“Vernon,” Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, “look at theaddress — how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don’t thinkthey’re watching the house?”
“Watching — spying — might be following us,” muttered Uncle Vernonwildly.
“But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don’twant –“
Harry could see Uncle Vernon’s shiny black shoes pacing up and down thekitchen.
“No,” he said finally. “No, we’ll ignore it. If they don’t get ananswer… Yes, that’s best… we won’t do anything….
“But –“
“I’m not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn’t we swear when we tookhim in we’d stamp out that dangerous nonsense?”
That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he’dnever done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.
“Where’s my letter?” said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezedthrough the door. “Who’s writing to me?”
“No one. it was addressed to you by mistake,” said Uncle Vernon shortly.”I have burned it.”
“It was not a mistake,” said Harry angrily, “it had my cupboard on it.”
“SILENCE!” yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from theceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into asmile, which looked quite painful.
“Er — yes, Harry — about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have beenthinking… you’re really getting a bit big for it… we think it mightbe nice if you moved into Dudley’s second bedroom.
“Why?” said Harry.
“Don’t ask questions!” snapped his uncle. “Take this stuff upstairs,now.”
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