J.K. Rowling - Harry Potter: The Complete Collection

CONTENTS

F OR J ESSICA , WHO LOVES STORIES ,

FOR A NNE , WHO LOVED THEMTOO ;

AND FOR D I , WHO HEARD THISONE FIRST .

M r. and Mrs. Dursley, ofnumber four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they wereperfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last peopleyoud expect to be involved in anything strange ormysterious, because they just didnt hold with suchnonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, whichmade drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, althoughhe did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blondeand had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in veryuseful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences,spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudleyand in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had asecret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discoverit. They didnt think they could bear it if anyone found outabout the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursleys sister, butthey hadnt met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursleypretended she didnt have a sister, because her sister andher good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it waspossible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighborswould say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knewthat the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seenhim. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away;they didnt want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday ourstory starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside tosuggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happeningall over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his mostboring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as shewrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past thewindow.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, peckedMrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye butmissed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing hiscereal at the walls. Little tyke, chortled Mr.Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out ofnumber fours drive.

It was on the corner of the streetthat he noticed the first sign of something peculiar a catreading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didnt realize whathe had seen then he jerked his head around to look again.There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, butthere wasnt a map in sight. What could he have been thinkingof? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked andstared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around thecorner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It wasnow reading the sign that said Privet Drive no,looking at the sign; cats couldnt read maps orsigns. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat outof his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except alarge order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills weredriven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usualmorning traffic jam, he couldnt help noticing that thereseemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People incloaks. Mr. Dursley couldnt bear people who dressed in funnyclothes the getups you saw on young people! He supposedthis was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on thesteering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdosstanding quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together.Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them werentyoung at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, andwearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then itstruck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt these people were obviously collecting forsomething... yes, that would be it. The trafficmoved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in theGrunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his officeon the ninth floor. If he hadnt, he might have found itharder to concentrate on drills that morning. Hedidnt see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, thoughpeople down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthedas owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owleven at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal,owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He madeseveral important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was ina very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought hedstretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun fromthe bakery.

Hed forgotten all about the people in cloaks until hepassed a group of them next to the bakers. He eyed themangrily as he passed. He didnt know why, but they made himuneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and hecouldnt see a single collecting tin. It was on his way backpast them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught afew words of what they were saying.

The Potters, thats right, thats what Iheard

yes, their son, Harry

Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back atthe whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, butthought 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 hismind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache,thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potterwasnt such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots ofpeople called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think ofit, he wasnt even sure his nephew was called Harry.Hed never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. OrHarold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always gotso upset at any mention of her sister. He didnt blame her if hed had a sister likethat... but all the same, those people incloaks...

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoonand when he left the building at five oclock, he was stillso worried that he walked straight into someone just outside thedoor.

Sorry, he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbledand almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realizedthat the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didnt seem atall upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary,his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voicethat made passersby stare, Dont be sorry, my dearsir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Whohas 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 walkedoff.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by acomplete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle,whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and setoff for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had neverhoped before, because he didnt approve of imagination.