Walburga Black was bored, being stuck in a painting, day in day out, watching the disappointment of a son hang around with Mudbloods and Half Breeds.
In fact, one could say that despite all her efforts to try and foster some kind of relationship with her eldest son, she had driven him to the point where he had forced her curtain shut with spellotape and Permanent Sticking Charms.
The only way she could find out anything that was happening in her house was to shuffle between portraits. Portraits of her father, Pollux, who had killed his father over a House Elf execution, portraits of her great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black, alongside other relatives as well.
Making the decision to shuffle into the portrait of her great-grandfather, she could see a sight that she had last seen when she had stumbled into her Aunt Dorea's bedroom once.
"Monty's Python!" she exclaimed, disturbing the young man who was currently drilling into his girlfriend.
The young raven-haired man and his bushy-haired girlfriend first looked at the portrait, then quickly gathered a whole selection of clothes around them, shock on their faces having been interrupted by the portrait of the former Black Matriarch.
"What are you doing in here?" Harry Potter asked the portrait, embarrassed at the situation. "I thought Sirius had confined you to your portrait downstairs."
"That disappointment of a son did. But he forgot that he wasn't exactly the sharpest Kneezle in the litter. I can still transfer between portraits in the house if I wanted to." Walburga Black said, fidgeting. "And it's a good thing I did, especially after seeing that python in play."
Hermione turned around and looked down at Harry's erection, and then back up at his face. "To be fair love, it is more than your average snake."
"Exactly. The last time I saw a member like that, I had sneaked into my Auntie Dorea's room at Potter Manor and interrupted Monty...Fleamont, your grandfather, and Mia, whilst they were...erm...practicing number 17, the spread eagle." The Black Matriarch said, sighing at the memory. "How I wished my Orion had been as hung as Fleamont and his Monty Python."
It was then Hermione giggled. Harry looked at her questioningly.
"I'm... I'm sorry, but you're not the Chosen One, you're just a very naughty boy!"