Chapter Eight
Aster was made to get the mail the next morning, and did it have a surprise for him. He trekked down the faded, flower-print carpet, hands shoved into his pockets. He was rolling a blue-ballpoint-pen cap between two fingers of his left hand.
He leafed through the letters, grimacing at a large close-up of his Aunt Marge's face. Aster hated her, and so did Harry. When they were nine, her dog, Ripper, which had such a charming name! chased poor Harry up a tree for five hours. Putting it at the bottom of the pile, he nearly gasped.
Aster C. Potter
Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey
The Cupboard Under the Kitchen Sink
Underneath that was a letter just like his, but addressed to Harry. Aster shuffled his and Harry's letters to the bottom of the pile, making sure they were unnoticeable. He walked back to the kitchen, feet dragging on the ground. He put the stack of letters on the table, making sure not to put his and Harry's letters. Aster shuffled to his seat, making sure to slip Harry his letter. The two twins began to open their letters, Aster making sure to keep silent, until-
Tear
The tearing of his letter sent a ripple through the kitchen. Vernon looked up, eyes gleaming with evil. "What was that?" He bellowed, sounding not unlike a bull. Aster desperately stuffed his letter into his pants pocket, but Harry wasn't so lucky. Dudley tore out the letter. "Potter's got a letter! Potter's got a letter!" Vernon grabbed it from him. He seemed about to say something, but then he went beet red, then vomit green, then stark white. His eyeballs looked ready to protrude from his poor skull. "P-p-petunia!" gasped Vernon.