After Potter had wandered off to assist some third years, Severus had bid farewell to Zabini and hurried out of the Great Hall.

He headed down an arbitrary hallway, not going anywhere in particular, just needing to move and to think.

The meeting had not been what Severus had expected it to be. In all honesty, Severus wasn’t sure what he had expected it to be, but certainly not the cohesive lesson on a useful spell that it had turned out to be.

And then there had been that scene with Neville Longbottom.

Severus was having a hard time assimilating it with his view of Longbottom’s character and abilities. The Longbottom he knew was a clutz, an ignoramus, a person incapable of learning from his mistakes.

But after the way Potter was able to gently correct Longbottom’s mistakes, and the way Longbottom had learned from the corrections- Severus wasn’t sure that he was entirely right about Longbottom.

And with that thought, the quiet voice that was so insistent on defending Potter quietly suggested that perhaps Severus was wrong about Potter too.

Examining this thought, Severus began to wonder why it had been so easy for him to recognize and begin to accept that his image of Longbottom was not entirely accurate, but so hard for him to accept the same about Potter.

After all, he had known both boys for the same amount of time, had had nearly the same amount of exposure to both boys, excepting the Occlumency lessons with Potter that had gone so badly during the past year.

Thinking of those lessons reminded Severus of his first confrontation with Minerva after he had been deaged. She had implored him to use his Occlumency to separate his memories of Harry and James, and he had brushed off her words, sure that he had not been confusing the two.

But now, he had to wonder if there had been some worth in Minerva’s suggestion. It would certainly explain why it was so easy for him to accept that his view of Longbottom’s character had been inaccurate, but so difficult for him to accept that his view of Potter’s was similarly inaccurate.

It felt like it was easier said than done to tackle the memories though. What he really wished he had was someone not connected to Albus, or Potter, or Minerva, that he could talk to about the situation. Really, since most of what he had to do was in his own head, he wished he had someone to tell him that he really was making the right decision to listen to Minerva’s advice.

Unfortunately, he had no such person in his life.

Severus came to a halt, and it took him a moment to realize why he was no longer moving. The hallway he had chosen to meander down was a deadend, and he had reached the end of it without noticing, so buried in his thoughts was he.

He saw that there was a room off to his right and decided that this room was probably as good a room as any for him to settle in to do some serious thinking, so he pulled open the door and entered the room.

Once Severus lit the lamps, he was able to see that it was, essentially, a sitting room. In times long past, there had been classes offered at Hogwarts taken in such small numbers by the students that the optimal classroom setting was a sitting room. He was pleased that he had found a room so well suited to the task at hand, and walked over to sit in one of the armchairs.

“Who are you,” a voice demanded.

Severus whirled around in a circle, looking for the source of the voice. He hadn’t noticed anybody, and a human was quite a large thing to just overlook. He was startled to see that it was not, in fact, a human who had spoken, but was instead a portrait.

The woman portrayed was wearing a man’s suit from, if Severus had to guess, the turn of the century. Her dark hair was pinned back from her face and she wore a pair of spectacles that she pushed further up her nose as he watched. She was seated with one leg slung over the arm of her chair and the other firmly planted on the ground.

“Well?” The portrait insisted, shifting so both feet were on the ground and her arms were crossed.

Severus sighed and said, “I’m Eli Hopkirk, I’m a sixth year in Gryffindor. Is that all, or do you want to know my astrological sign and blood type?”

The portrait rolled her eyes. She uncrossed her arms and said, “I’m Amanda Whittle, at the time I was painted I was 22 years old and a Ravenclaw alumna. And I’m a Leo. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Severus was the one who rolled his eyes this time. He reconsidered the wisdom of using this room to sort through his memories, but the thought of searching the castle for somewhere anywhere near as comfortable as this room was unappealing. He resigned himself to a conversation with the chatty portrait.

“I’m a Capricorn, if you must know,” he decided to say. The only reason he even knew that was because back in his second or third year, Lucius had been taking Divination, and he had needed to go through someone’s chart for an assignment. Unfortunately, Severus had had the misfortune to be there. And ever since that day, Lucius had taken to blaming Severus’s traits on his star chart.

Severus had a hard time believing that his tendencies toward pessimism and sarcasm were because Mercury had been in Capricorn when he was born.

“You were the one who suggested we exchange astrology signs,” Amanda reminded him. “Anyways, what are you doing out here? I rarely get visitors now that they’ve stopped offering Wizarding Mythology.”

Severus regretted that they’d cancelled the class before his own time at Hogwarts, especially if it had been an alternative to History of Magic. “I was just wandering through the hallways when I stumbled on this room. It looked like a nice place to just sit and think.” He paused as he thought back to what Amanda had said. “Why don’t you go visit other portraits if you don’t get many visitors?”

Amanda looked at him for a moment and Severus wondered if she knew what he was really asking. He had just wished that he had someone to talk to, someone who was unconnected to the entire deaging situation. And here he had stumbled upon someone who might fit that role. If she hadn’t visited anyone because she couldn’t, and people rarely came here, then Severus would be able to confide in her without fear that she would spread the information throughout the school.

Not to mention that if she was confined to this room, she would likely be lonely and therefore all the more willing to listen to him talk, just for the sake of having someone to talk to. Dumbledore had always said that Hogwarts would give what was needed to those who needed it. He’d always thought that was typical Dumbledore tripe, but here he was, in the perfect setting to relax and with someone to talk to.

Just like he’d wanted.

“Tragically, I was painted by an idiot who couldn’t manage to the spells to allow me to leave my frame. Back when the study of Wizarding Mythology was popular, it didn’t matter so much because I had a constant flow of visitors. But ever since the class was cut from the course list, I can go years before someone stumbles across my room.”

Severus could not believe his luck, and didn’t fight the smile that briefly curled his lips.

Amanda narrowed her eyes at him and said, “Why do I have a bad feeling about you now.”

“I’m just standing here-”

“Don’t move,” she interrupted him and pulled her glasses off her face to give them a good cleaning. She put them back on her face and said, “What’s that look on your face mean.”

Severus wiped the smile off his face. “That’s as close as I get to smiling,” he informed her. Amanda didn’t need to know that he’d only smiled because he was planning to use her as a confidant.

“You,” she said, pointing at him, “are one repressed child.”

Severus spluttered. “I am not-” he started to say, before he realized that, really, she was right. Eli Hopkirk was a child. But then he remembered that he was planning to confide in her, so this was actually a decent opportunity to tell her the truth about the whole thing.

Amanda was already raising an eyebrow at him.

“So, Eli Hopkirk is definitely a child. But I am not actually Eli Hopkirk,” Severus said, and settled in to tell her the whole story.