Portraits and Wagers
"Hello, Harry. Thank you for coming, knowing that you don't particularly enjoy talking with me," said the Headmaster as he adjusted himself in his chair, observing the student who had just entered his office and now sat calmly across the desk. Despite being in front of the very Headmaster of the school, Harry looked completely at ease, as if none of it intimidated him in the slightest.
"Eh, I thought we got along pretty well. In fact, I enjoy talking to the Headmaster; after all, you're so wise and seem to know exactly how people's lives should go, right?" Harry replied in an almost sarcastic tone, smiling in a friendly way, though his words were anything but.
"Mind your manners, boy!" exclaimed one of the portraits, clearly tired of the boy's lack of respect toward the Headmaster.
"Mm?" Harry turned his head to look at the former Headmaster, who was now nothing more than a portrait on the wall among many others. "Phineas Nigellus Black. I looked up some information about the former Headmasters of Hogwarts. You hold the charming title of being the most hated of all time. Quite an achievement, isn't it? I read that you suspended Quidditch during your tenure just to avoid worrying about injured students because they were a nuisance. I also recall that a teacher died during your time… and that there was a goblin who tried to rule over ancient magic. But in the end, it was a student who solved everything. Curious, isn't it? It seems that in this school, it's always the students who end up solving the most dangerous problems in the magical world. No wonder it's called the safest school in the world," Harry said mockingly.
"It seems that to be a Headmaster, one must have very little interest in the safety of their students," he added with a half-smile, landing a verbal blow at both Black and Dumbledore at once.
Some portraits let out muffled laughs, while others frowned, unable to say anything. After all, nothing Harry had said was false.
Phineas stared at him furiously, stammering a couple of times without managing to say a word. "You… you…"
"That's enough, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore finally intervened, dropping the friendly tone and using his surname instead. That alone made Harry smile with satisfaction.
"Would you mind telling me what happened during Defense Against the Dark Arts class?" the Headmaster asked seriously, looking him straight in the eyes.
Harry answered with total calm. "Why ask me? You could have just checked with your spy paintings scattered all around the school. I'm sure there were a few of them in that classroom," he said, pointing toward the portraits that adorned the office.
"Oh, and before you say something like 'I never watch or spy through the paintings,' remember who restored this place. They left the portraits in their positions because, while it isn't exactly polite, it's still useful… especially nowadays. Though I'm glad there isn't a single one in private areas," Harry added coolly.
Dumbledore sighed, visibly tired. "I just want you to tell me what happened from your perspective. There are many things I can't quite understand. For instance, how a regular boggart ended up transforming into something so... dangerous. A creature that no longer feeds on fear but emits it so deeply that its very being evolved to resemble a dementor," he explained in a grave voice.
Harry's green eyes locked onto the bright blue ones behind Dumbledore's half-moon glasses, both staring at each other with equal intensity.
"I have no idea," Harry said effortlessly.
The old man watched him for a few more seconds before leaning back slowly in his chair.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. I suppose it's not as unusual as I thought, though I believed you might have some information useful for the safety of the other students," he said with a hint of resignation.
Then he picked up a few papers from his desk and continued in a more formal tone, "I'm sure you're already aware of the Azkaban escape, and how this matter is closely connected to you. Pettigrew has also been seen nearby. So, even though I have your mother's signed permission allowing you to visit Hogsmeade, I'd prefer if, for your own safety, you stayed within the castle grounds."
"Oh, really?" Harry replied with a calm smile. "In my first year, there was a teacher with Voldemort living on the back of his head, walking freely among the students, and only now you're worried about my safety? You think Pettigrew is just as dangerous as him?"
His tone was so serene that Dumbledore didn't know whether to answer or simply let it go.
"I'm glad you're not taking it the wrong way," murmured the Headmaster, attempting to end the conversation.
"Whatever you do, Headmaster, I always take it the wrong way," Harry replied before standing up with his usual composure and leaving the office with a light smile on his face.
Dumbledore watched his back as he walked away until he disappeared from sight, letting out a long sigh. When had things come to this? Perhaps from the very beginning. There was no longer any real connection between him and Harry Potter—not after so many misguided decisions. In the first year, those brief conversations and the strange little "wars" of wit they used to share had at least been a form of communication. But now… that connection was fading, faster than he had ever expected.
…
Harry left the office with a serious expression, descending the spiral staircase as the stone gargoyle sealed the entrance behind him.
He stopped for a moment to glance back at the statue before moving on.
As he walked through the corridors, his thoughts deepened. Something was lingering in his mind, a connection that he was only now beginning to notice clearly, now that his nerves had finally settled.
"A so-called seer as a professor… a teacher who's a double spy for both Voldemort and Dumbledore… Voldemort's sudden interest in finding a child born in July whose parents defied him multiple times… Neville and I were the only ones who fit that description… the attack on our families… Sirius's imprisonment…" he murmured to himself, piecing the fragments together one by one.
The news that Pettigrew, the traitor of his parents, was on the loose and apparently looking for him had made him start connecting everything.
"I hope that's not the case," he said softly, thinking of someone in particular… and then of the Headmaster himself.
For a brief moment, his eyes turned red. "Let's hope that's not the case," he repeated before continuing down the corridor.
…
"Do you want my prisoner costume?" Daphne asked the moment she learned that Harry wouldn't be able to go with them to Hogsmeade.
"I'll pass, thanks," he replied quickly, raising a hand without stopping.
"Mm… how boring," said Daphne as she finished putting away her costume. Why did she even have one? Well, it wasn't hard to guess. It was Daphne, after all.
