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

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Chapter Three, Shocks and Surprises

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I looked up again at the portrait, it was a life size picture of a very handsome Mr Potter, for some reason it seemed to be staring at Mrs Potter, I knew it was my imagination, after all paintings can't stare. My sympathy for her grew a little more, she had been married to a very brave and now I knew, a very handsome man, but it was so long ago, shouldn't she have found someone else, shouldn't she have been happy, instead of talking to a painting, my heart reached out for this old lady.

Mrs Potter was staring at the painting a look of anger on her face. "Harry James Potter don't you dare, you broke more rules in a year than I have done in my entire lifetime," she growled at the picture.

Still the picture seemed to be staring at her, as she spoke again. "He already knows I am a witch, and he saved my life when I lost my wand, he found it for me, granted he did destroy a cupboard but he also saw me repair it, and he saw me get my potion from top of the Welsh dresser so stop this nonsense right now and say thank you to the boy."

I was becoming a little hedgy, I did indeed know she was a witch, but I was not fully prepared for a witch who talked to paintings expecting them to answer.

"Right if you are going to stay silent I might as well put a cover over you," she was saying, when I heard a mans voice reply "Ok, Mione no need to go to extremes, hello young man, and thank you for helping my dear wife."

At first I froze at the sound of a strange man's voice behind me, my mind seemed to have locked up and was totally bereft of thought, after a few seconds I spun around to see the picture looking at me; a huge smile had appeared on his face, "I- I- I-It moved!" I spluttered I'm quite sure my eyebrows moved to the top of my scalp as my eyes widened with shock.

"I am not now, nor have I ever been, an 'it'," the man in the picture said as his smile vanished. His bright green eyes looked to Mrs Potter, "your friend called me an 'it', Hermione Jane Potter, an 'it', I find that most offensive," he said with what struck me as a comical pout.

"Harry dear, what did you expect, he's a Muggle, he probably thought I was crazy when you kept silent," Mrs Potter sighed.

I gasped and as my legs shook and then gave way I flopped back on to one of the comfy chairs that were placed around the room in no sort of order, only there was no chair behind me and I ended up sitting with a rather hard thump on my... on the floor. I stared at the painting as the man in it himself took a seat in a rather large and comfortable looking arm chair, my knees were still feeling a little weak as I moved across the floor to one of the chairs, when I stood using the chair as a support the painting spoke again making me drop backward into the chair rather like an old man.

"I see you found a comedian to cheer your day dear," he said as he looked down at me.

"You can actually speak and move," I finally managed to say without sounding to rude, "I mean I never expected- I mean I thought... well I thought Mrs Potter was-, well you know..." I decided to shut up I was digging myself deep into a hole.

"Would you like a cup of tea dear, and maybe a biscuit or two?" she asked me as I stared at her husband Harry Potter, the reluctant hero of more than a century ago.

Thinking she might leave me alone with a talking picture I declined the offer, I was not ready yet, it was still sinking into my brain, I had spoken to a painting that moved around smiled and pouted and spoke back.

I looked at her, I was about to say something, as she waved her wand and a tray holding a pot of tea and a plate of ginger nut biscuits appeared in front of me. "Oh what the heck," I said out loud and reached for a cup and some biscuits, sitting back with them in my still slightly shaky hands I stared once more at the picture, that's when the next shock came, a female voice came from behind me making me jump and spill some hot tea on my knee.

"Hermione Potter, one of these days you are going to get into real trouble," it said.

I turned to look, to see where the voice had come from, only to be greeted by the portrait of a very good looking red haired woman smiling at me.

"Don't worry dear, Hermione knows just how you feel, she was a Muggle till she was eleven," she said, "hard to take it all in at first, but you soon become used to it," then she looked at Mrs Potter, "It's a good job mother is asleep Hermione or you would be getting a right telling off from her," she grinned.

"Ginny Weasley, listen at who's talking, one of the witches who accompanied my husband, me and your brother in their rule breaking in our fifth year," Mrs Potter was laughing.

"The boy looks hungry to me, needs a good meal or two in him," another voice said from my left, giving me yet another shock.

I turned to see another portrait, this one was of an older motherly looking woman, with a warm smile, and a warm welcoming look in her eyes.

"Molly Weasley you say every one needs feeding, I used to be surprised you never said that about Dudley," Mr Potter laughed, joined by the other woman along with Mrs Potter.

I think my poor old brain must have been on the over load setting by now because suddenly I was feeling left out for some reason, I asked "Dudley, who's Dudley?"

Mr Potter answered me with a question "You don't know much about us do you?"

"Only what I read in the papers Mrs Potter showed to me," I answered.

"Well remind me to tell you our story someday, I have a feeling you may just be surprised," he giggled as he watched my eyes.

Mrs Potter was pointing her wand at the several wall lights, as she pointed it at each one in turn they began to glow brighter, I had not realised just how long I had been there till then, I looked over at window to see it was getting quite dark out. Placing my cup and plate on the tray that still hovered between us, "I have to get home, my mother will be getting worried," I mumbled. I did not want them thinking I was a mummies boy and had to rush home for a certain hour, which of course I did or that I was still a little nervous, which of course I was, I mean it's not every day you get to talk to a hero, especially a dead one.

"Oh right, well I will see you out dear," Mrs Potter nodded.

Feeling a little silly with my self I said goodnight to the pictures, I was still finding it a bit hard to grasp. Reaching the door, I opened it and was about to leave when Mrs Potter asked me to wait a moment, she returned to the library and came back with a real book. "You might like to read this," she said as she handed me a small leather bound book.

Looking at the cover I read the title, 'The life and times of the real boy who lived, by Mr R B Weasley'.

"Thanks," was all I mumbled.

My journey home went by unnoticed as I thought over what I had seen, something inside me wanted to see more, something wanted me to try some magic, to see if I could do it. I picked up a small piece of tree branch as I walked, trimmed it down by pulling off the little stubby broken parts, then waved it at a cat while thinking jump, of course nothing happened except the cat gave me an odd look, but I so wanted to do some magic I tried again, I threw the stick away after my fourth attempt failed.

Reaching home I walked into the kitchen, my mum asked where I had been and though I wanted to tell her all about the portraits, I knew she would think me crazy so I told her I had been walking and lost track of time. I began to read the book Mrs Potter gave me as I sat eating my meal; it was not long before I was engrossed deeply in its pages.

I went to bed early so that I could read without being disturbed, as I read many questions began to form in my head, would Mrs Potter be able to teach me any magic, could a Muggle do magic, was I a Muggle or maybe I was a great undiscovered wizard like Mr Potter. My fourteen year old imagination took flight, thinking up the many ways I could learn magic, that night my dreams were full of my exploits as a hero wizard saving the lives of my friends and family.