AN There isn't any warning I can think of for this chapter; enjoy.

Disclaimer I don't own anything.

Chapter 3: Harry Has a Bad Week

July 20 -27, 2021

Harry Potter sat at his desk, watching out the window as the sun began to rise, it was late July, and Harry had wanted to go back to Hogwarts since he arrived home; Harry hated living with the Dursleys; his summers turned into him doing all the cleaning and cooking, just like before he went to Hogwarts. During the summer holidays, Harry had to do everything on the weekends and after school, but since Hogwarts was a boarding school, Harry only had to become the Dursley's house elf during the summer.

The reason that Harry was up before the sun; the Dursleys forced him to do so many chores yesterday, clean the whole house, dust everything, clean all the windows, do the laundry, vacuum the rugs, mop the floors, weed the garden, mow the lawn, and scrub every surface in every room of the house, Vernon had banged on Harry's door at six o'clock and ordered him to start cleaning, and because Harry had to pause to cook their meals, then clean up after every meal; breakfast, lunch, and dinner, it took Harry until nine-thirty to do it all, the moment he finished, Vernon ordered him to his room, where Harry laid down and went right to sleep, which is why Harry woke at four this morning, and not being able to go back to sleep, Harry took a shower, snuck down to the kitchen and had a bowl of cereal. He came back to his room and started doing his homework because, after today, he didn't know if he'll get the chance.

Marge Dursley, Vernon's sister, was coming to visit for a week, the reason Harry spent all-day working like a dog yesterday, everything always had to be perfect when Marge visits, and they expected Harry to be the one that made it that way; this week was going to be hell, Marge loved picking on Harry, bullying him, and the Dursley's expected Harry to sit there and take it, and he was expected to do whatever Marge wanted, which was carrying her glasses of Brandy all day, making and carrying her stuff to eat, every couple of hours, cleaning up after her bulldog Ripper, and even taking him on walks, despite the fact he always tried to bite Harry's ankles. But Marge's knees were always acting up on her due to arthritis. Or so she claims. Harry sometimes wondered if it was an excuse just so she could carry around her walking still, so she could use it to hit people. Marge was an awful person.

"Boy, down here now!" Vernon Dursley's voice suddenly shouted up the stairs making Harry jump in surprise. Groaning, he put down his quill and stood; morning always seemed to go by fast, it felt like the sun had just come up, and here it was almost eight o'clock; Vernon probably wanted breakfast before picking Marge up at the train station. Vernon yelled for Harry again when he left his room and made it to the top of the stairs, where Vernon stood at the bottom, glaring up at him.

"Finally." Vernon snapped, "Took you long enough."

"What do you want?" Harry demanded, crossing his arms, he wasn't sure where he got it from if his mother or father once had smart mouths too, but Harry had this tell-it-like-it-is sarcastic attitude he didn't seem to be able to control; the Dursleys didn't care for Harry's sassy attitude, but mostly snapped at Harry for saying something they didn't like or glared, sometimes if he went too far, Vernon or Petunia would smack him on the back of the head or arm. Marge, on the other hand, Harry had to be careful what he said to her or risk being hit in the shins by her walking stick.

"Don't take that tone of voice with me, boy," Vernon warned, "Now, you go help your Aunt with breakfast. I need to eat before going to fetch Marge."

Harry walked down the stairs and into the kitchen; Aunt Petunia looked up from flipping through some magazine to give his messy hair a dirty look as if it offended her. She had always hated how no matter what, his hair wouldn't lay flat, and this morning Harry's hair was even messier than usual, considering he hadn't brushed it yet.

"Well, get to it." Petunia snapped; Harry looked towards the stove to see the sausage, bacon, and eggs sitting on the counter. Rolling his eyes, Harry walked over, washed and dried his hands, got out the cookware, went to the stove, turned it on, and started cooking. It was just like Aunt Petunia to take a lazy day and leave everything up to Harry to do while his cousin Dudley got to sit at the table stuffing his face full of sugary treats while he watched the brand new kitchen television his parents bought him for no reason than not to have to make the long journey from the kitchen to the sitting room.

