For a long while, Harry merely stared at his mum in silence as he slowly processed what she'd said.

"Marge…" he said thoughtfully. The name rang a bell but didn't sound exceptionally familiar.

"Dudley's aunt, on his father's side," Lily supplied helpfully.

"Oh…oh."

Lily merely nodded in agreement as she slid into the driver's seat and started the car. Marge was Vernon's sister and therefore no blood relation of theirs, and Lily couldn't recall having ever met the woman. Petunia had mentioned Marge's intention to visit in a short note Lily had received just a few days prior, and Lily had to confess that she was worried. They had to spend time at her sister's to keep the blood connection charms alive, but Vernon and Petunia at least knew that their guests were magical. Marge knew nothing of the sort, nor was she supposed to, and if she was anything like her brother…this visit had the potential to be the most challenging yet.

"Great," Harry muttered, staring out at the London traffic without even a hint of actual interest. "These visits already suck, and now we have to deal with two Vernons instead of one?"

"Harry," Lily chided. "It's only for an afternoon, and I expect you to be on your best behavior."

"Yes, Mum."

"At least you know your aunt's a good cook," Hermione said in an effort to lighten the situation.

"Oh yeah, coz that's such a consolation," Draco drawled sarcastically, making no effort to hide his eye roll.

"I was just trying to be helpful!" Hermione's indignation and hurt were apparent.

"Well, you failed."

"Enough, you three," Lily said sharply. "It's Christmas, and I won't stand for you bickering over something stupid from now until New Year's."

The rest of the car ride was extremely subdued – hardly anyone spoke at all. It was such an abrupt change from their awed examination of the Marauder's Map mere hours previous, and Sirius immediately commented on the children's sullen moods when they trooped into the Grangers' house.

"Come on now, it's Christmas," he said. "So you have to spend a few hours with Muggles, so what? Don't let one measly afternoon ruin your entire vacation. Now, what we've got here might not be a Hogwarts feast, but it still smells damn good, so get rid of those frowns and come eat." And with that, he quickly transformed into his Animagus form, slobbering all over the three of them and wagging his tail cheekily before retreating to the Grangers' dining room. His deliberate playfulness lightened the tension somewhat, and dinner passed in a far more relaxed manner than the car ride.

The children managed to comply with the adults' requests and set aside their squabbles for the sake of the holiday, and it was with genuine excitement that Harry and Draco appeared in the Grangers' living room on Christmas morning.

"Apparition is a beautiful thing," Lily said to no one in particular as she gestured towards herself, Sirius, and the boys, the latter of who were already hugging Hermione and wishing her a happy Christmas. In spite of the cold wind gnawing at the windows and the slight dusting of snow on the ground, the handy form of transport meant that they were able to bypass the elements and join their friends in their pajamas.

Hermione and Harry jointly won the unofficial 'best Christmas gift' award that year. Hermione's was a broom – until that point, she'd been riding on one of Sirius' old brooms, with extra emphasis on old. She hated her inability to join in properly when Sirius, Harry, and Draco played pick-up Quidditch, and the broom was even outdated when compared to the Weasley family's much more modest choices. After extensive research and a bit of saving – Hermione had insisted on contributing towards the cost of her new broom – she chose a model comparable to the Nimbus 2000s the boys rode, and when she opened the package, they couldn't help but admire it.

"A Thunderbolt XVI – good choice, Maya," Harry said approvingly as he examined the broom's handle, which was a dark and elegant reddish-brown color. He pronounced the Roman numerals as 'ex vee eye' – anyone who knew brooms knew that that was how it was supposed to be pronounced. 'Thunderbolt Sixteen' just didn't sound as cool.

"I agree," Draco said. "This is a great broom."

"I think I know what we're doing at some point this holiday," Sirius said, his eyes sparkling merrily.

"Pick-up Quidditch in the snow? Hell yes!" was the consensus, and everyone laughed.

If Hermione's present had them exclaiming admiringly, Harry's shocked them into silence.

"What is that?" Hermione's father asked, just as Draco muttered, "Holy Merlin…"

"Put it on, Harry," Sirius encouraged, gesturing towards the length of silvery material Harry had just unwrapped. Harry obliged by wrapping the fabric around his shoulders. The Grangers gave twin gasps of shock, and Harry nearly fell over as he looked down and realized why: he was invisible.

"W-what?" he stammered.

"Invisibility cloak," Sirius said proudly. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"But…but those are so rare!" Hermione exclaimed. "Surely something like that costs far more than is practical…"

"Trust me, Hermione, that thing is priceless," Sirius said with a laugh. "But we didn't buy it – it's a Potter family heirloom. James had it with him at school. Dumbledore borrowed it for a bit at one point, but it's been sitting in the back of my closet ever since he returned it – I just kept forgetting to give it to you."

"I don't think that was really a loss, Sirius," Lily quipped. "They get up to enough trouble at Hogwarts already – can you imagine what they could do with that thing?"

