Title: Proven Innocent
Author: SassySarcasm
Rating: T
Pairings: Trio-friendship
Warnings: Language, Violence
Summary: Harry is finally fed up with the school turning on him every other year and takes drastic measures to ensure that everyone knows what REALLY happened, enter Hermione and her knowledge of old magic and who knows what can happen.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: Well, here is Chapter 3! After all the positive review I got from the prologue and Ch.1 I couldn't resist putting this out earlier than originally planned! Thanks for all the amazing reviews!
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"A friendship can weather most things and thrive in thin soil; but it needs a little mulch of letters and phone calls and small, silly presents every so often – just to save it from drying out completely."
-Pam Brown
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"I'll read next," Professor McGonagall volunteered, accepting the book when it was passed to her.
She took a moment to adjust her glasses before opening the book to the page Dumbledore had marked for her and began to read…
Chapter two: Aunt Marge's Big Mistake
Ron looked up from where he'd been staring at the table, "Is this when…?" he asked, remembering what Harry had told him about his aunt.
Unable to stop himself Harry burst out laughing, "Yeah, this is it."
Hermione huffed, trying to look disapproving, but even she couldn't keep a slight smile off her face.
Everyone else exchanged looks, wondering what they were talking about, but Harry just motioned for them to keep reading. It was clear he had no intention of telling them.
Harry went down to breakfast the 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.
"Wow, your cousin is really lazy, Harry." Dean told him, staring at the book in disbelief, "And your aunt and uncle are making it worse!"
Harry just shrugged; this was nothing new to him after all.
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.
"They can't see that that's not healthy?" Madame Pomfrey wondered aloud.
Even knowing she had meant it rhetorically Harry answered, "Nope." He told her, popping the 'p'.
Harry sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing Harry happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room,
"Zey are 'orrible!" One of the Beauxbatons students exclaimed, sounding aghast.
But Harry was far too used to this to care. He helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the reported 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 hot line had been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately."
Harry smiled at the mention of his godfather, this was the first time he'd heard of the man, it was just unfortunate that this was how he first heard of him.
Moody's eyes narrowed, he happened to know that Black had not actually been a death eater, he had been there when the real traitor had come to the Dark Lord claiming he could him the Potters on a platter.
"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! Look at his hair!"
"Sirius would be horrified," McGonagall commented (interrupting herself) "He always put so much work into his hair…"
"You knew Black, Professor?" Angelina asked, leaning around the large Oliver Wood so she could see their head of house.
McGonagall sighed sadly, remembering how promising he had been. It seemed his darker roots had won out in the end though, "I taught him." She told Angelina finally, her tone making it clear she didn't want to say more.
He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. 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.
Harry laughed, "Can you really blame me?" he asked everyone, shaking his head before continuing, "He really shouldn't have compared our hair anyway! Sirius' was down to his elbows!"
"His hair was pretty bad…" Ron backed Harry up, shuddering as he remembered that night. He still had scars on his ankle from Sirius' bite.
Pleased with how the two were slowly beginning to at least speak to each other without yelling, Hermione smiled; maybe this will be good for them.
The reporter had reappeared. "The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today –"
"Hang on!" barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter. "You didn't tell us where that maniac's escaped from!
Malfoy snorted, "They can't really tell Muggles he came from Azkaban, Muggles wouldn't even know where that was." He commented scornfully.
"Yeah? Well do you know what Alcatraz is?" Hermione challenged, annoyed that he was implying Muggles didn't know anything about their world, when he didn't know anything about the muggle world.
At least most Muggles had the excuse of not knowing about magic, Malfoy and other purebloods had no such excuse.
Malfoy proved her point when he flushed and looked down at the table, unable to answer.
-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. Harry knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbours.
"Some people really don't change," Snape commented, speaking for the first time since this had begun.
Harry looked at him curiously, "Did you know my Aunt, sir?" he asked, making an effort to be polite.
It seemed, however, that Snape was not as inclined towards politeness. He just sneered and motioned for McGonagall to continue reading.
"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?"
Susan Bones, gasped feeling sick to her stomach. "That's horrible!" Her Aunt, Amelia Bones, had raised her from age 1 when her parents died, and had instilled a deep sense of justice into Susan.
"So is going to Azkaban without a trial," Hermione pointed dryly.
Everyone looked confused.
"Vat does zat 'ave do with anyzing?" Fluer asked, looking around as if expecting someone to answer her.
No one did.
"Very true," said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door's runner beans.
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.
"Aunt Marge?" he blurted out. "Sh – she's not coming here, is she?"
"I swear my heart stopped when I heard she was coming." Harry muttered, thinking resentfully of all the times she had set her dogs on him for entertainment.
