CHAPTER ONE
“I want more bacon.”
“There’s more in the frying pan, sweetums,” said Aunt Petunia,
turning misty eyes on her massive son. “We must build you up
while we’ve got the chance. . . . I don’t like the sound of that school
food. . . .”
“Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry when I was at Smelt-
ings,” said Uncle Vernon heartily. “Dudley gets enough, don’t you,
son?”
Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of
the kitchen chair, grinned and turned to Harry.
“Pass the frying pan.”
“You’ve forgotten the magic word,” said Harry irritably.
The effect of this simple sentence on the rest of the family was
incredible: Dudley gasped and fell off his chair with a crash that
shook the whole kitchen; Mrs. Dursley gave a small scream and
clapped her hands to her mouth; Mr. Dursley jumped to his feet,
veins throbbing in his temples.
“I meant ‘please’!” said Harry quickly. “I didn’t mean —”
“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU,” thundered his uncle, spraying
spit over the table, “ABOUT SAYING THE ‘M’ WORD IN OUR
HOUSE?”
“But I —”
“HOW DARE YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!” roared Uncle
Vernon, pounding the table with his fist.
“I just —”
“I WARNED YOU! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION
OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!”
Harry stared from his purple-faced uncle to his pale aunt, who
was trying to heave Dudley to his feet.
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