“Aunt Marge's Big Mistake,” Hermione read. Harry wrinkled his nose, knowing that she was most likely coming to visit. He extremely disliked Aunt Marge.
“Didn't Harry's uncle mention a Marge in the first book?” Luna asked. Harry nodded.
“Yeah,” he said, reaching down for it. He flipped to the page where she was mentioned. “'Marge's ill,' he informed Aunt Petunia. 'Ate a funny whelk…'. It was back when I first got my letter in the first book, the one I didn't get to read.”
“You mean the first of the ones you didn't get to read,” Hermione said.
Harry went down to breakfast next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room.
“And, of course, instead of telling him that the exercise is good for him, they willingly let him become fatter and fatter,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “I would have thought their stupidity would eventually stop surprising me.”
“I don't think that'll happen, unless you stop expecting them to change,” Harry said.
“I really should, then,” Hermione said.
Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.
Luna and Hermione seemed to turn green at the description.
Harry sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of moustache. Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys gave any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room, but Harry was far too used to this to care. He helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the newsreader on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict.
“... the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately.”
“The Muggles have people with the surname of Black as well?” Cedric asked, looking interested. He knew that this Black couldn't possibly be the very same Black that was mentioned in the first book, the Black who was a supporter of Voldemort, since Azkaban was inescapable. He also knew that he really shouldn't be surprised that there were people in the Muggle world with the surname of Black, yet he was.
“Yes,” Hermione said. “I know that I've got a Black on my mother's side of the family. It's my grandfather, and if I'm right, he's still alive. At least, I know mum's mentioned getting Christmas cards from him, and I know she got one when I was seven. I remember seeing it on the table, and reading it. He signed it 'M. Black'.” She let out a smile. “I remember reading that he would love to see me.” The smile faded. “My parents, however, don't really seem inclined to take me to meet him, and I haven't heard of any other card's since then. She also very closed mouth about him.” She shook her head. “I think I also have a couple on my father's side of the family, but it's so far back that I can't really remember correctly. I only know because my mother was interested in charting out the family tree and history at one point in time.” She shrugged, turning back to the book.
“No need to tell us he’s no good,” snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. “Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout!”
“I get the feeling he broke out of prison, then,” Hermione said.
“Look at his hair!”
“I think he's saying I'm no good as well,” Harry said dryly.
He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon.
“Seems you're correct,” Cedric said.
Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed.
“I think anyone would feel very well groomed compared to someone like that,” Hermione said.
The newsreader had reappeared.
“The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today –“
“They didn't say where he escaped from,” Hermione said, frowning.
“Maybe he wasn't actually ever in jail,” Harry said. “Perhaps he just didn't care to take care of himself.”
“Or he wasn't able to,” Luna said.
“True,” Hermione said.
“Hang on!” barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the newsreader. “You didn’t tell us where that maniac’s escaped from!”
“Okay, so he was in jail,” Harry said, also frowning. “Then why didn't they mention where he'd escaped from...”
Cedric had suddenly gone pale. If they usually said where a person escaped from, and didn't this time, then...No, he was just being paranoid. Azkaban was inescapable, after all. There was no way it was that person. No way at all. But what if... a traitorous voice said in his head. He squashed it immediately, before the thought could be finished.
“What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!”
Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window.
“Just the thought of it, and she has to check, just to make sure, so she can be the first one to call the number,” Harry said, shaking his head.
Harry knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hotline number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on her boring, law-abiding neighbours.
“Which make her life rather dull, since there's really nothing for her to gossip about,” Harry said.
“When will they learn,” said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, “that hanging’s the only way to deal with these people?”
“Would he be saying that if it was him or one of his family members in the position of whoever this Black person is?” Hermione said.
“He wouldn't claim relation to them, unless it was Aunt Marge,” Harry said. “And then he'd fight it, and get himself in trouble.”
“Very true,” said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door’s runner-beans.
“I wonder if she was actually listening,” Hermione said.
Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch and added, “I’d better be off in a minute, Petunia, Marge’s train gets in at ten.”
Harry, whose thoughts had been upstairs with the Broomstick Servicing Kit, was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump.
“Yeah, that would be unwelcome news for me,” Harry said.
“Aunt Marge?” he blurted out. “Sh-she’s not coming here, is she?”
“Why do you call her Aunt Marge?” Hermione asked, not having heard Harry call her that earlier.
“I've been told to call her that since I was young,” Harry said, shrugging.
“Even though she's not a blood relative of yours?” Luna said. Harry nodded.
“Why I mean, I would understand it if you'd actually grown up, you know, like you belong in the family, but you didn't, so...” Hermione said. Harry shrugged, having never asked. He had just been told that he had to call her aunt, and was punished until it was almost an automatic response.
Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon’s sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Harry’s (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia’s sister), he had been forced to call her ‘Aunt’ all his life. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs.
“Bulldogs,” Hermione mouthed, thinking. While she knew that bulldogs were okay around children, there was a chance that the ones by this Marge person weren't, especially if Marge was anything like Harry's uncle, and didn't like anyone outside of the family, as well as anyone strange and abnormal – Harry being a prime example. And, if this Marge didn't like Harry all that much... Hermione's lips pressed together as she thought about what might have happened if Harry was around any of those dogs.
She didn’t often stay in Privet Drive, because she couldn’t bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in Harry’s mind.
Luna's eyes narrowed.
At Dudley’s fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him beating Dudley at musical statues.
“The fact that he had help in cheating means that Harry is the winner of that game,” Luna said. “Even if he had to be out because of what this Marge did.”
A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerised robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry.
“Someone needs to give Dudley dog biscuits,” Hermione muttered.
On her last visit, the year before Harry had started at Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden on the paw of her favourite dog.
“That probably didn't make him happy,” Cedric said.
Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight.
“Now, that's not only an overreaction from the dog, but that's horrible of this Marge,” Hermione said. “I certainly hope that, whatever this mistake that she's going to make in this chapter, it's something that's going to teach her manners.”
“I doubt that'll happen,” Harry said. “If she hasn't learned them yet, then she'll probably never learn them without the help of magic, and I don't think she'll be allowed to keep her memory if that happened.”
“She wouldn't,” Cedric said. “She's not the immediate family, after all. They're the only ones who are allowed to know about if there is a witch or wizard in a family.”
