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Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.
第二天吃早餐的时候，没有一个人开口说话。达力大发雷霆。不管他怎样尖叫，怎样用他的棍子使劲地打他的爸爸，故意装病也好，踢他的妈妈也好，甚至把他的宝贝乌龟从温室顶上丢下去，他都没法要回自己的房间。哈利则在想着昨天的这个时候，要是自己在楼下的时候就把信拆了就好了。佩妮姨妈和弗农姨父则面色阴沉地看着对方
When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it.
They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, “There's another one! ‘Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive — ' ”With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him.
Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.
“Go to your cupboard — I mean, your bedroom,” he wheezed at Harry. “Dudley — go — just go.”
Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan.
