The Potter Twins and the Prisoner of Askaban {3}

1. Aunt Marge's Visit

"It was like a time bomb set in the motion, we knew that we were destined to explode" ~ Time Bomb, All Time Low

Haylee's p.o.v

Harry and I go downstairs for breakfast, one the morning of our thirteenth birthday, to find the Dursley's sitting around the kitchen table, watching a brand new television.

We squeeze in-between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, and I begin slowly eating a piece of toast, ignoring the fact that our family neglect our birthday.

I look up at the television to see a newsreader halfway through a report on an escaped convict.

"...the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up and any sightings of Black should be reported immediately.

"No need to tell us he's no good," Uncle Vernon snorts, staring at the picture of the prisoner. "Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!"

He shoots a nasty sideways glance and Harry and I, and Harry and I grin at each other.

Our hair as always been a source of annoyance to them; Harry's sticks up in all directions, no matter how much you try to brush it down, and mine is thick and wavy, making it look horribly messy when it's unbrushed.

But compared to the man on the television, our hair is neat as can be. His gaunt face is surrounded by matted, elbow length black hair, which is in countless tangles.

"The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today -" the newsreader reappears.

"Hang on!" Uncle Vernon barks, staring furiously at the television. "You didn't tell us where that maniac's escaped from! What use is that! Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!"

From the corner of my eyes, I see Aunt Petunia whip around and look out the window, and up the street.

"When will they learn," Uncle Vernon says, pounding his fist on the table, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?"

"Very true," Aunt Petunia says.

With that, Uncle Vernon drowns his cup of tea, glances at his watch and speaks;
"I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia, Marge's train gets in at ten."

"Aunt Marge?" Harry and I blurt out.
"Sh-she's not coming here, is she?"

Aunt Marge is Uncle Vernon'e sister, and, even though she is not a blood relative of us (thank god) we've been forced to call her 'Aunt' our entire lives. She doesn't often visit, but when she does, it's beyond horrible.

"Mar he'll be beer for a week, and while we're on the subject," he points a fat finger at us threateningly, "we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her."

I nod my head slightly, and fold my arms over my chest.

"Firstly, you'll both keep a civil tongue in your heads when you're talking to Marge," he growls.

"Alright, if she does when she's talking to us," Harry says bitterly.

"Secondly, as Marge doesn't know anything about your abnormality. I don't want any - any funny stuff while she's here. You behave yourselves, got me?"

"We will if she does," I say through gritted teeth.

"Thirdly, for you, girl, especially," he nudges me roughly, staring at me with his mean eyes. "If you wake Marge up in the night with your murmuring and yelling, you'll be in for trouble."

I clench my fist tightly, but force a smile.
"Whatever you say."

Ever since I've gotten back, I've been having nightmares about Tom Riddle, which often lead to me waking up in a panic. It's not exactly something I can control...