The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley’s eyes. Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight. On her last visit, the year before Harry had started at Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden on the paw of her favourite dog. A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerised robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry. She didn’t often stay in Privet Drive, because she couldn’t bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in Harry’s mind.Īt Dudley’s fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him beating Dudley at musical statues. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. Even though she was not a blood relative of Harry’s (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia’s sister), he had been forced to call her ‘Aunt’ all his life. ‘Sh- she’s not coming here, is she?’Īunt Marge was Uncle Vernon’s sister. Harry, whose thoughts had been upstairs with the Broomstick Servicing Kit, was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump. Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch and added, ‘I’d better be off in a minute, Petunia, Marge’s train gets in at ten.’ ‘Very true,’ said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door’s runner-beans. ‘When will they learn,’ said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, ‘that hanging’s the only way to deal with these people?’ She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on her boring, law-abiding neighbours.
Harry knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hotline number. ‘You didn’t tell us where that maniac’s escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!’Īunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. ‘Hang on!’ barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the newsreader. ‘The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today -’ Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed. He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. ‘Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!’ ‘No need to tell us he’s no good,’ snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. A special hotline has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately.’ ‘… the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. He helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the newsreader on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict. Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys gave any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room, but Harry was far too used to this to care. Harry sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of moustache.
Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Harry went down to breakfast next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table.
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