the parselmouth

Chapter 3

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 and i were left to find the softest bit of floor we could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket, lucky for us it was big enough for both of us.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry nor myself couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, my stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry we'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched our birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, and wondering where the letter writer was now.

Harry started to whisper

"Five minutes to go." We heard something creak outside." I hope the roof wasn't going to fall in, although I 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 Harry and I would 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 we'd be eleven." " Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten...

nine -- "maybe we should wake Dudley up, just to annoy him" -- "three... two...

one..."

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered Harry and I sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon." he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding 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 almost 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.

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 outside 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 and Echo!" said the giant.

I 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 baby's," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes both of yeh Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

I demand that you leave at once!" he said. "You are breaking 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 Vernon'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.