WILDEST DREAM ➛ʜ.ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡɪɴ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ

001

"So!" Aunt Marge barked. "Still here, are you?"

"Yes" we said.

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

Aunt Marge, the most hated aunt, although she is not blood related but we are forced to call her aunt, she and her precious dog has been coming around for the last year and with the events happening when she visited was not very fancy to us. She has came to spend week for now and Vernon told us not to slip anything about our magic stuffs.

I have always pranked her, which in return she gave me a slap and i stayed in the cupboard for a month and she got away from the house right away.

I don't care, I just love to annoy her.

I was about to burst to say that they'd rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but Harry kept his hand on my hand and warned me.

We gave them a tight painful smile.

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

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

"I see," said Aunt Marge. "Do they use the cane at St. Brutus's, you two?" she barked across the table.

Uncle Vernon nodded curtly behind Aunt Marge's back.

"Yes," said Harry.

"All the time." I nodded completing him.

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

"Oh yes, very often." Harry nodded.

"I swear to god I have this big big scar on my back..very painful." I said sarcastically.

"This girl is flying too much, isn't she?," she said. "If you can speak of your beatings 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 their case."

I was about to speak when Uncle Vernon stopped me by changing the topic of the escape man.

We were jow eating the dinner with Marge talking rubbish as expected.

"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 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!" squealed Aunt Petunia. "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..."

But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking at us suspiciously, so we decided he'd better skip dessert and escape from the table as soon as we could.

We stood outside the hall with a sigh as we looked at them. We both had been controlling our power and if we break it then our trip would be cancelled.

I don't give a damn about trip, all I care about is to get this bitch out of the house.

We looked at eachother and sighed "A week now."

Just like this, a week passed and in this days I tried really hard not to do any prank with her or saying anything to her.

It was the last day of the week, after that Marge will finally go away. We are now eating dinner with Vernon and Marge having tons of brand wines. Their face were already red of so much drinking.

"........Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia" she patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovellike 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 result right in front of us."

I was pocking the desert with my fork as I sighed heavily.

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

"He -- didn't work," said Uncle Vernon,
"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" we said through gretting our teeth.

The table felt silent but Vernon tried to mess it up but Marge was not letting it go.

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

'They didn't die in a car crash!" said Harry, who found himself on his feet.

"And he was not an alcohol addicted like you." I said, standing up as well.

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you 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. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger -- but the swelling didn't stop. She started to blow up, her buttons opening up

"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 now round, completely.

Where I was laughing hysterically  at her face when she saw me laughing. 

Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly.

"NOOOOOOO!"

We both ran upstairs and started to pack our truck. After doing so, we ran outside.

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

I gave him a death glare while Harry pointed his wand at him.

"She deserved it," Harry said, breathing very fast.

"She deserved what she got. And now we have had enough!" I stated and with that we ran out of the house.