Laylee was making her way to the staircases to travel back up to her common room when she suddenly realized that she was kind of hungry, and wanted to go get lunch, she turned around and headed the other direction.
"Do you need directions little girl?" Came a squeaky voice from beside her. Laylee turned thinking she would see a first year trying to give her directions, but she saw a little boy, about the age of 8 sitting on a hardwood floor in a painting on the wall. Laylee smiled. "Well, no, do I look like I do?" She asked the little boy. "Yes you did." He said, his painted legs lifting himself up to stand. Laylee looked at the rest of the portrait quickly, taking in painting. It was of a very beautiful library. There was a desk behind the boy. Laylee squinted to see what the plaque on the front of it said. Minister of Magic. The Minister at the time of this painting was not present.
"You stopped, looked confused and turned around to the other direction. It looked like you were lost." The boy said. Laylee's attention was brought back to him. "Oh, well, I just decided that I was hungry, thats all, so I was heading back." She said smiling at him.
"Oh, okay then." The little boy said as he turned her back to her and sat back on the wood floor, disapointment in his face.
"Whats your name?" Laylee asked him. "Thomas." He said matter of factly.
"My name is Laylee!" She said happily. "And, I was wondering, now that I think of it, I completely forgot how to get to the Great Hall!" She said, hoping this would cheer him up. The little boy looked up smiling and jumped to a standing position again. "Okay! Cuz I can help you ya know! Ive traveled through every single one of the portraits in this castle, did you know that?" The boy asked, excited he would get to help her. "No, I didnt know that! I bet that was a loooong journey! Theres a bunch of pictures in this school." She said, looking amazed. The boy puffed out his little chest in pride.
"Okay, this is how you get there. You go this way until you see a bunch of crazy moving staircases! Then you pick the one that goes down. You have to climb down quickly or you could end up somewhere you dont wanna go!" The boy said commicly, acting out a person walking down stairs with his index and middle finger. "Then you walk this way," He again motioned which way to go. "down the corridor, and about ten portraits down that way will lead you to the Great Hall!" He said smiling, proud of himself. "Thank you very much Thomas! I would have been lost without you." Laylee said smiling.
"I know." Thomas said. "But its okay, because everyone gets lost! And if you ever need directions again, you know where to find me!" The boy said. He went back to his sitting position, smiling to himself. "Goodbye Thomas, see you again soon I hope!" Laylee said smiling caringly at him.
"You too Laylee!" He said.
Laylee walked on her way...

It was the time of night when he caught the ribbons of moonlight. He felt like a sovereign with the red carpet at (what might have been) his feet. Velvet curtains hung at his side; the artist’s choice of contrast with his blue coat. Yes, his blue coat, every fold meticulously prepared that morning. Every strand of dark hair arranged just so. Tristan Howell Ernest de Ath (the First) stood in the painting of perfection, his language spoken with eloquence.

“My dear lady,” he said with a smirch of gloat, “I know I am very much handsome, but there is no need to stare, really.” Tristan Howell Ernest de Ath (the First) peered at Matilda with his large hazel eyes as the other turned an interesting shade of red.

“I am doing no such thing,” the first year declared indignantly, “merely observing.” Then her eyebrows furrowed, lips jutting out in what might have been a pout.

The painting returned the look, rather bemused. “Observing what, may I ask?”

“How much this is worth,” Matilda said.

“If you must know, I am worth more than your life. Now shoo. Go away.” The painting sniffed and every stroke was painted in distress. The girl scrambled off without another word. Tristan Howell Ernest de Ath (the First) felt the silver ribbons slipping, the way a person would feel time tick onwards. The moonlight shifted slowly to another painting along the wall. There goes his reign, “Discourteous first years,” he mumbled.

As a Slytherin really Emil shouldn't have been on the first floor except for the fact that it was almost 20 degrees warmer than the dungeons he had come from. As he examined the walls covered from head to toe (though he could not see the head of the wall from where he stood, but he assumed that it was the case) in vibrant paintings which moved and spoke, much like the daily profet he would look at with his mother.
Walking down the hall Emil noticed someone gazing at one of the pictures; he walked up and began to examine it as well, hoping to find out what was so interesting in hopes for an excuse for his not remaiming in the common room below.
"Tristan Howell Ernest De Ath." He spoke the name slowly so as to not get it wrong. "Why is there a painting of you here? I've never heard of ya." Emil smiled while he spoke his curious words.

Tristan Howell Ernest De Ath (the First) glanced up from his cloud of gloom at the newcomer, quirking a thin, dark eyebrow to the ignorant question posed unmannerly before him: how could anyone possibly not know who he was? The portrait would have spat, but that would have been righteously philistine. The indulgent him was a gentleman, after all. He settled for a smug look instead, looking down his elegant nose at Emil.

“Pardon me, good sir,” he said condescendingly, “I prefer not to chat with the ignorant race.”

Matilda, standing beside Emil, snorted.

"I Can't believe you'd refer to your self in such an awful way, you shouldn't be so hard on your self for being no more than a mere painting. I'll have to fetch someone useful to find a way to put a smile on your face, that way you can feel better about your self instead of feeling as if your the 'ignorant race' My mother always said paintings are people to, or at least were." Emil nattered on as fast as his voice would go; sticking in as many intsults as he could, then turned on his heels he walked off, no doubt not returning. "I can't believe something so stuck up could ever become a painting. They really are stupid, aren't they?" Emil thought to himself while he walked quickly away from the portait.

