CHAPTER ONE
The cat didn’t move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this nor-
mal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself to-
gether, 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 din-
ner all about Mrs. Next Door’s problems with her daughter and how
Dudley had learned a new word (“Won’t!”). 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
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. Experts are unable to explain why the owls
have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.” The newscaster al-
lowed 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 don’t know about that, but
it’s 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, they’ve had a
downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating
Bonfire Night early — it’s 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 . . .
6