Harry was done with the bacon and sausage, put them on plates, and walked over and sat them in the middle of the table; Uncle Vernon was now in the kitchen watching the news with Dudley; they have been keeping track of every news program they could because about a week before Harry's school year ended, there was an alien invasion in New York City, Vernon and Dudley have kept track of all reports and news coverage of it, not that the Dursleys believed it was aliens, no, they thought it was some of Harry's lot, as in wizards, using their freakiness to conjure up some monsters to attack ordinary people, that's why the Dursleys had taken to cheering on the group calling themselves the Avengers because Harry's relatives believed they were people like them tired of the freaks threatening their lives and livelihood and were now using technology to fight them back. Harry did not think it was wizards responsible for the sole reason they would not use an alien invasion as a cover-up but probably claim the city was bombed or something. And do their best to rip all the muggle's memories. The lengths the Dursleys went through to lie to themselves that their world was anything but normal was astonishing.

Harry now set a big plate of toast on the table and then headed back to the stove to cook everyone's eggs; Dudley's eggs came first; he liked them scrambled because he couldn't stand that gross runny stuff, Aunt Petunia wanted her eggs sunny side up, and Uncle Vernon also liked his scrambled, because he likes putting them on top of his toast. Once Harry was done with the eggs, he carried Dudley's plate to him, then Vernon's, then Petunia's before heading to get their drinks; for Petunia, it would be tea, Vernon took coffee with four sugar cubes, and Dudley had orange juice. He gave them their drinks in the same order he gave them their food because Dudley always came first for everything, or else Harry would never hear the end of it.

Finally, Harry was able to eat; he grabbed a plate and a glass of orange juice, headed over to tHe table, and sat down; he grabbed two pieces of bacon and toast, any more than that, and he would have to hear Uncle Vernon complain about how he eats all their food and doesn't pay for any of it; Harry would starve if it weren't for the fact Harry cooks most of the meals and could be pretty sneaky; even with the Dursleys in the kitchen, Harry was always able to sneak food on a plate and hide it when left alone in the kitchen to do the washing up, he would pull out the food and eat it. Harry also snuck down to the kitchen some nights to steal some of Uncle Vernon's sweets. Since Vernon assumed Dudley was taking them, he never said a word about it.

"They still haven't caught that hooligan?" Vernon cried, "Why is it taken so long? Catch him before he decides to come to our country."

Vernon was talking about Loki, the guy who had led the alien invasion of New York City after it was over and his side lost. Loki had escaped capture and had been on the run for over a month. It was as if he had disappeared; Harry figured if Loki was from another planet or realm, whatever they claimed, then that's most likely where he was now, or even to another one. If Earth and Asgard exist, Harry figured it was safe to assume others planets or realms also did.

"Catch him and hang him, I say." Vernon continued, "That's the only way to stop people like him."

"You are right about that, Vernon." Petunia agreed.

If Vernon Dursley had his way, everyone that did anything he disapproved of would be hung, not that Harry didn't think Loki should get punished; he did, but Vernon also said the same thing about a guy named Sirius Black who had escaped from some unknown prison a couple of weeks ago, they didn't say what Sirius Black did, only that he was dangerous and do not approach him if you see him. And yet, Vernon thought he needed to be hung just because of his appearance.

"I need to get to the train station to collect Marge, but first, boy, we need to go over some rules," Vernon said, pointing at Harry. "First rule, no back talk, mumbling things under your breath, or dirty looks; you will mind your manners and tongue while Marge is here."

"I will if she does," Harry replied.

"Second," Vernon said, "Marge's knees have been acting up again, so you are to take Ripper on his morning and evening walks the week Marge is here."

"Fine." Harry snapped, crossing his arms.

"Lastly, Marge knows nothing about your abnormalities; I want to keep it that way, so no funny business while she's here." Vernon said, "And no mention of that school; we've told her you to attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"What?" Harry demanded, "Does that school even exist?"

"Of course it does," Vernon said, "And you watch your words and do what you're told, or you'll be going there instead of that other school come September." Harry glared at Vernon as he stood, kissed Petunia, patted Dudley on the shoulder, then left.

"Boy, clean the kitchen," Petunia ordered Harry before leaving the room; Harry got up and started cleaning; he ran some dishwater, then started carrying the dishes to the sink. Harry had to wash them by hand because the dishwasher was for Aunt Petunia's use only. Harry might break it. After the dishes, Harry cleaned off the kitchen table, the countertops, and the stove and had to do his best to sweep and mop around Dudley. Harry was coming in from taking the trash out when Aunt Petunia entered the kitchen to make Dudley get dressed; after ten minutes, Dudley stumped off to his room, and Petunia left the kitchen again without even glancing towards Harry, who walked over to the sink to wash his hands, then pulled out a plate he had hid for himself and leaned up against the counter and ate it while smirking and feeling proud of being so sneaky. It was a bit cold, but Harry was used to eating cold food.

