tail poking out of the seat of his trousers, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle
Vernon had had to pay for its removal at a private hospital in London. It wasn't
altogether surprising, therefore, that Dudley kept running his hand nervously over
his backside, and walking sideways from room to room, so as not to present the
same target to the enemy.
Lunch was an almost silent meal. Dudley didn't even protest at the food (cottage
cheese and grated celery). Aunt Petunia wasn't, eating anything at all. Her arms
were folded, her lips were pursed, and she seemed to be chewing her tongue, as
though biting back the furious diatribe she longed to throw at Harry.
"They'll be driving, of course?" Uncle Vernon barked across the table.
27
"Er," said Harry.
He hadn't thought of that. How were the Weasleys going to pick him up? They
didn't have a car anymore; the old Ford Anglia they had once owned was currently
running wild in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. But Mr. Weasley had borrowed
a Ministry of Magic car last year; possibly he would do the same today?
"I think so," said Harry.
Uncle Vernon snorted into his mustache. Normally, Uncle Vernon would have
asked what car Mr. Weasley drove; he tended to judge other men by how big and
expensive their cars were. But Harry doubted whether Uncle Vernon would have
taken to Mr. Weasley even if he drove a Ferrari.
Harry spent most of the afternoon in his bedroom; he couldn't stand watching Aunt
Petunia peer out through the net curtains every few seconds, as though there had
been a warning about an escaped rhinoceros. Finally, at a quarter to five, Harry
went back downstairs and into the living room.
Aunt Petunia was compulsively straightening cushions. Uncle Vernon was
pretending to read the paper, but his tiny eyes were not moving, and Harry was
sure he was really listening with all his might for the sound of an approaching car.
Dudley was crammed into an armchair, his porky hands beneath him, clamped
firmly around his bottom. Harry couldn't take the tension; he left the room and
went and sat on the stairs in the hall, his eyes on his watch and his heart pumping
fast from excitement and nerves.
But five o'clock came and then went. Uncle Vernon, perspiring slightly in his suit,
opened the front door, peered up and down the street, then withdrew his head
quickly.
"They're late!" he snarled at Harry.
I know," said Harry. "Maybe - er - the traffic's bad, or something."
Ten past five ... then a quarter past five ... Harry was starting to feel anxious
himself now. At half past, he heard Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia conversing in
terse mutters in the living room.
"No consideration at all."
"We might've had an engagement."
"Maybe they think they'll get invited to dinner if they're late."
"Well, they most certainly won't be," said Uncle Vernon, and Harry heard him
stand up and start pacing the living room. "They'll take the boy and go, there'll be
no hanging around. That's if they're coming at all. Probably mistaken the day. I
daresay their kind don't set much store by punctuality. Either that or they drive
some tin-pot car that's broken d- AAAAAAAARRRRRGH!"
28
Harry jumped up. From the other side of the living room door came the sounds of
the three Dursleys scrambling, panic-stricken, across the room. Next moment
Dudley came flying into the hall, looking terrified.
"What happened?" said Harry. "What's the matter?"
But Dudley didn't seem able to speak. Hands still clamped over his buttocks, he
waddled as fast as he could into the kitchen. Harry hurried into the living room.
Loud bangings and scrapings were coming from behind the Dursleys' boarded-up
fireplace, which had a fake coal fire plugged in front of it.
"What is it?" gasped Aunt Petunia, who had backed into the wall and was staring,
terrified, toward the fire. "What is it, Vernon?"
But they were left in doubt barely a second longer. Voices could be heard from
inside the blocked fireplace.
"Ouch! Fred, no - go back, go back, there's been some kind of mistake - tell
George not to - OUCH! George, no, there's no room, go back quickly and tell Ron-
"
"Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad - maybe he'll be able to let us out-"
There was a loud hammering of fists on the boards behind the electric fire.
"Harry? Harry, can you hear us?"
The Dursleys rounded on Harry like a pair of angry wolverines.
"What is this?" growled Uncle Vernon. "What's going on?"
"They - they've tried to get here by Floo powder," said Harry, fighting a mad
desire to laugh. "They can travel by fire - only you've blocked the fireplace - hang
on -"
He approached the fireplace and called through the boards.
"Mr. Weasley? Can you hear me?"
The hammering stopped. Somebody inside the chimney piece said, "Shh!"
"Mr. Weasley, it's Harry ... the fireplace has been blocked up. You won't be able to
get through there."
"Damn!" said Mr. Weasley's voice. "What on earth did they want to block up the
fireplace for?"
"They've got an electric fire," Harry explained.
