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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.
"今天沒有信件。"他開心得把應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砸在了他的后腦勺上。再下來，三十或者四十封信像子彈一樣從煙囪里飛了下來。德思禮一家嚇得躲到了一邊，哈利趁機跳起來去抓信——"出去！給我出去！"弗農姨父把哈利攔腰抱起丟進了客廳。佩妮姨媽和達力抱著臉跑出了廚房，弗農姨父砰的一聲把門關上了。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。“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. "甩掉他們……甩掉他們。"弗農姨父自言自語地說。
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.
