"Bye, Aunt Marge!" Harry called, "Thanks for the jumper and the chocolate!"
"Talk to you later, love," Vernon called after his sister.
"Bye, Aunt Marge," Dudley called. Behind him, Petunia waved as well.
As her car pulled away around the corner, all three of the Dursley males sighed and slumped. "That jumper," Vernon announced, "is a new level of amazing, even for my sister."
"It's… it's…" Dudley couldn't seem to find the words.
"Very orange," Harry said. "And lime. And, I don't know, mum, what color would you call this?" He pointed at one of the stripes on the jumper.
Petunia tilted her head and considered. "I'd call it 'magenta,' but I'm not certain I've ever seen a color that… intense."
"Also," Harry noted, "I'm sweating like dad in the last three moves in a chess game." He shrugged out of the jumper and gasped theatrically for air.
"Oy!" Vernon groused and pretended to take a swipe at Harry, who ducked and grinned.
The grin was weak, though. He sighed. "We should have a talk," he said.
"Yeah," Dudley agreed.
Vernon and Petunia looked at each other, then Vernon nodded, and Petunia said, "I'll go get the letter."
A short time later they were seated again at the dining table that so much of the family's activity centered on, the place of pretty much every good meal Harry ever remembered having, the battlefield for many a chess game, a place where homework got done until Petunia decided the two boys would do it unsupervised and therefore, could use their bedrooms.
"Go ahead, Harry," Petunia said as she handed him the letter.
Harry stared at the envelope, where his name and address were written in fancy calligraphy. Then he tore open the envelope and pulled out a pair of parchment sheets. He scanned the first page and started to read. "'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,' he read, voice dull. "'Headmaster Albus Dumbledore,' what kind of bloody name is 'Dumbledore?'"
"Language, Harry," Petunia said.
"Sorry, mum. "'Order of Merlin, First Class,'" he continued, "'Grand Sorc.,' whatever that means, 'Chf,'" he pronounced it "chuff," "Warlock, Supreme Mugwump,' oh, they made that up, that's not a real word! 'International Confed. of Wizards.'"
"I think that's probably meant to mean 'sorcerer,' Dudley suggested, "and 'chief.' What?" he asked, at Harry's look, "I'm good in English. Terrible at maths, but."
"And you spend too much time reading those silly fantasy books," Petunia told him.
"The Lord of the Rings," Dudley told his mother, "is a great work of classic fantasy, and a milestone of British literature."
""Nerd,"" Harry and Vernon both muttered, then high-fived each other with matching grins.
Petunia sighed. "Three children," she muttered, "it's like having three children." She ignored Vernon's obvious guffaw. "Go on, then," she said.
"'Dear Mr. Potter,
"'We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
''Yours sincerely,'" and he paused to work out the name. "'Minerva… McGonagall,'" he said, "'Deputy Headmistress.' Wizards don't half like their titles, do they?" he asked his family.
He moved on to the second page. "This is just a list of supplies to bring," he told them. "'Three sets of plain work robes? One plain, pointed black hat for day wear? One pair of protective gloves… dragonhide or similar?!'" Harry groaned. "This is mad," he said, "absolutely mad. 'One winter cloak, black with silver fastenings.' Well, I guess that's sort of normal. If you're going to a Renaissance Fair." He side-eyed Dudley. "Because you're a nerd."
Dudley crossed his arms and glared at his cousin-cum-brother. "Go to your dumb wizard world," he told Harry with a nod. "I can have both our rooms, and not have to put up with your cheek." He grinned, but there was also a concern visible in his eyes. "And also, you can turn into a huge nerd, with magic and dragons and all."
Harry ignored him, though a small smile was visible as he continued. "That's just the uniform," he announced. "It lists a bunch of books on magic, a wand, a cauldron, a set of glass or crystal phall… oh, no, sorry, it says 'phials.' Not what I thought. What's a 'phial,'" he asked, curious, over Vernon's snorting laughter.
"Just a fancy way to say 'vial,'" Dudley told him, "like for chemistry." He pointed a finger at Harry and said, "Don't start, you."
"They should just say that," Harry said. He scanned the rest of the page. "Also a telescope, that would be kind of cool, anyway, brass scales, wait, 'may bring an owl or a cat or a toad?! Where are you even supposed to buy an owl? Isn't that illeg… bloody hell!"
"Harry, language!" Petunia snapped.
"Sorry, mum, but… 'Parents are reminded that first years are not allowed their own broomstick.' Seriously? Pointed black hats and cats and broomsticks? It's like, like… they're trying to hit every 'witch' cliche there is."
"Nerd," Dudley muttered, but his heart didn't seem in it.
"Where do you even buy all this rubbish?" Harry asked. "They don't even mention composition books or brios or anything useful. Do they provide that? Why would they give you that and not all the weird stuff?"
"They have their own shopping district," Petunia said with a sigh. "I went once with Lily." She got up and went to pour another cup of tea. "You get to the school by train," she said, over her shoulder, "they have some sort of magical platform at King's Cross." She sounded vague, the way she always did when she was worried about something.
"Do I have to go?" Harry asked. "Can they make me?"
"No," Vernon said, voice firm. "They can't. Or they won't, I don't care which." He had a gleam in his eye. Then he sighed and rubbed his face. "We should discuss it, though," he told Harry, "that's what we do in this family, right?"
Harry and Dudley mumbled their agreement.
"Get out your notepad and brio, Harry," Petunia said as she returned to the table. "We'll write down all the pros and cons."
Harry did as instructed, held his pen above a blank page, considered for a moment, then said, "Cons, a bunch of mad wizards and witches," and wrote in his book.
"Pros," Dudley added, "a bunch of mad wizards and witches."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Only you would consider that a pro," he said. He didn't have the energy to add his usual "nerd" accusation to the ending. "Fine, I'll put it as both, happy?"
"Not really," Dudley admitted
"Con..." Vernon began.