The painting looked at Matilda. Matilda looked at the painting. Both said, “…”

An embarrassing silence followed. Tristan Howell Ernest de Ath (the First) was the first to speak, sounding rather defeated, “I wasn’t lying when I said I was worth more than your life.” He insisted.

He would know. He knew everything. Well, almost everything. But when the Grey Lady found his portrait, she was disappointed. "Empty! The errant knight is out on a mission. Sir Cadogan, your services are needed!"

Abby leaves Professor Kazimeriz's office in a foul mood. She went to the professor for some help, and he treated her like she had done something wrong. Abby continues walking paying no attention to anything around her when she get a sudden chill. She looks around and sees the Grey Lady standing in front of an empty portrait. "Did I just walk through you? My sincerist apologies if I did."

"No, my dear. If you did, then you'd collide with the wall," she replied. "Have you seen Sir Cadogan? He's not in his portrait this evening."

Valentine had her nose stuck in a book as she walked down the corridor. She didn't really know where she was going. The blond and blue haired girl bit down on one of the metal rings going through her lips when she tripped over her own feet, having her book fly out of her hands. "Uggg." She moaned, getting up and rubbing her head.

The Ravenclaw girl looked up to see the house elf and ghost trading words. "Oh, good evening." Valentine smiled weakly at the too in apology of all the commotion she had just made.

"Careful, young Ravenclaw," the Grey Lady said and noticed the book. "Walking and reading can be dangerous. Tell me child, have you seen Sir Cadogan lurking about in other portraits?"

Abby looks at the portrait. "I'm not sure what Sir Cadogan looks like. Is he a knight?"

"Oh, my," she gasped and was surprised by the Hufflepuff's questioning answer. "Are you not familiar with Hogwarts and the portraits? Sir Cadogan is a knight and an observant one at that. He would know about the stones." Not wanting to lecture a poor student for not knowing her school, the Grey Lady disappeared into the staircase.

Valentine picked her book up, stood up straight and brushed herself off. After finishing that she looked up at the empty portrait, the Grey Lady, then looked over at the hufflepuff, and then back at the house ghost. Valentine recalled the man who often was in this canvas, and although she couldn't say what exactly he looked like, she would recognize him being out of place in another painting.

"Sorry Ma'am, I can't say I have seen him about most recently." Valentine explained to the Grey Lady. "He may have gone off for a stroll don't you think?"

"Darn! How do you get these ghost to stay in one place for more than a few minutes?"

Valentine laughed mildly as the ghost floated off and the hufflepuff vented out in frustration. "Well if I was dead, I would want to move around a lot too." She nodded as she smiled at the unknown girl. Valentine put her book away in the green canvas military bag slung around her shoulder. "Valentine Ammadon." She said sticking her hand out for a hand shake.

Abby has to laugh at the girl's comment. "I'm Abby Wright. I guess I scared her away. She probably didn't like talking to a Hufflepuff. I'm Abby Wright." Abby shakes the girl's hand. She also looks at her robes. "You're in that bird house. Is it okay for you to be talking to me?" Abby doesn't want to get anyone in trouble. The Ravenclaw boys she met in the dueling club didn't seem to want to associate with her.

Valentine shrugged as she pulled her blond and blue hair behind her head and bite on one of the rings in her lip. "I don't see why not, I talk to people outside of my house alot." Well perhaps not alot, but than again you don't even talk to girls alot. Valentine smiled at Abby. "I've never had a problem with talking to hufflepuffs."

"I'm glad to hear that. I ran into two boys in the Dueling Arena last night. They are in Ravenclaw too and acted like they shouldn't talk to me. I thought that was the rule. I'm glad to hear it's not. What class are you in? I'm a fifth year. I transfered from Barrows School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the US. You're the third person I've met and my first Ravenclaw."

"Sixth year, I came here last year, it does get some adjusting to get use to this place. But for me it was the first school I had been too since a muggle elemantry school, so it was a bit of a huge change for me." Valentine chuckled softly. "You'll meet more people, it just takes some time. Why did you move?"

"I decided I wanted to spend some time in my homeland. My dad works for the Ministry Diplomatic Corp. I'm full blood English, but I've never spent a single day here. I was born in St. Petersburg, Russia and spent my first four year there. Then my dad got transfered to the US. To be honest, I hated the last school my parents put me in. Dad was named ambassador about two years ago, and I had to start going to the Barrows School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All the big wigs in Washington send their children there. The school is full of nothing but social snobs, so I decided it was time to come home.

Valentine smiled and nodded. "I guess that sounds like a good reason. Must have been interesting to live up in the states then?" She asked. Valentine had never been the states, but lived so close she could have went if only she was allowed to, and if she really had a reason to go to. "I was born in Cuba, don't look Cuban at all I guess, got most of my mother's looks I guess." Nor did the Ravenclaw sound as though she spoke anything other than English, having no accent other than her English one.

"Cool! I've never known anyone from Cuba. It was nice in the US. Very busy in Washington of course. I didn't get to see much of my parents- that was a bad thing. Tell me about Cuba please. I've always wanted to go there."

Valentine smiled a chuckled a bit, what could she tell this girl about her homeland? Valentine searched her mind for something to say. "Me and my..." She had gotten lost in her mind as she thought of her late siblings and her mentally unstable mother. She then smiled realizing she drew a blank for a moment. "Sorry, lost my words. Me and my family, we lived on the beach I guess." Valentine shrugged her shoulders. "Right outside out house, was the ocean. I remember just sitting out there and watching the waves. It was a huge change for me when I move to London, no beaches or ocean."