A'San's face in the painting had turned the color of pig liver. His skin had already been dark, but now he looked even darker.
But he was just a painting. At a time like this, there was nothing he could do except rage impotently.
However, the sound of the argument clearly caught the attention of the people in the other two paintings. They too returned to their frames, seemingly to watch the spectacle.
One of them was a fat wizard dressed like a Venetian merchant, covered in lavish ornaments.
They said that if your head was big and your neck thick, you were either a boss or a cook. Yet he was not from Hufflepuff. On the contrary, he had been the headmaster of Slytherin a thousand years ago—Professor Charles Rookwood, a pure-blooded good man.
Unfortunately, his descendants had not lived up to expectations. Charles was also the ancestor of Augustus Rookwood, Voldemort's right-hand man, who had once been planted in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries. He was a man whose hair was even greasier than Severus's had once been.
Did all of noseless Tom's subordinates wear greasy slicked-back hair? Was it because they all looked so unkempt that Voldemort had decided to shave himself bald?
In any case, after Voldemort died, he too was purged as a Death Eater. That guy now had a suite in Azkaban, where Dementors kissed him every day. He should have become a man without worries by now, right?
The last wizard was Headmistress Fitzgerald, the Hogwarts headmistress at the time. She was a powerful witch and also one of Isidora's victims.
Even as a painted portrait after death, she seemed to retain an elegant air of authority. She stopped A'San from stomping about inside his painting, then gently joined the conversation.