Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
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| Mr. H. Potter
Room 17 Railview Hotel Cokeworth Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared. “I’ll take them,” said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and fol- lowing her from the dining room. THE LETTERS FROM NO ONE 43 “Wouldn’t it be better just to go home, dear?” Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn’t seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage. “Daddy’s gone mad, hasn’t he?” Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared. It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dud- ley sniveled. “It’s Monday,” he told his mother. “The Great Humberto’s on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television. ” Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Mon- day — and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television — then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry’s eleventh birthday. Of course, his birthdays were never ex- actly fun — last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks. Still, you weren’t eleven every day. Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carry- ing a long, thin package and didn’t answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he’d bought. “Found the perfect place!” he said. “Come on! Everyone out!” It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the CHAPTER THREE 44 rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there. “Storm forecast for tonight!” said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clap- ping his hands together. “And this gentleman’s kindly agreed to lend us his boat!” A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them. “I’ve already got us some rations,” said Uncle Vernon, “so all aboard!” It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slip- ping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house. The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms. Uncle Vernon’s rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up. “Could do with some of those letters now, eh?” he said cheer- fully. He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn’t cheer him up at all. As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce THE LETTERS FROM NO ONE 45 wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket. The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn’t sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley’s snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near mid- night. The lighted dial of Dudley’s watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he’d be eleven in ten minutes’ time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, won- dering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now. Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn’t going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he’d be able to steal one somehow. Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea? One minute to go and he’d be eleven. Thirty seconds . . . twenty . . . ten . . . nine — maybe he’d wake Dudley up, just to annoy him — three . . . two . . . one . . . BOOM. The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in. C H A P T E R F O U R 46 THE KEEPER OF THE KEYS OOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. “Where’s the cannon?” he said stupidly. There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skid- ding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands — now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them. “Who’s there?” he shouted. “I warn you — I’m armed!” There was a pause. Then — SMASH! The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was al- most completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. B THE KEEPER OF THE KEYS 47 The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm out- side dropped a little. He turned to look at them all. “Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey. . . .” He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear. “Budge up, yeh great lump,” said the stranger. Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon. “An’ here’s Harry!” said the giant. Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. “Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby,” said the giant. “Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mom’s eyes.” Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. “I demand that you leave at once, sir!” he said. “You are break- ing and entering!” “Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,” said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Ver- non’s hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room. Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on. “Anyway — Harry,” said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, “a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste all right.” From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly CHAPTER FOUR 48 squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Yüklə 3,2 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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