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Harry Potter And the Sorcerer’s Stone-(29)
“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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