The headmasters' portraits were not things anyone could move on a whim. Never mind bringing one into the hall—even taking one down from the Headmaster's office for a short while required Dumbledore to do it himself.
In fact, taking a portrait out of Hogwarts was impossible, let alone expecting the former headmasters to help you from there. Unless, of course, you could tear down the school.
But Dumbledore had gone and hung himself in the sky, leaving Headmaster Black, who had planned to shirk his duties, with no excuse to slack off.
"Can't an old man enjoy a little peace and quiet in retirement? You're taking my portrait beyond the Earth,
and if anything goes wrong, Albus can come back with a couple of spells, but my portrait will be ruined!"
Headmaster Black grumbled, but he set off all the same, leaving an empty frame in the hall.
The three—oh, no, four—headmasters wore solemn expressions. None reacted, as though Headmaster Black had just told a joke that fell flat.
"We'll be waiting here a while yet, and there's no point just sitting around. Is there a dream anyone would like to see? We could play one here."
Watching a movie while the Headmaster was still hanging in the sky felt a little strange, but waiting idly served no purpose either. Everything that needed preparing was ready, and everything that needed planning had been planned. A tour was out of the question; they had to stay here for news from Headmaster Black. However they looked at it, watching a projected dream was their best option.
"A dream? How is Hogwarts' Dream Tree coming along?"
Madame Maxime's face was a picture of innocent curiosity, as though she knew nothing about it. Andrew privately scoffed but answered in an even tone. "It's still