Disclaimer: These are not my characters. Harry Potter and the world in which he lives are the property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros., and I do not intend infringement upon their rights as such in any manner. The plot and the Hogwarts lounge are mine.

WP RITUAL magic has been left largely unrefined, and as such is extremely dangerous. The channels that confine and direct other forms of magic do not limit the ritual magics, and as such it can be mistakenly or even unknowingly used. According to a study conducted by the Wizarding National Institute for the Dissection and Discussion of Life, etc., etc., this is one of the greatest dangers to the population. "Ritual magic can destroy lives, faster than you can say WNFTDADOF," one top WNFTDADOF researcher said. Of course, that isn't very fast at all, but it is also beside the point. Politicians are moving quickly to rectify this terrifying situation.

* * * * *

"There are many goings-on in this school of which I am unaware. It would be impossible to know every detail, every little smidgen of activity - and so, I don't. That said, I did hear of something, fifteen years ago, but did not think it important enough to truly register. I fear I have made a terrible mistake..."

Hermione looked at the Headmaster with interest. There were any number of things going through her mind, most of them centered around Dumbledore's omnipotence; though she was also decoding a particularly challenging arithmancy problem that had been annoying her for a few days.

"Ritual magic is an iffy area, often misunderstood and thus misused. As it was." The twinkle, which had dwelled continuously in the dear Headmaster's eyes since the debate was announced, had dimmed considerably. This was serious.

* * * * *

They stood in a semi-circle, shoulder to shoulder, denying any a view of what was within. Candles flickered on the walls, the moon passed behind a wisp of a cloud, and prefects prowled the halls - all in all, regardless of what they were doing, they were not supposed to be doing it; at least not at that time of night.

Four heads-- two bushes of black hair, one of a well-combed brown, and finally a long blondish-red--peered anxiously at what hung upon the wall.

"Padfoot, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Shove it, Moony, before you're out of the circle. I need to concentrate... humph..." Paint spots smudged his cheeks, forehead, arms, and, amazingly enough, the back of his neck. Sirius Black was not one to go at anything half-heartedly, least of all if it was an artistic endeavor of his.

"Honestly, though, his eyebrows look a bit bushier than normal..." The lone brunette cringed as Sirius carefully set down his paint brush, and glowered menacingly in his direction.

"If you want to criticize, I advise you to do it from a distance. Moony. All right?" He picked up his brush, rubbed it cherishingly, and went back to work.

The blonde poked the silent black-haired boy, and nodded over in Moony's direction. They smothered simultaneous laughs, as he looked cautiously in Sirius' direction, and resumed muttering comments under his breath.

"Remus is far too much a perfectionist for his own good..."

"I can't believe we haven't managed to cure him of that, in all these seven years." Peter sighed as Sirius stopped painting. "Oh, come along, Padfoot - you'd think it were the bloody Mona Lisa. Just get on with it!"

"It's got to be perfect. I just know, I can make it perfect... so I've got to do it."

This was a bit too insightful for the three onlookers, who fell silent at his words.

The quiet was short-lived, however; Sirius spoke up again, though this time it was to someone else entirely.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but you've got to quit moving! I can't do this if you fidget..."

This earned a decided snort from the knight, who sat with his arm held out on a table. "I'd like to see you sit still this long, a troublemaker as yourself - so don't talk."

Sirius shook his head and went on with the picture, carefully compensating when Cadogan chose to move. "I'm done. I'm done, and it is perfect..."

"Let us see, then!"

"First, Wormtail, the spell--you have it?"

"Of course--did you think I hadn't? Move over."

Padfoot stepped away from the wall, and let Wormtail take his place.

"Wormtail! Stop laughing, you've got to get the spell in place--the Prefects will only stay away so long, you know how strict they are! We're lucky we got them to agree to avoid us for this long."

"Or rather, you got them to avoid us, Prongs."

"A perk, Moony, a perk. Now, get on with it!"

"Get on with what, James? Because your time was up awhile ago."

"Lily! You've no idea how happy I am to see you..."

"And you have no idea how happy I'll be when I see whatever you're trying to hide back there. Come on, Sirius, Remus, Peter--if it's funny enough, I'll let you get away with just a couple of points deducted."

"Hurry, Peter," Remus whispered urgently.

"Um... I can't remember the last part! I've got it written down..."

"You don't have time! Make something up!"

"Um... Vivechela Pictaralma!"

"Peter, I can hear you. Now, get out here!"

"Yes, Lily," Peter said, somewhat morosely, but, in an aside to the knight, he whispered, "Run. Or ride--just get away!"

Lily looked upon the painting they had been hunched so intently around, and saw--nothing. Nothing was there, not a thing out of place. She eyed the three boys, and James, suspiciously. "There's nothing there, at least not now, so you'll just have to tell me all about it. Won't you?"

They looked at each other.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

* * * * *

"Obviously, the spell was wrong. Surprising, since Peter was our top Charms student of the time... of course, that only meant that the miss-spell was very strong, very strong indeed. Strong enough to take from the life-force and essential being of another, the object of the spell.

"Painters of moving pictures go through extensive training, and years of it. It is a most difficult task, for, in each picture, a bit of the painter's soul must be added, to give the subjects their intelligence, humor, and life. Artists are taught how to extract a part of the soul, a part that will not cripple them, but still, they can never have long careers. There is only so much of the soul that can be lost without madness or death.

"Peter, unfortunately, was not trained in this art. He unknowingly took a part of Severus Snape's soul that should never be lost--the part which is represented in Sir Cadogan's fine tattoo. The fun, the wildness... And without them, Professor Snape has been severely crippled. Luckily, I think I know of a way to return it to him--but I will need your help, Miss Granger. You have a similar talent in Charms to Peter, and your strength would be greatly appreciated."

"Of course, Headmaster." She looked up with determination in her eyes. "When shall we begin?"

A/N: I've changed one thing, in chapter 8. One word. Unfortunately, I did not think about that word carefully enough. I hope you don't get hanged up upon that one word; I honestly didn't mean to cause any trouble... I'm sorry if it causes any.

Many thanks to my reviewers; I hope you will enjoy this chapter! Also, apologies for the time it took to get it out!

Miss Trisana Granger: I agree, the lemon drop is scary... and worst of all, I have no idea where he came from!

Blue eyes: Very glad you think it's funny; hope this chapter is slightly funny, as well--it didn't really turn out as funny as the others have been...

Isadora: Glad you like, especially the lemon drop. The poor thing, created out of Albus Dumbledore's mind...