Harry had just gotten done washing that plate when Petunia came back into the kitchen and barked at him to do something about his hair, Harry, hurried up to his room to brush it, though he knew it wasn't going to do any good. The moment Harry entered his room, he heard a tapping on his window; he turned to see an owl he didn't know looking at him through the window; it was a mottled grey-brown color, with a reddish brown face, a white patch on its throat, big yellow eyes and tufts of feathers on top of its head, that resembled horns. The owl pecked on the window again, causing Harry to rush over and open it before Petunia's sharp hearing heard the tapping.

The owl flew in the window and dropped two things on Harry's desk a package and a black envelope with Harry's name written in gold ink on the front; before perching on the edge of the desk watching him, Harry reached for the package first, but the owl pecked his hand, and Harry decided reading its letter first was the safest option. The letter was written in gold ink on black parchment paper; it was a little weird because the note was requesting Harry's address as a verification he had received his gift; feeling weird about it because no gift or letter Harry had ever received from the wizarding world asked for his address, not even his Hogwarts letter, but since the owl wasn't going anywhere until he did. Harry needed it gone before Vernon got back with Marge; Harry ripped off a piece of his parchment paper, quickly wrote his address down, stuck it in the envelope gave it to the owl, who immediately flew out his window with it.

Harry picked up the box; it wasn't all that big, A bit thin but long; it reminded Harry of the box his wand had come in, though a little wider; it was gold with a green ribbon tied around it; Harry undid the ribbon, then opened the lid, and there lying on green velvet was a gold dagger, he picked it up to look it over, the thing looked expensive and antique. Harry was no expert, but he was sure it was genuine gold. The handle was incrested with emeralds and what looked to be black diamonds, and the blade had two snakes intertwined engraved on it; Harry put the dagger back in the box and took out the note that was in it, it was written on the same black parchment paper, with the same gold ink, in the same fancy handwriting. It didn't have much written on it and didn't make much sense.

Harry, I Hope you enjoy your gift; hopefully, I'll be able to teach you how to use it correctly; happy early birthday.

The letter was written in English, but the signature was written in a language Harry had never seen before; he stood staring at it until the sound of Uncle Vernon's car pulling into the driveway brought Harry back to his sense; he opened his desk, drew, dropped the box in the drawer next to his Hogwarts school list, and the Hogsmeade permission slip, Harry signed Vernon's name to a few days ago, then closed the drawer then hurried downstairs just as Vernon and Marge walked in the door, dripping water all over the entranceway.

"So, you're still here, are you?" Marge asked the moment she saw him.

"Unfortunately, " Harry said.

"Don't be so ungrateful; you are lucky my brother kept you," Marge said, then pushed passed Harry to greet Dudley.

"Mop the water up and take Marge's suitcase to the guest room." Venom snapped, heading into the sitting room. "Would you like some tea, Marge?"

The week of Marge's visit was a nightmare; Harry had to do everything he knew he would; get up early to walk Ripper, which was difficult because Ripper wanted to snap at Harry's ankles. Then cooked all the meals, cleaned up after, and spent his time carrying things to Marge; on her second day there, she hit Harry in the shins with her walking stick when he groaned because she told him he hadn't poured enough brandy in her glass and told him to pour more. On the third day of Marge's visit, Harry was taking Ripper on his evening walk; he was even nastier than usual and nearly got Harry's ankle when a big black dog came out of nowhere and chased after the bulldog; Harry had to chase them for two blocks until he could catch them by running back up the opposite way, then down the next street over, and running back up the road that Ripper and the big dog were running; down and cutting them off; he picked Ripper up, despite him trying to bite Harry, and held him away from the large dog.

"Please, if you hurt him, I'll get in a lot of trouble," Harry said; even though he didn't think the dog could understand him, the dog stopped trying to get at Ripper and sat down and stared at Harry with sad grey eyes. Harry felt sorry for him; he could tell the dog was a stray, he was skin and bones, and his fur was tangled. "You must be hungry."

