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At last, at long last, the final evening
of Marge's stay arrived. Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and
Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. They got all the way
through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Harry's
faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored them all
with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then
Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of
brandy.
"Can I tempt you, Marge?" Aunt Marge
had already had quite a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red.
"Just a small one, then," she chuckled. "A bit more than that . . .
and a bit more . . . that's the ticket." Dudley was eating his
fourth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little
finger sticking out. Harry really wanted to disappear into his
bedroom, but he met Uncle Vernon's angry little eyes and knew he
would have to sit it out. "Aah," said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips
and putting the empty brandy glass back down. "Excellent nosh,
Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with
twelve dogs to look after. . . ."
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She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. "Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy," she went on, winking at Dudley. "You'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Vernon. . . ."
"Now, this one here -" She jerked her head at Harry, who felt his stomach clench. The Handbook, he thought quickly. "This one's got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred." Harry was trying to remember page twelve of his book: A Charm to Cure Reluctant Reversers. "It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out.
Now, I'm saying nothing against your
family, Petunia" - she patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her
shovel-like one - "but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in
the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the
result right in front of us." Harry was staring at his plate, a
funny ringing in his ears. Grasp your broom firmly by the tail, he
thought. But he couldn't remember what came next.
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