Are you up yet? she demanded.
Nearly, said Harry.
Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And dont you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddys birthday.
Harry groaned.
What did you say? his aunt snapped through the door.
Nothing, nothing
Dudleys birthday how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.
When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudleys birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had got the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudleys favourite punch-bag was Harry, but he couldnt often catch him. Harry didnt look it, but he was very fast.
Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudleys and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair and bright-green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Sellotape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead which was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had got it.
In the car crash when 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.
Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.
Comb your hair! he barked, by way of a morning greeting.
About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than 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 frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large, pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes and thick, blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia 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 bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasnt much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting 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 counted Auntie Marges present, see, its here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy.
All right, thirty-seven then, said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.
Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger too, because she said quickly, And well buy you another two 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-nine, sweetums, said Aunt Petunia.
Oh. Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. All right then.
Uncle Vernon chuckled.
Little tyke wants his moneys worth, just like his father. Atta boy, Dudley! He ruffled Dudleys hair.
At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a cine-camera, a remote-control aeroplane, sixteen new computer games and a video recorder. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone, looking both angry and worried.
Bad news, Vernon, she said. Mrs Figgs broken her leg. She cant take him. She jerked her head in Harrys direction.
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 bars or the cinema. 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 cabbage and Mrs Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats shed ever owned.
Now what?
said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though hed planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs Figg had broken her leg, 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.