Chapter two: Margie

The backyard was an extension of Penny and her mother; the layout decent and the flowers were healthy and bright. Each species was contained, though, and the Potters followed the chattering Penny through a patch of bachelor's buttons, which abruptly shifted to coneflower, which in turn morphed into shrubs of roses. Not a single plant dared transgress the hard specie lines, nor spill any part of their foliage onto the brick lining. Albus, upon closer inspection, noticed an oddly cropped rose florescence, as if a pair of shears had been passed through anything beyond the trimming.

Penny was taking great care to explain the details of each plant, as if persuading her audience why that certain species deserved the honorable position of growing in her garden. At points, her speech stumbled slightly and her features would gather at her nose as she wrestled down the disruption of her failure and her annoyance at Harry and Ginny's well-intentioned encouragement. Penny was only a few months younger than James, but was more socially aware than most adults. This propriety manifested itself in precociousness but also compulsive and insistent behavior. Circling upon the beginning of the garden once more, the girl seemed to reset herself; rapidly gathering any loose strands of hair behind her ears (she wore a bun like her mother as well) and straightening her dress from the minute angles it had shifted during the walk.

"Why my dear, that was splendid!" boomed Dudley with pride, though adding more humbly, " She gets it from Camille that's for sure." Harry couldn't hide his agreement.

Just then, Camille reappeared in the doorway. "She's home! And already found the presents!"

"Little Tyke, I remember when I got that excited for my birthdays. Now…" Dudley tenderly rubbed a thinning spot on the back of his head as Ginny snickered and nodded understandingly.

James, Albus, and Lily followed Penny and their parents inside, heading toward the crazy noises emitting from the living room. Camille bounded up the stairs, searching for a camera.

Preston had returned to the party, sulking unhappily in a salmon colored shirt that did not match his still puffy and peachy features. He now sat in puffy armchair that could've have even comfortably fit a form like Dudley's with room to spare for Harry.

James sauntered into the room and grinned at the considerably larger boy without a hint of fear, "Lovely shade of pink mate, I think I'd lose you in the roses your cousin was so polite to show us."

Penny settled near her brother and promptly stuck out her tongue in reply. The gestured was returned by all three Potter siblings. Dudley had two other children as well; dark-haired and gray-eyed Duncan, who was considerably smaller than Preston but comparably petulant, and his sister Marge. Margie was wider and greedier than the rest of her siblings put together, with watery eyes and thick lips that seemed to constantly protrude in a pout, and easily the Potters' least favorite cousin. Duncan was a year younger than Lily and Margie happened to be born just weeks before Albus which meant that the middle Potter had spent the most time acquainting himself with her overwhelming unpleasantness.

Today more than ever, Margie seemed to excrete an air of being spoiled beyond the healthy point of any child. This, Albus thought inwardly, might be because of the mountain of presents perched rather precariously around her generously proportioned body, half already unwrapped. Clasped between her pudgy fingers was a button that hurled insults when pressed and was responsible for most of the noise in the room. At every comment made, Duncan, who was balanced on an especially large present, would burst into a fit of nasty laughter, rocking the box beneath him.

"Off it Duncan," said Margie, all but overturning her younger brother from the gift, "I want to open that one now."

"Oh no Margie-pie, not that one just yet," Dudley chuckled, "Wait till your mother gets back- that one's a special present from her and I."

Albus watched as Margie's lower lip started to protrude even more and give a dangerous quiver. She looked on the brink of a tantrum before eyeing a present in Ginny's hands and smiling up at everyone with a hideously sweet face said, "Then perhaps I could open Uncle Harry's and Auntie Ginny's present?"

"Sure honey," Ginny replied, handing the present to James, "This is from all three of the children, hope you like it." James mimed retching on the small box just out of sight of his mother's view.

"Here Al, you give it to her," James whispered, shoving the box in Albus' chest.

"Mom gave it to you James,"

"You're her favorite,"

"That doesn't mean she' s my fav…"

Ginny cocked her head toward her sons' direction, "Is something wrong?" she said, casting a harsh gaze particularly in James direction.

"No mom," James said, flashing a charming smile, seemingly undaunted by his mother's glare, "Al here just wants to give Margie her present. After all she is his favorite cousin."

