Hazel woke to the song of morning birds and the happy hooting of Hedwig and Errol, safely back on their perch. She stretched and sighed in contentment. That had been the best night's sleep since the summer had started. It was amazing what a piece of good news could do for you.

Then she checked the clock on her bedside table. She'd slept in! Alot!

She leapt out of bed like it was on fire and hurried to put her things away. Her presents were taken from the bedside and placed carefully in her trunk. The Dursleys never came into their room anymore but she still wanted to be safe. Just in case.

Harry was already up. Thank goodness. He would make sure Dudley was fed for her. Because it would be a disaster if her cousin's food wasn't ready for him waking up.

Everyone was already in the kitchen. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were sitting at the table while Aunt Petunia stood at the window, pretending to dust the windowsill while actually looking out into the street. It was a particular skill of hers. Harry was of course tending to the stove. The Dursleys didn't make her or Harry do as much of the chores anymore but this was one they were trusted with. The kitchen smelt of freshly fried bacon.

Uncle Vernon looked over his newspaper at her with his brow furrowed.

"You're late," He said gruffly, "Don't they teach punctuality at that ruddy…place?"

"Sorry, Uncle Vernon. I slept in."

He snorted, "Layabouts, just like I thought. No manners whatsoever."

Dudley belched loudly and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Clearly manners still weren't very high on Smeltings priority list. At least he wasn't walking around hitting anyone with his stick anymore. He had somehow grown to twice his previous size over the past year, as if that was possible. The chair was creaking alarmingly every time he moved.

"More bacon!" He demanded without taking his eyes off the television in the corner of the kitchen. A true gentleman.

"Hurry up!" Aunt Petunia snapped at Hazel, "Diddy-kins is starving!"

'Diddy-kins' was a lot of things, but starving wasn't one of them. Hazel sighed as she took over from Harry at the stove. There were two packs of bacon in the pan and two empty packs in the bin. All for Dudley. At this rate they were going to have to roll him up back to Smeltings. The bacon smelt wonderful but her stomach turned at the fat floating in the pan.

Dudley was welcome to it. The Hogwarts bacon was so much nicer.

She was just sitting down at the table with the platter of bacon in one hand and a fresh pot of tea in the other when Uncle Vernon gave a loud tut. He liked to tut loudly when there was something that annoyed him in the paper, which, because he was Uncle Vernon, was every single day. Maybe it was the bins not being collected in Upper Hangling again.

"They've still not caught that maniac," He shook his head, "Listen to this, 'The police have again warned the public against approaching Sirius Black. He is known to be in possession of a firearm and is extremely dangerous. Since his escape yesterday, there have been no sightings of Black, but the police are following several leads and are confident he will be recaptured shortly. The public are urged to be extra vigilant and to immediately report any sightings.'. Where did a nutter like that get a gun? And where is he? No word yet about where he escaped from. He could be walking down the street for all we know!"

Aunt Petunia glanced out the kitchen window hopefully. That would certainly make for more interesting gossip than whatever no.6 Privet Drive kept arguing about, that was for sure.

Uncle Vernon started ranting about Upper Hangling's bins with the same energy as the criminal on the loose, because the two were equal in his mind, and Hazel went back to her cereal. Once she'd finished her chores, she could get back to her book. What was going on in the wizarding word? Were wizards up in arms about their bins as well? Maybe she'd ask Ginny in her letter how to get a copy of the Daily Prophet delivered. It would need to be a night delivery though. She dreaded to think of what Uncle Vernon would think of a paper being delivered by owl in broad daylight.

Uncle Vernon checked his watch, "Better head off. Marge's train will be arriving soon."

Clang! Hazel dropped her spoon into her cereal.

"Aunt Marge?" Harry choked, "She's coming here?"

"Marge is staying the week," Uncle Vernon glared at him, like he always did when Harry dared to ask questions, "And before I go. I want to talk to you. Now."

He led Harry from the kitchen. Hazel's mouth had gone very dry.

