Power He Knows Not

Relative Opinions

Since last chapter is so short, have a double update today

As Harry had suspected, the summer went poorly.

As with last year, Uncle Vernon locked Harry's trunk and everything even slightly magical in the cupboard under the stairs. The only saving grace for his grades, was the fact he had managed to retrieve some of his books, and could do his homework in the dark so long as he was careful.

Riddle was surprisingly quiet about the whole thing. He would occasionally give terse, and sarcastic comments about the Dursleys, but for the most part, he seemed to be thinking, or at least didn't interact with Harry's thoughts in any other way.

It was weird, having someone else in his head.

Unfortunately, his summer took a turn for the worse, when Uncle Vernon announced that his sister, Marge, would be staying for a week. The fact this news was delivered on his birthday, of all days, made it so much worse.

The one light in the darkness of Marge's impending visit, was that Harry managed to bring out his (admittedly Slytherin) cunning, and got Uncle Vernon to agree to sign his permission slip for Hogsmeade that year, should Marge's visit go smoothly.

There were many close calls over the week, but finally, finally, it was dinner on the last day. She would leave in the morning. All Harry had to do, was put up with her for another hour or so.

Riddle had been especially quiet this past week, but Harry didn't think on it too much.

"It's all in the blood, you know," Aunt Marge began, drunkenly, "you see it all the time with dogs. Take this one,"

She leveled her finger at Harry, who was desperately trying to focus on what he remembered from the broom servicing kit Hermione had sent for his birthday, rather then Marge's words,

"A lazy layabout, who thinks oh so highly of himself. You mustn't take blame." She added, patting Petunia's hand in what was most likely meant to convay comfort,

"There's nothing you could've done. Bad blood will out. It's a miracle you turned out alright, Petunia. Not that there's anything wrong with your parents, there's a bad egg in every family."

Harry glared at his plate, broom care forgotten, as he tried instead, to keep his temper in check. A practice he usually failed in, despite how that failure always made his life worse.

"A bad egg," Marge continued, "and then she met that wretch, Potter. What did he do for work?"

She turned to Vernon with the question, her face bright red from too much wine and brandy.

"He... was unemployed." Venon was watching Harry very closely as he said this, though Harry was too busy focusing on his breathing, and trying to block Marge's voice from his head to notice.

"A layabout!" She exclaimed, almost gleeful, "and a drunk too, no doubt."

The glass Marge had just lifted from the table suddenly exploded, shards of it flying in every direction, its contents splashing down her arm, and across her clothes. Aunt Petunia shrieked, and Vernon swore, even as Marge assured them not to worry, dabbing at her tweed jacket with a napkin. Harry nearly leapt to his feet to fetch the broom. Anything for a moments respite.

When Harry returned to sweep up the glass, Marge was back on her tirade about Harry's parents, comparing them to her breeding dogs, and insulting them, and Harry, with every breath. Petunia and Vernon Watched Harry almost fearfully, as he cleaned up the broken glass. Harry didn't notice, his hands were shacking despite his best efforts to remain calm.

"-and really," Marge was saying, "you can't be expected to work miracles. Blood trumps all, bad blood can't be erased with a decent upbringing. You both tried your best with the boy, I'm sure."

Harry's finger slipped on a shard of glass, and blood oozed out almost at once. 'Tried their best'. They tried their best alright. Their best to starve him to death, and beat his magic from him, and hide the truth from him, and lie about his parents.

"Of course, Potter might not even be the boy's father, with how Your sister bandied about with his friends as well. Some people just don't care about their family's reputation-"

"SHUT UP!" Harry found himself yelling, the glass forgotten as he rounded on Marge, rage overwhelming any semblance of thought.

Marge stared at him like a fish out of water, before her face started to grow redder with anger.

"What did you say to me boy!?" She thundered, the name only prickling Harry's rage further.

"I said shut up about my parents!" Harry yelled back, ignoring the terror on Petunia's face, and the mixed fear and rage on Vernon's.

Marge got to her feet, and, with surprising speed for how drunk she was, got to Harry before he could react, and slapped him so hard he fell to the floor.

Harry pushed himself up, ignoring the glass shards stabbing into his hands, instead glaring up at Marge as something much colder hardened the anger in his chest.

"Now you listen here, boy-!" She cut off, as the finger she was pointing at him suddenly started to inflate. The swelling spread quickly, making her jacket buttons groan, and her eyes bug out. The terrified Dursleys, and an impassive Harry watched as Marge began to lift off of the ground, growing steadily larger as she continued to inflate.

Suddenly, Vernon seemed to remember himself, and he launched himself around the table, trying to grab his sister before she went too far. The movement spurred Harry's instincts to make him move, and he leapt to his feet, running for the hall before Vernon or His Aunt could catch him.

As he approached the cupboard under the stairs, the lock burst open with a bang, and Harry grabbed his trunk, hauling it to the front door. He sprinted up the stairs and to the smallest bedroom. With barely a thought, his things flew out from under the loose floorboard underneath his bed, the birthday cards on his desk joining them, and he grabbed Hedwig's cage off of his desk as well, before running back downstairs, and shoving the pillowcase with all of his things in his trunk.

He had just opened the front door, when Vernon came barreling out of the dining room, his face red and purple.

"YOU PUT HER RIGHT!!" He roared, charging straight at Harry, all previous trepidation forgotten. 

Hrry turned around meaning to retrieve his wand from his trunk, but found himself with seconds before Vernon reached him. In a panic, but with anger still pounding through him, Harry threw up his hand to fend off his uncle. To his astonishment, Vernon went flying backwards, into the kitchen.

Aunt Petunia screamed, but Harry was already sprinting outside, dragging his trunk behind him.