Harry sat Ripper down, who hid behind Harry's legs, afraid of the much bigger dog, then pulled the little bag of bacon-flavored dog treats out of his back pocket. Marge made Harry take them with him when walking Ripper because he met get hungry; Harry got out a hand full of the bacon-shaped and flavored treats and held them out to the dog; he stared at Harry a moment, then stood, walked closer, and sniffed the treats, hesitated, then ate them out of Harry's hand. He got a few more out and laid them on the ground in front of the dog, then turned and made his way back to the Dursleys; Ripper was fine but shaking; Harry got a wack on the back of the head by Marge and accused of doing something to frighten her dog and then, after learning about the stray dog she had Petunia call the dog catcher. Two hours later, Harry watched as the large black dog was caught and taken away; after that, Marge became even worse, still blaming the whole thing on Harry.

"You're such a bitch," Harry mumbled under his breath; Marge stopped her rant and looked at him.

"What did you say, boy?" Marge demanded, "I don't think I heard you right; speak up."

"I said I have an itch." Harry lied, then reached down and started scratching his leg. "I must have caught fleas from Ripper."

"My dog doesn't have fleas," Marge yelled, banging her fist on the table.

Before Harry could reply, he was sent to his room by Vernon. They left him alone for the next two days, then finally, it was the last day of Marge's stay; the day went by as usual. Harry did all the dog walking, cleaning, and cooking, and after dinner, Harry did the cleaning up; while the Dursleys were sitting around Dudley's kitchen television, the news station was airing a press conference with Tony Stark, talking about the search for Loki, he was answering questions and trying to assure everyone they had nothing to fear and claimed to be close to catching him when a photo of Loki flashed on the screen, and they were giving an in-depth deception of him when Marge started on Harry.

"You know what, Vernon?" Marge asked. "Do you know who that guy looks like? The boy, Potter."

"Umm, yeah, I can see that," Vernon answered, "No good hooligans all look the same." Harry glanced at the television and didn't see what they were getting at; yeah, this Loki had the same eye and hair color, but other than that, no, Harry didn't think he looked like him.

"Are you sure the boy's father is dead, Petunia?" Marge asked; Harry rolled his eyes with a shake of his head, leave it up to Marge Dursley to want to find some connection between the New York attack and Harry.

"Yes..quite sure." Petunia answered.

"What of his family?" Marge asked, "Any brothers? Cousins?"

"I don't know. I never asked about his family." Petunia answered.

"No..no, why would you, right?" Marge replied and chuckled, "He was probably, what they call the black sheep of the family; that's what your sister was, wasn't she, Petunia? You see it all the time in dogs; it's all to do with bad blood."

"I'm sure his family was just as big as deadbeats as he was, Marge," Vernon added; Harry felt a little annoyed; trying to make Harry look bad was one thing, but how big of a jerk could someone be to talk about a kid's dead parents in front of him, while making said kid clean up after you.

"Brandy, boy," Marge ordered; Harry sat down the dishcloth, dried his hands, poured a glass of Brandy, walked over and handed it to Marge, then went back to the sink to finish the rest of the dishes; there was a lot tonight since Petunia had fixed a large meal for Marge's last night, Harry had been happy not to have to cook it, but it's going to take him a while to get all the dishes done. That's not even counting the dessert dishes.

"What did the boy's father do, Petunia?" Marge asked.

"Nothing, he was unemployed." Petunia answered.

"That figures," Marge said. "The mother was unemployed too, no doubt, most likely, living off handouts. Or doing something criminal to earn money."

"Oh my God, do you ever shut up!" Harry yelled, and the glass in Marge's hand broke, causing Petunia to scream.

"Don't fuss, Petunia; I have a firm grip," Marge told her; Harry snorted.

"You boy, up to your room," Vernon demanded. "Finish the dishes later."

"No, not yet, Vernon," Marge said, standing and facing Harry; he crossed his arms and glared. "Sticking up for that no-good family? Ha, the family that never did anything for you, instead, got themselves killed, leaving my hard-working brother to take you in. It would have been off to an orphanage if it were me, boy."

"I would have whether gone to an orphanage." Harry snapped, narrowing his eyes; using her walking stick, Marge walked closer to him.

"It's not too late to drop you off at one," Marge said; Harry could smell the brandy on her breath.

"It would be better than here," Harry said.

"You little bastard." Marge spat, "You've always been ungrateful and worthless; you will never amount to anything."

