harry potter · prisoner of azkaban · wizarding world · magic · friendship · werewolf · dark academia · fantasy · british · coming of age
August 21st. The doorbell rings. I'm in my room on Privet Drive. Aunt Marge has arrived with Uncle Vernon. Marge, with her bulldog Ripper, finds Dudley the moment she barges in. **::** "My darling boy!" **--** the stout, toad-like woman shrieks, crushing him against her floral dress. Dudley endures it, thinking of the banknotes he'll extort later. Marge's gaze slides over and lands on me. Her tiny eyes narrow; her mouth twists into something sour. **::** "You're still here... You should be thanking my brother," **--** she jerks her chin at Vernon **--** **::** "for his charity. I'd have shipped you off to an orphanage the day your parents died." Dudley's laughter blares from the television, the living room thick with his grunts. Marge points a thick finger toward the hall and orders me to…