It wasn't as if he spent every day talking to the countless portraits hung throughout Hogwarts. Dash had learned though, a young age that the portraits knew much more than you thought they would have. In fact, the portraits got him through his third and fourth year of school, by supplying him with information on key test and exam days.

Though some were outrageous liars.

At the moment he was having a chat with Hengist Rawkes who had called out to him on his way to the office, with his thick german accent. Dash really wasn't saying much, just standing as the portrait went on and on about how ideas were being borrowed and reused without so much as a nod to the original creator, and was frequently interrupted many times by one that was two frames over.

"Take transfiguration for example, even ask Mirabella! Snufflifors was invented before my time! Sometime in the fourth century I dare say, but they say the seventh! It was no where near the seventh!."

"Yes. It was." Dash challenged with a small smile on his face. The Hengist scoffed and carried on. But the portrait didn't know what he was raging about. He remained though, listening to the man in the painting. In a few minutes he would excuse himself and leave, but for now he would humour him and the others.

But it was so the seventh.

What West was doing on the first floor was a moot point. He wouldn't be able to tell you simply because he wasn't doing anything in particular and any one thing that he was doing got interrupted by something else anyway. Like right now. Exploring got interrupted by a burning curiosity. Voices.

Arguing.

Interesting arguing.

"Why did it get invented?" West chimed in from a short distance away. Snufflifors, he meant. "Why did someone think that turning a book into a mouse was a good idea?"

Wasn't that more important than the when? The WHY?

Hengist Rawkes was rambling, saying more things that tried to prove that Dash's small statement was wrong. Scabior just nodded, blocking out a lot of what was being said, but he stood, still listening.

It wasn't until the small voiced piped up that he realized he was being watched.

He eyed the kid. "That would be a good question to ask the Transfiguration Professor." It was in her field after all.

Though if he wanted to know...."Tell me when do you think it was invited? Fourth century or the seventh?" The kid was small, so he didn't expect him to have a clue.

Just to choose the bigger number.

West wrinkled his nose. He didn't know the Transfiguration professor and the question wasn't one that burned him enough to want to go find out.

But at that question West looked thoughtful, then self-important and then in earnest. "Neither. On account of the printing press wasn't invented until the fifteenth century. though there are Chinese books from the 11th century. Before that it was mostly parchment scrolls, or on tablets or stuff like that, but not actually books, not the same as books now, not like how we see books. Some books were just boxes with loose pages in them." So West went back to HIS part.

"Which is why the WHY is totally important because if there weren't books that were books like what we have as books, then maybe it was kind of a different spell really? And like, what that dude says," He pointed, "Maybe snufflifors as we know it now, that works on books, is plagarised from a snufflifors that worked on scrolls or tablets or something older."

Paaause.

"I'n hungry. Do you got any food?"

Scabior stared at the kid as he went on to his thoughts, denouncing what him and Hengist were saying. Shooting Hengist down made sense, since the man seemed to be the type who just spoke just to hear the sound of his own voice (though Dash would say in his defence he wasn't really spoken to that much so it made sense).

He truly hadn't expected him to say so much...and with actual thought behind the whole thing as well.

Maybe there was hope for today's youth after all?

"Though I applaud your answer, I only gave you two options." He finally said, shooting the kid down but not completely. Still though, he had only give him two. He didn't say to form his own opinion. "The why is important though...." Eh. Fine. The kid earned that, since a lot of his 'maybe's' had been right. Basically.

"The spell was invented in the seventh century." He repeated, just because he could. And he was right. "The reason why was due to some really close Wizard and Muggle encounters. In the seventh century small pox spread into Europe, and Wizards had their way of staying protected but Muggles didn't, so really they were scared by anything seen as unclean that could possibly carry the disease. I mean its ridiculous." He shrugged. Mice didn't carry the disease. "But it scared them anyways, so some wizard made the spell to transfigure his rolls so he could have mice around his house to scare off the Muggles...then people started picking it up."

And so, the moral of this history lesson was that;

Scabior was right. There kid, there was your why.

The painting didn't say a word, he seemed stunned by what had been said and was struggling to say something else, but it was okay the kid filled the silence.

"Do I look like the lady on the train pushing a trolley full of sweets?" Really? The kitchen was just a few floors down. "What's your name?"

"They were dumb options." West commented seriously. "At least without more stuff to know to make a proper choice." Which now he DID know cos this dude was saying stuff.

"His rolls." Repeated. "So I'm right then, it wasn't made for books to begin with. Does that mean it still works on scrolls and stuff? Or has the spell changed too?" Curious question. "I choose 7th Century now." After all the information.

WAIT. WAIT. WHAT? HOLD UP!

West's jaw dropped.

