The Grants Artefacts

05 The Picture and the Painting

The picture and the painting

After sending a letter ahead to Hogwarts, Arundel took the night bus from Borgin and Burkes to Hogsmeade. She arrived in the early hours of the morning and unwilling to walk the distance between the bus stop and the Hogshead tavern she flew and levitated her trunk in front of her. Ever grateful that she had learned unassisted flight, despite how cold it was, she alighted on the doorstep knowing that as soon as she knocked she would be waking up the proprietor and upsetting him no end. She reached up for the knocker but the door swung in as if somebody had been waiting for her. The Barman peered out from the depths of the pub, his striking blue eyes shone from a mass of wiry grey hair and beard. He puffed out his cheeks and bristled in his beard, then opened the door wider. "Albus said you might decide to stay here."

"Hello Alberforth."

"You came on the night bus?"

Arundel nodded and moved past the tall old man into a very dirty little bar. The sawdust crinkled under her feet as she dragged her trunk behind her.

"You staying long?"

"Depends on Albus," Arundel told him.

"Always does."

Arundel nodded to a painting hanging behind the bar, "Nice goat."

The proprietor nodded agreement, "One of the finest." He motioned for her to follow him upstairs. "I would offer you a drink but it's very early in the morning and I've turned off the tap. There's firewhisky if you want, just help yourself and I'll settle up with you when you go." Aberforth sounded exhausted, as soon as Arundel was in her room he turned and went to bed.

The next hour was spent killing bedbugs. Arundel's magic was fine for large acts, but being wandless it was harder for her to conduct subtle small spells. She treated it as an exercise, but by the time she was satisfied that everything was dead, the sun had started to come up across the valley. She slept until lunchtime and then busied herself with shopping and exploring Hogsmeade. It had been a long time since she last came to this village, she didn't really like being so close to Hogwart; school hadn't been fun. She'd never liked how hard it was to remain unnoticed, Slughorn had wanted to collect her in his gifted club, the teachers were constantly going on at her about her talent, people had expectations and all she wanted was to be overlooked. Even before Hogwarts she'd been leading a double life, her father had taught her well in that respect, to always know what other people wanted, to always know their price, their shame, their loves. To be the silent partner.

At lunch, she ate in the Three Broomsticks and observed from a secluded bay window how the professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape all came in together. They moved to the bar to buy drinks. McGonagall had a butterbeer, she sipped it with the grace of the cat she could morph into, her hat was under one arm, and her hair was in a tight bun. Flitwick levitated himself high enough to be able to collect his pint, and Snape paid for them, evidently, the professors were hoping to stay for three rounds at least.

They came to a table close enough for her to hear what they were saying. Snape sat facing her and he saw her instantaneously. She smiled and waved, and went back to her newspaper, enjoying how uncomfortable he must have felt.

"The new cohort won't get top OWLS," Flitwick was insisting. "If we can't raise their progress we'll have nobody sitting the NEWT's."

"Don't have such low expectations," McGonagall told him. "We say this every year, and every year the students panic and they study and they do marginally better than we expected."

Snape slid his eyes across to the toilets and back. When Arundel failed to move and sat looking at him with a politely bemused smile he got up as if to leave.