“You mean that no one else in a person's family can know,” Hermione said, frowning. “That doesn't seem really fair. Plus, what if I had a cousin who was also magical, but went to a different school. Does that mean that they still wouldn't be allowed to know?”
“If you knew for a fact that your cousin was a witch, you could probably tell them that your one as well, but the only way to know that is if you went to the same school as they did,” Cedric said. “That, or if you ran into them later in life, on the wizarding side, and not the Muggle one.”
“So, basically, I'd have to hide it from most of my family,” Hermione said unhappily. “That would most likely cause problems, you know? I mean, unable to tell them this about me would be a secret that could make it hard to relate to them. I'd probably not want to visit a whole lot, just so I don't have to lie to them.”
“Do you think you tell your parents everything that happened during the last two years?” Harry asked.
“No,” Hermione said immediately. “If they knew about the troll and basilisk, they would have pulled me out immediately, and I don't want that.”
Harry nodded his head, thinking about something. Hermione notice his look, and thought about asking what it was that he was thinking, but decided to continue reading. He'd tell them what he was thinking when he was ready.
The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley’s eyes.
“I think we need to do something that would bring tears of pain and humiliation to him instead,” Luna growled.
“Agreed,” Hermione said.
“Marge’ll be here for a week,” Uncle Vernon snarled,
“I guess he was never taught how to talk to someone properly,” Hermione said.
“and while we’re on the subject,” he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry, “we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her.”
“How about, you just sign Harry's form, and then let him go over to someone else's house while your sister is there,” Hermione said.
“But where would he go?” Cedric asked. “The only ones he's close to are you and Ron.”
“I'm going to have to make sure I have more friends other than them,” Harry said. “While I definitely like being your friend, there's no reason why I shouldn't have others as well.”
“And I like you being my friend,” Hermione said. “But your right. You do need other friends other than me and Ron.”
Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television.
Watching Harry being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley’s favourite form of entertainment.
Hermione narrowed her eyes.
“I think watching you being taught actual manners would be the best form of entertainment for me,” Hermione said. She sincerely hoped that there was some way to get the Dursleys locked up for what they'd done to Harry. Then, with them locked up, perhaps someone might be able to save Dudley. Of course, it would be a long, probably painful for him, process. Hermione was barely able to keep a smile from showing at that thought.
“Firstly,” growled Uncle Vernon, “you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head when you’re talking to Marge.”
“Why bother?” Cedric said. “If she doesn't deserve it, he shouldn't have to do so.”
“What do you think would happen if I didn't?” Harry asked him. His eyes narrowed at the book as if to glare at the Dursleys. He knew exactly what Harry was saying.
“All right,” said Harry bitterly, “if she does when she’s talking to me.”
“You're growing a backbone,” Luna said. “Nice.”
“I might say that, but I won't follow it,” Harry said. “I know that for a fact.”
“Secondly,” said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry’s reply,
“He probably didn't. That, or he thought he imagined it,” Harry said. “I mean, I don't exactly talk back to him a lot.”
“as Marge doesn’t know anything about your abnormality,”
“He's not the one in that house whose abnormal,” Hermione said.
“I don’t want any – any funny stuff while she’s here. You behave yourself, got me?”
“I will if she does,” said Harry through gritted teeth.
“He most likely didn't hear that one, either,” Harry said.
“And thirdly,” said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face,
“I think he's suspecting that I'll protest whatever is next,” Harry said. “Which tells me that it's going to be something that I'm not going to be extremely happy about learning.”
“we’ve told Marge you attend St. Brutus’s Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys.”
“What?” Harry yelled. Cedric noticed that he was completely right about not being happy about learning this.
“He says your a criminal,” Luna said, looking surprised.
“How could anyone believe that,” Hermione said. “I mean, I don't think that school even exists. Why would they have a school for incurably criminal boys if they're incurable?”
“Well, he couldn't exactly say I go to a good school, now can he?” Harry said, now over his surprise. He should have already expected something like this, though he didn't want to believe that they would go this far. Hermione look angry for a moment, then it melted away as a thought occurred to her, and a smile replaced it.
“What are you smiling at?” Luna asked.
“Well, what would happen should a young female classmate of Harry's was to drop by for a visit, and happened to hear about him supposedly being at that school?” Hermione asked innocently. That got there attention, and they all began to start to smile themselves.
“They couldn't say that he goes there if it's shown that he has a female classmate,” she continued. “And, while this is mostly hopeful thinking, if they know that the Dursleys lied about that, then, hopefully, they might wonder what else might be a lie. I'm not really holding out hope on that as much, though. I don't know exactly what was said about you, after all, so, for all I know, what it was might have to do with your accidental magic incidents.”
“No, they were saying things before that,” Harry said. “Though, you are right. It's not worth holding out hope that they'll wonder a whole lot on the subject. Then again, considering that the lot of them are like the Dursleys, they just might, because it would be gossip and tarnish the Dursleys' reputation on Privet Drive.”
“What?” Harry yelled.
“Apparently book me can't believe they'd go that far, either,” Harry said.
“It seems that they can still surprise you just as much as they can us,” Hermione said. “And you know them better than we do.”
“Unfortunately,” Harry said.
“And you’ll be sticking to that story, boy, or there’ll be trouble,” spat Uncle Vernon.
“I really dislike your uncle,” Hermione said.
“So do I,” Harry said.
“I'd be surprised if you could find a person in Hogwarts who doesn't dislike him,” Cedric said.
“Yeah, because even if they like the way he treats you, the fact that he's a Muggle would keep him from actually getting any support from any Slytherins who hate you,” Luna said.
“True,” Harry said. “I think Malfoy would die if he knew that he shared the same opinion with a Muggle.”
“Have you noticed that your family is a lot like the pure-blood fanatics,” Hermione said. “I mean, they have a lot of the same ideas and all, just a different point of view towards magic.”
“You mean the fact that my aunt and uncle would love it if all witches and wizards fell dead, and the pure-blood fanatics would love it if all Muggles – and Muggleborns, since they don't count them as actual witches and wizards – did the same thing,” Harry said. “Yeah, I have.”
Harry sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a week-long visit – it was the worst birthday present the Dursleys had ever given him, including that pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks.
“I don't think it's a present,” Luna said. “You don't matter to them, therefore they don't care about your birthday either.”
“Of course, it could be possible that Harry is right. I mean, why have her come then, instead of earlier?” Hermione said. “I wouldn't be surprised if Dudley's school gets out sooner than Hogwarts does, so that does mean that there was some time for them to be together than without you. I mean, I'm sure they would like it a whole lot more, wouldn't they?”
