Chapter 2 Aunt Marge's Big Mistake

The next morning Harry and Lizzy went down to breakfast to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome home for the summer present for Dudley. He had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room.

Ever since he got that TV Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen. His piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.

Harry and Lizzy took their seats between Dudley and Uncle Vernon. Uncle Vernon was a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache. Far from wishing the twins a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed the Potter twins enter the room, they were far too used to this care.

Harry helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict.

"…the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately."

"No need to tell us he's no good," snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. "Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!"

Lizzy's POV:

Black stared straight at her as she at the TV. Gaunt face that was surrounded by a matted, elbow length tangle, deep dark eyes that made me think they were staring into my soul.

Shaking my head, I looked over at Harry and saw Uncle Vernon was giving her twin a nasty look. Uncle Vernon was always annoyed with Harry's hair saying it was untidy and a mess. But compared to the man on the TV aka 'Black' Harry was very well groomed indeed.

The reporter had reappeared.

"The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today…"

"Hang on!" Uncle Vernon barked staring furiously at the reporter. "You didn't tell us where that maniacs escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!"

Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. I knew perfectly well that Aunt Petunia would just love to be the one to call the hot line number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law abiding neighbors.

"When will they learn," Uncle Vernon spoke, pounding the table with his large purple fist. "That hangings the only way to deal with these people?" I could only roll my eyes. That isn't true.

"Very true," Aunt Petunia agreed. She was still squinting into the next doors runner beans.

It wasn't a surprise that they would agree. If only I knew more about him. Only then would she be able to decide that he truly guilty.

I felt a nudge on my side. Harry. Looking over he nodded to my breakfast. Nodding I made myself even though I wasn't all that hungry.

Uncle Vernon stood from the table walking to the sink before draining his teacup. It was rather weird since Uncle Vernon's ideal morning would be to finish his cup of tea, read the newspaper, complain about what was going on in the world and what not.

So, it was rather shocking to watch him get up from the table and empty his tea that was only half gone.

Glancing at his watch he spoke "I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten." My eyes widen in shock. "W-what?"

"Aunt Marge?" Harry blurted out. "Sh-she's not coming here, is she?"

Aunt Marge was technically not a blood relative of Harry and myself since our mom was Aunt Petunia's sister, but we had been forced to call her out 'Aunt' all our life.

She lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. It wasn't often that she would stay at Privet Drive, only because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs. I could understand that but she takes her love of her dog's way too far. Besides each visit was always so horrible that it just makes me cringe.

I remember Dudley's fifth birthday party; Aunt Marge had whacked Harry and myself around the shins with her walking stick to stop us from beating Dudley at musical statues. Not like we wanted to but Dudley was and still is not that balanced.

A few years later she came back from Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry and a bag of dog food for me. We couldn't show that we were disappointed but she made me eat the dog food…tasted like dry dirt…not like I ever ate dog food before…heh…okay maybe I have. I blame Dudley.

And on her last visit, the year before Harry and I went to Hogwarts, Harry had accidently stepped on the tail of her favorite dog. Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree. I can still feel the pain in my right arm.

Ripper has a nasty bite. I love dogs, I love almost all animals but that dog…that dog will give me nightmares. I did what I had to help Harry. Even if it meant getting hurt in the process. But knowing Aunt Marge she probably wouldn't have called Ripper off until the next week!

The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley's eyes. Laughter for him, anger from Aunt Petunia. She made me scrub the floor for making a mess with my blood.

"Marge'll be here for a week," Uncle Vernon snarled, "And while we're on the subject," he pointed a fat finger threateningly at us, "we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her."

Dudley smirked and withdrew his gave from the television. Watching us being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley's favorite form of entertainment.

"Firstly," Growled Uncle Vernon, "you'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge." I had to force myself not to roll my eyes or make a remark. I was nothing but nice to that bloody…I was nice to her and all I got in return was pain and belittlement.

"Yes sir,"

"All right," Harry said bitterly, "if she does when she's talking to us."

"Secondly," Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry's reply. It was sweet that he tried but it was like talking to a brick wall. "as Marge doesn't know anything about your abnormalities, I don't want any…any funny stuff while she's here. You behave yourselves, got me?"

"I will if she does," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"And thirdly," Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, "we've told Marge you two attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys and Girls."

"What?" Harry yelled.

"And you'll be sticking to that story, or there'll be trouble," spat Uncle Vernon.

