On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof

of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as

much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney.

The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling

them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he

shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind

the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must

have caught him in mid- jump.

 

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley

and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or

Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

 

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain

about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry

were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

 

"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle

overtook them.

 

I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was

flying."

 

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his

seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: