The Vanishing Glass
Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not
for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice
that made the first noise of the day.
“Up! Get up! Now!”
Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.
“Up!” she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the
kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the
stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he
had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying
motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he’d had the same dream
before.
His aunt was back outside the door.
“Are you up yet?” she demanded.
“Nearly,” said Harry.
“Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And
don’t you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy’s
birthday.”
Harry groaned.
“What did you say?” his aunt snapped through the door.
“Nothing, nothing . . .”
Dudley’s birthday — how could he have forgotten? Harry got
slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair
under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them
on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the
stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.
When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen.
The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley’s birthday pres-
ents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he
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