"You mean we can all use it? And this was my dad's?" Harry asked in awe.

"Sure thing – and yes, it was your dad's. We Marauders used to do it all the time – might have to crouch a bit as you get older, since your feet'll start to stick out if you get too tall, but you get used to it. Go ahead, try it." Harry raised the cloak over his head and extended the edges like wings, gesturing for Draco and Hermione to join him as he did so. When they did, he carefully draped the cloak over all three of them.

"Worked like a charm," Sirius said, still sounding proud. He Conjured a large mirror and placed it in front of them, and though the adults couldn't see the children, they heard their audible gasps at the incontestable proof that they were well and truly invisible.

"This is so cool," Draco's voice came from nowhere. "Wish my family owned stuff like this."

"We are your family, Drake," was Harry's cheeky reply.

"True – I meant my blood relatives, though. I know we have vaults' worth of magical objects, but I doubt any of them are half as interesting."

"You never know – crazy pureblood families have a way of accumulating stuff you wouldn't expect," Sirius said, chuckling again. "The Blacks certainly have their fair share of bizarre possessions. Now take off that cloak, would you? I'm used to it, and I still think it's weird talking to someone you can't see."

The excitement of the morning soon gave way to trepidation as Lily, Sirius, and the boys dressed for dinner with the Dursleys. Lily fiddled with everyone's ties and fussed over suit jackets more than usual, and Harry tried extra hard to flatten his unruly hair, if only in an attempt to soothe his mother's frazzled state. The trip across town seemed to take even less time than they remembered, and the foursome soon found itself standing on the Dursleys' front stoop.

"Here goes nothing," Lily muttered as she reached out and rang the bell. "Remember – behave."

The boy who answered the door had grown so much in the last year that they almost didn't recognize him. Dudley Dursley hadn't gained much in the way of height, but he'd positively ballooned in terms of his sideways growth, and neither Harry nor Draco cared to guess how many chins he now possessed.

"Erm…Dudley!" Lily greeted her nephew just a touch too enthusiastically as she tried in vain to hide her shock at his appearance. "Happy Christmas, dear – how are you?"

"Fine," Dudley squeaked. Clearly, his terror at the thought of being in their presence hadn't changed. He pulled himself together long enough to invite them in, take their coats, and gesture towards the sitting room.

"Happy Christmas, Lily," Petunia said as she rose from her place on the sofa. The sisters greeted each other with an awkward kiss on the cheek, and Petunia nodded somewhat cordially to Lily's companions before gesturing towards the empty seats.

"Drinks?" she asked. Lily and Sirius accepted the offered wine, while Harry and Draco requested water. There was a pregnant silence in which everyone merely stared at each other and into their glasses before the door to the sitting room opened, admitting two people.

The first person who entered was someone they already knew – Vernon Dursley. He harrumphed an "afternoon" by way of greeting – considering his outward dislike of them, the utterance was positively polite – and headed straight for the bar, where he poured himself a generous glass of brandy.

The woman who followed Vernon into the room could only be his sister. She was just as round as he, with a thick neck that hardly showed beneath her prominent chins, a hideous cardigan that strained over her large bosom, and beady little eyes. She even had a hint of a mustache above her upper lip, although it wasn't nearly as prominent as her brother's bushy one. Her eyes narrowed a little as she took in her company, and Harry shifted his glass nervously in his hands – if Vernon had already spoken to her about their expected company, Harry doubted he'd said anything good. Just as quickly, however, the large woman schooled her features into a simpering smile and held out a fat hand towards Lily.

"You must be Lily," she said. "Marge Dursley. And who might these three be?"

"This is my son, Harry; his godfather, Sirius; and Sirius' cousin's son, Draco," Lily replied, pointing to each of them in turn.

"An…interesting set of relationships," Marge commented.

"We all live together," Lily said.

"I see. Charmed, I'm sure." But Marge sounded far from it. Secretly, Harry was glad that Marge hadn't made a move to shake hands with him too – aside from being repulsively overweight, her hands were visibly sweaty and disgusting.

Conversation remained on idle topics until dinner finished cooking, for which the boys were glad – Marge kept shooting them odd looks as if she were dying to say something about them but couldn't figure out how. As long as Uncle Vernon droned on about his drills, they were safe. In fact, the most interesting sight of the whole afternoon was Ripper, Marge's temperamental old bulldog, sending tea and drool flying all over the carpet as he lapped from a saucer. Judging from Aunt Petunia's barely suppressed grimaces, she hated the animal's presence and what it meant for her spotless house. Finally, dinner was ready, and they all headed into the dining room, where a lavishly decorated table awaited them.

The group remained fairly quiet throughout the meal, speaking mostly only to request the passing of this or that dish. Harry commented favorably on the homemade glaze coating the Christmas ham – it truly was delicious – and Aunt Petunia managed to thank him, though she looked a tad surprised as she did so. Uncle Vernon bored them all again with talk of a golf game he'd played with his marketing team, and Lily managed to coax a few words out of Dudley about his school, although the large boy seemed much more concerned with his meal than anything else.

