Harry Potter and the, ah man, ANOTHER trans Harry fic? Really?

Marge's visit

Chapter 2

It was a week after Harry's Hogwarts letter had arrived and He still hadn't worked up the nerve to ask for a ride to London to do his shopping. Last year he had been staying with the Weasley's and had gone to Diagon Alley with them, but this summer they were vacationing in Egypt. Mr. Weasley had won a fairly large chunk of money and so they'd opted to visit their eldest child, Bill. Harry couldn't think of a family that deserved a chance for a little fun with some extra gold more than the Weasley's, but he couldn't help a bit of jealousy since it meant he was stuck at Privet Drive all summer. He was definitely ready to see Ron and the twins, and even Ginny again.

The Weasley's were meant to return on the last week before the start of term, but Harry was sure things would be much too hectic to impose his presence on them at that point. Ron and the twins barely manage to get everything packed in time for school normally, it'd be a miracle if they made it to the Hogwarts express without forgetting anything this year. He couldn't ask to stay with Hermione because her family was vacationing in France, besides Harry had never actually been invited to visit her anyway. He got the impression that Hermione's parents wanted to spend as much quality time with her as possible, as they missed her terribly during the school year.

Harry's Hogwarts letter brought a second complication as well. Third year students were allowed, during specially designated weekends, to visit the neighboring, all magical, village of Hogsmeade. The problem was, Harry needed his guardians to sign a permission slip. Harry seriously considered just forging the signature, but for whatever reason it made him feel a bit queasy. It's not like Harry hadn't needed to do so occasionally during primary, but that was almost always a matter of survival. If Uncle Vernon had seen a few of those notes, Harry just knew he'd have woken up locked in his cupboard with a concussion. Harry really REALLY wanted to go with his friends to visit Hogsmeade like a normal kid. Not that he would never be normal, regardless of how much he wished for it. To his relations he was a freak, to the magical world he was The-Child-Who'd-Lived, and even in his own mind he knew something was wrong, though he fought to keep "those thoughts" buried in his subconscious. He could ask them to sign his permission slip, but he knew his aunt and uncle would likely just laugh in his face if he tried.

Just as Harry had resigned himself to however many lonely days in the castle, an opportunity, and a curse presented itself. Monday morning, 3 weeks before the summer holidays ended, Uncle Vernon was getting ready to leave for work when he called out "Boy."

A rather confused Harry dried his hands on a towel and made his way to the foyer. Harry hoped whatever he wanted would be quick, else his aunt would add extra chores for the dishes still being in the sink even with Harry having a good reason.

"Now listen up boy. I'll be picking up Marge on my way home this afternoon, so you best bloody well be sure your room is clean and free of any of your ridiculous… that is... all that fairy rubbish from that school of yours had better be back safely tucked away in your cupboard," growled Uncle Vernon. "You'll be kipping on the couch while she's here too, and I expect you to mind your manners."

"I will if she does," Harry grumbled, though his uncle just steam rolled on over him.

"As Marge obviously doesn't know about your freakishness, we've told her that we send you off to St. Brutus's Secure centre for Incurably Criminal Boys," Harry scoffed though Vernon, again, kept talking right over him, "and you'll keep up that story if you know what's best for you."

Harry considered this for a moment, bracing himself, hardly believing his daring he asked, "What's in it for me?"

You could almost see the steam coming out of his uncle's ears as he seethed, "Don't you talk back to me boy! Not after I work all day to put clothes on your back and food in your belly when you aren't even ours! You'll be sticking to the story if you don't want to be spending the rest of your miserable time locked away in that room. No more free time, no more visits to the library."

Harry started a bit at that last remark.

"Oh yes boy, I know all about that. Reading, like some kind of Nancy boy, not that I'm surprised," he sneered like reading was some particularly odious task.

"Okay okay," Harry quickly agreed, taking a step back and looking away. "Look, I'm just saying, keeping up a convincing story through all her antagonism will be really hard."

At this Vernon took a menacing step forward.

Harry put his hands up placatingly, "but yeah I'll do it… provided you sign my school form," he improvised after a sudden stroke of genus.

"You'll do it because you're told, boy!"

