Oliver Night and the Philosopher Stone

The Boy who Lived Part 1

Mr. and Mrs. Adams, of number twelve, Private Road, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, that you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

 Mr. Adams was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a skinny, lean, man with a long neck, and blonde short hair. Mrs. Adams was a thin and had brunet hair and a normal looking neck, which came useful when gossiping with her neighbors about the weirdos that lived neck door.  The Adams had a small son called Brian and in their opinion there was no finder boy anywhere. 

The Adams had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Nights. Mr. Night was Mrs. Adams bother, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs Adams pretended she didn't have a brother, because her brother and hid good-for-nothing-husband were as unAdamish as it was possible to be. The Adams shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Nights arrived in the street. the Adams knew that the Nights had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Nights away; they didn't want Brain mixing with a child like that. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Adams woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story start, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Adams hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Adam gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Brian into his high chair. 

None of them noticed a large, Tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr Adams picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Adams on the cheek, and tried to kiss Brain good-bye but missed, because Brain was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Adam as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number twelve road.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar --- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Adams didn't realize what he had seen --- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Private Road, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Adam blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Adams drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the car in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Private Road --- no, looking at the sign; cat couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Adams gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. 

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Adams couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes --- the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Adams was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr Adams that this was probably some silly stunt --- these people were obviously collecting for something . . . yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minuets later, Mr Adams arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr Adams always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did;  they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Adams, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a but more. He was in a very good mood until lunch-time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words off what they were saying. 

"The Nights, that's right, that's what I heard ---"

"--- yes, their son, Oliver ---"

Mr. Adams stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. 

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his chin, thinking . . . no, he was being stupid. Night wasn't suck and unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Night who had a son called Oliver. Come to thing of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Oliver. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Owen. Or Noah. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Adam; she always got so upset at any mention of her brother. He didn't blames her --- if he'd had a brother like that . . . but all the same, those people in cloaks . . .

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Done with the first part of this. Don't worry this book would probably be done all today and maybe even the second book. I don't know but I hope you guys will like it so fay

WORDS- 1173

Date - 12/23/20