Chapter Twenty-One

The Paintings in the Closet

It was snowing by the time Jennifer returned that evening, carefully carrying a pair of phials wrapped in cloth into the castle and up the stairs, unsurprised to find the Study doors open when she arrived. Hermione was also there with a clipboard on her lap and her feet on a stool, smiling at her when she came in. Severus put aside his work when he saw her, looking at her intently.

"I finally got the last of those tests done," Jennifer said. "I have to say I will be so glad getting a working lab again. This back and forth stuff is a real pain."

"Never mind that, have you found anything out?"

"Well, yes and no," Jennifer said. Severus frowned.

"Why is it any time I ever ask anything about those blasted paintings I get a mixed answer?"

"Sorry," Jennifer said, uncovering the phials and handing them over. "Basically, there is some connection with the dust and the contagion, because even though I didn't find anything substantial, there is some magic residue in the dust of all the infected paintings where I didn't find any of the random samples John, Pyther and I have been collecting. I wonder if it isn't like…well, rather like sweat during a fever. The magical energy also has a mild yet significant negative charge…which is probably why they attract more dust in the first place."

"That would imply that there is some sort of hard differentiation between what's going on beneath the surface of the painting and the surface itself," Severus mused, glancing at the paintings on the wall. Caprica gazed back intently, while the rest seemed oblivious to any activity in the room at all.

"You don't suppose there's any possibility that whatever is causing this is cross-dimensional?" Hermione asked. Jennifer frowned at her, but saw at a glance from Severus was wondering the same thing.

"Look, I'm hardly any sort of expert in magic and magnetics," Jennifer said. "But I'm not sure how anything like that could be possible…in most of these paintings, all we're talking about is a piece of lightly charmed canvas with of paint that consists of nothing more than pigment, a basic mimic potion, and a drop of blood."

"What about that tangle you both had with that Mallus Craw painting?" Hermione asked. Jennifer shook her head.

"That was different, that was actually a mirror with an entrapment spell on it…well, plus one very malicious ghost," Jennifer admitted. "But mirrors have always been known for their properties in creating interspatial dimensions."

"I wonder now if that's only because somehow it's easier for us…humans in general…to wrap our heads around the idea that a mirror can open a door to another place since it truly can seem to be an extension into another room," Severus said. "Tell me, Jennifer, when Alicia travels through paintings, what is she in if not an interspatial dimension? A location between locations?"

"Well, I thought of it more like the way Pyther explained it…that she sort of becomes part of the painting and travels like they do…"

"But she's still there, Jennifer, as are all that travel with her. And how exactly do you explain how the different painting images move from one frame to another?" Severus asked.

"I just assumed it was something in the paint," Jennifer murmured.

"Which never leaves the frame of the painting," Severus said. Jennifer thought about it until her head hurt.

"Okay, all the sudden your theory makes more sense than mine does, although I don't know how it could possibly work," Jennifer said.

"Yes, well, ironic that we take so much for granted as being 'magic' and not bothering to give it any further thought until it somehow goes awry on us," Severus said. "For simplicity sake and our sanity's sake…not to mention having the lack of time to get into any lengthy theoretical debate on how it's possible at all considering we see it happening every day of our lives…we'll call where the paintings' sentience exist an interspatial dimension for now. This means that something or some being has somehow invaded that space to cause this, although now we have evidence that the disruption does seem to affect our world to some degree as well," he mused, glancing at phial. "Which I suppose makes sense, considering that every time someone paints a painting it opens another door. But that there would be any physical sign other than the clouding of the painting itself bothers me," he murmured. "Is there any possibility that this residue can cause contagion? It came out of the dimension, perhaps it could cross back in, and if so…" Severus paused then, trying to work something out. Jennifer frowned as she tried to follow his thoughts, but quickly got lost.

"I need to think," he said at last. "Jennifer, if this residue is at all contagious, you three may have inadvertently added the contagion back in when you were taking samples. Grab John and Pyther when he gets here to go over all the paintings in the castle, and pay special attention to any you drew dust from. Perhaps if we're lucky, it will be."