Not Aunt Marge. Anything but that.

She was Uncle Vernon's sister, and so technically not related to Hazel or Harry but she had always been 'Aunt' Marge.

She disliked Harry intensely.

But she hated Hazel.

She had last stayed the year before Harry had started Hogwarts and it had been the worst week of her life. How she had ever slept during those seven days, she had no idea.

And now she was coming again. For a whole week.

Brilliant.

"Hazel," Harry popped his head back into the kitchen, "Can I speak to you?"

She followed him numbly.

"I've got good news," he said once they were in the hall.

"Uncle Vernon's sending us to an orphanage for the week," She wasn't even fussy. Any orphanage would do.

"No," he furrowed his eyebrows, "Uncle Vernon's agreed to sign my permission slip for Hogsmeade."

"Great."

"He'll sign it when Aunt Marge leaves. All we have to do is be nice to her."

"Oh, is that all?"

"Hazel," Harry pleaded, "Please. I'll be the only Third Year not going to Hogsmeade if Uncle Vernon doesn't sign that form. It's only for a week."

Hazel rolled her eyes and sighed. This week was going to be torture from start to finish, but if it meant Harry could get to Hogsmeade with his friends, if it meant he would be happy, then it was worth it.

Even if it meant dealing with Aunt Marge.

"Alright," she said, "Alright."

"Great!" He gave her a big hug, "Just one thing, Uncle Vernon's told her that we go to St. Brutus' Secure Centre for the Incurably Criminal. So that's where we go every term."

"It sounds wonderful," It really didn't, "I'll be sure to look especially down beaten."

"And we need to send Hedwig away, so if you want to write to Ginny, you'll have to do it now."

She had chores to do and the kitchen was a mess, but this was going to be her last chance to do something fun for the next week, so she followed Harry upstairs.

The letter was short and sweet.

Hi Ginny,

I'm really glad you're enjoying Egypt. It sounds like great fun! I can't wait to hear about everything when we meet up! Did you enjoy the quidditch match? Was Gwenog Jones as tall as you thought she was? I hope the Harpies won, it seems a very long way to go just to lose the match.

The muggles have been okay so far this summer. My aunt's coming to stay and it's going to be absolutely horrible, but it's only for a week so I should be okay.

I've not heard from Atia all summer. I hope she's okay. We should be okay to visit Diagon Alley for the last week of summer. I can't wait to see you and your brothers again! Life is so awfully boring without self-driving cars and dishes that wash themselves.

Enjoy the rest of your holidays!

Hazel

p.s. I said hi to Harry for you and it was super casual. You're welcome.

She wrapped the parchment up and attached it to one of Hedwig's legs while Harry wrapped his around the other.

"Sorry," She said to Errol as he hooted indignantly, "But it'll be a long way back to Egypt. It might be easier for Hedwig to carry them."

Hedwig gave a hoot as Harry stoked her beak, "Just stay with the Weasleys for the next week. Trust me, you don't want to be here when Aunt Marge is."

"Does anyone want to be here when Aunt Marge is?" Hazel added as Hedwig took off and disappeared into the clouds with Errol, "How about I hide up here all week, and you can tell her that I've been locked up. She'd love that."

"Uncle Vernon's already told her we're home," Harry sighed, "Because I was thinking about doing the same thing."

So, there was no way out of it. Hazel went back down to the kitchen where Aunt Petunia was cleaning the table and Dudley still sat at the table with yet more bacon. He'd eaten more bacon just this morning that the whole of Gryffindor House had all last term!

She got to work washing the dishes and keeping an eye on the clock. Why was time moving so fast? Of course, the one time she wanted something to take forever, it was flying by. Why hadn't this happened at any other point in the summer!

Far too quickly came the sound of gravel crunching out in the driveway.

"She's here!" Aunt Petunia said sharply, "Come along!"

Harry was already waiting when they arrived in the hall. Hazel played with her fingers behind her back while Dudley chewed his breakfast right in her ear. The butterflies were fluttering in her stomach and not in a good way.