Lily snickered but eyed Albus sympathetically as he dejectedly gripped the present and walked over to where Margie now impatiently sat. Once he was within reach, she quickly snatched the present out of Albus' hands and he backed away, sitting up on yet another large gift. The size of the box was rather too small for her liking, Al thought, as she judged the small box with some distain. Then, after a few intense seconds of ripping and tearing, Margie suddenly stopped and, with a confused expression, lifted a palm-sized transparent ball from the mound of tattered paper. She looked up at Albus and narrowed her eyes as if he was playing some sort of joke on her. In all fairness, he thought, this wasn't from lack of experience with her magical cousins.

"Say Chromaignis, chroma- ignis" Albus said softly, pointing to the ball.

"You think I would fool myself like that?" Margie said incredulously, obviously thinking Albus was trying to make her look stupid in front of everyone. She looked at her father indignantly as if he should intervene.

"Margie-pie be calm, just say the words. Something will happen." He glanced at Harry unsure, "Right?" Harry nodded encouragingly at him and his daughter, whose face was becoming increasingly mean.

"Fine," Margie glared once more at Albus before repeating very loudly, "Chroma-Ignis!"

Instantly, the transparent ball grew black and opaque, only broken by tiny explosions of color that sparkled and popped, making the orb jump slightly in Margie's thick fingers. "Fireworks!" She exclaimed, now fixing Albus with a triumphant gleam as if to say that he could never get such an amazing present.

Harry whispered to Dudley, who wore a mixture of relief and trepidation that the incantation had worked, "I've bewitched a general command spell on it. She can tell her friends it's voice-activated. They're Cele-orbs, sort of popular with the kids these days- got them for all three of mine. Not dangerous at all."

"I see..." Dudley said slowly, his eyes still narrowed slightly at the pops and bangs coming from the toy. He whispered back, lowly, "You couldn't, you know... find anything...you know."

Al was listening quietly to the exchange, shame blooming as he listened to his father offer excuses and Dudley snarking back. Finally, he turned, finding his father somewhat redfaced and glum, "It was my idea." Shock registered on both men's faces as Al continued, "They're very popular and I just thought Margie would like it, seeing how she loves colors."

It was true that Margie's bedroom vomited just about every neon color in existence. The gleaming fireworks matched perfectly.

Dudley had the decency to look contrite, "Ah well son that was very thoughtful of you. And it looks like she loves it so thank you." He offered no such apology to his father though, Al noticed, nor did father seem to expect any. Harry was roaming up and down the pile of presents with a distinctly nostalgic expression and something else. Al thought it was envy but it seemed so out of place, he dismissed it, turning back to his cousin, who was animatedly practicing how she would gloat about her toy to her friends.

"Oh this will get Paulina in a tizzy I know it." She grinned evilly at the thought of making her best friend, jealous, "She always brags about having the nicest things. Well I bet she'll drag her parents all through London trying to find one of these!"

"Can I see it sis?" Duncan, who had been glowering on the floor under his other siblings from his unceremonious dump from Margie's present now seemed mesmerized by the little orb. In greedy instinct, Margie initially pulled the firework ball closer to herself, though after a moment turned to Duncan and plopped the ball in his lap.

A sudden rush of movement followed as James had successfully launched a wad of paper toward the armchair, squarely striking Penny in the nose and erecting another bout of giggles from Lily. Just as Penny gave a screech of surprise, her mother burst through the kitchen door that led from the garage. Dudley all hurried to greet her as Ginny accosted James and Lily, who were quickly balling up more projectiles, leaving Albus to notice Margie's brief action. Duncan clasped the little orb carefully, and remained unmoving in the chaos around him, blinking rapidly as if trying to understand or recall something. Al glanced up at the other strangely still character in the room. Harry was also considering the youngest Dursley and Al couldn't help but notice the distinct fear that tightened his father's features and tensed the knuckles grasping his knee.

Camille appeared and placed the first of the family's presents in Margie's lap, who gave a squeal of delight. Harry looked up and saw Al staring, an impassive shield melting the emotion in his features away. This happened a lot, Al thought, ever since... well Al didn't want to think about that, not here. Someday though, perhaps the puzzle pieces with his father would make sense.

Lily crossed the room to Harry and beamed at him, whispering something that Al could not hear. Harry chuckled and reached into his pocket procuring a pistachio chocolate and holding his daughter tightly. Calm.