“Aunt Marge loves comparing Dudley and me, along with criticising me,” Harry said. “Since it's another of Dudley's favorite things to watch as well, and my aunt and uncle would never deny their dear Dudley one of his favorite activities, nor would they deny Aunt Marge one of her favorite activities either...”
Hermione pursed her lips together, understand exactly what Harry was saying.
“Well, Petunia,” said Uncle Vernon, getting heavily to his feet, “I’ll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?”
“He won't go,” Harry said. “Since threatening Harry time is done, he'll want to return to the television and his food.”
“No,” said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Harry.
“Told you,” Harry said.
“No one was arguing,” Hermione said.
“Duddy’s got to make himself smart for his auntie,” said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley’s thick blond hair.
“Don't think he'll ever be able to achieve that,” Luna said.
“Mummy’s bought him a lovely new bow-tie.”
“I doubt it'll be noticeable, not without carefully looking,” Hermione said.
Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.
“See you in a bit, then,” he said, and he left the kitchen.
Harry, who had been sitting in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea. Abandoning his toast, he got quickly to his feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door.
“I wonder what you're thinking of,” Hermione said.
“Probably something that'll help me get my form signed,” Harry said.
“You plan on blackmailing him somehow,” Hermione said.
“Most likely,” Harry said.
Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat.
“I’m not taking you,” he snarled, as he turned to see Harry watching him.
“I wouldn't want to go,” Harry said.
“Like I wanted to come,” said Harry coldly. “I want to ask you something.”
Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously.
“He probably knows that, because he won't grant you anything, and you know that well, you have something up you're sleeve,” Cedric said.
“Third-years at Hog – at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes,” said Harry.
“So?” snapped Uncle Vernon, taking his car keys from a hook next to the door.
“He's pretty much saying he's not going to sign it,” Hermione said.
“I need you to sign the permission form,” said Harry in a rush.
“And why should I do that?” sneered Uncle Vernon.
“Ah, that's what I'm doing,” Harry said, realizing what his plan was. Luna looked at him, about to ask what it was that he was doing, but Hermione quickly read the next part, since it answered the question Luna was about to ask.
“Well,” said Harry, choosing his words carefully, “it’ll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge I go to that St. Whatsits ...”
“Oh,” Luna said, realizing what he was about to do. “You plan on basically saying that you'll let something out unless he says he'll sign the form.”
“Yup,” Harry said.
“Why didn't you go to your aunt instead?” Hermione said. “I mean, you would probably be able to get it signed straight away – in fact, you could say that you'd leave the house for the rest of the summer if she does. I'm sure she'd love that.”
“True,” Harry said. “I guess I just didn't think of that. Plus, exactly where would I go. You and Ron are out of the country, and I don't have anyone to go to on Privet Drive. Plus, I can't go very far pulling my trunk – I'd get tired quickly. And I couldn't get on a Muggle transport with it anyway, even if I had the money.”
“You could take the Knight Bus,” Cedric said. “Wizarding transport for those who need to get from one place to another, and don't have access to the Floo or don't want to, or can't, Apparate. They can go pretty much everywhere, save anything underwater. I also think you would have to keep it in Great Britain as well, but I could be wrong.”
“Well, book me doesn't know about it, so it doesn't do me too much good,” Harry said.
“True,” Cedric said.
“St. Brutus’s Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys!”
“Basically, the place he should be sending Dudley to,” Hermione said.
bellowed Uncle Vernon, and Harry was pleased to hear a definite note of panic in Uncle Vernon’s voice.
“That means that it very likely to work,” Harry said.
“Exactly,” said Harry, looking calmly up into Uncle Vernon’s large, purple face.
“So long as I keep calm, chances are, he will agree,” Harry said.
“Yeah, but will he sign beforehand, or after,” Cedric said. “And, if he says he'll sign after, then what's to stop him from refusing to do so.”
“So, basically, I should make another compromise that'll let me get my paper signed, but will also show him that I intend to keep my word,” Harry said. Cedric nodded.
“I wouldn't say to do that, but I have the feeling that you're uncle won't hold up to his bargain,” Cedric said.
“You should do what Cedric said, if you have to do it like this,” Hermione said. “Especially since I get the feeling that you'll end up losing your temper at Marge before it gets signed. At least, even if you are not on your best behaviour, you still have the signed slip.”
“It’s a lot to remember. I’ll have to make it sound convincing, won’t I? What if I accidentally let something slip?”
“You wouldn't do it on accident,” Luna said.
“True,” Harry said. “I'm sure it's been drilled into my head that Muggles are not supposed to know about magic.”
“You’ll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won’t you?” roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry with his fist raised. But Harry stood his ground.
“That won't make her forget what I tell her, though,” Harry said.
“Knocking the stuffing out of me won’t make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her,” he said grimly.
Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce.
“He realizes that what you just said is more or less true,” Hermione said.
“And here is the perfect time to start speaking, because I have him off balance,” Harry said.
“But if you sign my permission form,” Harry went on quickly, “I swear I’ll remember where I’m supposed to go to school, and I’ll act like a Mug – like I’m normal and everything.”
“Good, I didn't just ruin it,” Harry said. At the curious looks that Luna and Cedric were giving him, he added, “If I had said Muggle, then he'd probably believe that I wouldn't keep up my end of the bargain.”
“Please,” Hermione said. “Out of all of the people there, your the only one who actually is normal there. You're just able to do something that they can't.”
Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple.
“He can't change his face to actually show that he's thinking about it,” Harry said. “It would mean using his tiny brain to do more than one thing at a time.”
“Right,” he snapped finally.
“He just can't talk in a nice voice towards you, can he?” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
“I shall monitor your behaviour carefully during Marge’s visit. If, at the end of it, you’ve toed the line and kept to the story, I’ll sign your ruddy form.”
“I do hope that, if I did manage to get through the week without problem, that he will honour his bargain,” Harry said. He was getting a bad feeling that his chances weren't completely good, but he was at least hopeful that his uncle wouldn't be unhonourable, even if it was to him.
He wheeled around, pulled open the front door and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out.
“I think he needs to be a little more careful with the door,” Harry said.
Harry didn’t return to the kitchen. He went back upstairs to his bedroom.
“I should start acting like a real Muggle now,” Harry said, frowning.
