding him.

Did photographs feel as real people felt or did they just imitate the emotions felt at the moment they were photographed, like actors on a stage? She had seen couples, happy, dancing, forever caught in that moment of joy and desire to dance. Was this child trapped in a nightmare to forever live their worst moment.

These thoughts had floated across her mind before. Now they stood rock firm in her mind, never before so pertinent. Should she burn the photo now and put the miniscule child out of its misery. She couldn't, not yet, but she made a promise she would when this was over. Not long now. How long had this shoot lived?

She placed the photograph back in her folder and placed an anti-summoning charm on it and tried to get some sleep.

Emily finally received the owl she had been waiting for since her brief stay in the hospital and if anything her desire to answer her question had only intensified with every passing day and every passing night she had started at the photograph.

Emily wrote back and made an appointment for the weekend on her own time. This was a personal question. Emily had written to a great painter called Talbot Clear whose paper she had read on the living properties of Artwork.

It was earlier on a cool clear day when Emily made her way to a rickety Ouse house whose magical properties were obvious in several clearly gravity defying extensions.

She knocked on the door and was greeted by an aging man with ruffled hair that hadn't been combed in forever; he had a thin keen face although not unkind and piercing eyes that always seemed to be searching for a secret. He greeted Emily cordially and enquired how he could possible assist an Auror and she explained this was mostly a private enquiry although she couldn't discuss everything openly as it did relate to a private investigation.

'What I really wanted to ask you, Mr Clear, was' she started, 'I was wondering if you could explain how magical photos work. I have a photograph'

'Can you show me the photograph?' Talbot asked

'I'm sorry no'

'Please call me Tal, everyone does' he said 'well I know the formulae. However I get the feeling that's not what you are asking'

He paused for a few moments and glanced at her sideways and held his thumb up.

'Why don't you tell me what you mean exactly' he said with a level of surety as if asking what style of painting she wanted done.

'I want to know' she paused 'I want to know if the people are real, how they interact with the world and if they feel as real people feel.'

Talbot smiled a knowing smile, if not friendly certainly accommodating.

'Have I said something funny' Emily asked.

"oh no, you've just asked the most difficult and comprehensive questions anyone in the field of magical photography and painting has every asked, and the one with the most answers'

'Well I shouldn't have expected an easy time when an Auror comes to visit. I honestly expected you to come with a painting that had witnessed a crime in need of restoration. However. As you know my expertise is in magical painting. I've painted several Hogwarts Headmasters and 3 out of the last four ministers of Magic. However there is a lot of magical theory that overlaps the two professions. Now my great grandfather and grandmother were one of the foremost painters of their days and I have studies their notes on the subject extensively. However before I get started I should introduce you to my friend dear friend Obscura Wedgwood.'

He walked over to the corner and coo down an owl, or at least he tried to as after several attempts he apologised saying the owl was very temperamental but he knew how to get her on side. Finally he turned his back on the owl and suggested exaggeratedly that maybe he didn't need an owl and he could apparate if he needed to hoping he wouldn't have a fall especially at his age. At that the owl flew down and perched itself on his shoulder and Talbot walked back to Emily.

Emily didn't know what to do as the man was clearly deranged so she greeted the owl.

'Hello Obscura' she said warily.

Talbot looked at her like she was mad.

'Are you quite all right my dear? He asked strangely.

'Now that I have met Obscura could we continue our conversation?'

'But you haven't met Obscura at all, I was just about to write to her' he said looking at her oddly then finally understanding the confusing and laugher, 'well I must look like a barmy old codger if you think I converse with owls. No this is Festen, she's getting on a bit but I wouldn't part with her for the world'

Emily watched Talbot pick up a pen and parchment and wrote something down then attached it to the decrepit owl and let it go. The owl flew to the window where it stopped seemingly to take a break before flying on to the fences where it took another breather then out of sight.

He sat back down and picked up a blank canvas and placed it on an easel, he caught himself before he started painting and laughed. 'old habit' he said.

'Who was the owl to?' Emily asked as way of restarting the conversation.

'Ah yes, that was too my friend 'Cura. Her family invented the formulae that we use today to develop magical photographs if anyone can answer your question it is here'

'Now old Festen will take a little while to get over the hill so while we wait I'll tell you some of my insights into magical painting that might help.'

