Spark [J.K._Rowling]_Harry_Potter_and_the_Philosopher's_ | Page 51

THE LETTERS FROM NO ONE “Go to your cupboard — I mean, your bedroom,” he wheezed at Harry. “Dudley — go — just go.” Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn’t received his first letter. Surely that meant they’d try again? And this time he’d make sure they didn’t fail. He had a plan. The repaired alarm clock rang at six o’clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently He mustn’t wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights. He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door — “AAAAARRRGH!” Harry leapt into the air; he’d trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat — something alive! Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle’s face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn’t do exactly what he’d been try- ing to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon’s lap. Harry could see three letters ad- dressed in green ink. “I want —” he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes. ‘ 39 ‘