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. She didn't often stay at 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.
At Dudley's fifth birthday party, Aunt Margo had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him from beating Dudley at musical statues.
"Is the whole family that terrible?" questioned Daphne Greengrass feeling mildly horrified. Every family had a few… unpleasant apples (Hers was her father, a strict man who believed women should be seen not heard) but surely some of them must be at least bearable?
Harry nodded, "The one's I've met are."
A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry.
On her last visit, the year before Harry started at Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden on the tail of her favourite dog. Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight. The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley's eyes.
"I'd like to bring tears to his eyes for very different reasons," Fred snarled, shocking everyone. People often forget that Fred and George weren't the same person, and very few were privy to the fact that Fred was the sadistic one of the two.
Without hesitating George nodded, bringing out a little black notebook and leaned over it. What the twins were writing in there was anyone's guess.
Lee Jordan, the twins' closest friend, glanced warily between the two.
"Marge'll be here for a week," Uncle Vernon snarled, "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."
Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television.
Watching Harry being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley's favourite form of entertainment.
"Are you really related to them, Harry?" Lisa Turpin, one of the quieter Ravenclaws, asked. She didn't know Harry well, but she couldn't see how he had anything in common with these people.
Harry grimaced, "Sadly, yes."
"Firstly," growled Uncle Vernon, "you'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge."
"All right," said Harry bitterly, "if she does when she's talking to me."
"You just couldn't keep quiet could you?" Hermione teased, tugging on a strand of Harry's hair.
"Of course not." He replied, laughing lightly.
Those who heard the exchange snickered.
"Secondly," said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry's reply, "as Marge doesn't know anything about your abnormality, 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.
Katie Bell smiled, "Good on you Harry, don't let them get you down!" she lectured.
Amused, Harry lifted an eyebrow at her, "Sure thing Katie."
"And thirdly," said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, "we've told Marge you attend St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys."
There was a general outcry of anger, "They told her WHAT?" Ginny demanded her Weasley temper flaring up.
All the Weasley boys shrunk back from her, momentarily reminded of their mother.
"They did." Harry confirmed grimly, still uncomfortable with everyone reading about his home life.
"What?" Harry yelled.
"And you'll be sticking to that story, boy, or there'll be trouble," spat Uncle Vernon.
Harry sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a weeklong visit – it was the worst birthday present the Dursleys had ever given him, including that pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks.
"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?"
"No," said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Harry.
"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie," said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley's thick blond hair. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow tie."
The twins pretended to gag with disgust, amusing those who saw, and began dancing around and generally causing a ruckus.
They'd been sitting still for over an hour, reading a book, and they were running out of patience. Neither of them was good at sitting still for long, and thus they were relieving their energy.
No one noticed at first when Wood stood up, it didn't last as he was noticed when he caught the twins by their collars and gave them a rough shake, "Stop goofing around, or I'll find a way to have Quidditch practice just so I can make you run." He threatened, knowing the twins particularly hated when they were made to run laps.
Teachers and students alike watched, shocked, as the twins turned meek as kittens and returned to their seats.
The only ones who didn't look surprised were those on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and that was only because this (or something similar) happened almost every practice.
Now that they were all seated Wood looked up at McGonagall, "Continue please, Professor."
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.
Ron groaned, remembering all the times Harry's plans had gone wrong. His plans only seemed to work when they were made up on the spot, when he was in a life or death situation.
Abandoning his toast, he got quickly to his feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door. Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat.
"I'm not taking you," he snarled as he turned to see Harry watching him.
"Like I wanted to come," said Harry coldly. "I want to ask you something."
Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously.
"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.
"I need you to sign the permission form," said Harry in a rush.
"And why should I do that?" sneered Uncle Vernon.
"Well," said Harry, choosing his words carefully, "it'll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge I go to that St. Whatsits –"
"Is this going where I think its going?" Blaise, another Slytherin, asked curiously. If he didn't know better he would think this was a Slytherin talking, the plan was certainly cunning enough to be one.
If he was right about where Harry was going with this anyway.
"St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, and Harry was pleased to hear a definite note of panic in Uncle Vernon's voice.
"Exactly," said Harry, looking calmly up into Uncle Vernon's large, purple face. "It's a lot to remember. I'll have to make it sound convincing, won't I? What if I accidentally let something slip?"
Blaise nodded to himself, he had a feeling he'd get along with Potter.
Snape's jaw dropped, "That was rather Slytherin of you Potter."
Nonchalant, Harry shrugged, "Too bad it didn't work."
That sounded slightly foreboding.
