Oh, Vernon was most definitely, positively, NOT happy, nor was he impressed! Not only had the boy gotten himself into some trouble, he, yes HE(/HIM), had to go visit that-that.... that, "Freak School", yes, he thought, that's it, that's the right phrase.
He crumpled the letter in his hand.
(Not so gently, mind you)
"Petunia," he spat. "Petunia, dear," he said, more 'delicately' this time. "It's-it's the boy.. he's gotten himself into a spot of bother... I.. I have to go to the.. that.. um.. that Freak School".
And, what happened next, well it was unpleasant, to say the least.
Petunia let out a deafening shriek.
"Oh that boy," she wailed, all the while burying her forehead in her rough hands.
"He's always brought us so, so much trouble... Oh Vernon," she said, almost soothingly.
"Please, please don't tell me I have to go?"
"Nonsense," Vernon Spat, almost cruelly, sourly, in fact. "It's me" he continued.
"The Freaks, have summoned me. Who knows what kind of.. experiments they'll do," Vernon added as an afterthought
"Oh Vernon," Petunia wailed, continuously
Approximately Two, painful hours later
Vernon sat in one of the many hallways of Hogwarts, waiting for this "Dolores". He was absolutely disgusted, repulsed, even.
"How dare they just demand to see me?" Vernon would ask himself occasionally as time passed.
And then suddenly, something so very unexpected happened. A woman, in her late thirties, early forties, started walking down the hall, towards Vernon.
She was... She was, beautiful?! Vernon asked himself in a state of shock.
"But surely, those- the freaks, couldn't be.. this, this beautiful? Could they?"
"No," that's ridiculous, Vernon thought. "Maybe she's lost?"
"Yes, yes, that'll be it!" He smiled at himself, happy that he was right. It was then, that he was pulled out of his thoughts, by the most deliciously, amazing, sweet voice. The words she spoke sounded almost pleasant to Vernon. Almost.
"Ah-ha, Mr. Dursley," she started. "I'm so glad you could make it," she smiled, pleasantly.
"I hardly had a choice, did I?" Vernon muttered under his breath.
"Yes, well" she continued, rather... Flustered. "It's unfortunate that young..." she hesitated, as if it painted her to say the next word, which just so happened to be..
"Harry won't just put his silly stubbornness aside,"
"He could be," she continued. "Much better, with the right guidance, of course".
Vernon was starstruck, to say the least. How could this, this woman, this.. freak, be so beautiful and so.. wise, so clever, so.. educated? So.. normal? So.. pink.. so perfect... So unlike Petunia?
"If you'll follow me to my office,' she gestured towards a door at the bottom of the hall.
"Right you are," Vernon replied, trying to sound authoritative, but failing, miserably.
When they had arrived at their destination, inside her office - Vernon was shocked to see such a well-decorated room. There were beautiful plates, with even more beautiful cats. Marge would approve.
Yes, Marge would approve. Petunia would wrinkle her nose, and pretend to be repulsed, but actually feel very, very jealous.
"Now," Umbridge began. "I wish you'd be more... Authoritative, with young Harry, punish him more.. strictly.
"But," she continued. "I will not judge you for your past.. mistakes, I imagine the wife, err, what was it, Petunia, had something to do with the 'softness' no, he'd get none of that from me, I tell you." Dolores promised, waggling a finger as she poured herself a cup of steaming tea, offering Vernon the same, to which he agreed, dreamily.
"Oh I'm sure," Vernon said, almost wistfully. Yes, in fact, it was said very wistfully indeed.