Uncle Vernon came through the door first with a suitcase, and Aunt Marge followed him. They were remarkably alike, from eyes to jowls to moustache. She was holding a bulldog under her arm the same way a child would carry a teddy bear. Only teddy bears normally didn't have so many teeth or look so bad-tempered.

"There's my Duders!" She barked and took Dudley in a crushing hug, kissing him wetly on the cheek. Gross.

Dudley said nothing. He was waiting for, yup. When they parted, he had a new, shiny, grease-covered twenty-pound note in his hand.

"Petunia, how lovely to see you," Aunt Marge gave Aunt Petunia a bony kiss on the cheek and then looked at Harry.

"You're still here, then."

"Hello, Aunt Marge," he said perfectly pleasantly.

"Don't you take that tone with me," Aunt Marge snapped and threw her case into his stomach, "Take that up to my room. Away with you!"

He hauled it upstairs. Hazel caught his eye and saw a look of sympathy as Aunt Marge turned to look at her.

Here we go…

Aunt Marge looked her up and down, as if she was buying a sheep at market and shook her head, "You're even uglier than I remember. Funny how the mind blanks out trauma."

Hazel's stomach dropped horribly.

"Did you jump backwards through a hedge? What on earth have you done with your hair?"

"I didn't get a chance to brush it-"

"Did I ask you to speak?" Aunt Marge roared and Hazel flinched at the sudden fury, "You insolent little brat! How dare you show up your uncle and aunt with such rudeness! It's bad enough to look like a scuff without acting like one as well!"

Thump! Harry had dropped the case at the top the stairs, she knew it.

"Marge!" Uncle Vernon said hurriedly, "You must be thirsty. Would you like a drink?"

"Yes," She turned away from Hazel like she didn't even exist, anger gone, "It was a long journey, Vernon. I'll take a tea. Or something stronger if you have it!"

They all followed Vernon in the kitchen and left Hazel alone in the hall. A hand came up to her head, shaking fingers running through her hair. Did it really look that bad? She bit her lip to keep it from quivering. She didn't think it was possible, but Aunt Marge had gotten even worse since her last visit.

A deep breath. It was only a week. She could do it!

She checked herself in the hall mirror before going into the kitchen and combed her hair as best she could with her fingers.

Aunt Marge had taken her chair at the table with a large mug of steaming tea in front of her. Dudley had gone back to eating his bacon.

"Whole place needs fumigated," Aunt Marge was saying, "Absolutely riddled. I've left the dogs with Colonel Fuster. He knows how to keep them in check. I couldn't leave Ripper behind. He pines when I'm not with him."

Ripper was drinking from a bowl and covering Aunt Petunia's immaculate floor in specks. She looked about as happy as Hazel felt.

Dudley gave a loud burp.

"Good man, Duders," she boomed, "I like to see a man with an appetite. It shows ambition!"

Hazel could feel Aunt Marge's eyes burning into her as she went back to the sink.

"This one, on the other hand, looks like a twig, a proper little runt. What school did you say they were attending, Vernon?"

"St Brutus'," He said hurriedly with a look at Hazel, "For the incurably criminal."

"Best place for her. I suppose there was nowhere more severe. You!"

"Yes, Aunt Marge?" She tried to meet her eyes but instinctively looked down at the floor.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you! What do they feed you at St Brutus'?"

She thought of the Hogwarts feasts, the wonderful breakfasts, the sumptuous puddings.

"Gruel, Aunt Marge. Three times a day."

She would need to tell Harry that as well.

"Good!" Aunt Marge nodded, "I hate to think my taxes are being wasted on someone like you. Why are you gawping? Keep your eyes down! Don't they teach you any respect at that school!"

Every day was the same, for the entire week.

There was no escaping either. The Dursleys liked Harry and Hazel to be out of sight as much as possible but not Aunt Marge. She particularly enjoyed having Hazel nearby at all times, just so she could torment her.

