C H A P T E R O N E
THE WORST BIRTHDAY
N
ot for the first time, an argument had broken out over
breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Durs-
ley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a loud,
hooting noi se from his nephew Harry’s room.
“Third time this week!” he roared across the table. “If you can’t
control that owl, it’ll have to go!”
Harry tried, yet again, to explain.
“She’s bored,” he said. “She’s used to flying around outside. If I
could just let her out at night —”
“Do I look stupid?” snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dan-
gling from his bushy mustache. “I know what’ll happen if that
owl’s let out.”
He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia.
Harry tried to argue back but his words were drowned by a long,
loud belch from the Dursleys’ son, Dudley.
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