“Do you think you'll be able to work on your homework as well?” Hermione asked.
“Hopefully. I mean, I don't see Aunt Marge being up during the night when I do it,” Harry said. “Of course, I also have some time before it's due, so I can afford to put it off this week, so long as I don't do that for any of the others. Of course, it would also help me if I knew what I'd already done, and what was left to do.”
“True,” Hermione said, thinking. “Well, I think we can safely assume that neither Defense nor Astronomy gave homework out, so that's two things off the list, which leaves you with five subjects to do.”
“Herbology is usually easier than the others, because Professor Sprout knows that you can't always get to a plant to know it all that well, so it's usually a review. At least, it has been for me these past two summers,” Cedric said.
“We already know what Professors Binns and Snapes homework is,” Luna said.
“So that leave two unknown assignments,” Hermione said.
“I'd say what I had, but I already know that Snape's was different, and it's possible that McGonagall's and Flitwick's is different as well,” Cedric said. “All I can say is that whatever it is will probably have to do with things you've already learned, since they don't exactly like to have you learning about something they haven't taught yet, plus, some of what they'll be teaching for the next year can't be found in the books you already have.”
“Of course, I get the feeling that Snape doesn't actually care about this,” Hermione said. Cedric shook his head. “It doesn't seem that way. But then, he's a bastard, so...”
“Cedric,” Hermione said, a warning look in her eye.
“You can't say it's not true, especially with how he acts towards Harry,” Cedric said. “And I'm not going to change my opinion because you don't like the word I used.”
“I don't doubt that,” Hermione said. “And I do agree. I think its a automatic response thing, since my mother does it whenever my father lets out a word I'm not supposed to hear. I've gotten used to doing it myself as well, for the few times Dad does it when Mum's not there.”
"This is the first time you've actually done that in a while, though," Harry pointed out.
"I guess I just got so into the story that I probably didn't hear them," Hermione said.
If he was going to act like a real Muggle, he’d better start now. Slowly and sadly he gathered up all his presents and his birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with his homework.
“Do you think that she'll go in there?” Hermione asked.
“I have the feeling that I don't want any of them to see it, and, because Aunt Marge prefers me where she can see me to do her compare and criticisms, Dudley would most likely come and get me, because, as I mentioned before, he loves it when I'm picked on,” Harry said. “And, if he did come in, I can guarantee that he would make a fuss about it.”
“You might want to make sure the Sneakoscope is placed somewhere that it can't make a lot of sound,” Cedric said. “Since none of your family is really all that trustworthy, it might go off around them if they entered the room; also, since it didn't go off when they woke up, I think it can be safe to say that the range on that one isn't very far, which is a good thing, because it means that it doesn't have a large range that would pick up every little thing possible.”
“Do you think it would really work around his relatives?” Hermione said. “I mean, I can't see the people who make that thinking Muggles can do anything worth being warned about, since the wizarding world doesn't seem to have a high opinion of Muggles. Even you said that.”
“True,” Cedric said. “And I don't know. All I know is that it only goes off around an untrustworthy person, and that's it.”
“Ah,” Hermione said.
Then he went to Hedwig’s cage.
“Your going to send her away,” Hermione said.
“I'm going to have to in order to look more Muggle,” Harry said.
Errol seemed to have recovered;
“He's gotten some rest, so that would make sense,” Luna said.
he and Hedwig were both asleep, heads under their wings. Harry sighed, then poked them both awake.
“You would probably be able to get away with leaving them there until midnight, you know,” Hermione said. “This way your not quite miserable the entire day. Also, it would mean that they could get more sleep, and leave less chance of either of them being seen.”
“I probably don't actually think about that,” Harry said. “Besides, if I procrastinated, I'd probably not want her to leave at all.”
“Hedwig,” he said gloomily, “you’re going to have to clear off for a week.”
“Harry, you shouldn't be making her feel unwanted,” Luna said. “You should be nicer.”
“Go with Errol, Ron’ll look after you. I’ll write him a note, explaining. And don’t look at me like that” – Hedwig’s large amber eyes were reproachful, “it’s not my fault. It’s the only way I’ll be allowed to visit Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione.”
“You shouldn't assume we're automatically going to be given permission,” Hermione said. “While it's unlikely, my parents, as well as the Weasleys, could decide not to allow us to go.”
“True,” Harry said, shrugging. “But I don't see your parents not letting you go, nor do I see Ron's doing that either.”
Ten minutes later, Errol and Hedwig (who had a note to Ron bound to her leg) soared out of the window and out of sight. Harry, now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the empty cage away inside the wardrobe.
“I wonder how long I took doing that,” Harry said.
But Harry didn’t have long to brood.
“Well, how far from your house is the train station?” Hermione said.
“Okay, so I procrastinated as much as possible,” Harry said.
“That, or time just seemed to go by to fast for you to enjoy your last free time before your uncle's sister is there,” Hermione said.
In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Harry to come down and get ready to welcome their guest.
“I'd rather not,” Harry said.
“Do something about your hair!” Aunt Petunia snapped as he reached the hall.
“One, I haven't been able to tame my hair yet, so I don't know what makes her think that I suddenly will now; and two, Aunt Marge loves to criticise me, and having messy hair will just give her something to criticise me about, thus making her happy,” Harry said. “You would think that Aunt Petunia would realize that I can't tame my hair.”
Harry couldn’t see the point of trying to make his hair lie flat. Aunt Marge loved criticising him, so the untidier he looked, the happier she would be.
All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon’s car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors, and footsteps on the garden path.
“They've arrived,” Harry said gloomily.
“Get the door!” Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry.
“Get it yourself,” Hermione hissed.
A feeling of great gloom in his stomach, Harry pulled the door open.
On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon; large, beefy and purple-faced, she even had a moustache, though not as bushy as his.
“That's a woman?" Cedric asked in disbelief. Harry began laughing at the look on his face.
“Yes, she's female,” Harry said.
“You sure?” Cedric said.
“As sure as I will ever be on the subject,” Harry said. He had no desire to see anything that would prove or disprove her gender.
In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.
“Ripper,” Harry said.
“How do you know that?” Luna asked.
“She always brings Ripper with her.” Harry said. “Says he pines for her if he's away from her to long.”
“I take it that Ripper is...” Hermione started.
“The one who chased me up the tree,” Harry finished. “Yeah.”
“I don't think I like that dog,” Luna said. “And I usually like all animals, too.”