"You want it to be contagious?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's the first tangible thing we've had to work with since this started," Severus pointed out. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

"Wait, what about the duty list?" Hermione said with exasperation, drawing his attention to her clipboard.

"Oh, um…just finish it up and leave it on my desk," Severus said distractedly. "By the way, Jennifer, you'll be spending your lunches with Hermione relearning the Deputy job until the Christmas holidays. I trust that'll give you plenty of time to get things in order, since you'll be taking over the position when we get back." Jennifer blanched noticeably as Severus went to the back room, glancing at Hermione dubiously.

"Don't worry, Jennifer. I have everything alphabetized, color coded, and indexed…and I'm going to write a notebook full of step-by-step instructions on everything you might run into, just in case," Hermione promised.

"Well, that's lovely, isn't that lovely? I'm sure it will be," Jennifer said with such lack of enthusiasm as she left the room that Hermione made a note to herself to ask Sagitarri if he would cater lunch for a while.

Francis got up without hesitation when Jangler rapped on his vault, moving the top aside with his wand and sitting up.
"You know, perhaps it would be easier if we kept the shop time on Greenwich," Jangler said when Francis reached for his watch and adjusted the sunset time.

"I'd rather just follow the rest of town, especially considering Alicia is sure to ask if I did change it," Francis said, getting up and throwing on his suit.

"Ah, yes, how was your date last night?" Jangler asked.

"It wasn't a date, we simply went to a Quidditch game," Francis said, frowning at him. "But as it turned out, it was rather enlightening. We saw Alicia's cousin there in one of the Gold Diggers' team boxes. She also saw us," Francis said with amusement, "although she didn't seem too happy to see me."

"That young lady has been on the naughty list for so long the other Elves will probably give her a permanent name plaque," Jangler said dryly, and Francis chuckled softly.

"Even when she was young, Zoë felt it was her against the world. She really hasn't changed much," Francis admitted. "Even so, she does have a good heart when she chooses to show it." Jangler gazed at him dubiously. "No, she does, and it's kept her above water before. Perhaps someday she'll learn there's more to life than just fighting all the time," he said.

"I wouldn't hold my breath, sir," Jangler advised, handing Francis his coat. "You will be keeping your evening appointments this time?"

"I plan to, yes," Francis agreed as Jangler walked him to the studio door.

"Won't that be a refreshing change," Jangler said, but Francis simply chuckled at the Elf before slipping out the door.

After a couple quick portal hops, Francis Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and was walking across the courtyard when he saw Jennifer hurrying out to meet him with a grim expression on her face.

"What is it? More paintings lost?" Francis asked with concern.

"Three found so far," Jennifer said. "Field of lavender near the containment room, the nest of egrets…I put the Rowena statue back at the door for now…and a painting of Argus Filch just outside Carnegie's office…apparently it is possible for the paintings to contract this through the dust samples we took."

"Really?" Pyther said with a frown. "I was certain it was all internal."

"Yes, Severus is working on some theories on that," Jennifer said.

"How did the egrets get infected? I know we didn't test any of the security paintings," Francis frowned.

"My best guess at this point was that they were practicing hunting in the fields. John is looking for the portrait of their mother now, she was taken down for repairs some time ago."

"Goodness, if she was stacked with other paintings I hope she didn't infect any of them too! Where are they?" Francis asked worriedly.

"He thought it might be in the wardrobe in my classroom…your old painting room. I haven't had time to go through it," Jennifer explained.

"Well, we'd best do it now," Francis said, Jennifer nodding in agreement and following him up the stairs. John was already there, glancing through a stack of framed paintings in the classroom.

"Ah, good, there you are! There are tons of paintings stored in there, I imagine we've gotten a bit behind on them lately," John said. "I brought up a few from the maintenance closet too, they're over there," he said, pointing to another stack of framed paintings leaning against the wall. "I didn't see the eagle, though."

"What about these?" Jennifer asked, peering in the closet. Francis looked inside to see the upper shelf filled with paintings rolled up in scroll cases. Just beneath it, a stack of unframed paintings had been neatly laid flat with layers of paper and cloth in between each one, a flat board placed on top.

"I organized those a few years ago," Francis said distantly. "If the diving eagle painting was damaged recently, it'd probably be one of the framed ones."

