The Vanishing Glass
together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that
way — all over the place.
Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen
with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a
large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick
blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia
often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel — Harry often said
that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.
Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was
difficult as there wasn’t much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was
counting his presents. His face fell.
“Thirty-six,” he said, looking up at his mother and father.
“That’s two less than last year.”
“Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s
here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy.”
“All right, thirty-seven then,” said Dudley, going red in the face.
Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began
wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned
the table over.
Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said
quickly, “And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out
today. How’s that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?”
Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally
he said slowly, “So I’ll have thirty . . . thirty . . .”
“Thirty-nine, sweetums,” said Aunt Petunia.
“Oh.” Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel.
“All right then.”
Uncle Vernon chuckled.
21