"Why not?" Tracey asked.
Harry smirked at her, making some stare at how like a Slytherin he looked just then, as if to match the new Slytherin side of him many were just noticing.
"You'll see."
"You'll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won't you?" roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry with his fist raised.
"Oi!" yelled many of the Gryffindors, enraged that someone had threatened one of their own.
It took several minutes for everyone to calm down, it didn't help that McGonagall (The one who controlled the Gryffindors the easiest) was shaking with silent rage.
But Harry stood his ground. "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. "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."
Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple.
"How long did it take him to think about it?" Malfoy asked, "A while I'd bet."
Too the surprise of many Harry nodded, snickering, "It took at least ten minutes."
"Right," he snapped finally. "I shall monitor your ehavior 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."
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. Harry didn't return to the kitchen. He went back upstairs to his bedroom. 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.
"That's depressing, won't the cards be lonely?" Wondered a spacey looking Ravenclaw named Luna Lovegood.
Her housemates gave her funny looks, but didn't say anything.
Then he went to Hedwig's cage. Errol seemed to have recovered; he and Hedwig were both asleep, heads under their wings.
Harry sighed, then poked them both awake.
"Hedwig," he said gloomily, "you're going to have to clear off for a week. 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."
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. But Harry didn't have long to brood. In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Harry to come down and get ready to welcome their guest.
"And the torture begins," Harry moaned, beating his head against the table. It was wonderfully hard, and succeeded in giving him a headache which was great for distracting himself.
Hermione sighed, "Honestly…"
"Do something about your hair!" Aunt Petunia snapped as he reached the hall.
"Not likely," Ron commented, snorting. The number of times he'd watched Harry attempt to tame the rat's nest…
Harry couldn't see the point of trying to make his hair lie flat. Aunt Marge loved criticizing 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.
"Get the door!" Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry.
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.
Cho turned green, "They're an attractive bunch, aren't they?" she asked sarcastically.
Everyone enjoyed a snicker at the Dursleys expense.
In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.
"Where's my Dudders?" roared Aunt Marge. "Where's my neffy-poo?"
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.
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.
"Zat eez O'rrible!" Madame Maxime exclaimed, she would have loathed teaching a student liking him. She suddenly felt very bad for his teachers.
"Petunia!" shouted Aunt Marge, striding past Harry as though he was a hat stand.
"Yup, that's me. Harry The Magical Hat Stand." Harry commented sardonically, well versed in making light of the way his family treated him.
His comment was rewarded with laughs all around; even Snape's lips were twitching.
Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunia's bony cheekbone. Uncle Vernon now came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door.
"Tea, Marge?" he said. "And what will Ripper take?"
"Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer," said Aunt Marge as they all proceeded into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the hall with the suitcase.
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.
"I don't blame you in the least," Ginny told him, "We have an Aunt too that I prefer to avoid if possible."
The others Weasleys nodded.
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.
Hagrid chuckled, catching everyone's attention, "That's because they're good judges of character."
"Who's looking after the other dogs, Marge?" Uncle Vernon asked.
"Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them," boomed Aunt Marge. "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."
Ripper began to growl again as Harry sat down. This directed Aunt Marge's attention to Harry for the first time.
"So!" she barked. "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."
Dumbledore frowned, if that had happened Harry would have been even more similar to one Tom Riddle.
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.
"Don't you smirk at me!" boomed Aunt Marge.
"I can see you haven't improved since I last saw you. I hoped school would knock some manners into you."
She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her moustache, and said, "Where is it that you send him, again, Vernon?"
"St. Brutus's," said Uncle Vernon promptly. "It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases."
"I see," said Aunt Marge. "Do they use the cane at St. Brutus's, boy?" she barked across the table.
Hermione looked horrified, "Who asks that kind of thing?"
"Aunt Marge." Harry replied flatly, reigning in his anger at what he knew was coming soon.
"Er –"
Uncle Vernon nodded curtly behind Aunt Marge's back.
"Yes," said Harry. Then, feeling he might as well do the thing properly, he added, "all the time."
"Excellent," said Aunt Marge. "I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what's needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have you been beaten often?"
"Someone should beat her!" Montague Flint, an older Slytherin, yelled out. He didn't like muggles to begin with and he was really starting to hate these ones in particular.
"Oh, yeah," said Harry, "loads of times."
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."
Professor Sprout, the gentle Head of Hufflepuff growled, surprising everyone and earning her some wary looks.
It seemed this particular section was evoking violent reactions from everyone. Harry shuddered to think of what would have happened had the Dursleys been there now.
Perhaps Uncle Vernon was worried that Harry might forget their bargain;in any case, he changed the subject abruptly.
"Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?"
As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Harry caught himself thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her. 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.
"Your fine just the way you are." Angelina declared, the other two chasers nodding along with her. They had all always thought of Harry as a little brother, with him being the youngest on their team, and they hated to hear how his family treated him.
Harry nodded gratefully, unsure of his voice.
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.
"As if I wanted anything from her," Harry commented dryly, "It's not like I was raised to expect such things."
Hermione frowned, and exchanged a look with Fred and George; they definitely had to get him away from that family. If Dumbledore wouldn't help, maybe they could go the muggle route and get him emancipated or something.
Determined, Hermione decided then and there to talk to her dad about it as soon as she got the chance.
She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person.
"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."
Harry tried to concentrate on his food, but his hands shook and his face was starting to burn with anger.
Uh oh, was the common thought of all those who were acquainted with Harry's temper.
He didn't have his mother's red hair, but many joked that he'd still inherited her temper that had gone with it.
Remember the form, he told himself Think about Hogsmeade. Don't say anything. Don't rise.
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 –"
The Slytherins exchanged meaningful looks, what the muggle was saying sounded oddly similar to some views on magic and how it should be passed down. Why did it sound so bad when it came from her?
After all, many thought of Harry as lower than them because his mother was a muggle-born, never mind that the Potter family was one of the oldest around, older even than the Malfoys.
At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping…
"Was that you, Harry?" Hermione asked. She knew he'd blown up his aunt with accidental magic, but had this been him too?
Harry just smiled innocently at her, not answering.
"Marge!" squealed Aunt Petunia. "Marge, are you all right?"
"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..."
But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking at Harry suspiciously, so he decided he'd better skip dessert and escape from the table as soon as he could.
"Smart," Terry Boot commented, he was a muggle-born, and while his parents were okay with it, his brother and sister weren't so accepting.
It certainly made for strained holidays in the Boot household, and he could relate to the whole 'hating the holidays' feeling.
Outside in the hall, he leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. It had been a long time since he'd lost control and made something explode.
"So it was you!" Hermione exclaimed, before looking at him concerned, "Is it normal for you to still have trouble with your magic?"
Dumbledore shook his head, "Most everyone's magic stabilizes at age ten, it's why you start schooling at eleven when everyone's magic should be easier to control."
People were confused, what did that mean for Harry?
What it meant, was something Dumbledore didn't seem to want to discuss as he quickly sent McGonagall causing her to being reading again.
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.
"Accidental magic is different from purposefully doing magic," Susan told him, "The sensor at the ministry should be able to tell the difference."
Harry raised his eyebrows doubtfully; if that was true why didn't they know Dobby was the one who did the hover charm and not him?
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 gotten an official warning that had stated quite clearly that if the Ministry got wind of any more magic in Privet Drive, Harry would face expulsion from Hogwarts.
He heard the Dursleys leaving the table and hurried upstairs out of the way.
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.
"Quidditch, does that to the best of us…" Wood mused, smiling at the thought of his favorite sport. People often said it was his life, and they weren't far off the mark.
Viktor nodded, he too had a life that revolved around Quidditch. He had only been here a month and he already sorely missed playing Quidditch.
At last, at long last, the final evening of Marge's stay arrived.
Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. 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 with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company;then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.
Ron opened his mouth to ask if this was it, before closing it with a snap. He was acting like they weren't fighting, why did he keep forgetting? It was so much more natural to talk to Harry, that he was having trouble remembering to be mad.
It must just be the book he rationalized, after all at this point in the book we WERE friends.
It almost worked, but there was still that nagging voice in the back of his mind saying that it was really because he knew deep down (Very deep down) that Harry wasn't lying.
He just wasn't ready to forgive him yet.
"Can I tempt you, Marge?"
Aunt Marge had already had quite 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 ticket."
Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie.
"No wonder he eez fat." Whispered one of Fluer's friends, who was very thin herself.
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.
"He really should have just let me go…" Harry observed.
"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..." 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.
"Healthy Sized!" Madame Pomfrey spluttered, unable to believe it.
She turned to Harry, "You may be slim, but your cousin is the unhealthy one." She told him sternly, as if she thought he might believe otherwise.
"I know," he told her smiling. He had always liked Madame Pomfrey, even though he didn't like being in the hospital wing.
"You'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father.
Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Vernon...Now, this one here –" She jerked her head at Harry, who felt his stomach clench.
The Handbook, he thought quickly.
Ron snickered, "See Hermione, Quidditch is good for something!"
Annoyed, Hermione huffed.
"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 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 shovel-like one "but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastreland here's the result right in front of us."
