Operation: Goodbye, Aunt Marge
"Alright, Harry, in the end we don't have superpowers like comic book heroes… but we really do have special abilities," Percy whispered during his monthly meeting with his brother. Both were crouched in a corner of the backyard, as if sharing a secret no one else could hear.
In truth, the entire house knew exactly what they were talking about. It wasn't hard to guess when the most powerful dark witch in England was stretched out on a sun lounger, eyes closed and a wide hat half-covering her face. She seemed to be asleep, basking in the warmth on her skin, dressed in a bikini that, though simple, was appropriate enough for being around two children. Beside her, the little elf Lia silently replaced the empty glass of tropical juice with a fresh one on the small table at her side.
Ever since Mor had returned, her free time was scarce. She was always busy, and in the rare moments when she could relax, she made the most of it. She knew it was only a matter of time before she would be running off again, occupied with her endless cleaning work, only to come back late at night exhausted—never once complaining.
Sally, on the other hand, knew her children so well that she could guess what they were plotting even without hearing them. While working in her office, she would occasionally glance out the window overlooking the backyard. The silence of the boys was, in itself, a warning sign. After watching them for a few seconds, she let out a sigh and lowered her gaze to the calendar on her desk. A flicker of worry crossed her eyes, though she didn't let it distract her from her book of alchemy.
"So, what are the next plans?" asked Harry, his little serious face making it seem as though the fate of the entire world depended on their conversation.
"Hehe…" Percy grinned with pride. "At last, we have the true power to scare Marge so she'll never want to come back to this neighborhood again."
The dates were approaching when the unbearable woman, Marge Dursley, usually visited her relatives. For the past few months, they had enjoyed an unexpected peace, thanks to her having hit her head and been hospitalized. After being discharged, she spent weeks at home, spoiled by a nurse—until the poor woman quit, unable to endure any more. Now, fully recovered, Marge would soon return to bother everyone.
As for the youngest Dursley, they no longer had any problems. Ever since Percy had begun training with the sword, he had become quite skilled in fighting. Dudley and his gang learned the lesson the hard way when they tried to corner the brothers at school, only to receive a beating from Percy.
Harry could have used magic, but he still didn't have perfect control over it. On top of that, it seemed that muggles were affected twice as strongly, as if everything was amplified for them. A simple illusion could end up causing far more harm than intended, and he knew it.
"So, what will we do?" Harry asked, eyes shining with anticipation. At last they had the chance to take revenge on the woman who always insulted his mother with such venom in her words.
Normally, Harry was the voice of reason between the two, the calm and prudent one. But when it came to Marge, even he set that aside. No one could dare insult or belittle his mother while they were around.
"Ehehe…" Percy smirked again before leaning to whisper his plan into his brother's ear.
Meanwhile, Mor cracked her eyes open at the sound of overly enthusiastic whispers. She adjusted her dark glasses, raised her head toward where the boys were conspiring, and allowed herself a smile tinged with nostalgia.
"They remind me of little Mord…" she murmured, a note of sadness in her voice. "I wonder what he's doing now." Then she slid her sunglasses back in place, took a sip of juice, and sank again into her rest beneath the sun.
…
After their "strategic meeting," the boys moved to the front yard. There, with straw hats on their heads, they pretended to be busy tending to the plants. To any onlooker, it looked like they were serving a punishment, pulling weeds or watering the garden. In reality, they barely moved the tools at random, their eyes fixed on the nearby corner as if expecting someone to arrive by car.
Whenever a passerby went by, they pretended to work diligently, exchanging confused glances before offering polite smiles and greetings.
Everyone in the neighborhood knew how adorable and well-mannered they were. They were likeable even to those who didn't interact much with them. Only a handful of neighbors seemed determined to criticize, pointing them out at community meetings as "troublesome" or casting suspicion on Sally with rumors of a dubious past.
But Sally never let herself be intimidated. From time to time she brought the boys along to those very meetings, and everyone could see them behaving like two little chicks following their mother. She, in turn, radiated kindness and patience, almost too good-natured to hold a grudge against anyone. She worked as a writer, raising her children alone after losing her husband in a tragic accident at sea. Thanks to an inheritance, she had managed to move to England—something that had left the Dursleys exposed as liars and only deepened their resentment toward her family.
Ironically, now the Dursleys themselves were viewed as a family in decline by the neighborhood. Yet they chose to ignore that perception, clinging to appearances, convinced that the envy of others was simply due to Vernon's career success and the "perfect family" they imagined themselves to be. Well, out of sight, out of mind… or perhaps, as the saying went, none are so blind as those who will not see.
