The Fat Lady hung on the wall all Christmas day, waiting for the password that never came, waiting for students that were not present. It was almost a relief not to be forced to say the same "Password?" at every approaching person, and she could lounge casually in her portrait, relaxing.
There was no complete relaxation in Hogwarts anymore. The Fat Lady had seen too many injuries that would have been too eagerly explained away with a wave of the hand if she had bothered to ask. She had asked around the castle, though, and the students entering through her portrait hole were always the ones with the worst injuries. She had a certain pride in their being Gryffindors and their civil disobedience, just as all the portraits did of the things they hid from sight. All the information she learned about the goings-on at Hogwarts had passed through numerous ears and had the ring of second- and third-hand sources.
At the present moment, the Fat Lady wished she was not a portrait, though. She felt so detached from the world, high on the wall above it. She was only an observer, never a participator, though the one time that she had participated in the exciting events around the school landed her in shreds. She wished that she could go and visit her portrait friend Violet, but she was forced to stay here in her portrait for at least a while later. She was dependent on the students for giving her something to do.
She could not even really help in a time of crisis, like something that had happened in the June of the last year. She could only cheer on the protectors of the castle, and she felt now that she did not have much of a purpose.