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Harry Potter And the Sorcerer’s Stone-(29)
 
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“But the glass,” he kept saying, “where did the glass go?” 
 
The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, 
sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley 
could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn’t 
done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but 
by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudley was 
telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was 
swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for 
Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, “Harry was 
talking to it, weren’t you, Harry?” 
 
Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before 
starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. 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. 
 
Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. 
 
He didn’t know what time it was and he couldn’t be sure the Dursleys 
were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn’t risk sneaking to 
the kitchen for some food. 
 
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. He couldn’t remember 
being in the car when his parents had died. 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. This, he supposed, was the crash, though 
he couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from. He |   
 
 
                    
                     
 
 
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