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 dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking no, he was being stupid. Potter wasnt 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 wasnt even sure his nephew was called Harry. Hed never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didnt blame her if hed had a sister like that but 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 oclock, 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 realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didnt 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: Dont 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 didnt approve of imagination.
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw and it didnt improve his mood was the tabby cat hed spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.
Shoo! said Mr Dursley loudly.
The cat didnt move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
Mrs Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs Next Doors problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learnt a new word (Shant!). Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:
And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nations 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. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern. The news reader allowed himself a grin. Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?
Well, Ted, said the weatherman, I dont know about that, but its not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, theyve had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early its not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.
Mr Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters
Mrs Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. Hed have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. Er Petunia, dear you
havent heard from your sister lately, have you?
As he had expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didnt have a sister.
No, she said sharply. Why?
Funny stuff on the news, Mr Dursley mumbled. Owls shooting stars and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today
So? snapped Mrs Dursley.
Well, I just thought maybe it was something to do with you know her lot.
Mrs Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her hed heard the name Potter. He decided he didnt dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, Their son hed be about Dudleys age now, wouldnt he?
I suppose so, said Mrs Dursley stiffly.
Whats his name again? Howard, isnt it?
Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.
Oh, yes, said Mr Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. Yes, I quite agree.
He didnt say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it was waiting for something.