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Post by charlotte archet ! on Apr 7, 2008 20:32:54 GMT -5
you are my sunshine --
Charlotte vaguely wondered if she was the only witch born into the magical society who had ever thought that talking to the portrait of a dead person was a little bit creepy. She had never really gotten used to the way they somehow possessed the memory of their model, and would never die. They could move, they could leave forever, she supposed, if they wanted to. It was so strange. It must be even more so for muggleborns. Magic was so inexplicable, in truth, and Charlie, having been closely acquainted in the past with both muggles and muggleborns, and also having reflected on it many times, recognized how hard it must be for the poor people who had to invent and figure out how to do things using science, to let go and just let magic be magic. She herself had come to the conclusion, after giving it some thought, that magic simply could not be analyzed, deciphered, or properly understood at all.
The fact that these 'profound' observations had been made by a fourteen year old girl would coax praise from the patronizing. Charlie knew this full well, and therefore did not share her knowledge with others. In fact, she left it behind somewhere in her mind and turned to daydreaming, and gazing about at the hundreds of portraits which surrounded her. They took no real notice of her, the subjects of the paintings. She was doing them no harm, and hadn't asked to be taken notice of, so they carried on with their strange portrait business. It was as if they had their own worls inside those frames. Couches and chairs that were painted into one picture could be filled by various characters from others. It looked silly, because of their clashing colours and brush strokes and painting styles, but nobody who was attending the little party paid any attention to it. Charlie smiled to herself as she passed by them.
What had brought Charlotte to the portrait hall? Well, boredom. Things were rather slow around the castle at the moment. Class hasn't started yet, and the students hadn't even all arrived back from the holidays. It looked like the caretaker had been taking a break as well, judging from the dust that floated around the room the girl was wandering through. On the whole the room was rather gloomy; the only light seeped in through a large window at the end of the room, and the daylight was slowly fading from the sky. A soft more-yellow-than-white cream colour tinted the sky, and flooded in, creating pools on the dark carpet and giving even the dusty gilted frames a gleam or a shimmer. Charlie wandered over to the window, basking in the light, staring out at the mountains which were in view from here. It was beautiful; the portraits who could see this every day and every night were the lucky ones, to be sure.
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