The Vanishing Glass

           NearlytenyearshadpassedsincetheDursleyshadwokenup tofindtheirnephewonthefrontstep, butPrivetDrivehadhardlychangedatall. Thesunroseonthesametidyfrontgardens andlitupthebrassnumberfourontheDursleys’frontdoor; itcreptintotheirlivingroom, whichwasalmostexactlythesameasithadbeenonthenight whenMr.Dursleyhadseenthatfatefulnewsreportabouttheowls. Onlythephotographsonthemantelpiecereallyshowedhowmuchtimehadpassed. Tenyearsago,therehadbeenlotsofpicturesofwhatlookedlikealargepinkbeachballwearingdifferent-coloredbonnets —butDudleyDursleywasnolongerababy, andnowthephotographsshowedalargeblondboyridinghisfirstbicycle, onacarouselatthefair, playingacomputergamewithhisfather, beinghuggedandkissedbyhismother. Theroomheldnosignatallthatanotherboylivedinthehouse,too. 

           YetHarryPotterwasstillthere, asleepatthemoment,butnotforlong. HisAuntPetuniawasawakeanditwashershrillvoicethatmadethefirstnoiseoftheday. 

           "Up!Getup!Now!" 

           Harrywokewithastart. Hisauntrappedonthedooragain. 

           "Up!"shescreeched. Harryheardherwalkingtowardthekitchen andthenthesoundofthefryingpanbeingputonthestove. Herolledontohisbackandtriedtorememberthedreamhehadbeenhaving. Ithadbeenagoodone. Therehadbeenaflyingmotorcycleinit. Hehadafunnyfeelinghe’dhadthesamedreambefore.