The Dursleys sank into silence. Harry heard a cereal commercial with nuts playing just as Mrs. Fig, an eccentric old lady from the neighboring Glyssinas Street who adored cats, was slowly walking down the street muttering with a frown. Harry was grateful to be hidden behind the hydrangea because lately, every time Mrs. Fig met him on the street, she invited him to her house for tea.

The old lady turned the corner and disappeared from sight when Uncle Vernon’s voice was heard again from the window.

"Did Duddy go out for tea?"

"The Polkis have invited him," Aunt Petunia said proudly. "He has so many friends, my darling is so beloved..."

Harry barely suppressed an ironic laugh that rose to his lips. The Dursleys were completely stupid when it came to their son Dudley. They were capable of believing whatever they were fed, that supposedly every afternoon of the summer holidays he was invited for tea by one of his friends’ parents, then another’s. Harry knew very well that Dudley was invited nowhere; he and his gang – better call it a gang – spent their nights wrecking the park playground, smoking in street corners, and throwing stones at passing cars and small children.