"But Damien's been going to real school, with real children," sputtered Dudley.
"And he can continue to," said Harry, ignoring Dudley's jibe at wizards, "but from what you've told me and from what I think you've already figured out; when he turns eleven, he will get a letter to Hogwarts. You can't keep him from it. It's his birthright," said Harry.
"My father is going to have a heart attack," murmured Dudley, as he gazed helplessly about Harry's very foreign kitchen. There was nothing he would be able to do to make breaking the news to his father any easier. Ever since the year they had been hidden away by wizards, Vernon Dursley had not mentioned the dreaded M word. His mother might be a little more understanding. Either way, Dudley had no inclination to further acquaint himself with a world which decidedly considered his kind inferior. As much as Harry talked about equality, and respecting "muggle-borns," and "muggles," Dudley knew that Harry still considered wizards superior to normal folk. But what pained Dudley most was that he knew his connection to his son would be lost. His son would become integrated in a world where robes and pointy hats were the norm. He had so many dreams for his son, the least of which involved Damien flying cleaning supplies. Yet here he was with this undeniable knowledge. How would he tell Andrea?
"Harry, thanks for having us, but I'm going to take my son home now." ." Dudley stood up with the look of a man much older than his years.
Back at home, Dudley sat on the edge of his bed, his face buried in his hands. It was not the end of the world, but he felt as though it might be. Damien was almost ten years old, there was not enough time. All Dudley had ever done was make sure his son had gone want for nothing, and how was he repaid for it all; by having his child ripped away from him. What if Damien came back from his first year and decided that he could no longer relate to his parents, that he no longer found the normal world to be adequate enough for him? Adolescent boys had enough of a difficult time relating to their parents without there being a literal world of difference between them.
"Dad," Damien's voice broke into Dudley's thoughts. Dudley quickly sat up and straightened his tie.
"Yes, son?"
"I'm sorry about chasing Albus today. We just meant it in good fun," Damien looked at his feet as he murmured his apology. Dudley stared at his son in confusion. It was highly unusual that his son felt such a degree of remorse for his cousin's misery.
"Damien, what did you tell your mother about today?"
"She asked why we were home so early, and I told her it was because James and I got in trouble for chasing Albus... Then she said I had to come and properly apologize to you." Dudley gaped at his son. Of course Damien would think their early departure was in direct connection for his behavior.
Andrea's high-heeled shoes could be heard clunking up the stairs,
"And don't just apologize to your father. Use that owl to write your cousin a proper apology. He has enough trouble with one bully for a big brother. I will not tolerate a bully in my house." Damien looked at his father with pleading eyes, but received no rescue,
"You heard your mother, get to writing that apology. We don't house that blasted bird for nothing."