The Hallows, The Hallows. A Desperate Man’s

Don't, Ginny, We'll Send You Loads Of Owls. We'll Send You A Hogwarts Toilet Seat. George! Only Joking, Mum.

Mr. And Mrs. Dursley, Of Number Four, Privet Drive, Were Proud To Say That They Were Perfectly Normal, Thank You Very Much. They Were The Last People You'd Expect To Be Involved In Anything Strange Or Mysterious, Because They Just Didn't Hold With Such Nonsense.

Your Great Puddin' Of A Son Don' Need Fattin' Anymore Dursley, Don't Worry

You Care So Much You Feel As Though You Will Bleed To Death With The Pain Of It.

No, Thanks," Said Harry. "the Toilet's Never Had Anything As Horrible As Your Head Down It— It Might Be Sick." Then He Ran, Before Dudley Could Work Out What He'd Said.