I refused to say anything. Anything I would have said would be ignored anyway. Uncle Vernon was dead set on making Harry and I pretend we go to a correctional institute.

I knew Harry was furious, he sat there white faced staring at Uncle Vernon hardly able to believe it. Hell I could barely believe it. This had to be the worst birthday present the Dursley's had ever given us. That includes that pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks that had holes every here and there and were stained brown from his disgusting foot sweat.

"Well, Petunia," Uncle Vernon said pecking her check. "I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

"No," Dudley said. His attention had returned to the television now.

"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie," Aunt Petunia said smoothing Dudley's thick blond hair. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow tie."

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.

"See you in a bit, then," He said as he left the kitchen.

Harry who had been in a sort of trance ran from the table after Uncle Vernon. Confusion swept through my form. What is he up to?

"After Duddy's all finished clean the kitchen." Aunt Petunia snapped glaring down at me.

"Yes Aunt Petunia,"

"I want it to sparkle! Not be dull and dingy like you usually leave it." She spat turning on her heel to walk out of the room to do laundry maybe?

With Harry:

"I'm not taking you," Uncle Vernon snarled as he turned to see Harry watching him.

"Like I wanted to come," Harry said coldly. "I want to ask you something."

Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously.

"Third years at Hog…at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes," Harry started.

"So?" Uncle Vernon snapped. Taking his car keys from a hook next to the door.

"I need you to sign our permission form," Harry said in a rush.

"And why should I do that?" sneered Uncle Vernon.

"Well," Harry started, choosing his words carefully, "it'll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge that Lizzy and I go to that St. Whatsits…"

"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys and Girls!" Bellowed Uncle Vernon, and Harry was pleased to hear a definite note of panic in Uncle Vernon's voice.

"Exactly," Harry said looking calmly up into Uncle Vernon's large, purple face. "It's a lot to remember. I'll have to make it sound convincing, won't I? What if I accidentally let something slip?"

"You'll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won't you?" roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry with his fist raised. But Harry stood his ground.

"Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her," he said grimly.

Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce.

"But if you sign our permission form," Harry went on quickly, "I swear Lizzy and myself will remember where I'm supposed to go to school, and we'll act like a Mug…like we're normal and everything."

Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple.

"Right," he snapped finally. "I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Marge's visit. If, at the end of it, you've toed the line and kept to the story, I'll sign your ruddy forms."

He wheeled around, pulled open the front door, and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out.

Harry didn't return to the kitchen. He went back upstairs to his bedroom. If he was going to act like a real Muggle, he'd better start now. Slowly and sadly he gathered up all his and Lizzy's presents and birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with his homework. Then he went to Hedwig's and Godric's cages. Errol seemed to have recovered; he Hedwig and Godric were all asleep, heads under their wings. Harry sighed, then poked the three awake.

"Hedwig, Godric," he said gloomily, "You're going to have to clear off for a week. Go with Errol. Ron'll look after you. I'll write him a note, explaining. And don't look at me like that…" Hedwig's large amber eyes were reproachful. Godric looked like he was about to attack.

"It's not my fault. It's the only way Lizzy and I will be allowed to visit Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione."

Ten minutes later Errol, Hedwig (who had a note to Ron bound to her leg), and Godric who was more angry with Harry than anything soared out of the window and out of sight. Harry, now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the empty cages away inside the wardrobes.

Lizzy's POV:

It was half an hour later when I could return to my room. Since Harry had left his plate of breakfast, Dudley helped himself to a third breakfast. But when I returned to my room everything was missing. My precious owl was gone as well as Hedwig and Errol!

"What happened to Godric?!" I cried out.

"I did what I had to, I convinced Uncle Vernon that if we act like normal children he'll sign our forms for Hogsmeade." I felt torn between strangling Harry and hugging him.

I didn't know. I was mad because he did this without consulting me but I also thought it was very sweet that he's trying help us with our school trips. I had just gotten my faithful friend back and now he's gone again. I missed him already.

"Did Aunt Petunia make you clean the kitchen?" I nodded at his obvious question.

We sat together in silence waiting for the torture to begin.

It was next to no time when Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Harry and I to come down and get ready to welcome their guest.

"Do something about your hair! Get that dirt off your face!" She snapped as soon as we reached the hall. What dirt?

There wasn't a point to make ourselves look better. Aunt Marge loved criticizing us, so the untidier we looked, the happier she would be.