“Where’s my Dudders?” roared Aunt Marge. “Where’s my neffy poo?”
“I wonder just how many names your cousin has,” Hermione said.
“He's got a few from Aunt Petunia, and one each from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge,” Harry said.
Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow-tie just visible under his many chins. Aunt Marge thrust the suitcase into Harry’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug and planted a large kiss on his cheek.
“He gets paid to do that, doesn't he?” Hermione asked. Harry nodded his head. “Figures.”
“How did you figure that out, though?” Harry asked.
“I can't see your cousin willingly moving from the television or the kitchen without a reason. Being given money to buy whatever he wants is a reason,” Hermione said.
Harry knew perfectly well that Dudley only put up with Aunt Marge’s hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist.
“Do you think they would notice if you took his money?” Hermione asked.
“Possibly not, if I was careful about it,” Harry said. “Why?”
“Well, while I think stealing is wrong, you need it more than he does,” Hermione said. “You need to be able to eat more, not your cousin, and that money could be used to get you some food. I wouldn't say steal all of it, but, in a time like this, it would be better to have some that you actually get a good meal. Plus, if you think about it, they do owe you quite a bit.”
Her last words brought the fact that they were being paid quite a bit of money to take car of Harry, money that they had, and most likely, in these books, were continuing to misuse it, as they really hadn't seen a case where Harry was taken care of.
“Petunia!” shouted Aunt Marge, striding past Harry as though he was a hat-stand. Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunia’s bony cheekbone.
“Ow, that would probably hurt,” Luna said.
Uncle Vernon now came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door.
“Only he could be smiling at seeing that...person,” Cedric said, as most of him was screaming that Marge wasn't female.
“Tea, Marge?” he said. “And what will Ripper take?”
“Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer,” said Aunt Marge,
“Okay, I can understand loving your dog and feeding them from your plate, but letting them drink from the same saucer as you are? That's just a little bit too much,” Hermione said. “Especially if you plan on continuing to drink from it yourself as well.”
as they all trooped into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the hall with the suitcase.
“I will certainly enjoy myself, then,” Harry said. “And take as long as I can possibly take in getting back downstairs.”
“Stop by your room on the way back down,” Hermione said. “Write a few letters while your at it. That should take up some of your time well enough.”
“True, and I don't think Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia would comment on my absence,” Harry said. “But, if she should ask about me, they could think that I was being rude if I took too long.”
“True,” Hermione said.
But Harry wasn’t complaining; any excuse not to be with Aunt Marge was fine by him, so he began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom, taking as long as he could.
“We already know that information,” Cedric couldn't help but saying.
By the time he got back to the kitchen, Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. Harry saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. Aunt Petunia hated animals.
“I think it's the only thing that she hates more than me,” Harry said. “In fact, whenever Aunt Marge comes over, she tends to stay as far away from them as she can. She actually nice to me during these time, in fact. Well, as nice to me as she can be while still hating me.”
“Who’s looking after the other dogs, Marge?” Uncle Vernon asked.
“Why does he always ask that?” Harry said. “She always has the same guy watch them. At least, that I've heard.”
“He’s retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn’t leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he’s away from me.”
“He doesn't pine,” Harry said. “He makes a mess around the house. And I know because the one and only time he was ever left alone at the house, he did exactly that. That was the only time Aunt Petunia did not blame me for anything bad – of course, the fact that I was at Mrs. Figg might also have something to do with that. I do know that she surprised my uncle with her demand that Ripper never be left there without Aunt Marge again.”
Ripper began to growl again as Harry sat down. This directed Aunt Marge’s attention to Harry for the first time.
“Damn dog,” Cedric said under his breath. Harry could have been left alone longer if it wasn't for it.
“So!” she barked.
“Seems appropriate. I mean, she is around dogs and bitches a lot,” Hermione said. Cedric looked at her.
“I thought you didn't like cursing,” he said.
“I don't. A bitch the proper term for a female dog, though,” she answered.
“Oh,” he said.
“I take it you didn't know that,” she said. He shook his head.
“We do know of dogs, but there are not many of them in the wizarding world, and the logistics for them are not well known at all,” Cedric explained. “There might be some people who know, outside of the Muggleborns, but, other than that, it's not well known.”
“Still here, are you?”
“Yes,” said Harry.
“Don’t you say 'yes' in that ungrateful tone,” Aunt Marge growled. “It’s damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you. Wouldn’t have done it myself. You’d have gone straight to an orphanage if you’d been dumped on my doorstep.”
“An orphanage would probably be better than being there,” Harry said.
“And I don't think they were actually given a choice,” Hermione said, remembering how he was left there on the porch with a letter in hand. I wonder what Dumbledore would have done if they had driven to an orphanage and left him there she thought, for she could plainly remember that Dumbledore wanted Harry to be there exactly, no where else; or, rather, to be there over another wizarding home.
Harry was bursting to say that he’d rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but the thought of the Hogsmeade form stopped him. He forced his face into a painful smile.
“I think that I should just do nothing,” Harry said.
“Don’t you smirk at me!” boomed Aunt Marge.
'I'm not smirking,” Harry said. “I'm smiling painfully. There is a difference.”
“I can see you haven’t improved since I last saw you.”
“I don't think what she would considered for Harry to be improved is the same as what others would say,” Hermione said. She was thinking about how Harry had said Marge was always finding things to criticise and how she would also compare Harry to Dudley. Hermione had no trouble knowing that Harry was the one who most often came up short when that happened.
“I hoped school would knock some manners into you.”
“Considering that the ones who need manners are you and the rest of his relatives, I don't see why the school would worry all that much to knock them into Harry,” Luna said.
She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her moustache and said, “Where is it that you send him, again, Vernon?”
“You know, I have to wonder, where did they say you went when you didn't appear at the school you were supposed to go to?” Luna said. That got them all to freeze. That was a good question.
“This probably means that saying I got to St. Brutus's isn't a quickly conjured lie,” Harry said. “In fact, when they weren't able to send me to Stonewall, they probably looked up a school that would fit in with the image they've circulated about me. I mean, they couldn't exactly make it sound as if I go to a good school, now could they?”
“I really wish I had gone there, whether this summer or the one of the previous book,” Hermione said. “It would make it even better, since it was probably circulated around even before you got home from school.”
“This probably means that St. Brutus's isn't a fake school, either,” Harry said.
