Harry Potter's Twin Sister

Aunt Marge Doesn't Look Too Good

The summer before third year was a vaste improvement on the one before second year. The Dursley's had a new neighbour, and instead on focusing on belittling Harry and Hazel all the time, Aunt Petunia liked to complain about the state of number 2 Privet Drive's garden, and Uncle Vernon liked to talk about how One Of These Days he was going to knock on their front door and give them a piece of his mind.

"I mean, really Petunia, what kind of a person mows their lawn on a Sunday?"

"I don't know," she would say in a frilly voice, shaking her head, "I really don't know, Vernon."

 Dudley was getting fatter, and Hazel and Harry had a bet going on; Hazel thought that Dudley would pass out from excessive eating at the dinner table at least once before the summer was over, and Harry, who knew his cousin much better than she did, had bet her that Dudley was physically unable to pass out from too much food.

"It's in his genes," he would say to her. "Just look at Uncle Vernon. Our Aunt Marge is even worse, once I saw her eat an entire turkey by herself. Why d'you think Aunt Petunia's so skinny? They can't afford to feed her and the other two."

The only good thing about Dudley eating more than his fair share was that he was now too fat to chase Harry and Hazel around the streets. This provided them with pretty good entertainment; they would play some sort of awfully clever trick on Dudley —something they hoped would make the Weasley Twins proud— and then they would run away laughing and watch Dudley struggle after them. There was nothing that Aunt Petunia could do about it, either, because she wasn't around the house during the day anymore; she had joined some sort of house-wives golfing group. 

When they weren't bugging their cousin, they were lounging around the garden. Since Aunt Petunia wasn't there anymore to spray them with the hose, Hazel could easily work there in peace. Whenever Harry tried to convince her that she was wasting her time trying to do something nice for the Dursleys, she would remind him that she didn't give a flying fuck about Aunt Petunia, she just wanted to help the plants. 

Over the course of the three mandatory-weeks that Dumbledore made them spend with the Dursley's, Harry had befriended the middle-aged man next door. So, while Hazel toiled away in the garden, Harry was shown the in's and out's of how to repair a beaten up Volkswagen. The man next door was a pretty cool guy, and Harry would ignore Hazel whenever she voiced her concerns about him spending so much time in a stranger's house.

"Eric isn't a stranger," he would say.

"Just because you know his name doesn't mean you know what kind of a guy he is—what if he is a pedophile?"

"Well, I think I would know by now if he was a child predator, I've spent every day of the last two weeks with him."

"I still don't think—"

"Look, he even gave me a birthday present!"

Hazel frowned, and tried to explain that that was exactly how child pedophiles lured in their victims, but Harry wouldn't hear it.

"He said it's for the both of us, if that makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't," she said. "...What is it?"

"Well you can't open it now, dumb-dumb," said Harry, pulling the badly wrapped gift out of her hands and holding it away from her where she couldn't reach it. "You have to wait until tomorrow, otherwise you'll just spoil it."

"Fine, it's probably just some candy with a note saying 'there's more where that came from' and a map that leads you into a trap and then you'll—"