Chapter 103 — The Empty Portrait

At Scrivenshaft’s, Hermione added her intended supplies to the writing things already in her bag. I found a small case for spare quills and writing paper for Luna, who had asked me to keep anything I brought back small. A decorated case briefly attracted me, but I could imagine her expression if I used size to justify buying something unnecessarily expensive.

I chose a plain one she could use. We looked into a clothes shop without buying anything, then went to Dervish and Banges, where Ron and Hermione found a pocket case for the smaller tools in Harry’s broom-care kit. They tested its fastening, disagreed about the colour and shared the cost once they settled it. I stayed out of the transaction.

The afternoon had grown colder by our stop at Madam Puddifoot’s. Decoration filled the little room so thoroughly that arranging cups, plates and a teapot gave my eyes somewhere welcome to rest. Ron spread out his purchases until Hermione moved them away from the food, unimpressed by his assurance that their packets were sealed.

She wanted them to remain sealed while she ate. He put them away, and we had something warm before checking the time and going to the post office. Hermione compared deliveries and paid to send her parcel home beneath the attention of several owls. One small bird slept through the transaction with its head beneath a wing, apparently having made better arrangements for its afternoon.

On the way to the returning carriages, we took the path overlooking the Shrieking Shack. The building stood apart from the village behind a fence, its windows boarded and timbers weathered. Nothing moved that I could see, although Ron kept examining the upper windows while telling us Fred and George had tried to get inside.

According to them, they had found no way in. That interested me more than the house’s refusal to offer an entrance at a glance, but attempting to improve on their work would have used the time before our carriage badly. Hermione described the old accounts of dreadful cries, admitting they were less precise about anything the witnesses actually saw.

Ron repeated its claim to be the most haunted house in Britain. I said that must have been a difficult competition to judge, earning a laugh without drawing his eyes far from the windows. We left it quiet behind us and reached the coach with our parcels still secure.

The ride back was less talkative. Ron inspected something through its wrapping while Hermione checked her remaining purchases. I wondered which work Dobby would choose if the arrangements suited him, remembering how carefully he held the letter. The answer would have to wait for news from him or Tom.

Harry stood when he saw us enter the Great Hall. He asked about the trip before I reached the table, then made room as I put his parcels down. Ron and Hermione added the tool case, explaining the fastening while Harry opened a packet of sweets and began laughing.

‘Did you leave anything for anyone else?’ he asked. I assured him the shop retained a respectable amount, though he thought our selection resembled its stockroom. Ron explained why choosing had required serious attention while Hermione showed Harry how the smaller compartments opened.

I let him examine the gifts before mentioning Dobby. His smile faded at the account of the refusals and returned slowly when I described the letter. He checked that Dobby could choose the work, and I explained that Tom would help him meet the managers without requiring him to accept terms he disliked.

‘I’d like to see him,’ Harry said, turning the case in his hands. I told him Dobby promised to send news when he found work. Ron offered him fudge and resumed the account of Zonko’s, drawing questions about places we had passed as well as the things we bought.

We shared a first selection before packing the gifts away. Luna’s remained separate in my pouch; I planned to find her after taking the rest upstairs. Ron was describing a teacup when we reached the stairs and discovered students blocking the approach to Gryffindor.

More arrived behind them, leaning to see past shoulders. Ron wondered whether the Fat Lady had begun singing again, but I stopped beside the banister and listened. Voices and footsteps came from above, with somebody calling for space. There was no song.

Percy was trying to clear the landing. I asked the nearest arriving group to wait on the wider part below until there was somewhere to go, while Harry helped make a gap by the banister. Ron stopped describing the cup as Ginny came through the space Percy had opened.

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‘It’s the Fat Lady. Her painting’s been cut,’ she told us. I looked past her just as two students moved aside, revealing long slashes across the canvas. Strips of the background remained, but the woman who should have sat before it was missing. Hermione asked where she was, and Ginny shook her head.

Filch climbed the stairs with Dumbledore close behind. Percy moved us further back while the headmaster examined the frame, where an edge of torn canvas lifted slightly. Dumbledore asked whether anyone had entered, and Percy could only account for the time since his own arrival. He had kept the entrance clear since then.

