Marge Dursley: You mustn't blame yourself about how this one turned out. It's all to do with blood. Bad blood will out. What is it the boy's father did, Petunia?

Petunia Dursley: Nothing. He didn't work. He was unemployed.

Marge Dursley: And a drunk too, no doubt?

Harry Potter: That's a lie.

Marge Dursley: What did you say?

Harry Potter: My dad wasn't a drunk.

(A glass explodes in Marge's hand, she later resumes the topic...)

Marge Dursley: Actually, it's nothing to do with the father. It's all to do with the mother. You see it all the time with dogs. If something's wrong with the b*tch, then something's wrong with the pup.

Harry Potter: Shut up! Shut up!

Marge Dursley (raising her finger): Right. Let me tell you...

(Her finger starts to blow up and her body soon follows ending in Marge floating away...)