"Perhaps this be the one, then?" John said. Jennifer stepped out to see that John had slightly pulled out a frame filled with clouds.

"Ah, lovely," Jennifer said, then went over to a second wardrobe filled with her own equipment, pulling out some lab towels.

"Separate the paintings just in front of and behind it for certain," Francis said. "I'll pull out the rest of the framed paintings."

"I thought I had them all," John said, carefully moving some of the paintings at the front to one side, leaning them against the wall.

"There's a couple more hidden back here," Francis said, pulling out a pair that had been wrapped haphazardly in black cloth. But as he pulled them out and unwrapped a corner to take a look, he found himself stepping back wishing he hadn't found them.

"What's wrong, sir? You look as if you've seen your own ghost," John said when he looked up.

"I believe I just have," Francis said quietly, and Jennifer went over and pulled up the cloth to see the half-finished painting of Alicia, knowing before she even unwrapped the other one that it was the one Alicia was painting of Francis Pyther. "Why were these not destroyed?"

"Dumbledore must have decided to save them," Jennifer said quietly.

"What is this? Oh, but that's your daughter as a young girl, isn't it, Professor?" John said with a surprised smile. "Pretty thing, wasn't she?"

"Well, she's even more lovely now," Jennifer said firmly. "Isn't she, Pyther?"

"We'd best get the eagle and the other two paintings near it into quarantine," Francis said, turning away.

"I should take the eagle up, since I'm the one who handled her," John said. Francis nodded to John as he put on his own gloves to get the other two.

It was then that Severus strode into the room, his eyes first fixing on the clouded frame before taking in the rest of the scene. He paused a moment as his eyes met that of Alicia with a look of surprise, but it soon turned back into the concerned expression he came in with.

"Have all of these been exposed?" Severus asked.

"We don't know…those two for certain," Jennifer said, pointing to the slightly torn painting of the castle as seen from the courtyard, and one of a rather sour-looking wizard in a black flat hat. "Those are the ones the eagle was sandwiched between."

"These others will need to be carefully watched, Severus," Francis said.

"Well, I don't want them in the containment room, it's not worth the risk," Severus said, frowning at the Alicia portrait again. "Will these two wander?"

"Um, no, I don't think so, Professor, we…they're not far enough along," Francis answered quietly.

"Yes, aren't we lucky," Severus said in such a dry tone that Francis wisely decided not to reply as his eyes darted around the walls of the room. His eyes then fell to a small, lone picture at the back of the class and went over to it, inspecting it.

"Hi, Dad!" the portrait of Corey said where he stood painting the stick figure of his cat Cheshire. He frowned as he studied the rest of the class, then grew even more unsettled when he saw Amadeus Longbottom and Roger Baylor in the back not far from where a pregnant Jennifer Craw sat on a stool, half-painting, half-watching the class.

"This one needs moved to the confinement room," Severus said after a moment.

"What? No we don't!" Corey protested. "We're fine where we are!"

"Professor, we haven't left the painting since you told us not to," Danny added from where she was sitting painting Redwing.

"I'm hardly going to get into an argument with a painting," Severus said curtly.

"Severus, they haven't left the painting," the portrait of Jennifer said in a chiding tone. "I am hardly going to let them wander about in the middle of a class."

"And just who is preventing you from wandering, might I ask?" Severus put in. Behind him, the real Jennifer put her hands on her hips.

"I am, of course!" Corey said indignantly. Severus sneered slightly at that.

"Yes, that's very reassuring," Severus said before taking the painting down, ignoring their protests. "Jennifer, let's put all the questionable paintings up in here for now. I'll set up some sort of watch during times you're not in class for a couple of days so we can keep an eye on them, and I want every one of them dusted and tested."

"All right, Severus," Jennifer said resignedly, attempting not to think of just how much work that was going to involve. Severus stepped out of the room with the painting still in hand, giving each painting in the hall a cursory inspection before moving up the main stairs, pausing every floor to glance at the paintings before moving on and down the corridor, only pausing once to frown at a pair of Ravenclaws that were pushing their curfew down to the minute. Nervously, they hurried along faster, and Severus shook his head at the distraction, finding his way to the Confinement Room.

