saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

THE VANISHING GLASS

 

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew

on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on

the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys'

front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same

as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report

about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much

time had passed.

 

Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink

beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets -- but Dudley Dursley was no longer

a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first

bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father,

being hugged and kissed by his mother.

 

The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.

 

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.