章节_8

e. the only thing harry liked about his oearance

was a very thin s his forehead that ed like a bolt

of lightning. he had had it as long as he ber, and the

first question he could ever remember asking his auunia was

how he had gotten it.

”in the car your parents died,” she had said. ”and

dont ask questions.”

dont ask questions -- that was the first rule for a quiet life

with the dursleys.

uered the kit as harry was turning over

the ba.

”b your hair!” he barked, by way reeting.

about once a week, un looked over the top of his

neer a harry needed a haircut. harry must have

had more hair the rest of the boys in his class put

together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that

way -- all over the place.

harry was fryihe time dudley arrived i

with his mother. dudley looked a lot like un. he had a

large pi mueck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick

blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. auunia

often said that dudley looked like a baby angel -- harry often said

that dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

harry put the plates of egg and ba the table, which was

difficult as there wasnt mu. dudley, meanwhile, was g

his presents. his face fell.

”thirty-six,” he said, looking up at his mother and

father. ”thats two less than last year.”

”darling, you havent ted auntie marges present, see,

its here uhis big one from mommy and daddy.”

”all right, thirty-seven then,” said dudley, goihe

face. harry, who could see a huge dudley tantrum ing on, began

wolfing down his ba as fast as possible iurned

the table over.

auunia obviously sger, too, because she said

quid well buy you awo presents while were out

today. hows that, popkin? two more presents. is that all right

dudley thought for a moment. it looked like hard work. finally

he said slowly, ”so ill have thirty ... thirty...”

”thirty-ums,” said auunia.

”oh.” dudley sat down heavily ahe

parcel. ”all right then.”

un chuckled. ”little tyke wants his moneys worth,

just like his father. atta boy, dudley!” he ruffled dudleys hair.

at that momeeleph auo

a while harry and uched dudley un the

rag bike, a video camera, a remote trol airplaeen

er games, and a vcr. he ing the paper off a gold

heunia came ba the telephone looking

both angry and worried.

”bad news, vernon,” she said. ”mrs. figgs br. she

t take him.” she jerked her head in harrys dire.

dudleys mouth fell open in horror, but harrys heart gave a

leap. every year on dudleys birthday, his parents took him and a

friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants,

or the movies. every year, harry was left behind with mrs. figg, a

mad old lady who lived two streets away. harry hated it there. the

whole house smelled of d mrs. figg made him look at

photographs of all the cats shed ever owned.

”now etunia, looking furiously at harry as

though hed plahis. harry ko feel sorry that

mrs. figg had br, but it wasnt easy when he reminded

himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at tibbles,

snowy, mr. paws, and tufty again.

”we arge,” un suggested.

”dont be silly, verhe boy.”

the dursleys ofte harry like this, as though he

wasnt there -- or rather, as though he was somethiy

that t uhem, like a slug.

”what about whats-her-name, your friend -- yvonne?”

”on vaajorapped auunia.

”you could just leave me here,” harry put in hopefully (hed be

able to ae