Figures in neighbouring pictures were already moving between frames and calling to one another. Dumbledore asked Filch to help find the Fat Lady, and Filch looked along the wall before pointing towards a riverbank scene. A familiar edge of dress showed behind the shoulder of a large hippopotamus.

Dumbledore approached while Percy kept us from crowding after him. The Fat Lady emerged far enough to look at the headmaster, her hands shaking against each other. He assured her she was safe there and asked what happened, waiting while she began to speak.

‘He wanted to get in. I wouldn’t let him.’ She moved closer to the animal when it shifted, then shook her head at Dumbledore’s question about a name. She knew his face, she said; everyone knew it now. Her voice rose enough for people further down the stairs to fall quiet.

Dumbledore asked gently who she meant. ‘Sirius Black,’ she answered, bringing a rush of voices across the landing. Harry went still beside me while Ron began saying his name. The headmaster raised his hand, and the single word quiet carried down the stairs until we could hear her again.

Black had not passed her, she said. She fled when he began cutting the painting, leaving her account there rather than claiming to know where he went afterwards. Dumbledore thanked her and turned towards us, instructing everyone to go to the Great Hall with their groups.

Prefects were to account for students and report anyone missing. Filch would arrange for the entrances to be watched while the search began. Percy sent us down in groups small enough to move safely, and I went with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Looking back once, I saw the torn home the Fat Lady had abandoned after refusing him entry.

The Great Hall grew louder as people arrived from different parts of the castle. Prefects checked names along the rows, and teachers stood near the doors while Dumbledore spoke to those preparing to search. I looked through the Ravenclaws until I found Luna beside Cho, then raised a hand. She waved back, making the room easier to bear for the moment.

Harry sat with his bag between his feet. ‘The portrait outside our common room,’ he said. I could offer no useful way to make that sound less personal.

‘It doesn’t prove whom he wanted. It doesn’t rule you out either,’ I said. Harry nodded, rubbing his hands against his knees. He admitted that part of him wanted to go outside and demand an answer, making Ron tell him immediately not to do anything foolish.

Harry stressed that he had said part of him. I suggested keeping the rest in charge, and he looked at me before confirming he would stay. Hermione sat beside him and asked whether he wanted anything from the packets we brought back, giving him a question he could answer without thinking about Black.

I looked towards the teachers. McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape were visible, with Hagrid speaking to Filch near a door. Where was Lupin?

When the counts began reaching him, Dumbledore addressed us. We would remain in the hall during the search, with a teacher present throughout. Nobody was to leave alone, even for a familiar place, and prefects would help with anything needed. Complaints about belongings upstairs remained quieter than the questions about Black.

I reached into my pouch for the map, folded behind my notebook and apart from the food. Harry moved closer as I opened it across my knees. I touched the parchment with my brush and murmured the password the twins had taught me, watching familiar lines spread across the page.

Names moved through corridors I recognised. I began near Gryffindor and followed the stairs away from it, then looked through the adjoining detail more slowly. Sirius Black did not appear in the routes I checked. A second examination left me with the same absence and no explanation for it.

Hermione asked whether I found anything. When I shook my head, Ron let out a breath and suggested Black had gone. I kept my finger beside the last passage I checked, unwilling to let the relief settle into certainty.

‘Or I haven’t found him on this. That isn’t the same answer,’ I said. Harry pointed towards the edge of the sheet and reminded us that it had not shown the Chamber. I added the route beneath the forbidden corridor, where detail had appeared later than expected without my understanding why.

I folded the map enough to carry it without showing every line to the room. When McGonagall returned to the doorway, I approached and said I had something which might help. She looked from the parchment to me, then asked me to show her.

I showed her the moving names, the routes I had checked and the gaps we knew about. She watched a teacher’s mark travel along a passage, then questioned me about our earlier uses of the map.

She would tell Dumbledore. I was to remain with my group and report anything new to the teacher at the door, rather than follow a name myself. I agreed and returned to Harry.

Harry looked up as I sat down. I repeated what she said, then spread the parchment across my knees again. The name had not appeared while I was away, but the information was no longer confined to us while other people searched. I watched teachers enter with reports, comparing the movements I could see with the marks on the page.