Nothing was off-limits to Aunt Marge. Her hair ("A terrible style, it makes her look cheap, Petunia"), her eyes ("They're such a weak colour, I've never seen such an ill child."), her voice ("Horrible accent. Makes my skin crawl every time she speaks"), even her breathing ("Does she have to snort through her nose like that?")

Harry did his best to draw her attention, but it was no use. It never was. Aunt Marge was like a dog with a bone.

There were times that she didn't say anything, but just laughed at her. Those were the worst ones. Like Hazel was just a massive joke.

It was only when she settled into bed, when she was sure Harry was asleep, that she let the tears come. It was like being punched over and over again. Nothing was ever good enough. Nothing would ever be good enough.

She had to hide it. If Harry knew how miserable she was, then he couldn't take it, she knew he couldn't. If he did anything to ruin his deal with Uncle Vernon then he would never get to Hogsmeade, and that would be worse than all of Aunt Marge's insults.

No, she could hold on. It was only for a few more days.

She thought of Hogwarts, of Ginny and the Common Room. She tried to think of what Mrs Weasley would do, other than kick Aunt Marge to France. That thought made her laugh. That was enough.

But things were starting to crack.

On the evening of the sixth night, and Hazel went to clear the table as she usually did after dinner. As she went to take Aunt Marge's plate she laughed right in her face like a half-blocked drain and Hazel flinched.

"She's a jumpy little runt," Aunt Marge seemed pleased with herself as she picked up her glass, "Wouldn't say boo to a goose. I've no time for wastrels like that, no spine whatsoever. She's a horrible little coward."

Anger surged up within her from nowhere a split second before…

The glass shattered in Aunt Marge's hand.

"Marge!" Uncle Vernon shouted, "Are you alright?"

"Not to worry, Vernon," She waved him away, "I have a very firm grip. Same thing happened at Bridge just last month. I will need another glass."

"Get her another glass," Uncle Vernon barked at Harry, "Then you two. Upstairs."

"No, no," Aunt Marge said, "Let this one get it. If she can even lift a glass, that is."

Hazel went to fetch another glass from the cupboard as Harry furiously scrubbed the dishes in the sink,

"What are you doing?" She hissed at him.

"I don't know, it just happened," He whispered back, "I just got really angry."

"I know," It was still weird that she could feel when he was angry like that, "But if it happens again, Uncle Vernon won't let you go to Hogsmeade!"

"But she can't just talk to you like that."

"I'll be okay," She smiled. Hopefully he couldn't see how much it hurt to be called a runt, over and over again, "It's just one more day."

"Fine."

At last, Aunt Marge's final night came around. Aunt Petunia cooked a huge three-course meal and Uncle Vernon seemed to have bought every bottle of wine in the country. Everything was actually going okay. Everyone was enjoying the food and Aunt Marge was too busy complaining about the 'foreigners' who had moved in nearby to bother her or Harry.

Plus, Hazel had a new strategy. She waited until Aunt Marge was fussing over Dudley before taking her plate. It worked like a charm, just like it had at lunch.

Yes! One bullet dodged.

"Sherry, Marge?" Uncle Vernon asked as the last dish was cleared.

"I really shouldn't," Aunt Marge's words were running together, "Oh go on then. I'll say when. A bit more than that. More. There we are! That was top nosh, Petunia. Really excellent. It's normally a fry for me on a Friday night. With so many dogs to manage it's all I have time for."

It was getting late. Maybe they would actually get away with it. Maybe Aunt Marge was finally in too good a mood to rip her to shreds. She had never wanted to finish washing dishes so quickly in her life. Harry was sitting with a distant look, thinking about his broom kit or quidditch probably.

Not long to go…and they'd finally be free…

"And how is Smeltings going, Dudley?" Aunt Marge asked loudly.

Dudley shrugged. He was more interested in the television as always.

"That's exactly right!" She slammed the table, "Exams are overrated! Useless in the real world! You need men with real grit to get ahead! For someone like Duders, the world is his oyster. He'll walk into any job he wants!"