"This is cruel and unusual punishment if you ask me," Corey complained as Severus adjusted some of the paintings to make room for them near a corner. "How come we're being put in jail when we didn't do anything wrong that you know of?"

"Exactly what do you mean by 'that I know of?'" Severus frowned at the painting. Corey grinned. Severus looked over at the painting Jennifer but she seemed to be oblivious to the conversation. "Yes, I definitely think both of you are better off in here."

"I'm going to be bored out of my mind!" Corey whined, but Severus ignored it, turning his attention to checking the other paintings before finally stepping back out of the room, closing the door. "At least you could have left the lights on!" Corey shouted. "Honestly, how are we going to paint in the dark?"

When Pimra entered the potion room the next morning, she found herself stopping short, staring at the walls in wonder at the large collection of ragtag paintings that now hung on the walls. Some had small tears or threadbare sections, and others just needed a good cleaning. But more importantly, the painting that had been there wasn't there anymore. Helena, who had walking beside her, turned around when she stopped.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"It's not here anymore," Pimra murmured, getting a puzzled look in response. "The painting that was in this room yesterday. You don't suppose it was taken over by that fog, do you?"

"Does it matter?" Helena asked. On the Slytherin side of the room, Jill hissed and pointed Helena to her seat.

"I'll explain later," Pimra murmured, then took her seat, glancing at their last list of components and properties one last time before Professor Craw came in with the tests. As she was passing them out, Janus Craw suddenly materialized sitting in a chair in the back of the room. Jennifer simply nodded to him as he floated out, and didn't see when Janus gazed back at Pimra before fading through the door.

The Professor tapped Pimra's desk to get her attention as she put the test down, then finished handing out the last of them behind her.

"There's only going to be a couple more of these before the holidays, so I hope you put your best effort in," Jennifer told them. "Most of this is straight memorization except for the last five formulas, so you should know it. Once you're done, don't forget to pick up your new homework list when you turn it in. You can work on it until we start the lab."

Pimra sighed softly to herself as she turned over the paper. At least with Helena's help studying she had been able to memorize most of the terms, but even with Lucky's tutoring, the concepts didn't come easy to her. It also didn't help knowing that even if she did manage to pass the last three, it was more than likely to be too little too late, for her marks the rest of the term were close to the bottom of the class. Would the fact that she was improving be enough to keep her parents from coming down too hard on her during the holidays? Pimra wasn't convinced. Distractedly, she looked up from her paper to see Jennifer furrowing her brows at her, so Pimra put her nose back down and finished it, finally giving up on getting the proofs on her formulas to match and turning it in as it was.

Grabbing her homework, Pimra started reading, wishing that class was over already. Helena turned hers in next, grinning at Pimra as she took her homework back and started reading as well. But the rest of the class dragged on, and soon Jennifer was looking at her watch in annoyance and tapping her quill on the desk. It was then that Pimra realized that they weren't going to have time for a lab at the rate the rest of the class was taking. She grinned with relief, for Sandy had proved to be a less than stellar lab partner, and it meant there would be one less disaster for the day.

"You have ten minutes left," Jennifer said at last, scanning the faces around the room once more before turning her attention back to marking papers. As Pimra marked her place and put her books in order, she saw a figure float through the wall near the art closet and realized it was Professor Ravenclaw, wearing an expression that indicated he was in a particularly depressed mood that day. "All right everyone, time's up…don't forget to pick up your homework," she reminded them as they reluctantly got up to turn them in. But Pimra darted out of the classroom, hoping to get a moment in the Trophy Room before lunch.

"Wait, where are you going?" Helena asked, hurrying to catch up. But as they got to the room, Pimra bumped right into Dale Chance, who was in the process of walking out of it.

"Sorry about that, Pimra. You all right?" Dale asked her, gently helping her stay on her feet. Pimra lost all color in her face and gaped at him.

"She was until you blundered into her like that, just who do you think you are, anyhow?" Helena snapped at him, pulling her back. "And what were you doing in there?"

