Dudley has a nice, relaxing few of weeks. He spent his time variously between going out with his old gang causing trouble, playing video games in his room and sittin in the kitchen watching the new TV—a welcome-home-for-the-summer present from his parents. At the end of July he waddled into the kitchen—Petunia had some bacon frying and Vernon was watching the news.
"...the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately."
"No need to tell us he's no good," snorted Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. "Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!"
"Hang on!" barked Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter. "You didn't tell us where that maniac's escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!"
Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window.
Dudley grabbed the remote and changed the channel, putting a comedy show on.
"When will they learn," said Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?"
"Very true," said Petunia, who was still squinting into next door's runner-beans.
Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch, and added, "I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten."
"Aunt Marge is coming?" Dudley asked, looking up from the TV.
Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. She lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out in Dudley's mind because she often bought him lavish presents and spent a lot of money on him.
At Dudley's fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Piers Polkiss around the shins with her walking stick to stop him from beating Dudley at musical statues. A few years later, she had turned up at Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley. For his eigth birthday she had treated Dudley and the whole family to a weekend at a theme park.
"Marge'll be here for a week," Vernon said. "And, Dudders, she doesn't know about you being a wizard ... I don't think she'd understand. So, please—listen, if you keep it quiet and tell her you're still at Smelting's I'll buy you a present when she goes home, what do you say, Dud?"
Dudley had a lot of money that he had inherited from the Potters as he was their last living relative through Lilly Potter. He had kept this quiet from his parents however.
"Mountain bike," Dudley said. "Gordon has one and Dennis is getting one for his birthday."
"You got it, Dud," Vernon said, ruffling Dudley's hair. "
"Well, Petunia," said Vernon, getting heavily to his feet, "I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"
"No," said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television.
"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie," said Petunia, smoothing Dudley's thick blond hair. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow-tie."
Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder.
"See you in a bit, then," he said, and he left the kitchen.
Thirty minutes later there was a crunch of gravel outside as Vernon's car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors and footsteps on the garden path.
Petunia opened the door.
On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Vernon: large, beefy, and purple-faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his. In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog.
"Petunia!" shouted Aunt Marge. Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunias bony cheekbone.
"Now, where's Dudders, where's my neffy-poo!"
"Hi, Aunt Marge," Dudley said. Hisblond hair was plastered to his head and he had a bowtie wedged under his many chins.
Aunt Marge seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug, and planted a large kiss on his cheek.
Dudley only put up with Aunt Marge's hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist.
Vernon now came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door.
"Tea, Marge?" he said. "And what will Ripper take?"
"Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer," said Aunt Marge as they all proceeded into the kitchen.
Aunt Marge was supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. Harry saw Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor. Aunt Petunia hated animals.
"Who's looking after the other dogs, Marge?" Vernon asked.
"Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them," boomed Aunt Marge. "He's retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn't leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he's away from me."
Ripper ran up and started to lick Dudley's hand. Dudley gave the dog a rub on its head. Dudley was fond of Ripper. Once, while taking Ripper for a walk, he had chased a younger boy at the park up a tree. Dudley had laughed until he cried.
"Glad to see they're feeding you well at Smelting's," Aunt Marge boomed. "You'll be a proper sized man, my lad, just like your father."
"How is it there, lad? Do they have a good sports program?"
Vernon looked worried.
Dudley thinking on his feet for once nodded. "Yeah, yeah they play loads of sports. I do erm ... boxing, and I do erm ... football, don't I dad?"
"Best in the year!" Vernon said, ruffling Dudley's hair.
"Atta boy! Boxing, the nobel sport. Just like your father—he was quite the athlete. Rugby wasn't it, Vernone?"
Dudley ate his cakes as his aunt and father reminisced about their younger days.
Over the next few days, Aunt Marge made herself at home and lavished Dudley with treats and advice about his future.
"Be good to think about it now, Dudders," she boomed over a sherry. "You've got your fathers physique and your mother's brains. You'll go far lad, any idea what you want to do?"
"None yet," Dudley said, frowning. He actually didn't know what wizards did after leaving school. He knew Ron had a brother working as a cursebreaker for a bank and another brother working with dragons. And Arthur was some sort of government worker. But beyond that, Dudley had no idea what wizards did.
"I see a doctor in you, Dudders—got the right brains for it, hasn't he Petunia?"
Aunt Marge also questioned him about his school friends. "You don't get any trouble there, Dudders?"
Dudley smirked. "None, and any trouble I have had, I've handled it. He pounded a meaty fist into his palm."
"Gave 'em the old one two, Dud?" Vernon asked.
"Yeah, there's this one boy Malfoy. I use him to practice my cur ..." Dudley had nearly said curses. "My boxing," Dudley corrected. "Stopped him from mouthing off at me."
"Good lad," Marge guffawed.
"And this little weirdo, Colin Creevey—he kept following me and my friends around."
"Trying to suck up to the cool kids. I know the sort," Marge nodded. "Bet he's a little, runt of a fellow? You get that with dogs."
"Yeah, well he doesn't any more," Dudley said, liking the admiration from Marge and Vernon for sticking up for himself.
At last, the final day of Aunt Marge's visit came. Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. They got all the way through the soup and the salmon and during the lemon meringue pie, Vernon bored them a with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Petunia made coffee and Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy.
"Dudley, my boy, what's your favorite subject sat your school?" Marge said, her face already a bit red.
"Dunno, really," Dudley said, eating his third slice of pie and not paying much attention. "I'm quite good at charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts, but some of the classes are pretty tough."
There was the sound of breaking glass—Vernon had just dropped his glass.
Dudley suddenly realised what he had said.
"Charms? Defence against the what?" Marge's eyes bulged.
"Self-defence classes, he means," Vernon said quickly. "Dudders is top of the class."
"Ah," Marge nodded. "Yes, with your boxing that's no surprise. And what was the other one, charms? What's that, never heard of it."
"Charms is ..." Vernon began, clearly thinking hard. "Is how to conduct oneself in society—to be charming."
Dudley nodded and mouthed "good cover" to his dad.
"Notice Dudders, bow tie? He learnt how to tie it in charms class."
Marge was satisfied at that and belched loudly. "Forgive me, terrific nosh, Petunia. Always good skills to have, Dudders. Be charming and you'll get ahead in life, mark my words."
Dudley was quite relieved to see the back of Aunt Marge, not because he disliked her, but because he now didn't have to worry about accidentally saying something about his school.
True to his word, Vernon bought him a nice, shiny, red mountain bike—a more expensive brand than the one Gordon had.