Thud, thud, thud. Heavy footsteps came from the stairs.
Dudley Dursley waddled over from upstairs. He tugged off the boxing gloves on his hands and tossed them aside. Fresh from his workout, his blond hair lay flat against his broad, flat head, his face was flushed, and sweat covered his forehead, his several chins, and his neck.
The boy was still as huge as ever, but ever since he had won the Southeast Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Championship in Harry's fifth year, he had not been quite so strict about his diet. He had kept up the exercise, though, and that gave Uncle Vernon, after moving to a new place, something to boast about to everyone he met: his son's achievements in that field.
Marge looked at the sweat stains and gave up on the idea of hugging her darling nephew tightly, but she still stuffed several banknotes into Dudley's sweaty hand. "Diddykins, go and wash up. Auntie brought you cake."
"Aunt Marge, my boxing gloves happen not to match the new punching bag in my gym." After grinning his thanks at Marge, Dudley complained to his mother, "Mum, it's not as convenient to buy boxing gloves in this neighborhood as it was on Privet Drive."
Petunia walked over and lovingly wiped the sweat from Dudley's neck. "I'll drive you there tomorrow. Come and have some cake."
Dudley grinned. He casually tossed the gloves away, raised his thick index finger, still steaming with sweat, and said to his mother, "I want a big piece, and Cola..."
"Dudley, you ought to take a shower and maintain a neat appearance." Vernon frowned a little at the sight of his son, but lowered his voice into a gentle, coaxing tone. Then he stroked the neatly combed beard on his chin and raised his