Dudley's tenth birthday started off like every other day. Harry awoke in his cupboard, pulled off a spider from his pillow, and dressed himself in too-big clothing. No sooner than he had stepped out of his dusty cupboard, a large, mustachioed face appeared only inches in front of his eyes.
"I'm warning you, boy," barked Uncle Vernon. "There better be no funny business out of you today!"
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said flatly, wondering why he was always blamed when strange things happened around him.
Harry's heart sank when he wandered into the kitchen; the sight of a wheezing, growling bulldog at Dudley's feet meant that Aunt Marge was here to celebrate Dudley's special day.
"Hurry up and eat," snapped Aunt Petunia, shoving burnt toast into Harry's hands. "Duddy's friends will be here any moment and I won't have you in the way."
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," muttered Harry. He ate quickly and tried to escape, but something whacked him on his shins.
"Where do you think you're going?" Aunt Marge snarled. "It's your cousin's birthday, you ungrateful imp!"
"He didn't even wish me a happy birthday!" Dudley interrupted, feigning tears.
"You selfish brat! Wish your cousin a happy birthday!" Marge shouted, spitting all over Harry's glasses.
Harry half-heartedly wished Dudley a happy birthday, but then had the wind knocked out of him when Marge struck him across the back with her cane as she disappeared into the powder room. Furious and hurting, Harry wished that Marge would never come out of that toilet, that she'd never hit him again with her cane.
Dudley's friends arrived moments later. Harry sulked alone in a corner while Dudley opened each one of his gifts. He received 37 presents - five more than last year - and declared it the best birthday yet. He and his friends then went outside to play, leaving Harry to clean up the mess.
"What is that smell?" Uncle Vernon said abruptly, as Harry filled another wastebasket full of torn wrapping paper.
"VERNON! PETUNIA! HELP! HELP!" a voice called, sounding as if it came from the powder room.
"What have you done?" Aunt Petunia turned immediately to Harry.
"I haven't done anything! I've been here this whole–"
"ARGH!" Uncle Vernon screamed, upon opening the door to the powder room.
"I'M STUCK! I'M STUCK!" Marge's shrill voice rang out. "I CAN'T GET OUT!"
"I don't know how you did this," Uncle Vernon said, turning puce and poking Harry in the chest aggressively, "but I know it was you!"
"I haven't done anything!" Harry retorted, trying to hold back his laughter. Uncle Vernon took one of Aunt Marge's beefy hands, pulling it with all his might, but Aunt Marge wouldn't budge.
"IT'S THE BLOODY TOILET!" Marge bellowed. "IT'S SUCKED ME IN!"
"On three," Aunt Petunia shrieked. "One…two…three!" She and Uncle Vernon each pulled on one of Marge's hands, until a loud crack resounded, followed by what sounded like a pig's squeal.
Aunt Marge emerged from the powder room, but she had taken the toilet - and its malodorous contents - with her, spilling all over the floor and seeping out into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia screeched, having stepped in the foul mess, let go of Aunt Marge, leaving Uncle Vernon to fly back, landing on his side in the watery muck.
"CALL 999!" Marge screamed. Harry wanted to bolt from the spot, but as he was closest to the telephone, he had no choice but to dial the emergency number.
It took three grown men and a crowbar to finally release Aunt Marge from the toilet. One of the responders claimed that he'd seen this happen once before, but for a small child who had fallen into the toilet.
Uncle Vernon showered and changed while the responders, who were very kind, helped Aunt Petunia to clean the kitchen. Harry suspected they felt sorry for him; when Aunt Petunia shoved a mop into Harry's hands, one of them took pity on him and volunteered to help.
As soon as the mess was cleaned and the responders left, however, Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry.
"WHAT DID YOU DO?"
"Nothing! I haven't done anything!"
"GO TO YOUR CUPBOARD! NO DINNER!"
Harry scowled, wondering how he was at fault, and he returned to his cupboard. From under the stairs, Harry heard Uncle Vernon shout that he'd be back with a new toilet. Marge and Petunia went upstairs to clean themselves up, stomping dust onto Harry with each of their steps.
Harry heard Uncle Vernon return an hour later. Suddenly, Harry's cupboard door flew open and he was dragged out by the collar to the powder room.
"EXPLAIN YOURSELF!" Uncle Vernon's face was purple. There was a box with a new toilet on his right, but inside the powder room, it looked as if nothing had happened. The original toilet was where it belonged. There were no signs - or scents - lingering from Marge's calamity.
"I don't…I don't know," Harry said, staring at the immaculate powder room. "I didn't do anything."
"Why do you have a new toilet, Vernon?" Aunt Marge said, confused.
"I didn't ask for a new toilet for Duddykins!" Aunt Petunia added crossly. "That wasn't one of his birthday presents!"
Uncle Vernon sputtered; seeing an opportunity, Harry played along with Marge and Petunia.
"Dudley complained the old toilet was too small," Harry lied, mustering a smile for everyone. "Right, Uncle Vernon?"
"He is a growing boy, Vernon," Marge agreed. "That old toilet was no good."
Aunt Petunia concurred. Vernon's mustache twitched; his beady eyes drifted towards Harry, who tried very hard not to betray himself. Vernon returned to his usual color, muttering about 'funny business,' but found a bow and put it on the new toilet box to surprise Dudley later.
At the end of the day, Harry found he didn't mind Dudley's tenth birthday and wondered what kinds of 'funny business' would happen on his eleventh.
Marge's mishap had been pretty funny, after all.