He looked enquiringly at Emily then almost longingly at the canvas.

'I've painted almost every prominent witch and wizard of this age, even before they were famous or renowned, I've always had an eye for those with something special about them and I should very much like to paint you, my dear, I see very interesting things in your future'

Emily was very taken aback by the turn of events.

'I'm very grateful but no I'd rather hear your thoughts'

'Then what if I make it a prerequisite to get my thoughts, I'll only tell you while I paint'

Emily began to look at old Talbot with his paint smeared cloths and unkempt appearance in a light she hadn't before; he was not the benign old man she had thought, he was a lot more cunning. Had he orchestrated this scenario by sending the owl forcing her to waiting for his acquaintance who may not even exist. How ever she knew how to answer the demand'

'if I say no, what will you do?'

'Well' he said smiling, 'you've called my bluff. I tried to appear the dragon and but you've see I'm nothing but a Boggart. I would tell you anyway'

He looked like he had lost an especially sumptuous treat and on that note she accepted the offer to paint her although she gave no guarantees of sitting still.

While he painted he talked.

'Now one of the key aspects when you paint someone is time; normally when one paints someone they spend as much time with them as possible, so I usually would have severally sittings and the best paints will always happen when the person trusts me where they reveal a truth of themselves: that can be a secret or a sorrow that has made them who they are. However with you I have a brief time. Another secret of painting is that portraits will not only be a representation of the subject but of how the artist views the subjects when they are painting them. There is the famous case of Ogden the Odious. He is often considered the most despicable wizard in history and anyone who has ever talked to his portrait will tell you how he threatened to kill them in the vilest manner no matter how little he was acquainted with them. Yet what is little known is that the painter was by a man who considered him the murderer of his sister. Yet there is another portrait painted by that same sister where he is only mildly odious and will merely criticise one in the most heinous manner and find foibles in every aspect of their appearance, speak and character.'

"While the painter influences the portrait the subject also influences the portraits character; the emotions and moods the subject experiences whilst being painted become imbued in the portrait. This is why I personally like to take my time painting as it allows the whole palette of emotions to become imbued in the portraits character and a more nuanced subject appears. Where as the quicker the portrait is finished the more of a caricature appears with a single emotion dominating the portrait.'

'Take for example the portrait of Anquia the Angry who had her portrait painted right after being spurned at the alter who from then forth was in the most foul mood and would release a stream of epithets on any many who looked upon her'

'It is even known that a portrait can become imbued with the knowledge of what someone was thinking at the time they were painted. This was so well known in the 18th century is became a costume for witches and wizards to have their portraits taken so that they could reveal treasure or family secrets after they died, to which they would even wipe their own memories so no one but their portrait knew the secret. This become so common that gathering around the portrait was a common event at the end of a funeral.'

'Of course one could never entirely trust the portraits as a mischievous person could have their portrait reveal a lie, which even the portrait doesn't know as was the case of Marinetti the Mischievous whose portrait will swear blindly they know the location of Merlin's wand.'

'However the most significant creation of a portrait is the time the subject spends with the portrait after it is complete. Talking to your portrait, trusting it you secrets and you will imbue the painting with more of yourself. However the portrait will never truly be you only ever an affectation like a play of your life. It can be a detailed and rich play or a charade but it will never be you.'

A loud crack sounded in the corner where an austere women with a sharp nose and piercing eye stood, however the impressive silhouette was over as she immediately came scurrying into the room and landed by Talbot side in utter distress and words scrambled out of her mouth.

"I got your message, an Auror. What do they want? I'll never let them take you to Azkaban. Never, where are they? I'll give them a piece of my mind, they've got the wrong man, what ever they are accusing you of they have the wrong man. Point me at them, Talbot"

She said all this without noticing Emily sitting in the chair opposite. Talbot let out a slight chuckle, before allaying her fears.

"Oh, Obscura, my dear', He said, 'I am so sorry. I think I gave you the wrong end of the stick. The Auror is not here to arrest me but consult my expertise on a case. Actually it is your expertise she needs"

"Oh well', She said, dignity immediately returning to her voice and posture, finally she looked over at Emily on high with her back straight and her nose down at her, her voice took on a level of authority like a school mistress, "Ah so this would be the Auror. So what have you been terrifying Talbot here for, making him believe he is to be arrested'

Talbot looked like a man as far from terrified as possible.