"Don't worry, Harry. We'll keep you company," said Astoria quickly with a cheerful smile, while Luna nodded lightly, her expression calm and happy.
"We could try catching cheese pixies," suggested Luna suddenly, completely serious.
"Eh… well. Thanks, I guess," replied Harry with a small smile.
"If you want, we can bring you something," offered Hermione calmly, adjusting her scarf.
"No, I'm fine. Just bring a few sweets for me… and for Draco, who's staying to help," said Harry with a relaxed smile.
Draco, who was standing nearby, looked at him in complete surprise. He had planned to go to Hogsmeade, to unwind a bit after all the school stress, but apparently his friend had already decided his fate.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Bring some walnut pastries," he said finally, giving up. That's what he got for offering to help too early.
"Don't worry; we won't have that much fun anyway. Remember we have to help Hagrid with his case," commented Daphne with a smile that completely betrayed her words. Judging by her face, she clearly planned to have a great time.
…
Harry and Draco walked down the corridor, while Astoria and Luna followed a few meters behind them. The two girls were chatting quietly, lost in their own little world. At one point, when they saw Ginny walking down the opposite hallway, both of them ran off after her as if they were about to kidnap her again.
Harry watched them leave and sighed, no longer bothering to try and stop them. "Well, we've lost them," he muttered with a hint of irony.
"So, what should we do first? Do you remember any locations from the map?" asked Draco, glancing around.
"Yeah, I remember a few. But I think it'll be easier if we find the ones who probably know those places even better than we do," replied Harry as he led the way with confident steps.
"Eh? Who?" asked Draco as they turned a corner. However, before he got an answer, he noticed Harry's grin aimed at a nearby group.
In front of them, a crowd of students was cheering loudly. Metallic clanging, thuds, and an animated voice echoed through the corridor.
"Betting is now closed! Wait to see who'll be the winner of our school golem competition! If you want to join the battle, it's only one Galleon to participate and compete for the grand prize of twenty Galleons!"
The identical voices belonged to the Weasley twins, who stood behind a box full of parchments and coins. On top of it was a list of names, numbers, and payout ratios: one read 0.5 and the other 2.0. Betting on the first meant earning 50%, while the second would double your money.
"They opened a betting house at school?" exclaimed Draco in disbelief. "Aren't they afraid the Headmaster will find out?" he added, looking around for portraits. But there were none—it was a blind spot in the castle.
"Their sponsor is Daphne," said Harry casually, before Draco could even ask.
…
"Oh, but look who it is—our two best models," said Fred Weasley with a mischievous grin.
Draco frowned, confused, until realization hit him. "You're the ones selling our photos?" he asked in a cold, serious tone.
"What? Of course not. We're just the ones taking them," said George shamelessly, joining the conversation.
Draco let out a frustrated sigh. "Daphne," he muttered through gritted teeth.
Harry gave him a light push, trying to keep him calm. They still had work to do.
"Weren't you holding that competition to find the secret rooms? What happened to that?" asked Harry, changing the subject.
"Well, at first, yeah," said Fred, glaring at his brother. "But we were afraid we'd lose too much money because of George's stupid idea."
"Hey! It was your idea!" retorted George indignantly.
"Tsk, whatever. Luckily, our boss came to us with an offer that would make us even more money, even if someone else found the secret places," added Fred with a cheeky grin.
"I see. At least you found a few, right? I'm sure you two remember plenty," said Harry, watching them with interest.
Fred and George exchanged a glance.
"Why do you ask?" they said in unison, with the look of someone who smells a profitable deal. Daphne had clearly corrupted them more than anyone realized.
"Because I know you have the Marauder's Map. If you're not using it, I'll buy it from you," said Harry, rolling his eyes.
"Eh? How do you know about that?" asked Fred, surprised.
"It's the map my father created with his friends. They called themselves the Marauders," explained Harry calmly.
The twins stared at him intently. "Prove it," said George.
Harry pulled from his bag a map almost identical to theirs, though noticeably newer.
The twins looked at each other, then took out their own map. When compared, it was clear that Harry's was in much better condition, as if it had just been made.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," muttered George, tapping Harry's map. In an instant, it revealed the interior of the castle—the corridors, the names of those present, and even the professors' locations.
"It's true…" said Fred in awe. They had tried to recreate that map countless times, but had never succeeded. Yet here was a perfect copy.
"So, how much are you selling it for?" asked Harry directly.
"Actually, we need it," replied Fred, crossing his arms. "We use it to see when the professors are nearby."
George nodded, and both shared a wordless look.
"Let's make a deal. You keep your father's map, and we'll take the new one. Everyone wins. Besides, we've already marked the secret places we found, just in case," proposed Fred with a confident smile.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" he asked, surprised by the simplicity of the trade.
"Of course. Who are we to not return what belongs to its rightful owner? Plus, we get a completely new one," added George with a wide grin.
Harry smiled faintly and agreed. They exchanged the maps without issue, and soon he and Draco left, walking away from the twins' little illegal betting house.
"Daphne really is as meddlesome as ever," said Draco as they walked, his expression serious.
Harry smiled. They both knew Daphne didn't need money to make deals with the twins—she simply did it for fun.
"Still, it bothers me that my photos are going around all over Hogwarts," added Draco, clenching his fists, clearly waiting for the moment to confront Daphne and give her a proper scolding.
Harry just smiled again. After all, that was their group: chaotic, clever, and far too entertaining for anyone to ever be bored at Hogwarts.