CHAPTER TWO
wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike.
Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry,
as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise — unless of course it in-
volved punching somebody. Dudley’s favorite punching bag was
Harry, but he couldn’t often catch him. Harry didn’t look it, but he
was very fast.
Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard,
but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked
even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to
wear were old clothes of Dudley’s, and Dudley was about four
times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees,
black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held to-
gether with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had
punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his
own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was
shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could re-
member, and the first question he could ever remember asking his
Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.
“In the car crash when your parents died,” she had said. “And
don’t ask questions.”
Don’t ask questions — that was the first rule for a quiet life with
the Dursleys.
Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the
bacon.
“Comb your hair!” he barked, by way of a morning greeting.
About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his
newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must
have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put
20