At that very moment, a taxi turned the corner. Percy straightened at once, nudging Harry, who was watering the plants with an empty watering can.
"Harry, she's here," he said quickly.
Harry lifted his head, nodded seriously, and tightened his grip on the watering can. The plan was starting at that very moment. This time they had a strategy that would work… unlike the last one.
The taxi stopped right in front of the Dursleys' house, and the first thing to appear was Marge's fat foot, followed by her bulky figure struggling to get out.
Harry and Percy kept on with their "tasks" in the garden, pretending to be far too focused on pulling weeds to even look in that direction.
Marge got out of the vehicle with her inseparable dog in her arms, that ugly creature that looked like a grotesque reflection of its owner—as if instead of a pet, it were a living portrait of what she would look like in canine form.
She stared at the boys for a moment, raising an eyebrow with an air of superiority, then let out a dry, nasal sound, a mix of disdain and irritation. She clicked her tongue several times, as if her mere presence in the neighborhood were some kind of favor to everyone.
Meanwhile, the taxi driver, his face exhausted, unloaded her suitcases. His expression said it all: that trip had been absolute hell.
"Hurry up, it's better to go inside before my eyes get contaminated," Marge said arrogantly.
The driver rolled his eyes but said nothing. He knew that until he got paid, he had to put up with clients like her.
Marge took another step, but suddenly the ground became as slippery as if she had stepped onto a block of ice. Her body flew backward, while the dog was launched into the air, freed from her arms by pure reflex.
The crash was thunderous: Marge landed flat on her back on the lawn, letting out a wheeze that sounded as though every last drop of air had been squeezed from her lungs. A second later, the dog landed squarely on her stomach, forcing out a strangled grunt and expelling what little oxygen she had left.
Harry and Percy instantly clapped their hands over their mouths, their cheeks red and tight as they struggled to hold in their laughter.
It took her several seconds to catch her breath again. Her face flushed like an overripe tomato, and with her voice ragged she shouted, "What are you doing, you idiot… help me!" aimed at the driver.
The man's eyes went wide. He swallowed hard, staring at Marge's massive figure sprawled on the grass. This looked more like a heavy-lifting job than a rescue.
"Yeah, I'm coming…" he muttered with resignation, stepping closer to offer his hand.
The problem was that getting her up was nearly a Herculean task. He was only used to lifting luggage, not a human barrel. To move Marge, you'd need a bodybuilder… or a crane.
The driver tugged at her arm while she flailed her legs awkwardly, looking like an overturned turtle. The sight was so ridiculous that Harry and Percy were on the verge of collapse, tears welling up in their eyes, cheeks puffed out, hands pressed tightly to their mouths to keep from bursting out.
"What's going on here!?" thundered a voice from the doorway. Vernon Dursley appeared, scowling—though surprise quickly replaced his usual anger when he saw his sister sprawled on the ground with the driver struggling to haul her up.
"Vernon, help me!" shrieked Marge, waving her arms.
The man charged forward, face red with rage, convinced that the driver was attacking her. The driver immediately stepped back in confusion, raising his hands in innocence.
But in his rush, Vernon stepped right onto the same slippery patch. His foot slid, and unlike Marge, who had fallen backward, he pitched forward—landing squarely on top of her.
"Uuufff!" Marge exhaled, the sound echoing down the street as though half her ribs had shattered.
That was too much for Harry and Percy. They gave in, rolling on the ground with laughter, clutching their stomachs as tears streamed down their faces.
"Vernon!" Petunia screeched as she appeared in the doorway. She covered her face in shock at the sight of her husband on top of her sister, both of them flailing their legs like fish out of water. Marge pounded on Vernon's face in fury, which only made it harder for him to get up.
As if the scene weren't absurd enough, Marge's dog, thinking Vernon was attacking her, lunged at his calf. It sank its teeth in viciously until blood began to drip.
"AAAAH!" Vernon roared, the pain forcing him to collapse again right on top of Marge, crushing her even more.
While all that chaos reigned at the neighbor's house, Harry and Percy rolled across the lawn, unable to stand from laughing so hard. But suddenly, the heavy rumble of an engine caught their attention.
A military Hummer turned onto the same street as the taxi. It stopped right in front of the boys' house, and the men inside stared in confusion at the bizarre spectacle.
The brothers' laughter died instantly. They straightened up, their faces tense.
"Harry, the military found us… run!" Percy shouted before bolting toward the house.
"Aunt Mor!" both cried as they rushed inside, a trace of fear in their voices. If there was anyone they could trust to protect the family, it was her.