All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon's car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors and footsteps on the garden path.

"Get the door!" Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry, smacking him in the back of the skull in a way that said he should have done this minutes ago.

Frowning as I watched my twin walk over holding his aching head slightly, I could see the sadness in his face as he pulled the door open. My stomach twisted making me grow even more uneasy.

On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon. Large, beefy, and purple faced, she even had a mustache. It wasn't as bushy as his but it was still visible. In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil tempered bulldog.

"Where's my Dudders?" roared Aunt Marge. "Where's my neffy poo?"

Dudley came waffling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow tie just visible under his many chins. Aunt Marge thrust her suitcase into Harry's stomach and seized Dudley in a tight one armed hug, planting a large kiss on his cheek.

Walking over to Harry, I stood out of the way from Aunt Marge's view. If she didn't see us she wouldn't bother us…hopefully. Dudley looked so smug with that twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist. That was the only reason why Dudley even put up with Aunt Marge's hugs. It was because he was well paid for it.

"Petunia!" She shouted striding past Harry and I as though we were a coat and hat stand. Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunia's bony cheekbone.

Uncle Vernon came in now, smiling jovially as he shut the door.

"Tea, Marge?" he said. "And what will Ripper take?"

"Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer," said Aunt Marge as they all proceeded into the kitchen leaving Harry and myself alone in the hallway with her suitcase. I'm not complaining; any excuse to be away from Aunt Marge was fine by me.

We began our journey up the stairs taking the suitcase as long as we could into the spare bedroom. "I don't know if I can do this." I said stopping at the head of the stairs.

Harry paused looking back at me. "It'll be okay, it's just a week and she'll be gone. Soon enough we'll be back at school and won't have to worry about her anymore." Taking a deep breath I knew Harry was right. But still I hated that woman.

By the time we got back to the kitchen, Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. I saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. Aunt Petunia hated animals.

"Who's looking after the other dogs, Marge?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them," boomed Aunt Marge. "He's retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn't leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he's away from me."

Ripper began to growl as Harry and I sat down. Unfortunately this directed Aunt Marge's attention to us for the first time.

"So!" she barked. "Still here, are you?"

"Yes," Harry spoke.

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

'It's not like we wanted to be here.' I wanted to say but I kept quiet. A lot was at stake here.

I forced a smile as I stare at her.

"Don't you smirk at me!" she boomed. "I can see you two haven't improved since I last saw you. I hoped school would knock some manners into the two of you." She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache. "Where is it that you send them, again, Vernon?"

"St. Brutus's," Uncle Vernon said promptly. "It's a first rate institution for hopeless cases."

"I see," Aunt Marge said eyeing us up.

"Do they use the cane at St. Brutus's, boy?" She barked across the table.

"Er…"

Uncle Vernon nodded curtly behind Aunt Marge's back.

"Yes," Harry said.

I stepped in this time. "All the time, actually."

"Excellent," Aunt Marge said proudly. "I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is whats needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have you been beaten often?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said "loads of times."

Aunt Marge narrowed her eyes.

"I still don't like your tone, boy," she said. "If you can speak of your beating in that casual way, they clearly aren't hitting you hard enough. Petunia, I'd write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this boy's case."

Uncle Vernon looked rather worried as he spoke up changing the subject abruptly.

"Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?"

Aunt Marge was making herself more at home and it was getting harder and harder to keep this act up. Almost every step I take there she is. Staring me down like I'm carrying the black plague only instead of me giving her the disease she would often bark out suggestions of my improvement. She would always compare Harry with Dudley, she would buy Dudley expensive presents and glare at my brother and I as if to say 'Just try and asked why he got presents and you didn't.' And to top it off she kept throwing out dark hits on what made myself and Harry turn out like such an unsatisfactory people.

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

I clenched my fist to the point where my knuckles had turned white, Harry was trying to concentrate on his food but his hands were shaking and you could clearly tell he was angry. I was too. 'Remember the form' He told me to remember. 'Think about Hogsmeade.' He said. But gosh darn it! This was more difficult than you can ask a person!

Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine.

"Its 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 pup…"

At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.

"Marge!" Aunt Petunia squealed. "Marge, are you all right?"

"Not to worry," grunted Aunt Marge, mopping her face with her napkin. "Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip…"

I did my best to control my face, to not show any emotion at all.

Skipping dessert Harry and I escaped from the table as soon as we could.

