That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone. And there was his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank dowm to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.
--- p. 212
'Oh, I will' said Harry and they weresurprises at the grin that was spreading over his face. 'They don't know we we're not allowes to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer...'
--- p.309
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amoung of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy any where. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that someobody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible t be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; tey didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that. When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about that cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country
--- p.
It was Quirrell. 'You!'gasped Harry. Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all. 'Me,' he said calmly. 'I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter.'
'But I thought - Snape-'
'Severus?' Quirrell laughed and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, eiter, but cold and sharp. 'Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would supect p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?'
--- p.209
HARRY POTTER has never played a sport while flying on a broomstick. He's never worn a cloak of invisibility, befriended a giant, or helped hatch a dragon, All Harry knows is amiserable life with the Dursleys, his hirrible aunt and uncle, and their abominable son, Dudley.
But all that is about to change when a mysterious letter arrives by owl messenger: a letter with an invitation to a wonderful place he never dreamed existed.
--- bookcover