“Pleased to meet you,” he said, staring mesmerized at the man in the portrait. “I’m Albus. Albus Severus Potter.”
The man raised his eyebrows, a look of surprise on his face. “Not the son of the famous Harry Potter?”
“The very same.”
The ends of his lips curled into a calculating smile, and his beetle-black eyes met the boy’s startlingly green ones. He had greasy black hair and a hooked nose, and was dressed all in black.
“Welcome to Hogwarts then, Potter. Let me just say I hope you have less of a knack for rule-breaking than your father did.”
“You knew my father?” he asked.
“Certainly. I was the potions master during his time here. Unfortunately I died towards the end of his final year.”
“And you’ve been hanging here all this time?”
“Always,” he said.