Chapters 81-90

The Gallery of Teachers

On Sunday, May 21 2000, yet another scandal erupted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And it was of such epic proportions that it even obscured the topic of Professor Snape annihilating the points of his own House or the question if Alina was his daughter.

Professor Bill Weasley caught his own Gryffindors manipulating their brooms before the last Quidditch match of the term and proved that although he was calm and in control in his classroom, he did have the famous Weasley-temper after all.

He lost control of said temper so completely that Gryffindor House joined Slytherin in its position of an all time low concerning House points.

Both Houses would have to wait for September until another gem would find its way into their hour glasses. Additionally, Gryffindor Quidditch practice was on hold for the rest of the term.

Slytherins were seen sniggering and offering the Gryffindor team a spot of coaching in cunning and magical manipulation.

oooOooo

‘This is the Gallery of Teachers,’ announced Ciardha Vaisey. ‘It’s supposed to contain all the portraits of all the wizards and witches who ever taught at Hogwarts.’

Alina stared at the high walls. They seemed to go on forever, and they were covered with paintings. But they were ordinary wizarding paintings. The people in the portraits moved or dozed or did whatever portrait people do when they were bored to bits.

She flushed and looked quickly away from heaving cloaks and robes in a frame just above her head.

‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘That all of them are here?’

‘Hmm, there’s an easy way to test it,’ Ciardha said and pulled out his wand. ‘Illustro Album Dumbledoreum!’

A flash like a giant spotlight shot out of his wand and flew up to a large painting at the centre of the wall. An ancient wizard with a long silver beard and twinkling blue eyes gazed down at the two students and nodded a friendly greeting.

‘That’s a portrait of Albus Dumbledore!’ Alina gasped.

Ciardha smiled. ‘Exactly. Now you know that my spell works.’

He lifted his wand again. ‘Illustro Amycum Carrowum!’

Nothing happened. The room remained dark, the wand quiescent.

‘That’s strange. He ought to be here. He was a teacher here, for all he was an asshole and a Death-Eater.’ Ciardha tried again. Then he made another attempt using Amycus’ sister, Alecto. Nothing happened. Frowning, Ciardha called out a fourth time: ‘Illustro Dolorem Umbridgeum!’

No light, no portrait.

But Rowena Ravenclaw showed up right away.

‘I think…that the Castle only includes the portraits of teachers that did not end up on the side of Evil,’ Ciardha said finally.

He sighed, and for a second Alina thought that he wanted to hug her.

‘I’m very sorry, Alina.’

oooOooo

‘Oh, God, Gilly, whom could I ask? There has to be a gallery with immobilized portraits somewhere here at Hogwarts.

‘It makes sense: If the castle automatically includes a picture of everyone who ever taught here and the evil wizards are not there, their portraits were taken away. To lock them up. They must have been petrified or something, so they can’t do any harm. I mean, imagine all those Dark Wizards on the loose in all of the castle’s portraits. That wouldn’t be a good idea at all. Therefore, there must be another gallery. But no one I’ve talked to so far knows about it!’

Impatient and irritable, Alina paced the dorm. Gilly sat huddled in her blankets and was watching Alina with big worried eyes.

‘What is it?’ Alina snapped, and felt immediately sorry when Gilly winced at her sharp tone.

‘Does it…does it bother you very much? That, well, that you know that your father was a—a Dark Wizard?’

Alina stopped dead in her tracks and raised her fists as if she wanted to pounce on an invisible enemy. ‘Yes and no. I mean, obviously there are varying degrees of darkness. Just think of Professor Snape. He was a Death-Eater once, but he’s become a good man and a hero all the same. Okay, I don’t really expect my father to be like that. Seeing as I don’t even know his name. But it explains some things—like why I’m a necromancer, or why I got sorted into Slytherin in spite of my mother being rather the Muggle equivalent of a Hufflepuff. I just want to know who he is! I want to see him! I’d love to find his portrait so I could YELL at him. And if he’s petrified, so much the better, because in that case he won’t be able to shout back.’

At last she sighed. ‘Of course there’d be the drawback about him not being able to answer my questions about that bell. Anyway, Gilly, whom could I ask? It’s obvious I won’t find it on my own. And the stupid Room is only taking me back to the Mirror and the idiot Mirror is only ever showing me that awful picture, but never lets me close enough to actually read his name.’

oooOooo

‘It’s not enough,’ concluded Cato. ‘We’re not getting there quickly enough. There’s not enough time. And we can’t risk anyone catching on.’

Ebe nodded. ‘I think it’s time to implement the emergency plan.’

Everyone turned to Alina.

‘What are you looking at me for?’ she asked, flustered. ‘I’m not a Gryffindor!’

‘That is most certainly true,’ Crudass said. ‘But you’ve got the best connections.’

Alina groaned. They had a point there.

‘All right. I’ll do it. Who needs free time anyway when you can have detentions?’

‘That’s the spirit, kid,’ Adrastaus encouraged her. His slightly pompous manner reminded her of Ebe. Were all children from old pureblood families like that?

As if on cue, Ebe’s eyebrow quirked in a near-perfect imitation of his Head of House.

‘Since we seem to have reached a decision, ‘kids’, how about you empty your pockets? And you know I want to see Galleons. Knuts and Sickles won’t help us this time.’