“Unfortunately,” Hermione said. “Still, for a school with that title, you'd think they'd have a way of checking to see if someone actually went there.”
“St. Brutus’s,” said Uncle Vernon promptly. “It’s a first-rate institution for hopeless cases.”
“Then why bother having it, if a case is considered hopeless,” Cedric said.
“I see,” said Aunt Marge.
“I wonder if she actually believes it or not,” Hermione said.
“Do they use the cane at St. Brutus’s, boy?” she barked across the table.
“She better not be asking that because she thinks you should be caned,” Luna said. Harry looked at her.
“Why else would she be asking, then?” Harry said.
“Er—“
“I should know that saying yes is the best thing,” Harry said, shaking his head at his actions in the book.
Uncle Vernon nodded curty behind Aunt Marge’s back.
“Yes,” said Harry. Then, feeling he might as well do the thing properly, he added, “All the time.”
“That'll appease her,” Harry said.
“That makes it sound as if you get it all the time,” Luna said,
“Which is why it'll appease her,” Harry said. “She didn't ask for no reason, after all, and knowing that they cane the students all the time probably means that I was caned a few times. In fact, I expect her next question to be if I've been caned often myself.”
“Excellent,” said Aunt Marge. “I won’t have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it.”
“I wonder what she'd be saying if Dudley was the one being hit,” Hermione said.
“Hermione, in her mind, there's no reason for her precious Dudley to be hit at all,” Harry said. “After all, Dudley can't do wrong. She'd protest it quite a lot.”
“A good thrashing is what’s needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have you been beaten often?”
“Told you,” Harry said.
“Oh, yeah,” said Harry, “loads of times.”
“You probably shouldn't be so nonchalant about it,” Cedric said. “That's going to look suspicious, and probably make her think that your either lying, or your not being beaten enough.”
“It doesn't really matter, I mean, she'll just find problems about me despite what I do,” Harry said.
Aunt Marge narrowed her eyes.
“I still don’t like your tone, boy,” she said. “If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren’t hitting you hard enough. Petunia, I’d write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this boy’s case.”
“Oh, I'd love to see what my aunt's face looked like being told to write to them,” Harry said. “Especially since I get the feeling that no one at the school would be happy to know that she wants me to be beaten with extreme force.”
“They'd be in definite trouble if it came down to that,” Luna said.
“They already should be,” Hermione said. “And I get the feeling that Dumbledore would just help them out.”
Perhaps Uncle Vernon was worried that Harry might forget their bargain; in any case, he changed the subject abruptly.
“Yeah, that does sound like a good idea, just in case Aunt Marge thinks that there's something strange going on,” Harry said. “And, it gets the focus off of me, so that's a plus.”
“Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?”
“Hopefully, I'll be able to leave the room without problem,” Harry said, having an idea of what it is that Marge would say.
As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Harry caught himself thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her.
“They might hate me, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon leave me alone more often than not,” Harry said. “They prefer me out of their way.”
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Harry to stay out of their way, which Harry was only too happy to do. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, wanted Harry under her eye at all times, so that she could boom out suggestions for his improvement.
“For anything she suggests, you do know you should do the opposite for, right?” Hermione said. Harry nodded.
She delighted in comparing Harry with Dudley, and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents while glaring at Harry, as though daring him to ask why he hadn’t got a present too.
“Horrid woman,” Luna spat.
She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person.
“The only ones who are unsatisfactory are you, your brother, his wife, and their fat pig of a son,” Hermione said.
“You mustn’t blame yourself for the way the boy’s turned out, Vernon,” she said over lunch on the third day. “If there’s something rotten on the inside, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
“So there must be something rotten in the Dursleys,” Cedric said.
Harry tried to concentrate on his food, but his hands shook and his face was starting to burn with anger.
“Uh-oh,” Harry said. He hoped that he was able to keep his temper.
Remember the form, he told himself. Think about Hogsmeade. Don’t say anything. Don’t rise –
“Please don't rise to her bait,” Hermione said.
Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine.
“It’s one of the basic rules of breeding,” she said. “You see it all the time with dogs. If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup –“
“That horrid woman!” Hermione said. “That's a line she should not cross!”
It was clear to everyone in the room what Hermione was talking about, just as clear as the fact that they all were mad about it; as it was quickly becoming a custom when reading about the Dursleys, the tables situated around the room were becoming littered with broken glass. Even the table behind Cedric was like that, though not to the effect of the others, since he had more control over his magic than they did.
The reason for their anger was because of the fact that Marge was talking horribly about someone who she not only never met, but was also dead. It didn't matter that she'd been told bad things about Harry's mother; to talk so callously about her, in front of her son, was a line that should not be crossed. Now, as much as Hermione would love for Harry to go to Hogsmeade, she really would prefer it if Harry lost is temper on this woman. Maybe some accidental magic would make her think before doing what she just did.
At that moment, the wine glass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge spluttered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.
“Thank god we don't have to listen to that woman any more,” Hermione said.
“I really hope that you didn't do that, Harry,” Cedric said. “You might get another warning, and that would definitely cause problems for you.”
“I don't think he did,” Hermione said. “I mean, if he did, he probably would have made the glass hit mostly her.”
“True,” Harry said. “And it's actually not the first time she's done that, either. I know she did it on one of her other visits.”
“Marge!” squealed Aunt Petunia. “Marge, are you all right?”
“I really don't know why she's so surprised,” Harry said. “As I said before, she has broken a glass with her grip. Then again, they can be short minded when it comes to their own faults.”
“Not to worry,” grunted Aunt Marge, mopping her face with her napkin. “Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster’s the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip ...”
“I have the feeling your aunt and uncle are going to be suspicious of you,” Cedric said.
“Doesn't surprise me at all,” Harry said, shrugging. Though, he had to admit, it was a good thing that the glass broke, because he would have most likely done something if it hadn't, and what he would have done would have definitely gotten him into trouble.
But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking at Harry suspiciously, so he decided he’d better skip pudding and escape from the table as soon as he could.
“That is a good idea,” Hermione said.
Outside in the hall, he leant against the wall, breathing deeply. It had been a long time since he’d lost control and made something explode.
“I don't think I've actually ever made anything explode,” Harry said, thinking. “No, don't remember ever doing that.”
“Maybe they just mean your accidental magic in general,” Hermione said.
He couldn’t afford to let it happen again. The Hogsmeade form wasn’t the only thing at stake – if he carried on like that, he’d be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic.
