Corvie was not looking forward to Aunt Marge being sent to the Dursley's house for the rest of the summer holidays.
Corvie brushed a strand of gray hair out of his face, then frowned at his reflection in the mirror. Over the summer, his hair had grown shoulder-length. When Corvie was female, her hair reached his elbows, but before, when he'd been male, his hair reached his ears, but not his shoulders. Now, however, they did.
Brushing his bangs back into place, the thirteen-year-old boy went down to breakfast. HE found the Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching the brand-new TV. It had been a welcome-home gift for Dudley.
Dudley, the piggy little boy who was now complaining loudly about the long walk from the fridge to the television. Corvie sat down in between Dudley and Uncle Vernon. "Get a haircut," snarled Vernon. "Good morning to you, too, Uncle Vernon," Corvie said, snagging a biscuit from his uncle's plate. Vernon raised his hand to hit Corvie, but the boy merely raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you really want to do that?" he asked, biting into the biscuit. Vernon turned pale and hastily made to scratch the back of his head.
"That's what I thought," Corvie agreed.
"You still need to get a haircut, boy," muttered Uncle Vernon mutinously.
"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," snarled Uncle Vernon. "Lok at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!"
He shot a nasty look at Corvie whose hair was dangling dangerously close to his soup.
"The MInistry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today–"
"Hang on!" barked Uncle Vernon. "You didn't tell us where that maniac's escaped from? Wat use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!"
"Wouldn't that be something," Corvie muttered dryly. Even though he was male right now, Corvie's feminine side tended to show itself more often than not. Right now it was his feminine sassiness that was showing.
"When will they learn," Vernon muttered, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?"
"Very true," said Aunt Petunia, nodding emphatically.
"I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten.
Corvie sneered. "As long as she behaves himself, I promise not to hex anyone."
"I've already signed your–thing–so you'd better behave yourself, boy," snapped Vernon. Corvie rolled his eyes and scooted away from Uncle Vernon, then stood up, taking his plate of food with her. "I'll be upstairs for the rest of the day," he said, smirking at Uncle Vernon.
Corvie was upstairs when the door rang.
"Get the door!" screamed Aunt Petunia.
Corvie rolled his eyes, stepping downstairs and flinging open the door.
"Where's my Dudders?" shouted Aunt Marge. Corvie side-stepped her, twiddling with his spare red oak wand. "Where's my neffy-poo!"
Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered to his fat head, a bow tie under his many, numerous chins.
Corvie leaned against the hallway door frame, smirking as Aunt Petunia hugged him, kissing him on the cheek. Dudley, not Corvie.
Corvie could care less that Aunt Marge paid Dudley hugely to put up with her shenanigans. She would be going to the Levioskeys for the rest of the Summer, anyways.
"Petunia!" shrieked Aunt Marge, enveloping Aunt Petunia in a large, bone-crushing hug. She ignored Corvie like he was a hat stand or something.
"Tea, Marge?" asked Dudely, smirking.
"Yes, please," said Marge.
"What will Ripper have?" asked Petunia, moving into the kitchen.
Corvie smirked.
"Probably a cup of his own piss," he said loudly.
Marge whirled around, her face red. "SO!" she barked. "Still here, eh?"
"Where else would I be?" Corvie asked, his sass coming back to him.
"Do you still do that odd gender-shifting thing?" Marge pressed, stepping forwards, getting into Corvie' face. The boy nodded. "Of course I do," he said, smirking. And with that, he became a she. Marge whirled around and stared at Uncle Vernon. "You haven't gotten that checked by a doctor? No other decent human should be able to do that!" she snapped.
Corvie rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm hardly a decent human, am I?" she sassed. Dudley snorted and shot Corvie an appreciative smirk. Corvie and Dudley had been getting along better since he had left for his second year at Hogwarts.
"And your hair!" shouted Marge. Corvie's face was drained of color. She felt dizzy suddenly. She didn't want to go back to her first year. That cold, dark room…
"What–what about it?" she stammered, her breath suddenly coming in ragged gasps. "What did you do to it?"
"Yes, I would like to learn how you acquired such an interesting hair color," said Uncle Vernon.
Corvie suddenly felt very cold. She slumped down against the wall, and began sobbing. Tears streamed down her face, and she buried her face in her arms.
"Erm…never mind," said Uncle Vernon dismissively, as if his nephew/niece crying over a traumatic experience wasn't anything not to be concerned about.
Corvie sat in the doorframe, sobbing into her arms.
She remained like that for several hours.
Corvie walked into the kitchen, hugging herself. Marge glared at her out of the corner of her eye, and Corvie twisted her hair nervously. She fiddled with her wands before catching Aunt Petunia's pointed glare and slipped them into their holsters.
"You mustn't blame yourself about how the boy's turned out, Vernon," said Marge, drinking a large amount of brandy. "If there's something wrong with the bitch, then there'll be something wrong with the pup."
"I'm from the bitch where that bitch came from," Petunia said absently. "Not you, dear," said Marge, sneering at Corvie who shivered. "She looks well-fed, though. Has she been getting leftovers, like normal?"
Corvie murmured something under her breath. "What, girl?" snapped Marge, grabbing Corvie around the neck and pulling her closer. Corvie felt anger rising in her throat; she fingered her wand. Corvie murmured still. "WHAT?" shouted Marge, and she backhanded Corvie across the face.
Corvie snapped.
There was a loud BANG, and Aunt Marge flew backwards, unconscious. Vernon roared, throttling Corvie, but just then, Dudley pointed his finger at the man, and he went flying. Corvie gaped.
"Dudley," she said. "You–you're a wizard."
Dudley nodded shyly.
"That changes a lot," Corvie said. "You're coming with me. Come on, pack your bags. We're going away from this place.}
Aunt Petunia whimpered in the background as the two of them left without a second glance back.