The Quetzal's Fire

Harry Potter

I'm trying to start a Harry Potter fanfiction message board. Email me or go to my homepage link and sign up for my totally subjective admittance process. As always: idiots need not apply. Fools, of course, are more than welcome.

A/N: Well, that was pretty rockin. I got a large portion of the story sketched out now and it's gametime. A small note: I don't consider it correct at all for quidditch or several other words invented (or popularized) by Mrs. Rowling to be proper nouns. For example: one would not write the American pastime's name as Baseball. It's baseball. It shouldn't be Mrs. Rowling's responsibility to catch it, though; it's an editor's responsibility. The books are very entertaining but they seem very poorly edited to yours truly (sorry if I sound like a douche; I ain't the best myself, to be honest). So, with nothing more ado, here's the next installment.

Part Two: The Inflatable Aunt

Two days after the Death Eaters struck, more good news came, this time from Uncle Vernon. By this time, Uncle Vernon's summons, commands, and tirades had gained a sort of tradition. For the commands, the salutation was always the same.

"Boy! Get down here!" Harry then responded in the usual manner: he sighed, opened his door, and shuffled feet until he arrived on the landing. Harry then glared at his uncle resentfully until he said something. "Marge is coming to visit, though I don't know why, considering what you did to her last time!"

"She got what she deserved," replied Harry acrimoniously, leveling Uncle Vernon's smoldering bluster right back at his fat face. Uncle Vernon looked very much like he wanted to step outside with Harry, but the pudgy muggle knew he couldn't. The owls that so infuriated Uncle Vernon came daily; naturally, if anything was done to Harry as soon as he got away he'd write to his "crowd" and demand reparations or retaliation.Therefore, Harry felt free to give his guardian whatever lip was deemed fit.

"Whatever you think aboutthat doesn't matter! It's my house and I will do what I please! Now behave, or…" Uncle Vernon stopped. He knew the ice was thin.

"What? You'll take away my food? I don't think that'll go over well," said Harry with a very pronounced smirk. "Not that you would do such a thing, of course." Rather than reply, which Uncle Vernon very obviously thought about doing, he stalked off and began speaking very loudly to Aunt Petunia about the evening's roast beef.

That afternoon, Uncle Vernon and Dudley drove to the station to pick up Aunt Marge. The Ministry had wiped Aunt Marge of her memory of the "expansion", but there was still an expanded, lingering dislike of Harry, as he was soon to find out.

Harry had been walking to a garage sale down a few cul-de-sacs. He didn't find any interesting books, just a few glam LP's, two broken toasters, an ancient pair of skis, and some movies made by some guy named Warren Miller. The people were pleasant enough, however, so Harry boughtZiggy Stardust and the Spiders from Marsand did society a favor by tossing it in an out of sight dumpster. The Dursleys couldn'texactly keep Harry inside Number Four all the time, so he wandered the neighborhood at will andin time hadbecame more popular with the neighbors than the Dursleys themselves. Nobody had ever really believed the stories about St. Brutus's anyway, so they were more than happy to chat with Harry while mowing their lawns.

Harry got back to Number Four in a cheerful mood, mildly wondering what he could do to piss Aunt Marge off to the greatest possible degree. Nothing really seemed plausible or logical, so he demurred, got out his key, and let himself in. Aunt Marge was taking tea with Harry's aunt and uncle.

"You!" bellowed Marge in her normal tone. "Get my luggage, will you?"

"Oh, I hadn't heard that porter service was included in your bill. Will I get tipped like Dudley?"asked Harry sweetly.Uncle Vernon was seething, but Aunt Marge cracked a sardonic smile. She was apushover compared to Snape. Who in the hell did she think she was? At the moment, she wasn't at all angry.

"Think you're better than us, boy?" shouted Aunt Marge.

"Oh, yes, very much. At least I'm not afraid of a sixteen year old." He paused, gauging his "aunt's" reaction."Take your own damn luggage upstairs, and I won't be giving my room to you." Marge was left dumbfounded. Harry had never talked to her like that before. He started to walk upstairs.

"Boy! Get down here!" ejaculated Uncle Vernon, always the quickest to recover.

"Bugger off," shouted Harry irritably as he slammed his door. He was going to get tired of having to shut Marge up all the time.

Harry remained in his room for some time, reading Flying With the Cannons again on the garage roof. He chucked some rocks at Dudley as the pig's"gang" came home. They ran away without any encouragement.

"Hey, Big D! Rough up someone deserving this time, or was it just Nelson Scates? I'd watch out, because he might be a wizard like me some day." Dudley shrank back andimmediately started searching for a retort.

"At… at least I'm not too scared to come down and fight like a man!"

"Oh, rubbish. Is that the best you can do? I could take you and your entire gang any day of the week. You didn't even make it to the semis this year, anyway. Your opponents didn't have strange cases of food poisoning this time," replied Harry, going back to his book. Dudley opened and shut his mouth a few times, but then walked inside. Harry could hear Marge greeting the pig when he arrived inside.

"Boy! Dinner!"

Harry strode into the kitchen without apprehension and served himself, sitting down as the Dursleys waited for him to deliver their plates as well, as was expected.Harry simply went to his chair and started eating. After several minutes and unheeded dirty glances, Petunia filled everyone's plate and placed it in front of them.

Some time passed in silence. Harry could tell that Aunt Marge was thinking up her opening salvo. She opened her mouth, but Harry struck first.

"Look. I don't understand why you think you get to belittle me at every opportunity, but I won't tolerate it and I don't have to. So please, just ignore me if you can't respect me. I deserve respect more than the lot of you put together." Harry got up, threw his napkin over Aunt Marge's still loaded plate and strode outside for a walk.