Everything fell apart over dessert. Marge, who'd been generous with the brandy all evening, turned and addressed her sister-in-law.

"An interesting family you've got, Petunia."

Harry kept his gaze focused on his pie but inwardly bristled. We're sitting in the same room, thank you very much.

"Er…well, you know that only Lily and Harry are my blood relatives, yes?" Petunia managed to say. Even she looked uncomfortable at Marge's brashness, which made Harry relax somewhat – his aunt was curt and cold, but perhaps she wasn't completely horrible.

"Yes, I believe she mentioned something of the sort," Marge replied, sloshing more brandy into her glass. A few drops of the liquid hit the tablecloth as her unsteady hand wavered. "Then something about cousins and living together – honestly, as if I didn't know what that meant."

Harry's anger resurfaced as rapidly as it had dissipated. What the hell was this woman's problem?

"Excuse me?" Lily said, her eyebrows raised.

"You heard me." Marge took a large gulp of brandy. "Petunia told me your husband's been dead for twelve years now – so where does this one fit into the equation?" She waved a hand towards Draco, nearly knocking over Dudley's glass in the process.

"What do you mean?" Lily asked evenly, though her voice was shaking slightly.

"Well obviously you're lying about this one's age," Marge slurred, pointing at Draco again and actually succeeding in upsetting Dudley's glass this time. "He looks nothing like this one over here" – her finger moved from Draco to Harry – "and he doesn't look much like you so he must look like his father, and I know enough about breeding to know that they can't possibly be twins…"

"What the hell!"

Harry stood up so abruptly that his chair fell over backwards. Any other outcries from his family members – and he knew they'd come, as he could still see their angry expressions and moving mouths – fell on deaf ears as he glared furiously at Marge. He knew what she was insinuating, and he was livid.

"Got something to say to me, boy?" Marge drawled, slopping brandy all down her front before belching loudly.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Harry growled. "Did you not hear my aunt say that only my mum and I are her blood relatives?"

"Rubbish," Marge scoffed. "An easy lie to cover up for her sister's wanton ways. You needn't do that, dear," she said consolingly to Petunia, who was now looking horrorstruck.

"Marge…"

"Shut up!" Harry roared. "That was not a lie, so you can just shut up about it right now!"

"Harry…" Lily began.

"No, Mum," Harry said. "I can't put up with this crap anymore. I'm not going to listen to a complete stranger imply such things about my family, but I'm sure as hell not going to explain the reality of it either. She doesn't deserve the truth."

"Insolent little whelp," Marge glared. "Just because you're too stupid to see that Mummy dearest changes lovers like most women change clothes…"

"THAT'S IT!"

Harry was positively shaking with fury, and Lily and Sirius realized too late the danger of the situation. Sirius leapt to his feet and tried to restrain his godson, but the damage was done, and a burst of uncontrolled magic slammed straight into Marge's chest. Almost immediately, she began swelling up like a balloon, seams ripping and buttons popping as she inflated.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?" Uncle Vernon roared. "YOU PUT HER RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

"NO!" Harry shouted back. "NOT UNTIL SHE TAKES BACK WHAT SHE SAID!"

"Harry, no!" Lily cried. Angry tears coursed down her cheeks as she held tightly to Draco, who was adding his own thoughts to the fray and clearly wanted to join his brother in hexing Marge into next week. "Sirius, we need help! Get in touch with Arthur, now!" Sirius heard her and raced outside, and they heard the faint 'pop' of Disapparition. No longer in his godfather's clenches, Harry merely collapsed onto the floor, his frame still visibly shivering with rage. When Sirius returned some ten minutes later with Arthur Weasley and a member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, the shouting match was still going on, Ripper was barking madly and had bitten half the group in his vain attempts to reach his mistress, and Marge seemed glued to the ceiling, her inflated features creepily distorted.

"Bloody Merlin," the other wizard muttered. "You weren't kidding…"
"No, I wasn't," Sirius snapped. "Now can we get on with it, please?"

Some fifteen minutes later, Marge was back to her normal size, her mind blissfully ignorant of the entire encounter. Harry thought it more than a bit unfair that she was the only one who received a Memory Charm – if he ever had to relive that horrible exchange again, it'd be too soon. Uncle Vernon immediately demanded they leave, and after a hasty goodbye to Aunt Petunia, they did as he asked without a backward glance. Some quick thinking on Mr. Weasley's part led to another selective Memory Charm as soon as Draco and Sirius were in the car – the Ministry official was a good enough bloke, but they couldn't trust anyone knowing the extent of the two Blacks' relationship with the Potters. Unfortunately, however, they couldn't remove the man's knowledge of the event entirely, as others at the Ministry had overheard the exchange and witnessed him leaving, and his next words made Harry's blood run cold:

"Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I'm going to have to request your presence at the Ministry in three days' time."


A/N: Well that was an intense scene to write...

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