Chapter 7 - Marauders

"How can they touch and kiss so much" Vernon complained. Loudly. "No wonder they bred like rabbits."

Petunia and he were glaring at the waking Weasleys. The family had decided to have breakfast alfresco, as it was a lovely day in the painting and they wanted Harry's Aunt and Uncle to enjoy the view. Molly had given her husband a passionate kiss when their children were inside gathering the dishes, and the Dursleys found the public display of affection repulsive.

It had been a long night. Weasleys, giants, and elves had been partying, celebrating their new life as paintings. Plenty of ale, visiting, and catching up was going on. Harry slept on, unaware. Petunia and Vernon gazed longingly, wishing they could walk and ease the cramps in their legs, or drink and slake the dryness in their parched mouths. Every one of Harry's friends was so delighted to see each other. Petunia realized with a jolt that nobody missed her – she was certain of that.

Harry had awakened. He quietly moved his chair next to the Dursleys so he could watch the Weasleys and friends and comment to his aunt and uncle. For breakfast he had conjured a juicy pear, a bowl of fruit salad, and a large pitcher of iced water. He ate with slurping, sloppy sounds so they could see the pear dripping down his chin, hear the smacking and contented chewing, smell the tang of the produce in their nostrils. It didn't bother Harry in the least.

He wiped his hand on his trouser leg, much to his aunt's disgust. Personal hygiene had gone out the door of Harry's life years ago. There was nobody left to wash up for. He stood and walked over the wall of paintings, wishing his friends a good morning.

At least he was calmer, Vernon observed. His nephew was nowhere near as spooky and crazy acting ever since waking some of his friends up. But when was he going to stop this torture and let them out? If he could provide mansions and feasts for a bunch of hobos, gypsies and freaks, he could at least provide for his own flesh and blood!

"Today you meet a few friends of mine" Harry said, to no one in particular. He walked up to a row of paintings at the top near the wall and turned on a few cottages. "First, we need some more homes for good people to live in" and he was amused to see a surge of hope leap into his aunt and uncle's eyes. "Here is Diagon Ally – where I bought my books, my wand, my supplies. Where Hagrid bought my Hedwig." The town street came to life, with a few shopkeepers and many stores filled with exotic goods, none of which the Dursleys could make any sense out of.

With a sad sigh he turned from the Alley and faced another blank portrait. The familiar hand gesture started, and the Dursleys watched a young couple come into view. The man was middle aged, with salt & pepper hair and signs of a hard life. His robes were patched and torn, and his eyes the most peculiar shade of amber. The lady in the painting was younger, fit and attractive except for the outrageously short hair that kept changing colors of the rainbow, much to Petunia's disgust.

"Wake up Moony, Tonks." Harry spoke softly. The figures blinked, yawned, and the girl promptly fell off her chair. Harry chuckled.

"Wotcher, Harry! How'd we snuff it?" the young woman winked at the Boy-Who-Lived. She had her arms wrapped around the man, who returned the embrace as they watched the young wizard in front of them.

"Hi ya Tonks, Moony" Harry nodded at the couple with obvious affection. "You died protecting me from Voldemort."

"I certainly hope you aren't blaming yourself, Harry!" Remus Lupin gave the boy a penetrating gaze. "As I recall, everyone was dying. Did we win?"

Harry let a shuddering sob escape. "Yeah – we did. But England will never be the same."

Remus and Tonks looked around the portrait with curiosity. "Where are we, Harry?" he asked the wizard.

"My art gallery, Moony. Feel free to look around. I have plenty homes and places to go, most of the Weasleys are here, Hagrid, Dobby and Winky."

"Petunia?" Lupin spied the Dursleys across the room. "Harry, what are you doing?"

"They can't leave" Harry broke into his disturbed, high pitched giggles. "I want them to see what they are missing, what they did." He limped over to the canvas next to the Lupins. "Wake up, Padfoot. Time to join your friends".

The dark haired, blue-eyed man woke up. He blinked and looked down at Harry. "Cub? You found my portrait! What happened to you – you look awful."

With a snort, Harry dryly answered, "Dursley happened to me."

"You mean your uncle did that to you?" Sirius Black looked in horror at his one-armed, heavily scarred godson.

Vernon watched helplessly as his nephew brought the murderer Sirius Black up with all that had happened since the man had died so many years ago. Black and Lupin kept looking over at the two of them, shooting deadly, threatening looks. Why couldn't these freaks understand that he was trying to improve the boy? If he could have beaten the magic out of him, it would have done them all a favor. After all, he had fed the lad with his hard earned food, clothed him with his hard earned clothes.

"What about full moons, Harry?" Remus asked nervously. Tonks hugged him in support.

"I don't know if it's an issue with paintings. The artist wasn't sure, and we are pretty far from the moon down here. But if it is, several cottages have reinforced basements, Moony" Harry shrugged. "But I also have a spell I could teach you to go to and from my aunt and uncle's canvas. It would only work for you during full moons." He broke into a crazed giggle. "You could hurt them all you want – they can't die." Remus shook his head sadly, but Sirius smiled at the Dursleys with anticipation.

"Wh-hu-at?" Vernon was sweating buckets, and Petunia again tried to back away from the all-revealing glass front of the cupboard.

"Oh – I forgot to tell you, dear Aunt, dear Uncle. Moony here is a werewolf."