Hazel looked up at exactly the wrong time and caught Aunt Marge's eye.

Here we go.

"What are you doing?" She snapped.

Hazel didn't take the bait. She hardly washed dirty dishes as a hobby.

Harry was watching with furrowed brows but no one else noticed. Everyone else was watching her.

"It's good practise that!" Aunt Marge tried to pour herself more sherry but spilt more of it on the table, "This is the best someone like that can hope for. This or the streets. Especially if she keeps her hair like that!"

Her stomach dropped horribly, and she looked down at the dishes. How could anyone say something so horrible?

Anger was starting to grow in the pit of her stomach. Harry's mouth was set in a hard line. She tried to catch his eye without Aunt Marge noticing.

Harry, no…

"Looking away again," Aunt Marge snorted, "Ones like this make me sick. No spine to them whatsoever."

If only she knew. If only any of them knew. She wasn't spineless!

But, a horrible little voice, what if you are?

Maybe Aunt Marge was right. Maybe she was just worthless after all. Good for nothing. A coldness came over her. How many times could she keep hearing it before she just gave up and accepted it?

Runt…

"Of course, you mustn't blame yourselves," Aunt Marge went on, "You did your best but sometimes there's nothing you can do. It's all down to breeding! What did the mother do?"

"Didn't work," Uncle Vernon said nervously.

"I thought not. Sponged off honest, hard-working people like me and you! This one will end up the same! A good-for-nothing drain on society!"

Hazel's hands were shaking. This had nothing to do with Harry.

"Marge," Aunt Petunia looked like she was chewing on a wasp, "I think that's enough."

"Nonsense, Petunia. It has to be said! I see this all the time with the dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, then there's usually something wrong with the pup."

"Shut up!"

There was a stunned silence at the table. It wasn't Harry who had shouted.

It was her.

She was breathing heavily. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage.

"Go to your room!" Uncle Vernon barked, "Now!"

"No, no, Vernon," Aunt Marge sneered, "So the bitch's runt has some bark."

"Don't you call my mum a bitch," Her voice was shaking.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" Aunt Marge roared and knocked the sherry from the table as she banged her fist, "You are a waste of oxygen, just like that husband of hers! No wonder they ended up dying in that car crash. Pair of absolute idiots."

Crash! Harry jumped up and slammed his chair to the floor.

Aunt Marge swelled up in outrage. Then kept swelling. And swelling. She was twice her normal size now.

What was happening?

Had she done that?

She had changed gravy green once and accidentally shattered a potions bottle one time, but she'd never done anything like this…

Aunt Marge was floating out of her chair and towards the open doors. Uncle Vernon tried to grab her and missed as she disappeared into the night sky. He ran out into the garden, jumping to try and reach her.

Oh no…

Harry had disappeared, storming upstairs and kicking everything on his way. The anger pounding like a hammer inside her. It couldn't just be his. No one could feel this angry…

Uncle Vernon came thundering back through the kitchen without Aunt Marge and into the hallway.

"Bring her back!" He bellowed.

"No!" Harry was standing at the bottom of the stairs. She had never seen him with such an ugly expression. It reminded her a little of Tom Riddle, in the Chamber of Secrets, "She deserved it! I'm not staying here a second longer!"

"You're not going anywhere until you fix this!" Uncle Vernon roared.

Harry pointed his wand right at Uncle Vernon.

"Harry!" She shouted. He was starting to scare her, "Stop!"

He looked at her with eyebrows raised, like he hadn't noticed her before. Without another word he threw the door open and strode out into the night.

"You!" Uncle Vernon turned to her, "You're…like him. You fix it!"

"I can't," She didn't even know what he'd done. Did he even know what he'd done?

"Go and fix it," Uncle Vernon said through gritted teeth. His face was purple, and the vein was pulsing in his temple, "Now!"

The backdoor was still open, but there was no sign of Aunt Marge. Harry was disappearing down the street. She could just make him out in the streetlights.

A deep breath.

And she ran out after him.