I took several deep breaths outside in the hall. "Harry…"

"Yes?"

"Was that you or me?"

"I'm not sure…we can't lose our control like that again."

"I know…I don't want the M.O.M. to know…"

"Mom?"

"Ministry of magic. It's easier to say M.O.M."

Harry and I were still underage wizards; we were forbidden by wizard law to do magic outside of school. Taking another deep breath, I had calmed down enough to relax sort of. Yet next thing I know Harry's dragging me up the steps and out of the way as the Dursleys left the table.

The last three days have been nothing but trouble. My tongue is about to fall off from biting it so many times! Aunt Marge is killing me! Not literally of course but she's making my life here at the Dursleys even more horrible than it already is!

I wanted nothing more than to go get my potions book and study for class. I missed seeing my favorite professor almost every day. Whenever she would stare at me distastefully I'd think about my potions and what I've done. It worked alright but Harry said I looked like I was about to fall over or walk into a wall.

Finally! Finally it was the last and final day Aunt Marge would stay! Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. We got all the way through soup and salmon without a single mention of Harry or myself; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored us with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-maker company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.

"Can I tempt you, Marge?"

Aunt Marge had already had quite a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red.

"Just a small one, then," she chuckled. "A bit more than that…and a bit more…that's the ticket."

Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. It was so close. After dinner, I could escape to my room and read a book. Any book. Something to keep my mind distracted.

Uncle Vernon's angry little eyes met mine, in a way he said there was no way I would be moving. I'd have to sit it out.

"Aah," Aunt Marge said, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. "Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after…" she burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach.

"Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy," she went on, winking at Dudley. "You'll be a proper sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Vernon…"

"Now, these two here…"

She jerked her head toward Harry and I. I felt my stomach clench. Great! And dinner was going by so smoothly. I tried to think of the "Laughing Potion" as best as I could. Professor Snape told me it could be used as a torture technique as a first resort.

"These two got a mean, runty look about them. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred."

I gasped my heart broke. How could someone kill a puppy so quickly! For no reason beside that the pup looked ratty and weak.

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

I glare at the woman. I couldn't imagine my book. I couldn't.

I clutched onto Harry's sleeve as tightly as I could.

'This Potter," Aunt Marge said loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what he did?"

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

"He didn't work," Uncle Vernon said with a half glance at Harry and I. "Unemployed."

"As I expected!" said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no account, good for nothing, lazy scrounger who…"

"He was not." Harry said suddenly. The table went quiet. Harry was shaking all over. He had never felt so angry in his life.

"MORE BRANDY!" yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass. "You, boy," he snarled at Harry. "Go to bed, go on…"

"No, Vernon," hiccuped Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry's. "Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash, drunk I expect…"

"They didn't die in a car crash!" I snapped standing up glaring down at the fat old woman.

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you two to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury. "You are an 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 eyes 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.

"MARGE!" yelled Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia together as Aunt Marge's whole body began to rise off her chair toward the ceiling. She was entirely round, now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises. Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly.

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

Uncle Vernon seized one of Marge's feet and tried to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself. A second later, Ripper leapt forward and sank his teeth into Uncle Vernon's leg.

I turn on my heel with Harry heading to the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard door burst magically open as we reached it. In seconds, we heaved our trunks to the front door. Sprinting up the stairs Harry threw himself under the bed while I grabbed our hidden goods. Presents, sweets, special books.

Harry grabbed the pillowcase full of our school books and wriggled out, seized Hedwig's empty cage and tossed me Godric's cage. Dashing back downstairs to our trunks, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters.

"COME BACK IN HERE!" he bellowed. "COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!"

A reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon.

"She deserved it," Harry said, breathing very fast. "She deserved what she got. You keep away from us."

He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door.

"We're going," Harry said glaring at Uncle Vernon.

"I've had enough." I snapped in a snarl.

The next moment, we were out in the dark, quiet street, heaving two heavy trunks behind us and our cages under our arms.

So that's chapter two! Hope you all enjoyed! OH MY GOD GUYS I'M SO EXCITED TOMORROW I'M GOING TO UNIVERSAL AND GET TO GO TO HOGWARTS AND I'M JUST AGH! So if I take longer to write it's because I'm freaking out more about my adventures at Hogwarts. I cant wait to go home. To a place filled with magic and wonders. Hogwarts is my home forever and ever. Hope to hear from you all soon! Till then enjoy the story!