Chapter 14:

Aunt Marge's Visit

After that, the last few weeks of the year were fairly uneventful. Though the news of what had happened to Lockhart swept quickly around the school. Draco's spell, while effective, wasn't (yet) powerful and hadn't been enough to keep him unconscious for long. He'd threatened Harry and Ron, wanting to (apparently once again) take glory for a heroic act he hadn't completed. The Professors arrived as Lockhart tried to obliviate the Gryffindors. It hadn't gone well. Now – so the rumours said – he was locked up, his own spell having rebounded unto him.

But other than that, things were uneventful. Jessa was glad to see Ginny seemed to be feeling better, if still a bit dazed. Jessa warned both Taryn and Draco that she may not be able to write, that they shouldn't grow concerned if she didn't write them – it simply meant she wasn't allowed. Neither looked happy at that, but understood what she was saying, as much as they could given the lack of information she'd given them. But when they tried to ask more, she simply shrugged. "I live in a Muggle house," she said by way of explanation.

And then she was back with the Dursleys. Back, locked away in her closet except when she could be mildly useful to them. Her truck and school supplies got shoved into Harry's old cupboard.

Perhaps a week or two after they returned to Privet Drive, over breakfast one morning, Uncle Vernon made an announcement.

"I've got some news," he said loudly, and Jessa froze.

"Marge is coming to stay with us for a few weeks. And I don't want any funny business while she's here. Got it?" he said, glaring at his niece and nephew as he spoke.

"I'll behave if you sign this," Harry said, removing a slip of paper from his pocket. Jessa shot her brother a look. Had he learned nothing?

"What's this boy? Something for that school of yours?" Uncle Vernon sneered.

"It's a permission slip that I need you to sign. If you sign it, I'll behave," Harry said.

"Behave, and I'll sign it at the end of the week. And not a moment sooner," their uncle said, waving a pudgy finger at Harry. Grudgingly, he agreed, a scowl on his face.

"And one last thing. Marge doesn't know anything about your abnormalities, so we've told her that you, boy, go to St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"WHAT?" Harry yelled, but Uncle Vernon continued as if he hadn't heard him.

"And you girl, we've told her that you go to St. Mary's Centre for Incurably Unusual and Mad Girls."

"Excuse me?" she screamed, unable to stop the protest from leaving her lips, but Uncle Vernon simply waved his hand for Harry to join his sister. Far away from him.

"And you'll be sticking to that story!" he said, his eyes narrowed.

"What was that for?" she whispered as he joined her in the far corner of the dining room.

"A permission slip. All students third year and up are allowed to go to Hogsmeade Village on certain weekends."

"Well, you'd better make sure you don't mess up then," she responded, to which her brother rolled his eyes. But inside, he agreed and really hoped that for once, things would go the right way.

It was raining the day Aunt Marge came to town. She and her annoying dog entered Privet Drive, dripping water all over the front entrance.

"Oh. You brats are still here," she said distastefully upon seeing the Potter siblings.

"Yes," Harry and Jessa replied in unison.

"Don't you say 'yes' in that ungrateful tone," Aunt Marge growled. "It's damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you two. Wouldn't have done it myself. You'd both have gone straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on my doorstep."

"That probably would've been better," Jessa muttered underneath her breath as she grabbed Aunt Marge's bags and brought them to the guest room.

It was going to be a long week.

While there were minor incidents, it wasn't until Thursday that anything major happened. Instead of sticking to insulting just them, Aunt Marge began insulting their parents. A sore subject for both of them.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way they've turned out, Vernon," she said over lunch that day. "If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine.

"It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pups —"

Her insides clenched and she saw that Harry wasn't fairing much better.

"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" — she patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovel-like one – "but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families."

Jessa desperately wanted to curse her 'aunt', (except that since she had only completed one year of school, she didn't quite know anything powerful enough…that, and the fact that she was underage.)

"Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us."

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.

"My dad was not a wastrel!"

Jessa shot a look at her brother from across the room. She was furious too, but knew if they wanted to survive the summer, they 'ought to not talk back.

"You nasty little liar and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury. "You and your sister are 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 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…

Jessa gaped. She looked over to her brother again, sure he was doing this somehow.

As Aunt Marge disappeared into the sky, Uncle Vernon turned on them. "PUT HER RIGHT! GET HER BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!" Uncle Vernon yelled at her. But she just shook her head.

"She deserved what she got," she said evenly, not confirming nor denying that she had done the deed.

Suddenly, an owl swooped through the door, and dropped a letter in front of Jessa.

Dear Miss Potter,

We have received intelligence that you performed a Swelling Charm at forty-three minutes past eight this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of three Muggles.

This is a severe breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.

This letter has been sent to warn you that if you use any type of Underage magic in the future, you will be expelled immediately from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hoping you are well,

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

Jessa felt sick. Of course, it had singled her out and not Harry.

"Thanks a lot," she spat across the room at Harry, throwing the letter towards him, before tearing off for her closet. She began stuffing the few things she into her bag.

A knock sounded on the closet door. "Jessa? I'm sorry. I didn't know that would happen."

She swung the door open. "How could you have been so stupid though? You knew she was baiting us."

"Doesn't mean it's easy to stay calm."

"I didn't say it was. It took effort on my part, too, you know!" she countered.

He nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

After everyone was asleep, Jessa slung her bag over her shoulder, carefully and quietly picked the lock on the cupboard, and stole out of the house.

She was for once, grateful her brother had been moved upstairs. He was a relatively light sleeper, but she was hoping he wouldn't wake. She had left him a note at any rate.

She did feel kind of bad for leaving him – it had always been the two of them against the world. But right now she also needed to think about herself: truth was, she was in more danger around him than not. And she knew that he'd most likely end up at the Weasleys' house again soon. Jessa knew now better than ever before not to be the only Potter left at Number 4 Privet Drive.

She stayed as quiet as she could, slipping out of the door, hefting the trunk behind her. She didn't dare roll it against the gravel.

Only once she was far enough away, did she dare put it down. She was panting from the effort. She then took her wand out. Jessa knew she couldn't use it outside of school, but just in case, it was probably better to still have it out.

Jessa pulled her too big sweatshirt around her, shivering in the cool night air. She then decided to try something, not even sure where the thought came to her.

She was already in trouble for supposedly using magic outside of school. So Jessa took out her wand and held it out, thinking hard about wishing for transportation.

Suddenly, light seemed to shine directly behind her closed eyes. Opening her eyes, she saw headlights to a purple double-decker bus in fronter of her.

A tall, thin man got out and introduced himself as 'Stan Shunpike'. She was grateful when he assisted her in loading the trunk onto the bus.

When asked where she wants to go, she paused. "Is there a place in London I can stay for a bit?"

"Sure is," the man replied with a toothy grin. "Ernie, next stop: the Leaky Cauldron."