"Wrong turn," Dale said. "Well, I need to take care of something before lunch. See you ladies later," he said, glancing thoughtfully at a paper in his hand before walking down the corridor. Helena turned to Pimra, shaking her by the shoulders.

"Hey, what is the matter with you?" she asked.

"D…didn't you hear him?" Pimra mumbled.

"What?" Helena asked.

"Dale Chance knew my name!" Pimra finally blurted out. Helena rolled her eyes.

"He's in Ravenclaw, what do you expect, silly?" Helena asked.

"Yes, but still…"

"Come on, let's go to lunch," Helena said with exasperation. Pimra glanced in the Trophy Room, her eyes fixing on the painting on the wall before she nodded, following Helena as the majority of her classmates filed out of the classroom as well.

Exhausted and not looking forward to her lunch with Hermione in the slightest, Jennifer quickly put her own work away as the last student left, glancing every now and again at Icarus, who was floating just below the picture of Alicia and staring at it with unnerving intensity.

"I hope you know you're supposed to be watching all the paintings, Icarus, not just that one," Jennifer said with exasperation as she grabbed a clean notebook to take with her.

"I know," Icarus said forlornly. "But why waste time with the ones that aren't dangerous?"

"Exactly what do you mean by that, Ick?" Jennifer demanded, but Icarus simply faded away, leaving her to growl to herself a moment before reluctantly heading to the Deputy Headmaster's office.

Each of the seven members of the Fifth House had different reasons as to why evening study time was their favorite time of the day. Lucky wasn't only starting to make progress in Transfiguration with Laura's help, but with Connie came someone she could chat with at meal times. Shy Pimra had finally found a friend in strong-willed Helena, and Helena had found her sister again. Laura felt less like an only child; while Lindsay began to realize her intense desire to help others gain a sense of self…something that she often longed for. And young Ambrose once again found a foothold in Hogwarts, feeling as if he belonged as strongly as he had before the disguise had come off his first year.

Often Boulderdash would be present in his office or even sometimes in the storeroom; never interrupting or getting involved other than answering an occasional question (usually from Ambrose, still deep into his history project). Mostly the Goblin spent his time to either reading books or repairing them. As strict as he was on the library floor, back in the storeroom they could be themselves without apparent criticism. In fact, it had gotten to the point that the original house members didn't so much as lower their voices when he walked in no matter what the topic of conversation, although Pimra and Connie often gave him nervous glances when he settled in the storeroom itself. But Lucky and the others had adopted the unusually docile Goblin as their unofficial house advisor, especially since he didn't seem to care less what they did as long as they actually got some studying done and stayed out of the main library.

Just outside the office door, Dale Chance took up a somewhat permanent table, watching with interest the comings and goings of those that passed within while he studied with any number of his friends who filled the seats next to him. Lucky was almost always late after coming in from practicing forms, and often, Dale noticed, Ambrose left relatively early, and always with his history book in hand.

That night was no exception, although Ambrose had a large folder with him as well this time as he ran up the stairs and up to the potion room where Pyther was carefully repairing the corner of a grateful group of witches, who all sat quietly with their hands on their laps as he worked.

"I have an announcement to make!" Ambrose declared smugly as he walked in.

"And what might that be, dear boy?" Francis asked, inspecting his threadwork before reinforcing it with a charm of his own and began the task of matching paint color.

"I have finished the bulk of my report," Ambrose said. "All that's left is that last addendum chapter for the past thirty years."

"Well done!" Francis said with a beaming smile, putting his palette on his worktable as Ambrose handed it out to him. "I take it you're not going to address that part, then?"

"Oh, no, I'm going to do that too," Ambrose said. "Uncle Severus gave me permission to interview anyone on staff when I asked him if I could work with you, so I'm going to talk to some of the people that were there for some of these events. I have an appointment with Aunt Jennifer tomorrow to clear up some things about the popcorn train and some details in the Battle of Unicorns."

"That sounds like it'll prove to be an interesting conversation," Francis said with amusement, flipping through the report.

"I don't suppose you'd have time to read this? Make sure the parts we worked on are right?" Ambrose asked.

"This looks like nearly a hundred pages," Francis chuckled. "But all right, of course I will."

