Astrid Orla Clearwater, Wizarding royalty and well known all over the world. You grew up listening to stories about the potters as they were your parents best friends. What happens when you find your best friend from when you were newborns, separate...
Song for this chapter: These days by the wallows Night//October 31st 1993
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"Why isn't anyone going in?" Asked Ron curiously
Astrid squeezed herself to the front—gasping at the sight before her very eyes. Claw marks had slashed the portrait that greeted every Gryffindor student into their common room for years and the lady—as annoying as most found her—had disappeared, sparking concern in everyone's brave hearts.
"Let me through, please," came Percy's voice—he pushed passed the large crowd forming on the grand steps that led to Gryffindor tower
"Everyone back away, head boy Percy Weasley coming through—he's head boy people—get out of his way" Fred and George mocked their brother, snickering to one another as they leaned against the railings to clear the way for their brother
"Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick." Percy yelled when he got to the top
Astrid forced her way back to her friends who were stood in await for her return and the explanation that would come with it "The lady" she worriedly scratched her neck "she's missing—can portraits die?—theres gashes" she spluttered
"Oh, my" Hermione grabbed Harry's arm, a hand pressed too her cheek in shock
"Serves her right. She was a terrible singer." Ron laughed with Seamus and Dean
"It's not funny, Ron." Hermione shook her head at the three in a disappointing fashion
A moment later—Professor Dumbledore appeared, sweeping towards the portrait with utmost seriousness. The students watched his face closely for any panic or worry that should be felt within their own chests—laughter and jokes dying down into static type buzzing.
Astrid's own heart leaped at his somber eyes, barley glancing at the portrait before he turned towards Professors Lupin and McGonagall.
The two shared looks of worry as Dumbledore's long fingers ever so gently grazed the ripped edges of the portrait "Mr. Filch? Round up the ghosts. Tell them to search every painting in the castle to find the Fat Lady"
"There's no need for ghosts, professor. The Fat Lady's there" Filch said, one eye smaller than the other and a furry eyebrow raised.
He pointed with his—unkempt— finger, just a few feet away from the staircase they all had grouped together at.
Everyone followed suit towards the next staircase, forcing Dumbledore to have to squeeze through clusters of nosey students to speak to the missing lady.
"Dear lady, who did this to you?" Dumbledore calmly asked as the woman shook and cried in a portrait of a grazed field and cows
"Eyes like the devil, he's got, and a soul as dark as his name." The women cried, looking around nervously as if the person would appear out of nowhere for a second attack "It's him, headmaster. The one they all talk about. He's here, somewhere in the castle! Sirius Black!"
