AUNT MARGE THE HOT AIR BALLOON!

AUGUST 1993

3rd Year

• • • •

Annabelle let out a grunt as she climbed through the window of her and Harry's bedroom, accessing it via a ladder.

"You're cutting it close." Harry told his sister as he helped her in the room.

"I know, I'm sorry," Annabelle cringed, "Nev and I just lost track of time."

"Of course you did." Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.

Before Annabelle was able to ask what he meant by that, the doorbell started ringing multiple times.

Harry sighed, "This is going to be torture."

Annabelle nodded, sucking in a breath, "Indeed."

The doorbell kept ringing as the twins went downstairs, as Petunia rolled her eyes, glaring at her niece and nephew.

"Harry! Annabelle! One of you open the door."

The oldest Potter let out a heavy sigh, before he opened the front door.

It was raining outside and Aunt Marge exhaled as she brought her umbrella down, shoving it into Annabelle's arms, making her grimace as the rain water got her clothes all wet. The woman passed the foyer and went into the kitchen, where Aunt Petunia stood, waiting. Aunt Marge's pet bulldog Ripper was on a leash, which Marge had also chucked at Annabelle upon her entrance. Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia exchanged greetings, as Ripper looked up at the redhead holding his lead, Annabelle smiling and stroking his head fondly.

Meanwhile, Harry unfolded a small parchment from his pocket, while Uncle Vernon takes off his car coat.

"Uncle Vernon, I need you to sign this form." Harry told the man.

"What is it?" Vernon grunted.

"Nothing," Harry shrugged, "School stuff. The same form that you signed for Annabelle yesterday."

"Yes, well she made herself scarce this summer," Vernon hummed, "Later, perhaps, if you behave."

"I will if she does." Harry said, glaring over at Aunt Marge, as his sister joined his side in the doorway.

Aunt Marge snarled, "Oh, you're still here, are you?"

"Yes." Harry replied.

"Don't say 'yes' in that ungrateful way. Damn good of my brother to keep you," Aunt Marge told him, before turning to Vernon and saying, "They'd have been straight to an orphanage if he'd been dumped on my doorstep, Vernon. Well, maybe not the girl. She gets things done."

Annabelle glanced up at Harry, putting a comforting hand on his arm, only for him to walk off to the kitchen, making his sister frown, as Marge began to fuss over Dudley.

After dinner, Harry and Annabelle cleared the dishes as Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.

"Can I tempt you, Marge?" Vernon asked his sister.

"Just a small one. A bit more... a bit more... That's the boy," She smiled, taking a sloppy sip of her drink, before turning to address her sister-in-law, "Aah. Excellent nosh, Petunia." She complimented, smacking her lips and lowering her brandy, letting Rippertake a slobbery lap out of the glass, before catching Harry and Annabelle looking at the scene in front of them, Annabelle with distain and Harry with a small smirk.

"What are you smirking at!" Marge snarled, making the Potters look away, "Whereis it that you send them, Vernon?"

"St. Brutus' and St. Anne's," Vernon lied, "Both first-rate institutions for hopeless cases."

Hearing that, Harry and Annabelle frowned at each other, glancing at Uncle Vernon, who glared darkly back at them. 

"I see. And do they use the cane at St. Brutus's, boy?" Marge asked Harry.

Harry saw the look Vernon was giving him, nodding sarcastically, "Oh, yes. I've been beaten loads of times."

"Excellent. I won't have this namby-pamby wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it," Marge nodded, taking another sip, as Harry and Annabelle turned around, the boy leaning back on the counter, whilst his sister started cleaning up the dishes by the sink, "Still. Mustn't blame yourself for how these ones turned out, Vernon. It all comes down to blood. Bad blood will out. What is it the boy's father did, Petunia?"

Annabelle glanced at her brother, who's grip on the counter seemed to be getting tighter and tighter.

Petunia cleared her throat, seeming almost agitated, "Nothing. That is... he didn't work. He was -- unemployed."

Marge scoffed, "Of course. And a drunk, I expect-"

"That's a lie." Harry said through gritted teeth, making Annabelle pause from cleaning the glass in her hand.