“That can't punish you for accidental magic,” Cedric said. “Plus, you would have already gotten a warning by now if you'd been the one to break the glass.”
Harry was still an underage wizard, and he was forbidden by wizard law to do magic outside school. His record wasn’t exactly clean, either. Only last summer he’d got an official warning which had stated quite clearly that if the Ministry got wind of any more magic in Privet Drive, Harry would face expulsion from Hogwarts.
“You know, that shouldn't even have happened, because you had nothing to do with that,” Hermione said.
He heard the Dursleys leaving the table and hurried upstairs out of the way.
“Hopefully, I won't be needed for the rest of the night,” Harry said, sighing. “I wish I knew what day it was exactly, so I can know when it's time for her to leave.”
“How long did it say that she was staying again?” Cedric asked.
“A week,” Hermione answered, after flipping back a few pages to make sure that she remembered that correctly.
“Okay, so this is the third day...you've got for more days to go,” Cedric said. Harry looked at him, confused.
“It said that this was the third day when it had her start talking,” Cedric explained.
Harry got through the next three days by forcing himself to think about his Handbook of Do-it-Yourself Broomcare whenever Aunt Marge started on him. This worked quite well, though it seemed to give him a glazed look, because Aunt Marge started voicing the opinion that he was mentally subnormal.
“At least I don't have to listen to her all that much,” Harry said. Hermione frowned.
“It's working now, but I get the feeling that she also hasn't said anything about your parents since that day, either,” she said. “Which is probably also keeping you calm.”
“True,” Harry said.
At last, at long last, the final evening of Marge’s stay arrived.
“That sound rather dramatic,” Hermione said.
“It does,” Cedric said.
Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine.
“Oh no,” Hermione said. This felt like a disaster in the making; that, and the fact that, since it was Marge's last day and the chapter title suggested something big was going to happen, told Hermione that something was going to happen on this day. And Harry was so close to getting his form signed, too.
“I wonder what it is that's going to happen soon,” Cedric said.
“I have to wonder what the trigger is going to be,” Luna said.
“I think it's safe to say we already know what it is,” Hermione said, looking at Harry, who nodded in agreement, knowing what it was that she wasn't saying.
“My parents,” Harry said. “She's going to attack my parents again. That's the only thing that's going to really keep me from not getting upset at her again.”
“The questions is, when,” Hermione said.
They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Harry’s faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored them all with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.
“Wine and Brandy,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “She's definitely going to have a loose tongue.”
“Can I tempt you, Marge?”
Aunt Marge had already had rather a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red.
“Just a small one, then,” she chuckled. “A bit more than that ... and a bit more ... that’s the boy.”
“She probably has a full cup, then,” Harry said, shaking his head.
Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie.
“And who knows how much he ate of the dinner itself beforehand,” Hermione said.
Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Harry really wanted to disappear into his bedroom, but he met Uncle Vernon’s angry little eyes and knew he would have to sit it out.
“Do you have a feeling that he wants something to happen?” Luna said. “I mean, there really isn't a reason for Harry to stay there.”
“No, there isn't,” Hermione said. “If he's not letting you go, I get the feeling that you did very well at acting as normal as possible.” She said the word 'normal' with such sarcasm that it was clear that she didn't think what the Dursleys idea of normal was right.
“Aah,” said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. “Excellent nosh, Petunia. It’s normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after ...”
“I wonder exactly how much of the dinner she ate,” Harry said.
“I wonder how much you got to eat,” Cedric said. “Who cares how much she got to eat. How much do you think you got to eat?”
Harry didn't have an answer for him, at least, not one he was willing to give. He knew that, even if he got some of the food, it was the smallest portion possible.
She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. “Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy,” she went on, winking at Dudley. “You’ll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father.”
“She really needs her eyes checked,” Luna said. “Dudley is anything but proper-sized.”
“Apparently the entire Dursley family is crazy,” Hermione said.
“I think we already knew that, though,” Luna said.
“And yet, they can still surprise us, though,” Hermione said.
“Yes, I’ll have a spot more brandy, Vernon ...”
“Now, this one here –“
“My turn,” Harry said with false brightness.
She jerked her head at Harry, who felt his stomach clench. The Handbook, he thought quickly.
“Not going to work for long,” Harry said.
“This one’s got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred.”
“Harry is the only person in that room who actually deserves to live,” Luna said. “And it's horrible that you would have a dog killed because it's smaller than the others.”
“They aren't killed,” Harry said. “We did go visit her once, and I met Mr. Fubster. I think he actually liked me quite a bit, because he was actually nice to me when I was left with him – I didn't tell anyone, but he treated me well, better than Mrs. Figg ever did. I also found out that he actually takes the dogs that Aunt Marge tells him to drown, and sells them to other families, after raising them so they wouldn't be much work to take care of.”
“Wait, he was nice to you?” Hermione said, smiling. “That's good to know. But, and I'm sorry I have to ask this, why? I mean, I have no doubt that Marge spouts off about you a lot, so why was he willing to be nice to you?”
“It's okay, I understand why your asking,” Harry said. “Honestly, I was wary of him as well, until I learned a bit more about him. I guess he'd been in a place like I was, and, knowing what it was like to be judged based on what other people said, so he decided to be different than that. He prefers to observe, and see how a person is before making a decision about them. And he's pretty good at it, too, from what I could see. He might act like a friend to Aunt Marge, but he doesn't like her. The only reason he acts like he does is because he doesn't want the dogs to suffer all that much. In truth, I'd always hoped to visit again, because I'd hoped to see him again. That's how nice he was; I didn't care about not going wherever the Dursleys were going, because it was nice being at his house. I didn't even feel a little bit envious of them.”
Harry was trying to remember page twelve of his book: A Charm to Cure Reluctant Reversers.
“It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I’m saying nothing against your family, Petunia” – she patted Aunt Petunia’s bony hand with her shovellike one, “but your sister was a bad egg.”
“I think its the other way around,” Hermione said. “I mean, we know that their parents were proud of your mother, so that sounds like they were on her side. It was just your aunt who wasn't. And, while it probably hurt them, I'm sure that your grandparents weren't the same with her because if it, through no fault of their own. I mean, she probably got mad and went off on them because of their support to your mother. Which would make her the bad egg.”
“That does sound about right,” Harry said. “It would explain why they talk about Uncle Vernon's parents, but I've never heard anything about Aunt Petunia's and my mother's parents until we read the first book.”
