Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Harry Potter, #1)

by J.K. Rowling

shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn’t stop there. Within seconds it was the greyish white of old porridge. ‘P-P-Petunia!’ he gasped. Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise. ‘Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!’ They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn’t used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smeltings stick. ‘I want to read that letter,’ he said loudly. ‘I want to read it,’ said Harry furiously, ‘as it’s mine.’ ‘Get out, both of you,’ croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope. Harry didn’t move. ‘I WANT MY LETTER!’ he shouted. ‘Let me see it!’ demanded Dudley. ‘OUT!’ roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor. ‘Vernon,’ Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, ‘look at the address – how could they possibly know...