Aunt Marge paused on her wine, eyes narrowing at Harry.

"What did you say?" She asked, her voice sounding dangerous.

"My dad wasn't a drunk." The boy seethed.

Everyone then jumped when the glass in Aunt Marge's hand exploded.

Aunt Petunia gasped, "Oh my goodness! Marge!"

"Not to worry, Petunia. I have a very firm grip." Marge told her.

Harry stared at the shattered glass in surprise.

Vernon glared at the boy, "I think it's time you ought to go to bed."

"Quiet, Vernon," Aunt Marge told her brother, gesturing for Harry to clean up the glass, which he did, as Annabelle nervously watched her brother's movements, "It doesn't matter about the father. In the end it comes down to the mother. You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup."

Annabelle's jaw clenched and she bit her tongue to keep her form responding, but Harry had had enough.

Harry threw the broken glass and tea towel that was in his and onto the floor, "Shut up! Shut up!"

Aunt Marge sent him a glare, "Now you listen here." She started to reply, when she noticed the the finger she held up started expanding, making Annabelle cringe and close her eyes in exasperation.

A button on her dress sailed into the air. Seams started to grow. Thread snapped. Aunt Marge's eyes widened. Her cheeks billowed. Her whole body billowed and she began to inflate like a monstrous balloon.

"Marge!" Uncle Vernon cried as she began to rise out of her seat, the buttons of her blouse hitting Dudley in the forehead, causing him to fall back.

Knowing this was only going to end badly, Annabelle ran upstairs, rushing into her and Harry's bedroom, grabbing one of her hair grips off of the top of their dresser and quickly making her way into the hallway.

Walking over to one of the hallway cupboards, the Gryffindor girl crouched down, picking the lock with the bobby pin, smiling when it opened.

Glancing up, she saw Harry storm into their room, slamming the door shut and hearing him aggressively kicking their dresser, making her sigh as she quickly grabbed their wands and textbooks from the previously locked cupboard.

Opening the door to the bedroom, Annabelle looked at her brother sitting on the bed, breathing heavily.

"Here," She said, putting his wand and textbooks on the bed next to him, "Get your trunk."

***

The Potters' trunks made loud noises as they crashed against the stairs, the two hurrying to get away, only to find Uncle Vernon waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.

"YOU BRING HER BACK! YOU BRING HER BACK RIGHT NOW AND YOU PUT HER RIGHT!" The man hysterically cried, blocking the twins from going down the stairs.

"No!" Harry cried, "She deserved what she got!"

Vernon let out a cry, lunging for the boy, only for Harry to point his wand at him. Uncle Vernon eyed Harry's wand nervously, before he grinned with knowing cruelty.

"You're not allowed to do magic out of school," He smirked, "They won't have you now. You've got nowhere to go."

Annabelle rolled her eyes, "Like, the ministry are going to lock Harry up for turning Marge into a hot air balloon.

Harry then glared at his uncle, "Anywhere's better than here."

The Potter twins then stormed out, Harry doing so more violent than his sister, rolling their trunks behind them.

"Nutmeg." Annabelle softly called out to the cat hiding in the bushes outside of the house made him run up to his owner, jumping into her arms, before they continued walking.

Looking up at the night sky, Annabelle smirked, seeing a plump dot floating around.

The pair walked and walked, Annabelle just following her brother, before they stopped at an empty playground. The swings were creaking gently gently on rusted chains. A tiny carousel, kissed gently by the wind, turning slowly. Harry dropped his trunk and sat down on the curb, Annabelle following suit.

The redhead let out a sigh, before saying, "Harry, what was that?"

Harry scoffed, mumbling, "Like you would care."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Annabelle asked, "Harry, I'm your sister. Of course I care."

Harry turned to her, angrily, "You know, this is probably the most that I've spoken to you all summer."

"Harry, I asked if you wanted to come with me to see our friends." Annabelle told him, confused.

"That's not the point," Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, "We used to spend our summers together, playing games and making fun of Dudley. And now it's like you're just trying to get away from me."

Annabelle's face softened, "Harry-"

The girl was then cut off by a growl.