Oliver Night and the Philosopher Stone

The Vanishing Glass Part 1

REVIEW

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Private Road, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Oliver Night rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Adams scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Brain and also making a friend who was Harry Potter. . . . He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Oliver Night ---- the boy who lived!"

END OF REVIEW

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Nearly ten years had passed since the Adams had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Private Road had changed a bit when the new family moved in next door to the Adams, the Potters and their son Harry, who just had to be friends with Oliver. The sun rose on the same tidy front garden and lit up the brass number twelve on the Adams front door; it crept into their loving room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Adams had seen that fateful news repot about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantel piece really showed how much tome had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different colored bonnets --- but Brain Adams was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.

Yet Oliver Night was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Ruby was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Oliver woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched. Oliver heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before. 

His aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Oliver.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Brains birthday."

Oliver groaned.

"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing . . ."

Brians birthday --- how could he have forgotten? Oliver got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Oliver was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. the table was almost hidden beneath all Brians birthday presents. It looked as though Brain had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Brain wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Oliver. as Brian was very skinny and hated exercise --- unless of course it involved punching somebody. Brians favorite punching bag was Oliver, but he couldn't often catch him. Oliver didn't look it, but he was very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Oliver had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Brians, and Brian was about four times bigger than he was. Oliver had a thin face, knobby knees, blonde hair,  and hazel eyes. The only thing Oliver liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Ruby was how he had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don' ask questions."

Don't ask questions --- that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Adams.

Uncle Michael entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Michael looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Oliver needed a haircut. Oliver must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way --- all over the place.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Brain arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Brain looked a lot like Uncle Michael. He had a large pale face, a lot of neck, skinny, grayish eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, skiny head. Aunt Ruby often said that Brian looked like a baby angel --- Oliver often said that Brian looked like a pig in a wig.

Oliver put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Oliver, meanwhile was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Lisa's present, see, it's here under this one from Mummy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Brian, going red in he face. Oliver, who could see a huge Brain tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Brain turned the table over. 

Aunt Ruby obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll but you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

Brain thought for a moment. It looked like hard work Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty . . . thirty . . ."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Ruby.

"Oh." Brian sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel.

"All right then."

Uncle Michael chuckled.

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Done sorry for not updating for two days. Please forgive me since it was Christmas eve and Christmas. As a late Christmas gift tomorrow ill be giving you 3 chapters from this book.

Words - 1173

Date - 12/26/20