"Like you then," Harry replied. Marge grabbed Harry's arm, digging her nails into his skin, making Harry wince and try to pull his arm away.

"It's bad blood." Marge said, "I see it all the time with my dogs. If there is something wrong with the bitch then there's something wrong with the pup."

"The only bitch I know is you." Harry spat as he shook with anger.

"How dare you." Marge cried; her grip tightened on his arm as she raised her walking stick; Harry closed his eyes and raised his free hand, trying to block his head, but Marge suddenly screamed, dropped her walking stick, and stumbled back with a moan. Petunia let out a scream as Marge fell to the floor with a loud bang, and Vernon started yelling.

Harry dropped his arm and opened his eyes to see Marge sitting there with her clothes covered in ice; she resembled how a movie would portray someone caught out in a blizzard; her hair had ice hanging at the ends, and so did her eyelashes and eyebrows, and clothes had pieces of ice, and her hand that had grabbed Harry's arm was black with what looked like frostbite.

"You're...you're blue." Dudley stuttered; Harry raised his arms to see they were blue, as were his hands, just like when he was in the Chamber of Secrets, Riddle had suggested some creature gene in Harry had activated, and Harry told himself it was the Basilisk venom; he couldn't figure out what was causing this. Harry decided he probably should get out of there and took off running from the room, Vernon tried to grab him but missed and fell to the floor with a big bang, and once again, Petunia let out another unhelpful scream.

Harry rushed into his room, got on the floor by his bed, reached under it, pulled up the loose floorboard, pulled out his bag, looked to make sure everything was in it, grabbed a few changes of clothes, and shoved them in the bag, then pulled open his desk drawer and put everything from it in the bag, then put it on his back, and looked over to his open wardrobe at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the inside of the door, Harry hardly recognized himself, he was still blue. Harry now understood what Riddle said about markings; his forehead had somewhat looked like symbols, his scar went right through one, his cheeks had more going crossed them, and his eyes were red, almost glowing. Fortunately, as Harry watched, he turned back to normal. Relieved, Harry grabbed his wand off his desk, stuck it in his back pocket then ran from the room.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he heard yelling in the kitchen and walked into the room; Petunia was on the phone to who Harry figured was the authorities, Marge was still on the floor shivering, and Vernon lay on the kitchen floor screaming about his back, Aunt Petunia looked up saw Harry and let out a scream, picked up the salt shaker and threw it at him, Harry caught it, and tossed it on the floor.

"Get out of my house!" Petunia screamed, "Out! Now! You no longer live here." She picked up the pepper shaker and threw it at Harry; this time, it struck his head. "This is no longer your home! Out now!"

Harry felt a shiver go down his spine at her words, and he decided he best leave now before any police arrived; Harry turned from the kitchen and headed towards the front door, where he noticed Vernon had some money lying in a tray next to his keys, after a moment of hesitation Harry grabbed a couple twenty notes, before going out the door. Harry didn't have time to get his trunk from his old cupboard; it would be too hard to run while carrying it anyway; of course, that meant Harry was going to have to replace everything in it; most of the stuff he didn't care about, he usually had to buy new books for the school year anyway, most of his potion ingredients were running low, and his cauldron was burnt at the bottom so Harry could use a new one, but what sucked was, Harry now had to buy a new broom to play Quidditch this year if he was even allowed back at Hogwarts after what he just did. Plus, he couldn't grab Hedwig's cage or any school robes; he'll have to get new ones.

Harry ran down to the end of the street and had to stop to catch his breath; he bent over, holding onto his side; he felt either vomiting or crying; Harry honestly didn't mean to hurt Marge; he was trying to block her from hitting him. That was no accidental magic. He was sure of it, though it was an accident.

Harry heard a rustling and looked up, then sighed in relief when he saw it was only one of his neighbors, Mrs. Figg's weird cats, she used to babysit Harry when he was younger, and the Dursleys didn't want to take him with them. The sudden sound of sirens scared the cat away, and Harry decided he better take off also; Harry ran opposite the sirens, heading out of the neighborhood. When he got far enough to be safe, Harry would stop somewhere to sit down to rest a moment, then continue on his way; it was going to be a long walk to London, that's for sure.

AN Hope you enjoyed the chapter; I thought it would be a little interesting to change what happened to Marge; next will be in Harry's POV again, then we will be a chapter in Loki's POV