“But...surely you know where your nephew is going?' she asked, looking bewildered.'Certainly we know,' said Vernon Dursley. 'He's off with some of your lot, isn't he? Right, Dudley, let's get in the car, you heard the man, we're in a hurry.'Again, Vernon Dursley marched as far as the front door, but Dudley did not follow.'Off with some of our lot?'Hestia looked outraged. Harry had met the attitude before: witches and wizards seemed stunned that his closest living family took so little interest in the famous Harry Potter.'It's fine,' Harry assured her. 'It doesn't matter, honestly.''Doesn't matter?' repeated Hestia, her voice rising ominously.'Don't these people realise what you've been through? What danger you are in? The unique position you hold in the hearts of the anti-Voldemort movement?'Er - no, they don't,' said Harry. 'They think I'm a waste of space, actually, but I'm used to -''I don't think you're a waste of space.'If Harry had not seen Dudley's lips move, he might not have believed it.”

“Aunt Petunia burst into tears. Hestia Jones gave her an approving look that changed to outrage as Aunt Petunia ran forward and embraced Dudley rather than Harry.'S-so sweet, Dudders...' she sobbed into his massive chest. 'S-such a lovely b-boy...s-saying thank you...''But he hadn't said thank you at all!' said Hestia indignantly. 'He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!''Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like "I love you.”

“I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"Dudley and Piers sniggered."I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream.”

“They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. "Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper. "Make Harry get it.""Get the mail, Harry.""Make Dudley get it.""Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley.”

“Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings...Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public high school. Dudley thought this was very funny. "They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?" "No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it - it might be sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.”

“Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry. “And you?”“I’ll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I’m not there,” said Harry tonelessly.“Exactly,” said Uncle Vernon nastily. At eight-fifteen—”“I’ll announce dinner,” said Aunt Petunia.“And, Dudley, you’ll say —”“May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?” said Dudley.“And you?” said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry.“I’ll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I’m not there,” said Harry dully.“Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner.“How about — ‘We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you.’”This was too much for both Aunt Petunia and Harry. Aunt Petunia burst into tears while Harry ducked under the table so they wouldn’t see him laughing.“And you, boy?”Harry fought to keep his face straight as he emerged. “I’ll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I’m not there,” he said.”