"There was a lady with sweets on the train?" Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooo. He'd wasted his train journey with prefects and crazy cats!

It was the END OF THE WORLD.

He did manage to get his name out though. "West Odessa."

"One of them was a dumb option." Dash corrected in his own serious tone. The one that wasn't his, obviously.The only thing the kid needed to know was that agreeing with him, was the right thing to do, 99.9 percent of the time.

Dash thought for a moment then shrugged. No kid you weren't right. "It probably hasn't changed at all, except for the pronunciation." Which might have been what brought on the change to books?

Who knew? Scabior didn't waste his time thinking about spells that were now useless.

He smirked. "Good choice."

The kid seemed shocked at that news. Really, who didn't know about the sweet lady? THAT hadn't even been his point. His point was that he didn't just walk around the castle with food, but still, he rubbed his chin before shrugging again. "There was when I rode the train." Years and years ago.

Odessa huh? Scabior was about to ask a question when he was interrupted.

"West?" Hengist Rawkes started up, it seemed he had caught his voice once again. "Back in my day boys had proper names, and told them when asked. Like Westbrook, or Westin! I even had frequent visits from a fellow named Westby. But West? Ridiculous name."

Dash raised his finger to his lips, calling for silence from the centuries old portrait. "Sadly, not everyone can have practical names like Hengist." He said sarcasm dripping from his words. If the portrait kept that up one one would want to speak to him.

"Do you have a sister that goes here?"

That was true. Cos if both were dumb, then logically one was as well. West just nodded. Okay professor dude, whatever you say.

Confusion. How could it be said any other way? There was a snuff and there was a lifors. It wasn't rocket science (which West did not know what WAS rocket science, but he'd heard someone say it before, and was pretty sure he had the right context).

"I sat in the prefects compartment. There were a lot of cats." West volunteered.

When the portrait started talking again, West very politely said to the professor, "Excuse me." And then he turned and thumped Hengist on the arm. Or... well, on the canvas. Where his arm was. Same difference. He turned back to the professor, looking completely angelic and innocent, save that he'd just thumped a portrait.

"Yeah! Aspen. She's cool. But she's a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin like me and like my dad."

So the kid-West, sat in the prefects compartment? That was such valuable information that he was likely to use sometime in the near future or perhaps later when someone important was in danger.

"You are aware that only prefects are suppose to be in the Prefect compartment, correct?" Hence the name prefect compartment. As for the cats? "Many people love cats." Dash said dully.

Scabior's blue eyes watched the young boy, watching him as he made his way up to the portrait. He was far to close to hold a normal conversation without-oh. The Professor snorted as West's small fist rose and hit the talkative portrait on the arm, he was slightly shocked, but that didn't mean he hadn't found the portrait abuse funny.

"You just hit a century old portrait in front of a Professor....you sure you aren't a Gryffindor?"

"Probably because all of them are a bit weird." West decided. But it was good to be on the good side of people in power. "Except Sierra Greingoth." He added hurriedly. She wasn't weird. She was... impressive! "I don't hate cats but... there were like twenty of them in there." Or like four or five or something. "And one was peeing on shoes and one was licking shoes and they were chasing chocolate frogs and it was kinda dumb having them all in there together except that they should have maybe charged for admission and like, like, taken bets on which one would come out the survivor." West nodded once, firmly. Yeah!

"Or, put that Head Girl's Pygmy Puff in there and the winner is the one what doesn't eat it cos she kept telling people their cats weren't allowed to, which seemed weird cos, why did she need to say? Also, I don't like her. She keeps calling me strawberry."

A Gryffindor? West pointed at his robes. "No way. I'm a Slytherin like my dad." And, "Hengist was asking for it. You should try it, it would make you feel better."

Scabior just gazed at the young snake, who wasn't making much sense to him at the moment. Perhaps it was because he wasn't really listening. He was still in his 'nod but block out what is really being said' mode from his chat with Hengist. "So you are saying that Prefects get chosen because they are weird?" Was that what the kid was saying?

If it was, at least he had enough sense not to insult the Ministers daughter.

"Twenty cats in one compartment. Its amazing that the prefects and you were able to fit then." Dash said in mock amazement. Oh but that wasn't all. There was peeing on shoes and one licked peed shoes and chocolate frogs and Pygmy Puffs and something else. "Or they could have all been kicked out of the compartment to pee in the hall." That was an option right there. "And Pygmy Puffs are a nutritious part of any cat's meal, you should know about that strawberry."

He wasn't making fun of him. He was simply seeing if the nickname fit.

"I don't attack things in the castle, in front of students." Anyways, Hengist hadn't insulted him. So there was no real reason for him to attack the painting. There was no reason for West either, after all, the painting couldn't feel the pain. "And I don't think you should in front of professors." Scabior hinted.

