Mr Dursley 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 mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry
Come to think of it, he wasn't even wire his nephew may call
Harry He'd never even seen the boy, It might have been
Harvey Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mes
Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister.
He didn't blame her-if he'd had a sister like that hot all the
same, those people in cloaks
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that
afternoon, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he
was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just
Outside the door. Sorry, he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile, and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare: Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You Know Who has gone at last Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!
And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle
And walked off.
Mr Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination. As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the thing he saw-and it didn't improve his mood-was the s cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his wall. He was sure it was the same one, it had the same mark around its eyes. Shoot l, said Mr Dursley loudly.
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look, war normal cat, Mr Dursley wondered. Trying to himself together, he let himself into the house. He was s determined not to mention anything to his wife.
Mrs Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him dinner all about Mrs Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word (Shan't). Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, went into the living-room in time to catch the last report o the evening news:
'And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Expels are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern. The newsreader allowed himself a grin. 'Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McMuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight
Jim? 'Well, Ted,' said the weatherman, I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today.
So that's it, guys. See you in the next article of Harry Potter Philosopher's stone first chapter The Boy Who Lived Part 4
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