Braeden's jaw dropped once more. This was a conspiracy! Hollywood and that stupid painting were teaming up against him! This wasn't very nice. "The portrait doesn't know what it's saying. It's just a portrait with an eighteenth-century mind," said Braeden. He would've crossed his arms, but he needed to carry his books somehow. Somewhere in the background, the annoying portrait made another sarcastic comment but Braeden opted best to ignore it this time.

And then Evangeline was telling him not to be mean to the portrait! Oh, this was definitely a conspiracy. "I'm not being mean to the portrait!" complained Braeden. "In case you've forgotten, when you apparated out of nowhere and gave me a heart attack, the portrait was making fun of me, therefore, the mean one here is the portrait. Not me. I'm just a mere victim," the boy finished in a mutter, his brown eyes falling to the marble floors as his feet shifted absentmindedly for a moment before he looked up again as Evangeline denied to being abusive. Pshhhh. And then she was adding an unsure 'well…' "I'm right, aren't I?" said Braeden with one of his goofy smiles. "I'm right, admit it! You're mean and you know it, Hollywood. And I'm just your poor, innocent victim." That's right. He was just a poor, defenseless creature victimized by the evil Slytherin girl.