WutYee/HarryPotter_books_1to7 · Datasets at Hugging Face

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Dudley and Piers sniggered.
“I know they don’t,” said Harry. “It was only a dream.”
But he wished he hadn’t said anything. If there was one thing the
Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about
anything acting in a way it shouldn’t, no matter if it was in a dream or even a
cartoon — they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas.
It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The
Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and
then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before
they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn’t
bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head
who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn’t blond.
Harry had the best morning he’d had in a long time. He was careful to
walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were
starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn’t fall back on their
favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley
had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn’t have enough ice cream on
top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the
first.
Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to
last.
After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there,
with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and
snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and
Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons.
Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its
body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a trash can — but at
the moment it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the
glistening brown coils.
“Make it move,” he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the
glass, but the snake didn’t budge.
“Do it again,” Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly
with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.
“This is boring,” Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.
Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He
wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company
except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all
day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only
visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got
to visit the rest of the house.
The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised
its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry’s.
It winked.
Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was
watching. They weren’t. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.
The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised
its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:
“I get that all the time.”
“I know,” Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn’t sure the
snake could hear him. “It must be really annoying.”
The snake nodded vigorously.
“Where do you come from, anyway?” Harry asked.
The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at
it.
Boa Constrictor, Brazil.
“Was it nice there?”
The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on:
This specimen was bred in the zoo. “Oh, I see — so you’ve never been to
Brazil?”
As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both
of them jump. “DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS
SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!”
Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.
“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by
surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast
no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right
up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.
Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had
vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the
floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the
exits.
As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing
voice said, “Brazil, here I come.… Thanksss, amigo.”
The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.
“But the glass,” he kept saying, “where did the glass go?”
The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea
while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As
far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn’t done anything except snap playfully at
their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car,
Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was
swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least,
was Piers calming down enough to say, “Harry was talking to it, weren’t you,
Harry?”
Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before
starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say,
“Go — cupboard — stay — no meals,” before he collapsed into a chair, and
Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn’t
know what time it was and he couldn’t be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet.
Until they were, he couldn’t risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.
He’d lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as
long as he could remember, ever since he’d been a baby and his parents had died
in that car crash. He couldn’t remember being in the car when his parents had
died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his
cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a
burning pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was the crash, though he
couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn’t remember his
parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

“I know they don’t,” said Harry. “It was only a dream.”

But he wished he hadn’t said anything. If there was one thing the

Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about

anything acting in a way it shouldn’t, no matter if it was in a dream or even a

cartoon — they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The

Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and

then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before

they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn’t

bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head

who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn’t blond.

Harry had the best morning he’d had in a long time. He was careful to

walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were

starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn’t fall back on their

favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley

had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn’t have enough ice cream on

top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the

first.

Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to

last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there,

with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and

snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and

Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons.

Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its

body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a trash can — but at

the moment it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the

glistening brown coils.

“Make it move,” he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the

glass, but the snake didn’t budge.

“Do it again,” Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly

with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

“This is boring,” Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He

wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself — no company

except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all

day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only

visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got

to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised

its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry’s.

It winked.

Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was

watching. They weren’t. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised

its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:

“I get that all the time.”

“I know,” Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn’t sure the

snake could hear him. “It must be really annoying.”

The snake nodded vigorously.

“Where do you come from, anyway?” Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at

it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

“Was it nice there?”

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on:

This specimen was bred in the zoo. “Oh, I see — so you’ve never been to

Brazil?”

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both

of them jump. “DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS

SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!”

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by

surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast

no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right

up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had

vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the

floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the

exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing

voice said, “Brazil, here I come.… Thanksss, amigo.”

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

“But the glass,” he kept saying, “where did the glass go?”

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea

while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As

far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn’t done anything except snap playfully at

their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car,

Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was

swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least,

was Piers calming down enough to say, “Harry was talking to it, weren’t you,

Harry?”

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before

starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say,

“Go — cupboard — stay — no meals,” before he collapsed into a chair, and

Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn’t

know what time it was and he couldn’t be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet.

Until they were, he couldn’t risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.

He’d lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as

long as he could remember, ever since he’d been a baby and his parents had died

in that car crash. He couldn’t remember being in the car when his parents had

died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his

cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a

burning pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was the crash, though he

couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn’t remember his

parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was