"Come on uncle, you know how Aunt Marge is with me. It's a bit much normally, but if I have to try and stay clear headed enough to stick to some story about St. Whats'it."

"St. Brutus's Secure Centre," Vernon interrupted hotly.

"Exactly," said Harry softly. "It's rather a lot to remember, and if I'm to keep my cool I'll need something to help me stay focused."

"Well… Well then, what's this ruddy form for then?" huffed the big man.

"Permission form to visit the local village." Harry knew better than to let his excitement at the prospect show. Better to let his uncle think it wasn't really that big of a deal.

Uncle Vernon considered this for a time, warring with his innate desire not to allow Harry anything he might enjoy, "Fine boy, but you'll make it sound good, and if you toe the line, then at the end of Marge's trip I'll… I'll sign your stupid form."

By the time uncle Vernon and aunt Marge made it in that night, Harry was putting serious thought into which would be worse, suffering through the underhanded, nasty things Aunt Marge would throw at him, or continuing to do all of the chores Aunt Petunia had foisted upon him! So far he'd dusted, swept, vacuumed, mopped, packed away his belongings, changed the bedding on his bed, sent Hedwig off to Hagrid's for the week, mowed the grass, mulched the garden flowers, weeded, washed the windows, washed the drive, showered twice (in freezing water as his aunt started the laundry as soon as he started his shower) as his aunt insisted he still stunk, and had only just started cooking supper as they pulled in.

The week had gone mostly as Harry had expected. Marge would hurl insults at his smallest infraction, while praising Dudley for next to no reason at all. Harry could mostly stand the tirades directed at himself, after all he'd been putting up with them his whole life. The colorful affronts towards Harry's masculinity were harder to stand, mostly because they seemed to be true, regardless of how hard Harry tried to make it otherwise. Still, it's not like he could help being small, of course he didn't really know anything about sports, Dudley had always made sure there was no one to play with, and his uncle would always kick him out of the room any time he wanted to watch a game. The worse though were the lies aimed at his parentage, which were almost impossible to take.

At least Ripper, Aunt Marge's bulldog, had mellowed out enough in his old age that he no longer tried to chase Harry all over the yard. Normally animals loved Harry, yet another reason he wasn't manly according to Marge. Harry thought it was probably because he had spent so much time trying to blend into the background, in order to fend off his own predators. Harry had been scared often enough, he knew how to approach small creatures so as not to scare them himself. Ripper though, he was just too much Marge's dog Harry figured.

Wednesday night after dinner found Harry serving the Dursley's dessert, none for him of course. Marge had been enjoying some of Uncle Vernon's brandy just a bit too enthusiastically. Harry had already begun to brace for the inevitable, that was a glass and a half ago.

"Just two more days Harry, and she'll be gone, then Uncle Vernon will sign your form and you'll be able to visit Hogsmeade with everyone else. I'm sure it won't be anything they haven't said to you before," or at least, that's what Harry told himself.

"My but I do enjoy seeing a boy with a healthy appetite," Marge simpered to Aunt Petunia as Dudley ate his third slice of pie. "Means you'll be a proper sized man like your father, right dudders? Unlike that runty one," she tutted.

"He always was slight, no matter how much we fed him," replied Petunia.

Harry was jarred right out of his inner musing on the latest goosebumps book he'd read. That had been one heck of a whopper, even for Aunt Petunia!

"Oh you can't blame yourself dear," continued Marge. "These things just happen sometimes. You see it all over in the dog breeding world."

Looking over to Vernon she asked, "What was it you said the boy's father did again, Vernon?"

"Didn't have a real job, bit of a layabout. Lived off Pet's sister's money, not that she made much mind you," Vernon jeered.

"No surprise there, probably a drunk too," Marge was saying, rather ironically considering her state, before Harry interrupted hotly.

"My father was not a drunk or a layabout!"

At Harry's enraged outburst the brandy glass Aunt Marge held shattered.

After a brief pause, during which everyone looked at Marge's broken cup, Marge tittered on about not knowing her own strength, and Vernon tried to send Harry out to the back yard. Harry was definitely ready to go. He needed out of there before he let off any more accidental magic, but of course Marge had different ideas. She insisted Harry clean up her mess.

Harry was trying to get a grip on his temper, he was really really trying… and then Marge insulted his mother too.