Articles 1

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was director of firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on neighbours. Dursleys had small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn’t think they could bear it if anyone found out about Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn’t have sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. Dursleys shuddered to think what neighbours would say if Potters arrived in their street. Dursleys knew that the Potters had small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping Potters away; they didn’t want Dudley mixing with child like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on dull, grey Tuesday our story begins, there was nothing about cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed large, tawny owl flutter past window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having tantrum and throwing his cereal at walls. “Little tyke,” chortled Mr. Dursley as he left house. He got into his car and backed out of number four’s drive.

It was on corner of street that he noticed first sign of something peculiar — cat reading map. For second, Mr. Dursley didn’t realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was tabby cat standing on corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn’t map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been trick of light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around corner and up road, he watched cat in his mirror. It was now reading sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at sign; cats couldn’t read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself little shake and put cat out of his mind. As he drove towards town he thought of nothing except large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.