'No 'Cura that isn't how it is and you know it'

'I know nothing of the sort,' She intoned crisply, 'all I know is an Auror turning up bothering decent wizards for no reason'

Continuing she said 'Now Talbot said you needed our expertise for a case'

She looked over at the canvas and one of her eyebrows raised and she glanced at Talbot. She then took a seat next to Talbot and glared at Emily a second before continuing.

"It's a rare gift for Talbot to draw someone, you must have something if he is bestowing it on you. Tilt your head back slightly and maintain your posture'

Emily found herself complying immediately, even if Emily resented her for it afterwards.

'Now what is it an Auror needs from me?' She commanded speaking with more assurance.

'Ah well now', Talbot butted in, 'the young lady and me were talking about the mystical properties of paintings between the subject and object of the portrait. Whether paintings have a soul or not.'

'Talbot's favourite subject, we've discussed it many a night. Now of course my field is in photography but many of the same questions apply.'

'That is why I called you, the lady wishes most specifically to know about photography. She has a specific photo she wants to know about.'

'Can I see the photo,' she demanded briskly to Emily holding her hand.

'No, I'm sorry'

'Most unusual, however I suppose it is an Auror's secret. However if I don't see the photo it may hamper my ability to help, each photograph is different and has it's own personality'

'That is exactly what she wants to know, Obscura. The overview'

'Well now, as I say not seeing it will effect my ability to analyse', she said directly catching Emily's eye and seeing she wouldn't budge, 'but I will do my best.'

'Now I assume Talbot has given you the basic overview of the mystical properties of painting.' She said, pausing to see Emily nod, 'it is true much of the same principles able however there is a further layer to the process in photography that doesn't exist in the magically artistry of painting. Whilst there are two properties that imbue the magical paint with life, the emotions of the painter and the emotions of the subject while they are being painted, there is third moment in photography. That moment is in the development of the film. The developer, who ever they may be, and their relation to the subject can intone it with a mood, if you will, that the subjects of the photo live under. Take a family photo where maybe some of the family were at odds during the picture but the person who develops the film does so remembering it as a happy moment that nostalgia will permeate into the fabric of the photo and begin to affect the subjects and how they act and behave. Eventually the photographed children will become happier.

'Of course that is not where the life of the photo ends. Now I am sure Talbot gave you a guild line but let me continue on with the family portrait. So while the children may have been fighting at the time and that character imbibe in each subject. Another emotion that leaks into the photographs collage is the person taking the photograph and last the developer puts there stamp on it which can effect each subject of the photograph in ways it is hard to tell. However this last character has an effect little know, it doesn't just work inwards on the subjects of the photograph it works outwards on the viewer of photograph effecting how they feel when they view it too. So in the instance of the family portrait if the parent develops it remembering it as a happy moment the family viewing it will begin to view it as a happy memory and eventually that will affect the subjects of the photo overwhelming the emotions captured at the time with the new nostalgic happiness which they will enact out"

'The magic used in photography is subtle and still largely unfathomable. Now I am sure Talbot told you it was my family that invented the formulae for making living photography. Now my great great grand father was a muggle and my great great grandmother was from a strong magical family and they forged the new world of muggle science with the old world of magic in a way unfathomable at the time. In many ways what they did was unfathomable to themselves. They were two of the most knowledgeable magicians of their time and great inventors. Brilliant minds however are useless at keeping records, as I suppose all brilliant minds are. You have to be crazy to think up ideas outside the norms, and crazy people don't keep records.'