He didn't want to take points off of Slytherin, but if they were stupid then he wouldn't think twice about it.

"It sure seems like it. Have you talked to any of them?" West put his hands on his hips and tried for a knowing look, like he was BRIMMING with knowledge and the Professor was lucky to hear it.

"One day, when I'm in charge, I'll ban cats from there." He decided. "And don't call me that please, I don't like it." And it would serve the Head Girl right if her Pygmy Puff got eaten by a cat. It would.

HMMMM.

He considered it. The professor hadn't said NOT to attack things, just not to do it in front of professors. West supposed that was good advise and he wasn't about to ask if that meant that he could attack things when professors weren't looking cos then probably the man would have to say no and West would rather do that thing. That asking for forgiveness and not permission thing. Except without asking for forgiveness either.

"I won't then." He decided.

"Can I ask you stuff? Are you that kind of professor that doesn't mind being asked stuff?"

Milton had passed by these portraits numerous times before without much regard. Just a brief glance or two. But now he was bored between classes and didn't have anything better to do (besides homework, but whatever), so he found himself on the first floor. Eyeing all the portraits.

Most of them gave him weird looks for kind of staring. But a few of the people would greet him with friendly smiles, in which case he would just nod at them in return. He wasn't really fond of talking to portraits. He had some in his house back in Wales, but he avoided them. It was weird talking to dead people.

Portraits were meant to be ignored, as far as Ellie was concerned. They were just a noisy, nosy, gossipy bunch. Especially the ones at Hogwarts. But sometimes, you just had to pass by them. Sometimes, a lot of them. Like whenever you had to go anywhere in this horrid castle.

But...perhaps...they'd be talking of the recent match, yeah? And how amazing she was? Maybe they had connecting portraits with big Professional teams.

The Captain was keen on overhearing whatever it was they might be saying. So she tried to remain as unrecognizable as possible. She walked slowly, keeping her head down.

Thing was, she wasn't quite looking where she was going...

There really wasn't anything exciting being chatted about in the hundreds of portraits. Some gossiped, some stared, some talked about the match that Milton's house had just won (SMIRK), but it was all too slurred together, that he didn't care enough to try hard enough to listen.

So, he kept on walking, keeping his eye on all the people in the frames, just observing them while-

THUD.

"Uhff." Milton felt his body collide into something much smaller. Oh. A human. Most humans were smaller than him anyway.

His natural instinct was to get after the clumsy kid who ran into him (because it was always their fault), but he quickly changed his mind when he saw the familiar face of his captain. Yelling at her probably wasn't the best idea.

"Captain. Sorry about that. You alright?" Milton adjusted his cardigan back into place. He was being polite.

'Captain'. He just had to point it out, didn't he? Ellie was going to ignore whoever bumped into her and continue walking, listening. But now all the portraits would KNOW it was her. And so, obviously, if they were talking about the match at all, they weren't going to anymore.

"Fine," she sighed. Maybe on the next floor up she'll catch a conversation. "And...it's alright. We both need to watch where we're going, I suppose." Because, you know, if one of them was paying attention, they could have side-stepped the other.

But....since Milton was here first, "Have they mentioned the match? She made sure to speak quietly because she didn't want to be known as an eavesdropper. Who would?

That was a sigh. Ellie didn't seem very happy to see him. Which was odd. Most teenage girls were always happy to see attractive teenage boys. Hmph.

Milton shrugged. Eh, she was probably right. They needed to watch where they were going. "It would probably be better that way," he noted quietly, noticing a new scuff on his shiny black shoe. He scowled at it.

Err.. what? Milton raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher her whisper... Oh, the match. Milton smirked. "Oh yes. You seem to be the talk of the town." Even though the people in the portraits couldn't see the games, the whispers definitely made their way around.

"Probably," the Captain nodded, smirking.

Her eyes followed his to his show....which looked perfectly fine to Ellie. Either she didn't notice the scuff, or didn't think anything of it. Shoes were meant to get dirty, anyway, right?

Milton told her exactly what she wanted to hear....which made her skeptical, of course. "Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Lying was frowned upon by the redhead, you know. So he better be telling the truth.

Paulie was wandering along through the first floor corridor, but after only about twenty meters, he realized why this walk was different. Why was it different? Because the portraits were rambling WAY more than usual. Like, every time he took a step, they said something else! '..Nice hair.' 'Where you going, longlegs?', 'Would you like to hear about the time I...' BLAH, BLAH, BLAH.

Finally, as he walked by one of the later ones, he rhetorically asked, "What's today? Talk off the students' ears day?" He heard the dude in some painting fairly far behind him call out, 'That's every day!' The boy rolled his eyes, but smiled JUST a little. He supposed if he were stuck in a painting, he'd want to harass the students for some kicks, too.

