Disclaimer all characters, settings, etc, are the copyright of JK Rowling and Bloomsbury Publishing

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Chapter Two. Big Surprises

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I had over the past few weeks, paid quite a few visits to the old lady, 'Mrs Potter', I enjoyed her company, and it also served to ease my conscience, which had been playing hell with me since I first met her. During these visits, I had discovered her name was Mrs Hermione Potter, wife of a brave decorated hero, though I was yet to find out what it was he had done that had earned him the highest honours from almost every country there is.

Visiting once again I knocked on the door as usual, it opened very slowly, I knew there was something not right as soon as I saw the ashen face that looked at me from sunken eyes, I was amazed at the decline in the old ladies health, on my last visit less than a week ago she had seemed to be gaining some strength, now she was very pale and looked ill.

"Is there anything I can do for you Mrs Potter?" I asked, I thought she may ask me to fetch her a doctor, instead she beckoned for me to follow her, leading me into the kitchen, she asked with a tired rasping voice, if I could search around for what she said looked like a piece of carved tree twig.

"It's about 10 or 11 inches long, highly polished at one end, something like a very small walking stick," she said showing the size with her hands.

About twenty minutes it took me to find it; it was well and truly wedged behind one of the cupboards, try as I might I could not shift it, frustrated I swore "bloody hell,"

"That was one of my best friends' favourite sayings, that one," she said smiling a little.

"That piece of wood you want is here but it is well and truly stuck behind this cupboard, I can't get it to move," I told her.

"Well if you have to you can break up the cupboard to get it for me," she smiled while nodding for me to go ahead.

I looked around at the gleaming kitchen; every thing was spotlessly clean and in its place, "I will make a heck of a mess smashing it," I explained to her, hoping to make sure she wanted me to carry on.

"That doesn't matter, a mess can be cleaned up I really need that little piece of wood, I lost it four days ago, and no matter what I did I could not retrieve it," she sounded a little desperate.

Desperate enough for me to forget about making a mess and get to work pulling her cupboard apart, ten minutes later I had the piece of wood in my hand and was passing it to her, the smile and relief on her old face made it worth all the sweat and the few cuts and scratches I had obtained.

"I don't have the time or strength to make you a drink and wait for your visit to end, so today you are going to see what few Muggle's have seen since Merlin was around," she told me.

Confused, I looked at her wondering what on earth she was talking about, what was a Muggle, and Merlin wasn't he a wizard in the time of King Arthur, still I had come to know that I could trust her, she was one of the most honest people I had ever met in all my long life of fourteen years.

"I must ask you not to tell anyone at all, not a soul must know what you see here today, there would be dire consequences if the Ministry found out," she almost whispered looking around as though she might see someone spying on us.

Remembering the newspaper article that said Mr Potter was part of some secret organisation to keep the former queen safe I gave my promise and assured her that I would never tell anyone if I saw anything that was a secret, I had no idea what was about to happen.

"Right," she said "you pop the kettle on and I will get my medicine then I will repair the cupboard."

I found myself spilling water all across the floor as I watched her, she simply pointed the little piece of wood, the one that had led to the mess I was standing in, at the top shelf on a welsh dresser, two plates moved aside and a small glass bottle floated too her hand, the stopper popped out and the old lady took a long drink of the liquid within. By the time I had righted the kettle, she was looking a lot stronger, a little colour returned to her face.

I looked on totally awed by what I was seeing, as I watched she pointed the stick at the broken pieces of her cupboard, seconds later and the pieces were putting themselves back together, in the blink of an eye the cupboard was returned to its former glory, standing unmarked against the wall of the kitchen. Another wave of her twig and the mess I had made spilling the water disappeared.

"How on earth? are you magic? You are aren't you, you are magic," I gasped as my brain finally began to work.

"Yes dear, I actually am a witch, though we in the wizard world are not the way we are portrayed in your story books, in fact we actually have a ministry of magic, my best friend Ron Weasley is the minister."

I sat down at the table trying to take in what I was being told, "So your husband, he was a wizard?" I asked.

"Oh yes he was indeed, in fact he was the greatest there ever was, he was recognised the world over, and brave, he was so brave, he fought evil where ever he found it." pride for the man she so obviously still loved shone in her eyes as she told me.

"Would you like to read about him, I have saved all the wizard news papers, they tell most of his story," she pointed her wand at a drawer.

It opened gently and a pile of old yellowing news papers floated across to the table, I had never actually seen a news paper outside a museum before entering her house and said so, "These must be worth a small fortune," I commented as the papers settled in a neat pile.

I could tell Mrs Potter was extremely proud to have been his wife from the look in her eye as she made and offered me a drink of tea. I had several cups more as I read the papers well into the evening, by the time I was finished I had learnt quite a lot about a world I had never even known about, never even guessing it existed. I also now knew about the public life of Mr Harry Potter, saviour of both the wizard world and the Muggle world, my world, I was amazed at the stories of his deeds, the bravery of a person who had grown up being treated with cruelty, yet still being able to over come such an awful and truly bad start in life.

My brain was in a turmoil as I rose to leave, something about the old lady being a witch, must have leaked out to the villagers many years before, probably about the time her husband had died from his wounds after saving the world. She had been at his side fighting the powerful evil that had faced the world, now many years later all she had done had been forgotten by my world, all that remained was the teasing she got from the villagers, I left there that night determined to put a stop to it, she should not be picked on any more, she was a better and much braver person than any of the villagers.

"I won't be coming home straight from school," I told my mother as I left our house the following Wednesday morning.

"Will you be late in; should I save your meal?" My mother enquired a little look of concern on her face.

"No thanks mum, I'll get something at the old Ladies, I promised my self I would check she is ok."

"You're such a good boy, looking out for the old aged," mother said.

I wondered if she would have said the same thing if she had known who and what Mrs Potter was. The time seemed to be dragging, all day at school I watched the clock waiting for four o clock, when the final bell of the day rang, I rushed from the class and was out of the school gates before any of my friends had even put on their coats.

Mrs Potter looked so much better than the last time when she invited me in, I felt sort of warm inside, knowing that in a little way I had helped her. "I was thinking about you and Mr Potter at school, I could not help wondering how long ago it was you lost him?" saying it I suddenly felt a little stupid and nosey. I had read all those papers and never once looked at a date on them.

"Harry died 127 years ago; we had only been married for a year. I never really lost him completely though, we have a daughter and seven grandchildren, they all live in Australia and America. I get to see them all at Christmas and at the Potter day celebrations, that and I still talk to him every day," she told me a smile adding even more creases to her face.

"There is a Potter day, wow, he must have been a really nice man," I replied feeling sorry for her. She talks to him every day, I thought, well I suppose if you lose some one at such a young age it is bound to affect your mind. My thoughts were interrupted as she stood and gestured for me to follow her.

We entered a room I had never been in before, it was obvious even to me that this was a rather large library, it was also obvious that it was her favourite room, the old armchair next to the fire was really well worn, a little like the one I had seen earlier, but this one still bore the impression of where she had so obviously sat down to read so many times.

"I would like you to meet my husband," she announced as she pointed to a life-size portrait of Mr Harry James Potter.

He was only young when the picture had been done, I guessed he was about twenty, maybe twenty two years old, I could see that he had been a very handsome, and very determined young man, and from the look on his face a very serious man.

"Harry this is the boy I told you about, the one who has been helping me," she said looking up at the portrait.

I looked at her full of sympathy, then looked back at the picture and I felt a really deep wave of affection for the old lady sweep through me, she must have had a very hard and lonely life if she was reduced to talking to a portrait.