Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter!
A/N: Hello everyone it's been a while. I haven't updated this story since August 11 and I'm sorry to keep you guys hanging. It's just ever since I started school it's been a struggle for me to find time to write a chapter for a story. With all the work and things like that but I also just want to do other things like relax. I didn't mean to keep you guys waiting for so long. I also have been on a writers block so that's another reason why I haven't been updating this story. But ever since I reread the Harry Potter and Prisoner of Azkaban I've gotten a pretty good idea of what I'm going to do for the Prisoner of Azkaban arc of this FanFiction.
As always I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 10: Aunt Marge's Visit
It's been a while since Hannah was at Hogwarts, Ginny and Collin check on her from time to time. Hannah was glad that Ginny was better ever since the Chamber incident.
Harry told Hannah that Ron tried to call him. But that didn't end so well because uncle Vernon got made at Harry. So she werote Ginny to tell Ron not to call them and Ginny wrote her back that Ron suppected that he got Harry introuble and that he won't call again.
"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! What use is that? Lunatics 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. Hannah and Harry both knew that 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 neighbors.
"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?"
"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."
"Aunt Marge?" Hannah heard Harry blurt out. "Sh-she's not coming here, is she?"
Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Hannah and Harry they had been forced to call her 'Aunt' all tjere 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 Hannah'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. A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry and Hannah. On her last visit, the year before Harry started at Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden on the tail of her favorite 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.
"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."
Hannah saw Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Hannah knew that Watching Harry being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley's favorite form of entertainment.
"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 and Hannah."
"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," Hannah saw Harry through gritted teeth.
"And thirdly," said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, "we've told Marge that you two attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminals."
"What?" Both Harry and Hannah yelled.
"And you'll be sticking to that story, boy, or there'll be trouble," spat Uncle Vernon.
"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.
Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.
"See you in a bit, then," he said, and he left the kitchen.
Hannah saw Harry got to the stairs.
Hannah read a book until Aunt Marge came. She figured it would be the best thing to do until Aunt Marge came
"Get the door!" Hannah heard Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry
Hannah saw 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 mustache, though not as bushy as his. 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.
"Petunia!" shouted Aunt Marge, striding past Hannah and Harry. Hannah watch as 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 Hannah and Harry alone in the hall with the suitcase. But they weren't complaining; any excuse not to be with Aunt Marge was fine by them.
When Hannah came into the kitchen she saw Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. She saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. She knew that Aunt Petunia hated animals
"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 and Hannah both sat down. This directed Aunt Marge's attention to both of the Potters for the first time.
"So!" Hannah heard her barked. "Still here, the both of you are?"
"Yes," Hannah sai
"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."
Hannah knew that Harry was trying to stay calm so that he could go to hogsmead with Ron and Hermione.
"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 mustache, 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.
"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?"
"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."
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, both Hannah and Harry caught themselves thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Hannah and Harry to stay out of their way, which Hannah and Harry were 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. 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. She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person. Hannah was glad that aunt Marge just ignored her. But she always paid attention just in case.
"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."
Hannah noticed that Harry was trying to concentrate on his food, but his hands shook and his face was starting to burn with anger.
"It's one of the basic rules of breeding," Aunt Marge 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 --"
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.
"Marge!" Hannah heard Aunt Petunia squealed. "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 the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip..."
Hannah notice that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking at Harry suspiciously.
"Can I tempt you, Marge?" Hannah heard Aunt Petunia ask one day.
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."
Hannah noticed that Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Hannah and Harry both
wanted to disappear into their bedroom, but Hannah knew that was a bad idea when she saw the look uncle Vernon was giving Harry.
"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. "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.
"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. 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" Hannah watched as she pat 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 wastrel and here's the result right in front of us."
"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?"
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents. Hannah just watch in silent.
"He—didn't work," said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Harry and Hannah. "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. The table went very quiet. Hannah looked at her brother in shock. She never seen him that angry in her life before.
"MORE BRANDY!" yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass. "You, boy," he snarled at Harry. "Go to bed, go on --"
"No, Vernon," hiccuped 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!" screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury. "You are an insolent, ungrateful little—"
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 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…
"MARGE!" Hannah heard Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia yell together as she saw 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.
"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.
Harry took Hannah and thru 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. Harry got both of there stuff and 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!"
Hannah watch as Harry 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 and Hannah went to the door.
"Where going," Harry said. "I've had enough."
And in the next moment, Hannah and Harry were both out in the dark.