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    Harry looked in the bowl again.

    "Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

    "DotA be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

    Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to 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 Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

    They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. 

    "Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

    "Make Harry get it."

    "Get the mail, Harry."

    "Make Dudley get it."
    "Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

    Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and -- a letter for Harry.