Memory's Prisoner

Chapter 10: Marge Balloon

"Blimey mate, can't we make these memories go slower?"

"Probably not, because I want this over as quickly as possible. The next one shouldn't be so bad. Nothing terrible really happens in third year," Harry shrugged.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy's turned out, Vernon," Marge said over lunch. "If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it."

Harry tried to concentrate on his food, but his hands shook and his face was starting to burn with anger. Marge reached for her glass of wine.

"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 Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping.

"Marge!" squealed 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..."

The children spluttered in anger, but knew they could do anything about it, so they settled down to continue watching the memory.

The final evening of Marge's stay arrived, Petunia cooked a fancy dinner, and Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Harry's faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Vernon bored them all with a long talk about Grunnings; then Petunia made coffee and Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.

"Can I tempt you, Marge?"

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. Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out. Harry really wanted to disappear into his bedroom, but he met Vernon's angry little eyes and knew he would have to sit it out.

"Aah," said Marge, 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, this one here --"

She jerked her head at Harry, who felt his stomach clench.

"This one's got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing, it was weak. Underbred."

Memory Harry appeared to not be breathing as he tried not to blow up the woman.

"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 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."

"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?"

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

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

The observers were getting steadily angrier at memory as it played out. They could already see present Harry shaking as he glared at the woman.

"As I expected!" said 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," said Harry suddenly.

The table went very quiet. Harry was shaking all over. He had never felt so angry in his life.

"MORE BRANDY!" yelled Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Marge's glass.

"You, boy," he snarled at Harry. "Go to bed, go on --"

"No, Vernon," hiccuped 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!" said Harry, who found himself on his feet.

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

But Marge had 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.

"GET HER, HARRY!" the Weasley twins cheered loudly.

"MARGE!" yelled Vernon and Petunia together as 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.

"NOOOOOOO!" 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 Vernon's leg. Harry tore from the dining room before anyone could stop him, heading for the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard door burst magically open as he reached it. In seconds, he had heaved his trunk to the front door. He sprinted upstairs and threw himself under the bed, wrenching up the loose floorboard, and grabbed the pillowcase full of his books and birthday presents. He wriggled out, seized Hedwig's empty cage, and dashed back downstairs to his trunk, just as 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!"

But 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 me."

He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door.

"I'm going," Harry said. "I've had enough."

And in the next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him, Hedwig's cage under his arm.

"Wooo! That was great!"

The kids were ecstatic to see Harry's relatives finally get what they deserved. Harry smiled as Ron hugged him, laughing, while the Slytherins smiled smugly at Marge's misery.