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Harry Potter
who has english original work of Harry Potter, and could you share with me, thank you. you can connect me. my QQ is 397703194. thank you.
the reason is very simple, I want to improve my english, so if you have, please share with me, thank you.
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Post comment Comment (3 replies)
- Reply snowflying
- my daughter like to see it too, but online.
- Reply The_Void
- Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say
that they were perfectly normal, thank 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. 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 amount 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 anywhere.
The Dursleys 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 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 to 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; they 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 the cloudy sky outside to suggest that
strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the
country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for
work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming
Dudley into his high chair.
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs.
Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed,
