~always by your side~ Harrypotterxreader

Aunt Marge

Harry's POV

I woke up around nine to the sound of a loud woman's voice. I assumed it had come from the new television set up by the diner table. Dudley has revived it for his birthday and since then, hadn't gone two hours without staring at the screen.

In the dining room, uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia and Dudley were munching on some toast and slurping coffee, orange juice for Dudley. The t.v had a reporter on the side walk with a microphone and blazer around her shoulders.

"The public is warned that a man named Sirius Black has escaped prison and is armed and dangerous. A special hotline has been set up and any signing of Black should be reported immediately" the woman spoke siriusly. I didn't care to look up at the mans photo that was now placed on t.v but it was intriguing to me how they never mentioned the prison. I bet I could ask one of the girls about him later.

"Bollocks! They didn't even tell us which crazy jail he escaped from!" Shouted Vernon, his pudgy face jiggling when pounding an inflated fist against the table.

"Vernon! Watch your tone, we are eating breakfast" aunt Petunia said, agonized by her husbands behaviour at such an early hour. "Yes dear" he muttered, knocking the table back a tad as the circular man stood, trotting towards the fridge and shoving me along the way. With another quick glance around the fridge for anymore sweets, the man, I was forced to call my uncle, looked at his wrist which displayed a leather watch and made a weird surprised noise. "I best be off, Marge's train will be here in ten".

My mind, which had been flying through the one am visit from y/n, was suddenly brought back down to earth at the name. "Aunt Marge?!" I asked, more loud than I had intended. "She's not coming here. Is she?".

Marge was uncle Vernons sister. Both siblings had puffy hands and stomachs, pale skin with a purple undertone, and the personality of a cow. I remember the times she had come, mostly for special occasions like Dudleys birthday or Christmas, but never for anything to do with me.

When I was five, she had come with her bulldog and stayed two days. During those forty-eight hours, the woman had managed to make my life more of a living hell then it already was. I was a butler to the bitch and her dog. Constantly running back and forth to get wine, cake and napkins for whenever my uncle made a joke and it was just too funny that she "accidentally" spilled her glass. Mind you, this was during Christmas so she brought gifts. A new blender for the adults, a red fire truck for Duddleykins and, some dishwashing gloves for me.

Let's just say, she's not my favourite person.

"Yes. Marge'll be here for one week" uncle Vernon sneered, flickering his gaze to my scarred forehead before meeting my eyes. "And while we're on the topic,  I'd like to make a few things clear before I go get her" he said with an evil grin. Aunt Petunia stood from the table to met her husbands side. I mentally rolled my eyes but waited for him to keep talking.

"Firstly, you'll keep a decent tongue when talking to Marge" he said. "If she does the same when talking to me" I growled back. "Secondly, since she does not know about any of your abnormality, I don't want any funny business. You'll behave yourself, understood?" I wanted to laugh at his wording; for he couldn't muster up the courage to say magic. "I will if she does" I said back once again. Vernons face began to redden with anger but he acted as though he hadn't heard me. "And thirdly, we've told Marge you attend St Brutus Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys".

"What?!" I practically yelled. "Are you mental?"

"You'll be sticking to that story boy, or they'll be trouble" the man spat. I was furious. A whole week with Aunt Marge was equal to a year of potion classes. "Fine" I sneered back.