metal tub in the sio have a look. the tub was full of
what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.
”whats this?” he asked auuightened as
they always did if he dared to ask a question.
”your new s,” she said.
harry looked in the bowl again.
”oh,” he said, ”i did had to be so wet.”
”dota be stupid,” s petunia. ”im dyeing some of
dudleys old things gray for you. itll look just like everyone
elses when ive finished.”
harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to
argue. he sat dowable ao think about how
he was going to look on his first day at stonewall high -- like he
was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.
dudley and une in, both with wrinkled noses
beell from harrys new uniform. un opened
his neer as usual and dudley banged his smelting stick, which
he carried everywhere, oable.
they heard the ail slot and flop of letters on
the doormat.
”get the mail, dudley,” said un behind his paper.
”make harry get it.”
”get the mail, harry.”
”make dudley get it.”
”poke him with y stick, dudley.”
harry dodged the smelting stit to get the mail. three
things lay o: a post uns sister
marge, who was vag o, a brown envelope
that looked like a bill, aer for harry.
harry picked it up a, his heart twanging like a
giaio one, ever, in his whole life, had written to
him. who would? he had no friends, ives -- he didnt
belong to the library, so hed rude notes asking for
books back. yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there
o mistake:
mr. h. potter
the cupboard uhe