Chapter 210. Annoying Marge and the End of the Holiday
Harry pushed open the Dursleys' front door as the afterglow of sunset slanted across the hall floorboards.
He sighed, still unable to settle himself.
Passing through the entryway, he glanced into the house. Marge and the Dursleys were having dinner.
Harry had already eaten at Adrian Wesson's—Dobby had cooked.
A House-elf's cooking really was beyond reproach.
Just then, snatches of conversation drifted from the dining room.
"What exactly did that Black do…?" Vernon said gruffly.
"Just look at him, you can tell he's no good," Marge said, chewing as she spoke, her words muffled. "He showed up on the news at least ten times today…"
"Ah, that's what I thought as well…"
"You're quite right, dear."
Hearing the name "Black" again, Harry couldn't help feeling irritable.
He reckoned that murderer named Black must have done something truly terrible, or he wouldn't have stayed on the television for so long.
And the worse Black's crimes were, the more it proved how dangerous Harry's own situation was right now.
Thinking this, Harry slipped quietly over to the stairs.
The moment he set foot on the first step, the voices in the dining room abruptly stopped.
Vernon's voice followed at once.
"Hey, boy," he bellowed at Harry, furious, "it's dinnertime—get over here and sit down!"
Harry curled his lip and shuffled to the table.
Usually the Dursleys would be only too glad if he didn't appear at the table at all, so their doing this today was decidedly strange.
He guessed it was because Aunt Marge was here.
Sure enough, the second he sat down, Marge's cutting voice rang out.
"You're still freeloading off this household, are you?"
"Yes."
Harry answered with a blank face.
He really didn't want to talk to this woman—she was as sharp-tongued as his aunt.
Hearing Harry's reply, Marge gave a cold little laugh.
"Very good, ill-mannered brat," she said, turning her head toward Vernon. "Has he always been like this?"
Vernon set down his carving knife and said, in that familiar, malicious tone Harry knew too well, "That's exactly why he's going to St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. It's full of hopeless cases like him."
Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes.
Marge let out a piercing cackle, her fat body wobbling in the chair. "Ha! That might be the most sensible thing you've ever done, Vernon."
Then she squinted at Harry. "Do they use the cane there?"
"Yes," Harry forced himself to say, still expressionless. "The moment you get into trouble, you get a beating."
He really didn't want to, but he had his reasons for playing along.
That morning, Vernon had used the Hogsmeade permission form to threaten him: if Marge asked where he went to school, he had to say St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys.
Harry had agreed.
And so long as telling this kind of lie could spare him some hassle, he didn't mind.
After all, he didn't care.
He belonged to the wizarding world, and he would live in the wizarding world.
As for what people in the Muggle world thought of him, he couldn't care less.
Still, he was starting to regret it—Aunt Marge was even more unbearable than he remembered.
She made his stomach turn.
After that, although Harry kept backing down, Marge wouldn't let him off.
"You ought to be grateful the Dursleys took you in," she lectured in an odious tone. "If it were me, I'd have tossed you straight into an orphanage."
"Quite right," Vernon chimed in. In truth, that was what he had always thought.
Harry sighed inwardly.
He didn't know why the Dursleys had taken him in, but he had a vague idea.
It had to be the protective magic on him.
Going by how he'd been treated before, he'd have been better off in an orphanage.
If not for that protective magic, he would have moved out long ago.
If no one else, his teacher would certainly have welcomed him to stay for a while.
Dinner dragged on in a suffocating atmosphere—or so Harry felt, at any rate.
When Marge began detailing how her dogs had better manners than certain people, Harry used the excuse of tidying his room to slip back upstairs.
This time, his uncle and aunt didn't stop him.
Marge stayed at the Dursleys' for a full week—no more, no less.
In those seven days, Harry did his best to appear only morning and evening, minimising contact with that awful woman.
But on the last day, when Marge started insulting his parents, he almost couldn't stop himself from drawing his wand.
In the end, he didn't.
He knew he couldn't use spells—that would bring a lot of unnecessary trouble.
Still, a little payback was possible.
He was a wizard!
Before Marge left, Harry quietly added a few drops of a failed beauty potion to her water glass.
Three days later, he overheard Petunia on the phone, soothing a sniffling Marge—her face had broken out in stubborn lumps, and even doctors were at their wits' end.
Harry was very satisfied with that.
Those lumps would likely take a month to go down.
And Marge was highly unlikely to find an antidote in the Muggle world.
Meanwhile, Black's wanted notices continued to dominate the television and newspaper headlines.
Just in case, Harry started carrying Gulu with him at all times.
Even though Gulu spent most of the day asleep now, Harry knew that the moment he was in danger, Gulu would spring up and bite the attacker to pieces.
The little fellow was frighteningly powerful.
The holiday flew by.
All in all, the days that followed weren't too bad for Harry.
He managed to crack the assignment Adrian Wesson had set him; the potion he brewed made him grow a cat's ear.
One morning, Adrian produced a battered pair of gloves—a Portkey.
The two of them went on a three-day trip to Egypt.
Those were surely Harry's happiest three days of the summer.
Egypt really was fascinating—especially its wizarding world.
He saw all sorts of marvellous things there: dancing mummified cats, glowing scarab specimens, a crystal ball that could foresee sandstorms…
At the end, Adrian even gave him a flying carpet.
Cool as it was, Harry still preferred his Nimbus 2000.
Nothing, after all, was more exhilarating than riding a broom.
Soon, the last day of August arrived, which meant that tomorrow he would be returning to Hogwarts.
In the morning, Adrian took Harry to the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley.
Harry had arranged to meet his friends to shop together and then spend the night at the Leaky Cauldron.
It was still early, though.
After booking a room, Harry decided to wander around on his own for a bit.
Adrian had nothing else planned just then either, so he drifted along the street with Harry at random.
Like this story Leave a review ; it would really help me out a lot.
Want to Read Ahead in Advance?
Join my Patreon!
+75 Chapters
Support me in
Patreon.com/BestElysium