Ron found himself creeping along the corridor that led to the Headmistress's Office and gave himself a mental shake. You're a teacher now, idiot. If Filch sees you, just nod and keep walking.

Still, I must remember to tell Harry to make sure he brings his Invisibility Cloak as well as that map.

No-one else seemed to be about. After a quick shufti at either end of the corridor to make sure the coast was clear, he returned to the gargoyle. "Gang aft agley," he murmured, and the gargoyle moved aside.

He had his cover story ready in case Minerva McGonagall was still in her office. Oh, Professor, I'm sorry to bother you this late … Hermione was talking about teaching and I thought I'd ask your advice …

It wasn't needed. There was no answer to his knock, and when he opened the door, the office was dark and empty.

"Lumos." The light from his wand showed that McGonagall had returned the office to much as it had been when it had been Professor Dumbledore's, except for the bizarre objects. And Fawkes.

He was careful not to touch anything, not even brushing against the furniture as he crossed the room to Dumbledore's portrait. The fact that the door had opened easily to his murmured Alohomora didn't mean anything. If I was Headmaster of Hogwarts, I'd have protective spells woven into every inch of my office.

If he set something off, there was still his cover story. I thought I'd ask your advice and when you weren't here, I just wanted to talk to Professor Dumbledore a moment. With his best pleading expression, the one that Ginny always said made him look like he'd been sent to bed without supper.

Ron raised his wand higher. "Professor Dumbledore? Are you awake?"

"Well, I am now," the familiar voice said. "Come closer, and let me see who I'm talking to."

Ron did as instructed, holding the point of his wand where it would light his face. "Professor, I'm —"

"Ronald Weasley!" Dumbledore said. "A very great pleasure to see you again, Ronald. I'm sorry I'm not able to offer you a lemon sherbet. Minerva does have some very good shortbread in the drawer of her desk."

"Er, thanks, but I'm alright." He could imagine Professor McGonagall's face if she came in to find him breaking into her desk to steal her biscuits, and it wasn't anything he wanted to see for real. "I had some questions, Professor, and I thought you might be able to help me with them."

"I will help you as much as I can, Ronald, but it may not be very much. You know the conditions upon all of us here?"

"That you help the school," Ron said.

"Yes, there's that. But we're bound to be loyal to whoever occupies this office, you see. Even if we disagree with him or her."

"That's a bit much." Ron thought of Dolores Umbridge. "What if they're bloody awful?"

"We do have the ability to make ourselves scarce," Dumbledore said. "Most of us have other paintings in other places."

"Will you please lower your voices?" another voice snarled. Ron turned and Phineas Nigellus Black gave him a sour look. "Oh, it's you. Come to blindfold me again?"

"Er, sorry about that," Ron said, not pointing out that it had been Hermione who'd done the blindfolding. "But, you know, we didn't know about Professor Snape, at the time. Or we wouldn't have blindfolded you, we would have used to give him messages."

Phineas Nigellus sniffed. "You did, boy, you just didn't know it."

"And very lucky they were, too, to have your cunning to assist them," Dumbledore said soothingly.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," Ron added. "But since you're awake, you might be able to help. And —" He looked across the other portraits, moving his wand from side to side to illuminate them, and frowned. "And Professor Snape. Where is he?"

"Severus Snape doesn't have a portrait in this room," Dumbledore said. He didn't sound regretful about it, which Ron personally thought was a bit rich, given what Snape had done because Dumbledore had asked him to.

"I suppose he didn't have time to get one painted," Ron said. He felt a bit of a lump in his throat at the thought, as if he was hearing that Snape had died. When the man had actually died, Ron had been too terrified and desperate and frantic to think much about it, except serves the treacherous git right. When he'd learnt how wrong he'd been, he'd been sorry for that thought, but somehow he'd never managed to feel sad over it. There'd been too much raw agony in the Weasley household back then for any of them to have much room to grieve for a man they'd barely known and deeply disliked, even if they did now know how wrong they'd been to do so.

Now, wondering where Snape's portrait would have hung if only he hadn't been too busy protecting the students and spying on Voldemort and bloody saving the wizarding world to have one painted, he felt the way he thought he would have if he'd read in the paper that Professor Sprout or Professor Flitwick had passed away. A bit sad, a bit nostalgic, as if the thing to do was to get together with other people who knew them and have a few drinks.

"That must be it," Dumbledore said. "But why were you wanting to talk to Severus? It was my impression you and he didn't exactly get on."

