The Worst Birthday

Notforthefirsttime,anargumenthadbrokenoutoverbreakfastatnumberfour,PrivetDrive.Mr.VernonDursleyhadbeenwokenintheearlyhoursofthemorningbyaloud,hootingnoisefromhisnephewHarry’sroom. 

"Thirdtimethisweek!"heroaredacrossthetable."Ifyoucan’tcontrolthatowl,it’llhavetogo!" 

Harrytried,yetagain,toexplain. 

"She’sbored,"hesaid."She’susedtoflyingaroundoutside.IfIcouldjustletheroutatnight" 

"DoIlookstupid?"snarledUncleVernon,abitoffriedeggdanglingfromhisbushymustache."Iknowwhat’llhappenifthatowl’sletout." 

Heexchangeddarklookswithhiswife,Petunia. 

Harrytriedtoarguebackbuthiswordsweredrownedbyalong,loudbelchfromtheDursleys’son,Dudley. 

"Iwantmorebacon." 

"There’smoreinthefryingpan,sweetums,"saidAuntPetunia,turningmistyeyesonhermassiveson."Wemustbuildyouupwhilewe’vegotthechance...Idon’tlikethesoundofthatschoolfood..." 

"Nonsense,Petunia,IneverwenthungrywhenIwasatSmeltings,"saidUncleVernonheartily."Dudleygetsenough,don’tyou,son?" 

Dudley,whowassolargehisbottomdroopedovereithersideofthekitchenchair,grinnedandturnedtoHarry. 

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