Snape scowled, he had never liked Petunia as a child and had rarely bothered to hide it, but he still hadn't expected her to think this badly of her sister. Even if she wasn't the one to say it, she didn't protest.
What made it worse was that, back before Lily went to Hogwarts, the sisters had been close.
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.
"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 a professional Duelist," Professor Flitwick said, "I trained him."
Harry was surprised, he had never really thought about what his father had done, though he had known that his parents must have been some kind a threat to Voldemort for him to have targeted them.
McGonagall quickly read on before they could all get side-tracked again, at this rate they'd never get through this book, let alone the next one.
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.
"He – didn't work," said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Harry. "Unemployed."
"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 –"
"He was not," said Harry suddenly.
Fred and George gasped loudly, "Here it comes…"
"…The famous Potter temper…"
"…That makes even the bravest Gryffindor…"
"…Run and cower!" They cried dramatically.
Harry scowled at them but didn't comment as the other Gryffindors were loudly agreeing with the twins.
The rest of the school was very amused by the Gryffindor's antics, most believing they were exaggerating.
The table went very quiet. Harry was shaking all over. He had never felt so angry in his life.
"MORE BRANDY!" yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white.
"SEE! They know to avoid his anger too!" Lee yelled.
He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass.
"You, boy," he snarled at Harry. "Go to bed, go on –"
"No, Vernon," hiccupped 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) –"
"She really should have just let me go…" Harry muttered, "Though she deserves what she gets."
"Harry!" Hermione scolded half-heartedly. But it was hard to tell him off, when she too thought she deserved what was coming.
"'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!" screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury. "You are an insolent, ungrateful little –"
But Aunt Marge suddenly stopped speaking.
"Did you hit her?" Colin Creevy asked excitedly, practically bouncing in his seat.
Everyone stared at him as if he was insane.
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 had just 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 –
Laughter filled the room, everyone found this image funny. Some were laughing so hard they were crying.
The twins, in particular, had fallen out of their seats they were laughing so hard. Only Hermione and Ron had known the full story after all.
And after all the tense moments that had occurred since this book reading began, they needed this comic release.
"I can't believe you blew up your Aunt!" cried Lee, who suddenly wished they were watching what they were reading, he wanted to see this.
Fluer giggled, "She was… asking for it, no?" she suggested, speaking slowly, trying to better control her accent.
"MARGE!" yelled Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia together as Aunt Marge's whole body began to rise off her chair toward the ceiling.
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.
Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly.
"I really don't like tha' dog." Hagrid growled, causing those who heard to look at him funny.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks. They had never thought they'd meet a creature Hagrid didn't like.
"NOOOOOOO!" Uncle Vernon seized one of Marge's feet and tried to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself.
A second later, Ripper leapt forward and sank his teeth into Uncle Vernon's leg.
"Zey weren't kidding about your temper were zey?" Gabrielle guessed, as she leaned sleepily against her sister.
"NOOOO! We weren't!" The Gryffindors shouted.
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. He sprinted upstairs and threw himself under the bed, wrenching 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.
"Were you running away?" Daphne asked curiously. She had almost done the same thing many times. She was constantly butting heads with her father, and while she couldn't do magic outside of school, he could.
Harry met her gaze, and recognized the understanding in her eyes, "Yeah. I was."
"COME BACK IN HERE!" he bellowed. "COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!"
But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon.
"She deserved it," Harry said, breathing very fast. "She deserved what she got. You keep away from me." He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door. "I'm going," Harry said. "I've had enough."
And in the next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him, Hedwig's cage under his arm.
The hall was quiet.
"That was the end of the chapter." McGonagall announced, marking the page and closing the book with a loud snap.
Hannah Abbot, a usually timid Hufflepuff, looked over at Harry, "Remind never to make you truly angry."
"I don't think you'll have to worry about that, Hannah. You can't make people mad even when you try." Susan pointed out, bumping her shoulder against Hannah's.
Malfoy shook his head, "She's got the right idea though. Making Potter angry is dangerous."
Unable to hold it in any longer Harry began to laugh really hard, gaining him some stares. Most had never seen him truly relaxed and as such had never seen him laugh.
"I'm glad that I'm known for something that's actually true." He admitted once he managed to stop laughing, he'd always had problems with his temper and would rather be avoided for that, than for something he hadn't done.
Dumbledore, seeing conversations break out everywhere, took it upon himself to get the next chapter started.
"Who would like to read next?
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Note: Well, that's another Chapter down! Some reviewers have mentioned the pairing in this story, so I want to put out there now that this is not going to have a main pairing. This is mostly a friendship/family story if anything and just a way for me to explore a lot of characters. Let me know what you think! (:
