Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone Chapter 2: The Vanishing Glass

Harry woke with a start.

He liked to complain about things:
people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank
and Harry were just a few of his favourite
subjects.

The sun
rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the
brass number four on the Dursleys’ front door; it
crept into their living-room, which was almost
exactly the same as it had been on the night when
Mr Dursley had seen that fateful news report about
the owls.

‘Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like
his father. Atta boy, Dudley!’

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back
from the barber’s looking as though he hadn’t been
at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut
his hair so short he was almost bald except for his
fringe, which she left ‘to hide that horrible scar’.

Harry supposed that
the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked
intently at the snake.

Harry, who could see a huge
Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down
his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned
the table over.

Only the photographs on the mantelpiece
really showed how much time had passed.

He ruffled Dudley’s
hair.

Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the
nearest parcel.

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the
table, which was difficult as there wasn’t much
room.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes.

In fact, he wasn’t
really crying, it had been years since he’d really
cried, but he knew that if he screwed up his face
and wailed, his mother would give him anything he
wanted.

Harry peered at it.

Piers was a scrawny
boy with a face like a rat.

Just then, the doorbell rang – ‘Oh, Good Lord,
they’re here!’ said Aunt Petunia frantically – and a
moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polkiss,
walked in with his mother.

His Aunt Petunia was
awake and it was her shrill voice which made the
first noise of the day.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to
the glass.

‘And come back and find the house in ruins?’
she snarled.

Piers was a scrawny
boy with a face like a rat.

The
only thing Harry liked about his own appearance
was a very thin scar on his forehead which was
shaped like a bolt of lightning.

‘Dinky Duddydums, don’t cry, Mummy won’t let
him spoil your special day!’ she cried, flinging her
arms around him.

The table was almost hidden beneath
all Dudley’s birthday presents.

Sometimes,
when he strained his memory during long hours in
his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a
blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on
his forehead.

Harry heard her walking
towards the kitchen and then the sound of the frying
pan being put on the cooker.

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign
again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred
in the zoo.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back
from the barber’s looking as though he hadn’t been
at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut
his hair so short he was almost bald except for his
fringe, which she left ‘to hide that horrible scar’.

The great
snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out on
to the floor – people throughout the reptile house
screamed and started running for the exits.

Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes
were on a level with Harry’s.

He liked to complain about things:
people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank
and Harry were just a few of his favourite
subjects.

Next morning,
however, he had got up to find his hair exactly as it
had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off.

The snake nodded vigorously.

Until they were, he couldn’t risk sneaking to
the kitchen for some food.

Dudley yelled between huge pretend sobs.

Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a
mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated
exercise – unless of course it involved punching
somebody.

Every year on Dudley’s birthday
his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to
adventure parks, hamburger bars or the cinema.

Sometimes,
when he strained his memory during long hours in
his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a
blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on
his forehead.

‘I’m warning you,’ he had said, putting his large
purple face right up close to Harry’s, ‘I’m warning
you now, boy – any funny business, anything at all
– and you’ll be in that cupboard from now until
Christmas.’

If there
was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than
his asking questions, it was his talking about
anything acting in a way it shouldn’t, no matter if it
was in a dream or even a cartoon – they seemed to
think he might get dangerous ideas.

Uncle
Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn’t
budge.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger too,
because she said quickly, ‘And we’ll buy you
another two presents while we’re out today. How’s
that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?’

Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the
boa constrictor’s tank had vanished.

He’d lived with the Dursleys almost ten years,
ten miserable years, as long as he could remember,
ever since he’d been a baby and his parents had
died in that car crash.

Aunt
Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the
wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn’t
punished.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt
Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle
Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a
cine-camera, a remote-control aeroplane, sixteen
new computer games and a video recorder.

‘What did you say?’ his aunt snapped through the
door.

Harry, who could see a huge
Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down
his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned
the table over.

Dudley came waddling towards them as fast as
he could.

‘Up!’ she screeched.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to
force him into a revolting old jumper of Dudley’s
(brown with orange bobbles).

‘Make it move,’ he whined at his father.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the
glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror but Harry’s
heart gave a leap.

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.

When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed
and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to
take him away, but it had never happened; the
Dursleys were his only family.

Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and
snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of
wood and stone.

‘I know,’ Harry murmured through the glass,
though he wasn’t sure the snake could hear him.

Aunt
Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the
wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn’t
punished.

He shuffled
away.

He managed to say,
‘Go – cupboard – stay – no meals,’ before he
collapsed into a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run
and get him a large brandy.

‘And come back and find the house in ruins?’
she snarled.

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.

‘Comb your hair!’ he barked, by way of a
morning greeting.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back
from the barber’s looking as though he hadn’t been
at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut
his hair so short he was almost bald except for his
fringe, which she left ‘to hide that horrible scar’.