"We didn't," Ron said. "And probably we wouldn't, even if I do know he was on our side. But I think there's something wrong in Hogwarts, and Professor Snape would be one of the best people to ask about it, if there is."

"Something wrong in Hogwarts?" Phineas Nigellus asked querulously. "I think I'd know about it if there was something wrong, boy."

Dumbledore's tone was warmer, but he still sounded puzzled. "What makes you think that, Ronald?"

"Professor McGonagall's got us all back," Ron said simply. "Even had to get old Slughorn out to do it, but she's got me and Harry, Ginny and Hermione, Neville and Luna, all back working here this year, all as of two weeks ago. Hermione thinks it's for a reason."

The old Slytherin Headmaster's expression darkened at the mention of Hermione, but he held his tongue.

"Miss Granger has always excelled at logic," Dumbledore said. "But why not simply ask Minerva?"

"I intend to, if she doesn't bring it up tomorrow. But Hermione says that she doesn't think Professor McGonagall can tell us, for some reason. Is she under some sort of spell or curse?" Ron raised his wand a little higher. "If she is, you have to tell me, you know. To protect the school and to be loyal to her."

Phineas Nigellus made a rude noise. "Tell you? Do you think that if something like that happened, we're entirely without resources? Albus hangs in the Minister's office as well, you know!"

"That's a good point," Ron said placatingly, and the portrait subsided a bit.

"My, Ronald, you have grown up," Dumbledore twinkled. "Now, in answer to your quite sensible question, no, to my knowledge, Minerva McGonagall isn't under any curse, spell, or other magical compulsion. Of course, it might be not to my knowledge, but I think I would have noticed."

"Right. Good." The same as Hermione. And while Ron had accepted Hermione's wish that he not try and trick an answer from her, he didn't have any such qualms when it came to a couple of paintings. "Can you tell me what it is that Professor McGonagall knows, and Hermione Granger knows, and they can't tell anyone?"

"I'm afraid I can't," Dumbledore said, and Ron noticed that he didn't say I don't know.

"Alright. It's a secret that isn't … well, it isn't Hermione's, she said. It might be the Headmistress's, though." Ron thought it through. "Hermione said that she made a promise to someone, of her own free will, because it wouldn't cause any harm to anyone to make it, and the person she made it to had the right to ask. Was that person the Headmistress?"

"No," Dumbledore said.

"Albus …" Headmaster Black said.

"My dear Phineas, use your head. What exactly did Minerva ask us to do?"

The other portrait's eyes narrowed. "I see. You might very well be right, Albus, but I warn you, I'll have no part of it, and I'll tell Minerva all about it in the morning."

Ron felt a bit lost, and he wished he'd thought to bring Hermione with him instead of sending her to the Library. You're an Auror, he reminded himself. And a bloody chess champion. "So," he said, "Hermione wants to tell us, but can't, because she's made a promise. And Professor McGonagall wants us to know, but can't tell us, which is why she's brought us all here in a way that immediately looks suspicious." He kept the fact that it hadn't looked suspicious until Hermione had pointed it out to himself. "And you want to tell me, but can't, because the Headmistress asked you not to." My dear Phineas, use your head … "She asked you not to tell me, or maybe anybody, but she didn't ask you to keep people from finding out, did she?"

"Very good, Ronald." Dumbledore beamed. "I really think you deserve some of Minerva's shortbread."

"No, thanks, I'm good. And this promise is about a person, right? The person Hermione made her promise to. And it has to be one of the other teachers, because there's no-one else at the school right now. One of the other teachers is in some sort of trouble, aren't they?" He waited, but Dumbledore said nothing. "Right. You can't answer that, because that would break your promise, which means I'm right. One of the other teachers is in trouble, and for some reason they don't want anyone to know about it, but Professor McGonagall wants to help them, but she can't because she can't tell anyone either." He ran out of breath. "Is that about the size of it?"

"I can't say, my dear boy," Dumbledore said, but he was grinning broadly as he said it. "I absolutely cannot say."

"If you'd shown some of those brains during your schooling, you might have driven fewer of your teachers to distraction," Phineas Nigellus Black said sourly.

Ron smiled at him, glad for the second confirmation. "I bet you're right," he said. "But I'm a teacher now, so I'm sure karma will make sure I have a few students like myself in my classes."

The two former Headmasters were still laughing as Ron let himself out of the office and went back down the stairs.

Author's note: Thanks to all my readers! Do consider leaving a review if you're enjoying the story. Feedback is the only payment fanfic writers get!