I want –” he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters intopieces before his eyes. Uncle Vernon didnt go to work that day. Hestayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.
“See,” he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, “ifthey can’t deliver them they’ll just give up.”
“I’m not sure that’ll work, Vernon.”
“Oh, these people’s minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they’re notlike you and me,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with thepiece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.
On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As theycouldn’t go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door,slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the smallwindow in the downstairs bathroom.
Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he gotout a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front andback doors so no one could go out. He hummed “Tiptoe Through the Tulips”as he worked, and jumped at small noises.
On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters toHarry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside eachof the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed AuntPetunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furioustelephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someoneto complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.
“Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?” Dudley asked Harry inamazement.
On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table lookingtired and rather ill, but happy.
“No post on Sundays,” he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmaladeon his newspapers, “no damn letters today –“
Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caughthim sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or fortyletters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleysducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one.
“Out! OUT!”
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