On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.
“No post on Sundays,” he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, “no damn letters today—”
Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one —
“Out! OUT!”
Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.
“That does it,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. “I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!”
He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.
They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.
“Shake ‘em off… shake ‘em off,” he would mutter whenever he did this.
They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.
Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering…
They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.
“'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an ‘undred of these at the front desk.”
She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:
Mr. H. Potter
Room 17
Railview Hotel
Cokeworth
Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared.
“I'll take them,” said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.
星期天早上,維能姨丈終于可以坐在桌旁吃早餐了。他看上去疲憊不堪,但是非常開心。
"今天沒有信件。"他開心得把應(yīng)該涂在面包上的蜜糖醬往報紙上涂。"今天沒有那些該死的信件——"在他說話的時候,廚房的煙囪一直颼颼作響,接著有什么東西突然掉在了他的后腦勺上。再下來,三十或者四十封信像子彈一樣從煙囪里飛了下來。杜斯利一家嚇得躲到了一邊,哈利趁機(jī)跳起來抓到了一封——"出去!給我出去!"維能姨丈把哈利攔腰抱起丟進(jìn)了客廳。帕尤妮亞姨媽和達(dá)德里抱著臉跑出了廚房,維能姨丈砰的一聲把門關(guān)上了。他們還可以聽到那些信通過煙囪掉在墻上和地板上的聲音。
"就這樣辦吧,"維能姨丈一邊拔下一搓胡子一邊盡量平靜地說,"我命令你們用五分鐘的時間收拾好東西準(zhǔn)備離開。我們必須離開這里,只許帶幾件衣服,不要跟我講條件!"他看上去十分可怕,因?yàn)樗暮右驯话稳チ艘话?,于是沒有人敢反抗。十分鐘以后,他們已經(jīng)拆掉被打死的門坐到了車子里,向高速公路開去。達(dá)德里在后座上哭哭啼啼,因?yàn)閯倓偹陌职忠驗(yàn)樗⒄`了時間而打了他的頭。當(dāng)時達(dá)德里試著把他的電視機(jī)、錄像機(jī)和電腦通通裝進(jìn)旅行袋。
他們不停地朝前開著車,帕尤妮亞姨媽都不敢問他們是到哪里去。維能姨丈會不時地來一個急轉(zhuǎn)彎或者朝相反的方向開上好一陣子。
"甩掉他們……甩掉他們。"維能姨丈自言自語地說。
他們一整天都沒有停下來吃東西或喝一口水。到天黑的時候,達(dá)德里開始號啕大哭起來,他一輩子都沒有遇到過這么糟糕的一天。他餓極了。他錯過了他想看的五檔電視節(jié)目,他從來沒有這么久沒去電腦上打游戲了。
終于維能姨文在一個大城市郊外的一間看上去破破爛爛的旅館外停下了車。達(dá)德里和哈利同住一個雙人間。床上的床單潮濕而且發(fā)了霉,但是達(dá)德里很快就打起了鼾,可哈利怎么也睡不著。他坐在窗臺上,盯著下面一輛輛飛馳而過的車,陷入了沉思……
第二天他們的早餐是發(fā)霉的玉米片,冷的罐頭馬鈴薯夾吐司。
正要吃完的時候,旅館的老板走過桌子旁邊。
"打擾一下,你們中間有一位哈利·波特先生嗎?我在前臺收到了許多給他的信。"她把信舉在手上好讓每個人看清那個用綠色墨水寫的地址:叩可文斯鎮(zhèn)鐵路旅館
"把它們都給我吧。"維能姨丈快速地起身來跟著老板娘走出了餐廳。