Chapter 227 – Awkward Meeting
Aunt Marge was not actually Harry's blood relative—she was Uncle Vernon's sister.
She lived in the countryside, in a much larger house than the Dursleys, with a big garden and a pack of bulldogs.
According to her, she adored her dogs so much that she rarely came to Privet Drive.
But even so, Harry remembered her vividly.
She looked almost identical to Uncle Vernon—ruddy face, heavy build, and even the beginnings of a beard. The outline wasn't as thick as Vernon's, but it was unmistakable.
Cruel and overbearing, she despised dogs she considered "weak." She would order her so-called Colonel Fullbuster (her late husband, whose military title she flaunted) to drown the puppies she deemed too scrawny. Harry sometimes wondered if her hatred of him came simply because he was too thin.
If Aunt Marge had lived at Privet Drive year-round, she'd have been at the top of Harry's hate list.
He remembered her cane lashing his leg at Dudley's fifth birthday party to keep him from outshining her nephew. Years later, she'd given Dudley a fancy robot for Christmas—while handing Harry a box of dog biscuits.
Her last visit, a year before Harry went to Hogwarts, had been worst of all. Harry had accidentally stepped on her bulldog's paw, and the animal had chased him into the garden. He'd scrambled up a tree, forced to cling there until midnight while Aunt Marge laughed and refused to call the dog off.
Harry had always thought—if Aunt Marge were a witch, she'd have been in Slytherin.
The way she would shower Dudley with expensive gifts, then watch Harry's face to see if he dared complain—it was pure Malfoy behavior. Draco had once done the same thing in the Great Hall, flaunting sweets from his mother just to taunt others.
Sirius's sly smile earlier made Harry realize one thing: Sirius knew all about Marge's cruelty. And knowing Sirius, he might have done something to her.
The thought disturbed Harry, yet a smirk crept across his own face—just like Sirius's.
"What spell did Sirius just use?" Harry asked quickly, eager to change the subject before Dumbledore noticed his darker thoughts.
"Apparition," Dumbledore explained. "It means vanishing from one spot and reappearing in another in the blink of an eye."
Now that they were alone, he simply carried on Harry's chosen topic.
"Why does it have two names?" Harry pressed.
"Apparition requires no incantation, only a strong intent to reach your destination. Sometimes young wizards do it accidentally, without control. Quidditch Seekers, in particular, are often naturally gifted at it." Dumbledore winked at Harry, who instantly thought of himself.
Once, in primary school, Dudley's gang had chased him—only for Harry to suddenly vanish and reappear on the school kitchen's chimney.
"But Harry," Dumbledore warned, "never try it in private. To master it safely, you need the Three Ds: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation.
"Destination—know exactly where you mean to go. Determination—will yourself to occupy that space with every fiber of your being. And Deliberation—remain calm and focused, despite the dizziness."
"If a wizard fails, it can cause Splinching—parts of the body arriving while others remain behind."
"Then why does it also get called Disapparition?" Harry asked cautiously.
"You may be too talented for your own good," Dumbledore sighed. "The full name is the Apparition Charm. Disapparate comes from disappear—the act of vanishing. Apparate comes from appear—the act of manifesting again. The Ministry standardized the term to Apparition to avoid confusion, but the two halves remain."
"And what about that levitation spell you compared it with?" Harry asked.
"That's different," Dumbledore said. "Levitation moves an object gently, without removing it from space. Apparition tears you from one point and re-anchors you in another."
Harry shifted uneasily. "So why isn't Sirius back yet? Didn't he Apparate?"
"When traveling with others, they must hold tightly to the side-along Apparition caster," Dumbledore explained. "Perhaps he's taking extra care with Petunia's feelings."
Harry blinked, pretending to believe it.
Then, with a loud crack, Sirius reappeared in the middle of the living room—dragging along Aunt Petunia and Dudley.
Both looked pale and sick, collapsing onto the sofa at once.
"I'm back, Dumbledore, Harry," Sirius grinned, clearly pleased with himself—and just as clearly delayed at Aunt Marge's expense.
"Professor!" Dudley blurted, staring at Dumbledore.
"Albus Dumbledore," Aunt Petunia gasped, her long face stiff with fear.
"Good evening, Dudley. And you must be Petunia. We've exchanged letters," Dumbledore said politely. Then he checked the time, flicked his wand, and the dining room reset itself—table and chairs restored, dishes cleaned as though never used.
"Sirius, it's time we left," Dumbledore continued.
"Alright. Harry, I'll be back for you in a month," Sirius said with a wink before vanishing into the night at Dumbledore's side.
That left Harry standing with Dudley, both awkward and uncertain.
Aunt Petunia lingered, staring at Harry with a strange, timid expression—as if she wanted to speak. But in the end, she shook her head and retreated to the kitchen, clattering dishes as though nothing had happened.
"Long time no see, Dudley."
"Long time no see, Harry."
(End of Chapter)
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