"Really?" said Mr. Weasley's voice excitedly. "Eclectic, you say? With a plug?
Gracious, I must see that.... Let's think ... ouch, Ron!"
29
Ron's voice now joined the others'.
"What are we doing here? Has something gone wrong?"
"Oh no, Ron," came Fred's voice, very sarcastically. "No, this is exactly where we
wanted to end up."
"Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here," said George, whose voice sounded
muffled, as though he was squashed against the wall.
"Boys, boys. . ." said Mr. Weasley vaguely. "I'm trying to think what to do.... Yes
... only way. . . Stand back, Harry."
Harry retreated to the sofa. Uncle Vernon, however, moved forward.
"Wait a moment!" he bellowed at the fire. "What exactly are you going to -"
BANG.
The electric fire shot across the room as the boarded-up fireplace burst outward,
expelling Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ron in a cloud of rubble and loose
chippings. Aunt Petunia shrieked and fell backward over the coffee table; Uncle
Vernon caught her before she hit the floor, and gaped, speechless, at the Weasleys,
all of whom had bright red hair, including Fred and George, who were identical to
the last freckle.
"That's better," panted Mr. Weasley, brushing dust from his long green robes and
straightening his glasses. "Ah - you must be Harry's aunt and uncle!"
Tall, thin, and balding, he moved toward Uncle Vernon, his hand outstretched, but
Uncle Vernon backed away several paces, dragging Aunt Petunia. Words utterly
failed Uncle Vernon. His best suit was covered in white dust, which had settled in
his hair and mustache and made him look as though he had just aged thirty years.
"Er - yes - sorry about that," said Mr. Weasley, lowering his hand and looking
over his shoulder at the blasted fireplace. "It's all my fault. It just didn't occur to
me that we wouldn't be able to get out at the other end. I had your fireplace
connected to the Floo Network, you see - just for an afternoon, you know, so we
could get Harry. Muggle fireplaces aren't supposed to be connected, strictly
speaking - but I've got a useful contact at the Floo Regulation Panel and he fixed it
for me. I can put it right in a jiffy, though, don't worry. I'll light a fire to send the
boys back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate."
Harry was ready to bet that the Dursleys hadn't understood a single word of this.
They were still gaping at Mr. Weasley, thunderstruck. Aunt Petunia staggered
upright again and hid behind Uncle Vernon.
"Hello, Harry!" said Mr. Weasley brightly. "Got your trunk ready?"
"It's upstairs," said Harry, grinning back.
30
"We'll get it," said Fred at once. Winking at Harry, he and George left the room.
They knew where Harry's bedroom was, having once rescued him from it in the
dead of night. Harry suspected that Fred and George were hoping for a glimpse of
Dudley; they had heard a lot about him from Harry.
"Well," said Mr. Weasley, swinging his arms slightly, while he tried to find words
to break the very nasty silence. "Very - erm - very nice place you've got here."
As the usually spotless living room was now covered in dust and bits of brick, this
remark didn't go down too well with the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon's face purpled
once more, and Aunt Petunia started chewing her tongue again. However, they
seemed too scared to actually say anything.
Mr. Weasley was looking around. He loved everything to do with Muggles. Harry
could see him itching to go and examine the television and the video recorder.
"They run off eckeltricity, do they?" he said knowledgeably. "Ah yes, I can see the
plugs. I collect plugs," he added to Uncle Vernon. "And batteries. Got a very large
collection of batteries. My wife thinks I'm mad, but there you are."
Uncle Vernon clearly thought Mr. Weasley was mad too. He moved ever so
slightly to the right, screening Aunt Petunia from view, as though he thought Mr.
Weasley might suddenly run at them and attack.
Dudley suddenly reappeared in the room. Harry could hear the clunk of his trunk
on the stairs, and knew that the sounds had scared Dudley out of the kitchen.
Dudley edged along the wall, gazing at Mr. Weasley with terrified eyes, and
attempted to conceal himself behind his mother and father. Unfortunately, Uncle
Vernon's bulk, while sufficient to hide bony Aunt Petunia, was nowhere near
enough to conceal Dudley.
"Ah, this is your cousin, is it, Harry?" said Mr. Weasley, taking another brave stab
at making conversation.
"Yep," said Harry, "that's Dudley."
He and Ron exchanged glances and then quickly looked away from each other; the
temptation to burst out laughing was almost overwhelming. Dudley was still
clutching his bottom as though afraid it might fall off. Mr. Weasley, however,
seemed genuinely concerned at Dudley's peculiar behavior. Indeed, from the tone
of his voice when he next spoke, Harry was quite sure that Mr. Weasley thought
D