"Terence?" Luneta called. There was a brief moment before he replied. "What is it, Luneta? This had better be good; I was in the middle of a chess game with Barnabas the Barmy."

"So sorry to interrupt," Luneta huffed, rolling her eyes. "I had a visitor."

"Hmm. Did you really."

"Terence, are you even paying attention to me?"

"Of course. You just said that you had a visitor."

"Right. Well, it was a young witch by the name of Hermione, and-"

"I think I've heard of her. Wasn't she the one with the troll-"

"Terence! You interrupted me! Let me finish!"

"Of course," he said smoothly. "So sorry to interrupt."

She glared at him. "As I was saying, Hermione was trying to find information about soul magic. She said that there is a wizard who has been delving into it."

His face grew grim. "I was afraid of that."

"What!" she shrieked. "Why haven't you done something about it?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Luneta, I am just a painting. There is very little that I could have done about it."

"Well, you could at least have told someone what was going on, instead of just ignoring it and hoping that it would go away."

He waved his painted hand at her. "Never mind that, tell me what you know."

"Hermione said that there was a dark wizard, she didn't tell me his name, or what he's going by. You know, for some reason all the dark wizards or witches who try to take over the world make up a fancy new name for themselves that will strike fear into people's hearts. I don't know why. Maybe that's the reason they turn dark, because they don't like their name. Maybe it's all just built up resentment towards their parents. With that in mind, I probably should have gone dark since Father kept saying he named me after his favorite dog." She scowled.

"Focus here, Luneta!"

"Alright, there's no need to snap at me! Anyway, going back to before I was so rudely interrupted, this dark wizard has split his soul into several separate pieces."

"Several?" Terence choked out. "Are you sure?"

"It's what Hermione said. She said that he has become somewhat insane as a result. I showed her Great-Aunt Morgan's book."

"Good, good," he nodded distractedly. "That will definitely help her."

"Are you going to do anything else to help them?" Luneta asked.

He looked pained. "As I said before, Luneta, we are just paintings, Luneta. We are not intended to take an active part in the lives of those who are still alive. I know it can hurt, to have to watch and not be able to do anything, but-"

She folded her arms, staring him down as if she knew something he thought he had hidden. "You know, for most of us, that's not an issue. Most of the paintings are so old and have seen so much that they don't even have the capacity to care about the living world anymore."

"You do," he pointed out.

She made a face. "Not as much as I should. But I am still bound by the spells we used to create this painting. I can give people hints, or advice, or tell them where to look. But I'm still just a memory of the real Luneta. A watered down, weaker version of Luneta."

"Do you have a point with this?"

"Don't try and dodge my point, Terence. I know that whatever spell was used to enchant your painting is different than the one used on mine. The memory saved in your paint is stronger. You're not just a memory of Terence, saved inside a painting, it's almost as if you are the real Terence, enchanted into a painting." Her eyes bored into him. He looked discomfited.

She nodded, satisfied. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't have to. You've basically told me, anyway," she told me, unable to keep the satisfied tone out of her voice.

He laughed awkwardly. "What were we talking about, before-" he made a vague hand gesture.

"We were talking about you helping destroy Tom Riddle's horcruxes."

He sighed heavily. "There is a spell I know that could help them. I just need to figure out how to contact them."

She smiled. "I think I may have a solution for you."