"Oh, don't worry about the size. A third of it is references," Ambrose said, rolling his eyes. "Professor Scribe insisted, although it's not fair. She made me go into more detail than what the original book gave."

"It never hurts to have one's ducks in a row when it comes to research," Francis assured him, pulling up a stool. "Let me go ahead and look through it now so you can do what you need to finish it."

"All right," Ambrose said, and spent the time that Francis was reading looking at all the paintings in the room.

He stopped in front of the portrait of Francis for a few moments, tilting his head at it and knew something was wrong immediately. It was the darkness…the haunted gaze of living beyond his time that seemed strangely missing. Ambrose frowned at it, wondering if whoever painted it had done it intentionally. Ambrose looked over at Francis again, too absorbed in reading to notice. It was true that on the surface the artist had gotten his strange skin coloring right and the unnatural black of his hair and the red of his eyes, but there was no fear in the painting's eyes…no apparent echoes of his death showed in his face at all. In fact, after studying it a few minutes more, Ambrose had come to the conclusion that the artist had missed the subject entirely except for an occasional, wistful glance that appeared that he had seen Francis do from time to time when he was lost in thought.

Nearby, Ambrose spotted Alicia's portrait, recognizing her at once, and obviously by a much more skilled artist. Her gaze was soft and loving, her face bright and cheerful as he had never seen her before, and she wasn't even wearing black for a change.

"Is this one of yours?" Ambrose asked thoughtfully, and Francis glanced up, frowning slightly when he saw which painting he was standing under.

"Yes, I suppose I can hardly deny it," Francis said defensively. "Not my best work."

"Well, no, not if you don't bother finishing it," Ambrose said, still gazing at it. "You should finish it." Francis stared at him a moment, then shook his head.

"No, I don't think that'd be a good idea," Francis said, trying to concentrate on his reading again. "Besides, Alicia has changed so much that she isn't even the same person anymore."

"But that's what's so interesting about it," Ambrose said. "I've never seen her happy like this before. She's always been the broody artist! I've only seen her smile once, and that was right after she got her eyesight back, and that was more out of relief than anything."

"I can't imagine how terrible that must have been for her," Francis murmured.

"It wasn't a party for anyone else around her either," Ambrose grinned. "You should have seen what she did to her room." Francis gazed at the painting thoughtfully, not saying anything as Alicia gazed down out him lovingly. He never saw that look anymore, either. "I still say you should try picking up where you left off. Uncle Severus always says you should always finish what you start. Come to think of it, he's been saying that a lot to me, lately. He's gotten almost as obsessed about my report as I have."

"Yes, well, I doubt he would agree with you in this case. I rather like it the way it is, why spoil it?" Francis asked. Ambrose looked at him curiously.

"How could finishing it be spoiling it? Just add what's already there. If you want, I can send her a letter about it…"

"No, no, that's hardly necessary, I know where she is," Francis said, putting the report back in the folder. "Thank you, but it's probably best left alone."

"All right, what do I know, I'm only eight," Ambrose said with a shrug, and Francis smiled, tapping the folder as he held it back.

"You may be young, but you are the most profound eight year old I have ever met, and after six hundred years, I've met a great many," Francis assured him. "Your report looks fabulous, Mr. Bailey. I'm sure when you get it done even the Headmaster will be impressed."

"Thanks, though he's awful hard to impress about anything," Ambrose said.

"That much I know," Francis said with amusement. "Good evening, Mr. Bailey."

"Good night, Mr. Pyther, I'll let you know when I get the rest of it done," Ambrose promised before he ran out of the door to head back to his house rooms.

"That boy is so much like his father," said the voice of Icarus from behind Francis.

"He certainly is," Francis agreed with a smile before turning back to his palette to mix colors.

"Do you suppose he has a point about finishing the painting?" Icarus asked. Francis frowned at him disapprovingly.

"I can't touch that painting without ruining it, Icarus, and if you don't mind, I'm rather done with speaking of it."

"Very well, Francis," Icarus said somberly. "Although I can't help but thinking that it isn't the painting you're so afraid of ruining." Francis' expression turned cold and went back to his work, refusing to acknowledge the ghost's presence any longer.