“Does Marge know this?” Cedric asked. Harry shrugged.
“I've never heard her sound interested in Aunt Petunia's family, other than when it came to my mother,” Harry said. “Come to think of it, this is actually the first visit where she's crossed the line and mentioned my mother a lot.”
“They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here’s the result right in front of us.”
“I wonder what she would do if she knew that your father, and therefore you, was a Lord,” Cedric said.
“I'm a Lord?” Harry said.
“Well, not yet, since your still too young, but yes, when you take up the mantle of your House, you will be called Lord Potter,” Cedric said. “It's nothing, really. It's just what you call the heads of Houses like yours, the really old Houses. I don't know if there is something else to that or not, though.”
Harry's eyes were wide with the information download he'd just received.
Harry was staring at his plate, a funny ringing in his ears. Grasp your broom firmly by the tail, he thought. But he couldn’t remember what came next. Aunt Marge’s voice seemed to be boring into him like one of Uncle Vernon’s drills.
“Figures that it wouldn't work well when it came to your parents,” Hermione muttered.
“This Potter,” said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, “you never told me what he did?”
“He was an auror, I believe,” Cedric said, adding, “Someone who goes after criminals,” when he saw the blank looks on Harry's and Hermione's faces.
“Oh, like a policeman, but for the magicals,” Hermione said.
“Yeah, like that,” Cedric said. Since Hermione was saying that an auror was like a policeman, then he figured that a policeman was a Muggle auror.
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.
“They've never thought about that,” Harry said.
“And, of course, they will have to say something that fits in with everything else they've said about them,” Hermione said furiously
“Why did they never think that someone would ask about that before?” Cedric asked.
“Probably because of the way they spin how they died. I wouldn't be surprised if they make is suggested that they were drunk when they died,” Hermione said. “Let people make their own conclusions after that.”
“It sounds as if it worked well up until now,” Luna said.
“He – didn’t work,” said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Harry.
“I think he knows that I won't care for that, but I also can't say anything,” Harry said.
“I wonder if he has another reason for looking at you like that,” Hermione said. “I mean, as mentioned before, they only said how they died, which, while wrong, wasn't horrible and simply a way of saying how they died with adding more questions and eluding saying anything about the wizarding world at the same time. This is probably the first time they've actually said something bad about them to someone else.”
“Unemployed.”
“Didn't need to be employed, actually,” Cedric said. “Your family is a bit like the Malfoys money wise – they don't have to work, even though he still did.”
“As I expected!” said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. “A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who –“
“That's going to make me snap,” Harry said. He was shaking with barely surpressed anger at the moment.
“He was not,” said Harry suddenly. The table went very quiet. Harry was shaking all over. He had never felt so angry in his life.
I probably feel the same in the book that I do right now Harry thought.
“MORE BRANDY!” yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white.
“I think he's realizing the trouble that's about to come,” Hermione said.
He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge’s glass. “You, boy,” he snarled at Harry. “Go to bed, go on –“
“Aunt Marge probably won't let me do that,” Harry said, still shaking. Luna eyes him, wondering exactly when he'd explode, and how big it would be when it happened, if it did at all.
“No, Vernon,” hiccoughed Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry’s. “Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect) –“
“They didn’t die in a car crash!” said Harry, who found himself on his feet.
“They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!”
“The Dursleys are anything but decent,” Harry said. The knick-knacks on the table behind him began to crack, millions of cracks that branched out like little spiderwebs, ready to create as many tiny pieces of glass as possible.
screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury. “You are an insolent, ungrateful little –“
A tinkling sound came from all around them as several knick-knacks on each table broke. Luna looked behind them towards Harry's table, expecting to see everything on it shatter sometime soon. She had to admit, Harry was doing pretty good at controlling himself so far, but she had the feeling it wasn't going to last much longer, unless something surprising happened.
But Aunt Marge suddenly stopped speaking. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger – but the swelling didn’t stop. Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech. Next second, several buttons burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls – she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami …
There was absolute silence for a moment, then, Luna let out a laugh, which broke the dam on the others. The room was filled with that laughter for several minutes. Harry calmed down from his anger. This was just what Marge deserved for what she was saying about his parents, and the only thing he could think of, other than that, was that he wished that he was there himself. He honestly didn't even care that he'd lost any chance of his relative signing the form for Hogsmeade; at least it was a good reason for it not to have been signed.
Once Hermione had calmed down enough, she began to read again.
“MARGE!” yelled Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia together, as Aunt Marge’s whole body began to rise off her chair towards the ceiling.
There was some more sniggering at that.
She was entirely round, now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises.
“I really hope that it's take a while before she's put back right again,” Cedric said, chuckling.
“So do I,” Harry said.
Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly.
“NOOOOOOO!”
Uncle Vernon seized one of Marge’s feet and tried to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself.
“Wow, I must've made her extremely light if she's able to actually lift him with her,” Harry said.
Next second, Ripper had leapt forward and sunk his teeth into Uncle Vernon’s leg.
“And I do believe that it's time I get myself out of there,” Harry said.
Harry tore from the dining room before anyone could stop him, heading for the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard door burst magically open as he reached it. In seconds, he had heaved his trunk to the front door.
“I wonder how long it'll be before they realize what I'm doing,” Harry said.
He sprinted upstairs and threw himself under the bed, wrenched up the loose floorboard and grabbed the pillowcase full of his books and birthday presents. He wriggled out, seized Hedwig’s empty cage and dashed back downstairs to his trunk, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters.
“COME BACK IN HERE!” he bellowed. “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!”
“She deserved what she got,” Hermione said.
But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand and pointed it at Uncle Vernon.
“I think you could say that this was an emergency,” Cedric said. “I mean, he did seem about to try and attack you.”
“She deserved it,” Harry said, breathing very fast. “She deserved what she got. You keep away from me.”
He fumbled behind him for the catch on the door.
“I’m going,” Harry said. “I’ve had enough.”
“Where are you going to go?” Hermione said, paling as she realized that, while it was a good think for him to leave the Dursleys, he didn't have anywhere to go, or anyway to get there. She'd love to say that he could go to her house, but she wasn't there at the moment.
“I don't know,” Harry said. “Hopefully, once I'm thinking, I'll be able to figure something out.”
And next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him, Hedwig’s cage under his arm.
“That's the end of the chapter,” Hermione said, handing the book over to Cedric.