'How they did it, to invent the formulae no one knows as they didn't leave a record behind but they did have enough sense to make their fortune by patenting the formulae and selling it like crazy. It wasn't their only invention but it is the most remembered. As I say almost everyone can make the formulae now but no one knows how it was made originally and much of the mysteries of magical photography remain that, a mystery'

'I know more that anyone else in the world but even I don't know why it does what it does, I only understand that it does. Even paintings don't have such a relationship with the viewer. Of course the subject of a painting can say the most witty or vile things and leave the viewer happier or more miserable upon leaving, however the subjects of photography cannot speak. Words may come from paintings but something else comes out of the photograph. Words can go into a painting but something deeper goes into the photograph. There is a muggle myth that being photographed steals a bit of your soul and maybe that's what goes in and out of a photograph'

'I'm sure Talbot has told you of the photographs who's subjects have changed. The happy couple viewed by the bitter ex will stop being happy and turn their backs on each other. There is a two-way relationship that exists with the photograph; it is not a passive being, on one level it is affecting you and on another level you are affecting it. The photograph has a nature it wants to return to, that which is imbued with by the three stages but it has a life after the taking and can change.'

'I have a question', Emily piped in, Hep gave a nod to say she may proceed, 'do the people in the photograph feel emotions? Are they like real people?'

'They are not real people but do they feel like real people, I don't know.'

'May I interject', spoke Talbot, 'I can say that portraits of a person are not real people but we experience them as real people. I know wizards and witches who have developed deep relationships with portraits. Perhaps they are like ghosts, real yet not real. Can they feel as their real counterparts did? I don't know. They can learn things their real life counterpart never did but it seems that knowledge never makes them grow as a person or change as real person can; they were always who they were at the moment they were painted. A man can come back to a painting of himself and be a different person and tell the portrait everything he has learnt but the portrait will not become the man who looks upon it presently. Yet the portrait is still that man in many ways. At the moment he was painted he was that man and could be no other.'

'It is true a portrait is a living moment captured in time, as is a photograph', Hep carried on from Talbot with evident intrigue, 'however the photograph lives on in a way the painting doesn't. As far as I know no painting has ever changed its character. What is in the paint is in the paint it cannot be infused with more. Yet the photo has life after completion, the photograph has a nature it wants to return to, yet it can bend to the will of those who view it or those who view it to the will of the photo.'

Emily felt like she was watching a fragment of a discussion played out over a hundred evenings. They both looked alive and furtive as if enjoying themselves immensely.

'As you say only words leave a painting but emotions eminent from a photo'

'But do they feel?' Emily asked.

'I don't know,' Talbot replied, 'ask a portrait and they'll say yes but can you trust their answer. Are they only echoing the person they are an imitation of? Who of course would say they cannot feel'

'One cannot know', Cura said kindly, 'perhaps the photograph is its own world inhabited by living beings of a simple nature doomed to feel one emotion for ever, have one instinct forever; that captured in the moment the photograph was taken. One cannot know, perhaps we don't think about such things or we'd never take another photograph or paint another portrait. I think I'm glad you never showed me that photograph after all'

'However should you ever truly believe you need us Talbot and I will help in anyway possible' She finished

She thanked them and got up to leave, seeing she had got all she could at this moment. Talbot lamented that he did not have more time to paint her but he felt he had captured enough for an interesting portrait, however if she'd like to return anytime he'd be grateful to capture more of her. Emily gave a non-committal answer but thanked them again before leaving. She hadn't gotten the answers she wanted but it seemed there were no answers in this matter, just rational speculation. She took out the photograph and said, 'you're not alone; I'm coming to get you'.

She didn't know if it would help but she had to do something.

That night Emily took out the two photographs like she did most nights but this time she started talking to the Adults in the room, the person behind the camera.

'I know you're there, all of you. I'm coming to get you.'

They stood there staring out at her with there blank expression. One of the men moved out of the line they had formed and the rest moved over forming rank. He started raping the child behind them as their malicious blank faces started to form identical smiles on each of them. Emily could hear the silent screams of the little girl in the background however she refused to look away.

'I am coming to get you. You will fear me and you will beg and tremble at my feet for my mercy by the end. I shall show you none'

She started at the photo unflinching until the man stopped, the adults were back in a row and the smiles had faded from their faces.

From then on she when she was at home alone she would keep the photo out where she could see them. Occasionally she would see them tormenting their victims either by one of the women pissing on the boy, the men butchering their body or the men and women sexually gratifying themselves with the child. When she saw those happening she stared at the photo and repeated 'I am coming for you, I am coming for you, I am coming for you'. Whether she meant to rescue the child or punish the adults she was never sure, at different moments she meant a different meaning and sometimes she meant both at once.