Vernon made a displeased noise from behind the paper again. Not moving. That meant they were stuck in this ruddy spell hole for a while longer. And the women had the audacity to speak of sacrifices. It was a sacrifice taking in Petunia's nephew, but he'd done it, and now look where it had got him, living with a couple of nutters in the middle of nowhere.
His face twisted nastily when the Jones woman chastised him for asking after the boy. He could hardly be blamed for wanting to know whether or not Harry'd expect to be invited to Christmas dinners from now on. (He wouldn't, if Vernon had anything to say about it, incidentally.)
"Now see here," he began, snapping the paper down from his face. "I--," he paused, just then registering what else she'd said.
"What do you mean, searched?" he barked. "Chaos?" He could feel his blood pressure rising, knowing that a whole lot of mad kooks had been rifling through his things. His mustache quivered as he fixed her with a beady look.