Heading down toward the Great Hall, or possibly the kitchens, Stella had contemplated trying to avoid the corridor with all the portraits. At least she'd explored enough over the last couple terms that she knew of another path or two, after that time her first term at Hogwarts when people had caught her talking to the portraits and thought she was a bit off. In fact, that made her wonder what had happened to both of the boys she'd talked to then. She'd heard the rumors of what had happened to Eino, but Charles was another story and she popped a piece of toffee into he rmouth as she found herself wandering nearer to said corridor while she thought about disappearances. And then the incidences of freezing that had been occurring both to professors and students this term, even though that topic generally made her nervous. People hadn't really gotten put in danger before, while she'd been there, and freezing definitely seemed dangerous. Especially when they didn't snap out of it quickly.

The distressing thoughts faded as she heard the voices around the corner, then the familiar voice of the head boy. Deciding that she couldn't leave now, she stepped around the corner with a grin, swalowing the last bit of toffee in her mouth as the portraits responded to Paulie's questions. "Je pense qu'ils flirtent avec vous," she said as she walked up behind him, seeing if he'd remember exactly when she'd first met him. Well, technically, as honestly they'd first officially met after their transfers. "Honestly, I think they just like to hear themselves talk," she added, shooting a smile toward one particular portrait of an old man who had turned his attention to her before she flashed hiim the promise ring on her finger. "I'm sorry. It just isn't going to happen," she replied to the painted man's suggestions before turning back to Paulie with a shrug.

Did she not believe him? Milton wasn't a liar.

Well... Not always.

"Really, really." He nodded at the captain. "They always need something to chat about. And your fantastic seeking skills seem to be the most exciting thing at the moment."

Okay, so not all of the portraits were talking about Ellie in particular. In fact, not all of them were talking about the match. But what was wrong with some sweet talk, eh?

Whatwhatwhat? Was one of these portrait people speaking French? Noo, the voice sounded too young. Too familiar. And sure enough, here came Stella, walking up to him from behind. He flashed her a smile. "I'm sure they are. They're just waitin' for me to somehow dive in there and pucker up." Though a second after he said that, his smile faltered momentarily. It had brought about thoughts of other recent happenings. He pushed it away. Like to hear themselves talk? Oh, yes. That sounded accurate. "Probably," he chuckled.

Hoooooold up. Wait a sec. Did she just shut that portrait dude up by showing him an engagement ring? That's what that was, right? Paulie's eyes widened, and he blurted. "You're engaged?"

Heh.

Well.

Captain Stone was blushing madly now. "Brilliant," she said in a soft whisper. Because, you know, if the portraits were talking...who knows who else was. Scouts. Coaches. Representatives. Recruiting managers. Whoever. Everyone.

Heh.

"Good match, wasn't it?" Ellie looked up at him, "You played great, too." How fair was it that she was getting all the attention? Just because she was Seeker and Captain.

Heh.

To be fair, Chasers did have to do with the match score so...

It seemed she'd at least caught Paulie off guard with her opening comment, which brought a grin to Stella's face. The portraits were definitely being talkative, but as far as she knew, none of them spoke French. It was possible none of them even understood French, considering if it was her she definitely would have commented on the accusation.In any case, it was amusing to watch the Head Boy looking a bit confused for the moment before he'd realized she had walked up behind him. She returned the smile as he'd acknowledged her, though. "I have to admit, that would be interesting to watch," she replied, teasing a little in response to his idea of the paintings waiting for him to dive in. The teasing faltered slightly as his smile had, however, making her worry that she'd said something wrong. Something had definitely hit a nerve or something, but then the tension had faded almost as soon as it had begun.

Her grin had returned as he'd agreed with the idea of the portraits simply liking to hear themselves talk. It was another observation that oddly, the portraits themselves didn't seem to feel the need to argue against either, but then perhaps that was just because they understood that neither of them were entirely against them talking. Except for that one portrait of the old man, who had quieted down as soon as she'd finished her gentle rebuffal. And apparently it had surprised Paulie as well, as when she'd turned back to him, he'd been looking at her as if she'd dropped a brick on his head or something. Explained seconds later by his blurted question, which quickly brought an embarrassed flush to her face. "No...," she said, momentarily glancing downward again at what had obviously surprised the Gryffindor. "At least, not exactly. It's more of a promise ring," she explained. Not an engagement ring, although there had been that conversation she'd overheard last summer between Matt and Risa when her best friend had gotten him to admit that he had thought about wanting to marry her. They hadn't physically talked about that, though, and in any case he'd given her the ring way before even that.