Cullen Skink and Portrait-Kinks
‘And to which class do you belong, Madame?’ Snape asked. He was standing as far away from the painting as possible, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Claire Dubois glanced at the potions master. An amused smile curled up the corners of her wide mouth. ‘Oh, all three I suppose,’ she said with equanimity. ‘At one time or another. But right now the fact that I qualify for the first class, and you for the second is very fortunate. If we want to solve this riddle.’
oooOooo
The private dining room of the headmistress was a pleasant chamber with its muted colours of crème and red and its high windows. A huge painting of red poppies was displayed above the mantelpiece. At first Hermione thought it was the Muggle painting she knew, but then a soft breeze stirred the field of flowers, and the two walkers turned around, making their way back toward the distant mansion.
After the soup (something called ‘Cullen Skink’, a traditional Scottish recipe, as Minerva informed her guests), Madame Dubois took a sip of chilled Chardonnay and sighed appreciatively.
‘Very well. As you are no doubt aware, portrait-magic is soul-magic,’ Dubois began her lecture. ‘That much is widely known. The technical details, however, are another matter. Portrait-magic is closely connected to Necromancy. Nothing as dire as the creation of Inferi or Horcruxes, of course,’ —Hermione couldn’t help noticing a wicked gleam in the woman’s grey eyes at the way both Minerva and Severus jumped at the term, and she wondered just how much Claire Dubois knew about the war against Voldemort— ‘but no matter how much some of the Guild would like to deny it, it’s Necromantic magic all the same.
‘Portraits are echoes of souls that have passed beyond the Veil of the Ninth Gate. As long as the souls of the deceased stay near the Veil, the portrait will capture their echoes, and they will move and talk. Eventually, when there are no ties left between them and this world, they will begin to drift away from the Veil and go on. To Nirvana, Heaven or Hell, Krypton, or wherever their destiny may lead them. When that happens, portraits stop moving. Much like Dumbledore’s.’
Minerva frowned. ‘Is that possible where this particular portrait is concerned? It may sound selfish, but I would like to think there are still ties between Albus and several living persons.’
Claire Dubois nodded. ‘This particular paralysis is definitely not a natural occurrence. As a matter of fact, I doubt you will encounter any natural fading here. Your portraits depict people connected with this school—teachers, headmasters, former students. All of them have strong ties to Hogwarts and its inhabitants. They will probably stay close enough for as long as Hogwarts exists. Fading portraits are a phenomenon of museums, or of old houses whose families have died out.’
The portrait mistress idly toyed with her glass. ‘There are basically two ways of interfering with the magic of wizarding portraits: either with a manipulation on this side of the Veil or on the other.’
Hermione gasped. ‘But that’s—’
‘Not possible?’ Dubois delicately raised her eyebrows. ‘Many things in history have been called impossible: creating the Philosopher’s Stone, the existence of the Deathly Hallows, the return of Lord Voldemort…However, I will admit that the second option is by far the less likely. Therefore, my first tests tomorrow morning will be aimed at the first option. I will determine if there has been any manipulation of canvas, frame, or paint, either by accident or intent, via potion, Charm, or Muggle technique. I should have conclusive results as early as tomorrow evening.’
oooOooo
‘Hermione, I’m tired, too,’ Severus said with a hoarse voice.
Somehow she managed to look up, surprised that he would ever admit to something as mundane as fatigue, especially in what was essentially a classroom-setting.
‘But you need to concentrate better than that,’ he ordered her. ‘The skill and the power necessary to wield two wands are indisputable. I know you have both. Dammit, Hermione. You have to do better than that! You can do better than that!’
He gestured to the exploded pillow in front of them. A last feather was floating towards the ground. Hermione felt as if her head was about to burst apart. A headache was pounding in her temples, and she felt slightly nauseated.
When she raised her wands, her hands were trembling.
‘Fuck,’ she burst out. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me!’
She put her left wand—yew with sphinx feather—aside. Concentrating, she silently cast her spell and flicked her right wand—vine with dragon heartstring at one of the remaining pillows. Obediently, the pillow rose into the air, where it floated serenely, approximately three feet above the floor.
Hermione lowered the cushion again. She laid the wand on the table, and picked up the left wand. She narrowed her eyes and bit down on her lip. ‘Wingardium Leviosa,’ she thought, frowning with intense concentration.
With a jerk, the pillow shot up into the air. It came to a halt at a higher level than before and kept shuddering awkwardly.
‘You used your right hand,’ Severus commented dryly.
Hermione blinked. ‘I did. Damn. I’m sorry. I’m just so weary, and my head is hurting.’
Severus didn’t seem to hear her. ‘Lower that cushion, and switch to your left hand.’
She sighed but obeyed. It was so embarrassing to be taken through the basic exercises of wielding two wands again at this point in her studies. She’d assumed she was beyond that by now. Right hand and right wand first. Right hand and left wand second. Left hand and left wand next. Both hands and both wands after that…When she moved her hand, she was painfully aware of how much less refined her flick and swish were with her left. But worse—her magic didn’t seem to react the way it was supposed to.
The pillow twitched.
That was all.
“Binder. Someone who can banish and bind demons, zombies, and spectres easier than others.”
Why am i not surprised that he is some kind of exorcist of the magical underworld?
“My personal theory is that it is shaped by centuries of mythology and shared beliefs.”
How do you do it? Really, how do things in your “worlds” make perfect sense?
*hypnotized*
“For a moment she felt a stinging stab of jealousy deep in her chest because she was not the first. Followed quickly by a pang of pain at the knowledge that—while she had not been the first he had ever loved—she was the first to truly love him.”
That’s beautiful.
“obviously Charmed Manolo Blahnik stilettos.” and that made me laugh, ehe
Mona?? Don’t tell me! Did i miss something ? Da Vinci? *huh*
And something Severus didn’t know! Did he at least know that “the art of painting wizarding portraits was actually a kind of Necromantic magic?”
Intriguing,indeed!
I wonder where Alina will fit in all this!
So sad, a portrait to fade away, because there is no one left to remember them!
And what is happening with Hermione’s magic? hmmm
What could mess with her magic like that? *hmm*
Now that really surprised me!
Someone…we-know-who…is draining peoples magic through the tattoo?
Muggle-borns and half-bloods will lose their magic?
EVIL!
That’s even worse than what the Dark Lord did.
But how did we-know-who manage to move around the Other World ?
No, not alone, she is not alone, there is someone else doing all this with her.
And the Veil…
I must make another list…
I knew these tattoos were bad news. So, someone is siphoning magic off the muggle-witches/wizards through the tattoos. Presumably so that person has more magic at his/her disposal. An evil trick and even worse plan. So, what to do against it? First they have to find out who is doing that. And Alina better find the rest of the bells soon. I think they will need every one of them.
Yes, of course the tattoos were a really, really bad idea. *grins*
Finally! I’ve been antsy since Madam Pomfrey mentioned the unusually high need for pepper-up, etc, confirming my theory. I really needed somebody to put two and two together. Whew!
On another note, poor Alina when she discovers her head of house is proficient in Latin – the man creates his own spells among other things.
And about those Jarveys — it was the resurrection stone Ron and Lois saw them playing with wasn’t it? and that’s why nine Jarveys were killed that one night? and there’s a connection between their propensity for chattering insults and the Colin inferius isn’t there?
Hah! I knew those tattoos were siphoning energy back when Harry was feeling tired more than ten chapters ago! Finally someone else knows!!!
Also, I love your name for the library in the Middle East. I’ve always been devastated by the idea of all that knowledge being lost, and I love the idea that someone can still benefit from the books and scrolls at Alexandria!