【正文】 ” The newscaster 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 don39。s problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word (Won39。 it had the same markings around its eyes. “Shoo!” said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn39。t improve his mood — was the tabby cat he39。t be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for YouKnowWho 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 plete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn39。clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door. “Sorry,” he grunted, as the tiny o ld man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn39。t blame her — if he39。d never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley。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 wasn39。s right, that39。t know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn39。d fotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker39。 they pointed and gazed openmouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owlfree morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he39。t, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn39。t young at all。t help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn39。 cats couldn39。t realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn39。t want Dudley mixing with a child like that. When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window. At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. “Little tyke,” chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four39。t have a sister, because her sister and her goodfornothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away。t met for several years。t think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley39。d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn39。1 Harry PotterThe Sorcerer39。s Stone Chapter One The Boy Who Lived Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you39。t hold with such nonsense. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn39。s sister, but they hadn39。 in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn39。 they didn39。s drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn39。t a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, looking at the sign。t read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn39。t bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them