Harry Potter And the Sorcerer’s Stone-（17）
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silentand tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect
astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his
blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter
beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing
he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few
hours’ time by Mrs. Dursley’s scream as she opened the front door
to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few
weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley. . . . He
couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret
all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in
hushed voices: “To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!” C H A P T E R ONE :END [attach]17355[/attach]
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