Harry Potter And the Sorcerer’s Stone-（18） number, living, exactly, into

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C H A P T E R T W O

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.

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